Chapter Text
The air in the Special Investigations Unit briefing room always carried a chill - over-airconditioned to counter the Bangkok heat, but it did nothing to cool the nerves crawling under Yuki’s skin. He leaned back in his seat, arms folded, jacket slung over the back of his chair.
The fluorescent lights cast a tired blue wash over the polished table, making everyone in the room look worse. Washed out, ghost-pale, like corpses that hadn’t realized they were dead yet.
Next to him, Leo sat in his chair like he had made peace with that. Long legs stretched out beneath the table, like he was waiting for a lunch order. He clicked his pen, once, twice, then flipped it through his fingers. Yuki could feel the restlessness radiating from him in sharp waves.
Nikolai dropped a file on the table with a dull thud.
Snake, who had been slouching in his seat across the table, sat up straighter. Sam bit back a grin.
“Three dead,” he said, sliding the folder towards them. “Six weeks. All gay men. All vacationers. All last seen alive at The Grand Palms Resort in Phuket. All first seen dead there, too.”
Leo gave a low whistle as he opened the folder. A trio of faces stared up at them from their passport photos. Below each image - autopsy shots. Bruised lips, empty eyes, necks marked by pressure.
“Cause of death?” Yuki asked.
“Strangulation. Got knife wounds to the torso too but it looks like the were not the cause of death. No signs of struggle beyond some minor defensive wounds - scratches, really. No forced entry to the rooms. We’re guessing they were drugged beforehand, but it’s hard to tell given they stayed in a party area. Whoever’s doing this - they’re careful.”
Leo flipped through the pages, leaning closer to Yuki so they could both look at it. “So… a psycho with a thing for choking tourists?”
Nikolai raised an eyebrow. “Don’t reduce this to a kink. The press doesn’t have it yet, but they will. Once body number four drops, it’ll explode. We’re not giving it that chance.”
He walked to the whiteboard, where a map of the resort was pinned beside guest logs and shift schedules. He pointed to an X marked Villa 14.
“All three victims stayed in that unit. Two alone, one with an unregistered ‘friend’ who vanished. Security footage was mysteriously corrupted. Convenient. We don't know if the killer is picking victims according to the villa they're in, but it's a possibility.”
Yuki leaned forward. “We have a suspect?”
“Not a name. But we know it’s someone inside. Staff. Maybe a guest on a loop. All victims were at resort parties and the pool bar the night before they died. Based on witness reports, all victims were seen flirting… go figure. Nothing out of the ordinary - it’s a gay-only, adults-only, party resort, people are there to have fun, enjoy themselves, let go, party. That’s the problem. No one’s paying attention.”
Snake reached for the folder when Leo slid it across the table. “So… you want us to go in and catch the fucker.”
“You want us to pose as guests. Bait,” Leo guessed.
“As a couple,” Nikolai said, expression flat.
Leo blinked.
Yuki didn't.
Snake snorted.
Sam elbowed him in the ribs.
Silence stretched. Leo cleared his throat once - quick, sharp - then broke into a laugh. “You’re serious?”
Nikolai didn't smile. “The killer’s targeting men who appear to be alone but easy. Players. One-nighters. If we send in two of you together? Keeps you less vulnerable. Gives us time. And you don’t look like cops.”
Snake mouthed "One-nighters" inaudibly, as if he were mocking his grandfather and earned himself another shove from Sam.
Leo glanced sideways. “I look like a cop.”
“You look like a problem,” Yuki said.
“Please tell me you want to send Leo and Yuki,” Snake piped up.
There was a long suffering sigh from Nikolai before he answered. “I am. Snake, Sam. You two are backup. Monitor the situation and be on standby. We need to have boots on the ground if shit goes sideways.”
Yuki had already started cataloguing the risks. Open location, multiple potential suspects, limited backup. And Leo - emotional, impulsive, unpredictable - close enough to touch. Sharing a bed. Pretending to be his-
“Can we at least get a king-size?” Leo said, flashing a grin in Yuki’s direction. “You know how cranky he gets without space.”
Yuki didn’t flinch. “Cranky is better than dead.”
Nikolai rubbed his temple like he had heard enough. “You'll be staying in Villa Eight. All villas have a king bed, ocean view. We have someone on the inside already embedded as a security guard. He'll keep your comms discreet. No weapons unless absolutely necessary, no badges. This is a high-profile resort. Cameras only in public spaces.”
Leo’s smile turned feline. “So we really have to sell it.”
“No need to overperform,” Yuki said without inflection.
Leo turned toward him fully now, one brow raised. “What - worried I’ll be too convincing?”
Yuki met his eyes. “Worried you’ll enjoy it.”
There was a beat too long in the silence after that. Nikolai cleared his throat and pushed two small boxes across the table. Slim black phone units - burner devices.
“You leave tomorrow. Take only what fits in carry-on. You’re just another couple escaping the city.”
“Romantic,” Leo said, standing. He stretched, arms high, shirt riding up just enough to flash skin. “You ever been to Phuket, Yuki?”
“No.”
“You’ll love it. Hot sun, hot men, strong drinks...”
Yuki stood up too. Straightened his sleeves. “Try not to flirt with the suspect while he’s strangling you.”
“Flirting’s how I stay alive.”
The locker room smelled like gun oil and deodorant. Familiar. Neutral. The kind of scent that didn’t stick to you.
Leo threw his duffel down on the bench and unzipped it in one motion, all casual chaos. He moved like he talked - fast, with impact.
Yuki packed slower. Thoughtfully.
“You think this is funny,” Yuki said.
Leo looked over. “What, us sharing a bed? Or me pretending to be into you?”
Yuki’s expression didn’t shift. “Both.”
“Come on, Yu. At least we get to have a little beach trip.” Leo grinned, cocking an eyebrow. “Maybe I’ve just been very patient. I could be into you. Wouldn’t that make things easier?”
Yuki turned away. “You’re not.”
“Don’t sound so sure.”
“I’ve seen your type. And your bedpost. You’d fuck a mirror if it told you you looked good.”
Leo laughed again, but this time it was softer. “You wound me, Yuki.”
“Not yet.”
For a moment, there was only the sound of zippers and gear being tucked away. Yuki double-checked the pocket with his false passport.
“You know this could go bad,” Yuki said after a moment. “We don’t know how he chooses. It’s not random.”
Leo met his eyes in the locker mirror. “Are you nervous?”
“I don’t trust the setup.”
“Of course not. You don’t trust anything.”
That, Yuki didn’t respond to. He just closed his bag and sat on the bench.
Leo watched him a moment longer, then closed his locker. His smirk dimmed just slightly. “We’ve done worse.”
Yuki nodded. “We’ve also had more backup and preparation.”
Leo picked up his bag, slinging it over one shoulder. “We’ll be fine. Worst case, we finally get to test out our couple dynamic.”
“I’m not holding your hand.”
Leo opened the door, grinning. “Then I’ll have to hold yours.”
Later that evening, Yuki packed like he was going to war.
Two shirts, both black. One pair of swim shorts he wouldn’t wear. Light pants, loose tank. He paused only once - hand hovering over a button-down Leo had given him last year as a joke. Pink flamingos on white cotton. It still smelled faintly like mint gum.
He left it on the hanger.
The light buzzed faintly overhead. Bangkok moved outside his window - taxis humming, night markets winding down. He sat at the edge of his bed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
He didn’t care that Leo flirted. Not when it was strangers. Not when it was bartenders, witnesses, even suspects. He had grown numb to it. But this - pretending to be lovers, sharing a bed, trading touches for credibility - this was different.
This was a line he had built his whole life around not crossing.
Yuki pulled the suitcase closed and zipped it shut.
Leo packed in ten minutes and spent the next forty staring at his phone.
He wasn’t the type to overthink - usually - but something about the way Yuki had looked at him in the locker room kept catching in his mind.
He told himself it was just the case. The murder photos. The pressure.
He told himself it wasn’t personal.
Still, he closed his closet on the pile of clothes he normally brought to impress - his nicest shirts, the thin linen pants, the expensive sunglasses. He grabbed only one of the shirts, threw it in the suitcase, not caring whether it would be wrinkled by the time they arrived. Then tossed in a few less nice shirts, a sleeveless hoodie, three condoms, and a small knife in a leather sheath. He stared at the condoms for a long time before throwing in a fourth. Just in case.
The ceiling fan rattled overhead. Leo rolled onto his back and stared up into the noise.
“Yu’s not even my type,” he said out loud.
The ceiling fan above kept turning. He didn’t repeat it.