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candyficsTitle: Six Things Not to Say to a Woman
Fandom: Detective Conan
Characters: Shinichi/Ran, Kaito/Aoko, Heiji/Kazuha (General series)
Prompt: #35—sixth sense
Word Count: 2674 words
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they’d stop complaining.
Summary: It’s time for the other side of the coin, with six more things you just shouldn’t say.
– I’ve got it all under control. –
It was supposed to be a pleasant little outing—a romantic weekend trip to a hot spring to relax and spend some time together and hopefully not be interrupted by a dead body falling out of the sky and crashing through the hotel roof, or some bigwig turning purple and falling face-first into his soup at dinner. That was Ran’s private hope, at least.
But as they usually did when Shinichi was involved, things tended to go horribly wrong. The man was a walking, breathing embodiment of Murphy’s Law. Still, at least in this particular case the thing going wrong didn’t involve a corpse.
Not yet, anyway.
“Shinichi…”
“Ran, stop worrying. Everything is fine.”
“But we should have been there twenty minutes ago,” she pointed out with far more calm than she actually felt. Her hands fidgeted with the straps on her purse for a lack of anything else to do. “Are you sure you know where we’re going?”
She saw his hands tighten on the steering wheel. “Yes. I’m sure.”
“Why don’t we stop and ask for directions?” she suggested in spite of her better judgment, already sure that she knew what the response was going to be.
It came, exactly as she expected it to. “Ran, I’ve got it all under control! So just relax!”
Ran sighed and leaned back against her seat, giving up. She began mentally counting down the minutes that were being lost to Shinichi’s stubbornness, and imagining the more enjoyable activities that could be occupying this time. All she could do now was wait and see what happened, although she was ninety-nine percent sure that she knew exactly how this was going to end.
And it was not going to be pretty. For Shinichi, at least.
Sure enough, a good fifteen minutes later, Shinichi pulled into a gas station and parked and stopped the car. He kept his hands and gaze both firmly on the steering wheel in front of him, and did not look at her. He also was uncharacteristically quiet.
And Ran had to say it. She tried valiantly to resist the urge, but in the end she just could not help herself. “You have everything under control, you said?” For some reason, she was taking a certain amount of fiendish delight in watching him squirm as he realized his mistake. It was so rare an occasion when he made a mistake of this size, and she found herself taking a sadistic pleasure in watching the all-perfect detective be brought down a couple of notches.
The glare Shinichi threw her could have frozen water. “Would you mind just asking for directions?”
She decided to take pity on him. “Oh, all right.” She put her hand on the car door, then paused and threw out one last jab. “But if we blow a flat, I’m taking a taxi and you’re walking home, dear.”
– Relax. –
Aoko had a temper. This had always been the case. From the time they first met when they were five years old, Kaito had known that she could get very fired up about things. And he had learned shortly thereafter that she was funny (and also rather pretty) when she was all riled up like that, and so made it his life’s mission to annoy her as much as possible.
But sometimes he would pull something, and belatedly realize that he had gone too far or inadvertently pushed the wrong button. And when those things happened, he would be appropriately apologetic and try to make things right. After all, he liked to tease. He wasn’t cruel.
…well, not intentionally, anyway.
But apparently that little trick with the shoe horn and the red oven mitt had been a bit too much, and Aoko was furious almost to the point of tears. She was screaming and red-faced and furious, and Kaito really felt bad. He had gone too far, and he was going to swallow his pride and attempt to apologize as soon as Aoko stopped to take a breath (she had been going for six minutes and twenty-six seconds without breaking for air, and was still going).
But at the same time, if Aoko kept going like this…he had the feeling that someone was going to get hurt in some way or another. He had actually noticed Aoko eyeing a few heavy items in the room, and her hands were twitching as though she was just dying to lay them around his neck and squeeze. And she was not stopping for air. This was not good at all!
Finally, for a lack of any other options, he jumped up and grabbed her shoulders. The motion was enough to momentarily startle her into silence. “Aoko!” he said, taking advantage of the fact that she was inhaling. “I’m sorry! Just…relax!”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized that he could not possibly have said anything worse. Aoko’s eyes grew wide, and her face flushed an even deeper shade of red. Her hands clenched into fists, and she started to shake, like a washing machine on spin cycle. For a lack of anywhere else to hide, Kaito ducked behind the couch and put his arms over his head to wait out the imminent explosion.
It came.
In a torrent of swearing that would probably have the neighbors gossiping for weeks.
Somewhere amidst all that, he was able to discern actual words—something about how he seemed to think she was overreacting or being irrational, but in fact he was a complete CENSORED and he had no right to say anything like that and she was not overreacting because goddammit, had he SEEN what he did to her closet and she was never going to get the carpet clean after that idiotic prank he pulled!
Kaito made a mental note to be extra nice to Aoko for a while.
Or else.
– What did you do to your hair? –
A lifetime of friendship had afforded Heiji some insight as to some of Kazuha’s behaviors depending on her moods. Whether or not he actually paid attention to those insights…well, that depended. He really only listened to those insights on days that didn’t end in Y.
But either way, this knowledge came into play at the strangest moments, both before they had started dating and long after their romantic relationship had gotten underway and started developing. Kazuha had gone out earlier, saying that she had an appointment to get her hair cut, and then she was going to run a couple of errands.
He waved her off with an obligatory jab about how a haircut wasn’t going to help, and she called him an ahou before giving him a kiss goodbye and taking her leave. Theirs was definitely an odd relationship, by almost any standards, but it worked for them, and they were both extremely happy .
But at the moment, he became aware that there was something seriously wrong. And he came to this conclusion by nature of the fact that when Kazuha came back from her trip that day, she did something that was not of her normal habit. Usually when she walked back in, she would open the door and call out a greeting as she closed it. She would normally talk to him from the entryway as she took her shoes off before coming in properly to talk to him face to face.
This time, however, he heard the door open, and then he heard it slam shut. Bad sign right there. But the fact that she hadn’t even called out an obligatory “I’m home!” or any such thing was another interesting sign. Either she was trying to sneak in (possibly with something for him), or something had gone awry during her day. The slamming of the door seemed to negate the possibility of her trying to be stealthy, as he was pretty sure they heard that crash in Scotland.
And then she walked into his line of sight—or rather, through it. She seemed to be a woman on a mission, storming towards her room with her fists clenched and her face a flushed mask of rage. But it was enough for him to see that something was different: her hair was shorter. Like, a LOT shorter. It wasn’t that it looked bad, necessarily. But Kazuha had spent much of her life growing her hair out and wearing it in that ponytail. She could be a little bit vain about her hair.
And without even bothering with something as trivial as thinking before he spoke, Heiji piped up with what seemed like an innocent question. “What did you do to your hair?”
Kazuha froze in the doorway of her bedroom; Heiji swore he could hear brakes screeching.
She turned and marched back to him, leaning down so she was looking him straight in the eye, and putting one arm on either side of him so he had no escape. “Listen up, ahou,” she growled. “I didn’t do ANYTHING to my hair. That idiot at the salon did this to my hair. Because apparently, a trim translates to several inches. So I’ll thank you to keep your goddamn mouth shut!”
With that, she stormed back to her room and slammed that door as well. Heiji was left sitting there, contemplating how close to death he had really come, and mentally adding that particular question to his list of things he should not say to Kazuha.
Let it never be said that the boy couldn’t be taught.
– You’re acting just like my mother. –
The minute the words popped out of his mouth, Shinichi regretted them. He put his hands over his mouth, wishing and praying that he could somehow take them back and hide them away forever, but it was too late. The damage was done.
And Ran was staring at him like he had just told her he was in love with Kaitou Kid.
This whole thing had started out so innocently, so simply, so not confrontational. Ran had wanted to go shopping, and he had agreed (albeit a bit begrudgingly) to go with her. When they had gotten to the store, she had immediately led the way to a certain department (one that was soon to become extremely relevant to their interests), and then...
She had undergone a change. A transformation, happening before his very eyes.
His sweet, calm, sensible Ran had started squealing.
And all Shinichi could do was stand there and watch, horrified, as she started bouncing around the department, picking up various small articles of clothing and hurrying back over to eagerly show him what she had found and gushing about how adorable it was before tossing it to him and rushing to the next thing to catch her eye while babbling on excitedly.
Shinichi privately blamed the hormones. That had to be it. There was simply no other explanation as to why he would be left standing here, holding a pile of clothes that increased in size every time she returned to where he was standing, and watching her scurry around like an attention deficit five-year-old hyped up on sugar.
“What about this one, Shin-chan?” she bubbled, her eyes sparkling as she held up yet another hanger with yet another small outfit hanging from it. “Isn’t it cute?”
It was the nickname that did it. She had used it before (usually in VERY private moments, though), but to hear her say that god-awful nickname in public like that…the words were past his lips before he could even think about them and reason out that what he was about to say was probably not a good thing.
“You’re acting just like my mother!”
When he realized that her chin was quivering (goddamn hormones and the mood swings they wrought!) he quickly tried to amend, “I mean, err, not like that’s necessarily a bad thing! I—it was the nickname, you know how Mom is when she gets excited, and I…I…” His shoulders slumped. “I’m not making this any better, am I?”
Ran sniffled. “I’m just excited…the baby…” She toyed with one little sleeve.
Desperate and guilty (and hell, even desperately guilty), Shinichi glanced at the nearest rack. By a quick shifting of the pile in his arms, he grabbed a hanger and held it out. “H-how about this one?”
– You complete me. –
“You are the cream of my corn!”
Aoko stared. “What?”
“You are the apple of my pie!”
She blinked. “Kaito, what are you doing?”
He leaned across the table towards her, grinning. “Oh, pearl of my oyster!”
Now she raised an eyebrow as comprehension dawned. “What is this, bad pick-up line day?”
“Your graphics are so beautiful that they rival Doom 3!” he crooned.
“…wait, what?” Aoko gaped.
“You complete me.”
“You’re joking, right?” Aoko resisted the urge to plant her face into the tabletop. Apparently, Kaito had decided that he was going to try some pick-up lines (possibly the worse, the better) and she was the guinea pig. It was official: her best friend was a moron.
“The voices in my head told me to come over here and talk to you.”
“Oh my god…”
“Excuse me, miss, but I seem to have lost my phone number. Can I borrow yours?”
“Kaito.”
“What’s your sign?”
“Kaito.”
“You must be an adverb, because you sure do modify me!”
“Kaito!”
“If I were an enzyme, I’d be DNA helicase so I could unzip your genes.”
“Kaito!” Aoko said sternly, and he fell silent; she gave him a look to hide the fact that she was trying to figure out what the hell that last one was. “Stop being an idiot and listen. If you really want to get a girl’s attention, don’t be so insincere. We’ve all seen the movies. We know the lines. Just…be honest and be sincere. That’s all you have to do.” She took a bite of her sandwich. “Trust me on that.”
He stared at her for a long moment. Then he smiled. “Okay then. Will you go out with me?”
– Do you really think you should be eating that? –
Heiji was watching her.
Kazuha calmly scooped up another spoonful of ice cream from the cardboard tub in her hand and popped it into her mouth, quietly reveling in the delicious taste of chocolate and cookie dough melting on her tongue. This was a happy, happy thing.
…but Heiji was still watching her with that look of his. She had a sixth sense for things like that. The look he was wearing was one that meant he was about to ask something incredibly stupid, and she was going to have to take her attention away from her precious, precious ice cream to roll her eyes at him and call him an ahou. And then she would be annoyed, and she would have to let her dear friends, Ben and Jerry, cheer her back up with their fudge brownie and chocolate chip cookie dough goodness.
Unfortunately, she was not to be left in peace to enjoy the tasty treat that she was happily eating straight out of the carton. Heiji had something to say, and he was going to say it, no matter how much of an idiot he made himself seem.
“Do you really think you should be eating that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Try as she might, though, Kazuha just couldn’t muster up the appropriate rage for the question. The ice cream was just too good, and apparently frozen treat nirvana could counteract even Heiji’s most moronic moments. “Yes. I should,” she said flatly, spooning up more ice cream.
“Are you sure?” he persisted.
“Yes. I am.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Now stop asking. You’re annoying me,” she took another bite.
“…didn’t you say you were giving it up?” Heiji still continued to bother her.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m eating it now,” she said.
“But—“
“Would you like this spoon in a very uncomfortable place, Heiji?”
“…no.”
“Then shut up and let me eat my ice cream.”
PS. The companion piece to the previous story. Taken from that same MSN article. I did have a lot of fun coming up with really bad pick-up lines for Kaito to say to Aoko, although he suddenly decided to turn all sweet at the end of it. That was just fun. Anyway, thanks for reading, all! Much love!
Fandom: Detective Conan
Characters: Shinichi/Ran, Kaito/Aoko, Heiji/Kazuha (General series)
Prompt: #35—sixth sense
Word Count: 2674 words
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they’d stop complaining.
Summary: It’s time for the other side of the coin, with six more things you just shouldn’t say.
It was supposed to be a pleasant little outing—a romantic weekend trip to a hot spring to relax and spend some time together and hopefully not be interrupted by a dead body falling out of the sky and crashing through the hotel roof, or some bigwig turning purple and falling face-first into his soup at dinner. That was Ran’s private hope, at least.
But as they usually did when Shinichi was involved, things tended to go horribly wrong. The man was a walking, breathing embodiment of Murphy’s Law. Still, at least in this particular case the thing going wrong didn’t involve a corpse.
Not yet, anyway.
“Shinichi…”
“Ran, stop worrying. Everything is fine.”
“But we should have been there twenty minutes ago,” she pointed out with far more calm than she actually felt. Her hands fidgeted with the straps on her purse for a lack of anything else to do. “Are you sure you know where we’re going?”
She saw his hands tighten on the steering wheel. “Yes. I’m sure.”
“Why don’t we stop and ask for directions?” she suggested in spite of her better judgment, already sure that she knew what the response was going to be.
It came, exactly as she expected it to. “Ran, I’ve got it all under control! So just relax!”
Ran sighed and leaned back against her seat, giving up. She began mentally counting down the minutes that were being lost to Shinichi’s stubbornness, and imagining the more enjoyable activities that could be occupying this time. All she could do now was wait and see what happened, although she was ninety-nine percent sure that she knew exactly how this was going to end.
And it was not going to be pretty. For Shinichi, at least.
Sure enough, a good fifteen minutes later, Shinichi pulled into a gas station and parked and stopped the car. He kept his hands and gaze both firmly on the steering wheel in front of him, and did not look at her. He also was uncharacteristically quiet.
And Ran had to say it. She tried valiantly to resist the urge, but in the end she just could not help herself. “You have everything under control, you said?” For some reason, she was taking a certain amount of fiendish delight in watching him squirm as he realized his mistake. It was so rare an occasion when he made a mistake of this size, and she found herself taking a sadistic pleasure in watching the all-perfect detective be brought down a couple of notches.
The glare Shinichi threw her could have frozen water. “Would you mind just asking for directions?”
She decided to take pity on him. “Oh, all right.” She put her hand on the car door, then paused and threw out one last jab. “But if we blow a flat, I’m taking a taxi and you’re walking home, dear.”
Aoko had a temper. This had always been the case. From the time they first met when they were five years old, Kaito had known that she could get very fired up about things. And he had learned shortly thereafter that she was funny (and also rather pretty) when she was all riled up like that, and so made it his life’s mission to annoy her as much as possible.
But sometimes he would pull something, and belatedly realize that he had gone too far or inadvertently pushed the wrong button. And when those things happened, he would be appropriately apologetic and try to make things right. After all, he liked to tease. He wasn’t cruel.
…well, not intentionally, anyway.
But apparently that little trick with the shoe horn and the red oven mitt had been a bit too much, and Aoko was furious almost to the point of tears. She was screaming and red-faced and furious, and Kaito really felt bad. He had gone too far, and he was going to swallow his pride and attempt to apologize as soon as Aoko stopped to take a breath (she had been going for six minutes and twenty-six seconds without breaking for air, and was still going).
But at the same time, if Aoko kept going like this…he had the feeling that someone was going to get hurt in some way or another. He had actually noticed Aoko eyeing a few heavy items in the room, and her hands were twitching as though she was just dying to lay them around his neck and squeeze. And she was not stopping for air. This was not good at all!
Finally, for a lack of any other options, he jumped up and grabbed her shoulders. The motion was enough to momentarily startle her into silence. “Aoko!” he said, taking advantage of the fact that she was inhaling. “I’m sorry! Just…relax!”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized that he could not possibly have said anything worse. Aoko’s eyes grew wide, and her face flushed an even deeper shade of red. Her hands clenched into fists, and she started to shake, like a washing machine on spin cycle. For a lack of anywhere else to hide, Kaito ducked behind the couch and put his arms over his head to wait out the imminent explosion.
It came.
In a torrent of swearing that would probably have the neighbors gossiping for weeks.
Somewhere amidst all that, he was able to discern actual words—something about how he seemed to think she was overreacting or being irrational, but in fact he was a complete CENSORED and he had no right to say anything like that and she was not overreacting because goddammit, had he SEEN what he did to her closet and she was never going to get the carpet clean after that idiotic prank he pulled!
Kaito made a mental note to be extra nice to Aoko for a while.
Or else.
A lifetime of friendship had afforded Heiji some insight as to some of Kazuha’s behaviors depending on her moods. Whether or not he actually paid attention to those insights…well, that depended. He really only listened to those insights on days that didn’t end in Y.
But either way, this knowledge came into play at the strangest moments, both before they had started dating and long after their romantic relationship had gotten underway and started developing. Kazuha had gone out earlier, saying that she had an appointment to get her hair cut, and then she was going to run a couple of errands.
He waved her off with an obligatory jab about how a haircut wasn’t going to help, and she called him an ahou before giving him a kiss goodbye and taking her leave. Theirs was definitely an odd relationship, by almost any standards, but it worked for them, and they were both extremely happy .
But at the moment, he became aware that there was something seriously wrong. And he came to this conclusion by nature of the fact that when Kazuha came back from her trip that day, she did something that was not of her normal habit. Usually when she walked back in, she would open the door and call out a greeting as she closed it. She would normally talk to him from the entryway as she took her shoes off before coming in properly to talk to him face to face.
This time, however, he heard the door open, and then he heard it slam shut. Bad sign right there. But the fact that she hadn’t even called out an obligatory “I’m home!” or any such thing was another interesting sign. Either she was trying to sneak in (possibly with something for him), or something had gone awry during her day. The slamming of the door seemed to negate the possibility of her trying to be stealthy, as he was pretty sure they heard that crash in Scotland.
And then she walked into his line of sight—or rather, through it. She seemed to be a woman on a mission, storming towards her room with her fists clenched and her face a flushed mask of rage. But it was enough for him to see that something was different: her hair was shorter. Like, a LOT shorter. It wasn’t that it looked bad, necessarily. But Kazuha had spent much of her life growing her hair out and wearing it in that ponytail. She could be a little bit vain about her hair.
And without even bothering with something as trivial as thinking before he spoke, Heiji piped up with what seemed like an innocent question. “What did you do to your hair?”
Kazuha froze in the doorway of her bedroom; Heiji swore he could hear brakes screeching.
She turned and marched back to him, leaning down so she was looking him straight in the eye, and putting one arm on either side of him so he had no escape. “Listen up, ahou,” she growled. “I didn’t do ANYTHING to my hair. That idiot at the salon did this to my hair. Because apparently, a trim translates to several inches. So I’ll thank you to keep your goddamn mouth shut!”
With that, she stormed back to her room and slammed that door as well. Heiji was left sitting there, contemplating how close to death he had really come, and mentally adding that particular question to his list of things he should not say to Kazuha.
Let it never be said that the boy couldn’t be taught.
The minute the words popped out of his mouth, Shinichi regretted them. He put his hands over his mouth, wishing and praying that he could somehow take them back and hide them away forever, but it was too late. The damage was done.
And Ran was staring at him like he had just told her he was in love with Kaitou Kid.
This whole thing had started out so innocently, so simply, so not confrontational. Ran had wanted to go shopping, and he had agreed (albeit a bit begrudgingly) to go with her. When they had gotten to the store, she had immediately led the way to a certain department (one that was soon to become extremely relevant to their interests), and then...
She had undergone a change. A transformation, happening before his very eyes.
His sweet, calm, sensible Ran had started squealing.
And all Shinichi could do was stand there and watch, horrified, as she started bouncing around the department, picking up various small articles of clothing and hurrying back over to eagerly show him what she had found and gushing about how adorable it was before tossing it to him and rushing to the next thing to catch her eye while babbling on excitedly.
Shinichi privately blamed the hormones. That had to be it. There was simply no other explanation as to why he would be left standing here, holding a pile of clothes that increased in size every time she returned to where he was standing, and watching her scurry around like an attention deficit five-year-old hyped up on sugar.
“What about this one, Shin-chan?” she bubbled, her eyes sparkling as she held up yet another hanger with yet another small outfit hanging from it. “Isn’t it cute?”
It was the nickname that did it. She had used it before (usually in VERY private moments, though), but to hear her say that god-awful nickname in public like that…the words were past his lips before he could even think about them and reason out that what he was about to say was probably not a good thing.
“You’re acting just like my mother!”
When he realized that her chin was quivering (goddamn hormones and the mood swings they wrought!) he quickly tried to amend, “I mean, err, not like that’s necessarily a bad thing! I—it was the nickname, you know how Mom is when she gets excited, and I…I…” His shoulders slumped. “I’m not making this any better, am I?”
Ran sniffled. “I’m just excited…the baby…” She toyed with one little sleeve.
Desperate and guilty (and hell, even desperately guilty), Shinichi glanced at the nearest rack. By a quick shifting of the pile in his arms, he grabbed a hanger and held it out. “H-how about this one?”
“You are the cream of my corn!”
Aoko stared. “What?”
“You are the apple of my pie!”
She blinked. “Kaito, what are you doing?”
He leaned across the table towards her, grinning. “Oh, pearl of my oyster!”
Now she raised an eyebrow as comprehension dawned. “What is this, bad pick-up line day?”
“Your graphics are so beautiful that they rival Doom 3!” he crooned.
“…wait, what?” Aoko gaped.
“You complete me.”
“You’re joking, right?” Aoko resisted the urge to plant her face into the tabletop. Apparently, Kaito had decided that he was going to try some pick-up lines (possibly the worse, the better) and she was the guinea pig. It was official: her best friend was a moron.
“The voices in my head told me to come over here and talk to you.”
“Oh my god…”
“Excuse me, miss, but I seem to have lost my phone number. Can I borrow yours?”
“Kaito.”
“What’s your sign?”
“Kaito.”
“You must be an adverb, because you sure do modify me!”
“Kaito!”
“If I were an enzyme, I’d be DNA helicase so I could unzip your genes.”
“Kaito!” Aoko said sternly, and he fell silent; she gave him a look to hide the fact that she was trying to figure out what the hell that last one was. “Stop being an idiot and listen. If you really want to get a girl’s attention, don’t be so insincere. We’ve all seen the movies. We know the lines. Just…be honest and be sincere. That’s all you have to do.” She took a bite of her sandwich. “Trust me on that.”
He stared at her for a long moment. Then he smiled. “Okay then. Will you go out with me?”
Heiji was watching her.
Kazuha calmly scooped up another spoonful of ice cream from the cardboard tub in her hand and popped it into her mouth, quietly reveling in the delicious taste of chocolate and cookie dough melting on her tongue. This was a happy, happy thing.
…but Heiji was still watching her with that look of his. She had a sixth sense for things like that. The look he was wearing was one that meant he was about to ask something incredibly stupid, and she was going to have to take her attention away from her precious, precious ice cream to roll her eyes at him and call him an ahou. And then she would be annoyed, and she would have to let her dear friends, Ben and Jerry, cheer her back up with their fudge brownie and chocolate chip cookie dough goodness.
Unfortunately, she was not to be left in peace to enjoy the tasty treat that she was happily eating straight out of the carton. Heiji had something to say, and he was going to say it, no matter how much of an idiot he made himself seem.
“Do you really think you should be eating that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Try as she might, though, Kazuha just couldn’t muster up the appropriate rage for the question. The ice cream was just too good, and apparently frozen treat nirvana could counteract even Heiji’s most moronic moments. “Yes. I should,” she said flatly, spooning up more ice cream.
“Are you sure?” he persisted.
“Yes. I am.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Now stop asking. You’re annoying me,” she took another bite.
“…didn’t you say you were giving it up?” Heiji still continued to bother her.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m eating it now,” she said.
“But—“
“Would you like this spoon in a very uncomfortable place, Heiji?”
“…no.”
“Then shut up and let me eat my ice cream.”
PS. The companion piece to the previous story. Taken from that same MSN article. I did have a lot of fun coming up with really bad pick-up lines for Kaito to say to Aoko, although he suddenly decided to turn all sweet at the end of it. That was just fun. Anyway, thanks for reading, all! Much love!
