DISCLAIMER: The entire Detective Conan series belong to Gosho Aoyama. This is a non-profit fanwork.

Content Warnings: drunk characters, explicit mentions of sex, foul language, mentions of alcohol.

The importance of 'yes' (28/8/17)

No sooner had Gin walked into his apartment than his foot hit some piece of furniture. The pain lasted just as long as the brief blow. Internally, he thanked alcohol.


Maybe not so internally.

'What did you just thank alcohol for?' Sherry insisted. Gin's hand felt its way against the wall until he found the nearest switch. Once the hall was appropriately lit, he invited Sherry in with a hand gesture. The woman's hips swung heavily as she stumbled into the apartment.

'Alcohol,' he spoke, averting his eyes from her butt. 'I mean, the bang. I mean, it's th-thanks to alcohol that my foot doesn't… doesn't hurt.'

Sherry made an impish smile.

'So you're saying you're drunk.'

'We both are.'

Unintentionally proving his point, Sherry tripped over her own feet and had to push her right hand against a wall to restore her balance.

'I knew we'd end up like this,' she claimed, running her free hand clumsily through her hair. Gin watched the reddish-brown locks slide between her fingers, mesmerized. 'Damn cocktail night.'

'But it's… it's been mice, I mean, nice' he argued. Sherry's drowsy eyes glanced at him. 'And the cab got here fast.'

'And we dindt… didn't fall asleep in eth… in the cab. Not this time. Now, lest… let's go to bed,' she proposed. Her breasts jiggled as she started walking towards the exit of the hall.

'Do you wanna sober up and fuck?'

Sherry stopped halfway through the small room and turned towards him.

'I can make coffee and tea so we can… so we can s-sober up faster,' he offered.

'We're drunk as skunks, dear,' she noted, arching her eyebrows. 'By the time we sober up, you won't remember why you watend… wanted to in the first place.'

'I won't!' Gin protested, pouting his lips like a child. 'I mean, I won't not remember. I mean, I will remember. It's because you're looking very sexy tonight in that red dress.' Sherry peeped down at her outfit. 'It's so tight I'm dying to have us sober up so I can tear it off and fuck your sweet, wet pussy…' Feeling the blood hurrying to his cheeks and crotch, Gin gestured with a hand, as if pushing such thoughts away. 'Don't get me started.'

'I didn't.' Sherry shrugged her shoulders. She had folded her arms and leaned against the wall, but a wide grin adorned her face. He noticed she, too, had blushed, even if only slightly. 'Alcohol did. You know you often think with your dick when you're drunk.'

'Only sometimes,' he retorted, his pride hurt. 'But you know that doesn't mean I don't want you when I'm sober!'

Sherry laughed heartily.

'I know,' she acknowledged. 'I know you're head over heels in love with me. And I'm head over heels in love with you.' Gin blushed harder. She extended her hand towards him. 'Come, let's go to bed.'

Gin nodded and closed the distance between them in a few steps. As soon as their hands grazed, Sherry's fingers tangled around his. They felt soft and warm.

'By the way…'


'That thing about thinking with my dick when I'm drunk…'

'You know it's true.'

'I was going to say it was funny and ironic, because alcohol is a common cause of erectile disfunction.'

'Tell that to the bulge in your pants.'

Gin's grip around Sherry's hand tigthened out of embarrassment.

'You thought I hadn't seen it?' she bragged.

'I've been trying to ignore it for a while – and I thought you'd do the same.'

'How could I!' With a smirk, she added, 'After all, you know I often think with my pussy when I'm drunk.'

Gin sighed and started to walk out of the hall. Sherry, without letting his hand go, followed him.

'Let's go to bed,' he suggested.

'To sleep, or to fuck?'

'To sleep. Don't worry, we'll have our chance to fuck tomorrow. And the day after tomorrow. And the day after that…'

Sherry giggled.

'So basically every day.'

He smirked.

'As long as we both want, why not?'