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The rain tapped gently against the windows of Leblanc, misting the glass and blurring the view of Yongen-Jaya’s narrow street. The usual hum of traffic was dulled by the downpour, replaced by the hiss of rain on pavement and the occasional drip from the awning outside.
Ren sat at the bar, a steaming mug of coffee cupped in his hands. He had made it himself—Sojiro's recipe, practiced to perfection after enough trial and error. The shop was closed for the afternoon, a rare moment of peace.
Goro was seated beside him, half-turned on the barstool so he could face Ren more directly, his cheek resting on one hand. His other hand was curled around a mug of hot chocolate that Ren had insisted on making, even though Goro had rolled his eyes and said, "I'm not a child."
(He’d still added three marshmallows.)
“I’m not saying your coffee is bad,” Goro murmured, taking a sip, “but I am saying I can feel my arteries filing a complaint.”
Ren raised an eyebrow. “Then stop stealing mine.”
“I’m not stealing, I’m sampling. There’s a difference.”
“You drank half my mug.”
“A generous sample.”
Ren chuckled, soft and quiet, the sound curling in the warm air between them. Goro smiled into his drink, clearly pleased with himself. The overhead light above the counter cast a golden glow, softening the hard lines of Goro’s face and turning his eyes honey-warm.
"You could've stayed home," Ren said after a pause, voice light. "It’s pouring."
Goro shrugged. “And miss the chance to sit here while you fuss over drinks and pretend you don’t like it when I loiter? Never.”
“You don’t loiter. You hover.”
“I linger with purpose.”
“The purpose being?”
“You,” Goro said, not even bothering to pretend he didn’t mean it.
Ren choked slightly on his coffee.
Goro looked smug. “What? Am I wrong?”
“You’re insufferable.”
“You love me.”
“I never said that,” Ren replied.
“You didn’t have to.”
Ren rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at his lips. Goro reached out, thumb brushing a bit of foam from the corner of Ren’s mouth. It was such a casual, intimate gesture that it made Ren's heart stutter.
Outside, the rain continued. Inside, it was warm, mugs half-full, hearts wholly full. The silence between them was comfortable now, stretched like a soft blanket across shared space.
Goro leaned in slightly. “You’re staring,” he whispered.
“You’re pretty when you’re not plotting something,” Ren whispered back.
“Oh?” Goro’s voice was close, teasing. “So what does that make me now?”
Ren pretended to consider it. “Cute.”
Goro blinked. His ears turned pink. “oh.”
“You like it.”
“…Shut up.”
And then, maybe because it was raining, maybe because Leblanc always felt like home, maybe because it was just them in a quiet afternoon with nowhere else to be, Ren leaned forward and kissed him. Quick, gentle, soft as steam off a mug.
Goro kissed back like he’d been waiting.
Somewhere behind them, a floorboard creaked—Sojiro, probably, making sure they hadn’t broken anything.
They broke apart slowly. Goro looked like he might start glowing.
“…I should come by more often,” he said, breathless.
Ren laughed. “You already do.”