Going Through the Motions - Oi, Kudo
He knew it was coming. There was just no way it wouldn't this time. And yes, that was because it happened every. damn. time. Honestly, who would have thought that that could be one of the many problems he would be facing after shrinking. Even as he hoped—prayed to whatever or whoever was listening that it would not occur this time. But—
But—
The door opens, and he braces himself.
"OI, KUDO—" next, the figure stiffens in realization just in time (well thank fuck), instantly attempting to cover up his error—for what could be like the millionth time (not that Shinichi keeps track, he has better things to do, thank you very much).
(Does that idiot never learn?).
And Shinichi slams his fist down on the table he's seated at, the other people in the room looking up startled from the documents they had been studying furiously, which contained the possible clues about the crime that had occurred only mere hours ago just outside the building.
(They are lucky he didn't use his face).
Somewhere behind him, he hears Ran whisper softly his name, surprise in her voice. Shinichi doesn't turn to look behind him, because enough is enough. Even he has his limits.
They need to talk. Now.
So he jumps off the chair (the damned height of the thing—or maybe he should blame his unbelievably short legs for that one. Ha), and stalks toward the door, gripping fistfuls of Hattori's jacket and dragging him along with more force than probably is necessary. He doesn't respond to the surprised yelp his friend lets out.
He has enough for now—or maybe for the week (the days were pilling up, after all, going on and on without a possible end to this misery of not able to reach the damn door handle, fruit juices, and scolding speeches). He has enough—including this ridiculous case (mayonnaise as the possible murder weapon? They got more creative every day). But at least there's Hattori's guilty expression that makes it all a little more tolerable (he should honestly have taken a picture of that priceless sight—maybe frame it, perhaps hang it on the wall of his room).
Who knew, could be fun.
A bit of a crackfic, because I write mostly sad stuff.