Disclaimer: I don't own GA.

Chapter Seven: Dish

Some few days had passed since their first lunch together, and whilst their relationship status had not changed, something definitely had shifted between Natsume and Mikan. There was a charged, electric atmosphere between them that crackled and sizzled whenever they spoke or saw one another. More and more, they went for lunch together and whenever they had a meeting just between themselves, Natsume would often find excuses to extend them, to prolong his time with Mikan, to have her all to himself.

Natsume noticed the way Mikan now itched closer and closer to him whenever he showed her files or formats on his laptop: she would roll her chair over and lean over, sometimes even pressing a bit of herself against his arm. This particular interaction was particularly welcome to Natsume, for he enjoyed both her closeness and her sweet smell, and to experience them in one go seemed almost too indulgent for him. In response, Natsume usually poked her in the arm; she seemed to like that, for she would often giggle and look at him when he did so.

Yesterday, he had sent his very first GIF to her on their Teams chat, while they were sat at their desks. Mikan seemed to like that a lot, for she chortled out loud when she saw the black cat GIF he had sent her.

It was strange; whilst he was still working very hard, churning out results and producing good stuff, with Mikan around, work no longer felt like work. It was fun, it was exciting and inspiring—sometimes, as he'd walk home alone, he would just reflect back on his good day and feel grateful towards everything.

These days, he could not wait to get into work, to do good and to see Mikan. This morning was no different—on that Wednesday morning, he arrived earlier than he usually did, and he wished a good morning to everyone he passed.

When he reached their desk area, he saw that Narumi was already there, sitting at the head desk. Putting his bag down on his desk, Natsume called to him, wishing his manager a good morning.

Narumi looked up, "Ah! Natsume-kun, just the person I wanted to see." Narumi stood up from his chair, "Let's have a quick chat in the small meeting room."

Not knowing what to expect, Natsume did not say anything else and just followed his manager into the meeting room.

Narumi closed the door behind them, and motioned to the chair, non-verbally telling Natsume that he could take a seat. Natsume complied and sat and looked expectantly at his manager.

"I'm afraid I need to bring up your attitude towards Mikan-chan again, Natsume-kun,"

Natsume frowned, "What? I'm being nice!"

"Too nice!" Narumi cried, before he beseechingly remarked, "Natsume-kun, so many people have come to me to complain about your flirting! I don't want to embarrass you or Mikan-chan, so I thought it was best if I spoke to you about this before someone flagged this up to the HR manager—"

"It was Tono, wasn't it?" Natsume crossed his arms petulantly like a child, "He's jealous!"

Narumi did not even bother to deny Tono's role in this but added, "And many of your admirers! But at the end of the day, they are right—this is a workplace, not a place for you to come act cutesy-poo with Mikan-chan—"

Natsume looked highly affronted by Narumi's choice of word—

"—and honestly, Natsume-kun, I can't believe I'm saying this to you because it makes me feel like a high school teacher, telling off some rowdy teenager."

"You make me sound awful," Natsume grumbled.

Narumi continued, "Look, Natsume-kun—as your manager, I know that your productivity hasn't dropped or dipped. In fact, I would even go as to say that it's improved these past few weeks, with your improved mood, but to others on the fourteenth floor, I suppose it looks like you are prioritizing Mikan-chan over your work. And that's not entirely appropriate. We all need to project certain airs at work, right?"

Natsume's bristling pride wanted to retaliate but he kept all his counterattacks reigned in.

"I know that I'm the one who encouraged friendliness between you and Mikan-chan, but now I'm just asking you to keep it out the workplace, okay?"

Natsume grumbled incoherently in response.

"Right!" Narumi clapped his hands, and now, a more eager expression illuminated his face—his smile was wide and bright, and his eyes were earnest, "Now that I've done my bit as the responsible manager—ahh! Natsume-kun!" Narumi positively screeched like a fangirl at an idol concert, "Tell me everything! I'm so excited for you! To thinkthat Spring would finally bloom for you, Natsume-kun, and under my kind supervision too! Ahh! Tell me everything—dish bish!"

At this, Natsume stood up, ready to leave.

"Wait, Natsume-kuuuun!"

The next Thursday morning, Natsume woke up to find that he had a Teams message from Mikan. As he had the app on his phone, he saw it almost as soon as he awoke.

Good morning, Hyuuga-san! Please don't buy bento at the convenience store today.

This message made him positively giddy. He supposed that this was her way of asking him out for lunch, and he was more than ecstatic.

Despite Narumi's warning yesterday, nothing could spoil Natsume's mood now. He felt impervious to all negativity and cruelty. He had noticed that Mikan would often message him on Teams out of work hours these days—they had not shared phone numbers, so Teams was their main method of communication. Sometimes, she would talk about her flatmates, or what she was eating for dinner that day. Last Sunday, she asked after his weekend plans and told him that she was planning to go see a film.

Mikan had not said anything about her feelings towards him, and for the time being, Natsume was more than content with what they shared now. It felt almost too good to be true for him.

His routine of getting ready for work, making his way to work and reaching his desk, saying good morning to Mikan when she arrived seemed almost special now, like a blessing,

Today, she looked especially lovely, wearing that pink dress of hers that he liked so much.

He powered through the morning, and when the clock reached twelve, he closed his laptop and turned to look at her.

She noticed quickly, and looked back at him, "Um, five minutes?"

"Sure,"

By 12:05, everyone else had vacated their seats, off to eat lunch outside. It was only them left on the fourteenth floor.

Natsume saw Mikan moving in her seat. "Ready to go?"

"Um… no," now, he saw that Mikan was blushing furiously; she was just as pink as her dress, "I actually made you a bento today. I thought we could eat it here together."

He watched her pull out two bento boxes from a plastic bag under her desk—a pink box for her, a red box for him, with a matching chopstick set.

"I made it this morning," She looked up at him and met his gaze, "is that okay?"

Natsume felt so touched that he felt a wringing pain in his chest. Just looking at the red bento box made him want to clutch dramatically at his heart. Until then, he did not know that happiness could bring physical pain like this.

"That's more than okay," his voice came out soft and shy.

Mikan smiled at him and passed him the red box and his pair of chopsticks, "This one is yours. I hope you like it!"

Eagerly, like a child on Christmas morning, he popped open the lid. She had made him a large array of things: fried chicken, egg rolls, salad, a mini hamburg, rice and potato salad. Everything was aesthetically and carefully placed. For a second, he imagined her making this, and arranging the food in the bento box, and the thought of this made him want to embrace her tightly and tell her over and over again that she was too kind for her own good.

"It looks great," he said to her, "thank you, Mikan,"

"Let's eat!" she brightly replied, clearly happy with his response.

The food tasted as good as it looked; he made sure to say so to Mikan.

"I'm glad!"

They spoke lightly as they ate Mikan's homemade bento box.

Once she swallowed her own egg roll, she looked around the fourteenth floor and said, "It's so quiet. Is it always this quiet up here during lunch?"

Natsume shrugged, "I guess. Quieter, even, as it's usually just me."

"Hmm,"

"I like it though."

Mikan smiled fondly at him when he said that.

He smiled back at her.

"This is really good," he reiterated again, "I don't think I've had a homemade meal since I saw my parents during New Year's."

Mikan looked surprised to hear this, "That doesn't sound healthy,"

"I suppose not. I don't usually eat a balanced diet," but I take supplements…

"Don't you ever cook?"

Natsume shook his head, "I'm not good at cooking. I don't enjoy cooking either."

"You're like my flatmates. They don't like cooking either. Personally, I love it! It's so relaxing,"

"That's nice,"

Without looking at him, focusing rather intently on rice, Mikan then slowly suggested, "Maybe… maybe I could come cook for you sometime," before she glanced up at him.

His imagination burst at her words. Mikan in his flat; Mikan in his kitchen; Mikan in an apron; Mikan Sakura in his flat!

His throat felt very dry in that moment. He had to clear his throat, before he managed to string a reply together, "Yeah, uh, I'd like that,"

He tried to act and sound as casual as he possibly could. But even then, his voice came out rather strained, doing its best not to sound too eager at her suggestion.

"What about this Saturday then?" Mikan proposed, before she pressed her lips together, looking at him expectantly with large, examining eyes, as if she were trying to read his expressions and pick his mind apart.

"Yeah, that'd be great,"

She smiled brightly at him, clearly pleased by this turn of events. "Can I have your phone number? I don't want to keep pestering you on Teams,"

"Of course,"

Today was a special Thursday. Natsume had eaten Mikan's homemade food, made plans to see her on the weekend at his flat and he had finally obtained her personal phone number. That evening, he rushed home, suddenly aware that in two days' time his crush would be visiting.

When he arrived home, the first thing he did was swear. Aoi had been right—the state of his room was indeed awful, and totally unfit for Mikan.

"Fuck, shit…" he muttered, as he made his way across to the window. Forcefully, he pulled back to the curtains and opened the windows. He did not care that it was the evening; he needed to air this place out as it did smell like stale cigarettes.

He had managed to quit chain-smoking a few weeks ago; granted, he might have that one cheeky cigarette before bed, but as he started to religiously clean his flat that evening, he vowed that he would never smoke in his flat again. Everywhere he turned, he found another loaded ashtray, drowning in ash and butts.

For a moment, he considered calling Aoi for help, but decided against this. He would rather shoot then bury himself than call his little sister and ask her to help him get his flat ready for a girl. His mind now turned to Luca—as he fumbled around the utility closet, in search for the hoover, he pressed his phone between his shoulder and ear—

"Hey, Natsume,"

"Luca, hey, I need your help."

"What's up?"

"I need to borrow all your kitchenware this Saturday. Pots, pans, spatulas—the whole lot. And do you have a mop? If you have a mop, can I borrow that too?"

"… What the hell?"

A/N: Woo! I banged this one out pretty quickly. Hope you enjoyed it!