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Lupin woke up to harsh warmth and soft weight. Bright morning sunbeams filtered in through a two-inch gap in the balcony curtains and shined down his face and bare chest. Those brutal little beams had to be heating the hotel room by at least a few degrees. Later he'd have to get up and kick the shitty AC back on. Again.
The comforter and sheets pulled up around his waist felt warm and heavy, though not nearly as warm and heavy as the sleeping detective under them with him. Zenigata's long, thick arm was slung all the way across Lupin's body, rising and falling gently with Lupin's chest, his head cozying up to the crook of Lupin's neck.
Lupin wondered if being touch-starved for so many years was what made Zenigata so clingy in his sleep.
Lupin brought a hand up and out from under Zenigata and moved it to rest in Zenigata's short black hair, using it to pull his sleeping head just a little closer and then idly brushing his fingers through it. Zenigata shifted in response, his arm hugging himself closer against Lupin rather than just laying across, but he didn't fully wake up.
That was fine with Lupin. When Zenigata was fully awake and lucid he seemed to struggle more with this kind of intimacy so Lupin always enjoyed it when he could.
Zenigata was a man who was transparently starved for love and close contact but had difficulty expressing his own needs. Some men had hangups about loving other men, sure, but for Zenigata that wasn't much of a concern and more a finish line to cross after a grueling obstacle course of his own shame and self-loathing, the kind of deep-seated feelings of inadequacy that would have kept Zenigata from admitting to loving anyone for years, from asserting his own feelings for any person, let alone a criminal. It seemed natural, then, as someone with a low opinion of himself, that he'd grown more and more attached to Lupin. He was a man who gave Zenigata a singular purpose, gave him something to be good at, and who routinely bested and humiliated him, to the extent that Lupin, the spectacle, the legend, his target, had eclipsed everything else in his life. And why not subsume feelings of love and desire into dedicated, obsessive hunting? It was the same job expected of him by his family and his history. It was convenient, he was very good at it, and it meant he would never have to admit how he actually felt. He could just ride that edge for years and years rather than pulling back into a normal, balanced life, or rather than fall off the precipice, slip forward into admission and risk a terrified freefall before hitting what he thought would be an unforgiving end.
Or at least Lupin assumed. Lupin was a straight-shooter, open and flamboyant with his desires, so much so that it was a defining personality trait. A trademark. The irregular, labyrinthine mess at Zenigata's core was so different from how Lupin operated that at first trying to understand it, trying to navigate it, was like translating a treasure map with a key in a forgotten language. Nothing at all like his easy, borderline-telepathic close partnership with Jigen. He and Jigen had, in their own way, openly loved each other from the start, all easy laughter and easy intimacy. And not even like chasing Fujiko, who had always been deliberately and expertly enigmatic. Zenigata emotionally edged himself for years not deliberately, but because he was a fucking mess.
Though considering how much Fujiko's treatment of Lupin mirrored his own of Zenigata, maybe he and Zenigata weren't that different. Lupin had just been more open and shameless about it, like with everything else. He never would have wasted the energy to pretend being kicked around by someone unattainable that he was crazy about was something he did for a career, or for honor, or duty, or because his blood cried out to him or whatever the fuck weird, convoluted rationalizations Zenigata had kept clinging to. It was just the bare fact of wanting someone hot and fun and exciting and that person using calculated intermittent reinforcement to keep you interested without ever letting you get too close.
Hell, Lupin had probably learned it from Fujiko before using it deliberately on Zenigata, another tool in his kit to help try to understand what was going on inside his rival. It became his way to start tracing out those lines, piece by piece, teasing and exposing those complicated feelings down to their roots. Sometimes it was easy, like the way every time Lupin faked his death it caused Zenigata to come completely apart, crack open and admit that Lupin had been his raison d'être, the center of his universe. Though rather than phrasing it that way it was usually Zenigata wailing in disjointed grief, screaming out like a big dying animal who thought his life was over. Or those times they worked together and Zenigata happily got drunk and would bear hug Lupin or clap a big hand on his shoulder, either action as much an expression of love as he had been capable of.
Other times, when they would butt heads and draw grave lines in the sand, whether from misunderstandings or from sudden, jagged schisms in their rivalry stemming from their very different ways of thinking and moral values, and get actually, genuinely upset with each other, it was not so easy. It was difficult, though not beyond Lupin's skill, to still find ways to prod and rile Zenigata in those moments over his repressed feelings for Lupin. Zenigata could get heated at the drop of the hat but when Lupin got upset at Zenigata Lupin remained calculating, even in his fury moving like a surgeon with a scalpel and using cruel teasing words and small touches with cold and exacting precision. It was of course very difficult to pull off in the middle of a car chase or a bank robbery or a fight but what an exhilarating win when he could see on Zenigata's open, expressive, helpless face that it had worked. Zenigata was so soft and so blunt and, no matter how upset or hurt he was, never struck out in kind. He never stood a chance.
It still took years of working Zenigata over to ever get a clear, sober, non-graveside-confession admission of him having any feelings for Lupin out of him, though, which was maddening considering Zenigata was all feelings all the time. And also because it was well after they'd already drunkenly fooled around. Multiple times.
At first playing Zenigata had been a fun distraction for Lupin, a way to fluster and upset and manipulate his rival that doubled as a guaranteed win and pick-me-up. Then it had been a way to get off when he was bored. But over time, as they both got older, Lupin realized just how much he really was the center of Zenigata's world, and in his narcissism and greed wanted to be able to actually substantiate and savor it. It became worth the slow, grueling process of getting something from Zenigata that wasn't buried under so many obfuscating layers and hangups, to dig until Lupin could touch the brilliance of that kind of obsessive devotion directly.
He already got it from Jigen but rather than being content with that he, as always, wanted more. And it certainly fed his ego that both an inhuman supercop and the world's fastest gunman were obsessed with him and centered their entire lives around him, though he wasn't sure how to feel about the fact that if he "died" or disappeared it always completely wrecked the both of them, to the extent that they probably wouldn't survive all that long without him. If he let himself linger on that it started to feel like a responsibility he had taken on. Like taking in a stray dog who would starve to death by his side if he ever slipped and hit his head in the shower. It was flattering, of course, and his ego always eventually won out, but it did occasionally nag at him. With Fujiko it was always exciting but in a completely different way. Fujiko loved him, Fujiko hurt him, but she was more like a stray cat. Aloof. Self-sufficient. It bothered other people that she wouldn't hesitate to eat his eyeballs out to survive before ever starving to death but it didn't bother Lupin one bit. He was the same way.
Zenigata stirred. He gave Lupin a little kiss on his chest, then sat up, groaning, and moved off the bed, rifling through his pile of clothes to find his boxers. Lupin wolf whistled at the view as he bent over.
Zenigata came back up with his boxers, cigarettes, and his lighter, pulling his underwear on and gesturing towards the balcony with his cigarettes.
"Sounds good," said Lupin. "I'll be out in a minute. Want some coffee?"
"God, yeah," said Zenigata. "Sounds great."
Zenigata slid open the balcony door and stepped out. Lupin threw on a plush hotel robe, started the hotel room coffee maker, and then walked back to the phone by the bed. Voice quiet enough for Zenigata to not overhear, he dialed the front desk and ordered room service- a pot of hot coffee, a plate of eggs benedict, some french toast, and two wildly overpriced mimosas. He paused when asked if that was all he'd like then after a brief deliberation of trying to remember what Zenigata liked added two bloody marys and some crepes to his order. It was all going on a stolen credit card Fujiko had swiped from some rich asshole anyway. Might as well be decadent.
After moving the now full thin styrofoam cup aside and resetting the little machine for another pour, grabbing both coffees, and kicking the AC unit with the side of his bare foot until it clicked back on, Lupin stepped out through the still-open balcony door, careful not to spill anything. The balcony looked out over the beach and ocean from several stories up and the view was just brilliant. Both the water and the broad, shirtless inspector who turned and beamed at Lupin as he stepped out, eyes soft and happy and with such a big smile. Zenigata looked as if he was so glad to see Lupin after an extended absence rather than having been roughly twelve feet apart for five minutes at most, even giving him a little wave with his hand holding his cigarette in addition to the smile. Adorable.
Zenigata was seated by a round glass table and had to scoot himself forward for Lupin to get by. Lupin sat in the chair right next to him and set both of their coffees on the glass. Zenigata stuck the cigarette he was already smoking in his mouth to free up both hands, took a fresh one out of the pack, and extended it up to Lupin between his middle and index finger. Lupin took it in his mouth. Using one cupped hand to protect the light from the sea breeze, Zenigata lit it with his other. Lupin reached up and gently held Zenigata's wrist, both as a thanks and to help him steady his hand. After his cigarette was lit Lupin took a long, satisfying drag. Then they both sat in comfortable silence in that warm breeze, looking out over the ocean.
Lupin almost regretted ordering the surprise room service so early. He wanted to drag Zenigata back to bed right then and there. Zenigata's big, sweet, dopey smile he always had on in moments like this, along with all his doting gentle little touches, his dark tousled hair, his big body relaxed and breathing slow and steady right next to him, drove Lupin crazy.
Having someone so fun and daring who was completely obsessed with him doggedly chasing him around the entire planet had been fun for Lupin. It fed his ego and it was always such an exciting challenge that he'd missed it terribly when Zenigata was hurt or put off the case and had always gone out of his way to bring Zenigata back. And then, later, out of his way to bring Zenigata closer. And closer. And closer. And it had all been more than worth it.
Because having someone so fun and daring who was completely obsessed with him as a lover was not just "fun", it was something else.
All that was left was to try to help Zenigata overcome those last barriers, break down the remaining walls, much weaker than when they'd first met but still there. Help the big man see his own value. After all, Lupin wouldn't have put all that work in to reel him in if he wasn't worth catching. Internationally famous master thieves had better things to do than waste time on someone unworthy of their attention. It was borderline insulting to Lupin if Zenigata saw their situation any differently.
There was a knock at the hotel room door and Zenigata tensed but calmed down after Lupin stood up, placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and squeezed back behind him and into the room.
Zenigata finished his cigarette and picked up his coffee, sipping it as he peeked through the gap in the sliding glass door. It took his eyes a moment to adjust from the bright seaside morning to the dim hotel room but when they did they widened. Lupin was wheeling a whole cart of fantastic-looking breakfast food and drinks toward the middle of the room. Lupin had even ordered crepes! Zenigata loved crepes but had only had them a few times. They certainly weren't the kind of food he'd ever order for himself. With his lifestyle, his salary, his mindset of him being a man who should be able to survive on instant ramen, beer, and black coffee alone.
"I figured we both worked up an appetite last night and wasn't sure what you'd prefer so I ordered about half the menu," said Lupin, picking up the mimosas and holding one aloft for Zenigata to take. Zenigata reached out and took it gently.
"Let's toast!" said Lupin, holding his own drink up.
"Toast?" asked Zenigata.
"A toast to Lupin III and Koichi Zenigata!" answered Lupin, full bravado mode activated even clad in nothing but a hotel robe. "Two men on opposite sides of the law who after years of chasing found themselves happily in each other's arms! A toast to such a touching and romantic story! To the world's greatest thief and the world's greatest inspector- an incredible, brave, kind, tenacious inspector that he loves!" he said, then paused as he lightly but sharply clinked his glass to Zenigata's and winked. "That Lupin sure is a lucky guy, huh?"
Zenigata was speechless. He stood there stunned for a moment before bringing up a shaky hand to take a sip of his drink. Lupin downed his own, set it on the cart, and grabbed a bloody mary to start on before looking back up at Zenigata, who still had his own mostly full drink at his mouth. Though trying very much not to, Zenigata was crying, moved to the point of being overwhelmed at Lupin's little speech. He was doing his best not to blubber into his mimosa. Lupin gently set the bloody mary back on the cart. Finally, after managing to choke down a sip, Zenigata set his drink next to it.
Zenigata then pulled Lupin into a tight but gentle hug, side of his jaw resting on Lupin's temple, arms around the smaller man, hands clinging tightly onto the robe across Lupin's back like Zenigata would slip and drown if he let go. Lupin wrapped his arms around Zenigata's waist, just as tight.
"I love you so much," said Zenigata. "I don't know how I- I'm so lucky. It makes me so happy just to be near you. It always has, almost from the moment I met you, Lupin. Now I get to hold you, touch you. It still doesn't seem real."
"Of course it's real," said Lupin. "And we're both very lucky."
Deep down Lupin was celebrating another little victory in the running series that had composed his conquest. Another wall down. The first sober, straightforward, non-pained, non-jumbled "I love you". Maybe those mimosas weren't overpriced after all. Lupin had definitely come out ahead here. He'd also have to thank Fujiko again for the credit card and thank Jigen for the advice to take Zenigata to a nice room in a quiet seaside town instead of any of the much more extravagant, over-the-top, admittedly lurid ideas he'd initially had.
"When I'm home I can't wait to chase you," said Zenigata into Lupin's hair. "And when I'm chasing you I can't wait to have you like this again. This is all such a gift. Thank you."
They stood like that for a moment before Zenigata continued, tone of voice still soft but now more playful. "Speaking of chasing you, what's next for the romantic hero Lupin III and his criminal gang, huh? A jewel heist? Bank vault robbery? Here? Hong Kong? Paris?"
"You know I can't tell you that," said Lupin. "And I know you wouldn't really want me to tell you that anyway."
Lupin registered that Zenigata was no longer crying. In fact he could hear a smile in his voice.
"Fair enough, Lupin. I meant it either way. I can't wait to chase you," he said slowly, timbre much more suggestive than his words. "Up a mountain, across the ocean, to the ends of the earth. You're quick but you know I'll always catch up."
"You can try, old man," said Lupin, pulling out of the hug a little to look up into Zenigata's eyes. Zenigata's face had a warm expression and Lupin's was playfully smug. "And as you well know by now, chasing me doesn't mean you'll ever actually catch me."
Oh, Zenigata was soft, yes. He was open-hearted and easy to read. His devotion was reliable, like clockwork.
"Hmm," said Zenigata, smiling down at Lupin, deep, rich voice filling the small space around them. "I don't know about that."
Zenigata's expression then turned devious, his sweet smile spreading out slowly to a wide grin and flash of teeth. Before Lupin could react Zenigata took a more aggressive stance and then pulled Lupin's body flush against his, shifting his arms down from Lupin's back to tighten around his waist and pull him close, all in one quick movement.
"I think I've got a pretty solid head start here!" he said, voice booming. "How's The Great Lupin going to get out of this one, huh?"
But there was one thing Zenigata was not, wouldn't ever be, as far as Lupin was concerned.
He was never boring.