Summary: A man is gunned down. Kurogane and Fai go out to buy a TV, and Syaoran drops in to deliver some ominous news.
Warnings: Blood and violence. Homosexual pairings (read: CLAMP pairings). KF with other CLAMP pairings. A little dark, with a generally depressing setting. Arson, murder, crime and scapegoats.
A/N: I know. I know! I have too many chaptered fics going on at the same time!
"…yesterday evening. Police officers quickly flooded the scenes in order to…"
His groan drowns out the rest of the sentence as he rolls over. Red eyes flicker open blearily as his movement is met with soft, warm resistance.
"On to the business news. Yesterday the Dow Jones industrial average…"
A sleepy splutter of breath issues from the lump beside him. A moment later, quiet snores resume their constant rhythm; he didn't realize Fai snored. Like a cat, Kurogane thinks dazedly, still caught up in his semi-somnolent state of awakening, like a cat purring.
"…major oil spill down by the Gulf of Mexico promises a sharp spike in oil prices as…"
The eloquent broadcasting of the morning news drifts in from the living room. The television is still on from the night before and Kurogane finds himself somewhat put off that Fai hadn't thought to switch it off. No matter. It had not disturbed his sleep. Not that he thinks anything could have disturbed his sleep—the numb grogginess that permeates his body as he slips from between the covers is a testament to that.
He stretches, blinks, notices that Fai is sleeping face-down in the pillow. He's gonna suffocate himself like this. With a sigh, he reaches across the rumpled covers to turn Fai over but ceases in his attempts as Fai begins to whimper in his sleep. Letting out a dismissive snort, he leaves the man alone and stomps (quietly) off to the bathroom to wash up. Fai is still whimpering when he emerges, so he takes a moment to shake the man awake. Blue eyes stare up at him, blinking slowly and uncomprehendingly.
"You were having a nightmare," he says shortly.
Blink. Blink. Fai turns over onto his side, back to Kurogane, and promptly goes back to sleep.
The next thing he does is to trudge out of the bedroom to switch off the television. He revises his opinion; the broadcasting is not at all eloquent. In fact, the sounds murmuring quietly from the small speakers on either side of the television set splutters and spits every so often. The television is letting out a low, alarming whine as the recording skips and lags. The remote is not in its usual place, and by the time he finds it (it was hiding behind the hot water dispenser) and aims it at the television, the ancient device gives one last splutter and dies before he can even press the power button.
Well.
Time to get a new one.
As he places the remote back onto the coffee table, he is distracted by the display on his phone. To begin with, he always keeps his phone connected to the charger on his nightstand as he sleeps—he remembers the abrupt surge of tiredness that had overcome him. He has one bar of battery left, and the screen is dulled; probably in energy-saving mode. 9 missed calls, reads the small flashing box on his screen, above the message prompting him for his password. He keys it in, and the list of numbers roll out. Watanuki Kimihiro, Watanuki Kimihiro, Watanuki Kimihiro.
The small envelope icon blinking in the corner of his screen alerts him to a single unread message from Watanuki that reads: Call me back immediately. He does so.
'You idiot! Are you such a log that you can't even wake up after I called you so many times?!' serves as his only greeting.
"Good morning," he says, somewhat sarcastically.
'Good morning? Good morning?! It's not a good morning at all! It's a bad morning, the worst morning!' Watanuki screeches over the phone, and Kurogane holds it away from his ear as the shrieking goes on, "A man was killed last night!"
Kurogane blinks.
"What?!"
'I said that—'
Unapologetically, Kurogane cuts the secretary off.
"I heard you the first time," he snaps, and then thinks for a moment, "Fai was with me the whole time."
A pause.
'….Are the cameras in?'
"They were in yesterday."
'Alright then. Ah! Kurogane-san. We've had an… anonymous tip-off that there may be a murder tomorrow night down by the warehouses. We're putting you on tomorrow's patrol. Be at the warehouses by eleven," a pause, "That's all. Have a good day. Bye."
"What? Wait!"
Beep. Beep. Bee—
Kurogane glares at the phone as if it were responsible for rude people and their regrettable lack of social skills. He ends the call.
It's early enough that Tomoyo is absent by the time he reaches the office. The lobby is dark, lit only by the sunlight streaming in through the glass doors. The keys jingle as he fishes them out of his pocket, but he is surprised to find the doors already open. Hushed voices greet him when he pushes the door open and pokes his head in. The light in the kitchen is turned on.
"…it's wrong, okay? I can't do this anymore."
The voices are a spare whisper, so quiet that he cannot make out the speaker. With a frown, he throws his coat over the sofa and heads for the door, left ajar.
"You have to. You know what will happen if you don't."
He reaches out towards the door.
"Then what am I supposed to—"
As the door creaks open, two brunette heads snap up sharply towards him. Syaoran and Sakura each take a discreet step back from one another as Kurogane's eyes narrow.
"Is something going on?"
"No," they reply in unison, "Everything's fine."
Too quick. The silence that befalls them is an uncomfortable one. Sakura abruptly clears her throat as she turns away.
"Here," she says, thrusting an opaque plastic bag at him, "It's for Fai."
Suspiciously, Kurogane peers in, and a nondescript lunchbox peers innocuously out at him.
"Just pop it in the microwave," Sakura says unnecessarily, and offers him a bright smile.
The rub of fur around his shins distracts him adequately from the conversation.
"Souhi!"
Large blue eyes stare up at him.
"Mrraaow."
"She was with me," Sakura tells him, and Kurogane abruptly remembers that she'd been gone the whole of yesterday.
"How do you know about Souhi?" he asks somewhat suspiciously.
Souhi rears up to paw at his abdomen, and he reaches absent-minded to scratch her under the chin. Sakura smiles, and Kurogane is slightly wary to note the similarities in that curvature of lips to Fai's.
"Fai told me about her," she says.
A loud hiss draws his attention to the tabby wound around Syaoran's leg.
"Hien?" he asks after a moment.
Hien turns its face into Syaoran's pants leg sullenly. Syaoran reaches down and picks her up with a slight huff of exertion. The cat is a large one, but it purrs contentedly as it bats gently at Syaoran's cheek with one of its massive paws.
"She likes you," Kurogane notes warily, "That monster hates me."
As if eager to prove his point, Hien shoots him an undoubtedly dirty look and hisses. Syaoran pets her ears to pacify her. The effect is immediate; Hien settles against his abdomen, purring contentedly even it eyes Kurogane with distrust. Warily, Kurogane notes the wicked claws the monster cat is armed with, and decides not to tempt fate by foolishly remaining somewhat within clawing distance.
"I'll be in my office," he says in makeshift farewell. Souhi squeezes out after him as the pantry door swings shut after him and pads quietly into his office after him. Ignoring her, he searches along the side of his PC for the power switch, and settles back against his chair as the start-up screen flashes over his monitor.
Burugaru. That had been the name Syaoran had given him the night before, hadn't it?
He sets about going through his usual procedure of research, first Google, then the database. Google yields little, but the dead man's profile is slightly more telling. Kurogane skims right past the man's unpronounceable surname, vaguely noting that the deceased was a Korean migrant, to his not quite modest list of criminal charges. Assault, harassment, blackmail and coercion. A hefty bail covered his release every single time, most recent of all a case of arson at a warehouse down in Limbo, just scantly half a year ago.
Warehouse 62. Kurogane remembers seeing it in the newspapers. The fire had been particularly bad. The entire warehouse had burnt down, and the flames had spread to nearby buildings, taking down several others with it. Ironic then, for the man to have met the end he had. It is entirely unjust, Kurogane thinks, that the man had likely been dealing drugs down by the docks when he had died. Probably only escaped the deathrow all those times due to his influence in the underworld.
And Fai?
It is with some horror that the realization hits him. Influence, money, power; those were what the murderer needed to buy his way out of the noose when they finally caught him. And who would take the fall then?
With a impatient purr equivalent to the whine of a frustrated child, Souhi clambers up into his lap, clearly disgruntled at his lack of attention towards her. Absently, Kurogane scratches her under the chin. He is surprised to find himself struck with a strong and insistent sentiment, one that bewilders him. Fai doesn't deserve that. When had he grown that attached to the man? An indignant resistance to the notion of injustice he could understand, but this he cannot fathom. When had the blonde crept so inconspicuously and so completely into his heart? When had he stopped being able to think of Fai as simply, The Suspect?
Sighing, he snaps himself from his pondering. Useless it was; it would do nothing to solve the problem currently at hand. He carefully extracts his hand from Souhi's playful paws and rubs her belly with his free hand to placate her. Painstakingly, he goes through the profiles of every suspect, past and present. Randomly chosen they might have been, but with how hopelessly the case was progressing, Kurogane doubts he has much choice.
Monou Kotori, the pretty blonde girl who'd come to his office what seemed like years ago. She had two brothers, one of whom was a half-sibling from an earlier marriage.
Kuzuki Kakyou, the bedridden son of a rich man, heir to an empire of luxury automobiles.
Kakei and his employee, young Kudou Kazahaya, both of whom lived above their small department store along with two others.
Tsukishiro Yukito, a modest clerk who worked in the city and lived with his colleague and the man's sister—
The thought grinds to a halting stop there. He remembers meeting Touya when the man had come to pick Yukito from his office, and recognizing him when he'd gone down to Limbo to get Fai that day so long ago. Hadn't he been Fai's driver? And if he was Yukito's colleague, then the stories did not quite add up.
With a sigh, Kurogane pinches the bridge of his nose, hoping to alleviate the growing throb between his brows. Was the database outdated? Because that could potentially cause plenty of problems. Pausing briefly to scratch Souhi behind the ears as she begins to grow restless once more, Kurogane leans over the armrest of his chair to pull the drawer set into his desk open, and is disconcerted to find its contents in disarray.
Souhi lets out a discontented and somewhat reproachful meow as he nudges her off his lap and gets down on his knees to sort out the mess that has become of his files. After rifling through the papers once, he blinks, and looks through it a second time, taking a little more care in his search this time. By the end of his third search, he is certain.
The files of the suspects are gone.
The rest of the case notes are intact in their folders, his old files from past cases are untouched. There is nothing touched except the profiles and notes he'd taken from his interrogations of the suspects and half a page torn off from his own profile. A chill runs down his spine, and despite himself, Kurogane finds himself warily eying the corners of his office where an assailant could be lurking. Souhi is a comforting presence twining itself around his arm….
With a shake, he brushes off his irrational fears. How silly of him; a grown man taking comfort in an oversized house cat? A fully grown, six-foot-five trained police officer to boot.
Syaoran, he decides finally, and stands. Syaoran had probably gone through the files for some reason or another. Or perhaps Tomoyo. Yes, Tomoyo. He walks briskly through the door of his office, ignoring Souhi's indignant hiss as she bounds after him and nearly gets caught in his door, and is somewhat put off to note that Tomoyo is still not in office. A peek into the pantry and into Syaoran's office alerts him to the curious fact that Syaoran is not in either, and as he strides out into the reception, he catches a flash of brown hair and a flapping coat outside the glass of the front doors.
Throwing the doors open, he runs after the boy, eyes fixed on Syaoran's back next to another's (Sakura, he decides after a short moment) from across the carpark. A yell and a lightning flash of movement to his left is all the warning he gets before a harsh impact to his side knocks him to the floor. The blow is strong enough that he rolls over twice before coming to a dazed halt.
"Oh my god," comes a horrified voice from the main road, "Did that bicycle just knock over that man?"
"Ah! I'm terribly sorry!"
Blinking hard several times in an attempt to clear the stars still bursting over his vision, Kurogane pushes himself up onto all fours. A couple of blinks later, he notices a large, calloused hand being held out to him.
"I didn't see you," the owner of that hand tells him apologetically, "You came out so quickly…"
A strange gleam in the man's eye has Kurogane rising quickly to his feet and taking a disorientated step back. Still blinking, he collects himself enough to notice that the man is wearing glasses. Japanese, probably around Kurogane's age.
"Ah," he says, a little belatedly, "It's alright."
With a smile, the man holds his hand out, his eyes not leaving Kurogane's face.
"Jim Smith," he says briskly, "Terribly sorry."
Acting on reflex, Kurogane reaches forward to shake the man's hand.
A gunshot.
Across the carpark, Syaoran and Sakura whip around, eyes wide.
In front of him, the stranger sways.
A small rivulet of blood trickles down a crooked nose, catching in the rim of silver glasses. Numbly, Kurogane watches the man crumble limply to the floor. Dark brown eyes stare up at him as if in shock, uncomprehending and unsuspecting of the bullet that had so unceremoniously ended his life. The bullet wound weeps silent tears of blood, a red bulls-eye dead centre in the man's forehead.
It is then that the screams start.
Starting, Kurogane snaps out of his dazed shock. His gaze swivels across the horrified faces of passerbys strolling down the pavement and motorists getting out of their cars, a tableau of commuters frozen in the face of unexpected murder. He ignores them all, focusing only on the barest flutter of black fabric around a faraway doorway; an open corridor overlooking the carpark is where the murderer had stood watch.
With single-minded purpose, he gives chase.
"Kurogane-san, where are you going?" Syaoran cries as Kurogane passes him.
A sharp turn down an narrow, isolated alleyway allows him to catch the scantest whisper of near-silent footsteps from above. A few meters down the alleyway is a side-door into the complex, ever so slightly ajar. He is known to have nearly inhumane hearing, and the echo of quiet footsteps, the rhythm of footfalls distinctive of a man hurrying down a flight of stairs with no small amount of grace, leads him on. A small rectangle of light marks the doorway to an enclosed stairwell at the end of a dark corridor.
In a silent prowl, Kurogane moves noiselessly forward like a great cat on the hunt. Despite that, he hears the footsteps falter as he steps through the doorway into the white fluorescent light against white painted walls. A pause, and then the footsteps continue even more silently, whispering quietly away from him. Baring his teeth in a silent growl, Kurogane takes to the spiraling stairs three at a time, thankful for the reach that his long legs afford him.
As if sensing his soundless approach, the murderer quickens.
An occasional flicker of black like a shadow against the white walls, so quickly gone that it could have been just a figment of his imagination, plays through the metal railings several flights above him. This man is no amateur, Kurogane knows. He is silent despite his startling swiftness; his alertness is only another testament to his experience.
The quiet clatter of a door closing has Kurogane leaning out over the railing to discern which corridor the murderer has escaped through. The top floor. Hurrying up the stairs, he bursts out into the blinding daylight of the grey rooftop terrace only to finds the expanse of concrete floor empty with not a shadow to hide in.
Pure gut feeling has him bolting for the side of the building. A figure in a black coat disappears down the alleyway, at least ten floors below.
A cursory glance around him provides him with a means to pursuit.
A drainage pipe snakes down the side of the building, black with mold. His grip on the metal is tenuous at best, slippery as the algae is beneath his fingers. Not entirely safe, but worth a shot, judging by the finger smudges already embedded in the mold. Fear has no place in the mindless focus of the hunt. A daring leap over the side of the building and a some careful maneuvering has Kurogane landing safely on firm ground with nothing but a superficial scrape or two to show for it.
As he bursts out from the alleyway into a maze of back streets, Kurogane catches a flicker of movement, a catlike dart up an overflowing dumpster onto a nearby fire-escape down one of the alleys.
Splashing unmindfully through filthy black puddles of stale rainwater, Kurogane hauls himself up onto the fire escape, and is startled when it groans dangerously and tilts ever so slightly under his weight, throwing him against the railing beside him. Through the red grill floor of the fire escape above him, he sees the black shadow of the murderer's feet falter a split-second, balance thrown off by the shift of ground below him. A small stumble, a regaining of footing, and then a deft flash of a black leather trench coat above as the stranger vaults over the railing in a noiseless leap. Gracefully, the figure slips over the railing of the fire escape of the building opposite them and continues in silent flight.
The distance between this fire escape and the next might have appeared formidable to some, but Kurogane has no such qualms about his ability to make the jump. Swinging himself over the railing, he lands with a quiet clatter on the metal flooring of the next fire escape. A passing flutter of the black coat at the end of the building sends him running. Just below him is another dumpster, which the murderer had no doubt used as a step down from the fire escape. A door sways on its hinges a distance down the narrow alleyway.
Leaping down onto the dumpster's lid and then down onto the slippery floor, Kurogane wrenches the door open and finds himself confronted with the musty smell of dusty cardboard boxes upon rusty metal shelves.
A storehouse.
A quiet rustle of fabric has him dropping into a defensive stance. A pause.
Through the shelves, he catches sight of a figure slipping nimbly down the aisles, just a couple of feet away. Their dance is that of two wary predators, circling each other semi-blindly around the maze of shelves. They are both dressed in the darkest of blacks, and in this unlit room of shadows and mysterious objects that could at any moment be mistaken to be a man, they are both nigh invisible to one another.
A sudden flash of black through a gap in the boxes in front of him has Kurogane jerking back. On the other side of this shelf. At his involuntary intake of air, the man on the opposite side of the shelf starts. A pause. The murderer bolts.
Cursing, Kurogane sprints down the aisle and swings around the end of the shelf in time to see a door slam shut at the end of the room. Forgoing all silence now that they are both undoubtedly aware of one another, he barrels down the room, unceremoniously pushing brooms and buckets out of his way. Loping the last few steps, he grasps the cold handle of the door and wrenches it open to the shock of daylight, the roar of human activity, and the impact of a frail body against his own.
With a yell and a clatter, an old man falls to the floor, dropping the black garbage bag he'd been carrying. Swearing, Kurogane stumbles over the man and falls to one knee.
"Are you alright?"
The sudden commotion that surrounds him, the faceless mob pressing in around him is too much for him. Disorientated, he blinks as he scans through the crowd, deaf to their chatter.
A single face stands out to him amidst the sea of strangers.
Black hair falls into disconcertingly mismatched eyes staring right back at him, one a frighteningly intense hawk's yellow, the other a blind, milky white. A face that would have been considered handsome by many, bearing an expression so like stone that it shook him.
A slow, deliberate blink, and then the man melds away into the throng, gone as quickly as a passing shadow.
Hours later, he finds himself finally cleared of all administrative issues, having given his account of events. He would have been worried about Fai, hungry back at his apartment, but Sakura had offered to take the bento to him. The dead man's body is currently going through forensic probing but still, that stranger's face lingers in his memory.
Had that been the same man responsible for the arson-murder cases he was now so deeply embroiled in? The style and timing of the murder was completely different. Jim Smith had been shot in broad daylight, and his murder had been clean and painfully efficient. The man he'd seen hadn't matched the description they'd been given right at the beginning of all this either. Fair hair and light eyes, Leah Cummins had told them before she had been murdered in her apartment. Was that description wrong then?
But Kurogane had seen the murderer himself, and the style of dress was definitely unalike. The murderer had always worn an executioner's hood; or had the man perhaps abandoned his disguise, suspicious as it was to be donning such a garb during the daylight hours when people still roamed the streets?
Groaning, Kurogane starts the engine and begins to reverse out of the parking lot. All this speculating would do him no good. Conjecture. He had nothing to base his investigations on, which likely explained his own confusion. The ride back to his apartment passes in a blur of worries and paranoia. Even ascending the stairs, striding purposely down the corridor, unlocking the door, the paranoia persists in the form of a nagging itch at the back of his neck, as if someone is watching him.
Constant paranoia that one is being watched is a sign of schizophrenia, he thinks to himself frustratedly as he turns the key in the lock. A click, and the door swings open.
The room is dark, but Fai jerks up from the couch, and his bewildered blue eyes and tousled hair lends credence to Kurogane's suspicion that he'd been napping on the couch. His statement immediately after cements the though.
"Merde," Fai groans as he rubs the back of his neck, "Sleeping on the couch is never good for one's back."
Shrugging his coat off, he flings it over the back of a chair, and briefly squeezes the back of Fai's neck as he passes. Moaning, Fai closes his eyes and tilts his head to allow better contact, then rolls his head as Kurogane withdraws and slips into the bedroom to change into something more comfortable.
"There was a power failure," Fai tells him conversationally, voice drifting in to him from the living room, "I can't turn the lights on."
With an absent hum of acknowledgement, Kurogane opens his closet.
"Did you eat?" he asks casually as he pulls his shirt off.
"Sakura came over to deliver a bento," Fai tells him, "It was good."
The mention of the girl reminds him of an unresolved mystery. Shrugging on a worn navy t-shirt, Kurogane walks back out and plops himself onto the couch.
"Hey, does a man called Tsukishiro Yukito work for you?"
A pause.
"Why do you want to know?" is the evasive answer to his question.
Kurogane frowns.
"Is there something to hide?" he returns.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Fai stand and move over to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water in silence. His back is turned, and Kurogane cannot see his face, but the man's shoulders look strangely tense in their deliberate relaxation.
"Trouble comes to those who speak," Fai says finally.
Kurogane quietly considers those words for a moment. Leah Cummins and Syaoran are the first people who come to mind.
"The database said that Yukito was working in a small office up on this side," he acquiesces, "I was wondering if he worked for you, because he did mention that he and your driver were colleagues. I'll have to tell the higher-ups to update the database if it's outdated."
The subtle loosening of those shoulders say what Kurogane cannot pry from Fai's expression, turned away as he is. The quiet of trickle of water against porcelain fills the silence between them before Fai finally sets the pitcher down with a clack and speaks up once more.
"He does work for me, but both he and Touya are part-timers. I know they take on many odd jobs so I can't tell you if your database is outdated or not. I really have no idea what the two of them do outside of my cafe."
That explained matters, though it didn't at the same time. He massaged the bridge of his nose as he stood and nudged past Fai to open up one of the cabinets. So was the database outdated or not?
"Pour me a glass," he sighs, "I need an aspirin."
There is the briefest stroke of fingertips over his back before Fai withdraws to grab another cup for him, "Bad day?"
"You have no idea."
As he straightens up, Fai pushes a mug into his hands.
"Sakura told me what happened," he says sympathetically, "That poor man."
Kurogane shrugs.
"Shit happens," he says gruffly, and tilts his chin up as he swallows the pill, two more gulps of water washes it smoothly down. He leans back against the counter, "You should get changed," he says finally, eying the crinkled state of Fai's clothes, "I don't feel like cooking so we're going out for dinner."
"Let's have Japanese," Fai says immediately, "I haven't had that in a while."
Kurogane dismissively waves his consent, and Fai sets his own cup down on the island before withdrawing into the bedroom. Finishing the last of his water, Kurogane puts his mug away, strangely comforted by the quiet sounds of Fai's movement from within.
The doorbell rings just as Fai pokes his head out. Fai tilts his head, eying the door before turning back to Kurogane.
"I'm going to take a shower," he says, and then heads for the bathroom with one last curious glance over his shoulder.
A wary peek through the peephole as the shower begins to run allows him a glimpse of a disgruntled looking chambermaid. He wonders what brings her up here when the housekeeping staff were always so discreet, even for a serviced apartment. Opening the door, he greets her with a short, "Good afternoon."
"Good afternoon, sir," she says in clipped tones, and then shoves something into his hands, "Please do refrain from throwing anything that isn't laundry down the laundry chute."
A glance down reveals the mystery object to be the very same bento that Sakura had passed to him that morning, and then taken back.
"Sorry," he mumbles, "Have a guest over."
The chambermaid purses her lips, but her eyes are a little less stern as she tells him, "Please tell your guest that the laundry chute is a laundry chute, not a garbage chute. Thank you."
Her heels clip against the floor as she retreats down the corridor with no further ado. Bemused, Kurogane closes the door after her, turning the bento over in his hands. It was a rather pretty bento, one that did not really look disposable. With a shrug, he slips into the kitchen and arms himself with detergent and a sponge. Must as well wash it and keep it, he thinks as he sets the lid down beside him, and begins to rinse out the inside of the bento. It would be a waste to throw it away when it was clearly not a disposable bento.
Something scrawled inside the lid of the bento with a marker catches his eye as he picks it up and turns it over.
Kakei says thank you for the cake.
A message from Sakura? Putting the bento under running water and rubbing at the words with his thumb yields no results. Permanent marker then. But that was unimportant. The real question was why the secrecy? Fai had probably mistook the laundry chute for a trash chute. That he hadn't disposed of the bento by throwing it in the trash-bin as he'd been doing for the rest of his stay (as Kurogane deduced, since he hadn't had any angry housekeeping staff coming to his door any other day) surely meant something.
Making up his mind, Kurogane turns the tap off and quickly ducks out of his apartment to chuck the bento into the trash bin in the corridor.
The front door clicks shut behind him just as he hears the shower stop. He settles himself on the couch as the bathroom door creaks open. A moment later, Fai emerges from the bedroom, towel wrapped over his hair once more.
"Aren't you going to get changed?"
"I'm fine like this."
Fai shrugs as if to say suit yourself, and plops down on the couch beside him.
"The TV's really fried," he comments off-handedly, "It wouldn't even turn on."
Ignoring him, Kurogane turns to watch him.
"Has your birthday passed any time in the past few days?" he asks slowly, and is met with some bewilderment from Fai.
"Erm, no?"
"Then when's your birthday."
Blue eyes suddenly turn sly. Fai winks cheekily at him as he sidles a little closer.
"If I tell you, then I expect a present from my Kuro-pup," he teases.
Kurogane considers the words for a moment before replying.
"What do you want then? I'll buy it for you once your birthday comes around."
With a chuckle, Fai flops over into his lap, resting his chin in one hand as he peers lazily up at Kurogane.
"Advance my gift," he drawls, "Buy a new TV before I really die of boredom here. Even watching MTV was better than this."
"We can buy one after dinner."
Fai blinks and sits back up.
"Eh?" he yelps, "I was joking! You don't have to buy a TV for my birthday!"
Kurogane sighs.
"I have to replace the one you ruined anyway."
Fai has the grace to look distinctively sheepish.
"I'll pay half for it," he offers, "Since it was my fault it died in the first place."
"You don't have to—"
"I want to."
Kurogane shrugs and stands.
"Suit yourself," he says, "It's not my pocket you're emptying."
A while later, the door clicks shut with a quiet finality behind them.
You'd think he'd be immune to embarrassment by now. But still, television shopping with Fai has to be the single most humiliating experience of his life.
"Oh! Oh!" Fai cries, pointing at yet another of the large display screens, "I know that one too!"
Despite the dread pooling in his gut, Kurogane turns around anyway. On the screen, a group of girls are doing some disgustingly cutesy jig. In front of the television, Fai is dancing along to them.
"Gee gee gee gee, baby, baby, baby, gee gee gee gee…."
Snarling, the investigator turns away from those big blue eyes and pouting lips and storms down the aisle. He can tell Fai is following him only from the annoying 'gee gee gee'ing that is keeping a constant distance behind him. As he turns the corner and starts down the next aisle, Fai dances around the corner right after him, batting his eyelashes all the while. His voice is drowned out for a moment by the loud blasting from the televisions on this aisle. They're playing a different video.
"Oh!" Fai gasps delightedly, and Kurogane wants to hide in a hole somewhere, "I know this! Tell me, tell me, t-t-t-t-t-tell me! Ja ja doo doo da dum ma heh~ ma heh~"
Kurogane walks a little faster, but Fai manages to keep up. Halfway down the aisle, he changes song abruptly along with the displays. Kurogane curses as he reaches a dead end, and spins around. Fai is pulling his hands slowly up his body, swaying his hips and looking right at Kurogane as he does.
"Blah blah blah ba da ba sayho, ba da ba da ba sayho," he clearly has no idea how to speak the language, "I want nobody nobody, nobody nobody!"
Kurogane cringes and turns away.
"I want nobody nobody but you," he smacks Fai's finger away and squeezes past the man, "I want nobody nobody but you…"
The worst part is that Fai isn't a bad dancer at all. Not that Kurogane is ever going to say that out loud. And he can pretend not to see the giggling salesgirls and the other guys standing around checking Fai's ass out. He has to turn back once as they are turning into the next aisle to pull Fai away from one of the salesmen, who he is taking great delight in torturing (seducing). Fai giggles and breaks out of his grip, skipping down between the rows of televisions and spinning around near the middle.
"Bo peep bo peep bo peep bo peep bo peep bo peep bo peep ohh~" Kurogane makes a face at the practically orgasmic sound that Fai makes, "Bo peep bo peep bo peep bo peep bo peep bo peep ah ahhh~"
It is the most annoying song Kurogane has had the misfortune to hear, so the moment Fai turns around, bends over and begins to roll his hips to the rhythm, he turns around and makes his way out of the aisle. Fai bo peeps his way past Kurogane, the fists raised by his face probably meant to be some retarded parody of paws (to his dismay, the girls on the screens on either sides of him are doing the exact same thing) and turns near the end, dancing backwards.
"Follow me, follow me, nada bada follow me!"
"Shut up!"
Kurogane pushes roughly past the man, patience wearing thin. He doesn't know when this trip turned from television shopping to a game of 'get that idiot away from me', but Fai follows after him, still dancing as he pouts.
"I'm so sorry, I'm so sor—"
He might have accepted the apology if it hadn't been a part of the song, but it had, so Kurogane turns around and grabs Fai by the collar, teeth bared in a feral snarl.
"Eep!" Fai cheeps, and hides behind his fists, "Bo peep bo peep?"
That single action is so disgusting (adorable) that Kurogane makes a noise of utter revulsion and shoves Fai away.
"How the hell do you know all these songs anyway?" he grumbles and turns around to inspect the price tags pasted on the screens, "You don't even know the language."
Fai is humming behind him, doing another cutesy dance,
"What else do you think I have to watch while stuck at home?" he asks, dancing along behind Kurogane, "It's not like I can actually leave the house unless you take me out. Unofficial house arrest, yes?"
Kurogane feels a little guilty for that, and resolves to take Fai out more often as he straightens up in front of the television. He immediately takes the sentiment back as he sees Fai—reflected in the dark background of the dancing girls on the screen—gyrating wildly, and making kissy faces at Kurogane's turned back. He turns around, a thunderous look on his face, and Fai is facing a different direction, 'absently' doing his cutesy dance again.
Kurogane forces the urge to throttle the blonde down, and marches on to the next television to check the price, ignoring Fai's gyrating reflection. He'll make Fai carry the TV home later. That'll teach him to… do strange things behind Kurogane's back.
Kurogane ends up carrying the TV home anyway.
And of course, in the lobby Fai, insists that they get the mail out now, while Kurogane is standing there grunting and straining with the television in his arms. At the door, Fai begins to oh-so-slowly look for his keys, rambling slowly about oh where are his keys and oh are they in this pocket, no not there, perhaps in here, no, oh where oh where has his keys gone, and could he have left them in the car, he definitely could have because oh, Kuro-chiot was being such a mean puppy. By the time Fai gets the door open, Kurogane just stumbles straight in without even stopping to kick his boots off, and sets the television down on the floor. Fai is smiling inanely to himself (though the inanity has a tinge of smugness to it this time) as usual, ruffling leisurely through the letters, bills, invoices.
"You're a fucking asshole, you know that?" Kurogane grumbles breathlessly from where he is standing in their kitchen. Fai hasn't teased him like this in some time, but the teasing appears to be back in full force now. He reaches over the kitchen sink to flick the lights on, but apparently the power failure hasn't been fixed yet, so he lights a tealight, puts it in a glass, and walks a little down to set it on the dining table.
Fai casually tosses all the other opened papers (that man has never heard of the concept of privacy; those are Kurogane's letters) over the couch and onto the coffee table, then sashays over waving the invoice for the television.
"This fucking asshole just paid half the price of your TV out of his own bank account," he says, and points at the subtotal written in red at the bottom right corner.
He tears the paper from Fai's grip and then throws the paper at him. Fai dodges, laughing giddily as the invoice barely makes it to him. He catches it midair and throws it back. Kurogane swats at it when it starts to fall in front of him, right into the fire. The fire from the wick licks over the paper and it crumples up immediately and falls to the tiled floor. It's a small fire, nothing that will spread, but Fai squeaks and scrambles away.
"It's on fire!"
Kurogane shrugs, then snags a pair of metal tongs from a rack on the kitchen island and bends down to poke at the flames.
"Yeah, it is."
"Put it out!"
Kurogane looks up, and Fai is standing behind the couch, peering over the back of it at the flames with wide eyes.
"What are you waiting for?" he demands, "Hurry up and put it out!"
He picks the crackling paper up with the tongs and takes a step forward. Fai shrinks away, blanching.
"Are you… afraid?" the investigator chokes incredulously, "You're acting like a girl with a cockroach!"
He takes another step forward, and Fai takes a step back. The back of his knees hit the coffee table. Well. Kurogane never boasted to have a spacious apartment.
"You're afraid!" he crows.
"Stop playing and go put it out!" Fai cries as Kurogane advances around the sofa.
Then the paper disintegrates, falling to the floor in two flaming pieces, and Fai screams. He scrambles away and falls backwards onto the table. The remotes, letters and last night's takeaway falls to the floor, along with Fai as the man backs all the way off the table and scoots across the parquet until his back comes up against the television stand behind him. Kurogane freezes, staring in shock as Fai whimpers. His usually playful blue eyes are wide and terrified, his face white and lips pale as he huddles up in the small space between the coffee table and the empty television stand. The flames spark a little at Kurogane's feet, paper giving a soft crackle, and Fai lets out choked cry, shuts his eyes tightly shut, and clamps his hands over his ears.
"Put it out! Put it out! Put it out!" he screams.
Kurogane turns and, since he's still wearing his shoes, stamps the flames out. Fai promptly curls up into a ball and begins to cry. Kurogane starts forward, and hesitates, unsure what to do. After a moment, Fai rises up to his knees, grabs the papers off floor and begins to ball them up and throw them at Kurogane.
"I hate you," he sobs, "I hate you!"
Kurogane puts his arms up over his face and winces as the paper balls bounce off of them. Fai is strong.
"It was just a small fire!" he protests, as Fai throws the last paper ball at his head.
He throws the tongs aside, drops to his knees, and grabs Fai by the wrists as the blonde reaches for the remotes. He does not want to have them thrown at him, nor does he want to have to replace them in the aftermath. Fai shrieks and swats at him, pummeling at Kurogane's chest with his fists.
"You could have gotten us killed!"
He pulls Fai close and forcefully embraces him, struggling to contain his flailing limbs and flying fists. The blonde struggles for a moment more, then goes limp, all but wailing into Kurogane's chest as he grabs fistfuls of Kurogane's shirt and presses close. The investigator keeps one arm around the man's waist, rubbing soothingly at Fai's back with the other.
"It's alright, it's alright," he soothes mindlessly, "It's gone now, it can't hurt you."
Fai gasps, body shaking as he fights to keep his sobbing under control. A moment later, he is silent, and before Kurogane can even register the change, he is writhing out of Kurogane's arms and standing. His eyes are still swollen and his cheeks are still streaked with tears but he raises his chin, laughs, and acts as if nothing has happened.
"Of course it can't hurt me," he says cheerfully, and his voice is still trembling, "Silly Kuro, what could a small flame like that do to anyone?"
He quickly bustles over to the smoldering paper, snatches the tongs from where Kurogane has flung them aside, and picks it up. Kurogane doesn't miss the little twitch backwards as Fai reaches for it before he presses forward and picks it up. Turning around to grin at Kurogane, Fai stands, walks briskly into the kitchen, and throws it into the sink along with the tongs. That done, he turns and places his hands on his waist, smiling despite the tears still shining on his face.
"Now," he announces, "What's for dinner?"
"We've already eaten dinner."
The ringing of his phone cuts the awkward, stinted conversation that was likely to have followed. Fai's relief is a palpable thing as he backs away.
"I have to go to the bathroom," he blurts, and then flees.
With a sigh, Kurogane digs out his phone and presses it to his ear.
"Hello?"
A pause.
"Kurogane-san?"
"Ah, Watanuki," he says briskly, "Is something the matter?"
"We've identified the body of the man who was shot this morning," Watanuki says, "I thought you might have liked to know his name."
He already knows the man's name, but he doesn't say anything regardless.
"Satoshi Watanabe," Watanuki says, "Twenty-five."
"Ah?"
"Is…. something the matter?"
Kurogane frowns.
"He introduced himself as Jim Smith this morning," he says.
"An alias?"
Kurogane shrugs, and then realized that Watanuki couldn't see him. Great, he was turning into Watanuki now. A rustle of paper draws him back to the conversation.
"Are you still in office?"
A pause.
"Yes?"
Kurogane sighs and seats himself on the couch.
"Look, kid," he sighs, "Hurry up and finish your work then go home."
"I was planning to sleep under my desk," Watanuki informs him sarcastically, and Kurogane snorts.
"Bye, Watanuki,"he says dryly, then hangs up.
Satoshi Watanabe? Why give a false name to a stranger? That "Jim Smith" had felt the need to do so was something to be wary of. And why had he been killed in the first place? Had the man already been on someone's blacklist, and Kurogane only a unfortunate passerby? Or had it something to do with Kurogane himself? If so, why? Why Kurogane of all people?
The doorbell sounds.
Suddenly wary, Kurogane peers out of the peephole, and is relieved to see that it is only Syaoran. He has no idea why, but it is definitely relief that he feels as he pulls the door open to see Syaoran's face, a little troubled, but otherwise comfortingly familiar. When the boy does nothing but fidget in the doorway, Kurogane frowns.
"Come in then," he says, moving aside.
"It's alright," Syaoran mumbles hesitantly.
"Kuro-mi," Fai calls as he comes out of the bedroom, composed once more, "Who's at the—oh… Syaoran?"
"Fai-san."
Fai blinks.
"Well, what are do doing standing there like a lost duckling?" he demands, "Come in!"
"It's quite alright," Syaoran insists, looking quite flustered. Making a quiet noise halfway between a snort and a sigh, Fai trots over and drags him in by the arm.
"Sit," he says, nudging Syaoran into a chair at the dining table, "I'll make you a drink. Hot chocolate?"
Without waiting for an answer, the blonde takes a mug out and begins to go about making a drink anyway.
"So what's up?" Kurogane asks, plopping down into the seat opposite his apprentice.
He waits out the reluctant silence that was not unexpected, but the answer he eventually gets is anything but.
"I'm quitting."
Kurogane blinks.
"What?" he blurts.
Across the kitchen island, Fai pauses in his motions, face still turned away.
"I just wanted to let you know," Syaoran says hastily, "And I also wanted to thank you for being a good teacher and a mentor to me during the times I got to work with you."
With that he stands, and bows so low that he must have been parallel to the floor.
"I'm sorry," he mumbles, and flees.
"Oh no, you don't," Kurogane growls, and swings him back into the chair, "Tell me what brought this about."
The boy simply shrugs, saying nothing. Kurogane hazards a guess.
"You're quitting because you've been hiding something about the case," it is not a question, "What have you been hiding?"
"Please excuse me," Syaoran says abruptly, making as if to stand again, "But I really must—"
"Sit down."
Throughout all their time working together, Syaoran has always been an obedient boy. That same obedience does not falter even now, in the face of Kurogane's harsh command. Wincing, Syaoran complies.
"What have you been hiding?" Kurogane repeats.
"Kuro-chiot is being veeeery nosy now, isn't he?" Fai tsks from behind him, finally turning around, mug cupped between his hands. With a fond smile aimed at Syaoran, he sets the hot chocolate down on the table, and then slips around the table to stand beside Kurogane. The smile slips slowly off, "Trouble comes to those who speak."
Their positions are disconcertingly reminiscent to a pair of concerned parents having a talk with a rebellious child.
"Is there something you know that you can't say?" Fai asks kindly, "You don't have to tell me what it is if you're not comfortable."
After a short moment, Syaoran nods slowly.
"Something that you can't say then?"
Syaoran nods again.
Looking thoughtful, Fai draws and chair and seats himself. A short moment later, he seemed to have reached a decision.
"Have you found another job yet?"
Syaoran shakes his head.
"No."
Sitting back in his chair, Fai watches Syaoran consideringly for a long moment as the boy sips at his hot chocolate.
"Why don't you work for me?"
Syaoran looks up at him, clearly surprised.
"Is that alright?"
Fai smiles, but his face is serious.
"It would make Sakura very happy," he says, "But I think the real concern is whether you're ready to take this job. It's a completely different line of work after all."
Syaoran considered the inside of his mug for a moment before looking up again.
"I'm ready," he says, the slightest hint of steel in his voice.
With a smile, Fai reaches over and squeezes his hand.
"Then be at work by eight tomorrow morning."
"Oi, oi, oi," Kurogane splutters, "Don't take advantage of my apprentice! Settle wages first!
Syaoran shakes his head.
"It's alright," he says seriously, "I know the people working at the cafe are always paid well."
Downing the rest of his drink, he stands.
"Some visitors came by the cafe. They know you're here," he tells Fai. To the both of them: "Be careful, Kurogane-san, Fai-san."
With one last bow, he headed for the door.
"Oi," Kurogane calls as the boy passes, and Syaoran pauses, still looking guilty, Kurogane sighs, and reaches out to pat the boy on the back, "Take care of Sakura. And when I stop by the cafe, you'd better buy me a drink."
For a moment, amber eyes stare at him in wide-eyed disbelief. And then a smile breaks across the boy's face.
"Hai, Kurogane-san!"
Flinging himself into another low bow, Syaoran thanks him, and then rushes off, still smiling.
As the door clicks shut behind him, Fai turns to him, lips curved and his soft, smiling eyes lit up from below by the flickering candle-flame.
"Thank you," he whispers, "For that."
With a start, Kurogane notes that Fai dimples when he smiles a smile as real as the one he is smiling now. It is the most genuine smile he has wrestled from the man yet, and the realization makes his stomach tighten in some unknown emotion. That smile draws him in like a siren's call. As if pulled in by an unseen force, he finds himself leaning forward. A flutter of pale lashes, then Fai leans in as well. For the briefest of moments, stretched out in Kurogane's mind till it seemed like an eternity, their noses brushed.
And then Souhi clatters clumsily through the window with a loud meow, oblivious and looking quite disgruntled at having to climb in like that. They spring apart almost guiltily, averting their gazes from one another. Kurogane can feel his cheeks beginning to burn, and from what he can see of Fai's profile, the blonde is doing no better.
"It's getting late," Fai says a little hastily, "We should go to bed."
Standing, he drops Syaoran's mug into the kitchen sink, and then flees into the bedroom. Kurogane sits alone at the table for a long moment. Sighing, he finally gets up, and sets about washing the mug in the sink. Souhi purrs and winds herself around his ankles, but he ignores her.
A/N: I'm dead... and also terribly sorry. You know there always comes a time when one begins to madly question their own writing skills? Yeah, that was me in the few months since my last update. I've basically been drawing lots in my fretful worrying. At one point I was like all hysterical "THEY ARE LAUGHING AT ME. THEY WILL READ MY WRITING, AND THEY WILL LAUGH AT ME" and coming very close to just deleting everything off the site. But then I thought of the X1999 fandom where I am now deeply and irrevocably embroiled, and decided that having writers delete their fics (I follow the links from fic recs) really pisses me off because its hard to find X fic as it is. So I drew. And drew. And drew. I kinda drew the whole holidays away and bugged everyone on dA with journal spam. School has started again now and I am reluctant to start on new drawings while I'm so busy. So I got back to writing.
A couple of days ago, I watched the Les Mis movie that just came out, and I cried myself dry. I loved it so much that I actually bought the soundtrack off iTunes even though I'm usually prone to acquire my albums through... less honest ways. Then I finally decided that THIS CANNOT GO ON. (This meaning my aforementioned embroilment in the X fandom.) I mean, I knew I wanted to draw some CLAMP/Les Mis crossover pic. I wanted to draw Kotori as Cosette, but then who the hell would everyone else be? I mean, the closest thing she would have to a Marius would be Kamui, but I decidedly ship Kamui with Fuuma (not Keiichi, not Subaru) and need to include him in one way or another. Then who the hell would Fuuma be? In the end I drew the TRC cast instead, with Sakura as Cosette, Syaoran as Marius, Fai as Jean Valjean, and Kurogane as Javert. Fitting, I am inclined to think. It's still a sketch that has yet to be posted on my dA (where you can find me by the name of pseudo-brush), but that sketch kinda inspired me to start writing.
Because I was like RIGHT, TRC. TIME TO START FINISHING THOSE FICS. And that sketch kinda might have inspired Kurogane's pursuit of that... cough... mystery sniper (Sorry, very unsubtle description of him here. Sure everyone knows who he is by now. Oh wait, he didn't have gold eyes in TRC... WELL I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT HE ACTUALLY DOES HAVE GOLD EYES OKAY. TRC IS INACCURATE ON THAT ACCOUNT.) Because... in the sketch they were standing in an alleyway. Watching Les Mis has inspired in me a newfound love for old winding alleys between and around buildings. And yes. Kurogane is really fit for a modern day cop. That assassin in every life must be immaculate, or so is my biased opinion since he's like my third love after Fai and Subaru. He sort of ties with Kurogane for that position.
Okay, will stop rambling now. Please do review and shit. Till next time! (Hopefully it will come a lot more quickly than this chapter...)
