Title: The Gold on His Finger.
Author: SYNdicate 930.
Summary: AU. On his finger he wore a plain gold ring. Sitting on his long finger between his pinky and middle, extravagant and glamorous as he, it was a blatant sign of sorts that screamed to me; he belonged to someone, but she was dead. Rating might go up.

Note: IT IS IMPORTANT YOU GO LOOK OVER THE LYRICS TO 'PLAIN GOLD RING'. The versions I know of are from Nina Simone and Kimbra—Either are fine, and I suggest you read the lyrics. Also, I've read different things about police officer hours online, so, if something seems off, I'm gomen "OTL. I apologize for mistakes (seeing as past-tense and first person aren't my forte) But, either way, please tell me what you think?

Chapter 1: And away I go.

I couldn't breathe, wrapped up in the blistering heat of yet another summer. My uniform clung to my skin, and I looked like a sweaty mess in all black. Sometimes I would wonder who was the wise-guy who decided to make our uniforms black, but then I would realize police officers wouldn't look at all intimidating in something colored and bright.

Black. Darkness, often perceived as sort of force capable of inflicting pain and misery wherever it so wishes, an entity not to be messed with, incapable of being stopped or repressed. I guessed the color black made us look tougher, and that's probably what they wanted for us. But, judging by the way I've frightened people with my height, muscles, and bored scowl, I thought I was already doing a good job at looking the part.

Strolling down the sidewalk with two cold cans of Coke, I pressed them against my burning face and neck and reached for the door of my cop car. Technically, it wasn't mine—it was headquarter's, but I preferred to call it my own. I almost loved it more than my own car, really. The window of the backseat where we kept people we would bring down to the station was cracked, a long white scar from the guy we were sent to bring in, who decided to try and break out by kicking at the window like a mad man. I would have to remember and get it fixed before the next crazy guy breaks it down completely. Like most men, my car was my baby, and just seeing the little blemish on the window made my eye twitch.

The car door was locked. I tapped against the window when I realized my keys were inside to keep the interior cool. I watched as Kagami jolted awake, and unlock my side of the car. Before stepping in, I tossed him his drink, watching him fumble around foolishly in an exhausted haze while I hopped in, icy wind greeting me with opened arms, the air conditioning cranked up as high as it would go just the way I liked it. A common misconception growing up was that I was a summer-boy, in love with the blazing sun and humid temperatures, my dark skin some sort of false indication, while I stood the opposite. I hated summer. I adored winter and the feel of snow crunching under my feet and snow against my warm fingers, melting instantaneously, and refreshing feeling after stepping out from my heated apartment or headquarters into the chilling bite of December, cold breezes and snowflakes brushing against my face. Sun-kissed skin? Mine was sun-ravished, but that was irrelevant.

"Oi, no sleeping." I closed the door and slouched into my seat, flicking the sides of my can before opening it. I had learned it apparently gets rid of fizz. Science was never my forte, so I didn't understand the logic behind it, but it always seemed to work for me, and I never risked it. Especially in the cop car.

Kagami yawned and rubbed at his eyes, deep, dark bags indicating a lack of sleep. He'd been growing more and more tired as of recently, and I had no idea why. The man did not have any sort of worries or health problems that kept him up at night, but it appeared that he'd been getting less sleep with each passing day. "Stuff's been happening with Kuroko." He said as he rolled his neck from shoulder to shoulder.

I took a sip of my Coke and watched a dark hickey come into view where his pulse was. I snorted. "I can see. I never thought you'd ever take it from him, though."

Kagami's cheeks were left aflame, reddened with a blush as crimson as his hair and irises. He stopped his stretching to fix me with furrowed brows, and an embarrassed, loud cry, "Hey, it's not like that at all!"

"I'm not judging you…" I snorted. "Too much."

Kagami yelled at me a little more, but, surprisingly enough, it turned into white noise in the background as I pulled out my cellphone. Normally, we aren't allowed things such as mobiles and iPods on duty, but, when you're as sneaky as Kagami and I, you find ways of not getting caught. There was an unread text on my old-fashioned flip-phone, and I hurriedly clicked the 'read' option. It was from Kise.

Heeey wanna catch a movie later?

I took another sip as I answered back.

Sure, should we meet there or do you want me to pick you up

Before I even had the chance to put my phone down, I was already bombarded with an answer to my text. Kise was the type to answer as quickly as possible; he said that he didn't like leaving people hanging, especially when it came to me. I was impatient, and anybody who knew me well enough would know that I did not like waiting.

Come over I still have to change, some little boy spilled juice on my shirt

Okay, see you then.

"Hey, are you listening to me." Kagami asked.

"No."

-—-—-—

Kise Ryouta.

He was the type of person who loved to smother the people he cared about with child-like affection and possessed such a youthful glow in the way he would smile from ear to ear when he was happy, pout petulantly like a boy denied his favorite toy when he didn't get what he want or when Tetsu would ignore him, and contagious laugh that would rip from between his pink lips, that I'd forget he was older than me. To my blatant and expected surprise, Kise was born in June of 1988, while I was born a few years after in the summer of 1992. I never took him to be more than a couple months older when we first me. If anything, with that energy and childish sort of innocence and immaturity and face, I had subtracted a few years off his actual age, assuming I was his senior by the same amount of time he was mine. Every time we were placed together, people would always think I was older than him. Whether that was in a good way or in a bad way, I was never sure, really.

I always worked day shifts from 5:00 AM to 2:00 PM, which always gave me two hours to do whatever before seeing Kise. Pacing around my modestly furnished apartment, I went about my after-work ritual of cooking myself a little something to eat, listen to the TV that would provide me with some sort of filter to help ease away the eerie silence and low humming of my empty home, all the while trying to keep myself cool by cranking up the air conditioning, and stripping out of my thick work clothes into something much more comfortable.

The scent of fried rice and chicken filled my apartment and I ate by myself in the living room in front of the TV. As usual, nothing interesting was on to watch—not even on the kid's channels, and that was rather depressing. Kiddie television shows were always my last resort when nothing else was on. Typically, most people were still stuck at work or school, making this prime time for re-runs and crappy shows, barely on air if it weren't for the few suckers who insist on watching. None of it was very interesting or the least be entertaining, sappy dramas with vapid endings I could already predict with characters as deep as a tear drop, and mediocre actors and actresses. Though, the boobs on the lady on channel 15 were pretty nice.

I usually turned to the sports channel for something amusing, but there was nothing on but a baseball game. I was always a basketball sort of guy, and this game held little to absolutely none of my attention. When I was done eating, I washed my dishes and dumped the leftover rice and chicken I didn't get to in a small container to eat later before bed. Feeling satisfied and full I hopped onto my beaten in couch and napped for an hour before getting ready to pick Kise up from work. This was typically how I spent my free time without him; eating and loafing around. Don't let my body fool you. Being lazy was sort of my thing when I wasn't out chasing people down or beating the shit out of someone, but that rarely ever happened. The last person I had gotten into a fight with was Kagami, and that was when we got bored in the cop car and decided to play shot for shot until we both called it quits. I fell asleep with Kise on my mind.

Kise and I saw each other every day. If not, he would make us video chat online because I didn't own a shiny, incredibly breakable iPhone like him. Personally, I liked my old flip phone. For one thing, it was durable, which matched well with the fact that I was prone to breaking, throwing, and smashing things whenever I was mad, and it was impossibly simple, like me. Not to mention I never had to pay for stupid things like data and apps like Kise did. As long as it worked, I was okay with it.

After waking up to the loud, shrill ring of my cellphone, I slipped into what the guys at headquarters, Kagami, and I like to call 'civilian clothes' and disabled my alarm on my cellphone before it went off a second time. It was accurate and we were sure that was what other cops called dressing up normally, but we liked the way it rolled off the tongue as if we were special—Like spies incognito in those stupid action movies Kise and I were so fond of. Come to think of it, that was probably what he had planned for us to watch. Either that or some sap comedy girls usually took their boyfriends to watch with them, who would roll their eyes and groan because those storylines tended to be vague and lacked any sort of legitimate plot or elements used to create a worthwhile film.

I was a huge critic when it came to movies and TV, but was entertained with watching idols on music channels. Either way, cheesy romance movies weren't for me, but I would bear with it, as always, for Kise. He should be thankful.

The drive to the elementary Kise taught at with Kuroko was quiet and filled with lots of yawning and my favorite idols singing on my beat up radio, my car having been through a lot through the past two or so years I've had it for, nostalgia lining their flowing words softly as older songs from the time I'd met Kise came on one at a time. I didn't lose myself in my thoughts very often, only ever saving moments like that for when I was alone like on drives like this. Drumming my fingers against the steering wheel counting off-beats with one hand, my other hand counting right on the beat, I hummed softly and mouthed a few lines to myself. Songs like these always made me think back to when we met.

I first saw Kise the day Tetsu dragged me to work with him. Tetsu was doing some sort lesson on various kinds of jobs to his class of first graders, and asked me to do a small presentation about being a cop. I was never good with kids, Tetsu and Satsuki could always hold me to that. Just being within 10 feet of a baby would set them off into a raucous sobbing and me into insanity. I never did like the sound of babies (or children in general) crying.

Because I felt the need to bring along some back up, I brought Kagami with me. At the time, Kagami was a mere 18 year old boy, who'd thrown away his brains and history of accelerated classes, his intellect going as far as to help him graduate early and skip two or three grades (I couldn't remember), just to become an officer. He was an idiot at giving up the chance to do bigger things in life than be an officer, and I always told him. Sometimes he would shrug it off with a 'I'd rather do this', but that stopped me from reminding him in the future.

I later understood the reason Kagami's face was so red wasn't because of the weather or the fact that he would have to be talking in front of children and their parents, the boy having some sort of fear of speaking in front of others, but as a result of Tetsu. Sometimes I liked to think that I was the reason they ended up together because, if it weren't for me bringing the redhead along or introducing them, they probably would have never found each other or that happiness they had created together as a result of me.

Pulling up to the school, I slowed down considerably so as to not cause any sort of accidents. One could never be too careful in elementary areas, where kids roamed the streets so freely and sometimes without any supervision; a lawsuit waiting to happen, really. I was admittedly a horrifyingly reckless driver, so I could never pay too much attention to the road. Saying goodbye to who I assume are his students and their parents by the front doors, I came to a slow stop and called out to him, my window rolled down as a warm breeze swept up against my cheeks, watching him strut his ways over to the car in a confident manner, nodding and waving at the students and teachers littered between the both of us as he drew nearer.

He ran around the front of my car into the passenger seat with a smile as I turned down the music. As routine, Kise greeted me with an incredulously charming smile, and light-hearted "Aominecchi!" I had grown fondly accustomed to, as well as the manner in which he flipped his honey colored hair, pressed his palm to his mouth as he yawned, rolled his head from shoulder to shoulder restlessly, or to relax his tense muscles, the highs and lows to his voice when he spoke; from the man's head to his toes were complete perfection to which I'd been unbelievably able to deny myself the massive urge to jump and then ravish fully. I wanted all of him, but—as long as he wore that stupid little thing—there was no way of making him mine. It flashed in the corner of my eyes as he brought down the visor mirror to check his already in-place hair.

"I still need to change my shirt. Can we stop by my place?" My eyes fell to the red stain on his white shirt. I had almost forgotten.

I snorted and we began to drive away from the school. "Oh? Is it your time of the month? Eh, little Kise-chan's growing up so fast."

He face contorted into one of slight embarrassment. "What—one of my students spilled juice on me, and I'm a guy!"

"I thought you were supposed to bleed down there—"

"Aominecchi!"

"Yeah, yeah." I lifted a finger to point. "Oi, you forgot your seatbelt." I know, even I was capable of safety precautions.

"Anyway, do you want to go see a movie right away, or does Aominecchi want to eat after I'm done changing?" He asked, tugging on his seat belt and securing it in the little rectangular slot beside his thigh and then turning up the visor mirror to look outside through the windshield.

I paused to think.

"I'm craving something sweet, so can we stop by somewhere to eat?" He looked to me pleadingly. "Please?"

Even though I had just eaten just a while ago, the thought of food was never unappealing. There were various restaurants and cafés in the area between his place and the movie theatre, and I was suddenly craving some coffee. "Sure, where were you thinking?"

"Let's go see Murasakibaracchi!" Kise cheered. "He makes the best pastries!"

As Kise rambled off about the cute little boys and girls in his class and the stuff they did in class today, I turned a few corners and came to a slow stop as I parked in front of his apartment complex just 12 minutes away. We walked up to the second floor through the front entrance, and then straight down the hall towards his familiar white door, just a few feet away from the other exit that lead to the parking lot.

Kise's apartment was one of those modern ones you would always see in catalogs or on TV, where everything was shiny and metallic looking. I was blinded by it the first time I came over. It was hands-down more spacious than mine.

While Kise walked off into his bedroom, I found myself still slipping off my shoes and then lying on my back on his couch in the living room. It was pretty and expensive looking, but it was nowhere near as comfy as I initially thought it was. I had found out in the most innocent (and boring) way that it was just like his bed; great to look at, but not as great to sleep on. But I didn't get up, already too comfortably positioned on my back as I reached for the remote.

I settled for the news, dropping the black remote beside my hip on the couch. In the background, I could vaguely hear the sounds of drawers being opened and his closet door sliding as he rummaged around for something to change into.

"I'll be out in a minute." He lied. Kise always said that, just like Momoi. A minute always equaled five minutes, but I didn't mind. It wasn't like I had anywhere important to go. The scent of Kise's unique cologne lingered through my sense as I hugged a pillow to my chest lazily.

Kise always offered to let me move in with him because he didn't like living in a place so big and empty by himself. I was more than ready to pack up my things and live with him the moment he asked, but I knew for a fact I wouldn't have been able to resist the temptation of crawling into bed and making him mine.

The news anchor's voice became background noise as I lost myself in mindless imagination. Staring up at the high ceiling, I occupied myself with the ever-growing and never-ending fantasy of waking up to him beside me on a weekend. He would wear nothing but one of my buttoned shirts that would hang of his shoulders, his pale skin bare and unhidden beneath my lethargic gaze with dark hickies around his neck and tempting collar bones, hair messy and dishevelled from a night of animalistic lust; his sweet body gliding under our sheets sneakily from his side to mine to kiss me, and there I would force his legs apart, his chest arching into mine as I fuck him so senselessly, he'd be bedridden, and there we would stay for the rest of the day, wrapped up in each other's heat, breathing each other's air.

"Okay, I'm done. What are you watching?" His voice broke me out of my daydreaming. "The news? Really? How boring."

"It is boring, but I was too lazy to go find anything better." I lied. I sat up to see him walk over in a completely different outfit, in his ever-fashionable clothes. His own style suited him more than the stupid formal stuff the school made him wear. I gave him a once over before he turned away to head for the door to put his sneakers on while I frowned.

No matter what he wore, he always had that dumb thing on. It pissed me off and frustrated me at the same time.

"Aominecchi, hurry up!" He said as he finished slipping on his shoes.

I turned off his wide flat screen and strolled over to him. "Yeah, yeah, quit your whining, I'm coming.'"

On his finger he wore a plain gold ring. Sitting on his long finger between his pinky and middle, extravagant and glamorous as he, it was a blatant sign of sorts that screamed to me; he belonged to someone, but she was dead.