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Akechi’s not used to physical touch. That much was obvious when Akira felt the stilted handshake at the studio, touch lingering a bit too long. Or maybe time stopped at that moment (all entirely that mysterious voice’s doing!).
There’s also plenty of instances where their fingers brush, when handing out coffee or aquarium tickets, and the barrier of leather and the word rivalry in the space between them always makes Akechi retract with a polite murmur of apologies.
Whatever the reason, Akira was looking to fix that, especially as now, the thieves have been kind of brusque when it comes to Akechi, and maybe if they can’t use their words, touch would be easier. (S)kinship is important for a team, after all, and even if the casino’s deadline looms, he’s hoping Akechi would at the least have a good time with them, as working around the whole interrogation room plan must’ve been taxing for all involved.
In one of their clandestine Phantom Thieves meetings, Akira spotted Yusuke munching on something other than Jagariko and got interested. “Yusuke, where’d you get that Pocky from?” Yusuke looked up, saying, “Oh, this? That intriguing counsellor from the school festival offered it in exchange for the takoyaki I bought.”
Ann added, “Isn’t Pocky Day coming up soon? My agency’s having me do some photoshoots for it, actually, to follow the trend.”
Haru put down her coffee cup, “Oh, isn’t there also a game that goes with it?” Futaba’s constant typing stopped as she chimed in, “Yup! The Pocky game’s where you make excuses to kiss with chocolate in-between. It’d be fun to try it.”
“Ain’t your social skills too low for that right now?” Ryuji snickers from behind his manga. “Obviously, I’m just gonna watch you guys do it! That doujin’s just writing itself!”
Makoto, still not in tune with Futaba’s antics, asked, “So when’s this Pocky Day coming up?” Ann answered, “In a couple days, at November 11th.”
Akira nudged Morgana, and whispered, “Hey. What if we try that out? The calling card isn’t until November 18th, anyway.” Morgana’s ears perked up at that, and he stood on the table.
“Listen, you guys. Since we’ve already secured the infiltration route, we’ll probably have to fight Niijima’s Shadow to get to the treasure. So why don’t we do some team-bonding exercises before that?” he suggested while tilting his head towards Ann’s direction.
Akechi dragged his gaze from outside of the window, “Well then, are we heading to Mementos?” he asked, probably excited from the prospect of fighting Shadows and showing off his skill. “Nope. Didn’t Ann-dono mention something just now?” Morgana sauntered over in front of Ann.
Ann put down her phone. “Yeah, about the Pocky game, right? That sounds fun! I’m joining!”
“Nyahuhu! I knew I could count on you, Ann-dono!” Morgana beamed.
“Oh! I’d like to try too!”
“Well, if Haru’s joining, then…”
“Hey, sounds cool! Let’s do it!”
“Of course I’m in! Need that doujin material!”
“I wouldn’t be opposed to that. It might be quite stimulating to see that facet of the human heart…”
Akira doesn’t wait for Akechi’s answer and declared, “Well, it’s decided then. Make sure to show up on November 11th. Dismissed.”
Fast forward to a couple of days later, munching on a cookies & cream Pocky stick, is Akira trying to resummon that nonchalance. Recalling Akechi’s scandalised expression, lips parted in shock, really isn’t doing wonders in that regard. Idly, he wonders whether Akechi’s planning to post something on his food blog to celebrate the day.
Speaking of that food blog, those photos really are the picture-perfect innocence that characterises Akechi. Akira loves that, of course, but he’s hoping to see more of Akechi this time, wants him to let go a bit for this fun challenge. He loves competition after all, so maybe if Akira instigates…
A melodious chime makes him look to the door, and in come the thieves. Ann, Haru, and Makoto are holding an assortment of Pocky flavours, and Ryuji following behind carrying the most of it, while Futaba’s teasing Yusuke about the train fare she had to deposit for him.
Then Leblanc’s bell tolls, announcing the arrival of his object of ambivalent affection, Akechi. He gives an almost shy little wave at Akira’s direction.
Akechi’s going to be the death of him.
Akechi is not used to physical touch. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t like it. The few times were memories of his mother, gently brushing his hair. She probably sang him praises about it, but Akechi can’t ever remember it clearly, and doesn’t need to because reaching for that warmth always leaves him cold as it slowly vanishes.
Some things lead to another, and here he is, in the Phantom Thieves’ hideout, vacantly watching as Morgana chokes on the Pocky stick that was too long for his tiny mouth.
Ryuji takes the Pocky box away from them, and says “Ain’t chocolate bad for ‘em? You shoulda known better!” he admonishes Akira, who’s raising his hands in a placating gesture.
“I’m not a—“ Morgana’s pitiful coughing continues while Haru pats his back in an effort to comfort.
Ann looks on guiltily as she continues to chew on the stick, and even Futaba seems demure.
“I-I…I’ll go next!” she offers, to try and ease the worried atmosphere. Her muttered resolve only heightens it.
Of course, Akira, the leader of the group, is the one she’s most comfortable with, so she looks to him for help.
“All right, come on. Let’s get it started.” he smiles softly, and Futaba eases her chair closer. Ryuji tosses the Pocky box and he catches it with ease, handing Futaba a stick. She bites the tip of it, and Akira asks, “You sure?” She nods quickly.
Akira bites the other end, and Futaba begins by barely moving a centimetre closer. Akira moves several centimetres closer. Futaba’s so focused on the stick, trying to keep her reactions down as she barely moves again. Akira breaks the stick.
“Guess that’s your win, ‘Taba.” he grins. “That’s not how it normally goes, but I’ll take it.” she says while crossing her arms, pouting after being patronised. Akira ruffles her hair, which causes her headphones to drop. “Ah! No, no, no—“ she goes under the table to retrieve it while Haru plucks the box and bites the stick.
She turns to Makoto, whose previously calm demeanour is lost in favour of surprise. “The senpais have to show them how it’s done.” she teases, leaning closer, Pocky stick already in her mouth. Yusuke’s already framing the shot, urging his muses to hurry.
Haru makes the first move, exchanging bites with Makoto. They barely touch and Makoto breaks the stick, apparently more interested in examining her hands on her lap while Haru swallows down more cold coffee.
“The hell was that?! Aren’t you our seniors? Hey, Ann, c’mere!” Ryuji gets the Pocky and Ann, then the two promptly eat the stick in record time. Morgana’s yowls of protest go unheard.
The games go on, boxes get thrown at the winners, and plenty have had their fill.
Ryuji, Pocky stick hanging off his mouth, slings his arm over Akira. “Kira-kira! Akechi hasn’t played, right?” he smirks, wanting to see Akechi lose.
Damn that blond brute.
Akira only smugly looks across and meets Akechi’s gaze, wiggling the box of Pocky in his hand.
And that dastardly delinquent.
Akechi sheepishly points at himself, delivering a surprised expression. “Oh, me? I was under the impression that whoever has the box gets to play…”
The box suddenly makes its way over to him in a graceful arc. He catches it, of course, and the culprit stares, starting to grin. Akechi responds with a dazzling smile, determined to win this competition. He walks towards Akira, Ryuji already leaving his chair to sit on the couch. Akira returns Akechi’s smile, saying, “Do your worst.”
I will enjoy putting you in your place. “Haha. I’ll make sure to surpass lofty expectations such as those.”
Disregarding Yusuke’s normal disposition, the room seems to have quieted. Is it just because of his fixation on Akira? No, it’s probably because the thieves don’t have the nerve to ever challenge Akira. It’s always like that. Futaba may have tried to, and despite the technicalities that was entirely Akira’s win.
Akechi’s itching to see their reaction to their leader losing. He can’t beat him in the other world without Loki, but Akechi’s definitely better in the real world when it comes to experience. The naive leader’s going to remember this.
They both have the tips of the stick. Right. The challenger strikes first. Akechi moves centimetres closer. Akira advances at nearly the same pace. Akechi’s already taken a quarter of territory. Akira only mirrors his movements. The peanut gallery seems to have regained their ability to speak and they start to cheer for Akira. Some brash ones have decided to wolf-whistle.
There’s a pause when Akechi considers what to do next. Let’s just get this over with already. Akechi’s halfway through the stick. Akira seems to have stopped for the moment. What? Is he going to break it again? Akechi looks at Akira. Akira looks up through his eyelashes. Akechi can’t seem to focus on anything else, meeting his gleaming grey gaze behind those gingerly guileless glasses. There’s a minuscule quirk of his lips. He can almost read it. Don’t underestimate me.
Akira’s lips part, and he closes the remaining distance. The touch is electrifying, and Akechi jolts in surprise, breaking the stick.
He realises how close they’ve leaned, and quickly sits up straight, finishing the rest of the stick.
Akira’s wearing a shit-eating grin, his eyes crinkled in amusement.
“Again. I demand a rematch.” Akechi claims, already getting a stick. Akira complies, pulling back his glasses.
The Phantom Thieves look almost confounded, as if Akira’s walking straight into the hellfire of a mutiny.
It repeats, almost absolutely the same, and they’re left at a standstill again. Akechi’s halfway and Akira’s next. Come on. Again. Akira does exactly that, but this time, Akechi’s prepared.
They touch, and he’d have thought time actually stopped if it wasn’t for the incessant pounding he feels reverberating through him. Akira tentatively moves against him, and Akechi can barely focus on the intimate sensation of lips on his, moving, feeling, almost tasting, until he feels the timid touch of hands on him, once again jumping away like he’s been burned.
It feels cold. He realises belatedly that the stick between them broke long ago and he’s not bothered to investigate anything else but that warmth again.
He looks at Akira again, who’s pulling at the fringe, the only thing obscuring his eyes. I need to investigate that again.
Akechi leans towards him again, and Akira, despite his faltering demeanour, is decidedly unmoving, save for pulling at his hair. Akechi reaches for that hand, and Akira immediately stills.
Akechi reaches for his cheek, and their mouths meet. Akechi lets his heartbeat become an accompaniment to the main attraction, focusing entirely on Akira. He starts moving against him first, and Akira’s hands are indecisive, not knowing where to hold on, moving from a hesitant touch at his chest to around his waist. Akechi uses his height advantage and leans above him, causing Akira’s eyes to droop closed, the contact like the gentle flutter of wings. Akechi follows, and the contact is almost too much with his senses limited.
He can feel and hear the soft noises exhaled against his mouth, and start to feel the Akira’s lips forming a smile. He licks at it and sucks lightly, and Akira makes a noise. Akechi moves a hand behind Akira’s neck, leather sinking and parting the curls in between. Akira’s hands wrap around tighter in response, and they’re so close, exchanging breaths and touches.
As much as he’d like to continue, he’s starting to notice the breathless sounds from Akira and himself calling for air. They part slowly, and the faint taste of chocolate reminds him of the situation and he opens his eyes, meeting Akira’s liquid mercury eyes, his face tinged like the Pocky’s packaging.
Akechi delivers a self-satisfied smirk. “I win.”
Futaba cackles, saying, “But there was no Pocky that time! Oh my god, this is so cliche!”
Akechi looks over at her, about to say something, and instead his attention is brought to Yusuke hastily sketching something on paper.
Akira seems to have regained his consciousness, and light-heartedly reminds Yusuke not to show that to others. The noise of people talking again and stealing sticks continues, and nobody seems that concerned about what just happened after seeing their leader take it in stride. Sometime later, Akira steals a glance at Akechi’s calculating crimson contemplation staring straight back at him, and the two share a look.
This competition isn’t over until all the boxes run out.