So this fic is a day later than I usually post, but it's a birthday fic for Shinichi, so I feel I'm totally justified. Totally. Even though this fic is pretty pointless and kind of terrible. Yeah.

Anyway, warnings include shounen-ai, grammar mistakes / errors, drinking, mentions of stripping, etc., etc. You know, the usual things you can find in my fics.

Enjoy! - Luna

Party Hard, Kids

Shinichi's twenty-second birthday had been going perfectly fine, possibly even well, until Hattori appeared out of nowhere, knocked Shinichi's nineteenth shot out of his hand (and what a pity – Shinichi had been going for a symbolic twenty two), shoved a very confused-looking man at him, and shouted, "I hired you a Kid impersonator!" over the loud strains of overprocessed pop music.

(The music was absolutely awful, like something created by someone who wholeheartedly believed that country and Italian opera went well together. Who had chosen this club, again? Oh, right, it had been Ran… who was now out on the dance floor proving that she could seriously consider going into pole dancing if her teaching career didn't work out. Huh. Funny, that.)

Refocusing his attention on both his best friend and the poor unfortunate soul whom Hattori had probably yanked off the street, Shinichi yelled back, "What? Why would you do that?" He wasn't sure how much of that made it out of his mouth in coherent sentences, but considering that there seemed to be three Hattoris (a very disturbing sentiment) in front of him, he couldn't be bothered to try to repeat himself.

"I hired you a Kid impersonator!" Hattori repeated, somehow louder this time. The man beside him – who did sort of look like Kid, to his credit, although Shinichi couldn't tell how much of the resemblance was alcohol-aided power of suggestion – flinched and took several steps away from the tan detective.

"I'm not," the man began, but Hattori steamrolled over him merrily.

"Yeah, so I found him out on the street, and I gave him money! So much money," Hattori sighed, wistfully, as if bemoaning the loss of his "so much money."

The man – bless his soul, really – somehow managed to look even more bewildered. "You gave me a hundred yen –"

"So," Hattori interrupted, clapping the man on the shoulder hard enough that both Hattori and the man winced (Hattori because his hand probably hurt; the man probably because his shoulder was now dislocated). "I paid him, and he's all yours, Kudou. Coincidentally, I also bought you a hotel."

Shinichi blinked, bringing one hand to his heart. He missed. It ended up on the side of his face, but the feeling was undiminished.

"Hattori," he said, awestruck by his best friend's generosity. "You didn't."

"Wait, that's wrong." Hattori furrowed his brow. "I rented you a hotel room. Yeah." He pointed in the general direction of nowhere. "Over there."

"Oh," Shinichi mumbled, deflating, and Hattori grinned.

"But I got you the Kid impersonator, see?" He reached out and shoved the man at Shinichi. "Isn't that better than a whole hotel? You're so welcome, Kudou. Have fun with your fake Kid. You can take him to the room I rented you. He'll probably let you grope him like you've always wanted to grope Kid, if you ask nicely."

"I would never –" Shinichi squawked in a scandalized tone as his face went bright red, but Hattori was already gone, wading through the crowd to collect Kazuha from where she was being hit on by several different men (poor girl).

There was an awkward silence for a long moment before the Kid impersonator said, "So you're a Kid fan, I take it?"

Despite the way Shinichi sensed some kind of irritating amusement underlying the question, he nodded enthusiastically. "Mmhm!"

"Really? You do?" If there was surprise in the man's voice, Shinichi choice to ignore it in favorite of nodding frantically.

"Kid's great. Love him." He smiled happily at the thought. Oh, yes, he loved Kid. Kid was his favorite. Kid was the prettiest person he'd ever known.

Shinichi realized he may have said that aloud when the man made a strangled, surprised sound beside him.

"Don't give me that," Shinichi groaned, flapping a hand at him. He rubbed absently at an unidentifiable stain on the bar's countertop. "You might not know it, but me and Kid? We go way back. And even if he can be an asshole and really annoying, he's not a bad person, actually. Really. At all."

"That's not why I was surprised," the man told Shinichi, barely audible over the music. Shinichi wrinkled his nose, straining to hear. "Most people adore Kid. I was just surprised that you do, since you're that famous detective, aren't you?"

"I am, aren't I?" Shinichi grinned crookedly.

"What?"

"Famous. A famous detective," Shinichi answered, ignoring the man's snort. He straightened imperiously. "And just because I'm a famous detective doesn't mean I can't want Kid. Even if he's a criminal. Like I said – he's not, not a bad person, right?"

The man's smile was evident in his voice. "Oh, you want Kid?"

Frowning a little – was it just him, or did the man sound weirdly self-satisfied? – Shinichi turned to look at him for the first time. The cheap club lights cast shadows across the man's face, darkening the spaces underneath his cheekbones and brow, but even so, Shinichi could appreciate the beauty of his features, from the messy, dark tips of his hair to the indigo of his eyes. And strangely enough, he actually looked – familiar.

Without thinking, Shinichi reached out to grasp the man's face in his hands. The man made a shocked noise, the line of his throat undulating as he swallowed, and Shinichi hummed soothingly as he brushed his thumbs across the man's cheekbones, turning his head from side to side.

"Y'know," Shinichi began after a long moment, "you really do look exactly like Kid."

"Oh," replied the man, and there was definitely an hint of amusement there this time, "do I."

"You do," confirmed Shinichi contemplatively. Yes, this man looked exactly as Shinichi always pictured Kid would without the top hat and monocle. It was uncanny.

He made to remove his hands from the man's face, but the man reached up and held his wrists in place. His hands were warm, Shinichi noted absently. Not soft, no, too calloused and a little work-roughened, but warm all the same.

"Can I confirm," the man murmured, voice low as he looked at Shinichi through his eyelashes in a way that had Shinichi swallowing dryly, "why your friends wanted to hire a Kid impersonator for your birthday?"

Sweeping his tongue over his suddenly dry mouth (and not missing the way the man's eyes zeroed in on the motion), Shinichi stuttered, "Well, I mean – I did say that – I've been obsessed with him for nearly three years now," and hated how his voice trembled the slightest bit.

Something in the man's face softened, sweetened, and he smiled as he said, "He has been, too," and - and moved in to –

"No," Shinichi half-shrieked, eliciting stares from other clubgoers. He yanked his hands out of the man's grip and shoved him back, flailing a little. The man nearly toppled over. "Bad Kid impersonator. I don't – I don't want to do anything with anyone but Kid." He scowled, jabbing a finger at the man's chest (or where the man's chest appeared to be). "And you're not – not Kid, right, so I can't do that with you. Don't touch me."

For a long, long moment, the man just gaped at him, and then he had the gall to laugh. Shinichi glared as much as he could, despite that he was having trouble focusing his vision.

"Okay," the man finally said, grinning, "okay, I got it. Calm down." He gently removed Shinichi's hands from his person. "I won't try to do anything, but promise me you won't be pissed at me in the morning for this."

Shinichi gasped, scandalized. "Excuse you, there will not be a you in the morning –"

"Sure," the man nodded in a manner that made Shinichi want to forcibly pull the smile off his face, "of course. But I'm going to take you back home now - not to the hotel, but to your house - because you look as if you're about to either pass out or throw up. Are you okay with that?"

Eyeing him suspiciously, Shinichi asked, "Are you serious?"

"Of course. When am I ever not serious, tantei-kun?"

The appellation made Shinichi blink, but he recovered. Everyone knew about Kid's little nickname for him, right? Right.

"Well," he finally said after a long, long moment, "okay."

Ugh, Shinichi was going to kill whoever invented alcohol. Or possibly Ran, who had instigated the whole thing with her suggestion of the club. And maybe also Hattori, because Hattori was generally to blame whenever Shinichi woke up in the morning with a vague feeling that he'd somehow done something that might end up on the news. Although this time, he had some faint recollection of a… Kid impersonator?

Ha, Shinichi thought weakly as he stumbled down the hallway towards the staircase, as if. Not even Hattori was stupid enough to do something like that. Shoving the thought away, he rubbed at his temples, feeling as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to his head. God, his brain was going to combust.

He was halfway down the stairs, gripping the bannister with the strength of a drowning man, when Kaitou Kid stuck his head out of Shinichi's kitchen. "Oh! Tantei-kun, you're alive!"

Shinichi fell ungracefully down the rest of the stairs.

When he stopped groaning and managed to open his eyes again, Kid was standing over him with an annoyingly amused smile on his face. "Good morning to you, too."

"What," Shinichi croaked, his throat feeling drier than the Sahara Desert, "is happening right now?"

Kid waved a hand. "Well, I happened to be walking past the club you were at last night when Hattori came out of nowhere, shoved one hundred yen in my face, and screamed that I would make a great Kid impersonator for his best friend to molest. Naturally, I was intrigued, seeing as I knew Hattori-kun is your best friend. And I wasn't disappointed." He smirked in a way that made Shinichi want to either dissolve into tears or stab himself in the eye socket.

"I," he announced, solemnly, "am going to castrate Hattori."

"How violent of you." Eyebrows lifted, Kid extended a hand to help him up. Shinichi glared suspiciously at the proffered hand for a long moment. Kid had nice hands, he noted dreamily. Artistic fingers and well-shaped nails combined with calloused palms and roughened skin. Pretty, capable hands.

And then Shinichi realized what he was doing and gritted his teeth (the stupid crush thing was getting way out of hand) before he grabbed Kid's hand and yanked himself to his feet, his head just about shrieking with disapproval at the sudden movement. Kid's hand was insanely warm in his grip. "Thanks," he muttered under his breath, trying to avoid looking at the magician straight in the face.

He could feel Kid's gaze on him as he studied the floorboards intently and recited the period table of elements and generally tried to forget that Kid was standing him front of him (but to no avail).

There was a long silence.

"You know," the phantom thief finally said, pensively, "I seem to recall you saying that you were in love with me and that you've been obsessed with me for the past three years."

"What?" Shinichi's head immediately shot up, a jolt of pain exploding behind his eyes with the action. Reflexively, he reached up to grab at his face, but he halted abruptly when he realized Kid was still holding his hand.

"Tantei-kun," Kid breathed, and Shinichi was suddenly very, very aware of just how close Kid was standing to him, "have I mentioned that you're my favorite, too?"

"Um," Shinichi began articulately, but he didn't get the chance to complete his thought before Kid was kissing him as if he were something breakable, gently and chastely as he released Shinichi's hand in favor of cradling Shinichi's face, and it was perfect and warm and God, Shinichi was probably ruined for anyone else.

Okay, so maybe Shinichi could thank Hattori before he strangled him.

So, well. Um. Happy birthday, Shinichi!

As always, thank you for reading - if you enjoyed this fic, please considering dropping me a review! - and I'll see you all soon! Kisses! - Luna