Shinichi finished the case up relatively quickly; quite honestly he was amazed it hadn't lasted longer, what with the sheer amount of suspects with pathetic alibis. But 'relatively quickly' still meant a long night of working, so he didn't haul himself into bed until well past two in the morning. He almost felt bad for it; there was a small army of homework sprawled across his desk, and he knew he was going to have to finish it at some point before the next day. With no small amount of consternation—and exhaustion—he wondered how he could have ever done this before.

Objectively speaking, his life prior to Conan Edogawa wasn't all that long ago, and yet it felt like a dream he remembered so clearly, but could no longer reach. He couldn't relate to this life anymore, throwing it on like a jacket too big, or perhaps one too small. This lifestyle had never bothered him before. He wondered what changed.

Shinichi would be lying if he said he didn't miss being Conan sometimes. The boy had such useless, petty problems—dealing with vapid school children, and all the non-life threatening things they got up to—he could sleep as much as he wanted; and no one ever looked to Conan for the answers. They, quite rightfully, brushed him off as a markedly intelligent but ultimately insignificant child. He wasn't expected to solve cases, the spotlight wasn't on him, the police (and the world at large) didn't look to him to vanish their problems. Were people forgetting he was still eighteen? Still in high school? Not even legal to drink, rent a car or even book a hotel on his own?

Not to mention, Conan didn't have any issues with his social life. Considering his social life consisted of a whole lot of small children and Ai, this wasn't all that surprising. More to the point though, Ran loved Conan; Ran and Conan didn't have any problems. They didn't have years worth of history threatening to overcome them; they didn't have the past to lie between them, like an endless channel he couldn't cross.

They'd had one conversation since he had returned to his true self, and it was one so painfully awkward he wanted to muffle himself in his pillow and die just thinking about it.

He's not entirely sure how it all went so poorly, especially when he was trying so valiantly to keep the conversation light. He knew there were things they needed to discuss—a lot of things—but he'd probably rather shoot himself in the foot than ever get around to addressing them. He wanted to let sleeping dogs lie. This would all blow away with time. Everything did.

Yeah, well, that didn't work. She had somehow finagled him into talking about their feelings. For each other. Or his lack thereof. He had come clean with her, because he couldn't lie to her about something so important, or brush her off. He told it to her straight; he loved her, but not like that. She was his oldest and most cherished friend, there was no girl he loved more than her—but she was a friend nonetheless.

Suffice to say, she had not taken that very well.

Apparently she had expected him to propose.

Go figure.

He wondered where she had even gotten such an outlandish idea—Sonoko, no doubt—because he had never given the thought a lingering chance in his brain. Ran was… Ran. She was funny, and she was pretty, and they got along horribly and yet it always managed to work out. He had to privately admit they both might be onto something; he could imagine his life if he hadn't been turned into Conan. Dating Ran was definitely something inevitable. Maybe even marrying her.

But there was no sense idling on what could have been.

The point is that he had been Conan, and though he fought tooth and nail to return to being Shinichi he couldn't express how secretly grateful he was for the experience. Getting turned into a small child did wonders for self-exploration. And he had the foresight now to know that he would have been utterly miserable with Ran, hating her, hating his circumstances, hating himself.

He shook his head, turning over in his bed, clenching his eyes shut and willing himself to fall asleep. He was in for a restless sleep.

He didn't see the email light up on his phone.


The skies over Teitan high drooped heavily with rain; dark clouds out in the distance, looking ominous against the quiet sun.

Shinichi watched the clouds roll in with indifference—even if it rained, or hailed, or spontaneously turned into a hurricane, Kaito KID's heist would go on. This was great and all, except this all just meant that Shinichi was practically incited for attendance, no matter how much his body protested against it. He felt absolutely terrible, and no matter how alluring the thief was, all he wanted to do was fall onto his desk and sleep for eternity.

Except every time he tried to sleep that turned out horribly. What was wrong with him?

Ran approached him today. This was strange in and of itself; she'd made ignoring him into a minor art form. Quite frankly he was glad for it, because he couldn't imagine trying to get away from her otherwise. At least this way it seemed the feeling was mutual. At any rate he blinked out of his listless thoughts when she stopped right in front of his desk, looking both commanding and concerned.

"Are you going to the heist tonight?"

It wasn't surprising she knew of it. Her father was a detective (maybe not a good one) and it wasn't like KID was surreptitious about his heist warnings, or subtle in any sense of the word.

He blinked. "Yeah, I guess so." He tried to stop the rising heat on his cheeks, making a valiant effort to not think about KID, or his heist, or what they'd be doing during his heist.

Her expression looked decidedly concerned, softening somewhat. "But… you look like you're going to fall over."

"Me?" He blinked again, as if she could possible be referring to anyone else. "I'm fine!"

"Really," she deadpanned, flatly.

"Yeah," he plastered on a smile, scooting away from his desk. "I'm just—dehydrated." He lied. "Anyway, I'll see you at the heist then?"

"Right." She nodded slowly, not looking at all reassured.

He walked out of the classroom with a wave, making a conscious effort to look far better than he actually felt. The moment he was out of her sight he near doubled over, the vertigo of just standing up making him dizzy, like the floor had dropped from beneath him and his head had dropped the other way. This was really bad. There was nothing Shinichi hated more than being sick, and it seemed like he was getting pretty sick.

Well no shit he was getting sick, he thought, crossly.

He hadn't been able to keep anything down in weeks. He felt dizzy and tired at any given interval of the day and it only seemed to be getting progressively worse. It was a miracle he was even still alive, what with the total lack of nourishment he'd been getting these past few weeks. His only saving grace was lunch, luckily not included in this sick cycle. Even now his stomach churned at the thought of food—but he steeled his determination. He wasn't stupid, for god's sake, if he ditched lunch he'd essentially kill himself.

This had been going on for nearly a month now, and he hadn't been Shinichi Kudo for all that much longer than that.

The thought was ominous.

Was he really sick, or was this a side effect to taking the antidote? His first immediate, and most terrifying thought was that the antidote wasn't working. Maybe APTX was resurging—maybe it had never even left his system. Shinichi clearly remembered the week struggling to adjust to his new (old, technically) body, new muscles, new legs. It was not an experience he would prefer to ever repeat. Or maybe it was malfunctioning—maybe his body was rejecting it. The possibilities were endless, and terrifying.

He debated the merits of calling Haibara, but ultimately thought against it.

He'd called her the moment he had put two and two together and realized there was something wrong with him, and had promptly hyperventilated. He told her his symptoms, none of which interested her.

"Yeah, you're overreacting." She had snorted. "These aren't side effects; trust me, you'd know if it was a side effect?"

"I would?" He returned, worried.

"Yeah. You'd be in such excruciating pain you wouldn't be able to call me anyway."

Oh great.

She went on to lecture him once again on the complications of taking an untested antidote, reminding him that they didn't know what was going to happen to him, because he'd taken a prototype. She had warned him then, and he had totally ignored her; the idea of being himself again far too alluring. It worked in theory, and he'd seen it work in her lab, and that was good enough for him. Anyway he'd heard this whole spiel a thousand times before he'd even taken the damn thing, and he didn't want to call her up only to have to go through it all again.

He'd made a lot of stupid decisions in his life, but he couldn't quite tell if this was one of them.

At any rate, he told himself to calm down and talked himself off the ledge. He was probably fine. Headaches and nausea were probably par for the course—after all, he had just rearranged his cellular structure from the ground up. He should probably be counting his blessings right now; that were a lot of opportunities for this to mess up. He didn't know much about DNA creation, other than the fact that it was supremely difficult and statistically impossible to create, so he could only imagine what kind of miracle it took for his own DNA to recreate itself, not to mention create itself in one coherent piece. He had all four limbs, perfectly working organs, and that was to say nothing of the fact his mind and memories were perfectly intact.

Shinichi shook his head, making straight for the rooftop.

He preferred to eat alone, now that he and Ran were… well, whatever they were. He could sit with other people, but it had gotten tedious as of late. He never had much patience for his fame, and coupled with his foul mood and foul health was a recipe for a disaster.

The rest of the day found his head on the desk, as he dozed off and tried to catch whatever rest he could before the big heist. They usually lasted well into the early morning, and he was aware that afterwards he'd have to start his homework, try for a couple hours of sleep, and get up the next morning frighteningly early for school.

Kaito KID…

Shinichi shook his head. He didn't have the time to think about the enigmatic thief—as much as he may want to, He needed sleep first. And anyway, getting a hard on in the middle of class sounded like the worst idea ever.


At the exact same moment, across the city Kuroba Kaito kicked his feet out under his desk and gave a long yawn.

He'd turned his teacher's hair a rioting shade of green about two hours ago, but the man had yet to notice. None of the kids were saying anything either, so it was debatable how long it would take for him to notice, and for the day to finally start being eventful. Kaito probably shouldn't think of his teacher's hysteria and shouting as eventful, but in a place like this there wasn't much competition for anything else.

He could have prodded the man into finding out on his own—or he could have conjured up a better, more dramatic prank—but ultimately he didn't do either of those.

His classmates were actually impressed that he'd managed to resist the temptation and get through the whole day without any kind of remark on the hair dye at all.

Aoko was not as impressed as the rest of their class. But to be fair, Aoko was rarely impressed with any of his pranks. "Do you ever pay attention?"

"I always pay attention!" He answered winsomely, giving her a cocky grin.

He was aware it was a rather charming visage, but his charm never seemed to work on Aoko. She merely rolled her eyes. Anyway they both knew that was a total lie; Kaito would never bother to give an ounce of his attention to something so unworthy as school. At any rate, his eyes bypassed Aoko to look out the window, where dark clouds gathered angrily upon the horizon.

Weather was inconsequential.

The heist would go on.

The full moon would rise, and the gem would be tested.

Even though Black Organization had formally disbanded, members either killed, imprisoned, or hidden, the Pandora Jewel remained elusive, beyond his grasp, inches away from his reaching fingers. He new that with every waning moon, he was one step closer. Perhaps not as large a step as he'd like, but it was one less gem. He'd been in Japan for quite a while now. Being an internationally acclaimed thief usually meant spontaneous hopping of countries, but Japan was both pleased and horrified to find the infamous Kaito KID was overstaying his welcome.

On the one hand, he was a thief. A wanted criminal. An internationally wanted criminal. No government would ever voluntarily want a wanted criminal in their borders. But on the other hand, no government would ever voluntarily give up the staggering amount of tourism and revenue a Kaito KID heist could bring them, either.

But all this just meant that Japan was starting to get used to having the lovable thief in their country, and the regularity of the heists caused millions to besiege Tokyo city every time a heist was announced.

It was working out well for Kaito, really.

The people adored him, the police detested him yet still never managed to catch him, the government sat around with their hands tied, and perhaps most importantly—

Shinichi Kudo attended every single heist.

He had to admit, he sort of liked having a quase-accomplice. First it had been Conan Edogawa. The surprisingly enigmatic child effortlessly unraveled his plans even when he was sure his plans were perfect. The child continued to surpass him, occasionally giving him some opposition, sometimes just watching the spectacle with amusement.

He'd become something of a watchful critique as time passed, making no effort to really stop him, simply observing and commenting. He certainly never turned him in to the police, despite having ample opportunity to do so. Kaito would think he was five steps ahead of the police, leaping on rooftops and blending into the scenery, breathlessas he skidded to a halt at his final destination to watch his traps spring, when the boy's childish but hidden voice would reach him.

He swore there was something more to the boy than a clever wit and a mind made for puzzles. A lot more. But the boy was even more secretive than he was, and he had never quite gotten around to divulging the boy of his secrets.

The boy would wander up the stairs to his hiding spot, watching him silently as sirens blared in the distance, spotlights flickering above them like dying stars and revolting against the dim, full, moon, and Kaito would turn to him, smirking, and ask him what he thought of his performance. Conan normally had a droll remark or two, but ultimately he'd never chastised the thief for stealing things.

Conan, with his watchful blue eyes, became Kaito KID's sole companion.

And then he disappeared.

Heists rolled around.

The Phantom Thief kept a keen eye out for a little boy with unruly hair and big, uncannily intelligent eyes.

But the night was cold and quiet, with the lingering voices in the distance the only company for the lonely thief.

Eventually, he gave up on his young Tantei-kun, and his venues turned overseas. While boarding a plane every full moon was not only time consuming but also suspicious, there were more hidden jewels than Japan could offer. It would be less of a logistical issue to just stay in Tokyo and wait for museums to get new collections, but if he was being honest with himself, Japan had lost its allure when Conan disappeared.

His searching had once again steered him to the small island country, however, with tales of the elusive Mahou Gem, a jewel said to change color under the full moon.

So Kaito KID sent out his invitations, not for the Black Organization, but in slight hope that one day, Tantei-kun would see it, and he would come. And, of course, for the fans.

Conan didn't come.

But Shinichi Kudo did.

"Kaito," Aoko drawled in a playful voice, drawing him back into the present. "The bell rang ages ago! What on Earth are you thinking about so deeply?"

He shook his head with a smile. "Nothing much. I guess I was just day dreaming."

"Hmm." She frowned thoughtfully, before brightening. "So, want to study after school? There's a new smoothie place that opened down from where Tou-chan works, a lot of kids go to hang out around there." She paused, when she noticed his withdrawn face. "They have good ice cream!"

The thought of ice cream was tempting, however, he had a heist to plan for.

"Can't." Kaito shook his head, immediately fishing for an excuse. "Saguru-kun and I are… studying."

"Together?" Her brows creased. Their animosity was infamous.

Kaito nodded sheepishly. "Yeah… he's the best mathematician in the school, so I figured he could rub off on me some…"

"Well, okay." Her look turned skeptical. "Don't kill yourselves."

"We won't!" He cheered to her retreating back, before immediately whipping out his phone to contact the foreign detective. The last thing he needed was for Hakuba to crush his alibi.

"Yo, detective-chan!" He greeted happily, his only response undecipherable mumbling.

"What do you want?" The blonde eventually answered.

He grinned cheekily, making his way out of the school. "We're studying tonight, okay?"

"We are?" The detective echoed forlornly.

"No. But if Aoko asks, we are."

"And why should I lie for you, again?"

"Cause," He drawled. "I got stuff to do. And you owe me anyways."

"But I—

"Thanks! Love you!" He called loudly, and several students turned their heads curiously. Kaito just grinned at them winsomely. Hakuba made squawks of protest, and Kaito could hear the beginnings of his sputtering retort before he shut the phone.

Sure, he and Hakuba didn't get along, but they had a certain understanding that stemmed from the fact Saguru was aware he was Kaito KID. Of course, Kaito never confirmed his suspicions, but allowed him to believe so anyway. Saguru, for all his talk, wouldn't tell anyone, not when one of his close friends turned out to be the man he was looking for.


Shinichi wanted to die.

Not literally, but at least long enough to cast away his fate.

Ran, for some unintelligible reason that his highly powered sleep deprived brain couldn't fathom, had come to some sort of conclusion about him. And that conclusion was that they were best friends again. She was dragging him out with Sonoko for dessert at some new café—an outrageously girly salon of cupcakes and desirably cute edible delights. His severe headache had worsened, and his stomach seemed to protest to everything on the menu. He'd never been one for sugar, and it appeared there was nothing in this place that didn't have sugar.

"I'm not hungry, honest," he protested weakly.

Ran waved his complaints off. "Get him a smoothie or something, Sonoko-chan." She told the blonde, totally ignoring him, as she ushered him to one of the luxurious pink sofas.

The tables were checkered pink and green with pictures of various fruits. Their's happened to be an orange slice. He glowered at it darkly, cursing his life and anything else he could think of.

"Shinichi—?" Ran blinked curiously at him. "Have you been listening?"

"Huh? Yeah." He nodded absently. "That test in Sociology."

He was a god damn detective. As if he needed that class.

Sonoko returned to them eventually, bringing along a girl with messy hair who reminded him remarkably of Ran. Ran seemed to notice it too, as she stared dazedly at her near look alike with surprise. Sonoko introduced her as Aoko, a friend of hers from Edoka High. The girl was charming and a bit boyish, but Shinichi found her rather entertaining and altogether helpful, as she chided the two girls for bugging him so much, and turned their attentions toward her.

Shinichi couldn't have kept up with their conversation even if he had wanted to; he couldn't get his mind off of the Kaito KID heist.

The broadcasted premeditated crime was a once a month event—and, sometimes more. And Shinichi was pretty sure he knew the reason why. Just the mere thought of it caused him to blush violently, standing up abruptly.

"Shinichi-kun?" Ran questioned, pausing her diatribe to some pop idol to look up at him worriedly.

"I completely forgot I told my mother I'd do some errands for the house today!" He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "I'm afraid I'll have to take my leave now."

Ran looked vaguely disappointed, but she hid it with a smile. "That's alright. Have fun?"

"Err—yeah, thanks." He returned the smile with a forced grin.

He ducked out of there as fast as he could. He needed to leave, anyway. He should probably get home and try to catch a few hours of sleep before the heist. He felt awful. Really he should just skip the heist entirely, but he knew himself well enough to know he wouldn't miss it for the world.

He ended up getting zero sleep, but a lot of headache.

The Junior Detective squad had found him. They'd been using him as a pseudo replacement for Conan for some time now (he wondered if they had somehow made a subconscious connection to him and his younger counterpart) and managed to tail him from the café halfway to his house before he realized they were there. They weren't very sneaky; he was probably in really bad shape if these kids managed to get the drop on him.

Sleep alluded him, however, as he spent the majority of his leftover hours trying to shake off the irritating kids. Usually he found them entertaining, but at the moment, he was too tired to care.

In the end he didn't get any sleeping done at all, and ended up lightly dozing off on the rooftop he knew KID would stop at.

And as usual, Shinichi was right. The thief dropped from the sky, landing gracefully and soundlessly in the moonlight. He pulled out a gem from one of his hidden pockets, examining it in the light. He didn't even notice the detective stirring awake near the door. He was too busy searching the shimmering reflection.

The jewel did change color in the light.

Just not the one he wanted.

The clear surface was usually so translucent it was like looking through a window, even though the gem was almost four fingers in diameter. However, in the full moon it turned an opaque milky sheen, glittering like an opal.

He held it there for some time, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger, staring sightlessly into the open sky.

"You're disappointed." Shinichi noted aloud.

Kaito turned slowly, not in any hurry, already well aware of who the owner of this soft voice was.

The world-famous detective leaned against the wall, looking for all the world like he casually stopped international thieves all the time. (That might not be an exaggeration, actually). Kaito took the opportunity to give him a once over, pleased with what he saw; Shinichi had this really fortunate talent of always looking like he'd just gotten out of bed after a night of raunchy sex. It made Kaito want to be the one who mad him look like that in the first place. He smiled with anticipation at that—his wish might not be all that far off. He may have let his libido get ahead of him though, because when he looked at Shinichi, truly looked, there was something not quite right with his usual unintentional sex-kitten look.

He… looked like he probably should have skipped the raunchy sex and stayed in bed. Possibly forever.

Kaito immediately worried. He didn't look well at all. Was he sick? If so, being out here was not helping; the biting wind lapping at the detective's tousled hair, the astoundingly cold night around them.

What worried him the most was the look in his eyes. Drowsy, unfocused—exhausted. He looked exhausted. It was such a radical difference from the detective he had come to know quite intimately, with his sharp, burning blue gaze never missing a single detail. This above all else was cause for concern. It must take a lot for Shinichi to let all his masks and defenses down, leaving him bare to see; weary and drawn out. When he noticed the thief scrutinizing him, his features turned perfect and inscrutable once again.

He pulled the gem down from where he had held it between his fingers, examining the pearl-white sheen glimmering in the full moon light one last time before he tucked it into his pocket.

Kaito shrugged. "Disappointed? Not really. It just means that there's one less jewel I'll have to steal."

"What's the point in stealing them?" And, with an intense, burning gaze, the detective continued, "What are you after?"

The thief tipped his hat forward, a smirk on his lips. "Immortality."

Shinichi scoffed, clearly assuming he was just joking around.

Kaito only tilted his head, a small smile playing on his lips. Shinichi thought he was lying. He wasn't—he was warping the truth, maybe, but he truly was after immortality. Not for himself, not for anyone. He was after the elusive gem—to destroy it. But he was hardly going to tell the detective of his search for the Pandora Jewel; it seemed to go against everything about their relationship. He knew nothing about the detective, and the detective knew nothing about him. It seemed to be working quite well for them, and he didn't want to ruin this—this whatever they were. He wouldn't give it up for the world.

Their real identities, their lives away from hidden rooftops and seeping moonlight, their ambitions and fears and thoughts... None of that seemed to matter up here—here in their own diminutive little universe, far removed from life as they knew it.

It was strange how many secrets they kept from each other, how little he truly knew about the boy in front of him. And yet, he knew him so intimately as well. He knew every place to lap with his tongue, where to scrape his teeth to make him gasp and writhe in pleasure, where to press his fingers to watch the detective come undone beneath him.

Kaito treaded the distance between he and the detective.

Even in the dim light, he could see the flickering expression—hesitation?—in the boy's face. He tilted his chin up, so he could get a better look at the pale blue eyes. Shinichi's mouth was set in a firm line, unwavering. His shoulders were stiff, however. From what? Fear?


They had played this game for far too long for the detective to be wary.

He took his time prying open soft lips, pinning the shorter boy to the wall, elbow resting on the stone, the other feeling the ridges of his ribcage. So thin… had he been eating? What concern of it was his, if he wasn't? Kaito pointed out to himself. The detective closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around the thief's neck, white fabric soft under his tracing fingertips.

"Here?" He asked breathlessly as they pulled away, resting the back of his head against the wall so he could look up at the shadowed face.

Funny, how long had this been going on?

And never once, had Shinichi seen the other boy's face?

KID chuckled darkly where he mouthed heated kisses along the column of his neck. "Do you have any where else in mind?"

"No." Shinichi groused, casting a dubious look at the floor of the rooftop.

Well, he supposed, they'd certainly done it on worse.


It had stared when he was still Conan. The thief had become something of an amicable menace; someone the child detective found increasingly amusing and interesting.

Perhaps it was that smirk of his, tilted behind his hat, or the lean torso which moved effortlessly in cloaked darkness that attracted his eye. Maybe it was the sharp mind that attracted the detective to him, his plans, his enigmatic secrets the detective never wanted to solve. He was the first and only mystery Shinichi found he didn't want to unravel; he didn't want to pick apart this thief, and lay ruin to the truth he found there.

It was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. He'd never not wanted to know something.

He had no intentions of fully divulging the secretive man—boy, he was fairly sure, from the lean build and youthful voice—of his secrets, in fact, he found the fact he knew almost nothing of the secretive thief sort of… arousing, in a way.

There was something timeless and ephemeral to the thief in front of him, a carefully crafted persona that existed like the art pieces he so deeply enjoyed stealing—Kaito KID was art.

People came to these damn heists like they were the actual openings of the art exhibits themselves. Hell, no one would probably even care about this damn gem if Kaito KID hadn't been trying to steal it. Shinichi knew the actual opening of the exhibit tomorrow would find tides of people waiting at the front doors—and none of them would actually care all that much about precious minerals and stones. They just wanted to see the gem that the infamous Kaito KID had just stolen that night.

And why wouldn't they?

After such an impressive event like this, anyone would want to see it the next day. Anyone would want to feel as if they were close to KID, to feel like they were part of the act, part of this amazing, spectacular show KID put on at every heist.

And for the life of him, Shinichi couldn't tell if he was the same.

It was true, as Conan he enjoyed unraveling the thief's latest plot, and he privately relished every time he thought he'd caught the thief, only to find the thief had one-upped him once again. And it wasn't as if a part of him didn't enjoy the… spectacle of it all. Even if he found them overly-dramatic and sometimes tastelessly theatrical, he could appreciate the complexity of the show Kaito KID created. He could appreciate an artist at work.

There was just something so… refreshing, to the man. He was a thief, a delinquent, and yet he seemed to follow his own principles of right and wrong. Principles that weren't actually all that far off from his own.

It helped that he was easy on the eyes, too.

When Ai made the cure, an untested beta boasting astounding results, Shinichi took his first chance and Conan became the famous high school detective once again. At first, KID hadn't even crossed his thoughts; he was a bit preoccupied with trying to remember how to be himself, after all.

But then one day he turned on the TV and saw the news reporting on a Kaito KID heist, and he found himself with a surprisingly intense longing to attend. It was the first and only thing he'd seen since he had changed back that had reminded him of… himself.


Kaito pulled the collar of his shirt away, revealing the intimate expanse of skin at the boy's neck to nip and mark as he saw fit. And oh, how he would mark him. He licked his way down the boy's ear, enjoying how Shinichi shivered against him, before he latched onto the curve of his neck.

"You vampire," the boy gasped out. If he was trying to reprimand him, it really wasn't working.

Kaito did not respond, busy with other endeavors. When he was satisfied, he pulled back to catch the detective's lips with his own. He didn't stop, relentlessly marking the younger boy with his tongue, hands pushing the flimsy material of shirt up until the smooth midriff was exposed to the cold air. Shinichi arched into his wandering hands, getting turned on at the idea of the thief pinning him to the wall like this, wedging a knee between his legs and trapping him with no means of escape. It should not be that hot, but it was (it always was).

Shinichi closed his eyes, allowing himself to get lost in the thief's incredibly capable hands. He startled back into reality though, when he heard the distant sounds of voices.

"Hey," he whispered. KID didn't make any indication that he heard him, taking his time to suck what was going to be an outrageous hickey at the indent of his collarbone. "KID."


"Do you hear that?" He listened closer; the slight pitter-patter of footsteps in the distance were quiet but clearly audible. Were they getting closer? It was possible. Or they could just be following the merry goose chase KID had left for them.

He was, truthfully, starting to get concerned when the thief didn't stop, eyes darting to the smudges of buildings, bright lights like splotches of watercolor. He could hear the police… somewhere… but they seemed far off. He supposed that KID knew what he was doing, and wouldn't unnecessarily endanger both of them to the police, or, god forbid, the media.

The smaller boy's breath hitched in his throat as hands found the bared skin of his stomach, warm fingers against the cold skin—"Nnn…Kaito—don't…"—damn, was his stomach always so sensitive? He pushed a bit against the stronger arms, wriggling on the wall, but to no avail.

His stomach was cold, but the searing heat from the thief's fingertips made him arch his back and exhale audibly.

"Hmmm?" The thief murmured against the skin of his neck, kissing trails from the taut lines of his neck to the shoulder, stretching out the collar of his t-shirt with his unyielding kisses.

"Are you sure you want me to stop?"

Shinichi bit back a retort to the rhetorical question; it hardly mattered anyway, because a moment later two full hands pressed against his stomach and his brain melted slowly.

The thief pulled away eventually, smirking vindictively when he caught sight of the other boy's expression. He looked as if, well, as if he'd been thrown against the wall and ravished. It was a delightful look on the boy—not that Shinichi needed to be any sexier. His eyes were half-closed, cheeks flushed a most lovely color, and that alluring mouth panted softly for air; it made the thief want to fuck him senseless. Maybe not right here, but definitely right now.

"Well?" He deliberately paused, whispering into the detective's ear. "Is that a yes or a no?"

"W—What?" Meanwhile, Shinichi had completely forgotten the subject at hand.

He was having a lot of trouble thinking about anything but the hard, warm body pressed against him. He remembered having reservations about having sex with the thief again, but he'd lost track of whatever reservations he'd had in the face of all this pleasure. It was sort of obnoxious, how KID always managed to barrel through his apprehension and make the whole affair into something so pleasurable Shinichi forgot what he was worried about.

Shinichi was about to pull away (he wasn't quite sure, where, exactly, he'd pull away to, but it was his intention nonetheless) when KID leaned in to lick against the skin of his taut stomach, and he immediately responded, much to his chagrin.

It tore a breathless gasp out of him, and once again derailed all his thoughts. Hell, the thief wasn't even touching him there, and he was already this hard and so incredibly turned on. His stomach had never been particularly sensitive—not like his ears, or his neck, or the inside of his thighs (or a lot places, really)—and from the victorious laugh he'd gotten out of the thief, he had a sinking suspicion that KID was going to exploit this new weakness.

The thief grinned at him, and Shinichi immediately tried to stop him, but the criminal had already dropped to suck at the sensitive skin just above his hip, and his words ended up being unintelligible mewling. This was most unfair, the detective thought, greatly annoyed. Why did he have to be so sensitive, everywhere? Normal people weren't like this.

Kaito was enjoying himself, ruthlessly licking at the sensitive skin as Shinichi tried in vain to wrestle free from his uncompromising grip. He would never get enough of this. He loved how it never took very much for the boy to start panting beneath him, how every single part of him was so responsive.

"I haven't even touched you yet." He noted, looking up at him with a sparkle in his eyes. He thumbed the button of Shinichi's jeans. "But look how hard you are for me already…"

"Shut up." He scowled, going for commanding and missing by a mile, flushed in the face and completely out of breath. He never reacted to anyone like this—no one got to him the way the thief did, and that was half the reason he let the thief do this to him in the first place. It was always too much and not enough all at once; it always made him come back for more.

Kaito paused, something in the detective's tone stopping him. He turned his gaze back up to Shinichi, scrutinizing him closely. Sure, he was clearly aroused and clearly into it, but he seemed… off. His game wasn't where it usually was—he wasn't bitchily commanding Kaito to get on with it, and hurry the fuck up and make it good—

"You're sick." A statement, not a question.

Shinichi stiffened.

"No—it's just—

"What's the point in lying to me, meitantei-kun?" He sighed insufferably, getting back to his feet, and, swiftly, before the detective could bat him away, he laid a hand on his forehead. Burning up.

When the detective said nothing, only biting his lip and looking away, the thief pulled him back a bit to study the tired eyes that struggled to focus on anything. He frowned. Definitely sick. Why'd the detective come out to meet him, when he obviously should be resting? Maybe he thought it justice. Maybe he wanted to catch him. Or maybe, and Kaito felt a pleasant tingle at the thought, maybe the detective had wanted to see him—wanted this.

And Kaito wanted it too.

But more importantly, he wanted the detective healthy.

"Come on." The thief held out his hand, and watched the inner turmoil reflected in his eyes as Shinichi debated taking his hand.

Footsteps were clear from the open door to the skyscraper's roof, and at this point Shinichi hardly had a choice (even if he did, he'd have chosen the same) and he grasped the outstretched hand, only to be pulled flush against the thief and covered in his cape.

"Kaito KID!" Yelled one of the officers. "Hands in the air! You're under arrest!"

As usual, the international thief only waved them off, disappearing into smoke.

Shinichi hardly felt them moving, but he smiled slightly when he realized that they had successfully landed onto the balcony of a hotel five buildings down from the one he had met the thief at, which was ten blocks away from the scene of the crime. It was far away to overlook, close enough to be of use.

He opened his eyes, to find the hotel room's lights were off, and the room pitched in darkness.

Kaito seemed to have no problem maneuvering around objects, hand holding his as he directed him through the obstacles.

They found what they were looking for, and the two toppled into the shallow ocean of silk.

Shinichi had fully expected the waistline of his jeans to be pulled down unabatedly, an implacable mouth against his, and nimble fingers exploring and worshipping every inch of his body; he'd expected to be sprawled out luxuriously on the sheets—a welcomed change from the cold cement of rooftops—gasping for breath as the thief had his wicked way with him. KID incessant and unforgiving, pressing fingers to his waiting mouth as he pulled his own pants down, and pushing Shinichi's shirt over his head, hands tied above him in the sleeves, spread lush and embarrassingly for the thief's wandering eyes. KID definitely had a thing for tying him up. Maybe one of these days he'd actually get around to bringing a pair of handcuffs.

The hat would be discarded somewhere, along with the jacket and whatever else the magician kept hidden. The darkness would hide his face, but not his dark, alluring voice, whispering in his ear all the naughty things which arched Shinichi's spine and made him writhe in flushed embarrassment. And the thief would waste no time spreading him open, wet fingers pressing into him as the other man gazed down at all the expanse of skin, like he wanted to devour Shinichi whole—before eventually taking what he wanted.

Except, none of that happened.

Instead there were soft but unrelenting kisses and warm, gentle hands running down his side. A warm mouth pressed into his hair, an even warmer body in perfect reach for snuggling.

They'd never actually done this before, and Shinichi would be alarmed if he wasn't so tired and out of it. All he could think at the moment was that it… felt nice. He felt comfortable—he felt safe, which was ridiculous. Why exactly did he think he was safe in the arms of an infamous criminal? But logical and rational thought had left him, and all he could think about was Kaito was pressed against him, kissing his forehead and looking like he meant to protect him from the rest of the world.

"Are you okay, Shinichi?" The thief asked quietly, surprising the detective. Kaito rarely used his name.

Shinichi swallowed thickly, unsure, or perhaps just unwilling to respond.

"I think I'm scared." He'd confessed into the almost silence, so loud it seemed to drown out his own words. The announcement surprised even him.

"Of what?" Came the whispered rebuke, hot breath fanning out against his hair.

"I don't… " I don't want to die. I don't want to change back. I don't want to leave. I don't want this to end. (I don't want you to leave me) "Mmmm…." It all came out as, while he drifted further away from the boy beside him, and further into the inviting embrace of sleep. Kaito simply watched him drift off, rubbing an absent hand up and down the detective's side.

Kaito smiled involuntarily at the sight. The detective curled up against him as if to leach from his warmth, mouth parted slightly as his breath evened out, eyelashes fluttering slightly with dreams.

Shinichi was just too cute.

It was nice—holding Shinichi as he slept wasn't exactly what he wanted to be doing right now, and certainly wasn't what he had expected either. But it was… satisfying nonetheless.

Of course, what Kaito really wanted to do at this point was a little different than rubbing the boy's hair soothingly, mumbling incoherent words to softly lull him to sleep. But he resisted himself. The detective—his detective was sick. No matter if he tried to hide it, the answer was as plain as day.

This worried him.

He must have been suffering pretty badly for the tired look in his eyes to reach Kaito's attention. The boy was terribly good at keeping himself blocked off, even when Kaito had him opened up beneath him.

The moonlight flickered above them, milky way swirling like sprinkled dust in the sky. The room was blanketed in darkness, but Kaito could see clearly. He really ought to get going soon. The mastermind criminal stopped his mindless petting and pulled himself off of the bed; Shinichi made a small noise at the loss, making the thief chuckle. So cute.

Shinichi was always cute, even when he vehemently denied it.

Typically it was the kind of cute that made Kaito want bend him over whatever debatably sanitary surface he could find.

Now, it was just a soft, almost affectionate look he held for the detective—

And that scared him.

He wasn't supposed to get attached to him.


Shinichi awoke very slowly, blinking into the watery light. He sat up slowly, pawing sleepily at his eyes. The first thing he noticed were the voluminous sleeves drowning his arms, and the collar falling off his shoulder. He looked down drowsily; definitely not his shirt. Where were his actual clothes? He thought, exasperated. Still it wasn't as if he was surprised or anything, it seemed perfectly like the thief to take off all of Shinichi's clothes just to dress him in his own.

He would never admit it to anyone, but in the silence of the room it was all too easy to bring the fabric up to his nose, closing his eyes and remember the thief from the night before. He stayed there for a stupidly long time, smiling softly as he sat in the other man's shirt, breathing his scent in. Then he chided himself for being ridiculous, and got out of the bed.

He looked down at himself—maybe his friends were on to something; he was practically swimming in this shirt, and KID wasn't that much bigger than him.

He really hadn't thought he'd gotten so thin. Probably at some point between when he was stuck as a child and when he started throwing up everything he tried to eat. Yeah, not the healthiest of lifestyles, now that he thought about it.

He looked around the room, feeling… lost.

Last night had been—strange, to say the least.

He was far too disoriented during it to fully understand just how strange it was, but in the unforgiving light of morning it was enough to give him pause. They definitely hadn't had sex. That was… concerning in and of itself. That was pretty much what they did; they had late night scandalous rendezvous under the moonlight. It was kind of romantic, but mostly just really hot. The both of them were rather insatiable in that regard, always tearing at each other's clothes the moment they were alone.

A check to the alarm clock on the bedside table revealed the time to be the late afternoon. He'd missed school. But the rest had certainly cured him of whatever ailed him…

…or so he thought.

His stomach churned angrily, and he immediately darted out of the room to dry heave into the toilet (he hadn't ate anything since lunch, so predictably, there was nothing in his stomach to throw up). His stomach stopped rioting against him in the long run, and he stood up to see his reflection in the mirror. Even though he spent the last twenty minutes kneeling over his new best friend made of porcelain, he looked relatively refreshed, and the brightness of his eyes were glowing back at him in the mirror. The bathroom was a perfection of marble, white ceramic and flowery soap, and he took the ample opportunity to clean himself up from all the dirt from last night.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so well. He palmed his face, flushing in embarrassment. Great. So apparently the key to a good night's rest was cuddling up with a criminal and falling asleep in his arms.

All the same this was a welcomed change. He was almost a bit disappointed they hadn't done anything; the enormous bed looked so inviting and comfortable and warm… and a serious upgrade from the surfaces they normally found themselves on.

Something shimmered brightly in the sunlight, and he turned to see a piece of burning sun on the desk. No, not a sun—a diamond. And a note.

I didn't want to wake you; you look too cute sleeping!

He flushed at that.

You really shouldn't overwork yourself so much, Meitantei-kun. While the things you want me to do to you in your dreams are kind of kinky, I'd rather do them in real life, you know? You're very vocal in your sleep!

(At the bottom, he inserted a one-eyed smiley face, the other eye a circle which seemed to represented the monocle, instead of the typical heart and comical interpretation of himself)

Shinichi slammed the paper down and turned red. He wondered if he actually talked in his sleep or KID was just messing with his him. He supposed he'd never really know (nor did he want to).


Kaito yawned his way through his last class of the day, sandwiched between Saguru and Aoko, looking and feeling the strains of last night.

It had been a successful heist. The jewel had been taken, tested, and put back.

The detective had come, but Kaito found him weary and near asleep on his feet, and figured that he should at least give the detective some much needed rest—no one else seemed to want to do so. Everyone was always pulling Shinichi in a thousand different directions, and Kaito found himself no different. It was the least he could do to let the boy get a moment of rest.

Even if it cut into their already short time together under the moonlight, there was something stirring in the young thief at the very thought of Shinichi ill. If he could, he'd whisk the boy away to some hidden retreat until the tired edges of his eyes returned back into the sharp gaze that he remembered on the first day he met him.

"You figured out my message then, Tantei-kun?" He drawled playfully, leaning forward over the railing, eyes fixated on the bright lights and sirens coming from three blocks away.

A figure stepped out of the shadows. He expected a short boy with a bowtie and glasses—the face he'd come to, dare he say, love?—and that sly smirk that meant the little minx had figured out his entire plan already. He had been anticipating it, actually. He wanted to see that sight more than anything.

Instead, a boy his age walked out of the shadows, hands in his pockets, mouth in that cynical smile, eyes glowing in the night like the jewel in his pocket—breathtaking. He turned around fully to get a better look.

Familiar, somehow…

"And so this is where you'll escape from…" The detective's eyes lit up with challenge, walking closer.

They were around the same height. He had a couple inches on the smaller boy. There was an elegance that immediately drew him to the detective, a grace and a mind that reminded him of another detective, much smaller in stature.

"I don't think we've met before… "He trailed off pointedly, but politely.

The other boy tilted his head. "Kudo Shinichi."

Ah, now that might explain the odd sense of familiarity. Everyone knew of Shinichi Kudo—who didn't? The famous teenage detective that everyone from the city police to Interpol wanted to get a piece of. He was supposedly one of the greatest analytical minds of their generation. He was already a legend, and he was still a teenager.

Kaito tilted his head appraisingly.

And his photos certainly didn't do him any justice. It wasn't as if he looked bad on TV, or anything, but there was something larger than life to his presence in the flesh. The news had certainly never remarked on the striking glow of his eyes, the way his lips curled into a smirk that was almost sinful, the way the wind ruffled against his hair. And despite being somewhat intimidating, he was also a lot smaller than Kaito expected.

But he certainly lived up to his reputation in other ways.

Clearly his intelligence had not been an exaggeration. No one else but Conan had ever managed to figure out his plans.

"Ah, well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Kudo Shinichi." He greeted, and despite the amicable smile on his face he was feeling anything but friendly.

Shinichi smirked knowingly, as he casually leaned against the side of the wall, shoving his hands in his pockets. "You don't have to look so concerned," he commented idly, "I'm not going to turn you in."

Kaito blinked, a little surprised the detective could see right through him so easily.

Clearly they hadn't exaggerated about his perceptiveness, either.

It should have concerned him; the last thing he should want is someone so observant watching his every move—but instead he felt his traitorous heart quicken in excitement. It had been a long time since he'd been challenged.

No one else but Conan had ever managed to unravel him so quickly and so effectively.

Kaito leaned back. "What are you here for, then?" He challenged.

Shinichi's gaze sharpened into something both severe and yet intoxicatingly alluring.

He tilted his head, smiling darkly. Kaito felt his throat dry; he'd never seen something so dangerously captivating. He was like a precious jewel, forever tempting him with beauty, danger, and challenge.

"Well, I'd like that stupid gem, for starters." He drawled holding out his hand.

Kaito smirked. "You think I'll just hand it over?"

"It's not like you want it," Shinichi pointed out, surprising Kaito again. His intuition was… astounding. How did he know that?

"And you didn't plan for the police to come here, either." He continued, surprising Kaito further. "So I figured I may as well go and return it to them, and save them the trouble of spending the rest of the night hunting around for where you hid it."

Kaito just simply stared at him.

"Or a couple nights, knowing the police." Shinichi added after a thoughtful moment. "Who knows. They might not even find it until next month."

Kaito didn't say anything in response; Shinichi just flashed him another cruelly arousing smile.

"Fair point." He finally shrugged, tossing the boy the gem. "Wouldn't want to waste tax payer on some useless jewel hunt."

Shinichi still didn't look surprised. Kaito's interest piqued. So he had expected Kaito to hand it over?

A heist hadn't felt this thrilling since Conan.

Shinichi just saluted. "Until next time then, Kaito KID." He said in farewell, smirking.

No, that wasn't true.

This was even more thrilling, because Conan had never made his heart flip over in his chest with just a mere smile. Didn't make his blood rush with a knowing glance and a smirk.

Kaito grinned broadly.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

He had then proceeded to scheduled another heist the following week after meeting the acclaimed detective. Even though it wouldn't be the full moon, he wanted to lure the detective out once more. He sent out the wild invitations, this time for the detective, not for the Organization.

And when they met again under the stars, he had thought he'd be the one to make the first move.

But instead, the usually composed and standoffish detective dawned an almost coy look, a shy smile on his face as leaned upwards so his lips could touch his.

And well, it only got better from there.

Aoko noticed the dreamy, lovesick look on Kaito's face with confusion. "Kaito-kun?" She called loudly, waving a hand to his face. "What are you thinking about? I've called your name like five times."

"Err—!" The young magician's face flushed as he scrambled hastily for an excuse. He couldn't think of anything off the top of his head, his thoughts stuck on the detective. "Well, I, um—

"He's thinking of his love." Akako answered for him with a waggle of her brows.

"What?!" Kaito near stood up at the accusation, sputtering. "Of course not!"

Akako only smirked at him over her shoulder—goddamn her psychic abilities—while Aoko watched him curiously.

"Kaito-kun…." She murmured, blinking.

Kaito didn't want to know what was going through her head.

Her look suddenly turned scathing, however. "You didn't go to out with me yesterday because you said you were studying!" She yelled at him, while pointing to Saguru. "But Hakuba-kun was having dinner with Akako-chan!"

Kaito paled, and immediately looked to Hakuba, who wore a sheepish smile. "Traitor." He hissed under his breath, before turning to Aoko with his hands raised in universal surrender.

"Err—it's not what you think!"

"He was watching the Kaito KID heist." Akako confirmed with a wink. "Right, Kaito-kun?"

The magician nodded immediately. "Right! Sorry, Aoko-chan…" He put on his best face. "But I really want to catch this guy. He's so cool, but no one's a better magician than me!"

Aoko harrumphed, but she seemed to understand. "I still don't really understand why you're so bent on catching him." She sighed. "My father and the police are already working on it. They'll catch him soon!"

Kaito manfully refrained from pointing out their abysmal track record on that.

edited 1/2017 because I'm watching a lot of Kaito KID and Detective Conan for reasons unknown