To be completely honest, I had no idea where I was going with this when I first started writing it. I started about five different fics before I finally decided to go with this one. (Writer's block is hard, I tell you.) But yeah. That's the story of how I ended up with 7k words of badly written role-reversal fic.
Warnings include shounen-ai, grammar mistakes / general errors, magician/detective!Kaito, thief!Shinichi, etc. Title from "Our Song" by Matchbox Twenty (because I already have a fic called "You for Me," otherwise I would've named this "You and Me," but anyway).
Hope you enjoy! – Luna
Change These Fault Lines
Five years ago, if you had asked Shinichi what he thought he would be doing in the future, he would've answered police officer. Or soccer player. Or violinist. Or even astronaut or dog walker or calculus teacher or – or professional mermaid. Just – something vaguely within the realm of acceptable occupations. Anything but a thief, because if there was one thing Shinichi was, it was an upstanding, productive member of society who would hopefully never have a criminal record of any kind.
Shinichi sighed heavily at the thought of a clean criminal record as he finished unscrewing the rusty grate covering the entrance to the air duct, setting it aside carefully. How the mighty fall and all of that, he supposed.
Peering down through the opening, he caught sight of the Crimson Princess, an oversized sapphire amulet ringed with ostentatious little diamonds, sitting on an obnoxiously red velvet cushion underneath a glass case in the middle of the display hall. There was a circle of guards standing sentry around the stand, all facing outwards because apparently looking away from something was the best way to guard it. It was literally the most stereotypical jewel setup Shinichi had ever witnessed, and he'd witnessed a lot of setups, probably over a hundred at this point.
Running a hand through his hair, Shinichi resignedly pulled on the cloth face mask he always wore, set his modified glasses on the bridge of his nose, checked his wristwatch, and dropped easily from the air duct. He landed with barely a sound. The sleeping gas grenade he unpinned and dropped, though – that made a loud clunking noise that startled several guards into looking over their shoulders.
Minutes later, Shinichi was strolling down the front steps of the mansion, Crimson Princess twinkling in one of his gloved hands and a trail of unconscious guards in his wake.
Dropping the glistening jewel into one of the pockets of his blazer, Shinichi tugged off the mask and glasses and tucked both of them away. It was a little sad how easy this was, he thought morosely, before turning right at the bottom of the stairs and starting down the sidewalk. Honestly, he just wanted to find Pandora, bring down Snake and whomever he worked for, and be done with all the crime. Not only was it wrong morally, but it was also boring. A life of crime wasn't supposed to be this unexciting.
"And that's why you, Erika-san, have to be the murderer," Kaito announced, gesturing at the pale-faced girl holding her husband's arm in a white-knuckled grip. "Literally no one else could have done it except you." A murmur went through the gathered spectators, accompanied by the sound of scuffed dress shoes shuffling against the marble floor of the ballroom and too-tight silk dresses brushing as the party's attendees made disparaging, shocked comments behind gloved hands.
Erika stomped one stilettoed foot hard enough that the crowd immediately went silent. Kaito marveled that the heel didn't snap off entirely. "And the motive? I'd never hurt Haruka! She was a friend!"
"A friend who was sleeping with your husband," Kaito said, to a marked increase in the volume of the whispering. At Erika's side, her husband went rigid, the line of his throat rolling as he swallowed visibly. "You claimed to be close to Haruka-san, yes, but she wasn't a friend. That's your motive." He tilted his head at her, hooking his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans as he leaned against one of the oversized, likely structurally unnecessary pillars behind him. "There's physical evidence, too. Your left glove –" he nodded at her left hand, which she had placed in the crook of her husband's elbow, "– has blood on it, doesn't it? That's why you've been holding your arm so unnaturally ever since the murder. You didn't want anyone to see the stain."
Her husband was looking at her as if he'd never seen her. He took a slow step away, jerking his arm out of her grip. "Erika –"
Face crumbling, Erika yanked away, cradling her hand to her chest. "I – Daisuke, please, you have to understand that I only did it because I love you –"
"And I think that's a good enough confession, don't you?" Kaito remarked brightly, extricating one hand from his pocket to snap his fingers. Erika gasped as a pair of handcuffs appeared around her wrists in a puff of rose pink smoke, turning to give Kaito the kind of horrified look people usually saved for discussions of poverty and cancer.
"How dare you –"
Appearing to take this as his cue to come out of the shadows, Inspector Megure cleared his throat loudly as he motioned Takagi to go collect her. He cast a half-amused, half-irritated glance at Kaito. "You really shouldn't do that, Kuroba-kun. The actual arrest should be left to the police."
Kaito shrugged, straightening. "I've got to find some way to carry on the family trade, don't I? My dad won't like me slacking off." He gave the inspector an impish grin and a salute that ended in a tiny fireworks show. Megure, who had witnessed Kaito diving off a forty-floor building once and causing objects to combust spontaneously at least four times, barely reacted. "I should probably get going. It's late and all."
"Wait, before you go," Megure called as Kaito began to stride towards the gilded front door. "Nakamori from the theft division contacted me about you a few days ago."
"Nakamori, as in Aoko's dad?" Kaito stopped in his tracks, looking back at Megure with incredulity. "What does he want from me?"
Megure grimaced. "I'm fairly certain that he wasn't too thrilled about having to ask for your help, and apparently he was too ashamed to go straight to you. But lately the theft division has been having some trouble with jewel theft, and they can't catch the thief. They wanted to ask for your assistance."
"My assistance?" Kaito feigned humility before he smirked. "Isn't it a little sad that an entire division of trained police officers can't handle one thief on their own?"
With a sigh, Megure shook his head at Kaito. "From what I've heard, I don't know if you can handle him, either."
"Well, I like a challenge," Kaito reminded him, inwardly noting just how true the statement was. He'd been feeling a little – well, not bored, quite, but maybe not entirely interested in the endless stream of cases he'd been helping with lately. Some petty thievery might make things a little more interesting. He doubted it'd be truly difficult to catch the thief, though.
It was supposed to be just like any other night.
Shinichi had disabled the museum security via some semi-remote hacking, like always. He had crawled through what felt like several kilometers of air ducts, like always. He had put on his glasses and mask, like always. He had dropped lightly down beside the stand that the Golden Nymph was sitting on, like always. He collected the gemstone from underneath the glass case, like always. He tucked the gemstone into his coat pocket, like always.
He took one step towards the door and floodlights illuminated the display hall – not like always.
Squinting, Shinichi leaped backwards, narrowing his eyes against the glare. Just between two of the lights, he could make out a figure approaching, hands tucked behind them and head slanted at a jaunty angle.
"So you're the illustrious thief who's giving Nakamori so much trouble," the person commented. They had drawn close enough that Shinichi could make out a well-cut jawline, a mess of chestnut brown hair, and bright indigo eyes, part periwinkle and part cyan and all amused. It was a man – young, probably around Shinichi's age, and exuding confidence. "This wasn't too difficult, if you ask me. I was right to insist coming here alone."
Narrowing his eyes, Shinichi reached into the inside of his coat – but the man just shook his head. He unclasped his hands from behind his back, and Shinichi's stomach twisted to find that he was holding a gas mask. "If you're going to try to use sleeping gas on me, I advise you to think again." He smirked arrogantly. Shinichi felt a flash of annoyance. "I've done my research, kaitou-kun."
Sighing, Shinichi withdrew his hand from his coat. "How did you know I was going to target this jewel, though?" he asked, resigned.
The man looked thrilled to have been asked. Irritating as he seemed, Shinichi could grudgingly admit that he was terribly attractive, especially when his face lit up like that. The realization was distracting and maddening and Shinichi adamantly did not notice the pinkness of his mouth as it turned up at the corners.
"Like I said, I did my research," the man chirped, coming to a halt a meter or so away from Shinichi. At this distance, the exact length and volume of his eyelashes became devastatingly clear. "All of your heists were in this general area – nearly or around Tokyo – so it was obvious that you live near here and steal gems that are convenient. You've already stolen – and then returned; you'll have to explain why you do that later – most of the gemstones that are on display around Beika and Ekoda, so I deduced that you would try to steal this jewel, based on its location and the general specifications you follow when selecting targets. You tend to go for larger stones for whatever reason, I've noticed, regardless of worth. Also, you always steal on the full moon."
Against his will, Shinichi found his eyebrows crawling up his forehead. "Impressive." He knew that he shouldn't be so fascinated, because obviously he'd left a lot of clues, but nobody had bothered to pick through them so thoroughly.
"Thank you," the man beamed, than extended one hand. Shinichi watched warily, waiting for him to try to take the Golden Nymph, but he wasn't expecting the man to flick his wrist abruptly and – a pair of handcuffs was suddenly biting into Shinichi's wrists, conjured out of seemingly nowhere. "Now give me the jewel and I'll escort you to the police station."
For a moment, Shinichi didn't say anything. His mind was racing. What were his options? He couldn't take the man in his current state (and he was going to have to work out how the guy had even managed to get the handcuffs on him) and he hadn't brought any of his backup flash bombs, only sleeping gas grenades, which were evidently useless. At this point, the only thing he had left were his glasses, which were useless unless he wanted to do some tracking or magnifying (which he didn't), and his watch, which –
An idea occurred to Shinichi. There was a possibility it would work, a slim, barely-there chance. Normally Shinichi wouldn't even consider it, would brush it aside and discard it entirely because it was kind of embarrassing and really quite awful, but the man was insanely good-looking and Shinichi didn't exactly have options, so why not?
Ducking his head in some semblance of docility, Shinichi took half a step forward. The man's face was impassive when Shinichi met his eyes, but he didn't move, holding himself carefully still. "It's not every day that I'm outsmarted, you know." His voice was pitched low, rumbly and soft.
"I know," the man agreed, tone slightly warning. His expression was blank, lips a stagnant line and eyebrows relaxed, but Shinichi could detect a hint of wary mystification in his eyes. Good. "That's why they called me in."
"Could I get a name?" Shinichi wondered. Another shuffle forward and he was in the man's space, surrounded by the scent of white citrus. He had good taste in cologne, at least.
"Uh," the man began unsteadily, the first sign of discomfort Shinichi had noticed since they'd met. His eyes were alarmingly indigo this close. "I – my name is Kuroba Kaito."
The name rang a bell. "Oh, you're the detective that consults with the police, aren't you?" At Kaito's slow, uneasy nod, Shinichi smiled faintly and slithered even closer, reaching up with one bound hand to tug the mask below his chin and bare the lower half of his face (a risk he was going to have to take, it seemed). He was close enough to watch Kaito's pupils dilate the slightest bit, to notice the way Kaito's throat twitched as he swallowed. "What are you going to do with me now that you've caught me, Kaito?" he breathed warmly across the swell of Kaito's bottom lip, and Kaito inhaled sharply.
"You," he began, and seemed unable to finish.
"Me," Shinichi agreed before he lifted his hands, thumbed open the crosshair lens of his watch, and shot Kaito in the neck with a tranquilizer dart.
Kaito's expression went shocked for a moment as he dropped the gas mask with a clunk – Shinichi felt unaccountably pleased with himself for being able to put that expression on his face – before he smiled. Not the infuriating smirk he'd worn for most of their encounter, but something warm and bright, something closer to the way he'd looked when he'd eagerly recounted how he'd deducted which jewel Shinichi was after. It was startling and – and really quite beautiful, if Shinichi let himself think it.
"You know what, I think I like you. You're a challenge," Kaito slurred as he slumped forward, arms reaching up to wrap loosely around Shinichi. His lips pressed purposefully against the corner of Shinichi's mouth – Shinichi froze, feeling heat fill his cheeks – before he was asleep, head resting on Shinichi's shoulder and arms still locked around him.
Shinichi stood there in the middle of the display room, handcuffed and trapped within in the cage of Kaito's body, and wondered how much more complicated his life was going to become with this – this flamboyant, irritating, gorgeous detective after him in addition to Snake.
The next heist:
"You should start bringing some police officers to these things," the thief remarked as he slid the Cobalt Dream into his pocket.
From behind his gas mask, Kaito shook his head vehemently. "But then I'd have to share you, kaitou-kun!" He was keeping a respectable distance – it wouldn't do if the thief got him with the tranquilizer dart again.
"You're ridiculous," the thief muttered before there was a bright white explosion of light – a flash grenade? That was new. Kaito blinked, trying to get the spots out of his eyes, but not before he felt the thief brushing past him, the ghost of fingertips against his forearm and the faintest scent of jasmine tea left in his wake.
Kaito smiled dopily to the empty room.
And the heist after that:
Shinichi was honestly so done.
"If you're going to try to arrest me, could you at least try to be serious about it?" he demanded, hands on hips as he glared across the exhibit hall at a sunglasses-holding, gas-mask-toting Kaito. "You don't even have any backup. That's why I keep getting away."
"On the contrary, my darling kaitou-kun," Kaito sang. "It's because you keep outsmarting me. Although this time, I won't let you." Instead of sounding menacing, he sounded delighted.
Figuring he had about three seconds before Kaito poofed handcuffs around his wrists again (the handcuffs had nearly an hour to get off the first time) or did something equally frustrating, Shinichi reached up to tap the "deploy" button on the rim of his glasses, then switched the lens feed to infrared.
"What are you –" Kaito began, but then opaque pink smoke began to pour from the air vents, courtesy of the gas canisters Shinichi had rigged. Around a cough, he muttered, "Wow. Okay, kaitou-kun. I'm going to need to step it up."
"You do that." Shinichi skirted around the glowing figure on his glasses, slipping out of the hall just as Kaito asked, "Is the smoke cherry-scented, or is that just me?"
Disconcertingly enough, Shinichi discovered that he was smiling to himself as he walked down the front steps of the museum.
On a list of all the places Kaito expected to meet the (breathtaking) thief again, "walking down a sidewalk in the rain at two in the morning while on the way home from a crime scene" would not have made an appearance. Granted, Kaito, for all his deductive prowess and capacity for logic, had a fairly ridiculous imagination, especially when it came to stunning thieves whom he'd somehow managed to become enamored of, and most of the list would've included things like "rescuing each other from a burning building" and "at a masquerade ball."
But anyway. Walking down a sidewalk, meeting the love of his life.
It was a bitterly cold and generally unpleasant night, in addition to the angry rain that fell in bullets. Kaito shivered, tugging his jacket tighter around himself. If it were up to him, he wouldn't have bothered going out to a crime scene so late at night, but Megure had insisted, so Kaito had capitulated. He'd solved the murder – obviously – but it had been late by the time he had. And now he was walking despondently through the rain like the lead singer from every angsty music video ever.
The sound of footsteps pattering towards him was enough to make Kaito blink bits of rain out of his eyes and peer cautiously forward. There was someone struggling towards him, arms crossed tightly over his abdomen. Kaito smiled wryly, feeling a strange sense of companionship with the person. At least there was some other idiot flailing around in the rain in the dead of night.
That camaraderie faded, though, the closer the person got. Kaito felt something simmer in the pit of his stomach as the dark hair and pale skin and soft red lips came into sharper focus; was it possible that – could it be – it seemed unlikely, the probability probably near zero, but it had to be –
The thief looked up at the exact moment Kaito became sure that it was him. His eyes went attractively wide, highlighting the brilliant azure of his irises, and the lines of his jaw shifted as he clenched his teeth. He came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the sidewalk, rain streaking down his temples. "Kaito," he greeted without intonation.
"So we're on a first-name basis, are we?" Kaito grinned, secretly thrilled, and the thief sighed, rolling his eyes. He was even captivating when he was annoyed, Kaito decided a bit dreamily.
"Well, you do keep trying to arrest me. We've clearly already thrown propriety to the wind," the thief remarked, folding his arms over the front of his sodden cardigan, and Kaito smirked a little. The thief still thought Kaito was trying to arrest him?
"You know, I never got your name, kaitou-kun," he sing-songed as he started towards the streetlight between them. When the thief didn't move, Kaito gave him a Look. After another second of indecision, the thief walked cautiously to the crosswalk.
"I think it'd be better not to tell you my name when you've got friends on the police force," he muttered, pressing the "walk" button despite that the street was deserted.
"I'm not trying to arrest you, kaitou-kun," Kaito informed him, trying to sound as genuine as he felt. The thief just snorted, unimpressed.
When the light remained stubbornly red, Kaito sighed and stepped out onto the street. He was startled when a hand suddenly grabbed his, frigid from the rain but somehow still burning Kaito's palms anyway. Kaito gave a half-turn and found the thief staring at him with sculpted eyebrows furrowed.
"What are you doing?" he demanded, incredulous. "The light's red."
"But it's not as if there are any cars," Kaito replied slowly, bewildered.
The thief made a frustrated noise. "It's the principle of the thing! Even if nobody's around, it's not the right thing to do. You're supposed to wait for the light to change." He pouted a little. It was adorable.
"Okay, okay." Kaito lifted his hands in surrender, though he regretted it when the thief let go of his hand and turned away. One eyebrow arched, he tucked his hands into his pockets as he angled the man another disbelieving look. "You'd think out of the two of us, you wouldn't be the one who's concerned with following traffic rules."
"And you'd think you would be, Mr. Famous Detective," the thief muttered, looking away. The tips of his ears were pink with cold, and his hair was plastered to his cheeks.
Kaito couldn't help but smile. "I guess there's more to each of us than meets the eye."
The thief regarded Kaito for a long time. Just as Kaito felt he would either melt into a puddle or say something sappy and embarrassing under his too-azure gaze, the walk signal blinked on across the street, and Kaito flicked his head in a silent question.
They crossed the street together in silence. The silence continued until all the way down the street and down two more blocks. At the start of the third block, Kaito began humming a Kuraki Mai song under his breath, earning an unreadable look from the thief as they rounded another corner.
Drawing to a stop as the main road branched into several smaller streets, the thief turned to face Kaito. He wasn't smiling, not quite, but his mouth was tilted, as if he was trying to decide whether he should or not. "I've got to go this way."
"Oh." Kaito blinked, lifting a hand to rub rainwater off his eyelids and trying to ignore the twitch of disappointment that itched at the back of his throat. "Well. Bye, kaitou-kun. It was nice seeing you."
Just before he started to turn, the thief hesitated. "I –" He cleared his throat. "I'm Shinichi. Kudou Shinichi." With that, he pivoted and hurried down the street, the sight of his back lost to the rain and gloom within moments.
It was still raining, and it still felt as if the world had turned to an icebox, and Kaito's clothes were sopping wet and his shoes were full of water and he was exhausted and it was two in the morning. But Kaito felt himself warm from the inside out as a smile stole across his face. He felt ridiculous and kind of stupid, but in the best way.
Shinichi regretted a lot of things in his life – the whole thievery thing was one of the most obvious – but he especially regretted giving Kaito his name. His full name. Was he insane? Even if Kaito hadn't acted as if he was planning on getting Shinichi arrested and even if they'd walked through the rain together like the lead couple of every romance movie ever and even if Kaito had looked at him as if Shinichi had hung the stars in the sky rather than shot him in the neck with a tranquilizer dart after two minutes of awkward banter the first time they met, there was any number of things he could do with Shinichi's full name. Any number of bad things.
The fact that Kaito found Shinichi's address, therefore, really shouldn't have been surprising at all. The fact that Shinichi opened his front door at eight in the morning on a Saturday to find Kaito beaming at him – that was sort of surprising. The fact that Kaito was holding a bouquet of roses – that… definitely deserved the blank stare Shinichi gave him.
Blinking, Shinichi tried to open his mouth, but nothing came out except a weak croak.
"Good morning, kaitou-kun," Kaito chirped from behind the roses. He leaned out from behind the impressive, multicolored arrangement to give Shinichi a blinding smile, which Shinichi gaped at. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"
"Uh," Shinichi began, and stopped. He cleared his throat. "Why do you have – roses?" Somewhat against his will, he admitted that the flowers were actually rather pretty; there were a few pearly white ones, a smattering of baby pinks and soft corals, but the majority of the roses were deep, deep red. Something at the base of Shinichi's spine curled up like a cat, snuggling in against his vertebrae and heating him down to the toes. Shinichi forcibly tried to remember that Kaito was a hopeless flirt (obviously – who else would kiss someone they'd only known for a few minutes?) and this was probably normal behavior for him, but the warmth refused to obey him.
"What, you don't want them?" Kaito frowned, and Shinichi immediately felt bad.
"No, of course I do," he hurried to assure Kaito. "I just – why are you giving them to me?"
"Don't you know flower meanings?" Kaito asked, neatly sidestepping the question. Shinichi narrowed his eyes at him (or at least the parts of him that he could see).
"Why are you even here? Shouldn't you have brought some police officers with you?"
Lowering the flowers, Kaito lifted an eyebrow appraisingly at him. "What, you want to meet the task force that the police formed for you? That's sweet, kaitou-kun, but probably a bit unnecessary."
"No," Shinichi snapped, resisting the urge to roll his eyes until he could see his frontal lobes. "I mean, don't you want to arrest me?"
"Why would I want to arrest you?" Kaito laughed, sounding genuinely confused. "You're the first interesting thing to happen to me in a long, long time. I'm going to make sure that you don't get arrested."
Shinichi looked at him askance. "You," he said, "are a terrible detective."
"I mainly deal in homicide. Thieves aren't usually my concern." Kaito shrugged. "And you're a strangely good thief, you know. I heard that the last four gems you stole were found in Nakamori's desk yesterday. Along with an apology letter for every family and museum you stole them from." He lifted his eyebrows pointedly.
"Yes, well." Shinichi ran a hand through his hair, suddenly realizing that he was wearing old pajama bottoms and an oversized t-shirt. "I didn't need them."
"I can see that," Kaito muttered, and Shinichi got the feeling that he was making a comment about the house – which, to be fair, was really more of a mansion than anything. Before Shinichi could snark at him that the house was his mother's, not his, Kaito whined pathetically, "You still haven't invited me in, kaitou-kun."
"Okay, okay," Shinichi muttered, stepping aside to let Kaito and his roses inside. He looked – good, unfortunately, all pink-cheeked and bright-eyed in his sweater and jeans. Shinichi hadn't been aware that someone could look so pretty at eight in the morning.
"Have you got a vase or something for the flowers?" Kaito asked as he somehow managed to get his shoes off and slip on a pair of guest slippers without ever touching his feet. (Shinichi had long since stopped trying to understand how Kaito did a lot of things. The whole magic handcuffs thing, for one.) He bounded down the hall, turning into the kitchen.
"Um, maybe, but I don't know where it is," Shinichi called after him as he hurried towards the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway to find Kaito rummaging around under his sink, roses in one hand. Eyeing the bouquet – it seemed even bigger within the house – he added, "Even if you find it, I don't think it's going to be big enough to fit all the roses."
"What, nobody's ever given you three dozen roses before? I find that hard to believe, considering what you look like," Kaito teased, and Shinichi sighed, though he tugged at the neckline of his shirt. Was it just him, or was the kitchen suddenly several degrees warmer?
"Are you going to tell me why you're here or not?" he asked in lieu of sticking his head in a bucket of ice water.
"I could," Kaito agreed, abandoning his quest to find a vase in favor of setting the roses on the counter. He leaned against the oven, sunlight from the window over the kitchen sink lighting the ends of his hair to bronze. His eyes had gone abruptly serious. "Look, I'm good at figuring people out. It comes with the territory. And you – I don't know why you do the things you do."
"What do you mean?" Shinichi asked evenly, taking care not to let his voice waver.
"I mean that you obviously don't want to be doing what you do," Kaito responded, eyebrows furrowed. "From your mannerisms, I can tell that you respect the law. And you send the people you steal from apology letters and return the jewels. You keep bringing up me turning you in to the police like you secretly want it to happen. It's obvious that you don't want to be a thief. You don't do it because you like it. So the question remains: why are you a thief, then?"
Swallowing, Shinichi looked down at his fingernails. "I…" He blew out a breath. "It's a long story."
"I've got time," Kaito told him, not unkindly. "But don't feel like you have to tell me if it's really –"
"My father was murdered," Shinichi blurted out, squeezing his eyes shut.
"– personal," Kaito finished, blinking wide eyes. "Oh."
Forcing his eyes open, Shinichi smiled wryly. "Have you heard of Kudou Yuusaku, the mystery writer?" When Kaito nodded, comprehension stealing across his face, he sighed heavily. "Then you know that he disappeared a few years ago. Nobody's heard from him since." He bit his bottom lip. "He was in the middle of gathering some more information for his next book, which focused on a mythical jewel called Pandora that could supposedly grant immortal life. But apparently there are some dangerous people who don't think it's mythical, and they wanted to find it. They thought my father would be a threat if he continued investigating or if he published a book that brought Pandora into the spotlight, so they – they killed him." He buried his face in his hands. The memory of his father's death would always make his head hurt and his heart ache, like a splinter that had been left to fester for too long. "So now I'm trying to find Pandora on my own, before they do. I'm going to destroy it, and I'm going to take down that organization."
A silence followed his exclamation. Shinichi finally looked away from the floor to find that Kaito was looking at him with an expression so fragile it belonged in a box of packing peanuts marked this side up. It was the kind of look that, if tangible, would've melted in the sun or decayed at the first hint of light or – or blown away at the slightest breeze. It was that kind of look.
"That's…" Kaito took a deep breath. "That's… I…"
Shinichi braced himself for the apologies. That was what he always got whenever he told someone that his father – yes, Kudou Yuusaku, the mystery author, you've heard of him, oh, you've read his Night Baron series, wonderful – was missing and presumed dead. He got I'm so sorry and I don't know what I'd do if I were you and if you ever need to talk, I'm here for you. And that was all well and good, because that was what one was supposed to say in response to hearing something tragic, but it certainly wasn't what Shinichi needed or cared to hear, because what did someone else's pity do?
But the apologies, the sentiments, the niceties never came. Kaito's eyes went dark for a moment before he smiled hesitantly and said, "Well, I'm definitely not going to arrest you now," and, well. Shinichi could live with that.
"I thought you said you weren't going to arrest me!" Shinichi managed from where he'd been trussed up in (silk – Kaito wasn't a barbarian, after all) rope the moment he'd set foot in the billionaire's private art gallery. He glared daggers as Kaito emerged, whistling, from the shadows.
"I'm not going to arrest you," Kaito agreed. He didn't know how, but Shinichi still cut a rather regal figure bound from head to foot in red rope that clashed sharply with his all-black outfit. "I didn't say I was going to make it easy for you, though." He grinned. "You like it this way, don't you? A challenge thrown in?"
Shinichi muttered under his breath – probably something unsavory – but Kaito knew he was right. He knew he was even more right when he distinctly heard Shinichi say something like, "Good thing I started carrying this," and within the blink of an eye was suddenly free, ropes falling in limp strands around him as he stood imperiously and tucked the small knife he'd evidently been hiding in his shirtsleeve away.
"That rope trap took nearly an hour to set up," Kaito groaned, though he couldn't help but smile dumbly when Shinichi rolled his eyes, snatched the Goddess's Magnificence (the names of the gems were getting more and more ridiculous, he swore), and stalked out of the room. He'd have to come up with something better for next time.
"You are the absolute worst," Shinichi hissed, pawing at Kaito's arm where it was locked around Shinichi's stomach. It was distressingly well-muscled and Shinichi despised it for two reasons – one, it was really distracting to realize just how firm Kaito's arms were, and two, Shinichi couldn't break out of his hold. He hadn't expected that Kaito would just – grab him the minute he tried to take the jewel. Kaito had never gotten so physical before –
And now was not the time to be thinking about Kaito being physical. Especially when he was pressed up against Kaito the way he was, Shinichi told himself sternly before he buried an elbow in Kaito's stomach. Kaito didn't even flinch. He'd probably put on some kind of extra padding, knowing this was going to happen. Shinichi decided he didn't like intelligent people – more specifically, good-looking, annoyingly intelligent detectives – anymore.
"Let me go," he grunted, hooking an arm around Kaito's neck and burying a hand in the scruffy hair at the back of his head in an attempt to unbalance him. It didn't work; in fact, all it did was bring Kaito's stupid, pretty face closer to Shinichi's. The air in Shinichi's lungs took an unplanned vacation to Antarctica, and he stopped struggling.
"Make me," Kaito breathed, eyes sparkling mischievously, and oh, wow, they'd gotten really close to each other in the past few seconds. That was – that was. Shinichi didn't really know what to do, not when Kaito's mouth was right there and pink and he was saying flirty things and just, just – ugh. He was a flirt, right. He didn't mean anything by any of it. Right. Right. The fact that it felt as if there was an army of elves practicing a gymnastics routine at the bottom of Shinichi's stomach was inconsequential, because Kaito was a flirt and this meant nothing to him.
So Shinichi swallowed hard before he smashed his forehead against Kaito's, hard enough that Kaito actually made a sound of pain as he let go of Shinichi in surprise, and Shinichi grabbed the Tanzanite Mermaid and ran, ignoring his throbbing head (and matching heart).
But not before he heard Kaito yell, "I'll see you at your place tomorrow morning!" and felt an embarrassed blush stealing across his cheeks.
(He did see Kaito the next morning – Kaito brought over muffins and lectured Shinichi on the importance of breakfast, and Shinichi pretended he didn't want to kiss him until he shut up about the health benefits of bran and live cultures. Shinichi wasn't sure who he was trying to convince at that point.)
The first time Kaito (accidentally – he hadn't meant for someone to collapse in the middle of the café, honest) took Shinichi to a crime scene, he hadn't known what to expect from him. Shinichi's father had been a mystery writer, right? But what if he was squeamish or something?
As it turned out, Shinichi was not squeamish at all. He sat in one corner of the coffee shop, serenely drinking his disgusting black coffee (Kaito would probably never understand how he drank his coffee completely black; it was like drinking motor oil) and alternating between taking delicate bites of a scone and playing Sudoku on his phone.
Kaito kept half his attention on him even as he knelt by the prone body of the girl who'd collapsed in the middle of ordering her mindboggling coffee order (no-fat soy vanilla latte with four pumps of caramel syrup and three tablespoons of brown sugar and extra mocha-flavored whipped cream). Even as he carefully brushed her hair away from her face to inspect the coloration of her lips, he felt frustration bubbling persistently in the pit of his stomach.
He'd meant for this to be – well, kind of a date, if he was being honest, but he got the feeling that Shinichi didn't realize it. Shinichi didn't seem to realize a lot of things – he hadn't reacted at all to Kaito's rose bouquet (those had been homegrown roses that he'd painstakingly arranged by hand, for the love of all things holy), and while he never failed to blush at Kaito's flirting, he never really – reciprocated with anything other than snark and eye rolling (although it wasn't as if Kaito despised either of those things, at least not when they came from Shinichi). Honestly, the most romantic thing he'd ever done had been the first time they'd met, when he'd gotten all up in Kaito's space, but that had only been to dart Kaito, so it hardly counted for anything.
Needless to say, Kaito was beginning to lose hope, a little.
"Kuroba-kun, we heard there was a murder," a voice called from behind him, jarring Kaito from his thoughts. He peered over his shoulder just in time to see Megure strolling in, eyeing the café speculatively as Takagi started interrogating the other customers and a few scared-looking baristas. Standing, Kaito was about to give Megure the basic outline of what had occurred, but Megure's eyes latched onto Shinichi and refused to let go.
"Is that – is that Kudou-kun? Kudou Shinichi?" he asked, tone strangely hushed. Oblivious, Shinichi took another sip of coffee, still tapping away at his phone.
"Um, yes?" Kaito glanced over at Shinichi, who was now in the middle of taking a bite of his scone. Or trying to – he missed his mouth a few times before he tore his gaze away from his phone long enough to actually get the scone into his mouth. It was frightfully endearing. "He came here with me. Why do you ask?"
"I knew his father," Megure murmured, averting his eyes. "He used to assist us on harder cases, sort of like what you do, Kuroba-kun. Kudou-kun used to be so – so excited about everything. He was always smiling. He admired his father so much. Always used to tag along on cases to watch him work. But after Yuusaku-kun disappeared and people started saying he was dead, well… Kudou-kun sort of…" His mouth listed downwards on one side. "I haven't seen him for a long time." He sighed heavily before he squinted at Kaito. "What's he doing with someone like you?" His tone suggested Kaito was the scum of society, which, rude.
"Inspector Megure," Kaito huffed, mock-scandalized. "Is that any way to refer to a man who's helped you catch millions of murderers?" When Megure's expression remained unmoved, Kaito sighed and deflated a bit. "I – met him a while ago. I – I just wanted to take him out for a day." He winced, knowing exactly how it sounded. Which was technically accurate, because Kaito had wanted to take Shinichi on a date, but still.
"Oh." Megure's face turning all too knowing, and Kaito tried not to look as transparent as he felt. "Well, Kuroba-kun, you'd better take care of him. Kudou-kun's been through too much just to be yanked around by you now." He gave Kaito the kind of closed-mouth, raised-eyebrows look that meant Kaito was an especially horrible brand of human.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded, a bit nettled.
"Kuroba-kun, we all know about your… conquests," Megure reminded Kaito gently, making him heave an exasperated breath because honestly, conquests? "You don't have the most – encouraging track record."
"Yes, well," Kaito snapped, jumping abruptly from vague annoyance to legitimate irritation, "I'll have you know that I'm perfectly serious about Shinichi. I have no intention of – of doing whatever you think I'm going to do. If he let me, I'd treat him right. At the very least, better than I treat myself. To me, Shinichi's not just another conquest, as you so kindly put it." He glared.
Taken aback, Megure had barely opened his mouth before a hand landed on Kaito's shoulder, making him jump. Whirling, Kaito found Shinichi standing there, expression carefully neutral. His hand was a hot weight, his thumb a solid point of mild pressure along Kaito's collarbone. The bottom of Kaito's stomach dropped out. He definitely heard that.
"Um, I didn't mean to interrupt, but. Er." Shinichi cleared his throat, and – Kaito suddenly noticed the way he seemed slightly flushed, the barest hint of pink crawling stealthily out from underneath the wide neck of his sweater. "I… just wanted to let you know that I think this was a cyanide poisoning. From, you know, the victim's coloring and… um." He coughed, then smiled tentatively at Megure. "Hi, Inspector Megure. It's been a while."
"Yes, it's good to see you, Kudou-kun," Megure agreed, reaching out to pat Shinichi on the arm. It was only at that point that Kaito realized Shinichi's hand was still on his shoulder. Something winged and fluttery filled Kaito's stomach.
"I'm just…" Shinichi seemed to be at a loss for words. He glanced quickly at Kaito – their eyes met for half a second – before he backed away, hand slipping away and leaving Kaito oddly chilled. "I'm just going to go back… over… there."
"You don't have to," Kaito found himself saying, sounding a bit pathetic even to himself.
"No, I – we can talk later. I – later," Shinichi stammered before practically fleeing back to the corner.
There was an awkward silence. Megure shuffled, Kaito sighed, and the corpse lay unmoving on the ground.
"If it's any consolation," Megure offered after a moment, "that's the first time I've seen him so animated since… you know."
"Thanks," Kaito replied dryly, still feeling as if he'd swallowed a vacuum cleaner.
He got through the rest of the investigation fairly smoothly – the killer was the barista who'd been serving the victim; apparently he'd had a grudge against her for some mundane reason or another – but all he could think about was Shinichi's quiet presence in the corner. Every time Kaito tried to look over at him, Shinichi was busy doing something, throwing away his coffee cup or unlocking his phone or staring out the window. Kaito felt getting the same sinking feeling every time he saw that. He'd gone and done it now, hadn't he?
By the time the sobbing murderer was being taken away in handcuffs that Kaito had been too distracted to materialize onto him, Kaito's stomach was a mess of Gordian knots. He approached Shinichi hesitatingly, keeping his eyes on the scuffed wood floors instead of looking at Shinichi straight in the face. He was too afraid of what he might see there.
"I know," he began once the tips of Shinichi's shoes – semi-new red sneakers that were already smudged with smears of dirt – had come into view, "I know I'm not – good enough for you. Like you said, I'm not a good detective, not really. Even if I'm technically, you know, the one who's on the 'right side' of the law or whatever, I doubt I really fit your moral standards. And I'm a flirt, like you – you probably overheard, and sometimes I get loud and sometimes I'm kind of a show-off. A lot of people say I'm flamboyant." He took a deep breath. Shinichi's sneakers hadn't moved, and most importantly, he hadn't run screaming from the coffee shop yet, so Kaito considered it a good sign. "But I think you probably heard me saying – saying that I'd try to treat you right, because I'm so, so serious about you. You're – you're the greatest thing that's ever happened to me, because you're different and you're a challenge and I never really know what to expect from you, and if – if you're willing to, I'd like to maybe –"
"I bought a vase," Shinichi interrupted, and it was so surprising and random that Kaito was startled into looking up. Shinichi's expression was unreadable, a conflicting mix of too many already-complicated emotions intertwined in a beautiful mess. Kaito could only stare as Shinichi got carefully to his feet and came to stand in front of him, so close Kaito was drowning in the scent of jasmine and warmth.
When Kaito continued to stare blankly, brain short-circuiting, Shinichi elaborated, "I bought a vase for your roses. I was right – I didn't have one that was big enough. So I went out and I bought one and I cut the stems diagonally so they'd live longer." Something flickered in his eyes, something like firelight behind stained glass. "And I looked up the meaning of the colors, just because of that comment you'd made. But when I saw what they meant, I – I didn't believe it. I'm just a hypocrite who's got a criminal record meters long. Honestly, who am I to preach at you about traffic rules when I'm the one who's wanted for multiple counts of jewel theft? I didn't think there was any way you felt anything but pity for me." He looked at Kaito through the twin fans of his eyelashes. "But it looks like I'm wrong."
There was something loosening in Kaito's chest, something he hadn't been aware was tight before this moment. "Shinichi, you," he began, and then stopped, trying to find the words. "You," he tried again, and found that he couldn't go on.
Shinichi smiled, and it was like looking at a sky full of stars, like looking at an endless sea of diamonds, as he leaned in and whispered, "Me," before he pressed his lips to Kaito's and everything was right in the world.
I'm handing out free toothbrushes to combat the onset of cavities. Yikes.
In other news, I've, uh, posted some more smut (KaiShin again; when will I ever write top!Shinichi) on my AO3 (username: lunadarkside). Yeah. I... have nothing else to say on this subject. You probably already know if that's something you're interested in.
Well, um, hope you enjoyed (if you did, please consider dropping me a review, as they make my day 700000% less horrible) and I'll see you all soon! - Luna