A/N: From a headcanon ask on tumblr "shinichi and shiho return to their original bodies and they have to ride back on agasa's car, shinichi is so used to sharing his seat with shiho (when they were in kid forms) that when he was about to join shiho in the passenger seat, he asks her to move while shiho just looks at him like he's completely lost it"

I bent it for plot convenience ( ͡º ͜ʖ ͡º)

Also jsyk that like an hour or so ago I read two super sad coai fics that filled me with spite and led me to write this ball of fluffy cheese.

Warnings: accidental intimacy or whatever. This fic is semi crack and I don't take it seriously so neither should you.¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Unbetaed; didn't proofread. YOLO i guess.

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"Move."

"Excuse me?"

"I said move. You're taking up my spot."

Shiho's brows furrow into the nastiest glare of disapprovement she can manage. Wrapping her arms tightly around her chest, the strawberry blonde lifts her chin in defiance.

"How rude. This is my spot too. And in case you failed to noticed, I was here first."

"Oi, don't be like that!" Shinichi huffs, looking a bit helpless. He throws a meaningful glance at backseat of the car and frowns. "The back's already jammed with Hakase's junk. We'll have to share a seat." A short pause. Hesitantly, he offers a shy smile at the haughty scientist who refuses to give her ground. "Ne, just like the old times."

"Ara, you think?" The girl mocks, unfazed. "Sorry to burst your bubble but this is a single-person's seat —and I'm already sitting on it. Moreover, it's a traffic violation to have two people riding shotgun, so you can either crash with the trash or walk home, Mr. Detective."

Shinichi's face fall into a bemused expression. "You're kidding."

"One hundred percent, no."

They stare at each other for the longest three seconds in recorded history, neither willing to yield. It's not long until the young detective sighs with resignation.

"Fine. Alright."

"Hey, what what are you— !?"

Squeezing his way into the confined space of the passenger seat, Shinichi pushes his startled partner further inside the vehicle by bumping the side of his hips against hers. He successfully takes his spot besides her and closes the door while ignoring her whimpers of protests. Shiho flails off balance before her left hand find support in the empty driving seat, and she angles her body as best as she can to prevent herself from falling into the gearbox.

"It didn't have to be this way, you know." Shinichi has the audacity to tell her, their bodies uncomfortably pressed against each other in the crowded space of the passenger seat. He seems awfully nonchalant about the situations, as if sharing zero personal space between them was some kind of unspoken congruence. She reminds herself that for the longest time, it sort of was that way. But Edogawa Conan and Haibara Ai are part of the past —one that neither of them seem to be able to let go, at that— and so she's reminded once again that old habits die hard, however inconvenient or inappropriate they might be.

Kudo Shinichi is living proof of that.

"D-Damn you, Kudo-kun! I'm falling off! I told you we can't both fit in here—"

"Yes we can." He insists matter-of-factly. "Just sit on my lap!"

She would seriously slap him if she could.

"No way!" Shiho huffs, heat crawling up her face. It's a most ridiculous situation: he's impossibly close and yet inexplicably, infuriatingly calm about it. It makes her wonder just how unaware of the the situation or helplessly dense the man can be. "I'm wearing a skirt, you pervert!"

"So?" Shinichi grins at his bewildered partner. "I've seen you in way less than that."

Mortified is an understatement. If looks could kill, Shiho would be a mass murderer.

Vein popping on her forehead, the fuming scientist slowly accommodates herself so her hands find purchase on his smug face.

"Erase. that. memory." The strawberry blonde demands in a low, threatening voice.

Shinichi yelps in pain when she pinches his cheeks between her fingers. As he tries to squirm away from her deathly grip, they somehow end up tangled in a mess of limbs in the cramped space between the passenger seat and the glove compartment. He thinks something's gone terribly wrong with him when his stomach lurches at the feeling of her knee meeting the side of his waist, but he doesn't have time to delve on it. Her hands are on his face and they are unforgiving.

"Ahhhghh! M'kay... 'kay!" He manages to blurt out, although it sounds more like a plea than a promise.

"I can't hear you."

Her fingers loosen and he immediately cups his own face in the most childish fashion.

"I said alright. Jeez. That hurts, woman!"

"Serves you well, you pervert!"

"Oi, that one time was an accident!"

"Then what do you call this?"

They wind up in a rather compromising position —she's sitting on top of him, to her utmost embarrassment, and there's as much wiggle room as to hardly allow any movement without brushing against each other's bodies or elbowing each other in the face. It's awkward and uncomfortable and way too crowded for the two of them.

He'd love to disagree, of course, but for once lacks in reason. And he has to admit to himself that he isn't too bothered by this arrangement. He's rather used to it, after all —used to the flowery scent of her hair, to the weight of her head resting over his shoulder on the trips back home and the warm feeling of her small body pressed and against his chest.

In all honesty —he's quite enjoying their current predicament. Modesty be damned.

(And if he knew this would become an issue after returning to their original bodies, then he would have perhaps reconsider a viable option.)

He clears his throat.

"Convenience."

"Public transportation exists, you know."

"Don't be cruel." He frowns, a pleading tone, " The next bus is in six hours."

"Enlighten me, please. I fail to see how being cramped in car with you during the whole ride home is any merciful for any of us. Your legs will go numb in no time."

"I'll survive." He says in a cavalier manner. "If you would stop squirming."

"I'm not!"

"Sure. Okay."

"Shut up, Kudo-kun."

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Agasa comes holding a backpack and when the both of them throw him a meaningful look that clearly state don't ask, the old man gracefully takes his place on the wheel and starts driving without a single comment. Every now and then Shiho catches the old man throwing a furtive look at them and failing to control the compulsive twitch of a knowing smirk, and she honestly feels like dying of embarrassment.

She finds it difficult to contain herself when Shinichi leans forward to whisper I could get used to this into her ear.

(So she elbows him in the chest instead.)

"Ouch!"

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