Set sometime way after the series, after the crew have graduated.

"Sakurako…"

The blonde in question knew, from experience, the many tones of Himawari Furutani. There was the tired, yet adorable 'Sakurako…' as the bluenette cuddled into her in the early morning. There was the angry, unrestrained 'Sakurako…' as she raised her fist menacingly. There was the passionate, throaty 'Sakurako…' as she would run her fingers through the blonde's hair, pulling the two closer to each other.

That last one was definitely Sakurako's favorite variation.

…sadly, this wasn't one of those. This 'Sakurako…' was coming from a Himawari who was very much pissed off at her girlfriend.

"Eheheh, sorry. In my defense, I didn't think that-"

Himawari cut her off. "You somehow let stew burn. Stew. Literally - literally - the easiest thing in the world to cook." The bluenette crossed her arms over her (sizeable, Sakurako noted as she took a cursory peek) chest, raising an eyebrow at the blonde as if daring her to say something.

"W-Well, I added all the ingredients exactly the way you told me to," Sakurako began her explanation, hoping to avoid Himawari's wrath, "then I looked up at the clock and I noticed it was already 3:07 and you know how One Punch Man airs at 3 so I rushed off and I kinda forgot to put the lid on..." Sakurako trailed off, the rest of her 'explanation' dying at the back of her throat.

"How are we supposed to feed eight people now?!" Himawari asked the blonde, throwing her hands in the air.

"That's why I said you should've cooked, you idiot!" Sakurako retorted.

"You never said that!" Himawari exclaimed, "and I did offer! It was you that said: 'Don't worry, Himawari! Even I can cook stew!', you idiot!"

"Well, you should've known not to trust me with something like this!"

"That- that doesn't even make sense! So you're saying it's my fault that I let you be responsible for once!?"

"Well, it's your fault for suggesting stew, of all things!"

The two glared at each other, sparks forming between their eyes. A halo of fire surrounded the two as the rest of the room was caught in an inferno. Their neighbour - a quiet, well-mannered twenty year old female hailing from Okinawa - looked up from her laptop in worry. The Ministry of Land and Infrastructure debated lowering oil prices for hybrid cars.

Himawari sighed and looked away, choosing to admit temporary defeat - if it meant they could feed the crew of six making their way here for dinner. "Well, it's…" Looking up at their clock on the wall, she recoiled when she noticed that the hour hand was entirely too vertical, "...5:40 ish, which means we have just under two hours. What can we cook in two hours?"

"Grilled chicken?" Sakurako suggested, her go-to "easy meal" for when the bluenette wouldn't be home for some reason. Himawari sighed. Well, it would have to do.

One hastily prepared chicken later, the duo lay down on their couch - a large, plushy three seater that was an appalling shade of red - tending to… more important things.

For example, Sakurako was currently busy with trying to satisfy the Himawari under her.

The blonde was straddling the bluenette's lap, her face buried within the crook of Himawari's neck, her lips busy with whatever piece of skin it could get to. Himawari moaned out loud, tightening her arms over the blonde, who reciprocated equally as fervently.

BOOM!

"Ah!" The two, startled, jumped away from each other, but due to the nature of Sakurako's position, jumping away meant she fell onto the floor (in a spectacular fashion, nonetheless.)

"...What was that?" Himawari asked, throwing a hand out to help Sakurako up.

"No idea, but it came from the kitchen…" The duo, in a simultaneous moment of intense clarity, looked at each other, and paled. The smell of half-grilled chicken filled their nostrils, making Sakurako - if she was being honest - kinda hungry.

Himawari, however, was clearly more worried about other things, and also probably regretting ever agreeing to host their yearly reunion dinner. And trusting Sakurako to cook said dinner this year. But most of all, she regretted buying that budget oven - whose glass pane now lay in shards on their kitchen floor.

The next easiest thing to cook - and quickly, for the clock was fast approaching seven - would be pasta.

Himawari started with the sauce, setting a pot of water to boil while she diligently sliced up tomatoes, onions, and (much to her personal chagrin) bell peppers. No, she was not taking out her frustration at Sakurako (both for her incompetence… and not bothering to finish what she started on the couch) on the innocent vegetables.

She was taking it out on the chopping board, of course.

Sakurako, on the other hand, was in charge of preparing the actual pasta, a job Himawari claimed 'Even someone like you could do'. She stirred the noodles inside her pot, finally using a fork to lift some out of the pot. She tapped Himawari on the shoulder, raising the swirl of spaghetti to the bluenette's mouth while making airplane sounds.

"Open wide, Himawari!" The girl in question rolled her eyes at the blonde's antics, but nevertheless did as the girl asked, biting down on the fork and pulling off the roll.

"Guh!" She spit the spaghetti - if it could even be called that - into her palm, throwing it into the sink. "What in the… what did you do this time, Sakurako?" Himawari accused.

"Nothing!" Sakurako replied, flustered. "I've literally just added the noodles to the pot!"

"Let me see the packet." Himawari said. She grabbed the blue packet and turned it over, looking for… aha. 23/10/2013, the expiry date read.

"You idiot, this thing's been expired for years!" Himawari showed the number to the blonde, who scratched her head in embarrassment. "I might've read that as 2018…" Sakurako admitted, "You know, that might be why it's the last packet in the drawer…"

Himawari found the nearest vertical surface - the fridge, in this case - and repeatedly hit her head against it.

"I-" bang "-give-" bang "-up."

"...so, pizza?"

Himawari sighed. "Didn't we do that two years ago?"

"...Maybe?" Though that was another story for another day.

"You know what, screw it, sure." For the second time that day, Himawari admitted defeat. "I mean, the last time we went over to Ayano's, Kyouko served us pancakes for dinner. And Chinatsu, bless her, can't cook for shit. We might as well drop the whole 'cooking' thing this year."

Sakurako, surprised at her girlfriend's profanity, gingerly wrapped her arms around the bluenette.

"It'll be alright, Himawari." She said, rubbing small circles along the bluenette's back, just like she always would when Himawari got really stressed.

"Sorry…" Himawari groaned, returning the hug with full force, "I'm just so stressed about this, I guess. But I guess it doesn't matter - we're just doing these reunion things to catch up with everyone again, anyway."

"Well," Sakurako began, slyly, "I know of a way we could release some of that stress…"

"Believe me, Sakurako, I'd love to, but we have like…" She glanced up at the clock for the umpteenth time that day, "twenty minutes left before they all start showing up."

"I'm a fast worker." Sakurako said, a mischievous smile on her face, "And besides, Ayano and Kyouko clearly didn't have any qualms about that the last time we went over."

Himawari forcefully shook her head at the images that were beginning to resurface. "I'm still trying to get over that, Sakurako." Never again would they be early to Ayano's place.

"I'm still surprised that Ayano's the one who tops, though." Sakurako teased.

Himawari wisely chose not to respond, preferring to occupy the blonde's mouth with her own.

Dinner could wait for Himawari to get her own fill, anyway.

Well, that was fun. Random lil' plot bunny. HimaSaku is just too damn cute, damnit.