Work Text:
It’s been weeks, maybe a month, who knows, since Philip has come back into his life.
Shotaro stops counting at some point, when his pencil breaks through the paper because he still can’t quite wrap his brain around what has happened. He doesn’t know how to make sense of it, and even after all his adventures, there’s something way too surreal about his circumstances that he can’t quite chase away the fear that this is just another dream.
That he’ll try to reach out for Philip one day, and he’ll be gone, again.
For good.
His feet carry him, almost in spite of himself, to the basement door. He remembers those days; before his life fell back into place, when he was too scared to open it and find the vacancy behind. Now though, there’s another kind of nervousness that runs up his spine, listening to the muted shuffling behind the door, where he hopes- knows that Philip is busying himself with that week’s fixation. Sure enough, there’s a small ‘bang’ and a coughing fit, and Shotaro is surprised that no smoke seeps from under the door, but he’s too happy at the commotion, the proof that Philip is right there, to be worried about anything else.
“So what is it today?” he says as the door swings open, tries to tug on his tie for effect before he can remember he’s not wearing one.
Philip stumbles over the few steps to reach him, wiping something pink from his cheek. “Shotaro! I think my temperature calculations were a bit off, but,” he wags a finger in front of Shotaro’s face, nearly pressed against his lips. “The taste is there!”
He doesn’t move, simply stares at Shotaro with that glint of excitement in his eyes, so Shotaro decides to indulge him, tongue poking through his lips to taste what Philip is offering. It’s sweet and almost creamy, something missing that probably has to do with the temperature calculation Philip mentioned. He remembers Philip sneaking a plastic bag out of their kitchen that morning as he was going over the books, wispy presence almost flying past him, and he didn’t think anything of it. Really, what goes down here doesn’t matter, as long as Philip stays right there, a smile blooming on his face.
“You do know we have a kitchen, right?” Shotaro says, looking over Philip’s shoulder and cocking an eyebrow at the makeshift stove on his desk. “No need to set fire to the entire building, one room will do.”
As jokingly patronizing as he hears himself being, there is nothing that makes Shotaro happier than knowing Philip is here, still full of life and curious for everything. It’s a singular feeling, getting back someone you thought you’d lost forever. Maybe that’s why Shotaro lets Philip take him by the hand and out of the basement, brushing his top down as he goes.
It’s a slow day at the agency, all the cats in the neighborhood are staying put, and there’s no more Dopants to fight-they stay alert, as they always have, for any memory that might somehow surface, but things have been peaceful and perhaps it’s better that they stay that way. But it’s never uneventful when Philip is there, stopping Shotaro from getting lost in his own thoughts.
“Baking? That’s the thing for today?” he asks, watching Philip’s back as he disappears into the kitchen.
The answer comes echoed by the tiled floor. “Yes! Did you know that there are many different types of icing that allow one to create intricate designs on simple cookies? It’s like an edible painting! But you have to, you have to get the consistency right. Especially with royal icing! Otherwise, well, the icing will not set, so it is most likely to look like watercolors, not that watercolor is not a valid and valuable form of art in itself, but I’d like to think I can achieve perfect consistency and designs, don’t you?”
It takes a moment, and Shotaro isn’t sure why, but he’s the one who has to catch his breath. As nagging as he pretended to find Philip’s habit before, now it’s something he knows he can’t live without, and the simple fact of having Philip here ranting as he looks around the kitchen and haphazardly places bowls and cups and plates on the counter is music to Shotaro’s ears.
“I’m sure you can.” is all he says, padding across the floor to reach the kitchen. He leans against the open doorframe, taking in Philip’s lithe silhouette as it moves against the light from the window. “No explosions this time though, right?”
“Well, there is always a probability,” Philip doesn’t look back at him, too busy measuring sugar, “but I’ll try my best.”
Shotaro turns on his heels, ready to make for his desk. “Good! Can’t wait to see what you come up with.”
He’s ready to sit back and relax, maybe type in some reports he’d left gathering dust in the past few months, too preoccupied with getting rid of the Sonozaki family, his mind too clouded after the fact, when Philip was gone. In hindsight, he probably should have gotten to it when Philip returned, fell in his arms once again, but the fact of the matter is, he wanted nothing to do with the period of their lives that had almost separated them for good.
Now, though, safe in the knowledge that Philip is there, maybe he can finally file everything away.
Just as he’s about to sit down, he feels a presence creeping up behind him.
“Sho~ta~ro~” Philip sings in his ear, fingers ghosting over his sides. “Why don’t you take a break from that and help out?”
“You have too much faith in me,” Shotaro scoffs, fiddles with the brim of his hat where it’s sitting on the corner of the desk.
Philip props his chin on Shotaro’s shoulder, arms linking across his stomach. “You’ve never given me a reason to doubt that faith, though.”
Shotaro thinks he could melt, right then and there. Maybe Philip gives him too much credit, or maybe, as always, he sees the things in him that Shotaro can’t see in himself. The least he can do for Philip is try.
He doesn’t have time to retort, anyway, before Philip reaches down into a drawer and comes up to put an apron around his neck. It’s the ugliest shade of beige Shotaro has ever seen, washed out from being kept away from sunlight for so long, but he lets Philip tie it around his waist anyway. He figures this will certainly be the most eventful of his two options, and he could go for some adventure right about now.
Even if it’s within the confines of their kitchen, anything he does with Philip is an adventure in its own.
“Let’s just follow this,” Philip says, balancing a book precariously on the counter. “Flour and butter!”
It takes Shotaro a moment to realize the words are directed at him. “Uh oh, okay.” he reaches inside the pantry, surprised that they even have anything on hand to begin with. Neither of them are great cooks, or at least not good or interested enough, usually, to need to have stock on hand. “Has anyone been here?”
“Ryu said,” Philip announces, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear “that he didn’t want us to starve. Showed up while you were out the other day.”
Uh. It would be like Ryu to do this sort of thing, barely attempting to disguise the fact that he cares anymore. Shotaro guesses they’ve both come a long way, thanks to the people in their lives.
“If I were to guess, I’d say Akiko sent him,” Philip chimes “but it was nice either way!”
Just a few months ago, Shotaro never thought he’d find himself missing Akiko’s constant presence around the agency, but things have changed more than any of them had expected them to. “Well, I guess we’re in luck then.”
When you’re caught up in the life they live, having friends who have actually mastered the concept of adulthood can be an asset, though Shotaro had never imagined Akiko and Ryu to be the ones to actually achieve that. Far from him to be judgemental, and he can’t deny that the two have definitely found each other, but it makes him realize exactly how far they’ve come.
Just the thought of having enough time and so little worries that he’d be able to stand here next to Philip as he measures flour and butter and wiggles next to Shotaro to demand more working space is a miracle in itself.
Watching Philip work the dough, delicate hands that were never meant for fighting but took it upon themselves anyway, is mesmerizing. Of course watching him get lost in his many passions is how Shotaro fell, little by little, in the deepest love he’s ever known. Many things have changed since that day in the flames, but this connection is the one thing that stayed the same, growing stronger by the day.
“Is there a science to this too?” he teases, poking at the dough. “Or are we winging it.”
Philip rounds out the mass in his hands, examines it for a moment. “It looks like the book says it should. Of course we won’t truly know until we roll it out, and then bake it, but-”
“Let’s go then!” Shotaro barely hears himself speak, only takes the dough from Philip’s hands and readies to throw it on a clean part of the counter. His movement is suddenly stopped when Philip throws himself at him, eyes wild.
“No! We need flour. Or you’ll be the one scrubbing for days.”
“You say that as if I don’t do it already.” Shotaro mumbles under his breath, but he still complies, lets Philip roll out some clear plastic out and toss some flour onto it. It spills out of his hand and ricochets off the surface, wafting a heavy cloud in the air and up Shotaro’s nostrils.
“Oh go- oh my god-oh no.” and then Shotaro sneezes, with barely enough time to cover his nose. “Oh m-aahhhh..” and then he sneezes again, puffs of flour flying up to Philip’s delight.
“At least I can’t say you didn’t get in there!” he guffaws, holding his sides.
“Well actually, it got in there, don’t know about me.” Shotaro wants to play mad, but he can see Philip’s smile behind the slowly dissipating cloud of flour, and he can’t find it in himself at all. “Good grief.”
He lets Philip take the lead then, a few minutes to shake the flour out of his hair, but the fondness stays. Then Philip says, “Your turn now.”, hands him the rolling pin he didn’t even know they had. It takes him a few tries but he gets the hang of it, rolls his shoulders with the movement and tries not to overthink it. With Philip at his side, there’s no way this can go wrong.
It’s in moments like this that Shotaro realizes how little time he’d been giving to these things before. He spent so much of his life running after bag guys and pipe dreams, chasing a shadow, that he never really gave himself the time, too busy throwing himself headfirst into his cases. He’d never deny that they’re his first love, the thrill of it all still sending shivers through his body even as he simply thinks about it, the pride he takes in bringing justice and peace to his city ingrained on his soul like an unbreakable badge of honor.
But here and now, with Philip, he realizes the value of those little things, the ones he didn’t give a second thought to before, things he might have considered too trivial and that now make all the sense in the world. It’s relaxing, just the two of them holed up in this tiny kitchen, kneading and rolling dough, the tension somehow leaving his shoulders even as Philip wields a knife dangerously close to his face as he brainstorms all the shapes they could cut their cookies into. There’s no more urgency, no more fear that this could be ripped away from them at any moment. All that matters is the clinking of bowls together as Philip sets to gathering ingredients for the icing, the way he mutters something under his breath about being prepared, the mute sound of the rolling pin across the dough, and the rhythm of their breathing, never leaving the room silent.
Shotaro knows he couldn’t stand it.
Philip grabs the rolling pin from him to stop him from grinding the dough into nothingness. “Faces? Or maybe, memories. Oh, that would be fun, actually.”
“Uh?” it doesn’t register immediately with Shotaro, but he realizes as Philip starts cutting the dough into a haphazard shape with some bumps that could be ears, or noses, depending on what species you think of.
In the end, he lets Philip take the lead, makes sure he doesn’t end up losing a finger in the mix. A row of faceless heads are neatly arranged on a tray that hasn’t been used in months, Philip laughing brightly at the face Shotaro makes after he finishes wiping it clean and takes a look at the tissue he used. “We definitely have to make better use of all this.” he says, turning his nose up at the sight of the gathered up dust and grease.
“But it’s so much easier the other way.” Shotaro whines, just because he wants to see Philip’s smile for a little longer.
It takes a bit more commotion for the dough to go in, Philip rambling off about temperatures and humidity, and though the words barely make sense to Shotaro he still listens as he wipes some remaining flour from his cheek and picks up some of the leftover dough on his finger.
“Shotaro, no! There’s a high risk of contamination with the raw ingredients!”
Shotaro smirks, wags his finger at Philip. “I’m going to do it.”
“Don’t.” Philip says, and then he plants his hands firmly on his hips. “Shotaro…”
The way his cheeks puff up as he speaks is way too adorable for Shotaro to not want to see more of it. He sticks his finger in his mouth as quickly as he can before Philip pounces, tackling him against the counter. “Oww!” he exclaims when his back hits the edge, but then Philip is pressed against him, the heat of his body so real and reassuring that it takes away any pain.
“Well, it’s as we always, say.” Philip inches his face closer, breathes against Shotaro’s nose. “If we go down, we go down together, partner.” and then he leans in, presses a chaste kiss to Shotaro’s lips.
He lingers there for a moment, fingers twisting in the front of Shotaro’s apron, before he breaks away to speak. “Sweet.” is all he says, tongue darting to lick his own lips as he winks at Shotaro. “Well, let fate take us there then!’
Shotaro feels so warm and yet frozen in time. “As long as we’re together.”
He lets it slip without realizing, his tongue coming untied under Philip’s touch. He never intended for his worries to show, he wanted to keep doing as he’s always done, but always also means that no one gets him and can unravel him the way Philip does.
“I am not going anywhere, you know.” Philip mumbles as he leans against the counter. “Not now, not ever. Not anymore.”
Caught so soon, eh? Shotaro isn’t exactly surprised. As much as he’d like, he’s never been one to tuck his emotions away, letting them run wild instead, a stream of fire. After everything though, he at least hoped he could be a rock for Philip. “I know.”
“We’re never losing each other again, Shotaro.” Philip says, firmly, and the sound of his own name in the other’s mouth is like an anchor to Shotaro. Instinctively, he brings his hand up to his heart, and Philip’s own joins it soon after. “It’s over. The fear, the hurt, the fighting… Now, all that’s left is this. Us.”
Shotaro knows in the deepest confines of his heart that Philip is right. He takes Philip’s hand in his, kisses along his knuckles, light as air. “I’m never letting you go. You know that, right?”
“You better not.” Philip smiles, touching his forehead to Shotaro’s. “Or I’m sending Fang after you.”
“Oh, dear.” Shotaro whistles, not reassured by the way Philip lifts his eyebrows at him. “Well, you know me. I always see things through.”
And then Philip throws his arms around Shotaro’s shoulders, inhales deeply. The kitchen is starting to smell like sugar and butter, faint yet pleasant scent rising up into the air. There’s no smoke in sight, to Shotaro’s relief, so he cinches his arms around Philip’s waist, holds him close for as long as he can. It’s only when the timer on the oven goes off that he lets Philip disentangle himself.
To Shotaro’s surprise, the cookies do not come out horribly mangled and unrecognizable. They’re golden like Philip says they’re supposed to be, slightly brown around the edges, but edible nonetheless. He knows that because he can’t help himself from picking one up while it’s still warm on the tray, almost burning his fingers and then his tongue to the sound of Philip’s jokingly exaggerated protests. They’re worth having to stand around with his mouth open for ten seconds, letting cool air blow on his tongue so he can chew on the crispy, sugary treat. It’s just right in the middle, a surprising success for a first attempt.
“Was it worth it?” Philip teases, turning the water on so Shotaro can stick his tongue under the faucet.
Then again, success shouldn’t surprise him anymore when it’s him and Philip. They’ve weathered worse storms than this, and come out on top each time. Right now, he thinks Philip shares this simple happiness just the same.
He can be convinced to let the cookies cool, despite how good they smell, when Philip sticks a carton of eggs in his hands. Separating the whites from the yolks is more tedious than the recipe makes it seem, and Shotaro has a few brushes with danger as he attempts to not drop any shell into the bowl. From the corner of his eye, he can see Philip holding out a bag of icing sugar, powdery fumes escaping as he pops it open.
Philip manages to avoid sneezing, even as he inhales some of the sweet smell for himself, and he sieves the sugar into Shotaro’s carefully collected egg whites, tongue pinched between his lips like he’s already got it down to a science. And he probably does, as far as Shotaro is concerned. There’s very little Philip hasn’t mastered, after all. When he gets in the zone like this, there’s no getting in there with him, so Shotaro takes a breather, tucks his hands behind his back to stop himself from eating more of the cookies.
Instead he just observes the way Philip’s brow is furrowed in concentration, how his hair falls just right around his face, but never obstructs his view, how his hands are delicate despite the fighting, still capable of handling such minute tasks. He’s a sight to behold, a presence that soothes Shotaro’s heart. Of course he’s never letting go.
“I bought these,” Philip says, reaching for tiny bottles of various colors. “For us.”
There’s a purple one, and a green one, the colors immediately jumping out to Shotaro despite how dark they appear in their containers, because it’s their colors, the ones they fought under and that united them in the beginning. They’ll always be theirs, in the end.
Decorating, as Shotaro would have it, is harder than intended. He nearly redecorates an entire pan of wall when his piping bag leaks, and the purple stains his fingers but he manages to get it back under control, pipes a hazardous design onto a cookie. It doesn’t look anything like what he’d envisioned, some icing spilling down the sides, more of a child’s drawing than an adult’s confection, but he doesn’t feel embarrassed, somehow. He can’t expect to be instantly good at everything after all, and the fond, pleased expression on Philip’s face as he sneaks him glances while he ices his own cookies is worth every little mistake.
“You’re doing good, Shotaro!”
Shotaro frowns, licks some icing off his fingers just to hear Philip squeak. “I won’t get better if you keep lying, you know.”
“Ah, but,” Philip coos, plastering himself against Shotaro’s side, “I want to encourage you.” he punctuates said encouragement with a wet, sloppy kiss to Shotaro’s cheek, and yelps when Shotaro pokes his nose with an icing-covered finger. “Hey!”
Philip jumps back to his end of the counter, toying with the bowl of red icing they’d made as an experiment. Something moves across his face for a moment, deep thought apparent in the way he tilts his head to the side. “Should we visit our dear friends?” he asks, grabbing the bowl with both hands. “To thank them, once again.”
They’ll never be done thanking Akiko and Ryu, at this rate, but it’s a small price to pay for everything these two have endured with them. Because words are never going to be enough, maybe something sweeter can do.
They end up drenched in color and giggling to themselves as they observe their creations, icing bleeding into itself and making a mess, not exactly the picture of perfection Shotaro is sure Philip had envisioned. Some is running down the sides of the cookies, sticking to the tray as Philip tries to wipe it down and he grumbles when the paper towel get stuck and rips, “oh no!”
As long as it’s not going back in the oven, Shotaro couldn’t care less about the mess. He admires his own work and Philip’s, always amazed but never surprised at how quickly Philip takes to things. He brings color to even the dullest days.
“Thank you.”
Philip turns to face him, bright eyes going wide. “Uh?”
“Thank you.” Shotaro repeats himself, looking directly at Philip this time. “Somehow, you always seem to know what I need.”
“Well,” Philip moves to tuck Shotaro’s tie back behind the apron, tucks a hand under his chin and giggles at the state of him. “I felt like you needed a reminder, that this is real.” he says, hands squeezing Shotaro’s shoulder as firmly as he possibly can. “Because I love you, and I need you to know that.
Of course.
“I love you too. So much.” Maybe too much, sometimes, but that’s something he can ponder another day. It doesn’t matter now, not when Philip is sidling up to him, taking up his rightful place in Shotaro’s atmosphere.
It’s nice, just the two of them like this. Even if the phone could ring at any moment to send them one another wild chase, even if Akiko could come busting down the door and drag them to another adventure at a moment’s notice, that’s not a problem. They’ll always be up for it, Shotaro knows this much, because that’s where they were forged, how their bond came to be.
There isn’t anyone else he’d rather run with than Philip, but there’s also no one else he’d rather be here with. The silence was deafening, during that time, when Philip wasn’t there to fill it up with his research and his passion.
Now, it’s comfortable, barely broken by the way Philip groans and giggles as he notices Shotaro trying to reach for a not-yet ready cookie behind his back. He stands back on his heels, his body a barrier between Shotaro and the tray, tells him to wait a little more.
Shotaro will wait as long as he has to, if Philip asks.
“Should we invite them,” he asks, hands absentmindedly toying with the sleeve of Philip’s sweater. “Or eat everything ourselves.”
Philip makes a face at him like he can’t believe Shotaro’s nerve. “We made these specifically for them!” he points at the Accel-colored cookie, and the one that Shotaro swears is supposed to resemble a slipper. “Even the cucumber.”
“You…” Shotaro laughs, trying to feign outrage as he wraps his arms around Philip, getting tighter as Philip tries to wriggle out of his grip. “How dare you! I thought this was all about artistic expression!” the more he tries to speak, the more he falls into fits of laughter as Philip sticks his tongue out in defiance.
“Art is up to interpretation-” Philip says, sticking two fingers between Shotaro’s ribs to free himself. “-let’s see what Akiko says.”
Philip is barely out of Shotaro’s arms when he wraps his own around Shotaro’s waist, brushes their noses together. “We should go. Get you out of the agency. Who knows, maybe we’ll run into a robbery victim, or-” he points to the ceiling, “the jackpot, a cat stuck in a tree!”
“Fine.” is all Shotaro says, because he can never deny Philip in any way and he knows that. All it takes is a smile and the way Philip’s body is so warm against his, so present and so real.
Even if he craves a thrill, sometimes, this is all he needs.