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If someone were to ask him about his relationship to one Goro Akechi, he would say ‘complicated’.
Not that he hated Akechi or that he didn’t respect him, but there had been layers to their relationship. He had been familiar to the saccharine smiles, the facade of the Detective Prince that seemed to go with him no matter where he went. The smiles had always felt fake to him, pieced together by something outside of Akechi’s control.
The Detective Prince personality as a whole had always felt fake to him, something so sickly sweet that it felt like biting into one of those rich chocolate cakes that Ann liked so much. He never exactly understood why Akechi always presented himself like that, picture perfect and something made up for the masses.
There had been something different when they hung out though. He made, somewhat clear, that he didn’t want the Detective Prince that everyone fell in love with. Akira wanted the person that rested under that, the person that Akechi actually was. He wanted the thoughtful words that led into endless conversations that burned into his brain. He wanted the competitive spirit that came from when they gathered for pool, the fire that lit in Akechi’s eyes when they played darts or chess.
It had never felt like a game when he was with Akechi.
It never felt like he had an act to put on, the teenager who kept his head down and kept quiet for all of the adults who looked at him as if he was a danger, as if he was going to do something to cause more trouble than he was worth. That was how his parents treated him, their eyes staring down at him with vitriol and malice.
But Akechi was different.
Akechi, once the masks were down and it was just them, was different from how he was when he faced the public. On TV, he saw the smiles, the laughter that seemed scripted to sound innocent. In front of him, in the comfort of Leblanc, he saw the person that rested under that. The laughter never sounded scripted, the smiles never fake.
He saw Akechi for who he was and he loved every second of it.
It wasn’t entirely surprising that it led to things happening between them, things that he regretted and didn’t. He knew that Akechi was planning on murdering him, that he was going to die and that it probably wasn’t the best idea to keep hanging out with someone who wanted him dead.
But he had never been one for sound logic when it came to Akechi.
The bond between them had been different from the bond he had with Morgana or the other Thieves. Akechi never wanted the boy who kept quiet, who put his head down and ignored the injustices of the world. Akechi wanted the boy with grit and teeth, the one who could beat him at darts and chess and pool with all of the wits that Akechi knew he had.
Akechi wanted the boy in the Metaverse, the one who looked at enemies with a wild look in his eyes, who summoned his personas with a shout to his lips and power in his lungs. Akechi didn’t want the person who was worshiped, the person that people relied on for help and advice and protection.
Akechi wanted an equal, someone who stood by him on the same ground and treated him as such.
That night in Mementos, breaths mingling and bodies tangled, is a night that he thinks he’ll never forget. He won’t forget the way Akechi looked, hair splayed against the platform as eyes half opened to stare at him. He won’t forget the way Akechi felt, skin soft and smooth. He won’t forget the way Akechi called his name, passion and something that felt like heated love leaving his lips.
He won’t forget the glove tossed at his chest, Akechi’s eyes burning as he told Akira how much he hated him.
He certainly didn’t think it was hate when Akechi called out his name in the Metaverse, back arched up from the ground, but he wasn’t going to make Akechi hate him more than he already did. He wasn’t going to rebut Akechi’s feelings, not when he could tell that Akechi was already having a hard time dealing with what they had going on between each other.
He certainly wasn’t going to do it when Akechi shot him in the head, gun pressed against his forehead as the teenager smiled down at him with something close to his real self.
In hindsight, he kinda hated how hot it was, but he would rather be shot in the head again before he even utters a word about it. He hates that Akechi can make him feel like this, the teetering between love and hate, the want to be with him and the want to pull him apart to see what really lies under there.
He knows that if the other Thieves knew about how he felt, there would be judgement, questions about his taste in men that seemed far too questionable to ignore. So, quiet about it he keeps. He doesn’t utter a word about what happened between them in Mementos and the glove in his pocket stays hidden, kept only to himself to look at when no one else is around.
At least, that is until their fight in Shido’s palace.
He didn’t expect to see Akechi here, dressed in Metaverse attire to stand on the other side of them, firmly cementing himself as their enemy. He didn’t expect for it to hurt when Akechi talks about himself as if there’s no hope left for him, as if he’s too far gone to have a happy ending or a chance of salvation.
Akira’s seen the best and the worst of Akechi, seen parts of him that Akechi would never show to others. For him to say, to agree, that Akechi doesn’t deserve to be saved would be wrong. He’s seen the teenager that sat in the bathhouse with him, voice soft as he talked about his mother dying.
He doesn’t think that Akechi deserves to be ruined by Shido just like his mother was.
But he knows, somewhere, that Akechi isn’t going to listen to reason, isn’t going to believe them no matter how much they mean it. Akira is well aware of the very mixed feelings the Thieves have towards Akechi, but even they can agree on one thing: Akechi deserves to be saved as much as they did.
Akechi is a troubled teenager, a child ruined by systems and hurt by those that were supposed to love and protect him. He can see parts of all of them in Akechi, the parts of them that came from the same adults that hurt all of them. It makes him want to drill it into Akechi’s head that he deserves help, that he isn’t far gone, that there is still something left even if Akechi himself doesn’t believe it.
And yet, somehow, when Black Mask finally goes down, when Akechi’s mask finally cracks and he can see the hope they have for him, he thinks that this might finally have a happy ending.
That is, until the cognitive version of Akechi comes out from the shadows. From first glance, he can already tell that something is wrong with it. The eyes are lifeless, blank and dull. The face is equally so, his voice lowered into something akin to disdain. The cognition pulls a gun out from it’s pocket, aiming it directly at Akechi.
He steps forward, tempted to get between the two of them but he stops himself.
“...I’ll deal with the rest of you later.” The cognitive Akechi says before turning his attention back to the real version. “Captain Shido’s orders… He has no need for losers. Well… This just moves the plan up a little. He was going to get rid of you after the election anyway.”
Something freezes inside of his chest, cold and scared.
Akechi’s brows furrow, teeth clenched. “What?!”
“Did you truly believe that you’d be spared after all the murders you undertook.” The cognition shakes its head. “Don’t tell me… Were you actually feeling good about having someone rely on you for once? Oh by the way, the captain says it’s time you received retribution for causing the mental shutdowns. Unfortunate, considering the little secret you have.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Akechi’s face pales.
Skull stomps his foot, gaining the cognition’s attention. “What the hell, man!? That bastard’s the one who put him up to it!”
“And what secret are you talking about?” Queen questions.
Akechi slowly rises to his feet, attempting to stand straight before hunching over. A laughter falls from his lips. “...I see. I was wondering how he’d protect himself if I used my powers to tear through his palace. Turns out you’re how. So he’s making a puppet kill me… Sounds like something he’d do.”
The question is seemingly glossed over by Akechi, the answer currently unanswered and Queen looks over to him, her eyes containing her own questions.
The cognition nods. “That’s right. I’ll do anything. But look at yourself… You’re the true puppet. You wanted to be acknowledged, didn’t you? To be loved? You’ve been nothing but a puppet from the very beginning.”
For a singular moment, he wonders how much Shido knew about his and Akechi’s moment in Mementos, of how much got back to him. The urge to grab Akechi and pull him towards them is fierce, but he knows how dangerous that would be. The cognition could easily fire the gun, killing Akechi before he’s even had a chance to reform himself.
Ryuji growls. “You little…”
“So this…” Queen’s gaze turns to the cognitive version of Akechi, shock and disgust clear on her face. “is how Shido thinks of Goro Akechi? It’s… It’s too horrible!”
For once, he thinks both him and Akechi can agree with that.
“It’s not too late! We can still change his heart together!” Noir yells to Akechi. “Even if he’s your father… No, because he’s your father!”
The cognitive Akechi growls at her. “What’s all this nagging about? Want me to take care of you first?”
Shadows appear around Akechi and the cognitive version of himself, a gasp leaving his lips. This time, he takes a step forward, stopping when he’s ahead of the group.
“You know what? I’ll let someone volunteer to take his place. Who knows, you might delay his death.” The cognition smiles, lips wide and teeth shiny. “You guys are all about doing things for others, aren’t you? Oh, that’s just the same as me. I’m going to take all the blame for our captain. I’ll die for him too.”
Joker swallows, anger filling his chest. “So this is how Shido really sees Akechi…”
The cognition ignores him, pulling his attention back to Akechi. “Here, I’ll give you one last chance. Shoot them.”
He catches Akechi’s gaze, maroon eyes looking back at him. Akechi closes his eyes, cutting off any possible silent conversation between them. “Haha… I was such a fool.”
Akechi’s eyes open again, stare harsh as he summons his gun, pointing it at his heart. The cognition laughs, proud that Akechi is finally being what Shido wishes that he was before the Thieves tried getting to him. He grits his teeth, ready to defend himself when Akechi turns, aiming the gun at the cognition and shooting.
Two gunshots ring and both Akechi and the cognition are holding parts of their body. The distraction gives enough time for Akechi to shoot a lever behind them, a voice ringing overhead that the engine room doors are shutting. Giant metal walls slowly fall from the ceiling, Akechi staring back at him with something akin to an exhausted smile.
Something inside of him panics, a feeling that he hasn’t felt before and he launches the hook in his glove, shooting himself past the tiny gap in the doors to make it over to the other side. He rolls, grinding to a stop behind a shocked Akechi and a highly pissed off cognition.
He wraps his fingers around his mask, summoning one of his personas to have a healing spell wash over Akechi. The blue light of the Mediarahan washing over Bla– Crow, the heart over his body fading away. The Thieves yell from the other side of the door, but he ignores them, moving to put his back against Crow’s.
“Can you still fight?” He asks, pulling out his dagger. “I think we might be able to do this, but I need your help.”
Crow stares at him as if he’s lost his mind and for a moment, he thinks that he might have. Instead of saying something scathing, Crow straightens, a hiss leaving his lips as the scar of the bullet wound pulls at his skin.
“Don’t fall behind.”
It’s all the command he needs before he launches himself at the cognitive version of Akechi. The cognition shoots the gun, getting him in the shoulder before he slashes the blade of his dagger through the shadow. It vanishes in a veil of ash, crumbling away in front of him. He turns his attention back to the other shadows, finally moving to help Akechi dispose of them.
The fight is barely a fight with the two of them, injured yet still standing. He falls to the ground, letting out a breath as he can still hear his friends calling for him.
“I’m fine! We’re fine!” He finally yells, pretending that he can hear the sighs of relief. “Oracle, can you open the door?”
There’s a moment of silence. “Nope! I can’t hack into it to get it open!”
He groans. “Alright, new plan: Let’s meet up in front of the doors to the treasure! We already have all of the letters, all we need to do is get the doors open and send the calling card! Crow and I will find a way back to you guys!”
He waits until he hears Oracle’s confirmation to look over at Crow. The teenager stares at him with something between anger and confusion with a hint of frustration. He can feel the words Crow wants to say to him, but he can see the effort that it takes to bite his tongue. He stands up from the ground, pocketing his dagger.
“I assume that you know a way to the treasure room from here?”
Crow rolls his eyes. “Of course.”
He’s led to a vent not too far from them, the passage leading them to a set of hallways that should get them to where they need to go. He decides to let Crow go first, crawling behind him at a decent pace despite the ache in his shoulder.
He should probably get that fixed.
“Why?” Crow’s voice echoes in the vent, tone tight. “Why did you do that for me?”
There’s a lot of answers he could give, all of them ranging in different forms of love that he’s sure Crow doesn’t want to hear right now. If there was a simplest answer that he could give, it was that he couldn’t imagine living in a world that didn’t have Crow in it.
“I wanted to.” He settles, watching as Crow slowly hops out of the vent. “Nothing more than that.”
The look Crow shoots him from the broken piece of his mask tells him that Crow is far from content with that answer, but having an argument when they’re supposed to be getting out of here isn’t going to do them any favors.
“What about you?” He asks. “Why did you shoot down those doors?”
Crow stops, looking over his shoulder to glare at him. The emotions in Crow’s eyes are varied, wild in their interpretations and he wonders what is going through the other’s head. “The same as you.”
The answer is chipped, like Crow is trying to imply something that he doesn’t quite understand. Crow has always been a complex person, filled with his own values and morals and thoughts that he wishes that he knew more about. He hates that Crow is putting back up all of the masks that fell after their battle, the barriers that once separated them only thicker.
It’s frustrating and also unsurprising.
The hallways are silent, barely filled with shadows which leaves them with unsaid words and untouched conversations. His mind flirts back to the cognition, the untold secret that was floating in the air between them. He still wants to know what it is, if it’s something that he needs to worry about.
He hates the idea that he might have put Akechi in danger, that the times that he hung out floated back to the man who wants them both dead. He turns his head to stare at Akechi, but stops when he isn’t in front of him like he should be. Panic fills his chest and he hopes that he wasn’t following a ghost when he hears a clatter behind him.
He whips around, ready to pull off his mask when he finds Crow on the ground, kneeling on all fours. His helmet is tossed to the side, tiny bits of his mask littering the ground. Akechi’s breath is heavy, thick with… he can’t really tell.
He steps forward, mouth opening to call out to Akechi when he hears a gag. Blood colored vomit leaves Akechi’s lips, pooling under him. He abandons the principle of being quiet, sliding his mask up into his hair as he rushes over. He falls to one knee, hand nearly touching Akechi’s bangs when his hand is smacked away.
“Stop.” Akechi’s voice is chipped even more, now more definable by the nausea that seeps into his tone. “Just stop.”
The command hurts, especially when all he wants to do is make sure that Akechi isn’t dying on him. But he does what he’s told, keeping his hands to himself until the teenager says otherwise. He loves and hates that only Akechi does this to him, turns him into a puddle of worry that only wants to soothe and comfort instead of encourage and defend.
He wonders if Akechi feels the same.
Akechi, finally done vomiting out his guts, leans into the wall next to him, arms wrapped around his stomach. Slowly, he lifts his hand, connecting it to Akechi’s shoulder to test the waters. The detective doesn’t do anything aside from sniffling, running the back of his hand under his nose. As if he can’t help but push the limits of their bond, he pulls Akechi backwards, letting his body fall into his chest.
His arm wraps around Akechi’s shoulders, the teen’s head resting against his own as the detective stares at the puddle of vomit on the floor.
“Akechi? Are you okay?” He mutters. “Are you still–”
“This is your fault.” Akechi mutters back, tone biting with resentment. “This is all your fault.”
Confusion filters across his face. “What did I do?”
The question only seems to piss off Akechi more, brows furrowing as if he has a unibrow. The growl that leaves his lips is animalistic, close to ripping off his head and feasting on it. A part of him urges him to move away, lest Akechi actually attempt to murder him a second time.
“You and your fucking baby…” Akechi whispers as if his mere existence were a curse itself. “...Fuck.”
His mind halts, stops like a car slamming on the breaks.
A baby… Akechi… Baby… His baby…
If this had been a different situation with a different person, he might have reacted more quicker, might have said something to take away the silence of the moment. But right now, with Akechi, he feels brainless, mind focused on the four little words that rolled from Akechi’s lips. He can’t tell if it’s shock or surprise, but he feels something and he can’t tell which one it is.
The movement in his arms snaps him from the void of his thoughts, pulling him back to the present time. Akechi’s arm rests over his eyes, shielding himself from the world. His other arm still rests over his stomach, nails of his gauntlet digging into his belly. His mind, still iced over, thaws for him to form words.
“You’re… pregnant?”
Akechi’s arm falls from his eyes, a glare that looks like it could and would kill him decorating his face. “Yes, you moron. Did you think I threw up just for show?”
“I was just asking, Akechi.” He rolls his eyes before looking down at him. “When did you find out that you were… You know?”
The word feels awkward to him, something new and overwhelming, but he can’t find it in himself to hate it. He never imagined having a child with Akechi of all people, never expected for their night in Mementos to actually make something between them, but he… doesn’t dislike it as much as he thought.
He knows that Akechi feels differently than he does, his gaze looking down at his stomach as if he could rip the baby out of them by sheer force. He links their hands together, the clawed gauntlets digging into his gloves. Akechi, surprisingly, only clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes.
“I found out a few days after I shot you.” The teen answers. “I thought about getting rid of it before Shido found out, but I guess that’s useless.”
Something like hope flares in his chest. “You.. wanna keep it?”
“Oh absolutely not.” Akechi scoffs like the idea itself is insulting. “The last thing I want is to be chained down with your baby.”
The word ‘your’ sounds like a curse, an existence so offensive to Akechi’s own life that he can’t help but want it gone. The part of him that had hope quickly dies, leaving behind the realistic part of himself that nearly caves into Akechi’s wishes.
“Is… there a reason why?”
Instantly, Akechi pushes himself off the floor, grabbing his helmet and walks off in the other direction, continuing down the hallway. He jumps up to his feet, pulling his mask back down as he runs to catch up.
“Akechi, stop.”
Akechi responds by putting back on his helmet, firmly ignoring him and his words. Crow, if possible, walks even faster, lengthening the distance between them. Crow has always been fast, impressively so, but this time, he finds it hard to keep up. Crow moves through the hallways with haste, avoiding him and the conversation at all costs.
It’s annoying as it is commendable.
But avoidances can’t happen without confrontation and they encounter shadows in one of the hallways, weak ones that don’t put up much of a fight but are grouped in a decently sized number. They aren’t any match for him and Arsene, but he can tell that Crow is having a hard time on his own.
The slashes he makes with his sword are more wild, less graceful and refined than they once were. The look in Crow’s eyes is just as so, tinged with something that he can’t name from over here.
“Crow, you need to talk to me!”
He wants to talk. He wants to have this conversation. He wants to be by Crow’s side and support him in whatever he wants to do. If Crow wants to stay by his side and have the baby, then he’ll do it. If Crow wants to keep the baby and have nothing to do with him, then he’ll do it. If Crow wants to get rid of the baby and pretend that nothing happened between them, then he’ll do it.
If Crow wants to get rid of the baby and leave town, to cut him out of his life and block his number and treat his existence like the blight that it is, then he’ll do it.
He just wants to talk.
Crow, as usual, does not agree with his viewpoint and he wonders if their relationship is going to be like this, if Crow is going to treat him with the same hatred that he’s held for Shido. He swallows back that heartbreak to unpack it for later when he has the time to dissect it like he should have from the very beginning.
“Crow!”
“I’M SCARED!” The scream isn’t a scream as it is a breaking of sound, a ripping of the truth to leave behind confessions. Crow whips around, the look in his eyes finally clear. Fear and terror dance inside of them, a waltz of emotion that hurts both of them. “I’M FUCKING SCARED!”
He doesn’t think that he’s ever seen Crow this scared, this terrified out of his mind before. It wretches his heart, tugs and pulls like a set of chains against wrists begging to be freed. The shadow that he’s been fighting turns to dust, black ash making him look more unhinged. The ground around them is covered in it, dusting the carpet like dirt.
“I’m scared…” Crow’s voice is quieter now that it’s just them, isolation and silence aiding them. “...I can’t have this baby, Joker, I can’t. Whenever I think about having it, I see… I think of my mother, about how she must have felt when she was having me. Did she love me? Did she hate me? Did she want me gone?”
He steps over the dust, closing the space to stand in front of Crow. From here, he can see the anger that covers the fear, the teeth that bite down on the hand keeps people from understanding him. He doesn’t know much about Crow’s mother aside from the fact that the years she raised Crow were harsh, curated by a woman trying to make ends meet while trying to care for a son neither of them know if she ever wanted.
What he does know, what he hopes for, is that his mother loved Crow more than Joker can even imagine, cared about him despite being unsure if she ever wanted Crow at all.
“Are you…” He hesitates, trying to find the right words. “...afraid of becoming like your mother?”
Crow looks away from him, gaze aimed at the ash. “...And if I was?”
The implication in Crow’s words are clear as bright morning skies and he reaches out for Crow, grabbing his hand to keep him in place. He knows that they don’t have the time to be wasting on something like this, that the others are waiting from them at the treasure and are probably wondering where they are, but he isn’t leaving Crow like this, isn’t leaving them like this.
“Crow… Akechi, I’m not going to leave you like Shido did.” Distantly, he wonders what life would have been like if Shido actually stayed with Akechi’s mother. Would he have abused them both, made them both walk the line that looked oddly like a noose? Would Akechi still have gone down the path that he did, revenge boiling his blood? Would Shido have been a better person, would have treated them like people instead of paws?
He wishes that he knew.
“You don’t know that.” Akechi rips his hand away, the connection between them now disconnected. The look on his face is one of upset, of broken promises littered around his feet. “You say that now, but what are you going to do when this baby finally comes? Stay and help raise it like the paradigm of goodness you are?”
The tone is sarcastic, bitter in every letter, but it doesn’t make him turn away like Akechi hopes that it would. Instead, it makes him step closer, the space between them small as he presses his forehead to Akechi’s helmet.
“Yes, I would.” The admission is the most confident thing he’s said thus far, feeling more like himself. “I would stay and raise it with you because that’s my child too, Akechi. I would stay because unlike Shido, I love you with every fiber of my being. I’m not going to look at our baby and leave you to die like he did. I’m not going to hate you if you want to give up for adoption or if you want to get an abortion.”
He locks their hands again, wishing that he could remove the gauntlets to feel soft flesh. “I want you, Akechi, with or without a baby. I’m not leaving you. That’s why I saved you: I didn’t want to live a life that didn’t have you in it.”
The look Akechi gives him is unknown, layered with emotions and things that burn his tongue. Akechi stares at him, long and hard, before pulling away. Their hands are still linked as he walks forward, the tips of his claws digging into his palms.
“Come on, your stupid little friends are waiting for us.”
He smiles, matching Akechi’s pace. “ Our friends.”
━━━━━━━
The human soul is an odd thing.
No one knows how it works or what it does, of what it contains and why it beats like a heart inside a person, just that it is there and that it exists. Some say that the human soul is a part of the brain, the lifeforce keeping someone alive. Others say that it is a gift from God, His grace living inside every human being.
Whatever it is, his soul is telling him that something is wrong.
Slowly, his eyes open to the darkness of his room, the spot behind him cold and messy. Akira looks over his shoulder, the light from downstairs making its way up into the attic. He sits up, glancing over at Morgana who sleeps soundly at the bottom of the bed. It’s clear who is missing but he’s still left wondering why.
The bed creeks as he gets out of it, the cold wooden floors making his body shiver. He wonders if he can ask Sojiro to bring a heater into the room before winter starts to really set in. He walks down the stairs, the feeling getting stronger until he finally finds what he’s looking for. Akechi is curled on the floor of the bathroom, arms wrapped around his stomach as a glass of water sits in front of him, barely finished.
Something about his approach makes Akechi move, his hair falling over his shoulder as he looks up. A groan leaves his lips the moment their eyes connect, Akechi quickly turning his head away.
“...Leave me alone…” Akechi mutters, burying his face into the tiles.
He kneels down on the floor, firmly ignoring Akechi’s demand to place his hand on his arm. Instantly, Akechi shoots up from the tiles, hand splayed across his mouth in a tight grip. He can see the fight in Akechi’s face, the tug of war between him and his stomach that ends with Akechi’s head over the toilet, bile leaving his lips. The retching is painful, tears running down Akechi’s cheeks as he chokes on a gag.
He lets his hand slide off from the teen’s arm, moving to get up from the floor. Morgana, shockingly alert for this time of night, peeks into the bathroom to see what is going on. The look on the cat’s face is something akin to worry, a soft meow leaving him. Morgana, even more shockingly, plants himself next to Akechi, watching the tears roll down the detective’s cheeks as he sobs into his arms.
Guilt punches him in the face, an Akechi-sized bruise forming on his skin. While he’s well aware that he isn’t the cause for the other’s morning sickness, he is the reason for it, and that is enough for him to do something about it. He runs back up the stairs, grabbing his wallet and throwing on some slippers before running back down.
He peeks his head into the bathroom, finding Akechi laying back down on the floor, curled tighter around himself. “I’m going to get something from the vending machines. Are you gonna be okay by yourself?”
Akechi nods, wordless as Morgana loafs at his lower back. He grabs the keys for Leblanc, unlocking the door and stepping out into the cold air. It’s chilly, but not enough to make him regret bringing a jacket. It makes goosebumps roll up his arms as he walks to the nearest vending machine, looking over the selection.
He settles for a sparkling water and a diet soda, hoping that one of them will settle with Akechi’s fragile stomach. He also grabs a tiny bag of plain chips, once again with the hopes that it won’t make the detective sick. He takes his time walking back, hoping that the peace and quiet might help Akechi feel better.
If he’s being honest with himself, he really didn’t expect for him to accept the offer to stay at Leblanc for the night while they figure out what they want to do with him. They can’t let him go back to his apartment, lest Shido’s men find out that he’s actually alive and not as dead as they thought that he was. But they also can’t let him go on his own due to the present issue of the baby.
If he’s also being honest with himself, he really didn’t expect for the Thieves to accept the fact that Akechi was pregnant with his baby. He expected anger, expected for them to freak out on him and walk out, but they didn’t. There was definitely questioning, specifically about his taste in men and why he had sex with Akechi of all people, but there was a decent amount of acceptance.
That is, if he ignored the glares that Haru directed into Akechi’s back as he sat at one of the booths with his head planted firmly into the table.
He walks back into Leblanc, seeing the light in the bathroom left on for him to find his way back without tripping over anything. Akechi, unsurprisingly, is missing from the tiles, the space still warm, but empty. He shuts off the light and locks the door to the cafe, heading upstairs to see if he can find his…
That’s a topic he’ll tackle later.
Both Akechi and Morgana are back in bed, the cat curled above the other’s head as the blankets are pulled up to Akechi’s chin, a bucket resting next to the bed that he’s almost sure he has to clear later. He shakes the detective’s arm, waiting for him to open his eyes before he presents him with the drinks.
“You pick which one you want.” He whispers. “I got two drinks in case one of them doesn’t agree with you.”
Akechi plucks the sparkling water from his fingers, popping open the can and taking a small sip. He puts it down on the floor, moving back under the covers. For a moment, Akechi looks cute like this, tired and small, before he’s instantly smacked with the reminder that Akechi is only like this because he’s pregnant.
He climbs into the bed, laying himself behind Akechi. He fuses with the blankets, getting comfortable. He stares at the wall, listening to the slow breaths behind him.
“I told Takemi that I’m coming to see her with someone who needs her help.” He whispers. “It’s your choice what you want to do after that.”
He hears shuffling behind him. “So if I want to get rid of this little bastard, you would be okay with that?”
“Yes.” He ignores the ache in his heart, the want in his chest for a tiny little version of Akechi in his arms. “I would be okay with it.”
“Hm.”
Silence falls over them again, the wind blowing against the chimes before he closes his eyes. He’s halfway between being asleep and being awake when he hears Akechi shuffle again, the sound of the sparkling water being lifted up and then being put back down moments later.
“And if…” Akechi starts, stopping just a moment later. “...I wanted to keep the baby, would you be okay with that too?”
He rolls over, pressing his lips to the back of Akechi’s shoulder. “Yes, I would.”
He doesn’t know what Akechi is asking, doesn’t know what Akechi wants, doesn’t know if Akechi has decided or not, but he means what he said in the palace. He would stand by whatever Akechi wanted, whatever he decided. He dares himself to wrap his arms around Akechi’s middle, left hand pressed into his stomach.
The land of the detective’s belly is flat, barely anything there to indicate that there’s a baby, their baby, growing inside of him. Akechi doesn’t move, body tense like a coil before it soothes back into something more relaxed.
“Okay.”
He closes his eyes again, forehead leaned against Akechi’s back, sleep slowly coming to him.
“I’ll believe you… just this once.”