A/N: Drabble. Movieverse, takes place immediately in the aftermath of Movie 14. KidCon.

The night was no longer young, and streets formerly filled with stragglers returning to their homes were now silent, as window lights began to flicker into darkness. A lazy summer breeze coursed through the alleyways, carrying with it a humid weight that promised rain in the coming hours. Heat still radiated off the blacktop, and combined with the muggy air, it was uncomfortable. Window air conditioning units hummed in the darkness, matching in an off-tune pitch with the cicada song echoing from tree to tree. Street lamps flickered dimly, pale swatches of peach staining the ground, and lining the uneven pathway.

A small hand reached out to press a sweaty palm against the nearest lamppost as Conan paused to catch his breath. He brought the other hand to wipe at his brow and winced at the motion. His arm was still sore from his recent run-in with that gun-toting criminal on the airship, which was also making running somewhat difficult. Each jolt agitated his wound, becoming more painful as he continued on, and his head was beginning to ache. Sighing, he let his arm drop back to his side, pressing his weight more into the pole. Pain-killers would be in store for him before bedtime, tonight.

Luckily, and if his deduction was correct, the place should be nearby, but he did not want to show up out of breath. He especially did not want to show up looking as handicapped and weary as he felt.

Damn that thief for not giving him much notice. What the hell did he do, follow him all the way back? Put a tracer in one of their bags? On their person? He already returned the Lady Sky, so exactly why was the thief continuing to keep tabs on him? More importantly, why did he feel the need to send out another notice? They'd barely made it back to Hattori's house when he found it nestled in his things, and he knew it hadn't been there earlier that evening. It was a personal invite, so Conan knew it probably had nothing to do with stealing another jewel, but the logic of it was still lost on the boy. He'd have to squeeze the answers out of the thief himself. Moreover, he fully intended to give him more than just a piece of his mind after that stunt he pulled with Ran. That flashy bastard, he had his arms around her!

He growled, pushing himself away from the pole and stuffing his hands into his pocket. To preserve his energy, he would walk the remainder of the way to his final destination. He caught sight of the street sign nearby, and smiled. He pulled out his phone, and double-checked his directions. Osaka was not familiar territory for the detective, and it made him feel a little more vulnerable than he'd have liked. If he had to give chase, and he imagined he would, no doubt he'd likely find himself incredibly lost. This was a more rural area of town, he noted. An appropriate choice of location.

He'd entertained thoughts of dragging Hattori out with him. Kid's note insisted he come alone, however, which was very odd. He expected the thief would probably do something drastic if he reneged on the request, though. He was pissed off at Kid, but he had helped him out with today's case. So instead, he managed to slip away (which was more difficult than he liked, involving some creative lying), and which currently found him here, in a rural corner of Osaka, chasing the white shadow.

Another several minutes, and he paused in front of a large factory warehouse. Muttering short nothings under his breath about size and shortness, he ducked through the barring rails, and made his way into the store yard. It looked to be a quarry of sorts, as he noted huge piles of soil and gravel to one side, covered by blue patches of tarp pinned to the ground. Carried by the wind, he could smell the earthiness of mulch piles in various states of decay, and his eyes wandered over to another series of piles as he passed around the next corner. Water tanks seated on small tower frames scattered themselves throughout the facility, tiny stair-steps winding around them in steep spirals. The place was huge; larger than he first thought. Just where did the thief expect for him to be found?

"I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show up, Tantei-kun."

His glasses flashed against a nearby light as his head rose to the voice. The thief crouched amongst a crisscrossing patch of metal piping, practically hiding in the heart of a nearby water tank's legs. Out of range of an impulsive soccer ball, Conan noticed.

He settled into a comfortable stance, hands shoved into his pockets. Well, it saved him the trouble of searching. Cool eyes regarded the thief. "I had other plans, you know."

"Nice to know you could spare the time." Kid straightened himself, and drew closer. His shoes clicked lightly, almost like music as they rang against the metallic piping. The makeshift shelter cast odd shadows over the thief, and Conan frowned, unable to see the other's face.

"Any chance to capture a criminal is as good as any." Kid clucked his tongue softly at this in something almost like fond amusement. That might have been true for any other criminal. Not Kaitou Kid. And it frustrated Conan to have it be so obvious. They had a tenuous kind of agreement Conan barely even recognized consciously, and he definitely did not want to dwell on it overmuch. He could not bring himself to admit he felt something akin to friendship for someone who, by all rights, should be his enemy.

"So you say." The thief stopped at the threshold, one gloved hand curled around an outer railing for support. The effect was almost surreal. With the metal running back and forth, it gave Conan a start - very nearly, it was like a mock image of Kid in jail. This mental image elicited a low chuckle, which prompted Kid to tilt his head curiously.

"Why'd you call me out here, Kid?"

"Hmm, why indeed. Curiosity, perhaps?"

Conan scoffed at the non-answer. "Curiosity? You're like a cat!" He fingered the clip at his belt demonstratively. If he wanted to play with fire, he'd definitely get burned. There was still the matter with Ran, as well. No way would he go easy on him.

After a thoughtful pause, Kid grinned at that, slicing white through the darkness with his amusement. His voice was playful. "I always land on my feet in the end."

Memories from earlier in the day flashed through his head, giving rise to another sort of headache. He gave the thief a deadpan glare. "Not from what I've seen. Your landings suck."

"Ah, that. I was distracted." Conan's gaze held steady, and Kid elaborated. "You had me captured in your hand and all."

Crimson flashed through the detective's face, as his frazzled memories suddenly became alarmingly clear. The fingers of his right hand tensed, and sensory memory came to the fore. "I had no intention - I didn't mean to - that was a mistake - I had no choice!" He sputtered and tripped over his words, struggling to get them out in some semblance of coherency. Damnit, that was a low blow, and it should have embarrassed Kid more than it embarrassed him. He'd groped Kaitou Kid. At least he had confirmed the Kid was definitively male. He was pretty certain before, but this left no shadow of a doubt. His lips stuttered the words out in some desperate plea to salvage his dignity. "Sorry!"

Head low, he blinked at himself. Why did he apologize? After receiving an invite to meet the white shadow, he came here, intended to vent his anger, smack him around with a soccer ball, and possibly shoot him with a tranquilizer-laden needle. Yet, here he was, bowing his head like someone who sullied someone's purity. He groaned internally. He would need to get resolution about that quickly, or he knew Kid would never let him live it down. And to his horror, the warm sensation ghosting over his fingertips just would not go away!

Blue eyes flickered back up to see the thief quietly making his way closer. He was a bit satisfied to see the thief was not completely immune to the situation, and even in the dim surroundings could see a bit of color on his cheeks, though his attention seemed cautiously focused on Conan's twitching fingers, which were still hovering over his belt. Quirking his lips, he allowed his hand to drop back to his side, signifying their temporary truce.

A soft cough. "Given the situation, it was understandable."

The silence was thick and heavy after that. Conan shifted his weight from one foot to the other before speaking up again, a bit of attitude returning. "You could have dropped me. I might have been able to grab one of the handholds."

Kid frowned at him. "Not a chance." He stepped closer, letting a few fingers float over the white bandage around the detective's head before sliding down to similarly hang over his arm, gauze peeking out from under his sleeve. Conan kept a wary eye as the thief moved, crouching down to his eyelevel. "A lightweight like you would have gone flying again. No way was I going to let go."

"Not my fault I'm like this." It was a petulant mutter, but still carried in the darkness. Even though the thief was not touching him, he could still feel the heat from the hand moving over his wounds in an almost appraising kind of motion. It made him entirely too self-conscious, and he found it difficult to ignore. The thief was methodically checking his injuries. He might have looked it, but he wasn't a kid who needed nursing!

"Hmm." More of a non-committal sound than anything, he hummed almost absently in reply. Conan figured it was his way of respecting his secret, and not digging his nose where it didn't belong, something he greatly appreciated. He was so absurdly strange, though. Audacious one moment, strangely considerate the next, even if he still maintained that frustratingly cocky smirk the whole while. Simply put, he was a criminal profiler's worst nightmare.

White fingers finally came up to hover over the band-aid Kid had given him earlier and stilled. Pink crept back onto his cheeks without permission, the heat noticeably bouncing off the thief's gloves and radiating back onto his skin. He'd seen the tiny inscription there when he saw it in the mirror while inspecting his head wound. His brain tumbled all kinds of random ideas around, trying to determine if it was some sort of practical joke on the magician's part, or if there were other mitigating factors that would explain why Kaitou Kid carried around band-aids that read "Shin'ichi v Love". Was he planning on giving them to Ran? Did it have something to do with whatever "that sort of thing" Ran was talking about? Was he planning on some other prank? His musings cut short as the thief spoke.

"You know, it was no lie when I said I was curious. It seems I have my answer, but it's merely made me even more curious." Indigo eyes were staring at him with an expression he could not define. Was that confusion? No, something else. Wonder? Suddenly, Conan was incredibly uncomfortable, and he shifted his weight again. He really did not feel like answering any implicating questions regarding men dressed in black, or the scientific secrets of shrinking. That was his problem. It was bad enough the thief knew his true identity. He would not go about satisfying that kind of curiosity.

"What the hell are you talking about, Kid…" He let exasperation color his words, shoving his hands into his pockets in what he hoped was a marked display of nonchalance.

"This." A finger lightly traced the bandage on his cheek. Conan sighed in irritation.

"None of the wounds were that serious. I was only grazed, so don't think this will slow me down." He took the moment to form a crook of a smartass grin. "Unless you mean your prank. 'Shin'ichi love'? Not sure what you were planning with that one."

That familiar, arrogant smirk came in reply, then movement.

His muscles seized in confused shock. There was something soft. And warm. Lips? Lips. Those were lips. Kid's lips. On his. His brain circled around, looking for the proper word to describe it. What was it again - when two pairs of lips comes together? Oh, that's right. A kiss. They were kissing. His brain stuttered. He was kissing Kaitou Kid. His mind rebooted. No, Kaitou Kid was kissing him.

He swung an arm out, and drew back, growling. "Kid, you-!" His hand shot up to cover his mouth, the crimson flush catching up just as quickly and burning his fingertips.

Kid hopped back several paces, light on his toes, and a low chuckle followed. "Definitely curious."

Conan glared daggers at the thief, free hand impulsively drawing down to his shoe's power switch. He flinched as a card embedded itself into the ground less than an inch from his fingers, and shot a disparaging glance at the other. Kid was a good shot, but that was still too damn close. Had he moved, he might have lost a finger. He scowled, frozen in mid-motion, and hissed out the words. "What's the big idea, Kid?"

The white hat was tipped forward, casting a near-black shadow on his face, and all the detective could see was that infuriating white grin. Even the monocle lay hidden under the brim. All vestiges of familiarity disappeared, and Kid stood like a pale statue, almost as if he'd become a total stranger. For a moment, the only movement was the settling silk of Kid's cape, and the bobbing of his clover charm.

Slowly, the magician's supporting left hand released his wrist, and dropped back to his side. The right maintained his aim with his card gun. "You can consider this making things even." His head tilted to a more rakish angle, and life breathed back into the form before him. "A down payment."

Conan's scowl deepened. "That was an accident."

His grin widened. "Take responsibility. You were the thief this time."

And then all at once, light exploded in his eyes, causing imaginary fireflies to dance across his vision. He winced against the onslaught, and yanked an arm up to hide behind. Straining his ears, he could hear the faint rustling of fabric and light tapping of shoes as the moonlight thief took his leave. Once he adjusted again to the darkness, Kid was gone. Releasing a huge, pent up sigh, he let himself sink fully to his knees.

"What the hell?" His fingers trembled, hovering over his mouth. A mortified red stain stubbornly persisted on his cheeks, and felt hot in the muggy summer evening. He ignored the flickering buzz of a dying light, the rippling of tarp in an increasing breeze, and the distant clacking of chains. The clouds lazily tumbled together in the sky, blotting out the moon, and casting dim shadows. It wasn't until ten minutes later the detective finally picked himself up and started on his way back.

This was one mystery, he resolved, that he was okay with leaving alone. Somehow, he felt, it would be like stirring up a bee's nest, so for now, he would ignore that niggling in the back of his brain, and just focus on placing one foot in front of the other. He would get back, enjoy a late night snack with Hattori, joke around, and sleep himself into oblivion. He would leave dealing with the thief until next time. And there would be a next time. That much he promised himself.