Paired With Fate

Chapter Twelve

Saburo emerged from his covers with a wide yawn and sleep blurred eyes. Tossing the sheets to one side, he climbed over his mattress and the end of Jiro's rather than try to shuffle through the stacks of books Jiro had left there. Jiro complained with a soft grunt and pulled back the foot that was squeezed beneath Saburo's weight, but otherwise did not stir. Saburo would have ignored him anyway as he yawned once more, before heading into the bathroom to deal with his bladder.

The toilet gurgled as it flushed and a gasp escaped Saburo's mouth as the cold water from the sink sprayed over his hands. There was such a thing as too cold! Drying his hands on the towel, he re-emerged and made his way to the kitchen to heat up some milk. He paused midway through the living space, drowsily blinking as he realised that this morning, he was not the first one into the kitchen. Ichiro was already there.

In his memories, Ichiro was not one for the kitchen; did not cook, could not cook and couldn't be relied on to wash up either, though he did used to do it before Saburo took over the task completely. At this moment, however, Ichiro was in the kitchen, attempting to fix the cupboard doors and humming contentedly as he did so. "I think I might need to glue this on," he mumbled as he tested his handiwork.

"Ichiro?" Saburo called out in question, wondering if he was actually still in bed, dreaming.

A bright smile greeted him. "Good morning, Saburo!" Ichiro said, before hesitating in recall of something. He made a flustered motion before taking a pan off of the hob and turning off of the gas. The pan steamed lightly and Ichiro poured the creamy contents into a mug before bringing it to Saburo, blowing away gently the rising heat as he did so. "Ah, be careful, it's hot," he stated as he handed it to his little brother.

Saburo took it with a confused look, the scent of warm milk filling his senses and drawing him into taking a sip. The temperature was just how he liked it and there wasn't the taste of burnt cream at all!

"Is Jiro getting up?" Ichiro asked him, glancing at a cup with a dry teabag in it. "I know he doesn't like his tea stewed too strongly, so I've only boiled the kettle for him."

"Ichiro?" Saburo scratched head and questioned him once more. "Are you alright?"

"Peachy," Ichiro replied and began to hum once more as he rinsed the saucepan.

Saburo thought over his answer for a moment and then his lips began to curve broadly. "Does this mean your date went well?" He parked his bottom onto one of the stools to listen for Ichiro's response. The saucepan slipped to clatter in the sink, before Ichiro quickly grabbed it, pretending that his fumble had not happened.

"Not a date," Ichiro retorted in denial. "It was two guys hanging out. Remember that!"

"Sure, sure," Saburo yawned and continued to sip his warm milk. Jiro emerged from their bedroom not long after and on seeing this, Ichiro hurried to finish making the cup of tea for him. Jiro took a seat next to his younger brother, staring at the hot beverage before him with wide eyes for a moment, before exchanging a glance with Saburo. The younger boy simply grinned brightly, his milk moustache obvious.

"Good date then," Jiro stated as he sipped the unsweetened tea.

"It was not a date!" Ichiro insisted on this fact.

"No, not a date," Saburo giggled into his fist before enquiring; "so are you two going to 'hang out' again?"

Ichiro paused as he wiped down the sides with the dishcloth. "It's not an impossibility," he replied, lightly as if he didn't care either way. "I mean, it would be good to have a guy friend. Hanging out with women is all good and all, but you have to deal with the make up trips to the bathroom, holding doors for them and..." he shuddered, dramatically, "girl talk."