#miyano’s heart must be made of steel | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

multiply014 · 6 years

Text

Greeting

Messages (and the fic) for GuyFreakz, @ranchan13 and @momocicerone under the cut.

Fandom (Pairing): DCMK (CoAi) Title: Greeting Summary (Word Count): A polite word or sign of welcome or recognition. A formal expression of goodwill. (885) Links: AO3 and FF

For GuyFreakz: free time is something I’m in dire need of… Your message was such a pleasant surprise though! Logged in to my account after a century, saw it, and almost cried. I’m inept with technology in general so I’m replying here: I hope the very short story under the cut (which I wrote for a dear friend) is something you’ll enjoy too!

For @ranchan13: aww, sorry I wasn't able to write recently! Thanks for telling me to write! I think I suck at writing, so you telling me to write is something my dear heart loves. You are a precious person and I hope someone makes you as happy as you make me when I read your comments!

And, for dear friend @momocicerone: forgive me for being late, and for vanishing. I'm still swamped by life, but I didn't want to break a promise (though, I technically already did… feelsbadman). Happy birthday and happy holidays! Hoping that in every day (and I wish you more days, months, years, decades!) there will always be at least one thing to make you smile. Here’s to hoping I’m able to do so today, with this long overdue gift.

P.S. @/gosho: As long as we're here, canon can't sink our ship! Or, well, it's already sunk so hard, it can't sink any deeper... (bitter laugh) I’m still not bailing. After all, the most wonderful things grow from shipwrecks. :P

Greeting

Hearing a clatter of steel and loud yelp, Miyano Shiho reaches for her bedside table, body poised in defense, as her squinting eyes peek through the ajar door. After a few seconds, her mind replays the voice, and the timbre registers--he’s here again.

She relaxes her posture and closes the drawer, her heart taking a few more seconds to calm. She idly thinks that she must have looked every bit part of the police force that she is, if only she didn’t sport her bedridden hair, wear the admittedly scant nightwear she recently received but can’t remember getting into, and, just generally look quite hung over.

An uncharacteristic blush graced her features, but she willed it away, catching another sharp cry from the kitchen. Sometimes she wonders why she’s still woken up by this, when it’s been weeks since it’s been almost a daily occurrence.

Today, though, instead of going back to sleep as she’d done the past times, she wipes her eyes, musses her hair, grabs a shirt and opens the door. Because she doesn’t run away. Not anymore.

“Good morning to you, too, Kudo-kun,” she greets the trespasser. He jumps at her voice, and visibly backs away when he sees her. His face, a bit flushed. His eyes, looking over to the side, then back at her, then back to the side. She doesn’t notice--she yawns.

“I-”

“Kit’s at the left cabinet, but you already knew that, right?” she states, not expecting confirmation.

“I’m fine, I don’t need the kit.” He looks at his hands.

She walks over to the left cabinet. “Says the one with severed fingers.”

“They’re perfectly intact.” He looks over to the sink, watching her from his periphery.

She goes to fetch the first aid kit. “Then let’s sever one.”

He quirks an eyebrow at her. “No, thank you.”

She opens the box. “Or two.”

An exasperated expression takes over his features. “Nope.”

“Shut up and give me your hand before I prepare for amputation instead.”

Obediently, he goes over to her and gives her his hand. He gives another yelp, his eyes wide, shouting, “What the hell, Haibara?!” as she put just a little too much disinfectant, and pressed really hard on his cut.

“That’s for trespassing.”

“What the hell--”

“Done,” she declares and smiles angelically. “Now you just owe me breakfast and Burberry. Thank the gods for my benevolence, right?” she continues.

“You- Haibara- Honestly- Ugh...” he groans.

She smirks.

He can feel himself giving in. He tells himself it’s a special occasion anyway--what’s a purse and a coat? He tells himself it’s because he hasn’t talked with her this long, hasn’t seen her this long for quite some time. Not this kind, where she comes to him on his own accord. In his mind, he takes a photo of her as she is right now. His heart suddenly hurts, and he tries to quiet it--no, she’s here, she’s not going away, she’s here, and I’m here.

He says, almost too quietly, “I can never win over you, can I?”

She understands. In his stare and in how his eyes had suddenly become too bright. In how his hands silently balled themselves into a fist. In how his amused smile now hinted sadness. Longing? Fear? She doesn’t understand everything but she understands enough to say, “You can keep trying.”

She continues, in a matter-of-fact tone, “Just so you know, I’ll have the lock replaced today--” he looks at her so quickly, and just as swiftly looks down, dejected, biting his lip.

“--And I’ll give you a duplicate. So stop sneaking in.”

He lifts his head, incredulous, hopeful eyes as big as saucers just gazing at her.

“But don’t you dare live here. And never go in my room. You have your own mansion, Kudo-kun, don’t force me to file a restraining order against you.”

“I’ll never--!”

“And,” she continues. At the back of her mind, she’s proud that she’s mastered the art of cutting him off mid-sentence.

“And, umm, Kudo-kun,” she says, hesitantly. His interest piqued, he doesn’t say anything, and just stares as he waits.

She holds out her hand to him, her stare focused slightly to the side--and is that a slight blush? She blinks and trains her eyes on his, slowly, then greets, “Miyano Shiho, Forensics.”

He takes her hand. He supposes he should have been confused, but to him it made perfect sense. Cute. He replies, “Kudo Shinichi, detective.”

And in a way that always made him feel stupid, she laughs and admonishes him, “Assistant Police Inspector Kudo, was that just now still how you introduce yourself?”

Not cute at all! He pouts, a bit annoyed at how this moment makes him so stupidly happy, and chooses to reply, “Stupid. A detective is a detective.” He inwardly cringes at how dumb that sounded, but--

“Yes, yes, detective.”

Ah, he missed her.

He missed her so much.

He hopes she wouldn’t go away again.

He hopes she won’t be scared away by how he suddenly pulled her forward, into his arms. (Hey?!)

He hopes she wouldn’t struggle against his hug. (Kudo-kun?!)

He hopes she wouldn’t mind how tight he’d wrapped himself around her. (...)

He can’t lose her again. Not anymore. “I’ll just find you again, you know.” (...)

(I know.)

#x writes #dcmk #coai #x dcmk snap

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