Sukiyaki | By : AlaskanBlue Category: +. to F > FAKE Views: 1494 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own FAKE, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Disclaimer: FAKE and it’s
characters belong to Tokyopop and Saname
Matoh. This story
is written for entertainment purposes and I make no profit from it.
The song “Sukiyaki” belongs to Kyu Sakamoto and his estate.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sukiyaki
By: Alaskan Blue
The front door to their apartment
burst open and Dee came rushing through,his coat slipping off one shoulder, his black hair
disheveled, his face flushed from the cold, and his arms laden with plastic
shopping bags. Some of the bags fell
from his grasp as he raced through the living room and into the kitchen where
Ryo was kneeling in front of the oven, checking his lasagne. He looked up at Dee
and grinned, “I take it it’s going well?”
“Are you
kidding? It couldn’t be worse! The Knicks are
ahead by two, there’s two minutes left in the game and Baker just pulled a
hamstring!”
Dee began
shedding bags to the floor as carefully as he could and threw his coat into an
empty corner, when he was done he headed for the small radio Ryo kept on top of
the refrigerator. Pulling it down he hit
the power button and began fiddling with the dials, Ryo shook his head, closed
the oven door and stood as Dee landed the tuner on the correct station and
jacked the volume up so high the sports commentator was screaming in the
kitchen. “This is the most intense
moment I’ve seen all year ladies and gentlemen!
The Knicks with a two point lead against the
Bulls two minuleftleft in the game, and the Knicks
have the ball, can they win the most important game all year? Wesee see just as soon as they end the time
out called when Baker injured himself on that awesome basket, and if the Knicks can still win this game without their most valuable
player!”
“Shut up you ass hole!” Dee hollered staring
intently at the speakers.
“It’s not like he can hear
you.” Ryo said chuckling at how Dee
always got worked up over a Knicks game and began
picking up the shopping bags Dee had discarded.
He pulled out the multiple flavored
bags of potato chips and set them on the counter as Dee
ignored him and continued to express his anger over the commentator talking
about the intensity of the moment and what-not, rather than just relaying what
was happening on the basketball court.
Ryo set the milk and butter in the fridge and put the ice cream in the
refrigerator. Then began searching the
remaining plastic for the items he’d made clear to Dee
he needed for the spaghetti sauce, he looked to his agitated partner and dared
to ask, “Did you remember the olive oil?”
“Yeah yeah, extra virgin and all that.” Dee waved him off as
though it was the least important thing in the world, “I think it may be in the
living room where I dropped some and- a foul?!
What the hell do you mean a FOUL!”
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