First Dinner

Yzak x Dearka – Written for 'Deep Emotion' at yzak dot nu's Secret Santa challenge

By Kelly O'Connor


"That's everything, thanks," Dearka confirmed and placed the phone back on the hook and walked into the living room, where Yzak was reading a magazine.

"What were you doing on the phone?" The silver-haired man asked.

Folding up the slip of paper labeled 'menu,' sliding it into his pocket, Dearka shrugged and made himself comfortable in a recliner. "I was ordering delivery."

"Delivery?" Yzak lowered the magazine, "Excuse me, but I can cook."

"After last time?" Dearka raised an eyebrow and gestured in the negative, "Noooo way."

"Why not?" He snapped in retort, clearly growing more irritated by the moment.

"Calm down man," Dearka put his arms up, "It was a disaster and you know it."

"It was only a fluke accident."

"Uh yeah, a fluke accident that almost cost us the kitchen," Dearka countered. "And a brand new kitchen at that..."

Yzak coughed and crossed his arms, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh so you don't remember how you almost burned down the house?"

"No. You must be imagining things," He retorted, loudly opening the magazine and pretending to read it.

"Yzak, it was the night we first moved in here. Don't even try and act like it didn't happen."

"So perhaps something caught on fire. What about it?"

Dearka sighed walking over to sit beside Yzak. He remembered the incident very clearly. Then again, it was hard to forget it.


It was a cool autumn afternoon when they'd finally gotten everything settled in. With the wars long over and the paychecks from their current jobs finally adding up, Dearka and Yzak had purchased a home of their own.

Spending most of the morning unpacking boxes, Dearka was a bit thrown when Yzak absently noted that he'd take care of dinner. The blonde-haired man figured it would be take-out or something Ezaria had sent over as a gift. Needless to say, he was quite surprised to see Yzak standing in the kitchen with a cookbook and ingredients out.

"You're going to cook?" He asked casually, not quite believing what his eyes were seeing.

Yzak snapped his head up, "You got a problem with that?"

"No, just...surprised that's all."

"Hmph. I'm not an idiot like some people. I can cook."

Dearka waited a moment before asking the obvious, "So when did you find out Athrun can't cook?"

"As if that strange looking crap he ate at the academy could actually taste good. So I hope you like potato casserole because that's what we're eating."

Not about to press the issue further, Dearka stifled a laugh and sat down at the table.

"I'll eat anything you cook just so I can say I ate something Yzak Jule cooked."

Yzak tossed a potato at Dearka, "And for that, you're peeling the potatoes."

"First day in my new house and I get stuck with galley duty," Dearka muttered standing to get the potato peeler, "Because we all know nothing says 'I love you' like making people peel potatoes."

Yzak scowled, "It's your fault for not keeping your mouth shut."

"You would have made me do it anyways," He countered.

The room fell silent for a moment before Yzak muttered in reply, "So what's your point?"


The actual making of the casserole seemed to be going quite well, even though Dearka swore he'd never peel another potato in his life; but when it came time to put it in the oven, things began to get dicey.

"Preheat the oven to 650 F."

"Six-hundred? That seems a lot..." Dearka said skeptically eying the oven.

"That's what it says right here," Yzak replied pointing to the hand written recipe.

"It looks like a three to me."

"I think I know my own Mother's handwriting, Dearka."

"But something that high for something like this?" He replied looking at the pan he held with the casserole.

"That's what it says so that's what we'll cook it at."

Handing over the pan warily, Dearka edged back away from the oven as Yzak put it in.

"Now we just have to wait forty-five minutes."

Dearka gave an uneasy smile and looked to the oven warming up. He had a bad feeling about this- a very bad feeling. And sure enough, as the minutes ticked by the smell of something obviously burning entered the air.


"It's just cooking."

"But it..."

"It's fine."

The moment those words left his lips the bubbling sound became louder and louder until it was obviously that everything was definitely not fine. Within seconds, the new kitchen was filled with smoke, flame and the smell of burnt casserole.

Quickly the two went into action to put out the blaze- the oven being turned off, water being used to dose the flaming oven and the overcooked and burnt food being moved to the sink.

Soot-smudged and already knowing he'd get hell for it later, Dearka spoke up.

"So it was 650 F, right?"

"Just shut up."

"I bet if we called and asked Ezaria, she'd agree with me that it was three-hundred fifty too."

"I said, shut up."

Shrugging and looking over to the still-smoldering casserole Dearka remarked on one more thing.

"Then again, I suppose if you like it well-done..."

Yzak was just about to yell at him one more time to shut up, when he started smirking instead.

"And if I remember right you said you'd eat anything I cooked, Dearka."

The blonde-haired man blanched, "I'm not sure you could call that stuff cooking."

"We put it in the oven, didn't we?"

Dearka blinked, "You're not seriously going to make me eat that are you?"

"I'm not the one who swore I would eat it," Yzak retorted reaching for a fork.

Scooping a mouthful of the burnt casserole onto it, he held it out.

"Go on now."

"Yzak, I was just... mmpff."

His words getting cut off by the food being shoved into his mouth, Dearka winced and swallowed it down.

"Okay, that was just gross."

"You asked for it."

"Fine fine, let's just get this mess cleaned up."


"And that is why you are not cooking," Dearka said conclusively, having cited all the chaos from the former attempt at it.

"Funny, I remember it differently. More like you confusing me about the oven setting and then it blowing up."



"Just...never mind" Dearka sighed, knowing that arguing with Yzak when he was being particularly stubborn wasn't a good idea.

Leaning his head over on Dearka's shoulder, Yzak muttered.

"Next time, you're cooking."

"Oh? Why's that?"

Yzak smirked, "So I can laugh at you when it blows up in your face."

Dearka shook his head, pausing only at the sound of the doorbell. Pressing a quick kiss to Yzak's forehead, he stood.

"You would enjoy that, wouldn't you?"

"Fair is fair."

Paying the deliveryman for the food, Dearka brought it back in and sat it out. Taking a dish for himself, he took a bite- quite thankful that it wasn't burnt like Yzak's infamous casserole.