Author: shanaqui/edenbound (ficjournal)
Theme: Kitchen (think a kitchen when they're out on a mission)
"What do you want for dinner?"
Seifer pauses, waiting for an answer, and then frowns to himself when, typically enough for Leonhart, he doesn't get one. He finds Squall deep in thought, staring at the television which is, in fact, not even on. Seifer huffs softly, part amused and part annoyed. He plops down beside Squall and nudges him gently.
"Hey. Dreamer boy. What do you want for dinner?"
Seifer snorts softly, reining in the urge to shake Squall. "Are you awake now and ready to pay attention to me? You were zoned out there. I was offering to make dinner and asking what you want."
"Oh. What is there in the kitchen?"
"Go and look."
Squall gives him an 'okay, you can go crawl under a rock and die now, Almasy' look, which he counters with a 'sure, once I've had something to eat' sort of look, to which Squall huffs softly and gets up to go into the kitchen. Seifer follows him at a leisurely pace, leaning against the doorframe and watching him opening cupboards and peering inside, ocassionally making faces.
Seifer smirks. "The 'oh my god what the hell is this?' look. It's cute."
"Even more predictable. Not going to try for some originality?"
"Get lost, Seifer," Squall mutters, somewhat affectionately. He rummages around in a cupboard with a look Seifer decides to call the 'eureka, I've found something Seifer's cooking can't spoil' look, and then turns to face him, holding out some things. "Pasta."
"You sure I can't mutilate that?"
"Pretty positive. Even with your skills."
"Maybe you should be cooking."
Squall smiles at him. Not exactly a sweet, sunny, Rinoa-like smile, but hey, that'd just be scary. It's a nice, natural, Squall-smile, and Seifer feels just a little honoured to be allowed to see it. "What if I have faith in you?"
"You're an idiot."
"Oh, I already knew that," Squall smiles a little more and Seifer checks the window outside for pigs flying past on angel wings. Possibly playing harps and singing. And then he finds himself checking again as Squall passes him, pausing for a second to lean up and brush a kiss over his cheek.
Still no pigs, though.
Seifer has plenty of time to ponder that as he attempts to figure out the intricacies of cooking a decent meal and impressing Squall.