The Man Who Ran Off With The Moon - [ Tsukkiyama Art Thief AU! ]

Old Recipes

Tsukishima slept through the night.
It wasn't an intentional choice.
His body woke him around 5 am, hungry and aching. The cold blue of early morning illuminated the small apartment. He turned towards the bed.

Yamaguchi?

It was empty.
Tsukishima leapt off the couch and peeled back the covers. The sheets were cold and long vacant. His heart thundered in his chest.
"Tadashi?"
His voice echoed around him. No response.
"No, no, no, no!"
He sprinted down the stairs to main house, his bare feet stinging on the gravel path. Tsukishima threw open the back door and instantly stopped in his tracks.

Singing.

Soft and lilting, a voice clear and beautiful. He could not make out the words but the melody rang through him. It spoke of something grand and simple. Tsukishima stepped carefully, so as to not make any noise. He did not want to disrupt the subtle music. 
The lights of the kitchen were on.
Yamaguchi stooped over a skillet, pouring batter into the pan. The pajamas he had borrowed hung loosely off of him, the rolled pant cuffs dragged on the floor.
Tsukishima felt like he was intruding, watching the shaggy haired man sing to himself.

Yamaguchi looked...happy.

He moved with a shaky uncertainty, but it looked like he was enjoying himself.
Tsukishima stepped forward to hear better and accidentally bumped a stack of Kuroo's papers.
Yamaguchi snapped with tension. He raised a hand to his side, as if to reach into a pocket of the jacket that still hung on the bathroom door. His eyes widened when he realized the mistake, and he turned his back flush to wall, brandishing a spatula. Yamaguchi's eyes darted around the room, scanning for the noise.

The pleasant expression on his face was replaced by that hunted look, the same steely gaze from when Tsukishima had told him about the men in suits that visited.

"It's just me.", Tsukishima mumbled, a bit embarrassed. He raised his hands in a surrender, entering the kitchen. It was off putting to see how Yamaguchi had transformed so quickly.
"Oh. I'm making breakfast."
Yamaguchi gestured for him to sit. Numbly, he did. The strangeness of Yamaguchi's presence had not yet, and maybe would never pass.
Yamaguchi went back to humming. The skillet sizzled.

The stairs creaked. "Hey, Kei."
Kuroo slid into the chair next to him. He wore a fuzzy red robe and his bed head was uniquely terrible.
"You're up early."
"I was calling Kenma. It's 1pm over there."

Yamaguchi made a small noise, a bit like an ahem. Kuroo scrunched up his face.
"I told you I wasn't going to lie to my husband."
"It's not lying, it's omitting the truth", Yamaguchi replied quietly.
The frown on Kuroo's face sank lower. "That's just a fancy way of lying."
"But, did you tell him I was here?"
Kuroo paused. "No," he huffed. "Kenma knows something is up, though. If he asks again, I'm telling him."

Yamaguchi heaved a mild sigh of exasperation. "Why does he know something is up?"

Kuroo rested his forehead on the table and groaned.
"Kenma asked me if anything interesting had happened and I panicked and said no, but something interesting is always happening, like when we accidentally got our neighbors mail, or, or like when I got enough points for a free hamburger at McRonald's earlier this week. There's always something, and I always tell him about it, so I could sense that he's suspicious because I said nothing."

Tsukishima snorted. "Maybe, Kenma's just amazed that you finally learned how to discern what's actually interesting."
"HEY."

Yamaguchi laughed slightly and a wave of feeling swept over Tsukishima. Kuroo grumbled in annoyance, staring sharply at Yamaguchi as he weaved around the kitchen.

"I don't like this.", Kuroo whispered in a low tone, barely loud enough for Tsukishima to hear. Yamaguchi was making perfect little stacks of pancakes on two plates. 
"Did he say anything to you? About how he ended up here or where he's been?",Tsukishima muttered back.
"We didn't talk much, but no. I helped him change the dressing on the wound. He still needs a hospital, but he won't go. So, he's making fucking pancakes."

They watched as Yamaguchi took another pancake off the pan.

Kuroo looked intently at Tsukishima.
"How are you? Are you okay?"
Tsukishima shrugged. He genuinely didn't know. Yamaguchi arranged a spiral of fresh berries on a pancake stack. He slid the finished plates across the table to Tsukishima and Kuroo, beaming with pride at his creation.

It was the first time in about two years that Tsukishima had had a fancy breakfast. Kuroo was inhaling his plate. "These.. are very good", he glumly admitted between bites. 

The pancakes were warm, buttery, familiar. Tsukishima had a sense of deja vu. 

"Is this-" 

"Your mom's pancake recipe? Yeah." 

Whenever Yamaguchi would sleep over, Tsukishima's mother would make pancakes for them. By the time they were in high school, he asked her to stop, because it felt silly and childish. Tsukishima came home late one day to find his best friend and his mom in the kitchen, pouring batter into pans. He could still remember Yamaguchi's red face, "O-oh! Tsukki! I just wanted to learn how, since we don't eat them as often anymore." His mom had placed her hands on her hips, beaming in triumph, a See, Kei? Tadashi likes my pancakes. 

Tsukishima  felt a sudden pang of homesickness that was interrupted by the buzzing of his phone. He flipped the device over and groaned. "They want me to come into work." 

"You should go. I don't want you to lose your job", Kuroo nodded, "I'll babysit." 

Yamaguchi glared at Kuroo, but said nothing.  

Tsukishima finished the food and rose from the table. He looked at the two of them. 

Yamaguchi, Yamaguchi, Yamaguchi with his pancakes and his singing. And his absence. And his secrets, and his- He thought about the memory from his dream. He felt strange. 

"I'll see you later?" 

Yamaguchi's freckles bobbed upwards with his smile. He nodded, and Tsukishima found himself actually believing him.