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runicloreFirst Day of Summer
Author: Amber Michelle
Pairing: Lehran/Sanaki
Fandom: Fire Emblem 9-10
Theme: 13 - excessive (chain)
Words: 1498
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Fire Emblem is copyrighted by Intelligent Systems and Nintendo. I'm not getting any money out of this, just satisfaction~
Notes: modern AU. Since I have no idea how to interpret this theme, I'm ignoring the second half and just using excessive as my inspiration. Prequel to Realignment, which will be up once I'm done nitpicking. And then I may ditch the modern AU for a while, so if you're not a fan, there's relief in sight. :p
...................................................................
Sanaki dipped her spoon into a cup of steamed egg custard and held it up, tilted it to see if the egg ran too much, then put it in her mouth. It tasted like egg, and shiitake mushroom, reminded her a little bit of the egg and chicken bowl her mother made whenever she wanted comfort food. Over the counter, where it curved out from the kitchen wall to extend the kitchen into the living room and border it with a white tile bar, she saw Sephiran in the opposite corner, at his desk, with the blue-white glow of his laptop. His typing was faint, overtaken by the hum of the refrigerator when it rumbled on behind her. She carved another scoop, tasted it, wondered if it was worth calling him in for. The tip of an orange shrimp tail peeked at her from the cup. She'd placed a slice of mushroom on top of each bowl before putting them in the oven; surrounded by the yellow egg, framed by the glazed white porcelain, they reminded her of eyes. Creepy, misshapen eyes, the kind that marked villains in supernatural books and anime-- not that she read any of that drivel.
So it only took her three hours and four batches to make a decent bowl of savory custard - and it would still taste better without the shrimp. Maybe she should have tried something easier. Nothing was wrong with grilled cod, or mackerel. A good old standby like teriyaki salmon wouldn't kill anybody either, and it was a cinch to make; throw together the sauce, marinate for an hour, drizzle with sesame oil, and it would taste like a masterpiece.
"How is it?" She heard Sephiran's chair squeak, heard the pad of his feet over the Persian rug. He had expensive taste, but the background was a beautiful cranberry red, and the golds and whites and greens of the design were still bright and clean.
"Passable." She looked up, and he leaned on the other side of the raised counter. "Time to give up."
His brows contracted a hair; he took the spoon from her, reached down for the bowl. "You're always so hard on yourself."
Sanaki put her hands on her hips and watched him eat a mouthful. He raised his eyebrows. "Well," she said, spreading a hand. "What does it taste like?"
"Chawanmushi," he said.
She rolled her eyes. "So I'm in the ballpark."
"It's good." Sephiran came around the counter, into the kitchen, digging for another bite. "Do we get to eat it? I'm starving."
"I can't believe you," she muttered as he leaned down to kiss her. She told him to take a second bowl, because they were small, and there was rice in the cooker-- then she took the last bowl of custard and picked the shrimp out. "Here."
He held his bowl out, the one they'd both eaten from, and she let the shrimp slide in. "Sit down," he said, rounding the counter to take a stool. The table they ordered was still in transit, or so the Amarna website told them; they had two of Zelgius's barstools on loan, the same ones they used when Sephiran was still his roommate. "You've done more work than I have."
That sounded better when one neglected to mention he'd gotten home an hour ago. The sky outside the sliding glass door was still pale, pink and yellow, darkening slowly to orange as it disappeared behind the treeline at the edge of the complex.Though Sanaki had opened the door to cool the kitchen while using the oven, splashing and yelling in the pool down below was louder than the tide. They were using the grill too; she smelled something on the coals - garlic, probably some kind of red meat, and wished she'd thought of putting more on the stove to supplement the chawanmushi. Chicken, anything. The rice looked lonely on her plate, blending with the plain glass and pretending it wasn't there.
She dumped her custard over it, digging it out with another spoon, and Sephiran laughed. "Doesn't that defeat the purpose?" When she stuck out her tongue, he tried to snatch it with his chopsticks.
"I'd like it better with chicken," Sanaki said. Her carrot flowers slid over the rice, onto the plate.
"So make it with chicken."
She scooped up a slice of carrot. There were little splits in the petals, like cherry blossoms. "That isn't the way it's supposed to be made."
"Who judges such a subjective thing?"
"All the recipes say--"
"She won't care. Don't worry so much about it."
Sanaki stuffed a spoonful of rice into her mouth, worked the carrot in around it, and stayed where she was - at the counter, to the left of the stove, which she hadn't turned off yet. She hit the button with the base of her spoon and pretended not to see his stare in her peripheral vision. Dishes filled the right side of the sink. "I just want her to know you're being fed - and not with those disgusting boxed mixes, or--"
"I managed just fine before," Sephiran said. She paused mid-chew, turned her head slightly to look at him. He smiled and tried to hide it, and his shoulders shook. "Those frozen dinner boxes were all his."
"Zelgius taught you so many bad habits."
He lifted a brow. "Now you sound like my mother."
Sanaki opened the cupboard behind her and stood on her toes to reach for a blue glass with a school of tiny fish scattered like yellow polka dots all over the side. She wedged it under the hook of the filtered water spout at the sink. "It's just, if she knows at least one of us won't burn the kitchen down--"
"Sanaki."
"Sephiran--"
"I have a request," he said.
Sanaki glanced over and tried to relax her frown, filled her glass by sound until it nearly overflowed, and brought it to her lips.
"That salt-cured salmon that you made last week," Sephiran said, carving a crescent of custard out of his second bowl. "And the rice mixed with hard-cooked eggs, and the corn chowder. And-- that spaghetti..."
She took little sips of water, and it hurt her teeth, it was so cold. Her shirt was soaking water in from the edge of the counter, getting clammy and cool, but the kitchen was still hot from running the oven for three hours. "That's four requests," she said.
He put his bowl down, the spoon clinking on the side. "Come here."
Sanaki took two sips, watching him watch her, then put the glass down and walked out of the kitchen. The stool actually made him taller; the wood creaked when she stepped up on the bar to meet him, for once able to look down at his face without being horizontal. "You already told me not to worry."
"Clearly I have to tell you again." He tugged her arm, and she heard his dish scrape across the tile, pushed away with his other hand. His pull was persistent, and he didn't led up until she gave in and straddled his lap, the edge of the counter hard against her spine. "If my mother wants to eat Japanese, she can go to a resturant and be served. I'm sure she won't bother, as she can make any of these dishes for herself at home at any time."
Though he steadied her with a hand, and the counter kept her from sliding back, Sanaki dug her fingers into his shoulders and listened to the scratch and slide of her manicured nails, made sure he felt their crescent bite through the cotton. The collar was unbuttoned. She stared at that. "You don't think she would want to feel at home?"
"Not if it means you exhaust yourself with stress." His fingers crawled up to her waist. "You have finals in two weeks. My mother understands this. Her opinion of you will not degrade simply because you aren't cooking for her. Don't waste your energy."
It wasn't like she'd exhausted herself in the kitchen. She wasn't his housewife, or his maid, or his mistress-- or maybe she was that, but the agreement didn't stipulate things like chores and food. No, she was just-- hot, maybe; she'd changed halfway through the first batch of custard, kicking her school clothes off for a skirt and tank. The oven heated the room; the air still vented from the back of the stove. The breeze from the sliding door was warm too. She shifted on Sephiran's lap, felt the smooth khaki fabric rub the inside of her thighs, and knew he'd tensed when the cords of muscle in his legs stood out, pronounced, through his pants.
No, exhausted wasn't it at all. Sanaki looked up, kept her chin down, and dragged her nails over the thin gray lines striping his shirt, across his heart, to pick at the buttons. "You should finish eating," she said. His stare made her legs weak. "It'll get cold."
Sephiran leaned in, kissed her cheek, nuzzled her hair. His arms folded over her waist and pulled her against his chest. "It's better cold."
................................................
I'll just say I'm dissatisfied. It's been that kind of month. Nothing is turning out right.
Author: Amber Michelle
Pairing: Lehran/Sanaki
Fandom: Fire Emblem 9-10
Theme: 13 - excessive (chain)
Words: 1498
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Fire Emblem is copyrighted by Intelligent Systems and Nintendo. I'm not getting any money out of this, just satisfaction~
Notes: modern AU. Since I have no idea how to interpret this theme, I'm ignoring the second half and just using excessive as my inspiration. Prequel to Realignment, which will be up once I'm done nitpicking. And then I may ditch the modern AU for a while, so if you're not a fan, there's relief in sight. :p
...................................................................
Sanaki dipped her spoon into a cup of steamed egg custard and held it up, tilted it to see if the egg ran too much, then put it in her mouth. It tasted like egg, and shiitake mushroom, reminded her a little bit of the egg and chicken bowl her mother made whenever she wanted comfort food. Over the counter, where it curved out from the kitchen wall to extend the kitchen into the living room and border it with a white tile bar, she saw Sephiran in the opposite corner, at his desk, with the blue-white glow of his laptop. His typing was faint, overtaken by the hum of the refrigerator when it rumbled on behind her. She carved another scoop, tasted it, wondered if it was worth calling him in for. The tip of an orange shrimp tail peeked at her from the cup. She'd placed a slice of mushroom on top of each bowl before putting them in the oven; surrounded by the yellow egg, framed by the glazed white porcelain, they reminded her of eyes. Creepy, misshapen eyes, the kind that marked villains in supernatural books and anime-- not that she read any of that drivel.
So it only took her three hours and four batches to make a decent bowl of savory custard - and it would still taste better without the shrimp. Maybe she should have tried something easier. Nothing was wrong with grilled cod, or mackerel. A good old standby like teriyaki salmon wouldn't kill anybody either, and it was a cinch to make; throw together the sauce, marinate for an hour, drizzle with sesame oil, and it would taste like a masterpiece.
"How is it?" She heard Sephiran's chair squeak, heard the pad of his feet over the Persian rug. He had expensive taste, but the background was a beautiful cranberry red, and the golds and whites and greens of the design were still bright and clean.
"Passable." She looked up, and he leaned on the other side of the raised counter. "Time to give up."
His brows contracted a hair; he took the spoon from her, reached down for the bowl. "You're always so hard on yourself."
Sanaki put her hands on her hips and watched him eat a mouthful. He raised his eyebrows. "Well," she said, spreading a hand. "What does it taste like?"
"Chawanmushi," he said.
She rolled her eyes. "So I'm in the ballpark."
"It's good." Sephiran came around the counter, into the kitchen, digging for another bite. "Do we get to eat it? I'm starving."
"I can't believe you," she muttered as he leaned down to kiss her. She told him to take a second bowl, because they were small, and there was rice in the cooker-- then she took the last bowl of custard and picked the shrimp out. "Here."
He held his bowl out, the one they'd both eaten from, and she let the shrimp slide in. "Sit down," he said, rounding the counter to take a stool. The table they ordered was still in transit, or so the Amarna website told them; they had two of Zelgius's barstools on loan, the same ones they used when Sephiran was still his roommate. "You've done more work than I have."
That sounded better when one neglected to mention he'd gotten home an hour ago. The sky outside the sliding glass door was still pale, pink and yellow, darkening slowly to orange as it disappeared behind the treeline at the edge of the complex.Though Sanaki had opened the door to cool the kitchen while using the oven, splashing and yelling in the pool down below was louder than the tide. They were using the grill too; she smelled something on the coals - garlic, probably some kind of red meat, and wished she'd thought of putting more on the stove to supplement the chawanmushi. Chicken, anything. The rice looked lonely on her plate, blending with the plain glass and pretending it wasn't there.
She dumped her custard over it, digging it out with another spoon, and Sephiran laughed. "Doesn't that defeat the purpose?" When she stuck out her tongue, he tried to snatch it with his chopsticks.
"I'd like it better with chicken," Sanaki said. Her carrot flowers slid over the rice, onto the plate.
"So make it with chicken."
She scooped up a slice of carrot. There were little splits in the petals, like cherry blossoms. "That isn't the way it's supposed to be made."
"Who judges such a subjective thing?"
"All the recipes say--"
"She won't care. Don't worry so much about it."
Sanaki stuffed a spoonful of rice into her mouth, worked the carrot in around it, and stayed where she was - at the counter, to the left of the stove, which she hadn't turned off yet. She hit the button with the base of her spoon and pretended not to see his stare in her peripheral vision. Dishes filled the right side of the sink. "I just want her to know you're being fed - and not with those disgusting boxed mixes, or--"
"I managed just fine before," Sephiran said. She paused mid-chew, turned her head slightly to look at him. He smiled and tried to hide it, and his shoulders shook. "Those frozen dinner boxes were all his."
"Zelgius taught you so many bad habits."
He lifted a brow. "Now you sound like my mother."
Sanaki opened the cupboard behind her and stood on her toes to reach for a blue glass with a school of tiny fish scattered like yellow polka dots all over the side. She wedged it under the hook of the filtered water spout at the sink. "It's just, if she knows at least one of us won't burn the kitchen down--"
"Sanaki."
"Sephiran--"
"I have a request," he said.
Sanaki glanced over and tried to relax her frown, filled her glass by sound until it nearly overflowed, and brought it to her lips.
"That salt-cured salmon that you made last week," Sephiran said, carving a crescent of custard out of his second bowl. "And the rice mixed with hard-cooked eggs, and the corn chowder. And-- that spaghetti..."
She took little sips of water, and it hurt her teeth, it was so cold. Her shirt was soaking water in from the edge of the counter, getting clammy and cool, but the kitchen was still hot from running the oven for three hours. "That's four requests," she said.
He put his bowl down, the spoon clinking on the side. "Come here."
Sanaki took two sips, watching him watch her, then put the glass down and walked out of the kitchen. The stool actually made him taller; the wood creaked when she stepped up on the bar to meet him, for once able to look down at his face without being horizontal. "You already told me not to worry."
"Clearly I have to tell you again." He tugged her arm, and she heard his dish scrape across the tile, pushed away with his other hand. His pull was persistent, and he didn't led up until she gave in and straddled his lap, the edge of the counter hard against her spine. "If my mother wants to eat Japanese, she can go to a resturant and be served. I'm sure she won't bother, as she can make any of these dishes for herself at home at any time."
Though he steadied her with a hand, and the counter kept her from sliding back, Sanaki dug her fingers into his shoulders and listened to the scratch and slide of her manicured nails, made sure he felt their crescent bite through the cotton. The collar was unbuttoned. She stared at that. "You don't think she would want to feel at home?"
"Not if it means you exhaust yourself with stress." His fingers crawled up to her waist. "You have finals in two weeks. My mother understands this. Her opinion of you will not degrade simply because you aren't cooking for her. Don't waste your energy."
It wasn't like she'd exhausted herself in the kitchen. She wasn't his housewife, or his maid, or his mistress-- or maybe she was that, but the agreement didn't stipulate things like chores and food. No, she was just-- hot, maybe; she'd changed halfway through the first batch of custard, kicking her school clothes off for a skirt and tank. The oven heated the room; the air still vented from the back of the stove. The breeze from the sliding door was warm too. She shifted on Sephiran's lap, felt the smooth khaki fabric rub the inside of her thighs, and knew he'd tensed when the cords of muscle in his legs stood out, pronounced, through his pants.
No, exhausted wasn't it at all. Sanaki looked up, kept her chin down, and dragged her nails over the thin gray lines striping his shirt, across his heart, to pick at the buttons. "You should finish eating," she said. His stare made her legs weak. "It'll get cold."
Sephiran leaned in, kissed her cheek, nuzzled her hair. His arms folded over her waist and pulled her against his chest. "It's better cold."
................................................
I'll just say I'm dissatisfied. It's been that kind of month. Nothing is turning out right.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-07-01 06:34 pm (UTC)I like the part when sephiran says sanaki sounds like his mother
c
no subject
Date: 2009-07-03 02:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-20 10:51 am (UTC)