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Barnaby did not expect Kotetsu to change once they started dating. In fact, if anything, he expected things to mostly continue as they were, albeit with more kisses and perhaps some hand-holding under their desks where nobody could see it.
So it came as a surprise when Kotetsu started...overcompensating.
First it was coffee every morning. Then it was flowers every afternoon. Then it was actually finishing his paperwork in something resembling a timely manner, which was Barnaby's first clue that something was up, considering how much Kotetsu hated paperwork and how much time Barnaby spent badgering him into doing it.
Then Kotetsu started biting his tongue and stopped complaining about interviews. Then he stopped arguing with Barnaby entirely and that, that was when Barnaby knew something was actually wrong.
The last straw was when Barnaby asked Kotetsu to put on some music while he was cooking dinner and Kotetsu put on the score from Don Giovanni.
Barnaby threw down his knife, stalked across the living room, and switched off the record player. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Kotetsu jerked back from the record player. "Nothing's wrong with me!"
Barnaby pointed at the records strewn on the floor. "You hate opera. Why in the world would you put it on to listen to?"
"But you like it," Kotetsu said. "And I don't mind—"
"Yes, you do," Barnaby cut in. "I know you do. You complain about it every time I put it on in the car."
Except since we started dating, he realized.
"It's not that bad," Kotetsu said defensively. "Maybe I should've given it more of a chance."
Barnaby narrowed his eyes. "You've given it plenty of chances. I know you don't like it. You know you don't like it. And this isn't the first time you've done something like this recently. So, again, what the hell is wrong with you?"
Kotetsu's gaze darted off to the corner and he rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah, Bunny, I don't know what you're—"
"Kotetsu."
Barnaby said it more harshly than he'd meant to, but it had the effect of stopping whatever ridiculous excuse Kotestu was about to come up with in its tracks.
Kotetsu didn't respond for the longest time, and then said very quietly, "I don't want to screw this up."
Barnaby was convinced he'd misheard. "What?"
"I screw a lot of things up," Kotestu said, still quietly but more clearly now. "I don't want to screw this up."
Barnaby wanted to shake him. He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and waited until he could say something other than you idiot over and over. "I don't need you to like opera."
"Bunny—"
They were standing within arm's reach, but Barnaby stepped closer anyway and hooked his fingers under one of Kotetsu's suspenders. "I don't need you to like opera or buy me coffee every day or bring me flowers. I don't need you to love interviews or agree with me on everything. I fell in love with you, Kotetsu, exactly as you are. I don't want you to change into someone you're not trying to keep me. You already have me."
Kotetsu grabbed Barnaby's jacket collar and hauled him in for a kiss. Barnaby blinked—it still surprised him that they could do this—and then he slid his arms around Kotetsu's waist to return the kiss properly.
"Sorry, Bunny," Kotetsu murmured.
The apology seemed redundant—Barnaby was reasonably sure that was what the kiss had been—but it was appreciated regardless. "It's fine. Just stop trying so hard."
"I promise," Kotetsu said. "So...does that mean I can stop doing paperwork?"
Barnaby kissed the corner of his mouth. "No, it does not."
Kotetsu sighed, but he was smiling. "Eh, worth a try."