Work Text:
It was a Tuesday night, and Yosuke was pleasantly surprised to find out as he came home that evening that Souji was making beef stew. Their entire apartment smelled like the thick, savory roux Souji had long ago mastered, and it welcomed him as he stepped inside, still shivering from the wind and damp of winter. The promised warmth of the stew, the softly roasted veggies and tender beef — it made Yosuke grateful, for a change, for the bitter freeze of January. He could really use the comfort, too, after a full day of work and class.
Even dead-tired, he’d offered to help Souji prepare dinner. But Souji had, as usual, politely declined. Yosuke had pouted and plopped his head into the crook of Souji’s shoulder and neck as his partner stood by the stove, stirring their dinner, but it hadn’t worked. His partner had turned and given him a particular look, familiar in its impassivity, that dissipated Yosuke’s urge to pout anymore.
So, Yosuke had started a load of towels in the washer instead and, trying his very best to avoid another stern glare from the kitchen, was now sprawled on the couch playing with a piece of his own hair as he stared blankly at the game show that always preceded the nightly news.
Like a good boy, he’d changed into his warm sweatpants and hoodie as soon as he’d been kicked out of the kitchen. A pair of Souji’s extra-thick thermal socks resting atop the neatly folded pile of laundry on the bed had been a natural addition to his loungewear. Yosuke had long ago stopped feeling guilty about stealing those comfortable socks since Souji hardly ever wore them. They were perfect in this kind of weather, too.
He had almost dozed off when he heard his name from the kitchen — Souji, telling him that dinner was ready. He sat up at once, wiping the sleep from his eyes as he listened to the clink of spoons in bowls and the sound of his partner’s socked feet padding across the laminate tile of their kitchen and over the jute rug that was starting to show its wear.
Souji handed him his bowl and Yosuke took it with a small but grateful smile, scooting over a bit so that he wasn’t taking up all of the sofa. He held his steaming bowl in one hand and with the other, grabbed the nearby blanket and began covering both their laps. Souji raised his arms to welcome the shield from the small apartment’s chill, which persisted despite their space heater running at High.
Yosuke was hoping that the stew would also warm them up. It felt nice merely holding the bowl, which was a comforting weight in his palms. It made his skin prickle and his stomach rumble in anticipation. The wafting scent of the stew’s spices told Yosuke everything he needed to know about how good it would taste.
Yosuke stirred the broth with his spoon, bringing the lumps of potatoes and beef and bits of carrot to the surface. The thin trails of steam immediately swelled into bigger ones, carrying heavy the stew’s scent and making Yosuke’s stomach that much crankier. He got a good spoonful and took his first, tentative taste. Exactly as expected: rich, meaty, and a sublime mix of savory with a hint of sweetness. Everything about it was perfect.
Souji really put everything he had into his dishes, even though he only ever cooked for just the two of them. On a busy weeknight, no less. Souji only had one day off every week, but he still found the time to make sure they had something good to eat at dinner. Souji would probably say it was because their breakfasts and lunches were usually left to fate in whether they had them or not, and Yosuke supposed he would have been right.
But Yosuke also knew that Souji just . . . liked this. Cooking for them. Making something that both of them could enjoy alone.
It didn’t matter — never did — that it was just a Tuesday.
Yosuke looked past his bowl, down at the blanket they were sharing (that they usually shared). His eyes followed the patterned stretch of wool over to Souji’s side, where they trailed up his waist, past his own bowl of stew, over his slightly exposed collarbone peeking above the neck of his long-sleeve tee, and finally, to his face — chewing on a bite of stew.
His cheeks were lit by the faint blue glow from the television, and his pale eyes shone in its reflection. He was clean-shaven and that always made his smooth cheeks appear more boyish than normal, even with his signature focus on the news story keeping his eyes properly trained on the screen. Yosuke had no idea what the news segment was even talking about, but he watched Souji’s jaw slow in the middle of a bite as something in the story grabbed more of his attention.
He had absolutely no idea how handsome he was, Yosuke realized, just eating stew in front of the evening news after a night of cooking over a hot stove. The snow outside fell and the sounds of traffic could be heard from their balcony window. The news droned on. Someone in the hallway slammed their front door. And Yosuke was still sitting there, studying the faint signs of maturity on Souji’s face, feeling lucky that he got to see them up close like this. That he got to see them at all.
Yosuke thought about kissing him, suddenly, like he’d never kissed him before, and the urge to do so nearly overwhelmed him until the weight of the soup bowl in his hands resurfaced to the front of his mind.
The spoon shifted along the lip of the bowl and he quickly grabbed it. The sound must have been a bit too loud, because a moment later he heard Souji’s voice over to his right.
“You okay?” he asked, with a slight smack of his lips as he chewed.
“Yeah, sorry,” Yosuke chuckled apologetically. He stirred his stew some more and then lifted another hefty bite to his lips, suddenly remembering how hungry he’d been moments ago. Thankfully, it was still piping hot. “Dinner’s amazing, by the way,” he said, once he’d swallowed. “I love it when you make beef stew.”
“Oh, yeah?”
Yosuke could hear the pleased air in Souji’s voice, and nodded enthusiastically, going in for another bite.
“It took me a while to find a recipe I liked . . . even longer for me to master it. I like it a lot, too,” he admitted, with a hint of pride.
“Honestly, partner,” Yosuke continued, his mouth full this time, “you haven’t made anything I don’t love.” He hummed over his bowl appreciatively. “But the beef stew, the beef stew,” he cried, scooping another bite onto his spoon before he’d finished that one.
Souji laughed. “Glad you like it so much.”
“I do,” Yosuke said, his chest expanding with warmth. “I really love it.”
They continued eating in companionable silence, with the soft sound of the TV in the background resuming its broadcast, as if the funny yet wonderful feeling fluttering around in Yosuke’s heart didn’t exist.
When they were finished, Yosuke brought both their bowls to the kitchen sink. Souji often washed dishes as he cooked, so there was never much for Yosuke to do by way of cleaning. He took care of their bowls and spoons and set them out to dry on the rack, then checked on the pot of leftover stew sitting on the holder. It was still too warm to put away; it probably needed to sit out another half-hour or so. He wiped down the counters and put away the spare ingredients Souji missed and headed back into the living space, towards the familiar lump of his partner on the end of the sofa.
The news had transitioned into the sports segment, a topic neither of them really cared about unless it was a national tournament of some kind. As Yosuke took his seat, Souji flipped channels until it landed on another program — an action movie that both of them had seen before and wasn’t as good as The Dumminator series, but a good watch nonetheless. It would do for a Tuesday night.
Yosuke curled up beneath the blanket again and tucked himself a bit closer to Souji than he normally might have. It was cold, after all.
And, of course, he did love Souji.
Souji gave Yosuke a curious yet pleased smile and nudged a little closer, as well. Their shoulders pressed together, and Yosuke laid one of his legs atop Souji’s knees which were tucked to the side and jutting into Yosuke’s personal space. Sitting like this, Souji’s face was just close enough to kiss. So, Yosuke did just that.
“Thanks for dinner,” he mumbled against Souji’s lips.
“Thanks for picking up,” Souji replied, and followed that up with another small kiss.
Their mouths carried the tang of the beef and spice of the stew — and like the stew, Yosuke savored it.