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“..What are you doing.”
It was said as more of a statement than a question, the house dead silent besides the occasional scrape of metal on metal, which soon slowed to a stop. Red eyes met gray and red ones, one pair vaguely confused and immensely irritated, and another surprised.
“...Baking..?”
Izuru scoffed. “I can see that. But it’s..” They glanced at the time behind Tanaka’s head. “..currently 12:01 AM. Why now?”
Initially, Izuru had been roused awake by their partner moving out of bed, but fell back asleep quickly. It was when they could hear the sounds of pans clanging and ingredients being mixed that they finally woke fully, heading downstairs to check on their lover.
Then there he was, in all his glory, both he and the kitchen covered in flour at midnight. What the hell was he even baking? Either way it would require a lot of clean up.
“Because!” Gundham puffed. “I got a craving for the saccharine delights of this mortal plane, yet..” He looked down at the bowl in his hands. “We had none, so I chose to make some myself!”
“..Hun,” Izuru pinched the bridge of their nose. They didn’t bother questioning why Tanaka decided now was a good time to satisfy his want for sweets, because honestly there were weirder things that he’s done. “You and I both know you can’t cook to save your life.”
“Tch-!” The breeder scoffed indignantly, eyes going wide. “Fool! You dare insult one of my status?!” Then he was grabbing some of the dry mixture in the bowl, tossing it at Izuru’s face. They blinked, then glared at Gundham, stalking around him. They kept their gazes locked, so the breeder didn’t notice the Ultimate Hope had gotten near the still open bag of flour until it was too late. He gasped, stumbling back, but was bombarded nonetheless by a puff of flour in his face that sent him spiralling into a fit of coughs and Russian curses.
Izuru let out a very uncharacteristic laugh as they translated the names Gundham was tossing at them, though it was quickly cut off by the slightly taller male shoving all the contents in the bowl at them. They, too, began coughing and spluttering, glaring at their lover through flour and their messy, unkempt hair. Gundham cackled through his seeming asthma attack, stumbling over and patting a hand on their back, as if that would help either of them.
When they both managed to catch their breath, they were on the floor, having slid down the cabinets until they were pressed close to each other, leaning on the other’s shoulder. Gundham was still letting out little chuckles, his hand running lightly through Izuru’s tangled hair. They turned to look at him with a scowl. When Gundham finally looked back at them, they huffily pecked him on the nose, before standing up.
“..You’re cleaning this all up you know.”
A sigh.
“..I know.”