Chapter Text
Jigen stood on the balcony, enjoying a post supper smoke with the scent of the Mediterranean on the breeze. He couldn’t see the water from the apartment but he could hear it, the waves lapping against the beach and the cries of birds. His stomach was full with chicken-- something French that he couldn’t pronounce-- that Lupin had deigned to cook.
The meal was excellent, enough so that even Fujiko of the sophisticated palate had leaned forward, asking Lupin for the recipe. He had murmured to her in French and, as far as Jigen could tell from her pout, the thief had refused her.
Lupin didn’t refuse her much; that was one of the few sticking points that Jigen had about their relationship. Otherwise, as he thought back on eight years of ill-gotten gains, chicanery and near death, Jigen was content. Before Lupin he had just been a hired gun, muscle used to eliminate an opponent or intimidate the competition; now he was a partner and trusted confidant. It had taken time, but as Jigen heard the slap of Fujiko’s hands swatting Lupin away he could finally admit that his regard for his boss was not exactly professional.
To be fair, their conduct with each other never was nor never had been professional. Tumbling into bed with Lupin after trying to kill him then doing it again after their first heist together did not set a pattern for businesslike behavior. Let alone all the other countless times Lupin would coax Jigen into a compromising position or he would be unable to contain himself any longer and pin the thief (who was usually laughing at him by this time) to the nearest mattress.
Then there was Fujiko. Every time the woman appeared Lupin would chase after her like she was the Holy Grail. Sometimes she would give him the satisfaction of her company but she mostly dodged his advances and made off with whatever loot Lupin had worked so hard to gain. When she disappeared Lupin would again turn to his loyal gunman with a shrug of the shoulders. Despite the frequency of the pattern, Jigen didn’t feel like he was a rebound when Lupin came back around.
There was too much affection in Lupin’s laugh, too much eagerness in his kisses and his touch for Jigen to feel like he was just being used. The older man couldn’t quite pin down what Lupin felt for him or for Fujiko. It disturbed him more than he cared to admit.
Jigen resented Fujiko for stealing Lupin’s time and money but he couldn’t bring himself to hate her. He disliked her intensely, but she had pulled their fat out of the fire enough times to earn some respect, even if she betrayed them just as often.
He exhaled, the smoke curling in the breeze, drifting up and out into the clear night. He was tired of the sound of the ocean and his own thoughts. Jigen stubbed out the cigarette, making his way back into the apartment.
Lupin and Fujiko were on the couch, his arm around her shoulders, her finger tracing patterns on his chest. “Come on,” she said, her voice husky, “not even a hint?”
“Nope,” Lupin replied, “I’m not saying a thing until Goemon arrives tomorrow.”
Fujiko turned up the charm, pressing a full breast firmly against him. “Anything worth saying is worth repeating, right?”
The thief shook his head, holding her chin with his finger and thumb. “But that doesn’t mean the audience will listen, Fujicakes.” Theatrics were in Lupin’s blood; three generations of thieves would not be denied a moment to perform, even a little one. There was also the distinct possibility that he didn’t want his beautiful rival to jump the gun.
The answer dissatisfied Fujiko, who pushed herself off of her sometimes paramour. “If that’s the way you’re going to be then I’m going out,” she said. She rose to her feet, placing one leg up on the couch to afford Lupin a full view as she adjusted her stockings.
Lupin reached out his grabby hands to help her. “We’ll make a night of it.”
The voluptuous redhead (although Jigen was loathe to admit it, it was the color he thought best suited her) aborted the grope with a huff. “I have business to attend to,” she said.
With the way her dress clung to her figure, Jigen had a good idea what sort of business she meant. He couldn’t resist taking a jab at her: “Is that what you’re calling catting around these days?”
Fujiko shot him an ugly look but the rebuke from Lupin hurt far worse. “Don’t,” the thief warned with a pointed finger at his partner. He turned his attention back to the woman, his face pleading. “Come on Fujiko, it’s just one more day.”
“I do have some things to settle here before the job,” she insisted. Fujiko threw her purse over her shoulder. “I’ll be back in the morning.” She blew Lupin a kiss then made her exit, hips swaying.
The thief watched her leave, his grin perverse. “You know, I can’t always say that I’m sorry to see her go.”
Jigen decided to ignore that. “You going to chase after her?”
Lupin sat back on the couch as if thinking about it for a moment. He crossed his legs, foot bouncing with nervous energy. The decision only took a few seconds. “I’ve got some things to take care of,” Lupin said, “don’t wait up.”
The door slammed and with that he was gone. The gunman felt his stomach churn with jealousy; hating that this was happening again. Yes, Lupin always came back but it still stung.
Jigen then noticed that the table and kitchen were still a mess. Like hell he was going to clean up after everyone like a maid. He grabbed the still open bottle of wine from dinner and plopped down in the armchair before the TV. He found an American action movie with Greek subtitles then settled in for the night.
He didn’t remember falling asleep but when he opened his eyes the television was off. The bottle of wine was empty; apparently he had finished it off. There was noise in the kitchen behind him, not sinister but someone was definitely moving around. Jigen eyed the clock; it was after ten. He got to his feet curious about what was going on at this hour
Lupin stood at the sink, his jacket off, black sleeves rolled up to his forearms, tie loose and neck unbuttoned. He was scrubbing the dishes from dinner, a pensive look on his face like he was thinking things through.
The gunman leaned against the doorway, watching as Lupin did something perfectly normal. This was a man who had broken into vaults all over the world; this was a man with a brain that could concoct a complicated plan, adjusting for change in seconds; this was a man who could afford the same care with a set of plates as he did with precious jewels. Jigen realized that he could watch Lupin do anything fantastic or mundane and still be a little awed by it. He was in deep.
“Hey,” Jigen said, willing himself to break the spell.
Lupin looked up at the greeting, gracing Jigen with a small smile. “I thought you were going to spend all night in the chair.”
Jigen tried to ignore the lump in his throat. “Couldn’t sleep with you making all that noise,” he bluffed.
Lupin scoffed, setting a pot in the drainer. “Right, I’m as quiet as a mouse.”
Jigen didn’t want to ask, but he did: “So, did you find Fujiko?”
The thief seemed surprised at the inquiry. “Fujicakes? Nah, I was finishing up our new passports and disguises for the big reveal tomorrow,” Lupin said.
“Passports?” Jigen asked, he was ashamed at how relieved he was. “Where are we going?”
Lupin waved a soapy finger at Jigen in a “don’t be a naughty boy” gesture. “I didn’t tell Fujiko early, what makes you think I’ll tell you?”
Knowing that Lupin hadn’t chased after the woman made Jigen feel bold. He pushed himself forward, stepping into the thief’s space, forcing Lupin’s back against the sink. “Because you like me better?”
Lupin laughed. He cupped the back of Jigen’s neck with his wet, warm hands. “Nice try,” Lupin kissed the tip of Jigen’s nose, “but I’m not revealing my secrets.”
Sounding a hell of a lot more smooth than he felt Jigen said, “Who says I want your secrets?”
This time when Lupin kissed him Jigen found it hard to breathe. It was easy to forget sometimes with Lupin’s goofy demeanor that he could be charming as hell when he wanted to. Within seconds he could go from outrageous flirt to romantic hero. Lupin usually used this to disarm or, in some cases, even comfort a damsel in distress. The thief had a weakness for women, it didn’t matter if he wanted to fuck them or help them he would do whatever was in his power for them.
Jigen had seen this time and time again but he would be a liar if he said that he was immune to Lupin’s charisma. Or to the way that Lupin slid his hand down the front of Jigen’s pants; Christ the man was fast. “What do you want, Jigen-chan?” Lupin asked, his voice breathy and teasing.
Jigen wasn’t sure if he wanted to punch him or fuck him for that damned nickname. He cupped Lupin’s ass and hauled him up against the edge of the sink. The thief grinned, wrapping his legs around Jigen’s waist. This was better, less talking more grinding.
Lupin’s mouth was hot, wet and demanding, the movement of his hips an order. Years of working and screwing together had given them an edge in silent communication and Jigen was receiving the message loud and clear. A few fumbling moments with the soap later and Jigen’s fingers were spreading Lupin open. The thief’s eyes were closed as he bit his lower lip.
Jigen could have watched this all night but a small sound from the other room startled him. He turned his head, his eyes peering through the dark. Did he just see a flash of red hair?
He jumped as Lupin’s teeth scraped the side of his neck. Holy hell, Lupin was going to be the death of him. “The party’s over here,” Lupin said, those shifty eyes half-lidded as he squeezed down on the fingers inside him. Jigen suddenly found himself unable to be concerned about what he may or may not have seen.