complete - ness/lucas request.

“Benefits”

Prudent footsteps flitted to and fro from either side of a kitchen, the soles of school loafers pattering boisterously upon polished marble floor tiles. Cabinets were flung open haphazardly, the boy bustling about dismissing the thought to actually partake in closing them for the sake of protecting his (probably-not-for-long) undistorted mentality (as he had crashed into them more than once in his currently pressured state).

Well, actually, he hadn’t even considered doing such a thing---the thought had escaped him until now.

…What was he doing again…?

…Was he doing Lucas? No, they weren’t gay…yet…

…

…Maybe it is best to shut them, yeah.

Shrouded by the large stack of pans he balanced with unusual ease (especially for one such as himself, whom has countlessly stumbled over his own two feet whilst daydreaming of open blue skies and baseball fields), the youth filed through the large array of cooking utensils (not particularly favoring the lack of an electric mixer, decidedly making due with a two eggbeaters), plucking the ones of the rail he needed---supposedly as the book instructed (he hadn’t glanced at the text in quite a while, honestly…).

Just as he was going to bring his baking collection to the safety of his roommate’s unnecessarily large counter, said roommate chose to make an earlier-than-expected attendance to their abode. To accentuate the laboring boy’s unlucky karma, the new presence had brought a thundering slam of the door with him (the other did not typically do so, which more so concerned the chef), startling said into breaking his concentration of (he should have thought this over more… PSI could have held it up. He wasn’t Jeff, and Jeff didn’t even have PP, so shove any of your ‘common sense’ comments down Pokey’s throat) managing all previously mentioned items. They all fell to the floor in a flurried orchestra of ‘thunks’ and ‘thwonks’, quite obviously stunning him and the other occupant.

A few moments passed, where the capped (…where was his cap, anyways? Please don’t say it’s in the mix…) boy merely gazed at the pile of metals and nonsense as if it were his friend’s father (in which, his demeanor would be pretty neutral… statue-like, really, as he was once told by his Twoson-abiding acquaintance). Circular blue and purple wisps separated from the can, their lingering contact causing sparks upon the tinny surfaces. Unintentionally, the boy had released a spout of PSI---possibly a last resort of defense before the items barraged either him or the floor. (There weren’t any dents, were there? It’s not his floor…)

A pregnant pause it was not, as the sudden disruption did not cease the unwelcomed visitor (was he really a visitor? Well, in this case, he’s imposing, so whatever degrades him… though it really isn’t the kid’s fault… He does live here, after all) whirlwind of ‘fury’ (all in all, the boy was very calm and collected---and he, being the horrible pastry-cook, new the other’s anger was very short-lived or, well, boring. Don’t tell him that, though it’s uncertain of what kind of reaction a person would have if one told them their anger was boring) as he practically drop-kicked everything with waves of psionic energy. The kitchen-stray recognized it as frustration, but more so sadness, which involuntarily stimulated a stream of positive emotion to him to the other as means of vanquishing such unfortunate emotions.

(He never liked to see that boy frown---it was unbecoming of someone with such an attractive smile that list up the whole room, etc homosexual things he already mulled over.)

“Ness!” the shoulder-bag the impeding carried (he had stayed back for puzzle club. Frankly, who—other than the mentor’s self-proclaimed apprentice—even bothered with such a thing? The professor must be a charming man, indeed… or a pedophile. Well, used to, if Luke---the earlier mentioned “apprentice”---had not grown to college years. …Now that it’s cited, why is the blue-themed adult still in this high school anyways…?) was plopped casually next to the doorway, a unceremonious shaking of the house in its wake (why is his bag always so heavy…). “Not one person told me ‘happy birthday’!”

While it pained the steak-loving male to do this—seeing as the good was making WAS for the saddened blond FOR his birthday---, he urged the other boy out of the kitchen (despite how belated it was, it seemed Lucas was all-too involved with himself at the moment to care about his mess/that loud noise from before). Grabbing a hold of the red-and-yellow clad boy’s shoulders in a mock-position of kissing, Ness swerved the Tazmilian around and directed him out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind him.

“Out, out! I can’t have you in here right now, sorry!” was all the teen could manage before duty overwhelmed his need to converse.

Outside, Lucas was still talking.

..That was good, he guessed.

Collecting his paraphernalia with the simplicity that telekinesis granted him, Ness plucked his batter-soiled Mr. Baseball Cap out of the cake batter and plopped it on his head, once again gathering the gall to complete Lucas’s birthday cake.


“Hey, can I take this thing off, yet?”

“No. Not until I get everything just right.”

“…Does it really matter, anyways? Making it look all nice, I mean.”

“Not really, I guess.”

“Then why won’t you take the blindfold off?! I can see right through it anyways!”

“…You cannot see through it. I’m not falling for that like Claus did, Lucas.”

“…PK Shit.”


It was almost dark by the time Ness actually commenced that actual birthday celebration, but Lucas paid no heed to that as he was more entranced by the fact that Ness could cook.

“…You can cook?!” He didn’t need to look so… surprised. Or almost looking like he wanted to tip the entire table in astonishment..

Ness did not mention that was his sixth cake. The rest were green.

“Shouldn’t you be more concerned over the fact I was the only one who did something for you?”

The blond looked all too desperate for a counter to that statement. “Well, actually, my brother and father did some things for me…”

“More underwear from your dad, and condoms from your brother?” A mocking grin played the obsidian-haired boy’s lips, his tresses somewhat more unruly than usual. (Ah, there was still dough in his hair?)

Lucas didn’t say anything, glaring at his clasped hands pointedly. Enough of an answer, Ness concluded. He couldn’t help the amused chuckle that escaped his lips.

The other boy actually had a pile of “gifts from family” down in the basement, all of which he either sold on Christmas for money or used (the condoms, obviously not. As a child, Claus preferred giving Lucas bugs or their mother’s lipsticks, then switched to the long list of sexual miscellanea to help in his brother’s nonexistent endeavors around fourteen. Neither of them could comprehend just how Ninten could stand the carrot top. Claus was probably great in bed…).

“Anyways, how about you make a wish?” Ness suggested whilst lighting the sixteen candles with the fire dotting each of his calloused fingertips.

The stick-warrior gave the bat-user an indignant look, as if to argue that fact that he is much too old for youngster traditions. Nonetheless, Lucas did so, the older male’s only reaction being a curt “you see?” coupled with his trademark beam. The cowlick-donning student looked almost embarrassed at that, huffily turning away, a light roseate dusting his distinguished cheekbones appealingly.

A short few moments ticked by as Ness stood where he was, seemingly doing something, before the grin turned to a sly smile and he approached the still-put-out young man. Placing a hand atop Lucas’s somewhat feminine shoulders (it was expected; even at sixteen, the poor boy had hardly passed 5’3”---Ness being a full-fledged 5’8” and growing), observing the start of the shorter male, and leaning down to the side of his face.

Lucas tensed up considerably at that point, and while it was somewhat unproven to Ness, it seemed he was also holding his breath.

“…What did you wish for?” The indigo optics of the speaking boy trailed to meet Lucas’s own, having to move his head forward as to meet the avoiding ceruleans of the dog trainer’s.

“If I told you, if wouldn’t come true.” Ah, the old cliché.

“Luc', I can read your mind.”

He received no answer, the one in question instead moving to cross his arms defensively.

“So… can I fulfill your wish?”

Ness didn’t gain an answer that time, either, but the younger didn’t move away.

So he kissed him.

And Lucas kissed back.

Hm. Maybe eight—uh, six cakes were worth it after all.


Later that night, Lucas spent the duration of his reading time bothering Ness about the condoms in his drawer and just why, oh why, they were in his drawer and not Ness’s own.

END