Really, it was supposed to have been simple. One meal, cooked by him to make up for the time Kyungsoo (who had been down with a pretty bad fever) had to finish the chores because he had forgotten. Honestly, it hadn’t even been his fault. He remembered clearly telling Sehun to finish it but somehow everyone seemed to have missed that detail. And he didn’t mind this payment, it was quality bonding time with the guys and really, it was just one meal.

Just that he had to cook it.

And it was slowly dawning on Joonmyeon exactly how bad an idea that was.

The kitchen was an orderly array of pots and pans laid out neatly in shining rows and columns. The ingredients had been bought and had been set out at the side just as the recipe instructed. Except Joonmyeon was having trouble figuring out how to work the electric whisk and honestly how much water was enough water when cooking rice? With a sigh and a slight pout, he surveyed the spick and span kitchen and realised there was something terribly wrong about the picture because the last time he had checked, he was due 11 hungry kids in exactly… oh 5 minutes.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been that ambitious. The only thing that was cooking was a happy pot of soup bubbling away suspiciously; too many bubbles to even see the soup below. He should have really thought this through.

Because just as the soup let out a very, very suspicious hiss and a puff of steam, the doorbell rang.

***

“Oh I’m so looking forward to this...” Jongdae was chortling away, rubbing his hands eagerly in a manner that was questionable at best. The short brown haired boy curled his lips in a grin, eyes crinkling in silent amusement. From behind him, a short exasperated sigh rang out from a much taller male who shot a withering look at the planters full of orchids and daisies arranged pleasantly at the entrance, his feet tap-tapping to will away the time.

“We’ve been standing at his goddamn door, in the middle of the night for the past 5 minutes. If he doesn’t open up soon I swear…” Yifan’s rant was cut short as the door swung open with sudden gusto, leaving the 11 boys outside blinking into blinding white light as a figure held the door open, still garbed in an apron and twisting a ladle in his palm.

“Uh… hello?”

“Hi, now could you open the door? We’re starving. And oh my gods what are you wearing?” Joonmyeon’s eyes flicked over to the owner of the voice, took a while to register that it was Tao, his junior, before the request was processed.

“Oh… yeah uh an apron? And course, sure.” He tripped over the words ever so slightly, hesitating a good few seconds before pulling the gate open wider. As expected, the boys poured through, leaving Joonmyeon plastered against the door, clutching the ladle to his chest for dear life. And as Jongdae passed him, he smiled ever so serenely while eyeing the apron.

“A pink floral printed apron? Hyung, that suites you beautifully.” Joonmyeon pouted but said nothing. I mean, his mom had made it for him. What was wrong with pink floral printed aprons anyways?

As the last one through the door, Yixing only smiled before offering a compliment, “Your house is very pretty. The daisies look like the ones in my grandma’s house. Oh and thank you for having us!” Nodding mutely, Joonmyeon closed the door behind the trailing Chinese scholar.

In the warmth of the living room, the boys made quick order of removing their bags at the side, only that they didn’t seem to recognize order in the room and soon Joonmyeon’s living room was inundated with coats and bags strung across his sofa even as he whimpered out some instructions between breaths. But never mind that, he needed to inform everyone of his shortcoming. It was regrettable but they weren’t getting dinner otherwise. He cleared his throat, realising that no one was paying attention, cleared his throat once more for emphasis but before he could repeat it a third time, Jongdae, who was stretching and uncoiling himself like a cat, leisurely commented,

“I’m sure hyung prepared a five course meal complete with dessert right?” Oh gods no, had he found out? Joonmyeon slowly found his hastily prepared speech explaining the matter slipping from his head (what was the starting again?), leaving him grasping at words.

“Well, you see…”

Before he could continue though, a fervent voice rose from the side. “Of course, I’m pretty sure hyung cooks very well. Right hyung?” No nonononono, this hyung can’t cook well, really Chanyeol of all times now you support me? But what came out, was another stunted attempt at his quickly failing speech.

“I appreciate the faith but…” And his speech got cut off. Again.

“I can smell it already, mhmhm… food here we come.” At this Baekhyun, took on the role of self-assigned chaperone and led the group down the hallway, already well acquainted with the flat after multiple study sessions which usually involved him popping up with a few of the others unannounced and at random. He really had the best of friends.

After several stunted (and failed) attempts at trying to explain the problem to the others, Joonmyeon resigned himself to going with whatever happened. That single pot of soup couldn’t last forever. So he said nothing as the others settled down at the places arranged for them, a few hustles and scattered chatter resounding as they sat before looking up at him expectantly.

“So…uh I just wanted to thank you…” Joonmyeon’s carefully written speech was abruptly interrupted once more by Baekhyun. And he had actually stayed up to write it the night before.

“Hyung, honestly just get on with the food already. We’re hungry.” And he dragged out the ‘hungry’ into a whine which sent Joonmyeon’s frown even deeper into his forehead because, oh crap now he was really screwed but he nodded and went back into the kitchen to bring out the miserable pot of soup that had thankfully stopped bubbling and was now a not-so suspicious clear liquid (well it had been yellow, so this was a marked improvement) With the gentleness of handling fine china, he placed it at the centre before announcing,

“Soup first so drink up, including the vegetables. You need them.”

And it was amidst all the grumbles and slight laughter that he seated himself next to Baekhyun after removing the tacky apron and hanging it at the rack. He spooned the soup into each of the bowls placed around carefully, insisting that they only start after everyone was ready. Returning the soup ladle, he looked around nervously.

“Dig in everyone!”

In a chorus of ‘kamsa!’s and ‘finally!’, everyone raised a spoon of clear soup to their mouths. All except Jongdae of course. It was hard to hide your natural tendency to create rat poison out of stew (accidentally, he swore) from a childhood friend. Ignoring the knowing grin stretching across the younger’s face, Joonmyeon turned to find that a series of coughs and hacks had risen into a crescendo in the room. What was wrong now?

“Did you use seawater in this or something?” This was coming from Yifan, his eyes screwed shut in what was probably an attempt to forget the taste of the thing sliding down his throat. In Joonmyeon’s defence, a small voice came from the side, Minseok.

“At least it’s hot?”

“Oh go-fh no, I f-ink I bur-dhed m-a f-ongue. Sehun, i-th.” From the side of the table, Jongin was rapidly downing several cups of iced water from the table in a hurry, accidentally spilling the water over himself in the process. And off ran Sehun to retrieve the ice cubes. Oh no, oh no, he couldn’t delay this longer. Sighing Joonmyeon, decided to break it to the rest of them.

“Yeah… uh this is sort of what I wanted to tell you earlier guys. You see… I can’t cook.”

“You can’t cook?” A heartbroken whisper from Chanyeol.

“Hyung it’s soup, how the heck did you screw up clear soup?” A disapproving look from Kyungsoo who shook his head in disbelief.

“Hyung, if it was really you who made the soup, this is what I have for you.” And a few rather painful hits across the shoulder as Baekhyun held him by the crook of his elbow. (Sitting with Baekhyun probably hadn’t been a good idea.)

That’s it, the guilt did it. And out came the rest of the story.

“And that’s sort of it for tonight.” Gods please have mercy on me.

“What do you mean that’s it?” Sehun sauntered in with an ice tray in hand, placing it before Jongin who hastily popped in a few, a contented smile gracing his features.

“Uh… I only had time to make soup.” More blank stares and blinks. He was in for it, badly.

“Well we aren’t leaving until we get dinner. That’s homemade. And don’t think about it, Luhan and Minseok have your wallet already.” Jongdae maintained the serene smile, even as Luhan pulled out a black rectangular something from his side. Wait, when… but first what was that idiot Jongdae thinking? Before he made even the slightest attempt at lunging for the wallet, a loud screech resounded as a particular glowering figure got up from the table, pinning him with a glare that he found himself shirking away from.

“I’ll prepare dinner. But I swear the next time, you are getting a banquet meal fit for 28 people just for us to make up for this.” And the brooding figure of Kyungsoo disappeared into the inner lair of the kitchen without a single backward glance. For once, in a gesture that almost seemed like sympathy, Baekhyun pat him on the shoulder as he eyed a glass case full of hyperactive grasshoppers set aside for an ecology project,

“Man, don’t blame us for the grasshoppers you find glued to your hair tomorrow.”

Offering to cook had been a very, very bad idea.

***

“Baekhyun, you’re in charge of the onions and vegetable chopping. Tao-yah and Chanyeol-ah you’re in charge of the meat. Yixing-hyung, handle the rice for me please? Minseok-hyung could you go run errands to the convenience store around the corner in case we need anything? Bring someone if you need to.” The almond eyes of the senior had widened in glee at the prospect, a wide grin alight on his face as he looked at the confused look of the boy beside him. It didn’t seem like Luhan-hyung had caught up with what was happening, the Chinese scholar blinking repeatedly. It was only with the squeal of ‘Lu-ge!’ and a hardly gentle tug from Minseok-hyung in the direction of the living room that he moved, nodding dazed at Kyungsoo before disappearing.

“Then, I’ll take the dessert and the rest with nothing to do can help around. Now, it’s 7p.m., we have a dinner to cook and if we have 12 mouths to fill, we need to move, move, move!” Joonmyeon’s eyes widened, scampering out of the way of the tornado that was Do Kyungsoo flying around the kitchen with the fury of a general as he barked out the orders to his helpers who were suddenly equally terrified of screwing up in Kyungsoo’s territory. That boy did have some presence… And so Joonmyeon, the ever so gracious guest stepped aside of his own kitchen watching how the mess was going to unfold and noticing rather worriedly that the imp Jongdae was completely unaccounted for and that Sehun was fiddling with the knobs of the rice cooker with a terrifyingly mutilating expression.

He swore it would be a miracle if the kitchen came back to him in one piece.

***

If it were up to him, he would have loved to have been left the kitchen all to himself. He could have come up with dinner in thirty minutes flat, although it admittedly would have been simple, and everyone would have been happy. But that meant 11 guys with highly questionable mental maturities would be free to roam in the living room, turning it upside down and seeing that he was to share the flat with Joonmyeon, he honestly didn’t want to risk it being blown up.

What he had unfortunately failed to consider was that now, it meant dealing with 11 mentally immature kids in one tiny, 6 by 7 metre space with combustible gas and flames.

No, this probably wasn’t one of his best plans.

“Kyungsoo-hyung what am I supposed to do?” The pink haired junior that was Sehun (he honestly had no idea how that worked) queried impatiently, twisting the knobs of the rice cooker in a way that had Kyungsoo’s eyes widening in alarm. That kid was a threat to the kitchen.

“Sehun-ah, just sit at the side and look pretty?” With a pronounced hmph the younger left the room to pout in the hallway while a sudden sight had his heart plummeting to the tiled floor. A certain droopy, lidded senior was sprinkling some white powdery stuff across the rice, his drowsy smile spiking the fear that the senior really was high on something but given that this was his default expression, Kyungsoo was forced to believe otherwise.

“Yixing-hyung what are you doing?” The senior turned, eyes clearing before he stared at his white dusted hands questioningly.

“It felt like what my grandma makes bread with. It’s like fairy dust right?” The senior gave a dimpled smile before blowing the flour right into Kyungsoo’s face for emphasis, leaving him coughing for dear life.

“No… it’s flour *hack* dammit. *hack* finish the rice!” The senior only gave him a befuddled look.

“What’s flour?”

Really? Kyungsoo had trouble believing what he was hearing.

From beside him, a voice piped up. Ah, the resident dictionary Byun Baekhyun. “Ignore him. It is fairy dust. It’s good.”

“What? No! You…” But Kyungsoo’s protest was cut off by the happy reply of the senior who smiled at him so innocently, it seemed the elder had turned into a 5-year old.

“Then I’ll give everyone some good luck dose of fairy dust too! Don’t worry Kyungsoo, I’ll finish the rice too! Hey maybe the fairy dust will help!” And off skipped the senior before Kyungsoo could so much as whimper a protest on why adding flour to rice might not be the brightest idea and bloody Byun Baekhyun had slipped through his fingers as well. Bloody hell…

Dinner wasn’t going to be served till a long time from now…

***

Now, how was he supposed to cook the meat again…? Right, to cut it up first, dip it in the bread crumbs on the plate and then fry it. Easy.

Unlike what most people thought of him, Chanyeol was actually decent at cooking, as long as the recipe wasn’t too demanding. Fried chicken was a piece of cake, simple. Tongue poking from the side of his lips in concentration, he grabbed the chopping board and got to work, cutting through the already pre-marinated pieces into bite-size ones. Chop, chop, chop…

Soon, his cuts easily fell into rhythm, a tune working its way through his teeth as he whistled. Chop, chop, chop, slide, drop. Chop, chop, chop, slide, drop. Damn that tune running in his head was good. Now all he needed was a good pair of drumsticks…

As his eyes wandered, they landed on two fat pieces of meat sticking up from the bowl, still intact with two bones. Ah, the two drumsticks of course. And given what his previous line of thought had been, he would have been a dumb nut not to notice the similarity, I mean they were both drumsticks right? And that got him thinking on how these drumsticks would actually sound like. Heck, they didn’t look similar so they probably didn’t sound similar. And there was a question there, what do drumsticks sound like?

Well he could find out now.

So Park Chanyeol, to find the mystery of the puzzling music of chicken drumsticks, grabbed the two meaty ends before he could give it much thought and began tapping away at the chopping board. It wouldn’t be for long anyways and the sound was a bit soft and hollow. It did have a nice ring though, yeah, yeah it did. Who would have known man? But then as he accidentally (honest) raised his arm a bit too high to bring the bone down, he realised something.

Marinated chicken meat was slippery.

Out slipped the runaway chicken drumstick, flying majestically across the short kitchen, heading straight for the head of an innocent victim who suddenly had the urge to turn around. Brown eyes widened in surprise as the boy stared at the projectile drumstick, rooted to the spot because really, flying drumsticks happened to be particularly hard to dodge and thwack! It hit him smack at the centre of his spotless forehead before dropping unceremoniously to the ground. Chanyeol winced in sympathy even as Joonmyeon blinked, refusing to process what had just hit him, his hands drifting over to touch his forehead gingerly. Ah, Chanyeol was in trouble now.

“Hyung I’m so sorry, let me get that for you, see it was just a slip of the hand nothing more.” Grabbing a wad of kitchen roll in his bluster, he rushed forward to hastily wipe away the mix of ginger, garlic and whatever else you found in marinate stuck all over Joonmyeon’s (previously) pristine, white forehead. He might accidentally have applied more pressure than necessary because Joonmyeon winced.

“Chanyeol…” The threatening whisper coming from behind, sounding painfully similar to Kyungsoo, he chose to ignore. Instead, he tightened his grip on the kitchen towel pressed uselessly against Joonmyeon’s head and directed him firmly out of the kitchen.

“Immediate first aid needed. A chicken drumstick to the head can be an extremely serious medical issue. Please excuse us and I hope the chicken turns out well!”

And Chanyeol ran out because that was probably the smartest thing to do.

***

Between keeping an eye on Yixing (the kid was still occasionally throwing flour around like confetti) and Park Chanyeol’s drumstick antics, Kyungsoo hadn’t had much time to properly look over dessert. He had been going for something filling yet befitting his hyperactive diners for it, an invention of his own for that matter. What with the marshmallows, whipped cream, chocolate and bananas he had managed to dig out from his future roomie’s cupboard, there should be enough sugar for everyone to share around even if you did include the appetites of the two eldest hyungs for sugar. Honestly, he often wondered how Luhan-hyung even managed to keep in all that sugar and stay sane. Wait, no that was a questionable statement.

He looked back at the table, ready to assemble his dessert from the loot of several searches through the house, digging through multiple cupboards of vitamin bottles and granola bars. He had begun to doubt Joonmyeon-hyung even owned anything close to junk food but his efforts had paid off. Now he could make it.

His own personal creation. The Kyungsoo Chocolate Banana with marshmallows and whipped cream.

He never did say he was creative with names.

A sudden commotion sounded to his right, and he spied Yixing-hyung accidentally letting loose a handful of flour over an open flame. His heart leaping into his throat and his pupils expanding even wider, he rushed over to make sure that some gas leak hadn’t started as a result.

But when he returned, he realised something strange. The can of whipping cream was completely missing and there wasn’t a single spot of sugar left in the bowl where the marshmallows had originally been in. He could have sworn he had emptied an entire bowl full just a while ago… Strange. He topped up the bowl with more marshmallows, reconsidering whether it had all been in his head after all.

But before he could mull over the situation any further, he noticed a horrendous sight that had his pulse hammering against his vessels like a sledgehammer in fear. No, no, no, no don’t. Don’t!

“No! Tao-yah, don’t!”

***

“Tao-yah, I just want you to dice the meat on the blender. There should be a setting for it and it isn’t difficult to operate. Just look for this sign ok?” Kyungsoo had traced the character onto his palm, waiting for his nod to make sure he understood before handing him the bag of meat. Honestly, they were nice but the way they treated him made him feel like a kid and he wasn’t even the maknae there. Ok, so maybe it was his first time stepping into a kitchen and maybe he had trouble identifying the blender. No big deal, all first-time kitcheners had to face the dilemma of utensils. He would brave it.

As he turned to ask for help, he found Jongdae standing idly by an empty spot at the kitchen top, twiddling with his thumbs. Zitao brightened, Jongdae would know!

“Uh Jongdae do you know where the blender is?” Hefting the bag of bloodied meat as far away from his clothes as possible in revulsion, Zitao passed the question off-handed to the junior. But Zitao soon noticed something wrong, a tingle and shiver running across his skin as the previously languid features of Jongdae tightened into a strained grimace as though holding back an extremely painful truth. Was his make-up smudged?

“No… Tao hyung, you don’t ask about that satanic invention so casually. Even its name is frightening…”

“Satanic.” To this, Jongdae nodded fervently, head bobbing up and down.

“From the depths of hell. Legend has it that the razors were used to grind up the meat of the dead itself. This particular one might even be possessed by one of the spirits it chopped up.”

“You’re just saying this to scare me, aren’t you? Well, I’m not scared.” Zitao lifted his chin higher; trying to gain back the confidence he had a while before. What if the blender really was possessed?

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. But remember, this is the safe button and here, I have another bag of meat for you to grind since you’re feeling so brave. Hungry souls to feed tonight.” And Jongdae hefted a second bag from behind him and handed it to a bewildered Zitao who could no longer differentiate between the two symbols that had been passed to him. Almost reluctantly, he queried,

“Uhm… I might get something wrong so could you help?”

“Anything for my hyung!” And such a wide smile spread across Jongdae’s features that Zitao honestly should have reconsidered his choice of help.

And so the two braved the five steps separating them from the machine of doom with its whirring blades with the ability to cut through bone and soul (or at least according to Jongdae) before they emptied the contents of Jongdae’s bag of meat first. The bloody red contents slid down into the jar, Zitao’s nose wrinkling in disgust and maybe he had been shaking in just a bit of fear. Before he could finish though, Jongdae had stepped back, still smiling,

“Well, I have to go check on Minseok hyung for some stuff. You don’t actually need the cap so that the poor animal’s soul can depart in peace. Good luck!” With that, he ran out of the kitchen with the speed of someone about to get caught because he probably was.

Since the bag that he had handed over was a bag of chicken liver Joonmyeon had bought in hopes of trying a secret recipe that obviously never came into being. And Zitao was about to press the button to blend, without the lid on the jar.

The last thing Zitao heard was a ‘Tao-yah, no!” from Kyungsoo before he was bombarded by sloppy liver meat raining down on him. A whimper might have escaped from his lips as his hands rose up to shield his precious face. His arms remained resolutely still till there was a tap on his shoulder and Zitao afforded a crack of his eyes to look at the Satanic contraption.

“That… that… torture device from Hell tried to kill me…” He turned to see a rather bloody Kyungsoo with bits of meat in his hair and eyes so wide the white ringed his pupils like a doughnut.

“What… Tao-yah, don’t you know you blend with the lid on the jar on it not off? Never mind… go clean up now in the toilet.” After which Kyungsoo began to nibble nervously on his lips. Zitao took this as his cue, bowed to Kyungsoo before running out of the kitchen. He didn’t even stop when he knocked into Chanyeol in the living room hiding behind the shoe rack for some reason. All he knew was to get away from the blood thing, with its scary sharp teeth.

Oh and oh gods, he needed to remove all that disgusting blood off him. It made him look even uglier.

***

Baekyun had seated himself at the dining table, surrounded by untouched and cold bowls of soup as he cut his way through the stupid mushrooms and carrots and other green things that he didn’t like. Vegetables were so gross and what was he doing getting his nails chipped as he cut them? It was for dinner, it was all for dinner.

In two neat piles, he had set aside the completed mushrooms and carrots. Time for the onions. From behind him, various yelps and shouts were sounding suspiciously before Chanyeol rushed out, Joomyeon in tow before abandoning the senior and ducking behind the shoe rack. Baekyun held back the snigger at the back of his throat as he watched Chanyeol peek out, eyes wide in wait, every few seconds. If Chanyeol was trying to hide, he should probably know that his legs were still visible at the bottom and honestly, poking your huge as heck head out every few seconds hardly helped.

Anyways, back to the chopping board. The faster this got done, the less he would have to suffer.

So he began peeling the onion, chopping of the head and slowly dicing what was left when he felt something wet running down his cheek. Self-consciously he rubbed at his eyes and off with his fingers came a nasty smudge of black. Oh crap was his eyeliner still on?

And that was when Byun Baekhyun began to realise cutting onions was a very bad idea for someone who loves their eyeliner. He could feel each individual tear of black streak down his cheek to wobble at his chin before dripping down and he couldn’t even stop it.

Oh no, his hatred for vegetables was starting to become very personal. Especially onions.

With a huff, he finished the last of his onions and ran off to the toilet. Crying out for joy, Baekyun slipped into the empty room and as he surveyed his eyeliner streaked face, he cringed inwardly. Oh gods, that black was…everywhere. All of a sudden, a tap came from outside, the toilet door swinging open (Smart Mr. Byun had forgotten to lock it) Baekhyun now stared into the most terrifying image in his life, scarring his mind for ages.

Because what stared back at him was a blood splattered Zitao, with bits of meat dripping down from his head. And poor Zitao was looking at the bloodshot face of Baekhyun smeared with black tear tracks all over. Needless to say they both screamed, so high pitched and shrill you doubted their voices had broken.

“Gh… Ghost!”

“Zombie!”

And like the concerned kitchen general he was, in rushed Kyungsoo.

***

Sehun breathed in deeply, pushing his hands out before bringing them in together in an attempt to achieve a state of mental balance. He was going to need it, that calm. Mental dexterity and patience was needed in this, what the hyungs had all advised. It was essential for the task given.

He had to fry eggs for all of them. More importantly, he had to cross the sky high barrier of cracking them first.

From behind he heard Jongdae hyung’s encouraging shouts, “Move your lazy asses you incompetent things! My grandma can cook better than you!” So Oh Sehun brought the egg before him and with the spoon he gripped tightly in the other, he landed a controlled tap on the egg, hearing the satisfying crack of the egg breaking.

Ok maybe the sound effect was in his head.

Gently, he pried open the shell of the egg. Eggs were delicate things, they had to be handled with care. After forty seconds (Sehun was counting), the egg finally slipped out, landing with a plop onto the saucepan. There was a glorious, satisfying sizzle which Sehun took in with closed eyes and one long sniff. He opened his eyes to see the egg and a shout left his mouth.

“Yes! I cracked my first egg! Guys can you believe I cracked my first egg!” Some distance from him, Yixing said an encouraging ‘congratulations! The egg’s going black though.” and he casually returned to the cooker. Internally, Sehun continued celebrating, Congratulations yeah! Wait… the egg’s what?

True enough, the corners of the egg were turning black but the yolk looked strangely firm. Oh no, oh no what should he do? And as his arms flailed, the egg shell in his hand accidentally got slightly crushed and dropped from his fingers.

Oh no. They were going to have eggshell omelettes. They couldn’t taste all that bad could they?

***

The kitchen by then had dissolved into chaos. There was flour all over the floor, courtesy of Yixing, there were bits of meat still stuck to the floor after scrubbing and Zitao and Baekhyun had yet to recover from their stupor. Zitao was still rocking back and forth whispering “Satanic teeth… Spirits… Tears flesh…” while Baekhyun was talking animatedly to himself under the questioning eyes of Joonmyeon. “I really shouldn’t have been scared. It’s not like Tao-yah was actually half-dead. It wasn’t scary at all. Tell me hyung, why was I acting scared?”

Yeah, things weren’t looking too good.

“Lu-ge you think they’ll ever get dinner done?” Minseok, the ever thoughtful senior eyed his unsurprisingly immature juniors sceptically. His stomach had already begun their daily protests, they couldn’t wait any longer. So he cut through Luhan’s answer partway (Something along the lines of, maybe, salvation was still possible) and dragged him off to the door, exclaiming that they’d be out to get things.

The last Minseok realised was them shutting the door to more exasperated screams and shouts. Well good luck to them, they were going to need it.

***

Yifan had been waiting too long for his meal. Wang-ha wasn’t served meals like this, not this late and not with this much salt. He, Wang-ha, would be served on time like his royal stomach demanded. So he tried to make himself useful. He knew how to cook. I mean it couldn’t be that hard for him to pick up. Heck he was probably better than those idiots who had already managed to burn the rice and several other utensils as well (really, they looked like they were coated in tar)

But obviously cooking had a few things on him.

For one, the lighter wouldn’t switch on. No matter how many times he turned the knob, the fire wouldn’t start but somehow when Sehun did it, the fire lit like a charm. (No one noticed that he was turning it in the wrong direction) Next, when he tried washing the vegetables, the drain clogged on him. How was he supposed to know that you had to turn a knob to open the drain? He moved onto attempting to fry Chanyeol’s abandoned chicken over the skillet. He was great at it, it’s just that the fire was so inconsistent, it burnt the chicken and the sides of the pot dangerously till he dropped the skillet onto the floor, splattering the poor pieces of chicken suicide bombing to the floor in a mini explosion of pops and fizzes while remnants of oil he was pretty sure was in the recipe pooled on the ground.

Did he mention how, when despite it being completely unrelated to him he had to clean up the oil and he had slipped on it and landed on his ?

“Cooking’s just not my style. What are you looking at? Get back to your work.” He had attempted a snarl but honestly he doubted it had worked when he was desperately scrambling from the floor in the midst of a spreading pool of yellow liquid and kamikaze chicken pieces.

Kyungsoo only shook his head and sent him out to wait it out in the living room.

All because of a few mishaps. He needed time, that’s all, until cooking consented to his will. Cooking will obey the Wang-ha eventually, everything did.

Now stretched out on the couch, he leant back, hearing a hideous rumble and vibration coming from somewhere. He stopped Baekhyun midstride (that hyperactive kid hadn’t stopped pacing since he screamed in the toilet) and questioned him,

“What’s that hideous sound coming from? And when will dinner be ready?”

“Hyung that hideous elephant stampede was your stomach and dinner will be ready… never. Forget ever getting food. Did you see them?”

Kris glared at him disinterested before forcing himself off the couch in the vain conquest of food. Food would not escape him, not today. The refrigerator. Refrigerators were bound to have something. He spied the metallic box at the side of the kitchen entrance and dragged himself towards it.

One step by one step Kris. That’s right almost there.

Triumphantly, he was about to swing open the door when Chanyeol (who had given up on hiding) walked up and beat him to it, leaving him staring at the blank metal door.

“Eh, Chanyeol, is there anything good to eat in there?”

“Ice cubes, ice cubes, this place is full of ice cubes I think I could build an igloo. Oh and one packet of microwaveable chicken. I’m taking it. Joonmyeon hyung, I’m getting the chicken!” Without waiting for a reply, he walked over to the microwave oven, grabbed a bowl and dumped in the chicken before placing it in the oven.

“Hyung, can you take it out after 3 minutes? That should be enough to heat it if I’m not wrong.”

“Why must the Wang-Ha listen to you? Besides microwaveable chicken is tasteless, definitely not my style.” Brushing aside his bangs, he had walked away from the counter nonchalantly despite his knees shaking in hunger and on the brink of giving way. He tripped over something (a stray carrot, damn Baekhyun), righted himself and head to the dining table all under the watchful, alarmed gaze of Chanyeol.

He was completely alright, not a walking bomb. Couldn’t people see that?

But at the end of three minutes, he found himself being reeled in by a glorious scent of juicy meat, crisp to perfection. He could hear the crinkle of the heated outer in the air. Transfixed, he opened the door to have those sticks in his reach.

“Come, come to papa. We were… we were meant to be.” He could have cried. Oh the glory of food. His fingers reached forward to grab one stick, sinking his teeth into the full flavour of the tender meat.

And spit it right out, gasping for air like a fish as his tongue stuck out.

“Hot hot hot. Why is it so hot?”More desperate panting.

“You took it out of the oven five seconds ago! Of course it would be hot!” Right, it seemed Tao had regained sufficient mental capacity . Of course.

“Well this chicken is mine. We’re soul mates” And he stalked off with his bowl of chicken, proud to show his partner off to all the others but no of course they couldn’t share her, she was only his.

Who knew microwaveable chicken was this glorious?

***

No. Dinner was impossible. The rice was out, it was currently glued to the pot for all they knew, the chicken was swimming in oil, the egg looked more like someone mixed jigsaw puzzles and puke together and the vegetables were still raw (at least they were consumable minus a few drops of eyeliner). Oh and don’t forget the dozen near death experiences.

He still smelled of chicken liver juice.

Whatever it was, he would finish his dessert. It was something he had planned and he would complete it even if it was the only thing they ate (probably the case) If only he could find the marshmallows.

By then, he could have sworn that he had refilled the bowl three to five times and each time the contents disappeared the moment he turned. Of course it was one of the guys… but which one? It wasn’t Jongdae, he wasn’t a sweet tooth. That left only one person unaccounted for who had surprisingly not caused any trouble. Yet.

“Jongin come out of the storeroom, I can see you with the marshmallows.”

A rather guilty looking Jongin crawled out from behind the dirty laundry, still chewing on a few marshmallows. “Damn, I thought I’d gotten away. How did you find me?”

“You were hiding behind a T-shirt. Which looked like it was floating above the laundry basket.”

“Ah of course…”

“Want to help me with dessert?” He supposed he could get the help of someone. To hell with the kitchen, he had long since given up on it. Like the excited little kid he was, Jongin eagerly nodded and they got to work.

Kyungsoo supposed he should have sensed something amiss when he felt something cold and wet against his back but he left it and peeled the banana. Dessert always came first.

***

Oh this was good, very good. Everyone seemed preoccupied with doing nothing, grumbling about their hunger or both. He gave the whipped cream a good shake before squirting a sufficient amount of it on Yixing’s back while the senior stared at the ceiling aimlessly.

There, that was it. The letter looked perfect.

With one last shake he returned the whipped cream to its counter and slipped back into the living room just as the doors opened. It was amusing that no one had noticed anything yet.

***

Laughing Minseok, walked up to Joonmyeon’s front door. Their little escapade down into the nearby shops had quickly deteriorated into a food sampling session before they had realised the time and rushed back. Not before they had met a pleasant old lady selling potatoes who had been convinced Luhan was a girl.

“Lu-ge, what did that ahjumma say again? Pretty girls like you shouldn’t wonder around at night alone. Oh gods that was so funny!” And he doubled over laughing again.

“What’s so funny about that? She just didn’t realise how manly I was without her specs and besides it was dark.” With a pout, Luhan dragged open the front door and led himself in to see that everyone had gathered at the living room at hearing the door open.

“We got you guys soy bean milk and doughsticks! Is dinner… wait what’s that?” Minseok stalled behind him, the bags of food he had swung before everyone coming to a stop. Everyone seemed normal, except… there was white, creamy stuff on everyone’s shoulders. Was that whipped cream?

“Hey guys turn around.” Confused the juniors all did as they were told, slowly noticing the weird stuff on everyone’s shirts.

“S-U-C-K-E-R-Z-Z-Exclamation mark.”Luhan was in a fit of laughter by the time Minseok reached the end.

There really was only one person who could have done it. Minseok noticed Kyungsoo’s eyes going wide before all 9 of them shouted after the culprit.

“Jongdae!”

If Jongdae was smart, he would have already locked himself up in the toilet by now.