Short and sweet :) Please review!
Seto clenched his eyes shut against the headache pounding against his skull. He slammed his front door and shed his suit coat, throwing it listlessly against the sofa. He tugged at the tie that had been suffocating him all day and undid the top button of his shirt for good measure.
If the headache didn't clue him in, then his running nose certainly did. He had a cold.
The light coming through the back window stung his eyes, but he braved it for the kitchen. There was some cold medicine in one of the cupboards. He'd put it there last time Mokuba had gotten sick.
He took one step into the kitchen and stopped cold.
His nose was so plugged up that he hadn't noticed that warm aroma of chicken noodle soup. He had been occupied, so he hadn't heard her soft humming or the clatter of pans. Despite his ignorance, there she was, standing at the stove with a wooden spoon. It was an ideal picture at best, except she couldn't cook.
She turned around and smiled, her blue hair swinging in the ponytail it hung in. She looked like she was about to say something but she stopped and took him in. Truly, it wasn't his best hour.
"I guess Mokuba was right," she concluded with a small smile. "I've never seen you sick before, Seto."
"And I'm sure I look awful," he thought about rolling his eyes at her, but it was too much effort.
"I wouldn't say awful," she mused. "In fact, I like this new look." She tugged at his limp tie, then turned to her soup and mumbled something under her breath.
It usually didn't take him this long to notice her blushing, but when he did realize, he took a step forward and wrapped his arms around her waist. "What was that, Kisara?"
She turned to face him again, her eyes shy, though her smile slightly wicked. She wrapped her arms around his neck, all while her cheeks took on a deeper shade. "I said that it's-" She bit her lip, then tried again. "That it's kind of sexy." Her eyes fell to the floor for a moment before meeting his again in slight defiance. "You're always so neat and proper; you aren't ever rumbled or unkempt."
He loved this side of her. When she was around others, her shyness got in the way of most interaction. She would smile and keep up with polite conversation, but she distanced herself from others before she let them in. It took him a while to realize that most of her shyness dropped away when they were alone. Most of it.
"You won't see it often," he said. "You better check to see that your soup isn't burning," he whispered in her ear.
The alarm on her face was priceless as she whirled out of his arms and snatched the wooden spoon up to stir whatever was in the pot. She shot him a well-earned glare. "It isn't burning!" She stirred it once, then, "Does soup burn?"
He groaned. "Yes, it does Kisara. Why are you cooking? I'd rather you didn't burn my house down."
She rolled her eyes, "It's from a can, so it isn't a big deal. I'm just heating it up! And anyways, Mokuba said you went to work sick so I wanted to make you something that would help. I think it's ready," she lifted the wooden spoon to her lips and took a sip, jerking it away in a split-second. "Yeah, it's ready!" She grabbed a bowl down from the cupboard- how did she know? She didn't come over that often- and set it on the countertop before pouring a good amount of the soup into the bowl.
Seto sat at the counter and took it, accepting a spoon from her small hand. "Thank you, Kisara."
She sat on the stool next to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Always, Seto."
He pulled away gently, "You're going to get sick if you come any closer."
She shrugged, "It was going to happen anyways."
