PSL /Overflow/ Open Post

[1foxgiven]

 What it says on the tin.

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[1foxgiven]

"Hm? Oh - Dad does the shopping. I didn't look."

Kita hands the box to Osamu for perusal. Which is maybe a horror, pre-made stock, or maybe not.

"I think dashi?"

[chromatic_coma]

Osamu is not horrified by the premade stock; a bit surprised, because Kita's family seems too traditional to pick stuff like this up at the grocery store.

"Oh, this is the one my mom gets, too," he comments, turning the box over in his hands. "You know what makes it taste a lot better is some garlic. Have you got any?"

[1foxgiven]

Homemade is best. However, Kita's juggling volleyball with college prep. Both his parents work. Some things have to be sacrificed for the overall result. Including kitchen time and ingredient quality.

Fortunately, garlic made the cut!

Kita digs out a head and begins peeling cloves off. The smell stinging his nose.

"How much?"

[chromatic_coma]

"Two cloves," Osamu suggests. Unable to help himself, he steps towards the counter. "Let me. There's a much easier way to do this."

He grabs a knife out of the block, and uses it bluntly to smash the garlic cloves. The skins are loosened by the pressure, so it's ridiculously easy for Osamu to pull them off and toss them in the trash. Then he starts mincing the garlic, not quite waiting for permission.

[1foxgiven]

Osamu sweeps in with such assurance. Chopping, smooth and even. And fast. Quicker than Kita could ever manage. How many hours of practice does this represent?

Right. Words.

"That's a lot faster."

[chromatic_coma]

Osamu smiles a bit as he stirs the garlic into the sauce. The smell of the dish is already notably different. "Yeah. I saw it on a cookin' show before, the host was showin' how it's much easier this way and it releases more flavor, too."

He pauses, then realizes that he's somehow got hold of Kita's wooden spoon. "Ah, sorry. Sort of took over." He holds it out to give it back to its rightful owner.

[1foxgiven]

Instead, Kita holds up both hands. Smiling.

"Ya know, if you're feelin' that good, I'll let you work."

It's clear who the more experienced person is. Stepping back just makes sense. Also, if Kita's honest? He'd really like to see more. Find out if Osamu's as much of a monster here as on the court.

[chromatic_coma]

"You sure it's okay?" Osamu can't help but ask, not wanting to overstep. But Kita's smiling, so it's hard to doubt. He knows that his Captain is never anything short of certain.

Osamu asks for a spoon so that he can taste the sauce that the veggies and tofu are cooking in. After a small taste, he hums thoughtfully.

"How do you feel about spice? The heat kind and also the flavor kind."

[1foxgiven]

In answer, Kita pulls open a cabinet. Pointing to a turntable of spices.

"Show me what you've got."

Both invitation and challenge. He's curious to see how Osamu works with it, what the choices will be.

[chromatic_coma]

Osamu can't hold back the grin, practically a smirk, that tugs at his mouth. "Well okay then," he says, stepping over to the open cabinet and reviewing his options. He pulls a few of the little jars out decisively, and takes them back to the stove. Then he begins meting out a little of this and some of that, trying to balance the flavors of the dish. Citrus brightness, chili heat, and a hint of sweetness.

"Do you want to taste it for me?"

[1foxgiven]

Though Osamu's never been here, no one would know. Every move is confident. Fluid, at home the way he is on court. Maybe even more so. It's impossible to look away.

At the invitation, Kita nods. Dips in a spoon. Not the one used for stirring because germs. He lets the steam drift off. Sips. Considers.

"That does make a difference. It can be spicier, if you want."

[chromatic_coma]

Osamu watches like a hawk for any twitch of Kita's face, any change in his expression, that might betray what he thinks of the taste. But Kita's face is simply thoughtful, not giving him much to go off of. At least it probably isn't a bad taste, Osamu thinks. Though maybe Kita's poker face is just that good.

The verdict seems positive, in the end. Different, but said positively. Osamu nods and add a little more chili powder, then borrows another clean spoon for a taste of his own.

"Good," he decides. "Any spicier and you won't be able to taste the rest of the flavors. And I'll do the dishes later, by the way."

[1foxgiven]

"Even though you don't like it," Kita recalls. "Good."

It really does give a snapshot of how much Osamu's growing. That he's volunteering for his least favorite kitchen duty.

Kita begins working on the table. Setting down straw placemats, chopsticks with their rests. Next are the bowls. Black, with white flowers printed on the outside. He sinks into the rhythm. Nudging everything just so.

[chromatic_coma]

"Well it's rude to make a mess at a senpai's house," he mumbles sheepishly, surprised that Kita remembered that. "And I'm in the one imposin' considerin' I invited myself over. So yeah. Dishes."

Osamu finishes up the cooking while Kita sets the table and it's achingly domestic. He can't think about it too much or his heart will start to ache with want, and that's just too much to deal with right now.

"Who else is comin' to dinner?"

[1foxgiven]

Kita steps back. Both places so neat it puts catalogs to shame.

"Oh, no one else. My parents have an event."

Completely missing any confusion.

[chromatic_coma]

"Just us?" Osamu repeats, a little stunned. The food has to be enough for at least four people, although whatever is left over will be good enough for lunch for the next day. And hadn't Kita mentioned his parents would be home, or is Osamu's memory making things up?

Oh god. The domesticity increases. Osamu's heart is going to burst.

"What about your grandmother?" He asks, trying to keep it casual. "Doesn't she come over to eat with you sometimes?"

[1foxgiven]

Osamu hadn't asked, and Kita got caught up in the process of cooking. So no. That discussion is happening... right now, it turns out.

"She has Game Club. Said they're tryin' out Yu-gi-oh."

Retrieving the rice, Kita deposits a scoop in each bowl.

[chromatic_coma]

Osamu actually freezes for a moment as the glorious image of a group of old ladies playing Yu-Gi-Oh fills his mind. "Seriously? You should have said, 'Tsumu and I have a bunch of old cards we could've loaned 'em."

And then he remembers his twin, and the fight that brought him here, and he huffs a bit. "Food's done now," he says a little more stoically, turning the stove off beneath the pan. "Serve bowls here or bring it to the table?"

[1foxgiven]

Kita laughs but lets the Yu-gi-oh discussion lie. A pity. It would be fun, hearing what kind of deck Osamu built as a kid. Considering his brother/ main opponent? Probably very focused on power and speed. Tripping over trap cards. Forgetting about recursion, healing, anything strategic -

Maybe later.

"The table. There's a mat for it."

After a short fuss, dinner is ready to start. Kita sets his palms together. Bows his head. Then raises a smile to Osamu.

"Thanks for the food."

[chromatic_coma]

To be perfectly fair, Osamu wasn't much better as a kid. Always looking for the tankiest monsters, trading for the hardest hitting cards. He played a slightly more defensive game than Atusmu - but only barely.

Osamu brings the pan over, contents still sizzling, and sets it on the hot pad. Takes his seat opposite Kita's, and joins him in the polite 'Thanks for the food.'

Then he grabs the spoon to serve them both the tofu dish.

"I really hope you like it. Be honest, though."

Especially after the talk he just had with his twin, and the resulting argument, he really needs to know whether he can hack it as a chef.

[1foxgiven]

Kita nods.

The thing is, he already likes this. Sitting with just one other person, not having to divide his attention. There's no chores, no tasks. Only this result.

He takes a bite.

Sighs with deep satisfaction.

"Ha - I see why this is your favorite part. That's amazing."

[chromatic_coma]

It's that moment for him. The way the look of satisfaction and pleasure spreads on Kita's face as soon as the food hits his tongue. The way his whole body shifts, responding to the texture and taste. It makes pride fill every millimeter of Osamu, and he sits up a little straighter, holds his head higher. Thinks, 'I want to do that for the whole world.'

"You really think so? I mean, ah, it's nothin'. Really simple dish, it's just about dressin' it up right."

[1foxgiven]

It takes Kita two more bites to tear away.

"Don't start bein' modest now. No one would believe it."

There's a warmth in there. In fact, from anyone else? It would be full-on teasing.

[chromatic_coma]

Osamu is stunned for a moment, not used to this side of his normally very stoic upperclassman, but then he beams in spite of himself, puffed up with pride again.

"Well, if that's how you feel, then who needs modesty anyways?" He says with a toothy grin. "Dig in, Kita-san."

[1foxgiven]

Kita's own shoulders lift, seeing that smile. Like everything's gone a bit lighter.

He sets to work. Progressing steadily through the food, instead of sending it up in a typhoon. (Like certain members of Inarizaki...) Each bite is as good as the last. Texture and taste working together.

While lacking words to explain, Kita knows this much - It feels right, eating Osamu's food.