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Place two grown men, who also happen to be enemies, together in a murder-filled universe for a week, and observe whether, amidst the constant adrenaline, display of wits and strength, they would eventually learn to appreciate each other by the end of their forced proximity.
The answer is they would, and that had been personally tested true by Edogawa Ranpo himself.
“Fuck—” the ginger-haired man above him grunted. “—God.”
“Aren’t I—ah—,” Ranpo’s sentence was interjected by a moan he failed to hold back. “Aren’t I technically?”
Chuuya’s hold on his waist grew tighter, digging into his skin. Oh, that would definitely leave a bruise. A pained chuckle escaped Ranpo. “It was just a joke, Mr. Fancy Hat.”
The mafioso's hand seized the neck of the man under him. Even during sex, Chuuya kept his gloves on, Ranpo smiled and grasped the hand on top of his neck. “What a—What a freak to keep the gloves on even during sex. Has no one else ever commented on that?”
“I would suggest choosing your words carefully,” the hand closes into Ranpo’s neck. “This freak is currently pounding himself into you.”
With a hand around his neck, Ranpo couldn't respond, but his fingers reached beneath Chuuya's gloves, his nails grazing the skin concealed underneath. The tighter Chuuya choked, the harder Ranpo clawed. As Chuuya sensed the force of Ranpo's scratching begin to lessen, he eventually released his grip. Yet, even as Ranpo gasped for air while being choked, Chuuya didn't stop his movements. A vivid, impossible-to-miss handprint adorned Ranpo's neck, and traces of skin were caught under his blood-stained nails.
Chuuya grabbed a fist full of Ranpo’s hair, lifting his bangs to reveal those green eyes, undoubtedly hazed with lust. "A god? Take a good look at whose sheets you're tangled in before speaking so recklessly again, smartass.”
“You really are no fun at all,” Ranpo winced as Chuuya pulled his hair, but he managed to maintain a smirk—until Chuuya abruptly stopped moving. "Alright, it's you! Jeez, now move already," he whined, unable to resist grinding against Chuuya for more friction.
Moving again, but at an agonizingly slow pace, Chuuya's voice adopted a raspy tone. "Who?” Clearly, this was tormenting him too.
Ranpo fought back the urge to roll his eyes. “Nakahara Chuuya, Nakahara Chuuya is—Ah fuck—”
The moment Ranpo uttered his name, Chuuya responded by targeting where it felt best, deep within Ranpo. And what is Ranpo if not prideful? He couldn’t let Chuuya be the only one doing the action, so Ranpo scraped his fingers across Chuuya's bare back and bit down on him whenever an overly embarrassing moan threatened to escape his lips.
So yeah, talk about learned appreciation.
-
Chuuya didn’t know why or how he and Ranpo ended up entangled in the sheets. Witnessing the detective’s ability firsthand was astonishing, and despite Ranpo's bratty nature, he did offer a few pointers to help Chuuya while they were trapped in the book. That didn’t explain how they ended up with Chuuya’s dick in Ranpo, but Chuuya also wasn’t the one to dwell on pointless questions once the deed was already done.
So they've had hookups, and most nights spent between the sheets occurred at Chuuya's, or in some random hotel if either one of them got desperate enough while the other was out of town. It happened more frequently than Chuuya should have logically liked, but logic was always crushed into nothing once Chuuya had Ranpo in his hands again—or apparently vice versa.
It’s always like quenching a thirst that is only temporarily satisfied, but never truly fulfilled. Chuuya thought that it was quite annoying; after all, they are from opposing agencies. However, what was even more bothersome was going out and seeking new hookup partners. It never felt as satisfying—something always seemed off, unlike how it would go during his time with Ranpo, and that was even more aggravating.
Their relationship began strictly as hookups. Over time, that line between them began to blur. Ranpo—Chuuya wondered how he even got his number—started texting him more frequently. Outside of just asking for hookups, Ranpo began sharing his day and the random thoughts inside his genius brain. Gradually, they progressed to the point of having occasional hangouts at cafes, zoos, parks—wherever Ranpo felt like exploring. For some inexplicable reason, Chuuya must have lost his sanity, as he found himself agreeing to Ranpo's every suggestion without fail.
And all that led up to the situation Chuuya found himself in now.
“Took you long enough.” Ranpo’s figure, wrapped in a blanket on his couch spoke up. The TV wasn’t on.
Chuuya closed the door to his condo with a click. He threw his keys onto the entryway table and took off his hat. “What is it that is so important that you made me drop my shift?” he grunted, never mind the truth was that Chuuya didn’t have much to do on the job anyway when the Mafia wasn’t at war with anyone.
“You didn’t have anything to do anyway,” the detective on the couch replied easily.
Chuuya made his way over, crossing his arms. "And you don't have a job? I thought the crux of the agency would be more occupied than being able to casually stroll into the house of an enemy."
"Oh, please. They may be stupider than me, but they aren't idiots. And if the police needed me to be on-site every day, then Japan might as well be doomed." Ranpo looked up to meet Chuuya’s gaze. "Relax, Mr. Cool and Bad, I was just bored."
"That is not why I gave you the key to my place," Chuuya deadpanned. "Did you really call me off work just because you were bored?"
"Yeah, I did," Ranpo admitted, showing no shame at all in his response. "Anyway, aren't you hungry?”
“No.” Chuuya was not hungry. Frankly, he didn’t even know what hunger was anymore. Ranpo wasn't one to ask useless questions, so Chuuya obviously understood what Ranpo had meant. But why should he—
"I am." And just like that, Chuuya was now expected to go ahead and cook for the little nuisance on his couch to whom he himself had given the keys to his living place.
"Ugh, okay, what do you want?" Chuuya pinched the bridge of his nose, mentally trying to soothe the blazing irksomeness inside.
Ranpo shrugged.
"…" Chuuya wished he could go back in time and punch the version of himself that had decided to become acquainted with Ranpo. "Okay, what else, 'your majesty'?”
“I feel like watching something,” Ranpo added.
Chuuya waited for Ranpo to name a show or a movie, but neither happened. He felt his eye twitch. “…What do you feel like watching?”
“Does it matter? We won’t end up watching it through anyway.”
The flower vase, outlined with a glowing red hue on the tea table in front of the couch, shattered into pieces. Chuuya took a deep breath, but Ranpo didn't seem fazed at all. Once Chuuya had calmed down enough, he reached for the remote control next to Ranpo and put on a random movie for him.
“Wow, a kids movie? Really?” Ranpo raised an eyebrow at him, teasing.
“Shut it, just watch your goddamn movie,” Chuuya gritted his teeth as he left Ranpo in the living room and marched into the kitchen.
Men are truly creatures that think with their lower bodies, and Ranpo, as innocent as he may look, was not an exception to that statement.
-
Chuuya didn’t end up cooking anything, but he did bring back a bowl of green grapes—the seedless ones. He set it next to Ranpo on the couch and sat down.
With a bowl of green grapes between them, they sat in silence as the random kids' movie continued to play on the TV. The shattered pieces of the vase still on the floor.
“This is like something a couple would do, isn’t it?” Ranpo broke the silence between them first. His eyes were fixated on the movie as he continued, “Going on dates, coming over, watching a movie, having sex—isn’t this what people in love do?”
“Probably,” Chuuya placed his arm on the sofa back, his gaze casting upward to the ceiling. “I wouldn’t know.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” Ranpo agreed, an irritating grin spreading on his face. “That’s why we are the way we are now.”
“What does that mean—”
“Why do you, Nakahara Chuuya, an executive of the Port Mafia and the strongest ability user of them all, continue to partake in this relationship with me, the linchpin of the enemy agency?” Ranpo posed a rhetorical question, which was unlike him. “You’ve had many chances to kill me in an instant, and that would surely make your boss very happy, but you never took it.”
“That—”
“And why can't Nakahara Chuuya, arguably one of the most handsome men in Yokohama, find another bed partner who could satisfy him as well as I do?” Ranpo's voice was light, as if he were discussing any ordinary topic.
"You stalked me?" Chuuya eyed him in disbelief. What happened to the agency being on the good side rather than the Mafia?
Ranpo immediately got defensive and protested, "I have better things to do than that! You were the one who called me one night, all drunk and smelly, and pulled me onto the bed without a single warning as you confessed what you did!" He covered his mouth with a small giggle. "It was funny though, to see the almighty Chuuya come to me at 4 am admitting how no one could compare to me in bed like it was a sin.”
"Enough!" Chuuya's face burned red, and he held a hand over his face to hide it. "Zip it! Just what are you trying to get at here?”
"You want to experience love, don’t you?" Ranpo slid off the blanket around him, revealing himself in one of Chuuya’s shirts and nothing else. "Or at least want to feel something closer to being human, and what better way is there to do that than to participate in the rawest, most intimate form of love between two people?”
Ranpo crawled his way onto Chuuya’s lap, over that bowl of grapes. Chuuya could feel the coolness of Ranpo’s skin even through the fabric of his pants. He clenched his fist, holding his arms close beside himself now. Chuuya stared down at Ranpo. “Last time I checked, you are a detective, and with me, a hookup partner at best, not a therapist.”
“Was I wrong?” Ranpo extended a hand to pick a grape from the bowl and ate it. His face scrunched up as soon as he bit into it, but he still swallowed the entire grape. “God, these are sour. You don’t know how to pick out fruits at the market?”
“Then why do you keep coming back?” Chuuya reversed the question. “You're smart enough to know all that, so why do you keep coming back?”
"Because I," Ranpo slowly traced his finger from the top of Chuuya’s neck to the buttons of his vest, "I am the same." Ranpo unbuttoned Chuuya’s vest one button after another, taking his time with the task. "Do you know how many cases I have assessed? Hundreds, thousands. And do you know how many of them concerned couples who were in love?"
Ranpo slid Chuuya's outer jacket off.
"Too many of them. Whether it's one of the two being the offender or the victim, the bond has always fascinated me," Chuuya’s vest came off next. "Crying over their dead partner, defending their clearly guilty partner, justifying why they've committed what they've done to their partner. It's all so interesting to witness, and yet, I've never been able to understand that feeling.”
The ribbon around Chuuya’s collar was pulled off.
“Despite how young I look, I am 26 now. Never been in love, never had a crush, so I will probably end up alone for the rest of my life,” with only Chuuya’s shirt in the way, Ranpo’s fingers made their way down as they unbuttoned. “And I’m fine with that, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to experience it when everyone else around me has.”
Ranpo slid off the final piece of top that Chuuya had on. “You won’t kill me, Chuuya, because I am convenient. You won’t replace me either, because no one else will understand that part of you like I do.”
“That’s not—”
“Dazai? Dazai can’t even muster up the courage to ask you for a hangout; you two can’t go a moment without an argument. Human? Dazai barely knows what he is himself,” Ranpo hooked his finger around Chuuya’s waist belt, tugging at it.
The mafioso fell silent, covering his face with his hand before raising it to run through his hair and exhale sharply. “For fuck's sake, you talk too much.”
Since Ranpo was still on his lap, Chuuya used his ability to fetch a grape into his mouth. Holding the grapes in between his teeth, he waited for Ranpo’s action. Like how Chuuya kept his gloves on during sex, Ranpo never allowed kisses to happen between the two of them. Chuuya always speculated it was for similar reasons as him: it's a restraint, a way to preserve the last vulnerable corner of their hearts, to hold themselves back in this wreck of a relationship, to remind themselves of who they are, who each other is—the last thread of their composure to keep even as their bodies intertwined.
Ranpo leaned in, accepting the invited kiss. Biting down on the grape, some of the juice dripped down both of their chins from the corners of their lips. Chuuya took off his gloves, moved a hand to the back of Ranpo’s head, and deepened the kiss, making it rougher, as if to compensate for all the times he couldn't kiss Ranpo.
“Liar,” Chuuya released Ranpo from the kiss, both of their lips bruised. “The grapes are sweet.”
“And I am sweeter,” Ranpo whispered, placing his hand on Chuuya’s chest. “So hurry up with this part alreadyyyyy.”
Chuuya placed his hands on Ranpo’s waist, flipping the raven onto the couch to be under him. “This wouldn’t have taken so long if you saved all that psychoanalyzing until after the fucking.”
“Touch me.” Ranpo gripped Chuuya’s neck, yanking the man closer to him.
From that close distance, Chuuya could smell the fresh body wash scent on Ranpo. The cheeky detective had this all planned out from the start.
“Ow!” Ranpo grimaced at the sudden bite on his shoulder. “Is this why Dazai always calls you a dog?!”
“Oh, now we are mentioning other men during this,” Chuuya picked up Ranpo and threw him over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes, heading for the bedroom. “Sure, I’ll show you how much of a dog I can be.”
The kid's movie playing on TV remained unfinished and forgotten, just as Ranpo said it would be.
-
Ranpo was not afraid of intimacy; that much was evident from the relationship he willingly engaged in with Chuuya.
What Ranpo was afraid of was being unlovable. It was true, what he had said to Chuuya, about overseeing the cases and not understanding the bond. But what was truer was the fact that Edogawa Ranpo had seen people around him in love and being loved, and he was never one of them. He didn’t understand why; he couldn't understand why.
It wasn't like he didn't put himself out there; he attended events, visited clubs, and explored what the supposedly vast dating pool had to offer. None of that worked. Not one person looked his way, and his heart never felt that so-called cupid arrow being shot through for anyone he met. People appreciated him, respected him, liked him, but never loved him. What was he lacking? It was something he couldn't deduce the answer to.
Eventually, as Ranpo grew older, he settled for the explanation that he just wasn’t capable of it. He didn’t like that reason, but with no other apparent explanation, he had to put a label on it for the sake of peace of mind. That way, his mind would stop screaming about it all the time, especially when he wasn't distracted by a case on his hands.
That was until he crossed paths with Chuuya. With a single glance at the guy, Ranpo could tell that they were the same, albeit for different reasons. That’s why when the chance presented itself to him, Ranpo took it. Just like how he was convenient to Chuuya, Chuuya was rather convenient to him too. They lived in the same world, and both of them would be more likely than not to either die for or on their job. When that time comes, the two of them would understand that it was simply fated to be from the start. Ranpo liked that there wouldn’t be any necessary explanations.
And Chuuya was perfect for him. Unlike Chuuya, Ranpo didn’t like control; it was the last thing on his mind when he already had to control himself from over-deducing everything and everyone around him. The pillar of the agency needed control so that it could hold everything up, which meant Ranpo had to maintain control every day to stabilize the agency for the bigger picture. Ranpo would be lying if he said he never wanted to throw everything away and set it all loose. But he couldn’t do that; Ranpo is someone with more to lose than to win if he lost the control that is so crucial to the reality he desired.
But Chuuya, he needed control to remind himself that he was himself. That’s why the gloves, the preference to use his legs rather than his hands, and why Chuuya never touched Ranpo directly unless they were being intimate—it all stemmed from his need to maintain control over himself. Chuuya loved control, but one couldn't have control if nothing was in chaos, and that was exactly what Ranpo was. And that was precisely why Ranpo was perfect for Chuuya too. He loved the roughness, the pain, and the tears that Chuuya brought.
With Chuuya, Ranpo is the chaos allowed to unwind, and with Ranpo, Chuuya is the control allowed to exist. Between the two of them, they were able to mimic something neither of them fully understood, so that both could at least pretend they did, in the rawest and most profound way possible: Love.
-
The bliss and tiredness from sleeping together with Chuuya was something Ranpo was probably addicted to. His muscles ached, his body could barely move, his eyes were heavier than boulders, and his brain was absolutely quiet and light. With it also came the feelings of satisfaction and validation, that of course Ranpo had chosen the best one out there as his enemy (?) with benefits.
"Enemies" wouldn't be the correct word, but after that kiss, Ranpo wasn’t sure what to exactly call themselves anymore. To be honest, Ranpo wasn’t thinking when accepting the kiss—his body was. But Ranpo had done too much talking for the day—and night too—his throat felt like it was on the brink of death after all the moaning, crying, and whatever other lewd sounds he made while Chuuya thrust all coherent thoughts out of his brain. Thinking about emotions, which he was never good with to begin with, felt overwhelming, so maybe he’d circle back to it another day with Mr. Good Stamina.
“Get up,” Chuuya came back from the showers in a fresh t-shirt and shorts.
“I can’tttttttttt,” Ranpo whined, though it came out as almost mere traces of sounds. “I can barely lift a finger after all that exercising.” He shut his eyes, fully intending to remain on the bed.
He heard Chuuya let out an exasperated sigh, and suddenly, Ranpo was lifted up in Chuuya’s arms. “Woah,” Ranpo's eyes opened in surprise. Luckily, Chuuya held him stable enough that there was no need for him to raise his hand to cling onto Chuuya.
“You need to shower, and you are not sleeping in that sweat and body fluid-covered bed,” Chuuya rolled his eyes, carrying Ranpo into the bathroom.
“…”
Ranpo didn't reply, and Chuuya didn't comment any further. He opened the door with his ability and then gently set Ranpo down into the prepared hot bath.
“You should’ve left me there on the bed,” Ranpo voiced, somewhere between a grumble and a relieved sigh from the contact with the bath, his eyes closed again yet not moving a single muscle to bathe himself. “Everything hurts too much for me to clean myself up properly.”
No counter-reply from Chuuya; instead, Ranpo took a peek and caught him lathering a cloth with body wash.
“I’m serious,” Ranpo bit the insides of his cheeks, his words now carrying a heavier weight. “You should leave while you can, before my head clears up,” he looked away from Chuuya’s direction, “before it’s too late”—for me, for us.
If Chuuya listened, Ranpo could pretend the kiss never happened, could pretend that he didn’t let himself go completely, pretend that the eased weight from his heart never happened, and that they were still enemies that had sex, plain and simple.
“This is my condo,” Chuuya said matter-of-factly, taking Ranpo’s arm in his hand and starting to wipe it down. “If anyone has to leave, it should be you.”
Ranpo momentarily forgot that, at the end of the day, Chuuya was Mafia, which meant that they liked to do what they wanted, and stubbornness ran freely in their blood. He dunked his head underwater and blew silent frustration bubbles onto the bathwater's surface. A gravitational pull brought him back up.
“Just keep doing what you’ve always been doing with me.” Chuuya took his other arm, his touches so gentle that Ranpo wasn’t used to them at all. “Until we can figure out what love is, or what we are, we don’t have to label whatever this is.”
Chuuya moved to wipe Ranpo’s face. “Isn’t this good enough for us?”
Yeah, Ranpo thought, yeah, this is good enough for us.
A usual nonchalant smile found its way back to Ranpo’s face. “Chuuya, you sounded so smart just then! It must be the greatest detective in the world rubbing off on you!”
“Edogawa Ranpo,” Chuuya groaned. “You are so fucking insufferable.”
He pressed down with slightly more pressure on Ranpo’s body and smiled when he earned an "ow" from the detective. “Serves you right.”
Nakahara Chuuya took pride in his abilities and was never one to back down from a challenge. Fortunately for him, Ranpo was nothing short of a challenge.
“Never change, Ranpo, never change.”