Shinichi's out of it. He knows he's out of it. As in, legally-the-bartender-should-have-cut-him-off-several-drinks-ago out of it.

Somehow, he can't find it in himself to care.

Ran's married. She's married, and Shinichi did his duty and stood by her side, and he should be allowed to mourn, okay?

He had to sit there and watch it and not say anything. And it's all his fault because he hadn't said anything.

He let her go.

He hates Conan. Conan took everything away from him, even her. And what Conan didn't take, Hondou Eisuke did.

That should have been him today watching her walk up the aisle in a lavish western wedding. Oh, but she looked like a dream, like a queen, like royalty, like the sun, radiant and resplendent in her white gown.

He's so stupid.

Shinichi can't blame them. The only one he has to blame is himself.

He couldn't bear to watch them. He left the reception early, too early, skipped out of the hotel, wandered aimlessly around Vegas for a while, until rain began drizzling down and forced him to duck inside the nearest casino.

It's a desert. Rain is a falsehood, a lie. Unreal. What are the chances? But it's just a firm measure of his luck. He can't remember the name of the casino, but he found the bar quickly enough. It looks like a palace on the inside, all glamour and glitz and artifice. An illusion. It's one of the big famous places just off the strip, and even though he doesn't watch films too often, he's probably seen this one in them half a dozen times.

And he knows he's sloshed. Pissed. Drunk out of his mind, and it's still not enough. For once in his life, he doesn't want to think. He doesn't want to deduce. That's what got him in trouble on the first place. Thinking. Thinking that Ran would wait. Thinking she wouldn't move on if he lied and told her he'd never lo—he didn't ever have feelings for her.

So, so stupid.

And in the end, it didn't keep her safe. They kidnapped her anyway. But by then she was already engaged. It had never been about what she felt for him, just about what he felt for her.

Oh, Shinichi feels sick. Sick and stupid and bitter and miserable and hurt.

And it's his own damn fault.

He waves wordlessly for another drink, and the bartender obliges. She's dark-haired, but the pity in her brown eyes churns his stomach, and it's too similar to her, and he turns away, not wanting to see. Ran has the same eyes.

Shinichi will be better tomorrow. Tomorrow, he'll paste on a smile and pretend everything is fine, look into Ran's eyes and lie to her face like he has for so many years. But tonight he will mourn and drink and drink and drink and drink until he doesn't feel a thing. He takes a big gulp, having long gotten used to the burn of the hard liquor.

It's still not enough. He tilts back his head, ready to knock back the rest of the glass, when it mysteriously disappears.

He blinks, looking at his empty hand against his mouth. That's not right.

There's a shadow over him. Shinichi tilts his head even farther back, looking up at it from a head nearly upside down. He swallows thickly, which pulls at his throat, blinks again. It's a white suit. Heh. He can see up his nose. That's kind of gross. He raises his head, turns to look at him properly. The bowtie is a soft red against the blue of the pleated evening shirt. White tailcoat, white waistcoat. The shadow swims. It's not a bad suit. It's not a good suit either. It's an annoying suit. He knows this suit.

"I think you've had enough," he hears a man say, thick and slow and from a distance, as if he's hearing it from underwater. There's a glass filled with amber liquid in his hand. Shinichi's glass. He says it in English. Shinichi is fluent, but it takes him a minute to parse it through the haze of alcohol.

Shinichi's vision is blurry, so he can't get a good look at his face, but he knows this man. Knows every inch of his profile. In fact, Shinichi thinks the alcohol helps since he only sees the face in pieces, like a Picasso. He knows the lower half of that face.

"Thief," Shinichi slurs.

"What?" the man says, a little taken aback.

"Give it back, Kid," Shinichi repeats, voice loud. "'Oo already got all the jewels and stuff, lemme have my drink." People are turning to look at them. Shinichi doesn't care, but Kid looks a little nervous, which is weird since he's always liked a spectacle.

"Excuse me?"

"Gimme," Shinichi whines, standing up, wobbling and nearly falling over but he catches himself on the bar. He pushes off and grabs blindly for his glass, tripping over the moving floor. He lands in Kid's arms, Kid just barely stopping the drink from spilling all over them both. "'Smine, not yours."

Kid still won't give it to him, looking at him all wary, so he pats down his pocket. Oh, he hopes he hasn't lost it. The floor moves again, so he leans his head against Kid's chest until the world stops, still patting himself down. It's not working, so he falls to his knees, brushing down the length of his body, still looking for it.

It's stupid to keep it on him, even after all this time, but Shinichi already knows he's stupid. He finds it in his coat with a triumphant "Ha!" He holds it out. The outside is soft and velvet and plush. It feels good in his hands.

Kid's eyes are wide.

Shinichi cracks open the dark box. It's a three carat diamond, gold band, with a triangle of sapphires surrounding the main stone that once reminded Shinichi of Ran's eyes. Kid probably has a jewel sensing mechanism, that's how he knew he had the ring.

He looks at Kid, and Kid has striking eyes. It's funny how he never noticed before how blue they are. It takes a couple of tries, but he slips the ring on Kid's ring finger. It fits like it was made for it.

Kid's face is pinking. He's saying something, trying to pull his hand away but Shinichi's grip is too tight.

"There. You have the last jewel. Now gimme my drink," Shinichi says, standing and listing to the side, reaching for the glass again.

Kid doesn't give it to him, raising it high above his head.

"It's not fair," Shinichi whines again. "What do you want from me?"

Kid licks his lips, opens his mouth to say something, but there's a slight sheen on his lips now, and Shinichi can't bring himself to look away. Kid's face is still a little pink. Shinichi's looking at his lips, but he probably should pay attention to what he's saying as well. Shinichi wants to touch.

"—just accuse people of being international thieves," he's saying.

But Shinichi's not. "But you are the Kaitou Kid," he says. "It's not an accusation if it's true. I'd know you anywhere. Besides, you stole my drink. That's hard proof," he says with a decisive nod.

"I'm trying to stop you from drinking yourself into an early grave," Kid mumbles.

"Not gonna die," Shinichi says proudly, putting his hands on his hips like a superhero and nearly falling over. "I know my limits."

"I don't think you do," Kid says, "and I'm not Kid. I am the great magician, Ku—" Shinichi cuts him off by putting a finger on his lips. They're nice and soft, so he traces them, surprisingly coordinated.

"Don't wanna know."

"But—" And Kid's turned red again.

"Shh!" Shinichi says, leaning close. Close enough to feel Kid's breath on his face. It smells like cinnamon. "It's not fair. Only at heists," he says. "If I find you out there, that's okay." He can feel warmth radiating from him, so he puts the side of his face against Kid's. He's warm and Shinichi's face has gone numb, and it feels good.

"What's got you so convinced I'm Kid?" Kid says, and it sounds helpless. Shinichi feels the words vibrate against his cheek.

Shinichi pulls away and looks up, and whoa his eyes are dark. Like a black abyss with a little corona of blue around them. "I'd know you anywhere," he says, and his voice comes out a little rougher than he intended. He licks his own lips, and Kid's eyes flicker down. Shinichi shakes his head, and the world spins.

What was he talking about? Oh. "You quit," Shinichi accuses. "You quit being Kid and left me all alone."

"I'm not Kid," Kid says, exasperated.

Shinichi tilts his head. That's true. "Maybe not now, but you were."

"I'm just a magician!"

"Kid's a magician," Shinichi says. He leans forward again, moves a little too fast, and the world swims instead of spins. He's dizzy. Such a weird sensation.

"So are a lot of other people," Kid says.

"Yeah but they're not you," Shinichi says, pointing out the obvious. He doesn't know why Kid can't see it. "I don't have an 'other-people' sense. I have a 'Kid-sense.' I know when it's you." It's not like a sense-sense. It's a combination of manner and the way he walks and his profile and his eyes and his smile that pings at his awareness, something he's unconsciously drawn to. It's not like he does it on purpose. He just knows.

"I've never even met you before," Kid says. "If I were Kid, and I'm not saying I am, wouldn't I remember you?"

Shinichi goggles. That's good as an admission. He throws his hands out in front of him and counts on his fingers, going through all the times they've met. "Like ten times," Shinichi says, holding up seven fingers. "A lot. There was the time with your bra, the time with the cage—" Shinichi hears giggling. There are people watching them and listening. He clamps his mouth shut. Even as drunk as he is, something doesn't feel right about it. He's forgetting something. Something big and important.

"Go on," Kid says, intrigued.

Well if Kid thinks it's okay… "You zapped me with a taser!" Shinichi whines. "It hurt."

"Kinky, Kuroba," the bartender says. "What did you do, moonlight at a roleplay BDSM club before you headlined here?"

"No," Kid says. "It's not like that at all," he says, hands up. Kid is looking at him weirdly. Shinichi doesn't know how to classify the look, but it has changed. Before it had looked almost indulgent. But now, Kid isn't smiling. His face is shuttered, his eyes narrowed. "Go on," he says, and there's real interest in it now. Shinichi feels like prey under those eyes.

That's right. Not many people know about the taser. It wasn't publicized.

The world is still swimming. "That time you put a gun to my head. That was kind of scary, but exciting."

"A gun?" Kid says faintly, like he can't believe it. That's fair. Shinichi couldn't believe it either at the time.

Shinichi scrunches up his nose. "I think it was your card gun. I knew you wouldn't do it. You don't steal lives, 'cause it's impossible to return them once they're gone."

Kid leans close, running his hand up and down Shinichi's suit, fingering his tie, touching his throat, behind his ear, checking for a wire or listening device. He doesn't find one because Shinichi isn't wearing one. "So say I am the Kaitou Kid. What are you going to do?" Kid says the words low, against his ear, but he speaks them in Japanese.

Shinichi shivers. "Nothing," he responds in the same language. Then he realises why Kid is worried. "I'm not here to arrest you. I didn't even know you were here. I'm just here to forget, but you stole my drink," he accuses. "I'm getting soberer by the second," he says, pouting. But it's okay. Kid helped him forget, really forget, for a little while. He looks longingly towards his glass, still in Kid's hand.

"What do you mean, 'arrest?'"

Shinichi fumbles for his police badge, holding it upside down. "It's outside my jurisdiction anyway. Way outside."

"Oh, of course," Kid mutters as he knocks back the rest of Shinichi's glass in one gulp. "You would grow up to be a police detective."

Shinichi stares. That's an indirect kiss. "Not fair!" Shinichi says again. "That was mine. You're mean!" He grasps Kid's sleeve, tugging, pulling Kid against him, causing him to stumble.

"Zara!" Kid says, forcing Shinichi to sit bodily on the stool and then sitting next to him. "Two more!" Shinichi slouches over, nearly falling off but for Kid's steadying arm coming around his shoulder.

The bartender laughs. "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em?" she says.

"Something like that," Kid admits. "You'll keep 'em coming? I can't be sober for this conversation."

"I think your fiancé has drunk enough for both of you," she says, but she slides one over to him and one over to Shinichi anyway.

"Fiancé?" Kid says stupidly.

"You're wearing his ring," Zara bartender lady points out. "I didn't exactly hear you say no."

Kid looks down at his hand, then looks back up at the ceiling like he wishes he was anywhere but here. "He's just a friend of a friend. I don't even know him all that well."

"Right," she says, drawing out the word. "I've never seen you act this way with anyone, and we've been friends for three years."

"I would be remiss in my friend duties if I let him drink alone."

"Uh-huh. That's why you're letting him hang all over you. "

"What?" Shinichi says, feeling like he's missed something important. "We're not friends." Shinichi doesn't really have friends, not anymore. They're all tainted with Conan, and he doesn't like it. Even Hattori.

Even Kid.

"No one should have to drink alone," Kid says. "Besides," he says, switching back to Japanese, "I think I do remember you." He knocks back another glass. "Only, you were like, this big," Kid says, holding his hand up to about half the height of the bar. "My, how you've grown!"

Shinichi squints. "You're not denying you're Kid anymore?" he says, suspicious.

"You're not denying you've grown?" Kid fires back. "What was it? A growth ray? Were you abducted by aliens?" Kid asks, eager.

Shinichi laughs. It's the gut-busting, belly-deep kind. That has to be the funniest thing he's ever heard. Kid's pouting because he thinks Shinichi is laughing at him, and well, he kind of is, but he's also kind of not. "A shrink ray is closer," he says, finally managing to speak.

"So the aliens got you with a shrink ray? But you're so much taller!" And he sounds oddly excited. "What happened? Did you shrink so much you disappeared into nothing and then grew by tearing the fabric of the universe?"

Shinichi lets out a slow, baffled blink. "No, I was big before." Kid looks confused, so he elaborates. "I was sixteen." He mimicks an explosion. "Then woosh! Six," he says. "Then Conan." He scowls. "I hate Conan." Shinichi says it with vehemence.

"So you hate yourself?" Kid asks.

Kid gets it.

Shinichi sniffs. "I'm stupid," he says quietly, tears welling up in his eyes as he remembers again.

Ran. He tries to blink the tears away, but that just makes them fall instead.

"Now, now, little detective, that's no way to talk!" Kid says, arms around him. Shinichi hears him mutter to himself, "Emotional drunk, got it." Kid takes a deep breath, pastes on a smile. "The detective I knew was smart indeed," Kid says, and it's tentative, but Shinichi thinks the confirmation is an offering of peace, a return for him acknowledging he and Conan are one and the same. "Too smart to be poisoning himself with alcohol."

Shinichi laughs bitterly, unable to stop the tears from flowing now that they've started. "Have you ever loved someone?"

Kid stills, hands tightening around Shinichi like a vice.

"I love her. I love her so, so, much. I had it all planned out. I was going to take down the people that did this to me," he waves wordlessly at himself, "then I was going to ask her to marry me, once I was myself again."

"Detective…"

"I couldn't tell her. I lived with her, watched her fall apart over me." He laughs again, ever so darkly. "Again and again and again and again. She couldn't know because it would make her a target. I lied and lied and lied and lied."

Shinichi leans forward and his head thunks as it hits the bar.

"Then one day it was too much. I couldn't stand to see her hurting anymore," he mumbles into the wood of the bar. "So I told her I didn't love her. That I never loved her, not like that."

"Oh, you poor thing," Kid breathes, and it sounds like he really means it.

"It hurt her worse for a little while, but then she got better."

"Yeah," Kid agrees.

"And they kidnapped her anyway, shot her, dangled her a hundred floors above the ground. We were lucky to get away with our lives," Shinichi says, swirling his drink around. It sloshes unevenly over the ice. He knocks it back, then takes Kid's for good measure and drinks that too. Haha, payback. "She's married now, you know." Shinichi says. "To some baby-faced bastard."

Kid snorts.

Shinichi frowns. "That's not fair. He's a good guy. It's not his fault. It's not hers, either. It's mine. I mean, what? I told her I never loved her. Who does that?" he says, bewildered. "Of course she wouldn't wait."

"You know who does that?" Kid says. "People that want to keep their loved ones safe, even from themselves," he says, and it sounds just as bitter as Shinichi's own self-loathing.

"She got married today," Shinichi says, miserable. "I was her man-of-honor. Sonoko was so angry. But Ran was adamant I stand with her."

"So that's why you're trying to pickle yourself," Kid says.

"Got it in one," Shinichi says. "I'll be better tomorrow," he says, rubbing his eyes with his palms. "But I thought, 'One night to mourn, and then I'll be okay.'"

"One night won't be enough," Kid warns. "You don't want to turn into an alcoholic." It sounds like experience talking.

"And be like Occhan?" Shinichi says, disgusted. "No way!" He looks, really looks at Kid's face for the first time. He's been avoiding it because he doesn't want to know what he looks like. Kid's sad. His knuckles are turning white from clutching his glass so hard. "I think she might have waited, if I'd asked," Shinichi says. "But I didn't."

It turns quiet. Kid doesn't say anything. Nothing but the murmur of patrons and the clink of glasses.

"Hey, Kid?" Shinichi says to break the silence.

"Yeah?" Kid says.

"Don't be sad, either." Shinichi says, tracing a smile on Kid's face, touching those soft lips again. "Forget with me."

Kid lets out a shuddering breath. "Okay," he says. Then, "Okay." He downs another glass, then another.

Shinichi doesn't know how deep into his cups he is. Kid's friend Zara is as good as her word and keeps them supplied with alcohol, enough to keep them drunk, but not enough to make them sick. Shinichi thinks he loves her for that.

Kid's matched him drink for drink, and even more. They've had to switch from Shinichi's tab to his just to keep up.

It's a very pleasant floating buzz.

It's twilight now, and Shinichi's mobile has been vibrating so much he's had to turn it off. Kid's hasn't gone off once.

The world is rocking pleasantly when Shinichi catches sight of Kid's hand.

"Oh my god. You're wearing a ring," Shinichi says.

"I am?" Kid says, blinking. "Oh. I am," he says, looking down at it. "It's pretty."

"That's my ring," Shinichi says, squinting at it. It's hard to see. It keeps moving. But he thinks he recognises it.

"Oh my god. We're married," Kid says, stunned.

Shinichi frowns. "We're not," he says. "I don't have yours. We're only engaged."

"Well, why not?" Kid says, pouting. "It's not fair! We should match. Come on!" he says, tugging at his hand. Shinichi can't do anything but follow.

The nice lady behind the bar is calling out to them but Shinichi doesn't care. Kid's hand is warm in his, and as they run, Shinichi realizes the slope of his shoulders and the nape of his neck is quite nice.

It's early evening, the sun is just setting, but the lights are already bright and disorienting, even for a Tokyo native; the neon flickers in and out, the tourist crowds are thick after the rain, the dampness lingers making everything hot and sticky, the smell of burning oil and other petroleum products makes Shinichi nauseous.

They don't stay on the Strip long. Kid ducks down a few side streets, and suddenly they're at a jeweller's. Bright pink footprints mar the sidewalk outside. It's small, not as flashy as the other storefronts, and looks a little run down. Kid pushes the door in; the cool, dry air feels wonderful to Shinichi's feverish skin.

The inside is clean and inviting, a far cry from how it looks outside.

"Hey, long time no see!" a swarthy man with a moustache calls from the back of the store.

"Hey, Miguel," Kid says, sauntering through the glass cases, leaning over a case of rings close to the cash register. "How's Lupe?"

"She's doing great! She misses you. You should come by for dinner sometime. What can I do for you today?" He comes out from behind the counter. His English is lilting and musical.

"Looking for a pair of wedding bands."

Miguel's eyebrows raise. "Oh, for your friend, there? Unless there's a señorita you haven't told me about, eh?" He elbows Kid in the side. Kid takes it with grace, laughing and waving him off. "The case is over there."

Kid walks over to it, thinking about it for a moment, leaning down. "Hmm, yeah. Those'll work." His hand slides forward as he peers in the case, and the proprietor catches sight of the ring, grabbing Kid's hand and nearly making him slip.

Miguel whistles. "That's a custom piece. Good work, too." He turns sly, white teeth gleaming, crow's feet crinkling as he beams at Kid. "Hey, you didn't tell me they were for you two, huh. Not a little lady after all. He's handsome."

Shinichi's not sure if he's seeing things, but he thinks he sees the faintest hint of pink on Kid's cheeks.

"I said I owed you, man. Fifty percent off whatever. Whole store."

Kid frowns. "How do you make money?"

"Well if it weren't for you, I'd be out my whole stock, so," the man shrugs.

Shinichi can see the signs of a break in. Frayed wires, darker colored paint where they'd moved the CCTV cords that were cut. Also signs of a higher quality security system being put in place. Reinforced locks on the cases.

And perhaps the most telling, bright pink paint splatter showing the silhouette of a human being given a place of honour. He smiles. That explains the footprints outside.

"Full price," Kid says.

"All right, all right. Let me know if you find anything you like," he says, just leaving thousands of dollars out as he heads into the back room.

Kid takes his time perusing the case. "What do you think about this one?" he says, holding out a pair of white gold bands with diamonds all around them.

"You stopped a thief?" Shinichi asks.

"Mhmm. Needed new cufflinks. Lupe's a fan. Literally ran into me one day at my show. I helped her up. She mentioned her husband's shop when she saw me fiddling with my loose buttonhole and I couldn't not go."

"That—" Shinichi pauses, looking for a good word. It's hard to find when he has to fight through the haze to think.

"Yes, too flashy for you."

That wasn't what he was going to say. Kid continues to surprise him. It makes sense for a thief to be the best deterrent against thieves. He is drawn though, to the yellow gold bands. They're all so plain, and honestly he does prefer them, but there's a pair that has little bits of sapphire embedded every so often. He points to it, grabs at Kid's hand with the ring. "It matches," he says, feeling inordinately proud of himself.

"That it does, Detective. These?" He says, and suddenly he's too close. Wide eyed, Shinichi can only nod and tilt forward, leaning against him.

"These it is!" Kid chirps, settling his hand around Shinichi's hip.

Miguel comes back not a moment too soon, and he has something with him. "Here. Since you won't accept the discount," he says, handing things to Shinichi. He opens his hand It's a matching pair of jewelled cufflinks, the same ones as Kid is wearing now, and a tie clip, two, three grand easy. "So you can match at the wedding, yeah?"

"Thanks Miguel," Kid says, and he sounds a little choked up.

"No problem, my friend. I'm expecting an invitation to the wedding though!"

Kid gives him the rings, and he nods. "Of course," he says as Miguel rings them up, goes through his inventory and gives them the correct sizes. Kid won't let him wrap them, even as he does accept the ring boxes.

Kid slips the ring on Shinichi's finger while they're still in the cool air of the store. "Now we match," Kid says, grinning.

Shinichi does the same, and something in his heart lurches at how well the three rings go together. It matches the diamond ring almost perfectly.

And then Kid grabs his hand, and they move back into the Las Vegas night.

Kid moves with purpose, like he's walked these streets for years. Who knows? Maybe he has. His posture is good, his head held high like he has a lot to be proud of.

They walk for some time before Shinichi sees Kid's face plastered all over a billboard advertising his magic show. He's stunned for a moment, just staring. Maybe he does have a lot to be proud of. He stops. Their hands are still linked together

"It says that you're a world famous magician and escape artist," Shinichi says, giggling. "That's what it says," he says, pointing. "It's your face."

"Well, yes. And?" Kid says, like it's nothing. Like it doesn't have his face plastered all over it. Like it doesn't say he's famous.

"World famous magician and escape artist," Shinichi repeats with emphasis. It's almost accusational.

"Yes? I knew you'd find out my name eventually. It's not like I'm not famous," he sounds resigned. "Though I did hope it might be a little later."

If there was a name up there, he's already forgotten it. Shinichi loops his arms around Kid's neck, whispers in his ear. "My mom's a big fan," he says. "I heard her talk about wanting to see you."

"I'll get her VIP tickets, how does that sound?" Kid says. "I'd have to know your real name first, though. You didn't give me enough time to read your badge," he complains.

"Of course," Shinichi continues, ignoring the offer, "I didn't know it was you-you, or I'd have wanted to see you, too."

"I don't really think you'd want anything to do with me sober," Kid says ruefully. "Considering our history and all."

Shinichi pouts, sags against Kid's neck almost causing the both of them to fall over before Kid braces himself against the pavement. "How can you say that?" Shinichi whines. "You were the best time I ever had," he says, unknowing or uncaring of how loud he is. He loved the heists. They were always really fun.

Kid chokes. "You can't just say things like that out in public!" he says.

Shinichi blinks. "But it's true, though," he says, still whining. "I liked chasing you." He frowns. People are looking at them curiously. "Even when you threw women's underwear at me," Shinichi says, remembering the Black Star heist. That gets a few titters from the crowd forming. Shinichi doesn't know why they are laughing.

"Detective!" Kid hisses. "Keep it down!"

"What? You know," Shinichi says, "It's really funny seeing you act like this when you used to have no shame. I mean that time when you dressed as a maid—" There's outright laughter now, and Kid clamps his hand over Shinichi's mouth. What? He's not saying anything wrong. Kid did dress as a maid in order to get into old man Suzuki's safe, and he did act annoying.

"Let's go in here," Kid says abruptly, pulling them into the nearest establishment.

It's a karaoke bar. Shinichi drags his feet as Kid fumbles with his wallet and pays. As drunk as he is, he knows he still sounds like a dying duck. Kid drags him in, shoves him in a booth. "I don't want to sing," Shinichi whines into Kid's shoulder.

Kid lets out a sigh. "You don't have to if you don't want to," Kid says. "I just wanted to get you off the street," he mutters. "My PR manager is going to have a field day."

"You care about that now?" Shinichi asks, genuinely curious.

"Not really," Kid says, "But I don't like making extra work for people who are already working hard enough."

"Wow. You sound really mature," Shinichi says.

"You know, I can't tell if you're being sarcastic or not. I used to not care. I guess it's one of the things about growing older," Kid says. "I'm sure you'd know all about it," he says, cutting his eyes at Shinichi.

"What?"

"Growing older?"

"I guess. If it means feeling like you're getting left behind by everyone. The Detective Boys are teenagers now," Shinichi says. "Teenagers," he says again. He can't believe it. And that's what time does. It wears things down, pulls things apart. Leaves them behind. Like everyone left Shinichi behind. And there the tears go again. Shinichi doesn't think he's cried this much in his life ever.

"Hey, I'm still here," Kid says, slapping his back. Shinichi wobbles from the impact.

"You left too, though. I haven't seen you in like this many," he says, holding up two hands.

"Not that many," Kid says, shaking his head. "More like—" and he starts counting on his hands, but keeps giving up after he gets to three.

"I'm old," Shinichi says.

"Harry Houdini and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle were friends," Kid says suddenly, out of the blue. "Did you know that?"

"Huh?" Shinichi says. He knew it once. Maybe.

"Yeah. Houdini's job was to shower people in illusions. They weren't real, but then, they didn't have to be. His job was to entertain. It's what a magician does. It's technical skill, showmanship."

"That's what a magician is," Shinichi nods, then tilts when it makes his head spin, holding on tightly to the table.

"And Doyle wrote stories about the greatest logician of his time, but he spent a lot of time and money on séances. He really believed. Or believed that he believed."

"Whoa," Shinichi says. "Ghosts aren't logical at all."

"Right? Houdini knew all the tricks they used, since magicians used similar things and just tried to keep his friend from being taken advantage of. It's really too bad they had a falling out over it," Kid says, looking down. "Anyway, the point is it's not impossible, right? We could be friends? A detective and a magician?" He's looking at Shinichi, expectant, focused, and Shinichi can feel himself warm. 'A detective and a criminal,' is what he doesn't say. Though how much of that is true anymore Shinichi doesn't know. If Kid steals, he doesn't do it publically. Shinichi wonders if that leaves him feeling empty, not doing the heists anymore. It certainly made Shinichi feel like something was missing. Though he really shouldn't encourage criminal behaviour. Maybe they could still be rivals in a non-criminal/law enforcement way?

"I don't think so." Kid's face falls, and Shinichi endeavors to correct himself. "No, I mean I don't think it's impossible. I'd like to be friends."

The server comes, and they order more alcohol. Shinichi doesn't think he could keep any food down, but Kid orders water for both of them to keep something on their stomachs.

"You know, the audience loves me. For a long time, I thought that was enough, making them happy," Kid says.

"What?" Shinichi asks. "What do you mean? Enough of what?"

"Enough love." Kid holds out his hand, sweeping across in front of the microphone stand. "I'm not talking about romance. You ever just lack?" then he stops, like he doesn't want to finish the thought.

"Lack what?"

"People," Kid says. "Like, the audience loves me, but it's their idea of me. I mean, even you—" and he stops again.

Shinichi scrunches his nose, leans over, peering at him.

"It's not real. I have my mum, and Jii's getting older, but who else? Nobody, that's who. Who mourns an illusion?"

"You know, there's still time, and we're still here," Shinichi says. "I'm here."

"I just want a friend, I guess," Kid says with a sigh. "A companion. It's lonely like this."

Shinichi waggles his eyebrows."I'll be your companion."

"I'm sure you'll will." Kid shoves him a little bit, and laughs. "Aoko's an Assistant Inspector now, you might even work with her." He tilts his head. "Well, no. You're probably homicide. Still, you're closer than I've been in a long time." He leans up against Shinichi. Shinichi wraps his arm around him. "We still talk, you know. But we've drifted so far apart it's like we're on distant planets. She knows about everything, and it's not what drove us apart." He laughs again, and there's a wild edge to it. "I always thought that'd be the deal-breaker." He knocks his drink back. "Shows how much I know. It was time, distance."

"I love you. I'll love you forever," Shinichi says, drawing out the word.

"Sure. I love you. And you'll love me," Kid says. "Until you wake up sober tomorrow." He sighs. "It's a nice illusion. I'm good at those," he says, and laughs.

"I will," Shinichi insists stubbornly. "I'll be your best best friend," he looks at Kid with wide eyes. He has to make him understand.

Kid laughs again, and this time it's a little less heavy. "I'm sure you will." He folds left hand over Shinichi's. "I have a life here, and you have one in Tokyo. I guess what I'm trying to say is you'll leave."

"I'll stay," Shinichi promises.

"You say that now…" As if to distract himself, Kid picks up the microphone, queues up something by Queen. The words and music wash over Shinichi. "…I've been wandering round / But I still come back to you / In rain or shine…"

Shinichi sits and lets Kid's beautiful voice cascade around him, nursing his drinks, hovering on that knife's-edge between buzzed and gone. It's a delicate balance. He cycles through a few more songs, still by Queen, before he pushes the microphone in Shinichi's hand. "Come on, you can't let me sing all alone."

"I doubt they have any Two-mix," Shinichi says, but flips through the catalogue in a haze. He accidentally presses the button, but before he can drop it, there are already words forming across the screen.

"…Take these broken wings / And learn to fly again / Learn to live so free…" And he's off-key as usual, but Kid's not covering his ears or complaining, just listening to him with a half-smile on his face. It relaxes Shinichi, and soon he's singing his heart out. "…Baby, I think tonight / We can take what was wrong and make it right…"

He realises that Kid's singing along with him, hand covering his on the microphone. "...Baby, it's all I know / That you're half of the flesh / And blood that makes me whole / I need you so…"

The last note lingers as they share space, and Shinichi can't breathe.

Kid looks at him, and smiles, really smiles, open and honest and true.

Shinichi doesn't want to let this go.

They hold hands as they leave and head back on the street. It's truly dark, now, and the moon is large and pale and orange, shining futilely over the bright lights of Las Vegas.

It feels like a dream.

It's a long walk back to the Kaitou Kid's casino, and even then it's mostly quiet, Shinichi's thoughts heavy even through the haze of alcohol.

The night feels almost over but it's relatively early, the moon halfway risen. It doesn't feel like it should be over already, and even now Shinichi can't think of any way to extend the night.

They head up to Kid's hotel room, heart sinking bit by bit.

A disappointing dream.

"We didn't get married," Shinichi says mournfully as Kid ushers him into the hotel room, closing and locking it behind him.

"No, we didn't," Kid says. "And for very good reason. You can still barely walk straight." He guides him to the bed, sits him down gently.

"We could so pull off a marriage," Shinichi says as they stare at the rings against the white of the bed sheets.

"You're very drunk," Kid says, just as drunk.

"I mean it. It's not like it's hard," Shinichi says, wrapping his arms around Kid.

"I'm not going to marry you while you're not in your right mind," Kid says, though his arms settle around Shinichi's waist.

"Why not?" Shinichi whines into his chest.

Kid lets out a long-suffering sigh, tightening his arms. "Because I don't wish to take advantage of you, Detective."

Shinichi sets his jaw. "Haven't you ever heard of 'In vino veritas?' I've," he pauses, swallows thickly. "I've admired you a long time." He lets go, looks away. "You're clever, you're…." everything, he doesn't say.

"I'm very flattered," Kid says, running his fingers down Shinichi's jawline and gripping his chin, bringing their faces close. "Believe me. But I have no desire to be one of your regrets."

"How can I regret when you make me feel alive?"

"I am a concept to you right now. An illusion. Mist over the sea and just as fleeting."

Shinichi feels oddly like he's being dumped. "But…" And to his chagrin, he feels tears burning in his eyes again.

"Detective," Kid says, "it's not a no." He takes his thumb, wipes away Shinichi's tears, runs his hand down Shinichi's arm, light and teasing, and links their fingers together, rings touching. "It's a promise. I'll be waiting for you. When you're ready."

Then he leans in and kisses him. Just a press of lips at first, but when Shinichi licks at his lower lip, Kid opens his mouth, lets Shinichi map the contours, sucks hard on his tongue in a mimicry of something else. Shinichi mewls, cants his hips, and Kid lets out a strangled sound as they brush together.

Kid pulls away, hand covering his mouth and Shinichi is dazed and breathless and flushing. "All I'm willing to take, and even then, nearly too much. Sleep on it, love."

"It's hot," Shinichi complains, tugging at his tie. Kid obliges him by unknotting it in what looks like a single motion. He drapes it over the headboard.

His waistcoat is next, white hands stark against the pale blue silk, peeling it off him. Then evening shirt, each button undone slowly, methodically. Shinichi can't breathe, far, far too hot, but Kid's hands are brands, and they tremble as they touch his bare skin.

Kid skips the rest, though his hands linger at Shinichi's waist and undo the button and zipper there. He slides down his body, taking off one sock, one shoe at a time. Every touch lingers, almost as if Kid doesn't want to leave. It's torture.

Kid folds his clothes up neatly, but Shinichi is still too hot, so the trousers and the rest come off.

Stunned, Kid can't look away. His eyes trace the distance of Shinichi's body, lingering there too. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, holds it for a long moment, and breathes out slowly. He folds those, too. Then he pulls the sheets over Shinichi, tucking him in.

The soft cotton sheets feel like cool water against his burning skin, and he snuggles deep underneath them, drowsy now that he's cooled down a little bit.

Kid disappears for a moment, coming back shirtless in a pair of low-slung black pyjama bottoms that accentuate every line of his body. He places a change of clothing on Shinichi's side, then he lays down beside him on top of the covers, kisses the curve of Shinichi's cheek, pulls him back against his chest, tucks him underneath his chin and into his arms.

"Sleep," he says.

And Shinichi does.

Shinichi wakes up with a pounding headache and a mouth that tastes of bile. He opens his eyes, and the afternoon light is too much coming in from the window, so he closes them, nuzzling against the warm spot next to him.

Wait. Warmth? He opens his eyes again, blinking back against the sun, and sure enough, it looks slept in, like the spot was only vacated moments before Shinichi woke up. He yelps looking around for the person, and scrambles out of bed, sheets twisting around him. They catch his legs, and he falls out of bed with a thump, hitting his head against the floor. He doesn't recognize the room. It looks like a hotel room, but Shinichi's isn't this classy. No, it looks like a penthouse suite. The bed is a king, and with a dawning sensation of horror, Shinichi realizes he's naked. He scrambles to his feet and wraps the sheet around himself. It has to be at least a thousand thread count, it's so soft and smooth. It feels like water on his skin.

There's a envelope on the nightstand, and next to it, a red rose. Shinichi's hands are trembling as he picks it up. It doesn't say anything. He flips it over to find it sealed.

He doesn't remember anything last night after ducking out of the rain and into a casino's bar. He remembers drinking, but perhaps not so much as he must have.

A shining glint of gold catches his eye. Shinichi looks down at his hand in horror. The only thing he is wearing is a gold band. He didn't—!

But it is Vegas, where you can get a marriage license filed in less than two hours, and he is hungover and in an unfamiliar room. His stomach churns.

It looks lived in for a hotel room. Though ornately decorated, it's filled with clothes and starry boxes, knotted scarves and top hats and suits. A large cage sits in the corner with six doves inside. A magician's room. It's easy enough to deduce.

He turns the card over, breaks the red wax seal with his thumb, pulls out a white card.

A promise kept; I'll

be waiting for you. When you

are ready, call me~

And below, a number and a doodle of Kaitou Kid with a little heart.

Shinichi stares at the card for some time.

His stomach is doing something funny. Not churning anymore, but butterflies?

Kaitou Kid stopped his heists four years ago, right before Shinichi went into the academy. Shinichi hadn't ever attended them as himself. It hadn't been long after Haibara had synthesized the antidote they'd stopped. He'd never really had a chance to go, and had felt…robbed.

Kid was good at that.

He looks around the room in a new light. It's Kid's. He knows it's true the same way he knows the sun rises.

The sharp, clean lines of kana, the curve of the grinning face. There's no question. It's Kid. Kid and a rose and a card by his bedside.

Well, not his bedside. Kid's.

He got drunk and ended up in Kid's bed.

Well.

He can probably assume the ring is Kid's, too.

Hysteria bubbles up inside him, and he doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. He's here, after all these years, after his retirement, after the disappearance of the last jewel he never returned. For him to have the suite, he must work here, at least for a few days if he's on tour, and it contains all the trappings a magician might need.

Shinichi had honestly never expected to hear from him again. What happened? Just what had he done last night, he wonders, looking at his hand. The ring sits on his finger, innocuous. Deadly in its implication. Shinichi moves experimentally. He's not sore in the places he expects. He doesn't think anything of that nature happened. Kid wouldn't take advantage.

And then he's wondering if Kid knows. It's not like anyone but his friends and family know about Conan, and Kid doesn't seem the type to let a complete stranger in his bed.

Or maybe he is. It's not like he really knows the kind of man he is behind the monocle. He can only guess.

He bites his lip. Off-duty and on vacation or not, he's still a member of law enforcement. Kid took a real chance leaving him here with free access to his things. Giving Shinichi proof. Three years remain on the statute of limitations for the object of his last heist, and if Shinichi recalled the case file, the owner was all too willing to press charges.

There's a change of clothes next to his folded semi-formal wear; a black long-sleeved shirt and blue jeans and underclothing with his badge and wallet and pin on top. They're clean, and they fit him like they were made for him.

Shinichi's not too sure how he feels about that.

Also a pair of expensive cufflinks and a tie clip. They're not his; at least he doesn't think they're his. But something about them sparks familiarity, so he pockets them. A gift from Kid, maybe?

He turns on his phone, and it starts vibrating incessantly from all the notifications. He pages through a few of them, mostly texts and missed calls, and his heart sinks as he sees Ran's name and is reminded of what exactly made him get blackout drunk.

He'd completely forgotten. He laughs, half-surprised, and it's clear and bright and not bitter. He remembers that being somewhat of the point. He just didn't care anymore.

He glances down at the ring on his finger and at the card and the rose. The ring refracts the light with flecks of blue sapphire, and Shinichi can't help but be reminded of the engagement ring he bought so long ago. He can't help but notice both it and the ring box are missing, and there's no doubt in his mind where it went. He doesn't think Kid stole it. No, Kid likes spectacle, would have referenced it in his note. The shape of last night is starting to take form.

A card and a rose and a pair of rings exchanged.

It's not the end of the world.

Shinichi collapses back on the bed, putting his head in his hands. "Why is this my life?" he says, voice muffled, and then he's laughing as a giddy feeling wells up from deep inside of him. He'll call Ran later and explain all this somehow. He'll have to think of something. He doesn't even know how to explain it to himself.

He brings up the dialer on his phone, puts the number in his contact list. He hesitates just a moment before pressing the phone icon. If nothing else, he wants to know exactly what happened last night.

It rings twice before someone picks up.

"Hello?" Shinichi says.

"Detective," says a familiar lilting, teasing voice. "Hello."