Chapter Text
Tuesday, August 7
Every other Tuesday, Barok and Herlock would meet at the pub and have dinner. It was the detective’s idea to meet regularly to talk about how everything is going with Iris – Barok shows up, even if he’s not the biggest fan of the detective – this way that he can feel like he’s finally contributing to his niece’s childhood, even if he’s ten years late.
However, usually the talk about Iris takes only about thirty minutes, and the remainder of the time is an opportunity for Herlock to talk about whatever investigations or inventions he’s working on. Barok is willing to endure it to an extent – he knows this is Herlock’s way of trying to get him to talk about his life, but Barok is ever so unwilling. He can’t really talk about his work, since most of the cases he’s working on are confidential, and he doesn’t really have any life outside of work.
Thus they carry on with their biweekly dinners – Herlock regaling him with tales of him and Iris’ new ventures, Barok quietly eating and quietly nodding along to whatever Herlock is saying.
“Have you considered, my dear friend, that perhaps you should be putting yourself out there?”
Barok takes a sip of his wine, “What do you mean by that?”
“l mean, you’re a single, thirty three year old man, with a six figure salary,” Herlock points out, “Everyone should be lining up out of the door trying to date you, wouldn’t you agree?”
Barok could only sigh – he would much prefer if he was not the topic of the conversation. Is there even a reason to bring this up at this point in time?
“I am perfectly content being with myself, thank you very much.”
“But hear me out, my dear fellow – what if you had somebody akin to a partner? Someone to keep you company at home?”
“…Iris is welcome to stay with me, but not you.”
The smile immediately dissipates from Herlock’s face.
“Well, I wasn’t trying to say that you should stay with us, but that kind of hurts.”
Barok crosses his arms, “Get to the point, please, Sholmes.”
“All I’m trying to say is, this is the prime time for you to find a belle or a beau. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Ah, yes, starting a family. It is not an unfamiliar topic of conversation to Barok, and he’s definitely considered it before, as he watches his colleagues at work either get proposed or married over the years. Some of them even have kids now, what a concept.
However, Barok has once gotten a front row seat to the drama that happens when a marriage falls apart, and he’s sworn never to put himself in that situation.
“Mind you, I’m not implying you should start a family – you have Iris and me after all!” Herlock reassures him, as if he could read Barok’s mind. “But perhaps a bit of romance would do you well, hm?”
“Tell me, why would you date someone if you do not intend on marrying them?”
“Often, my dear fellow, you’ll find that you learn more about yourself in the presence of another!” Herlock advertises, “At the very least, it would be nice to have a companion, wouldn’t you agree?”
“For the sake of the argument…let’s say I agree,” Barok concedes, “How do you suppose I go about finding someone?”
Herlock pauses for a moment, giving Barok a look that says “are you fucking serious right now?”
Barok gives him a puzzled look in return, and Herlock’s face instantly lights up before he throws his head back, laughing maniacally.
“Technology is a marvel, dear Barok! Certainly you’ve heard of dating apps? Practically everybody in London is using it!”
“Herlock, this is an utterly ridiculous idea,” Barok immediately refuses. “You claim that everyone in London is using it. There are nine million people living here, you–”
“Precisely my point!” Herlock leans over, extending his arms with such enthusiasm, he almost knocked over his glass of Sprite – Barok immediately scrambles to catch it before it spills on the table.
“With nine million people on the app, one of them has bound to be your soulmate,” Herlock muses, completely ignoring the havoc he nearly caused.
“This endeavor will be nothing but looking for a needle in a haystack. I don’t think it will be worthwhile.”
“Because you don’t look, my friend,” he argues, “Do you really think people find life partners just by coincidence?”
“Yes,” Barok replies immediately, trying to cut off this line of questioning. “You and Yujin, for example. It’s as if the gods just dropped him in front of you in that library.”
Now it’s Herlock’s turn to be silent, as he sits back on his chair, nodding to himself. Glad that’s over at least; Barok silently congratulates himself for coming up with that counterargument.
“Now can we talk about…”
His sentence is cut short as he realizes what the detective is holding in his hand – an iPhone with a black and red case – Barok’s phone. Herlock is a man of many talents, after all – not only for investigations, but apparently for larceny as well.
“Ohh, what an adorable cat you have on your homescreen!”
Panic and anger immediately grips him. He reaches over, trying to take it back, but Herlock easily dodges his grabs.
“Give it back!” Barok demands, his voice suddenly full of rage. “You don’t know the password anyway.”
“May I remind you that I am a great detective, capable of opening any lock within five seconds?”
“Herlock, I will only say it one more time,” Barok says, a little louder this time, “Give my phone back.”
Herlock, as expected, takes this more as a suggestion rather than a demand – he types in a combination of numbers, and Barok feels his stomach churn when Herlock looks up at him with a shit-eating grin a mere four seconds later.
“Clearly it’s 4747– “Iris” on a T9 keyboard,” Herlock helpfully elaborates. “For a great detective like me, it is a simple matter!”
If only they weren't in such a public setting, Barok would have grabbed the bottle of wine next to him and smashed it against Herlock’s head. The urge to do that is still there, but Barok thinks of the poor employees who will have to call the ambulance and clean up the mess – he decides not to proceed.
So now he is sitting across the table, watching as Herlock fiddles around with his phone. Every tap or swipe of his fingers only makes Barok’s blood boil; what is there to look at on his phone anyway? Is he going through his camera roll? His emails? His Slack conversations?
“And done!”
Herlock smiles gleefully as he hands Barok his phone back, and Barok snatches it out of his hand. He immediately looks at the screen to see what the hell just happened.
Sitting nicely at the bottom row of his homepage is a new square that wasn’t there before. It is pink and with a white fire logo in the middle, and is called Tinder.
“…I’m deleting this crap right now.”
“Please, Barok, I’ll even be so kind as to help you set up your profile!”
“You have been in a long-distance, long-term relationship for fifteen years. You don’t know a single thing about dating.”
“The point is I have a boyfriend, and you don’t.”
“This conversation is over,” Barok growls, pressing his finger down on the Tinder square and holding it until all the squares in his homepage are wriggling.
“Barok, come on,” Herlock pleads, “Truthfully, Iris put me up to this. She is worried for you.”
Barok shakes his head as he taps on the minus button. A new prompt appears on his phone, asking if he’s sure he wants to delete the app – yes, he’s pretty damn sure. Herlock is only bringing up his niece because he knows she is the one person that Barok could never say no to, but she is currently not here to substantiate his claim, so why pay it any mind?
“Every day she asks if we should invite you over for dinner, saying things like, Barry must be so lonely eating dinner alone every night!” Herlock tells him, complete with the imitation of Iris’ voice and expression. Barok still wants to punch him in the face.
“Having Iris is enough for me. I don’t need anyone else.”
“But you see her only on the weekends,” Herlock sighs, “Excluding Iris and myself, when was the last time you spoke to anyone outside of your work? A deep, heart to heart conversation, just for the sake of it?”
Barok ponders this question as he sits alone in his apartment that night.
Since coming back, he’s gone to the gym for a couple hours, then he took a shower, made himself a ham sandwich and salad for dinner, and now he’s pouring himself a big glass of Merlot.
It’s currently a little past 10PM, and he knows he only has two hours of energy left at most. He’s going to check his email one last time, put on some music and read a book until his eyes feel way too heavy to keep open.
This is definitely part of the reason why Barok is single. If not for his appointment with Herlock, he would have spent more time at work, examining evidence, writing up case files, talking to witnesses… admittedly he is a bit of a workaholic, but there’s no reason for him to rush home immediately after work. It’s not as if anyone here is waiting for him.
…maybe he can start to understand where Herlock is coming from.
“Barok” is too strange of a name, anyone who knows him will immediately recognize it.
“Barry” is the first alternative that comes to mind, but he’s not sure how he is comfortable using it around strangers. Iris gave him that nickname, after all, and he has made it very clear that she is the only one allowed to use it. He could also choose a completely different name, but it feels like deception – so “Barry” is what he types into the box asking for his name. If there are truly nine million people on this app, there is a chance that someone he knows in real life could be here. It would be incredibly awkward if any one of them came across his profile and immediately pinpointed him based on his name alone.
What are his interests? Wine, for sure. He also likes cats and books as well… he doesn’t think any of the other tags really describe him, so he leaves it at that.
Now comes the time to add a picture of himself. The instructions say that they recommend having five pictures, but he finds that a little invasive; five is just too much. Is this how witnesses feel when they are on the stand?
He looks through his camera roll for a while – it can’t be a picture from work, and it can’t be a picture with Iris or Herlock. It simply feels wrong to drag his dear niece into this whole dating app affair.
He decides he’s not comfortable putting more than one picture on his profile, so he must choose carefully. He eventually settled on a photo Iris took during one of their outings a few months ago. It shows Barok sitting on the grass in Hyde Park, with a can of San Pellegrino in his hand (if you look really closely, Herlock is climbing one of the trees in the background, you have to really zoom in). He’s not too sure why he decided on this particular picture – well, his outfit looks pretty good, a navy blue knit sweater with a white turtleneck under it and black pants; while he’s not exactly smiling, his resting bitch face isn’t as powerful in this one, so hopefully only a select few will find his face scary.
Now that he’s gotten past that step, he’s presented with a blank screen and the instruction to ‘Tell us about yourself!’ Of course, there’s always the option to skip it, but perhaps he should put something down – his experience as a prosecutor has taught him, you can only tell so much about someone from their appearance. But what should one even say?
My friend made me make a profile because he thinks I work all the time, but I’m not particularly looking for anything. If you like wine I have plenty of it.
He’s fully aware that it describes nothing about him except for his alcoholism, but at least it’s the truth.
Now he’s finally allowed to look at other people’s profiles.
It’s an overwhelming amount of information – so many faces and names. Some of them have obviously been altered on Facetune or something similar, some of them are of couples in an ‘open relationship’, and some don’t even show their faces, just a dick or a pair of boobs.
Five minutes in and he is ready to conclude that this is a place for depravity. He has come across a few profiles that he considers proper: only one name on the profile, accompanied with a picture that somewhat shows their face – but these are few and far between, not enough to compensate for the number of dick pictures he’s seen (although some of them admittedly look nice).
He closes the app with a sigh and opens his messaging app instead.
“I am not opening Tinder ever again. I have seen things I wish to unsee.”
As soon as he sent that, the three dots from Herlock’s side appeared, because of course he’s not asleep yet.
So you did make a profile, Barok, I’m proud of you!
It’s okay if you don’t see anything you like, it’s your first day after all!
I don’t think so. I have seen one too many male genitalia tonight.
Did you set up any filters?
Barok pauses briefly – Herlock is saying something that might be useful for once.
If you go on settings, you can sort by age, location, and some other things. But I also believe in casting your net as wide as possible!
You are surprisingly knowledgeable in this field, Sholmes. Anything I should tell Yujin?
Worry not – he’s fully aware that I have been on the app, for investigative purposes! Though unfortunately I have deleted my profile.
I’m sure.
Rome wasn't built in one day, my friend! Set up your filters and give it some time. Perhaps someone will catch your eye!
Wednesday, August 8
Life resumes as usual the next day. His alarm wakes him up at 7:30 AM; he gets out of bed and groggily starts boiling the water for tea and puts a couple pieces of bread into the toaster. As he waits for the bread to pop back out, he checks his phone – there are ten new emails, no new messages, and a notification from Tinder. “You have 99+ new likes, click to see them!” it says.
…ninety nine likes within less than eight hours, really? They must have inflated the numbers.
But he has neither the time nor energy for that right now, so he simply dismisses it. His toaster pops and his water kettle turns off within seconds of each other – he pours the hot water into his cup, which has a cat-shaped tea infuser (a Christmas gift from Iris), then opens his fridge to find something to put on his bread… today feels like a blueberry jam kind of day.
Another part of the reason Barok is single is that he’s a creature of habit. He’s had the same exact routine for about ten years now, so why fix what isn’t broken?
The biggest change is that he became aware of Iris’s existence last year, so he started meeting up with her and Herlock on the weekends and having biweekly dinners with the detective to talk about her care. Though Herlock’s parenting skills are questionable at best, Barok knows he would make an even worse parental figure, when you consider his obsession with work and alcoholism. At the end of the day, the only real change it caused for his routine is that he would spend his Saturdays at their Baker Street residence.
If something as significant as a whole new niece barely makes him budge, he can’t imagine anything else will.
The rest of the day went by normally – with work being so busy, he doesn’t really have time to think about the dating app. Whenever he needs to use his phone, there is always an element of urgency, whether it be contacting detectives at the station or taking a call from his boss.
He decides to call it a day at around 8 or 9 PM, workaholic as he is, and drives straight back to his apartment. He gets changed, then goes downstairs to the gym for a couple hours, takes a shower when he’s done, and then it’s time to make dinner.
Today, he’s sipping on a glass of Zinfandel as he ponders the contents of his fridge – he should probably go grocery shopping in the next few days. There’s still enough ingredients to make some salad and sandwiches, though.
He finally gets to check his phone again as he sits down to eat. Herlock sent him a picture five hours ago – it’s a picture of Iris, holding a felted doll of a white rabbit that she made. Seeing his adorable niece after a long day… Barok can’t help but smile as he sends a heart emoji in response.
The three dots immediately appear on Herlock’s side, and Barok’s smile immediately disappears.
Are we still good for Saturday brunch?
Yes. I will be there at 10 AM.
That’s too early! Come at 11
Iris can open the door for me, so we won’t disturb your sleep.
Seems like that’s the end of the conversation – Barok breathes in relief that Herlock didn’t bring up anything about Tinder.
…speaking of that, now that he has some free time, perhaps he should check it again? He thinks of the notification he saw earlier this morning that ninety nine people had liked his profile, but that certainly can’t be true… right?
He can’t deny that his curiosity is piqued, but then he thinks back to all the crazy things he saw last night; is it really worth going down that rabbit hole again? Herlock mentioned setting up filters, maybe that will help…
…he decides that he will set up the correct filters, and look for only ten minutes. He pours himself another glass of wine and drinks all of it in one sitting; what he’s about to do is so incredibly stupid, he might as well blame it on alcohol.
He can perhaps understand why Herlock may have used this app for his detective work. You get to see many faces and many names at once, which is very overwhelming, but people also like to snitch on themselves in the description. He’s seen quite a few that openly admit to cheating and using drugs, and while he cannot prosecute every single one of them, something like this can potentially become evidence in court.
He swipes left on most of them. Even if they have a picture, a name, and a few sentences about themselves, the idea of talking to a random stranger to see if they might be interested in a relationship is just too much for him to comprehend.
At around the eight minute mark, he comes across a profile that gives him pause.
Kaz, 23. Definitely younger than the age filter he set, but for some reason, he doesn’t feel the immediate urge to swipe left.
The first picture is of a young man with black hair standing behind a podium – it looks like some kind of speech competition; the second picture shows him handling a katana while he’s in traditional Japanese clothing, which makes him look like a samurai; the third picture is a bit grainy, but seems like he’s with a group of friends in a restaurant.
The app points out that they both have cats as an interest, and Kaz’s other interests include music and going outdoors.
“178 cm, Law student, I need a study buddy or a sugar daddy. If you need to speak to a lawyer I’m here ;)”
Something about Kaz appeals to him; it definitely has to do with the second picture, since Barok also loves fencing and medieval sword techniques. Him being a law student is definitely interesting too, although he probably shouldn’t be advertising his services on a shady app like this…
Barok has yet to swipe right on anyone, but Kaz is the first one that caught his interest. Perhaps he can give it a try.
“IT’S A MATCH!”
He nearly throws his phone across the room when the screen starts flashing, displaying those words on the screen.
So does that mean this Kaz fellow already swiped right on him earlier? Either way, he didn’t expect his first right swipe would lead to a match – it just seems too good to be true.
But when he opens the chat screen, a circle showing Kaz’s picture is sitting on top, meaning they can directly message each other… so it’s real.
This is terrifying. Barok has no idea who this young man is except for his name, age, and appearance, but now they have the means to directly contact each other, just because they happened to make the same single motion on their phone screens. It already makes him feel exposed, even before they started talking.
He reminds himself that he was only planning to spend ten minutes doing this, so he puts his phone down on the couch. Technology is great, but to use it this way feels illegal.
He’s in the middle of sipping his drink when his phone plays a jingle he’s never heard before, and to his horror, it’s a new Tinder notification.
“Kaz sent you a message, tap here to see!”
So the young man must have also gotten the notification that the app found him a match. He sure responded to it quickly.
Barok is torn on whether or not he wants to see it or not. On one hand, this is a stranger with unknown intentions whom he just met… although to use “met” is an exaggeration. This is nothing like approaching someone at a bar, where the other person is physically in front of him, so he can gauge their body language and hear their voice when they speak; now he has none of that information to help him steer the conversation.
On the other hand, he felt compelled to swipe right for a reason. Primarily that Kaz is very handsome and knows his way around a sword. Perhaps this conversation won’t be a complete waste of time?
He mulls over this decision as he pours himself more wine. If he was at a bar or at an event, and someone like Kaz happened to be in his line of sight, would he try to strike a conversation? He imagines that he’ll be surrounded by coworkers, so probably not – but what if he’s alone? (Then he remembers why he doesn’t go to bars: he has wine at his apartment, and it’s much better than whatever crap they serve.)
Hypothetically, if he was to find himself at a bar alone, and he sees Kaz… he probably wouldn’t actively approach him, but if he was approached and spoken to, he wouldn’t just ignore him, either.
So if Kaz has made the first move in texting him… that’s close enough, right? Perhaps he should reply, even if it’s just to fill the time.
“Hey! Whats up?
“Who’s that climbing the tree in the background of your picture?”
Barok feels his heart race as he reads the text that he received ten minutes ago. So Kaz is observant enough to notice Sholmes in the background of his picture.
He’s an acquaintance. Though I must say, whoever put his brain together must have left a few screws loose.
That’s funny
No offense, but you really text like a 33 year old haha
Excuse me?
Well, every friend group has at least one insane person
Is that the same friend who asked you to get on Tinder?
You guessed correctly.
I’m glad you took his advice then. We wouldn’t have met otherwise.
I’m still unsure whether or not it’s a good decision.
How many people have you matched with so far?
You are the first one.
Really? Lucky you!
Why did you swipe right on me then?
It was the second picture, the one with the Japanese sword. Do you have experience in swordfighting?
You’re the first one to ask me that actually, everyone else thinks it’s a costume
Yes, my dad taught me when I was young, now I don’t have anyone to practice with
I can understand how you feel. It is a very niche sport.
I used to do fencing as a hobby, though unfortunately I don’t have time for that anymore.
That’s cool! You should teach me sometime
My turn to ask. Why did you swipe right on me?
Because you’re hot, duh
Do you know what a DILF is?
I’m afraid not.
It stands for Dad I’d Like to Fuck. You for example.
He feels his cheeks getting hot as he reads that text. He didn’t expect Kaz to be so upfront about his… lust.
Just making sure, you’re not here to cheat on your spouse or anything like that?
No, I have never been married.
That’s kind of hard to believe… but I trust you
Are you free this Friday? What time do you get done with work?
He feels his entire body freeze. This stranger, whose existence he wasn’t even aware of two hours ago, called him a DILF, and is now asking him, Barok van Zieks, out on a date? His nerves must be made of steel.
If he didn’t want this to go any further, this would be the point where he would say no, delete the app, and never think about it again. He could carry on with life as usual and pretend none of this ever happened.
But as soon as he types out “No, sorry,” on the textbox, a different part of his brain makes him delete it.
The conversation has been good so far – Kaz definitely has driven most of it, Barok simply answering his questions. Well, if he’s a law student, it’s no surprise that talking is his strongest suit. If he can be this charismatic in text, a real life conversation should at least be entertaining…
It varies, but usually around 7 PM.
Let’s do 7:30, does that work for you?
Yes, that sounds like a good idea.
Since I chose the time, you should choose the place. I’m curious to see what you like to eat.
I will decide and let you know by tomorrow. Is there any particular cuisine you would like? Or perhaps any that I should avoid?
I don’t eat chicken, but other than that I’m good with anything
Noted.
Ok I need to finish this essay now, but I’m excited to see you!
“Barok! I must say it is unlike you to call at–”
“…Herlock Sholmes.”
“Oh dear, he’s angry, isn’t he.”
Barok draws a deep breath, unsure how to break this news – but he can’t keep it to himself either, or it’s going to cause him anxiety all night long, and he needs to be up at seven thirty tomorrow to go to work, and he has a meeting first thing in the morning that will require his full attention –
“Barry!”
All these thoughts dissipate immediately as soon as he hears his niece’s voice.
“Iris, my sweet darling, why are you still up at this hour?”
“I just finished baking a batch of gingerbread cookies! I’m going to give you some when I see you on Saturday!”
“Oh, that sounds absolutely delightful,” he compliments her, “You should go to sleep soon, alright? Don’t overwork yourself.”
“You too, Barry!”
And she hangs up.
Barok sighs – this certainly isn’t the first time Herlock has used Iris as a diversion. Calling again would be pointless, since it will likely go straight to voicemail…
Well… it was Herlock who got him in this situation in the first place, but he’s also been in a long term relationship – what does he know about going on a first date? Whatever advice he gives won’t be helpful anyway. Barok can figure it out by himself, he’s a grown man with a job.
Friday, August 10
I’m not scared.
Barok tells himself that over and over again as he sits on the table, waiting impatiently. It’s only 7:25 PM, and they had agreed to meet at 7:30, so if anything, he’s early.
He can’t help but still feel anxious – what if Kaz decided not to show up? Maybe he had a change of mind at the very last minute, or he got tied up with something more important… If that happens, Barok would have to eat alone, and while he’s used to doing that at home, to be stood up in public is definitely embarrassing.
He keeps an eye on his phone, just in case he gets a text from Kaz. There’s only a few minutes left before he knows whether or not all of this is a wild sheep’s chase. If it is, he’ll have no choice but to order a meal, go home, and drink himself to sleep.
“Barry?”
He nearly jumped out of his chair when he heard the voice coming from behind him.
He turns around, and standing behind him is the most handsome young man he’s ever seen – Kaz, with his jet black hair and sharp eyes and big smile. He’s wearing a red bomber jacket with a black v-neck shirt under it, and jeans so skinny you can see every curve of his legs. He looks like the pictures on his profile, of course, but to finally see him in person – something about his presence is so enticing.
“Kaz, I presume?” Barok barely retains enough of his composure to greet the young man, but he can feel his heart rattling in his ribs. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“Pleasure’s all mine!” Kaz replies as he sits across from Barok, “This place is pretty nice. Do you come here often?”
“I usually eat here with my coworkers,” Barok explains, “I hope it is to your liking.”
“Don’t worry about it, I primarily wanted to meet you. It was fun talking to you online.”
Barok feels his cheeks getting redder, but tries his best to ignore it and simply mutters “Thank you.”
“Did you order anything yet?”
Barok shakes his head, “Just this bottle of wine. Do you drink?”
“Yes, but I don’t like wine, it gives me a headache,” Kaz replies as he looks at the menu sheet.
Barok simply watches as the young man in front of him is pondering the food options – he’s tilting his head slightly to the left and stroking his chin, his lips slightly pouting – he looks good in his profile pictures, but in real life he’s breathtaking, Barok finds himself unable to look away.
Until Kaz looks up at him, that is, and he realizes he’s probably been staring for way too long – but to look away when presented with such a beautiful piece of art would just be disrespectful, wouldn’t it? He immediately turns to look at the menu to avoid the awkward eye contact, but he can hear Kaz’s chuckle.
“By the way, I have a request before we talk further tonight.”
“Sure. What is it?”
“As you’ve probably guessed, Barry is not my real name,” Barok tells him, “Please call me Barok.”
Kaz nods, but doesn’t seem surprised at all at that information.
“In that case, I’ll tell you my name too,” he replies, “It’s Kazuma.”
“Thank you for honoring my request, Kazuma,” Barok thanked him, also using this chance to practice pronouncing the name correctly. Kazuma doesn’t seem to have a negative response, so Barok can only hope he’s saying it accurately enough.
“Barok… it’s an unusual name, for sure,” Kazuma muses – Barok feels his heartbeat accelerate hearing his name roll off Kazuma’s tongue. In fact, anything the young man does makes his heart jump every time.
“So you’re a law student?”
“Yes, I’m in my final year, so I’m preparing for the bar exam,” Kazuma explains, “And then I will need two years of training before I can be fully qualified as a lawyer.”
“I wish you the best of luck on your exam,” Barok replies, “No matter how much you study for it, you never truly feel ready.”
“Yes, I’ve been reading all day for the past few months now, so I’m looking for excuses to go outside and relax a little bit.”
He turns to Barok with a smile, “What about you? I’m guessing you have a high paying job that takes up most of your time?”
Barok nods, “I work as a prosecutor.”
“Oh, I’m really starting to understand why you swiped right on me.”
Barok doesn’t reply to that, just crosses his arms as if trying to defend himself against these allegations.
“Is it not enough that I find you attractive?”
(Wait, that came out wrong.)
Barok feels the blood rush to his cheeks in embarrassment, and the look Kazuma gives him says it all. Barok suddenly feels the urge to grab the wine glass in front of him and crush it in his hands.
“Thank you for the compliment,” Kazuma says, smiling cheekily.
Come on, Barok, you’re a lawyer, talking is a big part of your job! So why is this student making him stumble on every other word? Barok takes a sip of his wine, trying to calm down.
“Have you decided whether you want to be a defense attorney or a prosecutor?” Barok asks in an attempt to switch the topic.
“Oh, well, I’m still thinking about that,” Kazuma replies, “I must say, I’m leaning towards becoming an attorney. Our justice system isn’t perfect, and I want to help those disadvantaged by it.”
“A noble pursuit. Do you see me as part of the problem, then?”
“Hm… it’s hard to say,” he ponders, “For me, I want to reveal the truth behind every case. Some prosecutors uphold this principle, of course, but too many are willing to falsify evidence or manipulate witnesses just for a Guilty verdict. Although I’m sure there are many defense lawyers out there who also twist the truth to get an acquittal.”
“Yes, I have seen it happen many times in my career,” Barok sighs, “Unfortunately, the vilest criminals are the only ones with the money and power to manipulate the court. Some of them should never be allowed back into society, and yet the only punishment they receive is a fine.”
“I suppose there’s always corruption, no matter which side you’re on,” Kazuma concurs.
“I’m glad to see that there is still integrity in the younger generation of lawyers. Perhaps you all will spearhead a real change in our system.”
Kazuma nods.
“As much as I’d love to keep talking with you about law, I don’t want to make you talk about work on a date.”
Barok doesn’t reply as he takes another sip of wine – Kazuma hits the nail in the head. But Barok spends the majority of his days at work, how could he not?
“What else do you like, Barok? Movies, music, anything?”
He tries to think of anything that may be relevant – he doesn’t really watch TV, and since he’s usually drinking, his brain doesn’t really register anything that’s going on. The books he reads at night are about history or law, so those are still vaguely related to his work.
“I listen to Elton John.”
Kazuma squints, “…I thought you were thirty three, not sixty.”
“I don’t have time for such frivolous things due to my work.”
“Oh no,” Kazuma sighs, “All work and no play makes Barok a dull boy. We have to fix that.”
He’s heard this plenty of times before, of course, but hearing it from Kazuma is… doing something to him. It’s making his heart race and his head spin – if Kazuma’s goal was to get a rise out of him, it’s kind of working.
Kazuma leans forward, and Barok is suddenly struggling to keep his eyes on Kazuma’s face, especially when his shirt is low enough to see his chest.
“What’s your idea of fun, then, Kazuma?”
Either the alcohol or Kazuma’s sweet talking must have shut off his brain, but the young man has somehow successfully convinced him to take him back to the apartment. He probably wouldn’t have if he was completely sober, since he would worry about what might happen if he brings a stranger home – but he decided that he can probably take Kazuma in a fight if he makes an attempt on his life. There’s also the fact that he’s too enamored with Kazuma to say no to his request.
Now they’re making out on Barok’s couch – Kazuma’s jacket is abandoned on the floor, and he has his hands all over Barok, trying to get him out of his suit. Barok’s mind has given up on trying to understand the situation, and now he’s just going with the flow. Kazuma tastes sweet, sweeter than any wine he’s ever had, he can’t get enough of it.
“Have you ever had sex with a man?”
Barok nods, “A long time ago, but I know how it works.”
“...I was hoping you’d say no,” Kazuma mutters, “Anyway, will you let me lead this time?”
“You can do as you please.”
Kazuma grabs Barok by his tie and pulls him into another passionate kiss. Kazuma’s kisses are ravenous, his tongue moving around quickly to feel in Barok’s mouth. Barok finally decides to help him and takes off his suit, and now he’s working on undoing his tie. Every touch from the younger man sets his nerves alight, blood rushing to his groins; Kazuma smells nice, smells faintly of cigarettes and fresh laundry.
Kazuma starts undoing the buttons of Barok’s dress shirt, he’s so aroused his hands are trembling slightly – as soon as he undid them all, he places his mouth around Barok’s nipple and starts sucking on it. Barok moans at the sensation of Kazuma’s warm tongue sliding across his nipple, as Kazuma also squeezes the other nipple with his fingers. Kazuma would occasionally bite the nipple in his mouth, and he finds that this makes Barok moan even louder.
“I’m glad I got to you before anyone else,” Kazuma whispers, “The moment I saw you, I can’t stop thinking about you.”
He gets up from the couch and gets on his knees on the floor between Barok’s legs. He slowly spreads them apart, planting his nose right into Barok’s crotch and nuzzling against it. Barok’s already hard, his dick pushing against the fabric of his pants – Kazuma slowly runs his fingers up and down the length, and though Barok’s dick is still in his pants, Kazuma can feel that the older man is quivering under his hands.
“Are you okay?”
Barok gulps as he slowly nods, “It feels good.”
These feelings are just so foreign to him, and it feels like his brain is slowly turning into mush – his body is getting hot, and as much as he wants to tell Kazuma to hurry, wants to shove his dick into Kazuma’s mouth and watch him choke, he’s holding back. He’d agreed to let Kazuma have control, he should try to honor it.
“You’re being such a tease, Kazuma.”
Kazuma’s breath feels hot against his dick, his fingers are now playing with his balls, but the fabric of his pants is still in the way.
“Alright, alright,” Kazuma gives in as he unzips Barok’s pants – when he finally frees the dick from beneath the layers of fabric, Kazuma pauses, just staring at it in awe. Barok feels the blood creep up to his cheeks again, embarrassed that he’s being this vulnerable in front of Kazuma, but he can’t deny that there’s a rush to it. The exhilarating thought that such a beautiful man like Kazuma wants him.
“Sorry.” Kazuma snaps out of his trance, “For some reason I thought you’d be circumcised.”
“…is that a problem?”
“No.” Kazuma wraps his fingers around his cock, bringing his mouth around the tip and swiping his tongue across the slit – Barok moans, his hand instinctively grabbing Kazuma’s hair, as if trying to keep his head in place.
Barok immediately realizes what he’s done, and tries to pull his hand back, but Kazuma grabs him by the wrist, forcing him to stay.
“You can be rough with me. I don’t mind.”
Before Barok could protest, Kazuma already had his mouth around his dick again, slowly bringing the entire length into his mouth. Barok’s head is spinning – Kazuma’s mouth feels warm and wet, and it’s really hard to resist the urge to fuck his mouth, see how much he can take before he breaks –
His hand on Kazuma’s head involuntarily jerks, practically slamming his mouth against his dick, making Kazuma let out a muffled moan – Barok’s already hard, but hearing that noise definitely made him even more aroused. Kazuma looks up at him from between his legs, tears forming in the corner of his eyes, mouth stuffed with cock and spit dripping to his chin; to think that this is the same man who just had an argument with him about law during dinner, what a hot mess. He closes his eyes as he continues sucking on the dick in his mouth, making the most lewd noises every time Barok bucks his hips into his mouth. He tip of his dick is hitting the back of Kazuma’s throat, but even that’s not enough, he wants to be deeper– but it feels good, and it’s mesmerizing to watch Kazuma’s head bob up and down between his legs, as he looks up every now and then to see how Barok is reacting.
Eventually he pulls away, and he reaches to the back pocket of his jeans to pull out a bottle of lube.
“…so you planned for this?”
“I meant it when I said you’re a DILF, you know,” Kazuma says as he unzips his pants and impatiently takes them off. “We should go to the bedroom.”
Kazuma pushes Barok to sit on the edge of the bed and gets on his lap to kiss him – this time around Barok has both his hands on Kazuma’s ass, firmly squeezing them. He’s already thinking about how tight Kazuma’s going to be around his cock–
They break apart from the kiss and Barok slides two slick fingers into Kazuma’s hole, and he hisses in surprise – Barok can feel Kazuma’s entire body trembling, trying to adjust to the thick fingers in his ass, and as Barok carefully spreads apart his finger, trying help Kazuma’s muscles relax. Kazuma’s fingers are digging onto his back, moaning into his shoulder with every push of his fingers. Eventually he decides it’s okay to add another finger – Kazuma moans loudly at the added sensation inside him, his ass squeezing tightly around Barok’s fingers, but he’s pushing into Barok’s hand, as if trying to get the fingers deeper inside.
“I want you inside me, Barok.”
Barok sighs as he lifts Kazuma’s chin with his free hand. They kiss again, and this time Barok can feel Kazuma pushing him down to the bed, so he lies down.
Kazuma pulls Barok’s fingers out of himself, generously putting lube on it before he positions himself on top of Barok’s dick, and slowly pushes himself down inch by inch. It takes every single bit of determination from Barok not to cum immediately – Kazuma’s moaning his name, and his ass is so tight around Barok, it feels like he really shouldn’t have fit in there; it’s all just too much to take in. His brain is on fire, watching as his dick slowly disappears into Kazuma; all he can think about is how good this feels.
“You’re so big,” Kazuma remarks as he finally takes the whole length inside him, “Ahh, I want you to rearrange my guts with your dick.”
“…that’s a rather graphic depiction for sex.”
“Kazuma now starts to move, slowly rising himself up and slowly moving back down. Barok moans and grunts as his dick slides in and out of Kazuma – he’s moving way too slow, and Barok needs more friction, so he bucks his hips up into Kazuma as he’s coming down, and it makes for a loud slap as their bodies meet. Kazuma moans, thrown off his rhythm, but with every thrust from Barok his breathing grows more erratic, desperate.
Barok sits up as best as he can, his hands holding onto Kazuma’s shoulders as he slams the young man against his cock; Kazuma throws his head back as he cries Barok’s name. He takes it as a sign to keep going, continuing to fuck Kazuma relentlessly, craving the wet heat of his ass around his dick. The sound of their bodies slapping against each other fills the room – it feels unreal, being pinned down to the bed by Kazuma, watching him ride his dick, and with every thrust it feels like he’s getting deeper.
“Here, give me a second.”
Barok grunts as Kazuma lifts himself off his dick, exposing it to the cold air in the room, but he patiently waits as Kazuma turns around and lies down on the bed on his stomach, hiking his ass towards Barok. He puts his fingers around his hole, spreading it open for Barok to see.
Barok wastes no time, grabbing Kazuma by his waist and slamming his entire cock into his body – this position is definitely better, since Barok can adjust his angles better, thrusting into a new spot each time to see what Kazuma likes best. He must have hit a particularly sensitive spot inside Kazuma, and the young man makes a new noise he hasn’t heard tonight.
It’s a shame he can’t see Kazuma’s face – he wants to watch this cheeky little man come undone under his touch. He bends over as he thrusts this time, pushing his entire weight down on Kazuma.
“Who would’ve thought… the honorable law student would be such a whore.”
“Oh, fuck,” Kazuma moans, “Yes, I’m a good for nothing slut who likes to be dicked down.”
Hearing that takes Barok out for a brief second – a humiliation kink, that was unexpected. But it flips a switch in Barok’s mind, and whatever reservations he had before about hurting Kazuma disappears from his mind, replaced with primal lust. He slams his hips into Kazuma as hard as he can, chasing his own pleasure.
“Cum inside me,” Kazuma begs, “Please, I want you so bad, Barok–”
With that invitation, Barok reaches his peak, spilling his load into Kazuma’s ass, feeling the oxytocin rush through his entire body as he comes – Kazuma holds on to him for dear life as he too came, his warm cum dripping on the bed.
They both fall down, Barok laying on top of Kazuma as he tries to regain his breath. The orgasm he had was so intense, Barok feels like it emptied his brain of any thought, and his body feels light as a feather.
“Are you okay?”
Barok realizes he’s probably way too heavy to be lying on top of Kazuma, and immediately gets up. Kazuma groans as he feels Barok slowly sliding out of him, and turns to him with a pout.
“You don’t want to keep going?”
“…I’m afraid not. My stamina is no longer what it used to be.”
Kazuma breaks into a smile, “I’m kidding.”
He grins as he rolls over – Barok gulps upon seeing the cum splatter on Kazuma’s stomach, and also the red marks around his waist where Barok held him; it looks like it might be the beginning of a bruise. Once again he finds that he’s unable to look away from Kazuma’s body, looking at the aftermath of their activities, but part of him swells with pride that he was able to satisfy his partner.
“Don’t worry. I asked you to be rough with me.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“It’s fine. I really liked that, if it’s not already obvious,” Kazuma whispers, pulling him back a kiss – it feels sweet and playful, though if it lasted any longer... Barok makes himself pull away before he gets another erection.
“Let me get you a towel.”
“Would you mind telling me where the bathroom is?” Kazuma replies, “I like to take a shower after sex.”
“Ah… of course.” Barok points in the general direction of the door, “Go out the door and to the left. Everything you need should be in the closet.”
Kazuma gets up and leaves, leaving Barok in his room alone. He picks up some of the tissues that he always keeps in his room to clean himself up.
His mind plays back what happened tonight – he finished his work, then went out to dinner with someone he found on Tinder of all places; one thing led to another, and now he’s sitting here after what must be the among most intense sex he’s ever had.
What now? Kazuma would likely need to go home, surely he has other things to do. Barok’s mind is still hazy, but he can probably muster enough strength to drive? He remembers that tomorrow is Saturday, and he’ll be meeting for brunch with Iris and Herlock. Maybe it can wait till morning, there should be enough time if they wake up early…
All the thinking must have tired him out, because when Kazuma reappears ten minutes later, he finds Barok fast asleep.
Saturday, August 11
He wakes up the next morning to find himself alone in bed.
He’s not too sure himself whether or not Kazuma spent the night. The bed next to him feels cold, but if he buries his nose into the pillows, he can smell traces of Kazuma.
It’s nine in the morning, so it’s entirely possible for him to have woken up earlier and left.
…he’s not entirely sure what to make out of all this. The events of last night are a little hazy in his mind, but he remembers enough of it, and it makes him feel… angry, hurt, sad? His stomach is in knots and his head is heavy – what is this feeling?
As he steps out into the living room, his suit jacket and dress shirt are still on the couch, just more evidence that he did bring someone back here and had sex from them… but there’s no evidence of Kazuma’s presence anywhere.
…there’s not much time to think about it now. He needs to be at Baker Street in just an hour, so he starts to make himself some tea – no need for breakfast, since he’ll be having brunch soon. As he waits for the water to boil, he checks his phone’s notifications, as he always does, but today there are only three work emails waiting for him, and no messages, not even from Kazuma.
His thumb hovers over the Tinder square. It’s the only way for him to get in touch with Kazuma – perhaps he should see if Kazuma said something? But then the app would have notified him of a new message. Perhaps he could send a text, ask him if he made it home safe? Ask him why he didn’t wake him up before he left?
The water kettle turns off, and he finds that he can’t bring himself to even open the app, so he puts his phone away with a sigh.
Whatever, not that Barok needs an explanation. Kazuma is a stranger to begin with – he probably met up with Barok just to have fun, so he achieved what he set out to do. Barok for one can’t deny that he had a good time.
A piece of evidence appears when Barok enters his bathroom – a grey towel hanging on the hook behind the door. It definitely wasn’t his doing, since Barok usually hangs his towel up in the closet, so Kazuma must have put it there after his shower. He picks it up and throws it into the laundry basket without a second thought.
“Barry!”
Iris runs out the door as soon as she hears the sound of Barok’s car. A rare smile graces his face as she giddily jumps into his arms.
“How is my favorite princess doing this fine morning?”
“I’m doing great! I actually just finished brewing my latest special blend!”
“I simply can’t wait to taste it,” Barok replies as he picks Iris up in his arms, carrying her into the house. (Herlock has asked him to stop doing this, because it makes her expect him to pick her up too, and he has none of the upper body strength Barok possesses; but Barok simply doesn’t think it’s his problem.)
They get inside the house, where he gently puts her back down on the floor. True to her word, there’s a tea set sitting on the coffee table, neatly arranged amongst a bunch of cookies and candies.
“I assume your daddy is still asleep?”
“Yep, he stayed up pretty late last night,” Iris replies, “Do you want to wake him up?”
“Darling Iris, I would be happy to do it for you,” Barok agrees immediately – there can’t be a better opportunity for him to give Herlock a piece of his mind.
He enters Herlock’s room to find the detective fast asleep, his back to the wall. The sight of it makes Barok’s blood boil – how dare he sleep so peacefully after his horrible advice ruined Barok’s morning? He grabs the blanket and yanks it away, but Herlock simply grumbles.
“Iris…” He rolls around, “It’s too early for this, don’t you think?”
“Too early for what?”
Herlock’s eyes immediately shoot open as soon as he hears Barok speak, and upon confirming that it is indeed Barok in his room, he shuts them again, and starts to snore loudly.
“Wake up, Herlock Sholmes.”
“...zzz… hmm… shh…”
Barok sighs – while Herlock is definitely a clown, he’s starting to wonder if perhaps he is the bigger clown for listening to Herlock’s unhinged advice.
“I’m dreaming of a little blue rat… running around the attic…”
“...I had dinner with somebody yesterday.”
“Oh!” Herlock jolts up immediately, “That was quick, Barok! May I say, your game must be impeccable!”
“He slept with me and left this morning without a word.”
That subsequent statement surprised Herlock so much, he almost fell back dramatically on his bed – but Barok is quick enough to grab him by the collar of his T-shirt. Herlock chuckles nervously as Barok slowly pulls him back up, his blue eyes glaring daggers at Herlock.
“This is all your doing.”
“Hm… I’m afraid it does happen from time to time,” Herlock admits, “Surely you understand that humans are unpredictable.”
Barok hates to admit it, but Herlock is right about that – he and Kazuma are ultimately strangers who met exactly once, they barely know anything about each other. Perhaps it is his fault for getting attached so quickly.
“Don’t fret too much about it, my friend,” Herlock tries to console him, “There’s plenty of fish in the sea, you know! I’m sure you’ll find someone else.”
Barok drops Herlock back onto the bed, and turns around to walk to the window.
He can’t help but think how nice it would have been to wake up with Kazuma next to him – they could have breakfast together, and Barok would have driven him home after. Right now everything just feels somewhat awkward.
Herlock, perhaps sensing Barok’s melancholy, walks up to him and pats his back. He picks up his pipe and lights it – he tries to offer it to Barok, but Barok simply ignores him.
“I wish you told me earlier, dear Barok. I could have run a background check on him.”
“...it would be uncomfortable if you knew more about my date than I did, Sholmes.” Barok lets out a long sigh, “Either way, I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“Are you sure?”
Barok nods – now that he’s managed to get it off his chest, the weird feeling that he’s had all morning is starting to fade away.
“Iris is waiting for us,” he replies as he grabs the pipe out of Herlock’s hand. “Is that marijuana? At ten in the morning?”
“No…”
“And how many times have I asked you to go outside if you wanted a smoke, you degenerate? Iris is right outside, you’re setting a horrible example–”
Monday, August 13
“There you are, Barok.”
Barok nods towards the man who greeted him – an older prosecutor in a blue suit, with golden embroidery on his lapels. It’s strange to see him outside of his office – he must have been waiting for Barok to arrive.
“Good morning, Manfred. How was your weekend?”
“It was good, I suppose,” Manfred replies as he crosses his arms, “We took Fran shopping this weekend for her trip to Germany, but it’s so hard to shop for her.”
“I’m afraid to say you only have yourself to blame.” Barok shakes his head, “That girl has worn designer clothes all her life, has she not?”
“Yes, only the best for my dear daughter.”
“…don’t let Miles hear you say that.”
“Anyway, did you see the email Mael sent?”
Barok nods, “The email regarding the new intern? Yes, I saw it as I was leaving my house.”
“For how punctual he is, you would think he could tell us these things much earlier,” Manfred sighs “Anyway, Barok, will you do me the favor of supervising him?”
Barok furrows his brows at that suggestion.
“I’m planning to have Fran be my intern starting this summer,” Manfred explains, “Nothing is set in stone yet, since we are awaiting Mael’s approval, but I would like to keep that spot open for her.”
“I imagine this intern would like to be in your care,” Barok suggests, “After all, you are the Demon Prosecutor, who’s never lost a case in thirty years.”
“And you’re the Reaper, always prosecuting high-profile cases involving government officials and the like,” Manfred argues, “Any law student would sacrifice their firstborn to intern with you.”
“You flatter me, Manfred, but I don’t need an intern,” Barok insists.
“Mael tells me you always go home so late. You should probably use an assistant.”
“…when did you develop empathy, Manfred?”
“Please, Barok, Fran will kill me if she finds out someone else took her spot. Miles interned for me in the past, it would be unfair if she doesn’t get the same opportunity.”
“I understand your concern, my friend, but…”
Before any of them could say anything further, they hear the sound of the door opening, and they quickly turn around to look –
A young man with jet black hair enters the room; he’s wearing a crisp white shirt with a black vest and pants, carrying a leather laptop case with him.
Oh, no. Barok feels his heart drop to his stomach as he sees Kazuma walk into the room.
Kazuma seems equally surprised to see him, his eyes widening slightly as they recognize each other – but then he immediately notices Manfred, and switches back to his normal expression.
“Good morning! My name is Kazuma Asogi,” he introduces himself, “I believe this is the Chief Justice’s Office?”
“Yes, you must be the new intern!” Manfred immediately walks over to shake his hand, “How did you say your name again?”
“Kazuma Asogi. You can just call me Kazuma.”
“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Manfred von Karma,” He turns to look at Barok, “And this fellow right here will be your supervisor!”
Barok is frozen in place, his brain going into overdrive to understand what he is seeing right now. Kazuma, whom he saw on Tinder last week; the same one he took to dinner on Friday, and then took home and fucked; and Kazuma, the new intern in the Prosecutor’s office. They’re one and the same, really?
He’s looking up at Barok, eyes bright like the sun and his lips slightly parted – god, he’s so pretty, and that only serves to make Barok even angrier on this fine Monday morning. If he keeps looking at Kazuma’s face, he’s just going to remember all the depravity that happened last Friday.
Barok feels Manfred elbowing his arm, trying to get him to say something – he sighs as he turns to the older prosecutor.
“I never agreed to that proposal.”
“Please, Barok, you know how my dear Fran is,” Manfred whispers, “I will be in your debt forever if you do this for me. Please?”
“I must say I would rather deal with Franziska and her riding crop over this guy.”
“First of all, you wouldn’t even last an hour before you start trying to kill her. Second of all, think about it, we rarely accept interns here. For Mael to have accepted this guy, he must be extremely qualified.”
“I don’t doubt that, but I cannot work with him.”
“Why not?”
“Because he betrayed my trust last Friday by sleeping with me and then leaving without saying anything.”
…is what Barok would have said, but he’s not going to tell on himself. If word of that ever got out, Manfred is definitely going to see him in a different light.
He turns to look at Kazuma, who is just standing in place as he watches the two prosecutors argue in a hushed tone.
Everything Manfred has pointed out so far is true – they rarely accept interns here, so Kazuma must have something that makes him stand out among the others – but can Barok really handle working with Kazuma, who has brought him so much emotional distress in a matter of five days? He has only had the weekend to try to recover from it, and any time he spent by himself he was trying to drown his thoughts away with alcohol.
He sighs as he shakes his head – Manfred’s not going to back down, he knows that much. And if he thinks back to his conversation with Kazuma about law, the young man at least seems to have good morals.
“...fine. Know that you owe me for this.” He turns to Kazuma and extends his hand. “Barok van Zieks. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Kazuma firmly shakes his hand, “It’s an honour to be working for you, Barok.”
Hearing Kazuma say his name is making his mind race back to the twenty different ways Kazuma moaned his name. This could be troublesome...
“You will address me as Prosecutor van Zieks while you are working in this office. Is that clear?”