Reposted from my tumblr, missherlocked, and from my AO3. I do not own anything.

I.

It's still eight o'clock in the evening but Kise is ready to go home, exhausted after a day-long modeling job somewhere in the heart of Tokyo. The traffic on the way out of the city is packed, full of people who are also getting home from work. Kise has dreaded this—he should've taken on that offer from his manager to drive him back, but as he already overworked the man, he refused.

The car's GPS beeps twice before reminding him that there is an alternate route ahead. Kise glances at the screen and recognizes the name of the road—it is where the red light district is positioned, the one that gets insanely famous on the internet for their love hotels' creative decorations. Kise has used that route before; just once, and it indeed took less time regardless of the slow drive, since practically every car ahead of him decelerated to watch the prostitutes that loiter the street.

Kise was using a friend's car at that time, however. Tonight, on the other hand, he was driving his personal car, and if he is caught entering the district, even though it's just for passing, he could get into trouble. Kise is not famous enough to warrant paparazzi hot on his trail all the time, but one can never be too careful.

Nevertheless, Kise is cranky and very, very tired, and he refuses to get sick—he already feels the headache that frequently appeared in the beginning of a cold—just because somebody might accuse him of something he's not doing, so he takes that left turn.

II.

It is considerably less dense in the district, and breathing comes easier. At first Kise is just going to pass without looking, but it turns out that it's very hard not to, when pretty bare skin is everywhere and neon lights blink cheerfully on the edge of his vision. He waits patiently for the car in front of him to pick up a busty, pink-haired girl, determined to enjoy the rest of his drive.

The GPS tells him to turn right—that's new, he thinks—and he finds himself travelling through what must be the male hookers' street. Kise never slept with a man, but he appreciates beauty if he looks at one, so he looks around curiously and chuckles when one of them steps closer into his car and walks away scowling once he sees that it's a man inside.

Kise isn't surprised when he finds almost none of them attractive, since in his line of work he's met plenty of gorgeous men every day, and these gigolos just simply can't compare. But there's one- there, under the hazy yellow light of the street lamp, a man so striking that Kise doesn't have to look twice to confirm it. His skin is evenly tanned; like he is dipped in caramel and left to dry, and his muscles are so incredible that every breath he takes practically makes them ripple across his skin. He isn't what people traditionally call handsome—Kise doesn't think he is handsome, per se, though his face is indeed well-proportioned. If there's one word that could describe him, that would be primal, for there is an air about him, as if he is a barely-tamed animal out of the cage.

Before he knows, he has stopped the car. He doesn't even know why, and he is already halfway out of the vehicle, so he pulls out his agency's business card on the intention of letting the hooker know that he could've done better things on his life. The modeling industry needs more of that kind of face anyways. It's a last minute decision, to make Kise appear less of an idiot, but it is no less true.

III.

There is someone else beside the hooker. Kise wonders why he notices this just now.

IV.

At the first glance, the… boy doesn't look like he belongs there, with his soft blue cardigan over a striped t-shirt and the Maji Burger drink on his left hand. He's modestly dressed, unlike the other who's topless and wearing jeans so low on his hips. He is tiny in the presence of the other man, and he is so pale that even that far apart Kise can tell the bold contrast of their skin tone. They look good together, would even better in a photograph, and Kise already has a half mind to take his mobile out and snap one before erasing the thought away.

Too young to be a customer, Kise concludes, but then he pays attention to what the boy is doing: flicking his tongue up and down his free hand, a stripe in the wrist before going north to his index finger. Kise flinches at the thought of the boy being a hooker, there must be a rule about it somewhere about fifteen-year-olds not selling their bodies, but he must be one, for apparently he has skill for a fantastic fellatio that would even put Kise's ex-girlfriends to shame.

"I'm sorry, pretty boy," said the taller boy lazily once detecting Kise creeping closer, sounding not sorry at all. "but I only take woman with tits. Big tits."

Kise's jaw falls, mouth gaping like a fish. "I- I'm not-"

The other laughs, the sound rough and grating, "Please," he says mockingly, "pretty boys like you don't need to hire sluts to get woman in their bed. What else are you doing here if not to find a man?"

"Aomine-kun," suddenly the boy says, voice so soft like the slightest wind could carry it away, but full of warning. Everything about the shorter male is soft and youthful, except for his eyes: precocious, and somehow Kise gets an image of the snow too stubborn to melt in spring and the rays of pale color refracting from his jar of marbles to the wall on good, sunny days.

V.

Kise never fucked a man, but at least he is bicurious, and the man-child is beautiful. If the women Kise had ever slept with were to be stacked and arranged in a glass case, he would get a rack of beautiful trophies.

VI.

What am I even doing here, Kise thinks to himself, almost crushing the card on his hand. But he has to finish this, so he stalks off to the arrogant hooker—it's a wonder how he'll get money ever with that attitude, maybe women do like bad boys after all—and thrust the business card to his direction.

The gigolo takes it with a raised eyebrow. "I can't fucking read kanji," he says once he looks at it, and he makes the motion to throw it back to Kise, but before he can do anything the short boy plucks it from his hand.

"Tetsu," the other growls.

"It's the contact person of an infamous modeling agency, Aomine-kun." says Tetsu—it's good to be able to put name on these faces, Tetsu-san and Aomine-san, Kise's mind repeats—mildly, expression so blank like an icy mask. To Kise he asks, "Am I to assume that he-" Tetsu tilts his head to his friend, and Kise is distracted by the white expanse of his neck, "can contact this number should he tire of his current job?"

Kise nods once. "Just say that you're recommended by Kise Ryouta," he says, ignoring the fuck no from Aomine. Not wanting to waste another time in the place—he is starting to attract attention, and that's not good at all—he turns around, waving a hand over his shoulder when he hears a polite thank you muttered on his way.

What the fuck was I doing, he thinks once he gets in the car. He doesn't even know what brings him to stop- well, Aomine did, but he's not the one to make Kise stare.

VII.

Two knocks on the car's window by the driver's side disturbs Kise from his lament. The blond turns his head and catch the pale hooker from before hovering by the flexi-glass. Pressing down the button to roll down the window, Kise asks, without masking his aggravation, "What?"

Tetsu bends down to level his face with Kise's and does not show that he notices the new resentment towards him. "Your cellphone," he tells instead, handing the sleek communication device through the gap—Kise only opens the window up to his eye.

With a barely concealed shock, the model pats down his blazer and find that yes, his mobile is nowhere to be found, and yes, that one in Tetsu's grasp is definitely his. He takes it from the other, finally letting the window go all the way down, because it's only courteous to do so. Kise hasn't even realized that his cellphone had fallen down from his pocket.

"Thank you. Where did it fall down?"

Here, Tetsu purses his lips. It's red, unlike the rest of him, which is so uncolored. It prompts Kise to conceive that probably that same mouth has just been fucked not long ago, and sickness swells sharply within his stomach to think about the pedophiles that must've been touching this innocent-looking boy. He tries not to think about the tug of attraction coming along with it, however. How much he's paid, Kise attempts to ponder dispassionately, only for his mind to wander off to the content of his wallet, wondering if the cash with him is enough or not.

"Truly, I have to apologize beforehand." Tetsu bows deeply at this, "Actually, Aomine-kun has stolen it. I managed to convince him to give it back."

Rather than feeling angry, Kise is amazed. He's always been easily fascinated; it's going to be his downfall. Like now. He really shouldn't stay here long. "How? I wasn't even at an arm distance from you two!"

"Well. You left, and you turn your back to us. Aomine-kun can be very stealthy if he wants to." Kise imagines the dark man skulking after him, and he finds it hard to believe all those muscles didn't make a sound as he moved. "That said, I'm very sorry that I wasn't able to stop him. I did elbow him, to make him suffer a little. I've been told I have very pointy elbows."

That startles a laugh out of Kise.

"You're cute," You're also a whore, he can't help but add. Does he take male or female customers, his curiosity inquires, taking over his brain again; Tetsu's stature definitely appeals for older women and dominant men…

Tetsu looks at Kise strangely. "Did you mean to ask Aomine-kun's sexual orientation by that?"

"I'm sorry- did I just say that out loud? Oh my god, which part?"

"Aomine-kun is straight."

"I wasn't asking about that!"

"It's okay." There is a small secretive smile on Tetsu's red mouth. He puts his index finger over his lips. "I won't tell anyone. Aomine-kun tends to have that effect on people."

Do you know you have effect on people, too, Kise doesn't blurt out, blinking dazedly at Tetsu's charming gesture.

Kise rests his elbow in the window. He asks for Tetsu's name, for he thinks if he gets it from the boy personally, he will stop thinking of Tetsu as a sexual object rather than a person.

"My name is Kuroko Tetsuya. Kise-san, is it?"

How fitting, fleetingly Kise reflects as he nods. "Well, Kuroko-kun, I really have to go," says Kise. His eyes keep straying where the front of Kuroko's t-shirt sags, for the underage hooker has leaned over, to reveal cutting collarbones and the smooth surface of his chest. If he stays here longer, he'll probably get caught for staring too much at it. "It's really nice to meet you!"

Kuroko steps away from the car. "Enjoy the rest of your evening."

"Thanks, I will," not, silently Kise continues, cringing at the thought of the intense masturbation session he'll probably have later at home. "Kuroko-kun. The modeling offer extends to you too. Quit your job, call that number, and at least you'll make twice as much."

With that, Kise allows the dark-tinted glass to slide up. As it moves, he hears a wolf-whistle, yelling, "Oi Kuroko, got 'em rich, didja!" and Kuroko, calling back, "You know how I like them, sir."

Driving away, Kise sincerely hopes the boy will take up on his suggestion.

VIII.

The first thing Kise does when he reach home is to Google underage male prostitution, and how much a night usually cost. He goes to the bathroom then. Under the hot shower he improves his half-erection to hardness. After he finishes, he pretends he's never met anyone named Kuroko Tetsuya, or how he's imagined filthy things that he wishes he can do to the boy. Kise has always been a good actor.

IX.

"Kise-san."

The man addressed half-jumps in the bar stool. He turns to his left, and there, nursing something that someone of his age shouldn't have, sits the boy that has been haunting his wildest dreams.

X.

It's another hard day at work. Sexually frustrated and strung-up, Kise decides he needs to unwind alone at the bar. He dons his thick-rimmed glasses, a nondescript suit people with desk job usually wear, and slicks up his hair. He takes off his piercing, leaving the hole in his ear bare, and drives to a high-end bar across the town.

This isn't the first time Kise has done this. No one has ever recognized him. If people do find out, Kise's still fashionable enough, and no one can find fault on him trying to have a drink alone.

Until Kuroko Tetsuya, of course.

"Are you even old enough to have that?" questions Kise, frowning, already half the mind to snatch the alcohol from the hooker.

Kuroko's brows twitch. As if he reads Kise's thought, he curls his fingers around his drink protectively.

"I'm twenty-five. It's usually polite to say hello first, Kise-san."

"Hello," Kise obeys distractedly, too busy eyeing Kuroko's outfit. The other is wearing a thin black vest with hoodie and tight pants under the boots lacing up his calf. Three things Kise knows: 1. That isn't something people normally wear in this kind of bar; 2. Kuroko isn't a regular hooker- he's an expensive male escort, most likely, because that watch definitely is a real Rolex; 3. He looks very, very attractive.

Psh. As if Kise needs a reminder of the last fact.

Kuroko clears his throat pointedly. Forcefully Kise steers his gaze up to the other's face.

"That's what they said, Kurokocc-kun. You should've gone for twenty years-old, that's more believable."

"How old do you think I am?"

Kise looks at Kuroko's lithe arms and his bare armpits, and answers, "Fifteen? Sixteen?"

"Kise-san, please understand that it takes every ounce of my control not to hit you right now." Then Kuroko reaches behind his back and gets his wallet. He takes his ID out and places it in front of the blond. "Look for yourself."

It does show Kuroko Tetsuya and his date, which was on January 31, twenty-five years ago. He's only several months younger than Kise, even. Guilt upon thinking of debauching an underage drains out of Kise, like unplugging a bathtub full of water.

Now that the last stopper is gone, Kise covets for Kuroko more than ever. He busies himself with his cocktail to make himself focus on somewhere else. It doesn't work.

Steeling himself, Kise tries to strike a conversation. "You're alone?" asks he, and right away he berates himself for that. Of course Kuroko is. The escort is possibly looking for a customer right now. With vehemence Kise looks around, scanning the bar for a potential rival.

Kuroko hums. "I'm not right now."

That invites a noise from the back of Kise's throat. Slowly he shifts his attention back to the man (man now, he's twenty-five, praise the God), and finds the other looks to Kise's mouth and then to his eyes, index finger leisurely tracing the border of his glass in circles. Drowned in the heavy thumps of music around them, the movement doesn't make a sound.

Does this how he trap them, flittingly Kise muses, if so, it's working perfectly.

"Do you want to go outside?" The model surprises himself with how raspy he has sounded.

It's very interesting how sultry Kuroko has looked like even though he barely makes a change on his expression. "I don't like back-alleys, Kise-kun."

Expensive male escort, yes, of course he doesn't want back alley's dirty fuck. "No no no, certainly not," Kise shakes his head hard, apprehended. "No. No. My place."

Kuroko smiles that secretive smile again. "I hear you the first time, Kise-kun."

Kise is so whipped, it's dangerous.

XI.

The apartment that Kise lives in is situated on the outer ring of the city. It's twenty stories tall, with a garden on the rooftop, and an access to a pool.

"Have some decency, Kise-kun." Kuroko mutters after they get out of Kise's car, eyes dropping pointedly at the taller man's crotch.

Quickly Kise covers his front with the briefcase he has brought to complete his disguise. His hard-on is straining against his zipper, and with the material of his trousers, the bulge is unmistakable.

"Been looking, haven't you, Kurokocchi?"

Somewhere along the way Kise has lost his inhibition and calls the escort the way that he likes. Kuroko barely bats an eyelash at the nickname.

"Yes."

"What do you think?"

"I might need a further inspection."

That sets something to quiver on the bottom of Kise's stomach. In the elevator he stands as far as he can from the other, else he will do something too inappropriate for the CCTV to pick up. He watches Kuroko from his blurry reflection in the metal-covered cab's wall as he listens to the feminine voice reading the number of the floor they're stopping at to get other people, which sounds like a countdown.

In his brain, Kise forms a plan: open the door. Slam Kuroko against said door, before he can say how nice Kise's apartment is.

Now the door to Kise's place is open. Before Kise can follow his program, Kuroko has slithered around him to get further inside. Turns out he's interested in Kise's basketball, which is lain on the floor behind the couch in his living room.

"Do you play?"

Kise fixes a glance at Kuroko's bottom when the shorter man bends down to take the ball.

"I do."

"Are you good?"

The model waits until Kuroko has turned around to face him, and winks. "Very."

"Let's play first, then. Didn't we pass a basketball court just a block from here?"

Kise gapes. He's on the verge of exploding in his pants, and Kuroko asks him to play basketball. "Are you serious?!"

Kuroko has thrown his face away, but Kise catches the end of his smile anyways. With only three long strides he's across the hall to haul the other to his couch, simultaneously stealing the basketball and lets it bounce somewhere. Then he stretches on top of Kuroko, hands on either side of his head.

"You're so mean! Don't tease me like that."

"Kise-kun, you should've looked at your fa- hnn," Kuroko is interrupted by his own moan.

Kise grinds down again. He actually doesn't have any experience in this homosexual frickle frackle, but this past month Google and the amount of gay porn he's watched will serve well as a teacher.

A nimble hand on Kise's nape tugs him down to meet Kuroko's lips. Kise makes his own sound at the kiss, and because he's impatient, he press his hands around Kuroko's jaw to force his mouth open wider so that he can lick inside. The smaller man follows the edge of Kise's teeth with his tongue, then nips on his lower lip.

He has baby teeth and a small mouth, Kise notices. When he shoves his hand inside of Kuroko's pants, he also finds out that the other has pubic hair. Normally Kise doesn't like that on his women, but this time he's grateful: he really is not going to fuck a jailbait, hurrah.

Kuroko kicks his boot and gets his denim off at the same time. Kise allows him to do that, concurrently taking his own slacks off. He even helped Kuroko relieve from his brief, and when he's finally naked waist-down the blond pushes the vest up to lap at his nipple whilst one of his hands drags at Kuroko's cock.

The sounds Kuroko is making are soft. It's almost like watching porn with the volume turned low. Kuroko is pink all over, save for his nipples, which are purple in the yellowish lighting, and he keeps arching off the couch, because he's so sensitive.

"Fuck, the lube's in my bedroom," Kise swears, aghast for he has to pause at his counterattack for Kuroko's earlier teasing.

"Let's go there, then," says Kuroko in a seriousness that should be funny in this situation, but at the moment Kise wholeheartedly agrees. He's already half-rolling to get up, but Kise swiftly picks him up and carries him, one arm around on his shoulder and the other on the base of his spine.

When the lube is ready and Kuroko is spread on the bed, Kise takes his time to look. The cleft of Kuroko's ass is already slick from the Kise's pre-cum, because he's rubbing against Kise when he was carried to the bedroom. The sight of it makes the blond twitch.

Preparation is purely because Kise is curious. You don't need to prepare at all if you have sex regularly, he's read. The blond never tries anal before with his past girlfriends, having never it cross his mind nor been asked to.

"You clean?"

Kuroko digs one of his heels to Kise's back. His entrance is blinking. "I am. Are you?"

"Yeah," says the blond. Then he pushes one finger in, careful, and finds it taut around his first knuckle. That is unexpected. "Is anal always this tight?"

As a response, Kuroko digs his other heel lower to Kise's rear. "Flattery will get you nowhere."

It wasn't meant to be a compliment, but Kuroko is oddly pleased, so Kise leaves him be. Now more confident, the model presses on. The inside is smooth, differently textured somehow—Kise tries to picture it around his dick.

"You're taking too long." And Kuroko pulls himself up by using Kise's neck as leverage, making the other almost loses his balance because he's too immersed in what he's doing. Kuroko pecks the corner of his lips. The gesture feels strangely intimate.

"Sit back." Kuroko says, his pink hands closing around the swelling head of Kise's cock. "Condom."

Kise agrees weakly. Condom sounds good right now. Really, really good.

Calmly Kuroko rips the small foil package Kise haphazardly shoves to him, put the elastic ring on the head on Kise's cock, and goes down.

Kise hates that the other can be so serene when he's so wrecked.

"Your mouth your mouth your mouth," Kise babbles as Kuroko expertly rolls down the condom with his lips, now cherry-red and stretched around his erection. This is the positive side of having sex with a professional, Kise recently has concluded: they're good.

XII.

Maybe he doesn't do this often, Kise thinks—hopes. Or maybe Kuroko just does kegel exercise regularly. Kise also finds out that Kuroko can't ride him for a long time, because he tires out easily, which Kise counts as a total loss because the short moment the other has ridden him was absolutely terrific. ("Keep hitting that spot now, yes?" "Yea- yeah-")

Kise sets the alarm to four o'clock. He wants to fuck Kuroko's mouth on the second round. A pity that they need to rest first.

XIII.

At four Kise tries to wake the other up, only to get a jab on his stomach. Kuroko's elbow is indeed a weapon of destruction.

Kise tries again two hours later, this time with better tactic on his part. Kuroko submits to pleasure easily, compliant when Kise guides his head to his lap, and without difficulty administers the best fellatio Kise has ever had.

The image will forever burn in Kise's mind, of this: Kuroko's head between his legs, his right hand keeping his own fringe from falling to his face and the other on the base of Kise's cock, covering what he can't fit into his mouth; the little knots along his spine like a set of pale keys, and his shoulder blades, moving almost bitingly under the thin, white skin.

Kise doesn't dare to put his fingers anywhere near the man, afraid to hurt. Because Kuroko is naked, Kise can see the bruises he's left on the other the night before, some red and some already turn blue. He doesn't think he was rough last night, but there they are, the marks from Kise's action: on Kuroko's sides, on his buttocks, shaped like fingers; on his shoulder and nape, hickeys.

Unbidding triumph blossoms on Kise's chest. Kuroko wouldn't be able to take any customer with those on his body, not anytime soon.

However, the smugness leaves as easily as it comes. The harsh fact that Kuroko is a hooker is like a knife on his gut. Kise's memory jogs back to last night, at their conversation on the drive to his place. Kuroko has been witty, smart like he has a college degree under his belt. His bluntness is a breath of fresh air. He's also a bully, but Kise likes that. The modeling world, on the other hand, isn't such an honest place.

Kise likes him enough that he'll ask the other out for dinner. If only he weren't an escort. Kise doesn't know how much of their friendly interaction last night was real. Isn't that what an escort does, to provide a company? Kuroko was probably trained, for god's sake.

After wiping come off his face, Kuroko rolls to his stomach and sleeps again. Kise has a job at eight. Kuroko has to leave at least an hour prior to that.

In the sky the sun hasn't fully risen yet. Under the dawn light Kuroko's eyelashes cast long shadows on his rosy cheeks. His hair is a mess. Kise extends a hand, as if to touch, then takes it back again. He contemplates leaving a note and some bills.

He can't be sure if Kuroko won't steal anything from his apartment once he's left. An escort, repeatedly Kise trying to remind himself. Kuroko's been nice so far, but usually bad people are only bad when people aren't looking.

Kise's white shirt was on the floor. He picks it up, throwing it in his hamper. It goes in. When he comes out from the shower he's already reached a decision, and after putting on some clothes he treads to the escort.

"Wake up, Kurokocchi." He shakes gently at the bony shoulder.

There is no verbal answer, but Kuroko crawls further into the blanket and burrows himself under the big pillows on the bed, curling like a cat.

That angers Kise somehow. He's seeing something that he wants, but can't have.

"Wake up," he says. "I have to leave."

Kuroko must have heard something in his tone, for he sits up quickly. "Kise-kun-"

"Take a shower, then leave."

The shorter man opens his mouth, as if he's about to say something, but closes it again. He gets out of the bed, and without discomfort to his nudity he toddles to the living room to gather his clothes. He's slightly limping by the time he goes to the guest's bathroom by the door leading outside, but his face doesn't show any pain.

Kise pretends not to care. When Kuroko is finished, Kise already has his boots on the porch. He stands by the door, waiting.

"What's the rush, Kise-kun?"

The model looks at the escort, feeling the water drops from the recent shower gather on Kuroko's nape like it's his own, and bites out.

"I have to leave for work real soon."

"Okay."

Kise counts the second Kuroko takes to lace up his boots. As soon as the other gets up, Kise takes one of his fists, uncurls it, and places twenty thousand yen.

"Listen. I had a great night. I don't know how much I should pay, but this should be more than enough."

It's the first time Kise sees such an open expression on Kuroko's face. "What is this, Kise-kun?"

"It's not enough? Fuck. Okay, wait here for a second." He runs to his bedroom and takes out a roll of cash he saves under his socks in his drawer. He strips out thirty thousand yen from the wad. He thinks about some old creep touching Kuroko's body once he's back to selling himself, so he exacts twenty thousand more, so that the escort doesn't have to work for a while.

Kuroko is still standing on the same spot as when Kise leaves him. He looks lost.

"Here, take this."

"Kise-kun-"

Then suddenly he can't bear to look at Kuroko anymore. "I wish you'll quit your job, Kurokocchi," he murmurs, sad, while he guides the other outside. "Goodbye."

He closes the door. His bell rings several times. Kise turns on the TV, raises the volume, and lets the knocks on his door ceases to none.

XIV.

The machine beeps twice.

"Hello, this is Kise Ryouta. Please leave your message or contact my manager at 03-7111-1111."

"Hello, Kise-kun. This is Kuroko Tetsuya. I need to talk to you privately. I think there has been a misunderstanding. Please call me back at this number."

XV.

Kise plays the message once. Then twice. After that he deletes it, and wipes his come-covered hand with a tissue.

XVI.

Two weeks after that, the model sees Aomine standing by the receptionist in his agency, fully clad in a police uniform. His shoulder fills out the shirt nicely, and he can see the receptionist appreciates it too.

The uniform looks awfully real. His last customer must be extremely rich. And kinky.

Kise is on his way home. He doesn't approach the man. If he wants to quit whoring himself on the street, good for him. He doesn't want anything to do with Aomine nor Kuroko—especially Kuroko—anymore.

Someone catches his sleeve. Kise spins.

"Kise-kun."

It's like the night at the bar all over again. Kuroko is even wearing a vest, now over a long-sleeved white shirt, but this one is sturdier and has Tokyo Metropolitan Police insignia on it.

Damn, he thinks. The customer must be really, really kinky, and really, really rich.

"Kurokoc-kun."

This time, Kuroko doesn't let the change in nickname slide. "What happens to Kurokocchi?" The question somehow weighs more than it should.

Kise knows it as well. "He left."

"He didn't. You made him leave."

"I did, didn't I," Kise's voice turns wistful. Then he straightens his jacket. "What do you want? Do you want more money, Kuroko-kun?"

Kuroko rests his palm on Kise's elbow to stop the other from reaching for his wallet. "I'm actually returning it."

Like a magic show, suddenly there's money underneath Kuroko's palm, seventy thousand yens in total. It has no crease, just like how Kise gave it several weeks ago.

Kise actually claps a little. "Whoa. How?"

"I have a lot of tricks up my sleeve." answers the escort, folding the bills and put it on Kise's breast pocket.

The model agrees; mind running back to their night together.

"I don't know why you gave me money after we had sex, Kise-kun. It's not like I'm a prostitute."

Kise doesn't breathe. It's as if the clock stops ticking. "Wait, what?"

Kuroko levels a look, the same deadpan gaze he wore when he told Kise that he wasn't fifteen. "I might have some clues as to why you had that idea. Let's take this outside."

"Wait, wait," Kise calls out to Kuroko's back, who's distancing himself rapidly towards the door. From the corner of his eyes, he can see Aomine heading to his direction.

"Idiot, fucking idiot," Aomine hisses at him with ferocity once he's near. He grabs at Kise's sleeve and drags him to follow Kuroko. "You. If you hurt Tetsu again, I'll fucking castrate you, you hear? I'll chop your dick into pieces, and feed it to pigs."

Aomine is very intimidating, even though he only has three centimeters on Kise. "What-"

"Aomine-kun," chides Kuroko. "It's not like I can't protect myself. I'm a policeman too, you know."

"But you're losing sleep over this-" here, Aomine jostled Kise around, "-guy!"

Kise gapes. If this is a role-play, they're taking it too far. "What the-"

"Close your fucking mouth. We're making a scene already, you don't have to look like an idiot as we're at it."

XVII.

In front of Kise, there are two identical badges. Kise is no expert, but he bets they're as real as they can get.

"So you both are officers." Kise parrots, still having a hard time wrapping his mind around the fact. They have taken to a coffee shop two blocks from Kise's agency, a quaint little place that will close up in half an hour, so it's mostly empty.

"Yeah," answers Aomine.

Kise gulps. He has had imagination of Kuroko calling him, "sir, yes sir, please, sir," but it's probably going to be the other way around, isn't it.

"You a policeman I can understand," the model points to Aomine. "But you?"

Kuroko doesn't look offended. It's like he's already on that end of the question so many times, it doesn't affect him anymore. "I'm more in the desk job, actually. They don't want me on the field."

"No, because we need your brain, Tetsu, not your brawn, which honestly you really lack of."

"Thank you, Aomine-kun."

The banter sounds old, like it's been repeated many times.

"But you were out there. You dressed up like a prostitute!"

"We were working undercover. I can't tell you the details, confidential case, you see, but one of them is a pedophile. He's up in the criminal food chain, you know, and he often visits the district. Tetsu's the one in the whole department who fits to be a jailbait."

"I wasn't wearing any outrageous outfit like Aomine at that night because we were testing out what the pedophile likes. I tried wearing high school uniform the day before. He looked at me, but he didn't stop. Then I tried going for the whole innocent teenager thing on the night you came to us."

"But you were sucking your fingers like it's a dick!"

Aomine makes a vomiting sound. Kuroko's countenance doesn't twitch, though he blushes a little.

"My milkshake spills."

"Tetsu always gags for vanilla milkshake like a slut."

Kuroko hits Aomine with the side of his palm on his stomach. "I don't."

"You stole my cellphone!"

Aomine shrugs. "My childhood friend likes you a lot, so I was thinking that giving her your cellphone would make her happy."

"You can't even read kanji," Kise tries to counter, still.

"Part of the act," says the taller policeman, his grin fierce and proud. He bumps fist with Kuroko. "We were good, weren't we,"

"That night in the bar-"

Kuroko answers this time. "I was undercover too. I was about to head home, because our target didn't show up. The other undercover officers all decided to go home then, except that Aomine wanted to stay around, so I accompanied him. When you came to sit by my stool Aomine had just left with a girl."

"Aaah, she was good, Tetsu," Aomine's hands open and close mid-air. "34DD, imagine that."

The blond doesn't heed that. He palms his face, ashamed. "Oh god, fuck me."

Kuroko tilts his head slowly. "Only if you call me sir."

XIX.

They go to their respective home after that. Kise wills the ground to swallow him whole, and repeatedly he slows his car, expecting an earthquake that will split the earth and eat his car with him inside, but it doesn't come.

XX.

"Kise-kun is extremely, extremely annoying." Kuroko declares while he tries to conjure one of the police academy training sessions in which they were taught how to release themselves if their limbs were held fast.

Kise rubs his cheek to Kuroko's head, mussing the hair.

"Had I known this I wouldn't have told him the truth. He's more courteous when he thought I was an escort."

Aomine nods lazily. Kise ignores that, too.

"You probably should train him, Tetsu. He's like a dog in heat. Get him neutered or something."

That, Kise minds. "Oi!"

"I like his penis as it is now, Aomine-kun, so no."

Aomine pretends to throw up under the table. He comes up several seconds later, looking extremely traumatized.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Kise, put your hands on the table where I can see it, now!"

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