Notes:

So, two things: one, I'm super sorry I updated late. I haven't been feeling very well as of late and on top of that my homework that made me ever tardier than usual.

And two— I have nothing to say about this chapter other than please enjoy it, and if anybody wants to find me I'll be hiding under the cushions blushing a billions shades of red.

Thank you for taking the time to read the story!

Disclaimer: I do not own Free!. Any similarities in events or characters living or dead are entirely coincidental.

Enjoy!

When he returned home at 5 am, Haru hadn't bothered sleeping. Instead, he made a beeline for the shower, peeling out of his grimy shirt and trousers as he went. A hot soak had barely eased the exhaustion and tightness of his shoulders before he picked out a new shirt, clean pants, and stuffed all his things back into his pockets. A quick breakfast consisted of bread that stuck to his throat as he swallowed and a mug of tea that ended up untouched as he sat at the kitchen table, hand propping his head up, his exhausted brain still working on overdrive.

He needed to solve this case before things got worse.

When a loud knock sounded on his door, Haru startled for a moment, hand reflexively reaching towards the gun holster lying on the tabletop before he got up and answered the door.

Makoto was standing outside, looking as tired as Haru felt.

"Good morning," the brunet said, scratching the back of his neck. Haru stared.

"What are you doing here?"

"Ah, well, seeing that your car's at the garage after yesterday, I thought you might like a lift to work," Makoto said softly, shuffling his feet a little. It took a moment for Haru to gather his thoughts, and once he realized what Makoto was saying, his heart stuttered a bit like a stupid teenager with a crush.

"That's… nice of you, thanks. Uh, I'll get my things."

Makoto tilted his head and did his wife smile again. "No problem," he said, and they fell into peaceful silence after that.

Silence that was, of course, broken the minute they entered the office.

"Haru-chan, Mako-chan, something terrible has happened!" Nagisa shrieked, and then stared. "Wait, why did you two come in at the same time? Oh my god! Is there something you're not telling me?!"

"Priorities, Nagisa," Haru groaned, setting his bag down. "What was that about awful news again?"

"Oh, yeah, that. Well, this morning Ama-chan dropped by to tell me that somebody broke into the scene of the crime by the Iwatobi Courthouse late last night!"

"Broke in? How?"

"The forensics team that went in this morning found some of the evidence contaminated," Nagisa explained. "They're not certain if anything's stolen yet."

"Alright, grab your car keys, Makoto, we're going out," Haru muttered, brushing past the PI. "Nagisa, you're coming with us too."

"Oh, hey, did you two carpool this morning? Aw, Mako-chan, you're such a sweetheart, picking Haru-chan up when he doesn't have a car!"

"Well, he's always the one driving," Makoto said sheepishly as they hurried back downstairs to the parking lot.

Nagisa grinned and loped an arm through the brunet's and then forcefully dragged Haru over as well. There was something rather mischievous about the blond's grin, and Haru decided he'd rather not know what was going through his assistant's mind.

When they arrived, the forensics team quickly confirmed the break-ins.

"Security's checked the cameras," the squad leader said, tugging at his rubber gloves. "We've got nothing so far though."

"Is anything missing?" Haru asked as Nagisa scribbled away in his notebook.

"Nothing. They messed up some of the roped-off areas, but it's not unsalvageable."

"Have you got a time stamp?" Makoto asked.

"We're looking at roughly 2:30 am," the scientist replied. "The building security told us there was a shift change at 2:00, and the guard who left came this way. He didn't notice anything at the time."

"2:30 am," Haru said quietly as the scientist left. "That's fits in with the time frame of the murder yesterday night."

"And the courthouse is only three blocks away from 4th and Parkway," Makoto added. "The Pirate would've had plenty of time to get here."

"Check the area," Haru sighed, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his coat. "Keep your eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary."

That sent the three of them off into different directions, searching high and low of the parking lot, the hallways, stairwells, and even the exits at the side of the building, but those were only accessible by staff members with certain keycards. Almost out of ideas, they reconvened to search the alleyway, and that was when luck began to favour the officers at last.

There was a stooped figure in a dark jacket and washed-out jeans was poking around several discarded boxes in the back street, muttering to himself.

"Hold on," Haru said quietly, throwing an arm out to stop Makoto. Nagisa nearly ran into the PI as he came to a sudden halt. "There's somebody there."

"Who is it?" Nagisa hissed.

The brunet stood up on tiptoe and leaned out to get a better look; his chin nearly bumped into Haru's head.

"That can't be the Pirate," Makoto whispered. "That's too obvious."

"He could still be involved in breaking into the crime scene."

Makoto frowned. "Fair enough," he amended, just as Nagisa managed to worm his way between the two and poke his head around the wall.

"Just who're you staring at?"

"Shhh," Haru grumbled. "That guy, over there. He might be a possible suspect."

"What guy…? Oh. Oh," Nagisa said suddenly, perking up. "Nah, he's not a suspect."

"What? How do you know—" Makoto started to say, but before either of them could stop the blond Nagisa had suddenly bolted forwards, latching onto the back of the figure's jacket like a tiger pouncing on its prey. The guy let out a rather unmanly shriek and clawed in surprise at the air.

"Leggo 'o me, what's your problem man—"

"I think I'm the one who should be asking you that question," Nagisa said with a rather dangerous smile on his face as he clung on stubbornly. The guy stopped flailing at once and stiffened, like somebody had dumped ice down his back.

"N-Nagisa-san?" he stammered, slowly turning around to face the blond, only to yelp as Nagisa cuffed him on the side of the head.

"I told you not to use my real name!"

"But—"

"Code names! I'm incognito!"

"While wearing that bright pink monstrosity of a sweater?" Haru deadpanned, ducking out from his hiding spot. There was no point in being discreet anyway, seeing that his assistant had basically jumped a guy. Nagisa shot the detective a withering look as Makoto failed to choke back a laugh.

"W-who're they?" the guy asked, eyes darting nervously between Haru and Makoto, both whom towered over him.

"My associates," Nagisa said smoothly. "Nobody you need to care about. Tell us what you're doing here."

"Just— just hanging, y'know? Nothing bad, I swear!"

"You do realize this area is a crime scene?" Haru asked, crossing his arms.

"I swear I got nuthin' to do with anythin' here!"

"You're lying," Nagisa said at once. "You know what happens when you lie to me, Furusawa."

"No! I'm not, Nag— Big Penguin! Really!"

"What," Haru said at the same time Makoto asked, "Uh, did he just call you a penguin, Nagisa?"

"It's my code name!" Nagisa said defensively.

"Why on earth do you need a code name?"

"This is Kunitaro Furusawa. He's one of my underground contacts; an inside man," Nagisa explained, planting a hand on his hips. "Don't tell me you don't have contacts, Haru-chan."

"Of course I have a couple of them," Haru sighed. "What kind of a cop would I be if I didn't?"

"Y-you're cops?" Furusawa asked, sweat beading on his upper lip. Nagisa grinned sharply at the nervous man.

"No we're not. I'm Big Penguin, remember? These guys are just my buddies. Who said anything about cops?"

"Right," Furusawa mumbled.

"What kind of a code name is Big Penguin?" Haru demanded.

"Isn't that the popular children's toy?" Makoto asked. "It's one of the characters from the Marine Animals series."

"How do you know that?" Haru stared, and Makoto flushed a little, scratching at his neck.

"Er, I might have a collection?"

"Big Penguin is my daughter's favourite toy," Furusawa said gloomily. "Nobody will suspect me talking to a cop when his code name's a stuffed animal."

"What on earth possessed you to choose a name like that— you know what, we're getting off topic here," Haru said, trying to regain some sort of common ground. "Remind us why you're here, at a crime scene, again?"

"And you know better than to lie, right?" Nagisa asked sweetly, and the street thug sighed, dropping his shoulders.

"I was here yesterday night, makin' a deal. I dropped my lighter here, so I came back this morning to find it when I can actually see the place."

"Do you always deal drugs here?" Makoto asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Naw, man, not here. I don't know where, but I had a lump sum I needed to pass off to my boss. He told me to meet here."

"Behind a courthouse no less. How ironic."

"Yeah, well, I don't go makin' the rules up, do I?" Furusawa sighed. "We were here, though, in the back alley. Didn't go makin' a mess at your crime scene, okay?"

"What time where you here?" Nagisa asked.

"Uh… around two in the morning, why?"

All three of them exchanged looks.

"Was there anybody here, besides you and your, uh, associate?"

Furusawa furrowed his eyebrows, thinking. "Y'know what, there was somebody, yeah."

"Who?" Haru and Makoto demanded at once, making the thug jump.

"I dunno, I didn't see. But my boss might've."

"How? Tell us what happened," Haru said sharply. Furusawa stuffed his hands into his pockets and shrugged.

"I jus' met up here, like always, and my boss was already hangin' around, right? So I just pass over the money I collected, same old, same old, but then we heard a loud noise over by the lot. That's when I dropped me lighter. Then, we heard laughing."

"Laughing?"

"Yeah. Laughing. Real loud. Sounded kinda creepy too, they were in right hysterics. I thought it was probably just some drunk schmuck, but then the guy popped out from around the corner and ran down that end of the alleyway. Scratched up the side of my boss' new car by accident too."

"Did you see who it was? Their height? What they were wearing?" Haru asked rapidly as Nagisa whipped out his notebook and scribbled everything furiously down. Makoto was frowning deeply.

Furusawa shook his head. "Too dark man, sorry. My boss might've seen who it was. He chased after the punk, shouting shit 'n all. But he probably didn't catch him; the guy's always high as kite 'n can't tell hand from foot most of the times."

"What's your boss' name?"

"Ichisake Karube. And for the love of god don't tell 'im I told you, okay? It'll be on my head." Furusawa shuddered. "I swear I got nuthin' to do with this, I just wanted my damn lighter back."

"We'll see about that," Haru said crisply. "Where can I find this Karube?"

"Uh, well, I don't know what he normally does during the day, but he goes to this club called the Swashbuckler every night. He's a big guy, got somethin' of a beer belly, and a tattoo of a tarantula on his neck. Rowdy drunk, Karube is. You won't miss 'im."

"Excellent," Haru muttered. "Then that's all we need to hear from you. You'd better get going if you want to avoid an arrest in the next ten minutes."

Clearly Furusawa did not need telling twice. He hightailed it out of the alley at once, not even complaining about his lost lighter.

"That was surprisingly helpful," Nagisa said thoughtfully, snapping his notebook shut. "What'll we do next, Haru-chan?"

"The best course of action would be to seek out this Karube at the Swashbuckler," the detective said, crossing his arms. "But I really don't see us effectively getting information out of a mafia drug dealer as cops."

"Are you suggesting we go undercover then?" Makoto asked, tapping his chin. "That might be a little difficult. We did appear on television two days ago."

"Not when it comes to this particular club, I think," Haru said. "It's somewhat shady, and always dark in there. Nobody would notice."

"Well… is it worth a shot?"

"Maybe," Haru sighed. "Sadly, this is the best lead we've got."

"So we're going to a club."

"Yeah, we're going to a club."

Makoto chuckled. "Well, there are worse ways of going undercover for this job."

"Well, you're not wrong about that," Haru muttered. "Let's check up on forensics one more time before heading back to the office to discuss a plan of action— Nagisa? Are you alright?"

The blond startled at his name, and then grinned sheepishly. "Ah, sorry, Haru-chan, I was just… thinking about something. Er, would it be okay if I didn't join you guys on this clubbing mission?"

Haru's eyebrows went right up. "You don't have to if you don't want to. Makoto and I can handle it, but why don't you want to go? Thought this would be right up your alley."

"There's something about the case that's been bugging me, but I can't figure it out!" Nagisa said with a frustrated sigh, waving his notebook in the air. "I wanted to stay at the office to go through some files, see if anything comes up."

"Fair enough," Haru shrugged. "Text me if you catch anything then."

"Hai, Haru-chan!" Nagisa said with a smart salute. "Don't get too caught up with the strippers like you did on the Inori case!" he added, and Makoto made a weird choking noise as Haru shot his assistant a fearsome glare.

"I was under the impression we were never to speak of that again. Is this payback for the pink sweater comment?"

Nagisa's grin was sharp enough to cut diamonds.

"Bitch, it might be."

The problem with being a quiet, uncomplicated and a more or less unsociable life was that Haru was almost never prepared for public situations. The most memorable was, perhaps, the staff Christmas party two years ago that involved Sasabe bringing in copious amount of wine, Nagisa accidentally punching Rei in the face after one too many shots, and himself waking up in the photocopy room at noon the next day with no recollection of how he ended up there. Since then Haru had actively avoided any type of party to the best of his abilities.

The Swashbuckler basically fulfilled all the criteria surrounding a trashy, excessively loud and rowdy club, and everything Haru wanted to stay away from.

There was a small crowd gathered in front of the building in the late evening when Makoto drove slowly by, following a trail of cars that were clearly headed for the club too. They all moved slower than a funeral procession, though, because the beefed-up guys in the vehicles were too busy leaning out of their windows to catcall at girls to drive. The whole place was a mix of fashions— Haru spotted people in halter-tops, muscle shirts, bomber jackets and multi-coloured jeans.

He'd hardly dared to believe it, but his own V-neck with a ridiculously plunging neckline (a gift from a clearly fashion blind Nagisa) and a pair of slightly torn jeans looked almost tame compared to what the partygoers were decked out in.

"Maa, looks like we'll have to park all the way down this side of the street," Makoto said, breaking the nervous silence. Haru hummed, drumming his fingers on his knee. The drive to the club had been quiet, made bearable only by the faint music playing on the radio. This undercover work had moved beyond the realm of the office and, well, Haru wasn't really used to seeing Makoto wear anything other than a dress shirt and a plain tie.

Makoto looked really good in party clothes.

The PI was wearing a light green button up underneath a well-worn leather jacket that accentuated his broad shoulders and stopped just above his hips. The slim-fitting pair of beige jeans was rolled up just a little at his ankles, showing off some kind of flat-soled, brand name shoe. The whole getup also provided an optimal view of Makoto's ass, because apparently the jeans must've been an old pair; there was no way something that tight should be allowed on anybody ever.

The overall view was even better than the Makoto wearing glasses. Haru wondered vaguely if a person could spontaneously combust from seeing a nice butt, and then desperately wished he hadn't gone along with this 'find the drug dealer at the club' plan.

Unfortunately, it seemed as though there was no escape. The constant nagging voice in the back of his mind told him that finding Karube was the closest thing to have for a witness, and all they had to do was get in, ask a question, and get the hell out of this place.

"Ready?" Makoto asked, interrupting Haru's internal conflict. It was a little difficult to see his expression in the dark, but the detective imagined it was similar to the grim look on his own face.

"Yeah," he said bracingly. "Let's go."

It was stifling hot inside the Swashbuckler. The ceiling was low and the walls painted various shades of mismatched greys with splashes of neon colours and graffiti painted across the surface. There was a dingy bar pushed into the corner, and already a large crowd was gathered around it, slurring orders at two bored bartenders.

Even more people were crowded on the dance floor, spilling out into the lounge area, where a bunch of people was seated in sagging couches. The music was so loud it sounded garbled and seemed to seep out of the grimy walls, but those dancing found a way to move erratically to the confusing beat either way. Tacky lights blazed from the ceiling, barely penetrating through a thick haze of smoke wafting up from the many cigarettes and other substances.

Eardrums threatening to give our already, Haru narrowed his eyes as he scanned the crowd.

Look for a fat, high guy with a tattoo of a tarantula on his neck. Yeah, easier said than done.

Somebody rammed into Haru's shoulder, hard, and Makoto had to throw an arm around his shoulders to steady the shorter dark-haired man.

"They can't possibly have this many people in the building and not violate the maximum persons policy!" Makoto hollered over the pounding music.

"We'll arrest the owners another day," Haru shouted back, voice slightly muffled from his position against the brunet's side. "Do you see anything?"

Makoto let out a snort. "I can see about two feet in front of me, and that's about it. There are way too many clubbers." He was leaning much too close, his lips barely an inch away from Haru's ears, but that wasn't Makoto's fault; the music was simply deafening. He suppressed a shiver.

"Well, let's not stand here, we're going to get run over," Haru grumbled, managing to slide out from under Makoto's arm before elbowing his way through a throng of headbanging teenagers and squeezed into a booth by the bar. Makoto settled in the seat opposite him and placed his hands on the table, only to retract them instantly with a grimace.

"Oh, god, it's sticky," the PI groaned. "I really don't want to know."

A waitress in a bright orange tank top and shorts stalked over, popping a massive wad of bubble gum as she glared down at them with heavily lined eyes.

"What'll it be for the night?" she asked in a monotone voice, twirling her pen.

"Er— two beers. We'll open a tab," Makoto said, and the girl scrawled something down her notepad before disappearing again.

Cautiously keeping his hands far away from the tabletop, Haru waited until she was gone before jerking his head in the direction of the dance floor.

"We should split up. It'll make finding Karube a lot quicker. When one of us finds him we'll just text each other. I really don't want to stay here any longer than necessary."

"Right," Makoto said as the waitress returned and placed two cold beers down onto the tabletop. They each took one.

"So— a toast? For good luck?"

Haru barely suppressed a snort. "We'll need more than luck," he said, and knocked their bottles together before taking a swig. The cold liquid burned. When he raised his head, there was a gaggle of young woman hovering nearby, nearly identical with their dyed hair and exaggerated make-up. Their eyes were trained on Makoto.

"Looks like you've got an audience," Haru muttered, and the brunet blinked just as the first woman descended upon them.

"Hey," she said with a smile. "Am I interrupting anything?"

"Eh?" Makoto asked, slightly startled. "Um, we're—"

"Come dance with us," another girl interrupted, grinning. "It'll be fun!"

"C'mon, handsome," somebody else cajoled, and Haru took a large gulp of bitter brew.

"Ah— I— alright, alright," Makoto said pacifyingly, and the girls cheered when he got out of his seat. Like magnets, Haru felt his eyes nearly zoning in on the brunet's ass before professionalism kicked in and made him take another mouthful of beer instead.

"Haru. I'll text if I notice anything," Makoto said quietly, and Haru barely managed a nod before the PI was dragged onto the dance floor by the partygoers, vanishing in an instant. Oddly enough, that left a rather sour taste in Haru's mouth.

He can't believe this is his life.

Draining the last of his beer in one swallow, the detective stood up, drawing strength from the little bubble of alcohol-induced courage before he shoved his way through the crowd as well. He left a couple of bills on the table and wandered away. Might as well be useful and try to find the guy before he went deaf.

A minute of searching turned into five.

Five minutes turned into twenty.

By the time the forty-five minute mark neared Haru was nearing the end of his rope. There was literally nobody that resembled anything similar to what Furusawa had described, and he wondered for a moment of the street thug was yanking their leg. It seemed unlikely though, because Nagisa was scary when he wanted to be and probably kept the guy on a really tight leash. The only explanation was that Karube simply wasn't at the Swashbuckler tonight.

Haru desperately wanted to go home, but Makoto was still stuck with the same group of girls, who were getting progressively bolder with their advances. Makoto seemed to be doing a fine job fending them off, and Haru wondered vaguely if he could help, but sheer pride stopped him from doing so. Makoto was a grown man, and he could solve his own problems.

He had no reason to help him here over something so trivial.

Yet another smashed clubber ran headlong into Haru, sending the two of them stumbling off the dance floor, and the detective was ready to let out a particularly rude swear word when he noticed a man staggering out of the men's washroom with two scantily-clad ladies in tow.

Tall guy. Beer belly. A rather crappy tattoo of a large, hairy spider on the side of his neck.

What were the chances.

As Haru watched, the two women sauntered off and vanished into the crowd as Ichisake Karube collapsed into one of the sofas. He clicked his fingers and somebody delivered a beer. The large man took a huge gulp and belched. Haru winced.

Here goes nothing, he thought bracingly, and then moved to sit next to the man.

One look instantly told him the drug dealer was already high; perhaps not anything strong, but the thick scent of smoke and the slight flush on his cheeks were clearly the result of something other than a dirty bathroom blowjob. The leather of his shirt stretched uncomfortably over the wide chest, and Haru could see a mess of wiry chest hair peeking out from the top. Clearing his throat, he caught the dealer's attention.

"Evening, Karube-san," he said shortly, mimicking the tone of somebody who's already had a few. Karube squinted at him in the dim light, suspicious.

"Who're you?" the man grunted.

"I'm a friend of Furusawa's," Haru said, appropriately adjusting his pronunciation of words. "Came down to say how sorry I am about your car, man. Heard it got scratched up good."

All misgivings seemed to vanish out of Karube's eyes at the mere mention of his car, and the man was off at once.

"Damn straight! Some rude ass punk thought it'll be funny to run right into the side in the middle o' the damn night! Ruined my 400$ paint job, that bastard did!"

"Did you see who it was?" Haru asked. Karube shrugged and took another swig.

"S'too dark to see anythin' at night," he snorted. "Looked like nothin' but some damn squirrel."

"Y'know, I heard that there was a guy going around targeting nice rides," Haru lied smoothly, drumming his fingers on the armrest. "Messed up a few of my buddies' cars too. We were thinking if we could catch the guy, we could teach him a lesson or two."

That caught Karube's attention once more, and his eyes gleamed. "That doesn't sound half bad," he mused, scratching at his double chins. "Granted, it was dark, and I couldn't see for shit, but he had on one of those varsity jackets, from sports, or whatever. Bit shorter than me, I think, and damn sneaky too. One minute all I hear was some freaky-ass laughing and then the punk came bursting out of the building through some secret door and shot righ' past."

"A secret door?" Haru repeated, frowning. "What secret door?"

"I dunno, do I?" Karube snapped. "If I knew it wouldn't be a secret, innit?"

"Right, so, did you see his face at all?" Haru pressed. He was so close. If only this drunkard could remember…

"Nah," Karube shrugged, clumsily setting his drink down. "Skinny guy tho'. Looked like he had light hair under the damn streetlight."

"Alright," Haru said, hiding a breath of relief. Now they were getting somewhere. This was good enough from a guy who could barely see straight, and he honestly didn't want to sit next to the drug dealer for a moment longer. The man smelled rancid. "Thanks for your help, Karube-san."

The man grunted dismissively, and Haru turned away, only to walk right into the chest of a large guy with a goatee blocking his path. The man was older, dressed in a similar fashion to Karube, and smelled heavily of cigarette smoke. There were two other guys hovering behind him, also heavy in build and menacing.

"Who's this you've got here, Karube?" Goatee asked, smirking. Unlike his friend, this guy wasn't drunk or high, and neither did the men behind him appear to be intoxicated either. One of them grinned sharply, and Haru's gut clenched.

"Some friend of a friend's," Karube shouted back loudly.

"Some friend of a friend's," Goatee repeated slowly, as though tasting the words. "You got a name, friend of a friend?"

"It's called I'm leaving," Haru said briskly, but as he made to walk around Goatee stuck his hand out and cut him off.

"Now, now, we're just having a bit of fun, aren't we?" he smirked, and the other two guys snickered. Haru glared.

"Please step aside."

Goatee's fleshy hand suddenly moved towards his chest, and Haru backtracked at once. The men moved in at once, and one of the other blokes slung a heavy arm around his shoulders.

"Let me buy you a drink, Leaving," he snickered, and the hairs on the back of Haru's neck stood right up. No way was this happening now.

"Let go of me."

"Aw, don't be so unfriendly, princess."

"C'mon, loosen up a little. No need to be so cold."

Haru snarled and shoved the arm off, step-siding the thug as he swiped for the detective. "Don't touch me," he hissed, and the mocking smiles slid off the men's faces. Haru's stomach lurched; if they got into a fight, he would go down. Not because he was weak or unfit, but because it was three against one and all of the assholes nearly had twenty pounds on him.

But before his brain could kick-start is legs into running the hell out of the club, yet another arm came snaking around his waist, pulling him back into a solid chest. Haru nearly let out a yell until a very familiar voice hummed, "There you are, love, I wondered where you'd run off to."

It was Makoto with his arm slung around Haru's waist, Makoto who dropped his chin on top of Haru's head, and Makoto's long fingers that were playing with the strands of hair by his ear. It tickled.

"Gentlemen," Makoto said politely. "If you don't mind, I'll take back what's already mine for the night." His tone left no room for argument, and for a minute the three guys looked ready to combust, but then Goatee let out a full-bellied roar of laughter and slapped his friend on the back.

"And here we thought he was just bein' a frigid bitch!" he hollered, and the others join in the laughter. Haru bristled, and Makoto's arm tightened minutely around his waist.

"We'll be heading out now," the brunet said simply, tugging Haru along. "Good night, then."

"Bet you're gonna have a real good night!" somebody shouted, and then there were more rowdy chortles. Haru's face burned as the two of them hurried out of the club, no longer inclined to stay any longer. The fresh, cool night air that greeted them was a welcome gift from the heavens, but it did nothing to quench Haru's anger. He waited until they were far away enough from the Swashbuckler to vent.

"What was that?" Haru demanded as they reached Makoto's car. "What the hell was that?!"

"Your way out," the PI retorted, getting into the driver's seat.

"I didn't need your knight in shining armor act back there," Haru said heatedly.

"Yeah, 'cause you were handling the situation so well, right?" Makoto snapped. "Get in the car, Haru."

There was a moment of internal struggle as the dark-haired man contemplated flipping Makoto the bird instead, but he yanked open the passenger door and settled heavily in the seat, posture stiff. Makoto started the car and pulled out onto the main road immediately, but his tight grip on his steering wheel betrayed his anger.

It was a painful ride home, and the tension burned.

When they finally arrived back at the apartment blocks, the detective threw the door open at once and stomped out, intent on heading home and taking his frustration out on a couple of pillows or so, but just as he made it up the stairs and opened his door, Makoto caught up and grabbed Haru's wrist.

"Haru—"

"Let go of me," Haru snarled, wrenching his arm from Makoto's grasp, but the brunet pursued him, undeterred.

"You used to tell me not to run away. Look at what you're doing now!"

That felt like a sucker punch to the gut.

"How dare you," Haru spat furiously, slapping his hand against the kitchen wall to turn on the lights and ended up missing in his rage. The hall light flicked on instead, throwing the dark room into a hazy relief with the golden glow. Makoto's figure blocked out most of the light as he stood defiantly, chin tilted up.

"Don't practice what you don't preach."

"I'm not the one who left because they had emotional issues."

"And you're doing so well with your own emotions right now?" Makoto shot back scathingly, and dear god, Haru almost wanted to punch him.

"You gave up whatever we had back then. Don't throw a hissy fit just because a couple of older guys thought it'd be fun to hit on me."

Makoto's eyes narrowed, and for a moment he looked unfamiliar to Haru. The glare was almost lethal, and he couldn't help but wonder how much of the countryside Makoto remained in this man before him.

"I'm not allowed to get upset when those slobs were moving in on you but you can storm off in a huff when a few girls got flirty?"

"I didn't need your help with those guys; I had the situation under control!"

"The hell you did!"

"You argue like a child," Haru growled. "Get out of my flat."

"Oh, who's the one avoiding the topic now?"

"Get out!"

Makoto leaned forwards slightly until they were almost nose-to-nose, and said, "No."

Haru reeled back and punched him.

His hand immediately stung from the contact and Makoto stumbled back, clearly not expecting to be hit. Then, the brunet caught his footing and retaliated, socking Haru so hard in the jaw the detective swore he saw stars. It seemed as though all the pent-up emotion and frustration built up from years ago had just broken through a dam, and then the two of them were launching themselves at one another like angsty teenagers. Any form of training and self-control flew out the window— all Haru wanted to do was fight until he dropped.

They crashed into the wall, the counter and knocked over a chair before Makoto caught the upper hand with his superior height and slammed Haru down onto the kitchen table. Haru yelled as the edge of the tabletop dug into his spine and his flailing hand smacked the brunet in the face unintentionally. Makoto grabbed his wrist.

"Let go of me," Haru snapped.

Makoto's tone was cold as he said, "We need to talk this out. And by talking I don't mean getting into another fistfight."

"You're gonna get another fist in your face if you don't back off now."

"Oh, no," the brunet shot back, almost mockingly. "You're scary, Haru."

"Fuck you."

Makoto narrowed his eyes, and his iron grip on Haru's wrist tightened even more as he leaned down much too close and said, "You want to know something? Why I'm mad? It's really simple. I didn't like all those assholes putting their hands on you."

"You were jealous," Haru growled. "Really? What are you, a teenager?"

"Watch your tone," Makoto said icily. "You're really in no position to berate me."

"I'm not jealous."

"Liar," Makoto whispered, and then he tilted his chin upwards, brushing his lips lightly against Haru's. The detective let out a full body spasm in surprise, and Makoto lunged. Their mouths connected awkwardly because of the uncomfortable position, and Haru squirmed, jerking his head to the side.

"What the hell are you doing," Haru snapped.

"Kissing you, you idiot."

"I don't want your damn kisses."

"Really?" Makoto drawled, rolling the r as he leaned in again and mouthed down the side of Haru's neck, languidly alternating between small bites and licks. Haru bit down a gasp and wrenched his wrist out of the brunet's hold.

His brain was blank, but the tiny bit alcohol and the mass of adrenaline coursing through his veins had kicked common sense to the curb long ago.

Also, his pants were getting far too tight.

"Don't you dare half ass this," Haru hissed, abandoning all pretense now, and threw his arms around Makoto's neck to drag the taller man towards him once again. This time, the kiss was significantly messier and much more desperate. Makoto chased him down, growling lowly as their tongues slid wetly against each other's, slick and warm.

"Get your damn jacket off," Haru muttered between kisses, all but shoving the garment off Makoto's shoulders. The brunet complied; tossing it aside as Haru dragged his fingernails across the broad expanse of Makoto's back, reveling in the feel of taut muscles beneath the thin shirt as he yanked the PI even closer.

The re-arrangement of their position allowed Haru to boldly wrap his legs around Makoto's waist, and Makoto rolled his hips, making them both groan loudly at the friction.

"Shirt," the brunet murmured fervently against Haru's lips, hands sliding under the V-neck to brush against the faint outline of abs. Haru complied, stretching his hands up to yank his top off. He shivered in the cool air, skin burning as Makoto's hands skimmed over his sides, only to pause at a spot just above his hipbone.

Oh.

"Is that…?" Makoto asked quietly, tracing the narrow scar against pale skin. It wasn't a very long cut and it had thankfully healed over well after the surgery, but there would forever be a three-inch long, slightly jagged mark contrasting against an otherwise unmarked abdomen.

"It's nothing," Haru replied bluntly, and Makoto's green eyes flitted up to meet Haru's blue ones before the brunet was gracefully getting down on his knees despite his massive stature. A warm tongue traced over the scar and Haru jerked.

"Stop that," he hissed, and flinched again when Makoto blatantly ignored him and pressed a soft kiss over the mark instead. Then his lips trailed lower, lower, until the brunet was mouthing over the growing bulge in Haru's pants. Haru groaned, pushing at Makoto's shoulders.

"Don't waste my time," he grumbled, and Makoto shot him a smirk before deftly reaching up to undo Haru's belt, pull down his fly and tug his underwear down in one go, finally freeing his aching member. Makoto dragged his lips over the tip and Haru shuddered, his fingers gripping the soft brown locks.

"Hurry up," he managed in a strangled voice, and Makoto obliged, skillfully licking and tonguing the heated skin before swallowing down in one go. Haru jerked his hips against his will and Makoto's hands caught them before he could choke. The sheer feeling of Makoto holding him down and the sight of his back muscles and biceps flexing with the strain of it sent a jolt of want through his whole body.

"Makoto," he moaned, his voice nothing more than guttural noise by now, and Makoto seemed to take that as a challenge to make Haru come as fast as humanely possible. The brunet bobbed his head, humming lowly around the mouthful of cock, and stroked with his hands wherever his mouth couldn't reach.

"God damn it, not so fast— Makoto—" Haru choked out, his fingers tightening in Makoto's hair, and then the bastard dragged his teeth ever so slightly and Haru couldn't reign himself in anymore. Body tensing like a bowstring, he came with a shout, and Makoto simply deep-throated him in an instant, swallowing every last drop.

Dazed and completely overcome by a wave of aftershock, Haru barely registered Makoto straightening up, the bright green eyes nothing more than a ring of colour around viciously blow pupils, and by god if that's not the hottest sight he's ever seen before. Catching sight of where Makoto's hand was now only made things better.

Pushing himself up on his elbows, Haru batted Makoto's hand aside and wrapped his own around the brunet's length and began jerking him off in quick, smooth movements. Makoto groaned low in his throat, his back arching ever so slightly, his hands clenching into fists. Haru felt a smidge of smugness as he tugged the other down for a lazy kiss consisting mostly of tongues. Makoto's dick gave a rather interested twitch, and Haru increased his speed, smirking when the brunet hissed.

"Fuck, Haru, your hands—"

"C'mon," Haru whispered, dropping his head so that he could mouth along Makoto's pulse point. "Come for me."

Makoto let out a strangled groan and tensed, releasing all over Haru's hand a moment later. Intense personal satisfaction filled the dark-haired man at the fact that the other basically came on his demand, and then the brunet flopped forwards, nearly tipping them both over onto the table.

Feeling Makoto's breathing starting to even out, Haru mumbled, "Not here," and pushed at the taller man until he straightened. "Just get in the bed. I'm exhausted."

Makoto nodded, moving back so that he could pick up his jacket. The initial rage had been snuffed out faster than a candle caught in high winds, leaving the pair completely drained. Haru staggered into his room and flopped face first into the pile of blankets, not even bothering to change out of his shirt or take off his shoes. A moment later, movement on the edge of the bed told him that Makoto had crawled next to him, and the brunet wearily pulled the sheets over their bodies.

Just before Haru drifted off to sleep, he swore he felt soft lips press against his forehead and a soft sigh ruffle his bangs before Makoto was settling down, his large frame pressed against Haru's back.

The flat was silent for the rest of the night.

Notes:

I rushed this chapter a little bit; I'm sorry. I felt really bad for delaying my writing but a lot of work has cropped up this past week and I'm really tired and feeling kind of down. Chapter 8 might take a little bit longer as well, but I promise that I will work super hard on it. I promise the others (Rei, Rin, Gou, Mikoshiba, etc) will return to the story soon.

On the bright side, this is the first smut scene I've written since I started writing fanfiction four years ago. I've probably written over forty stories by now. Good grief, where does the time go.

As always, thank you so much for taking the time to read.

-Laurie