Uchiha Sasuke (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
eyeforaneye) wrote2019-01-05 08:07 pm
eyeforaneye) wrote2019-01-05 08:07 pm
stiles+sasuke, enabler
[ The cool, summer, Beacon Hills breeze through the open window, one that's scented like cut grass and charcoal, is pleasant.
The thought comes to him unexpectedly as he stands in the kitchen, one dark sleeve tied into a loose knot as usual while the other is rolled up to his elbow, revealing a toned forearm nicked with various scars. It's pleasant... His eyes settle on the enamel pot before him as he measures out rice bran with a practiced flourish, gaze half-lidded as his thoughts wander. He needs more salt. The water on the stove has yet to boil.
... pleasant.
It's not just the breeze; this moment as a whole is pleasant, and it's with a sharp lift of his head (like he's heard a distant voice) that he realizes he also doesn't feel he should be doing anything else. It's quiet without Stiles having returned yet, but even that brings with it a certain peace. Quiet. Pleasant. Guiltless.
He needs more salt.
A door opens in the distance and he exhales a spot of tension, trainless train of thought mercifully broken. ]
Shoes off, [ he commands first and foremost in that quiet yet stern voice of his, all while dried shiitake mushrooms are scraped onto the bran in a rushed heap. He's... uneasy. ]
The thought comes to him unexpectedly as he stands in the kitchen, one dark sleeve tied into a loose knot as usual while the other is rolled up to his elbow, revealing a toned forearm nicked with various scars. It's pleasant... His eyes settle on the enamel pot before him as he measures out rice bran with a practiced flourish, gaze half-lidded as his thoughts wander. He needs more salt. The water on the stove has yet to boil.
... pleasant.
It's not just the breeze; this moment as a whole is pleasant, and it's with a sharp lift of his head (like he's heard a distant voice) that he realizes he also doesn't feel he should be doing anything else. It's quiet without Stiles having returned yet, but even that brings with it a certain peace. Quiet. Pleasant. Guiltless.
He needs more salt.
A door opens in the distance and he exhales a spot of tension, trainless train of thought mercifully broken. ]
Shoes off, [ he commands first and foremost in that quiet yet stern voice of his, all while dried shiitake mushrooms are scraped onto the bran in a rushed heap. He's... uneasy. ]