smokebombsandmirrors:

He froze then slowly moved back to lean against the couch.

“Right … it could have been anyone and you would have come them.” He smiled at him. It was off not quiet a smile and not quiet a grimace. With his poker face back in place he watched the opposite wall and waited for Hakuba to finish.

“That’s… true.”  Hakuba heaved a sigh once Kaito was once again resting, turning to get the sutures ready for sewing. The change in the atmosphere was quite obvious- he thought that even someone as dense as Hattori Heiji would have noticed.

He didn’t know what to do about it, though. Kuroba had been acting so oddly… it baffled him. But with the lingering effects of alcohol and the adrenaline slowly beginning to give way to his body’s exhaustion, the detective kept focused on the work at hand. He could deal with the emotional later. 

His hands worked quickly, threading the needle in and out of the skin, tucking it together under tiny, neat stitches. He cared for Kuroba; far more than he’d admit, but to imagine that those feelings might be returned…? No. No, certainly not. Ridiculous. 

The entire procedure only lasted a few minutes; Hakuba was good at getting this sort of thing done in a timely manner. Soon he was applying a bandage over the spot, fingerpads massaging it gently over Kaito’s thigh to keep the seal in place. 

“Just about done…" 

smokebombsandmirrors:

Kaito didn’t flinch or make a sound as Hakuba worked on him. At first he watched the mans hands. Precise, control, gentle yet firm. His eyes lifted from the hand to the others face. He was worried that much had shown through. That was touching. Gently he leaned over as to not disturb the others work and laid his forehead against the blonde hair and wrapped his arms loosely around the others neck.

“Thank you for being here.”

It was almost unsettling to have Kuroba so willing to touch him. Hakuba’s cheeks betrayed his feelings on the matter, but he continued to work, despite, moving back and forth between the wound and the table beside him to switch out supplies. Out came a packaged needle, which he tore open with his teeth and pulled in a carefully measured amount of liquid from a tiny bottle, leaning over his leg to administer the shot.

“Local anesthetic- a small pinching sensation, perhaps a burn, and it’ll ease the pain…” he explained, pushing the syringe and plunger in, then pulled back to cap it, setting it aside. He returned with cotton swabs, but the cleanup that time only took a few seconds.

Then, while waiting for the anesthetic to kick in, he carefully turned his head to look down at Kaito. “I wouldn’t ignore a cry for help, Kuroba-kun… just who do you think that I am, anyway?”

smokebombsandmirrors:

Kaito looked up at him. The tears were shining in the light. He felt so conflicted and confused. He nodded his head and leaned back against the couch cushions. Hakuba had stayed, that had changed everything for him. He didn’t lose him, he still had a chance to end the loneliness he felt.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured softly. The tears threatened to spill over. There was just too much. He was like a raw nerve. All bundled up and pull as tight as he could go.  

Hakuba shook his head, embarrassed by the emotional scene before him. It was worrying, too; Kaito was normally so good at hiding his feelings, but here he was, nearly shattered. “It’s all right; you’re just very… drunk. Things will be better in the morning.” Surely, it was just the drink talking. Just the drink crying.

The detective set to work cleaning the wound, swabbing the puncture site as carefully as he could while still being effective. It was a delicate balancing act, but something that he had a lot of experience with. He just hoped that Kaito wouldn’t scream; this part always hurt the most.

smokebombsandmirrors:

He pouted as he handed the bottle over. “I’ve never had a hangover in my life, thank you. Wait …. Haven’t been home? You mean you never left?”

Multiple expression came across his face all at once. Anger, confusion, embarrassment, joy then finally something soft and personal. “You came to the heist. I thought you ….” he bowed his head and sat promptly on the couch and buried his face in his hands. “Never want to …”

The reaction startled him, confused him. Had he said something wrong?

Or… right, perhaps?  

“No, I haven’t left, and yes, I was at the heist. Of course I went to the heist." Hakuba shook his head, taking the bottle, and set it behind him on the table. "I said that my priorities changed, not that I wouldn’t participate at all." 

He bent to riffle through the duffel, pulling out a bottle of water, an astringent, cotton swabs, and gauze, laying out the supplies on the table next to him. 

"It’s all right… everything is going to be fine, Kuroba-kun. Just let me take care of it." 

smokebombsandmirrors:

He held up the bottle of Jack at the last question. “Don’t have much in the ways of pain stuff” He huffed and narrowly missed bashing his bad thigh with the bottle when he moved his arms dramatically it sit his hands on his  narrow waist. “What do you mean? It takes 13 hours to get to Tokyo from London.”

Hakuba set the duffel bag down on the floor and took a seat on the coffee table once he knew it was steady. “Yes, from London, but I haven’t bee home in months, Kuroba-kun. Let me see your leg- and, give me that bottle; you don’t need any more alcohol right now." 

He reached for the bottle, brows furrowed. "Honestly… since you’ve had so much, I can’t give you anything but a shot of local anesthetic. I won’t envy your hangover, either. Have you at least had something to eat? Water?" 

smokebombsandmirrors:

Kaito pouted and was just all around thoroughly confused. “How did you get here so fast?”

He moved away from the door to let Hakuba in. Limping back to the living room he snagged the half empty bottle of Jack and screwed the lid back on. 

“I don’t live very far away, if you recall…” Although Hakuba had never explicitly invited Kaito over, he wouldn’t have been at all surprised to find that he’d been to the house before. Thieves, especially phantom ones, did as they pleased with little regard to anything like laws or conventional politeness.  

Nevertheless, he stepped inside and repeated the same song and dance of formalities- removing his shoes, closing the door, apologizing for intruding, and so on, though this time he skipped the house slippers. He then hurried after Kaito, bug clutched tightly at his side. 

Once in the living room, he took the scene in with a tired frown. “Ah… so you have been drinking,” Hakuba said, and shook his head in hypocritical incredulity. “Well, get comfortable… I’ve got to clean the wound before I can stitch it up. What have you had in the way of pain medication in the last six hours?”

smokebombsandmirrors:

He found himself slowly rousing awake. There was knocking. Very loud and urgent knocking and at some odd time. Standing he went to walk and forgot about completely about his bad thigh. He half screamed from the pain. “Holy!! Mother of !! OWWWW!! Damn it that hurt.” 

He limped from the living room to the front door and unlatched the series of locks. Opening the door he stared up at Hakuba in mild surprise mixed with happiness.  ”You came back.”

Hakuba heard the yell and the heavy, limping footsteps, and found himself staring in exasperation by the time Kaito opened the door. “I… well you asked me to, didn’t you? You need medical attention; I thought you’d fallen unconscious!”

It was then that the detective smelled the alcohol on his breath, saw the sleep in his face, and sighed, shoulders sagging under the weight of the duffel bag. At least with the very little that Kaito was wearing, he could easily see the wound, irritation giving way to concern as he conceded that he had made the right decision to deal with his ridiculous former classmate.

“Come along back inside; let’s get you patched up…" 

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.