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It was a quiet evening—or at least, it started that way.
After wrapping up a major case, the team had gone out for drinks to celebrate at a cozy little bar.
A successful case, a well-earned celebration.
But Shima only had eyes for one person.
Ibuki.
His boyfriend just didn’t know when to stop. Shima had lost count of how many glasses Ibuki had downed, but his flushed cheeks, slurred speech, and completely unfiltered commentary made one thing clear—it was time to go home.
Shima thought so, too.
He guided him out of the bar, Ibuki’s arm slung over his shoulder, trying to keep him upright while awkwardly unlocking the door of his apartment.
God, Ibuki was heavy.
“Ah! The floor’s slipping, Shima!”
Ibuki clung tighter to Shima’s shoulder, his voice high and dramatic.
Shima sighed, adjusting his stance. “It’s not the floor. It’s you idiot.”
Ibuki gave him a dopey grin, eyes glassy and cheeks bright red.
“You’re really strong, huh? Dream boyfriend!”
Shima rolled his eyes, steering him toward the couch.
“I’m so lucky,” Ibuki slurred theatrically. “Do you even know how hot you are?”
Shima exhaled as he tried to balance him. “Yeah. You said it to our captain. Loudly. In front of six people.”
“He needed to know,” Ibuki insisted, swaying slightly. “You’re, like—dangerously hot. The kind of hot that ruins people’s standards for love.”
Shima kept a straight face, even as his own cheeks flushed.
“Sit down before you fall over.”
He lowered him onto the couch, where Ibuki immediately sprawled out like a starfish.
Shima pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering to himself about regretting every drink Ibuki accepted from their coworkers.
“I’m making coffee. Don’t move.”
Ibuki giggled as Shima headed to the kitchen.
“Oooh, taking care of me now? You really are the perfect boyfriend.”
Shima smiled faintly, filling the kettle with water. “Unfortunately, I know.”
“And,” Ibuki added with a mischievous grin, “you’re an amazing kisser. Come over here and prove it.”
Shima didn’t dignify that with a response, though his ears turned impossibly red.
When he returned with the coffee, Ibuki was still melting into the couch like a forgotten popsicle. Shima handed him the mug and tried to help him sit up.
“I don’t wanna drink.”
Shima stared at him in disbelief. “Seriously?”
Ibuki pouted like a child. “I need you to admit you’re head over heels in love with me and obsessed with my face.”
Shima sat beside him, trying—desperately—not to laugh.
“I’m not doing this with drunk-you.”
Ibuki leaned dramatically against his shoulder. “You think I don’t notice the way you look at my mouth when I talk?”
Shima coughed into his fist. Nope. He could not play this game.
“Or how you always have something urgent to do in the other room when I change shirts?”
Shima was blushing now. No question.
“Ibuki—”
“It’s okay,” Ibuki whispered, poking his cheek. “I think about you inappropriately all the time.”
Shima opened his mouth. Closed it. Then laughed—quietly, helplessly.
“You’re a menace.”
“I’m your menace.”
“Unfortunately accurate.”
Ibuki grinned wider. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”
“I’m not flustered,” Shima insisted.
“You so are.”
Shima shoved the coffee back into his hands. “Drink.”
“Will you kiss me if I do?”
“No.”
“If I don’t?”
Shima stood up. “I’m leaving.”
“Come baaaack,” Ibuki whined, giggling into his mug. “Your boyfriend is suffering. If you don’t kiss me, I’ll die.”
From the kitchen, Shima’s voice called out, muffled but affectionate.
“You’re lucky I love you.”
“I know!”
When Shima came back, Ibuki was lounging like a cat, fanning with his shirt and cheeks flushed.
“Shimaaa,” he purred lazily. “Do you know what would be amazing right now?”
Shima, who had just brought water and painkillers, narrowed his eyes. “I’m really afraid to ask.”
Ibuki caught his wrist gently. “You. Me. That bed. And some very bad decisions.”
Shima nearly dropped the glass.
“You’re drunk.”
“Is that a problem?”
“You can’t even sit up straight.”
“Exactly. You’d have all the power. So tragic.”
Shima laughed—short, breathless.
God, this man was shameless.
And beautiful.
And ridiculous.
His shirt slipping off one shoulder should not be allowed.
Still, Shima leaned in and cupped his cheek.
“Ask me again,” he murmured, “when you’re sober.”
Ibuki’s grin faltered. “You don’t want me?”
Shima’s voice dropped to a hush. “You have no idea how much I do. All the time.”
He pressed a soft kiss to his temple. “Which is exactly why I won’t take advantage of you when you’re three sips away from serenading the neighbors with 90s love songs.”
Ibuki groaned, flopping sideways. “You’re too noble. It’s sickening.”
Shima laughed and gently pulled him to his feet.
“Come on, Casanova. Time to bed.”
Ibuki leaned heavily into him, muttering into his shoulder.
“Love you.”
“I know.”
He dropped a sleepy kiss to Shima’s chin. “Still want you.”
Shima smiled. “Yeah. I know that too.”
“Gonna try again in the morning.”
Shima chuckled softly. “I’ll be waiting.”
He guided Ibuki to bed, pulled the blanket over him, and lingered—just watching.
Drunk or not. Ridiculous or not.
This was his person.
Ibuki groaned dramatically the next morning. His head throbbed, his throat was a desert, and the sunlight felt like a personal attack.
“Ugh. Just someone kill me! Why am I alive?”
From the kitchen came Shima’s calm, amused voice:
“You said you wanted to live long enough to seduce me properly this morning.”
Ibuki bolted upright, then immediately collapsed back onto the pillow, groaning.
“Oh no. I talked, didn’t I?”
“You performed,” Shima said, walking in with a glass of water and some toast.
“You’re exaggerating,” Ibuki muttered, face buried in the pillow.
Shima placed the plate on the nightstand. “Trust me, I’m not. It was honestly hard to stop you.”
Ibuki let out a dramatic sigh. “I’m an embarrassment. Burry me. No. Just cremate me. Scatter my ashes at the police station with a note that says, ‘He tried.’”
Shima chuckled and sat beside him, handing him the water. Ibuki took it like it was holy.
After a long drink, he looked up with bleary eyes.
“…You took care of me.”
“Of course.”
Ibuki grinned weakly. “Didn’t even get to seduce you properly.”
“At least you tried, Casanova.”
“Don’t call me that.” Ibuki groaned. “Did I almost succeed?”
Shima leaned in, kissing his forehead.
“You always do.”
Ibuki blinked, stunned into silence. Shima tucked the blanket around him.
“Now drink your water. Eat your toast. And please try not to throw up on my bed.”
Ibuki mumbled, “No promises.”