notes: this is for shokugeki otp week happening over on tumblr! the first day prompt is "chocolate & other sweets" :^) this fic is pretty self-indulgent for me but i hope someone out there enjoys it as much as i did writing it. i love these three and i just wanted content of them out there. thanks for reading if you do!

There is a plastic food container sitting on the table when Akira enters the lab this morning.

This is not surprising in itself. Jun is scatterbrained at the best of times and hopelessly forgetful at the worst, so half eaten containers of leftovers from the fridge are not unusual.

What is unusual are the contents.

Fudge. Jun never makes fudge.

He picks up a square of it with his fingers, gives it an experimental sniff. Sweet. Overbearingly so, as expected. Sweets are not something he indulges in often. And besides, it's far too early in the morning to be eating chocolate.

"Oh, you found it!"

Jun smiles at him from the doorway of the lab, two fresh mugs of coffee in her hands.

"Yukihira-kun came by with that this morning."

"Yukihira?" Akira says disbelievingly.

She nods, an overjoyed sheen to her eyes as she sets one of the mugs down on the table for him and wanders off with a bounce in her step.

Akira, on the other hand, only feels more confusion as he ponders the fudge again. What possible purpose is there for Yukihira to give him this? Perhaps one of his dorm mates made it and there was far too much for Polar Star to consume on their own. Maybe Yukihira is finally giving back to him for all the time he's spent in the Shiomi Seminar building, him and Kurokiba, the two sources of Akira's endless headaches.

Whatever the purpose, the fudge is here. He hasn't even eaten breakfast yet—coffee usually serves that purpose well enough. He considers for a moment, but one small piece shouldn't hurt.

He takes a bite.

It melts on his tongue, slowly and smoothly. The sweetness isn't as overwhelming as Akira expected. And at the end of it is a kick, a spike of hotness, spice.

Hm. Not bad. He indulges in one more bite before he gets to work.

Yukihira and Kurokiba do not come by that day, and Akira tells himself he's only disappointed because he looked forward to telling him how to improve the fudge, even if he takes pieces of it throughout the day.

Despite Akira's insistence that they're nuisances, Jun always lets Yukihira and Kurokiba into the building without informing him first. The first few times it was annoying, but there was no stopping the two of them and there was certainly no stopping Jun, so he learned to deal with it.

He learned to deal with Yukihira and Kurokiba constantly butting heads and arguing over the outcome of the Autumn Election, he learned to say no when they plead for him to cook a dish again so they can judge it against their own, and he learned to stop them from touching all the different vials and jars of spices he very carefully arranged on the shelves of the lab so please do not touch them, Yukihira, before you spill star anise everywhere. Again.

It's tiring, but having them over seems to make Jun happy for whatever reason. Akira doesn't really understand it, but her happiness is far more important to him than anything else so his attempts at keeping Yukihira and Kurokiba out lose fervor and frequency.

And if he participates in their heated discussions more and more, and relents to cooking a dish for them when they ask to taste it, and stops complaining when Jun brings out the expensive snacks for them, well—it's only because Jun is always encouraging him to make friends. And if that's what Yukihira and Kurokiba seem to think they are—which, judging by their constant presence, must be the case—then Akira knows better than to fight them.

So when lunch period rolls around the following day and Akira hears a light rap on the door, he answers.

Kurokiba and Yukihira are standing outside it. Kurokiba looks significantly more at home in the chill January air than Yukihira, who bounces on his feet and rubs his hands together for warmth.

"Finally!" he says. "It's freezing out here!"

Wordlessly, Akira opens the door wider for them to come in. Yukihira enters quickly, tugging off his shoes, while Kurokiba follows at a much more leisurely pace.

Yukihira's face lights up when he spies the half-finished container of fudge on the table. "Hey, you ate it!"

It suddenly feels embarrassing for Akira to admit he's eaten bits and pieces of it since yesterday morning. Gratitude rises to his lips, but it doesn't manage to break through and what he blurts out instead is, "There isn't nearly enough chili in it, and though it doesn't taste as sweet as it smells, aroma is an important aspect of a dish and this one nearly kills it."

"I told you it needed more," Kurokiba drawls.

"But you ate it," Yukihira points out, eyes gleaming.

"I—" Akira says, faltering. "Well, some of it, anyway."

Yukihira pulls a notebook out of his back pocket, begins hastily writing notes. "Alright, so more spice, less sweet smell…"

"I think," Kurokiba chimes in from where he's lounging on the couch like he owns the place, "you'll enjoy this better."

"What?" Akira says.

With lazy movements—a stark difference from his lightning quick efficiency in the kitchen—Kurokiba reaches into his school bag. He pulls out a steel thermos and holds it out to Akira.

"Here."

Akira regards it for a moment, reaches out slowly to take it. He twists the lid, and when he removes it the scent is immediate.

"Hot chocolate?" he says.

"Spiced hot chocolate," Kurokiba corrects.

"What? Did you make that yesterday?" Yukihira hurries over, leans over Akira's shoulder much closer than Akira finds comfortable to get a glance inside the thermos. "You didn't tell me!"

"Because you wouldn't listen to me about the fudge, I wasn't gonna let you ruin this."

"Hey! Fudge isn't exactly your forte either, you know."

"Enough," Akira sighs, placing the lid back onto the thermos. "It's lunch time, aren't you two going to eat? I'm certainly not wasting my free time listening to you bicker."

"Where are you going?" Yukihira calls out when Akira begins walking out of the room.

He stops and says over his shoulder at them, "To get mugs. There's far too much for me to drink by myself."

He turns away and continues on quickly, but not quick enough to miss Yukihira's wide grin or the pleased expression that flits briefly over Kurokiba's face. He only hopes they didn't notice the embarrassed look on his own face, or the flustered way his fingers grip the warm thermos in his hands.

Ridiculous, he thinks, as he pulls mugs out of the cupboard and sets them on a tray. His face feels strange, like his cheeks and mouth are twitching without his control. When he reopens the thermos and the aroma reaches his nose again, he realizes it's because he is smiling.

As Yukihira and Kurokiba continue their visits to the Shiomi Seminar, Akira notices a pattern.

Every visit, they alternate bringing some kind of food or drink. They are all sweet in nature—candy, baked goods, milk tea. And they have all been made by Yukihira and Kurokiba themselves. Yukihira brings in a roll cake, the following day Kurokiba brings dango. Yukihira brings fresh dorayaki and Kurokiba brings macarons. More and more of them fill up their fridge and Akira does not have the appetite to finish them all himself.

Jun absolutely glows every time one of them shows up with something new, much to Akira's chagrin. Surely he is not the only one annoyed at the rapid loss of space in their fridge.

"Hayama-kun," Jun says one evening, marker smeared on her cheek from scribbling her thoughts out on the whiteboard. "You should give them something in return, you know."

Akira gives her a look over the box of truffles on his table, the latest gift from one Yukihira Souma.

"If I tried to give them something in return for all the sweets they've given me, the Shiomi Seminar would run out of funding."

"Well, I'm not saying you have to go that far..."

"Besides, they're probably just using them as payment for using up so much of our time and space."

He continues writing notes in his recipe book, thinking that was the end of that.

Jun pushes her sleeves up her arms where they hang too-long like always. She plants her hands on her hips.

"Don't you think they're giving you these things for a different reason?" she says, with a suggestive tone to her voice Akira doesn't understand.

He thinks a moment, eyebrows furrowed. "… They want me to owe them?" he hazards.

Jun walks over to him and pokes him on the forehead.

"Think again," she says amusedly.

She turns back to her work while Akira rubs at his forehead, grumbling. She's not usually one for speaking so indirectly. And anyway, there's no way those two are pursuing this odd pattern of behavior without an ulterior motive, no matter what she says. Maybe they're trying to pry some suggestions for improvement out of him, like he did with Yukihira and the fudge on the first day. Valentine's Day is approaching, after all. Maybe they're trying to perfect recipes for their significant others, whoever they may be.

He doesn't know why, but the thought sits uneasily in the pit of his stomach.

Shaking his head, he sighs and returns his focus back to his research, pointedly not thinking about the ring of Yukihira's laughter or the heat of Kurokiba's hands.

Akira resolves to mention it the next time they visit.

He'll tell them there are too many desserts in the fridge already and he can no longer accept any more. If they feel like they owe him for being frequent guests of the Shiomi Seminar, he'll tell them there's no need. And if they still need someone to taste test for them, they can ask someone else.

Except they do not come knocking on the Shiomi Seminar door today.

Or the next day, or the day after that.

It doesn't disappoint him, of course. It doesn't.

If anything, this is exactly what he needs—peace and quiet to let him focus on his work. Even as Tootsuki's campus buzzes with the approach of Valentine's Day, Akira lets none of it faze him. During the day he finishes his assignments with the same precision he usually does, and in the evenings he works hard on his research and refining his notes. And through all of it, he doesn't catch a single glimpse of Yukihira or Kurokiba anywhere on campus.

"I'm sure they're busy," Jun reassures him—unnecessarily, Akira thinks. He's not bothered at all.

He doesn't say anything about it, not even when Valentine's Day finally arrives in a wave of flowers and ornately decorated boxes of chocolate clutched in the eager hands of Tootsuki students. Classes pass by in their usual manner, but between them on the walk from classroom to classroom Akira witnesses explosions of pink and red and white so vivid he feels like he needs sunglasses to pass through campus without being blinded.

It's a relief when his classes finally finish for the day. As he steps outside the classroom and exits the building, his classmates pass by him and talk excitedly about their Valentine's Day dinner plans. He slings his bag over his shoulder and begins the walk home, the evening sky bleeding orange to purple above the trees of Tootsuki's campus.

When he arrives back at the Shiomi Seminar building, the lights are off in the windows.

Surely Jun isn't forgetful enough to neglect turning the lights on while she works. That would be a new one, and Akira has seen a lot since living with her. He opens the door.

There are voices coming from the dining area.

His usual greeting of I'm home dies on his tongue, and curiosity prickles his skin. The voices are hushed but heated, like a whispered argument. The voices are familiar.

He moves to slide his shoes off and notices the pairs of shoes lying in front of the door, neither his nor Jun's, and suddenly he knows exactly who the voices belong to. They grow louder as he walks slowly to the dining area.

"No, no, put the cookies here, and the strawberries can be front and center."

"Why the strawberries?"

"Because chocolate-dipped strawberries are like, theclassic romantic dessert, everyone knows that!"

"What are you doing here?" Akira says.

Yukihira and Kurokiba freeze, a plate of strawberries held in their hands, clearly not having agreed yet on their placement. Not that there's much room for it to go anyway, because the table is filled with dishes of all different kinds of sweets. There are shortbread cookies of different colors and shapes, various fruits cut and arranged evenly on plates, small pastries and pretzels.

The centerpiece of the table is a fondue pot filled with dark, melted chocolate, glinting golden from the light of candles arranged artfully around the room.

Akira takes all of it in with stunned silence.

"Surprise!" Yukihira says, throwing his hands into the air.

"Surprise," Kurokiba deadpans.

"… What is going on?" Akira asks slowly.

"So," Yukihira begins, approaching from around the table, "we know we haven't been around in a week which must have been weird because we're here like, all the time." He gestures to the table with open palms. "But that's because we were planning this."

"At first we were only going to do strawberries but Miss Alice thought that was boring." Kurokiba points at the shortbread cookies. "She suggested having other things to dip. She made those."

"And the strawberries are from the Polar Star garden! Tadokoro and everyone also bought some other fruits from the farmer's market, and we made everything else. We wanted a lot of variety."

"Variety is the spice of life," Kurokiba recites flatly, and Akira can just hear the chime of Nakiri Alice's voice in his words.

"Come on, try some!" Yukihira eagerly holds out a strawberry speared by a small skewer.

"Wait, wait." Confusion turns Akira's racing thoughts into white noise, and he touches a hand to his temple in an attempt to steady himself.

He says, "Why?"

Yukihira stares, head tilted, skewer still in hand.

"What do you think we've been doing all this time?" he says.

"What?"

"We've been wooing you," Kurokiba clarifies, like it's that easy. Like his words don't send Akira's heart racing in his chest, a rapid staccato that makes his breaths come quicker, thinner, his face suddenly burning.

"W-What?!" he bursts.

"We thought we'd pull out all the stops on Valentine's Day," Yukihira continues. "So let's hurry up and eat already so you can taste everything and tell us what you think."

"Hold on, why would you—"

Akira can't even find the energy to finish his question. Yukihira and Kurokiba regard him patiently as his whole world suddenly turns on its axis.

"So all of those… All of those sweets you kept bringing…?"

"Yep," Yukihira says with a grin. "We were trying to see what you liked. And maybe we got a little competitive about it."

"A little," Kurokiba says.

"A little?" Akira nearly laughs. The endless number of cakes and candies in his fridge would say otherwise.

The laughter within him doesn't abate—it bubbles like crisp, clear champagne. He realizes he didn't like the quiet and stillness of the Shiomi Seminar these last few days. He realizes he missed them.

Yukihira begins explaining some of the other desserts on the table and Kurokiba chimes in about the things he did himself—and Akira thinks about how the two of them did this, all this and everything else, for him.

He clears his throat and they stop abruptly, looking at him.

Before he can second guess himself, Akira reaches out to touch each of their hands with his own.

"Thank you," he says. His mouth curves in a brief flash of a smile before disappearing just as quickly, but Yukihira is practically gaping and Kurokiba's eyes are very wide.

"I—Of course!" Yukihira stammers. "Here, try this first."

His cheeks are just as red as the strawberries on the plate he holds out. Kurokiba's fingers curl around Akira's where he hasn't let go yet. Akira doesn't know why they chose to stay after all these weeks and why they keep returning to him, but he is glad they do. He is glad for all of it.