I KNOW IT'S BEEN EIGHTY YEARS. I KNOW. I CAN EXPLAIN. I was sick and bedridden for a month, which wasn't exactly conducive to sitting down and writing, and then once I got better and actually tried to get something down, I realized that I've completely forgotten how to write. Yeah. Whoops. Anyway.

This fic is set in an AU where Kaito actually bothers to disguise his face and voice when he's dressed as Kid. Novel concept, I know. Lately I've been reading Marvel 616 SteveTony fic and this is the sad result of that. Why is identity porn so addicting?

Warnings include: grammar mistakes / general errors / bad writing (because like I said, I don't know how what words are...), shounen-ai, more sexual innuendo than usual, Hakuba-bashing from Kaito, etc., etc. Title from the song by BANNERS.

Enjoy (hopefully)! - Luna

Somebody to You

"I'm dating Hakuba-kun," Aoko says, and stirs a sugar cube into her tea placidly, as if she hasn't just announced the coming of the apocalypse.

Kaito blinks at her once. Then twice. Then he tries to figure out if he's been airdropped into an alternate dimension. Poirot looks the same as it had five minutes ago, but maybe Kaito's gone completely delusional. Although, he thinks as he eyes Aoko's unbothered expression, maybe he's not the delusional one.

"I'm sorry," he finally replies after a long moment of trying to find the hidden cameras that have to be a part of this setup. "I thought you said you were dating Hakuba."

"I am," replies Aoko. She sips her tea.

"No, I thought you meant, like, romantically. Like, romantically dating Hakuba," tries Kaito. He waves his hands, sort of flailing, and almost hits a passing waiter in the face. "As in boyfriend-girlfriend, Valentine's Day chocolate, sex-on-the-third-date dating." And oh God, Kaito just thought of Aoko and Hakuba in a—a sex context. A consext. Oh God. There is not enough bleach in the world to solve this problem.

"I am." Aoko remains stubbornly unimpressed. She gives him with the kind of look that could easily level a city block and folds her hands primly in front of her, daring him to have a problem with it, which, challenge accepted. Challenge accepted so hard.

"What about Morinaga from the coffee shop?" says Kaito, verging on desperate. "Officer Suzuki? Or Tanaka from the department store? Or any guy who's not Hakuba?"

"Morinaga-kun is a nice guy. I liked him best out of all the terribly thought out blind dates you made me go out on," Aoko allows. Kaito beams before she jabs an accusatory finger at him. "But Officer Suzuki is married."

"He's getting a divorce!"

"He has five kids and designer emotional baggage, Kaito. I'm pretty sure he's constantly dehydrated from crying himself to sleep every night." Kaito squawks, firstly because Suzuki is a really great guy underneath all the crying and drinking and secondly because wow, harsh, honestly. Aoko gives him a judgy look. "And Tanaka-kun works at the makeup counter at the department store, Kaito. I'm pretty sure he's not interested in girls."

"Um, that's sexist, or something." Kaito frowns. "Something-ist. Probably."

"He spent our whole date asking about whether he was your type or not. He also told me to give his number to you." Aoko raises her eyebrows, knowing she's won, and fine, case made. Kaito slumps back as she reaches for her tea, defeated. Looks like his plan to keep Hakuba from sinking his gross elitist detective claws into Aoko failed.

"Look, I went through with all the dates because I knew you weren't comfortable with me being with Hakuba-kun, for whatever juvenile and probably stupid reason," Aoko says, graciously. She pats him on the hand. "But then I decided that I cared less about your weird hang-ups than I did about my own happiness. So you're going to have to deal with it." Her smile goes sugary. "You can be maid of honor at the wedding."

Kaito bashes his forehead against the sugar bowl in his attempt to drop his head to the table. That's probably a metaphor for something, he thinks glumly.

"Tantei-kuuun, comfort me, I'm sad," Kaito wails, putting his head in Shinichi's lap. Without looking away from his phone, Shinichi shoves him off, which hurts Kaito more than it should, and not just because Kaito's nose is now very well acquainted with the concrete.

They're sitting on the roof of the Beika Art Gallery. It's thirty minutes post-heist, and there's still sweat clinging along Shinichi's hairline, diamondlike in the moonlight. The night breeze sweeps lazily over them, barely on the right side of too cold. In the distance, there's the sound of police sirens as the task force chases the dummy Kid Kaito's sent flying off on a hang glider. Idly, Kaito wishes he could scratch his nose, which is chafing under the latex skin he's wearing, but it's not as if he can take off his mask and/or gloves in front of Shinichi, of all people. He rolls onto his back, turning to look over at Shinichi.

"Pay attention to me," Kaito demands after a moment of watching Shinichi tap at his phone, the glow off the screen making Shinichi's face pearly pale. For a moment, he experiences a sharp burn of jealousy for whoever's receiving this much of Shinichi's attention. With a sigh, he drops his cheek on Shinichi's knee and angles his most innocent, pleading look up Shinichi.

Shinichi heaves a put-upon sigh and slides his phone into his pocket. His expression is resigned.

"What's wrong now?" he asks in the same tone that people use when talking to four-year-olds. It's a very familiar tone that means he's humoring Kaito. Kaito scowls up at him and flips the long-haired wig he's wearing over his shoulder, half for dramatic effect and half because it's stuck to his lip gloss.

"One of my best friends is dating an asshole," he informs him. Shinichi's eyebrows tick upwards.

"So they're dating you, then?"

"Tantei-kun," Kaito gasps, wounded. One corner of Shinichi's mouth twitches, and his eyes sparkle. It's really too bad that he wears smugness so prettily, because it would make it much easier for Kaito to hold onto his outrage if Shinichi just looked like the asshat that Kaito knows he actually is. As it is, Kaito can't even stay mad, not when Shinichi is smirking at him like that. He exhales and turns his face farther into the bend of Shinichi's knee. "I don't like him. I don't think he's good for her."

Shinichi gives him an unimpressed look.

"Is your friend an adult who can make her own decisions and doesn't need or deserve to have you skulking around, trying to orchestrate her dating life?" he asks, and when Kaito nods reluctantly, sulking, Shinichi just presses his lips together, like case closed, game over, try again later. Unfair. Kaito scowls.

"You're not allowed to say things that make sense. I thought you were supposed to be emotionally stunted. Or, like, unromantic and cold and robot-y like Holmes or whatever," announces Kaito, poking Shinichi beneath the ribs as hard as he can. It's the pettiest thing he can think to do. Shinichi twitches minutely from shoulders to knees but otherwise doesn't react.

"I'm not made of stone," he points out and frowns down at Kaito as if Kaito's done him a personal affront. "I don't hate everyone. There are people that I—I like." And then he pauses with his mouth partway open, hesitating, and Kaito wouldn't believe it if he weren't watching with his own two eyes—even so, he's still sort of dubious—but Shinichi blushes, as in pink-cheeked, shy-maiden blushes, and oh, this is going to be so good. Kaito's internal Akako cackles.

"Tantei-kun," he sings delightedly, and Shinichi clamps his mouth shut. Color works down his neck, spilling across his throat and over his collarbones. Kaito stares, fascinated. He's always kind of thought that Shinichi had purged his soul of everything except sarcasm and terrifying intelligence, but apparently he kept the—the adorable too. "Tantei-kun, are you in love?"

"No," Shinichi says too quickly, and then closes his eyes in resignation.

"Tantei-kun is in looooove!" Kaito will admit that he may squeal like wheels on a getaway car. He clings to Shinichi's knee when Shinichi tries to push-kick him away, pressing the padded chest plate he's wearing to Shinichi's shin. Shinichi twitches violently, probably trying to figure out if the softness pressed to his leg is real or not. Kaito takes advantage of his distraction to secure his arms tightly around Shinichi's calf. "This is so exciting! It's like sending my firstborn off to college." He presses a hand to his heart, or where his heart would be underneath all the silicone padding. "You're all grown up. Soon enough you'll be signing leases and getting things notarized."

"I own my house. I'm twenty-three." Shinichi eyes him with disdain.

"Shh," Kaito says, pressing one gloved finger to Shinichi's generous mouth. Shinichi reels back, a squiggly frown line appearing between his eyebrows. "This is a momentous occasion, tantei-kun. Don't ruin it." He sighs dreamily. "Ah, to be young and in love."

"I've been in love before," Shinichi points out, kind of sullenly, as he slumps against the wall in defeat. "I've had… people." He waves a hand vaguely. "I've done the—the thing. The romance thing." And then he frowns, probably realizing that the four-day screaming match that constituted his relationship with Ran and his short dating history with fellow emotionally stunted police officers can't really be called "romance things," at least not in good conscience.

"Of course you've dated people," agrees Kaito, patting Shinichi on the ankle in placation. Shinichi scowls, but Kaito ignores him. "So are you two official? Are date nights going to start cutting into our heist time?" The prospect makes him, well, kind of sad. He's been seeing Shinichi at heists for years, now. The feeling only intensifies when Shinichi actually looks a little apologetic.

"Um, well." He pushes a hand through the damp strands of his hair and tips his head back to peer up at the inkwell of a sky hanging over them. "I don't think they're ever really going to—notice me. At least not in that way. So."

"Oh, tantei-kun. Of course they'll notice you." Kaito sighs, pressing a hand to Shinichi's shoulder as he reclines back across Shinichi's lap. "They'd be an idiot not to." You're gorgeous and funny and the best friend anyone could ever want, he thinks, accompanied by a ridiculous rush of affection that would've been horrifically embarrassing if Shinichi had telepathy.

Shinichi gives him a hesitant look, as if he's not sure Kaito's being serious.

"I don't know about that," he mumbles, doubtful, and rubs a hand across the back of his neck. His mouth is pressed into a thin, flat line, as if he's somehow unaware of the fact that he's hotter than the sun. "You don't know what they're like. They're—they're incredible." The way he says it makes this mystery person sound like the second coming of God or something. As if they're that amazing.

Kaito watches him with eyebrows furrowed. He's not sure exactly what he's feeling: disbelief that Shinichi thinks he doesn't have people lusting after him from all corners, or disbelief that Shinichi thinks there's actually someone in the world who would turn him down.

"I mean, I could also help you with your sex appeal," he offers after a minute, eyeing Shinichi critically. "Your legs would look fantastic in heels." He reaches down and squeezes Shinichi's calf muscles, which feel not entirely dissimilar to steel bars. It throws him off a little, because, well, wow. Wow. He winks up at Shinichi and sneaks in another grope. "You have the legs for it, after all. All you'd have to do is get some lingerie and pose over a few tables, and they'd be yours."

Unsurprisingly, Shinichi uses his amazing calf muscles to kick him halfway across the rooftop.

At least he's not looking all sad and self-doubting anymore, Kaito thinks as he lies flat on his back, staring up at the stars with one cheek throbbing.

"No, but seriously," Kaito says after he's migrated back over and convinced Shinichi to offer him his lap again, mostly by fluttering his fake eyelashes while Shinichi blinked at him with the confusion of a man with the emotional intelligence and romantic experience of a brick. "Ask them out or something."

"I already texted them," sniffs Shinichi. "Like I said, I know what I'm doing." He pats Kaito on the head, condescending. "Don't worry about a thing."

Sure thing, Kaito thinks, and continues to worry about everything.

Kaito sort of collapses into bed when he gets home, not even bothering to pull off his wig before he's facedown and unconscious. It's for that reason that he doesn't check his phone, which he'd left on his desk, and it's for that reason that he wakes to the sound of his doorbell ringing, followed by a series of polite knocks.

Grumbling and spitting a bit of nylon hair out of his mouth, Kaito stumbles out of bed, yanks his mask off, strips down to his boxers, and trips to the door. He's yawning unattractively when he opens the door, one hand stuck in the tangle that is his hair after being smothered under a wig cap and mashed against a pillow for five hours.

This only serves to highlight the fact that Shinichi, who's standing in front of him in a pressed shirt and dark wash jeans, looks as if he's just spent a week living in a spa and sleeping in hammocks underneath blue skies and palm tree fronds, despite that Kaito knows for a fact that he was up just as late as Kaito was. He blinks his unfairly long lashes.

"I take it you didn't get my texts?"

Kaito scowls at him.

"Does it look like I got your texts," he says darkly. Nobody should look as good as Shinichi does, especially not this early in the morning.

"I don't know, maybe the shirtless bedhead look was what you were going for," Shinichi replies, eyebrows lifted. He's smiling just the slightest bit, one corner of his mouth pulled a little higher than the other, effortlessly charming. God, he even smells good, like sandalwood and jasmine tea, whereas Kaito probably smells like sweat and seasonal depression. Kaito rubs at the back of his neck, feeling massively inferior.

"Anyway," Shinichi continues, leaning against the doorframe, "I was going to take you out for breakfast, but if you aren't in the mood, that's fine. I probably should've waited for you to text back before I came over." For the first time, there's a flicker of uncertainty in his face, which, no, that's not what Kaito wants. Shinichi is best when he's being his usual sanctimonious self.

"No, no, that's not it. Give me a second to put something on and I'll go out with you." Kaito winks, letting one hand drift down his own chest to tug at the waistband of his underwear. Shinichi flushes, inexplicably, and beams at him from beneath his stupid long eyelashes. Kaito grins back and shuffles back to his room.

He remerges a minute later after scrounging for clean clothes, tugging a worn, quickly-approaching-threadbare t-shirt on over a pair of jeans that fit him much better five years ago and now feel as if they're trying to strangle his legs into submission. Shinichi goggles at him, probably wondering when and why he made friends with a homeless person, but at least he doesn't say anything. Kaito still feels the need to defend himself.

"It's laundry day."

Shinichi gives him a judgy Why Are You Acting Defensive; I'm Totally Not Judging You look.

"Poirot okay?" he asks as they start down Kaito's front walk. Kaito shrugs, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. This shirt really is old; it's nearly see-through.

"I guess," he agrees. Shinichi casts him one of his disconcerting, all-seeing detective looks. It's kind of unnerving when he does that.

"Something's wrong."

"Yeah," Kaito admits after a second, putting his hands into his pockets. It takes considerable effort and sort of feels as if he's shoved his hands into a cold press juicer. Okay, so these jeans might be more than a little too tight. He glances over at Shinichi, who's watching him with a patient expression. "You know how Aoko's dating Hakuba now?" Shinichi blinks.

"Now I do."

"Yeah. About that. I don't like it."

One of Shinichi's eyebrows ticks upwards.

"Why? They've been dancing around each other for ages. It's about time they did something about it." He studies Kaito's face, which is apparently an open book written in neon eighty-point block lettering, because he presses his lips together. "You don't think Hakuba is good enough for Nakamori-san, do you?" Kaito scowls at him.

"Sometimes I think you're a witch. Or a mind reader." He frowns. "Or a mind-reading witch."

"No, I just know you that well," says Shinichi before he goes pink and laughs, kind of awkwardly. "But it's pretty obvious that you're not a huge fan of Hakuba. And I guess that would explain why you kept setting Nakamori-san up with horrible people."

"I did not set her up with horrible people," Kaito squawks. Shinichi levels him with a disbelieving look.

"Suzuki invited me to go drinking once and spent the whole night crying into his beer about his wife leaving him. Then he threw up on my shoes and tried to start a fight with a telephone pole on the way home. Someone called the police with a noise complaint." He closes his eyes briefly, as if in pained remembrance of his dignity. "Satou will never let me live that down."

"Nobody's ever going to let the Suzuki thing go," mutters Kaito. "You set your friend up with a divorced alcoholic one time, and nobody lets you forget it."

Shinichi kindly chooses to ignore that comment.

"But seriously, though. Why're you so against Hakuba dating Nakamori-san?" A weird look settles around Shinichi's eyes as he glances over at Kaito. On anyone else, Kaito might've called it nervousness, but on Shinichi, it looks more like—like discomfort, something muted and nebulously gray. "Is it—does it have to do with the fact that he's, like, a detective who likes Holmes and chases Kid? Or something?" He's started sweating, despite that it's November.

Kaito stares.

"No, it's because he's an asshole," he says, slowly, and Shinichi deflates in what looks like relief, wiping at his forehead. He drags his thumb over the hinge of his jaw, exhaling, and smiles over at Kaito. Kaito blinks at him. "Well, that was weird."

He doesn't realize he's said that out loud until Shinichi flushes and ducks his head a little, tucking his hands into his pockets in an uncharacteristically self-conscious motion. Kaito instantly feels as if he's stomped on a puppy or something.

"Don't be like that, Shin-chan," he laughs, mostly to distract himself from the soul-crushing guilt that drops on his shoulders like a ton of breezeblocks, and slings an arm around Shinichi's neck. God he smells good. "I like you even when you're being a weirdo."

The back of Shinichi's neck flares hot against the inside of Kaito's arm as Kaito drags him down the sidewalk. Maybe he's coming down with something.

"So how was your date?" Kaito sing-songs from where he's perched on Shinichi's windowsill like the world's hugest crow. He's in a particular favorite disguise, one that looks makes him look like the protagonist of a shounen manga due to the sheer spikiness of the wig. "Must not have been the greatest, since you're lying there alone."

To his credit, Shinichi, who's starfished across his bed with his phone hovering a myopia-inducing four inches away from his face, doesn't even startle. He just cuts an unimpressed look over at Kaito and resumes doing whatever the rapid, self-important tapping he'd been engrossed in requires. He's probably playing Sudoku, the nerd.

"I'm not sure if I should be honored that you bothered to put on a costume, fly to my house, and sit on my windowsill just because you want to know how my date went," he sighs, but he's also smiling to himself. It's worryingly maidenesque. Kaito catches himself about to scowl and forces himself to smirk.

"Of course you should be honored. I don't do this for everyone, you know," he sniffs, dropping into the room and sliding the window shut behind him. "And anyway, if you hated me showing up, you would've locked your window."

"As if that's ever stopped you," Shinichi snorts, but he does deign to look away from his phone and pull himself up into a seated position. The stretched-out neckline of his oversized Tokyo Spirits t-shirt yawns wide over one of his shoulder, making him look about six (ha, irony). He gives Kaito an eyebrowy look. "Seriously, though. Did you really come all this way just to see how my date went?"

"Tantei-kun, I'm shocked that you would doubt my motives," Kaito says, one hand pressed to his chest. Shinichi eyeballs him for a moment before he sighs and pushes a hand through his hair. His very—tousled hair. That, along with the red of his mouth, the faint flush along his cheekbones, and the bare curve of his shoulder, coalesce into a very… sexy image.

For a single, horrible second, Kaito is sure that Shinichi brought someone back here after their date, and they're in the adjacent bathroom cleaning up and wondering whom Shinichi's talking to while Kaito hovers beside the bed like a creep in a cape, but then Shinichi kicks the covers off to reveal that he's wearing flannel pajama pants that probably rank around a 0.8 on the sexiness scale and old, holey socks printed with little cat faces, so. Probably not.

"The date was—it was good," Shinichi tells him once Kaito manages to reduce his heartrate to something reasonable and non-heart-palpitationy, and he's wearing that fond smile that Kaito's starting to develop adverse feelings towards, for whatever reason. "I'm not sure they knew it was a date, but we had a good time."

Inexplicably, Kaito's mind goes to the breakfast they'd had together. They'd spent twenty minutes arguing over whether pancakes were better than waffles. Once they realized they were both arguing for pancakes and weren't actually in disagreement, they started in on whether cheesecake should be categorized cake or pie. (Shinichi and Google said pie; Kaito pointed out that it's called cheesecake, so regardless of its formulation, it should be grouped with shortcake, ice cream cake, etc.) Azusa had kicked them out after an hour, mostly because people were starting to stare.

Yeah, he thinks, a little sadly, that had been a good time. He wonders if the date Shinichi had gone on had been an even better time.

"Glad to hear it," Kaito says after a moment. "You deserve nice things, tantei-kun." Something in his face must be a little too serious, because Shinichi gives him a concerned look.

"Come here," he demands. Kaito blinks.

"Uh, no, I think I'll keep my distance," he replies, because Shinichi is wearing a slightly manic expression that abruptly reminds Kaito that this is the guy who took down a criminal syndicate in the body of a six-year-old with, like, a pair of sneakers and inflatable soccer balls.

"Come here so I can see if you're coming down with something. Do you smell burnt toast, by any chance?" Shinichi arches an eyebrow when Kaito blinks at him with bemusement. "Something has to be medically wrong with you if you're willing to dish out compliments."

"I complimented your legs just the other day. There were definitely compliments," Kaito feels compelled to point out. Shinichi rolls his eyes with the panache of a teenager in their emo phase.

"I mean genuine, heartfelt compliments. Sentimental compliments. Borderline sexual harassment comments don't count," he clarifies. With what appears to be a monumental effort, he scoots across the bed to press a hand to Kaito's forehead. Even through the latex of the mask, Kaito can feel the warmth of his touch. "Doesn't seem like you have a fever. Maybe you're just been infected by sentimentality."

"Tantei-kun," says Kaito, laughing a little disbelievingly as he pushes Shinichi away, and Shinichi sits back with a smirk. He looks pleased with himself, which means that whole thing was designed to make Kaito smile. Kaito watches him with a lump growing at the back of his throat.

"So what are you going to do next?" he asks before he can stop himself. Shinichi tilts his head at him, uncomprehending, and Kaito smiles, a little self-consciously. "I mean, are you going to go on more dates? I take it the one you've had so far didn't ruin your expectations." There's a tiny part of Kaito that's disappointed, which, what the hell. He feels like the worst best friend ever.

"No, it really didn't," Shinichi agrees. He wraps a hand around the back of his neck, a little flushed. "I guess—are chocolate and flowers appropriate?" he ventures after a moment, frowning. "Is that what I'm supposed to do now?"

"Aw, tantei-kun, I thought you said you knew everything there was to know about dating," Kaito reminds him. Shinichi glares.

"I didn't say that. I said I had experience," he snaps before he looks away shiftily. "Well. For a given value of experience."

"Don't be ashamed of being a virgin," Kaito assures him, patting him on the ankle. "Society's oversexed, anyway. There's no shame in waiting." He said that mostly just to see Shinichi's reaction, which he expects to be unimpressed staring, but instead Shinichi turns bright red and buries his face in his hands, and wait, hold up, what.

"I hate you," Shinichi informs him in a small voice. Kaito is still trying to wrap his head around the concept of "Shinichi" and "virgin" in the same sentence. Holy—okay. Kaito is going to back away from that thought. Because. Because that is—that is a thought. That he shouldn't be thinking. Especially not in the same room as Shinichi.

"Well," Kaito says in the ensuing silence, after he's rebooted his brain. He claps his hands together, stupidly. He's wearing gloves. It doesn't work. Shinichi is now looking at him with a weirded-out expression on his too-pink face. Kaito is trying to remember how to think in compound-complex sentences. "Um. Yeah, I think chocolate and flowers are appropriate. Maybe personalize them to the person to make it more romantic?"

"I can do that." Shinichi looks pensive. "Yeah, I can do that. Definitely."

"Brilliant," Kaito agrees. Then, to distract himself from The Thoughts That Shall Not Be Thought, he asks, "Want to watch something?" and they end up parked on Shinichi's couch, having a Detective Samonji marathon until five in the morning. Then he flies home and thinks about Shinichi's torrid affair until Aoko calls him to go out for coffee, and then he thinks about Shinichi's torrid affair all throughout coffee, in between drinking his royal milk tea and insulting Hakuba to see Aoko's reaction. After that, he scouts out the next heist location (the Haido Museum of Contemporary Art) and almost gets caught stealing blueprints from the manager's office because he's distracted by thinking about Shinichi's torrid affair. Basically, there's a lot of thinking about Shinichi's torrid affair.

Kaito is not moping.

"Well, you're doing something," Nishino says, artfully drawn eyebrows arched. She drags the concealer wand beneath his eyes for the fourth time, expression dubious. "You don't get undereye circles this dark by doing nothing." She's started to look slightly hunted. "I think there are literally black holes under your eyes, Kuroba. No amount of makeup is fixing this." She eyes him with something like morbid interest. "What did you even do to yourself?"

"Spent the night curled up in bed watching Ghibli movies and wondering if Shinichi's secret girlfriend likes Spirited Away as much as I do and then getting annoyed at myself for caring so much" sounds pathetic enough in his head that Kaito doesn't even want to try verbalizing it. He coughs instead, dragging a hand through the pomaded mess that is his hair.

"I'm just a little stressed?" he tries.

Nishino looks unimpressed as she waves the mostly-empty tube of concealer in his face, shakes her head, and stalks off into the racks, presumably to find him a jacket to put over the button-down he's wearing. Kaito watches her go with a sigh.

He's still watching her, in fact, and has zoned out staring at her six-inch heels when there's a knock on his dressing room door. Kaito glances up just in time to see Shinichi step in, dressed in a navy suit with his hair still styled (except where it's broken free in rebellious cowlicks at the nape of his neck). He's carrying a briefcase in one hand and a takeout cup in the other.

"Shinichi," Kaito says, a little disbelievingly. Shinichi doesn't do this. Shinichi shows up at his shows without warning, watches Kaito like a very intense hawk throughout the whole thing, and then tries to explain how Kaito did all his tricks. Shinichi gets frustrated when he realizes he doesn't actually know how Kaito levitated that time or set that curtain on fire, and then he sulks until he figures it out, at which point he returns to being a condescending asshole. Shinichi doesn't do this—except here he is, doing it.

Shinichi smiles. The way he approaches Kaito would read as self-conscious from anyone else, but on Shinichi, Kaito's not sure what the tilt of his shoulders and bend of his neck means. He's still trying to unravel it when Shinichi comes to a stop in front of Kaito. His eyebrows appear to have gone on vacation to his neatly-gelled hairline.

"What happened to your face? You look like you've been punched in both eyes," he says. Kaito presses a hand to his chest, affronted.

"I can't believe that's the first thing you'd say to me," he gasps. "What happened to common courtesy? Asking about my mother's wellbeing?" Shinichi rolls his eyes.

"Hello, hi, good evening, Kaito, is your mother still on a spa tour of Taipei?"

Kaito sniffs, throwing an arm over the back of his chair as he twists to give Shinichi the most condescending look he can manage.

"No, she's backpacking across Europe now. Keep up." There's a large part of Kaito worried that if Shinichi rolls his eyes any harder, he'll do himself irreversible retina damage. "Also, for the record, I am suave and handsome and my face is always perfect." He glances in the mirror. The dark circles look as if someone tried to cover up Sharpie with watercolor paint, which is to say horrible. Kaito grimaces. Shinichi does the same.

"Yeah, yeah. You look like you're coming off a four-day bender." The space between his eyebrows pinches into his I'm Concerned and Hiding It Badly line. The last time Kaito saw it was when Ran interrupted one of their Mario Kart nights to throw herself down in Shinichi's lap and make a lot of noise about Sera and a motorcycle and inconsiderate murder victims and beheading.

"I'm fine, Shinichi," sighs Kaito. He presses his knuckles to his eyes. They come away covered in smeared makeup, and he cringes. Ugh. "Just had a… bad night."

Shinichi looks unconvinced. He opens his mouth, probably preparing to launch into one of his painfully hypocritical "you should take better care of yourself" speeches when Nishino reemerges from the racks. She's holding a blue velvet suit jacket that Kaito knows for a fact Shinichi despises, because the last time Kaito wore it Shinichi made him change before they went out for dinner. It's one of Kaito's favorites, against all sane fashion advice, though.

Nishino hands it to him with an expression of resignation.

"I'm hoping the ugliness will draw attention away from your face," she informs him before she spots Shinichi and flushes. An alarming number of Kaito's staff seems to harbor massive crushes on him. Kaito usually finds it funny, but right now it just makes him feel extra aware of the fact that he got less than two hours of sleep last night.

Shinichi shakes his head. He offers Nishino an absent smile—Nishino bites her bottom lip and retreats back into the racks, probably to perv on him more stealthily—before he turns back to Kaito, who's taken the chance to shrug on the suit jacket, and frowns.

"You have makeup on your hands. Stop moving," he commands, setting down both his briefcase and his cup. He pulls the halves of the jacket straight down, patting the lapels into place as he buttons it up. Kaito is about to make a comment about having a personal servant when Shinichi snaps open his briefcase and pulls something out.

It's a blue rose. The thorns have been deftly snipped away, and it looks fresh, the pigmentation still bright and the edges of the petals still silky. Kaito feels his eyes widen. As someone whose rose garden accounts for three-fourths of his water bill, he can definitely appreciate quality flowers.

"It's for you," Shinichi tells him. He looks a little pink around the ears as he reaches down and slips the rose into Kaito's buttonhole. The blue matches the velvet perfectly.

"How presumptuous," Kaito says, for lack of anything wittier. Shinichi goes distinctly red, and he suddenly won't meet Kaito's eyes.

"You don't have to keep it," he mumbles. "I just—I don't know—"

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course I'm keeping it," Kaito interrupts, one hand cupping protectively over the rose. As if he'd ever turn down a) a nice rose or b) a nice rose from Kudou Shinichi.

Shinichi smiles at him for a glorious, glorious moment before he glances down at his watch. The smile drops off his face, and he heaves a sigh, pushing a hand through his hair.

"What's wrong?" Kaito feels compelled to ask.

"I have to go now. I promised Takagi I'd meet him at a crime scene in ten minutes, and it's all the way in Haidou." Shinichi gives him an apologetic look, shaking his sleeve back down over his watch.

"Oh." Kaito feels a bit stupid, all of a sudden. "You're not staying for the show?"

"I would if I could," says Shinichi, and of course he looks genuinely sorry. There's a moment where he just looks at Kaito, brow furrowed, before he reaches up and runs his fingers beneath Kaito's eyes, patting the concealer into place. He's so close Kaito can see the tip of his tongue press against his front teeth in concentration. "You'll do great, Kaito. See you later."

While Kaito is still standing there like a beached whale, Shinichi grabs his briefcase and strides out of the room, trench coat swirling behind him. Nishino comes skulking out of the racks.

"Hey, he left his coffee," she remarks in a tone of voice that suggests she's thinking about indirect kisses and other similarly creepy things. Kaito glares at her before he picks up the cup. He pops the top off to find that it's full of royal milk tea.

Shinichi doesn't drink royal milk tea. Shinichi mainlines pure black coffee and claims royal milk tea is sugared milk with one drop of tea added just so the name isn't a technical lie and no one gets sued. Shinichi knows that royal milk tea is Kaito's favorite.

"Why are you smiling like that?" Nishino asks suspiciously. "It's gross. Stop."

Shinichi can't make it to the next heist Kaito holds, tied up in the Haido murder as he is. He's been busy every time Kaito tries to find him, talking to forensics officers or digging around through old case files. Apparently this is a copycat murder of some unsolved serial killings from twenty years ago, and there's a high chance of another body showing up sometime soon. Kaito would be concerned if Shinichi didn't seem to be in that determinedly intense zone that means he's not going to let anyone die.

Anyway, that means Shinichi has better things to do than chase Kaito around a museum for two hours. It's kind of unfortunate, because Kaito's been dying slightly about whether Shinichi and his One True Love are together yet, and he was planning on harassing the truth out of Shinichi after the heist.

He chooses the next best option. He locks himself in a closet with Hakuba.

"I hate you," Hakuba shrieks, banging on the door. He somehow manages to do it while glaring at Kaito over his shoulder for maximum dramatism. Kaito sighs and uncrosses his legs from where he's sitting on top of a stack of storage boxes.

"Everyone's gone. They're following the dummy I sent out. And anyway, nobody's going to be able to unlock that door." He hops lightly off the boxes and pushes a long hank of the curly brown Okino Yoko-esque wig he's chosen for today away from his face, pitching his voice as sweet and high as he can. "I just wanted to talk to you, Hakuba-kun."

Hakuba stops pounding on the door long enough to give him an incredulous look.

"I have a girlfriend," he says, condescending as he literally turns his nose up. Kaito wonders how condescension looks good, maybe even endearing, on Shinichi, but is beyond infuriating on Hakuba. Something about Hakuba's face is eminently punchable.

"Yeah, and I'm not interested in guys with IQs lower than100, which rules you out," Kaito informs him, equally condescending, just to hear the outraged, stabbed-parrot squawk Hakuba emits. He leans against a wall, crossing his arms over the sizeable chest plate he's wearing. "I wanted to talk to you about tantei-kun."

Hakuba eyes him.

"You're referring to Kudou-kun?" he asks, wary. Kaito makes a herculean attempt not to roll his eyes and fails, badly.

"No, the other tantei-kun."

Hakuba elects to ignore that. He's frowning as he turns fully away from the door to look at Kaito.

"Contrary to whatever you think, detectives don't all share one brain and just pass it along whenever someone needs a case solved. I don't actually know what he's thinking all the time."

"But you're still friends with him, right? You know what's going on with him?" Kaito raises his eyebrows. Hakuba is looking at him as if he expects Kaito to lunge for his jugular any second now, which, rude.

"I suppose," he replies, drawing out the last syllable. "What about him do you want to… know?" He says it as if Kaito's asked for Shinichi's social security number and credit card numbers. God he's an asshole. And this is the guy Aoko wants to sleep with. She's not allowed input into Kaito's life anymore, not when her judgment is this impaired.

"I know tantei-kun is interested in someone," says Kaito after the staring reaches judginess critical mass. He tries for a winning smile, which must fail because Hakuba's grimace just deepens. "And I was just wondering how things were—progressing, as it were. That's all."

Hakuba stares at him.

"You locked me in a closet to interrogate me about Kudou-kun's love life?" he finally says.

"Yes, that's exactly it," Kaito agrees, relieved that he understands. Hakuba eyeballs him for a long moment, clearly reconsidering Kaito's sanity.

"Why are you so interested in Kudou-kun's love life, again? I know you two are," and here his face does something pinched, "friends, or whatever, but this is a bit much if you're just a little curious." He squints at Kaito, mouth pressed into a line. "Are you sure you're not into him?"

"Into him?" Kaito repeats blankly.

"Yeah, into him." Hakuba does something complicated with his face that involves a lot of eyebrowing. When Kaito continues to stare at him with the comprehension of a goldfish, he sighs and does a very obscene gesture with his hands. Suddenly "into him" has a horrifically obvious meaning, and Kaito will also need to soak his brain in bleach to erase the image of Hakuba doing—that.

"What," he says, intelligently. Hakuba shrugs.

"Your interest would make a lot more sense if you had a thing for Kudou-kun," he points out. "Otherwise, you're just sort of creepy and nosy. So."

"I," Kaito begins, then stops. Does he have a thing for Shinichi? Yeah, he thinks Shinichi is hot, because obviously, and he thinks Shinichi is cute, because also obviously, and Shinichi is his best friend, and Shinichi is sweet and smart underneath all his layers of detectivey smugness, and Shinichi is fun to be around, and Shinichi is… Shinichi is.

"Oh my God," Kaito says faintly. "What the hell. What is this." Has he really been in love with Shinichi without realizing it? When did he acquire the emotional awareness of a detective? He rubs at his temples, feeling a migraine brewing. "This is horrible."

"You're welcome," snipes Hakuba, tone full of self-congratulatory complacency. "Also, how do we get out of here, now that you've had your epiphany?"

There are two options: tell Shinichi or don't—tell Shinichi and risk rejection, or don't and suffer through Shinichi gushing about his mystery girlfriend until Kaito has an emotional breakdown, and, well, only one of those has a hundred-percent chance of angst. The other only has a ninety-nine percent chance. So. That's the one Kaito's going to choose.

(Yes, he's very aware that the chance that will Shinichi be open to dating him when he already has his One True Love is slim to none, but who knows. Maybe Shinichi got hit on the head while chasing down the serial killer. Maybe his One True Love is moving to Canada. It could happen.)

Kaito's never been one for hesitation or cautiousness. When he gets an idea in his head, he goes for it. Which is why he ends up on Shinichi's doorstep an hour after he and Hakuba make it out of the closet. It only occurs to him that Shinichi's probably still knee-deep in casework and unlikely to be in the mood for a love confession when Shinichi's already opened the door and is rubbing blearily at his eyes.

Shinichi looks—well, he looks exhausted, to be honest. His shirt is wrinkled up around the shoulders, as if he fell asleep at some point with his head on his arms, and he's squinting in the dim moonlight, one eye half shut. It kind of pains Kaito that his first thought is "adorable" rather than "alarming." This being in love thing is sort of gross, now that he's fully conscious of it.

"Kid," Shinichi says, sounding surprised as he pushes a handful of hair out of his face and blinks at Kaito. He leans against the doorframe, tilting his head back. "What's up? I thought you had a heist."

"Yeah, I did. I just came from there." Kaito swallows before he clears his throat. "What about you? I heard you skipped out on me because of a case."

"Oh, yeah, that serial killing case." Shinichi nods, completely casual as if serial killings happen every day in his life (which—might be true, actually, but). "We wrapped it up an hour ago. Caught the killer. I just got home." He yawns, eyes squinting shut, before he blinks at Kaito, half a smile on his face. "Anyway, why're you here? Don't you have better things to do at"— he checks his watch—"two in the morning? Or were you just missing me at the heist?"

"I…" Kaito begins. His throat is sandy. His heart is smacking against his ribcage. His stomach is doing acrobatics in his stomach. Is this what it feels like when you're serious about someone? Kaito's dated around before, yeah, but it's never felt like—like this. God. It's embarrassing that he didn't realize any of it before. And he was making fun of Shinichi for being inexperienced. He knew nothing.

Shinichi is looking at him with both eyebrows raised. Kaito abruptly discovers he's staring blankly at him with his mouth partially open.

"Are you okay?" Shinichi reaches out with one slender hand, pinching Kaito's cheek and only getting latex. Kaito freezes as Shinichi's nose wrinkles and he laughs a little to himself, letting go with an easy shrug. "Right, the mask. Well. Anyway." He gives Kaito an expectant look. "Are you okay?"

"Shinichi," Kaito says helplessly, and Shinichi startles a little. Kaito doesn't call him that when he's dressed like this—one, because it doesn't seem fair when Shinichi theoretically doesn't know Kid's real name, and two, because it makes it harder for Kaito to remember who he's supposed to be, Kid or Kaito. But right now, he can't think of any reason not to call Shinichi by his name.

He takes hold of Shinichi's hand, which is slim and elegant clasped between his own gloved fingers. Shinichi is starting to frown, blinking quickly.

"Kid?" he replies, unsure.

"I, uh," Kaito stammers—stammers, him; if that doesn't say how shaken he is, nothing does—before he squares his shoulders, flips his wig out of his face, and says, "Shinichi, would you maybe go out with me? Sometime?" His voice strains embarrassingly around the "sometime."

It's incredibly awkward when Shinichi's face falls.

"Oh, um," he says. Kaito has never been so hurt by two syllables. He watches as Shinichi visibly tries to think of something to say, mouth working open and closed, before he finally settles on, "Kid… you know there's someone I'm interested in already."

And it's not me, Kaito thinks. Right. Okay. He nods like a marionette, jerky and wooden and controlled more by politeness than actual agreement, and drops Shinichi's hand as gracefully as he can manage.

"I'm really sorry," Shinichi adds, and the horrible part is that he means it, because he's not an asshole when it comes down to it. The look on his face is—well. He reaches out for Kaito, possibly to offer some form of cruel comfort, and Kaito flinches enough that Shinichi recoils a little.

"It was just a thought, tantei-kun," Kaito laughs, throwing on a smile. Shinichi stares as he hops lightly backwards, offering an uncoordinated bow. "Well, that was all I wanted. See you at the next heist?" He doesn't wait for a response before he tosses down a smoke grenade and flees. His pride can't take it. Neither can his heart, but he's trying not to think about that part.

Kaito throws himself a pity party when he gets home. He considers burning the entire outfit he was wearing—see if he ever models a disguise off of Okino Yoko again, he thinks with some degree of pettiness—before he decides against it and shoves the whole thing into the very back of his costume closet. Then he puts on his comfiest pajamas, digs a bag of probably-expired baking chocolate out of his pantry, and makes a blanket nest in the middle of his bed, chewing on chocolate chips and clinging to a pillow while he contemplates whether he should call Aoko to cry at her and ultimately decides against it. She deserves to spend time with Hakuba instead of listening to him whine.

He may shed a few manful tears, but nobody has to know that. This isn't the first time he's been turned down, but it is the first time he's been turned down by someone as important as Shinichi, so. Kind of stings. Just a tiny bit.

He falls asleep sometime around four, forehead mashed against his forearm, and wakes up, disoriented, to chocolate on his hands and someone shaking him lightly by the shoulder.

"Uh, Kaito? You… okay?" says the someone, and Kaito groans and lifts his face out of the pillow, squinting in the sunlight, and oh, God, why.

Normally Kaito would be thrilled to wake up to Shinichi standing over him, backlit with morning sunlight goldening his hair and wearing a cashmere sweater like something out of GQ, but right now, it just makes Kaito want to burrow back into his blankets and cry, this time very unmanfully. It's too soon for this. Clearly the universe hates him. He jams his face into a pillow.

"Kaito?" Shinichi peels the blanket away from him. Kaito can hear the combination of confusion, reflexive judginess, and concern in his voice when he asks, "Why do you have chocolate all over your duvet?"

"I had a rough night," Kaito mumbles without removing his face from the pillow. "Did you need something?" It comes out way more tired and bitter than he means for it to.

"I… oh." Shinichi audibly sits back. "No, not… not really." He sounds uncomfortable enough that Kaito turns his face to squint at him with one eye. Shinichi is pushing a hand through his hair, mouth turned down at the corners as he stares, fixated, at something on Kaito's sheets. Just looking at him makes Kaito instantly feel like the kind of asshole who drowns kittens for fun. Fantastic.

"I didn't mean it like that," he sighs, sitting up and shoving covers away as he scrubs at his face with the back of his hand. "What's going on?" When Shinichi hesitates, Kaito forces himself to touch Shinichi's arm, even as his inner angsty teenager sobs brokenly. "Shinichi?"

"Uh," Shinichi begins before he rubs a hand over the back of his head. "I, uh—I wanted to ask you. If you'd. Like to go out with me? As boyfriends? Maybe?" His voice goes up at the end. His face is turning an expressive shade of red. He chances a glance up at Kaito. He's biting his bottom lip.

For a moment, Kaito is positive that he's hallucinating or dreaming or dead. Maybe the baking chocolate acquired hallucinogenic qualities from sitting in his pantry for five years. Maybe he's having the most surreal, simultaneously painful and incredible dream. Maybe he accidentally smothered himself in his sleep and this is either heaven or hell (he's not entirely sure which it would be). Maybe—maybe—

He only realizes he's been staring blankly at Shinichi for a long time when Shinichi looks away and his face goes all sad and horrifying, his mouth pulling downwards and his eyelashes trembling as he blinks rapidly. Kaito flails.

"Whoa, I—yeah, I would love that. To do that," he half-shouts and is gratified to see Shinichi's face go supernova-bright, matchlit and explosive. It's ridiculous how happy he looks, as if Kaito has just fulfilled every dream he's ever had by agreeing to date him. Kaito's conflicted as to how he should be feeling.

"Really?" Shinichi asks, and he sounds so childlike that Kaito can't help but laugh.

"Yeah, really," he answers, and reaches out to ruffle Shinichi's hair. Shinichi pushes into his touch like an oversized cat. "You deserve nice things, Shinichi, and I'm the nicest thing." He flashes his widest smile. For a second, Shinichi's smile fades, but he's beaming again within a second.

"I guess I knew going into this that you weren't the most humble person," he sighs before he slithers into Kaito's lap, easy as you please, and snuggles into Kaito's side. Kaito is kind of impressed; he's got moves that Kaito wasn't exactly expecting from him. Shinichi peers up at him with one eye and smiles, crookedly. "I like you anyway."

"I like you too, Shinichi," breathes Kaito before he tilts his head back to blink up at the ceiling. He's not sure if he should be offering live sacrifices to whatever gods may be laughing at him from above or burning down every shrine he can find. What the hell, honestly. This is—this is—

Shinichi grabs Kaito's wrist to guide his hand into his hair, nearly purring, and Kaito's brains stutters before he decides to worry about it later.

"How long have you been lusting after me, anyway?" he asks after they've sunken into a quiet, comfortable sort of silence. Shinichi makes a quiet noise and twists in his lap until they're facing each other.

"I dunno," he begins, very obviously lying, before Kaito gives him a Look and he amends, flushing, "A long time. But I didn't start, like, trying to do anything until recently. Someone, uh, pushed me to do something about my feelings."

Someone, Kaito realizes, being him. Him as Kid. His alter ego got Shinichi to try to seduce him. God this is messed up.

"That time I took you out to breakfast? It was supposed to be a date. And when I brought you the flowers and the milk tea—that was supposed to be, like, chocolate and flowers, but tailored more specifically to you." Shinichi is pinking, but it's more out of happiness than embarrassment, because he's grinning up at Kaito without a trace of shyness. It's a sight Kaito would like to see every second of every hour. "The advice I got must've been pretty good, considering that, well, you know. I should… I should thank that person." His smile goes faint and fond, which. Well. Kaito's never experienced jealousy towards himself before, but there's a first time for everything. It's also completely ridiculous, considering that Shinichi turned him down less than twenty-four hours ago.

"Should I be jealous?" Kaito arches an eyebrow, and Shinichi splutters incoherently, smacking Kaito in the stomach. It sucks that Kaito still finds him adorable even as he clutches at his abdomen and wheezes.

"What? No. Not—no," Shinichi is sputtering as Kaito recovers. He's waving his hands, sort of manically. "I would never. Kaito."

"My boyfriend is already cheating on me emotionally," Kaito says, sniffling and straightening to look Shinichi in the eye. "Such a player."

Shinichi looks torn, squinting up at Kaito before a grin breaks through and he ducks his head.

"So we're boyfriends now, are we?" Kaito shrugs.

"Sounds better than mutual feeling-havers," he points out, and Shinichi laughs as he rolls onto his side and tucks his face into the bend of Kaito's knee. Kaito can't help but smile back down at him.

He'll take it. He'll take Shinichi any way he can get him.

They go on the promised date. Shinichi takes him to some famous restaurant that's located at the top of a tower overlooking Beika. The server gives them a scented candle and winks at Shinichi before asking for their order. Shinichi is wearing a navy button-down, the top few buttons undone to expose the slim ivory column of his throat, and Kaito keeps getting distracted by the sight of his collarbones like the unabashed pervert he usually pretends he isn't. The food itself is delicious, four extravagant courses that get progressively more gourmet and moan-inducing (although the moans are more because Kaito just kind of likes watching Shinichi's ears go red). They talk about Shinichi's latest case and the new season of Detective Samonji scheduled to start in a week and Hakuba's Sherlock cosplay (they seem to be in agreement that it was cringeworthy, albeit for different reasons—Shinichi gets passionate about book canon or something; Kaito mostly makes fun of Hakuba). When dessert comes, Kaito casually fits his hand into Shinichi's and leaves it there beside the ramekin of raspberry crème brûlée. He doesn't let go, even as Shinichi pays the bill (he refuses to let Kaito pay), even as they leave the restaurant, even as they get in the cab (which Kaito strongarms his way into paying for), even as Shinichi walks him home. It's a good date. It really is.

"So that was good," Shinichi says as they approach Kaito's front door. He presses his lips together. Kaito raises an eyebrow.

"But not great," he finishes. Shinichi winces.

"I wasn't going to say it like that," he replies weakly, which is less of a denial and more of a relieved agreement. Kaito just sighs and shakes his head. He can't decide if he's more frustrated with himself or the situation, considering how it seems as if neither version of him can hold Shinichi's romantic attention. Probably himself.

"So tell me what wasn't perfect," he demands, dropping Shinichi's hand to press against the bridge of his nose. He has to unstick the words from the back of his throat when he adds, "I really like you, you know. I want this to work out."

"I really like you, too," says Shinichi, and he looks completely earnest, brow furrowed and expression pleading. "I do want this to happen. Really. I just… I don't know how to explain it."

"Give it a try. Maybe I'll understand anyway, being the amazing and sensitive soul that I am." Kaito sinks down onto his front steps, propping his face in his hands and looking up at Shinichi. Shinichi watches him for a moment before he follows.

"I," he starts, then stops. Kaito waits him out. "Before, I mentioned that there was someone who was giving me advice about you? Or, well, about dating in general."

"Yes," Kaito agrees, and lifts his eyebrows expectantly when Shinichi hesitates and bites his bottom lip. "Shinichi. Nothing you could do would make me less interested in dating you. We've known each other long enough that I know nothing about you is a dealbreaker."

"Right. Um. We'll... see about that," Shinichi croaks, which is ominous. Exhaling slowly, he pushes a hand through his hair until it stands up around his head. "So, uh, that person—they're a good friend. I really like spending time with them." He swallows. "They, um, asked me out. Just a little bit before I asked you out, actually. Obviously I turned them down, because I—I have feelings for you. You know."

Kaito… is not sure where this is going. Unless, he thinks with burgeoning panic, within the last few hours Shinichi's somehow figured out that Kaito's actually Kid, and now he's realizing that he doesn't want to date Kaito because he's not interested in Kid? The crème brûlée threatens to make a reappearance. He forces himself to take a deep breath.

"Okay," he says slowly. "And?"

Shinichi makes a frustrated noise and buries his face in his hands.

"It's insane," he mumbles, muffled. "The person who asked me out—this is going to sound insane, I know, but I don't even know if they're a man or woman or how old they are. I don't know what their face looks like or what their voice really sounds like. I don't even know their name. All I know is that I can't stop thinking about them, even when I'm here with you." He peels his fingers away from his eyes just enough to give Kaito a pained, desperate look. His bottom lip is shaking. "I don't know what's wrong with me. You're here, I like you, and yet I—I'm still wondering what they're doing and how they're feeling and how much I hurt them when I turned them down." His shoulders sag. "I'd understand if you didn't want to do this anymore. I know it's ridiculous that I'm—hung on someone I don't even really know, but. That's how I feel."

Kaito freezes, his brain doing the human version of a full systems reboot, before he starts laughing sort of maniacally, shoulders shaking as he lets his head fall backwards. Shinichi emerges from his cocoon of Byronic hero pain to goggle at him, possibly concerned for Kaito's wellbeing.

"Oh, God," Kaito says, once he's recovered enough to meet Shinichi's eyes. "Oh my God."

"That…may not have been the response I was expecting." Shinichi is squinting at him with something not dissimilar to suspicion. "I don't see how me already emotionally cheating on you on our first date is funny."

"Believe me, it's pretty funny." Kaito grins at Shinichi, who's now frowning at him in a way that implies he's trying to inspect Kaito for psychological disorders. With a dramatic cough, he clears his throat and mentally tunes his voice into his favorite disguise—girly, sweet, not too high. He takes a deep breath, experiencing a single, crystal-clear moment of relief, before he says, his voice distinctly not his own, "At least, I think it's pretty funny. But we really made a mess of things, didn't we, tantei-kun?" He winks, smirking so hard his face hurts.

For a full twenty seconds, Shinichi stares at him, pink mouth slightly open, as everything apparently clicks into place. Then he tackles Kaito to the ground and attacks him with his mouth. Kaito, predictably, puts up very little resistance.

They break apart after a good few minutes, Shinichi gasping for air as he sits back, straddling Kaito's thighs. Kaito can't stop staring at him, at the way he glows in the moonlight like something ethereal and otherworldly, at the way he's glaring at Kaito so hard Kaito feels as if he might catch on fire.

"You double-dipped friendships," Shinichi accuses, which makes limited sense to Kaito's Shinichi-drunk brain. Kaito just grins dopily back at him, even as he jabs a finger against Kaito's chest and huffs. "You're literally two of my best friends. What the hell. Who does that, Kaito. How long have we known each other? And you never thought it might be a good idea to let me know that you're, like, half my friendship circle?"

"I know, right, I'm the worst," Kaito replies agreeably, running his hands up and down Shinichi's sides just to watch him shiver and go pliant.

"You," Shinichi starts and then stops when Kaito surges up to attach his lips to Shinichi's neck and wrap his arms around Shinichi's waist. He smells incredible. He tastes even better. Kaito tells him as much, and Shinichi emits a pained sound and paws at Kaito's shoulders.

"I'm, you, I can't believe," he stammers, clearly with a valiant effort, before he cuts out entirely. Kaito grins against his collarbone, probably too smugly, because Shinichi wrenches out of his grip and stumbles for Kaito's front door. When Kaito sighs, he gives Kaito a thousand-yard stare over his shoulder, knocking pointedly on Kaito's doorjamb.

"Kaito, I'm not getting deflowered on your front lawn," he snaps, and Kaito misses a step—he somehow managed to forget about that little piece of information; how, he honestly doesn't know—before he trips up to the front door and starts to fumble around for his keys. Shinichi notices. His smile goes predatory as his hands slither around to clench in the fabric of Kaito's shirt.

Kaito is breathing unhealthily fast.

"I think you said something about my legs, didn't you? Posing over tables? Maybe we can do something with that, Kid," Shinichi murmurs before he kisses the side of Kaito's jaw.

Needless to say, Kaito drops his keys four more times before he gets the door open.

"I'm dating Shinichi," Kaito says proudly. Aoko, who's stirring cream into her coffee, looks unimpressed.

"Congratulations," she offers, eyebrows raised, and takes a sip of her coffee. "I never want to get any shit from you about dating an emotionally immature, Sherlock Holmes-obsessed, murder-loving police officer ever again."

Remember when I used to post fic one a week? Yeah. Sorry.

If you enjoyed this fic, please consider dropping me a review, and I'll see you soon! Maybe! Hopefully! - Luna