His cutting board was worn and rough edges but the fact that there were no splinters in his fingers, despite whatever Jongin might have said, meant that he was going to keep it until it became irretrievably damaged. Kyungsoo wasn’t especially practiced at this, not really sure how the knife was meant to fall against the wood but he was also of the opinion that if the carrots ended up chopped and of the relatively same size, it didn’t matter much. Working with such an attitude had allowed some of the more anxious thoughts that had pulled at his mind when his dabbling in cooking had kicked off. Jongin still pestered him about receiving thanks for the whispered words that kept his mind calm but once again Kyungsoo operated on a basis of pragmatism; his fiancé knew that it’d helped, so why bother repeating it?

“It’s hard to look right at you baby~” The voice the words belonged to strayed distinctly from the original song, lending a more husky, vanilla tone to the otherwise too sugary vocals, though despite the auditory pleasure, Jongin hadn’t earnt anything other than a exasperated smirk over his shoulder. “Mm I love it when you look at me like that baby.” Another roll of his eyes as muscular arms wound around his waist, only stopping when they bumped against the marble edge of the counter.

“Like I’m about to hit your face with this very spoon? Is that how you like me looking at you?” Kyungsoo’s voice was teasing if not skirted by a tense irritation that always came with being interrupted while he was cooking.

A sharp chin came to rest on his shoulder, clearly showing Jongin’s intentions of doing anything other than moving away; letting out a deep sigh Kyungsoo resigned himself to his fate. “I dunno babe, you’re pretty y when you’re angry.” The husky syllables tickled at the edges of his ears, giving away that his fiancé was stooping to maintain their position.

Stirring had never been more fascinating than it had been in that moment. Kyungsoo was never one for too much outward affection was why it always jarred him when Jongin tried to engage him in it. “I’m always angry.” he retorted, not quite ready to give up his stern exterior just yet — despite how long they’d been domestic his stoic qualities were ones that still needed shaking.

Humming reverberated through his chest cavity as Jongin turned his head and began pressing tender kisses against his neck, nosing at the curve that formed the base of his ear. “I know baby, that’s why you’re always y.” It was a rattling breath that gave him away, escaping before he’d even thought about making, leaving Kyungsoo with a broad red blush blossoming on his face and a self satisfied standing behind him.

“Don’t think you’re too special. Now move, I gotta put the dubu into fry unless it’s not gonna be crispy the way you like.” He wasn’t granted that much, only loosened arms and a slight step away from his body — enough to grab the plate of pre-sliced dubu and step over to the pan. Closing his eyes in frustration Kyungsoo drew in a deep breath before turning his head until his lips nearly brushed his partner’s. “Sweetheart, I gotta get to the pan.” One would have thought that the endearment would have budged Jongin a little but his efforts were all for nought.

Shaking his head with a prominent bottom lip that Kyungsoo knew was deliberate his response was low and warm, “Two things: if I wasn’t so special I wouldn’t be the one you said yes to marrying.” The first part was said with more self-satisfaction that Kyungsoo cared for but the logic and argument were stable so he didn’t argue, instead bracing himself for the second ‘point’ Jongin had decided he’d make. “Second, if you really loved me we’d be eating fried chicken rather than some dubu meal or whatever that white stuff is.” This time he was a little more petulant, reverting to the sixteen year old he’d met for the first time in the dance practice rooms tucked beside the vocal training rooms.

It was a few short blinks that saved his fiancé from an unpleasant fate with the spoon and kept Kyungsoo sane for a few more moments. “You know that the trainer says that we can’t eat fried meat baby. This is just me making sure that you don’t get yelled at again, god knows you don’t need anymore embarrassment.” by this time he’d managed to shuffle over to where he’d been heating a pan for the dubu and was instead struggling with the rather limited mobility of his limbs.

Honestly if he was suddenly informed that he had a child or was suddenly on one of those variety shows where idols took care of children Kyungsoo wouldn’t have been surprised — such was the whine that erupted from Kim Jongin’s lips. “It’s not like he’s gonna know~!” was the refrain that he was met with as he continued on with the seemingly impossible task of preparing their dinner.

His raised eyebrow was all he need to silence the whining, earning him a sorry look from the younger man and a momentarily tighter grip around the waist — something he would find endearing were it not for the fact that he was handling rather hot oil. “You know that they will know. For chrissakes they knew when you had fries two weeks before the meeting had been even scheduled.” While his tone was final, and were he talking to any of the other members they would acknowledge it was so, Jongin was indifferent, forging ahead with his own train of though unerringly.

“That was just a lucky guess, there’s no way that they actually knew though is there?” They’d returned to the position they’d been occupying before, Jongin’s hands around his waist and head on Kyungsoo’s shoulder, no matter how uncomfortable or awkward it got.

His shoulders sagged with a deep sigh and although it would have meant Jongin needed to stoop lower but he dutifully did so, never breaking the skinship. “Probably not babe but with you it is a pretty good bet to say that you’ve at least tried to break the diet once.” Kyungsoo threw the comment over his shoulder as he placed the the slivers of dubu into the pan, careful to make sure that they were well distributed across where the hotplate would be delivering heat.

Jongin’s eyes followed his movements for a few more moments (the familiar burn of the attention warmed the back of his hands) before he deigned Kyungsoo with a reply. “I find that comment, however accurate, to be offensive and demand that you take it back or compensate for the hurt.” It was all he could manage to stifle the laughter that threatened to push passed his lips but Kyungsoo didn’t really feel like dealing with anymore bruising to his fiancé’s ego this evening.

They both knew where this was going to go, Kyungsoo rarely, if ever, took back the comments that he made unless there had been true hurt that had occurred and considering that wasn’t the case things were very skewed towards the ‘compensation’ option. “What kind of compensation are we talking about here?” he asked, still skeptical about what his would-be-husband had planned, when realistically he new that it would go down this route. He set down his chopsticks for fear that he might stab them into the other’s thigh should he be displeased with whatever his suggestion happened to be.

Regret soon settled in his stomach as Jongin turned him around, facing him away from the pan and instead pulling him close enough that their noses brushed when Jongin tilted his head. “I like the idea of you kissing me until the dubu is ready to be seasoned and eaten.” A cheeky smirk flitted across his face, teasing Kyungsoo in that ever so tempting way that only Jongin could really pull off.

“Mm and pray tell, how am I meant to know if it’s done when I have your lips against mine and presumably your hands half way up my shirt?” Kyungsoo queried, injecting just a trace of genuine concern into his words, completing the ruse with a tilt of his head. “I need a time limit.” he ‘finally’ decided with a nod, sticking out his bottom lip as he looked up at Jongin, knowing the other couldn’t refuse him with this expression.

His efforts were met with a tired sigh before Kai’s hands reached around him, picking up the timer beside the cooktop. “Eight minutes should be good right?” He sounded hopefully and once again Kyungsoo was reminded that he was dating someone that had no clue about cooking at all.

“Eight minutes should be perfect.” He assured him, watching as the other set the time, waiting until he’d set the clock back on to the counter before he moved his hands up to rest on his fiancé’s broad shoulders.

“Ready.”

“Set.”

“Go.”

AN//

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