Seungri was struggling. He knew how to cook. He'd starred in a cooking show for crying out loud! But for some reason his hands were shaking and they wouldn't stop. His hyung would be home soon and he wanted this dinner to be perfect. It had to be perfect. He dragged his palms against his jeans, drying already dry palms.

He pushed his white hair out of his eyes, slightly damp from stress-sweat. He blew up, fluffing his bangs. He scrunched his face and went in search of a cap, which he affixed backwards on his head to keep his hair out of his face.

"Ok, Lee Seunghyun," he spoke to himself. "You are a kitchen God. You can do this. It's just spaghetti. Top-hyung loves spaghetti."

Somehow that did not appease the butterflies in his stomach. What were they even doing in there? ing?

He shook his head at the inane thought. How did butterflies procreate anyways? He wondered. No, focus.

He dug through his hyung's cabinets, pulling out a saucepan and a large pot. He set the pot in the sink to fill with water while he began cutting and chopping at the vegetables for the salad. He bit his lower lip as he cut, focused on not slicing a finger. No injuries, not today.

Once the pot filled he set it on the gas stove, adding salt liberally. He knew how to cook.

He began tossing the salad, and his eyes glazed, his mind flying back to the last time he and his hyung had been in bed. Seunghyun had a talented, long and hungry tongue.

"," he looked down. Half the salad had spilled onto the counter. He'd been shaking it too vigorously. "Damnit," he muttered as he scooped it back into the salad bowl, "he does have a good tongue, though." He refused to acknowledge that he was talking to himself in Seunghyun's kitchen.

He set the salad aside and began the sauce, loading vegetables, tomatoes and oil in the pan. He hummed as he stirred, loading the pasta once the water had boiled up. Once it was all cooked up he mixed the pasta into the sauce, tasting occasionally. Perfect.

He decanted a bottle of wine, and set a bottle of champagne to chill. He hoped tonight would be cause enough for celebration. He retrieved the bread he'd been warming in the oven and cut it into crusty, soft slices, drizzling them with oil and shredded basil.He just had to put the spaghetti into the serving dish before his hyung got here, then slip into the bedroom to change. That's all he had to-

"Seungriyah!"

Seungri's heart flipped over, and his feet caught in themselves. "Nooooo," he shouted as he watched the bowl of spaghetti slip from his hands. It crashed, sending sticky pasta and red sauce everywhere, splattering his clothes and face, the floor, the cabinets, the tops of his hyung's perfectly shined dress shoes.

"Hyung you scared me," Seungri whined, feeling pain tug at the back of his throat. His perfect dinner lay splattered across Seunghyun's kitchen. He slumped down into the middle of the mess, looking up sadly.

"Aw baby, its ok." Seunghyun knelt down in the muck to Seungri's arms.  "Were you cooking for me?"

Seungri nodded. "Here, you go get cleaned up and I'll get this." Seunghyun gestured to the mess. He pressed a gentle kiss onto Seungri's forehead. "This looks like it would have been so good. Thank you." His voice was a gentle whisper. Seungri nodded, feeling the threatening sting of tears.

Numbly he stood and shuffled to the bedroom where his intended suit lay across the bed. Pitifully, he slumped into the bathroom to stand in the shower, fully clothed. The warm water felt a little better. He stripped off his wet, stained clothes and worked the sauce from the tips of his bangs. How'd it even get there? he wondered.

Maybe - maybe the night could be salvaged, he thought, as he stepped into the bedroom and pulled on his dress slacks. Maybe.

Shrugging into his dress shirt he patted at the pockets of his suit coat, still on the bed. His heart sunk. "Noooo-" he whispered frantically. He turned the coat inside out. No it wasn't there. "Nonononono."

He patted at the pants. He ran into the bathroom to turn out the pockets of his jeans. Horror settled in the pit of his gut. He'd left them on the table. He'd meant to grab them before he came to dress. Maybe Seungyun hadn't -

Barefoot and half dressed he ran to the kitchen. Seunghyun stood in the center of a half-cleaned mess - a little black box held in one trembling hand, two small envelopes in the other.

"Seungri-yah," he whispered, eyes large as they looked up to meet the younger man. "Lee Seunghyun," he said, his voice low.

Blood rushed into Seungri's face, an embarrassed overheated flush.

"I was-" he started.

"You were-" Seunghyun answered.

Seungri crossed to his hyung, his love, his world. He crossed and knelt at Seunghyun's feet, hand grasping the small box in his hand.

"Seunghyun-ah," Seungri whispered. "I love you, with everything that I am." Seunghyun's wide eyes softened as he realized what was happening.

Seungri flipped open the top of the box, revealing two plain titanium bands. "Choi Seunghyun, will you marry me?"

His hyung's face lit up, a boyish smile spreading his lips. He tugged up on Seungri's hands, pulling him up into a searing kiss. Hands tangled in Seungri's wet hair and his head nodded into the kiss. They broke apart.

"Yes, yes yes," Seunghyun chanted. He pulled Seungri into a tight hug. He lifted the second hand. "But what is this?" he asked.

"Tickets," Seungri murmured into Seunghyun's neck. "It's legal in America now. I thought-" he broke off to look back into Seunghyun's eyes.

"I thought we could have the ceremony there. We'd have to figure out what to do here but - but-,"

Seunghyun kissed him again.

"I'm sorry I ruined dinner," Seungri said as they broke to breathe.

"Dinner was perfect," Seunghyun said as he placed both hands on either side of Seungri's face, box and envelopes left on the counter as he pushed the younger man back towards the bedroom.