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Up in Smoke (The Sweet Version)

Genre: EXO

Characters: Kai x Female Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: Your boyfriend tries to cook you an anniversary dinner–which goes very wrong…or very right?

A/N: Happy Secret Santa reveal to my giftee @merinaart as part of the @exols-silver-christmas! I hope that you like my gift! I was very inspired by your love for Kai (and your adorable guinea pig!). I’ve enjoyed getting to chat with you over the last couple months! I decided at the last minute to make a “sweet” version of the story and and then separate “spicy” version later on because there were too many ways this story could have gone! So here’s the “sweet” version for you from 🍭-anon!

~*~

“Babe, why do I smell smoke?”

The acrid smell of burning told you what your eyes couldn’t: your boyfriend was in the kitchen again. When he’d insisted on the blindfold, you’d felt butterflies in your stomach, giddy at the thought of what might be coming. Dinner in Itaewon? Wine tasting? A romantic walk by the Han River? The possibilities were endless and after two years together, your thoughtful boyfriend never failed to sweep you off your feet. For your first anniversary together, he’d hired a private chef to cook you a delicious five-course dinner, then you’d dreamily walked through the snow together hand-in-hand, sharing sips of hot chocolate.

It had been the perfect day.

This time around, Jongin had been incredibly secretive about what he was planning. But you knew something was up when you’d caught him sneaking around the apartment after he thought you’d gone to bed, or coming home with mysterious bags that he ferreted away somewhere. You were more than curious to know what the night might bring.

Despite your lack of vision, the clang of pots and pans and rhythmic slice of a kitchen knife told you Jongin had something different in mind this year. And you weren’t sure how to feel. Honestly, the man was a menace when it came to the culinary arts. You snorted, recalling the incident two months prior when he’d scorched the bottom of your wok so bad you’d had to throw it out. Fortunately, the recent installation of a fire extinguisher at least meant he couldn’t realistically burn the apartment down.

When your inquiry went unanswered, you tried again.

“At what point will I need to stop, drop, and roll?”, you said, giggling as the sound of chopping ceased.

Jongin’s footsteps drew closer, until you felt his knees bump against yours. “Ha, ha, very funny, jagi, he chastised playfully. “Kyungsoo taught me how to make this one, so it won’t be like last time, I promise. And I only burned the first one,” he added hastily.

He leaned in and gave you a quick peck on the lips before skirting away, skillfully avoiding your coy attempts to entice him back down for more. Sliding his hand down to rest on your lower back, he led you into what you assumed to be the dining room. A chair squeaked against the floor as Jogin pulled it out and instructed you to sit.

You could feel Jongin’s warmth seeping into you from behind and you jumped when his lips grazed your ear.

“I wanted today to be special for you, for us, _____–”

Your heart sped up at the sound of his voice. It was hard not to get distracted when he was so close to you, the feel of his arms around you never failed to make you melt.

“Voila!” Jongin exclaimed, theatrically pulling the blindfold from your eyes.

On reflex, you squeezed your eyes shut to block out the dim light from the chandelier. After a few seconds, you hesitantly cracked an eye open, and you saw it.

Square with rows of tiny indentations and little flecks of dark green and orange, you weren’t sure what to make of the charred–ahem–crispy item perched alone on the large, white plate. You cleared your throat, cognizant of the way Jongin was looking at you looking at his creation. Eyes gleaming with pride. Expectantly waiting for your praise.

You chose your words carefully, trying to make sense of what you were seeing, while not shattering your gentle boyfriend’s heart.

“Jongin, baby…what’s–uh–on the menu, tonight?”

He laughed, as though it was obvious. “It’s a fried rice waffle, silly!”

You looked between the hockey puck on your plate and your sweet boyfriend’s face, grateful for once that you’d taken that god-awful acting class in college.

“It looks…”, you struggled to find the right word, “...interesting…”

Jongin’s head bobbed enthusiastically. “Are you gonna take a bite?”

You nodded with what you hoped was realistic enthusiasm.

God, you sucked at acting. You failed that acting class, don’t you remember?

It was worse than you imagined.

Way worse.

You broke off a piece, chewing gingerly, all while Jongin intently watched your face, waiting for your reaction. All at once, your tongue was hit with a spectrum of flavors and textures–bitter, crunchy, hard, soft, and the overwhelming taste of spring onion. Just…bleh…

“So?” he asked, leaning forward, eyes wide in anticipation.

The glob of “waffle” stuck in your throat at his question, and you swallowed hard to push it down,

“It’s..um..very crunchy…and…um…onion-y?”

Jongin’s face fell.

“It’s awful,” he moaned, covering his face with his hands. He sat down in the chair next to you with his shoulders slumped, the very picture of dejection. “I never should’ve taken cooking advice from Chanyeol and Sehun,” he muttered, almost to himself.

You froze. “I thought you said Kyungsoo taught you this recipe.”

Jongin looked up from his hands and worried his lower lip.

“He did…but then Sehun showed me a TikTok and Chanyeol had a waffle iron…and I just…messed up. Why can’t I cook like Kyungsoo?” he moaned.

He looked so sad, your baby. And he had tried so hard for you tonight. You stood from your chair and folded him into your arms, resting your chin on his head.

“Jongin,” you started, “you and I both know that would be asking a lot of the universe. Be the most handsome and skilled dancer in all of K-Pop and be a good cook? You’d be just too amazing to be real.”

Jongin chuckled beneath you, reaching up to stroke your cheek.

“Besides,” you continued, “Kyungsoo has his strengths and you have yours. Affectionate. Kind. Generous. Smooth on the dance floor. So handsome,” you listed, punctuating each compliment with a peck on the lips.

Your boyfriend hummed in the back of his throat, a slow smile spreading on his face.

“Actually, ____, there is one more thing I have planned for tonight,” he said with a mysterious smile.

He led you to the couch in the living room and gently pressed on your shoulders for you to sit. Telling you to wait, he flipped the lightswitch, plunging the room in darkness. Suddenly, the room was dimly illuminated by a string of clear fairy lights, the soft tones of “Peaches” drifting through the surround-sound speakers.

“Pretty girl, you’re like peaches…it’s a soft embrace…a sweetness that spreads in my mouth…feels good to be the bad guy…”

Jongin leapt into action, his body like water, flowing through the movements like he was born to do. His eyes held yours as he flew and you knew every word of this song was meant for you. Without warning, Jongin sprung forward, pulling you up from the couch and into his arms. As the last notes faded away, you simply swayed together, enjoying each other’s nearness.

Jongin squeezed you close and whispered words of love in your ear. You held his face between your hands and counted your blessings that this wonderful man had found his way into your life.

You stretched on your toes to give him a kiss, only to be rudely interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.

“Were you expecting anyone, babe?” you asked, glancing quizzically at the door.

Jongin shook his head, just as perplexed.

You waited as he walked to the entrance and you could hear the muffled sound of a voice on the other side. The door closed and Jongin came back with a takeout container. Inside you found a feast of your and Jongin’s favorite foods–fried chicken, roasted duck, bibimbap, and tteokbokki–along with an expensive bottle of wine.

“Did you order this?” you asked.

He shook his head, shrugging his shoulders “No, but the delivery said it’s bought and paid for, so…”

Across the room, Jongin’s phone lit up with a text:

“Jongin-ah, just a tip: never take cooking advice from amateurs like us. Enjoy your meal 😜.

~Chanyeol and Sehun”

“Wow, just wow,” Jongin explained sarcastically. “Can’t trust anyone these days.”

“Except me,” you added, batting your eyelashes playfully.

“Except you,” he agreed. “Well…shall we?” he said, motioning towards the food.

You nodded. “Might as well,” you said with a smile.

“Happy anniversary, jagi.”