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


Daybreak

Sherry watches the rough, black cloth slide against Gin's scantly-covered buttocks as he pulls up his trousers. His hands dance around to fasten the matching black belt. Her gaze locks on his back. Crimson lines run down the soft, pale skin. The buckle clinks.

'What a stereotype,' she remarks. Gin tilts his head. A flash of green peeks at her from behind the fair-colored cascade of hair. She rolls to her back. The thick, winter bedsheets fall from her naked torso and the chilly morning air grazes her skin, hardening her nipples only slightly. She doubts he'd notice if not through touch.

'What is?'

'This.' She pauses for dramatism, then declaims, 'He who coldly leaves before the dew could set, a blushing damsel left behind to yearn for his return...'

The matress bounces back at Gin's timid weight. Not much for a man his height and muscle mass, she knows. It never was. Closing her eyes, the twiggy boy she first met long ago still pops up. Ash-blond, waist-long hair, thinnest of lips, bright green eyes. Those green eyes.

The same he struggles to look at in the mirror so much more often than she'd like.

Gentle fingertips run along her jaw. Sherry reaches up blindly and a slender hand guides hers to hold Gin's cheek.

'Where'd you read that?'

'Made it up.'

'Wow.'

A silence. Sherry rolls back to her side and throws her free arm around his hips.

'You write that down.'

'You sure you can drive?'

The hand circling her temples makes its way into the auburn of her hair. Sherry opens her eyes at last, but Gin's gaze avoids hers uncomfortably.

'You barely slept.'

A dry, affected laugh tightens the corners of his mouth and rattles out of his nose.

'Only one thing on my mind...'

'You'll make it back.'

Gin's grin dies away. He gazes down at Sherry. She holds his stare.

'I know you will.'

'Why?'

Sherry's hand leaves the man's face and clasps her own crotch.

'There's somethig for you to come back to, isn't there?'

Sherry smiles at the true laugh that Gin lets out. He bends forward and places a soft peck on her cheek.

'There is,' he concedes, his hand swinging out of her hair to rest on her chest, barely an inch under her left breast.

'You know it's more of a conceit, right?' she questions.

'Heavens forbid I didn't.'

'You'll come back. You always do.'

'I promise.'

The night still lingers outside Sherry's apartment.