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Neither of them actually know how to cook. Eren always manages to burn the water he’s using to make macaroni and cheese. Jean was notorious for over-seasoning any recipe he was reading off from. Together they made a wonderful duo full of takeout boxes and to-go menus from a shit ton of Chinese and Indian and Italian restaurants around the small college campus.
The two had moved in after a couple of years knowing each other. Their first encounter under snowy circumstances had worked in their favor apparently and Eren finally had that residential friend that knew more about the ways of campus life than he. Even if Jean tended to act like a recluse. Jean had agreed to move in with the boy under certain conditions: no more flirting.
Eren had denied it. Saying he wasn’t even flirting and that he was just overly friendly and fun-loving. Jean took it with a grain of salt, huffing as he took a sip of his drink and shook his head as Eren shot him a wide-eyed smile. Their friendship was going to be a work in progress but thankfully the opportunity to share the same roof would make becoming best friends easier.
And that’s where they found themselves every day after struggling home from classes. On Mondays and Wednesdays, Eren would be the one strewn across the lone couch in the small living room, snoring like a chainsaw as Jean stumbled in loaded with textbooks he’d been studying at the library to avoid the noise. Tuesdays and Thursdays meant Jean was the first to arrive home – aka lock himself in his room and only coming out for food or a piss break and Eren would come in, knock on his door to let him know he was home and then fall into his own room. School and classes really tired them out and it was a miracle they both made it out with decent enough GPAs at the end of the semester and they figured their situation must be working out because soon enough, leases were signed and Jean and Eren were looking up at their new place off campus for the next year.
Six months was a lot different than an entire year and they both secretly hoped that nothing would cause a problem to arise between them. And it did work out to their favor; them avoiding each other most of the time to keep contact to the minimum and maintain that happy mood when they were stuck in a room together. But there was the one point of most nights that forced them upon each other.
The food.
It was in their shared kitchen.
Their disaster of a kitchen that included an overworked coffee machine and toaster solely for old bread and Pop Tarts was on its last resurrection as bowls of cereals lined the counters and glasses stacked in the sink.
But tonight was the night. Tonight was the night that they would use that stove for something that wasn’t Top Ramen and canned soup and they were going to have a nice dinner at home. Their home. They can totally do this. Living outside the dorms meant learning to cook for themselves and it would be easy.
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“Where the fuck is the can opener?”
“You don’t need a fucking can opener for a bottle, Jaeger.”
Eren huffs as he stares down at the bottle in his hand, the lid probably stuck on with gorilla glue because how the heck can a damn bottle not open. Jean looks over at him under his eyelashes as he stands over the boiling water on the stove. He sticks a hand out behind him, wiggling his fingers at Eren who scowls at the pale hand Jean has out. “Lemme see.”
Eren hands off the jar, practically shoving it into Jean’s hand that curls around the hard glass filled with pasta sauce. He’s still staring down at the water, too afraid to move his eyes away in fear that Eren might try to jump in and burn the thing. Distracted by the way the butter he’d thrown in melts into the boiling water, his hands clasp onto the lid and with a hard twist the cap pops off and he places the jar and lid back onto the counter next to the awaiting noodles.
“Asshole,” Eren murmurs as he goes back to cutting the few vegetables they’d managed to scrounge the money for over the week.
Jean hums over his shoulder, stirring a fork into the water to keep the butter moving around. “You almost done with the onions, we should probably start making the sauce part.”
Eren mumbles something that Jean doesn’t catch and he takes the few seconds before the butter fully dissolves and he’s required to dip the noodles into the water to turn around and stare at the other boy’s back. “Excuse me?”
“Nothing your highness. I will bring you your onions in a second – for you to stick up that salty ass of your.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Who the fuck made you the damn master chef in this, huh? Thought we were doing this as a team and not me being your sous chef to boss around while you stare at water boiling.”
“Sous chef?”
“Oh. SHUT UP! I’ve watched Food Network just like you and we both know just as little about anything so your prissy little attitude about fucking spaghetti is so dumb and irritating I could yell.”
“Then do it.”
“What?”
“Yell. Do it. If it’ll make you feel better about whatever you’re upset about – then yell.”
“You- you’re so-”
“Why don’t you go and check if the water’s ready and I’ll finish up what you’re doing.” Jean’s quiet as he shifts his way into Eren’s space and misses the way the tips of Eren’s ears burn a dark red in their kitchen’s artificial light. He grabs the knife that Eren had dropped onto their new chopping board and resumes the mess he’d been making with the vegetables. Eren stands there, open-mouthed and red-faced, staring at Jean before he turns back to the water and assesses it. He dumps the bundle of pasta from his hand into the boiling water, making sure to evade the small drips of hot water that splash up from the impact, and sticks the lid of the pot back on to let it soften the noodles.
He turns back around and nearly runs himself into Jean who’s holding a tray full of veggies and a knife behind him. “Uh.”
“I’m gonna go ahead and start trying to sauté these vegetables for the sauce. You can do whatever you want until the pasta cooks.”
Eren’s barely even hears him. His eyes trained on Jean’s chest and how he can somehow see him moving beneath the layer of shirts he has on underneath his hoodie. He’s mesmerized by his best friend and he has to shake his head to keep away the thoughts that are clouding his mind as Jean looks down at him, one eyebrow cocked in question. “I’ll help you.”
“You sure?” Jean sounds amused a little. Probably wondering why the sudden change of heart but ignores it when Eren nods his head, looking down between them.
“Yeah. I don’t really trust you to follow the directions and not burn my precious bell peppers.”
Jean smiles and Eren can feel the way his chest seems to inflate and heat all at once. His body freezes but the flames that lick through his veins as he just stands there and lets Jean walk around him to start the second burner on the stove grows brighter and hotter and sears itself straight into his bones that leave him shivering with goosebumps. He can feel his face turning red, his cheeks up in flames from the feeling building deep inside him and he curses internally. He’s known the guy for what? Like less than a year? And he’s already falling for the way Jean’s hair sticks up at the crown of his head, begging for fingers to slide through it.