This is just a little thing. I read in a Fruits Basket fan book that Yuki's sooo terrible at cooking, and that he's really clumsy with his hands. And he can't admit he sucks at cooking. So I decided to do a little somefink with that. And this was born. It's also just to play with characters and relationships. Please tell me what you think! Oh, and they're really short, which is kind of good, I think.
Chapter One
Yuki smiled at his girlfriend, Machi. She blushed slightly, tucking her hair behind her ear and shyly returning the grin. She really was beautiful, in an understated way. Her brown hair was sleek and shiny, and her dark eyes held a little sparkle that not many people could see. He leaned over and kissed her cheek.
"Hey," he whispered. "I have a present for you."
She stared at him patiently, her brown eyes curious.
His smile grew. "I have cooked us a wonderful, romantic dinner."
Machi's eyes lit up. "Really?" She'd been wondering why he'd invited her over to his house on such short notice; she was touched by the gesture. "I didn't know you could cook."
Yuki laughed uneasily, rubbing the back of his neck — a nervous habit. "Heh, about that. . . ."
She shook her head. "It'll be fine."
"Hah!" From the next room over — which Yuki had told her was where his cousin Shigure slept— came the sound of a derisive snort.
"What . . . ?" she wondered aloud, glancing toward Shigure's room.
"Nothing," Yuki replied. "Trust me."
Machi was then distracted when he kissed her, gently cupping her face in his hands. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him toward her, marveling in how happy she was, and how much she loved him, and how much he loved her, and —
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP!
Machi pulled away, surprised. "What is that?" she murmured.
Yuki looked confused for a moment. Then he swore, leapt off the couch and sprinted for the kitchen. "The turkey!"
She followed him. It was completely filled with smoke. On the ceiling the fire alarm was going crazy. "This doesn't look good," she muttered to herself, then coughed as more smoke poured from the oven. Yuki had cautiously opened the oven door, and peered in. Putting on some oven mitts he found lying in the sink, he pulled out the turkey.
"OW!" The wet oven mitts conducted way more heat than he thought possible. Shouting obscenities, he dropped the turkey on the counter and stared at it. Machi poked the charred black lump with a fork. It made a wet, squishy sound.
"It's . . . gelatinous." She looked up at him. "What did you do to it?"
Yuki shrugged. "I just did what the instructions said." He pointed at the oven. "I blame the oven."
Machi sighed. She went over to the counter. "Yuki, how long were you supposed to cook it?"
"An hour, I think."
"Yeah. You set the timer for ten hours." She laughed and patted his shoulder. "Do you always suck this much at cooking?"
"Yes." The answer came from an attractive young man with long black hair. He was dressed in very traditional clothes. "You should see the things he's managed to screw up. It's pathetic! First, there was the curry fiasco —"
"Shigure," Yuki said in a dangerously low voice. "What did I tell you was the one thing I wanted you to do tonight?"
Shigure looked puzzled. "Stay the hell away from you two?" he asked.
"So you understand that?"
Shigure nodded.
"So what is wrong with this picture?" Yuki gestured to indicate the entire situation.
Shigure wrinkled his nose. "That turkey smells like burned feet?"
Yuki glared at Shigure, who smiled in mock enlightenment. "Ah, yes. I am in your way, aren't I? So sorry about that." He shrugged, leaning against the doorway. "However, since I'm here, why don't I keep you two company? I'll be like . . . a chaperone. Keep you from being inappropraite toward this lovely young high school girl --"
Yuki stepped toward his cousin. "Get out, or I will beat you within an inch of your life," he whispered, so that Machi wouldn't hear.
Shigure cocked his head to the side. "How would you measure that, exactly?"
"Get OUT!" He threw the protesting Shigure out of the room. "Sorry about him. He's . . ." Yuki shook his head. "Impossible." He turned back to the turkey. "Maybe we can still salvage it —"
Machi took his hand, leading him towards the door. "Let's go out," she suggested.
"Yeah, let me just clean this up."
"Don't let him do it, Machi!" Shigure's voice floated into the kitchen. "He's even worse at cleaning up than he is at cooking!"
Machi stepped forward hastily. "I'll do it." Although, she was no better at cleaning than Yuki was. She picked up the pan, then groaned. "You didn't put something down under the pan," she told him.
"And that's . . . bad?"
She held up the pan to show him. On the counter were four black scorch marks.
He winced. "Oops. I'll get that." He dug through a cabinet and found some sort of cleaning spray. "How do I turn this — whoa!" The soapy spray hit him in the face. Spluttering and swearing, he wiped off his face, glaring at the bottle.
Machi grabbed his hand again. "Let's go out," she repeated, and dragged him out of the kitchen.
It's . . . a little slow. But i think it's funny. I may be the only person in world who does, but who cares? please review! there is no reason not to.