MCA #4, Tuesday Evening

[myownface]

Sparkle was frowning at his phone as he looked, not for the first time, at the text that Atton had sent him yesterday. It said, ever so helpfully, a nice, straightforward, NOT DEAD. Sparkle, being Sparkle, had texted back and equally straightforward, ASSHOLE. Because goddammit, Atton, you didn't have to fucking scare him like that, okay?

At least today he had a pretty good distraction all lined up. Company to cook for, which meant that he was at least somewhat distracted from his worry by things that needed to be chopped and simmered and actually watched, because like hell he was going to burn down the apartment the very first time he decided to cook something for Leto.

It wasn't anything super fancy. Not really. He was a decent cook but he was no Dr. Lecter or anything, after all. And honestly, he didn't trust himself enough tonight to try anything more complicated than a pasta dish. But spaghetti was hard to mess up, and chorizo made anything good. Mostly anything good. It definitely made spaghetti good, anyway.

He looked at his phone again and screwed up his face at it before he tucked it back into his pocket. Leto would probably be here soon, and there was sauce to stir.

[OOC: Expecting one!]

Comments

[future_sandworm]

Laughing, Leto leaned in to kiss Sparkle again, this time on the lips, in that way which was both soft and intense, and which hopefully wouldn't last until the noodles boiled over.

Sparkle never asked him questions beyond what he assumed he asked of other friends, Leto thought, which made it easy not to talk about the things that bothered him the most. He should do that eventually, although probably not today.