Work Text:
i. meeting him at the T.V. station
Goro had always wanted a pet growing up.
No matter how many times he asked, implored, or pleaded he received the same resounding answer from his mother: No. Pets were a lot of responsibility—not to mention something they could not financially afford. He’d go to bed each night wishing for a companion, one that was soft and warm to cuddle with him to keep him company on the nights he had to sleep alone–not that he’d be caught dead admitting that out loud. Even in the face of repeated defeat, Goro had never let his hope that one day he’d have a pet of his very own die out.
Now, almost eight years later since he last begged his mother to reconsider, he finally understood her resistance.
“Ooh, ooh! I want to go to that huge curry bowl looking place we passed on the way here!”
“What? How didja get curry outta Dome town?” Ryuji blurted, completely ignorant of how loud he was yelling at Goro’s not-cat (and Goro by proxy) in the middle of the T.V. station hallway.
“It looks like a giant bowl of curry!” Morgana the not-cat exclaimed, digging his claws into Goro’s shoulder as he leaned closer to growl at Ryuji.
“Yeah, maybe if the bowl was upside down,” Ryuji fired back, flicking Morgana’s nose.
Morgana yowled, but it was Goro who hissed louder.
“Mona, your claws,” Goro said between clenched teeth.
Yes, claws hadn’t been something ten year old Goro had considered while giving his own version of puppy-dog eyes at his mother. Or the random bursts of energy at three in the morning while he was trying to sleep, or the fact his pet would talk. Not just talk–but complain. At him. About him. Loudly.
“Oh, sorry,” Morgana said, retracting them from Goro’s now stinging skin, sounding not very sorry at all.
Ann didn’t even try to hide her giggle, so she also received a glare.
“You won’t find any curry at Dome town I’m afraid,” a low, smooth voice interjected.
All four of them whipped around. Standing in the junction where the two hallways met was a boy—his age, or perhaps a little younger than Goro himself if he had to guess—looking like he had just stepped out of a magazine. He leaned casually against the wall in an all black ensemble, watching them with interest.
The attractive boy titled his head of purposely-styled-to-look messy dark curls, allowing a few pieces that weren’t swept back and held in place by a shiny, black feather pin, to fall into his eyes. Goro followed the column of his throat down to a high collared black button down shirt, neatly pressed under a fitted vest of the same color. Goro tried to ignore just how well it accentuated his waist. Going lower, the slim, black dress pants that completed his look made his already long legs appear even longer. Somehow, Goro was able to catch his jaw before it hit the floor.
Morgana was not so successful.
“Woah,” his cat, who definitely should not have been peeking out from behind Goro’s shoulder, said, “who is that?”
Goro jostled his school bag and Morgana let out the tiniest yelp.
“Well, perhaps they offer it at one of the food stalls. I wouldn’t actually know…” Goro’s eyes flicked back up to the boy’s smirking face. His sparkling grey eyes locked with Goro’s.
Caught in the act.
Goro clenched his fists, keeping them by his sides, as the heat rose in his cheeks.
“Who’re you?” Ryuji asked, tactfully as ever, earning a pinch from Ann.
“You don’t know who he is?” she hissed, pinching him again.
“Ow, what the eff!”
“Who is he, Lady Ann?” Morgana chirped, albeit muffled, from the confines of Goro’s bag.
The boy’s plush, pink lips parted as he smirked, his gaze still on Goro. “Oh how rude of me.” He pushed himself off the wall and sauntered over to their misshapen circle.
“I’m Kurusu Akira, part-time Detective, full-time High School student. I appear on T.V. sometimes,” Kurusu said casually with a pleasant smile, as if that wasn’t a big deal at all. “I happened to overhear your conversation on my way to the briefing for tomorrow’s recording session and couldn’t help but chime in. I’m a bit of a curry connoisseur myself, so when I thought I had heard something about delicious curry…” he trailed off into silence, glancing at each of their faces.
“…I felt compelled. Though judging by your silence it seems, I’m mistaken,” Kurusu amended, tugging on an errant curl that had fallen out of its feather clip. “My apologies.”
“No, no, you heard right,” Goro finally spoke up after finding his voice. He willed it to remain steady, even though Morgana’s claws were embedded in his shoulder once again. The cat was practically vibrating on his back.
“Ah, wonderful,” Kurusu said, beaming. “This conversation would be incredibly awkward if I hadn’t.”
“Read the room, dude,” Ryuji muttered.
“In case you were wondering where to get the best curry, I know the best little cafe off the beaten path, I can assure you it is worth the trip–”
“We weren’t, but thank you,” Goro said, and Akira’s expression turned crestfallen.
“Wait, I want to know! Ask him! Ask him!” Morgana growled, kneading Goro through the bag’s fabric to get his attention.
Goro yanked sharply on the bag this time, and Morgana’s claws rapidly retracted out of him.
“Ah, shame,” Kurusu said, recovering from the rejection. “Well, if you change your mind, I’m sure we’ll run into each other tomorrow on set. We’re filming together after all.”
He threw a wink alongside the wave he gave at Goro as he walked backwards. “See you then,” he added cheekily, before turning himself in the appropriate direction to leave.
Not a moment later, Ryuji broke the silence. “What’s his deal?”
“Quiet! He can still hear us,” Goro whispered.
Ryuji ignored him. “Did you see his hair? What’s up with that?”
“You wouldn’t get it,” Ann sighed dreamily.
“He’s so cool,” Morgana breathed just as dreamily at Kurusu’s retreating figure, pupils practically dilating into stars.
“Not you too,” Goro groaned, as if he wasn’t also equally affected by the strange, irritatingly attractive boy. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m never going to hear the end of him, aren’t I?”
ii. during a chance encounter
Goro was keenly aware that he was arguing with his cat in broad daylight. Again. It had become a habit–one he stopped giving a shit about after a few weeks since it likely wasn’t going to stop. He had come to terms with the fact that passersby would probably think he was crazy because his goddamn cat wouldn’t shut the fuck up.
This argument was happening outside the subway station on Central street, over the asinine topic of sushi. Specifically over which type of roll was superior, and Goro–being the opinionated son of a bitch he was–absolutely was not going to back down from his cat and his slanderous opinions.
“You are, without a doubt, the worst cat–”
“That’s because I’m not a cat!”
“--the worst cat,” Goro reiterated just a little bit louder, “How is it possible for you to think tuna is superior to salmon?”
“It is!” Morgana hissed at him, his fur puffing up slightly. He paced back and forth along the ledge of the planter, his tail whipping the grass surrounding the large tree whose shade they were taking refuge under from the sun. “Fatty Tuna is the best! You're just a bull headed idiot who can’t admit when he’s wrong!”
Goro gaped at him. “I most certainly am not! How dare you insinuate–”
“Are you…yelling at your cat?” a smooth voice from behind Goro joined their dispute.
Goro jumped almost as hard as Morgana, but for an entirely different reason.
“Akira! He is!” Morgana exclaimed, forgetting his one job of pretending to be a regular cat. His eyes widened to the size of saucers once he realized his mistake. “I-I mean–meooow, mrreow!”
“You have got to stop doing that,” Goro grumbled, both to his cat and the infuriating surprise intruder.
He quickly ran his fingers through his hair in a slipshod attempt to brush it, regretting that he hadn’t taken the time to properly style it before he left. Running into Kurusu had definitely not been on his agenda this afternoon so of course the one time he didn’t…
“Doing what?” Kurusu asked innocently, but his eyes–oh his eyes–gleamed with mischief.
“You know what–” Goro glared at him, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, “–you are almost as bad as Morgana.”
“Hey! I’m standing right here!”
“Morgana?” Kurusu tilted his head. “Is that your cat’s name?”
“Unfortunately.”
Morgana, whose fur was now fully puffed making him look like he lost a fight with a dryer, let out a very loud, very aggressive hiss.
“Don’t be like that,” Kurusu chided, turning to Goro’s not cat and running a hand down Morgana’s back.
Goro’s jaw dropped. The traitor arched into Kurusu’s touch and fucking purred. Morgana didn’t let anyone pet him. (Except Ann). He had been trying to sneak pets since the first night Morgana stayed over and each time, the cat bit him.
“He’s just being a cruel fool, isn’t he? I bet you were winning the argument too, weren’t you? Before I so rudely interrupted you two,” Kurusu cooed, scratching Morgana under his chin. He side-eyed Goro and said, “What were you arguing about?”
“Sushi,” Goro gritted.
“Ah, debating with your wonderful cat over which roll is best, I presume?”
“You presume correctly.”
“And which rolls are up for consideration?”
“Why are you entertaining this idiotic farce?”
“Indulge me–I can be the judge, an impartial third party to decide the winner.”
The one thing Goro had learned in the short amount of time he had known Kurusu was that once Kurusu had an idea planted in that thick skull of his, there was nothing short of a cataclysmic disaster that would stop him from following it through.
So with a reluctant sigh, Goro said, “Fatty Tuna and Salmon Rolls.”
If Goro had blinked, he would have missed the way Kurusu’s smile turned wicked for the briefest of seconds.
“Fatty tuna, no contest,” Kurusu stated matter of factly.
“In your face, Crow!”
Morgana’s victory screech alarmed several people in their immediate vicinity.
“Shut up!” Goro snapped at his cat, momentarily forgetting that he also was supposed to be pretending his cat couldn't actually talk. “And you,” he turned on Kurusu, shoving him not so gently, “Don’t side with him, you’ll inflate his ego more than it already is.”
Kurusu’s lopsided smile grew and showed some of his teeth. “Well, maybe his ego deserves to be inflated since he obviously has the superior palate.”
Goro opened his mouth to retort but was cut off.
“I’d love to stick around and continue the debate, as I’m sure you have some exceptional reasoning for your sub par preference,” Kurusu said, scratching Morgana once under the chin before taking his hand away. Morgana almost fell off the ledge chasing it. “But I must be off. I’m meeting up with a colleague to review case files and she hates it when I’m late.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dare hold you up,” Goro said flatly, doing everything in his power to not cave to Kurusu’s blatant goading. “Perish the thought.”
Kurusu hummed and stepped closer. “Are you sure about that?” he whispered.
Never in his life had Goro blushed so fast.
“Wh–you–argh!”
Kurusu simply laughed and looked over his shoulder at Goro’s not-cat and said, “Bye Morgana! Until next time.”
“Man, he’s so cool,” Morgana said, once Kurusu had disappeared into the subway, “and has a superior taste in sushi compared to you.”
“Fuck. Off.”
iii. on a date
“Did you know I’m something of a barista myself?”
Goro flicked his gaze up to a smug Kurusu sitting across from him at the cafe Goro had taken him to, and arched his brow.
“He’s a barista too? That’s so cool!” Morgana piped up from within his school bag resting on the seat beside him. Goro pointedly ignored the comment.
“Believe it or not, I can brew a mean cup of coffee,” Kurusu said, smiling around the mug he had lifted to his lips.
“I’ll believe it when I taste it,” Goro replied, lifting his own and mimicking him. “That is, assuming you’ll let me.”
“Perhaps I will.” Fire danced in Kurusu’s eyes. “You’d love a taste, wouldn’t you?”
“Time and place,” Goro said, “I’ll be there.”
“I don’t doubt you will, the way you drop everything to see me.”
“I do not,” Goro protested indignantly. “Need I remind you that I invited you out today, and you immediately agreed.”
“That I did.”
Without breaking their heated eye contact, Kurusu took a sip and shrugged. “This one’s not bad by the way, but it does leave a burnt aftertaste on the tongue.”
Goro had never wanted to punch someone more in his life so badly until this moment. Actually, that was a lie, he had always wanted to punch his father and that desire was what had landed him in Tokyo in the first place, so he amended that train of thought. Never had he wanted to kick someone more in his life so badly until this moment.
So he did.
“Ow, what the fu–” Kurusu spat, recoiling from the coffee that had spilled over his hand from the kick’s impact.
Goro’s face lit up with glee as he dropped his chin into his hand. “Ah, detective, watch your language. What would your fans think?”
That innocuous statement resulted in the most violent game of footsie Tokyo had ever seen. It lasted twenty minutes with Goro going home as the winner along with accusations of playing dirty. It wasn’t Goro’s fault Kurusu squeaked and turned the most lovely shade of crimson when Goro knocked his knees apart, then (almost) trailed his foot up his thigh.
Red truly was Kurusu’s color.
“Eugh, you two are so gross,” Morgana complained later, leaning all his weight on Goro’s right shoulder as they walked away from the cafe after the Not Date.
“So you’re finally admitting Kurusu is gross?”
Morgana gasped. “Never! Even though he was making weird faces at you the whole time, I can forgive him. He looked way cooler than you did doing it.”
“Excuse me?!”
iv. at Leblanc
“Am I bothering you?” Kurusu asked quietly.
Goro looked aside at him. The detective was staring dejectedly at his untouched cup of coffee, his gloved hands folded neatly in front of it.
“No. What would make you think that?”
Kurusu smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Well, you’ve seen the news. I’m not the most popular guy around.”
“That’s because you talk shit on the Phantom Thieves on National Television.”
Now that smile did reach his eyes. “And that doesn’t scare you away?”
The smile Goro returned was all teeth. “Never.”
“I’m glad, I…I’ve come to value your friendship,” Kurusu confessed, a slight twinge of pink rising in his cheeks. “So, thank you–for putting up with me.”
For putting up with me.
That struck Goro on a deeper level than he wanted to admit.
“Don’t mention it,” Goro said softly.
After a moment, they fell into silence again at the cafe counter, and Kurusu’s brooding stare returned to his what had to now be cold coffee.
“Morgana,” Goro muttered under his breath, and lightly kicked his bag under his feet for good measure.
A disgruntled Morgana popped his head out and narrowed his eyes up at Goro. “What.”
Goro simply tilted his head towards Kurusu and idly took a sip of his coffee.
“Oh.”
His not-cat crept silently out the bag and placed a paw on Kurusu’s leg. The detective went rigid.
“You brought your cat to Leblanc?!” he whispered, eyeing Sakura where he stood off to the side as he filled out whatever crossword he was working on.
“More like he invited himself,” Goro whispered back.
The subtle chuckle from Kurusu shouldn’t have flipped Goro’s stomach the way it did. Nor should his heart have skipped a beat when he looked over to find that Kurusu had stealthily swiped Morgana off the floor and was now cradling him in his arms.
“I’ve always wanted a cat,” Kurusu said wistfully, rubbing Morgana’s belly.
“Is that your way of asking for mine?”
“No.” Kurusu laughed, melancholic and hollow. “Besides, what other excuse would I have to hang out with you?”
It was a rare sight to see—Kurusu putting down the over the top display of swagger and confidence, and letting the real him slip out. The lonely, cat whisperer teenager who just wanted someone to relate to.
In a rare display of his own, Goro answered, “You don’t need one.”
Kurusu looked up at him and for the first time since they met, Goro thought that the smile the detective offered was a genuine one. Morgana didn’t have to say it this time—the cat’s starry eyed expression spoke volumes—because Goro thought that Kurusu might have been kind of “cool” all on his own.
v. in the metaverse
“Allow me,” Akira said dramatically, thrusting a hand aside to stop Goro from taking point.
The audacity of this man.
Without waiting for a confirmation, Akira leapt forward. One of his sleek daggers sunk itself in the casino guard’s thigh as the detective flipped over it and grasped at its face.
“Show me your true form!”
The guard burst and reformed into a towering leopard wielding two swords, and Akira smiled wildly. He wasted no time in ripping off his own white mask and bellowing “Arsene!”
His persona roared to life, erupting from an inferno of blue flames, in a (begrudgingly) impressive display of black feathered wings and blade heeled boots. Goro was hypnotized by the sheer agility and grace Akira wielded in his strikes—it looked effortless. It had taken Goro over six months to perfect his prowess in the metaverse and this asshole appeared to be a natural.
Needless to say, Goro was fuming (yes that was the feeling, nothing else, nope). How dare Akira—on his first mission with the thieves—look this good? The black trench coat he was sporting fluttered and billowed with his every move, adding a very unnecessary dramatic flare to his performance. It was so over the top and so utterly Akira that Goro that he didn’t notice when his pulse started to race each time Akira looked back to make sure Goro was watching. Didn’t notice how his mouth started to mirror the smile Akira wore each time their eyes met. Or how when the shadow was decimated in an entirely frivolous finishing move, that Akira gravitated towards him with eyes alight with the thrill of battle—or maybe it was something else—waiting for praise.
At Goro’s right side, Morgana had been barely able to contain himself watching Akira’s destruction. When the shadow had fully disintegrated into the palace floor, the cat yelled—taking the words right out Goro’s mouth— “Looking cool, Joker!”
+1
“We can always say he took the guard’s gun and committed suicide.”
Goro’s world had come to a grinding halt after Futaba had played the recording. The day had passed him by in a haze, with him only being half present in his tasks. Everything seemed so fragile now, as if his rose tinted blindfold had been removed and he only just now found out he had been standing on fractured glass the whole time.
His bed creaked as he laid back it, staring blankly at the ceiling. Akira’s monotone voice was still echoing in his head, looping over and over.
“We can always say he took the guard’s gun and committed suicide.”
“We can always say he took the guard’s gun and committed suicide.”
“We can always say he took the guard’s gun and committed suicide.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. It didn’t even sound like his Aki—the train of thought derailed.
His Akira.
The sound that left Goro was ugly, a sinister heartless cackle. When had Akira ever been his? When had anything ever gone right in his life? He should have known better than to trust his heart—it never did anything but betray him in the end. Trash like him didn’t deserve good things.
The bed dipped by Goro’s side and he cracked an eye open to see a dejected Morgana perched there. Poor Morgana. Now, if there ever was a person to deserve good things, it would be him. Goro could handle the world fucking him over, could handle Akira breaking his heart, but what he wouldn’t stand for was what they did to his cat. Morgana’s hero turned out to be some pompous asshole in a cheap, flashy black coat, with a deft sleight of hand. No, no one fucked with his cat and would get away with it.
After all, it was his responsibility to take care of him.
Goro opened his arms in a silent offering and Morgana’s eyes bugged out.
“For real?”
Goro nodded.
Morgana slinked up the bed and nestled into the crook of Goro’s neck. Cautiously, Goro lowered his hand to rest on Morgana’s back. When the cat made no effort to bite him, he slowly ran his fingers in repetitive, soothing motion up and down his fur. Soft, weary purrs vibrated against his throat.
“I’m sorry Morgana,” Goro whispered, “I know you admired him.”
“I’m sorry too,” Morgana said, head bumping him. “He wasn’t really that special after all."
After a minute of companionable silence, Morgana spoke up again.
"I don’t say it enough, but…you’re actually pretty cool too, Crow.”