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It’s Thursday. Yeosang has taken it upon himself to cook on Thursdays, since Yunho’s work shift ends later in the day.
There’s a recipe he found earlier in the week that he’s been wanting to try, so he’s set his mind to it tonight. He has the recipe open on his phone, and the ingredients amassed around him.
He slips one of their aprons over his head, then ties it around his waist. The next step is washing his hands.
Yeosang rinses the vegetables in the sink while the water’s still running. He shakes them lightly to get the excess water off, then sets them on the cutting board. Reaching for a nearby towel to dry his hands, he spots Yunho enter the kitchen out of the corner of his eye. He thought he’d be home much later, and is surprised he didn’t hear the door unlocking, but a flash of happiness runs through him all the same.
Yunho’s arms circle around his waist from behind and Yeosang can feel him take a deep breath against his back. When he exhales, he relaxes fully into the hug, setting his forehead on Yeosang’s shoulder and pressing him lightly into the countertop.
Yeosang leans back into the hug and sighs softly. He leans his head against Yunho’s and closes his eyes, mindlessly continuing to wring the towel around his hands.
“Hello,” Yunho whispers against his shoulder.
“Hi,” Yeosang whispers back.
“How was your day?” Yunho asks softly.
“Boring and uneventful. But it’s much more interesting now,” Yeosang says, hoping Yunho can hear him smiling. Yunho rubs comforting circles into his hips and waist. “How was yours?”
Yunho doesn’t answer, instead kissing Yeosang’s shoulder. Then he moves to trail gentle kisses up his neck. He kisses across his jaw up to his cheek, then presses one last lingering, sweet peck on Yeosang’s birthmark right next to his eye. Yeosang savors the delicate burning press of lips to his skin; relishing in the way he can feel each one seep into his veins and light up his senses.
“I missed you today,” Yunho says in a tender murmur against Yeosang’s ear, his warm breath sending shivers down Yeosang’s spine.
“I missed you too,” Yeosang breathes.
Yunho squeezes him lightly and perks up. “What are you making?”
“A chicken sauté,” Yeosang says, reaching to pick up his phone and show Yunho the recipe.
“That looks really good. Can I help?” He sways the two side to side.
Yeosang smiles. “I’d love to make it with you.”
Yunho scrolls through the recipe again, leaning over Yeosang’s shoulder. “I’ll work on the chicken. Sound good?”
Yeosang hums affirmatively, and Yunho lets go of his waist to wash his hands and get to work.
They work in tandem on either side of the kitchen. Yunho rubs seasoning into the chicken breast halves and Yeosang chops up the green onions methodically, trying to get them nice and even. Yunho moves on quickly to melting the butter in the skillet and sautéing the chicken.
They exchange a few words here and there, but they’ve never needed to talk much to enjoy being with each other.
Around the time Yunho is finishing up, Yeosang starts quartering the carrots.
His shaky hands get the better of him as Yunho walks over to check the recipe again and interrupts his focus. Yeosang just barely nicks the edge of his left pointer finger with the knife. He gives a small yelp of surprise and pain, setting the knife down on the counter and cupping his right hand under his finger to catch any spilling blood so it doesn’t get on the vegetables. At least, not more than it already has.
His yelp makes Yunho jump. “Oh! Are you okay?” He asks, turning to hold Yeosang lightly by the wrists and look at the cut.
“Yeah, that scared me more than anything,” Yeosang laughs off the shock of it.
Yunho jumps into action. He grabs a paper towel and hands it to Yeosang so he can hold it against the cut, then walks off to find their first aid kit in the closet in the hallway. He sets it on a clear space of the counter, opening the kit and searching for what he needs.
Yeosang is pinching the paper towel between his thumb and pointer finger and the blood has slowed down considerably. So he tries to reach out his uninjured hand to help, but Yunho pushes it away.
“Let me take care of it?” Yunho asks with the sweetest look in his eyes, and how could Yeosang say no?
He tries. “What about the chicken?”
“It’s done for now. I put it in the oven to keep it warm,” Yunho says, pointing at the oven. “Don’t worry. Nothing is being held up. See?”
Yeosang looks around. The chicken is in the oven, as promised, illuminated by the little yellow light inside. The skillet has been pulled off the burner it was on.
“Okay.”
Yunho pulls Yeosang’s hand by the wrist towards the sink. He turns the water on and waits for it to get warm before he puts Yeosang’s finger under it. With a little soap, he cleans the wound softly but thoroughly.
Yunho dries Yeosang’s hand using the edges of the paper towel that aren’t blood soaked, being very gentle around the open wound although it’s not bleeding much anymore. He gets out a bandage and dabs antibiotic cream on it before wrapping it around Yeosang’s finger with endearing concentration.
Yunho then kisses Yeosang’s now bandaged hand and smiles up at him as he does it, squeezing Yeosang’s heart more than he thought possible. It’s a deeply familiar comfort, bringing up tender memories of scraping his knees on the playground and his mom kissing his wounds after she had patched him up.
He helps Yunho with cleanup; Yunho rinses off the knife and gets out a clean one to replace it, and Yeosang disinfects the counter and separates the onions from the carrots. He decides to toss out the carrots on the cutting board and start anew.
Just as he’s getting out a clean board and reaching for the fridge to get fresh, non-bloody carrots, Yunho intercedes him.
“How about,” he takes the board from Yeosang’s hand and sets it on the counter, “we switch places?”
“That might be a good idea,” Yeosang laughs amicably, letting him take his place.
Yeosang busies himself with whisking together the flour and chicken broth in a small bowl to pour over the vegetables when they’ve been sautéed. He initially starts with his left arm, but pain pulses through his injury when he puts the wrong pressure on it, reminding him to be cautious. He switches to his right.
As soon as Yunho’s done quartering the carrots, he puts both the green onions and carrots in the skillet and brings it back over the burner.
After pouring the mixture over the vegetables, they let it simmer for a few minutes. Yunho hands off the skillet to Yeosang, who’s adding the sour cream and parsley to the vegetable mix, in order to retrieve the chicken breasts from the oven.
Yunho carefully lays the chicken back in the skillet and Yeosang uses a spatula to fold the vegetables and broth mixture over them. He’s mindful of his cut, using that hand to steady the pan rather than wield the spatula. When it’s finished simmering, Yunho turns off the heat and Yeosang pulls the skillet off the burner for good measure.
Together they serve themselves and find a seat next to each other at their coffee table. Yunho hesitates for a moment before sitting down.
“Do you want anything to drink?” He asks.
“Water, please.”
Yeosang watches his puppy of a husband happily play fetch for him. It makes him think of silly ways he can use his injury to get Yunho to do his bidding for a while.
When Yunho returns, he steals a kiss from Yeosang’s lips before placing his glass down.
They talk more deeply about what happened during their days in between bites. The food is delicious despite the mishap that occurred while making it, but nothing quite compares to Yunho’s kiss, in Yeosang’s opinion.