dcmk_yaoi | Fic: Amoureux immortels

Tile: Amoureux immortels
Author: Saitaina
Rating: PG-13/R
Word Count: 1,874
Characters: Saguru Hakuba/Kaito Kuroba, Arsene Lupin/Sherlock Holmes
Summary: Saguru captures not only Kaito, but a lover from the past.
WARNING: AU
Notes: It's been ages since I've read Holmes and I just today started Lupin so...sorry if they seem off.

Amoureux immortels

“We don't have an eternity to realize our dreams, only the time we are here.” -Susan Taylor

Kaito held the glittering diamond in his hand up to the moon above, the chaos and drama of a heist fading away from him as a red glow started in the center of the diamond, growing and bathing him in the light, painting his face a faint rose colour.

The door behind him burst open and Saguru skid to a stop, gun out and ready, eyes casting about for a moment before he caught sight of the thief, cursing.

"Found it, tantei-san," Kid called merrily, turning to glance over his shoulder. "Or should I call you détective, after all these years?"

"Damn you, Lupin," Saguru cursed, holstering his gun.

The thief tisked, flicking a hand in order to cause the diamond to vanish down his sleeve, sliding gloved hands into his pockets. "Now, now, détective, there's really no need for that. I trust this satisfies the terms of the bet?"

The detective nodded, whistling sharply and calling his hawk to him, holding out a gloved hand for the bird to rest on. He un-tied the bag around the bird's leg, tossing the bag of coins at the thief's feet, before holding his hand out.

The diamond once more appeared in a gloved hand and the thief offered the diamond to the detective, a small smile crossing his face as he was pulled against the blond's body, their lips meeting.

"I saw...oh," Jii said, freezing on the ladder before smiling, remembering the same scene, one hundred years ago.

--

Paris, France, 1874

"You have reached the end of the line, Lupin."

The gentlemen thief clutched his cane, staring down at the edge of the rooftop the pair had been running across, one in desperate escape, the other for the justice of finally...finally catching his prey. He stared at the police officers and reporters gathered around, eager to see the end of a chase that had seemed to consume years, but in reality had only been a few months. "Would that I had wings to fly," Arsène murmured, staring at the ground before turning, taking in his adversary, a small smile creasing his lips. "So what now, Monsieur Holmes? Will you chase me over the edge?"

"You won't jump, Lupin. You're too invested in your own survival. The diamond, if you please."

"I'm afraid I can't remember where I put it, if you would just give me a second..."

"It's in your breast pocket, now..." Holmes held out his hand, the other clutching a pair of handcuffs in the pocket of his overcoat.

Arsène sighed, removing the diamond from his pocket, twirling it between his fingers before approaching the detective, his mind running to find an escape, a distraction. He looked up at Holmes as their fingers met, gloved against flesh and Arsène leaned in, pressing his lips against Holmes, closing his eyes while the other's widened.

"Holmes, I just saw...oh dear." Watson blinked, staring at the pair as he leaned against the ladder, rather stumped at the scene.

Arsene grinned before moving his hand, sending the diamond still clutched loosely in Holmes grip, up into he air. He had intended to simply send the gem away, where he could retrieve it later, unfortunately, he mis-calculated how hard he hit it and at what angle, and as the gem shimmered above the pair, catching the light, a few stray droplets of liquid hit the pairs lip's, caught as they were in the red glow above them.

--

Meiringen, Switzerland, 1891

"You're soaking!" Arsène exclaimed, rising from his chair as the newspaper he had been reading fell aside the moment he saw his lover enter the small house they had been renting.

"As one would be if one takes and un-expected bath over the edge of a waterfall..." Sherlock mumbled through shivering teeth before striding across the room, grasping Arsène's upper arms in a painful grip.

"Sherlock, what are you..."

"Shut up," the detective barked out, eyes casting about the room, far too wide for Arsène's tastes. "Where is it?"

"Where is...what?" Arsène asked, wincing as Sherlock's grip tightened before releasing the thief, leaving him to rub his arms as he watched his love circle the room before removing a knife from the block of cheese Arsène had been snacking on as he waited for Sherlock's confrontation to end. "What are you...Sherlock! If this is one of your stupid English idiosyncrasies, I am not amused!" Arsène chastised as he grabbed a towel, wrapping it around the wound on Sherlock's arm from the detective slicing into it.

"You're the Frenchman, idiosyncrasies are you're area of expertise." Sherlock said, allowing Arsène to bustle him into a chair, the thief tossing the stained rag into the trash before grabbing another.

"Killing yourself may have topped any..." Arsène trailed off, staring at the wound that just moments ago had been bleeding his partner's life away. Now he could barely see it, if not for the few blood stains still there. "How?"

"I fell over the falls, Arsène. I hit my head on the way down, I know I did, and now...nothing. I knew that glow wasn't natural, there was something wrong. I've been looking, searching, that gem, it's not.."

Sherlock was going a mile a minute and Arsène rubbed his temple, feeling a migraine coming on. "You're blaming the fact you're a phénomène on a gem?" he asked, watching as Sherlock paced the room, falling into the chair the detective had vacated and lighting a cigarette, watching Sherlock, before shaking his head and turning his attention to the fallen newspaper, missing the detective spin around, knife in hand.

He gasped, newspaper and cigarette falling as he stared at Sherlock's face, so close to his own, the pain emanating from his chest incredible. Arsène blinked, looking down at the knife protruding from his chest before giving an un-manly whimper, clutching at the knife, pulling it free from his chest, blood spilling from his lips as his heart continued to beat.

"How?" he gasped through the blood, ripping open his shirt to watch as the wound slowly closed.

"Pandora."

--

Berlin, Germany, 1950

"Have you found it?" a man asked, clothed in darkness, the heavy wool of the rags and blankets around him scratching at his flesh.

"You doubt me?" the young man next to the bum asked with a scoff, lighting a cigarette, before offering one to his companion as he took a seat on the bench next to the man, wrinkling his nose at the smell from the bum, scooting over to clear the air. "I do hope you plan on bathing before coming home."

Sherlock had to smile at that, taking a drag of the cigarette offered to him, scooting closer to his companion, laughing fully as Arsène made a noise like a scalded cat, the thief leaping to his feet. "When are you going to acquire it?"

"Next week, it's currently under the display of a new security measure I have not yet managed to crack."

"Shall I call the papers and inform them that the great thief has met a system he can't outmaneuver within a minute?"

Arsène lightly smacked his lover, before taking a seat again, curling next to him, ignoring the looks they received. "What are we going to do, now that we've found her?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure we can find another way to pass the time."

--

London, England, 1996

"I hear you have found your new identité?" Arsène said, looking down his nose at the young blond next to him.

"I have, he is a young detective...pretty good from what I hear." Sherlock said, running a hand through his freshly dyed hair, before reaching out, curling a strand of Arsène's brunette locks around his finger. "And what of you, have you found yours?"

'Mm, that would make it far too easy for you, now wouldn't it...detective?" Arsène said, taking the hand playing with his hair and pressing a kiss to the palm of Sherlock's hand before sighing, staring at the long list of flights before him. "Are you sure about this?"

"I miss the chase, Arsène. I miss the thrill of being one step behind you. I miss catching you." Sherlock pulled the brunette into his lap, wrapping his arms around his slender body, nuzzling his thief's neck. "It won't be for long, you know that. I won't let it be for long. I can't be parted from you for that long, and besides, you're not that good."

Arsène scoffed, resting his head on Sherlock's shoulder, trying to imagine living apart from his lover after so long side-by-side. "I got you a gift," Arsène said softly and snapped his fingers, smiling as an elderly gentlemen wheeled a covered cage over to them. "She's young, but she's well trained...I..." Arsène trailed off, removing the cover of the cage, revealing a beautiful sparrow hawk who was glancing around, as if she could see though her hood.

"She's beautiful, thank you." Sherlock said, gently reaching through the bars of the cage to pet the bird. He turned, to reward his love with a kiss, only to find a rose laying on the bench next to him, Arsène and Watson vanished into the crowd.

--

Tokyo, Japan, 2001

The pair pulled apart, smiling at each other before leaning in for another kiss, turning only when a soft cough came from behind them. Jii...or as he was known years ago, Dr. John Watson leaned against the edge of the building, smiling at the pair. "I doubt that Inspector Nakamori would enjoy finding you two in such a position."

"My apologize," Arsène said, sliding the top hat from his head, dropping the bag of coins into it before slipping it back onto his head. "I should go..."

"I will meet you at my house?" Sherlock asked, brushing his fingers over Arsène's cheek, smiling as his lover turned into his touch.

The thief nodded, before turning back to the edge of the building, smiling at the sight below. "Would that I had wings," he whispered, flashing Sherlock a grin before jumping off the edge of the building, his white hang glider opening above him as he soared above the police, reporters and fans below.

Sherlock watched him go, shaking his head before shoving his hands into the pocket of his overcoat, joining Watson as the pair headed down to deal with the police, before meeting with Arsène again. Sherlock's hand curled around the diamond in his pocket, a grin fighting it's way to his face as he wondered what his lover would have waiting for him, after so long apart.