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Seung Gil should have recognized the disaster in the air when he heard the loud pounding on the door. He’d hoped it’d go away, that it was just some angry mailman having a particularly bad day, but he knew how absurd that thought was. He was in Canada, the land of niceties, and these people were probably the last beings on the continent to abuse a slab of wood for their problems.
Before long, the sound had greeted his ears again, this time accompanied by the emphatic usage of his name and a colorful assortment of words, and he’d finally moved off of the couch to meet his doom.
From the moment his former rival had barreled into his home, it’d been chaos, and the unfortunate situation that was being shoved in his face hadn’t become any clearer. He’d been in plenty of strange situations since he’d started spending his off-season in his boyfriend’s home country, but this had to take the cake, in a somewhat literal sense.
Yuri Plisetsky, once a problem child, now a medalled champion, wanted to bake .
After over an hour, Seung Gil still wasn’t sure whether he was being pranked or not.
Now, the green eyes narrowed dangerously, staring at the empty bowl between them. “What do you mean you can’t bake? How can you not bake?” Elegant fingers pulled through long locks, deftly pulling them into a ponytail. “Why did you think I came over here?”
“The kitchen?” Seung Gil debated whether he should be afraid of the look Yuri was sending him. “JJ cooks when we eat in.”
“JJ?” The young blonde seemed torn on whether he wanted to quit or just throw the tin of flour into the oven directly. “I’m not asking you to cook. I’m asking you to help me make pastries. For White Day. We don’t need JJ for this.”
“I never said we needed JJ,” Seung Gil noted, a touch away from being offended. His significant other didn’t have to be the knight in shining armor in every situation. “I imagine we can figure this out. It’s just math.”
“You just said you can’t bake,” retorted Yuri, still a dynamic firecracker regardless of the years that had passed. Now just under Seung Gil’s height, the fierceness was all the more intimidating when it could have once been cute. “How could you possibly help? These need to be better than Katsuki’s or there’s no point to it.”
“I can make noodles,” he offered, opening up the container of flour and waving away the cloud that puffed into the air. “And I can do math. That’s half a step better than you.”
“Are you trying to pick a fight?”
“You ruined popcorn because you microwaved it too long a week ago.” Yuri huffed at the truth of it, clearly finding no way to refute what had happened. “Aren’t you missing the point of White Day?”
The blonde had started scooping out flour into a bowl, and, while he couldn’t be entirely sure, Seung Gil had a distinct feeling that the Russian was going to set the kitchen ablaze if he didn’t stay to watch him. Even with his small amount of half-baked cooking expertise, mostly pulled from watching his more able half, he knew that you were supposed to use the measuring cups to measure over just shoveling flour at will.
His new cooking partner paused mid scoop, glancing at him as if sensing his skepticism. “Is there something wrong with being better?”
“Better in this case is relative.” Seung Gil reached over, wrinkling his nose as he leveled the cup for the blonde. He grimaced as it joined the rest of the flour. “Currently, I’d settle with just not setting my boyfriend’s kitchen on fire.”
The blonde shoveled more flour into the bowl, and it was then that Seung Gil decided he’d go along with this for the sake of everyone involved.
In between trying to stop Yuri from adding the wrong ingredients into the pastries, Seung Gil pieced together a decent picture of what was going on. It wasn’t exactly a surprise to him that this was a competition to Yuri Plisetsky and no one else, and this was another instance of the blonde’s competitive streak kicking in.
It wasn’t particularly new, as it’d become almost a running joke in their circle. All of these so-called competitions were somewhat single minded in nature, just like this one. This time, his Japanese nemesis had unknowingly started a baking war due to one single picture on Instagram, and now here they were, stuck in JJ’s enormous kitchen without a single hope between them.
Seung Gil had ultimately thought better of adding fuel to the fire, and tried his best to salvage the mess, finding a recipe that would lead them in the right direction. It didn’t take him long to come to the conclusion that, even with the internet holding their hands, they were both more than hopeless at this skill called cooking. Yuri seemed to be partially convinced that it would eventually turn out if he kept adding flour, and Seung Gil was slowly getting ready to call the fire department if one more thing decided to burn.
He was nearing the point of surrender when he heard the jingling of keys he’d learned to listen for, the quiet clink of blades being tucked away and a coat being hung. More time had passed than he thought, confirmed when he glanced at the time on the microwave, smudged over by flour fingerprints. He’d been hoping to be done and over with this by the time JJ had said his coaching practice was over, but there was no mistaking that disasters took just as much time to make as masterpieces.
Like always, he pretended not to hear the footsteps coming through the doorway, and groaned to himself as he noted the mess around them. There was no masking the fact that this was an utter failure. No amount of pretty presentations could salvage this into something reasonable.
He tried his best not to blush as warm hands curled around his waist, a chin settling familiarly on his shoulder. Yuri barely glanced up from his work, sending them both a look that verged on disgust, before taking the rolling pin and slamming it down onto the dough.
Seung Gil’s assailant was close enough that the fresh scent of shampoo hit his nose, and he protested lightly, too trapped against the counter to push the Canadian off. He wanted to ask about the coaching lessons his partner had just come from, but knew from his light movements that they’d gone well, and was sure he’d hear about it later. In the off-season, it was a ritual, but it was a ritual they both enjoyed, and so Seung Gil didn’t ask then, just whispered a greeting into the space between.
The laugh was there in the taller man’s tone as he pressed affectionate words into Seung Gil’s hair, before he turned back to the ongoing war zone.
“Yuri, love, I think Otabek isn’t going to like it if those are smashed,” JJ noted, the chipper tone he always adopted around the Russian sounding humored.
The blonde instantly turned a vibrant shade of red. “Who says they’re for Beka?”
“So they are for him.” The man leaned further over, glancing at the mess in front of them. Gray-blue eyes turned back to Seung Gil, far too amused for his liking, and the taller skater dipped a finger in the strawberry compote, dragging his tongue over his finger with a curious expression. “That’s not bad, but whatever that blobby thing is, on the other hand, is a disaster. I think you have too much flour folded into it to do just about anything.”
Seung Gil glared at him, feeling a touch defeated in knowing that this situation wasn’t going to get better without his more kitchen-inclined half. “Are you going to help?”
JJ snatched his phone off of the counter, dialing in Seung Gil’s passcode without needing to ask. He flipped through the recipe quickly, before setting the phone back on the counter, and turning a blazing smile back to the pair of misfits. “What’s my payment?”
“Not sleeping on the couch.”
JJ had already swiveled and grabbed an apron from inside one of the drawers. He made a look that resembled one of mock offense, before pressing a kiss to Seung Gil’s cheek. “Fine, fine, I’ll help but only because Yuri might break my rolling pin otherwise.”
Yuri grumbled loudly as the king of the kitchen shoved him over slightly, clearly looking to see if the dough was salvageable. “It said to knead it,” Yuri grumbled defensively.
“Where did you get ‘beat it into submission’ from knead?”
“The YouTube videos were moving too quickly,” the blonde snapped, relenting and handing over the rolling pin. JJ discarded all of it, clearly thinking it completely unsalvageable. “What are we doing then, oh savant?”
JJ was clearly taking far too much humor from this entire situation. “You, sir, are going to do something a bit easier. Let’s try for some cupcakes.” He turned an evil grin to Seung Gil. “And, my princess, I’ll be personally coaching you.”
With his much more food savvy partner on scene, the baking adventure went from flying flour and mixer mishaps to some resemblance of order. With only a few minor catastrophes, the cupcakes were doled out into trays and placed in the oven, and, under JJ’s instructions, they tossed the pastry idea in exchange for a layered cake. Seung Gil was only thankful; he definitely didn’t miss the pounding of the roller pin on the countertop.
Once the cake layers were placed in pans, the first batch of cupcakes were done, and Seung GIl found that the process didn’t stop. Before he’d really had time to think about it, they were tackling icing and fillings, a task which was entirely shoved into JJ’s hands when Seung Gil and Yuri were both deemed useless.
Seung Gil watched JJ teach Yuri how to do little patterns with the piping bag, filling plates with floral designs while they waited for them to cool. The patience the man had for his students showed, guiding hands calm regardless of the frustration that Yuri spouted. Gradually Yuri got the hang of it, always a champion when he had a good teacher. By the time he’d wasted the better part of a tube, he seemed to be proud of the designs he’d imitated.
On strawberry duty, Seung Gil paused to take one of the plates while the two of them started on the cooled cupcakes, and he stared at his boyfriend’s handiwork. If JJ had wanted a second profession after he retired from professional skating, he didn’t have to look far, so he’d discovered. He could only hide a grin when JJ tossed him a questioning look.
After what seemed to be far too many strawberries sliced, it was more than a relief when the doorbell rang, and Seung Gil scrambled to get out of the room before anyone else could volunteer for the job. When he opened the door, he blinked mutely as he found Yuri’s more even tempered partner on the other side, helmet in hand.
Otabek slowly smiled, motioning with a single hand, and Seung Gil stepped aside to let him in. He’d been here before, also a regular guest when the skaters came to visit, and Seung Gil wasn’t sure why he was surprised about the situation – to JJ, everyone was welcome, always, and it was something Seung Gil had gradually grown accustomed to.
Otabek was no exception to this, slipping on the guest slippers and stashing his coat before bee-lining to the kitchen. Seung Gil contemplated if he should stop him, but a quick calculation painted the reality that either JJ and Yuri had contacted him.
Seung Gil knew by the time he’d entered the kitchen that JJ had tipped him off. It wasn’t hard to hedge his bets on his other half thinking it was “too cute” to pass up, and it seemed Otabek agreed. Yuri, on the other hand, stared like he was mortified and delighted all at once, the emotions raging across his face transparently. He started to turn to JJ with an accusation clearly on his lips, but Otabek caught him, twirling him around muttering something about his hair. The shorter man instantly defused, huffing but not resisting.
Seung Gil found JJ taste testing the strawberry compote, eyes following the other couple with a grin. “You know, I probably should have called you to hurry home. We’d be done by now.”
“Is that so?” he mused, dark eyes travelling back to him. “What would we do with all of that extra time?”
He planted himself next to JJ, also watching the other couple. Otabek was tying up Yuri’s hair, the normally impassive face lit with a small smile as he listened to his partner ramble about what they were doing. It was clear that Yuri had decided to make the best of the new situation; it wasn’t quite what he’d intended, but even Seung Gil, with his self-admitted obliviousness, could see he was enjoying himself.
Shrugging, he reached up, tilting JJ’s chin toward him. He contemplated the look JJ gave him, one that the younger man got on occasion, usually when he thought Seung Gil wasn’t looking. It was distracting, but JJ seemed expectant this time. “We’re talking about extra time?”
“We’re certainly not talking about lost time,” JJ noted, a chuckle in his tone, before turning back to their work at hand.
Seung Gil stirred the compote once after JJ added a dash of sugar, wondering to himself how that much sugar could possibly be necessary. “I’m sure we’d think of something.”
One arm reaching for the spoon and the other grabbing his waist, there was no question in JJ’s stance on the matter. A taste test later, Seung Gil wrinkled his nose when he glanced up at his partner, sighing. “Stay still.”
He tilted up, letting his lips glide over JJ’s, licking off the strawberry that danced on his lower lip like a gloss. There was no knowing if JJ understood the original intent, but he was happy to oblige. JJ hummed his appreciation, sighing when Seung Gil let go.
It was impulsive, playful in a way he’d learned brought a smile to JJ’s face. It wasn’t something he would have done years ago, nor was it something that was a part of him now, but he loved the response, the openness, the way that expression said everything he’d ever need to know.
He wrinkled his nose as the taste lingered in his mouth. “That’s too sweet.”
JJ just laughed. “We can start over.”
“Isn’t that a waste of time?”
He would never get over how easily the response came, like it was a fundamental truth, the only thing that could possibly make sense. From anyone else, a response like the one JJ gave would make him entirely too skeptical, shrouded in a certain disbelief, but with him, he found just warmth when the blue eyes hit his.
“Nothing about you is a waste of time.”
