[Sakusa's gifts tend to be simple and direct: air fresheners for homes that smell, trash bags for homes that have lots of trash, pocket hankies for everybody else. To have put so much effort and have it be warmly accepted (for once) makes his heart skip a beat. There's a brief smile of appreciation and excitement, offer out before he can think about it:] I can show you how to do that later.
[If he hadn't had a curl of attraction before, that would have certainly done it. Yet Sakusa composes himself. He's here for a purpose, after all. (He may or may not steal another glance at Ushijima's apron before moving to the kitchen, but it's all completely necessary.)
The kitchen is just as pristine as the living room, and Sakusa beelines for the sink to wash his hands before opening and closing various drawers and cabinets without warning. He grunts softly, some more fond than others, as he rifles through Ushijima's things, determined to know what kind of person Ushijima is by the state of his kitchen. Finding it well stocked and organized, Sakusa makes little fuss about following directions.
He'd spent hours memorizing different hayashi rice recipes since they'd texted about it, so he knows exactly what to pull out, even if Ushijima hadn't clustered the ingredients together in his fridge. Sakusa's process is both methodical and efficient, sorting ingredients by when they're called for and also by which ones need to be prepared and which only need to be measured. He slides all the ingredients that need to be washed to Ushijima.]
Wash these too. I need to grab my apron so I can help you prepare.
[Like Ushijima, Sakusa also has a cooking apron. It's different than his cleaning apron, naturally, but there is something a little special about this one. He silently leaves and returns within a minute, and takes to rummaging the cabinets for the small mixing bowls and measuring spoons, as though his kappougi trimmed with ruffles at the leaves and hem is perfectly normal.
He only interacts with Ushijima when it's time to prepare the meat, elbowing him away from the sink to wash his hands again before he opens the meat.]
no subject
[If he hadn't had a curl of attraction before, that would have certainly done it. Yet Sakusa composes himself. He's here for a purpose, after all. (He may or may not steal another glance at Ushijima's apron before moving to the kitchen, but it's all completely necessary.)
The kitchen is just as pristine as the living room, and Sakusa beelines for the sink to wash his hands before opening and closing various drawers and cabinets without warning. He grunts softly, some more fond than others, as he rifles through Ushijima's things, determined to know what kind of person Ushijima is by the state of his kitchen. Finding it well stocked and organized, Sakusa makes little fuss about following directions.
He'd spent hours memorizing different hayashi rice recipes since they'd texted about it, so he knows exactly what to pull out, even if Ushijima hadn't clustered the ingredients together in his fridge. Sakusa's process is both methodical and efficient, sorting ingredients by when they're called for and also by which ones need to be prepared and which only need to be measured. He slides all the ingredients that need to be washed to Ushijima.]
Wash these too. I need to grab my apron so I can help you prepare.
[Like Ushijima, Sakusa also has a cooking apron. It's different than his cleaning apron, naturally, but there is something a little special about this one. He silently leaves and returns within a minute, and takes to rummaging the cabinets for the small mixing bowls and measuring spoons, as though his kappougi trimmed with ruffles at the leaves and hem is perfectly normal.
He only interacts with Ushijima when it's time to prepare the meat, elbowing him away from the sink to wash his hands again before he opens the meat.]
Do you have a recipe in mind?