Chapter Text
It’s official. He likes Haibara. He likes how she tucks her hair behind her ear, her soft smile as she indulges Ayumi, her motherly scolding of Genta and Mitsuhiko, how she hums while she cooks stew for the Professor, her manic giggles when she grabs the last piece of Higo merch; whether he’s Kudo Shinichi or Edogawa Conan, there’s no doubt about it.
There’s no reason to try and rationalize these feelings of his, he’s wasted plenty of time denying reality. These emotions weren’t fleeting or fueled by hormones. He can’t lie to himself any longer; this urge to lean up against Haibara is nothing but pure love that grew and grew and grew until he could no longer control how he looked at her.
He has only one problem. Shinichi’s pretty sure Haibara Ai wouldn’t date him even if he was the last man on earth.
“There’s only one thing I can do. I gotta woo her.”
Shinichi ignores Otchan’s judging stare and begins to plan the ultimate takedown of his very own Irene Adler.
Ai used to hate Mondays because she couldn’t sleep in after staying up until the early hours of the morning trying to find an antidote for Kudo-kun, but now she hates Mondays for the same reason as everyone else. Mondays are Mondays, therefore they suck. Simple as that.
This Monday however, is particularly frustrating for a completely different reason. It had nothing to do with the day of the week and everything to do with a certain detective. Her partner keeps sneaking glances at her and she can’t figure out what he means no matter how hard she tries to rack her brain. Edogawa Conan and Haibara Ai are known to be able to understand each other with a glance, but that isn’t always the case. Sometimes, like this particular Monday morning, something shields the meaning held behind those fake lenses.
She was planning on asking Edogawa-kun what the hell was up with him during lunch, but first she’s going to have to go and buy something to eat. Ai’s been forgetting to pack her lunch recently, so she’s begun to carry enough money to get a yakisoba bun or a melon pan.
There’s only one problem, she finds as she riffles through her coat pocket. Her fingers poke out through a hole and it’s clear: Haibara Ai has no money. Her stomach growls.
“Damn it,” she grumbles.
“Uh, you okay Haibara?” Edogawa-kun asks, suddenly appearing in front of her. He’s holding two bento boxes. Ai looks around for the kids, but her friend cuts in. “They already ran off to raid the cart lady’s goods.”
“Oh,” she mumbles. Edogawa-kun scratches the back of his head. He’s sheepish. For what reason, she doesn't know.
“Here!” He thrusts one of the bento-boxes into her arms. “There! You won’t go hungry!” Edogawa-kun looks away, refusing to meet her eyes. Ai looks down at the parcel.
“How’d you know I wouldn’t have money to buy anything today?” She doesn’t think her friend poked a hole through her coat or anything, but it’s still strange.
“If you want to keep gorging yourself on processed food, don’t come crying to me when your hips get too wide,” the detective tells her snidely. Ai can feel her face flush. Damn jerkwad. She’s about to throw the bento back at him, but before she can blink, someone calls out his name and he runs out the door before she can smack him across the face.
Ai sighs and opens the bento. It’s not traditional at all, and on top of that it’s processed. White bread with crunchy peanut butter and blueberry jam in between; it’s not healthy at all. She bites into it and smiles. She’s such a fool for this idiotic man in a boy’s body.