MassuKei fic: Crash Course
Don't like/don't know, don't read. ^0^
Title: Crash Course
Characters: Masuda Takahisa || Kitagawa Keiko
Genre: General / Romance (is it..?)
Rating: G
Disclaimer: If these two were mine I would've been filthy rich. So no. Not mine. Sadly. D:
Notes: An attempt on writing fiction after... 3 years. Oh dear. x: Written for
enerirenie , you bully and
amaikoryori , who is also a bully. XD Un-beta-ed; beta-ed by destiny girl (yay!) though still not exactly the most creative product at 3am. XD
And I've written MassuKei even before ShiYu! This is sacrilege. D: I blame you, Renie! >_<;;; Give me my ShiYu. XD
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Ne, Keiko-chan, you forgot to dampen the wrap.”
Keiko looked up from her work, a spoon held on her right as her left held a small morsel delicately. “I did? Oh.” She immediately put down the spoon, careful not to look irritated, as she reached over to dip the tip of her forefinger into the small bowl with water.
He chuckled at her actions. “It’s okay to use more fingers, Keiko-chan. It’ll be easier to dampen the dough. And that’s water anyway.”
Keiko shot him a look - the nerve of that guy for even laughing at her expense! - before preventing herself from snapping back at Massu. “All right.” She retorted, her words gritted out, as she uncurled her middle finger and dipped the pads of her two fingers into the water container.
Stepping into the Masuda household’s kitchen had already made her break one of her current vows, which was to never try a hand at cooking (she’d tried, countless times before, but it always ended up a disaster). Her mother had taken measures not to let her into the kitchen for a reason, and now Takahisa was letting her cook with him. Willingly. Not to mention, he had finished everything up in a flourish while she… She started preparing for one dish the same time as he did yet until now she was not even halfway done.
Keiko knew that cooking was her waterloo, but her boyfr-no, her special friend (she cringed even at the words she used to pertain to a certain Johnny’s) had coaxed her into cooking not just for him, or for herself, but for his parents and his sister. That in itself was a crime in her book - the Masuda family didn’t need to suffer her terrible cooking - but Taka-kun had been most persuasive, pressing the right buttons to make her agree, and currently she was preparing a dish she’d never done before.
Now Massu was doing another thing she didn’t find quite her fancy - that is, correcting her at the littlest movements she made. If he was so conscious about doing things then frankly, he should be the one cooking and not her.
Takahisa knew that she had no skills in cooking whatsoever, but lately he had been quite an insistent little nuisance breathing down her back (literally and figuratively), urging her to do this and that, and as much as she did not want to be a brat about things, or worse, be called a killjoy in front of his friends and his family, Keiko knew in just a few more comments and chuckles from this chubby-faced NEWS vocalist she’d snap and walk away.
The pads of her fingers dabbed water on the dough, from one round end to another, before her palm closed around the half-done morsel and clamped it shut.
“Aah!” Massu reached out and pried her fingers away, intent on saving the half-done gyoza in her hand. When her fist opened, though, the dough was already torn and the meat and vegetable filling sticking to the other portions of the mangled dough. “Eeeh, Keiko-chan, I know you must’ve seen your mother making gyoza before-”
Keiko put her free hand down on the kitchen counter and sighed loudly. “Takahisa-kun. Remind me again, why am I making gyoza for tonight’s dinner? And no, that smile won’t work anymore.”
Massu was smiling, again, and the Mop Girl found it a little unfair how he found it so easy to smile while she was struggling through this Gyoza-making crash course in the Masuda Kitchen. Struggling, while he was sitting across her and instructing her to do this and that, when he was more capable of doing it; and well, he was the one who wanted to eat Gyoza and most definitely not her, he should take over!
His hand reached up to wipe some flour off her cheek, still smiling that effervescent grin. “Shall we try again, Keiko-chan?”
Something inside Keiko fluttered at his touch and she just knew it was a mistake letting him coerce her to try cooking again.
With a half-hearted cluck of her tongue, Keiko began to remove the tiny pieces of dough sticking on the meat filling before putting it back on the batter, her other hand busy on flattening balls of dough into thin sheets using an improvised mini-rolling pin. She concentrated on following Takahisa’s instructions, repeating them in her mind a couple of times after hearing it, if only to try and prove to him that even if she was a failure in the kitchen, at least she could follow instructions.
When she was done making pleats on the dough and sealing them Keiko glanced up from her handiwork, a hesitant smile returning Massu’s - he had been smiling all along, she knew that much, just from listening to his instructions.
Minutes later (and after a round of mental cursing) Keiko felt a little more accomplished, seeing a tray of raw treats sitting on the kitchen counter while Takahisa went around the kitchen setting up the pan that they’ll - correction, she - will be using. That smiling idiot was only there to supervise her actions and was not being helpful at all.
Another part of her mind couldn’t help but think that Massu had been most helpful, only not in the practical application department. Keiko automatically grinned at him when he called her attention - Kii-tan - and picked up the tray of gyozas before approaching the now warm stove.
“Now Kii-tan, you have to be very careful about putting the gyozas on the pan, since - No, Keiko, there’s no oil on the pan yet.”
Keiko rolled her eyes in exasperation, thinking to herself that she had the right to righteous indignation. “Taka-kun, I told you, I have no-”
Massu moved behind her - Keiko’s breath hitched -, one hand pouring just the right amount of oil on the pan while the other moved to place his hand over hers, which was holding the plastic saibashi, his body and scent surrounding her and Keiko couldn’t help but feel a little heady.
“Kii-tan?”
His voice brought her back to her senses, her face growing warmer by the minute. “Y-yes?” Well, it was warm in front of the stove to begin with!
A deep rumbling on her back as Massu chuckled yet again made her aware that he was indeed pressed close to her, and Keiko struggled to clear her mind. She watched her hand - their hands - pick up gyozas and place it on the now-warm and oiled pan, arranging it with equal gaps apart from each other, She was feeling a little detached, like she was watching everything transpire with her soul floating above the two of them.
Only when he pulled away from her and he let go of her hand did it sink in that she was, again, cooking gyoza. Not just cooking, but cooking them in the Masuda household. Cooking not just for herself, not just for Massu, but for the whole family, who were arriving for dinner in half an hour.
“Kii-tan, you need to put water in the pan and cover it-”
“I know, I know.” She snapped, the real Keiko now working up again into her demeanour. She reached for a cup in the dishwasher and put it under the faucet, filling it up before putting just the right amount of water to poach the gyozas until they were cooked.
Keiko kept in mind to ask Takahisa again, perhaps after the dinner, why she, of all people, had to be the one to cook the gyozas when he cooked almost everything else they were to serve at the dinner table. The question vanished in her mind when the Masudas came home and she was whisked by Takahisa into eating dinner with them.
Luckily her gyozas were (for all the hardship the poor dough and minced vegetables got from her begrudging actions) fairly decent, if not a little salty, which Mrs. Masuda and Takahisa’s sister liked anyway.
------
“Taka-kun? Didn’t you even feel a little scared that I might have made terrible gyozas?”
They were already sitting in the living room and Mrs. Masuda had just shooed her away from trying to help clean up after dinner, a cup of black tea each for both of them that Massu had just set on the kotatsu. When he didn’t answer, something ticked in her forehead. Perhaps, Keiko thought, I should’ve just placed more salt on the meat batter. Maybe if she had, this chubby-cheeked person here would still be trying to cough out all the salt he’d eaten, That’d change his mind about eating too much. And forcing me to cook, too. But she also thought that if it had happened, then most likely the family would have had the same problem, too. Keiko frowned. “And Ma-Taka-kun, why did you want me to cook? You know I’m no good in the kitchen.”
Massu laughed at the television show and at this, she looked at the television screen. The show wasn’t even funny at all. Was he pointedly ignoring her question?
Keiko’s eyes were set into a glare at nowhere in particular, finding it a little difficult to glare at a person who was not even the least bit interested in having a conversation with her; it would not have any effect if the intended person didn’t show any interest at her at all.
“Kaa-chan is asking if you’re free tomorrow afternoon.” Keiko’s eyebrows shot up as she looked at Takahisa who suddenly spoke, his fingers sliding in between hers easily, his eyes still glued on the television. There it was again, that smile, and had she been not so used to it since their high school days she would have thought it too bright. And it wasn’t even directed at her at the moment too.
The former Seventeen model sat up a little. “W-Well…” Her mind automatically began flipping pages of her virtual planner, thinking of her schedule of activities, before answering. “My photo shoot ends at three… Does she need my help or anything?”
“Three? Hmm. Okay, I’ll pick you up from the studio by then.” Massu answered, his other hand also checking up his mobile phone for his schedule before his attention reverted to the boob tube screen.
“What is it?” Keiko tried again, asking him a question, but it seemed his mind was immediately drawn to the television screen and whatever it was that was transpiring on it. She let go of Massu’s hand before crossing her arms in front of her, already contemplating on a good reason to decline Mrs. Masuda’s invitation, a pout unconsciously forming on her lips. “Fine. I’ll tell your mom I’m busy.”
Massu looked sideways at Keiko, seeing her lips jutting out slightly as she tried to move to get up and go to the kitchen. His arm shot up to pull her back down, chuckling at her antics. “She says she wants you to learn the family recipe for the dipping sauce, Kii-tan.”
Keiko stopped midway, hands falling on the table as she collected her thoughts and resumed her position beside him on the floor. “A-All right. Mou, you could’ve told me sooner and I wouldn’t have…” She trailed off, eyes meeting his twinkling ones as she realised just what his words meant.
“Kaa-chan wants to teach you the secret family recipe.” Massu reiterated, his eyebrows wiggling at her before he pressed a tender kiss on her knuckle and resumed watching the television show.
At his words, Keiko couldn’t help the fluttery feeling in her chest and the blush that suffused her cheeks. “Oh.”
--fin--
And now, I must hide. ^0^
Title: Crash Course
Characters: Masuda Takahisa || Kitagawa Keiko
Genre: General / Romance (is it..?)
Rating: G
Disclaimer: If these two were mine I would've been filthy rich. So no. Not mine. Sadly. D:
Notes: An attempt on writing fiction after... 3 years. Oh dear. x: Written for
enerirenie , you bully and
amaikoryori , who is also a bully. XD Un-beta-ed; beta-ed by destiny girl (yay!) though still not exactly the most creative product at 3am. XD
And I've written MassuKei even before ShiYu! This is sacrilege. D: I blame you, Renie! >_<;;; Give me my ShiYu. XD
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Ne, Keiko-chan, you forgot to dampen the wrap.”
Keiko looked up from her work, a spoon held on her right as her left held a small morsel delicately. “I did? Oh.” She immediately put down the spoon, careful not to look irritated, as she reached over to dip the tip of her forefinger into the small bowl with water.
He chuckled at her actions. “It’s okay to use more fingers, Keiko-chan. It’ll be easier to dampen the dough. And that’s water anyway.”
Keiko shot him a look - the nerve of that guy for even laughing at her expense! - before preventing herself from snapping back at Massu. “All right.” She retorted, her words gritted out, as she uncurled her middle finger and dipped the pads of her two fingers into the water container.
Stepping into the Masuda household’s kitchen had already made her break one of her current vows, which was to never try a hand at cooking (she’d tried, countless times before, but it always ended up a disaster). Her mother had taken measures not to let her into the kitchen for a reason, and now Takahisa was letting her cook with him. Willingly. Not to mention, he had finished everything up in a flourish while she… She started preparing for one dish the same time as he did yet until now she was not even halfway done.
Keiko knew that cooking was her waterloo, but her boyfr-no, her special friend (she cringed even at the words she used to pertain to a certain Johnny’s) had coaxed her into cooking not just for him, or for herself, but for his parents and his sister. That in itself was a crime in her book - the Masuda family didn’t need to suffer her terrible cooking - but Taka-kun had been most persuasive, pressing the right buttons to make her agree, and currently she was preparing a dish she’d never done before.
Now Massu was doing another thing she didn’t find quite her fancy - that is, correcting her at the littlest movements she made. If he was so conscious about doing things then frankly, he should be the one cooking and not her.
Takahisa knew that she had no skills in cooking whatsoever, but lately he had been quite an insistent little nuisance breathing down her back (literally and figuratively), urging her to do this and that, and as much as she did not want to be a brat about things, or worse, be called a killjoy in front of his friends and his family, Keiko knew in just a few more comments and chuckles from this chubby-faced NEWS vocalist she’d snap and walk away.
The pads of her fingers dabbed water on the dough, from one round end to another, before her palm closed around the half-done morsel and clamped it shut.
“Aah!” Massu reached out and pried her fingers away, intent on saving the half-done gyoza in her hand. When her fist opened, though, the dough was already torn and the meat and vegetable filling sticking to the other portions of the mangled dough. “Eeeh, Keiko-chan, I know you must’ve seen your mother making gyoza before-”
Keiko put her free hand down on the kitchen counter and sighed loudly. “Takahisa-kun. Remind me again, why am I making gyoza for tonight’s dinner? And no, that smile won’t work anymore.”
Massu was smiling, again, and the Mop Girl found it a little unfair how he found it so easy to smile while she was struggling through this Gyoza-making crash course in the Masuda Kitchen. Struggling, while he was sitting across her and instructing her to do this and that, when he was more capable of doing it; and well, he was the one who wanted to eat Gyoza and most definitely not her, he should take over!
His hand reached up to wipe some flour off her cheek, still smiling that effervescent grin. “Shall we try again, Keiko-chan?”
Something inside Keiko fluttered at his touch and she just knew it was a mistake letting him coerce her to try cooking again.
With a half-hearted cluck of her tongue, Keiko began to remove the tiny pieces of dough sticking on the meat filling before putting it back on the batter, her other hand busy on flattening balls of dough into thin sheets using an improvised mini-rolling pin. She concentrated on following Takahisa’s instructions, repeating them in her mind a couple of times after hearing it, if only to try and prove to him that even if she was a failure in the kitchen, at least she could follow instructions.
When she was done making pleats on the dough and sealing them Keiko glanced up from her handiwork, a hesitant smile returning Massu’s - he had been smiling all along, she knew that much, just from listening to his instructions.
Minutes later (and after a round of mental cursing) Keiko felt a little more accomplished, seeing a tray of raw treats sitting on the kitchen counter while Takahisa went around the kitchen setting up the pan that they’ll - correction, she - will be using. That smiling idiot was only there to supervise her actions and was not being helpful at all.
Another part of her mind couldn’t help but think that Massu had been most helpful, only not in the practical application department. Keiko automatically grinned at him when he called her attention - Kii-tan - and picked up the tray of gyozas before approaching the now warm stove.
“Now Kii-tan, you have to be very careful about putting the gyozas on the pan, since - No, Keiko, there’s no oil on the pan yet.”
Keiko rolled her eyes in exasperation, thinking to herself that she had the right to righteous indignation. “Taka-kun, I told you, I have no-”
Massu moved behind her - Keiko’s breath hitched -, one hand pouring just the right amount of oil on the pan while the other moved to place his hand over hers, which was holding the plastic saibashi, his body and scent surrounding her and Keiko couldn’t help but feel a little heady.
“Kii-tan?”
His voice brought her back to her senses, her face growing warmer by the minute. “Y-yes?” Well, it was warm in front of the stove to begin with!
A deep rumbling on her back as Massu chuckled yet again made her aware that he was indeed pressed close to her, and Keiko struggled to clear her mind. She watched her hand - their hands - pick up gyozas and place it on the now-warm and oiled pan, arranging it with equal gaps apart from each other, She was feeling a little detached, like she was watching everything transpire with her soul floating above the two of them.
Only when he pulled away from her and he let go of her hand did it sink in that she was, again, cooking gyoza. Not just cooking, but cooking them in the Masuda household. Cooking not just for herself, not just for Massu, but for the whole family, who were arriving for dinner in half an hour.
“Kii-tan, you need to put water in the pan and cover it-”
“I know, I know.” She snapped, the real Keiko now working up again into her demeanour. She reached for a cup in the dishwasher and put it under the faucet, filling it up before putting just the right amount of water to poach the gyozas until they were cooked.
Keiko kept in mind to ask Takahisa again, perhaps after the dinner, why she, of all people, had to be the one to cook the gyozas when he cooked almost everything else they were to serve at the dinner table. The question vanished in her mind when the Masudas came home and she was whisked by Takahisa into eating dinner with them.
Luckily her gyozas were (for all the hardship the poor dough and minced vegetables got from her begrudging actions) fairly decent, if not a little salty, which Mrs. Masuda and Takahisa’s sister liked anyway.
------
“Taka-kun? Didn’t you even feel a little scared that I might have made terrible gyozas?”
They were already sitting in the living room and Mrs. Masuda had just shooed her away from trying to help clean up after dinner, a cup of black tea each for both of them that Massu had just set on the kotatsu. When he didn’t answer, something ticked in her forehead. Perhaps, Keiko thought, I should’ve just placed more salt on the meat batter. Maybe if she had, this chubby-cheeked person here would still be trying to cough out all the salt he’d eaten, That’d change his mind about eating too much. And forcing me to cook, too. But she also thought that if it had happened, then most likely the family would have had the same problem, too. Keiko frowned. “And Ma-Taka-kun, why did you want me to cook? You know I’m no good in the kitchen.”
Massu laughed at the television show and at this, she looked at the television screen. The show wasn’t even funny at all. Was he pointedly ignoring her question?
Keiko’s eyes were set into a glare at nowhere in particular, finding it a little difficult to glare at a person who was not even the least bit interested in having a conversation with her; it would not have any effect if the intended person didn’t show any interest at her at all.
“Kaa-chan is asking if you’re free tomorrow afternoon.” Keiko’s eyebrows shot up as she looked at Takahisa who suddenly spoke, his fingers sliding in between hers easily, his eyes still glued on the television. There it was again, that smile, and had she been not so used to it since their high school days she would have thought it too bright. And it wasn’t even directed at her at the moment too.
The former Seventeen model sat up a little. “W-Well…” Her mind automatically began flipping pages of her virtual planner, thinking of her schedule of activities, before answering. “My photo shoot ends at three… Does she need my help or anything?”
“Three? Hmm. Okay, I’ll pick you up from the studio by then.” Massu answered, his other hand also checking up his mobile phone for his schedule before his attention reverted to the boob tube screen.
“What is it?” Keiko tried again, asking him a question, but it seemed his mind was immediately drawn to the television screen and whatever it was that was transpiring on it. She let go of Massu’s hand before crossing her arms in front of her, already contemplating on a good reason to decline Mrs. Masuda’s invitation, a pout unconsciously forming on her lips. “Fine. I’ll tell your mom I’m busy.”
Massu looked sideways at Keiko, seeing her lips jutting out slightly as she tried to move to get up and go to the kitchen. His arm shot up to pull her back down, chuckling at her antics. “She says she wants you to learn the family recipe for the dipping sauce, Kii-tan.”
Keiko stopped midway, hands falling on the table as she collected her thoughts and resumed her position beside him on the floor. “A-All right. Mou, you could’ve told me sooner and I wouldn’t have…” She trailed off, eyes meeting his twinkling ones as she realised just what his words meant.
“Kaa-chan wants to teach you the secret family recipe.” Massu reiterated, his eyebrows wiggling at her before he pressed a tender kiss on her knuckle and resumed watching the television show.
At his words, Keiko couldn’t help the fluttery feeling in her chest and the blush that suffused her cheeks. “Oh.”
--fin--
And now, I must hide. ^0^