Haru got home early. which wasn't really surprising given that he'd skipped everything that he was normally supposed to do on a Monday, and set to work cooking. It'd been a long day for as little as he'd been out, but there'd been so many things to do, he couldn't help but feel tired as he pulled the various ingredients from shopping bags, setting them up on the counter.

He took a deep breath, measuring out water, dropping in the salt, setting up the other pieces for the meal. It wasn't difficult work; Haru was used to cooking every day, and the chance to make something a little more ornate was appreciated. He just hoped that it would be appreciated back, just as much.

Water came to a rolling boil as Haru worked the flour on the counter, ignoring the white streaks on his face and on the various kitchen utensils around him. He would clean those later. Not a big deal. He had hours to finish.

He kneaded the dough with his hands in careful, practiced movements, thinking of his lover, though the comparison confused him. How was Mako like dough? He wasn't. Soft, slightly sweet, but it wasn't the same thing.

All the same, the little smile that slipped onto his face while he worked was definitely indicative of the person he worked for. With no one to see, there was no disguise whatsoever for the love in his eyes.

He used a rolling pin to flatten out the dough once it had finished rising, moving this way and that in the kitchen to prepare each individual piece of the evening's meal. Preparing it was sort of like a one-man relay, he thought. The smell of simmering garlic and onion with stewed tomato filled the apartment's little kitchen, but he concentrated on cutting out the pieces of dough to the specifications that he'd planned earlier. Each piece of cut trim was put back in the bowl until that's all that was left, and he rolled it, reflattened it, and did what he could with the collected scraps before each were transported to one of several baking sheets.

One by one, the sheets of dough became sheets of cookies, bottoms golden brown and tops a crisp, creamy white. Multi-tasking during that part was easy, letting him finish the sauce base and start on the next batch of dough - a simpler, egg-based yellow dough with salt. White powder filled the air as he worked, using his sharper knives to cut long strips once ready, setting those aside, then a moment of cleanup. He still had so much to do. Was there time?

He looked to the little cat clock on the wall — one of Mako's contribution to their little home — and frowned. There was still time, but the pressure was annoying. It was so much easier when he didn't need to worry about that. Nevertheless, the goal was worth it, and more important than anything else.

At least there were plenty of reasons to wash his hands throughout the whole process. The cold, rushing water afforded Haru moments of reprieve, be it from switching tasks, washing vegetables, or simply just that compulsive desire. Each time, he closed his eyes and relaxed for a few seconds, then got back to the task at hand.

The cookies cooled on the counter near the window, natural light streaming through the opened blinds. He chopped, he filleted, he pried, and he mixed, body never moving except for those stolen moments with the sink. Everything had to be perfect. The overlap for exchange was tight. Once the oven was free again, another pan took the former's place, baking clams for the evening.

The scent of butter and salt overtook burnt sugar from the little pot on the stove, and Haru wondered what Rei would say about his form now. Did chefs have form…? Even informal ones?

Eventually, once each piece had been prepared, ready to be assembled, Haru stole away to check on his gift for Mako, peeking into the cupboard with an almost devious little grin. He tapped at it, then went back to work.

Finally, and with only seconds to spare before he expected Mako to be home, Haru moved everything to the table. Plates, silverware, and cloth napkins for the two of them, set up on either side of the small table. Along with this was a bread basket, a bottle of sparkling cider, salad bowl, and a closed casserole dish of seafood pasta. The centerpiece, though, was the cake that had been nothing short of a headache. Double-layered white with cream and fresh fruit between and all around the edges. Each side was decorated with the cookies from earlier - all in the shape of dolphins, orcas, butterflies, penguins, sharks, and various other little things, mostly hearts and stars. On the top, he put the candles, 20 of them, arranged carefully in four even rows of five.

The only thing that was left was for Mako to come home and see it

Confident that everything would keep for a little while, Haru retreated to the place he knew Mako would come looking for him first — the bath.

Haru heard Mako come home, listening to the door as it opened and closed, and the slide of the others as he moved through the apartment to look for him. He heard the surprise in Mako's voice when he saw the table, and sunk down into the water to hide his smile.

"Haruuu? What is this? Did you do all of this for me…?"

As Mako got closer, he slipped further down until his head was completely submerged, then counted how the seconds until the vibrations of the floor through the tub let him know that the hand would be there to help him out of the tub in three, two, one…

Haru reached up to take it and smirked as he got up, water dripping over his naked form. He pretended not to notice the adorable blush on Makoto's face as he stepped out of the tub and onto the dolphin-shaped bathmat, and leaned in to greet him with a kiss

"Haru…"

Breathless Makoto was one one of Haru's favorite Makotos, and Haru gave a small sigh of contentment.

"Dinner's ready."

"I saw… you really didn't have to go through all of this work just for me!"

"It's fine. Just wait until I give you your present."

"A present, too?! Haruuu!"

He laughed, shaking his head to clear it of some of the water that had left it slicked against his face, and grinned when Makoto was forced to retreat to avoid getting wet.

"Go. I'll get dressed and meet you."

"Are you sure you… don't need some help?"

"Go." Haru grabbed a towel from the rack, rolling his eyes. He loved when Mako flirted, but as rare and beautiful as a sight it was, there were other things to attend to — they could get back to this later.

He wondered as he watched Mako apologize and retreat if he felt relieved that he didn't have to carry through with his question, though he was sure that he would have. Once he heard Mako open the door to the kitchen again, he followed after and leaned in, dressed only in a towel. "I forgot to get glasses out… can you do that for me?"

"I'd be happy to!"

Haru leaned against the doorframe and watched him as he went to the cupboard, loving the way the smile played on Mako's face, alternating between pleased and embarrassed, as if he wasn't sure if he should be allowed to feel quite this happy at being treated. At least letting him help would give him something to contribute. Haru loved that he needed that.

Upon opening the cupboard, though, Mako stopped entirely, just as Haru predicted he would, and fell silent for a few moments.

"Something wrong?" Haru asked, keeping his voice carefully level, as if he didn't already know.

"Haru…" He pulled the jar out of the cupboard carefully with both hands, turning to look at him over his shoulder. "What's this?"

"We can't have a cat at this apartment, but the management said a fish was okay."

Makoto held the jar up to look at the little calico-colored goldfish swimming around, long and beautiful tail fanned out behind it. He touched the red ribbon tied around the top, then looked back to Haru with a steadily broadening grin. "Does it have a name?"

"Dunno. Happy birthday." Haru ducked back from the door and padded down the hallway toward their bedroom to get dressed, knowing that the surprise had been a success. The soft smile that he wore wasn't going away any time soon.

It was going be a good night.