Prompt: In response of a Twitter request for a drabble (ha) with the prompt: she steals his shirts and he's like ? where ? are my clothes ? going ?

A/N: So I gave up trying to make this a decent fic ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

To: Dee ur the best headcanon buddy, sorry i kinda ruined this whoops.

This is ridiculous.

Shinichi groans in utter frustration as he fights his way out of the messy pile of discarded clothes carelessly thrown all over the room. A guttural curse comes out of his lips when his left foot gets caught up on a pair of jeans lying on the floor and, stepping on the vinyl jacket his father gifted him for this twenty-first birthday—which, by the way, he hates with all his might and will burn to ashes inside the closest incinerator after this—he stumbles and slides two feet over the closet and fall on his rear before his elbow knocks down a carefully assorted box of bowties, which dramatically hits him in the face as they scatter all around the floor (together with his dignity).

On the bright side of things, he's 99.99% positive no one witnessed that.

The smartphone laying on the bed glows announcing a second unread message from Hattori, and the fuming detective concludes that no amount of wardrobe acrobatics is going to help his case. Resigned, the boy takes off to the living room where he finds his girlfriend cozily curled up in the sofa, reading a magazine.

"Hey Shiho," Shinichi's brows furrow as he approaches her, "Have you seen my shirts?"

The strawberry blonde barely lifts her gaze from the copy of ComCom in her hands, eyes flickering on his bare chest for a second too long before shifting back into her reading.

"No." She simply states.

Oi, oi…

He moves towards the girl and hovers over, the index of his right hand gently pulling her magazine down so that their eyes can meet.

"Think harder?" The young detective presses, lips curling into a beguiling smile.

She seems annoyed by the intruding gesture, yet somehow resigned to his persistence on the subject. With a frown on her lips and a pensive look on her eyes she admits, "I might have taken some dirty laundry out yesterday."

A triumphant smile crosses his lips. There, a progress on Kudo Shinichi's Curious Case of the Missing Dress Shirts. With newfound excitement, the boy inches closer in his eagerness to learn more.

"And…?"

"You can pick them up after 4 o'clock this afternoon." A polite nod, as if that settles things up, and she resumes to reading her magazine.

"What!? It's only eleven fifteen right now!"

Shiho's eyes briefly check on the clock hanging on the kitchen's wall before going back to her reading. "Mhm…" She hums in acknowledgment.

"I need to go out now!" He insists adamantly, "There's a murder case—"

"Well, you have three options," The girl interrupts, holding her fingers up as she counts, "One, you go downstairs and pick your dirty laundry back; two, just wear one of your T-shirts; three, buy a new shirt on your way there."

"I can't just show up looking like a mofo," He frowns, bewildered at the suggestion, "And I most certainly don't have the time to go on a shopping trip right now!"

Exasperated, the chemist finally puts her magazine down as she lets out a dramatic sigh, "Then what do you want me to do, Meitantei-san?"

Shinichi is about to protest when his eyes catch on a small, yet extremely important detail he didn't notice before. Bottomed up to her collarbone and sleeves rolled up to her elbows, the white shirt she's wearing is three sizes too big for her and… extremely familiar.

"Wait, what are you wearing?"

"Huh?"

Shiho takes a quick glance at her own clothes and upon realization her cheeks taint with a rosy hue. There's an awkward silence filled with don't you dare's and are you freaking kidding me's as they engage in a defiant staring contest.

"Well, since I went through the trouble of sorting out your smelly clothes, it's only common courtesy to lend me a shirt while my own laundry is done, isn't it?"

"Normally I wouldn't mind, but I really need that shirt now."

The strawberry blonde crosses her wrists defensively against her chest, brows creased with indignation, "No way, I'm wearing it already!"

Well, it's a dire situation, and drastic times call for drastic measures.

Shinichi's fingers curl around her fists, pulling away gently.

"Seriously, I'm in a hurry—"

"What are you—"

"That's… my shirt… to begin with!"

"K…Kudo-kun!"

Shinichi kneels down into the couch as she tries to squirm away from his grasp, but it backfires terribly: somewhere during their struggle he ends up straddling her hips and every time she writhes beneath him, the warmth of her skin brushes against his thighs in a most enticing manner. Suddenly her wrists are pinned down at both sides of her head and her strawberry blonde hair is sprawled over the armrest. Eyes wild and cheeks flushed a lovely shade of scarlet, she catches her bottom lip between her teeth as her brows knit into an anxious expression. Shinichi stares in a mix of awe and bewilderment —he's half naked, she's flustering hot and the goddamned phone on his bedroom won't shut up with the notifications reminding him that yes, he's running terribly late.

He lets go of her in a rush, staggering back on his feet and deeply ashamed of his actions. Honestly, what was he planning on doing just now, ripping the thing off her chest? Good grief.

"I'm sorry," Shinichi apologizes, mortified as his face go through all tones of red, "Ah, y-you can keep the shirt, nevermind."

He's about to leave when she calls him back.

"Wait, Kudo-kun."

Shiho's fingers run over her chest and start unbuttoning the shirt. At the sight, Shinichi's face burn red.

"O…Oi, y-you've got it wrong—"

"What?" She halts, a puzzled look on her face. The half-open shirt reveals a white tank top underneath. Drawn with realization of the implications behind his reaction, she blushes several shades darker and takes a deep, shaky breath, unfastening the resting buttons open, "You've got it wrong, you pervert! I'm just giving you your shirt back!"

And with that, she tosses the shirt over to him, it smacks him in right the face. The scent of her perfume lingers faintly on the fabric, making his stomach swirl with a different kind of hunger.

"Eh?" Wresting to free himself from the impromptu attack, he huffs, "I said you can keep it! Jeez."

The girl crosses her arms across her chest, cocking one brow. "Well you certainly seem to need it more than I do. And by the way, had you asked nicely, I would have said yes. You don't need to resort to such extremes as physically attacking me, let alone ripping the clothes off my back to make yourself presentable at work, Kudo-kun."

"Good Lord." Shinichi laments, "Can you not make it sound like I'm some kind of barbarian dragging you to a cave to take advantage of you? I'm sorry I got carried away."

"I forgive you."

He fights the urge to roll his eyes. "Thanks."

Throwing the shirt on hastily, the detective disappears into his bedroom for a minute. He comes back holding a piece of clothing.

"Here," he offers, "Wear this."

"What, not good enough for your fancy clothes, but good enough for your worn out T-shirts? Is this how you categorize your girlfriends, Kudo-kun?"

"Ha. Ha" He deadpans, "You're hilarious. Now be nice and put some clothes on."

"Or else?"

"Try me."

"Scary." She mocks before slipping into his T-shirt and sweeping her auburn locks out the collar.

"Remind me why I'm dating you again?"

She feigns considering the question, "Oh, gee. Where do I start—"

"That was a rhetorical question." Shinichi picks up a dark grey blazer and hurries to the door, a buzzing cellphone on one hand and car keys on the other. Before reaching the exit, he turns around and smiles tentatively.

"Can I have a kiss goodbye?"

"No." Voice impassive, full deadpan, comes her reply.

"Stingy as always." The man sighs, holding the door open to add, "Maybe I should have my T-shirt back too!"

"Maybe I should let you do your own laundry for the rest of your life!"

A smug grin hangs on his lips, "Ah? You plan on sticking by for so long? And here I was thinking—"

His words are cut short by a flying object she throws at him across the room. It misses his face for half an inch as he catches it midair. "Don't forget your wallet, you little—"

Shinichi looks at the catch. His wallet, indeed. How thoughtful.

The smirk on his lips widens, "I knew you were wife material."

Her face goes through all stages of flustered, "Not yours, though. Since I hate you."

His laugh resonates before he rushes out the room shouting, "Sure, sure. I love you too, darling!"

.

A/N:

Obligatory mention: Reviews are extremely appreciated!

- To that reviewer named Julia, you always leave comments as guest so i just wanted to say thanks for reviewing my other fics ilysm!

- Pablo if you're reading this I hope you're very pleased urself for dragging me back into this ship of doom.