Tai sauntered into the kitchen. "Whatcha making, Takeru?"
The blonde didn't even look up. "Pistachio and cranberry biscotti," he muttered distractedly, brows scrunched up cutely. "Yama taught me how to make them..."
"Cool. Can I taste some?" Tai slid his arms around the shorter's waist.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because they aren't any good."
"How do you know? You haven't tasted them yet."
"It's my first time making them. And I don't cook."
"So what are you going to do with them?"
"Find out what I did wrong, and try to perfect them." He gave a little 'urk' as he was suddenly spun around. Tai's face was very close to his.
The brunette reached behind him, then tapped his nose with something moist—the white chocolate he was dipping the cookies in. "You're adorable when you're being a little perfectionist."
Takeru felt the blood rush into his head, making it very warm. Then, the random, only vaguely connected thoughts that came up when Tai made him blush came up. He suddenly imagined the chocolate on his nose melting off in very large amounts, somehow taking his skin with it, and then he was a skeleton, someone would toss him a hat, and he'd start dancing and Ray Charles would throw him another hat. And another hat. And another— He heard Tai's laugh and came back down to earth.
"Even cuter when you space out and think nonsense."
"I—I never think nonsense," Takeru stammered, still flushed, "That's your job."
Then Tai licked the chocolate off his nose, which made Takeru step back, and hit his lower back quite hard on the edge of the counter.
"Ow."
"Sorry."
"S'all right."
"I'll kiss it better."
Takeru smiled. "Okay."
-
In the end, Takeru still couldn't cook pistachio and cranberry biscotti dipped in white chocolate. That was all right, though, because Yama came over, scolded them for a while for leaving the ingredients out in the open, and made them himself.