smokebombsandmirrors:

Kaito wrapped his finger and moved upstairs to his bed room to change his clothes. He quickly moved about the room and changed in to a pair of dark washed jean and snagged a black form fitting tee on the way out. Running back down stairs he started pulling it over his head.

“How do you like the tea?” He said voice muffle threw the fabric.

“It’s quite lovely, yes,” came Hakuba’s very sincere answer, head tilting to look as Kaito came back into the room. And, oh, he noticed the clothing. And the skin. And, curiously, the hint of scars… All in all, it was quite the distraction, even when the shirt was in place. Right. Yes. Athletic. Svelte. Well-muscled. 

Once he realized that he had let his eyes linger for a few seconds too long, he directed his attention to the tea and smiled again, wondering just what his expression had been just now. He hoped it was simply distracted; that’s what it had felt like.

OH. THE TEA. They were talking about tea! Yes. 

“Thank you. God, it’s been so long since I’ve had good Earl Grey… my mum usually sends me a box once a month, but lately it’s just been passive aggressive notes and hint upon hint…” He chuckled, then bit his lip. “And I haven’t been home in months…”

smokebombsandmirrors:

Kaito blinked at him then swiped the back of his hand on his forehead. Looking at his middle finger on his left hand he watched the blood build. It had to be on one of the finger where he couldn’t feel anything. He stood and made his way to the sink.

“I caught my self with the solder iron earlier. I thought the bleeding had stop.” He suck his hand under the sink and started the water. Even as the water poured into the bleeding burn he didn’t even flinch. Not so much as a twitch.  

Hakuba watched him as he moved, taking note of how he walked, the things that he did. There was no way, he thought, that Kuroba was not Kid, but he held his thoughts for the time being, dutiful as the doting retriever. And while he felt concern for the injury, he knew that Kid had suffered far worse than a little burn; he could take care of himself. Clearly.

“Ouch. Tough luck,” he said with the concern one might offer a colleague – with empathy, not pity. Commiserating. Hakuba had worked with those sort of tools before, and with either of their professions, injury was never far away. Once he added sugar to his own tea, he pulled out a stack of envelopes from the inside of his suit jacket and laid them on the table, only to then notice what kind of tea it was.

Blinking, not believing, he picked it up and took a sip. "…Is this…? My god this is Earl Grey. Oh god, and it’s good Earl Grey.“  

With renewed enthusiasm, he went for the cream, smile plastered to his face.