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[Chuuya had felt groggy and unfocused since he woke up, a feeling not even coffee had been able to make a dent in. He'd gotten to work purely on muscle memory, and then he'd mostly stared at his desk until Kouyou dropped by for lunch and ordered him to go home and sleep it off.

He wasn't sure there was anything to sleep off, but he didn't argue with his Ane-san.

And then he'd gone home, and passed out, and woken up about an hour later as panic gripped his chest tight.

Dazai.

He had to find Dazai.

He hurried out of his apartment, grabbed his motorcycle for speed, and set off in the direction of Dazai's place. Would he even be at his place? Or with that Agency of his? He'd check both, if he had to, although he'd prefer not having to explain to any stray agency members that he wasn't there to kill them. So he'd check his apartment first, and maybe call him from there.

It was only when he parked his bike outside Dazai's building that he realized he wasn't sure what he was panicking about.

Dazai has nothing to do with him anymore, but there was something, a thought buried behind the fog of his brain that told him there was more. Something was supposed to have changed--

Shit.

His head hurt. He hadn't been drinking, and it didn't feel like a hangover, but it did feel similar to a blackout. Dazai and he had been--

Dancing?

No, that made no sense. Chuuya headed into the building, and climbed the stairs, five at a time because he didn't have time for gravity.

They'd been in the city and--

That city.

Chuuya stopped, hand raised to knock, as a few memories started to come back to him. It wasn't possible. Someone had planted that in his head somehow.

They had been dancing. ]

DAZAI!

[He shouted through the door and then knocked hard, making the door shake.]

OPEN UP, DAZAI.

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Then don't.

[An innocent shrug, and a casual drink. No one's forcing you to.

And here, have more wine.]

It's a waste if you go home now, by the way. [He held the bottle up to the light and squinted at it.] There's still half of this to go.

[Chuuya squints at the wine bottle, too. ]

I could bring it with me.

[Technicaly the bar isn’t allowed to sell wine for him to being home, but who’s going to say no to him? He’ll do what he wants.

Not that he’s moving.]

You’re not drinking.

Am, too!

[He held up his glass in comparison to Chuuya's. See? See? Yours is more full than his!

Have a toast, while he's at it.]

I'm surprised you didn't bring your own bottle to this place. No offense to our gentleman over here [the bartender, he meant] , but you can be picky.

You’re not drinking enough!

[Dazai needs to do multiple shots if he wants to keep up with Chuuya, who is definetely feeling the wine at this point. He has no idea how much he’s drunk. ]

Sometimes I bring my own. I didn’t want to go home first.

[Because if he went home, he wasn’t sure if he’d want to go out again. It was entirely unlike him, and he didn’t like it. ]

Edited 2018-10-29 15:23 (UTC)

Am I not? [He swirled his glass and drank, looking at Chuuya from his periphery.] You seem to forget that your tolerance is far worse than mine.

In any case, we are, indeed, not going home yet. To commemorate this rare evening, I shall oblige by catching up. That's not a problem for you, is it?

[He reached over to tip Dazai’s glass back for him, to make sure he drank it all. ]

It hasn’t been that long.

[He was drunk enough now that he was slipping up. He and Dazai went out together all the time, in that place. But back here in Yokohama, it had been years.

Because Dazai had left.]

If you actually want to.

[It was said a bit sulkily. ]

Edited 2018-10-30 00:45 (UTC)

[He's sipping, he's sipping!

(But really Chuuya, that was unnecessary use of force. Lucky you Dazai caught you starting to reach out, or he would've spilled wine on his shirt, and that won't do.)]

Did I not just drink? Here, you can pour my next glass if you'd like.

Tell me: do you watch your subordinates like hawks during company dinners to make sure they drank properly?

I buy them rounds, but they don’t have to drink.

[Unlike Dazai, who must do what Chuuya wants, and drink what Chuuya wants him to. Allowing him to pour probably isn’t a good idea at this point. He doesn’t spill any, but he does fill Dazai’s glass all the way to the brim.

Enjoy.]

You’re annoying when you’re sober.

[Look, Dazai doesn't like being forced to do anything. He'll only indulge Chuuya today because Chuuya being forceful about drinking while getting smashed is amusing.

He still gives the glass a Look though. There's no flourish in drinking from a glass like that.]

Chuuya, indeed, likes to be the horn of plenty personified. Such overflowing generosity that demands acceptance.

So, to you, does that mean I'm more acceptable drunk?

[Don't talk nonsense when he's drunk.]

You're always annoying.

[What did you expect, Dazai? Although he doesn't sound as convincing as he normally would, and his hatred of Dazai was never very convincing to begin with. Now, he's gradually leaning a little closer.]

But maybe then your brain will stop working.

[He'll talk nonsense whether or not he's drunk.]

Oh, I don't know. That's never happened before. Unlike Chuuya, whose remaining brain cell is in need of constant revival from stoppage.

It must me tough, having to function on such limited resources.

[Dazai needs to come with a gag attachment.]

Shut up!

[Hope you were prepared for that elbow to your side, Dazai. He's not holding back.]

Asshole. You need to drink something stronger.

[Oi oi oi, not when he's drinking! Blocked to the side.

But ow.

The smile doesn't leave his face, but boy does his forearm hurt.]

I usually do. [He'll just point to the two glasses in front of him: whiskey and wine. It's not advisable to mix drinks like this, but with the situation as it was, he'll be forced to.] You just demanded I drink something less strong.

Can't make up your mind? Or do you just like ordering me around?

[If you don't want Chuuya to hurt you, then don't say stuff to deserve it!

Chuuya looks at the two glasses, then briefly considers tipping one into the other, but that would both ruin the wine and overflow the glass. Still, it would solve this "what should dazai drink" dilemma.]

Like you ever take orders.

[But yes, getting to order Dazai around would be fun. If he'd ever managed to outrank him while they were in the mafia, Chuuya would have been taking advantage of it constantly.

Sadly he'd never stood a chance at making that happen.]

Just drink both.

Edited 2018-10-30 14:43 (UTC)

[How is saying that Chuuya has a hard time thinking worthy of being hit? Even the slug can't deny he has a hard time keeping up with Dazai.

There was also no way Chuuya would ever outrank Dazai in the mafia. Dazai would make sure of it, though not to the extent he'd send Chuuya off to some distant corner of the country when it came time to clean house. In any case, that was all hypothetical at this point. Dazai wouldn't willingly rejoin the mafia unless there was no other option for the Agency, but even then Mori would have to justify why he was welcoming an infamous traitor back into the ranks.

By the way, if Chuuya mixed wine with his whiskey, Dazai was giving the glass to him. His cocktail, his doom.]

It's a waste of alcohol if I don't.

[Oh, fine, wine first. He had a feeling Chuuya would refill this glass though, so he didn't rush.]

How's anee-san, by the way?

[Smaller topics first.]

[Having a hard time keeping up with Dazai =/= having a hard time thinking. It's not his fault Dazai is smarter than he has any right to be.

Chuuya is eyeing Dazai's glass, ready to top it up at a moment's notice. Although that does mean less wine for Chuuya, and he definitely needs it, a lot. He'll have some more of his own.]

She's fine. Keeping track of that girl.

[So Dazai better make sure Kyouka is doing well in the ADA, if he doesn't want to deal with Ane-san's wrath. Chuuya isn't getting involved, though. The girl left; in his mind, she doesn't qualify as a traitor, because she never wanted to be in the mafia in the first place. And she's young.

And he also fears Ane-san's wrath.]

She knows something happened to me, but not what.