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It starts with an accidental brush of their hands on one of their café outings as they both reach for a napkin at the same time.
The contact has Goro sucking in air, all his nerve endings on fire, his hand freezing while Akira pulls his away immediately. He feels the blush on his cheeks and all his mind can scream is no, touch me more, don't turn away.
Goro slowly turns his head to Akira, ashamed but ready to pretend nothing has happened just now.
The other stares at him with a mix of surprise and curiosity.
“Uh, sorry.”
He definitely noticed.
Goro knows in that moment that he's screwed.
They don't talk about it, but keep their hands to themselves for the rest of the day as they make stilted smalltalk and stare into their respective cups of coffee.
Their group is training in Mementos with Goro at the front when it happens again.
He gets hit by a particularly nasty curse attack that leaves him on the ground, struggling to regain his bearings. Goro grits his teeth and swallows a few choice words down—with Loki, he wouldn't have any trouble decimating the foes in front of him. Just one attack would be enough to turn them into the ground he walks on and he would watch the fear in their eyes as they-
"Are you alright, Crow?”
An outstretched hand clothed in red appears in front of him. Akira.
Goro is too surprised to react to the offer. Is the battle over already?
He stares dumbly at Akira’s face—his very handsome face, he notices. His vision swims at the edges and turns white with every move that he tries to make to get up. Has Mementos always been this… flashy?
“No good. Panther, Mona, can you cast something to patch him up?”
The words float right past him, just like the confused shouting of the Phantom Thieves everywhere around him. All that registers in his brain is that he could listen to Akira’s voice for hours and hours and would not get tired of it.
He regains just a little bit of awareness when an arm sneaks around his back.
Akira is warm against him as he pulls him up, giving Goro just a small serious glance laced with a hint of concern for his teammate, so typical Joker that it almost makes him scoff.
He feels his hand shift a bit lower to hold his waist for better support, and Goro can’t help it—he sighs in pleasure and leans into him.
Akira stills for a second. Then he says: “Can you stand on your own?”
Goro doesn’t answer, too occupied concentrating on Akira’s hand around him and his face so close to his, but when Akira lets go of him just a little bit, experimentally, his legs give out and he stumbles forwards.
Akira catches him before he can tumble down once more and this time, Goro burrows right into him, leaving his leader confused and blushing as he snuggles up to him, confused and dazed.
They don’t talk about this either once Goro regains his bearings and finds himself standing in Shibuya station, getting confused, concerned and even suggestive looks from the other Phantom Thieves as he disentangles himself from Akira.
The third time is not so much an accident as a taunt.
Goro sits on his usual stool in Leblanc, blissfully having forgotten about the last few embarrassing encounters and eager to dive right into a game of chess, when Akira refills his coffee cup from behind him and casually splays a hand against his back.
He sits up straight as a beanpole, his eyes fixating on the steam rising from the cup, desperately trying to not say anything weird, or worse: lean back into Akira’s body warmth right behind him.
“Here you go. Want any sugar with that?”
Goro would say this is all a coincidence, just a casual touch, but Akira knows that he doesn’t like sugar in his coffee. And besides, the smirk that dances on the other’s lips betrays him well enough already.
“Are you making a fool of me, Kurusu?” Goro says with feigned neutrality, trying hard to not just bite the words out at Akira and keep his public mask from slipping.
“Not really,” he shrugs and sinks down on the stool right next to Akechi’s. Way too close for his tastes. “You just looked so stressed.”
“And how exactly would leaning on me help with that?” Goro asks, all smiles and innocence now, his heart beating wildly in his chest and his blood boiling in anger. He takes a sip of the hot coffee just to calm his nerves.
Akira leans on the counter and looks Goro up and down. “You know, I’m really good at massages.”
Goro almost chokes on his coffee. Keeping his face even, he throws a disdainful look at Akira. “I’m glad you are so confident in your abilities, but I think I’ll pass.” And just so he doesn’t have to look at the other again, he takes another sip.
“Of course,” Akira hums and stands up. Goro thinks he’s going to back off the topic and move around the counter again, but two hands softly brushing over his shoulders almost make him slam his cup of coffee down.
“Wh-What?” he asks, craning his neck to look at Akira and see what he’s planning, but then his fingers start kneading his tense shoulders, and oh, that feels way too good.
Goro immediately melts like putty in his hands, sighing softly as he feels the ever-present tension flow out of his shoulders with each skilled stroke against his sore muscles.
“Just a little demonstration so you know what you’re missing out on,” Akira mumbles, moving his hands lower and applying the same effort to his whole back.
In the back of his mind, Goro knows that he should get away, maybe politely say something about not being up for any kind of physical contact, but the damage is already done: he can’t hide the blissed out look on his face and especially not the soft sighs that escape him whenever Akira’s fingers knead at a particularly tense spot.
He doesn’t know how long this goes on, Akira devoting all his attention to massaging out the knots in his back and him too concentrated on every brush of his fingers to even think about any words that could get him out of this situation.
It feels like an eternity later and yet like no time has passed at all when Akira’s hands stop moving. Goro wakes up slowly from his trance, blinking in confusion. Akira is right in front of him now, back behind the counter, looking at him with a grin. “You really enjoyed that, huh. Feeling better now?”
Goro scrambles back and off the stool in sudden panic as he realises what just transpired. “I think I’ll be taking my leave,” he stutters out, throws his payment on the counter without even looking at it and then practically skips out of Leblanc, attache case in hand.
Akira doesn’t stop him, but the smirk he throws at him the next Phantom Thieves meeting says enough.
“So… I have an offer for you.”
Goro takes his eyes off the singer and looks at Akira curiously. They are visiting Jazz Jin once again and after a particularly rough day spent juggling school, his detective internship, infiltrating the Phantom Thieves and performing his particular side job, Goro is glad for the opportunity to just catch his breath and relax in his favourite place with his favourite person—no, scratch that, he’s here to collect intel on Akira. Of course.
“I’m curious. Continue,” Goro says, leaning a bit closer to the other so they wouldn’t accidentally be too loud and disrupt the performance.
Akira fiddles a bit with his hair and pushes his glasses back, a nervous habit that Goro came to recognise over the months spent with him.
“I’m kinda sorry that we’re making you run through Mementos all the time when you have enough on your plate already, what with all this detective stuff,” Akira starts, then stills and looks away, probably looking for the right words to continue. Then he grins and locks eyes with Goro again. “And you seem kinda touch-starved, you know?”
“What’s your deal, Kurusu?” Goro almost snaps at him, the only reason he holds himself back being the establishment they are in right now. Must he throw it into Goro’s face after he already spent the last few weeks agonising over every little touch or brush of Akira’s hand against his that he leant into just a bit too much to be considered normal and healthy?
The other rubs his neck sheepishly. “I think you really need a good massage or just casual touches sometimes, and it just so happens that I’m really great at both.”
Goro’s heart stutters in his chest. He feels his lungs constrict and face heat up and prays it doesn’t show in his expression.
He knows a bad pick-up line when he hears one and has expert knowledge on how to dodge them after all these years. But this is Akira, who probably means the exact opposite. The leader of the Phantom Thieves, who he merely spends time with to keep an eye on and who would definitely not be interested in anything more with Goro, offering to touch the boy who’s miserably touch-starved and probably hasn’t had a hug in ten years.
“I don’t need your pity,” Goro scoffs quietly, then remembers that he’s in public, with an unassuming Akira, and puts on a casual smile. “I suppose we’re done with this topic, no?”
But before he can stir the conversation elsewhere or even think about an excuse for leaving for the night, Akira reaches over the table and intertwines their hands.
“It’s not pity. I just… know how it feels, I guess.”
There’s a retort on the tip of his tongue together with a convenient excuse to bolt out of here and go into radio silence for the next few days, but it’s all forgotten when Akira starts stroking his thumb over his hand.
He supposes that Akira has a point. This is… nice. Soothing, even, now that the initial confusion and excitement is subsiding in favour of calmness.
Maybe he could get away with enjoying this for just a moment longer. There’s no harm in indulging in loose contact if Akira is offering, right?
Besides, the other looks just as affected by the contact. Goro suspects that maybe both of them are in need of some kind of comfort, even if just physical.
Goro doesn’t say a single word for the rest of the night, but he keeps their hands intertwined as they listen to the soft jazz music together, Akira occasionally giving him a soft smile.
In hindsight, Goro should have known it would only get worse from here on.
It starts with casual touches after battle, as if checking on the other non-verbally, fleeting brushes of their hands and gentle touching of their shoulders that no one except them notices. While it throws him off guard more than actually helping him, he likes that he now has an opportunity to make sure Akira is safe, that he's still there. And from the looks of it, Akira appreciates it.
Goro thinks he knows why whenever he watches his teammates continue on without so much as a glance. He should not blame them for working efficiently for once, but he can't help but feel bitter when he observes Akira slouching ever so slightly and using healing items when he thinks no one's looking.
Ever the selfless leader with no shoulder to lean on lest he wants to show weakness and risk disrupting the dynamic he so carefully crafted over the last few months.
Goro knows that this is dangerous territory that he should escape as soon as possible. While merely standing too close to Akira was unfamiliar before, now it feels even stranger to sit too far apart, to not give each other playful shoves, to leave Akira's hand alone and not reach for it when he looks off into the distance with that look in his eyes.
And then they start holding hands for real. At first only in the Monabus where no one can see, but soon enough, it becomes so normal that one time their hands just find each other without them noticing. It’s only when the other Phantom Thieves fall silent and stare that Goro notices how screwed he is.
Akira seems to realise the same, judging from his flustered expression, but he makes no move to separate their hands. Goro himself is not sure what would be the best course of action here.
“Uh, dude… you two gay or something?” Skull is the first to break the silence.
Goro already hears Panther giggling behind him and all his instincts flare up and scream at him for confrontation, a lifetime of experiencing harassment just for being drawn to boys rather than girls having taught him that offence is the best defence if you want to survive.
“How is that any of your business, Skull?” he snaps without giving it much thought and demonstratively interlaces his fingers with Akira’s.
All the thieves including Akira stare at him in shock and only then does Goro realise what he just said.
“Oh… Congrats?” Queen offers, her face pale and eyes wide.
“I knew it!” Panther shouts. Goro opts to ignore her.
In fact, Goro opts to ignore any of them as he leaves for the palace entrance, not looking back even a single time, too afraid they could see the deep blush on his cheeks.
He’s too confused about the fact that the knowledge that all the Phantom Thieves now think that their leader is his alone fills him with such deep satisfaction.
Nevermind that Akira tells him later with a snicker that most of the Phantom Thieves are not exactly straight themselves, taking away any and all reason for his outburst with unfortunate wording.
They don’t really clear the situation up, only addressing it briefly over drinks at Jazz Jin.
“So we’re dating, huh?” Akira asks, mischief evident in his eyes.
Goro tries to ignore how his heart simultaneously soars and sinks.
“It’s more convenient to say if we keep up our deal,” he simply responds.
“Sure thing, honey.”
Only later does he wonder why he talked as if he had agreed to Akira’s idea in the first place.
It's a late night at Leblanc with only the two of them there when Akira, having been strangely nervous all day, comes around the counter, winds his trembling arms around Goro's midsection and breaks into tears.
Goro is too perplexed to say anything but figures that it wouldn't be wrong to hug Akira back.
Just as quickly as it had happened, Akira separates himself from him and sniffs something about everything being too much lately, about not knowing who else to come to.
Goro just pulls him in again and the longer he holds Akira close to himself, the more it feels like this is exactly where the other has always belonged to.
They wind up cuddling too by the end of the week. Goro can’t really recall how it happened the first time—maybe Akira just leaned on him one day and stayed like that, maybe one of the goodbye hugs he insists on giving ever since that awkward first embrace evolved into something more.
Under no normal circumstances would Goro have let it come this far. But by now he’s almost addicted to Akira’s hand in his, his fingers wandering over his back, his body snuggling against his and his head leaning on his shoulder.
He’s telling himself that he’s allowed to indulge in this because it will end soon anyways.
They are almost done with Sae’s palace and agreed to have a few days off to rest and prepare. Akira insisted on buying supplies with him and Morgana took one look at their joined hands before declaring that he has better things to do with his time. Good riddance in Goro’s eyes. While he has to admit that he grew fond of the cat, he prefers to have his time with Akira without anyone else.
Currently, they are back at Leblanc and sorting through their haul on Akira’s sad excuse of a bed that creaks every time Goro just sits on it.
A mattress on top of crates. There’s nothing that gets Goro more in the mood for physical contact. Not that he lets himself think that far, though.
Not when Akira will wind up dead in just a week’s time. The mere thought makes him nauseous, but he’s used to pushing the off button on his feelings and just act. But in the back of his mind, he wonders when the hour will come where he has to make a definite decision.
He’s trying to decide if he should pocket the bandages himself or toss them on the pile for the other thieves when Akira sneaks his arms around his torso and leans his head on his back.
Akira’s breath tickles his nape and suddenly, all thoughts about supplies and infiltrations are gone from his mind. In his mind, Goro counts to three before exhaling and leaning back.
“Are you trying to procrastinate, Akira?” Goro jokes, but he makes no effort to remove the other’s arms.
And when did he start calling him Akira?
Akira hums something unintelligible. Then, he pushes his face up and says more coherently: “Bet you aren’t as good as me at giving massages, darling.”
It’s bait. So obviously too. He should not fall for taunts like these, not when they are planning for their palace infiltration. And especially not when they play into their little game they started. Pet names aren’t even the worst thing about all of this.
Goro opens his mouth to tell him off and remind him that the team is relying on them for supplies. What comes out instead is: “Lie down and I’ll prove you wrong.”
That’s how he ends up straddling Akira Kurusu’s hips while the other lies face down on the mattress, a grin on his lips that Goro yearns to wipe off. He's desperately trying to keep his thoughts under control and keep his hands from shaking.
Goro feels embarrassed like never before when he finally puts his hands on the other’s back—after all, he has never given a massage before. Experimentally, he kneads the flesh around his shoulders a bit. Akira sighs into the pillow, which is as much confirmation as he needs to continue with more determination.
Maybe a bit too much, actually—it only takes a few minutes for Akira to cry out that he’s too rough.
“Oh, are you too weak to handle it?” Goro reverses his game on him and Akira grumbles something into the pillow and stops complaining.
He moves up to Akira’s neck after a while, remembering that this was where he was the most sensitive whenever the other gave him a massage. As predicted, Akira mewls softly under him, the sound going straight to his heart and making him blush.
By now Goro is determined to give him the best massage he's ever had, if only to hear more of his voice like that.
Soon enough, he encounters his first obstacle, though. The collar of Akira’s shirt bunches up uncomfortably where Goro’s hands work and he can’t hold back a small huff as he’s reaching under it, trying to find a comfortable position.
“Just take it off,” Akira then says as nonchalantly as ever.
Just take it off. Of course it’s that easy for him. Goro can’t even imagine how his body would react to straddling a shirtless Akira in his bed. How would he even concentrate on the massage? And besides…
“Why me? Take it off yourself.”
He should really get a filter for his thoughts before they leave his mouth.
Akira chuckles into the pillow. “Too lazy. You do that. Or can’t you do it?”
“You’re baiting me again,” Goro says. “I’m inclined to think you’re just looking for an excuse to have my hands on your body.”
Goro is digging his grave deeper, right into the lowest levels of hell, but now that he has started, he finds it hard to stop.
This is an incredibly dangerous game to play, but right now, the risk is worth it to Goro. Especially when Akira turns his head and throws him a heavy look.
“Maybe. Are you willing to indulge me?”
Almost as if on instinct, Goro’s hands move down to the hem of Akira’s shirt, pulling up slowly, making sure to drag his fingertips against his skin. Akira shivers and groans quietly and the sound only spurs Goro on as he pulls the shirt higher, revealing more and more of Akira’s toned back-
“I’m closing up for the day, you boys don’t do anything rash- Hoo boy. Good heavens.”
Immediately, Goro scrambles off Akira and further into the bed while Akira squeals and pulls the blanket over himself. He looks up to come face to face with Leblanc’s owner, who gives them a distraught look that morphs into outright anger as he sees both their reactions to his arrival.
Goro can’t say anything, frozen in fear. He knows that Sojiro Sakura is a force to be reckoned with and he would very much prefer to still have his afternoon coffee break without any pointed looks, but he doesn’t have the slightest clue how to save the situation.
“Sojirooo,” Akira whines from under his cocoon, “you ruined my massage.”
His caretaker stares at the shape under the blanket with a mix of various emotions, then sighs and rubs his temples. “... I'm not even going to try and question it now. We’re going to have a talk about your… boyfriend first thing tomorrow.”
Not him too.
Goro watches the man leave the attic, not before throwing a comment at them about staying safe that makes Goro flush harder than he ever has in his life.
He groans and sits up, embarrassment heating his face up uncomfortably. He’s going to leave town, change his name, move far, far away from Leblanc and its owner-
“Hey, at least he lets us have our fun.”
Goro throws a pillow at a laughing Akira, but doesn’t protest when he pulls him into bed and says something about returning the favour.
It’s the night before they steal the treasure and Goro and Akira are strolling through Kichijoji after a trip to Jazz Jin, holding hands as if it’s the most normal thing in all of Tokyo.
Goro feels like the worst he has ever been. It must show on his face, because Akira squeezes his hand affectionately. “Don’t worry so much about tomorrow, Goro.”
How could he not, when he is the one with all the tricks up his sleeve? When he alone knows of Akira’s fate?
And here he was hoping Akira would figure it out, throwing him hint after hint, making allegories and remarks that would make anyone suspicious.
Because here’s the truth: Goro doesn’t want him to die, but he’s too cowardly to back off. He knows that should he not finish the job, Shido will send someone worse after Akira, and planning with that requires even more adjustment to his plan that he’s not quite ready for yet.
The guilt weighs even heavier knowing that Akira trusts him. That he cares about him like no one did before. That he touches him like he needs him too.
Just the night before, Goro realised with a start that this is not just plain interest or platonic affection. This runs deep enough to hurt and make him question everything he ever felt about the world, himself, his revenge plan, Akira.
Goro should have choked off whatever came to life between them the moment Akira laid his hands on him for the first time and made him yearn for more.
“Our deal ends tomorrow,” Goro says into the night, not looking at Akira. “The Phantom Thieves will disband and you and I will go back to how it was before.”
Maybe he’s saying it more to convince himself of it. The reality is much worse.
Akira doesn’t show any reaction, but his thumb starts stroking over the back of his hand. Goro feels himself start to tremble just slightly—he always loved when Akira does that. He’s going to miss it.
“It doesn’t have to end, you know.”
Ridiculous words. Goro wants to kiss them right out of his mouth.
“I suppose I could still drop by the café from time to time,” he says absentmindedly, his voice hollow. No way in hell could he look into Sakura’s eyes after tomorrow.
Akira suddenly pulls his hand and turns them to face each other.
“Not just for coffee, you know,” he says and the nervousness is plain evident on his face.
Stop, Goro thinks. Not now.
But Akira takes his other hand in his too and continues: “Who else is going to play chess and billiards with me? And take me to his favourite places?” He pauses for a moment. “Who else will hold me when I need it…?”
“I’m sure there are many other people,” Goro bites out, remembering the looks his teammates gave their leader when they thought no one was looking.
“But I don’t want anyone else.”
Akira brings a hand up to softly brush a strand of hair from Goro’s face, but when Goro closes his eyes on instinct and focuses on the contact, he lets his hand stay and softly strokes through his hair.
It’s easy as always to forget about everything and just concentrate on Akira so close to him, touching him softly, as if he’s something precious.
“Can I do something stupid?” Akira asks then, the words coming out as nothing more than a whisper.
Goro opens his eyes and meets his gaze, not prepared for its intensity. Any and all questions and objections get stuck in his throat and all he can do is nod, heart beating wildly in anticipation.
Their hands separate as Akira winds his around his waist instead and Goro feels his breath coming out quicker. He tangles one hand in Akira’s shirt and pulls, urging him closer, his head swimming and thoughts only focused on Akira, Akira, Akira.
When Akira presses just a short, tentative peck against the corner of his lips, Goro breaks and pulls the other back in to smash their mouths together.
It’s clumsy and inexperienced, yet even better than all the times he fantasised about this moment. Their lips meet time and time again, Akira tilting his head to fit better against Goro, pulling him in as if desperate to get even closer.
They should have done this ages ago. Goro realises in the back of his mind that this is probably the last time he’s going to feel this—Akira’s lips moving against his so wonderfully, his soft sighs that get swallowed by Goro’s mouth and the warmth of his mouth as he opens it to let Goro in.
His chest constricts.
It’s so unfair. Everything and everyone he likes gets taken away by that horrible excuse of a father. He’s sick of it.
He separates himself from Akira and stares at him: at his familiar silver eyes, the delicate flush that spreads all the way to his neck, at the way he’s breathing quickly with his rosy lips parted as if begging for Goro to continue.
There's so much trust and affection in his expression and Goro hates that it's directed at the wrong person.
“I’m going to kill you tomorrow.”
The words slip out as easy as breathing and it takes Goro a moment to realise that he spoke out loud. His eyes widen in panic and he’s prepared to make it a joke or find any excuse. I'm going to kill you if this fails, if you get hurt-
“I know.”
Akira's face is the softest it has ever been, and Goro's heart shatters and melds itself back together.
And then he pulls him close and into a hug.
Goro feels as if he’s both on fire and freezing over, trembling in his arms.
Akira knows. He probably knew all along. His plan is for naught, always has been, and for weeks, he played him a fool. Goro was outsmarted by him once again, because of course Akira Kurusu is always a step ahead.
Yet strangely enough, it makes him feel relieved amidst all the confusion and frustration.
He leans into Akira and winds his arms around him too, not caring that the other can probably feel him shaking and especially not pointing out that Akira isn’t keeping perfectly still either.
They stay like that for a long time, holding onto each other for dear life in a random alley in Kichijoji, past any acceptable time where people their age should be outside.
“What now?” Akira asks after a few minutes, nuzzling his face into the crook of Goro’s neck.
“I… don’t know,” Goro responds with more honesty than he has ever allowed himself today.
Akira hums. “I think coming back to Leblanc with me might be a good start. And… we could cuddle while we talk.”
Goro smiles. There’s still lots of things on his mind and so many questions for Akira he’s not sure he even wants the answer to. Most importantly, he should figure out what to do from here on. But for now, he’s content to just have Akira in his arms. To know he’s safe.
“That… might be nice.”
They will figure it out together later. He leans back in for another kiss, if only to assure himself that Akira is still there and that he can still touch him.