Precision-Patience-Passion (1/6)
Title: Precision-Patience-Passion
Pairing: Sakurai Sho/Matsumoto Jun
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,018 words for this chapter (27,917 words for the whole fic)
Summary: “As I was saying, cooking is one of the most elaborate forms of art and requires what I’d like to call the three Ps: precision, patience and passion. It’s… What NOW?” - Jun knows he is one of the best cooking instructors you can get, but his new class confronts him with unexpected challenges...
Disclaimer: No money was made with this work of fiction. The only thing belonging to us is the plot bunny. No copyright infringement intended.
Una festa sui prati,
una bella compagnia,
panini, vino, un sacco di risate,
e luminosi sguardi di ragazze innamorate…
Utensils, appliances, ingredients. Music. Everything was set, Jun noted with a satisfied smile. He had made sure the kitchen was squeaky clean and there was already an inviting smell of fresh herbs and sun-ripened fruit and vegetables in the air, just waiting for his new students to be introduced to the luscious culinary experience that was Italian cuisine.
It was a beautiful summer’s day and the rays of the sun were lighting up the room full of light woods and good memories. Jun was 29 and had been teaching all different kinds of culinary classes to all different kinds of people for the better part of five years now. He loved his job because he loved cooking, and he loved teaching the precision and skills necessary to create that bit of magic that was a good meal.
Walking around the room one last time to check each of the students’ kitchen units, he scratched off a small water stain here and adjusted the position of some pots and pans there. Then he went back to the front and got out a clean white apron and chef’s hat.
He was ready for class.
Jun straightened up as the doors opened, smile ready to greet his new students as they entered the kitchen and found their places behind polished counters.
All men, all five of them, and Jun had the nagging feeling, that this would be one of the ‘I’ll-cook-her-dinner-to-get-into-her-pants’ kind of classes, but he wouldn’t allow this to spoil his enthusiasm. Whatever their initial intention might be, he sure would enlighten them with the joy of cooking so it became so much more. They were in for quite the speech he had practiced and perfected down to the very last word - so yeah, he even had some tissues ready, just in case.
“Good evening everyone. What is pasta without pesto? What is a steak without the right finish. What is risotto without the right dose of exquisite cheese? I’m Matsumoto Jun and I will be teaching you the joy of cooking delicious Italian culinary delights for the next few weeks…”
Somewhere, he could hear stifled laughter. He couldn’t quite pinpoint where this was coming from, but he was pretty sure that it was the tiny guy with raven black hair and a mischievous look on his face. But no. No, he wouldn’t let him spoil his speech.
“…will teach you the arts of blending exquisite ingredients to-EXCUSE ME?”
Said guy was now laughing out loud, even holding his stomach.
Jun didn’t like him already. But he would be nice to him; he would be polite and stoic and show the chickenshit asshole just why he was the best damn instructor this school had and why the guy should be grateful to be taught by him! Sure, of course, people did pay a lot of money for the lessons that brought food to Jun’s own little table in his own tiny apartment, but that didn’t give them any right to disturb either his speech or his class. He was the boss in here and these new students better learn that lesson fast!
“Excuse me, but what’s your name?”
“Ninomiya Kazunari.” The guy didn’t even turn to face him.
Voice clipped and arms folded, Jun inquired, “So, Ninomiya-san, would you please tell us what’s so damn funny?”
“Oh, you wouldn’t like my answer,” that stupid asshole chuckled, wiping away one or two tears.
“For crying out loud, will you just lock it? That’s just rude,” hissed his neighbour and Jun could see him poking this impossible person in the side.
“And you would be?” Jun was already losing his patience - this was so not how he had envisioned his first day with the new class. Usually, people looked up to him with respect, often clinging to every little word he said. So this was new, unexpected and absolutely not welcome at all.
“Sakurai Sho. And I’m really sorry for the… interruption.” He looked the part - his face was flushed, ears burning red and Jun couldn’t quite tell if that was due to embarrassment or anger. Maybe a mixture of both.
Jun just gave him a curt nod that the apology was accepted and a tight smile. Then, with a sigh, he tried to find the point in his speech again at which he had been interrupted so rudely. “As I was saying, cooking is one of the most elaborate forms of art and requires what I’d like to call the three Ps: precision, patience and passion. It’s… What NOW?”
The guy behind Ninomiya was laughing now, a boisterous laugh that could have been infectious in any other situation. Here, now, it just made Jun want to scrape his manicured nails across the blackboard in front.
“My name’s Ikuta Toma and I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t hold it in. Nino’s too funny. Please don’t take it personal.”
Oh, two on his list already: Ninomiya and Ikuta. And maybe Sakurai, for just knowing these idiots. How was he supposed to teach a class here if his students didn’t show him any respect?
“Is there anyone who’d like to add something before we can finally return to class? I’m assuming that you all are here to learn the arts of cooking… NINOMIYA-san, seriously. If you can’t hold your laughter, I’ll have to ask you to leave the room until you calm down.” It was getting increasingly difficult to remain calm. Forget about that blackboard, he’d scratch his nails across these assholes’ faces.
One of his students, a smaller, rather thin guy with light hair, raised his hands and Jun sighed in relief. “Yes?”
“Ohno Satoshi… what was the third P again?”
Was this Ohno serious? Jun didn’t trust the situation any more. Not after the first two interruptions. So the smile he was giving Ohno was a bit forced. “Passion.”
It did give him an idea, though. He would make it clear what kind of tight regimen he expected in his kitchen. “And why isn’t anybody apart from Ohno-san noting that down? Take out your notepads and pens NOW. There’s a lot of theory to learn by heart before I let any of you so much as touch the food you’ll be preparing… Yes?”
Oh yeah, there was one more guy, a tall lanky fellow, who was now eagerly raising his hand. “I didn’t bring any pens or notes. Is it okay if I just type that stuff up on my phone?”
“No,” Jun shook his head pointedly. “So can anyone please lend…” He looked expectantly to the guy.
“Aiba Masaki,” the other man smiled.
“Can anyone lend Aiba-san some paper and a pen, please, so we can start. You all paid for lessons, after all, not for Ninomiya-san to entertain you with jokes, and I don’t care how funny they might be.”
~*~
“I hate my life!” he screamed as he slammed the door shut behind him. “You heard me? I HATE my life. Or at least my class…”
The satisfaction he had felt when everybody had been scribbling down notes on his instructions had been short-lived but that brat Ninomiya’s annoying laughter still stuck. He could still hear the dwarf’s snorts interrupting his speech and felt his temper rising.
“You what?” Shun’s head popped from his room, hair a mess. He must have been sleeping, again. How his friend came up with his share of their rent was beyond Jun, especially as he was an even bigger expert on spending his cash on expensive things - or women. But Jun couldn’t hope for a better roommate. They had known each other since kindergarten and had grown up together. Jun knew he could always count on Shun, no matter what, and so it was only natural that they were sharing a small apartment in this insanely expensive city called Tokyo.
“I said I hate my life, my class and… and we’re going out. I need a drink,” he declared.
Jun didn’t wait for an answer. He heard the mumbled, “Oh, all right,” and could visualize the easygoing shrug that went with it all the same while he was busy kicking off his shoes and stomping to his room to get changed.
It was a real shame he couldn’t wear his rings and accessories when teaching, but after a bracelet had ended up in a student’s soufflé in his first year, he preferred to leave all of that stuff at home. It was better to compartmentalize anyway, to strictly separate his private life from his time at work. Going into full teaching mode was a lot easier when people didn’t know what exactly he was about.
When he was out and about in private, though, he liked the bit of pizzazz he put into his cooking to also show in his appearance. He liked a small accent here and a carefully matched accessory there.
“You ready?” Without a knock to warn him, there was suddenly Shun leaning against his half-open door. Other than his roommate, no one would be tolerated to do so. But it wasn’t since yesterday that they had known each other.
Sometimes Jun wondered how the two of them got along so well - Oguri Shun was bulky and good-looking in a rather rugged way, his easygoing demeanor making people trust him instantly. He didn’t seem to care what he was wearing as long as it was comfortable, and always looked enviably good in it. He was a jack of all trades and master of none, a bon vivant, and loved to spend his money on expensive equipment, gifts for women and alcohol.
Jun on the other hand rarely allowed himself to relax, always worried about what kind of impression other people had of him. He was short-sighted but would only wear his thick glasses at home. He could easily spend an hour in the bathroom in the morning, just as easily as he could spend several hours cooking the perfect meal. Matsumoto Jun was a perfectionist in all areas of his life and it showed.
“What, now? I just arrived and…” Jun started only to be interrupted by his friend.
“Matsumoto, seriously, I’m not gonna wait for you to go through one of your bathroom sessions. It takes ages, I get tired up to the point where I just wanna sleep - besides, no one notices whether or not your hair is the very right kind of disheveled or just the right kind whatnot. We either go now or I go on my own and leave you alone in your misery. Your choice.”
He could tell from experience that Shun meant business. The apartment would be empty if he dared to hit the shower first and then turn to his products.
“Ten minutes? Deal? Allow me to at least wash my face, okay?”
“You’ve got five and I’ll set the timer. Starting now.” With that Shun vanished, probably searching their refrigerator for a beer to pass the time. He had better hurry. Sometimes, he wished he were straight, it would save him quite some time.
~*~
In the end, it took Jun seven minutes, but Shun declared he was in a generous mood when he was still deeply engrossed in exchanging mails on his phone, probably with his flame of the day.
When they arrived at their usual bar, it was out of sheer luck that they got a table. It was packed and the waitresses already looked a little stressed out. It was whiskey, straight up, and a bowl of nuts for Shun, and a dry martini for Jun.
“So, why do you hate your class?” his roommate didn’t miss a single beat, even when his eyes were already elsewhere.
“There’s this guy…”
“Cute one?” Shun interrupted, mouth half full with nuts before he washed them down with a large sip of whiskey.
“What? NO! Well, there is, but that’s not what I’m talking about. It’s not all about sex.” Irritation was surfacing again, spreading in a frown on Jun’s forehead.
“I read an article that gay men think about sex seven times more often than straight men.”
“Do you want to hear my story or not?” Oh, he didn’t have the patience for this. Not today, not after being laughed at by basically every single student. He had already started tapping his fingers against the table in agitation, buzzing with nerves.
“Sorry. There’s this guy, not the cute one. Please go on.” In favour of his report, Jun decided to ignore Shun’s amused expression and continued his story.
“Well, like I just said, there’s this guy who constantly laughs at me. Like, in my face. He’s not even hiding it and all the others join in. Almost all of them. Remember my speech?”
“The one about the three Ps?” Shun asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Yeah, that one. I couldn’t even finish it.” He raised his hands in exasperation because, well, this already told just about everything. No further explanation needed.
Shun had the nerve - the nerve! - to stifle a small laugh of his own.
“What?!” Jun took a swig of his drink and raised a suspicious eyebrow at his roommate.
“Oh come on,” Shun sighed exasperatedly, “You can’t seriously expect them to be over the moon about your philosophy lessons. Yes, I get it, you love cooking, cooking’s your life, and yes, it’s something very important. We all need to eat. I get all that.” He held up a hand that he wasn’t finished. “But those guys don’t. They just want to learn how not to make burnt toast and instant cup noodles. And they do cough up a shitload of money for it.”
“But that’s what I mean. They pay a lot so they should get the best possible teaching,” Jun scowled, irritated.
“They probably expected less pathos and more cooking. I’m sure you won’t be laughed at when you teach them how to make fresh pasta instead of talking of divine cooking, passion and whatnot. Even I have a hard time not laughing and I’m your friend AND am used to your big speeches when it comes to cooking. They’ll find out what a great cook AND teacher you are. Otherwise you wouldn’t have landed that job at that posh school, ne?”
Jun hated to admit that Shun was probably right. He was a damn good cook, after all, and a creative one to boot. Maybe they had just had a rough start and he would win the class over next week. Fuck, maybe, he would do that. “You should’ve told me yesterday…”
“I did, remember? Right before you called me an ignorant bastard…”
Jun had the decency to look guilty. He had called him that, hadn’t he? So he gave his friend an apologetic look, which the other just waved off with a laugh.
“No hard feelings, no offense taken. I’ve known you for a while now, remember? And I am an ignorant bastard when it comes to cooking - that’s why it’s YOUR responsibility. Just imagine I was your student.” Shun took another swig of his whiskey, before he looked downright mischievous; Jun didn’t like that look one bit. “So, about that cute guy in your class…?”
“Well, he’s a student, so I didn’t pay too much attention to his looks. It would be unprofessional,” Jun lied. He HAD paid attention, it was pretty hard not to. Sakurai had nice hands, the first thing Jun had noticed about him.
Or the second, rather; the first had been his bad judgement when it came to friends. Someone buddying up with that Ninomiya guy couldn’t be in his right mind. But yeah, nice hands, kind face, took care of himself. Nice but… Jun had only accidentally noticed when he had watched them leave. No common sense when it came to fashion. But really beautiful eyes and gorgeous lips and…
“I’ve known you since you were three and I so know when you’re lying. Or daydreaming - and you’re doing both right now.” Shun’s laughter cut through his thoughts.
Jun could feel himself blush. Was he that obvious? Still, he tried to shoot a death glare at his friend. “I’m not.” It wasn’t his fault the guy was occupying his mind like that when he barely knew him. And, truthfully, he didn’t know if he wanted to be acquainted with someone who was friends with a bratty bastard like Ninomiya.
“Are too. And we both know it so stop making up excuses not to tell me. Hell, it’s been forever since you last got laid. I’m just trying to look out for you, man.” And with a wink and a smile, Shun turned to order another round of drinks for them.
Jun sighed. Shun’s definition of ‘forever’ was only a few months. Half a year, tops. So he had been busy with classes and new recipes and… stuff. And since when was it any of his friend’s business who he was having sex with and when? “Am not,” he grated, just to make a point, before he emptied his first glass to take his second from the waitress Shun was currently having eye-sex with. “Besides, there’s nothing wrong with being picky. So please forgive me for not jumping everyone I deem attractive. I do have my standards and… would you two like to get a room? Just tell me if I’m disturbing something here.”
Gee, this was supposed to be the two of them, Shun listening to his horrible day and then telling him that he was right, that Ninomiya was the devil and that he had every right to be pissed off. Maybe come up with a piece of advice or two. But Jun could tell that his friend was already gone, if not physically then mentally. Great, just great. He so wasn’t in the mood to hear Shun fuck a random chick all night long. “At least get a love hotel. I have to get some sleep tonight.”
“Matsumoto, you’re the best. You can take a cab, right?”
to be continued in part 2
Pairing: Sakurai Sho/Matsumoto Jun
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,018 words for this chapter (27,917 words for the whole fic)
Summary: “As I was saying, cooking is one of the most elaborate forms of art and requires what I’d like to call the three Ps: precision, patience and passion. It’s… What NOW?” - Jun knows he is one of the best cooking instructors you can get, but his new class confronts him with unexpected challenges...
Disclaimer: No money was made with this work of fiction. The only thing belonging to us is the plot bunny. No copyright infringement intended.
Una festa sui prati,
una bella compagnia,
panini, vino, un sacco di risate,
e luminosi sguardi di ragazze innamorate…
Utensils, appliances, ingredients. Music. Everything was set, Jun noted with a satisfied smile. He had made sure the kitchen was squeaky clean and there was already an inviting smell of fresh herbs and sun-ripened fruit and vegetables in the air, just waiting for his new students to be introduced to the luscious culinary experience that was Italian cuisine.
It was a beautiful summer’s day and the rays of the sun were lighting up the room full of light woods and good memories. Jun was 29 and had been teaching all different kinds of culinary classes to all different kinds of people for the better part of five years now. He loved his job because he loved cooking, and he loved teaching the precision and skills necessary to create that bit of magic that was a good meal.
Walking around the room one last time to check each of the students’ kitchen units, he scratched off a small water stain here and adjusted the position of some pots and pans there. Then he went back to the front and got out a clean white apron and chef’s hat.
He was ready for class.
Jun straightened up as the doors opened, smile ready to greet his new students as they entered the kitchen and found their places behind polished counters.
All men, all five of them, and Jun had the nagging feeling, that this would be one of the ‘I’ll-cook-her-dinner-to-get-into-her-pants’ kind of classes, but he wouldn’t allow this to spoil his enthusiasm. Whatever their initial intention might be, he sure would enlighten them with the joy of cooking so it became so much more. They were in for quite the speech he had practiced and perfected down to the very last word - so yeah, he even had some tissues ready, just in case.
“Good evening everyone. What is pasta without pesto? What is a steak without the right finish. What is risotto without the right dose of exquisite cheese? I’m Matsumoto Jun and I will be teaching you the joy of cooking delicious Italian culinary delights for the next few weeks…”
Somewhere, he could hear stifled laughter. He couldn’t quite pinpoint where this was coming from, but he was pretty sure that it was the tiny guy with raven black hair and a mischievous look on his face. But no. No, he wouldn’t let him spoil his speech.
“…will teach you the arts of blending exquisite ingredients to-EXCUSE ME?”
Said guy was now laughing out loud, even holding his stomach.
Jun didn’t like him already. But he would be nice to him; he would be polite and stoic and show the chickenshit asshole just why he was the best damn instructor this school had and why the guy should be grateful to be taught by him! Sure, of course, people did pay a lot of money for the lessons that brought food to Jun’s own little table in his own tiny apartment, but that didn’t give them any right to disturb either his speech or his class. He was the boss in here and these new students better learn that lesson fast!
“Excuse me, but what’s your name?”
“Ninomiya Kazunari.” The guy didn’t even turn to face him.
Voice clipped and arms folded, Jun inquired, “So, Ninomiya-san, would you please tell us what’s so damn funny?”
“Oh, you wouldn’t like my answer,” that stupid asshole chuckled, wiping away one or two tears.
“For crying out loud, will you just lock it? That’s just rude,” hissed his neighbour and Jun could see him poking this impossible person in the side.
“And you would be?” Jun was already losing his patience - this was so not how he had envisioned his first day with the new class. Usually, people looked up to him with respect, often clinging to every little word he said. So this was new, unexpected and absolutely not welcome at all.
“Sakurai Sho. And I’m really sorry for the… interruption.” He looked the part - his face was flushed, ears burning red and Jun couldn’t quite tell if that was due to embarrassment or anger. Maybe a mixture of both.
Jun just gave him a curt nod that the apology was accepted and a tight smile. Then, with a sigh, he tried to find the point in his speech again at which he had been interrupted so rudely. “As I was saying, cooking is one of the most elaborate forms of art and requires what I’d like to call the three Ps: precision, patience and passion. It’s… What NOW?”
The guy behind Ninomiya was laughing now, a boisterous laugh that could have been infectious in any other situation. Here, now, it just made Jun want to scrape his manicured nails across the blackboard in front.
“My name’s Ikuta Toma and I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t hold it in. Nino’s too funny. Please don’t take it personal.”
Oh, two on his list already: Ninomiya and Ikuta. And maybe Sakurai, for just knowing these idiots. How was he supposed to teach a class here if his students didn’t show him any respect?
“Is there anyone who’d like to add something before we can finally return to class? I’m assuming that you all are here to learn the arts of cooking… NINOMIYA-san, seriously. If you can’t hold your laughter, I’ll have to ask you to leave the room until you calm down.” It was getting increasingly difficult to remain calm. Forget about that blackboard, he’d scratch his nails across these assholes’ faces.
One of his students, a smaller, rather thin guy with light hair, raised his hands and Jun sighed in relief. “Yes?”
“Ohno Satoshi… what was the third P again?”
Was this Ohno serious? Jun didn’t trust the situation any more. Not after the first two interruptions. So the smile he was giving Ohno was a bit forced. “Passion.”
It did give him an idea, though. He would make it clear what kind of tight regimen he expected in his kitchen. “And why isn’t anybody apart from Ohno-san noting that down? Take out your notepads and pens NOW. There’s a lot of theory to learn by heart before I let any of you so much as touch the food you’ll be preparing… Yes?”
Oh yeah, there was one more guy, a tall lanky fellow, who was now eagerly raising his hand. “I didn’t bring any pens or notes. Is it okay if I just type that stuff up on my phone?”
“No,” Jun shook his head pointedly. “So can anyone please lend…” He looked expectantly to the guy.
“Aiba Masaki,” the other man smiled.
“Can anyone lend Aiba-san some paper and a pen, please, so we can start. You all paid for lessons, after all, not for Ninomiya-san to entertain you with jokes, and I don’t care how funny they might be.”
~*~
“I hate my life!” he screamed as he slammed the door shut behind him. “You heard me? I HATE my life. Or at least my class…”
The satisfaction he had felt when everybody had been scribbling down notes on his instructions had been short-lived but that brat Ninomiya’s annoying laughter still stuck. He could still hear the dwarf’s snorts interrupting his speech and felt his temper rising.
“You what?” Shun’s head popped from his room, hair a mess. He must have been sleeping, again. How his friend came up with his share of their rent was beyond Jun, especially as he was an even bigger expert on spending his cash on expensive things - or women. But Jun couldn’t hope for a better roommate. They had known each other since kindergarten and had grown up together. Jun knew he could always count on Shun, no matter what, and so it was only natural that they were sharing a small apartment in this insanely expensive city called Tokyo.
“I said I hate my life, my class and… and we’re going out. I need a drink,” he declared.
Jun didn’t wait for an answer. He heard the mumbled, “Oh, all right,” and could visualize the easygoing shrug that went with it all the same while he was busy kicking off his shoes and stomping to his room to get changed.
It was a real shame he couldn’t wear his rings and accessories when teaching, but after a bracelet had ended up in a student’s soufflé in his first year, he preferred to leave all of that stuff at home. It was better to compartmentalize anyway, to strictly separate his private life from his time at work. Going into full teaching mode was a lot easier when people didn’t know what exactly he was about.
When he was out and about in private, though, he liked the bit of pizzazz he put into his cooking to also show in his appearance. He liked a small accent here and a carefully matched accessory there.
“You ready?” Without a knock to warn him, there was suddenly Shun leaning against his half-open door. Other than his roommate, no one would be tolerated to do so. But it wasn’t since yesterday that they had known each other.
Sometimes Jun wondered how the two of them got along so well - Oguri Shun was bulky and good-looking in a rather rugged way, his easygoing demeanor making people trust him instantly. He didn’t seem to care what he was wearing as long as it was comfortable, and always looked enviably good in it. He was a jack of all trades and master of none, a bon vivant, and loved to spend his money on expensive equipment, gifts for women and alcohol.
Jun on the other hand rarely allowed himself to relax, always worried about what kind of impression other people had of him. He was short-sighted but would only wear his thick glasses at home. He could easily spend an hour in the bathroom in the morning, just as easily as he could spend several hours cooking the perfect meal. Matsumoto Jun was a perfectionist in all areas of his life and it showed.
“What, now? I just arrived and…” Jun started only to be interrupted by his friend.
“Matsumoto, seriously, I’m not gonna wait for you to go through one of your bathroom sessions. It takes ages, I get tired up to the point where I just wanna sleep - besides, no one notices whether or not your hair is the very right kind of disheveled or just the right kind whatnot. We either go now or I go on my own and leave you alone in your misery. Your choice.”
He could tell from experience that Shun meant business. The apartment would be empty if he dared to hit the shower first and then turn to his products.
“Ten minutes? Deal? Allow me to at least wash my face, okay?”
“You’ve got five and I’ll set the timer. Starting now.” With that Shun vanished, probably searching their refrigerator for a beer to pass the time. He had better hurry. Sometimes, he wished he were straight, it would save him quite some time.
~*~
In the end, it took Jun seven minutes, but Shun declared he was in a generous mood when he was still deeply engrossed in exchanging mails on his phone, probably with his flame of the day.
When they arrived at their usual bar, it was out of sheer luck that they got a table. It was packed and the waitresses already looked a little stressed out. It was whiskey, straight up, and a bowl of nuts for Shun, and a dry martini for Jun.
“So, why do you hate your class?” his roommate didn’t miss a single beat, even when his eyes were already elsewhere.
“There’s this guy…”
“Cute one?” Shun interrupted, mouth half full with nuts before he washed them down with a large sip of whiskey.
“What? NO! Well, there is, but that’s not what I’m talking about. It’s not all about sex.” Irritation was surfacing again, spreading in a frown on Jun’s forehead.
“I read an article that gay men think about sex seven times more often than straight men.”
“Do you want to hear my story or not?” Oh, he didn’t have the patience for this. Not today, not after being laughed at by basically every single student. He had already started tapping his fingers against the table in agitation, buzzing with nerves.
“Sorry. There’s this guy, not the cute one. Please go on.” In favour of his report, Jun decided to ignore Shun’s amused expression and continued his story.
“Well, like I just said, there’s this guy who constantly laughs at me. Like, in my face. He’s not even hiding it and all the others join in. Almost all of them. Remember my speech?”
“The one about the three Ps?” Shun asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Yeah, that one. I couldn’t even finish it.” He raised his hands in exasperation because, well, this already told just about everything. No further explanation needed.
Shun had the nerve - the nerve! - to stifle a small laugh of his own.
“What?!” Jun took a swig of his drink and raised a suspicious eyebrow at his roommate.
“Oh come on,” Shun sighed exasperatedly, “You can’t seriously expect them to be over the moon about your philosophy lessons. Yes, I get it, you love cooking, cooking’s your life, and yes, it’s something very important. We all need to eat. I get all that.” He held up a hand that he wasn’t finished. “But those guys don’t. They just want to learn how not to make burnt toast and instant cup noodles. And they do cough up a shitload of money for it.”
“But that’s what I mean. They pay a lot so they should get the best possible teaching,” Jun scowled, irritated.
“They probably expected less pathos and more cooking. I’m sure you won’t be laughed at when you teach them how to make fresh pasta instead of talking of divine cooking, passion and whatnot. Even I have a hard time not laughing and I’m your friend AND am used to your big speeches when it comes to cooking. They’ll find out what a great cook AND teacher you are. Otherwise you wouldn’t have landed that job at that posh school, ne?”
Jun hated to admit that Shun was probably right. He was a damn good cook, after all, and a creative one to boot. Maybe they had just had a rough start and he would win the class over next week. Fuck, maybe, he would do that. “You should’ve told me yesterday…”
“I did, remember? Right before you called me an ignorant bastard…”
Jun had the decency to look guilty. He had called him that, hadn’t he? So he gave his friend an apologetic look, which the other just waved off with a laugh.
“No hard feelings, no offense taken. I’ve known you for a while now, remember? And I am an ignorant bastard when it comes to cooking - that’s why it’s YOUR responsibility. Just imagine I was your student.” Shun took another swig of his whiskey, before he looked downright mischievous; Jun didn’t like that look one bit. “So, about that cute guy in your class…?”
“Well, he’s a student, so I didn’t pay too much attention to his looks. It would be unprofessional,” Jun lied. He HAD paid attention, it was pretty hard not to. Sakurai had nice hands, the first thing Jun had noticed about him.
Or the second, rather; the first had been his bad judgement when it came to friends. Someone buddying up with that Ninomiya guy couldn’t be in his right mind. But yeah, nice hands, kind face, took care of himself. Nice but… Jun had only accidentally noticed when he had watched them leave. No common sense when it came to fashion. But really beautiful eyes and gorgeous lips and…
“I’ve known you since you were three and I so know when you’re lying. Or daydreaming - and you’re doing both right now.” Shun’s laughter cut through his thoughts.
Jun could feel himself blush. Was he that obvious? Still, he tried to shoot a death glare at his friend. “I’m not.” It wasn’t his fault the guy was occupying his mind like that when he barely knew him. And, truthfully, he didn’t know if he wanted to be acquainted with someone who was friends with a bratty bastard like Ninomiya.
“Are too. And we both know it so stop making up excuses not to tell me. Hell, it’s been forever since you last got laid. I’m just trying to look out for you, man.” And with a wink and a smile, Shun turned to order another round of drinks for them.
Jun sighed. Shun’s definition of ‘forever’ was only a few months. Half a year, tops. So he had been busy with classes and new recipes and… stuff. And since when was it any of his friend’s business who he was having sex with and when? “Am not,” he grated, just to make a point, before he emptied his first glass to take his second from the waitress Shun was currently having eye-sex with. “Besides, there’s nothing wrong with being picky. So please forgive me for not jumping everyone I deem attractive. I do have my standards and… would you two like to get a room? Just tell me if I’m disturbing something here.”
Gee, this was supposed to be the two of them, Shun listening to his horrible day and then telling him that he was right, that Ninomiya was the devil and that he had every right to be pissed off. Maybe come up with a piece of advice or two. But Jun could tell that his friend was already gone, if not physically then mentally. Great, just great. He so wasn’t in the mood to hear Shun fuck a random chick all night long. “At least get a love hotel. I have to get some sleep tonight.”
“Matsumoto, you’re the best. You can take a cab, right?”
to be continued in part 2