Gojo Satoru let out a dramatic sigh, sprawled lazily across Geto Suguru's couch, one leg draped over the armrest.
"Suguru, don't you think Yaga-sensei should be a little nicer to me?" he drawled, holding his phone up and squinting at the mission details. "I mean, I just got back. Shouldn't I be getting a welcome home party instead of a 'get back to work' order?"
Geto, who was meticulously measuring out flour in the kitchen, barely looked up. "Maybe if you didn't turn every mission into a nationwide incident, he wouldn't send you out so soon."
Gojo gasped, sitting up with mock offense. "I'll have you know I'm an exemplary sorcerer."
"You blew up half of Sendai."
"That was Ichigo's fault."
"Uh-huh." Geto dusted his hands off, glancing at Gojo expectantly. "Since we apparently don't have a choice but to take this job, let's eat first."
Gojo perked up immediately. "Now that's the kind of teamwork I like to see!" He practically skipped into the kitchen, peering over Geto's shoulder. "Ooh, are we making something fancy? A cake? Macarons? A twelve-layer souffle?"
"Cookies."
Gojo deflated. "Boring."
"Cookies you have to help with."
Gojo stared at him, then slowly backed away. "I just remembered, I have a very important appointment with the couch."
Geto grabbed him by the back of the shirt before he could make his escape. "Nope. You're helping."
With much exaggerated suffering, Gojo was dragged to the kitchen counter.
"Alright, Satoru," Geto said, handing him a whisk, "mix the eggs and sugar."
Gojo twirled the whisk between his fingers like it was a weapon. "You got it, Chef Suguru."
Geto sighed. "Just don't—"
Too late. Gojo's first whisk attempt sent sugar flying into the air like a mini explosion. Geto shut his eyes for a long moment, breathing deeply.
"I am going to pretend I didn't see that," he muttered.
Gojo, unfazed, beamed at him. "That's the spirit! Cooking is all about improvisation."
"Cooking is about following instructions."
They somehow managed to get through mixing the batter with minimal destruction. Geto shaped the dough into neat circles on the tray, while Gojo was in charge of adding chocolate chips.
Big mistake.
"...Satoru."
"Yes, mon cher?"
Geto pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why did you put exactly one chocolate chip in each cookie?"
"It's modern art."
"You're impossible."
"And charming."
By some miracle, the cookies made it into the oven without catching fire. As they waited, Gojo leaned against the counter, stealing bits of leftover cookie dough despite Geto's half-hearted scolding.
"You know," Gojo mused, licking some batter off his finger, "if this whole sorcerer thing doesn't work out, we could totally open a bakery."
"With your cooking skills?" Geto raised an eyebrow. "We'd be shut down in a week."
Gojo gasped, clutching his chest. "How dare you. I'll have you know, my food is—"
Just then, the oven beeped.
"Perfect timing!" Gojo crowed, dramatically dodging the conversation as he grabbed oven mitts and pulled the tray out.
The cookies actually looked... decent.
Geto, still skeptical, took a bite.
And blinked.
"They're... good," he admitted, looking almost surprised.
Gojo grinned. "Of course they are! I am a genius, after all."
"Still not opening a bakery with you."
As they finished eating, the reality of their mission settled in. The atmosphere shifted—just a little. Gojo leaned against the counter, expression unreadable behind his sunglasses.
"Alright," he said after a moment, stretching his arms above his head. "Shall we?"
Geto hummed, brushing stray crumbs off his sleeves. "Let's go."
With that, they left the warmth of the kitchen behind, stepping into the cold Tokyo night, ready to face whatever came next.
But at least they had cookies.