cashew (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} cashew) wrote,@ 2007-10-04 23:00:00 |
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PsyDai, more Home Ec.
Title: Burnt
Fandom: PoT
Author: Me
Pairing: TAT
Rating: G
Series: PsyDai
Dislcaimer: PoT is not mine, as there would be more buttsecks if it were.
Notes: No comments out of you. None. And yes, I am so over this fandom, dammit.
===
“Holy…what is Seigaku doing?” Mukahi observed from his perch on a corner of the table.
Atobe looked up from his stirring at the comment to look at the far side of the Home Economics room where the former Seigaku students had gathered for the last stretch of their final project. White plumes of flour were obscuring most of his view, but Atobe could still make out a few flailing limbs and at least two cracked eggs oozing down the side of the table.
It was nearing the end of the first semester for the freshman students and as finals approaches ever so swiftly with each passing day, the new students were not a little high strung, worried about their tests. It was bad enough that on top of the studying, the tennis club members also had to deal with the final round of matches that would select the 50 representing players to participate in the national tournaments, but to add to that the painful ordeal of making a final Home Economics project for a grade that will determine their graduation (the administration is clearly sadistic) was making the already short tempers flare. So of course it’s no surprise that their cooking projects kept getting postponed due to Shishido’s constant temper and thus breaking of equipment.
Inui and Yanagi had taken to working in the underground library for the remainder of the semester. The other kids in the dorms had also similarly scouted out study areas far away from the earthquake inducing teen.
Although Atobe would have happily left Shishido to fend for himself, he was all too aware that he, like most other Hyoutei alumni, has little talent in the area of home economics, cooking in particular. The closest that he had ever gotten to cooking something in the kitchen was ordering his butler to bring up hot cocoa on a cold winter evening while working on his pre-calculus homework. And while he’s usually convinced that there is nothing he cannot do, Atobe was self aware enough to realize that if he wished to pull through this class with a decent grade and not be forced to repeat the course in his next year, he will need all the help he can get from the only Hyoutei alumnus that had any cooking experience. Especially considering that these were individual projects and Tezuka had refused to do his bidding.
It appeared that the rest of the Hyoutei alumni also came to the same conclusion as he and that was how Atobe found himself part of a semi-circle surrounding Shishido in the Home Economics class on a weekend morning and listening to the short teen lecturing them as he prepared ingredients.
“Look, all you have to do is make something edible to pass right?” Shishido had said as he cracked eggs expertly into a bowl. “I’ll teach you guys something simple that even Atobe can’t mess up.”
Atobe growled under his breath at the cheap jab, but let Shishido continue without disruption.
“Okay, so I’m going to teach you to make scrambled eggs. Everyone can make scrambled eggs. Now what you do is…”
Shishido trailed off to hand each of the four people surrounding him a bowl of already cracked eggs. Atobe looked at his bowl of liquidy egg and made a face. Shishido just rolled his eyes and held up his egg beater and continued, “You stick the beater in and stir. That’s right, slowly and thoroughly.”
Of course, that’s when Mukahi made his observation.
“Okay, can we focus here?” Shishido sighed in exasperation as the ex-Hyoutei members tried valiantly to drag their attention back from where they were watching the former Seigaku members make a mess of their corner of the classroom. Presumably they were also trying to finish their final projects, but with Seigaku, one can never be sure.
Placing a frying pan over the mini-stove, Shishido continued with his lecture, “Now you pour oil and heat it up. You wait until it’s warm then you pour the egg in slowly. Don’t do it too fast or the oil will pop.”
“That doesn’t sound too hard,” Atobe drawled as he watched the oil sit in his pan, gently shaking with the heat from below. As it began to form small bubbles along the edges, Atobe tipped the bowl of beaten egg, getting ready to pour its contents into the hot oil.
Naturally, it had to be at that moment that Jirou observed, “Oh wow, is Tezuka-san wearing an apron?”
“What?” Distracted, Atobe looked up from his cooking to look at where Tezuka stood in the middle of the Seigaku crowd. Not only was he wearing an apron, but it would appear that Tezuka was wearing a pink and frilly apron, complete with “kiss the cook” embroidered on the front.
Unconsciously, the bowl of egg fell from Atobe’s hand into the heated oil below.
In one moment Atobe had been goggling at Tezuka’s cooking gear and the next there was a searing pain on his hand.
Atobe screamed as his hand felt like it had been branded. Not daring to look at the condition of his hand, he began calling for help, the words jumbled with painful yelps.
Around him, pandemonium broke out.
“Shit, get the water!”
“Where’s the water?”
“Shishido, what do I do with the egg? It’s turning brown!”
“We don’t have to take care of the eggs!”
“Oh shit, it’s on fire! It’s on fire!”
“Turn off the stove!”
“There’s no OFF button!”
As the commotion continued and Atobe was desperately close to the edge of tears, he suddenly found himself dragged from the still burning mini-stove to the sink in the back of the classroom. Then his hand was thrust under a stream of freezing water and Atobe hissed between clenched teeth at the pain. Involuntarily his eyes closed as he tried to focus on not letting any tears escape.
“Keep you hand there and don’t move,” ordered Tezuka’s voice. Atobe didn’t need to open his eyes to know that Tezuka was the one who had finally taken charge of the situation. Behind him, he could hear a fire extinguisher go off and Shishido yelling at someone to “get that fucking bucket of water away from the goddamn fire”.
The grip on Atobe’s arm lessened and Tezuka began ordering, “Oishi, call the nurse to the infirmary. Inui, get the first aid kit from the emergency box. Kawamura, go tell the instructor what happened.” Then after a slight pause he added, “I’ll leave the fire to you, Shishido.”
Orders finished, Tezuka returned to Atobe’s side, presumably to check on the wound, but Atobe dared not open his eyes for fear of seeing how badly his beautiful hand had been mangled by the hot oil. He was deformed! He’ll be disowned as an heir and be forced to live in seclusion, away from society and its judging ways, like Quasimodo, in the dark basement of a church and hidden away from the views of the public! He’ll become malnourished and his body will slowly waste away, until he’s nothing but a skeletal remnant of what he once was! Oh the humanity!
“Calm down, Atobe. It’s not that bad,” Tezuka reprimanded as he pulled his hand from under the water. It would seem that he had talked aloud in his hysteria.
“What are you talking about, Tezuka?” Atobe demanded even as he meekly allowed Tezuka to slather some oily balm onto the burned skin. “I’ve been disfigured. I won’t be able to show my face in public ever again!”
“It was your hand that got burned,” Tezuka corrected. “Your face is fine. And before you ask if it’ll leave a scar, the answer is no.”
Atobe’s mouth clicked shut at the reprimand. Then he winced when Tezuka began wrapping something rough against the tender skin.
“What are you doing?” he demanded, still refusing to open his eyes to witness his horrible injury. He could hear Tezuka’s soft thanks to presumably Inui for bringing the first aid kit. Then, suddenly remembering Inui’s penchant for crazy experiments that were hazardous to one’s health, he quickly added, “Wait, did you check to make sure you didn’t put Inui juice on the wound?”
Tezuka sighed in exasperation. “Yes, I’ve checked. Now let’s get you to the infirmary. You can open your eyes now.”
“No, I can’t, Tezuka. If I do, I will witness the horrible maiming of my person. I’ve had enough of a shock today, thank you very much. I do not need to see how I am mutilated beyond human!”
Meanwhile, in the background, Atobe could hear Oshitari distinctly asking, “So, what was that about not even Atobe can mess it up?”
Atobe opened his eyes long enough to send a deathly glare in Oshitari’s direction before closing them again and leaned against Tezuka.
“I feel faint. Take me away to die. Alone. In the rain.”
“You’re not going to die,” Tezuka sighed in exasperation. With one hand, he began guiding the closed eyed Atobe around the stovetops and towards the door. To the former Hyoutei students, he announced, “I’m taking him to the infirmary. You guys come get him when you’re done.”
As they exited the Home Economics class and out of view of the other students, Atobe leaned harder against Tezuka’s hand and ordered, “Carry me.”
“You burned your hand, not broke your legs. You can walk,” Tezuka refused.
“But I’m pain. Surely you don’t expect me to walk while I’m in horrible, burning pain, Tezuka. You can’t be that heartless.” His whine over, Atobe deliberately buckled his knees, more or less collapsing against Tezuka.
Tezuka grunted at the suddenly weight and shifted to support the now limp Atobe. With a groan, he gave into the Atobe’s demands and picked up the diva in a fireman’s carry.
Atobe squawked in indignation.
“When I said ‘carry me’ I didn’t mean over your shoulder!” Atobe clarified into Tezuka’s back. Then in a more appreciative voice, he added, “Although the view can’t be faulted.”
Almost immediately, Atobe found himself right side up again and standing on his own two feet, Tezuka stood to one side glaring. Atobe pouted but Tezuka nodded towards the door behind him and said in a clipped voice, “We’re here.”
Looking up, Atobe confirmed Tezuka’s words and commented, “That was fast.”
“We’re only two doors down the hall,” Tezuka reminded him. Then with a forceful push, had Atobe stumbling into the room and planted face first into a hospital bed. As Atobe righted himself on the bed, Tezuka turned to leave and ordered, “Stay there until Oishi comes with the nurse.”
Then he disappeared through the door.
Atobe shifted on the bed, silently fuming at being left to suffer alone. However, as he settled into the bed, Tezuka suddenly appeared at the doorway again and threw something to him. Atobe snatched the flying object with his good hand on instinct and saw that it was a muffin wrapped in plastic.
“That’s your final project, by the way,” Tezuka answered the silent question as he turned to leave for a second time. “Try not to eat it before it gets graded.”
P.S. Happy B-Day 'Be. You'll get your present on Zuka's b-day.
Title: Burnt
Fandom: PoT
Author: Me
Pairing: TAT
Rating: G
Series: PsyDai
Dislcaimer: PoT is not mine, as there would be more buttsecks if it were.
Notes: No comments out of you. None. And yes, I am so over this fandom, dammit.
===
“Holy…what is Seigaku doing?” Mukahi observed from his perch on a corner of the table.
Atobe looked up from his stirring at the comment to look at the far side of the Home Economics room where the former Seigaku students had gathered for the last stretch of their final project. White plumes of flour were obscuring most of his view, but Atobe could still make out a few flailing limbs and at least two cracked eggs oozing down the side of the table.
It was nearing the end of the first semester for the freshman students and as finals approaches ever so swiftly with each passing day, the new students were not a little high strung, worried about their tests. It was bad enough that on top of the studying, the tennis club members also had to deal with the final round of matches that would select the 50 representing players to participate in the national tournaments, but to add to that the painful ordeal of making a final Home Economics project for a grade that will determine their graduation (the administration is clearly sadistic) was making the already short tempers flare. So of course it’s no surprise that their cooking projects kept getting postponed due to Shishido’s constant temper and thus breaking of equipment.
Inui and Yanagi had taken to working in the underground library for the remainder of the semester. The other kids in the dorms had also similarly scouted out study areas far away from the earthquake inducing teen.
Although Atobe would have happily left Shishido to fend for himself, he was all too aware that he, like most other Hyoutei alumni, has little talent in the area of home economics, cooking in particular. The closest that he had ever gotten to cooking something in the kitchen was ordering his butler to bring up hot cocoa on a cold winter evening while working on his pre-calculus homework. And while he’s usually convinced that there is nothing he cannot do, Atobe was self aware enough to realize that if he wished to pull through this class with a decent grade and not be forced to repeat the course in his next year, he will need all the help he can get from the only Hyoutei alumnus that had any cooking experience. Especially considering that these were individual projects and Tezuka had refused to do his bidding.
It appeared that the rest of the Hyoutei alumni also came to the same conclusion as he and that was how Atobe found himself part of a semi-circle surrounding Shishido in the Home Economics class on a weekend morning and listening to the short teen lecturing them as he prepared ingredients.
“Look, all you have to do is make something edible to pass right?” Shishido had said as he cracked eggs expertly into a bowl. “I’ll teach you guys something simple that even Atobe can’t mess up.”
Atobe growled under his breath at the cheap jab, but let Shishido continue without disruption.
“Okay, so I’m going to teach you to make scrambled eggs. Everyone can make scrambled eggs. Now what you do is…”
Shishido trailed off to hand each of the four people surrounding him a bowl of already cracked eggs. Atobe looked at his bowl of liquidy egg and made a face. Shishido just rolled his eyes and held up his egg beater and continued, “You stick the beater in and stir. That’s right, slowly and thoroughly.”
Of course, that’s when Mukahi made his observation.
“Okay, can we focus here?” Shishido sighed in exasperation as the ex-Hyoutei members tried valiantly to drag their attention back from where they were watching the former Seigaku members make a mess of their corner of the classroom. Presumably they were also trying to finish their final projects, but with Seigaku, one can never be sure.
Placing a frying pan over the mini-stove, Shishido continued with his lecture, “Now you pour oil and heat it up. You wait until it’s warm then you pour the egg in slowly. Don’t do it too fast or the oil will pop.”
“That doesn’t sound too hard,” Atobe drawled as he watched the oil sit in his pan, gently shaking with the heat from below. As it began to form small bubbles along the edges, Atobe tipped the bowl of beaten egg, getting ready to pour its contents into the hot oil.
Naturally, it had to be at that moment that Jirou observed, “Oh wow, is Tezuka-san wearing an apron?”
“What?” Distracted, Atobe looked up from his cooking to look at where Tezuka stood in the middle of the Seigaku crowd. Not only was he wearing an apron, but it would appear that Tezuka was wearing a pink and frilly apron, complete with “kiss the cook” embroidered on the front.
Unconsciously, the bowl of egg fell from Atobe’s hand into the heated oil below.
In one moment Atobe had been goggling at Tezuka’s cooking gear and the next there was a searing pain on his hand.
Atobe screamed as his hand felt like it had been branded. Not daring to look at the condition of his hand, he began calling for help, the words jumbled with painful yelps.
Around him, pandemonium broke out.
“Shit, get the water!”
“Where’s the water?”
“Shishido, what do I do with the egg? It’s turning brown!”
“We don’t have to take care of the eggs!”
“Oh shit, it’s on fire! It’s on fire!”
“Turn off the stove!”
“There’s no OFF button!”
As the commotion continued and Atobe was desperately close to the edge of tears, he suddenly found himself dragged from the still burning mini-stove to the sink in the back of the classroom. Then his hand was thrust under a stream of freezing water and Atobe hissed between clenched teeth at the pain. Involuntarily his eyes closed as he tried to focus on not letting any tears escape.
“Keep you hand there and don’t move,” ordered Tezuka’s voice. Atobe didn’t need to open his eyes to know that Tezuka was the one who had finally taken charge of the situation. Behind him, he could hear a fire extinguisher go off and Shishido yelling at someone to “get that fucking bucket of water away from the goddamn fire”.
The grip on Atobe’s arm lessened and Tezuka began ordering, “Oishi, call the nurse to the infirmary. Inui, get the first aid kit from the emergency box. Kawamura, go tell the instructor what happened.” Then after a slight pause he added, “I’ll leave the fire to you, Shishido.”
Orders finished, Tezuka returned to Atobe’s side, presumably to check on the wound, but Atobe dared not open his eyes for fear of seeing how badly his beautiful hand had been mangled by the hot oil. He was deformed! He’ll be disowned as an heir and be forced to live in seclusion, away from society and its judging ways, like Quasimodo, in the dark basement of a church and hidden away from the views of the public! He’ll become malnourished and his body will slowly waste away, until he’s nothing but a skeletal remnant of what he once was! Oh the humanity!
“Calm down, Atobe. It’s not that bad,” Tezuka reprimanded as he pulled his hand from under the water. It would seem that he had talked aloud in his hysteria.
“What are you talking about, Tezuka?” Atobe demanded even as he meekly allowed Tezuka to slather some oily balm onto the burned skin. “I’ve been disfigured. I won’t be able to show my face in public ever again!”
“It was your hand that got burned,” Tezuka corrected. “Your face is fine. And before you ask if it’ll leave a scar, the answer is no.”
Atobe’s mouth clicked shut at the reprimand. Then he winced when Tezuka began wrapping something rough against the tender skin.
“What are you doing?” he demanded, still refusing to open his eyes to witness his horrible injury. He could hear Tezuka’s soft thanks to presumably Inui for bringing the first aid kit. Then, suddenly remembering Inui’s penchant for crazy experiments that were hazardous to one’s health, he quickly added, “Wait, did you check to make sure you didn’t put Inui juice on the wound?”
Tezuka sighed in exasperation. “Yes, I’ve checked. Now let’s get you to the infirmary. You can open your eyes now.”
“No, I can’t, Tezuka. If I do, I will witness the horrible maiming of my person. I’ve had enough of a shock today, thank you very much. I do not need to see how I am mutilated beyond human!”
Meanwhile, in the background, Atobe could hear Oshitari distinctly asking, “So, what was that about not even Atobe can mess it up?”
Atobe opened his eyes long enough to send a deathly glare in Oshitari’s direction before closing them again and leaned against Tezuka.
“I feel faint. Take me away to die. Alone. In the rain.”
“You’re not going to die,” Tezuka sighed in exasperation. With one hand, he began guiding the closed eyed Atobe around the stovetops and towards the door. To the former Hyoutei students, he announced, “I’m taking him to the infirmary. You guys come get him when you’re done.”
As they exited the Home Economics class and out of view of the other students, Atobe leaned harder against Tezuka’s hand and ordered, “Carry me.”
“You burned your hand, not broke your legs. You can walk,” Tezuka refused.
“But I’m pain. Surely you don’t expect me to walk while I’m in horrible, burning pain, Tezuka. You can’t be that heartless.” His whine over, Atobe deliberately buckled his knees, more or less collapsing against Tezuka.
Tezuka grunted at the suddenly weight and shifted to support the now limp Atobe. With a groan, he gave into the Atobe’s demands and picked up the diva in a fireman’s carry.
Atobe squawked in indignation.
“When I said ‘carry me’ I didn’t mean over your shoulder!” Atobe clarified into Tezuka’s back. Then in a more appreciative voice, he added, “Although the view can’t be faulted.”
Almost immediately, Atobe found himself right side up again and standing on his own two feet, Tezuka stood to one side glaring. Atobe pouted but Tezuka nodded towards the door behind him and said in a clipped voice, “We’re here.”
Looking up, Atobe confirmed Tezuka’s words and commented, “That was fast.”
“We’re only two doors down the hall,” Tezuka reminded him. Then with a forceful push, had Atobe stumbling into the room and planted face first into a hospital bed. As Atobe righted himself on the bed, Tezuka turned to leave and ordered, “Stay there until Oishi comes with the nurse.”
Then he disappeared through the door.
Atobe shifted on the bed, silently fuming at being left to suffer alone. However, as he settled into the bed, Tezuka suddenly appeared at the doorway again and threw something to him. Atobe snatched the flying object with his good hand on instinct and saw that it was a muffin wrapped in plastic.
“That’s your final project, by the way,” Tezuka answered the silent question as he turned to leave for a second time. “Try not to eat it before it gets graded.”
P.S. Happy B-Day 'Be. You'll get your present on Zuka's b-day.