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The Christmas season was never a particularly special time for Poe. In previous years, he often found himself in the solitude of his own home (unless Lucy dragged him out to some get-together, hosted by either the boss or Mr. Melville). He preferred it this way, really. Poe liked to appreciate the festivities from afar. It was much easier than trying to navigate his way through social cues and unnecessarily stressful conversation. All he needed was a good mystery and his best friend, Karl. Nothing more, nothing less.
But that was in the past. Something has changed recently, something that’s turned the author’s life on its head. This phenomenon is known as Ranpo Edogawa. Since weaseling his way into his life, the detective has managed to bring out emotions Poe has never felt before. These feelings make his heart pound in his chest and his breath stutter, and his face heat up at the mere mention of him. Somehow, Ranpo Edogawa has taken control of his mind, body, and soul. Though he’s embarrassed to admit it, Poe thought it was some sort of ability at first, that the world’s greatest detective had an ability that was on par with his intelligence.
Imagine his surprise when Lucy had to sit him down and explain that no, he wasn’t under the influence of a powerful ability, he was just in love. The revelation left him sputtering and red in the face. In love?! It seemed preposterous at the time. Poe has never been in love before. He’s loved before, but that’s different from being in love. He loves solving mysteries. He loves writing. He loves Karl and treasures him as a companion. He loves his ongoing rivalry with a certain detective. When he tells Lucy this, she just quirks an eyebrow up.
“Edgar… No one keeps a rivalry going for over six years…” She speaks slowly, gauging the other’s reaction. “Perhaps you should reevaluate your relationship with Ranpo.”
And with that, she left to leave Poe in his thoughts. Reevaluate? There was nothing more than two rivals, fighting tooth and nail to show who is intellectually superior. Well… that’s what he always thought it was. Perhaps he could use some time to think.
And so, he gave himself a few hours to think. And those hours turned into days, and those days turned into a week. He took an entire week to deliberate before deciding that he should talk to the man himself. Poe had to psych himself up for this kind of conversation– well, any conversation, really. Despite being an author, Poe has never been very good at using his words.
When he finally mustered enough courage to leave his house, Poe found himself face to face with those enchanting green eyes he sought out. It appears that fate had a similar plan to his own.
“Ranpo?” In front of him, the shorter man had a hand out, reaching for where the handle would have been if Poe hadn’t opened the door first. Of course, Ranpo would have just entered his home unannounced. It was just such a Ranpo-like thing to do.
“Poe-Kun!” Ranpo crosses his arms over his chest. “Aren’t you going to let me in? It took me a long time to get here, y’know.”
Oh. That’s right. Ranpo doesn’t know how to use the public transport system. But if he managed to get here by himself, then that makes this impromptu visit all the more charming. “O-Of course. Come in.”
He steps aside for the detective and follows in after him. Ranpo almost immediately makes himself comfortable in one of the large armchairs placed in the living room, his legs slung carefully over one armrest and his neck on the other. He sinks down ever so slightly into the plush cushions. Poe debates with himself on whether he should sit down and get straight to business, or try to engage in some small talk. After all, it has been a week since they’ve spoken to each other.
In the end, he didn’t do either. He decided that, despite his personal feelings, he couldn’t neglect his responsibilities as a host. Instead, he offered him food. If this conversation goes horribly wrong, he can at least put the detective in a better mood. If Poe has learned anything, it’s that food always makes the detective happy.
“Oh! Where are my manners? Can I get you anything to eat or drink? Some coffee, perhaps? Or some-'' He's rambling. It’s a bad habit of his. When he gets nervous, every thought he’s ever had escapes his brain into the open air one way or another. It never happened often while the Guild was still in working order since he rarely worked with other people but, when it did, it left him with quite a few stares. But that was to be expected. It wasn’t every day you see the Guild’s head architect become out of breath from talking—something that everyone knows he doesn’t do a lot of.
Fortunately, it seems that luck was on his side today. Ranpo grabs the end of his sleeve to stop him— both physically and mentally. “No, it’s fine.” Oh. This is serious. Hopefully, I’m not in too much trouble. Or maybe this doesn’t actually have anything to do with me. Maybe this is something the Agency needs help with. It wouldn’t be the first time they came to him for help. But then, why wouldn’t Ranpo just solve it himself-? “Just sit for a minute.”
Poe sits, though, not without fidgeting. He waits for Ranpo to go on. There was no way he would be able to continue this conversation. He wouldn’t know where to start. “Why haven’t I seen you in a week?”
Oh. So it is about him. “Well, I-,” He what? He doesn’t really know why, either. All that thinking made him more confused than before. “Ranpo, may I ask you a question?”
“Of course! There’s nothing that a genius like me can’t answer!” Ranpo puffs out his chest with pride.
Well, here goes nothing. Oh, how he wishes Karl was here to ease his nerves. That raccoon always chooses the most inopportune times to run off. “What are we, Ranpo? I mean- how would you label our relationship?”
“We’re boyfriends,” He replies instantly. His tone was bored, like he couldn’t believe Poe had the gall to ask such a ridiculous question. “Are we not?”
What . “We are?!”
The clacking of nails on the hardwood floor brings him out of his musings. Karl stops at the base of the counter for a moment and gets ready to jump up. When he makes it to the countertop, he inspects each ingredient (most likely looking for which ones he can eat). Edgar gently slaps his hands against his cheeks, bringing him out of his thoughts. Focus, Edgar! He mentally chided himself. He needs to stay in the moment because if he doesn’t, then his raccoon is going to knock over all of the things he prepared and the special Christmas Eve da te he planned will be ruined.
“Nuh-uh-uh! Karl, you stay down there for today,” Poe grabs Karl by his armpits and sets him back down on the floor. “Today is a very important day. We can’t let anything go wrong.”
Karl skulks off but stays close by in case there are any food-related emergencies. For having everything a raccoon could ask for, he sure acts like he’s starved. Karl is a needy little thing, but Poe is happy to provide for him. But enough about Karl. Ranpo should be arriving any moment now.
As if on cue, a knock comes gently rapping at the front door. Oh! He’s here! Poe smooths out any wrinkles that might have collected on his sweater. His nerves were in shambles. Sure, they’ve been on dates since they’ve gotten together– or more accurately since he became aware that they were already in a relationship— but this one feels more special. This is the first time he’s shared this holiday with anyone in a long time.
He hasn’t thought about it before, but Poe is very grateful for Ranpo. Not just because the man makes him feel warm inside, or because he always proofreads his manuscripts and never complains about it. It’s not even because he enjoys having intellectual conversations with someone who’s very similar to himself. It’s because Ranpo has forced him out of seclusion. Poe didn’t realize it for the longest time, but perhaps he was getting lonely. Everyone at the Guild knew not to invite him to parties after a while. He was grateful for it. Really, he was, but every Guild-hosted event was so stuffy. There wasn’t any room to even pretend to enjoy yourself.
When Ranpo invited him to an ADA holiday party earlier that week, he was more than unsure about it (“Is it really ok that I attend this party? We were just at war with each other not too long ago.” “Water under the bridge! Come on, let’s go before all the food is gone!”). When he entered the office, it was tense— well, he was tense. How could he not be? He hasn’t attended a social gathering in years and almost every person in the room could absolutely destroy him in a fight if they wanted to. He was sure that even the office workers are well trained. But despite everything, Ranpo couldn’t be any more oblivious to his discomfort. The detective led them easily through conversation and chit-chat. As time wore on, Poe grew more comfortable in the environment, so much so that he didn’t even notice when Karl hopped off his shoulder to go see the little blond boy across the room. By the time the pair left, it was well past sundown and the stars shone above the city.
Both gatherings had drastically different atmospheres, but Poe couldn’t place why for the longest time. Then it hit him. The Agency had what felt like familial bonds. Despite everyone coming from different backgrounds, they all treated each other the same way a family would. On the other side of the spectrum, the Guild had none of that. They were all just coworkers. There was nothing special between any of the members. Even outside of the conventional workplace, each member’s rank was taken into consideration. There was much pressure to keep the social hierarchy intact while attending those soirées.
There’s another knock at the front door, this time a little louder. Whoops. Poe hurries to let his date inside. While he opens the door, he catches the back end of Ranpo’s conversation with Yosano— He is almost 100% sure that’s what Ranpo said her name was, at least. He’s much too nervous to confirm it.
“Do you think he knows what it means?”
“Of course not. But he doesn’t need to know right now— Poe! It sure took you long enough! I’m freezing out here!”
Poe laughs sheepishly, running the back of his neck. “My apologies. I was merely lost in thought.” He tries not to look directly at Yosano. He feels like he might turn to stone if he does. “Why don’t you come inside?”
As the two entered the writer’s home, Yosano called after them teasingly. “Have fun, Ranpo~!”
“Shut up!”
The door shut, muffling Yosano’s cackling laughter and the click of her heels retreating from the front of his home. Poe let out a sigh of relief—he wasn’t aware he was holding one in to begin with.
“So, Sunshine, what are we doing today?”
Oh, how those nicknames could make Poe melt into the floor. He resists the urge to bury his face in his palms. It’s so embarrassing, yet he can’t get enough of it. He never knew that the two of them would be such saps for romantic things such as pet names.
“Well, I thought we could try to bake some cookies tonight. But, of course, we could always change plans if you don’t find this particularly interesting—“
Ranpo silences him by grabbing Poe’s hand in his own and practically dragging him off to the kitchen. “I would love to bake cookies with you.”
It was chaos from the get-go. Poe should have known that Ranpo didn’t know how to make cookies either. It was simply out of his area of expertise. Anything outside of sleuthing and detective work wasn’t worth his brainpower. Despite not having any prior knowledge, Ranpo seemed happy to learn (He was not happy to learn. In fact, he found this whole baking thing to be rather tedious. Why couldn’t he just eyeball it and put in as much as he wants? But despite his internal complaints, Ranpo is just happy to spend time with the American.).
They were making a batch of chocolate cookies—or, well, trying to. Right now, they have a pile of “dough” that has a horribly unbalanced sugar to everything else ratio. Poe is sure that it wouldn’t be edible if they did decide to bake it. It was when Ranpo accidentally dropped a cup of all-purpose flour on top of Karl that Poe made the decision to put him in charge of something else for the time being.
“Perhaps, I should take over the cookie dough making,” Poe said while setting Karl down on the table (away from the food) and patting the flour away. Once the raccoon is sufficiently clean, Poe places him back down on the floor. He’ll need a bath when all this is done.
“I can do it! It’s not my fault that Karl is constantly under our feet,” The detective pouted. He’s right, of course. He’s always right. Karl has a horrible tendency to wait by your feet when you’re cooking. Poe doesn’t use the kitchen nearly enough to curb the habit, though.
“I know you can do it, my love,” Poe chuckles softly. “I was merely suggesting that I do that while you do something much more enjoyable.”
“… Like what?”
“Like making the icing.”
Ranpo physically perked up. Of course he would be more excited to make the sweetest part rather than the actual cookie. Anyone with eyes can see that Ranpo has quite the sweet tooth.
“Deal!” Ranpo makes a grab for the icing recipe, but Poe is quicker.
“Ah-ah-ah! Hold on!” The writer holds the recipe out of the other’s reach, using his height to his advantage. “You can’t make it too sweet. I want to be able to enjoy it too.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Not too sweet. Got it!” Ranpo snatches the paper out of Poe’s hands and quickly gets to work.
Poe laughs to himself as he cleans up their previous attempt. It wasn’t pretty but it was theirs. There was something oddly domestic about all of this. Maybe it’s because it’s with him. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t picture doing this with anyone else— not that he tried to think very hard to begin with. He was very content with the situation.
Now that everything is back on track, things seem to be going smoothly. Ranpo was making steady progress with the frosting. Surprisingly enough, there was less of a mess now than when he was making the cookie dough. Maybe it was because there were fewer dry ingredients involved… That didn’t make any sense to Poe. Wouldn't wet ingredients make a bigger mess? Oh well. There was no use in trying to rationalize it.
Time seemed to fly by after that. They filled the empty space with music from Poe’s old-fashioned radio and idle chatter. If given the choice, he would choose that old radio over anything else. Though it wasn’t in the best condition— that was apparent if the crackling of the speakers was anything to go by— but he liked it. That staticky sound reminded him of a simpler time. Unfortunately, not everyone shares that same sentiment. If anyone from the Guild saw that old thing, they would certainly urge him to replace it with a newer, more advanced one— or to just get rid of it entirely.
The cookies were in the oven in what felt like an instant. Now, all that was left to do was wait… Something that neither of them were very good at doing. Ranpo waited anxiously by the glass window on the oven door and Poe stirred the icing every once in a while to keep it from hardening. Now that there is nothing left to do, Poe’s mind drifts back to Ranpo and Yosano’s conversation before the date. What does he not know? And why doesn’t the writer need to know? Perhaps, it truly does not concern him but his curiosity is running rampant. He always desires to know more, especially if it involves a certain detective.
“Darling, may I ask you a question?”
“I’ve already told you,” Ranpo huffs, turning away from the sweets baking in the oven. “You don’t have to ask if you can ask me questions. I am always happy to provide an answer for you.”
Poe’s heart melts ever so slightly. He knows that Ranpo doesn’t do anything — let alone answer questions that he doesn’t think are worth his time. Perhaps he’s overthinking it all, but Ranpo’s willingness to humor his curiosity implies that every word, every second, every inch of his being was worth it. Poe was worth it. It took time, but he’s learned that he’s worth more than just being Ranpo’s “sidekick”. Ranpo often had to remind him that they were equals in this world.
“Well, I overheard you and Yosano speaking outside the door earlier- I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, I swear- and I was wondering what she meant when she asked ‘Does he know’? Know what?” Poe fidgeted with a loose thread on his sweater. He’ll have to remember to snip it after everything is all said and done. But that’s not important right now.
“Oh,” A light dusting of pink spread across Ranpo’s cheeks. “Well, Christmas in Japan isn’t really celebrated as a religious holiday. It’s celebrated more as- er, just a day to be happy or something.”
Poe nods along dumbly as Ranpo speaks, waiting for the answer to his question. Although, it didn’t matter whether he got an answer or not. The American could spend an eternity listening to Ranpo talk. There’s so much inside of that brilliant mind of his and Poe wants to hear about it all. Every passing thought and ingenious solution would be followed with rapt attention. Though it sounds obsessive in nature, he knows that Ranpo would treat his thoughts the same way. It makes Poe’s heart race just knowing his respect is reciprocated.
Ranpo never made it apparent— no, that would be too easy. His admiration is subtle, a soft overtone barely discernible underneath the facade of an overconfident detective. Like most, Poe got caught up in the flourish and the theatrics of his crime-solving antics, but the person underneath all of that was far more interesting to him.
“Christmas Eve is the same, just for romantic partners…”
Oh. Romantic partners. That makes sense, at least, he thinks. If Christmas was meant to be celebrated with family, then it was understandable that the prior night would be saved for couples. But then again, why celebrate separately? Do couples feel like it’s necessary to make the holiday more memorable? Or—
Wait.
Romantic partners.
That’s what they are. They’re romantically involved with each other. They’re boyfriends . It’s embarrassing to think that it took Poe this long to realize the implications of what Ranpo was saying. Edgar was a smart man, but those smarts did not carry over to social situations.
Heat crawled up the length of his neck up to the tips of his ears. That’s the downfall of being so pale. It makes it extra apparent when Poe is flustered. Usually, Ranpo would make fun of him, but it appears that he is in the same position as Poe. His blush paints his cheeks a lovely shade of dark pink, contrasting nicely with the vibrant hue of his open eyes. It reminded Poe of Christmas in a way. Green and red– Well, pink in this case. But, really, pink was just a tint of red, so the difference didn’t really matter.
“A couples’ holiday!?” Poe finally sputters out after a few moments to process. His hands find their way to his face, covering it even though both men are aware that the skin underneath is the color of a ripe tomato. Ranpo lets out a hearty laugh, his previous embarrassment already dissipated. The sound flitted alongside the crackle of whatever song was playing on the radio. Out of all of the holiday tones he’s heard this season, Poe has decided that Ranpo’s laugh is his favorite. It’s bright but not squeaky, loud but not overbearingly so. It rings like bells wherever he goes. His laugh portrays every bit of mischief and wit and everything in between that his body doesn’t show.
Edgar believes that a person’s laugh can reveal a lot about a person. When Mr. Fitzgerald laughed, there was always a sort of hollowness to it, like he was experiencing joy but he wasn’t truly happy. It was sad, but that was why they were in Japan in the first place: To fix that hollowness. Now, Mark’s laugh was something boisterous. It came straight from the bottom of his stomach and it filled every corner of the room, no doubt reflecting his overflowing confidence in himself. Some nights Poe finds himself rather envious of Mark’s belief in himself. But other nights he thinks about how tiring it must be to use so much energy to just believe in himself. He usually just brushes off the thought after that. He enjoys being on the more reserved side of everything. And then there’s that young boy that works with The ADA— the same one that Karl gravitated to at the party, Kenji-Kun, if he recalls correctly— laughs with the freedom of the wind. It’s a pure, genuine thing that Poe rarely heard while working with The Guild.
Ranpo gently takes Poe’s hands in his own. There was a light dusting of flour over his hands, but that didn’t matter. He enjoyed the feeling of Ranpo’s warmth encasing his hands, which are cold in comparison. Ever since Poe had met him all those years ago, Ranpo had always run a little warm. Not in an unhealthy way, of course. He was warm in the same way that the morning rays were.
Ranpo himself had many sun-like qualities (besides the natural heat his body emitted). His overall demeanor easily melted the icy walls that surrounded Poe’s heart. As that frozen exterior melted away, his heart grew under the light of Ranpo’s affection. Love sprouted, turning the formerly barren plain rich with an unrivaled fondness for the detective. Perhaps that was his favorite thing about the detective: His ability to allow others to grow in his care (whether they knew he was looking after them or not). He loved the way that those piercing green eyes knew exactly what he needed with a single glance, and how those same eyes captivate his mind late at night. And Poe loves the way his skin tingles underneath layers of clothes after a single, fleeting touch, and–
Oh, he got distracted again. It was only for a moment, but in that time, Ranpo had moved again. Edgar registers the feeling of Ranpo’s index finger swiping across the tip of his nose, leaving a small blot of icing in its wake. Poe widens his eyes slightly in surprise, his eyebrows inching closer to his hairline. In contrast, Ranpo’s eyes are closed and there is a wide grin on his lips. In one smooth motion Ranpo cups his face with both hands and, standing up on his toes, kisses away the sweet substance.
“W-Wha–? Huh!?”
“My dear, Edgar. My dear, dear Edgar, you think too much.” Ranpo says softly, his smile never wavering. One hand leaves Poe’s face and reaches behind him into the bowl of icing again, making two indents into the otherwise uninterrupted surface. Similarly to the first time, Ranpo wipes the frosting on his face; This time on his lips rather than his nose.
I think I know where this is going , Edgar thinks belatedly.
Without giving him time to flounder, Ranpo pulls him down into a tender kiss. Ranpo’s lips against his own. And for once, Edgar has nothing he needs to say. He places his hands, which were previously at his side, on his lover’s waist to pull him closer. The close contact makes his skin thrum with emotion. He has never had someone who loves him so dearly, and who he loves with just as much vigor and passion. Falling in love with Ranpo was the easiest thing he has ever done. It amazed him just how easily Ranpo had fallen for him as well.
Without separating their lips, Ranpo loops his arms around Poe’s neck and pulls him down further to his height. Edgar’s back craned awkwardly due to their difference in height, but that was no matter. There was nowhere else he would rather be than in his lover’s arms like this, surrounded by his very being.
Edgar enjoys kissing Ranpo, and he’s pretty sure the other feels the same. If it weren’t for his need for oxygen, he would spend far more time kissing him than he does now. Speaking of which… Beneath the steady pounding of his heart, he can feel his lungs start to strain. He silently curses his human body before pulling away, leaving less than an inch between them. His breath comes out in small puffs, ghosting across Ranpo’s lips. He can faintly taste the excess icing leftover from their first kiss. They’ll have to do something about that.
“I love you,” Edgar mumbles against Ranpo’s lips, ready to steal another kiss. From this distance, he can practically taste Ranpo on his tongue. He was sweeter than any candy Poe’s ever tried, yet so natural at the same time. It was more intoxicating than even the finest of wines. Edgar was so starved for the man’s affection, it made him wonder how he managed so long without it.
Look what you’ve turned me into, he thought fondly.
Just as he’s about to press a proper kiss to Ranpo’s lips, the shrill buzzing of the kitchen timer fills the air. Edgar makes no attempt to hide his displeasure at being interrupted. What unfortunate timing. But there was no time to stew in his irritation when Ranpo carded his fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck like that. Poe is a weak man. A very weak man indeed. But if this was his kryptonite, then so be it. He was perfectly content to remain shackled in this “weakness” of his.
Alas, all good things must come to an end. As time resumed itself, Ranpo untangled his arms from around Edgar’s neck and separated their bodies, moving to check on their cookies. The cookies… right. That’s why they’re here—not to kiss in the kitchen until they are both breathless and red in the face. Poe fought against the complaint that sat on the back of his tongue as it threatened to spill.
Ranpo slipped through his grasp with ease. He only takes a few steps before stopping, only for a moment, and then, as if it were an afterthought, he turns back and presses another chaste kiss to Edgar’s lips. No matter how many Ranpo gives him, each one will feel the same as the first—like a shot of electricity has been injected straight into his veins. The aftermath tingles pleasantly in his lips and spreads all the way down to his fingertips.
“I love you, too.”