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.

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?”

smokebombsandmirrors:

Kaito did receive the text and it was far earlier than Hakuba would expect. He could feel it vibrate in the inside pocket of his jacket over his heart. The night’s air was cold and he was starting to sweat. He glance down at his thigh and cursed. Snake’s henchman had caught him good this time, far better than any other. He also remember the way the man arms wrapped around his chest. Shuddering he can to the conclusion that this uniform just needed to be burned.

On a different note one person he thought he saw was Hakuba.  The car was familiar and so was the blonde half draped over it but Hakuba should be in England. He WAS in the UK right? Kaito felt his gut drop and slowly landed onto the roof of his own home. A small notched marked where the hatch opened at. Carefully he lifted the small circular and drop down inside the lair, into the warmth.

He had been seeing things. Things that he wanted to be true. His uniform was removed and thrown into the large metal trash can that sat near the work table. He hissed when he began peeling away the kevlar suit and vest and nearly cried when the material pulled at the wound. Once off he left the suit and vest there and locked up the secret room. Limping around his bed room  with his phone in between his teeth he pulled on a pair of underwear and a much too big shirt and carefully made his way to the bathroom for the first aid kit, then down stairs for the Whiskey.

Once through the gate of his father’s property, Hakuba pulled out his phone to check for messages, and tossed it into the passenger seat when he found none. He went round to the back of the house and down into the underground parking area, which was more like a showroom for his father’s collection of expensive cars, and pulled into his marked area with yet another sigh. What a pointless waste of time that had been. 

He stretched, grabbed the mobile, and slipped out of the car with nothing more than a yawn for commentary. If he’d been in London, there would have been an attendant waiting for him, but the home in Ekoda only employed three others beside Baaya, and none of them would be in at this hour. 

Hakuba made his way through the silent house, footfalls padding on the marble flooring til he came to his bedroom, unlocking the door with the quiet jingle of his keys. It wouldn’t be enough to wake Baaya, he knew, but he didn’t want to take any risks.

The suit jacket came off the moment he stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him, and draped it over the plush recliner. The bottle of wine was still there, mostly untouched, and he poured himself a new glass before walking to the bath, loosening the knot in his tie along the way. Such a miserable night…