“Is this really necessary?” Kyungsoo watches from the sofa while Chanyeol flits around the kitchen, a maelstrom of activity in his element. “And are you sure you don’t want my help?”

“Yes, and yes.” Chanyeol smiles, wide and a little goofy. “We’re all gonna be together on the fifth for the lunar new year. I thought it’d be nice to bring in the new whatever year—”

“Gregorian.”

“—just us. Plus, you’re helping by supervising. I’ve never made this before, so keep the fire extinguisher handy.”

Rolling his eyes, Kyungsoo leaves his perch to grab Chanyeol’s arm and roll up his sleeve properly. “With your luck, you’ll catch your shirt, and we’ll be spending the holiday in the emergency room.”

“Hey, we’d still be together, right?” Chanyeol kisses the top of his head and rocks him back and forth in a warm embrace that Kyungsoo pretends to dislike.

“I’d just drop your there and go to the nearest bar. Watch some fireworks on TV.” A pot spits for attention on the stove. “You’re gonna boil over.” Kyungsoo ducks under Chanyeol’s arm and stirs the bean sprouts until he’s shooed away. Retreating back to his spot on the sofa, Kyungsoo watches the trio of dogs wrestle with a stuffing-less ferret toy he’d brought along. Ink and Pepper don’t play much, themselves, but with Toben, they seem to find their playful spirits.

Chanyeol continues his preparations, squeezing water from ingredients and chopping and dicing and mixing. He sings while he works, some composition he’s had stuck in his head. It’s catchy, to Kyungsoo, and he idly wonders what the talented musician was thinking while he came up with it.

The smell of the onions brings Chanyeol nearly to tears, and he sniffles. Kyungsoo has reminded him time and again to refrigerate the onion for half an hour or to chill it in ice water first, but he never does. Maybe he doesn’t believe it helps prevent the tears, or maybe he thinks he can overcome the instinct on willpower alone.

“Stubborn,” he mutters fondly.

“What was that?” Chanyeol calls, wrist-deep in a large bowl of dumpling filling. His eyes are round with genuine, polite curiosity, one of the many things Kyungsoo loves about him.

Rather embarrassed to be caught staring, Kyungsoo shakes his head.

“You want these steamed? Boiled? Fried? All of the above?”

“Don’t complicate things. Frying takes less time.”

“Are you really hungry? The salad’s already made...”

“I’m fine, Chanyeol. Just finish what you’re making.” They’ve both helped make dumplings before. Chanyeol likes the round-shaped dumplings, because he can fit the whole thing in his mouth at once. Kyungsoo prefers the easy half-moon shapes simply pinched shut. He actually takes the time to enjoy his food, rather than devouring it as soon as possible and choking.

Toben yips, knocked off his feet by a particularly rough tackle, and Kyungsoo whistles sharply. His dogs flinch and duck their heads, more careful afterwards and sniffing Toben all over for good measure.

Oil pops in the hot wok. Chanyeol exclaims softly as he’s hit by vicious spit but retains his post, wielding chopsticks in one hand and a mesh splatter screen in the other as a shield. Within minutes, he’s flipped the first few dumplings, and then they’re set aside. Clutching the last between his chopsticks, he gently blows away the steam and carries it to Kyungsoo’s spot, offering it over his hand. “Try.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t usually like being fed, but he’s used to it, and Chanyeol’s gotten much better about not dropping food on him or stabbing his face with utensils. He blows on the dumpling and bites it in half, heat immediately filling his mouth and shocking his gums.

“Ah…” He fans his mouth but manages to chew and swallow without getting burned. “It’s spicy.”

“Too spicy?”

Shaking his head, he holds up a thumb and fist. “It’s really good!”

The dumplings fry up fast, and Chanyeol brings them and a carefully balanced arm of salads with a flourish to the table he’d already set near the large window of his apartment. A small stuffed penguin holding 2019 in glittery gold plastic sits against a vase with a single deep red rose.

He bows at the waist, presenting his setting to his amused boyfriend. “Dinner is served, sir.” Holding out a hand, he pulls Kyungsoo to his feet and pushes in his chair as he sits. Kyungsoo catches his cheek with a kiss.

“Good job, babe.”

It doesn’t take much to flatter Chanyeol. His ears are a pleased pink as he sweeps back into the kitchen. In and out of the refrigerator and cabinets a couple more times, and he returns.

“Here. Black velvet.” He offers a tall glass of something pretty, nearly clear at the bottom but gradually darkening to an orange and then nearly black at the surface.

Kyungsoo takes the glass a little warily. He trusts Minseok to mix drinks; Chanyeol’s one who jokes that ‘a finger’ measurement can be the width or the length. “What is it?”

“Beer and champagne.” Chanyeol sits across from Kyungsoo, kicking his feet on accident before folding his long legs away.

A cautious sip wins approval. The sweetness of the champagne works well with the creaminess of the stout beer. It doesn't even taste like it has alcohol in it, which is dangerous for anyone. “Good thing Baekhyun’s not here, or he’d be under the table already.”

“Jonginnie already sent me a photo of him,” Chanyeol says, pulling his phone from his pocket. Sure enough, a selfie had been sent to their group chat, just before Chanyeol’s own selfie showing off his work just minutes earlier. Only half of Jongin’s face appears in the lower right of the frame, the rest showing Baekhyun peacefully passed out and wrapped around Jongdae and making a makeshift heated table.

Between them, they make quick work of the dumplings and salads. Chanyeol humbly but happily accepts all of Kyungsoo’s praise.

Ink, Pepper, and Toben are all passed out before the sofa, not caring about the ceremonious new year celebrations. To a dog, every day is the same significance. It’s an envious perspective, Kyungsoo thinks. He ignores protests and helps carry dishes back into the disaster-area of a kitchen, rinsing each piece and loading the dishwasher properly.

“Just leave the rest, Soo,” Chanyeol begs, bouncing like a child needing to go potty. “Come watch with me.” He has the heavy comforter pulled off his bed and wraps it around him like a great cloak, forcibly taking Kyungsoo’s shoulders and waddling them to the sliding glass door to sit on the balcony outside.

Chanyeol’s apartment faces the river, a few blocks away. When the first fireworks whistle into the sky and explode, the dogs whine but quickly lose interest. Bursts of red, gold, blue, and green color the night sky, and Kyungsoo can imagine the ecstatic partiers jumping on one another, spilling drinks and throwing crumbs and confetti everywhere.

They can have it. Kyungsoo’s not the one cleaning up. He’s quite happy to be in the company of just one person, eating good food and getting just on the wrong side of tipsy on beer and champagne while watching the light show.

Something slips down over his head and behind his ears. Kyungsoo can feel the springy bounce of the ribbon pom poms and is tempted to throw his head back so they hit Chanyeol’s face, but he lets his silly boyfriend indulge a little. It’s a holiday.

“Happy new year, my love,” Chanyeol murmurs, kissing his hair. He turns to claim a kiss on the lips, and then Kyungsoo leans into his chest, comfortable and warm and wishing for another year of happiness.

“Happy new year, Chanyeol.”

---

a/n: I really should've been working on something else, but it was late, anyway. I wasn't going to be productive, I thought. Yet I wrote this whole thing in one sitting, with Celine Dion's Ashes on repeat. Not quite the mood I was going for, but it worked. uwu