A Lesson In Tact
Takamiya watches from the doorway as Izumi fumbles around the kitchen, spilling flour all over the counter and cracking eggshells in a way that Takamiya can only describe as unique (he notices a few swimming around in the mixing bowl, but they probably wonít hurt him too much unless they get lodged in his throat and choke him to death; he decides not to say anything).† Izumi never notices him lurking and spying and all of those things that he often accuses Takamiya of doing while heís in the shower, which is probably fortunate because with the way heís going at it with that electric mixer, Takamiya would really hate to see what would happen if he distracted Izumi in any way.
Two hours later (twenty-five minutes longer than the recipe indicates, but one glance at Izumiís dark expression and Takamiya decides not to say anything), the cake is done and sitting a little lopsidedly on the dining table.† They stare at it silently, Izumi holding a knife, Takamiya eyeing first the sagging center of the cake, then the knife in Izumiís hand, and then they both move forward at the same time; Izumi cuts out a large slice for Takamiya to try, and Takamiya tries it, chewing valiantly through the occasional crunch of egg shell and the salty chunks of butter that havenít been mixed in properly.
Izumi waits for a verdict with a faintly nervous look in his eyes, while Takamiya swallows, sees the knife still clutched in Izumiís hand, and says, ďItís pretty good, actually,Ē then wishes he didnít add the actually.† Izumi either doesnít notice or doesnít care, because he puts the knife down, walks over to Takamiya and kisses him on the lips, a shy tongue sneaking out to clean off the stray crumbs at the corner of his mouth.
ďHappy birthday,Ē Izumi says, before Takamiya drops the plate in his hand and tackles him to the floor.