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By Jigen’s count, Lupin had retired eight times. Seven of those times had been for a woman -- three of which had been Fujiko -- and none of them had lasted longer than three months.
Jigen was never too bothered by it. He knew his partner well enough to know it’d never stick; Lupin is too restless to be out of work and too fickle and irritating to keep a woman long. All Jigen has to do is wait it out until Lupin comes to his senses and things return to their usual rhythm.
So when Lupin once again tells him his criminal escapades are coming to an end, Jigen just laughs.
“I mean it, Jigen,” Lupin insists. He’s sprawled on the sofa of their hideout, their recent spoils of jewels spread around him making him look like some decadent spoiled king. His posture is open and relaxed from the copious amount they’d drunk but his gaze is narrowed and focused. “I’m never going to top this one. It had everything, anything else would pale in comparison.”
Jigen rests his celebratory cigar in the ashtray balanced on his arm rest and pours himself more wine. He has no intention of letting Lupin ruin his buzz. “So what, you’re going to go grow old and useless somewhere, are you?”
“Yeah, yeah!” Lupin jolts up straight, punching the air in excitement. “I’m going to eat and drink all day and fuck all night. That’s what rich men do!”
Jigen snorts into his glass, sloshing wine down his hand and staining his cuff. “You do that already, moron.”
“Well, now I’ll have the time to really dedicate myself to it.” There’s little point in arguing beyond the satisfaction of telling Lupin he’s an idiot, so Jigen just listens to him ramble on about his new life of luxury indulgently, taking up his cigar once again to blow smoke rings that Lupin cuts through absently with his gesticulating hands.
When he and Lupin part ways, Jigen tries his hand at retirement too just to see if he likes the taste of it. He travels a lot, touching base with old friends -- the ones who haven’t actively tried to murder either of them over the years. After that he finds himself retracing their steps, seeking out the settings of past capers he’d enjoyed.
In Sicily he finds an old peeling wanted poster in a phone box with his and Lupin’s face on and it makes him chuckle. If Lupin had been with him he would have taken it to show him but instead he leaves it up, liking the idea of leaving a little piece of them in this corner of the world.
When three months go by Jigen pretends he doesn't notice.
He’s in Munich when he’s first approached about work. He considers turning it down but his fingers have been itching with idleness and he’s been worried about his magnum going so long without use. Jigen takes the job and doesn’t bother haggling for a bigger cut of the score.
Later in the back of the getaway van, the spoils at his feet and a stranger's shoulder rubbing against his own, Jigen realises he's disappointed the job had gone off without a hitch.
Afterwards sitting in his hotel room nursing a beer, he pulls out a card from his wallet and unfolds it. A cartoon of Lupin’s face winks up at him with a phone number typed neatly beneath it in black ink, looking oddly professional compared to the rest of the bright, juvenile design. Lupin had given it to him the last time they had spoken.
“What do you want me to do with this?” Jigen had asked when he handed it to him.
Lupin laughed at him then stuck out his tongue. “It’s a phone number, genius, use your imagination.”
“This is your first step at normal domestic bliss, is it? Having your own telephone?”
Lupin’s smile turned oddly sincere as he looked at him. “You ring that and you’ll get me, I promise.” He rapped the card in Jigen’s hand with his knuckle. “I may be retiring but that doesn’t mean I won’t be there for a friend in need.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jigen said, tucking the card away, his face feeling slightly warm. “Like I’ll ever use it.” You’ll come to me first, he thought, you always do.
It was the first time Jigen had gotten it out since then. He turns the card over in his hands. The cartoon Lupin was taunting and annoying. Jigen remembers sitting in a hundred hotel rooms and hideouts, watching Lupin giggle as he drew notes just like this to send to his mark, the gentleman thief’s calling card.
Jigen let out an annoyed grunt and shoved it unceremoniously back in his wallet, not caring that the edges were bent where it lay in his pocket, pressed flat against his chest.
*
After a handful more uneventful jobs, Jigen buys a plane ticket to Japan. He hires a car at Osaka Itami, stocks it with supplies, then drives out until he's past the last small cluster of buildings that mark civilization.
It's nightfall when he spots a small traditional dojo, a break in the wash of nature. He’s only managed to find his way by following the trail of lit torches that guided him through the rocky terrain, which he suspects are a very recent addition to the Iga countryside. The car’s headlights illuminate Goemon as he pulls in. He's sitting utterly still by the entrance, Zantetsuken resting against his chest. He stands effortlessly when Jigen sidles out the car.
“Welcome, Jigen,” he says, offering him a stiff bow of his head. Jigen snorts at his formality and pulls him into a bear hug, laughing harder at the squeal it elicits from him.
Life at the dojo was quiet but it suited Jigen. It was like the first lungful of clean air after a lifetime in the city. Goemon was different here, more stoic and uptight than usual if that was possible, his mind solely focused on his training, but Jigen always enjoyed his company.
“Hey, Goemon, your ducklings are here,” Jigen calls to him from his sprawl on the grassy area beside the training ground, indicating to a group of local kids that had just appeared, huddled and whispering. A few braver ones point to the samurai openly. Goemon pauses mid pose, foot still hovering in the air, and glances over to them. A faint pink rises in his cheeks.
“Do not call them that,” he says, resuming his flow.
“I think it’s adorable, they can’t leave you alone.” Jigen grins around his cigarette, expelling smoke through his nose in a huff of a laugh. The young trainees were now trying to mimic Goemon’s poses as he does them, their form sloppy but inherent skill evident in most of them. Jigen watches them with a smile. “They really love you here.”
“They are kind to let me train here, even though I’m not part of their clan.” Goemon shoots Jigen a reproachful look. “Kinder still to allow me a guest, especially one who is not even a samurai.”
Jigen gave a half shoulder shrug, his foot bouncing in the air where it was hooked over his knee. “Me and sensei are like that,” he says, holding up his hand to show his crossed fingers. The clan elder liked Jigen well enough after he’d shown him a few trick shots with his magnum, a weapon he seemed to find very amusing.
Goemon glares at him. “Sensei is a very honourable man, he has taught me much.”
Jigen taps the gathering ash off his cigarette. “Gotta say, not sure what else you could learn, pal,” he says, “You’re the best of the best.”
Goemon gives a little harumph that says all too clearly and what would you know about it, gunslinger.
“Mind you, you might need a little refresher on honour, that charming blonde we met in Paris might have taken the sheen off yours a little.” Jigen twists around to look up at Goemon and snickers when he sees his already red cheeks darken.
Goemon’s rigorous training did not exclude everything, Jigen was pleased to discover, and he could easily be persuaded to partake in a glass of sake that Jigen had brought with him in the evenings.
“It would be dishonourable to turn down a gift,” Goemon says when he accepts a glass.
“Atta boy,” Jigen says, pouring it out liberally.
Jigen had been given lodgings off the main building in a small shack he suspected was once a storage room given the size, but it meant they could laugh and talk as loud as they pleased without Goemon being paranoid of being overheard. Jigen even got him to join in a rousing rendition of Brown Eyed Girl, which Jigen had bought on vinyl one summer and had caught Goemon playing on repeat when he thought he was out with Lupin.
“This is good sake,” Goemon hiccups, crawling over Jigen’s splayed legs to refill his glass. Jigen hums in agreement, his hat so low over his eyes his cigarette brushes the brim every time he takes a puff.
“Only the best for my pal,” he says as Goemon slumps down next to him, sloshing sake down his front. Jigen lets his head roll onto his shoulder, happy to stay there until he passes out.
“Lupin used to always make us drink red wine,” Goemon says, disturbing the silence. “I found it far too rich.”
The reference to their former partner makes Jigen’s stomach twist, despite them mentioning him often over the course of the evening. For a moment he’d forgotten they weren’t waiting for Lupin to return from some tryst and join them in their drinking.
Jigen watches the rise and fall of Goemon's exposed chest for a moment then asks, “You heard from him at all? Lupin, I mean.” He keeps his voice light and casual.
“No,” Goemon says and Jigen can hear the slight frown in his voice. “Why do you ask?”
“Just making conversation,” Jigen shrugs, not sure whether he’s disappointed or relieved.
*
Madrid was unseasonably hot. Jigen sweats through his linen shirt as he weaves between market stalls, jacket slung over one shoulder, only half taking in the items on display.
It’s not how he remembers the city and it throws him a little. Last time it had seemed cold after a month in Morocco. All they’d had with them were the awful hawaiian shirts Lupin had insisted on buying and a pouch full of diamonds he was hiding god knows where. Fleeing to the spanish city had been unplanned but it was the next flight going and pops was hot on their heels. They were still giddy, the excitement of a job somehow well done enduring over the escape and plane ride.
They’d gotten a hotel room and trashed it just to blow off steam, so thoroughly Jigen had felt bad but it didn’t stop him throwing glasses for Lupin to try and hit with the lampshade. It had been stupid and childish, and one of the best nights Jigen could half remember.
He seeks out the hotel again just to look at it and finds it’s been remodeled, looking nearly unrecognizable.
Sick of the heat, Jigen ducks into a bar that looks dark and cool and nabs a free stool at the bar. There’s an abandoned newspaper that he flicks through as he waits for the bartender to be free. He’s taken to scanning any paper he can get his hands on lately, looking for any mention of handy work he might recognise. He’s annoyed with himself when he once again finds nothing.
A square black napkin is tossed in front of him then a tumbler is placed on it. Jigen folds down a corner of the paper to look at it.
“Bourbon,” says the guy behind the bar, his English heavily accented. He’s grinning at Jigen, warm and open. He’s the kind of handsome that has no business smiling at Jigen.
“Is it that obvious I’m a tourist?” Jigen says, closing the newspaper.
“I can always spot a cowboy.” The barman’s smile widens and Jigen smiles back, not bothering to correct him. He’s close enough.
Jigen’s not that mad on bourbon but he likes the way this guy pours it so he sinks a couple more as they talk. He finds out his name is Marlon. “Like the film star,” he laughs, easy and deep, and Jigen likes that too. The bar isn’t busy at this hour apart from the odd regular who needs a top up so Jigen gets his full attention. It’s that more than the booze that gives his cheeks a rosy flush.
He returns the next day hovering hesitantly in the doorway before Marlon greets him like an old friend, already pouring him a drink. After that Jigen sees no reason not to keep returning.
“I don’t think I could be a bartender,” Jigen tells him one night when the evening rush had cleared out. “I’d drink more than my pay cheque covered.”
Marlon chuckles, running a cloth over a glass that’s been clean for a while now. “Hey, you play your cards right and customers will buy most of your drinks.”
Jigen waves a hand dismissively, leaving a trail of cigarette smoke in its wake. “Well then I definitely couldn’t cut it. No one’s gonna be buying me drinks.”
“Oh, I don’t know, a good few of these have been on the house.” Their eyes meet before Jigen looks away, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “Anyway, I think you'd make a good one,” Marlon continues. “The most important thing is knowing people. You need to be able to judge a person with one look to know what they want from you, whether that’s a friendly ear, a cheery smile or just to be left to drink in peace.”
Kinda like a con job, Jigen thinks absently. "I never realised there was so much to it."
“It's not that bad, ” Marlon shrugs. “I like to think of it as just trying to make a customer’s day a little better. Make sure they leave feeling happier than they did coming in." He winks at Jigen. "Sometimes it’s a more enjoyable task than others.”
Jigen catches himself staring and pretends to be busy with his glass. It’s been a while since he’s been around someone with such unshakably optimism. “So what was your first impression of me?”
“You?” Marlon finally sets down his glass and studies Jigen, considering. Jigen resists the urge to squirm. “Everything about your posture screamed to leave you alone, I think it's an act you've just about perfected. But there was something about you that made me want to push past all that and talk to you. You looked.... I don’t know, like you were someone I’d have a good conversation with. Maybe it's just the cowboy in you." Jigen huffs a laugh, feeling embarrassed, half wishing he’d never asked. Marlon leans closer so no one else can hear them over the tinny music that plays in the background.
"Or maybe it was just because I wanted to get a look at you properly under all that hat and hair." He tips Jigen’s hat back off his face. Jigen doesn’t know what he sees there to make him smile like that. "There now," Marlon's voice is so soft Jigen feels himself leaning into it. "I was right. I knew you'd have honest eyes."
Jigen takes a sharp breath and looks away. Guilt rises hot and acidic in his throat. He’d never felt more like a fraud in his life. He pays up his bill shortly after that despite Marlon’s protests and returns to his hotel room, telling the girl at the front desk he’d be checking out in the morning on the way.
Alone in his room, he downs all the hard liquor he finds in the minibar then goes into the bathroom and roughly jerks himself off, the tail end of his tie stuffed in his mouth so he doesn’t make a sound.
After he sits in the dark quiet, the card from his wallet out on the table before him.
*
When a year passes, Jigen finds himself back in New York. He’s never been one for homesickness but he likes to recalibrate somewhere familiar. The city is as restless as he feels and it’s easy to get swept along in the current of busy life here. After weeks of sleepy Europe it’s a welcome change.
Jigen is recognised in an old haunt by a group of ageing crooks who beckon him over. He’s made popular quickly by buying them all a round of drinks.
“Hey, you still hangin’ around with that little french fella?” one asks him.
“Nah,” Jigen says, knocking back his drink. “Not anymore.”
The next morning he crawls off his buddy’s couch he’d crashed on in desperate need of cigarettes and an aspirin. After a stop at the nearest bodega and with a cigarette between his teeth, he begins walking, hands deep in his pockets, the cold morning breeze pleasant on his tired face.
Although he’s been back to New York half a dozen times in recent years, he’d never returned to his old neighbourhood. After the mob pulled him out of it, there’d never been much point in going back. He finds himself there now though, retracing old steps down streets he could probably weave through blindfolded.
It’s not changed much, not like other parts of the Bronx where money has been sunk into. There’d be no point wasting money here.
Jigen stands on the corner of his old street, letting life unfold around him. He’s left well alone, the magnum that flashes from inside his jacket makes sure of that, and no one here connects the man in the nice suit and polished shoes to the scrawny, lonely kid who no one thought would make it to sixteen.
He takes in the place that’s intensely familiar and yet unrecognisable in the thrilling, high-flying life he’d lived with Lupin. This was his hometown, the streets that had raised him, and yet he could think of half a dozen hideouts he'd shared with the thief that had felt more like home.
When he finishes the last cigarette in the packet he turns and leaves, not looking back.
He stops at the first clean looking phone box he passes. With the door shut the world outside feels muffled and his breathing sounds too loud. He pulls out the folded card from his breast pocket.
There was no harm in calling just for a catch up, he thinks. He didn't have to ask anything of Lupin. Just hear his voice.
His heart is pounding against his chest when he punches in the numbers into the keypad, his knee rattling against the glass wall where it thumps out a jittery rhythm.
The automated ringing tone trills out endlessly until a robotic female voice tells him there’s no response. He tries twice more unsuccessfully then slams the phone back into its cradle. He picks it up and slams it again and again, until the mouthpiece dangles from it’s wires. He leaves the phone hanging uselessly from its cord, swinging like a pendulum, tossing the card onto the phone box floor as he goes.
*
Jigen returns to his hotel room late. He’d spent the day and most of the night down in Atlantic City, winning a few grand at poker then losing most of it on the tables. He whistles tunelessly, trying to recall the song that had been playing in his taxi. It had been a little slow and maudlin but Jigen always enjoyed the blues.
He keeps whistling even as he sees a shadow moving under his door frame caused by lights he didn’t leave on. The tune ends on one last long note as Jigen draws his magnum slowly, his other hand on the door handle. The door hadn’t even bounced back off the inner wall before Jigen’s in the room, knee to the floor, gun drawn.
Lupin blinks at him. He’s standing by the sofa, a glass of wine halfway to his lips. “Ay-oi, kind of a cold welcome, don’t you think?”
Jigen rises slowly, eyes wide, his hand slipping his gun back into its holster automatically. “Lupin?” he says, voice a little rough. Lupin looks completely unchanged from how Jigen remembers him. Like he’d just stepped out for cigarettes.
“Who else did you expect? The queen of Sheb-aaah-” The ‘ah’ of the word is extended into a yelp as Jigen launches himself at Lupin, knocking him and his glass of wine flying back over the couch, sending the whole thing toppling backwards.
They scrabble on the floor. Lupin was taken by surprise so Jigen has the upper hand for a moment. He pins Lupin face down to the floor, his flailing limbs trapped underneath him. Rage is pumping through Jigen like adrenaline, his teeth are gritted with it, his grip on Lupin excessively tight. “You bastard, Lupin,” he spits, “you fucking bastard!”
Lupin’s retort, whatever it was, is lost into the carpet. His thrashing legs catch Jigen in the back and he grunts, his grip slipping.
“What are you doing, you maniac?” Lupin manages to get out, his neck craning back. “Get off me!”
Lupin’s arm nearly twists out from under him before Jigen redoubles his grip, pressing his full weight down to keep him in place. “I hear nothing from you for an entire year then you just show up in my room, drinking my wine?” He lets out an oof when Lupin’s head rears back and connects with his face with a dull crunch. Lupin scrabbles out from under him while he’s busy clutching at his streaming nose.
“What are you talking about, you’re the one who called me,” Lupin says indignantly, his face turned down into a pout. “I came as fast as I could. Would have been here sooner if you’d actually left me a message telling me where you were!”
“What?” Jigen says thickly through his bloody nose. Lupin’s got a split lip. It's slightly puffy and red. Good, Jigen thinks as his nose throbs.
“You phoned me, remember? I know it was you as you’re the only person I gave that number to, so don’t bother denying it.” Lupin heaves himself up, grimacing at the wine that’s soaked the back of his jacket. “It took a little work to trace the call,” he continues, “But once I discovered it came from New York I knew exactly where to find you. We stayed here on that Guggenheim job, didn't we? You loved the view.” He flashes Jigen that half grin of his that meant he knew Jigen knew he was being clever. It shrank a little when Jigen didn’t return it. “Here,” he says, handing Jigen a pressed white handkerchief from his pocket. Jigen accepts it begrudgingly and mops up the mess of his face.
Shame is winning out against the anger in his belly. He'd written off the phone call, thinking Lupin had just forgotten about the line, or simply just moved on, figuratively and literally. Jigen can see Lupin in his peripherals, sitting crossed legged on the carpet, staring at him apprehensively with those big doe eyes. Clearly he was expecting a different welcome from Jigen and it's understandable why he’s confused. Jigen has no right to be angry, no right to Lupin’s life or his time.
Jigen’s head is pounding so he leans back and lets it rest against the upturned sofa. “You better have brought me some cigarettes from duty free,” he mutters and Lupin laughs.
“Of course I did. Might have smoked most of them on the way over here though.” Jigen chuckles and tosses the bloody handkerchief at Lupin to make him squeal. The internal clock that had been counting down the days resets. Zero days without Lupin.
*
Lupin had gotten his heart broken, because of course he had. Though he doesn’t seem too cut up about it as he regales Jigen with the tale between bites of the burger he’d ordered on Jigen’s room service.
“She’d studied art history but had never left Romania, can you believe that? Imagine having all that knowledge and only Romanian art to look at,” Lupin says, giving an exaggerated shudder.
Jigen expels a plume of smoke, unamused. “I take it you broadened her horizons.”
“Don’t make it sound smutty!” Lupin whines but he quickly shifts into a grin. “It was amazing, Jigen. I’d never looked at art like the way she showed me. Meeting someone who can make you see the world through a completely different lens, show you what makes it beautiful and wonderful! Can you even imagine what that’s like?”
Jigen grunts noncommittally, not willing to admit that yes, yes he did. “So you’ve been swanning around with this girl all year then?”
“A year?” Lupin feigns surprise. “It’s never been that long? Is it really March already?” Jigen knows when Lupin is being deliberately obtuse but lets it go. He can tell he’s over the girl.
“So what about you,” Lupin continues, tone changing with the topic. “You been busy with a job? That why you rung me?”
Jigen blinks. He’d forgotten Lupin was only here because Jigen had asked him to be. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, there was a job that I thought I could tempt you back with but it fell through.”
“Oh?” Lupin says, interest piqued.
“Probably too small fry for you anyway.”
“Ah,” Lupin nods. “Well, why don’t we find some other fun to have in this town!”
Jigen shifts in his seat, embarrassed. “Look, Lupin, you don’t have to stay here on my account. If you have to get back to...whatever.”
Lupin chews his burger thoughtfully. “You know,” he says, smacking his lips, “I’ve had just about enough of retirement."
“Oh yeah?” Jigen says, a grin spreading across his face.
“Yeah.” Lupin licks his fingers clean. “Let’s steal some shit.”
*
They take a Van Dyck from The Met just to wet Lupin’s appetite. It’s an easy job, but it still makes Jigen’s pulse race. They leave the painting tucked in Jigen’s bed in the hotel room when they check out because Lupin can’t be bothered to wait around for a fence. Jigen bursts out laughing every time he thinks about it.
Lupin doesn’t want to fly again so soon so they take a car, pick a direction, and drive. They’ve been driving an hour when they pull up at a stop light outside a bank.They turn to each other in unison, matching grins on their faces.
The light turns green as they dash out the bank, alarms blaring, $100 bills spilling out of every orifice in their clothing. As Lupin speeds the car away, Jigen throws handfuls of cash out the window at the staring passers by. He can’t stop laughing, he feels like he’s high.
They drive and drive. Eventually the rocking of the car pulls Jigen into a doze. Sleep had been elusive lately but here in the familiar scene of sitting in the passenger seat of a too small car, Lupin’s hand occasionally brushing his thigh as he changes gear, he finds it comes easy. When he wakes, he catches Lupin looking at him with a soft smile. “Eyes on the road, man,” Jigen mutters, pulling his hat down over his eyes.
Later in a new hotel room and a continent between them and the NYPD, Lupin shows Jigen a thick binder he’d put together over the past year. Jigen lets out a low whistle as he flicks through it. “Hardly a quiet retirement, Lupin. There’s gotta be over a hundred plans here."
Lupin shrugs. "Retirement was fun but I needed to scratch the itch somehow. This was almost as good as actually doing them."
Jigen wants to say something snide, maybe point out Lupin could’ve done these jobs with him whenever he wanted, but he holds his tongue. "You got a favourite?” he says instead.
Lupin grins. “You bet I do.”
*
Jigen should have guessed that Lupin's grand return would be a spectacle. He never did need much of a reason to show off. The Black Moon Opal had made a splash last year after it broke records for being the highest selling stone this century. The private buyer had lent it out to Cape Town’s museum and for a month after it’s placement Jigen had woken every morning expecting news of Lupin making moves on it. Now it seems that Lupin had waited long enough.
Jigen shivers in his perch on the rooftop opposite the museum, the night air biting. He didn't mind being relegated to sniper, even if he would have preferred to be in the fray with Lupin. Lupin had just been too excited to do everything himself.
“I’ll see you on the other side, partner,” Lupin had said when they parted ways in the shadow of the museum, his excited grin almost splitting his face.
How did you ever think you could give this up? Jigen thought, as he watched Lupin slip seamlessly into the crowd of lingering tourists.
Now Jigen shifts in his position flat on his belly, stretching out his hand where it had cramped slightly from gripping the stock. The wind whistles, the only sound in the still night, though not for long. His sights are trained on the third window on the top floor of the museum, which had been dark until a light flickers on, illuminating the ordinary looking office. The unmistakable shape of Zenigata barrels into the room followed by a sweaty little man clutching a handkerchief to his forehead.
“Hey there, pops,” Jigen mutters to himself, a smile spreading over his face. “Long time no see.”
The smaller man flits about looking panicked while Zenigata remains stubbornly still, eyes fixated at a point above him. It only takes a minute before Lupin comes crashing into the room from the ceiling, bringing bits of plaster down with him. He straightens, springing up like a jack in the box, dusting himself off without a scratch. That had always been a point of fascination for Jigen, how life could just bounce off Lupin without leaving a mark.
Lupin blocks Jigen’s view of the rest of the room, but he can picture the scene that’s playing out inside. Lupin playing the fool who’s plan had been rumbled and Zenigata giving another premature victory speech about finally capturing him. Jigen would laugh but he doesn’t want to disrupt his position.
Jigen’s sight is now trained solely on Lupin. He watches his arms flail about as he gives Zenigata a show -- they haven’t seen each other in over a year after all -- then Lupin’s arms fold behind his back and a hand counts down, three, two, one.
Jigen shifts his aim to the small metal cased box that's placed on the wall right next to the window and fires off a single perfect shot. The bullet hits the fuse box and the power to the entire building shuts off, plunging them into blackness. He might have imagined it, but Jigen thinks he can hear the infuriated yell of “Lupin!” all the way from his rooftop.
Jigen lights up a cigarette, expelling a lungful of smoke, satisfied. Now he can sit back and enjoy the show.
It plays out exactly how Lupin had described. Lupin makes it up to the museum roof right on time for the fireworks to begin, drowning his silhouette in glittering lights. The rockets form a few lewd gestures that make Jigen chuckle before spelling out “Love always, Lupin III” followed by his classic insignia. The airshow had been ostentatious, especially the personalised, reinforced hot air balloon that carries Lupin to safety, but the lights rigged up all over the blacked out building that lit up to flash Lupin’s name as he floated to freedom were just ridiculous.
Jigen flicks his finished cigarette off the building when it’s over, imagining Zenigata’s rage reddened face as Lupin slips through his fingers yet again. “Bet you missed him as much as I did, pops,” Jigen says into the night.
Lupin is hyper afterwards. He can’t stop moving, almost bouncing off the walls. A hotel room is too small for him so Jigen takes him out drinking. It takes a few rounds to stop Lupin’s legs from jittering.
Late into the night, in their little tucked away booth in the bar, Lupin pulls the opal from his pocket and holds it up to the light. “Look at this baby,” he says, his voice not quite slurring but making a valiant effort. “Shall we buy this bar with it so we get free drinks?”
“You say the stupidest things sometimes, man,” Jigen snorts, pulling Lupin closer with an arm around his neck and ruffling his hair. Lupin’s been half sprawled over him for a while and Jigen should push him off but doesn’t. “Come on, put it away before someone sees.”
Lupin does a little trick with his fingers where he rolls the opal between them then with a flick it disappears. “Show off,” Jigen mutters, no bite behind the words, and Lupin laughs.
When things have been quiet between them for a moment Lupin sighs happily then says, “God, I’ve missed this. There’s nothing like the feeling after a successful job, a drink in your hand and good buddy by your side. Why’d I ever stop?”
“Why did you?” Jigen says, voice sharper than he had intended. It pierces the mood and Lupin stiffens.
“You know why,” Lupin says, voice slightly cautious. “I’d just done the best job of my life, I felt burnt out.”
“Yeah,” Jigen says, knowing he should let it go. “But you must’ve known that it’d never last. I mean you’ve done it before and you always come back. You live for this shit, man, you could never really give it up.” Lupin sits forward and tops up his already half full glass, leaving Jigen’s side he was just pressed up against feeling cold.
“What does it matter to you, man? You just trying to make a point or something?” Jigen doesn’t know what he was trying to do. Maybe make Lupin admit something but he didn’t know what.
“Forget I said anything,” he says, pulling out two cigarettes and offering one to Lupin, which he accepts. "Let's get another bottle."
Lupin doesn’t bring up his absence again so neither does Jigen. They keep doing jobs, making their way through Lupin’s binder of ideas and it’s almost as if there had never been a break at all.
In Istanbul, they flee a swarm of police cars on a motorcycle Lupin had swiped from a delivery driver after ditching their own vehicle. Jigen has blood in his mouth from a punch he’d caught on the chin from a guard and his sweat stings his eyes. They’ve been in worse situations than this but he’s clinging to Lupin like he’s scared for his life. He can’t hear anything over the roar of the engine and the wind whipping by but he can feel every time Lupin laughs where he’s pressed flush against his back. Even when the sirens are faint in the distance he can’t seem to lessen his grip.
A month later in Lisbon, Jigen wakes in their hideout to find Lupin gone. He sits at the small kitchenette table and chain smokes until the sun is low in the sky. He tenses when he hears the scrape of the key in the lock. Lupin walks in backwards, arms ladened with shopping bags, humming pleasantly.
“Just like you, Jigen, sitting around daydreaming while I’m out doing chores,” Lupin says, his voice taking a mock reprimand tone as he hefts the bags on the table in front of Jigen. “Here, help me put this away.”
Jigen can’t move for a moment, relief flooding his body, then he stands and begins helping him unpack, half listening to Lupin’s story of how he’d spent all day searching all over town for the right parts to the new transmitter he was making. Jigen’s hands are shaking slightly from all the nicotine in his system.
“Next time you could leave a note telling me what you’re doing,” he mutters when Lupin leans past him to put away the coffee.
“Oh, Jigen dear, you’re such a worrier,” Lupin scoffs, abandoning the groceries to put on some music.
Things come to a head in Parmana when a job goes bad. Jigen might have suspected things would go wrong as they’d been on a lucky streak for a while and good things never last. They were disguised as electricians in the country house of kingpin, Tovar, when they’re interrupted stealing the Cassatt painting that hung over the bed in the master bedroom. Tovar’s wife had come home early to, ironically, catch her philandering husband in the act. They barely make it out with their lives. Tovar has a veritable army of men at his disposal and it’s only Jigen shooting down the enormous chandelier in the entrance hall that buys them the few seconds they need to make it out the house in one piece.
The chase that follows is brutal and lengthy. Their car looks like a target practice from all the bullets lodged in it and they’ve lost all the windows and Lupin’s door. Jigen fires as fast as he can reload his gun at the incessant number of cars in persistent pursuit. He loses track of the amount of vehicles they send careening off the mountainside to crash in a fiery wreck below.
“I’m out,” Jigen says in a desperate rasp, slumping back down in his seat, adrenaline keeping the deep ache in his overexerted firing arm at bay. “Lupin, what do we do?”
“You hold onto your hat, partner,” Lupin says, a manic glint in his eye, and Jigen barely has time to brace himself before Lupin swerves the car off the road and down the mountain. The car lurches violently over the uneven terrain, branches scratching at them as Lupin weaves between the trees. Jigen’s eyes are tightly shut but he can hear crashes from behind as cars with less skilled drivers are blighted on the hillside.
Just when Jigen thinks the car won’t take any more, the road abruptly ends and they’re lifted off the hillside. There’s a moment of weightlessness. Jigen’s stomach lurches up into his throat, then the car comes crashing back down to earth on the flat ground at the foot of the slope. Lupin spins the wheel as fast as he can against the force of it but they’ve come at the landing too fast and the car keels over, rolling off the road. Jigen feels like he’s been thrown in a blender as the car turns over and over on itself, eventually coming to a stop with an unpleasant crunch.
It takes a moment before Jigen is able to open his eyes. Longer still for him to realise he’s still breathing. His lungs feel too tight. He must have broken a rib or two where his seat belt had strained against his chest.
“You alright, Lupin?” he says, his voice sounding reedy and thin. He turns stiffly in his seat and finds it empty. “Lupin,” he repeats, voice panicked. He forces his legs into action and kicks open the dented passenger door, spilling out onto the floor when it finally gives.
Their pursuers had either all been taken out or given up on the chase as the scene is still and quiet. Staggering up, he spots Lupin a few feet from the road. He’s still where he lies in the dirt.
“Lupin!” Jigen rushes to his side. “Fuck, Lupin, you better friggin wake up. You don’t get to leave again.” He gently rolls him over, cushioning him at the elbow and back of the head. Lupin’s face is slack, almost serene. There’s a cut on his forehead that’s oozing blood.
Fear grips Jigen like a choke hold but he swallows it down and begins checking Lupin for injuries. When he presses on his chest he feels Lupin move under him then a giggling voice says, “Cut it out, I’m ticklish there!”
Jigen startles back, pulling away his hands like he’d been burned. He stares down at Lupin as he cracks an eye open with a grin. “I got you, didn’t I?” Lupin sits up with a rocking motion, giggling like a kid. “The way you held my dying body!” He mock swoons, “Oh, Jigen-chan, you really do care!”
Jigen has him flat on his back again before he even realises what he’s doing.
“Hey, Jigen, watch it-”
“Take this seriously,” Jigen bellows at him, his voice sounding ragged and raw. He shakes Lupin by his lapels. “Take this fucking seriously!”
Take me seriously, remains unsaid.
“Jigen...” Lupin doesn’t finish the thought. It hangs between them as Jigen heaves in breaths above him, still clutching at Lupin’s jacket.
Jigen shoves off him, rolling away and sitting up, his back to Lupin. He holds his throbbing ribs. Absently he realises somewhere along the way he’d lost his hat.
“Jigen,” Lupin repeats softly, like he’s trying to pacify a wild animal, but Jigen cuts him off.
“I'll go check on the car,” he says, standing briskly. “See if I can get it running.”
*
They carry on like nothing happened. Like Lupin hadn’t been gone for a year and Jigen hadn’t freaked out on him twice. They leave Venezuela promptly and travel to Brussels, for no other reason other than Lupin says he fancied their chocolate. The new safehouse is a beautiful thatched apartment tucked away above a bakery and every morning Jigen wakes to the smell of fresh bread. He doesn’t know why Lupin opted for it over a short stay hotel as they haven't got a job to be working on and Lupin gives no indication of when they will. “You need to rest those ribs,” is all he says when Jigen asks.
Lupin acts much the same as always, chattering on about everything and anything that comes to mind, but Jigen will catch him looking at him, considering, like he’s waiting for Jigen to snap again. It leaves Jigen irritated and surly. He takes to roaming the city alone as the quiet cohabitation with Lupin that had once been solace now feels suffocating. He comes home late most nights and finds Lupin’s bedroom door closed or the apartment empty.
After a week of this, Jigen lets himself in to find Lupin cooking in the kitchen, Belgian radio blaring, tinny and loud. “Oi, Jigen, have you eaten?” Lupin asks, not turning from where he’s stirring a large pot on the stove. Whatever he’s making smells delicious.
“Yeah, I’ve had something, thanks,” Jigen says, easing himself down onto the couch with a slight wince.
“Those ribs still giving you trouble?” Lupin calls out, leaning backwards to peer around the open kitchen door to look at him. Jigen waves him off. They don’t hurt all that much anymore but the odd twinge reminds him that he doesn’t heal as fast as he once did.
“It’s fine, don’t fuss.” He can hear Lupin mutter curses in French, a hiss of something spilling on the stove, then the radio is turned off.
There’s a small parcel tied with a bow on the coffee table. “Hey, Lupin, what’s this?” Jigen asks, picking it up to examine it. He frowns. “Fujiko’s not in town, is she?”
“Why not open it and find out,” comes the sing song reply from the kitchen. Jigen’s half expecting a prank but curiosity wins out. He sheds the wrapping and finds, nestled in a velvet setting, a gold cigarette lighter. It’s finely crafted with an Art Deco design that was only really in vogue in the twenties and thirties. It's clearly second hand from the signs of wear here and there. Jigen turns it over a few times, still looking for what makes it special. He feels eyes on him and looks up to find Lupin watching him from the doorway.
“Well?” Lupin says. He’s smiling like he’s the only one in on the joke.
“Well, what? It’s an old lighter,” Jigen says, annoyed at not getting it. “This for a case or something?”
“Not just any old lighter, it’s Humphrey Bogart’s lighter! The one he used in that Casablanca picture! It's for you!” There’s a beat where Lupin just stares at him expectantly.
“Oh, right,” Jigen says, just to fill the silence.
“You like him, don’t you?” Lupin says, sounding a little less sure of himself now. Jigen was surprised he even remembered. He’d taken Lupin with him to see The Big Sleep when it had screened in New York once. He’d tried to talk to him about Bogart afterwards but all Lupin was interested in was Lauren Bacall.
“Why’d you get it for me?” Jigen asks.
Lupin shrugs with a laugh, tucking his hands in his pockets. “It’s just a gift, dear, no need to take it so seriously.” The cavalier way he said it is the last straw.
Jigen stands abruptly, pacing to the other side of the room, the lighter clenched in his fist. “Don’t friggin do that, Lupin,” he mutters.
Lupin blinks, surprised. “Do what?”
“Don’t treat me like… Getting me silly little presents to buy my good graces. I’m not fuckin’ Fujiko!”
“I’m very aware of who you are, Jigen,” Lupin says, the humour gone from his voice. “That’s not what this is.”
“Then what is it?” Jigen whirls around to look at him. “Since when do you get me shit like this, huh? You think this is what I want?” He flings the lighter at him, hard, and Lupin deftly catches it, his eyes never leaving Jigen’s face.
“What do you want, Jigen?” Lupin is looking at him like he genuinely wants to know. Like he's someone who gives a shit what Jigen thinks.
Jigen is thinking clearer than he has in months when he strides forward, pulls Lupin close, and kisses him. There’s no romance in it, it's a desperate, savage thing. More a cry of Is this what you wanted to know? Happy now? than a loving declaration. Jigen doesn’t care if it gets him punched, doesn’t care if Lupin never speaks to him again. After a year of indecision, of willing silence to speak for him, he’s finally doing something.
He rips himself back quickly, shoving Lupin away. If he'd been a third party watching the interaction he might have found the abrupt end funny.
Lupin is left wide eyed, mouth slightly open. There’s a quiet thump as the lighter slips from his fingers and falls to the carpeted floor. "Jigen," he says, voice wretchedly soft. It's unbearable. Jigen forces himself not to look away.
Lupin's hands when they reach for him are so gentle it somehow feels worse than a punch. They cajole him into another kiss, cupping his neck and tugging at his waist. There’s a push and pull, and for a moment Jigen thinks this can’t work, won’t believe it can, then Lupin gets his hand in his hair, knocking his hat out the way and moving him so they slot together, and then it does.
Jigen sighs into it, not sure whether relief or pleasure is fuelling him more. Lupin kisses like he expected him to, greedy and demanding. He's the first to prise open Jigen’s lips to lick into him but Jigen’s the one to get Lupin gasping, chasing him when he pulls back.
Jigen puts a little distance between them then captures Lupin’s jaw in his hand, holding him steady. He studies his face, watching for any sign of humour, of a punchline waiting to drop. Lupin’s eyebrows are knitted at first, then they smooth into a fond smile.
“I want you too, Jigen,” he says, hands coming up to touch at his elbow, at the small of his back. His eyes are wide and honest, a more common sight than Jigen would’ve expected. “You have no idea.”
Jigen nods curtly, once, not sure he’d be able to speak even if he had the words. Instead he takes Lupin by the hand and tugs him toward his room. It’s a little surreal. Lupin’s warm hand in his own is the only thing that feels solid and tangible.
Lupin’s on him again in the moment it takes for Jigen to pause at the light switch. His hands stray around his waist to feel up his stomach, over his chest. He presses open mouthed kisses above Jigen's collar. Jigen closes his eyes to it, letting the feeling ground him, and takes in deep breaths that expand his chest into Lupin’s palm. “You never did bother with patience, did you?”
“Don’t tell me you intend to be a tease, dear,” Lupin murmurs, voice playful in his ear, and Jigen lets himself smile.
“You’d deserve it,” he says, seeking out Lupin’s mouth in a kiss. He cups the back of Lupin’s head to deepen it. It’s easy at this angle.
Jigen’s belt clinks, loud in the quiet room, as Lupin fumbles blindly to rid him of it. Jigen can’t recall the last time he’d seen Lupin clumsy.
Jigen extracts himself, stepping out of Lupin’s reach. “Get on the bed,” he says, pulling at his tie. Lupin scrabbles around him, divesting himself of his own clothing and half tripping over the trousers hanging around his ankles in his haste. Jigen hides his smile by pulling his half unbuttoned shirt over his head.
The room feels warm on his exposed skin, the air stuffy and close. He thinks of opening a window but that thought leaves him quickly when he sees Lupin waiting for him on the bed. He’s sitting on the edge of it, feet to the floor, knees spread wide to show himself off, ever the exhibitionist. He’s flushed and pink and Jigen finds his own heat rising. Sweat prickles at the back of his neck and knees.
Lupin’s already touching himself, his lazy strokes quickening as he watches Jigen undress. Jigen has seen Lupin naked more times than he can count but never with his attention focused solely on him. It makes his head spin a little.
“You even gonna need me for this next part?” Jigen says, amused, as he comes to stand between Lupin’s legs. Lupin eagerly widens them for him.
“Any participation is greatly encouraged,” Lupin says, free hand skimming up the back of Jigen’s thigh to the swell of his buttocks. Jigen huffs a laugh, charmed despite himself. He puts a knee to the bed and bats Lupin’s hand out the way to touch him instead, curling his fingers around the head of his cock and squeezing. It makes Lupin gasp, eyes fluttering shut.
“Yeah, like that,” he hisses, leaning backwards on his hands to give Jigen more room. Jigen feels like a teenager giving out rushed handjobs under thin blankets but his own cock twitches at the feel of Lupin’s pulsing in his hand.
He adjusts his grip on him and finds a rhythm that won’t cramp his arm. The drag of skin on skin is dry, making each tug just on the edge of painful. It gets Lupin arching up to it trying to follow the stilted movements, his breath short and sharp. Jigen takes pity on him, stopping to reach for the lotion he keeps on his side table, squeezing some out.
“Gonna make my dick smell like roses,” Lupin says with a lazy grin, eyes following his movements. Jigen tosses the bottle and captures Lupin’s chin in his clean hand, giving his head a little shake.
“It's unscented, asshole, just be grateful.” He’s not gentle when he takes him in his hand again. The sound of it is sloppy and wet as he fucks Lupin’s cock with his fist. He steadies himself with an arm around Lupin’s shoulders, giving him more leverage to work him faster. The strain in Lupin’s flat stomach to stay still is evident every time his knuckles brush against him.
Lupin’s mouth is hanging open, head tipped back and eyes closed. Jigen’s eyes dart over him, greedily drinking in the sight, his own elevated breathing sounding loud in his ears. “That’s it,” he mutters, “Come on. So fuckin’ hot.”
A litany of curses spill from Lupin’s lips and Jigen leans forward to kiss him because he can’t handle the way he’s breathing out his name. He bites at his bottom lip, rakes his nails through his cropped hair. He feels Lupin tense then shudder as he comes over his stomach and Jigen’s fingers.
Jigen pulls away and Lupin falls forward, panting against Jigen's shoulder as he recovers, his breath hot against his skin. Jigen eases him back with a hand in his hair and thumb on his jaw and tries his luck by offering his sticky fingers to him. He lets out a shaky laugh, his gut clenching with arousal, when Lupin dutifully licks them clean.
“You can still fuck me if you want,” Lupin says, looking up at him through hooded eyes.
“Yeah?” Jigen swallows, thumb brushing over Lupin’s wet bottom lip.
“Yeah, you’ll get me going again in no time.” Jigen snorts and cups the back of Lupin’s neck to pull him into a kiss that’s deep and open, not caring about the taste of Lupin he finds there.
Lupin tugs at him and they tumble onto the bed, rearranging their limbs to fit together on the mattress. It’s almost strange to recontextualise a body Jigen knows so well. He was never shy in touching Lupin but now it seems reserved compared to how he’s mapping him out now. The dip in his lower back, the bump of his ribs, the risen scar from a bullet Jigen had pulled out of him.
He gasps when Lupin takes him in hand, tugging at his flagging erection. “You got anything more substantial than drug store lotion we can use?” Lupin asks, grinning against his neck. Jigen pinches his thigh for his cheek, making him squirm and giggle.
“I got come on my sheets that says you enjoyed it well enough,” Jigen grumbles.
“Don’t pout,” Lupin tuts. He twists out of Jigen’s hold and bends at the waist to take Jigen’s cock in his mouth. Jigen swears, hips jerking up in shock. He hears Lupin choke a little and grits his teeth against the wave of arousal the sound brings. Lupin is now moaning around him, his hands cupping his sack and the base of his cock. Jigen’s own hands scrabble over Lupin’s back to grip his neck and shoulder, trying to find his bearings. The position is awkward but it’s enough that Lupin fills his cheek with his cock, lavishing him with his tongue, getting him slick and wet.
When Jigen is achingly hard, Lupin sits back up and wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand. “There,” he says, voice a little hoarse, “Feel better?”
“You’re a real shit, you know that?” Jigen gripes, pulling him in for a kiss. There’s too much tongue and their teeth click and noses crush together but Lupin is groaning into it and Jigen’s too far gone to care. He bites at Lupin’s lips then sits up to root through the bedside cabinet.
“Wow, brand name and everything,” Lupin snickers when Jigen produces the lube.
“Oh, shut up,” Jigen snaps, half annoyed, half relieved they can still be like this with each other. He pops the cap on the bottle then pauses, pulse quickening when he realises what comes next. “You wanna do this or…” He leaves the question unfinished.
“Oh definitely you,” Lupin says, shifting around to come onto his hands and knees. “Don’t get all shy on me now,” he throws over a shoulder.
“I’m not,” Jigen insists. He gets his hands on Lupin, smoothing over his back and belly and down to squeeze his cock that’s hard again. Lupin’s skin is scarred and marked but it still seems smooth compared to Jigen’s coarse, rough hands. Jigen thinks he’d never grow tired of touching him.
He feels almost feverish with anticipation, his fingers clumsy while he fumbles with the bottle, but they’re sure and steady when he pushes one into Lupin. Lupin stiffens for a moment before rocking slowly back into it. “Okay?” Jigen asks.
“Yeah,” Lupin grunts. “Been a while.” Jigen wants to pry into that but doesn’t. Instead he spreads Lupin to watch how his finger sinks into him. He works him gently until he feels Lupin completely relax into it, then adds a second. Lupin is down on his folded arms, head buried in them, as his hips rock back onto Jigen’s fingers. When Lupin lets out a guttural groan, Jigen reaches around for his erection again and finds it flat and leaking against his stomach.
“You really like this, huh?” Jigen grunts out, arousal hot in his belly.
“Yeah,” Lupin breathes, “Yeah I do.” There’s no reason for that to be a shock but still the confirmation makes Jigen’s breath hitch. He gropes for the lube bottle with his free hand and pours too much over where he’s twisting into Lupin and adds a third finger. Lupin shudders then spreads his legs wider. Jigen swears under his breath and begins jerking his fingers faster, his bicep flexing with the strain.
“Stop,” Lupin gasps, twisting around to push at Jigen’s hand. “‘M gonna shoot again, stop.” The sheets rustle as Lupin gropes under himself to grip at the base of his own cock. Jigen eases his fingers out, feeling as on edge as Lupin looks, and runs his dry hand over Lupin’s back soothingly.
“Okay?” he asks after a moment.
“Y-yeah,” Lupin gasps, “Fuck.”
“C'mere,” Jigen mutters and helps Lupin up to his knees, drawing him back flush to his chest. He can feel the ripple of Lupin’s muscles as he moves to fit against him. He turns Lupin’s head with a touch to his jaw and kisses him. Lupin sighs into it but his hands are jittery where they clutch at Jigen’s arm that's wrapped around his waist.
“Jigen,” he says, almost pained. All Jigen can manage is a, “Yeah,” in reply.
He slots a knee between Lupin’s to spread him wide and Lupin takes the hint and leans forward slightly. There’s a tense, quiet moment where Jigen reaches between them that’s broken when Jigen pushes in and Lupin chokes out a startled laugh.
“That’s it,” he hisses, his toes curling where his legs overlap with Jigen’s behind them, “So fucking good.”
“Tell me… tell me when it’s OK,” Jigen grits out. His thighs and stomach tremble with the strain of staying put and he blinks sweat from his eyes.
Lupin reaches behind him to tug at Jigen’s hip. “Move. Like this.” Jigen lets him dictate the rhythm, following his lead as they rock together, slow and aching, moving as one. Jigen feels impossibly turned on, like he’s burning from the inside out. He mouths at Lupin’s neck, tasting his sweat and the racing pulse he feels there. He sinks in his teeth with a grunt when Lupin squeezes around him and he hears Lupin’s breath hitch.
Lupin tugs at him harder, nails digging into his skin and he takes that as a cue. He pulls his hips back, nearly pulling out, before thrusting forwards. Lupin almost stumbles forwards at the force of it but Jigen keeps him in place.
Their skin slaps together as he starts a new pace. It's hard, bordering on brutal, but there’s been too much build up and neither of them has much control left. Jigen gets a hand around Lupin’s neck, pulling him down onto him when he thrusts up. It doesn’t give Lupin much room to move with him but he’s tight as a wire, trembling in Jigen’s grip as he tries to hang on.
Jigen shifts him up and back so he’s sitting further onto Jigen’s thighs and it makes Lupin shudder, body convulsing, his back arching up. The reaction startles a laugh out of Jigen and he kisses at Lupin’s cheek and at the corner of his open and panting mouth, affection for him overwhelming.
“Right there,” Lupin grits out, hand fumbling behind him to clutch at Jigen’s hair. “Keep doing it like that. Fuck, Jigen.”
Lupin’s shoulder blades flex against his chest, his grip on Jigen’s thigh and hair biting, and Jigen looks down his body to see Lupin’s cock spill over his stomach, unaided and twitching. It’s the hottest thing Jigen’s ever seen. It winds him a little. His grip on Lupin doubles, his thrusts becoming erratic as he feels his own orgasm swelling.
He grits his teeth into the meat of Lupin’s shoulder, blood rushing loud in his ears, as he comes buried deep inside Lupin, their bodies pressed flush together.
They’re both dazed in the wake of it. Lupin is boneless against him and Jigen eases him off him and down onto the bed as best he can with his own trembling limbs. Lupin pulls him down with him so he drapes over him like a blanket.
Neither of them speak for a while as they catch their breath.
“You’d better have turned that stove off,” Jigen mutters into Lupin’s neck. They both erupt into giggles.
“You’re a hard man to read, Daisuke Jigen,” Lupin says some time later, tucked against Jigen’s chest. They’ve both got a cigarette lit and are lying lazy and content, entangled together on the clean bottom sheet.
“What makes you say that?” Jigen asks, idly tracing patterns with his fingers into Lupin’s back.
“For one thing, I didn’t know whether you were going to kiss me or beat the shit out of me tonight.” Jigen snorts.
“Yeah well, neither did I.” Lupin is quiet for a moment.
“I never really know what you want from me.” He stares at the wall on the other side of the room, face deliberately impassive but eyes bright. Jigen watches him, hardly daring to breathe. “I’m usually good at knowing what people want. Really good. But with you....” He trails off. “Thought you might just be sticking around for the work.”
Jigen takes in a deep draw from his cigarette, lets the smoke fill his lungs, then lets it out slowly. He feels something else in his chest that has been tight and painful release along with the smoke. He wets his lips then says, “I was sticking around for you, idiot.”
Lupin smiles, ducks his head then leans up to kiss him.
*
Jigen never really understood why Lupin chose such small cars. Their long legs always got crammed up against the dashboard and their elbows got in each other’s ribs. Not that he cared all that much, especially now it meant he could lean against Lupin’s shoulder on long drives instead of the hard window.
The Belgian sun is setting on them one last time as they head for the french border. Lupin has ideas of tackling the Château de Malmaison to get his hands on the Napoleon Crossing the Alps, but Jigen suspects he just wanted to go home for a little while.
Jigen opens his window and flicks the cigarette he’s been chewing on out into the evening air. Lupin is humming something pleasant. Jigen closes his eyes, trying to place the song, letting the breeze play over his face.
“I’ve been thinking,” Lupin says, interrupting himself. Jigen rolls his head on his shoulder to look at him. When Lupin doesn’t continue he says, “About what?”
Eyes still on the road, Lupin takes a hand off the wheel to lace his fingers with Jigen’s and brings them to his mouth to kiss Jigen’s knuckles. Jigen’s face heats and his chest aches.
“I was thinking next time I retire maybe you could come with me.”
Jigen bites back his grin. With his free hand he reaches into the glove compartment for a pack of cigarettes and draws two out with his teeth. An old fashioned gold lighter is produced from his breast pocket and he lights them, taking a drag. Their eyes meet when he places one between Lupin’s lips.
“I might just take you up on that.”