FOR MOMO, MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM YOUR SECRET SANTA!

Shiho Miyano doesn't believe in soulmates. (4 times and 1)

1. Family

Shiho Miyano doesn't believe in soulmates. Some days she finds it hard to believe in Family, let alone something as vague and non-descript as romance.

She stares at the phone in her hand. The characters on the screen blur and wobble. Shiho drops the phone to her desk and presses a hand to her forehead. She forces herself to breathe. Her hand reaches for the mug of coffee next to her monitor. It's stone cold. She drinks it anyway.

Once the fatigue passes, she looks at the text message again. The yelling of some drunk in the street below filters through the window. She ignores it, her eyes taking the time to analyse the text properly this time.

It's short. It's from her sister. It's an end bracket, colon and opening parenthesis, an old school emoji. Shiho sighs. She must have noticed that the light was on. Shiho's twenty-one for goodness sake. Can't Akemi just let it slide?

Work has been a constant, gnawing pressure. Her boss keeps pushing her to meet completely unreasonable deadlines. Her experiments keep producing unexpected results that, while exciting, take more time than she should allow to interpret. She comes home exhausted, too tired to even look at the latest issue of her magazine subscription that's been sitting on her coffee table for a month.

Her sister keeps telling her she needs a break. She knows how late Shiho ends up working most of the time. Shiho did promise to do no more shifts into the early am this week. Shiho clearly lied, and Akemi, who is staying with her boyfriend in the hotel opposite on a short trip back from America, is calling her out on it.

Shiho thinks of going home to her empty flat, to her magazine and an evening of sitcom reruns. They'll probably be full of Soulmate wishy washy nonsense. That same nonsense that had her sister crossing the Atlantic to be with her supposed soulmate over two years ago.

Still, she thinks, as she jams her keys into the building door to lock up, sometimes it is nice to daydream of having someone she could vent to – someone who'd welcome her home with a cup of creamy hot chocolate, who'd rub her sore shoulders and kiss the frown off her face.

Instead, on the rare occasions where she does get to see the one remaining member of her family, she has to listen to Akemi evangelising about how she needs to get out more, go out into the world and find her soulmate, just like she did.

Like Shiho would ever trust someone simply for having sparkles in their eyes.

Soulmates definitely can't exist, Shiho decides.

Still, as she walks down the street to the empty two-bed flat she rents, she finds she can't bring herself to be alone, no matter how bone-tired she is.

She checks the time, looks around the corner. There's a bar nearby, a café that doubles as a late-night club. It's noisy and crowded, and right now... It's what she needs.

She doesn't believe in soulmates. Doesn't mean she can't have some fun.

2. Snow.

Poirot's becomes a familiar haunt now, after she pulls a late shift and can't bear the thought of her empty home. The staff start to recognise her now, and she knows their names. Amuro works late on Wednesdays and Thursdays, and alongside miss Azusa on Fridays and Saturdays. She likes seeing the two working together, the tender banter and seemingly seamless ability to understand each other in amongst the riotous racket of a drunken Tokyo crowd at two in the morning.

It's getting colder outside. Frost coats the streets, and Shiho won't be surprised if it starts snowing when she saunters home in an hour or so. Amuro only needs a nod from her to prepare her usual. She grasps the glass with a smirk and eager fingers. The amber liquid glides down her throat with a warmth she appreciates. The waiter's eyes go wide.

"Tough day?" He asks, leaning forward to grasp the swiftly emptied glass. He holds it up and tilts his head. She nods, and he pours her a fresh one.

"Tough day," Shiho confirms, as she's handed the fresh glass. She doesn't care to elaborate, taking a much more reasonable sip of the sherry. She leans back and looks around the café. She doesn't think any of other punters could relate.

"Well, I'm sure we can help take the edge off," Amuro says. He slides a bowl of snacks towards her and moves off to serve the next customer. She knows he won't be putting it on her tab and smiles. She hasn't had dinner, barely had time for a small sandwich at lunch. The snacks are very welcome.

As she nibbles away at the rice and seaweed crisps, she partakes in her now usual hobby. People watching helps her to remember that her world isn't limited to small white mice in cages and cagey men in black suits. She especially wants to forget her boss's favourite micro manager, a man named Jin Kurosawa, who has no business in a chemistry lab. She quickly turns her gaze away from a tall woman with long bleached locks and a turtleneck jumper. She doesn't want to dwell on how she wants to strangle that man.

Shiho's gaze softens as she takes in a couple sat at a corner booth. The girl reminds her of her sister, all gentle smiles and dark silky hair. She's seen her around a couple of times, usually barging in to drag home a very drunk father. Shiho knows she has an iron will and a surprising amount of strength. It's nice to see her relaxed, clasping hands with a young man also around their age.

"Aren't they cute?" It's Azusa, Shiho notices out of the corner of her eye. The waitress is leaning on the bar beside her, enjoying a lull in the demand for fresh beverages. Shiho hums an agreement, indulging her. Azusa's a pleasant sort of gossip, indulging in fantasies of romance among her clients and a font of knowledge about her regulars. "Ran-chan there, she's Detective Mouri's daughter. You remember, from the agency upstairs? She's studying literature at Todai. Her dad's always bragging about how well she is doing there."

"And the young man?" Shiho asks. The man is slender, with a boyish youth to his features that makes him look quite effeminate with his choice of hair style and glasses. His face looks familiar, though Shiho is certain she hasn't seen him before. He listens to Ran with rapt attention, sometimes responding with quiet words and swift hand gestures that make the young woman laugh and glow. Shiho doesn't need to hear their conversation to know that beneath his soft appearance lies a man with a sharp mind and wit.

"That's Hondou. Those two will often drop by for lunch. He's a fellow student, studying journalism. He looks a lot like his sister, don't you think? Rena Mizunashi, the newscaster on the Sunday Night News?" Azusa whispers this as though it is a great secret, which Shiho supposes it is.

"You're right!" Shiho grins, finally able to see the resemblance properly. "Fancy that."

The noise of a throat clearing itself interrupts the two, much to Shiho's annoyance. She turns to glare at the man beside them, as Azusa frets and goes to take his order. He's tall and well dressed in a blue suit. The only concession to the weather outside seems to be the scarf around his neck and beanie pulled down over his ears. Shiho notes with annoyance that he's wearing shaded glasses. It reminds her of Kurosawa's goon, always going around, wearing sunglasses indoors. He quickly pays for his order, a brandy with soda, and turns his gaze to the same table Shiho has been watching. She can glimpse the hint of a frown on his face, the downturn of his lips a clear indicator of disapproval.

Shiho sighs, feeling growing irritation at the man unwittingly crowding her at the bar.
"If you want a seat, there's one over there," she points, to the opposite side of the café-bar, at a long bench next to a rowdy stag do.

The man startles, glances at her face and stills. If he hadn't just ordered a drink in fluent Japanese next to her, she would have thought he couldn't understand her.
"Cat got your tongue?" She quips, taking a sip from her glass.

"No." He replies. He bows his head and leaves. Rather than take the suggested seat by the revellers, he heads to lean against the front window. Shiho pays him little heed.

Azusa and Amuro are again subsumed by a wave of customer orders, but Shiho doesn't mind. She indulges in another Sherry, keeps on with her people watching. There's the woman with the furs again, who regularly hangs off the arm of several of the older men, including the detective from upstairs. There's the trio in suits who she's been told are police detectives, the tall lanky one often blushing as he sneaks a shy look at the woman beating their friend in an arm contest. The stag do isn't much to shout home about, bottom rung office workers with poor taste and harsh tongues. Her eyes are often drawn back to the sweet couple at the booth. She catches the moment where Hondou leans forward to peck at Ran's cheek. It makes her feel warm inside, but also lonely. It's probably time she heads home, to be honest.

With a pleasant buzz through her system, and only a slight wobble as she gets off her barstool, she pays the bill. Her eyes venture over to the rude man in the shades at the window. She frowns. His reflection, she's sure... Is he? The man turns away, but Shiho knows he's been watching her.

"That man, by the window with the shades," she asks, when Amuro returns from tallying up her tab, "who is he?"

The waiter pauses, casually glancing that way as he takes her cash and opens the register. He chuckles.
"Oh, him? He doesn't want to be recognised, but he's a young detective who sometimes makes the papers." Amuro hands over her change with a nod. "He's a childhood friend of Ran Mouri. He sometimes drops by when he wants a break from his cases."

"Hmm..." Shiho hums. That explains his interest in the couple at the small table.

Amuro smiles as he crosses his arms. "I'm pretty sure he's single, if you're interested." He throws in a wink for good measure.

Affronted, Shiho splutters and pulls on her coat. She stomps out of the café in a small huff, her office shoes immediately getting soaked as she finds out that yes, it snowed dramatically since she nipped into the café-bar. The white covering the ground reaches her ankles, with more flakes fluttering down from the sky.

Once she's at the corner of the street, she looks back. How dare Amuro presume her interest in the man to be so base? And yet... She turns her gaze towards the dark glass windows of her flat. She pictures the look of the man in the shades as he watched her in the window's reflection. Serious, curious maybe?

Shiho doesn't believe in soulmates. She knows her work life doesn't leave much room for romance... But would it really hurt to consider...

No. She rolls her eyes and unlocks her door. Clearly, she's indulged too much if she's even entertaining the thought.

The snow continues falling, creating a soft glow through her blinds as she collapses in bed. The vision of the man in the suit stood at the window of Café Poirot as the snow falls follows her to sleep.

3. Mistake

It takes the visit of a manager from her company's American branch to prompt her to make what is, most certainly, the biggest mistake of her life.

Miss Vineyard is the face of the Kuroo pharmacology firm, putting her actress skills to use in convincing people far and wide that the eye-gouging prices they charged for life saving drugs were somehow acceptable. When she isn't doing promotional videos or sweet-talking important decision makers, the woman inspects the business on the boss's orders and, inevitably, stirs up trouble wherever she goes. Shiho hasn't had the pleasure before, but she heard of the woman's reputation. Now she certainly hopes never to see her again.

Shiho's boots stomp heavily in the thick slush and snow between her work and Poirot's. It's earlier than her usual, prompting Amuro to look up startled at her brash entrance. She doesn't care. She stops him as he reaches for the Sherry. Tonight, she'll try brandy.

If Azusa were on, she would no doubt be needling Shiho about her day. The kind waitress is never one to let someone stew in misery. Thankfully, Amuro is on his own tonight, and he has much more respect for people's needs. He will never ask Shiho to explain if she doesn't want to.

Which is great. Shiho doesn't want to speak of Chris Vineyard's taunts. She doesn't want to mention her line manager's strange reaction to the American's glib remarks. Shiho won't acknowledge the uncomfortable moment after the foreign woman left her lab. The moment where Jin Kurosawa whirled around and cornered her against the wall. His terse quietness in front of the actress turned to something simmering, unrecognisable... Not until he...

Shiho doesn't remember the words he said. She only remembers the plummeting feeling in her gut, as their intent sunk in. She remembers her skin crawling as she sees him lean towards her. She knows now what the cold fire in his gaze was, the taught energy in his hands... It was all lust.

The alcohol burns as it slides down her throat. The taste is more bitter than she is used to, but it suits her mood. All these weeks of daydreaming of finding someone nice, someone who would want to be with her, and then that? She'd never been so repulsed in her life. She delivered no sarcastic rebuttal. She stared in shock as he leaned in further. It is only as she felt his hand graze her hip that she'd snapped out of her shock.

"Another!" Shiho says, pushing her empty glass towards the waiter. Amuro grimaces but complies, before moving to the other end of the bar. He doesn't even offer snacks this time, which is fine. Shiho would fling them at the wall, with the mood she's in.

She turns to the rest of the café-bar, glaring at how empty it is. That drunk detective is there, scowling at his coffee. An aged couple is sharing a bottle of wine in the booth, their words slurring as they giggle. That's it. Shiho grinds her teeth and twists to face the window. What did she expect, at ten pm on a Wednesday? She watches the snow start to fall again outside. The flakes dance in and out of the streetlights, forming patterns that are a welcome distraction from the memory of the back of her hand colliding with her line manager's face. Shiho took that as her cue to leave. Screw her job.

Soulmates don't exist, she reminds herself.

And if ever Kurosawa had a soulmate, he probably smothered them in their sleep. She frowns. Her glass needs refilling again.

When she returns to the bar, she notices that another customer is there. It's not hard to recognise him. He's wearing the same blue suit, the same Tokyo Spirits hat and scarf, and still those daft shades. What really annoys her though, is catching herself enjoying the rumble of his voice, her gaze following the line of his legs, wondering if... She's maybe a touch too forceful when she gestures with her glass towards the bottle of brandy being poured.

"Same for me, please!" Her glass thuds loudly on the counter. Amuro startles. Some alcohol is spilt on the counter. The young man in front of him raises his hand and gestures to the bottle.

"How about I just buy a bottle for the two of us?" He raises his brow, angles his head at her.

"Whatever!" She huffs. The man nods and Amuro sighs. The stranger in the suit slides over to the stool next to hers and refills her glass.

"So... You look like your day was about as shit as mine?"

Shiho doesn't really want conversation, but she's not going to give him the silent treatment when he's paying for her drink.
"Try me." She says tersely.

The man hums, rocking back and forth in his seat with his hands in his pockets.
"Let's see... How about I made an amateur error this morning while working this case, directly leading to my best friend getting shot by a murderer who then managed to get away because I tripped, all while this paparazzi who's set on ruining my hard-earned reputation is filming everything? How does that sound for a shitty day?" He growls, his hand reaching for his brandy. No soda this time, Shiho notices.

"Is your friend alright?" She asks quietly. As far as shitty days go, it did sound dreadful. Now she feels awful. She forces herself to turn and look him in the darn shade covered eyes.

He pauses, clearly taken aback as he returns her gaze. His cheeks are still rosy from the cold, she thinks, unless the alcohol is already going to his head. She notices the shape of his cheekbones, the distinctive curve of his nose. She feels as though she ought to know what his face looks like without those awful glasses.

"Fine, considering..." He mumbles. "He's not going to be doing any kendo for a couple of months, but thankfully it was only a graze on his non-dominant upper arm. Gave me the scare of my life though." Another sip from his drink, he looks thoughtful. "How about your day?"

"Ugh, where to begin..." Though the bulk of her ire stems from Kurosawa's unwanted advances and Vineyard's constant innuendos, her day had been a litany of annoyances from the moment she got up. From her coffee spilling all over her favourite outfit before she'd even set foot out the door to the mice all escaping from their cages, it felt good to vent.

The man was a surprisingly good listener, attentive, quiet... He'd ask sharp, astute questions, didn't need simple things explained, knew exactly what to ask to keep the story on track while gaining information he lacked. When she started ranting about her assistant, Saburo Uokka, guffawing at Chris Vineyard's dirty jokes as tests were ruined by his shaking hands, she felt like she was talking to an old friend.

When he made some dark, cruel remark about where one could shove Jin Kurosawa, she laughed. He smiled, seeing her finally relax. He poured them both a fresh drink.

"So, I've figured out that you're a lead chemist at Kuroo Pharmaceuticals, that you work insane hours for admittedly a lot of money, and that you've studied in America, but... I don't think I caught your name... Miss?"

Shiho chuckles darkly, pointing at his glasses.
"I'm not the one wearing sunglasses and a beanie indoors, mister Incognito." She takes another small sip of the brandy. Her cheeks feel warm. She smirks in challenge. "Take them off, and then we can talk names."

He sighs dramatically, glancing around the café with cautious eyes. He pulls his scarf tighter around his neck. Poirot's has gotten busier since the two started their conversation, Amuro working hard to deal with the evening rush. The man in the blue suit looks wary but pulls off his hat. He reaches for his glasses, his gaze fixed on the counter. Shiho is leaning against it, expectant, waiting to see his face properly...

"Oh my god! You're Shinichi Kudo, aren't you?!" A shrill voice intrudes on their space. A group of three young woman, mere girls if Shiho is to judge by the length of their miniskirts, push up next to the man in the sunglasses. He balks, his glasses shoved right back onto his nose and his hand grasping his hat tightly. Shinichi Kudo, as the girls called him, makes some apologetic gestures and hurriedly pushes past them. Shiho watches, amused, as he sprints to the bathroom. She laughs at the girls crowding around the door, waiting for him to return. They speak excitedly of autographs and how handsome he is. They argue about who saw him first. Shiho shakes her head.

Shinichi Kudo, huh? She's heard the name. A detective, yes, but not employed as a policeman. A consultant, if she remembers correctly. He was involved when Kuroo Pharmaceuticals were under investigation last year... Someone tried to implicate them in what turned out to be a rather gruesome murderous spree. She remembers reading an article about it, marvelling at the photography that gave even his grin sparkles. It'd implied that the young private investigator had been rather well versed in the chemical processes used by the firm. She'd been impressed.

Well, that is one mystery solved. Shame he's probably left out back via the fire exit. He won't be returning anytime soon. At least he left the bottle for her to enjoy, though she feels like she's had enough brandy for now. Probably time to call it a night.

She's putting her coat back on when the phone behind the bar rings. A haggard Amuro answers, before chuckling and handing her the phone.
"It's for you."

Curious she answers.
"Yes?"

"So now you know my name," his voice sounds more tinny through the handset, the chatter of the bar forcing her to push her ear right against the speaker to hear. "How about you text me yours?"

She can hear the smile in his voice. A challenge. Of course, an eye for an eye. She could respect that.
"How can I text it to you when I don't have your number?" She says, knowing full well what he's away to say next.

"Well how about you tell me yours, and I can text you mine, miss...?"

"Miyano," she sighs. She's going to regret this she knows. She rattles off her phone number, rolling her eyes as he tells her to stay on the phone a moment. Her mobile vibrates in her purse. It's a text message. She smiles.

Thank you for helping make my day less shitty!
- Shinichi Kudo.

She fires back a quick reply.

You're welcome.
- Shiho Miyano.

"Thanks." He says on the phoneline. "Talk to you again soon!"

Shiho Miyano doesn't believe in Soulmates.

Now she finds she doesn't mind.

4. Banging.

They start texting each other at random times of the day and night. It's stupid, and competitive, and she knows that she should just ignore him... But it's nice. He gets her humour, makes her smile. He somehow knows the best times to message her and when to leave her alone. His small messages are what get her through the next week of awkward glares from her line manager, the crude names her lab assistant calls her when he thinks she isn't listening...

She considers filing a complaint, investigates it on Shinichi's advice. The harassment at work section of her employment contract isn't worth the paper it's printed on. It's obvious that her best course of action, if she wants to avoid the possibility of being stuck in the lab with the man, is to find another job. She can only cut her days short for so long before the boss starts to notice the decline in her productivity.

She and Shinichi meet up at Poirot's again. It becomes a regular opportunity to vent in person, to distract themselves over a drink, a meal. They swap the brandy for softer wines, leave their glasses full on the table to go for short walks across sparkling parks when the bar gets too rowdy, stay for the Saturday night quiz when they need the distraction. Shinichi introduces her to Ran Mouri and Eisuke Hondou. A girl called Sonoko Suzuki joins them once or twice. Shiho finds herself chatting with them if they're there and Shinichi's not. She'd forgotten what it was like to have a circle of friends. It's nice.

Her sister calls once a week. She comments on how much happier Shiho sounds.
"Have you finally found the one?" Akemi asks, sounding far too excited for someone getting up in the early hours of the morning just to make a phone call.

"No, sis..." Shiho replies. "I've just made some new friends."

She doesn't mention that she's kissed one of them. It was under the moonlight, overlooking the harbour as the city sparkled across the bay. She doesn't mention that she still hasn't seen him without his glasses on. Every time he tries to take them off in front of her, they're interrupted by one of his fans or some paparazzi, much to his growing frustration. She always laughs it off.

She doesn't believe in soulmates. She doesn't want him to look at her with expectant eyes, waiting for her to comment on some sparkling something that she knows she won't see in his gaze.

"Oh hey, you still looking for a new job, aren't you?" Akemi asks, breaking Shiho's train of thought.

"Yes, why?" Shiho asks, curious as to what Akemi might suggest. She'd looked at moving to the States previously, when Akemi had first moved, and Shiho had just started working for Kuroo Pharmaceuticals. Her employers had made it clear they wouldn't consider transferring her there, and her contract pretty much stopped her from considering employment with any of their competitors. A nuisance, since it ruled out the only roles that could've allowed her a visa. Not that she would consider move to the States now...

The mere thought has her stomach twisting in knots.

"Well, I was just thinking... You're still in that two-bed, right?" Akemi's voice is soothing. Shiho sometimes misses those short few months where she'd hear it from across the hall. The downside of growing up apart, in far flung boarding schools on the money their deceased parents had set aside for them. Akemi continues, her voice taking on a bittersweet tone. "I know you wanted to keep that room free for when I come back to visit, but... Well, I don't see myself coming to Japan without Shuu and you made it pretty clear that if he's with me, we're staying in the hotel."

Shiho lets out a sardonic chuckle. "Sorry that I don't care much for the sound of you two banging at one in the morning."

"That was one time!" Akemi's flustered response has Shiho smiling. The two hadn't expected her back that night, an impromptu work assignment calling her away, only to be cancelled at the last minute. Akemi knows Shiho is never going to let her live it down. "Anyway... How about you find someone to share the rent with you? That might enable you to consider lower earning jobs. And since you seem to be making friends now...!"

Shiho blushes at the pride in Akemi's tone, tries not to let herself be too riled by the teasing nature of the remark.

"I'll think about it." She says.

She thinks about it for a week. Then Jin Kurosawa makes some comment that has shivers running up and down her spine when the boys at work are discussing the next work night out. She knows then and there that she needs out.

Do you know anyone looking for a place to stay?
- Shiho Miyano

Wdym?
- Shinichi Kudo

He must be in the middle of a difficult case, she thinks, seeing him use an abbreviation. She shouldn't bother him. Still, the urgency of her feelings has her sending a reply instantly.

My flat has a spare room. I'm going to need help paying the rent.
- Shiho Miyano

She sits in the corner of a darkened storeroom. There's a pipe hissing by her head. She watches as the message reads sent, then read. She doesn't expect him to reply as instantly as he does.

Can we talk? I'll phone in 5 min if yes.
- Shinichi Kudo.

Yes, she replies instantly, fighting the urge to cry. Suddenly everything feels too much. It's only lunchtime. She can't bear the thought of going back to work. The room feels like it is closing in on her. She needs out. She needs fresh air.

The backdoor bangs shut as she leaves the building. She doesn't look back.

&1. Sparkling eyes.

He phones only to hear her in tears. She hates that his voice turns gentle. She hates that she needs it.

"Where are you right now?" He asks. She thinks she hears a door slam on his end.

She looks around. She's on the corner from Poirot's. She considers going there, but immediately shuts that thought down. The place may have felt more like home than her own flat these past few months, it was still too public, too crowded for the ugly sobs she's gasping out.

She tells him her address, sits in the stairwell. She wishes the snow were still around. Anything to brighten her world... But no, it's just the dreary grey puddles of early spring. The dark haze of pollution and the noise of commuters and workmen clashing around her.

She hears rubber slapping tarmac but pays it little mind. She's focused on her breathing, desperate to stop the flow of her tears. He'll be here any minute now. It's not until she feels his hands on her shoulders that she realizes he already is.

"Hey, I've got you." She looks up at the sound of his voice. He looks dishevelled. No sign of his hat or scarf. His tie is loose. There's a dark smudge on his cheek. She can't tear her eyes off him. He's not wearing his shades.

"What happened?" He asks, stroking her hair back from her face, tilting her chin up further. He looks her up and down. He's wasting his time, she thinks. There's no injury, no tear for him to fret about. Nothing but a scientist who's reached the end of her tether. Burnout, she thinks.

"I... I...!" She can't get the words out. She's still out of breath, even though she's not the one who sprinted two, maybe three blocks to get here.

He hushes her.
"This your flat?" He points up the stairs to the single door. "Let's get you inside. I'll make you a mocha."

She lets him help her up. He wraps a protective arm around her as they climb the stairs together. She fumbles with her keys and he turns the handle.

"Ran was asking after you," he says, trying for normalcy. "She and Eisuke have finally gotten engaged. They want you to come to the official announcement."

He potters around, finding her coffee pods, her mugs. She sits on the sofa in the open plan living area and watches and listens as he talks about his father's latest novel, the weather, this cute dog he saw that morning. His jacket lies across her shoulders, a warm and comforting weight as he hands her a cup. He crouches in front of her and smiles.

"Are you feeling better now?" He asks.

She stares. His eyes, she finally notices, are distracting. She doesn't know how she failed to notice it before. It's like there are galaxies colliding, rotating, in the dark blue of his irises.

Soulmates exist, she realises. But it's not the sparkles in his eyes that tell her that. It's the way his hand gently curves around her arm. It's the way he smiles at her, a smile she never sees aimed at his friends. It's evident in the fact that he dropped whatever he was doing the moment he heard her struggling. It's clear as day in the way her heart thuds and her lips tingle as she leans forward.

"Much better," she pauses, her lips millimetres from his own, until he grasps her intent and leans into the kiss. It's chase, but it feels like fireworks, spreading warmth throughout her soul. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he says smugly. Shiho swats at Shinichi's head and smiles. He laughs and tackles her in a hug. A giggle betrays her joy.

"So what happened?" He asks, rubbing at her shoulders as she sips at her drink. She's sprawled over his lap, his hand across her knees. There's no escape, but she doesn't want to leave.

"Kurosawa was being a dick." She says plainly. "I'm done. I don't care about my pay! I'm not setting foot in that building again."

"I'm surprised you lasted that long, honestly." Shinichi frowns, looks her in the eyes. She still can't get over seeing him without the shades. "Say, about renting out your spare bedroom..."

She doesn't really want to think about that just now. She's still recovering from whatever emotional breakdown she started experiencing when she texted him about that. Still, he did ask for an explanation...

"Yes." She says, bracing herself for his next question. Her mug is cradled in her hands, warm and sweet smelling. His hands on her back and legs provide a loose but welcome pressure. The smell of his jacket on her shoulders is soothing. The heat of him beneath her is even more so.

"Would... Could I..." She tilts her face up to watch his. His cheeks are beet red. He's stammering. How odd. He takes a deep breath. "Look. I might be interested. Mom and Dad are finally looking to settle back down in the house, and I'd rather not be living there anymore when they do. They can be so... Embarrassing."

Shiho thinks back to the tales Shinichi's mentioned in passing of his celebrity parents. Plenty of public displays of affection, his mother's insistence on getting involved in the most dramatic way possible when he has friends over, and his father's tendency to turn everything into an enigma to solve, including one notable occasion where using the coffee machine required solving a cryptic crossword. She hides her smirk. Shiho can see why Shinichi enjoyed his parents being away.

"Can you even afford to pay half the rent?" She teases, nudging him with her elbow as she drains the last of her mocha.

"Have you seen my rates?" He answers in mock affront. Shinichi chuckles and leans his forehead against hers. "As for finding you a new job, maybe you should have a word with my neighbour... I think he might be able to make you an offer."

"This the same neighbour who randomly explodes part of your garden wall?" Shiho asks, wary.

"Yeah. That's the Professor for you." His hand cups her cheek and pulls her face to his. All she sees is stars. She's floating. "I think you'd be a good influence on him."

Shiho feels the knot in her stomach evaporate. Suddenly the world doesn't feel against her. Everything is clicking into place.

"Shut up and kiss me," she says instead.

Shinichi does.

FIN.