#3327

Tsuna hears nothing for weeks. Day after day, he carefully checks his voicemail when he comes home from work, and day after day, there’s nothing except the occasional missed call from his mother. He just about gives the whole thing up as a scam when he wakes up on a Saturday morning to someone pounding on his door. 

He yawns, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “What time is it?” he asks blearily and turns his alarm clock so he can read it better. “Six-thirty?!” No wonder the light coming in his windows was still a weak, pale, barely-illuminating gray. The pounding continues.

“I’m coming. I’m coming,” Tsuna mutters. He grabs a bathrobe on his way out of his room, slinging it on over his bare shoulders. “Who the hell knocks on someone’s door at six in the morning?”

His professional fake boyfriend apparently.

“Good morning to the EXTREME!” The man standing on Tsuna’s doorstep is tall, enough that Tsuna has to tip his head back a bit to look him in the face. Gray curls glisten in the morning light, and equally gray eyes are forced almost closed by the strength of his smile. He wears a red tracksuit and smells like dried sweat- who the hell works out before dawn?!

“Uh… good morning?”

Apparently that was all the invitation his fake boyfriend needed to push past him into his house, leaving his shoes on the rack by the door and excitedly babbling about making him breakfast. Tsuna follows this stranger through his own house in a daze. Despite the volume, he can’t seem to hear a single word out of the man’s mouth, nor does he get the chance to butt in and direct the conversation in any way. 

Instead, he’s left to watch as a stranger opens all of his cabinets and gathers the supplies for a hearty breakfast. At six-thirty in the morning.

His fingers find the phone in is cradle, and he picks it up, dialing the company number from all those weeks ago. His… boyfriend… doesn’t seem to notice, just keeps on chattering and cooking away. 

The line clicks. “Moshi moshi! Thank you for calling 1-800-LEAP! How can Haru help you today?”

“Hello, this is Sawada Tsunayoshi.” He pauses, then adds, “Again.”

“Ah! Sawada-san! How can we help you this morning?”

“Um… my boyfriend just showed up out of the blue and is currently cooking me breakfast… I don’t even know his name,” Tsuna says quietly. No matter how awkward the situation was, he doesn’t want to insult the man currently waving a scoop at the rice machine as if lightly threatening it will make it cook faster.

It’s actually kind of cute now that he thinks about it.

“Oh my! Haru is so sorry, that is completely unacceptable, if not entirely surprising, behavior! We will absolutely recall Sasagawa-san and arrange a different fake boyfriend for you.”

The rice machine beeps, and Sasagawa-san beams at it and gives it a pat before opening it and scooping the rice out into a pair of mismatched bowls from Tsuna’s cupboards. On the stove, a pan of eggs pops in oil. The smell of the warm rice and egg begins to fill the kitchen, and Tsuna’s stomach rumbles.

It’s… been awhile since someone has cooked breakfast for Tsuna. And right now, Sasagawa-san is standing in his kitchen, waging a fierce battle against the mason jar lid holding Tsuna’s pickled vegetables hostage.

“Actually, Haru-san,” Tsuna says, interrupting the representative. “I think I’d like to continue with Sasagawa-san, if it’s all the same to you. I was just surprised this morning.”

“Oh well,” Haru hems and haws for a moment. “If you’re sure, Sawada-san. Please remember that you can call us at any time, and we will arrange a replacement for you.”

“I’m sure, but I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Haru-san.” Tsuna sets the phone back on its cradle just as the top pops! off the mason jar in Sasagawa-san’s hand. 

“AHA! That was an EXTREMELY tight lid, Sawada-san! You must be EXTREMELY strong to tighten it so well!” The brightness of Sasagawa-san’s grin is almost brighter than the dawn light that is finally breaking through the curtains behind him. 

Tsuna would be lying if he said it didn’t take his breath away just a bit, and he pushes that thought deep down and locks it away. This isn’t real, he’s just doing his job. “Ah, I guess so,” he says, rubbing the back of his head. “I, uh, didn’t catch your name?”

For a brief moment, Sasagawa-san looks like he ran into a telephone pole. A bright red flush spreads from his cheeks all over his face and to the tips of his ears as he curls in on himself a bit. “Hehehe, I must have EXTREMELY forgotten to introduce myself.” He straightens, “Sasagawa Ryohei, at your service!” Then he bows deeply still holding the jar of pickles.

“AH! Sasagawa-san! The pickles!” Tsuna lunges for the mason jar as the pickling juice begins trickling out, but he only succeeds in slamming his forehead against Sasagawa-san’s.

  Together they land smack on their asses on the tile. The jar shatters, sending glass shards and vegetables everywhere. Tsuna exchanges a wide-eyed look with Sasagawa-san as the vinegar seeps into his pajama pants. A smoky undertone accents the smell of the vinegar filling Tsuna’s nose.

Smoky… no, burning… THE EGGS!

Sasagawa clearly has a similar train of thought because as Tsuna reaches up to turn the stove off, he leaps to his feet and takes the frying pan off the burner. Crisis averted, Tsuna rests his head against the oven door with a heavy sigh. “So much for a warm breakfast,” he mutters.

Sasagawa barks a laugh above his head. “We’ll just have to be EXTREMELY quick in cleaning the glass up then!”