Drabble - Spices
Title: Spices
Pairing: Steven Gerrard/Xabi Alonso
Rating: G/PG
Word Count: 550
Disclaimer: Say "fake". Yeah, that's it. (:
Summary: Cooking, spices, food. (:
Notes: Gaahhh.. It wasn't even supposed to be a S/X fic. Written for m0rnizstar's uhh.. Competition sort of thing. XD. Changed a little things here and there, and wheee, S/X fic. (:
Should there be anything wrong with the little Spanish dish facts, my sincere apologies. Mistakes made are mine. Comments would be nice, thank you. (:
---
It was not like him to whip up a feast on an ordinary day with no special occasions like this. But as you slip the key into the keyhole and turning it, enter the house, the strong fragrant scent of cinnamon and pepper overpowers you. Not being used to having that scent in your house, you sneeze uncontrollably for a few times, resulting in a difficulty in taking off your shoes.
He doesn’t come greet you like always. You sigh, he must be too busy cooking, you think. You move through the living room quietly. He stands by the stove, a small ribbon tied behind his back to press the front of the apron against his body, using a ladle to push and stir whatever in the pan.
You slip your arms around his waist; he jumps a little, before relaxing. You smile as you kiss him on the cheek. He giggles slightly. “Xabi, what made you feel like cooking today?” You asked him, watching as he skilfully tossed in another pinch of pepper. You sneeze as the pepper scent arises from the pan.
“Why did I cook?” He asked, a smile lingering on his lips. You let go of him as he turns to pour the contents of the pan into a small plate. “I cook because…” He began. “Because the smell from the neighbour’s cooking just made me feel like it.” He finished. You laugh at how adorable he phrased the sentence in his strong Spanish accent.
He reaches over the table to a small plate of nougats. “You want one?” He picks one off the plate and waves it at you. The smile not leaving your face, you take it from him, biting into the soft texture. In an instant, a burst of sweetness shoots down your throat and tongue. You think that he was out to sweeten you to death. You swallow with a little difficulty, and he laughs at the expression on your face.
“What did you put in there?” You ask, sipping from a cup of water he had brought you. “And why should I tell you that?” He replied. You look at the small white bar coated with crushed almonds. “But I can tell you that it’s called Turrón back in Spain. And that it is usually eaten for Christmas.”
“If it’s eaten in Christmas then why are we eating this now?” You ask as he takes a bite out of his nougat. “Because I just felt like making it, happy?” You shake your head. “Too sweet.” You say, it really was too sweet for you. You never had a connection with anything sweet since you were a little child. You remember how all the children at school used to go crazy at the sight or even the slightest mention of caramel and how you would just sit there quietly, not saying a word.
He pats you on the back. “Just bear with it.” He says with a smile. “Let’s eat.” He takes off the apron and places it back on the rack, then puts all the dirty kitchen tools into the sink. You sit at the head of the table and he settles on the chair beside you. He reaches across the table and scoops some food onto your plate. “Tuck in.” He says.
-Fin-
(: Again, Comments would be nice, thank you.
Pairing: Steven Gerrard/Xabi Alonso
Rating: G/PG
Word Count: 550
Disclaimer: Say "fake". Yeah, that's it. (:
Summary: Cooking, spices, food. (:
Notes: Gaahhh.. It wasn't even supposed to be a S/X fic. Written for m0rnizstar's uhh.. Competition sort of thing. XD. Changed a little things here and there, and wheee, S/X fic. (:
Should there be anything wrong with the little Spanish dish facts, my sincere apologies. Mistakes made are mine. Comments would be nice, thank you. (:
---
It was not like him to whip up a feast on an ordinary day with no special occasions like this. But as you slip the key into the keyhole and turning it, enter the house, the strong fragrant scent of cinnamon and pepper overpowers you. Not being used to having that scent in your house, you sneeze uncontrollably for a few times, resulting in a difficulty in taking off your shoes.
He doesn’t come greet you like always. You sigh, he must be too busy cooking, you think. You move through the living room quietly. He stands by the stove, a small ribbon tied behind his back to press the front of the apron against his body, using a ladle to push and stir whatever in the pan.
You slip your arms around his waist; he jumps a little, before relaxing. You smile as you kiss him on the cheek. He giggles slightly. “Xabi, what made you feel like cooking today?” You asked him, watching as he skilfully tossed in another pinch of pepper. You sneeze as the pepper scent arises from the pan.
“Why did I cook?” He asked, a smile lingering on his lips. You let go of him as he turns to pour the contents of the pan into a small plate. “I cook because…” He began. “Because the smell from the neighbour’s cooking just made me feel like it.” He finished. You laugh at how adorable he phrased the sentence in his strong Spanish accent.
He reaches over the table to a small plate of nougats. “You want one?” He picks one off the plate and waves it at you. The smile not leaving your face, you take it from him, biting into the soft texture. In an instant, a burst of sweetness shoots down your throat and tongue. You think that he was out to sweeten you to death. You swallow with a little difficulty, and he laughs at the expression on your face.
“What did you put in there?” You ask, sipping from a cup of water he had brought you. “And why should I tell you that?” He replied. You look at the small white bar coated with crushed almonds. “But I can tell you that it’s called Turrón back in Spain. And that it is usually eaten for Christmas.”
“If it’s eaten in Christmas then why are we eating this now?” You ask as he takes a bite out of his nougat. “Because I just felt like making it, happy?” You shake your head. “Too sweet.” You say, it really was too sweet for you. You never had a connection with anything sweet since you were a little child. You remember how all the children at school used to go crazy at the sight or even the slightest mention of caramel and how you would just sit there quietly, not saying a word.
He pats you on the back. “Just bear with it.” He says with a smile. “Let’s eat.” He takes off the apron and places it back on the rack, then puts all the dirty kitchen tools into the sink. You sit at the head of the table and he settles on the chair beside you. He reaches across the table and scoops some food onto your plate. “Tuck in.” He says.
-Fin-
(: Again, Comments would be nice, thank you.