Minato knows he should really be more concerned with the details of this sudden visit – the technicalities of how Akechi was allowed in here, for example – but it’s hard to do much more than stare when the attendant is rounding his desk with a bright greeting and what could very well be the most magnificent slice of cake Minato has ever seen balanced at his fingertips. He has a small habit of staring at things slightly open-mouthed, and this time is no different. He doesn’t realize that cake has him enraptured until he remembers to snap his lips shut. However, they curl at one corner without his permission – not a smile, but maybe something like it. “Normally, this is exactly the type of excuse I would be looking for to get away from here.” 

Here, meaning, the scatter of parchment across his desk. The thrills of being king never cease. 

“But I was told I’ve hit my limit with putting off…” excuse him, while he forces his gaze from moist chocolatey cake so he can squint at whatever the fuck he’s supposed to be doing, “the property divisions concerning neighboring countries.” Ah, right. Thrilling. “So my hands are a little full at the moment.” 

Akechi doesn’t seem deterred by this at all. He hums and sets the plate down, right on top of one of those very important papers. An accident, of course. “What a perfect opportunity then,” he chimes. 

Minato arcs one kingly brow. “For…?” 

“For practice at being your hands!” This idiot. He smiles and picks up the spoon sitting on the plate, carving out a delicate scoop.  “The left one, specifically.”

Minato makes a face; one that could be taken for irritation if concern did not also crinkle its way between his brows. The flush across his cheeks certainly doesn’t help. Does Akechi always need to do everything so…cute? 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. Your retainer position isn’t officialized yet.” 

“It has cream cheese frosting,” Akechi sing-songs, and Minato nearly deadpans at his sparkly expression. 

“You’re really just going to ignore what I’m saying.” 

He sure the hell is, as the only response Akechi gives is sailing the spoonful of cake directly towards Minato’s mouth. “Aaahhh~” 

Minato wishes he had the sheer willpower to ignore this display, but alas…his sweet-tooth is aching…that cake looks spongey and moist and he rarely gets the chance to have Akechi offer his creations by hand. Literally by hand. There’s a brief show of defiance where Minato keeps his lips pressed tight even as Akechi taps the tip of the spoon against them, but it takes all of one second – the threat of tears brimming at the corners of Minato’s eyes from the effort – before his mouth rips open and the spoon slips inside. 

It’s worth it. Full and sweet and so absolutely worth it, even if his eyes flick up and he thinks Akechi looks a little too smug for his liking. Bastard. He knows exactly how good it is. Minato has no choice; he’s forced to break his “my hands are busy” argument so he can lift one and gently curl it around Akechi’s wrist, the tips of his fingers slipping beneath the hem of his glove. He can’t help but smirk around the spoon in his mouth when the small gesture wipes that look clean off Akechi’s face, filling it in with shock and color instead. 

However, that too fades soon enough, Akechi’s expression melting into something softer and more honest. He pulls the spoon free, taking it with his other hand. His eyes are fixed on a small bit of frosting that clung to Minato’s upper lip. “You’ll put yourself in an early grave,” he warns quietly, “if you keep worrying so much, my lord.”

Minato thinks on it. He remains silent for a moment or two, and then slowly raises his eyes in time with the slide of his fingers up Akechi’s wrist. “Isn’t that what I have you for?”