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Their first meeting was like something out of a fairy tale.
Ranpo was the knight in shining armor, loved and adored by everyone he came across, and Poe was just another obstacle to overcome on the way to rescue the princess. Poe wasn’t even on the level of the main antagonist yet. He was lowly thief, destined to be defeated in a second, and defeated in a second he was.
Poe was just another villain, another speck of dust to obliterate for Ranpo to come out on top. Poe hated him. Poe resented him.
And yet now his dreams were filled with coldly amused emerald and the soft fabric of a brown cloak and flashes of light reflecting off a pair of glasses.
Poe despised those glimpses of the past, those reminds of his blatant, frustrating inadequacy. He hated the self-assured voice coming from someone whose head was held high above the rest. He sought to destroy it, to shatter the shards of the past like he’d been shattered once before.
And so it went for six long years.
He got his answers.
He got his closure.
But the dreams didn't stop. If anything, they propagated, each dream filled with once-cold green eyes that now hid glimpses of warmth, with a soft brown cloak wrapped around his shoulders, with flashes of light reflecting off glasses as they were gently taken off, until Poe couldn't close his eyes without seeing him.
It was strange, to say the least. He was supposed to hate Ranpo. And yet, somehow, he'd managed to endear himself to Poe, enough that Poe didn't seem to mind whenever Ranpo waltzed into his life as if he owned it.
Like now.
"Do you have any snacks?" Ranpo asked as he sauntered into the house with a key that Poe had never given him. Poe sighed and shook his head fondly. Fondly, hm? Poe wasn’t sure when he’d started adding that adjective.
"I mean, um, yes. In the kitchen."
"Okay, then." Ranpo swished past him to traipse into his kitchen. The kitchen, to be quite honest, contained little more than snacks for whenever Ranpo decided to drop by, and a few packs of instant noodles, which was something Ranpo didn’t forget to chide him on.
“Poe-kun,” he half-whined, returning to the living room with an armful of potato chips. “Do you even eat actual meals? Don’t answer that, I know you don’t.”
“I-I could say the same for you,” Poe replied, having had this conversation several times before with several different people, though his face never really flushed this red. “The only thing I ever see you eat is, um, junk food.” Ranpo shrugged, handing him one of the smaller bags of chips to open. “Yes, but I do actually eat full meals when I’m not here,” he replied with a slight smirk as Poe obliged his unspoken request.
“Really? I… don't believe you.” Poe’s words escaped him before he had a chance to think them through, and as he processed what he had said, his face burned an even brighter red. “I-- I mean--!”
Too late.
Ranpo’s smirk had grown even more smug, something which Poe had assumed impossible. “Oh?” Green eyes flashed with unknown amusement, and Poe was violently reminded of how much he hated them sometimes. “And how do you suggest I prove it to you, then?"
Sometimes the best course of action was just to stay put and shut up, so Poe did exactly that, refusing to utter a single word. But, as Ranpo was Ranpo, he’d seemed to have predicted that.
“No words, Poe-kun? I’m quite disappointed,” he said, taking back the bag of chips and flopping onto Poe's living room sofa. “But, I suppose I’ll shoulder the burden of proof by myself.” He picked up another potato chip between his index and middle fingers, then pointed it accusingly at Poe.
“I’ll drop by every once in a while with a full meal to prove that I am, indeed, eating properly.” He popped the chip into his mouth, chewing it with a deliberate slowness. “I’ll bring you food too, so I expect you to eat it with me.”
What.
Ranpo picked up a mystery novel from the stack that sat beside the sofa, read the blurb at the back, wrinkled his nose, put it down in a separate pile, then picked up another book from the stack. He looked quite satisfied with himself.
"Y-you're going to, what?"
Ranpo looked over, then tossed the book on the first book. "I'll come by with food for the both of us. You'd better be here when I arrive."
"I--... why?"
Ranpo rolled his eyes with a pout and a long-suffering sigh. "You're really quite dense, aren't you? I have every intention of coming over with lunch every day if I have to, since you're too useless to flirt with me yourself."
"Wh-what? I don't--" Poe sighed, looking away. His face felt hot enough to spontaneously combust. "... okay."
There was really no arguing with Ranpo, after all.
Poe wondered if he'd dream of this tonight.