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The first time it happened, Akechi Goro did not notice.
For someone who spent as much time on his phone as he did, he seemed to have surprisingly little idea about what actually moved and interested his fans.
“I can’t believe it,” Ann giggled. “Like you haven’t had enough rumours flying around about yourself already.”
“Mh, yeah,” Akira agreed, half-heartedly.
If he was being honest, he didn’t mind those new rumours at all. He didn’t mind the subtle tweets, posted in conspiratorial tones as people tried to figure out who the mysterious, pretty boy next to Akechi Goro was. Was he a friend? A never-before-seen brother? God forbid, a date?
Akira shouldn’t be amused, he knew that. Akechi’s reputation was on the line. He could only imagine what his fans would say if they decided that not only was their beloved, charming Prince taken, but taken by a guy , even.
So the next time Akechi suggested meeting up for billiards at Pinguin Sniper, the last place they had been spotted, he should’ve told him no. He really should’ve shown him the photos and tweets and gossip articles they had already spawned.
Instead, he showed him a huge grin.
“Sounds good to me.”
Akechi was leaning over the table in several suggestive manners. It was one of the reasons he loved playing billiards with him - despite not being a huge billiards fan.
Well, that, and…
“So, sorry, can you show me again? I’ve not quite… I mean, it looked so professional.”
Akechi turned towards him, his eyebrows raised slightly.
“You really haven’t gotten it yet? I must’ve shown you at least three times, Kurusu-kun.”
Akira merely shrugged, mouthing “sorry”.
He was so not sorry.
He felt a tiny little bit guilty, though, when he spotted the two girls in the corner of the club, phones raised and fingers ready to trigger the camera, while Akechi stepped behind him with a sigh, hand wrapping around his to lead it, an arm around his waist to improve his stance and his body-warmth radiating through his clothes.
Nope, Akira thought, head swimming, while he yet again didn’t actually pay attention to anything that was happening other than Akechi, behind him, pressed against him, warm and hard and delicious.
Not sorry.
The photos were flooding the Akechi fandom the very next morning. Akira scrolled through the hashtag for breakfast, sipping from his coffee every once in a while to hide a smirk he knew shouldn’t be there.
It really was time to tell Akechi, wasn’t it? He shouldn’t keep this up. Shouldn’t encourage it further. His fans were getting meaner about it - Well, some of them. Surprisingly, a large majority of them seemed to… ship it?
“Me too,” he whispered wistfully. “Me too.”
Hm.
Well, a little more dreaming couldn’t hurt, could it? The rumours were already going, after all.
Akira created himself a new Twitter account, called himself "Goro Stan No. 1" and jumped into fan theories and… well, Goro-stanning. It was quite nice. These people simply got him.
Akechi came by a few days later, sitting down at his usual spot at the counter of Leblanc, sighing into his coffee.
“Something wrong?” Akira asked, his heart beating a little too fast. He didn’t want the game to be over already, his little dream bubble of playing Akechi’s boyfriend without Akechi knowing.
But the detective just shrugged.
“I don’t know. Lately, people have been… asking for a lot of my attention, so to speak. I have full schedules almost every day of the week. It’s tiring.”
“Sounds like success to me.”
Akechi huffed, voice unusually dark.
“If it was actually about me - about what I do - yes. But I’m not sure that it is. All people ever seem to want to do lately is pry into my private life.”
“They want to know more about you,” Akira replied, trying on a playful grin while guilt wrung at his heart. “I guess your fans would be happy to learn a bit about their mysterious Detective Prince.”
Akechi gave him a glare, obviously assuming he was being teased.
Probably for the best.
“I… this is rather… It’s just…” Akechi sighed, taking another sip from his coffee and Akira tried his best not to rush him into continuing, his hands clenched into fists around the washcloth he was holding.
Akechi was very rarely this flustered. It was endearing but also kind of worrying.
“What is it?” he finally asked, tone gentler than he felt. Actually, he felt like something big and heavy would roll over him if he didn’t soon hear the answer.
Akechi was staring at his coffee as he replied.
“The things they want to know. I’m not… comfortable talking about this. I’ve never… you know, no one ever truly had any interest… so it’s really rather…”
Aw shit. Shit. Fuck. Sometimes, while fawning over Akechi like a pre-teen meeting the girl of his dreams, he forgot how, well, inexperienced he was when it came to relationships - of any kind, really. Having to constantly deny any connections to these rumours when he clearly secretly craved something like that probably… sucked.
Shit.
“I’m sorry,” Akira replied without thinking.
Akechi looked up at him, eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, whatever for? This is hardly your fault.”
Except it was. And Akira, finally, felt sorry about it.
“I’m so sorry,” Akechi said the next time they had met up in the park, looking a bit depressed. “I swear, normally they don’t stare like this. The last few days have been… weird in that regard.”
“It’s…” Akira sighed, feeling himself grow more nervous and guilty by the minute. He really had to tell him, didn’t he? “It’s okay. Hey, ehm… Akechi, there’s something I gotta tell you.”
“Huh?” The look in those red eyes was tense as they snapped towards him, taking in his face as if trying to read an exceptionally interesting book. Akechi always looked at him like that. Especially when they talked about the Phantom Thieves.
If he was expecting a confession in that particular area, he was in for a long, long wait, though.
Akira pulled out his phone and wordlessly showed him an article explaining the latest rumours and showing some of the pictures.
Akechi’s face paled the longer he read.
“I…- Oh.”
“I… I found it the other day. Thought you’d probably want to know.”
“Y-yes. Right.”
For a moment, none of them spoke, both silently staring at the screen in Akechi’s hand, even as it had already turned back to black.
Then, both at the same time, brought out a rushed, nervous “I’m so sorry, I-...”
They stopped themselves, looking at each other with stunned expressions.
“You’re sorry?” they said, yet again at the same time.
Akira fell silent and Akechi cleared his throat.
“I… I didn’t mean to drag you into all of this. My fans can be quite… possessive, sometimes. They constantly judge who I'm with and invent stories about them if they’re not to their tastes. Not that I often... “ He bit his lip, looking away.
Not that you’re often with anyone your age , Akira added in his head. I know .
So did his fans.
They all noticed. They all noticed what Akira only recently had begun to understand - Being the Detective Prince was a lonely profession.
“Nevermind. Just know that I am very sorry.”
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about,” Akira replied softly. “It’s not your fault. In fact, I am sorry, because… I…” He could just say he found the article and be done with it. Out of any responsibility. And yet… it felt wrong, when Akechi had just shown himself this vulnerable.
Akira sighed.
“I let it go on for too long. I saw the things people were talking about us and I should’ve told you.”
Akechi raised his eyes again, the nervous look replaced with an inquisitive one, drilling into him.
“Oh? You knew?”
“I… yeah. For a while now. There were some giggling girls watching us play billiards and… well.”
Something spread on Akechi’s face, something that Akira didn’t like, that reminded him of his face when he had just solved an incredibly difficult case and every puzzle piece clicked into place.
His next words to him were a question and Akira knew it was a question only to trap him, not because Akechi really needed to hear an answer.
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
Well then, Akira. You deserve this. Time to walk into the trap.
“I guess I liked the thought of being your boyfriend,” he shrugged, even though he didn’t feel like shrugging. He felt like competing with his heart in taking leaps. Preferably off skyscrapers. Far, far away from Goro Akechi and the adorable, stunned expression on his face.
Terrified, he was terrified, facing the deer and the headlights both wrapped in one.
“Well.” Akechi finally broke the silence, his tone carefully kept neutral. Akira knew there had to be some real emotions underneath that pleasant facade, could tell from the troubled cloud that seemed to have darkened his eyes, but he was careful not to let any of it show. Typical, frustrating Akechi. “If you like it that much…”
Akira’s heart sped up. Wait, what was happening? He wasn’t really about to suggest…?
“There’s an event coming up for work. One I’ve been asked to bring a plus one to. I could… use your company.”
Oh. Right. Okay.
Akira smirked, doing everything to not let his panic and nervous energy spill out on the edges as he willed his heartbeat to calm.
“You want me to be your fake date?”
“Essentially… yes,” Akechi sighed. “I normally wouldn’t bother but it’s been made clear to me that… well… call me petty,” he muttered. “But apparently people have made bets on whether or not I will be bringing a date. Well. The more accurate description would be to say they’d made bets on me not bringing a date.”
“That’s not you being petty,” Akira replied calmly, feeling a tinge of anger shoot through him, finally calming his nerves in the familiar, cold way he knew from being Joker. “That’s them being mean.”
“Yes, well…” Akechi shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.
To Akira, he just looked sad.
“I’ll be happy to go with you,” Akira said loudly.
Akechi’s eyes widened.
“You’d do that?”
Akira shrugged again. “Sure. Everyone already thinks we’re dating already, so it won’t be too hard to believe, right? Plus, I could never pass on an opportunity to stick it to some bullies.”
Akechi smirked, his old composure finally returning to him as he regarded Akira with raised eyebrows.
“Oh? Sounds like you’ve got quite your own brand of justice. Would you say you’re doing something like this often, then?”
Akira could’ve laughed. Leave it to Akechi to take the most absurd of situations to try and frame him as a Phantom Thief.
“Alright, let’s make a deal,” he replied with a grin. “I’ll go with you, if you don’t bring up the Phantom Thieves for the entire evening.”
“What’s wrong with me talking about the Phantom Thieves?” Akechi asked, indignation so audible in his voice, it was as if for a second he had forgotten to put on his perfectly neutral mask. “I thought you enjoyed our debates on the subject.”
“I do,” Akira grinned, “but I also know I’m your main suspect in the case and I’m tired of thinking you’re only spending time with me for interrogation purposes.”
Akechi opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again, like a fish out of water, staring at him with widened eyes.
Then a tentative, crooked smirk appeared on his face.
“Fine. I won’t mention the Phantom Thieves. But only if you come in a suit.”
And that was that.
“So you’re telling me,” Ann asked with a giggle, “that you’ve openly told Goro Akechi you want to be his boyfriend and he invited you to a gala and it means nothing?”
Akira shrugged, eyes determinedly focused on the mirror he was standing in front of, pretending not to see Ann behind him as he straightened his red tie.
“It doesn’t. Some jerks have bets running on him showing up without a date and he wants to show them. What do you think of this one?”
“I like it. Reminds me of your metaverse outfit. All the suits you’ve tried on today were good, though.”
“Yeah well, it’s thanks to the metaverse I can even afford any of them,” he replied with a lowered voice, turning slightly in the mirror.
The suit did remind him of his Joker outfit somewhat. The red accents made it, he supposed.
There was a certain thrill of standing next to Akechi, wearing something that reminded him so much of the man he was trying to catch. Plus, the outfit might give him some of Joker’s confidence - good old placebo effect.
“Yeah I think I’ll take it. Thanks for coming along, Ann.”
“Oh, don’t you worry. I’d not miss your weird dating crisis for the world.”
“It’s not a dating crisis,” he replied, sticking his tongue out to her.
It was a dating catastrophe.
“You look… acceptable,” Akechi greeted him the night of the gala.
Akira raised an eyebrow.
“Wow, thanks detective. You have a unique talent to make a perfectly fine insult sound like a compliment.”
Akechi, of course, looked nothing short of stunning, in his perfectly tailored suit. It was unfair just how attractive the guy was. Akira suppressed the urge to ‘hmph’.
Akechi seemed to battle a smirk - and lost.
“I apologise. I just genuinely didn’t expect it from you.”
Akira stared at him in silence for a few seconds.
“You can be really mean sometimes, has anyone ever told you that?”
He could see Akechi’s lips twitch treacherously.
“Not directly, though I am sure it’s been thought about plenty. Well, shall we?”
He offered Akira his arm and Akira felt as if someone had punched his chest with a fist, all air knocked out of him before it returned again, his head swimming.
“Sure,” he said, linking his own arm with Akechi’s. “Off to swim with the sharks.”
“Off to the sharks,” Akechi replied, surprisingly cheerful, as they started walking towards the building down the main street, arm in arm, then added, “Do you think the Phantom Thieves are good swimmers?”
Akira gave him a meaningful glance.
“One promise, Akechi. You made one promise.”
Akechi snickered.
“You had already agreed to accompany me before even bringing up my side of the deal, though, if I remember correctly.”
Akira stopped to stand still for a moment, the entrance already coming into view, his eyes serious as he turned to Akechi.
“Yes. And I also said that I genuinely liked the idea of being your boyfriend. Something you completely ignored.”
Was it his imagination or had Akechi’s smile turned slightly sad?
“You don’t want to be my boyfriend, Kurusu, ” he replied, tone as serious as his and before Akira could disagree, he had already started moving again, his next word falling flat, toneless. “I’m the biggest shark of them all.”
People were staring at them. They were staring at them on their way to the buffet, staring at them when Akechi made his round to greet and chit chat with a bunch of people important to his career, stared at him when Akechi was on stage, being filmed for some grand speech, while Akira was left alone in the audience, silently cheering him on.
There was no doubt in his mind that the internet would explode today. Fangirls would shed tears, homophobes would have a party and shippers… well, they definitely were the ones winning.
Except Akira, having kind of become one of them in the most absurd way, didn’t feel like he was winning at all.
“You know, I keep on thinking, with everyone staring at me like I’m the dirt under their soles… you might have been better off finding someone else to become your fake boyfriend tonight.” A note of bitterness had sneaked into his voice, but it was okay. It wasn’t as if Akechi cared.
Akechi, who was devouring some of the incredibly expensive-looking Sushi, stared at him mid-bite.
Slowly, he let his piece of Sushi sink, frowning deeply.
“Do you dance?” he finally asked.
“I… what?”
“Do you dance?” Akechi asked again, clicking his tongue impatiently.
“I… I guess? I know the basics.”
“Excellent.”
Akechi took his hand and Akira suppressed the urge to spread his thumb over the soft leather of his gloves as he let himself get dragged onto the dancefloor under people’s incessant stares.
“You’re sure about this?” he asked.
“I’ve been treated like - how’d you put it? - the dirt under people’s soles for my entire life. If you think that’d stop me from wanting to be seen with you, you’re going to have to try a little harder.”
“I’m not trying. At all,” Akira promised, voice calmly even while his heart seemed to think he was running a marathon. “If you want to do this, I’m up for it.”
Akechi rolled his eyes softly.
“Then let’s.”
He wasn’t sure what he was agreeing to anymore. Dating, fake-dating, dancing? A mix of all the three? All he knew was Akechi’s hand was on his waist, the other holding his own hand and they whirled over the dance floor. Every single one of his steps was perfectly placed, almost calculated, as if he had learned dancing by heart like other people did poetry.
But his eyes were drilling into his, hot and intense and unwavering and Akira looked back just as stubbornly, almost feeling like he’d lose if he blinked - And whatever there was to lose, he didn’t want to lose it.
People around them were watching, staring openly, some of their own dances coming to a stop, but Akira didn’t care, barely even registered them anymore.
In his mind was only Akechi and the way his pale, concentrated face lit up after a while, lips tilting up into a relaxed smile. God, he was enjoying himself, wasn’t he? It was such a rare but beautiful view, Akira could get completely lost in it.
Until he felt Akechi slip, his foot folding to the side as he stumbled and quickly let go, one hand shooting to his ankle.
“Aw, fuck, ow, fuck !” he hissed, hopping on one foot to get off the dancefloor.
Akira stared.
And blinked.
And processed what had happened with a last shake of his head before he hurried to offer Akechi his shoulder, letting him lean on him and gently led him off the dancefloor.
“Are you okay?” was what he wanted to ask when he opened his mouth.
“Did you just say ‘fuck’?” was what came out instead.
Akechi opened his mouth, his gaze darkened to a glare, then seemed to think better of it and closed it again, clearing his throat once, his face turning back into the perfect, pleasant mask he wore so well.
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Hm, yeah, you said ‘fuck’. Twice. I heard it.”
“I assure you, I did in no way…-”
“Goro Akechi. Saying fuck. Right in front of my salad.”
Akechi’s face twitched in annoyance.
“I really just need to sit down for a moment. If you could lead me to that chair over there?”
Akira did, still grinning from one ear to the other. Only one little push more, he was sure…
“So, how often do you say ‘fuck’? In an average week?”
“Oh, will you be quiet,” Akechi hissed in that same sharp, cold tone from before.
Jackpot .
“At least lower your voice, you moron. People will hear you, you know? Fucking hell .”
Akira must’ve danced himself straight into heaven. This was heaven.
Goro Akechi.
Cursing.
“Goro Akechi,” he said. “Cursing.”
He had lowered his voice, torn between wanting to see more of Akechi’s eyes throwing hateful, searing daggers at him and wanting to live and see it another day.
“That’s enough of a performance anyway, I think we’re safe to leave,” he finally grumbled. “Give me your shoulder and let’s get out of here.”
Orders, Akira thought. He's giving out orders instead of polite suggestions now.
How hot.
Akira helped him out, taking him a few steps away from the main street and onto a secluded bench. The night air was refreshing on his heatened face as he watched Akechi slip out of his shoe, inspecting his ankle.
“It’s a bit swollen,” he sighed. “Annoying.”
“I can help you home, if you like,” Akira offered with a smile.
Akechi gave him a deliciously cold glare.
“If you’re hoping to bait me into cursing some more…”
“Well, that , but I’m also hoping to get you home safely. It’s a win-win.”
Akechi sighed heavily.
“Very well. It’s not like I’m in much of a position to decline.”
“Okay!” Akira grinned, getting up to his feet to help him up and gently guide him towards the train station. “And now say that in your real voice.”
“Is this going to be the rest of my life now?”
“Just do it.”
“I really would prefer if we could-”
“Come onnnn, Akechi.”
“Just get me the fuck home, Kurusu.”
Holy shit, this was too good. Akira had to stop, steadying Akechi before breaking out in howling laughter, his whole body shaking from the force of it.
Akechi watched him with open disdain.
“I knew it,” he finally brought out through snorts. “I knew no one’s that nice.”
“If you’re quite done.” Akechi’s voice was strained from badly suppressed rage.
“Aw, come on.” Akira bumped his shoulder against his and then immediately regretted it when Akechi stumbled. He quickly caught and steadied him again, before they kept on walking. “It’s how friendship works. You get to be your real self around me. It’s okay, you know?”
“It’s not okay!” Akechi shouted, voice suddenly loud, face contorted with a mix of rage and… oh, were those tears? “None of this is okay! People don’t want my real self, they never did, they want me to be some shadow, some empty canvas they can paint on whatever they want so the real me doesn’t have to shine through and ruin their fucking days!”
Akira reacted without thinking, before any insecurity could hold him back and took Akechi's hands into his, shaking his head softly.
“I’m not people. I like your real self. It’s honestly a bit of a relief to find out you don’t really have that stick up your ass.”
“Wh- excuse me?” Akechi spluttered, then, clearly against his will, a little laugh tumbled off his lips and he quickly turned away, huffing.
“So, what does real you like to do? You’re gonna tell me, right?” Akira asked and, determined not to let him hide, danced a circle around Akechi until he was standing in front of him again.
But Akechi wasn’t hiding. When he looked up at him, his eyes were gleaming as if he was a wolf, hunting down his next meal.
And while Akira’s stomach was still busy doing leaps at the thought of being said meal, he had already pounced, hands buried into the collar of Akira's (very expensive) shirt, pulling him into a bruising, heated kiss.
Holy fuck, he was kissing Goro Akechi.
“You want me like this, Kurusu?” he whispered against his lips, a sharp twist in his voice that made him shudder. “Hard and cruel and dominating? Is that it?”
Hell yes. Please.
“I want you in any way, really,” Akira replied earnestly. “But I like the thought of knowing you better than your fans that keep on insulting me.”
Akechi smirked at that, silent danger glittering in his eyes, enticing and beautiful.
“How about this, then, Kurusu. I get to talk about the Phantom Thieves and you get to hear me curse. That a deal?”
Akira raised an eyebrow.
“So you’re gonna talk about them while cursing.”
“Yes,” Akechi said, voice back to perfectly polite. “Because you and your little group of morons are getting on my fucking nerves.”
Some part of him knew he shouldn’t laugh but he couldn’t stop it. The giggle rolled off his tongue by itself, making him shake and tremble before Akechi and after a few seconds, Akechi joined in, all threats and cursing forgotten as they leaned on each other’s shoulder, trying to keep upright.
“So,” Akira asked after a while, after they had already started walking again. “Can I be your boyfriend or what?”
Akechi gave him a side glance.
“They’ll tear you apart. It’ll be fun to watch, though.”
“... That’s a yes, right?” he asked, squeezing Akechi’s shoulder once.
Akechi grinned.
“It’s a yes. If you think you can keep up.”
“Oh, you just watch me.”
There were people on the train ride. People their age. With phones and cameras and giggles and corners they watched them from, as they sat down exhausted in their expensive suits. They seemed to think they were subtle.
Akechi was wiggling his eyebrows at him.
And somewhere between kisses, hard and demanding and long and breath-taking, Akira remembered that the naive, awkward version of Akechi who wouldn’t notice his fans taking pictures of them from behind a billiards table had mostly been an act.
He leaned back, an eyebrow raised.
“You knew, didn’t you?”
“About your unfortunate crush on me or about my fans stalking us and putting up photos? Oh, or your fan account to retweet them with captions of how cute my new boyfriend looked?” he asked and then added swiftly, “Doesn’t matter - the answer is yes either way.”
Smug bastard.
Hot, smug bastard.