Chapter Text
Ann:
When r u gonna invite me ovr?
Come onnnnnn
Uve been here 4 like MONTHS
Show me the place!!!!
Come onnnnnn
Gorooooo
Goro: Ann, it is 10 in the morning. You have a modeling gig right now.
Ann:
ok then mr punctuation
But I swear
They r just talking abt poses n stuff
Lift ur arm up blah blah
Gorooooo
Oooh
What abt flower boy
He works dwnstairs right
Goroooooooooo
Goroooooooooooo
Goro: Ann, you are a professional. Why are you texting on the job?
Ann:
but I want the DETAILSSSS
Tell me abt flower boy!
Goro:
He is an excellent rival, as I have already told you.
Quite intelligent.
…
Will inviting you over get you to focus on work?
Ann:
mmmmmayyybe
How bout more deets on flower boy
Goro: …You are not going to stop, are you?
Ann: nope
Goro: sigh.
Ann:
XD XD
did u srsly type sigh over text???
XD lollll
Goro: …Let me just text you my address.
Ann Takamaki swanned into Goro’s apartment with the sass of a runway star and the energy of an unstoppable hurricane, impeccably dressed to the nines in classic urban fashion, with a multicolor jacket and flared jeans hanging sharply over her combat boots, decked out in eye-catching color. She dramatically lifted her large sunglasses, leaving them perched atop her head, and cocked her head, hand on her hip.
“What is this I see?” she gasped in mock-astonishment, “Detective Akechi? In the flesh? I thought he had become a wild hermit after traveling to places unknown, but he has returned from the dead, folks!”
Goro rolled her eyes. “Nice to see you too, Ann.”
Ann cackled and swept her way inside, gently bumping his shoulder hello.
Ann Takamaki had moved from Europe to Japan for her last year of high school. Her father had moved from Japan to a graphic design job in Europe when Ann was very young, and had enrolled her in the same elementary school that Goro’s mother, a fresh divorcee with a substantial settlement who had decided to move herself and her young son to Europe as well, had decided to enroll Goro himself in. As the two not-quite-European but not-quite-Japanese students in the elementary school, Goro and Ann had… not exactly become fast friends at first, but after a not-insignificant amount of pigtail-pulling and classy insults, they had banded together to at least agree that they were the only ones allowed to cause trouble for each other. What followed was a three-year reign of terror as Goro and Ann, as elementary and soon middle-school students, skillfully and viciously defended their respective rights to tease the other against the entire school, while framing others for various wrongdoings with manipulation and skillful acting.
By their last year of middle school, the two had looked at each other, looked back over the campus they had worked together begrudgingly to reign terror and mischief upon, and finally firmly shook hands. Thus cementing one of the oddest yet closest friendships to this day.
Ann’s family had moved back to Japan as Goro started his last year of high school, but the two of them had managed to keep a fast friendship over long rambling texts (Goro) and intermittent food pictures and cat memes (Ann). Goro ensured their legacy of terror remained well into high school and graduated as the top student, while Ann had slowly but surely cemented her place in the modeling world.
She had been absolutely ecstatic to hear that he was moving to Japan, but had been too busy with her career to meet with him before now. If you asked her, it would be because Goro was a stingy hermit and hadn’t invited her yet, but details.
Of course, she had made sure to pester him to divulge every last tidbit of information about his burgeoning rivalry with Akira Kurusu, the sneaky gossip queen.
Ann strode confidently into the small apartment and began poking around, insatiably curious.
“Nice place you got here. A bit on the small side, but that’s Japan for you,” she commented idly. Goro hummed in absent agreement.
Her eyes caught on something in the room, and she immediately stopped. Goro nearly crashed into her back. He muffled a curse.
Ann suddenly spun around and dragged him into his small living room, abandoning him on the couch and flouncing down next to him.
“Well?” She hissed, visibly vibrating with excitement. Goro could swear her eyes had literal cartoon sparkles. “When were you going to tell me?”
Goro frowned, baffled. “Well, what?”
“Who’s the lucky guy?” She squealed, “tell me, tell me everything, oh my goodness Goro—”
“Wait, wait—” he held a hand up, “what do you mean, lucky guy?”
“Uh, come on, Goro, I know it’s not a girl, you don’t swing that way, frankly I’m amazed your crazy fangirls haven’t caught on yet! Well, that’s why I’m your friend and not them, but anyway—” She bounced once, twice, on the bed. “Now don’t try to change the subject, tell me!”
“Ann—” Goro broke off, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “I genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You never keep flowers from your fans! Except maybe the ones from flower boy,” she gushed. “I want to know who gave you those! ” Ann pointed to the shelf under the windowsill, where a row of mason jars gleamed in the sunlight, each containing a carefully cut and watered assortment of flowers. Her pointer finger shook in the air with barely contained eagerness.
Goro had endeavored to keep every single one, even the ones from the first days of his acquaintanceship with Akira, the flower taunts that had kickstarted their rivalry. Of course he had to, it was a challenge set to him by Akira, after all, to see whether he could take care of his flowers— well, not in so many words, but it was implied, right? His rival wouldn’t have chosen such a complex method of conveying messages otherwise. And Goro refused to lose to his arch rival. So far, he had done excellently in preserving them as much as possible, giving them plenty of sunlight, and researching the best nutrients to ensure the flowers stayed as healthy as possible.
"... The challenge bouquets?"
Ann blinked. “The what?”
Now it was Goro’s turn to be baffled. “You know, the ones from Akira?”
“... Flower boy gave you those?” Her voice was oddly hushed.
“Yes?” Goro tilted his head. “You know. Yellow roses for jealousy? And then the second one was hydrangeas, which I’m pretty sure are used for bragging or heartlessness. Then there’s the peony, which is for shame—”
He was broken off by the sound of loud, exuberant cackling.
“Oh my god! ” Ann wheezed, “those are from— oh my god! ”
Goro looked at her flatly. “Ann.”
“No, this is—oh that poor guy, oh my gosh—”
“Ann if you don’t tell me exactly what is happening I will tell every crepe stand you’re going on a diet for a month.”
“—No, it’s just—” Ann continued to cackle. “I feel so bad for him, oh my god, and you’ve been talking about him for so long I should have known —”
“ Ann. ”
“Okay, okay.” Ann’s giggles slowly subsided. “So obviously, you know Western flower language, right?”
“ Obviously, ” Goro repeated, slightly irritated. “European flower language dates back to before the Roman Empire, but it was the Victorian Era in Great Britain that really popularized the—”
Ann flapped a hand at him. “Okay, okay, but how did you find out about it?”
Goro glared at her, disgruntled from the interruption, but continued. “I’m a minor celebrity on top of being a detective. I’ve been on TV. I thought it prudent to at least have surface-level knowledge of different gestures of romantic value, so that I wouldn’t make a social faux-pas.”
Ann continued to grin stupidly. “Right, okay, Mr. Famous. So, then.” She leaned forward, resting her hand on her chin. “What do you know about hanakotoba?”
“Hanakotoba?” Goro frowned. “The Japanese art of flower arrangement. I think I remember reading something in a book… Oh.” He snapped his mouth shut.
Ann hummed encouragingly and raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. Goro wanted to smack it.
He closed his eyes. “They have different meanings here, don’t they.” It was not a question.
“Yep.” Ann’s answering chirp was disgustingly cheerful.
“ Fuck, ” he swore emphatically.
Ann simply started laughing her face off once more. “Those roses—” in between wheezes, she pointed to his first small bouquet, “—how many of them are there?”
“... Seven?” Goro replied.
“... Oh my gosh.”
“Ann.”
“ Oh my gosh. ” She was gleeful, like a cat that caught the canary and was looking forward to slowly savoring the meal, and Goro was liking absolutely none of this.
“ Ann. ”
“Okay, okay,” Ann quickly composed herself. Her blond pigtails flew from side to side as she shook her head. “Seven roses in hanakotoba means secret love.”
Goro froze.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh my gosh indeed.
“Yellow roses are also completely opposite the Western meaning,” Ann continued mercilessly, “they mean courage and inner strength. You were pretty tired that week, right? It was that big case with the artist, Madarame or something.”
Goro nodded numbly.
“He probably saw that you were having a hard time at work with the amount of coffee you were buying and wanted to encourage you. The peonies and hydrangeas came two days after, which is when the case concluded, right?”
He messed up.
“Oh my god, ” Goro swore under his breath. “Explain.”
Ann, damn her, giggled. “Peonies here mean bravery.”
“Dammit.” He rubbed his face. “… Do I want to ask about the hydrangeas?”
“Pride. He was proud of you for being brave. Or maybe that he liked your confidence and competence.”
Goro stayed silent.
Gradually, he became aware of a deep red flush bringing heat to the back of his neck, creeping all the way up his ears.
He was blushing. Like a freaking child. But blast it all, this was the sappiest, stupidest thing to ever grace his front door, and the guy was thoughtful as heck, and damn it all—
“He has a crush on me.”
“He has a crush on you,” Ann repeated, with a fake tone of commiseration that barely hid her glee.
Goro covered his now cherry-red face in his and muttered something incomprehensible.
“What was that?” Ann was merciless. He would absolutely be cutting off her crepe supply for this.
“Shove off.”
“Never,” she cackled.
“He’s just… oh my gosh, he’s sweet, ” Goro mumbled, “and he just kept giving me flowers, and they probably also have different meanings—”
“They do,” Ann interrupted shamelessly.
“— and he’s smart too—” Goro stopped.
Ann was grinning even wider than she had earlier. “You like him,” she accused.
“I like him,” Goro groaned into his hands once more.
Two hours later, a very red-faced Goro was still laying sprawled on his bed after having received the complete rundown of how much exactly he had missed from his downstairs florist neighbor for the past five months from an increasingly amused Ann. Aside from the sudden crash course in superficial hanakotoba, Goro had had learned three very important things: first, Ann was much more knowledgeable about flower language than he thought, even if that knowledge came with a generous tendency to gossip and giggle; second, that Akira Kurusu was scarily perceptive, ridiculously sweet, terribly romantic, and an absolute sap; and finally Goro was an oblivious idiot of the greatest proportion, and currently incredibly flustered and very, very touched.
Apparently each and every single flower he had received had a separate meaning that created a bouquet of sweet, encouraging, and subtly romantic messages the entire time, and Goro had absolutely no idea. Which brought him to his current predicament.
How on earth was he ever going to face Akira?
He wasn’t, that was the answer.
He was not going to face Akira.
That was the plan. He could do this. He could sneak out the back way earlier in the morning and avoid the stupidly sweet, stupidly kind guy at the front of the shop. Probably forever.
Yes, that sounded like an excellent plan.
Of course, he should have known no plan survives contact with Ann Takamaki.
“Soooo, have you talked to him yet?” Ann’s eager voice came through the tinny phone speaker.
It was only when he was faced with a 5 foot 5 inch bundle of righteous exasperation by the name of Ann Takamaki pounding at his apartment door that Goro let himself acknowledge that maybe, maybe the silence on his end of the line was rather telling.
“Goro! You absolute idiot, if you don’t get your ass out here right now, I’m going to go introduce myself to Flower Boy downstairs without you!”
Goro swore vehemently and leaped up, racing to the door and skidding around the corner, catching sight of the end of one of Ann’s bright blond pigtails sweeping down the stairs.
“Ann! Don’t you dare!” Goro hissed, taking the stairs two at a time. “ Ann. ”
“Absolutely not,” she yelled back, “you are being an idiot. I never took you for a coward, Akechi. ”
Goro hissed sharply and barrelled on behind her without words but with racing thoughts.
This is a terrible idea. How am I supposed to face him? I haven’t even prepared anything, I don’t have the right words practiced, maybe I can—no, he completely saw through my TV smile every single time. Oh my god, this will be an absolute disaster.
“Hello! I’m Ann Takamaki!” Ann’s cheerful voice came from the open room as Goro quickly descended the last couple steps, desperately fixing his shirt and throwing on a random wide smile that was absolutely the worst attempt at an expression he had ever made. “I’m a friend of Goro Akechi’s!”
Goro immediately stopped right before the entrance to the flower shop and ducked behind the threshold, heart racing, frozen stiff.
Ann Takamaki, prepare to have absolutely no crepes for the next goddamn forever.
“Oh!” Akira’s voice replied, and Goro felt the air returning to him. How had never noticed just how much he missed that voice? Missed their banter? His sass, how Akira meticulously picked apart his TV appearances and made fun of their least favorite anchors with him? It felt like his chest expanded as breath returned to his lungs. “It’s a pleasure! Thank you for taking care of Goro, and I’m glad to hear that he has good friends.”
Dammit, how could he not notice how fond Akira sounded when he talked about him?
If Goro noticed, then Ann absolutely did. He could practically hear the grin in her voice when she spoke. “Yes, Goro told me a lot about you.”
“Oh!” Akira sounded so surprised. “That’s nice to hear. All good things, I hope.” And now the teasing note in his voice was back along with his grin. Goro could see it in his mind’s eye, a brief flash of sharp teeth behind curved lips and a teasing crinkle in his eye.
He was going to perish.
“Oh, absolutely.” From his place behind the door frame, Goro could barely see the flash of pink and white from Ann’s shirt as she leaned forward. “Definitely good.”
“Um.” And now Akira sounded flustered. This was not good for his heart. Not at all. Why oh why had he ever thought inviting Ann Takamaki over was a good idea?
“Well, I’ll be looking forward to seeing you around, Kurusu!” Goro watched as Ann leaned back, cheerfully flipped her hair, and spun around out the door, grabbing Goro by the elbow as she passed and dragging him down the sidewalk until the flower shop was no longer in view.
A block and a half down, Ann finally slowed to a stop, Goro taking the time to compose himself now that he wasn’t being dragged down the street. He straightened his shirt, tugging on it out of habit and awkwardly brushing himself down. There. Now he looked presentable enough…
Oh, who am I kidding, I’m an absolute mess.
Ann giggled, spinning on her heel.
“Okay, yeah, he’s adorable and a gentleman,” she freely admitted, “if you don’t end up dating him, I want a go.” Goro sputtered and glared at her and she grinned back unrepentantly. “So? How are we going to do this?”
Goro stopped and stared.
“What?” Ann frowned. “You didn’t seriously think you’d be planning this alone, did you? Absolutely not. Knowing you, you’d chicken out and get something generic like perfume or whatever.” Goro huffed. Ann gave him a pointed look.
She’s never going to let me live her first birthday party down is she? Besides, perfume was a perfectly acceptable gift for a girl I just barely met, how was I supposed to know she was allergic?
“And besides…” Ann gently bumped her side against Goro’s elbow. “We’re friends, Akechi. I’m not about to let you do this alone.” Goro awkwardly bumped his elbow back against hers, at a loss for words.
“Plus, this way I get to record all of the embarrassing moments for peak blackmail.”
Goro elbowed her harder as she cackled.
Ann, as expected, had made sure to positively grill Goro on all of the details, down to the most minute. If this was payment for her presence, Goro… didn’t actually mind that much. Not that he would ever tell Ann. In the process Ann had made absolutely sure that Goro realized that yeah, he was also falling hard for the really cute florist the whole time, from every single conversation filled with snark and intellectual debates and genuine and mistaken challenges.
Goro blushed bright, bright red.
“I’m so proud of you,” Ann cried, “my baby friend Goro is finally getting to know more people!”
Goro felt perfectly justified in kicking her shin for that one.
But Ann made up for it in his eyes by letting herself be dragged around town to shop after shop, because Goro was nothing if not intent on finding the absolute best damn bouquet he could.
Even if his friend was intent on complaining every five minutes.
“Just buy a red rose, that’s pretty much the same all over the world.” Ann sighed dramatically as they exited the fourth flower shop in a row.
“Absolutely not,” Goro huffed, “I will not be choosing the default option merely because I could not come up with anything more compelling.”
“Seriously, I love you Goro, but you can stand to be a little less perfectionist.”
Goro gave her the stink eye.
Ann rolled her eyes and sighed. “Fiiiine.” And promptly dragged him into another shop.
Ann was great.
“Azalea?” Ann pointed to the display, “it means patience. God knows he has a lot of it to put up with you.”
Goro was getting quite a lot of practice with his stink eyes, as he always seemed to do when Ann came over to visit. “No.”
Ann simply took it in stride. “Gardenia for secret love?”
“Not so secret if I’m confessing, is it?”
“Carnations?”
Goro shook his head. Ann sighed in exasperation, but instead of making another comment simply dragged him to the next store.
And the next. And…
In the end, Ann took one look at his assembled bouquet and smirked.
“You’re really a go-big or go-home guy, aren’t you?”
Goro huffed haughtily, grabbed his bouquet from her hands, and stalked past her as she laughed.
And so, Goro squared his shoulders and walked into the flower shop.
It felt like there should be some kind of moment to commemorate the occasion. Maybe some boss music playing.
Or maybe Ann Takamaki was influencing him more than Goro would like.
Goro had made double, triple sure that absolutely nothing was left up to chance, in either European flower language or Hanakotoba. He had made absolutely sure the meaning was the same in both languages. Ann had been an invaluable resource despite her numerous grumblings.
He carefully set the flowers down on the counter. The arrangement was a delicate mix of bluebells, white camellias, and a heart-shaped splash of red of three red roses nestled in the center.
Thank you for your patience with me, I am sorry to keep you waiting. Your feelings are returned.
In front of him, Akira’s eyes went wide, staring at the beautifully arranged bouquet. The wrapping paper made a faint crackling noise in the peaceful silence of the shop as Goro let it rest on the counter.
He took a deep breath in and squared his shoulders. Alright, Goro. Just be smooth. Ann gave you a bunch of ideas, you can use one of those—
“Would you be my boyfriend?”
Dammit.
Where the heck had all his usual smoothness gone?
What the hell, brain??
Somewhere behind him, Goro could hear the distinct thwack! of Ann’s palm hitting her forehead and the muffled sound of hysterical laughter.
I am going to shut down all the crepe stands in the prefecture, goddammit.
And then Akira beamed, and all thoughts of vengeance completely fled from Goro’s mind.
“Oh,” the florist whispered. Goro felt the unprecedented urge to fidget.
He would not. He was the Detective Prince. He was the epitome of cool, calm, suave, and collected. He had never fidgeted before, and would not start now , no matter how much his instincts were screaming at him to flee.
The florist blinked and stared up at him with big, stunned eyes and a wide smile that reminded Goro of a golden retriever puppy that one of his classmates had brought to school in middle school. It had snuffled around curiously as the class of young teens collectively lost their shit, and proceeded to curl up on Goro’s side of the room to watch the chaos with an innocent, happy smile.
“Y-yes,” Akira stuttered.
Goro froze.
“Um,” he said eloquently.
Akira chuckled, and Goro’s mind immediately captured the sound to play on repeat.
“Yes,” he repeated, more confidently this time.
Goro stared at him. Then began to grin. “Yes?”
“Yes,” Akira nodded, still smiling.
Yes, Goro’s brain played on repeat, yes, yes, yes!
“It’s a beautiful bouquet, thank you,” Akira belatedly startled and told him, “Futaba—my sister, adopted actually, I live with Sojiro—”
The coffee shop owner next door was this man’s adoptive father? Could Goro be any damn luckier? What the hell?
Then he realized: oh no. I am going to get the most effective shovel talk of all time, from the only store I have found in the area that actually sells good coffee. Goro could faintly see his own doom approaching slowly.
But Akira was still talking, and anything Akira said was vastly more important than pondering his own potential death by coffee-deprivation.
“—kept needling me to actually say something because, and I quote, ‘not everyone understands flower language, idiot!’” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly and Goro couldn’t help but track the movement of his fluffy hair. His own fingers twitched. “So, yeah.”
The florist blushed beet-red, mortified.
It was the most goddamn adorable thing ever, and Goro almost— almost —hated it.
“I only know Western flower language,” Goro offered. He could feel the tips of own ears start to heat.
“Oh.” A pause. “I just assumed you had no idea about flower language the whole time.” Akira winced.
They shared a brief moment of commiserating, mortified silence. Goro did his best to ignore Ann’s quiet hysterical cackles in the background.
“So, uh—”
“Yes.” Akira snatched the bouquet from the counter and cradled it protectively, blushing furiously up to the tips of his ears. “Tomorrow, at three. Meet here.” He backed away and sprinted behind the “employees only” curtain. A few seconds later, Goro could hear the clanking of glass vases and the hush of running water.
Goro watched him go with a dopey grin on his face.
Ann sidled up to him.
“Whipped,” she commented.
Goro didn’t even deign her with a reply.
Ann:
Sooo?
Hows the boyfriend??
Has flower boy laughed @ ur txting skllz yet
Goro:
He sent me a picture of him and his cat.
mona.jpg
akiraandmona.jpg
This has made my day.
I adore him.
Ann: I think I liked you better single <3
Goro uncharacteristically decided to send her an emoji: the middle finger.
Ann: An emoji!!! Im so proud of u
Goro sent her two middle fingers.
On their second date, they hopped from secondhand bookstore to secondhand bookstore, and bought every regional flower language dictionary they could find.
At the very least, they would laugh quite a bit reading them to each other. And soon enough, like all things with Akira and Goro, it grew into a rather elaborate competition over who could interpret various regional meanings and send the most complex message with their bouquets.
Having an intellectual rival as a partner was absolutely never more fun.
Akira, the absolute sap, told him once that he had never been more grateful that his confessions had been lost in translation.
Fin.