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It started with a lie about sandwiches.
Shinichi dragged his feet on his way back to the Mouri Detective Agency, staring at his reflection in the windows of the passing shops. He’d tucked the Conan glasses into his pocket, so the figure that stared back at him from the glass was more himself than usual.
Or was it less?
He’d been Conan for so long now he was starting to lose track—the little details of who he was before and who he was now bleeding together. Did Shinichi still like coffee cake, or had he pretended to love turnovers and chocolate croissants so long his tastes had actually changed?
One day would everything that had made him Shinichi just be gone?
He didn’t realize he’d stopped in front of the Poirot Cafe until his reflection disappeared, replaced by a smiling face on the other side of the glass. Rei tipped his head curiously, beckoning him inside. Shinichi dredged up a return smile, slipping inside.
Rei was one of the few people in the world who knew who Shinichi really was. Also one of the few people who had more lies to keep track of than he did.
“Good timing,” Rei said with a wave, flipping the sign to closed behind him. “I messed up one of the sandwich orders this afternoon. You can help me get rid of the evidence.”
Shinichi knew it was a lie the second the plate of triangular sandwich halves appeared. It was his favorite—a type of sweet curry salad that just about everybody but Shinichi turned their nose up at. Nobody would have ordered anything like it.
He was strangely touched, though. And he offered Rei a wry smile as he sat down at the bar. “I’ve never met anyone else who likes these,” he said.
Rei took the seat next to him, propping one hand under his chin. “I don’t think we’re going to add it to the regular menu,” he admitted with a thoughtful hum.
It was delicious, tangy, and just the right amount of savory and sweet. While he ate, Rei told Shinichi about a couple of the customers who had come in that day—including one man who had apparently accidentally double scheduled dates with two women at the same time.
“Or,” Rei finished, looking smug, “maybe someone snagged his phone when he wasn’t looking and texted them both to set him up. I’m just saying that’s the kind of thing that happens when someone’s loudly being an asshole in a public café.” He winked conspiratorially at Shinichi, who couldn’t help but laugh.
Maybe it wasn’t the very best use of Rei’s PSB training, but it was satisfying. The sound of his own laughter surprised him a little, and Shinichi found himself setting the second half of the sandwich aside.
“Something wrong?” Rei asked, eyebrows drawn.
“You didn’t mess up an order. You made this for me.” Shinichi gestured to the plate. He didn’t know why it was suddenly so important to press Rei on this point. But he had to know.
Rei blinked as though that wasn’t what he had been expecting.
“You heard somehow what I…what Shinichi…liked—likes, and you made it. You didn’t have to do that. And I can pay for it properly, and…”
Rei looked thrown for a moment. Then he ran his hand through his hair, tossing it back with a heavy sigh. “Shinichi…”
Shinichi flinched, ready for what came next. He knew he was too stubborn. That you were supposed to just accept gestures like this. That always looking for the motives behind everything was worse than being ungrateful. But how else were you ever supposed to be sure you understood what was happening. He just didn’t want to owe anybody anything.
Why are you like this, Shinichi? His mom had asked that in utter exasperation on more than one occasion—especially when Shinichi declared he would do things his own way. It had also been a favorite refrain of his teachers, on everything from why he refused to show his work on math problems—because it was an unnecessary waste of time, obviously—to the school nurse demanding to know how long Shinichi’s throat had hurt before sending him home with blisters from untreated strep.
Even his friends would get fed up with him, when he turned them down too many times or deduced a little too honestly. Everyone eventually threw their hands up in exasperation and left.
“Oh, Shinichi,” Rei repeated again, “what am I going to do with you.” But he was smiling and he reached out, mussing both his hands in Shinichi’s hair with a fake growl. “You’re too observant. Just finish the sandwich.”
Shinichi reached hesitantly for it. “I could at least—”
“If you offer to pay me again,” Rei warned, “I’m going to give you a noogie.” His eyebrows were raised in a way that said, I’m a secret agent, just try me.
And Shinichi couldn’t help but laugh again. That also probably wasn’t the best use of Rei’s PSB skills, but Shinichi had to admit, he made a delicious curry sandwich—just the way Shinichi liked it.