Work Text:
Except for the occasional flip of a page, silence consumes the office. The clock ticks on the wall, its voice lost a long time ago when Ranpo kept insisting Fukuzawa replace it. Not even his chair makes a noise when he leans back in it, its wheels smooth and its cushion noiseless. He almost wants to complain that it’s too quiet, but the man doing paperwork across from him would just raise a brow and point out that it was Ranpo’s requests that made the office the way it is now.
He fiddles with an empty candy wrapper in his hand, the crinkle satisfying under his fingers. He stares at it, watches as his fingers gently knead the wrapper into a ball. Then he picks it up, careful not to crush it, and admires it for a moment. It's a lifeless pink object, but if he aims it just right— His gaze flickers over to a mess of white hair.
Fukuzawa’s eyes are sunken, tired from overwork, and his brows crease in a way that proves to Ranpo that his mentor is going to get wrinkles. Fukuzawa isn’t looking at him, but that doesn’t mean he’s not paying attention. Ranpo can see the subtle tilt in the man’s head as he acknowledges Ranpo’s gaze. He doesn’t do that for just anyone. Then again, if people were ignored by Fukuzawa they would simply move on. Not Ranpo.
There’s no point in ignoring Ranpo, that’s a fact Fukuzawa learned the first day they met.
“I’m bored,” Ranpo says. His voice is loud in the quiet office, but remains the same octave it usually is.
“So it seems.” Fukuzawa doesn’t look up. He dips his pen into the inkwell on his right and continues signing his signature. His body language speaks more for him: ‘what do you want me to do about it?’ His exasperation is shown in the way his left pointer finger creases one of his pages.
Ranpo clicks his tongue. They have snacks in the back room, so he can’t drag Fukuzawa outside. They don’t have any clients today, so he can’t run around Yokohama solving easy crimes. Even little Yosano isn’t in right now, she’s taking the weekend off. With the agency as small as it is right now, he almost wants to tell Fukuzawa to find new recruits, but “stuff like that takes time.”
So he settles on his favorite pastime.
Fukuzawa ducks out of the way before Ranpo can throw the candy wrapper at him. His chair squeaks on its own, making Ranpo chuckle to himself. Then the white haired man finally looks his way. His blue eyes are as sharp as the katana he refuses to wield. There’s a restless past sleeping inside them, fitful and unwilling to breach the surface. No one other than Ranpo could possibly read the signs and understand Fukuzawa like he does.
Ranpo’s lips curl upward. ‘Play with me,’ he demands wordlessly. He spins his finger in the air, then to emphasize himself, Ranpo sits up in his chair and pushes it backward. Then he waits, watching for Fukuzawa’s reaction. The pink wrapper falls from his shoulder, having caught him despite aiming for Fukuzawa’s forehead, and settles on the floor. It’ll no doubt be run over by Fukuzawa’s chair before they pick it up later.
“If you want something to do, I have more paperwork.” Fukuzawa gestures to the stack of paper neatly under a stapler. ‘I’m busy, kid.’ He shakes his head, though there’s a fondness that overtakes the sad past in Fukuzawa’s eyes as he says it.
The Armed Detective Agency hasn’t been open long. Ranpo still remembers when Fukuzawa got the sponsorship to open it, and he still remembers when they went to Tokoyami Island to rescue Yosano like it was yesterday. However, it’s been long enough that Ranpo can pinpoint the change in how Fukuzawa acts around him. Of course the man wouldn’t admit such a thing out loud with his pride, but he must know that Ranpo knows. He doesn’t use ‘kid’ anymore when talking to Ranpo unless he’s trying to convince himself not to do something.
Unfortunately for Fukuzawa, Ranpo is the genius he’s decided to spoil for the rest of his life. “Lame,” Ranpo drags out the word as he stands. He tilts his head from one side to the other, letting his neck pop naturally before he raises his hands to stretch. He is slow and deliberate in his movements, looking away innocently and pretending that he doesn’t notice Fukuzawa watching him out of the corner of his eye. He lowers his arms with a hum before pulling out his glasses from his pocket.
“If I help you, what do I get?” He sets the trap in the same way one would move a chess piece slowly across the board. The king might not be in check just yet, but the impending demise is within his sights.
The king in question raises an eyebrow, searching for Ranpo’s ulterior motive. “What do you want?” Fukuzawa normally doesn’t take the bait so it seems he’s up for Ranpo’s little challenge tonight.
Ranpo grins like a cheshire and takes two steps until he’s around the table and standing over Fukuzawa’s shoulder. Fukuzawa’s eyes are his favorite shade of blue, he decides as he pushes Fukuzawa’s chair backward. “I want three things.” He does not elaborate. Why would he need to? The recognition is right there in Fukuzawa’s expression.
“I am not buying you more manga to read on the job.” The response is nearly instant. Like a pawn moving forward, Fukuzawa’s first line of defense crumbles just like that.
“Okay, then two things,” Ranpo amends easily. He puts a hand on Fukuzawa’s shoulder, waits a beat, and then his inpatient nature wins and he sits himself in Fukuzawa’s lap. He leans back against Fukuzawa’s chest and revels in the immediate tension between the two. “The first is I want a confession.”
“A confession of what?” Fukuzawa remains calm, though the strain in his voice is evident. He’s going to pretend this isn’t happening and that’s going to lead to him losing an important piece in the chess game. Not that it matters, he’ll always lose to his desire to spoil and indulge Ranpo— a fact that Ranpo always intends to exploit.
“Of what, indeed.” Ranpo whistles as he moves the stapler from one side of the desk to another. He picks up the stack of paperwork and sticks out his tongue at it as if it’d bite back at him. “I want you to admit that you can’t resist me.” He doesn’t need to look at Fukuzawa to know the man is turning red behind him. Ranpo scans over the first page in his hand, quickly deciding that it doesn’t need his boss’ seal and quickly putting it in the paper shredder next to Fukuzawa’s desk. Then he leans back against Fukuzawa, pressing his back against the man’s chest and tilting his head back to look up at the man.
Though he is often calm and reserved, Fukuzawa Yukichi is an extremely shy man. His cheeks burn an elegant shade of red, and his eyebrows twitch at having been caught red-handed. There’s a small possessive spark in Ranpo’s chest at the knowledge that no one else has ever seen the man like this. “I’ll reward you with candy if you confess,” he bribes cheerily.
“You’re a brat,” Fukuzawa responds. His eyes move around the room suddenly.
“Little Yosano isn’t here,” Ranpo answers before he can ask. “I gave her popcorn and a movie, so she’s busy.” It’s probably not right to preoccupy an eleven year old girl without adult supervision but then again, Ranpo isn’t an adult and the one adult they know is otherwise preoccupied with Ranpo. He’ll worry about the issues later. “So?”
When Fukuzawa’s hands move to grab Ranpo’s hips, a shiver runs down his spine. He’s fantasized about these hands many times and feeling him dig into his fabric is almost like a dream come true. Fukuzawa’s piece wins this turn. “Adults don’t have such ridiculous thoughts about kids,” Fukuzawa says.
He’s right, certainly, but… Ranpo bites his bottom lip, thinking. Normal adults are stupid and refuse to understand what's going on around them. Fukuzawa, at the very least, is the one adult who understands things quickly and realizes the same things that Ranpo realizes. The two of them have been on the same wavelength for as long as they’ve known one another, and Fukuzawa has always been obvious with his favoritism. Is that not the same thing as this?
No it’s not. But at the same time, Ranpo knows he’s not wrong in his knowledge that Fukuzawa feels something for him. “It’s not ridiculous,” he finally says. “It’s obvious to me.” He sets his jaw firmly, daring Fukuzawa to argue. The position is uncomfortable for his throat, but he won’t back down. “And besides, I won’t help you if you don’t give me a real answer.”
“You already shredded something,” Fukuzawa says. His hands remain on Ranpo’s hips, holding him steady as he pushes the chair forward until Ranpo’s between him and the desk. “I’ll give you an answer when you finish.”
Ah, so he’s trapped now. Ranpo wants to huff and throw the game now because it’s not going the way he wants. He’s supposed to get a checkmate and watch Fukuzawa fumble with his resolve. “You promise?” Because as confident in himself he is, Ranpo still selfishly wants to hear Fukuzawa say it.
“I promise.” One of Fukuzawa’s hands raises and ruffles Ranpo’s hair. “Help me finish and I’ll give you an answer.”
Ranpo quickly asks, “And my second thing?”
“And your second request.” Fukuzawa pushes Ranpo’s head forward with his other hand, massaging the middle of Ranpo’s neck comfortingly. Then his hand returns to Ranpo’s hip, and the other one picks his pen back up to get to work.
Something akin to an eternity passes by as they work. Ranpo’s head swirls as he focuses on Fukuzawa’s hand on him. He’s grateful the paperwork is easy: either sign it or trash it, because if it were anything else it would not get done. He’s so close to Fukuzawa that he can hear the man inhale whenever he’s reading a particularly inconvenient paper. Whenever he writes, his arm brushes against Ranpo’s side and Ranpo wonders if it's intentional. For once, he can’t tell.
Ranpo finishes first, signing out Fukuzawa’s signature like it's an easy forgery. He then slumps backward, uncaring of the way he jostles Fukuzawa. Fukuzawa’s silent reaction is to wrap his arm further around Ranpo’s torso and keep working. It almost feels like a blanket consuming him. Ranpo laughs to himself at the thought, closing his eyes and indulging in it.
Before he can interrupt Fukuzawa, the man speaks. His voice is as low as a fan spinning overhead. One cough and Ranpo would miss it. “You don’t have to resort to mind games to get a confession out of me, Ranpo.”
His name on Fukuzawa’s lips is liquid magma. It sets Ranpo’s whole body alight with the need to burn alive. His name has never felt so intimate. “I would rather you be forthright and selfish with me. Don’t you want this foolish adult to treat you less like a kid and more like an equal?”
He watches Fukuzawa sign out his signature for the umpteenth time, hanging onto the calligraphy like it's a lifeline. It’s beautiful and tame, much like the man himself. Even though he knows Fukuzawa’s name, it feels as though he no longer knows how to read. The characters in front of him blend together, forming a new language that somehow translates into a burning need to look at Fukuzawa.
So he does. Ranpo pushes himself out of Fukuzawa’s grasp, internally wishing the man held him tighter, and struggles to turn around. It takes a minute, the wheels scuffing against the ground and delightfully filling the air between them as Ranpo finally situates himself. Instead of straddling Fukuzawa, Ranpo sits on the desk, pen and inkwell pushed to the side, and he stares at Fukuzawa with wide eyes. “Then say it,” he demands once more.
“I desire you.”
Ranpo inhales slowly. He doesn’t understand the feeling that washes over him, but it leaves his heart throbbing and his cheeks flushing. Those words are too much. He knew without a doubt that Fukuzawa was into him, but the confession itself is too much.
A warm chuckle escapes Fukuzawa’s lips when he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t prod Ranpo for anything, he just reaches up and pats Ranpo’s thigh. He doesn’t keep his hand there. Ranpo wishes he did. “Happy now?”
With his throat convulsing in on itself? Absolutely not. Ranpo swallows dryly, trying to get his thoughts in order. “My second reward,” he forces out like he’s biting hard into a piece of candy. Despite his chest turning into mush, he won’t let Fukuzawa forget. He grabs Fukuzawa’s hand before he thinks, linking their fingers together.
“I’m listening.” Fukuzawa rubs his thumb over one of Ranpo’s knuckles. The action will forever sear itself into Ranpo’s memory as the start of something entirely too new to both of them.
He has to enact his final move and put Fukuzawa in checkmate. He needs to slide his piece forward and draw the game into a rightful conclusion, but his nerves are trying to eat themselves alive. Being a child in love with an adult is irritating. Ranpo vows to himself that Fukuzawa will forever remain the only one he wants from here on out. No one could ever match his wavelength, anyways. He exhales slowly, and flutters his eyelashes as though he’s no longer nervous. "Would you—.” He starts and stops. "If I told you to—.”
“Kiss me!” He finally demands, childish and greedy and refusing to take no for an answer. He pulls Fukuzawa’s hand forward roughly, attempting to drag the man closer, but it's a fruitless attempt.
Though, he doesn’t have to keep trying, because Fukuzawa stands up willingly. The next thing Ranpo knows, there’s a hand next to his head and his back is pressing fully into the desk. The overhead light shines down onto Fukuzawa like a halo. He’s hovering over Ranpo, gazing down at him with a lecherous look that would send him right to jail if anyone were to walk through the office doors. Ranpo wants Fukuzawa to always look at him like that, like he’s addicted to the sight of Ranpo. He’ll make sure to tell Fukuzawa that later.
Fukuzawa leans closer and pauses a breath away. “Good work today, Ranpo.” His hair cascades around the two of them when his lips finally meet Ranpo’s. It’s not rough. There’s no clash of teeth. It just is. Their lips rest against one another, fitting together like puzzle pieces, and when Fukuzawa pulls away there’s a smile on his lips that Ranpo’s never seen before. “Keep it up.”
It’s a tease.
Fukuzawa effectively put Ranpo in checkmate while he wasn’t looking.
Ranpo opens his mouth to protest only to stop when he catches Fukuzawa’s gaze. “More,” he pouts because he can. Who's to say that he won’t win the second match? When Fukuzawa laughs and grabs for him, Ranpo knows that he’ll be entertained for the rest of the night.