Chapter Text
Looking back on it later, Rei remembers the days he spent with Akai in hiding with a kind of aching nostalgia. A span of days almost removed from time, from the universe around them, when they were caught up in each other’s lives in a way they never had been before.
But everything has an end.
For their quiet quarantine, it comes three days after Akai’s second treatment in a text from Vermouth: RUM wants you back in your café, waiter-san. Hope you’re up to it. He reads threat, not concern, in it. He’s escaped Gin’s cull but he’s still on dangerous footing, still only one mistake away from a bullet to the brain.
Roger that, he replies, and rises from the bed where he’s been reading the news on his phone to cross to his chair. The pain from his ribs is still white-hot and jagged, has been telling him for some days that the bones are broken, not bruised. But that’s no excuse. He sits down at the laptop and opens a new secure email to Kazami: What did you tell Poirot about me?
Then he turns to Akai. The taller man is standing at the window, his back to the room, smoking a cigarette out the half-open pane. The smoke is rising in gentle curls from the tip; Rei can only just smell it. He remembers the smell of cigarette smoke and bourbon from the old days, days when their relationship had been antagonistic but aching, and had ultimately settled into a much more boring platonic status. “Rum wants me back at Poirot,” he says. “Time to break camp.”
Akai turns, green eyes watchful. “I can’t return to the Kudou mansion. I’ve been watching the neighbourhood. There’s a house coming up for rent further down the street from the Professor. I’ve asked James to take it. It will mean a new disguise, of course.”
“Of course,” says Rei, irritated that he’s only now mentioning it. “And what then? Will you become a regular of Poirot? Do crosswords with Shiho and the Professor? Walk Edogawa Conan to school?”
Akai gives him an amused look. “None of those things, as you know perfectly well. I’ll keep my distance this time. But…”
Rei raises a casual eyebrow. “But?”
“But I expect I’ll still be seeing you. I’m not willing to let you go otherwise, Rei-kun.” His eyes are bright, vivid in their dedication. He stubs out his cigarette on the saucer acting as his ash tray and crosses his arms loosely over his chest. Rei stands and slowly walks over to him.
“And how will you be seeing me?” he asks, smiling toothily. “Will you be stealing in through my window like a thief? Waiting in my car? Accosting me on the subway?” He reaches out and feathers his hand through Akai’s dark hair, just as silky as he had imagined it would be years ago. Akai stares down at him, just the corners of his lips upturned.
“Is that what you want? A clandestine romance? Masks and lock-picks and handcuffs?” he asks, voice low and throaty; it makes Rei shiver. “Whispers in a dark room and the smell of beeswax and whiskey?” His mouth is close now, his breath warm on Rei’s cheek. His eyes are terribly green, the colour of jade, the colour of envy. Rei swallows.
“I want you in my arms, want your mouth on my skin, want you in me. Where and when – that doesn’t matter.” His breath is quickening; he almost thinks he can feel the heat radiating from Akai’s body, longs to press himself up against him. But he’s too fragile, too bruised and broken for embraces.
“I think that can be arranged,” replies Akai. He lifts Rei’s chin with his index finger and delicately leans down and kisses him – a sweet, tender, aching kiss. It makes Rei yearn, makes his heart throb and his body burn. He breaks away, glaring.
“Stop that, you bastard. Don’t taunt me.”
Akai smiles truly now, a gleam in his eye. “If you want it now, Rei-kun, just think how much more you’ll want it later,” he says, and brushes past Rei to empty out the ash tray into the trash.
“Asshole,” says Rei, but without heat.
***
They leave the next day. Kazami informs Rei that he told Azusa Rei’s grandmother was dying abroad and needed him to come urgently, and that he was without an international calling plan to keep in contact with Azusa. Rei texts her with his new phone to say he’s back in the country and ready to come back to work – wanting to come back to work is what he implies, as if she would be doing him a favour. International travel is expensive after all, and he’s just a waiter. Azusa arranges for him to come in starting the day after they leave the safe house.
Their departure almost, almost goes without a hitch. Akai cleans and Rei slowly packs away everything he brought and makes a note of the supplies that will need to be restocked for the clean-up crew. Rei is preparing himself for a clean break, for the knowledge that they’ll see each other again, that this isn’t goodbye but is instead see you. That the best thing he can do is walk out the door and not look back; hope for the best.
He’s got his back slung uncomfortably over his shoulder, Akai with his own duffle packed, the two of them in the entryway putting on their shoes. They do it silently, Rei donning his coat and unlocking the door without speaking. He’s actually out the door when Akai reaches out and pulls him back inside. “Aka – mmph,” he’s interrupted by the FBI agent sealing their lips together. There’s nothing tender about this kiss – it’s hard and aggressive, Akai’s hand catching the back of Rei’s head and turning it upwards.
This isn’t a taunt. This is raw need, raw hunger.
Raw agony.
When they break apart they’re both panting, Akai’s eyes hard. “I won’t lose you,” he says. “Not when I’ve just found you. So you’d better take care of yourself until we meet again. Don’t play Vermouth’s games, Rei. Just… take care.” For once he omits the diminutive suffix, his voice rough. Rei puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezes.
“I’ll be fine. Spend your worry on yourself, FBI. I’ll see you soon.”
***
In fact though, he’s not fine. Rei returns to his apartment to find that everything he owns has been gone through and much of it destroyed – anything potentially compromising, anything that bore any trace of his identity. His pictures, his books, his calendar, all gone. None of it was important, of course – he’s a NOC and any space he inhabits belongs to Amuro Tooru, not Furuya Rei – but it’s a stark reminder of the threat he continues to face.
The threat he now faces alone.
He sinks down onto his bed, the bed where Akai – as Rye, of course – first slept by his side. The sheets and duvet cover have been washed in bleach, still smell faintly of it. All traces of Rye – the tins of cat food, the litter box, the cat toy, are gone.
It’s just him.
Loneliness was never a problem before; his heart has always beat for Japan, always been sold lock, stock and barrel to his country. But now a second love has stolen in, and he finds that he’s suddenly no longer entirely the same as he was.
Something’s missing. He sighs, sets down his belongings, heads for the cupboard over the range. He needs a drink.
But of course, the whiskey is gone too.
***
Going back to Poirot is both terribly hard and ridiculously simple. One the one hand it’s incredibly difficult to simply revert to what he had been, to pretend that nothing happened while he was gone and that he’s in no way changed. And in fact it’s made if possible even more difficult by Azusa who believes him to be mourning his grandmother and is all soft apologies and tender inquiries after his needs.
On the other, working at the café is easy. Baking, brewing coffee, steaming drinks and serving customers. All lower-level brain functions. He can easily compartmentalize his pathetic angst while he slices ham sandwiches and pours out iced tea. If anything the physical aspect of the work is the most challenging, pulling down ingredients from high shelves and carrying out trays of food without wincing when his ribs protest volubly.
On his second day back Edogawa Conan and Haibara Ai come in with their friends for after-school snacks. They’re all shocked by his presence – “Azusa-san said you were on vacation, Amuro-san!” chirps Ayumi; “Did’ya go somewhere nice?” asks Genta, while behind them Azusa looks horrified.
He waves at her, then smiles and ushers them to their seats, making pleasant replies to their questions and telling them today’s specials. He doesn’t fail to pick up on the glare Ai sends his way; he grins innocently at her.
Afterwards when they’ve finished their drinks and sandwich platter, the real children depart with Ai while Edogawa Conan lags behind. The café is otherwise empty; no other customers currently and Azusa in the back stock-taking. “Is everything okay?” he asks. “With you? And… our friend?”
“Everything is fine. He’s finding himself a new life. He might keep himself a little more distant this time, but somehow I think you’ll recognize him when he reappears.”
“And you, Amuro-san?”
Rei blinks. “Me? Oh, fine as ever.”
“You look… sad. Just sometimes. When no one’s watching.”
Damn the boy, thinks Rei. But he answers with a smile. “I’m perfectly fine, Conan-kun. No concern necessary.
Conan looks up at him. “I thought maybe you were missing your pet,” he says quietly.
“I don’t have a pet,” replies Rei stiffly.
Conan nods. “Maybe that’s the problem. I hope you find one soon, Amuro-san.” And before Amuro can reply, he’s run out after the other children.
Azusa comes out of the back with a box of coffee filters in her hands. “Everything okay, Amuro-san?” she asks.
He turns a bright, easy smile on her. “Just fine, Azusa-san.”
***
The nights pass by slowly. He picks up his PSB work again, easing back into his other double-life more cautiously than he did at Poirot. By the end of his first week back though he’s running everything he did before he disappeared, in charge of his stable of agents as well as doing small jobs for Vermouth.
By the end of the second week he feels like he’s adjusting. Is recovering his suave silkiness, his effortless distance. His ribs are beginning to feel a bit better, his breathing easier.
By the end of the third week he starts to wonder. Wonder about Akai, about his promises, about their future together. There’s no word from the FBI agent, no texts to his cellphone or notes at his apartment, no suspicious lurkers in the café. He wonders whether Akai’s last-moment passion was a precursor to abandonment, a kind of guilt for his upcoming actions.
***
One month after his return to his old life, Rei is working in Poirot. It’s an afternoon shift on a Wednesday, late autumn sun pouring palely in through the front windows. There aren’t any customers; overhead Azusa has turned on some soft music. Something up-beat and poppy. American. Rei bites back his complaint; it’s nice to work to music occasionally.
Azusa has to run out to pick up a shipment from their supplier so Rei is alone in the store polishing the espresso machine’s chrome nozzles until they shine, occasionally shooting steam into his thick cloth, when the bell over the door rings. He looks up and sees a tall, lean man with long tousled hair tied back in a short tail and a pair of lightly purple-tinted glasses come in. He strides over to the counter, and in a bored voice asks for a tall iced coffee to go. Rei rings it up.
“I’ve just moved into this neighbourhood,” the customer says, digging in his wallet for a bill. “I wanted to visit your restaurant myself. I’m very interested in private detectives.”
“Oh?” says Rei. “We have a famous one living overhead.”
The stranger nods. “The Sleeping Kogorou. But I also heard he had an apprentice in this shop.”
Rei flashes him a look. His apprenticeship, while not a secret, is not widely known. “Yes,” he says. “I work part-time as his apprentice.”
“How fascinating. Murder and mayhem, cigarettes and scotch. Although I’ve always preferred bourbon myself.”
Rei’s heard gives a little leap. “Oh yes?” he says, nonchalantly.
“Once you’ve tasted it, you don’t want anything else,” he replies with a smile, and hands over a bill. Rei takes it and feels a piece of paper sliding under it. He slips it out and into the palm of his free hand while he puts the 1000 yen bill in the register and pulls out change.
“James Bond said it first,” Rei says, trying for unimpressed.
The customer smiles. “It still applies.”
“Where did you say you were living?” he asks.
“Oh, near here. Down the street from a large western-style mansion and a very whimsical house owned by a professor. It’s very convenient for my needs.”
“I imagine it would be,” replies Rei, heart racing now. “You –”
His customer takes the change and slips it into his pocket and takes the iced coffee. “Must be going. But I imagine I’ll be seeing you again.” As he turns, Rei can see that behind his tinted glasses his eyes are jade green.
He looks down hurriedly at the piece of paper that’s been slipped to him – it’s a cell phone number. “I imagine so,” says Rei quietly to himself, smiling.
***
He texts two simple words to the phone number: Where / when?
The answer is a hotel in the next ward over.
***
Rei shows up early but the room’s already occupied when he arrives. Akai Shuuichi is sitting on the single bed, a tousled wig and tinted glasses sitting on the chest of drawers. “You enjoy deception,” accuses Rei as he enters. Akai looks up, smiling.
“And you don’t?”
“You could have just told me who you were. No need for the song and dance.”
Akai stands and comes over to him. Reaches out and runs a finger down the long line of his jaw; Rei swallows. “Ah, but what if someone had been listening. And besides, now you know my face.”
“I always know you. You’ve never been able to hide yourself from me for long. Not even as a cat.” He reaches up and catches Akai’s hand. And, to Akai’s evident shock, inclines his head to kiss his knuckles. All his anxiety, his worries, his fears throb suddenly in his heart and he looks up with just his eyes. “I hope you intend to stay for a while, Akai. I’m tired of chasing you around all the time.” His voice is smooth, but he can still hear the uncertainty in it. The tiny catch of the words in his throat.
“I’m here to stay, Rei-kun. Whether with this face or another, I intend to stay.”
Rei presses his hand. “Good. Then you’d better kiss me and seal the deal.”
“I’m not sure that’s legally binding,” replies Akai wryly.
“It’s binding with me,” replies Rei. “So you’d better mean it.”
Akai slips his hand away and uses it to raise Rei’s chin. “I do,” he says simply. And, bending, he kisses Rei.
Live a life less ordinary,
Life a life extraordinary with me.
END