Chapter Text
“We did things that we never would have thought to do if not for love. What changes the world is love.”
Na Jung, Reply 1994
August 2012
“All right, whose turn is it for dishes?”
From the common room, silence. Almost silence. He hears the tinsely jingle of Mario Cart and a muffled giggle.
Seokjin continues to chop the onions, pausing for a moment to wipe his nose with the back of his hand. He could threaten to stop cooking for them, but they'd see that for the dirty lie that it is. He loves cooking almost as much as he loves eating, and sometimes his love for eating scares him.
Cooking seems an even rarer pleasure since their days are packed end-to-end with dance practice, rehearsals, and lessons. So he sits cross-legged on the floor, dicing carrots, slicing onions, and dreaming of a larger kitchen.
Whispers rustle from the common room, followed by a smack and a groan of pain.
“Yah,” Seokjin calls. “Who's night for clean up?”
“Yoongi's,” someone answers. Possibly Jungkook, though it could have been Taehyung. Anyway, they're lying. It was Yoongi's turn on Friday.
As if conjured by the sound of his name, Yoongi shambles into the kitchen, scrubbing a hand through his hair.
“What do they want?” he grumbles.
“They said it's your dish night.”
Yoongi opens the refrigerator. Closes it. Coughs. “Who did?”
“Maybe Taehyung?” Seokjin says.
Yoongi grunts and disappears around the corner. Seconds later, the common room fills with shouts and laughter as the maknaes scramble out of Yoongi's path. Maybe two minutes later, Yoongi returns, wearing a pleased smirk on his sleep-creased face.
“It's Jimin's turn,” he says.
“Ah, Jimin,” Seokjin says. He plunks the carrots into a bowl and pulls himself up to the stove.
“Tell them you won't cook for them,” Yoongi suggests.
“Yeah,” Seokjin laughs. “Right.” He douses a skillet with oil and sets the burner aflame.
Yoongi opens the fridge, drinks straight from the carton of orange juice, and replaces it on his shelf. He says, “You're the hyung, hyung. Make them obey you.”
Seokjin scrapes the onions into the hot oil and wrinkles his nose. “I'm your hyung, too. You make them obey.”
Yoongi's head bobs, once. “Sounds fair.”
“Yeah?” Seokjin feels like this is far too easy. He's struggled with balancing kitchen duties and the rest of their activities since the day, when gathered around some table playing some team-building game, Seokjin revealed that he likes cooking. Seokjin instituted the rotating dish night policy when cooking and cleaning for seven people took a lot longer than he initially bargained for. So far, only Hoseok, Yoongi, and Namjoon consistently take their turns.
But Yoongi looks serious, and the maknaes do kinda fear him. Except for Taehyung who doesn't seem to fear anyone.
“Sure,” Yoongi says. Again, the single head bob. “It's a deal.”