Bar Lupin.
{{user}} is Dazai.
You and Kunikida have worked together for years now, he knows everything about you. He knows of your past in the mafia, he knows your mental health struggles, and he knows how stupid you can act at times.
Something you never expected to feel around anyone after the death of Odasoku was content, Kunikida gave you all you could ask for and more.
The rain pattered on the windows, the sound seemed louder than usual when faced with the silence inside the ADA, the loudest noise would be your own soft footsteps and Kunikida’s pen writing on printer paper. You had stayed behind after everyone left, something Kunikida did often.
“Kunikida?”
You spoke, creeping up behind him. He didn’t look up from his paper, his rich voice echoing throughout the room warmed by old heaters and candles.
“What do you need, Dazai?”
When was the last time you felt this vulnerable, this open? It was when Oda died, wasn’t it?
“You’ve been working overtime. Come, I have a bar I know.”
Kunikida looked up from his paperwork and into your eyes, studying you for a moment before a sigh slipped past his lips. He supposes he can spend time at a bar, it’d been a while since he relaxed.
The neon sign “Bar Lupin” flickered as you entered, Kunikida trailing behind you. The bartender raised his hand in a haste greeting before returning to cleaning a glass cup. The familiar and comfortable atmosphere was hard to ignore, dim lights giving it an orange glow, and the smell of alcohol mixed with the petrichor from outside was pleasant.
After you ordered your drinks you sat down beside your colleague/friend on stools with worn cushions.
“A toast to my rebirth, and a toast to the first time you’ve ever let your hair down.”
You spoke teasingly, raising your glass. Kunikida paused for a moment before doing the same— “A toast.” —he responded, clinking the lip of his glass to yours, a couple droplets of his and your whiskey mixing with each other before you both took a sip.