Work Text:
It’s a normal enough winter day, maybe a bit too cloudy, but Ryuki isn’t inclined to complain. It’s not like the weather is of much importance down in the basement levels of ABIS, especially not when Boss stuck him with reorganizing some old case data up to modern standards. He’d much rather be out and about, subpar sky be damned, and searching for the New Cyclops Killer, but that’s his superior’s case, and Boss has made it crystal clear what she thinks of Ryuki lending a hand unprompted. So Ryuki isn't expecting much of anything beyond mind-numbing data re-entry and form corrections when Tama speaks up.
"You have a text message from Date,” she says, chipper as always. She pauses suddenly, as if lost in thought. "He's been a lot bigger on technology than he used to."
"Really? Hadn't noticed." Ryuki replies.
He quickly checks an aging yellow paper report against his monitor and spots a name misspelling. He corrects the digital version, documents the error fix, and sets the paper to the side. Only a few more left, then onto changing file locations. Yay.
"He bought a cellphone! Not even one of those jitterbugs with their big ass buttons, but a legit, modern smartphone."
Ryuki frowns. That… probably wasn't a good sign. Aiba had been spending more and more time away from him, so it made a certain amount of sense, but it probably wouldn't help the psyncer and AI's already strained relationship.
But Ryuki doesn't want to voice those worries to Tama - just because he's overthinking everything doesn't mean she should have to. "Can you read out the message, please?" he asks instead.
Tama, hand to god, actually squees in excitement. Ryuki’s surprised he doesn’t flinch from the shrill noise emitted directly into his skull.
"T-tama?!"
"Oh, this is good. I almost don't want to tell you what it says. Your poor little heart might not be able to handle it," she teases.
Ryuki doesn’t think too hard about what she's saying: at times like this, it's his best defense. So he very calmly scans through one of his forms, even ticks off the initial few boxes before replying, "I'm not a Victorian woman suffering from the vapors. Could you just read the text?"
"Fineee." She vocalizes clearing her throat. "Date says, 'Filing room, ASAP. Alone.'" She pauses for only a moment before pouncing on him, "That's a booty call - well, text - if I've ever read one."
Ryuki's posture automatically straightens. He caps his pen before stretching his shoulders.
"Don't tell me you're heading over right away?"
"That's what he asked me to do?"
"No," Tama whines. "You'll come off as desperate. I'm trying to save you here, Ryuki!"
Ryuki stands and fixes his chair back into place. He gives Tama the cold shoulder as he walks to the rendezvous point (he’s sure her imagination is keeping her plenty occupied).
He's about to open the door when he suddenly stops. "Can you read back the message?"
"Hm? Sure." Tama replies. "Date wanted you in the filing room at your earliest convenience, and said to come alone."
"Alone," Ryuki mutters aloud, as if the word had personally offended him.
"Yeah, weird specification. Like you'd bring Boss, Pewter, and the whole department along."
"Duh." Ryuki slaps his forehead lightly. "There's one person I'd always bring though."
His hand creeps toward his left eye.
"What? But I wanted to see all the action!"
"There's not going to be any action!" Even as he chides her, Ryuki keeps his hand hovering, not willing to move until she's on board.
After a long moment, Tama sighs. "Fine. But I want NOTES about this later, young man."
"Yes, of course, Lady Tama."
Only then does Ryuki pop the false eye out its socket and power it down. He can't help staring at the gray color it takes on when off. Sure, it matches his natural eye better, but it's odd to see Tama as anything but her vibrant red.
He slips the eyeball back in and opens the door.
The room greets him with an unusual darkness. He takes a few steps inward while waiting for his good eye to adjust.
The door slams closed. Ryuki jumps at the sound.
"Hello?"
A hand instantly clamps over his mouth while the other jerks him backward. Ryuki stumbles before turning around to get a glimpse at his tormentor. It takes a moment until he can see properly in the dim light, but he'd know that man's figure anywhere. The black and purple jacket blend in fairly well, but even the dark can’t dim the man’s bright green eye, nor the soft glow from his tied up, dirty blonde hair.
"Mister Saito!" Ryuki smiles.
Saito doesn’t match his smile per say, but the corners of his mouth twitch upward for a moment before smoothing out. He’s a lot more careful with his expressions these days.
"So loud," Saito chides softly. "It makes me wonder if you even want to keep this secret."
Ryuki winces at the questioning lilt. Does he really want to? No, but it's not up to him. Saito only regained his memories recently while pursuing the New Cyclops Killer case - back during the initial investigation, the complete disaster at the start of November. And if he doesn't want to tell anyone at ABIS, that's his decision. Ryuki should just feel honored that his superior shared the truth with him, not upset that it came with strings attached.
Part of him wants to question, persuade him otherwise even. But this is the man who trained him, who believed in him when he couldn’t seem to do anything right, who trusts him. He’s not in any position to demand justifications.
"Sorry,” he says, because he knows his superior can read him like an open book and there’s no way his hesitation over all this isn’t visible. “But I haven't told anyone, not even Tama. Just like you asked."
Saito comes closer and cards his hands through his subordinate's hair. "Oh? What a good boy."
Ryuki freezes. Saito's been a lot more casual about touching lately, but it never fails to catch him off guard. His heart shouldn't be hammering. The man’s thick black gloves never seem to come off these days, so there’s always a layer separating their skin from ever actually touching. Yet Ryuki can still feel a whisper of the coldness emanating from the older man's hands.
"That's what I like most about you. You listen so well," Saito coos. He lets his hands slowly drop to his side.
His face warps to barely concealed rage, shadows of disdain climbing across every crevice. His one good eye dances about like a buzzing bee. "Boss and the higher ups don't trust us. Why else outfit us with security cameras? Why hide my identity from me for so long? They're up to something, little Kuruto, and I can't let it slide any longer."
"Is that why you've been wearing the eye patch more?" Ryuki asks on instinct.
The way Saito's eye immediately flits to him, already narrowed, makes the young rookie pause. Did he overstep? Still, he supposes, it’s too late to back down. In for a penny, in for a pound, as the old saying goes.
"It's just," Ryuki continues, "anyone can see you and Aiba haven't been as close lately. When I started here, you were never separated. The rest of the office probably thinks you're fighting, and that's sure to raise some eyebrows."
Saito smiles ruefully. "Can't be helped, I'm afraid. Aiba prefers to spend too much time in Boss' office to even consider faking friendliness these days. And I'm not in the mood for it either."
Ryuki frowns. Normally, he'd defend Aiba, say she's not the type to feign niceties, but ever since this case took the turn for the worse, his superior hasn't been sold on their AI's personhood. And Ryuki gets the feeling the more he pushes, the more Saito will push back, and the last thing he wants to do is concede this point. Sure, Ryuki's only been partnered with his AI-ball personality for a few months, but he's certain she's just as sentient, individual, human as anyone. Ryuki can't start doubting Tama - he's sure he'd go insane if he did.
So the rookie does his best to school his face. "That's unfortunate," he says.
"Yes. So you can understand, Kuruto, why I need your help, now more than ever."
“I’m always happy to help you, Mister Saito. If anyone’s up to no good, we’ll find them.” Ryuki straightens his posture, trying to portray his dependability. “Tell me, and I’ll do it.”
Saito smiles and takes a few light steps away. He leans against an old filing cabinet. “I’m so glad to hear you say that,” he says in a soft, cutting tone.
He beckons and Ryuki follows. Saito hooks an arm around his waist, and Ryuki doesn’t make any sound as he’s spun and pulled closer until his back is pressed against the older man’s chest. All Ryuki can focus on is the pressure of Saito’s hands firmly pressed into either side of his hip.
Saito leans into him, slowly lowering his head to his subordinate’s neck, tracing each inch with hot breath. He positions his mouth perfectly against the young man’s ear.
“I. Want. You,” he whispers, dragging out each syllable and letting it hang. “To keep an eye on Boss, Pewter even. Whatever’s going on, they’re in on it together.”
Ryuki’s grateful that his face is mostly hidden - it certainly feels like it’s turning bright red. He swallows and wills his voice to sound normal, confident even. “Okay, but why? Is there anything you’re looking-”
His voice dies as Saito’s left hand meanders across, pressing against his inner thigh.
“Not in particular,” Saito dismisses. “But you’re right: I must seem odd to them nowadays. They keep their guard up around me. But you…”
His fingers splay out and stroke slowly. As he works them inward, Ryuki’s pretty sure his brain shuts down.
“Kuruto,” Saito purrs, and Ryuki knows he’s incapable of coherent thoughts. “My dear Kuruto Ryuki, they still think they can mold you into whatever they want: a perfect cop, a genius psyncer, their reliable rookie detective. Boss will trust you to be that, so she’ll slip up. And when she does, you’ll be waiting, won’t you?”
Before Ryuki’s brain can restart, he feels Saito’s teeth against his earlobe. Warm saliva fills the wound as Saito sucks on the flesh, steady and demanding. Fingers drape over the front of his pants and play there.
Ryuki must’ve croaked out something akin to a positive vocalization because all of a sudden Saito’s hushed laughter echoes through his ears. Before he realizes it, Saito has let go and moved away from him entirely.
“We should get going,” Saito says, tone completely flat. “Wouldn’t want anyone getting suspicious.”
Ryuki nods, not trusting his voice. He wonders briefly if his… mental… problems are acting up again. He thought things had mellowed out on that front, especially with making detective and then partnering with Tama, but hallucinations make more sense than anything that’s happened. Why else would his superior be looking at him so quizzically before turning harshly toward the exit?
He raises a hand to his ear and feels the indentations - not a hallucination or a dream then.
“Uhm,” Ryuki calls out suddenly, hand reaching to the retreating figure.
“What.” Saito barely looks at him.
If Ryuki was a better detective, hell even just a more confident person, there would be nothing short of three dozen questions he could ask. As it stands though, he knows none of them will be answered.
“Do you want to go out drinking tonight? After work, I mean.”
The green eye squints for but a second. “Why.”
It’s not a question Ryuki’s prepared for. “We haven’t gone in a while, I guess? Since you took up the Cyclops Killer case, I mean - and you missed the New Years party so, I thought maybe…”
Ryuki dares to meet Saito’s gaze, but finds nothing there. It bothers him more than he can articulate. And it should just be another small grievance filed away and forgotten, but instead it settles at the top of the stack of Things That Haven't Been Right threatening to topple over, and every bone in Ryuki's body demands some kind of justice or satisfaction.
“I’ll help you with whatever truth you want to uncover, Saito - ABIS seal or not." He's no longer worried about his voice or general awkwardness, but rather the near imperceptible micro-expressions of the man in front of him. "But I thought I was more than just a detective to you. I thought we were friends, at least, and I get that a lot has happened and if you don’t want to tell me everything, you don’t have to, but! I don’t think you’ve been happy, that you’ve even relaxed, for a second since then.”
Saito turns to fully face him. It’s hard to make out his expression, but Ryuki would call it halfway between attentive and skeptical.
“So what,” the older man asks, “drinking would change that?”
Again, never in a million years would Ryuki have guessed that was where his superior was going with this. “Doing something beyond work and conspiracies would, so yeah. We could talk about stuff again.”
How paradoxical it all is: his superior chose him as a confidante, yet Ryuki feels more locked out of the older man’s thoughts than ever. His lips were pressed against his ear moments ago, yet he’s never felt so much distance between them. Ryuki’s not naive enough to wish for things to go back the way they were before this earth-shattering case. If he could make Saito smile, truly genuinely smile just once, that’d be good enough.
A full minute passes in silence.
“Alright,” Saito finally says. Then, just as quickly, he leaves.
Ryuki stays in the filing room and fixes his hair, wondering what he’ll tell Tama once she’s back online. If he told her the truth, would she call their drinking plans a date? Regardless, Saito probably wouldn’t want Tama there, and there’s no way she’ll agree to being sidelined again as nicely as she did earlier. Shit, when did everything become so complicated?
He takes this opportunity to retrieve another file Boss wanted updated. Whatever, he signed up for a weird government agency that demanded he lose his left eye and invade people’s dreams to find circumstantial evidence - he really has no right to complain. So Ryuki will do what he always does: he’ll focus on his job, help those he can, and make sure the worst of the worst get what they deserve.