Work Text:
“Maybe I should buy a car,” Akira suggests, unlocking the door to LeBlanc.
Goro trails him inside, eyes on his rigid spine. “That really isn’t necessary.”
“Well, the next time I pick you up from the hospital, I don’t want to have to take the train home.” Akira dumps the bag containing Goro’s dirty clothes on the bartop and runs a hand through his hair.
“Akira—”
“Are you hungry?” Firm hands direct Goro into a barstool and Goro doesn’t bother resisting. “Sit down—I’ll make you something.”
“I’m fine.” But Akira doesn’t listen, bustling around the counter and into the kitchen. After a second, Goro can hear the sounds of pots clanging about, the pop of the fridge opening.
Goro sighs, letting himself sag against the bar. His injuries, while certainly not enough to warrant Akira’s big, shining puppy dog eyes, do still sting, despite the hospital’s treatment. He only needed a few stitches in the slash on his upper arm, but the cuts on his thigh and tracing under his left ribs are still tender and, admittedly, he’s tired. Field work is always risky, but neither Goro nor his supervisor expected the routine questioning to take such a violent turn. Things probably wouldn't have been so bad if the witness they were interviewing down at the dock hadn’t managed to drag Goro into the water. It’s hard to defend yourself against a knife while also trying to swim to the surface. Goro and his supervisor managed to haul the uncooperative man back onto dry land but Goro got several gashes for his trouble.
Akira’s face when he appeared in the doorway of the doctor’s office was way worse than any injury.
Goro knows that Akira isn’t mad at him. It’s just been a while since his job as a detective actually led him into danger. He tries to keep a low profile these days, ever since pulling out of the celebrity game completely, so he keeps canvassing and fieldwork to a minimum, but the possibility that something will go wrong is always present. Apparently, neither of them were very prepared when it actually came to pass.
The sounds of muffled chopping reach Goro’s ears and he straightens up, looking at the doorway to the kitchen. It’s evening, low orange light streaming through LeBlanc’s front window, and Akira didn’t bother to turn the interior lamps on, so shadows stretch long across the aged wooden floorboards. Work and classes picked up recently, exams around the corner, so it’s been a while since Goro just sat in LeBlanc, preferring to head right upstairs even if Akira is still on the job. He takes a deep breath now, inhaling the pervasive aroma of coffee and the lingering spice of curry. It’s a scent combination he’s come to associate with Akira and there’s nothing else in the world that communicates home in precisely the same way.
Well, nothing besides the warmth of Akira against him.
Wincing, Goro pushes himself to his feet and limps around the counter. He’s sure Akira must hear him coming. The ache in his thigh keeps him from being stealthy. But when he enters the kitchen, Akira is stationed resolutely over a cutting board, chopping a tomato and not indicating that he knows Goro is there.
Goro pads forward, telegraphing his movements as much as he can, and, when Akira doesn’t stop him, wraps his arms around Akira’s waist from behind.
“Don’t worry about that,” Goro says into Akira’s shoulder.
Akira’s pace stutters, knife pausing right over the taught red flesh of the tomato. “Let me take care of you,” he responds softly.
Goro tightens his grip, pressing his chest to Akira’s back. “You always do.”
“I—”
“Let’s eat later, Akira.” Goro noses at the nape of Akira’s neck. “I need something else right now.”
Akira hesitates for another moment, just long enough that Goro starts to rethink, loosening his grip, but then Akira sets the knife aside, turns, cups Goro’s face with both hands, and kisses him.
Goro opens his mouth, urging Akira to deepen the chaste contact, but instead of sliding their tongues together messily like he usually does, Akira just hums against Goro’s lips and slips his hands down to Goro’s waist, pulling him close. Warmth flutters through Goro regardless, and he melts into the gentle kiss, sliding one hand into Akira’s hair.
Akira moves his mouth deliberately, angling his head and licking over Goro’s lips, flicking inside just the barest amount, just enough to light little sparks behind Goro’s eyes. Hands skimming, up and down Goro’s back, Akira slides his leg between Goro’s and Goro sinks willingly against him, arms looped around Akira’s shoulders. When Akira finally glides their tongues together, it’s slow and hot, letting Goro taste every inch of Akira’s desire.
Lips tingling, Goro feels his knees weaken, and embarrassment flashes through him. He’s not a teenager making out with his crush. There’s no reason a simple kiss, identical to the thousands they’ve shared already, should be making him so unsteady. And yet as his heart throbs faster, Goro finds himself clinging to Akira, hands fisted in the back of Akira’s shirt. When Akira licks lightly along the roof of Goro’s mouth, he lets out an involuntary moan and Akira pulls back to lay a delicate, close-mouthed kiss to the corner of Goro’s lips.
Goro blinks his eyes open, ready to haul Akira back in for a hard, biting kiss, but the sight of Akira’s face makes his heart skip. Akira looks wrecked. After just one kiss, he’s flushed and panting, eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes are shining with a level of ardent desperation Goro hasn’t seen since—
Swallowing, Goro steps back on shaking legs, drawing Akira with him. “Let’s go upstairs,” he whispers.
Akira clutches his hand the whole way like he’s afraid Goro will disappear.
Goro shuts the door softly behind them and lets Akira crowd him against it. There’s an intensity about his boyfriend as Akira bows his head to mouth along Goro’s neck. Akira is always intense, slate eyes watchful and piercing, but now it seems elevated. Goro can feel the heightened tension simmering between them, in every brush of contact and centimeter of separation. He tilts his head back and lets it wash over him.
Seeking fingers grab the hem of Goro’s shirt and Goro raises his arms to let Akira tug it off, wincing slightly as the motion pulls at the cut on his ribs. It’s not deep, the skin held closed with little butterfly bandages and already starting to heal over, but it stings.
Akira must notice because he pauses, pulling back to look down at it. His fingertips graze just under the reddened skin, tracing the wound’s curve, before trailing up Goro’s chest to the long-healed, round bullet scar sitting just to the left of his sternum.
Goro’s heart, inches away from the scar, flutters restlessly. He catches Akira’s hand and moves it down to his own hip, bumping their noses together. “There’s no need to think about that.”
“I can’t help it,” Akira mutters.
“Come on. I know you’re smart enough to tell the difference between a few cuts and—”
“It’s not about the difference.” Akira sways back enough to fix Goro with a glittering stare, bracing his forearm against the door over Goro’s shoulder, boxing him in. The evening light shining through the window behind him throws Akira’s outline into sharp relief, shadows darkening his features. “It’s about seeing someone I love get hurt. Even if it’s not the same, even if you’re fine, I still—” Akira dips his head. “When you came back, you promised me a life, Goro. I don’t want to become something that chains you down, but you have to understand—” he breaks off, voice catching.
Goro tilts his head forward, resting his forehead in Akira’s hair.
“That’s everything to me, now—” Akira whispers. “I lost you once. I almost lost you again—there can’t be a third time. There can’t, there can’t—”
“There won’t be.” Taking Akira’s face in his hands, Goro guides his head back up, meeting his watering eyes. “I’d never leave you.”
This time when Akira kisses him it’s all clashing teeth and hands pushing him back against the door. Goro moans, lips parting eagerly for Akira’s tongue, hooking one ankle around Akira’s leg to press their lower bodies together. Akira’s hands travel down Goro’s bare sides, over his hips, and he stoops slightly to grab at Goro’s thighs.
Taking the hint, Goro hops up, letting Akira catch him against the door, wrapping his legs around Akira’s waist. Like this, Akira has to tilt his head back to keep kissing Goro and Goro cups his jaw, propping his mouth open for Goro to tangle their tongues together.
Akira plasters himself against Goro until there’s no space between their bodies and grinds his hips sharply. Goro sucks in a breath at the unmistakable nudge of Akira’s erection against his ass and the hard body between his thighs, trapping his own swelling cock between them.
Biting at Goro’s bottom lip one last time, Akira ducks and latches onto Goro’s neck, sucking a burning bruise just under Goro’s ear and Goro tightens his legs in response, baring more of his throat for Akira’s mouth. Akira ruts up again, jolting Goro against the door, and Goro moans, sinking one hand into Akira’s hair as heat sparkles through him.
“Would fuck you here if I could—” Akira growls against Goro’s neck, adjusting his grip to hike Goro up higher in emphasis.
Goro laughs breathlessly, knocking his head back against the door as Akira grazes his teeth over his collarbone. “Spend more time at the gym.”
Akira responds with a sharp bite and Goro reaches an arm over his shoulder to drag his nails up Akira’s back, moaning low in his throat.
“We could—get one of those door-mounted sex swings—” Goro grabs at Akira’s biceps, rolling his head to the side to allow Akira’s mouth more access, “—give your poor arms a rest.”
“You’ve been shopping again.”
“I’ve been researching, thank you—” Goro squirms intentionally, rutting down against Akira’s crotch and rubbing his own growing erection against Akira’s abdomen. “Unlike you, I don’t—ah—surprise my partner with sex toys.”
Akira trails a line of scorching kisses along Goro’s bare shoulder. “You love that vibrator.”
“You love that vibrator.”
Pulling back to flash Goro a slightly winded smile, Akira tightens his grip on Goro’s thighs. “I love it because you love it.”
“Okay, that’s enough of that.” Goro peels his spine away from the door to drape himself over Akira, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s neck. “No toys today,” he breathes into Akira’s ear. “I just need you.”
Swallowing loudly, Akira lurches backward and lets Goro swing his legs down and regain his footing. “I can handle that.”
After toeing his shoes off, Goro allows himself to be drawn into the small apartment, tugging pointedly at Akira’s clothes between kisses until Akira is shirtless and they’re fumbling with each others’ jeans. Akira manages to get Goro’s fly open and goes to shove his pants off but pauses.
“Your leg, is it—”
“It’s fine.”
Akira still looks hesitant, so Goro takes over, sliding his jeans and boxers carefully over the bandaged slice on his thigh. The motion elicits a twinge but Goro ignores it, stepping out of his clothes and catching Akira’s frown with a hard kiss. “I’ll tell you if something hurts,” he promises, working his fingers under Akira’s waistband to urge him along.
“Will you really?”
“I swear.”
“I’m trusting you.”
Goro’s heart flutters nonsensically in his chest. “Good, now, pants off.”
Obediently, Akira strips out of his pants and underwear and Goro instantly wraps his hand around his revealed erection. Akira hisses in a breath, leaning his forehead on Goro’s shoulder, and Goro hooks an arm around Akira’s neck, sliding their cocks together. Like this, he can get his hand around both at once and he bites his lip at the sweet pressure, the hot slide of rigid flesh.
Akira’s hands wander his body as he pumps their lengths slowly, one hand threading into Goro’s hair, the other dipping down to palm his ass. With a sharp tug, Akira pulls Goro even closer, pinning their cocks between their bodies and Goro breaks off a muffled groan.
He sweeps his thumb over Akira’s leaking tip, canting his hips into his own grip. Every line of contact with Akira sears like a brand and Goro can’t help how he leans into it, turning his face into Akira’s hair and breathing him in as he works his hand up and down their cocks.
Akira pants, hot and open, against his collarbone, hips twitching, each movement sending sparks down Goro’s length, heat blooming at the base of his spine. When Akira whines softly, crushing Goro against him, Goro feels goosebumps lift along his spine.
“So sensitive,” he purrs, nuzzling at Akira’s temple. “You’d think I never take care of you.”
“It’s never enough—” Akira swallows loudly. “With you. I never get enough of you.” He raises his head, fixing Goro with a look Goro can only describe as starving. “You make me crazy, all the time.”
All of Goro’s breath leaves him in a rush. Deep in his chest, an answering sense of restlessness rears its head, an ugly greed that Goro tries to keep tame, keep sociable, but in the face of Akira’s blatant hunger, it catches and ignites, spreading through him with a flashbang of desire.
“Me too,” he chokes out. “Akira, it’s not enough, it’s never—”
Firm hands around his waist topple him backwards and his back hits the bed, his mouth stolen in a forceful kiss before he can even register the shift in gravity. He opens for it with a moan, spreading his legs as Akira surges over him. Replacing Goro’s hand with his own, Akira strokes over their cocks and Goro drops his head back against the mattress, heat flushing up his chest.
“I want you—constantly,” Akira breathes against his throat before sucking a row of biting kisses down, over his collar bone, bowing to hover over one of Goro’s nipples. “It never stops—even after all this time—” he seals his mouth around the pert nub and Goro’s spine arches off the bed.
Clawing his hands up Akira’s back, Goro squeezes his eyes shut, bolts of electricity zipping through his body with each flick of Akira’s tongue against his nipple. Coupled with the delicious pressure around his cock, it’s almost too much, and when the cuts on his arm sting, Goro clings to the pain to keep himself from flying off the edge.
“Do—do you remember—” Goro starts while Akira’s mouth is occupied laving his chest with attention, “—the first time we had sex?”
Akira hums a low note that reverberates through Goro’s entire ribcage.
“Of course you do—” Goro huffs out a laugh that turns up at the end when Akira bites down lightly on his nipple. “You were so cute back then—so inexperienced—”
“Still fucked you stupid,” Akira rumbles, sliding their cocks together insistently.
“After a few tries, I suppose—”
Akira twists his wrist, wedging himself further between Goro’s legs, and uses his free hand to thumb the nipple he’s not currently rolling his tongue over. Goro grabs at his hair, pressing his chest into Akira’s ministrations.
“I sort of miss that—” Goro moans, “—seeing you tripping over yourself, eager and—and uncertain—”
“I’m a quick study.” Eyes blazing, Akira finally releases Goro’s nipples and adjusts enough to reach over to the bedside table.
“Too quick, sometimes.” The blood racing through Goro’s veins feels like lava, pushing heat deeper and deeper into his muscles, igniting his nerves with each frantic heartbeat, and he hungrily traces the line of Akira’s throat above him with his eyes. The waning light shining through the window casts Akira’s pale skin with a comforting honey glow. “It’s frustrating.”
“That again?” Akira retrieves their current bottle of lube and sits back enough to pry it open. “Feeling insecure today?”
“Not insecure, just—” Goro watches Akira shake his unruly curls out of his eyes as he stares intently down at the cap he’s fiddling with and a wave of affection swells though him so suddenly he has to swallow to keep it from pouring out of his mouth. “You really were so cute back then.”
“I’m not cute now?” Akira asks, squeezing a good amount of lube into his hand and tossing the bottle aside with a sly look.
“Cute isn’t the word I’d use.”
Rubbing his hands together to warm the lube, Akira bows enough to let Goro bump their noses together. “Then what word would you use?” he murmurs, slipping one hand down between Goro’s legs while his other returns to their erections.
“Hah—” Goro jolts, body unsure whether it wants to grind down on the finger circling his entrance or fuck up into the slick grip surrounding his cock. “Smug, usually.”
Akira dips his finger just inside Goro’s rim, teasing with just the slightest stretch. “You make me feel smug.”
“You can’t just blame all your bad habits on me.”
Tortuously, Akira works his finger deeper, sliding it back and forth to spread the lube, pressing farther each time. “We’ve always brought out the worst in each other,” he breathes, his other hand stroking them lazily.
Goro locks his ankles behind Akira’s back. “True,” he agrees, digging his heels in to urge his boyfriend to give him more. “I did swoop in and corrupt the upstanding leader of the heroic phantom thieves, tempted him away from his moral paradigm and into a life of sin and—and debauchery—fuck—” Goro tosses his head aside as Akira finally pushes deep enough to brush his prostate.
“Yeah, all of that.” A second finger quickly joins the first, scissoring with intention, each motion seemingly calculated to nudge slivers of heat right into Goro’s core. “Shooting me in the head—was so tempting and sexy—”
“You joke, but—”
“I’m not joking.”
Snorting, Goro grabs Akira’s head to hold him steady while he presses a hard kiss right between his dark brows.
“Kinky.”
“You’re the one that’s into it.” Goro submits to Akira’s seeking mouth, twining their tongues together languidly. He gasps against Akira’s lips as a third finger slips inside him, finally stretching his rim enough to burn.
“Okay?” Akira asks.
Nodding, Goro grinds down. “Need more.”
“Can I convince you to take it easy?” Akira’s gleaming gaze cuts to the bandages around Goro’s arm. “Even a little?”
“You know you can’t. And I know you don’t really want to.”
Akira crooks his fingers, and Goro jerks, thighs tightening around Akira’s waist. “I just want to take care of you,” he says softly.
“You—you always do—” Goro tips his head back against the duvet, eyeing Akira hazily. “You’re the only one who ever has. You’re the only one I ever wanted to.”
Again, Akira descends on him, commanding his mouth savagely, and Goro lets out a stilted moan when he removes his fingers without warning. “You always know just what to say—” Akira hums, adjusting his angle to prod the blunt tip of his cock against Goro’s slick entrance.
“I’m a master of manipulation, remember?” Goro loops both arms around Akira’s neck and meets his eyes. “I know every trick to make you do what I want.”
“Right, of course. It’s all tricks and lies with you.” Akira grabs him by the waist and pushes forward smoothly.
Goro’s breath stills as he focuses on the hard, searing length sliding into him, filling him inch by deliberate inch.
As soon as Akira is fully seated inside, they release a breath as one, fogging the narrow space between them with damp heat. Goro feels it prickle over his skin, sweat beading along his hairline and up his spine, and he shivers, clenching around the cock spearing him open.
Akira grunts, shifting his weight and ducking forward to bring their foreheads together. He presses hard, dark curls mixing with Goro’s own disordered fringe, and Goro can feel the sweat starting to glisten on Akira’s skin as well. “Sometimes I wish I could swallow you whole,” Akira confesses, more breath than voice. “I can’t—I don’t want to control you—but I—sometimes I can hardly stand it—” his hand detaches from Goro’s waist and ghosts up over the bandages on Goro’s thigh. “Letting you go out into the world—” He furrows his brow. Goro can feel the little muscles wrinkle against his forehead. “That makes me sound so—so crazy, but I—”
Goro bites the rest of his words off, tilting their mouths together in a burning kiss. He knows only too well what Akira is trying to describe, he grapples with it too: the reckless, gnawing desire to fold Akira into the hollow behind his ribs and keep him there, away from a world that will never understand him, not like he deserves, not like Goro does. And it’s pathetic and selfish. But that doesn’t stop it.
Even now, as their lips clash and Akira breathes his own breath into Goro’s lungs and Goro tangles his legs even tighter around Akira, he notes every place they touch, the fevered slide of skin both too intimate and too isolating. Akira is sunk deep in his body, pressed against him in every way possible, and still Goro is desperate for more, for the barriers of their flesh to dissolve completely, until he can curl around the light and heat and breath of the man above him. It’s a longing that circumvents reason and physics, and each movement of Akira’s mouth, Akira’s hands, sends Goro into covetous fantasies of non-euclidean anatomy.
Goro wants Akira impossibly, unscientifically, apocalyptically.
And Akira is the same. It’s evident in the possessive splay of his fingers, the greedy cut of his teeth, the patter of his racing heart as it aligns with Goro’s.
Goro grinds down on Akira’s cock, pleasure spooling tightly around his muscles. “More—” he demands against Akira’s mouth, “—give it to me, come on, Akira—fuck me—”
“Jesus fuck—” In one smooth motion, Akira captures both of Goro’s wrists and pins them to the duvet beside his head. “You never give me a—break—” He rocks back, drawing out, before thrusting forward so violently Goro feels himself slide up a few inches.
Goro’s jaw drops and his toes curl against the heat spiking through his limbs. Akira lifts himself up, pressing Goro’s wrists harder into the mattress, and pulls out again. Fingers twitching, Goro can feel his own cock lying flushed and heavy against his stomach, but any thoughts of trying to tend to it scatter at Akira’s next sharp thrust, and he arches his back, moaning.
Keeping Goro pinned, Akira sets a punishing pace, gaze dark as he drinks in the sight below him. Goro watches him right back, through slitted eyes, cataloguing the dart of Akira’s tongue against his bottom lip, the shadows cast over his face by his mussed hair, the ripple of his abdominal muscles as he angles his hips expertly on each snap forward, punching small, breathy noises out of Goro’s chest.
“God, you look so good like this,” Akira rasps. “You take me so well—”
“Made for you—” Goro almost chuckles, clenching purposefully around Akira’s cock and dragging a low groan from Akira’s throat. “You’re the—only one who can handle me—”
“That’s right.” Akira fixes Goro with a carnivorous stare, burying himself to the hilt and grinding mercilessly. “And don’t ever forget.”
Goro shivers, reveling in the burn of Akira stretching him all the way open. “How could I?” He rolls his head to the side, baring his neck and showing off the faded lovebites he knows are scattered across the skin. “When you remind me so often.”
Growling, Akira ducks his head and fastens his mouth over Goro’s pulse point, sucking hard enough to hurt, high enough that Goro will have to wear a scarf out in public, too low to hide with his hair. But it’s only fair. If Akira wants it, Goro is only too happy to give it to him. And the dull, intimate pain of Akira marking his neck shoots right to his dick.
With a last nip and a hard roll of his hips, Akira lifts up enough to bear Goro down into the mattress again, eyes fluttering closed. “I love you,” he pants. “I’ll never be able to say it—enough—I love you—I love you, Goro—”
“Akira—” Goro whines, squirming in Akira’s grip, every harsh scrape against his prostate sparking pleasure through his whole body until he can hardly speak for the spasming of his muscles. “Akira—I—”
“I love you—”
“I know—” Goro gasps. He wrenches one hand free of Akira’s clutching fingers and cups Akira’s face, jolting with each powerful thrust. Forcing Akira to meet his eyes, he drags in a shuddering breath. “Akira, I know.”
Akira’s pace falters, grey irises eclipsed by the endless black of his pupils, and Goro can feel him shaking. Then he releases Goro’s other wrist and scoops one arm under Goro’s back, crushing Goro to his chest, threading his other hand into Goro’s hair to hold him still while he slams home.
Goro keens, wrapping his arms around Akira’s shoulders and digging his nails into the skin. His cock is trapped, leaking and desperate, between their bodies, and each slide of Akira’s abdomen as he moves tightens the tension in his core almost painfully. He can’t even buck into the friction, Akira’s grip unyielding around him. Nevertheless, with every scorching snap of Akira’s hips, Goro’s nerves illuminate, until he’s sure molten light must be spilling out of his gasping mouth, seeping between his teeth and dripping into Akira’s hair where he’s buried his head in the crook of Goro’s neck.
“Ah—Akira—I’m—” Goro throws his head back, chest heaving, riding the waves of pleasure rippling from every point of contact. “I’m—close, I—ah—”
Inside him, Akira’s dick gives an undeniable twitch, and then there’s a hand under his jaw and Akira is claiming his lips in a fierce, demanding kiss. Goro hums, the sound welling up inside him without his control, vibrating into Akira’s mouth before breaking off on a cracked whimper as Akira hits his prostate at just the right angle.
His climax spreads through him like a wildfire, catching deep inside him around Akira’s pumping cock, kindling sharply, and racing through his whole body before Goro can even register what’s happening. The heat shoots up his spine, whiting out his brain, and his vision blurs, flickering as his eyes roll up. Distantly, he feels his cock pulse, releasing thick ribbons of cum onto his quivering stomach.
Akira tightens his grip around him, thrusting his tongue into Goro’s gaping mouth as his hips speed up, and Goro feels a backdraft ignite, sending him over an unseen edge. Legs locked around Akira’s waist, nails clawing mindlessly across Akira’s shoulders, Goro’s spine bows almost painfully, forcing him farther onto Akira’s length as his ass clenches rhythmically.
Without breaking the kiss, Akira stills, hips flush, trembling, and Goro dimly registers wet heat bleeding into him.
As the peak of his orgasm subsides, leaving his skin buzzing, Goro weakly pulls air into his shuddering lungs, letting his arms fall to the bed. Akira peppers glowing kisses all over his face, thrusting gently through the last shivers of his own climax, and Goro goes lax in his grip, legs dropping aside bonelessly.
Through the blissful haze settling over his thoughts, Goro can just make out the low stream of broken whispers drifting from Akira’s lips: “—love you, I love you, I love you, I love—”
Numbly, Goro leans into Akira’s ardent mouth, summoning his own hoarse voice to respond: “I love you too.”
“Here.”
Akira slides a plate of curry in front of Goro and Goro accepts the spoon he’s handed with a smile. “Thanks.”
“After you eat, you have to take your pain meds,” Akira reminds him, settling down on the opposite side of the booth in front of his own plate.
Goro scoops up a spoonful of rice and drags it through the sauce. “I don’t actually need any medicine. Nothing hurts that much.”
“Not yet, maybe, but you’ll be sore in the morning.”
Humming, Goro traces his foot up Akira’s shin. “And whose fault is that?”
Akira snaps his legs together, trapping Goro by the ankle, and smiles innocently as Goro struggles to free himself.
Giving up, Goro shoves his spoon into his mouth and slides his other foot forward to join the tangle under the table. It’s well past evening now, the sun gone from the sky, and the café is lit by a handful of overhead lamps. The soft golden glow plays in Akira’s eyes as he leans his head on his hand, relaxing his legs enough to simply hook their ankles together. He’s shirtless, and from this angle, Goro can just make out the ends of the raised red lines his own nails left across his shoulders.
“Are you sure they feel okay?” Akira asks quietly. “They looked pretty irritated.”
After gathering their wits earlier, Akira had to help Goro change the dressings on his arm and thigh, since they’d gotten lube on the bandages in their careless passion. The gash under his ribs thankfully escaped most of the unsavory fluids and didn’t reopen from the strain, but the whole collection of wounds wasn’t pretty to look at. Still, they didn’t merit nearly this level of concern.
“They’re fine,” Goro insists. “I promise I will tell you if they’re bothering me.”
Akira nods curtly and digs his spoon into his curry.
Goro watches him for a beat, lips pursed around his own spoon. Under the table, Akira’s socked toes curl and uncurl against the arch of Goro’s foot.
Setting his spoon down with a muted clink, Goro swallows. “I think I’m going to go to law school.”
Akira pauses, spoon halfway to his mouth. “What?”
“I’ve just been...considering what I want to do.” Goro shifts in his seat, tapping his foot restlessly against the knob of Akira’s ankle. “And I don’t want to work for the police for the rest of my life. My time as a detective has really helped me understand that justice system, and I feel like I would have better luck at actually helping people as a lawyer.”
“Are you sure?” Akira doesn’t sound doubtful, merely curious, as he lowers his spoon and fixes Goro with a steady gaze. “You always said that your dream was to stop bad guys, like the ones who took advantage of us.”
“The police don’t stop bad guys,” Goro scoffs. “And now that I’m older, I can see that.” He presses his lips together, scraping his spoon against his plate. “And as far as my dream—you and I both know that was mostly a weak justification for what I really wanted.” Revenge.
“Hm.”
“When I actually take time and think about what I want to do, I realize that, instead of punishing the people who hurt us, I would rather keep kids like us from ever being in those situations. I mean—” Goro sits forward on the bench, “—if either of us had one halfway decent lawyer who actually gave a shit about us, things might be really different right now.”
Akira’s eyebrows pinch together. “That’s true.”
“Is something wrong?”
Shaking his head, Akira reaches across the table and Goro meets him, letting him weave their fingers together. “I just hope this change of heart isn’t because of my...reaction to what happened today.”
“It’s not. This is something I’ve been considering for a while.” Goro runs his free hand through his hair. It’s still disordered from earlier and he has to tuck it out of his eyes. “I wouldn’t have to change much about my class schedule to switch to a law emphasis, and my law enforcement experience will help me when applying to law schools. Then I’d have to pass the bar—becoming a certified lawyer can take five-to-seven years, probably closer to seven if I want to specialize in juvenile law, but I’m already a decent way into my degree, so—” he blows out a breath. “Nothing’s certain yet.”
“Whatever you want to do.” Akira squeezes his hand. “If this feels better to you, then I’m all for it.”
“It does feel better,” Goro confesses, relieved to finally be sharing the thoughts crowding his mind for the past few weeks. “I feel better about this than about being a detective for however long I can keep that up. The police department always felt temporary anyway, like a stepping stone. I just wasn’t sure to what, and for a while I didn’t care.” Goro meets Akira’s glittering gaze. “But...being with you makes me want to care.” He shoves down an echo of the old hopelessness that used to consume him when he thought about life past his revenge plan. “You make me consider the future, Akira.”
Akira’s expression flickers, something shifting deep in his eyes. Then he rises rigidly and leans across the table. Goro tilts his head up to accept the tender kiss Akira presses to his mouth.
He tastes like spice and coffee.
“Me too,” Akira murmurs against Goro’s lips. “You make me want a future, Goro.”
“That’s good, because I’ll be dragging you with me into whatever’s waiting out there.”
Smiling, Akira brushes their noses together before lowering himself back into his seat. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. But the future can wait a little while.”
“I suppose so.” Goro reclaims his spoon. “We’ve had a long day.”
“Exactly. Eat, then bed.”
“Yes, honey.”
Akira smirks. “Speaking of, Tamura-san came by again this morning.”
Goro snorts around his mouthful of curry and swallows quickly. “Still trying to set you up with her niece?”
“She had photos this time.”
As Akira recounts the story, Goro slowly finishes his curry, savoring the warmth of Akira’s home cooking, the warmth of the dim café around them, and the warmth of their legs tangled together under the table.