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“Oh it’s you.”

The sigh was on his tongue in an instant (mixed with a little regret at even speaking because this probably could have been avoided), and he slowly lowered his coffee down onto the counter, preparing for the oncoming explosion.

The man in front of him looked, sputtered, successfully choked on his drink in hand, and then proceeded to offer him a look of wide eyed disbelief. “Oh my god why did it have to be you. Why is this happening again. Why.”

“Well excuse me,” he replied, nothing short of professional because he was a professional, and professionals were above children. The magician managed to spill the ghastly substance all over his white slacks and honestly despite his sarcastic tone Shinichi was quite proud of himself.

“Ah, damn it. And I thought this was going to be a good day...” he muttered on, trying to wipe out the stain even though it was basically a futile effort (although with this man he never really knew).

“Once again, you do realize we’re in the same boat?” the detective questioned, lifting his coffee back up from the counter and regarding the indigo eyed man with a sense of delacacy. (Get too close and his hair might never stay the same).

“Which makes me hate this situation even more!” He lifted his hands in the air, and huffed out an over dramatic sigh. His beverage had also mysteriously disappeared while little bits of confetti rained down atop Shinichi’s head. “I refuse to give my sympathy to a dead body attracting detective!” he announced to the world.

“I hate you.” The detective glared.

“Right back at you.” The magician smirked.

Even though it was a well known fact to the two that they were basically destined to meet throughout every life cycle, that also meant they didn’t like each other. Because, well uh, they were rivals? Shinichi wasn’t really sure how it started. But he was also pretty sure the amount of times the magician managed to dye his hair never went down throughout the years, so there’s his proof. They were rivals. Destined enemies. And everytime they met in a coffee shop, Shinichi was left with some form of spilt coffee.

He cradled the to-go cup defensively towards his chest and glared. “Well, maybe if you stopped going to coffee shops we’d stop having to meet in them. Honestly, everytime I swear there’s a fifty-percent chance of encounter walking through the doors.”

The magician looked abashed, and Shinichi silently prayed for the other people by the condiments station. The barista was still trying to get his attention. “Why does it have to be me? You go to them just as much as I do.” The detective rolled his eyes.

“You know I live off coffee right? Plus, you can’t possibly still want to drink that diabetes-inducing substance after what, like, six lifetimes?” He eyed the disgrace and then the popped lid in his hand.

“Hot chocolate is nothing short of a delacacy! You—you black sludge drinking fiend!”

“Judging by the amount of whip cream you just put on that, you are definitely not one to talk.”

“I don’t need your criticism!”

“You’re the one who started it!”

There was a moment of silence as both detective and magician huffed, with the barista silently praying they’d leave before one or the other attempts murder (that seemed to happen a lot in this particular café), and customers fleeing out of their direct vicinity. Kuroba buried his face into his cup and when he emerged it was with whip cream decorating his nose. Shinichi opened his mouth.

“Say it and so help me god I’ll revive Kaitou KID.”

The detective’s mouth fell closed with an audible click and the ex-thief took that moment to grab a handful of napkins and flee, murmuring something about dead bodies and coffee shops. Shinichi was about to sigh in relief when his cup’s lid exploded in confetti and the end result was scolding liquid all across the front of his suit.

His eyebrow twitched. “Might I remind you I can commit the perfect murder without anyone finding out, Kuroba!

“Ha! That’s funny, but I’d like to see you try and catch me first, Kudou!” And with that the magician was out the door, with the bell ringing and Shinichi left to stand in a puddle of coffee and confetti with glitter generously falling from his hair.

It was first encounters like these that reminded Shinichi why they hated each other and why they would never get along.

It also served as a reminder that they’d had their first encounter a total of eighty four times now, and from the looks of it, immortality would always be a bitch.

He sighed as he made his way out the doors.

 


 

The most recent memory Shinichi had of Kuroba Kaito was not in a coffee shop. Instead it was a couple years back while he was visiting Vegas due to a serial killing case they’d requested him on. He hadn’t expected much, but in a matter of days and with the help of the LVMPD he had his suspect cornered and all the evidence to get him a life sentence.

What Shinichi hadn’t expected, however, was for the guy to throw down a smoke bomb of all things (apparently he was an amateur magician whenever he wasn’t chopping up body parts?) and steal his partner’s car. Which led him to spotting the fastest car he could find (an Aston Martin One-77) and running up to the driver’s side in mid-traffic to hopefully lend the vehicle with a flash of his temporary FBI badge.

Instead he was met with Kuroba Kaito.

Hell no I’m not letting you drive my car!”

“There’s a serial killer, please Kuroba!” He pleaded, watching hopelessly as his partner’s corvette sped around the corner.

“And I said no!” At this point Shinichi was seriously considering drawing his gun and shooting the man (it’s not like he’d die anyways).

“You’re still mad about Prague aren’t you?” he said, exasperated when the man in front of him tensed. He was definitely still mad.

“Of course I’m still mad about Prague, you burnt my house down! You can’t possibly tell me it was just a coincidence that you aimed the bomb directly at my bedroom window. There was miles, meitantei, miles of river right beside you!” Horns honked behind them and Kuroba gripped the steering wheel.

Shinichi held his hands up in surrender, eyeing Kuroba like he was a startled animal (he could lash out at any time). “Alright, I promise I won’t burn your house down in the next ten years or so, okay?”

Two seconds went by before Kuroba replied with, “Fine, get in the trunk.” Play it cool, play it cool, play it cool...

“I’ll buy you chocolate?” he asked, and Shinichi watched as the magician’s chin raised slightly as he swallowed. He was too easy.

“Get in the front seat or nothing.”

“Fine.” He slid around the hood of the car—much to the magician’s angered shouts and his own smugness—before swinging the door open and practically jumping onto the leather seat.

Kuroba’s reaction was immediate, and he had the car speeding through the traffic behind the disappearing corvette. Though Shinichi would’ve already been on his tail had he been driving, it was more like the magician to sense his inner thoughts and comment, “Don’t judge my speed when we both know you’d have killed more people than the serial killer if you were driving right now, meitantei.”

He maybe would’ve laughed if he wasn’t carrying an armed weapon, but only maybe. “Just saying, perhaps you’re getting a little rusty... Lacking a few car chases in your day, KID?” he said, mostly out of spite. Knowing the thief he was probably a race car driver on the side, god knows he loves motorbikes too.

“At least I have a car. Seems yours is a little... busy, at the moment.” He grinned, and Shinichi held back a sigh.

“Yah, well we can’t have it all, can we thief.”

“Right back at you, meitantei.”

They eventually caught the killer, Kuroba actually being the one to succeed in handcuffing him (magician’s right apparently—also those were definitely Shinichi’s cuffs) but not after Shinichi pulled out a few too many strands of his hair, and was left duck taped to a wall. With a KID suit on. And a sign that read, “I solemnly swear to not burn his house down. Also I owe him chocolate. A lot of chocolate.”

And for some reason he was fine with that.

He may have even laughed a little, but it’s not like he was telling him that.

 


 

Shinichi was on his way back to the station with no coffee in hand (the barista refused to serve him again and he nodded his head because he probably wouldn’t serve him either) and still dripping wet with the coffee he wished he’d had.

In addition to people looking at him like he was painted with confetti and glitter (which he was) he was also sure he’d seen a few reporters lurking about. Because ‘famous detective covered in glitter’ screamed Kaitou KID and they were always on top of that, what with him constantly reappearing so as not to be forgotten. (Little did they know it was the same bored idiot with too much time on his hands).

But no, this time it was just a pestering magician with too much glitter on his hands and a pranking habit about the size of his IQ—four hundred, he wouldn’t let Shinichi forget.

All in all the officers at the station offered him pitying looks, and he quickly scrummaged for his set of spare clothes only to find a pink frilly dress complete with all the necessary jewelry accompaniments for a perfect eight-year-old’s Halloween costume.

He wanted to scream.

Instead he calmly asked the inspector for a set of station clothes, and was rewarded with a Tokyo metropolitan police department t-shirt, along with a pair of athletic shorts that were three sizes too large.

This was not Shinichi’s day.

He was also going to kill a certain magician no matter how immortal he may think he is. Starting with finding him.

He set to work on the computer, ignoring his miniature stack of case files in favour of the more relevant issue—his counterparts demise. He went through searches of homes under the name Kuroba Kaito and found a grand total of eight. All but one had something in common, which was to say seven of the eight weren’t stupidly high above the ground like the apartment he was looking at now.

He turned off his computer and stalked towards the door. The other officers making a gathered effort to stay out of his way by sending discreet hand signals across the halls. Obviously not discreet to him, but he could care less right now. They’d never seen him like this, and he’d wished he’d never seen Kuroba Kaito, but it seems everyone’s luck was running out today.

(Obviously he didn’t mean that though, because Kuroba was... who was Kuroba to him again?)

 


 

There was a reason why Shinichi was banned from several airlines, and funnily enough it wasn’t because of the murders. More like the first time he met “Kuroba Kaito” or, as he’d known him at the time, Kaitou KID (and many more times after that).

He’d been on his way to Dubai for an international case he’d been working on with Interpol—something about them wanting him to drive cars?—and in his defense he hadn’t realized a plane to Dubai could be overbooked, but here he was stuck at airport for what looked to be—he checked his watch—close to two hours and counting.

He would have been reading had Interpol not deemed nothing but the essentials necessary on this particular trip (and damn it, books were essential too!), so instead he was on his phone trying to catch a recap of the last Tokyo Spirit’s game.

The gates around him seemed to be slowly deserting as passenger upon passenger departed for their respected flights, and he was now in the process of raking his mind for something to do in hopes of relieving his boredom.

He spotted coffee.

A passerbyer and the faintest smell of heaven had him on his toes, and walking towards the brightly lit counter just a few gates down.

Shinichi ran a hand through his hair and stretched freely when he realized the aisle was more or less empty. He took his time browsing through the poorly paced romance novels along with the cheap souvenirs this particular place had to offer before heading up to the counter.

Somebody beat him to it.

“Hot chocolate, please.” Shinichi wasn’t one to judge but a grown man and hot chocolate just didn’t seem to mix in his mind. (Although he probably shouldn’t overestimate people’s ages, he himself was a few hundred despite looking nothing over 20).

A swing of dark, chocolate colored bangs brought him out of his thoughts, and he leveled his eyes on the man’s figure.

Calm and collected, confident yet careful. Suit and tie, along with a smirk that screamed egoist.

He was definitely looking at the Kaitou KID. There was basically no doubt in his mind, especially when his eyes came into view.

Locked onto his. Indigo the deepest shade he’d ever seen.

...and then he turned away, and proceeded to start walking towards the nearest exit.

Too bad the place literally had nowhere to hide, and he only walked outside open walls with a huge open space terminal in front of him, that was also deserted, with Shinichi still looking at him. Smirking, Shinichi watched as he sat down and took in the sweat positively on his temple, while he cradled his hot chocolate to his face.

Like that’ll save you, thief.

He ditched the coffee in favour of his newest target, with quick strides, until he was directly in front of him. KID looked completely calm now and he would’ve been appalled if not for the tapping fingers against his cup. The only que he hadn’t realized he’d made.

“You are KID.” No question about it.

The other narrowed his eyes as his brows drew together. “I’m not a kid.”

“Then how old are you?” Shinichi asked, watching intently as the other quirked an eyebrow.

“Rather personal question, don’t you think?” he looked back down in his cup and resumed tapping his fingers, Shinichi smirked.

“I wouldn’t say so... I myself am a few hundred years old, so I’d like my theory proven now or I could always bring out the cuffs—”

KID lurched forward. “Wait, you mean you’re...?”

“Immortal, yes.” He straightened his suit jacket and sat down on the row of seats facing him. “So unless I didn’t actually see you slip off a sixty story roof and survive it three days ago, I’d say you are as well.”

“I didn’t slip.”

Shinichi resisted the urge to face palm. “That’s what you take away from that? And yes, you clearly did!”

“Whatever...” the thief grumbled.

A few moments passed in silence until Shinichi decided he’d take his chances at talking.

“So do you know how it happened?” He approached carefully, perking up all the while. That question had been on his mind for the longest time, and he finally had his first clue!

“That’s proprietary information.” So much for a first clue.

“Which means you have no clue.”

The other threw his hands into the air and small confetti rained down around them. “You are insufferable, meitantei.”

Shinichi dead panned. “And you’re an over the top, egotistical, dramatic, incompetent—”

“Really? You can’t just pick one and insult me already,” he was now fiddling with a deck of cards and Shinichi’s eyes followed the movements naturally, “Honestly meitantei, I don’t have all day.”

Shinichi snorted. “Yah but you sure got a few years left, so I think you can let me say what’s on my mind.”

“I’m on your mind?”

And he’d basically ran right into that one.

“Shut up.”

“Oooh, meitantei’s blushing~!” KID sang, and Shinichi buried his face with his hands.

“This is going to be the worst flight ever.”

“I agree.”

It was, in fact, a mix of both catastrophic and detrimental as the two took off. He’d say something, then the magician would, then he’d reply, while the magician dyed his hair... Eventually the end result was a redecorating of the entire right side of the plane—bright pinks and blues—along with a generous spray of kickable objects, glitter, and cyanide because a murder occurred shortly after at the front of the plane as well.

So much for covert, he’d thought, and so much for his previous plans of returning using the same airline.

Shinichi had learned something though. That the magician was more comfortable in the air, and that was definitely an explaination for his unnatural attraction to tall buildings and the act of jumping off them. What had really made him realize the truth to his point, however, was after they’d sat in silence for over two hours (the magician fiddling with cards and listening to music, Shinichi watching his every move), and after they’d boarded the plane, even after he’d started throwing paint balls around... the magician answered his unspoken question with a name.

Kuroba Kaito, magician extraordinaire.

And that was information he could live with.

 


 

He made his way home, ignoring the look the taxi gave him and instead resolving to sigh behind his brief case. His hair was still soaking wet and he’d need a shower before he did anything drastic. He had to approach the situation with a clear head, a clean suit, and a nice steaming cup of coffee.

Closing the door to the taxi a little harder than strictly necessary, he started for the front porch of the Kudou mansion (being his “descendant’s cousin’s, descendant’s, descendent”, he still had a written right to the land) and unlocked the door.

It was a wonder he even got through the door, what with the bucket of chocolate milk pouring itself on his head. It was at that moment that Shinichi reflected, in all his hundreds of years living, why he didn’t just move houses so that the thief didn’t have the ability to do this every. Damn. Year.

Well there goes him writing another check for floor replacement. Because apparently Kuroba also pays them. Everytime.

Now that he actually thought about it, Kuroba’s replaced a great deal of his stuff, and never even hesitated in it too. Shinichi must suppose it’s for reasons like these that they can still maintain a certain civility with each other, but it’s also for that realization that his breath halts.

Water trickles down his back as he realizes Kuroba has never once sent him a bill. Not for the multiple houses burnt down, not for the cars he’s crashed. Not even for the time he accidentally let a bunch of wild rabbits go loose in the magician’s private theater.

He also made tasteless jokes which always seemed to make him laugh, had a smile as bright as the sun but never used in front of him, and saved kittens from trees in his spare time when he thought no one was looking. But Shinichi was always looking, like a moth drawn to a flame and he never once explained himself. When asked, he’d always be gone the moment Shinichi turned back...

Shinichi momentarily wondered where they’d gone wrong. 

A sticky clump of glitter managed to dismiss the thought away, but the lingering sense of something remained. For some reason all he could think about was Kuroba, and he promptly started bashing his head against the wall. 

Now was not the time to be second guessing anything to do with the magician.

He is a thief, you are a detective. You’re rivals. Get over it. 

He got out of the shower with a bubbly feeling in his chest that just wouldn’t go away, and decided the unrelenting desire to kick a soccer ball (at someone’s face) would come first.

Maybe he’d do that as his plan tonight.

He thought all about it as he picked out a suit—he decided on the Zegna he only ever wore outside of work—and settled on a list of things he’d plan for. Because if Kuroba wanted to have a year long prank battle, Shinichi would give him a year long prank battle. His current ideas involved copious amounts of fish and coffee (he prayed for the wasted coffee but felt it necessary) as well as a lot of things to do with KID.

Sure he was grinning to himself like a mad man, but nobody ever said he couldn’t do so in the security of his own home.

He picked up the soccer ball in his closet, put on his Tom Ford’s, and grabbed the keys hanging on the wall. Also making sure to use the garage door, as his current front door was seemingly occupied (by a large quantity of chocolate).

Swinging the keys on his fingers he suddenly dropped them in favour of looking at the empty spot in his garage. Where his motorcycle should have been. But was now not.

He wrote another check.

And while he would have taken the car, he felt the need to protect everything he owned, and therefore left in the same taxi he’d arrived in. With the same glare on his face. (And making sure to get in on the other side as to avoid the coffee stain and glitter).

Although he couldn’t help but smirk as the taxi driver eyed his soccer ball wearily.

Hell yah this was going to hurt.

 


 

The first time Kaito met Kudou Shinichi, he was ninety-nine percent sure his face was going to be bright purple by the time he got home—healed by morning, but definitely purple—because, damn that hurt.

He’d been in the middle of donning his white suit and cape for the first time in years, and suddenly some sort of wannabe Vogue advert shows up out of nowhere claiming he knew his disguise. Who the hell does that? He then proceeded to label himself as detective, while shoving a soccer ball so far into Kaito’s cheekbone he was sure he’d need a lot more than fast healing if he was going to stop seeing stars for five seconds.

More like the bane of Kaito’s existence at the moment.

Who did he think he was? What, with his cowlicky hair, and lean muscles, and perfect jaw—honestly the guy was a joke, and Kaito was about ready to throw a gas bomb over his head and be done with it. Although, probably the only thing the guy had going for him was something like a really nice pair of eyes that made Kaito want to keep them open. But that definitely wasn’t the explanation for his sudden increase in heart rate.

He’d be jealous if he wasn’t so hung over and enamoured with him, to say the least.

His deductions had been perfect, precise, faultless... if only the inspector had believed him, maybe they could’ve gone somewhere. But once again, it was something in those azure eyes that told him the detective wasn’t betting on it anyways. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t as caught off guard as he should have been when the detective rushed him on the roof. Stopping, bent over and panting, with a smirk that screamed he had an ego as big as the sun, while somehow looking dashing through and above it all.

That’s it. He definitely never wanted to see this guy again.

Which was the most likely reason he now had an up and coming bruise on his left cheek, but the aesthetic appreciation that was Kudou Shinichi was currently taking priority in his mind as of this moment.

Kaito suddenly wanted to get out of there as fast as possible.

That was... an interesting thought. He shifted his weight to the balls of his feet and straightened.

“So, are jewels what you’re after or do you just really like dressing up as female CEO’s in your spare time?” the detective mused, all snarky and sarcastic with just the right amount of I-may-or-may-not-know-everything-about-you that set Kaito on edge. Kaito loved it.

He took a step closer to the roof, grinning all the while. “Although, I do have the legs for it, I’d have to go with the first option. After all, it’s probably the easier of the two hobbies.” He held the jewel up to the sky, grin only widenning as he heard the impatient huff from behind him. “Plus every city needs their own neighborhood friendly jewel procurement connoisseur, don’t you think, detective~?”

The detective scoffed. “Arrogance won’t stop you from being arrested, KID.”

“Oh, but it will improve my self confidence~” and if he said it a little too quickly, no one would be none the wiser. Putting the gem away, he fiddled with his hang glider.

“Why did you hold it up to the sky like that?” the detective asked, curiousity flooding his expression and Kaito had the answer prepared on his tongue in an instant. It was a common question, if not a little expected by now, but what wasn’t expected was how he laughed instead. Nervously. He was sweating. He never broke a sweat. This was definitely new.

“I don’t know, why’s the sky blue?” His hang glider was out now and his feet were just touching the sky.

He edged even closer to the sixty story drop in front of him, he could feel the welcoming of freedom whistle through the wind. His wings were cut short by a smooth tone.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

His foot hovered. Dead still. “Oh, and why’s that?”

“Because a hang glider can’t fly when it has a few pieces missing, you should at least know that much KID.” He moved his head ever so carefully to the side and took in the ripped, and tarnished cape. Seems the detective had caught him off guard with a pair of scissors or the like. His grin only grew, and damn it he was falling hard. “You’re under arrest. I’ve got you cornered, KID.”

As if he’d let that stop him. He went to reach for his grappling hook and quickly eyed the building’s in the vicinity. Okay, he could work with this, he was always twenty steps ahead after all, and he’d only have to move slightly closer...

Turning to his left had him face to face with startling blue azure, pale skin, and cheeks a warm dusted pink from either the cold or the previous chase. A smirk welcomingly in place, and it was all too quick that he found himself encircled in the man’s arms. Face to face. And with the closeness of his lips...

Nope, no thanks. No more of that for Kaito, he was not thinking about this right now, and he quickly dismissed the handcuffs around his wrists. Backing up at the speed of light, he found his way back to the edge, but his legs were already giving out by the time he regained his balance—

He slipped off the roof.

Off the sixty story roof, and as he fell he could only think of how much this was going to hurt. Also with the detective frantically calling his name... but honestly he didn’t have it in him to reach for his grappling hook. He probably wouldn’t believe the whole immortality thing anyways, thus he let himself fall and wished for the best—he was a magician after all, so it made sense. Kind of.

The fact that he didn’t actually go splat on the ground, but instead walked away like it was nothing. The look on the detective’s face was priceless, and he felt pretty proud of himself leaving an awed detective in his wake, like he was never to be seen again.

Shinichi found him three days later in a coffee shop at an airport.

He was also immortal. That was news. Meaning he held the biggest secret over Kaito’s head and he’d hold it for eternity.

Why was Kaito’s life like this again? He wish he knew. But for now he’d be keeping his distance. After all, he was a man of many talents and avoiding detective’s was definitely one!

Although, if that were true maybe he wouldn’t be suffering from a mild panic attack on a plane to Dubai, or on a sightseeing tour in Amsterdam, or a polo tournament in London.

Because everywhere he went from now on, a certain detective seemed to follow.

He told himself he’d get used to it, but that only made him blush more.

 


 

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit was about the first thing going through Kaito’s mind when his doorbell rang. He could accurately predict one very angry detective on his doorstep but he didn’t want to believe it.

Maybe it was his neighbor asking him for flowers again? Ha, he wished. At eleven pm that seemed highly unlikely. Narrowing it down to only two other people—Hiroshi, his personal pizza delivery guy, or Akari, his most recent stalker—he had to consider the fact that he hadn’t ordered pizza and he’d gotten a restraining order less than three weeks ago. So he was pretty sure it was his detective.

He also really needed more friends (and ones who don’t turn out to be crazed stalkers after you reject them for the third time).

Nevertheless, he made his way towards the door on light feet, trepidation with each coming step as he swiftly weaved a wire around the door handle ensuring quick opening. He then stood a safe couple of meters away, and hesitantly swung the door open with a flick of his wrist.

He had four seconds to duck before the detective was raining all hell loose with a soccer ball directed straight at his face. He was glad to say he avoided that one and smirked triumphantly. “You missed meitantei—!”

Yah, that smirk quickly fell apart underneath the detective’s as the ball hit him square in the back of the head. “How...?” he groaned, face planted on the floor as the ball rolled innocently past his head.

“Floor plans.” and didn’t need to look up to know the death defying smirk that was plastered on the man’s face. That was normally what led Kaito to believe the man was literal kryptonite.

Floor plans.” Kaito groaned, and from that information alone he calculated just how Shinichi had visualized a 140 degree angle kick off of his refrigerator to hit his head, in the span of seconds it took Kaito to jump off a building. All with floor plans.

Was it possible to die from being impressed? Because right now Kaito was way more turned on then he should be for a man lying half dead on the ground (well, he wished).

It wasn’t until his eyes met the soles of black leather Tom Ford’s walking towards him that he got the sudden urge to curl up into a ball. Sure he’d swam through pools without oxygen for over ten minutes, fallen off a few buildings in his day, but Kudou Shinichi was not something he was ready to face. Especially after he—

You crashed my motorcycle into a flower shop!” Well, that.

“They were frauds and scammers and half the flowers they sell were fake anyway—!”

Suddenly a weight was added to his back and it didn’t take long for Kaito to realize the detective was basically straddling him. Well shit.

“You crashed. My motorcycle. Into a flower shop.” The detective now had a roll of duck tape and was definitely unwinding it with his teeth because his hands were currently occupied holding Kaito’s behind his back. “‘nd mh doarh, ‘nd clorths, ‘nd cofffe!” Kaito was kind of trying really hard not to laugh. Shinichi was also crushing his lungs. “Why!”

Kaito’s hands were now successfully duck taped and the detective was now pressing a significant amount of his body on him.

He couldn’t necessarily tell him the truth, because Kaito does a lot of stupid things and for some reason he tends to centre those things around Shinichi. For example, he’s a kleptomaniac who uses that as an excuse to steal things for attention (mostly Shinichi’s), which is his basis reason for continuously reviving KID... but in all honesty he’d accidentally hit the out of nowhere nitro button and his plan of putting it on display in The Beika Museum kind of backfired, so. That essentially left him with lying. And he couldn’t do that, because, well. Detective.

Although that never stopped a famous thief such as himself from doing the impossible~!

“Simple,” he started, taking a breath for the extra dramatics (and also to listen to the detective’s breath hitch), “Revenge.”

Kaito suddenly felt the detective tense on top of him, and he kind of wished that was in different context right now.

He narrowed his eyes. “All for what happened back in Paris.”

A sigh of enlightenment was heard from behind him and Kaito knew he’d hit gold.

 


 

Kaito loved Paris. That was a given. Any city that had an overly large collection of art, along with multiple chocolatiers held a warm place in his heart. Which was why, in his time of lonesome winter blues, he’d settled into a floor apartment suite to spend the next year or two. Plus KID needed some more European game if he was going to latch on the multiple Arsène Lupin fans.

All in all, it was a well thought out plan, and he’d already made the few million dollar deposit from his overseas account into the new home. He was going off the story that he’d inherited a will from his grandfather, and he’d already opened a flower shop in the building right underneath to start getting his name around in the community. It was perfect. (Plus a whole building to himself didn’t sound too bad).

Obviously he needed some downtime before he became a world famous magician again. Can’t do that every year, you know? And whether it was running a flower shop, teaching physics, working as a dealer at the casino, being a professional poker player—hell, he’d even made it as a professional pianist—he also really loved every other profession that was sent his way.

Although there were some he never wanted to talk about again (cough, detective) but it was the new experiences that came along with them that he never really got tired of.

Which was why he was currently cutting the stems off the roses he’d been keeping out back and why he also turned to face the newly entering customer upon hearing the doorbell ring. He automatically turned to face the flowers again.

Maybe if he didn’t look he wouldn’t notice. Why was he even in a flower shop? He didn’t—he didn’t have a girlfriend did he? No that was dangerous territory, Kaito. Don’t go there, just—just keep looking down. Cut flowers, keep cutting, keep—

“Kuroba, thank god! I need to borrow your motorcycle, it’s the one out front right?” His hand stopped on the third blue rose and he slowly exhaled. Please don’t be wearing a suit, please don’t be wearing a suit...

He was wearing a suit. And it was a Burberry. Charcoal too—the tie matched his eyes.

At this rate the only thing he could do would be to stall.

“What brings you to my flower shop, meitantei.” And okay, yah he sounded a bit bitter. But maybe that’s because he’d successfully forgotten about the detective for the two weeks he’d been in Paris so far, and then he just had to show up demanding a motorcycle.

(Also the fact that he now knew the detective could ride a motorcycle was probably the most destructive thing he would find out that day and he kind of wanted to cry. Well of course he could, he’s fucking Kudou Shinichi, his inner conscience helpfully supplied).

“Stolen plans from a tech group overseas that has the whole Paris transit system on lockdown because of high tech bombs and a career long grudge. Can I borrow your motorcycle?” he asked, the epitome of calm—if not a little exasperated (probably from running).

Kaito slowly closed his eyes and sighed. “Meitantei, why do you even ask when you put it like that?” He reached for the keys in his pocket and tossed them towards the now running detective.

While it turns out him borrowing Kaito’s motorcycle had probably saved a couple thousand lives, said motorcycle also ended up lodged in the window of Kaito’s shop and Kaito had the opportunity of watching Kudou Shinichi take down a terrorist who was running at him with a bomb. Also watching the bomb go off after laying forgotten in the flower shop with both Kaito and Shinichi (and the terrorist) at a safe distance away was, well.

His flower shop, along with apartment, along with the whole-building-to-himself-deal was now up in flames.

Shinichi ended up apologizing while Kaito moved to New York the next year to take up dancing. He managed to get Shinichi off his mind for a span of six days before he caved. Thus the crying-into-the-tub-of-ice-cream symptom he’d developed for the next couple of months and counting.

 


 

“Shit I kind of, uh, forgot about that...?” The detective said, shifting uncomfortably on Kaito and scratching at the back of his head. Both were at a loss for words and Shinichi seemed to be thinking hard about something, like immensely hard while Kaito just sat in resignation.

Considering this was the most physical contact he’d had in years he wasn’t really complaining. “Is everything alright detective? You seem...”

“Ah, yes, I’m cool—uh, fine. Um, I’ll just, sorry.” He hurriedly got off of Kaito and seemed to zone out just as he stood. Kaito was looking up in awe.

“Detective? A little help here?” he asked, watching as Shinichi’s eyes briefly fell on him, and was it just him or was he blushing? Well, that was a sight he never thought he’d see up close.

He went around Kaito and forcefully picked him up as if he was light as a feather and propped him down on a kitchen chair, hands still duck taped behind his back, and half his body basically asleep. He was surprised to find he wasn’t drooling.

In a second his eyes were locked with the detective and he was receiving the full force of azure at maximum deducing compacity (aka a near aneurysm in Kaito’s case).

“Where are my clothes?” He demanded.

If Kaito was being honest he really wished he had the context to that question because all he could really think about was detective and clothes. Why was he even in his apartment? This was dangerous. Red flags! So many red flags!

“...Clothes?” he hesitated. The detective looked like he was about to break.

“Yes! The ones you stole and replaced with a frilly pink thing that would much better suit an eight-year-old girl?” His eyes were livid now, and Kaito’s sense of all logic was faltering underneath that gaze.

“Um, are you sure you didn’t just mistake Todoroki’s stuff for yours? He’s the one who’s daughter’s having a birthday party this weekend right?” The detective’s gaze softened, and he had a hand on his chin. “Also I’m pretty sure you used your spare clothes last week on the burglary gone wrong when the culprit threw flour at you—you know, the one at the Italian place? Plus Todoroki tends to use your locker when he knows it’s empty, so.”

Shinichi’s brow twitched and Kaito’s eyes followed the movement. “Well what about the chocolate milk?”

“What chocolate milk?”

Shinichi was beginning to pace, and his hand movements were greatly increasing. “You know, the chocolate milk on top of my door. You always do that one, I always send you the bill for my floor.”

Oh, now Kaito got it. He’d solved that case a long time ago, but decided to let the kids have their fun. “You know those kids you always hang out with? Well there’s this one with auburn hair that thought it’d be funny to prank you and record you falling for it, but since you never did anything she just kept doing it. I felt bad when you sent me the check so I just decided to go with it. After all, I can’t ruin a fellow prankster’s fun, you know?”

Also she’d bribed him with the recordings and he wasn’t passing up the chance to see Kudou Shinichi flustered and soaking wet and in chocolate—at the same time. It was an easy choice.

“I didn’t realize she was still keeping at it, she’s like what fifteen years old now? Cheeky ones you got there meitantei.”

“Wait, hold on. You’re telling me I’ve been sending you thousands of dollar’s worth in floor repairs and you just went along with it?” The detective had leaned in, inches from Kaito’s face, and he swore if he wasn’t sweating already he was now.

“...Yes?” Money was never really a problem for him anyways, he’d always make it big no matter what life he leads. Although, the times he’d hit rock bottom after the house incidents hadn’t been very fun...

“How do you even know who Todoroki is?”

Stalking was not the word he wanted to use. Because that would be the truth and the truth wasn’t good. Plan ‘Stay Away From Kudou Shinichi’ always tended to fail, so of course he’d at least keep tabs on him. He realized that from day one when he started walking into coffee shops just to run into the detective, that he couldn’t go through with avoiding him. And yet they’d always meet on the days he least expected. The days when Kaito had been turned down as the opening act, when he’d been evicted from his apartment, or on his way to buy flowers for his parent’s graves...

Then put the one thing that Kaito knew he couldn’t have but always came back to remind him, dead centre on top? Well he’d be surprised with himself too if he didn’t explode a little glitter in the neighboring vicinity.

The amount of times he’d tried to get away from the man at the start of it all was in the hundreds but he always came back. He was always—there, like some sort of James Bond showing up to save the day. Always flawless in everything he’d do, and in all the years Kaito had known him—been immortal with him—he was always an untouchable pillar. Get too close and Kaito knew he’d ruin it.

They were only meant to be rivals. That was it. Or maybe that was just his excuse because he was scared he’d fall even deeper in love with him.

He’d come to terms with that fact only a few years back, but it seems it would take him an immortal lifetime to get over it.

He just wondered why Lady Luck hated him so much.

Kaito coughed into open air, before he sighed—long and with nothing held back. “Because Kaitou KID always keeps tabs on his favourite critics, shouldn’t you know meitantei?”

It wasn’t something he’d expected, but in an instant Shinichi had his back against the door, facing Kaito and slumping down against it. His hands, his body, it almost looked as if he was... shaking?

He took a deep breath, and looked up from where he was leaning against and Kaito almost lost himself on his pained expression. He looked so vulnerable, so small, he was...

“I don’t understand how you expect me to hate you when you say things like that?” It came out like a whisper, like he wasn’t sure of the words himself but Kaito heard it clear as day and his eyes went wide.

“Wait detective, what do you mean expect?” He was slowly edging out of the chair, leaning as far forward as he could. He was about ready to bolt if necessary. This conversation was way passed dangerous by now.

“I can’t—I can’t remember why we hate each other. I don’t know what I did to you or what you did to me, but it’s been like this for years. It’s been years, Kuroba! We’ve known each other for years and I still call you Kuroba! I don’t, I’m not sure what I’m getting at here but I just... you’re a good person and I don’t know how I could have ever possibly hated you.” He gripped the edges of his suit jacket and bit his lip, he made the perfect picture of despair and Kaito hated it.

“Why do you hate me?”

Kaito knew for a fact he could never hate him. But he’d thought...

They were rivals weren’t they? Shinichi was the one who hated him that’s why... “We, uh, we’re rivals, it’s what we’re supposed to do?” It left him more as a question than anything, but this whole situation had him so confused.

“Yes, but you’re always there!” Shinichi belted out, eyes shot out with determination and Kaito couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful he was. “You save me sometimes... countless times, and I’m not sure what it is but I know for a fact that’s not what rivals do. Rivals don’t let each other borrow their motorcycles or burn down their houses without so much as a question about it.”

“I made you apologize didn’t I?”

“And an apology is enough for a million dollar house gone?” Shinichi ran a hand through his hair, combing out the soft and cowlicky mess. Kaito suddenly wanted to touch it, watching as the detective’s chest breathed in and out. “It’s true the first things that came to mind when I thought of you were arrogant, and narcissistic, and troubling, self absorbed—”

“You can stop listing them now.”

“—But in the end of it all, I realized I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You were always on my mind whatever adjectives I put in front of it. And I’m not sure what it means but I don’t want to hate you. Not anymore, I—” he stopped and Kaito was so far on the edge of his seat he swore he could topple down at any instant. He was sure he couldn’t be dreaming because with eyes like those the detective was anything but unconvincing. “I think I love you, Kaito.”

And Kaito took two seconds to take in those words before his mind untangled what he was feeling for what it really was. There was a moment of silence where they just looked at each other before Shinichi’s lip quivered and his mouth opened on, “So if you hate me now—”

Kaito was about ready to break down from the sight in front of him. “God, Shinichi I could never hate you,” he quickly worded, firm in his belief and affection for the man in front of him. “I love you. I always have.” And it had taken him just as long to undo the tape as it had for Shinichi to rush up to him and have the chair fall to the floor as he kissed him senseless.

Warmth spreading across his lips as the tingling, numbing sensation bit his bottom lip, and brushed across his upper mouth. He moaned into it, and all its flavor believing it was perfect. He was perfect.

Kaito was content to say he’d waited years for this moment, and now he’d get to spend years longer living it.

Seems immortality could be okay if he had someone else to live it with him. Someone he’d love till the end of time.

 


 

Omake

“What about when you dyed my hair?”

“Oh that was just a self defense mechanism for when you’d get too close and I’d freak out because you were getting way too close.”

“...Right.”