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The sight of his own front door is enough to make Shuichi sigh in relief. It’s plain compared to the festive and well-lit porches of its neighbors, decorated with only a simple wreath, but Shuichi likes it better this way. It’s homely, and exactly the kind of warm and welcoming he appreciates after a long day.
Not that it’s been the bad kind of long day. The opposite, in fact: shopping for last-minute gifts in the morning, lunch with Rantaro and Kiyo, and then the Christmas party at Kaito’s. He can’t call spending so much time with his friends a bad day.
But now, late on Christmas Eve and coming home to an empty apartment, Shuichi can’t help but feel….
...Ah, there’s no point in dwelling on it, he decides as he unlocks the door, shaking the snowflakes from his shoulders as he steps inside. Best to get to bed and forget about it. He’s visiting his aunt and uncle tomorrow, so it’s not like he’s really alone….
A soft sound from the kitchen sends a chill down his spine as he realizes that last statement is truer than he thought.
How had he not noticed that the lights were on when he walked in…?
He forces himself to remain calm and think it through. Whoever it is had to have heard him, and they haven’t made a move to attack him yet. Courtesy of his uncle, Shuichi has… the means to defend himself in this apartment, but he’d rather it not come to that, especially without more information….
Keeping his back to the wall, he creeps closer to the doorway leading into the kitchen, and slowly peers around the corner.
The alarm leaves him in a shaky breath when he recognizes the figure sifting through one of his kitchen drawers. Short, lean, and dressed in a sharp white uniform complete with a short cape and a mask over his eyes, the infamous phantom thief looks more like a character from a manga than the villain that the press makes him out to be.
This scene isn’t all that surprising, now that he thinks about it. Shuichi steps into the kitchen, clears his throat, and asks, “Can I help you with something, Joker?”
“Eh—? Mr. Detective!” Joker spins on his heel like Shuichi’s just caught him in front of a safe full of diamonds, with the same delighted expression he’d wear if that were the case. “You’re here earlier than I expected! How did you know where to find me?”
“This is my house,” Shuichi points out, though there’s no bite to his tone. It’s hardly the first time Joker has gotten in, and while part of him realizes he should be upset about the breaking-and-entering… the worst Joker has ever done was leave takeout curry in his fridge with a note admonishing him to take better care of himself.
“Wooow, Detective Saihara is as sharp as ever!” Joker inspects his fingernails. “But I was lying before, y’know? You’re actually super late. If any of my subordinates made me wait this long, I’d ship them off to Siberia.”
“Ah, sorry…?” Shuichi sets his keys down on the countertop. “Maybe if I’d known to expect company….”
“Ohh, you got me!”
Shuichi shakes his head. “Listen, as much as I enjoy chasing you around, I should warn you that I… probably won’t be much fun tonight,” he admits.
“Oh?” Joker tilts his whole body to one side. “What’s got you down, my beloved?”
“I’m not down, really, it’s just….” He shrugs, mulling over the words. “Tired. I spent the day away from home, and it’s late, so I’m not in much of a mood to run around.”
“Well, that’s good, ‘cause I’m not in much of a mood to get arrested!” Joker says. “How about a truce, then, huh? We can just chat for a bit, tonight. No running, no handcuffs, and—”
“No glitter bombs?” Shuichi raises an eyebrow at the thief, whose grin widens.
“That was one time, detective—”
“And I still find it in my car, no matter how much I vaccuum it.”
“Would it help if I apologized?”
“Would you mean it?”
“Nope!” His thief’s grin never falters. “Hey, hey, don’t change the subject! Truce or no truce?”
“Truce,” Shuichi relents. “Though, I don’t suppose you’ll be telling me why you’re in my apartment at—” He glances at the clock on the stove— “nearly midnight on Christmas Eve?”
“Oh, y’know.” Joker drums his gloved fingertips on the countertop. “We ran out of ribbon at my secret base, so I wondered if you had any here.”
“Ribbon…?” Shuichi catches himself actually trying to remember whether he has any before he remembers wanted thief, illegal entry, really should be arresting him. “U-um, why…?”
“For your Christmas present!” Joker explains with exaggerated patience. “It’s got to look perfect. I’ve already had two gift-wrapping specialists transmuted into goats for botching this, so unless you want to suffer the same fate….”
“Wait— you’d turn me into a goat over my own present?” Shuichi bursts out.
“At least it’s not a reindeer! Can you imagine the humiliation?” Joker shivers. “You’d have to pull my sleigh and everything….”
The image makes Shuichi snort with laughter despite himself. “You’re Santa Claus now? I guess that makes sense with you leading a secret organization….”
“Actually,” Joker says, striking a pose and bowing like a magician just finishing a performance, “I’m your Christmas present.”
Shuichi raises a dubious eyebrow. “So you were looking for ribbon… to wrap yourself?”
“Well, I couldn’t exactly traverse the whole city if I was tied up already,” Joker huffs. “I thought I’d find something here, but it turns out Mr. Detective’s pretty vanilla, huh?”
“Um….” Shuichi has the feeling he’s missing something, but the thief is already moving on.
“You’re my Secret Santa assignment,” he explains, rolling back and forth on his heels. “It’s a thing the Americans made up so they only have to give one person a present! We do the same thing in my organization to keep the budget under control. Otherwise I’d have to provide charcuterie boards and fancy champagne for every last one of them or they’d execute me in the middle of town square. Really, the lengths I go to keep ten thousand subordinates happy….”
“Hold on,” Shuichi cuts in, still catching up. “You can’t have been assigned my name if I’m not even a part of your organization—”
“No?” Joker feigns shock, clutching his chest. “Well, you could have told me that before I ordered the bouncy house and cotton candy machines!”
“Please tell me that’s a lie—”
“I had a whole circus troupe practice an entirely new routine just for you, and this is the thanks I get?” Joker taps the back of his hand against his forehead and fake-swoons over the counter. “So cruel! We were gonna do fireworks and elephants and everything….”
“Okay, you’re definitely lying.” Shuichi hides a smile behind his hand.
“Sharp as ever, Mr. Detective!” Joker plants his chin in his palms and beams up at him. “But the part about giving you a present was all true, y’know. So you should totally check under your tree.”
Shuichi pauses, taken aback, but Joker’s already skipping around the corner and into the living room.
“C’mon, you only have fifteen seconds to defuse it or we’ll lose the whole city!”
“All right, I’m coming.” Shuichi shakes his head and follows. Funny how he’s still chasing his phantom thief even in his own house.
He’s not sure what he was expecting. A faceful of confetti, maybe, or all the furniture turned upside down. Definitely not his thief sitting quietly on the couch, gesturing toward a small package resting innocuously under the Christmas tree.
“What’s that surprised look for?” his thief chides him.
“You… you actually did bring one,” Shuichi says.
“Wooow, you really are an amazing detective!”
“A detective who’s supposed to be chasing you,” Shuichi reminds him. “Is it really a good idea to be giving me presents?”
Joker raises his forefinger imperiously. “I’ll be the judge of that, thank you very much. Come on, humor me.”
It’s probably just a gag gift, Shuichi thinks as he gingerly picks it up, sitting down on the couch as well. A box of shaving cream, or— “Is it another glitter bomb?”
“Yep! And it’s extra fine this time, so it’ll never come out. But that’s probably a lie,” Joker adds, leaning back on the couch like he owns the place. “Guess you’ll have to see.”
Shuichi studies his unreadable expression for a tell. Joker usually doesn’t like to repeat pranks, but then, maybe that unpredictability would make the repetition unpredictable in and of itself. But maybe Joker being here at all could be considered a prank….
…Oh, fine.
He peels back the shiny red paper, feeling Joker smirk from beside him. The wrapping falls away to reveal….
“Oh,” Shuichi says, “it’s a book?”
“Don’t sound too impressed,” Joker pouts.
“No, I’m just— I’m glad nothing jumped out at me,” he amends, studying the cover. “‘Around the World: Foxe’s Absolutely Accurate Almanac’?”
“It’s a travel journal,” Joker explains as Shuichi opens the cover and flips through the first pages, “except the author never actually went anywhere. It’s a lie.”
“‘Australia, the only place on the planet with no spiders,’” Shuichi reads, grinning, “‘France, the soup capital of the world—’”
“Pretty dumb, huh?” Joker twirls a lock of hair that’s come loose from his ponytail. “You were right, before. You’re my sworn enemy, so it only makes sense to give you boring presents you don’t like.”
“I do like it,” Shuichi says, chuckling at a photo of a sunny beach and a sparkling ocean captioned Arizona. “This looks like a lot of fun, Joker. Thank you.”
Joker’s expression goes neutral, then softens into an amused smile. “Well, of course!” he says. “That was my plan all along. I’m known as the best gift-giver in my organization, you know.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Shuichi reflects, standing the book up on the side table so lights from the tree glimmer on its cover. “I… I wish I had something for you, too. If I’d known you would be here—”
“But you didn’t know!” Joker says cheerily. “So I’ll let you keep your fingers this time.” Shuichi laughs a little at what he knows to be an empty threat. “Besides,” Joker adds, softer, “there’s only one thing I really want.”
The low light accentuates the angles of his face, sharpens the shadows of his mask. Joker looks so ethereal next to him, luminous violet eyes and dark hair, the very personification of mystery and adventure and intrigue, so close that Shuichi could just reach out and….
He has to blink a few times to force himself to focus again. “And… what might that be?”
Joker hums and raises a hand, tracing his fingertips down Shuichi’s jaw to hold his chin, a tiny smirk curling the corner of his mouth as his gaze travels down to Shuichi’s lips. “A kiss from a pretty detective.”
The effect is immediate; Shuichi feels his face heat up and his breath catches high in his throat.
Does that mean he likes me back?
“Wow, you should see your face!” Joker pulls away just as quickly with a giggle. “You really fell for that dumb lie? Geez, Mr. Detective must be losing his edge if he—”
Shuichi makes up his mind then and there, and in a show of bravery he doesn’t feel, he grabs Joker by the scarf and pulls him in close. Joker’s expression blanks, his eyes widening— so Shuichi closes his own and presses their lips together.
It’s a little awkward, his inexperience probably obvious from the way their noses bump and he immediately freezes up, but the nervous energy prickling through him melts into something pleasant and giddy when Joker hums against his lips, tilting his head to reciprocate.
It’s nice. Really nice, he thinks, and then, I’m kissing a wanted criminal, and then, I wonder if I should stop— and then Joker’s teeth graze over his bottom lip and he stops caring about anything else.
He lets Joker take the lead, brings a hand up to cup the back of his neck as the thief’s fingers slide into his hair, his thumbs brushing over Shuichi’s cheekbones. He’s more gentle than Shuichi would have expected— not that he’d imagined what kissing his phantom thief would be like before, definitely not— and his lips are insistent, curious even, as he moves closer, until their chests are nearly touching. Briefly, he wonders if Joker can feel the way his heart is pounding.
They’ve never been this close before. Never kissed; that’s a given, but… this feels new for a different reason. Like they’re crossing an unspoken divide, leaving behind the chase and the law and the rivalry. The truce hangs above their heads like it belongs there.
They break away for a moment to breathe, and Shuichi flushes deeper as Joker studies him with those dark, unreadable eyes, his pupils dilated in the dimness.
“J-Joker,” he manages as the other returns to his lips, guiding him down until his upper back is resting against the arm of the couch.
“Mmm?” Joker’s hands trail down to hold his sides, and then he slips his tongue past Shuichi’s lips and Shuichi’s mind goes blank.
He lets out a tiny whine as Joker presses more insistently into his mouth, exploring, the kiss warm and wet and suddenly intense enough to send a buzz of anxiety up his spine. It feels good, really good, but at the same time—
Joker’s straddling him now, and Shuichi’s pulse echoes in his ears, fast enough to make him feel lightheaded. His breath hitches when Joker nips at his bottom lip again, and then Joker pulls away to press openmouthed kisses up the line of his jaw, lightly teasing at the sensitive skin below his ear. “Wanna play with me, Mr. Detective?” he purrs, fingertips slipping under the hem of Shuichi’s shirt.
“Ah—!” Shuichi clutches at his wrists, frantic. “W-wait!” he squeaks. “Wait, I—”
Joker pulls his head away immediately, freezing in place. Shuichi closes his eyes, trying to breathe as evenly as he can, but… oh, no, now he’s shaking, and he’s sure Joker can feel it through his white-knuckled grip on his arms—
“Should I stop?” Joker whispers.
Shuichi bites his lip, trembling, guilt mixing in with the discomfort and doubling both of them.
“One word and it stops,” his thief adds.
He can’t do this. He swallows hard. “P-please stop,” he gasps out.
Joker’s off him in a second, moving to the other arm of the couch and watching Shuichi closely as he sits up. “Are you okay?” he asks. “Did I hurt you?”
“N-no, no, you didn’t.” Shuichi takes a deep breath and exhales in another embarrassingly quavery sigh. Relief has washed out the discomfort, but the shame is still there, forming into a lump in his throat.
“No need to be scared,” Joker murmurs. “I’d never make Mr. Detective do something he doesn’t like.”
“I believe you.” Shuichi clenches his hands over his knees. “I— It’s not a no,” he adds, unable to keep the red from creeping into his cheeks. “Just… not… not y-yet? M-maybe?” He trails off and covers his face with a groan. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
Joker hesitates. “Because of… of your job, or…?”
Shuichi shakes his head. “I’ve always been like this.”
“Oh,” Joker breathes. Shuichi hears him move, and then the thief’s hand closes around his wrist, pulling it away from his face. “Hey. You don’t owe me an explanation, okay?” he says. “And you definitely don’t need to apologize.”
Shuichi squeezes his hand, the tension in his throat easing just slightly.
“Shuichi.” Shuichi almost flinches at the use of his given name, at Joker’s hand on his cheek, turning his head to face him. “You don’t owe me anything.”
Joker’s wearing his serious face. Even through the mask, Shuichi can see it in the set of his jaw, the way his eyes are hard but not unkind.
He really means it, Shuichi realizes. The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach disperses immediately. Joker wouldn’t push Shuichi into something he didn’t want, but more than that— he wouldn’t think any differently of Shuichi because of this. Joker respects him; he’s proven it to him time and time again throughout the course of their game, in exaggerated truths, or camoflaged in over-the-top lies.
I’m always thinking about you, you know!
Then… it wasn’t a lie, when he’d said that? He….
He cares about me.
Despite all his lies, Shuichi thinks, Joker might be the most genuine person he’s ever met.
He smiles, holding his thief’s hand against his face and leaning into his touch. “Thank you.”
Joker lets him be the one to pull away, both of them taking a deep breath and averting their eyes. The silence that falls between them is comfortable, casual, and… easy.
“Does Mr. Detective want some space?” Joker says, as nonchalant as if he’s offering cream and sugar for tea. “I was thinking about doing some last-minute candy shopping, anyway, so….”
“You don’t have to go.”
“Hmm?” Joker swings his legs, tipping his head to the side and studying him. “What do you want, my beloved?”
“I….” Shuichi laces his fingers in his lap. “I’d like you to stay, for a while. If you want,” he says. “We could… talk, and… make hot chocolate? Um. If you want.”
Joker hums, gazing at him a moment longer, then snickers. “Makes sense not to waste a perfectly good ceasefire!” he says. “Especially where there’s chocolate involved. You do have marshmallows, right?” he adds as he bounds to his feet, brimming with energy like a shaken soda can.
“Ah, maybe…?”
“Guess we’ll find out! C’mon, c’mon!”
So the detective chases his phantom thief through his own house again, without any thought of the police badge in the pocket of the coat hanging by the front door, without worrying about anything but the two of them. The quiet apartment is made warmer by their laughter, and the winter night doesn’t seem lonely at all.