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Little Cold, Lot of Warmth

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When Kid slip in through the window, he can hear the music echo on a loud volume from headphones. He creep over to the bed, pick up the iPod that lay buzzing between the crook of the other boys cheek and the pillow. Heiji stirr lightly, and when the volume of the music is turned down and finally turned off, he awake from his slumber. He peek up at Kaito through sleep-messy bangs, and the Kid nuzzle his nose against it.
“Hi.”
The murmur is low, and Kaito almost miss it. But he hears, and he smiles into the soft hair. “Hi.” he reply, and move to press a soft kiss to the others lips.
“'w'd't go?” Heiji ask in a murmur, while Kaito move underneath the sheets, clothes discarded on the floor. “Not it.” is the low reply, and he wrap an arm around Heiji as the detective cuddle up against him. “You're burning up, Tantei-han.” he say. Heiji give a small, halfhearted huff. “Blame Kazuha.”
The tip of his nose is cold when he rub it against Kaito's bare skin, but the phantom thief says nothing about it. Only hold his detective close, and he feel calm, even though Heiji is down with a fever because Kazuha dumped a bucket of iced water over his head, and he is in the house of the detective that tried to catch him at the heist just a little less than an hour ago. Because he is content with Heiji. During times like this, they are not thief and detective, only lovers and boyfriends.
Even if it all was a secret.