Yeah... so this is all I have written so far. I have a feeling that this fic is probably going to die, but, um... enjoy it while it lasts? - Luna

Runs in the Family | Chapter Two

Shinichi was in the middle of rereading A Scandal in Bohemia for the fifty-eighth time when the doorbell rang, echoing loudly throughout the empty house.

Scowling, he looked up from his book. Ever since he'd quietly resigned a week ago, to Inspector Megure's despair and a small, private party thrown by Satou and Takagi, he hadn't had any visitors, other than his parents and Ran, and none of them used the doorbell.

Rising from his spot on the sofa, Shinichi methodically placed a bookmark in his book and walked to the door. He tried to ignore the way his hand shook uncontrollably as he reached for the doorknob.

He opened the door, polite what can I do for you frown stuck firmly in place, but ended up blinking in astonishment at the well-dressed, sunglasses-wearing man standing on his doormat.

Somewhere in the hazy part of his memory that encompassed the first few days after he'd been operated on in the hospital, Shinichi recognized the man. He was the one Shinichi had evidently saved, right? The – the yakuza boss, if memory served. Why was he here, Shinichi wondered? He hadn't bothered trying to turn the man in, seeing no real reason to, and he didn't think he'd offended the man particularly the last time they'd met.

Swallowing quickly – and not missing the way the man's gaze flickered down to his throat – Shinichi leaned against the doorframe. "What can I do for you?"

The man smirked, removing his sunglasses one-handed. He had startlingly bright eyes, Shinichi noted absently, eyes like – like a pair of sapphires or lakes or something equally poetic. "For fear of sounding cliché, I'll refrain from saying, 'It's more about what I can do for you,' and just ask if I can come in."

Shinichi briefly weighed the consequences of allowing a yakuza boss into his house versus those of not allowing a yakuza boss into his house and promptly decided on the former. He pushed the door open wider in silent invitation.

Smile growing, the man nodded and stepped a little closer. "Thank you, Kudou."

Trying hard not to react to the use of his name – so the man had done his research, had he? – Shinichi smiled back as steadily as he could manage. "No trouble at all."

He felt, strangely enough, as if he had made a terrible decision when the man beamed, looking several kinds of gorgeous, and brushed past Shinichi into the house.

"I imagine you're wondering why I'm here," Kaito began, settling into the worn leather armchair he was occupying as he glanced around the old, well-furnished library Shinichi had led him into. He felt an odd, unexpected warmth kindle in his chest at the sight of the rows upon rows of carefully preserved books, encyclopedias and novels alike wedged into the curved shelves. Something about this room felt personal, almost intimate in its own way, and the thought that he was being allowed a glimpse at something private was strangely satisfying, even though technically Shinichi was almost a perfect stranger.

From where he was setting down a cup of tea at Kaito's elbow, Shinichi nodded, right eyebrow quirked. "You're not wrong." The look on his face suggested he had more to say, but he apparently didn't think it wise to mouth off in front of a yakuza boss.

Kaito couldn't hide his incredulous grin. "You've saved my life. There's no need to act as if I'm about to call my men in and kill you if you say the wrong thing, Kudou. I didn't even bring any men with me." Aoko had been furious when he'd announced he was going to a mystery location without bringing any bodyguards, and she would be even more furious to learn who he was visiting. He tried not to think about it.

"Oh, how absolutely noble of you," Shinichi muttered, rolling his eyes sardonically as he stalked over to another armchair, and God, he was exquisite. How was he even real? It was like someone had poured every one of Kaito's types – dark-haired, intelligent, sarcastic, able to handle a gun – into a cake pan and baked them into Kudou Shinichi.

"Anyway." Kaito cleared his throat, cataloguing the thought for later perusal. He took a sip of the tea – it was brewed strong enough to leave a lingering taste but not enough to be bitter. Quite like Shinichi himself, actually. "I don't know if you've done any research on me, but if you haven't, I'm Kuroba Kaito from the Kuroba family stationed in Ekoda."

"Oh." Shinichi's eyebrows rose. "I think – are you the family head who legitimized all the businesses? The radio station and the movie theaters and the record companies, I mean?"

"So you've heard of me." Kaito took a moment to preen.

"I'm not surprised people were trying to kill you," snorted Shinichi. "I doubt all the other clans are pleased that you've gone clean. Especially since the Kuroba group controls Haidou, Beika, and Ekoda."

"How astute of you," Kaito beamed at him, and Shinichi sighed.

"I was an assistant inspector before all of this, if you recall."

His words hit Kaito like an I-beam. Kaito sank back in his chair, setting his cup back down as he met Shinichi's gaze. "Kudou –"

Unexpectedly, Shinichi's expression turned stormy. He held up a hand to cut Kaito off. "I don't need your pity," he said sternly, scowling darkly, and Kaito hurried to shake his head.

"That isn't it, really. I just…" He had to pause. "I just feel responsible for what happened. You were injured and had to give up my dream because of – because of me, after all. So if there's any way I could possible begin to repay –"

"First of all, there's no tried about it," Shinichi interjected. "I didn't try to save you; I did save you. And second, what happened to me is nobody's fault but the shooter's. Who you are is insignificant – I didn't save you because I expected to be rewarded for it." He ran a hand through his hair irritably. "I mean, is a reason necessary? I don't know why you would kill someone, but as for saving someone, a logical mind isn't needed, right? So, Kuroba," he jabbed at finger in Kaito's direction, "I don't want your repayment."

For a second, the only thing Kaito fully registered was wow, Shinichi looked magnificent panting a little and wearing an angry flush, and then Shinichi's words actually set in and he blinked.

"You don't…?"

"No, I don't want any of your barely-clean money," Shinichi finished, expression rather spectacularly flat. "Even if you've technically gone legal, you're still considered yakuza, after all. It's generous of you to offer, of course, but I really don't want compensation." He smiled faintly, glancing down at his visibly shaking hand. "All I really want is my arm back, but if it was the price I have to pay for your life, I'd gladly give my other arm."

Kaito stared at him for a long, long minute, and then, before he could consider the implications of what he was saying, he blurted out, "Come work for me."

Shinichi's eyebrows leaped up his forehead. "What?"

"Come to the Ekoda headquarters," Kaito heard himself offering. "You can join the family."

Scandalized, Shinichi stammered, "I'm not going to join a yakuza clan, are you insane –"

"We have some of the best doctors in Japan. Muscle specialists and neurologists." They didn't, but they'd get them. Kaito would hire them himself. "We can try to help you regain control of your arm."

Positively spluttering, pretty face creased into something akin to bewilderment, Shinichi reminded him, "Kuroba, there's a ninety-eight percent chance that –"

"What I'm hearing is that there's a two percent chance that we'll succeed. And that's good enough for me." Taking a last sip of his tea, Kaito rose to his feet. "Please. At least drop by the headquarters." Digging through his suit pocket, he extracted an ostentatious gold-plated pen Hattori had given him as a joke (though he had somehow ended up using it anyway). Before Shinichi could protest, Kaito picked up his right hand, ignoring the tremors that wracked the fingertips and shook the delicate wrist, and gently wrote the family's address on his palm. The dark ink contrasted alluringly with Shinichi's pale, pale skin, and Kaito reveled in the warmth that Shinichi gave off for perhaps a moment too long.

"Consider it," he told Shinichi as their eyes met, Kaito's gaze hopeful and Shinichi's dubious, and he couldn't help himself as he lifted Shinichi's hand to press a kiss to his knuckles. Shinichi's eyes widened, luminous, and Kaito let himself believe the illusion that his hand stopped quivering for just a second.

"I will," Shinichi murmured, never breaking eye contact, and Kaito let go of his hand to smile down at him before he walked himself out. He could only hope Shinichi would actually come to the headquarters, hope as desperately as he dared.

Four days later, Shinichi showed up in front of the sprawling traditional Japanese home that the Kuroba family used as headquarters, uncomfortable and self-conscious as he rang the doorbell on the gate.

Shinichi had agonized over his decision for as long as he could. On one hand, he really didn't want to get involved in anything that had yakuza ties, but on the other, he still – well, he still wanted to regain full use of his arm, and this was possibly his best option.

(Also, you know, Kaito was extremely good-looking, but obviously that hadn't factored into his decision at all. At all.)

A few seconds after he rang the doorbell, Shinichi was greeted by several antagonistic men in suits and a shrieking, binder-waving girl who was somehow more terrifying than the men in suits, especially when she yelled, "Oh my God, Kaito, you actually invited the goddamn police inspector to our place how stupid could you get I told you going to see him was a bad idea."

"Actually, I was an assistant inspector, and now I'm retired," Shinichi informed her when she paused for breath and stopped whacking him on the head with her binder. "I don't suppose it makes any difference?"

The girl – who was actually quite pretty when she wasn't attacking poor unsuspecting ex-detectives with binders – blinked at him, mouth falling open as she appeared to realize something. The tension bled from her shoulders, leaving her sagging against the gate.

"Shit," she murmured in a way that made Shinichi think he wasn't supposed to be hearing what she was saying. "Kaito always likes the - the irritating, sarcastic ones."

"Excuse me?" Shinichi blinked, angling his head at her when she glanced back at him.

She shook her head at him. Maybe it was just Shinichi, but she seemed to be doing it with a strange sort of pity. "I'm so sorry, you poor boy. You're exactly his type," she sighed, patting him on the shoulder, and Shinichi stared in complete bewilderment.

But just as he was about to ask what she was talking about, there was a commotion at the front door. Kaito, looking strangely adorable and unlike himself in a pair of loose flannel pants and a t-shirt, shoved his way through the group of suit-clad men huddled around the entrance (or rather, he tried to shove, likely for theatricality, but the men had respectfully parted upon seeing him, so the effect was mainly lost). "What the hell's going on, you –"

The words died on his tongue as he caught sight of Shinichi.

There was an awkward silence. Shinichi waved, tentatively.

A smile broke out across Kaito's face. "Kudou, you actually came?" He hurried to the gate, still beaming, but the grin fell off his face when the girl smacked him solidly in the face with her binder.

"Aoko! Ow!" Kaito gasped, and Aoko scowled.

"You actually invited him to our place? A civilian?" she growled, and Kaito cleared his throat, raking a handful of his hair away from his face. It looked soft and unstyled, Shinichi thought. Just the right texture to run his fingers through.

…Okay, so maybe Shinichi shouldn't have been thinking about that right now. He willed himself to stop.

Meanwhile, Kaito – big bad yakuza boss Kaito – was cowering a bit under Aoko's glare (which was admittedly rather frightening, so Shinichi couldn't blame him). "I… possibly," he answered.

"He did," Shinichi confirmed.

Aoko hit Kaito again (Kaito made an undignified sound) before huffing and throwing her hands up in the air. It was rather impressive, considering she was still holding her overstuffed binder. "Ugh, fine. At least now we know why you were sulking while trying to convince all of us that you weren't not."

Affronted, Kaito began, "I was not –"

"You know what canceling your very important meeting with Oikawa from the Toyama group is? Sulking. You know what claiming that you're 'not hungry' at every meal is? Sulking. You know what hiding in your room and not leaving the house is? Sulking." Aoko jabbed him in the chest at the end of each sentence before shaking her head. "You're incorrigible when you're smitten."

With that, she stormed past the two of them, yelling, "Nothing to see here, Kaito's just being a lovesick preteen girl," at the other yakuza. They all exchanged questioning glances before cautiously going back into the house.

Once the last man had gone back in, Shinichi turned to lift his eyebrows at Kaito. "Sulking?" He didn't dare ask about the "you're his type" or the "smitten" or the "lovesick preteen girl." He didn't know what kind of response he would get, and he didn't quite want to witness Kaito laughing it off. Then he'd have to admit that the strange attraction he felt towards the man was entirely one-sided, and despite generally being realistic almost to the point of pessimism, Shinichi wanted to let himself hold onto hope.

Shuffling his feet, Kaito actually looked abashed. There were the beginnings of a blush on his cheeks. "Yes, well. Maybe by some definitions I was sulking, but. I mean."

They stood in a strangely companionable silence for a few more seconds before Shinichi gestured at the house. "Where are your manners, Kuroba?" he berated, as Kaito started in surprise. "Aren't you going to show me around?" He lifted his eyebrows at the frankly gigantic house. "I mean, it's a pretty tiny place, but all the same."

Kaito blinked at him for a moment before he smirked. "Of course, darling," he almost purred, and Shinichi found himself flushing as Kaito sashayed back through the gate, looking for the world like a ridiculous, pajama-wearing twenty-six year old and nothing like a jaded yakuza boss.

Smiling a little to himself, Shinichi decided he preferred that ridiculous twenty-six year old much more.