─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Surprisingly enough a few days have passed since your initial meeting with all the boys. Everyone seemed quite unique in their own way and you appreciated how honest they all were, of course there were awkward moments...but nothings perfect.

Swinging your legs lightly underneath the chair you sat in a soft hum had left your lips, your thoughts wondered to each member of the group somewhat organizing them from most talked to to least. Mista and Narancia were fairly friendly and easy to get along with from what you've experienced, while Fugo was more reserved and conversations between the two of you were pleasant. With Abbacchio you had yet to engage in a proper conversation, the man intimidated the shit out of you, just simply because it seemed as though every time you made eye contact his default look was a glare.

Now Bucciarati on the other hand was definitely someone who was very easy going, being able to converse no matter the topic. Although he was busy majority of the time you found interactions with him very pleasing and often enjoyed the casual talk that'd begun between the two of you.

They all just made you feel right at home.

A yawn quickly tore through your train of thought seemingly reminding you of what time it was. Your eyes trailed towards the very early morning rays slinking in through the curtain and a hum left your lips. Sleeping in had been something you couldn't seem to do lately, instead waking up at the crack of dawn almost every morning.

It was an odd occurrence but it gave you time to reflect on everything as well as gather your own thoughts. Thoughts like what everyone's stand actually looked since you've only really been told their names and abilities. Though you supposed it was sort of the same with your own stand.

Some things are just hard to explain without a proper demonstration.

Covering up another yawn you took a quick peek at the time, it wasn't as early as when you'd first woke up allowing you to feel alright if you accidentally woke anybody up. Which led to you slipping into the hallway and down towards where the kitchen was, your eyes scouring the shelves and fridge tugging out a few things. You felt like it'd be a nice gesture to make breakfast for everyone, but the task would be a bit tricky trying to remain as quiet as you could.

Measuring out some flour, sugar, salt and a few other things into a bowl you quietly mixed everything together till a sort of thick batter was formed. Setting the bowl aside and rummaging through one of the cupboards you pulled out a pan setting it down on top of the stove waiting for it to heat up. Shifting from side to side while waiting for the pan to heat up you failed to notice the soft footsteps treading down the hall, nearly getting scared out of your skin as someone spoke.

"What are you doing?" Snapping your head towards who'd spoken your gaze locked with purple hues and a relieved breath left your lips.

"Jesus you scared me." Scrunching up your nose to emphasize your point a huff followed before you answered the blond's previous question. "To answer your question I'm making breakfast." Returning your focus back to the stove you greased the pan before plopping some decently sized dollops into the pan.

"Oh, I didn't know you cooked." Making his way around the kitchen island and leaning over your shoulder lightly to see what you were doing, his bangs lightly brushed against the side of your face ever so faintly.

"Yeah, I mean it's something I taught myself to do since I was little." Humming that out you tried to ignore how he watched you flip each now browning pancake or how in the early morning rays his eyes appeared more vibrant. "Though why so surprised?"

Not realizing that the tone of voice he used when asking if you cooked sounded so surprised he pulled back choosing to lean against the island, "Well it's just I'm usually the one who cooks around here. Bucciarati does occasionally as well but he's busy most of the time." Watching you give a nod to what he was saying you held out a plate towards the blond offering a stack of pancakes, to which he gratefully accepted.

"What about the other three? Do they not cook?"

Shaking his head almost too quickly you raised a brow, "Mista tries to cook once in a while but it's not the greatest, Abbacchio just doesn't cook much, and Narancia is banned from the kitchen." Stepping over to the fridge and pulling out some fruits the blond added on seemingly knowing what question you wanted to ask. "He set the microwave on fire once."

"Well...twice."

Letting out a laugh at that and continuing to make more pancakes it seemed as thought the two of you were able to roll into a casual conversation.

"So.. does it bother you that you're the only one cooking most of the time?" Peeking back and gesturing a bit with the spatula in hand you pursed your lips. He seemed like the type of person who wouldn't mind helping out when he could, that or maybe it was just because someone specific had given the task to him.

"Not really, I actually find waking up early in the morning quite peaceful. No loud noises that's for sure." Almost mimicking how you move the spatula around he did the same but with a fork before plopping the piece of pancake among the end into his mouth. "And you could say it's kind of nostalgic."

"Nostalgic? How so?"

"I guess you could say it was something I used to do as a kid, not often but enough to stick with me now." Moving his gaze away from the back of your head towards the front window a sigh left his lips, his childhood wasn't the best to say the least and he often found friendships tricky to maintain.

Especially seeing as he had...minor anger issues.

"Well if it makes you feel good then I won't steal the job away from you." Humming that out and flicking the stove off you flashed the blond a reassuring smile. You weren't quite sure what he was thinking, but through your years of studying you were able to somewhat read people, and Fugo at the moment seemed lost in thought.

Trailing over to where the table was to set out some fruits and the plate of pancakes you leaned across the kitchen island just beside the boys plate, you shin rested along the marbled counter as you stared up at him tapping your finger on the edge of his place. "If you want to, that is. I can always help you cook too if you'd like strawberry boy."

Quickly returning from his thoughts he just barely registered whatever you had said before 'strawberry boy'. A subtle almost unnoticeable pink hue drifted over his cheeks before he turned his head away letting out a short puff of air, "I- well it wouldn't bother me if you wanted to help. I can't stop you from helping." Internally screaming at himself for stumbling over his words his gaze trailed back to where you were, the smile across your expression caused him to swallow stiffly, "I mean if you want to, you don't have to."

"Don't overthink it, I'll help you when you need it. There's no problem there." Giving a soft laugh at his expression you pulled back standing back up from your leaned over position, the soft smile still lingering across your expression shifted into a closed lipped one.

"I'd love to cook with you sometime."

Staring at you as you spoke he could feel his expression soften and a closed lipped smile spread across his features. He would have commented on your statement if not for the two thundering footsteps quickly making their way towards the kitchen. The smell of pancakes presumably being the cause.

Though in response the blond gave you a subtle nod in affirmation towards you.

He'd like that.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Y/N when Fugo Spooked her: