˚✶ * Grandma’s Kitchen W/ Oikawa

˚✶ * grandma’s kitchen w/ oikawa

m.list / wc: 726

    the stove’s light is on, barely illuminating the kitchen. you lean against the old marble countertop, spoon scraping the side of a bowl of cool whip. it’s sugary, devoid of much flavor, yet it’s the perfect thing for three in the morning. the cool temperature melts against your tongue, nearly combating with the kitchen tile flooring. and it’s the only sweet thing your grandmother kept around. 

  scraping out the other side, you lick the spoon off quickly, turning around to place it into the dishwasher. it’s cracked open, squeaking as you pull it further open. crinkling your nose, you hope you hadn’t woken away from the sound, the sink starting to run as you wash out your bowl. setting it down, you quickly shut the dishwasher, hoping to diminish the irritating noise.

  turning towards the window, you look out at the dark early morning sky. it’s completely devoid of any life from what you can see, feeling eerie as you stare out of it. “what are you doing up?” a voice whispers from the other side of the kitchen.

  jumping where you stand, you turn to look at the voice, jaw clenched. “you nearly gave me a heart attack,” you bring your hands up to your face, wiping down until they reach your chin, voice coming out as an upset whisper. 

  “apologies, my love,” oikawa reaches his hand out to you, grasping yours over the kitchen island, “can’t sleep?”

  keeping your hand in his, he walks around the kitchen island, growing close to you. pursing your lips, you wonder if you should tell him the truth. you couldn’t sleep with him gone. without his presence and warmth beside you. your grandma, more old fashioned than she’d like to admit, pushed for you to have separate bedrooms. even when you live together full time.

  however, you know what kind of up turned smile he’ll gain if you utter the thought. how he’ll look at you with his lips slightly curled upwards, eyes unable to turn away from you. and that look never fails to get your stomach churning and your lips on his. something you can’t afford to indulge in in your grandmother’s house. 

  “no, it’s just been different,” you look back towards the window, his face leaning towards you in the corner of your eye, lips pressing against your temple.

  “just admit you missed me.”

  looking back at him, you can tell his lips are forming a smile, his hands reaching for your hips. “we are not doing this tooru, i hope you know that this evening is going to be purely pg,” you shake your head, eyes closed as you feel his lips pressing against your temple again.

  oikawa’s hands move to your elbows, taking a step back. clearing his throat, he watches as your eyes open slowly, peeking at him. “i respect your wishes, just know you look stunning tonight. especially when you have cool whip on your upper lip,” he presses a kiss against your lips this time, it’s quick, purely to get the treat off of your upper lip.

  “wow, you’re such a charmer.”

  “it’s the effect of forbidden love, makes everything seem so much more irresistible,” he shrugs, letting go of your elbows, stepping back to give you a little space, to feel your warmth dissipate from his touch.

  raising an eyebrow, you can’t seem to hold your smile back, “forbidden love? i’d hate to see what you’d call it if i ever go out of town for a week.”

  your hand presses against the kitchen counter, the other against your hip. oikawa tilts towards you, hand playing with your fingers against the cool surface. his thumb runs along the back of your hand, unable to keep his hands off of you. looking more radiant than he’s ever thought you have before. “i’d probably have to pull a romeo or something.”

  “let’s root for ‘or something’ then,” you keep eye contact with him, probably your first mistake.

  your gaze flickers to his lips, hand moving from your hip to his, lips unable to stop themselves from meeting his. you still taste the sweetness of the cool whip, yet you feel the softness of his lips. they move synchronously with your lips, his nose brushing against yours. “i did miss you,” you drift back, whispering inches from his lips. 

  “i can tell.”

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