Cardinal sin

Stuffing

"Your knives are all so dull! Don't you know a dull kitchen knife is more dangerous than a sharp one?!" Hawks complained, shuffling around your tiny kitchen. You sat on your counter, sipping on the (you thought it was probably expensive by the way he wouldn't tell you what it was) wine and watching him.

"If you're going to complain about my kitchen you can always get out of it." You teased, leaning back against the wall. He flashed a playful grin at you and put the knife down. He approached slowly, as if he was afraid of you running away. You knew, if you had any common sense, you would have.

"I'll just have to buy you new ones then huh?" He murmured, slotting himself between your legs. You blushed. No way- he wouldn't... Right? Would he? Keigo brought a spoon up to your face with a smirk. "Just a little taste." He murmured, and pressed the cool metal to your lips. You had no choice, right? You just had to open them. You could never deny Hawks. You were shocked to find that the flavor on the utensil was not of dumplings, but of cream. Sweet, light, airy. Notes of vanilla and nutmeg danced across your tongue as you swallowed, and you tilted your head in contemplation. "It's just the base for the brulee, does it need anything?" He asked, his golden eyes flitting between your eyes. He spent a considerable amount of time staring at each individual eye as if he was studying them. As if there was something interesting there. You didn't think there was, but he clearly didn't hold the same idea. You wondered when he had started making a creme brulee, when you had agreed to dessert. You had wanted a completely different kind of dessert, but you doubted that was ever going to happen.

"I don't think it needs anything." You said once the cream was fully dissipated in your mouth, and he grinned. Like a child who had been told he'd done a job well. You loved that part of him, his boyish nature melted your heart. He had something so... kind, and innocent about him that you couldn't help but fantasize about him as a romantic partner, not just a sexual one. Would he hold your hand? Would he buy you flowers? Would he give you soft kisses in the wee hours of the morning, and tuck the blankets back under you when you left for work?

"Good, because your spice cabinet is severely lacking- Jesus kid, do you do anything BUT work?" He teased, turning his winged back to you again and digging through your cupboards. There it is again- that teasing, that borderline mean behavior that has your thighs pressing together because you know that the praise always comes right after it. "You're such a good girl." Ah, there it is. You swallow, watching his muscled back as he bends slightly to taste from the pot. The fabric of his hero costume is thin, and you are equally thankful and enraged. How dare he be so goddamn hot while also being so goddamn annoying? It was unfair how much of an effect he had on you. "You just gonna sit there and let me talk your ear off? C'mon, tell me about you- everyone knows about me." He turns, leaning back against the counter beside the stove, smirking. A twinkle of mischief in his eye.

"Ah- there's not much about me, honestly. Anything you need to know was on my resume." You responded, looking down at your glass of wine. He hummed and pulled out his phone.

"What kind of music do you like?" He asked, tapping quickly at the screen, but keeping his golden eyes trained on you with a smile so soft, you imagined you could probably fall asleep on it. You'd never felt anything like this before, the weightlessness, the unconditional comfort that rolled off of his tongue and out of his body with every moment. Your fears came not from him, but from the idea of somehow ruining this- these small moments filled with more tenderness than you had been afforded in your entire life.

"Music is music. It'd be easier to ask what I don't like." You offered simply, hoping you wouldn't have to make a decision and possibly ruin this with a choice he wouldn't like. Even if you were overthinking this, even if you were dreaming, you couldn't complain. You'd never felt this loved before. You'd never been this genuinely happy. You found yourself hanging on his every word, his every breath was sweeter than sugar, more savory than cream. Every gesture you would keep locked in your heart. He was everything good in the world- every pure, innocent, sexy, haunting idea you'd ever had about him was coming true. You just had to play it cool. A feat on its own when you were sweating.