Work Text:
It’s a quarter past three in the afternoon. Mushitarou looks around the empty cafe under the Armed Detective Agency, trying not to let his nerves get to him, and sips the coffee in his hand.
Instantly, he yelps and slams it back down on the saucer with a loud clank, clapping a hand over his mouth.
“Why is it so hot?!” he complains. Mushitarou sucks in tiny gulps of air in an attempt to soothe his scalded tongue, but even the cold sensation doesn’t distract from the mild worry festering in his gut.
He checks his watch: Ranpo is late, as usual, but every minute that he waits just makes him even more unnerved. He just wishes the detective would show up and get… whatever it is over with as soon as possible.
The bell tinkles, and Mushitarou looks up to see Edogawa Ranpo storming towards him with a look that could shut up a class of noisy grade schoolers. He sits down with a thump and pulls out a half-empty bottle of ramune, the marble clinking as he knocks back the drink with almost demonic ferocity.
“Ranpo-kun,” greets Mushitarou apprehensively, but all it earns him is the evil eye from the detective. He huffs and looks away, taking another significantly smaller sip of his drink. Never try to decipher Ranpo’s intentions, you’ll just get more worked up about it…
“How long,” says Ranpo, his tone flat.
Mushitarou blinks, caught off guard. “How long what?”
“How long have you liked him?”
The accusation sends a chill down his spine, though Mushitarou can’t imagine why. “How long have I liked who?” he asks.
“Don’t act dumb, Mushitarou-kun,” snaps Ranpo, closed eyes creasing angrily at the corners. “Just answer my question.”
Mushitarou bites back a protest. He’s actually starting to get pissed off. “Fine. What was your question again?”
Ranpo’s eyes are green slits of pure loathing. “How long have you liked Poe-kun?”
What follows his query is a long period of silence, filled only by Mushitarou’s round eyes taking in Ranpo’s increasingly agitated expression.
At last, Mushitarou wills his mouth to obey him, and it opens.
“Hahahahahahaha!” God, he hasn’t laughed this hard in a long time, not even when he’d stumped Ranpo with his ability the day they met. “For shame! Your detective skills have finally failed you, Ranpo-kun! What on earth would suggest to you that I like Poe?”
Ranpo’s nose wrinkles. “You literally live with him,” he mutters, pouting.
The first spark of annoyance flickers in the back of Mushitarou’s head. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I like him or whatever!” he protests. “Besides, why would you care if I did? What are you, a jealous teenager or something?”
The thing that happens next makes Mushitarou wish he had the foresight to take a video.
Ranpo’s eyes fly wide open, and a wave of red colours his cheeks, like an omelette spreading in a frying pan.
“What?” he says, the word so soft that Mushitarou almost misses it.
Mushitarou presses his hands to his forehead. “Ugh, you always make such a big deal out of everything—”
Wait.
It hits him, and he lowers his hands, turns to properly face his friend.
“Ranpo-kun,” Mushitarou says, careful not to piss him off again. “Were you… actually jealous?”
He knows the question is unnecessary, though. Ranpo’s silence is evidence enough.
Unbidden, his mind takes him back to the mortifying incident that happened a few months ago…
~~~
“Ahh, Poe-kun, you have so many rooms in your house but nobody lives in them! You know, you could turn this entire wing into a bed and breakfast if you wanted, and you wouldn’t even run into anyone at all—”
Mushitarou froze mid-step as the door to his room banged open. Ranpo cocked his head curiously, an eyebrow raised at him like he was some mildly interesting article at a crime scene.
“EEEEEEHHHHHH—”
“Now, now, Mushitarou-kun, don’t yell! You’ll scare Karl so badly that he can’t eat dinner.” Ranpo shuffled in further, hands in his pockets and his usual infuriating smile on his face. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“What am I doing—What are you doing here?!” Mushitarou screeched, clutching at the fluffy towel wrapped around his body. “I live here, you idiot! What’s your reason?!”
He waited for the detective to fire back with his trademark careless cheer, but the grin had all but vanished from Ranpo’s face, as surely as if it had been erased by his ability.
“You live here? Since when?” he said.
“You’re literally the one who made me hide out here,” muttered Mushitarou, shooting him a mutinous glare. Though he had to admit, the house was more than he could have asked for, with spacious rooms and the simultaneously tasteful and comfortable furnishings. Plus Poe let him fill the shelves in his room with all his own books, and had even helped him procure some rare volumes that were missing from his collection. “Now answer my question. What are you doing in my room?”
Ranpo took a step backward, the oddly blank expression still on his face. “I’ll be going,” he muttered, stepping out into the corridor.
“Huh?” Mushitarou hurried after him. “Going where?”
Ranpo whipped back towards him, and this time, his face was a mask of abject fury.
“Home!” he yelled, so loudly that Mushitarou jumped.
Mushitarou stared at his retreating figure stomping down the hallway, before shrugging and closing the door. If the detective decided to be pissy out of the blue, it was none of his concern.
~~~
“So that’s why you yelled at me? You thought I was trying to get close to Poe?” Mushitarou scoffs and leans back in his chair. “That’s the most ridiculous theory I’ve ever heard.”
Ranpo takes another gulp of his ramune, arm draped across the back of his seat in an attempt to look casual. It’s not working, thinks Mushitarou. Not one bit. “The last time you said that to me, I was right,” he grumbles.
“Urgh. How many times do I have to tell you? I can’t stand mystery writers! Poe is a mystery writer! And that’s only point one on the list of reasons why I would never like him!”
Ranpo merely pouts with more force and looks away. Mushitarou takes it as a sign that he has no valid argument to make. Good. He pulls out his comb and runs it through his hair to neaten it.
“At any rate,” he continues, “you needn’t worry about having me as competition, Ranpo-kun. I have no intention of pursuing a romance with anyone.” Not anymore.
Ranpo sighs. “Fine, fine, I believe you,” he says, and when he looks back at Mushitarou, his expression is much more relaxed, albeit a bit pained. “Just… don’t tell Poe-kun, okay?”
Mushitarou looks at him, and a twinge of sympathy echoes in his chest. “Of course,” he agrees, gentling his tone. “You should definitely tell him at your own pace.” Ranpo shakes his head, however, and he frowns. “What? You want somebody to out you instead?”
The face Ranpo turns upon him is almost comically frustrated. “I mean I’m not telling him, Mushitarou-kun.”
Oh.
“B-but why not?” Mushitarou splutters. Those two are literally perfect for each other, so why…
Ranpo tips his head backward so far, it’s a miracle his cap doesn’t fall off. “Because he doesn’t like me back, obviously.” After the lack of response goes on for too long, he sits up again, frowning. “What?”
“Have you actually forgotten how to deduce anything,” deadpans Mushitarou, even while red gathers at the edges of his vision. “Of course Poe likes you back! It’s so obvious that he likes you back, it’s literally—”
He cuts himself off, unexpectedly overcome by his passion. Mushitarou presses his eyes shut, remembering the last time he saw Ranpo and Poe together, all while wondering how the hell he ended up actually attached to these two genius idiots. Seriously, he’s losing his touch.
~~~
“Ranpo-kun!” Poe’s face could have been mistaken for a lightbulb, what with how brightly he was smiling. “You’re here! Did you finish the novel I sent you the other day?”
“Indeed I did, Poe-kun,” answered Ranpo with an equally wide smile, sticking his lollipop in his cheek and pulling out the hardcover book in question (how Poe had so many of these blank and lying around his house, Mushitarou had no idea).
“Really? What did you think, then?”
“Well, there were marked improvements, for sure,” Ranpo began, garnering an excited yelp from Poe. “But—”
He stopped short, eyes fixed on a very mortified Mushitarou, who was standing in the hallway in nothing but his pyjamas. Some old habits die hard. Oh well, at least he’d combed his hair before exiting his room.
Poe turned, following Ranpo’s line of sight, and waved. “Good morning, Mushitarou-kun!”
“Good morning,” Mushitarou replied, fidgeting under Ranpo’s gaze still trained on him.
“Have you had breakfast yet? I left you some pastries in the kitchen,” Poe said. “Please help yourself. They’re unsalted, of course, since you hate the smell of salt.”
Mushitarou’s eyes widened, oddly touched. “Thank you,” he said, and smiled at the author.
Poe smiled back warmly, ever the perfect host. “It’s my pleasure, Mushitarou-kun. Anyways, Ranpo-kun,” he continued, turning back to the detective, “what were you saying about my novel?”
Ranpo finally managed to tear his eyes away from Mushitarou. “Oh, right, the novel!” he said. “Well, I was thinking that the introduction of the murder was definitely innovative, but the…”
He immediately launched into a rant about the overly obvious placement of certain key pieces of evidence at the crime scene, and Mushitarou took the opportunity to flee with an unprecedented amount of relief.
~~~
“Proof!” The now-empty ramune bottle clanks against the tabletop, abandoned, as Ranpo jabs a finger at Mushitarou. “I demand proof.”
“You say that like it’s difficult,” Mushitarou fires back, folding his arms. “Did you not remember how touched he was when you gave him a lollipop from your personal stash just for writing the safe house novel?”
Ranpo groans. “That doesn’t mean anything,” he whines.
“Oh? Then how about the fact that he stayed up all night just to finish it in time? Just because you needed it? And don’t,” he raises a finger, “don’t say I don’t have proof. I was there for most of it. It was torture.”
The slightest bit of doubt flashes across Ranpo’s face, but it’s immediately papered over by an aggressive shake of the head. “Poe-kun just lets people do whatever they want at his own expense. He’s nice like that. Dare I say it, he’s too nice. You should know first-hand, since you’re still living with him even though you have enough money to buy your own house.”
“Don’t drag my living arrangements into this again, detective,” warns Mushitarou. He pinches the bridge of his nose, and sighs, loud and long-suffering. “Anyway, my stand remains. You should tell him, Ranpo-kun. Even if you don’t think he returns your feelings.”
As expected, Ranpo begins to protest. “I’d rather have Poe-kun as my good friend than ruin what we have!”
“Do you really?” counters Mushitarou. “Does it really sound so good? Dying with the regret that you missed your chance?! That’s nothing like the obstinate Edogawa Ranpo I know! You don’t just give up when the odds are against you! And you must know it, deep down, that you would hate yourself if you never tried!”
Ranpo looks up at him suddenly, and Mushitarou bites back a curse. It’s like those green eyes are glasses that have just been freshly polished, and now they see through him, to what he pretends doesn’t haunt him every second of every day.
Mushitarou turns away, praying that the water in the corner of his eye goes unnoticed. Ranpo picks up the ramune bottle, plays absently with the neck of it.
“I’m sorry, Mushitarou-kun. I understand why you’re insisting. I really do. I’m just…” He huffs, like he can’t believe he’s saying it. “I’m scared.”
Mushitarou glances at him, feeling his mouth turn downward. He thinks back to the conversation he had with Poe last night, and the frown grows ever deeper.
~~~
“Mushitarou-kun,” said Poe, picking idly at his steak. “Do you think… that Ranpo-kun is perhaps avoiding me?”
Mushitarou frowned at him. “What makes you think that?”
Poe ducked his head, and his shaggy fringe fell even lower over his eyes. “Well, he hasn’t come to pay a call in a while. And he talks much less on our phone calls.”
He stabbed at a piece of steak, and Mushitarou realised that he actually felt bad. He felt awful that Poe was miserable, which was ridiculous, since he didn’t even know what could have caused it.
But something about Ranpo’s weirdness, especially around him, made him suspect that it might have something to do with him.
“If you want, I can ask him tomorrow,” he said. “He asked me to meet up at the Agency’s favourite cafe for tea or something.”
Poe looked up, clearly surprised. “You’d do that for me?”
“Sure. If it comes up.”
At his words, Poe slumped back in his chair with a grateful sigh. “Thank you so much, Mushitarou-kun,” he all but cried, much to Mushitarou’s mortification. “I appreciate it more than you could know.”
“It’s nothing,” he deflected. “You’re letting me stay in your house, it’s the least I can do.”
Poe nodded as if to say “that’s true”, but the melancholy was back not two moments later. “Well, Karl and I do enjoy your company,” he said. “And it’s much needed around here, now that Ranpo-kun doesn’t come by anymore.”
He went back to his food, leaving Mushitarou to do the same.
~~~
Mushitarou sighs for what feels like the millionth time in the past quarter of an hour, and grabs Ranpo’s shoulders across the table. “Listen to me carefully, Ranpo-kun,” he states. “Because I have a lot to say to you, and I’m only going to say it once. So you either remember the fuck out of it, or write it down somewhere. Understand?”
Ranpo looks peeved, but he nods anyway.
Mushitarou clears his throat. “Right. Okay. Look, Poe is one of the richest people that you and I know. He’s a skilful mystery writer with a fantastic ability, he has a big house and a raccoon and a frankly amazing library in that same house. He has everything he could ever want! Yet he put his life on hold to aid you in the Decay of Angels crisis. He provided you aid when you needed it most, engaged in all the dangerous operations you got into. And without question, he would do it again in a heartbeat.”
Ranpo’s eyes are wide as he looks at Mushitarou. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Mushitarou sighs. “I’m sure. So can you please go and make up with Poe, and tell him how you feel? I don’t think I can put up with his mopey face for much longer.”
Ranpo blinks at him for a long while, so long that Mushitarou thinks he’s forgotten how to do anything else. Finally, he gets up from his seat, swiping his ramune bottle off the table, and the grin Mushitarou has grown so familiar with is back, bigger and better than ever.
“Thanks, Mushitarou-kun. I know what I need to do now.” He shakes the bottle, making the marble clink joyfully against the glass. “Man, what would I do without a friend like you?”
Mushitarou rolls his eyes. “Die, probably,” he says. “Now go and get your lover, master detective.”
Ranpo all but skips out of the cafe, looking for all the world like a giddy teenager, and Mushitarou watches him with an exasperated smile, sipping at the coffee that has, by now, gone cold as ice.
And when he arrives home to an empty house and a note from Poe stating that he’ll be out for dinner, he can’t help but breathe a sigh of mingled relief and happiness.
Maybe good endings do exist after all…