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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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If he can impart at least a bit of confidence (not that Akechi is lacking it where schoolwork is concerned), then Akira is satisfied. He smiles faintly as he nudges around the contents of the pan to keep them cooking evenly. Well, he'll be more satisfied if this turns out well. Having received Akechi's confession hasn't dampened his desire to impress him in the least.

"I'm planning on it." He's not counting on being a free man, as that would be incredibly optimistic with the list of crimes they read off to him last time, but that means that he will definitely be in Tokyo for the summer. One way or another. Still, he'll allow himself to daydream as he continues, "You should come to the beach with us next time. A festival, too."

There are so many things he wants to do with Akechi—places to see, sights to show him, activities to try...

If Akechi were aware of the way that Akira is constantly managing to lie without actually speaking a false word he'd be impressed. He has no suspicions, however, so he accepts his words with a guileless lack of hesitation.

"Joining you for a festival sounds fun." The trip to the beach, too, but the idea of a festival grabs his attention more readily. "Though you'll have to forgive me if I don't trust your takoyaki recommendations, this time." He uses the plural form of you here, even though the takoyaki incident at Shuujin's festival had been entirely his own fault. If he's going to acknowledge something so embarrassing he can't take all the blame.

"My takoyaki recommendations?" Somehow, his voice manages a cross between incredulous and amused as he glances back at Akechi. "I'm pretty sure you walked right up and ate it before we could say anything. I was going to eat that one, you know..."

Although... well, now that Akechi knows about his time-traveling journey, the fact that he knew about the takoyaki and still allowed Akechi to eat it anyway is exposed. Oops. He can't help that Akechi's reaction to it was so priceless that he wanted to see it a second time around at his expense.

"And I'm pretty sure you knew exactly what was about to happen and didn't try to stop me." He actually didn't make the connection until just now, but now that he has he's not going to let it slide. "Your silence counts as an endorsement, even if I didn't realize it at the time."

Then again, maybe it would have seemed suspicious for the leader of the Phantom Thieves to extend that sort of help to their self-declared number one enemy. That's not the part that really has his attention, however.

"Were you really planning on eating it?"

Oops, called out. Akira tempers his smile down and turns back to the pan. Looks like it's almost time for the veggies.

"I couldn't give myself away." A flimsy excuse but one playfully offered all the same. This quiet sort of banter in the calm of Akechi's apartment puts his heart somewhat at ease. "And yeah, I was. I was curious about how spicy it was going to be."

He's nothing if not adventurous.

"Too spicy." He can admit to that much. Akechi drifts a little closer, watching Akira cook over his shoulder without looming or crowding into his space. "But if you're disappointed you missed out, I know of a restaurant that prides itself on its spicy dishes."

Akehci never actually went himself, but it's not like he hates spicy food. He'd be more than willing to go if Akira is interested - and he has proper warning, this time.

Another restaurant to visit together? Sounds like a potential date. They may not be able to visit for a while, but Akira's heart warms all the same.

That affection shines in his eyes when he glances over his shoulder, meeting Akechi's easily at this proximity. "What if I just want to go with you?"

That sort of statement isn't exactly odd or unexpected. Akira has always (baring a few understandable exceptions that Akechi is ignoring right now) been straight-forward about expressing his feelings - when he finally gets around to doing it, at least. So it's not really weird or even something he hasn't heard before, but...

Well, it's nice to not be told that his company is worth having for its own merits, but to also believe it. Akechi's smile softens, the amusement from earlier replaced by warm affection.

"Then I have plenty of other recommendations, too." And more importantly: "I'd be happy to take you somewhere new every single day for months, if you wanted."

The fondness in Akechi's gaze sinks right into him and wraps his chest in a gentle pressure. Akira's never been a particularly greedy person, content with his dusty attic and old TV and milk crate bed even with heaps of money at his feet, but this—

He wants more. So much more.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he turns back to the pan. "I'd like that," he responds as he adds in the vegetables and mixes them into the other contents.

"Then it's a date." Or 'dates', as it should turn out to be. "It can be something to look forward to once exams are over." Akira will be heading home not long after that, but there should still be more than enough time for them to visit a few places. And when Akira comes back in the summer maybe they could even go back to one or two of them and try the new seasonal dishes--

Alright, that's getting a little ahead of himself, and even though Akechi didn't say anything out loud he can't help but feel a little embarrassed by his own enthusiasm. He distracts himself by finally stepping around Akira and digging out plates and utensils for both of them. He can tell that breakfast is close to being ready, and while it's a little awkward with clothing tucked under one arm he can at least help out by taking care of this part. His kitchen isn't that cramped.

Even if Akechi doesn't voice all of those thoughts, Akira gets the sense that he's excited about these plans. The ones he can't deliver on. The aromas drifting from the pan in front of him suddenly seem a lot less appetizing.

The sound of utensils clinking and shuffling draws his attention back over his shoulder. "You can go change, Goro. I'll take care of the rest." The food won't take much longer now, so he can probably have it served up by the time Akechi finishes getting ready for the day.

"If you insist." He got as far as actually getting the plates down, so he at least sets those aside rather than putting them back up. Even though it's happened once already, it's still a little weird to leave the entirety of the meal prep to someone else in his own home.

Still, he makes himself leave it at that. He disappears back into the bedroom and changes without any fuss or fanfare, as even gets as far as making the bed when Akira finally announces that breakfast is ready (or simply emerges with it). He perks up and doesn't hesitate to drift closer, though he takes care to not get in the way.

"It smells incredible." He's actually excited for food, which even he notices is a little surprising. "Are you certain Sojiro-san won't let you expand the menu beyond curry?"

It's hard to relish in how strangely domestic this feels when Akechi's excitement hangs in the back of his head. Hiding it from him feels so wrong, but he doesn't have a choice. He only has to pretend for a bit longer. Just a little bit.

Once the rice is done, the omelettes are quick to cook. Soon enough, he has both servings plated up and even takes care to decorate each with a poorly drawn approximation of their masks in ketchup. Questionable art aside, it looks much better than his last attempt.

"I think I've got a ways to go before I could convince him. You know he's a tough judge." He's carried the plates out to the living area to meet Akechi, passing his over before heading to the couch.

"True... Something else to work towards."

But never mind that. Akechi takes his plate and only manages to offer a brief thanks before he's distracted by Akira's ketchup artwork. Is that...? It is. Akechi lets out a surprised puff of laughter, following after Akira to make himself comfortable besides him.

"Taking lessons of Kitagawa-kun?" Actually, Yusuke would probably do something much more detailed and grand, not to mention so time consuming that the food would be cold by now. Still, Akira's inexpert doodle is charming enough that Akechi actually goes digging for his phone before he starts eating. Akira will either never do this again or only get better with practice, so Akechi wants to immortalize this moment.

That subtle noise that spills from Akechi's lips makes it worth every bit of effort. Although tiny, the laughter sinks into him and nurtures the warmth in his heart until it pushes back against the dark cloud of anxiety and dread.

"Not sure I could keep up with him..." Akira remarks quietly as he flops down onto the cushions. But as he starts to consider it, the motion catches in the corner of his eye, drawing a wide-eyed and curious gaze. Oh. As silly as it is, knowing that Akechi approves of it enough to snap a picture makes him feel like the first night he managed to replicate Leblanc's curry with near perfection.

"Come here." He pats the cushion right next to him, urging Akechi closer. "It's a pair, so you should get both of them in it." A set that shouldn't be separated, much like his heart urges now.

"Probably not," Akechi agrees, perhaps too easily. In fact, he thinks Yusuke might take offense to the implication that his instruction had resulted in something like this. Fortunately, even though he's taking a picture it's not like he's planning to share this with anyone.

And speaking of which, Akechi doesn't hesitate to shift closer when ushered, leaning into Akira's personal space and sliding his plate over until it's side-by-side with Akira's before snapping the picture. He's taken enough 'artsy' photographs of trendy desserts that it only takes one try to get what he considers and acceptable shot. He leans back again once he's done, but he's still decidedly within Akira's personal space.

"A pair, huh?" He likes that, something that's entirely evident in his tone. "We do make a good team." More more ways than one now, even.

He's close enough that Akira can peer over at the end result, silently impressed by the ease with which Akechi takes a well-framed picture. The artsy focus on his sad, somewhat splattered ketchup art is comical in a way. Lips upturned slightly, he leans back against the cushions and gets to digging in.

"Almost as good as we are rivals," teases Akira. He doesn't think they'll ever stop being rivals, really; the two things aren't mutually exclusive, and the way they tend to push each other to greater heights through opposition is too good to ever stop competing over things.

For now, though, they can just enjoy this meal. Akira takes his first bite with a soft hum, satisfied with the depth of the flavor in his mouth. One would think it would come off kind of bland after months of having curry for breakfast every day, but the mildness is more refreshing than anything.

"Isn't being rivals part of being a pair?" Ah, but he's not here's (just) to have another verbal back and forth with Akira. He's been looking forward to this since he first jokingly brought up having the ingredients the night before, so once his phone is back in his pocket he doesn't hesitate to start eating. It's a very normal plate of omurice and it doesn't drive him straight into exhausted, baffled laughter this time, but he doesn't think it's going to be any less memorable for it.

The pace of his eating slows as he gets to the last few bites and his thoughts turn towards Akira's rapidly approaching departure. It's childish (childish in a way he's not comfortable displaying the way he is with his Metaverse 'weapons') but part of him wants to leave with Akira, follow him all the way back to Leblanc and spend as much time as possible with him. But even with zero romantic experience Akechi knows there's such a thing as being too overbearing - and he doesn't want to deal with attracting Sojiro's annoyance or worsening his already odd relationship with Futaba by intruding on their 'family' time.

(It's weird to worry about things like that beyond how they impact his public persona, but he finds that he doesn't mind too much.)

"Do you need to borrow my coat for the walk back?" It's not snowing outside anymore, he doesn't think, but it's probably cold enough for some to still be around after last night and he hasn't forgotten that Akira showed up without anything besides a light jacket.

"That's true," Akira acknowledges, but he pushes the conversation no further than that lest they banter until the egg starts to get cold. They're both ready to give the food their full attention and appreciation. He works his way through the dish, both savoring the improved flavor and making mental notes of ways he might build upon it next time. Maybe some heat? No, Akechi probably wouldn't like that too much. How about a rich demi-glace sauce instead...

The meal feels criminally short even with him taking his time. Akechi's question breaks through the silence as he scrapes the last of the rice onto his fork. He probably shouldn't since he won't be able to give it back in person, but—

"Yeah, better not go getting sick after surviving all of that." Not that he actually cares about that at all. All Akira wants is to wrap himself in Akechi's presence for as long as he possibly can, even after he's left this apartment. But he can't say that, and so he offers a hand to stack Akechi's cleared plate with his own. "Here, I'll take that." He's used to doing the dishes at Leblanc anyway.

It would be a shame if Akira got sick... but if Akechi were being entirely honest (which isn't going to happen) he could admit that there's a part of him that just likes the idea of Akira wearing something that belongs to him. It's yet another small impulse among the dozens of others that have popped up since he's let his control slip a little more around Akira.

"And I'd rather not have to answer for sending you home sick." But just as Akira is pretending (not that Akechi realizes) that's the real reason, Akechi can pretend (not that Akira realizes, he thinks) the same. He hands the plate over without any fuss, though he's suddenly caught up wondering if anyone would even know where Akira's been. He catches himself assuming they probably won't figure it out and won't be told, at least not right away. It doesn't bother him, though.

Despite his love of the spotlight, he's still a fairly private person - and besides, he likes that sort of isolation.

"I suppose I shouldn't keep you much longer..." He doesn't sound happy about it, and there's a melancholy edge to his tone, but he still makes a point of standing up and retrieving the coat he intends to loan out. "At least I'll have to get my coat back later." As if he's not already intending to show up for the party.

The reluctance in Akechi's voice is almost enough to make him reconsider the whole plan. Almost. Akira's jaw sets as he moves towards the skin, reminding himself of the reason he's doing it in the first place: to put Shido away for good, to close the book on this past year, and to keep Akechi out of police custody. It has to be him.

"Still making excuses to come see me?" He can't help but tease, recalling a time when he had to tell Akechi that he didn't need excuses like coffee or cases to visit him. It feels so far away now, that time when hours spent with Akechi were the only ones that didn't carry a weird sense of deja vu.

Muscle memory carries him through the process of scrubbing their dishes clean, and by the time he's wiping his hands dry and coming to accept the coat, Akira is able to offer a smile. "Feels you're about to see me off to a day at the office."

"I wouldn't want Sakura-san to think I'm suddenly snubbing Leblanc." Akechi's tone is equally teasing, though there's some truth to his words. Better to have a 'reason' for why he's not stopping for coffee when that used to be the only reason he went. He's not likely to ever reach the point where he doesn't worry about his public persona.

Akechi mirrors Akira's smile with one of his own, though he can't help but grin at his next comment.

"I'm afraid I don't have any lunch to send with you... Maybe next time." Though if one of them were to work in an office and the other were to regularly see him off with a meal, Akechi feels like the roles would be reversed from what they are now. Something to consider for the future, he supposes.

Akechi turns over the coat without any fuss, the reluctance from earlier no longer visible in his expression or tone. He'll be fine for a few hours, though he doesn't try to stop himself from seeking out Akira's hand to briefly lace their fingers together.

"Take care, Akira. I'll see you later."

"That's exciting." Too bad he won't be able to see something like a lunch packaged by Akechi for a long time. Slipping on the coat feels a little bit like preparing to walk to the gallows—and shouldn't it, after what he's endured? Even Sae won't be able to protect him from their whims. For once, he doesn't know what's going to happen next, and for once, that fact is not refreshing but frightening.

The sudden bump of a hand dislodges those thoughts, fingers twining warmth through his own. Take care. Akira squeezes back, heart in his throat, and uses their clasped hands as an anchor when he draws closer to catch Akechi's lips with his own.

He can't say goodbye the way he would like to, but at least he can leave him with this: a kiss that takes every drop of fervent affection and pours it into that touch. The hand in his keeps Akira grounded enough to restrain the desperation raging inside of him. It doesn't overwhelm the gesture, tinging only the edges in the way he presses in by a small step and cups a hand against Akechi's cheek, hungry for more.

It's not weird to expect a goodbye kiss, but even if it was Akechi wouldn't be able to worry about it right now. Akira won't have to 'catch' anything; Akechi doesn't hesitate to lean in and meet his lips with his own. He gives Akira's hand a gentle, barely-there squeeze, while his other hand moves to settle on Akira's hip.

There's no desperation on his end, only languid contentment with an undercurrent of excitement to it. He's in a much clearer state of mind compared to last time, and that lets him notice the slight tension in Akira's movements, but even now Akechi's ability to read Akira is questionable at best. He mistakes desperation for simple neediness and thinks nothing of it, aside from indulging in the feeling of having such neediness directed towards him - and by someone like Akira no less.

Alright, maybe excitement is exerting more of an influence over his actions than Akechi realized. With that last thought he ends up pressing a bit closer, like he can't wait for the chance to do this again and doesn't want to let this opportunity go to waste.

The kiss is every bit as exploratory as the one last night, but unlike then, there's nothing keeping them from pressing right up against each other, front-to-front. The way Akechi cozies up closer makes his thoughts go fuzzy, drunk on the proximity. It's tempting to answer by taking this to the nearby wall, by shoving Akechi there and layering against him, by permanently etching every angle of his body into his memory.

But he knows better. Even if Akechi weren't to notice his underlying feelings, it would make leaving even harder than it already is. Akira settles for edging only a bit closer and catching his fingers through the hair that frames Akechi's face, dragging down a caress that mirrors that of his lips, both in its gentleness and the way he slowly eases out of it after a long moment.

"You make it hard to say goodbye," he murmurs into the narrow space between their lips, like he wasn't the one to initiate it in the first place.

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