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!
Akako Koizumi's comment that his aura looked "very interesting today" had not helped his morning off to a good start.
It also did not help that his insides would start doing giddy flip-flops and some silly little thing inside his head would start jumping up and down whenever he thought about getting kissed. Which was very, very often--he couldn't put it out of his mind. But the other side of the coin was that whenever he thought about getting kissed, he thought about Aoko--and whenever he thought about Aoko, he thought about the way she sat there in her desk so lifelessly...
In the desk next to Aoko's, Kaito tried not to fidget, tried not to look at her, and tried not to worry about her. He'd known exactly the reason she was late this morning, no matter what excuses her father had called in with. Though when she did show up, the silence had unnerved him--she barely even said "hi" to him, wouldn't even look at him--and he couldn't help but sense how upset she was.
Dammit, I knew it was gonna hurt her...
He gave himself another firm mental kick for letting it get out of control. He would not let one unfinished drink be his excuse; he should have stopped her before it got out of hand--he should have stayed on top of his own emotions and kept her from hurting herself by doing what she did. He was the one to blame for this--she'd been way more inebriated than him, he could tell, and he should have been responsible enough to stop before it turned into a who-knows-how-many-minutes-long makeout session with a girl he knew for a fact hated his other identity.
Though...the idea that she could so willingly embrace the Kid--even drunk--was somehow disturbing. It made him feel...strangely jealous. She'd been kissing the mask, when he wanted to be the one--
I'm not gonna finish that thought.
He glanced at her again as the teacher droned on obliviously, catching the shadows in her eyes and wincing inwardly. He'd woken up with a good headache himself, and hadn't been nearly as bad as she was last night--he could hardly imagine how sick she'd been this morning. Not to mention she was probably disgusted with herself for throwing herself at a stranger--Kaitou Kid, no less. But with alcohol drowning her inhibitions, she had spoken what she really felt--and had reacted to him with such zeal that he couldn't help but be drawn in...
Swallowing hard, he immediately directed his eyes back to the book in front of him, hoping his face wasn't going red. Every time he looked at her his mind would yank him back to the previous evening--the feel of her body against him, the heat of her lips on his--and he feared that his desire for more of the same would show in his eyes. He'd had a hard time getting to sleep last night, with the memory of her tingling all across his skin...and he'd fought off dreams of that dark bathroom, letting his slumbers turn to nightmares of being caught by Nakamori rather than risk entering that doorway again--no matter how much part of him wanted to go back in there and finish what he'd started--
I am not going to finish that thought either.
With the clarity that morning brought, he'd realized what a tremendous risk it had been. The two of them, drunk and alone and with the way she had broken through his defenses like that... Any time he thought about where that could've gone, a quickening tingle would skitter through his belly. If they had been in a hotel instead of a business, or in an office instead of a cold dark bathroom--aw, hell, even if the cops hadn't interrupted...
I wasn't as drunk as she was, but I was sloshed enough I might've done something way more than stupid...shit, and in the state she was in she might have just let me--
I am not going to finish that thought. Never.
This was not like him at all; frustrated, Kaito buried his nose in his book. The might-have-been was too terrifying to contemplate...yet his brain would continually spin in little hamster-circles and drag him back to the same perverted little teenage thoughts over and over. Stupid hormones--and stupid him for giving them fuel for the fire; stupid stupid stupid him for letting Aoko make a fool of herself. It was all his fault she felt like this, and he couldn't even keep his thoughts away from what he wanted--when he really should be thinking about what she needed.
He couldn't believe that one drunken kiss had the power to turn him into some kind of addict--so much that he couldn't even stop thinking about her. Even as horribly guilty as he felt, he caught himself drifting into the memory of her kiss again and again, wishing he could touch her once more. The feeling was almost frightening in its intensity; he'd never craved anything like this before.
Perhaps this was why he'd subconsciously resisted the concept for so long--his heart of hearts knew how he felt about Aoko, and the moment he let himself break that wall was the moment he'd never be able to resist her again.
And she hadn't resisted, not any of it; she hadn't hauled back and clocked him a good one for touching her, hadn't shrieked at him for presuming to hold her. The way she had accepted him--even the way the insistent press of her lips wordlessly demanded more--had set free something that before now he'd kept locked away in the back of his mind. Something that he'd ruthlessly stomped on for the longest time, from the instant he'd realized what it was, because it was something that he'd thought would drive her away from him.
But with the way she had kissed him last night, he'd begun to doubt that Aoko was as untouchable as he'd always thought. He'd never known that she could provoke such feelings in him--with just a kiss, she made fireworks inside him. Dancing butterflies of nerves and tidal waves of emotion. And she'd blown him away with the power of her kiss--she could be as passionate as she was fiery, and he'd never realized how deep into the heart of the flames he could go...
Ack--you moron, don't think about that. Do not think at all. Just listen to Sensei and don't look at Aoko.
Fat lot of good that did.
He just kept thinking about her--and the more he thought about her the worse he felt, because he knew she felt even more awful than he did. She didn't know the whole truth, couldn't know the whole truth, and there was nothing he could do to ease the pain of her shattered feelings.
To be continued...