Kagura was thinking.
It was 11:00PM, and most of the patrons were already gone – the only people still at the bar were Kagura, Hibiki, and the bartender himself. The resulting ambience was unusually silent: no chatter, no sounds of glass clinking, and no music, because the stereo system had been turned off at Kagura's request. Mr. Badguy finished cleaning the countertop and, as he had informed Kagura, was prepared to leave as soon as his shift was over – that was to say, in exactly ten minutes. Hibiki was still fast asleep, leaning against Kagura. Since there was nobody around to judge them, he let it slide.
Kagura was thinking. At least, that was what he was trying to do. His brain seemed to be screaming at him What? What? What? on repeat, which made it rather difficult to concentrate on anything else. He tried pinching himself on the arm; it didn't help very much.
Kagura took a deep breath and, this time, forced himself to think about something – anything – besides what had just happened here. Wasn't he forgetting something? He felt like he was forgetting something mildly important, something he should be remembering right about now, something he had wanted to ask someone else – someone like Hibiki. Then it clicked, and Kagura realized that had forgotten to ask Hibiki who he liked back then.
Well, it's not like he didn't know the answer now.
...This wasn't working.
Kagura gave up and dropped his head into his hands. You kissed him, you moron, he mentally berated himself. He was drunk off his ass, and you kissed him. That's pretty gay, dude. You can't even say you did it because you were drunk, because you know you haven't had nearly enough drinks for that. You've gone to meetings more inebriated than this and you know it. Even though Hibiki kept on talking and talking, and you couldn't stop him from pouring out all of his feelings even when you tried – you still didn't have to kiss him. And hell, wasn't that all part of The Plan in the first place?
Right... The Plan.
Kagura had already decided to completely and utterly screw The Plan. He admitted to himself now that it was a stupid idea. In hindsight, the problem had been right there in the blueprint, all the way from steps 1 to 4: Bar. Drinks. Alcohol . Kagura knew better than anyone how it messed with your head and made people say and do things they didn't mean, which was clearly what happened with Hibiki (although it didn't exactly help his own case, as his thoughts had pointed out) – and since that was what happened, everything that had occurred tonight was rendered meaningless. Damn you, alcohol! He could really use some right now.
Kagura lifted his head and checked the clock: there was still ten minutes before the night shift. In the end, he hadn't made as much use of the open bar as he originally planned, but he also didn't want to bother the bartender with making another drink this late into his shift. His eyes fell upon the last drink he had ordered for Hibiki: a tall glass of ombre liquid, bright orange at the base and crimson at the top, and left almost untouched. It was a bit girly for his tastes, but...
He picked up the glass, hesitating.
You already kissed him, dumbass, he reminded himself. Is stealing a drink that he might have already put his mouth on really any worse?
Kagura closed his eyes and chugged.
The drink went down easily. It went down really easily. Kagura lowered the now half-empty glass and swirled the contents; he took another sip, and it tasted just the same.
"Is this the Sex on the Beach?" Kagura asked the bartender, who was poking his head out the side-door exit for a smoke.
"Yes," he grunted.
"And is your Sex on the Beach alcoholic?"
"Yes." Mr. Badguy took a long drag.
"Huh." Kagura sniffed the liquid, shrugged, and drained the rest. "You guys sure do a good job of hiding it."
The bartender exhaled slowly, smoke trailing into the night air. "…'Cept that one isn't."
"What?"
"I'm saying the one in your hand is nonalcoholic, kid." He pointed at the glass that Kagura had just finished drinking.
Kagura slowly put down the empty drinking vessel, now feeling annoyed. "OK, why?"
"Bar policy. After a certain incident happened, we can't serve your guests any alcohol unless they show ID, no matter what uniform they're wearing." Mr. Badguy snorted as he said this. "That's what they told me, anyway. I hope you know what happened, 'cause I sure as hell don't."
"...Oh."
That explanation made sense, but something felt off. Kagura couldn't shake the feeling that something about that answer was inconsistent with what had happened tonight. His gaze traveled from the bottles on the wall to Mr. Badguy, then from Mr. Badguy to the empty glass, then from the empty glass to Hibiki, and finally from Hibiki to the bottles on the wall. Then realization hit him.
"Hold on. Are you telling me that none of the drinks you gave Hibiki was alcohol?"
"That's what I'm saying. Your little boyfriend there is as sober as I am." The bartender crushed the last of his cigarette on the ground with his shoe, checked his watch, and walked back inside with a sigh. "Five minutes, kid. Are you leaving or what?"
"But, but," Kagura sputtered, gesturing at Hibiki, "but – how? He still got drunk! …And did you just call Hibiki my little boyfriend?"
"It happens sometimes. Give someone what they think might be alcohol, and they act accordingly," explained Mr. Badguy, who seemed either ignorant or completely indifferent to the glares that Kagura was shooting at him. "Doesn't happen to everyone, but I'm guessing your friend doesn't drink much. It usually doesn't work if you know what being drunk actually feels like."
"That sounds about right," said Kagura, calming down a little. So he was still drunk, in a way? Another thought occurred to him, but he didn't dare ask it aloud.
"Placebo won't cause people to do or say things they would never think of doing sober, though," Mr. Badguy added, which answered the question that Kagura was thinking anyway.
Damn it!
The bar was silent as Kagura contemplated how he would proceed from here. A part of him was seriously considering staying for the night shift and drinking until he forgot everything that happened tonight, because he was out of options and he did not want to deal with the aftermath. There was no denying it: his secretary's feelings were decidedly un-platonic and not formed under the influence, and Kagura had crossed the final boundary of platonic bro-ship on his own free will. If Hibiki remembered any of this in the morning, he was screwed. Hell – if he remembered any of this in the morning himself, he was still screwed. Was it too late to start writing an epitaph? He could envision something like, 'Kagura Mutsuki: Fearless Leader of the Duodecim and Supreme Lover of (mostly) Women / He spoke fair, thought what he liked, and regretted everything.' Yeah, that had a nice ring to it.
...
Kagura really needed to be drunk.
The open bar was still open for five more minutes. At this point, he was willing to tip Mr. Badguy any amount if he could pour an extra-large whiskey before the end of the night. He reached for his wallet. The movement caused an unexpected shift in pressure on his side, and the weight against his shoulder suddenly slipped; Kagura turned around and, snapping back to the present situation with an acute sense of panic, remembered that Hibiki was still sleeping there and now he was falling –
Kagura reacted instinctively; he lurched forward out of his seat and caught the falling boy before either of them hit the floor, sending both chairs clattering on the floor. Hibiki's eyes flickered open, wide and confused.
"Hibiki! You alright?" he demanded.
Hibiki did not reply, merely staring at Kagura. After a few seconds, he nodded and slowly closed his eyes again.
A small wave of relief washed over Kagura – along with a dull stinging in his arm, for some reason. He looked down and realized that it hadn't just been his own lightning-fast instincts that had saved the younger man from crashing to the floor; Hibiki's arms were wrapped around his, clinging onto him tightly. Even as he nestled his head comfortably into Kagura's shoulder, his grip did not let up, as if he were afraid that Kagura would drop him again. The sight was oddly endearing, and also a bit sad.
Well, you are dropping him a metaphorical sense, aren't you? snarked a small voice in the back of his mind. Everything he said today was real. Are you just going to pretend you never heard any of it?
A guilty churning sensation started in the pit of his stomach, but Kagura was soon distracted by the feeling of soft hair tickling the side of his neck. Hibiki was asleep again and sinking his full weight against Kagura – which, all things considered, wasn't very much at all. His breathing was deep and even. Curious, Kagura slowly waved his free hand back and forth over his face. No reaction. He placed his hand on Hibiki's cheek and, on an impulse, began tracing his thumb over his half-parted lips. This produced a fleeting expression of irritation, and Hibiki buried his face deeper into the crook of Kagura's neck.
The bartender peered over the counter with a grimace. "Look, I gotta go. The open bar is closed. If you want to hang around for the night team, go ahead, but I need to bounce." If he had a comment about why they were now both on the floor all of a sudden, he didn't say it.
"Ah. Right."
Shit, Kagura had momentarily forgotten where they were and what he was doing. The guilt he had been feeling was mostly gone now and was replaced by a rush of something unfamiliar – something that felt like affection and excitement and protectiveness, perhaps a mix of all three. The unexpected compulsions and and unfamiliar sensations that had taken over him now felt peaceful. Either way, Kagura didn't feel like drinking much anymore.
Hey, someone has to get the both of us home. Might as well be the responsible one for once, chimed a small voice of reason in his head that he didn't even know existed, and it somehow reminded him of Hibiki. Kagura slapped Mr. Badguy's tip on the counter and gently hoisted the boy into his arms.
Maybe he would take Hibiki out drinking for real someday.