Okay, this is the first true one-shot I think I have ever written before. The others all came as sort of a first sample chapter to my stories, but this one is complete as is...goody. And, personally, I rather like it...sure, it has absolutely no real point and is kinda fluffy, but still, I felt the need to type this up. Read and review if you like, and I will appreciate it as always, but really, this one was just for me. :)

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A Talented Weaver

The little shop on the corner was filled with easy, delightful humming, the sound of a content soul, and Conan smiled. He pushed the door open, hearing the tinkling of little bells as he entered and the surprised exclaimation of the hummer from the back room. He laughed lightly and leaned his form against the door frame, smiling broadly, as he heard a loud, hurried clatter, and the shop keeper emerged with a frantic look on his face. It disappeared as soon he spotted him, and all the the worry in his eyes was released in relieved sigh. Conan took a great pride in knowing that he could ease the man's worries.

"Mr. Reynolds, good afternoon!" he said brightly, his fingers combing through his hair and quickly clipping it back while he smiled at him. Conan smiled back, and walked fully into the shop.

"Hello, Kumi. How are you?" he asked softly, still smiling broadly, looking at him kindly as he always did. It seemed like it had been years since he had last seen the shop keeper, but he knew it had in fact only been last week. Shit...he really was oppsessed, wasn't he?

The shop keeper was a young man who went by the name of Kumi Anwar-Ito, and Conan had known him (in a consumer-businessman sense) for an entire month. Kumi was in his mid-twenties, and he was an oddity, half-japanese and half-black. He wasn't really attractive in the physical sense; no, his eyes were too long and thin for his dark skin, and he was thin as a pencil, nothing but bones. However, Conan had never been a shallow man, and it hadn't taken long before he picked out the beauty in the mulit-racial shop owner. He had beautiful hands, long and artistic, and he had a golden heart...never once in the entire month had he commented on Conan's preference to call him by his first name (as he had done almost immediately) instead of the more professional 'Mr. Anwar-Ito.' He had never questioned why Conan had become a regular in his shop, which should have been questioned.

The shop in question was known as the 'Magic Carpet Shop,' a place that specialized in rugs and tapestries of all kinds, as well as embroidery. Each piece was a work of art, an artist's production that had been filled with a person's heart and soul, and it was what had first caused him to come to the shop. His sister, a rather sweet, beautiful woman, had seen one of the shop's works in the home of a friend, and had immedietely wanted one for her birthday. Conan had obliged since his pockets were deep and he was bored, not really caring...now he cared. Throughout the month, he had bought all manner of gifts for his family, simply as an excuse to see the young man with his ready laugh and soft smiles, both odd and unique but cherished all the same. Conan didn't know what he thought of him...it was difficult to say whether or not he was even interested in men, becuase Conan never saw him interact with anyone other than customers (all of which he tried to avoid. He was terrified somebody would see and comment on the obvious infatuation he had with Kumi.)

Kumi smiled at him, and Conan got the feeling he wanted to hug him for showing up and purchasing his weavings nearly every other day. Conan knew the business was struggling... it was easy enough to tell from the size of the shop, and the often harried look Kumi had on his face before he masked it, but the quality and time spent on his weaving never faltered, and neither did he ever ask for help. He was prideful to a fault, but in Conan's eyes it was not a bad thing...it was simply a part of Kumi.

"What can I do for you today, Mr. Reynolds? As I'm sure you are well aware, I worship my regulars, and you are without a doubt the most dependable regular I have. How may I help you?"

Conan smiled his broad, well-known smile, a smile that had won him any number of recognitions from the public he catered to (or at least appeared to). There was any number of ways to answer that question, but only one that was appropriate for the situation.

"A tapestry, Kumi. This one, however, is purely for me."

Kumi laughed, and shook his head in amusement. "Well, it's about time. You have bought all manner of things for your family...it's about time you had something for yourself." He looked him in the eyes, his a light amber brown, and Conan felt his heart rate speed up. A double-meaning? Maybe, but he doubted it...it was most likely just his optimistic mind acting up again.

"Perhpas it is. Show me what you have in your inventory, Kumi."

Kumi grinned, and waggled his eyebrows at him, the image so funny that Conan had to laugh.

"You know I don't show my customers my storage room...but for my most valued customer, I think I'll make an exception."

He turned, and headed towards the back of the shop, his hips swaying just slightly, a subtle curve, a delightful view that Conan couldn't help but watch through the corners of his eyes, just as he couldn't prevent noticing the fashionable, somewhat feminine clipped up hairstyle that was common among his younger female friends. His sharply cut black hair was braided and clipped, every hair in place...such care to detail was one thing that Conan supposed made Kumi a fabulous weaver, and he was. Conan wasn't so deceptive that he would just buy a weaver's creations to have excuses to see them. They at least had to have some measure of skill for the outrageous prices charged for any hand-woven products, and Kumi had that and more: only one more reason why he fascinated Conan.

The storage room was dimly lit, and tapestries and rugs hung from the walls, covered in special plastic to keep dust and dirt from touching the bright cloth and threads, the protection of their maker. It was a sign of true care: while rugs were meant to be exposed to air and used, this artist refused to release them a second sooner to the damaging elements, even at the cost of the expensive protective covering. Clearly, this layer was where the profits of Kumi's shop had gone to: the materials required to care for these things like the greatest treasures didn't come cheap.

Conan strolled easily behind Kumi, looking from side to side, observing each one carefully, noting patterns similar to Aztec designs, and forest or beach scenes that reminded him of his home as a child. He swore he could almost smell the sea...yes, Kumi was very talented.

He reached out his hand to touch the plastic covering as Kumi chattered on, telling the stories behind each tapestry if there was a story to tell. His hand was half extended when he paused, spotting a small corner of dark cloth protruding from a delicate wooden box, and he changed directions, touching the material. It was smooth and cool, and so finely woven that he couldn't help but be amazed. He knew Kumi was talented, but this sort of thing...only someone with a great amount of time and an even greater passion for what they were doing could create something so fine. He had to see it, all of it. He pulled lightly on the cloth, intent to see the design, when a thin hand stopped him, covering his own with warmth. Obiediently, he stopped pulling, and he was somewhat saddened when the smooth brown hand moved again, leaving a lingering warmth behind to taunt him. He sighed, and turned to Kumi, hiding his disappointment.

"What is that, Kumi?" he asked mildly, and Kumi laughed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you, Mr. Reynolds. That is my first sad attempt at making something new with my weaving, a thin blanket or sheet, I'm thinking. It is...a rather poor attempt." He smiled softly, almost apologetically. "When I finish, I plan to make it a gift to a friend. It it not for sale."

Conan shrugged, and turned back to his searching with another blinding smile, hiding his racing mind. A friend, or a lover? He sighed inwardly, touching another tapestry. He supposed it didn't matter much...Kumi was out of his reach anyway.

He finally chose his tapestry, an understated affair of a lonely house in a green forest that he liked due mostly to the fact that, for once, Kumi had woven his name on the bottom hem. Conan could have that much of him, at least...he wanted that much, since it was clear to anyone who bothered to look that Kumi was far, far out of his league.

"This one, if you don't mind, Kumi."

Kumi looked at the tapestry, by far the least glamorous of any they had looked at in the storage room as yet, but he simply shrugged, smiling slightly as he began to remove the large wall hanging.

"I'm amazed. I thought I'd never get rid of this one...it's too plain for most people."

Conan smiled.

"I like it." He wondered if Kumi thought he was plain.

He sighed inwardly as the little man struggled. He had never been the best looking of people, had been rather ordinary in the looks department, actually, with dark brown hair and borwn eyes exactly the same shade, the meaning of average. He wasn't very tall...he barely made it to six feet in his normal working shoes (which gave him an extra inch) and even for someone of a seditary career like his, it was pretty unimpressive. Of course, he had his redeeming, spectacular features, too...his broad friendly smile, he had been told, was killer, and he took pride in the fact that he never gave up on his figure in the nearly half a decade he had spent behind a desk. Of course, as he had constantly been reminding himself, it didn't matter what Kumi thought of him. As far as Conan could tell, he saw him only as a valued costumer, and the duty of being a salesman hardly extended to dating the people who bought his work. Yes, this obsession had to stop.

His brow furrowed as he watched Kumi attempt to move the large creation. It was much bigger in size than a regualr tapestry, and Kumi had a hard time manuevering the piece without bumping into things. Conan reached out a hand, prepared to lend assistance.

"You need some help, Kumi?"

"No, I'm-" A gasp of exertion. "-just fine."

But he wasn't fine: he had only made it a few steps before he smashed into the nearby shelf, causing the fragile wooden box to crash to the floor. Silence echoed for a moment and, without thinking, Conan moved forward and began picking up the shattered pieces of the box quickly, placing them back on the shelf they had fallen from.

It was apparently the worst thing he could have done, because Kumi let out a cry of alarm and dropped the tapestry, moving to shield the remains of the box with wide eyes. Conan pulled back, wounded. Apparently, Kumi didn't want him to touch anything that had to do with that box.

He made to stand up from his crouched position on the dark gray floors when something caught his eyes, and he grabbed for the black cloth some distance away.

"No, Conan, wait-"

But Kumi's almost panicked words were too late, because Conan had already picked up the soft woven material, the half-finished blanket seeming insignificant for being guarded so well. It was well made, like all of Kumi's things, and Conan wondered why he would try to hide such a thing...but then he saw the design. He knew that face well.

It was his.

"Kumi..." He didn't known what to say to the weaver. His face, without a doubt, was on this little piece of a blanket. It was unusually small for a blanket, even though it was just half of one. However, he'd bet that when it was finished, it would be just big enough to cover a large child...or Kumi. But why did Kumi want a blanket with his face on it?

He was pulled out of his thoughts when the blanket was tugged out of his hands by Kumi, his face and eyes averted. Conan got the feeling that he was blushing, even though such a thing could not be seen on skin like his. Without another word, the weaver moved away, placing the material gently on the shelf with the pieces of the box.

Conan's heart was pounding. Not being a particularily attractive man, he was amazed that Kumi would bother to turn his visage into a work of art. But it did give him hope...maybe, just maybe, Kumi was as interested in him as he was in the weaver. Conan cleared his throat softly, and moved to stand beside the small man. Kumi still refused to look at him.

"Kumi, I think we have to talk."

Kumi sighed. "What, Mr. Reynolds? I'm sorry I dropped your tapestry: I'll clean it right away, and check for damages. Of course, if you would rather select another piece-"

"That's not what I meant Kumi, and you know it. We have to talk about this," Conan said, tapping his fingers lightly on the black cloth. Kumi sighed again, and turned to look at him with shiny eyes. He looked like he was about to cry, and Conan didn't want him to cry.

"No, we don't have to talk, Mr. Reynolds. I was deciding on a design for my newest project, and your face popped into my mind. That's all." It would have been clear to even the most foolish of people that he was lying.

"Kumi, I don't think you're being very honest with either of us."

Kumi smiled a wobbly smile at him. "No, I guess not. I'm sorry, Mr. Reynolds, I didn't mean to offend you or disturb you with my work I just...I'm, er, rather fond of you, I suppose. I understand completely if you no longer feel fit to purchase my work, or come here at all, for that matter."

Conan closed his eyes in relief, and smiled broadly before opening them again. He was so glad that Kumi liked him. He was thrilled that the firm businessman to customer attitude was a mask. In fact, it lifted a great deal of worry from his shoulders.

"Don't be ridculous, Kumi, your's is the best work around. And I wasn't offended at all...May I take you out sometime? To dinner or something?" Amazing how nervous he was: this wasn't the first time he had asked somebody out on a date. But then, it was the first time he had been brave enough to ask Kumi.

Kumi blinked at him a few times, eyes wide. He seemed to be in shock. "Are you...are you serious? You'd like to take me out? But what about the woman you were with the first time you came here?"

Conan grinned at him, trying not to look to hopeful. Questions...that was a godd sign, wasn't it?

"That was my sister. She had seen your work before and admired it."

"Oh..." Kumi bit his lip in consideration, before beaming at him.

"Well, in that case, what took you so long?"

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Oh, joy. An actual one-shot...be proud of me right now. Actually, never mind, don't be...I only made this because I was stalling until my next chapter had to come out. Oh well. :)