“What the hell are you doing?! LET ME GO!” Kaito shouted and nearly dropped the bags in a desperate attempt to claw and bite at the hand on him.
He did not take to being man handled unless he wanted it and said when and certainly not in some dark alley way where no one can see you to help just in case. Not that he thought the detective would try anything, it was just a precaution that was wise to take.
December 24th, Last Year (“I Can Explain!”)
“Thank god one of you had sense.”
“Well…!”
“You do realize what that looked like, right? You’re lucky he didn’t kill you.”
Hakuba frowned, folding his arm over his chest again while setting his mobile on the floor so that he could stretch his other arm. “As I said, he’s not the murdering type."
"So, to recap, my six foot tall foreign, broad-shouldered, angry-looking, potentially racist and nationalistic client dragged a young, vulnerable, and defenseless Japanese kid into a dark alley…”
“You’re making it sound a lot worse than it is.”
“…to make out with them.”
“Uh.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong.”
“…Uh.”
“God help me, you’re such a disaster.”
“Please, Jones, let me finish!”
“If you can somehow turn this into a case of not dubious consent, I will fly out to London tonight and personally deliver a fruitbasket to your home for Christmas.”
“Uh. Well…”
The Previous Week (“In Retrospect, Not a Good Idea”)
That… that was not the attention that he wanted or needed. “Kuroba-kun!” He hissed, trying in vain to keep his cool. It wasn’t working.
Hakuba let go of Kaito, glanced back out to the crowd, which was largely obscured by the wall and the deep shadows, and ran a hand through his hair, frustrated and embarrassed and still oh so intrigued.
But mostly, he was panicked. There were people out there. Paparazzi. Rabid fan girls. Stalkers. Friends of his father and co-workers and oh god if anyone from school… and Kuroba wasn’t keeping his god-damned poker face in tact and…
Before he even knew what was happening, Hakuba stepped right up against him and kissed him. Not the same sort of kiss from before – chaste and cute and teasing on the forehead – but a deep and passionate kiss right on the lips. One that didn’t stop.
Somewhere, in those seconds, he shed the weight of the supply bags, leaving them in the snow in favor of grasping the other teen. One hand went for his shoulder, then to the back of his head, the other went for the scarf, pulling him closer, eyes closed as he kissed him.