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Waiting for a Well to Dry by bubblygoo

Disclaimer: I do not own Magic Kaito or Detective Conan.

Although I tried to reject it, the waiter handed me the menu. He told me to take my time but also that the restaurant would close in half an hour. He left for the kitchen, leaving me alone in the dining hall. The other waiters had already put the chairs on the tables, the janitor already mopped the floors. I put the menu down and waited for my mother to walk through the restaurant doors.

The waiter came again in fifteen minutes. He left a plate of steaming cannelloni and a glass of wine on my table. I asked him to bring another plate for when my mother would arrive. He asked if she would like anything to drink. I told him no.

In another fifteen minutes the waiter came again. This time he brought cannelloni, tiramisu, and three takeout boxes with him. I drank my wine as he spooned the food into the boxes, slightly irritated at his presumption that I wouldn’t finish my food and my mother wasn’t coming, but too tired to protest. I asked for the bill.

In five minutes the waiter brought the bill out. It was a blank piece of paper. He told me that the restaurant couldn’t calculate bills after closing time. I thanked him and left the contents of my wallet as tip.

When I got into my car, I realized my keys were missing. I dug around my purse to see if anything else was taken and found nothing out of place. I was about to call a cab when the waiter knocked on the window of my car. He held my keys in his left hand and a bag with the takeout boxes in his right.

I rolled down the window. “Yes officer,” I said into the phone. “I believe I’ve found the thief. He’s standing outside my car window.”

The waiter grinned and thrust the bag into the window. I fumbled to grasp it, dropping my phone in the process. “I guess you’ll have to call back later.” He dangled the keys in front of my eyes, shaking them every once in a while so that the little panda key chain with a bell jingled. He jerked them away the moment I reached for them and beckoned again when I retreated.

“Give my keys back. Stop being such a child.”

“You know that’s impossible. Now let me drive.” He opened the door. I sat as firmly as I could in the driver’s seat. When the waiter took a step forward, I placed my heads on the steering wheel and leaned my forehead against the horn. “You don’t want to do that. I know you’re tired.”

I glared at him out of the corner of my eye and defiantly pressed my temple against the horn.

Five seconds and a headache later, he carried me to the passenger’s seat. I must have been extremely tired, as I did not hear him laughing at my stupidity. I groaned.

“Idiot,” he murmured.

As we drove down the streets, I noticed that the waiter had changed into a white suit. I held the bag of takeout food close to my abdomen. The food was still warm. I thought, ‘Good. Mom won’t have to cook or heat up leftovers.’

We arrived in front of my house. Again, he helped me out of the car. “Once my dad sees you, he’ll kill you,” I warned him.

“What? Why?”

I pushed myself off of him and made my way to the gate before remembering that the waiter still had my keys. I turned around to see him dangle them in front of me again. Snatch; pull; recoil; thrust; sigh. “Look, I’m tired, grumpy, and downright irritated. Just give me the keys.”

He ignored me and unlocked the gate. I walked to the door as he locked the gate behind me. He seized my hand as I prepared to ring the doorbell. He unlocked the door and let me in. When both of my feet were inside the house, he finally relinquished my keys. “Thank you so much. Who knows what I would have done if my waiter hadn’t stolen my keys.”

“You’re making me blush.”

I collapsed on the couch and closed my eyes. He lifted me into his arms again. “Aren’t you going to change, or at least sleep in your room?”

“Can’t. Mom’s going to come soon, and I don’t want to look like a slob.”

He carried me to my room. I don’t know how he opened the door with his hands busy, but somehow, he dropped me on my bed. “Are you going to change or do I have to help you?” I grimaced. “Nothing I haven’t already seen,” he added.

“Thanks for reminding me.” I sat up. It was late at night now, well past midnight. ‘Mom likes to work late,’ I thought. I felt his stare. “You look like you have somewhere to go. Get out of my room already.”

He kept staring. I stood up and locked myself in my closet. Earlier today I had carefully picked out clothes I thought Mom would like. She hated Dad’s fashion sense, so I stayed away from clothes he had given me. She preferred buttons to zippers so I chose a coat with big, round buttons and a dress with an almost unnoticeable zipper in the back. She was against animal products, so I wore cotton shoes.

“I thought you were a cat person.” I don’t know how he unlocked the closet door, or how he managed to flip my skirt and sneak a look at my puppy panties without me noticing.

I cleaned my closet that morning. I normally kept it orderly, but that morning my closet was immaculate. I could have eaten three meals on my closet floor and then slept on it. Thirty seconds after his comment about cats, and I couldn’t distinguish the spring semi-casual section from the school formal dance section anymore.

He was in the middle of a smart-aleck comment about tornadoes and fashion when my eyes felt wet. I put my hand up to catch the drops. “Oh hell,” I whispered. “My makeup…” He opened the closet door and lifted me onto my bed. “What am I, your rag doll?” He didn’t respond.

Instead, he used one of my old t-shirts to wipe my makeup off. “Give me that,” I demanded. I grabbed the cloth from his hands and rubbed off my makeup. My face felt slightly sore after I was done. I opened my eyes and half hoped, half expected him to be gone. “I’ll just have to redo it.”

“That’s enough. You said so yourself, you’re tired. Go to sleep.” He tried to pull the covers over me, but I slapped at his hands.

“Why? So you won’t feel my eyes watching you when you leave? Coward.”

“Go to sleep,” he repeated. And he sat on my bed and waited.

I closed my eyes and feigned sleep; he wouldn’t fall for it. I turned over to face the window. The moon was shining about the tree house Dad built.

“Mom forgot to change her address to her subscription to a fashion magazine when she left. Look at this dress. It cost more than the rest of my closet combined. But I remember, from the old issues that Dad keeps around the house, this dress was the one she kept circling with red marker. So I saved up for it and ordered it last year. It’s pretty, isn’t it? But it was a size too small, so I had to diet to fit it. The year Mom left, she took everything of hers with her. But we kept getting her magazines. When we got the notice that our subscription was expiring, I filled out the form to renew the subscription.

“Then last week, I got another issue of the magazine. But I also got something else in the mail that was addressed to Mom: an invitation to her high school reunion. I thought she would come for her high school reunion, and I’d wear this dress to show to her that I like the same magazine that she did. The reunion invitation had her information on it. It had her old address and phone number, but it had her email. So I sent her an email telling her that she could stay with Dad and me for her reunion.

“And she wrote me back! She told me to meet her at that restaurant, and not to bring money because she would treat me. She told me she would be late and to order before her. I knew it wasn’t Mom, because Mom hated restaurants. She thought they were pretentious and overpriced. She loved to cook. But I didn’t want to admit that, so I went to the restaurant. And I met the most annoying waiter in the world."

I suddenly found breathing difficult. I choked. He cradled me against his chest. “Let’s get you changed.”

I changed into sleeping clothes while his back was to the closet. “You can leave, you know. I’m sure you have many important laws to break.”

“I’m hurt. I only break the pointless ones. I’d like to think I fix the important ones.”

I rolled my eyes and stepped out of the closet. He was sitting on my bed. His suit was folded neatly and left on top of a chair. He wore only his boxers. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Who? Me?”

I sat next to him. He pulled the covers over us.

“You won’t be here when I wake up, will you?”

He kissed the top of my head. “Go to sleep.”

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