Hello everyone! :-) Hm… I guess this is set after the war already, where I imagine that Sasuke would obviously go home with Naruto (because really, where would he go otherwise?) Naruto knowing how to cook is kind of a given… I don't think he could have grown that much with only instant ramen to eat, after all. :-)
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply.
Here we go!
Where the Stomach is
The first thing Sasuke noticed when he'd moved in with Naruto was that his blond teammate liked to cook.
He'd been surprised at first, having pegged the dobe as someone too lazy to make his meals from scratch. There was evidence of too much instant food (of the ramen kind, mostly) around the apartment for him to believe otherwise, after all. And so, the first time Naruto had pushed him to sit at the dinner table and nonchalantly set a piping hot bowl of gyudon before him, he'd simply stared.
Naruto, being Naruto, had insisted in his usual loud-mouthed way that, no, it wasn't poisoned and Sasuke-teme had better appreciate the cooking genius that was Naruto—because being a genius ninja obviously meant he was a genius at other things as well. And because Sasuke was hungry (and it smelled damn good), he picked up the chopsticks without even a word of thanks and started eating his fill. Naruto had been shocked into an awed sort of silence watching his brooding teammate eat without complaint, but he'd quickly swallowed his surprise—and that unfamiliar choked up feeling which he would rather die than admit to—finishing his own bowl as well.
This continued on for a week, then two, then three, with both boys sitting across from the other and eating Naruto's home cooking, until the blond grew tired of the silence and finally mustered up the courage to ask Sasuke if his cooking was any good.
"Food's food." The Uchiha had answered detachedly, picking up the last of that night's tempura with his chopsticks. Naruto would have thrown a great big fuss over how his cooking was certainly not just food, it was delicious food, thankyouverymuch, had Sasuke not added "it's not half bad" between bites, a mysterious red tinge to his otherwise pale pallor. It wasn't for Naruto to know, after all, that during those years at Orochimaru's lair, he'd eaten nothing but wild mushrooms and game –or whatever happened to run into his trap—cooked over coal, because everyone else in that place was abnormal and ate rats for dinner or chewed on lichen like it was the most delicious thing in the world.
He felt slightly nauseous thinking of the pitiful fare he'd had to eat then, and was suddenly uncharacteristically grateful that Naruto, though a loud and obnoxious flatmate at times, could (and would) actually whip up decent meals for the both of them.
As a result, the next time the blond entered the kitchen, blue eyes widened in surprise at the offering of a bright orange apron lying innocently on the countertop.
The only clue as to whence it came was in the form of a note in familiar, neat handwriting: Dobe, lichen is not and will never be considered a decent meal.
Smiling, if a bit confused, he donned the piece of cloth and pondered over what to make for dinner.
-End-