Archive of Our Own

“You are infuriating.”

The thief grinned at Akutagawa’s words, kicking his legs like a child as he sat on the high wall. He held a gemstone between his fingertips, rotating it under the night sky and watching the moonlight refract through with fascination.

“You got my calling card?” he asked, still smiling.

He wore his usual nonsensical attire — black clothing lined with bright yellow, a ridiculous top hat, and an eye mask covering only his right eye. His entire appearance was oxymoronic, half-built for stealth and half for performance as if he couldn't decide whether he wanted an audience to his crimes or not. Around his waist was a belt much too long, resembling a tail — probably referencing some distasteful pun about him being a catburglar, if Akutagawa had to guess.

This costume, along with his obnoxious personality, was exactly why Akutagawa hated him.

Oh, and also the fact that he was the most wanted man in Yokohama.

The thief hopped down from his perch, his boots crunching against the gravel as he landed. He tucked the jewel into his pocket with an expression that made it obvious how pleased he was with himself. His bright eyes scanned Akutagawa from head to toe.

“You look a little worn out today, Ryuu. Rough journey?” he said, voice playful. Akutagawa bristled at the nickname.

“I don’t recall giving you permission to address me as such,” he snapped. “Nor do I recall telling you of that name’s existence in the first place.”

“What, so you can do your investigating but I can’t? That seems unfair.”

The thief closed the distance between them, his belt dragging on the floor. When they were only a few feet apart, he continued, “Are you just upset because I know more about you than you know about me?”

Akutagawa scowled at him. His glare was met straight on, a hint of smugness ghosting pale pink lips.

“I know exactly who you are, Nakajima Atsushi. Not that it matters”—Akutagawa pulled a folded piece of paper out of his coat pocket—“and yes, I received your childish note.”

Atsushi visibly brightened seeing him holding the letter covered in his scratchy handwriting. He glanced around the street they were standing in, puzzled by its vacancy.

“I was kind of expecting you to show up with a hundred armed men after I told you the location of my next job. Good to see your ace detective pride hasn’t changed.”

“You vastly overestimate the size of our workforce,” Akutagawa replied, his expression flat. “Besides, I have no need for such things when I can arrest you unassisted right here and right now.”

With that declaration, his hand flew to his belt, grabbing his taser. Or rather, grabbing at the empty air where his taser usually rested. What?

Had he not brought it? Akutagawa’s mind raced. He could picture the device laying in the desk drawer of his office. Oh no.

Fuck. Everything had been a rush since receiving Atsushi’s letter, with him jumping at the opportunity to catch the criminal that had evaded him for so long. He must have forgotten to properly equip himself in his hurry.

A beat passed, Akutagawa's hand hovering awkwardly next to his own waist. Atsushi raised his eyebrows, waiting.

“Uhm… here I still stand, walking free,” he said. “Are you gonna get to work on that?”

It was no problem. He was a trained detective. He wouldn’t have gotten this far with no skill in hand-to-hand combat. Akutagawa curled his hands into fists.

This moment was what he would later refer to as ‘where it all began’.

Akutagawa lunged for him. Atsushi dodged, his reaction time as quick as ever, but a surprised chuckle still escaped his chest. He sprung backwards, landing gracefully on his feet. Akutagawa cursed. He really was a catlike bastard.

“You’re surprisingly fast for an old man,” Atsushi teased.

“We are two years apart in age,” Akutagawa responded with an eye roll.

“Oh, so you actually have been doing your research. I was getting worried our little thing was one-sided.”

Atsushi dropped into a crouch to avoid the punch that was headed straight for his nose. He thrust out his foot, knocking Akutagawa’s legs from underneath him. Akutagawa fell to the ground with a wince.

“There is no ‘thing’,” he hissed, rubbing at the part of his back that had hit the concrete.

“I think there’s a thing.”

“There is not.”

“Yes there is.”

“You are mistaken.”

“Am I?”

Akutagawa groaned, cutting off their back and forth. He pulled himself back to his feet, rolling his shoulder.

“Insufferable as always,” he said, unhooking a pair of handcuffs from his belt. Thankfully, he hadn’t forgotten everything. “Make this easier for the both of us and put these on.”

Atsushi considered the cuffs for a moment, stroking his chin in thought. “Those don’t look very comfy."

“They aren’t. Your comfort is no concern of mine.”

Multicolored eyes crinkled with amusement at his blunt words. Then, Atsushi began walking towards him, the sudden change in movement making Akutagawa take a few steps back in shock. Doing so caused his already aching spine to collide with a street light. Since when had that been there? He was going to have so many unsightly bruises come tomorrow morning.

While he was busy feeling sorry for his future self, Atsushi snatched the cuffs from his grasp, grabbing his arms and wrenching them around the back of the pole. Akutagawa kneed him square in the stomach, but he felt the metal click around his wrists and knew that he had acted too late.

“Thought you might like to test how cozy they are yourself,” Atsushi said, but his smirk was strained from the pain in his abdomen. “Do you sharpen your knees or something?”

“I might consider doing so if another opportunity to injure you presents itself,” Akutagawa replied, glaring at him.

He struggled against his restraints. It was pointless, the cool steel cutting into the soft flesh of his forearms. The key for release was on his left hip, and there was no way he could reach it now without help. He collapsed against the street light with a grunt, sliding down until he was resting on the sidewalk.

Atsushi seemed to take pity on him, his expression softening at the sight of his pursuer slumped so pathetically. He crouched, removing his top hat and gently placing it on Akutagawa’s head. The action was less tender than it could have been, given that Akutagawa was already wearing a cap of his own, but it caused his breath to catch.

“A parting gift for my favorite stalker,” Atsushi whispered.

Akutagawa had the bizarre desire to rip that eye mask from his face. He probably would have followed through with it, were his hands not bound in cuffs.

He opened his mouth to retort, to pay Atsushi back with one last juvenile insult, but no words left his lips. All he could do was stare at the black streak running through his now fully-revealed hair. Akutagawa pointedly did not think about how the two contrasting colors matched his own.

Atsushi gave him one more soft smile before standing to full height. He inhaled deep, breathing in the cool night air.

“It’s been fun." He looked down at Akutagawa. “Well, for me at least.”

Akutagawa gave one last futile tug at his restraints. The sound of the metal scraping was unpleasant.

Atsushi walked away without so much as a goodbye. Not that Akutagawa had expected one. His torso was buzzing with a weird sensation, as if there was something fluttering beneath his skin. It was probably the adrenaline.

He had a persistent feeling that this would not be his last close encounter with Nakajima Atsushi.

(Akutagawa was forced to wriggle himself in a very unsophisticated manner to dislodge his phone from his pocket and call Higuchi, who immediately began to fret over him. The ride back to the office was humiliating. Higuchi didn’t ask where he had gotten the extra hat.)

Their next meeting was a total coincidence.

Akutagawa had been called late at night to aid the police with the capture of a thief at a nearby art gallery. He had arrived with great haste, a small part of him suspecting (hoping) that it could be Atsushi. He was sorely disappointed.

The man was unbelievably amateur, being caught by the motion sensors and then locked inside the room he was attempting to steal from. It was almost tedious how easy he had been to arrest. Akutagawa had tased him to the floor the moment he'd made some pathetic attempt at escape.

The robber spat at the his shoes from where he lay twitching on his stomach. Akutagawa’s lip curled in disgust. How uncivilised.

He had been foolish to believe a thief with the skillset of Atsushi would be caught so easily, let alone by the incompetent police. He rubbed his eyes, regretting waking up at such an hour for this nonsense. Akutagawa motioned for the surrounding men to escort the criminal outside.

A headache began to twinge at the back of his skull. The artificial lighting of the gallery burned his eyes. He pushed open the door to an adjacent room, hoping for a brief moment of quiet away from the bumbling officers.

The sight he was greeted with caused him to stiffen. The door fell shut behind him with a click.

Atsushi was there, one foot on the windowsill, freezing at the sound of someone walking in on his crime. He gripped a rather expensive-looking painting under his arm as though it were a mere schoolbook. Seeing that the intruder was Akutagawa, his shoulders relaxed.

“Hey, it’s been a while,” he said, raising his free hand in greeting.

Akutagawa stared at the him blankly. There was a good ten meters of distance between them. The only somewhat ranged weapon he had was his taser, which was sitting unloaded on his hip. There was no way he could put in a new cartridge before Atsushi escaped.

He sighed. He was far too tired for this.

Atsushi lifted his other foot onto the windowsill slowly, confused by the lack of pursuit.

“You aren’t even going to try and stop me?” he asked, his voice echoing in the silent room. “You’re not a very good detective.”

Akutagawa’s eyes narrowed. He took a few cautious steps forward, expecting to Atsushi to leap out of the window and dash off into the night. Atsushi did no such thing, watching him approach with amusement.

“Are you not going to flee?” Akutagawa retorted. “You’re not a very good criminal.”

Atsushi laughed. He readjusted the painting under his arm, taking a seat on the windowsill.

“And yet, you’ve never caught me. You’re the one who’s bad at his job.”

Akutagawa scoffed. “My boss would disagree.”

“Then I guess he doesn’t know you like I do."

Strange, Akutagawa had that buzzing feeling again.

He noticed Atsushi was wearing his signature top hat. When had he gotten that back? The thought of him breaking into the agency to reclaim it didn’t bother Akutagawa half as much as it should. He must be more exhausted than he realized.

“I’m afraid I was preoccupied dealing with another of your sort just now. As a result, I lack the means to subdue you.” Akutagawa gestured to the absence of cuffs on his belt.

“I figured,” Atsushi said, resting his chin on his palm. “Also, ‘my sort’? That guy? You wound me.”

“My apologies,” Akutagawa replied, sounding completely unapologetic. Atsushi’s smile grew. Why was he always smiling at him?

“You know—” Atsushi began, only to be cut off by a knock on the door.

Akutagawa spun around, glaring daggers at the door as if to threaten it not to open. He didn’t want to deal with the fallout of being caught chit-chatting with a wanted man.

Luckily, the door remained shut. A timid voice drifted through the wood.

“Sir? Are you alright?”

Oh, it was Higuchi. The tension in Akutagawa’s brow disappeared. He could dismiss her fairly easily. Unfortunately, he wasn’t given the chance to try.

“Looks like our time is up,” Atsushi said, quiet so as not to alert Higuchi of his presence. “Bye, Ryuu.”

Before Akutagawa could turn and berate him for the nickname, Atsushi had vanished. The open window was the only indication that he had ever been sitting there at all.

The third time he met Atsushi was the worst, in Akutagawa’s opinion. Then again, it was also the time that he came to understand him the most.

That day, there was a commotion at the agency. A mansion on the edge of the city had been robbed by the renowned phantom thief. Many conflicting reports came in, but they all shared one key detail — there was blood on the scene. Someone had been injured.

Akutagawa’s gut twisted uncomfortably. He had never pegged Atsushi as the type to harm a civilian. He felt betrayed, almost. 

It was his own fault, he decided. He should’ve known better than to fall for a criminal’s charm.

Sending Higuchi out to handle the witnesses — she was a lot better with people than he was — Akutagawa made his way to the crime scene alone. A singular police officer was standing guard inside the room, rushing to greet him when he walked in.

“What happened?” Akutagawa said, his voice coming out unexpectedly harsh. The officer’s eyes widened at his temper.

“There was an attempted robbery,” he explained. “We are in pursuit of the suspect.”

Akutagawa fought back the urge to sigh. He wasn’t that uninformed.

“And the victim?” he pressed.

“I’m sorry, sir? I’m not quite sure what you mean.”

“I was told there is blood on the scene.”

“Oh,” the policeman said, processing. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding, detective. The injured party was the suspect.”

What?

Akutagawa’s gut twisted again, though he was less sure of the reason this time.

“He was hurt?”

“Yes. The young girl who lives here caught him breaking in and acted accordingly. She cut him with a bread knife from the kitchen.”

Akutagawa shifted on his feet. He spotted smudges of red around the window frame.

“I see,” he said. “Thank you.”

He turned, striding out of the room. The officer watched him leave, taken aback by the abrupt exit.

Atsushi was hurt. Quite badly, if he had left enough blood on the scene to be noticeable. An injury of that severity meant he couldn’t have gotten far.

This was his chance. He could put an end to this cat-and-mouse game once and for all. Akutagawa quickened his step.

Where would he go, if he were the phantom thief? Somewhere to lay low and regain his strength, most likely. Somewhere like…

He noticed a small street that curved away from the main road. It was sheltered by the overhanging roofs of the adjacent buildings. He made his way over.

As he turned the corner, he heard a wheeze. Bingo.

Akutagawa’s feet came to a stop in front of the hunched form of the man he had been chasing for months. Recognizing the familiar shoes, Atsushi’s eyes shot up. 

“Hello Sherlock,” he said through a grimace. His gloved hand was wrapped tight around his forearm, putting pressure on what must be the knife wound.

Akutagawa met his gaze evenly. “It seems your reign of terror has come to an end, Nakajima.”

“I messed up,” Atsushi gave him an exhausted smile. “It comes with the job.”

Finally. He had won. Akutagawa unclipped the handcuffs from his belt and leaned down, pulling Atsushi’s hand out of its grip on his other arm and ignoring the pained hiss the action elicited. Just as he was about to lock the metal around Atsushi’s wrists, he paused.

He was… unsatisfied. It was idiotic, really. This was real life, not some crime fantasy novel. There was never going to be any flashy final battle between them. Still, Akutagawa couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

Leaning back on his haunches, he let go of Atsushi’s arms and gave him one final once-over. He ignored the little voice in his head asking him why he was buying time.

Something wasn’t right.

“Where is the item?” Akutagawa prodded.

“…Huh?” Atsushi said dumbly, not expecting the sudden interrogation.

“Whatever you stole. Where is it?”

Atsushi’s eyes widened as he caught on to Akutagawa’s train of thought.

“Oh, Ryuu, I didn’t,” he stammered. “I— I didn’t take anything.”

Akutagawa frowned. That went against all the information he had been given thus far. How had Atsushi become badly injured, if not caught unawares while in the process of stealing the mansion’s valuables?

“What?” Akutagawa questioned. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “It’s stupid. It’s just, that girl, she looked so scared of me. So I couldn’t… I know, I should put me and Kyouka first, but I just couldn’t—“

What the hell was he talking about now? The girl he mentioned must be the one who had cut him, but that didn’t explain the second half of his sentence.

“Kyouka?” Akutagawa asked.

“My little sister. Well, not by blood. That’s why I do all this"—Atsushi waved a vague hand in the air—“to provide for us.”

Akutagawa bit the inside of his cheek. That was his motivation? Providing for his family? It was disturbingly human. Relatable, even.

“I am the same,” Akutagawa said. “That’s the reason for my working so hard to become the best detective. For Gin.”

“Gin?”

“My sister.”

“Oh.”

Atsushi’s breath was growing heavier now, his lungs trying to compensate for the blood loss.

“Why do you resort to such measures?” Akutagawa pushed. “There are honest jobs in which your skills could be utilized.”

“We were orphans, and desperate. Now, there’s someone I owe a debt to, so I can’t leave. Don’t you understand?”

“Not particularly,” he said. “I would never allow myself to become vulnerable enough to be taken in by a gang of criminals.”

Atsushi huffed out a laugh. “Is that so?”

“Of course.”

“Then you’re a stronger person than me.”

For some reason, Akutagawa didn’t believe that. Atsushi blinked rapidly, trying to shake himself out of whatever dizziness he was falling under. His hat was askew — Akutagawa reached up and fixed it.

Looking at him now, Akutagawa wanted to make a very, very stupid decision. One that could get him kicked from the agency. One that had the potential to ruin his career for life.

This could all be an elaborate lie, he told himself. Atsushi could be making all of this up to generate sympathy.

However, despite what the logical part of his brain was telling him, he couldn’t bring himself to accept that he was lying. Atsushi’s eyes were so honest, so warm whenever they looked at him. They shone more radiant and genuine than any of the precious stones he had ever stolen.

Damn it. He was going to regret this.

“Get out of here, you fool.”

Atsushi’s head snapped up, jaw agape. “W-what?”

“Just go before I change my mind.”

The way Atsushi looked at him then could only be described as intense. Akutagawa was forced to turn his head away, face burning hot.

“Thank you, Ryuu.” He whispered the name like a prayer. “Thank you.”

“Whatever,” Akutagawa muttered.

With some difficulty, Atsushi hauled himself up. He stumbled away down the path, his boots catching on the cobblestone as he went.

Akutagawa had expected not to hear anything from Atsushi for a while after that. This expectation was proven wrong a week later, when a letter appeared on his office desk. He asked Higuchi if they had received any mail addressed to him this afternoon. She shook her head. Hmm.

If this hadn’t been posted to him, there was only one person who could’ve managed to get it into his office without going through Higuchi first.

Akutagawa pounced on the envelope like a man starving. Tearing open the paper, he was greeted with two words.

Yokohama Museum

He blinked. He turned the page over. There was nothing else written on either side.

It must be referring to the art museum, Akutagawa thought. If there was no date, does that mean he was going today? It must. He wouldn’t strike in broad daylight, either.

Yokohama Museum of Art. Tonight.

Akutagawa let out a shaky breath. The game was back on. He could put an end to all of this tonight, for real this time. He would capture Atsushi on fair and equal terms and the biggest case of his career would be closed.

Now that he had plans for the evening, he felt unable to do anything else. His paperwork would have to wait. The hours flew by as he paced the office, antsy.

When it was finally time to go, he leaped up from his chair, vibrating with energy. He scoured his office at least twenty times over, making sure he didn’t forget anything. He hadn’t. His belt was equipped with his phone, taser, handcuffs and torch. No more embarrassing mistakes would be made.

Higuchi insisted on coming with him. Akutagawa had resisted at first, but she held no punches reminding him of the street light incident. He agreed, albeit reluctantly, to her company.

Upon their arrival, the museum was silent and dark, having closed for the day hours before. Akutagawa’s shoes echoed through the building as he patrolled the area, the click of Higuchi’s lighter step behind him.

He stopped. He could hear nothing but the sound of his own breathing.

Everything was still. Suddenly, it wasn’t.

A black shape flew past them, ducking behind a display. Akutagawa turned, shining his torch in that direction. He nodded to Higuchi who nodded back, before making her way around the opposite side of the stand.

They’d caught him. With both sides blocked, there was no way Atsushi could escape. Akutagawa could practically hear the agency’s congratulatory fanfare already.

Unfortunately for his daydreams of grandeur, the phantom thief had other plans.

Higuchi cried out in surprise. Atsushi twisted and launched himself through the space between her knees with one arm, the other holding his hat. He landed behind her with a roll and maneuvered around, passing Akutagawa. Akutagawa did not miss the shameless wink he gave him as he did so.

Atsushi weaved between the displays, his pockets stuffed with valuables and a pearl necklace adorning his neck. Higuchi was motionless, still trying to decipher what had just happened. Akutagawa scowled.

“Move,” he hissed, pointing at their escaping target. She floundered for a moment before giving chase.

They raced through the rooms after him, but Atsushi was as acrobatic as ever. He must have recovered from last week’s injury well, seemingly having no trouble using both arms to support his weight as he traversed the space. Neither Higuchi nor Akutagawa had any luck catching up with him until they made their way into one final room. An open window lay at the far end. That must be how he got in, Akutagawa thought.

They would lose him at this rate. He had to take a risk.

There was a shortcut. He could make it to Atsushi in time if he went directly over the low display, instead of following the more scenic intended route of the room.

Akutagawa pulled himself up onto the display without issue. Good, he had nearly done it. All he had to do was climb his way over to the last section of the exhibit and he would be able to cut off Atsushi’s escape.

Taking a breath, he jumped.

For a moment, it felt as though everything was moving in slow motion. The next, everything sped up too fast. His foot hit the side of the display and twisted. Akutagawa grunted in pain.

He landed harshly on the glass. It shattered, sending shards into his shoulder. Shit.

Following the collision, he rolled onto the floor with a hiss. His shoulder throbbed, but he couldn’t give up now. This was too important. Gritting his teeth, he dragged himself back onto his knees. A cough wracked his body.

The rapid footsteps they had been chasing faltered. Atsushi was hesitating, his eyes flicking between the window and Akutagawa. His face was loaded with concern.

Before Akutagawa could think too hard about that, Higuchi was at his side. She hauled him up with one arm, the other flying to her gun. Whipping it from her belt, she pointed it directly at Atsushi’s head.

Atsushi’s eyes widened. Akutagawa’s did too.

Her finger tightened on the trigger.

Akutagawa’s hand shot out, grabbing the barrel and wrenching it away. He gasped at the sting in his palm as it fired. The bullet embedded itself in a nearby wall. 

“Sir?!” Higuchi spluttered.

Atsushi’s expression was unreadable. Without a word, he vaulted onto the windowsill and threw himself out into the night.

Akutagawa sagged against Higuchi’s side. She fumbled, dropping the gun, forced to use both hands to prop him up. Her mouth was open, a mountain of questions waiting on her tongue. Akutagawa waved her off.

“The glass,” he strained out.

“R-right!” she panicked, setting him down on the floor and gently pulling the fabric of his coat away from the skin of his arm.

Thankfully, the wounds were mostly superficial. Higuchi was able to wrap his shoulder with bandages she pinched from an emergency first aid kit at the museum’s front desk. Throughout her ministrations, Akutagawa’s eyes remained fixed on the full moon shining through the open window.

Higuchi sat on her knees beside him once she had finished. She didn’t speak.

Akutagawa broke the silence. “Do you think I made a mistake?”

Higuchi swallowed. “I think you were kind, sir.”

He hummed. They sat there for a while longer. His question remained unanswered.

After his catastrophic failure in capturing Atsushi, Akutagawa was left with even more mountains of paperwork on top of the pile he had already procrastinated. Explaining the situation to the boss had been difficult but, to his gratitude, Higuchi had been loyal enough to not rat him out regarding his protection of Atsushi’s life. He decided to be a little less tough on her for the foreseeable future.

A week had gone by and Akutagawa spent almost every day of it holed up in his office, working overtime as a self-inflicted punishment for his defeat. Today was one such day.

It was two in the morning and everyone else in the building had headed home. Akutagawa was doing paperwork.

Signing his name at the bottom of the report he was working on, his stomach was hit with a pang of hunger. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast the previous morning, the situation with Atsushi last week having robbed his appetite. Buying food crossed his mind, but the convenience store on this street was not 24-hour and would be closed by now.

Though, he was pretty sure it had a vending machine outside. That would have to do.

Akutagawa made his way down to the ground floor of the agency building and then out onto the chilly street. He shivered. Why hadn't he brought his coat?

He crossed the empty road and wandered over to the vending machine outside the convenience store. His options were limited — it evidently had not been restocked for quite some time. Looking over the shelves, he settled on a bag of potato chips. He slotted some coins into the machine and selected his choice.

The machine began releasing his snack. It froze.

Seriously?

The bag was trapped between the shelf and the glass. Akutagawa glowered at it, willing it to fall. The chips were unfazed by his hostility.

He ran a hand through his hair with a groan, digging in his pocket for more coins to buy something else and knock them down, when there was a loud bang. Akutagawa jumped.

A gloved hand had smacked against the side of the machine, causing the chips to fall down into the compartment below. Akutagawa followed the arm the hand was attached to and was met with a familiar face. His throat closed up.

“Hey,” Atsushi said.

Apart from his usual fingerless gloves, he was dressed casually, wearing black pants and a white hoodie. The hoodie had black strings, Akutagawa noted. He blamed the detective in him for taking note of such a meaningless detail.

“What are you doing here?” he had intended to hiss, but it came out as more of a croak.

“I think we need to talk.”

“We have nothing to talk about.”

“I think we do,” Atsushi leaned against the side of the vending machine, watching him with eyes that Akutagawa didn't dare to call soft. Akutagawa reached down and pulled his potato chips from the drawer.

“You think too much,” he said as he opened the bag.

“Right?" Atsushi jested. "Maybe I’d be a better detective than you, in another life."

“As if,” he grumbled, before biting down on a chip.

A silence settled upon them as he ate. He could feel Atsushi’s gaze lingering on him and purposely did not meet it. He distracted himself by reading the ingredients on the back of the bag.

“Thank you,” Atsushi said after a moment. Akutagawa didn’t have to ask what he was referring to.

“Don’t,” he replied, icy. Atsushi’s mouth snapped shut. Feeling a touch of guilt, Akutagawa offered him the chips. When the bag was empty, he tossed it into a nearby trash can.

“Ryuu,” Atsushi began again, before biting his tongue.

Akutagawa glanced at him from the corner of his eye, prompting him to continue. A small smile crept onto Atsushi’s lips.

“You don’t yell at me for calling you that anymore.”

“Would it make any difference if I did?”

“No,” Atsushi said, now smiling fully. “Not unless you were really mad about it.”

Akutagawa snorted.

“And you aren’t actually mad about it, are you?” Atsushi’s eyes were doing that repulsive sparkly thing.

“I have no idea how you have reached that conclusion.” 

Atsushi chuckled, folding his arms. Then, his face grew serious.

“You saved me again.”

There it is. Akutagawa sighed.

“My actions are not as unfathomable as you seem to regard them. I simply do not believe you deserve death as a non-violent criminal,” he explained.

“I’m not just talking about last week,” Atsushi insisted. “You let me go, before that.”

“A brief lapse in judgment.”

As those words left his mouth, Akutagawa realized that the thought of arresting Atsushi hadn’t crossed his mind even once since his arrival. Maybe that lapse in judgement wasn’t so brief.

“Was it?” Atsushi pressed, clearly thinking similar thoughts.

“What else would it be?”

“Well.” He moved to stand in front of him, trapping Akutagawa between himself and the vending machine. “I think I know what else.”

“Whatever you are thinking is no doubt foolish and incorrect.”

Atsushi was undeterred. “I think it’s because you like me.”

Akutagawa’s face bloomed red. He coughed into his hand.

“Foolish and incorrect, as expected. I would never hold any kind of positive feelings towards a rogue such as yourself.”

“I heard,” Atsushi said, taking a step towards him, “that you’ve never failed in catching a single criminal. That you’ve closed every case you’ve ever been hired for, no matter the circumstances.”

“So?”

“Every case except one. Now I wonder,” Atsushi took another step. “Who is the exception?”

“There are no exceptions,” Akutagawa snapped.

“I’m the exception,” Atsushi declared, ignoring him. “It’s hard to believe a guy like you would ever put your job at risk for anyone, let alone a criminal. So why?”

Akutagawa hated him. He hated the way Atsushi spoke like he knew everything. He hated his constant quips, constant smiles, that constant twinkle in his eye. He hated Atsushi’s stupid oxymoronic outfit. He hated his stupid long belt. He hated his agility and his strength. He hated his honesty, his good heart and his tragic little backstory.

Most of all, Akutagawa hated that no matter how much he hated Atsushi, he knew he would never be able to bring himself to capture him.

So he grabbed those black hoodie strings — that stupid, meaningless detail — and crashed their mouths together.

Atsushi melted into the kiss at once, walking him backwards until Akutagawa’s back hit the vending machine. His spine didn’t hurt, this time. It was a lot more comfortable than the street light.

There was a familiar buzzing in Akutagawa’s body. Finally, he was able to solve that particular mystery. It was the feeling of his own racing pulse. His fluttering heart paired with the hum of the machine behind him made his head spin.

Atsushi’s lips moved insistently against his. The corners of his mouth were tilted up a very small fraction — even now, the fool was still smiling. Akutagawa wanted to be mad about it. He really wished he was.

Tonight, he had forgotten his coat and Atsushi was out of his costume. In this tiny pocket of time, they weren’t a master thief and an ace detective. They were just two regular people who shared a bag of chips at two in the morning outside a closed convenience store.

Realistically, Atsushi was still the phantom thief who had never been caught. Akutagawa was still Yokohama’s best private detective, chasing after the city’s most wanted man to maintain his perfect record. But pressed against him now, Akutagawa wondered if they had both reached their goals in the end. He had Atsushi captured in his arms at this very moment. And Atsushi had stolen him right back, in a sense.

As if noticing his wandering thoughts, a pair of hands rose to cradle his face. Atsushi’s palms had held many treasures. The gentle way they curled around Akutagawa's jaw now made him wonder if Atsushi believed he was holding one at this very moment.

Thumbs stroked Akutagawa's cheeks and he sighed out through his nose.

Alright, he conceded with a huff, memories of an old conversation returning to him. Maybe there is a thing.