(no subject)
There You Go. || jiyong/seungri ||
Johnny Cash had always made Jiyong feel like drinking red wine and falling in love.
Seungri looked gorgeous, Jiyong thought. The boy’s head was bent over the cookbook he had on the counter, his lips mouthing the ingredients as his fingers scrolled down the page, his glasses had slipped to the edge of his nose and his hair was a mess; the result of a day off and no product. He looked beautiful and relaxed and Jiyong couldn’t help but laugh at the apron the boy had cinched tight around his waist. Gorgeous.
Jiyong fumbled around with the record player he’d set up in the kitchen and closed his eyes in content as the simple, catchy rat-tat-tat of a pretend-snare echoed through-out the house, followed by the distinctive rumble of Johnny Cash. Jiyong felt a tingle of excitement as the song began, his heart tapping along the beat. Johnny Cash had always made Jiyong want to drink red wine and fall in love. He adjusted the sound a notch higher, aware he’d probably get a nasty note from the neighbours because of it but not really caring either way.
He made his way toward Seungri and smiled as the boy swayed his hips lightly to the rhythm of the song, his apron clutching at his thighs with each turn. Absolutely gorgeous.
“You want a glass, sweetheart?” Jiyong asked with a smile as he shook the two wine glasses in his hand. “Promise I won’t tell.”
Seungri laughed and it was the prettiest thing in the room. Their schedule had been hectic recently and Jiyong had missed Seungri’s smile like he had missed own bed, like he was dying. He poured the alcohol with shaky hands and watched as it splashed from side-to-side in the tall glasses. Like blood, he laughed.
He handed a glass to Seungri and marvelled at the way Seungri’s skinny fingers curled around the glasses, pale as white and slender.
Seungri smiled as Jiyong watched him, a light blush dusting his cheeks. He loved having Jiyong’s eyes on him, it made him feel special, worthy, beautiful. “Let’s get this show on the road,” he said with a gentle grin at Jiyong.
------
“What do you suppose a loin of beef actually is? ‘Cause I wasn’t sure when I went shopping but I figured as long as we could slice it well enough it wouldn’t matter, right?
Jiyong read the recipe again. “Don’t really have a clue to be honest.”
Seungri laughed, taking another sip of wine as he went about slicing his side of meat into thin strips. “Like Taeyang’ll know what a loin is anyway.”
Jiyong’s fingers were oily and the tiny sesame seeds stuck like glue. He wiggled his fingers in Seungri’s direction as he sang along in English and tapped his foot the beat of the drum. Sesame seeds flew through the air like rice on a wedding day, and Seungri scowled at him while Jiyong laughed and laughed and laughed.
They marinated the beef, their fingers sliding against each other in the bowl and Jiyong’s body tensed as Seungri pressed closer, closer, closer, their arms twisted together and Seungri’s head angled under Jiyong’s chin. Seungri pouted his lips in concentration and Jiyong wondered vaguely what it would be like to screw Seungri against the countertop to the voice of the man in black. His own cheeks flushed a deep red and he nudged Seungri away with his shoulder. “I think it’s about done, Ri.”
Seungri rolled his eyes as he rinsed his fingers under the run of cool water. “Like you’d know anything about cooking, hyung.”
“Don’t be rude to your hyung, you’ll need him to look after you one day and he won’t be there if you treat him like.”
“I always need you to look after me, most of the time you just make fun of my clothes though. Instead of helping me.”
Jiyong was silent for a moment, watching as Seungri bent to collect the vegetables from the crisper in the fridge. “That’s not true.”
Seungri glanced up suddenly at the whisper of Jiyong’s voice. “Hyung? We were just joking around, hyung.”
“We shouldn’t joke about those things, Seungri. I’m your hyung and you should never think that I don’t...”
Seungri cut the other boy off as he pulled Jiyong into an embrace, his feet on tip-toe, a bunch of spinach and a head of garlic clutched in his hands, and his lips against Jiyong’s neck. “I know, Jiyong. I couldn’t have asked for a better hyung. I’m sorry for joking; I know you take good care of me.”
Jiyong rested his hands against Seungri’s waist, over the baby-blue apron and lowered his chin to Seungri’s shoulder. He rocked them slowly, his hips pushing against Seungri’s in a slow dance. “I’m being an idiot.”
Seungri pressed his lips against Jiyong’s neck and felt the other start. His lips pulled into a soft smile and he blew against the skin he’d just kissed. “We should probably finish this meal or Taeyang won’t have a birthday dinner to enjoy.”
------
Jiyong thought Seungri was a great cook. He though Seungri was a great everything mostly. But it never ceased to amaze him, however, how much of a mess the boy could make. He was up to his elbows in rice flower; the powder had coated everything on the bench and had been brushed against Seungri’s nose, cheek, chin.
He looked like a baker. Or a wife.
Jiyong smiled. “Hey baby, wanna be my wife?”
Seungri glanced up from where he had been kneading a knot of dough into the bench; he blinked at Jiyong once before lowering his gaze to the recipe on his left. “Sometimes I think you’ve gone mental and then you say something like that and I’m like, no, that’s just Jiyong.”
Jiyong laughed, the heel of his shoes rattling against the cupboard doors as he rinsed the flower petal decoration he had collected from a series of gardens on his way home that afternoon in a bowl of water, his pants covered in mess from where he sat on the bench.
“I think you’ll make a special man very happy when you get older. Your kimchi is to die for, not to mention your hips.”
“Or my sexual prowess.”
Seungri rinsed his hands on a tea-towel as he smiled at the older boy. “Now get your ass down here and help me roll this out.”
“You need my strong arms, is that it?”
“That’s most definitely it.”
Seungri’s body warmed as Jiyong stood behind him, his arms either side of his body. “Give me your hands,” Jiyong whispered into his ear, his voice a low murmur.
Their fingers tangled over the handles of the rolling pin and Seungri’s neck flushed as Jiyong pressed against him, guiding their arms into a steady roll, spreading the dough between the sheets of baking paper. Jiyong brought his cheek to rest against Seungri’s and hummed along slowly as another track picked up on the record. It was intimate and the smell of sesame oil was heavy in the air and Seungri struggled to even his breathing and stop himself for leaning against Jiyong’s body. He wanted to shake himself.
“Another guy gives you the eye, and there you go...”
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“What did you do, you idiot?” Seungri cried as Jiyong placed a batch of marinated beef onto the grill and the kitchen was filled with a sudden burst of smoke and sizzle.
“What you told me to do.”
Seungri held a hand to a heart and the other to his hip as he realized Jiyong hadn’t in fact burnt down the kitchen. “Good.”
------
The meal had been delicious. The meal had been perfect. The meal had been Taeyang stammering his thanks as the four of them toasted his birth, the meal had been Daesung and Seunghyun getting hammered and daring each other into taking hot sauce shots, the meal had been Seungri rushing around with glasses of milk for burning tongues, the meal had been Jiyong watching with a smile as his band, his family, enjoyed the meal he and his baby had prepared.
------
“The food’s delicious, Seungri,” Taeyang smiled as the two piled the dishes in the sink. “I thank you both so much.”
“It was no problem, hyung. It was good. To have a bit of break, to actually have the time to cook a nice dinner. I miss that, you know? I miss cooking and I miss eating,” Seungri laughed. “There are only so many instant-noodles a person can handle.”
“We’re lucky to have you, Seungri.”
“I’m lucky you think so.”
------
The meal had been Seungri holding his hand as they welcomed their three band-mates into the house, and had been his arm around Seungri’s shoulder as they bid them farewell hours later.
------
It was only the two of them and a kitchen-full of dishes left and Jiyong was warmer and happier than he’d been a while. Seungri was flushed with drink and leaning against Jiyong’s shoulder and Jiyong had reset his Johnny Cash album on repeat and everything seemed blurred and brilliant and perfect. Their day-off had ended, they had a five-am start tomorrow, and Jiyong was asking Seungri to dance and the boy wasn’t refusing.
They danced in ridiculous, off-beat circles around the living room and Jiyong’s fingers left prints on Seungri’s hips and Seungri listened to Jiyong’s heart through his shirt and the rat-tat-tat of a genius played long into the night.
They slept in different beds, they had different dreams, but their hearts beat to the same rhythm, as if they were falling in love to the same beat.