Not two days after Tao’s return, the orchestra bids a tearful farewell to the last gong in its service. At least Tao looks appropriately guilty when everyone trudges in on Sunday morning for an emergency meeting.

Kris raps the podium, “thank you all for coming. As you all know, we recently lost the last gong in storage,” pointed looks at Tao, who frowns, “and I’m unhappy to report that with current funds, we cannot afford to replace it.”

Mumbles break out and Xiumin cries, “but we need a gong!”

Kris scowls, “I’m well aware of that. Which is why I’ve spoken with the conductor and he has approved a small fundraiser to serve this end.”

Kai scoffs, “fundraisers? What are we, in high school?”

Kris glares, “in your case, yes. Moving on, I think it’ll be best if we bounce some fundraising ideas around.”

Baekhyun’s hand shoots up, “we can do a rendition of that popular pop song – Sparkle or something,” he casts a wistful look in Taeyeon’s direction, “in costume. People will pay big bucks to see it.”

While Taeyeon is oblivious and Chanyeol is nodding in fervent agreement (as has become the norm for all things Baekhyun), the rest of the orchestra is markedly less enthusiastic about the prospect of cross-dressing.

Kris grimaces, “maybe next time. Any other suggestions?”

Baekhyun sulks and the rest of the group remains unhelpfully silent; Kris is about to unleash a verbal onslaught when D.O timidly voices, “what about a bake sale?”

He’s definitely not getting any points for originality there but Kris can’t see anyone else even coming up with an idea. Plus, bake sales are tried and true.

“If there are no objections,” there aren’t, “anyone who’s free this afternoon, meet back here at two. Bring recipes. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to dig into our already limited funds to purchase baking supplies,” Kris pulls an offended face, “contact me if you need specific ingredients, otherwise, I don’t want to hear from you.”

Two o’clock sees a dozen orchestra members gathered in the practice chamber. To be honest, the turnout is much better than Kris had expected.

“I didn’t expect this many of you to show up,” Kris admits, “my kitchen isn’t big enough to hold all of us so I’d appreciate it if someone else can also offer up their apartment.”

There is an unspoken no pressure but no one’s falling for it: there is definitely the threat of bodily harm somewhere in that request. D.O quickly volunteers, “we can use my place.”

“Excellent,” Kris smirks (smugly), “we should break off into two groups and–”

Two minutes later, Kris is stuck with a disgruntled group consisting of Lay, Luhan, Xiumin, Chen, and Tao while everyone else runs off into the safety of D.O’s culinary expertise.

“Damn it all,” Lay mumbles under his breath as they file into Kris’s minivan.

“I just hope we survive,” Xiumin squeaks and Kris floors the gas in spite.

The kitchen in Kris’s apartment is spacious and well-kept, lulling everyone into a (false) sense of security. In fact, Luhan looks downright optimistic. Sadly, said optimism is short-lived.

By unanimous vote (read: at Tao’s insistence), they start with Chen’s recipe for deep-fried, Krispy Kreme donuts. After two ruined batters, Kris is relegated to minding the stovetop with Xiumin.

The third batch of batter is just about done when a scream breaks out, “holy I’m on fire!”

Sure enough, Xiumin is flailing in panic while Kris glares unhelpfully at Xiumin’s burning apron, as if trying to extinguish the flame through sheer force of intimidation.

“Take it off!”

“I can’t! Where’s the fire extinguisher?”

“Just ing stop, drop, and roll!”

Everyone looks at Kris oddly, and Xiumin cries, “how?”

“Like a buffalo,” growls Kris, “I don’t ing know. Just drop and roll dammit!”

In that very moment, the sprinklers come on and ruin two hours of hard work (and Tao’s favorite Gucci bag). After everything is sorted with the fire department, it’s well past dinnertime.

“Hopefully D.O’s group had better luck,” Lay mutters sullenly and the rest nod in agreement.

Monday morning, Suho walks into practice with a (disgusting) look of domestic bliss on his face that Kris just wants to punch. D.O, too, looks right pleased with himself and even Kai and Sehun are chipper (and not bickering). Plus, Baekhyun and Chanyeol have clearly sorted out their differences and are now bosom buddies (Kris didn’t even know he knew the term bosom buddies but vows to strike it from his vocabulary).

“The hell happened,” demands Kris.

“D.O’s cooking is magical,” Sehun whispers conspiratorially and returns to giggling with Kai.

“Did you drug my musicians?” Kris narrows his eyes.

“Of course not,” Suho bristles (or as close as someone like Suho can get to bristling), “though I’d like to know what happened with your group. They look like they’ve been through a war.”

“Might as well have,” Lay grumbles.

“Minor hiccups,” Kris dismisses, “but I was thinking we just combined the materials we have left and see what we can scrounge up. We can’t really afford to spend any more of the orchestra funds.”

Suho waves him off, smiling, “don’t worry. We made a ton of baked goods and snack foods yesterday. D.O’s a great cook; we’ll raise that money in no time.”

Kris is a hair’s breadth away from worshipping the ground on which D.O treads but he keeps himself in check.

Just as well because Tao bursts into the room, grinning around a mouthful of food, “best buffet ever! Why did no one ever tell me we did breakfast buffets?”

“We don’t,” Kris says, horror dawning upon his features.

“Liar,” Tao pouts, “it’s great! There’s cake and cookies and kimchi spaghetti – and did I mention there’s cake? Sweet, delicious cake! God, if I knew about this sooner, I would’ve never been late for rehearsal, ever.”

“Tao,” Suho asks, slowly and with great trepidation, “is there any food left?”

“Huh,” Tao blinks, “oh no. If you wanted food, you should’ve gotten some earlier. It’s all gone now,” a grin, “early bird gets the cake and all.”

Kris feels his insides wilt a little when he writes a personal cheque to cover Tao’s complimentary breakfast buffet (which in turn covers the amount needed to replace the gong—which Tao broke).

His alpaca farm will just have to wait.