Work Text:
Akira didn‘t know why he sent that message in the first place. It was probably the fever rendering his poor brain useless. Or maybe he was just in desperate need of another human being to help him out in his predicament.
Not that he didn‘t appreciate Morgana‘s efforts to nurse him back to health, without his friends or Sojiro noticing, but purring and worried paw pats could only get you so far.
Nevertheless, Akira was very grateful to have his feline friend by his side.
His presence alone was a huge upgrade to the times he got sick in his parent’s house. They never seemed to notice, or even care if he fell ill. Which was the reason Akira was used to silently recover as best and as fast as he could on his own without bothering anyone.
He still held onto his phone, regretting the life decisions that led him to having sent that godforsaken message. It would probably be best if he just deleted it. Pretend it never existed in the first place. Yes, that was a good idea.
If it wasn‘t for the read receipt staring right back at him and the three little dots in the corner, indicating that Goro freaking Akechi was already typing his response.
(11:20) Akira: Hey, I know this is sudden, but would you happen to have time today? There is something important I need your help with.
(11:29) Akechi: This is rather sudden and I didn‘t expect to hear from you this soon. But I can make time if it is important.
Great, now he was stuck in this awkward situation and had interfered with Akechi’s day. All because he couldn‘t deal with this stupid cold on his own. And maybe, just maybe, asking the guy who was secretly planning to assassinate you for help wasn‘t one of Akira‘s better ideas.
(11:34) Akira: You’re the only person I’ve ever seen using cursive in text messages. It’s kinda cute. Like an old person.
(11:36) Akira: You know, it’s fine. You probably already have something planned for today. Just pretend you never got this massage.
Akechi was immediately typing again.
Shit. Why couldn’t he at least leave him a little dignity and pretend this conversation never happened.
(11:37) Akechi: I’ll be there in 30, something is clearly wrong.
(11:38) Akechi: And it’s neither cute, nor am I an old person!
(11:40) Akira: How can you tell by a simple massage? Your detective skills that good, huh?
(11:41) Akira: And it is totally cute! ;3
(11:43) Akechi: Not only did you write “massage“ instead of “message“ twice, your flirting is also far more insufferable than usual. I‘m coming over!
(11:45) Akira: So bossy.
(11:46 )Akira: Wait, you noticed I was flirting those other times!? :O
12:04) Akira: Akechi?
If Akira hadn’t felt sick before this, now he was also humiliated out of his mind to top it all off.
Maybe he would be lucky enough for Sojiro to close the café early today, so Akechi couldn‘t get in and witness the mess Akira had been since waking up this morning. Or maybe the fever would take him out before the increasing level of humiliation got a chance to.
“Who were you texting? You‘re supposed to be asleep!“ Morgana complained, pressing a paw against his cheek.
"Ouch! Could you at least retract your claws.“
“S-sorry!“ Akira immediately mourned the absence of Morgana‘s paw. It was a nice and cool contrast against his feverish skin.
Once he sat down on his lap, the not-cat continued, “Don‘t try to avoid the question. Who were you texting?“
Akira couldn‘t squirm his stupid ass out of this one.
“Akechi.“ He answered simply.
“And why would you text Akechi?“
“To ask him if he could help me out?“ Akira murmured, hoping Morgana wouldn‘t catch any of it.
“YOU WHAT!?“
Damn it. Well, here came the scolding.
“Please tell me you didn‘t just ask the person we know is plotting to kill you to help you while you’re sick!?“
Akira gave his most charming smile or attempted to because going off Morgana‘s expression, he was more likely trying to perform some sort of exotic face gymnastics.
“Akiraaa! I know you still see him as a friend but this is stupid!“
“Be nice to me, I‘m sick and incapable of making rational decisions!“ Maybe playing the sympathy card would spare him hours of Morgana‘s concerned rambling. So he dragged his blanket all the way over his mouth and put on the most pathetic puppy eyes he could muster in his condition.
Apparently, it worked, because his friend’s small cat face suddenly looked at him with pity in his eyes rather than anger or concern for his mental state.
“Besides, you‘re here and Boss is downstairs. He wouldn‘t attempt anything.“
Morgana didn't seem to be convinced but it was enough for him to drop the subject.
For now.
Aside from the pain in his throat, his stuffy nose, and the probably way too high fever, Akira suddenly felt extremely tired. It only took seconds after he made himself comfortable till he was fast asleep once more.
Akira was startled awake by loud footsteps climbing up the stairs to the attic. At first, he expected Sojiro and tried to look as un-sick as he could manage, until he spotted the crown of honey-brown hair.
“This better be something very important, Kurusu! I‘ve canceled an interview to come here!“, he heard the familiar voice and almost wants to purr at the sound.
Akira loved listening to Akechi talk. He was so good at it, words always flowing so naturally. The exact opposite of him.
While Akechi was able to use conversations to his advantage, twisting them and leading them exactly where he wanted, Akira always struggled to say what was on his mind.
Probably a side effect of having parents that prefer you when you‘re seen and not heard, playing the part of the perfect son in a perfect little fucked up family.
Akechi‘s eyes went wide as he properly entered Akira‘s makeshift living space and his gaze wandered over the horrendous amount of used tissues, lying around like it was the newest interior design trend.
“Hey.“ is all Akira could say before a coughing fit took over his entire body, shaking him until everything hurt.
Akechi only stood there, holding onto his case with gloved hands, blinking and trying to process the chaos before him.
“Let me try to assess the situation here,“ he finally says, sounding more than slightly annoyed. Fuck it, Akira might actually start purring. He could always blame it on the fever.
“You called me over because you‘re sick?“
“Good deduction skills there, detective,“ he tried putting on his most charming Joker voice but his throat was so sore, it came out sounding like a dying sheep.
Morgana was sitting up straight at the edge of the bed, not letting his eyes off Akechi during their exchange.
“You do remember our last encounter, or did that conveniently slip your fever infested mind?“, Akechi said, underlining his annoyance with a gracefully enacted facepalm.
He was probably talking about their fight in Mementos, followed by his confession of undying hatred for Akira.
How could he ever forget that?
Ever since Akira hadn't been able to think of anything else. It had stung to hear Akechi say that he hated him to his face, and at the same time, he appreciated the honesty. He had finally managed to peek behind that perfectly crafted plastic mask the detective prince always wore. And Akira had been the one who put those cracks there.
In his opinion, that was something to be proud of.
“No, I didn‘t forget. I just … didn‘t know who else to ask,“ Akira admitted, hoping the fever would hide the blush that was starting to creep onto his face.
“You have a bunch of friends that would jump at the chance to take care of their precious leader and nurse him back to health, why not ask them?“
“I can‘t.“
“And why is that?“ Akechi put one hand on his hip. Now he was starting to play dirty.
Morgana‘s ears perked up at the question. Akira hadn‘t told him why he refused to message any of his friends or at least ask Sojiro for help. How was he supposed to explain something he didn’t fully understand the reason for?
“I don‘t…,“ he stuttered shyly.
“You don‘t what, Kurusu?“, Akechi was getting even more agitated as Akira didn‘t immediately finish his sentence.
“I don‘t want them to see me like this.“ Akira finally admitted quietly, tightening the grip on his blanket, looking at the floor in front of Akechi’s feet.
He could only make out the side of Morgana‘s face but he didn‘t have to see more to know that he was giving him that pitying stare again.
“Why?“, Akechi asked simply, no hint of emotion betraying his neutral demeanor.
If he wasn‘t fighting whatever cold or flu had taken over his immune system right now, Akira was sure he would have been able to find an excuse that didn‘t sound as pathetic as the truth did.
But in his current state, he only had one option and so he answered: “I‘m supposed to be their leader. I don‘t want them to see me being weak.“
“Akira. A cold doesn’t make you weak!“, Morgana finally joined the conversation. “Even if you‘re our leader, you‘re allowed to get sick! It’s not like you can do anything about it.“
“I hate to admit it but I agree with your cat for once,“ Akechi said dryly.
“I‘M NOT A CAT!“
Akechi ignored him and turned his attention back toward Akira. “Aren‘t I technically one of your teammates as well, how come you don‘t mind me seeing you in your sickly state?“
“I‘m really not in the mood for an interrogation right now,“ Akira sighed.
“Fine, if my presence is that much of a nuisance to you, I might as well leave. I‘ll probably make it in time for the interview after all.“
Akechi had already turned on his heels but Akira didn‘t want him to leave again now that he was already here.
He had jumped over his own shadow when he wrote that text message, he could do it again and say what was on his mind for once.
“I don‘t mind it because you‘re special,“ he admitted quietly.
Akechi stopped mid-motion, seemingly letting the words sink in. Akira couldn't see his face but he really wished he could.
All he got was a slight turn of his head and a heavy sigh before Akechi made his way down the stairs and left.
He might as well had been slapped in the face.
This felt so much worse than when Akechi had told him how much he hated and envied him.
“Jeez, what was that?“, Morgana complained angrily.
All Akira could do was stare at the spot Akechi had occupied just a moment ago and suddenly an image of his mother slamming his bedroom door shut played in the back of his mind.
Why had he expected anything else.
“You can still ask the others! At least ask Boss for help“, Morgana snapped him out of his thoughts.
“It‘s fine. I‘ll deal with this the way I always have.“
“Akira. The others really wouldn‘t mind. You don‘t have to worry about being the leader and all that.“
The familiar mask slipped onto his face with ease and Akira gave Morgana a reassuring smile, pet him on the head, and told him not to worry.
Sometimes it was terrifying how similar he and Akechi actually were.
The second time he heard footsteps on the stairs, Akira was sure it had to be Sojiro. As the steps got louder, he turned around so his back was facing the stairs and pretended to be asleep.
He continued to listen to the mysterious visitor, who seemed to be heading towards the couch, where something hit the floor with a loud thud.
Curiosity killed the cat and Akira decided to take a look at who it was and what had been making those noises.
Saying that he was surprised would be the understatement of the century.
“You came back?“, he sniffled as his nose was suddenly trying to run a marathon.
Akechi stood in the middle of the room with his back towards Akira, two giant bags on either side of him, casually taking off his blazer before neatly folding it and laying it down next to his briefcase on the couch.
“You thought I‘d leave you like this?“, the detective asked annoyed as he rolled up his shirt sleeves and slightly loosened his tie.
He was also wearing a medical mask, which looked way cuter than it had any right to be.
“How can you blame us for thinking that? You left without a word! And what’s with the mask?“, Morgana chimed in.
Apparently he had been rudely woken up from his nap and as he stretched his body, Akira fought the irresistible urge to say “ooohhh, big stretch!” in a high-pitched tone.
“Leaving someone who’s sick when they’ve asked you for help is a level of cruelty that is beyond me. And I’m not risking catching that cold. That interview today isn’t my only commitment this week.”
Akira was too stunned to speak.
“Now let's see what we’ve got here,” Akechi rummaged through the first of his bags and pulled out a box that he threw in Akira’s direction.
It landed on the bed in front of him and turned out to be a pack of tissues with little daisy patterns on it.
“What? Got a problem with my design choice?”, Akechi barked. “I figured you needed more, seeing how many of these things are lying around. Now blow that stupid nose of yours! I’m not going to clean up all that snot.”
Akira did as told. He hadn’t even noticed the snot that was already starting to drip from his nose.
Once he was done, he felt something cold being slapped against his forehead, the cool feeling immediately soothing him.
“Hey! It wouldn’t hurt to be a little more gentle!”, Morgana hissed at Akechi.
“If he wanted to be pampered, he shouldn’t have asked me for help.” The detective directed his attention back towards Akira. “This should help with the fever. You’ve also been coughing earlier, so I got you some medicine for that as well.”
A little bottle is pressed into his hand before Akira can say anything and he looks at it as if he’d never seen medicine before. Takemi would be so disappointed.
“I grabbed a few more things. Here’s an ointment for your nose, it looked pretty sore from blowing it so many times. I also got honey and fresh ginger roots to make you some tea later.” As he mentioned it, he walked back to the other bag and pulled out a few pillows and to Akira’s surprise, another blanket.
“You looked like you were freezing. No wonder in this rundown dirty attic.”
Akechi walked back to the bed, indicating for Akira to sit up so he could place the new pillows behind him, and wrapped him in the new blanket.
It was nice and warm and so unbelievably fluffy.
“It’s a heated blanket, just throw it on the ground if you get too hot.”
Akira only blinked at Akechi, words still failing him but his eyes started to feel suspiciously watery and he couldn't help the tears that silently rolled down his cheek.
His little slip-up earned him a surprised look from Akechi, who hadn’t anticipated such a strong reaction.
“What? Did I get something wrong? Do you need me to get something else?”, he asked nervously, avoiding Akira’s eyes, a little blush appearing on the part of his cheeks Akira was still able to see above the mask.
“N-no!”, he sniffled in response. “All this… it’s … You got all those things for me?”
Recognition dawned in the detective's eyes and the blush only intensified.
“Don’t make a big deal out of it. I don’t do things haphazardly and I wanted to be prepared for everything. That’s all.”
This was more than Akira could have ever asked for. Akechi had noticed so many little things during the short time he had spent here earlier and put so much thought into helping him.
How was he not supposed to cry?
“Thank you!”, is all Akira can say as he rubbed at his eyes.
Akechi awkwardly coughed into his palm before composing himself again. “Actually, you should probably grab some fresh clothes and get changed before you make yourself too comfortable. You’re sweating!
“I’ll go downstairs and make you some tea in the meantime.”
With that, the detective hurried down the stairs, turning back around halfway to grab the ginger and the honey he left behind, and disappeared again.
Akira had a warm smile on his face and buried his nose into the soft material of his new blanket.
“I did not expect that,” Morgana admitted, pawing at a corner of the blanket himself. He seemed to be pleased, as a little purr escaped him that he is immediately embarrassed about.
“Me neither,” Akira agreed with a soft giggle.
“He seems different, did you two have a fight or something?”, Morgana asked curiously.
Akira took a moment to consider his answer, replaying the last encounter with Akechi in his mind.
“Something like that, I guess. I don’t know, it’s - complicated.”
The not-cat jumped off the bed, giving Akira a meaningful look prompting him to do the same. “Well, he’s right. You really should get a change of clothes. They’re all damp.”
So, Akira untangled himself from his cozy nest of pillows and blankets and put his feet on the ground one at a time. As he stood up, he realized too late that gravity seemed to be a little funky today, causing him to fall right onto his face with a loud crash.
“Did you hurt yourself?”, Akechi shouted as he rushed up the stairs, finding the sad little pile on the ground that used to be the infamous and supposedly gracious leader of the Phantom Thieves.
“Only my ego,” Akira answered with his face smushed on the ground.
A few awkward seconds passed, in which Akira tried to find his balance but to no avail. His legs were too shaky to find the strength to stand up on his own and he flopped right back on the ground.
“Please don’t tell me you need help changing clothes, too,” Akechi almost begged as he already attempted to help Akira up.
“Could you tell the building to stop spinning?”
“Jesus fucking christ.”
And so, Akira’s ego took yet another hit while Akechi helped him back onto his bed and carefully pulled his shirt over his head.
“Don’t you dare say a single word, Kurusu or the cat is helping you with this!”, he barked, the blush having spread all over his face, painting him red as a tomato.
He tried his best to hold in the stupid comment forming on his tongue but in the end, Akira’s need to crack a stupid joke won. His codename wasn't Joker for nothing after all.
“I’ve always pictured a different scenario for you taking off my clothes.”
“That’s it, I‘m out of here!”, Akechi threw the used shirt in Akira’s face and angrily stomped down the stairs.
He was on his own again and Morgana threw him a judgy look that felt very odd on the face of a cat.
Akira was very pleased with himself.
He sluggishly took off his pants while Morgana got him something clean to wear from the box he’d been using as a closet ever since he got to Tokyo.
Once he’d changed, he made himself comfortable on his bed again, wrapping the new blanket around his head and upper body, absorbing all the warmth he could with his back being nicely supported by the new pillows.
From what Akira could tell, those couldn‘t have been cheap. They felt very fluffy and a whole lot more comfortable than his single pillow against the stone wall.
It didn’t take too long before Akechi returned, a cup of hot tea and a bowl of something steaming in hand.
“Sakura-san asked me to bring you this,” he said as he handed Akira the bowl.
It turned out to be rice porridge that smelled so good that Akira‘s stomach suddenly remembered that he hadn‘t eaten all day and promptly growled with the strength of a thousand lions.
“You told him that I‘m sick?”, he asked nervously. Just the thought of Sojiro knowing about Akira being sick made him feel ten times worse.
“I did not tell him anything. I know you don’t want anyone to know but have you considered that he might hear you coughing your lungs out from downstairs? The walls of this place are paper thin and it’s not like you have a door,” Akechi explained.
That made Akira feel like the dumbest person on the planet and his stupid stomach giving another angry growl didn’t help either.
Of course, Sojiro would hear him and know that something was up. He didn’t even manage to go downstairs for his usual cup of morning coffee and the plate of curry that his caretaker always prepared for him.
“Guess I’m not as good at hiding this as I thought.” He looked down into his bowl, a rush of guilt overtaking him.
Akechi didn’t say anything. He just stood next to him, studying Akira’s expression.
When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he grabbed the chair standing next to the bed and placed it so he was able to sit right next to Akira.
“Why is it that you think you being sick is something worthy of hiding?”, the detective asked, his gaze boring into Akira’s eyes.
It was quite unfair of Akechi to use his pretty eyes on him, there was no way he could resist now. Especially when the rest of his pretty face was hidden behind the mask, making his gaze that much more striking.
“I don’t want to be a burden. Especially for Sojiro, he did so much already by taking in someone like me,” he reluctantly answered.
He didn’t understand why but Akira was suddenly overrun with the urge to tell Akechi more.
More about his experiences growing up in that fake family of his putting up appearances in order to show everyone else how perfect they were.
It was a feeling he had never experienced before, not with any of his other friends even though he loved them dearly and trusted them with his life during battles.
“When I was a kid, my parents really hated it when I got sick,” he started.
“They did take care of me when I was still young but from what I remember they always complained about what an inconvenience it was and how much time they were wasting on me.
“The older I got, the less they would pretend to care. My first year in preschool, I caught a pretty nasty flu and when I told my mum I wasn’t feeling well, she didn’t even listen and sent me to school anyway. She just told me to stop being difficult and behave. Sat there all day with a fever, coughing like crazy, and feeling miserable until a teacher sent me to the nurse’s office.
“The nurse called my mother to come get me and bring me to a doctor since my fever was pretty high. Once she picked me up and we were home, she scolded me for faking everything to get out of class, slammed the door in my face and immediately went back to work.
“That was the last time I told anyone that I was feeling unwell.”
Akira didn’t know why it felt so easy to talk about all of this with Akechi. Usually, no matter how badly he wanted to talk about himself, the words just wouldn't come. Like there was a barrier inside his head causing his throat to close up the moment he wanted to speak and made sure no sound was able to escape him.
But with Akechi, it’s like he was finally able to breathe.
He suddenly felt like crying again.
Akechi didn’t say anything for a while, only looking at him with an unusual expression on his face.
If Akira didn't know any better he might have believed that it was sympathy.
Morgana who had been listening attentively also didn’t say anything but got closer and laid down on Akira’s lap, starting to purr softly.
It felt so much more comforting than any words would have been able to, so he gave his feline friend a little thankful scratch behind the ears and Morgana let him.
“You’re really good at this, you know,” Akira broke the awkward silence that had formed in the room.
“At what? Listening or getting you to actually talk?”, Akechi scoffed, pulling down his mask and revealing a cute little smirk on his face.
Akira wanted to kiss it so badly, but managed to hold himself back. “No! You’re really good at taking care of people.”
That earned him an unexpected laugh. A genuine one without any hint of plastic edges to it and Akira loved the sound of it.
“That’s a first,” the detective finally said.
“No one ever told you you got a pretty good shot as a nurse if the whole detective thing doesn’t work out?”, Akira said jokingly but with enough honesty in his hoarse voice.
“No one ever had any reason to, because I’ve never taken care of anyone.”
“But you stayed to take care of me. Why?”
He didn’t think he would get a response but was once again surprised when Akechi whispered. “I guess it’s because you’re special.”
And Akira wasn’t the only one surprised. Judging by the look on his face, Akechi was either internally panicking or had just remembered that he left his stove on.
He tried to cover up his embarrassment with another polite cough into his palm as he suddenly looked very interested in the drywall behind Akira’s head.
The smile that grew on Akira’s face felt so warm that he didn’t give a single fuck about how dorky he must be looking.
This was the same Akechi that had told him how much he hated him only a few days ago. The same person that was planning to kill him very soon, but right now Akira couldn’t find it in him to care about any of that.
Having gathered his composure, Akechi shoved the cup of tea he was still holding into Akira’s face. “Here, drink this! And blow your nose, you’re dripping snot again!”
Akira did as told and blew his nose before he took the cup from the detective’s hands, brushing against the leather of his gloves.
“How many pairs of those do you own? Do they respawn on your hands when you remove them?”, he can’t help but ask.
“I fail to see how that is any of your business,” Akechi barked back.
“Well, I’ve still got the one you gave me last time. Sorry for wondering why you’ve got a full pair again.”
“Just shut up and drink your tea. And eat the porridge Sakura-san prepared for you!”
He took a sip of the warm tea and the honey felt like heaven for his sore throat. It added the perfect amount of sweetness to the sharp flavor of the ginger.
Akechi watched over him while he ate the bowl of porridge. It tasted just as good as it smelt and Akira made a mental note to apologize to Boss and thank him for the food later.
It didn‘t take too long before Akechi suddenly started to talk. “My mother was really good at taking care of me when I was sick.” His expression went soft the moment he mentioned his mother.
“I never needed to tell her that I was sick, she just seemed to know even before I did. She would build me little pillow forts, wrap me up in a blanket and call me her precious little sushi roll.
“We couldn’t really afford a lot of medicine back then, but she would go out of her way to make me soup or porridge. And fresh ginger tea with a bunch of honey because I would always complain about the taste.” A smile was growing on Akechi’s face and Akira was mesmerized. He had never seen his rival being this vulnerable and he couldn’t help but think that he’d never looked more beautiful.
He had fallen hard and the inevitable impact would be so much worse for it.
“When she d-” Akechi swallowed.
“When she wasn’t around anymore and I got tossed around in the foster homes and orphanages, I got used to taking care of myself. It was considered a weakness among the other kids to get sick. They would use every chance they got to steal your things and being sick made it a whole lot easier to do so.”
“One time when I was laying in bed with a nasty cold, a kid stole my only nice pair of shoes. It was a pair my mother had given to me for my last birthday we got to spend together. After that I swore I’d never let anyone see me being weak again.”
“I’m sorry you had to deal with that growing up,” Akira said when Akechi seemed to be done telling his story.
“Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault.”
Right at that moment, Akechi looked like a little kid fighting back the crushing feeling of loneliness and it broke Akira’s heart. He wanted to hug him and tell him that he wasn‘t alone anymore and if he let him, Akira would always be there.
“Your mum sounds like a really amazing person,” Akira decided to say instead.
“She was.” It is then that Akechi’s smile returned.
It only lasts for a short moment though and soon, the plastic mask slipped back onto his face before Akechi pulled the mask back over his nose.
The little world they had created for themselves started to crumble around them as reality sets in again and makes Akira’s entire body shiver.
Or maybe it was the fever, he wasn’t sure.
Somewhere along the way, Morgana had fallen asleep, his breath evening out and his body still a comforting warm presence on Akira’s legs.
Once Akira was finished with the food, Akechi took the bowl from him and brought it downstairs along with the empty cup of tea, telling Akira to take the medicine and finally get some much-needed rest.
When he returned, Akira’d already laid down, his eyes closed and his nose snuggled into the heated blanket.
Akechi probably assumed he was asleep and Akira didn’t try to let him know otherwise.
So he only listened to his rival packing his things, putting on his jacket, and making his way to the stairs in order to leave.
However, instead of leaving, he returned to the side of the bed and knelt down next to Akira.
Suddenly he felt a hand softly brushing a damp strand of hair behind his ears and heard a low whisper.
“How am I supposed to go through with it? With all of this.”
And just like that, Akechi was gone.
Akira is left in his bed with the phantom sensation of a hand brushing against his forehead. His face grew even hotter than it had been before.
A few minutes later, his phone vibrated, letting him know that he got a new text message.
(15:45) Akechi: I’ll be back tomorrow. Make sure to switch out the cooling pads and keep taking the medicine.
Once he recovered from this cold, he would be back in a world of lies and secrets and pretending.
And for the first time in his life, Akira wished for a cold to last as long as possible.