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Joe was just putting the final touches on the meal for his ‘guest’ when he heard what was probably the fifth heavy sigh in as many minutes. “I’m almost done,” he said, leaning to poke his head out of the kitchen. He bit back a snicker at the glare he received in response.
“You invited me here” came Cherry’s reply. “If I’d known it was going to take this long, I would have--”
“What?” Joe asked as he walked over, holding the plate high above his head. “Swung by the convenience store on the way home?”
Another glare. “I would have eaten at home.”
At that, Joe snorted. “A man cannot survive on cup noodles alone, Kaoru.” Cherry crossed his arms over his chest, but before he could retort, Joe cut him off. “Carla, what’s the nutritional value of cup noodles?”
The A.I. board awakened with a soft magenta glow from her charging dock in the corner. ‘Instant Cup Noodles. Calories: 188. Carbohydrates: 27 grams. Total Fat: 7 grams. Protein: 5--’
“That’s enough, Carla,” Cherry interrupted. “Sleep mode.”
‘Yes, Master,’ she answered and then powered down.
Cherry sighed. “I have other food at my house,” he said, though his gaze was on the plate in Joe’s hand.
“Frozen taiyaki from two years ago doesn’t count,” Joe said with a smirk. “But if you insist on going home…”
“I’m already here, so hand it over,” Cherry huffed, sitting back so Joe could set the plate down. “I am surprised by your menu choice for this evening,” Cherry went on, not realizing that Joe was waiting on purpose. “It’s been a while since you made them.”
Joe took the opportunity to place the dish in front of him, grinning all the while. “Buon appetito,” he said with a flourish and then drew back, ready for it.
Cherry looked at his meal and then up at Joe, an unimpressed expression on his face. “These are not onigiri,” he said flatly.
“I never said I was making onigiri,” Joe teased, pulling up a chair and straddling it.
“You told me you were making rice balls,” Cherry countered almost calmly. His only tell being the slight twitching of his eyebrow.
“These are rice balls.” Joe rested his forearms on the chair’s back and leaned forward, getting into Cherry’s personal space. “They’re arancini.”
Cherry took a deep breath in through his nose, his nostrils flaring. “And what, pray tell, are arancini?” But before Joe could even open his mouth, he added, “And don’t say ‘rice balls’ or I will kick you into the next millennium.”
Joe blinked and raised his hands before he answered. “They’re Italian rice balls,” he said, flashing a grin. “They’re typically filled with ragu and peas and then rolled in bread crumbs and parmesan cheese before being deep fried and served with marinara.”
He enjoyed watching the expression on Cherry’s face morph into one of disgust. “They sound awful.”
“Ouch.” Joe placed a hand over his chest. “You wound me, Kaoru.”
“I was expecting something lighter,” Cherry replied, as if excusing his earlier statement -- but not taking it back, of course -- “If I eat these heavy things, they’re going to sit in my stomach like lead. You do know it’s nearly midnight.”
“Of course, I do,” Joe said. “And I’m also familiar with your tastes and preferences, oh great Cherry blossom-sama,” he mocked. “Which is why these arancini are filled with salmon and peas, baked, and served with a light lemon cream sauce.”
Cherry blinked and then turned his gaze toward the plate. “That was...very thoughtful of you, Kojiro.”
Joe hummed, leaning an elbow on the counter. “What can I say? I’m always thinking of you,” he teased with a wink. It was worth it to see that light pink dust the other’s cheeks, which he caught just before Cherry kicked his chair -- hard -- nearly toppling it over.
“Idiot,” Cherry mumbled, facing his plate. “How does one go about eating an arancini?”
Joe reached for a roll-up and pulled out a fork. “Unless you want to use your hands--”
“As if I would.” Cherry narrowed his eyes before accepting the utensil. Then, with a voracity that others would never expect from someone so composed, he dug in. And, in mere moments, the plate was empty. “Well,” Cherry began, licking the last bit of sauce from his fork. “They were palatable.”
Joe laughed, loud enough that it visibly startled Cherry. “Palatable, he says.” He shook his head. “Honestly, can’t you ever just be honest and say, ‘Oh, Kojiro. The food you made was so delicious. You’ve ruined me for anyone else’s cooking!’?” he joked in a falsetto.
“My voice is lower than yours!” Cherry screeched, his usually deep voice rising two or three octaves. “And like hell I’d say that, you arrogant, big-headed, feeble-minded gorilla!” He stood up, pushing his chair back.
“Aww, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” Joe followed after him, catching Cherry just as he was unplugging Carla. “Sit back down. I made dessert.”
Cherry was still facing away. Joe was about to reach for him, when the other’s shoulders slumped. “You’re not wrong,” he said, almost too softly for Joe to hear. “You’ve ruined me.” He turned around, face pinched. “Why do you think I show up here at all hours?”
Joe swallowed. That...sounded like confession, didn’t it?
“Your food is amazing, you know that,” Cherry went on with a roll of his eyes. “Honestly, sometimes I’m eating somewhere with a client and I think, ‘Why didn’t we go to Kojiro’s?’” he admitted. “You’ve spoiled me and you’d better take responsibility.”
Joe just stood there, rooted to the spot. He opened his mouth, worked his jaw, and then wet his lips, unable to come up with a witty response.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Cherry questioned, a flush crawling up his neck and turning his face beet red. “You told me to be honest.”
Finally, Joe snapped out of his stupor, a smile curving his lips. He took Cherry’s hands in his. “I spoil you?” He chuckled.
And, as if he’d been burned, Cherry snatched his hands back. “Forget I said anything! You, you--”
“Dessert, Kaoru,” Joe said, turning around and walking briskly toward the kitchen to get it. He didn’t need to sneak a peek over his shoulder to know that Cherry had returned to his seat.