You'd always wondered what it would be like to get shot. In a hypothetical way, at least. How it would feel to find yourself slumped up against a wall, surrounded by blood, and having to tear strips from your shirt to bind the wound. And how it would feel to drag yourself through the corridors, loosing hope with every second. You'd feel alone, hopeless, but somehow you'd manage to stop the villain just in time. And then it would all work out. The villain would be arrested, the crowd would cheer and you'd be able to claim a kiss from your attractive sidekick.

As it turned out, being shot in real life hurt. It hurt like hell, like somebody had driven a red hot poker through your arm. And, for some reason, you found yourself running away. You really shouldn't have been running away. You were a cop, for heaven's sake; this was your job! Besides, villains almost never stuck with one shot. The rest of your team, Alfred and Arthur, but more importantly Yao, could be at risk. And let's be honest, there was no way for you to tell if this was the end of an action film or the beginning of a horror one.

You had to go back, to save your squad. Everyone would say things like 'Oh, [Name], we had almost lost hope' and then you'd shrug it off with the classic 'It's my job' line. And then you'd persuade the murderous fuck of the week to drop his gun and come out with his hands behind the back of his head, being showered with admiring glances from your colleagues. Then, when it was all over, you'd slide into the police car, like the smooth, exceptionally attractive man you were, and drive off into the sunset. Even though it was night now. Yes, your awesomeness would be enough to change the laws of the universe.

You almost laughed out loud, but given the situation you were in, decided against it. While it was true that your job was to deal with criminals, you were damn new to the job. Your experience was nothing compared to that of Arthur, who seemed to have spent so many years as a copper, you wouldn't be surprised if he had literally written the book, no matter how many centuries ago that was. You winced slightly, trying to ignore the burning pain on your left side that was constantly reminding you this was real life.

But, for some reason, you decided to head towards the bank where mad, hungry dude was. In hindsight, that probably wasn't the best idea you'd ever had. But you'd already kinda guessed he was harmless; the hostages had already been negotiated out, his weapons confiscated, which had seemed to consist of rifles and handguns stolen from his grandmother's attic. Yet, for some reason, the guy was still demanding his million dollars, despite the fact he must have known the police had him utterly surrounded. Still, you couldn't expect somebody like this to adhere to logic. Not that you could judge; when you were young you had spent time in the same kind of... 'circles' as this guy. Call it your misspent youth.

You honestly didn't know why you were so concerned; Yao could take care of himself. He might look a little on the thin side, some would even say girly, but you'd seen what he could do out in the field. Let's just say, you would not want to be on the receiving end of his wrath. But there was something just a little odd about what was going on.

You saw it a moment before anyone else, just a split second. But it was just enough. Just enough to spot that Mr Deranged-and-hungry was reaching into his duffle bag for something. And you knew exactly what it was. Yao might have yelled at you to get back, but honestly you couldn't remember. All you could recall later was the rushing in your ears and the panicked pumping of your heart. But, quite honestly, that didn't matter. All that did matter was that you leapt up from your cover and ran to take the criminal down.

Your head absolutely killed when you woke up. By now, you'd accepted that you'd pretty much lost the whole Hollywood plot. You made a quick mental note to yourself; dying in the middle of a task really ruins the hero thing.

"Aiyah! Don't you ever do that again [Name]."

You shuddered, trying to figure out what parts of your body were still functioning. Your entire side felt absolutely freezing- who was it who ever said blood was warm? You tried to pull yourself up, only falling back down on the concrete floor again. Man, did that hurt. You forced yourself to smile, not wanting to show how much pain you were in.

"Hi Yao. I-it's nothing, really..."

Yao didn't let you finish.

"You could have been killed, aru!"

You snapped back, not wanting to continue the conversation. Even if Yao's face looked absolutely precious with that expression, a mixture of concern, anger and embarrassment.

"Why do you care so much? I'm just another member of your squad."

Man, Yao did not seem happy with your comment. It was like a shadow had passed across his face, like this had just become serious business. You gulped; maybe you'd gone a little far, pushed it a little too far. But before you could apologise, Yao spoke again.

"The rest of the squad aren't the ones jumping in front of armed criminals! Sometimes risks are good, but there is such a thing as a calculated risk, aru."

Now it was your turn to snap back. "Everything's calculated with you! Have you ever let passion take control, just onc-"

"Passion? How's this for blind passion, aru?"

And that was when Yao knelt down and kissed you.

You backed away surprised, opening your mouth just enough to let Yao slip his tongue in. Normally you would have shoved him off, but you honestly couldn't move a single muscle in your legs. He must have known that, sneaky bastard. You knew that it probably wasn't a good idea, being caught kissing another officer in the middle of a crime scene. Never mind the fact you were both men. But, for some reason, you couldn't help kissing back, moaning into his mouth, letting him explore every part of your mouth. You had no idea why, but you found yourself quite enjoying it, letting a groan escape as Yao started pulled away. You must have sounded something amazing because Yao seemed to change his mind, sliding back in. Your mind was only focused on him, or at least it was until a certain British voice cut through the air.

"Get a room you two!"