Work Text:
“Come in,” Ren said as he pushed open the frosted door of LeBlanc. He beckoned his company inside with a lazy wave of his hand. The two of them stepped into the cafe, cold huffs of breath evaporating in the warmth.
Akechi rubbed his hands together and took in the atmosphere properly for the first time today. It had been so long since he’d been at LeBlanc for the sake of relaxation. Sure, he’d first come in at Sae Nijima’s recommendation (to get in her good graces, obviously), but he had to admit that a part of him had always found cafes quite lovely, and LeBlanc especially had grown dear to him. He didn’t say that aloud, though. Ren would gloat at the very notion of it.
Ren set down his jacket on the nearest chair and tied his apron. Today, LeBlanc was noticeably empty. Sojiro and Wakaba must have gone out to Akihabara with Futaba. And Morgana…
Ren shook his head. Older brother? Impossible. Having a cat as an older brother who sounded suspiciously like a white-haired character from one of Futaba’s anime games was out of the question. And worse— with Futaba as his younger sister, wouldn’t this make Ren the middle child of LeBlanc? He shuddered at this thought and began brewing coffee instead.
He’d grown a lot better at making coffee since he’d first started brewing at Sojiro’s advice. It wasn’t all that hard, and it was a pivotal part of the Thieves’ Metaverse exploration, too. Beyond that, Ren found himself at peace whenever he was brewing coffee at LeBlanc. The rich scent of beans. The worn leather seats. The chipped wood counter that Sojiro made him polish and polish again until its rough edges softened. Nothing, not even the wrongness of today, could change the comfort it brought him.
“Here,” Ren said as he set down two cups of coffee before Akechi and himself.
“Thank you.”
He took his place on Akechi’s left. To think the day would come where he could see Akechi again— the very idea of it made his heart beam.
“You’re in an awfully good mood,” Akechi said with a hint of annoyance. He didn’t spare him a glance.
“Finally getting rid of that princely facade, huh? I guess you’re getting too comfortable around this ‘attic trash,’ Mr. Ace Detective.”
Akechi shot him an icy glare and returned his attention to his coffee. “Whatever.”
Ren leaned back in his own seat and took a sip, his eyes fixed on Akechi. They hadn’t been able to talk much, what with the whole warped reality thing going on. In fact, this was the first time he’d really gotten a proper look at the detective. It wasn’t all that easy to tell what had changed about him. It looked like… everything and nothing, all at once. Maybe the way he carried himself? His posture was a little less straight— not that he was slouching, but just a little less… on guard? Almost leisurely. He let his gaze wander across Akechi’s face. That look in his eyes was a little darker, he thought, a little wearier. No less determined, but definitely void of that false twinkle it used to have. Ren tapped his fingers rhythmically on the counter. The deathly pallor of his face was a little hard to ignore.
Akechi set down his cup and sighed. “What the hell are you staring at me so longingly for? It’s creeping me out.” His words were as sharp as ever. At least that hadn’t changed.
Ren averted his gaze. “Your skin looks real pale. Haven’t been sleeping well lately?”
Akechi shot him a look. “It’s the middle of winter, obviously I wouldn’t have a tan. Seriously, Ren, you’re so—“ he grumbled something else to himself, just quiet enough for the other boy not to hear.
Ren snuck another glance at Akechi. This time, his eyes lingered on Akechi’s hands. His left hand noiselessly picked up the coffee cup off the counter. Akechi brought the rim of the cup to his lips and took a sip, soundlessly. Nobody drinks that gracefully, he thought to himself, not even Haru. It was as if Akechi had been making a conscious effort to be as elusive as possible. Or maybe it wasn’t a conscious effort?
Ren propped his face on his hand and watched closely.
Akechi was lost in thought, mindlessly tracing his right index finger in circles on the worn counter. He didn’t take off his gloves despite the warmth of LeBlanc. Maybe he’s cold? He does look like he’d be anemic… Ren absentmindedly slipped his own cold hand into his jacket pocket and paused.
He looked down at the swath of black fabric he’d pulled out— a thin, black glove. Slender, long, and fit for a right hand.
“Hey, Akechi…”
“Hm?” Akechi spared him the briefest of glances before returning his focus to the swirling abyss of coffee in his cup. His eyes weren’t as cold anymore. What is he thinking of so tenderly? Ren thought to himself. It wasn’t jealousy speaking, no. Curiosity, maybe. It was the kind of tenderness he’d had whenever he thought about Akechi. He wondered if maybe that tenderness was reciprocated.
“Are your hands always cold? You’re wearing gloves even when drinking coffee.”
Akechi leaned back against the seat, turning his head towards the frost-lined windows of the cafe. “I don’t like to get my hands dirty.”
Dirty.
He was a mass murderer, wielder of Loki, the culprit and genius who caused and solved so many cases. He’d probably gone to hell and back for his goals. Done the unthinkable. Lived a thousand lives. And yet, he was afraid of dirt somewhere as clean as LeBlanc?
“Even after all the people you’ve killed?” is what he wanted to say, but he knew Akechi wasn’t in the mood for sarcastic jokes. Not today, at least, Ren thought to himself. Not now. He couldn’t stop thinking about that look in his eyes.
“Sojiro would be sad to hear that.”
“Like I care.”
“Well, I’m sad to hear that. I do all the cleaning here, you know.”
“Honestly, Ren, that makes me all the more wary.”
Ren looked taken aback. “What the.. Okay, then. It’s heartbreaking to hear that. I think I’ll just go upstairs and curl up in a ball and cry myself to sleep or whatever,” he said, wiping away non-existent tears. He snuck Akechi a glance and saw complete and utter disgust.
Akechi’s silence was humbling.
Ren, however, did not falter under his cruelly disinterested response. There was more he had to say.
“Akechi,” he began.
“Hm?”
“What have you been doing until now? Since… you know…” Ren’s voice trailed off. He didn’t want to pressure Akechi into talking about Shido. He didn’t want to give him another reason to be distant.
“I’ve just been in my apartment, is all. Studying and whatnot. I didn’t want to be in the public eye when Shido was taking the brunt of the Phantom Thieves’ wrath. The police called me in for questioning after, and I complied. That’s all.”
Heavy silence hovered between them. Akechi had said everything and nothing at all. He was skillfully dodging the question.
“…I see,” Ren said, finally. He hoped the hesitation in his voice wasn’t obvious. A stream of questions floated around in his mind, bouncing off the walls of his consciousness and multiplying into a myriad of possibilities. How did you escape from Shido’s palace? Why won’t you tell me what happened? And, most importantly…
“What are we?”
A dreadful chill permeated the air. Ren could feel the colour leaving his face. He could just barely process his own surprise; he wasn’t supposed to say that. He couldn’t let his curiosity show. Not now, not ever. Shit… He bowed his head in an attempt to hide his embarrassment.
Akechi tossed his head back in Ren’s direction and scoffed. The dark red of his eyes were tainted with contempt. “Two people fulfilling a contract.” He set down his cup with a little too much force and stood up. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Amamiya-kun. Don’t forget our deal.”
With a quick turn of his heel, Akechi was gone. The bell did not chime him farewell; he left as quietly as he’d come.
Ren let out a sigh. The only evidence of Akechi’s presence was the dredges at the centre of the white coffee cup, staining its otherwise spotless appearance.
He took another sip of his coffee. It tasted a little more bitter than usual.