Work Text:
If there was one thing that could defeat Akira, it was the cold. He'd always preferred summer and sunlight. Warmth instead of cold. The colder it became, the more he bundled up. A direct contrast to Goro, who seemingly was able to ignore all temperature differences, wearing sweaters in summer and shorts in winter, not caring about the weather forecast in the slightest.
Moving in together brought about more than one change to their attire. While Goro now sometimes wrestled himself into one of Akira’s shirts to appear a bit more casual, Akira finally relented under Goro’s disapproving gaze and started wearing a pair of gloves once the temperatures dropped instead of shoving his hands into the nearest available pocket. Their wardrobes moved closer together and they suddenly tied for the ugly Christmas sweater contest Futaba insisted on holding every year until they were both disqualified for teaming up.
It also led to more than one occasion of clothing theft between them.
Sweater
It was gone. No sign of it on the bed or next to it. Not in the closet. He was pretty sure it had been there, after all, he had left it on the bed intending to wear it after his shower. The pants and everything else hadn’t moved an inch. Just the sweater was missing.
And he already had a vague idea where it was. For now, Goro resigned himself to pulling a random sweater out of Akira’s closet and wearing that. (He wasn’t sure how Akira was able to find the most sinfully soft clothes with the most hideous print. But the cat’s paws all over the front and back proved his theory right. Again. Utterly comfortable, soft and fashionable didn’t exist.)
Now to find his boyfriend and the vanished sweater, and glare as disapproving as possible at him, until he broke down with laughter and tried to appease him by letting him choose the movie for the evening. At least then he could escape another one of those sickeningly sweet Christmas romcoms Akira usually was in the mood for around this time of the year. Not because he enjoyed them, but because he liked to pick them apart. And while Goro played along most of the time, even enjoyed them bantering over it, he had a backlog of Science Fiction movies he wanted to get to.
He may have lost the sweater, but he would win the fight for the remote.
The humming and clattering coming from their kitchen immediately clued him into where he could find the wanted clothes thief. If he wanted to cover his tracks, he would have to do better. Maybe leave no glaringly obvious hints at the scene of the crime.
He leaned against the doorframe, watching Akira bustle around, throwing things into bowls, sometimes scowling at a recipe book, flipping between two pages before pulling out more ingredients.
“Weren’t you wearing another shirt?” Akira didn’t startle but turned around with an expression everyone else would call clueless, but Goro had been around his boyfriend long enough to know when he was feigning innocence.
“No? I’ve been wearing this the whole day.”
He hadn’t. The black turtleneck he had worn before, was lying on one of the chairs next to him. Dusted with a mix of whatever he had probably been mixing at the time. Goro was now positive he could recreate the steps that had led to the theft.
“You’ve been wearing my limited-edition featherman sweater the whole day? The featherman sweater that was, and I quote ‘too big and scratchy for you’ which is the reason you gifted it to me?”
It wasn’t scratchy at all. It was too big. At least three sizes, which meant it had the perfect size to bundle up when the weather got colder and someone wanted to spend the rest of the day curled up on the couch. Which Akira knew.
And now he was probably going to stain it with whatever he had ruined his previous turtleneck with. The turtleneck Goro was now glaring holes into.
Which Akira had noticed because he could see one of his feet hook into the bottom of the chair and pull it behind the kitchen island, where it vanished together with the offending garment.
His rising eyebrow was greeted with Akira trying to look even more innocent, a look that was ruined by the grin he couldn’t keep down.
As far as Goro could see, there were two ways this could go down. He could either try to argue with Akira about the sweater as he usually did or let him stew in the knowledge that they both knew what he had done, while never uttering a word about it. Which would instantly grant him the upper hand. And anyway, he would get the sweater back, smelling like both of them after Akira had crawled into his lap during the movie. More than one win in his mind.
So, his next steps were clear.
He smiled one of the smiles Akira had declared devastatingly handsome, even though he himself couldn’t see the appeal, immediately preening at the way Akira’s cheeks colored, and the way he let go of the bowl he was currently holding.
“Finish up here, if you miss the beginning of the movie, I won’t explain it to you.”
With that, Goro turned around and made his way towards the living room. The sooner he got to the remote, the better.
“But we haven’t even settled on a movie! Goro? Goro!”
Glove(s)
Akira slowly crept along the floor towards the dresser. Goro was still sleeping, a rare occurrence, since he usually forced himself to wake up as early as Akira did. Which meant he stayed grumpy until he got his morning coffee, ignoring all hints that he could go back to bed and sleep another two hours since he didn’t need to be awake. The hints were mostly for show since Goro was just as stubborn as he was, and he had kind of gotten used to having a sleepy Goro draped over his shoulders or latching onto his waist, demanding coffee, and nuzzling whatever he could reach.
Disturbing him now, that he finally was sleeping in, was out of the question. And because he would immediately know what Akira was doing. Which was totally not searching for the glove he usually kept in a box away from his boyfriend’s prying eyes.
It had started as a harmless joke. That Goro would never get his glove back because then he always had a reason to come back to Akira. That it was Akira’s greatest treasure and heist. The glove and heart of a detective. And Goro had taken it as a challenge. Instead of the painfully romantic sentiment Akira had intended his comment to be, Goro had apparently heard that if he wanted his glove back, he had to steal it back, proving he was the better thief. Typical. Which led to Akira tiptoeing his way across their bedroom, trying to find out if Goro had put his old glove with all the other pairs he owned.
He wouldn’t put it past his boyfriend to think it would be the one hiding place Akira wouldn’t check. Which was wrong. Whenever Akira felt particularly sentimental during winter, he would open the box. And whenever he found the glove missing, the first thing he checked were his own mantle pockets and then Goro’s dresser.
Five times out of ten he found it in one of them. Which meant Goro would be especially smug, only waiting for Akira to ask how long he had been hiding it there.
The upper drawer needed to be slightly lifted before he could pull it out without making any noise, his hands finding the sides to grip it easy enough.
Slow and steadily pulling it towards him, he tried to keep his ears alert for any change in Goro’s sleeping form. When nothing happened, he pulled it further until he could see the contents in the light of the alarm clock Goro only dimmed when he didn’t have work or on holidays.
As every time before, an unbelievable number of gloves greeted him from the open drawer. The first few years, it had been a bit of a joke, every gift he gave Goro coming with a side of gloves because it seemed like a safe option until he realized the other Thieves somehow had the same idea. And Goro hadn’t said anything and sat on a hoard of gloves like a very confused dragon.
Not that he minded. He had resigned himself to the fact that he was now collecting gloves and began matching them to his clothing so that he would have the opportunity to wear every last pair of them. In Akira’s mind the best outcome.
But it meant he now had to shift through a mountain of gloves, trying to find one singular worn leather glove that Goro had thrown at him years ago. Without waking Goro up.
As expected, the glove was in there. He managed to find it within ten minutes, only because Goro would have thrown every other glove that was in the same condition away.
Now he just had to move all the other gloves back into their original places, so Goro wouldn’t catch on to him taking it back.
Akira was currently comparing two pairs of gloves, trying to figure out if they belonged together or not when he heard something shuffling behind him.
“What are you doing with my gloves?”
Akira sheepishly dropped them before turning around, obscuring the drawer with his body.
“Nothing?”
Goro emerged from the bed, hair sticking into all directions, like a wrathful downy bird.
“Why are you asking me? Aren’t you the one who’s supposedly doing ‘nothing’?”
He made a show out of thinking about it, using the short pause to stuff the glove up his left sleeve. Then he held up his arms as if to show that he hadn’t taken any more than the pair he had let go off.
“I may have lost my gloves.”
Akira could feel the eye roll in his bones, as well as the groan and the dramatic flop Goro made back onto his blanket and pillows. His cheeks turned red against his will. It was the closest excuse he could think of, and sadly the most believable. One of the reasons he was usually not allowed near Goro’s glove collection.
Goro grunted something into his pillow that sounded suspiciously like he was threatening to sew the next pair onto his hands. Then he turned back around, unwrapped the blanket, and lifted it while gesturing at Akira.
“I’ll lend you one of mine. Now, come back to bed.”
Akira reflexively stepped closer, before he remembered the glove up his sleeve, nearly burning against his arm. The offer was more than tempting. It was one of Goro’s ways of asking for cuddles without actually asking for them. And Akira really wanted to get back into bed. He had just gotten up out of habit, there was no reason to refuse. No other reason than him wanting to get away with his theft.
“I just got up.”
Goro’s glare was impressive, even though he still looked like he would immediately fall asleep the moment he closed his eyes. Akira withstood the temptation to pat his head. Barely.
“You’re still in your pajamas. And I know you don’t have to get up today. Come. Here.”
Akira could admit he had a few weaknesses. One of those was currently trying to entice him back to bed, offering cuddles and warmth. A bit of those couldn’t hurt, right? The glove entirely forgotten, he was climbing in, perking up at the satisfied rumble Goro let out, arms and blanket settling around him.
They tangled together until Akira couldn’t tell where he ended and Goro began, his face coming to rest on Goro’s chest.
And even though he would swear he’d been fully awake for the last half hour, he could immediately feel himself get drowsy, the warmth and proximity to Goro making it far too easy to fall back asleep.
“Just one or two hours,” he murmured into his boyfriend’s chest that was already moving with regular breaths. It didn’t take much more for his eyes to slip closed and his own breathing to even out.
Later, after Goro’s alarm woke them up once more and they were busy with their respective routines, Akira would feel for the glove in his sleeve, only to end up cursing upon finding it missing. Which in turn would prompt Goro to cackle, opening the door to the bathroom a gap only to fling the glove in Akira’s face.
Sweater (vest)
“This is not funny.”
“It kind of is, honey.”
“This is a horrible present.”
“But they put so much thought into it!”
“They’re not even my usual colors.”
“Maybe they wanted you to wear some others?”
“Still no reason to buy me a sweater vest with a black and red plaid pattern!”
He should have thrown the thing away. Instead, he had shoved it in the back of his closet, as he did with all unwanted presents. And now his boyfriend was proudly wearing it, a drink in hand, cheerfully conversing with a guy he could vaguely recall seeing in one of his lectures. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into him to show Akira the invitation to the Christmas party his university was hosting and suggest to attend it together, but he was sure it had to have been a short bout of insanity.
Not that Akira didn’t look good in it. The colors suited him far more than they would have him, but Goro was pretty sure there was some mockery of his clothing style involved. The gift was clearly intended as one.
And he had made sure to dress appropriately. He may have resorted to stealing one of Akira’s turtlenecks after taking far too long deliberating over his outfit, but by the appreciative glances he had gotten through the evening, he was pretty sure it had the effect he had wanted to achieve.
Since both of them had been busy and were unable to meet up before coming here, they had resolved to arrive separately and then leave together once they had enough of socializing with people that Goro could at best describe as acquaintances and Akira wasn’t familiar with at all. After arriving it had just been the matter of finding Akira and watching him get flustered, the same way he always did whenever Goro wore his clothes in public. Which now, that he had spotted him, politely laughing at whatever the person opposite him said, was on the backburner, since he was wearing that awful sweater vest.
Smoothly, he inserted himself the way he always did into conversations, one of his arms curling around Akira’s waist but ignoring the happy face his boyfriend made at his appearance.
He couldn’t even recall what exactly they were talking about, the more than once rehearsed pleasantries falling from his lips with an ease he hadn’t experienced since his teenage years. All the while being distracted by the abomination of a sweater vest Akira was proudly displaying. He would never wear the ones he owned near any of the people in this building. And he would burn the one Akira was wearing the moment he got home. There was only so much mockery he could take.
Once the person whose name he still didn’t know excused themselves, Akira immediately turned to him, playfully tugging at the hem of the turtleneck.
“Aww, you’re not wearing yours.”
As if Akira had anticipated him showing up in a sweater vest when he was here to show off the successful relationship he was in while having an equally successful academic career. Which seemed to be the function of this party, as far as he had understood it. And was probably the reason why he had wanted Akira to come.
All he did was stare at his clown of a boyfriend, willing his brain not to comment on the fact that Akira made this particular sweater vest look good, and not even trying to answer his inane comment in any way.
“I wanted us to match.”
And now Akira was pouting. Of course.
Without thinking, he used the palm of his hand to shove his boyfriend’s face to the side, raising the other to hide the blush that was threatening to overtake his face. Akira usually never pouted, so whenever he was doing it, Goro felt himself folding far too easily.
“You’re the worst.”
Laughing, Akira stopped contorting his face and intertwined their arms, steering him to the nearest table, probably to get him something to drink.
“I know. Come on, introduce me to more people you barely know.”
Coat (and gloves)
“No. Absolutely not.”
Akira smoothed down the collar of the mantle he was wearing and turned around, trying to keep the grin down he could feel tugging at his lips.
“Everything alright, Honey?”
Goro drew closer, turned the collar back up before smoothing it down the way it was supposed to sit. A habit that had started shortly after they had begun dating or going out together. No matter how well put together Akira looked and how much effort he put into it, Goro always found an imaginary flaw in his attire, he had to immediately fix once they met up. By now he was aware it was just one of the ways Goro liked to show his care for him, without making it obvious that he was always either watching him or watching out for him.
“I’m drawing a line at you wearing my coat.”
Which stood in direct contrast to Goro tucking the ends of the scarf under the coat until he was sure there was no gap for any of the cold air to get in.
“Unless you want to come with me, you’re not getting it back.”
As if they hadn’t discussed the whole thing and concluded that there was no reason for Goro to accompany him. The way he hadn’t packed a suitcase and was still dressed in his favorite featherman sweater and sweatpants kind of gave away that he wasn’t changing his mind anytime soon.
“If you’re not back in time, I’m going to get you.”
Worded like a threat but Akira knew by the quirk of his lips and the way he still held onto the scarf, that he meant it. It made him lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth before resting his forehead against Goro’s.
“It’s only a few days. I’ll be back before you know it.”
It was a rather familiar song and dance, even though the roles were reversed this time. Usually, it was Goro leaving for a few days dealing with a work emergency no one else could deal with. Akira leaving was new, so the for Goro rather unusual if not outright clingy behavior was more than understandable.
A few more kisses and reassurances that he would be back as soon as possible, every single one either met with a scoff or a comment about how he’d better be back before the holidays, he finally made it out the door, reluctantly leaving his boyfriend and their warm apartment behind.
It was colder than he thought, the hand pulling the suitcase already feeling as if it was about to freeze off once he was about two streets away.
Carefully, Akira put his left hand in his pocket to give it a break, his right taking hold of the suitcase. He didn’t expect to meet resistance and was startled when he felt something soft meeting his hand. Stopping to pull out whatever had obstructed his plan to warm up his hands, he started smiling at the worn leather greeting his gaze. Goro usually didn’t store gloves in his coats since he wasn’t prone to forgetting or losing them. That meant his boyfriend had probably sneaked them into the pocket while fussing over him.
Akira smiled to himself and pulled them on, two different sets of warmth settling in his bones. He couldn’t wait to get back home and give those gloves back.
Scarf
Haru had outdone herself.
No one had thought much about it, when she declared, she was going to host their Christmas gathering this year. Maybe they should have connected some dots when all she wanted from them was a dish or some sweets to share. Goro felt decidedly inadequate carrying half of the cookies and cupcakes Akira had made.
He may have helped with the icing and decoration, but most of the work had been done by Akira, a fact he was sure everyone would see once they had unpacked their delicious cargo.
(Which he knew because he may have been sneaking cookies while thoroughly distracting Akira with kisses.)
The house sparkled with light and decorations, the smell of cinnamon and chocolate all around them. Food and sweets were displayed in a stunning buffet; one place reserved for their contribution. They had busied themselves with arranging the cookies and cupcakes as pleasingly as possible, and even though he had teased Akira about the amount he had made, he was pretty sure they wouldn’t have to take a single crumb back home with them. Which was good, since they had about a similar amount of baked goods back home in their apartment.
Even the garden looked like something out of a storybook. Untouched, except for the place where Ryuji, Futaba, Shiho, and Ann were already engaged in a snowball fight, their laughter and joyous screams echoing through the landscape.
Snow in the city didn’t last long. Between people walking all over or shoveling it out of the way, the only places to explore were the parks, and even then, everyone seemed to have the same idea.
Having the party out here, with more than enough snow to romp around in, may have been the best present Haru could have made all of them. Not that he would partake in any of the childishness, but he could appreciate what she was doing.
He turned around, and Akira was already gone. Goro could spot his black hair in the snow, where he had tackled Ryuji to the ground, the two rolling around, trying to stuff snow down the other’s coats, their laughter ringing through the garden, mixing with the other voices.
He rolled his eyes and went over to where Sumire struggled with setting up a display with pastries she had brought. There was no way he would join them rolling around in the snow.
There were no less than four spontaneous snowball fights happening throughout the day, two of which Goro was roped into, once by Futaba hiding behind his back, which Sumire had used as an excuse to absolutely pelt him with snow, the second time by Akira hitting the side of his head and then cockily declaring that if Goro decided to play, he wouldn’t get hit by him. And that just meant he had to prove him wrong.
Which he did. Even though the match more or less ended with Akira batting his snowflake dotted lashes at him before shoving snow in his face before darting away, loud laughter following him. In retaliation, Goro had tackled him and shoved as much snow as he could down his shirt before pulling him towards the house so he could warm up. In between whatever activity struck their fancy, they retreated into the house, loaded up on tea and food, enjoying the warmth before running back out, animatedly chatting about what they were planning next.
Most of the day went by this way, and he had just finished a short conversation with Shiho and Ann and filled up on one of the punch options that wasn’t spiked, slowly sipping on it while having made his way back outside, when out of nowhere, Akira appeared before him
“Hey.”
His glasses were slightly askew, snow in his hair, and cheeks a fetching red.
“Hey yourself.” And before he could help himself, he was righting Akira’s glasses and brushed the snow from his hair. Slightly recoiling, the moment he touched one of his cheeks, feeling their temperature through his gloves.
“You’re cold.” He discarded the cup he had been holding and lifted both of his hands to cup his boyfriend’s cheeks, hoping the warmth would help a little.
Akira laughed, and his breath fogged in the air before them before he nuzzled closer, nearly closing his eyes.
“I don’t know if you noticed, but there’s snow everywhere. Of course, I’m cold.”
Goro didn’t bother to resist the urge to ruffle through his hair with one hand, shaking out whatever snow had made his home in it.
“You know exactly what I meant.”
A tug made his head tilt forward. Akira’s hands had pulled the lapels of his coat a few inches apart and started to paw at his scarf, slowly pulling it from his neck. Goro resigned himself to having his scarf stolen but opened his mouth in protest anyway.
“Maybe you should have worn a scarf yourself. You know, like I told you before we left.”
Akira pulled a little harder, finally loosening the scarf enough to pull it away from Goro and loop it around his own neck.
“Don’t be so grumpy. If I’m too cold, I can just go inside.”
But instead of taking off laughing with the scarf as Goro had expected, Akira reached out with a look of utmost concentration, and he felt the fabric settle back around his neck. By the time Akira had completed the second loop, Goro knew that his cheeks were probably mirroring Akira’s, even though the reason was completely different. The blush only increased when Akira gave him a blinding smile once he had finished trapping them together with the scarf and leaned forward to give him a peck on the nose.
Before Goro could help himself, he leaned in and slotted their lips together.
As always, Akira readily melted against him. Cold cheeks and an equally cold nose brushed against him, and he got lost in the familiarity of the motion. The lips sliding against his own, the sighs when he let go for a moment, and the fluttering of warmth in his chest, that drove him to connect them again and again, until all Akira knew was the way the two of them fit together.
But they were in public. And their friends didn’t need to see more PDA than necessary. Not when he could continue this later in private.
So, he drew away, ignoring Akira’s chasing lips to connect their foreheads. For a moment they breathed like this before Akira’s eyes fluttered open and he was the recipient of one of his utterly besotted smiles. Maybe now was the time to get home under the pretense of making sure Akira wouldn’t get sick? Wrangling him into their bathtub or onto their couch was equally tempting. But he was pretty sure Akira wouldn’t take it well if he cut their visit short. So, he settled for another kiss, getting ready to release Akira into the cold once again, with his scarf simultaneously serving as a trophy and mark of ownership.
“Wait! I need to get a photo of you!”
Goro turned his head, only to groan. Seemed they weren’t as unobserved as he had thought.
Sumire nearly stumbled in her haste to hurry over, only her reflexes and sense of balance saving her from planting her face in the snow. When she reached them, she straightened up with a blinding smile, raising the camera she had carried around most of the day. Except for the moments she had given it to Ann or the time she had spent wrestling it out of Yusuke’s hands, who had always managed to grab it the moment one of them left it unattended. Goro was pretty sure she had already filled one memory card with pictures. He was also sure there was a picture of him getting snow shoved into his face on it. And with the way their friends functioned they wouldn’t let him forget it. Ever.
“Now! Just ignore me and do what you were doing before!”
Akira chuckled and turned to her, the scarf coming a bit loose from the motion, forcing Goro to turn with him. There was no way he was going back to kissing Akira as long as he was aware of the camera, and he was glad Akira seemed to know it, the way he acted like he hadn’t heard her suggestion.
Instead, he sent him an imploring look, raising one of his hands in the shape of a separated heart, clearly waiting for Goro to complete it.
As if. Akira should know better. He raised his hand.
Sumire fumbled with the camera and lifted it, the flash going off once, twice and a third time, the same moment he and Akira had moved into position. Akira was already laughing, slumping against him, hand still in the heart shape he apparently never expected Goro to complete. All Goro could do was smirk at his shaking boyfriend, retracting his middle finger and wrapping one of his arms tighter around Akira’s waist.
Sumire didn’t seem bothered by the rude gesture, the same way she usually wasn’t bothered by his directness. Instead, she was beaming at the little screen of the camera, clicking through the shots she had taken.
“They look perfect! Thank you!” And with that she was taking off towards the corner of the garden in which Haru and Makoto were trying to decorate several snowmen under the guidance of Morgana, having obviously spied her next subject.
Goro squeezed Akira’s waist once more before letting go, shortly rubbing their cheeks together. They were still as cold as before, the warmth he had rubbed into them gone. That wouldn’t do.
"Let's get you somewhere warm. Before I have an icicle instead of a boyfriend."
But instead of relinquishing the scarf to Akira, he reached up and rearranged it, so it wouldn't fall the moment they started moving. Grabbing Akira's cold hand in his and putting both of them in his coat pocket, which left him no choice but to walk tucked into Goro's side, hopefully kept warm by the gesture and the proximity. And if he couldn't help himself and stop every few meters towards the house to kiss his boyfriend's blushing cheeks under the guise of warming them up, no one would know under their shared scarf.