Work Text:
Despite his amiable first meeting with Atsushi at the cafe on the Agency’s first floor a few years ago, Akutagawa still would have never thought he’d be once again in a friendly situation with the white reaper of Port Mafia, let alone cook with him.
Alas, here they were—making curry for Oda and the orphans under his care.
Akutagawa tried not to look out of place prepping the kitchen. He had cooked before, of course. Only a fool would not know how to. Still, it was a new experience for him; cutting vegetables and waiting for the meat to thaw seemed too ordinary compared to what he and Atsushi were used to slicing for. . . work, not to mention the mere idea of cooking with someone was as foreign as things could be.
He wasn’t exhilarated about cooking with Atsushi. Nope. Impossible.
(It was a good thing nobody could hear his racing heart.)
“Hey, Akutagawa...” Atsushi trailed off, glancing at Akutagawa. “You’ve cooked before, right?”
Akutagawa nodded, humming as he tied a pink apron around his waist. Atsushi jumped when Akutagawa went to help him with his own apron, but didn’t say anything. Akutagawa took this as a sign to continue, leaning down to look for the two strings before carefully tying them together in a ribbon. He finished it off with a gentle but firm tug, the fabric fitting Atsushi quite snugly.
Atsushi shifted his weight from one foot to the other, glancing at Akutagawa over his shoulder. Akutagawa raised a brow in question, but Atsushi ducked his head in response.
“Is that alright for you Atsushi?” Akutagawa asked instead, wondering if he offended Atsushi somehow. It wouldn’t be the first time that he had reacted like that, after all.
Atsushi looked up, t he blend of purple and yellow not unlike the color of the sun and midnight sky trapped and frozen together in his eyes.
They’re more vibrant than before, the older noted, still mesmerized by such a sight.
“Yeah,” Atsushi said and for the briefest moment, Akutagawa had no clue what he meant. The moment of confusion seemed to amuse Atsushi for his eyes sparkled even more.
Akutagawa could remember a time when only agony and regret occupied those very same eyes.
Happiness suited Atsushi more than anything else, that was for sure.
It was only when Atsushi smiled brightly and opened his mouth to speak again that Akutagawa was pulled away from his thoughts. Straightening, he coughed into his fist. “Let’s start, shall we?”
Blinking, Atsushi nodded and retrieved the cookbook on the counter near the row of pots, flipping through the pages until he found the recipe for curry. "Why are we cooking curry for him anyway? Doesn’t his friend own a restaurant that serves it?"
Akutagawa shrugged, not knowing the answer himself. “Oda-san is also mysterious like the man in black,” he reasoned solemnly. Akutagawa glanced at Atsushi, making sure he didn’t offend him again, as Atsushi had known the man in black, more commonly known as the former Port Mafia boss, longer than Akutagawa had.
To this day, they still had doubts about Dazai’s last words.
Atsushi didn’t so much as blink, although he turned around in search of something. “What day is it today?”
“February 14, Valentine’s day.”
Atsushi visibly blanched for reasons Akutagawa cannot fathom. “Va-Valentine’s Day? !”
Akutagawa chose to work in silence after that, Atsushi following suit with a deep-set frown. Akutagawa would ask him, but the other man didn’t seem to be too troubled. Besides, they had to finish this task soon anyway.
The two of them fell into step with each other’s role in the kitchen, quietly immersing themselves with the cutting and peeling of the ingredients.
Akutagawa had already peeled four potatoes when he went to peek at Atsushi’s progress—frankly, t he younger wasn’t doing too well. He was struggling to peel his second carrot, his movements slow and uncertain.
“You doing alright there, Atsushi?” Akutagawa asked as he tried to get a better view.
“Not really,” Atsushi admitted with a strained chuckle, finally (and thankfully) finishing the carrot in his hand. “I’ve never really cooked before, but knowing that you have is reassuring.”
Akutagawa nodded in thought, missing the blush that bloomed across Atsushi’s cheeks. I feel the same way too, was what he would have said if he didn’t find the thought embarrassing even for himself, already feeling the warmth creeping up his face.
Atsushi didn’t fail to notice this, leaning over Akutagawa . “Akutagawa...are you feeling okay?”
Akutagawa nodded, trying and failing to hide his fluster. He didn’t even understand why his body was playing against him—was the room temperature too warm for his skin? If anybody would see them right now, the duo who once fought fiercely against each other, they would be highly disappointed. Working together, not arguing, and...cooking? Like friends?
A total disgrace.
(Akutagawa didn’t care.)
Oblivious to his inner turmoil, Atsushi shrugged as he continued peeling. That was when the knife in his hand slipped and ended up wounding the two fingers holding another carrot down on the cutting board.
“Shit, ” Atsushi hissed, eyebrows bunching together. The bloody knife clattered to the floor a few feet from his feet.
“Atsushi!” Akutagawa exclaimed, approaching him in worry. He carefully pulled away Atsushi’s hand, long fingers brushing against the younger's skin. There was a wound on each finger just below the first knuckle. It wasn’t too deep, but enough to cause bleeding. "I'll take care of this," he said as he pulled Atsushi to the sink.
“It’s fine, Akutagawa," Atsushi said, squirming under Akutagawa's gentle grip. "I can handle this myself."
Akutagawa didn’t reply immediately as he focused on cleaning the younger’s wound with soap and running water. He shook his head after a moment. “This is my apartment. It would be rude of me if I don’t treat my guest properly, right?”
“Since when do you treat someone else gently that isn’t your own sister?” Atsushi countered, voice weak.
Akutagawa paused, genuinely thinking about it. Why was it that he treated Atsushi more nicely than the Agency itself?
“Well...we're partners, aren’t we?” Akutagawa settled, more to himself than Atsushi. “Of course I have to treat my partner kindly for teamwork."
Atsushi looked like he was about to say something, but Akutagawa had already guided him to the table and pushed him into the chair. “Stay there while I get the first aid kit.”
Left with not much of a choice, Atsushi just nodded, watching as Akutagawa went back with cotton balls and a bottle of alcohol in hand. “Can you handle it?” he asked, sitting across from Atsushi.
“I’ve handled worse,” Atsushi said with a small smile. "It will heal soon anyway."
I know , Akutagawa wanted to reply, but saying that would be admitting that he merely wanted an excuse to take care of this seemingly indestructible man. He hummed, wetting a cotton ball with alcohol before dabbing it on the wound. “That’s not really reassuring."
A soft laugh escaped Atsushi. “Says the one who handled Yosano-san's surgery like a pro.”
The older lowered his head, terrified from the memory. “Don’t remind me of that.”
It was quiet after that, the two of them eventually going back to continue their work. Akutagawa did all the peeling and cutting, leaving the actual cooking to Atsushi. The mafioso had a fond smile the whole time, one that Akutagawa chose to not comment on in fear that Atsushi would notice his own reserved grin.
Akutagawa felt a little too warm, although whether it was because of the boiling food or Atsushi's presence was uncertain.
(Once Oda and the kids arrive, heartily gobbling down the curry, Akutagawa will sidle up to Atsushi, handing him a bar of chocolate. Atsushi will look at him in question, but Akutagawa will avert his eyes, voice almost too quiet. "Happy Valentine's Day, Atsushi.")