Hiro thought that Shuichi looked rather distracted during practice. The small, pink-haired boy just couldn't concentrate on the music, even when K pointed a gun point-blank at him--even shot a couple of times. Finally, Suguru stormed out in frustration, and Sakano followed, trying to placate him. It was, all in all, a normal practice.

"What's bothering you, Shuichi?" Hiro asked as he was packing up. Shuichi sighed, looking up from where he had sat down in the corner.

"I don't know what kind of cake to get Yuki!" he whined.

"Um…a cake?" Hiro suggested, confused.

"But which flavor? Strawberry, chocolate or vanilla? With chocolate or vanilla or strawberry icing? With chunks of chocolate or not? With powdered sugar on top? With fruit? No icing at all? A fruit tart, or a cookie-cake? Does he like them home-made or bought? Does he like store-bought icing? Does--"

"Okay, okay, I get the picture," Hiro said, cutting Shuichi off. It was bad enough hearing him whine, but hearing him worry about a cake? It was absurd. "Just get him a vanilla cake with chocolate icing."

"What if he wants strawberries?"

"Then put on strawberries."

"But what if he doesn't want strawberries?"

"Then don't put on strawberries."

"But I don't know!"

"Then choose!"

Shuichi started sniffling, and Hiro thought fast to find something to stop the vocalist from crying. "How about you coordinate the rest of the meal and whatever else with the cake."

Shuichi stopped sniffling and considered. "Like, make the food and desert chocolate-y, and the cake chocolate-y, and then everything else chocolate-y?"

"Yeah."

"That's a good idea!"

"I know." Hiro swelled up proudly.

"But which flavor should I base it around?" Shuichi started to sniffle.

"Something exotic," Hiro said quickly.

"Like what?"

"Um….wait," Hiro snapped, getting inspiration. "You said he liked strawberry shortcake best, right?"

"Yeah…."

"Well, that's a type of cake. Get that, and then base the rest of your meal around it."

"Um….Hiro…I can't cook."

Hiro sweatdropped. "…right…"

There was silence, Shuichi's sniffling the only sound to be heard.

"Hire a caterer?"

"That's not special, Hiro!"

There was silence once more.

"I can help if you want," Hiro offered. Shuichi brightened instantly.

"Really? Would you?" Shuichi asked, glowing.

"Sure," Hiro said nonchalantly. Shuichi threw his arms around him.

"Thank you thank you thank you!!" he cried, then tugged Hiro toward the door. Hiro barely had time to grab the handle of his guitar case before he was hauled off.

Shuichi and Hiro spent the entire day cooking. Hiro was thankful that Shuichi knew a half-cup from a full-cup, never mind that he thought sugar and salt the same. Shuichi was more worried about Yuki coming home early from the meeting with his editor.

The kitchen ended up a mess, but the cake was set, frosted and decorated; dinner done and cooked and arranged; and after-dinner activities (unbeknownst to Hiro) were set up and ready to begin.

Hiro said a short goodbye and--after cleaning the kitchen--he left. Shuichi waited on the couch for Yuki, the birthday dinner ready in the next room.

Yuki ran a hand through his hair, exhausted. The meeting with his editor hadn't gone very well. He was behind schedule again. He blamed it on Shuichi. As always.

Sliding his key into the lock, Yuki sighed. He didn't feel like dealing with his pink-haired lover at the moment; he was too tired. And he knew that Shuichi was right behind the door, waiting for him to come through it. He almost wished he was still at the meeting, getting yelled at.

Finally, he unlocked the door and stepped through, bracing himself for the typical, "Yuuuuuukiiii!" and flying tackle. But they never came. Yuki opened his eyes.

The apartment was dark and eerily silent. It was unnerving. Yuki slid off his shoes, and then threw his coat on the sofa. "Shuichi?" he called. No answer.

He began walking through the rooms of his apartment, yet finding them all dark and empty. The last room was his bedroom. Hesitantly, he opened the door. It was dark…

But the room was clean, the bed made, everything in its proper place. Then there was a scriitch and a single match was lit. Yuki looked over, alarmed. Two candles were being lit, by one very unexpected person.

"Shuichi?" Yuki asked in disbelief.

"Happy Birthday, Yuki," Shuichi replied, a smile on his face. Yuki stood shocked; with the meeting he had forgotten all about his birthday! "Sit down," Shuichi offered, sliding into a seat himself.

Yuki sat down across from him.

The table was set for two, plates filled with a still-steaming dinner. There were two candles beside, filling the air with the sweet scent of strawberries. Yuki finally examined the food he would be eating.

It was a strawberry crepe, with chopped strawberries and chocolate syrup as filling, and strawberry-chocolate syrup drizzled on the top, and powdered sugar. On the left side, towards the top, was a chocolate-covered strawberry, full and red and looking delicious. Yuki breathed in appreciatively. "It's--" Yuki cut himself off, looking suspiciously at Shuichi, "Did you make this?"

Shuichi nodded.

Yuki hid his apprehension with a raised eyebrow. Shuichi smiled obliviously. "Try it," the younger urged.

Despite his dread, and his mistrust of Shuichi and the word "cook" in the same thought, Yuki picked up his fork and cut off a piece of the crepe. Slowly, not slow enough to seem hesitant, but slow enough for him to steel himself, he put the piece in his mouth. Flavor--delicious, succulent and sweet--burst in his mouth, assaulting his senses. He had to stifle a gasp. He swallowed. "This is…good," Yuki said, trying very hard to keep the surprised out of his voice.

Shuichi giggled. "It should be. I worked hard on it!"

Yuki couldn't hide his smile this time. "I…know."

Shuichi's smile broadened, and Yuki felt himself warm with the knowledge that he could do that to his little lover.

Quietly, they both began to eat. The silence didn't last long, however, when Shuichi began to talk. Yuki found that he wasn’t able to be sharp or short with him, and was a bit surprised he didn’t want to. Dinner was a happy time, for both.

And neither would ever forget the night after.

.O.W.A.R.I.

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