for the prompt: wearing the other's sweater, Conan and anyone
*upends salt shaker over fluff pile* …I'm sorry, you were saying?
Conan's been sitting outside the skating rink for almost five minutes when Haibara comes up beside him, rummaging in her bag for something.
Two somethings, as it turns out: a slim thermos, along with a small bundle of knitted fabric.
The latter unrolls into a sweater when Haibara shakes it out, and Conan gives her a mildly confused look when she holds it out to him.
"Extra sweater, Edogawa-kun. I'd advise you to put it on," she says, tone acerbic. "You should've excused yourself from today's outing if you weren't feeling well."
Conan rolls his eyes. "Idiot. As if I could say no when those three have been so excited about coming here all week. Anyway, I'm fine, you can keep the sweater."
(Yes, okay, he's been getting faint chills since waking up earlier and the ice skating hasn't helped much – but he's definitely not sick, thank you, and his sense of balance is still perfectly serviceable.
He'd been careful to act normal all morning, but Conan supposes he really ought to have known better.)
The Detective Boys choose this moment to wave at them from the edge of the rink, and Genta calls out to him. "Had enough of a rest yet, Conan?"
"Give me another few minutes!" Conan answers, pitching his voice to carry, and the kids nod, skating away again in cheerful clumsiness.
Haibara fails to be distracted, unfortunately, and continues the conversation with barely a moment's pause. "I beg to differ. Even if you aren't actually ill yet, you will catch a cold by the end of today if you don't keep yourself warm."
Conan gives her an annoyed glare, which she returns with interest. "You can't actually know that."
"Yes, I can," she answers flatly, and drops the sweater in his lap before unscrewing the lid of the thermos. "You need to take better care of yourself, Edogawa-kun."
"Look who's talking," Conan mutters right back, though his words are slightly muffled by fabric as he relents and tugs the sweater on. "You were up late last night again, weren't you?"
Haibara settles down next to him on the bench, taking a sip of her drink. "Oh, are you asking? I'm disappointed, detective, I thought you'd have deduced it all for yourself."
Conan snorts. "What makes you think I haven't? I was just asking to be polite, that's all."
"Your idea of politeness could use some work," Haibara says, eyeing herself critically. "Though I must say, I thought I'd concealed my eyebags well enough."
"You did," he confirms. "But there was a convenience store receipt from this morning for onigiri and bread in Hakase's car when he drove us here, so you didn't wake up early enough to make breakfast. And that's coffee in your thermos. You don't usually drink it this early in the day, much less without cream or sugar."
"What damning evidence," Haibara says mildly. "Perhaps I'd just felt like having a change for once, hmm?"
Conan doesn't bother dignifying that with an answer – Haibara is as much a creature of habit as he himself is, if in different ways. He does contemplate stealing some of the coffee for himself, though the idea is less tempting than it would've been several minutes ago.
He's not going to admit it, of course, but he feels much better with the sweater's additional warmth. The cloth is a light grey cashmere, considerably more comfortable than it looks, and…
…hang on.
Conan narrows his eyes at the knitted fabric – and yep, there's no mistaking the gingko leaf pattern, done in a silvery thread thin enough to be unnoticeable until it catches the light.
He can't even bring himself to be properly surprised. "I didn't know they made Fusae brand sweaters in child sizes. Are you going to threaten me with something dire if I damage it?"
"Oh, not at all," Haibara replies airily. "That design's from two seasons ago, I wouldn't mind replacing it. Not on my dime, of course."
"Oi!" Conan splutters when the words register. "I don't owe you any more debts, Haibara, I know I cleared the last few ones off already."
"I prefer to believe that it's a only matter of time." She gives him an unfriendly pat on the shoulder, grin suddenly sharp as a shark's, before standing and dusting off her skirt. "Remember, I'm counting on you, Edogawa-kun."
"You can murder someone with ice skates, you know," Conan remarks conversationally, but she only waves a hand as she walks off, nonchalant.
END
saltbuddies y/y