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“You will never mention a word of this,” Katou says, strong emphasis layering each word with a heavy look, “to anyone.”
Kambe looks to him blankly, his face never once betraying his mild confusion as he responds coolly, “Is there something of which to tell?”
Katou huffs, rolling his eyes as if the answer should be obvious. Kambe considers their situation. They’re currently in a line, waiting in order to enter a club. A club by the name of The Cockpit, believed to be one of the drug dens of an underground network currently plaguing the Tokyo streets. Other than the strange atmosphere of the night, and the fact that Katou had forced his jacket on Kambe, stealing Kambe’s own suit jacket before proceeding to tie it around his waist by the arms, there was nothing really worth taking note of.
After a moment, Kambe’s lack of reply sends another huff seething forth from his senior’s lungs.
“Never mind. Just… play along.”
Kambe didn’t get a chance to respond this time, as all of a sudden the two of them were standing at the front of the line and Katou threw one arm – along with his body weight – around Kambe’s shoulders.
“Aaah, Daisuke-chan! Hooow many times do I have to tell yooou?” Katou was leaning on him giddily, as if he’d suddenly lost all of his balance. His voice had changed completely, rising immensely in volume and softening considerably in tone. Not to mention the whole ‘Daisuke-chan’ thing. Kambe wondered if his colleague had been possibly replaced in the few seconds between the last few paces before they’d reached the doors to the club.
“Call me senpai! Haru-senpai! I’m older than you, y’knooow?”
Kambe considered having HEUSC run a diagnostic on the man.
Katou shifted, uncomfortably, twisting his body both downwards and outwards in order to look up at Kambe. Play along. Bouncers. His senior mouthed, and Kambe looked up.
Indeed, there was a large pair of men, arms crossed, standing in front of them; cool blue light from the club door’s overhead signs surrounding them like a protective shield.
Suddenly understanding the situation more, Kambe tried relaxing his face more.
“Yes, yes, Haru-senpai,” he said gently, “Now would you please let go of me? You’re getting heavy.”
Katou huffed for the third time so far that night, sliding himself upwards once more into a more upright position but still leaving his arm over Kambe’s shoulders.
“Nup, nup, nooope,” Katou whined, shaking his head over-enthusiastically.
Kambe sighed. What a pain. It honestly would have been quicker to just pay these men off, but Katou had insisted him not to this time, telling him that his money would give them away.
Your Kambe name is too well-known, he’d said.
Kambe ignored him then, and acted as if he’d just noticed their place in the line. He took a step forward towards the two men who had been watching their act for the past few moments.
“May we enter? He won’t shut up otherwise.” The bouncers looked him over. They looked Katou over. They looked to each other, silent discussion in their eyes.
“Are you on the list?” the one to the right asks finally. He is larger than his counterpart, but with small beady eyes and a poorly shaven chin. Kambe mauls over the idea of finding out who he is and sending him some top-class razors after they finish here.
“This is an open bar, is it not?” Kambe answers smoothly, as if their question was supposed to send him into a panic. “Never seen you two before, is all.” The bouncer grumbles, still eyeing Kambe and his partner.
Kambe never flinches. He knows that’s the point of these comments, after all. “New to the area. We wanted to try this place out tonight. It sounded like it would be… a colourful time.”
The bouncer to the left smirks. The one to the right is still not convinced. Of whatever needs convincing.
Katou gets impatient. He looks to the doubtful bouncer.
“Whaaat, let us iiiin already! I wanna drink, and dan- and dance, with my adoooorable Daisuke-chaaan!”
Kambe struggles to hide his amusement. Struggles, but succeeds. He doesn’t really regret agreeing to this assignment now. It was interesting, to see another side of his usually stubborn and easily-frustrated partner. Surprisingly, Katou hadn’t argued this time either.
The larger bouncer looks to his counterpart again. They seem to be struggling to decide something, although Kambe is unsure as to what. Which is strange, considering he usually always knows what people are thinking. What they want. What they need. What they don’t need, or want, but will take anyway.
“Whaaaat?” Katou says again, sounding more defiant this time. Like he’s a child pretending to not have stolen something from the kitchen. “Do you need proooof or suuum-thin’?”
He seems to have a better grasp of the situation than Kambe, and Kambe isn’t sure how he feels about that.
The right-side bouncer seems to like the sound of Katou’s proposal. “Yes, that would be nice. If you please.”
“Aaah geeeeez,” Katou whines, “Fiiiine.”
Katou leans in close to Kambe’s ear. His breath is soft, ticklish on the sensitive skin.
“I’m serious,” he whispers, his usual demeanour returning to him, as easily as flipping a switch, “if you mention this to anyone, or even to me, ever again, I will kill you.”
“Hey!” the left bouncer is the one to speak now, “what are you whispering about there?”
Katou looks to him and smirks evilly, almost looking as if he’s sizing up his next meal.
“Woouldn’t you like to know, you peeeerv.”
Kambe still can’t shake the feeling that he’s a step behind. For the first time ever in his time with Inspector Katou Haru, with anyone, he is a step behind. It’s unsettling. His mind is buzzing, desperately trying to catch up, to get ahead. Was there something he should have paid more attention to in their debriefing? He hadn’t bothered listening to all of it, of course. Why would he? He’s a Kambe. He can just find out whatever he feels he needs to know.
But there wasn’t anything worth noting. Besides the targets, location, operation time and their goal here tonight. Which wasn’t to arrest, not just yet. Surveillance. Undercover surveillance was their aim tonight. There wasn’t even that many smaller details to note. That was the point of this surveillance mission. To find those details.
What was he missing then?
He didn’t have time to figure it out.
Not when Katou cut him off. Snaking his hand behind Kambe’s head, shoving his fingers into his hair, and pulling him forward.
It was fake. Oh so desperately fake. Hurried and rough. Sloppy, and full of embarrassment. Too eager for it to be over for it to be real. But it was warm. And when Katou pulls away, his heat lingers on Kambe’s lips.
Just for a moment.
And to be honest, Kambe didn’t know what he’d have done if it had been real.
Suddenly, like a bad joke finally taking shape in your head, Kambe understands.
Ah, he thinks, it’s a crude joke, but I get it now.
The Cockpit. It’s a gay bar. They were undercover as a couple going to a gay bar.
Kambe mildly realises why Katou didn’t put up much of a fight this time around when the two of them were put on this case. He probably figured that Kambe, unlike Kamei or any of his other colleagues, could keep his mouth shut about something like this.
Finally, the bouncers both seem satisfied. Or at least, it seems they have to, with some of the people in line behind them cheering at the sight.
Katou has a smug look on his face, and he flashes it at both of the large men as Kambe leads the two of them inside, his senior still draped around his shoulders. It isn’t until they reach a spot by the bar, out of sight of the bouncers and anyone else who might have been watching them, that Katou drops the act, letting go of his junior and resuming his usual glare.
He steps an extra step than what is necessary away from Kambe, as if too embarrassed to be anywhere near him. And perhaps he is, Kambe thinks, the flashing blue and red lighting of the club hiding any blush that may have formed in his cheeks.
Neither of them say anything for what seems like a very long moment.
Kambe breaks the silence first.
“I’m sure there were other-“
“Shut it.”
“If you had told me prior-“
“Shush.”
Kambe did as he was asked for once. The two of them let the loud music of the club fill the space between them for a moment longer.
This time Katou broke the silence. “It was the fastest way. I’m sorry if you hated it.”
“I didn’t hate it,” Kambe admitted, mildly surprised that it was the truth. “But I could have just paid-“
“No.” Katou cut him off, predicting what he was going to say.
More music filled silence.
“Don’t you ever. Say anything. To anyone.” Katou finally growled, repeating his seemingly favourite phrase for the night. “In fact, just forget it.”
Kambe let the obnoxiously loud music fill between them purposely this time, wondering if that last part of Katou’s request had meant to be quieter than the rest. Whether it was supposed to have almost been drowned out by the noise. Or whether he was perhaps growing wishful over something he’d never previously thought about before. Something he was probably just imagining anyways.
“Very well. I won’t speak of this.” He said.
He didn’t say anything that suggested he would ‘forget’.
He made no plans to forget.
Kambe would remember this night, he decided.
Katou would too, he also decided. Even if they never ‘spoke’ about it again.