pslplz | Futureverse

Cooking has never been Taiyou's forte. In fact, her culinary repertoire is even tinier than Yuushi's (which is, let's face it, not very big). But it's not for lack of talent, she thinks. If she put her mind to it, she could probably do okay. But Mamoru seems happy enough to slave over a stove, and Taiyou is even happier to encourage it. Besides, she cleans up afterward and even packs the leftovers into tupperware. And she's the resident sommelier of sorts, matching up each of their meals with the perfect wine. She's excellent at that.

Today she's pulled a nice Chablis and is already in the process of uncorking it as she waits for Mamoru to put the finishing touches on their dinner.

"There must be a world out there where you're some sort of secret agent," she says thoughtfully.

Cooking dinner was a strange comfort for Mamoru. It was familiar, and still gave him the same sense of satisfaction that it had in his youth, when he made things for his mom. There had been internal gratification in being able to provide her a hearty meal, to contribute in a way that didn't just make her life more convenient but met a daily need. It wasn't his passion, and he would never be a master chef, but he couldn't deny it was handy to be competent in the kitchen.

His wife is the beneficiary of his skill now. With both of them employed full-time, division of labor at home was unavoidable. It worked out well; Mamoru would far rather make the mess in the kitchen than clean it up. Tonight's mess produced a dinner of poached fish with a cream-based sauce served on a bed of rice with crisp steamed vegetables on the side. He turns off the heat for the vegetables and lifts one of the fish fillets from its hot bath to place over the rice, then the other.

Taiyou's musing catches him a bit by surprise, and he can't help a light laugh. "And you would be my femme fatale?"

Really-- secret agent! Where did that come from? Mamoru doesn't see it. He wasn't nearly cool enough for something like that.

Now it's Taiyou's turn to be surprised. So much so that she pauses after popping the bottle open and waves the cork around for emphasis.

"Your femme fetale? You must be kidding! I'm not nearly as seductive as that," she says with energy. But she thinks on this a little more, tapping the cork against her chin.

"No, I think I'm much more suited as ... your Quartermaster." Yes, definitely the gadgets expert, brrainy and quirky ... and alive! The femme fetale usually ends up dead in these sorts of movies, don't they? She nods and steps up to the counter, waiting for the plates to finish so she can help bring them to the table.

"Besides, I think 'Q' makes a fine codename. Don't you agree?"

"I beg to differ!" Mamoru interjects through a smile at her assertion she isn't seductive enough to pull off the femme fatale role. Of course he's going to disagree with a self-deprecating comment like that. Part of it is learned survival strategy, but he has the pleasure and ease of sincerity on his side here as well. Taiyou may not present as blatantly seductive, but she was intelligent, witty and beautiful, and thus perfectly capable of it. And she had a proven track record with him.

He gives a final stir to the sauce in the pan on the back burner and pours it over the two fillets, then splits the vegetables between the plates. Taiyou isn't wrong with her counterproposal; she'd make a good Quartermaster too. It just sort of ruins the fantasy.

"Maybe. How about we compromise: you're a femme fatale with the codename Q. You get the nice codename, and I still get to see you in a cocktail dress."

With a twinkle in his eyes and a soft grin on his face, he offers her one of the plates.

"Cocktail dress! Now you really do sound like a spy," Taiyou says with an exaggerated arch of her brow that seems to suggest she doesn't exactly mean it in a complimentary manner. James Bond, after all, is known to get around. Can he ever keep it zipped up around a woman he finds attractive?

"Hmph."

She reaches behind him and pinches his behind for his cheekiness. Then she takes the plate he offers and turns back to set it on the dining table. She pulls up a chair and sits.

"I should have you know," she says as she pours out the Chablis into two waiting glasses, "that I was imagining a much more accomplished secret agent for you. Not some man-child with fancy cars who sleeps his way around his missions. I just think you've got hidden talents that could be put to use. Like your way around kitchen knives."

Mamoru laughs. What was the fun of that? Spy characters like James Bond were meant to appeal to fantasies about being cool, clever, surrounded by sexy women, rich, and loaded with special gadgets.

He takes a moment to verify everything is turned off and moves the mess of pans and utensils to the dishwasher counter for loading later. Then he follows Taiyou to the table with his own plate.

"There's nothing special about my knife-wielding," he says modestly. "It's just practice." That was the truth, after all. Perhaps it looked impressive from the outside; Mamoru wouldn't know. He had gotten fairly fast, but that was, as he'd said, a product of practice.

"What about you as the secret agent? Clever, daring and quick on your feet. I could see that, too."

Taiyou slides a filled wine glass across the table at him as she ponders his suggestion.

"I'm not sure. I can be quite temperamental, you know. If I have to infiltrate an evil organization, I might just end up going off on someone right as they're divulging to me all their nefarious plots! I'd blow my cover and then would have to shoot my way through enemy agents." She smirks.

"Well that could be entertaining, too," Mamoru says through an amused smile and a sip of wine. "I might enjoy watching someone else be on the receiving end of such a diatribe."

Though Mamoru likes to think he's gotten better... mostly. He might still overstep a line once in a while, but maybe that was part of what kept things exciting between them. Taiyou was a firecracker for certain.

"I'm not sure I like the way you describe my temperament," Taiyou says with a dubious gaze. She means it teasingly mostly. But she also thinks 'diatribe' has a bitter sound to it. She does know they don't always get along, but surely he doesn't find her bitter...? She hopes. She can be strangely uncertain about it sometimes, even after all these years.

Wasn't she the one who brought up the possibility of her going off on someone? Mamoru doesn't think he'll ever get the hang of how women converse. He holds up a hand with a sheepish grin in an effort to defuse the comment then and there. Teasing or not, it feels a bit dangerous to continue. He'd rather not have a real fight that evening.

"I just mean that you have a lot of passion to share. That's not a bad thing." Usually.

She'd argue that the wording is completely different! Anyway, it also sounds a lot worse when it's coming from your husband versus your own lips.

"I should hope not. I might have a bit of it," she admits this much.

She cuts into the main dish and takes a bite. Mmm! Mamoru, you have outdone yourself.

Mamoru doesn't comment any further on that subject, since it sounds like Taiyou is ready to let go of his blunder and the last thing he wants to do is draw more attention to it.

"Did it turn out? It's a Parmesan/Romano blend in the sauce this time." Normally the recipe called for straight Parmesan.

"Whatever you did, it's amazing," she says, twirling her fork with flourish. Parmesan, Romano, she's not entirely sure what the difference is, but Mamoru clearly knows what he is doing. This is why he does the cooking in this household! Taiyou could probably manage if she had to, but it wouldn't turn out like this.

"I hope you made extra. I might just eat several plates!"

"I'm afraid I didn't this time; I'll make a note to use the blend from now on. I'm glad you like it." And since it wouldn't do to not know himself, Mamoru takes that opportunity to test a bite from his own plate.

"Mmm, I agree, it's much better this way. The Romano really brings out the cheese flavor in the sauce."

"Forget secret agent. Maybe you're a master chef in another life," Taiyou says with a laugh.

"Seriously though, I'm sure the possibilities are endless. What would you hope for of your other selves? What do you think they're like?"

Well, master chef sounds more plausible than secret agent, at least. Mamoru pauses to reflect on Taiyou's question.

"All I can hope is that they're happy, and that they've dedicated themselves towards meaningful causes." After a beat, he looked up and smiled. "And that I'm with you. From the life I have here, it's hard to imagine any of those things as separable from the other two. What about you?"

"You're such a romantic, Mamoru," she says with a warm laugh. Given the realities of parallel universes, she knows that it's actually far more likely that they don't know each other at all in these other worlds. But she doesn't point this out. Mamoru probably already knows this full well.

"Me ... I think I must be some sort of explorer in at least one universe. Maybe the first woman on Mars? Or to make first contact with an alien species?"

Mamoru, of course, knows the odds of their being together in another universe are astronomically small, but it's still a nice thought to hold on to.

"I could see that. Or maybe the princess-gone-rogue? Breaking out of a sheltered but predetermined fate for the sake of pursuing your own goals?"

"Ahahahah. I would be a rogue princess. I would make a terrible diplomat. You, on the other hand, can be rather adept at that. I'm sure of it."

Mamoru always did have the gift of subtlety. Taiyou, not so much.

"I don't know about that," Mamoru modestly answered. "Frankly, I would prefer not to be involved in politics at all." Knowing what was happening was important, but immersion seemed to make a person angry and scared all the time. That doesn't seem like a healthy or happy life to him.

"Can I run away with the princess instead?"

"Hmmm. I suppose if the princess is willing to abdicate her throne for you. What would you offer her in exchange for a country to rule?" she says rather deviously.

"Home cooked meals every night, obviously," Mamoru says as he brings his wine glass to his lips-- and pauses to tip his head lower for a flirting look as he adds, "I might even throw in doing the dishes."

"My kingdom for a home cooked meal! How could I resist?"

Taiyou takes a fork with exaggerated flourish and shovels a good bite of food into her mouth. How romantic! She giggles through the mouthful with chipmunk cheeks.

Futureverse

domesticity + quantum universes

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