Lucci made a point of being sure of everything that he did, but one thing that endlessly eluded him was the point at which he had decided that Kaku was going to be his. If he had to guess, he would say that it had probably been when he was 21. He'd been filling out paperwork and covertly watching Kaku blatantly watch him back, reading every nuance of thought that passed through those entranced and unguarded eyes until the confused emotions had hit a crescendo and he had gotten up and left the room, and as Lucci smirked and finished his work a single jarring thought had interrupted the smooth flow of his consciousness and sent everything grinding to a halt for a brief moment, and thought had been: Mine.

Quite possibly, however, it had been long before that. It might have been when he was 17 and overseeing a training session for the potential Cipher Pol members and had found his attention held by one of them, the one that everyone else seemed to overlook because he looked funny or talked a little strange. Lucci couldn't ignore him. He was strong for his age, and determined, and he didn't stand at ease and joke with the other recruits behind the instructor's back, so Lucci watched him. Curious, fascinated, but not mocking, and then the young recruit had caught him looking and his eyes had widened and he had turned away, and Lucci raised an eyebrow but vowed to keep and eye on him.

That might have been the beginning of it, but the defining moment had been years later when he was 21, and he remembered that he had been eating an apple at the time, and so when he finally decided to make his move he had incorporated that (more to mess with Kaku's head than anything, but also to warn him, he supposed). He'd never been exactly sure whether to be annoyed at himself or think it appropriate that he had waited so long, but really, everything was about timing. He had waited for the right moment.

Lucci was tempted to call it an ambush, but only because that was what it was, in all honesty (and he knew how Kaku was about honesty; he knew everything about Kaku). Stealing Kaku's extra key and hiding in the dark of his room with the light cut off, lying in wait, and attacking as soon as he entered the room; yes, technically it was an ambush. Lucci liked ambushes; they got him what he wanted quickly and easily, and they were always interesting to stage.

Kaku never stood a chance, but then he didn't put up much of a fight either, when Lucci pinned him to the wall and stole the breath from his lungs and any semblance of rational thought from his mind. He didn't struggle, but he did shudder in an enjoyable manner when Lucci unbuttoned his shirt and he made the most attractive noises all through the affair; Lucci decided that the nonsensical things he said were his favorite part of Kaku's vocabulary. Clearly, Kaku had no idea what he was doing, but Lucci found that the fingers digging into his shoulders as though holding on for dear life were good enough. He resolved to teach him some things the next time.

Lucci hadn't actually planned for there to be a next time, but there was. And a time after that. And sometime after that Kaku had come to him, and Lucci had let him in. Never was there intent for it to continue at the beginning, but continue it did, for five years. Lucci sometimes looked back and wondered exactly why it had gone on the way it did, why it was still going on, why it was obviously not going to stop, and why he didn't mind. It had simply worked out that way, he told himself; sometimes things simply occur, and they are good, and it would be ridiculous to throw them away.

Besides, Kaku was the closest to a match he would ever find. They were both strong, fighters, devoted to justice and to their work (albeit in quite different ways), and together they were an unstoppable force. They were a team, and a good one, and nothing could truly defeat them.

Another thing that struck Lucci as odd sometimes, when he cared to think about it, was the way he had never cared to break the unspoken bond of what could most accurately be called their relationship. Not once in five years had he ever been unfaithful, and not once had he ever wanted to (for if he had ever wanted to, he simply would have). And when he did stop to think about this, it was almost startling in a way. It made him consider dire possibilities about himself. Ones that involved emotions. The juxtaposition of Lucci and emotions was never a pleasant affair.

Eventually, though, Lucci had come to the conclusion that he did not love Kaku, just as he loved nothing at all (aside from blood, possibly, and the rush of a good kill). Still, Kaku was somehow more than an amusing diversion, and Lucci had long since resigned himself to the fact that he would never fully understand why.

Once, he considered telling Kaku that if he could ever truly care for anything, it might possibly be him. But then it had occurred to him, with clinical clarity, that such a statement would be a cruel one to make, and thus he decided against it.

Perhaps the simple fact that he avoided unnecessary malice toward Kaku was a mark of some sort of emotion, but this thought made Lucci smile in a brutally amused sort of way, so perhaps not.