Prompt: 074 ~ Spatula May 2011©
Fandom: The GazettE
Focus: Aoi x Meisa
Word Count: 1,707
Fandom: The GazettE
Focus: Aoi x Meisa
Word Count: 1,707
Meisa was hot when she cooked.
Meisa was hot in general, but Aoi thought she was especially hot when she was cooking.
Like she was now.
It was a sunny Sunday afternoon and Meisa was working her magic in the kitchenette of the GazettE’s studio lounge. It was unendingly surprising just how many different things she could whip up in that tiny excuse for a functioning kitchen. At the moment, Aoi couldn’t tell what it was she was making, but it seemed to him that it involved an awful lot of ingredients.
The guitarist was watching her openly at this point, knowing full well that she was far too absorbed in her carefully coordinated task to take any notice of his staring.
At first he’d been watching her out of the corner of his eye, pretending to still be involved with watching television. Such a pretense hadn’t been necessary, though, as Kitty took up Meisa’s attention far too entirely for any pretense to have been required.
Kitty took up everyone’s attention entirely.
By now, Aoi was used to it.
He’d been watching television with Meisa when Kitty had come storming in from the balcony, locking Reita out in the process, and had claimed Meisa’s attention for herself. By now Aoi was used to having the little singer snatch his Meisa away. Honestly, he wasn’t even bothered by it anymore, as Kitty’s little tantrums usually ended up with Meisa in the kitchen like she was now, whipping up something chocolaty to swing Kitty’s mood back to its good side via her intense sweet tooth.
Aoi watched as Meisa slid something, the fruit of over twenty minutes’ furious labor, into the tiny oven of the kitchenette and leaned over the counter with a chocolate covered spatula in hand. She was looking at the glass door that was keeping Reita isolated on the tiny balcony, watching as the bassist crouched down with his elbows on his knees and shaded his eyes to see past the glare of the sun to find out if there was anyone around to let him back inside. As she watched him, and Aoi watched her, Meisa absently began to lick the chocolate from the smoothe white surface of her spatula.
Her tongue alone could have been a focus of one of the ridiculous fanfictions the Sixth Guns wrote, so alluring was it as it worked at stripping away the spatula’s chocolate coating. Aoi was sure that he’d been written into something like it, but with Kai as the cook consuming his attention. Meisa far outclassed even the most amatory descriptions the fans could cook up of Kai, however, of that Aoi was sure. And she did it without even trying.
Meisa’s hair was pulled up haphazardly, arranged in something of a bun that’s sole excuse for being was to keep out of Meisa’s way. There were smears of flour and powdered sugar on her face that served to perfectly accent her sharply elegant features. The black fabric of her tank top was also marred by smartly set streaks of flour and sugar, and the edge of it had been pulled down by her stomach pressing against the counter as she leaned over to watch Reita looking pathetic crouched outside; low enough for Aoi’s eye’s to be fixed in place tracing the taunting curve of fabric and for his swallows to catch dryly in his throat.
When Meisa had finished with licking her spatula clean, she ducked out of sight for a second to check on whatever she’d stuck in the over. Satisfied with what she saw she twirled away from the oven and began sorting through her magical cabinet of endless ingredients. As she began preparing a second concoction, bobbing her head to some song or other than she was playing in her mind, the situation became all too much to bear for Aoi.
Turning off the television and sauntering over to the kitchen, Aoi tried to mask his unsettled energy by making to dip his finger into the sugary amalgam that Meisa was mixing together.
She slapped his hand with her spatula. “No tastes!”
“Eh? Why not?” Aoi asked her with a well-practiced and childish innocence laced into the expression of his curiosity.
“It’s not ready yet,” Meisa said shortly, huffing a bit. “Besides, I won’t have anyone contaminating my perfect butter cream icing with whatever horrors your hands have been getting into!”
Aoi shrugged, coming up behind her to sling his arms around her waist and pull her hips closer to him. “If I can’t taste your cooking, I’ll just have to taste you,” he huffed deeply, grinning sideways at her suggestively.
It earned him another smack from the spatula. “Tsk, tsk, I’m busy right now if you couldn’t tell,” Meisa chided, adding, “Besides, you sound ridiculous right now, have you been reading fanfiction again? I told Uruha that it’s only going to make you corny idiots even worse.”
“I haven’t been reading all that much,” Aoi defended. He shifted his grip on Meisa’s waist so that she could continue with her cooking work while he watched the proceedings with his chin on her shoulder, and asked, “So what is it exactly that you’re busy with over here?”
“I’m making Kitty a cake,” Meisa announced with satisfaction. “It’s devil’s food cake with chocolate butter cream icing, my special recipe.”
“She’s fighting with Reita again,” Meisa sighed, glancing over at the exiled bassist for a moment.
“She’s always fighting with Reita,” Aoi mentioned, adding, “She doesn’t always get a cake out of it, though.”
Meisa smacked him again and Aoi realized that he was quickly growing to dislike the seductive spatula that had lured him into the line of fire to begin with. “Kitty doesn’t fight with him so that I’ll bake her something,” Meisa declared firmly. “I bake her things because I’m hopeless at talking her into feeling better, that’s Maki’s department.”
“Still, you don’t usually go through the trouble of making her a cake,” Aoi said cautiously, eyeing the spatula in case it moved in to strike another blow. Reita might have been able to stand being physically abused by his girlfriend; hell, he could even be accused of liking it. The same however, could not be said of the rest of the GazettE’s members, and Aoi was growing very wary of Meisa’s spatula.
Tilting her head to look sideways at the guitarist, Meisa shrugged. “I just felt like making a cake. Is that some sort of crime?”
Noting the ready-status of the spatula, Aoi said quickly, “Of course not, I was just curious.”
“Why don’t you ever feel like making me a cake?”
“Because you don’t have the sweet-tooth needed to properly appreciate one of my cakes,” Meisa replied immediately. “Kitty will eat this right up in one go. You’d have a few bites and then need a break; one piece would give you enough sugar to be set for the week!”
Aoi shrugged. “You could make it less sweet.”
“You can’t just make something like cake ‘less sweet,’ it doesn’t work that way,” Meisa countered with a laugh.
“Just don’t put any icing on it.
“But the icing is the best part!” Meisa announced, appalled that Aoi could think to have cake without icing, especially her cake! Her cake was specifically formulated to make the icing balance perfectly with the cake part.
Aoi just shrugged. “I’ve never really had any that deserved that kind of praise.”
“My icing is the best part,” Meisa affirmed. She gave the mixture she’d been working on a few more swift strokes with her spatula, folding it in on itself with the flair of finality. Then she twirled the spatula out of the mixture, leaving it with a chocolate coating smeared over the side. Lapping a bit of it up with that tempting pink tongue of hers, Meisa smirked in satisfaction, as Aoi fought the urgings of rapidly condensing heat and tension, and said, “Here, taste it.”
“I thought you said no tastes,” Aoi accused.
“No tasting with dirty fingers,” Meisa clarified. “And no tasting before it’s ready.”
She held the spatula up so that Aoi could reach it without any trouble, and watched out of the corner of her eye as his tongue cautiously dipped into the chocolaty concoction.
“That is very sweet,” Aoi commented immediately as he swallowed thickly. “But it’s also very good.” He’d been surprised at the intensity of the taste and how much he’d actually enjoyed the sheer sensation of it.
“Told ya,” Meisa said with a giggle and a smirk as she carefully licked away the few streaks of the chocolate coating that Aoi had left behind.
The sight drove Aoi to tighten his grip on Meisa’s waist, his hands crossing low over her abdomen for his fingers to tap suggestively on her hips. Meisa sighed and smacked him again.
“Not now, I’m busy,” she chided. “The cake is almost ready and I have to make sure it comes out perfectly and ice it while it’s warm.
Aoi glared at the spatula as Meisa nibbled on it thoughtfully, the adorable gesture making it harder and harder for Aoi to resist doing any number of things that would earn him another smack. With Meisa in his arms like this, so physically close, but so mentally distracted, Aoi could easily define his relationship with the spatula as love-hate. For a cooking utensil, it certainly had a lot of power over him.
Eyeing it mistrustfully as Meisa went back to mixing absently, Aoi put his chin back on Meisa’s shoulder and settled in to wait. After she pulled the cake out and the spatula was preoccupied with coating it in icing, Aoi ghosted kisses over Meisa’s neck and jawline. He was very careful to avoid getting in her way, though, as he was not about to subject himself to any more abuse than he had to.
Really, for a cooking utensil, the spatula had a lot of sway over him.
It was responsible for both forcing him to wait, and being the lure that made him willing to. Aoi couldn’t care less about whatever it was that Kitty and Reita were fighting about this time, but every twitch that spatula made had his full attention.