Good Tidings
Authour: freelancejouster
Retreived from: Ao3
Words: 2241
Ship: Jimin×Hoseok
Summary:
Jimin makes something without using a recipe and Hoseok is alarmed.
--
"What is it that you're making again?" asked Hoseok, legs swinging from his spot on the counter.
"Dutch babies," Jimin answered distractedly, chopping at a stick of butter seemingly at random and then plunking it into one of the pie tins he'd borrowed from their neighbor, Seokjin.
"And you're sure you don't need to measure?" asked Hoseok.
"I'm sure." He chopped off another chunk and set it in the other pie tin, where he started to chop it into smaller pieces. His hair was falling in his eyes and he looked soft — still wearing the oversized tee shirt he'd worn to sleep that fell off his shoulder and hung half way down his thighs and the pair of sweatpants he'd pulled on as he'd slid, determined, out of bed that morning.
It was a little bizarre, admittedly, to see Jimin like this in the kitchen — not in the sleep clothes, that was pretty standard — but, without a recipe and sure of himself. It was Hoseok who had done most of the cooking in the six months or so that they'd lived together now — cohabiting a cheap little apartment, just off campus made of cheap wood and old pipes and leak in the roof somewhere. (Yoongi liked to joke that it was held together with duct tape and sheer force of will. Hoseok mostly just tried not to think about it.)
Sure, Jimin cooked sometimes when Hoseok was running late from the dance building, but that was just ramen with leftovers thrown in or another easy pasta dish. Chicken like twice. Nothing that required a recipe or too much thought or finesse. The preparation of food wasn't something he usually cared about, not something he felt the need to practice to perfection and at cost to himself, like he did so often with other things.
This, however. This seemed ... different. Or, at least like it required a recipe.
But Jimin had pulled down the ingredients a few minutes ago like it had been second nature — pulling out the tins and a mixing bowl, flour from the cabinet, eggs and butter and milk from the fridge. Hell, when he'd glanced out the window this morning and seen the first little flurries, an odd, nostalgic look had passed over his face, still a little pillow-creased, and he'd rattled off a request for Hoseok to preheat the oven without consulting anything, either.
Hoseok had laughed for a moment, before realizing he was serious and padding, the floor cold beneath his feet, into the kitchen to do as he'd been asked.
He watched as his boyfriend worked, cracking egg after egg into the bowl, putting the pie tins into the oven.
"You're cute," Hoseok found himself saying without really thinking too much about it. It happened sometimes. And as always, even after months of knowing each other and living together, Jimin smiled shyly, ducked his head a little, mumbled his thank you. And that was definitely morecute and Hoseok considered opening his mouth back up to say so.
It could probably lead to an endless cycle, now that he thought about it, but Jimin was standing back up from the oven, back into whatever odd sequence of actions he was involved in.
"I've never seen you do this before," Hoseok said instead, pulling a knee to his chest, resting his heel on the edge of the counter beneath him, chunky Christmas sock covering his foot. "It's a little ..."
