idk if ur still writing also idk anything abt ateez but uuuuh 82? with yeosang or san??
82: “I’ve watched every episode of Hell’s Kitchen, of course I know how to cook.”i won’t be doing anymore other than what’s in my asks already, sorry!
yeosang was very particular about everything he did. from the way his books were organized on the shelf, to the precision of his rug at his front door. you used to think he had some sort of ocd, but after realizing that he was just a very neat person, you cast that from your mind. besides, he didn’t really care about your own sort of disorganization.
the day he invited you over to his house was new, though. he usually insisted going out, or going to your place, but today he insisted that you came over to his place. he said he had a surprise for you. so when you knocked on the door and were greeted by the sight of his face powdery with flour, you couldn’t help but break into a smile.
“you’re baking again?” you asked as you stepped into the kitchen, looking along the counters and utensils. from the looks of it, and the smell in the air, yeosang was making bread. when you turned to ask him about it, though, he was reaching up to brush is hair from his forehead, creating a white strip of flour in the spot. “bread, huh?”
“bread… and dinner. i was just about to start on dinner when you showed up.” yeosang nodded once. he pursed his lips as he stepped past you to wash his hands in the sink, drying them as he turned to talk to you. “you don’t have to help or anything. i bought wine, too. dinner and wine, and while i make dinner you can keep me company and talk.”
yeosang seemed at least a little self-satisfied by the look of minor shock on your face. you were used to him baking, it was one of his trademark things. but the thought of him cooking dinner was new. however, you knew it wasn’t a joke, because he pulled out a package of steak to set on the counter while he heated up a skillet.
after he poured you a glass of wine, you sat on a stool at the counter, watching him and trying to figure out how to bring it up. “yeosang… you can cook?”
when he placed the meat on the skillet, he looked up at you unamused while it sizzled in the oil. “yes, i can cook.”
“well, i know you can bake. i just mean, you know– cooking dinner–”
“i know how to cook. i’ve watched every episode of hell’s kitchen, of course i know how to cook.” yeosang snapped at you, but you knew he was being playful. you knew it wasn’t real qualifications for being able to cook, but he was so determined to do this one thing that you weren’t going to complain.
besides, you were getting free drinks and dinner.
