Title: Irreparable
Chapter: Oneshot/Ficlet
Type: Fanfiction
Fandom: Tokyo Babylon (by CLAMP)
Genre: General, Pairing
Word Count: 890
Notes: Forcrazylady100.
Summary: The kitchen is known to be the most dangerous room in the house...




If anyone had bothered to ask Subaru about his kitchen, he would have told them it was a dangerous place. A place meant for the likes of genius cooks – like his sister – or well-to-do men who were gifted with exceptional grace – like his – well, like Seishirou. It was not particularly safe for a klutzy boy who took too much time daydreaming to properly watch where he was going, much less what he was supposed to be cooking. So, unless he was making something simple, like plain rice or tea, he left his kitchen to Hokuto.

Unfortunately for him, Hokuto had gone out for the night – on one of her trendy dates, she said. Subaru felt a bit out of sorts, especially since she had left a charmingly enthusiastic Seishirou in her wake, insisting that they make dinner together – to inspire "future heartwarming tales of domestic bliss," or something of the sort. His mind had unwittingly blurred the experience after that – a makeshift defense mechanism wherein his brain refused to function after a certain level of embarrassment.

Now, he was supposed to be sautéing onions in a saucepan. He jerked to attention and started stirring them once more, relieved to find the parts touching the pan had yet to turn black from his inattentiveness. He let out a breath of air. The tendency to let things burn or boil over was only worsened by Seishirou's presence. He snuck a glance at the overly happy man, allowing a small smile as said man bounced from station to station – chopping and cutting an assortment of vegetables and meats like some kind of professional.

He was distracted by the sudden hiss of the onions and, flustered, he moved them around. Little droplets of oil spattered up into his face, and he jerked back, mouth forming a surprised "oh." Seishirou's arms came around him then, fiddling with the knobs on the oven.

"Should let it simmer on low for awhile," Seishirou smiled, glasses glinting in the light.

Subaru nodded frantically.

"Y-yes!" he agreed nervously, turning to face the older man.

"Hmm," Seishirou hummed, reaching for the bottle of extra-virgin olive oil that was sitting on the counter and unscrewing its cap. "You think I'm a good cook?" he asked again, a pout manifesting at his plea for compliments.

"Y-yes! O-of course!"

"But I'm nothing compared to Hokuto-chan, am I? Are you sure you mean it, Subaru-kun?"

Subaru's voice faltered.


"But you prefer Hokuto-chan's cooking to mine, at least, right?"

And the way his eyes darkened, it seemed that the conversation no longer involved matters of cooking at all.

"Y-yes! I mean, no! I mean – " Subaru gnawed worriedly on his bottom lip, turning the flesh an angry red in a matter of seconds. "I mean," he took a deep breath, "I prefer your cooking a most of the time, S-Seishirou-san…" The sentence ended in a whisper, as if the secret were the most horrible sin in the entire world.

Seishirou's eyes narrowed and his smile widened maniacally as he dribbled some of the oil onto his fingertips. He stepped forward, stretching his fingers closer and closer to Subaru's cheek.

"Is that so, Subaru-kun," he whispered darkly, pressing the pads of his fingers against Subaru's skin and smearing the oil down to his lip, where he freed the bottom one from the confines of a violent tooth.

"Y-yes," Subaru whimpered breathlessly, eyes focused steadily on Seishirou's drooping eyelashes.

Seishirou smoothed his fingers around the soft flesh of Subaru's lips, moving until he had pressed the younger boy's body to the counter with his own, carefully avoiding any hot surfaces or sharp utensils.

"I'm glad," he murmured, leaning forward to let his lips barely brush the curve of Subaru's ear. "Because when we're married, you'll have to endure whatever I make. Ahahaha!"

His mood had shifted from ominous to outrageously sunny in the blink of an eye, and Subaru was left blushing to the roots of his hair.

"D-do you th-think you'd be able to teach me how?" he squeaked, letting the question out before he was aware of what he was implying.

Seishirou stopped guffawing abruptly, turning to Subaru with another serious face. An unidentifiable expression flickered over his features before he moved in close once more. Under his scrutiny, Subaru began to fidget and babble worse than usual.

"That is, I mean – I – well – I- I wouldn't want you to do all the cooking by yourself," he whimpered, wringing his hands together.

"I'll be able to teach you," Seishirou purred as he flicked the remainder of the oil from his fingers and palmed the side of Subaru's face, "all sorts of things, Subaru-kun."

Subaru was fascinated by the swirling interest in Seishirou's molten eyes, and he tilted his head in wonder, secretly intrigued by what sorts of things Seishirou meant.

"I'll be able to teach you much more than Hokuto-chan ever will," he whispered huskily, leaning forward to wrap his arms around Subaru's skinny frame. Subaru breathed in his scent, and for a moment, his mind was transported someplace far away and dangerous. He wondered briefly if the combination of flowers and metal he detected had come from the vast assortment of cooking seasonings. But the moment passed like any other, and Seishirou went back to happily slicing vegetables before Subaru could regain any semblance of composure.

Chewing his lip, Subaru turned the onions over with his tongs and discovered that the bottom sides were burned irreparably.