Daydream, a detective conan/case closed fanfic

A/N: Hello, it's me again. Decided to upload one of my favorites here, but it was originally posted in LJ. I'll just be slowly moving some fics that I like over here, ehe. :'D

The officers saw him daydreaming into space again. In the midst of solving a rather tough case, the ten year old was staring at a particular spot near the window. He hadn't said anything about it and there wasn't anything alarmingly significant about it, so daydreaming it was. His mind wasn't on the case— another soft sigh escaped his lips.

The officers and inspectors were slightly touched— their little defender of justice fell in love? It looked like it. But with who? Some cute girl in his class, maybe. But they'd have to wait until the case was done before asking. And at this rate, the boy seemed more occupied in deducing his feelings than that of the suicide note.

"Conan?" Takagi chanced to ask; a hesitant hand reached out to lightly tap the detective from his stupor.

He suddenly jumped as if he had completely forgotten where he was and what he was doing. His face burned at the embarrassment of being caught, and he fidgeted with the latex gloves on his hands, mumbling a poor excuse of an observation to Takagi.

"There doesn't seem to be anything strange over there," Conan muttered before he went off to stare at a copy of the dead man's note. Takagi and an accompanying officer cluttered near the door frame, watching Conan stumble over to the table—

"Do you think he's sick?" One of the denser policemen asked. Takagi shook his head, a hand cradling his chin before he recognized the symptoms in which the little detective was exhibiting.

"No, just very distracted."

And Conan sighed again.

Takagi sent him home at four.

The case wasn't resolved and Conan doubted that it would be solved in the course of the day without his guidance. But the concerned look of the forensic team and homicide investigtors told him that they very much wanted him to go home and rest. Megure-keibu said that Conan looked quite feverish. Takagi-keiji assured him that wasn't the case, but nevertheless implored the grade schooler to head home. Conan couldn't help but feel a bit guilty, since he was at fault for his inadequate performance.

It frustrated him. The heavy heart and lingering sigh was something he was never accustomed to.

The supposed suicide note he had been studying had somehow morphed itself to look like a heist notice. And the curtains that were stained with a curious splash of coffee came to look like a white cape twisting in the wind. And Conan would stare into space, mind lapsing back to the previouse heist-

"Tantei-kun, if you will allow it, may I steal your heart since you've stolen mine?"

And he'd spend the next few minutes or hours if he could, sighing tremendously and looking forlornly at the ground, agonizing over what he had said and what he should've done—

"What the hell are you saying? Just—" I like you too, maybe a bit more than you think I do. "—Give me back the jewel—"

All words he had wanted to say— wanted to blurt out— were eaten up by a mumbled string of intelligible curses. The thief became quiet; he had no witty banter to offer that night.

And he reached out a hand with a horrible feeling pooling in his gut. The white-clad thief wordlessly handed the jewel back and with a poker face smile, bid the tiny detective goodnight.

Even now, three weeks after, he couldn't wash the feeling of guilt from his stomach. And the fact that his throat clenches tight and he feels like crying every time he thinks about it— He hated it.

The stupid thief was surely taking his time—

Conan shook his head vigorously- he needed to concentrate on the case, on these several cases. He couldn't just repeatedly fail Megure-keibu because of this stupid feeling in his chest.

The boy trudged up the stairs to the detective office and pushed the door in, heaving another sigh as the music of Yoko's concert blared.

This was not how he wanted to spend his break.

He tossed the jewel up and down, peering into the glass each time it became airborne. No hidden jewel there—

"Bocchama, the preparations are ready—" the static buzzed in his ear. Kid pocketed the jewel away into his black sweatpants.

He was thousands of miles away from home, stealing jewels in Paris, and checking them in a park amidst the bustle of tourists and honeymoon couples. That gave him a bitter twitch in the corner of his lip. Thousands of miles away from the only person who gave him a thrill in each heist—

"Right, I'm on my way."

The humid air bit at him again and he stood up, the weight in his pocket shifted.

"They expect your arrival at five, as you promised."

"And I'll be there as promised," Kid snickered as he stole through the crowded streets.

To be scurrying around all over Europe was something he would have enjoyed had not he kept getting reminded of his adorable detective. The incompetance of the European police often prompted him to remember Tantei-kun and the exciting chases that usually entailed. How was he doing anyways?

The last he had seen him, he had left the small boy flushing dark red on the rooftop. But even if he could smile at this accomplishment, he was rejected, Kid bitterly laughed. It wasn't a surprise that Tantei-kun flat out ignored him like that. Was it the way he asked? Was there not enough flowers and sparkles? Perhaps, he just didn't court him long enough to melt that ice heart of his—

"You seem rather focused," the old man commented as Kid adjusted the ear piece and communicator to his waist. Kid looked up, dressed in a fairly different attire. He wasn't in white- unfamiliar territory called for black clothes, full stealth.

"I want to head home already, Jiichan."

Tonight was the last string of heists that he'd pull before flying back to Japan, the faster he finished, the faster he goes.

He pushed up his glasses as he surveyed the area. Security was tight, especially around the entrance but as foreigners were curious about the return of the international thief, they crowded the gates. This would make it especially easy for him to sneak in.

It's easy infiltration, Kid thought. Way easier than that back in Japan.

He doubted that the inspector in charge of this heist would tug hard on the faces of the crowd, so he didn't have to worry. It was also a good thing that there was a group of very, very loyal Japanese Kid fans who have flown themselves over to Paris, or anywhere he announced his next heist. If Kid wanted to be a bully, he would have them hopping on planes flying from one continent to another—

Then again, they could probably afford to do that since Suzuki was the enthusiastic sponsor and chairman of the club. So many years since he started and he was as famous and elusive as ever.

He stuck a hand into his pocket and felt for his cellphone.

"Back at home, there's a jewel waiting for me to steal it." He pulled out the cellphone and swiped at the touchscreen functions. There was a light hum from his ear piece. "A jewel worth more than anything I've stolen."

"The next flight leaves at six, Bocchama."

Kid's finger pressed a button and siren sounded off in a shriek. Red lights flashed and the crowd panicked with hushed whispers and awaiting eyes. The police stood stiff in their lines, hands nervously fiddling with their walkie talkies and tranq guns.

Kid slipped into the crowd.

"I'll catch it then. Book me a ticket."

He's been doing a good job at keeping his head during the past weeks. Well, he flustered most of the time when there was news of Kid's appearance in Europe. And then a week-or-so later, several announcements of Kid returning to steal in Japan, mostly back to back since the World's Jewel Exhibition case was that week—

But Conan distracted himself by tagging along with the Detective Boys and searching for treasure- age ten and still looking for treasure? And again, most of the time, there were mysterious kidnappings and murders that Conan had to solve.

So he was pretty occupied, most of the time. Didn't even bother to think about the white-clad thief that was stealing back in Tokyo. If he could, he'd stay in the mountains for the rest of summer just to rid himself of that annoying feeling in his chest.

Conan collapsed tiredly onto his bed, grateful that the smell of clean sheets greeted him and not the odor of damp earth. His bag was slung carelessly on the floor and after wiggling his toes a bit, his socks tumbled down to join it.

To those in Tokyo, it was a whole week frenzy of trying to catch a glimpse of Kid. But for Conan, it was a whole week of non-stop hiking through the woods. Every one or so days, the detective boys and Doc. Agasa encountered dead bodies and kidnapped campers left and right.

Next time, Conan made a mental note, they shouldn't pick camping of all the things to do during summer. People seemed to suddenly have the time and thought it was a great idea to pick the forest to carry out their murder.

Well, thank god, it was all over and they headed home after the fifth encounter. Conan shut his eyes tiredly, his arms shifting to cradle his head. It felt a while since he had laid in his own bed, in the safety of his own room.

Within his four walls, there would be no murders, no kidnapping, no thieves—

— Thieves? The color of white flashed at the mention. Conan rolled onto his back and stared blankly at the quickly darkening ceiling. He hissed at himself and slugged an arm over his eyes- an image of a certain white-clad criminal started to come into mind. He's done a great job for a week not thinking about it, and now-

The soft and smooth voice sailed into his ears—

"Tantei-kun, if you will allow it, may I steal your heart since you've stolen mine—?"

Conan burned bright red, squeezing his eyes shut. No, no, no— forget about it, it was probably a huge joke, Kid probably meant to distract him while he made off with the jewel. Good thing he rejected him and got the jewel back. Yeah, Kid was just probably biding his time—

"Well, goodnight, Tantei-kun."

Something was weird about the way he left; it was void of sparkles—but even without that, the whole thing was odd and odder. Could he brush it off as just a joke?

In the first place, why would Kid even like him of all people? Conan resorted to anything to catch that thief and throw him into jail, even went so far as to launch soccer balls at him while in flight— dammit, Conan almost killed him when Kid accidentally miscalculated his landing. But despite that, Conan enjoyed the endless opportunity in outwitting the other and being outwitted— Was that it? Did Kid like him because of his brain?

But wait, he couldn't rule out the possibility that Kid meant it as a distraction. If Kid was lying, he usually is anyways, then what was he getting so worked up over about?

Conan sat up and dryly laughed but the heavy weight in his chest only sunk deeper. Instead of asking how Kid came to like him, he should wonder why he even let Kid like him-

Did Conan like him then? Conan flushed at the very thought and scrubbed his face with a knuckle. Okay, he'll have to admit that he liked his codes. Maybe he liked a little bit of that chivalrous personality behind the monocle—

So Conan was in love with a thief? One he was trying to capture no less?

Conan batted the thought away and glared hard at the sheets. Well, maybe the word 'love' might be a bit too much. He doesn't love the damn thief, he's just— The ten year old collapsed on the bed after a frustrated flailing session. Maybe this gutting feeling in the pit of his stomach, which kept rising to his chest, was just mere frustration.

Maybe it was puberty hormones.

He turned over to the side and stared at the wall. Well, whatever the case was, he'd very much like to see the thief again and aim a soccer ball into his face. Maybe after doing that, this feeling of utter hopelessness— he was aware that he was being dramatic- would dissipate. But maybe... maybe not.

Conan sighed again.

"Stupid Kid, where the hell are you?"

The little detective had initially planned to skip this heist. After all, he's skipped the last two or three, and he didn't want to see the thief again despite his rather dramatic love sick mood swings. When Kid was mentioned in his new middle school class, everyone cheered, but Conan felt like rolling into a corner and burying himself into his favorite mystery book. It's not like he didn't want to see him— he really did and every time he shut his eyes he saw the grin and the monocle—

But today, he didn't want to see him.

Conan wasn't sure why he was so suddenly stubborn against going, maybe it was the thought of seeing him again so soon made his stomach feel very unpleasant. Several times throughout the school day, the teacher asked if he was feeling alright— "You look somewhat feverish," his other classmates would quip.

He was going to lock himself in his room and finish homework and maybe read some Holmes stories, but the Detective Boys dragged him out to get snacks in the middle of town, and Conan found himself idly walking around by himself until he found himself at the perimeter of the exhibition.

Conan was going to bolt— he really was going to, but then some stupid blond detective stopped him.

And here he was standing on the door to the rooftop, inwardly screaming at himself to get the hell out of there before Kid sees him and Conan would bet at a loss of word—

Kid was sitting on the ledge of a building, his back towards him with the ridiculous white cape flowing in the wind. A purple jewel shot into the air and was caught with nimble fingers and continued its flight without taking notice of the visitor ten feet away from him.

Final chance to run, should he—?

Conan's feet had turned frozen to the ground. He wanted to run and give up, Nakamori-keibu and the others aren't that far behind him and all that, he could just-

No, he needs to get the jewel back. Everyone was counting on him, even Nakamori-keibu admitted he needed his help and Kid could very well up and leave any moment if it was anyone else that faced him. And in the words of that British Detective— "He's only ever let the child get close, so why not, keibu?"

Stupid English detective.

He gripped his hands tighter and bit down his lip. He can't run away, not now, and not today. Conan was flushed, from running and also from the mere thought of having to see the thief again after a month's time between them.

Just say, "Give the jewel back," or the typical, "I knew you'd be here." But Conan didn't feel like his voice would say anything more than a mere squeak.

The little detective swallowed thickly, summoning up his courage and he clenched his eyes shut while opening his mouth—

"If you're here for the jewel, you can't have it just yet."

A squeak sounded somewhere and Conan realized with horror it came from him. He quickly shut his mouth and clamped a hand over it— since when could his voice get that high?

Right, puberty, okay.

"W-Why not? I don't have all day." And Conan uneasily grinned, mentally congratulating himself for not squeaking in an embarrassing prepubescent voice. So far so good, he shifted his weight slightly, noting with disapproval at how stiffly he was standing and how tight his fists were clenched.

He un-gripped them and chose to rub his arms. The figure in front of him moved only slightly.

"There's some things I want to ask. "

No, he can't give the thief any more time than this. He's rehearsed this a million times before and Conan was sure he could say it aloud for the umpteenth time. Conan steadily stared at the concrete below the flapping cape. "Do it later, give back the jewel now."

There was a clack in front of him and a white shoe appeared on the slab of concrete he had been staring at. Conan swallowed but kept his hard glare on it.

"Was there something that you don't like?"

The shoe moved forward and another one appeared. Conan sputtered on air before he managed to figure out his words— "Stop spouting nonsense, Nakamori-keibu wants—"

"Did I do something wrong?"

A step closer, and the hair on the back of Conan's neck began to rise on its end. A shadow fell on top of him and he felt the inherent need to get away and out from there. He felt a rising panic in the back of his throat but he swallowed the horrifying squeak. No, keep calm, keep calm—

"You—"

"Is there a reason why you are ignoring me?"

"Kid—"

His back met against the wall and he wondered how many steps he took backwards and wow, what an interesting piece of concrete over there was-

The next moment he was basked in shadow, the air became thicker, Conan could barely breathe when a hand cupped his face and turned it. There was a persistent pounding in his ears and heat climbed up his throat and into his face. Dark blue eyes stared back— glared actually, and the usual smiling and irritating grin was replaced by thinly pressed lips.

"I don't like being ignored."

For a moment Conan stared, his eyes softening into a daze, did Kid always have pretty blue eyes? He never really noticed before how piercing they were.

His mouth moved and something was whispered; the glare let up and Conan's eyelashes fluttered slightly— what a really nice shade of blue—

Wait,wait,wait, hisfacewastooclose—!

Conan tore his eyes away and glanced at the small space of ground on the floor, since when did—? His face was just merely inches away and if he wanted to, Conan could rush forward and give the frown a peck on the lips— wait no, wrong thinking— did he just wanted to kiss a thief—? His arms flew in front of him and roughly shoved the adult away. "N-No!"

The tension broke; the glare slipped off his face and turned into confusion. "Tantei-kun?"

Wow, he sure felt stupid now, and he reddened under the thief's gaze. Conan tossed his head to the side, could he get out from here? The door was just there, a few feet away. All he'd have to do is release the soccer ball and kick Kid with it— but wouldn't that be a bit too mean—?

A breath faintly rustled his bangs and Conan's attention was pulled back to his situation, here and now. What to do, what to do?

"You okay? You're all red."

"You're the one who confessed—!" Conan blurted it out in a high-pitched squeal too frustrated and too panicked for his own good. Silence passed between them and Conan's eyes widened.

Oh shit.

Did he just—?

The detective's burned when a familiar smirk twitched almost barely onto the thief's face, but it fell back into its poker face. Shame and humiliation dropped onto Conan like dead weight and his legs felt jittery— now would be the best time to mug the stupid thief, grab the jewel and run away—

"Conan."

Ahh, shit, he just called him by his name—

Forget the jewel, run away first, goddammit this was so embarrassing, why the hell was he acting like such a girl—

"Wait, come back here." Strong arms wrapped around his waist and nearly pulled him off his feet. A warmth pressed onto his back and his hands clutched at the arms around him. Conan was drowned in a light scent of musk and lavender, and whenever he breathed his mind lagged a little bit more—

"Is that why you ignored me the last few heists?"

His mind combusted, and he swore he saw sparkling stars when his head collapsed limply.

"Because I confessed?" The breathe continued to blow over his head and Conan shut his eyes; it was so suffocating and the smell was subtle but slowly overwhelming him. "Did it bother you this whole time?"

"L-Let—" he whispered hoarsely, small hands fumbling to get him off. Another breath and a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead—

He shoved Kid away, or rather the thief decided to relinquish his grip. Conan stumbled on his feet but turned, fists gripped.

"It's all your fault! If you didn't upright go and say those things, everything would be fine!"

Kid stood a while, staring in a sort of awe-struck blank mein. His face then turned to a lopsided frown, half of his mouth was still turned upwards—

"But you rejected me."

Conan's face turned hot at the accusation, and before he could check his words, they flew out in a jumble— "I didn't say anything—!"

An eyebrow went up and Conan fumed, chest heaving slightly.

"You like me then, Tantei-kun?" He was closer, eyes slanted in a masked curiosity. Conan slunk away, shoulders stiff against the back of the wall. That mischievous glint in his eyes was something to not look forward to, Conan had learned. A gloved hand cupped the side of his face, long fingers lightly gripped his hair.

"I didn't say that either—"

A soft pair of lips pressed against his and he flushed a darker shade of red—

He flat-lined.

— a tongue pried through his mouth and swept the insides of his lower lip—

Or felt like he did.

"K-K—" The rest of his name was swallowed with a whine following right after. The lips pulled away and Conan saw black— and he realized that his eyes were shut. Did he close his eyes?

"I can rest easy then."

His eyes fluttered open slightly before a light kiss on his forehead forced them shut again. Conan barely could hear him over the avalanche of thumps in his ears. A hand fingered his chin and he shivered; lips ghosted over his lips. A breath sprayed against his parted mouth.

"I still have a chance."

From the side, there was a clamor of steel and noisy shouts in the stairwell. There was an extended silence from the thief in front of him, and when Conan peeked, Kid's head was turned towards the door. The thief quirked a brow before smirking at Conan. "Eh, well...we can continue this later."

His brain was kicked back into reboot when Kid softly pushed himself away. He swept up a small hand and bent into a low bow. With a wink, he pressed his lips against the back of his hand.

"Goodnight, my little Tantei-kun."

An explosion of smoke in front of him knocked Conan back into his senses and out of balance. He fell onto the floor with a hard thump, eyes still cloudy and dazed from a few minutes before.

Absently, Conan touched his lips. The wet saliva was quickly cooling on his mouth. Wow, Kid was a pretty good kisser— wait. Kiss—?

A blush climbed to his face and he flailed.

Kid kissed him. He found it hard to believe, even after rubbing his lips profusely with the back of his hand. Goddammit, he used tongue on him, tongue.

How did he let that happen—

"Pretty good job at getting them back, yeah, Tantei-chan?"

Conan blinked as a shadow fell into step in front of him. "Eh?"

A glimmering stone sat snugly in his jacket's pocket and he pulled it out— and quickly stuffed a rose and tiny teddy bear back into the folds of his clothes. He could feel the detective in front of him quirk a curious brow.

He tried to level his breathing before lifting his head with a childish smile. "Y-yeah, Saguru-niichan! Kid-niichan gave it to after I told him I would kick him really, really hard with my soccer ball!"

The jewel was handed back to the blond detective and he regarded it under the shine of the moon. Conan gathered himself from the floor, shoving his hand roughly to the pocket of his hoodie jacket. He winced when his hand grazed a bit over a sharp edge of a rose' leaf, but he kept a light smile. "Neh! Well, neechan might get angry if I go home late, so I should go!"

And he was about to skip off before he could get caught in Nakamori-keibu's radar— a hand patted his shoulder and stopped him.

"Wait—"

Conan's eye twitched. He offered an annoyed smile, body slumping. What now?

The foreign-born detective raised a hand to his chin and rubbed it thoughtfully. "Well, Edogawa-kun, since you're very good at getting these back, would you mind if you retrieved the others?"

The adult beamed a polite smile and Conan died a little inside. "O...Others?"

"That bad, bad man made off with the three gems belonging to this exhibition." Hakuba made a point to shut his eyes and nod smartly. "He didn't give it back yet."

Conan swallowed. Is this going here he think it's going—

A card was presented in front of him and Conan was obliged to take it with a curious blink. It was clearly written instructions about when and where to be at. No riddles, no mystery, no Kid sign. Conan deflated slightly. Would this just be Hakuba making him do all the legwork again?

Conan stared blankly before snapping his head up. "Sagu—"

"So please take your time." And Hakuba lightly stepped away, holding a hand in the air for a farewell. Conan fumed slightly before he turned his gaze back down to the card.

Great. Just his day.

When he rubbed his fingers against the card, there was this odd friction. Conan raised a brow as he turned the card to its side and stared. The card was rather thick. Was it glued together?

He pried it open and a piece of paper slipped from between the two stuck cards. The thin slip of paper floated to the ground and Conan curiously picked it up.

It was white on one side. Conan idly turned it over—

Kid.

It was signed by Kid and that annoying smirking logo, with a "Let's continue it, shall we?"—

Conan blanked.