Food Wars x Reader

🍵9. Sweet Potato

(Male! Reader!)

"And then you put marshmallows on top. Usually I use the tiny, pre-packaged marshmallows with my family, but we have this homemade marshmallow I made right here," I gesture to the container beside me on the counter.

Isshiki Satoshi nods, his chin against the top of one of my shoulders. His hands perch against my waist as he hums in acknowledgement of what I explained. He dons only his apron and undercloth, per usual.

I'm in charge of making a western dish for our dorm-family dinner, and decided to go with a sweet potato casserole, which I miss so dearly from where I used to live before coming to Japan.

Of course, I've had the chance of confiding in my boyfriend about this treat that I've missed. He wraps his arms around me after I set the dish in the oven and turn around. My head rests in the crook of his neck, his head on my shoulder.

"I'm glad you've taught me about something dear to you, my love."

"It's something happy to remind me of the home I had once, I guess. Something that hasn't been soured."

My relationship with my family has been terse for years, since I came out as gay. It's been a rough road, but food has never said anything rude to me yet. And neither has Satoshi.

A couple hours pass, and dinner has come and gone. My dormmates enjoyed my addition, among the various cultures and voices of food along the table.

"So, sweet potato," Satoshi teases with a brand-new nickname, brought on by my choice in ingredients, as we resume our soft-spoken talk, "what did you get me for the holidays?"

"It's not time yet," I chide with a grin. "Be patient."

"As you wish," he plants a kiss atop my head. "I'm dying to give yours to you though."

"Patience, my marshmallow boy," I kiss his cheek.

"Hmm, marshmallow boy?"

"Cuz you're sweet," I rub my nose against his in an Eskimo kiss.

He laughs as he returns the gesture. "Says the sweet potato."