As soon as Shinichi finishes his shower, he heads out of Kaito's ensuite in borrowed sleepwear, shirtless. He takes a deep breath, jittery. Shinichi knows a little of what's coming. What's supposed to come. Nerves curl inside his stomach and throat, tempering his desire somewhat, making it hard to breathe.

He doesn't know why it hits him so hard all of the sudden. Maybe it's the realness of now, the fact that they will soon go beyond idle talk, the fact that it's not so much want now as expectation.

Maybe it's the uncertainty of where they stand with the other. They've only known each other for about two days. Still so new. Maybe it's because he's had time to think about it. The actual consequences of what Shinichi has done are only just now hitting him fully, but he still cannot bring himself to regret any of it. He has enough regrets. He's tired of them. No more.

Kaito has just finished hanging his suit, his hair still wet from his own shower, and he turns and looks at him, beaming, his hand outstretched. His smile belies his exhaustion, though, his face wan. Now that his make-up is gone, Shinichi sees shadows under his eyes. Faint stress lines at the corners of his mouth and eyes and across his brow, things that weren't there before, or maybe hidden all too well.

Shinichi's fingers twitch, and he places his hand in Kaito's own, links their fingers together. His hands are ice, so Shinichi rubs his thumb over the back of his hand. But they don't talk, and the anxiety sweeps its way through him, settling in his stomach. Kaito leads him to the bed, Shinichi deep in his own mind. Shinichi's not conscious of Kaito's curious head tilt, but he does register the tightening of his grip.

Kaito's show was absolutely brilliant. Of course it was. Shinichi didn't expect anything else. No wonder it's considered the best in the world.

As if he can read his mind, Kaito asks, "How was it?" sitting cross-legged on the bed, letting him go.

"Brilliant," Shinichi admits, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to him. "Well-put together." In all honesty, he's impressed. Also a little sad. The phantom thief had come to life once more on that stage, the flickering of moonlit shadows behind his every trick. But it was there just for his performance, tucked away again once the stage lights went down, disappearing into the dark.

Ghosts of what-might-have-beens, haunting them both. Shinichi closes his eyes, clenches his teeth. He may have been just the slightest bit disingenuous earlier. (No, he'd lied. Again.) The fact of the matter is, Shinichi does want to see the phantom thief Kid take to the stage properly again (Don't tell.) He misses the thrill of that chase. How it had been in the very beginning. His pride hadn't let him admit it to Kaito, but Shinichi is too tired of lying to himself to keep up the façade anymore.

Which makes his earlier condemnation all the more hypocritical, even as it was accidental. Kaito has been nothing but honest with him, and Shinichi has repaid him with unkindness. Kaito had really meant it when he said his time as Kid was still with him, that it was who he was, through and through. Shinichi just hadn't understood what he meant until he'd seen his show. There are shades of it, even now, in his look, in his mannerisms, in his comportment, inextricably tied to the man himself.

Shinichi wants to see him again in his element. The sudden strength of it seizes him, puts his chest in a vice, wells up until he shifts from the excess energy. He shouldn't be encouraging theft, and yet…

And yet...

Shinichi looks at his hands. Would Kaito be happier performing like that again? Shinichi won't be a police detective for much longer. Won't be one here unless he decides to renounce his Japanese citizenship and apply for American citizenship, and he doesn't want to do that. A private detective suits his needs just fine. "You were amazing," he says.

Kaito takes the opportunity to stretch across the bed, putting his head in Shinichi's lap, but tentatively, almost like he expects Shinichi to shove him off. Shinichi doesn't, of course, and then Kaito seems to relax against his thigh. "Mmm. A compliment. More than I was expecting from a critic."

Shinichi hasn't heard that appellation in a while. "You say that like I'm not capable of saying nice things about you, stupid," Shinichi says with a soft huff, brushing his fringe away from his forehead, smoothing away the fine lines there.

Kaito smiles, looking up at him with a fond expression, and Shinichi's heart eases. "I am curious though, how many tricks did the great Modern Holmes get?"

"Most of them," Shinichi admits. He proceeds to rattle some of them off. "The box trick is obviously two different women, you used reverse psychology, specifically equivocation, to make the man pick the card you wanted him to, the suitcase trick was done with a trapdoor and mirrors, the teleportation trick was done by cross-dressing as one of your assistants and blending in as they crossed the stage, but I have to admit the last one bothered me. You walked on air with no strings, no mirrors, no smoke, no harness, no lift device hidden behind the curtain. No assistance that I could see."

"And that, Shinichi, Is why I have job security!" Kaito says, glib, beaming up at him. "No one has been able to figure it out yet."

Shinichi hmms. It's certainly a difficult challenge, but he'd get it eventually. "You surprised your stage support. They clearly weren't expecting you to perform it tonight. They don't have a hand in helping with the trick?" he probes.

Kaito laughs. "Not that one, no. Though I really shouldn't have done it with so little preparation."

Shinichi frowns. "Preparation? It's something you need to prepare for that much for?"

"In a way," Kaito says, vague. Hiding his tricks, as per the usual. But the way he frames it doesn't exactly sit right with Shinichi. There's something about that last act in his performance, something more, something Shinichi's missed somewhere.

But there are more pressing things. "Are you normally this exhausted after your shows?" Shinichi asks. Kaito doesn't answer, and that's answer enough. Instead, Kaito reaches up and tucks his cold hands against Shinichi's side, causing him to jump.

"Ah! Cold!" Shinichi says. He scrambles away backwards towards the center of the bed, half in jest. Kaito chases after him on his hands and knees, leaning forward so that he is half over him, knee between his legs, staring at him intently.

"But now I have you here to warm me up," Kaito says, voice rough, and he looks at him through hooded eyes.

Shinichi loses the ability to breathe. Such long lashes, framing vibrant irises nearly fractal. Striations in the fibrous tissue of the stroma make each one more unique than a fingerprint; they draw him in, and Shinichi is lost in that abyss, blue steadily receding as Kaito's interest shows in the dilation of his pupils.

Something heavy hangs between them for a long moment. Shinichi leans forward to kiss him—

He stops, nearly frozen at Kaito's proximity. His eyes are stars, almost seeming to glow with their own inner fire in the dim light. His breath is hot against his cheek, and Shinichi can see the bright lights of the city behind him through the window, illuminating him.

Las Vegas, a man-made oasis in a desert stretching for miles, full of mirage: the city of money, of greed, of illusion, of sin, of neon lights and fever dreams. The city of obsession, and loss, and heartbreak.

The city where the Kaitou Kid has made his home. Fitting. Shinichi finds it hard to believe that this isn't phantasmagoria, that he will wake alone and find the last several days to be nothing but a dream.

The city, an illusion. The man himself, a fox spirit considering his mischievousness, his preternatural ability to disguise, lighting the uncertain path to Shinichi's future with flickering fox fire. Don't be nothing but a dream. "Please don't go," Shinichi whispers despite himself.

Kaito shakes his head, then runs the back of his hand down Shinichi's face, lingering on his cheek, thumbing his lower lip. "I'm not going anywhere," he says before closing the distance and pressing their mouths together.

The world stops, and Shinichi hangs in midair, lost in the moment. There's something different about this kiss, something more than the handful of others they'd shared. A sharp, almost painful spark at first, like touching a live wire. It jolts him alive, filling that vast emptiness inside him with something crackling, hungry, and fierce. There's ruination in this kiss, something irrevocable and raw, wholly visceral, that strips Shinichi down to his bones and leaves him shivering.

But the kiss itself is soft, patient, and it tastes like forever. Gentle, almost. There's electricity, yes, coursing through and settling low inside him. Kaito takes his time, kissing him. It's not like before. Shinichi...hasn't been kissed like this in a long time, like he's something precious, like he's a lifetime and not a distraction.

Shinichi reaches out, hesitant, tracing a line down Kaito from shoulder to stomach, splaying his hands across the span of his ribs, settling one over Kaito's heart, marvelling at his porcelain pale skin, the dip of his hips. He thinks, I've got the moonlight in my hands. Light freckles, dotting his skin like stars; Shinichi traces stories from point to point, over the skin of his chest, down the lines of his abdomen, up the strength of his forearm to the delicate curve of his shoulder, the entire night sky, vast and open. Corded muscle under skin as soft and as precious as silk velvet, firm and yielding and real. A warming hand settles around the curve of his back, another on the back of his neck, fingers nesting in his hair, pulling him over for another kiss.

Shinichi could happily die here, just like this, killed by a kiss.

Shinichi tugs Kaito down to the sheets beside him. He smells like old aftershave and sweat and stale makeup, but it's uniquely Kaito, and so help him, Shinichi can't get enough of it, pressing his nose against the underside of his jaw and inhaling deeply, touching his lips to his neck, tasting the salt on his skin.

"What is this?" he asks against the thundering of Kaito's pulse and the rapid beat of his own heart.

"I don't know," comes Kaito's whispered answer, want threaded through, fingers still in Shinichi's hair, twined and tight, other hand trailing down to settle on the curve of his hip.

Shinichi mouths his lip, biting gently with his teeth, and straddles him.

Kaito whimpers. The sound reverberates through Shinichi, shaking him to his core. Such gentle devastation, wrecking him utterly.

He licks into Shinichi's mouth; Shinichi drinks of him deeply, tongues sliding against one another's. He tastes of cinnamon and fire, making little needy noises Shinichi swallows. It's not just his hands that are cold, though they are warming. His entire body is cool to the touch. Shinichi's running hot. Touch, taste, sound, smell, sight; Kaito surrounds him utterly, and for a moment, it's too much; Shinichi is absolutely drunk on Kaito's everything, and yet still he wants more.

Overwhelmed, Shinichi pulls away, but only just. "How did we get here?" Shinichi breathes, looking down at him. Kaito's watching him with such a peculiar expression.

"I don't know," Kaito repeats, sounding lost. "Shinichi, I—" he swallows. "Let me love you. Please. Let me love you," he whispers.

Shinichi doesn't quite catch it. "Hmm?"

Kaito shakes his head. "Nevermind." He kisses him again, slow, lingering, caressing Shinichi's cheek. He shivers.

Shinichi loses track of time. The world slows to a crawl, slipping away except for this; soft breaths ghosting across his skin, fingers entwining with his, kiss after kiss after kiss after kiss.

Hands, trailing down, down, down as two lost souls find each other for the first time.

Slow exploration turns to urgent need, wanton hunger. Voices fading into the night, calling names, epithets, curses, prayers.

The ascent and then—

—the fall, reaching terminal velocity.

And then—

"Shinichi!" Kaito gasps, broken.

"I've got you," Shinichi breathes, lying when he doesn't even have himself, and holds him close, completely wrung out, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

Kaito's crying as he clings to Shinichi, shaking in the aftermath. It's reflexive, Shinichi thinks. Not a loud thing. He doesn't think Kaito is even aware he's doing it.

Shinichi isn't unaffected. It had been nothing like he'd expected. Shinichi might not survive if it is like this every time.

It leaves him too—raw aching vulnerable—he doesn't really know how to describe it in a way that makes any sense outside the vastness of his heart.

Driven by an impulse he cannot name, Shinichi cups Kaito's face in his hands, and licks the path of shining tears from chin to cheek, first the left, and then the right. It tastes of salt and a hint of something else, something inscrutable.

He's a little self-conscious of it and he almost expects Kaito to say something about it. Instead, he just clings to Shinichi harder, sucking in a shuddering breath, pressed against the hollow of his throat.

"Good?" Kaito slurs into his neck.

"Good," Shinichi says.

"Mmmmmmm, good," Kaito mumbles, content.

Shinichi measures him for a long moment, then rolls over on his side and pulls Kaito into his arms. "C'mere." Kaito's facing him, his head tucked against his chest, and Shinichi wraps a leg over his hip and pulls him closer. He presses a soft kiss to the top of his tangled hair.

Kaito buries his face in his chest, tucking himself under his neck and letting out a sleepy whine.

"Childish," Shinichi says.

"Kid," Kaito mumbles against his skin. It kind of tickles. Shinichi shifts a little.

"Like that's an excuse."

Kaito makes an unintelligible noise and burrows deeper, hooking one of Shinichi's legs with his own until they're hopelessly entangled.

"Uh-huh," Shinichi says, unimpressed. But his hand settles over Kaito's side, and he sweeps his hand across his back, rubbing it gently. Something large and heavy settles at the bottom of his heart, expanding and filling him with a strange feeling.

It's not love right now—how could it be?—but it is compatibility. Contentment. Understanding. Potential. And for Shinichi, that's enough.

Shinichi pulls back a little so he can see him, and Kaito shifts over, turning his head. He blinks slowly, close to sleep. "Do you think it's fate?" he asks Shinichi dreamily.

"Hmm?"

"Y'know, A fated encounter—meeting all those years ago and meeting again now—almost like it was meant to be," he says, yawning.

The feeling in his heart grows. "I don't believe in fate," Shinichi tells him.

"That's okay," Kaito says, patting his arm. "I'll believe for the both of us. It'd be nice if you were my destiny," he says 'You and me are destined, you'll agree, to spend the rest of our lives with each other,' Kaito sings from nowhere. Shinichi is momentarily taken aback.

"What?"

"'We'll spend the rest of our lives with each other, the rest of our days like two lovers, Forever," Kaito sings. "Forever," he repeats, this time a whisper. "Would you love me forever?" he asks, voice filled with sleep. His eyes are closed.

"Love you forever?" Shinichi asks, thinking. Forever wouldn't be too bad. Not if he could spend it like this.

"Mmhmm," Kaito says.

Shinichi hmms. "Yeah. But only until forever."

"Just until then?" Kaito says, and he sounds despondent.

Shinichi presses another kiss to his head and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. A spade meets a clover against a backdrop of diamonds and they join hearts. "Forever is as far as I'll go, I'm afraid."

A future, he thinks as Kaito falls asleep in his arms, his breaths steadily slowing. Their future. As they hold one another, the city bustles and the world spins without a thought to them, caught as they are in such a private moment.

And Shinichi has no regrets.

-The End-

[Coda]

I.

It's late when Heiji finally finds his way back to the hotel. He heads up to his and Kazuha's room almost on autopilot, wanting nothing but sleep since he's going on about thirty-six hours awake. He cracks a yawn, tries to stay alert despite feeling like the undead, but it's hard. He doesn't want to do anything but sleep at this point and worry about that stupid stuff tomorrow.

So of course Ran is sitting on the bed with Kazuha holding hands as he enters. He almost lets out an audible groan. He really doesn't want to deal with this. Both of them are already dressed for bed, but that doesn't mean they won't interrogate him.

"Heiji-kun…? Did you find him?" Ran asks as soon as Heiji enters the room he shares with Kazuha, before he can even get his bearings.

Both hands in his pockets, he lets out a great big sigh. "Yeah, Nee-chan. I did."

"Is he all right?" Ran asks, wringing her hands. She's tired, as are they all, her posture slumped.

Heiji frowns, shifting to keep life in his tingling feet. "He's fine. Don't worry 'bout 'im. He says he'll be back in time for yer ceremony tomorrow."

Kazuha speaks up. "Heiji. You were gone for a long time too, and you didn't call or nothin' neither."

"Yeah. Took me a bit to find 'em, that's all. Had a lead. Didn't want to give Nee-chan false hope if I couldn't find him, ya know?" He emphatically doesn't want to deal with the fallout of Kudō's choices. That's on him. From hiding the truth from her then to whatever wild thing he's on about now.

"Did he say—Why didn't he come back with you?" Ran asks.

"I think it'll be better if he tells you that, Nee-chan." He puts his hand on her shoulder. "Now why don't cha head off to bed. I'm sure yer husband is lookin' for you."

Ran looks almost startled, like she'd forgotten she was married. Heiji ain't one to judge, but this whole situation is damn complicated. He's glad he ain't in the middle of it, but it does bother him that it affects several people he cares about.

But people gotta be free to make their own way and their own mistakes. He hates it but there ain't nothing he can do about it but be there for them in the fallout.

"You know what's going on?" she asks.

"I know where he's at, and he's safe," Heiji reassures her. At times like this, he's reminded how selfish Kudō can be sometimes. It wouldn't have hurt him to set the lady's mind at ease. Course, he's nursing his own wounds, too. A damn complicated situation all around. Don't matter how this situation will end up, someone is gonna get hurt.

"Thanks, Heiji-kun," Ran says. "I just wish he'd—" she lets out an unhappy little sigh, hugging herself. "At least he was open with you."

Heiji can't help but laugh at that. Kudō? Open? Ha! "More like I pried it outta him. He'll be back tomorrow, so don't you worry." And if he doesn't show up, Heiji will drag him out by his ear if he has to.

Ran leaves, and Heiji finally lets out that sigh he's been holding in.

"Where was Shinichi-kun?" Kazuha asks him once they're alone. Heiji sits on the bed next to her, stripping down to his boxers.

"I wasn't gonna tell Nee-chan," Hattori says. "And you ain't gonna tell 'er either, all right?" he says, crossing his arms and tilting his head up. "Kudō's gonna tell her tomorrow. I made sure of it." He shuffles under the covers. Kazuha joins him.

"Heiji—" she warns.

"All right?" He stresses again.

"All right!" Kazuha says, exasperated.

"I found 'im in a weddin' chapel gettin' married."

"What?!" Kazuha shrieks. Heiji winces at the volume, rubbing his ear. "Are ya serious?"

"As a heart attack, Kazuha. You know I wouldn't joke 'bout something like this."

"But why?"

"You know why as well as I do."

Kazuha pauses, considering, hand on her chin. "Who was the bride?"

"Groom."

"Well, Shinichi-kun was the groom! I asked who the bride was, stupid!" Kazuha grumbles.

"No, Kudō was gettin' married to a man, dummy! If you would just listen!"

"What the hell?" Kazuha says, stunned. "I didn't know Shinichi-kun was," her voice falls.

"Well, it ain't somethin' that you exactly talk about openly, Kazuha. I didn't even suspect either." And that kind of burned a bit, that Kudō felt he couldn't trust him with that kind of thing. It's not like it would have changed anything between them. Kudō was his best friend for better or worse.

"Who's the groom, then?"

"Some kinda magician by the name of Kuroba Kaito."

"Is he foreign? That name's Japanese."

"Yeah, he's originally from Japan. Tokyo, as a matter of fact. Kudō says they're old friends."

"'Kudō says?' What? You don't believe 'im?"

"I know they weren't friends, Kazuha. I know each an' every time they've met, and it ain't been a lot. I ain't never met the guy before today!"

"Why does it bother you so much?" Kazuha asks.

"Cause I don't want him gettin' hurt! That guy could be usin' him!"

"But cha met 'im, right? What was yer impression?"

"I don't know that I can trust my impression!" Kaitou Kid was the master of disguise! He could act like anyone, be anybody! "But," Heiji took a deep breath. "He seemed like a nice guy. Raked me over the coals for lettin' Kudō go off on his own. Says he found 'im half dead from drink. Don't tell that to Nee-chan."

Kazuha lets out a gasp, hands flying to her mouth. "Poor Shinichi-kun! And you don't know why Kudō married 'im?" Kazuha asks.

"I know exactly why Kudō married 'im. What I don't get is why that guy married Kudō!"

"Why did Shinichi-kun marry 'im, then?"

Hattori lets out a sigh, falls back to the bed beside Kazuha. "You know why."

"Ran," Kazuha says. "Even after all this time, he still…"

"Yeah. But he made 'im laugh, Kazuha. I'd forgotten how he looked without all those lines weighin' down on his face. He looked happy. That's the first time in a long time I've seen 'im that way."

"Is that why you let 'im stay there?"

Heiji lets out another sigh. "It really ain't none of my business, anyway. But what's that Kuroba guy getting out of it?"

Kazuha says a little hesitantly, "Maybe he was lonely too."

"What?"

"It must be hard, movin' to a new country, leaving everythin' behind. And even if they never really met all that much, it might still be a touch of home. We did what we could, but well," she reaches out and grabs his hand. "Shinichi-kun is very lonely, too."

Heiji frowns. Could it really be that simple?

He doesn't realize he's said it aloud until Kazuha huffs. "You detectives think too much, sometimes, especially about matters of the heart," she says in answer to his question. "For once, why doncha let it be? Always so suspicious. Sometimes, you just gotta believe in the good of people."

"Believe in the good of people, huh?"

"He bawled you over for not watchin' over your friend, and you say he makes him happy. I don't think he can be a bad person."

"Yeah," Heiji says. "Now that you say it, yeah." It doesn't preclude some secret agenda, which Heiji can easily believe of that guy, but he decides to trust Shinichi's judgement.

"You can watch 'im tomorrow and decide for yourself," Heiji says, reaching over and flipping off the light. Kazuha rolls over on his arm, back to his chest, and his other hand settles about her waist. "When did you get so wise?"

"Havin' to deal with bein' married to you," Kazuha says.

Heiji can't help but laugh. It's true enough. "'Night, 'zuha," he says, pulling her tight, kissing her, and pressing a protective hand against her stomach.

"Mmm. 'Night, Heiji."

II.

Ran's pacing outside the hall. Shinichi's still not here yet, and it's awfully close to the time of the wedding. The day before yesterday had been the showy ceremony for a large portion of their local friends and acquaintances: the ones Eisuke had met on his journey in the FBI. Today is supposed to be a smaller ceremony and reception for those that couldn't make it yesterday, alongside close friends and family who could make the trip, financed in part by Shinichi and Sonoko's family. Ran thinks two ceremonies are a little much, and she would have liked to have this one back in Japan, but it was a compromise she and Eisuke had agreed on after much arguing.

But she refuses to stand at the altar without Shinichi by her side.

Shinichi left a note saying he'd be back later, but no one's seen or heard from him in over twenty-four hours, except for Heiji. Heiji knows where he is, and she trusts his judgment, but Ran's wedding party is in a dull, subdued mood. Most of her friends are his friends too, and they're all worried.

He'd seemed distracted and down the day before yesterday, like he was putting on a brave face for her. She sighs. Why he thinks he can still hide himself from her she doesn't know. She can read him so easily.

Ran wishes it were as easy as it had seemed when they were children. Then, it seemed like love conquered all. The perspective gained by adulthood dimmed that idealistic notion. Time had taught her that love wasn't enough. They'd tried, oh how they tried to make it work. But Shinichi kept pulling away when they were romantically involved; she'd tried pulling back, but for the sake of her heart and her sanity she finally had to let him go. She still loves him deeply, but Ran and Shinichi have settled into a deep and abiding friendship instead.

It's not as if she loves Eisuke any less. He's a kind man, a wonderful friend, a better lover.

But she and Shinichi have been friends since preschool and all that entails. They're family, if not by blood. So she worries. She'd never hurt him intentionally, but both of them have made choices they'll have to live with for the rest of their lives for better or for worse.

Ran reaches the end of the corridor, about to turn and pace the hall again, when the elevator around the corner dings, the door opens, and a familiar voice sounds out.

"—still not sure if I'm ready," Shinichi says.

Shinichi! She's about to call out to him when an unfamiliar voice stops her. "You know, you don't have to put yourself through this." It's a man's voice.

"I'm not a coward."

A placating tone. "I didn't say you were, Detective. But you are only human."

"That's no excuse. I made a promise. It's not really that, anyway."

"Are you afraid of what people will say, then? Do you want me to be your dirty little secret?" A bitter laugh. "It's a little late for that. We're all over the tabloids."

Tabloids? Dirty little secret? Just what has Shinichi been up to? It almost sounds like—

"I know," Shinichi scoffs. "Now who's making assumptions? Please. I've never been afraid of going against popular opinion. You know it's not about us at all. I," he pauses. "I just don't want to hurt her," he says, voice soft. "I've already done that far too much."

She stiffens, pressing herself against the wall.

"What would hurt her worse, then? Telling her now, or her finding out on her own later?"

"Personal experience?" Shinichi asks.

"Personal experience," the voice confirms.

"Is that why she didn't—"

"Probably," the voice admits. "But I thought we were past things like that."

"You'll stay?" Shinichi pleads.

"Of course. Won't be the first wedding I've crashed."

"Will it make the papers, too?" Shinichi asks.

Another pause.

"Probably," he and the voice say at the same time.

"Disadvantages of being a household name," the man continues. "Though I didn't think I was famous enough to warrant that mass of paparazzi outside my hotel this morning."

"Well, if they really need something to talk about," Shinichi says, voice leading, and if Ran didn't know better, she'd say Shinichi was flirting.

"Shinichi, I thought you'd never ask," the voice says, fond with a heated edge.

There's silence. That gives Ran the courage to poke her head around the corner. She gets her first glimpse of the mystery man as he is pinning Shinichi to the side of the hallway so all she can see is his back, a mess of wild hair, hands grasping Shinichi's lapels as he leans into him, and it doesn't take a detective to deduce they're kissing.

The bottom of Ran's heart drops.

Ran places her hand over her mouth, retreating back to the hall to give them space, her mind whirring. Heiji's voice comes to her unbidden, "I think it's better if he tells you."

That! Augh! He's stupid! She's stupid for worrying about him all night when he was just out doing who-knows-what with what-knows-who. And Heiji knew! He knew about it last night or he wouldn't have been so evasive when she asked him about Shinichi! They're both stupid!

She can feel sharp burning behind her eyes but she ignores it, stalking back to the small room she's been using to get ready and touching up on her make-up angrily.

Shinichi didn't even have the courtesy to let them know where he was going or what he was doing, or when he'd be back, and then he arrives just minutes before the wedding is supposed to begin proper and starts necking with a strange man!

Who is that guy anyway? Ran wonders, looking at herself in the mirror. Her hand falters, and she places down her brush. She looks lost and hurt and a little afraid, and it takes ten years off her, making her look like a young girl again.

When did things get so complicated?

When they grew up?

But Ran still feels the same way she did when she was a child. Adulthood hasn't changed anything inside her at all. Was it the world that changed around her? Why does she feel so lost?

She touches her hand to the mirror.

"Did you just see that look on Eisuke-kun's face, Ran?" Sonoko asks, hands on her hips and a frown on her face. "Seriously, like he just walked by all slumped over and shaking with a really pale face, like he'd seen a murder or a ghost or something." She sits down heavily in the chair next to Ran, adjusting the skirts of her pale blue dress.

Ran doesn't answer, still lost in thought. It's not as if she minds seeing him with someone else, that's not it at all. She's happy for him. She really is. She doesn't want him to be lonely, and they're clearly into one another. It's just he didn't tell her. She didn't even know he was seeing anyone. She thought they'd gotten to a point where they actually talked.

Guess not, and it hurts.

"Hey, Ran?" Sonoko asks, waving her hand in front of her face. "Ran?" she asks again when Ran doesn't give her a response. "Earth to Ran!"

"Huh?" Ran blinks.

A sigh as Sonoko rubs her forehead. "Nevermind," she says.

That's when Shinichi strolls into the room with bruised lips and mussed hair like nothing has happened.

"Where have you been?" Sonoko yells, but Shinichi ignores her, instead watching Ran, as if he's waiting for her reaction. "It's almost time!"

"Sorry," Shinichi says. "My phone died and I lost track of time."

Lie, she thinks. An expression crosses Ran's face; she doesn't know what it is, too caught up in a swirl of emotion, but Shinichi flinches at it. "We should get started," she says. "Everyone else is already here." Shinichi flinches again.

She doesn't know if the excuse makes it better or worse. She might have believed it if she hadn't seen him in the hallway, even, and that infuriates her.

Sonoko interrogates him, but Ran ignores their byplay, not wanting to hear what must be excuses.

Kazuha is just staring at him hard, considering. Considering, but not surprised. The corner of Ran's mouth tugs up despite it all; she must have gotten it from Heiji last night.

Ran floats through the proceedings, dazed, like she's watching it from outside her body. She's still trying to process it; it seems unreal. Shinichi is most emphatically not the type to have a tryst with a stranger. But he did, and she doesn't know how to feel.

Eisuke seems shaken as well. His sister Hidemi is standing with him, across from Shinichi, shooting him concerned looks, but he keeps glancing at Shinichi for some reason. However Shinichi ignores him, keeps his eyes somewhere towards the back of the room.

It's midway through their vows that Ran sees what he's looking at. In the back of the room, next to the door is a figure leaning casually against the wall with his hands in his pockets. Deliberately styled rat's nest hair. Distressed and torn blue jeans, red high-top Converse with one dirty foot planted on the expensive wall in a show of rebellious nonchalance. He's wearing a scraggly red bow tie loose around his neck, an untucked dress shirt, a creased suit jacket, and a pair of mirrored aviator sunglasses. He's also chewing gum with his mouth open and Ran thinks she can hear the smacking from here.

Shinichi's mystery man.

He doesn't seem like the kind of man who would be Shinichi's type, though. Not that Ran really knows. They never really talked about it, though she's aware of his inclinations; he cares for intellect and verve above all else. And she can't really see his face, though he looks somewhat familiar. She blinks, turns her attention back to the wedding. She'll have a chance to grill him after the wedding—if they stick around.

They do.

After Ran and Eisuke have done the pleasantries, tossed the bouquet and cut the cake and danced, she's free to mingle with her guests.

It is a party, after all.

She sees Shinichi getting harangued by his mother. Good. Ran's not the only one irritated at him, then. She walks up to them.

"—and your father and I had absolutely NO idea where you were and after," a look in Ran's direction, "after that case you just can't do that to us, Shin-chan. You just can't."

"Where is Dad anyway?" Shinichi says, annoyed. "I already told you my phone died."

"That's beside the point! In this modern age, there are plenty of alternatives! You could have found a way! Where were you?" Kudō Yukiko asks. "And what is that on your finger?"

That's when Shinichi's mystery man appears from seemingly out of nowhere, hooking an arm around his shoulders, a glint of gold on the hand draped over Shinichi's shoulder.

And oh, Ran lets out a little gasp.

They're wearing matching rings. Gold bands to be exact, though the unnamed man is wearing what looks like an expensive engagement ring on top of that. It's really pretty, if not exactly masculine. The man doesn't even seem like he cares, flaunting it, looking at Shinichi like he's the only person in the world.

Kudō Yukiko squeals. "Kuroba-kun?!"

Wait, Shinichi's mother recognizes him?

"Shin-chan, you didn't!"

"Hello," the man says with a beatific smile. Ran's heart nearly skips a beat, much to her chagrin.

"Hi!" Shinichi's mom continues to gush. "I've seen your show! I've been meaning to stop by and talk to you personally for ages, but I've just never had time! You've grown up to be so handsome!"

"Shinichi told me you were a fan," the man demurs. A fan, Ran wonders, bewildered. A fan of what? What show? "He didn't tell me you were stunning."

"Charming, too! You don't remember meeting me when you were small? Oh, you would have been six or so. I was your father's student! Small world!"

The man's eyes widen. "You were the grandm—" Yukiko glares. He quickly endeavours to correct himself. "The grand and beautiful auntie my old man introduced me to. I gave you a flower, if I'm recalling it correctly."

"You did, Kuroba-kun!"

"Please, call me Kaito since you are my mother-in-law."

"You got married!?" Yukiko squeals. "Shin-chan!"

Shinichi and Kuroba exchange significant looks. "It was a spur-of-the-moment thing," Shinichi says. "Not planned at all. One thing led to another and then," Shinichi shrugs.

"Welcome to the family, Kuroba-kun!" Yukiko says. "But how could you get married without me?" she asks, pouting. "And to little Kaito-chan of all people? I didn't even know you were—"

"I don't recall you needing to be a vital part of the proceedings," Shinichi says, cutting her off, testy. "And yes, I figured that out quite some time ago."

Married?

"Shinichi?" Ran asks, voice uncertain. Her fingers find her dress, and she grips the fabric desperate for something to hold on to.

But married?

That gets his attention.

"R-Ran," he says.

Yukiko looks between them. "Shin-chan, I think I'm going to go find your father." She takes the moment to discreetly remove herself from the conversation. Ran is grateful for her consideration.

"You got married?" she asks, searching his eyes. She was having trouble with the whole dating thing, and to find out instead that he's married?

To Shinichi's credit, he doesn't flinch or look away this time, but holds her gaze. "I did. I'm sorry if it takes away from your day, it wasn't meant to," he stops, looking unsure. "I'm sorry," he repeats.

Ran is still trying to wrap her mind around it, but some part of her realizes that she's being rude, and in the absence of steady ground to stand on, she defaults to those practiced motions of politeness. "Well, aren't you going to introduce me to your husband?" she asks, and to her relief, her voice does not falter on the last word.

"Right," he says, looking relieved. "So this is Kuroba Kaito. My uh, husband."

"I do like hearing you say that, Shinichi darling," the man purrs.

Meeting Ran's eyes with an inscrutable gaze, he steps forward holding his hand out, with an easy smile. "You are the fair flower Ran, I gather," Kuroba says, tucking a loose strand of hair that had fallen from her chignon behind her ear, but there's a weight that wasn't there before; she reaches up and finds an orchid there.

"Yes," she says.

Ran holds out her hand; he doesn't shake it. Instead, he bows low, presses a gentle kiss to her knuckles. "Enchantè, madame." His lips linger. Ran's eyes flicker to Shinichi, but he's just watching them both with amusement. "I must say, you are a divine sight this evening. A beautiful woman such as yourself always has permission to call me Kaito."

"And you are just a base flatterer," Ran says, charmed despite herself. Shinichi's husband has manners even though he came to a wedding dressed like that as an uninvited guest.

"A flatterer, yes, but not base. Never base. I find that gauche. I mean every word, my dear." And he enjoys laying it on thick, too. She tells him that, and he laughs.

"Shinichi has told me so much about you," Kuroba says.

"That's interesting. I know absolutely nothing about you," Ran says sweetly.

He inclines his head. "A fair point," he says, but he does not elaborate.

"So who are you?" Ran presses.

"Just a man," he says, and Shinichi blinks at his words, a little startled for some reason, but he follows it with a blinding smile.

And it tells Ran nothing. To the point, then.

"What are your intentions towards Shinichi?" She takes an aggressive step forward, planting her feet firmly in a base karate stance. Kuroba almost takes a step back, hands up in defense.

"Isn't it a little late to be asking that?" Kuroba asks, amused.

Ran crosses her arms.

"His mother gave me her approval?"

Ran narrows her eyes.

He holds his hands up in surrender.

"Spirit willing, I plan to have and to hold for a very, very long time." He shifts, looks down for a moment, not meeting her eyes. "As a matter of fact, until death do us part. Consider him my kept man."

"Hey, hey!" Shinichi says.

"Oh?" Ran says. "Your kept man, huh?"

"He won't want for anything, and I will do my very best to keep him happy."

"Don't I get a say in this?" Shinichi asks.

Both of them turn at once to him and say, "No!" then look at one another with approval.

"I do mean the part about his happiness, my dear," Kuroba says.

Ran turns to Shinichi. "Does he make you happy?

Shinichi smiles, his expression soft and fond. "He does."

"Is this—is everything all right?" Will everything be all right between us, she doesn't say.

"It is, Ran. For the first time in a long time, I think it really is."

"Good." She kisses Shinichi on the cheek. "I'm happy that you're happy." Some part of her will always ache with their might-have-been, but she's sincere. Shinichi's been her best friend since they were toddlers, just about. Nothing could ever make her cut him out of her life, not even this surprise. She throws her arms around him and he tucks her into his chest. "I'm glad."

III.

Considering what Shinichi has sprung on her today, the grace with which Hondō Ran has handled herself speaks well of her.

So Kaito takes a step back at the kiss, turns away at the intimate embrace, leaving them to their conversation. He can acknowledge its necessity but he doesn't have to see it. Kaito fades back into the crowd with the ease of over a thousand performances. He has to take a moment, get some fresh air or something.

All these people here are ones Shinichi knows. It's a lot of people. He knows little of them. And for all he's used to either the intimate arrangement of fancy tables or the full row seating of the theater stage, the thick crowd of his heists filled with people screaming his name and only his, it is overwhelming to be alone in a crowded room. He closes his eyes, lets the sound of the music and the slow susurrus of the crowd flow through him, basking in the old familiar sounds of the Japanese language.

It's easy to forget just how much he'd missed the language, the people, but being here is bringing it all back.

As well as the reason he left. His stomach churns thinking about it, but he has to get over it eventually. Will he ever be first in anyone's heart? Ah, such an unworthy, unsightly thought, but he cannot help how he feels.

Out of place. Even more so now that Shinichi and the woman who is his lodestar are talking in confidence. He went into this relationship with full knowledge of their history, but jealousy burns low and hard in his gut. He ignores it with the ease of someone used to swallowing his reactions and putting on an act. He rubs his mouth.

He's only human, and so he is jealous, but doesn't blame Shinichi for his lingering affections, nor does Kaito act on his feelings. He learnt that lesson a long time ago, and he chooses to trust, now. Shinichi promised to build a life together, and Kaito believes him. He's not so insecure in their relationship, even as new as it is, as to act territorial and brutish. He is above that. He has to be above that.

Kuroba Kaito will always be a gentleman first. He doesn't expect anything he's given freely to be returned. Relationships are not checks and balances, not investments upon which one should expect a return.

People are not things.

He meanders through said crowd towards the food, lifting a glass of champagne from a server as he walks by, knocking it back without tasting it and pocketing the flute afterwards as per habit. The table's an interesting tableau of traditional Japanese food and American fusion foods and desserts. Abruptly, another wave of homesickness overtakes Kaito, and he has to lean against the table to get his bearings.

He thought he was past this.

Not American. He doesn't really feel Japanese, either, not anymore, not after half a decade of living in a foreign country. It's a bizarre, almost supernatural experience. Things that once seemed so familiar, now alien and strange.

He thinks of Betty at the diner and her struggle to work and go to school and raise her daughter by herself and her bright personality despite it all, of Zara and their talks about politics deep into the night and her dreams of making it as a headliner, of Tony and his love for fast cars and old music, of standing in a hot kitchen making tamales with Lupe and Miguel as they banter back and forth in Spanish he half understands.

Brief sparks of happiness in an existence otherwise devoid of it.

How much of himself did he lose in the trembling of that night when he decided enough was enough?

Too much.

He fills a plate, wonders if it's worth it to discretely check for poison considering Shinichi's track record, wanders to the drinks.

Oh, and there's the groom by the drink table, talking to a woman who looks similar enough to him to be his sister, the one who stood with him as best "man," both of them in the black suits that seem to be the FBI's casual wear, rather than tuxedos. Hondō Eisuke is lean and slender-boned, yet he has the muscle of a field agent. His large eyes, cherubic nose, and full lips make him model pretty; assuredly a detriment in his profession.

Kaito steps towards him, setting his plate on the table. "I hear congratulations are in order?" Kaito says, giving him a showman's smile.

He stares at him for the longest time. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

"Kuroba Kaito," Kaito says, expecting that response—he did sort of crash the wedding—and he has to fight not to smile when Hondō starts and does a double take.

"THE Kuroba Kaito?" he says faintly. "World-renowned magician? 'Greatest since Houdini?'"

Oh? Kaito bows with a flourish. "That's what they say." Kaito has little choice in the matter, for all they praise him. He continues to perform because it is one of the few things that let himself feel—at least until recently. "You've seen my show?" he says with some surprise.

"Not personally, but I recognize the name. My supervisor was inspired and impressed. He says some of your techniques have practical field applications and attempted to adapt them. What you doing here?" he sounds so bewildered. Kaito is not far from it. Shinichi is one thing, but knowledge that some certain of his skills have helped other investigators is...strange.

"Existentially or in this particular location?" Kaito asks. "Because I have commentary on both, if you'd like." The man blinks, so Kaito sighs and says, "I'm here with Shinichi."

"How do you know Kudō?" Hondō asks, curious.

"Intimately," Kaito says, just to see how he reacts and he has to swallow a grin when the man sputters and turns red at the implication. How has he made it as an alphabet agent with such open emotions, Kaito wonders. He'd be so easy to hustle. Kaito's fingers itch, and he's tempted to pick pocket him. Just to keep in practice. Maybe test how well they'd supposedly adapted them.

"T-that's not what I meant!" Hondō says.

"You did ask."

Hondō blinks again. "Oh, wait a minute. You're the one who kissed him in the hallway," he says. Kaito hadn't realized he'd seen that.

"He's my husband? Spouses do that?" Kaito says.

"H-husband?" he sputters, turning pale. "Husband?" he repeats.

"Happily married, thank you," Kaito says, perfect poker face in place, though he feels a little sick at this reaction. It's a little extreme. "Is that really any way for you to act?" he says, turning to the table and rearranging a few of the drinks for his hands to have something to do. Yes, they'd kissed in public, but regardless of their words, it had been in what they thought was a deserted hallway.

"It's just surprising!" he says, hands up, waving them. "Kudō just never struck me as that type."

"'That type?'" Ah. Kaito had expected something to be said along those lines, but not so soon and not from this quarter. He grabs a cola can from the artfully arranged ice, secreting it away.

"I mean—"

"I think I get your meaning well enough," Kaito says. He bows. "Excuse me. Again, congratulations," he says with finality, leaving, bumping into him and pickpocketing his badge, replacing it with a similarly sized gag wallet that won't open.

He opens the FBI badge once he's sure he's out of sight of prying eyes, memorizing the shape, texture, and format. Kaito doesn't expect to ever use it, or have to forge one, but one never knows. He'll give it back later. Maybe.

Kaito casts another eye over the proceedings. So many people here, especially for a wedding on foreign soil: there's Hondō neé Mōri-san's old man and his erstwhile wife, which is a given, but there's also what seems to be half the Tokyo police force—really, was there anyone left in Tokyo, the criminals must be going wild—that bumbling professor, Shinichi's Detective Boys, that one he'd disguised as close by, munching at the food. Heirs of at least four different zaibatsu. That martial artist that still gives Kaito nightmares, next to Sonoko, as well as the flat-chested girl with a decent kick. At least one prominent American official tugging at his tie and looking vaguely uncomfortable.

That's not counting Mr. Alphabet's suits. Kaito can spot an agent easily enough and the room is filled with them.

Then his mobile phone rings. It's his manager. Ah, he'd forgotten all about needing to send updates of the past few days of his life to the person that well, managed it. Shinichi really has turned his life sideways, not that he'd let him know. Last night had been—well. (heaven) Certainly something.

Kaito steps away, grateful for the excuse to leave, but dreading the coming conversation. He really should have called sooner. He heads outside the reception hall, answers the ring.

"Kuroba speaking."

A beleaguered sigh. "You don't do anything by halves, do you?"

Kaito winces. "I've been meaning to call, Kaoru, but—"

"Wish I hadn't found out from the news. It's been hellish all day. I've been fielding calls since four am. You think that freaky sky last night would get more attention, but no, it's you and your new beau."

"I'm sorry, I should have let you know."

"How exactly am I supposed to spin it to your publicist? What happened? You're usually more discreet than this, and a one night stand with a man isn't exactly good for your family friendly image. You should hear some of the speculation—on second thought, you'd better not."

"What exactly about the fact he is a man has anything to do with it? If he were a woman would we even be having this conversation?"

"Kaito, I don't care, you know I don't, but you know what the media does to people like us."

"I can think of many that are still successful entertainers. Times have changed."

"Not that much."

"Besides, I'm nothing but some two-bit old magician, remember?" Kaito says, teasing. "You were surprised I'd even made it this far. Would it really matter if I fell from popular good opinion?"

"You just have to keep bringing that up, don't you," Kaoru says, tone that of long-suffering.

"And it wasn't an affair. He's my husband."

"What?" Kaito pulls the phone away from his ear mid-yell.

"Mmhmm!" Kaito says, falsely chipper. "You can check with the county. We filed yesterday, and the officiant said they'd already sent it in."

A groan. "You really don't do things by halves. Let's do damage control. Okay, when and where did you first meet, and how long have you been dating?"

"Sixteen, Tokyo, and one—no, maybe one and a half days?"

"You're kidding," Kaoru says, disbelieving, but Kaito can still hear the clacking of the keys as he pounds away furiously on his keyboard.

"'Fraid not. Met again in a bar night before last and married yesterday."

"Kaito, what am I supposed to do with you? Why? He's not a gold digger or anything, is he? Did you sign a prenup? Please tell me you signed a prenup. Nevada's a community property state."

When would he have had the time? Kaito can't help it; he laughs. "Shinichi? He's the last person that would ever. I don't even think money registers on his radar. I know it's your job to worry about me, but don't. I can handle myself."

Another sigh. "You can't handle yourself. That's why you hired me. I should really make good on my threats about hiring you a PA. But I don't worry about you because it's my job, I worry about you because you're my friend, Kaito, and I don't want to see you hurt."

"Right. So if I were to lose my show, you're saying you wouldn't be the first to skip out?" Because after everything had gone wrong between them, Kaito had been the one left scrambling to manage his own affairs. He'd done it well—of course he had, he was Kaito after all—but it hadn't been pleasant, and he'd been too hurt and stubborn to hire anyone else.

"Damn it, Kaito, I'm here till you fire me and beyond that. It hasn't been about the money for a long time, not since the beginning and you know that." Yet another sigh. "God, Kaito, you do this every time someone shows they care even a little about you."

"Do what?"

"Push them away. Hurt them before they can hurt you. Is it any wonder I'm surprised? How did he even make it through that icy heart of yours?"

That hurts. "Kaoru—"

"How long has he got before you do it to him, too?"

Kaito doesn't know what to say, and he can't hear anything but the dull static buzz of the phone. Eventually, he just says, "You can spin it however you would like, I don't care. Just don't—Shinichi's not like that, alright? "

"Wow. He's got his claws in deep already, huh?"

"Kaoru," Kaito says, tone a clear warning.

"Yeah, yeah, no slandering the spouse, got it. So you met when you were sixteen?"

"Or thereabouts," Kaito says, thinking. How old was Shinichi really, considering his deaging and subsequent growth?

"That's something I can work with, at least. His last name? I'll do a background check and find out the rest."

"Kudō."

"Like the international best-selling author?"

"...Yeah." Kaito has always believed that surprises are healthy and good for people.

"Anything else I need to know?"

"Nothing that I can think of, no."

"Let me know if anything comes up. And Kaito?"

"Yeah?"

"Congratulations," Kaoru says quietly.

"Thank you."

"Candy just emailed me back; you have a meeting with her tomorrow at seven am to go over strategy. We'll do a spread of interviews over the next few weeks and an exclusive with P— magazine. You've been off and on seeing each other since you were teenagers, and finally got impatient with your long distance relationship and decided to wed while he was here."

Kaito frowns. "Is that really the best we've got?"

"On such short notice, yes. You're the one that rushed to the altar. In any case, make sure he knows the story, all right? You'll have to coordinate and make sure we're all on the same page."

"Fine," Kaito says. "Oh, one thing, while I have you on the line, that director? Are they still interested?"

"Are you kidding? This just made them all the more eager to have you. You're generating a lot of publicity right now, and good or bad, it helps ratings."

"Tell them I accept," he says. "And I'm picky about who I work with. Tell them I refuse to work with O'Donaghue, and if they want me they'll have to let him go."

"Really, Kaito? I know he's obnoxious, but you're usually more professional than this. It's not like you to be petty."

"Will you do it or not?" He asks, examining his nails.

"Of course. Why?"

"I have my reasons," he says, thinking of Ms. Ruby, hanging up. He'll worry about it later, Kaito decides. "Worth it," he says to the wall.

"I've been lookin' for you," the wall replies.

Kaito blinks, stares at it a moment, then turns to find a pretty brunette lady in a pale blue dress, hair pulled back with a robin-colored ribbon.

"Hello? I don't believe we've met?" Kaito says, leading.

"We ain't," she says. " But you met my husband. I'm Hattori Kazuha, so you better call me Kazuha, or it might get confusin.'"

Kaito bows. He unsheathes a rose out of his sleeve, hands it to her as he rises. "A pretty flower for a pretty lady. I'm happy to oblige, Kazuha-san. I'm Kuroba Kaito, but it's Kaito to a rare blossom such as you."

She blushes, a little taken aback, but quickly gets hold of herself. "I know. I didn't mean to, but I heard what you said. I dunno who you were talkin' to, but you were defendin' Shinichi-kun, so that makes you alright in my book."

"Thank you…?"

"But I do gotta ask you one question," Her face is determined, and she takes a deep breath as if to prepare herself.. "I know it's a little forward of me to ask—" Kaito tenses. Here it comes again. The third-degree. His reasons for marrying Shinichi. Possibly another threat. "—but how are ya doin?'"

What? "What?" He repeats out loud.

She twists her hands. "I know we just met an' all, an' it's not really my place, but are ya all right?"

Kaito can't help it; he starts laughing. Kazuha confused and a little worried. She reaches out to him, but he waves her off, other hand on his chest, rubbing at his heart, overwhelmed. "That is not a question I expected anyone here to ask me. No, my dear, I am not. But with people like you asking about me, I think I will be." He inclines his head. "You really are too kind." Then he thinks better of it, and bows low. "Thank you for taking care of him."

"I didn't really," she says, her hands up.

"You did, and more than you know, just by being there and supporting him." For accepting Kaito, just because Shinichi had. So many of Shinichi's friends care dearly for him; even if Shinichi's heart was aching, how could he ever want to leave them for someone like him?

"Oh, no!" Kazuha groans. "Excuse me, but I think I need to go stop this 'fore it becomes a scene."

And oh, there's Hattori, looking vaguely annoyed. Kaito sidles over, only to find him arguing vehemently with a face he honestly never thought he'd see again: one Hakuba Saguru.

"They know each other?"

"'Know's a strong word. 'Acquainted' is probably better. Why, d'you know him?"

"He was a high school classmate. Why's he here?"

"He's a friend of Ran's. They went to university together. Small world," Kazuha observes.

"Isn't it? I take it they don't get along?" Kaito asks, his estimation of Hattori Heiji growing greatly. Anyone who annoyed Hakuba that much couldn't be that bad, even if it was another detective.

"Ya think?" Kazuha says as their argument grows loud enough they can almost hear the words.

"How does he know Hattori?"

"Met on a case, an' disagreed with each other's methods. Loudly."

If he annoys Hattori, then Shinichi's other best friend really can't be that bad at all. In fact, what kind of man would he be if he didn't assist a friend of a friend in need?

Kaito grins.

IV.

"Ugh, Hakuba? Really?" Kuroba wrinkles his nose. "Years of blissful freedom, and I have to see your ugly face here?"

Saguru blinks, startled. "Kuroba? What are you doing here?" He heard he was famous now, working as a magician in Las Vegas, but he hadn't actually looked into it yet. An oversight that is coming back to haunt him, though in all good reason, this is one of the last places he would have ever expected him to be. He still has those roguishly good looks, and he doesn't look like age has touched him at all, which is a little unfair.

Kuroba plops down in a chair, puts dirty shoed feet on the white tablecloth. "I'm crashing the reception, duh. What are you doing here?"

Saguru bristles. "I'm a friend of the bride."

Kuroba sniffs, pops the top of a cola that appears from somewhere unseen, and pours it into a champagne flute procured from his rumpled coat. "Huh. And here I thought Ran had some taste." He takes a long drink.

Saguru starts to say something, then he catches what Kuroba had said. "'Ran?' Why are you speaking of her so familiarly?"

Kuroba laughs, an infuriating sound. "I wonder. Why do people speak to each other with familiarity?" he tilts his head, rubbing his chin, thinking. "It's usually because they know one another, Detective. Elementary," he says, waving his finger at him.

The phrase makes Saguru narrow his eyes. "Seriously. What are you doing here?"

Kuroba rocks back in the chair, precariously balancing, putting his hands behind his head. "I live here. What are you doing here?"

Hattori's mouth is hanging open. "I see," he says finally, looking between him and Kuroba. "How about I let you two catch up?"

"Drinks later, Heiji, Kazuha-chan?" Kuroba asks, winking at the hot-headed Osakan, holding out his fist.

"Sure thing!" Hattori's wife says, bumping it, whispering something in his ear that sounds suspiciously like a 'Thank you.'

Hattori stares at him for a moment, looks between Kaito and Kazuha, and then fistbumps him as well. "Why the hell not, Kaito?" He puts emphasis on his name. That's fair. "I owe ya one anyway. Two now, I guess."

He goes to say something else, but his wife is already pulling him away by the sleeve of his jacket, leaving Saguru alone with Kuroba, who grins up at him. He feels a headache blossoming. Hattori AND Kuroba, friends? Or at least friendly enough to be on a first name basis? It's like his own personal nightmare. He surreptitiously checks himself for dye or bugs as per habit whenever he's in Kuroba's vicinity.

"Kuroba," Saguru says.

"Hakuba," Kuroba says.

Silence. Saguru shifts. "I see you managed to do well for yourself."

"Well enough," Kuroba says. "I see you're still looking like a Burberry reject."

Saguru sighs. "Must we fall into the old familiar patterns of juvenile antagonism, Kuroba? I thought we'd gotten past that in our last conversation." He had been willing to partake in a conversation that certainly strained the edges of plausible deniability about his former nighttime antics, should Saguru have been so inclined to follow up on it.

"You're right." Saguru's eyebrows raise past his hairline. "Very well." Kuroba inclines his head. "My sincerest apologies."

Floundering at the easy apology, Saguru desperately searches for a topic to fill the awkward silence, eventually falling back on the old British standby.

"The rain the other day was a bit unusual for this area, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was," Kuroba says. "Whatever else you can say, sunny days are almost always a given here." More silence as they both search for something to say. " So are you an inspector, now?"

"Detective Sergeant for the Met."

"You're in London now? Really?"

"Japan was never meant to be permanent."

"You went to university there, though." Kuroba seems confused. Saguru wonders why. Surely Aoko would have made mention of it, since to his knowledge they talk on a regular basis.

"You weren't there," Saguru says. It's not quite an accusation. Not quite. "I had no real reason to stay once Kaitou Kid ceased his heists," he says quietly.

Kuroba snorts. "Not even for Aoko?" It's spoken with a deceptive nonchalance, but Kuroba's gaze is hard. Saguru wonders how much she told him about that. Probably everything.

But "I wasn't who she really wanted. You know that," is all he says. Saguru is a man of many things, but he'd rather not be second-best to a memory.

"Do I?" Kuroba murmurs. "I'm not so sure."

Deeply uncomfortable, Saguru looks to change the topic. "Are you American now, then?"

Kuroba shakes his head. "Permanent resident."

"Your friendship with Ran-san and Hattori? I'd rather wondered at it considering your previous diatribes against detectives, especially since as far as I am aware, you've had little to no contact with them." He'd rather thought that at the end of it all, they'd been something approaching friends. If some of Saguru's bitterness comes out, Kuroba doesn't heed it.

Instead, he smiles almost enigmatically and says, "It's just a pleasant consequence of a different acquaintance," and looks past Saguru.

Saguru turns to see what has caught his attention.

"Kaito! There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you!" It's Kudō Shinichi, looking harried with sweat is beading down his face. Saguru has seen him well put together in even the direst of circumstances, so this is a very unexpected development. "You vanished!"

Kuroba gestures to himself. "Illusionist!"

"But that doesn't mean you had to disappear on me! I thought you'd—" he looks down.

Only ages of looking for Kid in Kuroba's expressions lets Saguru catch the brief flash pain on his face before it gives way to a pout. "Nag, nag, nag!" Kuroba lets out a big, exaggerated sigh. "Marriage has already taken all the magic out of our relationship. Literally." He sets his chair back down, gets up.

What? "What do you mean, marriage?" Saguru demands.

"Oh, Hakuba. Didn't see you there," Kudō says, startled. He looks between him and Kuroba. "You two know each other?" He says, his expression a combination of amusement and surprise.

"Yes," Saguru says at the same time Kuroba says, "Unfortunately."

"I see," says Kudō. "Well, that's certainly interesting."

Kuroba waves him away. "It's old news. We were classmates or something. I haven't seen this guy in ages and he's here, crashing Ran's reception, Shinichi," he tattletales like a child. He even pouts, crossing his arms and turning his head in a huff.

Saguru's ire starts to build, but it stops when Kudō says, "He can't crash it if he was invited, Kaito." Confusion replaces it. "He was. You weren't."

"I'm a plus one!" Kuroba says, offended. "That counts! You're just angry because I didn't agree with you this morning about The Sign of Four."

"There's no way The Hound of the Baskervilles is a better novel," Kudō says, annoyed. "You just said that to be contrary."

Wait, what?

"Well, you said I couldn't count Arsené Lupin versus Sherlock Holmes!"

"We've had this discussion before! It's Herlock Sholmes! It's not written by Doyle!"

"You're only saying that because you can't read it in the original French, mon amour."

"Give me a dictionary and a week," Kudō says. "Besides, it still doesn't make it a Holmes novel."

"Does too!"

Since when does Kuroba: one, read in French and two, read Holmes enough to have an opinion? He opens his mouth to comment on that particularly, but what comes out is "You're married? To him?"

Kuroba frowns, "You're still stuck on that?" He claps his hands together three times. "Keep up, Hakuba!" He shakes his head. "Still so slow. In any case, it has Holmes in it, so it definitely counts, querido."

"What's with the terms of endearment all of the sudden?" Kudō says, narrowing his eyes.

"Well, I was just thinking you needed some romance in your life, carissimo, what with the magic gone already, so I thought I would speak in a Romance language or two."

"It still doesn't make it a Holmes novel," Kudō says, crossing his arms, but there's a faint blush on his cheeks.

Kuroba leans in, adjusting his clothing in an impossibly short amount of time, making Kudō look presentable."What's so wrong with a dog coated in phosphorus, anyway?"

"Too close to reality. I have had enough of glowing dogs and murders over inheritance both. You would think the novel involving stolen treasure, adventure, and disguise would be more to your taste."

"Too close to reality. Although now that you've brought it up, why is that one your favorite?" Kuroba asks, grinning.

Kudō's blush deepens, Kuroba laughs, and Saguru clears his throat.

"Something you'd finally like to admit to me, Kuroba?" he says, hands in his pockets. They'd both completely forgotten about him.

The smile falls from his face. "Yes, Hakuba. I do have something I need to tell you," Kuroba intones, countenance unquestionably serious. Wait a minute...is Kuroba actually going to admit to being Kid after all these years? It's only a matter of pride, now, but Saguru wonders what the motive is behind it. Surprise? A concession to an old rival? He walks over to Saguru, places a hand on his forearm. "I am afraid I cannot return your affections. I am a married man, now." He shakes his head. "To continue to pine after me would do a disservice to us both."

"I—But—" Saguru says, unable to voice just how wrong that assertion is. "Kuroba, that is the last thing—"

"I know unrequited love is hard," he says, interrupting the beginning of Saguru's tirade, not letting him get a word in edgewise, "but I have faith you'll make it through this no worse for the wear," Kuroba commiserates, nodding sagely. "You're a strong person."

That's what he gets for thinking Kuroba could ever be wholly serious about anything. But the easiest way to disarm Kuroba is to do something unexpected. So Saguru merely says, "Congratulations, and consider my suit herewith withdrawn." He lets out an exaggerated sigh, lips forming a moue. "Sadly, I will never be the same."

"What?" Kuroba says dumbly, gobsmacked, and it takes all of Saguru's control not to laugh. "You're not really—"

Saguru just smiles. It seems Kudō has him figured out, though, from the way their eyes meet and his mouth twitches.

It's a little strange, but not entirely unexpected. Kudō and Saguru always had an easy camaraderie.

Kudō Shinichi had been a friend of Ran's, and she had been the one to introduce them. He'd become reacquainted with her in a class on Criminal Law, and she'd impressed him with her knowledge.

And more than anything else, she'd understood him on a level no one else ever had. It turned out Kudō Shinichi had partially been the cause for that, as well as having an attorney for a mother and nearly a lifetime of being surrounded by detectives, both public and private. So she knew how they thought and was more than able to deal with any idiosyncrasies. A skill she also used on her job as a diplomat.

Kudō had been a little cold at first, likely from his pre existing friendship with Hattori, but they had enough commonalities that it quickly settled into a firm friendship, for all they didn't associate often.

Saguru wonders how they met. Other than Aoko, Kuroba avoided the circles in which people like Kudō and Saguru moved, a remnant of his previous lifestyle, surely. He wonders if Kudō knows about Kid. Surely he must if Kuroba was so open as to allude to it, he decides.

"Well, well, well," Kuroba says. "I might be able to find it in myself to respect you after all. You've finally gotten a sense of humor."

Saguru lets himself smile. "Will wonders never cease?" His smile falls, though, as he says "Kuroba, whatever has happened in the past between us—" Kuroba tenses like Saguru knew he would, considering Aoko, considering that last heist of his "—You know you can contact me, right? If you need anything?" He holds out his business card like an olive branch.

Kuroba stares at it for a long moment with a pensive expression. Saguru doesn't expect him to take it.

He does, squirrelling it away in an inside pocket. "Thanks," he says softly. "I appreciate it."

Kuroba nods.

Kudō then tugs on his sleeve. "C'mon Kaito, we need to go before my mother comes back."

"What's so wrong—"

Kudō's hand settles around Kuroba's hip as he pulls him flush to his side and says in a low voice, "Trust me. We don't want to be here. Unless you like squealing and having to endure an hours-long interrogation."

Kuroba looks thoughtful. "Depends on who's doing it, I guess."

Kudō sputters.

Feeling a bit lighter in heart after the closure, Saguru walks away, leaving them to it. It seems they've already forgotten him.

He thinks about his and Kudō's mutual love for Holmes, and Kuroba's disdain for the fictional detective in the past, and his now admittance to having read one of the works. Or several, as it were, enough to have favorites and opinions.

It is easy to see Kuroba as the same person he'd tracked down in high school, but people change. People grow in unexpected ways.

Hmm. He'd forgotten. For some reason, he had immortalized Kuroba just as he'd been the last time he'd seen him: that defiant smirk, that cape fluttering behind him as he disappeared. For some reason, it had slipped his mind that he'd grown and changed in that time.

It's almost humbling, how easily he'd still let Kuroba manipulate his emotions; even after all this time, the man knew what buttons to press to cause him to react without thinking.

But this…

Saguru shakes his head and puts it out of his mind; there are people to talk to, things to discuss, and a friend to congratulate.

V.

"To be honest, I can think of better ways to spend our last few moments together," Shinichi says, linking their hands together. He doesn't play the flirt. It's not easy for him to reach out, to take the lead like this. But maybe he doesn't need to.

Kaito's playing with his bowtie, already very interested. "Oh? I think I might like this idea."

Before they can sneak out of the banquet hall, Hattori calls out to him. "Hey, Kudō!"

Shinichi freezes.

"You're about to skip out again," Hattori says as he walks up to them. But it doesn't sound like a chastisement. It sounds like resignation.

"Was I really that obvious?" Shinichi says, wincing.

"You're a newlywed, however unconventional," Hattori says. "So yeah. You were very, very obvious," he says with an exaggerated wince. "There're some things I don't need to know about ya, Kudō."

Shinichi pinks as Kaito starts laughing at him.

He turns to Kaito "And you, bein' all familiar with me like that," Hattori grumbles. "I get why you did it, but I can't believe you know that guy," Hattori says. Shinichi can't believe it either. It's a small world. Too small.

"Well—" Kaito begins.

Hattori waves him off. "Don't wanna hear it. Anyway, Kudō, why don't you head off?"

"Hattori, are you trying to get rid of me?" Shinichi asks him.

"Sure. One less rival," Hattori jokes, then he sobers up. "We got a long flight ahead of us, and work after that. Go spend some time together, okay? While you can. I'll make your excuses."

"Thanks, Hattori." He thought he'd disapproved. This is completely unexpected, but Shinichi is grateful.

"Yeah, yeah. Consider it my weddin' present or whatever," Hattori says, crossing his arms.

"You ca-a-re~" Kaito singsongs, stretching out the syllables, picking Hattori up in a tight hug and twirling him around, pinning his arms to his chest so he can't escape.

"Hey!" Hattori yelps, but Kaito has already put him down and darted out of reach of retaliation as Hattori pulls back his arm as if to punch him. Shinichi has to fight not to laugh. Hattori's face…

It's also a great show of strength, and Shinichi feels heat rise to his face as he imagines Kaito lifting him like that, so easily, the other ways that particular skill could be put to good use.

"Go on, get outta here!" Hattori says, irritated with the both of them but fighting a smile, and Kaito complies happily, pulling Shinichi along.

And so ends their time at the reception, and soon the day fades into night. Shinichi's hard pressed to remember any of the passage of time, blurred together in broken fragments and stolen, slow kisses. He has to leave in the morning. He can't avoid it. He has to close the pages of his life back in Tokyo; it's not in Shinichi's nature to up and leave it all behind, as much as he is very tempted right now. He doesn't want to leave.

After a few pleasant hours spent in bed, Kaito pulls him to the roof of the casino. A day married to the Kaitou Kid and Shinichi is already breaking laws, technically trespassing. He thinks he should feel some kind of way about it but he really, really doesn't.

He can't even bring himself to care. He's in Kaito's arms, back against his chest, Kaito's thighs on either side of his hips, his arms settled low about Shinichi's waist, and they're watching the bright lights of the city below, a gleaming jewel on its own. The flickering of taillights, the flash of neon in the distance, drowning out the stars above. Yet looking up at the sky, it could be any city, anywhere, and it's almost comforting in its vastness. Shinichi feels small, safe tucked into his arms.

Shinichi is warm, and the night is starting to get cool, so he leans all his weight back against Kaito. His chest is broad, and he can feel it expand as he breathes. He has to soak up as much of it as he can now because soon he'll be back in Tokyo in an empty home with nothing but cases to look forward to. So very little time left.

"I thought you left me earlier when I was talking with Ran," Shinichi says.

"I did."

"I meant for good." Shinichi shifts out of his arms, turning towards him, wanting to see his expression.

"I wouldn't have." Kaito's face is unbearably, painfully soft, hand finding his and entwining their fingers together in a lover's tie. "I made a promise. But whatever else you can say about me, I'm only human," Kaito says. "You can't ask me—I didn't forget how we met again. I'm allowed to be upset about it."

"It's not Ran's fault. It's mine," Shinichi protests.

"No," Kaito corrects gently, "it's no one's fault. And that's what makes this situation so terrible. We can't help who we are, or how we feel. We're all stumbling around in the dark, blind, hoping that one day the stars will align and bring us happiness," Kaito says. "Happiness is a matter of chance, not choice."

"That's a bit cynical, isn't it?" Shinichi says.

"I don't think so. Contentment is a choice. Resignation is a choice," Kaito says. "Happiness? It's a gift."

"Are you happy, then?" Shinichi asks. He has to know. But at the same time, he's not sure he wants to. It's not like he's inclined to think negatively of him, and he had promised to stay, but the fear had been overwhelming when he wasn't able to find Kaito in the crowd.

Kaito twists the corner of his lip. "I think I have the chance to be," he says.

"I thought I'd made you leave," Shinichi says quietly.

"I wouldn't leave you, not without a word first," Kaito says after a long pause.

"You did once."

"As Kid? I wasn't aware I owed you anything, then."

"You didn't," Shinichi admits. "But it felt that way."

"Much like my idle wonderings about a certain little detective, I'm sure."

"I don't suppose you owe me anything now," Shinichi says.

"I made a promise to you. I'll always come back," Kaito says. He presses his forehead against Shinichi's. "I told you I wasn't going anywhere," he murmurs. "I meant it, tesoro mio. A gentleman keeps his promises."

"Hey Kaito?" Shinichi asks as they're still close.

"Hmm?"

"Would you ever consider it?" Shinichi asks, thinking back to the duality between Kaito's performance and the man himself, the way he seemed to shadow his past self in a pantomime.

"I'm afraid I don't follow."

"Returning to the stage as Kid," Shinichi says, and he fears he misstepped when he sees Kaito tense, taut as a bowstring.

He knows he misstepped when Kaito draws back and says heatedly, "If this really was some long plot to entrap me, so help me—"

That raises Shinichi's own ire. "It's not! That doesn't even make logical sense. Wouldn't that implicate me, seeing as how I married you?"

"Even if you notified a superior in advance? Or maybe you didn't figure it out until we were already married, perhaps. There is a line for every hook."

"Even if I did, how would I ever explain Conan were you ever to go public?"

"Like anyone would believe me if I did; you still hold all the cards. Besides, there's no sense in going through all this. I'd willingly turn myself in if you asked!" Kaito says, breathing hard, voice rising. "I'm tired!" he shouts. "I'm tired of this," he repeats much more quietly.

"There are enough people who would believe you it would make my life miserable," Shinichi says. "And despite all that, wouldn't I have already told someone if I wanted to? We've already had this conversation. We talked about trust. You chose to trust me. I chose to honor that trust and trust you in return. At this point, isn't it just retreading old ground?" Kaito searches his eyes; Shinichi meets them.

"Then why would you ask that?" Kaito says. "We've talked about this as well, but you're still questioning my motives."

"I'm not!"

"You are!"

"I just want to see you perform again, okay?" Shinichi blurts out. "And not whatever that was last night."

"That's a world-class show," Kaito says, voice soft. "I thought you said you enjoyed it." He sounds hurt, and Shinichi can't take it anymore.

"I did enjoy it!" Shinichi said. "It was one of the best I've ever seen, and you know those words aren't empty flattery, not coming from me. But Kaito, did you enjoy it?" Shinichi runs both hands through his hair, messing it up, shifts abruptly to his feet, stalks away to the edge of the building. "You were a shadow of yourself up there, and I hated it. I hated seeing you that way." He whirls on his heel; Kaito looks like Shinichi slapped him. "That buried Merlin award, those words you said to me yesterday about rising stars. I'm not stupid, Kaito."

"I never claimed you were."

"Then don't treat me like I am. You told me yourself it was who you were."

"There are so many things you do not know."

"Then tell me."

"You wouldn't understand."

"You don't know that. You can't make that decision for me."

"But you can make that decision for other people?"

Ran. "You're right," Shinichi admits. "I'm a hypocrite. But don't deflect. Is happiness a chance, really? If you could return to your heists without consequences, would you?"

"I do miss them," Kaito says after a long pause.

"That's not a yes or no, Kaito."

"What would stop you from turning me in?"

"Trust. I can't claim to know everything about your situation, but even back then I knew you were looking for something. You clearly found it, or else why would you have stopped? Did you even want to stop? What changed?"

Kaito purses his lips, looks away. "I changed. The gravity of what you're asking, Shinichi."

"I can't believe I'm asking you either. I shouldn't encourage it, but when was the last time you had fun? When was the last time you let yourself go?"

"This morning with you," Kaito says with a crooked grin.

Shinichi blushes, losing his words for a moment, but he soldiers gamely on. "When was the last time you were truly yourself? Your audience can't tell, but I can. I know you. Maybe not very well, maybe not all the details, but I have seen you perform when you are at your best, and last night wasn't it. If I hadn't had anything to compare it to, maybe I wouldn't have seen that your heart wasn't really in it. But I did. You're a ghost of yourself."

"I wasn't as skilled then," Kaito muses. "And you're saying you prefer those to a show that's been sold out for six months?"

"Yes," Shinichi says with feeling.

"You realize that by asking me to even consider it, you're encouraging me to break the law."

"I'm not saying it doesn't concern me, but I just want you to be happy," he says, thinking back to Kaito's earnest plea in that diner. He's surprised by how much he means it. "If this is what it takes—" Shinichi will help. Or at least look the other way. He can do that much for a thief that never really meant any harm.

Kaito kisses him. Shinichi's not expecting it, so their teeth clack together and their noses bump, Shinichi yelps but kisses back. He doesn't think he's ever had such an unromantic kiss in his life.

He loves it.

"I'd have to change everything," Kaito says. "Invent new tricks. It's one thing for Kuroba Kaito to imitate Phantom Thief Kid, it's another thing altogether if Kaitou Kid starts imitating Kuroba Kaito." His voice is nonchalant, but he's vibrating with pent-up energy, gesturing with big sweeping motions.

"Wouldn't you enjoy the challenge?" Shinichi asks.

"This is all hypothetical anyway," Kaito says. "Aoko and her father know. Hattori knows. Hakuba knows. Even if you don't turn me in, what's keeping them from doing it?"

So the former inspector does know and hadn't done anything about it either. Interesting. It only proves his point further. "I don't think Hakuba would have offered you his help if he would. Hattori won't, especially if I explain. If he wouldn't turn me in when he suspected me of murder, he won't. He likes you, surprisingly."

"...I'm not going to ask for details, but there's a slight problem with that: there was no conceivable way you were guilty. I am."

"You have a lot of faith in me to say that so quickly," Shinichi says, amusement in his tone.

"Detective," Kaito begins, then he stops and lets out a sigh.

"So you're back to that?" Shinichi asks.

"People are complicated, messy creatures. Hurting one another, being hurt, it's all a part of living in this world. No matter how hard you try, arguments and disagreements will happen. People are never true, even to themselves."

"What are you saying?" Shinichi asks.

"Ghosts should stay dead, Shinichi. I have nothing to gain from resurrecting an old phantom."

"Except your happiness. Except a piece of yourself."

"Shinichi," Kaito pleads, pained. "You are the embodiment of temptation itself."

"'Do you ever just lack?'" Shinichi quotes. "'Who mourns an illusion?'"

"I didn't realize you remembered anything from that night."

"It's coming back in bits and pieces," Shinichi says.

"But Shinichi, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying I do. If this is going to ever work between us, I don't want a front. I don't want some kind of self-flagellating martyrdom. I want you. However you are, whoever you are, in whatever form that makes you happiest. Happiness isn't chance. It's a choice. You have to work for it. And maybe some people have to work harder than others, but that only makes achieving it all the sweeter. Tell me you honestly wouldn't be happier performing as Kid again, and I'll drop it and never mention it again."

Kaito just stares at him, quiet.

"Tell me, Kaito."

"I can't," Kaito admits. "I want to, but..." he trails off.

Shinichi narrows his eyes. "You didn't make some kind of promise to Nakamori-san you wouldn't, did you?"

"No!"

"Then other than legalities, what's holding you back?"

"I never thought you'd be the one advocating for theft."

"You claimed you were a thief, but I'm not so sure. What is a thief that doesn't steal?" Shinichi asks.

"I steal the hearts of millions when I perform. That's good enough for me."

"Kaito," Shinichi moves closer, wraps his arms around him. "What's holding you back?"

"My schedule?" Kaito jokes. "No, but seriously, when will I find the time to research potential jewels, infiltrate security, stage heists, fulfill my social obligations, and do my actual job?"

Shinichi reaches into Kaito's pocket, pulls out his monocle and puts it on. "I have an idea."

"Are you saying—"

"Suits me pretty well, doesn't it? Of course, I only know a few sleight of hand tricks, so you'll have to teach me more—"

Kaito hugs him tightly, putting his weight against him. Shinichi's knees buckle and they fall back against the rooftop, Kaito landing on top of him. Shinichi pulls him down for a kiss. "You'd do that for me?"

"Well, yeah, so long as we actually returned the jewels or whatever. I mean, if we minimize property damage and point out the flaws in security, they should actually be happy. Theoretically." If it made him happy, it would be worth it.

"Ah, detective! I love you!" Kaito says, nuzzling into his shoulder. Shinichi can feel him smile against his neck.

Shinichi's eyes soften, and he tightens his grip around him, looking at the fading light of a falling star shooting across the sky. "I love you too."