Work Text:
"Balance: Unlimited."
Haru has grown to despise the AI butler's voice, a constant reminder of not only how fucking broke he is, but that he and Daisuke have very different interrogation tactics and definitions of justice. Even if they've had conversations about how much money the billionaire throws around, and even if his grandmother has scolded him about it, Daisuke continues to give money for information as if it were for charity.
What pisses Haru off even more is that it actually works. Of course it does. What criminal wouldn’t rat out their friends for a large sum of money?
Daisuke puts in half the effort as Haru does and yields the same results. Quite frankly, Haru thinks that it's bullshit. Not that his opinion even matters. The police department only cares about putting away bad guys, not about how they get there.
What's possibly even worse is how fucking smug Daisuke is after every interrogation he completes. His stupid, handsome smirk that makes Haru's heart pound - well, it would make his heart pound, if he was some lovestruck fangirl. Which he is not.
Today is no different as Daisuke transfers a chunk of money to the person sitting across from him at the table. The informant blinks down at their phone and gasps in shock, exclaiming about how quick the transaction was.
Haru scoffs, his hands curling into fists as his sides and he pushes through the door out into the hallway as Daisuke leaves the interrogation room.
He meets Haru’s intense glare with disinterest, arching a well groomed brow as he rolls the sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows. The interrogation rooms have always been set to a warmer temperature to make the suspects sweat and hopefully get a quicker confession, though it’s yet to prove its effectiveness.
“Is there a problem, Inspector Kato?” Daisuke asks, pulling Haru from his racing thoughts of “how can someone’s forearms be so attractive?” and “since when have snooty rich men been my type?”
Maybe Daisuke is just everyone’s type.
Haru grunts to himself, shaking the dumb thought from his head.. “Come with me,” he grumbles, pushing past the other man to lead him somewhere more private.
They end up in the stairwell and not for the first time. Daisuke leans against the railing, one ankle casually crossed over the other as he slides a cigar out from the case he keeps in his pocket.
“Is there an issue?” Daisuke questions once his cigar is lit.
Haru stops pacing and finally turns to him. “Yeah, there is! You!”
Daisuke blinks, taking a drag before speaking again. “Me? What have I done?”
Daisuke stares blankly at him, waiting for an explanation, and the older detective stumbles over his words as he tries to elaborate. "Y-you just-" he pauses for a second, "All you do is use your big, bottomless wallet to do all your work for you, and it's not right! I don't like it. And you know I don't like it, but you do it anyway!"
When Haru sees an amused smirk spread across Daisuke's mouth, it irritates him even more. "You do what you want, when you want, and you always have that dumb, stupid, charming smirk on your face and it just makes me wanna-"
Haru cuts himself off with an angry growl, stepping forward to grab the front of Daisuke's dress shirt. The next thing he does takes them both by surprise.
He angrily plants his mouth on Daisuke's, their eye contact never breaking. A bright flush spreads over Haru's cheekbones at the realization of what he's done and finally forces himself to pull away, his heartbeat pounding loudly in his ears.
"Fuckfuckfuck," Haru stutters, threading a hand into his hair as he stumbles back a few steps. "Please forget that happened. Oh God, I can’t believe I just kissed you.”
Daisuke stays quiet, frustratingly calm as he smooths out his tie and the front of his shirt and meets Haru's eyes again. "I'd hardly call that a kiss," he comments, taking a confident step forward.
As Haru begins stammering incoherently, Daisuke chuckles and reaches up to cup the back of the other man's neck with his free hand, and yanks him down for a proper kiss. Haru goes rigid under his touch, but it doesn’t discourage the billionaire who continues to move his lips over the blond’s.
Only a few seconds tick by until Haru allows himself to reciprocate , tilting his head to the side and parting his lips to allow their tongues to mingle. He releases a content sigh through his nose as Daisuke backs him up against the wall, effectively pinning him in place. His hands curl into the sides of the man's shirt, uncertain of what he should do with them.
The kiss is over all too soon and when they pull away, Haru finds himself breathless and wanting more. Their lips are inches apart and Haru thinks about how easy it would be to dive back in for another.
Instead he clears his throat and steps away from Daisuke.
“You taste like an ashtray,” he states.
With that, he pushes past the other detective and heads back to the office, trying to ignore the tingling on his lips.