Murphy's Law

Chapter 2 — Phone Call

By Crystal Snowflakes

Conan took a gulp of his coffee and resisted the urge to spit it back out when it burned his tongue. Setting the mug back onto the table as discreetly as possible and hoping that she hadn't seen the embarrassing display, he forced his gaze away from her to study their surroundings instead.

The bell hung on the entrance door tinkled every time it opened, and he made sure to keep a careful eye on the ongoings of the occasional patrons—of who was entering and who was leaving. Throughout all this, the rich aroma of coffee and tea as well as fresh baked goods filled the air. Mahogany bookcases against the farthest wall were filled to the brim with books with the occasional shelf filled with teacups as decor.

He had grown to enjoy these quiet Saturday mornings that they spent together when neither of them had to work. It was peaceful, listening to the quiet chatterings of the staff, to the droning whirr of the coffee grinder, to the soft classical pieces playing through the speakers. He noted the gradually growing crowds of people walking outside under the dull grey winter skies and was once again thankful that he didn't have to go to work today.

His hand grasped the mug as he took a much smaller sip this time around before taking a bite of his ham and cheese croissant. And while he had planned on reading the mystery novel he had purchased a while back that was currently sitting next to his coffee, his gaze couldn't help but drift towards her.

She was entranced by the novel in her hands, and her eyes darted along the words as her wrist flicked to the next page every so often. Her top teeth were gnawing on her bottom lip, a look of intense concentration on her face, and her eyebrows furrowed as a curtain of silky hair fell from behind her ear.

A strong wave of affection for her washed over him.

And while he knew it had taken them years and a lot of guilt and suffering to get here, he could honestly say that he would never trade it for anything in the world. It felt like everything had fallen into place, even though there were nights he woke up, terrified, wondering when they would find him—find them—and dispose of them.

Unwittingly, his hands went into his jacket pockets. And then he had to refrain himself from cursing under his breath. The velvet-smooth surface of the ring box could be felt by the back of his fingers. It was the object that had bothered him the last three weeks—the object that had caused him to lose countless sleep the last twenty-one nights. It sat snugly in his pocket, and he had somehow forgotten that it was there.

He was suddenly tempted to just pull it out and ask again.

Because he hadn't asked 'tomorrow' like he had initially planned to, three weeks ago—nor did he ask the day after that. He had been so obsessed with the idea that it had to be perfect, that it had to be under the perfect setting, that he had postponed asking. And then a day turned into two, and two turned into three, and three turned into twenty-one.

It was difficult enough for the two of them to sit down and spend time together, with his and her workaholic schedules. But having to actually plan a time together in a nice setting where she wouldn't expect a proposal? It was almost impossible. Especially now that she knew what was coming.

And therein lay the real problem. He wanted it to be perfect while surprising her, but the opportunity for that had sailed away three weeks ago.

He thumbed the lid of the box and tried to gather his wits, because he could suddenly feel his own blood pulsing haphazardly through his veins. Would it be so bad if he asked now? Sure, they were just at a simple coffee shop, but at the very least, she wouldn't be expecting it. Right?

His stomach clenched tightly, and he cleared his throat, almost nervously.

She looked up, one of her dark eyebrows raised gracefully and he wondered, not for the first time, how she managed to look so dignified even with that expression on her face.

"Do I have something on my face?" she asked, her tone teasing as her eyes glowed with ill-concealed mirth. "You've been staring at me for five minutes, Tantei-san."

"Uh…" he stammered, almost squirming in his chair. His face felt hot and at the sound of her gentle laughter, he pulled his hand—the one not holding tightly onto the ring box—out of his pocket to press against the nerves of his temple.

She was the only person who could turn him into a bumbling fool without even trying.

The corners of her lips tugged upwards, her smile spreading wider, and he couldn't stop his heart from stuttering or his chest from squeezing tightly at the sight of her bright blue eyes dancing in amusement. And not for the first time, he wondered how it was possible that she was still with him—how she had continued to choose to stay with him. He knew she deserved more than urgent midnight phone calls and interrupted dates, more than last-minute cancellations and sometimes days of disappearance with no call backs.

"Well?" she hummed, slipping the bookmark in her novel before refocusing her attention on him, her head tilted slightly to one side.

He reached over the table to tuck a lock of loose hair behind her ear, and a tinge of pink coloured her cheekbones. She tried to duck her head, but his fingers grasped her chin and tilted her head up gently so that his steady gaze could meet hers.

"Ai."

"Yes, Corpse Magnet?" she asked in her usual dry tone, but it was obvious to him that she seemed almost shy.

And then before he could lose his nerve again, he took a deep breath to steady his pounding heart. He dropped his hand to capture the back of her hand as his thumb rubbed slow circles on her wrist against her pulse point; she didn't pull away.

"Thanks for coming out for morning breakfast with me," he murmured, his voice cracking a bit from nervousness. At the sight of her mouth opening to interrupt, he shook his head, his fingers squeezing her hand slightly to stop her from talking. "And for coming to crime scenes with me. And just spending time with me in general."

It gave him great satisfaction to watch the blush on her cheeks grow darker; she had always had a hard time accepting any kind of compliment or appreciation.

"I know most of the time, you'd rather be sitting at home with a magazine and a nice cup of tea," he continued, a small smirk tugging at his lips when she didn't try to deny it. "But you know that I enjoy having you beside me during cases. And as a general rule, I enjoy my time more when you're next to me."

With his hand deep in his pocket, his fingers gripping the ring box tightly, he took the plunge, taking it out in one swift movement. Her eyes widened a fraction before her mouth quirked into a gentle smile.

And then just as he was about to ask the question that he had yet to actually ask, the familiar sound of her ringtone rang, the noise slightly muffled from being in her purse.

He froze and she blinked.

Damn it.

When it was clear that whoever was calling wasn't going to hang up at any time, she grabbed the phone out of her bag, silencing the ringtone. "It's Ayumi," she explained.

Before he could help it, a strangled moan of exasperation escaped, and the ring box returned to his pocket. "Go ahead, pick up. I know you two had plans for the afternoon."

She shot him an apologetic look. "Hold your thoughts for a minute?"

His fingers ran through his hair as he gave her a pained grin. "I'll hold them for a little longer than that."

"Don't wait another three weeks, okay?" she murmured, the corners of her lips lifting slightly, before she answered the call with her usual greeting.

Sighing, he slouched back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. When he had thought to himself that he'd be willing to ask over and over again, he had meant it figuratively. He hadn't actually planned to ask more than once—now it looked like he was going to have to do it a third time.

Damn.

Completed: April 7, 2020