Title: 47. Bitterness doesn't stand a chance
with those two.
Pairing/Character/s: Yuki/Machi
Word Count: 341 words
Summary: Yuki and Machi attempt to cook.
A/N: I mean, the first line suddenly popped into my head and... I thought this would be funny. Soba is a thin noodle made from buckwheat.
"Is it even edible?" The dish before Yuki is a solid mass of soy sauce chicken drumsticks. Or maybe a mountain of baked beans. It could even be plastic; he's not sure.
"Don't poke it!" Machi throws a glare at him, quickly rinsing the plates.
"Well, then, where are the chopsticks?"
"Here. Can you wash them?"
"Sure.... Machi, what was this again?"
"Soy sauce chicken. We cooked this together, Yuki."
He sneaks a peek at the open cookbook on the kitchen counter. The glossy pages are splattered with soy sauce and oil. "It really does not look like the picture." The cookbook has a picture of eight perfect drumsticks, and yet a mound of brown mush is sitting on his table.
"Maybe it tastes good," Machi rebuffs, putting down the plates and picking up a drumstick. At least, she tries to pick it up. It's stuck in the pool of soy sauce. "Is this plastic?!"
Yuki tries his hardest to not laugh. After some twisting, she finally manages to free a drumstick. Yuki hands her a pair of chopsticks, watching his girlfriend wrinkle her nose in distaste. "Should we order out?"
Machi takes a tiny bite, chewing slowly as she passes the drumstick to Yuki.
"How is it, Machi?"
"...It's not bad. A little spicy, which is weird." The meat is so tough she's still chewing as Yuki takes a bite.
"Oh, I'm surprised. It tastes fine. A little tough, though."
She smiles, attempting to free another drumstick. "I'm so glad we tried this."
"Who would believe that we can cook-" Suddenly his mouth is overwhelmed by a bitter, rotten taste. The grimace on Machi's face tells him she tastes it too. They both spit out their mouthful at the same time and start guzzling water down like no tomorrow.
"What was that?"
"I don't know, but you know what this means." They're both too busy scraping the taste off their tongues with a napkin to sigh in defeat.
"I'll call the soba place."
"And we never speak of this again."