A/N Hey y'all, I am back from my month long, no reasons whatsoever hiatus with...not an update, but a new one-shot.

No need to tell me how awesome I am. (Hey, about 8.5K words-I am pretty fucking awesome, if I do say so myself.)

And for this story, let's pretend that same-sex marriage is already legal in Japan, because it's already an AU, and this is my fanfic.

Based on "The Wedding Sting" in Flint, Michigan during the late 1900s. You guys should search it up-it's really interesting.

Warnings: AU, violence (you know, policey stuff), shounen ai (boyxboy, yaoi, gayness, whatever term you want to use), innuendos, heavy swearing (mainly by Echizen, who's trying to prove that he's a big boy now), NO LEMON THOUGH, far too many parentheses to be normal, some Sakuno bashing (sorry, but I just don't like the girl), mature/dark themes, drug abuse

BTW, I have literally no knowledge on how law enforcement and police organizations work-not even in my own state, so definitely not in Tokyo. So I'm sorry if any of the facts or random "policey" shit I stick in here is completely wrong-basically, I'm going to be as vague as possible, m-kay? After all, everything I know comes from detective TV shows that have the main characters breaking the law just as much as they're enforcing it. (And any of the little bit of research I did on law enforcement in Japan comes from Wikipedia, so...yeah.)

Disclaimer: My dreams have been shattered into ash and rainbow-farting venomous man-eating monsters (unicorns).

Till Death Do Us Consummate

"Yadda."

"Come on."

"Yadda."

"Echizen..."

"Yadda."

Tezuka, feeling the oncoming headache that always seems to accompany the youngest member of the force, steeples his fingers together in an attempt to keep them away from his temples. Even with a legacy of managing to keep a stoic facade through a forty-day torture period, this brat-ahem, little boy, has managed to create a permanent tick in the man's face. "Echizen, it's just for one day."

The boy in question, one Echizen Ryoma, scowls and crosses his arms, glaring at his prefectural commander. Tezuka Kunimitsu-he's a legend in law enforcement. Having been the head of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department for who know's how long (nobody has ever dared to ask, and besides, with that permanent brick wall of a face, no one knows the man's true age, much less how long he's been working), Tezuka Kunimitsu has managed to break who know's how many records for anything even closely related to law enforcement: from the amount of solved cases to the shooting at point-blank and two thousand meter records (not to mention anything and everything in between-and after) to the most amount of aspirin bottles purchased (funnily enough, a rather sizable portion of the prefectural department's budget is solely dedicated to buying medicine for their constantly migraine-wracked commander). In general, Tezuka Kunimitsu should've been promoted a long time ago, but for some reason, the man seems to be unwilling to let go of his position in the prefecture, though he could potentially be a part of national-level security-and a high position, at that.

Even still, that doesn't excuse the man (in Echizen's bratty mind, at least) from what he is currently proposing.

"I am not going to marry the shitty dickwad!"

"You're not actually marrying him, you're pretending to marry him."

"I still have to fucking kiss him!"

"Echizen, language."

"I'm fucking twenty-one years old, I can fucking legally drink now. Okay, so no one fucking cares if you fucking do fucking underage drinking or smoking here, but still-I'm a fucking adult, I can fucking cuss if I fucking want, Tezufucking Kunimitshit, do you fucking get it?"

Tezuka raises an eyebrow at the younger man, once again feeling the urge to pop the aspirin pills sitting innocently in the innocuous little bottle just centimeters away from his hand. At this point, he is far too used to Echizen's trashy mouth (to be honest, it's nothing compared to Momoshiro's or Shishido's or Akutsu's-oh, lords above, Akutsu, part of the reason as to why Tezuka has a permanent second tick in his face) to particularly care about the amount of expletives came exploding out of the boy's mouth (eleven times-he counts every single time) or even the rather insulting warping of Tezuka's name. Still, it's rather concerning to see the rebellious spark in the boy's eye. Tezuka (and everyone else in the law enforcement field) knows very well just how much the boy-ahem, man-wonder looks up to and respects him, but not even that seems to be an obstacle to Echizen's seemingly all-consuming goal to show the world just how much of a brat he can continue being even when a legal adult-except this time, in a much more mature fashion.

Meaning the stuff of parents' nightmares.

"Anyways, I will not, and I repeat, will not marry the pompous ass who has sex with his mirror every night if we were the last two remaining humans on Earth. Besides, having two males for this operation? So soon after the legalization? Tezuka, do you have a fucking death wish?"

Tezuka sighs, an uncharacteristic show of exasperation that Echizen enjoys way too much. "Echizen, we are a progressive, mainly composed of males group of cops."

Echizen snorts, rolling his golden eyes. "Hmm, so progressive, we happen to even overcome that particularly hard chauvinistic barrier. Yeah, I get it. Oh, wait, does the fact that Ryuuzaki and the old hag work here part-time mean that we've suddenly become pro-gender equality? Because I swear, every time I see that girl blush, I want to throw her into a holding cell and put a brown paper bag over her face. She's sweet and all, but if that girl's not the fucking definition of a set-back in feminism, then I have no idea what is."

Tezuka, despite wanting to reprimand the boy for all of his (unfortunately) rude and (truthful) demeaning remarks, can't find it in himself to argue against the very good points that the boy, in his own crass way, has brought up. It has not escaped Tezuka's attention that the lack of (assertive) feminine presence in his department is rather...concerning. But as of the moment, he has no time to dwell on it, and despite Echizen's best efforts, Tezuka is a master at multi-tasking.

And bribing. Let's not forget that.

Sighing, Tezuka lays his steepled fingers down, resting his hands palms down on the clear glass work table in his large office. Being that he's the head of the department, he not only has his own office, one that is considerably larger than the cubicles or plain folding tables that the others of the department are forced to work in/on, he also has his own personal receptionist, skyline view, and coffee maker (which is convenient in the case of emergency aspirin popping pill contests with Sanada when the poor man comes to visit from the Kantou Prefectural Police Force, suffering mental trauma from being forced to do most of the heavy work-including reparations and profuse apologies-despite the fact that Yukimura is the head of that particular force, and that Kajimoto is more than capable of dealing with the enormous stacks of paper work that are permanently glued to Sanada's work desk). Raising his head, his brown eyes pierce into Echizen's remarkable golden ones. Even through the clear glass of his spectacles (which, thankfully, are not the opaque white of Inui's-now, that would be creepy), Echizen can feel Tezuka's fiery determination to force him into a nonconsensual marriage.

"If you accept this mission, I will personally make sure that a twelve-pack of grape-flavored Ponta will find its way onto your desk every work day that you have here."

Echizen couldn't put his name down fast enough.

"Why did I agree to this?" Echizen groans not a day later. After his meeting with Tezuka, Echizen practically skipped out of the office sharting rainbows-he was that ecstatic.

Although, eventually, all good things come to an end, and Echizen's temporary high came crashing down as his shift comes to an end, which is where we find him now, with his face planted on his desk. In contrast to his bratty, devil-may-be attitude, his working cubicle is surprisingly clean, due to his even more surprising perfectionist tendencies. He's sort of obsessive when certain things catch his attention-shooting, Karupin, and Ponta being prime examples of that tendency. Even though paper work and filing are hardly past times that would ever interest him, he spends a good eight or more hours a day (unless he's out in the field or on patrol-now, that's what he'd certainly call obsessive) on minimum wage working through such tedious clerk work, so it's no surprise that, after spending such a long time sitting at that very desk, he has planted and nurtured the seed of a compulsory need for a clean work space deep within himself that results in neat piles of paper, rows of color-coded stationery (and further subdivided into which ones are better for decapitation and/or castration, but no one else needs to know that), and a clean, sparkling surface. Nothing personal decorates his cubicle, unlike Kawamura's cubicle walls, which are completely covered in pictures of his family: his father holding a wickedly sharp sushi knife without a care in the world, his mother and younger sister playing cards on one of the tables in Kawamura Sushi, the aforementioned three plus Kawamura himself posing in front of the restaurant, brilliant smiles on all of their faces, and so on so forth. The occasional picture of people from work pops up, although only one picture of Akutsu is pinned up in that cubicle, and in it, the silver-haired man is flipping the bird at the camera lens, though everyone knows (and Akutsu himself is damn proud of that, even though he still doesn't like the idea of Kawamura having a picture of him) that the finger is meant for the cameraman. Even Tezuka has a picture-only one, and this happens to be a black-and-white, small framed portrait of his grandfather, a terrifying, domineering man who even has Akutagawa waking up to scramble to safety whenever he deems the department and day worthy enough to grace his grandson's filthy workplace (his words) with his demonic presence. Atobe, of course, covers his own office (he managed to bribe the higher-ups, the ones who are even higher than Tezuka, apparently, into giving him a larger office than the first cubicle he had been given, to which he had responded with such a temper tantrum, even Ootori, that ever-loving saint, got fed up with him) with life-size portraits of, you guessed it, himself, not even mentioning the mirrors that he installed. It seems that his self-obsession has no limits. Everyone in the department has some sort of personal decor, whether in the form of pictures, bric-a-brac, or ego-feeding mirrors (yes, even Akutsu), except for Echizen.

More than once, a curious co-worker has asked the man about the strange absence of personality in his cubicle, and Echizen's answer has always been the same: "Fuck off and mind your own damn shit," with variations depending on who asked him, usually with a signature "mada mada dane" and a smirk that borders on the edge of being a sneer. It's come to the point that no one bothers to give a second thought to the matter, not after poor Ryuuzaki (the younger one, not the old hag-regarding that grandma, Echizen, in the nicest way possible, still has no idea as to how she's still alive; the woman is clearly far too old to continue her line of work as a recruit trainer) was reduced to tears after Echizen gave her the same response he gave to everyone else when she asked, stuttering and blushing the entire time.

He still has no idea why-honestly, he didn't even cuss, minding the delicate state of her innocent mind (seriously, the woman is the same age is him, and she's still a virgin-though he'll never tell her that he overheard her crazy best friend, Osakada, bemoaning the fact that no one has yet "deflowered her lovely best friend" or some shit like that while he could practically hear Ryuuzaki's heavy blush as she tried-in vain, I might add-to quiet down Osakada's banshee scream of a voice), and yet Ryuuzaki still burst into tears.

Which only brings him back to his previous point of Ryuuzaki being the sweetest woman alive, but also, considering her demure, shy, conservative, and damsel in distress perception of the world, a huge setback to any sort of feminist movement in this world.

And that brings him back to the reason for his current annoyance and dread.

"Damn Tezuka and his conniving mind, the bastard," he grumbles under his breath as he turns his face to glare at the screen of his computer, smushing his cheek in the process. On the screen of the desktop, a blank e-mail page stares back at him, the cursor blinking almost tauntingly-how he's getting provoked by binary code, though, Echizen has no idea, but he's in that mood, the one that makes abso-fucking-lutely everything annoying as fuck. His eyes roll over towards his right, where an open drawer presents his perfect bundles of color-coded, decapitation/castration-coded stationery. Hmm...maybe I should use the stapler on his eyelids...nah, I'll pull his bottom lip over his jaw and staple it to his Adam's apple, then I'll use those enormous binder clips on his calves and thighs, and then I'll hole punch his chest so he has more than one hole to shoot that shit out of-but wait a moment, he already has two...hmph, he needs more than two if he doesn't want all that crap polluting his insides-ooh, and then, I'll use my pencils and stick them point-first up his nose, and maybe stick some bent paper clips into his ears...oh, and I can't forget the eraser...well, it's made of rubber, maybe he'll finally get some action, since I doubt that he's ever had to break out the actual rubber...wait, isn't he gay? Huh, weird, I don't know his sexuality...not that it interests me in the slightest. To top it all off, I'll shove a tape dispenser into his ass. That should be more action than he's gotten in his entire life...

"Brat."

But what about all the empty files I have? I don't think that I'll be using them anytime soon...maybe I can use them to further damage his genitalia.

"Brat, Ore-sama hasn't got all day to wait for a peasant like you."

Wait, I can't believe that I forgot about the scissors! Maybe I'll amputate his arms and legs-ooh, an even better idea would be to cut off his fingers! Ha! I can practically hear his screams now...then maybe the scissors can join that tape dispenser.

"Ahn, you insufferable peasant brat who won't even bother to pay attention to Ore-sama when Ore-sama has so generously decided to lavish you with Ore-sama's attention! Bow down and lick my shoes as your repentance!"

That annoying gnat that Echizen had been ignoring for the past few minutes as he internally monologued the slow torture of Tezuka Kunimitsu through the use of stationery buzzes a little too close to his face and, irritated, the man raises his hand and swats it.

Echizen blinks upon hearing the pained shriek that certainly doesn't belong to a normal gnat.

Finally abandoning his alarmingly dark thoughts, Echizen peels his face off the desk, rubbing slightly at his cheek, which is bright red from being pressed against it for so long. He turns a burning glare on the gnat-only to blink again upon seeing, not a gnat, but an even worse specimen: Atobe Keigo.

Echizen doesn't even bother to keep his sneer in check when he grumbles, "Monkey King."

Atobe, who is cradling his jaw, shoots a dark glare at Echizen. "Damned brat. Not only do you hit Ore-sama's beautiful face, you also had the audacity to call Ore-sama by that atrocious nickname. Did that pervert monk of a father not teach you any manners?"

The snarl that pulls at Echizen's lips only grows upon hearing Atobe's not at all covered insults towards his father and, by extension, his family. Insults towards himself, he's fine with, but drag the rest of his family into this, and that idiot won't live to see another day. "He did teach me manners. He also told me that pompous asses who have sex with their own reflections don't deserve any sort of common courtesy."

Atobe somehow manages to make sneers look attractive. "Why, you brat-"

"Did you want to tell me something? Because if all the Monkey King wants to do is brag about how awesome he is, I might as well make it very clear right now that I don't believe shit that comes out of the wrong hole. So fuck off, you sicko. When's the last time you've had sex, anyways? Oh, I bet it was just this afternoon, in that mirror-filled monstrosity you call an office."

Atobe's glare darkens even further, but, deciding that right now isn't the best time to engage in verbal sparring with the brat with one of the dirtiest mouths he's ever heard (and no, this is not turning him on), merely sighs and, after quickly prodding his abused jaw to make sure that nothing too damaging has happened to it, says, "Ore-sama wanted to discuss the details of the field operation."

Echizen, at first surprised that the most conceited (and, reluctantly admitted, attractive) man he has ever had the displeasure of meeting hasn't thrown a hissy fit or stormed off the way he had thought the older man would, quickly discards that surprise in favor of even more annoyance as he's reminded of just why he had been planning Tezuka's heavy mutilation just minutes before. "What's there to discuss, Monkey King?"

"Ore-sama has gained the mission details from Fuji, and Ore-sama, due to Ore-sama's bountiful charity and philanthropic nature, has decided to come and share the file with you."

Echizen, having already exhausted himself throughout the entire day, as well as that wonderful little, though short-lived, verbal sparring with Atobe, doesn't even bother to snap in response to Atobe's pretentious declaration. Grunting, the man accepts the manila folder from Atobe, quickly flipping it open to briefly scan through its contents.

As he does so, Atobe continues to ramble on. "This is going to be hard, even for Ore-sama. Ore-sama and you will have to go undercover for almost half a year, maybe more. These dealers play dirty-"

"Don't they all?" Echizen snorts, even as he runs a critical eye over the finer details, his mind already whirring to decide on the best course of action, on what and how to accomplish.

"-and we're going to have to play even dirtier. That's the way it works in the Underworld."

Echizen snorts again, glancing up at Atobe as he leans back in his chair with the folder laying open on his lap. "The Underworld? Really? Damn, you really are a pretentious dickwad." Despite the crassness of his words and the look of utter bewilderment and disdain on his face, the tone of his voice lacks the usual sting that accompanies such a comment, and for that, Atobe merely waves away the comment, continuing onward with his elaboration.

"Spend about half a year worming your and Ore-sama's way into their ranks, learn the inside and out of how it works, try not to get caught and killed..."

"All in a day's work," Echizen finishes with a smirk, flipping to the next page. "Or half a year's."

The answering chuckle from Atobe has Echizen, unfortunately, laughing along. "Ore-sama supposes so, brat."

"Wait, so why'd Tezuka choose both of us? Why not Fuji? I feel like Fuji would make a great drug dealer...or addict...no, he's more of a dealer, isn't he?" At Atobe's nod and amused smirk, Echizen turns his gaze back onto the papers before him. "Or what about Akutsu? He was in some shady shit not too long ago. I'm sure he'd be better undercover than either of us."

Atobe shrugs, leaning against the cubicle wall. Normally, he would never do such a thing, but he had seen just how obsessively Echizen cleaned the damn thing...like there's a curry stain on there that he just can't get out, no matter what he does. In all honesty, it's rather cute...but then Atobe berates himself for ever putting the words "Echizen" and "cute" together in the same sentence. "Well, as an heir to the Atobe company, Ore-sama knows far too much about shady, under the table dealings, as well as hidden meanings and word play. Ore-sama is experienced in portraying Ore-sama to be a completely different, so there is a perk there. Fuji is needed here, and besides, Tezuka is a bit afraid of letting any harm coming to him."

Echizen blinks slowly before a slow smirk spreads across his face. "No wonder why Fuji goes into Tezuka's office so often..."

Chuckling softly, Atobe nods his head in acquiescence to Echizen's comment. "Ore-sama assumes that that's the reason why. And while Akutsu may be more experienced with the Underworld, there's no guarantee as to how he will behave himself, especially when he's undercover."

Echizen raises an eyebrow. "So basically, you're saying that I...?"

Atobe smirks, turning around and practically sashaying away. "Indeed. Ore-sama is saying that you know how to keep that mouth shut."

Echizen glowers at the place where Atobe had been standing just moments before. "...fucking Monkey King."

Infiltration begins with Echizen, since no one trusted Atobe enough to buy coke without using that insufferable pronoun of his. He threw another hissy fit (he seems to specialize in those), but was eventually distracted by offers of beer and fancy French food that Echizen has no idea or wish to know how to pronounce. Honestly, that man has the attention span of a goldfish.

So there Echizen is, some time late at night or early in the morning (honestly, he doesn't know, nor does he care), stumbling into the opium den hidden in the basement of some random office building. His hair is mussed, wrinkled and obviously well-worn clothing hanging off of sharp, gangly limbs, golden eyes glazed and bloodshot, looking for all the world like some sort of crack addict-which, obviously, is what he's aiming for.

No one bothers to look at him as he staggers over to the dealer, a middle-aged man with sleeked back brown hair and a high as all hell look on his face. A grin stretches his lips upon catching sight of Echizen shakily reaching for the wad of bills in his back pocket, eyes lingering longer than necessary on that particular area.

Ignoring the lecherous look on the bastard's eyes, Echizen croaks, "How much?"

The man doesn't even bother to glance away from Echizen's ass as he gestures towards the box sitting next to him. "Normally 2500* a gram, but for you? How about 2350?"

Echizen fights down the shivers that threaten to roll down his spine as the man leisurely runs his gaze over body, his thoughts practically scrawling themselves across his disgusting face like it's a billboard. Where's the tape dispenser when you need one? "Can't you get it down a bit more?" Forcing his hands to shake, Echizen reaches out, desperation practically painted across his face. "I've had the worst fucking day."

The man's lecherous smirk widens. "How 'bout this: a little lap dance with that pretty ass and I'll get it down to 2000, and I'll throw in an extra joint for each gram you buy."

Echizen swallows, hands shaking a little bit more, but instead with indecision, as the other man seems to think, it's with the urge to wrap his hands around that fat neck. Tongue darting out to wet his lips, he once again ignores the way the man's eyes seem to follow the movement. "I-I..."

"Stop scaring the poor little kitty, Xander, and give him his crack."

Echizen's head whips around as he scrambles out of the way (all while internally monologuing on how pissed off he is at his current situation), his heart beat increasing as shallower breaths escape him. He was told that there'd only be one dealer, but it looks like a second is coming in, if the pile of boxes he's carrying in his arms is any sort of indication. "C-can I just have a couple grams?"

The first man, the one who demanded a lap dance, sneers but pulls the opium out. "Deal's off, then. 2500 a gram, cough it up."

Hands shaking even harder (don't kill them, Ryoma, don't do it), Echizen further extends the wad of bills. "Two grams, please."

A snort sounds from both men, and Echizen jumps slightly as the one in front of him swipes the money from his hand, dropping the drugs into his palm. Undoing the rubber band that had been keeping the bills together, he quickly flips through them, counting until he reaches the correct number. Nodding, he waves his hand in a disdainful dismissal, and Echizen quickly scampers out of the way, ducking his hand down so they don't see the absolute fury in his eyes.

By the end of this fucking mission, I swear that I'm the one who's gonna be behind bars...

The next six months become a sort of hell for the two undercover agents.

Forced to relocate into a completely different part of town, the two find out more about each other than they ever wanted to know as they try their best to maneuver around the new living arrangements. Atobe really didn't need to know that Echizen apparently got turned on by tattered cotton blankets (more than once, he had to wake up with a rather unmentionable feeling as Echizen's moans filled the room), and Echizen, in return, really didn't need to know that Atobe apparently moisturizes-even if he has the hair of a skinless mole rat (though that does explain that way too soft to be normal creamy skin). Atobe, being the spoiled brat of a "man" he is, constantly complains about anything and everything he could possibly deem horrid, from the tiny room he's forced to live in with Echizen that's smaller than the smallest broom closet in his mansion to the ungodly sounds that easily penetrate the thin walls. Echizen, meanwhile, is feeling his already tiny reservoir of patience quickly thinning out with every subsequent whine or curse that explodes from his "partner's" (and he uses that term loosely, because it implies a sort of camaraderie that neither he nor the Monkey King have any wish of emulating) mouth. Eventually, it comes to the point where Atobe makes a complaint, Echizen explodes and begins to scream at him, Atobe screams back, and once they exhaust themselves, they end up lying on their beds, backs to each other, even though, in the tiny confines of their living quarters, they're practically forced to be glued at the hip no matter what.

Setting aside their obvious discomfort with their living situation, they are quickly integrated into the Underworld. With Echizen's first exposure to under the table (really, under the floor) dealings, the two become regulars at the place, sometimes going out separately, other times coming together. In order to pull the charade off successfully, the two act sickeningly sweet in public-or rather, like they can't keep their hands off each other. The man who had first sold Echizen the opium, now identified as Sakurafubuki Hikomaro, a man who Echizen is now forced to be on a first-name basis with, doesn't seem to mind at all, even bothering to "offer" himself as a sort of...toy.

Echizen still wrangles with the desire to brutally maim the man.

It doesn't take long for them to gain a list of connections that branches throughout the entirety of the Tokyo Underworld. While no one has grand delusions of being able to bust every single participator in the shady (not to mention illegal) business, both Echizen and Atobe are internally ecstatic over the overwhelming amount that they're able to amass.

Even as they continue to gather intel, they are forced to buy a large amount of drugs of all sorts, which they are further forced to pretend to consume in public. Being undercover cops, if they refused to do so, they would seem suspicious under the trained eyes of dealers who are veterans in the business-but if they do, their testimonies and all they hard work they put into the mission might possible be considered null and void due to substance abuse.

It takes a good helping of wit and fast thinking to evade dangerous situations, and even more so to get their way out of one. Echizen, on his way back to the apartment once, was ambushed by a group of thugs who almost had their way with him before he managed to create a distraction using a litter of very sleepy, and later, very irritated mother cats and slip away. Atobe was almost attacked by a man accusing him of being an undercover cop. To prove it, he took a hit, and ended up taking five more. He woke up to a near panicking Echizen who almost attacked Atobe himself upon seeing the older man awake.

Every week, Echizen goes out and walks several blocks to reach an unassuming parking garage. Any normal citizen would assume him to be going back to his car to go home after a long night out, any participator in the Underworld would assume him to be hitting up with a random dealer, but he's doing neither of those things. Hidden in one of the darkest corners on the third floor, he carefully details every single exchange and interaction he has with every single dealer he has had contact with in the past week inside of the car into a recorder. Once he's done, he leaves again, no trail or path that can be easily followed leading back to him.

Throughout the six month time period, the two undercover agents end up making close to 150 buys each from a combined amount of dealers they manage to connect with-a number that may not be the largest compared to other operations', but is still quite impressive, and more than incriminating. As they spend more and more time in the Underworld, they grow closer and closer to the dealers, even going so far as to entering the business themselves to further cement their "trustworthiness" (luckily, Tezuka managed to finagle-legally, mind you-a warrant from the government to pardon Atobe and Echizen's involvement in the market itself on grounds of getting into the role or some bullshit like that).

But even as the two grow closer to dealers, they also grow closer to each other. Months prior to this arrangement, the very idea of holding a conversation, screw that, even being so much as in each others' presences without dissolving into a mess of barbed insults and acidic curses is absolutely ludicrous, but then again, they didn't know that they'd practically be attached by the hip. The fact that Echizen is forced to shove his tongue down Atobe's throat on multiple occasions to pass the two off as some sort of lusty, in love couple only serves to bring the two to a sort of silent ultimatum.

Not to mention the fact that they're going to have to marry at the end of the mission.

"It's finally time."

Tezuka grunts at the astute observation, staring out of his office windows thoughtfully, face as stoic as ever. Fuji sits across from him, a warm cup of tea in his dainty hands, the matching saucer sitting on the desk atop a glass coaster. Strangely (or maybe not so strange after all), these past six months have been rather...dull without the constant complaints and superior proclamations of Atobe and whirlwind of cussing and chaos that accompanies Echizen wherever that man blows. The two seem to be doing well, even if they've run into a few bumps along the way. No field mission is expected to go without a hitch, especially not one as intensive and dangerous as this one. To be perfectly honest, Tezuka is more than grateful that the most danger the two have faced is a couple dealers who had to be dealt with accordingly upon discovering that the two are actually blue jackets due to a rookie mistake (it seems that those two can't seem to get rid of their overwhelming urges to insult each other, even in such a compromising situation).

Now, though, it's almost time. On the last meet-up, Echizen has told them that it would be best to host the wedding sometime soon-preferably, in a couple of weeks. Some dealers have been on their tail, and with the amount of evidence that the two have amassed, they should be able to get at least a couple hundred big-time dealers life sentences. So now, the department has put on hold as many cases and other normal duties as possible in order to start organizing the most believable wedding possible. Honestly, the place is starting to look like a boutique, what with all the fancy decor and apparel hanging around.

Fuji takes a small sip from his cup, calmly observing Tezuka's profile. To be perfectly honest, Tezuka had wanted Fuji to accompany Echizen in the mission-something about their "relationship" being more believable, not to mention the fact that the two actually do get along quite well, in contrast to Echizen's toxis relationship with Atobe, but Fuji had other things in mind.

Particularly the sexual tension between the two men.

One would have to be blind to not notice the way Atobe devours Echizen's frame with his eyes the way a starving man would food, or the way Echizen licks his lips every time Atobe opens his mouth to talk. Honestly, the two have more potential to be a couple than anyone else in the department-the two already argue like an old married couple, and with the amount of times that "fuck" and "sex" has come up in their conversations, it's not too much of a leap to assume what the two want out of each other.

Even in such a risky situation, Fuji continues to retain his devious schemes, of which the top priority is getting Echizen and Atobe together.

Deeming his tea a bit too bitter, he spoons a sprinkling of sugar into the liquid, lightly stirring the amber liquid with the spoon before setting it down on the saucer. Tezuka sighs, turning in his chair slightly to glance back at Fuji.

"Yudan sezu ni ikou."

Fuji chuckles. "Of course."

"Damn that's a lot of drugs." Mukahi whistles, raising an eyebrow at the truck filled to the brim with sacks of toxic shit. More and more are coming-both from Echizen and Atobe who tried their hardest to not actually consume what they bought and from other recon missions to get enough to attract dealers like moths to amber.

Fuji Yuuta shrugs, hands in his pockets. His older brother is somewhere inside, probably mooching off with Tezuka. Honestly, that aniki...he has no sense of the gravity of the situation...then again, it could be argued that he has no sense whatsoever. "I mean...we kinda have to for this to work out. I just hope that Echizen** and Atobe aren't hurt or anything..."

Mukahi snorts, glancing at the man standing next to him. Personally, he prefers the younger Fuji to the older one. Despite the fact that Fuji Syuusuke is no doubt a tensai, a complete master at what he does, Fuji Yuuta is much more grounded and...normal than his older brother. To a certain extent, he sees things that his brother would never catch-a tensai in his own right. He may not have the exceptionality of his older brother, but he's certainly more tolerable than his brother-and a certain other red-haired hand-to-hand combat specialist. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure that it's more likely that those two killed each other instead of some random-ass shit dealer. I just wish that those two fucked already."

Ootori, who was passing by just in time to hear Mukahi's words, lets out a small, shocked gasp-why, though, neither Mukahi nor Fuji can understand, since Mukahi comments on the (burgeoning) relationship between Echizen and Atobe on a daily basis. "Mukahi! That is a very rude, not to mention inappropriate, thing to say about your coworkers!"

Mukahi sighs, crossing his arms behind his head and leaning back on the balls of his feet. Fuji is always terrified around Mukahi, who's body is always in some weird position or another. He feels as if the red-haired man is going to topple over and get a concussion any day, but Mukahi has yet to prove him right. "Come on, Chotarou, not even you can deny the fact that those two are practically drowning in sexual tension. I've been waiting ever since Echizen hopped on board for one of those two to jump the other's bones and start sucking face-or another place, if you know what I mean-OW! YUUTA! I THOUGHT YOU WERE THE PACIFIST!"

Fuji's face is painted a brilliant red as he pulls his fist away from Mukahi's shoulder. "Not everyone cares for your perverted comments, Mukahi. And it's not like I'm technically a pacifist-if I was one, I wouldn't even be here in the first place. It's just that aniki has a...particular taste."

Mukahi snorts, scowling as he rubs the spot on his arm where Fuji had decided to introduce his fist. That's an example of the differences in talent between the two brothers-Syuusuke specializes in torture and interrogation, with the use of more elegant methods while Yuuta...talks with his fists. "Particular taste my ass. He gives me the fucking shivers every time I walk past one of those rooms he's so fond of. You're bro's a monster, Yuuta."

Fuji shoots Mukahi an unamused look. "You think I don't know that?"

"Truck's loaded!"

The shout from one of the interns draws the three officers' attentions to the truck, where they watch as its doors are closed and Tachibana accepts the keys from someone, a silent Kabaji shadowing him as they get inside.

As the trio watch the truck roar into life and begin to drive towards the location of the window, they hear Oishi calling for all operators. Turning around, they head inside, a wild grin splitting Mukahi's face in half. "Looks like it's starting."

Meanwhile, Tachibana reaches the tiny, secluded, and dilapidated building perfect for a wedding between two drug addicts/dealers. Parking round the back, he quickly jumps out of the truck, glancing at his watch as Kabaji, on orders from Tezuka before the two posing as accomplices of Echizen and Atobe left, checks the inside of the truck to make sure that all the bugs wired in place are functional and ready to be activated.

10:26 AM

Thirty-four more minutes until the first group arrives. In that time period, Oishi and Mizuki would have to organize all the operators and take them into the building, where at that point, they would wait for the exchange to take place, then for Tachibana's signal. He fingers the button on his watch lightly, which he'll be covering with the sleeves of his jacket later on. No need to give any sort of indication to some of the biggest (how Echizen and Atobe managed to integrate themselves so far into the black market and get so far in its twisted hierarchy in just six months utterly confuses Tachibana-but then he decides that it's probably because those two are just as fucked up as those people are, and, to be honest, no one can blame the poor guy who seems to be one of the few sane people in the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department) people in the business.

After Kabaji thoroughly checks the truck, the two can do nothing but wait. As they wait, the operators quickly slip into the wedding hall, a few of them laughing at the sight of a picture of Atobe and Echizen in tuxes actually smiling at each other (it's no secret that Tezuka blackmailed the two into doing it-after all, the head of the department had to have some sort of validation) before heading into the back area, where a couple of perfectly installed doors would let them easily burst out and swarm the guilty parties once Tachibana gives the signal.

11:01 AM

Almost exactly on time, a car pulls into the parking lot, and a group of people step out. A woman steps up and leads the group towards Tachibana and Kabaji, who, despite their relaxed poses, are alert and ready to go on the defensive (or offensive) at the first sight of trouble. The woman stops in front of the two, and her posse fans out behind her. She exchanges words with Tachibana before a man hands her a shoebox. She opens the lid and shows its contents to Tachibana, whose eyes widen slightly, before he opens the back doors of the truck, revealing the sacks piled atop each other.

The woman carefully steps into the truck, inspecting the bags, poking them and loosening the ties on some to sniff its contents before nodding in approval and jumping down. Her goons step on, grabbing the bags and tossing them down as she hands the shoebox to Tachibana, who accepts it and hands moves around the truck to tuck it into a safe little area where it won't be stolen. Kabaji, meanwhile, moves to help them pile the sacks into the car. Just as they manage to squish the last sack into the car, Oishi feels the watch wrapped around his wrist vibrate, and he slams open his door, his group pouring out like bees swarming a person who dared steal their precious honey. Before the woman and her subordinates can even blink, they're surrounded, guns pointing at them, shouts and demands for them to raise their hands and drop their weapons filling the air.

First group: down.

And so the process repeats itself. From 11:00 AM to 2:00 PM, a three hour period, the consecutive groups of drug dealers who think that they're going to get an enormous stash are ambushed and shipped to detainment, as Tachibana and Kabaji continue to recycle all the bags of drugs while keeping the money given to them by each dealer.

At 2:00 PM, an hour before the start of the ceremony, once the cops quickly wrap up the last group, Tachibana drives the truck back to the police department, his and Kabaji's role in the plan done now.

With a little more than a quarter of the long list that Echizen and Atobe had managed to procure over the past six months having been arrested, the hard part starts now.

As the "guests" begin to filter in, weapons and drugs not very well-hidden on their persons (then again, considering that this is the union between two very well-known drug dealers, it's not like there's really a point in hiding those things at all), Echizen and Atobe, along with all of the wedding staff and the cops who're pretending to be hardened criminal family and friends (Tezuka had to blackmail Akutsu into agreeing into pretending to be Atobe's older brother), welcome them with cheerful greetings and an announcement of the coke raffle they would be having after the ceremony, during the reception (which, by the way, would never happen).

Surprisingly (and thankfully), all of the "guests" show up relatively on time-at least, all of them are present to witness the exchanging of the vows and the kiss.

Most are watching somewhat respectfully, though the undercover cops are all trying their damnedest not to burst into laughter at the sight of Echizen and Atobe facing each other at the altar, hands grasped in what most would mistake for gentility but is actually a complete internal war between the two, even as their eyes are locked in-well, I think you get the idea.

As the fake priest (who happens to be Momoshiro in disguise, who, out of everyone, is having the hardest time to keep his shit at the sight of Echizen pseudo-marrying Atobe) announces the vows, Echizen has to force himself to stare up at Atobe with as much sickly adoration as possible, even though he feels sick to the stomach. His internal rant about maiming Atobe with cake knives and sugar teaspoons isn't doing anything to calm his racing heart down-which, by the way, is racing because of his pure, undiluted rage, and not because of how delectable Atobe looks in his suit (more so than usual), or how he's actually enjoying the warmth of Atobe's grip on his wrists (which should piss him off-Echizen can assert himself very well, thank you very much), or even how he actually wants this to be real-

Shut the fuck up, Ryoma.

Atobe, far too aware of the internal fuming that his partner has running through his head, can only watch in amusement as Echizen's smile grows tighter and tighter with each subsequent word that comes out of Momoshiro's mouth. By now, Atobe has no qualms with admitting that, yes, he is incredibly attracted to Echizen's body, and that mouth of his...the things he would do to Echizen's mouth. At least he's not as much in denial as the younger man is in, but for now, he'll just enjoy the situation.

He can deal with these pesky feeling later on.

The two never get to exchange their kiss.

The signal goes off, and in that moment, every cop in the place has their guns out and pointing at a dealer. There's no chance for any of them to pull out their guns, and they all gape as Echizen, who ripped himself from Atobe's grip the moment the signal went off, announces in a laughing voice, "Anyone who's a cop in here, stand up!"

A few fuck you's and damned cheeky brat's are heard, but laughter echoes in the room as Tezuka orders the dealers to put their hands in the air and drop their weapons.

And as they do that, Momoshiro, wanting to have a little celebratory fun, clears his throat and announces, "You may now kiss the bride."

Echizen whirls around to glare at him when a hand suddenly turns him towards Atobe and the diva leans down, pretentiously dipping the younger man in the process, pressing their lips together.

A shocked silence follows the action before a few cheers and catcalls erupt, followed by raucous laughter as the two kiss for a minute (or more, but Echizen will never admit that-nor will he ever admit that he actually liked the kiss) before pulling away.

Echizen, who has plenty to say (or scream) to Atobe, only swallows before breathing huskily, "So I'm the woman in this relationship?

Atobe throws his head back and laughs before pulling Echizen even tighter to him. "Ore-sama loves you."

"Oh shut up, fucking Monkey King."

The government gets so mad about the fact that they arrested so many people (apparently, the local courts are overwhelmed by the amount of people coming in), it decides to give everyone involved in the mission a nice, long vacation.

Echizen and Atobe have a very productive vacation.

*In Japanese yen, not USD. I'm using an estimated exchange rate of this year of 100 yen to 1 USD, so 1 g of opium would be $25 in this story.

**Sorry for being too lazy to add suffixes.

Sorry for how shitty that was. It started off great, but I felt like describing their six month long mission would not only take too long and too much knowledge of things that I would probably mess up, but also that it would get repetitive, so the mission itself was rather vague and rushed... Even so, I hope you guys enjoyed. Just wanted to do a little Royal comedy, turned out differently once I actually did a little research and used common sense, but...

Anyways.

Thanks for staying all the way through that to the end, and if you did like, comment what you liked because I'm not sure what could possibly make you like this rushed piece of hot mess, and check out my other works. #shamelessselfadvertising

Yeah. Peace, see ya next time, hope you liked it!

Never (LivingDaLife)