"Matsuda," Ryuuzaki's voice sounds from the computers. It is late afternoon, not yet dark, but still late.
Matsuda jumps up, almost eager to be of help to this great detective. "Yes, Ryuuzaki?"
The slumped-over form holds out a small, transparent plate. The plate is covered with the crumbs from his last piece of cake. "Could you please get me another slice of cake." It is a statement, not a question. Why do detectives have to be so... so... imperative?
"No."
Ryuuzaki turns in his chair to look at the stiff Matsuda, who's hands are clenched into fists at his side. "What do you mean 'No,' Matsuda?"
"I mean that I won't be the servant of the Task Force anymore. I'm tired of everyone taking advantage of me. I won't have it anymore!" He stomps out of the room, brushing roughly past a confused Ide, who had just come into the room and seen Matsuda's reaction to Ryuuzaki's demand for cake.
"What was all that about?" he asks Aizawa, sitting down next to the older man. He has a fresh cup of coffee in one hand, and a newspaper in the other. Laying the newspaper down on the table in front of them, he smooths out the front cover. The headlines show that there had been more killings that day. More than usual.
"Matsuda's rebelling."
"Oh." Ide notices the non-surprised expression on Aizawa's face. It's almost like the other man knew that Matsuda would do something like this. He will speak with him later, when no one else is within hearing distance. But for know, Ide sips at the coffee from the the mug held snugly in his hands.
It isn't until later, when Aizawa's lying his aching body in his bed, that Ide even says another word to the detective. He knocks gently and enters without Aizawa's permission. It goes ignored though, and Aizawa sits up in the bed. It's dark as midnight in the room; he can't even see Ide's outline. There's shifting on the bed and Aizawa blinks his eyes, hoping to see the man.
"Ide?"
As if to prove that it's him, Ide gives a short breath and pats Aizawa's arm, "Yeah."
"How the hell can you see? It's dark as midnight in here."
"I can't really see; I bumped into your bed a couple of times," Ide chuckles to himself and the other man realizes that he almost never hears Ide laugh.
Always a no nonsense man, Aizawa cuts off the laughter and says gruffly, "What is it, Ide? What do you want?"
" ... I was just wondering about Matsuda."
"You came in my room for that?"
"If I had asked you anywhere else, at any other time, Matsuda would've heard and rebelled more - against himself. You know how he is."
Aizawa grunts, "Yeah, well, he just got upset 'cause Ryuuzaki asked him for more cake. I don't get what the big deal is. We're battling a serial killer, and he gets mad because our best detective wants cake. That idiot."
Ide blinks in the darkness and says softly, softer than his voice has ever been, "I would get mad too."
"It's just cake."
"But everyday. We never ask him for anything else. All he wants to do is help, Aizawa. If Ryuuzaki's so good at solving mysteries, then why can't he figure that out?"
"He doesn't have time to worry about Matsuda. Ryuuzaki should only be spending time solving this mystery. But everyone wants him to do other things. Chief wants him to stop accusing Light, Matsuda wants him to ask for something besides cake, Light wants him to stop - well, for him to stop being Ryuuzaki. It's ridiculous!"
Aizawa takes a breath when he finishes talking, drawing it in and letting it out. It is ridiculous, the way everyone wants Ryuuzaki to do everything but his job. That's what he's here for, no?
"Sometimes I wonder if I'm the only one taking this Kira thing seriously," the flustered cop growls into the dark silence.
It takes Ide a minute to say something back, and when he does, it's not even relevant.
"What do you think that's like?"
"What?"
"A kiss."
" ... Ide, you know what a kiss is like. At least, I hope you have."
"That's not what I meant, Aizawa, I meant ... a kiss ... with another man."
" ... "
There's the sound of Aizawa taking in a breath. Ide sits, waiting in anticipation, and then -
"IDE HIDEKI, GET OUT OF MY ROOM."
"Wait - "
"Out!"
"But - "
"Out!"
"Hold on!" Ide shouts, jumping up from his seat on the edge of the bed.
Aizawa growls at him and hisses, "We've been on the task force together for a long, long time, Ide, but you've never hinted to me that you ... that you - you - that you swung that way!"
"I don't 'swing that way,' Aizawa, I was just asking."
"What makes you want to know?"
"I just ... Light and Ryuuzaki. Have you never thought about it Aizawa?"
The other glares into the dark, wishing he could see the man. "No, I haven't, now GET OUT." He leaps up from the bed and pushes Ide in what he thinks is the direction of the door.
But Ide won't stand for that. His hands grab Aizawa's arms, and his face comes close to the older man's. Warm, strong, coffee-smelling breath makes Aizawa wrinkle his nose, uncomfortable. "Ide, what're you-"
His voice is cut off when Ide's lips press against his own.
Aizawa isn't sure what's happening now, but he feels Ide's lips and he can't see. In the back of his mind, he wonders why he can't see and then it hits him - his eyes are closed. Realization is setting as a wave of adrenaline rushes over him. He's kissing Ide.
The older man's arms slowly lock themselves around Ide's waist, pulling the younger closer. So close that their chests rub against each other, fire shooting through their bodies.
After what seemed like forever, the two pull apart, both gasping for air. Though it was dark, Aizawa could see the smile on Ide's lips. "So that's what it's like." His arms, which were wrapped around Aizawa's neck, slowly retreat, pushing his body away.
"Oh no you don't." Pulling Ide into another kiss, Aizawa pushes the younger man onto the bed.
