smokebombsandmirrors:

Kaito wanted so bad to push him back, to punch his lights out for forcing himself on him but it felt way too good and it had been so long since he was held by someone. As Hakuba’s hand trailed over his spine and side he arch towards him. He shivered as the soft press of his fingers brushed along his sensitive scars. He felt the detective shift and he shifted with him so they fit better. 

That was one thing he notice through the fog that they fit. He hadn’t been able to find something like this when he was active. That was months ago and he was getting exceedingly frustrated with himself and Hakuba was … everything he looked for, physically, in a partner but this was still Hakuba. ‘You’re Kaitou KID’ Hakuba.

Its all a mask isn’t it, Hakuba?

The realization that the detective was always wearing a mask brought forth more emotions than he wanted for the other. His hands stopped pushing, trembled then wrapped them selves in his lapel.

It was a mask. Everything was a lie. Everything but this, this stolen moment. This expression of feeling that he’d kept bottled up for so many months, out of fear, out of caution, out of feelings of inadequacy. Hakuba knew that Kaito would never return his feelings, but for that brief moment he could almost swear that he was kissing him back. Almost. 

He wanted it to be real. Something in him screamed with red warning flags waving furiously in his mind, but he kept kissing him anyway. Kissed him over, and over again, fighting for control of himself, of the situation, of his life. Each kiss was a little more desperate, a little more heated, a little more feverish, as if it would somehow tell Kaito exactly what was in his heart and in his mind. As if it would make things all right.

Hakuba’s hand moved between them, up and over his chest, over the scarf, back to his neck and then to his face, cupping his cheek. He so badly wanted to hold him, to love him, to protect him. But as those thoughts came through, it began to show in the way that he kissed, too. There was no loss of passion, but his hands held him carefully, his lips moved more fully, each caress meaning something that he couldn’t bring himself to say. 

smokebombsandmirrors:

“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. 

smokebombsandmirrors:

Kaito flinched at the sudden out burst and looked at the said tree. It was gaudy and way over the top but he was far to used to it by now to really care. As Hakuba continued to complain he felt his temper flare again. He couldn’t even find watching the detective’s mittens flying threw the sir and landing in the gutter funny like it normally would.  

“Okay, Now look here, its not wrong, its just different! You don’t see me going to your country and pointing out everything that is different or weird or not how YOUR used to! So would you stop degrading everything in Japan!”  He shouted and earned a few head turns and stares but he just ignored them and stood there feet planted, red faced, and panting. 

December 24th, Last Year (“Brief and Unnecessary Comments from the Agent”)

“You are so insensitive. It serves you right.”

“…anyway, regardless if the validity of your statement…” Hakuba continued.

Last Week (“A Case of Chronic ‘Foot In Mouth’ Disease”)

If the yelling hadn’t gotten Hakuba to stop in his tracks, words evaporating in his mouth like his breath in the cold air, the stares certainly did. The detective became all too aware that, yes, they had attracted attention, and now the both of them were possibly even redder than the god-awful ‘Christmas’ tree. 

But it wasn’t just the attention, either– those staring eyes, judging gazes, and critical whispers that Hakuba knew were circulating among the crowd. That he hated enough, yes, and felt the embarrassment spark every sense of panic and adrenaline response in him. And that made him notice something else. 

There was nothing more attractive to a rowdy bullshitting detective than to be called out on said bullshit. Kaito did this often. And here he was, standing in the snow with messier, wilder hair, red-faced and handsome and screaming at him for being such an ass and it was somehow just as glorious as it was terrifying. 

He hated it. He loved it. And Hakuba found himself nodding, bowing, and reaching to grab Kaito’s arm without any further delay to drag him, bodily, toward the closest, darkest alleyway. 

“You’re right, you’re right, I’m so sorry, please accept my apologies, I didn’t mean anything by it, I just got caught up in the moment, and god, you’re so right…”

December 24th, Last Year (“Skepticism At Work”)

“…did you really apologize or are you just saying that to make yourself look better?”

“No!” Hakuba said, sitting up just a bit too fast, very narrowly avoiding hitting his head on the piano. “I really did say all of those things! I panicked! And he was right! I never disputed that!”

“So how do you get by, admitting that you’re a hypocrite, but not… changing, exactly?”

The detective sighed, flopping right back over again onto his back. “My life is a very difficult and complicated one, Jones…" 

If only Hakuba could see the deadpan expression on his agent’s face at that moment…  

"What did Kuroba think about being dragged into the dark alleyway by the foreign blond who looks like a predatory college student?”

“Ah, well…" 

smokebombsandmirrors:

He tried to shy away from the touch, from the warmth but couldn’t find the strength in his legs. Out of all the places he could have touch, it had to be the back of his neck. Wait …WAIT. Never mind any place Hakuba Saguru shouldn’t be touching him at all. He bow his head away from the other’s gaze in a failed attempt to hide his red cheeks and ears.

“Shut the hell up, Hakuba,” It was supposed to come out as a threat. He intended it to come out that way. Instead it sounded like a breathy whine and Kaito was kicking himself in the head for it.

“Yes, yes, right, right,” came Hakuba’s flippant reply. Once he made sure that he’d thoroughly rubbed Kaito’s cheeks, then ears, he adjusted Kaito’s collar, then retied the scarf as if nothing were wrong. “There." 

And then he did something that even he didn’t expect, leaning in to place the smallest of kisses on Kaito’s forehead.

Blinking, he pulled back, glanced around, and then stepped once to the side, then over to where he’d set the school bags down without further comment, picking them up out of the snow, eyes wide, expression frozen in rabbit-panic.  

He gave a cough. "Ahem. L-let’s go.”

smokebombsandmirrors:

“Fuck you.” He hissed again.

He glared up at the other frustrated with the whole day. Kaito couldn’t look up at him when the finger dug at the snow. When Hakuba hit a sensitive spot on his neck his shivered violently and blushed. He froze too scared to jump back and hit ice and too … he whimpered. This real wasn’t his day.

“Oh come now.” Hakuba took a moment to take his mittens off with his teeth, setting the bags down so that he could better help with the wet and the cold. “Just hold still, let me help." 

He untied the scarf and pulled it off to shake it out, then draped it over Kaito’s shoulder to run bare fingers through his damp hair–

December 24th, Last Year ("Jones Interrupting in the Present”)

“Is this where you get to the making out?”

Hakuba blinked. “Pardon?”

Jones sighed with all of the patience that his years as an agent had granted him. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate your ability to spin a yarn, Saguru, but… the point of this story?”

“I’m getting to that!”

“So far, you’re just making yourself sound just as much the ass as they say.”

“Who says that?!”

There was a pause as Jones considered whether ‘everyone’ was an acceptable answer to give his client or not. “Let’s just say that not everyone has fallen for your boyish charm and good looks.”

“Hmf.”

“Go on.”

“So there I was, getting the snow out of my classmate’s hair, as, honestly, that’s the only way to avoid the chill really setting in, because once the dampness–”

“…yes. I know. So you were fondling Kuroba’s hair.”

“Not fondling…”

“I was promised a good makeout story, Saguru. I’m dying here.”

“I’m…! What?!”

“I’m listening." 

The detective waited for a moment, wondering if he should even bother to continue with the impatient man… but ultimately, the story was far too good to keep to himself. Especially since he’d already put so much work into it. He went back to tracing the drawings on the underside of the piano idly. "My hands were warm from the mittens, so I ultimately put them around his neck for a moment to warm him up…”

Back To One Week Earlier (“Where Hakuba Is NOT Fondling Kuroba’s Hair OR Neck”)

Palms flat against Kaito’s neck, Hakuba tilted his head to look him over, still far too amused at the whole situation to stop snickering. He turned his hands over to press the backs of them, next, then drew them up to Kaito’s red cheeks. 

“You’re almost as rosy as I am. It’s cute." 

smokebombsandmirrors:

“Being a pompous ass hole.” He hissed and half turned away from him. Disgusted and cold he moved to start back down to the school. It was if the weather also had a vendetta against him as the wind kicked up and shifted the snow on the roofs. He took about three steps before that disturbed snow slipped and fell onto his head and down his collar.

Standing there in surprise he felt his anger bubble up to its near limit. “I hate the cold!” 

Oh. Oh dear. 

Hakuba bit his lip HARD to hold back the snickers that were building up inside of him. He’d just opened his mouth to reply to the ‘asshole’ comment, but instead snorted and hurried to Kaito’s side to start brushing the snow off of his head and shoulders, digging with mittens to get it off of his neck as quickly as possible. “I can see why. You’re usually much more graceful than this, Kuroba-kun…”

Then he laughed, unable to hold it back as he tried to shake Kaito’s coat out for him. “Could it be that your one true weakness is the cold~? Huzzah, I’ve finally found a surefire way to defeat you!" 

smokebombsandmirrors:

Now he was just getting offended. “Its not the scarf, you jerk! Its that fact that you’re … you’re!” He made a strangled noise in his throat and struggled not to throw the bags at him.

“Do you practice this in front of a mirror or something?” He glared.

It was just so charming to see Kaito so flustered and upset. Occasions where he could tease him to this point were few and far between, and Hakuba made sure to take advantage whenever he could. It never evened the score, but it made him feel a little better, at any rate. 

The question, though, had Hakuba raising a brow, smile turning to a challenging smirk. “Practice what? Being so charming~?" 

smokebombsandmirrors:

He absolutely refused to hear the compliments in the snide comments. He also denied himself the comfort of burying his face into to warmth that it provide do that would cause him to owe the detective a favor and that was something Kaito didn’t want to have dangled over his head.

“Hakuba.” He barked short and terse with just enough bite that normally cause whoever he did it to stop what ever they were doing. “I don’t want this …this ….THING!”

December 24th, Last Year (The “Present”)

“So you tied your burberry scarf into a bow around your classmate’s neck, when he didn’t want it, after insulting him.”

“It was a perfectly reasonable thing to do.”

“Right. Go on.”

Hakuba checked his watch again, making sure that there was still time – of which there was plenty – then heaved a sigh, closing his eyes again. “So he told me that he didn’t want it, but of course he did, who would turn down a burberry?”

One Week Earlier (“‘This Thing’ that Kaito allegedly doesn’t want being a cashmere burberry scarf worth roughly $435”)

“Of course you want it,” Hakuba said, snickering. “Who would turn down a burberry? Even temporarily?” It was almost as if the half-brit weren’t even affected by Kaito’s bite; he was just in that sort of mood.

Despite all of the warning signs, he reached out to pat Kaito’s cheek, since he clearly wasn’t moving out of the way. "Come now, Kuroba-kun~! Be a good sport. Or do I need to lend you my mittens, too?“