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He's not pouting about it, really. People are still coming over, mostly, and there will still be sweets, even if it's not birthday cake. Seokjin tries to keep Namjoon's suggestion in mind that they've asked for hotteok so that he doesn't have to cook all by himself (never mind that he wouldn't have to cook at all if he bought a birthday cake). He's almost finished getting everything ready too. The hotteok batter is proofing. The miyeok guk is simmering on the stove.

A text went off an hour ago with a generous birthday gift from his father. The number still makes Seokjin's stomach twist to think about.

And maybe he should have just reminded the others that today is his birthday. It's just that he'd sort of hoped they'd remember without him saying but maybe that's just a selfish expectation.

He really shouldn't pout. But he does have the face for it.

There's a knock on the door and a buzz from his phone and Seokjin smiles his biggest smile. At least someone's come. That should be enough.

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The mention of popping and burning oil is enough to make Jungkook wince a little, having had his share of small splatters from the few occasions he tries to help his mom stir food in the wok. He hasn't proven himself very capable of containing the mess so far, and there's no reason to think tonight will be any different. It's easier to manage actions that can be done deliberately.

Oil is kind of scary.

"Eggs, milk, and— yah!" Jungkook exclaims, clapping a hand over his own mouth at having briefly dropped the formal speech, though as soon as he sees Jin brandishing a spoon, Jungkook is pretty sure his hyung won't mind. "Seokjin mathyung! You play dirty!"

Jungkook grabs the egg whisk, bending his knees and thrusting it forward like a foil.

"Old age and corruption beat youth and beauty every time and, unlucky for you, I have both," Seokjin declares. He ducks down behind the fridge and then pauses while he's there, looking at the door of the fridge. There's a little, hotel-sized jar of marmalade that he must have swiped the last time he was on an airplane or putting in one of his rare appearances for a family event.

"I found marmalade!" he says, holding it out just beyond the boundary of the fridge door so that he can be seen to be telling the truth. "I offer a truce if we can use it in one of the hotteok!"

Jungkook continues to hold the whisk out in self-defense, edging slightly closer to the fridge. He's pretty sure that a whisk can beat the spoon, if for no other reason that it's wider, takes up more space. And, if there's anything where Jungkook suspects he can beat out most of his hyungs, it's in reflexes. He's fast at running. Fast at dodging. Maybe Taehyung might be able to keep up, but he suspects Seokjin can't.

Seeing the marmalade jar, Jungkook narrows his eyes.

"You'd better split it up between a couple, because if it's only the one, there's no way it's not going to the birthday boy," Jungkook points out.

Seokjin's never prioritized quick reflexes. Running away has never helped him in verbal or physical confrontations with his father. No, his gift has always been in taking the brunt of an attack with grace. It makes him a hell of a tank when need be. Including when his enemy has a whisk.

"I promise," he says, setting the spoon down on the counter with all the gravitas of a loaded gun.

"It's not very big, which is why I missed it, but hotteok don't need a huge amount of filling anyway. Let's do it."

With his chin slightly raised, Jungkook watches the spoon being set down on the counter before he similarly lowers his whisk, barely able to contain the smile that threatens to spread across his face. There aren't many hyungs who are quite this playful with him, and no one manages it in quite the way that Seokjin does, with his childlike whimsy that never seems to fade.

"Are you just naturally talented at cooking, hyung?" Jungkook asks, looking just a touch overwhelmed once more as he returns his gaze to the gathered ingredients. It's one thing to prep. It's another to cook, and Jungkook can only hope to closely watch and replicate whatever steps Seokjin takes. "Okay, I'm your additional pair of hands. What should I do?"

"I'm naturally talented at eating," Seokjin says, laughing. "And when I taste something good, I want to be able to have it again for myself, whenever I want. So I learn how to make it." As he talks, he cracks the eggs one by one over a slotted spoon until they're all separated.

"Warm the milk on the stove while I mix the eggs. When it's hot, we put a little of the milk into the eggs and then stir it all together until it's delicious." It's a little bit more complicated than that and he remembers watching some TV show that explained why it has to be done that way, but mostly now he just wants custard.

The description isn't all that different than how Jungkook feels about the piano, he thinks. How everything started with listening to Yoongi's music, the soft melodies and harmonies, the way that everything could dark and stormy in one moment, then light a second later, gentle drops after a heavy rain. Something about the fact that it's food that touches Jin in this way is comforting and endearing alike.

"Should I warm it quickly or slowly?" Jungkook asks, taking a pot over to the stove and sparking the fire, pouring in about half a liter to start with. "And is this enough? Do we want it boiling, or — wouldn't that cook the eggs too fast?"

He glances over with an apologetic look; there's no doubt that he hasn't developed instincts in the kitchen yet.

"Medium heat, turn it off when it starts to bubble at the edges." By now, Seokjin has to check his phone for a custard recipe but it's actually straightforward enough, as long as they do the steps in the proper order. "That's why you put some of the warm milk into the eggs and mix them before adding the eggs back in, it says here. It brings the eggs to temperature so you get delicious custard instead of a dessert omelet." Which, frankly, sounds pretty gross.

Seokjin smiles and tries not to make it obvious that he finds Jungkook's concern adorable. It's perfectly reasonable that his friend is nervous. So is Jin, when he's trying out a new recipe that he intends to share, but it's not often that Jungkook defers to him without at least a little bit of sarcasm.

"If it doesn't come out right, we throw it out and don't tell anyone out there. I'm swearing you to secrecy."

Bubble at the edges. That seems descriptive enough to Jungkook, who quickly lowers the heat so that it's at half-strength, staring at the surface of the milk with wide eyes. With both of his hands free, he could probably afford to do a little more multi-tasking, but the risk of getting this wrong is too great. He doesn't want to be the one responsible for not having custard hotteok.

He's not sure whether Seokjin's joke helps or hurts, but Jungkook looks over with a bewildered smile.

"Are you telling me this for my benefit, or does this mean that hyung actually does have failures in the kitchen?" Jungkook asks, tilting his head in surprise. It's hard to imagine Seokjin actually messing anything up in the kitchen with how easily his hands seem to handle all of the tools and tasks. A second later, he realizes that he should probably still be watching his milk, bending close to the stove, eyeing the edge of the pot.

"It's possible that once your hyung tried to make spaghetti and burnt the sauce to the pan," Seokjin says, pretending he's talking about an entirely different hyung and not himself. "And it's also possible that he was so embarrassed he hid the pan in the backyard under a hydrangea bush and pushed some dirt over it.

He's also pretty sure that the family cook had covered for him, for which he's eternally grateful. After that incident, he'd gotten better at cooking and also at hiding any mistakes that might earn him his father's disapproval.

"It's just practice. And reading lots of recipes."

"Ah, seriously?" Jungkook laughs, almost doubling over as he turns to get a look at Seokjin's expression — which, of course, is impassive and practiced, like he's very good at removing himself from the situation. Of course, the description alone starts to paint a picture — Jin, a little younger but just as cute, just as handsome, eagerly trying his hand in the kitchen and having it all go wrong.

The thought is intensely adorable.

"Ah, hyung, sometimes I thought — I assumed you were born with the chef's hand," he snickers, turning his attention back on the pot and grabbing a wooden spoon to help stir. "It's good to know that you had to practice, too. It's more than just recipes, though. Hyung's food tastes good because there's love in it, you know?"

Jungkook starts to laugh and Seokjin breaks character, giggling along with him. Now that he's not twelve years old, the story is much funnier. At the time he'd been in an absolute panic, running between the kitchen and the backyard all while holding a saucepan and looking like it might explode. He's not sure his father ever found out; he was never disciplined for that mistake but plenty of other reasons came along in its stead anyway.

"I like delicious things," he says. "And I like knowing that I can make them too. And share them with people." He'll never be able to match his friends for the sheer talent they have and he'll never have the head for business that his father has, but at least he can nourish them and cheer them on.

The small bubbles start to form at the edge of the pot — at least, Jungkook's pretty sure they count as bubbles, but he's not really sure if size is a big consideration — and Jungkook immediately turns off the heat, hands raised in the air as though any additional touch might ruin what seems to be under control. It's only a second later that he decides to take the handle, carefully carrying the pot to the counter Seokjin is working at and looking for a placemat to put underneath.

"Everything Jin hyung makes is delicious, so you must love your own cooking. Now, anyway," Jungkook says, a soft laugh again at the thought of Seokjin digging a hole in the dirt. "And it does seem like a really great talent. I mean, everyone eats, right? Hyung can work his way into everyone's hearts this way."

Seokjin laughs but a not insignificant part of him feels warm and happy from the inside out at the suggestion that his cooking is a talent. He's never really thought of it as such and definitely never thought of it as being anywhere on the tier of Yoongi and Jungkook's music or Hoseok and Jimin's dance.

"Maybe I should become a TV chef and go back to America," he teases. "I'll bring the six of you over as my retinue and we can take over the country."

"Ah... if you brought us with you, that'd be nice," Jungkook quietly whines at the thought. While it's true that there's only so much he knows about the States, there's enough American entertainment available that he gets the impression of a freer, more open society. A place where people aren't so heavily pressured into fitting into a single mold that better serves the group.

He wonders if they'd all do better in a country like that.

"I'd be a very diligent sous chef," Jungkook promises, turning to Seokjin with a determined look. "I would heat as much milk for you as you wanted."

"You'd be the best sous chef. Yoongi can produce the show. Namjoon can...stay away from the cameras. Important things." It's a wonderful dream, one he's had before but which he's never dwelt on. If he lets the idea ripen, it'll become temptation that he knows will never really come to fruition. As much as he wishes his friends could discard the people and things that make them miserable, he knows there are duties, standards, that make it unlikely.

Focusing on something else, Jin reaches across to take a ladleful of the hot milk and pour it slowly into the eggs, whisking it together. "This keeps them from scrambling."

The mention of Yoongi pulls a slight flush to Jungkook's cheeks, one which he does his best to ignore as he pulls his lower lip between his teeth, watching Jin's deft movements instead. As much as Jungkook is eager to have the others know of their dating status, he still feels adamantly like this isn't the right time. It's Jin's day to shine, besides which Jungkook doesn't want to risk making anyone feel uncomfortable at a celebration.

"Ahh..." he says instead, leaning over to watch as Jin ladles the milk in. "Does the milk cook the eggs at all? Like I know we don't want it to cook too quickly, but does it still kinda cook as we're whisking?"

"I think it warms them up so they don't change temperature so fast that they cook. I need to look up the actual reason but I know it works," Seokjin says. There's a science to it and probably he should know more, be better able to explain the raveling and unraveling of proteins and bubble foam matrix structure, but he only cares in so much as it lets him know how to make things delicious.

"The point is, we will have delicious custard and we get first dibs on trying them because we made it."

"Ah, if you know it works, then that's all I need to know it's going to be delicious," Jungkook says with relish, shaking his head as he watches Jin carefully adding more milk in and stirring. For Jungkook, watching others take themselves to task has always been the quickest way for him to learn as well. His hands subconsciously twitch, as though trying to follow the movements of Jin's, even without a pot or tools in hand.

"Hyung definitely gets first dibs. But I'm happy with second," he adds, beaming. "I think I'm always going to remember how to make custard now."

"I'd probably look smarter if I knew the science behind it. Or maybe if I just wore my glasses." Seokjin pauses his stirring long enough to make circles out of his thumbs and index fingers and hold them up in front of his eyes ."What do you think? Am I a genius now?"

Laughing off whatever answer is going to follow, Seokjin returns his attention to the custard. "A little more cooking and it'll be nice and thick, good for inside a hotteok?"

"Ooh, your IQ is definitely over 150 now," Jungkook replies with a serious tone and a furrowed brow, an expression he's only able to maintain for a few seconds before he dissolves into laughter with his hyung. Truth be told, Jungkook's always thought that Seokjin had one of the more intellectually handsome faces of their group, but it's never felt like one of the ways that he wanted to define himself, so Jungkook doesn't tread the topic too often.

Instead, he reaches for the ladle Seokjin stirs with. "I can keep an eye on this while you prepare the dough, maybe? I just have to stir it, right?"

"I said the glasses made me look smarter," Seokjin protests. "I didn't say they made me look like Namjoon." He laughs at the unlikely mistake. Though he and Namjoon are the tallest of the bunch, that's about where the similarities end. Intellectually as well, Jin knows he'll never measure up.

Probably best not to think about Namjoon.

Seokjin lifts the whisk out of the custard and shows Jungkook the way it ribbons back down into the pot. "Keep it smooth like this. I think we want it a little thicker, otherwise it'll spill out of the dough." Which, actually, doesn't sound that bad. Just so very messy.

"I don't think any of us can measure up to Namjoon hyung in that way, anyway," Jungkook snickers, though his expression is fond. His affection for all of his hyungs is strong enough that he'd try to bolster their confidence in any way possible, but there are some facts that are simply not worth fighting over. Namjoon is the smartest of them. Seokjin, the most doting and protective.

Jungkook steps in with wide eyes, watching as Seokjin pulls the whisk out and a strand of custard quickly coils back into the pot. "Wow," he marvels, grinning as he takes the whisk in hand and repeats the motion, finding a quiet pleasure in the movement of the custard. "Spilling out of the dough sounds kind of fun, but yeah, I guess not while we're indoors, huh?" Jungkook continues whisking the mixture, keeping a sense of its thickness.

"It looks nice right?" he asks, taking pleasure in Jungkook's tiny moment of delight. "Sometimes I like to just watch it." Many of his friends in America had liked making 'slime' for similar reasons but he'd always preferred using something edible. For Seokjin, cooking is its own therapy, especially when he has something to show for his efforts.

He can't help the mental image of a hotteok bursting in the pan and custard going everywhere like someone getting a pie to the face like in old cartoons and the thought makes him grin. "Have you seen the video where that girl group member makes different filling hotteok and uses chili sauce in one? She puts too much and it explodes in the pan."

Jungkook nods his agreement, licking his lower lip before reaching in the utensils drawer for a single chopstick, which he drags through the custard and promptly sticks in his mouth. Maybe sneaking tastes isn't terribly responsible — but at least he had the decency not to stick his finger directly in there, Jungkook thinks. It can't be any worse than sneaking raw cookie dough.

As he savors the sweet taste on his tongue, he wonders how often Jin sneaks tastes of his own cooking. He probably does, Jungkook thinks. Probably takes steps to make sure it's just right, before passing it off to his dongsaengs.

"Ah, I haven't seen that," Jungkook shakes his head, halfway tempted to pull his phone out of his pocket and search for said video. He pauses though, blinking at a sudden thought. "I hope she's okay?"

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ineedanepiphany - 2019-01-06 06:36 (UTC) - Expand

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