#thank you to Mi for letting me know that one blend of bourbon scotch and rye is called a campfire. this will be relevant in part 2

[the-red-thread-that-strangles]

Operation Campfire

Part I

"We need to leave."

Quiet and unobtrusive, Akai has slipped up to Rei through the sea of people around them. He really needs to stop doing that; the warm, low voice, barely a whisper in Rei's ear, makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

It's not even been twenty minutes. This is going to be a long, long night.

He's lucky the attention of the guests is on the stage; otherwise, someone might notice the flush creeping up his cheeks at Akai's too-close proximity. It's nice, in a way, to know he'll come this close; gods know Akai's not particularly comfortable with most people, prefers to keep his distance. The fact he doesn't, with Rei, in a public space no less, is an admission of their mutual trust.

It's also highly inconvenient, right now, because it sends a shiver down Rei's spine.

He manages to supress the movement, barely, and focuses on the issue at hand. Leaning back against Akai would be very lovely and all, but this is hardly the time nor place for it. He already has a reputation of cozying up to the FBI too much - and that's with his colleagues barely knowing half the things he and Akai have been up to. He can't afford to give them more ammunition.

In fact, he's here tonight for precisely the opposite purpose. He has an image to improve.

It is a little annoying, though. Because it should be their night. Theoretically. The celebration of five long years of undercover work, coming to a successful conclusion. Food and drinks on the house, how lovely.

As it stands, however, being himself would probably be a disaster. He's going to be Amuro, tonight, and he's going to do a lot of networking and very little else.

(They've got their own celebration planned in a couple of days, anyways. Just Hiro, Akai, and himself, on vacation for the first time in years.)

Between an hour of speeches, another hour of rewards for key figures, food and drink and dance, Rei's not particularly looking forward to the night. But he's got superiors to bedazzle, and he's not going to let this opportunity slip through his fingers - especially not for an idiot that hasn't managed to apologize, properly, for trampling all over Rei's feelings.

Akai has certainly tried; has even had flowers delivered to him.

(At least Rei presumes it was him; there's very few people that know his new address, even fewer with reason to apologize, and then there's the fact his mysterious gift giver forgot to sign their name on the accompanying card. Even detective Mouri Kogoro - also present, tonight - could crack this case.

That reminds him- he should toss the dried-up hydrangea into the trash already.)

But at the end of the day, Rei doesn't care for flowers or chocolates or cards. What he really wants is for Akai to suck it up and say the words himself. He knows it's a tall order; after all, it's not like he's apologized for any of the privacy violations - and other assorted crimes - he committed while hunting for Akai.

That was different, though.

Akai setting him up with Hiro was entirely pointless, utterly avoidable. If Akai is worth Rei's time, he'll acknowledge that and apologize properly.

At least, Rei would like to pretend his affections hinge on Akai's words.

Unfortunately, that isn't quite the truth any longer, probably hasn't been in a good long while. Because Akai, stupid, reckless idiot that he is, has wormed his way into Rei's heart. Even if he desperately wishes it weren't so.

He's tried, of course, to exorcise Shuuichi from it, several times in fact. But Akai is burrowed in too deep, nestled into Rei's weak spot; unless he wants to rip himself apart in the process, there's no getting rid of him that easily. And that's if Rei could even bring himself to want to do that. Which he doesn't.

They've grown too close, entwined with one another. Relying on each other.

And were it a matter of life and death, he'd go with Akai in a heartbeat.

(Considering its rabbit-quick palpitations in the FBI agent's proximity, that would be rather fast, these days.)

Right now, however, Akai's still projecting calm.

Not that he ever shows many signs of distress, generally too in control of himself. A useful trait, in their line of work - but somewhat inconvenient if one cares about this idiot. It's for the best, then, that Rei has become quite adept at reading even the smallest cues Akai lets slip through the crack. He's not impossible to read, especially up close.

(Close enough that his concealed gun presses into Rei's flank. His breath hitches at the realization.)

He takes a moment to fiddle with the folds of his suit jacket, to make sure it hides his own shoulder holster adequately. A feeble attempt to calm himself.

Akai's presence demands too much of his attention.

He's barely moving at all, even his breathing tightly controlled. Rei's sure if he looked back, he'd see the muscles of Akai's lovely neck pulled taut, his eyes sharp and unyielding. But given that he's chosen to stand in a way that would make it hard for him to draw his weapon, there's nothing to worry about - not yet, at least.

Knowing Akai, it's very possible he just doesn't like how many people have gathered here, tonight.

(A sentiment Rei shares, after too much time spent in the shadows.)

In the end, however, it's just a party. And one with such a high percentage of law enforcement attendants that it would be utterly stupid to try any funny business tonight.

(Rei tries to ignore that this would also make it an appealing target for anyone with a grudge against the police.)

He's not about to let Akai (or a hypothetical terrorist) ruin his career opportunities.

His answer, thus, remains firm.

"No."

Still, he can't help wondering what has Akai so wired. If there's something to worry about, he probably needs to know.

"What's wrong?" Rei mouths, barely a sound passing from his lips. He stares ahead to the podium, pretending to listen to the speech Kuroda's giving at the moment.

"Several people have been staring at you and me - including your subordinate, for the last twenty minutes. And I'm not supposed to cause trouble, tonight", Akai mumbles, too soft and too close.

If he keeps speaking like that, it's going to be trouble, alright.

Rei grits his teeth. Resists the urge to draw him in close. Akai can damn well protect himself, if need be.

"At least half the people in this room have read your dossier. I would be more surprised if they didn't stare at you, Silver Bullet."

He tries for dismissive, but the nickname flows from his lips too easily, too affectionately. Rei can't help it. His feelings bleed out of him, whenever he's not careful enough - a circumstance with historical prevalence, in Akai's presence.

Still, he'll humour Akai and assess the situation. Looks around, pretending to look for a waiter, a guise to survey the room.

He doesn't get far.

His gaze gets caught on Shuuichi, for what must be seconds at most, though they feel like an eternity. On the smile, soft and private and barely noticeable, the warmth mirrored in the creases around his eyes. He should be doing something else, but it's hard to look away, when Rei knows he caused this look, that the fondness is meant for him.

(It's the look usually reserved for Akai's family. The thought makes Rei nauseous.)

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, before he does something very, very stupid.

Because Akai doesn't look like his dossier's picture, tonight. He looks even better.

Akai must have slept more, recently, to reduce the bags under his eyes. Someone, presumably Kudo Yukiko - because Rei refuses to believe Akai's managed it himself - has dressed him up appropriately for the gala, too - he's wearing a navy-blue suit over a cream turtleneck sweater. His hair has been slicked back; his curls forced into a short ponytail by a silver ribbon. And if Rei's not mistaken, Akai's even wearing a bit of eyeliner that defines his already sharp eyes in even starker lines.

He's stunning, like this. Anyone with a pair of working eyes would be drawn to him.

Like hell Rei's going to tell him that, though.

Instead, he will use a different outlet for the emotions that are threatening to boil over within - Kazami.

He finds his associate in the crowd easily enough, staring intently at the pair of them, just as Akai had described. Rei's learned from the best; despite the brilliant smile, the glare he gives his subordinate is positively murderous.

Kazami flushes, coughs into his fist, and finally has the decency to look away. Rei will need to ask later why his subordinate thought it a good idea to leave his manners at home when attending such a prestigious gathering.

By his side, he can feel Akai relax a bit, a warm breath released past his ear. It's all the thanks Rei knows he'll get for the sniper to squeeze his arm, once, before he disappears back into the crowd.

(Where Akai touched him, the warmth lingers.)

Rei goes to find himself that waiter. He needs a drink, or maybe two.

.

While he's sipping his champagne - one of the few drinks left without that certain bad aftertaste - several people are called to the stage to receive their accolades.

It stings to know neither himself nor Akai will be called there tonight, despite their contributions.

It makes sense; what they did does not belong into the light. If their deeds were exposed, the public would see just how ugly and dirty and bloodstained public safety's hands really are. Better to keep it hidden.

Because even their peers, so many of which are here tonight, those that should understand, often don't. Rei has seen the looks people give him. Some of his superiors have been away from field duty for too long.

(Have forgotten when the ends justify the means.)

He's made sure to document every crime he committed, to send the reports to the higher-ups on a regular basis. And yet they left him to his own devices, offered no support or advice when he reported extortion and murder, torture and theft and arson.

(Before Kazami became his contact, communications had been so spotty he'd laid awake some nights, wondering whether they'd just leave him to die alone if he needed extraction. Wash their hands off him.)

Now, for the first time in years, he'd been face to face with his superiors during the post-takedown interviews - though they would be better described as interrogations, really, questioning his motives and loyalties.

In their quest to understand what happened, they'd pried apart every last reason, every justification he gave for his actions, the legitimacy of every injury he'd sustained. After lying for his survival for so long, he'd been afraid, for a moment, to be truthful with them - but there could never be absolution for his crimes, if he kept them locked up in his mind. So he'd laid it all out for them.

Had watched them pale as he described cutting off a young woman's fingers to send them to her husband. Had heard them swallow at the illegal pornographic materials he'd found on the laptop of a prestigious prosecutor, used for blackmail.

(Had seen the fear in their eyes, quite clearly. They must have thought he was a monster.

And some days, Rei's sure that they are onto something. He wouldn't change a thing, but still his deeds keep him up at night.)

In the end, they found nothing to fault him for. Pardoned his crimes, even if they weren't pleased about it. Awarded him with the honours he was due - the medal he's wearing pinned to his chest today a symbol of his service to the country he loves so much.

(Part of him wonders, can't help it, really, whether they'd ripped him apart just as much if he didn't look like he was a foreigner in his own country.

The rejection burns, bile rising in his throat.)

Maybe Akai was right. They should've just left right at the start. Then he wouldn't have to listen to those who fought and lived, nor the remnants of those who fought and lost.

Why is he doing this to himself? It's only dredging up bad memories he's trying to leave behind.

For a moment, he considers finding Akai and ditching the gala right there and then. But wherever he ran off to, Rei can't find him while his resolve wavers.

With a sigh, he resigns himself to the long night ahead.

He empties his glass in time for Hiro to be summoned to the stage.

.

It's not a surprise to hear his best friend's name be called, they knew ahead of time, but it still drives home just how different their lives turned out, in the end.

Hiro is a killer just the same, after all, but by being removed from active duty for a few years that somehow become palatable. They've made him out to be a survivor, a hero - the poster child for the kind of brave young officers the PSB needs to take on the difficult missions.

(Young and enthusiastic, because without their fervour, the work would break them.)

Even though Rei tries, he can't help but envy Hiro's moment in the spotlight.

(They should stand up there, together. Them, and three others that lost their lives in the line of duty already. It was always supposed to be the five of them.)

Rei hates himself for it.

It's not like Hiro's basking in the limelight. His smile is strained, his words curt, as he's thanked for his service. Somehow his attitude is understood as professional, instead of rude - the benefits of his cool smile, Rei supposes. But even if his best friend can fool the audience, Rei knows Scotch when he sees him.

(It's a small consolation to see that Hiro, too, has been changed by what they've been through. Rei clings to the connection, painful as it is.)

It's over fairly quickly, thankfully.

Hiro brushes past his proud older brother's congratulations, and instead finds Rei, wordlessly grabs the drink saved for him.

.

Time crawls and drags. More people go up, give a little speech of their own, step back down again. Their faces blur together.

"Zero."

Hiro bumps his shoulder, gently reminding him of the present, his presence.

The doom and gloom permeating the room is poisonous. Here Rei is, being envious of his best friend, when it's a miracle he's standing there at all. How stupid. Things could've gone bad so easily, but they made it through alive, and that's worth something.

He leans back against Hiro's shoulder, focuses on his best friend's breathing.

.

When the ceremony is finished, it's time to do what Rei's come for - socialize, improve his standing. He's doing what he can in the office, but to limited effect, since he still spends a lot of time on field investigations. His identity might no longer be a national secret, but he's missed afterwork beers a few times too many. His colleagues treat him as other, despite his best efforts.

He'll just need to show them that he's human, too.

(Even if he can't show his true self.)

Rei could probably go at it alone, but he's used to two-person jobs - briefly, he wonders which tropical island Vermouth is enjoying her pardon on, is glad she hasn't sent a postcard - and Hiro's agreed to be his back-up. Probably for the best, considering how the night went, thus far.

If he wasn't a decently capable sniper, Hiro would have made a good intelligence officer for the organisation as well.

The amount of intel they gathered because calm and collected Scotch didn't take sides, knew to listen and offer insightful advice, was a little insane. The organisation never expected his betrayal, until it was too late (and even then, Rei vividly recalls Chianti pissing off Gin when she insisted that surely Scotch wasn't a rat - one of the few sources of amusement, in those trying times). Charismatic enough to get even the ice-cold grim reaper to thaw - that's his best friend.

And some of the familiarity they're trying to reclaim is still there, because they slip into their masks effortlessly, side by side. Fall into their old patterns.

Between Scotch's dry wit, and Amuro's dazzling charm, very few people manage to avoid the conversational vortex that sucks them in, spits them out with an improved opinion of agents Furuya and Morofushi.

A compliment about an officer's subtle earrings here, 'heartfelt' congratulations for the graduation of a colleague's daughter from a prestigious university there - after years of depending on highly sensitive intel, it's laughable how easily these people can be won over with the information they volunteer on their social media profiles.

In the ebb and flow of conversations, Rei makes sure they don't stay past the small talk, lest they reach actually interesting or even controversial topics. Usually, this is fine - people are looking to celebrate, not form meaningful connections. But every single one of them wants to toast with him, and there's too many detectives around, so Rei actually takes a sip when they ask him to.

It's been a while since he drank that much, and he probably shouldn't have.

.

It starts out innocently enough. The young woman talking to their latest mark seems vaguely familiar, though Rei can't quite place her.

They chat, for a while, about nothing of importance, when finally, they reach the dreaded stage of meaningful conversation. They should dip, but her enthusiasm is helplessly charming, provide an easy in with their target. Rei can't help but want to indulge her, nudging Hiro to stay a little longer. It's nice when others do his job for them.

"It makes me so happy, to see the case that took my partner finally laid to rest. Were you part of the final operation?"

Of course, the question isn't unexpected. Rei's prepared a variety of different answers for why he's here, depending on who's asking. Unfortunately, he makes the mistake of really, truly, looking at the woman.

He freezes, his mind caught on all the things he can't ever tell her.

Because Rei's never seen her in person before, but he knows her. Showed shots of her picking up their kids to her husband, in a last-ditch effort to finally get him to break. The man hadn't.

Instead, he had quietly and resolutely told Rei he'd rather die, now, than drag his family into it.

Bourbon had given him what he'd asked for.

All he sees is the concrete cellar, monochrome but for the blood splattering on the floor and Bourbon's gloves, white fabric stained crimson. The smell of iron and gunpowder rises from the cold, hard, gun in his hand.

He blinks.

Thankfully, Hiro notices his stupor and steals the woman's attention away to cover for him, but they cut the conversation short after that, regardless.

Rei hurriedly removes his gloves, tosses them into the trash on their way out.

.

"What was that?" Hiro asks, when they're out of earshot of the woman, heading to one of the lesser-used employee bathrooms. His best friend is projecting calm, but the last syllable came out too sharp - he's clearly concerned.

"It's nothing to worry about."

Hiro, unfortunately, has never been particularly inclined to believe Rei when he lies straight to his face.

"You blanked out for half a minute and started shaking."

Okay, so, Rei doesn't remember that part, but he was a little preoccupied at the time.

"She caught me unaware. It won't happen again."

His best friend checks the bathroom stalls to make sure they're empty, puts a 'cleaning in progress' from the supply cabinet on the door. Pats the spot next to himself on the counter, and gives Rei a long look.

"Zero..."

Urgh.

Hiro's voice is soft and gentle, as if speaking to a spooked animal, and that really is the worst. Rei could resist anger and accusations, but genuine concern? Not a chance.

"Sometimes I get flashbacks. Short ones, but vivid. Started when you were gone. They haven't happened in a while, so I thought it was over."

It's an uncomfortable relief to finally tell someone, like removing a splinter from a wound - it still bleeds, but unless it's done, he can't ever heal. Rei would much rather not have divulged it, at least not right here and now, but his best friend is persistent - it's easier to just tell him what he wants to know, before he launches a full-on cross-examination. Besides, Rei's known for a while it needed to be addressed; he's lucky the episodes haven't happened in a situation that cost him dearly, thus far.

(And that Hiro was there to bail him out, tonight.)

"What kind of flashbacks?"

Rei winces and rubs his temple. Tries to shake off the memory.

"Usually harmless. Sometimes traumatic."

Hiro has entered the stage of damage assessment, and it's unlikely he'll stop before he's satisfied.

"Visual? Auditory?"

"All senses."

Hiro pinches the bridge of his nose.

"And this has been going on for years now?"

It's a rhetorical question, but at this point Rei might as well indulge him.

"Yes."

Hiro sighs.

Rei's just glad the dissection has stopped, momentarily.

"You should really talk about this with someone. A professional, preferably." That much is expected. Rei knows he should, hasn't done so for a very simple reason - it might get him disqualified from field duty. If he was ever constrained to a desk job, he would simply shrivel up and die.

He's sure the aversion is clearly visible on his face.

"I'll take that as a no. Have you tried talking to Akai?" That suggestion, at least, is novel, albeit utterly stupid.

"He has the emotional intelligence of a starfish, why should I bother?"

Rei knows that assessment is a little unfair, but even if Akai's not utterly hopeless, his inability to communicate what he actually means results in just about the same outcome.

(Not that Rei's any better, most days.)

Hiro smiles at him, too knowing. 'Because you like him, and there's a very short list of people that applies to', Rei can almost hear him say.

There would be no arguing with that, even if Rei sure as hell would try. Instead, Hiro finds a different way to casually knock the breath from his lungs.

"Give him a chance. He might understand."

.

They rest up for a couple minutes, grab a breath of fresh air, and then return into the fray.

It's probably no use to try and bedazzle more people; Rei's tired, woozy, and he's all but exhausted the list of officers that are likely to influence the office climate. Still, there's one last thing he should be doing tonight, to improve his image.

Not his favourite part of the night, and he really can't afford to jinx it by asking if things could go any worse.

As it is an international gathering, there's a section of the facility sectioned off with a live band, providing an improvised dance floor. Amuro, a 'proper gentleman', should let himself be seen on it. There's always a surplus of women who wish to dance on these occasions, and indulging a few is an easy way to earn good will.

Still, he'd really rather not.

.

His apprehension isn't for lack of competence.

Years ago, in an unlikely team-up, Rye and Vermouth taught him the basics of ballroom dancing for a mission (the fact the sniper knew how to do that really should've been an indication he wasn't as American as he had claimed). Their lessons had been more enjoyable than Rei had anticipated - mostly because he got to step on Rye's toes whenever he felt like it. It was quite satisfying to feel the sniper tense in his arms, trying not to flinch.

(And more pleasurable than he cared to admit, at the time, to get to hold Rye, pressed close, taut but compliant, moving only at Rei's behest. Their clothes soaked through with sweat-)

Rei slams the lid on that memory before it starts burning. They really like to cling to him today, huh.

In the end, Rei picked up dancing without much issue. Would even say he enjoys it, sometimes.

No, the problem is simply that it feels wrong to let someone into his personal space.

Rei's a very in-your-face kind of fighter, but he likes to controls the ebb and flow of the exchange through aggression. He doesn't stay close to give his opponent an opportunity to get back at him.

Years undercover have taught him that while more than an arm's length of distance doesn't guarantee his safety, at the very least it gives him time to react. To willingly allow someone to be close to him is utter insanity, and uncomfortably intimate in a way he shouldn't ever be, with strangers.

Furthermore, dancing will mean splitting up from Hiro (unless they want to cause a scandal, and that's not the kind of publicity they want to generate tonight). Rei's already slipped up once tonight, would rather like to avoid a repeat performance.

Even if he wanted to, though, Hiro wouldn't be available. Because Akai has noticed them approach the dancefloor.

Rei's caught only glimpses of him throughout the evening, hiding in the shadows and scaring people off with a glare so grim it justified the reaper nickname all on its own.

But that darkness falls from his face as he's making his way over to the pair of them, eyes bright in the dimly lit area. It's like seeing the sun rise from behind the clouds, and Rei's definitely not staring at him, ignoring whatever Hiro just said.

For a moment, Rei gives himself over to the delusion that Akai is coming over, looking all eager like that, to ask him for a dance. Rei would have to decline, of course, because of they aren't alone, but still. It would be nice to be asked, to be wanted, by Akai, for real this time.

(When Akai doesn't bother with any of the women that give him longing looks.)

The closer the FBI agents gets, though, the more Rei feels like an idiot.

Because Akai's grin means trouble, and it's not reassuring in the least that it's directed at Hiro.

(Rei tries to push down the stupid spike of jealousy; he's very much aware, after all, that Akai's not interested in his best friend. He's only partially successful, but Amuro's smile withstands his inner turmoil.)

"Agent Morofushi, would you care to join me for a glass of scotch?"

That can't be good. The bar doesn't serve hard liquor.

By his side, Hiro straightens, picking up the very same threat to public safety. His best friend addresses the arising problem the way he does best, with a smile. Whatever Akai is up to needs to be contained, or at least supervised, as they're both well aware.

"Of course, agent Akai. If you'll excuse me, Furuya, I'll be right back."

.

"Is now a bad time, agent Furuya?"

At this point, he'll take anyone other than the cadet that seems like she's barely more than half his age, fluttering her fake eyelashes coquettishly. Even if he was interested in women - and if there wasn't already someone holding his heart hostage - her high-pitched voice, needily whining for his attention, couldn't be further from his type.

"Pardon me, miss." He doesn't even remember the girl's name, couldn't care less, and turns to look at his saviour. Barely manages to keep his poker face in time to not falter under a steely stare. "I promised officer Satou a dance earlier."

When it rains, it pours.

Still, she extends a hand to him, so, as Rye taught him so graciously several years back, he accepts and leads her to the floor, in time for a slow waltz to begin. Officer Satou may appear brash, but when dancing, her confidence is an asset. She follows his movements without much issue.

"You're a difficult man to get a hold of, agent Furuya."

She just has to rub it in every time she sees him, to show that she had the right hunch all along. Annoying, but respectable. If she wasn't happily engaged to a detective of the homicide unit, he would have tried to recruit her already.

"I'm quite busy, as I'm sure you understand."

She nods, briskly, swaying through the sea of bodies around them. At least with the slow tempo of the dance, they're unlikely to waltz straight into someone - or, more likely, have someone waltz up to them.

"Aren't we always?"

Her rhetorical question doesn't need an answer, but he replies in kind, weaving around a couple to turn a corner.

"You still owe me that talk - don't think I've forgotten your promise."

Rei hasn't. He has, however been conveniently too occupied to think about trying to schedule it. Even if he can bring Hiro for back-up, it's sure to rip open old wounds. He's not looking forward to it.

(But Matsuda's and Date's friends deserve better, from him. He hasn't even asked Hiro, because that would make it official. He should. He will.)

He nods.

"Relax. I know now is neither the time nor the place to discuss it, so don't worry about it, for tonight."

They effortlessly avoid collision with a pair of drunken dancers, swaying out of tune and out of lane. Rei doesn't let go of a relieved breath, but it's a damn near thing.

"If you say so, then I shan't."

She smiles, past him.

"Good. Instead, you will give me your address, so I can send you a wedding invitation. Takagi and myself are getting married in autumn."

Rei stiffens, loses his rhythm. Why would they want him there? It makes no sense. He should decline.

Amuro smiles, because that's the appropriate reaction to such an event, right? "I appreciate the thought-"

She interrupts him, drags him out of the way of a tumbling dancer.

"Don't you dare think for even a second about rejecting this offer. You owe me, and we owe you. You come, and we'll call it even. Don't make me go through your superiors - I will, if I have to."

Her face hardens.

"Besides, the kids will be there. They've been asking about you."

Just because Rei knows she's guilt-tripping him, doesn't mean it's not working.

She doesn't have to specify which kids - there's only one group of elementary school students that runs into the pair of homicide detectives often enough to be invited to their wedding. Really, them being there should be an argument against agreeing to come - the kids only ever knew him as Amuro, and, statistically speaking, people don't tend to like Furuya Rei much when they've met one of his disguises first.

He's intimately familiar with how it feels to lose a friend, though. Elena's disappearance still hurts, some nights, and he wouldn't wish that pain upon anyone else.

And while they are certainly a lot to handle, and a little annoying at times, it was kind of nice to spend time with the detective boys. Unlike his regular life, their cases were mostly harmless and quick to solve, and hey, that one time he even got to punch an ass.

A welcome break.

Rei finds himself smiling without really meaning to. Is horrified and delighted at once to find it's genuine.

The waltz has ended, and officer Satou looks at him expectantly. It's not like she's given him much of a choice, but he still waits a moment, considers his options.

Does he want to anger Satou Miwako? There's probably smarter uses of his time.

Though he doesn't feel like he owes her, she's raised a good point. Maybe it would even be nice. Weddings are supposed to be joyous occasions, right? He needs more of those in life. Maybe he gets to be selfish for once, accept a good thing.

It breaks something within him, to accept without putting up much of a fight.

(But it's too nice, this feeling of being wanted somewhere.)

"I will let you know where to drop the letter off."

He might have surrendered to her, but he's not giving up his home adress. Doesn't want her to be able to just show up, unannounced.

She smiles at him, like the cat that caught the mouse, even though he's only agreed to receive the invitation, not to show up.

He'll try, though.

"Good. Feel free to bring a plus one."

.

Rei doesn't see Hiro and Akai for about an hour.

The longer they're gone, the more restless he gets - the last time he only heard Akai's grin, and then the guy showed up with a rocket launcher to shoot down a submarine. It's a show of confidence and bad ideas and he's way too tired to deal with the fallout at this hour.

Rei's on his fourth glass of champagne, his feet hurt from running around all evening and then dancing for an hour, he's sweaty, the air's too stale-

Sudden cold drenches him, gives him barely enough time to brace himself before Mouri Kogoro, who just spilled his wine all over his dress shirt, crashes into Rei.

Maybe he's had a few too many of his own; because his first instinct is to reach for his gun and get the guy to back off, then demand damages for Bourbon's ruined suit.

(Bourbon doesn't exist anymore, never existed in the first place.)

A hand wraps around his wrist, presses it down over his heart, stopping Rei from completing the draw just in time. He struggles against it for a moment, then shoots a dirty look over his shoulder. Of course it's Akai who's holding him down, steadfast as ever.

Rei still tries to resist, for the sake of it.

Once, twice.

Nothing.

Akai's not budging an inch.

(A cold shiver runs down Rei's spine, quickly followed by a hot flush of arousal. Damn Akai, and his everything.)

"Causing trouble without me?" Akai's infuriating smirk is way too close, and definitely not helping to calm down the situation.

At least it's distracting.

Rei can think of at least six different methods to wipe that stupid smile off Akai's face, including, but not limited to, breaking his nose. Doesn't need his hands for that - he could just headbutt him, no problem.

Getting his head close to Akai's also appears in some of the other ideas. Most concerningly of which: he would really like to kiss the smile away.

His heart beats quicker, trapped as he is by Akai, is trying to free itself from Rei's chest and reunite with the one who holds it in his grasp.

(Can Akai feel his pulse? Can he tell what it means?)

Shit. Definitely too much alcohol.

People are staring at them - too many officers keenly attuned to the bloodlust that filled the small space between the four of them for a moment. Hiro appears from wherever he was hiding to pry Mouri off Rei, hold him steady.

Akai tugs his wrist down, insistently. Lets go disappointingly quickly, once Rei relaxes the grip on his weapon.

(Instead of disappearing, Akai's warmth seeps into Rei's heart, burns him from within.)

He keeps his mouth shut. There's too many stupid things he could say right now that would ruin all his efforts of the night.

Instead of his gun, Rei draws a handkerchief, uses it to dab at the wine stain rather ineffectively. That shirt is thoroughly ruined. Well. Maybe their cleaner can salvage it.

"Detective Mouri, are you alright?"

The high-pitched voice promises an earlier onset of the headache Rei's sure to receive come tomorrow morning. Great. Who let officer Yamamura attend this gathering?

"I am perfectly fine, thank you very much", is what Rei can make out from Mouri's slurred speech (and even that only because Rei spent way more time than he would have liked around the miserable creature that is the detective).

"I think you've had quite enough, sir. Why don't you head home?" While he says it to Mouri, it's clear from the sharp look Hiro gives Rei that it's mostly addressed to him.

"We'll settle this tomorrow." Rei manages to tone his glare down to frigid instead of murderous, and turns on his heel.

He's not willing to deal with any more of this nonsense, tonight.

.

"Do you need a change of clothes?" Akai asks, keeping pace with Rei without issue. Long-legged bastard.

Rei, of course, has planned for this eventuality, but he really can't be bothered with dressing up again for an encore of that performance. No, it's time to go home and rest. He's earned it. Though...

"Yours?"

Akai looks at him, deadpan. "No. The ones I stole from Kuroda, obviously."

Rei gives him a dirty look. "You think you're so funny, huh?"

They make their way to the garage downstairs, on foot.

"Positively hilarious, I've been assured."

"Whoever told you that, you'll want to get your money back from them."

Akai laughs quietly while he rummages through the trunk of his obnoxious red mustang. It's a lot fuller than Rei remembers, brown boxes of some kind stacked in it that he doesn't remember seeing before.

He'll need to ask Akai about them later, but for now, he has other priorities.

The stain is cold and wet and irritating. He really wants to get out of the soiled clothes. Hm. The trunk lid should offer enough protection from the cameras...

Rei starts stripping.

And if he's taking his sweet time, putting on a little show, well. Akai's the one who ran around all evening looking like he wanted to be eaten alive. It's only fair Rei pay him back in kind.

It's not like they haven't seen each other half-naked a dozen times before.

It's the cold night air that causes goosebumps to form on his skin. Not Akai looking at him more hungrily than that one time they shared Rei's bento.

He expects to have his change of clothes handed to him by the time he's done, but since that's not the case, he extends a hand. As flattering as it is to catch Akai staring, green eyes burning bright in the night, Rei's still freezing.

"I'm cold, Akai."

Taking his cue, Akai hands his clothes over.

"And clearly inebriated."

Rei slips into the too-large tank top, doesn't bother with the shirt. Opts instead for the cozy sweater. Much better. He hugs the fabric to his chest.

"Tipsy, at most."

Akai gives him a long-suffering look. What's with people seeing through him, today?

"Rei. Do you mind if I drive you back?"

Akai's eyes burn with undisclosed emotions. At least Rei hopes he's not looking too deep into it, again. But Shuuichi seems painfully sincere, sombre, asking for permission - when really, it should be Rei asking for a ride, should thank him for offering.

The house of cards stacked against him all evening crumbles under the weight of Akai's look. God. Rei just wants to rest, nestled into the sniper's side, while he looks at Rei like that. Talks, as if he matters. Holds him tight.

Akai gets up, takes a step closer.

"You know the way, don't you?"

It should be casual, carelessly callous, but it comes out too soft, instead. An admission of familiarity. He's given Akai the keys to where he's most vulnerable, because he trusts Akai won't abuse that privilege.

"Yes."

The word is small and breathless between them. So simple, and yet.

Rei lets the shiver run its course through him, this time. It's too late to pretend he isn't affected. Even if he can't bring himself to say the words, maybe Akai will understand if Rei just stops suppressing what he feels.

Akai closes the gap between them, wraps his arms around him. Rubs his back, pressure gentle through the knit fabric. How does he still think Rei's cold, when he's been set on fire? Idiot.

He melts into the embrace, warmth seeping through the suit's thin fabric. Takes a deep breath of the smoke and sweat and sandalwood that make up Akai's scents, today. Holds him too tight, creasing the suit.

Neither of them cares.

"Take me home, Akai."

.

Rei drifts in and out of consciousness on the way back, Akai's steady driving lulling him to sleep. He doesn't bother trying to resist his body's demands.

.

A cool breeze stirs him awake, as Akai opens the window and slides his keycard for the underground parking lot across the scanner.

He parks in Rei's space, and is left waiting.

And waiting.

Cozy as he is, covered by Akai's suit jacket for further insulation, Rei's not particularly inclined to move. At the prospect of getting out of the car and climbing three flights of stairs, a groan escapes him.

Akai's observing him, critically.

"Will you be alright by yourself?"

If he's being honest, Rei's doesn't feel all that drunk. He should grab a snack before bed and a painkiller in the morning, then he'll be good.

"Most likely, yes."

And that's it, isn't it? Akai's fulfilled his duty, and now he'll be off to his own home. The thought leaves Rei cold.

"What about you?" he finds himself asking, doesn't want Akai to go just yet. Besides, he's genuinely concerned; Akai's been taut as a wire most of the evening.

The FBI agent sighs, deep and long-winded. Tension bleeds out of him with every breath.

"Too many people. But I'll be fine."

He doesn't look fine. Looking into his eyes from up close, Rei sees, surprise surprise, how tired Akai looks. It's been a long day, an even longer night, and it's probably only his stubbornness that keeps him from falling asleep in the car.

He shouldn't have driven Rei around, like this. Should've headed home, himself. This is Rei's fault, and he doesn't like owing self-sacrificial idiots anything.

There's a very simple way to pay Akai back for his kindness.

(A very selfish way.)

It's nothing unusual. They've done this a dozen times over, locked up together, so Rei might as well ask.

Rests his hand tentatively over Akai's, still on the gear stick, to test the waters. He counts it as a win when the agent doesn't flinch, only looks away.

"Akai. Would you like to stay the night?"

(Rei knows how bad Akai's insomnia gets on a good day. And if today's interactions have rattled him, he can hazard a guess as to how bad off Akai will be.)

It's only payback. Nothing more.

His heart beats quicker in objection.

Akai moves his hand under Rei's, and for a split second, he fears he's pushed the other too far.

Relief floods him, when the other agent simply turns his hand around, laces their fingers together. Akai's grip would be enough to break his bones, if he tried; but he's just holding him, firm and steady.

Akai sighs softly in the space between them. Finally, he looks at Rei again. There's fear in Akai's eyes, fear and hunger and restlessness and the emotions are switching up faster than Rei can read them.

They settle, eventually, on longing. Rei shivers under their intensity.

"Yes."

A smile blossoms on his face, but he's seen Akai's idiocy from up close one too many times to trust it just yet.

"Will you?"

Just because he wants something, doesn't mean Akai will permit himself to follow that impulse, self-sacrificial bastard that he is.

(It takes one to know one.)

"Are you requesting I stay?"

Rei doesn't even pretend to consider his options. This is an opening, and while it's unclear whether Akai feels exactly the same way, the comfort they feel in each other's presence is very real. It will have to be enough, for now.

His answer comes a little too quickly, too eagerly.

"If you promise to shower."

Akai squeezes his hand.

.

Before he shoos the agent into the bathroom ("You're my guest, you're showering first."), Rei tugs at the ribbon, releasing Akai's curls. He ruffles his stupidly gelled-back hair, just on this side of roughly. There. That's much better. He wasn't quite looking like himself, before.

"Don't forget to wash your hair, too."

.

[03:57] Morofushi Hiromitsu: He got you home safe?

[04:04] Furuya Rei: Yes.

[04:04] Morofushi Hiromitsu: Let me guess. He's still there?

[04:06] Furuya Rei: ...yes.

[04:06] Morofushi Hiromitsu: Good luck.

[04:06] Furuya Rei: It's not like that.

[04:07] Morofushi Hiromitsu: Sure.

[04:10] Furuya Rei: You get home safe, too.

[04:11] Morofushi Hiromitsu: Eh, I'm still catching up with Micchan.

[04:17] Morofushi Hiromitsu: This bar is kinda seedy though, if I disappear, start your search here.

[Morofushi Hiromitsu has shared his location.]

.

He could get used to seeing Akai's shoes, neatly set side by side with his own.

Akai's jacket, draped over the kitchen chair.

The smell of smoke, lingering in his flat.

Akai, undressing in his bathroom.

Akai, waiting in his bed.

Akai, freshly showered, flushed and slightly damp, still-

Shit.

.

By the time he emerges from the shower, the edge taken off a little, Rei has managed to put himself back together, somewhat.

The fresh clothing helps. At least he's physically presentable. Mentally...

They've done this before. There's no need to be nervous.

Except there's a shift that makes all the difference. Before, there was always plausible deniability. One of them half-asleep, injured, otherwise unwell. Fine, Rei's a little drunk, but Akai came here of his own, free will.

God. Rei hopes Akai wants this, too, isn't just going along with his selfish desires.

His stupid heart panics, beating a staccato rhythm. If this goes on, he'll need to see a physician. Or maybe that therapist Hiro suggested.

Damnit. He's an adult and in control of his impulses. He can share a bed with Akai. It will be fine. They'll lay side by side, like responsible adults. He didn't buy the double bed with Akai in mind, but there's enough space for the two of them. They won't even need to touch.

He wants to, though. Badly. Shuuichi's so warm, so lovely to hold. If only Rei had never touched him. He can't ever go back to not knowing the smoothness of Akai's skin, the softness of his hair.

Shit. He's getting too worked up.

Rei grabs two glasses of water from the kitchen, and heads over to the bedroom.

(There's too much space for just himself. It's nice that he's not alone, tonight.)

He pushes down the bedroom door handle with his elbow, balancing the glasses, tries to be quiet. It's unlikely, but he was gone for quite a while, and if by some miracle Akai's already asleep, he wouldn't want to wake him.

The bed is empty.

Panic spears through Rei, freezes him in the doorway. Did Akai hear him in the shower after all? He wasn't that loud, right-

With a creak, the balcony door opens, and Akai pads back in, the smell of smoke intensifying. Ah. He was being mindful of Rei's house rules.

So considerate it makes his heart hurt.

The poor thing is working overtime as it is. It's highly unfair that with dishevelled hair and wearing an oversized pyjama, Akai looks so overwhelmingly cute. Rei wants to drag him into bed and eat him alive.

Damnit.

"Couldn't sleep", is all Akai says, stifling a yawn.

Rei sets the glasses down on the bedside table.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Akai gives him a dark look, shakes his head.

"Not tonight."

Alright. It's not like Rei can't relate, so he drops the matter. For some of the things they've done, they can only ever distract themselves. Rei can help him relax, if he's willing to play.

He steps up to Akai, raising his hands as if to hug him -

"Off to bed with you."

- and shoves him roughly, sending the FBI agent tumbling.

Not one to go down without a fight, Akai grabs his arm as he falls. They land in a tangle of limbs on the bed, Akai managing to roll to the side and try to get on top of him.

Rei can't have that, so he struggles against him. pushes his arm between them, hoists his hip up, and reverses the pin, straddling Akai.

Shit.

Akai's so beautiful beneath him, hair fanning out, eyes bright, breathing elevated from the brief altercation. Wide awake and smiling.

Licking his lips, eager to continue.

Rei could-

He wants to-

Gods help him.

This is too fast. It was just supposed to be a distraction.

He can feel Akai stir against him.

Rei freezes. This isn't how it was supposed to go.

(At least he doesn't have to question anymore whether the attraction is mutual. Isn't that great.)

Akai takes the responsibility out of his hands.

Weaves a hand into Rei's hair, drags him down.

Looks for permission in his eyes.

And then, Akai kisses him.

.

Sweater Weather AU masterpost