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Dining at an izakaya with Daisuke was a trip. He refused to touch anything that a normal person would consider a luxury, turning his nose up at the pages detailing fresh cuts of fish and grilled abalone, yet he scarfed down Haru’s order of karaage like a man starving. Haru guessed he could understand the logic. Someone with unlimited funds would be used to the highest of quality when it came to slices of tuna and mollusks, but fried chicken was best cheap and served along cold beer and watered down highballs.
The more surprising bit was that Daisuke was half the ass that he usually was when drinking. Alcohol did have a way of messing with people. For example, with Haru, it kept making him think that the slight pink flush that spread across the bridge of Daisuke’s nose and high along his cheekbones when he drank was cute. Maybe Haru liked Daisuke better in private moments such as this because he wasn’t flashing his fancy gadgets or openly flouting the practices of basic decency with that damn handsome smirk plastered across his face. He was a lot more relatable when his cheeks were puffed out from pieces of battered, deep-fried chicken, a smear of mayonnaise across the lower lip.
Haru stretched his arms over his head, then dropped them heavily as he sighed. “I’m done. You good or do you want something else?”
Daisuke hummed and dabbed a napkin across his mouth in a manner that Haru had only ever seen in dramas. “This is fine.”
“Cool.” Haru grabbed their order slip and walked it up to the pay counter at the front, batting Daisuke’s hand away when his partner tried to reach up to his ear. “Keep your fancy AI out of here. It’ll take us a hundred years to get out if some part-timer has to go calling the boss about bank deposits.”
Daisuke gave a small nod of understanding, and that was more than enough for Haru. He paid and grabbed a copy of the receipt, in case the accounting department approved it as an expense. They had talked case work for about five minutes, but he could always leave that part out when submitting the request.
As they left, Haru called out a loud parting farewell and slipped his hands into his pockets, while Daisuke quietly followed after him. “Do you want me to call you a cab or you fine with the train?”
The fact that Daisuke did not respond immediately, his sculpted brows furrowed too deeply for such a standard question, gave Haru a hint to what he actually wanted.
Clicking his tongue, Haru conceded to offering up the third option. “If you wanna come over, you can’t complain about the quality of the shows I choose to watch. Got it?”
“Did I complain last time?”
“No, but you—” It was the look. The judging look. Maybe it had been more a result of Haru’s drunken rambling about justice rather than his choice in entertainment media, but he’d been teased enough about his love of cop dramas by an ex before, and he didn’t feel like tolerating the same from someone who had not seen a single episode of Taiyou ni Hoero. “Whatever. Let’s go.”
The nearest station was only half a block down, but Haru still had to wait for Daisuke to buy a ticket from the machines. His fingers moved across the selection screen with a lot more certainty compared to the last time, when Haru had gotten fed up with waiting and swept over to show him how to do it. Rich boy could buy a company in a minute, but couldn’t buy a train ticket in ten. Funny how things worked.
“You should load a Suica onto your watch,” Haru suggested as they went through the gates, Daisuke tucking the paper ticket into the breast pocket of his jacket after it had been pulled through.
“A what?”
“A Suica. It’s the IC-card thing, but you can load it onto your phone or watch, if it’s the smart kind. Then you can swipe it over the gate and it’ll let you through automatically,” Haru explained, shrugging his shoulders. “Then you don’t need to worry about buying a ticket from the machines.”
“Is that what you do?”
“Nah,” Haru laughed. “Tried once, couldn’t figure out how, so I use the card. But it’s still easier and cheaper than buying a ticket each time. HEUSC or Suzue could probably set it up for you, though, if you asked them.”
It did not surprise Haru that Daisuke proceeded to do exactly that, activating HEUSC as they waited on the platform. The earring synced to the AI butler flashed, once in confirmation and the second time to unnecessarily inform Daisuke that his balance remained unlimited. Haru had his doubts about that one, but questioning it would probably be more trouble than it was worth.
Daisuke wasn’t exactly out of place on a packed late-night train but the way his eyes scanned the advertisements littering the upper portion of the train car betrayed him as someone who did not frequent public transportation. When the train pulled up at Haru’s station, he pushed Daisuke past the other passengers, getting out onto the mostly quiet and small platform.
“I’m gonna stop by the convenience store,” Haru said as they left the station, the lights of the FamilyMart across the street shining brightly in welcome. “Want anything?”
“No.” Despite the dismissal, Daisuke followed Haru inside, wandering the short, narrow aisles with mild interest.
Haru grabbed a few cans of beer and a packet of dried squid, having learned that the best way to keep Daisuke satisfied was with the simple, unpretentious stuff. Hell, maybe that was why he liked Haru.
“Oy,” Haru called over to Daisuke as he set his items on the register counter. “Are you grabbing something or not?”
Daisuke shook his head, though he did continue to stare at a selection of candies, his focus seemingly on a pack of gummy fish. Haru turned back to pay, his own gaze flickering to the wall behind the counter. Alongside the racks of domestic and foreign cigarettes were discreetly packaged condoms. With the way things kept happening whenever he and Daisuke were alone together, it might have been a good idea to—no. No, he was not about to start planning to bang his partner. He didn’t need to let Daisuke burrow into his thoughts any more than he already had. Haru paid for the beer, the squid, and nothing else.
It was a fifteen-minute walk from the station to Haru’s apartment, give or take. At this stage in his career, he could probably afford something a little closer, but moving was a hassle and he was comfortable where he was. The walk did him good on the days he couldn’t make it to the gym.
The streets were mostly empty, save for the figures of a few salarymen staggering their way home. There was only one more train scheduled after the one he and Daisuke had caught, leaving the night quiet and most of the windows they passed dark. Daisuke walked by his side without saying much, until they got to the staircase leading up to the second floor of Haru’s building. While Haru started up the stairs, Daisuke hung back. Haru had been about to snap at him in case he intended to ask if Haru really lived there again, only to see that Daisuke’s attention was midway down the street, where two figures were huddled together at a corner and obviously trying to avoid the street lamps.
Haru saw sweatpants, baseball hats and hoodies. Their posture and stance, shoulder to shoulder with backs to the main street, were the real attention-grabber. Swearing quietly, Haru shuffled back down the stairs, hissing at Daisuke to stay put. On another night and in a different neighborhood, he might have asked him to act as backup, but here Haru recognized those hoodies.
He moved quickly, darting around the corner and snatching the small envelopes the two neighborhood kids were attempting to exchange. They tried to scatter, but Haru caught them both, one by the collar and the other with a controlled kick to the back of the knee. One look was enough to confirm that it was two of the local high school kids, both of their expressions terrified. Good. A good scare was what was needed in this situation.
“Do I need to look in here or not?” Haru asked, keeping his grip tight and his glare hard.
“N-no, Katou-san.”
“In front of a cop’s house, are you kidding me?! Shoma, didn’t your mother just get elected to the school board? Huh?”
“It’s nothing—”
“Which of these am I keeping?”
They both went silent, eyes darting around in a vain search of an opportunity to run. Not that it would do much good, since Haru knew exactly where both their families lived.
“Which one?!”
Trembling fingers pointed to the top envelope, so Haru popped it open first. Inside was what appeared to be two hand-rolled cigarettes. Inside the second was cash, several thousand-yen bills stacked together. Haru tucked the first into the inside of his jacket and shoved the cash envelope into the hands of the kid he’d been holding onto. “If this happens again—ever—I’ll come at you with the badge and cuffs out, got it?!”
Haru let go and both kids scrambled off, sprinting down the street. He watched them disappear into the dark and huffed, rounding back to his building where Daisuke was waiting at the bottom of the staircase.
“A warning, inspector? Does that fit with your brand of justice?”
“Shut up,” Haru muttered, pushing past him. They were just kids, from good families that he knew, and hopefully they were the type to realize what a blessing the warning was. And if they weren’t, then Daisuke could go ahead and buy the name of their supplier off them.
Haru threw his house keys onto the kitchen counter the moment he got inside, kicking his shoes off into the corner of the entranceway. He kept the door open with the heel of his foot until Daisuke got inside, then shed his jacket as he made his way into his apartment. Blissfully, Daisuke did not make any more unnecessary remarks while Haru washed his hands and face, and quickly cleaned up his bedroom so they could sit down to drink and chew on dried squid.
Two mouthfuls through the first can of beer, the silence humming through the apartment began to chew away at Haru. He grabbed the television remote and turned it on, trying not to laugh when he saw that an episode of 24 Hour Police Close Contact was on and featuring what appeared to be the arrest of a few foreigners in the seedier part of Shinjuku. The charge was for drug possession.
Haru clicked his tongue in irritation, whereas Daisuke had the nerve to chuckle.
“What’s so funny?”
Daisuke smirked and leaned back, looking way too cool for someone who had a stick of dry squid sticking out of the corner of his mouth. “It really is not that bad.”
“What is?”
“Marijuana.”
“Huh?!” He had to be kidding. Kambe fucking Daisuke, police detective and heir to one of the world’s largest conglomerates, was trying to tell his cop partner that he did not consider drugs to be a heavy charge. “You’re joking.”
“That is not my brand of humor.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t particularly find it funny either.”
“Japan puts too much weight on something no worse than alcohol,” Daisuke stated, picking up his beer and taking a slow, pointed sip. “Other countries have demonstrated that when properly regulated, it is far more of a net benefit than a cause for alarm. Japan harms more than helps itself with its archaic views on drugs.”
Haru narrowed his eyes and reached across the table, shaking Daisuke’s can of beer. It sloshed heavily, nearly full. So he wasn’t drunkenly talking out of his ass. Then again, they had shared quite a number of drinks at the izakaya already. “Yeah, well, in this country, it’s still a crime. And those kids were going to ruin their future and their family’s reputations if they had gotten caught.”
Daisuke’s smugness did not wane. “They did get caught, inspector. You were the one who let them go. By your logic, are you not contributing to the drug crime if you neglect to arrest them?”
“That’s—” Haru glared, jamming a finger in Daisuke’s direction before realizing he did not have an adequate rebuttal formed. “That’s different.”
“Because you are an exception to the rule?”
“No—”
“Or they are, because you know them? Does their connection to you make them immune from the law?”
“Big talk for someone who buys his way through investigations.”
“I never claimed my methods were moral. Only that they are effective.”
“So what’s your point? That I should have had those kids thrown in jail?”
“In my opinion, you made the right decision. Those boys are not your responsibility. Thus, you should not let their indiscretions affect you, even if it does mean holding a double-standard.”
“They shouldn’t be doing drugs.”
“It’s just pot,” Daisuke laughed, the sound oddly melodic despite the curtness of it. “As I stated, it is no worse than alcohol. And we’ve been drinking all night.”
“Yeah? How the fuck would you know?” Haru muttered, muting his words against the aluminum of his canned beer.
The silent, malicious grin that served as Daisuke’s response had Haru sputtering his drink, throat and chest seizing up as he inhaled liquid. He coughed, smacking the center of his own chest to clear his airway, and scowled.
“You can’t be serious… You’re a cop.”
Daisuke shrugged. “I’ve become a cop recently. Haven’t you ever been curious?”
“No.”
“Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” Daisuke drawled, undoing the top few buttons of his shirt and skimming his fingers over his collarbones. “You seem to say no to a lot of things that you really want...”
If Haru glared any harder, he was going to burst a blood vessel. Daisuke was infuriating, in so many ways, and now he had the nerve to try and call Haru out. Smug bastard. Where was the cute, quiet Daisuke from last time, or did his veneer persist until washed off by a hot bath and covered in a loose, borrowed hoodie?
“This isn’t about you.”
“No, it’s about you,” Daisuke responded, his gaze flickering to the foot of the bed, where Haru’s jacket had been discarded. “Would you like to try it, inspector?”
No, Haru did not want to try. He was fine with the beer, even if the slight buzz he’d built up at the izakaya had faded between there and the adrenaline of catching a couple of teens trying to get away with something dumb. He wasn’t stupid. Even if Daisuke didn’t consider weed to be a worthy offense, Japanese law dictated the complete opposite. “Is that what you got up to in Europe?”
“Amongst other things,” Daisuke responded, the crooked smile spreading over his lips vague in nature. “May I show you, Haru?”
The way his name left Daisuke’s mouth was distracting. The second syllable purred off his tongue, his deep voice beckoning like the worst kind of temptation. A few more beers and Haru might have tripped over his own feet just so he could catch the letters as they fell from Daisuke’s lips, groaning into the kiss he couldn’t stop himself from claiming. Instead he steeled his jaw and rooted himself to his spot, refusing to give an answer.
That, however, turned out to be a mistake.
Before Haru could blink or yelp out a protest, Daisuke was on him, fingers wrapped around his wrist as he pulled Haru from the bedroom. Haru’s socked feet dragged across the tatami, toes curling under with a momentary twinge of pain. Daisuke had grabbed the jacket, too, and shook it open, removing the envelope with the hand-rolled joints.
The door to Haru’s shower room opened and shut, Daisuke keeping a firm grip on Haru as he jammed opened the small window above the bathtub.
Haru darted in and slammed it back shut, hissing at Daisuke. “The entire neighborhood is going to smell like that shit!”
“Would you prefer your entire apartment to smell like it?”
Again, Haru did not answer. Neither did he stop Daisuke from recracking the window, while the overhead fan whirred quietly in the background.
“Relax, inspector,” Daisuke said, releasing Haru’s wrist as he leaned back against the bathroom wall. He took one of the joints in hand and produced his lighter from one of his pockets. “You act as if you’ve never broken the law before.”
“I haven’t.”
Daisuke scoffed, his movements languid and casual as he placed the joint between his lips and ignited the tip with the flame from his lighter. “Speeding. Jaywalking. Littering. Streaming some music or a movie that you didn’t pay for.” He paused, his full lips pursed together as he inhaled, slow and deep. His dusty blue eyes were trained on Haru’s, his gaze unrelinquishing. “Never?”
Smoke spilled from his mouth, wisps curling in a heady grey. The smell hit Haru immediately, strong and unpleasant. He wrinkled his nose, taking a step back only for the heel of his foot to hit the wall of the bathtub. “That’s—”
“Different?” Daisuke asked, echoing Haru’s earlier protest. He took the joint from his mouth and held it out in offer. “I assure you, Haru. It is not.”
Haru hesitated, his hands balled into fists at his side. It was too late to object now. Not like he could report his partner for smoking pot in his house—and even if he did, he doubted Daisuke would face any sort of repercussions for it. The knot building in his stomach twisted as he lashed out and grabbed the joint, sticking it in his mouth before he could change his mind and throw it down the bathtub drain.
Daisuke grinned like a Cheshire cat, leaning in to relight it for Haru. “Do you know how to smoke?”
“Yeah,” Haru muttered, not bothering to provide any more details beyond that. He had smoked cigarettes a handful times starting in high school, though he was not going to admit that to Daisuke and help him prove his point. He’d quit during his police training and not considered going back. This was something entirely different, though.
The first inhale was a small one, but the unfamiliar and musky taste made him cough as soon as it hit the back of his tongue. Haru cleared his throat and scrambled to recover, lest he give Daisuke more reasons to find amusement in the situation. He took the second one all the way into his lungs, the smoke heating through him like smoldering embers, but held it in for a bit too long. Haru coughed, smoke puffing from his mouth in spurts while Daisuke chuckled at his failed attempt.
“Shut up, Kambe.”
“I didn’t say a word, Katou.”
Haru did not know how it was supposed to feel. It did not impact him immediately, leaving them standing in Haru’s cramped shower room in the haze of smoke that wasn’t being filtered out quickly enough by the fan or the open window. Instead, he watched Daisuke take back the joint, feeling the tips of his ears burn as his eyes followed full lips and the smooth confidence with which Daisuke carried out everything that he did.
“Come here,” Daisuke said and when Haru did not move, Daisuke stepped toward him. He slotted himself in against Haru’s chest, slipping one of his legs high between Haru’s thighs.
Once again, Haru found them to be too close to one another. Like this, he could smell the cologne on Daisuke’s skin, sandalwood and cedar mixing with the sweetness of cigar tobacco and the distasteful stench of weed smoke. Even the burnt yellow of the old bathroom light couldn’t dampen the sharpness of his good looks, nor the plushness of his parted mouth.
Daisuke took another long, slow drag, his cheeks hollowing out as he breathed in the smoke and held it there. With his other hand, he took hold of Haru’s chin and pushed his thumb across to the center of Haru’s lower lip, where he hooked it in and pried Haru’s mouth open.
As he tipped up, their noses brushed, Daisuke guiding Haru’s face toward him until their lips met, firm and open. He pushed smoke into Haru’s mouth with his tongue, looping an arm around Haru’s back to hold him in place. Haru let it fill his lungs and as their eyes met through the proximity of the laced kiss, Haru felt it hit him.
A slow, steady hum weighed down his head, and if he closed his eyes, it would be like being underwater. Daisuke’s mouth left his, but Haru wanted to pursue the tingling in his lips and vibrate as it spread through his entire body. He didn’t need to ask for it, however, because moments later Daisuke was repeating it, making the faint haze of smoke blossom between their mouths as it escaped the seal of a haphazard kiss.
The bathroom lights blurred and the walls went slightly out of focus. Haru’s body was heavy, but the arm Daisuke had around him supported him without strain. They exhaled cloudy traces of grey smoke, their breaths and mouths clashing in a warm flutter. Haru was sure that if he filled the bathtub, it would be like sinking into the hot, rippling minerals of an onsen. He could melt in the widening space, like bitter chocolate, with the heat and rigidity of Daisuke’s body moving against his own.
Haru trailed a hand up Daisuke’s chest, snaking it over the curve of his shoulders to the back of his neck. He sought out another smoke-tinged kiss, feeling the rumble of a groan against his tongue.
“Does it feel good, inspector?” Daisuke asked, pressing the wet end of the last bit of the joint against Haru’s mouth, his fingers framing Haru’s lips as Haru took one last hit before the paper and the dried cannabis burnt out.
The inside of Haru’s bathroom and the lingering wisps of smoke were the same dusty blue as Daisuke’s eyes. Haru hummed in response, his mouth dry and his tongue like lead. Daisuke’s self-satisfied chuckle rolled over him like quiet thunder. “Y-yeah…”
It felt even better when Daisuke dropped to his knees, his hands on Haru’s belt. Metal clicked against metal, then struck the hard wall of the tub. Cool air washed over Haru’s skin as Daisuke stripped his lower half bare, the goosebumps chased away seconds later when Daisuke’s mouth met his half-hardened cock.
The cavern of Daisuke’s mouth was hot and wet, and he gripped Haru’s hips with enough force to leave fingertip-shaped bruises. Haru hissed as Daisuke swallowed around him, sucking him in until Haru was fully hard between his lips. If he closed his eyes, his head spun with the same type of back and forth lull caused by a long day out on the water. So he kept them open, his fingers gripping into Daisuke’s sleek black hair, the strands stiff with styling product and coarse against Haru’s callouses.
It was all too much at once. Haru’s entire body was alight, droning to the same rhythm that Daisuke moved his head. Through the haze, Haru watched himself fuck Daisuke’s mouth, thrusting gently and pulling Daisuke’s head in to meet the movement of his hips. He was already overwhelmed, teetering on the edge of folly, when Daisuke had the nerve to hum around him. The vibrations ran through Haru’s cock and spread to the tip of his tongue.
Haru swore out an apology as he thrust deep, keeping a tight grip on dark hair as Daisuke’s nose hit the curls at the base of Haru’s cock. Daisuke’s nails dug into Haru’s hips in response, but he barely felt them, moaning as he spilled his seed down his partner’s throat.
He heard Daisuke cough and spit after pulling off, and dropped down to join him on the cool bathroom floor. Taking Daisuke’s face in both of his hands, Haru kissed him with clumsy haste, tasting the cocktail of cheap beer, weed smoke and cum on his tongue. It was far from pleasant, and yet Haru still pursued it, wanting to make Daisuke moan as he palmed at the tented erection beneath the tailored fabric of his trousers. Fuck, exactly how crazy did the rich boy intend to drive him?
They lost the rest of their clothes, with Haru yanking open and slamming shut the bathroom door in order to toss them out. They washed the smell of the smoke off each other’s skin, Haru skimming his open mouth up the length of Daisuke’s neck, not caring that he was leaving marks as he jerked his partner off under the spray of water that was too warm.
Haru kept the bathroom window open and the fan on after they stumbled from the shower, nude and still pressed up against one another. Droplets of water marked their trail from the bathroom to Haru’s bed, where they left the pillowcases and the bedsheets damp as they mapped each other’s bodies with their hands and lips.
He wasn’t sure when it was that the drowsiness took over and sent him plunging into darkness, but Haru awoke to strong morning sun, still naked in his bed and the limited space on either side of him empty. He groaned as he sat up, his body stiff and his stomach empty and ravenous.
By some good grace, Daisuke had not vanished to sleep in the bathtub this time. Instead, he was dressed in the same sweats and hoodie Haru had lent him last time, doing something over the kitchen stove.
Haru’s head remained blanketed in a light fog, his steps sluggish as he left the bedroom. The air in the apartment was stale and carried the essence of their overnight indulgence, the evidence less than pleasant. Haru threw open every window he could find, downed some headache meds, then found and flushed the remaining joint before shuffling back into the kitchen to see what Daisuke was up to.
He was cooking. Kambe Daisuke was cooking breakfast—a French omelette, by the looks of it—and there was already a pot of fresh pour-over coffee sitting beside the sink.
Haru was impressed. “You know how to cook?”
“HEUSC is guiding me.”
Haru scoffed, trying to hold back laughter for a brief moment before giving in and letting it sound freely. “So drugs and money you know, but breakfast is a struggle?”
“Are you saying it looks bad?”
As surprised as Haru was, the AI butler apparently made for a decent cooking instructor. At least, going by appearances. The omelette was holding its shape, fluffy and supple. “No, but you used a metal spatula on a Teflon pan, so I’m pretty sure you owe me a new one.”
“HEUSC—”
“Uh, no.” Haru darted in, covering Daisuke’s earring with his hand, even though he doubted that would make a difference. “I don’t need you to buy me the whole damn company. Just a single, simple pan from Amazon would do.”
“You want me to buy you the rainforest?”
Haru gaped at Daisuke, disbelief swelling into an outburst inside his chest and—Daisuke was smirking. A joke. It was a joke. Since when did Daisuke joke?
“It’s too early for this,” Haru grumbled, grabbing two mismatched coffee mugs from the overhead cupboards and going to the sink to fill them.
“For someone who claims to have high morals and says that it’s ‘not all about the money’ you seem to be fairly corruptible at all times of day, inspector. Perhaps, I should consider a partner with stricter ethics.”
Haru rolled his eyes and passed Daisuke a plate onto which he could transfer the omelette. He had already topped off the coffee cups and taken two pairs of chopsticks from the kitchen drawers. “I think it’s too late for that, Daisuke-kun.”