Work Text:
There, on Shouta Aizawa’s desk, was a little package, caringly covered in gold and white wrapping paper, a red ribbon tying it together with another letter.
He already knew what was inside - a large diamond ring, encrusted in more carats of gold than he could afford in his entire life. A ring belonging to a famous actress-turned-duchess that made the mistake of visiting his precinct while a certain phantom thief was still at large. A phantom thief that he’d been trying to catch for six months now. A phantom thief that he was sure had a crush on him.
The intern at their detective agency, a short blonde girl named Emilia Miura, hopped up to his desk, dark emerald eyes widening at the sight of the box. “Is that your latest gift from Ms. Joke?” She asked, then signed in. He sighed and opened it, knowing that if it had made its way to his desk, his coworkers had already checked for prints and other DNA samples. Of course, they would find nothing. They never found anything.
His boss, Naomasa Tsukauchi, came by with the letter that came with the package, now in a laminated case after they finished scanning it. “It’s for you, Aizawa.” He gave him a tight-lipped grin.
Aizawa opened the box it came in, a lovely furnished mahogany with black and gold embossments. Inside, of course, was the ring. Cleaned, polished, and looking like it had never been sneakily removed from the duchess’ hotel room while she was at an opera. Aizawa made sure not to touch the ring itself, and instead handed the gift to Tsukauchi for another trip of testing.
Ms. Joke certainly kept him on his heels.
He noticed Miura studying him, a small smile on her peach lips. “I know it’s overkill, but it’s kinda romantic.” She gave a soft sigh and leaned against his desk, making sure her low-cut shirt didn’t obscure too much of her ample chest. However, her emerald eyes never left his, a playful kind of mischief floating in them. He ignored her, as he did every day. Aizawa wasn’t in charge of human resources - he hadn’t given her the internship, yet Miura seemed to act as though he was the one who’d be getting her promoted to an actual detective. To say the least, he didn’t approve. “If you did that for me, I wouldn’t be going home alone, if you catch my drift.” She gave him a mischievous wink.
“If you’re trying to sleep with me so you’ll get a promotion, you’re wasting your time.” His tone was deadpan and dry. She didn’t seem to mind.
“What if I just want to sleep with you? For me?” Aizawa raised a weary eyebrow at the intern.
“Then you’re wasting your time.” He repeated. Miura’s nose wrinkled for a moment, then she smiled. For being a cheeky little college brat, she did have a brilliant smile. He just wished that she’d use it on somebody else - nearly all of his coworkers were already head over heels for her.
“Guess I like wasting time, then.”
“How about you waste your time productively, then, and file the suspect list.” Her eyes brightened and she accepted the pile of paper he handed her eagerly. He didn’t appreciate her flirting or her bad jokes -of which she gave many- but her work ethic always surprised him. Every day, she’d dive into rows of black letters that looked like little ants to Aizawa, her fingers dancing across the keyboard with light clicks from her short, manicured nails. If she kept that energy throughout the rest of her internship, he’d have to get her hired full-time, despite his disdain for her personality.
“There are a lot of men here.” She murmured out loud to herself. Aizawa glanced at her thoughtful face.
“Of course. We haven’t actually seen ‘Ms. Joke’ yet, so to immediately discard suspects based on a gendered name would be foolish.”
“I see. That makes sense. Good thinking, Mr. Aizawa! Besides, pronouns don’t always fit the expected physiology of their bearers.” She mulled it over and he appraised her words. The intern was definitely more competent than most of the people in his office. Of course, he wouldn’t tell her that or she might take it as interest.
She went back to typing quickly and he looked back to the letters on his desk, as well as the new letter in his hand. They were all typed in the default font - albeit italicized - and all printed on basic printer paper and black ink that came from any office printer. There were no fingerprints, nor telling evidence left behind.
Just like their crime scenes.
Everything was immaculate - free of any evidence that could point to a specific perpetrator.
Even worse was the lack of motive.
Expensive artwork, jewels, clothes - it would be stolen, only to arrive back to his office in plain, store-bought cardboard boxes, gift wrapped (usually with basic holiday wrapping paper), and each with a letter accompanying them. He glanced at the latest arrival.
“My Dearest Eraser,
How did you like the wrapping paper on this one? It’s a bit bland, but you tend to like the more elegant wrapping papers, right? I wrapped this little box like I hope to wrap you one day~ though I suppose you’re already wrapped around my little finger, right? I’m giving you the ring back - it’s a bit gaudy for my tastes (my apologies to the duchess, she did seem pretty stressed in the interviews - that wasn’t my intention), but if you want to propose to me with it, I won’t say no! Of course, you’ll have to catch me first. I’m looking forward to it, Eraser! Or maybe that’s just a joke?
XOXO Keep Laughing,
Ms. Joke”
She even used the nickname some victims gave him after he busted a drug ring in his first year as a detective. He'd helped some of the addicts get into rehab afterwards, as well as getting some of the innocent victims’ files erased so they could successfully reintegrate into society. It wasn’t an act of kindness or empathy - Aizawa did it because it was logical. They hadn’t performed any crimes, so they would only weigh down the prison system. However, some people saw it as softness and the nickname stuck. He didn’t think about it much, but it confused him to think that Ms. Joke had found out about it somehow, despite him having access to all of the previous victims and none of them possibly being related to the phantom thief. Apparently his coworkers would joke about it at office parties, though he never attended. Perhaps somebody overheard them once?
He put his chin in his hand and re-read the letter a few times. He needed some new input.
“Miura?” The intern’s eyes immediately snapped to his face.
“Yes, Mr. Aizawa?” He gestured at the seat across from his desk and with an excited smile, she plopped down into it. He handed her the latest letter and her eyes widened as she touched the laminated paper. “Am I really allowed to see this?” Her voice was small, eyes nervously locked on his.
“I want your opinion.” His voice was dry, and a vibrant blush spread across her face. He already regretted it, but it was too late to take it back. Her emerald eyes scanned the letter multiple times, then slowly wandered over every letter, her eyebrows narrowed. He had a feeling she would immediately lock onto the romantic aspects of the letter, but her next words surprised him.
“She seems very lonely.”
“What?”
“Oh- the word choice reflects female, or at least fem-presenting language like ‘suppose,’ ‘a bit,’ and ‘seemed pretty,’ and the way she words her questions, as well as talking about ‘hopes’ and feelings. It’s not to say that men don’t talk about those things, but they tend to use different language to express them. They don’t dance around words as much, or leave as much room for differing opinions. It’s a common defense mechanism found in many women’s speech patterns.”
She looked at him for confirmation to continue. He mused over her words, recognizing her points as something he remembered their Criminal Psychologist saying at one point. They must teach it at university now. He was impressed Miura paid attention in school. She certainly didn’t appear the type.
“And you think she’s lonely.” Aizawa pressed and she blushed lightly.
“How long has she been sending you these ‘gifts?’” Miura asked and it took him less than a minute to respond.
“Six months. Several months after your internship started.” She nodded.
“If Ms. Joke has been trying to contact you for that long, I think she must not have much of a social life - especially if she’s confessing to you.” He snorted. She certainly had a point.
“Any other ideas?”
“I think she’s an adrenaline junkie, especially if she’s trying to get your attention through stealing priceless objects. However, she doesn’t seem to be strapped for cash, since she doesn’t keep any of the things she steals. This is definitely a game to her.”
All those statements were things that he’d figured for a few months now, but it was nice to hear it from another person. However, the concept of a lonely phantom thief hadn’t crossed his mind before she brought it up. Interesting.
Aizawa thought over the letters she’d sent him over the past few months. They came around every two weeks. If he was being honest with himself (which he rarely was), he’d started looking forward to them. He’d never admit it to his coworkers, who were all on different cases - a few locked on a serial killer, and the rest trying to bust yet another drug ring. Somehow, Aizawa, the only one without an assigned partner, was put on the case of the phantom thief that claimed to be head-over-heels for him, yet refused to reveal herself. She was always a step ahead of him, and it drove him insane.
But what was even more insane?
Aizawa thought he might’ve fallen for her.
She was obviously brilliant. Though he didn’t think it was possible, Ms. Joke seemed to be working alone. There was no way anyone would sign up to help a thief flirt with a detective - especially when she never kept anything for herself. There wouldn’t be a point to it. So this woman - he supposed she was a woman, at least - was singlehandedly hacking into high security cameras, sneaking into places that were known to be impossible to sneak into, and stealing priceless objects, just to gift wrap them and send them all to Aizawa, all without hurting a single person. She was incredible- he had no clue how she’d managed to do any of that. Or why.
What was her end goal? Aizawa? Absolutely ridiculous.
Was she crazy? Probably.
Was he? Definitely.
Miura was examining his face, and he realized that he’d been blushing.
“Do you want to meet Ms. Joke?” She asked, and he glanced back to the letter on the desk.
“Of course - I have to catch her.”
Miura nodded, tugging lightly on her long blonde hair that always seemed a bit too perfect.
“You don’t know anything about her - what she looks like, what she does for work, what she wants… So that’s the kind of girl you’re into, Mr. Aizawa? Mystery girls who steal stuff and tell bad jokes?” Miura teased and he glared at her, causing her to burst into laughter.
“That’s not professional, Miura.” He reprimanded her sternly and she raised her hands in defeat, then pushed them towards him, wrists up.
“You caught me, Mr. A.” He raised an eyebrow and she grinned before the smile faltered for a moment. “Y’know, I’m going to miss you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“My internship is over in a month- then I’ll be going back home.” His eyebrows narrowed slightly.
“I wasn’t aware. You should consider applying here officially. I could use a partner with a few brain cells.” Her eyes widened, lips parting into a brilliant smile.
“Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for me!” She laughed, but his dry stare made her pause, and she averted her eyes with a blush. “I’d… really like that. But… I’m going to have to turn you down, Mr. Aizawa.” He frowned, not knowing how to take her words, then sighed.
“I suppose I’ll just have to work you to the bone so we can catch Joke before you leave.”
“Please have mercy on me! I’m not even getting paid!” She laughed, but it quieted down to a soft smile and she looked at her hands before steeling herself with a soft “Yosh!” and miniature fist pump, turning back to her keyboard and pile of suspects.
When she wasn’t looking, the hint of a smile touched the corners of Aizawa’s mouth. She was a mess, but he’d miss her, too.
Emi Fukukado pulled off the blonde wig and collapsed in the yellow chair facing her vanity. She tugged her seafoam hair from its restraints and let out a soft sigh. Free at last. She draped herself over the vanity’s desk, fingers gliding over a plastic tube of peach lipstick.
She was in love with him.
As Emilia Miura, Aizawa hadn’t spared her a second thought until today, but she noticed the look he wore when thinking about Ms. Joke. She felt her heart squeeze tightly in her chest.
The tube fell over with a light click.
She was going to graduate in a week. Tomorrow, she’d print her last letter to Eraser as she printed her final essay for one of her criminal psychology classes. The internship would end in a month. She’d go home the next day. After that? Emi had no clue what life had in store for her.
Her room felt bare, having given everything she wouldn’t need for the next month to her parents when they last visited. When they asked about all the wrapping paper, Emi told them she’d gotten into paper crafting after hanging out with some friends. That was a lie. She never hung out with people, she didn’t have the time. She was too busy stealing priceless artifacts and gifting them back to a detective she’d fallen for.
He blushed when she asked him if he was in love with Ms. Joke. Her heart immediately responded with manic beats. That was the first time she’d seen him show any emotions other than exhaustion, sarcasm, and frustration(usually at Ms. Joke). She wanted to peel away all of his layers and touch his heart. She wondered how close she was.
Mindlessly, her hand drifted to the top drawer of the vanity, pulling out her passport. It was forged, of course, with a new name and identity for her to add to the list. She wondered where she’d go, knowing that she couldn’t stay behind in a city she’d been stealing from. She hadn’t been lying when she said she wanted to stay there at the agency. She’d miss them, and most of all, she’d miss Aizawa.
She wished he’d chase her to the ends of the earth.
Emi knew it was a trap.
She knew it was a trap, but she didn’t mind. It’d just make things more interesting for her.
She tapped quickly on her phone, her gloves muffling her nails. Usually, she’d keep her hair neatly tucked away, but with this being a special day, she let it hang freely from her orange bandanna. She adjusted her gas mask, smiling faces adorning it. Then, she pressed the start button on her phone. Ms. Joke was in, and she had 30 minutes to retrieve a small diamond globe that was being shown off at the art museum. In the past six months, they’d changed their security five times for her. Cracking it was half the fun. The other half was the retrieval.
Ms. Joke slid through the hatchway in the roof. Somehow, they never caught on that this was her entrance. A pity- she would’ve enjoyed needing to switch it up every now and then.
She brushed herself off and jogged lightly down the hall, her dark turtleneck suit blending in with the shadows, but her tool belt of smiles and all the colour adorning her head sticking out like a sore thumb. She didn’t mind - she had the cameras turned off, but since it was a trap, she was already ready to be seen by anybody she ran into.
It would have to be her last heist.
Ms. Joke expected more security to slide past, but it was strangely silent. Of course, since it was a trap, she’d have a harder time at the end, where the globe was waiting for her. She pulled her grappling hook from the smiling tool belt and hooked it onto the railing of the top floor, noting the globe down below her.
Glass case- there’d be a lock around the back if she wanted to make a clean getaway without any broken glass. She was good at that - no injuries, nothing broken, just a clean steal and return. If she got caught, she didn’t want her prison sentence to be too long. She wondered if she could plead insanity. “I’m just crazy in love!” She’d tell the jury. Ms. Joke fought back a laugh. Now was not the time.
She pulled out her phone, turning on the UV filter and scanning the room. No lasers today, it seemed. A pity, that was her favourite part. But for a trap, they’d probably complicate things. She prepared her locksmith kit and pulled out her skeleton key - fit for any lock. Best to have it prepared before she swung into the trap.
She took a deep breath, then leapt from the railings, her grappling hook safely secured. It was like bungee jumping: a free fall into freedom. Her pulse quickened. The wires held as she slid the lock on the hook’s gun into place, tugging her to a stop before she crashed into the floor. She’d almost stopped it too late. Her heart raced. This was what living was supposed to be like.
No response so far. Her boots, the soles burned to make prints more difficult to track, tapped quietly on the floor. Silently, she unhinged the lock on the grappling hook, stretching it just a little further like a retractable dog leash. Skeleton key at the ready, she slid it into the lock, letting it adjust to the curves of the lock for a moment before unlatching the glass case. As she touched the diamond globe, her gloved fingers grazing a sapphire Australia and ruby Africa, there was a step behind her.
“Ms. Joke? You’re under arrest.” She didn’t turn around to see what expression Aizawa was making. Her heart fluttered, and she shoved the globe into her tool belt and pressed the retract button on her grappling hook, holding on tightly. The tug was immediate, and she felt her body ripping through the air, her arms burning from the strain. However, her gaze pulled to the end of the hook and she faltered. There were two men already waiting for her at the top, guns trained on her. Her hand slipped when she avoided a small bullet. Weren’t they supposed to use stun guns? She tried to grasp it again with an awkward swing, but that only made the other hand slip.
This was what life was supposed to feel like.
A small scream escaped her lips as she fell.
Her back didn’t hit the marble floor. Instead, she pummeled into somebody’s arms before they crashed together. Her heart flipped almost as badly as her stomach.
“Eraser?” The voice fell from her lips and time seemed to stop for a moment when she gazed up into his shocked black eyes.
“Joke, I-”
She didn’t have time to get caught up in this, no matter how badly she wanted to stay in his arms. If she wasn’t wearing her mask, she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from flinging her arms around his neck and kissing him until he couldn’t feel his lips anymore.
“I love you.” She whispered, then leapt from his arms before he had the chance to respond. That was her best bet. She raced out of the room, skirting past another man with a gun.
Emilia Miura overheard that there’d be about five policemen on duty that night. That seemed like a paltry amount for a phantom thief, but given her track record of returning things and not leaving a mess behind, she knew they didn’t take her very seriously. Besides, serial killers and drug busts were much more important than a single thief. They couldn’t spare the men for her.
She was thankful for that.
“Stop!” Aizawa was on his feet, chasing after her, long black waves wild in his face. He was definitely flustered. That was a sight she’d see in her dreams for years to come, if the butterflies in her stomach were any indication. But she couldn’t savor it now, she had to run .
Ms. Joke booked it, sliding around corners with a startling speed. She’d always been fast, but the track team couldn’t keep her interest. There was no adrenaline when her life wasn’t on the line.
She wondered if his heart was beating as fast as hers was.
She dodged a few bullets, and slid to the main doors. Locked. Of course. She noticed the police car out front with two men, sending the news back to headquarters. She didn’t waste time with her skeleton key, instead turning and bolting straight past Aizawa and the man, who took a second to register what she’d done. Ms. Joke took a few more sharp turns before sliding into an elevator and pressing it closed before they could get to her. Top floor, it was. There were five floors in between them, and they’d have to take the stairs, not certain which floor she’d exit on, but she knew there was an outdoor exit on the fourth floor that they’d likely assume she was going for.
That left two men on the balcony where she’d dropped, two men outside, and Aizawa and a man trying to chase her down. Small numbers. She liked her chances.
The moment the elevator opened, she bolted, aiming directly for the small room with the hatch.
Nobody was around. They must’ve gone to the fourth floor. She hauled herself through the hatch, locking it behind her. She was on the roof, side-stepping to avoid slipping on the shingled slope. Her hand instinctively moved to her belt and she swore under her breath. She was missing her grappling hook. That would make getting down incredibly annoying. But by the same token, that was exciting in its own right.
Ms. Joke briefly thought back to the hook, hoping that she hadn’t made the mistake of leaving fingerprints on it. She was usually good about only handling it with gloves, and she was meticulous when it came to cleaning everything, but the chance of her being sloppy in one regard bothered her.
The globe felt heavy in her pocket. She paused her descent when she heard voices beneath her.
“Is there another exit she could’ve taken? Any places she could be hiding?” Aizawa’s voice was rushed and breathless.
“There are the two exits on the first floor. It’s possible she used the elevator as a distraction.”
“Understood. Iida, Toyomitsu, get back to the first floor. Tamakawa, check the balcony where the hook is, she may have gone back to retrieve it.” As soon as the orders were out, the men bolted, leaving Aizawa behind. He wiped away a bit of sweat from his brow, peering over the edge to see if he could find any traces of Ms. Joke. Under his breath in a soft whisper, she heard him say the words that stopped her heart. “Dammit, Joke. I love you, too.”
Aizawa looked and felt like he’d been run over by a train as he came into work that morning.
He failed to catch her.
And then to make matters worse, he couldn’t get any sleep because all he could think about was her. Her weight in his arms as they fell together, those wide emerald eyes that stared back at him, the way she ran - more like a gazelle than a human - and god was she fast. He couldn’t catch her on her feet and he couldn’t catch her intellectually. Would he have to just chase her until she dropped dead? He pressed his forehead into his hands, rubbing in small circles against his temple. Of all the people in the world…
Miura yawned as she entered the office, looking gorgeous as usual, but like she felt about the same way he did. She was likely out partying with her friends, celebrating her graduation. No amount of makeup could hide the exhaustion in her emerald eyes.
She signed in, then took a seat near him, already beginning to file the suspects list. She glanced at him and gave him a weak smile. Definitely hungover.
“You look awful, how did the heist go?” She yawned again.
“About as badly as I look, apparently.” He returned, gingerly sipping at his coffee. Miura gave him a small pout.
“Hey, stop that, you look great. Did you at least get to see her?” He glanced away, nodding, his cheeks looking a little bit rosier than he would’ve liked.
“Oh man, Mr. A, you’re blushing up a storm! What was she like? I’ll sort through the suspect list.”
“Beautiful.” He caught himself too late and looked at the intern in horror. Her expression wasn’t much better, an intense red colouring her cheeks, before she broke into a bright laugh. He hurriedly begged her to lower her volume.
“So you are in love! Guess I should get into the thieving business if it means stealing your heart!” Miura shot him a mischievous smile, trying to force her cheeks to return back to their original shade.
“Absolutely not- I was just giving you a description. She had seafoam hair, about to her shoulders, though hair can be easily changed, and she had dark emerald eyes-” He caught her looking at him, then was glad he narrowly avoided telling her that they looked similar. He’d never hear the end of it if he let her know that she had similar traits to somebody he just called ‘beautiful.’ “I suppose those can be changed as well. She was wearing a gas mask, so I couldn’t tell her facial structure.”
“What about her body? That’s harder to change.” Miura gave him a playful look and he glanced away. He was not falling into her trap.
“Small, athletic build, uh- curvy.” He tried to be nonchalant about it, but she still raised an eyebrow.
“So definitely your type?” He sent her a glare, but was saved by his boss sliding a letter to him.
“Already?” Aizawa’s eyes widened and Tsukauchi nodded.
“We’ll be opening the package separately this time around just in case Ms. Joke slipped up, since this was such a hurried case. Unfortunately, we couldn’t find anything on her grappling hook.” Aizawa accepted the letter, his eyebrows furrowed.
‘My darling Eraser,
Unfortunately, this is the last letter I’ll be able to send you, as well as the last gift. It pains me to write this- I wished our game could last forever. Don’t worry, the globe’s intact. I don’t need a little sparkly rock when you’re my world. Yes, this is my last letter, and my last gift, but I still have one more heist planned. It will be a little different next time, though, because the next thing I steal, I’m going to keep forever. I gave you the globe back, but I still want you to chase me to the ends of the earth. I wonder if you’ll be able to catch me?
I love you.
Ms. Joke’
Aizawa froze, his chest beginning to hurt. She was going to stop her heists? She was going to leave him?! His eyes wildly darted over her italic print, trying to find out if she was joking or not. Of all the times he’d wished that she was joking, this was the one that hurt the most. He forced himself to remain impassive, even though he felt like his world was crashing down.
“Miura-” He glanced up, noticing that her eyes were already locked on his. He passed her the letter. His voice cracked a little. “I need you to search all of the places that Ms. Joke might try to hit next.” She quickly read over the text, then turned back to him, a soft look in her dark emerald eyes. That almost crushed him even more.
“Mr. Aizawa?”
“Yes?”
“Please call me Emi.”
“Short for Emilia, I presume?” She shook her head.
“Just Emi. Also… If I may be so bold…” His eyes narrowed, studying her face. “I think the next place she’s going to hit is yours.”
“What do you mean?”
“She claims to be in love with you, right?” He was barely able to hold back his flustered expression. “And if she’s going to do one last heist, where she plans on keeping whatever she steals. If we go by patterns, she’s had her hands already on some of the most expensive objects to appear in our prefecture. In each of her letters, she tells you that they mean nothing to her compared to you.” He choked awkwardly, failing at keeping a straight face. He’d been known as a person who never showed his emotions, but Ms. Joke had to go and ruin that for him.
“So what you’re saying is-”
“The last thing she wants to steal is you. Er- or... something like that-” Miura trailed off with a blush. Aizawa stared at her for a few moments, ignoring the fact that his face was practically on fire. He didn’t know what to say. He figured he wouldn’t say anything. He couldn’t say anything- the idea that she’d want to steal him? He couldn’t understand why she even liked him. He’d only started believing she might actually care for him when she looked at him with those wide, innocent eyes, and told him she loved him. Chills ran up his spine when he remembered it. He was in way over his head - if she came to steal him, he’d probably end up following her to the end of the world and back, he was such a mess.
“I’m going to get kidnapped.” The dry words fell off his tongue before he could stop them, and Miura burst out laughing.
“Probably not, but that doesn’t sound too bad, does it?” She teased him and he ignored her. As long as Miura kept talking and making sure he didn’t have time to process his feelings, he’d be fine. He could respond in his normal deadpan manner, and focus on work again. As if that’s going to happen.
There was no way he’d be able to get Ms. Joke out of his mind.
Miura’s going away party involved a lot more alcohol than Aizawa expected. She tried multiple times to get him to sing with her at the karaoke bar, having sung with all of the other detectives. Aizawa drank a single beer, but decided that was enough for the night. He was still on-edge about Ms. Joke and her radio silence. The suspect list was much smaller than it had been seven months ago, but none of the suspects really stood out to him. It frustrated him that he only had a little bit of time left before she stole something and didn’t return it. He’d asked for extra security around a visiting jeweler, but didn’t have much else to go off of. He still didn’t believe Miura’s words about Ms. Joke coming for him.
Lost in thought, he flinched in surprise when Miura wrapped her arms around him, earning him a few glares from his coworkers.
“You’re wasting your time, Miura.”
“I told you, that’s not my name.” She glared at him. The girl seemed intoxicated, but he couldn’t smell any alcohol on her breath. Instead, it smelled rather sweet. He knew she’d been drinking, though, as she’d had a new beverage in hand in between each song.
“Emilia. Right.”
“Emi.” She corrected, and he tried to not roll his eyes. “Aizawa? You’ve drunk the least out of everyone tonight. Take me home.” There was a touch of mischief in her dark emerald eyes and he raised an eyebrow. She leaned against him, playing with his hand, her eyes beginning to droop. She was definitely drunk.
“I’m not taking you home.”
“Please? Eraser?” Her soft voice made him freeze, eyes widening.
“Ms. Joke..?”
“Emi. Please take me home? I don’t think I can walk anymore.” She corrected and he assumed that he must’ve made a mistake. She nestled against him, eyes closed against his neck.
“I’m not carrying you.” She responded only with steady, gentle breaths. Dammit, had she fallen asleep? He sighed, scooping her up and waving at his coworkers, letting them know he’d get her home safely.
Aizawa called a cab, mentally cursing that he had no idea where she lived. Not interested in dumping her body out by one of the universities in the area, he gave his address to the cab. He supposed it wasn’t too bad, getting to leave early. He needed to be alert for Ms. Joke’s next appearance. Miur- Emi snuggled against him. He wasn’t inexperienced with women, but he’d never really had any interest in people who couldn’t keep up with him intellectually. He supposed Emi was pretty bright, though she tended to always back-peddle her smarts in lieu of awful jokes and bad flirting. Besides, nobody could beat Ms. Joke.
He had a one-track mind when it came to that thief.
He paid the cab and pulled Emi out with him, carrying her bridal-styled to the door. Despite her even breaths, her heart was beating wildly against his. Or maybe that was his heart? Whenever he thought about Ms. Joke, it would skip again. He really needed to catch her already.
After entering his house, Aizawa had a tough time figuring out the next step. Should he lay her on the couch, or let her take his bed? He didn’t have any strong feelings either way, but tried deciding what would be the best course of action. He could always take the couch if she ended up being difficult to awaken, and he’d probably pull an all-nighter looking for Ms. Joke either way.
Emi adjusted herself in his arms and he realized he’d been thinking out loud, and for an awkwardly long time. Bed, it was. He went to his room, an incredibly minimalist design, with a four-poster bed, a dresser, a desk, and nothing else. It was clean, of course. He’d always preferred things neat and orderly.
Aizawa lay Emi on the bed, a golden curl getting stuck on his sleeve. Trying to be gentle, he unhooked the hair, only to accidentally pull it off entirely, revealing seafoam hair in a wig cap. Immediately, Emi’s eyes flicked open and she pinned him to the bed, her knees on his wrists while she unhooked the rest of her hair, letting it pour around her face. He froze, staring into her dark emerald eyes.
“Joke…?” His voice was dry, confused. She gave him a mischievous smile.
“Think you can still catch me?” She purred, and leaned down to give him a soft kiss. There was no alcohol on her tongue. Of course there wasn’t. And he’d still fallen for her - hook, line, and sinker. He tried to move one of his wrists out from under her. She let him go - testing him to see what he’d do. His fingers reached out, grazing her cheek, her hair. He usually didn’t like bright colours. Ms. Joke was anything but usual, though. He sat up and pulled her back to him, surprising them both with how eagerly he returned her kiss with many more. When he finally caught his breath, she laughed in exhilaration. He had to tell her, had to respond to her words from two weeks before, when her eyes were wide and full of the surprise of surviving a multi-story drop.
“I’m in love with you.” He whispered, cupping her face in his hands. She grinned, then leaned into him and gave him a light peck.
“I know.” That mischievous look was back. Emi brushed her forehead against his, arms wrapped around his neck, fingers laced into his black waves. He wondered how she slid under his radar for so long, even as they worked in the same office. She’d gotten by while all he could think about was her alter ego. She must’ve been laughing inside every time she teased him about Ms. Joke. He pulled her onto his lap and explored the inside of her mouth with his own.
He felt like an idiot. He wondered if he looked like one, too, chasing her shadow while she basked in the light, always a step ahead of him. He nipped at her neck.
Then, he froze, eyes locking onto one of his work jackets, handcuffs starting to spill out of one of the pockets.
Aizawa had a job to do. He’d been chasing Ms. Joke for months now, and couldn’t let his feelings get in the way of that. He lifted her and stood, distracting her with kisses as she wrapped herself around him like a koala on a branch. His breath caught in his throat. This was the only way to make sure she didn’t run away, right? He pressed her against the wall, earning a delighted gasp from the young woman. Just a few more moments - as long as he kept her distracted-
The handcuffs were gone. He noticed the playful glow in her eyes. Some not-entirely tasteful swears dropped from his lips and she kicked off the wall, throwing off his balance. He heard the click before he saw it, but tried to catch her anyways. She jogged backwards to the bed, and he reached for her, the handcuffs dangling off of one of his wrists. If he could just catch her-
She yanked him forward, then swung around the bed, his hand in hers. Before he could stop her, he felt his free arm getting tugged behind him. He turned and there was another click.
“You were so close, Eraser.” She leaned forward, her hands cupping his chin while his arms were stuck together on the opposite side of a bed post. This was absolutely not what he’d intended. Her lips against his definitely softened the blow, though.
“Joke, please don’t leave me.” His voice was soft, and she absentmindedly stroked his hair, her breath hot against his.
“You know I can’t stay here. I’ll be in another country soon. Don’t worry, I won’t steal from them. Probably.” She teased at his crestfallen expression. “Your heart was the only thing worth stealing anyways.”
“Congrats, you got it.” He choked on a dry laugh. Her expression softened and she stroked his cheek, his facial hair rough against her hands.
“Please come find me.” Her breath tickled his ear as she whispered. “I really do love you.” She pulled away, hand lingering on his skin for a moment longer.
“Joke, I-” He called after her back as she walked to the door. She paused for a moment. “I love you, too.”
She slid his phone to his feet, a mischievous grin on her face, but a touch of sadness in her eyes. “I’ll look forward to seeing how far you can chase me next time.” She gave him one last parting wink. “No jokes.”