Author: Sami-pi
Pairing: established 1x2x1
Rating: PG (for one bad word)
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing, its characters and its trappings, belong to Bandai, Sotsu, and... I was sure there was someone else in there... sorry! ^^;;; Anyway, this fic is not for profit, just for fun.
12:01
I love to eat leftovers.
The flavours have had more time to soak in...it brings back fond memories of meals gone by...I just don't know.
I could wax philosophical about it and make some weird analogy likening this box of leftover rice here to my so-called "tragic" childhood. I could say something about how yesterday's white rice is today's fried rice...how it's all about making something shiny and good out of something passed over and cast aside...shit like that.
But I won't.
Because really, it's a box of rice and I'm going to eat it.
Also, because it's actually not fried rice yet, my analogy would fall flat anyway. In some weird way, I like leftover white rice. But I have to sneak it from our fridge right before we leave for work, because otherwise Heero will berate me for ruining his plans to make fried rice out of it for dinner.
I know, I know... I can see the metaphor coming a mile away. I can smell it coming, even. It's kind of watermelon-y.
But the point is not that Heero has the power to turn what might be one man's garbage into another man's gourmet meal, the point is that I love leftover white rice and he keeps trying to keep me away from it.
So if anyone asks, I'm not sitting here huddled under my desk trying to shovel cold rice into my mouth as fast as possible.
Did I mention that I like it cold too? It's gotta be just the right temperature, though. You can't eat it straight out of the fridge if it's been in there overnight because then it will be too hard. You have to let it sit a little, warm up a bit, and then it takes on this great chewy texture. I know it sounds sketchy, but, well, it's not like I'm asking you to eat it.
"Duo!"
The yell makes me jump and I promptly smack my head into the underside of my desk.
"I know you stole the rice," says Heero, bending down to peer at me. "So come on out of there and eat lunch with me like a normal person."
I crawl out and place my half-full container of rice in his outstretched hand so that he can keep it safe while I haul myself upright. The ol' back's not what it used to be. It's a hard thing, aging.
"Ew, Duo, you're eating it cold? That's disgusting!"
He's going on thirty but he still does this really cute nose-wrinkling thing.
I love it.
More than I love my rice?
Maybe, but I'd have to do a cost/benefit analysis and get back to you on that.
Make that way later.
Laid out on the table before me is the widest leftover spread I've ever seen. There's a mound of roast pork from Chinatown, still in its takeout container, two slices of pizza, still in their box, three kinds of chicken in various sized Tupperware containers, four kinds of pasta, a variety of cooked vegetables, and more rice than you can shake a stick at.
While I'm ogling the food, Heero comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. He rests his chin on my shoulder and gives me a minute just to take it all in.
"But where did this all come from?" I blurted out, so bewildered.
I'd looked in our fridge just this morning!
"Would you believe Santa's elves brought it?" he mumbles in between pressing sweet kisses to my jaw.
"Are those Trowa's barbeque chicken wings? Wufei's pasta? The one with the olives in the sauce? Sally's cheesy potatoes!"
He finally lets me go as I make a lunge for the potatoes.
"Oh my god, I love you more than rice, Heero!"
OWARI
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