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Watching Akechi sleep was… kind of weird.
Weird as in, it's probably not something he was ever supposed to witness. Weird as in, the fascinating way lions and tigers trust certain humans enough to bare their teeth and then shut their eyes around them anyway. Weird as in, the stars must have aligned for this to become an opportunity at all.
You know. That kind of weird.
Maybe Akira shouldn't be making this such a big deal. But it was, it is, when there's a lump of detective prince lying in his bed in his day clothes. He’s taken off his shoes at least, hands curled loosely around the gloves he'd taken off for once, too.
Akechi probably hates this whole scenario, Akira can tell, even if he isn't awake enough to express it.
So he takes seven deep breaths, one for each member of the Phantom Thieves (who'd definitely tell him to calm down), before heading back down into the café, making sure to sidestep the creaky floorboard on the way.
It takes about an hour for any sight of Akechi to re-emerge and when he does, the sun is setting, lighting up the few stuck up hairs he must've missed when he smoothed it down initially, casting a golden glow on his scrunched up face.
Akira briefly wonders if he'd taste like hot chocolate in that moment.
“Kurusu,” Akechi says, voice uneven and still laced with sleep. “My apologies for… the turn this afternoon took.”
“Akira,” he reminds him, continuing smoothly despite the way Akechi’s brows go up. “You must've been really tired to pass out in my bed.”
Akechi’s face scrunches up some more. “I do not ‘pass out’.” His tone is more than a little offended. “I simply… dozed off, is all.”
Akira hums. He definitely passed out. “Rough night?”
“Rough life,” Akechi mumbles and that, that surprises Akira. It must show on his face, because the corner of Akechi’s mouth quirks up in a way he isn't yet used to seeing. “I’m just joking, Kurusu.”
“Akira,” Akira says again. He tries not to focus too much on the smudged concealer under Akechi’s eyes; they both know it was more than a joke.
“Right, of course.” He clears his throat once. “Akira.”
It shouldn't make him feel as giddy as it does, to be referred to by his own name. Akechi had a way of changing things for him, a constant ticklish feeling that fluttered somewhere between his ribs and his lungs every time they spoke.
“Akechi,” Akira responds in acknowledgement. It makes Akechi frown.
“That isn't right, actually.” He takes his usual seat at the counter. Instantly, Akira moves to pour him a cup of coffee, a blend he worked on and restarted and worked on and restarted while Akechi slept. Just vague crush things. “I’m not sure I can let you do that.”
Akira briefly pauses in placing Akechi’s coffee cup before him, suspended in midair. “Uh.”
“No, not—” He makes a strangled noise and Akira thinks it’s laughter. It makes him perk up even if he doesn’t know what Akechi is laughing at. “I mean.” Akechi clears his throat again. “Goro. You can... call me that. Goro.”
It’s like repeating it twice reminds him that was his name. “Goro,” Akira says, letting it hang in the air for a third time. It makes his insides feel like he’d eaten too many pop rocks. “Okay. Cool,” he says, despite feeling anything but.
“Cool,” Akechi—no, Goro, echoes. He covers his mouth with a still ungloved hand, but the way his eyes shine tell him more than what he’s hiding could. “Well. Thank you for the coffee,” and then his breath seemingly catches in his throat before he says, “Akira.”
Akira is probably imagining the way his voice just dropped an octave. It probably has more to do with still having recently woken up, and not anything to do with the way he feels like he just won something.
He decides this is Goro’s way of making it up to him, all those games he’s beat him at in chess: letting Akira in just a little closer. They're stuck in each other’s orbits, coming back to one another again and again.
He’s pulled out of his thoughts with the sound of Goro’s coffee cup coming down to rest on the saucer. “I think I should be going soon.” There’s pink coloring his cheeks, the orange glow of the sunset pronouncing his features. Cute. “I’ve imposed on you too much for an afternoon.”
And as much as he wants to disagree, tell him that he could be in his space as much as he wanted for as long as he wanted too, he doesn’t. The way Goro keeps his eyes level at the Sayuri tells him everything he needs to know about how Goro feels towards the level of vulnerability he just displayed.
“Aw,” he says anyway, because he can’t help but try and get a reaction from whoever is standing in front of him. “You can come back anytime.”
Goro tucks his hair behind his ear, turning to look at Akira through his lashes. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Akira laughs, and it makes him nervous, how much he wishes Goro would hold him to more than... whatever this is. “I’ll walk you to the train,” he says, for a lack of anything else to say. Half of Japan may want him behind bars, but he still had manners.
Goro perks up, letting a smile rest on his face. It looked nice there. “Just a moment.” He slides off his chair, only looking back when he’s about to climb the stairs to the attic. “I’ll be right back,” he says, and then he’s gone.
Akira wastes no time in opening their thieves group chat, spamming it several times with oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit.
He doesn’t have enough time to formulate a reply even though Ann replies (??? akira r u ok) and Yusuke (Is something troubling you?) does as well, mind racing faster than what his fingers can keep up with. His phone is buzzing steadily in his pocket when Akechi re-emerges at the base of the stairs, coat straightened out neatly and gloves pulled over his hands once more, traces of his afternoon nap nowhere to be seen.
“Is something the matter, Akira?” Goro tilts his head, the way he does when he’s really thinking, and Akira just shrugs, going for nonchalant even though he’s buzzing just as much as his phone is.
“Nah,” Akira lies. He hopes he’s a good liar. He lays his apron on the counter before walking around it, pulling the door open. He'd flipped the sign to closed hours ago. “Shall we?”