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It started, like most things between them, as a game – a competition.
Gay chicken, Futaba had called it. Absolutely stupidly moronic and just admit your feelings already oh my God, is what everyone else had said.
And okay, yes, maybe it did go a little too far. Months – years – of pining turned into a game to see who would break first. It started with flirting, then gentle touches, hands brushing against each other as they walked together. They danced around it, slowly giving way to what could almost be dating. Akira pulling Goro into his lap or carelessly tossing an arm around him when they sat next to each other. Goro willingly leaning into Akira’s touch, pressing gentle kisses to his cheek as a greeting, watching Akira fluster with a smirk.
Waiting to see who’ll break first. I like you. Please date me.
But neither of them do, and then suddenly it’s drunk almost hook ups, never officially saying yes but the wandering hands, the lips pressed firmly each other every other week say otherwise. And of course, the jealousy grows. The desire to just make Goro his without being the one to do it.
Akira knows he’s winning a losing battle the night it all happens. It’s a new year’s ever party and Goro, who’s been touch adverse to anyone that isn’t Akira, spends the night letting an older man flirt with him. He puts on that stupid polite, plastic smile and lets the man put a hand on his thigh.
It’s then that Akira loses it. He grabs Goro and somehow they end up back at Akira’s, curled up together in Akira’s bed, Akira pressing gentle kisses against Goro’s neck.
“No more games,” Akira had said before pressing his lips against Goro’s. Then, when they’d pulled apart, “We can’t keep doing this anymore.”
Months – years – of pining, of playing hard to catch. The flirting, the soft touches, the jealousy. The desire to wrap his arms around Goro during every movie night, the way Goro would casually lean into Akira’s touch, the wandering hands and the late night drunken almost hook ups.
We’re ending this now, Goro. I want this. I want you. And if you don’t want this, I need you to tell me. If you don’t want me, you’re free to leave. Please just – just tell me, and I’ll leave you alone. I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want. I promise. But this is your last chance.
Goro left. Akira kept his promise.
And so it goes.
Almost a year later, and the jealousy hasn’t really subsided – at least on Goro’s part. He isn’t subtle about it at all – isn’t subtle about the way he hates when Akira is next to a pretty girl, how he hates when Akira comes back the morning after a party in the same clothes he wore last night, all mussed up, dishevelled and unkempt. He isn’t subtle about how he tries to co-opt Akira’s time regardless of whether Akira is dating or not.
But Akira’s just doing what Goro asked of him.
He started dating Hifumi Togo soon after – he’d always liked her, and she’d already got along with Yusuke well enough since they’d gone to school together. Fitting her into his friend group was easy. They went on dates, they played shoji, they did everything Akira thought he’d have done with a certain teenage detective. He liked hanging out with her, and he liked fucking even more her. Life was good.
He stayed friends with Goro, obviously, because Goro was a person he could never be separated from. There were less touches, less flirty banter. Akira was always a touchy person, but now Goro was keeping his distance. He would still swing by Leblanc for a cup of coffee and game of chess, haughtily remarking that it was much superior than shoji, before one day abruptly stopping, never to return on his own accord.
Goro also didn’t seem to really like Hifumi – but then, was that really a surprise?
They break up a few months later. It was inevitable, honestly, and Akira saw it coming, but it was Hifumi who’d pulled the trigger. They’d begun to grow apart, and Hifumi thought Akira seemed to be elsewhere half the time. There were no hard feelings, and now Akira got to fuck other people.
He’d always liked sex – knew it the moment he lost his virginity to his first girlfriend back home. But between his arrest, moving to Tokyo, Phantom Thieving, then moving back to Inaba, he hadn’t really been active. And then he’d slept around when he moved to Tokyo for university, and then Goro had come back, and he hadn’t been interested in strangers at all.
His friends liked to joke about him being a slut, a badge he wore with honour despite Goro’s clear, quiet seething. But to Akira’s surprise, he’d never said anything – at least to Akira’s face. At this point, Goro had finally seemed to get along with the rest of the Thieves – regular outings with Ann, study sessions with Makoto, featherman marathons with Futaba, and miraculously enough, early morning runs together with Ryuji. It was through these outings that Akira got to know how Goro really felt, Goro bitching about Akira’s “lack of standards” and “willing to fuck anything with two legs” to the rest of the thieves who’d relate it back to Akira.
So, yeah, what can he do? Goro made his choice. Akira’s just respecting it.
-
The party is in full swing, guests drunk enough that they’re starting to trip over Akira’s stupid cape. It’s a costume party at Haru’s. Ann, who’d recently rekindled her love of Sailor Moon, had gone dressed up as her, asking Akira to accompany her as Tuxedo Mask.
Akira had agreed, much to his friends’ amusement. “What is it with you and capes?” Fubata had asked, and then, “I believe Tuxedo Mask also wore a white mask reminiscent of your own, Joker. What a wonderful aesthetic.” From Yusuke.
He couldn’t do backflips, but he still felt hella cool.
Akira wanders around – he’s not particularly looking for someone to go home with, though it wouldn’t hurt. His last couple hookups have all been with Mishima, which he’s not proud to admit to, but Mishimi always answers his 4am texts so it’s not his fault.
He aimless walks through the house, eventually bumping into no one other than Hifumi Togo. She’s as beautiful as always, hair pulled back into a long ponytail.
“Oh, Akira!” she says with soft smile. “Long-time no see.” Akira’s always loved seeing her smile, but then again, he’s always been a bit of a people pleaser.
Akira gives an easy grin back. “You look good.” He says, as if there was ever a time she wouldn’t.
“Thanks.” Hifumi says. “And you are?”
“Tuxedo Mask,” Akira replies. “Futaba took my mask and hat, though.” She’d been yelling something completely incoherent, already drunk, and Akira had just let it happen. He assumed she’d want to dress up Morgana or something, but it’s not like he could wear the cape. He was left wearing only the tux, carrying a white rose in his pocket.
“You know, I always did have a crush on Tuxedo Mask. I would love to see you completely dressed up.”
“Let’s go find Futaba, then. I’ll put on the rest of my costume for you.”
-
Goro’s trying to put on a brave face. He’s practiced this in his head, talked it over with Ann, been yelled at by Futaba, and lectured by the goddamn cat. He can do this.
This party is a nightmare – it’s not his scene, not even close, especially since it’s hosted by Haru’s and he’s not still scared of her, but he knows Akira likes to drink, and he likes to be with Akira. It used to be passable, coming here arm in arm with Akira, watching as women threw themselves as him, knowing Akira’s eyes were always on him and him alone.
But, well. Goro is a dumbass and here they are.
Ann had convinced him of this plan – probably one of stupidest plans he could have thought of, one so asinine he doesn’t know why he agreed. But here he is. Because while Ann is dressed as Sailor Moon in a cute blue sailor outfit with red and yellow accessories, blonde hair pulled into her signature pigtails, Goro is also dressed as Sailor Moon in a decidedly less cute costume. His ass is completely out, his top is midriff baring and see through, and he feels like he’s going to fall over in these stupid heels. But goddamn is Akira going to look at him.
He gets a thumb up from Ann before he’s off to find Akira.
And find him he does, immediately, cozied up to his fucking ex-girlfriend. Akira looks up at him, eyes wide, like he’s been caught doing something he should’ve have been. Goro looks between the two, lips pulled into a straight line, brows furrowing. “I see you’ve reacquainted with Togo-san.” He says before taking off.
For fuck’s sake.
-
Goro is drunk. Hammered. Wasted. Absolutely intoxicated and it’s all Akira’s fault.
After that night, Akira had immediately started dating Togo, like Goro didn’t even matter. Goro had the sense to regret leaving the morning after, but if anything, he’d clearly made the right choice. If Akira could get over him that quick, he clearly meant nothing. Their relationship meant nothing. Akira was probably just looking for a warm place to stick his dick in after so long, and the thrill of the chase of being able to bed the detective prince Goro Akechi? Yeah, he knew what Akira was up to.
But then they broke up, and the floodgates opened because God, did Goro want. Wanted exactly what Togo had with Akira – he’d walked into Leblanc after evenings when Akira had forgotten to close up, which he’d typically do for nights they’d hang out, but Akira must have forgotten because this time he walked in to moaning, and oh fuck was it hot and oh god did he want to be the one making Akira make those noises.
He ran out as soon as he could and absolutely did not take a cold shower thinking about his bad decisions.
But seeing Akira with Togo – fuck, they’re getting back together again. They’re getting back together. And Goro can’t handle that – so he grabs Ann, and they drink. And then he drinks more and more and more and now here he is.
The party has begun to die down. The last few guest are – well, the Phantom Thieves, sans Akira who’s probably left with Hifumi Togo ready to fuck her and probably accidentally impregnate her and ruin his own life like the idiot he is.
-
Gore must have passed out, because he wakes to voices above him. “I’ll take him home,” says one, and Goro slowly opens his eyes to see a mystery man in a top hat and white mask, wearing a stupid suit at a costume party.
There’s some weird velvety blanket wrapped around Goro.
“You sure?” asks Ann, and White Mask nods. “You know him – he’ll be mad when he wakes up and realises he didn’t take off his makeup and do his skincare routine.”
“Okay, but be safe.”
“What exactly do you think of me?”
Goro has NO idea who White Mask is or why Ann thinks it’s appropriate he goes to Goro’s house, but White Masks keeps an arm around Goro and helps him into the taxi. Goro slumps against him.
The stranger smells amazing, woodsy and spicy – a bit of cardamom and amber with an underlayer of coffee. He kind of smells like Akira if Goro was being honest. Goro shoves his face into the stranger’s neck and takes a long sniff. “You smell good.”
White Mask laughs, a sound so familiar it brings joy to Goro. “Tom Ford’s Noir.” White Mask replies. “A friend gave it to me.” Oh, that’s the kind Akira uses. Actually, Goro got it for him. Goro even has his own bottle, because he likes wearing it, and not because he sometimes always sprays his bed with it because he misses how it smelt of Akira after and during and before their impromptu sleepovers.
He definitely doesn’t say this out loud, but the thought of Akira -
“On’t ‘anna go home” he slurs. “”Anna see Kira.”
White Mask shifts. “Oh?”
“Wanna see Kira. ‘Anna be the one in ‘is bed.” Not that fucking Togo bitch who plays Shogi as if Chess isn’t superior. Probably why Akira’s been losing all their games as of late.
White Mask, for some fucking reason, holds him tighter.
When they get to Goro’s apartment, White Mask unlocks his door for him. Goro doesn’t recall giving him his key, but maybe Ann did. He has two spares – owned by Akira and Ann, although Goro wouldn’t be surprised if somehow Futaba or even the rest of the thieves managed to make themselves a copy.
White Masks takes his shoes off, even helps Goro with his own, carefully placing them on the shoerack exactly how he likes. Goro beelines for his bed while White Mask rummages through his kitchen for a glass of water.
“Hey, no bed yet.” White Mask says, leading Goro to his bathroom. White Mask reaches into the cabinets like he owns the place, somehow guessing perfectly where Goro keeps all his stuff. By this point Goro is far too tired and far too sleepy to do much, so White Mask carefully helps remove Goro’s makeup for him. He even wets Goro’s toothbrush and puts toothpaste on it, demanding brushes.
When all is said and done, Goro splashes his face with water, and White Mask carefully applies some of his skincare.
“Okay, you’re ready for bed now.” says White Mask. As Gore leaves, he notices White Mask taking out the spare toothbrush Goro keeps for Akira. Disgusting. Goro’s going to have to replace that for Akira, and when Goro points out unhygienic it is, White Mask laughs. “I think it will be okay.”
Goro wanders in his room and lands face first in his bed. White Mask joins soon after.
“Come on, Honey.” He says, and he lists Goro back up, helping to remove Goro’s shirt and pants, then helps him by put on his favourite silk pajama set, the one he typically wears for comfort, especially when he’s feeling sick.
Goro doesn’t know why he lets this stranger manhandle him like this, but he’s really too drunk to fight it. Doesn’t know why this stranger insists on helping, either. Maybe he just wants to fuck Goro, and he’s so kind that Goro might let him.
Ann wouldn’t let him go home with a stranger that would take advantage of him, though, even though she did want Goro to get laid.
White Mask takes off his own clothes and places his hat on the bedside table. He gets under the covers with Goro and pulls Goro close before turning the light. White Mask fidgets and Goro hears something placed on the table. He can’t be too sure in the dark, but it kind of looks like it’s his mask. What a shame it’s dark, Goro thinks. He would love to see this handsome stranger’s face – especially if he’s going to let the stranger fuck him as thanks.
-
Goro wakes to an empty bed, a pounding headache, and the smell of coffee wafting through his apartment. White Mask’s hat and mask are on top of his carefully folded clothes on Akira’s side of the dresser – is this motherfucker naked? Who does he think he is, walking around Goro’s apartment so shamelessly?
God, the same asshole who forced his way into taking Goro home and rummaged – wait,
Goro stops and thinks for a second.
The stranger who smelt like Akira.
The stranger who had a key to his place.
The stranger who knew where he kept all his things.
The stranger who used Akira’s toothbrush.
The stranger who’s costume involved all the elements of Tuxedo Mask.
Fuck. Fuck
Akira’s out there making breakfast in his goddamn kitchen after bringing him home. After Goro in his less than sober haze practically confessed to still being love with him, despite the face that Akira is getting back together with Hifumi. There’s only one way from his bedroom to the exit, and with the open floor plan Akira is sure to see him unless he somehow has his back turned to the stove at the right time. He’s going to have to jump out the bedroom window.
-Wait, pause. Akira is here because he took Goro home – which means he didn’t go home with Hifumi.
With the bravery he’d only known as a Phantom Thief, Goro pads out of his room with his duvet around his shoulders, cold in the early morning and very very hunger. He’s more than a little hungover, and the clanging in the kitchen doesn’t do much to help his headache.
“Oh,” says Akira, who’s shirtless and dressed only in his boxers. Fuck, he’s gorgeous. Oh God does Goro just want to lick those abs and mark up that neck and reach underneath the fabric – fuck, focus. “You’re up earlier than I expected.”
He pushes a plate of pancakes closer to Goro as Goro walks up to the table. Goro didn’t even know he had all the ingredients to make this stuff at his apartment.
“So last night, huh.” Says Akira, stupid cheeky grin on his face. Fuck this kid, actually, Goro doesn’t even like him anyway.
“I can’t believe I was too drunk to recognise you with that stupid mask.” Goro grumbles, digging into his pancakes. He still hates them and he knows Akira knows he hates them, but he’s too hungry to fight it. “You weren’t even wearing it when I first saw you.”
Akira shrugs.
Silence passes. “Look, Goro,”
“No, Akira. Let me. That night – new year’s eve, I was scared, and it was the biggest mistake of my life. I want you. I want us. And I -“
Akira interrupts him with a kiss.
“You’re an absolute asshole.” Goro says, now trying to push Akira away as Akira wraps his arms around Goro, holding him tight. He puts his forehead to Goro’s.
“Be mine?” He asks. Goro nods.
“Good,” Akira says, then presses a chaste kiss against Goro’s lips. “You can finish breakfast and we’ll spend the rest of the day lazing.”
And this, Goro thinks, for all things considered, must be worth it.