Warnings: Ignorance of actual medical effects of being shot, ignorance of how to treat a bullet wound, ignorance of what qualifies a bullet wound as life-threatening, ignorance of where "vital organs" are in the body, ignorance of how to actually cure blood loss, ignorance of what it's like to be shot in general, being too lazy to look up the necessary information.

However, I am quite well-versed in how to describe characters as being extremely sexy.

…

Uh, yeah… well, without further ado, enjoy! – Luna

Distracting

Damn it.

Damn it.

Did he know what he was doing?

Kudou Shinichi stood calmly in his doorway, head tilted curiously at Kuroba Kaito. This would not be a particularly strange occurrence, had it not been for the fact that the detective was not wearing a shirt.

And even that wouldn't have been too strange, really, but it seemed Shinichi had just gotten out of the shower. Again, not unusual. The fact that it was currently July and over a hundred degrees was also nothing out of the ordinary as well.

But those facts put together meant a Shinichi fresh out of the shower, wearing only a pair of jeans that somehow managed to be loose around the hips (but marvelously snug everywhere else), with water still slicked over his (very nicely defined) abdomen, hair spiky and sparkling with droplets of water, looking both literally and figuratively hot...

Well. That was a different story entirely.

It was one that could make Kaito easily forget that he was kindofsortofmaybe bleeding all over Shinichi's doorstep and was probably attracting quite a lot of attention, seeing as he was still clad in his bright white Kid ensemble.

"Oi, Kuroba!" hissed Shinichi in horror. "What the hell happened to you?"

Perhaps it was the pain or maybe even the intense heat, but it took Kaito a good half minute to realize that he was being addressed and rip his gaze away from the attractiveness that was Kudou Shinichi to actually answer his question.

Clearing his throat, Kaito managed a casual, "Oh, nothing. I was just in the neighborhood."

Shinichi leveled him a blank stare. Kaito noted how he was distractingly good-looking even when he was being sarcastic. "You were bleeding to death. In the neighborhood."

"Or I got shot at a heist," offered Kaito, smiling weakly as he swiped at the sheen of sweat plastered across his forehead. "Are you going to make me stand outside or will you invite me in and offer me a proverbial cup of tea?"

"I can offer you a painkiller and medical aid, and then we'll see about tea," growled Shinichi, grabbing Kaito's hand and dragging him inside the Kudou mansion. "The one night I don't attend your heist, you get shot," he groused, leading Kaito into the kitchen. "And I'm the one with corpse attraction abilities."

Kaito only gave a light laugh, wondering if he was delirious for feeling a wave of dizzying elation roll through his stomach at the feel of Shinichi's hand locked around his. He momentarily wondered where his gloves had gone, but soon forgot when Shinichi plunked Kaito down in a kitchen chair, towering over him and glaring at his injuries critically. A frown carved itself deep into Shinichi's brow as he observed the wounds.

Kaito jumped in surprise, his side twinging painfully, as the detective abruptly kneeled and positioned himself between Kaito's legs. The sight of the shirtless man between his legs was rather... interesting, and Kaito was about to nervously inquire as to what exactly Shinichi was doing when he realized Shinichi was trying to get a closer look at the gunshot wound on the left side if his lower abdomen.

"I was going to treat the minor cuts and bruises, but that bullet wound is actually worse than I thought. You weren't just grazed - I think it actually went all the way through about an inch underneath the far edge of the ribcage, but it probably missed any vital organs. It seems a little superficial," Shinichi murmured, mostly to himself, as he continued inspecting. He placed his hands gently on Kaito's thighs - the magician froze - and leaned forward to examine the injury. "Hmm... It's probably not life-threatening, but all the same, let's get you bandaged up. I think you must've lost a lot of blood coming all the way here…" His voice was reprimanding, and Kaito only nodded, unable to not notice how he was still between Kaito's legs oh my God what.

Shinichi rose and removed himself from Kaito, pulling the thunderstruck man to his feet. "We're going to my room. I'll take care of it there."

"Your room. Okay," muttered Kaito, debating whether he should let his less than pure thoughts continue to run rampant.

The decision was made for him as Shinichi rather unsexily tossed him down on the bed, harshly demanded he not move, and clopped off, presumably to retrieve medical supplies.

Kaito smirked. Same old, same old. He squinted at the ceiling as it appeared to melt. Hmm. Maybe he wasn't doing as well as he thought. He had bled a lot before he'd actually arrived at Shinichi's house, after all…

Actually, why had he gone to Shinichi's house? He could've gone home and treated himself, seeing as he was still conscious and the wound wasn't fatal, and his own house was probably closer to where his heist and subsequent shooting had occurred…

Maybe his pain-crippled mind had decided that scavenging for bandages in his own bathroom cabinet by himself would be much less beneficial than staggering to Beika and receiving attention from Shinichi, despite that he was much more likely to die?

A smile ghosted over his lips, and he adjusted his position to make it more comfortable. Well, if he did die, at least it would be with Shinichi, right?

Despite the depressing morbidity of the thought, it was somehow comforting.

The (still shirtless) man himself chose that moment to reappear by Kaito's side. Through Kaito's blurring vision, Shinichi appeared to be carrying a large amount of bandages and medicines.

"You're back," croaked Kaito, trying for a smile as his eyelids started to drop down. He was really starting to feel weak – now that he'd made it to Shinichi's house, he had lost the will to stay awake.

"Damn, you lost more blood than I thought," swore Shinichi, setting down the supplies hastily. "Hospitals usually treat for this kind of thing with an IV, since giving fluids by the mouth isn't good… I don't have an IV obviously, dammit!" He rubbed back his hair, looking exasperated and still very attractive. "I wonder if Haibara has one…"

"I'll be fine, Shinichi," coughed Kaito, flinching at the way his side stung. The detective scowled and rummaged around in his box of materials. Kaito watched for a moment before timidly asking, "Before you start fussing over me, could you put on a shirt?"

Because really, it was distracting.

"No," snapped Shinichi, sounding peeved as he pressed a damp cloth to Kaito's clammy forehead and a sterile pad to his wound in a last-ditch attempt to stop the bleeding. "Not while you're dying right here and it's thirty million degrees out." He paused, pushing the slightest bit harder. "And did you just call me by my first name?"

"Did I, Shinichi?" Kaito managed a weary smile. Was it just him or was the room spinning? He clutched at the sheets. "Shinichi…" he murmured, and Shinichi shot him a very worried glance, applying a little more force.

"You're going to pass out, aren't you?" he said in a resigned tone.

"Mmhm… Shinichi…" Kaito's eyelids took this chance to fall down fully, covering his indigo irises as he drifted into unconsciousness.

Shinichi stared down at his patient, biting his lip. Seriously, to open his front door and find Kaito appearing to be nearly dead… he'd almost had a heart attack, and not just from the amount of blood he knew Kaito must've lost and the way Kaito's smile was rough with pain and exhaustion.

He'd honestly thought Kaito was about to die, and that had scared him more than anything. More than facing the Black Organization had. More than all the times Ran had been held hostage. More than… more than anything.

…Oh my God, he was getting sappy, wasn't he? The great Kudou Shinichi was getting sappy over some guy who was his former rival and whom he'd only known for a year as a civilian.

Was this an all-time low or what?

Sighing, Shinichi stared down at the man's smooth, serene face, all the Kid ironed out of it until it was simply peaceful and flat. He didn't usually get to see Kaito like this. It seemed like Kaito was always either forcing an exuberant grin for the others or beaming at Shinichi.

Actually, Shinichi didn't quite mind it when Kaito beamed at him. He just hated the way Kaito seemed to need some kind of mask to face everyone else – one that hid what he was feeling and convinced everyone that he was eternally cheerful.

Belatedly realizing that he should probably save these kinds of pointless and disturbing thoughts for a time where Kaito might not be bleeding all over his bed, Shinichi leaned over to examine the wound once again. He was pretty sure he needed to clean it now and try to get it bandaged…

…which would require taking off Kaito's clothes.

Oh joy.

This was about to get awkward, wasn't it?

Swallowing (and trying to ignore the acute awareness that sprang up when he realized he was half naked himself), Shinichi slowly began unbuttoning the jacket of Kaito's Kid suit. He lifted Kaito off the bed a few inches to pull the bloodstained cape out from underneath him, folding it neatly and setting it aside before starting on the tie and shirt. Repeating the process, Shinichi had Kaito stripped to only his pants in moments.

Shinichi drew in a breath. Okay, so Kaito had a bit more muscular definition than he'd been expecting. That definitely wasn't the point right now, and the fact that Kaito was covered in a thin layer of dewy sweat that glossed over his abdomen smoothly wasn't either. And then the way Kaito's skin was silky and lightly tanned underneath the moisture wasn't the point at all.

The gaping wound located near the left side of Kaito's stomach was, dammit!

Forcing back a few unholy scenarios – seriously, this was not normal, because who has that kind of thought about their best friend of the same gender while treating the aforementioned best friend's bullet wound?! – Shinichi set to work cleaning the wound, hurrying to wrap a sterile bandage tightly around Kaito's abdomen.

He stepped back to admire his work for a second, wiping his damp brow. Before him, Kaito shifted slightly, muscles flexing and loosening underneath his skin as he pulled in a heavy breath, forehead beaded with sweat.

Ooookay then.

Commanding his brain to stop conjuring those goddamn images, Shinichi retreated to his desk, deciding that being near the mess of sexy that Kaito currently was would not be the best of ideas.

Wait, did he just refer to Kaito as a "mess of sexy"?

On the bed, Kaito gave a soft mewl and shifted again, one shoulder lifted towards his face, which tipped back, exposing the soft, gleaming expanse of his neck.

…Yes, that was an accurate description. A more than accurate description.

Shinichi momentarily wondered if all unconscious people moved this much as Kaito sighed and relaxed, head falling forward and shoulder dropping back down.

He hovered by his desk for a second, on the verge of turning tail and fleeing (because seriously, Kaito was too damn distracting), but the thought of Kaito dying and the sudden realization that he still hadn't treated Kaito's minor injuries kept him in the room.

Approaching the bed, Shinichi cautiously grabbed a pack of antibacterial wipes and Band-Aids, raking over Kaito's body for any small cuts or bruises.

He spotted a cut underneath Kaito's collarbone, and Shinichi moved in, pressing a wipe against it and apologizing inwardly as Kaito visibly flinched – did it really sting that much?

Shinichi was surprised, though, when Kaito actually stirred, eyes slowly opening.

"Oi, fall back unconscious, otherwise this is going to hurt," ordered Shinichi, poking Kaito in the cheek as he attached a bandage to the cut. He was about to start on a bruise he'd noticed on Kaito's arm, but the arm suddenly lifted and grabbed Shinichi's.

"Kuroba…" Shinichi growled. "I need to treat you. Stop moving."

"Shinichi," whispered Kaito, eyes a sleepy, delirious indigo.

Gritting his teeth in slight embarrassment – really, what was up with Kaito suddenly calling him by his given name, anyway? Way to make the already awkward situation even more awkward – Shinichi gently tried to pry Kaito's hand off his own to no avail. "Seriously, Kuroba?"

Kaito only gave a smirk and, with strength that stunned Shinichi, yanked down on Shinichi's hand, pulling him down onto the bed. Shinichi landed with a startled "mmph?!" that was quickly silenced by the presence of Kaito's lips smashed against his.

The kiss was clumsy and borderline unromantic, seeing as Kaito was only half-conscious and Shinichi was too surprised to react properly, but nonetheless, Shinichi found himself enjoying it. And he didn't resist when Kaito deepened the contact, actually… kissing him back.

Oh God.

He finally shoved Kaito away none too gently, panting and glaring. "You're going to die early, Kaito," he snarled without real anger, the easy manner that Kaito's name had slipped from his lips going unnoticed by both him and the magician.

A smile curved Kaito's lips as his eyes started to close again. "Well, if I do die early, it'll be with you. Dying with someone you love… doesn't sound too bad, really."

Shinichi was wide-eyed at Kaito's confession for a good minute before he realized what exactly had just happened. Starting, he hurried to pull himself off the bed – not really because he was scared of Kaito, more because he didn't want to hurt him inadvertently – but Kaito's arm stayed locked around him, holding him close. Close enough to count Kaito's eyelashes, close enough to notice the tiny curl still present on Kaito's lips, close enough to feel his breath…

Hmm.

Smiling softly, Shinichi settled back, deciding that treating Kaito's other wounds could wait a little. Just a little.

After all, Kaito was just too distracting.

This was originally just going to be plotless fluff about sexual tension, but noooooooo, I had to throw in some weird kinky bullet wound thing. Just so everyone's clear, I have no idea what it's like to be shot, unconscious, or taking care of a bullet wound and/or how the human body functions, works, and looks when shot, so if you're about to write a pissed off "that's not how getting shot works, dumbass" review, please take a deep breath and don't post it because otherwise I'll be depressed for weeks and you will not receive anymore pointless oneshots from me.

...Actually, I think I might've given you a reason to write a pissed off "that's not how getting shot works, dumbass" review. But still. Don't write one.

Sooooo... I think that's about it for now. This still isn't the fic mentioned in Hopeful Romantic, because I reread that and decided it was too awful to post. (If you want to know what it's about, I've got four words for you: Hotel room. One bed.)

Well, drop me a review if you feel like it. I recently discovered that most authors respond to their reviews (!) and I never have, so I'm going to try to do that from now on.

(Wow. One year on FF and I've pretty much never responded to a review. *sigh*)

See you around, my darlings! - Luna