A/N: Don't try to think too hard about this verse. Just know that Conan's an abandoned cat and Kid takes him home.

A series of drabbles to illustrate this verse. Something done just for fun~

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01.Hello

"Hello! My name is Kid, what's your name?" He smiles despite the silence and holds the soft, little hands. The boy in front of him doesn't blink, just stares at the space above his shoulder.

Kid decides to try again, mouth turned up gently. "What's your name?"

Conan was the name engraved on the coin hanging from the collar.

His ears flicker once and his long tail slithers into a coil on the carpet floor. There's still no answer.

Typical behavior of abandoned cats…

Kid sighs and lets Conan's hands fall back to his side.

02. Material

Before sleeping, the weirdo– his name was Kid, right?– turned his sofa into Conan's bed, lining it with fluffy pillows and a heavy comforter. Conan sits on his makeshift bed.

The sofa is cold, the material itches his skin, there's not enough space.

He opens the door, trots towards the bed, and shoves.

"What–" Kid is barely awake, sputtering on air, and Conan throws his legs off the bed to join the rest of him on the floor. There's a huff but Conan rolls to his side, pulling the warm sheets over his head before he curls up.

03. Over

It's been over a week and the kitten still doesn't talk to him, still ignores him. His eyes are empty with shadows plaguing the skin below the blue. He eats, but barely.

Sleep and Kid's bed are his best friends– (Kid still hasn't reclaimed it since he's kicked him out into the living room.)

It's past midnight and Kid wonders if he can sneak into his room to finish a thesis due tomorrow. He pushes the door open, makes sure the small lump doesn't wake, and scurries to his desk to boot up his computer.

04. Clock

It's morning and the weirdo is gone.

Conan watches the clock hand tick. The sound is loud in the silence and grates on his nerves– unpleasant memories resurface when there's nothing to distract himself with.

He decides to relocate furniture. He moves the clock to the sofa, the vase onto the table, the pots and pans…he'll just scatter on the floor.

He stares at his handiwork and the memories still haunt him.

He's done enough today, he's tired, and he's alone–

Conan climbs into the covers and tries to forget with the warm smell of cinnamon wafting from the pillow.

05. Pieces

The door slams behind him and Kid drops his duffel bag, heavy with the equipment of a Kaitou Kid heist. Hand on the wall feeling for the light switch, Kid flips it up and then wishes he didn't.

His living room is in pieces. Kid swallows a sigh– he'll clean this later– and heads to his room.

Curled on his bed is the kitten, wrapped between the covers and choking on watery sobs. He'll tell him off later, not now.

Comfort is not his forte but Kid sits near him, lets him lean on his chest, and strokes his back.

06. Here

It smells really good here. Conan's ear flicks and he burrows closer to the warmth and the inviting spice. There's steady warmth enveloping him and for a minute, Conan thinks he's back home under a quilted blanket and being cuddled with, but–

The dream is shattered and he wakes up, muscles tense, tail stiff and–

He kicks. There's a heavy thud and a startled shout. Covers, pillows, and bed sheets are dragged in an avalanche and collapses over the edge.

Conan opens his mouth to cuss but his throat clenches at the reminder of home and he sighs instead.

07. Lines

Kid sits back on his chair and stares at the thick book propped on his lap. Long equations and complex graphs start to warp and Kid gives up on homework for today– it isn't due until next week anyways.

He looks over his shoulder and finds Conan perched on his bed, knees drawn up to his chest, fingers drawing lines into the fluffy comforter. His ear twitches and his long tail– with a curious bend near the tip– swishes.

"Are you hungry? I'll make lunch."

Kid smiles at the distance stare.

Conan ducks his head, eyes never leaving the sheets. His tail, however, draws shapes of its own. Kid had figured that's how Conan says yes.

08. Coffee

Conan's eyes are shut when he hears the door creak open and footsteps thud to the desk. The desk light glows a warm yellow and Conan sits up and rubs his eyes.

"Sorry, did I wake you up?" The weirdo says as his mouse makes soft clicks. "You can go back to sleep."

Conan doesn't say anything but sleepily watches the numerous computer monitors fade from black to diagrams and newspaper clippings. Should go back to sleep, Conan thinks, but he gets distracted by the mug Kid is holding.

There's a quiet slurp and a clack as the cup is set back on the desk. Conan blinks as he recognizes the smell.

Ah.

He slides out from the covers and steps closer to the desk. Conan stands near his shoulder, seeing diagram of a museum, websites of jewels, newspaper clippings of a heist note on the screens.

Not important, he thinks and turns his attention to the desk surface.

"Wait– that's mine–"

Conan ignores his protests, turns, and retreats back to his bed with a warm cup steaming between his hands.

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1. Kid is the same as Kaitou Kid, he steals jewels and such.

Anyways thanks for reading! This will be updated whenever I feel like drabbling. Just a little exercise and a story to go with a picture I drew. C: (Which can be seen on my deviantart btw.)

Comments are candy and love! I most appreciate it!