Chapter Text
Thanks to some guidance from a kind old lady, Ranpo was able to successfully navigate the maze of the subway system and streets, landing him right in front of the Guild’s headquarters. It looked so ridiculously out of place – it was a giant mechanical whale, after all – but it was strangely beautiful in some weird way. Ranpo clutched the letter a little tighter, not wanting the growing gusts of wind to blow it away. The remnants of the sunrise cast beautiful lights across the sky, a decently cloudy day, but no apparent threat of rain or storms. A good sign – right?
Ranpo had tried calling Poe again to see if he could get inside, but Poe didn’t pick up. Probably busy with a new story or plan, or maybe he’d simply just misplaced it again while it was silenced. Ranpo had neglected to get the office number of the Guild, so there was no way for him to call in and ask for entry. He knocked on the door, hearing footsteps approaching as a redheaded young lady opened it. “Oh. You’re Poe’s friend.”
“That I am~ the best detective in the world, at that!” Ranpo said with a smile, walking past her and into the space. The floorplan of the headquarters was unnecessarily complicated, but when enough people have enough money, that’s just what happens. It was so unlike the ADA, where everything happened in three rooms and a storage closet, it was almost funny.
“Do you need help finding his office-“ Lucy said as she turned to shut the door, but when she turned back, the detective had already disappeared. “Oh.”
Ranpo bounded down the hallways like a child on a sugar rush, peeking into every room with an open door. All of them had lavish furniture or boxes of documents, but no one was in there. He remembered Poe’s office was on one of the higher floors since he’d been there before – on a challenge, that he’d so easily beaten. That had been interesting, to say the least.
As the elevator doors opened, a ginger man with his shirt completely unbuttoned and two floating figures stood there, goggles on the top of his head. “...Right? That target practice was great!” Ranpo stepped into the elevator, and Twain took notice, immediately switching subjects with ease. “Oh, hey, you’re the detective from the Agency! Nice to see ya, man! Here to see Eddieboy?”
“Yeah,” Ranpo said offhandedly like it was obvious. He waved the piece of crumpled paper in front of him. “I got this weird letter from him.”
Strangely, that made Twain and half of his ability burst out in laughter. “Boy, did it work!” The smaller ginger said with a smirk, while the other looked completely unbothered.
“Did what work?” Ranpo said, tilting his head in confusion. The elevator bell sounded, and Mark started to step out, without answering Ranpo’s question.
“Have fun!” Mark said with a cheeky smile as he got off the elevator, leaving Ranpo alone. He leaned against the back wall, fidgeting with the paper, until the ding! signified he was on the correct floor. This time, there was no cryptic note on the door, and he heard pacing footsteps and Karl’s kyuns coming from inside.
Ranpo threw the door open, waltzing in like it was the Agency’s office. Poe tensed up and dropped the few papers he was holding in his surprise but ignored them once he realized who was at the door. “Oh... Ranpo. It’s nice to see you.”
“Yeah, you too, Edgar!” Ranpo said as he knelt to give Karl a pat on the head, switching his tone to something slightly serious. “However, I have reason to believe you’re a suspect in my most recent case.” Poe looked genuinely shocked, and Ranpo waved his hand and smiled. “I’m kidding. But seriously, it was weird. A folder of blank paper... and this.” He held up the letter, and Poe took it, eyes widening in surprise and scarlet appearing on his face as he realized what it was. The letter he'd written with Louisa’s help, spilling how he felt about the detective – that he’d ripped up and thrown away, crumpled up, never to be seen again, was somehow in his hands right now. The way it was taped together was messy, not controlled, and hastily smoothed out – looking like Twain’s shoddy handiwork.
“It’s about me, isn’t it?” Ranpo said, breaking the silence, and Poe stuttered.
“N-no! It’s... a passage from a story...” Poe said frantically, not looking at Ranpo. Ranpo hummed and opened his eyes, stepping closer to the other.
“I don’t think that’s a passable alibi,” Ranpo said in mock confusion. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have feelings for me. But what do I know?” he said with a playful shrug and a laugh.
“And so what if I did...” Poe mumbled, but Ranpo could hear it crystal-clear.
“Oh? Is that an admission of guilt?” Ranpo said with a smirk, and Poe didn’t reply, instead opting to take the letter and sit down at his desk, agonizing over it. He should’ve checked the contents, of course, it was Twain – why had he trusted Twain to give him a real folder? And now he was stuck in this predicament-
His anxious spiral was cut short by Ranpo clearing the space and sitting up on the desk, swinging his legs slightly to fidget. “Y’know, Edgar, it’s not so bad...”
“It’s awful !” Poe exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration. “It’s... it’s... just...” He felt his embarrassment and confusion creep up his spine until it reached his eyes, vision clouding as tears started to well up. Now was not the time, not in front of Ranpo, no, no, no . He turned away, trying not to choke up, as he forced the words out of his throat. “It’s just terrifying .”
“Edgar, we’ve fought literal terrorists.”
“This is different . It’s emotionally vulnerable. I’m not going to die, but I feel like I am, and there’s nothing I can do about it.” His heart was pounding in his chest. He wanted to be close to Ranpo and needed to hold him, but something was stopping him. So much stopping him, in fact – and the number one culprit was himself . Maybe he was the guilty one here, put on trial for a crime of the heart.
Ranpo didn’t reply. Instead, he just started humming a soft song, picking up one of Poe’s hands and fidgeting with it. Tracing the lines on his palm, the calluses he had from writing, the rough skin around his nails where he’d picked at the skin out of anxiety. It was a story of so much – just by looking at it, it was clear that he was tedious in his work, writing day after day. He got nervous sometimes, obvious by the edges of bitten-down nails that he’d desperately tried to keep neat. The soft skin of the palm showed how he had the luxury of being wealthy, never having to do manual labor, at least not in recent years. And it was beautiful .
“What are you doing?”
“Admiring you,” Ranpo said bluntly, not interested in hiding anymore.
“What is there to admire?” Poe said, startled and sitting straight up in his chair, no longer slouched over. Ranpo laughed, but it wasn’t out of malice.
“Have you seen yourself?”
Poe hesitated. “Yes. And I must admit, I hate it.”
“I don’t hate it at all.” Ranpo lightly squeezed Poe’s hand at this, adoring the way the blush on his face was so visible. Poe opened his mouth to speak, but Ranpo cut him off before he could start. “If you’re about to talk about how much you hate yourself, don’t.” He got off the desk and stood, still holding onto Poe’s hand.
“But there is, so, so much. I’m afraid you are blind to it.”
“You are the only worthy opponent I’ve had, Edgar. And I mean that.”
Poe sighed, not fully processing the hand that was now cupping his cheek. “And I have failed yo-“
“You talk too much about your failures.” The detective said simply, leaning in to kiss the other, effectively shutting Poe up from talking himself down. While startled, Poe leaned into it, lightly placing one hand on the small of Ranpo’s back. When they finally broke away from each other, Ranpo’s smirk was unmistakably there. “I figured it’d work, but I didn’t anticipate how well,” he said with a light laugh.
“W...work?” Poe stuttered, still stunned by the action. Did it mean anything to Ranpo? Was it a cruel trick? Maybe it’s what he deserved, after all of that, it was divine intervention for his failures, his lack of confession-
“I can practically hear you doubting yourself again,” Ranpo said, fixing his hat. “Don’t. We just went over this. But anyways~ I have some stuff to do, so I’ll see you later!” He laughed again. Honestly, he wanted to stay, but he wanted to save Poe the embarrassment, no matter how badly he wanted to tease the other.
Poe panicked – was he really about to kiss him and then leave? Had he done something wrong?
“Please don’t go.” Were the words that manifested, without stuttering, without tripping over them, just three words, clear as day. Ranpo turned around and cocked his head to the side. “Whatever it is... can’t it wait?” He felt so selfish asking for it, but it was what he needed. He needed Ranpo to stay, to make sure it was real, to make sure it wasn’t all a dream. Poe had never imagined loving his rival, someone he was so convinced he hated, but here they were.
Ranpo grinned, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Hmm... but this detective has some important work to do...” He feigned thinking, tapping his finger against his chin and then making his way back to the desk. “But it can wait. I guess my boyfriend is more important~” he teased, thoroughly enjoying the blush that appeared on Poe’s face.
“Spare my heart, please,” Poe sighed, hiding his face with his arms as he laid his head on the desk. Ranpo smiled and gently ran his hands through Poe’s hair, and it was like Poe’s heartbeat couldn’t decide whether it should speed up or slow down.
“You look like you’re sick.”
“Lovesick, maybe.”
“How cute.”
Poe shifted his head, so he was lying on its side, able to see Ranpo. He reached for Ranpo’s hand and held it in his own, admiring the beauty in it, and how small it was in comparison. He placed a gentle kiss on the top of it, letting it linger. Poe felt addicted to this already, and he couldn’t get enough of the feeling. “I don’t ever want you to leave my side.”
“And I won’t leave yours,” Ranpo said, his teasing tone turned to sincerity. “And that’s a detective’s promise.”
Maybe this will work out after all. There’s so much to be afraid of, still, but I’ll have him by my side through it. So... it shouldn’t be as bad, right?
Six years. That’s how long this took us, to realize that we were meant for each other. Did he ever truly think of me as a rival in the same way – did I really think of him as a rival? Or did I just long to get close to him, using the rivalry as an excuse to devote my time to creating things meant for him? I guess it worked, in the end.
It's too soon to propose, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have plans to. Maybe I’ll give it one or two years. I’d do it now if I could, but would it catch him off-guard? Actually, that’s a stupid thought. Nothing manages to catch him off-guard. It’s adorable, and terrifying, at the same time. He’d probably figured out my plan from the start, just to get close to him. But he’s also socially oblivious... so maybe he didn’t. If he knew, why didn’t he say anything? To spare my embarrassment?
There are so many questions I want to ask, so much that I want to know – I want to know more about him, hear his childhood stories, meet his family and friends, and ask for permission to have his hand in marriage. I want all of that and more. And maybe that’s selfish, but I don’t care. I have him, and I don’t intend on ever letting go.
Poe looked up at the detective, his hand still holding the other’s. He couldn’t even begin to express how he felt right now, but one word managed to make it out, hanging in the air between them.
“Always?”
Ranpo nodded, smiling, giving Poe’s hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
“Always.”