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She never got tired of waking up to this.
The sounds of cooking, the smell of freshly brewed coffee, the feeling of not having to make a mad dash for the door and stuff a pastry in her face on the way out. The feeling of having things prepared for you, the knowledge, no matter how subconscious, that someone just… cared.
Misato’s new beau, Ryoji Kaji, wasn’t what you’d call an excellent cook, but he managed. He was still much better than Misato at cooking, for what it mattered. She was more than happy to let him handle it, anyway.
They’d been living together as a couple for about a week, just long enough for routine to set in while being recent enough to still be exciting. Misato had told herself that once she went off to college, she wasn’t going to hold back anymore, and now here she was. Sharing an apartment with a man, laying in bed naked - her own woman, goddammit. Finally, her own woman. Her mother would’ve had a fit if she could have seen her daughter.
She hadn’t done all of this to get back at her mother, of course, that would be silly. It was just the natural progression of things, after all - people move away, people find lovers, people move in together. Not unusual in the slightest.
Yet, despite that, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had an ulterior motive in all of this - she had moved rather quickly, after all. Bedding the first guy who caught her eye felt liberating, felt great, but it also made her feel guilty. Guilty to whom, she didn’t quite know.
Everybody has messy families, after all. Sure, most people didn’t have to deal with an absentee father who, despite his flaws, made the ultimate sacrifice to save her (in place of himself, no less), but she was sure that other people had similar experiences. She knew for certain most people had parents like her mother. Sad (almost permanently unhappy), old, illogical, demanding (oh, so demanding). Dime a dozen in this world, especially since the Second Impact made everything harder for everyone.
Misato could feel the tears begin to prick at her eyes as she thought more about things. She quickly wiped them away. She wasn’t ready to tell Kaji about her situation, anyway. He probably thought she was just some dumb slut, anyway. An easy lay looking for a warm bed and nice things whispered in her ear. Maybe he was right.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and got up. No need to just lie there and think bad things. Dressing lightly, she ventured into the kitchen to see what her lover was preparing. The burners on the stove were roaring as he cooked breakfast, American-style, of course. Kaji didn’t have a great love for American cuisine or anything (not that Misato knew of, at least), and neither did she, but she did know one thing about American food - it was very simple to make. Eggs, bacon, toast, and sausage. How could you mess it up?
He heard her come in, of course. In his typical fashion, he’d made a smart remark about her attire, the color of the panties she’d chosen. He was a bit of a lech, that’s for sure. But even still, Misato could tell there was perhaps a little more to him than just blind lust. The way he smiled at her when she came in (it almost made her blush, it was so sudden and sincere), the way his expression got serious once he turned back to his cooking, his frantacism at the sight of the toast burning. He’s alright, she thought. Maybe she could tell him someday about the clusterfuck that was her family history.
Maybe, someday.
~
“Yo!”
Misato turned to look. Sure enough, Kaji stood before her. He’d been at NERV for a few days now, but it always caught her off guard when he’d just… show up. Wherever. No matter what. She was just wandering down the halls to the vending machines, about to get a canned coffee, and he’d somehow still found her. She half-jokingly resolved to check for tracking beacons on her clothes that night.
She put on a convincing frown. “What do you want?” she said, trying her best to sound upset with him for disrupting her ritual coffee purchasing.
He smirked. Oh lord, she thought, here we go. She knew that smirk a mile away, that spark in his eyes.
“My, my, that’s awful cold, Katsuragi. I was just being friendly,” he said, the emphasis placed on those last words, the smirk never leaving his face.
“Keep it to yourself next time.” She walked past him to one of the vending machines.
He’d laughed at that, and she tried to continue looking pissed.
He walked up to the machine beside her, and began patting himself down. He was looking for his wallet, she guessed. His smirk faded as he kept looking, not finding what he was looking for. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. She frowned. What, did he not have it? Did he lose it?
He turned to her and opened his mouth, about to ask her something, but her arm had already swiftly cut through the air to swipe her card on his machine. She’d done it before she knew what she was doing, really, and she only paused a second before swiping the card on the vending machine she was in front of. All according to plan. Of course. She turned to face the machine.
“Oh, thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” She turned her head slightly to give him a polite nod.
He was smiling at her. Suddenly, she was back in their shabby college apartment, the smell of coffee and toast in the air. He looked like Shinji when he smiled like that, his eyes closed and face perked up like that.
...Where had eight years gone?
Suddenly, she snapped back to the present. She quickly turned to face the machine again, grabbed her can, and left. He’d said something smart as she walked away, she was sure, but she wasn’t paying attention to it.
~
It was all over. Her darkest, deepest secrets, her most illicit desires, every speck of her fucked-up person had been exposed to him.
Oh, who else was it gonna be? Of course it was gonna be Kaji, of course he was gonna be the one to find out.
But now she found herself in the unique position of knowing the same about him. His darkest insecurities, his troubled past, everything that had made him the man she both loved and loved to hate. All of this, displayed as naked as their forms were in front of each other in Instrumentality.
Of course, the nature of Instrumentality was what had made this possible. More importantly, it let her understand him, completely, for the first time ever. It was impossible not to understand with everything lay bare in front of her.
She’d loved him. There was no denying it now, not with him in front of her and the two of them alone in the vastness of Instrumentality, with not another soul around them for miles. He loved her too. It all just fell into place.
He reached out his hand, gave her a smile that she now knew meant “I love you”, and she couldn’t find any reason to not take his hand in hers.
They were together now. As they always should’ve been.