smokebombsandmirrors:

“There was no bullet. It had torn straight through the side.” Kaito murmured and felt sleepy. “Hakuba?”

Torn straight through… either a graze or-  

Hakuba paused, hand on the car door at the mention of his name. “Yes, Kuroba-kun?” he asked, running through his medical training in the back of his head.

He had all of the supplies that he’d need to take care of minor injuries, though if it was anything more, he’d have to convince Kuroba to go to a hospital, which he imagined would be a new set of complications.

smokebombsandmirrors:

“At the heist right as i was about to leave, have to give Nakamouri-keibu kudos though when he leaped on to the guy. Oh, but before all of that the ass hole who shot me actually put his hands on me.” He said with a shudder. “Hence the reason for burning it. Good thing I have spares.”

He sighed again and reclined and realized that his finger tip had gone pleasantly numb. Wiggling his feet he took note that they were to. He giggled about it.

Hakuba made it back to his bed, zipped up his jeans, then dug through his drawer for his wallet and keys, frown growing increasingly severe the more Kuroba went on. “He… he put his hands on you?” he asked, startled, then shook his head. “Did you manage to get the bullet out, or did it go all the way through?" 

The giggle had him worried. Was he going into shock? 

Quickly, he donned the snug black tee and jogged for the bathroom, throwing open the cupboard to dig out a new package of gauze to supplement his field bag’s supply. To this he added a bottle of saline solution and cotton swabs, then left the room, grabbing the zip-up hoodie he normally saved for the country club on his way out.

smokebombsandmirrors:

“Its nothing to big. I just got shot. Stupid henchman.” He explained mildly irritated with the whole thing at the heist. “I am at home getting blood all over my couch, that’ll have to be reupholstered and I had to burn my uniform.”

Something about the whole situation seemed… off. Kuroba sounded tired, yes, but there was something else in the way that he spoke and in his mannerisms.

Hakuba halted at that, hands over one of the dress shirts on the hanger. “Pardon… you were shot? When did that happen? And why did you have to burn your uniform?" 

Frowning, he decided that there wasn’t time for his normal attire, and snagged one of his unworn t-shirts from the back to slip on, then the pair of forgotten jeans from the drawer. 

Hopping on one foot, he got dressed making his way back to the bed, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder. 

smokebombsandmirrors:

Kaito blinked at the phone. Tailor? He was so confused “No, I don’t need a tailor. I need to stitch up my thigh.”

“Stitch up your…”   Hakuba blinked again, then pushed himself up into a sit when the realization hit him. “Are you injured? God, do you need to go to the hospital? Wait, no- I’m certain you wouldn’t…" 

He dragged the covers from himself, regretfully leaving the warmth of his bed to stumble to his closet.

"I’ve been trained in field medical… sutures, that sort of thing. Where are you?”

smokebombsandmirrors:

“How good are you at sewing?”  Kaito asked quickly. 

“Sewing?” Hakuba repeated the question, grimacing as he flopped back onto his pillow, heaving a sigh. What was this nonsense? “I can replace buttons and hands-stitch for small repairs, but that’s about where my tailoring experience ends… are you in need of a tailor?" 

Blindly, he reached for the nightstand and pulled open the drawer, groping for his wallet.

"I’ve got my man’s phone number here… somewhere.. if you need a referral… why do you need this so late at night?" 

smokebombsandmirrors:

Kaito grumbled and kept staring at his phone, more specifically the text he had gotten, from one that wasn’t supposed to be here.  A good 3 hours had past since the heist and he was well more than tipsy. He took another long swallow of whiskey and picked up his phone. 

To Hakuba Saguru: [text] I guess that is one way of looking at it. I don’t feel like a won anything. 

To Hakuba Saguru: [text]  ……. I keep seeing you. At the heist I saw you tonight. ….. That wasn’t the only time. I thought I saw you sitting at my kitchen table. Talk about a heart attack.  Ha ha …….. seriously ….. I wasn’t supposed to miss you

Kaito squinted one eye and pressed send. What would it matter? The one he sent it to wasn’t even here. He sighed and stretched out on to the couch. His leg was still hurting bad and he remembered that he need to finished putting the stitches in. He sat up then fell right back down.

Laughing he realized he was totally screwed. The room was swaying and he hands were flops. He began laughing harder and snagged his phone. To call his only friend. The one he had just shoved away to England.

By the time the texts chimed in on Hakuba’s phone, he’d been asleep for at least an hour or so. The wine had acted as a very nice sedative; easing his anxiety, dulling the pain, and letting him crawl into bed with only trace amounts of guilt for doing so without having confirmed Kid’s safety. It was like that at every heist, though; why should this be different?

Even so, he kept the phone close, and stirred when he heard the messages come in, phone vibrating once, then again. Out of habit, he pulled it over to him to read through bleary eyes, and only got through part of the first before his phone rang.

You tell me that you’ve got everything you want,
And your bird can sing,
But you don’t ge-

“Hullo…?” Hakuba answered before the custom ringtone could finish, squinting in the dim light of the clock on his nightstand. Why was Kaito calling him this late? “Kuroba-kun?”