[ akira is still relatively new to the fontaine's love of drama and spectacle, but he gets it—the glitz and glamor never fails to dazzle, and even if he's left his more... showier days behind, a part of him still misses it in some way. once an adrenaline junkie, always an adrenaline junkie.
which means, yes, he's heard of the midwinter ball; everyone has, at this point, no matter if they're part of the court or not. so while wriothesley drags his feet trying to get out of attending, akira has been pulling double shifts at chioriya and cafe lucerne, helping to alleviate the anticipated spike in commissions and prep for the catering menu at the ball. his normal schedule has always been a very carefully managed balancing act, but it's safe to say the couple weeks leading up to the big event had effectively eaten most of his free time, an uncharacteristic radio silence from his end.
now that the final day has arrived, things are mostly squared away, and it's on his lunch break that akira gets the text, slumped in a chair in the kitchen at lucerne. the incongruity of the message and the sender manages to wake him up a little, double checking the caller id just to make sure he's not actually hallucinating it from lack of sleep.
like, on the one hand, wriothesley is texting him. on the other hand, wriothesley is texting him and asking what he's doing tonight? no, akira, it's not a booty call. ]
laundry and dishes
[ he's still trying to wrap his head around it, give him a minute. ]
[ of all the things he was expecting akira to say, laundry and dishes certainly were not in the top five ... or ten, for that matter. it makes wriothesley snort, tipping his head to glance at the clock on his desk. ]
Sound relaxing. [ not. wriothesley isn't much of a domestic type (after all, why should he when he could easily get someone else to do it for him?) and honestly, it sounds boring ... a sentiment he is sure is shared between the two. akira hasn't bothered him in a while, and knowing the other's hectic schedule at any given time, he can rightfully guess as to what he would have been up to instead of these mundane household tasks. ]
I was wondering if you'd like to come reap the benefits of your hard work tonight.
[ he knows that the cafe lucerne has been selected to handle most of the catering for the ball tonight, knowing their archon's fondness for their cakes. ]
But no doubt you have responsibilities to tend to.
[ such is life, when you're working class and living alone. he'd be more regretful about saying laundry and dishes if he wasn't already exhausted enough at this point, but he suspects wriothesley may appreciate the honesty anyway, as unexpected as it is.
more importantly, there's a lot to unpack here, because it sounds oddly like— ]
don't tell me you put off finding a date for tonight
[ it should be embarrassing how easily akira sees through the small talk, but wriothesley is too tired and too given up with life and the state of affairs to feel it. ] You got me.
[ look, nobody said he wasn't honest. ]
As much as it's a waste of time, I have to show my face to these things. Unless you would rather fold socks. I'm sure they'd appreciate it.
[ it's the max intelligence stat, baybee. or, more accurately, wriothesley isn't that hard to read if he picks at him enough and knows where to look. and, all right, at the end of the day it's hard not to feel more than a little flattered when the duke himself asks you to be his plus one, last resort or not. when is he ever going to get the chance to go to a needlessly fancy ball anyway?? never, probably.
or maybe he's just that far gone. but that's between him and god. ]
so am I going as myself cleaned up or am I wearing a dress?
[ genuine question. he's a nobody in the grand scheme of things, but he's also not trying to make things more difficult than it really needs to be for wriothesley. ]
[ akira should be flattered that wriothesley even asked him. not for those (unhealthy god-fearing) reasons, but because he can be kind of obtuse when it comes to things like this ... as sharp as he can be about resolving work-related crisis, the fact that he enjoys akira's company more than what he strictly lets on hasn't really hit him yet.
besides, this is a fancy event with fancy food, and if akira asked nicely they could even doggy bag some for him after? maybe? ]
You have a dress handy?
[ it's a genuine question, one that makes wriothesley snort. ]
[ and he's just going to leave it at that because he has more important things to focus on in this moment like just come as yourself and that's what i like best and it's a very good thing he's alone on his break because he can't imagine what anyone would say to the way he looks right now. his entire face is on fire, flushed all the way to his ears, and he has to put his phone down and hold his head in his hands for a few seconds to get his shit together.
wriothesley is so obtuse. admittedly, it's one of the things akira likes about him because it's fun to see how far he can go, to see what finally breaks through that icy exterior. but he also hates how he is so obtuse he can just say things like that so plainly, so simply, with no idea about the things they do to akira. ]
[ meanwhile, completely oblivious as to the crisis he is currently causing in the back room of the cafe, wriothesley is feeling pretty good about himself. he technically has a date, so nobody (read: sigewinne) can bother him about having no social life outside of the outcasts of the fortress and business contracts. even if that social life happens to be the kid who has been pestering him for most of the past year (? has it been that long? time sure flies) to get his ass beat up like he has some kind of vendetta against having healthy unbroken bones.
not that he would go that hard on akira. he isn't a monster, no matter how some people see him. ]
Black. [ of course. ]
We can meet at the fountain. Be as late as you like.
[ time sure does fly, and akira's honestly wishing it wouldn't at the moment, because he only has about a few hours to prepare and not make an ass out of himself at the fanciest black tie event. no pressure, really. ]
I'll take my time then
[ the rest of the day goes by in a blur, but as most things in his life, he manages to make it work somehow. the suit chiori graciously loans him fits well—less ornate than likely what most of the guests will be wearing, but it's black with red accents (wriothesley's usual color palette) and does the job in showing off his physique that he normally keeps hidden beneath baggier clothing. his hair is trickier, but gets slicked back and into a side part, and honestly, without his glasses, he's strangely less recognizable. he's really going to be clark kent-ing his way through it and praying for the best.
all this is to say that he gets to the fountain likely fifteen minutes after wriothesley, but look, at least he made it at all. ]
[ look, wriothesley wouldn't even care if akira turned up in a potato sack, that's how little he really cares about this event ... but on the other hand, he does have the standards as the duke of the fortress of meropide to uphold. if there is one thing he knows, it's that authority is a short lived and fragile thing. you have to keep up your guard around others. hm. maybe he did kind of spring this on akira? should he start to feel bad about it?
but it seems like he's lucky enough a second time at least - he should really thank akira's resourcefulness, because it doesn't seem like he'd been waiting a few minutes before he spots akira coming down the steps.
an occasion is an occasion, and because lady furina has had enough foresight (or just a better sense of aesthetic than he does) to send him an outfit prior to the ball, but wriothesley does look notably more cleaned up than usual, though the dark black and red of his usual colours haven't changed at all. his shirt is actually almost fully buttoned, even, though he has left the collars loose. wriothesley takes a few steps forward to meet akira, and then whistles softly through his teeth. ]
Almost didn't recognise you. Should I be calling you Cendrillon?
[ despite how casually he tends to address wriothesley, even he knows he can't show up in anything less than his best. it's as much for wriothesley's sake as his own, really, on the off chance someone does recognize him. appearances mean everything when it comes to these kinds of things.
case in point: as expected, even if he says the ball is a waste of time, wriothesley is still out here, dressed to the nines and looking like he just woke up like that. he probably did, the asshole. there's still an odd little flutter of—nervousness? anticipation, more likely, at the thought of going together; of occupying a space outside of the occasional round of wriothesley beating him up. in the end, he still decided to invite akira, however, and that probably says something, doesn't it?
things to dwell on later, when he's not getting distracted by that open collar. ]
That depends, [ he bats his lashes, because just because he's cleaned up doesn't mean he's any less of a cheeky shit. ] Will you bring me back home before midnight?
[ what, don't you think his hair looks at least a little more neat than usual? no changes whatsoever? for once, wriothesley looks less like some underground thug (no pun intended) and more like your usual hobnobbing noble, you know. he would be insulted, if he even cared an inch about something like that - just like how he doesn't seem to care whether his date for the night is someone else more polished and respectable, or just some no-name part timer of several establishments from the depths of common populace.
he doesn't go so far as ruffle akira's head (look, he knows how long it takes to wrangle these things to some semblance of order, he just had to live through a similar experience) but wriothesley does snort, each movement exaggerated as he leans towards the other, extending his arm so akira could take it. ]
That depends on whether you've been a good boy or not.
[ he's trying not to look too closely, because he knows he wouldn't be able to look away once he does and that would give everything away, wouldn't it? not that he thinks wriothesley can't tell—the man may be obtuse but he isn't blind, and akira hasn't been subtle either. but no one's called him out on it (yet), and if plausible deniability is his only saving grace, then he'll take it. underground thug and hobnobbing noble or not, he doesn't think he's ever had a choice anyway with the way he lets himself be pulled into wriothesley's orbit, so hopelessly attuned to him; like a weight hanging from his every word or maybe a noose (either way, they sway).
even outside of their sparring wriothesley's still knocking him on his ass, hitting him with the one two punch of good boy and offering his arm. it takes effort not to look away, to hide the blush that is most definitely spreading over his cheeks, and he only hopes that it's dark enough to at least tone it down a little. ]
So you'll have me suffer with you for the rest of it, if not? [ his tone is dry as he lets his hand settle in the crook of wriothesley's elbow, and since they aren't keeping any pretenses at the moment, he may as well sidle a little closer until their shoulders brush. ] You're a cruel man, Your Grace.
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closes my eyes pt 2
which means, yes, he's heard of the midwinter ball; everyone has, at this point, no matter if they're part of the court or not. so while wriothesley drags his feet trying to get out of attending, akira has been pulling double shifts at chioriya and cafe lucerne, helping to alleviate the anticipated spike in commissions and prep for the catering menu at the ball. his normal schedule has always been a very carefully managed balancing act, but it's safe to say the couple weeks leading up to the big event had effectively eaten most of his free time, an uncharacteristic radio silence from his end.
now that the final day has arrived, things are mostly squared away, and it's on his lunch break that akira gets the text, slumped in a chair in the kitchen at lucerne. the incongruity of the message and the sender manages to wake him up a little, double checking the caller id just to make sure he's not actually hallucinating it from lack of sleep.
like, on the one hand, wriothesley is texting him. on the other hand, wriothesley is texting him and asking what he's doing tonight? no, akira, it's not a booty call. ]
laundry and dishes
[ he's still trying to wrap his head around it, give him a minute. ]
need something?
no subject
Sound relaxing. [ not. wriothesley isn't much of a domestic type (after all, why should he when he could easily get someone else to do it for him?) and honestly, it sounds boring ... a sentiment he is sure is shared between the two. akira hasn't bothered him in a while, and knowing the other's hectic schedule at any given time, he can rightfully guess as to what he would have been up to instead of these mundane household tasks. ]
I was wondering if you'd like to come reap the benefits of your hard work tonight.
[ he knows that the cafe lucerne has been selected to handle most of the catering for the ball tonight, knowing their archon's fondness for their cakes. ]
But no doubt you have responsibilities to tend to.
no subject
more importantly, there's a lot to unpack here, because it sounds oddly like— ]
don't tell me you put off finding a date for tonight
no subject
[ look, nobody said he wasn't honest. ]
As much as it's a waste of time, I have to show my face to these things.
Unless you would rather fold socks. I'm sure they'd appreciate it.
no subject
or maybe he's just that far gone. but that's between him and god. ]
so am I going as myself cleaned up or am I wearing a dress?
[ genuine question. he's a nobody in the grand scheme of things, but he's also not trying to make things more difficult than it really needs to be for wriothesley. ]
im going to hell for this freals
besides, this is a fancy event with fancy food, and if akira asked nicely they could even doggy bag some for him after? maybe? ]
You have a dress handy?
[ it's a genuine question, one that makes wriothesley snort. ]
Just come as yourself. That's what I like best.
screams
[ and he's just going to leave it at that because he has more important things to focus on in this moment like just come as yourself and that's what i like best and it's a very good thing he's alone on his break because he can't imagine what anyone would say to the way he looks right now. his entire face is on fire, flushed all the way to his ears, and he has to put his phone down and hold his head in his hands for a few seconds to get his shit together.
wriothesley is so obtuse. admittedly, it's one of the things akira likes about him because it's fun to see how far he can go, to see what finally breaks through that icy exterior. but he also hates how he is so obtuse he can just say things like that so plainly, so simply, with no idea about the things they do to akira. ]
what color is your suit?
no subject
not that he would go that hard on akira. he isn't a monster, no matter how some people see him. ]
Black. [ of course. ]
We can meet at the fountain. Be as late as you like.
no subject
I'll take my time then
[ the rest of the day goes by in a blur, but as most things in his life, he manages to make it work somehow. the suit chiori graciously loans him fits well—less ornate than likely what most of the guests will be wearing, but it's black with red accents (wriothesley's usual color palette) and does the job in showing off his physique that he normally keeps hidden beneath baggier clothing. his hair is trickier, but gets slicked back and into a side part, and honestly, without his glasses, he's strangely less recognizable. he's really going to be clark kent-ing his way through it and praying for the best.
all this is to say that he gets to the fountain likely fifteen minutes after wriothesley, but look, at least he made it at all. ]
no subject
but it seems like he's lucky enough a second time at least - he should really thank akira's resourcefulness, because it doesn't seem like he'd been waiting a few minutes before he spots akira coming down the steps.
an occasion is an occasion, and because lady furina has had enough foresight (or just a better sense of aesthetic than he does) to send him an outfit prior to the ball, but wriothesley does look notably more cleaned up than usual, though the dark black and red of his usual colours haven't changed at all. his shirt is actually almost fully buttoned, even, though he has left the collars loose. wriothesley takes a few steps forward to meet akira, and then whistles softly through his teeth. ]
Almost didn't recognise you. Should I be calling you Cendrillon?
no subject
case in point: as expected, even if he says the ball is a waste of time, wriothesley is still out here, dressed to the nines and looking like he just woke up like that. he probably did, the asshole. there's still an odd little flutter of—nervousness? anticipation, more likely, at the thought of going together; of occupying a space outside of the occasional round of wriothesley beating him up. in the end, he still decided to invite akira, however, and that probably says something, doesn't it?
things to dwell on later, when he's not getting distracted by that open collar. ]
That depends, [ he bats his lashes, because just because he's cleaned up doesn't mean he's any less of a cheeky shit. ] Will you bring me back home before midnight?
no subject
he doesn't go so far as ruffle akira's head (look, he knows how long it takes to wrangle these things to some semblance of order, he just had to live through a similar experience) but wriothesley does snort, each movement exaggerated as he leans towards the other, extending his arm so akira could take it. ]
That depends on whether you've been a good boy or not.
no subject
even outside of their sparring wriothesley's still knocking him on his ass, hitting him with the one two punch of good boy and offering his arm. it takes effort not to look away, to hide the blush that is most definitely spreading over his cheeks, and he only hopes that it's dark enough to at least tone it down a little. ]
So you'll have me suffer with you for the rest of it, if not? [ his tone is dry as he lets his hand settle in the crook of wriothesley's elbow, and since they aren't keeping any pretenses at the moment, he may as well sidle a little closer until their shoulders brush. ] You're a cruel man, Your Grace.