smapfiic
Pairing: Shingo/Tsuyoshi
Rating: G
Notes: I've been working on this for like two months, I don't even know anymore :P
Sun-dried tomato linguine in chicken alfredo sauce
ripe tomatoes
salt
sugar
fresh basil leaves, finely chopped
olive oil
Slice tomatoes into wedges and remove seeds. Place skin side down on shallow pan lined with aluminum foil and season with salt, sugar, and basil. Place pan in dry sunlight and cover with cheesecloth and netting to keep out insects. Store in sun until tomatoes shrivel and achieve leathery, flexible feel. This may take anywhere from days to weeks, depending on the weather.
When they are ready, scoop into jar and immerse completely in olive oil. Add herbs or garlic as desired, cap tightly, and let sit for at least a week for maximum flavor.
~
"Smells like tomatoes in here," Shingo commented, ducking into the kitchen and pulling open the refrigerator door. He leaned against it with a sigh. "You've got no food."
Tsuyoshi put the jar he'd been contemplating back on the windowsill. The dark red shapes shifted, glimmering faintly where the light caught the oil. "Isn't there some kimchi left?"
His bandmate made a face and shut the fridge, sliding down to sit with his back against it. "No good without beer." There was no alcohol in the fridge.
Tsuyoshi sat on the floor opposite him. "We could go out."
Shingo grinned. "To drink? I've always wanted you to strip naked and declare your love for me in Korean." Tsuyoshi kicked him.
His bandmate raised a mischievous eyebrow. "So how do you say 'I love you' in Korean?"
"...I'm not telling you." Tsuyoshi folded his arms, trying his best to look firm.
Shingo suddenly moved across the space between them, planting his hands on either side of Tsuyoshi and leaning in close. "Saranghaeyo," he murmured into Tsuyoshi's ear.
Tsuyoshi sat still, conscious of how warm Shingo was and the way his shirt had fallen forward onto Tsuyoshi's chest. He realized he was holding his breath. It wasn't like he hadn't been face-to-face-- closer than that, even-- with his bandmate before, but--
Shingo laughed and ruffled his hair, standing up. "Just kidding," he said. "Pasta! Let's go eat Italian food."
It was a joke, like always. Tsuyoshi smiled weakly. "Sure."
~
flour
eggs
salt
water
Remove sun-dried tomatoes from oil and drain well. Puree into fine paste.
On smooth surface, heap flour and create a well in the center. Crack eggs into well and add tomato paste and a pinch of salt. Beat eggs and tomato paste, gradually drawing flour in from the sides of the well.
~
In his younger days, Tsuyoshi sometimes wondered whether anyone really liked him at all, or if they were just acting polite because nobody wanted to contradict Johnny's. When he posed the question to Nakai, the older man listed off reasons why people liked him: he worked hard, he was good-looking, he was kind and gentle. Even if he wasn't "cool," some people liked their idols a little bit awkward and down-to-earth.
When he posed the question to Shingo, though, his bandmate smacked him on the head.
"Don't say things like that," Shingo told him seriously. "It's rude to all the people who are your fans."
Tsuyoshi already admired his bandmate-- he was funny and confident and everything Tsuyoshi tried hard to be-- but after that he wondered if it was possible to become a fan of a fellow group member. If even if he didn't realize it, maybe Shingo would put some of that whole-hearted faith in him as well.
~
When mixture becomes thick and dough-like, begin working with hands. Continue until all flour is mixed into the dough. It should be moist and pliable; if too wet or too dry, add flour or water until correct consistency is achieved.
Knead dough by pushing away with the heel of your palm and folding dough back over on itself. Repeat process, rotating dough gradually, until smooth and elastic. Cover and let rest for 1 hour.
~
It was a few years before he realized that Shingo didn't want Tsuyoshi to be his fan, close but always at a distance. Close, and close by, was what he seemed to want; they hung out more and more often, eating and drinking and just lying around. But even that didn't seem to be close enough-- Shingo hugged Tsuyoshi, leaned on him, reached out and touched him whenever he could get away with it.
Tsuyoshi was a little troubled by this. Skinship was well and fine by him, but Shingo's idea of personal space was different from most people's, and could be kind of... intense at times.
Things were doubly complicated by the fact that Shingo didn't seem to draw any distinctions between love and friendship. He touched people and flirted with them and sometimes even told them outright that he loved them, but it was impossible to tell what he meant by it. Maybe even Shingo didn't know, or maybe there just wasn't a difference.
Tsuyoshi couldn't tell. He wasn't sure why it bothered him so much.
~
Roll dough out evenly to less than 1/8 in. thickness on clean, flour-dusted surface. Sprinkle dough with flour and let dry for 15 minutes. Fold 2-3 inch strips of the dried dough widthwise and cut 1/8 in. linguine noodles with sharp knife, using a straight edge to guide each cut. Or, if you are feeling lazy, just crank the strips through a pasta machine. Hang noodles up to dry.
~
"Hey Shingo, did you see my photoshoot?" Tsuyoshi gestured with the magazine he was holding. Shingo looked over his shoulder.
"Ooh, you look sexy in that one."
"Sexy?" Tsuyoshi tilted his head doubtfully at the pictures. "Which one?"
"All of them." Shingo leaned over and pressed his lips gently to the back of his bandmate's neck. "Tsuyopon is always sexy."
Tsuyoshi laughed and swatted at him, trying not to think about the feeling of warm breath on his skin.
~
butter
parmesan cheese, grated
heavy cream
pepper
salt
boneless chicken breasts
fresh basil leaves, whole
Cut chicken breasts into strips. Season with salt and pepper, and stir fry in olive oil from sun-dried tomatoes until just cooked through. In a saucepan, melt butter and add cream and cheese. Stir constantly over low heat until thickened with an even consistency. Remove from heat and add chicken.
Cook linguine in salted, boiling water. Since it is fresh, it will take only a few minutes. Do not overcook.
~
For a few years, he was fine with the way things were. They were close friends, and if Shingo felt any sort of underlying uncertainty, he didn't show it. There was no point in agonizing about it; there was no time to, really, between television shows and concert tours and the constant cycle of the seasons.
But then he'd spent a month suddenly isolated from all those things, suddenly free to think about whatever he wanted for however long, and it was unbearable. Shingo called him every day, talking late into the night even though he couldn't afford to, vigilantly warding off loneliness with news or inane anecdotes or nothing at all. He reassured Tsuyoshi, his voice a lifeline of confidence stronger even than the radiating faith he had in his fans.
So when things returned to normal, Tsuyoshi couldn't. He had to do something, make an effort of some sort, to show Shingo what he felt. Even if he still wasn't sure what exactly that was.
~
Arrange linguine on plates and drizzle sauce lightly over top, balancing the proportion so that one flavor will not overpower the other. Garnish with basil leaves. Serve with light salad and red wine.
~
Shingo lifted a forkful of blushing noodles to his mouth. Tsuyoshi watched him chew, holding his breath.
"Well?"
His bandmate took a sip of wine and sighed happily, looking at him with half-closed eyes. "I love you." His mouth twitched into a grin, and he leaned forward for another bite.
Tsuyoshi laughed. "No, seriously. I worked hard on this, so I want a proper response."
"That is a proper response." Shingo speared a piece of chicken. "This is amazing."
Tsuyoshi twirled pasta onto his fork, unable to hide a pleased smile. Tomato and basil burst like sunlight on his tongue, followed by the more mellow flavors of cream and cheese. They balanced in perfect harmony.
They discussed the difficulties of drying tomatoes, the movie Tsuyoshi had seen the other day, the newest bit of English slang Shingo had picked up lately, the way Nakai always got a new paper cup every time he visited the water cooler during rehearsals. When they were done, Shingo sat back and fixed Tsuyoshi with a serious expression. "Why?"
Tsuyoshi looked up from where he was twirling the stem of his wine glass. "Huh?"
"The pasta. Why did you make it?"
Tsuyoshi fiddled with the wine glass again.
"It's... well-- thank you," he finally blurted out. "For calling me every day then." He took a hurried sip of wine, avoiding Shingo's eyes. "And for going out to eat with me all the time, and putting up with me when I'm drunk, and giving me hugs, and, f-for everything, really," he finished lamely. There was something more, somehow, but he couldn't quite find the words.
Shingo picked up his plate and came around the table to stand next to Tsuyoshi, watching him. "You don't have to thank me for that sort of thing," he said softly. He reached to take the other plate, but Tsuyoshi stood up with a clatter and hugged him, suddenly and awkwardly.
"Thank you for having so much confidence in me." His voice dropped to a whisper to keep from shaking. "S-- saranghaeyo."
He hadn't planned to say that. Shingo met Tsuyoshi's eyes, looking for once hesitant and uncertain. He leaned in, slowly, cautiously, until he was barely an inch away, his breath ghosting across Tsuyoshi's lips. Tsuyoshi moved forward with a sudden rush of courage, meeting Shingo's mouth with his own. It tasted like sun-dried tomatoes.
He pulled back just as quickly, ready to leave it at that, but Shingo followed, setting down the plate he was holding with a thump. He pressed a brief kiss to Tsuyoshi's lips, and another, and another, pausing between each one to see his reaction. Tsuyoshi found himself almost laughing, his nose and eyes crinkling as his bandmate ducked in for a fourth time.
"Thank you," Shingo murmured, a curiously shy smile playing across his mouth. He rested his forehead against Tsuyoshi's and settled his hands lightly on his waist, testing newly redefined boundaries. Tsuyoshi tightened his arms around him in return, tight enough that he could feel Shingo's heart beating.
The smile suddenly spread into a grin. "Two out of three."
Tsuyoshi blinked at him. "Huh?"
"Two out of three. You're not naked."
"What? Oh." Tsuyoshi smiled. The heartbeat was strong and steady and warm like the sun through his kitchen window. It seemed impossible, now, he could ever have been uncertain. "Maybe next time."
Shingo laughed, and slid a hand up Tsuyoshi's back to pull him into a much longer kiss.
~
For dessert, follow with coffee, chocolate, and a little bit-- just a little-- of cuddling. Let someone else do the dishes.
Rating: G
Notes: I've been working on this for like two months, I don't even know anymore :P
Sun-dried tomato linguine in chicken alfredo sauce
ripe tomatoes
salt
sugar
fresh basil leaves, finely chopped
olive oil
Slice tomatoes into wedges and remove seeds. Place skin side down on shallow pan lined with aluminum foil and season with salt, sugar, and basil. Place pan in dry sunlight and cover with cheesecloth and netting to keep out insects. Store in sun until tomatoes shrivel and achieve leathery, flexible feel. This may take anywhere from days to weeks, depending on the weather.
When they are ready, scoop into jar and immerse completely in olive oil. Add herbs or garlic as desired, cap tightly, and let sit for at least a week for maximum flavor.
~
"Smells like tomatoes in here," Shingo commented, ducking into the kitchen and pulling open the refrigerator door. He leaned against it with a sigh. "You've got no food."
Tsuyoshi put the jar he'd been contemplating back on the windowsill. The dark red shapes shifted, glimmering faintly where the light caught the oil. "Isn't there some kimchi left?"
His bandmate made a face and shut the fridge, sliding down to sit with his back against it. "No good without beer." There was no alcohol in the fridge.
Tsuyoshi sat on the floor opposite him. "We could go out."
Shingo grinned. "To drink? I've always wanted you to strip naked and declare your love for me in Korean." Tsuyoshi kicked him.
His bandmate raised a mischievous eyebrow. "So how do you say 'I love you' in Korean?"
"...I'm not telling you." Tsuyoshi folded his arms, trying his best to look firm.
Shingo suddenly moved across the space between them, planting his hands on either side of Tsuyoshi and leaning in close. "Saranghaeyo," he murmured into Tsuyoshi's ear.
Tsuyoshi sat still, conscious of how warm Shingo was and the way his shirt had fallen forward onto Tsuyoshi's chest. He realized he was holding his breath. It wasn't like he hadn't been face-to-face-- closer than that, even-- with his bandmate before, but--
Shingo laughed and ruffled his hair, standing up. "Just kidding," he said. "Pasta! Let's go eat Italian food."
It was a joke, like always. Tsuyoshi smiled weakly. "Sure."
~
flour
eggs
salt
water
Remove sun-dried tomatoes from oil and drain well. Puree into fine paste.
On smooth surface, heap flour and create a well in the center. Crack eggs into well and add tomato paste and a pinch of salt. Beat eggs and tomato paste, gradually drawing flour in from the sides of the well.
~
In his younger days, Tsuyoshi sometimes wondered whether anyone really liked him at all, or if they were just acting polite because nobody wanted to contradict Johnny's. When he posed the question to Nakai, the older man listed off reasons why people liked him: he worked hard, he was good-looking, he was kind and gentle. Even if he wasn't "cool," some people liked their idols a little bit awkward and down-to-earth.
When he posed the question to Shingo, though, his bandmate smacked him on the head.
"Don't say things like that," Shingo told him seriously. "It's rude to all the people who are your fans."
Tsuyoshi already admired his bandmate-- he was funny and confident and everything Tsuyoshi tried hard to be-- but after that he wondered if it was possible to become a fan of a fellow group member. If even if he didn't realize it, maybe Shingo would put some of that whole-hearted faith in him as well.
~
When mixture becomes thick and dough-like, begin working with hands. Continue until all flour is mixed into the dough. It should be moist and pliable; if too wet or too dry, add flour or water until correct consistency is achieved.
Knead dough by pushing away with the heel of your palm and folding dough back over on itself. Repeat process, rotating dough gradually, until smooth and elastic. Cover and let rest for 1 hour.
~
It was a few years before he realized that Shingo didn't want Tsuyoshi to be his fan, close but always at a distance. Close, and close by, was what he seemed to want; they hung out more and more often, eating and drinking and just lying around. But even that didn't seem to be close enough-- Shingo hugged Tsuyoshi, leaned on him, reached out and touched him whenever he could get away with it.
Tsuyoshi was a little troubled by this. Skinship was well and fine by him, but Shingo's idea of personal space was different from most people's, and could be kind of... intense at times.
Things were doubly complicated by the fact that Shingo didn't seem to draw any distinctions between love and friendship. He touched people and flirted with them and sometimes even told them outright that he loved them, but it was impossible to tell what he meant by it. Maybe even Shingo didn't know, or maybe there just wasn't a difference.
Tsuyoshi couldn't tell. He wasn't sure why it bothered him so much.
~
Roll dough out evenly to less than 1/8 in. thickness on clean, flour-dusted surface. Sprinkle dough with flour and let dry for 15 minutes. Fold 2-3 inch strips of the dried dough widthwise and cut 1/8 in. linguine noodles with sharp knife, using a straight edge to guide each cut. Or, if you are feeling lazy, just crank the strips through a pasta machine. Hang noodles up to dry.
~
"Hey Shingo, did you see my photoshoot?" Tsuyoshi gestured with the magazine he was holding. Shingo looked over his shoulder.
"Ooh, you look sexy in that one."
"Sexy?" Tsuyoshi tilted his head doubtfully at the pictures. "Which one?"
"All of them." Shingo leaned over and pressed his lips gently to the back of his bandmate's neck. "Tsuyopon is always sexy."
Tsuyoshi laughed and swatted at him, trying not to think about the feeling of warm breath on his skin.
~
butter
parmesan cheese, grated
heavy cream
pepper
salt
boneless chicken breasts
fresh basil leaves, whole
Cut chicken breasts into strips. Season with salt and pepper, and stir fry in olive oil from sun-dried tomatoes until just cooked through. In a saucepan, melt butter and add cream and cheese. Stir constantly over low heat until thickened with an even consistency. Remove from heat and add chicken.
Cook linguine in salted, boiling water. Since it is fresh, it will take only a few minutes. Do not overcook.
~
For a few years, he was fine with the way things were. They were close friends, and if Shingo felt any sort of underlying uncertainty, he didn't show it. There was no point in agonizing about it; there was no time to, really, between television shows and concert tours and the constant cycle of the seasons.
But then he'd spent a month suddenly isolated from all those things, suddenly free to think about whatever he wanted for however long, and it was unbearable. Shingo called him every day, talking late into the night even though he couldn't afford to, vigilantly warding off loneliness with news or inane anecdotes or nothing at all. He reassured Tsuyoshi, his voice a lifeline of confidence stronger even than the radiating faith he had in his fans.
So when things returned to normal, Tsuyoshi couldn't. He had to do something, make an effort of some sort, to show Shingo what he felt. Even if he still wasn't sure what exactly that was.
~
Arrange linguine on plates and drizzle sauce lightly over top, balancing the proportion so that one flavor will not overpower the other. Garnish with basil leaves. Serve with light salad and red wine.
~
Shingo lifted a forkful of blushing noodles to his mouth. Tsuyoshi watched him chew, holding his breath.
"Well?"
His bandmate took a sip of wine and sighed happily, looking at him with half-closed eyes. "I love you." His mouth twitched into a grin, and he leaned forward for another bite.
Tsuyoshi laughed. "No, seriously. I worked hard on this, so I want a proper response."
"That is a proper response." Shingo speared a piece of chicken. "This is amazing."
Tsuyoshi twirled pasta onto his fork, unable to hide a pleased smile. Tomato and basil burst like sunlight on his tongue, followed by the more mellow flavors of cream and cheese. They balanced in perfect harmony.
They discussed the difficulties of drying tomatoes, the movie Tsuyoshi had seen the other day, the newest bit of English slang Shingo had picked up lately, the way Nakai always got a new paper cup every time he visited the water cooler during rehearsals. When they were done, Shingo sat back and fixed Tsuyoshi with a serious expression. "Why?"
Tsuyoshi looked up from where he was twirling the stem of his wine glass. "Huh?"
"The pasta. Why did you make it?"
Tsuyoshi fiddled with the wine glass again.
"It's... well-- thank you," he finally blurted out. "For calling me every day then." He took a hurried sip of wine, avoiding Shingo's eyes. "And for going out to eat with me all the time, and putting up with me when I'm drunk, and giving me hugs, and, f-for everything, really," he finished lamely. There was something more, somehow, but he couldn't quite find the words.
Shingo picked up his plate and came around the table to stand next to Tsuyoshi, watching him. "You don't have to thank me for that sort of thing," he said softly. He reached to take the other plate, but Tsuyoshi stood up with a clatter and hugged him, suddenly and awkwardly.
"Thank you for having so much confidence in me." His voice dropped to a whisper to keep from shaking. "S-- saranghaeyo."
He hadn't planned to say that. Shingo met Tsuyoshi's eyes, looking for once hesitant and uncertain. He leaned in, slowly, cautiously, until he was barely an inch away, his breath ghosting across Tsuyoshi's lips. Tsuyoshi moved forward with a sudden rush of courage, meeting Shingo's mouth with his own. It tasted like sun-dried tomatoes.
He pulled back just as quickly, ready to leave it at that, but Shingo followed, setting down the plate he was holding with a thump. He pressed a brief kiss to Tsuyoshi's lips, and another, and another, pausing between each one to see his reaction. Tsuyoshi found himself almost laughing, his nose and eyes crinkling as his bandmate ducked in for a fourth time.
"Thank you," Shingo murmured, a curiously shy smile playing across his mouth. He rested his forehead against Tsuyoshi's and settled his hands lightly on his waist, testing newly redefined boundaries. Tsuyoshi tightened his arms around him in return, tight enough that he could feel Shingo's heart beating.
The smile suddenly spread into a grin. "Two out of three."
Tsuyoshi blinked at him. "Huh?"
"Two out of three. You're not naked."
"What? Oh." Tsuyoshi smiled. The heartbeat was strong and steady and warm like the sun through his kitchen window. It seemed impossible, now, he could ever have been uncertain. "Maybe next time."
Shingo laughed, and slid a hand up Tsuyoshi's back to pull him into a much longer kiss.
~
For dessert, follow with coffee, chocolate, and a little bit-- just a little-- of cuddling. Let someone else do the dishes.