c o n c e i t .

“hm? oh, nothing.” he knows better than to open that can of worms. sooner or later, he and flash would have to have an actual conversation about their memories, but not yet. harry is used to being the one in control  –  the person with all the answers, and now he’s so … well, the opposite. he’s all too eager to change the topic when they return to their innocent flirting. “of course i think you’re cute. i wouldn’t hook up with someone who isn’t cute.” his usual smug look returns as he reaches a hand out to cup one of flash’s cheeks. “and how about me? am i cute?” he’s joking, sort of.

horny jail is an appropriate phrase for whatever they’re doing. “you never answered my question.” he pulls his phone out of his back pocket and starts composing a text message. “but i’ve gone ahead and decided on the picnic. i’ll let the caterer know.” once the message is sent, he slides his phone back into his pocket and motions toward the limousine that’s just pulled up for them. “shall we?”

“nothing, huh? you trying to add mysterious to your perks?“ soon as harry flicks the dynamic from nebulous to the usual push-pull flirtation it’s too easy for flash to meet that energy. he doesn’t feel he’s on comfortable enough footing to dig too deep. whatever he and harry have going on -- it feels paper thin. flimsy. like if flash makes a misstep it’ll tear. “so i passed the shallow looks test?” he turns his face into harry’s palm and parts his lips, dragging his mouth up the lifeline of harry’s hand and stopping at the base of the thumb, words muffled against skin. “cute doesn’t fit you. hot, maybe.”

“i can promise you, i need no long term evidence that i saw you in a bathing suit.” she signed, mimicking his speech pattern alongside it, an unimpressed yet jokey expression littering her features. she had only really come because she was melting in the heat and had nothing better to do, but she supposed a little socialisation wouldn’t be the death of her. 

“besides, don’t you want the sun blocked? i’ve had enough of it to last a life time.”

soon as she starts signing with her hands flash has to smother down a spike of panic. he took a class in high school, but put on the spot all he can scrounge up is a sloppily signed ‘sorry’ and hopes she can read lips when he enunciates, “i’m not fluent.“

his mouth opens and snaps shut at that, trying to not let it bother him. he knows james doesn’t mean it in a bad way, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t twist something low in his stomach. the constant worry of being too much is usually pushed down, but now it threatens to rear it’s ugly head before he is distracted by the mention of a rat — and james outright lying to him.

remus listens, quietly, and steps down from the bed. the more his best friend talks, the more sure he is of the lie. it’s not that james is bad at it per se, it’s just that remus has heard him rambling like this before, which is why it’s easy to understand he isn’t telling the truth. the chase comes to a single question: why?

when he’s called on it, the words are what finally makes remus frown, ends of his lips turning downwards, an open expression of hurt on his face. how can james say that to him? “that’s not how it works! weren’t you the one who told me i was not a ‘me’ problem — why are you being such a hypocrite?” he remembers very similar words falling from his own mouth years ago, and how james convinced him it was not the truth.

after a moment of him trying not to get more heated, he continues, hands clenching to fists by his sides. “what the hell, james? is someone hurting you?”

hypocrite. soon as remus throws that insult out in the open it’s knee-jerk instinct to go on the defensive. “so it works the same way every time? for every problem? i can’t keep any fucking secret to myself?“ his fists clench, his shoulders tense, and james heaves a breath and breaks eye contact, gaze flicking sharply to the window.

he wants to leave. but where do you go if it’s your roommate and best friend you want to run away from?

Grace had a couple of hours without any clients and frankly she was getting a bit stir crazy in her office.  So she took her lunch and some files and headed to the park sitting on a bench.  Thinking no one was around she was free to sing along to her music, even so much as using her fork as a microphone at really important moments.  

It wasn’t until James spoke up did Grace realize that she wasn’t alone.  “Jesus James.”  She said with a start, trying not to drop everything from her lap.  “You need to wear a bell or something.”  Grace laughed, trying to calm herself down.  “Sorry to be distracting, clearly I didn’t see you there.  But absolutely please tell me what you have there.”

“a bell? like a cat or something?“ james laughs, not bothering to restrain the volume and it earns them a few looks. they’re comfortable enough friends that he’s able to joke, “i save roleplaying for the bedroom, grace.“

he makes of show of getting comfortable next to her on the bench. licks his thumb and smooths his eyebrows down, flicking the moleskin notebook open then clearing his throat to read, “she doesn’t realize all the faces turned toward her. doesn’t notice how she’s caught the eyes and ears of this hard to please new york crowd as she sings over traffic and conversation. new york’s own songbird, it’s golden feathered nightingale.“ smiling, he rips the page out and hands it to her.

they’re sitting on a bench on their lunch break when a voice comes out of nowhere and makes them jump. rey had chosen a spot in the middle of nowhere for a reason : to avoid having to encounter anyone else. this man, however, piques rey’s interest once he explains himself. “you wrote about me?” brow arches as they toss a half-eaten sandwich back into a brown paper bag and turn to face the man. “it better not be bad,” they say with a hint of a smile on their lips.

james reads from his notebook, pointer finger moving under the words as he raises his voice for them to hear. “it’s the ones that make an effort to be overlooked that guard the most secrets. in a city of constantly moving parts they stand steady, a solid rock in a steady stream. what will it take for them to finally dislodge from this safe space and challenge what they’re hiding from head on?“

“a charmer, okay.” caitlyn turned their head to the side as they laughed in an attempt to hide their blush; keep it cool, cailtyn her brain promptly reminded her before she turned back. the brush of their shoulders earned another soft chuckle from the blue-haired of the pair and she took a tentative look around them to assess the options. 

“i’ll take your word for it, but i’ve only managed to master beans on toast right now, and i think if i eat it again today i might go mad. do you like take out? my treat, considering i dragged you all the way out here. or, we can always test your kraft mac and cheese now?”

“so you think i’m charming?“ she draws the last word out -- the smile she can’t quite wipe from her face warming her voice as she says it.

Deena was no stranger to being cold, it didn’t happen often but sometimes her dad would drink away money intended for the bills and Deena would have to gather enough cash to cover the heating.  This weather was so so much worse though. With pizza in hand, even splurging on extra so they don’t have to go out during the storm, Deena entered the apartment relieved to find a fire already started.

“Hey my doctor drink just might end up saving us all in this weather.”  Deena laughed.  “I dare not come home empty handed.  I even bought extra, my treat.  I don’t know about pizza being flammable but I heard that you can set Doritos on fire and it can last a long while.”

vi shuffle-slides on her socks to the kitchen and collects a mismatched pair of plates and two mugs with anime characters on them. “i dunno. if it tastes as bad as i remember i might just melt some snow to drink.“ she sets the plates on the floor and fills the mugs with dr. pepper, waiting a beat for the carbonation to fizzle down before taking a sip. “eugh. blegh. this shit tastes like the medicine they give kids.”

akira hums, taking a sip of his own drink as he watches the other. ends of his lips are turned upwards a smirk as he nods, gesturing agreement with the flick of an open palm. “of course, no fun at all. you know-” he begins, then cuts himself short, the expression on his face turning solemn for a moment. the mention of cards flashes the memory of sae’s casino, her ridiculous games, how akechi had saved them with a careful shot, when he was… the prince. then the interrogation — unconsciously, his face twists before he cuts that line of thought, shaking his head quickly.

“never mind.” the joker lets out, slipping on that mask easily, locking away the unwanted memories, not wanting to bring them up or force akechi to remember now. the way the other looks at him, playful and direct, with his words always hiding something underneath; it makes something flutter in akira’s chest and he cannot help but let out a laugh, a genuine one this time. “i’m always having fun when i’m with you, goro.” he slips his first name, both a term of endearment as well as another demonstration of pushing his buttons. “i doubt i’d ever get bored but- i understand. i suppose i’m not too much of an open book myself.”

it’s easy to obscure details in the shadow and smoke of the bar. both their faces flicker in and out of clear view, but he doesn’t need akira in sharp perspective to read his expression. despite their similar nature of holding secrets close to their chest -- akira does have tells. that sudden abandoning of a train of thought is unlike him, but akechi chooses not to comment or tease.

he wonders what sort of unpleasantness akira is trying to keep from him now. that self-sacrificial nature is something akechi loves and absolutely detests about this man.