Work Text:
Edgar is actually used to sharing.
From food, to toys, to any kind of thing that can be shared – Edgar has no problems with it, because growing up being surrounded by lots and lots of people while not really having a place for yourself, does that for you, makes you learn how to have a lot, but too much for yourself.
He remembers lending his books to kids that couldn’t afford them; he recalls giving away his toys to a local orphanage after John said he’s old enough to not play with them anymore; he often has to divide his food so Karl can get some without feeling left out.
So. Edgar gets sharing, he’s pretty good at it.
He’d go as far as to say he’s ‘chill’ about it.
But there’s a little difference between sharing your things and sharing your actual living space, because Edgar isn’t used to THAT. He’s always had his own room, his own house, even when he lived with the Allan family, even before that, Edgar pretty much has always had that space for himself.
Until. That’s right. Until.
He’s pretty sure he doesn’t remember agreeing to being Edogawa Ranpo’s boyfriend, verbally, but now there’s a spare toothbrush in his bathroom that he didn’t agree to, either, and yet here we are. Romance, indeed, is a weird thing.
At first, it’s not really noticeable. Edgar is too busy with all the changes in his life to really notice that something is different, but then—
“Why is there a second toothbrush in my bathroom?” he asks that one day when he sees it, and Ranpo looks up from the manuscript Edgar has given him to pass the time and sucks on the lollipop – that he most likely sneaked from Edgar’s secret stash of candy – and shrugs.
“It’s convenient, Poe-kun.” He answers, going back to reading.
So Edgar leaves it be. For now. He’s sure Karl is giving him THE look. The one he gives every time Edgar looks entirely done with life and figuring out stuff.
He can overlook a second toothbrush, because Ranpo really spends most of his time at Edgar’s little place and from the amount of candies he eats, it’s actually recommended to brush his teeth as much as he can.
And yet, after the toothbrush, things get complicated.
The day is dark and cloudy and Edgar wants nothing more than curl up and sleep, the weather making him both motivated to write and tired, and so in the end he ends up on the couch with some background music playing and with a cup of tea in his hand as he quietly enjoys the silence.
However, nothing peaceful ever lasts when it comes to Edgar and soon he listens to Ranpo knocking at the door, insistent little thuds at the wood, and Karl squeaks, excited as Edgar lets the shorter man inside and watches him as he shrugs off his cape and hangs his hat.
It’s a little early, Edgar thinks, for him to be here.
Ranpo doesn’t ask when he sees a plate of cookies ready at the table, instead he takes one and munches on it, somewhat looking a bit annoyed. Edgar quells the thought that maybe he did something to make Ranpo so mad and sits next to him back in his place.
Silence doesn’t last that long.
“I hate incompetent cops,” is the first thing that comes out of his mouth and Edgar lets out a little hum, letting the other know that he’s listening, and it seems to be enough for Ranpo, because he lets himself go just seconds after that. “Why do they request for me if all they want to is question the way I solve the case? And why do I need to explain every little detail they don’t see, like are they that dumb?”
Edgar quietly makes his way into the kitchen, opening one of the cabinets. Ranpo goes on, “I understand they’re not as brilliant as I am. After all, I am the greatest detective in the world, but sometimes they’re not only stupid but also arrogant.”
“Mhm.”
“Today it wasn’t Minoura-san, which by itself was a tragedy, because at least he lets me do my job properly, and they sent some rookie on the case—“
“What was the case?” Edgar butts in quietly, placing a bowl on the kitchen table.
“A murder in the bakery,” Ranpo answers without pausing, “And so they sent that rookie, and that kid had the nerve to interrupt my work, questioning my methods – can you believe that? – and spouting something about contaminating the crime scene.”
Edgar spills the chips into the bowl and asks, “And how did you contaminate the crime scene?”
Ranpo scowls, “I didn’t!”
“Then what did you do?”
“I just took a bagel!”
A beat of silence as Edgar finally turns around and walks back into the room, sending Ranpo a look to which Ranpo answers with an equally indignant expression, “What?”
“I think you aren’t supposed to remove anything from the crime scene, Ranpo-kun.”
“It’s a bagel! Not a murder weapon!”
Edgar finally places the bowl on the table in front of Ranpo and Ranpo immediately takes all of it and hugs it to his chest. Edgar tries to not think about the way it just feels natural to fetch the snacks for him, or let him ruin his couch with a cookie crumbs and sits back down.
“And how did the victim get murdered?”
Ranpo munches on the chips, slowly. “They didn’t. They just choked on the cookie dough.”
“That…,” Edgar trails off, before deciding that it’s not worth asking and he focuses back on Karl when the raccoon jumps back onto his lap, “Amazing.” He finishes off, lamely.
Ranpo nods, “Idiotic, I know. But it’s definitely not the first time I get asked to solve a murder that’s not even a murder.”
Edgar is suddenly overwhelmed with the sudden feeling of respect for the man. He, himself, can’t deal with too large crowds, or too long queue because his patience runs out, while Ranpo deals with things far more irritating on a daily basis.
Ah. Perhaps that’s why he eats so much candy.
As Ranpo gets another cookie, switching between both chips and the plate Edgar placed earlier, he suddenly perks up and turns to him, “And how was yours?”
“My what?”
Ranpo rolls his eyes, “Your day, silly. How was it?”
Edgar thinks of the way it was harder than usual to get out of the bed, and the lousy breakfast he somehow was able to make himself, and hours spend with tea on the couch, staring pointedly somewhere ahead and grimaces, “It was… uneventful.”
“Geez. Thanks for so many details, Poe-kun. Really.”
“I didn’t do much today.” Edgar defends.
“So, what did you do?”
“Technically nothing.”
Ranpo raises an eyebrow. Edgar sighs, “I washed the dishes.”
“…and?”
“And that’s about it.”
Ranpo throws him a look, “So I woke up at six, to get to work, had to deal with dumbasses all day, and all you did was wash the dishes?”
“Yeah.”
“Poe-kun, for someone who always nags me about how important time is, you sure like to waste a lot of it.”
“Oh, shut it,” Edgar grumbles, sinking more into the couch, “Washing the dishes is already a lot. It’s not that—easy.”
Saying that makes him feel stupid. He knows that Ranpo is right, and the silent question of ‘why didn’t you do more?’ hangs in the air, but the day is dark and cloudy and not really suitable for doing anything more than lazing around, and somehow, somehow, Edgar feels like he deserves that one cheat day of not doing more.
Ranpo stares at him for some more, before he looks away. It’s a bit awkward, for a split second, and Edgar considers apologizing and getting up to actually get some of the chores done, but then, Ranpo shrugs, “Fair. Can we make cookies, though?”
“Why do you need more cookie—“ Ranpo points to the empty plate, “Oh.”
“I was very hungry.” Ranpo explains, eyes blinking at him innocently.
“And you didn’t think about eating normal dinner? You had to stuff yourself with cookies?”
“And chips. And you’re the one who offered anyways.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And you love me. So I win, ha!”
Edgar’s heart stutters and he feels a bit too hot despite it being a bit on the cold side. Once again, he’s glad that most of his face is covered by his hair and Ranpo isn’t able to see most of the blush that blooms on his cheeks.
“I guess,” he murmurs to himself, when Karl chirps at him, “I do.”
After the toothbrush, and the personal stash of candy Edgar has in one of his cabinets dedicated for Ranpo, there come the clothes thrown around the living room and in Edgar’s bedroom – that are definitely not Edgar’s clothes, because they’re way too small for Edgar and his cursed height – and in the bathroom.
Sometimes, it’s just a shirt. Other times, it’s a sweater, or even a pair of boxers.
Edgar tells himself that it’s fine, because perhaps Ranpo is just losing them on accident. It happens. He usually comes back for them, too.
But then, Edgar’s dress shirt goes missing.
And appears on Ranpo the next day when the younger man is delivered at his doorstep by Kunikida, a nonchalant smile on his face and. And the shirt. It’s way too big for him and hangs loosely on his body, with the sleeves too long and it’s practically as if Ranpo was drowning in it. It doesn’t fit him at all.
It’s perfect, though. And feels natural. And there’s warmth in Edgar’s chest that wasn’t there before and he feels like smiling at the sight, but doesn’t want to seem creepy – it’s just a shirt, after all, but Ranpo beats him to it, again and twirls around, “Nice, isn’t it?”
“It’s mine.” Edgar chokes out finally.
Ranpo grins, “I know.”
Edgar swallows and takes a deep breath, “Then why do you have it?”
“It’s convenient, Poe-kun!” Ranpo says, unbothered, walking past him as Edgar closes the door a bit numbly, “And you have very comfortable clothes. For example, that red sweater you lent me—“
“When did I even lend you—I didn’t—“
“—Has a very nice feel to it and it doesn’t make my skin itch at all.”
“But—“
“And,” Ranpo turns around, hands behind his back as he leans forwards a bit and smiles, “Sharing is caring, isn’t it?”
The way Ranpo says it, and the wording, it all kind of steals Edgar’s breath away and he doesn’t comment on his missing clothes anymore, or about the clothes laying around everywhere, he doesn’t even twitch when he finds Ranpo’s socks in his laundry.
“Oi, oi, oi, Poe-kun,” Ranpo stares up at the banner above them, “That’s kind of expensive.”
Edgar spares a look at it, before opening the restaurant’s door to let Ranpo in, “Oh, is it?”
Ranpo’s eye twitches, and he throws a disbelieving look over his shoulder, “Isn’t it? Just how rich are you, Poe-kun?”
“I told you that money is not an issue for me, Ranpo-kun,” Edgar shoot back and for a second, he thrived in the moment because at least that part of his life was a surprise for the greatest detective out there, “I can handle it.”
“I can’t let you pay.” Ranpo announces, “It’s too much.”
“You eat my fridge out on a daily basis, this really isn’t much different.” Edgar insists and Ranpo frowns, as if struggling with himself – something Edgar doesn’t see that often – looking conflicted around the elegant tables inside, “But if you’re not comfortable—“
“I am!”
“We can just go where you want to,” Edgar shrugs, “I just—“
He hesitates.
Isn’t it too forward of him? Is he getting ahead of himself after all?
He shifts on his feet, shrugging and hunching his shoulders a bit, “I just wanted to treat you, that’s all.”
There he said it. Embarrassing as it is, he thinks being truthful paid off more times around Ranpo than looking for a cheap excuse and lying.
He dares a glance at Ranpo’s face.
And grows anxious even more, seeing the wide-eyed stare and a bit of red on the usually never bothered face. His mouth closes and opens a few times, and it seems that, for the first time since Edgar met him, Ranpo is completely speechless.
And then, the younger man hastily turns around and waves his hand, “Of course! I knew that!”
“So…” Edgar begins, hopeful, “It’s alright?”
“Of course,” Ranpo’s voice sounds a bit off, maybe a bit higher and the man clears his throat quickly, “I mean. I was just checking, you know. I was worried for your wallet, but I forgot you’re crazy rich, so it’s fine.”
He can’t see his face, and for Edgar, that’s the greatest shame there is, but he sucks it up and happily catches up to Ranpo when the man walks farther into the restaurant.
“Thank you,” Edgar murmurs as politely as he can, but again, Ranpo only waves him off.
“What are you thanking me for, idiot? I only let you waste money on me.”
“Spending money on you would never be a waste,” Edgar protests loudly enough for few heads to turn in their direction.
Ranpo’s head whips his head around, and oh.
He’s all red. All the way up to his ears.
Edgar’s eyes widen and he wants to marvel at the sight, and probably take a picture to remember that moment, but Ranpo’s head ducks down and he mutters curses under his breath, something along the lines of “Stupid, stupid! We’re in public, what the hell are you thinking, Poe-kun—“ and Edgar feels like he should at least feel a bit offended by that.
This time, he only smiles.
Romance, indeed, is a strange thing, Edgar thinks to himself.
Because he doesn’t remember ever asking Ranpo to move in with him, just like he doesn’t remember adding the second toothbrush in the bathroom, or letting Ranpo borrow his clothes or even agreeing to being his boyfriend, but there is, undoubtedly a suitcase full of clothes with Ranpo one day.
Edgar blinks, “Are you going to travel somewhere?”
“No,” Ranpo flicks Edgar on the forehead, walking inside, “We’re having a sleepover.”
“Did I invite you?” Edgar whispers to himself, but Ranpo catches it anyways.
“I invited myself in, duh.”
“I don’t think that’s how normal people do it,” Edgar says but closes the door behind him, “Don’t you know that?”
“Common sense and social norms were never my strong suit, Poe-kun, and you know it.”
“Fair point.” Edgar mutters under his breath.
“What was that?”
“Nothing!”
In the end, they do have a sleepover.
But the suitcase keeps coming and coming, filled with clothes and personal items, and Edgar never throws the second toothbrush in the trash, and he never picks up the clothes on the ground.
And in the end, Ranpo never leaves either.