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Shinichi seems like a different person when he’s thinking.
The guy Heiji knows outside of cases is brash and inconsiderate, and seems to act without thought half the time—it’s honestly a headache, how often he gets himself into trouble because he refuses to properly size up the situation before diving right in. (Not that Heiji has the right to say anything about that, with his track record. Any time he tries to bring up Shinichi’s near-suicidal impulsiveness, an example of his own lack of foresight and self-preservation is thrown right back.)
So of course, when Shinichi really focuses, it seems almost surreal. His brow furrows, hand coming up to his chin like a wise sage from some classic movie, and those who listen closely can hear him softly muttering to himself as he works things out.
The expression isn’t restricted to cases, either. He wears it whenever he’s stumped, which happens from time to time in daily life; It’s happening now, as he holds his coffee in one hand and an open mystery novel in the other, surprisingly one that he hasn’t read before. The author must be pretty clever, too, if the way Shinichi is desperately trying to find the culprit is any indication—though Heiji doesn’t doubt that he’ll have the answer soon.
They’re at some pretentious cafe, where the drinks are way too expensive and the furniture is outdated and mismatched in a way that’s supposed to be stylish, because Shinichi insists they have the best coffee in the world. Heiji just thinks that he likes reading on this particular couch, because of the nice lighting and white noise of chatter. He probably secretly enjoys the image of it, too, sitting on vintage furniture in a local cafe while sipping a drink with a name that’s three syllables too long—but if Heiji brought that up, he’d be facing a proverbial couch of his own, so he keeps quiet.
This image is worth coming, anyway. Since Shinichi has both hands full, there’s no finger covering his lips in that usual thoughtful pose, so Heiji can fully make out the way his teeth lightly toy with the edge of his lower lip as he thinks. It’s too simple of an action to make Heiji’s heart ache the way it does, but he’s used to that by now.
Looking at his lips gives him the inevitable urge to kiss him, and he leans in to do so, but Shinichi just moves away and turns to give him a glare. “I’m trying to focus,” he says, and Heiji sighs and pulls back.
“Tell me about your book,” he says, giving up on the kiss but not the entire prospect of interacting. He has the newspaper open in his lap, but he’s already read the funnies about ten times, and as entertaining as it is to watch Shinichi, talking sounds a lot better. Shinichi seems hesitant, so he adds, “maybe I can help ya figure it out.”
That makes Shinichi scoff, as expected. “If I can’t get it yet, I doubt you’ll be able to,” he says, but he leans closer anyway, giving Heiji a better view of the page he’s on.
He gets his kiss later, when Shinichi finally decides he’s ready to leave, and not even the lingering taste of overpriced coffee can ruin it.
—
Heiji is convinced that Shinichi has absolutely no concern for his own future.
You’d think a guy who’s supposedly such a genius would at least have some amount of foresight, but Shinichi barely had a plan when they graduated high school. He applied to a university seemingly on a whim, after hearing that it was Heiji’s dream school—honestly, Heiji still doesn’t know if he did it because he wanted to be close to him or if he just wanted to piss him off by getting in without even trying. Either way, both goals were achieved.
Of course, just getting into a school did nothing to make him any more ambitious. Actually, he seems to have gotten worse since they moved in together and started attending classes, purely out of a stubborn urge to do the opposite of whatever Heiji tells him.
“If ya don’t get up in five minutes, I’m leaving without ya,” he says, standing in the doorway of their bedroom at the lump of blankets that his boyfriend has taken hostage. He’s tried it all before—shining a light in his face, playing loud music, lifting the mattress on its side so that he tumbles out of bed—but at this point he knows it isn’t worth it. They’re both aware that Shinichi is wide awake at this point, and that he’s just pretending to sleep in because he can’t be bothered to go to their class.
As expected, Shinichi doesn’t budge at the warning, and Heiji leans on the doorframe and thinks through his options. Getting Shinichi to do what he wants is a bit like training a cat; Difficult, but possible. And, just like a cat, he responds a lot better to a treat than he does to punishment.
Heiji sighs and walks over to the side of the bed, pulling back the covers just enough to see Shinichi’s face. He’s got his eyes squeezed shut, but he still grunts in annoyance at being pulled out of the blanket's warmth. Heiji allows himself a moment of fondness, reaching down to brush back the strands of hair that fall into his forehead before leaning in to kiss him on the newly exposed space.
“Alright,” he says, “I give up. Get some rest, at least. I’ll text ya when I get to class.” He pulls back and heads to the door, pausing before he passes the threshold to look back.
“Oh, but I’m gonna try that new bakery down the street before I head to campus, so don’t worry if it takes me longer than usual to get there. I heard they have the best lemon pie, and I wanna try it before it’s sold out for the day.”
He turns to leave and barely makes it three steps when he hears the rustling of covers and Shinichi stepping into his slippers; Before he can turn back, he’s being shoved aside as his boyfriend passes him on a path to the bathroom with a bundle of fresh clothes under his arm. “I’ll be ready to go in three minutes,” he says over his shoulder, and slams the door shut.
When he comes out, almost exactly three minutes later, he looks way too prim to be just out of bed. It almost pisses Heiji off, but he’s more relieved that his covert bribery worked. Shinichi races out of the apartment, a man on a mission, and Heiji rolls his eyes and follows after him.
“You’re paying for the pie,” Shinichi says as he looks over at Heiji, an excited glint in his eye. Heiji wonders, in the back of his head, if this counts as a win or a loss. He decides to call it even when Shinichi reaches out and takes his hand.
—
“We’re not going.”
“C’mon, it’s right down the road-“
“Heiji, no.”
“It’s the world’s largest artichoke! We’re never gonna see that kind of thing back home!”
Shinichi turns to glare at him. “What in the world would ever compel anyone to want to see a giant artichoke statue-”
“Shit—eyes on the road!” Heiji reaches out to grab the steering wheel just in time to stop Shinichi from veering into the highway median. He has a lot of choice words about Shinichi’s driving that he can’t wait to let loose when they’re done with this trip, but he keeps them to himself now, just sighing in relief when the car returns to its course.
Shinichi is unphased, though he’s focusing on the road a bit better now, at least. “We’re only a few hours from my parents’ place,” he says. “I know you’re nervous or whatever, but we can’t just delay things by stopping at every attraction-”
“I’m not nervous,” Heiji says, and he can feel the disbelief permeating off of Shinichi. “I mean, seriously, I’m fine—why would I be nervous?”
“Because it’s your first time meeting my parents,” he says, “and you’ve psyched yourself out over it so much that you’re being stupid.”
Heiji turns to look out the window just to hide his pout. “It’s not stupid to be concerned about what they’ll think,” he mutters.
They’ve been dating for a long time, now—too long, according to the chatty one of Shinichi’s friends, who constantly drops hints for them as if she’s the one waiting on a ring—but they’ve never found the time to make the trip to America together, and so Shinichi’s parents have remained largely a mystery to Heiji. He’s picked up enough details to be anxious, though, and he can’t imagine what they’ll think; These two posh celebrities, the masterminds behind both the smartest and most arrogant person he knows? It seems impossible that he’ll actually be able to impress them.
He shrinks further into his seat just thinking about it. If his parents don’t like him enough, would they make Shinichi break up with him? He doesn’t doubt Shinichi’s feelings, but if it comes down to choosing between him and his family…
Shinichi reaches across the center console and tugs Heiji by the ear, hard enough to get him alert again. “You’re way too in your own head about this,” he says. “My parents already think you’re amazing, it’s impossible for them to dislike you.”
“But-”
“No buts,” he says. “Look- When I fell in love with soccer, my mom came to every game, even when I sucked. When I fell in love with detective work, my dad helped me through every mystery, even when it was tough. And now, I’ve fallen in love with you, and there’s not a chance in hell that they’re going to try and get in the way of that.” He looks over at Heiji, eyebrows slightly raised. “My parents are going to support whatever makes me happy, and right now, that means being with you. Got it?”
Heiji opens his mouth to speak, but he’s cut off by the sound of another car’s horn, and Shinichi cursing under his breath as he narrowly avoids a collision.
He snorts and leans back in his seat. This guy really is going to be the death of him, he thinks, a little too fondly.
He’s definitely not letting him drive on the way back.
—
Somewhere in their apartment, Heiji can hear a clock ticking.
The sound is enough to distract him from the task at hand—though that’s not especially hard to achieve, considering there isn’t anything tantalizing about going through their monthly budget. It is strange, though, when he doesn’t recall ever owning a clock. Maybe it’s in Shinichi’s office? That was what the second room in their new apartment became, when they couldn’t find any other use for it, even though Shinichi never does any actual work in there. It’s more or less just a place for him to store his books, so Heiji has no reason to enter it. He doesn’t know why Shinichi would bother to put a clock in there, though-
On the other side of the kitchen table, Shinichi slams his hands down among the scattered bills and receipts. “Inspector Ayanokoji,” he says, with a little too much intensity.
Heiji stares at him for a moment, before realizing that Shinichi isn’t going to add any context on his own. “Huh?”
“Inspector Ayanokoji,” he repeats, a little quieter but with just as much seriousness in his tone. He’s looking at Heiji with wide eyes, like he just had a realization. “You remember that story I was telling you last week, about that case from a couple years ago? And how I knew who the other detective that was there was, but I couldn’t remember his name? It was Ayanokoji.”
He continues to stare him down, like this is some life-changing information. “Okay,” Heiji says, “uh, cool.” He looks back down at their list of expenses, doing his best to start again where he left off.
He doesn’t make it too far before looking back up at him, though. “...And so last week, when ya were trying to let me know who ya were talking about, ya didn’t think to mention the fact that it was the only inspector in all of Japan who walks around with a chipmunk?”
Shinichi takes a second to reply. “Okay, well, I didn’t think you would remember that part about him-”
“Ya thought I would forget the chipmunk guy? Seriously, you thought that little detail was gonna slip my mind?”
“Look-”
“Ya spent ten minutes goin’ in circles trying to describe him as ‘that guy with the gray suit’ like that was his most defining characteristic, and ya wanna tell me now that it was the man who carries around a chipmunk in his pocket?”
Once again, Shinichi pauses, while Heiji just stares at him. After a few seconds, he reaches across the table to point at the list of figures that Heiji has written out. “You got the cost for our rent wrong,” he says, “it went up in our latest bill. We need to remember to budget around that.” Then, he looks back to his own notepad, as if the last minute’s conversation never happened.
Heiji sighs and scratches out the wrong number before searching the table for the bill in question.
He’s absolutely bringing this one up again, but he’s willing to call a truce until they’re out of budgeting hell.
—
Heiji is like, 90% sure that Shinichi is mad at him.
He doesn’t actually know why, and he’s been racking his brain for some kind of reason on this entire grocery trip. Shinichi has barely spoken to him since they left the house, and he’s checked his phone just about every thirty seconds since they got to the store. Heiji would chalk it up to him just being preoccupied with something else, usually, but this is the first time he’s ever gotten away with putting pizza rolls in the cart without Shinichi putting them back, and he has no justification for that behavior. His hands stay in his cardigan pockets for most of the trip, too, not once emerging to link with Heiji’s, which has to mean that something is wrong.
He’s at least smart enough by now to not ask about it in public, because if Shinichi is so upset that he’s not even trying to drop passive-aggressive hints, he has no idea what kind of conversation is about to be in store. That means an agonizingly silent trip home, though, and Heiji is more on-edge than he ever remembers being when they step inside.
He’s already moving on auto-pilot to take off his sneakers, until he hears whispered voices from the living room. He stands back up and stumbles in with one shoe still on, wondering in the back of his mind why a burglar couldn’t have picked a day where he wasn’t already dealing with a pissed off boyfriend-
The light clicks on as he stumbles in, and a discordant greeting sounds out from the group of friends standing inside. Kazuha and Ran both set off party poppers, and the sound makes his blood run cold. Shit, that’s why Shinichi’s mad, he forgot his birthday.
Except, no, it’s not even May, and if Heiji didn’t plan a surprise party then there’s no way these people would be in their apartment for Shinichi. Naturally, that would mean the surprise is on him, but Heiji knows it’s not his birthday, either, and there isn’t anything else to celebrate.
He turns around to look at Shinichi, and finds him on one knee.
“Holy shit,” Heiji mutters under his breath.
Shinichi raises an eyebrow. “So,” he says, “I know I don’t have a ring, but-”
“The answer is yes, obviously,” he replies, “now get us, asshole-” he grabs Shinichi by the arm, pulling him upright and into a kiss.
It seems to catch him off guard, which Heiji thinks is decent payback for this whole ordeal, though he pulls back when he remembers that half their friends are watching. Shinichi laughs a little breathlessly and gives him a stupid smile.
“Thank god that’s over with,” Shinichi mumbles, eyes closing as he leans in to rest his forehead against Heiji’s. “Trying to keep a surprise from a detective is exhausting.”
“Yeah, ya did a terrible job,” Heiji says, laughter seeping into his voice. “I knew something was up the minute we left today.” He neglects to tell him how far off his guesses about the actual reasoning were, of course.
“Right, whatever,” Shinichi mumbles, giving him a light shove to the chest. As he pulls back, his gaze lingers on Heiji for just a moment longer—there’s a fondness in his eyes that Heiji knows far too well, and he has to be the luckiest man on earth, to have been looked at like this by Shinichi so often that he’s memorized the way his expression goes soft.
He reaches out for Heiji’s hand and tugs him along to approach the onlookers—Sonoko has her phone out to record, and Shinichi snatches it from her hand. “Alright, I said you guys could be here for it, but you don't need to get it all on video. And you better be willing to clean up that confetti, since you insisted on bringing party poppers when I told you not to-”
Heiji sighs, shakes his head. He squeezes Shinichi’s hand, and though he’s distracted with chewing the rest of the group out, Shinichi returns the gesture, the simplest way in the world of saying that he’s loved—as if Heiji doesn’t already know.