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"First of all," Kid announced, holding up one hand to silence Conan before he could speak, "I am not drunk."
Conan allowed his eyes to travel from Kid's flushed face, down to the three empty bottles at his feet, and by the time his gaze made it back to where he'd started, the thief's shoulders had slackened some, his posture one of defeat more than defence. And he hadn't even had to say a word.
"Okay, second of all," he began again, "I was not stalking you."
"So you just happened to find me while I was hanging around a derelict mansion?" Conan raised one sceptical eyebrow, and folded his arms across his chest. Granted, the effect of sternness was probably lost given that he was less than half the height of Kid, and had to strain his neck to look him in the face. "That could be dangerous information."
He didn't seem to have a response for that one, either.
"Third of all," Kid continued instead, eyes towards the sky - avoiding Conan's withering gaze, probably. Good. That meant it was working. "I did not steal the fireworks. I put the money in the register."
"Which doesn't make it any less illegal."
Conan watching Kid, Kid watching the sky; both bodies shrouded in the darkness of almost-midnight, the fenced-off garden of the Kudo mansion shielding them for any prying eyes - or so Conan hoped.
The one night - the night of parties and kisses and experiences that his current condition was holding him back from, the night that just seemed to rub it in - the one night he'd risked coming here, seeking refuge and solitude, was also the night the Kaitou Kid had decided to show up on his doorstep, alcohol on his breath and posture a little wobbly, because just his luck, the thief was apparently celebrating New Year's Eve the modern way.
Kid only sighed under Conan's scrutiny, and slipped his hands into his pockets. "Tantei-kun," he said, softly.
And Conan had been ready to walk right back inside and slam the door in Kid's face until it dawned on him; the only reason why Kid would ever to come him, the only real reason.
He'd memorized every detail of Kid's psychological profile, but there were so many gaping holes - and from the stories passed around the Tokyo police station, Hakuba hadn't danced around the subject of how little they knew about the Kaitou Kid.
Little personal things, like how many friends he kept; or how many of those friends he could reasonably trust.
"One thing I'll never understand," Conan said, sitting himself down on the porch steps and softening his gaze a little, though making sure to keep it strictly in disapproving-glare territory, "is why so many people seek me out when they want a heart-to-heart." He rested his chin in his palm. "I mean, I'm six."
"And yet, you always seem to handle it." Without invitation, Kid took a seat next to him. "I've seen the way you listen to people. You could be an empath."
Conan had seen him close enough to touch on many occasions, of course, but never quite like this. Never drunk, of course, but also, never still. He was always doing something; darting in and out of range, playing a persona, picking a lock, delivering a monologue. Now, he only sat. It made him more of a tangible person, more within reach than Conan had even thought possible.
Not that there was any point in trying to make a grab for him. He could escape handcuffs easily, and he'd no doubt magick the DNA evidence away with him as he went.
"Definitely not an empath. Just the neighbourhood trustworthy grade-schooler." While he was talking, Kid produced another bottle from seemingly nowhere. Small and slim, with fiercely blue liquid inside, almost the same colour as the band of his hat. He removed the lid with little trouble, and Conan perked up at the sight. "Can I have some of that?"
Kid considered him for a long while, surprise fading into mild amusement. "Your parents would kill me." Conan opened his mouth to protest (a swift "my parents live overseas, they'd never know!" in his best innocent-little-bouzu voice should do the trick), but Kid continued, "And of all the laws I came here to break, that isn't one of them."
Conan leaned back, bracing himself with his hands behind him, palm down on the porch. "Now I'm interested."
"Alright." Kid took in a breath. "So, there's this girl."
Conan couldn't help but roll his eyes.
"And," he pressed on, quickly. "There's this... guy."
Conan blinked, several times. Kid only looked back at him (at him, for the first time all night), until Conan cleared his throat and said, "Unless you're planning to murder them both, this is out of my area of expertise."
"Morbid." Kid's grin showed his teeth, but no mirth at all. "But no, it's worse." Again, he looked at Conan, meaningfully, with his one visible eye. "They're together, actually."
"Ah." Conan could only watch as Kid sighed, and then downed the entirety of his drink. It left a fruity scent in the air, mingling with the bitter tang of alcohol.
"I was not stalking you," he continued abruptly, "but I checked in on them tonight, and they looked..." Happy, Conan's brain supplied from the look on Kid's face. "And I'm..." Kid gestured to himself, alone, maybe, or sitting on a porch in the middle of the night with a six year old child and a box of fireworks. "It's not jealousy - it's complicated with her, I don't even know if - and he's-" He sighed. "Perfect for her. And also, in general." Kid buried his face in his hands, clearly embarrassed, and groaned. "I'm a schoolgirl."
Conan gave a small, wry smile. "I always knew your civilian life would come as a surprise..."
Kid snorted, with none of his usual grace. "You should tell that to the police," he said, not uncovering his face. "Throw them off my trail."
They let the moment lie for as long as it would; a companionable silence, with Conan wracking his brain for something not-useless to say while Kid, presumably, basked in the fact that he'd just bared his soul to a child detective.
Knowing Kid, it was probably not the strangest thing he'd ever done.
"Well." After some thought, Conan stretched his legs out in front of him, staring at his shoes. "I'm sure you want me to tell you to somehow destroy their relationship and try to seduce one of them in the aftermath, but..."
"No." Conan glanced up just in time to see Kid shaking his head, resolute. "It's not like that."
The response gave Conan pause. All he had to go on was his own tendencies, and on the occasions when he'd even /suspected/ that Ran had been seeing someone, his reactions had been - well, quite fitting for the age he was posing as, if he was honest with himself. He didn't have to fake his open curiosity when he asked, "Then what is it like?"
"When I was watching them..." Kid trailed off into silence, apparently having trouble phrasing the next part. When Conan glanced his way, he noticed a new bottle in his hand - this one candy-apple red. "There was an empty space beside her on the couch, and I couldn't help wondering what it would be like if I was..." This time, his words faded into weak laughter. "This is so depressing."
Conan couldn't disagree, but elected to keep quiet about it. Instead, he nodded to the cardboard box still sitting in the middle of the garden. "That doesn't explain the fireworks at all."
That actually got a smile out of him. "I was going to hijack the show at Beika Park," Kid explained. "But-"
"It doesn't fit your MO," Conan finished for him. Of course, for someone so careful about his public image, it only made sense. "Right."
"I'd hate to confuse any tantei with my antics," he agreed with a short nod. "Not to mention, jewels carry no danger of exploding in people's faces when you mess around with them."
"So you brought them here." Conan gestured vaguely at the house behind him. "To the Kudo mansion."
"To a spacious and empty backyard," Kid corrected, "Which they just happen to be facing at this very moment, as luck would have it. It's just a coincidence that Chibitantei is here, of course," he added with a half-smile and a knowing look that all but stopped Conan's heart in his chest.
Kid's smile faded as he glanced from Conan's face to his bottle, and then back to Conan again, before passing it over with some reluctance. "One sip," he warned, foolishly - for all Conan had to do was bring the glass to his lips and tilt his head back, taking as much as he could in one swallow and trying not to laugh as he did so.
Kid's one visible eye narrowed, and Conan ran his tongue along the roof of his mouth and grimaced. "Cherry?" He shook his head. "Tastes like anti-freeze." Then he gave the bottle back and added, "Thanks."
"Oh dear." Kid finished the bottle himself, then placed it on the ground with all the others. Conan watched silently as he stood, walked over to the box and began rooting around for something - emerging a moment later with scarlet rockets in the spaces between his fingers, all traces of his previous melancholy hidden behind a grin that radiated up-to-no-good. "I feel I might've created a monster."