OH MY GOD I'M BACK. Sorry it's been eighteen million years since I last posted! I was really busy with real life.

This is basically pure, ridiculous fluff. Warnings include shounen-ai, grammar mistakes / general errors (because I'm too lazy to proofread), a general lack of plot, etc. Title from "The Fool" by Ryn Weaver.

Hope you enjoy! - Luna

Stack the Deck with Wild Cards

It was a Friday morning. Shinichi was on the verge of cranking his jaw open like a python and swallowing the entire takeout cup of coffee he'd scavenged from the coffee shop across the street when Satou materialized beside Shinichi's desk. She was glowing in a mysterious, sadistic way that Shinichi could somehow tell was likely unrelated to her recent honeymoon and more related to holding something over his head. He set down his cup of coffee mournfully.

"Inspector Satou," he said, cautious. "What can I do for you?"

Satou just grinned at him. In fact, she stood there grinning for a full twenty seconds until Shinichi made a move to pick up the case file he'd been looking at. Then she grabbed his wrist—tight enough that Shinichi swore he could feel bones grinding together—and tossed a card onto his desk, aggressively, as if she were throwing down a gauntlet.

Shinichi extricated his hand carefully—Satou's grip was the equivalent of a bear trap—before he picked it up, all the while casting Satou irate looks that hopefully conveyed his displeasure. (He sort of wished he hadn't known her since he was sixteen, because maybe then she'd at least pretend to be intimidated. As it was, she just gave him a look that made him hurriedly turn his attention to the card.)

The card was made of sturdy off-white cardstock and slightly scuffed around the edges, as if it had been handed off between many people. In neat, familiar typeface, it read, "Tomorrow at 21:00, I will be waiting for my prince at the Beika Art Gallery underneath the moonlight. Please don't keep me waiting, my dear detective." There was a Kid mark neatly drawn underneath it. Shinichi flipped it open to find that the back was blank, save for a tiny ballpoint heart in one corner.

When Shinichi glanced up, Satou was watching him with an expectant smile. Shinichi abruptly felt as if he'd missed a blatantly obvious stage cue. The longer he looked at her, the more uncomfortable he felt.

"This is a heist notice," he said after a moment, deciding to go with the obvious. Satou nodded. Her smile grew by a few molars. Shinichi hesitated to return it. Frowning, he turned the card back over in his hand and tilted his head to one side, rereading the darkly printed text. Huh. My prince. He arched an eyebrow up at Satou. "Is there any jewel on display at the art gallery that has to do with princes?"

"Are you kidding?" Satou's smile evaporated.

"No?"

Satou stared at him for a long, calculating second—Shinichi felt himself shrinking slowly down into his chair—before she smacked him on the back of the head, hard enough that his forehead bashed against the edge of his desk. Shinichi physically felt himself lose several hundred brain cells.

"Um, ow," he snapped, affronted, the moment he stopped seeing white spots in his vision and managed to lift his head. He gave Satou a dark, distrustful look, one that Satou seemed entirely unbothered by. "May I ask what that was for?"

"Obviously," Satou hissed, "this is his way of saying that he wants to steal you, Kudou-kun." When Shinichi blinked at her, she rolled her eyes and added, impatient, "He addresses it to you at the end, doesn't he? It's pretty clear that he wants you to meet him at the art gallery tomorrow so he can confess his love." She shook her head at him, clearly disgusted. "Obviously."

Shinichi squinted at her, wary. He'd had the sneaking suspicion that that she was one of the few members of the first division who actually read and enjoyed the Kid x Kudou fan fiction that Yumi liked to leave in obscure places (like behind the coffeemaker and in the paper towel dispensers in the men's bathroom, as Shinichi had discovered for himself) to be found by unsuspecting officers. Satou regularly took forty-minute coffee breaks, and nobody took coffee breaks that long unless they were reading about their coworker's fictional, torrid affair. This whole conversation was only affirming that notion. He rubbed uncomfortably at the doubtlessly darkening bruise on his forehead.

"I don't think that's –" he started hesitantly.

"They found it in the comments and concerns box, the one that's specifically for the first division," Satou interrupted with relish, as if she was laying out a royal flush. Shinichi just frowned.

"We have a comments and concerns box?"

"What? Oh, yeah, we usually just get supermarket fliers and a few death threats, that's not the point, focus, Kudou-kun," Satou said dismissively, waving a hand. "The point is that this is the flamboyant criminal equivalent of leaving a love letter in your shoebox, saying he'll meet you underneath a tree at five so he can confess his love for you amidst the cherry blossoms as the sun sets behind you."

Inexplicably, Shinichi abruptly recalled the time he'd found three volumes of shoujo manga in the backseat of Satou's FD. At the time, she'd claimed they were Takagi's, and Shinichi had believed her, since it seemed marginally more likely, but now he wasn't so sure. He squinted appraisingly at Satou as she gestured at the card in his hand.

"I really don't think it's going to be that, uh… romantic or whatever when the entire Kid task force is wandering around the building," he began, but then Satou raised one hand, threatening, and he closed his mouth with an audible click. He'd seen assault rifles less intimidating. Satou nodded once, looking pleased as she lowered her hand.

"I'll take care of Nakamori." Shinichi gulped at the steely look in her eyes, hoping she didn't mean permanently, and then flinched back when she announced, "You're going," with finality before she skipped off, heels clicking merrily as she went. Shinichi watched her go, a little forlorn. He had no idea what it was about her that inspired a literal fan club/defense squad amongst the ranks. She was basically the last person who needed protection.

Shinichi turned his attention back to the card once Satou had disappeared into the hallway, rubbing his thumb absently across the lettering. He was going to have to look into what jewel-related exhibits were currently open at the art gallery, because there had to be something related to princes. Satou was definitely (probably, maybe) wrong about Kid meaning him. This was Kid, after all. Kid didn't go for guys like him.

Kaito often liked to think that he'd gotten the hang of the whole Dashing Gentleman Thief thing, after nearly seven years of doing it. He could pick most locks in under a minute, and he had at least the third the biggest fan club in Japan, the membership of which was skewed disproportionately towards girls in their teens and twenties. He'd gone through three variant designs of his hang glider, and he had dodging the Kid task force down to an art. At this point, Kaito was fairly confident that he could write and send heist notes in his sleep.

But he was also sure that he hadn't. Sent a heist note in his sleep, he meant.

Blinking, he frowned down at the screen of his phone. Nope, the headline hadn't changed; the article stared back at him, unmoved. It still read "Kaitou Kid Makes Promise to Meet Longtime Rival Kudou Shinichi Privately!", and it still detailed (via a "Tokyo police force insider") that Kid had sent Kudou Shinichi a "private heist note."

Kaito did not recall doing that.

Frowning, Kaito rubbed at the back of his neck and scrolled down to read the rest of the article. He was supposed to meet Shinichi at a "local art exhibition" at "a romantic hour." What the hell was a romantic hour? Sunset? Sunrise? Kaito glared down at the screen.

There was a clink of porcelain to wood as Aoko set down her mug and dropped heavily into the chair across from him. Kaito nodded at her, too caught up in the article to look up. He saw her sigh and take a sip of her tea.

"Well, I feel loved. That's a great way to welcome for your best friend of eighteen years." Kaito ignored her.

"What's a 'romantic hour'? Is there some particularly romantic time of the day that I didn't know about?" he asked, scrolling listlessly down to the comment section. They were all some variation of OMG SO CUTE! from people with usernames like SHINKAI5EVER. At least someone thought Kaito was actually smooth enough to get with Kudou Shinichi. Kaito was good, but he wasn't that good. As much as he wished he was.

"Why are you asking?" Aoko replied warily, one eyebrow arched. "Is this when you finally tell me who it is you've been mooning over for the past four years? Because I'm starting to run out of guesses."

"Because I—there's supposed to be a Kid heist thing tomorrow at a 'romantic hour,'" Kaito said, tossing his phone down on the tabletop with a clatter. He sat back in his seat, scowling. "Kid's supposed to meet with Kudou Shinichi." And Shinichi would go, because he could never resist a mystery. Which meant Kaito was going to have to figure out where the heist was being held and put an end to it, because he couldn't have people calling Shinichi out under false pretenses, and also he had gotten to the point where he'd take any chance to interact with Shinichi. He sighed gustily.

"Oh." Aoko's eyebrows were high on her forehead. She reached out to put a hand on top of his. Her expression turned sympathetic. "Listen, Kaito… I've been thinking this for a long time, but I think you should give up on Kid."

"What?" Kaito squinted at her, suddenly sweaty along the temples. Did she know? Was she going to tell him to stop being Kid? He went cold all over. Had she told her father? Because Kaito really was enjoying not being in jail –

"Before, I thought the hero worship would go away, but now you're really starting to worry me. I don't think you two would work out in a relationship, considering how similar you are to each other." Aoko was nodding understandingly like a prison psychiatrist from a bad TV drama. "I think it's for the best that you –"

"What?" Kaito repeated, continuing to stare blankly at her as his brain stalled. Then it hit him, and he gaped at her, stuck between horrified and bewildered. "Wait, what? You think I have a crush on Kid?" That was a level of egotism that even Kaito hadn't achieved.

Aoko paused, platitude halfway delivered. "Um… aren't you? You weren't getting jealous because Kid's making a pass at someone else?"

"No, I'm in love with Kudou Shinichi," Kaito said, disbelieving. "Are you telling me that you seriously thought I had a crush on Kid this whole time?"

"Kudou Shinichi?" Aoko looked alarmed. "What do you even like about him?" She got a cagey look in her eyes. "Is this some kind of weird thing where you have feelings for Hakuba, but you project them onto another random Kid-chasing police detective? Because I don't think Hakuba is ever going to go for you." Kaito stared at her, horrified.

"Okay, um, now I'm going to have to boil my brain in bleach. What the hell, Aoko? No, I'm not projecting my feelings for your boyfriend onto someone else." He shuddered, feeling abruptly and intensely nauseated. Hakuba. Feelings for Hakuba, with his falcon and his deerstalker and his face—oh God. Kaito choked and lurched upwards. "I'm going to throw up. I'm actually going to throw up. I hate you." He was halfway out of his chair when Aoko snagged his forearm and yanked him back down.

"Wait, no, seriously, though? You're actually in love with Kudou Shinichi? Why? Isn't he just a guy who chases Kid around sometimes?" She was looking at him earnestly, clearly concerned in that caring, best-friend way that Kaito couldn't really bring himself to fault.

Sighing, Kaito made a face and sank slowly back into his seat. He couldn't think of a way of explaining it that didn't sound horribly stupid or as if Kaito was completely head over heels for him. He drew himself up and tried to think of an articulate, elegant way of calmly explaining why he was after a guy whose day job involved poking at dead bodies.

"I… he has… I like his eyes, and his smile, and… he's… he's smart." That was not what he'd meant to say. That was missing at least four clauses. That was embarrassing, undeniable proof that Kaito was completely stupid for Shinichi. Kaito closed his eyes.

"Oh." Aoko's expression went slightly strained, as if she was trying to hide a wince. She reached out to squeeze his shoulder. It was not the friendly, encouraging kind of squeeze you gave to a teammate after winning a soccer game. It was the kind of squeeze you gave to a man on death row the night before his execution when you were trying to convince him that the electric chair probably wouldn't hurt that much. "Well. That's, uh… that's pretty rough."

That summed up Kaito's life, basically.

Shinichi showed up at the Beika Art Gallery a solid thirty minutes before nine o'clock. The security guard at the door gave him a smile that was about eighty percent smirk as he let him in.

"Remember, there are surveillance cameras, so don't get too frisky with your boyfriend," he sing-songed, lascivious in a way that Shinichi was pretty sure was not appropriate by any stretch of the imagination. Shinichi just rolled his eyes and hurried into the gallery. He felt the guard watching his ass as he walked away.

The gallery was mostly empty, save for a group of staff members who were turning off exhibit lights and sweeping the floors. Shinichi sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair, and sat down on the stiff bench in front of a blobby oil painting of sunflowers. Beika Art Museum, as it had turned out after twenty minutes of research, was primarily focused on paintings and sculptures, not jewels with names like "The Prince," which meant that Satou was probably right about the note referring to him. He stared forlornly at the flowers. He was torn between feeling weirdly happy about it and feeling annoyed that Satou was actually right.

His phone buzzed at his hip. Shinichi pulled his phone out just in time to see a text from Satou (something about an "imminent love confession"?) disappear as his screen blacked out with a low battery warning. Great. His phone was dead.

With a groan, Shinichi stood up and stalked into the next exhibit, which featured a statue of an anatomically questionable mermaid poised on a rock overlooking an imaginary shore. Shinichi squinted at it, considering. He supposed he didn't exactly know how a fishtail would flow into a human spine, but he was pretty sure it wouldn't look like that.

"Kudou Shinichi?"

The sound of an unfamiliar voice startled Shinichi into turning around. There was a burly man standing there in the art gallery's all-black uniform, biceps very prominently on display. Shinichi's gaze flickered down. The man's shirt stretched across his chest, and his waistband threatened to cut off all circulation in his legs. Fantastic.

"I hate myself," Shinichi announced, rubbing his forehead. The man looked bewildered.

"Why?"

"Because obviously," snapped Shinichi, waspish, "I walked into a trap. A stupid, obvious trap." He was going to hold this over Satou's head forever. He wouldn't have even bothered coming if she hadn't insisted that this was Kid's idea of a big romantic gesture. Er. Probably.

"What was your first clue?" The man grinned. It was not the friendliest of expressions, especially paired with the sound of footsteps approaching as a group of men all wearing clearly stolen gallery uniforms and shit-eating grins appeared at the entrance to the display hall. The security guard from the door looked especially smug. None of them were armed, but there were at least fourteen of them. Shinichi suppressed a sigh.

"Your outfit's at least two sizes too small," he said. "And there definitely shouldn't have been this many workers still hanging around at this time of night, when the gallery's been closed for at least an hour and the Kid heist doesn't mention stealing anything from the building." He watched them wearily. "Are you going to hold me hostage? Or is this a kidnapping? Whatever you've heard, my parents don't pay ransoms –"

"Oh, no, no, you've got it all wrong," the burly man interrupted, waving a hand gleefully. "We've got enough hostages. Where do you think we got these uniforms?" He gestured at his outfit and cracked a predatory grin. Shinichi restrained the urge to roll his eyes, but only just barely, as the man continued. "We've got everyone who works here tied up in the basement. So, Kudou Shinichi, you'll do as we say unless you want their blood on your hands."

"Technically, they'd been on yours," Shinichi pointed out.

"I mean…" The guy hesitated. "Yeah, I guess, but that's not the point."

"Right." Shinichi sighed and allowed himself to be led towards the stairs leading to the second floor of the gallery. There was an unwieldy number of men around just to guard a few hostages and him, he noted.

The men pushed him into an exhibition hall wallpapered with an array of postmodernist art painted in colors bright enough that Shinichi's retinas cried for mercy. Ignoring the shove that one of the men gave him, Shinichi sat down primly on the uncomfortable bench facing a picture of an apple done in bright yellow and fuchsia and waited. When nothing happened, he turned to arch an eyebrow at the clump of men, who were now conversing at increasingly loud volumes among themselves.

"Aren't you going to tie me up?" he called dryly, crossing his arms.

"Uh…" The burly man pulled out of the huddle to give him a slightly apologetic look. "Suzuki was supposed to bring the rope, but he forgot." One of the men—presumably Suzuki—looked sulky, glaring at him.

"Shut up, I had a root canal. I can here straight from the dentist, you know. My jaw's still numb," he grumbled, probably not intending for Shinichi to hear him. The leader just gave him an unimpressed look.

"Oh my God," Shinichi muttered under his breath. He was being held hostage (kidnapped? annoyed? He wasn't entirely sure what the proper labeling was for what was happening to him) by incompetents. Scratch what he'd said earlier about telling Satou anything about this situation; he was the one who'd never live it down if any of this got out.

"So anyway," the burly man cut in, clearly trying to look intimidating, "we're just going to have to leave someone to watch over you while we, uh… go over our plans. When's she supposed to get here?" he added over his shoulder to his men. The question was met with a set of blank looks, and he sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "Someone should call her. We need an ETA."

"No, I'm scared," the guy next to Suzuki muttered in response. There was a murmur of agreement from his peers. Shinichi goggled. Who was "she"?

"Suzuki, you do it," the leader snapped—Suzuki squawked in outrage—before he turned back to Shinichi. "We're going to leave Takano here to guard you. Try anything, and the curators are dead. Got it?" He motioned at someone in the back, who made a sound of delight and shouldered his way up to the front as the rest of the men receded from the room. Shinichi's eyebrows twitched upwards. It was the security guard guy from the front door, and he was looking at Shinichi as if he were a shark and Shinichi was the unsuspecting herring who'd just swam out into the open.

Shinichi tried to hide his smirk. Perfect.

Kaito was starting to get annoyed. He'd visited every museum in the area, and none of them had displayed any signs of Kudou Shinichi, and he was tired and bored and on the verge of giving up and going home to sulk in front of the TV. Only the thought that Shinichi was being held ransom somewhere by a pseudo-Kid kept him going. Shinichi wasn't defenseless, obviously, and he'd probably castrate Kaito in short order if he so much as suspected that Kaito was thinking of him as someone who required saving, but Kaito couldn't help himself.

He broke the lock on the window with a little more force than strictly necessary. He wasn't entirely sure what museum this one was—Beika Art Gallery, maybe?—and he wasn't expecting to find anything even as he clambered through the window into an unlit exhibit hall, landing softly on his feet. The place was deserted—

Except, wait, no, he heard voices, improbably enough. Not deserted, then. Frowning, Kaito pulled the window shut silently and crept along the wall until he reached the entrance to the neighboring hall. He peered cautiously around the corner, expecting to see robbers yanking Monets off the walls.

Instead, he found Shinichi draped over a semi-attractive man in a security guard outfit. Shinichi was smiling coyly up at the man, fluttering his eyelashes. The man looked a bit shell-shocked, as if someone had clipped cables to his toes and tried to jump-start him. Kaito could definitely relate. He stared, mouth partway open, as Shinichi gave the man a look that wouldn't have been out of place in a low-budget porno.

"So, Ryou-san—can I call you Ryou-san?—tell me more about your boss," Shinichi purred (purred, actually purred; Kaito was torn between pinching himself to check he wasn't hallucinating and hurling himself off the nearest bridge). "What's she like?"

"Uh," Ryou said articulately. He looked a little distracted, which was no wonder, considering that one of Shinichi's hands had starting to slide slowly down his chest. Kaito was conflicted as to whether he wanted to stab Ryou or be Ryou. It was a very confusing feeling. "Um, she's… she's a…"

"Go on," Shinichi insisted, smiling sweetly. He dragged his fingertips over the hinge of Ryou's jaw. "Tell me." Ryou looked as if his brain was boiling inside his head.

"You know, you're really… pretty," he stammered. Shinichi smirked.

"Oh, really?" His thumb brushed over Ryou's bottom lip, sticking a little at the corner. Ryou made a sound like a wounded animal and reached out to wrap his hands around Shinichi's waist.

That was Kaito's limit, because even if Shinichi's type was thirtysomethings in security guard outfits, Kaito still had his pride. He was moving before he knew it, yanking this first thing he could find (which turned out to be his phone) out of his back pocket and hurling it at Ryou.

He nailed Ryou in the back of the head, and Ryou collapsed forward with half a surprised sound out of his mouth as Kaito's phone dropped to the ground, screen shattered. Vindictively, Kaito stalked forward and kicked him in the stomach (entirely for the satisfaction of feeling him groan) before he whipped out the can of sleeping gas he had tucked into his waistband and emptied half of it directly up Ryou's nose.

"Kid," Shinichi said, sounding surprised. Kaito rounded on him even as he yanked his spare pair of handcuffs out of his back pocket. Shinichi stared.

"Do you just carry those around, or…?" he asked, morbidly curious, as Kaito slapped the handcuffs on Ryou and set to work tying Ryou's legs together with the man's own shoelaces. Kaito ignored the question in favor of giving Shinichi the most scandalized look he could manage.

"What the hell was that," he demanded, out of breath. He still wasn't sure if he was jealous or feeling irrationally betrayed, and it was unsettling him. Shinichi just blinked at him, clueless, as if he hadn't just been halfway to climbing Ryou like a tree.

"All I was doing was trying to get him to tell me about the person who hired him and the others to hold me hostage. That was the fastest and most efficient way to do it," he informed Kaito in a tone that made him sound perfectly rational, as if he hadn't just been seducing his kidnapper for information. One of his eyebrows ticked upwards. "Are you okay, Kid? You look kind of…" He waved one hand, probably trying to find a word slightly politer than deranged. "Weird."

"Yeah, well, it's not every day you walk in on Kudou Shinichi throwing himself at someone like that," grumbled Kaito, fighting the urge to shove his hands in his pockets and sulk. He scrubbed a hand down his face, took a deep breath, and forced himself to meet Shinichi's eyes. It was a mistake—Shinichi was looking at him with uncharacteristic concern, clearly worried for Kaito's sanity, and Kaito's traitorous heart did something complicated and acrobatic behind his ribs. To cover it, he coughed and asked, "So what's going on here, tantei-kun? For some reason I don't feel like you're here because you want to be."

Shinichi sighed, looking put out as he raked a hand through his hair.

"I'm sure you heard about the heist note that showed up at the station, right?" When Kaito nodded, he made a pained noise. "One of my friends made me come tonight. Apparently she thought you were going to confess your undying love to me or something. Not that I thought that or anything, okay, it was all her, stop giving me that look," he tacked on hastily, when Kaito's face evidently did something weird in response.

"Right." Kaito cleared his throat and tried not to look as if he was on the verge of confessing his undying love. It was a little hard, considering that he was always sort of on the verge of confessing his undying love, but he managed. "I think at this point, we both know that your friend was wrong."

"Yeah." Shinichi winced. "Anyway, so I came, but as it turns out, the whole thing was a ploy to kidnap me. From what I gathered, someone hired a bunch of muscle to hold me here until she can get here."

"She?"

"They all refer to the person who hired them as a she, so," Shinichi shrugged. He sat down on the bench that Kaito hadn't noticed until now, absently nudging one of Ryou's legs out of the way with his foot in a way that filled Kaito with petty contentment. "I don't know who would want to kidnap me, though. What's the point?"

Kaito opened his mouth, about to reassure Shinichi that he, personally, could think of many reasons why someone might want to kidnap him, but it was at that moment that the sound of footsteps coming down the hall towards them became audible. Both of them froze, looking at each other in panic, before Kaito threw Ryou over his shoulder, wincing under his weight, and ran for the adjacent hall as quietly as he could. Shinichi followed him, fitting smoothly into a dark corner beside a bright green oil painting. Kaito dropped Ryou unceremoniously behind a display case before he gracelessly threw himself down beside Shinichi, landing half in Shinichi's lap and half wedged up against some kind of stand.

"Takano, we found some cords in the—wait, Takano? They're gone. What the hell is Takano?" someone shouted from the room over, sounding stuck between panic and disbelief, and Kaito winced and accidentally jostled Shinichi with his elbow when he tried to shrink back into the corner. Shinichi gave him an unimpressed look and stomped on his foot with a sort of agility that was both impressive and painful.

The footsteps were coming closer. Kaito abruptly wished he had brought more than one canister of sleeping gas. He was contemplating whether he could make do with what he had left and the five playing cards he had in his back pocket when Shinichi tugged his head closer and pressed his mouth to Kaito's ear. Kaito's brain stalled.

"Do you know what Takano's voice sounds like?" Shinichi hissed. His breath was very warm against Kaito's cheek.

"Taka—Ryou? His voice? Yeah, I guess," Kaito managed once he had regained control of his language capacities.

"Could you mimic it, you think?"

"Uh, yeah, but…" Kaito made the mistake of turning to give Shinichi a quizzical look. Their noses brushed, and he found that he was staring directly into Shinichi's eyes. It was ridiculous: the footsteps were coming towards them, and there were at least five men there, and this was a kidnapping situation, but Kaito couldn't stop the sticky surge of warmth that welled up in his chest when he looked at Shinichi. He swallowed. "I mean, yeah, I could mimic his voice, but why?"

"Great," Shinichi answered (breathed, really; Kaito felt the warm exhale of air against his lips more than he heard it) and then he grabbed Kaito by the hair and pushed Kaito's face down into his lap. Between his legs. As in—yeah.

As much as Kaito had—considered the possibility of this particular situation occurring, he had to say that this was not how he'd ever imagined it happening. Generally, there was more bed and less smothering involved when he thought about it. He opened his mouth and inhaled the hem of Shinichi's shirt.

He was about to splutter something when, overhead, Shinichi said, theatrically embarrassed, "Oh, I—um—this is—excuse us—". There was a shifting sound, like multiple people awkwardly scuffing their feet on the ground, from somewhere to their left.

Oh. Kaito wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed.

He cleared his throat, thinking hastily back to Ryou's voice. The first "Um," he got out was a little rough, not quite the right timbre, but by the time he managed the, "Get out," he'd perfected it. Most of the syllables were muffled in the zipper of Shinichi's jeans, though, and Kaito really needed to stop thinking about that for his own sanity.

"Takano, you idiot, she's going to kill you," one of the men finally stammered out, sounding traumatized. "And then she'll make us hide your body." A murmur of agreement went through the gathered men.

"Oh, relax," Kaito replied. Shinichi's hands loosened in his hair, letting him pull back to breathe. Kaito was about to add something else, something like, "Get lost, unless you want to join in," but then Shinichi emitted a—a sound that made Kaito's face flame. He jerked back in surprise. Shinichi shoved his face back down. Kaito ended up with a mouthful of denim, which made him grunt in surprise.

There was a general awkward shuffling and uncomfortable murmuring from behind Kaito.

"Uh," someone stuttered, "can you, um, stop, maybe, so we can, like, talk—"

Shinichi made The Sound again. Kaito closed his eyes and prayed for himself.

"Unless you want to stick around for the free show," he called, mouth pressed against Shinichi's waistband, "you'd better get out, because I'm not stopping for anyone." He hesitated before he added, "Not even her."

"Takano's lost it. Certifiably insane," one of the men announced, horrified.

"She's going to scalp him," another one added, sounding awed.

"More like she's going to make us scalp him," someone muttered. But Kaito could tell from his voice that he was shuffling away. The rest of them seemed to be doing the same, judging from the receding murmur of voices and footsteps. Soon they were left in silence.

"Um," Shinichi said after a minute. Awkwardly, he untangled his fingers from Kaito's hair, swallowing as he sat up straighter. His cheeks were bright red, and he appeared to be intently contemplating something located over Kaito's left shoulder. "I—er—I'm sorry. I should've—um—"

"If you wanted me that badly, tantei-kun, you could've just said, you know. You didn't have to push me down in the middle of a museum." Rubbing a hand over his mouth, Kaito sat up and stretched. His knees hurt.

"I didn't—that wasn't the point!" insisted Shinichi in a tone several shades away from a squawk. He tugged his jacket tighter around his shoulders, suddenly looking small and vulnerable in a way that Kudou Shinichi, Detective Extraordinaire, rarely did. "I couldn't think of another way to get them to leave, okay. Public displays of affection—er—walking in on sex makes people uncomfortable, so they're less likely to look closely. And you didn't have time to make a mask or anything, so I had to hide your face, and your clothes are all wrong, and…"

Kaito stared at him. Shinichi was looking at him with a strange combination of trepidation and mortification, flushed but still trying to maintain his dignity in a way that just made him look ruffled and nervous. Kaito realized, with an abrupt sort of revelation, that he was sitting in a museum full of masterpieces, and Shinichi was the only thing he wanted to look at.

He opened his mouth, about to say something sarcastic and charming and Kid-esque, but what came out instead was, "Be my boyfriend."

For a moment, neither of them moved. Shinichi blinked at Kaito, lips slightly parted as if he'd been frozen mid-inhale. Kaito looked back at him. He only realized he was holding his breath when he started to get lightheaded.

"I'm sorry," Shinichi said eventually, closing his mouth with an audible click. "I thought you just asked me to be your boyfriend."

"Yeah, because I did. Be my boyfriend, tantei-kun," replied Kaito, squaring his shoulders. He was starting to get a sinking, black-hole kind of feeling in his stomach that made him want to hurl himself out the nearest window and/or move to somewhere very, very far away, but he had his pride. If Shinichi rejected him, he'd take it like a man. Even if he sort of wanted to evaporate into nothingness at that exact point in time.

Shinichi continued to look at him. He had started to squint as if his eyesight had gone irreparably bad in the last minute.

"I know you have a shitty sense of humor, Kid, but that's taking it kind of far, don't you think?" he finally sighed, pushing a hand through his hair. Kaito lifted his eyebrows at him, and Shinichi flailed a little, looking distressed. "I don't think it's fair of you to make jokes like that when I—" He cut himself off, pressing his lips together. "I don't think it's fair. To me."

Kaito grimaced at him, now equal parts confused and dejected.

"What are you talking about? I'm not messing with you. I'm being completely serious." He narrowed his eyes at Shinichi as a thought occurred to him. Was Shinichi purposefully misunderstanding him instead of saying no directly? Was he trying to spare Kaito's feelings? "You're not trying to reject me by pretending to misunderstand me, right? Because I'd definitely prefer it if you just rejected me outright." Kaito shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose when Shinichi's expression didn't change. "Never knew you were such a heartbreaker, tantei-kun."

"What?" Shinichi sounded scandalized. Kaito hazarded a glance at him to find that he was blinking quickly, hands half-lifted in front of him. There was a frown caught between his eyebrows. "I didn't—wait. Hold on. Back up. What is even happening right now?"

"You're really going to make me say it?" Kaito tried to summon a glare, but he couldn't quite meet Shinichi's eyes.

"Yeah, because I'm really, really confused right now."

"I asked you out and you said no," Kaito summarized, miserable. Shinichi was apparently crueler than he'd thought. He got to his feet, brushing himself off carefully. His shoes were really—interesting. He was going to look at them for a little while. Or maybe forever. One or the other.

"Wait, so you're—you were being serious? You want to date me?" There was a hint of realization in Shinichi's voice, now, in contrast with the unadulterated disbelief he was still projecting. Kaito continued staring at his shoelaces. "Kid, you… you're being serious?" Oh God. Kaito winced and rubbed his forehead.

"I think we should just forget about this, maybe."

"That's not what I meant. It's just—you're Kid. I don't even know your name." The desperation in Shinichi's voice was what made Kaito finally look up. Shinichi was frowning, as though he'd just found a fingerprinted murder weapon that didn't fit into his carefully constructed deduction. "Shouldn't I know your name if…" He swallowed. "If we started dating?"

"Would knowing my name change your opinion of me, tantei-kun?" Kaito arched an eyebrow at him. Shinichi made a strangled sound, frustrated, and scrubbed a hand across the nape of his neck. He was chewing at his bottom lip in a way that was distinctly distracting, the white of his teeth bright against the color of his mouth even in the dim lighting. The corners of his eyes crinkled he squinted, trying to find the right words.

"I didn't mean it like that. I just feel like you're you, and I'm—not like you. We're different." Shinichi clamped his mouth shut, exhaling through his nose. "I… I just don't know."

Wait. That wasn't a no, was it? It wasn't. It wasn't. It was a maybe, right? A convince me? Kaito felt abruptly and exuberantly lighter. He felt as if he could go eight rounds with a hammerhead shark. Shinichi was giving him a chance.

"Don't say that," he said mildly, heart racing, "I happen to quite like who you are." He fought back the immediate upwelling of affection that filled him when Shinichi went pink. "Hey," he added, quieter, and waited until Shinichi met his eyes. "I know we're… different, if that's what you want to call it. But I know I care about you, and I know you care about me, and I know if we want to, we can make it happen." He hesitated for a second before he reached out and took Shinichi's hand, fitting his palm against the smoothness of Shinichi's skin. Shinichi didn't flinch, but his eyes were fixed on where they were touching.

"I just," he began, then stopped to lick his lips (out of nerves or out of a desire to drive Kaito insane, Kaito didn't know). "Do you really think that we'd…?"

"I think it's worth a try," Kaito murmured. He realized a second later that he'd started drifting closer to Shinichi, tugging him in by the gentle hold he had on Shinichi's hand, and he almost flinched back, an excuse perched on his tongue, until he felt a responding pull on his wrist. His heart skipped a beat. He wasn't being tolerated, or indulged: Shinichi was more than going with it. As Kaito watched, transfixed, Shinichi's eyelids lowered until his eyelashes were dark and thick around his irises, tongue pressed against his teeth as his gaze dropped down to Kaito's mouth.

"Kid," murmured Shinichi, all but imperceptible, and Kaito responded by licking his lips. Shinichi's eyes darkened, his pupils spilling wider, and he drew in a centimeter closer. Kaito was torn between the urge to close his eyes and keep them open, because he wasn't certain that if he closed his eyes, he wouldn't find out the whole thing was just a dream.

"Oh my God, you couldn't have just killed me?" snapped Ryou from where both of them had forgotten him. "God. Please. Anything would be better than this."

Startling, Shinichi jumped and smacked his forehead against Kaito's. Kaito's eyes immediately began watering, and he emitted a sound not dissimilar to a dying cat. He felt as if he'd headbutted a concrete wall. Apparently Shinichi was literally as well as metaphorically hardheaded.

"Shit, sorry," Shinichi gasped, one hand flying up to press against the throbbing mark on Kaito's forehead. His fingertips were soft and warm in a way that Kaito would've appreciated more if he wasn't trying to figure out if he was concussed. There was a slightly panicked frown on Shinichi's face as he massaged the bruise. "I'm so sorry. Uh…" Shinichi glanced back over at Ryou. "I'll take care of this, all right?"

Ryou was in the process of struggling into an upright position when Kaito glanced over at him. He looked—well, he looked pretty pissed off. Kaito couldn't really blame him, considering that less than half an hour ago, he'd thought he was the one who was going to be getting lucky with Shinichi, after all.

Actually, on second thought, Kaito could definitely blame him.

Shinichi clambered to his feet, a little shakily. His hand fell away from Kaito's forehead, which was unfortunate, but at least Kaito got to watch from behind as he strode toward Ryou with something authoritative in the way he carried himself.

"I think you should tell us everything you know about your employer," Shinichi announced when he came to a stop in front of Ryou. Ryou glared up at him.

"Yeah, that's not going to happen." He gave Kaito a bitter, venomous look that said he was picturing Kaito's death by burning at the stake. Kaito resisted the urge to preen. "Definitely not. Especially since you tossed me over for that asshole."

Shinichi eyed him speculatively for a moment.

"Are you ticklish, by any chance?" he asked, frowning thoughtfully as he crouched down in front of Ryou and cracked his knuckles with a sound like a gunshot. Ryou went pale and tried to scoot away subtly. Shinichi grinned like a supervillain.

God, Kaito loved him.

"So basically, their employer just a rich woman who hired a bunch of guys to kidnap you for some… personal reason? Because she has a crush on you?" Kid asked, looking perplexed from where he was watching Shinichi kneel beside Ryou's slack body. He tilted his head to one side, the dim light catching on his cheekbones. "That's… a lot less exciting than I was hoping." His expression went contemplative. "Understandable, I suppose."

"I don't even know who she could be. I don't think I've met any rich women who seemed particularly into me," Shinichi complained, unsure how to respond to the last comment and settling for ignoring it. He finished emptying the remaining contents of Kid's canister of sleeping gas into Ryou's sweating, red face and set down the can with a shrug. As he got to his feet, he hazarded a glance at Kid from the corner of his eyes. It was enthralling, seeing how Kid could be wearing jeans and a t-shirt and still somehow look as untouchable and regal as he did in full Kid attire.

And the very same Kid wanted to be with Shinichi. It was like some kind of fever dream.

"At least she has good taste," Kid sighed, tilting his head to one side as he rubbing at the side of his neck. His hair was sticking up in the back, unkempt and half-wild, as if a passing bird had attempted to nest in it. Shinichi stared at it, kind of stupidly, before he realized that was because he'd had his hands in Kid's hair less than an hour ago. His face suddenly felt hot, and he looked down at Ryou's knee instead of thinking about it anymore.

"So now that we know more about the kidnappers," Kid began after a moment, and Shinichi glanced over at him to find that Kid was gazing at him with an intensely affectionate expression that made the ball of happiness behind Shinichi's sternum swell like a balloon. "Do you want to finish that conversation we were having?"

"Oh, um," Shinichi said, eloquently. Kid's lips twitched upwards at the corners, and Shinichi scowled at him. "I—yeah." He cleared his throat, lifting his chin haughtily in an attempt not to look as if he was going melty on the inside. "You were professing your undying love for me, right?" He'd meant it as a joke, but Kid's smirk turned into a full-blown grin.

"Observant, aren't you, tantei-kun," he beamed. "Well, I suppose there's a reason they call you the savior of the metropolitan police force." Shinichi was so fixated on Kid's smile that he startled when Kid reached out and picked up Shinichi's hand. Kid wasn't wearing gloves, and his lips were soft when he brushed a kiss against Shinichi's knuckles. When he looked up at Shinichi through his eyelashes, Shinichi had to swallow hard. This was the most vulnerable he'd ever seen Kid.

"You never answered my question," Kid said, quietly. "Will you be my boyfriend?"

Shinichi stared at him. He couldn't imagine anyone rejecting Kid, and only partly because Kid was hot like burning and probably the most charming human to ever exist. There was something magnetic about him, something understated and kind that drew Shinichi inexorably towards him. Shinichi didn't know his first name or his favorite color or his birthday, but he knew, somehow, that Kid was someone good.

He opened his mouth, about to say all of that, but then there was a sharp cough from the entrance to the room. Shinichi jumped and whirled around. Kid, inexplicably, whipped an ace of hearts out of his back pocket, as if that was going to do anything against the fifteen men standing at the entrance, a wall of solid muscle and slightly panicked expressions.

For a second, nothing happened. Shinichi and Kid stared at them, and they stared back, and there was an awkward silence until an agitated female voice cut through the stillness.

"Oh my God, get out of my way. I didn't ask for you to kidnap him so I could stare at your backs," it snapped, and a woman emerged from the back of the group, elbowing her way through the clump of men until she and Shinichi were staring at each other. She was dressed in a sheath dress and ridiculously sharp stiletto heels that looked as if they might snap her ankles in two if she stepped wrong, and her blonde hair was done up in a complicated style that reminded Shinichi of a crepe. She was looking at him, wide-eyed and mouth partially open. Shinichi had never seen her in his life.

"I would like to point out that first of all, kidnapping is not as romantic as you're trying to make it seem, and second of all, Kid is my boyfriend now, so, you know, I'm kind of taken," he said hesitantly after a minute of uncomfortable staring. At his side, Kid jumped, and even without looking at him, Shinichi could sense that he was smiling brightly enough to power an entire city's electrical grid.

"Tantei-kun," he laughed, expression embarrassingly overjoyed, and Shinichi couldn't help but smile back at him, probably looking equally as stupid and finding it difficult to care. Kid's eyes lowered to Shinichi's mouth, going half-lidded in a heartbeat, and Shinichi was leaning towards before he could stop himself—

"You idiots, who the hell is that?" the woman shouted, startling Shinichi into whipping around to watch as she rounded on her bodyguards (employees?). The men cowered. "I told you to get Hakuba Saguru, not whoever the hell he is! How could you mess this up?"

The room was suddenly silent.

"I take back what I said before," Kid muttered. "She clearly has no taste."

"Completely and utterly incompetent," the woman yelled, throwing her hands in the air. "I asked for the Great Detective of the East, the crown jewel of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Force, and who do you bring me? Kaitou Kid's boyfriend? How stupid could you be?" She was seething now, five feet of Dior-clad anger and hairspray. Her stiletto heels suddenly looked seemed a lot more ominous. Shinichi felt an incongruous rush of sympathy for the kidnappers.

"Uh, that is the Great Detective of the East," one of the men (clearly the bravest) offered, his voice shaking. "Kudou Shinichi? He's also called the savior of the police force. The modern Holmes. And, um, you mentioned that the one you wanted us to kidnap chases Kid and likes Holmes? And Kudou Shinichi does. Both of those things, I mean. And, um, the fake heist note you sent seemed more, uh, suited for him. So. Um. Yeah."

The woman was shaking her head at them, eyes slitted dangerously.

"I cannot believe this," she fumed. Suzuki looked as if he was about to cry. "I am going to make you pay. All of you." She glanced back over at Kid, and her expression instantly went contrite. "I am so sorry, Kid-san. And, ah, Kuroo-san, you too," she added, clearly as an afterthought. Shinichi pressed his lips together. The woman's tone went conciliatory as she continued, "I didn't meant to ruin your evening. And—er—I don't quite know how to ask this, but the curators have already been released safely, so please, if you could consider not pressing charges—"

"That won't be necessary," Kid cut in, wrapping an arm around Shinichi's waist. When Shinichi turned to scowl at him, he smirked. "We got something out of the experience, after all. And we haven't contacted the police." The because Shinichi's phone is out of battery and I broke mine on someone's head went unspoken.

"Oh!" The woman perked up. "Well, that's very gentlemanly of you." She batted her eyelashes at Kid, biting at her bottom lip, and Shinichi rolled his eyes so hard he thought he saw the inside of his own skull. Kid's hand squeezed around his waist, and Shinichi turned to find that Kid was smirking at him with a familiar, annoying amusement. Shinichi scowled.

"I am a gentleman thief, my dear," Kid reminded the woman without looking away from Shinichi, even when the woman smiled flirtatiously back at him. Shinichi couldn't bring himself to mind when Kid was beaming at him like that. "Now, if you don't mind, we'll take our leave now." He winked at her before he swept Shinichi towards the far window, guiding him around Ryou's prone body. The woman waved cheerily. The men behind her looked resigned.

The lock on the window, as it turned out, was broken. Kid must've come in through it earlier, Shinichi thought as Kid helped him through (very unnecessarily, but Shinichi wasn't going to deny himself the chance to hold Kid's hand). There was a bit of a ledge lining the outside of the building, and they huddled together there in the night air. The moon was bright overhead, hanging like a single pearl, and Kid looked pretty in a way that made Shinichi's chest ache.

"I don't know how I feel about letting her go," Shinichi said, rather than meet Kid's eyes. "I mean, she did kidnap me."

"True," Kid acknowledged. He smiled, dazzling. "But right now, I'd rather be alone with you than down at the police station, filing a report." Shinichi eyed him for a moment before Kid added, shit-eating grin in place, "And it would be hilarious if she actually kidnapped Hakuba."

"That's the real reason, isn't it." Shinichi closed his eyes, reaching up to rub his temples. He was in love with an idiot.

"I wasn't lying when I said I'd rather be alone with you," Kid hummed. Squinting, Shinichi angled a narrow-eyed look at him to find that he was grinning, beautiful in his exuberance. "Since I hear we're dating, now."

"Yeah, I guess we are," Shinichi said, trying to feign indifference, but he clearly failed because he could hear the smile in his own voice. Kid could, too, because his own grin widened and he started glancing around, scanning the area carefully. Shinichi watched, one eyebrow ticking upwards.

"What are you doing?" he asked. Kid, evidently done with whatever he'd been doing, exhaled through his smile, settling his hands on Shinichi's face. His palms swallowed up Shinichi's cheeks, fingertips curling around Shinichi's ears.

"I'm going to kiss you now, and I really don't want to be interrupted again," he announced.

"Oh." Shinichi swallowed and finally gave into the urge to fit his arms around Kid, looking into Kid's laughing eyes. "That makes two of us, then."

Well, he thought muzzily as Kid leaned in and kissed him firmly, it looked as if he was going to have to thank Satou later. He kind of owed her a lot, after all.

If you enjoyed this fic even a little, please considering dropping me a review, and I'll see you all soon (hopefully in less than two months this time)! - Luna