Chapter Text
This case has made a walking corpse of Goro.
Countless hours spent pouring over legal discrepancies and transcripts only to be left with maybe a page of usable notes, he’ll be lucky to make it out of his office tonight alive.
Goro’s grave would be marked case files he was never able to look through after he died of pure unadulterated rage past his prime at the ripe age of 42. This job has made him a pathetic mess of sticky notes and manilla folders tied together in the shape of a man.
Goro knows he's exaggerating, he’s worked tougher cases in the past but he can feel his palm slowly leaving an imprint on his forehead and the clock has only been reading later and later. He’ll be lucky if he makes it home before 3 am, though realistically he’ll just sleep in his office…that's been happening a lot lately, his couch has started to see more use than his actual bed. A soft imprint where he slept started to develop over the leather surface.
It’ll get better when you get into a firm! His peers cried. But it's been five years and far too many sleepless nights for Goro to consider that anything but a willfully ignorant lie.
His career as an attorney started what seems like a millennia ago but was really only around 18 years. The only photo he keeps in his office is one of him with his attorney’s badge pinned on his coat, his hair was shorter then, and constantly brushed his shoulders. It's almost like a ghost haunting him, the day he started his new, separate life, detaching from his past entirely a young determined face so far removed from the weathered man he is now.
A sharp series of raps at his door drags Goro away from his disjointed muttering, he ties his hair up hoping his eye bags and tousled hair aren't too unsightly for the godforsaken hours of the morning.
“Enter,” He lets out curt and annoyed.
The door swings open to a mildly disheveled Sae Niijima, her hair frizzy and eyes dull, clearly as overworked as Goro. However, she manages to keep her looks intact, whereas Goro looks older than her on most occasions despite her being his senior.
Sae throws Goro’s coat on his desk, sending him a sharp look only softened by her smudged makeup and loosened tie. “Get up, we're going out.”
“I beg your pardon?” Goro throws on the coat anyway unbuttoning his vest in case this happens to be some sort of insomniac client.
Sae makes no move to explain herself, only letting out a heavy sigh. Goro follows her out of the office and away from the blinding lights.
The cool evening air is pleasant as it brushes the back of Goro’s neck. He’s tied his hair up for work in a small twist which has been doing very little to disguise the strands of gray that have started to appear nor does it dial back the harshness of his expression—the thin line of his mouth set with a set of wrinkles that appeared astonishingly fast after his full induction as an attorney.
Sae walks at a brisk pace ahead of him, one that Goro is too exhausted to match properly, opting for trailing behind her, keeping his hands stuffed in his coat pockets rubbing against the smooth interior. Goodness knows the tweed jacket was expensive enough. It was a gift to him from Sae after he joined the firm, right after changing his name and erasing all records of the person before he became Akechi Goro.
He’s indebted to Sae, she made it so his career could stand on its own, shutting down any talk of him. Post-transition and he was nothing more than any average attorney, Sae may be one of the only people in his life that actually know his journey. He picks up his pace.
They wind their way through quiet backstreets only walking a few minutes from their office before ducking into a secluded alleyway. Goro assumes this is Yogen-Jawa but he decides not to ask, letting Sae lead the way.
Sae stops in front of a small cafe safely tucked away in an alley. Coffee and curry apparently.
A few stray cats scatter from their arrival escaping into the shadows and away from the food and water dishes laid out for them. A tuxedo cat sits beyond the striped awning of the cafe watching Goro carefully, tail swishing at his side. Goro never understood much about cats and opts for ignoring the feline instead examining what kind of place would choose to stay open this late.
The cafe looks cozy enough: a handful of overgrown plants set on a ledge framing a chalkboard that would typically show the hours and specials but has been wiped away leaving a smeared canvas. Goro would doubt the place was even still open if there wasn't a lamp lit directly in the display window.
Sae opens the door with ease, a little bell ringing to alert their presence.
The smell of roasted coffee and the warm notes of homemade cooking with a hint of spice hit Goro full force as he enters his eyes adjusting to the dim lighting and humble interior.
The inside is warm, wearing the air of a lived-in cafe. The bar stools plush as Goro sits down examining the various knick-knacks and jars of beans all labeled with far too many names. Goro can't imagine keeping up with so many blends. The cafe is also completely deserted with faint shuffling sounds from the kitchen but no customers in sight.
Sae taps away at her phone a sigh hanging on her lips and a crease developing in her brow that hasn't left all night. While their interaction in the office isn't enough to truly call them friends they have known each other since Goro started, and in the current case he's been assigned he was partnered up with none other than Miss Niijima Sae herself.
“I hope we can get some decent espresso,” Goro mumbles a curt nod from Sae indicating he was heard but nothing more. Some faint jazz plays from somewhere draws Goro’s mind to a time when he would waste his college days away at a jazz bar surrounded by his bar exam prep.
“You two are in awfully late.” A smooth voice chimes from the kitchen as a barista steps out quickly tying an apron that dramatically cinches his waist. He smiles boyishly head crowned with a mess of dark curls and even with his eyes hidden beneath thick-framed glasses his eyelashes are long enough to give many girls intense envy. He gives them both a pleasant smile, Goro returns the gesture with a polite (albeit strained) smile of his own.
“Let me get you our roast list.” The barista turns his back to them fiddling around behind a shelf.
It’s then Sae’s phone lets out a shrill ring. The barista must be used to this since he doesn't even look their way as Sae groans, picking it up with a curt, “Good evening.”
She motions for Goro to hand her a pen and takes out her legal pad quickly jotting something down. The barista still remains hidden behind the shelf; the jazz which was previously calming Goro’s nerves becomes too much amidst the noises.
Sae taps Goro’s shoulder with the back of the pen. “I need to step out to handle this, just get me a double shot of espresso.” Throwing down a handful of yen she leaves the clacking of her heels fading away leaving Goro the only customer in the cafe.
The barista returns sliding two laminated menus over. “Your friend heading out?” He says politely leaning over the counter and giving Goro a good view of his face beneath his glasses and curls.
He looks young—younger than Goro probably in his third or fourth year of college his eyes wear a permanent smile as he stares down at Goro almost expectantly.
Must want him to look over the menu. Either is an enthusiast for coffee or wants Goro gone as quickly as possible.
“A double shot of espresso for my friend and a…” Goro pauses, looking over the list of roasts and notes and flavors picking one at random and pointing to it. “I’ll just have a black coffee.” Goro watches something pass over the barista’s face before smoothening back out into lazy satisfaction.
“Brazilian Bourbon?” He asks, eyeing the roast Goro had picked out, he phrases it like a statement rather than a question already grabbing the beans and measuring them out with startling precision even when he keeps his eyes trained on Goro. His stare seems almost as measured as the coffee he’s working on; there's something about the way he looks at Goro in a way that almost reads as recognition.
The barista pours the beans, it's a grinder not flicking it on quite yet. “That’s a good choice, I’ll never pass up these smoother blends plus it’s nice to know we have such a fine connoisseur in our humble establishment.” The barista purrs, leaving Goro unable to respond as he flicks on the grinder letting his hip rest against the edge of the counter, his eyes flitting over Goro’s form stopping around his neck where his clip-on badge rests.
That gaze once again stirs something strange in Goro, he is used to attention on him certainly but he feels deeply exposed in this comfortable little cafe.
The grinder dies down letting the jazz fill the silence once again. “We don’t get many customers this late.” The boy presses down on the coffee grounds, slotting the espresso machine together.
“You're rather chatty for someone working at one in the morning.” Goro deadpans a startled laugh sounding from the other boy.
“Well, I was going to say we hardly ever get customers as interesting as you. ” The coffee pours into the cup in a smooth constant stream filling the cafe with an even stronger coffee scent.
“Should I be insulted?” Something lights up in the boy’s eyes as Goro speaks.
“You wound me, I’m paying you a compliment”
The barista leans up against the counter eyeing Goro up and down far slower than he needs to, twisting a finger around a single curl as he does so.
“Let my powers of observation be at work. Hmm, I’m assuming you work at some kind of fancy company like a law firm, overworked and staying up late cracking a cold case and you just so happen to stumble in this shop of all places and order my favorite blend. I’d call that pretty novel.”
Goro stares, the barista must take that as a sign to continue.
“Let me guess… detective?”
“Attorney actually.”
A wide smile breaks out across the barista’s lips as though he was expecting the answer all along, pleased at Goro’s ability to not lie.
Though what Goro really needs some caffeine in his system before he passes out on the counter leaving his dignity in shreds.
“You should visit more often. I do love hearing about court cases, I'm a bit of a law drama fanatic.” He waves his finger around in a dramatic motion giving his mannerisms an air of cuteness behind the awkward lankiness of it all.
“Is this your way of trying to get more tips from me?” Goro’s typical politeness has washed away under the evening and the dim cafe lighting leaving a bitter old man complaining at the counter in his wake.
God, he really needs to invest in something to help him look a bit less sharp and aged.
“I wouldn't dream of it,” The barista croons, his eyes curling into crescents. “Consider my tip this conversation.” He leans across the counter again, a sort of satisfaction swimming in his eyes as the coffee drips and runs dry.
As quickly as the presence arrives it disappears as the boy grabs two to-go cups anticipating that they will be leaving without Goro needing to say anything.
Goro takes a quick sip wanting the caffeine injected directly into his system at this very moment. His face still feels too hot and his limbs too restless from just being in the cafe.
To his surprise, it's rather sweet while scalding. It's been cooled with milk and sugar. A foam gathers on his lips causing Goro to have to lick it off, an action the barista watches, perhaps surprised by his distraction, giving Goro the wrong drink.
“Is this…” Goro asks but the barista beats him to the punch
“I'm so sorry I can change that out for you.” The barista leans over ready to grab the cup from Goro’s hand in an action that puts them far too close.
“It's really alright.” Goro takes another sip trying to find some way to distract from the growing tension of the night. If he is honest (which he never is when ordering drinks) he prefers sweet coffee as opposed to taking it black but he has a reputation to uphold even in places like this it is important Goro is seen as someone commanding of respect.
The barista doesn't seem surprised, some sort of constant anticipation that comes with youth, Goro assumes. He finds the coffee some of the most enjoyable he has had in quite a long time, perfectly sweetened to his taste with a healthy dose of foam on top. Client meetings and quick stops always land him in clean minimalistic coffee shops with blends that leave much to be desired, Goro wants to know the secret to this shop and why it seems so deserted.
He slides Sae’s cup over “Careful with that strong espresso I’d hate to lose two great customers.”
Goro refrains from telling him They seem to be the only customers around. He supposes they would draw a half-decent business in the mornings.
The barista watches him carefully, Goro takes this to assume he should pay. It is one am and the atmosphere of the cafe is starting to feel all too warm and constricting (even if he is a bit annoyed at being shuffled off so quickly) He pulls out his wallet intent on returning Sae’s money to her.
“It's on the house.”
“Pardon?”
The barista laughs, it's a raspy purr he pushes Goro’s wallet back towards him, their fingers brushing for a moment. The cafe really is too warm. “Like I said, it’s on the house.”
“I can’t possibly let you do that…” He trails off looking for a name tag but finding none. He can be polite and pleasant and he will most certainly not be indebted to a random barista.
“Kurusu Akira, pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise…Akechi Goro.” He nods to Kurusu, noticing Sae moving from outside the window clearly agitated with her call.
“Allow me to pay, call it even.” Goro puts on his most charming smile and sweet voice, hating the way it sounds but making his point.
Kurusu eyes him for a moment, rather thoughtfully which Goro notes as odd. “You don’t owe me a thing, though if you happen to wander back into this humble shop again, bring me an interesting story yeah? I’m sure you hear plenty.” His voice dips down a bit, paired with the jazz Goro feels sufficiently overwhelmed, he tugs at his tie which has grown far too tight on his collar.
The door chimes loudly, breaking the reverie.
“We gotta go Akechi-kun. Makoto has something going on and god knows what else at the office, we’ll need to run by those files again.” Sae burst in, grabbing her coffee, and then Goro. She mutters a small thank you to Kurusu who gives a small wave watching them through the window until they round the corner.
The air is cool, a welcome change from the warmth of the coffee shop. Goro speaks before he thinks, his mind a bit dizzy.
“I think that barista was hitting on me, something about the way he was moving…”
Sae looks from the door of the cafe back to Goro with enough skepticism and arsenic to kill a man “I didn't know sleep deprivation caused delusions.” Sae deadpans as they walk back through the streets.
“I wouldn't have guessed your taste skewed younger.” Sae doesn't mention Kurusu being a man though perhaps that much is obvious about Goro.
“It doesn't, I was just saying.” He grumbles earning him another unamused look, he has said stranger things from lack of sleep.
“Whatever you need to tell yourself to get your work done.” He resists the urge to flick her arm, since none of his glares ever seem to do the trick.
“He must be like that with all his customers.” Goro sighs, re-adjusting his tie, fixing his mask of professionalism.
“Must be good at it if he suckered you.”
“I promise I was far from suckered.” Sae only chuckles, opening the office door and diving right back into the cold lawyer front she wears.
Something about Kurusu’s energy intrigues Goro but not enough for him to neglect his work, he keeps his thoughts from straying to that little cafe avoiding any amount of jealousy or awe at the way the weight of the world seems lifted from his shoulders under the gentle atmosphere of the cafe that wraps itself around him and refuses to leave.
Goro rose painfully early from his couch the next morning, the office was full of a pleasant buzz.
He brushes back his hair sweeping it into a ponytail and washes up before contacting Sae. If she notices he slept in his office she doesn't say anything. It became an unfortunate habit of his, but if he was on time and made his deadlines, well it was a negligible sacrifice. (even if his back is already seeing the after-affects of such choices).
This case was a bit outside of their usual scope some massive food cooperation facing a lawsuit at the hands of the owner’s daughter, it turned sour when the owner himself was murdered and left Goro in some kind of crime law role (which he was not hired to do but his experience is enough and he has a contract to abide) Thankfully the companies daughter is rather forthcoming with information but suing such a large company is rough work.
He handled cases going south like this before, one in particular that comes to mind. Some distant memory of a public courtroom that left him a disheveled mess as a relatively new lawyer. Goro recalls the strange circumstance and the fact it was tied to his own father and—
The ring of his office phone pulls him out of his memory with a shrill screech.
He picks up the cheery voice of his secretary buzzing on the other end of the receiver; crackling faintly as she informs him of a canceled meeting.
She pauses for a second saying something to someone else that Goro cannot make out, she stifles a giggle. “Akechi-san it seems you have a gift to be dropped off!!” The person she was talking to says something again she gives an amused huff and Goro can feel his eyebrow twitching from it all.
Someone comes into his own office to charm his secretary, he hopes to shuffle them off quickly and return to work.
“Send them in please,” Goro clips and cuts the call. He taps the butt of his pen against the mahogany, the pigeon holes filled to the brim with envelopes, and torn open letters; it's a marvel Goro manages to keep anything in its place.
The door clicks open, Goro keeps his eyes on the report assuming it is some kind of client gift as is customary. He gives a polite, “Set it on the side table please,” But the words die on his lips when he looks up to face his visitor.
The barista: Kurusu Akira he recalls, standing in his office looking out of place and rather sheepish. A visitor tag has been slapped onto his uniform which consists of a flower-patterned apron and a light green v-neck. Goro almost didn't recognize him behind a bouquet of colorful flowers held in his arms.
“Small world isn't it?” The rich purr of his voice sounds so foreign as it bounces off the walls of his crepuscular office.
Kurusu stands out, eclipsing the dark wood and wine-red walls with his cutesy apron and bright complexion. Goro notices a leaf stuck in his hair.
“I’ll admit I did not expect to see you.” Goro stands, extending his hand for Kurusu to shake. The boy looks down at it for a moment, a surprised look passing over his face before smoothing out into a pleasant smile; it's such a quick change Goro wonders if he imagined it. Kurusu’s hand is warm in his, even beneath his gloves he can feel it: that firm grip and the notches on his knuckles.
Must be dexterous.
Goro shakes the thought free, thoroughly embarrassed. He clears his throat. “Will I see you scanning my groceries next or do you limit your odd jobs to flower delivery and late-night coffee?” Goro lets his hand slip from their grip, returning to fiddling with his pen.
“I work here and there, but primarily Leblanc, someone has to stay up for those evening crowds.”
Goro thinks of the empty cafe. He chooses to be nice. “How noble of you.” It comes out as deeply sarcastic, regardless of Goro’s intention.
“So cruel Akechi-sama! Not all of us can work ourselves to the bone in fancy leather-clad offices like you.” To prove his point Kurusu runs a finger down the leather upholstery of Goro’s couch, an action he finds himself following—the way he trails it down is far too slow and calculated. Kurusu perfectly flicks his gaze back to Goro, finding him watching. He breaks out into a catlike grin, Goro half expects to see a fang poking out from behind his lips.
The “Akechi-sama” was a…surprise. Goro crosses his arms, sighing in response to the young man in front of him.
The flowers sit on his end table, it's not an overly large bouquet, nor anything that stands out, it's a pleasant simple bouquet: bright honeysuckle, red orchids, stock flowers, and alyssum blooms. Some of his favorites are woven in and the color palette fits his office and general aesthetic very nicely, it has to have been from someone familiar with him and his taste.
Goro grabs the attached notecard.
“That one is from an anonymous sender.” Kurusu chimes from behind him, having moved up to look over Goro’s shoulder. It occurs to him that Kurusu is a little bit shorter.
“Is that so? I had assumed it was from a client.” the note card slips back down.
“Wow, say do your clients shower you with gifts?” Goro decides to ignore the question, Kurusu shrugs continuing anyway, “Maybe I’ll get assigned to you again, it's so sleek up here. Plus I wouldn't mind another conversation with my favorite client.”
Kurusu sends a wink his way. Goro huffs shaking his head. “Yeah yeah save it for your other customers you need to charm.”
“Oh, but Akechi-san I don't have any other customers as interesting as you.” He says it in a teasing way like there is a light giggle waiting to be let out.
“Well, when I visited there were no customers at all, also what happened to Akechi-sama?”
“Aren’t we becoming friends?” Kurusu says but ultimately pulls out a small clipboard from his apron pocket taking out a pen from behind his ear (Goro didn't even know it was in that nest of hair)
“Can I ask you to sign Akechi-senpai? ” He sing-songs causing Goro to sputter. “Kidding, kidding!” Kurusu puts his arms up still giggling.
Sure doesn't sound like it, he seemed all too happy to be speaking like that. Goro thinks gloomily.
Kurusu twirls the pen between his fingers Goro fixated on the action before clearing his throat and quickly scribbling out his signature a large slopped A dominating all the other letters.
Kurusu looks down at the receipt rather satisfied. Goro assumes he'll take his leave but something negs him. He walks over watching Kurusu’s eyes widen in surprise. Goro leans in, plucking the leaf from his hair. “There we go.” He discards it in the trash, turning to see a faint color spreading across the tops of the florist’s cheeks and his mouth slightly agape but quickly drowning it out with a shy grin. “I suppose I must have had that in there the whole time.”
“It most was, perhaps if you ran a comb through your hair maybe you wouldn't lose leaves in there.” Goro can't help the banter that falls from his lips, it's so easy to imagine he's behind the bench throwing statements back and forth. There's an easy, almost lazy atmosphere to the office now, a sly smile spreading across Goro’s face as if he is conversing with an old friend instead of a stranger. Even if Kurusu hardly treats him that way.
“Not all of us can have such flawless hair as you Akechi-san, plus I’ll have you now a lot of work goes into the effortless curls.”
“Mhm, I’m sure that effortless part is coming in clutch.”
“It's rather in trend now” He cards a hand through his hair dramatically.
“I fear I will never keep up with those,” Goro says sullenly, knowing full well he runs a very active Featherman blog that updates weekly on the hour. But he would hardly count that as being “in tune with the youth” .
“It can't be helped, you have to keep up that distinguished charm after all.”
“Is that your way of calling me old?” Kurusu shrugs his shoulders making Goro scowl. There's an annoying charm to the man that Goro finds he needs to prove his point and win this strange challenge he entered with a barista twenty years younger than him. But Kurusu heads for the door, sending Goro a smug look. Bastard.
“I hope to see you tonight Mr. Attorney, I’ll reserve you a seat,” He purrs, holding onto the door frame and eyeing Goro for a moment. That look strikes a chord in him: eyes beneath a curtain of curls, a presence that could easily slip into the shadows if you look away.
Kurusu smiles at him, turning away and stalking off down the hall, Goro finds himself staring at the empty space he left.
He should close the door yet something gives him pause, a hesitation about this strange visit.
Goro forces his body to move catching Sae’s eye as she walks by his office, he ignores her curious gaze clicking the door shut and letting his hand rest on the cool wood, the flowers will be a nice touch of color in the space, Goro had found himself looking to get something to brighten it all up, it's been a pleasant coincidence
Yet…
Goro flips the card over again neat handwriting has ‘Anonymous gifter’, a small cat face drawn in the corner, presumably by Kurusu as he filled out the information paper.
There is nothing on the strange card to suggest who might have left it. No note, no client. Goro shouldn't pay it much mind, some clients are involved with embarrassing cases and would rather not have their name attached to a gift, it's a normal thing.
But, as Goro observes the lush bouquet filling his office with a fresh floral scent he can't help but feel antsy as though there is some massive clue he is missing.
He types into the search bar in a sudden fit.
“Alyssum: Worth beyond beauty...”
The night keeps Goro in its clutches yet again. The past few months have passed this way, late work days turn into late nights most of which always lead him down winding backstreets.
The gentle stillness interrupted by the soft clack of Goro’s loafers against the uneven street. The familiar awning and inviting window display of overgrown plants beckons Goro inside the promise of some solace for these long lonely nights is a call that he has a hard time refusing.
The bell signals his entrance as it has done more than fifteen times in the last two months. He’s become something of a regular. Curiously when he arrives the cafe is always deserted leaving Goro the only customer, and the only barista being Kurusu. Goro has to wonder how they are turning a profit but the coffee is good enough and caffeinated enough for him to mind his business.
“Look who decided to pay me a visit again,” Kurusu chirps from the counter. He's perfectly styled and already grinding Goro’s blend of coffee as though expecting his arrival. Today Kurusu sports a black sweater and gray slacks still overlaid with the green apron that he has tied tight around his waist. Goro looks away, focusing on the recently replaced leather straps of his briefcase.
He pulls the case open, fanning out some files while Akir attends to the machine with gentle patience.
“You wouldn't mind if I set these here would you?” Goro asks as he is already setting out a few manilla folders.
“Not at all, I want to create a comforting environment here, make yourself at home,” Kurusu’s voice dips down a bit, pulling sugar and a stir out from a drawer and closing it with his hip in a motion that is far more exaggerated than it should be. Goro once again turns his eyes back to his work, finding it hard to keep his papers straight.
“Ahem, I appreciate the sentiment thank you” Goro is still reminded of his interaction with Kurusu in his office, the strange flowers he was gifted. His life has seemingly been full of strange encounters lately which is a world of difference from the cold monotony he had grown used to.
When he returned home yesterday he even found his bed made, he swears it wasn't like that when he left that morning but perhaps a change in pace was all that it needed for Goro to turn over a new leaf (and accidentally leave his door unlocked one day but that is beside the point he is a busy man)
Kurusu slides up next to him at the bar setting a warm mug of coffee down along with a sweet piece of cake, the icing looks homemade and clumsy but Goro is stricken with a sudden hunger.
“You are always working so hard I figured you could use a pick-me-up.” Kurusu leans his head up against his palm like a sulking teenager but he smiles wide.
“Anything you can tell me about your case Mr. attorney.”
Goro pauses checking his watch. Sae should arrive before too long so they can discuss and realistically he should be shooting Kurusu’s questions down but he finds himself grinning maybe a little excited over bragging to the young man.
“Well,” Goro straightens up with a charming smile. “The opposing counsel have their arguments ready but what they don’t know is I have an updated autopsy report, they won't get the memo until the court date so it'll be easy to pull one over on them.” It's true, Goro was pleased to see mail was running so slowly for his opponent.
“Wow, that's a smart tactic, if a bit of a cruel one Akechi-san.” Goro preens with the compliment. “Well you learn to be a cutthroat in law.” He was known as an insufferably smug lawyer in his younger years, always sharp and cruel. He's rounded out over the years but the rush has never quite left him.
The cafe’s bell chimes as Sae makes her entrance pulling at her jacket as she sends her briefcase down onto the counter without so much as a ‘hello’
Out of the corner of Goro’s eye Kurusu looks almost disappointed, Goro failed to mention his coworker coming, they are certainly stretching LeBlanc’s hours to their limit.
Goro converses with Sae raising the fork to his mouth and sinking into the cake, it's better than he thought it would be, and the best tasting thing he's had in quite a while.
As he works through the night Kurusu keeps his place by Goro’s side, even at one point leaning over to steal a bite of cake from Goro's fork, an action Sae makes a face at but ultimately doesn't disrupt their work.
“I’ll see you soon wont I Akechi-san?” Kurusu asks, walking him out the door, a hand hovering over Goro’s back after Kurusu had helped him gather his files.
“Keep the coffee flowing and you might see me return.” He waves Kurusu off, sending off down the street with a strangely quiet Sae, she wears a strange expression. Goro huffs,
“What’s that face for?”
“I think you may be right about that barista” She looks the other way avoiding his eyes. Goro knows she is talking about their conversation from when they first visited the cafe.
“I don’t need you to tease me about this he’s not wringing tips from me”
“And the flowers?”
“He delivers them.”
“Directly to you? Not just the office”
“I think that’s his job Sae-san.” Goro almost laughs at the teasing but keeps his gaze on his shoes, afraid she will see through to his core. The idea that he believes the barista who is nice to him is anything but that, that anyone boyish as Kurusu would want to spend their time with a decrepit soul like Goro.
“I don’t get paid enough to deal with you,” Sae groans, picking up her pace as though she wants to leave Goro behind.
The following day rain pelts down on a pleasant striped awning.
Not the one Goro has grown used to seeing but an awning nonetheless.
A chiffon cake is sitting in front of him a generous dollop of whipped cream piped on top and scattered with some plump strawberries, they are there mostly for aesthetic appeal. Goro finds himself wondering if his waiter bears that mess of curls and thick lenses but obviously, it is not. He is not even in Yogen-jawa, there would be no way for him to be here. It's a silly thought and Goro attempts to banish it, which fails considering every dark-haired stranger that passes gives him pause.
His coffee has grown lukewarm and untouched beside him. He's grown spoiled after his several visits to Leblanc, their coffee always smooth and complex (Even if Kurusu always insists on making it sweet for Goro) somehow managing to see through his facade of ordering black coffee with some kind of divine clairvoyance.
If Goro cast his gaze to the street he overlooks he’d be able to say exactly what way it is to the station, the exact stop he would need to get off on to make it to that cafe, nestled in an alleyway and perpetually open at night. Goro might have to inquire why Kurusu's boss makes him work such taxing hours near constantly. Goro has never seen another employee across his visits (Even if those are exclusively between the hours of 1 and 3 am)
He takes a bite of the cake, finding it soft and fluffy, not the best he's had but still a pleasant treat.
It might have been something he would document in the past. It feels almost sacrilegious to eat before taking a perfectly framed picture and thinking up some clever critique and caption. Those days have long passed Goro, the need to market himself online and in magazines only an unpleasant dream.
He had a widespread appeal, always needing to show off his pleasant and expensive image, to make himself a proper option, someone people wanted to hire, someone people would want to keep around: A perfect polite boy. The sickly sweetness of his image faded with years but Goro finds himself returning to cute hidden cafes and sweet shops. Maybe Kurusu is right about him having a sweet tooth…
Though Kurusu did manage to wrangle the knowledge of Goro having a food blog out of him, it's been inactive for nearly a decade but Kurusu has a way of getting him to talk, more than he would like.
When they were getting familiar, Goro even learned the facts of him having some kind of cat and that his friend had entered an art show he must attend, even said he would be happy to bring Goro a ticket. It was a rather embarrassing ploy to offer Goro companionship, a sense of belonging. He knows not to take stock in it—in Kurusu’s friendly smiles and laughs, the way he always seems to show up wherever Goro may be.
Akira …He rolls the name around in his head, the familiarity of it striking him immediately, shame runs across him all too quickly.
How pathetic for a man of 42 wanting to get close to a barista twice his age. Goro shakes his head.
Even more pathetic they must think, an old businessman spending his precious free time contemplating over a dainty cake, what a sight he must make, alone in this place, his pressed suit still one and briefcase at his side.
The next bit of his cake tasted rather bitter.
It doesn't take long for Goro to tire of the cafe finding the dreary weather and growing ever-conscious of the lingering looks of passerby.
He pays the bill and leaves without touching any more of his coffee. Sae is right he really has become a snob.
He slips his shoes off entering his apartment, his loafers sitting by the door perpetually given he doesn't go out in anything more casual his recent uptick in workload has made it increasingly harder for him to bike or boulder. Not to mention his back and joints have started to loathe such activities but Goro has far too much pride to give it up.
It's been over 48 hours since he's been back in his apartment. It almost feels foreign to him, sparsely decorated but tasteful enough in an upscale apartment in a respectable district.
He enlisted the help of Sae and her sister to move some things and managed to consult enough magazines to put things together semi-pleasingly. Even if his nightstand is still a box, more accurately a box for an actual nightstand he hasn't had the time or energy to build, Goro has a short fuse for those sorts of things and the box manages to work just fine thank you very much.
Sliding into an old featherman t-shirt and some boxers Goro turns on some news broadcast at a low volume as background noise. He sifts through his emails and the letters he's received mostly from various firms asking for files or attempting to acquire his services, his doctor contacting him to get more blood work done.
The most annoying part of taking hormones was the bloodwork, Goro needs it done anyway but he is nothing if not a procrastinator. His blood is probably fine where it is.
Goro looks up at the TV and back down to the letter held in his hands. A strange feeling passes over him, a melancholy that is hard to place.
Goro is aging, he knows this well, he oftentimes feels much older than he is but he's lived to the ripe age of 42. Perhaps lived is strange to say, when he was a child he was barely surviving he really didn't start living until twenty, getting the financial freedom to transition and leave the rest of his life behind. He was young and calculated but there was no one for him left in that childish life of his.
It was easy to lie low to start hormones and get scheduled for a quiet surgery, returning to take the bar as a new man, He was stealth outside of Sae who Goro trusted to keep quiet about him and strangely enough Yoshizawa who asked if she knew him at a bouldering gym. She keeps up with him by inviting him to lunch sometime every other month.
Goro isn't ashamed of his identity or past but his reputation as a distrusted lawyer is all he has and an aging graying sharp-tongued and angry man is already too much he doesn’t need people to know even if he did trust someone like that it’s not like he has anyone he does
He finds his mind wandering to the smiling barista
Yet it was hard to imagine his future, when he was younger making it to an adult sounded impossible and after that, the future was uncertain, strange even. Scraping to get by and survive is hard but figuring out how to live is downright impossible.
It doesn't help that you don’t see people like Goro.
They most certainly exist but you hardly ever see people like him when they are older, lack of recognition, secrecy, or crueler means make it so it seems impossible for people who transition to make it into middle age and beyond, yet here Goro is, in untouched and new territory, there isn't a guidebook or anyone to ask for guidance. He feels like an uncertain trailblazer that he never asked to be. He wants to see some older trans-man talk about his life, how aging is supposed to work, how it's supposed to feel but that never comes, and he is a coward, no one knows who he used to be, he cannot be the voice he needs.
Time passes without Goro’s consent and he doesn't know how to slow down. He knows work. He knows law. That had always been enough for him. Goro knows his mind is demanding more from him, straying to the gentle smile of someone he wants gone from his mind.
He slams the laptop open, scrolling through case files and opening on random, letting a transcript pull up, anything for a distraction, he doesn't want to think about that infuriating man and the existential questions he is causing Goro to ask himself. He reads instead of thinking.
The case was from about six years ago: his father, a man Goro loathes with his entire soul sued some teenager, it was a messy battle.
Goro was still finding his footing in law and took the case on a whim. It was strange to face his father in court, Shido didn't seem to recognize him at first, he didn't say anything of course. Goro forced him into laying low and with the eyes of the law on him only a handful of years ago. Goro wasn't going to let his career grow without making sure to take down that asshole.
He breathes in and out, sliding the laptop shut, he struggles to remember that case, the quiet teen behind him on the bench, it all faded away into a fuzzy memory.
Goro wraps a blanket around his shoulders leaving the news broadcast on, he climbs into bed thankful he bought some silk sheets, it's cool against his skin his hair still damp from his shower, he’ll style it in the morning
Goro drifts off desperately avoiding imagining long arms and dexterous fingers dancing around his waist and pulling him into a warm embrace.
How pathetic would that be?
Goro realizes he has fallen out of his typical routine by the time he steps off the train. A strange foreboding follows.
He left straight from his apartment at the unprecedented time of 9 pm. Usually, he would still be buried in work but his random Saturday had been left free after the prosecution had canceled their meeting, so now Goro is left to his own devices never really sure what to spend his time outside of the office.
His weekends were always different kinds of practice, bouldering, biking, online chess matches, and on the rare lazy occasion: featherman reruns and updating his blog over a glass of merlot.
Now Goro finds his head constantly spinning from work or other…realizations. His thoughts never manage to stay within manageable territory, so naturally Goro wanders right to the very heart of these distracting notions and into the backstreets of Yogen-Jawa. Because of course that is where his feet lead him, and he could desperately use a comforting beverage.
The pavement is still uneven but he's learned to avoid the catches and potholes throughout his late-night meetings. He really does have a problem.
Rounding the corner he spies Kurusu, free of his typical apron as he adjusts a chalkboard grumbling to himself as the menu; latch doesn't seem to be obeying his orders, Goro suppresses a chuckle at the image.
Goro stalks closer making sure he stays quiet out of some childish impulse to catch the infuriating barista off guard.
While he is taking advantage of Kurusu’s distracted state Goro realizes the chalkboard lists out Lenlanc’s hours, Goro has never arrived when it's been up. All of the hours read that they close at 8 pm, no earlier no later.
Goro files the thought away, making note of the peculiar state of the cafe whenever he visited. He wonders how Kurusu is connected to this place.
“I see they have put you to work again?”
Kurusu jumps, jerking his head back, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose in a move that on most people would seem disorganized but on Kurusu seems to only add to his boyish charms—charms Goro is growing more and more annoyed.
“You are rather early, Akechi-sama, decided to pay me a visit, did you?” Kurusu kicks the sign back in a stealthy motion, but not stealthy enough that Goro does not catch it, he wouldn't have gotten very far in his field if he wasn't good at picking up on subtleties like that.
“I told you not to call me that.” Goro deadpans a smirk playing on Kurusu’s lips at the admonishing. “Oh you have nothing to worry about, I’m just showing my respect.” He gives some kind of puppy dog eyes that Goro looks away from feeling the tips of his ears grow warm under the cloying attention.
“Sorry to switch the hours up but you don't usually pay me visits on weekends.” Kurusu scratches the back of his neck, his slouch only seeming to have grown worse after a workday.
“Your boss certainly seems to like putting you to work. While you will lack one paying customer, I can't say I'm disappointed he decided to give you the evening off.”
“You don't need to pout about our early closure Akechi-san.”
“Wha- I am not pouting,” Goro says furrowing his brows in a move that is very refined and sophisticated; Kurusu only makes a noncommittal noise not fully believing Goro.
“Let me make it up to you, yeah?”
“I’m not entirely certain what you mean?” Goro wonders if Kurusu will open the shop back up specifically for him, rationally he should refuse and tell the poor barista not to worry with it, but the idea of having Kurusu’s attention on him like that and treated to a cup that no one else will have gotten is rather appealing. Goro will take that sentiment to his grave.
Kurusu tosses something at him Goro manages to catch in spite of his delusional daydream.
“Follow me.” He starts walking off towards the station, and Goro finds himself dragged along as Kuurusu encircles his fingers around Goro’s wrist, the skin-on-skin touch above his leather gloves is scalding. He realizes Kurusu has tossed him a leather glove, the very same one he had left a week prior. Goro pockets it.
Kurusu lets go of his wrist once they shuffle into a crowded train car, the crowds have thinned from rush hour but it still leaves him pressed up close to the barista Goro realizes faintly that he smells strongly of coffee, with an underlying scent of jasmine; so smooth and sweet that Goro finds the car has grown far too stuffy.
Kurusu shuffles next to him, shooting him a small smile, his eyelashes so long Goto wonders if they ever brush the lenses of his glasses.
Goro keeps his eyes on the speeding scenery blurring into flashes of color ignoring the warmth of the man pressed against his side. The man shifts ever closer, wordlessly slipping an arm around Goro’s waist when he nearly topples over in his distraction.
Goro the cold and respected attorney is very composed and normal about a simple hand on his waist, he does not feel exponentially more pent-up by the time the doors slide open…
They step off in Kichijoji. The station and trains start to thin as evening drags on, he spares only a passing glance at the bustle of the city.
Strangely, Goro knows the path that Kurusu is walking, having resumed his light hold of Goro’s wrist as if he worried Goro will simply float away if he does not. The neon lights and bright atmosphere of nightlife pass him by as Kurusu expertly dodges in and out of crowds as though he phases through them entirely.
It occurs to him why this is so familiar.
Jazz Jin: a place Goro is very familiar with, a place he's associated with lonely nights and peaceful solitude. Now in front of the brick-clad wall stands a neon-lit Kurusu looking back at him expectantly. Maybe he had somehow sensed Goro’s familiarity with this place.
“I wasn't aware you were a fan.” Goro appraises a hand raised to his chin in a gesture that gives him something to do with his useless hands that are far too prominent at his side once Kurusu had let his wrist go.
“You’re a patron?”
He doesn't say: customer, or ‘been here before. But patron. A regular
“It's a place that I favored in my youth, and their lounge singers are some of the best around,” Goro notes the place is the same as he remembers, the only thing that changed was Goro and well…
“I had a feeling you were a jazz fan, you seem like the type.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Goro does not receive an answer Kurusu shrugs, approaching Muhen who is flipping through a worn clipboard.
Muhen recognizes Goro making a vague statement about him being back and more embarrassingly how he's brought company this time looking Kurusu up and down like a disapproving father but pointing them down to a secluded booth anyway.
It all feels painfully intimate.
Goro orders some kind of cocktail he didn't look at too closely aware of Kurusu’s constant gaze. “Let me treat you tonight to make up for a lack of your regular caffeine rush.”
“I’m sure I make leagues above a simple barista,” Goro pauses then finishes, “and florist.” He uses a light tone but doesn't hide the snide remark in his smirk. Kurusu takes it in stride.
“I’ll still be the one to treat you Akechi-san. Plus I think that something other than an espresso shot in the dead of night would be better for you. You have to look out for your health.”
“I’m not getting that helpless,” Goro grumbles out a response under his breath catching sight of the jazz singer from across the floor.
He keeps his eyes on her microphone aware of how close he is sitting to Kurusu, the intimacy of the situation. Certainly, someone could draw the wrong conclusions. Surely Muhen already has.
The smooth trumpets and gentle piano rise as a smooth voice croons enveloping the dim bar into something deeply saccharine. Yet Goro still feels Kurusu’s eyes on him, he assumed the young man would certainly be more interested in such a lovely performance, even if the thought causes a small twinge of jealousy to simmer in Goro.
He keeps his focus on the singer, refusing to avert his gaze he lightly taps his finger against the table in time with the music.
He feels Kurusu shift closer pressing their shoulders together, Goro shivers lightly at the touch. He hopes Kurusu didn’t catch it.
“Goro…” Kurusu whispers his warm breath hitting the shell of Goro’s ear.
He jumps back clutching his ear and his face a scandalized red. He expects to be met with Kurusu’s teasing smirk, a little game he's playing with Goro, one of their many back-and-forths.
Yet Kurusu’s gaze is almost dark, he looks at Goro beneath thick lashes where he sits so close, when he speaks it's a husky smooth tone, pouting but laced with something possessive, “What could possibly be so interesting over there.” Goro tries not to meet that heavy gaze. “You do come to these places to enjoy their shows, I’m surprised you are so resistant to it.” Goro reels in his composure.
“Is she cute?” Kursu sounds like a scorned lover.
Goro sends him an odd luck, the barista shrugs lightly but doesn't dismiss the question.
Perhaps Kurusu would like to meet a young woman like that, they appear the same age, and Goro suddenly feels the need to prove himself a better conversation partner than the singer. “I wouldn't know how to judge that. I doubt we will be graced with a conversation, sorry to dash your hopes,” He says unapologetically.
“I wouldn't want to trade this, after all, it is my treat.” Kurusu skillfully twirls a drink stir in his hand. “And I can’t lie, I enjoy seeing you this”
“Excuse me?” Goro leans forward, brow furrowing as he tries to make sense of Kurusu’s behavior
“Unguarded and brutally honest, it's so much more real than the advertisements and talk shows plastered around of you. It makes me feel special.” He says sweetly, taking his cocktail glass from the waiter and passing Goro his own, waiting until the server is out of earshot to continue.
“Am I special Akechi-san?” A single flick to his ear—the ear Kurusu breathed his name into.
Goro sputters, “I swear you will say anything that comes to your mind, Kurusu!” He tries to sound scolding but just comes across as embarrassed. How would Akira even know of his old promotional material? Goro is reminded of a static tape showing a brightly lit image of his smiling face as he speaks enthrallingly towards the camera. It's such a far cry from where he is now; he's happy to have shed that boy long ago.
He doesn't get a reply, just a strange look as Kurusu eyes him over the rim of his cocktail glass; it's a bright candy red.
“You know you can call me Akira?”
Goro had avoided that, even in his own mind, the name seemed too loaded with implications he does not want to confront.
“I don’t think that would be appropriate,” He mumbles, stretching his shoulders up with a pop.
“Oh Goro, I wouldn't rat out my favorite customer,” He speaks near Goro’s ear again a soft sensation rolls over him which he attributes to the alcohol (Even if his drink is far from heavy)
He still doesn't answer Akira, choosing to indulge in his drink instead, it doesn't occur to him the name change is happening before he knows it.
Akira cheers leaning forward, their glasses clink together, Akira looks so honest here, so stripped of the cool indifference he seems to put up with everyone. He looks smaller but not weak, just open, what was it Akira had called him? Unguarded?
“C'mon Goro-sama!”
“If I call you Akira will you never call me ‘Goro-sama’ again, ” He mimics the sweet way Akira says his name.
“I would say it's fairly accurate for me to call you but you have a deal.”
Akira looks at him expectantly waiting for Goro to prove himself. A challenge.
“I suppose I should thank you for the evening, Akira .” He says the name like a secret like he's locking pinkies with Akira and whispering into his ear. Something raw and vulnerable.
Akira breaks into a wide grin, his ears a soft pink, he looks almost…bashful.
Goro wants to look away god he knows he should look away but he can't, he’s caught in the light of Akira’s small smile. It occurs to Goro he has never felt this kind of way before. Sure he's had flings and a few strained dates here and there, Goro assumed he wasn't built for love or even a relationship but there is such a distinct magnetic pull he feels towards Akira, tugging at him, begging him to lean into the arm Akira has strung over the top of his chair, to grab his head and make it so his eyes are on Goro only.
It is dangerous. Goro is in unknown territory, he is practically playing with fire.
“People will talk if you keep taking me places like this,” Goro says swallowing down the rest of his drink (along with the remnants of his pride) without really tasting it, the sting of the alcohol softens the panic.
“Let them talk, I've never cared much anyway, used to be a bit of a delinquent you know?” Akira looks off in no particular direction. Goro is reminded of his delinquent years in his late teens, his awkward leather-clad form, dark eye bags and impulsive piercings (Some of which he still embarrassingly has. Everyone was so doubtful it is almost a point of spite at this point) Imagine that: a 42-year-old lawyer holding onto teenage spite.
The finger Akira taps down on the table mimics Goro's action earlier his attention is drawn to it.
“Though if you would prefer for us to keep our rendezvous secret for your shining reputation I wouldn't mind.” Akira moves his other hand to trace the rim of his cocktail glass Goro watches the languid motion.
“I don't care much about what people say anymore but you did invite a man old enough to be your father to dinner, I’m sure you would have preferred to take some cute date here instead of a businessman you are indebted to. I can't deny it is nice being treated though.”
Goro places the glass to his lips finding the drink nearly gone, the remnants of the cocktail sliding down far too easily. A leaf of mint gets stuck in the ice Goro laps it up.
He looks over finding Akira reaching the end of his beverage and while they aren't as strong as some liquor Goro can feel a faint buzz.
Realistically this should be the end of their evening as: Akira bought him a drink, they had a pleasant conversation, and watched a jazz singer to make up for Leblanc's early closure. Yet Goro makes no move to hail down the check or anything really just nursing the dregs of his bevrage.
It's some kind of standoff now and Akira is waving down the waiter. Goro assumes he will concede but he looks to Goro expectantly. “May I treat you to another round?”
Goro knows he should decline, and end this game where it's begun, Akira seems too sentimental to blame him, the responsibility lies with Goro—
“Fine. But I insist the next one is on me.”
Next one . The promise of something more. Akira grins.
Now Goro doesn't drink much. It's been quite a while since he has been properly drunk, which tends to be due to his high tolerance, he hopes it is higher than Akira’s.
Even still when his next drink arrives the gaze Akira fixes him with under the dim atmosphere where their shoulders touch is heavy, Goro throws back the drink hoping to distract himself. The start of a vicious cycle.
He can't even be sure if this is a dirty tactic of Akira’s or if he genuinely has no idea what he is doing.
There is no way in hell he is genuinely hitting on a man visibly twice his age, a man that has dogged him for drinks and made demands of him at 3 am.
So Goro turns to his drink when it empties yet again, he can feel the sweet numbness of being tipsy, not enough of course. Though what truly gives him pause is a soft blush growing over Akira’s soft face, so boyish even more so when he's like this, full of soft curls and round eyes…batting his eyelashes at him.
He hails the waiter again, ordering an espresso romano the citrus elements are intriguing but not nearly as much as needing some kind of caffeine in his system to keep up with the languid buzz that threatens to take him over. Akira orders something else smooth and clean that Goro doesn't pay much attention to.
When Goro gets his next drink he insists on keeping it to small sips at a time, for one he intends to win this challenge and secondly, the idea of being drunk around Akira sounds deeply mortifying.
Akira tugs on his sleeve an action that is deeply endearing despite its demanding nature.
“May I have a sip.” He gestures to the drink currently held up to Goro’s lips and without waiting for Goro to place it in his hands leans forward to catch the other side of the rim, taking a small sip a pink tongue darting out to lick a droplet off the glass, Goros eyes traitorously follow the motion. “Mhm good taste Goro-san.”
That is how Goro ends up downing that drink quicker than he should have. Now he really cannot tell if Akira is doing all that on purpose.
It's getting dangerous now, another round and Akira is actively leaning up against him, his flushed face pressing on Goro’s shoulder deft hands clinging to his forearm like a clingy octopus.
Even worse Goro removed his blazer meaning he can feel the heat of Akira’s skin through the thin fabric of his dress shirt. The dress shirt that is steadily hiking up his arm as Akira marvels over the smoothness of his skin.
Akira is one drink ahead of him and now quite thoroughly drunk. Though Goro is not faring much better, the pace at which he has downed his drinks is less than ideal. He must certainly have a higher tolerance than Akira but even so, the world is going sideways and his syllables start to drag at the end, though Akira is fully babbling into his shoulder.
A clingy drunk how fitting
Goro’s plans of going slowly dashed by Akira swiping a thumb across Goro’s lips claiming he was just cleaning Goro up.
It's a horrible game that Goro regrets playing.
One more round and Goro was officially drunk, his head pressing against the cool wood of the table, he knew better than to order another strong cocktail but Akira was taunting him from his perch: holding onto Goro’s sleeve asking if he was really shying away. Goro of course puffed up and proudly ordered the sugary liquor reeking concoction much to the waiter's concern.
Now the glass sits only two-thirds drunk and Goro knows he is slurring his words. He watches Akira who lifts Goro’s head making sure he is sitting upright.
Akira raises his own glass to his lips, some kind of neat whiskey (Who knows how many odd combinations of alcohol they had ordered tonight
He downs the last of it, licking off a small droplet that trickles from his plump lips.
Oh god, he looks so soft—so plush to the touch.
Goro wishes Akira’s grip on his arm was stronger, strong enough to leave a bruise that he would see in the morning and know who left it. Something to remind Goro of this look in Akira’s eyes, some way of pretending it was real and genuine. That Akira meant what he was doing.
“I win” Akira slurs in triumph as he presses against Goro’s chest.
“I think you were cheating.” Goro tilts his head fixating on the curve of Akira’s glasses where they nearly topple off the bridge of his nose Goro takes them off tucking them in his shirt pocket like a souvenir.
Akira's eyes curl into sweet crescents pressing ever closer to Goro “I didn't know you were such a sore loser.” He runs a finger along Goro’s chest earning a shiver from the man.
“If my last drink weren't so strong I would have won. Plus I think you ” Goro grits through his teeth, his face burning a bright red. “are forgetting the rules.”
“Mhm is that so?” Akira croons in his ear, the bar has long since fallen away leaving only the two of them in their small booth, too cramped and warm now.
“Say as the winner don't I get something?”
“Is that how this works?”
“Why don't you indulge me, "Akira stumbles up grabbing Goro’s hand. He complies, letting the younger man drag his loose body through the back of Jazz Jin into the bathroom hallway and into the darkness.
The last shred of rationality in Goro’s brain tells him to leave, that this is a catastrophic bad idea, a horrible decision he is making. But the other louder portion of Goro’s brain wants Akira to do so much more than pull him along. He’d rather the man consume him whole.
But he lets Akira hook an arm around his waist to keep him from falling, the smell of coffee and alcohol assault him immediately from where their faces are pressed so close.
Akira pushes the bathroom door open, and leads them through Goro lets him, his mind running a few seconds behind as it clicks shut behind him.
His mind fails to catch up when Akira pushes him against that same wooden door.
He’s cradling the back of Goro’s head, threading his fingers through his hair. The attorney finds himself leaning into it. Drawn to the soft and rough touches like moths to a flame.
Akiras mouth is on his in an instant. A dizzyingly rough kiss that Goro gasps into, it gets swallowed as Akira pushes against him.
Akira tugs at his hair and slips a tongue in where their mouths are slotted and every doubt and thought in his mind falls away.
Akira removes them piece by piece.
Niijima Sae: I know it’s a Saturday but I need you to cross-reference some transcripts with me and pull some files. Could I ask you to come into the office tonight? I’ll make sure the overtime pay comes through.
Akechi Goro: Kkep doors openw
Niijima Sae: Pardon?? Do I need to call you a taxi to the office?
Akechi Goro: Busyy withe ac client will be bakc later
Niijima Sae: …
Niijima Sae: I will see you tomorrow. But mark my words if you show up hungover I will personally cut your budget.