Work Text:
Ranpo, against his better judgement, decides to brave the train on his own. He'd have taken someone with him as he usually does, but the less people know about his gift for Fukuzawa the smaller the chance is of them accidentally letting it slip to him and ruining Ranpo's surprise. And maybe that's a little paranoid of him, but the one person he knows wouldn't slip up, either on purpose or by accident, is Yosano, and she's too busy getting Kunikida back to health after the blow to his head he got on their last job - which was absolutely not Ranpo's fault.
So yeah, he's alone on the train, and all is well and good if he ignores the part where the train is heading in the opposite direction it should've been, since he definitely got on the wrong one, and Mr. Fancy Hat is sitting in front of him, all slouched and casual, mouth half open and head tilted back, totally knocked out.
It's surprising. Ranpo never imagined Mafia people would just sit around in public transportation with their guard completely down, especially one of the strongest executives of the Port Mafia. But on the other hand, maybe that's just a sign of how confident he is in his abilities - anyone who knows who Nakahara is would have to be stupid to try and attack him.
"You're staring," Nakahara says as if on cue, half suppressing a yawn. He pulls the hat covering the upper half of his face onto his head and blinks bleary eyes at Ranpo. "Ah," he says, eyes lighting up with recognition. "Detective."
Ranpo grins, hiding his surprise at being addressed. "That rings nicely, say it again~"
Nakahara slowly sits up properly and squints at him. "Huh?"
"De-tec-tive," Ranpo sounds out. "No one ever calls me that."
Nakahara frowns and scratches his cheek. "I thought you were one?"
"I am." Ranpo nods. "It's just everyone just calls me by name."
"Ha, is that so..." Nakahara looks out the window with hooded eyes, already losing interest in their short conversation. "Uh?!" His head snaps back towards Ranpo, eyes wide. "I'm on the wrong train!"
Ranpo nods. "Yes, we both are."
Nakahara's eye twitches. "How could you have possibly known- no, forget that, why didn't you say anything?!"
"You were sleeping so nicely, though." He tilts his head. "Besides, we're not exactly friends, are we?"
Nakahara grumbles something under his breath and crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back against his seat with a sigh. "Fine, whatever, I'll just get off at the next stop." He starts shifting, getting comfortable, and closes his eyes again, presumably ready to go back to sleep.
"Hey," Ranpo says. "Hey, Mr. Fancy Hat."
Nakahara opens one eye, visibly annoyed. "What."
"You'll know which train to take to get back to Yokohama?"
"Of course," Nakahara says, eyebrows furrowed. "It won't take a genius to figure it out."
Ranpo only hums in response.
Nakahara raises a suspicious eyebrow. "Why?"
"I'll tag along."
"You'll what?"
Ranpo taps a finger to his ear. "Having hearing issues, are we?"
"Who said you could tag along?" Nakahara says, suddenly angry - and ah, there he is, the guy Dazai is always complaining about.
"So you did hear it," Ranpo says, ignoring him.
"You're not listening!"
"I just need you to take me back to the area around the agency," he continues, because, well, it's not that big of a request, is it? His friends do it all the time, it can't be that big of a chore.
"And why the hell would I do that?"
Ranpo tilts his head. "Because you find me attractive and don't want anyone else to know?"
Nakahara's face goes blank for a moment, and then, as quick as the drop of a needle, his cheeks turn a shade darker. "What?!" He jumps up from his seat and plants his foot on the headrest of Ranpo's seat, right next to his head. "What did you just say to me, asshole?!"
Ranpo eyes the way his pants stretch across his crotch and grins. "Those sure are tight, huh." His eyes follow the length of Nakahara's leg up to his foot. "Flexible."
Nakahara drops his leg back to the ground and angrily stares at him. "I'm not attracted to you."
"It's alright, you don't have to lie, I can tell by your body language." Ranpo shrugs. "I'm conventionally attractive, Yosano said so."
Nakahara squints at him, unsure, and then slumps back against his seat, the fight running out of him. "You're exhausting, I can't believe I'm actually feeling sorry for that bastard Dazai right now."
"I'll have you know I'm a perfectly nice coworker. Everyone loves me!" Ranpo scoffs.
"You sure that's not just because you're the backbone of the agency?" Nakahara raises an eyebrow.
"Well," Ranpo frowns. "I am the best detective." He narrows his eyes. "Are you implying I'm only liked because I close cases?"
Nakahara rolls his eyes. "It wasn't that deep of a comment. I just think you're annoying."
"I grow on people!" Ranpo says around a scowl. Nakahara snorts, the nerve on the guy. If he weren't half as terrifying as he is Ranpo might have said something that hit deeper - but he is, so Ranpo keeps quiet on anything that might end with him getting squashed to the floor of the train. "Say, where were you going, if you'd gotten on the right train?"
"None of your business."
"I mean, I already know, I only asked for the sake of making conversation," he sighs, "which you clearly don't want to do right now. Want me to tell you where you were going?"
"Why the hell would I want that? I already know where I was going."
"Bo-ring," Ranpo sings, looking out the window. He wonders if anyone at the agency has noticed he's gone yet? He hasn't received any calls, and he did ask Fukuzawa for the day off last night so maybe he already told the others about it. Guess that means no one will find his body for days if Nakahara has a change of heart and decides to kill him. Bummer.
"Where were you going?"
Ranpo looks at Nakahara, who's staring at him with curiosity badly disguised as boredom. He considers his question for a moment. It doesn't seem like a fair trade considering Nakahara didn't answer his own, but on the other hand, Nakahara actually willingly asked a question, which is not at all what Ranpo expected him to do, and, ah, Ranpo already knows he was just out to buy wine so it's kind of a moot point.
"I'm buying a present."
Nakahara stares out the window again. "I see." Ranpo watches as his throat bobs when he swallows. "Well, good luck with that."
"Don't act like it doesn't concern you, you're coming too."
Nakahara looks back at him, eyebrows furrowed. "The hell I am!"
"Didn't you say you'd take me back to Yokohama? I was planning on going to a store further out but there's one close to the agency so I guess I'll just go to that one now. I don't really know how to get there though, so you're taking me."
Nakahara narrows his eyes. "I didn't agree to that! And why the fuck should I care if you don't know how to get around?" He eyes Ranpo up and down. "You're older than me. My info can't have been wrong about that." He scowls. "How the hell do you not know how to find your way around the city?"
"You'll take me, yes?" Ranpo says, ignoring his question. He knows he looks younger than he is, but so does Nakahara, so he ought to know it's hypocritical of him to ask Ranpo that. "Or I'll tell Dazai you like me~"
"The-?!" Nakahara gets up from his seat and leans over Ranpo, his face moving in so close that Ranpo can almost count his eyelashes. "I don't like you, Edogawa," he growls.
Ranpo freezes in place, suddenly unsure on how to react. He can feel heat climbing up the back of his neck - and really, it's embarrassing that he's reduced to this just because the guy said his name. It's unusual, because Ranpo's never been the sort to care about whether or not people use his name to address him. He tries to regain composure, clearing his throat. "I think you do, Nakahara," he says, letting his voice drop an octave lower. He tries to put on the inflection Dazai usually uses, for the sake of being annoying, but it comes out breathless instead. He'd be disappointed at his own lack of skill at Dazai impersonation if not for the way Nakahara's eyes widen and his cheeks bloom red.
He moves back up and away from Ranpo, a conflicted look on his face. "You're messing with me." Not a question.
"Any other day I probably would, but I really just need you to show me the way to the store."
Nakahara adjusts his hat on his head, frowning. He pauses for a moment, eyes scanning the empty seats around them, and then, the tension on his shoulders drops and he asks, "Okay, what store?"
Ranpo grins and thinks, and thinks, and thinks - and realizes he doesn't actually know the store's name. He knows what it looks like, is sure he'll recognize it once he sees the display window, but now that Nakahara is asking him for a name he has nothing to give but a shrug.
"You don't know?" Nakahara asks, incredulous.
"I'll know the store once I see it!"
"That doesn't help at all," Nakahara shuts his eyes tight. "What does it sell?"
"It sells yukatas."
"You're buying a yukata?" He asks, eyes raking over Ranpo's body.
"Not for me," Ranpo clarifies, feeling his heart skip a beat against his will. What the actual fuck. "I said it was a gift, remember?"
Nakahara averts his gaze. "Well, whatever, it's useless if you don't even know its name." He tilts his head at Ranpo. "Guess you'll have to buy it some other day."
"It has to be today."
"What, seriously? You left it to the last minute?"
"No, but I can't keep taking days off from work or they'll get suspicious," Ranpo says.
Nakahara runs a hand over his forehead and lets out a defeated sigh. "Okay, whatever, you sure you'll recognize it if you see it?"
"Positive!"
And Nakahara doesn't seem to trust his word at all, which, rude! , but he still gets off at the next stop and looks back at Ranpo expectantly, waiting for him to follow, so Ranpo takes that as a win.
--
"You're sure it's somewhere near the agency?" Nakahara asks, both skeptical and annoyed.
They've been looking for the shop for close to fifteen minutes, and even Ranpo and his motivation to get a pleased smile from Fukuzawa are starting to wilt under the undeniable reality that Yokohama is pretty big, and his idea of 'near the agency' isn't quite as accurate as he'd first thought.
"I don't know, but it didn't take us long to pass by it last time, so it should've been around here," he says, uncertainty slipping into his voice as he looks around and doesn't see anything similar to the store he's thinking of.
"Does it have to be that store in specific? Can't we just go to another yukata store and be done with this?" Nakahara asks around a tired sigh. His eyebrows are furrowed, like he's angry, but he's yet to direct this anger at Ranpo, which means he's either that scared of having Dazai find out he's attracted to one of his coworkers, or his temper isn't actually all that it's made out to be when he's outside of stressful situations.
"I was sure it was around here," Ranpo says, lips pulling down into a pout.
"You're so high-maintenance," Nakahara groans, turning around and walking down one of the streets they've yet to check. Ranpo would take offense to it if he weren't already used to hearing that kind of stuff from his own coworkers, though their voices are usually filled with fondness rather than the utterly done feeling Nakahara is currently giving off.
He follows after Nakahara, hands digging into his pockets and eyes roaming over the store signs for anything familiar. Technically, they're all somewhat familiar, because he's used to passing by them on his way to cases whenever he leaves the agency; but they never really catch his attention unless they sell food or any kind of entertainment he might be interested in at that moment, so his memory of them is hazy at best.
"Detective!" He hears from down the street, and looks away from a distinctly obnoxious display window to see Nakahara waving him over with the air of someone who's finally about to be rid of a particularly annoying task.
Ranpo doesn't quicken his pace, grinning at the way Nakahara grits his teeth in annoyance. "What is it?"
"Your fucking store, is what it is!" Nakahara says.
Ranpo does quicken his pace then. He reaches Nakahara and looks up at the display window he’s pointing at, and sure enough, it is the store. The bright pink display lights hurt his eyes, but they’re undeniably recognizable, especially with the golden stitched yukata set up underneath them. Despite all the times his brain had screamed at him in that little Fukuzawa voice - telling him that he was always 2 seconds away from getting squashed to the ground every time he opened his mouth - bringing Nakahara along turned out to be a good idea, after all.
“C’mon,” he says, grabbing Nakahara by the elbow and pulling him along with him into the store.
The interior is less flashy than the store front plays itself off as, which is a good thing in Ranpo’s opinion. The last thing he wants is to end up buying some gaudy yukata for Fuzukawa and risk actually having to see him walk around wearing it in a misguided attempt to spare Ranpo’s feelings.
“What,” Nakahara says, also looking around, “do you expect me to help you pick the actual thing?”
Ranpo looks at him blankly. “I know you pull off your clothes amazingly well but I don’t think you’d be very good at picking clothes for other people, so that’s a no.”
“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean,” Nakahara asks, face red, looking down at his outfit in angry confusion.
Ranpo raises an eyebrow. “You know what it means, I was very articulate.”
“Are you saying I dress badly?” And he actually sounds offended, for some reason.
“Well, not necessarily,” Ranpo gestures vaguely, mulling the words over before continuing, “I’m saying your particular style of dressing wouldn’t suit most people. You’re just unbelievably attractive, so everything suits you.”
A strange look falls over Nakahara’s face. “You should be crowned king of backhanded compliments.”
Ranpo tilts his head. “What? That wasn’t a compliment, I was just stating a fact. Do I look like the kind of person that just goes around complimenting people?”
Nakahara looks like he’s struggling now, his face going through a wide range of emotions before settling on frustration. “I really do not understand you. You’re almost worse than Dazai, I swear.”
“Hey, that’s rude, I’ve been told I’m much less annoying!”
“Just,” Nakahara sighs, bringing his fingers to pinch at the bridge of his nose, “let’s just get the yukata and be done with it, okay?”
“Ah, right,” Ranpo says, remembering himself. He looks around at all the mannequins dressed up with all kinds of colorful yukatas. “Sacho would probably like something with a plain pattern, nothing too eye-catching.”
They walk further into the store, Ranpo running his hands over several of the pieces on display to check the softness of the material. They all look great, really, and he’d probably buy one of the brighter ones for Kenji or Atsushi if it were their birthday, but this is Fukuzawa he’s buying for, and he needs a good serious looking yukata to go with his cool and serious aura - Ranpo couldn’t bear to be the reason Fukuzawa stopped being taken seriously.
“Hmm, I don’t see anything,” he mumbles, glancing at the vaguely familiar clerk anxiously watching them from behind the register. “Excuse me,” he yells over to him, “where are the plainer patterns? With muted colors and the like?”
The clerk jumps in surprise, clearly not having expected them to address him. “Ah, yes,” he walks around the register and over to them, his steps quick but unsteady. “R-right this way, sir,” he gestures to the back of the store.
Ranpo exchanges a look with Nakahara, who frowns but remains silent as they follow after the man. Ranpo thinks he’s still offended over the assumed insult of his fashion sense.
The back of the store isn’t much different from the rest, except instead of bright crazy patterned yukatas, the ones here are the exact kind Ranpo had been hoping to find when he walked in. Blue, beige, red, green, pink. Stripes down the sleeve, dots on the collar, simple little patterns that would suit Fukuzawa the best.
The clerk steps back and lets them inspect the pieces folded down on the tables, eyes tracking their every move like a nervous bird watching a cat walk along the edge of its territory. Ranpo isn’t worried about his strange behavior, it’s hard to be when he’s got one of the strongest combat ability users in the city hanging around him, but he’s suddenly sure of where he knows the man from, and the knowledge brings with it the realization that his nervousness is caused by Ranpo himself and not Nakahara, which had been what he’d first assumed, as one would naturally be scared of a Mafia member if he recognized him. This man doesn’t know who Nakahara is or has any idea what kind of threat he poses to him - his eyes are fixed on Ranpo and Ranpo alone. Nervous little eyes, sweaty fidgety hands.
Ranpo sighs, annoyed, and turns to him. “What is it?” The man startles, looking behind him as if hoping that Ranpo is talking to someone else. “Have you been stealing money from the store? Selling their products on the side for a higher price? Or maybe...did you do something worse, something outside the store?” He watches the man’s eyes widen, like a mouse realizing he’s been caught inside a trap. “Come on, fess it up, I don’t have time for this and the way you’re squirming really isn’t helping you.”
“I-I don’t know what you’re t-talking about,” the man says, shaking his head as if to dispel Ranpo’s questions. “I haven’t done anything!”
“You recognized me from the case last week, didn’t you?” Ranpo says, seeing Nakahara move closer to him out the corner of his eye. “I remember you, you know? You were hanging around when I laid out my deduction.” He scowls. “You’re clearly hiding something and afraid I’ll find out what it is, which is a pity because I really wouldn’t have cared about whatever the hell it is you’re doing if you hadn’t been so annoyingly loud about it.”
The man’s eyes move from side to side, looking for some kind of escape route. Ranpo wouldn’t give chase if he tried to run, but he doesn’t know that, as it becomes obvious when instead of running off the way they came, the man takes out a pair of scissors from inside his work apron and runs at Ranpo with them, a choked scream leaving his mouth. He doesn’t get far, though, before Nakahara steps forward and slams a foot down on his head, causing him to fall to the ground, unconscious.
The nonchalant use of strength makes Ranpo’s mouth go dry.
“Great, now who’s gonna sell me the yukata?” he says, ignoring the way his heart has entered a skating competition in his chest.
“You’re worried about that ?” Nakahara asks, incredulously. “This guy just tried to kill you, you realize.”
“Of course,” Ranpo says, rolling his shoulders and bending down to pick up the dropped scissors. “Happens quite often, actually. Comes with the job, I guess.” He places the scissors over one of the yukatas folded on the table next to him.
“Oh, I get it now,” Nakahara says, and Ranpo looks at him questioningly until he continues, “I get why the agency has so many ability users. It’s for you.”
Ranpo laughs. “No. It’s true that the agency was created for my sake, but my coworkers aren’t glorified bodyguards, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Nakahara grumbles something under his breath and looks away. “Fine, I’m done trying to understand how that damned place works, then.”
“What am I supposed to do about my present, though?” Ranpo whines, grabbing the pale red yukata that had caught his eye the moment they walked into the back. “You could’ve broken an arm or something without actually making him pass out.”
Nakahara makes a face at him. “You’re fucking weird, shut up about the present. We can just take that shit and leave the money on the counter with a note or something.”
“That sounds illegal.”
“I’m literally in the Mafia, are you serious right now?”
“Hmm,” Ranpo looks down at the yukata in his hands. Fukuzawa wouldn’t approve, but technically they’d be paying for the full thing, and if he left a note tipping the owners off to their employee’s shadiness, they’d probably be more glad than upset over the less than legal transaction. “You have a point.”
“Great, glad that’s settled,” Nakahara says, clapping his hands in satisfaction. “Let’s get the hell out of this place.”
They leave the clerk where he’s lying on the ground and head for the front of the store, where Ranpo quickly writes up a note explaining the situation and leaves the money for the yukata under it. As an added measure, he turns the sign on the door to closed as they leave, just to avoid someone walking in and happening upon the money left on the counter.
“You were just fine with the idea of me breaking that guy’s arm just a moment ago, what’s so crazy about possibly accidentally stealing one piece of clothing?” Nakahara asks, after Ranpo has looked back over his shoulder for the third time to check that no one is heading towards the store.
“It’s a family owned small business, you don’t steal from good people,” Ranpo says, kicking a rock off the side of the sidewalk.
“Ah,” Nakahara says, voice low with understanding. He looks up at the cloudy sky above their heads and frowns. “It might rain soon, so we better hurry and get you back to the agency.”
“Hmm,” Ranpo looks at him, his long eyelashes, the sharp curve of his jaw, his soft looking lips.
He wouldn’t mind seeing Nakahara getting a little wet.
“Hey, you should come in, see the inside of the building. I know you’re curious about how we work.”
Nakahara scoffs. “Are you insane?” he says, disbelieving. “As if I’d step a foot in that place without being strictly ordered to.”
“Oh? Not even the housing side?”
Nakahara turns surprised eyes on him. “You guys live there?”
“Of course.”
“Of course, he says,” Nakahara grumbles under his breath. “How the hell would I have known?”
“So?”
“So what?”
Ranpo grins, swinging the bag in his hand from side to side. “Wanna check out my room?”
Nakahara lifts both eyebrows at that. “Wait…” he shakes his head, “is this some kind of invitation?”
“It is an invitation, I even worded it like one. Was it that confusing?” Ranpo asks, suddenly questioning Nakahara’s intelligence. He’s never seemed like a dumb guy, but sometimes appearances and power are deceiving.
“I meant,” Nakahara moves his fist in a circular motion, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean.
Ranpo cocks his head, for once not knowing where the misunderstanding is coming from. “What is it you’re not understanding, exactly?”
Nakahara lets out a loud growl and says, “Forget it, I think I legitimately hate you.”
Ranpo shrugs. “And? You haven’t answered my question yet.”
“Okay, sure, whatever!” Nakahara yells, throwing his hands up in visible frustration. “I’ll check out your room!”
Ranpo smiles. “Great!” He licks his lips. “You know I mean hook up, right?”
Nakahara looks at him incredulously. “What the fuck,” he whispers. “You’re impossible!”
Ranpo raises an eyebrow. “So you didn’t, huh.”
“I’ll fucking kill you, I swear to god!” And he does make Ranpo sink into the ground a little, the stones on the pavement giving out under his ability.
“Woah!” Ranpo yelps, swinging his arms around to try and catch his balance.
Nakahara quickly reigns in his temper and sighs. “My bad,” he says, roughly helping Ranpo pull his feet out of the holes formed on the concrete. “I really will kill you, though, you infuriating ass.”
“Just because you didn’t realize I was propositioning you? Misdirected anger isn’t healthy,” Ranpo tells him, hitting his shoes against the ground to shake off the cement dust.
“You-” Nakahara cuts himself off, taking a deep breath. “You know what? Forget it. Let’s just go.”
“But wait, does this mean you’re coming to my room or not?”
Nakahara, pissed off and apparently done with Ranpo’s bullshit, grabs him by the tie in one swift move and smashes their lips together. Their teeth clash, and it’s more painful than good, really - but Ranpo still grabs him by the shoulders and pulls him closer, swiping a tongue out over his bottom lip and delighting in the soft groan that comes out of him at the action. He can taste blood, metallic and heavy in his mouth, and he’s pretty sure it’s his own if the stinging on his lip is anything to go by. Of course kissing Nakahara would feel like this, of course his kisses sting as much as feel like a balm against Ranpo’s bruised lips. Of course.
They pull apart, leaving only enough time for a quick breath before they’re coming back together as roughly as before. Nakahara’s mouth is hot, and so are his gloved hands, pushing up and under Ranpo’s shirt, fingers digging into the soft flesh of his sides, hard enough to leave marks. Ranpo grabs a fistfull of Nakahara’s hair and pulls, just to see his reaction, and isn’t disappointed when Nakahara growls into his mouth and pushes into him, making him step back until he’s pressed against the wall of the building behind him. They stay like this for an undetermined amount of time, kissing and biting into each other’s mouths, hands exploring, bodies melting into one another.
The only annoying part, Ranpo thinks as he drags one hand down Nakahara’s neck and over his shoulder, feeling him shiver against his palm, is knowing I didn’t actually plan this myself.
END