Title: Waking Beauty
Author: RanMouri82
Pairing: Kudou Shin'ichi and Mouri Ran
Fandom: Detective Conan
Theme: #21 – violence; pillage/plunder; extortion
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Detective Conan is pwned by Aoyama Gosho. I only admire his l33t skillz. (Published 7/17/2007)

Waking Beauty

"Don't even think about it, Watanabe."

A shadowy figure paused, his mouth stopping a hair's breadth away from that of an unconscious girl; her rich brown hair fanned upon a brocade pillow, and her arm, despite its muscular tone, drooped limply off the sofa. Lifting his head, the man who had, over dinner at the grand Suzuki residence, looked slender and gentlemanly in a suit and horn-rimmed glasses before he slipped sleeping pills into the girl's drink, glared at Kudou Shin'ichi with feral hatred.

Unlike most murderers facing Shin'ichi, who now emerged from behind a grandfather clock looking particularly pissed off, Watanabe Tatsuya did not bother playing it cool or demanding proof from the teenage detective. But Shin'ichi expected that from the man behind the now infamous "Sleeping Beauty" serial murders. Serial killings might not have been the usual line of Shin'ichi's deduction work, but he knew Watanabe was the kind sadistic enough not only to time the sleeping pills' effect so each victim would awaken to a searing, painful death, but to kill these victims by sullying their lips with a deadly kiss. So instead of debating or fighting, Watanabe gasped and lifted himself to full height, ready to swallow his own tablet of specially coated poison.

Shin'ichi scowled. He had removed the tie of his school uniform and loosened his collar, already sick and tired of this guy. At Watanabe's sudden movement, Shin'ichi released a soccer ball and, just before it reached the ground, smashed all his weight into it, knocking the poison tablet from Watanabe's gaping mouth, shattering his glasses, and knocking him unconscious all at once.

"Damn, that was close," Shin'ichi muttered, panting and sagging his shoulders with a sigh. Flipping open his cell phone, he pressed a speed dial button and said, "Got him, Hattori. Bring everyone over here and tell the old man she's alright." Then, snapping the phone closed, he made his way to the curtains, removed the ropes that gathered them, then crossed the Persian rug and bound the murderer's hands and feet. The only thing left to do was wake Ran.

Such a task would seem simple enough to those who did not know her well; Mouri Ran had the unfortunate tendency to sleep like the dead, so with a sedative in her system, she was as good as comatose. Shin'ichi scratched his head, knowing he had his hands full. With a sigh, he ambled to the golden, plush couch where Ran lay and dropped onto the edge beside her. "Hey, Ran, wake up," he said with a groan, the futility of it obvious as soon as he tried. He grabbed her shoulders next and gave them a gentle, then firm shake. "C'mon, wake up."

Shin'ichi groaned again, running his fingers through his hair. She was not moving.

Well, not entirely. Lying in the purple chiffon dress Ran wore to her friend Sonoko's dinner, her back arched slightly to accommodate a large, silk bow, sharpening the rise and fall of her stomach. Her blue eyes also darted beneath her drawn eyelids, suggesting REM sleep. She was probably dreaming.

Now Shin'ichi was by no means prone to illogical thoughts because, like his hero Sherlock Holmes, he had no patience for them. Still, with the way Ran rose and fell on the wave of slumber, one arm lying delicately across her chest, and the way that, despite her drugged state, a rosy glow still touched her cheeks and lips, Shin'ichi wondered if he should just let her sleep. Brushing aside a few errant strands of hair from her forehead, he smiled. Though she always looked peaceful when she slept—in a sleeping bag when they were little, on one of the Agency couches, or even propped against a blossoming cherry tree—he felt relieved to notice, since they no longer kept secrets from each other, that peace shone in her every waking smile.

Ba-bump.

An idea struck him, a crazy idea he immediately rejected as stupid, but the thought skipped his heart a beat. Breathing a bit harder, Shin'ichi glanced back at the mahogany grandfather clock. Maybe two minutes had passed, maybe three. In either case, only another bare minute remained until half of Beika crashed into the room. He should leave Ran be. This was not some children's fairy tale, with the knight defeating a fiery dragon to awaken the slumbering princess.

But he could not ignore that, with each warm breath escaping from Ran's parted lips, she looked more and more beautiful.

Shin'ichi, shaking his head to snap out of it, reached over the sofa's side and took Ran's limp hand, lifting it to meet the other. The effect made him catch his breath. And in the end, it called to mind the times their own story felt like—but that was ridiculous. Blushing furiously, he fought to ignore his racing pulse and almost wished everyone would just get here already.

And yet, gazing at her peacefully sleeping face, with its strawberry cream complexion, and that drowsy smile on her . . . Shin'ichi had to admit that kissing Ran was becoming his weakness.

His heart leaping to his throat, Shin'ichi leaned forward, hesitated, then touched his lips to hers.

For a moment, there was nothing. It was kind of odd, and it almost felt wrong, to be embracing her while she was dead to the world. Shin'ichi might have begun to wonder what those folklorists were thinking if he was not privately enjoying it. It did not take long, however, to gain a response, signaling that Ran had finally come to, and then came a muffled gasp, and then—

WHAM!

A blow slammed into Shin'ichi's solar plexus like a jackhammer, sending him flying across the room; in surreal slow motion, he arced over the prone murderer, then backflipped and landed smack on his butt. Time sped back to normal as Shin'ichi skidded across the waxed floor and crashed into the formerly priceless china cabinet. With each crash and blinding white flash, he could only pray to escape without severed arteries or internal bleeding.

A gulp sounded in the aftermath. "Oh . . . S-Shin'ichi?"

Coughing painfully, the great detective staggered to his knees, one eye shut under the strain of ragged breathing. Ran looked blurry at first, but then she came into focus; she was gaping in horror, her fists still clenched and her right knee buckled after it could well have gone through Shin'ichi's midsection and torn a hole.

Ran flushed blood red. "D-d-don't scare me like that! I thought you were the—t-the . . ." she trailed off, shivering, in spite of the steam that began to puff around her burning head.

At that perfect moment, Heiji, Kogorou, Sonoko, her family, and the Tokyo police threw the double doors open and stormed in; Shin'ichi used all his strength to point toward the now conscious, but groggy, Watanabe and his unused poison tablet. Though Heiji only needed one double-take to assess the situation, making him clap a hand over his mouth and double over laughing, with Sonoko soon catching the drift and snickering, Kogorou stood over Shin'ichi with the unique look of disdain he saved for his rival and his daughter's boyfriend. With a snort, he muttered, "What happened to you?"

Shin'ichi and Ran glanced at each other, but broke off in hot blushes, muttering two different stories to themselves: "I tripped on the coffee table—" "I got a little, um, confused in my sleep—". Still, after a moment, Shin'ichi smiled at her from the corner of his eye and, catching her do the same, fought the urge to chuckle.

"Actually, it was nothing," Shin'ichi finally said with a grin, leaving Kogorou as puzzled and suspicious as before, "nothing . . . just an errant knight."

After all, there was no way Shin'ichi would dare try that again—not with the karate princess.

Sorry for not posting this until now! It had already been sitting as a 2nd Draft version in 30Kisses for a good week until I discovered, alas, there's been no time to revise it to death as I'd like. Enjoy, and please review!