I joined a community on Livejournal called 12 Fics. It's a smaller version of those things that prompt you to write 100 stories. I don't think I'm up to that. But I do hope to at least write twelve little one shots, and so I hope you enjoy this!

Story prompt is: 01 Hunger.
Detective Conan is copywrite Gosho Aoyama-sensei. I humbly write fanfiction because I admire his characters. Please don't sue, I'm broke. ;)

Dinner had been simple and late, due to the case they all had returned from.

Detective Mouri had taken the credit for himself, then scolded Conan and Ran for dragging themselves into the mess. Once his daughter had prepared a small meal, he raided the refrigerator for some beer, and barricaded himself at his desk with the TV.

'How does Ran live with that deadbeat?' Conan thought to himself with irritation.

However, Ran didn't seem to take notice. "That was very brave of you, Conan-kun!" She grinned from across the kitchen table, her hands clasped underneath her chin. On her plate was a small serving of noodles, and some beef and broccoli. His plate was the same. Even though they had been through quite a lot in one night, she had still put forth the effort to make sure all three of them ate.

Conan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He wasn't really hungry. He felt a little bad for it, but his stinging ego and bruised side had him too preoccupied with his shortcomings to appreciate food, or even a compliment. The day had been saved, sure, but it had been such a close call that he couldn't forgive himself for it. Still, he tried to keep up appearances.

"Ehehe, I'm just glad everything turned out ok!"

He rubbed the back of his head in mock embarrassment. It was also hard to concentrate on that victory when he was sure it had been a lead on the mysterious men in black. What he really wanted was to sit and run through his options, but he had nowhere to start, and nowhere to go. The beginnings of a pounding headache were not helping things any, either.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Ran had already finished a good portion of her food by the time Conan managed to stave off his brooding.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Huh?"

Ran frowned at him, and pointed to his plate. "Little boys need all their nutrients in order to grow strong. It'll also help your bruises heal faster, so you need to eat."

"I- I'm not very hungry..." Conan began, only realizing after the words were out of his mouth that he'd just used the most classic of children's excuses for not eating.

Ran's expression turned skeptical.

"Honest!" Conan pleaded. Well at least it was true. What was food when there were bigger problems to solve? Here he was, the great detective Shinichi Kudo, reduced to digging desperately for an excuse to leave the dinner table. He suddenly began to realize the scale of his problems were infinitely larger than simply tracking down clues or keeping his identity secret. He threw out another desperate argument. "It's getting late, kids need sleep too--"

"Eat," Ran cut him off with a flat-eyed glare, and he gulped back his words. 'I cooked that just for you, so you had better eat it, or else,' seemed to be her unspoken addition.

It was clearly apparent by now to Conan that even if Ran was being raised by her father, she had definitely inherited a mother's genes. He had seen her scary side at school, as Shinichi Kudo. But he had never seen her motherly side.

"Y-yes ma'am," he managed back, and took a few bites of his noodles. His headache subsided a bit, and Conan blinked in surprise. The food was also very, very good.

Ran sat back in her chair, a slight smirk on her lips.

Inwardly, Conan sighed, and gave in. He began to diligently finish his dinner.

He couldn't believe how the tables had turned on him. He had so much to figure out tomorrow. There was so much to search for, and to protect Ran from. There were so many obstacles to climb. Most of all, he couldn't believe how big of a mistake he had made.

But there was one mistake he decided he didn't mind making.

Maybe he was just a little bit hungry.