For once Saguru was caught up on all his work. There were no tests to grade, all assignments were returned, his lesson plans were finalized for the next week and a half, and he'd already read through the novel for the literature club. He hadn't thought it would be possible to really and truly have nothing to do, not even any chores since he kept things neat out of habit. He was at a bit of a loss.

Mum would tell him to go do something. Make plans. Meet a friend. Saguru had hardly been sociable since returning to Japan, certainly not enough to be close enough to anyone to make last minute plans even if he'd been inclined to do so. With Kuroba, maybe, if he thought it would be welcome. Honestly, Kuroba was more likely to be the one making a spontaneous plan. But Kuroba was working his late night at the museum.

There was the possibility of calling Mum, but no, she had mentioned a day out with Otou-san visiting some old friends.

Saguru stared blankly at his wall. What did one do when they had free time and weren't currently crushed under the weight of depression?

Well, Mum complained that he had stopped taking initiative. She was right, irritatingly enough. A year ago, finding himself with nothing to do wouldn't have felt like a problem. A brochure sat on Saguru's desk, left over by Kuroba during a chat over tea. It had the current museum exhibit printed on it along with the hours. He picked it up on impulse, and yes, there was still several hours until closing.

He shook his head, an idea taking root. He had to admit he was curious about Kuroba's work environment. And he hadn't been to that particular museum in years. He might as well visit. How was that for initiative?

*o*o*

The museum was a good deal further away from Saguru's apartment building than the school, though not, Saguru noted, any further than it would be from Kuroba's childhood home or from Aoko's apartment building. This wouldn't have been too much of a problem except for the fact that after a full day of teaching, Saguru had run through most of his leg's endurance. He took the last stretch up to the building slowly, resting at one of the benches outside.

There were indications of Kid's effect visible even from the front bench; numerous cameras covered a wide number of angles, thin wires along the doorframes and running along edges of the glass, barely visible, for the alarms, and the windows had the slight variance of transparency that came from reinforcement. It wouldn't surprise him if at least the entry way was bulletproof. Saguru could only imagine how much these renovations had cost over the years. Granted, Kid's presence acted as a draw more than a deterrent. Despite the costly changes, the museum was probably doing better than it had been before Kid had made a habit of stealing from it.

Rested, Saguru headed in the building and paid the entry fee. "I don't suppose," he asked the woman working at the desk, "you would know if Kuroba Kaito is available today? He works as a conservator."

"Kuroba-san?" The woman glanced at something outside of Saguru's sight. "I can check, if you wouldn't mind giving a name?"

"Hakuba Saguru," Saguru said. "A friend. He mentioned the new ceramics exhibit a week or so ago, and I finally found the time to stop by to see it."

She gave him a polite smile and turned away to use an office phone. Saguru let his attention wander about the lobby as she dialed. There was a gift shop across from the desk. He smiled, amused to see a small section of the shop dedicated to Kid merchandise with a sign proclaiming it to be the only merchandise Kid approved. Since any money it brought in would go straight to caring for the museum and its contents, it wouldn't surprise him if Kid really had approved it. He made a mental note to stop in and get a closer look. Saguru wondered what sort of expression Kuroba would make if he found a Kid caricature shaped charm hanging from Saguru's window.

He was pulled from his contemplation by Kuroba's voice saying, "You could have called my cell phone."

"I could have," Saguru conceded, "but it was more of a surprise this way."

Kuroba snorted, a relaxed smile on his face. "My neighbor," Kuroba said for the benefit of the receptionist. She smiled now that Kuroba proved that he clearly both knew and was friendly with Saguru. Kuroba had his sleeves rolled up, no sign of the cuts from over a month ago on his forearms, but plenty of smudges from dust and dirt. "Good timing, I needed a break. I've been bent over the same bit of pottery for hours." His back cracked audibly as he stretched.

"That can't be healthy."

Kuroba shrugged. "When you're focused, you're focused, it's when you come out of it that it's regretful." He sent Saguru a sidelong grin. "Besides, like you're one to talk."

"I might be a workaholic, but I do comprehend the benefit of taking regular breaks."

He got a laugh in response, which he'd hoped for. "C'mon," Kuroba said. "I'll show you around."

They headed off down a staff hallway, cheerfully ignoring the sign asking unauthorized individuals to keep out.

"Felt an itch to appreciate the arts?" Kuroba asked. He nodded in passing to a security staff member. The man didn't give Saguru a second glance.

"Something like that."

"Oh, so you just wanted to snoop on my work life," Kuroba teased.

"I'll admit to curiosity."

"Good to see your need to dig into every little detail isn't completely dead. It just wouldn't be the same if you weren't poking your nose into my life like some kind of stalker," Kuroba quipped.

Saguru rolled his eyes. "If either of us qualified as a stalker, it would not be me."

"High school says otherwise," Kuroba said, but he was still smiling, clearly enjoying the back and forth.

Kuroba's good mood was infectious. Saguru found himself smiling as Kuroba opened a set of doors, beckoning him in with a flourish.

"And this is where the magic happens. By magic, I mean hours of painstaking, tedious work to make things pretty and long lasting for the public."

Inside was a large room with desks along the walls and tables and work stations set up around the room. On the tables were pieces being restored, presumably ones that didn't require specific climate controls because there were other smaller rooms behind closed doors with other projects. A man was using one of them, bent over what appeared to be some sort of book.

Saguru made out Kuroba's station by the shards of pottery sitting on it. The pot in question was partially pieced together, one shard at a time.

"Technically you're not supposed to be back here," Kuroba said, "but no one really cares so long as you're not touching anything."

"And this one's not a kid," a woman said from one of the desks. She had short hair tied back messily and there was what appeared to be a domestic cat skull being used as a paperweight next to her elbow. "A friend?" she asked.

"And neighbor," Kuroba said. "Hakuba, this is Tomoeda Miyuri. Miyu-san, Hakuba Saguru. Miyu-san deals with organics." He nodded at a workstation with an ivory and wood piece. "If it's dead, she deals with it."

"You make it sound like I'm dealing in corpses, not leather, wood and bone," Tomoeda said.

"You're the one responsible for the couple of taxidermy things around here. And you collect bones for a hobby. If anything, I'm putting it nicely."

She laughed, leaving her papers sit for the moment. "Better bones than dealing with your pottery puzzles."

"To each their own," Kuroba said. "You two could probably go on about decomposition rates," he said aside to Saguru.

"Oh, dead things are your hobby too?" Tomoeda asked.

Saguru could almost laugh at that. Someone in forensics probably would have laughed at that sort of question. "Not as such, no. I used to be a detective. Forensic knowledge was valuable back then, though I suppose I enjoyed the chemistry end of things more than interaction with the site itself."

"Ooh, you and I need to have a talk sometime." Tomoeda grinned. "Off the clock though. I could probably fill half the work day talking about stages of decay."

"Another time then," Saguru said. It had been a while since he'd had a discussion on the subject and he wouldn't mind a chance to do so. She smiled and returned to her work as they passed her. On Tomoeda's desk was a photograph of a child holding what looked like one of Kuroba's trained doves. "The coworker who you performed at a birthday party for?" Saguru asked quietly.

Kuroba pulled out a chair from his desk, before pulling a stool around from his work table for him to sit on. "You remember that? Yeah. I've done birthday parties for a couple people, but I've done shows for Miyu-san a couple times."

Saguru took the chair while Kuroba took the stool. Saguru found himself looking for signs of discomfort as Kuroba wove one leg into the legs of the stool, perching casually. His good leg, not his bad ankle, but there was no flicker of pain on Kuroba's face in his slouch.

"Stop," Kuroba said. "Is that why you're here? To check up on me?"

"Not at all. I had free time and wanted to see the ceramics exhibit." Checking on Kuroba's health was a secondary benefit of it all, not that Saguru expected Kuroba to be obvious if he was hurting. It was almost subconscious to look for signs of strain.

"That better be it. I'm not constantly nagging you so don't even start with me." Kuroba gave Saguru's bad knee a pointed look. Saguru realized he'd been rubbing it to chase away the ache.

"I'll keep worries of your health to myself unless it looks like you're pushing too far."

"Good. I'll do the same." Kuroba's good humor was back as if it hadn't left at all. He waved at his work space. "So. What do you think?"

The clutter on the desk was organized clutter, not true clutter at all. There were photographs and sketches, predicted concepts of finished pieces and careful detailing of patterns paper-clipped together. Saguru recognized a book he had seen on Kuroba's bookshelf before. Where the desk was full of papers and books, the work table was clear of everything but the essentials needed for the task. "It's very you," Saguru said.

"I'm going to take that as a compliment," Kuroba said drily. "Anyway, lately I've been working in ceramics. I specialized more in metal and stone work," which Saguru found unsurprising considering Kuroba dealt with gemstones almost exclusively in his night life, "but I helped Kurata-san a few times a couple years back with ceramics and he ended up teaching me a lot before he retired. What he didn't, I've researched, so I ended up taking on a lot of the projects he used to do since then."

"You must have learned a lot if you had such a large hand in the new exhibit."

"I did." Kuroba smiled. "So, have you seen it yet?"

"Not yet. That's next on the agenda."

"You'll have to tell me what you think." Kuroba stretched and hopped to his feet—Saguru couldn't tell if it was a pointed show of his health or not by this point. "I'd walk you around but I've pretty much used up my break time."

"Thank you for spending it with me then," Saguru said, standing as well.

"I told you I needed the break." Kuroba grinned as he walked them back toward the door and the public museum space beyond. "Besides, it's kind of nice. Been a while since I got to take anyone back here."

Tomoeda waved as they passed and Saguru waved back. Perhaps he would get a chance someday to actually have that conversation on decomposition another day. The possibility was something to look forward to, surprisingly since he hadn't had much social interaction lately he'd wanted to have. Yet another moment of the positive effects Kuroba was having on his life he supposed.

Kuroba kept a light bounce in his step the whole walk back to the public sector of the museum, but when Saguru went to leave, Kuroba stopped him with a touch to his arm.

"Hey. Thanks for visiting." His smile was still the same cheerful one he'd had in front of Tomoeda, but there was deeper weight in his voice. Understanding that coming, doing something besides his pattern at all, had been out of Saguru's comfort zone.

"I hope I'll have the chance to visit again. Perhaps with more warning next time."

"I'd like that."

Kuroba's hand fell away.

It was a successful trip already just for confirming that Kuroba was healing up and seeing a glimpse of what Kuroba's life was like now. It wasn't the sort of environment Saguru would have expected Kuroba to work in. There was no audience and Kuroba had always liked to be the center of a crowd. At the same time, the level of detail and focus was appropriate, specialized knowledge being Kuroba's forte along with his steady hands.

Saguru wandered into the special exhibit hall. How many of the pieces in it had Kuroba worked on? He went from ceramic piece to ceramic piece, picturing Kuroba painstakingly cleaning and repairing cracks and restoring them to their former elegance.

He was so caught up in the thought that he almost ran into someone lingering over an urn. "Excuse me," he said.

"Saguru-san?" said the man. Saguru blinked and tried to place the face. The glasses weren't familiar, but the high cheekbones and narrow face…

"Nakahara… Hiroto, was it?" The man didn't look much like he had back at the bar when he'd given Saguru his number. Taking away the suit and adding glasses left an entirely different impression than the out of place businessman Saguru had first met.

Nakahara smiled. "Wow, what are the chances of running into you here? Do you come here often? I haven't seen you here before."

"I haven't been here in years. A friend did restoration work on this exhibit thought, so I wanted to see it."

"Really? That's pretty cool." Nakahara looked around the room and back. "I wonder which was the most interesting to work on." His eyes glanced down to Saguru's cane and there was a flicker of surprise, there and gone, on his face. Apparently he hadn't noticed it their first meeting.

And that, Saguru thought, would probably be the end of whatever attraction Nakahara had toward him. It wouldn't be the first time. But the small talk continued as they worked their way through the exhibit and Nakahara didn't seem to look at Saguru's cane again, and it wasn't in the uncomfortable avoidant way people sometimes had either. More like it had been noted, accepted and dismissed in short order.

They stopped in front of a pot that had a lattice of bronze work caging it. It was elegant and delicate to look at, but all Saguru could see was the hours of work that had to have gone into getting dust and dirt out of each and every bronze swirl and where the bronze met glazed porcelain.

"You don't see many mixed mediums like that," Nakahara said. He'd pointed out details like gold filigree and silver inlays on other pieces, but this was the only one with bronze worked around and in it. "It looks really nice. Your friend must have worked really hard on it."

Saguru nodded. What would Kuroba have said about it if he'd had the time to show him the gallery? It was a pity he hadn't. Saguru turned to the next piece; they were almost at the end.

Nakahara hesitated, not moving on from the pot they were looking at. Saguru stopped, waiting. "You know, I didn't actually expect to ever run into you again," Nakahara said. "Tokyo is huge."

"Neither did I," Saguru said. He waited a bit longer, but whatever Nakahara was mulling over, he didn't say it. "Are you regretting giving me your business card?" Saguru asked.

"What?" Nakahara blinked at him. "No, no, I meant it when I gave you my card and still do. It's just…you never called so it's a little awkward I guess. I've never had to see anyone after they've rejected me before. I'm not really sure how to act."

"Nakahara-san…" Saguru didn't know how to act either, more from being out of practice socializing with new people more than anything though.

"No, no, it's fine." Nakahara waved a hand. "I probably shouldn't have brought it up."

"That's not it." Saguru shook his head.

"Oh, wait, is this the 'it's not you, it's me' speech?"

Saguru almost laughed, lips quirking up in a smile while Nakahara looked far too serious. "Well, it is in a way I suppose. It isn't you; I'm not interested in dating anyone at the moment. I'm not ready yet."

"Oh." Nakahara looked away before looking back and squaring his shoulders. "Do you think you ever will be?"

"Are you attempting to ask me out again?" It was flattering, but… "I don't know. I suppose I'll know when I'm ready." But would he? A corner of his mind that sounded a lot like Mum pointed out that it had taken an intervention to convince him he needed to leave London. She'd been right even though he hadn't been sure if he was ready to leave at the time. Saguru had reached a point in his life where he couldn't always trust his judgment or perception of himself.

"If you're not ready, you're not ready," Nakahara was saying, pulling Saguru out of his thoughts, "but if you're interested, I'd like to get to know you better even if it's just as friends. Unless you'd rather not?"

Nakahara was someone unrelated to work and unrelated to Saguru's past in any way. He'd come to Japan looking for a life that wouldn't remind him of Mel so… Friendship would be alright. Safer. Saguru wondered when he'd started taking the safer, less troubling paths in life. Had it started when he gave up after Mel's death? Or had it started before then, sometime when he was content and hadn't had to charge toward his dreams anymore because he'd already reached as much as he wanted to?

"As friends," he heard himself say distantly.

At one point in his life, living in Japan hadn't been an escape, but a challenge. Not just because of Kid, but because it had put him outside his comfort zone in a country that, because of his mixed heritage, would never fully accept him. A much younger Saguru had enjoyed testing his comfort levels and pushing past them. A less young Saguru had gone into teaching, not with confidence as he would have tackling a research or police related job, but with the uncertainty of whether he'd be good in it alongside a determination to do his best for the next generation.

So far, how had Saguru pushed himself here? Befriending Kuroba? A single trip out with coworkers? He wasn't sure when or if he'd be ready to date again, but he was sure he'd never know unless he tried. It wasn't strange to go on dates just to test compatibility. And if Nakahara was intent on exploring his newly realized sexuality, Saguru could test his comfort levels. It didn't have to go any deeper or further than Saguru wanted to, and Nakahara had already offered friendship as well.

He gave Nakahara a once over, this time looking not with subconscious detective habits, but as a potential suitor. Nakahara was on the plain side, but he had a nice smile, kept in good shape considering he worked in an office, and had surprisingly elegant, long fingered hands. At first glance he seemed timid, but that was contradicted by how he continually attempted to make the first move. Perhaps not timidity so much as difficulty adjusting to a new format of interaction. The directness of admitting what interested him and pursuing it could be attractive as well. Saguru felt a spark of interest. It was almost a relief to know he could still feel that sort of thing if he let himself try to.

"Actually, perhaps I would like to go on a date."

"Eh?" Nakahara looked confused and concerned. "Are you sure? I meant it. I really just want to get to know you better regardless of—"

"I'm not sure," Saguru admitted, "but I realized that I won't know until I try."

"Oh, um." A blush rose on Nakahara's face. "Then…something informal. Not…not quite a date, but not…not a date either? Semi-date? Quasi date? I really don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"A date," Saguru said more firmly. One part of him was already regretting agreeing to this, but the other part, a part Saguru hadn't been in touch with much lately, was relishing the adrenaline from making a spur of the moment decision. It seemed today was full of spontaneity.

"A date then." Nakahara fished his cell phone out of his pocket. "Exchange numbers?" he asked hopefully.

Saguru gave his number and a few moments later his cell phone buzzed with an incoming text. Nakahara's name was accompanied by a cheerful smiling emoticon. He extracted the number and saved it.

"Thanks!" Nakahara said. "Should I call you or you call me or—ah, wait, I don't even know what sort of schedule you keep or what you do!"

"I'm a high school teacher," Saguru said, mildly amused. "I'm free most evenings and nights provided I have enough warning in advance to get my work out of the way."

"I'll call you." Nakahara leaned forward then back.

Saguru didn't know what to add to that either. They looked at each other for a moment before Nakahara laughed in a nervous rush.

"Okay. Okay, thank you." He glanced at his cell phone. "I…I should probably get going now; didn't plan to spend quite so long at the museum and I'm actually working this night for overseas conference calls… Um. But I'm glad I got to talk to you and I'll call you."

"Same," Saguru said. There was another hesitant pause where Nakahara looked torn between possibly reaching out and just leaving before things became more awkward, but in the end he waved and sent a smile over his shoulder.

Saguru watched him go before finishing up the last of the exhibit, carefully not thinking about what had just happened. He knew he'd think about it enough later when he was trying to sleep anyway.

On the way out, he ducked into the gift shop to look at the Kid memorabilia. After looking at posters and postcards and mugs and pillows and plushies, Saguru picked a keychain of Kid's signature. He'd see how long it took Kuroba to notice it.

He almost made it back to the apartment before he couldn't ignore what had happened anymore. Saguru spent the rest of the walk back wondering if agreeing to a date was really the end of the world it felt like.

*o*o*

Afternoon sunlight filtered in through the teacher's room window, but Saguru barely noticed it, his pen tapping against papers that he was nominally grading. Nominally, because he hadn't managed to get through even a quarter of the stack in front of him before he was distracted again.

The distraction came in the form of a text message, read and replied to on his cell phone. Said phone was in his pocket as it should be, but he had had the urge to pull it out over a dozen times in the last few days to assure himself that yes, he truly had agreed to go on a date this Saturday evening. He turned his attention back to the assignment he was grading and found he'd left smudges of ink in the top corner. Drat. Perhaps he could cover it up when he wrote out the final score…?

He jumped, almost leaving a lot more than a few tap marks on the paper, when a hand touched his shoulder. "Ah. Yes?" There was no disguising the flinch. Takata—of course it was her—looked torn between humor and concern.

"You okay? I said your name three times."

"I'm fine. Merely…distracted."

"I can tell. Usually you're working away." She offered him a smile. "I was just asking how you feel working here is going so far since we're almost halfway through this semester."

"It's been fine," Saguru said. "It was a bit rough at the start, but everything has settled in and classes are going smoothly and students are behaving. I haven't had to give out extra work or call a parent in almost two weeks."

"That's good."

Saguru nodded. It was good that things had settled down into a routine. Now more learning was actually happening in class times.

"So, if things are going well, what has you all head in the clouds?" Takata asked. "If there's something you're having trouble with I'll help if I'm able."

"Thank you," Saguru said, "but it's not that sort of distracted."

"If you say so," she said, backing off. "That's a standing offer though!" She tossed a smile over her shoulder and returned back to her desk.

"Ah, same to you..." Right. He sighed. It was a standing offer with her, and apparently with Kuroba now if the looks he'd gotten the last two days meant anything. He did appreciate it, just… If he talked about it, he'd probably talk about a lot more than he intended to and he did not want to go down that route right now with anyone, especially not a coworker.

At least Takata and Kuroba respected him desire not to go into it.

Then there was Mum, who called five times in three days after Saguru's weekend phone call. He'd thought he had done a good job pretending that everything was normal. Mum still had ears of a bat and a detective-like sixth sense when it came to Saguru not telling the whole story. She'd get it out of him eventually, but Saguru was holding out until after the upcoming date was over.

Two days. She could wait two days. And Saguru would live through the next two days no matter what his nerves were telling him. He rubbed his knee absently. The amount of papers to grade wasn't getting any smaller.

*o*o*

"Saguru, if you don't tell me what's going on, I'm coming over and packing you up in the car and you're staying with us for a few days," Mum said over the phone.

"I promise it isn't anything bad, Mum, I just don't feel like talking about it at the moment." Saguru stabbed the vegetables he was cutting up a bit harder than necessary. Really, everyone else stressing about his stress was only making him stress more.

"If you're having another depressive episode—"

"Did I not just state that it is not anything bad?" And now he felt guilty as well as stressed. Wonderful. Vegetables clanged into the bottom of a pot, sizzling among onions and garlic. "Give me a few days and I promise I'll talk with you about it."

"If you kept your word about talking, I wouldn't have to pester you like this at all, Saguru," Mum sighed.

"Can you just trust me that this isn't something to worry about?"

"Fine." Mum clicked her tongue, and Saguru started cubing chicken thighs to add to the mix. "You know I don't like to be a nag."

"I'm aware." Being watched like a hawk was a recent thing. He didn't blame her for it. That didn't make it any less irritating. "Can we talk about something other than my life for once perhaps?"

That got him another sigh and a short summary of her and his father's week, and what they planned to do with their weekend, which led to prodding about what Saguru was going to do with his weekend, which made him want to toss his phone. Mum wasn't being subtle.

Saguru finished his phone call to find his dinner starting to burn. He swore.

"Fighting with your mother, Hakuba? For shame."

Kuroba Kaito was sitting in his windowsill casual as you please. Saguru almost—almost—threw the knife at him as he flinched.

"Jesus Christ, Kuroba."

"You look like you're having a bad day."

"Can we just—not now? Please?" Saguru removed his dinner from the burner and set down the knife before there were any unfortunate mishaps. "And from my window? Really?" It was still daylight out. And Kuroba almost always used the door if Saguru was in his apartment.

"You didn't hear me knock."

"You didn't pick the lock?"

Kuroba shrugged. "Okay, and I felt like using a window today." He held up a bag of something that had a bakery label and wiggled it. "Peace offering?"

Saguru glanced at his half charred dinner. It wasn't a complete wash since he was making a stew, but…. He dumped in the chicken broth and stirred before setting it back on the burner. It could cook down as it was, and any burnt bits on the bottom could stay there until he had to pry them off the bottom of the pan when he washed it.

"Please," Saguru said, like a surrender.

Kuroba made himself at home, swinging out of the window to pull two plates from Saguru's cupboard. He was in sock feet, probably having crossed the distance between their windows shoeless. Saguru let himself be nudged to the side so Kuroba could fill glasses of water, and be led to take a seat at his table.

"I picked these up because I was having one of those days where I needed it, but it kind of sounded like you need it too," Kuroba said, pulling out two flaky croissants. "And I'm not going to pry because that would only make it worse, right?"

"Thank you."

Kuroba hummed. He nudged Saguru with an elbow when he only stared at his croissant on a plate. "It has chocolate. Chocolate makes everything better."

Saguru surprised himself with a laugh. "You would be one of those people."

"Eat." To make a point, he tore off a chunk of pastry and bit into it. "It's good."

It was good. Saguru nibbled at a corner. "You said you are having a bad day as well?"

"Mmrg." Kuroba swallowed his bite. "Yeah. Let's see… Had a setback on one of the projects at work, got into a fight with Aoko because I showed up at her house to return something Takumi forgot here, got yelled at by her dad who happened to be visiting because Aoko was yelling at me, and found out my mom's planning a trip overseas again even though she knows I have another heist coming up and might need her help." Kuroba sighed. "Okay, so Kaa-san having a trip isn't really that big of a deal, but it still makes things more complicated and means I have to have twice the contingency plans."

Saguru took that in. The knowledge that Kuroba Chikage was involved in Kuroba's Kid activities was filed away to be examined at a later date. "Do you argue with Aoko every time you happen to visit her home instead of her coming here?"

"Honestly, we argue if we're face to face more than a few minutes most of the time. But she doesn't like me showing up at her home because it's the place we bought together."

"Too many memories?" Saguru asked softly.

"I guess." Kuroba shrugged and tore off more croissant. "It is how it is though, and I kind of knew it would happen when I took Takumi's stuff back, but I wasn't expecting Nakamori and that was awkward. I don't think he's ever going to forgive me." Kuroba shrugged again. "But enough depressing stuff. We have chocolate, so life isn't all bad."

He wasn't playing with his hands or whatever objects were in reach, so Saguru knew that however optimistic his words were, he wasn't really feeling them. Still, trying was the first step to making things better, and Saguru was already feeling a bit better for the distraction. "You're right," Saguru said. The next bite of croissant had bitter sweet chocolate melting across his tongue, just bitter enough to fit his preferences. "Thank you for sharing it."

"Well I could have hoarded it," Kuroba said with a shadow of his usual grin, "but sometimes things are better shared."

*o*o*

Saguru was dressed like he would any other day of the week in a button down and slacks. He'd been told to dress casually for his date, and for him, this was about as casual as he got when going out in public. They were meeting up at a park at seven, so naturally Saguru found himself there at six forty-five on the dot. Nakahara Hiroto wasn't there yet, but Saguru had the dozen text messages that he'd received in the last day and a half to scroll through and analyze as he waited. Not that he thought he'd gain much from a blurry picture of a large dog, three comments about Nakahara's workload, and a handful of random musings than he'd already gathered. Nakahara seemed to be a bit scattered in his attention and overly prone to emoticons and exclamation points. He liked animals and loathed early mornings. He was a coffee addict, was a people watcher, and an only child. He seemed to get attached to people too quickly if the easy friendliness of his texts were anything to go by.

Saguru looked up at six fifty-two to see Nakahara waving as he approached Saguru's park bench. He had glasses again, a nice t-shirt, and long shorts that looked comfortable in the seasonal heat and humidity. He smiled like seeing Saguru waiting for him was like the sun coming out from the clouds to brighten his day.

Saguru's palms sweated as he put his phone away, but the smile calmed that nervous part of him that had been second guessing since the moment he'd decided a date wasn't going to kill him.

"You're here," Nakahara said, nervous and pleased.

"I'm here."

All the nerves from the last week swirled through him, then drained out as Nakahara started laughing. Saguru found himself laughing too.

"You look about as nervous as I am," Nakahara said after a moment, gaining control again. "I'm glad I'm not the only one."

"It's been a while since I've had a first date." Try over a decade.

"Date, friend-date, it's only as much as you're comfortable with." Nakahara smiled and offered a hand. Saguru took it. Nakahara had cool hands, but the touch was a reminder of how little he had touched anyone lately. There was Mum, Otou-san, and Kuroba, Kuroba only fleetingly at that. It was a good sort of connection.

"Date," Saguru said because he'd decided it would be one.

Nakahara's smile widened. "Date. Let's get dinner." He kept hold of Saguru's hand and for the moment Saguru let him.

*o*o*

Saguru still felt ridiculously like a teenager again hours later as he settled into bed, but this time in a good way. The date had felt a little like being that age again, going to eat at a family restaurant and spending time getting to know each other better. True to his word, Nakahara—or Hiroto as he had insisted on being called—had kept in casual and friendly, careful not to press Saguru's comfort levels. They'd held hands a few times, Hiroto walked Saguru most of the way home, and the most overtly romantic thing to have happened was a parting kiss. It had all been so innocent and gentle, and reminded him of some of his earliest attempts at dating without the added layer of adolescent awkwardness.

It wasn't quite eleven yet, but Saguru curled under his sheet anyway, listening to the sound of a television from Kuroba's apartment and the drone of a fan as his other neighbor took advantage of the cooler nighttime hours. If Kuroba hadn't had Takumi over, Saguru might have considered going to him to try and sort out the emotions. He was moderately sure that Kuroba wouldn't laugh at him for getting flustered by such a calm date.

It had been nice talking, though. The kiss had been nice too, and hand holding and casual brushes of contact; he missed intimacy and these fleeting moments had brought both relief and longing for the past that couldn't be returned to.

Kuroba probably understood that feeling even though he'd lost his relationship to divorce not death.

For all the anxiety he had had prior to the date, it had been worth it. His palms smoothed down across his arms, half-hugged against his body subconsciously. His skin felt too sensitive, supercharged from an evening of close proximity that he wanted more of. Whether Hiroto was someone he could fall for or just someone he could be comfortable enough with to fill some of that desire, he wasn't sure yet. But he was feeling a desire for intimacy where he hadn't for ages.

A step forward, a step for the better. He knew more than enough psychology to recognize progress when he felt it. He rubbed his arms again just for the sensation of skin on skin. In Kuroba's apartment, the television shut off. Kuroba and Takumi's soft voices hummed just out of range before they fell silent too. Saguru's phone lit up; an incoming text.

The words 'Good night!' glowed up at him from the screen. Hiroto's number. Saguru smiled at it for a moment before sending his own message back and setting the phone aside. It was a good night.