No, I'm not dead. Bet you thought you'd seen the last of me, but nope. It takes a lot more to get rid of me. Sorry.

Basically, it came to my attention that despite my 142 fics, I had yet to write a fake relationship/pretend boyfriends AU, which is kind of a staple of slash fan fiction, so this is my attempt at remedying that. It – got out of hand. Very out of hand.

Warnings include shounen-ai, shoujo-ai (OC x OC), grammar mistakes / general errors, idiots being idiots, a million and eighteen plot holes that I was too lazy to fill, mild homophobia, a tiny bit of social commentary because I couldn't restrain myself in time, etc. Title from Elvis's "Can't Help Falling in Love" because I figured if I was going to write a classic slash fiction cliché, I might as well include the contrived Elvis.

Hope you enjoy! - Luna

Darling, So It Goes

Most of the time, Shinichi was willing to do any number of things to resolve a case. His own personal comfort generally wasn't a factor, as long as he could bring murderers and kidnappers and general wrongdoers to justice. Case in point: The many and varied things he'd done and still occasionally did in the name of catching Kaitou Kid (all before he'd met Kaito and found out the reasons for the thievery, of course), such as throwing himself off a high-rise building with a paraglider strapped to his back, allowing himself to be stun-gunned, etc.

So when Megure pulled Shinichi into his office one afternoon, smiling nervously, and asked, "Listen, Kudou-kun, could I ask for a favor? It's for a case," Shinichi was fully prepared to say yes.

He remained willing to accept as Megure waved his hands and prattled on, explaining that there was a couple who was wanted for stealing a priceless painting and who, according to police intel, was planning to sell it to a buyer at a convention at a high-end hotel in a few days. The background was basic and not all that engaging, and Shinichi silently wondered why Megure was coming to him with this. Wasn't art theft more Division Three's area?

"And so we need someone to infiltrate the – convention," Megure finished breathlessly. His smile was uncharacteristically nervous. Shinichi watched as a bead of sweat slid down his temple, changing course and slithering into his moustache at the last second.

"You want me to do it, don't you?" Shinichi shrugged. It seemed easy enough – all he'd have to do was go to the convention and somehow confirm that the couple was in possession of the painting, right? That would be enough to get them charged. "Okay. That doesn't sound so bad –"

"But you see," Megure hurried on, flinching backwards a bit as if he was expecting Shinichi to slap him or lunge at him over the desk, "it's a couples' convention. Er. Retreat, rather."

That was enough to make Shinichi take pause, but only momentarily. "I'm not in a relationship right now," he reminded Megure carefully, distinctly not thinking about the magician best friend he'd had the slightest crush on for a few years (because the crush was entirely negligible – and, well, also painfully unrequited, but the important bit was that it was absolutely, complete tiny and therefore not worth acknowledging in any manner). "I guess I could ask Ran to come with me, maybe. She might be up for it." She had been dating Eisuke for almost a year now, but he suspected she wouldn't mind spending a few days reminiscing about their awkward one-year relationship from their teenage years and pretending to be his girlfriend, just for the fun of it.

Megure winced so hard Shinichi spent a minute inspecting him for broken bones. "That's – well, that's where the problem comes in," he said, taking a full step backwards as if Shinichi was a hungry lion and he was a raw, tantalizing steak. "Er – the couple is, ah…" He cleared his throat loudly. "Their names are Takayama Arisa and Suzuki Junko."

It took Shinichi a moment to pick up on what exactly Megure was trying to imply. "Oh, they're both women." He blinked, confused. "What's the problem?"

"That – is the problem." When Shinichi scowled at him, Megure shook his head hurriedly. "No, I don't mean it like – that's not it. I mean…" He coughed into one hand so violently Shinichi half-expected him to eject a lung onto the polished wood of his desk. "I mean, the couples' retreat is for… that kind of couple."

"You… oh. Oh." It came together in Shinichi's head, then. He felt himself going red. Now it made sense. "Oh, it's for… oh."

"Exactly." Megure regarded him delicately. "Now, if you're unwilling to do it, we'll understand. We can try to recover the painting some other way."

"But this is the easiest, cleanest way," Shinichi mumbled. Megure wouldn't have asked for his assistance if it hadn't been. He sighed heavily, resigned. Logically, he knew what he had to do, but viscerally, it seemed so – so – he just didn't want to do it. Mostly because in some small, quietly terrified part of his mind, he already knew how this was probably – was definitely – going to turn out. In a fit of sullenness, he asked, "Why can't any of the officers from Division Three do this? There are bachelors and bachelorettes who could partner up."

"The convention is in support of younger couples," Megure informed him, no longer as tense when he was sure Shinichi wasn't going to go for his jugular with the fountain pen on his desk. (Shinichi was a little offended that Megure thought he'd react so terribly to the idea of going to a same-sex couples' retreat, especially seeing as Shinichi was – well, he sort of had a thing for someone of his same sex). "None of the officers are young enough to participate, and you're the only person who's in the right age group and someone we could trust we this sort of thing. Obviously you're going to have to wear a disguise since your face is fairly well known, but I'm sure you can figure something out."

"Right." Shinichi ran a hand through his hair until it stood up in unattractive tufts. "I guess I'd better go find a fake boyfriend."

"Do you have someone in mind?" Megure asked hesitantly.

Shinichi thought of Hattori, still in the pet-name-using honeymoon stage of his relationship with Kazuha, and then Hakuba, happily engaged to Aoko and deciding on monogrammed wedding invitations and whether waffle makers belonged on the gift registry, and the corner of his brain that had long since realized the forgone conclusion groaned along with the rest of him.

"I do," he answered, rubbing at the inner corners of his eyes. Unfortunately, he tacked on internally. "Don't worry about the disguise part. It definitely won't be a problem."

Kaito stared across the coffee table at Shinichi. Seconds ago, he had been making marshmallows appear out of nowhere, making them bob like fluffy white ducks on the peaceful lake of Shinichi's hot chocolate, and laughing when Shinichi complained about not liking his drinks so sweet, but now he was carved out of marble, eyebrows straining to reach his hairline as his hands twitched in his lap. A marshmallow rolled over and drowned in the depths of Shinichi's mug, much like Shinichi wanted to at that very moment. Because judging from Kaito's expression, he definitely shouldn't have asked.

Right when Shinichi was about to try to pretend the whole suggestion was an elaborate April Fools' Day prank (which, upon further consideration, might be a tiny bit difficult, due to the fact that it was the middle of December), Kaito unfroze, blinking rapidly. "You need me to –"

"It's okay, you don't have to," Shinichi cut in, pretending that he wasn't trying to become one with the floor. "It was just – I know you probably don't want to do it, and – I just – I thought, you know, maybe you might be willing to try – it's stupid, sorry –"

Kaito cleared his throat pointedly, one side of his mouth twitching upwards in a smirk, and Shinichi's teeth audibly clamped shut on another babbling sentence fragment. His face was on fire. Nice going, Shinichi. You're probably scaring him off even more.

He was so busy mentally bashing himself over the head with a blunt object that he almost missed Kaito's almost fond, halfway amused, "Yeah, yeah. Okay. I'll do it."

It took Shinichi a moment to unglue his tongue from the roof of his mouth and get out a shocked, "What."

Reaching for his mug, Kaito shrugged nonchalantly. "Sure, I'd love to pretend to be your fake boyfriend at a couples' retreat so we can catch a pair of art thieves," he enunciated as the rim of his cup swallowed the bottom half of his face. "Sounds fun." When he pulled his cup away from his face, there was half-melted whipped cream on his nose. It was sort of adorable.

Shinichi could only manage a strangled scraping noise that made his throat ache more than anything else. "Are you… you're really willing to do this?" he mumbled weakly when Kaito frowned at him, for lack of something more intelligent to say. He was still processing, okay? It wasn't every day he found out that Kaito wasn't completely averse to the idea of dating Shinichi in some capacity.

"Is there any reason why I wouldn't agree to it?" Kaito asked slowly, setting down his mug and swiping the whipped cream off his nose with the sleeve of his sweater. "I mean, it's for a good reason, isn't it?" He grinned, sunbeam-bright and abruptly gorgeous. "And you're quite the catch, my sweet Shinichi-kun. You're the whole package, aren't you?" He leaned forward onto one hand. "Anyone would be lucky to have you as their boyfriend."

"Sure, sure," Shinichi told him, attempting to distract from the startled blush audible in his voice with a glare as he accidentally knocked a hand against his hot chocolate. Kaito complimenting him was nothing new – if meaningless flirting was an Olympic sport, Kaito would be a reigning gold medalist – but in this context? Before Kaito was about to pretend to be his boyfriend? It just felt – different. Worse, probably.

Shoving the thoughts back where they came from (because that was a dangerous path to go down, one that would inevitably end in heartbreak and despair), Shinichi cleared his throat and folded his hands in front of him. "So. Let's come up with a back story." At Kaito's confused blink, he elaborated, "How we met, how long we've been, um, together, you know. Basic couple stuff for when someone asks."

Kaito frowned. It was a good look on him – everything was a good look on him; Kaito was the type of person who wore confusion like a three-piece suit – but it still worried Shinichi. When Kaito frowned, bad things happened –

He was proven right when Kaito blithely asked, "What's wrong with our actual story?" and Shinichi had to resist the urge to bang his head against the table. He was in love with an idiot.

"Because," Shinichi informed him primly, once the urge to maim himself had dissipated for the most part. "First of all, we don't exactly have the most romantic story, so." Because there was, unfortunately, no romance between them at all. "Second of all, we met when I was Conan and you were Kid."

Affronted, Kaito sat back in his seat. "I think what we've got is plenty romantic," he said mulishly, crossing his arms over his chest. "We're, like, romance novel status. People should write songs about us. We deserve a movie."

Shinichi gaped at him, confused horror rising from the pit of his stomach. Were they actually, legitimately having this conversation? Was this reality? Was Shinichi hallucinating? Because this felt lightyears beyond Kaito's overblown compliments and stupid roses and shit-eating smirks. This was him actually saying that they had a romantic relationship. Shinichi wasn't sure if he should be worried, reluctantly charmed, or blushing four different shades of red, so he did all at once.

"Whatever you say," he finally agreed, waving a hand as if trying to physically blow away the remnants of that. "But the fact remains that we can't exactly say, 'Oh, yeah, I was shrunken by an evil organization so I looked like I was six and we met on a windy rooftop in the middle of the night when I tried to stop you, a wanted gentleman thief, from stealing a pearl.' Not exactly believable."

"Because it's so romantic," Kaito interrupted, looking smug. "It's the epitome of a romance novel first meeting. There were fireworks in the background. Stars in the night sky. City lights in the distance. Romantic." He made a hand motion that Shinichi tiredly assumed meant something positive.

"Don't forget the helicopters and shouting police and the fact that I was trying to arrest you," Shinichi reminded him.

"A bit of action makes everything better," Kaito said stubbornly.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Shinichi exhaled slowly. "Kaito?"

Kaito batted his obscene eyelashes at him. "Yes, sweetheart?"

"Shut up and help me come up with something we can actually use."

"I can't exactly do both of those things at the same time, you know."

"You know what? Just shut up, then."

The bored-looking, gum-snapping girl behind the concierge desk barely looked up when Kaito skipped to a stop in front of her. Shinichi followed at a much less enthusiastic pace, despite that he wasn't even carrying any suitcases – sometime between the train ride over and the taxi they'd taken to the lavish, Western-styled hotel, they had "decided" (aka "argued about until Shinichi gave up") Kaito was the kind of boyfriend who carried all the luggage.

"You're here for the convention, then?" the girl was saying, eyeing Shinichi over Kaito's shoulder as he approached. She gave Shinichi an appraising look that made him desperately want a shower, and then nodded at Kaito approvingly. "Nicely done."

"Right? Isn't he lovely?" Kaito turned moony I can't believe you're mine eyes on Shinichi. He looked like what Shinichi imagined a portrait titled Idiotic Lovestruck Fool would look like, and it caused Shinichi physical pain right behind the sternum. It was only acting – that much was obvious – but Shinichi was having a hard time forgetting that, just because of how sincere and earnest Kaito seemed. Kaito, he decided wryly, was too good of an actor.

Clearing his throat, Shinichi pushed a hank of the itchy, light brown wig he'd chosen out of his face. The latex mask he was wearing – the face of a delicate-boned, narrow-eyed young man – chafed against his skin, prickly and stinging. "Kai-san, stop. You're embarrassing me," he murmured demurely, wincing as he hooked a hand around Kaito's arm as shyly as he could. Kaito smirked at him. Shinichi wanted to either kiss him or throw one of the decorative vases of roses sitting along the counter at his smug head. It was a very complicated feeling.

Meanwhile, the girl was digging around for her reservations book. "Names, please?" she asked once she had located it.

"Katou Shinsuke and Kuroo Kai," Kaito beamed, dropping the duffel bag in his left hand to wrap an arm around Shinichi's waist. His hands were hot, even on top of Shinichi's pea coat. Shinichi had to close his eyes and practice the yoga breathing techniques Ran had taught him. He should've asked Hattori, he should've asked Hakuba, he should've – found some random decently young male person and forced him to come with him, because doing this with Kaito might just be the thing that broke his brain. They'd been acting for less than ten minutes, and Shinichi could already feel the beginnings of an aneurysm.

The girl found their reservations within a few moments, handing them their keycards and directing them towards a gold-brushed elevator after foisting their luggage upon a harried bellboy. Shinichi marveled at the plush red carpet on the floor and the designs painted onto the walls. The handrails were hand-carved ebony. Upon closer inspection, the ends were carved into snarling, openmouthed lion heads. Shinichi was impressed against his will. "This is ridiculous."

"Don't be so impressed. If I was your boyfriend, I'd take you to this kind of place all the time," Kaito insisted, and Shinichi rolled his eyes. Sometimes it was good to remember that Kaito was an absolute idiot.

"I'll hold you to that," he remarked dryly as the elevator pinged elegantly (Shinichi hadn't realized dinging sounds could be elegant, but there it was) and the doors slid open, revealing an equally well-furnished hallway. There was the sort of minimalistic, polygon-dominated modern art that Shinichi was pretty sure people only pretended to enjoy hanging on the walls and an honest-to-God silver-plated urn sitting on a mahogany end table. "Wow."

Kaito made a soft snuffling sound at his side. "Come on, I think our room's down that way," he called as he set off down the hall.

Their room, as it turned out, was just as luxurious as the rest of the hotel. There were two rooms – a cherry wood-floored entry/living room that was more decorative than functional and a spacious bedroom with a looming floor-to-ceiling armoire and a glossy-screened TV set – as well as a bathroom that came with an oversized hot tub and grapefruit shower gel. Everything was pristine, from the sharply starched towels to the hospital corners on the bed.

Yes. The bed. Singular. As in. One.

"Kaito," Shinichi hissed from the doorway, clutching at air like a scandalized nun, "there's only one bed."

Kaito turned a Look on him from where he was starfishing across all four sections of the L-shaped leather couch in the useless living room. "This is a couples' retreat, Shinichi. What did you expect?"

Shinichi wringed his hands helplessly. "Maybe we're saving ourselves for marriage?" he tried.

"Shinichi," Kaito said carefully, "if we were dating, I don't think I could survive like that. Do you know what you look like?" He raised his eyebrows meaningfully as Shinichi suddenly felt as if the thermostat had been cranked up twenty degrees as he choked unattractively.

"I'm wearing a mask, so I don't exactly look like myself," Shinichi managed once he had untangled his tongue from his tonsils, and Kaito sighed.

"Look, you can phone down to the front desk and ask for a futon," he told him, rolling onto his stomach to bury his face in one of the silk cushions tucked against the arm of the sofa.

When Shinichi went to do just that, he discovered that their phone did not work. Some high-end hotel it was.

"The phone doesn't work," he hissed at Kaito, who lifted his head from the arm of the sofa just enough to blink at him. He paced the room, scratching furiously at where the mask ended several centimeters above his collarbone. "I'm going down to the desk."

"And what if someone hears you?" Kaito asked as Shinichi started for the door. Shinichi froze. "You'll blow our cover."

As much as Shinichi admired Kaito's intelligence, he sometimes hated it when he was right. "What do we do now?" he groaned, throwing his head back to glare at the spotless eggshell-white ceiling. It stared back at him blankly, unimpressed.

"Um, I don't know, share the bed?" Kaito offered, somehow both sarcastic and salacious, and Shinichi stalked across the room to smack him in the face with a couch cushion because one, that was Not Helpful, and two, he needed some method of distracting Kaito from the fact that his hands were shaking a little and sweat was sticking the mask to his face.

The two of them had been at the Official Meet and Greet (or so the program itinerary called it; Shinichi felt it was more of an awkward mingling at the hotel's too-classy bar, interspersed with a lot of uncomfortable, So, uh, how'd you two meets and you two are just the cutest, aren't they, dear?s) for almost an hour when they first saw Arisa and Junko.

"It's them," Shinichi murmured directly into Kaito's ear the moment he spotted the two of them entering the bar area. They looked exactly as they had in the basic case file Megure had given them – Arisa graceful and willowy and light-haired, Junko small and delicate and bright-eyed. They were young and beautiful and seemed more like the type of people that could be found on the front cover of lifestyle magazines, not wanted art thieves trying pull off a transaction.

Kaito, who had been in the middle of talking to a scrappy, starry-eyed kid one stool over, shivered and flinched away, one hand rising to palm at his neck. "Why are you breathing down my neck?" he demanded loud enough that the kid he had been talking to turned to look at Shinichi. He sounded so uncharacteristically defensive that Shinichi couldn't stop himself from raising his eyebrows at him, silently trying to communicate what the hell?

"Oh, I – I thought I saw Arisa-san and Junko-chan," he murmured, trying to sound repentant as his shy persona called for while glaring at Kaito as inconspicuously as possible. "I just… sorry."

Softening, Kaito dropped his hand away from his neck and cleared his throat. "I – sorry, Shin," he mumbled, and it might have been the murky mood lighting in the bar, but it almost seemed as if he was flushing a little, a pink shadow slowly sweeping up from beneath the collar of his shirt. "I… you startled me, that's all. I overreacted."

"Oh, that's all right, Kai-san," Shinichi assured him, though he gave Kaito a half-amused, half-exasperated look. Fitting his hand into the hinge of Kaito's arm, he leaned into Kaito, dropping his head onto his shoulder. Kaito stiffened beneath him, muscles going taut beneath Shinichi's fingertips. Shinichi frowned – did his touching Kaito make Kaito that uncomfortable? "But if you really want to make it up to me, you can come with me to go say hi to Arisa-san and Junko-chan."

"Right, of course," Kaito muttered faintly, turning to apologize to the kid who had watched the whole exchange. Sorry, Daisuke-kun. If you'll excuse us."

"Of course!" the kid squeaked, smiling invitingly at Kaito, and Shinichi tossed him a suspicious look as Kaito gently steered him towards the booth where Arisa and Junko were sitting together. This was a couples' retreat, wasn't it? But the guy was definitely making a move on Kaito, and as Kaito's boyfriend – pretend, the part of his brain unaffected by bitter jealousy reminded him, you haven't actually got any claim to him, and you'd do better not to forget that –

Shinichi didn't have any more time to analyze the guy before they were standing beside Junko and Arisa's booth. The two were hip to hip, talking in soft voices while Arisa traced nonsensical patterns along the curve of Junko's shoulder, when Kaito cleared his throat purposefully. "Mind if we join you?"

Blinking as she looked up at them, Arisa frowned for a moment before she donned a warm smile. It grew when her gaze dropped to where Shinichi's hand was still curled at the crook of Kaito's elbow. "Of course you can."

"Thanks," Shinichi said, casting a smile at Junko as he unlatched himself from Kaito and slid into the booth. Junko nodded hesitantly, curling into Arisa a little more. "I'm Katou Shinsuke."

"I'm Kuroo Kai," Kaito added, squeezing in beside Shinichi to drape an arm across his shoulders and press his thigh against Shinichi's. Shinichi allowed half a moment to luxuriate in the warmth he emanated before turning his attention back to Arisa and Junko.

"I'm Takayama Arisa. This is Suzuki Junko," Arisa responded, gesturing to Junko with a tipoff her head. Her gaze skittered between the two of them for a moment. "You two make an adorable couple, by the way."

Kaito grinned as Shinichi flushed behind the mask. "I don't know what I did to deserve him, to be honest," he admitted. His fingertips curled into the coarse bit of synthetic hair resting just above the collar of Shinichi's shirt, the pads of his fingers sweeping against the bare back of Shinichi's neck in a way that made Shinichi shiver. "I'm really lucky to have him." As he spoke, Kaito's breath ghosted over Shinichi's skin, traveling across the hollow of Shinichi's throat, warm and intimate –

"Stop it, Kai-san," Shinichi mumbled in a way that hopefully came off as bashful instead of vaguely turned on and a little panicked. "You're making me blush."

"Sorry, Shin," Kaito apologized, but he was smirking as he leaned in to drop a resounding and entirely unnecessary kiss on Shinichi's temple. Shinichi was surprised the mask hadn't melted straight off his face from how hot his cheeks felt. He rubbed absently at where the latex ended.

Arisa, who had observed this exchange with the same expression one might use when watching a pair of kittens get tangled up in yarn, smiled sunshine at them. (She really didn't seem like the art-stealing type, but then again, Shinichi reflected, he knew kindergarten teachers who'd committed serial murder.) She turned to beam at Junko. "They're so sweet. Aren't they, Junko?" Junko smiled at her, leaning up to kiss her gently on the corner of the mouth. Kaito's arm shifted into a slightly tighter grip around Shinichi, dragging him closer.

"I think the two of you are pretty sweet too," Shinichi remarked as he subtly moved a few centimeters away from Kaito and his octopus-y arms. Any closer and he'd be in Kaito's lap, which, while he didn't exactly object to that outcome, he doubted Kaito would be of the same opinion. There was a line, dammit. "What brings the two of you to a convention like this?"

If Shinichi hadn't been watching, he would have missed the way Junko's expression tightened near-imperceptibly. Arisa's pleasant smile didn't quite disappear, but it shrank visibly. "Oh, we just wanted to support the program planners," she said – it was the truth, but not the whole truth, Shinichi decided as he studied the way her brow creased just a little. "We as same-sex couples still don't have all the rights we deserve, and I'm sure you know as well as I do that there's no shortage of discrimination, so seminars like this are a nice retreat from that reality, so to speak."

"You're very right," Kaito agreed. When Shinichi tilted his head to meet his eyes, he looked startlingly serious, only the barest vestiges of his usual flippancy there. "We're a bit of a social taboo, aren't we? Misfits, outcasts. People treat you differently when they find out because you're different, or that you feel different things than they do." His eyes were hot on Shinichi's, as if they were trying to tell him something important, but whatever it was, it was in a language Shinichi couldn't quite comprehend. He was left blinking and feeling a bit stupid.

"That's true," Junko broke in. It was the first thing she'd said all night, and her voice was so quiet that Shinichi almost missed it entirely. When he managed to tear his gaze away from Kaito's and look at her, she was staring fixedly at the fine grain of the table, eyes hooded. Arisa was eyeing her with concern. "Sometimes I wish I wasn't like this."

"Junko," Arisa murmured softly, leaning in to whisper something in her ear. Shinichi abruptly felt as if he was intruding on an intensely private moment, as if he'd gotten a glimpse into someone's soul.

"Now look what you've done," he muttered, only half-joking, at Kaito, and Kaito shook his head. His eyes were still dark, as if someone had pulled blackout shades over them.

"I meant everything I said," he replied with resolution, and Shinichi turned to frown at him. Kaito wasn't even into men, so how could he possibly mean what he'd said?

"What are you saying? You're not –"

"I'm sorry about that this," Arisa cut in before Shinichi could finish. She was wearing an artificial smile when Shinichi and Kaito both looked back at her. One of her arms was hooked around Junko's back, hand resting protectively at the spot between the twin ladders of her ribs. "I didn't mean to bring this down so much. I think maybe we should turn in early."

"That's a good idea. I think Kai-san and I will as well," Shinichi hurried to agree. Trying to sound casual but not noticeably so, he wondered, "What floor are you two on? Is your room just as ridiculous as ours?"

Arisa nodded, looking relieved for a change of topic as she pulled Junko, who was still refusing to meet anyone's eyes, out of the booth. "We're on the sixteenth floor. Our room has an amazing view, too – we can see the entire city. It's gorgeous when the sun sets. Have you two got a hot tub in your room as well?"

"Oh, we're on the fifth floor, so we don't have that great of a view," Shinichi told her as he got to his feet, filing the information (sixteenth floor, facing west/towards the city) away for later use. He needed to install the bugs, after all. "But we do have a hot tub."

Shinichi was about to continue when a pair of arms locked around his waist and Kaito's head nestled into the spot between Shinichi's shoulder and head. "We could put that to good use when we get back to the room," Kaito offered, low enough to sound seductive but loud enough that Arisa heard and laughed.

"Kai-san," Shinichi – well, he would like to say that he didn't squeak, because he had his pride, but there wasn't really another word that described the sound he made. He swatted at Kaito's arms until Kaito let him go, turning to scowl at him. "You're shameless."

He might have injected too much of his usual acidic tone into that, because Junko made a soft, surprised noise and Arisa laughed louder. "Trouble in paradise?" she asked as she threaded a hand through Junko's hair. "Better tread carefully, Kuroo-san."

Kaito made a suitably chastised face. It was like looking at a kicked Labrador puppy. A surge of guilt swept through Shinichi like an electric current. He hadn't reacted unreasonably, so why did he feel so horrible?

"I should, shouldn't I?" Kaito remarked wryly. One of his hands hovered uncertainly beside Shinichi's waist as if he wasn't sure he wouldn't get slapped if he tried to touch Shinichi, and, with a sigh of longsuffering, Shinichi reached down to fit it in place. Absently, he realized that he had gotten addicted to the feeling of having Kaito draped around him within the span of several hours, which was kind of horrible considering this whole charade would be over within a matter of days, but he'd deal with the withdrawal when it came to it.

"Don't be like that. I'm not upset," he told Kaito, who was looking at him as if he'd never quite seen him. Steeling himself, he pressed a feather-light kiss against the cut of Kaito's jaw before he turned away, wanting desperately to adjust his mask. It was definitely chafing at this point. He didn't know how Kaito wore them all the time.

Meanwhile, Arisa cooed as she witnessed the exchange. "You two really are adorable," she beamed before bowing a little and shepherding Junko out of the bar.

"Well, that was amazing," Kaito commented after a moment. When Shinichi glanced at him, he was grinning dopily and touching the spot where Shinichi had kissed him with his free hand. The second he noticed Shinichi watching him, his lopsided smile grew. "I got a kiss from the great Kudou Shinichi, you know. This is the best day of my life."

Shinichi elbowed him in the side. "Don't get cocky," he said over Kaito's answering yelp of surprised pain and the way his own heart spluttered traitorously in his chest at the memory of Kaito's smile. He didn't think he'd ever seen Kaito smile like that, actually. It was both disconcerting and strangely awe-inducing that Shinichi was the one to put that smile on his face.

Throughout the whole meet and greet thing, Shinichi had somehow managed to forget about the whole bed situation. Which he promptly remembered the second they set foot back in the room.

"Oh, God." Shinichi froze in the middle of the living room/entry, staring at the innocent king-sized monstrosity with dawning horror. He scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I forgot about that."

Kaito, who had retrieved something from the luggage that had been delivered at some point, sauntered around Shinichi, and was now in the bathroom, poked his head back out as the sound of running water filled the room. He was grinning faintly, only a shallow curve to his mouth, but grinning nonetheless. "About what?"

Frowning at him – he'd been in an infuriatingly good mood all the way back to the room, keeping Shinichi tucked into his side as he hummed unfamiliar songs and wrapping his arms around Shinichi even in the elevator, when nobody else was around – Shinichi motioned pointedly at the bedroom. "The whole bed thing."

"Oh. Right." Kaito emerged from the bathroom fully, naked from the waist up. Shinichi hastily averted his eyes, but not before his brain excitedly informed him that for an amateur magician (though Shinichi found "amateur" a bit of a misnomer; Kaito was more talented than a lot of professional magicians), Kaito was surprisingly toned. As in. He had actual muscle definition. In the stomach and bicep regions. Um. What.

Panicking as he was, Shinichi was barely aware of Kaito saying, "Well, let's not worry about that for now. I'm using the hot tub. Want to join me?" Shinichi looked back at him just in time to catch the awful little eyebrow wiggle he did, which, had Shinichi not been a bit in love with him, Shinichi would've found completely off-putting. As it was, he just felt mildly horrified that he actually found Kaito and his eyebrows charming.

"You're horrible," Shinichi told him without real anger as he walked past the bathroom to throw himself on the bed and wallow. "No. I'll just shower after you."

He heard a huffed exhale. "No sense of adventure," Kaito sighed before the door swung shut. Moments later, the smell of grapefruit suffused the air, making Shinichi roll onto his back and stare up at the ceiling. He tried not to picture Kaito lounging in the bath, one heel balanced on the edge of the tub and his bare leg cutting a sharp right angle above the foam –

Right, okay, no, that was a bad idea. Shinichi scrambled for the TV remote and spent the next twenty minutes distracting himself by flipping through various terrible dramas and sitcoms instead of picturing his best friend bathing. It worked, mostly.

Kaito came out of the bathroom in a swirl of steam, wet-haired and rosy-cheeked soft-skinned. He was wearing a t-shirt that had a hole in the hem and a pair of loose pajama pants, and he looked like Shinichi's mental image of a modern-day god. "Go ahead," he told Shinichi, mussing his hair with a towel as he sat down on the bed. His shirt rode up with the motion.

Swallowing down the jolt of adoration that had leapt up his throat, Shinichi scurried to grab a pair of sweatpants and a shirt from his luggage and quickly ensconced himself in the bathroom. The surfaces were faintly damp with steam, and the mirror was fogged from each gilded edge to the other. Shinichi stared at his blurred, unfamiliar reflection for a long minute before he carefully removed his wig and mask and set them on the counter. His skin practically sobbed with relief – even with the mirror half-opaque, Shinichi could tell his face was worn to a sticky, splotchy rash-pink, almost as if he'd been sunburned. He sighed. He could tell it wasn't the most attractive he'd looked.

When Shinichi dragged himself out of the bathroom a few minutes later, clean but feeling a bit horrible, Kaito took one look at him and jumped to his feet. "Shinichi, your face –"

"I know, I know," Shinichi groaned, shutting his eyes tiredly. "I don't know why it happened. I've been fine with masks before."

"You probably didn't wear them long enough for it to get too bad." When Shinichi opened his eyes again, Kaito was much closer, standing directly in front of him with a worried expression. He dragged a fingertip across Shinichi's cheek, silk-soft, as a crease formed between his eyebrows. Shinichi suppressed a shudder. "I think you've got a mild latex allergy, from the looks of it."

"Yeah, I think you're right." Shinichi sighed instead of meeting Kaito's eyes. At this distance, they were probably lethal. "I feel like I should've figured this out before we got here." He berated himself – why did this have to happen now?

"Don't worry about it," Kaito assured him. His palms settled on either side of Shinichi's jaw, lifting his face until they made eye contact. "I came prepared. I brought some lotion that has aloe vera in it and a silicon version of the mask."

"What? Why?" Shinichi had to ask. He felt as if he'd been caged in by Kaito's strangely gentle eyes, stuck staring at him like a trapped animal.

"I like to be prepared for every possibility." Kaito gave a half-shrug. "Also, I noticed that time at the crime scene in Nagoya – the one with the heiress and the jewels, remember? – when you didn't have your usual gloves and had to wear the latex gloves. You kept scratching your hands afterwards. I thought it might've been an allergic reaction." A storm cloud visibly settled over his head as he clenched his back teeth. "I shouldn't have let you wear the latex mask in the first place, since I already had my suspicions. I'm so sorry –"

"No, that's – that's all right." Shinichi blinked at Kaito, bewildered and feeling a bit as if his stomach had filled with clouds. He himself hadn't even realized that he had a latex allergy, and he was supposed to be the all-knowing detective, not Kaito. What did it say that Kaito had realized this even before Shinichi? Did it – no, it couldn't possibly mean that Kaito felt the same way as he did, but it implied some level of affection, right?

"Still," Kaito was insisting when Shinichi finally managed to break out of his reverie. He hurried back to his duffel bag and when he returned, he was holding a tube of aloe vera lotion and a mask that was identical to Shinichi's old one, the latter of which he set on the bedside table.

Shinichi fully expected Kaito to give him the lotion and let him apply it on himself, so he was surprised and confused when Kaito pushed lightly on Shinichi's shoulders until Shinichi, puzzled, sat down on the bed. Kaito never relinquished the tube, even when Shinichi grabbed at it. Frowning, Shinichi demanded, "What are you doing?"

"This is my fault, so I'm taking care of it," Kaito soothed as he popped the lid off the lotion, and then his tongue was sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he dotted the lotion on Shinichi's cheeks before moving to his forehead and jawline. Shinichi sat stone-still, too shocked to move, as Kaito's fingertips moved over his skin, massaging so tenderly it was almost a caress. The ache in Shinichi's skin was slowly receding, the redness fading, but all Shinichi could concentrate on was the concentration in Kaito's expression, as if he was performing some dangerous and daunting task rather than putting lotion on Shinichi, and the way his index fingers lingered at the space behind Shinichi's ears and his palms molded to Shinichi's cheeks, almost cupping Shinichi's face.

The moment broke when Shinichi, needing desperately to move, to do something before he gave into the temptation to kiss Kaito senseless, twitched and accidently knocked the lotion off the bed. It hit the ground with a dull thump, and Kaito jerked his hands back as if someone had unloaded several volts of electricity into him, leaving Shinichi abruptly cold.

"Thank you," Shinichi said quietly in the ensuing silence. Kaito's head jerked up as he met Shinichi's gaze, then looked back away.

"You're welcome," he mumbled, reaching down to put the cap back on the lotion. He focused on the leg of the bed, just visible underneath the graceful folds of duvet. "What do you want to do about the bed? I could sleep on the couch, if you want."

"Wait, I could stay on the couch –"

"No," Kaito said, too quickly. He still wasn't looking at Shinichi. Apparently the carpet was just that interesting. "You shouldn't have to. I can do it."

Shinichi felt the phantom press of fingertips to his jugular and leaned back to disguise the tremor that crawled down his spine. It didn't seem right to force Kaito onto the couch after he'd – touched Shinichi as if he loved him. "That's all right." He exhaled, hoping Kaito didn't notice the hitch in his breath. "We can share the bed."

Kaito finally looked at him, beaming widely. Shinichi tried and failed to convince himself that he didn't smile back stupidly.

The next morning, Shinichi sincerely regretted his life decisions when he woke up with Kaito curled around him, Kaito's nose tucked in along the line of Shinichi's collarbone, the fingers of one hand fanned out protectively across the center of Shinichi's chest as his heartbeat thudded metronome-steady against the space between Shinichi's shoulder blades. It was undeniably the best thing he'd ever woken to while also being the worst, for the obvious reason that this was going to end all too soon and they'd go back to Tokyo and Shinichi would be doomed to a life of opening his eyes to cold sheets and a distinct lack of Kaito around him.

He should've taken the couch. He really should have. At least them he wouldn't know what he was missing, right?

Careful not to wake Kaito, Shinichi extricated himself from Kaito's grasp – Kaito made a snuffling, annoyed sound, eyes tightening at the corners as his mouth tilted downwards in displeasure, but he remained asleep – and Shinichi half-ran for the bathroom to splash cold water on his (mostly recovered) face and take a moment to compose himself. He could do this. If they found the painting in Arisa and Junko's room today, they could go home. Back to their status of best friends, back to not touching each other unless unnecessary, back to pining senselessly after Kaito because he was just that pathetic.

Shinichi sighed at the prospect, running a hand through the tangles that had accumulated along the sides of his head during the night. Maybe he should try dating someone else when they got back, he decided. He needed something to take Kaito off his mind. Of course, he'd probably just end up making himself and some poor third party miserable, but it was worth a try.

Ten minutes later, he was brushing his teeth and avoiding his own eyes in the mirror, scared of whatever emotion he might see there, when Kaito appeared in the bathroom doorway, yawning and sleep-soft as he squinted in the fluorescent lighting. Shinichi marveled at the state of his hair – it looked a bit as if Kaito had spent the night in a wind tunnel.

"You're up early," Kaito mumbled. His voice cracked like cellophane around the last two syllables, still rough with sleep. He yawned again and stretched, catlike, as his shirt crawled up his torso to reveal the juts of his hipbones and the smooth expanse of his stomach, and Shinichi resolutely stared at the ceiling as he rinsed off his toothbrush. Oh wow, there was crown molding even in the bathroom. Incredible. Interior decorating was really interesting.

"That's because the schedule says we've got a breakfast and guest speaker presentation at eight," he told the lacy shower curtain. In his periphery, Kaito had lowered his arms and was now humming something slow and smooth that Shinichi thought might be Elvis ("Can't Help Falling in Love," maybe? Shinichi wasn't all that well-versed in rock 'n' roll) as he reached for his own toothbrush. "We have to be there soon," Shinichi added as he tried to edge casually out of the bathroom.

"Where are you going?" Kaito demanded around a mouthful of toothpaste, putting an indignant hand on his hip as he lifted an eyebrow at Shinichi in the mirror. Shinichi sighed inwardly – so much for subtle.

"To go change?" he tried, thankfully managing not to blurt out, "Somewhere other than here so I don't have to witness you being sleepy and adorable."

Kaito pouted, somehow managing to do it and not look ridiculous even with a toothbrush trapped between his molars. "You're no fun, Shinichi."

"What fun could we have in a bathroom?" Shinichi sputtered as he nearly backed into the doorframe. He narrowly avoided smacking his arm against the sterling silver towel rack.

"I'm sure we could think of something," Kaito grinned, tilting his head suggestively towards the hot tub as he – oh God, tongued at the toothbrush in his mouth, and Shinichi would never admit it, but the choked sound he made was not intentional and as much as he liked to think the way he sprinted back to the bedroom was a tactical retreat, it was pretty much pure cowardice. It was better than standing there and flushing, though, Shinichi tried to console himself as he studiously sorted through his luggage for an outfit and did not think about Kaito – Kaito fellating objects.

They somehow made it down to the breakfast area without major incident, although Shinichi's shirt clashed with the jacket he'd put on, mostly because Kaito had found it completely acceptable to strip in the middle of their bedroom while Shinichi was still present and Shinichi – Shinichi was just done with the whole morning, okay. He could've sworn that Kaito was being even more flirtatious than usual (which was saying something, considering his usual behavior), but since there wasn't a reason Kaito would be acting up, Shinichi dismissed it as wishful thinking.

The breakfast was being held in what was likely a ballroom on other days. The floors were varnished cherry-veined marble, the ceilings were sky-high and vaulted, the tableclothed round tables were arranged in a precise pattern like lines of white-clad soldiers, and Shinichi could barely make out the people swarming the makeshift stage, presumably in preparation for whoever the guest speaker was.

"There are Arisa and Junko," Kaito murmured in Shinichi's ear, successfully distracting him from the rest of the grandeur (such as the truly ridiculous crystal chandeliers and decanters – yes, actual, legitimate decanters – of orange juice on the tables). His cheek pressed to Shinichi's for a moment, and Shinichi knew it was impossible – he was wearing a silicon mask, after all – but he imagined that he felt the warmth of Kaito's skin against his, the butterfly kiss of his eyelashes.

Stuffing the notion into the place he had dedicated to every nonsensical thought he'd had about Kaito (that particular corner of his mind was beginning to get a bit cluttered), Shinichi scanned the tables until he found Arisa and Junko bent together, each a sunflower to the other's sun, in one corner. Junko looked better than she had last night, resplendent in a burgundy sweater as she watched the activity on the stage, and Arisa stirred sugar into her cup as she studied Junko's face with unadulterated adoration. Shinichi wasn't biased, really, but he still couldn't see them as the evil art thieves they'd been touted as.

Then again, he thought as he glanced over at Kaito's profile, he couldn't see Kaito as the wanted criminal he was, so it was possible Shinichi's judgment was compromised.

Kaito happened to catch Shinichi's gaze as they started towards Junko and Arisa's table. "Something on my face, or are you just admiring the view, Shin?" he grinned, insufferable as always, and Shinichi shook his head at him, at a loss. Thankfully, he didn't have to say more, because they reached Junko and Arisa's table.

"Morning, you two," Kaito beamed as he sat down beside Arisa (and yanked on Shinichi until Shinichi fell into the seat next to his, battling a scowl). She smiled up at him, subtly prodding Junko until she looked over at Kaito.

"Sorry about last night," Arisa apologized, her expression sincere as she clasped her hands together in front of her. "I – we might have come off as rude, or –"

"No, no, it's understandable," Shinichi interrupted, smiling across the table at Junko. He tried to seem unintimidating. "We should be the ones apologizing – Kai-san here has no tact."

"Hey," Kaito said, mock-affronted as he tugged Shinichi's chair closer to him just enough to settle Shinichi against his arm. "Is that any way to talk about the best boyfriend ever?"

"Yes," Shinichi told him, wrinkling his nose. He cast a fleeting look over at Junko – she was watching them with the tiniest of smiles on her face. Good. Maybe if she opened up a little, Shinichi could figure out more about why the two of them had gone into art thievery, because he was slightly more curious about that than about whether they actually had scheduled a transaction. Outwardly, he shook his head at Kaito with gentle chastisement. "You're a lot of things, Kai-san, but tactful isn't one of them."

When Kaito's face actually fell, expression shuttering closed as if Shinichi was actually serious and not trying to play the cutesy, teasing boyfriend, Shinichi groaned internally. Just what he needed, Kaito getting legitimately sore over this. He hazarded another glance over at Junko – she was starting to withdraw, sensing a quarrel. Fantastic.

In an attempt to salvage the situation, he leaned towards Kaito until Kaito's eyes were all he could see, wide and luminous, and Kaito's mouth was half a whisper away from his. "Don't worry, I still love you," he murmured, pitching his voice low and comforting, and watched, a bit confused, as Kaito's pupils dilated, black swallowing his irises, and the line of Kaito's throat shifted as he swallowed minutely. That – was an odd reaction.

Arisa cleared her throat politely, and they jumped apart. Averting his gaze, Shinichi wiped at his face with his hands, not needing to fake any of the embarrassment he was radiating. He was definitely getting carried away. He'd gotten too comfortable with the whole fake boyfriend thing, he'd let his guard down, and now he was overstepping boundaries and ruining his friendship with Kaito.

"Sorry," he got out when he'd calmed the churning hurricane in his stomach down to a more manageable tropical storm, but when he met Arisa's eyes, she was grinning, not uncomfortable in the least.

"Oh, don't worry about that. The only reason I stopped you is because the speaker's just reached the stage." She motioned at the stage, where a balding man had indeed taken the podium and was shuffling around .

Trying to find something to do with his hands, Shinichi reached for an ornately cut glass cup to pour himself some orange juice from the pitcher. He nearly overturned the glass when one of Kaito's hands found its way to his, slender fingers folding in beside Shinichi's in a motion so casual and natural that Shinichi was left staring blankly at their entwined hands, bewildered for a second, before a strange mixture of hope and bemused indignation registered and his gaze snapped to Kaito. Kaito wasn't even facing him, his head turned towards the stage, but Shinichi could see the curled-up edge of his mouth even in profile. The bastard was practically glowing. He apparently enjoyed Shinichi torturing himself for the sake of their cover, the sadist.

"Smug doesn't look good on you, Kai-san," Shinichi muttered at him, but Kaito's smile only grew.

The guest speaker, as it turned out, was some kind of award-winning poet whose specialty appeared to be "soul moving, intellectual" pieces about everyday objects (for example, he opened with an thirty-four-stanza ballad about a broken coffeemaker). Shinichi had the distinct feeling that there was some deeper, much more significant meaning behind the everyday objects – maybe the coffeemaker was a metaphor for a dysfunctional relationship or something? – but the poem really just sounded like someone bitching about not getting their caffeine fix and being forced to drink tea (the horror), so. Needless to say, he was glad when the arrival of their breakfast (pancakes with an assortment of toppings) interrupted a particularly poignant sonnet about a metal spatula.

It was a little awkward trying to eat while wearing a mask, but Shinichi managed. He thought he'd done well until Kaito, who was eating one-handed – how Shinichi had forgotten that they were holding hands, he'd never know – made a tsking sound, set down his fork, and reached over to thumb a smear of strawberry jam off his cheek. Shinichi felt himself flush beneath the silicon as Kaito grinned impishly at him.

"You got yourself all messy, Shin," he told Shinichi, tone not reprimanding in the slightest as he licked the jam off the pad of his finger. Shinichi gulped involuntarily. He – was going to stop thinking about Kaito licking things. Right.

Across the table, Arisa chuckled. When Shinichi turned to look at her, she was beaming as she abandoned her breakfast to scoop Junko towards her. Junko went willingly, smiling up at Arisa with clear adoration. "The two of you are honestly the cutest couple," she remarked, laying her cheek against the crown of Junko's head. Her tone was deliberate when she spoke again. "You're a perfect example of two people who belong together, regardless of what anyone else thinks."

While the sentiment was more than enough to make Shinichi want to groan and drown himself in the porcelain teapot that a black-clad waiter had just delivered to their table (it was possible to drown in only a few centimeters of water, right?), Arisa's phrasing was more than enough to ring some alarms in Shinichi's head. There was something more than what she was saying. The quick glance he exchanged with Kaito told him that Kaito had noticed as well. Maybe it had something to do with what had happened at the bar?

Meanwhile, Junko just looked pained as she tugged away from Arisa and stared down at her plate, expression subdued. "Right," she said, almost imperceptible as she picked up her fork yet again and stabbed at a square of pancake.

With a sigh, Arisa returned to her own breakfast. A frosty silence descended, one that brooked no conversation. Even Kaito was silent.

Shinichi winced and rubbed at the back of his neck with his spare hand. Okay, then.

The basic plan Shinichi and Kaito had developed was this: When both Arisa and Junko were out of the room, they would search their room for the stolen painting. If they found the painting, they would call the inspector. If they didn't, they would devise another method of trying to ascertain whether the girls even had the painting.

There was one problem with this plan: After the event on the first night and the breakfast with the guest speaker, Junko and Arisa rarely left their room of their own volition. Which meant Kaito and Shinichi had to find ways of getting them out of the hotel.

Kaito tried first. He'd asked them if they wanted to go sailing with him.

("Sailing, Kaito? It's December. Also, we're nowhere near the ocean."

"I sort of panicked, okay? I'm not used to consorting with criminals like you are."

"Kaito, you are a criminal."

"Oh. Well, you know what? I'd like to see you come up with a better idea."

"I hope you realize that's not actually hard to do.")

Unsurprisingly, Arisa declined Kaito's invitation, citing a headache and inexplicable fatigue as a reason. She rejected all his subsequent attempts, too (Shinichi couldn't blame her; they got more and more implausible as time went on. Who would agree to visiting a crocodile petting zoo, anyway?).

Shinichi had somewhat more success. He managed to get Arisa out of the room for a run to the nearest coffee shop once, but unfortunately, Junko stayed behind, which meant Kaito couldn't exactly break into their room and scour it for a priceless painting. And since Shinichi and Kaito couldn't try to drag the two of them out of the room more than once a day for fear of making Arisa and Junko suspicious, it was slow going.

Their only consolation was that no transaction had taken place (Shinichi had quietly set up some tiny surveillance cameras – courtesy of Professor Agasa – outside their room to monitor who had gone in and out.) Arisa met all hotel staff at the door, and no one had left with anything large enough to conceal a painting, so Shinichi figured the painting was still in the room, if Arisa and Junko had ever even had it.

The unintended side effect of their failure was that they ended participating in an actual couples' retreat.

At first, it only made sense. Kaito pointed out that if they didn't take advantage of the program, they'd just be wasting the police force's funding, seeing as the retreat wasn't exactly the cheapest thing and it was technically being paid by the third division. That was how Shinichi convinced himself that going to a trust building seminar (horrible and cliché) and a rom-com movie night (the movies were also horrible and cliché, but the cuddling on loveseats underneath hand-knitted blankets was… passable) was entirely logical. Rational, even. They needed to maintain their cover in case any of their actions got back to Arisa and Junko, right? What better way to do it than attending the event?

He started going out of his head a bit, though, when one night, Kaito fitted himself alongside Shinichi's side like a tactile koala and Shinichi automatically began stroking Kaito's feather-soft hair, completely without conscious thought, before he realized what he was doing. He spent the next thirty minutes counting how many times Kaito had touched him earlier that day (the number ended up over a hundred) and staring wide-eyed up at the ceiling, willing himself not to hyperventilate.

This was going to explode in his face. There was no way this situation could end well. Shinichi shouldn't have allowed himself to get comfortable acting like – acting like this. How was he going to go back to Beika and spend his life not pressed against Kaito in bed, inhaling Kaito's shampoo and feeling Kaito's hands on him during trust falls off raised platforms and terribly written onscreen love confessions? How was he going to go back to Beika and not think about the way Kaito looked first thing in the morning and how he'd figured out Shinichi's latex allergy before Shinichi even had? How was he going to go back to acting as if they were best friends who weren't desperately in love?

That was (partially) what led Shinichi to announce the next morning, "We're breaking up."

He wasn't expecting Kaito's reaction, which was to spit toothpaste all over the bathroom mirror (Shinichi winced; housekeeping was going to have some difficulty getting toothpaste out of the gilding) as all color drained from his face. "What?"

Eyeing the grip Kaito had on the bathroom counter - Kaito's knuckles were straining white, and the marble creaked feebly in his grip, pleading for mercy – Shinichi arched an eyebrow at him. "You heard me. We're breaking up."

Oddly enough, Kaito got the strangest expression on his face. It looked almost genuinely upset, which was not an emotion Shinichi associated with Kaito. "What do you mean, 'we're breaking up'?" he asked, tone – brittle, almost. Maybe wounded, possibly plaintive. Shinichi was convinced he was hearing things, because Kuroba Kaito never did plaintive. He always hid everything behind some semblance of a smile.

"First of all," Shinichi began, leaning against the doorframe, "let me remind you that we're not actually dating –" (Kaito's face actually crumbled, going pained and drawn, and Shinichi decided he was an even better actor than Shinichi had credited him as, because he looked truly heartbroken; clearly he was good at role immersion) – "and second of all, it's just so we can get an in with Arisa and Junko."

"Oh." The tension drained out of Kaito, and he stopped trying to strangulate the countertop as his eyebrows unfurled and his mouth righted itself. "Oh, right." He wiped at the back of his mouth, meeting Shinichi's gaze in the white-flecked mirror. "Do explain, my darling Shinichi." He grinned, whiplash sudden and appallingly attractive. "Though I'm sure your reasoning is sound. As always."

Rolling his eyes, Shinichi shrugged. At least he'd gotten a bit desensitized to Kaito's flirting over the past couple of days. He still had the feeling that it was getting less and less subtle, though, but he was probably just imagining it at this point. "The two of them clearly don't care about the actual retreat activities, right? But from our interactions, I can tell they're both at least a little invested in our – relationship." He thought back to Arisa's "two people who are perfect for each other" comment and frowned. There was definitely a deeper meaning to it, but he still hadn't quite grasped it. "So if we break up and one of us goes to them for comfort, asking to go talk about it somewhere else, both of them would probably agree to go. For moral support and all." He shrugged. "I don't know. It's our best shot at this point."

"That's my Shinichi," Kaito said, actual fondness in his voice as he beamed at Shinichi. Shinichi felt unwilling, tentative affection bloom in his stomach until Kaito added, "Manipulative as always," and Shinichi scowled, offended.

"Is that how you think of me?" he demanded, a little childishly, as he extended a hand to grab at the mask lying on the bathroom counter and maybe make a dramatic exit. His hand never made it, though, because Kaito trapped it in one of his and lifted it to dab the faintest of kisses across Shinichi's knuckles, eyes meeting Shinichi's with painful sincerity.

"Yes, but I know there's much more to you than that," he murmured, so low that Shinichi barely heard him, before he swept in to kiss a toothpastey kiss to Shinichi's cheekbone and sauntered out of the bathroom. It registered somewhere in Shinichi's mostly broken brain that Kaito was humming Elvis again. Typical.

They decided (after a brief argument) that Kaito was going to be the one who went to talk to Junko and Arisa.

("They like you better, Shinichi!"

"But seeing you depressed and sad would be weirder and more disturbing, since you're always so… happy."

"You were going to use a different word, weren't you. You were definitely going to say 'annoying' or something."

"Uh… of course not."

"You wound me, Shinichi.")

That was how Shinichi found himself waiting in their room, watching the camera feed on his phone. Onscreen, Kaito rounded the corner, winked lasciviously at the camera (Shinichi was torn between finding it excruciatingly attractive and excruciatingly horrible, so he settled for flinching violently), and knocked on Arisa and Junko's door. The moment the door opened, Kaito put on the most overblown grimace of despair that Shinichi had ever seen. It was the type of expression Shinichi associated with people whose pets and/or young children had just died.

Arisa was understandably alarmed. Frowning with concern, she gestured for Kaito come in, but Kaito made a flappy hand motion that seemed to mean he didn't want to go in as actual tears slid down his cheeks and he looked away, swallowing convulsively. Shinichi abruptly realized he was staring at the screen with his mouth open, clutching his phone so tightly the casing grunted in annoyance as something sharp scratched at the inside of his chest. It was just acting, he told himself as he loosened his grip on his phone. Kaito was good at acting, remember. This whole trip was proof enough of that.

He returned his attention to the feed just in time to see Junko come to the door. She, Arisa, and Kaito talked for a moment, Arisa and Junko worried, Kaito wiping at his face with the sleeves of his sweater. He was pressing too hard as he did it, subtly making his eyes red and bloodshot as if he'd been crying for hours, Shinichi noted as he fought down the immediate surge of protectiveness that had welled up within him.

Junko said something to Arisa, who nodded slowly and placed a hand on Kaito's shoulder. She began to steer Kaito away from their room, down the hallway and towards the elevator. The door to their room swung shut, but not before Kaito stumbled over nothing and pressed a strip of tape over the strike plate, preventing the door from locking. He shot the camera a tiny, surreptitious grin before Arisa began fussing over him. Shinichi had to smile.

Once the three of them had disappeared down the hall, Shinichi tucked his phone into his pocket and started for the stairs – it wouldn't do if he bumped into them while calling the elevator. By the time he reached the sixteenth floor, he was out of breath, wrinkling his nose as he adjusted the mask against his dampening skin. Maybe he was getting a little out of shape. He could remember when he chased Kaito up flights of stairs without breaking a sweat.

Arisa and Junko's room was fairly similar to Shinichi and Kaito's, albeit less well-kept. From what Shinichi had seen, they hadn't allowed housekeeping to clean their room, so it wasn't surprising. He made his way through the entry/living room, looking for anything that appeared to be out of place, but he didn't see anything unusual. It made sense – if Shinichi had been hiding a priceless painting, he wouldn't have put it anywhere it could be seen from the door.

That left the bedroom and the bathroom, and Shinichi doubted a painting should be anywhere near steam or water, which ruled out the bathroom. He entered the bedroom cautiously. The bed was a mess of unmade sheets and pillows, there were two suitcases lined up by the nightstand, and the curtains were drawn to block the morning sunlight, but everything else appeared serene. With a sigh, Shinichi got to work.

He checked the luggage first. They were empty, save for some dirty clothes (and Shinichi felt distinctly perverted looking at them; he quickly shut the suitcases). The next thing he checked was behind the TV set – nothing except for some stringy bits of dusty cobwebs that made him wrinkle his nose. The windows and the armoire yielded no results, either.

Slightly frustrated, Shinichi kneeled and swept an arm beneath the bed. He doubted he'd find anything, because keeping anything under the bed was too cliché for – That train of thought was derailed when his hand bumped into something solid, wrapped in what felt like paper of some kind.

Startled, Shinichi latched onto the object and slid it carefully out from beneath the bed. It was rectangular and seemed a little small for a painting, but Shinichi gave a mental shrug and began to work at where the brown packaging paper was taped together, careful not to rip it as he removed it from the object –

– which wasn't a painting. Well, no, technically it was a painting, but more accurately it was a portrait, the portrait of a young woman at three-quarter view. Shinichi blinked, bewildered, as he stared down at it. The girl was dark-haired, with pale skin set off by a pair of bright eyes, and she was smiling at something just out of view, one side of her mouth turned up at a nearly negligible angle. It took Shinichi a moment to realize that it was Junko in the portrait. Junko.

His mind whirled as he stared down at Junko's face, trying to slot the pieces of the puzzle together and failing spectacularly. If the painting was of Junko, then was it really stolen? Weren't portraits usually painted for the subjects? Who had painted this? And how was Junko related to them? What about Arisa; how was she involved in the situation?

He still hadn't come to a solution when he registered the sound of footsteps pounding down the hallway and Kaito's panicking voice calling, "Wait, hey –" Horror shot through Shinichi and he scrambled to tuck the painting away and maybe jump out the window, but he had barely moved when the door to the room flew open and Junko came running in, expression wild as her gaze landed on Shinichi, who froze under her scrutiny.

There was an awkward silence.

"This is stolen," Shinichi blurted out. It was the first thing he could think of. Also not the best thing he could've said, in hindsight.

"Well, shit," Kaito said from the doorway. His eyes were wide.

Arisa, who had arrived seconds ago, sighed heavily. Her face was pale as she walked stiffly into the bedroom, her gait so careful it was as if she was measuring her every footfall. "Ah – can we discuss this civilly?" she tried. Shinichi noticed her hands were shaking as she reached out to pull an unmoving Junko towards her.

"Come in, Kaito," Shinichi called, peering around the two girls to make eye contact with Kaito. Kaito glanced around the hall before he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. He strode quickly towards Shinichi, arms lifting to knot around Shinichi in a tight, apologetic hug. "I'm sorry," he whispered into Shinichi's shoulder. "Junko wanted to come back to the room, I guess, and I couldn't stop them…" He trailed off when he laid eyes on the painting on the floor. "Isn't that –"

Shinichi quieted him with a hand on his wrist, smiling reassuringly at Kaito when Kaito lifted his face. Later he'd wonder about why Kaito had immediately gone to hold him without a second thought and why Shinichi himself hadn't been surprised at it, but for now, there were more pressing concerns.

He turned towards where Junko had buried her face in Arisa's neck. "Could we get an explanation?" he asked, trying to sound as gentle as possible. "This is clearly a painting of Junko-san, but we know for a fact that it was stolen."

Arisa opens her mouth, but it's Junko who speaks first. Her voice is so soft it's nearly impossible to hear her. "You're right. It is a portrait of me, and it is stolen."

Kaito and Shinichi exchanged a confused look.

"Let me explain," Arisa tried, but Junko drew away from her just enough to shake her head.

"This is my entire fault," she murmured, ignoring Arisa's protests. "I should explain it to them."

"Junko –"

"Have you heard of the painter Kawamoto Seiya?" Junko asked, disentangling herself from Arisa. At Kaito's shake of the head, she sighed. "It's understandable. His popularity peaked a while ago, when I was a child. He's my father." She looked away as Shinichi stiffened and Kaito's eyebrows shot skyward. "That portrait was painted near the end of his fame. It's one of the last of his works that are considered priceless. It's titled 'Princess.'" When she fell silent, Arisa stepped forward to curl gently around her. She murmured something inaudibly, and Junko made a soft sound as she leaned into Arisa's touch.

Meanwhile, Shinichi was still struggling to piece together the information. If the painter – and the victim of the robbery – was Junko's father, whom she seemed to care for, then why would she have…?

A flash of understanding abruptly went through him as he remembered Kaito saying, "People treat you differently when they find out," and Arisa's "two people who belong together, despite what other people think" comment. Oh. Oh.

Kaito, on the other hand, hadn't put it together yet. Shinichi felt him shift uneasily against his back. "Wait, but then why did you –"

"Kaito, not the time," Shinichi hissed at him, but Junko had already overheard. She gave a quarter turn, smiling faintly at them.

"Kuroo-san, do you know remember what you said when we first met?" she asked. "You remember, the comment that Katou-san called tactless because it scared me off." When Kaito nodded slowly, Junko nodded. "That's the reason. When I – when I told my parents about Arisa, they didn't – take it well. My father threw things. My mother cried. They told me I wasn't their daughter anymore. In the end they disowned me." The laugh she gave was strained, more of a choked sound than anything. Arisa looked physically pained as she dragged Junko even closer. "That's why my name isn't Takayama anymore."

"Oh," Kaito said in a small voice.

"So I thought," Junko went on, and her voice was shaky, "that I – maybe I could get revenge. I knew where my father kept that portrait. He never sold it because he always said it was his favorite memory of me. I thought – I thought maybe if I took it, it would be like – like taking the last reminder they had of me. Taking the person they thought I was." She shivered, and Arisa pressed her face against hers. "It sounds stupid when I say it like that, but at the time I really did think it was the only way I could get revenge. Ever since she found out what I did, Arisa's been trying to convince me that I didn't do something completely idiotic, but…" She paused, caught her breath, and then continued. "We were supposed to sell it this weekend – we figured someone with enough money to come to this kind of retreat might be willing to buy it – but I… I couldn't do it."

"Because you don't want revenge," Shinichi heard himself saying before he could stop himself. He felt uncomfortable underneath the three gazes that immediately swung towards him, but he swallowed down his nerves as he held eye contact with Junko. "It's not revenge that you want. You still care about your family. You've been conflicted about this whole thing from the beginning." He paused, an idea beginning to form inside his head. "Are you willing to try to fix things with them?"

Junko didn't speak for a moment, but she did nod, turning her face towards the carpeting.

"If you are, I think we can come to an agreement," Shinichi decided, mind made up. "And maybe you won't end up in prison." Junko looked up at that.

"What do you mean, Shinichi?" Kaito asked in a low tone, sounding wary, and Shinichi grinned at him.

"Don't worry. It's pretty much the same deal I give you, Kid," he whispered, just to see the confusion on Kaito's face.

Arisa and Junko left the next day. Shinichi was in the lobby when they did, sitting on a leather couch beside Kaito when the two of them wheeled their luggage – and a rectangular package – towards the door on a trolley. Junko noticed them first; she tugged on Arisa's sleeve until Arisa saw them as well, and then they started across the lobby towards where Shinichi and Kaito were seated.

"Thank you so much," Arisa said once they were within hearing distance. She came to a stop in front of Shinichi, smiling sunshine. "I don't know what we would've done. Someone else would've caught us at some point, and I doubt they would've been as understanding as you were."

"Don't worry about it," Shinichi assured her. He made an effort to make eye contact with Junko, who was smiling shyly in his direction. "It's not the first time I made an exception." Kaito huffed indignantly at his side, and Shinichi kicked him solidly in the shin, ignoring the wounded noise he made.

Throughout the exchange, Arisa had continued to smile. She was beaming at them by the time they finished. "You know, Katou-san, I never really bought that shy act you were putting on. I think I like you better like this."

"It's Kudou, actually," Kaito piped up. At Junko and Arisa's twin expressions of mystification, he grinned mischievously. "Have you heard of Kudou Shinichi, by any chance?"

"He's that detective who disappeared for a few years, isn't he?" Junko answered. Her eyes grew wide as they darted from Kaito to Shinichi. "Wait, you can't possibly be saying –"

"He looks nothing like Kudou Shinichi," Arisa interrupted, blinking as she studied Shinichi's face intently. "There's no way –"

She fell silent when Shinichi glanced around the lobby to check that nobody was watching before he casually tugged off the mask and wig in one smooth motion, lifting his eyebrows as he tucked them into his jacket. For a moment both Arisa and Junko stood there, speechless and gaping, before Arisa recovered and smirked over at Kaito, eyes dancing as she remarked, deliberately casual, "If I recall correctly, Kudou Shinichi does spend his time chasing after Kaitou Kid, who's an expert at disguises. And he always lets him go…"

Kaito went silent, giving Shinichi a panicked, "what am I supposed to say?" look, and Shinichi just laughed. "Like I said, it's not the first time I've made an exception to the law," he grinned as he reached out to slide his arm around the slant of Kaito's back. It was warm to the touch, even through Kaito's sweater.

Junko nodded. "Thank you again, Kudou-san," she told him earnestly, and Shinichi shook his head.

"Don't mention it," he assured her honestly, and Junko smiled back at him, a real, genuine smile that stretched all the way across her face. It was the first time he'd ever seen her smile that wide and uninhibited. She and Arisa bowed, reclaimed their baggage, and started for the spotless glass front doors, which swished open upon their arrival.

"Have a safe trip home!" Kaito called after them, and Arisa turned to wave. Then they walked through the doors and were gone, lost to the city.

Shinichi and Kaito sat in silence for a few minutes, Shinichi content to watch the comings and goings of various well-dressed people, before Kaito, who had been fidgeting, broke it.

"You know, I really wasn't expecting you to do that," he commented carefully, as if trying to gauge Shinichi's reaction.

"What, let them go without calling the inspector?" Shinichi turned so he was facing Kaito fully. "I would think that you, of all people, would expect that from me." When Kaito's expression didn't change, he sighed. "I'm not completely heartless, Kaito. As long as she returns the painting, I don't think much harm was done. I'm pretty sure her parents regret what happened, too. Neither of us had heard about the painting being stolen, right? And even if Takayama Seiya isn't as popular now as he was before, 'Princess' is still valued at millions. The news of its robbery should've been somewhere in the press. But it wasn't, which means her parents didn't tell anyone but the police about the theft. If they really wanted Junko to be arrested, they would've put the news out there so more people would be on the lookout for her." He lifted his eyebrows at Kaito. "And anyway, this is the same deal I give you. As long you return the target gems, I don't go after you, do I?"

"Yeah, but I thought I was special to you. Your one and only exception and all that," Kaito whined, leaning over to drop his head into Shinichi's lap. Shinichi made a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat, but he let his fingers card through Kaito's wild mess of hair. There wasn't any reason to do it – Arisa and Junko were gone now, and there was really no point in trying to maintain the whole fake relationship, but Shinichi was hoping Kaito might not notice until they actually left the hotel.

After a long moment, Kaito huffed and pulled free from Shinichi's ministrations, refusing to meet Shinichi's gaze. "So we're just going to keep pretending?" he asked, voice startlingly iceblock-cold.

Shinichi froze. Had Kaito somehow heard his thoughts? "What do you mean?"

Kaito exhaled hard. "Shinichi, you know exactly what I mean." At Shinichi's carefully controlled blink, he sighed, shoveling a fistful of hair out of his face. "You know. I'm here flirting with you, giving it everything I've got, and you're just – apathetic." He dropped his head against the back of the couch. "You're the worst kind of tease, Kudou Shinichi."

Bewildered, Shinichi tried to process what Kaito meant, but his mind stuttered and stalled. He felt as if he were trying to translate hieroglyphics, trying to assemble a jigsaw puzzle in the dark, trying to paint a mural blindfolded. "I don't know what you're saying."

The sound Kaito made was a mixture between a growl and a groan. "I thought I was being pretty obvious. I've been flirting with you this whole time, but you just keep giving me mixed signals."

"Wait, what are you talking about?"

"Just then," Kaito snapped, and he seemed truly angry now, or maybe just defensively uncertain. It was hard to tell when he wouldn't look directly at Shinichi. "I was flirting with you, and you didn't respond at all, but you still did the –" He gestured at his head with frustration. "You know, with my hair. And there were times when you'd kiss me or you'd get really close to me, but then later you'd be all – cold." He set his jaw, the lines devastatingly taut. "I just want to know what we're doing here. If you're not interested, could you just come out and say it?"

"Hold on, what?"

"Is that all you're going to –"

"Kaito, we've been pretending to be boyfriends for the past few days. How was I supposed to know that you were being serious when you were flirting with me? Wasn't it part of the act?" Shinichi's head was spinning. His world had narrowed down to Kaito and the unhappy twist to Kaito's mouth and his own pounding heart.

"I know, and it was," Kaito insisted waspishly. "In public. But what about all the times when no one else was around? That was all me." He deflated, shoulders drooping wearily. "I just – I thought maybe if you were already in the mindset of considering me to be your boyfriend, thinking about us in a romantic way… I don't know, I thought it might be a good chance for me to figure out how you felt about me or if you were interested. Or at least drop some hints." He put his face in his hands. "I even tried to drag out the investigation so I'd have more time to try. That's why I sort of sabotaged the whole 'get Arisa and Junko out of their room' plan with the – with the sailing and stuff. I'm sorry about that."

"You…" Shinichi swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "So all that flirting – that wasn't just… immersion? All that… all those things you said?" Amazingly, he thought vaguely, in the single part of his mind that wasn't short-circuiting, this might end well.

"I'm a better actor that that, Shinichi. I don't need twenty-four-seven immersion just to pretend to be someone's boyfriend." Kaito was now rubbing at his eyes, exhaustion blanketing every square centimeter of his body. "This is really cliché, but I hope we can still be friends. Or maybe we can't, because I don't think I'll be able to see you without thinking about how good you look first thing in the morning or putting my hands on you in public –"

Shinichi cut him off with a kiss. It wasn't a particularly skillful kiss by any stretch of the imagination; the angle was a bit off and Shinichi came dangerously close to biting Kaito when they first collided. But Kaito's lips were soft and pliant beneath Shinichi's, and the slick sound of surprise Kaito made into Shinichi's mouth was something that Shinichi would carry to the grave and beyond, if possible. He tried to convey to Kaito that he was exactly the same, if not worst – he couldn't imagine waking up without Kaito, either, and he couldn't imagine going without this anymore, and – and maybe he wouldn't have to, actually, Shinichi realized when Kaito's tongue curved over his bottom lip. Maybe not.

Kaito's arms had somehow found their way around Shinichi, holding him close, and Shinichi had climbed over to straddle him at some point. Shinichi became aware of these facts when he finally pulled back, panting a bit as he rested his forehead against Kaito's. He was also aware that they had garnered a large amount of attention, particularly from the girl who'd checked them in the first day they'd arrived.

"Maybe we should take this up to our room," Kaito suggested, brushing a piece of hair off of Shinichi's forehead, and Shinichi grinned.

"We have a hot tub that we could put to good use," he remarked, and watched as Kaito's pupils swallowed his irises.

– omake –

"So what you're telling me," Megure began, eyebrows furrowed across his desk at Shinichi, "is that the two suspects did not have the painting."

"No," Shinichi agreed cheerfully. "And the painting reappeared at the victim's house, didn't it? I heard on the news."

"Yes, that's correct," Megure confirmed slowly. He was eyeing Shinichi with suspicion, a look that meant "I know you're not telling me the whole story, but I don't know how to prove that." "You went with Kuroba-kun, didn't you?"

"I did," Shinichi nodded.

"I see. So after you discovered that the two suspects did not have the painting in question, you did… what?"

"We stayed at the hotel for the whole retreat," Shinichi told him. "Since, you know, Division Three had already paid for it."

"I heard their budget's slashed to hell," Megure muttered under his breath before he cast a hesitant look at Shinichi. "Do you have anything to tell me, then? About you and Kuroba-kun."

"We made good use of the hot tub," Shinichi informed him. Megure's eyebrows knit until he added, "Together."

"Ah," Megure said eloquently as Shinichi grinned and left his office, whistling something that could be construed as an attempt at Elvis but more closely resembled the sounds a dying cat might make. Shinichi was still alarmingly tone deaf, it seemed.

Well, it was Megure's lucky day, Megure thought as he got up to go tell Takagi and Satou the news. He'd won the department-wide betting pool about when Kudou and Kuroba would open their eyes and finally get together, which meant he was going to be able to take Midori somewhere nice for her birthday. He chuckled as he closed his office door behind him. That would teach everyone to bet against him.

I debated about whether to keep that last scene, but I decided to keep it for... closure? I don't know.

Well, hope this fic was worth the wait (it probably wasn't, to be honest). If you enjoyed it to some extent, pleas consider dropping me a review, and I'll see you all soon! - Luna