Work Text:
It started with a rock.
Admittedly, Saguru thinks to himself, picking up the 120-carat diamond with delicate gold filigree, it’s a very expensive rock.
The Gossamer Crown is a gaudy piece that exudes a touch of refinement, its many facets catching the light to throw out a shower of rainbows. Saguru tilts it this way and that for one minute and 24 seconds, admiring the craftsmanship, before placing it back upon his nightstand and carefully dusting off his fingerprints.
He will hand it over to Division Two tomorrow morning, then perhaps have a chat with Kuroba come Monday in regards to breaking into his house and leaving priceless jewelry. He is not an errand boy, after all, and would loathe to be delegated as such.
————————————————————————
Saguru returns sin diamond, greeting Baaya where she bustles in the kitchen, preoccupied with lunch. Yes, he would like some finger sandwiches, thank you. Yes, Watson has already had her flight of the day. No, he really hadn’t needed to wait for the car to be fixed, the trip by subway had been… enlightening.
He makes his way to his room, closes the door, and sighs in relief.
Enlightening.
His mind set on having a shower, he begins to pull off his scarf, approaching his closet and carefully picking out a set of night clothes; yet, as he passes his nightstand, something atop his prized A Study in Scarlet gives him pause.
Another rock.
No matter how closely Saguru scrutinizes the surroundings, he cannot spot any traps that might set off should he pick it up, so he does just that. On the surface, it looks mundane, palm-sized and lacking standout features, but the smoothness and sheen of its surface, with not a single scar or discoloration, makes it a wonderful specimen of a rock. Tiny sparkles glitter like so many stars, brought down to be embedded upon its surface.
Curious. Saguru sets it back down and moves for his shower, deciding that he really ought to have a talk with Kuroba about leaving rocks in his home.
(When he comes back, hair dripping with water and towel slung over his shoulders, he moves the rock to a shelf above his bed. For the safekeeping of evidence.)
————————————————————————
In school, Kuroba seems strangely determined to avoid so much as looking at him, sticking close to Nakamori like a burr. It had gotten to the point where even she had begun to complain, but alas, what Kuroba wants, Kuroba gets. Frustratingly enough, their newfound inseparability does not dissuade the magician from turning tail the moment Saguru moves toward them; he simply latches onto someone else, or a crowd of someone else-es, and then he is creating magic and there is no opportunity for Saguru to insert himself amongst the hemming and hawing of their classmates.
(He does keep a close eye, however. These parlor tricks may not measure up to KID’s, but there is a certain kind of magic indeed in the way Kuroba’s eyes sparkle, in the way those deft fingers create illusions and miracles, day after day. It’s hard to look away when Kuroba sparkles so brightly.)
Needless to say, he does not get to speak to Kuroba. That does not stop him from waking up on Wednesday morning to find another rock by his bedside.
This one has a white base and a black-blue marbling of spiderweb thin cracks, as if the dark is seeping into the light and melding into one. As if poisoning it into a muted grey. Saguru runs his index across the largest, right down the center, and finds it impossibly beautiful.
This rock also goes to the shelf.
————————————————————————
Time passes. The rocks do not stop coming, and soon Saguru has amassed a fairly sizable collection, different sizes and shapes and colors. A night blue with thin white streaks. A citrine with a frosted glass appearance. A geode filled with purple-gold crystals.
(Which, where did Kuroba even find that? It boggles Saguru’s mind to have somehow come into possession of what is no doubt a collector-grade amethyst geode, one that – after consulting Google – could very well sell for several hundreds of pounds.)
But even that one is secondary to his favorite marbled stone, center stage and surrounded by all his gifts.
————————————————————————
“Kuroba-kun, are you free to chat?”
Without so much as a glance, Kuroba hops off the desk, sprints the short distance to the window – ignoring Nakamori’s exasperated Come back here right now, Bakaito! – and bodily throws himself out.
The conversations of their classmates barely pause.
Nakamori and Saguru share a glance. “Aoko is really sorry about Kaito’s behavior,” she sighs, the picture of a tired warrior. “Aoko has no idea why he’s avoiding you so much.”
“No worries, Nakamori-san.” Saguru smiles genially, inclining his head. “Thank you for trying to distract him.”
No matter. If Kuroba doesn’t want to tell him, then he will simply deduce the reason himself.
————————————————————————
An understanding does not begin to form in Saguru’s mind until several nights later. It is after dinner, he is having some strawberries, and the program playing on TV is National Geographic.
He watches with mounting interest as a male penguin gives a pretty rock to a female. “A courting gift,” drones the narrator. “Upon accepting, the female places it in her nest, displaying it proudly.”
The male steps inside to begin preening her. Saguru bites into a strawberry, and thinks about all the rocks on his shelf.
————————————————————————
“Kuroba-kun,” he greets.
Kuroba tries to run. Alas, Nakamori beside him grabs his arm, pulling him back. He gives her an incredibly put-on, betrayed look, and she smiles kindly.
“You will speak to Hakuba-kun.” Her tone brooks no argument.
It’s frankly quite terrifying, and Saguru quietly resolves to never cross her. Kuroba wilts under her gaze, and Saguru’s respect for her increases by two-fold.
“Good,” she simpers, and picks up her bag. “Aoko will be watching the window. If you jump out…”
Kuroba’s frown is partially hidden in his scarf, and he scuffs the floor with the tip of his shoe; but, eventually, he relents. Satisfied, she joins Koizumi and the rest of the class in streaming out the classroom doors. The red-eyed girl turns to give Saguru a look, her lips quirked in the corners; he’s not sure what it means, but he nods anyway, and the pair disappear into the hallway.
The late-afternoon sun filters through the curtains, illuminating the dust motes in the air. Its light plays with Kuroba’s hair, turning it molten chocolate, messy and untamed. It shifts as Kuroba finally tears his gaze away from the door to land squarely on him, sharp and sky blue.
“What do you want, Hakubaka?” He shoves his hands deep into his pockets, rocking on his heels with an air of nonchalance. There’s a small crease between his brows, as if he really is none the wiser as to why Saguru cornered him this lovely afternoon.
Saguru reaches into the front pocket of his bag. Kuroba locks onto his movement, and tenseness bleeds into surprise at the sight of a rock sitting, innocuous, in the detective’s palm.
“Here.” Saguru holds it out. “A gift.”
Kuroba reaches for it, fingers barely brushing Saguru’s skin as he takes it and holds it close to himself. “You’re giving me a rock,” he deadpans, and cradles it gently. “A literal rock.”
“You’ve been rather fond of them lately.”
Kuroba looks at him, really looks, and Saguru cannot read his gaze. Curiosity, perhaps? Hope? That sky blue gaze remains stubborn as its owner, up until Kuroba drops it back onto the rock.
“It’s kind of bland.” He scrutinizes the smooth, tannish surface, little pockmarks of darker brown speckled across.
His eyes are imperceptibly narrowed, sharp and fox-like; Saguru offers nothing but silence, watching the quiet interplay of emotions.
When Kuroba lifts his head, Saguru can no longer read what’s within them. “What’s this supposed to mean?” He tilts his head an approximate 20º degrees, as only Kuroba is wont to do, and brushes the hair out of his eyes.
“The same as what your gifts mean, I hope.”
Kuroba blinks, slow and mundane, and buries the lower half of his face into his scarf. He twitches as if debating to make for the window; his hand flutters around the rock; close, open, closed again, as a far-off bird calls to herald the sunset.
“It's Yooperlite.” Saguru gestures uselessly, and Kuroba peers down at his fist with politely curious eyes. “It glows when exposed to UV light.”
“...oh.” Kuroba truly turns for the window, now, liquid gold on his features and Saguru watches, as always, watches and waits and steps one step closer while Kaito lifts it up to the waning sun.
Within the darkened classroom, the curtains fan out to frame Kaito in their embrace. The rock alights with dots of orange hearth-fire; a several-degree-tilt turns them into the yellow-white of stars. Kaito does not move as Saguru approaches, and only retracts his hand once they are side-by-side, tucking the stone into his pocket.
“Thanks.”
It is muffled, but regardless, it is enough.
“You’re welcome.”
Kaito squints out into the horizon, then chances a glance at Saguru to find he is already the subject of his gaze. Sky blue drops quickly, then, and back up to the sun.
Saguru’s mouth is dry. He lifts his hand, and though Kaito startles, though his eyes track the detective’s hand, he does not move away. A surge of confidence, Saguru steps closer —
“HEY! HURRY UP, YOU TWO!”
In sync, their heads snap down to the near-empty courtyard. Nakamori waves her arm with copious energy, Koizumi silent behind her, then cups her hands around her mouth.
“IT’S COLD! AOKO DOESN’T WANNA BE OUT HERE WAITING ANY LONGER!”
Kaito rolls his eyes so hard they threaten to fall out of their sockets. He mirrors her action and leans out the window.
“SHUT UP, AHOKO, WE’RE COMING! LEARN SOME PATIENCE, WOMAN!”
Ignoring Nakamori’s affronted shrieks, Kaito steps away and brushes past Saguru, heading for his bag and gracefully shouldering it. He glances back with a raised brow.
“Well? You coming?”
Saguru smiles and grabs his own, quickening his steps to catch up.
“Of course.”
