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Goro doesn't look right, doesn't feel right, he’s got a crick in his neck from not sleeping well the night before, and his hands are squeezing the package he'd taken very good care to wrap, so it’ll be ruined and it’ll prove—
“Dude,” comes Ann’s voice, exasperated. “Try not to look constipated, at least.”
His eye twitches where he's making eye contact with himself in the mirror in front of him. “Fucking—” He tosses the wrapped gift onto Ann’s bed, falls back onto it with a loud sigh and closed eyes. “You show me, then. How you'd do it.”
He feels the weight of the bed shift as Ann stands up. He cracks an eye open, watching her smooth down the front of her shirt before gingerly grabbing the— the item, the thing, gift, whatever, and holding it behind her back.
“Goro,” she says, eyes blinking prettily at him, “This is for you.”
The gift is pulled from behind her, presented to him where he stays sprawled, outstretched arms offering him something that definitely needs to be re-wrapped.
Ann holds the position for a moment longer before straightening up, placing the gift next to Goro’s briefcase at the foot of her bed. “Not hard, see?”
He lets out a long suffering sigh, the kind that earns him an eye roll he knows exists even if he’s not looking. Goro sits up, rubbing the side of his neck with an ungloved hand. “Thank you for your help, Ann.”
“Uh-huh.” She doesn't sound too impressed. “I hope you'll take it.”
His phone buzzes from his pants pocket, reminding him that it's time to head out. He stretches his arms above his head before reaching for his briefcase, tucking the oddly wrapped gift inside of it.
Ann trails behind him as he puts his gloves back on, his jacket, his shoes. Goro would rather face the world a thousand times more than the recipient of the gift he's meant to give.
“Hey,” Ann says softly, placing a reassuring hand on Goro’s shoulder when they're standing at the door. She gives it a squeeze. “Don't overthink it, okay? This’ll become normal. Promise.”
Normal. He wants to burst into hysterics. Having someone depend on him and mean it, well, that isn't exactly Goro’s view of normal.
“Okay,” he says, because he's getting kind of itchy about the whole thing. “I’ll text you.”
Ann gives his shoulder one last squeeze before Goro’s out the door and onto the train.
-
They're supposed to be doing something tonight that they haven't really done before.
“Like Secret Santa,” Akira says encouragingly the day it comes up, the two of them sitting by themselves in Leblanc after hours, “But it's just the two of us.”
“So it's not Secret Santa.” Goro points a spoonful of rice at him before continuing, “We’re just getting each other gifts.”
“I— maybe, yeah.” Akira’s laugh is abashed as he tugs at the ends of his hair, absentmindedly nervous. “Is that fine?”
Goro’s never been a very good gift giver but Akira’s trying to meet him somewhere halfway, he thinks. He shrugs. “I can try,” he says, because that's the best he can think of.
Part of him wants to demand that Akira ask more of him, wants Akira to try breaking him down just so he can prove he’d do a better job of it. The other part is, well. Planning to go gift shopping.
They're doing quite a few new things tonight, actually. First, Akira will be coming to Goro’s apartment and Goro’s promised himself to let him stay for more than ten minutes so Akira can then, second, stay the night.
They've slept together before, like— in the way where when Goro closes his eyes and Akira’s the last thing he sees and hears and feels before bed, he's also the first he experiences those things with in the morning. It’s nice, except for when he wakes up shaky and covered in sweat from his own nightmares, but Akira’s only ever incessantly tender with him. Annoying.
He knows Akira wouldn't care if Goro handed him his present with the wrapping wrinkled and torn from his anxious hands, probably won't tell him he’s re-wrapped the damn thing about four times now anyway.
Goro paces, and wills the doorbell to ring.
It does eventually, Akira standing on the other side of his door looking windswept and eager and— Goro wants to eat him alive, really.
He tables his desire, pulling Akira inside and making sure the door locks behind them.
“Hi,” Akira says as he toes off his shoes, lining them up neatly next to Goro’s own. “I brought us dinner.”
“Thank you,” Goro says, surprised. “You didn't have to.”
Akira walks over to Goro’s two seater dining table, setting down two bags: one that has their food, probably, the other being the bag Akira usually has with him anyway.
“Dinner?” Akira calls as he pads into Goro’s kitchen, opening his cabinets and reaching for a plate.
“Actually,” Goro starts, following him, “Can we do the- the gift thing first?”
Akira’s caught off guard, if the near slip of porcelain is any indication. “Wait. Seriously?”
“Yeah.” Goro nods. “Let’s, you know. Do that.”
Akira nods back at him, leaving the plates he'd already taken out for their meal on the counter. “Let me just grab your gift,” he says before scooting past him and back in the direction of his bag.
Goro tries not to be sick as he walks into his own room and picks up his gift from his dresser, walking back into the living room to find Akira waiting for him on the sofa.
Akira pats the spot next to him as Goro wills his breathing to keep steady.
“Okay,” Akira says, fidgeting. “So, how should we—”
“Here,” Goro declares, pushing the gift he has for him into Akira’s hands because he can't bear the weight of it anymore. “This is for you.”
Akira’s jaw drops a little, hands closing around the cream-wrapped box that's now, finally, out of Goro’s own.
This whole process has been a pain in his ass; he’d taken too long choosing his wrapping paper, couldn't decide on what store to get the actual thing from, and now, well.
The wonderment in Akira’s face as he tears past the wrapping paper and slowly lifts the box under it to reach his treasure… Goro would do it all over again for another chance at seeing this look on his face.
“Oh,” Akira breathes out, face dusted a light pink. He lifts the scarf from its box, holds it comically close to his face as he looks at it.
It's a long, black scarf embroidered with red running across either side of it. It's soft, and Goro knew what he would be gifting Akira from the moment he saw it.
“I love it.” Akira’s voice is wobbly as he lifts his glasses and wipes at his misty eyes. “I’m going to wear this, like, all the time.”
Goro nods, and rests his hand on Akira’s thigh. There's some sniffling that fills the space between them.
Akira takes a deep breath before he hands Goro his gift. “Your turn.”
It's a black box, wrapped with a gold ribbon at its center. He carefully undoes the ribbon, pushing it to the side as he lifts the box open.
Goro’s jaw, even as he tries to keep it shut, falls slightly open. A pair of pristine black gloves are there, waiting for him.
“They're leather,” Akira interjects when Goro’s been silent for a minute. “Your gloves were getting a little too...” He lifts his hand and wiggles his fingers. “You know?”
“Akira.” Goro’s voice comes out raspier than he expects. “I… Thank you. This is really kind of you.”
Akira nods eagerly, probably trying to encourage him to continue speaking. Goro’s focusing on his breathing again in an attempt to stay composed. His voice is strained as he asks, “What'd you bring for dinner?”
Akira doesn't respond immediately, smiling softly at Goro without saying anything. He scoots to Goro’s side until their thighs touch again, laying his head on his shoulder.
“Thanks for doing this with me.” Akira’s voice is quiet, intimate. “You're good at this.”
Goro’s hand trails across Akira’s, resting there. “I tried,” he says.
“You try,” Akira corrects him.
Goro doesn’t say anything else, resting his own head on top of Akira’s, breathing him in.