Work Text:
On the third ring, Daigo picked up the phone. His smooth voice tumbled over the crackle of the receiver. “Mine,” he puffed, warm. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Mine stood in his office, in front of his desk with his briefcase in his cold-bitten hand and coat still on. Laid out on the mahogany wood was a half-page long message typed out by Katase. It was the only thing out of place on his desk when he came in. “I don’t remember authorizing approval for this merger. I still had to meet with the CFO and—“
“You told me a few nights ago that it was all finished and ready to be processed,” Daigo spoke with a soft and curious lift. It reminded Mine of curled golden edges of a pastry fresh from the oven. “Only one man stood in the way of your project. I talked to him and got him to understand your proposal. Then, I had Katase file for approval. I recognize I overstepped here, but considering every other piece was in place, I thought I’d help with the last part of the puzzle.”
Gingerly, Mine’s gaze abandoned the note and wandered ahead to the large red shades over the windows. They weren’t closed all the way, revealing a view of a skyline glowing like an electric web through the slits. If it weren’t for Daigo’s assistance, he’d have to be rewriting a contract right about now and pulling out all his notes for this merger again from the cabinet by the window.
“It’s alright if you’re mad at me. With how ornery you are with your work, I should’ve asked.”
“No, no,” Mine walked around his desk and set his briefcase down on his desk. There was much work to be done, but now not nearly as much. “It’s alright, Chairman. I’m thankful for it in fact.” He took a seat and summoned a tone that was rounded at the edges. Despite the cold front moving in across the city, there was genuine warmth to be found in this office and in the soft smile on Mine’s face. “You saved me a great deal of trouble by doing this favor. In fact, I want to thank you. Is there any evening soon you know you’ll be free?”
“Heh. Hell of a thing to ask me that,” Daigo smiled, his voice all charm. “‘No idea’ is my honest answer. But if I find an evening where I’m done early I’ll let you know right away. I hope you’re not trying to plan something big, I did this as a work favor, there’s no need to treat me.”
“I simply wish to show my thanks, Daigo-san.” His Chairman was so humble. Mine pressed his phone between his ear and shoulder and unlocked his briefcase. He organized files and sorted documents as he talked. “I know someone who works at an opera house that could get us tickets on short notice. The night is on me.”
“Opera? I’ve never been to the opera.”
“Opera then?” Mine opened his laptop and looked at his calendar. He could shuffle around two meetings to keep his evenings free for the next week. He paused when he heard Daigo take an unsteady sigh. Mine was making him overwhelmed. He took his phone again and set down his pen. “Or not. I just want to my appreciation for your consideration.”
He already said that. Next Daigo was going to back away entirely from his overbearing behavior. Mine straightened his back and brushed off informalities. Daigo was right that this was a work favor, to pretend this was an opportunity to go out as friends was foolish.
However, Mine didn’t have time to course correct before Daigo spoke again. “I’m not really the type for opera. If we’re taking an evening for ourselves I want to make the most of it. Something with a bit more…” he hesitated and lowered his voice. Someone had entered the room, perhaps? “Of an intimate touch.”
Mine hummed. “Perhaps a gallery?” Most museums would be closed but the city had a constant rotation of artists pouring in and out. He kept tabs on other fellow art collectors whom he trusted with finding galleries he would enjoy. There was bound to be at least one worth going to whenever they were both free. However, that appealed to his own personal tastes and… he really didn’t what kind of art Daigo liked. The line was silent again too. Bad idea. As a last-ditch effort to fill the air, Mine suggested, “Dinner?”
“Oh?” Daigo cooed, the sound flexing with interest as fabric folded over the receiver. Where was the Chairman anyway? It was late enough that he wouldn’t be in his office, but it was quiet to the point where he could listen to him breathe. A lack of background noise. Somewhere isolated. No need to concern himself with that for now.
Encouraged by the spark of interest, Mine tucked his phone back between his ear and shoulder and opened a new tab on his browser. Restaurants. Reservations he could figure out once they settled on a place. Dorsia was best, but he’d have to pull some serious strings to get a table for two there. “Do you have any preference for what kind of food you like to eat?”
Mine began cross-referencing restaurants that were between work and Daigo’s residence. Most of these places he had been to. Barcadia was good, but quality did not justify the price. 150 Wooster had an excellent collection of whiskey… but a mediocre menu. Despite knowing many of the fine dining spots in the area, there were a handful that Mine had never heard of before. Though he did not know Daigo’s taste in art, he knew Daigo enjoyed trying new restaurants. Perhaps Nell’s was a good option after all. Reviews seemed favorable as well.
“No, not particularly…” A beat. Then with a pinch of curiosity, “Where are you right now?”
Mine frowned and took his phone back into his hand. He clicked through his options with his other hand. Soft and a touch confused he responded, “Sorry?”
“I can hear your keyboard. Are you at your office?”
Mine pulled his hand away from clicking another potential candidate and back onto his lap. “And if I am?”
The air in Mine’s lungs vanished when he heard Daigo chuckle softly on the other end of the line. “I’m not chastising you for being a hard worker. But I am curious as to why you have no suggestions off the top of your head for restaurant ideas and need to use your computer for that.”
Mine traced a line on his pinstriped pants with his finger, holding back the urge to correct that he had an office in his apartment and could’ve been looking there. Oh, it’d be quiet there too. Maybe Daigo was at his apartment? Focus. Mine settled his hand flat on his thigh. “I’m not as familiar with the restaurants around here as you are. It’s helpful to know what my options are.”
“I suppose…” Daigo sighed, drawn-out satisfaction. Sounded like a good stretch. “Alright. Are you insisting on repaying me here?”
His tone had dropped into cooler waters. Nothing serious, there was still a friendly light charm in his voice, but he had a question that needed answering. Mine was firm on this in two directions. One, to repay Daigo’s kindness, and two, to not ‘buy’ this gift. “I insist on letting me treat you.”
“Such a charmer,” Daigo spoke with a warm wind again, like the first roll of summer coming down grassy hills. Mine closed his eyes and imagined the smile there and felt a shiver down his spine from the simile. “I’ll let you. Under one condition. Let your gift be the effort put in not the gift itself.”
Mine let out a subtle sigh of relief. It was always a good moment to know that they were on the same page. The only issue was that he struggled to figure out where to go with an idea like that. Perhaps hard to obtain things, where the exclusivity warranted the price, not the actual item. He’d still need something Daigo would want though and even if he sought out something that required a lot of craftsmanship, there was a chance he wouldn’t like it. Mine was not a gift giver. He accounted for taste, then purchased the most expensive option and got by that way whenever he was obligated to. A display of effort… and Daigo asked for an intimate touch.
Mine smiled. “A personalized vacation. I’ll design all the details to ensure a perfect weekend getaway for you. If there’s a place in the world you ever wanted to visit, I can arrange it.”
There was a long pause before Daigo spoke again. The gap of silence weighed down his excitement in finding the solution. The smile fell off his face as Daigo responded at last. “Would this vacation only be for me?”
Mine furrowed his brow. “Yes?” Otherwise, it wouldn’t exactly be a gift for Daigo then, would it? However clean his logic felt, there was a clear disconnect in reality. Over the other end of the phone, he heard him sigh—a pinch sad, a pinch disappointed. Fuck. There was some piece he was missing here that Daigo wanted out of him. He needed to be straightforward if that was it, however. “You should be honest with me, Chairman. I don’t appreciate being tugged around from point to point.”
“Sorry, I—my fault,” Daigo whispered. More fabric shifting, then a glass being set down on wood. In his mind, Mine imagined him sitting on a warm leather couch, sipping at a drink. Perhaps a Japanese whiskey as he said he tended to only drink bourbon when he was with Mine. His tie was loosened, but not undone, just the top button open. Hair breaking from its style and falling over his face. Relaxed. Warm.
It was much easier to bring himself back to normal reactions with this vision. Mine closed his eyes and gathered himself. “I shouldn’t have said that. What I mean is that it sounds like you already have an idea in mind for what kind of gift you’d like to receive from me. This guesswork is only making the situation messy. Just tell me about anything you want and I will do it.”
A pleased huff of air through Daigo’s nose. “Giving me a blank cheque is dangerous. But my request I think is pretty reasonable. Nothing you should be breaking the bank on.” Daigo hummed and pulled his voice softer and a tad reflective. “I want to eat something you’ve cooked.”
Mine had already been unsteady during the conversation but this request threw him to the floor. He blinked, not registering where he even was for a second. All the while, Daigo kept talking, seemingly utterly awed by his own idea.
“I heard you make your own lunches and eat in your office instead of going out. I admire that. I eat out way too often as I’m sure the notches on my belt can testify. But what does Yoshitaka Mine’s home cooking taste like? I’d like to know.“
Cooking was not something he thought much about, but unlike other chores, he did enjoy it. There was a science to it, particularly with his diet, to ensure he was getting all the protein he needed for his workout routines. The methodology had been developed since he was a kid, crafting and editing recipes down to a select few he made often. He didn’t experiment beyond this list unless he had a craving for a certain flavor. Baking was a similar journey, but more involved as he always had to quarter his recipes.
The act of cooking was private. He did it in his home with no witnesses. His meals were always for him and his personal tastes alone. And as such, Mine had never cooked for another person before.
Daigo broke the fog with a gentle step. “It’s alright if that doesn’t work. What I’m really interested in is the idea of dinner with you.” A soft laugh, “Let’s have something other than bar peanuts with our drinks.”
This was new, dangerous territory, but if Daigo wanted this then that was what he was going to do. He’d just have to figure out a way through it. The cooking he had no qualms about. It was the atmosphere that would catch him by the throat. That wasn’t impossible to manage, however. “I’m happy to cook for you.” Mine closed his laptop and took his pen. He grabbed a small notepad and began writing down meal ideas. “Do you have any allergies?”
“No, no allergies or anything I really dislike either. But, one more thing. I want you to cook something that's familiar to you. Something you know by heart. Nothing fancy or something that requires a recipe book. Now,” Daigo grunted and more fabric shifted. Mine guessed he was sitting up and was confirmed when he strained to hear Daigo padding over wood. “I’ll let you think on this and I’ll try to find time sometime this coming week. Don’t worry about the timing, I’ll give you plenty of room to prepare.”
Click.
Mine pulled his phone away from his ear and stared at the caller ID. He needed a lot more than just time to prepare.
When Daigo arrived, Mine performed his rehearsed steps to be a good host. Took his coat from him and hung it up. Asked if it wasn’t too hard to get here. Led him inside to the dinner table for two. Seated him. Offered a selection of red wines. Told him to relax and he’ll be done with dinner soon.
Daigo asked what he was cooking and he paused for a moment before deciding to say he had to wait and see. Smell and sound from the kitchen would give him away, but the hint of surprise was something Daigo could enjoy. And based on his small smile before he took a sip of Pinot Noir, he did enjoy the little game.
The pork chops were pre-beat that afternoon, having gone home early to prepare before Daigo’s arrival. Pounding the protein flat wasn’t a pleasant auditory experience, but nonetheless, he had to make sure the pork was flattened evenly. If it wasn’t, then it wouldn’t cook completely all the way through. Parts could be chewier while other sections were tougher. Mine measured the thickness by putting his gloved middle index knuckle against the pork chop and eyed it to be about one-fourth the height.
Satisfied, he cut slits into the fatty outer membrane to prevent it from curling up while frying. Then he laid the pork chop in a flour bath, turning it over and over to get an even coating before shaking off excess. He scooped up a portion of the flour, measured by muscle memory, and tossed it into the egg wash. He gave it a firm mix, then laid the pork in this bath as well. Silky yellow seeped over dusty pink as he turned and pressed it into the mixture. Satisfied with the coating, he lifted it and waited.
The ideal katsudon required an even coat of breading that wouldn’t flake off. The perfect egg wash was the secret to making sure the panko stuck. Once the egg stopped dripping, he moved over the breading bowl and pressed the pork into it. With a careful inspection, he covered every spot with an even distribution and set it on another plate by the frying pan. A thermometer was attached to the side, stuck in the hot oil, to carefully measure an even heat. This was the second step of a perfect katsudon. The heat had to be just right to make the fry even and reliable.
Mine looked back at the other pink pork chop waiting to be ‘dressed’. This cut was bigger and would be cooked second. The smaller cut would serve as his own meal as well as a trial run for any errors. If perfection couldn’t be achieved on his first pass-through, then it would be for the second. In addition, the first cutlet would be colder than the second by the time he plated, letting Daigo have the perfectly hot meal.
He grabbed his pork with tongs and laid it into the oil. Once it was in the bath, Mine pulled away and set his egg timer for five minutes. The warm and oily smell of fried food crackled up as the hot oil did its work. He took care not to mess with the cutlet as it cooked, not wanting the breading to break off. Staring at a temperature gauge for five minutes was not thrilling, but it ensured a good cook. Before the timer went off, he rolled it back another five minutes and carefully flipped the pork cutlet over. A golden brown was revealed, sparkling under the lights of his kitchen.
Fried panko wasn’t a smell he’d say enjoyed, but it was familiar even if the oiliness of it wasn’t pleasant. Before he began cooking, Mine put on Berberiades Extreme to his wrists and neck for the occasion. The smooth citrus mixed with tea likely had already faded, leaving the sandalwood paired with ginger to do the rest of the work in carrying a sense of style and confidence in him. As the night wore on, the amber and vanilla would sweeten the air. But if he stepped back into the dining room smelling like oil for Daigo, then his mood was going to be soured. He couldn’t let it get to him.
Soon his timer was up and he shut it off. Mine checked the color on the other side, making sure it matched the one on top. It was a little paler, so he let it cook for a few moments longer before he pulled it out and laid it on a wire rack. The oil dropped off onto a paper towel laid below.
Assured by his own skill, Mine repeated the same process for Daigo’s pork. Even coating of flour, an egg wash with the right consistency, a firm breading—pressed twice once the initial layer of breadcrumbs became soggy. Finally, he fried it and shifted it to lay by its twin.
As Daigo’s portion rested, he moved to the counter to finish the rest of the plating. This was the step he did not care for, but it mattered to be presentable to Daigo. Before he began cooking the pork, he cut up shredded cabbage and made a dressing. It sat in the fridge during cooking to get cold and baste in the vinaigrette. Now he spooned the bowl of salad between the two plates. Next, he took a large wad of rice from the rice cooker and filled in the rest of the plate with it. The tonkatsu sauce he had made right after he beat the pork chops, only having to redo it once for the perfect combination. He siphoned it into a gravy pitcher for a stylish pour. Normally he wouldn’t add sugar, but he mixed some in his recipe to appeal to Daigo’s sweet tooth tastes.
He took his pork chop off the wire rack, cut it into even strips, and laid it against the bed of rice. Then repeated the same action for Daigo’s portion. With a napkin, he cleaned off the edge of the plate, then took a step back to admire the pieces.
The pork was steaming from the cut, a perfect color inside and out. The dash of red cabbage among the white and green brought a nice bit of color to compliment the perfect golden brown of the breading. The crispiness was perfect from a visual perspective alone as well, with sharp flakes formed with as much care and beauty as a sword. This was about the best he could do.
Mine grabbed both plates with a firm hold and exited his kitchen, but he stepped out to find his dining table empty save for a glass of wine with a thin red film at the bottom. His eyes caught a flick of movement and he followed it to find Daigo in his living room, flipping through a book. Having heard him step out, Daigo glanced over his shoulder at him and closed whatever book he picked off from his shelf. Mine set the plates down and went back for the tonkatsu sauce. He returned just as Daigo was sitting back in his seat, watching Mine with patient eyes.
Ignoring the soft heat that came from the look, Mine poured the sauce in a smooth line down the katsudon and did the same for his own. Not a single drop out of place to ruin the presentation of the plate either. Mine set the sauce down between them and looked back over at Daigo. His smile widened as he looked down at the dish, crow's feet crinkling around his eyes and laugh lines creasing his face.
Mine took his seat, poured himself a glass of wine, topped off Daigo’s, and picked up his chopsticks. But didn’t move to eat. He kept his gaze locked on Daigo.
Daigo took his chopsticks, eyes observing the gold crust of his pork, and spoke with a curious air. There was an edge of excitement behind the polite words, trying not to rush in meeting Mine’s formality with his own. “Thank you for inviting me to your home and making this, Mine.” He picked up a crispy end with only a dollop of sauce and turned it around. The pale light above the dining table made the white meat glisten and flash. “I’ve been looking forward to eating something you’ve made for a long time.” Daigo smiled, took a deep breath, and brought the piece to his lips.
A strange curling emotion bloomed deep in Mine’s chest the moment Daigo’s pink lips closed around the polished black wood of the chopsticks. It wasn’t heavy enough to be distracting, in fact, it snuck in like a feather blown in through the window. What it did do was make him fixate on Daigo’s expression as he chewed.
The satisfaction present could’ve been read blind.
A grin curved his lips and eyes sparkled as he took a clump of cold cabbage and brought that too to his mouth. His jaw worked and Mine watched the way his cheeks puffed and the small soft space between his neck and jaw moved as he chewed. Then Daigo hummed, slow, sweet, drawn out. His eyes closed and he chewed slower, savoring the umami and crispness of the meal.
Mine’s food created that bliss. His food, had done this.
His home-cooked meal brought Daigo into a brief private moment to relish in a good meal. Daigo always had a pleased expression when snacking or getting a quick bite if they needed something other than liquor in their stomachs, but this was different in its focus and pleasure. Nothing in Mine’s work could even get him to look this satisfied. Bright and patient, delighted and warm.
Daigo ate his meal in a way that questioned Mine’s relationship to it. Cooking was a hobby that he sharpened for himself, but now he knew he wasn’t the only one who enjoyed it. If a simple meal such as katsudon could bring this kind of pleasure out of Daigo, what else could he make that would do that? What flavors did Daigo like best? What were his favorite foods? What were his guilty pleasures? What about desserts? He enjoyed sweets—there had to be a decent castella cake recipe in one of Mine’s cookbooks.
Next time. An unknown meal with castella cake.
“Are you alright?”
Mine blinked. He saw Daigo with his chopsticks hovering above his plate and his wine in hand, delicately taking a long sip.
“Hm?”
Daigo pulled his glass away and set it down. “It’s just you haven’t touched your meal.”
“Oh.” He needed to get a hold of himself. Mine scooped up a chunk of the salad, focusing on it instead of Daigo’s curious expression. “I’m fine. I got lost in thought for a brief moment is all.”
The mix of miso, soy sauce, vinegar, and sesame in the dressing made his tongue press the shredded cabbage to the roof of his mouth to preserve the sharp pop of salt and flavor. Too much dressing could ruin a salad, but he had perfected this too. The rice he didn’t need to check for its quality. He had spent enough time making rice with stolen pots and makeshift fires growing up to understand the method even with a cooker. The pork he tried next and understood Daigo’s delight the moment he put it on his tongue. Not dry and just the right amount of crispy. Perfect to chew and taste.
He could use more dinners like this. Taking the time to enjoy what he ate rather than planning ahead for how it’d help his body. The more attractive reason was for Daigo’s sake.
Simply put, he wanted to have Daigo eat more of his food.
“Daigo-san.”
Mine caught him mid-bite of a glob of sticky rice. He chewed and then wiped his lips with a cloth napkin before speaking. “Yes?”
“What would you say to the suggestion of making these dinners a more regular thing?” Mine presented his request with a formal tone, lighter than he would at a Clan meeting, but still an edge serious to get his intent across.
Daigo smiled. “I know your cooking will be as good as it is tonight, so yes. What evenings are usually best for you?”
He’d need his calendar to make sure but… “Most Thursdays I believe. That’s not a hard promise though.”
“If I can, I’ll start taking Thursdays off early then. We can warm up with some drinks,” Daigo took his glass by the stem and swirled the wine remaining. Soft, half-lidded eyes watched the motion, but Mine focused entirely on him. He brought his voice down to a puff of reverence that was quiet yet captivating. Mine was utterly drawn in. “Either at our bar or one of our apartments… then enjoy whatever the night brings us. Bourbon, company, dinner, dessert,” Daigo’s eyes flicked up to look right through Mine’s ivy tower and into his dissolvable heart. “And anything else that comes to mind. How does that sound? Yoshitaka?”
Mine’s gut dropped hearing his given name pass through the lips of the man who most deserved to say it. His wants and desires wrapped around his throat in ribbons and he impressed himself by replying without croaking. “Yes. That sounds wonderful.”
Daigo finished his sip, nodded, and returned to his katsudon. The moment his eyes left Mine, a wave of heat suddenly shut off, like he moved into the shade when the sun beat down on a late August afternoon. “Good,” Daigo said, light and friendly again. He picked up a strip of breaded pork. The best meal Mine had ever made. “It’s a date then.”