I'm sure you're all wondering why I'm writing a (loosely) Greek mythology AU when DCMK is Japanese and therefore shouldn't it be a Japanese folklore au of some kind? The answer is that I've been reading a truly horrifying number of Hades & Persephone au fics and also I don't know Japanese folklore at all, so. Yeah. I will admit that this started out as "Let's write 2k words of cute Greekgod!ShinKai" and turned into "Let's add in insecure!Shinichi and some weird backstory and other random shit until it's almost 10k." I apologize for my lack of control and kind of shitty writing skills.

Warnings include shounen-ai, possible grammar mistakes / errors, a truly sickening amount of fluff and stupidity, gross bastardization of Greek mythology because the finished product barely resembles the Hades and Persephone story at this point, etc. Title from The Fray's "Look After You," because I love that song and it sort of fits the mood of the fic, at least in my opinion.

You've Begun to Feel like Home

For the most part, Shinichi liked to think that he was a fair ruler. (Well, as fair as the ruler of the underworld could be.) He tried not to be too cruel to anyone (not even to the bastard who had dared to suggest Holmes wasn't the greatest detective; sure, Poirot was good, but he wasn't great, and there was no comparison) and he didn't give horrible punishments (such as vivisection, peeling off fingernails, being stuffed naked in a barrel of nails, etc.) like a few Kings of the Underworld had in the past. Most of the souls he judged ended up living (dying?) in the Asphodel Meadows or Elysium. (He hadn't sent anyone to the Fields of Punishment in a long time, though the "Poirot is better than Holmes" guy had gotten the closest in ages.)

All in all, Shinichi personally thought that he was doing a halfway decent job ruling the land of the dead, especially for a guy who never gone to university (although he had passed the entrance exam at Touto, so). He never actively enjoyed his job, but it wasn't so terrible, most of the time.

Now was not one of those times.

"Could they be a little easier with the taxes," Shinichi grumbled to himself as he sifted through the stack of paperwork that had accumulated at the arm of his chair. It was less of a chair and more of a giant, blocky throne made of solid onyx that was imbued with words of power, runes, the souls of the dead, etc., but most of the time Shinichi thought of it as a particularly uncomfortable bench. And honestly, whoever had commissioned the thing had no consideration for future Kings of the Dead. Solid onyx was not good on the tailbone.

"What's wrong, Kudou?" Hattori, Shinichi's advisor/self-proclaimed best friend, asked from the corner, where he was filing his nails with a skull-printed emery board. For someone who made fun of Shinichi for actually bothering to wear a button down while determining people's eternal fates because "why do you need to dress up for dead people? They don't care what you're wearing," he had gotten strangely particular about personal cleanliness lately. (Shinichi suspected it had something to do with the ponytailed demigod who called him gross and unhygienic last time she'd come to visit a friend.)

With a sigh, Shinichi toppled the stack of papers over – he'd hate himself later, but for the moment it was stress relieving – and buried his face in his hands. "I've just gotten an influx of taxes from Above," he groaned between his fingers, scrubbing at the inner corners of his eyes. "Why is everyone insisting I pay rent for the Land of the Dead? One, it's not as if they even come visit me down here, so why should they even care about the place? And two, it's the Land of the Dead. You don't pay rent on the Land of the Dead. That's like – like paying rent on Olympus itself."

"When you say 'everyone,' who do you mean?" Hattori asked idly, blowing dust off his nails.

"Kogorou. Eri." Shinichi wrinkled his nose, finding the two bits of paper from the god of wine and goddess of wisdom, respectively, crumpled beside his left foot. He groaned when he caught sight of the names at the bottom of a particularly long document by his other ankle – Yuusaku, god of fire, metal, sculpture in solid, blocky print, right next to Yukiko, goddess of love and beauty (love you, Shin-chan!) in loopy, flowery script. "My own parents." He mentally promised he'd go – wreck his dad's forge or steal his mom's love potions. Something drastic.

"Your parents are just messing with you. They think it's funny," Hattori told him dismissively, and Shinichi rolled his eyes.

"And you know this because you have afternoon tea and sleepovers with them. Right." The mental image was – worrying. Shinichi frowned.

Oblivious, Hattori just shook his head. "Actually, we sane people call it 'visiting Above more than once a year,' but I guess that works as well." Frowning at his index finger – apparently he'd shaved it too close – Hattori went back to work.

Letting out a frustrated noise, Shinichi slumped back against the throne. "It's not just that, though. There's been an influx in souls lately – I don't even know why; it's not as if there's another world war going on – but when I petitioned to get some extra help down here at the last personnel meeting, everyone Above laughed at me. All I wanted was a few demigods to help Hakuba man the ferries, maybe someone who could take Cerberus for a walk every now and again. You know, since Haibara apparently thinks it's below her now." He shut his eyes. "Is that too much to ask?"

"You could always try to get everyone Above to take you more seriously," Hattori offered.

Shinichi cracked an eye to glare at him. "How?"

"I don't know, do something drastic? Go on strike."

"I'd just be hurting more souls who have to wait. And the lobby's not that big. We could probably only fit, like, one boatload of people in there before it started getting uncomfortable." Shinichi closed his eyes again.

"You could… send an angry letter?"

"Like they'd listen to me." Shinichi frowned. "Also, that makes me sound like a disgruntled PTA mom."

Hattori made a pensive sound that out of context, Shinichi would assume came from a slowly dying animal. "Uh… get… a really bad haircut?" he hedged, absolutely useless.

"Why am I friends with you?" Shinichi paused. "Why do I pay you?"

"Because I'm amazing," Shinichi thought he heard Hattori mutter, which no, but he was distracted when Hattori exclaimed, "Oh! I know! You could kidnap someone important! Like – like someone's wife! Or maybe someone's kid!"

"What a great idea," Shinichi mumbled. He could feel a migraine coming on. "Definitely. Kidnap the child of an all-powerful deity. Great idea, Hattori. A plus. Eleven stars out of ten."

"Wait, so do I have the go ahead?" Hattori asked, sounding far too excited for a joke.

"Totally. Knock yourself out. I'm behind you one hundred and eighteen percent," Shinichi sighed sarcastically, and put his head in his hands to have a nice moment of internal screaming. After that, he forgot all about what he'd said as a new group of freshly dead souls came into the throne room and he had to decide whether a cat burglar who'd donated over three million yen to cancer research was worthy of Elysium (in the end it was a no, but it was close).

So when Hattori came back into the throne room two days later with a confused Kuroba Kaito in tow, announcing, "Look, I kidnapped Toichi's kid, just like you suggested!" in a tone that one usually saved for announcements of lottery wins and royal births, Shinichi decided he needed to have a talk with Hattori about how to detect sarcasm, after which he might just stab Hattori in the face, throw him into the Styx, and save himself a lot of headache.

See, the thing with Kuroba Kaito was that, well, Shinichi had developed a slight – attraction to him over the years. A very slight, very impersonal, purely physical attraction.

(That was what he called it at least. Shinichi's mother, on the other hand, referred to it as Shinichi being "enamored" of him, Hattori brought it up whenever he needed to remind Shinichi that he had blackmail material, and Ran liked to laugh at him when she stopped in to visit because he was "so hopeless, honestly." But anyway.)

Shinichi had only seen him a few times, at the galas they held Above on the solstices. The first time, he hadn't wanted to be there, because the galas were always overblown and someone inevitably ended up hiring nymph strippers, which was always awkward to remember in the morning, but Hattori had insisted. He'd spent most of the night trying to keep Hattori from drinking all the ambrosia in sight while also maintaining an air of aloofness that befit a King of the Dead (it didn't really work, especially since most of the gods were friends with his parents and still liked to pinch his cheeks and coo at him whenever they saw him).

Despite Shinichi's efforts, Hattori ended up drunk out of his mind, composing sonnets to various potted plants and a particularly bold half-naked satyr who had crawled into his lap when Shinichi hadn't been looking. Nobody else seemed to care about the fact that Hattori was probably two shots from temporary death, though – everyone else was too caught up in the miniature Fountain of Youth someone had set up or the music the siren band was playing or the nymph strippers that had indeed been hired at some point – so Shinichi had resigned himself to getting Hattori home on his own. He had to sigh – Hattori had been around for a bit longer than Shinichi, and he had friends who should've at least noticed that he was going to get ambrosia poisoning. It had been a little disconcerting and a lot sad, seeing that.

Until a hand had landed on his shoulder, and Shinichi had turned to find Kuroba Kaito standing there.

To clarify – it had been hard to impress Shinichi at that point. It still was. He'd grown up among gods who could demolish buildings with a twitch of the fingers or were so beautiful mere mortals couldn't look them in the face without dissolving into ash. He himself was considered one of the most powerful gods ever (although nobody ever seemed to treat him as one). Displays of power and pure beauty weren't that exciting anymore.

And yet. And yet.

Kuroba Kaito, of all the sparkling, gorgeous people in the room, had stood out as if he were under a limelight. Not because he had been particularly good-looking – in a room full of gods, he certainly wasn't the prettiest there, although he had been glowing just a bit – but because he had been so – so – there wasn't a word for it. Bright, maybe, but not quite, because he wasn't flashy, not obtrusively so. All the same, there had been something there that caught and held Shinichi's attention. Just – something, something familiar and warm that sank to the bottom of his stomach and stayed there.

And all of that had been before Kaito, frowning with concern, had motioned at Hattori and asked, "Do you need help getting him home? He doesn't look that good."

Stunned, Shinichi had taken a little too long to answer. He knew he had because Kaito had started looking a little worried about him, rather than Hattori. Eventually, Shinichi had gotten his vocal chords in working order and told Kaito, "I – that would be great, thanks. If you don't mind."

That was how Kaito had ended up helping Shinichi drag a giggly Hattori to the portal back to the underworld that Shinichi had left open at Olympus's back door. Kaito had expressed further concerns – "Are you sure he'll be okay? Do you need me to call someone ahead of time?" – but Shinichi had assured him he'd take care of it. Kaito had nodded, smiled in a way that could've brought made flowers bloom in January, and then left, whistling. At the time, Shinichi hadn't even known his name.

From asking around, Shinichi had discovered he was Kuroba Kaito and the fact that he was Toichi's son, but that was all he could find out. Shinichi ended up going to another four solstice parties, nymph strippers and all, just to catch a glimpse of him again.

But in the end, it was just an infatuation, and Shinichi knew better than anyone that it was entirely one-sided. He'd only talked to the guy once, after all. There was no way Kaito even remembered him.

"I'm really sorry about this," Shinichi told Kaito, who was now sitting across from him in the dusty receiving room that hadn't been used for nearly a century. "I was joking when I told Hattori to go…" (kidnap, his mind supplied) "…get you."

"S'fine," Kaito assured him, waving a hand. Shinichi was struck by just how warm he seemed, with his mischievous smile and how he tapped his fingers against his kneecap in an offbeat rhythm. Just as Shinichi remembered, he fairly exuded radiance, to the point that one might confuse him for the god of light's kid, rather than Toichi's (the god of trade, thieves, and mischief, in case anyone was wondering). He looked extremely out of place amidst the black silk draperies and laser-cut marble, like a single star in a dark night sky. "It's kind of boring Above, anyway. Especially when your parents spend all their time going to dinner parties at Olympus and leaving you home alone."

Wait, what? Shinichi, who had been playing with the frayed edge of the jet black cushion of his chair, jolted upright. "Wait, your parents go to the dinner parties at Olympus? Both of them?" But would that mean that both of his parents were –

"Right, because my dad's Toichi and my mom's Chikage," Kaito answered cheerfully, clearly oblivious to the fact that Shinichi was about to melt on the spot.

"Your mom's Chikage," Shinichi repeated numbly. "Chikage. Goddess of the hearth."

"And home and domesticity and family," Kaito agreed amiably.

"So you're a full –"

"I'm a full god, yes," Kaito agreed, then frowned. "I mean, I'm a pretty minor god of magic, and I'm definitely not as powerful or good-looking as you are, maybe, but –"

"I hate Hattori," Shinichi mumbled into his hands, deciding to ignore the good-looking comment, because his brain just wasn't prepared to handle that. "He said he was going to get a demigod, not a… I hate him so much." He also hated Hattori for picking Kaito, of all the gods' kids, even if he'd thought (as Shinichi had) that Kaito was a demigod. The idiot knew how Shinichi felt about Kaito.

And Kaito was a god. Shinichi was going to be eviscerated for this.

"If it's any consolation," Kaito offered, and his expression was chagrined when Shinichi unglued his hands from his face long enough to look him in the face, the way a puppy looked when it thought it had done something wrong, "I offered to go with him when he said he was trying to find someone to kidnap. I mean, I was kind of interested because Hattori – that's your tan friend, right? – pulled up in this really awesome chariot –"

"He took the chariot without asking?" Shinichi mentally cleared his afternoon. The souls of the dead could wait. He had an idiot/best friend to vivisect. Under his breath, he muttered, "I am not paying to fix the paint job if that idiot scratched it. The damn thing cost more than the entire underworld last time."

Kaito scanned the sitting room carefully. The windows, which overlooked the misty, golden hills of Elysium, were covered in spider silk curtains, and the floors beneath their feet were solid, varnished black diamond. The chairs they sat on were made of ebony and inlaid with little constellations of dark jade. He gave Shinichi a bewildered look. "Did it really?"

"It's hard to find people who work on millennia-old chariots," Shinichi informed him absently, caught up in thoughts of just what he was going to do to Hattori when he found him. "Apparently you can't just go to any old mechanic and ask them to do a touch-up." (He spoke from experience. The one time he'd driven the chariot up to a garage and asked how much a new paint job would cost, he'd just gotten a monkey wrench thrown at his head and called a freak.)

"Oh." Kaito blinked, a bit taken aback. "Well, that's a shame."

"Anyway, that's not the point." Shinichi set Hattori's future murder in the far, far back of his brain, where he generally stored things related to Hattori. "I think we should send you back as soon as possible, before anyone realizes you're gone. I can open a portal." He grimaced. "It's really not good for public relations if it looks as if I've kidnapped a fellow god. I'm going to get news reporters showing up in the middle of judgment time, asking for comments and photo ops." Like they had that time Cerberus had gotten loose and gone on a rampage in an American shopping mall. The clean-up for that one had been something awful, if Shinichi recalled correctly. Who knew news reporters weren't intimidated by gods of the dead?

"Really?" Kaito actually looked disappointed, which confused Shinichi to no end (after all, the underworld wasn't exactly known for its hospitality and homey feel). He twisted his hands in his lap as he admitted, "I was looking forward to staying a few days around here, actually. The palace is really great, from what I've heard and seen so far."

He looked so upset, almost as if Shinichi had kidnapped his pet cat and thrown it into rush hour traffic, that Shinichi found himself capitulating. It wasn't because he was, like, obsessed with Kaito or anything. He was the King of the Dead. He was not driven by stupid, unrequited not-crushes. He wasn't.

"You can – if you're interested, that is, I can arrange for you to have a room for a few days," Shinichi offered once he had sufficiently convinced himself of his non-attraction. He shrugged. "As long as you explain to your parents that it was just a – er – vacation when you go back Above."

While Shinichi had been talking, Kaito's face had lit up from the inside, like one of those paper cutout lanterns. By the time Shinichi finished, he was positively glowing (well, brighter than before). Little multicolored sparks ignited from his fingertips, dancing around his wrists in spiraling swirls. It was captivating. "Really?" he asked, sounding far more excited than Shinichi had prepared himself for.

"Yes, really," Shinichi agreed, and then made some excuse about needing to attend to the dead instead of melting into a soppy puddle at Kaito's feet. He still had his pride, after all.

Apparently Shinichi did not have his pride, because he found himself giving Kaito a tour of the palace instead of, you know, doing actual god of the dead duties. Whatever. Shinichi was weak. He could now admit that.

The palace was a huge, sprawling mess of muted dark colors, mainly black but with a few shades of red for contrast. It lay beside the river Styx like a hulking, living creature, shrouded in smoky gray mist and pale bits of moonlight. Shinichi could not honestly say that he knew the entire layout of the place, even though he'd been King of the Dead for a decent amount of time. Just last week he'd gone looking for a bathroom and instead discovered an entire home theater, complete with popcorn makers and an unnervingly large collection of rom-coms.

Maybe it was just because Shinichi was used to getting unnerved reactions to the palace and all its somber dark tones and general gloomy atmosphere, but he was legitimately surprised when Kaito expressed an emotion other than "You need to get an interior decorator" (Ran) or "Shin-chan, I'm bringing neon paint next time I visit" (his mother) while they walked down the fifteenth (or was it sixteenth?) hall full of paintings of ghosts and/or other dead people memorabilia.

"Wow, all this stuff really sets the mood, don't you think?" Kaito asked, tipping the empty helmet on a suit of armor forward. He did a twirl, ridiculous and smirking, in the middle of the hallway. Shinichi swallowed dryly.

"I would've thought it'd be a little too depressing for you," he remarked instead of staring in awe. "It's kind of – dark, don't you think?"

"It's the land of the dead. The underworld," Kaito returned, lifting an eyebrow as he came to a stop by a watercolor painting of a decapitated centaur (Shinichi frowned; he was definitely taking that down. It was a bit too much, even for him). "It's not supposed to be rainbows and unicorns and butterflies."

"Yes, but," Shinichi began, and then didn't know how to continue. "Yes, but most people expect it to be"? Would that be weird?

He didn't get a chance to continue before Kaito was bounding off, leaving little explosions of color in his wake. A few seconds later, Shinichi steeled himself and followed at a cautious distance, watching Kaito make an appreciative noise at a ball of dark matter sitting on a pedestal. He was never going to understand how someone who glowed found the place attractive in any way.

By the end of the day, Shinichi had shown Kaito around the rivers, the palace, and the throne room. They took a detour through Elysium to visit Cerberus – Kaito was delighted to meet him – and then looped back through the Fields of Asphodel.

Kaito waved at every soul they passed. Shinichi wasn't surprised – he seemed like the kind of person. He was surprised, though, when a small girl who couldn't have been older than six ran into their path, staring wide-eyed at Kaito. It made sense that she'd react that way, considering there wasn't much that shone bright around here save for perhaps the fluorescent lightbulb-suns above Elysium. The girl skidded to a stop in front of Kaito, eyes wide and awed as she twisted her hands in front of her. An older woman – likely not blood related, as the girl was small and delicately boned and the woman was blocky, a stout statue of a person – ran after her, hissing, "Haruka, stop –" but she fell silent when she realized Kaito and Shinichi were watching them.

For a moment, nobody moved. Shinichi felt uncomfortable and a little sad – he didn't doubt that many of the souls harbored some kind of resentment towards him; he had, after all, sentenced them to the rest of their eternal lives – and he tried not to look at the woman, afraid of what he might see there.

But then Kaito was striding forward, smiling widely at the girl as he leaned over until they were eye to eye. "Hello there. You're Haruka-chan, am I right?" He held out a fist, thumb flat across the curl of his fingers, and before Shinichi could blink, a bright white rose sprung from his hand, blindingly pure in the murkiness. Beaming, he extended the flower towards her. "Here you go."

Haruka gave a shriek of excitement as she reached for the flower, while her caretaker looked a little taken aback. Shinichi could only stare as Kaito straightened, glanced over at the woman, and magicked another flower into existence, this time a cream-colored daffodil. The woman flushed pink as she accepted it from him.

By now, the spectacle had attracted other spirits from their dwellings, a patchy crowd forming a semicircle around the four of them. Shinichi bit back his confusion – he didn't know how Kaito was going to be able to give flowers to all of them – but then Kaito threw his arms out wide, and fireworks erupted overhead. Everyone – including Shinichi – gasped at the sight of carmines and ochers and burgundies painting the dark sky with streaks of fizzing, sparkling color.

"Who are you?" Haruka asked, clutching her rose to her chest as she gazed up at Kaito with unabashed adoration.

"Kaito," Kaito answered, grinning at her as he reached out to ruffle her hair. There was a murmur of confusion amidst the other souls when he didn't elaborate, didn't offer an explanation of what he was god of, but Kaito distracted them with a shower of roses falling in lazy swirls from the sky. "And this," he gestured at Shinichi once everyone had begun to exclaim and smile at the roses, "is Shinichi."

Shinichi braced himself. There was an abrupt silence as the souls all gasped and cowered away, recognition blossoming across their faces as they looked fearfully at Shinichi. Kaito's smile dimmed slightly as he realized his mistake.

"Go on," Shinichi told him softly, taking a step back. He made sure he was cloaked in fog, just a mirage at the edge of Kaito's periphery. "Don't worry about me." Kaito nodded, but his expression was marred by a bemused frown.

For the rest of Kaito's impromptu magic show, Shinichi stood in the shadows, watching Kaito create color and glitter and beauty in the middle of his dreary, dead world, making the ever-growing crowd smile and laugh and sparkle, and wondered, a bit nonsensically, is this symbolism?

Contrary to popular belief, gods weren't entirely immortal. Yes, if they were killed, they could resurrect themselves after some time, and yes, they could, theoretically, hold whatever form they wanted for however long, but they also needed to sleep and eat in order to function fully, just like humans. The difference was just how frequently and how much.

While there were some gods who slept and ate as little possible, Shinichi was not one of them. He liked the routine feel of it, sleeping every night and taking two meals a day. It gave him some structure, and it also reminded him a bit of his pre-god of the dead years, when he had lived as an ordinary mortal might, going to school and making friends and keeping up with popular culture like any other kid. After an unfortunate dip in the river Lethe during his first year as god of the dead (it was Hattori's fault, unsurprisingly), Shinichi couldn't quite remember those days anymore – not clearly, at least; the few memories he still had were hazy, more like snapshots viewed through early morning mist than anything else – but he recalled enjoying himself, at least.

But anyway. Shinichi was in the middle of his pre-bed routine – a mental scan of the underworld, washing his face with the French jasmine soap his mother had brought during her last visit, silently questioning and reassessing the judgments he'd made earlier that day – when there was a knock on the door. Shinichi, bent over the bathroom sink, startled and accidentally got soap in his eye. As he straightening, clutching at his face, he wondered who it could be. His bedroom (and its adjacent bathroom) was located far from the main corridor, at the end of a snaking hallway lined with lit orbs. He'd chosen the room originally to discourage his mother from sneaking in and putting up fairy lights (and also because the bathroom included a hot tub that was more like a small pool).

"Who is it?" Shinichi called warily, drying his sudsy hands on a towel as he padded back into the bedroom.

There was an uncertain silence. Shinichi had begun to unbutton his shirt, deciding that it was just an errant servant who'd gotten lost or something, when a voice replied, "It's Kaito."

Head snapping up and hands stilling on his fourth button, Shinichi glanced over at the heavy ebony door, which stood silent and unhelpful under his gaze. If it had had shoulders, Shinichi felt it would've shrugged at him.

Why was Kaito here? They'd talked just yesterday; Shinichi couldn't imagine that he needed anything urgently. Lifting an eyebrow, Shinichi approached the door, then stopped abruptly as a thought struck him. A chill swept through him. Maybe – could it be Kaito was leaving and thought he needed to tell Shinichi? Or he needed Shinichi to create a portal back Above? That was the likeliest reason, Shinichi told himself. He couldn't help but grimace a little. He knew intellectually that Kaito would leave at some point, but – but he'd hoped he'd stay a little longer, maybe. Stupidly. Even though staying would be worse for Kaito, who'd probably get sick of being around Shinichi and Shinichi's dreary palace for too long.

Still frowning a little, Shinichi ran a hand through his hair, hoping he looked presentable (he probably didn't, considering it was the end of a long, long day), and said, "Come in," with as much courage as he could manage.

The door swung open slowly. Shinichi expected to see Kaito standing there, looking ready for travel – a pair of jeans, at least, maybe even a sweatshirt – with an apologetic smile on his face. What he was met with was Kaito clad in nothing but an oversized linen shirt and matching pants, hair ruffled like the feathers of a disgruntled bird and expression wide-eyed.

"Hi," he began a little breathlessly. Shinichi's brain was still struggling to catch up, trying to compute Kaito and my room and pajamas and failing pathetically, but he did manage a weak nod in response.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" Shinichi asked after he'd given up on ever fully using his brain again. "Is the underworld not treating you well?"

"No, no, it's not that," Kaito hurried to assure him, hesitantly creeping forward a few steps until Shinichi motioned for him to shut the door. Kaito complied with a soul-weary sigh, rubbing at his temples as he went. Shinichi noticed that the light he was emitting was the color of bathwater, dirty and a little clouded. "I just – I can't sleep."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Shinichi told him genuinely. "What's wrong? Have you been having bad dreams or something?" Guiltily, he thought about how sometimes, if a spirit or two was feeling a little vengeful, they liked to seep into the mind of someone who was sleeping and project whatever they were feeling into the person's dreams. Shinichi himself had been the victim of his fair share of those attacks. He hated to think of what the souls might've made Kaito see.

"No, nothing like that. It's just…" Kaito sighed again. "I don't know. The room seems too big and it feels cold and it's… I don't know, it feels a little – lonely, I guess, being alone. Sorry, it's stupid. I'm overreacting." He huffed out a little forlorn breath and looked away. It was the saddest thing Shinichi had ever witnessed, the way he bit at his bottom lip and scuffed one bare toe against the marble floor.

And because he was apparently weak and pathetic and a glutton for punishment, Shinichi blurted out, "You could stay here with me," before he could contain himself. He winced when Kaito's eyes jumped to his, surprised and wondering. "I mean," Shinichi floundered, searching for some excuse that would explain why he was practically propositioning the poor god, "if I'm here, it might be less lonely? Because you're not alone – er, you wouldn't be alone? We could maybe, I don't know, share the bed and sleep together." His eyes widened, because nonono that was not the place to go. "Not – wait – hold on, I didn't mean it in an untoward way. I didn't – I'm not – don't – Sorry, I'm just making it worse. I'm going to shut up now."

Throughout Shinichi's bumbling speech, though, Kaito had started to smile a little. By the end, he was grinning outright. Maybe it was just Shinichi, but he seemed to be glowing golden. "Don't worry, I'm not offended. Being propositioned by the King of the Dead is pretty flattering, if you ask me. Especially when he's as good looking as you."

Shinichi choked unflatteringly on his own saliva, hacking violently into his hand. When he had stopped wheezing, he glared halfheartedly at Kaito. "Don't tease," he grumbled, turning away to fuss with his shirt. Honestly, why.

"I wasn't teasing, Shinichi," Kaito insisted from behind him, and Shinichi swore under his breath and gave up on his shirt.

"Of course you weren't," he muttered before crossing the room to pull the duvet on the bed back and clamber onto the right side. He lifted his eyebrows at Kaito, trying not to look as if his stomach was churning (although it was). "You coming?"

The bed was wide, a large, bulky rectangle fitted with cotton and fleece sheets and a small army of pillows, but it felt smaller the moment Kaito slid into position beside Shinichi. Sure, there was half a meter of space between them when they lay down side by side, but the mattress seemed to sink in the middle, dragging the two of them together as if they were weak magnets. There was no way they wouldn't end up mashed into each other at some point during the night. Shinichi swallowed and flicked a hand so the light orbs floating in the corners of the room went dark.

"Good night, Shinichi," Kaito said in the still darkness, and Shinichi folded his hands on top of his chest in an effort not to reach out and touch him.

"Good night, Kaito," he replied, trying to sound as if he wasn't thinking about rolling over and wrapping himself around Kaito like an octopus.

In the morning, when he woke up tangled around Kaito in some kind of boating knot (Kaito fitted into the crook of his elbow, Shinichi's hand pressed flat to his chest, legs hooked around each other and Shinichi's nose tucked into the junction of Kaito's neck and shoulder), Shinichi despaired.

"Uh, Kudou?" Hattori stammered when he walked into the throne room a few days later. Shinichi glared at him – he still hadn't completely forgiven Hattori for the whole Kaito situation, and Hattori, who (despite being annoying, a literal generator of terrible ideas, and sort of an absolute idiot) actually did possess some modicum of intelligence, had disappeared quietly.

Shinichi was just beginning to recall a few of his more vivid fantasies of what he had been planning to do to Hattori when Hattori cleared his throat and pointed at the walls. "Um, Kudou? Hello? Are you listening?" He narrowed his eyes over at Shinichi. "The walls are, um, flowering."

"No they're not," Shinichi half-shouted, shifting uncomfortably on his throne. They weren't flowering; there were just some… spontaneous petaled plants of varying sizes and colors blooming on them. And Shinichi had nothing to do with the flowers. It wasn't as if Kaito had made an offhand comment about how even though the palace was "pretty," he almost missed seeing camellias and tulips during the last time Shinichi had just happened to talk to him. None of that was related to this at all. Shinichi hadn't spent three hours scouring the dusty three-floor library in the east wing of the palace for a book on nature magic. He hadn't gotten fixated on trying his hardest to make Kaito happy, especially after the other night when Kaito had been so drawn and gray. He hadn't. Shut up. "Shut up," he repeated aloud for emphasis.

Hattori was eyeing a red amaryllis that was sprouting steadily out of a delicate crack in the wall by Shinichi's ear. "This has something to do with Kuroba, doesn't it." It wasn't a question.

"Would you believe me if I said no?" Shinichi tried.

Shaking his head, Hattori plucked a daisy out from between two floor tiles. He rolled the stem between his fingers, making the petals spin like a pinwheel. "This is a little sad," he muttered under his breath, not quietly enough that Shinichi didn't hear. Shinichi silently revived his plan to eviscerate Hattori and then scatter his remains across the world. "You do realize that he's going to have to leave eventually, right? He can't just stay down here. He belongs Above."

"I know," Shinichi mumbled, looking away. The chrysanthemum his gaze fell on immediately withered and died, dissolving into a pile of ghost-pale ash before it blew away on a breeze. Shinichi quickly looked away.

He knew, logically, that Kaito would have to leave, that he needed to leave. He probably should've left by now, if Shinichi was being honest with himself. It'd been days since Kaito had first come down here. The gods Above were probably wondering where Kaito had gone, and it was only a matter of time before someone actually bothered to scry him and realized where he was. The Land of the Dead, after all, was kind of distinctive as far as décor went.

But the thing was that – well, Shinichi liked having Kaito around. As he'd mentioned, he'd had an insignificant, miniscule crush on Kaito for a long time, of course, and having him around, cheerful and teasing and just so fundamentally good certainly wasn't helping that. Shinichi knew Kaito had gone back out to the Fields of Asphodel to give another magic show; he knew Kaito had gone to the gates to welcome souls in; he knew Kaito had taken Cerberus for a walk yesterday. The entire underworld was brighter with him there, as if Kaito was the sun that had been missing for eons.

Shinichi groaned, shutting his eyes as he let his head clunk back against the top of the throne. He was getting poetic. He hadn't gotten poetic since – since – he'd never gotten poetic, come to think of it. Yet another reason why Kaito was frustrating him so much.

"I think this is the first time I've seen you pining," Hattori remarked, sounding awed, and Shinichi cracked open an eye to glare at him.

"I didn't hire you for your sass, Hattori," he grumbled, and Hattori shrugged.

"Must've been my stunning good looks and sparkling wit, then."

"I honestly hate you," Shinichi mumbled, and Hattori laughed. He was bending down to snatch a pale pink rose out of the floor when the huge double doors at the end of the throne room creaked open. Shinichi jerked into a sitting position, expecting another messy procession of freshly-dead souls to come surging in, but it was only Kaito.

Well, not only Kaito. Only and Kaito didn't exactly belong in the same sentence, at least not in Shinichi's mind.

The first words out of Kaito's mouth were "Shinichi, is this…" He trailed off, eyes huge and awed beneath the twin curves of his eyebrows as he traced a hand reverently over the carpeting of flowers. "You – this is amazing." He tore his gaze away from a patch of hydrangeas to smile breathlessly at Shinichi. It was like looking directly into the sun; it made Shinichi feel too hot, as if he were about to incinerate, but also made him aware of just how small and dull he was, so tiny and gloomy and boring.

"What can I say," he managed, clearing his throat. "I'm one of the most powerful gods, supposedly." Hattori sniggered. Shinichi hurled a lily at his face. It hit his cheek with a satisfying smack.

"Yes, you are," Kaito breathed, oblivious. He dragged a finger along the flared edge of a carnation petal. "This is incredible. I guess it's not just your palace and your face. You're incredible." He said that last bit in a hushed tone, as if it were some kind of secret for the two of them.

Shinichi turned red. The flowers all turned with him, coloring the walls and floor scarlet. Hattori – some best friend he was – laughed uncontrollably.

"You're so whipped," he snorted, and Shinichi, with daunting horror, realized that Hattori was actually right for once. He was completely besotted.

It was too bad Kaito was going to have to leave soon, Shinichi thought a bit wistfully as Kaito began weaving a flower crown, then forced himself to stop that line of thinking. No. It was a good thing. Kaito would leave and Shinichi would stop growing flowers out of the walls trying to impress him.

(It was hard to remember that when Kaito made a sound of triumph and ran up to the throne just to drop a circlet of red roses on his head, grinning all the while. Shinichi wore it through five more processions of souls and only took it off when he went to bed that night.)

A day later, Shinichi woke up with the horrifying realization that he had never told Kaito about the food thing, the "if you eat food from the underworld you're stuck here for, like, eternity" thing. He'd been so caught up in Kaito and all of his glory that he hadn't even thought about it.

Breathing quickly, Shinichi teleported into Kaito's room, which could have potentially been very, very awkward, but the room Kaito had been staying in was empty, the bed, adjoining bath, and little library corner all devoid of a glowing god.

"Shit," Shinichi muttered under his breath, scanning the room for any clues as to where Kaito must've gone. He found none, and, panic rising at the back of his throat, Shinichi started for the kitchens. If he had any luck, the chefs wouldn't have given Kaito any food even if he asked; maybe they'd known about the whole "eat food from the underworld and get stuck there for eternity" thing –

Skidding to a stop outside the scullery, Shinichi pushed into the kitchen, ignoring the surprised, "Oh, your Majesty!" that a tiny, dirty-dish-laden girl squeaked at the sight of him. He looked around the room frantically, trying to catch a glimpse of someone glowing –

There, by a white-clad man who was chopping up an onion and sobbing theatrically (more dramatically than a single onion warranted, at least). Kaito was holding something red – from this distance, it looked like a pomegranate, or perhaps a large apple. Shinichi's breath hitched.

He had teleported across the room before he was fully aware of what he was doing, grabbing Kaito's wrist. Kaito made a surprised sound, dropping the – oh, it was a pomegranate – and spluttering a bit. "Shinichi? What are you doing here?"

"Did you eat this?" Shinichi demanded. He knew he probably looked a bit unhinged, considering he was holding Kaito's arm in a vicelike grip and waving part of a pomegranate in the other, but he was kind of panicking, okay. "Did you eat this?"

"Uh," and Kaito was looking at him with concern, eyebrows drawn together, "no, not yet?"

Exhaling hard, Shinichi let the pomegranate fall onto the counter with a wet thump. "Oh, good." He felt his blood pressure lowering by the second.

"I mean, I don't have to eat it if you don't want me to," Kaito continued, slowly. His eyes searched Shinichi, probably wondering if Shinichi was about to have some kind of divine breakdown in the middle of the kitchen. "I'm not even that hungry anymore. I ate, like, four pancakes earlier."

Everything went cold. "Kaito," Shinichi began, slowly, "what pancakes?"

"Oh, those pancakes." Kaito waved a hand in the direction of the stoves. He was still regarding Shinichi with worry. "Your chefs are really good, Shinichi. The food down here is better than the ambrosia they serve at those stupid galas Above. I mean, ambrosia's good, but human food's pretty awesome too."

Shinichi was fairly certain his world was imploding. "You ate the food." His voice was hollow to his own ears. "You ate the food. Kaito."

"Well, I've been eating the food," Kaito agreed with a shrug, as if he hadn't doomed himself to all eternity in the underworld. The smile on his face was hesitant, barely there. "What? Was I not supposed to?"

"Kaito," Shinichi ground out – he sounded a bit as if he was sobbing, embarrassingly enough, but at the moment he was too busy trying not to set everything on fire. "Kaito, you're – you're going to be stuck here. In the underworld. Forever." He was grabbing at his own hair, gripping handfuls of it. "I can't believe – I should've said something earlier; how could I have forgotten, I'm so sorry –"

"Whoa, calm down." Kaito reached out to place a hand on Shinichi's shoulder. It was warm and soft and probably should've been comforting, but Shinichi was halfway to hyperventilating and unable to fully appreciate it. "Look, it's all right. I don't mind."

Gasping, Shinichi lifted his head to look at Kaito askance. "You don't – you don't mind?" This was the worst. Kaito didn't even understand what he had done to himself. "Kaito, you're – you belong Above. Not – you're going to waste away here, and you're going to hate me, and – this is no place for you."

"What are you even saying?" Kaito demanded, the faintest hint of mystification poisoning his expression, and Shinichi just shook his head. The thing was Shinichi was right. Gods as bright as Kaito weren't made for the Land of the Dead. Shinichi didn't think he'd be able to watch that, seeing Kaito slowly extinguish the longer he was trapped here with Shinichi, the slow death of a candle in an airless room. It was the worst kind of torture. And it was all because Shinichi hadn't bothered to tell him, because Shinichi was stupid and so infatuated with Kaito that he'd forgotten all common sense; it was all Shinichi's fault –

Shinichi shrugged Kaito's hand off, taking a step back. Kaito looked a bit hurt, but Shinichi barely noticed around the horror collecting, thick and suffocating, at the back of his throat. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, eyes downcast, and practically ran from the room.

So Shinichi wasn't avoiding Kaito, per se. He just… conveniently had other things to attend to whenever Kaito asked to see him.

At first, it wasn't even on purpose. Hattori appeared in the throne room while Shinichi was in the middle of judging an ex-drug dealer who swore she was going to do better in the afterlife, asking Shinichi to go "take care of Kaito if you could, please, thank you." Shinichi looked (halfway thankfully) at the long, never-ending line of souls and told Hattori that Kaito would have to wait.

But Shinichi had enough integrity to admit that the second, third, fourth, etc. times were less coincidental. He'd found some complicated reasons to explain why he couldn't meet Kaito the next day, and the next day and the next. It had gotten to the point that Shinichi wasn't entirely sure what reason he'd already used.

And Shinichi knew he was in the wrong and that he'd have to face Kaito sooner or later – after all, he thought bitterly, Kaito was going to be around for a long time – but he just… it wasn't something he wanted to do, okay, and if Shinichi could put it off even for just a little bit longer, he would. He didn't know what Kaito wanted to say to him – he didn't even know if Kaito had realized the magnitude of his problem just yet – and because of that, he didn't want to know. It was probably going to be Kaito shouting at him for not telling him about the whole food situation earlier.

In the end, Shinichi wasn't even surprised when Hattori cornered him in the throne room after he'd finished judging another boatload of souls. It made sense, after all. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't put it off forever. Dread still filled his stomach, though, and made him shrink against the throne.

"Are you going to make me –"

"You're going to talk to Kuroba," Hattori announced, stabbing a finger at Shinichi viciously. He lifted his eyebrows, daring Shinichi to argue. "And you're going to sort out whatever's happened, because both of you are stupid for each other and it's getting annoying to see you two moping around." With that, Hattori turned to the double doors, and, with a snap of his fingers, had them swinging open to reveal Kaito standing there uncomfortably.

"Hattori –" Shinichi began, trying not flinch, but Hattori glared at him and disappeared in a pop of smoke. Some best friend he was.

"Shinichi." Kaito approached the throne carefully. His light was pale heather gray, wrapped around him like a cloak. "I think there's been some confusion about what's happened, and we really need to talk about it before this gets any worse."

"I think it's pretty obvious what happened," Shinichi disagreed quietly, straightening and forcing himself to meet Kaito's eyes. "I neglected to tell you vital information, and as a result, you're a prisoner here. I would understand if you didn't want to talk to me again –"

"You're not listening," Kaito interrupted, sounding vaguely nettled. He stopped at the foot of the dais, staring up at Shinichi plaintively. "Look, Shinichi, I – I knew about what eating the food down here does. Everyone knows. I knew, and I ate it on purpose."

It felt as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice over Shinichi's head. "Wh – What?" That… that would almost imply that –

"Do you remember when I first got here?" Kaito asked. His voice had gone soft, a little reverent. His expression was so earnest it was almost painful to look at. "I told you I wanted to stay here because I'd heard the palace was really nice or something like that. That was a lie. Nobody ever calls the palace nice – though I don't know why they don't, but that's not the point. I said that so you'd let me stay down here."

"You're…" Shinichi cleared his throat, trying to assume a more regal and less bewildered air as he gripped the arms of the throne. "You're going to need to explain a bit more, because it almost sounds as if you've wanted to stay in the underworld –"

"I did. I do," Kaito cut in, looking a little guilty. He swallowed – Shinichi's eyes followed the sinuous curve of his throat, then felt dirty for doing it. "I – well, not necessarily. I didn't want to stay in the underworld; I wanted to stay with you."

For a moment, Shinichi was legitimately speechless. Words refused to form cohesive sentences within his head, instead floating around in useless loops and twirls and parabolas. Stay with you. I wanted. Underworld.

"I wasn't planning on telling you," Kaito mumbled, eyes skittering away from Shinichi's. "I was planning on making it look like an accident or something. Not like I'd done it on purpose. Just so it wouldn't feel so – I don't know, forced. But then you flipped out."

"Wait, hold on," Shinichi found himself saying. "What – why do you want to stay with me?"

Kaito bite his bottom lip, trapping it between the clench of his teeth as he stared up at Shinichi. "Do you remember your human life? Well, not your human life, obviously, but the way you lived before they let you become god of the dead?" When Shinichi shook his head numbly, Kaito sighed. "Well, I do. I was born about the same time as you, and we lived sort of close together. Different parts of Tokyo, I guess. I used to host these little magic shows around town – not, like, proper magic – obviously I couldn't show that to the mortals – but stage magic. You know, with cards and birds and stuff. You used to come watch the shows. Every time I had one, you were there, no matter where they were. We weren't really friends – I didn't even know your name – but you'd always show up. I never really knew why, but I liked that you seemed to care. I liked knowing I made you happy or entertained you or something. And then one day you disappeared. I thought you must've moved to a different city or something, but then I heard we'd gotten a new god of the dead and when I saw you, I realized that you'd been a god all along, just living a human life like I had been. Ever since, I've been trying to find some way to tell you about how I – how I feel, and when Hattori pulled up in the chariot, I took my chance."

"I…" Shinichi's throat had gone dry somewhere in the middle of Kaito's speech. He forced himself to swallow. "I… you… is that why you helped me at that party? When Hattori was all messed up on ambrosia?"

"You remember?" Kaito smiled, quicksilver and beautiful. "It was the first time I ever talked to you."

"Of course I remember, that's when I –" Shinichi cut himself off. There was no need to freak Kaito out even more with declarations of adoration. He looked down into his lap. "It was an important moment for me," he finally admitted, quiet and hushed. He felt himself flush up his neck and squirmed, trying to make his skin stop feeling as if it were on fire.

"Me too," Kaito agreed, equally soft, before he smiled a little. "So now that you understand why I did everything, will you stop blaming yourself? I wanted this, because I want you."

"Oh," Shinichi said in a small voice. He was definitely bright red at this point. "I…" He cleared his throat, searching in vain for something to say. "Are you sure?"

There was a pause. "You know," Kaito began, eyebrows knitting together, "you seem to be under the impression that I'm perfect or something. You act like you're afraid you're going to corrupt me or something if I stay around you too long. But I don't think you understand that I'm not some naïve, innocent god who doesn't know what's happening, and I don't think you understand that you're not some completely evil dictator who ruins everything he touches." His lips twitched upwards. "I was sure of that the moment I saw you trying to take care of your drunk friend. And then when you gave me a tour of the palace and when you comforted me when I couldn't sleep and when you grew flowers out of the walls just because I said I'd missed them. You're not all bad, Shinichi, no matter what you've convinced yourself."

Shinichi bit back his instinctive response that yes, he was, Kaito should know that better than anyone, considering he'd seen the Fields and the misery Shinichi had caused, seen how much everyone feared and hated him. He looked away, staring resolutely into his lap.

Kaito heaved a sigh, and suddenly there were hands, smooth and almost hot, cupping his cheeks and lifting his face upwards until Shinichi was staring directly into Kaito's eyes. "I've been to the Fields of Asphodel, Shinichi. You know I have. And you've done the best you could've done with the judgments. Sure, people aren't happy when they first get there, because everyone always thinks they've done something worthy of Elysium, but once they get used to it, people do end up happy. It just takes a little time." His thumb roved across the crest of Shinichi's cheek as his eyes searched Shinichi's. "You're not a horrible person, Shinichi. Do you believe me?"

"Do you want me to lie?" Shinichi answered, feeling utterly trapped beneath Kaito's gaze. His heart was doing strange things in his chest, flipping and stumbling and generally making him feel lightheaded and hyperaware.

Shaking his head, Kaito leaned in even closer. He exhaled, breath ghosting across Shinichi's lips. "I guess it's good that I have an eternity to convince you, then," he murmured, and then Shinichi couldn't stand it and he surged up to kiss him, lifting his hands to card through Kaito's hair gently.

He felt a little less like a villain with Kaito's fingers curled around his jaw and Kaito's mouth against his.

Yukiko blinked as she looked around the throne room. The flowers had regrown, an eye-catching spectrum of reds and pinks and blues carpeting every flat surface, and a window had been cut out from the back wall, allowing a pool of dim light to fall across the throne. She gave an appreciative whistle. "Did you get an interior decorator with your Consort of the Dead, Shin-chan?"

"Mom," Shinichi groaned, sinking down in his throne. Why had he even bothered to invite her, honestly? They could've had the consort ceremony without here. Sure, it probably wasn't traditional for the mother of a groom to be missing from the god equivalent of a royal wedding ceremony, but sometimes traditions needed to be amended. Especially taking Yukiko into account.

"Oh, I got it!" Yukiko practically shrieked, face lighting up. "Him being around makes you want to grow flowers out of the walls!" She squealed in a manner most unbefitting an ancient goddess. "It's so romantic."

Shinichi put his face in his hands and groaned.

He still had his fingers pressed against his eyes when the door to the throne room creaked open. Kaito poked his head in, and Shinichi's breath caught – he was resplendent in the customary ceremonial Consort of the Dead uniform (a white suit, cape, and top hat combination that would look absolutely ridiculous on anyone else), and okay, maybe tradition wasn't so bad. "Shinichi? Are you ready to – oh. Yukiko." He smiled. "How are you?"

"Kai-chan, you look so handsome!" Yukiko cooed, clutching her hands to her heart. "I can't believe this happened! Such a whirlwind romance." She swayed dramatically.

Meanwhile, Shinichi had crossed the room, cutting a wide circle around Yukiko and her swooning, to loop his arms around Kaito's neck. "Hi," he whispered, grinning dopily and uncontrollably, and Kaito beamed back at him, ducking in to kiss him lightly. Shinichi pushed forward, deepening the kiss until Kaito was pliant against him.

"Right, right, plenty of time for that later," Yukiko interrupted, abruptly materializing between them and forcing Shinichi to let go of Kaito. Shinichi glared at her, put out. She was unrepentant. "Save something for tonight."

"A bit too late for that," Kaito remarked cheekily, to Shinichi's scandalized blush and Yukiko's squawk of delight.

"You're not so bad, Kai-chan," she decided, patting him on the shoulder. Kaito grinned at her. "I think we'll like having you in the family. Oh, and being mothers-in-law with Chikage with be so fun!" She clapped, laughing cheerfully. "Well, let's get a move on! I think your father's just arrived, Shin-chan. Let's go greet him." She winked at both of them before disappearing in a blaze of pink smoke.

For a moment, Shinichi and Kaito just gaped after her, which was generally the reaction Yukiko elicited.

Eventually, though, Kaito shrugged and wrapped an arm around Shinichi's waist. "Ready?" he asked.

Shinichi looked at Kaito, looked at the way his mouth tilted higher on one side when he smiled and the twinkle in his eyes and the content golden glow he wore like an overcoat, looked at the way his arm fit around Shinichi and the fit of his uniform and the warm affection in his every mannerism. Shinichi still hadn't found an adjective that described him perfectly.

"Ready," he answered.

Anyway. Hope you enjoyed that somewhat (if you did, please considering dropping me a review!) and I'll see you all soon! - Luna