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[ His equilibrium’s shot. The trek up to Adachi’s apartment isn’t an easy one. Looking any more than three feet ahead of himself gets his head spinning, and every step he takes ends in a stumble. He has one arm craned around his partner’s shoulder for support, and he occasionally sways into the man’s smaller frame as he drags himself gracelessly up the stairs. It's saturday night (or more accurately, an early sunday morning), and Dojima's had just a little too much to drink. ]

..Shhheeesh, y'figure this kinda place would have an elevator or sshomething.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

S’crooked s’what it is.

Edited 2009-11-18 15:30 (UTC)

[The unexpected weight makes Adachi sway back, and he blinks down at the crown of Dojima's head with a slight frown. Sheesh, the guy was sloshed, all right. His tie tugs tight occasionally around his neck as Dojima fumbles with it, and Adachi rolls his eyes while Dojima can't see it, hoping that his superior didn't decide now, of all times, to become a liar about not wanting to vomit.]

I don't know if you're really in tip top condition to be fixing it right now, though, sir.

[He says this with a small sigh, not even bothering to push Dojima off. Instead, he pats the man on the back (not too heartily, since he doesn't want the impact to make him sick).]

Sure you don't want to sleep it off?

There.

[Well. It's straighter if not exactly straight. Adachi blinks down at it, secretly impressed with the amount of coordination Dojima apparently still retained (or secretly annoyed that even while drunk, the other man could do a tie better), and breaks into a small smile without even needing to prompt himself to. He lifts up the tip of it.]

Hey, this actually isn't bad, Dojima-san.

'Course it isn't! You never learn how to tie a tie or shumthing?

[Moment over. Maybe it's the alcohol, or maybe it's the fact that Dojima won't remember this in the morning anyway, but he seems a little less spineless.]

O-of course I did! Mine was all right too, you know! Anyway, we're home, so I don't even need to wear this inside.

[In what probably looked like embarrassment (it was just annoyance), Adachi turns away and hastily slides off his tie anyway, depositing it in a heap on a nearby table. He shrugs off his jacket and throws that over the arm of the couch too. In just his rumpled shirt, his age catches up with his appearance even more obviously.]

I'm going to go get you a blanket or something, sir.

Hey! I jusht tied that, y’know! ..Don’t gotta go throwin’t off like that.

M'not even tired.

[Complaints or not, Adachi returns a minute later holding a folded-up blanket, and he pushes this onto Dojima's chest.]

I'm sure you will be once you close your eyes, sir. We've been working pretty late and all, after all. It'd be a wonder if you weren't even the least bit beat. I know that I'm pretty worn down with all this overtime, and you pull even longer hours than me, so why don't you-

[Maybe he's trying to lull Dojima into sleepiness with rambling.]

Yeah, yeah.. If y'r wanna wush out and go to sleep just say sso.

Che. Figured s'much as you use your mouth to make'up excushes you could 'least hold a convershation.

[Adachi's eyes barely narrow - only for a split second, because he's much too rehearsed in this role to let it slip for too long. He doesn't leave the couch, sitting on the edge and nudging his way further on to the seat (probably to Dojima's discomfort, but he's either oblivious to it or pretending to be). He runs a tired hand through his hair, sending loose ends sticking up.]

All right, Dojima-san. If you wanted to talk, why didn't you just say so? What do you want to talk about?

Y’don’t gotta humor me.

Go’n to bed.

[One corner of his mouth lifts a little higher than the other, making his smile lopsided, more of a smirk. It becomes a little more sincere, too, even if it's only his amusement that's sincere. He nudges at Dojima's shoulder with the palm of his hand, leaning forward a little.]

Aww, c'mon, Dojima-san. Don't you wanna talk to me? I wouldn't mind talking to you about something that isn't work, for once.

M'don't really got nothing worth talking 'bout not work related..

Don't really give myshelf 'nough free time to do much 'sides drinkin.. N'I don't really got nobody ssides from my nephew an' my daughter.

[He says it off-handedly, not even looking at Dojima, eyes wandering around his living room, over the contour of the television set, the empty chair, the dark doorway. He says it like it's simply the next thing to say in a conversation heading down this vein, like it's the automatic response.]

Heh, what, you're saying you're lonely?

Lonely, huh?

'Guess I am.

[For a moment, silence - not even the ticking of the clock, because it's digital, and not even the drip of a leaking sink. Even outside, it's still, the heavy Inaba fog making even the wind negligible. Then, the shift of fabric, as Adachi half-turns, looking down at Dojima over his shoulder.]

A nephew and a daughter are more than a lot of people have, you know.

[Maybe it's the alcohol talking. Maybe it's the bitterness.]

Lot a people desherve’m more than I do too. I’m a horrible father.. ain’t too good an uncle either. Guess without Chisato I don’t really know how..

… To talk t'kids, I mean.

[Again with the wife. If Dojima became drunk enough, he would always fall back to this subject. It hadn't taken long to figure out what exactly was haunting the man's step - it was obvious from the way he tore through newspapers, but always lingered on articles about automobile accidents. In addition, Dojima probably spent more time in Adachi's company than in that of his own family's. It hadn't taken long at all. Dojima Chisato's memory hung over her husband like a haunting silhouette. Adachi doubted he'd ever be able to forget. The man was ruined by it.]

You could start out small, sir. I mean, I met Nanako-chan, and I bet she'd be more than willing to try anything out for you. She's your kid, after all.

Nephew’s better with ‘er than I am.

[Talk about a downer.]

It'd just take practice.

[Encouraging is what he's supposed to be now, so encouraging is what he is, throwing a bright smile over his shoulder brimming with confidence, blinding enough to hide that mocking smirk underneath.]

I'm sure you can do it, sir.

Practice, huh? Maybe you're right. M'can't say I know where t'shtart though.

...Always end up sayin all the wrong things. Not too good of a talker, I guess.

Nah, I mean, I get what you're saying eventually, sir.

[He pats Dojima's shoulder (but not with too much force, in case the man got dizzy and decided to go back on his vow not to spill his guts on his living room couch.]

It just takes some work. But I get you.

[It wasn't hard, after all. Dojima was a surprisingly simple man - all of these country folk were. They were easy, they were watered-down. If you fed them the right things, they'd eat it up, like they were starving for it.]

Thanks, Adachi.

‘Feels almost like you’re the only one that’ll understand me when I talk about this kinda shtuff.

[Adachi almost burst out laughing. His jaw tightens for the briefest moment, in a small, nearly-unnoticeable gesture that could've been interpreted as nervousness instead. The sound never makes it out of his throat. He could take the shot right now. Dojima was wide open. He could take this weakness and twist it until it withered in his grip and he could rub every single thing Dojima has ever said to him into the other man's skin until it burned in like acid.

Adachi pats his cheek instead, almost kindly.]

Don't sweat it, Dojima-san. A guy's gotta have someone to tell this stuff too, right? We're partners, after all. It's what we should do for each other.

Think so..?