Pairing: Shinichi x Kaito

Warnings: Shounen-ai (Shinichi x Kaito, reversible), minor OCs (although Radish Redwood is actually canon, I believe), grammar mistakes, "snippets" storytelling style, etc.

Notes: Found this on my computer and decided to post it. Not a fic that I'm all too proud of, but hopefully it's at least a little entertaining?

Title stolen from the song of the same name by All Time Low. Mostly because I couldn't think of a good title.

Anyway, hope you enjoy! - Luna

A Daydream Away

Shinichi figured it out on a rainy November morning.

He was tripping around a crime scene, feeling as if firecrackers were taking up residence in his head and his blood running too hot in his veins, when he nearly tripped straight through the caution tape.

Nearly, because suddenly there was suddenly an arm around his waist, yanking him back, and Shinichi's breath stuttered in his throat.

"Good God, Kudou, are you all right?" a voice growled at his ear, concerned and low, and Shinichi jumped, suddenly realizing that he was no longer looking at bloodstained sidewalk. The sky stretched endless gray before him. He flinched.

"Kuroba?"

"Yes," Kuroba confirmed, removing his arms from around Shinichi. He grasped Shinichi by the shoulders and twirled him around so they were face to face. Shinichi tried to smile at his friend of six months, but broke into a fit of weak coughs.

Kuroba scowled. His indigo eyes, startlingly bright against the dull shades of ash brown and slate gray in which the world seemed to be painted, searched Shinichi's. A hand reached up to cup Shinichi's forehead. "You're burning up. Are you okay?"

"Ah, I'm…" Shinichi murmured. He felt a little trapped, between Kuroba's hand on his skin and Kuroba's eyes only centimeters away. "Why are you here?"

"I got a call from Officer Takagi. He asked me to come pick you up," Kuroba answered. His frown was made of thunderclouds. "And I can see why. The hell were you thinking, coming out here in this weather when you're clearly not well?"

"It was a murder," protested Shinichi, bracing himself as Kuroba latched onto his arm and began leading him away from the scene. He would have said more, had his legs not chosen to give out at the exact moment in time and send him sprawling on the concrete. His head throbbed angrily, and Shinichi gave a sigh mixed with a groan of pain, clutching at his temples.

Kuroba stood over him, shaking his head. "Okay, Kudou, you're an idiot. We're getting you home," he muttered as he reached over and hoisted Shinichi back up, draping him over his shoulder.

Shinichi turned his head, resting his ear against the rough fabric of Kuroba's pea coat. Even as his feet dragged against the sidewalk and Kuroba grunted, shifting to accommodate Shinichi's weight, he couldn't help but admire Kuroba's profile against the charcoal sky.

And that was when Shinichi's head gave a particularly pained pulse and his stomach dropped out as he realized that he was kind of really in love with Kuroba.

The room was far too bare, Ran thought as she glanced at the skeletal bookshelf and the equally blank desk. It reminded her of the times when Shinichi had been mysteriously gone, when the room had been nobody's and she'd have to come sweep the dust off everything to remind herself that someone lived here. She did a quick spin, skirt fluttering around her calves as she took in the starkness of it all.

At the doorframe, Shinichi shifted uncomfortably. "Ran, it's time to go to the airport."

"Right." Ran's eyes traced the familiar path from the window to the far wall. She let her fingertips slide across the slightly rough surface as she carefully asked a question she'd been meaning to ever since she'd heard about Shinichi's plans. "You did tell Kaito-kun, right?"

There was only silence Shinichi paused for a beat too long. The light filtering in through the window sketched shadows underneath his eyes. Ran looked over her shoulder frowned at him, and he nodded quickly. "He didn't… say anything, though."

Ran sat on Shinichi's bed, arms folded across her chest. The sheets, freshly laundered, rustled as she tilted her head to one side, watching as Shinichi gave the room a last sweep. "Are you sure about this?" she asked softly.

Shinichi hiked the huge bag swinging on his shoulder up a little higher at her words, turning away. "This is for the best."

"I know that's what you think, but an entire six months…" Ran trailed off as Shinichi rubbed a hand through his hair, his expression hopeless.

"I need time, Ran. I can't be around him right now. Not when… you know."

The bed creaked as Ran stood up. Her feet made quiet sounds against the well-swept floor as she crossed the empty room to place a hand on her childhood friend's shoulder. "I honestly don't see why you won't just tell him, Shinichi. I doubt that there would be any negative consequences anyway."

Shrugging out of her grasp, Shinichi just sighed. "I don't want to ruin anything, Ran. I don't think I could stand it if I scared him off. We're fine as friends, but right now, I just can't anymore." His fingers played over the strap biting into his shoulder, and he blinked a few too many times as he left the room, heading down the steps.

Ran bit her lip. She knew that telling Shinichi that Kaito wasn't like that, that he most definitely wouldn't be disgusted if Shinichi admitted his feelings for him, was utterly useless – she'd done it many times before now – but she still wanted to. She understood all too well that she was powerless in this situation, as Shinichi's mind was made up and no amount of her logic could change that, but she still wanted him to know that Kaito would want to know. If she'd read Kaito's little furtive glances and almost invisible flushes whenever Shinichi got a little too close correctly, the man returned Shinichi's feelings.

Just – Shinichi wouldn't see it. Not yet.

She stood alone in the empty room and exhaled hard.

Hakuba glanced down at the screen on his phone, his eyebrows lifting slightly and his mouth setting into a line at the time. 8:04 p.m. Kudou was well on his way to New York, where he was supposed to stay for half a year to work with the NYPD. For reasons unknown. The news had reached him only yesterday, from a very blank, emotionless Kudou Shinichi.

He cast a quick glance up at Kuroba, who was sitting across from him, staring out the window stubbornly. A passing car drove by, headlights bouncing wildly and illuminating Kuroba's face, and Hakuba's lips tightened at the dark expression the magician wore.

Reaching over, he tapped the spot on front of Kuroba, demanding his attention. "Hey, you okay?" he asked, uncharacteristically nicely.

Mostly because anyone with eyes could see that Kuroba was five thousand and twenty-nine kinds of not okay, but Hakuba still felt the question had some merit.

Kuroba shot him a look so unexpectedly venomous Hakuba almost flinched. "Yes, I'm perfectly fine. So fine."

"Right." Hakuba's eyebrows were sky high, but he just sat back and examined Kuroba as Kuroba's lips twitched slightly and he emptied a packet of sugar into the cup of cold coffee sitting at his elbow.

Hakuba tried not to notice how his hand shook just the slightest bit.

He cleared his throat, eliciting a glare, though weak, from Kuroba. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Kuroba stared at him for about three seconds too long before he looked away. "Not really, no." Even though his words were edgy and irate, his face betrayed him. Long lines tugged his mouth downwards at the corners, and something about the clench of his jaw, the way his shoulders seemed the tiniest bit too tense, too measured, screamed his depression to the heavens.

The blond detective had no idea how to handle a Kuroba who wasn't grinning, pulling a prank, or annoying him. There was just something too – too wrong about it.

"Okay." Hakuba's voice sounded small and defeated, even to his ears. "Okay."

It was a bit cold, Shinichi thought as he dropped his suitcases and duffel bag onto the sparse floor of his leased apartment. He hit the light switch, blinking as dull light flooded the room. A kitchen, living room, one bedroom, one bath. It would do, though he was used to the vastness of the Kudou mansion.

After precisely thirty-five seconds of taking in his new home, Shinichi brushed off his clothes and pulled the door shut behind him. Let's start with the bedroom.

The sounds of traffic sang loudly in the background as Shinichi lugged his bag to the bedroom. His gaze swept across the sleepy, blank-faced walls, mentally comparing it to the ones back home. The white was a few shades off, a few shades too bright, but that would be okay. He'd get used to it. He'd forget.

He exhaled. At least, he could try to.

As Shinichi was trying to fit his clothes into the shallow closet provided, he felt his phone buzz frantically at his hip. Swallowing a curse as one of his shirts slipped off the hanger yet again, he dug his phone out of his pocket and held it to his ear. "Hello?" he asked in Japanese.

A tentative female voice cautiously stammered, "M-Mr. Kudou?" in English.

Oh, right. We're in the States now. "Yes, sorry," Shinichi apologized, this time in English. He set his shirt aside, shutting the closet door. "This is he, Shinichi Kudou."

"Oh, good," the voice said, greatly relieved. "This is Detective Laura Anderson from the NYPD. I'm one of Captain Radish Redwood's subordinates. We were wondering when you would be coming down to headquarters, though we understand your flight just arrived?"

"Uh…" Shinichi glanced at his watch, then around his empty apartment. It suddenly felt oppressive and far too still. "I'll be over soon."

"Really? Are you sure? Aren't you jet-lagged?" Whoever this Laura woman was actually sounded concerned. Shinichi almost smiled at that.

"No, I'm fine," he replied. Better to drown in cases than drown in thoughts. "Give me ten minutes, and I'll get over there."

"Really? That's great," Laura answered. "See you then, Mr. Kudou."

"And I you, Miss Anderson." With that, Shinichi hung up.

The quietness threatened to devour him as he ransacked his new closet for a jacket and checked that his keys were in his pocket.

On a good day, Shinichi found the bustle of people to be comforting, reminding him of back in Tokyo, when the streets were packed and it was impossible to move in the subway. Other times, he felt positively overwhelmed by the sheer amount of rapid-fire English that seemed to drown him at all hours, struggling to keep up.

Right now, he was feeling it was more of one of those other days.

Shinichi forced on a smile as the disturbingly young barista standing across the counter from him flicked an eyebrow upwards and licked her lips suggestively. She appeared to be blind to the fact that there was a rather long line behind Shinichi that was none too pleased with her actions.

"One black coffee, please," he repeated.

The girl giggled, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger. Shinichi tried to remember if coffee was really worth this. "Aw, cute accent. I love Asian guys. Where are you from? Thailand?"

Insert highly disinterested laugh. "Japan, actually. Black coffee, please."

"I bet you want more than just black coffee, am I right?" The girl batted her eyelashes, leaning forward.

"Okay, no coffee for today, then," Shinichi muttered to himself in Japanese. He didn't even bother to flash a smile or give an explanation as he turned and pushed his way towards the door. Unfortunately, he didn't miss the, "Does that mean that you think I'm hot in Chinese? Or wait, was it Korean?" that followed him out.

A gust of wind hit him in the face as he pushed open the door. Shinichi shoved his bangs out of his face and walked quickly down the sidewalk, jamming his hands into his pockets. He didn't attract much attention in the huge crowd, but somehow he felt a little self-conscious.

When he reached a stoplight, Shinichi pulled his phone out of his pocket. He didn't have any new messages, save for a voicemail from Laura and a missed call from Captain Redwood.

He'd been in New York for two weeks, and Kuroba hadn't called him once.

New Year's in New York was nothing short of depressing.

Somehow he'd gotten roped into attending the NYPD's New Year's party, and Shinichi was less than thrilled. While he got along with his coworkers, he didn't particularly feel like socializing.

He was hiding in the shadows, half-concealed in the darkness of the bar as the rest of the NYPD stood talking and laughing and grinning with alcohol-induced giddiness whenever someone got caught under the mistletoe.

A vaguely painful memory resurfaced at that.

"Oooh, Kaito and Kudou-kun got caught under the mistletoe!" Aoko beamed widely, clapping and laughing borderline sadistically as Shinichi blanched and Kuroba turned steadily redder. "Kiss him, Kaito!" Cheering broke out among her, Ran, and Kazuha as well as Hattori, and Hakuba (the traitors).

Shinichi tried to back up, moving out from underneath the stupid plant hanging above the doorframe. "But –" he sputtered, flailing for an excuse. The expressions of matching (evil) amusement on his so-called friends' faces made his horrified stare turn into an irritated glare. "That's not – I hate you guys, seriously. Kuroba, we don't have to –"

A hand suddenly latched lightly onto his shoulder, and Shinichi glanced back to find Kuroba smiling awkwardly at him. "It's okay, Kudou," he murmured before he dropped a kiss on Shinichi's lips. It was soft and feathery, really just a brush of skin to skin, but Shinichi nearly fell over from shock as his cheeks flared red.

"Uh, what…" He gaped, searching for words, as Kuroba smirked crookedly and everyone else laughed. Almost unconsciously, Shinichi's fingertips flew to his lips, tracing the surface lightly, even as the laughter subsided and his friends began to talk about their New Year's resolutions.

He tried to forget the feeling of lips ghosting over his, whispery and gentle, as he cleared his throat and rejoined the conversation.

The thought of that kiss, something he'd just written off and forgotten at the time, made Shinichi grip his champagne glass a little tighter and lean his head back, hitting the wall behind him with a clunk. Christmas Eve in New York, and he couldn't stop thinking about the man he'd left behind in Tokyo. He couldn't decide if that was pathetic or heartbreaking. Maybe both.

A hand alighted on his arm, and Shinichi jerked to attention. Laura stood there, watching him with big, cornflower blue eyes. "Shinichi, are you all right?" she asked carefully.

Shinichi smiled faintly. Everything about his coworker seemed careful – the way she leaned a little too far forward and smiled the tiniest bit too wide and locked eyes with him in a manner he might have called soul-searching. It was clear that she had some kind of ulterior motive when it came to him.

Still, she was decently nice and very pretty, and Shinichi honestly wished he could love her. Unfortunately, every time she patted his shoulder or gave him a smile, all he could see was that she wasn't him – she wasn't Kuroba, and that meant she wasn't the one.

"I'm fine," he said aloud, gently lifting her hand off of his arm. "Just thinking about home."

"Your girlfriend?" Laura asked nonchalantly, tilting her head to one side so her hair fell over her shoulder. Shinichi didn't miss the probing lilt to her voice. He wondered if he should tell her that he was currently in love with a man. Probably not the best idea.

"I wish," he answered with a sigh. "It's not really working out."

Laura raised one eyebrow. "Is that why you came here to New York?"

"Well… part of the reason, yes," Shinichi replied. He didn't exactly want to go into detail, but Laura was eyeing him like she expected a full explanation.

He was saved when his phone went off. Shinichi dug his phone out of his pocket and read the name on the screen, expecting it to be his mom or Ran calling to wish him a happy New Year's.

His heart nearly stopped when he saw that that the caller was Kuroba Kaito.

Shinichi nearly dropped his champagne glass in his hurry to tell a bewildered Laura, "I'm sorry, I need to take this," and nearly sprint into the thankfully unoccupied bathroom.

As the bathroom door ground closed behind him, Shinichi hit the accept button and pressed the phone to his ear. "Kuroba?" His voice was desperate. He tried to ignore it.

There was a short pause, then Kuroba's voice – oh God it really was Kuroba holy shit – asked quietly in Japanese, "Is this Kudou?"

"Kuroba." Shinichi tried to breathe. He exhaled, long and hard, sweeping his bangs out of his face. "You're – you finally called me."

"Well, you didn't call me," Kuroba responded. Despite how bitter and pouting his words were, his tone was edged with a thousand apologies.

A full minute of silence passed, during which Shinichi pressed his back to the grimy wall of the bathroom and tried to convince himself that he wasn't dreaming.

"So how's New York?" Kuroba finally wondered.

Shinichi gripped his phone a little tighter. "It's… good."

Kuroba laughed and oh God it was like heaven in a sound. "What's with that pause?"

"Shut up, it's just… tiring over here. With the constant English and all that. And I miss everyone." Shinichi swallowed dryly "You, especially."

"Really?" Kuroba's voice was soft. Shinichi shut his eyes, imagining him sitting alone at his kitchen table, watching snow drift down with a cup of sugar-saturated coffee in his hand and his phone in the other. His chest ached.

"Really," he whispered.

A comfortable pause, then, "I miss you too, Kudou." Words laced with promises and longing.

Shinichi took them gladly, memorized them, tucked them away for later.

He cleared his throat, though, for now, and joked, "Well, I imagine it's hard to go without my beautiful face around for even a minute."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it." Kuroba laughed, and Shinichi marveled in the sound.

He'd thought he'd needed time to get rid of his feelings, to return to seeing Kuroba as a friend. Now he knew it was pointless.

There was no going back.

"So did you get the package?" Shinichi asked into the phone clenched between his shoulder and ear as he prodded the limp hand of the thirty-five-year-old kindergarten teacher currently lying on the asphalt.

He rubbed at his forehead, trying to wipe away the raindrops gathering at his temple as well as remove the clump of his bangs that the wind had plastered to his cheek. Rain in February was never fun, especially when investigating the latest corpse gracing Chatham Square.

A sigh rattled across the line. Shinichi could almost see Kuroba rolling his eyes and had to suppress a smile.

With a long-suffering sigh, Kuroba answered, "Yes, unfortunately. Why, exactly, did you send me what appears to be a lifetime supply of rice candy?"

Shinichi ran a finger underneath the kindergarten teacher's coat collar. Wet. So she'd been killed after the rain had started, seeing as she'd flipped up her collar to protect against the wind and rain. That meant that it had definitely been her sister's husband, with whom she'd been cheating, from the look of her wallet photos.

He shook droplets out water out of his bangs and stood up, adjusting his phone against his ear. "Because I found a Japanese market here, and I wanted to see what you thought of the rice candy."

"Um, it's… citrusy? I guess? It tastes like rice candy, Kudou. Although…" Kuroba paused, and Shinichi could hear his hesitation. "I don't know, it just tastes… different. Different from the rice candy we have back here, I mean."

"You taste it too?"

"I do, but… I don't know, I think it must be psychological or something."

"I could see that." Shinichi tugged off his gloves and stowed them in his pocket. "I was just wondering what you thought."

"And now you know." The smile was audible in Kuroba's voice. "Well, I'm going to go eat as much strange-tasting rice candy as possible."

"Really? I'll send you some more then.

"Wow, thank you ever so much."

"You're welcome. Call you tomorrow?"

"Of course."

Tucking his phone into his pocket, Shinichi beckoned Captain Redwood over, explaining his deduction in low tones. As the captain nodded in satisfaction and turned, zeroing in on the rapidly-blinking husband of the victim's sister, Shinichi started off back to his apartment.

As he walked, he reached into his pocket and extracted a colorful box marked Botan Rice Candy. Raindrops hit it and streaked the ink in runny stripes, and Shinichi sighed as he opened the box and pulled out one piece of rice candy. It sat heavily in his palm.

At least he could say he had given Kuroba a Valentine's Day present.

Aoko clanked about in the kitchen, wiping down the counter with a damp rag. She glanced over her shoulder, at where Kaito was sitting on the couch. "Hey, Kaito, aren't you going to help me here? I mean, I made you dinner, and you're still making me clean up."

"No, I think you've got it, Aoko," he waved her off, smirking when Aoko puffed out her cheeks and put her hands on her hips.

Grumbling, Aoko tossed the rag into the sink and stalked over to him. "What are you even doing, Kaito?" she snapped, glaring down at her childhood friend.

Kaito blinked up at her, hands closing around something small and brightly colored in his lap. "Nothing, really."

Raising her eyebrow in a way that meant Not buying that for a second, Aoko reached over and snatched the object out of his hands, despite his protests. Her eyes widened as she examined the item.

It was a box of rice candy, half-full.

"Why are you sitting here holding a box of rice candy?" she asked, puzzled. Kaito had never shown any sort of affinity for rice candy before now – he'd always complained that he didn't like the lemon-orange flavor. She eyed him cautiously. "What's going on?"

Kaito braced his face with his hand. "Kudou send it from New York," he explained quietly, and Aoko's throat closed in understanding.

Wordlessly, she pressed the box back into his hands and went back into the kitchen.

"What's the weather like over there?"

"Are we seriously talking about the weather?"

"Hey, I miss home, you know. I just want to know. Here in New York, it's dreary and cold. Also, dead bodies."

"There were dead bodies back here when you still were here."

"I know. But still."

"Well, at least you know."

"So. Weather."

"Cold."

"Descriptive."

"I know."

"So where are you right now? What are you up to?"

"I'm at home right now, eating strange rice candy."

"Really? You're actually eating it?"

"Mmhm. It's kind of weird, really – it tastes different, but it sort of makes me… oh, never mind."

"What? What were you going to say?"

"Well – it makes me sort of feel like you're here. Like we've got something in common. I don't know, it makes me feel… closer to you. It's stupid, I know."

"…"

"Kudou? Are you there?"

"I'll send you more rice candy."

The woman standing behind the cash register blinked at him. "Ah, Kudou-san, you're back again?" she said in Japanese.

"Mmhm," the now-familiar young man replied, shutting the door behind him. "The usual, please."

"Right," the store clerk nodded, reaching underneath the counter to pull out a cardboard box filled with boxes of rice candy. She watched as the man reached for his wallet and began to count out bills. "If you don't mind me asking, Kudou-san, what do you do with all of this rice candy? Do you eat all of it?"

The man shook his head as he handed her the stack of bills. "Not all of it. I send some back home."

She slanted her head at him in confusion, counting out the bills carefully. "To… Japan?"

"Yes." He smiled awkwardly as she raised her eyebrows at him, the unspoken question of why hanging in the air. "It's kind of a long story."

"I see." The store clerk smiled as she slid the box across the counter to him. "Well, see you next week, Kudou-san."

He nodded, hefting the box into his arms. "See you later."

Leaning her face onto her hand, the store clerk watched as the young man pushed the door open with his foot and exited her store. She wondered who was worth so many pounds of rice candy.

Humming softly, she went back to reorganizing stock.

Captain Redwood clapped Shinichi hard on the shoulder, laughing heartily. "Well, Kudou, it's been an honor working with you these past six months," he declared, and Shinichi smiled as the rest of the department cheered.

"Thank you, Captain."

The captain eyed him slyly. "Although I imagine that you're excited to get back home. Got a girl back there, don't you?" he asked, elbowing Shinichi lightly in the side.

Shinichi shook his head, smiling awkwardly. "Oh, no. Nothing like that," he laughed, waving a hand dismissively.

"Oh, don't think we haven't noticed," interjected one of the officers. "We always see you on the phone at crime scenes and around headquarters. Who else could you be talking to all the time?"

"Er…" Shinichi shook his head. "Not a girl. Really."

"Whatever you say, man," called another one of the officers, and Shinichi smiled as talk resumed. He turned to find someone to talk to and found himself face to face with Laura.

"Oh, hi," he managed, startled.

Laura nodded. "Well, it's your last night in New York. I'll miss you a lot, Shinichi." Her eyes searched his face, skittering over his eyes frantically. "Please…"

Shinichi clapped her on the shoulder, smiling kindly. "Thank you for everything, Laura. You've been a great friend these months."

She watched helplessly as he squeezed her shoulder and walked away, her hand lifting to press against where he had touched her.

Shinichi's hands were shaking as he stepped out into the airport. The sight of kanji everywhere and the sound of Japanese everywhere overwhelmed him for a second, and he stood there without moving, inhaling it all. It was good to be back.

"Kudou!"

His heart stopped. Time froze.

In slow motion, Shinichi looked to his left, and there was Kuroba, messy hair and indigo eyes and everything he'd thought he could abandon by leaving flared brighter than ever in his chest. His throat locked.

"Kuroba," he somehow managed, and then Kuroba was hurtling towards him, real and beautiful and not a voice on the phone, and there were lips on his, soft and warm and tasting unexpectedly citrusy in a way that Shinichi couldn't quite place.

"Don't ever leave again," Kuroba whispered, demanded.

Shinichi suddenly realized that it was the taste of strange rice candy.

I don't exactly know how the rice candy got involved. It just... did.

To any New Yorkers - please don't hate me for the minor OCs I inserted! I don't think female teenage baristas are that, um, uncultured. In fact, they're probably cooler than I am.

Anyway... yeah, that's it for now. Hope you enjoyed! If you did, drop me a review, k?

I love you all, darlings! - Luna