Work Text:
The smell is the first thing that hits him. Before Jung-bae has even stepped foot inside the apartment, it washes over him through the front door like a tangible wave of stink, threatening to throw him off balance simply from how rank it smells. After a long day at work, this nauseating greeting isn't quite what he had hoped for.
His nose scrunches on instinct as he reluctantly enters his home, closing the door behind him and wondering to himself if he had somehow forgotten to take out the trash. Last month’s trash, by the smell of it..
His train of thought is broken by a suspicious clattering from the kitchen, which he decides to follow after kicking his shoes off, despite noting with mounting terror that the smell seems to be getting worse the closer he gets.
Peering into the small kitchen with a considerable amount of trepidation, he is greeted instead by a surprisingly welcome sight. No smelly intruders or forgotten piles of garbage bags, but Dae-ho, dressed in an apron and darting around the small room like a pinball, rummaging through the fridge one second and stirring a pot on the stove the next, like he can't make up his mind on where to be so he ends up everywhere all at once.
From the state of the kitchen—the dirty pots and pans and bowls piling high, kitchen utensils strewn around on every available surface—he figures Dae-ho must have made himself pretty busy while he was away, because it hadn't looked like this just this morning when Jung-bae had left for work, and he is already dreading the moment they will have to clean it all up.
Even with all the racket he is making, Dae-ho seems to possess a sixth sense for knowing when Jung-bae is near, because suddenly his head whips around at lightning speed, his mouth falling open in a little ‘o’ as he spots Jung-bae in the doorframe.
In an instant, he is on top of him; the older man is given no time to react as Dae-ho pounces on him like a tiger, draping his strong arms over his shoulders in a tight hug and pulling his face into the crook of his neck in a way that makes breathing a struggle.
Even with his airflow cut, it’s amazing how quickly he feels the worries of his workday draining away, like Dae-ho is siphoning everything negative from his body with this simple embrace. Jung-bae laughs happily, hugs him back and presses him even closer.
“Welcome back” Dae-ho murmurs right by his ear, before pulling back just enough to plant a kiss on his mouth, which Jung-bae eagerly accepts. He relishes the soft press of Dae-ho’s full lips against his own as his hand finds the other man’s face instinctively, cups a soft cheek and knows just from the heat against his palm that his face is probably a beautiful shade of pink right now.
Like this, standing close together in their shared kitchen while Dae-ho makes an honest attempt to kiss his breath away, Jung-bae wonders for a moment just when his life had turned into a cheesy romance movie. Not that he minds.
It’s a long time before they finally manage to bring themselves to pull away, but when they do, arms still lazily slung around one another, Dae-ho begins making inquiries about his workday and Jung-bae suppresses a chuckle at the realization that all those times he had jokingly called him a doting housewife were really not unwarranted. If anyone else ever got the chance to see this sight—Dae-ho in a pink apron that Jung-bae didn’t even know they owned, his long hair tied up into a ponytail with a few loose strands framing his face adorably, greeting him with kisses and asking about his day—they would surely congratulate them both on their marriage.
It's a sight he himself has yet to grow used to; it had taken them a good while and a whole lot of work to get Dae-ho comfortable enough to be more open about his soft nature like this, after years of having to suppress it in fear of rejection and abuse. Naturally, this is a welcome sight, the kind of thing that makes his heart all sappy and warm and his dick hard. In fact, Jung-bae is scarcely managing to hold himself back from leaning in for another taste of those full, smiling lips, when a sound alerts him—something bubbling ominously in a pot on the stove.
His attention successfully stolen, he peers cautiously over Dae-ho’s shoulder, who notices and happily chimes, “I’m cooking us dinner” while leading Jung-bae to the stove by the hand. “Stew” He adds as he lifts the lid with a satisfied ‘ta-da’.
It’s ridiculous how hard the reveal makes Jung-bae wince, his eyes instantly watering as that damned odor hits him tenfold like a punch in the face. It smells like it’s made out of farts.. Sour fart soup. Whatever that might be. “Wow, Dae-ho..! That’s..” He cuts his sentence short, because he really doesn’t know what he could say that wouldn't make him sound as jarred as he is.
At his side, Dae-ho has fallen back to his hazardous cooking style, chopping an onion directly in his hand, presumably since the cutting board is already loaded with numerous other kinds of veggies and raw meats, their juices forming a sizable puddle on the counter and threatening to drip onto the floor.
On cue, the pot of goop— stew, Jung-bae corrects himself—decides that this is the perfect time to bubble over, and the liquid sizzles as it trickles over the edge of the pot and hits the hot stovetop.
“Shit, shit” Dae-ho splutters while frantically looking around for a solution, a handful of chopped onion in one hand and a knife in the other. It's a miracle he didn't burn the kitchen to the ground while Jung-bae was at work, the older man thinks to himself as he hurriedly lifts the pot off the stove and lowers the heat.
“Hey now, quit waving that knife around or you’ll stab me” Jung-bae huffs, only half joking, and successfully nabs the knife from Dae-ho before one of them ends up in the hospital. “You know damn well we can’t afford a visit to the doctor”
“Right, right” Dae-ho laughs cheerfully, all lighthearted and unbothered, as though he isn't currently standing in a puddle of his stew, thanking Jung-bae before dropping his handful of badly chopped onion into the pot, bits of peel and all. “You know, it’s surprisingly hard to do all this at the same time!”
“Don’t cook on the highest heat, for starters..” Jung-bae mumbles silently to himself as he gets to take a closer look at this thing Dae-ho has been cooking up. Holding his breath, he blinks, stupified. Suddenly he feels very grateful that he had been told beforehand what it was, because otherwise he would have no idea what he was looking at.
The color brings to mind the image of a cartoon zombie, and he could bet money that his face is turning the same exact shade of green as he watches the chunks and bits of debris bob around in the broth–debris being the only word he can find to describe it, since he can’t even begin to tell what it is. “Is it supposed to be green..?”
Dae-ho sheepishly scratches the back of his neck with a small chuckle. “Well, the recipe seemed easy enough so I kinda went with my own thing. Mixed in some of that broccoli that was starting to go bad” That explains the fart smell..
Suddenly Dae-ho’s eyes are locked on him, wide and glittering with eagerness, his hands clasped together in a very womanly manner. “Wanna try it?”
Jung-bae blinks. This is a crucial moment. Dae-ho is being vulnerable, showing off sides of him that he has previously kept suppressed and hidden out of fear of judgement. He has to act accordingly. “Of..course” If Dae-ho takes note of the shakiness in his voice, he doesn’t comment on it.
Before he can back out, there’s a spoon in his hand, heaping full of Dae-ho’s not-quite-edible-looking concoction, and he swallows down his nerves with an audible gulp. Jung-bae wouldn’t consider himself a picky guy when it comes to food, not by any means, but.. Ah, is that a toenail or is he just imagining things?
Steeling himself, he brings it to his lips, and then, reluctant and slow, dips the very tip of his tongue in it. It can't possibly taste worse than it looks, right? Wrong. The goop tastes every bit as atrocious as it smells, sour and spicy and too salty, all at the same time. Every fiber of his being fights the urge to make a grimace of disgust so as to not hurt Dae-ho's feelings.
“Oh! It’s– whew! What’d you season this with?” He declares loudly in the most cheerful tone he can manage, a strained smile pulling at his lips—anything to make his questioning sound more positive. In reality he is trying to find out if he had just put his life at risk by trying his evil potion.
“A little bit of everything” Dae-ho informs him casually, while rummaging through the cupboards for a bowl.
Jung-bae coughs to clear his throat from the sour aftertaste. A little bit of everything, huh? Somehow, he doesn't doubt that for a second. “…Cinnamon?”
In response he is shot with a narrow eyed look that very much says, are you questioning my culinary skills? “I didn't check the label on everything, alright? I just added whatever smelled good” If Jung-bae wasn’t dirt poor he would be seriously suspecting this to be a scheme to poison him and steal his wealth.
Just then, Dae-ho notices the still very full spoon in his hand and points an accusing finger at it. “ Hey, you didn't even try it!”
This time, Jung-bae is seriously considering just outright refusing, but then Dae-ho is looking at him with a look of disappointment, the corners of his lips painting down in an unhappy pout, and the spoon finds its way into his mouth in an instant. Anything but the puppy eyes.
And just as quickly, he is washed over by a full body sense of regret as his taste buds are immediately overwhelmed with the most grotesque combination of flavors he had ever had the misfortune of experiencing. It is gritty and slimy at the same time, feels corrosive on his tongue, like it is causing genuine harm to his insides. He scarcely holds back from gagging, and somehow pushes through and forces himself to chew, all the while repeating his mantra of ‘ there's nothing a marine can’t do’ in his head.
However, he quickly finds that chewing isn’t necessary to begin with—the bits of matter have been overcooked to oblivion, to the point that the mouthful of stew is practically pre-chewed for him. At least until something crunches unexpectedly between his teeth.
Jung-bae wavers for a moment, then lifts a shaky hand to his lips and sticks his fingers into his mouth. With sweat beading at his forehead, he stares at the small piece of eggshell pinched between his fingers.
He is starting to feel a bit lightheaded. “There's.. eggs in this?”
“A few, yeah. I added them to make it thicker, but I don't know if it worked” Comes the dreaded response, as Dae-ho pours a ladle full of the slop into a bowl.
Jung-bae feels his stomach churn, covers his mouth silently and breathes slow and deep from his nose. He has had his fair share of struggle meals, but this seems to be testing his limits. Is this how he dies?
Dae-ho doesn’t give him a second to recuperate. “Also, we’re out of ketchup” He mumbles around the spoon in his mouth. “I couldn't find the tomato sauce so I had to improvise”
“Right..” Responds Jung-bae numbly, fully disconnected at this point— to preserve his sanity. Not so discreetly, he digs his hand around in his pocket in search of his phone, already pondering what takeout he should order for them. Some fried chicken sounds good right about now.