#part 1: ichiro psychologically manipulates a nui

[ichisama]

532 words | rating: g | future!fic, established relationship, nui!verse

Ichinui liked to cook, and Ichiro and Samatoki were nothing if not indulgent. They'd gotten him a full set of toy-sized kitchen tools, each with a bit of velcro attached to the handle so Ichinui could easily pick them up.

Ichiro would often feel a little tug at his pants leg when he put on his apron and got ready to cook. He would always grin and stoop down to scoop Ichinui up, setting him down on the kitchen counter so he could help with some of the smaller tasks.

Lately, Ichinui had grown very fond of—and really astonishingly good at—cutting carrot slices into cute shapes. Flowers, stars, even bunnies. Ichiro always included Ichinui's work as garnishes in the bentos he packed for Samatoki.

He and Samatoki rarely got to have lunch together on work days, but whenever they were both free at around lunchtime, Samatoki would call Ichiro up and they would eat together over a video call.

"Ichiro…" Samatoki would often lift one of the carrot slices when they were included, his lips twitching with barely veiled disgust.

And Ichiro would grin at him, smug and victorious, while shifting back from the camera to let Ichinui peer at his cell phone screen with obvious anticipation glittering in his eyes.

"Ichinui made them," Ichiro would say. "He's getting better and better, isn't he? He's so proud of his work, and he's been waiting all day to see you enjoy—"

"I got it, I got it," Samatoki would snap, before shoveling the carrot slices into his mouth, one after another, and chewing and swallowing practically all in one go, like he was trying his damndest to not taste them on the way down.

Ichinui would puff up with pride at that, then give the cell phone a nuzzle, before turning to Ichiro for a little high five.

"I cannot believe you would weaponize a nui," Samatoki groaned one night, after suffering through a carrot-laced lunch earlier in the day. He'd collapsed onto the couch as soon as he got home, sprawling across Ichiro's lap and complaining of stomach pains because his body clearly wasn't built to digest anything as foul as carrots.

Ichiro smiled and obligingly rubbed Samatoki's stomach, but couldn't resist pointing out, "I feel like we 'weaponized' him together when we bought him a bunch of tiny knives. You were even the one who insisted we commission a set of real ones for him."

"You know what I mean," Samatoki grumbled. "Don't gotta do that, y'know."

"Mm?"

"You don't have to con me into eating—" Samatoki gave a dramatic shudder here. "—carrots by having Ichinui cut them into cute shit. Even if you just put 'em in my food in some normal way, I would eat every last damn bite. 'cause it's something you made, for me."

Ichiro opened his mouth to argue that Ichinui really did like working with the carrots, but Samatoki's sappy mumbles melted his heart so thoroughly that Ichiro absolutely had to kiss him right away.

Ichiro also couldn't bring himself to include carrots in any of his sweet, adoring boyfriend's meals for the next two weeks.

Which, in hindsight, probably meant Samatoki won that round.