In which Kazuha slaps Heiji repeatedly (Detective Conan, Heiji/Kazuha, #7)
Title: In which Kazuha slaps Heiji repeatedly
Author: fireblazie
Pairing: Heiji/Kazuha
Fandom: Detective Conan
Theme: #7, superstar
Disclaimer: I don't own Detective Conan. Am just borrowing the characters for a bit!
Kazuha had always known in her heart that Heiji was smart. Not just average, number one in your class, will most likely grow up to graduate high school at the top of his class with three thousand billion honors to his name… but really, really smart, as in, famous-smart. Like Bill Gates or.. some other really smart person. (Kazuha didn’t pretend to understand half of the things he said. Because she knew that she was average, not super-duper-intelligent, and she didn’t want to seem like a pretender)
She realized that he was destined for greater things when he solved his first case. How old had they been? Some time before entering middle school, that was the only thing she was certain of. His father had clapped him on the shoulder with a curt nod and an approving smile. Heiji had blushed slightly, but had made up for it by boasting. Repeatedly.
That was when Kazuha first slapped him.
“Aho!” he yelled.
She stuck her tongue out at him. “Stupid,” she muttered, and kicked him in the shin.
-.-
The second time she slapped him was when they were both around twelve or thirteen, and he was on his way to solving another murder case. (And was it her, or did a lot of these murder cases occur around him? One would think that dead bodies stalked the guy, really) The police officers already at the scene were nodding along with whatever Heiji was saying, and Kazuha thought it was rather ironic, a bunch of middle-aged men listening to a thirteen-year-old boy.
“Great job, kid,” the inspector told him. “You’d better grow up to join the police force.”
After that, photographers from the local newspapers clamored to take his picture. Reporters pushed their way past her to get an interview with the genius thirteen-year-old.
Kazuha waited for ten minutes before giving up and going home.
-.-
There were loud, impatient knocks at the door. Kazuha, who had dozed off while watching a soap opera on T.V., sleepily stumbled off the couch and opened the front door.
A certain dark-skinned teen was sitting there, glaring sullenly at her.
Kazuha prickled uncomfortably. Heiji’s glares were intimidating, though they never affected her - but this was different, a little bit more intense.
“What?” she asked, finally.
“Where were you?”
She glowered at him. “What do you think, Sherlock? I went home.”
“I figured that much out.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What I meant was more of why.”
The bitterness that had engulfed Kazuha all afternoon came pouring out of her. “Well, you were off getting your picture taken and getting interviewed by all of these reporters, Mr. Superstar! What was I supposed to do? Wait for you like your wife? I don’t think so, Heiji. I have other, better things to do. Homework. Watching T.V. I’m not going to follow you around like some lovesick puppy. I’m not that kind of girl.”
And she slapped him.
“Idiot,” he barked, seemingly unfazed by her slap, “you didn’t have to just run off.”
The condescending tone in his voice made Kazuha raise her hand again, and just as her palm was about to make contact with his skin, he grabbed it.
Kazuha gasped in surprise. His skin, touching hers. His fingers, wrapping themselves around her palm.
Her heart jumped.
“If you were getting tired of waiting around, you could have just asked me to leave. I would’ve left.”
Her anger ebbed away. “Really?” she asked doubtfully.
“Yes.” He rolled his eyes. “I’d rather be with you than be off answering stupid questions for the papers.”
“Oh.” She looked down. What did he mean by that? “Okay.”
-.-
The following Thursday, there was yet another murder. Kazuha sighed and watched as Heiji stepped in the middle of the restaurant, next to the cadaver, and ordered nobody to leave. She closed her eyes so that she wouldn’t see the body.
Police officers arrived. Heiji solved the case in about five minutes flat. Then came the photographers and the news reporters. She let out a long sigh and took a sip of her iced tea.
She was so afraid.
She was nothing compared to Heiji. Nothing. He was brilliant, absolutely brilliant. He
literally could be the next Sherlock Holmes. He could be so famous, so rich. And what was she? She was average.
She jerked back sharply when someone poked her in the middle of her back. She whirled around.
Green eyes.
“Come on. Let’s go.”
She blinked as he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her up. “Wait! Aren’t you going to answer their -“
“Nah. Don’t feel like it.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but fell silent at the look on his face. Determined. A slight, almost undetectable trace of pink kissing his cheeks.
She closed her mouth and smiled. “All right.”
FIN -
Author: fireblazie
Pairing: Heiji/Kazuha
Fandom: Detective Conan
Theme: #7, superstar
Disclaimer: I don't own Detective Conan. Am just borrowing the characters for a bit!
Kazuha had always known in her heart that Heiji was smart. Not just average, number one in your class, will most likely grow up to graduate high school at the top of his class with three thousand billion honors to his name… but really, really smart, as in, famous-smart. Like Bill Gates or.. some other really smart person. (Kazuha didn’t pretend to understand half of the things he said. Because she knew that she was average, not super-duper-intelligent, and she didn’t want to seem like a pretender)
She realized that he was destined for greater things when he solved his first case. How old had they been? Some time before entering middle school, that was the only thing she was certain of. His father had clapped him on the shoulder with a curt nod and an approving smile. Heiji had blushed slightly, but had made up for it by boasting. Repeatedly.
That was when Kazuha first slapped him.
“Aho!” he yelled.
She stuck her tongue out at him. “Stupid,” she muttered, and kicked him in the shin.
-.-
The second time she slapped him was when they were both around twelve or thirteen, and he was on his way to solving another murder case. (And was it her, or did a lot of these murder cases occur around him? One would think that dead bodies stalked the guy, really) The police officers already at the scene were nodding along with whatever Heiji was saying, and Kazuha thought it was rather ironic, a bunch of middle-aged men listening to a thirteen-year-old boy.
“Great job, kid,” the inspector told him. “You’d better grow up to join the police force.”
After that, photographers from the local newspapers clamored to take his picture. Reporters pushed their way past her to get an interview with the genius thirteen-year-old.
Kazuha waited for ten minutes before giving up and going home.
-.-
There were loud, impatient knocks at the door. Kazuha, who had dozed off while watching a soap opera on T.V., sleepily stumbled off the couch and opened the front door.
A certain dark-skinned teen was sitting there, glaring sullenly at her.
Kazuha prickled uncomfortably. Heiji’s glares were intimidating, though they never affected her - but this was different, a little bit more intense.
“What?” she asked, finally.
“Where were you?”
She glowered at him. “What do you think, Sherlock? I went home.”
“I figured that much out.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What I meant was more of why.”
The bitterness that had engulfed Kazuha all afternoon came pouring out of her. “Well, you were off getting your picture taken and getting interviewed by all of these reporters, Mr. Superstar! What was I supposed to do? Wait for you like your wife? I don’t think so, Heiji. I have other, better things to do. Homework. Watching T.V. I’m not going to follow you around like some lovesick puppy. I’m not that kind of girl.”
And she slapped him.
“Idiot,” he barked, seemingly unfazed by her slap, “you didn’t have to just run off.”
The condescending tone in his voice made Kazuha raise her hand again, and just as her palm was about to make contact with his skin, he grabbed it.
Kazuha gasped in surprise. His skin, touching hers. His fingers, wrapping themselves around her palm.
Her heart jumped.
“If you were getting tired of waiting around, you could have just asked me to leave. I would’ve left.”
Her anger ebbed away. “Really?” she asked doubtfully.
“Yes.” He rolled his eyes. “I’d rather be with you than be off answering stupid questions for the papers.”
“Oh.” She looked down. What did he mean by that? “Okay.”
-.-
The following Thursday, there was yet another murder. Kazuha sighed and watched as Heiji stepped in the middle of the restaurant, next to the cadaver, and ordered nobody to leave. She closed her eyes so that she wouldn’t see the body.
Police officers arrived. Heiji solved the case in about five minutes flat. Then came the photographers and the news reporters. She let out a long sigh and took a sip of her iced tea.
She was so afraid.
She was nothing compared to Heiji. Nothing. He was brilliant, absolutely brilliant. He
literally could be the next Sherlock Holmes. He could be so famous, so rich. And what was she? She was average.
She jerked back sharply when someone poked her in the middle of her back. She whirled around.
Green eyes.
“Come on. Let’s go.”
She blinked as he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her up. “Wait! Aren’t you going to answer their -“
“Nah. Don’t feel like it.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but fell silent at the look on his face. Determined. A slight, almost undetectable trace of pink kissing his cheeks.
She closed her mouth and smiled. “All right.”
FIN -