Ship/Member: seokmin/soonyoung/jihoon Major Tags: N/A Additional Tags: love is holding someone’s hand and keeping them company, food as a love language, canon compliant, enlistment, alt: jihoon and his two idiots (fond) Permission to remix: yes! WC: 1.3k
a/n: hi op thank u for prompting i went to the source material and then it felt like i was flayed alive it was perfectly seoksoonhoon T__T i hope u enjoy. merry christmas!!
***
I knew in some ways I am loved beyond my imagining, in a way I have never thought about before. — Aubade, Yanyi
“You don't have to do this,” Jihoon says stiffly, scratching at the back of his neck, watching Soonyoung and Seokmin get set up in the bathroom.
Seokmin looks up from where Soonyoung has already taken out the razor with thinly veiled delight. “Yes, I do,” he says, all sincerity, like he couldn’t not fathom it.
Jihoon doesn’t have a response to that. Can’t. There’s a lump in his throat and a burning starting up in his eye. His heart squeezes, a gratitude too large to contain with words.
They sit in silence and watch Seokmin’s hair fall to the floor, dark tufts floating their way down, fluttering in mid-air, the buzzing of the razor briefly punctuated by Soonyoung’s oohing and aahing every time the machine doesn’t behave the way he expects. Which is often. Jihoon marvels at Soonyoung’s consistency — how he’s terrible with all devices, no matter the decade, Jihoon will never know.
“There,” Soonyoung says, self-satisfied, grinning at Seokmin in the mirror, who is very visibly anxious, twisting this way and that to inspect Soonyoung’s handiwork.
“It looks good,” Soonyoung reassures Seokmin, which of course achieved the opposite desired effect. Seokmin whirls around to look at Jihoon. He smiles despite himself.
“It looks good,” he promises softly. The answering beam he gets back from Seokmin in return nearly bowls him over.
By now, Jihoon should have gotten used to the earnestness in all the gestures that Seokmin carries. He doesn’t think he ever will. Maybe there’s a kind of poetry in that.
“My turn~” Seokmin sticks out his hand, his smile trespassing into mischievous territory. Soonyoung audibly gulps. Jihoon snickers.
Despite the teasing, Seokmin’s hands are gentle as they cradle Soonyoung’s head, turning it this way and that so he can carefully get every last bit of stubborn hair. Thank god they’d convinced their stylists to stop dying their hair by the time they were in their late twenties; the tufts that now rest on the bottom of their bathroom floor are strong and healthy.
It’ll grow back, Jihoon tells himself. They have time.
“There,” Seokmin leans back with a self-satisfied grin. Soonyoung squeals with glee, rubbing his now bald head with amazement, and immediately goes to put it on his Instagram Story.
There is significantly less hair on all of their heads than they started with. Jihoon is stuck between feeling horrified and incredibly fond — it’s always like that with these two.
“Now we match, hyung,” Seokmin grins, nudging Jihoon in the side with his elbow.
“We look like eggs,” Jihoon mutters, tugging on his ears.
“Organic or free range? White or brown?” Soonyoung asks, dropping his phone. He’s serious. Jihoon only knows because he’s spent practically his entire life with that idiot.
“No matter. I’d pick you up at the grocery store,” Seokmin intones solemnly. Soonyoung immediately brightens, grabbing the bit and running with it. Years and years of this have made him and Seokmin a well-oiled machine. They launch into their skit — an elderly couple who bicker like nobody else’s business at the supermarket, looking to buy eggs because somebody (Seokmin) forgot to buy them the last time they were at the store (just yesterday), which is why somebody else (Soonyoung) dragged them both here to make sure they get it this time. How else are they supposed to make their omelets?
It’s stupid and dumb and silly. Jihoon joins in immediately. He can be the carton of eggs they take home.
🍳
Soonyoung ends up packing him an enormous farewell box. It’s massive, bigger than the duffel he was planning on bringing. He and Seokmin end up struggling to carry it down the stairwell and to the car. Soonyoung had trailed slightly behind, offering directions that harmed nearly as much as they helped. They nearly behead someone coming up the stairs, much to Jihoon’s chagrin, Seokmin’s horror, and Soonyoung’s sheepish delight.
“They’ll make fun of me for this,” Jihoon warns him when they’ve finally loaded the stupid thing into the trunk. His muscles are slightly aching, which horrifies him. He’ll have to go to the gym more often while he’s there. “They’ll think my mom packed it for me or something.”
“So? Just say that your jagi got it for you,” Soonyoung declares. Jihoon makes a face of disgust on instinct. “You’re the first of the 96z to go to war,” he says dramatically, clasping his hands together. “I want you to be prepared. That’s why I got you this!”
“It’s not like you don’t know what to expect,” Jihoon tries. “Seungcheol and Jeonghan went last year. Seungcheol literally texted us every day about it.”
Soonyoung shakes his head, mouth stubborn. “But you’re different, Jihoon-ah. I wanted you to be extra extra prepared.”
Seokmin sighs exasperatedly and translates. “He put everything into the cart and I was the one who had to go through and veto things. He wanted to get you a handheld flamethrower.”
“Without me, who’s going to kill spiders for you? At least you’d have that to defend yourself with,” Soonyoung protests, sulking under his breath. “I still think Seokmin should’ve let me get it.”
“Thank you,” Jihoon laughs up at Seokmin, heart warmed.
He turns to Soonyoung, who is standing there eyes wide and hopeful. Jihoon pours his entire heart out into his fist. “Thank you,” he tells Soonyoung, reaching for his hand. Soonyoung doesn’t take it. Instead, he launches forward, wrangling Jihoon into a hug, peppering his face with a thousand wet, slobbery kisses.
“You’re gross,” Jihoon complains, pushing at Soonyoung’s face.
“I have to get in my Jihoonie time. You’re going to be gone for so long,” Soonyoung wails, which sparks something in Seokmin, as if just realizing it himself.
Suddenly, before Jihoon knows it, he’s being hugged and cuddled and squished to Seokmin’s and Soonyoung’s chests, cheek digging into their puffer jackets. In broad daylight, right in the middle of the street, where everyone can see.
He pretends to hate it the entire time.
🍳
“Hold on,” Seokmin grins, plopping Jihoon down at the counter. “Let’s have one last meal before you go. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, isn’t it?”
Seokmin winks, firing up the stove. “I have to feed you the most amazing delicious meal of your life so you’ll want to come back to us.”
Jihoon doesn’t know what to say. He hasn’t even had the food there yet, but nothing will ever come even close to the food Seokmin has cooked for him, or the jokes that Soonyoung tells, or the way that they have carved a space for him with so much love and care that sometimes Jihoon doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Doesn’t know how to give in return.
It’s been 15 years and counting. Jihoon will always want to come back to them.
“I have to come back here,” Jihoon says instead. “We just renewed our lease for another three years.”
For a moment, Jihoon wonders if he’s said the wrong thing. But Seokmin’s smile only grows broader in return. He knows. Jihoon thanks him, silently, for knowing.
“Here are the eggs!” Soonyoung crows, having seemingly materialized the carton from out of nowhere. Last time Jihoon checked (which was last night, he’d been up late looking for a late night snack) there hadn’t been any in the fridge. Which meant that Soonyoung had to have woken up early to grab them before all of this. Which makes Jihoon’s heart swell all that more.
He hops off the barstool and shuffles over to the stove, peering over at the pan.
There are three eggs frying, crackling on the hot skillet. Their eggshells sit further away, neatly tucked into the carton.
Seokmin presses a kiss gently to the top of Jihoon’s head, one hand cradling the back of hos neck, the other on the frying pan. Jihoon leans into it, enjoying the warmth.
“Here,” Seokmin smiles, transferring the eggs to a plate, alongside the sausages and hash browns Soonyoung had tossed into the air fryer (the only appliance he is allowed to touch in their kitchen). He slides it over to Jihoon. “Eat.”
Jihoon looks down. Sunny side up. Just the way he likes them.
[FILL] how do you like your eggs?
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: love is holding someone’s hand and keeping them company, food as a love language, canon compliant, enlistment, alt: jihoon and his two idiots (fond)
Permission to remix: yes!
WC: 1.3k
a/n: hi op thank u for prompting i went to the source material and then it felt like i was flayed alive it was perfectly seoksoonhoon T__T i hope u enjoy. merry christmas!!
***
I knew in some ways I am loved beyond my imagining, in a way I have never thought about before.
— Aubade, Yanyi
“You don't have to do this,” Jihoon says stiffly, scratching at the back of his neck, watching Soonyoung and Seokmin get set up in the bathroom.
Seokmin looks up from where Soonyoung has already taken out the razor with thinly veiled delight. “Yes, I do,” he says, all sincerity, like he couldn’t not fathom it.
Jihoon doesn’t have a response to that. Can’t. There’s a lump in his throat and a burning starting up in his eye. His heart squeezes, a gratitude too large to contain with words.
They sit in silence and watch Seokmin’s hair fall to the floor, dark tufts floating their way down, fluttering in mid-air, the buzzing of the razor briefly punctuated by Soonyoung’s oohing and aahing every time the machine doesn’t behave the way he expects. Which is often. Jihoon marvels at Soonyoung’s consistency — how he’s terrible with all devices, no matter the decade, Jihoon will never know.
“There,” Soonyoung says, self-satisfied, grinning at Seokmin in the mirror, who is very visibly anxious, twisting this way and that to inspect Soonyoung’s handiwork.
“It looks good,” Soonyoung reassures Seokmin, which of course achieved the opposite desired effect. Seokmin whirls around to look at Jihoon. He smiles despite himself.
“It looks good,” he promises softly. The answering beam he gets back from Seokmin in return nearly bowls him over.
By now, Jihoon should have gotten used to the earnestness in all the gestures that Seokmin carries. He doesn’t think he ever will. Maybe there’s a kind of poetry in that.
“My turn~” Seokmin sticks out his hand, his smile trespassing into mischievous territory. Soonyoung audibly gulps. Jihoon snickers.
Despite the teasing, Seokmin’s hands are gentle as they cradle Soonyoung’s head, turning it this way and that so he can carefully get every last bit of stubborn hair. Thank god they’d convinced their stylists to stop dying their hair by the time they were in their late twenties; the tufts that now rest on the bottom of their bathroom floor are strong and healthy.
It’ll grow back, Jihoon tells himself. They have time.
“There,” Seokmin leans back with a self-satisfied grin. Soonyoung squeals with glee, rubbing his now bald head with amazement, and immediately goes to put it on his Instagram Story.
There is significantly less hair on all of their heads than they started with. Jihoon is stuck between feeling horrified and incredibly fond — it’s always like that with these two.
“Now we match, hyung,” Seokmin grins, nudging Jihoon in the side with his elbow.
“We look like eggs,” Jihoon mutters, tugging on his ears.
“Organic or free range? White or brown?” Soonyoung asks, dropping his phone. He’s serious. Jihoon only knows because he’s spent practically his entire life with that idiot.
“No matter. I’d pick you up at the grocery store,” Seokmin intones solemnly. Soonyoung immediately brightens, grabbing the bit and running with it. Years and years of this have made him and Seokmin a well-oiled machine. They launch into their skit — an elderly couple who bicker like nobody else’s business at the supermarket, looking to buy eggs because somebody (Seokmin) forgot to buy them the last time they were at the store (just yesterday), which is why somebody else (Soonyoung) dragged them both here to make sure they get it this time. How else are they supposed to make their omelets?
It’s stupid and dumb and silly. Jihoon joins in immediately. He can be the carton of eggs they take home.
🍳
Soonyoung ends up packing him an enormous farewell box. It’s massive, bigger than the duffel he was planning on bringing. He and Seokmin end up struggling to carry it down the stairwell and to the car. Soonyoung had trailed slightly behind, offering directions that harmed nearly as much as they helped. They nearly behead someone coming up the stairs, much to Jihoon’s chagrin, Seokmin’s horror, and Soonyoung’s sheepish delight.
“They’ll make fun of me for this,” Jihoon warns him when they’ve finally loaded the stupid thing into the trunk. His muscles are slightly aching, which horrifies him. He’ll have to go to the gym more often while he’s there. “They’ll think my mom packed it for me or something.”
“So? Just say that your jagi got it for you,” Soonyoung declares. Jihoon makes a face of disgust on instinct. “You’re the first of the 96z to go to war,” he says dramatically, clasping his hands together. “I want you to be prepared. That’s why I got you this!”
“It’s not like you don’t know what to expect,” Jihoon tries. “Seungcheol and Jeonghan went last year. Seungcheol literally texted us every day about it.”
Soonyoung shakes his head, mouth stubborn. “But you’re different, Jihoon-ah. I wanted you to be extra extra prepared.”
Seokmin sighs exasperatedly and translates. “He put everything into the cart and I was the one who had to go through and veto things. He wanted to get you a handheld flamethrower.”
“Without me, who’s going to kill spiders for you? At least you’d have that to defend yourself with,” Soonyoung protests, sulking under his breath. “I still think Seokmin should’ve let me get it.”
“Thank you,” Jihoon laughs up at Seokmin, heart warmed.
He turns to Soonyoung, who is standing there eyes wide and hopeful. Jihoon pours his entire heart out into his fist. “Thank you,” he tells Soonyoung, reaching for his hand. Soonyoung doesn’t take it. Instead, he launches forward, wrangling Jihoon into a hug, peppering his face with a thousand wet, slobbery kisses.
“You’re gross,” Jihoon complains, pushing at Soonyoung’s face.
“I have to get in my Jihoonie time. You’re going to be gone for so long,” Soonyoung wails, which sparks something in Seokmin, as if just realizing it himself.
Suddenly, before Jihoon knows it, he’s being hugged and cuddled and squished to Seokmin’s and Soonyoung’s chests, cheek digging into their puffer jackets. In broad daylight, right in the middle of the street, where everyone can see.
He pretends to hate it the entire time.
🍳
“Hold on,” Seokmin grins, plopping Jihoon down at the counter. “Let’s have one last meal before you go. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, isn’t it?”
Seokmin winks, firing up the stove. “I have to feed you the most amazing delicious meal of your life so you’ll want to come back to us.”
Jihoon doesn’t know what to say. He hasn’t even had the food there yet, but nothing will ever come even close to the food Seokmin has cooked for him, or the jokes that Soonyoung tells, or the way that they have carved a space for him with so much love and care that sometimes Jihoon doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Doesn’t know how to give in return.
It’s been 15 years and counting. Jihoon will always want to come back to them.
“I have to come back here,” Jihoon says instead. “We just renewed our lease for another three years.”
For a moment, Jihoon wonders if he’s said the wrong thing. But Seokmin’s smile only grows broader in return. He knows. Jihoon thanks him, silently, for knowing.
“Here are the eggs!” Soonyoung crows, having seemingly materialized the carton from out of nowhere. Last time Jihoon checked (which was last night, he’d been up late looking for a late night snack) there hadn’t been any in the fridge. Which meant that Soonyoung had to have woken up early to grab them before all of this. Which makes Jihoon’s heart swell all that more.
He hops off the barstool and shuffles over to the stove, peering over at the pan.
There are three eggs frying, crackling on the hot skillet. Their eggshells sit further away, neatly tucked into the carton.
Seokmin presses a kiss gently to the top of Jihoon’s head, one hand cradling the back of hos neck, the other on the frying pan. Jihoon leans into it, enjoying the warmth.
“Here,” Seokmin smiles, transferring the eggs to a plate, alongside the sausages and hash browns Soonyoung had tossed into the air fryer (the only appliance he is allowed to touch in their kitchen). He slides it over to Jihoon. “Eat.”
Jihoon looks down. Sunny side up. Just the way he likes them.