When Sparks Fly

Sparks Beneath the Surface

The department's cooking challenge idea had been greenlit, and Jeonghan and Seungcheol were tasked with running a test run for the event. This meant gathering ingredients, setting up a kitchen space, and—worst of all—working side by side for hours.

Jeonghan showed up to the office that morning with his sleeves rolled up, a suspiciously amused look on his face. "Ready to unleash your inner chef?" he asked as he approached Seungcheol's desk.

Seungcheol looked up from his laptop, unimpressed. "This isn't about being a chef. It's about teamwork and leadership."

Jeonghan leaned on the edge of the desk, smirking. "Oh, so you're already planning to lead? Bold of you to assume you won't be the weak link."

Seungcheol's eyebrow twitched. "I'm not rising to that."

"Sure you're not," Jeonghan teased, straightening up. "Let's see if you can hold onto that composure once we're knee-deep in flour."

The test run was held in a large, industrial kitchen space that looked like it had been borrowed from a cooking show. Gleaming counters, shiny utensils, and an array of ingredients were laid out in perfect order.

Jeonghan took one look at the setup and immediately clapped his hands. "Ah, my kingdom awaits. I'll be the head chef, and you can be my trusty sous chef."

Seungcheol, who was rolling up his sleeves, gave him a flat look. "That's not how this works. We're supposed to work together."

"Exactly," Jeonghan replied. "Together, but with me in charge."

"Keep dreaming," Seungcheol muttered, grabbing an apron.

The recipe they'd been assigned was deceptively simple: a three-course meal featuring a pasta dish as the centerpiece. Jeonghan took one look at the instructions and immediately started improvising.

"This says to dice the onions," Seungcheol pointed out, watching as Jeonghan cut the onions into uneven chunks.

"I'm adding character," Jeonghan said breezily.

"It's a kitchen, not an art exhibit."

"Tell that to my onions."

Seungcheol sighed, grabbing another knife and demonstrating a proper dice. "Like this. Uniform pieces cook evenly."

Jeonghan leaned closer, peering at the onions. "Wow, look at you, Mr. Perfectionist. Do you practice this at home?"

"Some of us cook to survive," Seungcheol replied without looking up.

Jeonghan smirked. "And some of us survive without cooking. It's called charm."

As the test run continued, the chaos escalated. Jeonghan had a habit of "tasting" the ingredients mid-prep, which drove Seungcheol up the wall.

"Stop eating the cheese," Seungcheol said for the third time, snatching the block away from Jeonghan.

"I'm testing for quality!" Jeonghan protested, reaching for another piece.

"You're going to ruin the proportions."

Jeonghan winked. "I'm enhancing the experience."

Seungcheol glared but didn't stop him. Mingyu, who had come to observe, was practically doubled over with laughter from the sidelines.

"You two are unbelievable," Mingyu said, snapping pictures of their bickering.

Jeonghan struck a pose with a whisk, grinning. "Unbelievably talented, you mean."

Seungcheol muttered under his breath as he stirred the sauce. "Unbelievably something, that's for sure."

Despite the chaos, their meal somehow came together. The pasta was cooked perfectly, the sauce rich and flavorful, and the dessert—a simple fruit tart—looked like it belonged in a magazine.

Jeonghan stepped back to admire their handiwork, wiping his hands on his apron. "See? I told you we'd make a great team."

Seungcheol crossed his arms, his lips twitching like he was fighting a smile. "We got lucky."

"Luck?" Jeonghan placed a hand on his chest, mock-offended. "You mean skill."

"Sure," Seungcheol said, but his tone was softer than usual.

They sat down to taste the fruits of their labor, and for the first time all day, there was a moment of calm.

"This is actually good," Jeonghan admitted, twirling his fork in the pasta.

Seungcheol smirked. "Surprised?"

"A little," Jeonghan said with a playful grin. "I didn't think you had it in you."

Seungcheol chuckled softly. "You're impossible."

Jeonghan tilted his head, studying him. "And yet, here we are. Working together like pros."

"Don't get used to it," Seungcheol replied, but the warmth in his voice betrayed him.

As they cleaned up, the tension between them felt different—less combative, more charged.

"Not bad for a first test run," Seungcheol said, drying a dish.

Jeonghan leaned against the counter, watching him. "You know, you're almost tolerable when you're not scowling."

Seungcheol glanced at him, his expression unreadable. "And you're almost bearable when you're not talking."

Jeonghan laughed, the sound light and genuine. "Touché."

Mingyu popped his head into the kitchen, grinning. "Hey, I got pictures of you two actually working together. Should I frame them?"

Jeonghan waved him off. "Please. I'm already immortalized in Seungcheol's memories. He'll never forget this day."

Seungcheol rolled his eyes but didn't argue. Instead, he grabbed the last dish and set it aside, his movements uncharacteristically relaxed.

As they finished up, Jeonghan turned to him with a sly smile. "Same time tomorrow?"

Seungcheol hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Fine. But no more stealing cheese."

Jeonghan laughed again, throwing his arm around Seungcheol's shoulders as they walked out. The sparks beneath the surface were undeniable now, and neither of them could quite ignore the way their banter had shifted into something far more dangerous—and far more exciting.