Hey everyone! Sorry for the long wait. Like I mentioned last time, I'm still trying to decide if I want to stay in the fandom or maybe move on. I'm considering writing some original stories, too, so let me know if you might be interested in reading that kind of thing.

Warnings include shounen-ai, grammar mistakes / general errors, a distinct lack of plot, etc. Yeah.

Enjoy! - Luna

Refractive Error

The whole thing starts out innocently enough.

It's late, nearly two in the morning. Kaito's just gotten home after a heist that he, in his excellent "doing this incredibly stupid thing will definitely not make me feel as if I've been put through a meat grinder when all's said and done" judgment, scheduled right after a sold-out show. He's lying lengthwise across the couch, his socked feet propped up on the opposite armrest, and he's in the process of loosening his tie around his neck. He has the vague impression that he must've lost his jacket somewhere, because he's not wearing it, but he has no idea where. The entry, if he's lucky.

Shinichi is somewhere underneath his hip. Kaito can tell because Shinichi has deplorably bony elbows, and one of them is jammed into Kaito's kidney, possibly on purpose. By the time Kaito got home, Shinichi had already been melting into the couch (he had gotten in somewhat earlier because he'd hitched a ride with Nakamori after the heist; Kaito had had to clean up the heist location before he hang glider-ed all the way back to Beika), but Kaito hadn't bothered asking Shinichi to move before he sprawled all over him. After five years of best friendship, all common human courtesy has gone out the window and died a sad death on the street below before a semi ran over it at full speed and that metaphor got gruesome quick, which means Kaito has been spending too much time around Shinichi and Shinichi's police drama obsession. What else is new, though?

There's a rustling sound somewhere beneath/behind him, followed by a frowny-sounding hum. Kaito contorts to see what's wrong and gets Shinichi's knee to his spine for his trouble.

"Ow," he croaks before he manages to sit up ungracefully, forced to bend his legs in a way he's sure no human was meant to attempt. He tries to stomp on Shinichi's wrist as he goes, but Shinichi dodges him without blinking because he's actually an android. Kaito sighs, rubbing at his eyes. "What's wrong?"

Shinichi is squinting pensively at a stack of papers in his hand. They're perfectly uncreased, somehow. Kaito doesn't know how Shinichi managed that, considering that Kaito put a lot of effort into squashing him thoroughly. But then again, Kaito doesn't know how Shinichi manages a lot of things, such as having a snarky comment available at any given moment and looking hot even after running a literal marathon to catch a serial arsonist, which Kaito has the pictures to prove.

"I can't read," Shinichi says, sounding grumpy. Now he's glaring at the papers, which is adorable to watch but probably not that helpful.

"That explains a lot about you," Kaito nods sagely. Shinichi stabs him in the liver with one of his unreasonably pointy fingers without even looking.

"No, but seriously," he insists, bringing the paper closer to his face. "It's really hard to read these. The letters are all blurry."

"Maybe you need to get your eyes checked," wheezes Kaito, clutching at his side. He's pretty sure this is what being shot feels like.

"I think I will," Shinichi agrees. He sets the papers on the ground, cracks his neck, and unfolds Kaito's legs until Kaito finds himself back in his stretched-out position. And then Shinichi yawns and burrows into Kaito's chest. For a guy who gets weird and cagey about sharing utensils, he has no sense of personal space, at least not when it comes to Kaito. It's not as if Kaito's complaining, though. He'll take whatever he can get from Shinichi.

Kaito forgets all about the whole eyesight thing by the next morning, when he wakes up smooshed against Shinichi on their too-small couch. Shinichi's hair, which somehow smells like jasmine tea and intellect, is in his face, and Shinichi himself is clinging to Kaito like a particularly determined octopus/limpet hybrid. It takes Kaito nearly five minutes to extricate himself, start the coffeemaker, and take a cold shower (for reasons). Shinichi gets up thirty minutes later and trudges around looking like a reawakened corpse until Kaito forces two cups of coffee into him, and then Shinichi showers and goes to work and Kaito leaves to stage-manage at the local theater. It's business as usual.

When fate and Touto University's roommate-assigning algorithm deigned to have a sense of humor, Kaito ended up sharing a dorm with newly-returned, too-intelligent-for-mere-mortals Kudou Shinichi, who took one look at Kaito and went, "Hi, Kid," without even batting one ridiculously long eyelash. He then set to work putting up an alarming number of Sherlock-related posters with thumbtacks, serenely ignoring Kaito and Kaito's family of boxes.

"Don't do that; you'll ruin the walls," Kaito squawked in outrage before he handed Shinichi his own supply of poster putty. Shinichi gave him a contemplative look, nodded once, and then went back to his posters. Ten minutes later, he asked Kaito if he wanted to go out for ramen, and they did. Shinichi got tonkotsu ramen and Kaito got yakisoba. That was the origin story of the much mocked (yet much revered) Kudou-Kuroba friendship.

It was actually pretty anticlimactic, as far as heartwarming friendship stories went. Kaito realized that five years later, when they were moving into Shinichi's family's gigantic mansion.

"Did you ever stop to think that we bonded over poster adhesive?" he demanded as he shoved a stack of plates behind the dusty blender and hoped Shinichi wouldn't notice. (He really didn't understand the Kudou family's plate organization system. He thought it might involve color-coding. Kaito sometimes wondered how Shinichi had turned out as well as he had, all things considered.) "That was how we became friends. That was how we decided we would get along, even with the whole Kid thing."

Shinichi, who had disappeared beneath the sink to do something mysterious with the pipes, poked his head back out to narrow his eyes suspiciously at him. There was a streak of dark, sticky-looking grease across his nose, and he was squinting as if there was dust in his eyes. Kaito unfortunately found it cute, as he did most things related to Kudou Shinichi. "Is that supposed to be a pun? Bonding and poster adhesive?"

"That was unintentional," Kaito told him regretfully. Shinichi sighed and ducked back down. As much as he claimed to hate puns, he was a closet pun enthusiast. He couldn't fool Kaito.

"No, but really think about it. I'm actually disappointed that we didn't end up archenemies or something. That would've been more dramatic, at least," Kaito said over some questionable clattering and muted swearing from beneath the sink. He hopped up onto the kitchen counter, swinging his legs idly.

"Get down," Shinichi said without emerging from beneath the sink. Kaito complied with a pout that Shinichi didn't even bother to glance at. "I don't know about you, but I'm fine with how things turned out. I think I'd rather be friends with you than archrivals or whatever."

"Sometimes you say the sweetest things," Kaito sighed. It was times like these that he was reminded of just why he was so pathetically enamored of Shinichi. True, it wasn't a hard thing to remember, when Shinichi was always doing things like getting front-row tickets to Kaito's shows and helping him plan heists over breakfast, but the additional reminders never hurt.

There was a loud clunking sound like a car backfiring. Shinichi slithered back out, looking disgruntled as he glanced around the kitchen. "Kaito, can you find me a wrench?" He eyed the plates half-hidden behind the blender. "Also, put the plates away. Do you think I'm blind?"

"Not at all," Kaito chirped and wandered off to find a wrench and the plate catalogue thing. Eventually, Shinichi got so frustrated that he threw the wrench across the room, denting the refrigerator, and sulked in the unfurnished living room as Kaito called a plumber. Then they had a Ghibli marathon and Kaito accidentally burned the popcorn, but Shinichi didn't seem to notice or care, as invested in Howl's Moving Castle as he was. After that, they went to bed in their separate rooms and Kaito had a dream in which he adopted a border collie with Shinichi. It was a good night.

That's how their relationship has always been – easy and comfortable, the kind of domestic harmony that he knows everyone secretly wants. Kaito wouldn't trade it for anything. There's just something about them that fits together; they're like a two-piece puzzle, the halves of the same heart. It sounds so stupid and flowery when Kaito says it like that, but it's all he can think whenever he looks at Shinichi, that they fit.

A few weeks later, Kaito walks unsuspectingly into the kitchen after scoping out a possible heist location, trying to find something to drink. He tosses his jacket at the kitchen table, where Shinichi is sitting with several forests' worth of paper files spread out in front of him. His jacket lands squarely in Shinichi's lap. Unsurprisingly, Shinichi turns to give him one of his patented Disappointed Kudou Shinichi looks. Shinichi is predictable.

Shinichi is wearing glasses.

Kaito's mouth goes dry. He stares blankly at Shinichi for about three minutes too long before his brain kicks into overdrive and he backs out of the kitchen. He bangs his hip into the counter as he goes and trips over his own feet, but his heart is pounding fast enough to power a city block and there's a litany of shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit going through his head. He can't be bothered to slow down, even when Shinichi calls, "Um?" with a distinct note of what the hell is happening to you in his voice.

"I'm fine!" Kaito croaks before he has a mental breakdown in the middle of their living room. Oh God, he just had a thoroughly inappropriate reaction to seeing Shinichi in glasses, considering the whole Conan/Clark Kent deal from before. He's pretty sure there's something intensely Freudian and messed up about this.

Because the last time Kaito saw Shinichi in glasses, Shinichi was six. And now, seeing Shinichi in glasses makes Kaito want to – to impugn Shinichi's virtue even more than usual. There's something definitely questionable about that.

"Is something wrong?" Shinichi asks. He's migrated to the doorway at some point during Kaito's mental breakdown. Kaito does not flinch when they make eye contact. He may – twitch, slightly, but that's all. Shinichi's eyebrows are making a pilgrimage towards his hairline. His glasses remain resolutely present.

"There's – you – glasses," Kaito eventually manages, reverting to caveman speech, which is embarrassing, but he's mostly just relieved that he can even exert control over his vocal chords at the moment.

"Oh, right." Shinichi blinks and pushes the frames up his face. It's literally nothing – everyone with glasses does that – but Kaito is so revoltingly charmed by it that he feels some of his brain cells sputtering to death. "I finally got my eyes checked. I've been having trouble reading lately, did I mention that? Anyway, I've apparently gotten a little nearsighted, so I have to wear glasses now." Shinichi smirks and leans against the doorframe, a long, graceful line of muscle and – and glasses. Kaito wildly tries to turn his brain off, to no avail. "It's kind of funny, don't you think? You know, since there was the whole Conan thing and all. I used to wear glasses as a disguise, and now I actually have to. Ironic."

"Ironic. Yeah," Kaito agrees in a mumble. He takes a step backwards.

"It's really not that surprising," Shinichi says slowly. He's eyeing Kaito cautiously, looking a little concerned. "My dad has pretty bad eyesight, after all. So, you know. There's a genetic component."

"Uh, right." Kaito nods. "I'm – just, uh, going, to – go. Now." He coughs. "I have a – thing. With." He racks his brain for a convenient name. "Aoko?"

"Yeah. Sure. Are you okay?" Shinichi asks, blinking his stupid eyelashes behind his stupid glasses, and Kaito makes a sound like an unoiled door hinge and trips over nothing on his way back out.

The worst part is that Kaito can't even think of a logical reason (other than the horrible Conan one, but he's trying to pretend that one doesn't exist) why he would be so utterly ridiculous over Shinichi in glasses. He doesn't really think glasses make people look smarter or more intelligent or whatever, and anyway, there's no way that he could imagine Shinichi being any smarter than he already is. And Kaito's not really one for teacher or librarian fantasies, so… he's at a loss.

He explains all of this to Aoko in lurid detail when he turns up unannounced at her house. By the time he's done, Aoko looks slightly seasick. She sets Momoko – her tiny, squishy one-year-old who's so adorable that Kaito is slightly suspicious of her actually being related to Hakuba in any way – on the ground to let her roam free before she turns to give Kaito the kind of look that usually precedes a lecture.

"So what you're telling me," she begins, folding her hands in front of her in a terrifying principal-y way that Kaito swears she didn't know how to do until she had a kid, "is that you have a thing for Kudou-kun in glasses."

"Yeah, but it's weird," Kaito whines, swinging his legs and regretting it when he accidentally bashes his leg against the side of Momoko's highchair. Through the pain (seriously, are highchairs made of solid diamond these days?), he wheezes, "Because of the – the Conan thing. Don't you think it's weird?"

Momoko crawls under the table and launches a violent assault on Kaito's left foot, one that Kaito bears with good grace, even when teeth are introduced to the equation. Aoko absently reaches for her, and then apparently decides it's too much effort to stop her from amputating Kaito's foot. She straightens, resting her face in her hands as she raises her eyebrows at Kaito. "Don't you think you're overthinking this a little? Maybe it's a purely aesthetic appreciation." Aoko shrugs. "Some people just look good in glasses. There's no deeper psychological meaning."

"But what if there is," Kaito hisses, scrabbling at the crayon-strewn tabletop. "What if this is a sign that I'm actually a massive, massive creep?"

"Then you're not allowed to see Momoko anymore," Aoko answers primly, even though they both know she's bluffing. Aoko loves her kid-free date nights, and Kaito loves Momoko, despite that half her genetic makeup was contributed by the world's greatest asshole. Also, Momoko adores Shinichi to the point that Kaito experiences some uncomfortable, incredibly irrational jealousy, and everyone knows Kaito and Shinichi come in a package.

"But seriously," Aoko says after a moment, filled only by the soggy sounds of Kaito's sock slowly melting in toddler saliva, "you're worrying too much about this. Having a – er – appreciation for Kudou-kun in glasses doesn't mean anything except for that." A sadistic gleam enters her eyes, and Kaito recoils in horror. "And hey, now that you can't even look at him without getting turned on, maybe you'll finally end up saying something to him instead of playing at being best friends."

Kaito glares sullenly. Momoko gurgles and bites his ankle.

When Kaito slouches through the front door around ten that night, Shinichi is waiting for him. He's still wearing the glasses, of course, but he's also curled up on the couch in the cat-printed pajamas Kaito got him as a joke for his last birthday, his hair tousled and wet and a cup of tea in his hand. When Kaito slumps through the door, Shinichi just looks at him, leaning against the back of the couch.

"Are you going to explain what happened earlier?" he asks without preamble. Kaito feels a strong urge to flee to Siberia.

Instead, he swallows and tries to smile in a somewhat normal manner. Shinichi's frown only deepens, which means Kaito is probably not succeeding. "It was nothing. The glasses were just a bit of a surprise."

"Oh." Shinichi reaches up to touch them hesitantly. His expression is hard to read, equal parts concerned and confused. Kaito doesn't know what to think, especially since his brain has been replaced with what feels like a much disorganized hornet's nest. "I would've told you that I was getting glasses earlier, but I didn't think it was that important." He shrugs and adjusts his glasses, which flash accusingly in the light. Kaito wants to die.

"You're right. I just overreacted. They're not important at all," he agrees as airily as he can. He throws himself down on the sofa beside Shinichi, making Shinichi's tea slosh dangerously in his mug, but for once, Shinichi doesn't glare at him or even bring out one of his many scowls. He's too busy not making eye contact with Kaito, staring down into his lap instead.

"I could get contacts," he says to the gray cat printed on the knee of his pajama pants.

"Could you?" Kaito wonders how much relief is obvious in his voice, but it must be a lot, because Shinichi breaks his staring contest with his knee to cast him a questioning look. Kaito backtracks. "I heard that glasses can be inconvenient to clean, like, when you get a fingerprint on the lens. And also when you're drinking something hot or when it's raining or when you want to wear sunglasses or… yeah." He trails off weakly. Shinichi is watching him with a strangely reserved, almost sad look in his eyes. Kaito abruptly feels wrong-footed, as if he's said something terribly insensitive, and tries to think of what he should say to fix whatever he's done. He gets the feeling that he'll only make it worse if he opens his mouth again, though. In the end, he just sits there, staring at Shinichi (and his glasses) like a modified ape.

"All right," Shinichi says during Kaito's moment of crippling indecision. He draws his knees up to his chest and takes a sip of his tea. "I'll go see about getting some contacts fitted. It'll take a few weeks to order them, probably." The smile he offers Kaito over the rim of his cup is inscrutable. "You'll just have to deal with me looking like this until then, I guess."

"Oh, don't worry about me," Kaito replies. "I think I'll manage somehow." Somehow, he thinks despairingly as Shinichi nods and drains his cup. His glasses, predictably, fog up, and Kaito is forced to watch as Shinichi makes a surprised sound and spends the next five minutes trying to wipe them off on his shirt.

Before Kaito met Shinichi, he was always confused about why so many magazines targeted at teen girls seemed to stalk Shinichi so religiously. While yes, even Kaito could tell that Shinichi was revoltingly good-looking, he sort of thought that Shinichi's personality overrode any physical attraction one might feel for him. (Yes, Kaito realizes just how ironic that statement is, considering how his life turned out.) And anyway, why would anyone decide a homicide detective was a good role model/celebrity crush for teenage girls, anyway?

But Kaito's gotten used to it, seeing Shinichi's face plastered all over aggressively pink magazines with titles like Pop! or LoveBeautyHeart or whatever. It's still kind of surreal, but it doesn't surprise him anymore. Shinichi just sort of shrugs it off. Apparently he's been dealing with the media frenzy about him since he was sixteen, so.

Kaito's walking home from the theater when he sees something glossy lying on the sidewalk. Upon closer inspection, it turns out to be a copy of something called RED, and it features a candid shot of Shinichi on the front cover. He's wearing his glasses, of course, and he's bent over a strip of crime scene tape, mouth partially open as he says something. Next to the photo, in luminous red writing, is the caption KUDOU SHINICHI WITH GLASSES: YES OR NO? PG. 21.

It's pretty obvious what the answer is going to be, Kaito thinks as he picks it up. Just this morning, he shuffled into the kitchen to find Shinichi half-asleep against the coffee machine with his glasses skewed on his nose and his hair sticking up in fluffy lumps. Kaito had wanted to hug him so hard. There was literally nothing more adorable in the world.

Except when Kaito flips to page 21, there's an article slandering Shinichi's glasses written with catty adjectives like "unbecoming" and "hideous," along with judgy, condescending phrases that make Kaito's jaw clench. There are the results of a Twitter poll beside it, and apparently, 94% of Kudou Shinichi's fans think that he should switch to contacts. Kaito feels his face doing something angry and tight. He can't believe what he's reading. Sure, maybe Kaito thinks Shinichi should get contacts, but not because he looks bad. It's because Kaito's the messed up one. And how could anyone who claims to like Shinichi say things like that about him?

He throws the magazine into the street, ignoring the annoyed honking from a few cars, before he storms all the way home. Shinichi is in the kitchen, squinting at a packet of instant hot chocolate.

"Welcome home," he greets when Kaito stalks into the room. He lifts an eyebrow, probably at whatever facial expression Kaito is making. "Did someone jump on stage again during your levitation trick?"

"No," Kaito growls, throwing himself into a kitchen chair that protests but grudgingly holds up. Yanking off his jacket and throwing it on the table, he turns to watch Shinichi pour milk into a saucepan and flick on the stove. "Did you know that there are people who don't think you look good in glasses?"

Shinichi flinches, dropping the packet of hot chocolate. Kaito feels his frown deepen.

"Yeah," Shinichi says quietly, after a long pause. His back is towards Kaito, so Kaito doesn't know what his face even looks like, but he can hear the note of reproach in Shinichi's voice. That alarms him, a little. "I know people think I look bad. I'm getting contacts. Don't worry about it."

Kaito stares at his back, bewildered, until Shinichi sets a cup of hot chocolate in front of him and asks, "So how was your show?" with a smile that means he's not going to talk about it anymore. Kaito sighs and launches into the story of the kid in the first row who tried to eat the confetti.

Kaito's looking halfheartedly over a stack of blueprints for the new gallery opening in Haido, wondering if it'll ever even be a heist location, when Shinichi knocks on his doorjamb and sticks his head in. He's wearing a beanie and a Touto University sweatshirt in addition to the Glasses, and he looks like the bright-eyed college freshman that Kaito knows for a fact he never was. Kaito wants to hug him and refuse to let go for the next eight years.

"Hey, I'm going out to meet Ran," Shinichi says. He lifts an eyebrow at Kaito's desk. "Are you busy?"

Kaito caps the highlighter in his hand, twirling it idly as he shrugs. "Not really." All he's done is highlight a few ceiling vents and the main exhibit hall. "Where are you guys going?"

"Poirot," answers Shinichi, as if he and Ran ever go anywhere else. They're weirdly ritualistic in some ways. For example, Shinichi still wears his wristwatch tranquilizer every day, even though he's a police officer now, with an actual gun and badge and handcuffs. "Want to come with me?"

"Sure," Kaito agrees and gets up to put on something fit for public consumption.

They get to Poirot just as the sun sinks below the horizon, dousing everything in a dusky orange glaze. Shinichi's glasses catch in the light, gleaming golden, as Kaito pulls the door open for him in an attempt to act like a gentleman. Ran is sitting in a corner booth, wearing a fashionable sweater dress and somehow managing to make drinking tea look threatening.

"You're late," she remarks in a dangerously bland tone of voice as Shinichi tugs his beanie off, but then she notices Kaito trailing behind him and smiles indulgently. "Oh, Kuroba-kun. It's good to see you again."

"It's good to you too," Kaito nods, sitting down gingerly beside Shinichi. Ran vaguely terrifies him, because he once saw her dislocate someone's shoulder in the middle of a supermarket. Granted, the someone was a kidnapper and Ran was just helping Shinichi apprehend him, but… still. "Uh, sorry to… intrude."

"It's no intrusion at all," Ran laughs, waving a hand. She takes a sip of her tea and motions Azusa over. After securing their drink orders (black coffee for Shinichi, because he either has no taste buds or no soul, and royal milk tea for Kaito), Ran props her face up in her hands and gives Kaito a sly smile. She's basically ignoring Shinichi. Kaito is instantly on edge.

"So how's everything with you?" she asks. Shinichi is fiddling with his beanie and watching Ran as if he expects her to lunge at any moment. "I heard from Shinichi that your last few shows all sold out in minutes."

"Yeah," Kaito says, smiling at Azusa when she deposits his tea in front of him. "The shows have been pretty good lately. I've been giving more interviews, getting more publicity, all that. It's good."

"Glad to hear it." Ran smiles, wholly genuine, because as scary as she is, she's also a really nice person. Her gaze darts towards Shinichi, who stares back at her from behind his mug. His glasses are fogged up. "On the other hand, Shinichi still hasn't been promoted to inspector." She heaves a theatrical sigh. "And he's gotten glasses."

"Hey," Shinichi says mildly, arching his eyebrows, but Kaito is scowling before he even fully registers the comment.

"What do you mean by that?" he demands, knowing he sounds ridiculously bent out of shape over a joke, but did Ran really just insult the way Shinichi looks in glasses? Is she part of the 94% of humanity that's certifiably insane? Shinichi gives Kaito a bemused look, but Kaito is too busy frowning at Ran.

Ran just rolls her eyes. Affectionately, but still. "He looks awful in glasses. You know, when he was Conan" – Shinichi winces reflexively; everyone knows Ran still hasn't quite forgiven him – "he at least looked cute, you know, but now he just looks like his dad. Or a seventy-year-old anthropology professor." She reaches across the table to poke Shinichi on the bridge of his nose. "You couldn't have picked better frames, at least?"

"Wait, wait, wait," Kaito sputters before Shinichi can reply. He's squinting at her with a combination of disbelief and bewilderment. "You don't think Shinichi looks cute in glasses?" Beside him, Shinichi makes a squawky, strange sound, kind of like a duck whose foot has just been stepped on, but Kaito doesn't look at him (can't look at him).

"Um…" Ran's eyes flicker from Kaito to Shinichi, then back. "No? He looks terrible. I told him to get contacts." One of her eyebrows is creeping slowly upwards. "I thought you felt the same, Kuroba-kun."

"What," Kaito chokes.

"Yeah, Shinichi told me that you told him to get contacts, too, since you thought he looked so bad with glasses." In Kaito's periphery, Shinichi is making frantic abort mission hand motions at Ran, but Ran is pointedly ignoring him. "I mean, he came crying to me about how you couldn't even look at him when he was wearing glasses." She narrows her eyes at Kaito. "Did you lie to him just to screw with his feelings? Because if you did, you're even more of an asshole than I already thought you were." Apropos of nothing, she adds, "I know how to hide a body. And Shinichi would never turn me in."

"Ran," Shinichi says in a strained voice. His eyes are squeezed shut. His face is bright red. "You can stop talking whenever you like."

Kaito, on the other hand, feels a bit as if somehow hit him over the head with a two-by-four. "What are you talking about?" he manages, his voice sticky with disbelief. "Shinichi looks incredible in glasses. He's adorable." Before he can stop himself, he adds, "You don't know the things I want to do to him when he wears glasses."

There's a very awkward silence. Well, Kaito feels awkward, and Shinichi looks as if he wants to drown himself in the nearest liquid receptacle. Ran is smirking at them, somehow both surprised and smug.

"I told you that you must've misunderstood him, Shinichi," she cackles delightedly, and then gets up and begins winding a scarf around her neck. "Also, I'm going to leave now, because this is probably going to get awkward. Shinichi, you're paying for my tea. You're welcome." She gives them one last amused grin and saunters away from their table. Azusa waves at her.

"Oh my God," Shinichi chokes out after Ran disappears into the night. Kaito turns to look at him straight in the face for the first time since they got to Poirot, feeling something heavy settle in his stomach. He can't tell if it's dread, anticipation, or incredulity. Maybe it's all three.

"You thought I thought you looked bad with glasses?" he says disbelievingly, because that's the literal exact opposite of what Kaito thinks. He throws his hands up in the air. "Are you aware of how hot you are? Like, you are, all the time, but especially with glasses?"

"You ran out of the house the first time you saw me wearing glasses!" Shinichi counters, his shoulders scrunching defensively towards his ears. "And then you told me to get contacts! What was I supposed to think?"

"Um, that I was even more attracted to you than usual and didn't know what to do? Because I thought I was messed up because I was really into your glasses even though the last time I saw you wearing glasses you were Conan and there might be some kind of creepy connection between those two facts?" Kaito offers loudly. Shinichi looks disgusted.

"These aren't even the same kind of glasses!" he shouts.

"Well they're still glasses, okay! I thought maybe there was some Freudian meaning to it!" Kaito yells back at him.

And then one of them – or both of them – move and they're kissing, ridiculously enough. The edge of Shinichi's glasses digs into Kaito's cheek, and it hurts, but Shinichi's mouth is so warm and pliant underneath his, his lips parting so easy for Kaito that the pain doesn't really register in Kaito's head. He grabs for Shinichi, any part of him he can reach, and he gets his arms around Shinichi's waist and his right knee between both of Shinichi's. Shinichi reaches for his arms, and Kaito groans into his mouth when he feels Shinichi's hands lock around his biceps.

"Oh my God," someone squawks. Something hits the back of Kaito's head. They break apart to find that Azusa is throwing sugar packets at them while covering her eyes. She has remarkably good aim. "Could you maybe go somewhere that's not here? I mean, congratulations and everything, we've all been waiting for you two to get together for, like, four years, but could you get together somewhere else?"

"We're going, we're going," Kaito calls. He digs a ten thousand yen bill out of his pocket, throws it down on the table, and manhandles Shinichi out the door. Shinichi doesn't seem to mind, though. He just licks his swollen lips and pushes his glasses up his nose, grinning manically at Kaito.

They barely make it home in time.

"I got my contacts," Shinichi announces as he walks into the library a few weeks later. He brandishes a box at Kaito, mumbling an inventive swear as he tries to take off his pullover without dislodging his glasses. It's a very complicated process, apparently. From inside his sweatshirt prison, Shinichi informs Kaito, "I've already gone to the fitting. I'm good to wear them anytime."

"Okay," Kaito says, setting down the blueprints he's been looking over and turning his desk chair until he's facing Shinichi. "Can I see them for a second?"

Shinichi blindly hands the box to him before he finishes extricating himself from his sweatshirt. His hair is a mess, and his glasses sit crooked on his face. The longer Kaito looks at him, the harder he flushes. "What?"

"Nothing," Kaito beams, dropping the box of contacts into the trash as he gets up to wrap his arms around Shinichi. Shinichi makes a low, affronted noise that melts into an unwilling sigh when Kaito nips at the delicate skin behind his jaw.

"Those were expensive. I had to pay for the appointment and fitting, too," Shinichi mumbles into Kaito's neck. His nose is icy and his glasses are mashed against Kaito's collarbone, but Kaito doesn't mind in the slightest. "You better pay me back."

"I will," Kaito says agreeably. "I'm out of money, though, so how do you feel about pancakes and a Ghibli marathon?" It's a Tuesday night. Kaito's terrible at making pancakes and he's pretty sure they're out of syrup. They've seen every Ghibli movie at least four times.

"Only if we get to watch Howl's Moving Castle first," Shinichi answers easily, and Kaito grins and reaches up to straighten Shinichi's glasses.

If you enjoyed this fic, please considering dropping me a review, and I'll see you all soon! :D - Luna