Chapter Text
“It’s been right there in front of us, he’s clearly communicating with his contacts in Shinjuku,” Goro hisses and Makoto screws her eyes shut, then opens them slowly, possibly in some effort to inject some wakefulness.
Goro can understand that. He really needs some eye drops, or to start wearing his glasses. Neither of which he’ll do, but it’s the thought that counts. He’s not actually sure how long they’ve been working with minimal sleep, but it’s been a while.
“Yes, that does seem obvious now we’ve caught most of that group. I think he may have his fingers in more pies than we thought,” she says, her voice cracking a bit, but with that clear hint of excitement which is also currently keeping him going.
It’s not always easy working with the Nijimas, but at the end of the day, Makoto is excellent at what she does, not that he’d ever tell her. And while Sae runs their department, the two of them have been working on this case solely for months. And after a heavy questioning of someone in Kaneshiro’s inner circle, they think they might have something to pin on him.
Goro has always thought there was something more to this than just extortion. Of course, the targets were high profile with something to hide, but there’s an undercurrent of more, of an operation that spreads wider, potentially impacting more of their cases.
They need this. Goro is known already in the department, mainly for cracking an extremely high profile case as an intern when he was sixteen years old. The problem is, they still, almost eight years later, wheel him out whenever they need a spokesperson, a pretty face to go with justice of the city.
It felt good to get that as a teen, who came from nothing and was sudden the hope of the capital. He’s not above admitting he has a horrible tendency to chase after affection, a habit which has not served him well in life, and still hasn’t truly worked out how to stop doing it. But, if he could actually get a good, relevant case under his belt again, they’d have to stop pedalling him out as the media darling and take him as seriously as they do other colleagues.
Makoto, in many ways, has similar problems. Her sister rose through the ranks like wildfire, and no matter how good she genuinely is, she’s always treated as Nijima the second. They both need this win, and it’s been mostly easy to set aside differences and work themselves into early graves to do this.
Well. Mostly. Makoto, it seems, doesn’t think his idea of bar hopping is a good one.
“You have no idea where he’ll be, so simply going into bars, which makes you look more suspicious. Plus you’re wearing...that,” she says.
“What is wrong with my attire?” he says, considering he’s wearing the same crisp (well, less than crisp now the hours have passed), white shirt and dark formal pants he normally dons for work.
“Nothing, just you do not look like you should be in a Shinjuku bar. Let’s just see what we can dig up tomorrow, and then we might have a lead. Tomorrow’s Friday, it’s a good time for a stakeout,” she says.
He can’t fault that logic unfortunately, so they agree to bring their evidence to Sae in the morning. Goro almost wishes he could sleep at the office, the whole going home just to return again seems like a waste of time and energy. But he stumbles to the train, tries not to fall asleep, almost misses his stop and returns to his small, sterile set of rooms. He can’t remember the last time he spent time in here which wasn’t to shower or sleep, and he doesn’t much care. Goro can worry about his lack of social life after he’s cracked this case. If ever.
It’s a catch 22: Goro spends most of his time working, so doesn’t have time to make friends, or date anyone. Yet even if he did have a social circle or a boyfriend, he’d most likely promptly lose them, as he spends most of his time working and his spare time dealing with the mess that on occasion tries to spill from his own brain, so he’s quite frankly unavailable in most senses.
But he’s mostly happy. He has one friend from high school who is just as busy as he is, so their ideals of how relationships work align perfectly, and a couple of work colleagues who have somehow wormed their way into more, and one of them is Makoto, whom he cannot decide what to define as. But when he makes his way into the office, with slightly more sleep and a shower under his belt, he is ever so grateful for her existence, seeing as she brings him coffee, pastries and a meeting set up with Sae at eleven.
“Where did you get these? They’re amazing,” he asks, having finished almost all his pastry before she’s even started eating.
“A recommendation from Si-Sae actually. It’s on my way to work. Coffee managed to stay hot too,” she adds, and Goro nods in thanks again, mentally recording the need to ask her for more details later, when he doesn’t have to prepare for the day.
It’s hard to tell what Sae thinks, even after years of working with her, so after they present their findings, he waits in tense silence until she looks up at both of them.
“A bar? Well, there’s a few possibilities, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. Do not engage though. We have a suspect list, make sure to take a look at the profiles before you go. And report to me when you’re done. I’ll have a team on standby if you don’t check in,” Sae adds, and Goro exhales in relief as he leaves her office.
“You’ll still need a new outfit,” Makoto adds, and he glares at her as she doesn’t bother to hide the smug smile.
Sae sends them four bars to check out between them this evening, mentioning this is just an information operation, so they both know they don’t have permission to do anything bold. She looks at Goro the whole time, and he stares right back. He’d never compromise an operation by doing anything rash, they all know this, but he has occasionally done things which are hard to justify to their superiors.
Seeing as they’ll be out late, he and Makoto finish early, but Goro pops out to the convenience store, buys two bentos and heads over to the profiling department. He’s pretty sure he recalls the suspects, but it’s always best to check, and besides, it’s a chance to see Yusuke.
He’s not disappointed, for when he arrives on the fifth floor, he’s in full flow with a woman who looks entirely confused, which is the usual fare when the public has to encounter Yusuke Kitagawa.
“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” she says, as Goro drops himself in a chair nearby.
“The aura of the man who took your bag, just a few words is what I need. The colour, the taste of it, did it shine, did it pulse? Any details will help me finish the sketch,” he says with a flourish of the pencil in his hand, and Goro’s mouth twitches upwards.
“He umm...I think the sneakers were red?” she tries, and Yusuke gives her a scathing look, so Goro chooses that moment to intervene, clearing his throat.
Yusuke spins, smiling brightly. “Ah Detective, so good to see you,” he turns back to the woman before him. “Please give me a moment. And think on that aura,” he adds, and she makes a sort of helpless noise as Yusuke stands.
The fact that Yusuke’s profiles are so eerily correct is the only reason he still has a job. It’s just difficult getting him to actually make the piece, seeing as he’s both a perfectionist and so utterly strange he makes Goro feel like a normal member of society.
Goro takes the bento as Yusuke leads them out of the office to a small room usually set aside for private interviews, before he’s swept into a somewhat bony hug, immediately tensing up. Hugs. Not a thing he’s good at, but Yusuke is oddly affectionate, and also probably can see Goro has food with him. He manages to force himself to uncurl, hugging Yusuke back for a beat before breaking free.
“Goro, it’s been far too long, how's the case?” he says, and Goro smiles, excitement brewing.
“We should be having a breakthrough tonight, I wanted to stop by and look at the profiles from the questioning session last week,” he says.
“Of course, of course, let me find them,” he says, striding over to the computer, giving Goro the well worn bemoaning of the way the quality of his sketches is permanently ruined by being scanned into the database, which apparently makes the image unrecognisable.
Goro however, just scans the sketches of three extremely detailed individuals who are thought to be part of Kaneshiro’s inner circle in the extortion case, amazed Yusuke’s even managed to detail precise freckle numbers and nose hairs, as he explains what will be happening tonight.
“You’re going to Crossroads? Oh, I see, you’re going home to change, a good plan. Do be careful though, I have memories of that place,” he says, the second part preventing Goro from once again wondering what the hell is wrong with his clothes.
“Why were you in Crossroads?” he says, and Yusuke shakes his head.
“I once had a hankering for the more gritty depths to painting. I’ve been once, an enlightening experience with ample subject matter. I still have my pieces from that time, you must come see,” he says, and Goro shakes his head in amusement.
“Why not. But let’s go to lunch once I’ve finished this case,” he says, and Yusuke immediately agrees, then hugs Goro again as he hands over the bento, reminding Yusuke firmly to eat today.
As they exit, the woman looks up, and nervously stutters. “I-I think it was...desperate?”
“Desperation, yes! An aura of that magnitude truly changes the piece. Ah, I must get to work, but Go-Detective Akechi, please do inform me when you get home from your stakeout, I will worry otherwise,” he says, and Goro rolls his eyes even as the fondness seeps, strange and rare, through his chest.
Unfortunately, too many comments regarding his attire put him in a conundrum as 10PM arrives. Having slept and eaten, he stares at his wardrobe wondering what on earth someone who frequents these types of places would wear, but is not so low as to ask Makoto or Yusuke. Neither are experts in fashion, so he doesn’t trust their judgement, but he should actually wear something different from the office.
He probably won’t be recognised at such an establishment, but there’s the odd chance someone will; he’s not truly the best choice for a stakeout, so he changes up his look somewhat. Pulls on a dark shirt, which is a little small nowadays, but it’s fine to go with jeans. He ties his hair up, which he normally only does for climbing, but it manages to change his face somewhat that he’s not so recognisable. On a whim, he does a little more makeup than usual, adding some eyeliner, which is a little shakier than usual having not bothered in so long.
It will do. He hopes, anyway. He doesn’t want to end up causing any issues simply because he’s recognised. But the whole point is to stay inconspicuous anyway, so he’ll probably only stay for as long as is necessary. As he gets on the train, slight nerves buzzing from the unfamiliar activity, Makoto checks in to inform him she’s entering her first location.
Goro arrives in Shinjuku less than twenty minutes later, heading straight for the first bar, making his way through the crowds, grimacing slightly when people push against him, already inebriated. He’s thankful for his dark jacket, again not his usual attire, and customary gloves, the leather the only comfort of his usual facade. They both protect him somewhat against the touch of strangers, which reminds him again of why he doesn’t normally go to any type of bar.
This is going to be a long night.
His first place on the list turns out to be a clear bust. Strawberry Moon is about as awful as it’s named, everything a rather garish red, including the drink he ends up ordering. He stays for just over an hour, but the place seems to be pretty dead, most of the people loud, already drunk and regulars. No one here is even close to the description on his list, and Goro swallows his way through the vodka, trying desperately not to catch anyone’s eye.
It’s just gone midnight when he makes his way towards Crossroads, the break from pounding music, cigarette fumes and sticky floors a welcome relief, so he gives himself a moment to survey the establishment.
There’s a small queue, a bouncer at the door slouching and chatting more than barring people from entering. Despite its reputation, the outside is fairly unassuming, just a sign and a set of stairs leading inside. There’s the sound of high laughter, a few people with drinks outside and smoking, and Goro decides to give himself a few more minutes before braving it.
He checks his phone, Makoto having had no luck in her first place either, so he checks in. Yusuke has also messaged, telling Goro he’ll be happy to accompany him should he need an escort, and he quickly types out a firm refusal. Even the thought of trying to scope out a bar with Yusuke has him wincing.
Messages done, he looks up, steeling himself before trying to incorporate a leisurely pace as he joins the queue to enter. It doesn’t take long before he’s in front of the bouncer, who up close Goro can see has dyed his hair extremely yellow extremely badly, the tone utterly different in several places, and he’s more thankful than ever Yusuke isn’t with him. He’d either have a field day or a breakdown.
“Hey,” the bouncer says, seeming to pay slightly more attention than he has done in the past few minutes, still slouching against the wall, but eyeing Goro with what seems like a little suspicion.
“You want in?” he asks, as if there’s any other reason why one would be standing outside a bar at this hour.
Goro doesn’t trust himself not to snark at the ridiculousness, so just nods, keeping his face neutral and not trying his usual smile to get his way. He doesn’t think that would work so well under the circumstances.
The bouncer gives him another once over, sighs as if doing his job is the most arduous thing in the world, and lets him pass, Goro catching him taking his phone out before he turns back to the other person hovering nearby. He can’t say much for the security here at any rate, which means it’s probably perfect for their target.
Crossroads is busy in comparison to the previous bar, but not so packed Goro can’t get a feel for the place. There’s tables set out, mostly occupied, although he spies an empty one to the left of the room and quickly takes a seat. There’s a stage set up before him, music playing, the people seated talking and gesturing as if some act has just passed.
Goro turns and at the opposite side of the room is the bar, more people lounging around and seated at stools in that area. It makes sense in many ways, closer to the drinks, and that seems to be what this clientele is interested in.
He focuses though, casts his eyes over the crowd, then jolts when he spies someone with a distinct likeness to one of the identified suspects, throwing back his head and cackling just two tables over. Goro stares, quickly breaking out his phone to take a few notes, and managing to snap one picture in the process. Unfortunately, there appears to be no one else of note, but having Kaneshiro turn up here was possibly too good to hope. He does though, have a lead.
“Hi! What can I get you?”
Goro almost drops his phone as a woman walks directly in front of him, blocking his view. He has to raise his head to look at her; she must be tall anyway, and is currently balancing expertly in a pair of towering red heels. She smiles brightly, the kind of smile Goro knows is practiced, flicking her platinum blonde curled hair over one shoulder.
Goro looks around as if for a menu, but of course there is nothing. He momentarily panics, not knowing what would be an appropriate drink to order, seeing as he’d just had the special at the previous bar.
“Mojitos are two for one,” the woman says hopefully, and Goro tries not to look as relieved as he feels.
“Mojitos then, thank you,” he says, and she blinks, looking a little out of sorts before the plastic smile is back and she walks away.
Oddly, she immediately goes to the table of the suspect, who croons at her, causing her to giggle loudly into her hand. Goro grimaces; he can tell it’s all an act, can’t understand how the suspect doesn’t see it too, but watches out of the corner of his eye as the girl takes his card with a smile and a flick of her heel in a practiced, almost idol-esque pose, then hurries back to the bar.
He tries snapping a few more photos, watching for anyone else's’ arrival, but the group seems complete. He notices them passing money between each other; not enough to be any more than dues owed, but more than is probably necessary in public space. He makes a note of it anyway, then sends a quick update to Makoto and Sae, putting his phone away just as the woman returns.
“Here you go! I put extra sugar in, you look like you prefer sweet things,” she says, offering him a wink and a smile, while he blinks back at her.
“Yes...I do,” he says, taking a sip through the straw of the closest drink to find it’s...perfectly pleasant, actually.
“Good? I think they’re my best,” she says, and Goro sees out of the corner of his eyes movement at the table, and is about to turn around when the woman speaks.
“Are you here for the show?” she says, and he’s forced to grit his teeth, not turn to look as she smiles down at him, bright and oddly eager.
“Show? No, it’s my first night here,” he says, hoping she’ll be needed elsewhere so he can go back to checking out the suspect’s movements.
“Oooh, well you came at a good time! Maybe you’ll enjoy it. We do ask people to stay in their seats when the performance starts, it’s far less disruptive,” she says, taking on an earnest tone that’s so hideously false he doesn't think anyone can buy it.
But he nods and takes another sip of the impressively made drink. “Of course,” he says.
“Great, well, it’s starting now, enjoy!” she says, then scampers away before he can say anything else.
Goro frowns after her, then turns back with a sigh, and to his horror, notices his suspect has left the table.
“Shit,” he mutters to himself, pocketing his phone and standing, only for the bar lights to dim and the stage to light up as all around him, people begin yelling and clapping.
He hisses, then falls down in his seat, recalling exactly what the server said about staying in his seat, amazed at her impeccable timing. He wonders why, for surely others have had to leave, but seeing as he’d missed when and where the suspect had vanished to, he should probably stay put rather than accidentally making a scene.
Goro sits back down as music starts to play, and the atmosphere amps up in the room. He fiddles with his gloves, itching to be released; changes in plans and surprises are not things he deals with well. He likes order and expectancy, and being asked to stay still when he has a job to do fights all these impulses.
Goro cringes when a voice rings out through the bar.
“And now, the act I know you’ve been waiting for. Give it up for Joker!”
Goro doesn’t know what to do other than clap mechanically, already judging whatever person decided ‘Joker’ was a good stage name. He forces himself to give into the fact he has to endure whatever amateur bar entertainment this will be, most probably singing. A far cry he supposes from the Jazz bar he loves, but at least it’s not karaoke. He’ll definitely be leaving before that.
It’s as he studies the stage, he realises with a strange, horrifying clarity exactly what’s about to happen. How he’d neglected to see the pole on his first sweep of his surroundings is beyond him. Goro is a detective, surely he should have noticed a pole on a stage. But of course, he hadn’t known Crossroads was this...type of establishment, and therefore wasn’t looking for it.
By the way the noise is increasing around him, Goro appears to be the only one, especially as the music picks up tempo and he finds himself cringing down in his seat. This is going to be hell, he can’t believe he’ll have to sit through this display before he can pay for his drinks, then escape.
Mentally, he’s preparing himself for an extremely uncomfortable time, but part of that falls away to pure shock when the guy appears almost out of nowhere.
He chokes on his mojito; truth be told he isn’t expecting a man to appear, and not one with shoulders quite that sculpted which really, is a bad miscalculation seeing as he’s most likely going to pole dance at any moment, and Goro is absolutely weak to nice shoulders.
The man, or Joker, as he’d been called, saunters on stage to a series of cheers, wearing an extremely tight waistcoat, even tighter wet look pants and dark boots, which stop just under his knees. The only pop of colour are gloves, crimson and stopping at his wrist, combined with the white mask perched over his eyes.
He stops to the left of the pole and looks out at the audience as the music picks up. He surveys them all, smirking as he pulls at both his gloves with sharp movements, each flick of the material causing Goro’s heart to thump in time. His dark hair is that artful mess style that Goro can never pull off, falling distractedly over the mask, and it’s a wonder really that he can see at all.
But he can, apparently, as he casts his eyes over the audience, who ramp up even more with his attention. It’s clearly a well practiced and effective act, for when his eyes, even behind the mask, seem to focus on Goro, his smirk slanted, as if just for him, which considering there is a crowd and the lights must be blinding, is entirely impossible.
But it sends a jolt through him anyway, that is until Goro regains his senses. Surely he’s not so starved for attention that he’s imagining a pole dancer is interested in him?
That thought flies swiftly out of his brain as Joker grips the pole with one gloved hand, idly swings around to the front, then lifts one hand to the top before sliding all the way to ground, head thrown back and neck bared with his back against the pole.
“Fuck,” Goro says to himself eloquently, glad the breathless tone is lost in a sea of cheering.
It’s ridiculously just how hot he finds that, and as the act continues, Goro has to stop himself from gawking more than once as Joker’s show continues. It’s more acrobatic than Goro would have previously assumed pole dancing would be, more effortless seeming feats of balance and strength, which has Goro’s mouth dry through the whole endeavour.
He’d never really considered exactly what type of person he’s attracted to, but apparently it’s dark haired men with wicked smirks, lithe bodies and exceptionally toned biceps. Which is made even more obvious when halfway through the routine, he deftly removes the waist coat with one hand.
Goro thinks he makes a noise when Joker becomes shirtless. He definitely makes some sort of obscene sound when he ends up hanging vertically, both hands gripping onto the pole, the strength of the pose clear with the way the muscles in his chest and back strain. Goro’s never wanted to bite someone so much in his life, leave marks on pretty, flawless skin so everyone who would glimpse it can writhe in knowing jealousy.
It feels almost wrong to be practically drooling over a stranger like this, not something Goro can say he’s ever done so publicly before. He knows he’s blushing deeply, thankful for the darkness and the fact no one knows him here. Everyone around him is far louder than he, so at least he’s got some cover shrinking in his seat and trying not to imagine some stranger draped across him with their head thrown back.
The delicious torment does end, to riotous applause. Goro joins in, although sedately, as Joker flicks his somewhat damp hair out of his mask, which miraculously stayed on through the entire display. He offers the audience a nod and then, managing this time to clearly catch Goro’s eye as he heads off stage, he winks .
Goro lets out an extremely high pitched noise, and blushes harder, neither of which any human will ever know occurred as thankfully, no one can see him lose his dignity right now.
The house lights come on with Joker’s exit and as soon as they do, the spell is broken. Goro practically launches out of his seat and stares across the room. The table where the suspect was seated is still empty.
“Are you okay? Did you enjoy the show?”
Goro turns to see the same server from before, and frowns. She’s extremely attentive for such a place of disrepute, it’s odd. Perhaps she’s simply looking for a good tip, he doesn't imagine this place pays well.
“Oh, yes. Lively,” he says, unsure how to describe the fact he would quite frankly like to do almost unspeakable things to that performer.
“I would like to pay,” he follows up with quickly, trying to get himself back on track.
The woman laughs brightly. “Oh no, it’s on the house. Anyone who Joker winks at gets their drinks free,” she says, and turns to spin away, going to the next table.
Goro stares after her, then swiftly pulls on his jacket, abandoning the table with his face burning. He does a quick sweep of the bar and the bathroom, but there is no sign of the suspect. He therefore departs, noting how it’s close to two in the morning, the bouncer calling a bored “see ya,” as he does.
He’s not sure whether this night is a complete success or an abysmal failure.
“So, you saw him but lost him? And you have no idea what he may have done afterwards?” Sae says as they debrief the next day.
Goro plasters on his best sorrowful expression while trying not to imagine why he wasn’t able to tail the suspect. “Unfortunately, yes,” he says.
Both Nijima sisters stare, which is an uncomfortable situation to be in, but eventually, Sae turns back to her computer.
“Alright, we have a lead. And possibly good you didn’t corner him, as we don’t have the full warrant yet. With this though, I might be able to do something more,” she says.
“Is it worth us going back tonight?” Makoto asks, and Sae observes them both carefully.
“Perhaps. Let’s see how the day goes,” she says, a dismissal they’re both aware of, as they go back to their respective desks.
He’s been working for less than half an hour before Makoto stops by.
“Coffee?” she says, and he nods, signing and getting up, grateful for the distraction as they head down to the cafeteria.
She looks as tired as he feels, considering they both got home rather late, but had to be in the office for their usual start time. As they arrive, Yusuke is already sitting in the corner, waving at them brightly, Goro offering him a much smaller greeting before he decides on a cake and coffee.
“A nutritious snack, I see,” Yusuke comments, and Goro just glares, while Makoto eats an apple, which does not go with coffee, an all out bad decision.
Yusuke of course, ignores an venomous look sent his way. “I am pleased to see you are no worse for wear after your activities last night,” he says, and the wording causes him to swallow his coffee too quickly, burning its way down.
“Yes, what exactly happened last night. Not like you to lose a lead,” Makoto says, peering at him over her mug.
This is the problem with having nosey friends, they never let anything lie. Goro puts his cup down and instead turns to Yusuke, who is looking at Goro’s cake longingly. Sadly, he’s too tired to give in today.
“When you said you’d been to Crossroads before, what did you think of the...ambiance?” he says slowly, while Makoto looks between them with a frown.
Yusuke thinks on it, and Goro hopes against hope, he understands the question. “Hmm, it had some sort of charm, in a risqué way. The inkling of temptation, the aspirations of night not spent alone, a mirage the daylight can expose...it served me well for the piece I created.”
Goro isn’t sure why he tried, really. Yusuke seems to sense this, cocking his head to the side.
“Was there a particular part you were referring to? The décor? The clientele? The burlesque? The drinks?-”
“Wait, go back, there’s burlesque? At that type of bar?” Makoto says, and Goro is so momentarily stunned that he cannot stop Yusuke from speaking.
“Yes, although it is mostly amateurish, the dancing and aerial movements in one centralised apparatus,” he confirms, and Makoto starts, unblinking for a moment, before she turns to Goro.
“He means pole dancing, doesn’t he. Did you...did you get distracted by a pole dancer?” she says, with such absolute horror tinged with amusement that he ends up forgetting himself completely and snarling at her.
“I did not get distracted, the suspect left when I was informed I had to sit down,” he hisses, and Yusuke’s eyes widen while Makoto’s mouth twitches.
“Sit down to do what, exactly?” she says, and Goro grinds his teeth, ears heating as he takes a huge bite of his cake so he doesn’t make it worse. Yusuke makes a wounded noise, making him feel slightly better.
“I would not have thought pole dancers would be to your taste, Detective Prince,” Makoto adds, and at the look he gives her, she laughs.
“I’m sorry, it’s just so unlike you. I’ll stop,” she says.
“No, don’t stop, tell us more! This could make a great sketch,” Yusuke says, pulling out his sketch pad.
“Are you meant to take that out in public?” Makoto says, but Yusuke ignores her, pointing a pencil at Goro.
“Describe the precise lighting as it struck the dancer’s profile on the left side,” he says.
“I really don’t think Goro will be able to give you that type of detail,” Makoto says, and then turns away when he glares at her, clearly holding in a laugh.
“Hmm, maybe. Well, perhaps we’d all better go, I’d like to see this person who has captured your heart,” Yusuke says, and Goro groans, absolutely giving up with these people.
“Firstly, you are not permitted to accompany me on any investigations. Secondly, there is no heart capturing,” he says, taking another bite of cake.
“I’m not sure, I haven’t seen you be this...off kilter in a long time. It’s almost nice,” Makoto adds, and he can feel a headache building behind his eyes.
“Ah, is this where we express concerns over Goro’s disastrous romantic history,” Yusuke says.
“Not today, thank you,” Goro says, standing up and regretting every single choice of his life until this point.
Makoto gets up, and pats him on the arm, the pity making it worse. “Don’t worry, we can check it out tonight,” she says, and he steps backwards.
“What?” he manages, as she grins, picking up both their coffees as Goro seems to be incapable of functioning properly in the light of this gross interrogation.
“Well, if we’re going on another information gathering trip, it’s best if we go together. We can take turns at surveillance,” she says, and this time does actually laugh, as Goro has to close his eyes for a second to stop himself from exploding.
“Good luck! Update me on your quest for love,” Yusuke calls, causing several people to turn and look at them, Goro having to pull Makoto out of the cafeteria by her arm as she starts laughing even harder.
He’s praying to a God which doesn’t exist all day that Sae refuses their night-time plans, but she gives them the go-ahead to do one more reconnaissance mission. So it is with a gnawing sense of concern he meets Makoto at the station hours later.
He’s in a twin look of the night before, seeing as he doesn’t really own many outfits which work for this situation. Makoto is similarly all in black, but she’s in a well worn leather jacket, her t-shirt stopping before it meets her studded belt, combat boots on her feet.
“Nice eyeliner,” she greets, and it takes him a beat to work out she’s serious.
“Thank you, it took a while,” he says, and she grimaces.
“I can imagine, I always ruin mine. Shall we do this?” she says, and he nods, the two making their way towards Crossroads.
There’s a line again, and to Goro’s slight aggravation, the same lacklustre bouncer at the entrance. He hopes he isn’t recognised, the more times he’s seen by the same people, the greater chance of it seeing odd. But surely, every place has regulars? He poses this to Makoto, who hums.
“I doubt they’d recognise you just from one visit. But either way you could say you’re a fan of...what was their name?” she says, smile more dangerous accompanied by the outfit.
“Joker,” Goro mutters through gritted teeth, and Makoto shakes her head and sighs.
“Really?” she says, as they survey the queue outside, her eyes sweeping along it.
“I too am unimpressed by his ability to pick stage names. But let’s not get side-tracked,” he says, before launching into a detailed account of what had passed last night, Makoto instantly transforming into investigator, nodding along and asking questions where appropriate.
“We have to remember to follow where we can. It looks fairly busy,” she says, as they join the queue, and Goro nods. Tonight the bouncer, still casually leaning against the wall, is admitting guests in at a steady rate, laughing and joking with a few, while others he looks at in a more detailed fashion.
No one gets searched, asked for ID or turned away, but Goro does see him use his phone a few times. He assumes there’s no communications system in a place like this, so messages are probably the best they can do. Makoto leads the way as they step forward, greeting him with somewhat or a too loud “hi,” in Goro’s ears.
“Hey, nice evening,” the man replies though, giving her a nod and a smile, before turning to Goro.
“Go on in,” he says, no flicker of recognition in his eyes as he allows them both to pass, before the guy behind Goro starts up a conversation with him.
For some reason, Goro feels the need to look behind as Makoto leads the way, and sees the bouncer has taken out his phone, still chatting to the man by the door, but typing as he does. He narrows his eyes, but can’t really find a reason to stay. Perhaps it is pure boredom, or a general update of numbers. Or perhaps it’s something else.
“Where precisely were they sitting,” Makoto asks as they make their way in, having to wrap her arm around his to both be heard over the music and to ensure they aren’t separated with the people milling near the door.
It is much busier, livelier and loud. Goro winces, sensation overload for a second as the heat of the room hits him, unconsciously clinging onto Makoto as he does. She turns, stepping out of the way of a very drunk couple and bringing him with her, giving him a questioning look, which he shrugs off.
“Near the front, on the left,” he half shouts, and she nods.
“Let’s go,” she says, and starts off, walking past the bar as she takes his hand and pulls him along, which serves as a good ruse for the two being together, and helps him navigate through the crowd. Goro has to take a breath as he does; he does not like being this close to others, the familiarity of Makoto steading him more than he’d like.
They’re halfway across the room when he feels more like himself, keeping a steady pace with Makoto as she weaves them through, and scans the room, looking for any sight of the suspect, or anyone else they think is involved.
As his eyes fall on the stage, he chokes, trips on his own feet, and knocks into Makoto. That is his first error. His second, is keeping his eyes on the stage as she stops and spins to look at him. But in his defence, he can’t possibly look away at the sight before him.
Joker is on stage, once again shirtless, and once again suspended using those bright red gloves to keep him elevated. Goro watches, sweat beading at his temples as he manages to flip upside down, then pushes his legs open in a perfect split, ass facing the audience.
The room goes wild, which is a relief for Goro because he almost swallows his own tongue and the sight, that urge of wanting to bite rearing its head again, and his mind starts conjuring a series of explicit scenarios he didn’t even think he was capable of imagining. Amazing what this Joker is doing to him.
“Is that...oh my god,” Makoto whispers, having suddenly appeared at his side during the time when his brain was absent.
“Yes,” he says, voice coming out gravelly as Joker runs one hand down his own chest.
“Okay, no focus. Goro. We need to move,” she says, shaking his arm, which should be more embarrassing, but when he turns tears his eyes away, she’s the one staring at the stage with her mouth slightly parted.
“Yes, we do,” he says firmly, and she turns abruptly, cheeks pink and looking entirely flustered.
Thunderous applause catches their attention, and they turn to see Joker giving a theatrical bow, that same waistcoat in his hand. Goro breathes a sigh of relief, although he’s secretly a little disappointed they missed the show. But it will actually mean they can focus on the job at hand.
He does, however, watch Joker walk away, grinning to himself.
Makoto clears her throat, but seeing as she was just as captivated a moment ago, he doesn’t care.
He nods, flicking a piece of hair out of his eye, and they latch back together as they try to pass through the surge of people heading to the bar.
Fortunately, that makes their job far easier, Goro spotting their suspects at the same table as the night before, and tables next to him free. They both casually make their way over, slipping into their seats.
“They’re both suspects identified. Can you take a photo?” Makoto murmurs.
Goro positions his phone, Makoto leaning over him as if they’re looking at something amusing on the screen, and he manages to snap one, before a person stands in their way.
“Good evening, can I get you two a drink?”
Goro looks up, and sees the same waitress as last night, this time her hair piled up in a bun, smiling brightly, yet somehow managing to block their line of sight expertly.
“We’ll have mojitos,” he says, and she blinks, surprised, before her smile quirks up, far more genuine than before.
“Mojitos it is,” she says, then moves away slowly. They both exhale when they see both suspects are still in place, talking quietly together.
Over the next few minutes, several people pass by their table, Goro mentally trying to place them to any of the potential leads, but no one other than the two permanently occupying the table come to mind. There’s no sense of anything other than information being passed on, which makes it difficult for them to be able to pin anything on the group.
Both of them freeze as a lull in table visitors causes one of the men to get up, hands in pockets, and stride towards the bar. Goro exchanges a look with Makoto, who nods.
“I’ll go,” she says, and he hesitates for a second, before agreeing.
“Keep in touch, do not leave the area,” he says seriously, and she nods, then walks in the opposite direction to the suspect, clearly with the aim of tailing under the radar.
Without Makoto or anything to occupy his time, Goro takes out his phone and scrolls idly through, every once in a while looking up at the remaining suspect. Makoto hasn’t messaged, but he has a sense by the way their quarry keeps glancing around, he’s not planning on remaining here long.
It would be helpful if Goro could find any explanation of what they’re waiting for or whom, so they could actually bring them in, but there isn’t one, and Goro’s nerves spike as he begins shrugging on his jacket. Makoto has still not replied, and really it’s not sensible for both of them to leave, but it seems he has little choice.
“I have two mojitos,” says a deep voice from behind and Goro curses the timing of this place.
“Oh yes, thank you,” he says, turning, meaning to only glance up in acknowledgement, but is struck with a sudden impending sense of horror as Joker stares back down at him, that smirk in place, holding the two drinks.
He’s changed his top into a plain white t-shirt, an odd choice for the bar where everyone else's seem to ooze sex appeal, although, Goro has to admit, it still works for him. The mask is gone, revealing his grey eyes which seem supremely dark in the half light of the bar. The pants he’s wearing a still extremely tight, coming up to his waist where the shirt is tucked in, and Goro swallows, mouth dry again.
Joker seems to know the effect he’s having, smirk pulling upwards as he lowers the two drinks down on the table, watching Goro the whole time. Snapping out of his reverie, Goro offers his best television smile, and picks up a drink.
“Well, thank you for the swift service,” he says, hoping that will leave him to maintain tracking his suspect and put his thoughts in order, but Joker frowns, humming, the rumble sending a shiver down Goro's spine.
“Don’t I know you?” he says, and for an instant, Goro thinks his cover’s blown, until Joker clicks his fingers.
“You were here yesterday, I saw you in the crowd,” he says.
That might actually be worse, but Goro’s smile does not waver, and he nods.
“I-I was, actually. You have a good eye,” he says.
To his half horror, half delight, Joker dips down, sliding smoothly into Makoto’s vacant seat. His eyes widen as Joker tips his head to one side, hair falling dramatically over one eye, as he crosses one leg over the other. The temperature is Goro’s veins rockets upwards.
“I can’t help but notice you. Is this what you ordered yesterday? I asked my friend to make sure you had a drink on me,” he says, and Goro might actually be sweating now, everything suddenly humid.
“Ah, yes. Thank you for the generosity, it is uncalled for,” he says, having no clue how to move forward this conversation.
“You’re more than welcome. It’s a shame I have to go now, work calls. But maybe I’ll see your pretty face another time. Hopefully, you’ll stick around for longer,” he says, standing slowly, his eyes once again not leaving Goro’s.
“I hope so too,” he says, words slipping out, and Joker’s mouth curls into something joyous, small and real, making Goro actually smile himself, looking down at his drink once.
“Enjoy your evening,” Joker says softly, then takes the tray and heads off back to the bar.
Goro watches him leave again. It really is an excellent sight.
Except as soon as he languidly turns with a sigh, he notices the table next to him is empty.
“What the fuck,” he hisses, standing and grabbing his own coat, pushing his way through the crowds, trying to catch any sign of the suspects. But there’s none. He grips his phone, the metal digging into his hands as his frustration boils over, heading for the exit, only to see Makoto appear just before it.
“Did you find him?” he asks, grabbing her arm and she shakes her head.
“What about yours?” she replies.
“Gone. Dammit, this is so fucking ridiculous,” he half shouts, but thankfully it goes unheard over the din.
Makoto leans back against the wall, exhaling. Goro takes a second, letting the anguish bleed out of him, both of them calming down. When she opens her eyes, she just looks tired.
“Let’s go home, there’s nothing else to do here,” she says.
They both step out, once again too late to get the train, so they walk slowly to the nearest taxi rank, both quiet and deflated.
“The bouncer held me up. I had to find my ID and everything,” she mutters, and Goro frowns.
“Odd, he didn’t seem so attentive-shit, I didn’t pay for the drinks,” he says, wincing when he recalls the entire reason he lost the suspect.
Makoto sighs. “Least of our problems, but I’ll call them in the morning. But we can hand this over to someone, there’s clearly enough to inspire a full investigation,” she says, and Goro nods, hailing the next cab he sees.
It takes him a long while to fall asleep that night, the change in hours messing with his brain, as well as the sugar from the drink. Not to mention seeing Joker, up close and personal, confirming he remembered him from Friday.
It’s stupid he knows, to think on it. There is no reason for him to go to Crossroads again, and even if he did so, it’s not as if he could strike up any kind of lasting relationship with the man. Firstly, Goro is not the sort of person who is good at maintaining long term anything, even if he might want to. And besides, he’s definitely not the kind of person Joker would want to date, not the real him anyway.
He eventually dozes off in a foul mood. There’s an impending sense of doom over his shoulders from the moment he wakes up, tripping over a wayward shoe, and making a mess of his toothpaste as he greets the morning. He’s downright annoyed when he turns on the TV, hoping to get a nice relaxing coffee in before he goes through his personal admin like he usually does each Sunday.
Only to be greeted with the headline that infamous gangster Kaneshiro has been taken into police custody.
“You have got to be shitting me,” he yells at the TV, then runs back into his bedroom, coffee be damned.
“Did you see?” he says, as he leaves his apartment, Makoto’s breaths on the other line telling him she’s marching to the office as well.
“Yes. I don’t understand what happened. I’ve left a message for Sis, but she’s not answering,” she says, and Goro tuts as he half runs to the station.
“I’ll be there in half an hour,” he grumbles, knowing she’ll be there much earlier seeing as she’s already on her way.
He stews the entire journey. How the hell had someone got there before them? This was supposed to be his case, the one which would help establish him as something, and it’s been ripped from under his feet. No one else should be working on this, they are the team with the arrests, and as far as he knows, no one has been even close to convicting Kaneshiro.
He feels at a loss, the energy that has been keeping him going for weeks falling away as he pulls into the station. He just about makes it off in time, his heart just not in it as he races to work. It feels like defeat, and Goro Akechi hates to lose. It bothers him even more, as the air in the office is one of jubilation, revelling in a success that they had no hand in.
As he gets off the elevator on the third floor, he spies Makoto easily, weaving his way through the relatively empty office. He spies Sae in the office at the far end, and grimaces as Makoto catches his eye.
“I didn’t manage to catch her, but it seems like an undercover team have been in place for months, hoping to catch Kaneshiro and his inner circle. We managed to catch someone on the outskirts, but they were already in place,” she says dejectedly.
Goro slumps into the chair next to her, silence reigning. They’d already been too late when they’d stepped into the bar, the case far out of their hands.
“We couldn’t have known. Looks like Sis... Sae , wasn’t even aware our investigations crossed over. They’re going through it now,” she says.
“Will there be any issues with us being at Crossroads?” he asks, and Makoto shakes her head.
“I doubt it, we were acting with all the information we had. A little unorthodox maybe, but we didn’t do anything wrong,” she says, but Goro’s not sure if she’s trying to talk herself into that way of thinking.
Makoto leans round, trying to peer through the office door.
“I think they’re coming out soon. I wonder who was on the undercover team,” she says, and Goro shrugs, uninterested. He’s never really cared what other departments do, unless he has to interact with them directly.
“Is that...wait, that’s the bouncer!”
That though, captures his attention. Makoto is peering over, her presence blocked behind one of the other meeting rooms, watching in a way that is almost childlike and extremely unsubtle. There’s an exit at the other end of the office, so Goro groans but joins her, standing behind her to see as the loud voice of the bouncer with awful dyed hair echoes.
“He saw my ID,” Makoto whispers frantically, and Goro almost laughs, except after him steps a tall woman, who is unmistakable the server he spoke to.
“Damn it, what the hell?” he mutters, as she laughs, nodding at something Sae says as she leaves the room.
“They knew,” he mutters to himself, a numbness seeping through.
Of course. It’s obvious now, the way she’d stood in front of them, kept his attention and made him sit down. They’d both known all along who he and Makoto were, and had actively tried to prevent them from butting into their own investigation. He rubs a hand across his face, then turns away. This couldn’t possibly be-
“Oh my god. Goro, Goro, it’s him!” and suddenly he’s yanked back to the wall almost hitting it headfirst.
Makoto keeps an iron grip on his wrist, although for some reason she starts shaking, hand flying to her mouth, and he worriedly looks over at the group, where a final person is closing the office door.
A person with curled, dark hair, a graceful stance and legs that Goro would shamefully recognise anywhere.
“Joker,” they both say at the same time, Goro suddenly realising they’ve said it far too loudly.
He reacts, while Makoto, who is weirdly bad at spying on people, just lets out a nervous laugh, meaning Goro’s sudden flight back behind the wall is hopefully missed.
“Oh, Makoto, I see you recognise some of the team. I should introduce you,” Sae calls.
“Ah, we met, sorry I couldn’t say anything,” calls the bouncer, and Goro winces, inching away slowly.
“Yes! I’m so sorry, I really wanted to tell you who we were. I’m Ann Takamaki,” says the server, and Goro decides in that instant he cannot deal with this. He absolutely is not going to meet the person who he’d eye fucked for two nights straight, who had noticed him doing it, his already tattered reputation can’t handle this.
So he bravely runs away. Well, more accurately pushes off the wall and walks swiftly towards the side exit before anyone can turn the corner. As he looks around, he sees Makoto turn, eyes widening, and shaking her head ever so slightly, but he ignores her.
It’s one thing fantasising about a pole dancer in a club who flirted with him a couple of times. It’s another to realise said dancer is actually only posing working at a bar, is actually in the same profession as Goro, and works in his building.
And Goro is absolutely not going to deal with this shit right now. Or, actually ever, if he can get his way.