Vineyard [Detective Conan fanfic, Vermouth x Gin]

Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Detective Conan belongs to Gosho Aoyama and associated parties. I do not make money nor own anything with the exception of my own original characters.

Author's note: The main storyline stays the same with added content. But it has been heavily rewritten and uploaded as of 28/06/2022, so please read it from the beginning. This story is officially set in an alternative universe where the Miyanos and Akais aren't related.

Chapter 4

"Daddy, can you tie this balloon for me?"

"Sure." Gin was finishing loading up the dishwasher when he heard his daughter. He turned around and froze; his mouth agape.

He had seen plenty of horrors in his life. But absolutely nothing had prepared him for the sight of his daughter holding a blown-up balloon in her hand. Such an innocent image, one would think, except that it wasn't a balloon.

She pulled out a colorful box from her dress's pocket; she couldn't read much, but the depiction of fruits was eye-catching. "These balloons taste like strawberries."

Like a lightning strike, he rushed to her side, grabbed the offensive objects, and promptly threw them in the trash.

"Hey!" She protested the loss of her new toy. "Why?"

"Not another word from you!" If he could have his eyes incinerated, he would.

"What did I do?" She had been behaving. She finished her dinner without a fuss, even eating all the broccoli. All she did was quietly play by herself. Why was she getting yelled at?

"Go to your room!" he bellowed, pointing at her bedroom; his words left her with no room to negotiate.

She was stomping up the stairs; halfway through, she turned around. "Mommy would never yell at me."

"Your mother isn't here!"

Vermouth had a private matter, leaving him with the girl for most of the day. He sighed heavily as Kate disappeared upstairs. She had an innate knack for getting on his nerves.

Oh, how he missed swearing, and smoking. He missed the last five minutes of his life before the image burnt into his cornea forever. Well, at least he could still drink. Downing a finger of whiskey, he resisted the urge to finish the entire bottle.

Desperately needing something to do, Gin walked back to the kitchen, unloading the dishwasher, and washing everything by hand instead. He was scrubbing the same pan for the third time when the sound of keys jiggling rescued the pitiful kitchenware. The door creaked open, letting in some whistling winds outside.

He ran the tap and rinsed the detergent off. Hearing footsteps, he began. "Do you know what your daughter did today? She had the nerve to—"

It was quiet. Too quiet.

"Hey." He left the dishes behind and made his way toward the slumped figure leaning against the wall.

Searing pain ripped through Vermouth's brain; fingers pinching the bridge of her nose in a futile effort to alleviate her suffering. "No, just a migraine."

He crossed his arms, scowling. "I told you not to go."

"I owed him a favor." She slowly took off her outerwear and put them on the racks; then, eased herself down on the couch. "You know how things work."

The living room light seared her pupils. It combined with exhaustion and the frightful weather exacerbated her condition.

Vermouth didn't know how long she had her head in her hands, when a loud thud of something making contact with the table in front of her snapped her back to reality. The light was no longer glaring. A glass of water and two small white pills appeared on the coffee table. Through the corner of her eye, she can still see water splashing around in its container, spilling a bit. She smiled at the busy figure in the kitchen.