[Despite the kitchen's relatively small and cramped space with just one long-limbed athlete moving within, let alone two, Wakatoshi's able to easily maneuver his way around it without bumping into Sakusa or any of the cabinets. It's natural, like they've been doing this for years.
On his third cold-water rinse of the rice, he nods with affirmation toward Sakusa. And once the rice water runs clear -- and only then -- does he move on to washing the mushrooms and onions. Vigorously. After his parents' divorce, his grandmother was often around the home to help out, and he remembers distinctly how she'd bring in vegetables from the garden and how she'd wash them in the sink, meticulously, for what seemed like an eternity. The people that eat your food will be able to taste the love and care you put into it, so make sure to do it properly, Wakatoshi.
So here he is, washing root vegetables and making sure the bits of dirt and whatever else are cleaned off.
He's squeezing a lemon, bare-handed and with only minimal effort, into a bowl intended for the beef when Sakusa returns donning an apron. For some reason, he presumed Sakusa's own apron would be a simple and utilitarian one like his. The ruffles and, oh, everything else are completely unexpected. And before he realizes it, he's squeezed every bit of juice and seed out of the poor lemon.]
no subject
On his third cold-water rinse of the rice, he nods with affirmation toward Sakusa. And once the rice water runs clear -- and only then -- does he move on to washing the mushrooms and onions. Vigorously. After his parents' divorce, his grandmother was often around the home to help out, and he remembers distinctly how she'd bring in vegetables from the garden and how she'd wash them in the sink, meticulously, for what seemed like an eternity. The people that eat your food will be able to taste the love and care you put into it, so make sure to do it properly, Wakatoshi.
So here he is, washing root vegetables and making sure the bits of dirt and whatever else are cleaned off.
He's squeezing a lemon, bare-handed and with only minimal effort, into a bowl intended for the beef when Sakusa returns donning an apron. For some reason, he presumed Sakusa's own apron would be a simple and utilitarian one like his. The ruffles and, oh, everything else are completely unexpected. And before he realizes it, he's squeezed every bit of juice and seed out of the poor lemon.]
...
...yes.
[That's all he can manage right now.]