Disclaimer: As usual, I'm just borrowing Gosho Aoyama's genius and taking the characters out to play. I don't own any of this, so don't sue me; you wouldn't get much more than a basket of laundry anyways. ^_^ Enjoy this weird bit of reading!

In Vino Veritas
by Becky Tailweaver

Part 3

His own intoxicated state not helping in the least, Kaito's brain went into hard reboot when Aoko lurched forward to press her lips to his. It promptly failed to come back online, resulting in a full processing system crash. Aoko--his fiery, temperamental, unromantic, chase-him-with-a-mop Aoko--was kissing him full on the mouth without an iota of hesitation. The automatic circuits kicked on at about that time, assisted by the alcohol, and his response was involuntary--perhaps even instinctive.

Kiss her back, fool!

So he did. His arms went around her like they had a will of their own--which they probably did at this point--and pulled her even closer against him, if that were possible. He might never have reacted that way had he not been hazy from that drink, but with just enough to get him over the hurdle of inhibition, he gave in to the urge and went with it; something in the back of his mind--something he'd always ignored and fought down and shoved aside--told him that he'd been wanting to do this for a very long time.

Her fervent reaction to his intially tentative response made him want to go even deeper, and her soft, low moan made something hot spin through him. The way she seemed to welcome him--opening to him and drawing him in like the pull of a whirlpool--only excited him more, flooding him with the shaky tingle of adrenaline and an incredible sense of need. One kiss turned into many kisses melded into one, no longer anything like tentative; his hands spread across her shoulders and descended, finding the open back of her dress--When did she start wearing things like this?--and as he roamed lower he wished to high heaven he wasn't wearing those dratted gloves.

The still-rational part of him realized he wasn't supposed to be doing this--that this was absolutely insane and he was on a heist right then and this was Aoko for crying out loud. That part tried to warn him, but the rest of him--being perfectly happy that this was Aoko--objected to that idea and ignored it. He didn't care if this was something he never would have done on his own--it was happening now and he was helplessly caught up in it. Willingly caught up in it.

Her hands drifted, always clinging tight yet somehow so soft, running across his shoulders, his neck, through his hair--putting him at the risk of losing his hat and if she recognized him he was dead but it just didn't matter anymore--and he almost couldn't believe that this was Aoko, but he knew it was her; she smelled and felt and tasted like Aoko, nothing but Aoko filling all his senses.

He'd never thought anything like this was possible. He didn't know her touch would make him feel this way. He didn't realize her kiss could do this to him. He could feel her hands, her lips, her warmth, every soft line and curve of her; all he knew was Aoko and all he wanted was more--this was going somewhere he'd never been before but it was gonna be one hell of a ride, and they were both eyes wide shut and rushing full speed into the center of it all...

...and she was leaning back against the sinks and her hand in his hair made his hat fall off and oh shit he could hear men's voices and that meant someone was coming and if anybody found them like this he was gonna get shot not just arrested 'cause he was the Kid not Kaito and besides she was drunk and he shouldn't be doing this when she didn't know what she was doing because his Aoko would never kiss the Kid and it would hurt her when she was sober again and goddamn his stupid drunken brain for letting him--

The mask of Kid once more reasserted itself over Kaito. He wanted nothing more than to stay right where he was--but somehow he found the strength to stop.

It was harder than he'd thought--so much harder, and not just because of her arms around him. On the contrary--she hadn't been expecting him to leave so soon, so her grasp was broken the moment he moved back. What made it most difficult was the invisible, intangible pull Aoko seemed to exert on him, something that was almost a physical sensation, as if she were magnetized and drawing him to her. He couldn't understand how it could be so strong.

Then there was the fiery swirl that pounded through his own blood, completely new and strange to him--welcome and unwelcome, frightening and thrilling--as clear and unmistakable as the moon on a crystal night, as hot and powerful as the sun on a summer's day. It almost hurt not to go back to her.

Shit. I've got to get out of here before I do something really stupid.

Throat dry, breaths coming deep and ragged, he stepped back from her, just barely managing to snatch up his hat. Gotta go--if they catch us it'll give Nakamori-san a reason to kill me instead of just chasing me around...

She didn't move--she was still sitting against the sink counter, perfectly still, her head lowered. "Jerk..." she muttered, and he almost couldn't hear her. "I caught you..."

They both jumped when they heard the next door slam, the sounds of policemens' voices indicating that they were doing a room-by-room search of the general area he'd last been seen.

Damn. And he didn't want to leave Aoko like this--drunk and alone in a darkened bathroom to be found in such a state by a bunch of cops from her father's squad...

But they were coming, and even if Kaito wanted to stay, the Kaitou Kid could not be caught. So he had to run. Damn that miserable fact, but he had to run.

"Sorry for the intrusion, miss," he said in as even a voice as he could muster. "Perhaps we'll meet again."

She twitched, and he wondered if she was crying. "I hate you. I hope Dad locks you up and throws away the key."

She was crying, he could hear it in her voice. He didn't say anything more, but as the handle of the bathroom door began to click, he dove for the wall and leaped, cursing the muzziness that made him stumble. He yanked back the high, small bathroom window and squeezed through it, the cops opening the door behind barely catching a glimpse of the edge of his cape.

By then he was diving off the ledge outside, activating his hang-glider and praying that the problems with driving while drunk wouldn't get him killed. He just wanted to make it home in one piece to sleep off this whole unbelievable incident--and the entire way, his mind was filled with Aoko.

The bathroom was now flooded with lights and concerned officers. Still sitting against the sinks, arms wrapped tight around herself, Aoko cried silent tears and refused to respond to anyone.

To be continued...