Fancy dinners & Foreign films

"Where did you learn to cook like that, hyung?"

Jiyong the buttons of his jacket sleeve, unconscious behaviour that could pass for deliberate if he chose so. It was a way to distract himself from thoughts he didn’t want to ponder on right now -- such as how tonight’s interview would be perceived by the public and whether he’d made a fool of himself or not.

Asking this question also was a strategy to steer his mind from unhappy thoughts to happier ones: like the memory of a very satisfying meal and the fact that Seunghyun of all people could take substantial credit for that.

That was not puzzling at all.

Jiyong turned his head to the left to find Seunghyun staring rather intently at his iPod, model both outdated and filled with songs Jiyong would never listen to. Well, except as some kind of grand gesture in the name of friendship and / or musical broadening.

Jiyong was sure Seunghyun had heard him, despite the headphones being there, and sure enough: after another second of fiddling Seunghyun turned his body towards him and even removed his headphones.

“The soup. How did you do it?”

Seunghyun shrugged, a bit sheepishly. His iPod got turned over from his right to his left hand.

“Dunno, it came sort of naturally? Most of the time I wasn’t even sure what I was doing, to be honest.”

He let out a sound that was half laugh, half rumble. “I was really surprised myself.”

Jiyong kept his gaze for a few seconds, searching for something though not even knowing what; and then huffed in surrender.

“Okay. So natural cooking talents then?”

Seunghyun’s mouth quirked up a bit, as though that suggestion was very amusing, and then made to readjust his headphones, assuming the conversation to be over.

“Oi, hyung --” Jiyong caught his gaze, before turning towards the window and resuming his comfy leaning position from earlier, “know that I expect a second meal now, huh? You could just become my permanent cook.”

Seunghyun didn’t make a reply but there was the mental image of his hyung dressed in cooking outfit, wielding a ladle; and Jiyong smiled indulgently at the window, Seoul blurredly passing by like neon-colour splashed on dark canvas.

 

Jiyong wasn’t one to let an offer of free food pass, not if it pertained outtake. Yes, it was banned from their menu by master Hwang, but what do you know  -- Jiyong was blessed with a very effective metabolism. And as for Seunghun, well, he had the habit of breaking rules first and making it up to himself in the gym later.

So there’s that.

The text didn’t say what was on the menu, but Jiyong hoped for pizza. It’d been too long time since the last one (or two, or three).

So that’s why he showed up on Seunghyun’s doorstep that evening only twenty minutes late. Yes, being punctual was part of his work ethic, but in his spare time he was allowed to run late -- heightening of anticipation you could say.

Upon opening the door Seunghyun showed his trademark dorky smile and Jiyong quirked one in return before stepping over the threshold without further ado.

Who needed greetings anyway.

He did hand him a dvd as he unwrapped his scarf and put his jacked on the peg, with the accompanying words, “Thought we could watch that tonight.”

Seunghyun regarded it with a bemused look, then flipped it over to get a look at the summary. “Is this like a foreign film?”

“It has subtitles so don’t worry,” Jiyong huffed in equal exasperation and fondness. This was starting to become a recurring conversation.

“So did you order pizza or should I?”

“Jiyong-ah, I invited you over so I’ve taken care of the food,” Seunghyun replied with an amused look that said that, yes, etiquette was not his strong suit and yes, both knew.

“Manners,” Jiyong replied with a half-lopped smile and then made his way to the living room.

He there found something he’d not ever expected to find, namely a laid table. There was nothing extraordinary per se about a table with white table cloth and plates on it, except for the fact that this was Seungyun’s house and that table should be either bare or filled with trivial nonsense, for when Seunghyun didn’t feel like cleaning and let Jiyong scold him for it.

“We‘re… gonna eat the pizza there?”

“That’s the point of dining tables, isn’t it?” Seunghyun supplied rather unnecessarily, either stating the obvious on purpose or… yes, stating the obvious on purpose.

“That’s gonna be one fancy pizza,” Jiyong remarked with a hint of breathlessness, sliding into one of the dining chairs -- and if he felt a twirl of anticipation he didn’t deny, because Seunghyun just did not deviate from habits.

Unless he did, and anything became fair game.

“Maybe,” Seunghyun offered with a little smile that betrayed the neutral tone of his voice. He then made for the kitchen to go get the pizza or -- whatever it was -- and Jiyong was left to stare at the gleaming cutlery.

Had Seunghyun actually polished all these himself? Jiyong absently mused (a thought that was more amusing than it should be) or bought for the occasion? Purchasing fancy cutlery seemed more a thing he himself would do, but hey, Seunghyun did like his fancy things.

Apparently enough to use for pizza.

And that was just taking decadence a notch too far, even for yours truly.

When Seunghyun re-emerged from the kitchen, though, it was clear that there would be no pizza on the menu tonight. Rather, it was a very deliciously-smelling something contained in a silver pan, and if Jiyong might have felt disappointment about his forfeited pizza, it was quenched entirely by curiosity over the contents of said bowl plus the dawning realisation that Seunghyun had cooked for him -- perhaps...

…had he?

Seunghyun placed the pan on the table, but before Jiyong could say anything he retreated to the kitchen again with the words, “Don’t peek.”

“Wait -- there’s more? How many is there?”

His answer came the very next minute, when he looked at a table filled with dishes that both looked and smelled deliciously. And beneath his numb amazement, he really needed to get this straight.

“Hyung, you -- made this?”

Instead of getting a straight-up answer, Seunghyun merely sort-of smiled, a combination of shy and pleased that he had long since mastered, and that gave him all the answers he needed.

Jiyong didn’t know what to say and so instead swallowed.

It did nothing to the lump in his throat.

This feeling of being -- cared for -- it was silly to get emotional about it, because he received love everyday -- yet this was different. This was not for being G-dragon but for being Kwon Jiyong; this was not for being a part of Big Bang but for being himself, both the good and the bad… and somehow this meal felt like a give-back for all the times he’d given his all for other people, all the times he’d joked about how he gave but never received (jokes that were only so much really jokes.)

But Seunghyun had remembered.

He had remembered.

“Shame I’ve missed you in apron,” Jiyong remarked with a little grin, because he needed to say something to regain the grip on himself.

Getting emotional was not an option.

“Well, maybe I’ll let you watch next time,” Seunghyun remarked, with just enough cheek in his tone to get Jiyong to focus again.

“Just, can we eat now?”

“Manners,’ Seunghyun quipped in obvious reference to all the times Jiyong had called him out on that; but he lifted the lids nonetheless.

Jiyong soon found out that Seunghyun’s cooking skills in Healing Camp had been anything but a fluke. It could be his bias speaking (the fact that his hyung had made this specially for him, the fact that this was a home-cooked meal which always tasted so much better than take-out, if only because of the love and effort you at least assumed to be there) but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed a meal as much as he did this one.

“It’s… really good,” he finally said, after he had tried a little bit of everything, and deemed that to be an accurate enough reflection of his own feelings.

It’s not like he was lying -- he just withheld certain information. Like how he couldn’t believe Seunghyun still managed to surprise him on every turn, and how this dinner actually started to feel very much like a date.

And that was a line of thought not to be pursued, except for those moments when he was either drunk or on the verge of falling asleep (or both) and his brain could be excused for such thoughts.

Silly subconscious and all that.

"So where did you really learn to cook like this, hyung?” He raised one eyebrow. “Still didn’t know what you were doing?”

Seunghyun opened his mouth but then closed it again, giving him an amused smile.

“Well -- all right, I consulted a few recipe books. Well, online recipes, actually.”

He paused, then added, “But I still didn’t really know what I was doing.”

Jiyong let out a disbelieving sound, not knowing whether to be impressed or annoyed, because since when did Seunghyun get to be good at stuff like that?

“I bet you actually used to help your mom in the kitchen, eh?”

Seunghyun showed a dimply smile that only made its appearance when there were happy memories floating around in his mind. “Yeah, actually. Well, I was just a nosy kid getting in the way, but, you know. I liked seeing my mum work.”

Jiyong’s heart squeezed painfully because the mental image of a young Seunghyun trotting after his mother -- plus the way his voice had gained noticeable warmth -- was just a little heart-warming.

He stood hopeless against this kind of charm.

“Aah, you make me feel like a bad son,” Jiyong mumbled through puffed-up cheeks -- which was untrue, but at least better than the alternative of you make me feel all kinds of things and I don’t know what to make of half of them.
     
(Jiyong certainly wasn’t above quoting sappy lines from sappy movies if it meant making the other party happy, but this was Seunghyun and… yes, that was really all the arguments one needed.)

“Hey, you’ve yet to taste this,” Seunghyun remarked, showing him a yellow-ish dish and actually shoving it on his plate without asking permission first.

“Do you plan on stuffing me, hyung?”

“…you don’t mind if I do, do you?”

And there was nothing Jiyong could say to that, because he did kind of have the  reputation for having an endless appetite.

Not unfounded, either.

“Well, as long as I’ll still be able to walk after...”

“There’s always the couch if you can‘t,” Seunghyun guilelessly offered, and Jiyong grinned in the midst of gobbling up the latest dish.

“Right, we still have my amazing movie to look forward to. You do know that you’re kind of stealing my thunder here? I mean, you’re having this whole dinner and then there’s me showing up with only a dvd…”

Seunghyun’s lips dimpled into a smile that was just a tad mischievous. “I know a way you can make up for it.”

“Eh?”

He stared at him from above his spoon, hovering in front of his half-opened mouth.

“My dishwasher broke down this morning, so you can nicely take care of all the wash-up.”

“Oh,” Jiyong said, and made the face that was required in instances like this (“no I don’t want to do it, but, whatever.”)

If doing the dishes hadn’t exactly been the image his mind had conjured up, then the sole blame lay with Seunghyun for being so frustratingly obvious and oblivious at the same time.

Plus, for being generally too attractive.

That too.

“No, you’re helping me, hyung ‘cause there’s no way I’ll get your mess cleaned up in less than an hour.” He paused, then added, “Meaning you’ll have to watch that movie on your own,” which wasn’t so much as an argument as a threat.

Watching a movie on your own meant no person available to use as pillow and / or cuddle partner, after all, and Seunghyun always wanted to cuddle -- it really was one of those things.

(One of those things that happened and absolutely did not need further discussing.)

Seunghyun considered his statement (threat) for a second and then said, “We’ll see.”

Which did not exactly diminish his dissatisfaction.

But, being openly dissatisfied for no other reason than having to do a chore you’re well obliged to do (and perhaps also the discovery that his hyung thought that lightly of missing out on potential cuddling) would be rude and unfit.

Certainly when Seunghyun had cooked this dinner specially for him, and --

Jiyong paused, staring down at his almost-empty bowl.

He had done this specially for him, hadn’t he? As in: he hadn’t had done it for anyone else. He had done it for him.

Jiyong looked up to stare at Seunghyun, busily emptying the last dinner remains from various bowls.

“Hyung,” he said and when Seunghyun looked up at him, question hovering in his dark-brown eyes, Jiyong started, “I--” because he’d always been the type to act first and think after.

Especially in situations like these.   

Ignoring the sudden attack of nerves he went on in what he hoped was a steadfastly voice, “Did you do this specially for me?”

Seunghyun momentarily paused and then answered, “Of course.”

“No, I mean --” he laughed a little, voice betraying him as it hitched slightly -- “did you do it because it was me? Would you have done it for someone else?”

Seunghyun stared at him, then turned his gaze towards his plate, and let out a laugh that wasn’t really a laugh at all, but more a sound for the sake of giving a sound -- a sound for the sake of giving an answer.

“Hyung?”

Seunghyun fiddled with the fork in his hand, turning it over in-between slender fingers that really belonged to a pianist, and not to a figurine-collecting rapper.

However handsome.

“Ah -- maybe,” Seunghyun finally said, and Jiyong‘s eyes snapped away from his fingers to the sharp-blue crown of his head.

That were all the answers he needed.

“I mean,” Seunghyun went on,  “I can’t cook for everyone… and you liked my dish on Healing Camp, so…” he trailed off, apparently feeling he’d already said too much.

Instead of paying attention to his words, Jiyong stared at the vague blush blooming along his hung’s cheeks and neckline.

Tick-tick-tick, it sounded in his ears: heart rate quick and out-of-time.

“Well,” Jiyong finally said, “you’ve almost convinced me to actually do the dishes.”

Seunghyun looked entirely too hopeful at that, so he couldn’t help but stress, “Almost. I said almost.”

His expression didn’t change much, meaning he expected Jiyong to do it anyway.

He was probably right.

“Hyung, “Jiyong sighed, “no wonder you’re still alone if you saddle your dinner guests with all the unpleasant chores…”

Seunghyun gave him a bemused look.

“I don’t do that.”

“Yes you do.”

He laughed once more. “Okay, with you, but you order me around all the time -- so it’s no big deal. Right?”

“It isn‘t,” Jiyong said, standing up and beginning to collect the various bowls -- but because he had never been good in shutting up (because he liked this banter with Seunghyun, liked treading on dangerous grounds) he added, “This is not a date after all, is it?”

The shift in atmosphere was almost imperceptible but still there: Seunghyun’s smile turned a bit awkward and Jiyong felt both a rush of weird excitement and distaste at his own big mouth.

(There was playing safe and then there was playing reckless, and Jiyong had always sympathised more with the latter.)

"No," Seunghyun agreed after a while, eyes still averted, "it isn't."