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"I never knew you were such a proficient cook, Akutagawa-kun!" You marvelled, peeking over his shoulder and at the pot of curry rice he'd managed to cook to perfection.
"I'm not. It's just my sister's favorite dish, so I cook it for her often." He answered, trying to sound as humble as possible. You'd been watching him cook since he walked into the suite's kitchen, you finding whatever activity he could be up to far more interesting than the briefing you were reading.
This mission was originally supposed to be for Chuuya, but seeing as Chuuya was otherwise busy, he handed it down to his reluctantly willing subordinate. And in his infinite singular moment of wisdom when he remembered that his subordinate was smitten with you, he sent you, a consultant to the Port Mafia, an invite to the mission.
You didn't like to be tied down, and you didn't like being labeled, so when Mori had taken a liking to you and tried to recruit you, the two of you made a deal. You were to be a consultant to the Port Mafia, going on assignments that you chose and being paid per successful mission.
You couldn't quite remember how you'd met the frosty, raven-haired man, or how you'd decided that you liked him, but before you knew it, you were choosing assignments that you knew he'd be on. You were asking for unlimited access to the Port Mafia's buildings, so you could roam the same halls that he would. And you'd managed to get the inside scoop on Akutagawa's whereabouts and interests and fears and things of the like when you made fast friends with Higuchi and Gin. And with a tip from Chuuya, in a note attached to the briefing he had sent you, that Akutagawa even liked you.
You had settled on the counter next to the stove, crossing your legs and bracing yourself against your hands which were behind you, with your eyes left to roam over Akutagawa's countenance the entire time.
"I wish I wasn't such a terrible cook. Maybe then I'd finally be able to start that self-care thing everyone keeps raving about." You joked, earning a wry laugh from your temporary partner. You admired the way his sturdy brow melted into a ski slope of a nose, and his overcast eyes that were focused on not burning the rice. This was when you noticed that he'd managed to cook quite a bit of the dish, and you wondered if he had made some with you in mind.
"Well, enjoy your meal." You hopped down from the counter and began to saunter back over to the lounge chair you had traded in for a warmer place next to him. "I wonder what kind of takeout places they've got around here." You mused, keeping his expression in your peripheral vision to see how he was reacting. He didn't even avert his gaze from the pot, and you felt your heart drop to your empty stomach.
You plopped down onto the lounge chair and gathered your laptop, the other thing you had abandoned in exchange for his company, and exited the briefing email Chuuya had sent you. You brought up a map of the city and searched for takeout, halfheartedly scrolling through the options the city had to offer. But none sparked your interest as much as Akutagawa's cooking.
You moved your fingers away from the keyboard just in time to not be crushed by the screen being pressed shut; you glared at the stone-faced man standing above you who had quite rudely shut your laptop.
"I made enough for the both of us, idiot. Possibly left overs for tomorrow too. If the food isn't as good as I expect and if we are here for that long." He prompted you to stand up with an outstretched hand, helped you out of the chair, and let you serve yourself what he had made. The two of you sat at the kitchen bar in silence, only the metallic sounds of spoons scraping against bowls and ice clinking against the inside of your water glass. He had opted for tea.
Akutagawa's stomach felt as tight as his fists were as he watched you out of his peripheral, waiting for any signs that you enjoyed his dish, since he couldn't just directly ask you; the feeling of being nervous was quite eerie to him, since it was a very new feeling. The Mafia's Dog was never nervous, he was the pillar of grit in the Port Mafia--he never questioned a mission, he never backed down from a fight, and, most of all, he never felt remorse once he walked away with his pale hands tainted red. And then he met you, and now he was nervous.
And then you got up abruptly, the screeching of the metal chair against the seemingly metal floor bringing him out of his own head with a jolt. His eyes followed you as you carried your bowl over to the stove and reached for the lid to the stove.
"What are you doing?" He asked, successfully hiding the quiver in his voice with a cough.
"Getting more, what does it look like?" You retorted, your back still to him. "I haven't had food this good since..." you thought for a moment, looking up to the ceiling for emphasis, "never actually."
Then, Akutagawa got an idea. A fever-inducing idea. An idea that made him even more nervous.
He was so nervous that his hands were shaking, resulting in him having to clench and unclench his fists to give him some sort of stability. He was so nervous that he couldn't keep still, couldn't calm the skipping of his heartbeat, and couldn't will himself to speak as elegantly as he wanted to. He'd never been so nervous, which was now not a new feeling for Akutagawa; but he was still the same man who'd never back down from anything.
"I could teach how you to make it if you like. At my apartment. Sometime." He said slowly, his eyes boring into your back. He noticed you had stopped scooping the rice into your bowl. You turned, a sly grin on your lips.
"Are you asking me out on a date, Ryuunosuke?" The way his name rolled off your tongue caused a chill to run down his spine and for the tips of his ears to heat up.
"It's not a date. I'll just be showing you how to cook a dish. And Gin will be there." His speech was really less than eloquent, and it made him want to flick himself in the forehead.
"I'm free whenever." You said flippantly, turning back to the stove for your seconds.
"You can come over when we're both off."
"What about Gin?"
"Is it okay if she's not there?" Akutagawa really hoped she wouldn't be, contrary to his previous statement that she would be so it wouldn't be a date. But if she wasn't, was it a date?
"It's fine with me. Is it fine with you?" Your inquiry was met with silence, which, in Akutagawa sepak, meant yes. "Wednesday is good for me." More silence. "Then it's a date." You confirmed.
"It's not." He insisted.
"I meant that we had set a date, Ryuunosuke." You quipped. He sighed; you were insufferably stubborn. And that was one of the things he liked about you.
"Fine. So it's a date." He relented.
"I knew you were asking me out, Ryuu."