What should you give to a man who has everything?
But Jumin’s lack of interest in sweets daunted you. You were a baker at heart - you loved to dip your fingers in frosting and cookie batter, and Jumin preferred steak and foie gras.
Those were one in the same right?
You tried to follow several celebrity chefs - Gordon Ramsay and Jaime Oliver specifically - but to no avail. Too many dishes were either burnt to a crisp or overcooked - a nice and more roundabout way to say burnt.
You weren’t about to give in so easily, however. This was for your husband, the absolute and undeniable love of your life. You were going to make him the fanciest dinner he had ever set his eyes on, and you were going to be successful.
“Beef fillet. Lean meat with little fine sinews of fat running through. It just melts in your mouth like butter. Seasoned.”
You lightly seasoned the fillet with salt and pepper, eyes glued to the overhanging tablet. With Gordon Ramsay as your instructor, what could go wrong?
You moved your hand over a cast-iron skillet and delicately poured olive oil… and winced as the oil hopped and skipped from the pan onto you.
“Ow, ow!!” You yanked the skillet from the stove and yelped once it hit the floor, almost smashing your toes.
“Seal. Mustard. Think about it. Fillet beef wellington, English mustard. You aren’t gonna put dijon on there, are you?”
You grabbed a cloth and plopped the skillet back onto the stove. “Slow down, Mister Ramsay! Okay, where… where is my mustard… wait, how long do I cook the beef?!”
“Mushrooms. Seasoned. Blitz.”
Frazzled, you gathered your mushrooms and threw them into the food processor, switching it on shortly after.
“Now, we’ve got to take the water out of the mushrooms.”
You brushed your hair away from your face with a huff. “Wha - I’m not done blitzing Mister Ramsay, I still don’t know what a blitz is!”
“Look how wet they are. You don’t put oil or butter into the pan. You put nothing in there.”
“Oh my god.” With a pop, you shut off the drowning noises from the machine.
“Look how much water’s coming out now.”
A frustrated huff followed by a roll of the eyes. “I can’t Mister Ramsay, I’m not there yet.”
It all happened so quickly. You couldn’t make heads or tails of it - one second you were scooping the processed mushrooms from the processor, the next… it was on your husband’s chest.
“... I am so sorry Jumin, are you okay?!”
Jumin gathered the mushroom concoction onto the tip of his finger, licking it and lightly smacking his lips.
“No, oh my gosh, please don’t eat that,” you sighed while dabbing his vest and tie with a wet cloth. “Welcome home…”
“You don’t seem very enthused,” Jumin chuckled lightly, swiping the mushroom on your nose and shifting your chin upward.
“Sorry,” you smiled weakly, swiping the mushroom from your nose. “I wanted… I was hoping to make you Beef Wellington.”
Jumin’s fingers tenderly massaged your arms. “Beef Wellington? Gordon Ramsay’s recipe?”
“Yes,” you pouted. “It’s your birthday and it’s such a special day, so why not go all out you know? It isn’t coming together, though…”
“Come now, darling,” Jumin lightly chastised you, pinching your cheek. “You’re far too hard on yourself. We’ll make it together, hm?”
“No, this is for you to enjoy!”
“I enjoy spending time with my wife,” Jumin crooned, wrapping his arms around your waist.
“... You’re still so smooth. For an old man, that is.”
He laughed heartily, digging his fingers into your stomach and tickling you mercilessly. “Excuse you?”
“Ju-Jumin!! Stop!!” You pried his hands from your stomach, lightly kissing his knuckles.
He turned his palm up and cupped your cheek, stroking your cheekbone. “Shall we, my love?”
“Yeah…” You beamed. “Yeah, let’s do it.”
Both you and Jumin stared blankly at the ingredients. The tablet was greased with fingerprints and olive oil, the Parma ham lay abused from repetitive folds… and there was still remnants of mushroom on Jumin’s vest.
“Yeah, this uh… this isn’t gonna happen,” you shook your head.
“... What does blitz mean darling?”
“I still don’t know!!” You giggled, dabbing your husband’s vest.
“Thank you,” Jumin hummed, his hand gripping your fingers delicately.
“For what, the mess I created?” You teased.
“Precisely that. We can spend more time with each other cleaning everything up. It’s the perfect end to a perfect day.”
“You’re adorable, Jumin.” You tugged his tie down and planted a wet kiss on his cheek. “Happy birthday, honey… I’m about to get sappy and emotional, but you mean the world to me, and I’m so… I’m so happy you’re here.”
He closed his eyes, pulling your hand to his cheek and affectionately kissed your palm. “I was born for you, my love. I was born to love and adore you, and to be loved and adored by you.”
“You were born to fulfill your dreams and your desires, Jumin!” You beamed, blushing madly.
“You are my dream. And you are my desire. I need nothing else.”
“... You’re going to make me melt. How you come up with these things is beyond me.”
Jumin chuckled gently, tucking his fingers under your chin and kissing you devotedly. “I was a poet in a past life.”
“I thought you don’t believe in past lives!”
“I didn’t believe in a lot of things until you came along, lady.”
Dazed yet entranced, you cupped his cheeks and smooshed them lightly, arousing him to hold the small of your back.
“I love you,” he growled against your lips.
“I love you. And happy birthday. You old coot.”
“Make another joke about me being old. I dare you.”
His fingers burrowed into your stomach again - you squirmed and squealed, screaming, “You can’t keep using the same attack, Jumin!”
“Come,” Jumin lightly patted your rump. “We need to clean.”
“Huh, look at you! You didn’t push it off to the maid! I guess what they say is true, you can -”
Jumin raised a wary brow at you.
“Teach an old dog new tri -”
He plucked you up, throwing you over his shoulder rather recklessly.
“Gah, Jumin!! I was just kidding, heeh, put me down!!”
“You don’t seem to realize what comes out of that pretty mouth of yours,” he hummed coolly, moving closer to the bed. “I’m charmed, but my feelings are hurt. And you need to take responsibility.”
“I’m sorry ~!!” You pleaded. “Mercy Juju, mercy!!”
