While I was browsing on DA, I stumbled across an extremely cute Mitsuhiko X Ai picture, which subsequently inspired this little ficlet here. Here's the link to the picture, as it deserves partial credit, after all: http :// hayai-akurei. deviantart .com /art/ Our-Future-Together-96563161; just get rid of the spaces to get the actual link.

I know that it's not very good, and that it may be a bit OOC, but also keep in mind that they are older, and that Ai has softened up a bit with time. With that in mind, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own Meitantei Conan; Gosho Aoyama does.

Her fingers swept deftly across the keyboard; aside from her typing, everything was deathly silent. Though she did hold a preference for such, she had to wonder: what was taking him so long? As if on cue, there was a heavy knock on the door, contrasted by the deep, gentle voice that followed, "The tea's ready."

Her fingers, arched and prepared to type, hovered above the keys for a few lingering moments before she continued on, calling back softly as she worked, "Come in."

The door creaked loudly, alerting her of his entrance; the floorboards moaned and groaned in protest beneath his weight, forewarning her of his approach, as well as reminding her of just how ancient her home truly was. She smiled slightly at the thought; he'd always been one for history, after all. His love for all that was antique had followed him from childhood to adulthood; it was one quality he would never grow out of, it seemed, just as his love for the mysterious was there to stay.

Perhaps, she mused, that was why he had automatically been drawn to her; it had started off as an intellectual attraction, but had slowly grown into something more.

"Here."

His breath tickled her ear lightly; she lifted her head, her smile widening. He returned her smile with one just as warm; his teal eyes were closed, but she had no doubt that the smile had reached even they as he held out the tea cup, offering it to her. She accepted, taking the drink from his hands.

Silence reigned once more, but it was peaceful, and neither wanted to break that sense of tranquility; he rested a hand on her shoulder almost protectively, giving it a light squeeze before he ducked his head down, placing a tender kiss to her temple. Unconsciously, he began to run his free hand across her stomach; it had become somewhat of a second-nature to him. He often tended to have sudden urges to check on the growing fetus, worried that something would go wrong; his fears were always dispelled when the baby promptly began to kick violently, a good sign, but it was at these times that his wife would gripe, insisting that he was purposefully riling their child up.

They tended to banter afterwards, throwing light-hearted taunts and insults back and forth, but in the end, they always wound up such as they did now; she'd once commented airily that their relationship was, in all, a portrait; a portrait that showed what was, and what was to be. He couldn't have agreed more.

And there you have it, my first actual attempt at writing MitsuAi, which I will attempt to remedy; the pairing is really growing on me. What do you guys think? ;)