Work Text:
Taking a sabbatical sits wrong with Akechi from day one. He hates that he let Akira and his therapist talk him into it; the only thing he hates more is the idea of going back into the office and pasting on a smile to deal with idiots all day, only to be wrung out and angry by the time he gets back home to someone he actually likes. He needs the break, but he feels like a parasite, staying at home while Akira earns a living.
" Goro," Akira says when he checks in on the phone and Akechi tells him exactly how he's feeling, since that's what he's supposed to do, "It's not even been a full day. You need to let yourself relax. You're not a parasite, you're taking care of your mental health before you snap and kill your boss."
That gets a snort from Akechi. The paperweight on that odious man's desk has been tempting as of late. "Yes, well, since I'm not ridding society of dead weight, is there anything I can do around the apartment? I've been looking, but your fastidiousness for cleaning has me at a loss."
"Morgana trained me well. Look, we can talk about maybe shifting some chores around so you're not bored when I'm home, but stop worrying about being productive, please? You need to focus on yourself."
Akechi absolutely hates focusing on himself, so as soon as the call ends he's back to searching high and low for something to do, getting more and more annoyed until he remembers to think back and--perhaps part of his irritation is that he hasn't eaten in hours. Their apartment isn't that big, but he doesn't have much reason to go into the kitchen when Akira can cook and he can't, so the room had vanished from his mind hours ago once he'd confirmed there were no dirty dishes to wash.
He goes in and selects an apple from the small group of them on the counter. The nearby rice cooker catches his eye. He really isn't much of a cook, but he certainly knows how to use a rice cooker. It'd be a nice surprise for Akira to come back home to a dinner already prepared, wouldn't it? Though just rice isn't a dinner, and Akechi is under no delusions his cooking will be as good as Akira's, but it's enough distraction that he rummages around the pantry and fridge, trying to figure out what he could make to complete the meal. Salmon with teriyaki sauce seems simple enough to override the unfortunate memory of the last occasion he tried to prepare a fish. He still looks up instructions online to be safe.
When Akira walks through the door, Akechi watches for his reaction. His partner's eyes widen as he sniffs the air--and then he winces.
Akechi scowls and folds his arms. "Any tips for salvaging burnt salmon?"
"It should be fine after cutting off whatever's charred," Akira says. "Thanks for cooking."
Akechi doesn't think thanks are in order, as quite a bit of the salmon needs to be cut off and discarded, making those portions small. At least rice cookers are near foolproof, but it's...frustrating. Akira is an efficient cleaner, a skilled chef, and the rising star at a job he likes, besides the odd complaint. Akechi has few domestic skills whatsoever, and the clout he's built up being good at his job is being used to persuade his boss to give him time away and not just fire him. He probably should quit, but he'd have to find another job, and he's just as likely to hate that one.
"So figure out what about this job is getting under your skin so badly so the next one is a better fit," Akira says patiently. Easy enough for him to say; a lot of things get under Akechi's skin. He just knows better than to show it. At least Akira agrees on Akechi taking over more chores. Probably to keep him out of the kitchen in the future. And it does, for a day of cleaning and job-hunting and not much reflecting. On Wednesday, he's bored and frustrated enough again to be making impulsive choices that seem ill-advised, like attempting to cook.
Rice for a base. Tofu from the store, already deep-fried. Shiitake mushrooms and carrots. Akechi is well aware that takikomi gohan is usually prepared with a wider variety of ingredients, but he needs as big a handicap as he can get. He watches several videos to see how people handle the preparation rather than just read about it.
Akira slows in his steps when he comes in and smells cooked food, the hesitation entirely unwarranted because none of it is burnt this time. It...is a bit bland, though, and Akechi frowns as he chews through his second bite.
"It's good," Akira reassures him, and heaps another scoop onto his plate to show he no longer has any reservations. Though he does grab condiments from the fridge for flavoring, as well. "So, getting into cooking? It's relaxing for me, though I haven't had time to get too into it lately. How's it for you?"
Akechi can't exactly say it's relaxing to study several demonstrations just to be assured he's preparing mushrooms the correct way. But it is...satisfying, to get it right. "I like it," he realizes. "Even if I am an utter amateur."
Akira laughs. "Then keep at it, utter amateur."
So Akechi cooks dinner on Thursday and Friday, and even though he knows the results aren't as good as Akira's cooking, Akira takes larger portions than usual. And Akechi has plenty of cynical thoughts about Akira's everlasting desire to please people--but he's also relieved that his food at least passes muster enough for Akira to stomach so much, as well as not insist on being the one to cook again. His food is, at the very least, not revolting.
On Saturday, with no work, Akira offers to show Akechi some of the tricks Sojiro taught him, so they make a more complicated dinner together, and it tastes perfect. Which is Akira's doing, of course, and just makes Akechi more determined to improve. Apparently one of them never did let go of that rivalry. (He's not sure Akira ever took it seriously. For every bit as perfect as Akira is, he is also equally frustrating from time to time.)
And so, Akechi looks for more recipes, watches more online tutorials, and continues to have dinner ready for Akira's return home. There's a wry thought rattling around about if he's trying to be the perfect housewife, but...no, he does genuinely enjoy something about cooking. There's a calm, steady rhythm to the mechanics once he has the basics down, and it's nice to be working alone (mostly--Akira likes helping on weekends) rather than answer to idiots all day (which Akira is not. Usually.)
...He wants a job he can work mostly alone. Perhaps not completely, he does have social skills he'd rather not atrophy, but if he never got dragged out to "drinks with the boss" again he'd die a happy man. Cooking naturally reminds him of how he once ran a food review blog, but...no, that was based on his celebrity status, something he's been happy to let lapse since. But perhaps some kind of writing? And even if he wasn't a teen detective anymore, there could be someway to make use of that experience...his familiarity with both political groups and the legal system...
He doesn't tell Akira about this thought process. He'd get annoyed at anyone else declaring some lofty goal and then bombing it. But he does reach out to one of Akira's odd acquaintances, a reporter a few years older. Ohya is both helpful and challenging, telling him she'll recommend him to her boss but that he'd better show her some of the best damn writing she's ever seen. Since Akechi likes a challenge, that's not much of an issue. The editor likes the article, an analysis on an issue that hasn't gotten much attention but will affect single-parent families greatly, enough to buy it for publishing.
But just one article isn't enough, so with the remaining time of his sabbatical, Akechi doubles down: writing, reaching out to old contacts to network, doing house chores to help, and cooking. He'd like to think he's getting good at it, and tells Akira so at dinner. "So you don't need to take seconds just to reassure me."
Akira raises an eyebrow at him. "Maybe I'm taking seconds because it's good?" he retorts, pointedly leaning over the table to fill his plate again. His stomach pooches a little over the waistband of his pants as he does so, which...huh.
Maybe Akechi's not the only one getting overly domestic here. Though it's very slight--possibly just water weight. He's getting better at cooking, but Akira was already good at it. He shouldn't get fat off of Akechi's cooking.
Except, Akira keeps taking seconds, and after a week, his stomach still pooches over the waistband of his pants when he leans over for anything. Pooches a little more, Akechi thinks. And when his shirt comes off, it does reveal a slightly flabby, less-defined midsection.
Could Akechi really be responsible for that? Is his cooking good enough to fatten someone up? Though it's probably just Akira still taking seconds to please him, even if he says otherwise.
Akechi starts giving him seconds automatically, as soon as Akira's plate is empty. "Since you were going to eat more anyway," Akechi says. He's not sure if he's doing it as a dare or a punishment, but Akira grins, eats it up, and then takes thirds.
The small roll that occasionally pooches over his pants swells until it's always pooching over, joined by two budding love handles. At this point it'd be insulting to both their intelligences to keep pretending he hasn't noticed, so Akechi lets himself act on impulse and palms that belly one night cuddling in bed. "You really do like my cooking, hm? You've certainly eaten quite a bit. It's starting to show. ...Not that it looks bad." It feels rather nice, actually, soft and warm under his touch. Akechi shakes his hand lightly, and Akira's belly quivers.
"Good food shows you care," Akira says simply, drowsy from a long day at work. "Why wouldn't I love it?"
"You're a sap," Akechi tells him, but kisses him on the cheek. "I'll make you breakfast tomorrow. I've been wanting to try making pancakes."
Akira eats a stack of four pancakes, each big and fluffy and wobbly, before heading out to work. Akechi eyes his love handles from behind, imagining those wobbling just as much.
Perhaps he goes a little overboard with dinner, but Akira is game to try the spread, eating steadily for over half an hour, with the only chitchat being Akechi asking if he wants more and always being pleased to hear the 'yes', until, at last, Akira sinks back in his chair with an approving groan. "Hell, Goro. You could quit your job and become a chef."
Akechi scoffs. "Now you're pandering to my ego. I know I'm nowhere near a professional level. And would you really want me sharing my 'love' with so many people?"
"...No," Akira says, with a mock pout. "I want it aaall to myself," and he rubs his fat gut to emphasize the word. That, Akechi can believe; Akira's belly is so stuffed it swells in a smooth arc from just above his crotch to his chest, and it's both soft and hard to the touch, lard layered over a ridiculous amount of food that will get broken down and turn into more lard. There really is no reason for Akira to eat so much and get fat unless he genuinely likes what Akechi's offering, which satisfies both Akechi's pride and the much smaller part of him, tiny in comparison to Akira, that also likes to please people.
(Mostly just Akira, nowadays. Sometimes Akira's friends. Sometimes.)
"You'll have it, so you better not say it's too much," Akechi says, kissing Akira and rubbing his hand over his partner's full stomach again. That gets appreciative noises, so Akechi continues rubbing, imagining how it might feel when Akira is fat all over and not just carrying some extra pounds around the middle. Though then he thinks again about what Akira said, and...ah. "I did quit my job, though," he says, because if there's any good time to announce this, it's while Akira is too sleepy from getting stuffed to the gills to get properly mad.
He doesn't look mad at all. A little surprised; mostly curious. "You did?"
"Mm. I wrote a few articles, and the newspaper liked them enough to take me on as a regular writer, so...I suppose I'm a journalist now."
"Is it Ohya's paper?" Akira asks, a gleam managing to sneak into his drowsy eyes. He laughs when Akechi nods. "I knew she was being shifty about something. Well, good! You like it, right?"
"I like getting to choose when I deal with people," Akechi says drily, and that still gets a warm smile from Akira.
"I'm glad. That does sound like a better fit for you."
"Sap."
If Akira has a retort for that, he's too sleepy to make it; after a few minutes, he's snoozing in the chair, and Akechi quietly starts cleaning up the table. It's still a surprise to him just how well the sabbatical's worked out. A new job, a new skill...which may have shown him a new kink, considering how much he likes Akira's new belly...
Hm. Good thing his new job gives him the flexibility to keep cooking at home.
It doesn't take very long from then for Akira to need new clothes.