synergetic | Drunken Confessions

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Drunken Confessions

The day was already impossibly long at 2. By the time he puts Yukiko to bed, it's felt like a small eternity. But the kitchen is clean, everyone has bathed, the toys are put away, the homework is checked, and the foreheads have been kissed. He even got in a good conversation with Keita about becoming a big brother after bedtime story.

Frankly, he's so tired he could go straight to bed, but drinking with Yukimura on the couch has become a cherished nighttime ritual, and he isn't about to start skipping something so hard-earned and enjoyable now. Never mind the value it had in maintaining good rapport; that was never something to take for granted.

So to the couch he goes, where Yukimura is already waiting with Hima tucked comfortably in her bassinet by his side. For a moment, Bunta is struck all over again with admiration for this man who generously opened his home to them and who has given Yukiko and Keita the same patience and care that he gives Himawari. He didn't have to come home and straight from the genkan target handling the crying toddler instead of the snuggly and content infant he'd missed all day. He could have taken Hima and left Bunta to juggle Keita's meltdown and cooking dinner. Instead, he went to the fire. He's a good father and a good person.

"We made it....!" Bunta says with as much celebration as fatigue and flops down beside him.

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The tickling brush of Yukimura's fingertips against his face makes his stomach flutter in a way he hasn't felt since--

He can blame the booze for the flush spreading across his cheeks and the dopey grin he almost fights through a quiet giggle.

"You have no idea. But you got to live out your dream. That made me happy to see."

Worth every kneecap.

He wonders if he'd feel that way, if their positions were reversed. He thinks about Akaya's career, or the boy's. He takes pride in their accomplishments, but that's more because they wouldn't have reached their apex without his influence, he thinks. Nothing as altruistic as what Marui is describing.

And he hadn't thought much about the lives his friends were building back home. He'd come home briefly, take his turn as the out-of-town uncle, and while he'd enjoyed it, he'd always been planning his next match.

"Ah, how drunk are you? Your face is as red as your hair," he says bluntly, train of thought derailed at the sight. He must be pretty drunk too, what with the inability to say that more delicately, and laughs at himself.

Bunta laughs again along with Yukimura, and at himself.

"Is it? Well, I feel good. This is a nice end to the day."

In all kinds of ways. He lets his eyes slip closed, and his mind fall into neutral.

"You smell nice."

Yukimura giggles again.

"After the baby spit up on me twice? If you want to flatter me, put some effort into it."

"Hmmm," Bunta only briefly contemplates, and giggles again, feeling like a damned schoolgirl.

"You smell really nice!"

Yukimura playfully shoves him off his shoulder.

"I should charge you rent for using me as a pillow. Four out of ten on that line, too. And Himawari probably spit up on that shoulder. I don't remember which one she was on. Cuddle at your own risk."

He settles down into the couch, every word still infused with a giggle.

"But you change as many diapers as I do so maybe not. Maybe you should charge me rent, or something. A prenup. Something. What's left to drink? Or have I had enough?"

That shove was very deserved, and it makes him laugh again. He takes another drink because why not, it's a good night to get smashed.

"Are you proposing to me? You didn't have to get me drunk for that! --Probably."

He leans over and grabs the nearest not-empty bottle he sees, holds it in offering.

Yukimura holds his glass out expectantly.

"Isn't that a funny image? Usually you get someone drunk so they'll sleep with you right? I'd have to be... to be more devious than the average man to wring a whole marriage out of it. Or more handsome. One of those. Both, probably."

Edited 2025-02-27 04:41 (UTC)

Bunta pours the glass full. Indulge away, Yukimura!

"That's true... but since it's you we're talking about, I don't have any doubts you could accomplish whatever you wanted."

Yukimura drinks deeply.

"Mm, only... only in physical things. Emotional things, that's you and your magic. I have no power there."

Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe the fatigue, maybe the remaining ripples of heartache from the other road traveled. One he doesn't regret, but that leaves Bunta just slightly wistful and sobered about could-have-beens. He leans back and resumes his cuddle against Yukimura's possibly-infant-treated shoulder, the jovial giggles giving way to quiet reflection.

"That's not true... You have more than you realize. A lot more."

"Look at Himawari's mother... I kind of ruined her life, the one time I tried."

He tries to say it jovially, but it just does not translate well.

Reflexively, he leans back into Marui, too.

"Maybe I should stick to men. There've, there've been a few."

The counter makes Bunta's stomach and heart both hurt for Yukimura. There's nothing he can say to make that better, and he isn't too drunk to know he shouldn't even try.

"Have there? I didn't know you swung that way, too."

That intimate brush of his bangs a few moments ago hadn't just been his imagination, maybe. It's a thought that conjures way more baggage than Bunta is willing to properly deal with that evening, and it sinks into the ether of his subconscious accordingly.

He pauses.

Mentally backtracks.

Slowly his gaze shifts to the bottles on the table.

Edited 2025-02-27 06:08 (UTC)

"More than two," he said drowsily, thinking he misheard that 'too.' "None of them were Atobe," he adds vehemently, because maintaining that lie is the most important thing. Why? Who knows, but it is. Can't maintain face if anybody knows...

He drains his glass again, and follows Marui's gaze.

"Do we need to drink more for this?"

Atobe was absolutely one of them.

(God, why is he not surprised Atobe was one of them. This was not something he needed to know...! Oh well. Yukimura's secret is safe with him.)

"I can keep going if you can!" Bunta says as he refills Yukimura's glass. This could get out of hand. Maybe that's not a bad thing.

"Do we have to do anything responsible tomorrow? I can tell the boy to get lost, but the children... do we have to do anything for them tomorrow? Yukiko-chan can make cereal, right?"

He takes just a sip from his glass this time.

"Did you say 'two' or 'too' earlier?" he wondered, offering to refill Marui's glass. Obviously, they're going to keep going.

"Sure," He responds blithely. It wasn't that simple, but parenting needs in the morning was a future problem.

He holds out his glass for a top-off. He might be impaired right now, but he sure as hell isn't blind, and yes, he absolutely needs more to drink for this.

"I said I didn't know you did as well. I can't claim your body count, though."

He giggles at that.

"Well, things happen when you cram world-class athletes in world-class condition together," he admitted. "Or if they're just... cute, the way you are. Cute and funny and kind enough to connect with people."

Bunta quickly downs his entire glass in one drink. Before he starts thinking about things he does not want-- does not need-- to be thinking about right now.

He accepted and let go a long time ago. It just still hurts sometimes.

Turning on the couch towards Yukimura, as though settling in for sleep with him as the pillow, he lets out a drunken chuckle.

"It's funny to be talking like this to each other... after all this time. After all that's happened. I... could probably fall for you all over again. I've always felt it, a little. Before I met Leia... it was so intense I thought I would drown. I still miss her sometimes. But being here with you, raising our three kids together... Even though you're completely different people... I love the feeling I have with you."

Like the one he had with her.

Bleary-eyed, Yukimura frowns.

"Honestly. You're as bad as Sanada." Which transforms that frown back into a giggle. He can't really stay negative when he's this deficient of inhibitions. When everything sounds like a good idea, at least when a dear and cherished friend proposes it.

"Everybody waits until it's too late to confess to me. When they're already with someone else. No one wants to hear my opinion on the subject when it might actually make a difference. For the record, I think I'd have an easier time falling in love with one of the few people I already like over a stranger, but nobody ever bothers to ask me."

Which is something they ought to be punished for. He can't punish Sanada without stepping on Aya-chan's toes, and Aya-chan's toes deserve better than that.

Marui, on the other hand...

Yukimura kisses his lips, briefly. A feather-light kiss, but a kiss.

Yukimura says it like this was something Bunta should have told him years ago. What would the point have been, back when they wanted such different things? Maybe Yukimura was upset about not having a serious partner for the interim, and weighted with guilt over Himawari's mother. Those aren't things Bunta can help him with. He can't say he'd do it differently himself, even knowing how it ended. It was an incredible twelve years.

The barely-there touch of lips is the moment of payoff for all that chugging. In this moment, there are no thoughts or memories to cloud the experience of Now. That's how it should be. Fully relaxed and cognitively disengaged, he's immersed in his senses, his feelings, and his instincts.

He likes it.

He's missed this feeling. He's ready to have this closeness again. He wants it to be him. The brush of lips draws his hand to the back of Yukimura's neck as he leans forward, seeking another taste.

"Oh, you aren't opposed to this," Yukimura said, stating the obvious in a low, lilting voice.

He doesn't strain against or try to pull away from Marui's hand. Tries to figure out what the sexy to do with his own hands would be, but the alcohol is drowning thoughts that he actually needs to think through. Simple things like "Kiss enjoyable; kiss more," get through more easily.

So he does.

"I can do anything with encouragement," Yukimura says wryly.

The words half-process; Bunta isn't really paying much attention to them at the moment. Between drunkenness and the swell of desire from Yukimura's answer to his invitation, it was like hearing them from underwater.

What he's much more attuned to is the tone of voice and body language that both speak of receptiveness. Receptiveness, so he leans in farther, kisses deeper. His hand glides up, fingers threading through dark waves of hair. What a nice place to be this is, cozy and intimate with full stomachs and sleeping children. If Yukimura wanted it too-- and it sounded like he did-- he'd stay here with him permanently.

Why don't they, then? He draws back from the kiss just enough to meet Yukimura's eyes, and it's only for a moment that he pauses to reflect on the different color: no longer vibrant green, but rich indigo. Different, but no less beautiful and enchanting.

"Wanna fall in love?"

"It would be easy, wouldn't it?"

He was beginning to think so. His mind was too fuzzy to think out all of the implications right now. But someone he'd known most of his life, someone he knew to be strong but loving and... a little unambitious since getting out of school, but he'd managed. Held himself and his family together, imperfectly but successfully.

"Nothing is easy, but... you make it easier."

Yukimura sure is talking a lot.

It's all more thinking than Bunta really has the capacity or even interest in doing on so little energy and so much alcohol. That answer was close enough to 'Yes' for his ears. He's not concerned about something so abstract and far away as how to make it work long-term, or what this might change in their established dynamic. Whatever happened, everything would be fine.

He lets himself fall back in recline towards the arm of the sofa, tugging Yukimura down with him as he goes.

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