Park Chaeyoung had been out of it since the morning and it certainly doesn’t help when he’s right behind her, head resting on her shoulders and arms around her waist as she begins cutting vegetables for the juice she was insistent on making them drink. He’s murmuring something incoherently that she can’t quite understand but given the tone and the fact that it was five in the morning, she figures that in the gist of things, he was complaining about waking up before the double digits to an empty bed.

“Even God isn’t awake at this time can’t we go back to sleep?” He nags playfully. 

She can’t help but let out a giggle at the feeling of his breath against her neck before she turns, hitting his forehead lightly with a celery stick. 

“Are you going to complain all day or help me out? This was a recipe from Yoongi, he heard that I went to hospital and raved so much about this recipe in helping him recover so I gotta go,” she explains, eyes falling from his messy bed hair to the way his brows furrowed in disapproval, “… don’t be too grumpy, you won’t age well.” 

“Don’t normal people have orange juice in the morning, not this weird celery and beetroot thing? And what is this even?” He holds out a piece of kale, “… I feel like this is something rabbits eat, not humans.” 

Park Chaeyoung lets out a breathy laugh as she puts the knife down, walking over to the sink as she washes her hands, quickly setting up the juicer. 

“You’re free to go back to sleep, Mr Moody,” she teases, pointing to the bedroom, “… the bedroom is that way.” 

He rolls his eyes, “… and so why are we here then?” 

She smiles, pressing her forefinger against his nose, “… I want to go to the gym before I go to the office. Stop complaining.”

“Shouldn’t you be resting not exercising, I mean if you really want to exercise we could just have in your room you burn more calories and clothes are option—”

“Kim Taehyung!” She hisses, jokingly hitting him against his upper hand, “… that’s inappropriate.” 

He chuckles, fingers roughly running through bed hair before he quickly holds her by the sides of her waist, lifting her onto the countertop. She squeals, pinching him on the shoulder in protest. 

“Alright, just sit down and enjoy the show I’ll juice this for you,” he speaks, a sheepi