Work Text:
"Kunikida...?"
"Is he sleeping?"
He heard voices, but he ignored them, continuing to rest his heavy head on the cold surface of his desk. The chill was comforting. He knew he was alone in the office, because it was midnight and everyone's left by now.
"Guys, just let him rest."
That last one sounded like Ranpo's lazy voice. Out of everyone here, he was the least likely to stay even a minute longer than he needed to. At this realization, Kunikida's eyes fluttered open, his eyelashes roughly brushing up against each other. He lifted his head. Dazai was in front of him, sitting at his desk, diligently hammering away at his laptop, looking intensely focused. Kunikida glanced to the side and caught Atsushi staring at him, worry in his eyes.
When Kunikida realized he had fallen asleep in front of all of his coworkers, he felt more than just rage. He would have preferred to be woken up than to be surrounded by them as they passed around remarks of pity and concern. He got up from his desk, and at once, the other agency members averted their eyes and looked back at their work. But he knew they were all thinking the same thing.
Kunikida concealed his anger and calmly excused himself from the office. He had forgotten his glasses and his notebook, two things he was never without, right there on his desk.
Once Kunikida was gone, the rest of the agency lifted their heads up and looked at each other, the air thick with tension. Questions lingered but no one dared speak them out loud. The only person who wasn't participating in this invisible, psychological exchange was Dazai. He looked focused, but all he had open was an empty doc that he was typing gibberish on. His mind was spiraling, and he needed to occupy his hands with something. Of course he was aware of the tension in the room.
To say that he was worried about Kunikida was an understatement.
The moment Kunikida closed the door behind him, he pressed his back against the nearest wall and buried his face in his palms, his legs feeling wobbly. The empty space of the hallway seemed to bear down on him, screaming his name, and for a moment he thought he was truly dying.
He groaned into his hands. He wanted sleep. He wanted to curl up on the ground and forget everything. If he took a step back and observed his work from an outside perspective, it wasn't a lot of work. Perfectly manageable. But that sort of mindset only made him angrier. If it were so easy, why couldn't he do it?
He wanted to rip all of his ideals into pieces. But at the same time, it was the only thing he could cling to without feeling guilty.
A few minutes later, he returned to the office. His face was wiped clean of any emotion or fatigue as he sat down in his desk, put on his glasses, and flipped open his notebook. Business as usual.
There was still work to be done.
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The clock struck eleven.
More and more often, Kunikida has been staying late at the office, downing one coffee after another to keep himself going. Sleep has been slipping from between his shaky fingertips like leaves torn off a tree from a gust of wind.
On top of all the caffeine, the small nap he had earlier in the day was keeping him awake, but not necessarily sharp. He pulled his cup away from the instant coffee machine way before it was done drizzling. Coffee spilled over the edge of the catch tray and spread across the counter, eventually dripping down to the floor.
"Damn it," Kunikida cursed. He genuinely thought it was done pouring.
Luckily, there were paper towels in the break room, so he tore away a few sheets and began lapping up the spilled coffee. Once he was satisfied, he threw away the towels and grabbed his cup, leaving the break room. The walk down the hallway back into the office seemed felt like a long hike.
Just as he walked through the office door and passed the partitioned area with the couches and low tea table, a hand emerged from the small, dim space and grabbed his upper arm, dragging him in. He could barely hold onto his cup as he teetered dangerously to the side.
When he regained his balance and spun around to chew out the culprit, he saw that it was none other than Dazai, his eyes blown wide as he stared at Kunikida.
"You-" Kunikida began, gritting his teeth.
"It's nearly midnight." Dazai muttered.
Kunikida stared at him. He's only seen that look in Dazai's eyes a few times, but it was never directed at him.
"Why are you here, Dazai?" Kunikida demanded, wrenching his arm out of Dazai's grip.
"You weren't in your apartment."
"You went to my-"
"Why are you here?"
Kunikida pressed his lips together in a thin line. He tried to back away, but Dazai grabbed him again, this time taking hold of his wrist. He gently tugged him toward him, but once again, Kunikida escaped him and sent him a glare, but he didn't bother to back away.
"I need to finish my work." Kunikida replied slowly, carefully enunciating each word.
Dazai managed a shattered smile. "Why? You constantly fall asleep in the office and act like nothing is wrong. You think no one's noticed that you practically spend the night here?"
"It has nothing to do with you," he muttered.
"It does," Dazai insisted. "Put on your coat. You're going home."
Before Kunikida could even process his words, Dazai pushed past him and went over to Kunikida's desk, closing the laptop and picking up his belongings, including his ideals.
"Dazai," Kunikida said gravely as he stepped out of the partitioned era and lingered by his desk. "I'm not leaving."
Dazai ignored him as he momentarily set down the objects in his hands and slid into his beige coat. Kunikida watched, his eyelids heavy, knowing that exhaustion had permeated every bone in his body, and no amount of caffeine would keep him up for much longer. He knew that determined expression on Dazai's face. Kunikida wouldn't be able to get out of this.
Still, rage flared in Kunikida's chest as Dazai picked up his notebook again and shoved it into the pocket of his coat. No one touched Kunikida's notebook, but Dazai always grabbed it and flipped through it like it was his. For a moment, he regained clarity through the fog in his brain and managed to grab Dazai's shoulder as he walked past him.
"Stop."
"Why?"
Kunikida sighed. "I don't need this. Leave."
Dazai genuinely looked upset, his usual poker face wiped clean off. He grabbed Kunikida's ideals from out of his pocket and held it up so they could both see it. He twirled it around a few times.
"Ideals this, ideals that." Dazai stepped closer. They were close enough to hear each other's breathing. Dazai shoved the book against Kunikida's chest. "Forget the book. Forget the work. What do you want?"
Kunikida couldn't bear looking into Dazai's eyes anymore. His face fell into his hands, not caring that he was crushing his glasses against his face, the frames painfully pressing against the bridge of his nose and the sides of his face. The book clattered to the ground.
"Sleep." he replied brokenly. "I want sleep."
He heard Dazai let out a huff. "That's what I thought." he said quietly.
Kunikida felt a warm pair of hands close over his before gently pulling them away from his face, relieving the pressure.. Carefully, Dazai grabbed the glasses by edges of the frames and gently pulled them off of his face, folding them up and tucking them into his pockets.
Something buzzed between them, but Dazai broke it off by turning around. Kunikida hesitated, but he quickly bent down to pick up the notebook, tucking it under his arm before finally following Dazai out of the office. He left his coat slung on the back of his chair, but he decided he'd just leave it.
All of the lights still needed to be turned off, so when they entered the hallway, Kunikida was ready to help Dazai so he wouldn't have to go to each room. But when Kunikida tried to follow him down the hall, Dazai quickly noticed. Rather than scolding him again, he simply shoved him around until Kunikida was against the wall and Dazai was mere inches away, their chests flush against each other.
"What-" Kunikida began, but Dazai quickly cut him off.
"Stay. I'll do it."
Kunikida watched with a mix of frustration and awe as Dazai backed away and stalked down the hall. it only took a few minutes for him to return, and Kunikida was still in the exact same spot. The sight caused the usual smirk to appear on Dazai's lips, which quickly removed him from his daze.
Together, they stepped out of the office and into the dark night air.
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Dazai shoved open the door to Kunikida's small, neat apartment and closed the door, locking it.
"Really, you don't have to stay," Kunikida muttered, kicking off his shoes, uncaring of where they ended up.
But Dazai took off his shoes too, dumping them in the corner. Kunikida noticed, but said nothing. Once Dazai made up his mind, it was difficult to convince him otherwise. Kunikida pulled Dazai's coat off of his shoulders and put Dazai's coat in a small closet a few paces away, just as a good host should.
Kunikida felt a bit stuffy and wanted to take off his tight vest, but with company over, he felt self-conscious. As he mulled over this, Dazai quickly made himself at home. Kunikida hardly ever let Dazai into his apartment. At most, he's allowed him to stand at the entrance, but never inside, no matter how many times Dazai begged for a tour. So, of course he was surprised and mildly annoyed that Dazai knew where everything was, down to which cabinet he kept his glassware in.
Now in the comfort of his own home, it was much easier to allow exhaustion to sweep over him. He could hardly keep his eyes open. To prevent Dazai from stepping foot in his bedroom, he went over to his couch and collapsed there instead. He momentarily forgot that Dazai was in his apartment and unbuttoned his vest, tossing it off to the side somewhere, leaving him in his dark-grey dress shirt and maroon stringed bow-tie. He'd painstakingly iron out the wrinkles later.
As he teetered between being awake and being asleep, he felt his couch sink under the weight of another person sitting next to him.
"Before you pass out, have some water." Dazai suggested.
Without any complaints, Kunikida leaned forward, took the glass, and gulped it all down in one breath.
"Honestly," Dazai began, letting out a sigh. "You're too stubborn for your own good."
Kunikida groaned. "Untrue."
A smile danced on Dazai's lips as he took the glass out of Kunikida's cold fingers and set it down on the tea table in front of the couch. Kunikida couldn't help but stare at him. He liked the sight of Dazai sitting on his couch like this, so close to him. And he didn't know what Dazai found so funny, but that smile made Kunikida feel calm.
What am I thinking? Kunikida corrected himself. No, he was just tired. How could he ever admit that Dazai's smile made him feel good? Most of the time, that absolutely infuriating smirk was the bane of Kunikida's existence.
As he got lost in his thoughts, he felt his head slowly lean back, allowing him to relax his shoulders and his neck as the couch supported him. Once he closed his eyes, he finally allowed the gentle tides of sleep to wash over him.
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It didn't last long. Perhaps it was just the nature of falling asleep upright on a couch, but a few hours later, he was unwittingly roused awake. Despite it only being a few hours, he felt considerably more refreshed and undeniably comfortable.
But something was wrong.
Kunikida had sworn he had fallen asleep on the couch. But instead he was lying down rather than sitting up, and rather than the smooth, plush leather couch, he was in his bed, between his puffy mattress and even puffier blankets.
Many of his senses refused to cooperate, so he was left feeling rather disoriented. His room was pitch black, the door and curtains closed, which was odd because those were both things he never closed while he slept. He was still in his day-clothes, which also bothered him, because he made it a point in his nightly routine to put on sleepwear. Hell, did I even brush my teeth?
Of course, there were other problems to deal with. Because Dazai was on the bed right next to him. He felt his heart jump up to his throat.
Luckily, perhaps out of respect, Dazai wasn't under the covers alongside him. Instead, he lay right on top of the comforters. He was facing Kunikida, his eyelids gently pressed closed, showing off his long eyelashes. His chest rose and fell softly. His head was pressed on the pillow on the left. Kunikida's pillow, because that was the side Kunikida preferred sleeping on. Of course Dazai had no way of knowing that, and had a fifty-percent chance of getting it right. But he didn't, and somehow, out of everything else going on, the pillow was what infuriated Kunikida the most.
Such indecency...
Kunikida tried to sit up but found himself unable to, at least not without using excess force. He had been tucked in especially well. So he lay there seething silently, his face heating up. To have Dazai, of all people, on his bed, of all places... Kunikida would have exploded with rage on the spot. But he kept it in.
Suddenly, his skin broke out in chills as Dazai stirred. Kunikida squeezed his eyes shut and forced his body to relax. Dazai moved a bit closer to Kunikida, his throat letting out a little whine as he pressed the side his face further into Kunikida's pillow.
His eyes fluttered open. "Kuni...?" he began, his voice dying in his throat before he could finish saying his name. Luckily, Kunikida still had his eyes closed and his breathing was deep and stable, so Dazai assumed his colleague was still asleep.
"Good," Dazai mused to himself.
Kunikida almost flinched as he felt Dazai's fingers wander across his forehead, gently brushing away a few stray strands of hair. He wanted to open his eyes, scold Dazai, perhaps even kick him out of his apartment. But he couldn't move.
He didn't want to.
Next to Dazai, he's slept better than he has for months by himself. Just these few hours have been more refreshing than an entire night, since lately his nights have been plagued with constant tossing and turning. He wanted to chase this deep sense of comfort and trust.
Even if Dazai was the one to give it to him, he wanted to take it.
Kunikida finally let all of his muscles relax and sunk back into the mattress. He felt himself fall, desperately clinging to Dazai's calming presence, as if one wrong move could cause it all to vanish out of his tightly clenched hands.
But something about it broke his heart. After all, they were just colleagues. In the morning, Dazai would casually wake him up, probably return to his apartment to get ready for the day, and it would just be another day at the agency. He would forget. Dazai was good at being nonchalant. He was good at emotionally disconnecting himself when he needed to. What made him think he'd be any different with him? What was he expecting? Morning cuddles and gentle forehead kisses? A leisurely breakfast and a quiet walk together to the office?
Yes.
That's really all he wanted. But he didn't think he had the right to ask for so much. They've been though a lot together, but was this the happy ending destined for them? Dazai cared, but did he feel the same way?
Still, even if Kunikida could only have this brief taste of that distant alternate reality, he'd cherish it, cling to it, and never let it go.
He turned off his mind and fell back asleep.