The Crew Heads with Reader: Dinner
G/N. (Jake Kim, Eli Jang, Johan Seong, Samuel Seo).
The manchildren are ignoring each other.
It's for the better, really, considering their temperaments.
Johan (slouched, head propped up by his palm) and Samuel (straight backed, perfect posture) sit opposite. A worn, beaten dining table separating them. Both deliberately keeping their gaze on their phones, scrolling half-hearted through social media and trivial articles, faces lit up by bluelight.
Anything to try and block out one another.
Occasional sounds ringing out from their devices, joining the backdrop of sizzling and clanging floating out from the kitchen down the hallway.
Dinner shouldn't be too far away, judging by the smells. Even if Jake and Eli are helping, at least with you taking the lead, they won't be able to get away with anything untoward such as adding a hearty dose of cyanide.
If you don't do that first, that is.
Facilitated by your presence, an uneasy, delicate truce hangs in the balance between the Crew Heads. Could be broken by the most miniscule interruption.
Someone breathing too loud.
Someone taking up too much room.
Johan and Samuel lift up their heads in unison at your voice.
Followed by a screech (also yours).
Something heavy clatters in the kitchen.
The sound of an indignant shout (Eli's), yelping (Jake's), after a resounding smack (likely courtesy of you).
One, or both, of them must have pissed you off.
They both return back to their phones, trying to keep the strained peace but-
Eyes lock, long enough to antagonise. Samuel's, full of patronising superiority and Johan's, narrowed with distrust and disdain. True feelings laid bare.
The seconds tick by. Grows into minutes.
Samuel, always having a complex to soothe, pokes him first. With a smirk, "So you took my advice. Stealing shoes worked out well."
Lips pressed tight and ears burning, Johan glares at him. Taunting tone matching his, "So did being Eugene's dog."
Samuel's expression takes on a dangerous edge, "How's your eyesight-"
Johan clenches his fist, white-knuckled and tense. Prepares to lunge to punch that smug look off his face-
You slam down a large pan of kimchi stew in the middle of the table. Breaking the tension and whatever trouble is stirring.
No doubt Samuel is the instigator, and you throw him a dirty look as he holds your gaze for a just moment, before rolling his eyes and looking away, tips of his ears burning red.
Johan huffs, small and pleased and victorious. Hand reaching out for a serving-
"Not yet," you chide, slapping his hand away with chopsticks and you are greeted by a look reminiscent of an annoyed cat.
Jake and Eli join soon after, carrying the rice and banchan. Jake gives Eli a grin, looking pleased with himself as the latter pointedly ignores him.
"Seriously, you can join Big Deal. Maybe as No.7. Lua would kill me and I can't bump Lineman."
"I said no." Eli sits down, as far away as possible from the Big Deal boss.
"I heard Jerry and Warren are getting friendly." Jake picks up the pickled radishes. "They would probably like fighting alongside each other.”
Eli pinches the bridge of his nose. Somehow this guy is even more persistent than his own toddler. “For crying out loud-”
"No. How many times! " Your hands dart out to grab Jake's around the wrist. Intercepting him about to add the pickle juice into the stew. Poised to ruin it for the rest of you. Speaking slowly and clearly, you stress, "No. Pickle. Juice."
"It tastes better, trust me." He tries for a winning smile and is met with groans all around the table.
"Keep it in your own bowl."
Jake, defeated, clicks his tongue. "Fine. You all have no taste."
"Us?" Eli scrunches his face. Jake opens his mouth, but is cut off before anything comes out, “And no! Stop asking Hostel to join with Big Deal. We are not a family.”
Taking this as an opportunity to get even with Samuel, Johan growls, low and menacing, "What the fuck did you say before?"
Samuel sneers, finding no threat in this boy, "I said-"
So long, keeping the peace.
You let the noise and angry voices wash over you, serving yourself a portion. At least it won’t get physical with you around (and you’re proven right when they keep casting shifty looks over, as if waiting for you to tell them off).
Better to let them get it out of their system like this, you think, tucking into your food.
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