Kis-My-Ft2, B-Gourmet

Title: B-Gourmet
Rating/Warnings: PG
Summary: Senga coaxes Yokoo into saying yes to a home date.
AN: Written for Shiritori. Got linked the shoot with Senga feeding Watta this week and sooo cuuuute those two, geez. Also they both like to cook, so here.

B-Gourmet

A long, sweet kiss is all it takes for Senga to coax Yokoo into saying yes to a home date. Usually it doesn’t even take that, but Senga wanted something a little different this time.

“Explain to me again why I’m not allowed in my own kitchen?” Yokoo asks, arms crossed. He’s lurking in space between his counter and refrigerator, just behind the imaginary line that Senga threatened to reinforce with salt if Yokoo crossed.

“Because I’m showing you my cool side,” Senga replies, the fact that he’s wearing a frilled yellow apron that Yokoo knows for a fact is his mother’s notwithstanding. Senga brandishes his spoon when Yokoo leans forward. “No hovering! Go on, get, watch TV or something.”

“Can’t I at least get a beer out of my own fridge?” Yokoo wants to know. Senga hands him one with a cute smile and sends him on his way, slapping his rear for emphasis. “Brat,” Yokoo grumbles as he settles on his couch.

“I heard that.”

Yokoo tries to relax and watch the news as requested, but he only listens to every other word. The rest of his attention is focused on the sounds from his kitchen, trying to figure out what all the whisking and clunking and things Senga is muttering to himself mean. It isn’t that he doesn’t trust Senga in there, Senga’s probably as good a cook as Yokoo himself is. Yokoo just likes to know what’s going on, is all.

After fifteen minutes, Yokoo can’t take it anymore. He gets up and creeps quietly back to his kitchen. Fortunately, Senga is occupied poking at something on the stove, and so doesn’t notice at all when Yokoo sneaks up right behind him.

“Eek!” he squeaks when Yokoo grabs him around the waist. “Watta! You scared me! what do you think this is, a Busaiku sketch?”

“Couldn’t resist.” Yokoo hugged Senga more tightly, leaning down to bury his nose in Senga’s hair. “Smells good.”

“You mean the food?” Senga asks, then snorts when Yokoo just hums cryptically. “Ugh, you.”

“You love it,” Yokoo says confidently. He knows he’s right even before Senga turns his head to kiss Yokoo. It’s sweet and tastes like the sauce Senga is making, and something about it makes Yokoo squeeze him tighter, kiss Senga harder.

“Hm?” Senga asks, breaking the kiss to blink at him.

It feels comfortable, right, to have Senga in his kitchen, cooking for him, even shooing him off. He wants Senga to do it more, to be here more. He doesn’t mind sharing his space, if it’s Senga. Senga is still staring at him, and Yokoo chuckles at himself, feeling silly for thinking deeply about small things.

“It’s nothing,” Yokoo says. “I’m looking forward to eating your cooking.”

“Sap,” Senga accuses, but he doesn’t argue when Yokoo steals another kiss before Senga shoulders him off. “It’s just killing you not to do something, isn’t it? If you really have to, you can make the salad.”

“Your wish is my command,” Yokoo agrees, glad Senga knows him well enough to know that relaxing doesn’t exactly make Yokoo relaxed. Working side-by-side is much more comfortable, much better.

“Oh damn,” Senga says suddenly, making Yokoo look up quickly to make sure Senga hasn’t burned himself or set something on fire. Senga gives him a sheepish smile. “I totally forgot about dessert.”

“It’s fine,” Yokoo says, leaning over to kiss Senga’s cheek. “You’re sweet enough.”

“Oh my god, gross.” Senga bursts out laughing. “Seriously, what is up with you?”

Yokoo just gives him a toothy grin and promises they can make a combini run for ice cream after dinner, or pudding, or whatever Senga wants. Senga agrees ruefully that his B-class cooking would make anything fancier seem out of place, but Yokoo says he’s looking forward to it and means it. Just like he doesn’t care that the onions are a little burnt or the breading doesn’t exactly stick to the chicken breasts when Senga tries to flip them over. If it were him, Yokoo would be mad at himself, but Senga just laughs it off, and that’s one of the things Yokoo loves best about him.

“Well, I hope we aren’t on any cooking shows soon,” Senga says as they finish up. “But I’m glad you like it.”

“What kind of jerk doesn’t like food their boyfriend made for them?” Yokoo asks. He reaches over to pat Senga on the head, Maiko-style, making Senga laugh and swat at him. “Besides you look really cute in that apron, so you should do it more often.”

“Really?” Senga asks, and Yokoo nods. “Even though I kicked you out of your own kitchen?”

For just a second, Yokoo thinks about have a kitchen that’s theirs instead, someday. “Even so. I guess domesticity has its price.”

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