Nights of drunken revelry have their consequences. This is theirs.

or, the morning after & the relationship negotiation.

Kaito wakes, as per his usual these days, with a heavy weight on his chest. For the first time in a long time, however, it's without scarlet-rimmed nightmares. His head throbs; not quite a headache, but a clear sign of overindulgence. He's not quite sure what woke him, but as his mind clears from its sleep-induced haze, he finds a warm body tucked underneath his chin. He freezes, tensing up. Who in the world…?

Kaito prefers to be in full control of his facilities. Alcohol kills fine motor movements and lowers inhibitions, so inebriation is something he actively avoids. But Kaito drank a lot last night. A lot. He's got the hangover to prove it. It's not like him.

Proof of which is he actually brought someone home. Usually he's the one stealing out of bed before the other party can wake up. And he never lets them see him in the dark. Kaito doesn't bring people home, let people into his sanctuary. Not anymore. Not after…well.

And by the way the covers dip down, the way Kaito's hand resting on the curve of his hip nearly touches bare skin—

Kaito lifts the sheet, curious. Yeah, he's naked under there. He swallows, then pulls the sheet up to the man's chest. The only thing that gives him a measure of relief is that Kaito himself is somewhat clothed.

But this man looks familiar, from his messy fringe to his long, dark eyelashes. He touches his hair hesitantly, runs his hand down the sides of his face, tracing the shape of it. He's fey-like and unreal, handsome in a way that leaves Kaito breathless.

Kaito's still waking up, warm and languid and drowsy, and it takes him a moment to realize exactly what's going on.

His heart jumps into this throat as the events of last night hit him in a rush of memory, all at once. He doesn't fling himself from the bed, but it's a very near thing.

It almost feels like he's still dreaming. Kaito is familiar with magic, oh yes, too familiar, but the kind that can make a man change into a little boy and back again is beyond his experience.

Edogawa Conan has always been a study in contradictions. Young, but sharper than any adult he's ever met. He was an impossibility, once, and as he looks down on the man in his arms, Kaito decides he still is. Highly intelligent. A worthy rival. And then, one day, gone, his existence fragile as glass. Kaito had done some cursory looking into public record, including obituaries considering everything the boy got up to, but he hadn't found anything. As heist after heist passed, and the little detective hadn't appeared, he'd let him slip from his mind, nothing more than the occasional passing thought, if that.

And then it was over, and Kaito was left bereft of the purpose he'd had for so long, and then it didn't matter much anymore. Nothing did.

It's been a long time since then. Time enough to drift, to lose touch with everyone, save Jii and Aoko and his mother. And even those connections are tenuous.

Jii's currently in the hospital with pneumonia. They still talk frequently, but it almost hurts, speaking with him. Jii-chan, once ageless, carries a frailty in his form and voice that scares Kaito more than he'd like to admit. Kaito misses Jii fiercely. Spry as Jii still is, he's feeling his age more than ever. He won't be around much longer. The thought makes his heart clench. Time is getting away from all of them, and even at his height, he couldn't steal it back. Kaito's too young to feel so old, to be losing people already. And it will only get worse as time goes on.

His mother flies in sometimes, and he and Aoko talk almost every day, but he doesn't have anyone here. Not really. Acquaintances, people he appreciates, people who appreciate him, but no one who really knows who he is. Not anymore. Ask, and people would say Kuroba Kaito, the world-class magician and performer, a celebrity. A mask so thoroughly worn it has become his face.

Not him at all, not really. Not even close. Heh. He laughs a little, at himself. He's always been a great joke. But this, he thinks, as he touches the man's chin, runs his thumb softly over his lips, is not funny. He wants to lean down and capture those lips, knowing the sweetness behind them, but he refrains. He pulls away after a moment, certain that this falls under unwanted, considering how well they really know one another.

But oh, Kaito wants to know him better. He looks at his hand, the one with the rings, resting against the spread, cupping the man's hip through the covers. A spark of excitement, low in his gut, fills him with butterflies. An ember of anticipation he tries hard to douse because he knows it usually leads to disappointment. It's the kind of feeling that once carried him through heists, the kind he hasn't felt since he stopped.

Not even once.

He buries his face in his little detective's hair, momentarily overwhelmed by the strength of it, grinning. This feels like a beginning, like the start of something new and exciting.

Kaito can't wait.

He stays in bed probably longer than he should, letting the sun hit its zenith, just enjoying the feeling of having someone in his arms, rubbing soft circles on shoulder. He glances over at the police badge, very tempted to read the name held within.

But something about that feels wrong, and Kaito's hand moves up, touching his own lips, remembering the warmth of a fingertip. Like a violation of some unspoken agreement they both share. Kaito will let him decide when to tell him his name. Let him decide everything. And if that's never, then so be it.

Maybe it's a bit mad, but well, Kaito doesn't think he's at all sane anymore. There are some things a person can't go through without changing irrevocably.

The figure in his arms starts to shift, perilously close to waking up. So he forces himself out of bed to avoid the temptation to stay, writes a quick note, pulls a rose from his ample stock and places it just so. It's sappy, probably, and overdone, but Kaito can't bring himself to care.

He dresses in a nice shirt combo unbuttoned over jeans, heads down to the casino bar. It's closed, but Sergei lets him in anyway, like always. Several of the bar's employees wave and talk to him for a moment, and he obliges, but he's looking for one person.

Zara Chandrasekhar is in the back, preparing for her shift with a pinched look on her face, arms elbow deep in water, washing the glasses.

"Hi," Kaito says right behind her, one hand in his pocket.

"Ahh, you idiot!" she says, jumping, splashing water all over herself. She thumps a wet fist into his chest.

He holds up his hands, palms out. "What?"

"Don't 'what' me, you dumb," she throws the rag in the sink. "Running off with hot dude with your tab still open and drunk out of your mind. What were you thinking? I was worried! I shouldn't have let either one of you get that drunk. I don't know what I was thinking!"

"Oh, is that what this is about?" Kaito asks innocently. "But I came to close my tab. And his." With a puff of smoke for flourish (it is all about the show, after all), he pulls out his bank card.

"Yeah yeah, that's what I thought. You weren't thinking, either." Kaito grins, holding the plastic out to her. She waves him off. "You're always good about it, no big deal. I'll get it from you later. What I want to know is was he any good?"

"What?" Kaito asks, taken aback.

"You know, in bed? I'm serious. Dish! You took him home, right?" She stares at him, expectant.

Kaito blushes, scratches at his cheek, looking away. It's not as if the thought hadn't crossed his mind, but he was drunk and, "Ah, well—"

"Let me guess, it's complicated?" she says with a huff.

"Kind of? He was very drunk and very naked. I thought it was pertinent not to mix the two."

"Hot willing guy in your bed." Zara says, shaking her head. "It's easy to tell you have a history. Which I want to know about later, by the way. Would it really have been so bad? He was all over you."

"You ah, don't understand. First, he couldn't consent. Secondly, if he was sober, he absolutely wouldn't want to have anything to do with me—"

His mobile phone rings, startling them both. He doesn't recognize the number, and since not many people have it, it can only be one person.

"It's him?" Zara asks. Kaito nods. "Pick it up, pick it up!" she urges.

Kaito tries to answer it, but in his haste he fumbles the phone, nearly dropping it to the floor as it bounces from hand-to-hand. By the second ring he manages to answer it, Zara saying "Put it on speaker!"

Uh, no. Definitely not. He swats at her as she tries to grab his phone.

He reaches down inside himself, pulling for his "show" voice. He has a hard time finding it, having not expected him to call so soon. Before he can speak, the little detective does.

"Hello?" The voice is tentative, unsure. Nothing like the confident young voice he'd come to know last night.

"Detective, hello," Kaito says, biting his lip, certain the other man can pick up on his nervousness. He is a detective, after all.

"Detective?" Zara says, raising an eyebrow, ignoring her dishes entirely. "Interesting pet name."

'Shut up,' Kaito mouths back. He sticks his tongue out at her just to spite her. "I must confess, I didn't think you call so soon," Kaito says, and he can't hide the warmth in his voice no matter how hard he tries. Zara rolls her eyes.

"Um," the detective says. He sounds a little taken aback, probably because of his tone. "Thank you for taking care of me."

"Oh believe me," Kaito practically purrs. "It was my pleasure." Then he winces. So much for not coming on too strong.

A nervous laugh. "Yeah."

Long awkward silence.

"Do you want to get lunch?" Kaito says, and the words explode out from him in a rush in his hurry to break the silence.

"Yes," is the reply, and it's a bit more strident, a bit more sure. "I'd love to." His tongue lingers on the word love. He's flirting. Flirting is good, right?

"The hotel restaurant isn't bad," Kaito offers, "but there's a diner a little down the road I find more filling, if you like that sort of thing."

"That sounds great," the detective says. It sounds like he really means it.

"Meet you in the lobby?" Kaito says, trying not to sound too eager.

"Yeah."

"Oh, and one more thing: may I ask you for your name?" Kaito asks, crossing his fingers.

"You don't know?" the detective is surprised. Curious.

"Well, I could call you Conan, but you told me yourself you hated him, rather."

"I did?" he says, confused. Because that sounds promising. Kaito frowns. Something is wrong. "I didn't tell you my name?" he sounds wary now, all the warmth gone from earlier.

"To be fair, I didn't ask," Kaito says.

"Huh. So all this time you thought I was…?" he trails off.

"No." He switches language for privacy. He doesn't want questions, even from someone as friendly as Zara. "You told me the truth. It is a blow to one's ego, getting constantly outmaneuvered by a six year old. Finding out you were actually sixteen at the time does take the sting out a bit."

"Right," he says faintly. "Right," he repeats.

"I didn't want to press," Kaito offers.

"Oh." he says. "It's Shinichi."

"Shinichi?" Kaito says. The name sounds vaguely familiar. "No last name?"

"You don't," he begins, then licks his lips and thinks better of it. "Not right now," Shinichi says. "Please?"

"Shinichi, then," Kaito says. "I can do that." And then, "Do you want mine?"

"I didn't get it last night?" Shinichi asks.

Something in Kaito's stomach sours as a dark suspicion grows, dulling his excitement.

"You said there was a certain time and place for it, if you catch my meaning," Kaito says. "Though you did hear it, you made a point not to remember it, hence my question."

"Right." A deep breath. "Are you really—"

Kaito hmms. "I am. Or was, to be more precise." Though he is. That much of him hasn't changed. It's only hidden. The phantom thief is still much a part of him these days; he doesn't think he can ever let it go. But he doesn't plan on returning to active thievery.

He waves to Zara and gives her a thumb up. She shakes her head, saying, "If he was sober, he wouldn't want anything to do with me,' Yeah, right. Go and get 'em."

Kaito gives her a good showing of his middle finger as she rolls her eyes again, ducking out of the bar and back to the lobby as he speaks.

There's another long silence from Shinichi's side.

"Is that a deal breaker?" Kaito says, then he smiles warmly at his favorite concierge, who smiles just as warmly back, and leans against the wall next to the front desk, one hand in his pocket.

Another deep breath. "No, it's not."

Kaito closes his eyes in relief. "Ah, well. I thought it might be, considering. I'd say you weren't capable of rational thought last night, but that's a lie. Rational thought, yes. Boundaries and informed decisions, no." Kaito laughs. "Such a fascinating dichotomy. You're quite the curious creature, Shinichi." He tastes his name like fine wine, letting it linger on his lips.

An audible swallow and a nervous laugh in response. "Where are you?" he hears over the line. Kaito looks up; the elevator door opens and there he stands, still on his phone, looking as perfect in those clothes as Kaito thought he would, scanning the room.

He looks different without his glasses. He's thicker boned and longer limbed. But those eyes are the same, hard and piercing, a perfect match to that sharp mind. Kaito throws up a hand, and Shinichi's eyes zero in on him. He hangs up, slipping the phone into his pocket, and heads his way. His walk is confident, controlled, powerful. Kaito saw shades of this last night, but it was hidden by drunken stumbling.

Kaito pushes off the wall, kicking the toe of his Converse against the ground. "So, considering rescinding your marriage proposal now that you're sober?" he says with a cheeky grin that belies the way he feels, holding out the back of his hand so Shinichi can see the engagement ring and wedding band. I won't hold it against you." He thinks about what he said for a second, then tilts his head. "Not without your permission, anyway." Inside, he's nervous, though he acts glib. He hasn't felt this way in long time; normally he can channel it into his act or let it out some other way, but it's crawling. Things that seem fine in the night can show their flaws in the sunlight, and he wonders what Shinichi sees when he looks at him.

Shinichi's eyes widen minutely. "Haven't figured that out yet," he says. There's a faint blush on his face, and he glances down at his hand with the ring.

Kaito grabs it, links their fingers together, leading them out of the hotel and casino, but not before acknowledging a few people he knows. Shinichi doesn't protest their linked hands, instead giving his hand a gentle squeeze back. Kaito glows. Good sign. "Well, then I'd best be on my best behavior, hadn't I? Kaito says.

That surprises a laugh out of Shinichi. "You? Behave? Is that even in your vocabulary?"

"I'll have you know I'm very good at behaving." Shinichi gives him a look. "When I want to," Kaito acknowledges the need for a qualifier.

"I'll believe it when I see it," he says.

"Then I'll just have to help you see it, won't I?"

They reach the diner quickly, it being only a few blocks away.

It's half-filled with patrons. Without waiting to be seated, Kaito slides into a cherry-red vinyl booth like he owns the place, sprawling out, sitting on it like it's a throne and he's the king. The server comes by and he greets them by name without looking and he orders himself a big breakfast, turkey bacon and potatoes O'Brien and eggs over easy and pancakes and coffee and water with lemon. He's used to heavier breakfasts these days. He needs the energy.

Shinichi stares at him as he finishes his order, looking a little overwhelmed.

"You can get what you want. It's on me," Kaito says, playing with the salt shaker.

"You shouldn't feel you have to," Shinichi says, still with that uncertain expression on his face.

"I don't have to," Kaito says. "I want to."

There's that endearing blush again, but he orders a slice of lemon pie a la mode, with homemade vanilla ice cream, and water.

Kaito tucks his choice away in memory. "'In the fashionable way,' huh?" he says. "Interesting."

"That's what you choose to comment on? Not that I got dessert for brunch?" he taps his fingers on the table.

"Why would I? You're an adult now and completely aware of the consequences of your actions." Kaito smirks. "Besides, consider who you're talking to."

"How could I forget?" Shinichi says, and there's very something like hysteria bubbling inside his voice as he adjusts his napkin and silverware.

Kaito doesn't like it. Doesn't like that he put it there. Though he's been enjoying their conversation so far, perhaps it hasn't been the same for Shinichi. He decides to be direct. "Hey, you, uh," Kaito's voice falters. Shinichi looks up. "You don't—" he licks his lips. Shinichi's eyes flicker down. Kaito clears his throat. "You don't remember anything about last night, do you." It's not a question.

Shinichi tries, thinking hard. "Warmth," he says. "Flickers of conversation."

"Oh," Kaito says again. How could he forget? Very easily, it seems.

Another long awkward silence hangs between them. Kaito hopes this isn't a sign of how they'll interact in the future. He was looking forward to getting to know him properly.

"We didn't do anything, did we?" Shinichi asks, and there's a fierce look on his face. He doesn't know what that means. Kaito could study that face for a thousand years and never get anything more than a superficial meaning out of it.

It's intense, but as Shinichi's cheeks begin to burn, Kaito gets what he's trying to say. "For all that you were undressed and trying to undress me, no, we did not. Though I must say, you're an adept kisser for a drunk."

Shinichi puts his face in his hands and groans.

"You really don't remember anything?" Kaito says again, and it hurts. He doesn't know why he's surprised. He knows better than to get his hopes up. Hope is a foolish, misleading thing, and it always has been.

"No, not really," Shinichi says.

Of course. Lady Luck abandoned Kaito long ago. "Ah, well. That's generally how my life goes, these days."

The server places their drinks in front of them, and Kaito takes a long sip of water to gather his thoughts.

Shinichi is studying him. Kaito wonders what he sees. If he sees the same kinship in him Kaito saw in Shinichi last night, even without the memory.

"I suppose this outing was merely product of your insatiable curiosity then?" Kaito muses out loud. Before Shinichi can answer, he adds, "To think, I revealed myself for no reason, hmmm." Looking back, it was a gross miscalculation.

Shinichi is still studying him in silence. "Will you tell me what happened?" Shinichi asks finally. "I didn't do anything that would…" he trails off.

Of course. A detective's need to know. That explains his presence. "Nothing regrettable, not to me at least." Kaito taps his fingers on the table. "You deserve to know. I am happy to oblige. Let's see here:

"I had two matinées, but no evening show yesterday. It's the closest I get to an off-day. I like going to the hotel bar for a quick pick-me-up after work. I wasn't planning on staying long, but I saw you. I'm friends with the barman, you see, and she pointed you out to me as someone who'd had more than enough."

"Really?" he says, looking distinctly uncomfortable. He must remember that much, then. Kaito doesn't think he's ever seen him so tentative. How a decade changes people.

"Mmhmm. And you looked miserable. You were already drunk, and I was just going to distract you, see if I could get you to cut back a little bit, so I took your drink. I was going to replace it with water," Kaito smiles. He didn't even get that chance. Shinichi's quick in more ways than one.

"I don't get it. Where are you going with this?" He takes a drink. Kaito's gaze lingers as Shinichi's lips wrap around the straw.

"You called me a thief, told me you had a 'Kid-sense' and traded a six hundred thousand yen ring for a six hundred yen drink. I think you thought I was after it. You kept trying to get your drink back."

"I did not," Shinichi says, shifting. "Are you serious?" he says, leaning forward.

"You did. Gave me the ring on one knee," Kaito says with a laugh. "So proud of yourself for figuring it out." It happened just yesterday, but it has already become a fond memory. Granted, he'd been embarrassed at the time, but it had been hilarious in hindsight. "Said stealing your drink was proof I was Kaitou Kid."

"And you believed that I knew then?" He sounds skeptical.

Kaito shoots Shinichi a look. "Of course I didn't! What do you take me for? No, you went on to say some things only the two of us would know."

"Oh."

"That's when I started to think there was truth to what you were saying. I kept plying you for information; you didn't tell me much—you have exceptional skill to slither out of an interrogation, by the way, even while drunk—but it was enough to confirm. And you kept touching me. Wouldn't keep your hands off me, as a matter of fact. I thought you were some kind of police plant at first, to get a confession, but then you told me about Mōri-san's nuptials, and I figured your sorrow was genuine."

Shinichi's really red now, with a disgruntled expression on his face. It's adorable. "But you didn't really accept the 'proposal?' as it were?"

"Oh, I did. That came later when we were both drunk beyond belief. We somehow concluded we were engaged, not married, and you wished to correct that right away. So we bought wedding bands." Kaito looks down at his hand. The blue gems sparkle in the soft afternoon light coming in through the window. "I think we might have actually gone through with it, had I not come to my senses just a bit." He laughs. "Imagine this discussion then!"

"I'm trying not to," Shinichi says, but he's smiling, looking at Kaito with an expression that Kaito can't place. "And you believed me?" Shinichi says, "about Conan, just like that?"

Kaito laughs. "Just like that. It's hardly comparable to the bizarre things I've seen." He deliberately doesn't think of that last heist, of eyes refracting in the dark.

"You're a very singular individual." Another drink.

"So people often tell me."

"Why did you agree?" Shinichi asks, gesturing to the hand with the ring.

"Ah, but that is personal, I'm afraid," Kaito says as their food is set down on the table. He covers his pancakes in syrup.

"Well, we are engaged. Shouldn't I know why?" Shinichi asks, taking a bite of his pie. A bit of the custard clings to his lips, and a slip of pink tongue slides between his lips, licking it up.

Kaito's mouth goes dry. He takes a deep breath, cuts a corner off his pancake and stuffs it in his mouth to give himself time to answer. He half misses in his haste, and a bit of syrup dribbles down the corner of his mouth. He chews and swallows. "Are we really, considering?" he says noncommittally.

He reaches for a napkin, but Shinichi reaches over the table, runs his thumb down the side of his mouth, gathering the syrup slowly. Kaito shivers, then stills, letting him do it.

Then Shinichi sticks his thumb in his mouth, his lips encircling it as he sucks the syrup off it, finishing with a wet sound, and oh, that's not fair. He looks up at Kaito through half-lidded eyes. "Yes," he says, his voice low and rough.

His actions send a sharp pulse of arousal through Kaito, and he lets out a soft noise. "That's dirty pool!" Kaito complains, but his heart is racing. He tears his gaze away. He would know, though billiards has never been a strength, for all he finds the physics calculations involved abominably easy after half a decade of Kid.

Maybe Shinichi will be honest with him, should he ask. Kaito is willing to give him a chance. If a drunken Shinichi can understand, maybe a sober one can, too. "Take a look at me and tell me honestly: what do you see?"

Keen eyes turn on him, searching. Kaito feels naked and pinned under that much focus, and the small spark of arousal grows, turning molten. He shifts in his seat.

"Just a man," Shinichi says after a long time.

"Come on, Detective. I know you've deduced more than that."

"A tired one, what with the bags under your eyes. Very well off; that's an expensive watch, and you wear designer clothes, but I don't really need that to tell me, not when I've seen your living space. It's an executive suite, and well-lived in, which means you have a high paying, high profile job, enough so the room is near permanent. Even if I didn't know you were a magician, your room would have told me, what with the doves and other magician-related paraphernalia; you also have a Merlin Award knocked over on the floor and half-buried under a pile of discarded tricks in an otherwise organised room, if a little cluttered. That's very telling." Another bite. Kaito watches the lines of his throat as he chews, then swallows, and very nearly lets out a whimper.

"Is it?" Kaito didn't realize he'd seen the Merlin. He doesn't want to think about the Merlin

"It is." Shinichi nods. "One, even though the Merlin not as regulated as other performance awards, the standards are subjective and not rigorous, it's still prestigious in the community. But you don't care. It's just a paperweight to you. Less than that; you don't even want to see it, burying it under worn out props. Given the casino's propensity for magical acts, coupled with the award, I dare say you're their headline act." That he states with certainty. "Famous. That's corroborated by the way even people you don't acknowledge watch you."

"Hmm." It's true enough.

"But it seems you know everyone; you greet them all by name, from the concierge to the server, and you're exceptionally friendly, but there's a polite distance. And it's not the fact that you're a celebrity, though I am sure that plays a part of it. Something is missing."

"Oh?" Kaito asks.

"If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say it was connection. You don't feel like they see you, the real you, if there even is a real you. You don't know. Not anymore. Extrapolating from that, I'd say you're probably intrigued by finding a piece of your past in an unexpected place. And you miss parts of your old life, what used to be. Enough so that you're willing to take a chance on someone with uncertain motives to regain that connection. Because they know the important things that might put a barrier between anyone new."

There's more to it, but that's impressive. Kaito whistles. "Are you sure you don't remember?" Kaito says. Then he thinks about it. It really is a guess. There's no way he could have deduced that. It's a series of leading statements, a common trick used by magicians, mediums, and mavericks alike. Inductive reasoning instead of deductive reasoning, multiple postulates leading to one specific conclusion. "No, wait. Is that how you really feel?"

Shinichi looks away, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Ha! It is!" Kaito crows.

"You don't have to be so happy about it," he complains.

"What more do you want me to say, Shinichi?" Kaito says, attempting to soothe his wounded pride. "You are right. Oh, the typical tale, I suppose. It's quite pretty in the narrative sense, and very neatly wrapped; the rising star, on top of the world, has everything they ever wanted; money, power, people to warm their bed," he lets his heated look linger on Shinichi, the blush comes back, "but they are jaded, gilded, untouchable until their eventual fall. And make no mistake; my time will come. The very definition of tragedy: to have all this and still want. It's felled stronger people than I.

"Tell me, Detective: what happens to dreams when they die?"

"You find new ones," Shinichi says.

Kaito shakes his head. "It's not that simple. Not for everyone. Where do dead dreams go?"

"Nowhere, because they're metaphysical concepts. They aren't born, and so they can't die."

Kaito gives him a flat look. "Spoilsport. Whether by completing them or letting them go, what happens?"

"You move on," Shinichi says.

"But isn't there always that little part of you that still yearns? For something more, better than what you have now? For those little wishes you've held close to your heart?"

"We always want what we can never have," Shinichi says, avoiding the question. It's rather personal, and Kaito already knows. He hasn't forgotten just why Shinichi was drinking. That was his point, rather.

"Exactly," Kaito agrees. "A dream is just another word for hope. What happens when that hope is gone?"

Shinichi is silent for a long time, nothing but the sound of the diner and the clacking and scrape of forks on plates.

So Kaito continues. "Hope is a very curious thing. Perhaps it is a conceit to frame it this way, but life is a river, and hope is the flow; take that away, dam the hope, and what does the river become?"

"Stagnant. Bogged down. Filthy," Shinichi says.

"Precisely. So say something breaks that down, a random encounter with an old rival, perhaps. What happens?"

"Hope begins to flow again, and life becomes clear. At least in this metaphor," Shinichi says. Then he grins. "A simple 'I was lonely' would have sufficed."

Kaito huffs. "Sometimes it's about the journey, not the destination. Hope means something very special to me, you see." Oh yes, something dear indeed, for all he doesn't like to think about that, either.

"Enough to hedge your bets?"

"Oh no, this is Las Vegas: it's double or nothing. If you're going to take a risky gamble, you might as well do it properly and leave it all to lady luck. Maybe you'll hit the jackpot, maybe you'll go home empty-handed. Either way, it makes for a fantastic game."

"It's not luck. It's probability."

Kaito waves his hands dismissively. "Details."

"Have you ever done anything without calculating risk-return?" Shinichi asks, giving him a skeptical look.

Kaito laughs. "I always make it up as I go."

Shinichi stares at him.

"What? It's true!"

"That… actually explains a lot," Shinichi says, contemplative. Kaito gives him his most charming grin.

"So why didn't you just leave when you awoke?" Kaito asks, turning the difficult questions on him. "Not remembering anything must have been disconcerting. Was it just a detective's curiosity?"

Now it's Shinichi's turn to look uncomfortable. "Not quite."

"Did you want me to return this?" Kaito says, sounding more glib than he feels, slipping the engagement ring off.

"No!" Shinichi says. Then a look of disbelief, as if he can't believe his denial is so vehement.

Kaito is a little taken aback, but oddly touched "All right, all right." He moves to slip the ring back on, but before he can, Shinichi is there, his grip just as firm as last night. Shinichi slides the ring on gently, though, and his touch lingers, burning like a brand.

"Let's get married," Shinichi says abruptly, out of nowhere. "I'll move here."

"What?" Kaito blinks. He doesn't remember anything about last night. So why…? "I can't have recommended myself to you."

Shinichi smiles, enigmatic. "Maybe it's my turn to make it up as I go along."

Kaito is uncertain. "Your detective work? You have a career in Japan." And homicide investigation is not exactly theft, so surely it can't be a choice between Kaito or his career. It's such a long way, and for all their shared past, they don't know each other. Not really. Not yet.

"It pays the bills," Shinichi says noncommittally. There's a whole world of things unsaid in that sentence. Kaito wonders if it is because the cases he solves have become stale, like Kaito's joy of magic has become stale.

No. He can't picture a world where that's the reason. He's been on enough of his cases to know Shinichi genuinely cares. So why…oh right. The reason Shinichi was even drinking in the first place. Kaito bets it has something to do with Mōri-san. "Your feelings as it were?"

To Shinichi's credit, he doesn't try to blow him off, or make excuses. "Marriages are built on less," he says. "In the end, isn't it just a partnership?"

"True enough," Kaito says. Then he follows Shinichi's example and simply asks, "Why?"

Shinichi hesitates. "You didn't have to be so open with me. It's a lot of trust. Too much. I could have turned you in."

"But you didn't," Kaito says.

"But I didn't," Shinichi agrees.

"You still could," Kaito says. And at this point, he'd probably go with him willingly. Kaito's done at this point, done with everything. If not for the aspersions it would cast on the former Inspector and his daughter, he might have already done it himself anyway. He's just done. Maybe tired is a better word.

A shadow falls over Shinichi's face. He puts his hands together, leaning forward over the table, hands against his mouth and nose. He lets out a deep sigh, then lets his hands fall. "I could."

Their eyes meet. "But there's no logical reason to."

"No?" Kaito tilts his head.

Shinichi looks away. "You're harmless."

"Harmless, huh? I feel like I should be offended," Kaito says.

"Mostly harmless," Shinichi amends.

"Well, I certainly feel better now that you've clarified," Kaito says, amused.

"You had no idea who I was when you tried to help me yesterday. You didn't want anything in return. You just wanted to help."

"I could be lying."

"You're not."

"You sound so sure."

"I am."

"Well," Kaito says. "Well. You certainly don't lack for confidence, but then I knew that already."

Shinichi twists his lips. "It's not the first time you've helped without wanting anything in return, either. When's your next show? You said you had a late one today, right?"

"My next show?" Kaito asks, a little thrown by the subject change. "It's at seven."

"Perfect. It just hit one thirty. Plenty of time," Shinichi says.

"Wait. You want to get married right now?" Kaito asks, catching his train of thought.

"Mhmm," Shinichi says. He takes another bite of his pie, chewing slowly, pensive expression on his face. "As for my work, I can resign and set up here."

Kaito stares. He's actually serious. "Shinichi. Are you sure you'll be happy that way?" It's an awfully big sacrifice. And a long way from home.

Shinichi ignores his question. "I'll have to go back for a while to settle some things, but it shouldn't take long."

"I could always change venues," Kaito says. It's not like it would be a hardship, moving back to Tokyo, though it would pay much less. The company he worked with let him know there would always be a place for him.

But Shinichi shakes his head. "I have a great many friends and contacts with American law enforcement, particularly in the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and while I don't like the way certain things are being handled at the moment, they'd be happy to ease the way, at least. I had dual citizenship until I turned twenty-two; that should ease the way for a visa or permanent resident card, even in this climate."

"But what about your life there?"

"What life?" Shinichi says automatically, and the words are bitter. His eyes widen as if he's surprised he just said so much. He grabs his drink, stirs the contents with his straw. Then he inhales and continues. "I have a great many friends. It's not that I have nothing to leave behind; I do, but at the same time, there's nothing keeping me there, either. Crime is down by a wide margin. There are people to fill in the gaps should I go. Leaving is not exactly a hardship," his knuckles are white as he grips the glass.

"Shinichi," Kaito says, unsure of what to say, but knowing he has to say something. "Shinichi."

"There's nothing for me there but bad memories," Shinichi says. "Reminders of things I can never have. Everywhere I go."

And Kaito knows that all too well.

He reaches across the table and takes his hand, squeezing it gently before letting it fall. "We'll build new ones," Kaito promises. "Let's do it."

"You don't even know me," Shinichi says, almost as if he hadn't expected Kaito to agree. Shows what he knows. A gentleman always keeps his word.

"I know enough," Kaito says. "I know who you were, and I like what I see now. Is that really so hard to believe?"

Shinichi gives him a measured look. "Neither one of us is particularly well-adjusted, are we," Shinichi says. It's not a question.

Kaito laughs. "Not as such, no. Is that really so bad?"

"Not as such, no," Shinichi says. A moment's pause, and then they both laugh.

"I just want you to be happy," Kaito says. And it's true. He sees shades of that free little boy in this world-weary man, but it's overwhelmed by what could be his own thoughts and feelings, the reason he hasn't been back to Tokyo since everything ended, the reason he worked himself from the bottom up here. Escaping certain memories. Shinichi is his reflection, a human mirror of his emotions. Having him around won't change the dissatisfactions of his life, but he might make them easier to bear.

And maybe they can work together for a better future.

"Even after everything, you're still full of surprises," Shinichi says.

Kaito pulls out his most charming grin. "I live to keep my audience on their toes."

"I want to kiss you," Shinichi says suddenly.

His heart jumps. A loud clatter of dishes makes them both look up. Oh. Kaito had forgotten they were in the diner, but they're finished here, more or less, plates empty.

And Kaito wants to kiss him back, but this is hardly the place.

He pays, tips fifty percent in cash to his favorite server, and they make their way back into the street.

Vegas in the day is less liminal, Kaito thinks, more real compared to the illusion it guards in the night. The Vegas night doesn't always keep its promises. He's seen many people cast out during the day as broken things, seen people lose everything to obsession. As he looks over at the man next to him, he thinks about the ephemeral qualities of his own desires, how easy his rise to fame had been in a world that no longer desired the old-fashioned. Then again, perhaps traditional magic without all the black leather had been out of fashion long enough for him to become sort of a novelty.

Or perhaps it had been hope. He suppresses a shiver.

They've barely left the diner before Shinichi pushes Kaito against the wall in the lee of the building, lips capturing his. It's just as heated, just as burning as last night, except now Kaito is beyond certain that this is exactly what Shinichi wants. So he gives in.

It's immolation; purification by fire, and Kaito burns gladly, surrounded by his heat, his scent, his taste. His lips are soft, pliant, and his kisses are promises of something more, the way he takes his tongue into his mouth, the way his hands fist in his shirt, the way the tart taste of his sweet dessert lingers on Kaito's tongue.

"Oh?" he says breathless when Shinichi pulls away, stunned at his own passion. Kaito's assessment from before that he is a decent kisser is not wrong.

"I could grow used to that," Shinichi says.

"Grow used to melting kisses? This I doubt," Kaito says.

Shinichi laughs. "You're right. I don't want to."

By the time they reach the casino again, Kaito's favorite valet already has his car ready and waiting, having seen him leave. Kaito's lived here long enough they don't bother with the ticket system anymore. He's younger than Kaito with an interest in classic cars and music. He tosses Kaito the keys; Kaito hands him twenty, claps him on the shoulder, asks him about his latest song. He goes on about his interests, enthusiastic, and Kaito listens.

When he turns back to Shinichi, it's to find him watching him, hands in his pockets, that same inscrutable expression on his face.

They get into Kaito's 1975 Corvette Stingray T-Top, cobalt blue. Shinichi is adorably judgemental about his choice in cars. "American, really?" Kaito pays him no mind; he likes what he likes. The drive isn't that far, six or so miles, and eventually the conversation moves to other things.

"You know that ring was Ran's, right?" Shinichi says.

"I had surmised, yes. Sized for her, I presume."

"Yes. I can't believe it fits you."

He knows what others have said of his hands, and even the thought makes him laugh. They are exactly the way they need to be, nimble and lean and quick and dexterous and pleasing to his eyes. "Sentimental of you to carry it around still," Kaito says.

"It doesn't bother you?" Shinichi asks. "That it was hers?"

"No. Does it bother you, Detective?" Kaito asks.

"Not at all," and there's that disbelieving tone again. "Shouldn't it?"

"If it doesn't, it doesn't," Kaito says. "You can't help how you feel. You can only control what you do with it." For all that nothing else is, Kaito's emotions are still his own, and for that he is glad.

They enter the office, wait a bit, talk to the clerk, who happens to be one of his fans, show ID, sign the forms, get the license. The clerk expedites the process with a wink and a quiet congratulations; Kaito's seen them at more than one show. He signs an autograph for them.

Shinichi looks between the two, considering, the same way he did for the server and the valet. Then he nods to himself, like he's come to a decision.

They're really going through with it. There's still a chance to back out, but this feels good. It feels right. They do talk a little about whether it would be better to marry at the office or at one of the various venues, and decide to have some sort of outside ceremony instead.

That's when Shinichi finally catches his name on the paperwork in rōmaji as he hands it in. Kaito doesn't bother to catch his. He will get it in time. "Kaito? Surely you can't be—"

"The son of Kuroba Tōichi? Yes, he was my father," Kaito says, having expected that reaction to some extent.

"He was, wasn't he? A famous magician, too," Shinichi says. "That's not what I meant. Do you have a friend named Nakamori Aoko?"

"Yes," Kaito says with a frown.

Shinichi can't hold it in anymore and starts laughing, loud and long and full, just like he did when Kaito was asking nonsensical leading questions last night.

"Shinichi?"

"You have to be the one that Inspector Nakamori talks about," he manages to get out. "Her magician friend? The popular one in America." He waves his hand. "Kaito this and Kaito-chan that. Small world."

Kaito twists his lip. "That sounds like her. Probably coupled with the most embarrassing tales, too," he can't hide his fondness. "Kaito-chan? Really?"

"I never put two and two together. I just didn't think," he says. "She talks about you a lot." He bites his lip, holds it in for a moment, snorting, and then laughter bursts out of him.

It's wonderful to see him laugh like this, especially since Kaito's mind can't help but linger on the despondent, broken expression. But then the other part of what he says registers.

"Inspector?" he asks. "Not Assistant Inspector? She's a proper inspector now?" Awfully young for that much responsibility; the promotion is at least five years too early. Suspiciously early. Not that he doesn't think she can't handle it, he knows she can, he's just curious as to why.

Shinichi stops mid-laugh. "Yeah, she is."

"Since when?"

"About a month, maybe?" Shinichi asks.

They talk almost every day, but Aoko hasn't said anything about it at all. Always hello, how are you, how are things. Empty things in retrospect. She doesn't talk much about work. Kaito doesn't blame her, not with the history they have, but this information is harmless. And he wouldn't use it against her. Even if he did decide to return, he wouldn't make more trouble for her. That's one of the reasons he's stayed away, so she won't be forced to choose.

He's a far cry from who he was at seventeen.

And she knows who he is and she's kept it to herself. He can't automatically leap to a conclusion. She might have thought it was kinder this way, not telling him.

It's not. It's worse. So much worse.

But they talk almost every day. She cares enough to call him and to return his calls. And it's not like he has any say in her life. She has no reason or need to tell him, no need to justify it. It just hurts. Makes him wonder what else she might not have said.

"Hey." A hand on his shoulder. "You didn't know?"

"No, I didn't."

The touch turns into a hug as warm arms wrap around Kaito. Shinichi kisses him again, and it doesn't fix the problem, but it does make him feel better, just a little. Kaito presses him against the side of the car, his arms falling to his waist. Then Kaito pulls away and rests his forehead against Shinichi's.

"What a pair we make, huh?" Shinichi says.

"Two fools in every deck," Kaito says.

"Wild cards. We can be whatever we want," Shinichi says.

That's certainly true enough, though Kaito has never thought of it that way.

They slide into Kaito's car. "Do you want to be casual? Or should we stop by your hotel for another change of clothes?"

"I don't want to go back to my hotel, not just yet," Shinichi says. "I'm not ready."

"Will you ever be?" Kaito asks.

"It doesn't matter if I am or not. Some things have to be done."

"Admirable."

"Sometimes. I want to be able to smile and mean it when I see her again."

"That's a tall order."

Shinichi lets out a sigh, looking out the window. "It is, isn't it?" He taps around mindlessly on his phone. "May I ask a question?"

"Go ahead." He refrains from pointing out he just did.

"Does Inspector Nakamori know?"

"Right, you forgot that, too. She does." Kaito taps his fingers on the steering wheel.

"I'm surprised you told me, just like that."

"This relationship won't mean anything without communication and trust," Kaito says. That, and he's just tired. Of lies, and not trusting anyone, and keeping it all inside. "You already have enough on me to ruin me thrice over. And you told me you wouldn't turn me in. But if you do, leave her out of it. Please."

"Let the chips fall where they may?"

"More like the die is cast."

"You're comparing it to crossing the Rubicon?"

"Isn't it just as bold?"

"Maybe. Unexpected might be a better word. I still don't understand."

"What's there to understand?"

"You're taking this so easily. I don't—" Shinichi trails off.

"You promised to stay," Kaito says finally, measuring his words. "And even though you didn't remember it, you're still here keeping your promise. Talking about leaving Tokyo even. Why would you leave for me? Why are you serious? Why are we even doing this? We hardly know each other."

Shinichi hmms. "Speaking of promises, you mentioned a promise kept in the card you gave me."

"You asked me to marry you," Kaito says. "You wanted to do it last night and I said no, not yet." He has to keep his eyes on traffic, but he wishes he could see Shinichi's reaction. "I said I would if you remembered when you were sober and asked me again."

"So when I called, you thought I was answering you in the positive."

"Yes. I got my hopes up. I should have known. Hope is a lie. It's always empty in the end. Always."

He looks over to see Shinichi frowning. "That seems like it has a story behind it."

"It does."

He doesn't elaborate, and Shinichi doesn't ask.

Kaito drives on.