Surprise

Akechi was surprise.

Not a sort of, "your friends have gotten to your house before you with cake and streamers and presents to shower you in friendly affection and birthday wishes" surprise.

Granted, it wasn't "you've dropped your wallet in the middle of the road by accident on a walk one day and a superhero suddenly appeared behind you to return it when in reality, you have no idea who he is or why he flew until he found you and returned it without saying anything more" surprise, either.

After pondering it for not as long as his head made it out to be, he still couldn't explain to himself what kind of surprise it was. All he knew is that it was unlike any other he'd experienced and most certainly the one that sent the most shockwaves through him. The closest thing to Akechi's surprises were Nendou's, but Nendou's were most definitely frightening, or at the very least startling and he knew he didn't like them.

What he couldn't decide was if Akechi was a good surprise or not.

They were disorienting and irritating in a way, but he never found himself resisting them, he thinks. They definitely messed with his head, at least a little bit, if he allowed himself to be dramatic.

Then he entered the living room, to see exactly what he'd been ruminating on.

'What the hell are you doing?'

"Language, Kusuo-kun," Akechi said, pulling his hair out from under his neck.

He was draped on the couch-- well, "draped" wasn't exactly the right word for it. "Draped" would've implied a graceful folding of hands and crossing of legs, maybe while swirling liquor in one hand, with a cigar in the other, monogrammed waves of elegant silk spilling over a satin chair, with the quiet crackle of the fireplace perfectly complementing the soft violin and piano accompaniment of Camille Saint Saëns's Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso.

No, he was not being graceful in the slightest.

A better phrase was perhaps, "shifting and scooching his torso and legs in jerky movements while simultaneously fixing his hair and supporting his head with his hands, his legs hooked over the top of the couch and his head hanging upside down, partially supported by his hands still, in a way that might make him lightheaded if he'd sat like that for long," because that was, in fact, exactly what he was doing.

And now he was sitting there-- hanging there, looking back at Saiki with the most casual and relaxed look on his face he'd seen in a while, a heavy contrast from his usual piercing stare, finally settling into the right position and folding his hands over his stomach, twirling his fingers around and playfully kicking his feet.

"Did you get the movie, or did you simply want to come back and check to see if I'd burned the house down by now?"

And now he was hanging there, obviously suppressing a smile, because gosh darn it, he knew exactly what he was doing.

'Touma.'

...

"Kusuo-kun." He smiled. "I quite enjoy saying your name. Perhaps you feel the same way?"

'Why in the world are you hanging around upside down...?'

"Technically, I'm only partially upside down. My back is resting flat on the couch. And my feet are alternating between an exact 90° angle and a 180° angle, so technically, the angles are constantly changing, meaning that-"

'Stop it.'

Akechi chuckled.

"I'm not sure. I've enjoyed sitting in this manner since I was very young. It's fun and new, and after sitting in the same position for a long time, I tend to get bored. So, every now and again, I turn myself around and sit this way until I either become too light headed to bear, or until I feel bored of it. It's quite amusing to see the ceiling as the floor and imagine stepping over the fan and reaching out to touch things on the reversed ceiling, or maybe even to imagine someone sitting upside down on an armchair, or other things of that sort."