Hello, and welcome to my first story on this account! I don't own any of the characters, obviously. You can see this story is a product of my imagination because it is set in a world where skirts have pockets. Enjoy, and please leave a review!
Crème de la Crème
The Elite Ten Dormitory was located in the left wing of the Elite Ten Council Building, which was very convenient for conducting day-to-day business. Unfortunately, the building was situated on a hill, and although the slope wasn't a steep one, it still proved to be extremely inconvenient to climb – if you had spent the past the past three hours drinking, ahem, rice juice, that is.
As it happens, that's exactly what Kobayashi Rindō had been up to. Earlier that day she had heard some first year students talking about a party that was to take place at the Polar Star Dormitory. Apparently Yukihira Sōma had won another Shokugeki against some irrelevant second-year student and this was a cause for celebration amongst the freshmen. So naturally Rindō, like a responsible third-year and the occupant of the second seat of the Elite Ten, had to attend the party and keep watch on her underclassmen. One of the tasks of the Elite Ten was to set as example to the rest of the student body. After all, Tōtsuki is an establishment of the highest standards and accepted only the most refined of students. Everything about it was premium. Luxurious. Exclusive. Top-notch.
At least that was the excuse Rindō made as she pushed past Tadokoro Megumi and entered the Polar Star. It seemed like the party had started before she walked in. She saw two guys – one blond and one dark haired – exchanging blows in one corner. The next moment they were seen hugging. Isshiki, her fellow Elite Ten member, was running around in his trademark apron. Rindō allowed herself a couple of moment to appreciate the sight. Then she saw Yukihira Sōma whipping up some concoction in the corner, a couple of students – his guinea pigs, no doubt – trembling in front of him. The last thing she clearly remembers is someone (was it Tadokoro?) shoving (or politely offering) a glass of a cloudy white drink into her hand.
And that is why now, some hours later, she was stumbling her was up the gravel path leading to the Elite Ten building. Honestly, she was proud at herself for managing to undertake such a tedious task with such undeniable skill.
Approximately fifteen minutes later, she finally reached the entrance, slightly out of breath. Thankfully the door wasn't yet locked for the day so she didn't have to fumble for the key. She was just about to climb the stairs when she noticed the lights were still on in one of the kitchens on the ground floor. It piqued her interest. Who could still be cooking at this hour?
She skipped towards the kitchen and was exactly zero percent surprised when she saw a head full of fluffy white hair staring intently at the oven. The head was, of course, attached to the delicious body of none other than the Elite Ten First Seat.
"Eishi," she purred, "I was just asking myself, Who is this no-lifer who is wasting a perfectly good Sunday night on cooking."
"I'm not wasting anything. I'm using my free time to hone my skills to perfection. Something you should be doing, too," her classmate didn't even flinch at her provocation. Guess she would just have to be more provocative, then.
"But there is so mu-much," she hiccupped, "That you could be doing, right at this moment."
Tsukasa Eishi finally turned his crystal eyes to her, "What could I be doing, then?"
Rindō's lips stretched into a feline smile, "Me, for example." She burst into laughter at her amazing joke.
"You're downright hilarious, Rindō," Eishi deadpanned, "And you're also downright drunk."
"Where did you get that idea?" Rindō asked. Before he could answer, she saw a very inviting countertop. It was littered with various kitchen utensils, but she got the sense that each piece was just where it was supposed to be. She scoffed – she expected nothing less from the perfect perfectionist that is Tsukasa Eishi. She took great joy in pushing all the bowls, whisks, spoons, and whatnot to the sides of the countertop, clearing the surface. She hopped on, gracefully, of course, and swung her legs.
"That's super unhygienic, Rindō," Eishi muttered, becoming ghostly pale. She only laughed in his face, grabbed his collar – she would have grabbed his tie, but he always took it off while cooking – and pulled him closer. Their faces were almost level; as she was sitting, she was taller by a smidgeon. She liked this new sensation of being taller than him. "I bet we could make this countertop even more unhygienic than this."
"Was there no acceptable male specimens at the party you attended? Assuming you were partying, and not just drinking alone in your room."
"There were several," she licked her lips, "But I've already had acceptable. Now I want the best. The cream of the crop."
He raised his eyebrow, "And I'm the person you turn to?"
"Girls talk, you know," she answered slyly, "Don't they tell you how good you apparently are?" She let go of his shirt, which had scrunched up under her grip. He didn't step away and that alone sent a thrill through her body.
"No," he cocked his head, "I never ask them how it was."
Just like he never asks whether his dishes taste right. He already knows. Rindō suddenly felt the need to pull her thighs closer together. The room's temperature just skyrocketed and she didn't think it was the oven's fault (she had wondered briefly what was it that he was baking, but since then the room has mostly turned into a blur and she could only focus on the snack in front of her).
"Maybe I should go back to the party and check if there's anyone up to the challenge. Since clearly there's no one like that here," she thought she sounded very sleek while saying this and congratulated herself, which made her laugh.
Eishi grabbed her wrists and Rindō hazily thought that it's the first time that evening he was the one to initiate physical contact. It was an exciting thought, even more so than his words: "You're going to bed, that's where you're going."
"Are you coming with me?" she asked coyly.
"Only if you stop using middle-grade pick up lines," he smirked and pulled her off the counter. For a moment they stood face-to-face, completely still. Eishi's gaze flicked to her lips and she wondered would he actually kiss her. She hoped he would because, good Lord, after all these years, it was about time. But she was at this point quite aware that she probably reeked of all that sake from before, so she hoped he wouldn't really go for it. Still, his gaze, which didn't stop just at her lips, was so intense that she felt a heat rising to her cheeks.
His pale eyes met with her golden ones again, and she saw he was amused by the effect he had on her. She was definitely just about to push him away for being insolent and presumptuous, but he was faster and was soon guiding her through the kitchen door and up the stairs. The bedrooms were set up on the second floor (the first floor being reserved for the offices), so there were quite a few flights to take. But during the whole climb she focused mostly on his hand grasping her forearm and his touch searing through her school uniform.
They were just in front of her room when she had an amazing idea. "Eishi," she said seriously, "If we get married, will you take my surname?" She had a laughing bout, "Kobayashi Eishi! It rhymes! It's genius!" She wanted to pat herself on the back for coming up with a line like that. She wiped the tears out of her eyes and looked up, only to find him smiling faintly at her. "I knew you wouldn't be able to resist making another lame joke," he said.
She pouted theatrically, "Does that mean you're not joining me in bed?" He hummed in affirmation. "Fine," she pursed her lips, "But I have a little problem, you see."
"What is it?" he asked, and she could see he was only pretending to be annoyed and was probably already more than half concerned for her wellbeing. The fact that he could go from super confident to super worried about everything was just another part of his charm (which he had plenty of). It made her smile. "You see, I'm a bit tipsy," she started, and thought she could hear him mutter "No shit" under his breath, but she chose to ignore him, "And I'm positive I won't be able to unlock the door."
"And what would you have me do?" he asked.
"Oh, many things," she grinned, "But for now, could you find my key? It's in my pocket." She giggled and innocently fluttered her eyes at him, acting like a damsel in distress. She knew that he knew she didn't fit into the trope at all, but she also knew that the White Knight of the Table would not refuse such a small favour to his friend and classmate.
He looked her up and down again, "Which pocket?"
She hummed, as if in deep thought, and then shrugged, "Must be in one of them."
"Well then, I suppose I'll have to find it," his hands started to roam over her body. She relaxed and leaned against the door, an almost inaudible sigh inadvertently escaping her lips. He started with a light touch on her neck, just the tips of his fingers, outlined her shoulders and travelled down the arms, circled her waist and gripped her hips, until he fished out the little key from a miniature pocket on her skirt. He never once broke eye contact with her. And although he avoided all the areas she desperately wanted him to touch, she was beginning to feel a little weak in her knees; she didn't know whether it was because of the sake or because of Eishi, although she had her suspicions.
"Brace yourself," he whispered into her ear, sending chills down her spine. She wondered what he was about to do, but she didn't have to wait long to find out. He turned the key and pushed the door open. She would have lost her balance, were it not for his arm that had snaked around her waist. She found herself squished against his chest, and for a fleeting moment she asked herself How in the world did I end up here.
The next moment, she was back to her springy self and pulled Eishi into her room with her. "Well, my job here is done," he said, trying to back away. She put two of her fingers – the pointer and the middle finger – to his lips, shushing him. "It's a shame, really," she said, "I guess these would have to do, then." He quirked an eyebrow, silently demanding an explanation. Rindō grinned again, "Guess what I'm doing with these fingers later."
He let out something that was between a growl and a groan of desperation. Eishi then took hold of her wrist again, and parted his lips. He licked the tips of her fingers and then took them inside his mouth, eliciting a surprised moan from Rindō.
Eishi dropped her hand and took a step back. "As much as I'd like to stay and watch, you're still drunk," he shook his head, as if he, too, were asking himself how they'd found themselves in this situation, "And also I have about a minute and forty seconds before the oven timer goes off."
He was already at the door when he turned around and said, "Sweet dreams, Rindō." Then he sketched a bow and left her alone in the room.