The Way to Jinchul's Heart is not Through the Hospital (drabble)
Title: The Way to Jinchul's Heart is not Through the Hospital
Pairing Jinchul/Younghak
Rating: G
Word Count: 1116
Warnings: none
Summary: Some people belong in the kitchen, others do not.
Notes: For ribambelles who is my partner in KANON IS REAL crime.
At ten in the evening, Jinchul steps through the front door with nothing on his mind beyond going straight to his bunk and not waking up for at least four hours, which in the past had never been enough but nowadays feels like a blessing. According to the schedule, the others have been home all day, so he crosses his fingers that they're well rested enough to take care of themselves but not too well rested to feel up to bothering him.
He pauses after removing his shoes and listens. Not a sound from the living room-- a good sign. The living room is empty, but the lights are on, meaning that someone is home and awake. He can hear quiet voices echoing from the direction of the bedroom. Calm, unexcited voices. Rested but not restless. He smiles sleepily and tumbles onto the couch.
"I'm home!" he calls out, and he gets the customary calls back, but nothing else. He inhales deeply into the soft fabric of the couch cushions. No bodies flying from across the room to tackle him. No screeched complaints about such-and-such doing this or that to so-and-so. No obnoxious demands for food right now.
Actually, speaking of food-- he lifts his head up just enough to take another thoughtful sniff. He listens, too, and sure enough the tell-tale sounds of clanging pots and pans and the occasional hiss of food hitting hot surfaces meet his ears from the nearby kitchen. Someone is cooking something, and damn, it smells great. It takes all of his effort to get himself back off the couch, shuffling over to the doorway connecting the two rooms.
The first thing he notices is the apron, or rather, the pink, frilly bow that is the back of the apron. Seunghyun's apron, to be specific, bought by Yejun as a gag Christmas present which unfortunately has been put to use since, the most unfortunate thing about that being the nightmare-quality dishes produced by combining Lee Seunghyun with cookware. In his own opinion, Seunghyun is a gourmet chef. In Jinchul's opinion, it's a miracle none of them have been sent to the hospital by his friend's concoctions yet. That's exactly what they need: more hospital trips.
Judging from the smell alone, though, Seunghyun cannot possibly be the one cooking. Sure enough, the body in the apron is too tall to be Seunghyun, moving too awkwardly and humming to himself in a way that's charming in its own way, but not nearly as melodic as when Seunghyun does the same. A spatula in one hand and the other firmly on his hip, Younghak stirs around the mysterious contents of a pan, the eyesore of an apron around his waist. He grabs a handful of chopped carrots from the cutting board and tosses it in with surprising grace. Then something hisses and he curses, the spatula flying through the air and almost hitting Jinchul in the face as Younghak sprints the whole three feet to the sink to put his hand under the cold water.
Jinchul's grunt of surprise manages to get Younghak's attention. "Hyung, you home?" he asks with his hand still immersed.
"Just got home," Jinchul yawns, trying to hide his earlier surprise. "You're... cooking."
That earns him a proud grin and a nod. "Yejun said it was my turn."
Jinchul isn't aware that they'd been taking turns, considering Seunghyun had taken it upon himself to cook for them every night the past two weeks, but he's not complaining at the prospect of a change. "Smells good," he replies. It's the safest thing to say, probably.
Younghak gives another cheerful nod and returns to his pan. "Mom taught me, but this isn't much. Anyone can make stir fry."
Anyone except Seunghyun. Jinchul clears his throat. "I had no idea you cooked."
At that, Younghak turns and frowns at his friend over his shoulder. "Everyone cooks, hyung."
"Some people shouldn't, though," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes with a hand.
"You say something?"
"Nothing important."
He leans against the doorway and watches his friend at the stove. A few more ingredients go into the pan, Younghak does an amazing movie where he flips the entire contents just by moving the pan itself. "It's all in the wrist," he says sheepishly when he catches Jinchul watching, mouth hanging open both in awe and because he's too tired to keep himself from drooling at the amazing smell coming from that magical pan.
"Want to try?" Younghak asks shyly as he sets down the pan.
Jinchul just nods dumbly and steps over to the stove. Younghak scoops a little into a spoon and blows on it a few times before stopping, frowning, and shoving it toward Jinchul. "Careful, it's hot. You should blow on it." Then he turns away and pretends to pay no attention, though Jinchul can see him taking occasional peeks out of the corner of his eye.
He shoves the spoon into his mouth and regrets it at first, because it really is hot but any kind of a negative reaction might be enough to scare the skittish wild beast Younghak out of the kitchen forever. Once his tongue stops stinging, though, Jinchul almost moans. Either he's really, really tired or this is seriously the best food he's ever tasted. The chicken is cooked perfectly, not the least bit raw or burnt. Tears well up in his eyes thinking back to all of the times he's had to force himself to swallow undercooked chicken or raw vegetables. Younghak is still watching him, though, waiting for a reaction, so Jinchul chews and swallows it quickly. What a waste. "It's... good," he mumbles as he hands back the spoon.
Younghak just stares, all doe eyes and insecurity.
"It's really good," he adds ands gruffly turns away. Younghak smiles so hard he's almost sparkling in his girly pink apron, but smile is the only sign of his glee as he gives a small noncommittal noise and returns to cooking.
"Well, don't you two look sweet," a surly voice drawls from the hall. Jinchul almost jumps and Younghak just keeps cooking.
"Will you go tell Yejun that it's ready, hyung?" Younghak innocently asks Seunghyun, who now stands in the doorway.
He locks Jinchul in a heated glare. "Traitor," he growls as he turns back to get the youngest.
Jinchul sighs heavily while Younghak fills four plates with steamed rice and chicken stir fry. "I'm dead," he groans.
"Don't worry," Younghak chirps as he hands Jinchul a plate. "He'll be much happier when he's full."
True enough, Jinchul thinks as he grabs a pair of chopsticks and starts to dig in before he's even out of the kitchen.
Pairing Jinchul/Younghak
Rating: G
Word Count: 1116
Warnings: none
Summary: Some people belong in the kitchen, others do not.
Notes: For ribambelles who is my partner in KANON IS REAL crime.
At ten in the evening, Jinchul steps through the front door with nothing on his mind beyond going straight to his bunk and not waking up for at least four hours, which in the past had never been enough but nowadays feels like a blessing. According to the schedule, the others have been home all day, so he crosses his fingers that they're well rested enough to take care of themselves but not too well rested to feel up to bothering him.
He pauses after removing his shoes and listens. Not a sound from the living room-- a good sign. The living room is empty, but the lights are on, meaning that someone is home and awake. He can hear quiet voices echoing from the direction of the bedroom. Calm, unexcited voices. Rested but not restless. He smiles sleepily and tumbles onto the couch.
"I'm home!" he calls out, and he gets the customary calls back, but nothing else. He inhales deeply into the soft fabric of the couch cushions. No bodies flying from across the room to tackle him. No screeched complaints about such-and-such doing this or that to so-and-so. No obnoxious demands for food right now.
Actually, speaking of food-- he lifts his head up just enough to take another thoughtful sniff. He listens, too, and sure enough the tell-tale sounds of clanging pots and pans and the occasional hiss of food hitting hot surfaces meet his ears from the nearby kitchen. Someone is cooking something, and damn, it smells great. It takes all of his effort to get himself back off the couch, shuffling over to the doorway connecting the two rooms.
The first thing he notices is the apron, or rather, the pink, frilly bow that is the back of the apron. Seunghyun's apron, to be specific, bought by Yejun as a gag Christmas present which unfortunately has been put to use since, the most unfortunate thing about that being the nightmare-quality dishes produced by combining Lee Seunghyun with cookware. In his own opinion, Seunghyun is a gourmet chef. In Jinchul's opinion, it's a miracle none of them have been sent to the hospital by his friend's concoctions yet. That's exactly what they need: more hospital trips.
Judging from the smell alone, though, Seunghyun cannot possibly be the one cooking. Sure enough, the body in the apron is too tall to be Seunghyun, moving too awkwardly and humming to himself in a way that's charming in its own way, but not nearly as melodic as when Seunghyun does the same. A spatula in one hand and the other firmly on his hip, Younghak stirs around the mysterious contents of a pan, the eyesore of an apron around his waist. He grabs a handful of chopped carrots from the cutting board and tosses it in with surprising grace. Then something hisses and he curses, the spatula flying through the air and almost hitting Jinchul in the face as Younghak sprints the whole three feet to the sink to put his hand under the cold water.
Jinchul's grunt of surprise manages to get Younghak's attention. "Hyung, you home?" he asks with his hand still immersed.
"Just got home," Jinchul yawns, trying to hide his earlier surprise. "You're... cooking."
That earns him a proud grin and a nod. "Yejun said it was my turn."
Jinchul isn't aware that they'd been taking turns, considering Seunghyun had taken it upon himself to cook for them every night the past two weeks, but he's not complaining at the prospect of a change. "Smells good," he replies. It's the safest thing to say, probably.
Younghak gives another cheerful nod and returns to his pan. "Mom taught me, but this isn't much. Anyone can make stir fry."
Anyone except Seunghyun. Jinchul clears his throat. "I had no idea you cooked."
At that, Younghak turns and frowns at his friend over his shoulder. "Everyone cooks, hyung."
"Some people shouldn't, though," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes with a hand.
"You say something?"
"Nothing important."
He leans against the doorway and watches his friend at the stove. A few more ingredients go into the pan, Younghak does an amazing movie where he flips the entire contents just by moving the pan itself. "It's all in the wrist," he says sheepishly when he catches Jinchul watching, mouth hanging open both in awe and because he's too tired to keep himself from drooling at the amazing smell coming from that magical pan.
"Want to try?" Younghak asks shyly as he sets down the pan.
Jinchul just nods dumbly and steps over to the stove. Younghak scoops a little into a spoon and blows on it a few times before stopping, frowning, and shoving it toward Jinchul. "Careful, it's hot. You should blow on it." Then he turns away and pretends to pay no attention, though Jinchul can see him taking occasional peeks out of the corner of his eye.
He shoves the spoon into his mouth and regrets it at first, because it really is hot but any kind of a negative reaction might be enough to scare the skittish wild beast Younghak out of the kitchen forever. Once his tongue stops stinging, though, Jinchul almost moans. Either he's really, really tired or this is seriously the best food he's ever tasted. The chicken is cooked perfectly, not the least bit raw or burnt. Tears well up in his eyes thinking back to all of the times he's had to force himself to swallow undercooked chicken or raw vegetables. Younghak is still watching him, though, waiting for a reaction, so Jinchul chews and swallows it quickly. What a waste. "It's... good," he mumbles as he hands back the spoon.
Younghak just stares, all doe eyes and insecurity.
"It's really good," he adds ands gruffly turns away. Younghak smiles so hard he's almost sparkling in his girly pink apron, but smile is the only sign of his glee as he gives a small noncommittal noise and returns to cooking.
"Well, don't you two look sweet," a surly voice drawls from the hall. Jinchul almost jumps and Younghak just keeps cooking.
"Will you go tell Yejun that it's ready, hyung?" Younghak innocently asks Seunghyun, who now stands in the doorway.
He locks Jinchul in a heated glare. "Traitor," he growls as he turns back to get the youngest.
Jinchul sighs heavily while Younghak fills four plates with steamed rice and chicken stir fry. "I'm dead," he groans.
"Don't worry," Younghak chirps as he hands Jinchul a plate. "He'll be much happier when he's full."
True enough, Jinchul thinks as he grabs a pair of chopsticks and starts to dig in before he's even out of the kitchen.