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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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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.

Akechi shifts just far enough to not interfere with Akira while he sets his coffee down, then goes right back to ever-so-slightly leaning against him. He keeps a hold of his hot chocolate, taking a sip before he answers.

"I'm not sure we'd be comfortable in such a small apartment." He doesn't hate the idea of living with Akira otherwise, though. That's sort of surprising. It's also something that's going to have to wait quite a while longer either way. "But if your visits became more regular, I wouldn't mind that at all."

"Neither would I," he responds after a beat. As much as he'd like to, he can't give confirmation of such a thing happening, not when he knows he won't be back here for a while. Once again, the urge to come out and tell him strikes, but Akira stuffs the words back down. Not happening.

So instead, he turns a bit, facing Akechi more. Right—he can do this now, can't he? Openly observe, admire the dark red of his eyes and the shape of his lips, lift his fingers for a light touch to the line of his jaw.

The slight beat between responses isn't lost on Akechi (little changes like that usually aren't) but this time it actually catches his attention. Fortunately for Akira's plans for tomorrow, the touch to his jaw is more than enough to distract him.

On the extremely long list of 'normal things that Akechi has almost no experience with', this sort of gentle physical contact is at the top. His smile fades a little, though rather than unhappiness it's replaced with curiosity and anticipation. He turns his head, the gesture as small and slight as the subtle lean from earlier but still enough to make the contact between he and Akira a little firmer. Just in case that's not enough to drive the point home he lifts his hand, letting his fingers brush against the back of Akira's.

With Akechi leaning into his touch, it's all too easy to allow the rest of the world and all of the worries that come with it fade into quiet static in the background, all of his focus narrowed onto this one point in the present.

The graze of fingers against his own, another small but deliberate encouragement, has Akira's heart pumping quicker, the skin of the arms prickling with a desire for more. That Akechi wants this too is a staggering thought, one he hadn't considered until just recently. He exhales a steadying breathe, cups his palm a little firmer against Akechi's jawline, and leans in.

As Akira closes the gap between them, he makes the idle, inane observation that Akechi is the perfect height for this—a thought that's quickly obliterated as he meets his lips. He can't imagine that Akechi has a ton of experience in this, if any at all, so Akira keeps it chaste, a warm point of contact that nonetheless makes his mind swim.

'None' still counts as 'not a ton', so Akira's assumption is very much correct. But as Akra leans in, Akechi discovers that it doesn't usually matter. His normal preoccupation with appearing competent no matter the circumstances has vanished, replaced with excitement and eagerness. He smooths his hand down to Akira's wrist, fingertips just slightly sliding under the hem of his sleeve.

Akechi's not immediately sure of what else to do, but worry about that is quickly superseded by the realization that he's actually perfectly happy with just this. It's simple and he wants more, but he also feels warm and content and perfectly at ease. It's a rare feeling, and one that he relishes.

Seems his thoughts weren't completely off-base. There's a lack of direction coming from Akechi, but the brush of fingers against his wrist is more than enough to let him know that the advance isn't unwelcome. Well, Akira is used to leading, although he rarely volunteers for it. In this case, he finds he's more than happy to. It's been a while since he's kissed anyone, but it's not like he's worried about his performance. Akira's not sure doing this with Akechi could actually be bad.

His hand traces along Akechi's jaw until he can feel the tickle of his hair. This is something he's wondered before as well, whether Akechi's hair is as soft as it looks, and Akira isn't disappointed when he threads his fingers through it. The touch is anchoring as he ventures a bit deeper into the kiss, catching Akechi's lip between his with a graze of teeth.

Akechi isn't uncertain (or at least, he won't let himself think he is) but he still feels a bit overwhelmed - or perhaps spoiled for choice. Despite his lack of experience there's so much he wants to do, which is probably obvious in how his breath catches, his lips part, and his fingers tense against Akira's wrist when he feels the graze of his teeth.

Having his hair touched isn't a surprise, but he is a little startled by how good it feels despite being such a simple gesture. It's sparks and urge in him to do the same, but even now he can tell it might not be the easiest reach. And that's frustrating, which in turn makes every little sensation a little sharper. Akechi's subtle lean into Akira gets a little less subtle, the hand on his wrist slides further down his arm, and Akechi's free hand slips down so that he can brush his fingers over Akira's waist.

There's a jolt of satisfaction when Akechi's hands turn to bolder contact. That's exactly what Akira would expect from him. Akechi has never been the type to simply roll over when pushed, nor to give new endeavor any less than his full effort—a fact that's especially exciting right now, when it leads to fingertips skirting over his waist.

He has half a mind to grab that hand and fit it more firmly against his side, but Akira is more interested to see what Akechi decides on his own, so he simply slides his free hand against the column of Akechi's neck, a light scrape of nails against skin. The part of his lips has Akira crowding in ever-so-slightly, tongue swiping across it teasingly.

Akira doesn't have to do anything special to get what he wants. Akechi settles his hand against him more firmly just a moment later without any prompting at all, thumb lazily swiping back and forth against his shirt. The shirt being in his way is kind of annoying, actually, but while it's impossible for him to really be distracted right now it's still enough that he doesn't quite process the scrape against his neck until he's already instinctively reacted.

'Instinctively reacted', in this case, being a soft intake of air. Goosebumps break out underneath Akira's fingers, and though Akechi's lips only part further he also pulls back, eyes sliding open (though he's only just realized that he closed them at some point). He's not aware of how he looks - eyes bright, cheeks flushed, a faint smile on his face - but that's probably for the best. If he knew how he looked he'd be embarrassed; certainly too embarrassed to do what he does next, which is shift so that he's facing Akira properly and, hopefully, making it easier for them to continue.

He doesn't lean in for another kiss just yet, though. Instead he lifts his hand from Akira's arm and reaches out, intent on sliding his fingers into his hair. He bets it's just as soft and fluffy as it looks, and he's determined to find out.

Akechi may not be privy to his own expression, but Akira has certainly noticed. Where he once commented on his preference for Akechi's natural smile, this time he keeps the thought to himself, tucking away a mental snapshot of the glowing contentment that stirs an affectionate flutter in his chest.

It's a memory he may need to refer to in the coming days, when things are bound to get rough and lonely.

But right now, he wants to sink himself completely into this, into the way Akechi turns to meet him with a hand reaching out. It only takes a moment to realize that it's going for his head, and when he does, Akira doesn't try to escape. If anything, there's a minute lean toward the touch, his own grip dropping as he settles for simply resting his forearms on Akechi's shoulders. His mind flashes back to a similar encounter, one that feels ages ago despite being less than a month old: Akechi inspecting his hair, the proximity sending a jolt through him. Funny that he's finally getting a resolution to that now.

"So?" he prompts when the fingers slide into the inky waves of his hair, and Akira, for one, is completely aware that the look on his face is an unfortunate mix of smitten smile and teasing smirk. "What's your professional opinion, Mr. Shampoo Commercial?"

"Hmm..." Akechi makes a show of being thoughtful, shuffling his fingers through the strands with slow, deliberate motions, though it's hard to not smile at the 'shampoo commercial' comment. Truthfully, he's just happy for an opportunity to continue touching it, though he's not sure if this is something he should be seeking out or using excuses for. Especially not when the closeness, proximity, and physical contact all feels so natural.

"It's as fluffy as I thought it would be." It doesn't occur to him that admitting that he's actually been thinking about Akira's hair might be weird. "And as unrly." He feels like he's going to get his fingers tangled up in it if he's not careful, a thought that does nothing to stop him from combing his fingers down over Akira's temple. "It really does suit you." He's said it before but it feels like something that bears repeating.

If Akira could purr, he'd be doing it right now. The stroke of fingers through his hair is almost like being pet, so gentle that there isn't even a sting when they catch and pull through the more stubborn stands. Each pass leaves a prickling warmth in its wake, not too unlike the one that squeezes in his chest when Akechi implies that he's imagined what this would feel like.

"I'm glad you think so." The words are a little more breathy than he thought they would be on the delivery. Akira swallows, centers himself, and tries again, "Because it's not changing." As they established last time, he doesn't have much choice in that aside from shearing it all off, and now that he knows Akechi likes it... Well, that's not going to happen.

"Feels good," he adds after a moment, eyes falling shut against the sliding, inquisitive touch. Just lying his head in Akechi's lap and letting this continue wouldn't be a bad way to spend the rest of the night.

Akechi has a thought like, Morgana's not the only cat freeloading at Leblanc. But once again, he catches himself before he voices it. Morgana isn't around anymore, and there really is only one 'cat' left in Leblanc's dusty attic.

"I recall you saying you couldn't change it." And something about it stressing Akira's parents to no end when they tried to make him look presentable. "But I'm glad to hear that." Akechi doesn't miss the breathy quality to Akira's voice at first and it makes him glad that his own is a little more under control.

Akechi is taken by the same thought - that he thinks he could do this all night, just sit here and drift off running his hands through Akira's hair. It's still just as intimate as anything else they've done tonight, but in a way that's comfortable and, though Akechi doesn't think of it like that, safe. It's that sensation of safety that has Akechi feeling bold enough to speak up again.

"It's a good thing I already offered to let you stay the night." His hand pauses briefly in Akira's hair. "You look like you're about to fall asleep."

Although he suggested staying up all night earlier, Akira can feel his resolve beginning to wane. A rare occurrence for him, indeed, but the incredibly long day is starting to take its toll, demanding that he finally rest, fatigue coaxed along by the comfort of Akechi's fingers in his hair.

"I feel like I might," Akira admits quietly. He doesn't want to. He wants to savor every moment he has left with Akechi right now, let each one stretch out as he commits it to memory. But the reasonable part of him is beginning to accept that this is a good way to end the night. "I think today's finally starting to catch up with me."

The arms he has settled over Akechi's shoulders curl, and without thinking too deeply about it, Akira drags himself in closer and tucks his head in alongside Akechi's. Like this, he doesn't have to be careful about his expression giving him away under Akechi's perceptive gaze.

"If you wake me up early enough, I can make omurice for breakfast." Despite the edges of sorrow poking through the cloud of contentment, his tone stays light. Akira isn't about to pretend that he can wake up that early without a little help.

'A good way to end the night' isn't a thought that Akira voices out lout, but it's one that Akechi agrees with wholeheartedly. Especially when Akira presses closer, tucking his head against his in a way that feels warm and natural and right. Akechi pulls his arm around Akira's shoulder, though the one in his hair continues to comb through the unruly strands.

As for breakfast... that's right. He'd mentioned the omurice ingredients while they were discussing dinner earlier, hadn't he? Despite the positive reaction he'd had to the 'omurice' that Akira had managed to salvage out of the limited ingredients that Akechi had handy, he's pretty interested to try Akira's take on the real thing.

"You'll be thrilled to know I wake up at 7 AM every morning." Except for that time after Sae's Palace - and, truthfully, maybe tomorrow morning as well. As Akira said, today's starting to catch up to him. "I hope you realize that means you'll be sleeping on the outside, though." Much like Akira, he keeps his tone light, though rather than sorrow he's trying to conceal the hurricane of butterflies that whirl through him at the implied suggestion in his words. It would definitely be more weird for them to sleep apart at this stage, but something about suggesting otherwise is a little nerve-wracking.

Luckily, being tucked in close like this also means that Akechi can't see the grimace that twists his expression when he mentions his usual schedule—only for it to blank out suddenly at the implication that follows. Oh. Why does that make his heart threaten to beat itself up into his throat? It's not like he's used to sleeping alone, Morgana is—

Akira cuts that thought off abruptly, focusing instead on the solid warm under his arms and against his chest, on the fingers pulling through his hair, so gentle and considerate.

"Not a good idea if you want to get out of bed that early." He settles for quietly refuting Akechi's claim, letting his words puff against his ear. "Having to climb over me means I can keep you trapped." For a little while, anyway. He still has to part with Akechi in time to head back and meet Sae before it gets too late. But even with each second hurtling him closer to that instance, it feels like ages away when sharing a bed with Akechi stands before it. Akira finally works up the motivation to unwind himself from Akechi, giving him the space and freedom of limb he needs to stand up.

"I could drag you out with me," he muses, but not even he sounds convinced - probably because all of his effort is going into not sounding too excited when Akira accepts the prospect of sharing a bed without so much as blinking. "Besides, how could you make omurice from bed?" Though Akechi's good mood and humor come through, he still manages to make his tone a little chiding.

But it seems like they're finally standing up, so Akechi allows himself to unwind his arms from around Akira and pushes himself to his feet. Now that he's up he suddenly feels even more sleepy than before, to the point that he kind of wants to just flop down fully dressed. He knows better, however, so he retrieves the two pairs of pajamas that he set on the bed earlier and offers one set out to Akira.

"You can get ready first." There's only room for one person in the bathroom, and it's more polite to let a guest go first, and he has some minor things to take care of anyway, none of which are the real reason he lets Akira go first: he needs a chance to calm himself down before his nervous excitement makes him do something embarrassing. Even if tonight has been wonderful, even if Akira has already seen him at his worst, even if he still trusts Akira more than he's ever trusted anyone, it's still hard to be comfortable with the that degree of emotional vulnerability.

"Ah, you've exposed the flaw in my plan..." He doesn't sound all that defeated, however, simply rising to his feet with a little cock of his head to work out a kink. The absence of Akechi's warm around him is regrettable, leaving the apartment feeling chillier than before even with his long sleeves.

When Akechi offers the pajamas and the first opportunity in the bathroom, he accepts with quiet thanks. As much as he wants to rush into the phase of this where they have no issues taking off their clothes around each other, Akira knows better. If he pushes towards that now, it's going to be because his extremely limited freedom weighs on his mind, not because things naturally progressed in that direction.

That thought lingers as he disappears into the bathroom. By the time he emerges a few minutes later, previous outfit folded in hand, face washed and teeth brushed, he's managed to shut it away again—for the moment. Like a cockroach, it seems to keep peeking out of the tiniest cracks in his thoughts, finding a way to the surface no matter how he tries to block it out.

"Your turn," he speaks up, voice level, as he heads over to tuck his clothes into his bag.

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