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The sound of food sizzling in a pan reaches the bedroom and probes the frontiers of Wakatoshi's consciousness. He cracks one lid open, reaching for his alarm clock to check the time.
Satori is up too early.
They may have moved in together not long ago, but Wakatoshi has known Satori’s routine like the back of his hand since they were teens. Satori is a nocturnal creature, he has always been – when he is not up late reading manga or binge-watching a show, he is researching new recipes in the kitchen until way after midnight. Sometimes he is still awake when Wakatoshi gets up for his morning run.
Back in high school, Wakatoshi couldn’t stop wondering how Satori managed to wake up and get ready for morning practice. Even if he seemed real sluggish in the first few minutes, Satori had always perked up quickly, running by Wakatoshi’s side and chatting away on his own.
He must have run on energy drinks, Wakatoshi theorizes for no better idea.
Nowadays, Satori decides to run with Wakatoshi from time to time, but more often than not Wakatoshi finds him still deep asleep when he returns from his run. It is rare for him to be up before Wakatoshi – except if he has never even slept – let alone to be active so early in the morning.
Wakatoshi rolls out of bed, heading to the bathroom. He washes his face, rubbing the remains of sleep out of his eyes, and brushes his teeth to rid him of his morning breath. He does not consider himself to be a vain person or someone who really cares about his appearance – he has kept the same hairstyle since kindergarten, after all – but Satori being up and cooking so early makes him check his face out in the mirror once more, fixing a few stray strands of hair before he walks out to the kitchen.
“Good morning, Wakatoshi-kun,” Satori sing-songs, waving with the spatula in his hand. “Take a seat, breakfast is almost ready. Would you like some hot cocoa? We got this new brand yesterday at work and I really want to try it. Hm?”
“Morning,” Wakatoshi nods and he tries to take a sneaky glance to see what Satori has cooked up behind his back. His suspicion only grows stronger when he spots a bottle of wine and some button mushrooms on the counter. “Are you, by chance, making hayashi rice?”
“Yes I am, by chance,” Satori replies with a chuckle. He turns back to his pot, stirs it one last time, and pulls it off the stove. When he turns back to Wakatoshi, he holds a spoon in his hand. “Would you do the honor and taste it?”
Wakatoshi walks up to him, eyeing the spoonful of hot and glistening brown sauce suspiciously. Satori’s smile widens as he leans close, blowing on the food before raising it to Wakatoshi’s lips. Wakatoshi opens his mouth obediently, and for a second all he can think about is how extremely lucky he is.
When he opens his eyes and is met with Satori’s expectant expression, he blinks away a blush rapidly creeping onto his cheeks.
“It’s great,” he says. “You’re a great cook,” he adds.
“I know,” Satori replies, clicking his tongue happily, then walks back to the dish rack and scoops out two mugs. “Cocoa?”
He doesn't even wait for Wakatoshi’s nodding approval before strolling for the fridge to reach for the milk. He ushers Wakatoshi in one of their kitchen stools, dances around him humming a tune unknown to Wakatoshi.
Five minutes later Wakatoshi is seated by the kitchen counter with a warm cup of cocoa shoved in his hand. As he watches Satori dart from one corner of the room to the other with mild amusement – rummaging through a cupboard, laying out plates, playing with a ladle in his hand – he realizes: Satori definitely wants something from him.
“Satori,” he starts, eloquent as ever. “You’re up early today.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
“Hm,” Satori puckers his lips, tapping over them in an exaggerated motion to show he is deep in thought. “You might be right, Wakatoshi. I like to sleep in lately, don’t I?”
“You do,” Wakatoshi agrees. “Though at least you get some sleep. You stay up until too late.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.”
“And you’re cooking hayashi rice,” Wakatoshi continues.
“Indeed! I’m such a good boyfriend, am I not?”
Wakatoshi really wants to press on, but he can’t not answer Satori’s teasing question in earnest. “Yes, you are.”
Satori laughs at him.
He is so beautiful when he laughs with his head tipped backwards and his neck exposed, Wakatoshi can’t tear his eyes away from him, let alone feel any frustration over being laughed at.
“You are one fine boyfriend yourself,” Satori says then fondly.
In reply, Wakatoshi pulls him in for a hug and plants a kiss on his temple.
“How is your cocoa?” Satori asks.
“I don’t know, I haven’t tried it yet,” Wakatoshi says. “Will you tell me why you are up so early, making my favorite dish?”
“Oh, are you implying that I have some ulterior motive?” Satori raises a brow. “Sure, you’re not wrong, but how dare you, Wakatoshi-kun, I’m but a humble boyfriend trying to bribe you…”
“Bribe me to do what, exactly?”
“So direct,” Satori snorts. “Alright, I give in. Remember when we tried to move my new desk last week, and you dropped it on your leg? And all you did was one short hiss from the pain? It got me to realize that I actually never heard you swearing, Wakatoshi.”
“I don’t like swearing.”
“I figured… but it got me curious. What do you sound like when you swear?”
“I don’t know. Like anyone else I suppose.”
“Would you swear for me? Please? Just this once?” Satori asks, batting his eyelashes.
Wakatoshi doesn’t get why him swearing would be so interesting, but he can’t say no to Satori’s stupid pretty face, and after all, there is no harm in a little swearing, just between the two of them. He clears his throat and sits back in his chair. Satori moves in with sparkles in his eyes, waiting for him as if he was about to perform something spectacular, not cuss at him. “Shit,” he says, voice soft. It comes off as endearment, less like cursing.
Satori bursts out in laughter, but in the fondest of ways, grabbing Wakatoshi and smacking a huge kiss on his cheek with a loud pop. “This is genius! I want more!” he demands.
“Damn,” Wakatoshi says with a little more confidence. “Fuck.”
“Oh god,” Satori says, hugging Wakatoshi close. Wakatoshi can see tears forming in the corner of his eyes from laughing so hard. “Can I please record you swearing and make that my text tone? Your voice when you curse is so gentle. It cracks me up so much.”
“I don’t see why that would be a good idea,” Wakatoshi argues, but he returns the hug.
“I would set it so it won’t go off in public,” Satori promises. “Please? I would be eternally grateful.”
Wakatoshi knows he has no chance to win – he lost this battle the moment he opened his eyes this morning. He sighs – a long, heavy sigh because even if he is not the most proficient at communications and mind games, he has learned that exaggerated sighs work extremely well on Satori – and he holds out his hand. “Phone.”
“Yiss!” Satori yelps, jumping up and running back to their room to grab his phone.
Wakatoshi watches Satori disappear before he hops off his chair to sneak up on the pot by the stove. He takes the plates, forgotten by Satori, opens the rice cooker, and serves the both of them. He is ladling the hayashi beef on top of the second plate when Satori finally returns, face red and out of breath.
“I had to dig up the whole room to find it, I thought I left it on the charger, then, that maybe I forgot it in my bag, but you know where I found it? Under. The. Bed. I must have tossed it under there while sleeping. Here,” he holds his phone out. “Recording.”
“Damn,” Wakatoshi swears on command, lifting up the two plates. “Let’s eat.”
Wakatoshi walks back to his seat, lays down the plates, pours a cup of water for the both of them. Satori needs some more time before he gathers himself, rubbing tears out of the corner of his eye. Wakatoshi doesn’t entirely understand what is so humorous in him swearing, but seeing Satori enjoy himself so much makes him happy too.
“Itadakimasu,” he says, smiling at his boyfriend.
“Bon appétit!” Satori replies.
*
Satori’s phone rings later that afternoon. Wakatoshi is struggling with his homework for his beginner course in French when he hears his own voice filling the room.
“Damn. Let's eat.”