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For as much as he wanted to be a top-tier chef (or simply avoid eating the same meal for days at a time), Dan Heng had never been very good at cooking.
No matter what Dan Heng tried, no matter how many recipes he followed meticulously to a T, he always messed up somehow. Maybe he’d mix up the sugar with the salt, or the vinegar with soy sauce.
None of the food he made tasted horrible — usually — but none of it was very good, either.
It was as if the universe were telling him to simply stop trying to cook.
This dilemma was the exact reason why Dan Heng had decided to sign up for private lessons with a professional chef, hoping to remedy his poor cooking skills once and for all.
Except… he hadn’t quite prepared for the professional chef he would be learning from to look like that.
Blade was a world-renowned chef who had worked in several Michelin-rated restaurants, authored two cookbooks, and currently served as a private chef for a rich philanthropist known as Elio, CEO of the Stellaron Hunters Inc. Before settling into his current role, Blade briefly starred on the ultra-famous reality cooking show Hell’s Kitchen but had reportedly been banned from the show after making one too many competitor chefs cry.
(Dan Heng privately thought that the chefs Blade yelled at deserved to be berated, though. What kind of professional chef didn’t know how to correctly temper a roux? Amateurs.)
Aside from all his culinary achievements, though, Blade was famous for another reason: being insanely hot.
Even Dan Heng, who normally didn’t care about whether someone was visually appealing, had to admit that he had a teensy, tiny celebrity crush on the man for his deep voice, cocky grin, and unfairly buff build.
Blade was such a high-profile figure in the culinary world that, if Dan Heng were a normal guy, he would have never been able to even come face-to-face with him. However, Dan Heng had happened to know a guy (Caelus, his former roommate) who happened to know another guy (Kafka, Blade’s PR manager) who had been able to call in a favor with Blade.
As soon as Dan Heng tilted his head upward to make direct eye contact with Blade, who was standing ominously on Dan Heng’s doorstep, though, he found himself wishing that he had simply sucked up his pride and signed up for cooking classes at the local community center; anything was better than having to grapple with these unnecessary feelings of attraction.
“Are you going to invite me in?”
Dan Heng startled himself out of his thoughts and opened the door to his apartment wider, embarrassed that he had been staring at Blade for who knows how long.
Once Blade had put his shoes away on the rack and been led into the kitchen, Dan Heng finally decided to break the awkward silence.
“Thanks for coming over,” Dan Heng said stiltedly, rubbing at his upper arm to ease his nerves. “It must’ve been an inconvenience.”
“Not really,” Blade replied, setting his bag of cookware and ingredients down on the pristine countertop of the kitchen island before immediately opening Dan Heng’s refrigerator. “You clearly need help.”
Despite knowing just how true that last statement was, Dan Heng bristled, offended by how casually Blade had basically called him an unskilled loser. So what if Dan Heng’s fridge was usually only stocked with bottles of unsweetened green tea and containers from his favorite vegetarian takeout place down the street? Not everyone was an acclaimed chef!
“Thanks for your expert opinion.” Dan Heng crossed his arms, frowning.
Blade glanced up from where he had been sorting the onions, raised an eyebrow — it was an unfairly attractive look on him — and hummed. “It doesn’t take an expert to see that you’ve been living like a college student with two cents in his bank account. How old are you, 20?”
“I’m 25,” Dan Heng shot back, feeling self-conscious since Blade had just turned 30 (according to his Wikipedia article — it wasn’t like Dan Heng had wanted to do extensive research on him or anything; he had just needed to know who exactly he was inviting to his home).
“25 and you still don’t know how to cook for yourself,” Blade hummed, turning away from the produce to give Dan Heng his full, undivided, and frankly intimidating attention. “Good thing Kafka called in a favor or else you’d be dead from too much sodium before your next birthday.”
Dan Heng was sorely tempted to argue back, maybe something along the lines of how he was a vegetarian, damn it, even his fast food was usually pretty healthy, except Blade chose that exact moment to roll his shirt sleeves above his elbows, and Dan Heng lost his entire train of thought in the face of those well-defined forearms.
What did a personal chef even need that much muscle for? Were cast iron skillets really that heavy?
“Let’s just start,” Dan Heng muttered, shuffling over to stand next to Blade. “What recipe were you planning to teach me?”
“Just a simple stir-fry.” Blade handed Dan Heng an opened container of firm tofu; Blade’s fingers were warm and calloused from where they brushed Dan Heng’s own. “I doubt even you could mess this up.”
Several bandages, a beeping smoke detector, and one ruined frying pan later, Blade and Dan Heng stared upon the burned monstrosity that was supposed to be their shared dinner.
“How the fuck did you manage to mess this up?” Blade scraped furiously at the coagulated mess of tofu, tomatoes, and onions from the bottom of the pan. “I leave you alone for five minutes so I could take a call, and I come back to this?”
“You were the one who came over to teach me! You shouldn’t have just left like that!” Dan Heng protested while rifling through his stack of takeout menus, desperately trying to ignore the humiliation burning behind his ears. He could just order from the tried-and-true noodle restaurant he always loved eating at, but he had just gotten delivery from them two days ago… He had been wanting to branch out and order from the build-your-own pizza place Caelus loved, but he also wasn’t in the mood for cheese… Maybe Dan Heng could bite the bullet and just order some quesadillas from Taco Bell…?
A firm hand on his shoulder pulled Dan Heng from his anxious spiral.
“Hey,” Blade said, uncharacteristically soft as Dan Heng turned around to face him. “What are you doing with those papers?”
“Finding a place to order from.” Dan Heng waved the stack around to emphasize his point. “Now that I’ve ruined dinner, I’ve got to find something else for us to eat.”
Blade furrowed his brows, and Dan Heng hated how handsome he still looked. “I’m not eating any of that shit you’ve got there.”
Dan Heng scoffed and rolled his eyes, valiantly ignoring how Blade had yet to remove his hand. “Just because you’re some fancy chef with fancy tastes, doesn’t mean the rest of us are. I’m fine with not eating Michelin-star restaurants, thanks.”
Snorting, Blade pried the stack of takeout menus from Dan Heng. “When was the last time you actually went to a sit-down restaurant?”
Dan Heng opened his mouth to reply, but quickly shut it when he realized he couldn’t remember.
Blade shook his head as if he had expected the silence and tossed the takeout menus into the recycle bin. “That’s it. I’m taking you out to dinner.”
Dan Heng stared. Stared again. Continued staring, then blinked, then rubbed his eyes just to be extra careful.
“Excuse me?”
Blade stepped back from Dan Heng — Dan Heng immediately missed the proximity — and put the ruined frying pan in the sink to soak. “I’m taking you out to dinner.”
“I heard you the first time.”
“Really? It didn’t seem like it.”
Dan Heng wasn’t sure if the heat in his cheeks was from an embarrassed blush or from the smoke still curling around the kitchen. “You’re such an asshole.”
“Yeah.” Blade shooed away Dan Heng before grabbing a towel and wiping down the countertops. “I’ll clean up the kitchen, and you get changed. We’re going out.”
“Aren’t you a chef?” Dan Heng eyed the menus sitting innocently amongst all the other recycling; he planned to rescue them once Blade and he came back from dinner. “Can’t you cook for us instead?”
Blade paused in his cleaning and swung the towel over his broad shoulders before advancing upon Dan Heng with slow, measured steps.
Stuck like a deer caught in headlights, Dan Heng stood stock still until Blade was close enough to smirk, lean down, and whisper in his ear, “I’ll cook for you the morning after.”
That night, and the morning after, Dan Heng did not learn how to cook.
(But… in the end, he didn’t really need to learn anymore.)