Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You look tired enough to fistfight God.”

The sentence from out of the blue interrupted Goro’s daily appreciation for good coffee and the wonders of living right next door to one of the greatest coffee shops in Tokyo. If this coffee was the result of his sudden move to Japan, Goro had absolutely no regrets. Unfortunately, he hadn’t yet managed to find any other coffee shops that even touched the bare minimum, aside from his next-door neighbor, so Goro was inclined to hedge his bets on the outcome. To be fair, he had not spent nearly enough time in Japan yet, let alone Tokyo, to fully investigate the culinary scene after only having arrived for a couple days.

And based on the sudden voice from his right, Goro would have to put off his exploration for just a bit longer.

He looked up and locked eyes with the person who had made the untimely comment.

“Um.” The man’s expression looked like the picture of instant regret. It was the florist who manned the counter every weekday in the shop under his apartment. Sakurai had mentioned that he would be living over the flower shop that she had turned over to her protégé before retiring, but in the week or so that he had arrived Goro had only really seen the florist through the window as he ran around to finalize the move. The man was of a middling height, stick-thin but with decent muscle, with an outrageously messy mop of black hair and steel gray eyes hidden behind glasses, and Goro had the sudden intrusive thought that his gaze would pierce through his soul had there not been a barrier of glass. He wore a brown apron with smudges of dirt and water stains and a pocket full of gardening tools, and currently sported a rather obvious embarrassed blush. 

Goro carefully assessed the situation with the ease of someone long accustomed to public interaction.

A joke first, and then a laugh. Then smile and move on.

“You’re not wrong there,” Goro commented mildly into his coffee cup, “if God were to get between me and my coffee.” He chuckled. The man laughed lightly with him.

“In that case…” The florist went to the wall and started rummaging, bringing out a strip of ribbon, some scissors and a bit of tape. After a few moments which Goro took to savor another couple sips of coffee, he looked back up. “Here.” He held out a bouquet of seven yellow roses.

Goro blinked. “Thanks?” He awkwardly took the bouquet. “Uh, should I pay, or…?”

“Oh! No, no, don’t worry!” The black-haired florist quickly waved his hands around. “It’s for you. Um. Because you looked really tired.”

Goro tilted his head. “You gave me flowers because I’m tired?” And yellow roses, at that?

The guy nodded quickly, his black curls bouncing. “Yep! I thought they would brighten up your apartment. You live upstairs, right? I’m Akira Kurusu, the florist who used to run the shop hired me when she retired. I live above the cafe next door so it works out great.” Kurusu grinned at him and Goro found himself instinctively smiling back, then quickly stretched it into one of his practiced charming smiles.

“Goro Akechi,” Goro replied, “I live upstairs, as you mentioned. I think we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.” 

Damn, Kurusu’s smile was as bright as the yellow of the roses in Goro’s hand. He seemed so genuinely happy to hear Goro’s words. Maybe he just didn’t know that yellow roses had a negative meaning in flower language?

“Well,” Goro carefully let a thread of disappointment color his perfect smile, “I am afraid I must be off to work. Perhaps we can talk some other time?”

“Of course!” Kurusu nodded. “You’re a detective, right? I see you on TV sometimes.” Goro stiffened, but thankfully Kurusu continued on. “Good luck at work, then. See you later!” He beamed again.

He seems nice, Goro mused, if a little scatterbrained. He turned to leave.

“Oh! And Akechi?” Kurusu called out with a stupidly bright voice, but there was an undercurrent of… sympathy? Concern? Whatever it was, it suddenly put Goro on edge. “You don’t have to smile like that all the time. This is your home too, after all.”

Goro froze. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he heard himself say, his smile stretching wider across his face, fake and bright and practiced so that it would not be obvious, and yet this Kurusu seemed to see through it effortlessly. “If you will excuse me.”

On second thought, Kurusu the florist was absolutely smart enough to know that yellow roses signified extreme betrayal and intense jealousy.

It seemed that Goro had found a rival.

Sakurai was an old contact of Goro’s mom from her high school days, who had dropped ever so slowly out of contact over the years — probably until he found Goro’s face plastered over various billboards as a child celebrity detective, Goro thought with no small amount of bitterness. After that, he was more than happy to reach out and invite him to visit his mother’s homeland in Japan.

Goro probably should cut the man some slack… He had seemed genuinely appreciative of his old friendship with Goro’s mother, and genuinely regretful to hear of her passing. And the fact that he had invited Goro to stay in his old apartment at a dirt-cheap price as he retired and moved to his family’s small house in the countryside to knit or garden vegetables or whatever the heck he had decided to do with his old age.

But damn was it hard to not blame him just a little, when the first Goro heard of the man was when his own face was plastered on the street right before his eyes. When he was so used to expecting sycophantic behavior everywhere he looked. In the end, it seemed better for both of them to put some distance between them.

Kurusu, however… Kurusu was a surprise. Goro hadn’t expected Sakurai’s protégé to be so… eager? Discerning? Disarming?

On second thought, Sakurai did tend to like the witty, interesting ones. Goro and his mother being the prime examples. He himself had a fairly well-hidden vicious streak, and Goro had vague memories of the man fiercely enjoying debating law and justice with his mother.

… Perhaps his protégé would be the same? It certainly seemed that way, what with the man’s challenge-bouquet.

In the end, it would be nice to have someone to engage with, other than Ann — even if that man infuriated him and could read his fake smiles disconcertingly easily.

At least Goro wasn’t completely alone in his not-homeland.

He smoothly pulled his phone out of his pocket and flipped it around, sending off a brief message. The phone immediately pinged back incessantly.

Goro: Arrived in Japan.

Ann: omg finally
When r we gonna meet
U gotta let me kno

Goro scoffed, pointedly ignoring the fond note that managed to creep into his thoughts when he wasn’t paying attention. Ann knew all the best ways to push people’s buttons, which, unfortunately for him, included atrocious texting skills. Of course, he gave as good as he got. Maybe that was why they got along so well.

Goro: Your spelling is atrocious as always.

Ann: n u type like u ate a dictionary
Telllll meeeeee
We haven’t seen each other in AGESSSS

Goro: I just barely moved in, I’ll let you know when my apartment is ready for guests.

Ann: :(

Goro: Don’t you also have work to do?

Ann: :(((

Goro plonked the full coffee cup down onto the counter in front of him.

“I brought coffee.”

Kurusu bounced into the room and grinned at him. “Thank you, Akechi!”

Goro smiled gently at him and sipped his own container.

“You really don’t have to smile like that if you don’t want to,” Kurusu commented after a moment of silence.

Goro’s mouth twitched and he quickly brought it back under control before his smile became a grimace. “Of course,” was all he let himself say. He took another sip.

The room fell quiet in the early morning light once more. Goro weathered the weight of it with practiced ease, slipping into his familiar persona to stave off the awkwardness of close proximity to a relative stranger. Particularly, one that Goro was fairly sure disliked him, if the yellow roses were anything to go by.

After a moment, his mind wandered to the court case he was tied up in. Some famous artist had recently been exposed by his student for plagiarism, and of course with such a high-profile case they absolutely needed celebrity detective Goro Akechi to take the investigation. It was a thorny one, a lot of he-said-she-said, and the tricky red tape that came with custody and corrupted familial ties. 

Well, he supposed being seen as a competent investigator as well as an effective publicity stunt was better than being seen as a glass doll, pretty for display but not much else. But he needed every cup of coffee he could get, and hopefully these offerings would put him on at least a bit more of an even relationship with Kurusu—it wasn’t great to be fighting with a neighbor.

“Oh!” Kurusu broke the silence, startling him out of his thoughts. “That reminds me.”

He reached down behind the counter and slid his hand along the shelf, grabbing something that crinkled with the distinctive sound of plastic wrapping paper as it moved. 

“This is for you. I wish you luck on your case.”

Kurusu gently held out a voluminous bouquet. It was a tasteful arrangement of blue and white hydrangeas, with a cluster of white peonies at the centerpiece. 

Oh for goodness’ sake.

Goro carefully took the bouquet and cradled it in his arms. He smiled at the florist. “It’s beautiful, thank you.”

It was official. Kurusu definitely hated him.

Goro: I have a rival.

Ann: wtf???

Goro: It’s the florist who lives on the floor below me.

Ann: ???

Goro: I swear he is challenging me. It’s infuriating.

Ann: ??????????
Context pls

Goro: He gave me a bouquet that means distrust and refusal.

Ann: lolllll detective prince gettin cold shouldered

Goro: He is irritating.

Ann: XD XD XD
dont worry summer child he’ll get used 2 u
Or i can come ovr n talk to him

Goro: …
No.

Smack!

The black short-cuff glove bounced a bit when it hit the table. Goro glared at Kurusu, who was looking down at the countertop and its new accessory in bewilderment.

It had been a long month since his move, and things had failed to die down after the chaos of the initial move. Seemingly as soon as he had broken down and recycled the last cardboard box, a sudden influx of court cases and agency calls had flooded his phone and email, dragging him to his new office and forcing him to speed through paperwork every night. Ever punctual, Goro managed to return home at a similar time, arriving just an hour or so before the flower shop’s closing time. To his slight vexation and infinite delight Kurusu was just as knowledgeable in law as his mentor Sakurai, and significantly more eager to debate. It had become a welcome habit of his to enter the shop and stand to the side, firing question after question towards the florist and having him fire back his own with equal energy and insightfulness. The competitive fire he could see flaring in Kurusu’s eyes ignited his desire to poke and prod and battle with his words.

It was stupidly wonderful.

But Goro was frustrated, because the damn man hadn’t accepted his unspoken rivalry challenge yet.

“Er, Akechi?” the florist asked hesitantly. “I don’t think we sell these kinds of gloves?”

Goro’s eye twitched once.

“No,” he replied—perfectly cheerfully, thank you very much— “you do not.”

Kurusu blinked. “Then, is this a customer’s lost glove…?”

Goro’s eye was twitching quite frequently now.

“No.” He smiled gently, fists white-knuckled where they couldn’t be seen behind the counter.

I know you know this, Goro seethed inwardly, now pick up the glove and accept my challenge.

“Then…?” Kurusu tilted head, and Goro was struck with the sudden thought that his face suddenly looked incredibly irritating.

He would absolutely not give this infuriating moron of a rival the satisfaction of spelling it out for him.

“It is for you,” was all Goro let himself say. His right hand—with the other glove of the pair—twitched. He glared.

If you want to feel superior, I’m not going to give you any more ammunition.  

Goro watched as Kurusu’s face went through a series of odd expressions—surprise at the glove, shock upon seeing Goro’s right hand—and settled into a wide, happy smile.

Goro frowned. He couldn’t see any signs of faking emotions on Kurusu. Maybe he just was that happy at having formally established their rivalry.

Weird guy.

“Oh! Wait just one moment!” Kurusu beamed, and vaulted over the counter to sprint to a corner of the store. Goro could only blink as he sped by, stunned.

Well then. Maybe he should add some kind of acrobatics to his list of Kurusu’s known skills, if that perfect form of swinging himself over the counter was anything to go by.

“Wait…” what about an answer to his duel request—? Was he going to do it in flowers?

Goro’s reasoning quickly caught up to his distracted brain as he turned to watch his rival carefully wrapping his selected blossoms in a cheerful yellow ribbon, holding it out in offering.

Lavender, dotted with small yellow and purple carnations. It was a very pretty bouquet.

It also was the flower equivalent of a middle finger.

Goro could feel a vein throbbing in his forehead.

Asshole.

Goro grabbed the bouquet, careful not to squish the plants— he refused to be rude, at the least—gave Kurusu the brightest, fakest damn smile he could, whirled on his heel, and stalked out the door.

(His back turned, Goro did not see the fond, happy smile on Kurusu’s face as he carefully slipped the black glove—a matching gift! From Akechi!—into the pocket of his work apron right over his heart.)

Ann: can i just say i think its hilarious that YOU of all ppl live above a flower shop

Goro: What is that supposed to mean?

Ann: nothing, just thinking abt the number of fan bouquets youve thrown away
Ur dumpster at one point was nothing but flowers
Ur trashcan is prbbly right at home next 2 the shop

Goro: …

Ann: youre throwing away the flowers, right
…

Goro: …

Ann: oh my god

Goro: Ann.

Ann: OH MY GOD

Goro stood in front of the godforsaken counter of the flower shop, yet again, wondering, again not for the first time, why on earth he was inflicting this upon himself.

It was most likely because he wanted to have a better relationship with his downstairs neighbor, and take advantage of the presence of a quick mind to sharpen his intellectual skills.

Ann would say it was because he was a self-flagellating perfectionist who didn’t know how to leave well enough alone.

Ann’s crepe budget frequently drastically decreased, so really, who was right here?

Goro sighed, and looked back up at Kurusu, who looked to all the world like a deer in headlights. His enormous gray eyes were wide behind his glasses, his rat’s nest of hair somehow messier, with twigs and stray bits of leaves peeking out every so often from messy tufts of black hair. His apron was smudged through with dirt and water stains from emptying and refilling the pots, and a mop lay abandoned on the ground where it had fallen two seconds prior.

It was clear, from both his state of general disarray and from the fact that the flower shop had not yet opened yet, that Kurusu was not expecting the need to look presentable for anyone in his shop at this hour.

Hah, Goro cheered internally, advantage to me.

Sadly, Kurusu was able to collect himself quickly, and within moments had stood straight and was staring at him with his full attention.

“Sorry,” Kurusu said awkwardly, big gray eyes curving into a sheepish smile, “but could you repeat that question again?”

“Would you like to compete in a friendly game of pool?” Goro repeated. “Penguin Sniper is advertising discounts at this time.” And who better to play against than my rival?

Kurusu’s eyes lit up. “Absolutely!”

“Excellent.” Goro nodded sharply. “I’ll wait for you to get ready then.”

Kurusu gave him another beaming smile—it was oddly distracting, and Goro forgot what he wanted to say for a moment, before Kurusu quickly ducked behind the employees-only curtain at the back of the room.

Barely five minutes later, he emerged without his apron, face rinsed and debris mostly picked out of his hair—Goro was fairly sure there was some leaf or twig or something stuck in the mass somewhere, because it was physically impossible to fully untangle the mess in under five minutes—but it looked good enough so he would let it lie.

He spun on his heel and strode out the door, Kurusu following with a bounce in his step.

Penguin Sniper was on the more crowded side this evening, though that still meant that there was a decent space at the bar. A couple was playing at the billiards table, but vacated within a dozen minutes, and Goro smoothly slid into place at the table, plucking a cue from the side and spinning it in his hands.

“Um,” Kurusu coughed. Goro looked up. “Is this a bad time to say I don’t know how to play?”

Goro’s eye was twitching again. He barely stifled a long sigh.

“I’ll just have to teach you.”

He ignored the happy warmth he felt when his rival’s eyes lit up in excitement.

Goro, unsurprisingly, demolished Kurusu in the first game. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Kurusu stared at the hole where Goro’s final ball had fallen, lost in thought. This was the moment of truth; would Kurusu live up to the expectations that he had cultivated? Would Goro be disappointed by a fake smile and a reluctance to return, or would he rise to the challenge? 

This was the man who was not afraid to give him a bouquet of insults, to debate the fine line between Aristotle’s genius and idiocy, to twist his words around Goro’s own in verbal spars like fencers advancing and retreating in beautiful conflict. Between the normal reaction of shrinking back and sycophantically pandering to Goro’s ego, and rudely but passionately challenging him again, Goro dearly hoped for the latter.

He was not disappointed.

Kurusu’s gaze found his own, a competitive fire burning bright-hot and eager. He grinned, and it was a more animalistic edge than Goro had seen before. Goro barely noticed his own heartbeat speeding up.

“Again,” he demanded, and Goro laughed.

By the end of the night, Goro was still winning—but only just. It was, without a doubt, the most fun he had ever had.

“You are truly a worthy rival, Kurusu,” Goro hummed.

“Please call me Akira,” Kurusu— Akira beamed at him. Goro blinked and snapped his attention back to the words from where he had gotten distracted by just how genuine the smile was compared to his own canned and ready-for-TV grins.

“Alright, Akira,” Goro found himself saying automatically. Then he hesitated.

It wasn’t like… he needed to, right? It was just a name. And the last person who had called him that—aside from Ann, but Ann was a special case and stubborn to a fault—died when he was thirteen, along with Goro’s hopes for any kind of family. His mother had always been the one to tell him to chase his dreams, but after her death he had to be the one to pick himself up and Ann had been the one to make him keep moving.

But… this was his rival. This was Akira.

“You can try… calling me Goro.” The words escaped in a mutter.

And when Akira beamed like Goro had given him the sun, he felt a matching star of warmth in his chest.

Akira was still an asshole, though.

Ann: soooo
Gimme the deets

Goro: Ann it’s 2AM.

Ann: Says th person who called me at 1am 2 rant abt homeless greek guy

Goro: Diogenes.

Ann: potato potato

Goro: You spelled it the same way twice.

Ann: shush u kno what i mean
Now spill

Goro: I have absolutely no idea which of the myriad details about my life you could possibly consider important enough for a 2:15AM conversation.

Ann: flower boy!

Goro: Flower boy?

Ann: u kno
The florist
Ur “rival”

Goro: Akira.

Ann: ooooo its akira nowwwww

Goro: And why did you put quotation marks around the word rival?

Ann: summer child

Goro: Ann.

Ann: i just wanna hear abt ur crush on flower boy

Goro: I do not have a crush on Akira.

Ann: u keep his flowers
<.< sus :D

Goro: I’m going to sleep.

Kurusu’s— Akira’s next bouquet was pretty much entirely unprompted.

Goro stared down, bewildered at the three, comically large sunflowers in his hands. Their bright yellow petals were almost incongruously cheery compared to the cloudy sky outside. 

It had been barely two days since the pool match where Kurus— Akira had cemented himself as a far worthier rival than Goro had initially suspected—his arch rival, if you will, because there was no way in all the world he would let someone as fascinating as Akira go. From not knowing the rules of billiards to being able to almost compete with Goro, Akira’s talent for picking up skills quickly was nearly unparalleled, not to mention his skill in casual conversation. Goro did not try too hard to hide just how ecstatic he was to find someone with whom he could debate advanced philosophy, never mind Akira’s baffling habit of exploring every side of an argument before allowing the debate to close. Or Akira’s continued insistence that Goro drop formalities, and how he visibly wrinkled his nose every time Goro attempted to use his TV-approved smile no matter who it was directed at, but well… that was what a good rival would do, so Goro could only continue to take Akira’s idiosyncrasies in stride. 

And maybe a little fondness.

Goro couldn’t wait for more pool matches in the future.

But first, he had to solve the problem of this cluster of sunflowers. 

Sunflowers… Longevity, loyalty, friendship… Maybe this was Akira’s way of finally acknowledging how well their rivalry was going? It seemed Akira was enjoying their competition, and wished it would continue for some time. Well, excellent.

Goro smiled to himself. Why did that thought make him so giddy?

Was Akira, perhaps, finally warming to the idea of a friendship?

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.