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Akira hadn't thought seeing him in person would affect him as much as it does. After all, he's had two months to mentally prepare himself for this moment.

And yet, the sight of Goro Akechi, alive and in the flesh, perfectly put-together and looking like he was made to sit under the studio lighting, makes him feel... some kind of way. Unsettled, for sure, knowing what he knows now. Then again, there's a part of him that hasn't stopped feeling unsettled since he first (well, perhaps first isn't accurate) jolted awake to find himself on the train to Yongen-Jaya again. In one piece. Not bleeding out on the ground with a megalomaniacal pseudo-god bearing down on him. And, most importantly, as the only one with any recollection of all they'd been through.

It doesn't take Akira long to come to the most logical conclusion: That somewhere along the line, he screwed up. Somehow, it hadn't been enough, and now he has an opportunity to fix it—which would be a lot easier if he were to have some notion of what, specifically, he needs to fix, or even if this is a one-time deal.

At first, he tries copying his previous motions as closely as possible. People always talk about their regrets like they would change them in a heartbeat, given the chance, but the thought of altering the timeline as he knows it is overwhelming. The more Akira steps away from his previous path, the less accurate his existing knowledge may become, the bigger the chance that he may miss something important from the first time around.

That reasoning goes out the window pretty quickly. Akira finds that he can't watch Shiho Suzui jump off that building again, can't go through hearing that agony in Ann's voice a second time when he can so easily prevent it. So he stops her. It's what the Phantom Thieves would do. And things change... but not in a way that affects the flow of events in any profound way. Ann still stumbles after them into the Metaverse and finds the conviction to awaken her persona, somehow. He's not sure how it works out, but it does. What Akira does know is that fate is what you make of it. If he believes in his teammates, they'll end up where they need to be.

But for all of that, he still wavers as they're leaving the recording area. Up until now, the decisions to change things have been easy. Akechi, on the other hand... where to start? Is it even salvageable? Akira's not certain, but when he thinks of their last meeting in Shido's palace, Akechi's remark about the possibility of them meeting a few years earlier, the sounds of gunshots echoing from the other side of the bulkhead—he can't not try. It's not years, but maybe this handful of months will be enough.

Akira lets Ann go ahead with a nod, sliding his hands into his pockets as he tries to maintain his usual casual demeanor. Any moment now...

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As if this turn of events hasn't boosted his spirits enough, the subtle shift in Akechi's demeanor makes the moment that much sweeter. Akira notes the small step inward, putting them almost shoulder-to-shoulder. The urge to reach for Akechi's hand strikes him, a desire to indulge in the warmth of his skin now that he knows it would probably be well-received. He shelves the impulse for now. At least while they're out in the street, anyway. Akira might not be the type to be bothered by what random pedestrians think, but he knows Akechi takes more care with his public image, and he's still plenty recognizable.

Instead, he just glances over with eyebrows quirked behind his unkempt fringe, and—yeah, the smile is still there. "Does that mean we can consider this a first date?" he asks, taking the implication in Akechi's remark.

Akechi, too, is taken by that urge, but he ends up shoving his hands in his pockets to counter it. Caring about something besides his image doesn't mean he's stopped caring about his image.

... It sure would be nice, though. Akechi is actually glad for the distraction that comes with answering Akira's question.

"It would be a waste not to, wouldn't it?" And while Akechi doesn't consider himself romantic, he still thinks the situation is too good to pass up. "And there's no sense in delaying if we don't have to." And maybe, just maybe, he's too excited by this new thing he suddenly has to not want to go all in.

"I like the way you think." His tone is light, thankfully lacking the bittersweet feeling that's rising up from the pit of his stomach. Delaying this would've pushed it back to... who even knows. Akira wonders if he's just made what's going to happen tomorrow that much harder for the both of them, but it's not something he can bring himself to regret. Not when they've apparently both wanted this for a while.

But there will be plenty of time to think about things after tonight. He curtails the thoughts and lets a comfortable silence settle over them for the rest of the walk, until Akechi's lead finally brings their destination into sight. There is indeed a wait to get a table, but even the prospect of standing around in the cold together is oddly exciting.

"How long is 'a while'?" Akira asks after they've been standing for a moment, a sudden reference to the conversation not too long ago.

Despite his chattiness Akechi's never been one to complain about comfortable silences, but right now he feels especially content to let one settle over the two of them. He handles talking to the restaurant and getting themselves a spot in line (the hostess recognizes him, and he's privately hoping it might earn them slightly faster service) but after that he's only too happy to go right back to standing with Akira. He's glad he's thought to bring both of them coats, though.

The question catches Akechi off guard and leaves him feeling... he isn't sure. Not quite embarrassed, but maybe a bit shy. It's not something he's used to feeling, and he covers it up by looking thoughtful.

"Since the day we ran into each other outside the Diet building." The vagueness is partly to avoid saying anything sensitive in public and partly because pinpointing the exact moment is pretty difficult; so much had happened that day that retracing the path his emotional state took is tricky. Even if he could say when exactly he realized it, he's still not sure when it started. Much like Robin Hood, it had simply been there once he looked for it. And normally he might not admit to that, but now... "But it's hard to say. It doesn't feel like my thoughts on you have changed that much."

Ran into each other... that's one way to put it. Akira knows he's being particular with his words on purpose, but the phrasing makes it sound almost humorously casual compared to the complete panic he felt when he saw Akechi there. He can't recall ever experiencing it on that level before, not when coming to months in the past, nor even in the engine room last time.

And speaking of the encounter in engine room—isn't that where this started for Akira? Unlike Akechi, he can pinpoint the moment where his thoughts shifted, and while he doesn't think they were quite romantic, it's what started all of this. It didn't click until recently, but something changed after that encounter, as if seeing the potential of an alternate path for Akechi. One where, maybe if Akira opened himself up and listened a little more, the outcome could be different.

"So since always?" The words are teasing but not maliciously so, eyes a warm counterpoint to the chill biting at his cheeks. It certainly adds another layer to the moments they spent together after that. He carried Akechi up the stairs, after all.

Even now that he's giving this honesty thing a shot, Akechi can't bring himself to admit to everything he felt back when they 'ran into each other'. The fear, the frustration, the uncertainty about his fate, the certainty that their friendship would end, and the haze of pain and adrenaline that had made everything seem more urgent in what was already a crisis.

"Probably not." The words might be harsh, but Akechi's tone is humored instead of cutting. "I didn't know what I thought of you for a while." That's why his interest had persisted for as long as it had. Akechi is used to being able to make an easy, immediate judgement on nearly everyone he meets - even the other Phantom Thieves. He's not above adjusting his judgements later, but Akira's the first person he's ever taken the time to figure out first. "Maybe it was just too gradual for me to realize."

The simmering resentment that's colored so many of his interactions with Akira certainly hadn't helped, but that's definitely not something he wants to bring up.

Akira laughs at the characteristically blunt response. That's about what he expected, really. It feels like ages ago now, but he can recall those first couple of months where it felt like nothing he said or did could truly break through Akechi's carefully composed exterior.

"Probably." Feelings are like that, especially the complex ones like this, but Akira imagines Akechi doesn't have a ton of experience in this arena. Not if he's the first person he's ever gotten close to. "It took me a while to realize it, too," he admits. By the time Akira became aware of the nature of his own emotional investment, it was far too late to turn back—not that he's the type to, even when faced with the challenge of having a thing for the most complicated person he knows.

Akira is right about Akechi's lack of experience, though it's closer to 'none' than 'not a ton'. He can't remember the last time he had feelings for someone that were more complicated than 'obnoxious, but useful'.

The admission that Akira hadn't been able to figure it out isn't something Akechi is expecting to hear, though.

"That's surprising." Especially considering that Akira's been working with a cheat sheet this whole time. "You're good at understanding other people, so it's hard to imagine you not noticing something about yourself."

"I guess I never really considered it a possibility." Which he doesn't intend to be a statement about Akechi's viability as an object of his affections, so he continues to explain, "The circumstances surrounding you were different from most of my other friends. I chalked it up to that."

His thoughts on people are usually straightforward, but with Akechi they've long become excessively complex. Looking back, it's not too surprising that it got lost in all of that. Akira never really expected to develop feelings for his once-attempted-murderer, anyway.

It might not be intended as commentary on Akechi's viability as a romantic partner, but that's how he takes it. It doesn't upset him, though. He's almost psyched himself out of the friendship enough times, convinced he'd be set aside again, that knowing Akira hadn't originally considered him a candidate doesn't catch him off guard.

Especially not with the suspicions that Akechi has about what Akira may have experienced last time. Akechi had been planning to kill the Phantom Thieves before his affection for Akira shattered those plans to pieces, and he hasn't forgotten the desperate urgency with which he'd told himself, several times, to simply kill Akira anyway. He has a pretty good idea of what he might have done if their relationship had developed differently.

But now matter how curious he is he can't bring that up here. So he sidesteps the thought in favor of something more humorous for the moment.

"I can't imagine any of the others announced their intentions to hunt you down on national TV."

The humorous take on it has Akira tucking his chin towards his chest with a brief chuckle, the sound leaving a visible puff in the cold air. "Not quite."

When Akechi puts it like that, it sounds extremely cliched. The detective and the thief... Although, it would be a lie to say that there hadn't been a smidgen of appeal in that, the cat-and-mouse game, under the guilt of knowingly lying to him. But that could just be Akira's penchant for chasing thrills talking.

"Turns out you caught me, just not in the way you were expecting," he points out, mirth in his gaze as he looks back up at Akechi. It only grows as he continues, resisting the urge to take a step closer. "What are you going to do with me now that you have me, detective?"

Akechi suddenly realizes that as much as he knows how to joke and tease, he has no idea how to flirt. It's not a technique he's ever relied on, not even to build his public image. Which is unfortunate because this feels like a moment where it would really be appropriate bit...

Maybe another time. Akechi's at least good at keeping his expression in check, so he wears one of mild amusement that isn't at all reflective of his sudden battle with self-doubt.

"I should turn you into the police." They both know that's not going to happen, though, so Akechi doesn't feel weird about 'threatening' it. "But it seems more interesting to take matters into my own hands."

It only hits him after the words come out that he's not quite sure how Akechi will react to flirting. Sure, they've joked around plenty, but there's never been the layer of intent behind it that brings it to this level.

So Akira is happy when he seems to play along with it, at least. Although... the chosen response hits upon an exposed nerve that Akechi couldn't possibly have seen. You won't have to, he thinks grimly. The guilt that comes along with lying to Akechi really shouldn't feel so familiar as it buffets his mood again.

He's determined not to let it ruin the rest of the night, however. Akira raises a hand to run his fingers through his hair as he considers the playful threat. "Vigilante justice, huh? I think I've been a bad influence on you."

If Akechi had known it was there, there's not chance he'd joke about it. In fact, there's no chance they'd even be here right now. He'd have handcuffed Akira to his bed, but not in a fun way.

"Sometimes the unorthodox methods are more interesting." Especially when it comes to dealing with someone like Akira. Probably because he's the source of such unorthodox desires. "Don't think of it as bad influence, though. It's more like... you expanded my horizons."

"Definitely a bad influence," he laughs.

It's anything but, though, and Akira knows it. He's seen the way things would've gone if he'd just left Akechi be. And while Akira would never go as far as to take credit for 'changing' him, he does think that their bond opened Akechi's eyes to another side that was sleeping there the entire time.

Akira shrugs a shoulder as if it can't be helped, stuffing his hand back into his coat pocket. "I'll just have to see how else I can expand them. We have a lot of firsts ahead of us." Hopefully that's not a presumptuous thing to say. Akira puffs out a breath and glances towards the entrance.

It's extremely presumptuous, but hearing Akira make those presumptions is just exciting. It's weird for Akechi to actually feel good about his future, rather than cautious but determined. He actually has to rein in on those feelings a little, before he does something embarrassing.

"It sounds like you can't wait to get started... but I can't say I don't feel the same way." And while normally Akechi is happy to finally be out of line, he's a little disappointed when they get called over almost immediately after his reply. The date ends up being enjoyable anyway, though. It isn't much different from one of their regular outings, but there's a new undercurrent to their interactions that, somehow, makes simple conversation even more engaging than it already was.

It's strange, but it's nice, and Akechi doesn't feel obligated to break the flow of the conversation until they're almost done.

"Did you have any thoughts on where to go next?" Honestly, Akechi thinks he could sit here forever, but the restaurant isn't even open for another hour. Oh well.

He's on the last bite of his pancake when Akechi shifts the subject to the rest of their outing. While his mouth is full, Akira takes the time to consider the options—which are actually rather slim. It's getting late enough that most places are also closing soon, and the temperature is only going to dip lower as the night goes on.

Speaking of the cold... "Some coffee would be nice. I'd suggest going to Leblanc, but it's pretty out of the way." And it's clear from the sad edge to his smile that Akira would rather not anyway. Not just to avoid the memories of Morgana, but also because he can't risk their potential sleepover being relocated there. Akechi absolutely cannot be present when Sae comes to pick him up in the morning.

The utensils clink softly against the plate as he sets them down. "We could just grab some on the way back to your place," he suggests as an alternative. "Unless you have somewhere you want to go."

Leblanc being out of the way is a good enough reason not to visit - not that Akechi would normally let the distance stop him, but even he can see that the idea doesn't quite appeal to Akira as much as it should. So it looks like the plan of relocating to his place is still on the menu.

"I don't know of any cafes, but there's a few stands nearby that stay open late." The benefits of living near Roppongi, he supposes. "But aside from that, I don't mind going back." Sounding amused, he adds, "I might not have been intending to sleep, but I am still tired."

Akira nods his approval of the idea that's laid out. "I get that. It's been a long day." It's only just starting to hit him how true that is. He went to school, even, before saving the world, losing one of his best friends, deciding to turn himself into the police, and then confessing his feelings to the person sitting across from him.

Yeah, he's ready to spend the rest of the night indoors.

They take care of the check (Akira suggests splitting it because he doesn't want to end up locked in a who-will-pay stalemate until the restaurant closes) and head back out into the cold. The walk there felt quick between all of the chatter, and the return trip, though a bit quieter, feels just as brief, even with stopping to grab coffee at one of the stands Akechi recommends.

The warmth seeping through the cup is pleasant on his chilly fingers, but the relief is nothing compared to stepping back into the apartment a little while later. Akira sets his coffee aside long enough to remove his shoes and shrug off his borrowed coat, returning to his usual monochrome appearance.

Akechi feels similarly content and relaxed with the comparatively quiet walk back, which is starting to feel slightly silly now that he's aware of just how happy it makes him. He's acting like a teenager on his first date with his first boyfriend, and the fact that he is a teenager on his first date with his first boyfriend doesn't make him feel any less ridiculous for being so... giddy.

But he doesn't let his inner 'turmoil' show throw, paying for himself at the stand (he gets hot chocolate) and enjoying the rest of the walk home. He strips out of his outwear as well once they're inside, though he's already thinking a few steps ahead.

"I don't suppose you thought to bring your own pajames this time...?"

The smile that tugs at his mouth is more than enough to confirm Akechi's suspicions—it's a little too shameless to be guilty, a little too bright to be guilty.

"I have reason to believe you have some spare pajamas," Akira says lightly as he returns the coat to its place and then takes his coffee to head farther inside. Really, it's less that he didn't think to bring them and more that he just hasn't been back to Leblanc since before their delve into Mementos. The possibility of staying the night wasn't on his mind when he came here earlier, only a single-minded need to see Akechi.

Akechi's also been assuming that Akira's visit is somewhat spontaneous, but that look his his eyes has Akechi wondering if it might not have been on purpose. Not that he'd exactly mind if it was, but it's the principle of the thing.

"You would have been out of luck if I hadn't already done laundry." Granted, that was yesterday, but the point still stands. Still, Akechi doesn't try to chide him any more than that. He puts his coat away and retrieves the pajamas in question, though rather than handing them right over he sets them on the foot of his bed. "Even if we're staying up for a while, I'm not sure my neighbors would be happy to hear the machine run this late at night."

"I guess I would've had to sleep naked." The words are entirely casual, spoken into the lid of his coffee cup before taking a sip, though there's a playful edge to his gaze as he watches Akechi. Still, Akira appreciates the fact that he was prepared, though without meaning to be, and follows it up with, "Thanks. I'll make sure to bring my own next time."

Supposing there is a next time. Akira may not doubt Akechi's claim that he'll never regret their friendship, but he also don't doubt that he'll be incredibly pissed off by his decision and being kept in the dark about it. Will he still want to do all of this after?

Akechi doesn't do anything as embarrassing as fluster, stutter, or flush at Akira's suggestion, but he does almost fumble the pajamas and shoot him an accusatory look. A moment later the expression melts away with a soft sigh.

"You're pretty shameless, aren't you?" It's not a trait Akechi has had much of a chance to see, barring his unrepentant flashiness as Joker. Akechi takes a seat on the couch and, once both he and Akira are settled, allows himself to very slightly lean against him. For most people it would barely even count, but it's a significant step for Akechi. "But you should just leave your own set here, if you're planning to visit that much."

"So I've been told." The pajamas can wait until later. Akira takes a seat on the couch as well, a bit closer than he normally would have.

He's rewarded with the ever-so-slight weight of Akechi leaning into the proximity. To anyone else, it might seem silly to get worked up over some barely-there contact, but the small move is like a blaring statement from Akechi. It's a tiny, honest gesture that makes his chest ache, both with how much he wants to be closer and with how much he doesn't want to ever have to part with this.

But he knows how unrealistic that idea is, even with Akechi's suggestion lending to the distant but appealing fantasy of staying here indefinitely. The former, though? He might be able to do something about that tonight.

"Giving me a key, telling me to leave my clothes," Akira recounts, leaning forward to set his coffee down. "It sounds like you're giving me permission to move in, Goro." They both know he'd never be able to forsake Leblanc (not that his probation would allow that, anyway), but that thought doesn't keep the warmth from his gaze as he looks over.

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