"A bet is a bet, Akechi. You agreed to this."

"L-Like hell I did, attic trash!"

A somewhat electric atmosphere was befalling Leblanc that afternoon. There was almost nobody around, but the shop definitely didn't feel lifeless; it was in fact the center stage for a scene a certain brown-haired boy could have apparently really done without. Ren, however, was intent on doing with, fully decided to enjoy the moment – and the view – as much as he could. He brought his elbows to rest atop the cushioned back of his seat, entirely indifferent to his unwilling participant's outbursts of anger. Akechi's face was radiating such intense heat that Ren could practically sense it despite being nowhere close to sitting near him. He had never seen him look so flustered before, and couldn't wrap his mind around why that was – as far as he was concerned, this turn of events was no big deal.

"Ah? Am I misremembering things, then?" Ren asked, manufacturing an expression of mock recollection on his features. "Didn't you say you were never one to go back on your word?"

Seeing Akechi flinch and his cheeks burn an even brighter shade of crimson made it very, very difficult for Ren to contain his smirk. Akechi looked for all the world like a child caught with his hand stuck mile deep into the cookie jar.

"I… I did, but…" he stammered as his gaze flickered downward and forward in quick succession, before he rapidly regained his usual bark, "You never told me I'd be wearing that!"

Ren leaned forward. Akechi was practically melting from his embarrassment, but no amount of staring straight at the floor was able to hide the wrinkle-free apron and black dress he wore underneath, the short and puffy sleeves it was sporting, the white ruffles peeking out of the bell-shaped hem, those thigh-high white socks that allowed only an inch or so of visible skin, and the frilly headdress the cat ears of which being the cherry on top – unless that title was better suited for the little bell sewn across Akechi's collar and ringing a little chime with each of his movements. Ren couldn't make up his mind.

No, he thought to himself, pushing his glasses up. This situation was definitely no big deal at all.

"Well, now I do," came his simple reply, prompting Akechi to wince again, though Ren nonchalantly ignored it. "The girls did a great job on you. I'm sure they had a lot of fun."

Much to Ren's surprise, Akechi didn't snap at this remark – he merely let his shoulders droop and gave a sigh. He looked positively exhausted, as though the mere memory of it was draining his energy away. "That's… sort of an understatement. Futaba-chan kept cackling to herself the entire time, and I've never seen Haru-san and Makoto-san act so… eager. And Ann-san insisted on trying nearly her entire makeup collection on me, before deciding I didn't need any and she wiped it all off…"

"Sounds like a rough time," Ren commented absently, more busy with searing the picture of Akechi in a maid uniform into his memory and never letting go of it than listening. Akechi, noticing Ren's hyperfocused, unblinking stare, flinched once more before glowering in a way that could have made the toughest of people recoil.

"A-Anyway," he barked, his cheeks managing the amazing feat of flushing an even darker red, "why am I even wearing this? Why not at least a butler outfit instead of a maid?!"

He had asked the million yen question, but Ren didn't immediately respond. He simply returned Akechi's flustered gaze, though his was entirely stoic. Then, he spoke.

"Because I thought you'd look cute."

His eyes didn't waver. There was no hint of a single emotion showing through, neither on his face nor his voice. "And I was right. You do look cute."

Akechi did a double take, clearly torn between two very different reactions. In the end, he leaned for a furious blush, and when he mumbled his response, he was looking away. "H-How can you say that with such a straight face…"

Ren merely smirked by way of reply, a devilish glint flashing across his face he usually only revealed as Joker. Akechi had no idea just how endearing he was… especially when his buttons were being pushed with so little ceremony.

"Come here."

Akechi froze mid-rant, as though a time-stopping spell had been cast on him. The effect was quite amusing, but Ren was rather certain this was a thought best kept to himself. At any rate, Akechi fixed him with a wary stare – then slowly, gingerly, made his way to Ren's booth.

"…What," he asked curtly, eyes fleeting elsewhere as a stupidly smug look stole over Ren's features.

"Can you hold your fists up—knuckles facing my way, you need to bend your wrists—and say 'Welcome home, Master! Nya~!'?" Ren requested, eyes extremely serious. "You know, like a cat. It'd go well with your ears and bell."

"Why you…!"

Truth be told, Ren wasn't teasing Akechi out of mischievous and inappropriate pleasure, no matter how entertaining it was to watch him get riled up so easily. No, the reason Ren kept going at it, what his heart truly told beneath the smirks and witty comebacks, was that seeing this side of Akechi was akin to cherishing a fleeting treasure. This was the side he never showed to anyone, far from the constantly guarded and proper façade he put up against the world. It made Ren feel special, like he was the sole person on Earth able to break through that saccharine mask and reach out to the real Akechi. The sole person on Earth privileged enough to witness it… and while Akechi was probably entirely oblivious to it, Ren thought of those rare instances as some of his most treasured memories, all hidden under the guise of friendly teasing. He should probably tone it down one day, however… maybe when Akechi would stop gripping his throat and shaking him like a roly-poly doll.

"You're having fun, are you?! Attic trash! Idiot!"

It took about ten minutes of kneeling down and apologizing profusely before Akechi's temper condescended to drop from exploding to simply boiling hot. Ren was not out of the woods yet, that was for certain, but it definitely was an improvement overall: Akechi did look slightly less like a demon. Ren cleared his throat and readjusted his askew glasses properly. Then, as if nothing happened, he returned to the booth and sat down, looking awkward. Even while he avoided Akechi's gaze, there was no failing to sense the deadly daggers burning into his temple.

"…Hey."

Akechi had spoken loud and clear, but Ren wasn't really sure it was a good idea to respond now when the risk of setting off the minefield again was still very real. This might be why he found the table extremely interesting suddenly. He had never noticed those ragged edges and carvings before, probably left by some unruly custom—

"Don't ignore me," Akechi snapped as he slammed one hand upon said table, startling Ren out of his feigned contemplation. "Besides this stupid request of yours… Is there anything else, in the realm of the acceptable and not completely degenerate, that you want me to do?"

"What?" Ren asked with a not so bright look on his face.

"I said, is there anything you would like me to do?" Akechi repeated very clearly. "Something maids usually do for their customers, for example?"

Ren gaped at him, blinking several times. He had understood every single individual word, but their meaning once put together was lost of him.

Then, realization kicked in, and a sly, cat-like smile returned to his face – much to Akechi's exasperation. "Do you feel bad, Akechi?"

Akechi snorted, but didn't answer. Ren knew he had hit bullseye. "Well, since you ask… I'd like it if you could make me omurice. If you'd please. Maids are supposed to be good cooks."

"…You do remember I have next to no skill in cooking whatsoever, do you?"

Akechi stared down at him, almost in defiance. But of course, they both knew Ren was not one to shrink back against a challenge (for better or worse). Besides, Ren definitely wanted to try Akechi's cooking, if simply for experiencing yet another facet of this delightful privilege he was lucky enough to have.

"I'm sure whatever you make will taste great," he assured gently, catching Akechi off-guard with a faint flush which he hastily averted. It only served to make Ren want to tease him more, but he decided to cut him some slack in the end – Akechi deserved a break. "There's leftover rice in the fridge—it's supposed to be for curry, but I'm sure Sojiro won't mind. Ah, and the eggs are in there too. Don't forget the message."

"…The message?" Akechi asked coolly, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Never went in a maid café, Akechi? If you order omurice, the maid will write a message for you on top of it with ketchup. It's usually something cute like 'Do your best!' or 'I love you, Master!', but the customer can also ask for a personalized message. It's a practice that's been rampant around maid cafés for years now, starting with—"

"I don't recall asking for a history lesson on maid café practices, thank you very much!" Akechi cut off, his words sharp like a knife. "Anyway, I got the gist. I suppose I'll get to it now…"

"Looking forward to it," Ren replied airily, making himself comfortable. "I'm salivating already."

Half an hour later, Ren sort of realized he might need to reevaluate this assessment. The smell of burned rice and eggs pervaded every last corner of the shop (which served as an effective appetite suppressant, Ren had to admit).

"Are you absolutely sure you don't want my help, Akechi?" he asked after what had to be the thirtieth time, now leaning over the counter as he gaped at the disaster. But once again, his pointed question was met only with pure stubbornness.

"No, no, I'm fine—the rice stuck a bit to the pan but it's all right, I managed to scrape it off…"

Ren silently applauded Akechi's attempt at putting up a brave front even as he presented him with a thoroughly charred omurice. There was a sparkly, almost childlike expectant glint in his eyes, speaking of nervousness upon having his dish tasted and judged – before it completely slid off in favor of a stoney, unimpressed look.

"Let me guess. This is completely inedible, isn't it?"

"Well…"

Frankly, even 'inedible' was too good a word for it, but Ren couldn't think of any way to express this opinion with the tact and diplomacy the situation demanded – lest another eruption struck Leblanc again.

"It's… original?" he ventured clumsily, trying to sound casual, although his spoon remained entirely pristine. Akechi blinked at him, and Ren was certain for a split second he was about to snap, but Akechi merely ended up drooping his shoulders.

"You don't have to pretend. I'm not stupid, you know," he sighed, looking much more crestfallen than Ren thought he would be. Ren contemplated him for a long moment, features unfathomable… and then smiled.

"I know you're not. You're right, there's no way I can eat this" — Akechi almost imperceptibly winced, clearly hurt even if he didn't want to show it — "but you still took the time to prepare a meal for me, even though you admitted yourself that you're a bad cook. You stepped out of your comfort zone just to make me happy, and I sincerely appreciate it. Thanks, Akechi."

Akechi looked for all the world like Ren suddenly revealed right here and there he was packing his belongings for a one-way trip to the moon. He gaped at him, mouth opening and closing in succession, clearly unable to comprehend even a quarter of those words. It took him a few moments before he managed to recover his speech, although even that came out in little more than disconnected syllables. "Well, that's… It was just…"

"You know what's the best kind of maid? It's not the ones who are amazing cooks," Ren said as he motioned at Akechi to sit down beside him; a suggestion that was received hesitantly, but met all the same. "It's those who are able to make their customers happy at all times. Those who make their customers feel special."

Ren tilted his head to the side, his gentle smile never unwavering. "Like you did."

This time, all Akechi could respond with was utter, dumbfounded silence. Sensing he might be overstepping his boundaries, Ren quickly looked away, unwilling to have Akechi endure further embarrassment. "Anyway, let's get cracking. I'll show you how to make the best omurice ever. I have a great recipe right there."

Akechi peered at him, still looking very much like he wasn't believing whatever his ears registered those past minutes… until at last, a fond smile lit up his face. It was, in Ren's opinion, a sight to behold. "Let's!"

And a short time later, a perfect omurice throned in the middle of Ren's booth, its mouth-watering smell quickly making the former one nothing but a bad memory. All Ren wanted to do was shovel the entire thing in his mouth until not a single grain of rice was left.

"Ah, before that," Akechi interrupted as Ren reached for his spoon, much more eagerly this time, "I still have to write a message, don't I. What should I write…"

Ren froze on the spot, suddenly yelling at himself for being so scatterbrained. Of course! He forgot about the message! The best part!

"Look at you, Akechi. You became the perfect maid in the span of one afternoon," he found himself tease as Akechi began squirting ketchup upon the omelette, features tight with concentration. "You learned to make omurice, the staple of maid café menus. You didn't forget about the message, which is the most important part. It doesn't help that you look incredibly adorable in this outfit, but I already told you that. My lovely little maid, Akechi-chan~"

As he spoke, he nonchalantly reached out and nudged at the bell tied around Akechi's collar, making it chime. It took him about a nanosecond to regret doing that.

Unlike earlier, Ren thought the phrase 'glaring daggers' might not be the exact way to describe Akechi's expression in that moment. He wasn't glaring daggers. He was glaring bayonets. An open thirst for murder, or at least an urge to beat him up until nobody could recognize him. Even so, Ren wondered if he hadn't imagined it all, for an angelic and beaming smile stole over Akechi's frightening face just as quickly as it came. If Ren had paid closer attention, however, he might have noticed the slight twitch tugging at the corner of Akechi's lips as he responded, "…Aren't you the joker. Anyway, your meal is served!"

His voice booming with excitement, Akechi turned the plate so that it would face Ren properly. Ren tilted his head aside with a smile, a bit taken aback by how enthusiastic Akechi sounded, but his eagerness to read Akechi's message shoved his confusion away before it could settle in. "Thanks for the food! Let's see there what my little maid wrote…"

Ren's smile froze on his face. It looked permanently stuck there, making him appear not very smart. Far in the distance, he could hear the sound of his heart shattering in half.

On the omelette was one single, very simple word. The kanji for 'DIE.'

Ren sighed – he deserved that and he knew it – and finally took a spoonful of eggs. Akechi, who had now dropped all pretense by crossing his arms and huffing petulantly from afar, cracked an eye open and watched him from the corner of it, his features suddenly timid; almost like a child.

"S-So how is it," he asked bluntly, unwilling to beat around the bush any longer. Ren kept chewing, dragging the moment as much as he could (he was asking to be beaten up at that point), and then took a deep, dramatic breath.

"…It's all right. The eggs aren't runny enough and the rice's a little too hard. The whole thing could use more salt, too."

But just as Akechi was about to wrap his hands around his neck again, Ren gave him a playful wink and kept going, instantaneously stopping him dead in his tracks. "But I like it. Tastes like home."

Surprise flitted across Akechi's face for the space of a heartbeat, before his features turned unreadable. Then, very slowly, he hung his head low, strands of hair falling over his eyes and concealing them. But they did nothing for the vivid shade of crimson burning into his cheeks even as he parted his lips, looking as though he was fighting an inner battle to get the words out.

"W-Welcome home, then…"

Ren beamed.