So sorry that this is so late! I've gotten incredibly busy with real life, so if updates start getting slower, it's because of that.

Anyway, this fic (as you can tell from the summary) is a terribly rushed Shinichi x android!Kaito fic. Originally it was going to be a fluffy, fun fic, but then it sort of turned into this angsty, weird sort of... thing. I'm pretty unhappy with how this ended up, if I'm being honest, but... yeah.

Warnings include shounen-ai, grammar mistakes / general errors, some Ex Machina-esque "What makes a human? Are androids subhuman?" sort of moral questions, very dodgy science because I don't know how robots work and this is fan fiction, cynical!Shinichi being a lonely young master because that's my favorite kind of Shinichi, android!Kaito being self-deprecating and angsty, etc. This fic sort of reminds me of Life in Color, if you've read that. Only worse and with robots.

Wow, long notes. Anyway, hope you enjoy! - Luna

i'll use you as a makeshift gauge
of how much to give and how much to take
i'll use you as a warning sign
that if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind.

– "i found"by amber run

The first thing KA-170 processes when he opens his optical receptors is that his purchaser is beautiful, in every sense of the word. He has dark hair (#3d2d20, his processor supplies) and deeply red lips (#874a4a) and clear eyes of an indistinguishably bright hue (unable to find exact match, his processor tells him with a hum of failure). He is a pleasant height and weight, possibly describable as "willowy" or "slender," though KA-170 detects well-toned musculature along his upper arms, abdomen, and thighs. He looks about twenty-two or so, possibly a little older or younger. Overall, he is remarkably aesthetically pleasing by any and every beauty standard.

He is also wearing pajama pants printed with magnifying glasses and a worn t-shirt and looks faintly annoyed.

"I can't believe Ran actually ordered me a damn bot," he mumbles as he putters around the room, which, upon further inspection, appears to be a library, judging from the volumes lining the walls. "Where's the stupid manual? I've got to turn the –"

"Hello," KA-170 vocalizes, testing. He frowns when his purchaser jumps in shock and actually falls over. Several of his programs, designed to respond to inadvertently harming his purchaser, are set into motion, instructing him to begin reparations. "It was not my intent to scare you. Please accept an apology."

His purchaser, collecting himself off the ground, tries to look dignified, or so KA-170 assumes from the way he draws his shoulders upwards and settles his expression. "Uh, sure, but it's really okay. It's my own fault."

"Oh," KA-170 responds after a moment, after blinking quickly through several if-then statements. There is no coded response to that, as most purchasers are not – forgiving of android mistakes.

He waits for his purchaser to say something, give a command, but the man has returned to looking around. When he finds a slim manual, he makes a pleased sound and approaches KA-170.

KA-170 experiences a moment of concern, but his default programming does not allow him to disobey his purchaser, so he stands still.

He's not expecting his purchaser to reach for the programming panel at the small of his back, concealed underneath a layer of synthetic skin. KA-170 freezes when warm fingers (36 °C) work at the panel and push at the keypad.

The man mumbles something under his breath and moves to crouch behind him to get a better look at the panel. KA-170 holds still, feeling strangely uncomfortable with the situation.

After a few moments of tapping and murmuring, KA-170 is suddenly aware of his system shutting down. The last thing he sees is his purchaser flitting back into view with a mildly concerned look on his face.

When KA-170 opens his optical receptors for the second time, he has... no procedures. No programs. No settings. His memory is empty, free of commands.

He blinks once, then twice. Then again. He can blink as many times as he wants, instead of four times a minute as he was programmed. It's oddly freeing.

"Sorry about that," says a voice from behind him, and KA-170 turns to see his purchaser sitting in an armchair, flipping through a book. "I had to remove your pre-installed programming before I felt comfortable." KA-170's eyebrows furrow – from what he knows, androids have never been on the best of terms with humans, and there are several documented cases of androids with blanked-out memories attacking and even killing their purchasers. By all accounts, the man should be terrified. How could he be sure KA-170 wouldn't throttle him once free of the boundaries created by his programming?

The man seems to pick up on KA-170's thoughts and smiles, self-deprecating. "I know you're wondering why I'd do that, but it's just because – well, I mean, I know androids are supposed to serve humans and all, but it still just feels too much like slavery for me to live with it."

Unexpectedly, KA-170 feels a wave of – something. Something not entirely unlike what he imagines a warm bath would feel like. He resolves to look up what it could be.

"Well," his purchaser says after a moment, "my name's Kudou Shinichi."

Kudou Shinichi, KA-170 immediately repeats internally, and wonders what kanji make up the name. "I am KA-170."

Shinichi gazes at KA-170 with eyebrows raised. "That's kind of a sad name, isn't it?" He squints down at the manual sitting on the table beside him. "Uh, how about we call you... Kaito?" When KA-170 looks at him quizzical, he shrugs, a little defensive. "Don't look at me like that. 'KA-170' sort of looks like 'Kaito' written in romaji."

KA-170 blinks a few times, and Shinichi looks abashed, but the way Shinichi ducks his head, almost imperceptibly, is enough to make KA-170 immediately change his name to "Kaito" in his database.

Kudou Shinichi, Kaito discovers, did not want to buy Kaito.

"It wasn't my idea," Shinichi is grumbling as he sips at a cup of lukewarm black coffee and runs a hand through his hair. The two of them have moved to the kitchen, and, after a moment of awkward posturing while Shinichi tried to offer Kaito food and then realized Kaito didn't really eat, are now sitting at Shinichi's kitchen table. "Ran's the one who ordered you, Kaito. Apparently I can't be trusted with my own health and need a personal android."

Kaito saves Ran in one corner of his database. He wonders if the name is important, considering it's due to "Ran" that he's become Shinichi's. "What do you do for a living?"

"Private detective," Shinichi answers, draining the last of his coffee. "I work with the police a lot, though. Sort of as a consultant."

"I see," Kaito replies. Out of curiosity, he launches a web search for "Kudou Shinichi" and is surprised to find several thousand pages of results, all calling Shinichi various iterations of "modern day Holmes" and "savior of the metropolitan police force." There are several prominent fan pages dedicated to various parts of his anatomy as well, most notably his face and… hip… area. Flicking through them, Kaito feels vaguely warm, all of a sudden. However, his fans aren't malfunctioning and his system appears to be functioning adequately, so he doesn't know what could be wrong.

"You're pretty famous, though," is all Kaito says aloud, though, as he returns to browsing the top results. "You've got a lot of articles written about you." Some of them are very impressive, too. Kaito pauses to download one that talks about Shinichi solving a twenty-year-old cold case, telling himself it's because he wants to get to know his purchaser better and not because he finds the accompanying photo of Shinichi studying a body with incredible intensity a little captivating.

Openmouthed, Shinichi stares at him for a second before he sighs with resignation, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I forgot you're hooked up to the internet." He shuts his eyes. "You're going to find pictures of me when I was seventeen. Oh God."

"I'm sure you were just as lovely at seventeen as you are now," Kaito says honestly, feeling the corners of his mouth turning upwards without his consent, and Shinichi flushes a little and scowls at him – adorable, Kaito's processor whispers at him before Kaito can ward it off.

"You've been activated for less than a day. Don't get cocky," Shinichi mumbles and fiddles with his mug for a little. Kaito can't help but smile at him. Sure, he hasn't been activated for long (one hour, forty-eight minutes, and twelve seconds) but he can already tell that he likes Shinichi a lot.

As it turns out, Shinichi doesn't have any particular plans for Kaito. When Kaito follows him back to the library, looking lost, Shinichi just stares at him for a second before he sort of shrugs. "I… don't really have anything for you to do in here," he admits, glancing around the huge room with a slightly panicked expression. "You can do whatever you want, I guess. I mean, there's not really much to do around here, but…" He trails off, contemplative, before he asks, "Is there anything you want to do?"

Kaito smiles benignly at him. "I just don't want to leave you," he replies earnestly.

Shinichi's eyes widen as he blushes and flails the slightest bit. Kaito can't help but think it's the cutest thing he's ever witnessed. "Wh – oh my God, did Ran order me a – a pleasurebot or something?" Shinichi chokes out, and Kaito frowns, scandalized.

"I'm not a pleasurebot," he tells Shinichi, a bit offended. It's not that he looks down on pleasurebots – they're the same as him, programmed to perform, ah, specific tasks, and he can't shame them for it – but he's a little annoyed that Shinichi thinks Kaito would have to be a robot designed specifically to flatter and seduce its purchaser in order to want to stay by his side. It almost sounds as if Shinichi doesn't think highly of himself, doesn't think he's beautiful and intelligent and gentle, and that's the worst, least true thing Kaito could imagine. "I was a Kitchen Assistant 170, or KA-170. I specialized in cooking and could perform other basic housekeeping responsibilities. But my former designation, whatever it was, is insignificant, considering that you erased all my preinstalled programming."

"Oh, right." Shinichi exhales slowly, the color fading from his cheeks. He mutters something under his breath – Kaito increases the sensitivity of his microphones and picks up "it's not my fault I got confused, they picked a really attractive exterior for an everyday housekeeping android" – before scanning the room again. "Well, uh… I mean, I'm just going to be here working on cases and doing some research, so I guess you can stay if you want, but won't you get bored?"

"Not if I'm with you," Kaito answers, and Shinichi's breath hitches, but he doesn't say anything except, "Are you sure I erased every program you've got? Did I miss some kind of flattery coding?"

"You didn't," Kaito replies warmly as he curls up on the armchair opposite the one Shinichi had sat in earlier, and Shinichi shakes his head and settles in without another word.

Kaito takes the opportunity to read through a few more articles. The more he reads, the more he understands just how incredible Shinichi is. Kaito's initial estimation of Shinichi's age was slightly off – he's actually just a little under twenty-one and has been solving cases since he was sixteen, only a scant four, five years, but he's world-renowned for his deductions. If a New York Times story from last year is to be trusted, Shinichi had been invited over to assist the NYPD and LAPD in various transatlantic cases. He's unbelievably talented.

But there's still something sad about the whole situation, Kaito realizes while scanning his thirty-sixth webpage. For all his prestige and intelligence and fame, Kaito hasn't seen Shinichi interact with a single other human. And sure, Kaito's only been activated for about two hours or so and maybe those two hours aren't indicative of anything, but Kaito thinks someone so sought after would receive a few more phone calls, maybe a few texts within the space of two hours. Shinichi hasn't gotten either, and he hasn't sent anything, either. He's talked to Kaito, yes, but he's only mentioned one friend ("Ran") and he has the quiet disposition of someone used to being alone.

Shinichi has to be lonely. He has to.

Kaito decides right then and there that he's going to fix that. Even if he's no longer programmed to fix all of his purchaser's problems, he still wants to help Shinichi, for reasons he doesn't quite understand. He must be defective, or maybe Shinichi's erasure of all of his programs did something to his system, but Kaito thinks he doesn't really mind it.

When Shinichi emerges from the library after far too long without a break, Kaito is in the kitchen, stirring at the curry he managed to make out of the rather pathetic contents of Shinichi's refrigerator. He's beginning to see why whoever Ran is wanted to make sure Shinichi had someone to take care of him, even if that someone was just a run-of-the-mill housekeeping android.

Pausing in the doorframe, Shinichi takes a moment to gape, wide-eyed, as Kaito serenely ladles curry onto a plate of rice and sets it on the counter. "I wasn't aware I had ingredients for curry in the house." He eyes the large pot on the stove. "Or a pot, for that matter."

"Well, you did," Kaito tells him, grinning a little at the dumfounded look on Shinichi's face. It's amusing, almost, that Shinichi, who is by all accounts a certifiable genius, is so impressed by some improvisation in the kitchen. Granted, the curry powder Kaito used is about a year out of date and he's not entirely sure the carrots aren't cucumbers that have somehow mutated orange, but still. It's a tiny occurrence in comparison to the serial killings and unsolvable cases Shinichi has faced.

"I thought I told you that you didn't need to do any of the housekeeping," Shinichi comments, but he's edging towards the plate Kaito set out anyway. "I don't want you to feel like you're, I don't know, indebted to me or something. You should be your own person."

That – actually startles Kaito. In this day and age, nobody thinks of androids as anything but what they are – robots built to serve under humans, forever subservient and bound to their masters' whims. Nobody thinks of androids as people; the farthest someone might go is calling androids servants, maybe, and that's practically saintly. It's because of the severity of that "androids aren't people" mentality that deprogrammed androids usually tend to attack the nearest human, on principle. Calling a robot a person is unheard of, in every sense of the word.

"Kaito?" Shinichi is eyeing Kaito with concern, and Kaito realizes that he's been quiet for too long.

"Sorry," he hurries to assure Shinichi, smiling when Shinichi's eyes just narrow farther. "Don't worry about me feeling obligated or anything – I wanted to do it. And this isn't even that great." He pushes the plate at Shinichi, turning to dig around for a spoon. "You deserve so much more, Shinichi."

When Kaito looks back at Shinichi, extending a spoon towards him, Shinichi is staring hard down at the plate. Kaito detects slight hints of pink rising along the tips of his ears and suppresses a grin.

"Thanks," Shinichi murmurs as he takes the spoon from Kaito, and Kaito is struck by the nonsensical urge to reach out and ruffle his hair, just to gauge its softness and reaffirm its color. It's a thought that makes absolutely no sense, considering Kaito can tell the exact degree of flexibility of every single hair on Shinichi's head and decide its overall hue within seconds, but he still wants to do it with his own hands.

Instead, he contents himself with watching Shinichi eat the curry rice and listening to Shinichi's sounds of enjoyment (which are surprisingly suggestive and make Kaito's internal temperature lift a degree or two, uncomfortably enough). He decides he's going to have to get much better ingredients, if only to see how Shinichi reacts to properly prepared food (and also because he hadn't been lying earlier; Shinichi deserves so, so much more than what he has).

A week or so later, Kaito is drawn from his hibernation state by the sound of something heavy hitting the ground a few rooms over, where Shinichi's bedroom is. Alarmed, Kaito rises from the chair he was perched on and hurries down the hallway, uncaring of how heavy his footfalls are when he doesn't monitor them. He's more worried about Shinichi. What could have happened?

The door to Shinichi's room is firmly shut, but unlocked. Kaito pushes it open, hesitant, and sticks his head inside. Shinichi is sitting upright in bed, blankets spilling crookedly across his lap and skin damp with sweat, and his wide-eyed, nervous gaze snaps to Kaito's face the moment Kaito sets one tentative foot inside his room.

"I, ah." Kaito clears his throat needlessly. Shinichi's chest rises and falls, too quickly to be healthy, and Kaito discreetly checks his pulse to find his heartrate is skyrocketing, far above healthy at 120 bpm. "I – heard something."

Shinichi stares at him for a second longer before his eyes dip pointedly at the ground. Kaito tears his attention away from Shinichi to see the heavy, hand-tooled ceramic lamp lying in pieces on the ground. If memory serves, the vase used to take up residence on Shinichi's bedside table.

"I knocked it off the table," Shinichi explains, unnecessarily. His voice is pitched low and rough and sleepy, and it cracks between syllables like a skipping record. "I had a – a bad dream."

"Oh." Kaito doesn't know how to respond. He sort of hovers there, halfway through the doorway, while Shinichi glances away, turning his face so all Kaito can see of him is his right cheek and the tapering, elegant line of his jaw.

Finally, Kaito crosses the floorboards to stand beside Shinichi's bed. "Do you want to talk about it?" he inquires, lowering the volume of his voice until it's barely audible.

There's silence. Shinichi doesn't speak for a long, long moment (twenty-one and a half seconds) before he exhales and sort of – slumps. "I – I dreamed that I was – there was a burning house, and I was inside. And a – one of the people who I caught in the past was there."

Oh, Kaito thinks. Being stuck in a burning house with a murderer – of course that's terrifying.

So he's confused when Shinichi's face does a strange thing – sort of crumples in on itself – as he continues, "And I wanted – I wanted so much to save them, keep them from – from taking another life, even if it was their own, but I – I couldn't, I was powerless, and they – they." He breaks off, now, closing his eyes forcefully, and Kaito is yet again left amazed and bewildered, because Shinichi – Shinichi wanted to save a murderer, wanted so badly to save just one more life that he's ruined because of it. If that isn't incredible, Kaito doesn't know what is.

Before he can stop himself, Kaito sinks to his knees and gathers Shinichi in his arm. The angle would be agonizing if Kaito had joints that felt pain, knees that protested being pressed to hard wooden floorboards, but he doesn't and therefore can focus wholly on the soft gasp Shinichi makes.

"I'm sorry. You deserve so much more," Kaito murmurs into the thin cotton blend of Shinichi's shirt, feeling as if he's simultaneously saying too much and too little, but Shinichi – Shinichi cups a hand around the back of Kaito's neck and sighs, his breath warm as it ruffles Kaito's hair, and Kaito thinks he might be in love, if that's possible for someone made entirely of wiring and bits of metal.

He feels Shinichi's thumb trace circles along the synthetic skin at the top of his sculpted vertebrae and knows it's possible.

Kaito meets Ran about four (blissful, happy) weeks after he's been activated.

He opens the front door after a trip to the supermarket, laden down with bags full of ingredients for sukiyaki because sukiyaki is Shinichi's favorite, when he notices a pair of high-heeled sandals sitting innocently at the edge of the genkan. Kaito counts the guest slippers and finds one pair is missing.

"Shinichi?" he calls as he toes off his own understated canvas sneakers and pads into the kitchen, unloading bags onto the granite countertop. There's no one in the kitchen, but if Kaito turns up the sensitivity on his microphones, he can pick up the faintest murmur of conversation coming from the library – unsurprising, considering how much time Shinichi spends there.

Wondering who could be visiting, Kaito wanders over to the library. The heavy double doors are ajar, and Kaito raps on one before he pulls it open. "Shinichi, is there…?" He trails off when Shinichi, heartstoppingly (if Kaito had a heart) attractive in an oxford and pressed jeans, and a girl, right about Shinichi's age, turns to the door in the same heartbeat.

The girl is breathtakingly pretty, Kaito realizes with a hint of trepidation. She has large, round eyes, doelike with their long, thick eyelashes, long, flowing hair like dark spun silk, and a figure that even Kaito can admit measures up to model standards. And the way Shinichi smiles at her –

"I knew I picked the best-looking model. See, I have good ideas," the girl remarks, elbowing Shinichi in the side, and Shinichi looks – happy, definitely. A little aggravated, but overall, fond and amused.

"You really don't, Ran," he tells her, shaking his head at her. "I didn't need a housekeeping bot."

"Oh, please," Ran, the girl, scoffs. "You were all up here by yourself, without your parents or Hattori or even the professor to keep you company. Even if it's just a robot, you needed someone –"

"Kaito's not 'just' a robot," Shinichi cut her off, a little sharp. His gaze is heavy on Kaito, who feels a bit as if he's been dunked in scalding water. "He's not – he's not subhuman or anything. He's not beneath us."

Ran regards Shinichi with burgeoning unease. Her eyes flicker over to Kaito. "Wait, Shinichi, did you –" She interrupts herself to groan and place her face in her well-manicured hands. "Shinichi, you know as well as I do that you're not supposed to erase all the programs on a robot! They get – unpredictable."

"You're referring to the murders that were committed by rogue androids." Shinichi is carefully blank, expression shuttering. "Ran, those events aren't indicative of… anything."

"Yes, they are," Ran mutters under her breath, looking at Kaito with some suspicion before she returns her attention to Shinichi. "Shinichi, we know you've given up hope on humanity, and who wouldn't, with all the – the crime you see, but turning to robots isn't going to solve anything."

"You shouldn't have bought me an android, then. You've always known where I stand on androids. I don't see how this is surprising," Shinichi responds, carefully blank-faced, and Ran heaves a sigh of longsuffering.

"Well, whatever. Kaito – is that his name? – seems happy enough. Hopefully he won't murder you in your sleep," she mumbles before turning to face Kaito fully. The smile she gives him is considering and laced with a hint of interest. "I'm Mouri Ran. You're Kaito?"

"Yes," Kaito confirms, trying not to shy away from her. The way she's looking at him is so different from the way Shinichi looks at him; she seems to be cataloguing every one of his flaws that she can find, but not maliciously, more – appraising, calculating. Intellectually, Kaito knows it's because she's worried for Shinichi's safety, but instinctively, it just makes him want to grab Shinichi and pull him out of the room and try to convince him that he doesn't need Ran, doesn't need anyone but Kaito. It's a terrifyingly selfish thought, because intellectually, Kaito knows it's utterly wrong, but the urge is purely, undeniably visceral. Kaito doesn't know when he lost his rationality to this kind of impulse.

Making a soft humming noise, Ran angles herself towards Shinichi once again. Her body language is dismissive; she's clearly decided Kaito isn't worth further inspection. Kaito isn't sure whether he should be glad or annoyed. "Well, deprogrammed robots aside, have you been doing anything other than moping around the house working on cases?"

"Uh," Shinichi says, apparently too slowly, and Ran smacks him on the head.

"You need to get out!" She groans dramatically. "Seriously, I can't even go on vacation for a month without you turning into a recluse."

Kaito ends up hovering in the room while they talk, feeling like the worst kind of third wheel. It's evident from the way they communicate, teasing jokes and casual brushing of shoulders, that they're comfortable around each other. Too comfortable to be just friends, from what Kaito can see. There's too much – too much of their interaction.

He stays for several more minutes before giving up and retreating into the kitchen, where he sulks for an hour until Shinichi comes in and refuses to leave until Kaito smiles, putting on his pouty face and waiting with drawn eyebrows. He looks absolutely ridiculous. Kaito wants to gather him in his arms and count the bumps along his spine and press his thumbs into the space behind his ears and never let him go.

Shinichi, Kaito thinks as he can't hold back a grin and Shinichi smirks at him triumphantly, is truly one of a kind. For not the first time, he's struck by how lucky he is to have Shinichi as his purchaser.

Ran stays.

Nobody tells (warns) Kaito. He walks downstairs the day after she arrives and finds her sitting at the kitchen table, sipping tea and scrolling through the newsfeed on her phone. Her hair is in a messy bun, a few stray strands falling artfully around her face, and Kaito, processor freezing momentarily, recognizes the oversized shirt slanted over her collarbones as one of Shinichi's. He wonders if they shared Shinichi's bedroom – he wouldn't know either way, considering that after he prepared dinner he retreated into his own room for the rest of the night. The thought makes something behind the layer of synthetic skin over his chest panel ache with pain. Phantom pain, Kaito reminds himself bitterly, because he doesn't have a heart, not like Shinichi and Ran.

"Oh." Ran blinks when she finally notices him. "Good morning, Kaito." She sounds a little guarded, but pleasant enough.

"Good morning, Mouri-san," he responds curtly. He's programmed her name as "Mouri-san" in his database – "Ran" is far too casual, and, if he's being honest, he doesn't want to get familiar with Shinichi's – whatever she is. He isn't that self-destructive.

It's at that moment, when Ran is staring at him over the rim of her mug and Kaito is being stonily and purposefully silent, that Shinichi breezes in. He looks beautiful as always, with his hair sticking up in cowlicks and his slightly too big plaid pajama pants slung low across the jut of his hipbones.

"Hey, guys," he beams, ignoring the tension in the room, and the moment is broken. Ran shakes her head at him, lips quirking upwards. Kaito moves to the stove, intent on making breakfast before he has to witness Shinichi and Ran doing their couple-y good morning routine.

He stares unblinkingly down at the pan, watching bacon fry, to the background music of Shinichi and Ran's conversation.

The next week is – to put it mildly – hell.

It's not because Ran is a horrible person or anything; she's actually rather sweet. Even if her view of androids isn't as liberal as Shinichi's, she certainly isn't the most discriminatory person. Kaito realizes soon enough that the reason for her original hesitance isn't because she thinks Kaito is lesser than them; it's out of concern for Shinichi's safety due to all the horror stories circulating the news about blanked-out androids attacking their precious purchasers. And Kaito certainly can't fault her for wanting to protect Shinichi in every way possible.

What makes the week so horrible is the fact that Ran likes to take Shinichi out.

Again, Kaito can't even hate her for it. He knows and agrees that Shinichi should leave the house more often – it's probably not healthy to spend so much time indoors, and Kaito can detect that Shinichi is lacking in vitamin D. The problem is that Kaito can't (or at least doesn't) go with them. Sure, he technically could, and Shinichi seems to want him to, but Kaito doesn't think he could stand being out in the world, seeing people's reactions to Shinichi and Ran, who look and act like the perfect golden couple, and then noticing the man trailing after them like some kind of lost child. Worst, if someone recognized him as an android. The thought is terrible.

So Kaito ends up staying behind while Ran drags Shinichi out to museums and shops and restaurants, slouched in the armchair Shinichi always sits in and memorizing Shinichi's favorite books and dreaming of reading to Shinichi on lazy mornings and wondering what they're doing out there, if Ran is pointing at a Degas and Shinichi is telling her the composition or if Ran is holding ties up to Shinichi's neck to check if they match his shirt. Kaito could imagine it, because Shinichi always comes back pink-cheeked and smiling, with Ran's hand tucked into the crook of his elbow.

And that's the thing, Kaito knows. Because Ran is so real, so alive and warm and exuberant, and she makes Shinichi the same, gets him bright-eyed and humming. She does things for him that Kaito, made of metal and wiring, could never hope to accomplish. It's a simple fact of being: Ran is the better fit, the more logical choice, and Kaito is an object, purchased and paid for. There is no comparison.

This revelation haunts Kaito for the last few days of Ran's visit. He knows Shinichi is worried about him, judging from the little looks he gives Kaito whenever he thinks Kaito isn't paying attention and how he sets a warm palm on Kaito's hip and asks, "All right?" in a soft voice at least once a day.

"No, I'm not all right," Kaito wants to tell him. "I've somehow managed to fall in love with you and now I'm stuck knowing we'd never work because I'm a hunk of metal and you're you." He doesn't say any of that, though; he just smiles and nods. He knows he's not fooling Shinichi, though – how could he, really, when Shinichi's so incessantly observant – but Shinichi doesn't push.

When Ran leaves, citing a need to visit her family, Kaito is surprised. From the way things had been going, Kaito expected her to move in.

"I'll miss you," Ran tells Shinichi the morning she's preparing to leave, reaching up to pat his cheek, and Shinichi rolls his eyes but does look a little sad.

"Sure you will."

She smiles fondly at him before her gaze drifts to Kaito. Her eyes are hard to read. "It was nice to meet you, Kaito," is all she says, though, and Kaito nods shortly in return. He's aware of Shinichi watching him with narrowed eyes, but he can't bring himself to feign any kind of sorrow at her departure. He's unfortunately conscious of just how self-destructive he's being.

"Well, I guess I'll go now," Ran finally says, and Kaito turns away so he doesn't have to watch Shinichi opening the front door for her and carrying her bags out to the waiting cab like the gentleman he is.

Shinichi finds (or corners, rather) Kaito in his room a few hours after Ran leaves. Kaito's standing by the bay window, in the middle of idly tracing shapes on the smudged glass, when Shinichi comes into the room, shutting the door purposefully behind him. "Okay, are you going to tell me what's wrong now that Ran's gone?"

"What?" Kaito tries, but Shinichi is having none of it, judging from the way his eyebrows draw downwards.

"Don't give me that," he insists, sitting down on the chair Kaito usually hibernates on. "You've been acting weird for the past week. Which, interestingly enough, is the amount of time Ran was here." When Kaito opens his mouth to insist it was a coincidence, Shinichi shakes his head. "I know, I know, correlation doesn't imply causation and all of that, but judging from the facts, I'm going to say it was because of Ran."

For a second, Kaito debates whether he should try to deny it further, but from the way Shinichi's jaw is set firmly and his eyes are growing in intensity, smoldering at Kaito like campfire embers, there is no chance of avoiding this conversation.

In a last-ditch effort to change the topic, Kaito says, "I'd think you wouldn't want to talk about your girlfriend just after she's left." It comes out more snappish and angry than he intended, and Shinichi's eyebrows jerk upwards.

"What?" He sounds honestly surprised, strangely enough. "My – who?"

"You know, your girlfriend. Mouri-san," Kaito grumbles, looking away. Outside the window, the oversized pine tree in the front yard looms over the postman walking down the sidewalk.

"You – what? You think Ran's my girlfriend?" The laugh Shinichi gives sounds – not forced, surprisingly, but more surprised than anything. "Ran's, like, my sister. Or my mom. Not a potential love interest." Kaito chances a glance over at him and is confused to see one side of Shinichi's mouth dragging upwards. "Is that why you were so upset about her? You thought she was going to – to steal me away or something?"

"No," Kaito mumbles, petulant. He knows he hasn't convinced Shinichi when Shinichi continues to smirk. "I don't see why it's so surprising that I'd think that. You two were – are close." He licks his lips needlessly. Shinichi's eyes track the motion. "And she's – she's, you know, real. Alive. And I'm – it's not like I could ever be any of that. Be enough for you."

Shinichi's expression is suddenly serious, his mouth curved downwards and eyes hooded. "Why aren't you real?" he asks, voice soft. He straightens in Kaito's chair, leaning forward.

Caught off guard, Kaito stares blankly at him. Shinichi's gaze is unrelenting, hot as a branding iron. "What do you mean?"

"Why aren't you real?" Shinichi enunciates, each syllable crisp. "What's not real about you?" He stands, walking towards Kaito until he's two breaths away. He reaches up with one hand – Kaito feels something short out – and drags his fingertips across the crest of Kaito's cheekbone. "This is real." His thumb sweeps across Kaito's bottom lip. "This is real." He lifts his other hand and places it along Kaito's side, just under the ladder of his ribs. "This is real. Why aren't you real?"

Kaito's not sure how he's still functioning, with the twin warm weights of Shinichi's hands pressed against him, but he manages somehow. "I'm not human." His voice is barely a whisper. "I'm not alive."

"What's so great about being human?" Shinichi murmurs in response. His eyes, still indistinguishably bright, search Kaito's face. "What's so great about species that kills each other over money and jealousy? What makes us better than anyone else? Why should I be proud of being a human?" The hand on Kaito's flank moves to pick up Kaito's wrist, pulling it up to drop an electrifying kiss on Kaito's fingers. Kaito's arm feels both numb and on fire. "Why aren't you alive if you talk and think and experience everything a human does? Why doesn't that count?"

"I don't have a heart," Kaito chokes out. He feels trapped in Shinichi's gaze, like a fly in amber. "I don't have a soul."

"What's a heart?" Shinichi answers. "What's a soul, in the end? You have yourself. You have me. What else do you need?"

And Kaito laughs a little breathlessly, because of course Shinichi would simplify down to that, in a way that doesn't quite not make sense but also isn't logical in the slightest, and he leans in, swaying a bit, to kiss Shinichi sloppily on the mouth. He's aware that he probably tastes like metal and rubber, but Shinichi doesn't kiss him like he does; he kisses Kaito as if Kaito is made of flesh and bone, of sun and starlight, and it's magnificent, the best thing Kaito has ever experienced.

Later, curled up with Shinichi in Shinichi's favorite armchair, he discovers that the reason he can't identify Shinichi's exact eye color is because it's an amalgamation of too many shades of blue, azure and cobalt and sapphire in equal measures, and he thinks it's not entirely unlike Shinichi himself, with all his hues of humanity. He's thinking about writing a sonnet on that theme when Shinichi pulls him closer and Kaito makes the conscious effort to stop thinking and enjoy the feeling of Shinichi's soft hair against his cheek and the warmth of his skin beneath his hands.

Was this not the weirdest thing ever. Oh my God.

Well, uh, hope you enjoyed that, even a little (if you did, please consider leaving me a review!) and I'll (hopefully?) see you all soon! - Luna