Komatsu flips idly through the cookbook cracked open across his knees, spine worn and pages slightly frayed with use; this is one of his oldest, favorite collection of recipes, made special because it's a gift from one of his first masters. Back when he worked in lower star restaurants, gathering the valuable experience that would form the foundations of his career.
He has this book memorized from cover to cover, remembers long nights spent in his kitchen recreating the recipes, scrawling notes in cramped margins as he experimented with alterations to find what worked and what didn't.
And it's good Komatsu knows them like the back of his hand because he's seated in Coco's lap. There are hot gusts of air tingling over the shell of his ear as Coco leans forward to read over his shoulder, a singularly distracting sensation. Coco had asked, and so they're curled together on Komatsu's couch, the chef explaining in greater detail a few of his choice recipes.
Mouth working on autopilot, Komatsu lets his focus drift from the book to concentrate on the warmth of the thighs pressing against his own, comfortably cradling him to Coco's solid body.
"- the key here is the zigzag cut that allows -" Komatsu is saying, or thinks he's saying. He's not sure it matters, because Coco is paying his words half-attention at best; there are fingers fluttering around his hips, Coco unsure of his welcome or worried about crossing some non-existent boundary between them. Considering Komatsu climbed into his lap without prompting or permission - Coco is hesitant about touching, yes, but the bishokuya has made it clear he holds a great deal of fondness for his smaller companion, and Komatsu has no such compunction - the uncertainty is almost sweet.
Komatsu turns a page and continues talking, relaxing so his head falls back against Coco's chest. He feels muscles shift - but not tense, Coco has too much control for that - and settle, and then those fingers finally find their place, one hand wrapping lightly around Komatsu's right wrist, the other just above his hip.
He's not expecting ticklish pressure on the crown of his head as Coco noses at his hair, or the soft drag of his cheek, or the quiet exclamation of breath and press of what can't be anything other than pursed lips.
"Coco-san?" Komatsu asks, breathless because Coco just nuzzled him, kissed him. Only his head, but...
Coco stiffens and pulls away. "I apologize, Komatsu-kun, if my actions seem untoward-"
Komatsu carefully sets aside the cookbook, then twists in Coco's lap to silence the concerns with his mouth. It's a chaste touch of closed lips. Komatsu backs off when Coco makes a low sound of surprise, his eyes wide and skin stained pink. Someone else blushing is a nice change; he can't help but smile.
"It's fine," Komatsu says, kissing a reddened cheek. "Whatever you want is fine, Coco-san."
Coco is still for a moment, and then the flush fades, replaced by an expression filled with affection and gratefulness. The poison man so used to withdrawing from everyone, alone on his distant valley island - Komatsu is more than willing to be the exception to his self-inflicted seclusion.
A fingertip ghosts across the swell of his bottom lip. "Once more?" Coco asks, and there isn't anything hesitant about that.
Komatsu leans in again. This time, Coco meets him halfway.
A/N - I intend to write Komatsu into the lap of every Heavenly King. COUNT ON IT.
First time with Coco. I think I got him right, but tell me if I failed spectacularly.
Coco/Sunny to come next by request~
Oh, and if I keep writing these short ficlet things, I should probably start a collection, huh. Maybe I'll even take prompts? I like prompts, prompts are cool. We'll see.