Title: Of Fire, Coffee, and Late Night Chats
Author: roankun
Pairing: Haibara Ai/Edogawa Conan
Fandom: Detective Conan
Themes: #1 Platonic love; #3 Late night conversation; #6 Promise; #11 A night in; #15 Comfortable silence; #30 Friends forever
Word Count: 5,641 words
Date started/finished: 31 December 2015 – 01 January 2016
Disclaimer: I do not own Detective Conan. This oneshot wasn't beta'd either, so all mistakes are an oversight on my part.

Of Fire, Coffee, and Late Night Chats
by roankun

A boy of about thirteen years of age sat on the carpeted floor, admiring the way the blaze cackled in the fireplace. Other than the occasional illumination from the moon, every now and then peeking out of clouds heavy with the beginnings of snow, the dancing flames were the only source of light.

Around him, a girl and two boys were sprawled around, covered in blankets, dozing off. Based on the occasional murmur that passed through their lips, he could almost guess what they were dreaming of: one, being saved by her prince charming on a skateboard; the other, torn in a love triangle with two of his childhood best friends; and the last, stuffing his face with Santa's early gift of a year's worth of unajuu. Torn between wanting to shake his head (Really, how presupposing could a bunch of teens be when it comes to romance?) and chuckle (Some things just never change, huh?), he settles on a content smile knowing that despite all the drawbacks he's gone through in his re-experienced childhood, quiet moments like these made him appreciate life all the more.

"Not sleepy yet?"

The knowing tone broke him from his reverie, and the faint smell of coffee tickled his senses. He looked over in the direction of the voice, and saw the young girl with strawberry blonde locks and eyes that were not quite turquoise offer him a cup. Accepting it with a small nod of gratitude, he took a small sip and was pleasantly surprised to find that it was just the way he liked it. Did he ever tell her how he takes his coffee? Ah well, sometimes she knew him better than he knew himself anyway.

"You know," he drawled, "Coffee won't exactly make me any sleepier."

Rolling her eyes at his obvious statement, she took her place beside him and took a sip from her own cup. Basking in the warmth that passed through her chest and her hands, she cupped both hands around the porcelain mug and sighed contentedly.

A comfortable silence enveloped them, and the only indication that time hadn't stopped was the occasional drowsy mumble and cackle of the firewood.

"Penny for your thoughts," the boy said, breaking the hush.

Shooting him a mild look of irritation as she turned her head to meet his eyes, she answered, "Really can't read the atmosphere, can you?"

"What?" He had a clueless look on his face, but his amused tone said otherwise.

"That was a 'No murders, no kidnappings, no bombings, no noisy children telling me to watch Kamen Yaiba, yes, life is good,' moment, and you just had to open your big mouth and ruin it."

He couldn't stop the chuckle that made its way out his throat. "They'll probably nag at you first thing tomorrow for not waking them up for the midnight movie marathon," he warned, referring to the eighth anniversary special of the children's TV series in question. The clock above the mantel told them it was a quarter to one, meaning the first movie had started about forty-five minutes ago, a good full hour after the trio had fallen asleep.

"Oh please," she retorted, "I'm sure their dreams are much more enjoyable than watching bad guys getting caught by some pervert in spandex."

He almost choked on his coffee. "Are you still not over that?" he spluttered, "They changed his costume back to the original after that one movie."

The only answer he got from her was a non-committal grunt. Shaking his head in exasperation, he checked the carpet for telltale brown stains. Once he was satisfied that the Professor's carpet was coffee-free, he looked up and noticed a plastic bag off to the side of the television. He couldn't keep the grin off his face as he made out the words through the polymer. Looks like a certain someone had rented out some DVD's as a fallback in case some kids fell asleep during the TV broadcast. Only two people that someone could be, and he was betting on the smaller, lighter, less honest one. Despite what she said, she still had a soft spot for those kids.

Before they lapsed into silence once again, a certain overweight boy who had eaten five cups of rice too many for dinner scratched his tummy and mumbled, "Can't eat anymore…"

The two stifled a laugh. "Guess you're right," he admitted, referring to her earlier statement. "I can't imagine just how much Genta had to eat to make him say that. Must be a pretty enjoyable dream, by his standards."

Just then, the other sleeping girl turned in her sleep and murmured, "Mmm… Conan-kun…"

"Ah, yes. Much, much more enjoyable, indeed," she teased, sending him a mischievous wink as his ears turned red.

"Baaro," he muttered, not knowing what else to say. Seriously, what is that girl dreaming of? He shuddered to think about it. He took a big gulp of coffee and tried to change the subject. "Well?" he prodded.

"Well what?"

"Your thoughts."

"I'll have you know my thoughts are worth more than a penny." Her tone was haughty, but the playful glint in her eyes told him that, maybe, she was enjoying this conversation more than she let on.

"Well," he shrugged, "Other than my awesomely good company, I don't really have much else to offer."

That earned him a snort from her – a very feminine snort, mind you. "And where, pray tell, does this baseless confidence come from?"

He made a short 'mmm' noise in his throat and cupped his chin, mimicking someone in thought. Before he could convincingly pull the act, he shrugged and sent her a smile — a genuine one. "Well, you've stuck with me through all these years, haven't you?"

Her head snapped in his direction as her eyes widened in surprise. He met her gaze squarely, and in that one short moment, it felt as if everything fell into place. The smirk previously on her lips gradually softened into a small smile as she turned her eyes back to the fireplace. Still, the teasing lilt in her voice wasn't lost on him as she bantered back, "Been stuck with, you mean. That, or I must've been a pretty bad judge of character."

"If that's up for debate, I vote for the latter," he joked. Then, as if realizing something, he sent her an incredulous look. "But I can't believe you'd actually insult yourself just to insult me."

"Priorities," she shrugged, and had the gall to look regal as she took a sip of her coffee.

The two found themselves in another comfortable silence. As the clock struck one, the boy gingerly put down his cup on the carpet and got up, making his way to the pile of firewood in the corner. Grabbing a few pieces, he threw them into the fireplace and watched as the flames engulfed the kindling, assuring him that the fire was good for another few hours.

Resettling on his earlier spot, he caught the distant look on the girl on his right and found himself wondering for the second time that night what she was thinking about. Realizing he'd have a better chance at taking a stab in the dark than making her say it, he ventured, "Can I take a guess?"

She narrowed her eyes at him and looked half-tempted to dump her remaining coffee on his face. "I don't know," she rolled her eyes at him, "Can you?"

"Make this any harder for me, can you?" he sighed.

"Believe me. Yes, I can."

"Ugh." He threw his hands up in exasperation. "And here I thought we were actually having a moment back there."

"Maybe we would have, if a certain someone only knew when to shut up."

"Whoa, someone's touchy today," he snidely remarked, "Are you on your period or something?"

Silence. Oops, did he say something wrong? He dared sneak a peek at the girl beside him, and barely caught the look on her face — a cross between disbelief and amusement — before she shook herself out of it and deadpanned, "You are the most tactless being on this planet."

Guess that was a yes, he concluded. He briefly considered his options (prostrating himself and begging for forgiveness, among others). An angry Haibara was not to be taken lightly. God only knows what an angry Haibara on her period could do. He, for one, didn't want to know, so he opened his mouth to apologize. "I—"

"And I am not, for your information," she cut him off before he could get another word out. "Why so curious anyway?" She put down her now-empty mug and hugged her knees to her chest, sending him an inquiring glance.

Relieved that she was, at the very least, not angry enough to put chili powder in his pants again, he sent her a boyish grin and said, "Is it so wrong to want to know more about my partner?"

She raised her eyebrow at him. "You only use that word when you want something from me."

"Really?" Geniunely surprised, he tried to remember when he used it last. He winced as he recalled the scene: two concurrent crimes had occurred and he couldn't exactly split his body in half to snoop around both. He had sent her to investigate the first (and typically safer) crime scene while he had gone to the other. Her help had proved very useful, yes, but he hated it when she was right about these things. "I'll make sure to use it more in casual conversation then," he teased, smiling apologetically.

"Oh, joy."

He looked down at his coffee mug, and noted that it was half-full. Or half-empty, she would argue. They had had a debate about that, long ago. He had initially chalked it up to her being the bigger pessimist between them two, but eventually conceded that, yes, she was right, it was half-empty if you were currently in the process of emptying it. Debate scores at the time: Her — 68, him — 32. And yes, he kept count.

Either way, coffee long gone cold wasn't exactly his cup of tea. He downed it all in one big gulp and, as if having mustered courage from the caffeine, he took a wild guess. "Is it about what we were talking about with the kids after dinner?"

"Mmm…" She had her eyes back on the fire again. "Warmer."

Progress, finally. He racked his brain, trying to remember the variety of topics they'd discussed after dinner. In the span of four hours, they'd talked about their past (mis)adventures, how much they miss the Detective Boys since its disbandment that spring as they entered their second year of junior high, Ayumi's upcoming volleyball match, Genta making the soccer team roster as a goalie, Mitsuhiko representing the computer club in a regional contest, the upcoming Kamen Yaiba movie marathon, Genta's unchanging love for unajuu, their plans (and insecurities) for the future… He decided to take another stab at it.

"Do you wish the Detective Boys never disbanded?"

"Colder, tantei-san." He felt, rather than saw, her shake her head. "I'm actually quite relieved that they've stopped actively looking for trouble; as if trouble doesn't find them often enough anyway."

Inwardly, he agreed with her. Even after breaking up, they'd still encounter the odd case every now and then, and a 'temporary comeback of the Detective Boys' would spring the children into action, snooping around and poking their noses where they don't belong. At least now, they had somehow learned to actually follow his instructions and avoid getting caught as hostages. Sometimes, he'd look back and feel just a liiittle bit touched and just a liiittle bit proud at how much they've matured over the years.

"Hmmm…" he muttered, lost in thought, his finger tracing the rim of his now-empty cup. He didn't think that an ex-pervert in spandex could actually elicit that faraway look from her, so Kamen Yaiba was a no-go from the start. Perhaps…

"I can't believe you actually want to be a bride 25 years from now. That wasn't just a ruse to get Ayumi off your back, was it?"

A pregnant pause. Then a soft chuckle. Did he actually get it right this time?

"And I can't believe you still want to be a detective when you grow up. Planning on opening up 'Kudo Detective Agency' or something?"

He couldn't help but snicker at her unspoken comparison. A little less than twenty-five years from now, he'd be around the same age as old man Kogoro was when he first shrunk. Though nobody had seemed to figure out the connection between him and Sleeping Kogoro, the latter had eventually left the spotlight and went back to the police force; his old appellation only ever mentioned in passing (though with a not so subtle hint of pride) in the rare reunion ever since.

"Edogawa Detective Agency, you mean," he corrected. Though his parents had made a big show of adopting him when 'Conan-chan's parents died in an accident' a few years ago, he had opted to keep his original alias than switch over to the Kudo surname. She had also stopped referring to him as 'Kudo-kun' since the day he told her that Kudo Shinichi had died that day in Tropical Land, but every now and then, old habits made themselves known. "And yeah, that sounds pretty nice, if you ask me."

"Ah, right." She nodded thoughtfully. "You're really set on spending the rest of your life as a detective? Haven't you ever thought of trying something else?"

"You ask that now?" he replied, amused.

She shrugged, mimicking his smirk perfectly. "Maybe a soccer athlete or something? Much as I hate to admit it, but if Higo-san recognizes your abilities, then you've got the skill."

He had to cover his mouth to contain what would have been a very loud laugh. The fact that she was a Higo fangirl was no secret, although the stubborn girl still wouldn't openly admit it. "I'm sure you want me to become one. Visiting an old friend… Quite a good excuse to come to the field and see Higo in action, eh?" His eyes twinkled mischievously.

Letting out a short 'hah!', she had on her trademark smirk, but she wasn't quite meeting his gaze when she said, "Yeah, right."

Very stubborn girl. And not very honest, either. Shaking his head in bemusement, he decided to let it slide. "Either way, he'd probably be retired in 25 years. Being an athlete isn't exactly a job you can keep up when you're not young and fit anymore." On impulse, he laid down on his back and rested his head on his hands. He had this unnatural urge to want to reach his hand out to… well, the unknown future maybe, and he was hoping that keeping his hands trapped behind his head would quell that urge. It wasn't quite like him to be so… poetic, perhaps, and he didn't really want her to make fun of him for that.

Sensing that he wasn't about to get a reply, he shot a glance in her direction and found her looking a bit… melancholic(?) as she kept her eyes set on the flames. Did the thought of Higo retiring really affect her that much? He hoped not. It was the natural cycle of life, after all, and she was supposed to be the more rational one between the two of them. "Besides," he continued, hoping to get her attention, "I enjoy soccer, yeah, but I only play it for the workout. Gotta keep myself fit for running after criminals, you know?"

"Ah, yes," she started, her voice laced with its usual sarcasm. He was actually quite relieved to hear it, much to his own surprise. "A soccer-fencing comparison, is it? Because I completely forgot you were a Holmes freak who had his life principles dictated by a fictional character."

And once again, she proved that she knew him better than he knew her. He wasn't even aware that she knew enough about Holmes to know he fenced for the sake of exercise, rather than enjoyment of the sport, though the latter was a very welcome byproduct. No, no, no. He wouldn't take the bait and lecture her on the legendary (albeit fictional) existence of Holmes. The easy tone in her voice told him she wasn't really insulting him or his childhood idol anyway, and from the looks of it, she knows enough about Holmes (and him) without needing to listen to his rant. Or rave, depending on which side you were on.

Which reminded him… This whole conversation started because he wanted to know what she was thinking about. This girl, she really had a way of changing topics (or making him change topics) without him quite realizing it. "So," he began, "Enough about me—"

"Le gasp!" She had her hand on her mouth, and her eyes were wide with mock shock. "Am I really hearing that from you? Someone pinch me; I must be dreaming!"

"Oh, knock it off."

She merely chuckled in response. The ensuing silence told him that she was waiting for what he had to say next.

"I thought you would've wanted to become a chemist or something."

"I already am a chemist."

"I mean, professionally—"

"Are you implying that I'm not professional?"

"Argh!" He scratched his head in frustration. "You know what I mean!"

"No, I'm afraid not, Edogawa-kun. Care to enlighten me?"

That mocking smirk, the telltale crinkle by her eyes, he knew them all too well. This woman… She's enjoying this.

Well, if he wanted answers, then he must be patient. He knew that in theory, but when faced with someone as infuriating as her, his patience always seemed to be drawn way too taut, about to snap any moment. Taking a deep breath, he tried a different approach.

"I just meant, I always thought you would get a job in the field of science. Get a career where you can excel. I'm sure that would help with funding your… interests." He eyed with disdain the Fusae ginkgo-patterned sweater she currently wore, the one she made him buy as payment for a favor that he now couldn't quite remember. Surely what he had asked of her wasn't worth a hundred thousand yen, right? Right?

…Oh, who was he kidding. There was no winning against her. All he could do was sigh in resignation.

"Well," she began, her tone serious, and it was all he could do to keep himself from wondering it was another ploy to pull his leg. She looked around them to make sure the other kids were sleeping soundly, and judging from the occasional mumbles of "Conan-kun…", "Haibara-san… Ayumi-chan…" and "unajuu…", yep, they were still in la-la-land.

"All my life, I've worked on APTX4869, and subsequently, its antidote. But now, the Organization's gone. Gin's dead. Vodka's dead. Even Vermouth is dead, and you'd have thought she'd live forever. But for some strange twist of fate, I'm still alive. And…" she trailed off hesitantly.

He merely listened. Moments like these when she actually bared her soul to him were few and far in between. And he meant it when he said he wanted to know more about her. It's been six, close to seven, years since they first met, and he wasn't the least bit close to solving the enigma that was Haibara Ai.

He knew who Miyano Shiho was. She was a lost soul. A lonely girl hidden under the façade of a genius. And she had died six years ago when her only remaining family was killed. He knew who she was, but he didn't know her.

He knew who Sherry was. She was the creator of the drug that shrunk him. The traitor, sought after by the Organization. And she had died almost six years ago when she took APTX4869 in that locked up little room above her laboratory. He knew who she was, but he didn't know her.

He knew who Haibara Ai was. And he knew her. Or at least, he thought he did. She's the one he always counted on to call in reinforcements when he got into trouble, the one who kept his wit sharp with her snide remarks, the one person who seemed to know him better than he knew himself. His friend, his confidante, his partner. But somehow, even those words didn't seem quite enough to describe his relationship with her.

He wanted to make sense of the puzzle, but he didn't have all the pieces.

She wouldn't give them to him.

And until she did, he would just wait patiently.

Because sometimes, she seemed like nothing more than a scared little girl, a child who would run away at the slightest provocation.

And he couldn't have that. He didn't think he could take it.

Because this was the one mystery he didn't want to leave unsolved.

He didn't know how long the silence lasted, but he wasn't the one to break it this time.

"I don't really know what to do with my life…"

As he processed those words, the girl sitting beside him suddenly seemed much smaller, and much, much more insecure than she once let on.

"I guess, I was thinking that that's how I would have ended up if I had had a normal childhood," she ended, a wry smile on her face, her eyes trained on the young girl a few feet from them, smiling contentedly as she hugged the pillow in her arms. "Pretty boring imagination, huh?"

He took that as a signal that the serious talk was over. Snickering, he sat up from his position on the carpet and replied, "You and the rest of the young female population, then. Not to stereotype or anything, but I'm pretty sure that's what almost every other girl under the age of thirteen wants to be."

"Doesn't it annoy you when someone says 'No offense meant', then follows it up with something that completely suggests otherwise?"

"Guilty as charged," he winced. "I'll keep that in mind."

The clock struck two, informing the pair that it was way past their bedtimes, no matter how old their mental age may be. As the boy opened his mouth to suggest that they call it a night, a certain sleepy mumble changed his mind.

"Mmm… Haibara-san…"

Enjoyable dreams, indeed. He scooted closer to the girl and playfully nudged her with his shoulder. "If anything, at least you've got someone willing to take you as his bride any day."

She raised an eyebrow at him in annoyance. "I'm twenty-four, Edogawa-kun."

"And physically fourteen," he grinned.

She raised the other eyebrow, then a knowing smile graced her lips. "Oh, I see how it is. You're making me think it's okay to for me hook up with someone who is ten years younger, so that when you can't contain your pedophilic tendencies anymore, I won't taunt you for doing to Yoshida-san what you are most likely doing to her in her dreams right now."

"Wh-What!? I don't have any pedophilic—"

Just then a mewl made itself heard from the direction of the sleeping girl. It was more like a moan really. Too incomprehensible to actually be a real word. Then another mewl. But this time, it sounded faintly similar to his name.

Heaven forbid, what was she dreaming of? Teenagers and their hormones. Now he really didn't want to be around when she woke up.

"Looks like someone's ready for you to awaken to your fetishes." She waggled her eyebrows scandalously. "You know what they say: Having a fetish is the first step to happiness."

"Oh god, please stop it." Now he didn't know what to do with his life.

She chuckled in amusement. Seemingly having had enough of that (he certainly did, enough to last him a lifetime, actually), Haibara reached out and tucked the blanket around the shoulders of the peaceful girl. Humming in contentment, Ayumi snuggled deeper into her pillow and mumbled a different name.

"Ai-chan…"

While Conan's eyes almost jumped from their sockets, Haibara merely smiled and brushed back the hair of the sleeping brunette. Pulling away, she sent a pointed (yet rather bemused) look at the boy who had made himself comfortable pressed up against the wall farthest from the rest of them. He wasn't quite sure how or when he got there either.

"I don't know what you're thinking, Edogawa-kun, but you'd better get your head out of the gutter. Contrary to what you might think, Yoshida-san hasn't quite reached that point in her life for… those kind of dreams." Shaking her head at him in mock disappointment, she berated him, "And here I thought watching those soap operas finally made you more educated on the workings of the female mind."

"Very funny, Haibara." Covered in cold sweat, he tugged clumsily on the collar of his shirt as he reluctantly trudged back to their spot near the fire, as if he was suffocating and wanted to make it easier to breathe. Since when had it gotten so hot in here? He never should have added that extra firewood earlier. "You know I don't appreciate those kind of jokes, so stop it, okay?"

His relationship was Ayumi was… awkward, to say the least. The girl's crush on him was no secret. Even Genta knew, and almost all Genta cared about was his unajuu. Sure, they had fun together with the rest of the Detective Boys, but when it comes to romance, he was as graceful as a fish out of water, that is to say, not at all. He knew (in theory) that he should reject her firmly and sincerely, but he really couldn't find the heart to do so, especially not when the girl hadn't explicitly proclaimed her love for him. He could just imagine it playing out — "I know you're in love with me, but I don't love you back." Oh god, he would've sounded like such a douchebag.

And other than the occasional longing glances sent his way and the quote-unquote obligatory chocolate on Valentine's, the girl didn't seem too keen to do anything about it, either. So he pretended not to notice. That was the easier choice, anyway.

At least, until the time comes that it comes back to bite him. For now, he hoped that was still a long ways away.

The answer he got for his plea was an evasive hum — neither a yes or a no. As she grabbed a loose blanket and draped it around her shoulders, he sat back down beside her and resigned himself to the fact (for the second time that day, and it's only been two hours!) that he just couldn't win against her.

He observed her silently as she played with a loose strand of her strawberry blonde hair, eventually tucking it behind her ear in one graceful motion. The flecks of green (or was it blue?) on her blue (or was it green?) eyes reflected the dancing flames from the fireplace. As he watched her fight back a yawn (it was already 2:30 anyway), a sudden thought invaded his mind. Yes, he might have been watching too many soap operas after all.

He had originally started that as a means to understand motives better. As interesting as mystery and detective stories were, they didn't quite make a good bedtime story. He figured that if he focused on the why rather than the how, he'd be able to better prevent crimes from happening. After all, an ending where no one dies is a happier ending, right? Not happy, per se, but happier in comparison.

And what better way to understand the workings of the human heart than to watch those visual media that seemed to focus solely on that? Of course, psychology textbooks might have been the more reliable option, but he had already read enough of those to last him a lifetime. And he knew, better than anyone else, that theory was not the same as application.

And lastly, well, he actually enjoyed watching soap operas. Not that he'd admit that, mind you.

"Well," he said, catching her mid-yawn, "if, er… 'hooking up' with someone who's my age physically makes me a pedophile…"

She shot him a disinterested look, a bit annoyed at the interruption to her trademark yawn.

"And if 'hooking up' with someone's who's my age mentally makes that person a pedophile…"

She waited for him to continue, but he only looked at her pointedly. "So what, Edogawa-kun? Stop dragging it out."

"Well, that doesn't really leave us much room for options, does it?"

As if starting to see where he was going with that, she couldn't quite stop the mocking tilt of the corner of her lips. "No…" she drawled, "I guess it doesn't."

"So…?"

Oh no, Edogawa-kun. You're not gonna make me say it, the teasing sparkle in her eyes told him. "Well," she said, "Give or take… twenty-six years, and a ten-year difference won't seem like such a big deal." She sighed, a drastic, almost whimsical change in tone. "It's funny really, but if we turn forty—"

"When," he interjected, with a degree of firmness that surprised both of them. He didn't want to entertain the idea that either of them wouldn't live to see that day.

"Okay," she conceded, "When we turn forty, it wouldn't really seem like such a scandal if we marry someone who's thirty or fifty. Compared to say, the difference between fourteen and twenty-four. Legal issues aside, that is news that will most likely make its way to the headlines of the least trustworthy tabloid on the market."

She has a point, he grudgingly admitted. Half-giving up on his eureka idea of reenacting one of the scenes from his favorite soap operas, he considered whether she was trying to strike up a serious conversation, or was honestly just trying to make him frustrated by avoiding what he was hinting at. He knew she knew what he was trying to do. She was watching with him when that scene came on. Giving her one last wary glare, he hesitantly ventured with the first line.

"Well, if we're both still single by the time we're forty…" He scooted a bit closer to her so their shoulders touched, just the barest of contact. "I guess I wouldn't mind taking you as my bride." His ears were burning from embarrassment. Seriously, how did those actors manage to say these cheesy lines with a straight face?

To his (pleasant) surprise, she actually leaned a little towards him, firmly resting her shoulder on his. A pregnant pause followed before she finally spoke.

"Is this the part where I say, 'Why would I wait 26 years, when I already know I want to be with you now?'"

"Argh! I wanted to say that!" he complained. "And what's with that unnecessary lead-in!?"

"Hush, Edogawa-kun. You're whining." That knowing smirk, the telltale crinkle by her eyes… Oh yes, she was enjoying toying with him.

"I hate you," he muttered, yet not giving any indication of moving away.

"I love you, too."

He sent her the most toxic glare he could muster, and was awarded with that teasing, mocking, infuriating smirk as she met his eyes.

"Alright, alright." Making a big show of it, she reached for his hand and entwined their pinkies together. "To keep poor, little Conan-kun from throwing a fit, I guess I'll take you up on that promise. Happy now?"

He could barely form a coherent word, much less string a sentence together. When he finally managed to start functioning with some semblance of a normal human being, he snatched his hand away as if burned, stammering, "B-Baaro, o-only kids do that!"

"You are a kid," she reminded him, sending a pointed look at his not quite five-feet body. He was taller than her by now, but not by a lot.

"So are you!" he shot back hotly.

"My point exactly," she smirked.

And only then did it occur to him that he was caught in another of her shrewd traps. Facepalming, he once again admitted to himself that, nope, there was just no winning against this woman. Freeing himself from the pose of self-pity and exasperation, he looked up to see the undeniable sparkle of amusement in this girl's eyes, the same girl he had once thought wore a permanent expressionless mask. Perhaps, her amusement was contagious, as he couldn't stop the grin from breaking out on his face. And maybe, just maybe, this… thing between them, whatever it was, wasn't such a bad thing, after all.

Now very much awake, and sleep the last thing on his mind, he looked toward their mugs, which, he wasn't quite sure how, but had somehow ended up side by side, their handles touching, just the barest of contact. "I'll go get us a refill?" he half-asked, already reaching for them. As his fingers closed around the handles, he heard her chuckle.

"You don't even know how I take my coffee, Edogawa-kun."

He blinked at her.

She blinked back.

And he realized that no, he does not.

"I don't suppose you'll make this easy for me and tell me how," he grumbled, bringing the cups close and getting up.

"I think," she drawled, "I'd much rather suffer through your terrible concoctions than make life easy for you."

That earned her a smile from him. "Oh, yeah? Just wait 'til you taste this one!" he challenged, making his way to the kitchen counter.

Yes, maybe he didn't know her as much as she knew him. He didn't even know how she likes her coffee. But well, maybe that's okay.

After all, he had the next 26 years to figure it out.

-end-

Note: The Higo-san comment is a reference to movie 16 and its corresponding magic file, where Higo recognizes Shinichi's skill and asks him to sign up for the team. (He also rubbed Conan on the head, which I'm sure, Haibara was very jealous of). The soap opera comment is a reference to my previous fic, Soap Operas. Oh god, how I shudder to re-read that. Horrible writing, and extremely OOC. And no, this is not on the same universe as that. And the soap opera line was actually from a visual novel instead. Shoot me.

Note 2: This actually loosely fits with Hikari-chan's "September Summers" universe, pre-Natsubori, except Conan still calls Haibara 'Haibara'. That is the one habit I cannot rid myself of. Still, I am a complete fanboy of Hikari-chan, and "500 Days Without You" is like, my CoAi bible. If you haven't read it already, read it now. If you have, read it again. I feel like I subconsciously put in some lines from those fics. They're like, a part of how I see Conan and Haibara now. I didn't do it on purpose, I swear. And I think a line or two also might have come from AnnieAltman88's "Mondays are for moving on." I was reading that when I got stuck somewhere in between. Forgive me, Hikari-chan, Annie :'(

Thoughts: This was actually just supposed to be less than a thousand words, centered around the marriage banter for theme #6 Promise. Then I thought, oh god, how will I lead up to that, and it turned into this enormous fic that is five times what I originally planned. I made this kinda in one sitting, but the thoughts might jump every now and then as proof of how small and flighty my attention span is. Since the theme came from 30 Friends, this was originally meant to be platonic, but… I can't help it. The there-if-you-squint romance (or maybe you don't have to) is just… there. And yes, I've always found something romantic in the he-she narration, very rarely mentioning names.

Inspired by a lot of things, but mostly by Conan and Haibara's talk CD from Sega for the 20th anniversary of the series, and the part about her being a bride came from Hayashibara Megumi (Haibara's voice actor). Someone, please listen to it so we can hngh together. Hope you enjoyed this, nonetheless. If you did (or didn't, either one works), please leave a review and if you don't mind, tell me which part you specifically liked so we can hngh together (again) XD. I don't think I'll actually start writing actively again, but I'm gonna leave this one open for possible future oneshots. You never know when inspiration might hit, after all. 'Til next time! Happy new year!