From kaitomagic: 

Because I’m not one to believe people can be described so simply… my answer is, as follows:
Tsundere – You’re sort of cold in a hostile way, sometimes… but you really are a softie.
Kuudere – I suppose the silent doesn’t quite fit, but you do act rather cool a lot of the time… seeming to warm up a bit more when people prove that they can be trusted?
Dandere – Quiet, but not quiet. I suppose what I mean here is more in regards to inner thoughts and feelings.
Dorodere – Very sweet, when you want to be. And I don’t mean to say that you’re disturbed, but there is definitely more behind that wall.
Deredere – I must admit, I’m quite fond of this side of you.

—

“Kaito-kun… that’s… so very kind of you to say. I… I’m speechless. To think that you’ve… well…” He coughed. “…Ah, let’s… ah… your prompt, let’s see.”

—

Oh, and also… @$$.

—

@ – Smut

$ – Fluff

$ – Fluff

“Aha… … haha… … I see what you did there… very well, then. Ah…”

—

Hakuba rolled up into a sit, letting the covers slip into his lap and sighed, hand rubbing the side of his face tiredly. The night had been eventful. Dinner with the force, being denied drinks at the bar, dealing with the traffic – oh god the traffic – and the paparazzi at the scene. The heist itself had been fine, of course. Kaitou Kid did what he did best; dazzle the crowd, make the officers look utterly foolish, steal the gem, lead them on a merry chase…

In the end, he’d returned the jewel and escaped with only one or two minor mishaps, but it was still a harrowing affair. For the detective, who now kept a field bag of medical supplies in his car in the event of any grievous injuries, any time Kid got a clean getaway was a good night. So contrary to what he’d said to the press, of course, but he was relieved. It meant that, two or three hours later, he’d see one dark-haired, overly confident ass, complete with smrk, sneak into the window of his bedroom.

Whether it was Kaitou or Kuroba changed depending on how well things had gone, but he always showed up sooner or later. Unless something went wrong, that is; in which case he’d be getting a text, potentially with a location and summary of injuries and the supplies he needed. 

That night, Kaito had come as a normal teenager, complete with backpack full of homework. He’d still snuck in through the window, sure, but it meant that he could join him for breakfast in the morning instead of having to sneak out again afterward. Once Hakuba had gotten him undressed and assessed the damage, one kiss at a time, they’d gone to bed.

Bruises he could handle. Scratches were to be expected. Hell, sprains and the like he could treat and still make love to him without worry. But even as their hearts pounded, and hands desperately grasped at sheets and naked skin, he worried. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he couldn’t stop. Fingers curled into his hair and that hazy look, the quiet cries of his name, urged him. Yet always, he wondered if this would be their last time together. Even when tension brought a startled cry in the back of his throat, there was just that one niggling fear that he couldn’t get rid of.

How long would their luck hold out? 

Lying together in the still quiet was the detective’s most protected moments. Lazy kisses along his neck and cheek, gentle hand combing over bare skin as it cooled. Hakuba listened to Kaito’s breath, felt the beating of his heart, and allowed himself a contented sigh. It was a dangerous game that they played. Surely, it would be noticed eventually. Whether it would be Kaitou’s doing – too much of a longing gaze here, giving the heist up a little too easily there – or Hakuba’s, with his lulling aggression for the chase… it was bound to end.

These thoughts, ever present, plagued him until he sat up. Kaito watched him, lying on his side. One hand rested on his hip, the other held his head, brow curiously raised. The detective glanced down at the thief and pushed a small smile, though he knew that the thief could see right through it. 

“Kuroba-kun…” Hakuba said, then laughed at himself, quietly. He was so prone to slipping into the formalities that they’d kept up in their daily lives; it was almost ridiculous. “Apologies. Kaito. I just…” He sighed, and let his smile quirk slanted, more genuine. “Shall I make us some tea? I don’t know that I’ll ever get to sleep otherwise." 

Truthfully, he longed for the liquor cabinet or his pack of cigarettes, but he’d never get away with that with his lover there. Which was probably a good thing, really, given that it was a school night. But still, the headache that settled in begged for sleep, and Hakuba wanted nothing more than to slip  back into the covers and hold him.

It was just so difficult to do when the nightmares lurked so close at hand.