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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Bunta's good cheer hits a stall as he turns and discovers the state of the toaster. Residual tendrils of smoke rise from the unplugged appliance dripping water into the puddle it stands in, which is also running off the counter and onto the floor. Well, clearly toast is off the menu for today. That's too bad.

"You're right, that toaster was pretty past its time. We'll pick up a new one today."

Keita, ever helpful, looked back at Yukimura. That glance said to Keita that Yukimura wanted his help finishing the sentence.

"Cool?" Doubt, Mr. Yukimura, sir. Doubt.

Yukimura's eyes close so that he doesn't actually glare at Keita. He can't talk for a moment, either, because he thinks he might actually growl with annoyance. Or exhaustion. Or hunger. Or residual drunkenness. Or disappointment at not getting any follow-through from Bunta's flirting last night.

Wait, that was real, wasn't it? Did he actually want follow-through? Or did he just need coffee?

He looked over at Bunta, settling into his self-appointed domestic duties.

Did he actually mean that?

"Cool?" Bunta repeats as he grabs a dish towel and starts mopping up the water around the toaster. Even without looking back at Yukimura's expression, he knows the man well enough to know his ego wasn't ready for that hit right on the heels of setting off the smoke alarm. Kids were brutal!

"What're you saying? Yukimura-kun's the coolest person you know. He's even cooler than me."

"You're not cool."

"Sure I am. We're all cool in this house."

"Nuh-uh..."

"Ah, I see. It's not cool to make pancakes with whipped cream and sprinkles and strawberries."

"Those are cool. You're just not."

"But how can I not be cool when I do such cool things?"

"Because you're old!"

Bunta bursts into laughter. "You think so? Well, everyone must seem old for you. But people can get much, much older than I am."

Spill cleaned, the towel is dropped in the sink, and Bunta fills the coffee maker to start a brew. "Anyway, let's try cinnamon toast in the oven. Eggs and sausage on the side. Yukimura-kun--"

He looks back in Yukimura's direction, and all at once, the night prior comes rushing back to mind, bringing a light blush to his face. That kiss...

Well, nothing he can focus on right now. They'll have to follow up on that later. But his voice is a bit softer with the smile he sends back to him.

"Eggs the usual way?"

"Sounds fine, yes," Yukimura said, distracted. The smile and the soft tone don't help, now he has to wonder if he's imagining it.

His half-listening to Keita catches up to him about then and he tries not to sigh. He's never been thought uncool before. There were people in the world who actually had his autograph, Keita. They offered to pay for it, sometimes.

He takes his seat at the table just as a well-rested, dressed, and hair-brushed Yukiko takes hers. Has she really slept through all the recent chaos? Magic, Yukimura thinks. Needs to teach Keita. If they'd woken up naturally, maybe...

"Yukimura-san? Do you have a fever?" asked an innocent little angel, and Yukimura tried to think of an answer that wasn't 'Ask your father.'

Bunta gets right to work preparing a baking sheet and fitting eight slices of bread on it while the oven preheats. Microwave-softened butter, cinnamon, and sugar mixed together in a bowl. With his back to the table, he misses Yukiko's arrival until he hears her question.

"Oh! Good morning. How's my snowflake?"

He's as cheerful as usual, but her question to Yukimura has Bunta looking him over. He does seem a little flushed. With Yukimura's fair complexion, it doesn't take much.

"Do you want to lie down until breakfast is ready? It's okay, I'll call you." Whether he was exhausted, embarrassed, still feeling the alcohol, or actually falling sick, Yukimura deserved the chance for a small escape.

"No. No, I'm not sick," he said firmly. Bunta's kind tone was almost too much at that point.

Because he could see it, the way it was unfolding. The way he felt right when Bunta was nearby. The way he felt so comfortable that they just... apparently kept falling into each other's laps at this point. That couldn't all be exhaustion, could it?

"What is everyone doing today?" he asked quickly.

"I have homework," Yukiko said importantly. This was new, perhaps. "But I have a few days to do it," she added, leaving space for someone to ask her important questions.

The expression Bunta sends back to Yukimura is a mix of confusion and concern. Had he said something wrong? Maybe that phrasing had been a little careless, and he should have framed it as something Hima might have wanted. He just wanted Yukimura to have a few minutes to himself after the rough start to their day.

Well, if Yukimura didn't want to take it, that was his call to make, and he drops the subject. He starts spreading the cinnamon butter mixture over the bread, coating them crust to crust.

"Do you? What day is it due? Is it a big assignment?" If the teacher was allotting several days, that begged the question of why. Most of Yukiko's assignments were next-day due. It smelled like time management practice to him.

"I have to learn how to do something new, then write about how to do it to someone else," she said. "I don't know what I'm gonna do yet."

"Have you thought about babysitting?" Yukimura joked, as he moved a glass of milk out of Himawari's reach.

"Never," she said firmly, but she moved his glass a little further for him, just in case.

Honest but still considerate. Bunta did a good job raising her. Already, Yukimura was feeling like he couldn't get anywhere without him to lean on. It wasn't a feeling he particularly enjoyed, but it was satisfying, too. It was the sweat and tears from when he was in rehab-- the work was painful, but the results were satisfying.

Here, Yukimura was just constantly embarrassed, but Bunta's attempts to ease him made him feel... well, what, exactly? Cared for, that was the main one.

Yukiko answered Bunta's next question for him, apparently anticipating it. He can't help a small snicker at just how decisively she shoots down babysitting, either. That was the correct answer at her age. It was a good thing to understand what a massive responsibility it was. Good try, though, Yukimura!

"What about a recipe? Pick something you wanna try and we'll make it together. Then we can all eat it as a family for dinner."

He hoped no little eyes were on him in that moment, because Yukimura felt his heart stop and he didn't want to explain it.

Because Bunta wasn't going to be so exclusionary as to not include people who were sitting right in front of him (and especially not people who happened to own the house). But that apparently-inclusive word had to be deliberate, right? Especially after what he said last night. Had Yukimura agreed to that without really remembering? Well, if that were the case, he... was probably smarter and more honest drunk, and wasn't that odd? At least about the first part.

He couldn't really back out of that without losing face, could he? Or hurting someone's feelings. He didn't want to do either, although he'd be lying to himself if he said the one hadn't been the first he thought of.

Granted, he also didn't want to act like a lovesick teenager if he hadn't agreed to anything...

It is a damn shame he's having interpersonal relationship issues with the only friend of his he trusted to ask for advice about interpersonal relationships, he mused. He briefly entertained the thought of asking Sanada, but he thought Sanada's advice for anybody in love with someone else would just be "Marry them and quit complaining," and that wasn't legal yet, let alone helpful. Was he in love?

Had he gone so long without talking that the children were suspicious and about to comment on it? How would they feel about this nonsense?

Bunta sneaks a glance over his shoulder to interpret the collective silence, a rarity of such proportions as to be almost eerie. Keita is enjoying the last of his cookie, but seems on high alert to the prospect of his sister getting to pick what they have for dinner one night. His attention is on her. Yukiko appears to be thinking. Narrowing down options or not a fan of the idea, who knows.

Yukimura... Yukimura looks like a man in quiet crisis. And Bunta hasn't so soon forgotten his misstep from just a minute ago. Asking is out of the question right now. Not in front of the kids. Hm.

He turns back to the breakfast in progress, frowns, and puts his hand on his hip as he stares at the toast across the baking sheet. Then he breaks into a grin and checks over his shoulder again for volunteers.

"I just had a good idea for this toast. Who wants to try it?"

"MEEEEE!" Keita broke in first. What was he trying? Who knew, but like heck he was missing out on it.

"It better not be weird," Yukiko warned, as Yukimura snapped out of it and giggled. Maybe he was still drunk.

"Your father wouldn't do anything weird to breakfast, would he?" he asked her. "I trust him."

She wrinkled her nose. "He'll see toast like a blank canvas. He'll probably suggest weird recipes, too."

"I bet it's da-rishes weird!" Keita spoke in defense of their (still-uncool) father.

Bunta smiled, satisfied with the answers. This was a good exercise. Life is all about learning-- do you like taking risks for potential reward, or do you like a known outcome? Neither was wrong. And in playing these games with his kids, Bunta can understand them better, and see how their personalities are growing.

"Got it-- so that's two surprise toasts, and one safe toast. No takebacks!"

This baking sheet was about to get a lot emptier, but that was okay. He was happy with the answers. Three new-idea toasts including his own was plenty to play with, and already he's thinking through the variations he wants to do on them. He rummages through the refrigerator for the cream cheese, caramel sauce, and some strawberries and a peach from the produce bin, then sets them on the counter as he collects the powdered sugar, vanilla extract, a banana, and maple syrup from cabinet storage. Everything goes on the counter and another skillet goes on the cooktop.

Edited 2025-04-17 04:23 (UTC)

Yukiko eyed the stovetop warily, vigilant for cross-contamination.

Yukimura was, too, but for different reasons. "Anything there you think Himawari will take to, Master Chef?"

"Maaa!" she echoes at the sound of her name.

"She won't want anything too complicated either," says Yukiko thoughtfully. "And toast has too many crumbs, it'll irritate her throat."

She isn't babysitting but someone has to think of these things.

"You're right, dry toast is no good for Hima-chan. Well, a little French toast to go with surprise toast is easy." Funny how the meal keeps snowballing like this. All in good fun for happy mouths and tummies! Everyone should have a satisfying breakfast to start off their day.

Keita, having finished his cookie and fully oblivious to any sense of caution in the room, kicks his dangling feet gently back and forth and looks across the table, eyes full of hope.

"Yukimura-san," he started, speaking the name more slowly because it was a lot of syllables. "Today can we do tennis again?"

"Yes," Yukimura said promptly. He had no plans with the boy, and he wouldn't say much to a deferral if he called and asked. "As long as it doesn't conflict with your father or sister."

The idea was surprisingly exciting. But it was hard to really devote his attention to it when said father was a constant distraction-- not that it was entirely burdensome, being distracted by someone he enjoyed looking at, someone who seemed to fit so seamlessly into his previously-disused kitchen.

"Maybe Yukiko-chan would enjoy it too," he said idly. She seemed to look thoughtful, but didn't commit.

"YAYYYY!" Keita said, again forgetting his indoor voice as he shot both arms into the air in celebration. Bunta glanced over his shoulder just in curiosity at Yukiko's reaction to the opened door for her. She hadn't been interested when he tried introducing her to the sport, but people and interests can change. It was kind of Yukimura to make sure the opportunity was there for her, lest she feel left out.

Over the next half-hour, eggs, sausages, and many varieties of toast made their way to the table. Yukiko got her traditional cinnamon toast baked separately in the oven while the other slices cooked in a skillet as three grilled sandwiches filled with sweetened cream cheese, each topped with peach slices and maple drizzle, banana with caramel, or strawberries and cream. A modest stack of French toast accompanied them for Hima and anyone else interested in seconds. Personally, Bunta thought it came out pretty well. Sure, it was a little strange having a grilled sandwich of sugar for breakfast, but it tasted like a cinnamon roll.

He did cut off one bite from the middle of his and pass it to Yukiko in a small dish. It was okay to like what you liked, but it was important to be comfortable trying new things, too. You never knew when you might be surprised with a new favorite!

Speaking of new things... He's pretty sure he isn't imagining the looks he's getting from Yukimura. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't sneaking a few himself. Things took a real turn last night, didn't they? Of course, he doesn't really remember much about it except that there was a kiss and they slept on the couch together until Keita woke them.

It feels strange in a way. His heart hasn't stopped loving Leia so much as it's made room for a new chapter-- just as it did over a decade earlier in reverse. Time really is a circle.

Yukimura has done so much for his family these last months, though. He's given Jackal his life back, and he's given Yukiko and Keita a warm, safe home. It means more than Bunta will ever be able to put in words. More than that, he's become a staple of daily life, providing structure and economic stability. Most of all, he's been a companion and teammate in tackling life's needs and struggles. Life has just been better since they joined forces. Referring to everyone in the home as family hadn't been accidental or deliberate, but simply natural.

As the day progresses and finally winds to a close, it's once again time for their celebration with drinks. He feels an unusual edge of something this time. Nervousness? Excitement? Something like that. He isn't going to bother trying to name it. It's their first real chance to see each other and talk since... everything the night before.

After getting Yukiko tucked in, he comes back downstairs and, instead of sitting down, starts wordlessly collecting the booze set-up into his arms.

Similarly occupied in soothing his daughter to sleep, Yukimura stopped thinking about whether or not and was now thinking about just getting the answer on the record.

He didn't need the answer to be one way or the other, he thought. He wasn't affected by a preference. He couldn't tell which answer would be more awkward to move forward with, if he was being honest, but that in no way swayed the preference he did not have.

He was simply driven by a desire for a final answer, and to put the whole question to bed. He was not at all anticipating getting themselves to bed. He had no preference, not until he saw Marui getting ready for their little evening ritual and thought about how cozy it was, how familiar it became.

He moved across the room as if possessed and pinned Marui to the liquor cabinet.

"Either you kiss me or we never bring this up again."

Get the booze upstairs, because Bunta knows what he wants, and he intends to signal it. And anyway, who wants to pause that in the middle of things getting hot because the location isn't private enough? Serious mood killer!

Seems Yukimura is thinking the same thing, and actioned with his unmistakable personal brand of overwhelming confidence and aloof command. The same energy that helped him dominate the courts and ensnare the hearts of an entire school. Bunta himself had been no exception. The pin startles him, but despite its aggressiveness it sparks only appreciation. Knowing what you wanted was attractive.

Eyes fearless and engaged, he wriggles a hand free to cup around Yukimura's jaw and nape.

"Well, that'd be a shame. I hope that isn't all you're expecting, though."

With a gentle pull forward, Bunta tilts his head and leans in with his answer.

Affirmation unlocks him. He can admit now in his own mind that he was hoping for this. It'll be something to laugh about with Bunta later, how much he was wanting to be right, anticipating the euphoria of the moment they connected like this.

Once he actually has Marui's lips on his instinct is to take more, keep going but--

"I don't need Keita to find you undressed and on the floor tomorrow," he said wryly, reluctant to pause but feeling the necessity keenly.

As abruptly as the kiss was demanded, and barely with enough time for it to even start, it's put on hold. For the best, but in the one moment it sure is a horrible tease.

Bunta can't help but laugh at the returned affirmation, though.

"You're right. Meet you upstairs with these?" He asks with indication to the bottles. "Or do you not want them?"

"Whatever you can do fastest," he said decisively.

And what is this about meeting? Yukimura tugs on his sleeve. "Or you could just come with me," he suggested, in the same tone he might have once said 'Or you could just win the match.'

The 'immediately' is implied about as subtly as a truck.

Message received loud and clear, Captain!

"Alcohol dulls the senses anyway," Bunta remarks as everything he'd gathered is collectively set back to rest on the table, and Yukimura leads them up the stairs together.

Yukimura speeds them up the stairs and behind his bedroom door. He only stops because he can't decide what he wants to do just yet-- pin him to the door and make out furiously or say something poetic about his eyes and it makes him laugh self-consciously.

"How bad is this going to be tomorrow?"

The anticipation is palpable. Bunta can feel it, too. It's in the quickened pace, the tension in his grip, and the tingling ache of disappearing warmth on his lips. It's the kind of energy Bunta could ride all evening. Almost feels like they're trying to get away with something. Well, probably Yukimura's first time with children old enough to walk in on you under the same roof. Maybe that feeling isn't far from the truth in his case.

The laugh is pretty adorable. He's nervous, isn't he? Bunta would be lying if he said he wasn't, too. It's a good nervous, though. Recognition of what these changes mean for them and for their children. What it will mean for him on a personal level. He takes a half-step into Yukimura's personal space, placing a hand on his arm as he does.

"I dunno. I'm thinking about how good it's gonna be."

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