Author Note: A short AsuCaga piece. Random, with no plot whatsoever. Enjoy?
She doesn't like the way he makes the toast.
He wakes up a whole hour before her, so he makes breakfast, complete with the tea set out nicely around the plate of eggs over easy and muffins and his stupid toast.
(It's light, and crispy, with a hint of butter and nothing like it should be.)
His eyes crinkle as he smiles a good morning at her tousled hair she didn't care to comb and his light blue shirt she grabbed off the floor. She doesn't say anything because she's not a morning person and her toast is all wrong.
He shifts his eyes back over the newspaper he was reading and sips at his tea. (She half expects to see him hold his pinky out, but alas, not today.) She grabs a muffin, mutters something about incompetence in the kitchen, and childishly shovels eggs into her mouth.
Looking over his paper, he asks if anything is wrong and if she could pass the sugar please? His tea isn't quite right this morning. (Neither is the toast, but she refrains from saying anything as she tips the sugar container his way.) She dares a glance at the man in front of her, and tries to remembers a time when there was no blue-haired boy to chase away demons in the night and ruin her toast in the mornings. (It's not a time she likes to remember.)
She sighs. Sometimes he was the cause of the demons in the night, and more often than she liked to admit, she half-heartedly wishes it was Mana's cooking she woke up to. But if ruined toast was the cost of a shoulder to cry on when Father's Day rolled around or a warm body to cuddle with when she feels particularly overwhelmed, then so be it.
(She surmises there are steeper hills to climb than this.)
"You ruined the toast."
"No, I didn't. It's fine."
"No, it's all wrong."
"Oh, you mean not half-burnt with a whole container of butter slathered on top of it?"
"Stop smiling! You ruined the toast!"
"The toast is fine. And wipe your mouth. You have bread crumbs all over yourself, dear."