Non-Challenge: Just You
Title: Just You
Author: ran_mouri82
Word Count: 3511
Rating: T (or Older Teen)
Disclaimer: Detective Conan is pwned by Aoyama Gosho. I only admire his l33t skillz.
Warnings: Rated for discreet sexuality.
Pairings: Kudou Shin'ichi and Mouri Ran
Notes: It was time to remove Ran's wedding veil . . . and all their insecurities. Crossposted to
30kisses under prompt #8 - "our own world".
Just You
Drowsiness weighed on Kudou Shin’ichi’s eyelids, fighting to keep them closed as he blinked and shivered. Half of his chest lay exposed to the surrounding chill that had settled into the suite some time before, but the first thing Shin’ichi sensed, as he breathed deeply and tried to recollect his surroundings, was the fresh scent of hair. A cascade of dark tresses spilled across his neck like silk, pooling as it framed the profile of the slumbering figure beside him; all that peeked from beneath that natural veil was a small hand whose ring, a simple band, shone dull blue in the predawn light.
Blushing slightly, Shin’ichi gave Ran a smile and reached across her back, grasping the quilted comforter and tugging it over her shoulder to restore some warmth to them both. It failed to surprise Shin’ichi when, despite his movement, Ran did not stir or even shift in her deep sleep; his breath caught, instead, when she began to murmur a simple phrase by his ear.
"Fine . . . as you are . . . ."
Oh . . . . A burst of red flared on his cheeks as Ran whispered words that Shin’ichi knew too well. After all, he had said them.
Leaning against the pillows, Shin’ichi tucked a hand behind his head and surveyed the hotel suite with its Victorian furnishings. Turning from the drapes to his right that shut out the brightening sky, he peered thoughtfully at the tall dresser in the far left corner-or rather, beneath it. Their largest suitcase lay flat and unzipped on the plush carpet with much of its contents scattered about in small piles. A few short hours ago, that luggage landed with a thump by the walnut chairs upholstered in ivory and blue embroidery, only to be joined by their five other pieces of luggage and a very nervous bride . . . .
---
"And here we are! Our finest honeymoon suite!" cried the Hotel Flambeau proprietor Kimura Masao, turning the carved brass knob and throwing wide the door. Sweeping to the side, he let the tall, lanky bellhop pass with the luggage cart and, afterward, bowed with showman’s grace as Kudou Shin’ichi and Ran peeked their heads into the room.
Modern architecture aside, the suite first struck Shin’ichi as coming straight from a movie set or museum. The Hotel Flambeau was a relatively new hotel located not far from Beika, but prided itself on appealing to high class customers with old world charm-at least, in the western sense. Pearl, plush carpeting created a cushioned display for the imitation antique, gold-accented furniture, including a large dresser, a sitting area to the right consisting of a table and two chairs, an armoire entertainment center to the left, and a bed against the far wall whose four posts spiraled to almost touch the ceiling.
Shin’ichi groaned. Now he understood why his mother had enthused so much about this place, describing it as the perfect place from him and Ran to stay the night before their flight to England: she was a sucker for Victorian style. Even for a Holmes fan, it was too much.
"Come, come in, my lady!" Kimura said, waddling his stout frame toward Ran and taking her hand with gusto. When she balked and tried to pull it from his strong grip, he blinked, asking, "What’s this? Where’s your lovely wedding ring?"
"I’m w-wearing it underneath my glove so it won’t fall off," Ran replied, in another failed attempt to tug her fingers free.
Letting his thick mustache spread from ear to ear in a grin, Kimura proclaimed, "Then come, no need to be bashful! Come and look around! Drink it all in, for within a lady’s chamber she is the queen!"
Chuckling at the man’s impromptu monologue, Shin’ichi thought, So that’s it. Our discounted rate could only be coming from that dramatic guy because-
"And, furthermore," Kimura concluded, bowing with a flourish before the blushing Ran, "your beauty is more than a fitting addition to the Kudou family."
He knows Mom, Shin’ichi thought, as a sweat drop beaded on his forehead.
Still, despite the lame method of Kimura’s observation, Shin’ichi agreed. Tuning out both the loud thumps of each suitcase as they hit the floor and the proprietor’s bloated speeches, Shin’ichi smiled and trailed behind Ran as she lifted her skirts to step into the room. She still wore her wedding gown of white satin and tulle that billowed to the ground from her ribbed bodice; her veil, flowing from a sparkling tiara, brushed her chin and obscured her waves of thick, dark hair as she laid a hand on one of the bedposts, then stared through the slightly parted curtains. If he had not known Ran all his life, Shin’ichi would declare with a grin that she glided about like an ideal lady.
In fact, as Ran wandered toward the curtains, she almost seemed too ideal. Even with the lights of Tokyo shining against her outline, Shin’ichi’s thoughts drifted to the last time he saw her before the ceremony. From that point on, her posture was tense and her smile like a stiff mask, as if she were posing for an old fashioned photograph.
"Well, now, I’ll leave you two, but be sure to ask for me personally if you need anything," Kimura said at last, with a hearty laugh. Adjusting the tie of his silk suit and tails, which seemed better suited for a ringmaster than a hotel proprietor, in Shin’ichi’s opinion, he bowed with a spirited wave and departed.
As Shin’ichi craned his neck to watch Kimura bound away to parts unknown, the bellhop bowed slightly and said, "Please enjoy your stay."
Shin’ichi made sure to double his tip-as special thanks for his brevity-before he slipped through the door and shut it behind the newlyweds with a click. Sticking his clammy hands in his tuxedo pockets, Shin’ichi eyed the closing door. Its sound was discreet, and yet it echoed with a knell of finality.
Turning back, Shin’ichi saw Ran do likewise-and their eyes met.
"No, you idiot, I’m not talking about where you’re going to go on your honeymoon," Hattori Heiji chuckled, grinning mischievously. Seagulls mocked the young men from above, catcalling as they swooped over the waves, while Heiji rubbed a headache-inducing fist into Shin’ichi’s head of salty hair. "I mean what are you planning to do?"
"H-Hattori!" Shin’ichi cried, his entire face and torso flushing red. He would not be surprised if the steam from his body sent smoke signals over the rocks where they sat, making Ran and the other girls wonder where the fire was. Pushing Heiji’s arm, he spat, "I would’ve told you if that was any of your business!"
Smirking, Heiji backed away and spread his hands. "Don’t kill me because you’re shy!"
Silence hung like a thick blanket over the suite as Ran and Shin’ichi shifted uncomfortably. While Ran smoothed the folds of her gown, Shin’ichi scratched his head and racked his brain for something intelligent to say. "Er, you want to use the bathroom?"
Ran blinked. "Huh?"
What the hell kind of stupid question was that? Shin’ichi grumbled to himself. "I mean," he tried again, ambling across the room to meet Ran at the bay windows, "you can go ahead first and change, if you want." Goose bumps shot up Ran’s arms at that; her gloves did not reach as far as her elbows, and short sleeves hugged her shoulders, so it would be no surprise to Shin’ichi if she was cold. Reaching with a sigh to rub her bare upper arms, Shin’ichi asked, "You’re probably uncomfortable in that dress, right?"
"No!" Ran cried, throwing her hands up and cringing as a hot blush bloomed on her cheeks. With a sidelong glance, Ran shook her head and giggled, stammering, "I-I mean, you can go ahead."
Letting her arms go, Shin’ichi arched an eyebrow in confusion. "You okay?"
"Of course I’m okay, silly," Ran replied, with trademark cheer, though she fidgeted with her dress’ boning at the same time. Then, she opened her mouth and closed it, meeting his gaze in the soft lamplight. "Um . . . Shin’ichi?"
Then there is something? Shin’ichi wondered, knitting his brow. "Yeah?"
Ran set her jaw and pressed her rose tinted lips in a tight line. Then, she took a deep breath. "W-what do you think of . . . how important is it for-for a wife to please her husband?"
Now Shin’ichi was really puzzled. "What are you talking about?"
"Um . . . n-nothing," Ran replied. A twitch developed in her smile while a fine shade of red spread to the top of her head, threatening to set her veil on fire. "It’s just t-that I should probably get started-sorting my luggage!"
And with that, Ran gathered her skirts again and flitted in a wide arc around the bed to her suitcases in the far corner of the suite, leaving Shin’ichi to stare after her, bewildered. Then, he rubbed his forehead and groaned, wondering if no amount of loving Ran would let him plumb the surface, let alone the depth, of her mystery. Why do women have to be so damn confusing?
"I’ll just be a few minutes, s-so . . . ." Ran called over her shoulder, flashing him the brightest smile before dropping onto her hands and knees-amid flounces and tulle-and unzipping the largest suitcase nearest the dresser.
Her smile . . . just like this morning. Shin’ichi frowned. It was such a short time ago, just before the whirlwind of activity had swept them into the wedding chapel, and then out to the reception with scores of police officers, lawyers, the rich and famous friends of the Kudous, and all their former classmates. Before all of this, Shin’ichi had been pacing the hall with Heiji, his best man, when the door beside him flew open-less than an arm’s length away from whacking him in the head.
"What the . . . ?!" he cried, wobbling on one leg to avoid being run over by a blur of white. The figure halted in her tracks on the floral carpeting and gaped in horror as Shin’ichi straightened, then recognized her. "Ran?"
"Don’t worry, ‘Neechan," Heiji said, grabbing Shin’ichi in a choke hold with a puckish grin. "He needed the distraction."
"Shut up, Hattori," Shin’ichi grumbled, through gritted teeth.
Holding a graceful hand to her lips, Ran’s panicked expression softened. Shin’ichi and Ran stared at each other then, and it felt as if, for a split second, she lowered her guard so only he could peer through that dark window into her soul-right before she closed the shutters.
"Sorry anyway, Shin’ichi," Ran said, looking away with a giggle. "I was, um, just going to check on something . . . but it can wait until later." Backing slowly toward the door, she turned the knob and stepped inside, flashing him a smile that glittered with contentment.
"Hey, Hattori, you think she’s alright?" Shin’ichi muttered, after Ran closed the bridal chamber door behind her. He knew that joy always exuded from Ran like a scent; it never sparkled like a toothpaste ad.
"Eh, she’ll be fine. I’m sure it’s just jitters," Heiji replied, whacking Shin’ichi between the shoulder blades. Chuckling, he added, "You got those too, right?"
"Yeah, I guess so," Shin’ichi murmured aloud, watching Ran rummage through her belongings and fling various items to the ground. Deodorant, unopened cartons of pantyhose, shirts, jeans, striped socks-nothing was safe. All the while, Shin’ichi could not forget the intense bundle of nerves that Ran barely revealed to him. Still . . . this is more than jitters. It has to be.
A thought struck him. Her luggage?
Ignoring the idea that Ran’s suitcase bothered her enough to make her dive into it on their wedding night, since that was ridiculous, Shin’ichi loosened the bow tie around his neck, started to whistle off-key, and padded across the room toward Ran-far enough from the corridor leading into the suite’s bath to make her blink in surprise.
"S-Shin’ichi, what are you doing here?" Ran asked, recovering quickly enough to slam her suitcase shut and offer another twitching smile.
Grasping the handle of his smaller suitcase, one in brown leather to combat the onslaught of pure black, otherwise nondescript luggage, he replied, "You said ‘I do,’ then I said ‘I do’-"
"That’s not what I meant," Ran retorted, plunking her hands on her hips. Her cheeks retained a rosy glow under Shin’ichi’s watchful eye, making her look rather cute.
"Hey, I’d like to see you try brushing your teeth without a toothbrush," Shin’ichi muttered, removing said toothbrush and paste from the front compartment of his bag; then, with sardonic flair, he leaned over Ran with the brush and bonked her on the head. When Ran swiped at the toothbrush while fighting a muffled laugh, he had a feeling that now was as good a time as any to ask. "Why do you want to, uh, sort your things so badly, anyway?"
Ran paused, then shifted and began to play with a corner of her veil. "W-well, we’ll only be here tonight before our flight to England, and because of Sonoko’s slumber party," she quickly added, "I mixed everything together."
Oh, that’s right, Shin’ichi thought, scowling to himself. Because Sonoko gave that party last night way out there in her mountain villa, all the women had to rush to the wedding hall. Scratching his head, he asked, "Why did you agree to go, anyway? Sonoko knows that place freaks you out."
"She kind of kept it a surprise," Ran said with a shudder, gathering some of the ejected clothing into a small pile by her lap. Taking a plain, white towel and folding it, Ran grinned. "Besides, she was only trying to help . . . to be a good friend."
Shin’ichi froze. Sonoko-
"A-actually, Shin’ichi," Ran said, tucking the thick towel with her toothbrush and soap into a smaller travel bag, "if you like, I’ll go change first."
So, it’s probably that, Shin’ichi thought, disbelief tugging his lips into a smile. Leaning forward so shadows obscured his face, he offered an upturned palm to Ran. Blinking, she took it, and coupled with her strength he pulled her to her feet with ease; as she tried to walk past, however, he did not let her go. "Ran, what are you hiding in the bag?"
Startled, Ran tried to pull her hand free, but stopped when Shin’ichi laced his fingers through hers and said, "I’d call you an idiot, if . . . I wasn’t one, too." With a chuckle, he added, "And that doesn’t happen too often, right?"
Swallowing hard, Ran opened her mouth to protest, then sighed. Swinging the aquamarine travel bag in her free hand, the color on her cheeks intensified as she murmured, "You know, I had a feeling that you would figure it out. Before I came back, I mean."
Shin’ichi released her and loosened his collar, feeling sweat drops spring to his forehead. Ran, for her part, chewed her lip when she unzipped the bag and fished for the towel-one that Shin’ichi knew she would not need in this amenities overloaded hotel-unraveling it to reveal a piece of clothing that was small, silky, and red. The thing was stitched in the shape of a bathing suit, but no one could get away with wearing it; vast patches of scarlet lace served as material, letting the lamplight shine through and set it ablaze.
"Uh . . . ." Shin’ichi trembled from head to foot, not so much surprised at seeing the teddy as battling total combustion. Held above the fluffy, white towel between Ran’s hands, the skimpy lingerie would almost have appeared to be a silk and lace bouquet, if it were not tinted such a garish orange. Cursing his vocal chords for not working right, he coughed and stammered, "W-were you, uh, planning to . . . wear it?"
Ran’s shoulders sank then, and she stared at the floor, letting both gloved hands drop with their contents; clutching the fiery teddy in one and the ivory towel in the other, she looked torn. She tried to laugh, but it rose from her lungs like a sigh. "I . . . don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure it out for hours." Glancing upward, she blushed, her blue eyes shining with raw anxiety, and she searched Shin’ichi’s face. "B-but if you want . . . ."
Beneath Ran’s sweet laugh and reassurances was a roiling, black cloud; it had festered for ages, through the long months of telephone calls, with every offer of her best cooking, and bubbling even beneath her breathless promises to love, honor, and cherish. Insecurity could do that to anyone. But now, at least now, she showed it.
And now I can see you.
Gazing into those open windows, Shin’ichi moved closer and gently cupped Ran’s chin. "What do you think?"
Ran gasped. "Shin’ichi-"
"Like I said, I’m an idiot, too," he said with a chuckle, smoothing a thumb over Ran’s bottom lip that retained only the barest traces of makeup. Lowering his voice, he looked into her eyes with growing intensity. "What it comes down to is that there is no one else here."
Tears rose to the corners of Ran’s eyes and glistened as they threatened to spill over. Drawing a sharp breath, she whispered, "Are you sure?"
Shin’ichi smiled. He resisted the urge to tease her for implying that they were not alone, but he understood what she meant. Edging closer so their noses brushed, he nodded. "You’re fine . . . just as you are."
"Shin’ichi . . . ." Ran spoke the name hoarsely, choking back the sob that Shin’ichi knew yearned to escape, but he did not give it time. He pressed his lips to hers, allowing the intoxicating rush to let him linger there only a moment before he withdrew and waited.
All he could hear in the otherwise silent room was their breathing, the only scent the delicate perfume on her neck, the only sight her eyes that, like twin pools, reflected sunshine. But then, a faint rustle fell at each side as Ran dropped her burdens and slid her arms around his waist. Tilting his head and shutting his eyes little by little, this time he brushed her parted lips, then caught them eagerly.
One last thought sprang to mind before Shin’ichi, winding his arms around her, let the thrill of her touch overwhelm him. Maybe he was not perfect for her, as she feared she was not perfect for him, but he would offer everything.
---
A faint stream of gold began to invade the suite, shielded from Shin’ichi’s sleepy eyes by a neighboring lampshade. Raising his head into the light, however, Shin’ichi glanced at the sleeping Ran and her long, beautiful tangle of hair.
It was more like her than him, he knew, to give the very best of herself and not hold back. Though it seemed a strange time to remember, he recalled his attempt to turn down his middle school soccer manager by explaining what made Ran so special; all he could think to say was that she was strong and stubborn, but gentle and sensitive . . . and that she had everything. Not like I deserve it, he thought, pressing a light kiss against her forehead.
Ran stirred then. Her eyelashes fluttering, she whimpered as she strained to focus but could only murmur, "Shi-"
"Shh," Shin’ichi hushed, brushing strands of her bangs aside. "Go back to sleep."
She gratefully did so, easing herself to snuggle against his chest with a blushing smile. Though Shin’ichi started and flushed, realizing that sleep would now be impossible, he then slipped his arms around her back. The sunlight had already begun to chase the shadows away, and would soon steal this precious time; at least he could give Ran a few more minutes of sleep. Shin’ichi did not mind lingering a little longer in their own world . . . and letting the rest of world, the world that lay beyond their whisper quiet door, wait for them to meet it together.
-----
"Wow! Mr. Kimura, you used to be an actor?" Ran exclaimed, wonder spreading across her features at the rotund man who greeted them personally at their breakfast table.
I knew it, Shin’ichi thought, his eyebrow developing a twitch all its own.
"Yes, my dear!" Kimura exclaimed, tucking his thumbs proudly beneath his lapels. Winking, he added, "I’ll have you know I once starred alongside the illustrious Kudou Yukiko, though she was not a Kudou at the time."
"Huh?" Shin’ichi asked, this time with genuine surprise. In all the stories his mother told of her brief acting career, she never once mentioned being in a production with this melodramatic man. Wonder why that is.
"It was a local, televised adaptation of Shakespeare’s Othello," Kimura declared. Suddenly planting his feet apart, he puffed his chest, flung a finger at Shin’ichi and bellowed, "O curse of marriage, that we can call these delicate creatures ours and not their appetites!"
The whole restaurant fell silent.
After Shin’ichi’s heart resumed beating and he uncurled his fingers from the tablecloth, Ran offered Kimura a weak smile and an even weaker smattering of applause. Groaning, Shin’ichi drooped and thought, That’s why.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Since I haven't had a chance to post here in awhile, please excuse this double-dip of my 30 Kisses challenge. ^^ Having spent a ton of time on it, I'm rather proud and trust it'll be a good addition to MC1T. *bows and falls on head* Enjoy the Shin/Ran romance!
Author: ran_mouri82
Word Count: 3511
Rating: T (or Older Teen)
Disclaimer: Detective Conan is pwned by Aoyama Gosho. I only admire his l33t skillz.
Warnings: Rated for discreet sexuality.
Pairings: Kudou Shin'ichi and Mouri Ran
Notes: It was time to remove Ran's wedding veil . . . and all their insecurities. Crossposted to
30kisses under prompt #8 - "our own world".
Just You
Drowsiness weighed on Kudou Shin’ichi’s eyelids, fighting to keep them closed as he blinked and shivered. Half of his chest lay exposed to the surrounding chill that had settled into the suite some time before, but the first thing Shin’ichi sensed, as he breathed deeply and tried to recollect his surroundings, was the fresh scent of hair. A cascade of dark tresses spilled across his neck like silk, pooling as it framed the profile of the slumbering figure beside him; all that peeked from beneath that natural veil was a small hand whose ring, a simple band, shone dull blue in the predawn light.
Blushing slightly, Shin’ichi gave Ran a smile and reached across her back, grasping the quilted comforter and tugging it over her shoulder to restore some warmth to them both. It failed to surprise Shin’ichi when, despite his movement, Ran did not stir or even shift in her deep sleep; his breath caught, instead, when she began to murmur a simple phrase by his ear.
"Fine . . . as you are . . . ."
Oh . . . . A burst of red flared on his cheeks as Ran whispered words that Shin’ichi knew too well. After all, he had said them.
Leaning against the pillows, Shin’ichi tucked a hand behind his head and surveyed the hotel suite with its Victorian furnishings. Turning from the drapes to his right that shut out the brightening sky, he peered thoughtfully at the tall dresser in the far left corner-or rather, beneath it. Their largest suitcase lay flat and unzipped on the plush carpet with much of its contents scattered about in small piles. A few short hours ago, that luggage landed with a thump by the walnut chairs upholstered in ivory and blue embroidery, only to be joined by their five other pieces of luggage and a very nervous bride . . . .
---
"And here we are! Our finest honeymoon suite!" cried the Hotel Flambeau proprietor Kimura Masao, turning the carved brass knob and throwing wide the door. Sweeping to the side, he let the tall, lanky bellhop pass with the luggage cart and, afterward, bowed with showman’s grace as Kudou Shin’ichi and Ran peeked their heads into the room.
Modern architecture aside, the suite first struck Shin’ichi as coming straight from a movie set or museum. The Hotel Flambeau was a relatively new hotel located not far from Beika, but prided itself on appealing to high class customers with old world charm-at least, in the western sense. Pearl, plush carpeting created a cushioned display for the imitation antique, gold-accented furniture, including a large dresser, a sitting area to the right consisting of a table and two chairs, an armoire entertainment center to the left, and a bed against the far wall whose four posts spiraled to almost touch the ceiling.
Shin’ichi groaned. Now he understood why his mother had enthused so much about this place, describing it as the perfect place from him and Ran to stay the night before their flight to England: she was a sucker for Victorian style. Even for a Holmes fan, it was too much.
"Come, come in, my lady!" Kimura said, waddling his stout frame toward Ran and taking her hand with gusto. When she balked and tried to pull it from his strong grip, he blinked, asking, "What’s this? Where’s your lovely wedding ring?"
"I’m w-wearing it underneath my glove so it won’t fall off," Ran replied, in another failed attempt to tug her fingers free.
Letting his thick mustache spread from ear to ear in a grin, Kimura proclaimed, "Then come, no need to be bashful! Come and look around! Drink it all in, for within a lady’s chamber she is the queen!"
Chuckling at the man’s impromptu monologue, Shin’ichi thought, So that’s it. Our discounted rate could only be coming from that dramatic guy because-
"And, furthermore," Kimura concluded, bowing with a flourish before the blushing Ran, "your beauty is more than a fitting addition to the Kudou family."
He knows Mom, Shin’ichi thought, as a sweat drop beaded on his forehead.
Still, despite the lame method of Kimura’s observation, Shin’ichi agreed. Tuning out both the loud thumps of each suitcase as they hit the floor and the proprietor’s bloated speeches, Shin’ichi smiled and trailed behind Ran as she lifted her skirts to step into the room. She still wore her wedding gown of white satin and tulle that billowed to the ground from her ribbed bodice; her veil, flowing from a sparkling tiara, brushed her chin and obscured her waves of thick, dark hair as she laid a hand on one of the bedposts, then stared through the slightly parted curtains. If he had not known Ran all his life, Shin’ichi would declare with a grin that she glided about like an ideal lady.
In fact, as Ran wandered toward the curtains, she almost seemed too ideal. Even with the lights of Tokyo shining against her outline, Shin’ichi’s thoughts drifted to the last time he saw her before the ceremony. From that point on, her posture was tense and her smile like a stiff mask, as if she were posing for an old fashioned photograph.
"Well, now, I’ll leave you two, but be sure to ask for me personally if you need anything," Kimura said at last, with a hearty laugh. Adjusting the tie of his silk suit and tails, which seemed better suited for a ringmaster than a hotel proprietor, in Shin’ichi’s opinion, he bowed with a spirited wave and departed.
As Shin’ichi craned his neck to watch Kimura bound away to parts unknown, the bellhop bowed slightly and said, "Please enjoy your stay."
Shin’ichi made sure to double his tip-as special thanks for his brevity-before he slipped through the door and shut it behind the newlyweds with a click. Sticking his clammy hands in his tuxedo pockets, Shin’ichi eyed the closing door. Its sound was discreet, and yet it echoed with a knell of finality.
Turning back, Shin’ichi saw Ran do likewise-and their eyes met.
"No, you idiot, I’m not talking about where you’re going to go on your honeymoon," Hattori Heiji chuckled, grinning mischievously. Seagulls mocked the young men from above, catcalling as they swooped over the waves, while Heiji rubbed a headache-inducing fist into Shin’ichi’s head of salty hair. "I mean what are you planning to do?"
"H-Hattori!" Shin’ichi cried, his entire face and torso flushing red. He would not be surprised if the steam from his body sent smoke signals over the rocks where they sat, making Ran and the other girls wonder where the fire was. Pushing Heiji’s arm, he spat, "I would’ve told you if that was any of your business!"
Smirking, Heiji backed away and spread his hands. "Don’t kill me because you’re shy!"
Silence hung like a thick blanket over the suite as Ran and Shin’ichi shifted uncomfortably. While Ran smoothed the folds of her gown, Shin’ichi scratched his head and racked his brain for something intelligent to say. "Er, you want to use the bathroom?"
Ran blinked. "Huh?"
What the hell kind of stupid question was that? Shin’ichi grumbled to himself. "I mean," he tried again, ambling across the room to meet Ran at the bay windows, "you can go ahead first and change, if you want." Goose bumps shot up Ran’s arms at that; her gloves did not reach as far as her elbows, and short sleeves hugged her shoulders, so it would be no surprise to Shin’ichi if she was cold. Reaching with a sigh to rub her bare upper arms, Shin’ichi asked, "You’re probably uncomfortable in that dress, right?"
"No!" Ran cried, throwing her hands up and cringing as a hot blush bloomed on her cheeks. With a sidelong glance, Ran shook her head and giggled, stammering, "I-I mean, you can go ahead."
Letting her arms go, Shin’ichi arched an eyebrow in confusion. "You okay?"
"Of course I’m okay, silly," Ran replied, with trademark cheer, though she fidgeted with her dress’ boning at the same time. Then, she opened her mouth and closed it, meeting his gaze in the soft lamplight. "Um . . . Shin’ichi?"
Then there is something? Shin’ichi wondered, knitting his brow. "Yeah?"
Ran set her jaw and pressed her rose tinted lips in a tight line. Then, she took a deep breath. "W-what do you think of . . . how important is it for-for a wife to please her husband?"
Now Shin’ichi was really puzzled. "What are you talking about?"
"Um . . . n-nothing," Ran replied. A twitch developed in her smile while a fine shade of red spread to the top of her head, threatening to set her veil on fire. "It’s just t-that I should probably get started-sorting my luggage!"
And with that, Ran gathered her skirts again and flitted in a wide arc around the bed to her suitcases in the far corner of the suite, leaving Shin’ichi to stare after her, bewildered. Then, he rubbed his forehead and groaned, wondering if no amount of loving Ran would let him plumb the surface, let alone the depth, of her mystery. Why do women have to be so damn confusing?
"I’ll just be a few minutes, s-so . . . ." Ran called over her shoulder, flashing him the brightest smile before dropping onto her hands and knees-amid flounces and tulle-and unzipping the largest suitcase nearest the dresser.
Her smile . . . just like this morning. Shin’ichi frowned. It was such a short time ago, just before the whirlwind of activity had swept them into the wedding chapel, and then out to the reception with scores of police officers, lawyers, the rich and famous friends of the Kudous, and all their former classmates. Before all of this, Shin’ichi had been pacing the hall with Heiji, his best man, when the door beside him flew open-less than an arm’s length away from whacking him in the head.
"What the . . . ?!" he cried, wobbling on one leg to avoid being run over by a blur of white. The figure halted in her tracks on the floral carpeting and gaped in horror as Shin’ichi straightened, then recognized her. "Ran?"
"Don’t worry, ‘Neechan," Heiji said, grabbing Shin’ichi in a choke hold with a puckish grin. "He needed the distraction."
"Shut up, Hattori," Shin’ichi grumbled, through gritted teeth.
Holding a graceful hand to her lips, Ran’s panicked expression softened. Shin’ichi and Ran stared at each other then, and it felt as if, for a split second, she lowered her guard so only he could peer through that dark window into her soul-right before she closed the shutters.
"Sorry anyway, Shin’ichi," Ran said, looking away with a giggle. "I was, um, just going to check on something . . . but it can wait until later." Backing slowly toward the door, she turned the knob and stepped inside, flashing him a smile that glittered with contentment.
"Hey, Hattori, you think she’s alright?" Shin’ichi muttered, after Ran closed the bridal chamber door behind her. He knew that joy always exuded from Ran like a scent; it never sparkled like a toothpaste ad.
"Eh, she’ll be fine. I’m sure it’s just jitters," Heiji replied, whacking Shin’ichi between the shoulder blades. Chuckling, he added, "You got those too, right?"
"Yeah, I guess so," Shin’ichi murmured aloud, watching Ran rummage through her belongings and fling various items to the ground. Deodorant, unopened cartons of pantyhose, shirts, jeans, striped socks-nothing was safe. All the while, Shin’ichi could not forget the intense bundle of nerves that Ran barely revealed to him. Still . . . this is more than jitters. It has to be.
A thought struck him. Her luggage?
Ignoring the idea that Ran’s suitcase bothered her enough to make her dive into it on their wedding night, since that was ridiculous, Shin’ichi loosened the bow tie around his neck, started to whistle off-key, and padded across the room toward Ran-far enough from the corridor leading into the suite’s bath to make her blink in surprise.
"S-Shin’ichi, what are you doing here?" Ran asked, recovering quickly enough to slam her suitcase shut and offer another twitching smile.
Grasping the handle of his smaller suitcase, one in brown leather to combat the onslaught of pure black, otherwise nondescript luggage, he replied, "You said ‘I do,’ then I said ‘I do’-"
"That’s not what I meant," Ran retorted, plunking her hands on her hips. Her cheeks retained a rosy glow under Shin’ichi’s watchful eye, making her look rather cute.
"Hey, I’d like to see you try brushing your teeth without a toothbrush," Shin’ichi muttered, removing said toothbrush and paste from the front compartment of his bag; then, with sardonic flair, he leaned over Ran with the brush and bonked her on the head. When Ran swiped at the toothbrush while fighting a muffled laugh, he had a feeling that now was as good a time as any to ask. "Why do you want to, uh, sort your things so badly, anyway?"
Ran paused, then shifted and began to play with a corner of her veil. "W-well, we’ll only be here tonight before our flight to England, and because of Sonoko’s slumber party," she quickly added, "I mixed everything together."
Oh, that’s right, Shin’ichi thought, scowling to himself. Because Sonoko gave that party last night way out there in her mountain villa, all the women had to rush to the wedding hall. Scratching his head, he asked, "Why did you agree to go, anyway? Sonoko knows that place freaks you out."
"She kind of kept it a surprise," Ran said with a shudder, gathering some of the ejected clothing into a small pile by her lap. Taking a plain, white towel and folding it, Ran grinned. "Besides, she was only trying to help . . . to be a good friend."
Shin’ichi froze. Sonoko-
"A-actually, Shin’ichi," Ran said, tucking the thick towel with her toothbrush and soap into a smaller travel bag, "if you like, I’ll go change first."
So, it’s probably that, Shin’ichi thought, disbelief tugging his lips into a smile. Leaning forward so shadows obscured his face, he offered an upturned palm to Ran. Blinking, she took it, and coupled with her strength he pulled her to her feet with ease; as she tried to walk past, however, he did not let her go. "Ran, what are you hiding in the bag?"
Startled, Ran tried to pull her hand free, but stopped when Shin’ichi laced his fingers through hers and said, "I’d call you an idiot, if . . . I wasn’t one, too." With a chuckle, he added, "And that doesn’t happen too often, right?"
Swallowing hard, Ran opened her mouth to protest, then sighed. Swinging the aquamarine travel bag in her free hand, the color on her cheeks intensified as she murmured, "You know, I had a feeling that you would figure it out. Before I came back, I mean."
Shin’ichi released her and loosened his collar, feeling sweat drops spring to his forehead. Ran, for her part, chewed her lip when she unzipped the bag and fished for the towel-one that Shin’ichi knew she would not need in this amenities overloaded hotel-unraveling it to reveal a piece of clothing that was small, silky, and red. The thing was stitched in the shape of a bathing suit, but no one could get away with wearing it; vast patches of scarlet lace served as material, letting the lamplight shine through and set it ablaze.
"Uh . . . ." Shin’ichi trembled from head to foot, not so much surprised at seeing the teddy as battling total combustion. Held above the fluffy, white towel between Ran’s hands, the skimpy lingerie would almost have appeared to be a silk and lace bouquet, if it were not tinted such a garish orange. Cursing his vocal chords for not working right, he coughed and stammered, "W-were you, uh, planning to . . . wear it?"
Ran’s shoulders sank then, and she stared at the floor, letting both gloved hands drop with their contents; clutching the fiery teddy in one and the ivory towel in the other, she looked torn. She tried to laugh, but it rose from her lungs like a sigh. "I . . . don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure it out for hours." Glancing upward, she blushed, her blue eyes shining with raw anxiety, and she searched Shin’ichi’s face. "B-but if you want . . . ."
Beneath Ran’s sweet laugh and reassurances was a roiling, black cloud; it had festered for ages, through the long months of telephone calls, with every offer of her best cooking, and bubbling even beneath her breathless promises to love, honor, and cherish. Insecurity could do that to anyone. But now, at least now, she showed it.
And now I can see you.
Gazing into those open windows, Shin’ichi moved closer and gently cupped Ran’s chin. "What do you think?"
Ran gasped. "Shin’ichi-"
"Like I said, I’m an idiot, too," he said with a chuckle, smoothing a thumb over Ran’s bottom lip that retained only the barest traces of makeup. Lowering his voice, he looked into her eyes with growing intensity. "What it comes down to is that there is no one else here."
Tears rose to the corners of Ran’s eyes and glistened as they threatened to spill over. Drawing a sharp breath, she whispered, "Are you sure?"
Shin’ichi smiled. He resisted the urge to tease her for implying that they were not alone, but he understood what she meant. Edging closer so their noses brushed, he nodded. "You’re fine . . . just as you are."
"Shin’ichi . . . ." Ran spoke the name hoarsely, choking back the sob that Shin’ichi knew yearned to escape, but he did not give it time. He pressed his lips to hers, allowing the intoxicating rush to let him linger there only a moment before he withdrew and waited.
All he could hear in the otherwise silent room was their breathing, the only scent the delicate perfume on her neck, the only sight her eyes that, like twin pools, reflected sunshine. But then, a faint rustle fell at each side as Ran dropped her burdens and slid her arms around his waist. Tilting his head and shutting his eyes little by little, this time he brushed her parted lips, then caught them eagerly.
One last thought sprang to mind before Shin’ichi, winding his arms around her, let the thrill of her touch overwhelm him. Maybe he was not perfect for her, as she feared she was not perfect for him, but he would offer everything.
---
A faint stream of gold began to invade the suite, shielded from Shin’ichi’s sleepy eyes by a neighboring lampshade. Raising his head into the light, however, Shin’ichi glanced at the sleeping Ran and her long, beautiful tangle of hair.
It was more like her than him, he knew, to give the very best of herself and not hold back. Though it seemed a strange time to remember, he recalled his attempt to turn down his middle school soccer manager by explaining what made Ran so special; all he could think to say was that she was strong and stubborn, but gentle and sensitive . . . and that she had everything. Not like I deserve it, he thought, pressing a light kiss against her forehead.
Ran stirred then. Her eyelashes fluttering, she whimpered as she strained to focus but could only murmur, "Shi-"
"Shh," Shin’ichi hushed, brushing strands of her bangs aside. "Go back to sleep."
She gratefully did so, easing herself to snuggle against his chest with a blushing smile. Though Shin’ichi started and flushed, realizing that sleep would now be impossible, he then slipped his arms around her back. The sunlight had already begun to chase the shadows away, and would soon steal this precious time; at least he could give Ran a few more minutes of sleep. Shin’ichi did not mind lingering a little longer in their own world . . . and letting the rest of world, the world that lay beyond their whisper quiet door, wait for them to meet it together.
-----
"Wow! Mr. Kimura, you used to be an actor?" Ran exclaimed, wonder spreading across her features at the rotund man who greeted them personally at their breakfast table.
I knew it, Shin’ichi thought, his eyebrow developing a twitch all its own.
"Yes, my dear!" Kimura exclaimed, tucking his thumbs proudly beneath his lapels. Winking, he added, "I’ll have you know I once starred alongside the illustrious Kudou Yukiko, though she was not a Kudou at the time."
"Huh?" Shin’ichi asked, this time with genuine surprise. In all the stories his mother told of her brief acting career, she never once mentioned being in a production with this melodramatic man. Wonder why that is.
"It was a local, televised adaptation of Shakespeare’s Othello," Kimura declared. Suddenly planting his feet apart, he puffed his chest, flung a finger at Shin’ichi and bellowed, "O curse of marriage, that we can call these delicate creatures ours and not their appetites!"
The whole restaurant fell silent.
After Shin’ichi’s heart resumed beating and he uncurled his fingers from the tablecloth, Ran offered Kimura a weak smile and an even weaker smattering of applause. Groaning, Shin’ichi drooped and thought, That’s why.
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Since I haven't had a chance to post here in awhile, please excuse this double-dip of my 30 Kisses challenge. ^^ Having spent a ton of time on it, I'm rather proud and trust it'll be a good addition to MC1T. *bows and falls on head* Enjoy the Shin/Ran romance!