Work Text:
He doesn’t get to cook much anymore, if rarely. Even when he goes back home, his family cooks. His brother always making a feast to make sure Yoongi’s eating well. He only gets to do it when the group is filming something and staying somewhere for a while. He’d much rather enjoy a decent meal than have to deal with eating ramyun for every meal (not that it’s a bad thing, but ramyun can only take you so far if you’re eating it for 4 meals in a row).
Taehyung had organized the trip, a little vacation of sorts. Altogether in Jeonju staying in a hanok with a modern kitchen.
They went grocery shopping earlier and unanimously decided on kimchi jjigae and bought little banchans. Naturally, the cooking went to Yoongi. Seokjin volunteered to help but Yoongi shooed him away, telling him to rest. Besides, Yoongi wanted the quietness to himself. He always relaxed a little more when he was cooking, focusing instead on the methodical sounds of chopping, stirring, or frying. It quieted his mind, gave him free rein to let his mind wander.
“Suga hyung, do you need help?”
Yoongi already chased off a laughing Taehyung, a helpful Jimin, and an exhausted Seokjin. Namjoon and Hoseok knew better than to ask. Yoongi thinks he wants this thin piece of quiet to himself. His lips are already forming the words to tell Jeongguk no, that it’s fine. Hyung’s got this.
But he doesn’t.
His words fall apart when he glances at Jeongguk who’s looking at him earnestly. The boundless energy he usually radiates shifting and compacting into something delicate and warm.
He doesn’t mind it. Doesn’t mind Jeongguk’s company and his help. Or more like, Yoongi’s willpower, or semblance of one crumbles into nothing as he’s faced with the maknae that he so often ends up indulging.
So instead he says this, “Sure. Can you get out the other cutting board and start cutting the kimchi?”
Jeongguk gives him a small nod and is already moving but his lips twitch into a tiny smile that Yoongi doesn’t miss. He pretends not to notice.
“Cut them into slightly bigger than bite sized and put them into the stone pot. There’s already oil, butter, and garlic in there. Then turn on the stove to low heat.”
“‘Kay.”
And Yoongi works on cutting the samgyeopsal pieces, thinking about other things. Mindlessly humming to the tune he was fiddling with days before.
He scoops up the pieces of the samgyeopsal and dumps them into the stone pot that’s now slightly sizzling. Yoongi goes back to wash the cutting board and his hand. He turns to the stove to see if there was a spoon there to start mixing everything.
But Jeongguk’s already there, focused on the pot, stirring with a wooden spoon. The aroma of garlic and kimchi waft in the air. Yoongi can already feel his stomach growling.
There’s the slightest crease in Jeongguk’s forehead as he carefully watches to make sure the ingredients don’t burn. Yoongi watches him as he reaches for the kimchi gukmul from the container.
Yoongi is always aware of the cameras, catching his every movement, every microexpression. Sometimes he gets hyper aware and has to really try and pretend to be natural. Depending on where he is or what he’s doing. Smile a bit, laugh a bit. Award show? Look focused on the performances and ments. Doing Bangtan stuff? Pretend to be present if he isn’t at least going to join in on the antics.
He used to be fascinated with the cameras. Uncomfortable, but fascinated. And slowly they became something that he just dealt with. At times, begrudging and loathing them for taking over every corner of his life. But now he’s made his resigned peace with them.
Jeongguk always looks like he’s ready for the camera. From someone that used to be so painfully shy he couldn’t talk properly into the camera, much less change in front of his hyungs in the dorms. Instead of going through a phase of detesting them like Yoongi has, he seemed to bloom and thrive under them. Whether he’s genuinely laughing or forcing one, it always looks real, so tangible. He flourishes and sparkles underneath the heat and blinding flashes.
Yoongi knows Jeongguk, knows him like the piano songs that he can forever play through muscle memory. Knows him like the hundreds of scribbled down words he’s ever written and poured his heart into.
But sometimes, Yoongi wonders if he really knows.
Jeongguk isn’t the same reserved boy as he was when they first debuted. The boy that shared his fears and secrets to the hyungs that struggled just as much but braved a confident front for their youngest.
Jeongguk still confides in them. But it’s different. He’s more self-assured, confident in himself and the world around him. Like the world has settled in place for Jeongguk and Jeongguk alone.
So Yoongi doesn’t know how to interpret when Jeongguk sometimes sports a sly look and a hushed smile. Secrets that he keeps for himself.
It’s incredibly selfish, but Yoongi never claimed to be a generous man. Not for things that he really wanted. Yoongi wants to pry out every single secret from him, have Jeongguk share with him a piece of more than that comforting warmth, more than that glimmering smile.
Yoongi lets Jeongguk stir as he pours in the kimchi gukmul and puts in the milky water from the rinsed rice.
Jeongguk frowns, “What’s that hyung?”
Yoongi feels the sudden body heat radiating from Jeongguk’s body as he crowds in closer. Hovering over Yoongi and looking closely at the bowl of rice water in his hands. Jeongguk has no sense of personal space when it comes to his curiosity.
“It’s the water from the rinsed rice. Not the first rinse. The second rinse.”
Jeongguk scrunches his nose, “Why?”
Yoongi feels Jeongguk’s gossamer touch on his lower back. Fingertips lightly brushing against him.
Yoongi shrugs, “It’s how my mom did it. Something about the starch making the soup a little thicker.”
“Huh.” Jeongguk says, like that made all the sense in the world. Jeongguk doesn’t move and Yoongi doesn’t hold his breath. He maneuvers himself out of the suddenly crowded space. Jeongguk lets him but he stays in place, going back to mixing the soup.
“You don’t have to stir it anymore. Can you put in the sugar though? Half a spoonful.” Yoongi says as he starts cutting up the firm tofu into little blocks.
“Okay.”
As Yoongi puts the tofu into the pot, he sees Jeongguk sneak a mouthful of sugar.
Yoongi raises his eyebrows, like ‘ really? ’ and Jeongguk isn’t fazed a bit. Looks right back at him and raises his eyebrows in return ‘ yeah, really ’. It’s a funny stare off as Jeongguk giggles through the sugar he just consumed.
Yoongi gives in, rolling his eyes instead. Half giving in, half pretending to be put out by Jeongguk’s silliness.
“You shouldn’t copy Namjoon.” Yoongi lightly chides with no bite.
“Need that suga so that I can hold over until dinner.” Jeongguk snorts, laughing at his own little joke.
Yoongi scoffs at the corniness.
“Why’d you put in the sugar?” Jeongguk is back to sticking right into Yoongi’s space, hooking his chin onto Yoongi’s right shoulder.
“To counteract the acidity, the sourness of the kimchi. It balances it out.”
“Mmhmm.”
“Want to put in the red chili powder?”
“Yeah.”
“Quarter of a spoonful, but you can always adjust after you taste.”
Jeongguk does as he’s told, stirs it in and they put the lid on it. Having it simmer away.
They move onto different things, setting up the table, getting the banchans out, fluffing the fresh rice. Jeongguk occasionally brushing his arm against Yoongi’s or Yoongi casually bumping his thigh against Jeongguk’s.
Twenty minutes later and Yoongi has taken off the lid of the happily bubbling kimchi jjigae.
“Do you want to try it first?”
Jeongguk eagerly bounds over, “Yeah.”
Yoongi gently blows on the spoon and holds the lid under the spoon as he carefully feeds it to Jeongguk who unwaveringly matches his gaze. Jeongguk makes an appreciative noise, closing his eyes and nodding his head.
“Maybe little more red chili powder?” His eyes get bigger, like he’s seeking for approval. To make sure his answer is right.
“Let’s see,” Yoongi murmurs, enjoying the way Jeongguk waits for his reaction.
Yoongi takes a little longer, just because he can. And savors Jeongguk’s singular focus on him a little more than the kimchi jjigae.
“You’re right, it needs more.”
Jeongguk already has the container in hand and sprinkles it in. Yoongi stirs the soup again.
“It’s ready. Call the others?”
They praise Yoongi and Jeongguk for the delicious dinner, as everyone chatters away and go in for seconds. Yoongi waves away their compliments and Jeongguk preens under the attention, bright smile never leaving his face.
Maybe Jeongguk scoots in a little closer to Yoongi so that their thighs are touching. And maybe Yoongi lets his hand rest against Jeongguk’s thigh. And maybe when Jeongguk turns to Yoongi and gives him a brief private smile, Yoongi just savors it.