(no subject)
gratisfaction | pg-13 | 1350 | fem!tao/fem!sehun
for brittany, also kind of part of the drabble dump series, definitely more material to come later ahahaha kill me i don't want to talk about it
"You know you're not supposed to cut the meat like that, right." Oh Seoyoon, with her slightly-nasal, deadpan voice and expressionless face and completely flawless pink-black hair, is about the most critical damn cook anyone has ever seen. But at least she kind of a little bit knows how to cook, Yutao reminds herself with a little sigh. That's probably what the problem is with their partnership in this damn home economics class is, though -- Seoyoon never actually contributes unless it's to putting out the fire, something at which she's surprisingly good, and Yutao's the one that has to make up all the slack for Seoyoon's unwillingness to at least try and make a decent grade.
She is not failing another elective. Nope. Not this time.
"I know how to cut meat," Yutao replies after a few skipped beats, the sound coming out from between her gritted teeth in a little whoosh of air as he attempts (badly) to slice a slab of pork just so, trying to get it ready to be marinaded. She sucks in her bottom lip just to hear the loud clack of her lipring against her teeth, metal on enamel, sure to cause some sort of permanent damage. "Or, you know, maybe I don't, but at least I'm trying--"
Seoyoon rolls her eyes, and Yutao damn near drops her butcher's knife just out of sheer shock at seeing the younger's face actually do something. Thankfully, she manages to set the tool down carefully and without incident, take a deep breath and turn, as calmly as possible, to face Oh Seoyoon.
Except, crap, she's been too busy staring at their projects for the first three weeks of the semester to remember exactly why it is that doing this is probably wrong: Oh Seoyoon is fucking gorgeous. She has silver studs in her eyebrow that glint in the obnoxiously-bright classroom lights in a way that her face, her eyes never could, and dresses like a punk hipster wet dream with self-modded, paint-stained, authentic band tees from the 70s and jeans with matching military buttons lining the outside seams. (Where the hell does anyone even find that many matching buttons? Yutao's never going to understand. Nor is she going to understand how a person can actually want that many piercings in one eyebrow. ...It kinda looks cool. Maybe. A little.)
Yutao has been fool enough to abandon her current project, however, which causes Seoyoon to push right on past her and take up the cooking knife herself. She cuts against the grain, something Yutao wouldn't have thought to do, instead just cutting as she felt necessary to get the right sized pieces. Maybe Seoyoon actually does know a thing or two, and is trying to back Yutao up instead of give her all the answers? Maybe it's a conversation they should be having later, when one of them isn't at risk to chop one of their fingers off.
Yutao watches Seoyoon's bare fingers tighten and loosen against the handle of the knife, and heaves a deep sigh, toying idly with one of her rings, trying to bring herself some form of comfort. "There," Seoyoon announces finally, smacking her palms together in order to remove imaginary dust and actual pork fat before rushing over to the sink to rinse her hands with too much soap and too-hot water. "Next time, you do that, and we won't have to argue."
"I don't know," Yutao says softly, her voice rising about half an octave. "We might." Mostly because she likes being the bitchy one in this partnership and she's not about to let Seoyoon steal her thunder, but it's also entirely possible that she just wants to see the taller girl's face change just one more time. She'll never tell, just tuck her hands into the pockets of her thrifted bomber jacket, sway her hips as she wanders over to their burner where Seoyoon is absolutely sure to burn the onion, celery and garlic for their soup.
"You're about the bitchiest partner I've had to date," Seoyoon accuses even as she's glancing over her shoulder, chin tucked neatly into the hollow of it as she watches Yutao with skeptical eyes. "And that includes that...tiny girl, the one with all the boobs? Think she's your year, I'm not sure, but we were partners on a history project one time, and she's so anal-retentive about keeping all her notes organised, about who's getting work done..." The girl huffs, bottom lip jutting out, and her blunt-cut pink bangs float in midair. "Like, I told her... I'm no good at history. The only things I'm good at are basically this. Not cooking," and she arches one perfectly-manicured eyebrow at Yutao, who's frantically gesturing to Seoyoon that she needs to stir their vegetable mix; she does, but only in the nick of time, and the bitter smell of burnt garlic wafts between them. "Obviously not cooking, look at me, I barely just learned how to boil water without setting my parents' house on fire, but I mean... doing stuff with my hands."
Yutao sighs heavily, trying to recall whether or not she'd actually asked about any of this, irritated that they're going to get marks off their grade for this food today because Seoyoon thought it a good idea to suddenly turn into a chatterbox. It takes a few minutes, but realisation eventually dawns on the dark-haired girl, aggressive enough to get her reaching up and running her fingers through her short, wavy hair -- she doesn't actually mind the fact that Seoyoon is talking. In fact, the situation is quite comfortable, and perhaps she might involve herself, volunteer information--
Ah, but no, because their teacher is striding towards them, nose turned upwards in the air. "Ex-cuse me," she huffs out, eyes narrowing slightly as she puts her hand at her out-cocked hip. "But I don't believe burning your base ingredients is something that you can just gloss over. You'll have to start again, from scratch. Provided you've brought enough garlic to even do that."
Seoyoon and Yutao exchange glances, then shake their heads, slowly turning their eyes back to Ms. Kwon. "We don't, we're sorry," Yutao answers, sweet as she possibly can and hey, the throwing in the first hints of tears aren't entirely theatrics, but they definitely help. Seoyoon leans into Yutao, putting her hand at her shoulder and patting gently.
"It's okay, sweetheart," and her voice is kind of dark and husky and just above a whisper that Yutao supposes is meant to be taken as comforting, so she bites down on her lip, not even affording Ms. Kwon a second glance, and nods in Seoyoon's direction. "I'll take the points off, it's not your fault. You were the one trying to get me to pay attention, after all."
Ms. Kwon, clearly moved by this display of friendship, snorts at how fake the entire act is, and moves along to make the next pair, a gangly, awkward-looking boy with dumb ears and a tiny little girl with a cat-curled mouth and the biggest grin known to man.
"You think she'll make that guy cry like a bitch?" Yutao asks softly, lips barely moving, unable to want to bring attention to them. The guy is, apparently, attempting to fry something; the oil in his and his partner's pan pops loudly, almost splattering him in the face.
"Five bucks says it takes thirty seconds," Seoyoon responds, smirking, and they exchange secret low-fives, complete with wiggling fingers.
"I still hate you," Yutao amends as they watch on, Seoyoon's hand at the wooden spoon in their pot, cautious in keeping the burn from worsening. "But I really don't feel like wanting to kill someone."
"Same. Plus, you know, you're kinda cute." The compliment makes Yutao blush right up to the tips of her pierced-to-hell ears; she hates it when people she thinks are beautiful say nice things about her, makes her feel like she's not doing enough in the world to make a name for herself. "I promise I won't kill you this semester. If we end up in some bullshit math class, though, you better watch your back."
"Deal."
for brittany, also kind of part of the drabble dump series, definitely more material to come later ahahaha kill me i don't want to talk about it
"You know you're not supposed to cut the meat like that, right." Oh Seoyoon, with her slightly-nasal, deadpan voice and expressionless face and completely flawless pink-black hair, is about the most critical damn cook anyone has ever seen. But at least she kind of a little bit knows how to cook, Yutao reminds herself with a little sigh. That's probably what the problem is with their partnership in this damn home economics class is, though -- Seoyoon never actually contributes unless it's to putting out the fire, something at which she's surprisingly good, and Yutao's the one that has to make up all the slack for Seoyoon's unwillingness to at least try and make a decent grade.
She is not failing another elective. Nope. Not this time.
"I know how to cut meat," Yutao replies after a few skipped beats, the sound coming out from between her gritted teeth in a little whoosh of air as he attempts (badly) to slice a slab of pork just so, trying to get it ready to be marinaded. She sucks in her bottom lip just to hear the loud clack of her lipring against her teeth, metal on enamel, sure to cause some sort of permanent damage. "Or, you know, maybe I don't, but at least I'm trying--"
Seoyoon rolls her eyes, and Yutao damn near drops her butcher's knife just out of sheer shock at seeing the younger's face actually do something. Thankfully, she manages to set the tool down carefully and without incident, take a deep breath and turn, as calmly as possible, to face Oh Seoyoon.
Except, crap, she's been too busy staring at their projects for the first three weeks of the semester to remember exactly why it is that doing this is probably wrong: Oh Seoyoon is fucking gorgeous. She has silver studs in her eyebrow that glint in the obnoxiously-bright classroom lights in a way that her face, her eyes never could, and dresses like a punk hipster wet dream with self-modded, paint-stained, authentic band tees from the 70s and jeans with matching military buttons lining the outside seams. (Where the hell does anyone even find that many matching buttons? Yutao's never going to understand. Nor is she going to understand how a person can actually want that many piercings in one eyebrow. ...It kinda looks cool. Maybe. A little.)
Yutao has been fool enough to abandon her current project, however, which causes Seoyoon to push right on past her and take up the cooking knife herself. She cuts against the grain, something Yutao wouldn't have thought to do, instead just cutting as she felt necessary to get the right sized pieces. Maybe Seoyoon actually does know a thing or two, and is trying to back Yutao up instead of give her all the answers? Maybe it's a conversation they should be having later, when one of them isn't at risk to chop one of their fingers off.
Yutao watches Seoyoon's bare fingers tighten and loosen against the handle of the knife, and heaves a deep sigh, toying idly with one of her rings, trying to bring herself some form of comfort. "There," Seoyoon announces finally, smacking her palms together in order to remove imaginary dust and actual pork fat before rushing over to the sink to rinse her hands with too much soap and too-hot water. "Next time, you do that, and we won't have to argue."
"I don't know," Yutao says softly, her voice rising about half an octave. "We might." Mostly because she likes being the bitchy one in this partnership and she's not about to let Seoyoon steal her thunder, but it's also entirely possible that she just wants to see the taller girl's face change just one more time. She'll never tell, just tuck her hands into the pockets of her thrifted bomber jacket, sway her hips as she wanders over to their burner where Seoyoon is absolutely sure to burn the onion, celery and garlic for their soup.
"You're about the bitchiest partner I've had to date," Seoyoon accuses even as she's glancing over her shoulder, chin tucked neatly into the hollow of it as she watches Yutao with skeptical eyes. "And that includes that...tiny girl, the one with all the boobs? Think she's your year, I'm not sure, but we were partners on a history project one time, and she's so anal-retentive about keeping all her notes organised, about who's getting work done..." The girl huffs, bottom lip jutting out, and her blunt-cut pink bangs float in midair. "Like, I told her... I'm no good at history. The only things I'm good at are basically this. Not cooking," and she arches one perfectly-manicured eyebrow at Yutao, who's frantically gesturing to Seoyoon that she needs to stir their vegetable mix; she does, but only in the nick of time, and the bitter smell of burnt garlic wafts between them. "Obviously not cooking, look at me, I barely just learned how to boil water without setting my parents' house on fire, but I mean... doing stuff with my hands."
Yutao sighs heavily, trying to recall whether or not she'd actually asked about any of this, irritated that they're going to get marks off their grade for this food today because Seoyoon thought it a good idea to suddenly turn into a chatterbox. It takes a few minutes, but realisation eventually dawns on the dark-haired girl, aggressive enough to get her reaching up and running her fingers through her short, wavy hair -- she doesn't actually mind the fact that Seoyoon is talking. In fact, the situation is quite comfortable, and perhaps she might involve herself, volunteer information--
Ah, but no, because their teacher is striding towards them, nose turned upwards in the air. "Ex-cuse me," she huffs out, eyes narrowing slightly as she puts her hand at her out-cocked hip. "But I don't believe burning your base ingredients is something that you can just gloss over. You'll have to start again, from scratch. Provided you've brought enough garlic to even do that."
Seoyoon and Yutao exchange glances, then shake their heads, slowly turning their eyes back to Ms. Kwon. "We don't, we're sorry," Yutao answers, sweet as she possibly can and hey, the throwing in the first hints of tears aren't entirely theatrics, but they definitely help. Seoyoon leans into Yutao, putting her hand at her shoulder and patting gently.
"It's okay, sweetheart," and her voice is kind of dark and husky and just above a whisper that Yutao supposes is meant to be taken as comforting, so she bites down on her lip, not even affording Ms. Kwon a second glance, and nods in Seoyoon's direction. "I'll take the points off, it's not your fault. You were the one trying to get me to pay attention, after all."
Ms. Kwon, clearly moved by this display of friendship, snorts at how fake the entire act is, and moves along to make the next pair, a gangly, awkward-looking boy with dumb ears and a tiny little girl with a cat-curled mouth and the biggest grin known to man.
"You think she'll make that guy cry like a bitch?" Yutao asks softly, lips barely moving, unable to want to bring attention to them. The guy is, apparently, attempting to fry something; the oil in his and his partner's pan pops loudly, almost splattering him in the face.
"Five bucks says it takes thirty seconds," Seoyoon responds, smirking, and they exchange secret low-fives, complete with wiggling fingers.
"I still hate you," Yutao amends as they watch on, Seoyoon's hand at the wooden spoon in their pot, cautious in keeping the burn from worsening. "But I really don't feel like wanting to kill someone."
"Same. Plus, you know, you're kinda cute." The compliment makes Yutao blush right up to the tips of her pierced-to-hell ears; she hates it when people she thinks are beautiful say nice things about her, makes her feel like she's not doing enough in the world to make a name for herself. "I promise I won't kill you this semester. If we end up in some bullshit math class, though, you better watch your back."
"Deal."