A/N: Just a snippet drabble of a scene that doesn't happen for a LONG time yet, but I wanted to give you guys something because I know I'm behind in posting the main fic.
Set after New Year's of the same year as Stay With Me.
The one and only time Zoro cooked after his guest came to stay with him at Christmas was the day after New Year's. The city was under a horrid ice storm, and not even Hack's Café was open, let alone any of the delivery places that had been fueling the pair while his guest was laid up. So that left them with the options of going hungry—which wasn't really an option—or Zoro cooking and both of them praying he didn't blow up the building in the process.
Both were pleasantly surprised when the microwaved meatloaf and frozen broccoli didn't explode all over the nook that passed for the mosshead's kitchen. It even tasted fairly good, if his guest's ability to keep it down was any indication. Zoro didn't really know himself, by the time he'd gotten it cooked and cooled enough to eat he was so hungry he practically inhaled it.
They watched some old samurai movie that was all his dinky TV could pick up in the blowing wind and snow, and the bouncer was just about at the right level of comfy to drift off when his guest poked him.
"Hey."
He grunted in return. "Hm?"
"There any of those burrito thingies left from the other day? With the cheese?"
Looking down, he frowned a little, thinking. "Maybe. I'd have to get up to look though."
He ran his fingers through the other's hair a couple of times while silence indicated a debate going on internally, and he'd just about been re-absorbed into the movie when the other shifted to let him up. Meeting blue eyes with an indulgent smile, he gave a chuckle, then grabbed their plates on his way across the apartment.
"You're a barbarian, you know that?" Came the tired voice from behind him.
"You're surprised?" He smirked over his shoulder and held up one of the plates to scrub the ketchup off.
"No. I suppose I shouldn't be by now."
Giving a full on grin as he dried it, he turned around to lean on the counter. "Then there's no trouble."
"Most people wait until there's a sink full of dishes to wash them all."
"And waste the time, energy, and water on stuck on food? C'mon! You should know better!" He scoffed.
The plate was set down on the small table against the wall while he grabbed the last of the burrito things from the fridge and a package of shredded cheese.
"Hmph! It saves on soap."
"Soap's cheap, water's expensive." He gestured with a fork, then popped the whole trussed up plate in the nuker again. "You're just spoiled by the dishwasher at work."
"So what if I am?" The other sniffed with a lofty expression.
"Yeah, well, huny, I'm a bachelor and don't have time for fancy shit. What you see is what you get."
"A bachelor eh? And what am I? The lump on the couch?"
Before the timer on the microwave beeped he found himself with an armful of warm body and a pair of lips on his own that tasted just slightly like ketchup and raspberry tea. His hands traced the curves and lines until he'd completely melted into the kisses, and the other reciprocated by scratching gently at his scalp up from the back.
Then the food beeped and there was something of an electric shock as they jumped apart.
He had to chuckle when his guest grabbed the plate and fork and practically bounced back to the couch.
"C'mon! You're missing the part where the old dude kick's the bad guy's sensei's ass!" And the words weren't even garbled around the mouthful of cheesy burrito as it disappeared almost instantly.