Rice Baby
Title: Rice Baby
Genre: fluff
Rating: G
Pairings: none, actually. Just general SHINee interaction, plus looots of Key.
Word Count: 1167
Summary: Kibum-umma takes it upon himself to teach his bandmates how to cook rice.
A/N: I generally don't write fics with no pairings, but this just...happened. And it was oh-so-fun to write.
“Yah! What is wrong with this!?” Minho hastily yanked his pot off of the stovetop, narrowly avoiding spilling the white foam from the over-boiling water that was cresting on the top. “This isn’t right!”
“You probably didn't add enough milk,” Jinki told him seriously, eyeing the situation from his safe position at the table.
Kibum snorted. He'd been refraining from saying anything and had been trying to eat his lunch peacefully--after all, the best way to learn was from experience--but this was starting to get ridiculous. “Since when do you use milk to cook rice?”
Minho frowned, watching the water begin to rise again. “I need to add milk? I’m just using water...”
“No, you don't use milk. Water is right.” Kibum sighed. Minho could be so helpless sometimes. “Right now it's too hot, probably.”
Why was it this complicated to just cook rice? Minho thought, frustrated. How did Kibum manage to make food all the time without royally screwing everything up? “Ehm...” His fingers hovered over the dial, tentative.
With another heavy sigh Kibum dragged himself up from his chair and stalked over to Minho. “Stand there,” he said, pointing to the general vicinity of the sink off to his left. That ought to be safe enough. “Watch me. You too, Jinki! You should know how to cook rice!”
As the two hastily lined up, not wanting to make their umma any more touchy than he already was, Kibum began poking around in the pot with a spoon. “Look, it's stuck to the bottom. Did you stir this at all?”
Minho scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Uh, no.”
“Babo,” Kibum muttered. “You need to stir it. Here, throw it out, it's too late now.” He handed the pot over, watching as Jinki gingerly took it and and began attempting to drain out the water from the sticky rice. “Now listen. Rice is supposed to be fluffy. That means you have to take good care of it. It's like a child, okay? Your rice baby.”
Minho was gazing at the box of rice with a look that was a cross between interest and anxiety. “That doesn't look anything like a child.”
“I don't care.” Kibum was rustling around in the cupboards, looking for another pot and muttering under his breath. “Jonghyun and Taemin know how to cook rice. It's so simple. Why don't either of you know how? Are you both especially stupid or what?”
Jinki chose that moment to begin smacking the pot on the counter. The rice was stuck to the bottom, so it wasn't a completely illogical decision (although it certainly would have made more sense to use a spoon to scrape it out), but the racket sent Kibum over the edge. “Jinki, stop that!” he screeched, whipping around to grab his arm and roughly deposit him next to the stove. “Stand here. Don't move!”
Taemin had walked in sometime during the ruckus and, upon deciding that the forgotten meal on the table looked tasty, had begun to eat it. “Just listen to him,” he advised his two hyungs knowledgably. “He acted the same to me when he realized I didn't know how to fry eggs. If you do what he says it'll all end faster.”
Minho glowered at him, not at all impressed with the fact that his dongsaeng got to eat by himself when he was forced to endure playing appa to a pot of rice.
Kibum had finally located a second pot and was filling it with water. “You read the directions first,” he told them. “Look, they're in big print, you can't miss them.” Jinki leaned closer to try see, but was met with a hand to his face, shoving him backward into the cupboard door. “Not you, you’ll probably read them backwards. Minho! Look at this!”
Minho begrudgingly took the box, scanning it for the directions. They were indeed there. Why hadn't he thought to look for them earlier? If he had he wouldn't have had to endure all of Kibum-umma's terrifying mothering. “Bring the water to a boil. Add salt. Boil for twenty minutes, stirring occasionally.”
There was something bordering on condescension in Kibum's eyes. “And what did you not do?”
“Add the water?” Jinki said, hopefully.
“I did too add water!”
Kibum heaved a sigh that was so huge it threatened to blow the box of rice out of Minho's hands. “You didn't stir it.”
Minho nodded quickly, not bothering to remind him that he'd forgotten the salt as well. Catching Jinki’s bewildered gaze, he rolled his eyes, linking his hands behind his back. He was determined not to disturb Key any further, instead watching impatiently as the boy poured fresh rice into the pot, grumbling about the general pathetic condition of the human race.
A blonde head--Jonghyun--appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. He’d been attracted by the noise, and now peered around the scene. His friends were crammed around the tiny stove, obviously holding court over a pot of boiling rice. Jinki was looking trapped, Minho annoyed, and Kibum something between murderous and gleeful. With a mischievous grin playing on his lips he walked further in, waving his hand to get Taemin's attention. “Taemin-ah,” he said sweetly in a voice meant to carry over to the rice-cookers, “would you like to go out and get some ice cream with me?”
Taemin perked up at the suggestion, quickly eating the last bit of meat off of the plate and dropping his chopsticks next to it unceremoniously. “Yeah! Let's go.”
“I'll come with too!” Jinki said, trying to take a step out of the corner he was assigned to.
Kibum flung out an arm without looking, locking his hyung in his place. “No,” he said sternly, “you're staying right here in this kitchen until you can make rice. Without milk.”
He whimpered.
“I'll go then, so you can focus on him, and you can teach me after.” Minho was wheedling, cajoling, trying desperately to get out of his unfavorable position as the one who started this whole situation. Getting ice cream with Jonghyun and Taemin sounded infinitely better than what he was currently doing. “I'll bring you both back some ice cream.”
Kibum glanced at him, pitiless. “No, you're staying here too. Taemin will bring us some ice cream, won't you, Taemin?” His eyes fell on the table and his (very empty) plate. It only took a moment for him to connect the dots. “Taemin!”
Taemin was already halfway out the door with Jonghyun, not bothering to look the least bit sorry or abashed. “I'll get you chocolate, Kibum-umma!”
Genre: fluff
Rating: G
Pairings: none, actually. Just general SHINee interaction, plus looots of Key.
Word Count: 1167
Summary: Kibum-umma takes it upon himself to teach his bandmates how to cook rice.
A/N: I generally don't write fics with no pairings, but this just...happened. And it was oh-so-fun to write.
“Yah! What is wrong with this!?” Minho hastily yanked his pot off of the stovetop, narrowly avoiding spilling the white foam from the over-boiling water that was cresting on the top. “This isn’t right!”
“You probably didn't add enough milk,” Jinki told him seriously, eyeing the situation from his safe position at the table.
Kibum snorted. He'd been refraining from saying anything and had been trying to eat his lunch peacefully--after all, the best way to learn was from experience--but this was starting to get ridiculous. “Since when do you use milk to cook rice?”
Minho frowned, watching the water begin to rise again. “I need to add milk? I’m just using water...”
“No, you don't use milk. Water is right.” Kibum sighed. Minho could be so helpless sometimes. “Right now it's too hot, probably.”
Why was it this complicated to just cook rice? Minho thought, frustrated. How did Kibum manage to make food all the time without royally screwing everything up? “Ehm...” His fingers hovered over the dial, tentative.
With another heavy sigh Kibum dragged himself up from his chair and stalked over to Minho. “Stand there,” he said, pointing to the general vicinity of the sink off to his left. That ought to be safe enough. “Watch me. You too, Jinki! You should know how to cook rice!”
As the two hastily lined up, not wanting to make their umma any more touchy than he already was, Kibum began poking around in the pot with a spoon. “Look, it's stuck to the bottom. Did you stir this at all?”
Minho scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Uh, no.”
“Babo,” Kibum muttered. “You need to stir it. Here, throw it out, it's too late now.” He handed the pot over, watching as Jinki gingerly took it and and began attempting to drain out the water from the sticky rice. “Now listen. Rice is supposed to be fluffy. That means you have to take good care of it. It's like a child, okay? Your rice baby.”
Minho was gazing at the box of rice with a look that was a cross between interest and anxiety. “That doesn't look anything like a child.”
“I don't care.” Kibum was rustling around in the cupboards, looking for another pot and muttering under his breath. “Jonghyun and Taemin know how to cook rice. It's so simple. Why don't either of you know how? Are you both especially stupid or what?”
Jinki chose that moment to begin smacking the pot on the counter. The rice was stuck to the bottom, so it wasn't a completely illogical decision (although it certainly would have made more sense to use a spoon to scrape it out), but the racket sent Kibum over the edge. “Jinki, stop that!” he screeched, whipping around to grab his arm and roughly deposit him next to the stove. “Stand here. Don't move!”
Taemin had walked in sometime during the ruckus and, upon deciding that the forgotten meal on the table looked tasty, had begun to eat it. “Just listen to him,” he advised his two hyungs knowledgably. “He acted the same to me when he realized I didn't know how to fry eggs. If you do what he says it'll all end faster.”
Minho glowered at him, not at all impressed with the fact that his dongsaeng got to eat by himself when he was forced to endure playing appa to a pot of rice.
Kibum had finally located a second pot and was filling it with water. “You read the directions first,” he told them. “Look, they're in big print, you can't miss them.” Jinki leaned closer to try see, but was met with a hand to his face, shoving him backward into the cupboard door. “Not you, you’ll probably read them backwards. Minho! Look at this!”
Minho begrudgingly took the box, scanning it for the directions. They were indeed there. Why hadn't he thought to look for them earlier? If he had he wouldn't have had to endure all of Kibum-umma's terrifying mothering. “Bring the water to a boil. Add salt. Boil for twenty minutes, stirring occasionally.”
There was something bordering on condescension in Kibum's eyes. “And what did you not do?”
“Add the water?” Jinki said, hopefully.
“I did too add water!”
Kibum heaved a sigh that was so huge it threatened to blow the box of rice out of Minho's hands. “You didn't stir it.”
Minho nodded quickly, not bothering to remind him that he'd forgotten the salt as well. Catching Jinki’s bewildered gaze, he rolled his eyes, linking his hands behind his back. He was determined not to disturb Key any further, instead watching impatiently as the boy poured fresh rice into the pot, grumbling about the general pathetic condition of the human race.
A blonde head--Jonghyun--appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. He’d been attracted by the noise, and now peered around the scene. His friends were crammed around the tiny stove, obviously holding court over a pot of boiling rice. Jinki was looking trapped, Minho annoyed, and Kibum something between murderous and gleeful. With a mischievous grin playing on his lips he walked further in, waving his hand to get Taemin's attention. “Taemin-ah,” he said sweetly in a voice meant to carry over to the rice-cookers, “would you like to go out and get some ice cream with me?”
Taemin perked up at the suggestion, quickly eating the last bit of meat off of the plate and dropping his chopsticks next to it unceremoniously. “Yeah! Let's go.”
“I'll come with too!” Jinki said, trying to take a step out of the corner he was assigned to.
Kibum flung out an arm without looking, locking his hyung in his place. “No,” he said sternly, “you're staying right here in this kitchen until you can make rice. Without milk.”
He whimpered.
“I'll go then, so you can focus on him, and you can teach me after.” Minho was wheedling, cajoling, trying desperately to get out of his unfavorable position as the one who started this whole situation. Getting ice cream with Jonghyun and Taemin sounded infinitely better than what he was currently doing. “I'll bring you both back some ice cream.”
Kibum glanced at him, pitiless. “No, you're staying here too. Taemin will bring us some ice cream, won't you, Taemin?” His eyes fell on the table and his (very empty) plate. It only took a moment for him to connect the dots. “Taemin!”
Taemin was already halfway out the door with Jonghyun, not bothering to look the least bit sorry or abashed. “I'll get you chocolate, Kibum-umma!”