Double Mission || OsaSuna

1

Suna is a disaster, he can't bring himself to accept his feelings for a boy, even though everyone but himself can tell he has feelings for his best friend.

No.

It's platonic.

Even if he tries to do something nice for Osamu, like following his love language...In a platonic way!

Suna finds himself attempting to cook for Osamu. Suna is known to be a walking disaster in the kitchen. If there's a fact about Suna that everyone knows, it's that he doesn't belong in the kitchen.

But he can try, for his.. Friend!

"It can't be that bad..!" Atsumu reassured him from the opposing side of the phone line. Rintarō scoffed, taking the tray out of the oven, tilting his head to trap his phone between his head and shoulder, a squeal left his mouth and a clatter of trays fell from his side of the call, "Sunarin- what- what 'av ya done now?" he asked, concerned.

The brunette groaned at the sight of a black loaf of bread with lumps forming from the absurd amount of flour. He winced due to the feeling of the burn becoming less durable, a scar starting to form, "Shit 'Tsumu" he said between gritted teeth, "I think cooking will be the death of me."

"Suna?" He asked, continuing when he got a pained hum in reply, "Did ya-" he started, chuckling at the thought, "Did- did you erm, whew okay one sec." he cleared his throat, his voice now seeming more steady, "Did ya put a glove on? Y'know to take the tray out of the oven?" The line went quiet for a moment, leaving Atsumu alone with his thoughts, "Suna?"

"Huh-" He said, rather confused on the other side of the line, "Why would I wear gloves when I'm inside?" he questioned, still staring down at the lump forming just above his palm. "Uh- I think I'm gonna hang up and make a new loaf, maybe bandage up this burn as well. Cya."

"Wait mayb-" Atsumus voice echoed through the kitchen as Suna pressed the red button to hang up.

He huffed staring at the mess he turned his once-clean kitchen into; Water was spilled from the jug which once held far more than necessary. Oil was leaking from the counter, slowly dripping to the floor. Salt, which had spilled from its container, and the left-over dry yeast mixing with the oil on the counter. This was for Osamu. He had to remind himself that friends make a mess for each other. Platonic. Friends. They don't have to have feelings to try to do something nice for a friend right?

He quickly grabbed a wipe and started cleaning the kitchen, starting with the sides; he swiped away at the oil and yeast which was sticking to the counter, when he finished cleaning the counter, he grabbed another wipe, wiping the top of the oven, slowly making its way to where the pans would be placed when making food. Unfortunately for Suna, he hadn't yet turned the knob off, causing the electric stove to flame up when it came in contact with the water from the soaked rag Suna was using. He pulled his arm back, away from the heat, turning the knob off and flicking the switch to ensure the oven was completely off. Rintarõ held back a groan, gripping at his forearm, which he was sure would have another burn mark appearing in just a couple minutes. He decided the best decision to make for the recurring minutes would be to grab a mop and clean the floor before Osamu arrived. He swept the oil, flour, yeast and water into a pan, before going over the marble flooring with a wet mop.

When the cleaning was complete, he let out a breath of relief he didn't realise he was holding, which got abrupt by the ring of a doorbell. He straightened up, wincing at the pain worsening in his arms, he made his way through his kitchen, biting at his bottom lip. His walking came to a halt in the living room to grab onto the couch when he noticed his stance started to falter. Suna fixed his posture, ignoring the blurry haze starting to cloud its way into his eyesight, he scratched at his arm with his nails for a sense of comfort before continuing his way towards the doorway.