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Takumi opens the Impreza’s door, shivering at the rush of cold air. It bites at the exposed skin on his face, chilled with the promise of snow. He reaches across the transmission and grabs the plastic bag from the passenger’s seat. Its contents clatter against each other and the handle crinkles in his hand.
He pulls out a small, colorful package. Ribbons curl playfully down the side, a byproduct of at least ten minutes of effort with the scissors. But, in the end, it was worth it.
He carefully places the package in his pocket, tucking the ribbons away to stop them from slipping out of his pocket. He climbs out of the Impreza, shutting and locking the door. The sun gleams overhead, doing little to fight the chill digging into his skin. He pulls his jacket tighter around him and walks across the driveway.
The grass is still coated with a thin layer of frost, melting slowly as the day progresses. It glimmers in the sun and crunches underfoot. Once he reaches the door, he slings the bag on his arm and pulls out his keys. He flips to a small, silver one and slides it into the lock. It opens with a seamless click.
He steps inside, shutting the door behind him and pulling off his boots. The faint ambiance of cooking, with the clattering of pots and the quiet sound of beeping, filters through the house. The faint scent of something cooking follows. Keisuke must’ve started already.
Takumi makes his way to the kitchen. Keisuke is standing at the stove, his back turned and humming something under his breath. Takumi wraps his arms around Keisuke’s waist and rests his head on his shoulder
Keisuke jumps, his whisking abruptly stopping. “Takumi!” He turns, giving Takumi a small smile before returning to the pot. “Be careful, the stove’s on.”
“I know.” Takumi reluctantly removes his arms, letting Keisuke get back to work. He places the bag on the counter, away from the stove tops, and starts pulling out its contents. He lines up boxes of ripe strawberries, bright red and spotted with seeds. It was worth the time it took to find them. “I brought the strawberries.”
“That’s why it took you so long? I told you we could’ve gotten them together.” Keisuke removes the bowl from the pot with one hand and turns off the stove with the other. “I thought you were lost.” A teasing lilt rests in his voice.
“I couldn’t get lost coming here.” Takumi’s been here enough times in the past few weeks to be able to find his way here with his eyes closed . There’s no way he would repeat what happened the first time he tried to get here. “What are you doing?”
Keisuke fits the bowl into the mixer and attaches the whisk attachment to it. “Beating the eggs and sugar.” He starts it, the speed low and steady. “Can you measure out the flour? The recipe is over there.” He gestures to the counter beside him.
Takumi flips through the papers, kept together by a staple in the corner. The measurements are on the first page and Keisuke’s chicken scratch fills the margins. His finger briefly lingers on it. The amount of flour needed is edited, crossed out and replaced with a mixture that includes cornstarch. Takumi voices his confusion. “Cornstarch?”
“It should be on the counter with flour.” Keisuke doesn’t look up from the mixture, steadily increasing the speed.
Takumi sees the cornstarch, a stocky container next to the bag of flour. “But, why?”
Keisuke shrugs. “We don’t have cake flour, so it said to use that.”
Takumi reaches into one of the many cabinets in the kitchen and pulls out a small bowl. He places it on the scale and tares it, before grabbing the flour and cornstarch. He skims through the recipe, measuring out the ingredients as described.
He hands the bowl off to Keisuke when he’s done and watches while he adds it to the bowl in the mixer. “There’s a bowl with butter and milk. Can you grab it?” Keisuke pulls off the whisk, tapping it a few times against the bowl before setting it aside.
Takumi grabs the only other bowl, a small whisk already sitting inside. He stirs the mixture while walking over, breaking up the thin film that has thickened at the top. He stands next to Keisuke, holding this bowl out for him to take as well. But, Keisuke scoops out a large glop of the mixture and drops it into the bowl. He leans close, pressing his shoulder against Takumi’s, and scraps off the batter sticking to the spatula. “Lightly mix that together.” Keisuke’s voice brushes against Takumi’s ear.
He's completely doing that on purpose. Warmth crawls onto Takumi’s face and he knows he’s blushing.
Takumi ignores him and whisks the two mixtures together. But he can’t stop the smile that tugs on his lips.
Once Keisuke deems the mixture blended enough, he rests a hand on Takumi’s to stop his whisking and grabs the bowl. But, rather than letting Keisuke pull his hand back and continue working, Takumi intertwines them. Surely Keisuke could finish this part with one hand.
Keisuke huffs but doesn’t make a move to separate their hands. He positions the bowl carefully against the mixer and lets gravity pour it into the batter. He folds it into the eggs, scraping along the sides and bottom.
But, eventually, Keisuke needs his second hand back. He squeezes Takumi’s hand before pulling it free. Takumi lets him, and steps back to settle against the far counter. Keisuke pours the batter into three cake pans, evening them with the spatula. He taps each one a few times against the counter a few times, letting the one in his hands settle before moving onto the next one.
Takumi helps him put them into the oven, aligning them so all the pans fit on one rack. Keisuke shuts the door and leans back, wiping his hands against his pants. He sets a timer on the microwave. Flour sticks to his hair, dusting the blond with a thin layer of white.
Takumi considers running his hands through Keisuke’s hair to dislodge some of the flour. But, since they're in the kitchen cooking, he doubts it would be appreciated. “What are we doing next?”
Keisuke grabs the recipe and flips through it. “The filling, it looks like.” He looks up. “Wanna cut up the strawberries? I’ll make the glaze.”
Takumi nods and grabs a cutting board and knife. He washes the strawberries and dries them gently with a damp towel. For about eight or so of them, he just cuts off the tops, leaving the rest of the strawberry intact. He lines them up along the edge of a towel, the juices staining the paper.
The rest he cuts into thin slices, layering them carefully on the side. From across the kitchen, Keisuke rummages through the cabinets. Takumi gives him a look but doesn’t interrupt him. He grabs one of the spare strawberries and watches.
Keisuke stands with a bottle in hand, the glass a deep amber. Takumi can’t catch the name, but it’s clearly some kind of liqueur. He opens the bottle, peeling off the paper and pulling out the cork. A sharp, orange scent filters through the kitchen.
Keisuke pours some into the small pot on the stove and stirs it slowly. The orange scent mellows as it’s diluted. He removes the pot from the stove after a minute or so, giving it one last stir before laying the spoon over the pot’s edge. He reaches up and pulls down two glasses from the shelf. He fills both of them part way with the liqueur.
“Do you want to have some?” Keisuke holds out a glass, the drink the same soft amber as the bottle. He gives Takumi a small smile. “A chef must always try their ingredients.”
That isn’t necessarily true, in fact the only other ingredient Takumi tried was the strawberries, but he doesn't argue with Keisuke. He takes the offered glass. It’s cool in his hands and the drink reflects the overhead lights. He swirls the glass and brings it to his lips.
It’s stronger than he thought it would be, but he doesn’t choke on it. It’s sweet with a clear orange taste but with hints of vanilla. He doesn’t hate it. But it wouldn’t be his first choice of drink either. But it does pair well with the tartness of the strawberries.
Takumi places the glass to the side. Keisuke takes a long sip from his, a lopsided smirk tugging at his lips. “Not to your tastes?”
“It’s not bad but….” Takumi shrugs. There isn’t really any other way to describe it.
Keisuke laughs, light and pleasant. “It’s fine, you don’t have to like it. The flavour won’t be nearly as strong in the cake.” He places his glass on the counter and it clinks in the silence. “Did you finish?”
“Yeah.” Takumi grabs the basket and holds it out. The few strawberries left gleam in the light. “There’s a few extras.”
Keisuke grabs one and bites into it. Juice drips off his lips and he wipes it away with the back of his hand. Takumi looks away from Keisuke’s sharp grin. He will not give in to his teasing. Not right now, at least.
The timer goes off. Keisuke finishes off the strawberry, throwing the stem into the sink before grabbing a pair of woolen hot mats. He pulls out the cake pans and places them on the stove top. He inserts a toothpick into each one of them, rubbing it in between his fingers before moving on to the next one.
He holds out an angled spatula. “Help me remove them from the pans.”
Takumi takes the spatula and watches Keisuke remove the first one. He runs his spatula along the edge, taking care not to damage the cake. He places a wire rack over the pan and flips it, shaking it gently when the cake doesn’t slide out completely. He peels off the parchment paper on the bottom before flipping it once again.
Takumi copies Keisuke’s movements on the cake before him, taking great care in manipulating the spatula. Keisuke steps away and turns on the sink. But Takumi just continues working on removing the cakes.
The first one sticks and he has to use a little more force than necessary to shake it from the pan. Some of the cake sticks to the edge. It isn’t a significant amount, but it’s still fairly noticeable. That didn’t mess everything up, did it?
They’re going to frost them anyway. They’ll be none the wiser.
Takumi tenses as a pair of arms wrap around his waist. But he sinks into Keisuke’s embrace , leaning his head against his chest. “It’s fine,” Keisuke murmurs into his hair. “That can be the middle layer.”
Takumi hums. “I still have one more to go. Who knows how that one’ll come out.”
“I could do it?” Keisuke’s voice lightens, curling with a soft edge. “If you’re too afraid to.”
“No, I can do it.” Takumi loosens Keisuke’s grip. He grabs a hot mat and switches the freed cake with the cake pan. Keisuke steps back and grabs both of the wire racks. He does something with them while Takumi works on the second pan, making sure to run the spatula against the bottom of the pan.
This one slides out with ease, landing on the wire rack with minimal need to shake the pan. He peels off the parchment paper and flips the cake back over. Keisuke takes this one as well and drapes a cloth over it before shoving it into the fridge. While the door is open, he pulls the whipping cream.
He passes it off to Takumi. “Measure this out.”
Takumi grabs a measuring cup from the counter and skims over the ingredients. As per the recipe, he measures out the cream. It chills the measuring cup and condensation creeps up the glass.
He joins Keisuke at the mixer, who’s fitting it with the now clean whisk attachment. Keisuke takes the cream from him and pours it into the bowl. He shakes some sugar over it, emptying the small bowl of it he must’ve prepared beforehand.
The mixer whirls to life, whipping the cream and sugar quickly. Keisuke leans back and watches it for a few minutes before stopping it and scrapping the side of the bowl. He repeats the process a few times in increasingly shorter intervals.
Keisuke lifts the top of the mixer and whipped cream sticks to the whisk. Takumi leans forward, peering into the bowl. The whipped cream climbs the side of the bowl, ribboned by the whisk. Keisuke sticks a spoon into the cream, scooping a generous portion of it and holding out to Takumi. “Try it for me?” Keisuke asks with a grin.
Takumi takes the spoon and tries the cream. It’s light and fluffy, with an undertone of sweetness. He expected the undertone to be stronger. “It could be sweeter. Did you--”
Keisuke kisses him, short and sweet. He licks his lips, removing the small amount of whipped cream on them. His grin sharpens to a lopsided smirk. “I think it’s pretty sweet.”
He laughs, light and carefree. It floors Takumi every single time, no matter how much he’s heard it. He loves it and there’s no other way to say it.
But Takumi isn’t going to let him get away with teasing him like this.
Takumi reaches around Keisuke and dips his fingers into the whipped cream. He scoops out as much as he can and smears it against Keisuke’s face. And, for good measure, he uses his other hand to shake out the flour still caught in his hair.
“Hey!” Keisuke protests. He wipes some of the whipped cream off his face and shakes it off into the sink.
“I thought that you liked it?” Takumi presses his voice flat, but he can’t stop the smile tugging at his lips.
Keisuke laughs again, louder and more boisterous this time, and Takumi can’t help but join in.
He helps Keisuke clean up the whipped cream, a significant amount dropped onto the counter and floor when Takumi dug it out of the bowl, and remakes the whipped cream. This time Keisuke adds a little more sugar, making sure Takumi watches him measure out another few grams before adding it to the fresh cream.
By now, the cakes have cooled. Takumi helps Keisuke pull them out of the fridge, removing the damp cloth and sliding them onto a cutting board. They remove the tops with a knife, taking care not to cut off too much of the cake. Keisuke grabs a cake pan while Takumi fills a piping bag.
They assemble the cake carefully, alternating between layering whipped cream and strawberries. On the top of each cake layer, before Takumi pipes on the frosting, Keisuke brushes on some of the sugar reduction he made earlier. The orange scent of the liqueur blends with the strawberries.
In the end, it turned out fairly well. Takumi’s hand, while piping, wasn’t quite steady enough to create picturesque decorations, but they still look presentable. Keisuke places the strawberries in a ring afterwards and drizzles a small amount of the sugar reduction on top of them.
Keisuke returns the now-decorated cake to the fridge and grabs another of the leftover strawberries. He eats it slowly and tosses the stem into the sink.
“How long does it have to chill?” Takumi asks. Even with his fill of the cake scraps, he’s still desperate to try the cake.
“Two hours? I think.” Keisuke grabs the recipe, now spotted and crinkled. “Yeah. It needs to set or it’ll be hard to cut.”
Takumi nods. “Should we clean up some?”
Keisuke gives the kitchen a look, glancing over the dirtied pots and bowls. “It can wait. There’s something I wanna show you.”
Keisuke takes his hand and guides him through the house. Even after all the times Takumi’s come here, the sheer size of the place never fails to amaze him. And now, with lights and decorations hung up along the hallways, it’s even more beautiful.
Keisuke leads Takumi into the living room, a large window letting in light from the setting sun. A tall Christmas tree stands pressed into one corner, white and eye-catching. Lights and beads are wrapped around it while ornaments hang from its branches.
Something draws Takumi’s attention. He loosens his grip on Keisuke’s hand and steps closer to the tree.
Mixed within, what Takumi assumes are, the traditional Christmas ornaments are various car ornaments. They vary in size and type; some are plastic while others are made of felt. In the center, just an inch or two above Takumi’s eyesight, are a pair of Rx7s. The FD’s bright yellow stands out against the tree while the white of the FC could almost be missed.
It’s really cute. Takumi can’t say he didn’t expect it, it’s oddly fitting, but he didn’t actually think he would see them on their tree. But, just like they’re apparently the type to have an elaborate Christmas tree, they’re the type to hang their cars on it as well.
Keisuke joins Takumi at the tree and fishes something out of his pocket. He leans across Takumi, blocking his view of the tree and what’s in his hands completely. Takumi indulges him, waiting while Keisuke messes with the tree. Keisuke leans back and gives Takumi a smile, one that’s hesitant.
Hanging on the tree, right below the FD and FC, is a small AE86, in the same black and white panda-esque colors as Takumi’s. It’s his Eight-Six.
A smile breaks out across his face.
“I thought since our cars were there already I could put yours there too.” Keisuke wraps his hand around Takumi's, threading their fingers together. “I know that--”
Takumi turns and kisses Keisuke, wrapping his free hand around Keisuke’s waist. They part and Takumi deeps the hug. “It’s perfect. I love it.”
“That’s good.” A thin shard of relief bleeds into Keisuke’s voice. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t.”
Takumi pulls the gift from his pocket, carefully unwinding the curled ribbons. He holds it out to Keisuke. “I got you something too.”
Confusion darts across Keisuke’s face. But it clears quickly and he starts laughing. Takumi blinks at him, trying to figure out what he said wrong. Keisuke calms himself quickly but the wide smile doesn’t leave his face. “That isn’t your present. That was just a….sentimentality I guess.” He gestures to the couch. “Wait here. I’ll go and grab it.”
Takumi sits on the couch, still holding the present in his hands and a little more embarrassed than he’d like to admit. But it was a fair assumption, just not a correct one. He looks over to the tree, the three ornaments hanging together on the branches. The lights on the tree reflect off them.
Keisuke returns a few minutes later with a small, colorful package in hand. He holds it gingerly and a small smile tugs at his lips. He sits next to Takumi, leaning an arm against the back of the couch.
Takumi hands him his gift first, the ribbon spilling off the sides. Keisuke sets the gift in his hands and takes it. He eases the ribbon off, pushing it over the closest corner until the careful knots are undone. He tears through the paper, revealing the navy box beneath it. Slowly, he removes the top.
Nestled within a thin fabric filler is a small keychain immortalizing the FD as Takumi first saw it, when Keisuke raced him for the first time on Akina. Keisuke pulls out the key chain and the metal winks in the light from the setting sun. His smile softens, edged with something Takumi can’t read.
“I couldn’t forget the first time we met,” Takumi starts quietly. “It was the moment I fell in love.” It truly was, even if Takumi hadn't realized it at the time. He fell in love so quickly he didn’t even have time to realize it. “And I want you to have a bit of that moment too.”
“That’s a race I will never forget.” Keisuke fishes his keys from his pocket and hooks the key chain onto them. “Either one.” He offers the wrapped gift in his hands to Takumi.
Takumi takes it, noting the slight weight. He peels off the tape and pulls out a small box with a thin lid. He removes the lid.
Sandwiched between two pieces of light cloth is a rectangular key chain. While Takumi fishes it out, Keisuke starts speaking. “It’s kinda a coincidence now that I got you one too.” Keisuke runs a hand through his hair, his smile twisting into something tense and hesitant. “But, with you going halfway across the world, I thought you could use something to remind you of us.” His voice quiets and a blush climbs up his cheeks. “And I want you to have something from me to be there while you race, even if I can’t be.”
In Takumi’s hand is a key chain with the blocky letters of Project D’s logo carved through. The metal is a steely grey, polished only enough to reflect the barest hints of light. It’s beautiful in its simplicity. He quickly attaches it to his keys. “I was thinking the same thing.”
They can’t physically be there for each other’s races. But this way, they each have something to join them while they’re driving.
Takumi leans forward and wraps his arms around Keisuke’s shoulders. Keisuke returns the hug, tightening his arms around Takumi’s waist. “I love you.” Takumi’s voice, low and quiet, is still loud in the silence.
“I love you too.” Keisuke presses his lips against Takumi’s hair line, the touch feather light.
Takumi sinks into his grasp. This is where he belongs, right here in Keisuke’s arms. This better than anything they’ve done today, any gift they’ve exchanged. Knowing that Keisuke is here, pressed against him, is the only thing he needs.
They spend the rest of the day like this, sitting in each other’s company. At one point, Keisuke untangles himself from Takumi’s arms to grab a fluffy blanket that they throw over their legs, fending off the slight chill that creeps into the room.
It's dark now, the sun having long since set. The only light is from the Christmas tree that casts a soft glow over the room. Takumi leans against Keisuke’s shoulder, his hand intertwined with his. It’s quiet with the gentle ambiance of the house settling over them.
Takumi sits up, tilting his head upwards. Keisuke meets him halfway, pressing their lips together. The kiss is long and slow and Takumi breaks it, he’s breathless. He smiles and snuggles closer. Keisuke wraps an arm around his shoulder and Takumi rests his head against his chest. Keisuke’s heartbeat echoes in his ears, steady and comforting.
Takumi falls asleep here, with Keisuke by his side.