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It’s a simple beginning.
Like this: Akutagawa cutting vegetables in the kitchen, oil heating in the pan. Dinner, for him and Gin. Gin is reading on their couch, long hair down and flowing around her shoulders. The sound of Akutagawa’s knife hitting the wooden cutting board is the only thing breaking the siblings' comfortable silence.
Until Akutagawa’s phone starts to ring.
Like this: Gin getting up from her spot and bringing Akutagawa his phone with a smile. With Akutagawa not recognizing the number on the screen, but answering anyway with a chopped, “Yes?” as he moves across the kitchen to rinse his hands. And a voice he recognizes saying, “Akutagawa?”
If Akutagawa wasn’t a more poised man, he would have stumbled. He would have had to catch himself against the counter. His mouth would have fallen open in shock and surprise. Instead, he says, “Jinko.” As if the phone call was expected.
In reality, he is the last person he’d expect the tiger to call.
“I got your number from Dazai,” Nakajima Atsushi says, which does make Akutagawa stumble. He coughs in surprise, then clears his throat. He hadn’t been aware that Dazai even had his number.
And why would Atsushi want it?
When Akutagawa doesn’t answer, Atsushi speaks again. “Akutagawa? Are you there?”
“I’m here.” He’s aware of Gin’s curious gaze on him from the living room; her lips mouth ‘What does he want?’ and Akutagawa holds up his index finger to her. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I-I just… Well it’s just that. You. I mean, I. Well!” Atsushi blusters on the other line, choking over his words. Akutagawa can almost hear him scrambling.
Well. No use in putting dinner on hold for that bumbling idiot. Holding his phone between his ear and shoulder, Akutagawa scraps the vegetables from the cutting board into the well-heated pan. They sizzle as they hit the hot oil, loud enough for Atsushi to hear.
“Are you… cooking?”
“Is it not dinnertime, Jinko?” He stirs the vegetables around, making sure they’re in an even layer.
“I just didn’t realize you could cook.” A pause. “What are you making?”
“A simple stir fry and rice.” Gin is still looking at him, her eyebrows raised now, eyes following him as he moves from the stove to the rice cooker on the counter. “What about you?”
“O-oh, me?” Akutagawa hears a crash in the background, causing him to stop his motions and tilt his head to the side.
“Are you alright?”
“Fine!” Atsushi insists too enthusiastically. “Just looking through my cabinets.”
“For something to eat.” Gin has moved into the kitchen, pressing her ear up against Akutagwa’s to try to hear who’s on the phone. Akutagawa tries to shoo her away, but she just moves in closer.
“I’m sure I have a cup noodle here somewhere.” Another crash. “Like, in the way, way back.”
Next to him, Gin whispers, “Invite him for dinner,” and Akutagawa shakes his head, pushing Gin away by her shoulder. “Invite him,” she says again, louder this time. He swears, if Gin wasn’t his most precious sister, he would run her through with Rashomon.
“What’d you say, Akutagawa?” Atsushi says.
Maybe he’ll run her through anyway.
“Nothing, Jinko,” he says, and Gin sighs, head falling back in exasperation. “I was just wondering if you’d like to come have dinner at my place.”
“Are you sure?” The noise in the background stops, and Akutagawa can imagine Atsushi going completely still. It’s comical.
“Just get here before I change my mind,” Akutagawa snaps. And then he hangs up, fast, shoving his phone back into Gin’s hands. She’s laughing, shoulders shaking like this is the most hilarious situation in the world. And then the phone rings again, and both she and Akutagawa pause.
He snatches up the phone before Gin gets the idea to answer herself.
“What?” he snaps, expecting the tiger to say he can’t make it.
“I don’t have your address,” Atsushi says, and Gin crumbles with laughter.
—
Akutagawa’s sister is a traitor and a liar.
As soon as she opened the door to let Atsushi into their shared home, she announced that she had a headache, that she wasn’t feeling well, and she needed to lay down. “Will you save me some dinner, Ryuunosuke?”
Akutagawa, fists clenched and shaking with anger, wanted to tell her no, wanted to remind her that she had been just fine ten minutes ago when she’d been teasing Akutagawa for his reddened cheeks, for how he was nervously cleaning the kitchen, how she’d been cooing, “Oooooh, Jinko!” Instead, he’d said, “Of course.” Calm and collected.
Gin retreated to her room, Akutagawa had set the dinner table, and now there is only him and Atsushi and heavy silence.
Atsushi, for what it’s worth, clears his plate in mere seconds, as Akutagawa slowly takes bites of his own food. “This is so delicious,” Atsushi praises, finally breaking their silence with his mouth full, cheeks bulging. “You really can cook, Akutagawa.”
“I’m surprised you can’t,” he replies. His back is stick straight where Atsushi is draped over the table. He dabs at the corners of his mouth with a napkin as Atsushi wipes sauce away from his with the pad of his thumb. “As you also live alone.”
“I can cook,” Atsushi insists, swallowing. Then he laughs, nervously. “Well, I can heat up water.”
“For cup noodles,” Akutagawa guesses, and Atsushi nods, sheepish.
“Yeah.”
“Cup noodles are good for a lazy night,” Akutagawa tells him, “but there’s no nutrition in them, and they can hardly sustain you long term.”
“Are you… lecturing me, Akutagawa?”
Akutagawa coughs, then quickly takes a bite of his food. “Of course not.” He chews, chews, chews, swallows, and adverts his gaze. “You’ll come to dinner tomorrow night, as well.”
Atsushi doesn’t argue, but he does smile big and bright. It consumes his entire face, and Akutagawa, who has been aware of his feelings for quite awhile, feels doomed.
After their plates are cleared, Atsushi insists on doing the dishes, and Akutagawa agrees on the condition that he dries them. They stand side by side at the sink, Atsushi handing Akutagawa plates and utensils, pans and serving spoons. When their fingers brush, they both pause, and in an effort to escape an awkward situation, Akutagawa asks, “Why did you want my number?”
Atsushi drops a glass into bubbly water, splashing both of them. Akutagawa blinks a couple times in surprise, then snatches up Atsushi’s hand when he regains composure. “Are you alright?” he demands, twisting his hand up and down, looking over it for any cuts.
“I’m fine!” Atsushi laughs. “It was just slippery.” Akutagawa drops his hand, and they both turn back to their tasks. “I didn’t expect you to react like that, Akutagawa.”
“I’m an older brother,” he answers. “Now hurry up. I’m getting tired.”
They finish, and Akutagawa walks Atsushi to the door, hands in his pockets. Casual. Relaxed. Not at all nervous. “Can I really come back for dinner tomorrow?” Atsushi asks, and Akutagawa rolls his eyes.
“If you ask me one more time, no.”
He’s expecting Atsushi to smile or laugh, but he does neither. He just looks at Akutagawa, expression serious. “Thank you.”
Minutes later, after Atsushi has left, Akutagawa makes Gin a plate. He takes it to her room, and when he opens her door he isn’t surprised to see her standing in front of her door, arms held behind her back and looking like she just got caught.
Akutagawa hands her the plate. “Next time, I’d like it if you didn’t lie to our guest. Or listen in on our conversations.” She nods, serious, and takes a bite of her food.
“Oh, Akutagawa!” she coos, “this is delicious! I didn’t know you could cook!”
Akutagawa slams the door, retreating to his room with the sound of Gin’s laughter following him.
—
The next day, it is Gin’s turn to make dinner, and she makes curry. Again, Atsushi swallows his portion down in record speed as Akutagawa picks at his. Unlike the previous night, Gin joins them. She asks Atsushi all kinds of questions: about the agency, what he does there. About Dazai, about his other coworkers. About which one is his favorite, and what was their boss like.
Akutagawa is sure that Atsushi has never heard his sister talk so much, but he answers her questions, and asks her his own. Her coworkers. Her favorite. What did she do on her days off? Akutagawa listened, smiled when they each said something funny. Shook his head when Gin said something inappropriate.
After dinner, Gin is the one who clears their plates. She dumps them into the sink with a clatter, then announces that she’ll clean them later, and heads to her room. Akutagawa looks at Atsushi, waiting for him to speak, then clears his own throat when he doesn’t. “Should you get going?”
“Oh!” Atsushi starts, blinking at Akutagawa. “Yeah, I should. I definitely should.”
Again, Akutagawa walks Atsushi to the door, but this time he leans in close, lips next to his ear. “Gin is listening in, so let’s keep this goodbye short.” He feels Atsushi exhale, feels him shake with the breath, feels him whisper, “Okay.”
“I was wondering,” Atsushi whispers, “maybe tomorrow you could come to dinner at my place.”
At his place? Akutagawa wonders what that will be like, what it will look like. He nods curtly, then pulls back. Atsushi’s cheeks are a soft pink, his lips parted, and Akutagawa blinks at him.
He is infuriatingly beautiful.
“Tomorrow then,” Akutagawa says, and Atsushi exclaims, “Tomorrow!” only for Akutagawa to shush him and for him to repeat it in a whisper.
He leaves, and Akutagawa feels alive for the first time in years.
—
“Dinner? At the weretiger’s?” Chuuya’s voice, on the other end of the phone line, sounds shocked. “This is big news.”
Chuuya knows all about Akutagawa’s feelings, has known since he told Chuuya that he thought he was dying, faster than he has been, because his heart won’t stop pounding and his head won’t stop spinning, and it was all that stupid, stupid weretiger’s fault.
Chuuya had laughed, and diagnosed Akutagawa with being in love. Because Chuuya knew what that felt like, and was an expert. That’s why Akutagawa was calling him now. For advice.
“It isn’t that big,” Akutagawa lies. He’s sweating, and is grateful that Chuuya is not here to see it. He’d never live it down. “It’s a very small thing.”
“Sure, sure,” Chuuya laughs. “That’s why you’re calling me to tell me about it.”
“I’m calling because I have a question.” And because he wants Chuuya to know. Because Chuuya gets happy when Akutagawa gives him updates about his personal life, and when Chuuya is happy for him, it makes Akutagawa feel good. Warm.
“Alright. Shoot. What’s the question?”
“Should I bring something?”
Chuuya’s responding laughter is so loud that Akutagawa has to pull the phone away from his ear. When it sounds like his laughter is tapering off, Akutagawa presses the phone back against his ear, asks, “Are you quite done?”
“Sure, sure.” Chuuya giggles a couple more times. Clears his throat. Coughs. “Bring what kind of something? A wine accompaniment, dessert… condoms?”
Akutagawa chokes.
“Not condoms,” he gasps out. He takes a quick drink of water. “But maybe a dessert.”
“Hmm…,” Chuuya hums. Akutagawa can hear some kind of tapping in the background. “Well, what’s on the menu?”
“I have no idea.”
“Can the tiger even cook?”
“I have no idea.”
Chuuya snorts. “Okay, dessert then. You can’t bring wine, because you don’t know what you’re eating. Pairing is important.”
“Sure.”
“And, with a dessert, you’d elongate your time there.”
Akutagawa pauses. His face feels warm, flushed, sweaty. He’s so embarrassed, and Chuuya is so casual and teasing, and it makes it all worse. And still, the thought of more time with Atsushi… it’s enticing. “Dessert, then.”
Akutagawa hangs up before Chuuya’s boisterous laugh reaches his ears.
—
He arrives not a minute early, and not a minute late. Perfectly punctual, with a grocery store cake tucked in his arms. He knocks, just two quick raps of his knuckles against wood, and Atsushi opens immediately. He looks out of breath, like he just ran a marathon.
“Hey,” he gasps out. “You made it.”
“Of course I made it,” Akutagawa answers. The silence that follows is awkward; neither of them knowing what to say, what to do. He thrusts out the dessert, plastic lid making contact with Atsushi’s chest. “I brought cake.”
Atsushi takes it, startled. “You brought cake,” he repeats.
“Yes.”
“Oh. Good.” Another beat of silence.
“Can I come in?”
Startled, Atsushi takes a step back. “Sorry!” he exclaims. “Y-you can come in!” He moves from the doorway, and Akutagawa finally follows him in.
The weretiger’s home is… small. And bare. Very few belongings, aside from essentials. On the table is a bag of take out, the sticker sealing it shut still unbroken. Atsushi sets the cake down next to it, then turns to Akutagawa. “Well… this is it.” He holds out his arms. “It’s not much.”
“It’s perfect for one person,” Akutagawa offers.
“Kyouka lives here, too. She’s just not here right now.”
“Oh.” Akutagawa clears his throat. “Should we eat?”
Atsushi quickly grabs plates from his cupboard, setting them down on the table. “Okay, so,” he begins, brushing his hair behind his ear. Akutagawa’s eyes are locked on that ear, on the slope of his neck beneath it. “I don’t know how to cook. We established that the other day. I tried! But I… well, I burnt it.” He laughs nervously, and Akutagawa blinks. “So I placed an order at this restaurant down the road– extremely last minute, by the way– and ran there to pick it up. Then, right before you got here I realized…,” he laughs again, “I realized that it still smelled like burnt food in here! So I had to speed clean it.”
Akutagawa sniffs the air. Yes, underneath the scent of air freshener, he can vaguely detect the hint of burnt food. Atsushi opens the bag of take out, pulls out a few containers. “So,I hope you like it. I don’t really know what you like, so I just guessed based on what we ate at your house the past two nights.”
It’s some kind of noodle dish with vegetables, and it smells devine. Akutagawa doesn’t often eat take out– if he gets home from work too late to make dinner, he simply goes without. He cooks, or Gin cooks, or occasionally they go to Chuuya’s for a dinner party. “Take out is fine,” he tells the weretiger, and when he smiles at Akutagawa in response, Akutagawa decides that, actually, take out is his favorite food.
Atsushi divides the dish between their two plates, pours them two glasses of water, and they both stare at each other before taking their seats. They are quiet as they eat, just like the first time they shared a meal together; there is no Gin to buffer the silence, to lead the conversation, to make them both feel more comfortable in each others presence.
“This is good,” Akutagawa offers. “Better than I expected.”
“Haha, yeah…,” Atsushi trails off, taking another bite. “Thanks for bringing cake.”
“It was Chuuya’s idea.” He doesn’t know why he said that, why he shifted Atsushi’s thanks from him to Chuuya. Why couldn’t he just accept Atsushi’s praise? Mentally, he is kicking himself.
“Oh. I don’t really know Chuuya.”
“He’s a good person,” Akutagawa says, and Atsushi nods. He wonders if Atsushi believes him. If he believes that a high ranking member of the Port Mafia such as Chuuya could be a good person. He decides that, next time Chuuya throws a party, he will invite Atsushi to come along.
“How’s Gin today?” Atsushi asks. He looks at Akutagawa, finally makes eye contact with him for the first time tonight, and Akutagawa… well, he notices that Atsushi has a smudge of sauce across his cheek.
“She’s… fine,” he answers, distracted. “She’s the same as yesterday, I assume. You’ve got food on your face, Jinko.”
Atsushi’s face heats up, and he breaks eye contact as he rubs the opposite cheek with the back of his hand. “Did I get it?” he asks, looking up at Akutagawa once more, his eyes wide, concerned, embarrassed.
“N…No… Here.” Akutagawa picks up his napkin and leans across the table, wiping the sauce away. Their faces are close together, just inches apart, but Akutagawa leans back and away before he can think too hard about it. “There you are.”
“Thanks…”
They finish their meal, and Akutagawa cuts them two slices of cake.
“I can’t bake,” he admits. Atsushi looks up at him, mouth full, and blinks. “I can cook, but I can’t bake. That’s why I bought a cake from the store.”
Atsushi swallows, laughs. “Well, you’ve still got me beat. One out of two isn’t bad, you know.”
“I could teach you.” He says it before he has time to think it through. He’s often the type to act without thinking, and regretting his actions later. But with words… usually, he keeps them close to his chest, little secret things he wishes he could say, but can’t bring himself to. This is not one of those moments.
Again, Atsushi blinks. He cocks his head to the side, confused. Akutagawa hates how… cute… he looks. Akutagawa would bring the entire city of Yokohama to its knees to protect Atsushi’s innocence.
“To cook. I could teach you.”
His face lights up in a wide, brilliant smile. Ear to ear. “You’d really do that?”
“It’s a basic survival skill.” Akutagawa takes a bite of his cake, chews, swallows, and dabs at the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “You need to learn.”
Atsushi’s smile doesn’t die for the rest of the night, and after that, conversation comes easy. He asks questions about what Akutagawa will teach him to cook, when their first lesson will be, whose house it will be at. They decide to start immediately– tomorrow, back at Atsushi’s, and to start with something simple. And then soon, too soon, it is time to say goodnight.
“I have work tomorrow,” Atsushi says, following Akutagawa to the door.
“As do I.”
They both sigh. They both pause. Akutagawa’s hand is on the door knob, but he’s still turned to Atsushi. Again, they are only inches apart. “Tomorrow,” they both say. Atsushi smiles, small and soft, and Akutagawa’s lips quirk up as well.
And then, finally, a moment of bravery. Akutagawa places a hand on Atsushi’s shoulder, keeping him steady. Atsushi’s head tilts up as Akutagawa leans down, and their lips meet in a brief, over too soon, kiss.
Akutagawa straightens, and their eyes don’t stray from each other for a moment. “I had a good time tonight,” he tells the tiger, and Atsushi nods.
“I did, too.”
“I’m looking forward to tomorrow.”
And then they kiss again, just as quick, and Akutagawa is turning the door knob and stepping out into the night, hoping that tomorrow comes soon, and that there will be endless tomorrows after that.