(A/N: I am apparently very talentless in both naming things and writing summaries, but yes, this is basically an AU with Police!Aomine and Host!Kise and this is supposed to be light-hearted and more slice-of-life than a thriller. It is still a cop drama though. There is a little bit of angst because world without angst is impossible. Also there are suggestive elements but sexual content is only implied. I have been extremely self-concious on writing another multi-chapter aokise, but I actually planned out the whole plot for this in advance so I am hopeful. Updates might be a little sporadic though.)

.

.

.

.

.

The sublime liquid invades his mouth with a distinct burn but soon the seductive smoky flavour conquers any and all taste buds he has. He can feel the soothing effect of alcohol, yet his inner turmoil is unyielding, untameable, defiant.

"Just... stay away and take care for now."

Momoi's gaze had been affectionate and understanding when she said that, concerned rather than angry, and he was aware of all this but nothing changed the fact that he had fucked up.

Fucked up big time.

The anger boiled in his veins and he realised just how much he hated it all.

Haizaki was a known criminal, the scumbag drug dealer whose men sold the deadly poison to any and all from middle school students to civil servants. His boss Hanamiya was the infamous number one drug lord and weapons smuggler in the city, an authentic yakuza, a recently crowned genius third generation heir. From street urchins to high ranking officials, all in the city knew both men and their vicious dealings, yet knowing was not enough and it was in days like this, when Aomine had to sacrifice either a friend or a case, he most intimately realised the flaws of the system.

There were days he felt bored due to the banality of it all and his own flawless prowess in the profession and then there were days like this when he would be utterly and nonsensically defeated not out of his own lack of might but per the requisites of the law and order. He would realise that the system itself was designed to defeat the ones who cared and reward the vilest of the vile, as long as they were affluent.

He hated it.

He hated it all. The idea of hunting down Haizaki was extremely alluring to him but luckily he had not lost his rationality to that degree yet, nor his belief in the dexterity of the Deputy Prosecutor-General Akashi Seijuurou. They had taken down Imayoshi after all, the infamous yakuza head, just a year ago. Hanamiya should have been a breeze, Haizaki was only a fly...

He could not calm the fury inside and the murderous gaze that spilled from his eyes despite the inquisitive looks he received from other patrons and various hosts and hostesses. Some women eyed him hungrily – they must have been looking for trouble, for he was in no mood for a fuck or even just some small talk and random flirtation.

"You'll get wrinkles if you scowl that hard, you know."

The voice was high pitched and melodious but evidently male, he was able to detect its owner in his peripheral vision, not that the said owner was anyone who could be overlooked: wearing ritzy clothing, around the same height as Aomine, seemed to be beaming even in the dimly lit bar. A host.

A fucking host.

"Oh, so you will just ignore me like that? Not that I am easy to ignore, all tall and handsome."

"I am not interested."

"Really? Here I thought you definitely swung this way."

Aomine sighed and signed the barkeep for a refill.

"No-answer counts as a positive answer, you know?"

"I am not going to buy any more alcohol than I am planning to buy because you are chatting me up. So, fuck off, host-san."

"Ouch. But hey, what makes you think that I'm trying to get you to buy more? Perhaps I am interested in offering something else? Mm?"

A tender touch of fingertips over his free hand on the bar counter, the contact of skin was very small and thus dearly thrilling, but Aomine was already so fed up that he had no patience to play around; he moved his other hand to his inner pocket and took out his badge, laid it on the counter top between them and turned to the particularly stunning pest,

"Now that is interesting. Because I did not think this was a bar that provided such services."

The blond peeked at the police badge then at Aomine, then at the badge again, his eyes had grown larger in surprise and the officer was hoping that he would be left alone to his brooding and self-blaming; the whole move had been to scare the intruder than to actually uphold justice, for in any case he never had any particular problem with prostitution. There was a reason why he was not part of the Vice Unit after all. However, instead of the desired effect, the unexpected happened and the annoying host started giggling as if he had just heard a hilarious joke. Aomine rose an eyebrow in suspicion and surprise.

"But you see," the host picked up the badge and turned around to see Aomine's ID info, "Officer Aomine...cchi – Aominecchi, you were right in your initial assumption, this bar is not that kind of a bar, nor do I sell sex. I am indeed only a host."

Aomine harshly took back his badge from the offering hand, his eyebrows pinched and scowl deepened; he honestly did not want to or care about what this man was up to, as long as he was left alone to despair.

"What the fuck do you want then?"

"How crude."

Aomine sighed and took a long sip from his drink,

"Again, I am not going to order more drinks because you are chatting me up. Just scram."

"How about I buy you a drink?"

"Isn't it supposed to work other way around?"

"Normally, yes. But I already clocked out."

"Why are you chatting me up then?"

"Indeed... Why? Could it be because you are quite my type?"

Aomine turned to the blond with an almost astonished face ('almost', because he was struck unready, but it wasn't as if this was the first time he was hit on by a man), the blond snickered in response and signalled the barkeep, who brought a colourful cocktail to him.

"Are you hitting on me?"

"Yes."

"You realise that I am a cop?"

"I didn't know that. But hey, is it supposed to be a turn off? It kind of got me even more excited to be honest... Perhaps I have a newfound fetish."

Aomine blinked as the blond took a few careful sips from his drink, his face never breaking a smile, his gaze mesmerising – he was indeed gorgeous, that was obvious. Not that Aomine minded men either, he had higher standards for male partners (for female partners, as long as they packed a nice rack he was fine), still this man surely met his criteria. The issue was that he truly was not in the mood for a one night stand.

The blond was adamant though,

"You're not going to reject?"

"What makes you think that I'm even considering the question?"

"Come on... I am about 84% sure you swung this way. Or both ways. Huh? What was that look? Both ways it is!"

Aomine gave an irritated glare,

"Whichever way I swing, I am surely not swinging your way tonight."

The host giggled, his fingers found their way onto Aomine's hand again, then to his wrist – these were simple, small touches yet they burnt profoundly, playfully igniting a thrill; was this man truly not a professional?

"Why? You seemed to be brooding and in dear need of company."

"It is the opposite."

"Hmm... I don't think so. You see, I am great at observing people's emotions, that's what makes me a good host," the blond softly gripped Aomine's wrist in his hand, his fingers caressing the smooth skin beneath his palm and under his wrist in equally soothing and enticing circular motions, "and I can see that you are lonely... But you appear angry. You are definitely stressed out."

Aomine sighed, sure the host's voice was sultry and his fingers were able to elicit some want in him despite his depressed mood, but this was nowhere near enough to incite him fully. He was about to move his hand away when he felt the grip tighten,

"I find sex to be a very efficient way to relieve stress."

"Well, I don't."

"Really? Or is it that perhaps you are afraid you will be too rough? Ferocious? Forceful? That you'll..." his golden gaze turned back for a second, his free hand slowly moving to some of the booths on the other side of the large interior, pointing loosely to some hostesses accompanying patrons, "break their delicate frames and hurt their emotions?"

For a second, Aomine felt his heartbeat race, there was something about the deliciously descending tone of the mysterious blond's voice; it was like a siren's song, fatally intriguing, ominously lascivious. He still had hope though, he opened his mouth to say something, something harsh, something poisonously raw, but his words faded away inside his mouth as the blond leaned in, his full and glossy lips almost grazing Aomine's ear, the urgent breath on his sensitive skin, the heat of the other's body and the light, dizzyingly floral perfume (was it lavender? Jasmine?),

"But you see... I like it rough."

That was how each and every defence of Aomine Daiki inauspiciously fell that night.