#oumamonth2020

“So! What’re we making?”

“Brownies,” Momota says, turning back to the oven. “First gotta - Kokichi! ”

There’s a sharp thwap! on his hand as he reaches for the oven. The tears come easily, filling his eyes as he pulls away and cradles his hand. “Momota-chan! That was so mean of you!”

“The oven is on!” Momota says, glaring, but then he sighs and mutters, “sorry for hitting you.”

“Apology accepted. This time.”

Momota’s directions are easy enough, leaving Kokichi plenty of time to be a nuisance. Momota reads out the instructions, and Kokichi follows them on a technicality.

“C’mon,” Momota says, pinching the bridge of his nose as Kokichi measures out two cups of sugar using teaspoons.

“You touched your face! Go wash your hands again!” Kokichi says, nudging him with his hip.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Momota grumbles, stomping over. “The next ingredient is vanilla,” he informs him from the sink, as Kokichi adds in the last teaspoon.

“It smells good,” Kokichi comments as he pours it into the teaspoon, and before Momota can stop him he dips his finger in and licks it. “ Eugh ,” he whines, sticking his tongue out. “Why are we adding this in?? It doesn’t even taste good!”

“It does when it’s cooked. It’s got like, a lot of alcohol in it.”

Well, that’s good to know. He’s never had much experience baking - not a lot of access to ovens when you’re constantly on the move. Momota’s a decent teacher. His explanations don’t always make sense, but at least he’s not condescending.

It’s surprisingly fun, baking. Not just the messing with Momota - though, of course, that part is great - but it’s pretty straightforward and it smells good and it’s nice to think about having brownies later. Kokichi’s got a bad sweet tooth, and while Momota manages to hide it, he’s not much better than Kokichi.

Momota shows him how to prepare the baking tray, how to get the batter to spread out evenly, and they split the job of cleaning (licking) the bowl and utensils. Momota wipes down the counters, cleaning the last of the flour off, and then all that’s left is to wait.

Might as well make things more fun.

“So,” Kokichi says, hopping up to sit on the counter Momota just cleaned. “You said something very interesting when I first came in!”

“Did I?” Momota slips off his ridiculous apron and puts it away into the closet. Kokichi makes a mental note of its location before returning to the matter at hand.

“You said, and I quote, I love you from the bottom of my heart. ” He grins at Momota to cover up the fuzzy feeling in his chest. He refuses to call it butterflies - he’s not that much of a loser. He’s Ouma Kokichi, after all, and he’s above things like love and caring.

“Is there a problem with me saying that?” Momota asks, glancing at him from the closet.

“Well, that depends on if it’s true.” He twirls a strand of hair around his finger, and when he looks over Momota is frowning.

“Kokichi, we’re dating ,” he says, furrowing his eyebrows. He moves closer, leaning against the kitchen island across from Kokichi and placing a hand on the countertop. “We live together .”

“Yeah, and? I remember you hating me a lot when we first lived together!”

Momota’s face scrunches up as he tries to use his tiny brain to figure out what Kokichi’s saying, but finally he responds, “Are you talking about the killing game ? Seriously?”

“I’m not wrong,” he says, swinging his legs to kick against the drawers. “You were pretty mean to me back then!”

“Yeah, well, back then you kinda deserved it,” Momota says. He’s not looking at Kokichi as he says it; his gaze is firmly planted on the ground. Interesting.

Kokichi taps his finger to his chin. “So, you stand by punching me in the face back then, but now you love me?”

“You don’t have to say it like that.”

Kokichi beams at him. Momota sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“You were an asshole during the game,” he says. “But hitting you also wasn’t great. So. Sorry about that.”

Kokichi rolls his eyes. “You’ve apologized before.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the one who keeps bringing it up. And anyway, that’s not the point!”

“Then what is the point?”

Momota leans forward, stepping away from the kitchen island and towards Kokichi. He has to look up to meet Kokichi’s eyes.

“I love you,” Momota says, reaching forward to cup Kokichi’s face.

That stupid fluttery feeling in his chest has only gotten stronger, and he can feel his face heat up. He feels ridiculous like this, letting Momota have any influence over him and yet -

And yet -

Momota’s face is so kind, so earnest, and his hands are soft and warm and maybe this is the safest Kokichi has felt in a long time. Maybe he is getting the stupid butterflies in his stomach.

“I hate you,” Kokichi says, and Momota lets out a huff of laughter.

“Is it just me, or have you gotten worse at lying?”

He leans forward, letting his head rest in Momota’s hands, trusting that he’ll support him. Reaching up, he places his hand over Momota’s, tilting his head to the side to kiss it - and, then, to lick it.

“Kokichi,” Momota whines, trying to pull his hand away, but Kokichi keeps it gripped tight.

“You taste like sugar,” he says, a wry grin stretching across his face. “I wonder…?”

Momota rolls his eyes, but he leans forward anyway. His lips taste like chocolate, and Kokichi savors it, waiting until the last possible moment to pull back. Momota has this unbearable look on his face, all heart-eyed and soft, a sappy smile spreading across his face. Kokichi kisses him again.

They’re still kissing when the oven beeps, alerting them that the brownies are done, and Kokichi shoves Momota away eagerly, jumping down from the countertop. Momota catches his wrists, pulling him away from the oven.

“Kokichi! We’ve been over this already, c’mon!”

Kokichi pouts, but doesn’t bother struggling. “Momota-chan! You’re bullying me again.”

“You’re gonna burn your hands off someday,” he mutters, releasing Kokichi’s hands and shoving a pair of oven mitts at him.

Kokichi ends up watching as Momota pulls the tray out of the oven, placing it on top to cool. His oven mitts are, of course, space themed.

“Kokichi. Do not touch,” Momota warns.

He watches as Momota cuts up the brownies, lungeing when he’s done only to be smacked away again. “Still too hot,” Momota tells him.

“Keep me entertained while we wait,” Kokichi says, tugging on his arm.

“You know you can just ask for affection like a normal person, right?”

“Ugh. Absolutely not.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to learn,” Momota says, poking a brownie. “Hm. Should be good.” He picks it up, offering it to Kokichi, who does not take it from him but instead eats it directly from Momota’s hand, like a feral horse.

“What the fuck are you doing,” Momota asks flatly.

“Entertaining myself!”

Momota rolls his eyes. “I’ve got a better idea,” he says, leaning down to place another sugary kiss on Kokichi’s lips. It’s much shorter than the others, as Kokichi quickly pulls away so he can grab another brownie.

“You’re ridiculous,” Momota says as Kokichi shoves an entire brownie into his mouth.

“You love me,” Kokichi says.