Lies
By:RoseWaters
The morning sun streaked through the kitchen with a new force. The cool of the night creeping away as the morning heat began to crawl along the streets.
It was a Monday. Maka loved Mondays.
Her eyes flashed towards the stove. She watched his every move. The way his shoulders would move up and down, silver spikes brushing against his ears. She always liked the way the morning light shaded the veins of his neck, she would watch his even breathing and wonder what it felt like to run her fingers down his neck the way the sun did.
She would watch him fumble, stumble over his inadequacy. His own short coming somehow endearing, he was awkward and out of place and she enjoyed watching him struggle. It was like a secret only she knew; a side no one else could see, something she owned. It was a rush to watch her own private show.
Green eyes flitted over his long figure bent over the stove, and she bit her lip. Her mind wondering what it felt like for his body to be bent over her with so much focus. She wondered how it would feel to remove that apron, to twist her fingers through the poorly crafted knot.
She enjoyed letting her mind wander as she watched his broad shoulders.
What she enjoyed the most was the muttered swears as the smell of burnt eggs crossed her nose. The way he would turn around with two plates of charcoal looking utterly embarrassed. Sit down across from her with a face that screamed 'Imma get this shit right next time'
And she'd take a cautious bit, force a smile and say with all convincing sincerity.
"It's great, thanks for breakfast Soul!"
And he'd give her a disbelieving look. Red eyes focused on her every gesture, before he'd concede and force down his own food.
"It will come out better on Wednesday."
She loved Wednesday too.
Because he knew it was a lie even as he said, and because she knew it was a lie to.
But she'd say it every other day and so would he.
She could make it herself, but she found it so damn hot when a man cooked.