This arrangement was supposed to be simple. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, Haru Okumura held no affection for Goro Shido, let alone any sort of passing knowledge of him beyond what one might glean off Wikipedia. They both wanted to keep it that way. Four letter words like ‘love’ held no such place in their lives, especially not when their parents were political rivals intent on snagging the same seat in upcoming elections. If cameras and tabloids knew that the heir to Okumura Foods and the son of cabinet member Masayoshi Shido even met like this on a regular basis, the world would cease to spin.
“Love will make this so much more complicated, Okumura-san,” he had reminded her at the very beginning, when this accidental arrangement had been brought into being. “We’re not supposed to like each other to begin with, let alone love.”
At the time, foolishly, she had agreed, “Then let’s keep this strictly carnal, Shido-san.”
Carnal. Physical. Simple. They had cut off all strings and stipulations. Goro couldn’t afford a scandal, as the up-and-coming Detective Prince of his precinct, nor could Haru could afford the limelight with her new cafe getting off the ground. They relied on each other precisely because the other party was too big to fall. Anyone else would’ve let a secret of this nature slip.
Instead, they had fallen into each other’s embrace, and Haru could only wonder when their agreement would unravel. When she had to stop pretending, when she had to remember that Goro wasn’t supposed to know a single thing about her. When she had to suck in a breath and ignore her hummingbird heart beating against her ribcage.
She hated that restless, pounding feeling in her chest – she hated the reminder of being human, the reminder that merely looking at someone else as he unbuttoned his shirt could cascade into this pervasive warmth washing over her.
As she unhooked her bra in front of him, she decided she would focus on the present. Worry about a burnt bridge later, when he had fallen asleep and the world once again would remind her that they weren’t supposed to share the same physical space. As she climbed into their shared bed, she sat next to him, pulling herself close by resting her fingers behind his shoulders and placing a tender kiss to his forehead.
As he pulled himself up, tugging her shirt off her shoulders, his expression was one of deep contemplation and reverence – as if she were the only thing in the world that mattered. Perhaps he was worrying too, in a different way.
“Goro-kun?” Haru’s voice was quieter than usual. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes, of course,” Goro murmured as his gaze fell onto her bare chest, forcing a smile typically reserved for the cameras and foreign investors. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
You’re staring at me funny, she wanted to say, but the words just wouldn’t leave her lips. His expression was one of deep, solemn worship – as if he had forgotten entirely about her mortality and her limitations. That she was more than the visions in his head, and that he was more than the calm, placid mask he wore on stage.
Even she couldn’t fully crack his mask and decipher how he felt. Not once had the fabled ‘I love you’ been uttered from his lips per their stupid agreement, yet he was staring up at her like one might an angel or a goddess. It was - that look would’ve been intoxicating, if his actions and words ever synced.
Their stipulations were a brazen fantasy, but just for the night… Haru wanted to pretend. She wanted Goro to be truly hers, rather than some illicit rendezvous and the son of her father’s biggest political opponent.
“I feel like I should be asking you that question,” Goro murmured, his fingertips tracing over the stretch marks on her bare shoulders. “You feel really warm today.”
“I’m okay.” Haru’s laugh was nervous, almost embarrassed, as she reached to untangle his thin tie. “I promise, I just…”
His fingertips reached up towards her forehead, and as he pressed the back of his hand against her skin, an odd look of displeasure mixed with worry crossed his face. “You just have a fever?”
“Huh?” She blinked back surprise.
“Haru.” Goro scooted back, hastily reaching for his wallet. “This apartment’s bare, right? Not even stocked with a meal, let alone medicine or first-aid…”
She paused, ignoring her ever-pervasive warmth, “Not usually, no.”
Goro’s shoulders deflated as he scrambled off the bed, grabbing his pants and hastily putting them back on. Once he had tied his belt on, he gave her an exasperated glance, “Stay there. I’d take you home, but we both know that’s not happening tonight.”
“I wasn’t planning on leaving.”
“Course not. You were planning on getting laid,” Goro’s eyes glinted, as if he were sharing a private joke. “You’ll make it up to me later, okay?”
“So…” Haru reached for the covers, pulling it around her to stay warm. “All those warm feelings in my chest and my heart were…”
Goro shrugged, turning towards the door, “The beginning signs of a fever?”
They weren’t love. Haru breathed a sigh of relief as she shimmied under the covers, enveloping herself in their thick warmth. Whatever their tangled, confusing relationship was - it wasn’t love. It was merely a fever, which Goro was going to help her treat before they resumed their regular routine.
She could handle that, especially since she was feeling rather sleepy. She yawned, turning over and closing her eyes. Five minutes wouldn’t hurt.
Warm water was being thrown on her face. Haru groaned, opening one eye and blinking as Goro’s face came into focus –
“Goro-kun?” Her voice felt tired, weary. “What’re you doing?”
“Putting a warm towel on your forehead.” He sounded so amused, the sly git. “It’s supposed to keep the fever at bay.”
Haru sat up, pulling the covers around her in case she was still half-naked and - and she was wearing her shirt again. He must’ve tugged it on her while she was sleeping. “You didn’t call for any of my servants?”
Goro shook his head. “I didn’t think we could risk it.”
A pragmatic choice in the long-run. Her servants could tend to her fever and take her home safely, but then they would have to explain just why Goro was in her presence when they barely acknowledged the other in public settings. This secret couldn’t be kept forever. Haru knew it couldn’t be kept forever, yet she wished it would.
“It’s alright,” she acquiesced, mostly to the remnants of common sense in her brain. “You can go ahead and use my phone. My real one, this time.”
“No way.” Goro laughed, taking the washcloth off her forehead and getting off their bed, if only for a moment, to grab some chicken noodle soup. “I’ve already put in this much work, Haru. I’m not going to abandon you.”
She wanted to question if he really had such a choice. Their arrangement was simple, physical, carnal. Emotions and feelings and caregiving were outside of the realm of their binding contract – had he forgotten about such a thing already? Worse, did he remember and just not care?
“It wouldn’t be abandoning me,” she insisted, sitting up straighter as Goro slid a tray across her lap. “It would be entrusting me to people who care for me.”
A pained look crossed his face. “Am I not one of them?”
“What?” She stared at him, furrowing her brow. “I - I didn’t mean to imply such a thing. You weren’t - you - our arrangement didn’t involve tending to me like this. It’s beyond our terms.”
“We’ve long since gone beyond that, Haru.” His smile, although reaching his eyes, held no joy as he brushed her hair behind her ears. “I thought you, of all people, would’ve figured it out.”
She hadn’t. She hadn’t uncovered a damn thing as she stared at him with knitted brows, feeling the color drain from her face. He was the one who had insinuated how love would complicate everything. How he would abandon her at the first sign of stupid, overwhelming feelings.
How could she have figured him ever thinking the opposite, when he kept his heart wrapped under a thousand layers?
Before the soup could grow cold, she reached for the spoon, taking a sip and pressing its warmth to her lips. It was warm and soothing; just what any doctor would’ve ordered. She could taste the fresh herbs and feel the heat seep through her bones.
“I’m sorry,” she found herself saying, feeling his watchful gaze. “I… I had no idea.”
He allowed himself a tired laugh, “Obviously.”
As she lapped up the soup, taking slow, careful sips to savor all the flavors, she couldn’t stop staring at him. Even now, with his ponytail unraveling and his wrinkled shirt and tie, he looked so peaceful. His gaze was still one of admiration, even as his furrowed brow seemed to dig into his eyes.
He must’ve had a long day, Haru realized. Detectives like him worked long beats, often with no end in sight to the cases they covered and the mysteries they had to solve. Compared to her shifts at the cafe, his would be nothing.
She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks as she peered up at him, “Thank you.”
Goro’s perplexed expression spoke for himself.
“I’m thanking you for taking care of me, silly.” She hadn’t meant to tease him, but he was so easy sometimes. “You stayed. You didn’t have to.”
He laughed, with the edges of his eyes crinkling as he pulled out a blister pack of medicine. “Oh, I definitely had to. You’re really bad at taking care of yourself.”
“Are not.”
Now that felt like a five year old’s best comeback, and she knew it as she allowed herself another laugh. Goro’s shoulders slumped in relief as he opened one pill and offered it to her with a glass of water.
“Case in point,” he reminded her. “You’d make any boyfriend worry.”
Boyfriend. He had actually referred to one, rather than shying away from the term the first time they had danced around it. Haru blinked back surprise, before gulping down the pill with the offered water.
If he was here with her, rather than the precinct or his Father or even the numerous social galas they frequented, then she did mean something to him. Something more than the carnal desires they quenched every time they met. Yet, what had she offered him in that light?
They talked, sure, as friends were wont to do. Goro would share details of particularly tricky cases, just as she had shared tales of difficult customers. She brought back extra dessert from their parties; he took time to fix her phone or laptop after their nights ended. Once, he even featured her cafe on his food blog – and her business boomed almost overnight.
But these were things any sort of person would do, if they were in such an arrangement with her. Haru was certain of it. She had never asked anyone who had kept such an arrangement, mostly because she didn’t know anyone who did – Ryuji and Ann were engaged; Futaba and Yusuke had long since been married; and Ren had been single for quite some time now.
Goro, she imagined, must’ve known people who held these sorts of relationships. He would’ve told her if this were love – if they’d crossed the boundaries that had defined their initial meetings.
She must’ve been quiet for a while, because Goro scooted closer to pull the tray of soup off her lap.
“N-not that I’m your boyfriend,” he amended, blood rushing to his cheeks as well. “We’re – these sorts of things have to be agreed upon by both parties.”
“You don’t think I agree?”
He stared. “You do?”
“Of course.” Now that he mentioned it, being boyfriend and girlfriend would feel right. It would complicate everything, as he had said so many months ago, but she could live with a little complication. “I just… I didn’t realize you had felt the same way.”
“I do.” He reached for her hand, squeezing it tight. Relief washed over him; his shoulders slumped and his entire posture relaxed, as it did every time he fell into bed with her. “That’s on me. I’m sorry. I should’ve said something a long time ago.”
“It would’ve made things more obvious,” she agreed, with a small, amused laugh.
As he set the tray aside, undoing his ponytail and running a hand through the strands, Haru couldn’t take her eyes off him. He could’ve left. He really, truly could’ve left, like Father would have, and entrusted her with the family butler. Yet he stayed, buying medicine and food for her as if this were an everyday occurrence.
Haru was sure that her fever was emboldening her, because she sat up straighter -
“Goro-kun?”
“Hm?” He turned to face her. “What’s up?”
“Will you stay with me anyways? Just.. just until the fever goes away?”
It was a childish request: to want his warmth, even when he had given her so much already. Goro had every right to refuse; except, he nodded, pulling the covers and crawling back under them. As she closed her eyes, reaching out for him, he wrapped an arm around her waist and held onto her.
“Of course,” he murmured, resting his head on her shoulders and holding on, even as she could feel herself drifting off to sleep. His voice was quiet, yet firm, as her consciousness faded: “I’ll always be here.”
friends-with-benefits - Goro Akechi / Haru Okumura | wordcount: 2,309
“Love will make this so much more complicated, Okumura-san,” he had reminded her at the very beginning, when this accidental arrangement had been brought into being. “We’re not supposed to like each other to begin with, let alone love.”
At the time, foolishly, she had agreed, “Then let’s keep this strictly carnal, Shido-san.”
Carnal. Physical. Simple. They had cut off all strings and stipulations. Goro couldn’t afford a scandal, as the up-and-coming Detective Prince of his precinct, nor could Haru could afford the limelight with her new cafe getting off the ground. They relied on each other precisely because the other party was too big to fall. Anyone else would’ve let a secret of this nature slip.
Instead, they had fallen into each other’s embrace, and Haru could only wonder when their agreement would unravel. When she had to stop pretending, when she had to remember that Goro wasn’t supposed to know a single thing about her. When she had to suck in a breath and ignore her hummingbird heart beating against her ribcage.
She hated that restless, pounding feeling in her chest – she hated the reminder of being human, the reminder that merely looking at someone else as he unbuttoned his shirt could cascade into this pervasive warmth washing over her.
As she unhooked her bra in front of him, she decided she would focus on the present. Worry about a burnt bridge later, when he had fallen asleep and the world once again would remind her that they weren’t supposed to share the same physical space. As she climbed into their shared bed, she sat next to him, pulling herself close by resting her fingers behind his shoulders and placing a tender kiss to his forehead.
As he pulled himself up, tugging her shirt off her shoulders, his expression was one of deep contemplation and reverence – as if she were the only thing in the world that mattered. Perhaps he was worrying too, in a different way.
“Goro-kun?” Haru’s voice was quieter than usual. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes, of course,” Goro murmured as his gaze fell onto her bare chest, forcing a smile typically reserved for the cameras and foreign investors. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
You’re staring at me funny, she wanted to say, but the words just wouldn’t leave her lips. His expression was one of deep, solemn worship – as if he had forgotten entirely about her mortality and her limitations. That she was more than the visions in his head, and that he was more than the calm, placid mask he wore on stage.
Even she couldn’t fully crack his mask and decipher how he felt. Not once had the fabled ‘I love you’ been uttered from his lips per their stupid agreement, yet he was staring up at her like one might an angel or a goddess. It was - that look would’ve been intoxicating, if his actions and words ever synced.
Their stipulations were a brazen fantasy, but just for the night… Haru wanted to pretend. She wanted Goro to be truly hers, rather than some illicit rendezvous and the son of her father’s biggest political opponent.
“I feel like I should be asking you that question,” Goro murmured, his fingertips tracing over the stretch marks on her bare shoulders. “You feel really warm today.”
“I’m okay.” Haru’s laugh was nervous, almost embarrassed, as she reached to untangle his thin tie. “I promise, I just…”
His fingertips reached up towards her forehead, and as he pressed the back of his hand against her skin, an odd look of displeasure mixed with worry crossed his face. “You just have a fever?”
“Huh?” She blinked back surprise.
“Haru.” Goro scooted back, hastily reaching for his wallet. “This apartment’s bare, right? Not even stocked with a meal, let alone medicine or first-aid…”
She paused, ignoring her ever-pervasive warmth, “Not usually, no.”
Goro’s shoulders deflated as he scrambled off the bed, grabbing his pants and hastily putting them back on. Once he had tied his belt on, he gave her an exasperated glance, “Stay there. I’d take you home, but we both know that’s not happening tonight.”
“I wasn’t planning on leaving.”
“Course not. You were planning on getting laid,” Goro’s eyes glinted, as if he were sharing a private joke. “You’ll make it up to me later, okay?”
“So…” Haru reached for the covers, pulling it around her to stay warm. “All those warm feelings in my chest and my heart were…”
Goro shrugged, turning towards the door, “The beginning signs of a fever?”
They weren’t love. Haru breathed a sigh of relief as she shimmied under the covers, enveloping herself in their thick warmth. Whatever their tangled, confusing relationship was - it wasn’t love. It was merely a fever, which Goro was going to help her treat before they resumed their regular routine.
She could handle that, especially since she was feeling rather sleepy. She yawned, turning over and closing her eyes. Five minutes wouldn’t hurt.
Warm water was being thrown on her face. Haru groaned, opening one eye and blinking as Goro’s face came into focus –
“Goro-kun?” Her voice felt tired, weary. “What’re you doing?”
“Putting a warm towel on your forehead.” He sounded so amused, the sly git. “It’s supposed to keep the fever at bay.”
Haru sat up, pulling the covers around her in case she was still half-naked and - and she was wearing her shirt again. He must’ve tugged it on her while she was sleeping. “You didn’t call for any of my servants?”
Goro shook his head. “I didn’t think we could risk it.”
A pragmatic choice in the long-run. Her servants could tend to her fever and take her home safely, but then they would have to explain just why Goro was in her presence when they barely acknowledged the other in public settings. This secret couldn’t be kept forever. Haru knew it couldn’t be kept forever, yet she wished it would.
“It’s alright,” she acquiesced, mostly to the remnants of common sense in her brain. “You can go ahead and use my phone. My real one, this time.”
“No way.” Goro laughed, taking the washcloth off her forehead and getting off their bed, if only for a moment, to grab some chicken noodle soup. “I’ve already put in this much work, Haru. I’m not going to abandon you.”
She wanted to question if he really had such a choice. Their arrangement was simple, physical, carnal. Emotions and feelings and caregiving were outside of the realm of their binding contract – had he forgotten about such a thing already? Worse, did he remember and just not care?
“It wouldn’t be abandoning me,” she insisted, sitting up straighter as Goro slid a tray across her lap. “It would be entrusting me to people who care for me.”
A pained look crossed his face. “Am I not one of them?”
“What?” She stared at him, furrowing her brow. “I - I didn’t mean to imply such a thing. You weren’t - you - our arrangement didn’t involve tending to me like this. It’s beyond our terms.”
“We’ve long since gone beyond that, Haru.” His smile, although reaching his eyes, held no joy as he brushed her hair behind her ears. “I thought you, of all people, would’ve figured it out.”
She hadn’t. She hadn’t uncovered a damn thing as she stared at him with knitted brows, feeling the color drain from her face. He was the one who had insinuated how love would complicate everything. How he would abandon her at the first sign of stupid, overwhelming feelings.
How could she have figured him ever thinking the opposite, when he kept his heart wrapped under a thousand layers?
Before the soup could grow cold, she reached for the spoon, taking a sip and pressing its warmth to her lips. It was warm and soothing; just what any doctor would’ve ordered. She could taste the fresh herbs and feel the heat seep through her bones.
“I’m sorry,” she found herself saying, feeling his watchful gaze. “I… I had no idea.”
He allowed himself a tired laugh, “Obviously.”
As she lapped up the soup, taking slow, careful sips to savor all the flavors, she couldn’t stop staring at him. Even now, with his ponytail unraveling and his wrinkled shirt and tie, he looked so peaceful. His gaze was still one of admiration, even as his furrowed brow seemed to dig into his eyes.
He must’ve had a long day, Haru realized. Detectives like him worked long beats, often with no end in sight to the cases they covered and the mysteries they had to solve. Compared to her shifts at the cafe, his would be nothing.
She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks as she peered up at him, “Thank you.”
Goro’s perplexed expression spoke for himself.
“I’m thanking you for taking care of me, silly.” She hadn’t meant to tease him, but he was so easy sometimes. “You stayed. You didn’t have to.”
He laughed, with the edges of his eyes crinkling as he pulled out a blister pack of medicine. “Oh, I definitely had to. You’re really bad at taking care of yourself.”
“Are not.”
Now that felt like a five year old’s best comeback, and she knew it as she allowed herself another laugh. Goro’s shoulders slumped in relief as he opened one pill and offered it to her with a glass of water.
“Case in point,” he reminded her. “You’d make any boyfriend worry.”
Boyfriend. He had actually referred to one, rather than shying away from the term the first time they had danced around it. Haru blinked back surprise, before gulping down the pill with the offered water.
If he was here with her, rather than the precinct or his Father or even the numerous social galas they frequented, then she did mean something to him. Something more than the carnal desires they quenched every time they met. Yet, what had she offered him in that light?
They talked, sure, as friends were wont to do. Goro would share details of particularly tricky cases, just as she had shared tales of difficult customers. She brought back extra dessert from their parties; he took time to fix her phone or laptop after their nights ended. Once, he even featured her cafe on his food blog – and her business boomed almost overnight.
But these were things any sort of person would do, if they were in such an arrangement with her. Haru was certain of it. She had never asked anyone who had kept such an arrangement, mostly because she didn’t know anyone who did – Ryuji and Ann were engaged; Futaba and Yusuke had long since been married; and Ren had been single for quite some time now.
Goro, she imagined, must’ve known people who held these sorts of relationships. He would’ve told her if this were love – if they’d crossed the boundaries that had defined their initial meetings.
She must’ve been quiet for a while, because Goro scooted closer to pull the tray of soup off her lap.
“N-not that I’m your boyfriend,” he amended, blood rushing to his cheeks as well. “We’re – these sorts of things have to be agreed upon by both parties.”
“You don’t think I agree?”
He stared. “You do?”
“Of course.” Now that he mentioned it, being boyfriend and girlfriend would feel right. It would complicate everything, as he had said so many months ago, but she could live with a little complication. “I just… I didn’t realize you had felt the same way.”
“I do.” He reached for her hand, squeezing it tight. Relief washed over him; his shoulders slumped and his entire posture relaxed, as it did every time he fell into bed with her. “That’s on me. I’m sorry. I should’ve said something a long time ago.”
“It would’ve made things more obvious,” she agreed, with a small, amused laugh.
As he set the tray aside, undoing his ponytail and running a hand through the strands, Haru couldn’t take her eyes off him. He could’ve left. He really, truly could’ve left, like Father would have, and entrusted her with the family butler. Yet he stayed, buying medicine and food for her as if this were an everyday occurrence.
Haru was sure that her fever was emboldening her, because she sat up straighter -
“Goro-kun?”
“Hm?” He turned to face her. “What’s up?”
“Will you stay with me anyways? Just.. just until the fever goes away?”
It was a childish request: to want his warmth, even when he had given her so much already. Goro had every right to refuse; except, he nodded, pulling the covers and crawling back under them. As she closed her eyes, reaching out for him, he wrapped an arm around her waist and held onto her.
“Of course,” he murmured, resting his head on her shoulders and holding on, even as she could feel herself drifting off to sleep. His voice was quiet, yet firm, as her consciousness faded: “I’ll always be here.”