Shinichi had always prided himself on being able to make logical, rational decisions even under pressure. His handlers often commented on that – his ability to keep emotions and missions separate, the ease with which he made calculations and acted. It was his trademark.
Well. It had been until Ran had sent him out to recruit Phantom Thief 1412.
To be honest, Shinichi hadn't expected much when he'd first read through the file on the thief. He'd skimmed things like death of father (magician, Kuroba Toichi) and troubled youth and raised by single mother and failed career as magician and crime as possible coping method (?) underneath the section regarding personal life. He'd stared at unconfirmed underneath mental wellness. From what he'd seen of the thief, on news reports and the snippets of surveillance video Night Baron had captured at the occasional stoplight, he hadn't seemed out of the ordinary, save for perhaps an unusual skill for disguise. Just another criminal best left alone, in his opinion.
Still, Ran had insisted, so Shinichi had gone to collect the (in his opinion) two-bit criminal after one of those raucous, gaudy spectacles he called a heist. He had been expecting a short, angry exchange, Phantom Thief 1412 spitting in his face and declining, Shinichi administering one of the amnesia-inducing drugs Miyano from the chemistry department had been slaving over, and then going on his way to complain to Ran. Easy, clean, simple.
But then Shinichi had actually laid eyes on Kuroba Kaito – Kuroba Kaito, who had the oddest look, equal parts playful and predatory, in his hungry, tired eyes and a smile so quicksilver one could get whiplash trying to follow it. In person, he was nothing like the grainy fragments caught on film. The moment Shinichi had taken a good look at him, Shinichi had been entranced, because Kuroba Kaito had been, and still was, half antihero and half angel, half showman and half cynic, half smiles and half masks. He was the most perfect mystery Shinichi had ever encountered.
And Shinichi – well, Shinichi never could resist a good mystery. So he hadn't – which, in the end, cut his capacity for rational decision making to about zero wherever Kaito was involved.
(Incidentally, the extent to which Shinichi had fallen was still up for debate. Ran called him "disgustingly besotted." Shinichi called it "emotionally compromised." He still had his pride, after all.)
Regardless of nomenclature, Shinichi thought as he shifted on their couch and watched Kaito wade through the sea of socialites and CEOs through the camera mounted on Kaito's tie pin, he had long since come to terms with the fact that he was pretty much screwed in the concentration department. It took a Herculean effort to focus on the mission on hand when he could reminisce about what Kaito had looked like in the impeccable bespoke suit he'd procured for his disguise, think about how he'd grinned at Shinichi before donning the latex mask and heading out the door.
Shaking his head, Shinichi buzzed into the mic tucked in Kaito's ear when he recognized one of Takeda's business partners approaching. "Three o'clock, that guy with the gray suit? He's Hamada Yuutarou, one of your friends and your current business partner," he recited from memory.
He could almost hear Kaito sighing. "He's, like, ninety-seven, how is he even alive," he mumbled, making Shinichi smirk, before he dropped into his disguised voice and called, "Oh, Hamada-san!" as Hamada came within earshot.
"Don't be a stranger, Kousuke-kun," Hamada beamed, reaching up to pat Kaito on the shoulder. His bony fingers clasped tight around Kaito's bicep. "My, you're looking lovely tonight, my boy."
"Why thank you," Kaito laughed, somehow managing to extract his arm from the man while still acting natural. Shinichi could practically taste his horror through the comms, and he had to smother a smile in the back of his hand.
"By any chance, were you invited here by Yamamoto-san?" Kaito asked Hamada, who nodded.
"Indeed I was! What an excellent fellow. I hear he's got some of the good stuff, too, if you're looking for it," the older man winked, dripping lasciviousness, and Kaito laughed, though Shinichi could tell from the minute twitching of the camera that he had tensed.
"Oh, really? You know where I could get some of that?" he questioned with artful nonchalance.
Hamada laughed. He was missing several of his teeth, Shinichi noted in the back of his mind. "Dear boy, if what I've been hearing is true, I'm certain you'd be much more likely to wrangle any of that out of Yamamoto than I," he chortled with a knowing wink. "All you'd have to do is flutter those pretty eyelashes of yours and he'd be handing you metric tons of the stuff." Still chuckling, he patted Kaito once more on the shoulder before hobbling off to harass some other poor young man.
"Well," Kaito whispered as he paused by a truly hideous portrait of an obese pug, "I think I need to take a fifteen hour shower to wash off all the creepiness, but, uh, at least we know Hamada isn't in with Yamamoto? Yet, at least? Although Takeda seems kind of suspicious."
Shifting on the couch, Shinichi ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Yes, well. I was hoping we'd maybe get something more than that, but I suppose that's good enough for now. I think it's almost time for you to go find Yamamoto, so you should start making your way to…" He flicked through a few of the surveillance feeds Hakuba had hacked into, searching for Yamamoto. According to his file, he was about one hundred and eighty centimeters tall, with dark hair –
"Ah, Takeda-kun!" The camera swiveled as Kaito instinctively turned towards the voice. Shinichi squinted at the video, trying to identify the man who was advancing on Kaito with a wide, white-toothed smile. Surprisingly young, good-looking, dark-haired, roughly one hundred and eighty centimeters, wearing a dark blue suit of expensive Italian make, complete with one of the most overblown silk pocket squares Shinichi had ever seen –
"It's Yamamoto," he hissed into the mic, and Kaito straightened with a surprised hum. "Okay, act natural."
Kaito didn't have time to reply before Yamamoto was coming to a stop in front of him, his smile still stuck in place. "Takeda-kun," he reiterated, his voice a low, smooth baritone as he inclined his head in a polite nod. "It's nice to see you decided to come to this little party of mine."
"Well, of course I did," Kaito responded. Shinichi could hear the warm, manufactured smile in his tone. "I was very interested in what you… insinuated."
"Oh, really?" For some odd reason, Yamamoto began to lean forward, close enough that the only thing Shinichi could see was the well-woven lapel of his suit jacket.
"Kaito, he's overwhelming the camera," he murmured. Kaito took a small step back, tilting his head to one side as he laughed.
"Of course I'm interested, Yamamoto-san. Why wouldn't I be, when it came from a man like you?" he half-sang, and Shinichi shook his head and forced himself to relax against the couch cushions. Trust Kaito to play up the seductive playboy thing. Granted, he liked doing that outside of missions as well – Shinichi could only attest to that unfortunate character trait, seeing as he'd been on the receiving end of Kaito's casual, meaningless flirting all too many times for his heart to escape unscathed – but it still irked Shinichi to see him using the same tactics on others.
He peeked at the feed, trying not to sulk. Unsurprisingly, Yamamoto was enraptured, beaming at Kaito as if Kaito was some kind of diamond in the rough. (Which he was, Shinichi thought viciously, but he'd know that much better than Yamamoto.) "I'm so glad you're interested, Kousuke," he all but purred, and then he extended one hand to – caress the back of Kaito's neck?
Shinichi was struck by the sudden urge to hurl his computer across the room. He was aware that he was making a strange hissing sound, not dissimilar to the sound an angry cat made when its tail was stepped on, but he was more preoccupied with the asshole who was touching Kaito like some kind of molester and therefore deserved to have his kidneys forcibly removed.
Kaito, to his credit, only gave a startled laugh. "Well," he managed, sounding rather attractively breathless, and never mind forcible kidney removal, Shinichi was going to stab Yamamoto in the eye socket and break all his fingers.
"When you didn't respond to my advances," Yamamoto was saying with his hand still on Kaito, "I thought you weren't interested at all, but I'm overjoyed that you reconsidered. As you know, I've been enamored of you ever since that first time we met at that awful cocktail party. You're the only one I want, Kousuke. I would be honored if you would consent to the wedding." When Kaito apparently only continued to look shell shocked, Yamamoto amended, "If you don't want a large wedding, we could have a private ceremony." He paused. "Maybe one a cruise ship. How do you like the Caribbean? I think you'd look amazing against the ocean, my dear." He gave a dreamy sigh.
"Oh my God," Shinichi choked as realization struck. He devoted a long moment to bemoaning the fact that of course, of all the people Yamamoto had invited, they just had to pick the one he wanted to marry for Kaito to impersonate. Just typical. He was going to slaughter the mission intel department the moment he got Kaito out of that idiot's slimy hands.
"Darling," Kaito began with quivery apprehension, sounding like one of those fainting heroines from those bodice-ripping romance novels (and Shinichi had to employ the yoga breathing exercises Ran had taught him on her off day at the thought of Kaito swooning in Yamamoto's unmuscular, disgusting arms), "this whole time… I don't know why, but I thought you were trying to get me to join your drug… syndicate. And you know I… I don't have the money or time to invest in that, and…"
"Oh, sweetheart." Yamamoto looked down at Kaito with pain in his eyes, tugging Kaito forward into his gross, disgusting, revolting, probably well-muscled chest. Shinichi snarled obscenities in every language he could think of as the camera feed turned into an up-close shot of Yamamoto's top button. "I would never try to get you involved in any of that, especially when I know how rough things have been for you lately," his voice murmured, suddenly loud. Shinichi came to the realization that Yamamoto was whispering in Kaito's ear, oblivious of the earpiece, and he began jotting down some ideas on the best ways to dispose of a dark-haired, one hundred and eighty-centimeter-tall body.
"Dearest, you're so sweet," Kaito gushed. The video shuddered as he extricated himself from Yamamoto's grasp, wobbling to focus on Yamamoto's diamond-studded tie clip. Shinichi gritted his teeth – that meant they were still almost chest to chest, didn't it?
Why was Kaito being so – so accommodating? The man was a known drug dealer, and there Kaito was, hanging all over him like some… some naïve little airhead. In all the times Shinichi had seen him being hit on, by men and women alike, Kaito had always been flirty and coquettish, but he always deflected their advances in the end. So why was he practically melting into Yamamoto's hands?
The thought that wait a second, Yamamoto is actually good-looking, what if Kaito is genuinely attracted to him struck Shinichi, and he scowled so hard he almost felt something break. No. That was unacceptable. First of all, Yamamoto was a criminal –
But Kaito was originally a criminal, too, an unhelpful voice sing-songed in the back of his mind. Maybe he likes his men a little rough. Maybe that's why he has absolutely no interest in you. Did you ever think of that, hm?
Shoving the thought aside, Shinichi let out a huff. Okay. Fine. Maybe it was possible that, if Kaito was attracted to Yamamoto, he would be willing to – to… what?
A chill shot up Shinichi's back. What if – no, Kaito wouldn't but – but what if he actually... actually slept with him?
Shinichi sat there for a moment longer, fingers twitching as Kaito exchanged more meaningless endearments with Yamamoto, before he switched feeds to Hattori, who was disguised as a nondescript waiter.
"Hattori," he said once he'd buzzed into Hattori's earpiece. Hattori flinched, almost knocking over a poor young lady in his surprise.
"What? What's happened, Kudou?" he hissed after apologizing to the girl. "Is Kuroba being held hostage or something?"
"Not – really," Shinichi had to admit, but before Hattori could do anything more than make a confused noise, he snapped, "Just go up to him and tell him that he's got a family emergency or something. Get him away from Yamamoto. He's in the first gallery on the second floor."
"Wait, what's going –"
"Do it," Shinichi demanded before he buzzed out and went to wash his face with cold water and try not to think about how he'd just ruined the mission because he couldn't stand to see Kaito cozying up to some drug kingpin.
Being emotionally compromised sucked.
Uh, well... you know how I said this was going to be two parts? It's actually going to be three. I've already finished the whole thing (but let me tell you it's veeeery shittily written, and I'm kind of scrambling to make it less, um, shitty).
Anyway, hope you liked this part (if you did, please consider leaving me a review!) and I'll see you all later! - Luna