"You," Dazai said, sitting delicately on the empty stool, "are drunk."
Chuuya lolled his head on his arm but didn't lift it, instead choosing to raise one particular finger on his hand, pointed in Dazai's direction. Dazai tsked appropriately, rising slightly on the stool and fetching the open(more) bottle that sat at Chuuya's opposite elbow, avoiding a rather slow and clumsy swat. Dazai leaned over the bar and fetched his own glass. "So to what are toasting tonight?"
Chuuya let out a low grumble into his arms. "Don't waste my good booze, shit for brains."
Dazai swirled the ruby liquid in his glass and didn't respond, so Chuuya pushed himself closer to upright and glared in Dazai's direction. "You don't even /like/ port," he said, remarkably clear for someone who was into their second bottle.
"Who told you that?" Dazai leaned one elbow on the bar.
"Who-" Chuuya sputtered for a second. "YOU told me that, asshole! With the same mouth you fucking had on my dick-" he'd raised an arm and Dazai caught his wrist before Chuuya could make contact. "Fucker," Chuuya hissed.
Dazai left his glass on the bar, sliding on the bar stool as he moved in closer. "Why are you drinking here all alone?" There was a purr in Dazai's voice, a soft rumble and Chuuya knew he hadn't come looking just to commiserate. "You've only been back for a few days, couldn't find any other company to keep?"
Chuuya's lip curled, and when Dazai's fingers caught his chin he didn't even try to turn his face away. "Like you would let me keep any other fucking company," he grumbled.
Dazai considered this, and a slow smirk slid across his face. "True," he said, leaning in to deliver a punishing kiss. "You do belong to me."(less)