tender (crisp) love (for london9calling)

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For: london9calling
From: lumosflowers

Title: tender (crisp) love
Rating: PG
Side Pairing/s: Kris/Tao, Baekhyun/Xiumin
Length: 7262 words
Summary: Junmyeon has never been one to cry over spilt milk but he’s tempted to make an exception.
Warnings: swearing
Notes: this was a journey!! dear prompter i found your prompts a bit challenging but i tried my hardest! i wish i could have put more time into it, but i hope you like how this turned out anyway. thank you R for all your help with the references and for supporting me along the way <3

Junmyeon would consider himself a people person. He would also consider himself very unlucky. The good thing about this matchup is that he’s got the skills required to talk himself out of a sticky situation with a smile. The bad thing, however, is that if he wasn’t so unlucky there wouldn’t be a need to talk himself out of situations in the first place. He gets fired from his old job at the fruit market in late September because, like many things in life, fruit is seasonal and so is a need to have a bright, affluent person like Junmyeon bagging apples and chatting up old women each weekend morning. This is what they tell him when they fire him, sending him home with a complimentary bag of strawberries for his pain, as well as the numbers of a few of the grandmothers who insist they ring him if he ever need a home cooked meal. It isn’t so bad, eating strawberries and browsing through employment ads from his tiny kitchen table and catching up on television. He’s on break and there’s nothing to get down about. He’ll try harder. He’ll be better. He’ll take his time and find a job that won’t toss him out end of season like a mouldy fruit. That is, until the bills start coming in and his savings start dwindling and fridge breaks. He doesn’t notice the silence at first, the way the constant whirring suddenly disappears. He’s too busy catching up on Naruto to notice anything until he goes for a drink of juice and the smell hits him and he nearly heaves his stomach into the sink. (“What the fuck, hyung,” Sehun says when he drops by to help out with it, covering his nose and grimacing at a nondescript packet of… something. “This went off in January.”). Living off instant noodles, he mass produces handfuls of resumes and sends them to several places but hears nothing back. Considers sending them again with chocolates bought with the dregs of his savings for the sake of persuasion because he’s desperate, but ultimately it’s Zitao who saves his ass. Normally he’d be hesitant to take Zitao’s help with something like this because, well, despite being good friends, Zitao is an avid food and fashion blogger with highly questionable taste. Junmyeon isn’t certain he can stomach what his friend might dish up, but he’s unlucky and desperate so he’ll take whatever help he can get. “Do you like green eggs and ham?” Zitao asks him over drinks at a coffee shop on campus, his hair a bright blue. “I do not like them,” he answers honestly, watching as Zitao deflates. “I do not like green eggs and ham.” Zitao, looking crestfallen, scratches something off his napkin list. As it turns out, Zitao really only had two options on his extensive napkin list of places. The second, Zitao assures him, does not serve green eggs and ham. “Think more abstract,” his friend says instead. “More… more exciting. It’s great and I have an in, don’t worry. You’ll love it. It’s perfect for you.” —☆— Contrary to whatever Zitao thinks, Junmyeon does not immediately love it. Star Wars is his favourite movie series, but he doesn’t get this new space aesthetic. He doesn’t understand the rainbow filtered galaxy wallpapers, nor does he understand the Shrek imitation alien headpieces he sees a waiter wearing as they stroll past, carrying trays loaded with burgers and fries and colourful drinks. There are glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling and an old style jukebox in the corner playing some 80s hit, and a pair of eyes watching him from the kitchen service window. He doesn’t know how Zitao confused his request of “somewhere nice, calm, and close to home” with “esoteric 50s space diner”. Zitao’s “in” really isn’t so much of an in as it is his boyfriend, Yifan, who is cold and strange and the owner of the Mars Bar, home to the Galaxy Burger™, the biggest, baddest burger this side of the Milky Way. Yifan greets him with a “yo” and a bro-hug even though they’ve met a total of twice now, including once at Zitao’s birthday, when a very drunk and very vocal Yifan manhandled him outside and spoke about stars for a solid hour. In retrospect, Junmyeon really should have seen this space diner thing coming. The interview is smooth and comfortable, and Junmyeon makes an effort to pull on his most charming smile as he sits in Yifan’s supply closet of an office, dwarfed by a large bean bag. He doesn’t have the heart to tell Yifan that this, alongside the lava lamp in the corner, is more a 70s thing than 50s aesthetic he was going for, especially with an employment position on the line. So he sits there and smiles. Nods at the lava lamp in the corner and says, “That’s cool,” and watches as Yifan preens. “I’m a cool boss,” he tells Junmyeon in reply. It’s not a valid excuse for all the weird shit he’s got stashed in here, but Junmyeon has a shelf of collectable Gundam and the collections upon collections of manga, so it’s not like he can talk. To each their own. “Actually, don’t think of me as a boss, but as a friend,” Yifan continues, “We’re bros now, Junmyeon. Mi casa, su casa.” Yifan skips the questions and preamble because he trusts Zitao and because Junmyeon, even after a drunk conversation about the solar system, seems like a pretty upstanding guy. He’d prepared honest answers and personal, ambitious responses that would have impressed but not threatened his future bosses. He had even been ready to knowledge drop about India if he had to, but none of that matters to Yifan because ‘Bros’, apparently, is equivalent to ‘you’re hired’. Taken aback, Junmyeon’s smile wavers in confusion, “That’s it? You don’t have any questions you want to ask me?” “Nah. You’re cool,” Yifan states, nodding to himself before he stops suddenly. “Wait, actually, there is something,” he says, and Junmyeon straightens and readies himself to give an answer that he can really impress with. Something that can show Yifan that this isn’t just some other job that he doesn’t care about. That even though he’d only heard about this place properly an hour ago, he’s ready to give it his all, to really dedicate his life to watch this place succeed, to bleed for it— “How do you feel about Space Jam?” Junmyeon blinks once, twice, then withers slightly, “It’s…it’s a good movie.” Yifan grins, “Right? Space and basketball. A true classic.” He mimes shooting a hoop with his hands, and Junmyeon can only sit and stare and wonder what he’s gotten himself into. —☆— He tells Junmyeon to drop in on Monday when it’s not so busy so they can show him the ropes and so he has enough time to order another headpiece because, for some reason, the staff keep losing theirs and Yifan, for the life of him, can’t seem to understand why. He’s following Yifan out of his tiny office, elated at having found work and at the chance to finally earn enough to fix his fridge, when his knack for bad luck catches up with him. Or, more specifically, hits him in the face. It would have gone down differently, he thinks, if he’d refused the room temperature cola Yifan had offered him and cut their conversation about Looney Toons ten seconds shorter. If he hadn’t pitched in his opinion on Bugs Bunny’s slam dunk, he wouldn’t currently be spluttering through a well aimed strawberry milkshake. He doesn’t even see it coming. Wiping his eyes, Junmyeon looks up to see his new co-workers, plus most of the diner staring at him. Them, he realises, when he sees the same pastel pink mess dripping from the hair of the waiter in front of him. He’d just gotten the back spray, Junmyeon realises. Not as much but still enough to get up his nose and clog his senses with strawberries. From one of the booths, some kids are beside themselves with laughter. A few flashes go off. The culprit is another waiter, a thin man with blueish hair who looks torn between rage, guilt, and pride. He places the milkshake glass back on the counter with a smug thud, before storming over, elbowing the other waiter aside and shoving his apron into the arms of an unimpressed Yifan on his way out of the store. Almost immediately, Yifan turns to him. “Sorry to do this to you, man,” he says, bundling the apron into Junmyeon’s arms. “Wh—“ “It’s school holiday season,” he says in response to Junmyeon’s panicked expression, as if it’s any sort of reassuring explanation. “And space is hot with the kids right now.” He points to the droopy eyed waited picking foam out of his hair, “Baekhyun will show you the ropes” Honestly, after what he just saw, Junmyeon doesn’t think this Baekhyun should be left responsible of showing anyone anything. Before he can say anything on the matter however, Yifan slaps him on the back with one of his too-large hands and disappears back into his office without a backwards glance. Wide eyed and dripping, he turns to look to his new co-workers for help. The unimpressed girl at the counter merely raises an eyebrow at him, while the pink haired man at the drinks station at least has the heart to look sorry for him. The owner of the pair of warm, curious eyes looking at him through the service window smiles, laughs, then dings the service bell without shame. “Order up!” He locks eyes with Zitao, who shrugs and says “you said you were free to start whenever he needed you” and goes back to taking photos of his space sundae. I didn’t mean it literally, Junmyeon wants to snap at him. Who on earth ever means that literally? Junmyeon has never been one to cry over spilt milk but, as he looks at the pink mess on the floor and drying in Baekhyun’s hair as the waiter snatches his wrist and drags him into the kitchen, he’s tempted to make an exception. —☆— As it turns out, the decorating and the boss aren’t the only things strange and eclectic about the Mars Bar. Yifan seems to have quite the knack for collecting things bizarre, odd collections of things that don’t quite fit in theory and maybe not visually, but work together in some strange sort of spiritual way. Like Baekhyun, for example, who heads right into the kitchen and attempts to rinse out the mess in his hair with the dish hose. Or the chef, whose name Junmyeon doesn’t catch, who throws an egg straight across the room with enough pinpoint accuracy to nail Baekhyun fair square in the back of the head. “Hey!” He yells, waving his knife in their direction. “Not in my kitchen! We have bathrooms for a reason!” “They don’t have hoses!” Baekhyun whines. He touches the back of his head and it comes away goopy with yolk. Junmyeon’s glad the chef has a better aim than the blue haired kid who’d just walked out. The last thing he needs is for something else to hit him in the face. “And they smell like kid shit this time of year, you know that.” “Don’t care! You asked for it and now you’re breaking the rules. Don’t make me throw another.” “Jongdae, I swear to god—“ “No.” “Really?“ “No.” “Please—“ “No.” “I’m going to scream,” Baekhyun mutters, dropping the hose back into the sink. “No screaming in the kitchen,” says a boy with big eyes who emerges from the fridge. He drops a large tub of something onto the counter before fixing Baekhyun with a scathing look, “This is a sacred space.” Baekhyun makes an indignant noise of protest and drags him away again. They end up using an old hose outside near the trash because apparently it’s preferable to whatever’s sort of nightmare the bathrooms are. Junmyeon’s thinking about the smirk playing at the corner of the sharp eyed chef’s mouth when Baekhyun addresses him again. “What was your name again?” he asks, ginger hair dripping wet but otherwise devoid of milkshake, “Jun-something right?” “Junmyeon,” he supplies, trying to smile. He gives Junmyeon an obvious once over, eyes flitting from the pink milk in his bleach blonde hair to his navy dress shirt then to his leather shoes he reserves for special occasions and job interviews. There’s milk drying on them and he withers slightly, adding another thing to his Fix It List. “Junmyeon,” Baekhyun hums finally. There’s something unsettling about the way Baekhyun is looking at him, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes and something menacing about his smirk. He beckons him over with the still running hose. “Bend over.” “What?” he squeaks, to which Baekhyun just grins and advances on him with the hose. —☆— Baekhyun, as he had expected, should not have been the one to show him the ropes. He talks too fast and too much and drops gossip about his coworkers that he would have preferred not to know straight out. There’s not the slightest bit of shame as he divulges secrets and The True Facts left and right, even when the big eyed chef threatens to chop his fingers off. The waitress, Soojung, who is polite yet blunt and doesn’t take shit, is apparently a figure skating prodigy. There’s no truth behind it, except for the fact that she’s the only one of the team who willingly wears roller-skates. With the way she glides to and from table and around child after screaming child, Junmyeon is certainly glad they are optional. Minseok the pink haired barista, Baekhyun informs him, is a man of many talents who may or may not be working for the government or the mafia or both. Kyungsoo in the kitchen is trained in the art of knife fighting and once gave Baekhyun’s best friend a haircut from across the room using a meat cleaver. Junmyeon has no idea how valid this information is, but from the way Kyungsoo cuts vegetables there’s some very real threat there at least. In the kitchen, the sharp eyed chef introduces himself as Jongdae, King of the Kitchen. Kyungsoo scoffs from where he’s slicing tomatoes at the speed of light. A lie then, Junmyeon thinks. Jongdae seems nice and lovely and easier to get on with than most of the others. His eyes are warm and his smile is pretty and he certainly doesn’t look the type to cleave someone in half or put a mafia hit on them like Baekhyun insisted Minseok had tried before. That is at least until Junmyeon had mixed up two orders, forgets to pass a drinks order onto the barista, and sends a burger out cold. When he stumbles into the kitchen holding a stack of dirty dishes higher than his shoulders with both hands, Jongdae confronts him. “Junmyeon,” he says, smiling up at him as slices up a tomato. “Uh, yeah?” “Ever worked in a kitchen before?” “No—“ “Okay,” Jongdae says then, pleasant smile on his face as he continues cutting. “Three rules. One, keep the wash station clean. Two, talk to your coworkers. And three, never,” –thump—“ever,”—thump—“send food out cold. Got it?” The knife glints menacingly in his hand as Jongdae smiles up at him. There are dishes piled up in the sink area, he hasn’t said a word to any of the chefs since screwing up an order, and he’s maybe he’s sent more than just one meal out cold. The burger Jongdae is working on looks an awful lot like the one he’d brought back. The knife catches his eye again and Junmyeon thinks maybe he was wrong about Jongdae being the nicest one here. He looks much less pretty and affable when he’s being mildly threatening. Junmyeon swallows nervously, “Got it.” —☆— He gets home that night absolutely exhausted. His once shiny leather shoes have cut blisters into the back of his feet and, despite Baekhyun almost drowning him with the hose, he still smells faintly of milk. After Jongdae had scared him out of the kitchen, Junmyeon had spent the majority of his time collecting filthy dishes, scrubbing tables, and hanging around in the barista station trying to catch his breath. He hadn’t woken up ready for a full work day, and certainly hadn’t anticipated just how stressful a restaurant environment would be. The staff were friendly enough and nothing had gone awfully wrong past usual first day mishaps, so maybe it wasn’t so bad. They had seemed pretty disappointed at his lack of experience, and Junmyeon had to pretend not to notice the heavy looks they followed him with throughout the day. Smothering his face in the couch cushions, Junmyeon exhales. He’s going to try harder. The first day is over and he can only get better from here, especially if he really tries. He needs to fix his fridge. It’s motivation enough. ”Control, control,” a small green fiction alien master once said, ”You must learn control” and Junmyeon plans to do just that. He’s going to learn the ways of The Waiter and prove himself. —☆— Two weeks pass relatively uneventfully. Junmyeon keeps his head down and dedicates all his time to being better. Better at collecting dishes and cleaning, better at handling Baekhyun’s awful borderline offensive jokes; better at everything. Everything, that is, except pleasing the King of the Kitchen. Jongdae is bright and happy and lovely a majority of the time. He exudes the kind of cheer and charm that could have him hosting cooking shows on Saturday mornings. He’s sugar and spice and everything nice and Junmyeon often finds himself struck by the warm sort of charisma Jongdae glows with. However, his portion of sugar is in relatively short supply. Junmyeon finds it hard to link that Jongdae to the that continually chops vegetables louder when he screws up. Who, despite his beautiful smile, is vaguely threatening and very protective of his kitchen. To the one he faces now, smiling tightly across the kitchen at him. “Junmyeon,” Jongdae says sharply, startling him as he enters the kitchen. “What are these?” There are dirty puddles across the floor, tracking from the service station through the kitchen to the staff shelves at the back. Foot shaped puddles that match the new work shoes Junmyeon had used his first paycheck to buy. This Jongdae is not the Jongdae he saw laughing with Baekhyun after work days ago. This Jongdae is Serious Business Jongdae and Junmyeon has sullied the King’s sacred space. Not to mention a potential serious safety hazard. He cleans it immediately and makes sure to check his shoes for any leftover dirt. Jongdae is all smiles when he’s done but Junmyeon is exhausted. It’s less than an hour into his shift and his hopes of getting through a day without bothering Jongdae have failed once again. Everyone else seems to get through it fine but he’s struggling. His luck is shit and restaurants are hard. “It’s okay,” Jongdae says when he apologises, but the way Junmyeon feels him watching as he cleans up tells him it’s anything but. —☆— Yifan congratulates him on his official induction to the team with his own pair of green shrek ears, as well as another pair for everyone else. (He doesn’t miss the disgusted looks Soojung and Baekhyun share when they are given theirs, and doesn’t doubt they’re the reason behind the missing pairs). Junmyeon wears it reluctantly at first, and then with a growing amount of pride as he continues getting better. He manages several days (in a row!) without stepping on any toes. He brings drinks out on time and remembers to get names for orders. The tables and set up begin to set themselves in stone. He knows how to refund orders and that the Comet Burger bun has gluten in it but would they care to try the rye instead? Things are going well with the staff too. Soojung isn’t as rude as Baekhyun made her out to be, just endearingly and awkwardly shy at first. She’s soon talking to him more easily about everything, something which Baekhyun complains about. Minseok too begins joking around with him, and Kyungsoo makes him a home lunch one day for his break. Even Jongdae begins softening, sending him smiles and winks and actually talking to him for once. Junmyeon finally finds himself beginning to fit the mould of the Mars Bar. It isn’t until the rainy season hits a week or so later, that his bad luck catches up with him and things begin to turn sour. He sloshes into work a little late because of the bus delay but nothing too unexplainable. This is his first time related slip up and it’s because of something beyond his control. He’ll work harder and make it up later, but all that matters is getting to service before someone snaps at him. Kyungsoo does snap, however. Not so much verbally but in a physical, wheeling freefall that sends salad across over the kitchen. The big eyed chef lands with a clatter and a crunch and nothing goes well from there on out. The diagnosis? A fractured right radius that has him booked off work for several weeks. The cause? Junmyeon’s foot puddles across the kitchen floor. Jongdae, to say the least, is not happy. Given, no one is happy with this mess, especially Kyungsoo, who is broken, and Yifan, who has to file all the workplace injury paperwork, but Jongdae perhaps most of all. His once cheerful I-love-to-cook-I-live-to-cook smile pulls into something more stressed and he effectively kicks Junmyeon from the kitchen. Service slows and Jongdae’s stress eats at the atmosphere in the restaurant. Only the patrons are enjoying the chill space vibe and smooth 80s grooves. All Junmyeon can hear is the constant dinging bell of the service window and the furious sizzling of chicken tender crisps whenever he enters the kitchen. They’re stretched for staff as is, and with the other chef, Zhou Mi, on holiday, Jongdae is left alone for the day without break. By the time 5pm hits, the remaining staff are exhausted. Baekhyun leaves as soon as he can, claiming he has a hot date, and Soojung leaves soon after. Minseok offers to hang around to help clean up the rest, but Junmyeon refuses. He has an economics paper to finish and anime to catch up on but he needs to make things right. He’s going to clean up his own mess. The kitchen is empty when he brings the last of the dishes in. He thinks Jongdae’s somehow gone home, slipped out the back or called in an alien SOS to get him out of further Mars Bar stress, until he finds the chef in the cool fridge, scowling at a bowl of mashed potato. “Are you alright?” Junmyeon asks hesitantly. Jongdae exhales and closes his eyes. In the dark of the fridge lighting he looks almost meditative, at peace and one with the mashed potatoes. The droop of his shoulders and the way he slowly opens his eyes say otherwise. “Tired,” he says finally, shelving the mash. He turns to look at Junmyeon, a small smile pulling at the edge of his lips. “Just tired.” Junmyeon is suddenly keenly aware of how this entire day as been his fault. All of Jongdae’s stress and the staff’s frustration and the mess in the kitchen was because he couldn’t follow instructions. The guilt has been sitting with all day, gnawing at him and making him sick to his stomach. He should apologise. He wonders how that would go down. Between stunningly attractive and very threatening, Jongdae makes him very nervous. “You know,” he says instead, “Lettuce probably makes for a really comfy pillow. Just wrap some up and soon you’ll be able to leaf for dreamland. I’ll go out and finish cleaning and let you know when it’s good for us to leaf—” “Did you just make the same pun twice?” “What?” “You—” He’s visibly fighting the smile pulling at his lips. Junmyeon feels like this could be a Moment. The beginning of something akin to friendship. And then Jongdae is shaking his head and turning him around, “Let’s clean up and go home, funny man.” —☆— With Kyungsoo off for weeks and Zhou Mi (who Junmyeon has only heard about) still visiting family, the days begin to play out the same way. Each day Jongdae will drag someone into the kitchen to help him out with the rush. Direct orders from Yifan, apparently who saw service slowing and Jongdae about to combust and decided that the best alternative was sending a waiter in to help. Baekhyun gets the first day shift because he and Jongdae “go way back”. Way back, apparently, means shit all and the bonds of Brotherhood do not hold in Jongdae’s kitchen, because Baekhyun gets tossed out halfway through lunch. (”Couldn’t handle this heat,” Baekhyun says as if the rest of the staff can’t hear him muttering about being called loud and annoying). Soojung straight out denies helping the next day, Minseok refuses to leave his barista station in Baekhyun’s hands, and when Yifan offers to help Jongdae bars him from the kitchen. “Banned,” Jongdae insists despite the fact Yifan is the boss, “Cooking is an art and if your cooking is anything like your art the galaxy isn’t ready for it.” Junmyeon expect to be called on next but it doesn’t come. He thought after his joke and the smile he got the other night things might start moving smoother. Instead, Jongdae suffers through the rest of the lunch shift and they all suffer with him. Orders come out late but still as perfect as ever, living up to their eccentric names. The staff might be pushed to the limit but things still look good at least. The true heart of hospitality, Minseok tells him. Suffering but looking fine as you do. For three days Junmyeon continues to wait and see if he’ll be called on for his mission. If Jongdae will pull a Qui-Gon Jinn and collect him for a Greater Purpose. He might not be a proper cook but with the right training, he could restore balance to the kitchen. However, the only thing Jongdae calls him over for is to explain that the pancakes are sold out so would he stop putting them on orders please. “Why does he hate me?” Junmyeon voices later during a down period, leaning against the drink service counter. The afternoon period is slow and easy to take care of, especially between three on the floor and Minseok on drinks. “He doesn’t hate you,” Minseok hums from where he’s cleaning the steam wand. “Jongdae is just very protective of his kitchen.” “Yeah,” echoes Baekhyun as he sidles up beside Junmyeon. “He’s a good guy, he’s just fucking anal about everything in there. And you, you’re just…” “Useless?” “Really clumsy more like it. Really, really clumsy. I don’t know what’d happen first: you hurting yourself or Jongdae killing you for almost hurting yourself.” Baekhyun shrugs at Junmyeon’s worried look, “He’s tried to kill me too, don’t worry.” “I thought you said Kyungsoo was the one who tried to kill you.” “Him too,” When his only answer is mildly concerned silence, Baekhyun continues, “What? What can I say? The chefs love me.” “I’m not that bad,” Junmyeon continues, “I’ve helped in kitchens before and I cook sometimes. He’s stressing out in there and it’s my fault.” “Then ask him,” Minseok suggest, “There’s no harm in asking.” —☆— “No,” is Jongdae’s straight out answer. Junmyeon is beginning to think that the Jongdae here is very different from the Jongdae that the rest of the staff know and love. Baekhyun tells his stories about Jongdae sending him photos of his cats and his nieces, and Soojung told her how he once joined her for a duet at a Christmas party. How he cooks for the old couple who live next door to him and how Baekhyun can’t step into his house because of all the hair the stray cat he now owns sheds over the place. Jongdae helps so many people and Junmyeon just wants to help him in exchange. He’s a helpful guy too but Jongdae is a wall he just can’t break through. For once in his life his people person skills aren’t working and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. “Are you sure?” he asks. He’s just here watching the sink fill up slowly while Jongdae pumps out order after order, darting across the kitchen. Surely there’s more he could do to help. “I used to help in my grandmother’s kitchen and at the food mart we cut up vegetables sometimes, so I’m not awful—“ “No, it—“ thump “—it’s really fine—“ ding “—Order up! Really,” Jongdae says finally, pausing to look at him. He looks fine, if not a little stressed, but Junmyeon still feels bad. He shuffles by the dish station, watching as Jongdae slides back to work. How he’s got the whole kitchen in control is well beyond Junmyeon’s understanding. He can’t even keep his university life together, let alone focus on more than one thing at a time. Not like Jongdae, who isn’t so much horribly perspiring but glowing with a sort of ethereal kingly glow, like he really is a King— “Junmyeon,” Jongdae says suddenly, “Dishes!” Junmyeon startles out of his Jongdae reverie and very nearly slips over. His shoes are wet and there are bubbles climbing his arms. Emerging from a sink is a giant bubbling monstrosity and he can’t even see the tap head anymore. He didn’t come to work today to fight monsters but as he plunges his hand through the mass for the tap head he thinks he’d do a pretty damn good job. Kim Junmyeon: Monster Hunter extraordinaire, covered in bubbles and eradicating monsters near you, finds the tap head and destroys the evil, before pulling back and falling on his ass. “That,” Jongdae manages between loud laughs as Junmyeon flushes to his roots, “That is why you can’t work the kitchen.” —☆— To be fair, Jongdae does take time out of his hectic kitchen schedule to help him up and check him over for injuries (”I know I’m hot,” Jongdae had said as he slid over to help him up, ”But please don’t flood my kitchen.”). Junmyeon remains embarrassed for the rest of the day. He dodges Baekhyun who laughs at him even more than Jongdae had, and as soon as he gets home curls up on the couch and consults the Masters. The Masters, or his fluffy dog dog Byul and friend from high school Choi Minho, have been chosen for their skills in providing comfort and advice respectively. Junmyeon pouts into the phone as Minho laughs loudly while Byul sits in his lap and licks his hand. “You really are unlucky,” is the first thing Minho says when he calms down, followed by, “I can’t believe you almost flooded the kitchen!” “It was just bubbles,” he says, “I just got distracted, but I would’ve seen it.” “Distracted?” Minho picks up on immediately, and Junmyeon just groans. “Who’s distracting you?” “Doing well is distracting me—” “No, Junmyeon, who is distracting you?” He stays silent for a moment, scratching Byul and seriously debating about whether ringing Minho had really been that good of an idea. “There’s this guy—” “So there is someone!” Minho almost yells, cutting him off. “Is he cute?” “I—yes, I mean I suppose,” He can feel his face heating up. “That’s not the point! The point is that he doesn’t like me! He chose everyone else to help him and he didn’t choose me and then I almost killed the other chef and now he likes me even less than before. I made a joke and I made him smile and I thought we were getting somewhere but he doesn’t want my help.” “Was it a bad joke?” “What?’ “Not to take away from your problem but you know your jokes are bad! They’re so embarrassing, maybe he’s embarrassed? Maybe he’s allergic to shit jokes?” “Minho, seriously.” “Fine, okay,” he says, dropping it, “Did he say anything?” Did he explicitly say he didn’t want you helping?” “No? Not that I can remember,” Junmyeon answers honestly, “He just said he was fine. I mean, I was asking him in the middle of service so if he needed help he would’ve said so right?” “Junmyeon, you don’t ask for help even when you’re drowning.” “I do too.” “No, you don’t. You’ve got too much pride. You want to do everything on your own so you can prove to yourself that you can do things. That you deserve it,” Minho says, “Maybe he’s like that too.” Junmyeon stays silent for a moment, seriously thinking. Jongdae had asked the others for help, but the only one who had helped him was Baekhyun, and they go way back. Maybe Jongdae just doesn’t want to overwhelm the new guy. “I guess,” he mumbles. “So maybe you should just help him? I know he’s super protective but if you prove yourself maybe he’ll take you on? From the way you said it, it seems like no one else is there to help and if the boss isn’t hiring anymore people then it should be good, right? Besides,” he continues, “you always do like being well rounded.” When the call ends Junmyeon doesn’t move from the couch. Leaning his head back, he stares at the ceiling while still absently patting Byul. As much bad luck as he has, he is capable of handling stress. He’s managing rent and brilliant grades in his classes on top of his part time job at the Mars Bar. He knows how to prioritise and is certain he could help lighten Jongdae’s workload. He’ll try again. Explain to Jongdae that he’s not trying to encroach on his space and usurp the kitchen throne from him. Maybe it will work. He hopes it’ll work. He wants Jongdae to like him, not exile him from his own work. “Byul,” he says, sighing and feeling at least a little lighter. “Do you think my jokes are bad?” On his lap, Byul rolls over and farts. —☆— His chance comes a few days later during an afternoon shift. There are a few customers inside, and its calm enough that Baekhyun has enough time to extensively flirt with Minseok over the counter. Soojung is polishing silver wear and he’s been loitering by the dishwashing station for almost twenty minutes. So far he’s made awkward eye contact with Jongdae three (3) times and he’s worrying about it happening a fourth time and having to potentially explain himself when the opportunity presents itself. Jongdae disappears out the back of the kitchen, and Junmyeon heads over to the Forbidden Zone. His aim: flip one galactic burger patty, then return as if nothing happens. He just has to prove himself. Jongdae thinks he’s not suited to the kitchen? Well take that Jongdae, he can cook. He’s halfway through sliding the spatula under when Jongdae returns. “What are you doing?” he asks, voice sharp and confused. Instead of the gentle, secret, professional flip Junmyeon had been dreaming of, he jumps and sends the galactic burger soaring towards space. It hits the ceiling with a wet thud before bouncing back to the ground. It sits dejected on the floor, and Junmyeon feels very, very guilty. “I’m sorry!” Junmyeon says immediately, bending to get the patty. “What did I tell you?!” Jongdae sounds exasperated. “I said I was fine—“ He collides with something hard and a loud thunk rattles his skull. Clutching his head, he looks up to see Jongdae also on the floor, pair of tongs in his hand as he holds his own head. The patty still sits between them, dejected, as Jongdae scowls. “I’m sorry,” Junmyeon repeats, forgoing his own pain to check on Jongdae. This is all his fault. His efforts are stopped by the pair of tongs in Jongdae’s hand. He holds them out defensively between them as he huffs, “I’m fine! I said I was fine!” “I just wanted to help!” “Well you’re not helping!” Jongdae snaps. It hits Junmyeon hard like a kick to the chest and suddenly he doesn’t have any words. “You keep trying to help and you keep messing up! The orders and the names and the cleaning and the kitchen! You took Kyungsoo out and I have been trying to keep things together. I can see you’re trying, but you’re not good. I don’t need someone in the kitchen who will burn the place down— “ “Jongdae,” comes a voice from the door way. Minseok is standing there watching them as they pull themselves to their feet, the patty forgotten. His face is serious but the way he looks at Junmyeon is sympathetic. “Enough.” “No,” Jongdae continues. He looks frustrated and tired, stress written into the tense of his muscles and the lines in his face. “He needs to know that I don’t need him here helping. I don’t want him here, no one wants him here—“ The beeping rings loud and sharp and there’s barely any time to react before the sprinklers go off. The water sizzles on the grill beside him and the patties are charred black. Jongdae huffs and throws his tongs down before storming out. Junmyeon watches him go, numb. —☆— Yifan does a headcount when they’re all outside. Junmyeon remains silent as he does, standing with as much distance between him and Jongdae as he can manage. There’s guilt eating at him and he feels like shit, and Jongdae won’t meet his eyes. Once again, everything was his fault. They’re all sent home early that evening while the diner dries up. Yifan assures him that it’s okay and mistakes happen sometimes. Junmyeon considers telling him that it was a mistake hiring based on Bro Points and not experience but he keeps it to himself. He shrugs off Soojung’s concerned look and Minseok’s attempt to console him with a smile, before heading straight home to curl up on the couch. Byul licks at his nose and wiggles around until she’s crammed herself in his arms. It’s hardly anything but it makes Junmyeon want to cry. —☆— He rocks up to his next shift a week later feeling a little better. Soojung surprisingly welcomes him back with a hug and a good natured punch to the arm, and Minseok makes him a delicious looking milkshake with extra cream and ice cream for his worries. He’s feeling a little better until he sees Jongdae, who looks at him with a tormented look but doesn’t say anything more. The shift goes by smoothly and without error until he screws up an order and has to explain to a man and his two children that they’re out of waffles. He dons his people person smile and tries his best but the man isn’t hearing it. He stands from his seat and straightens to his full height. At least a head and a half taller he’s not only able to stare down at Junmyeon but could probably bench press him too and launch him into outer space. He yells at him about bad service, before neglecting to tip and escorting his children from the Mars Bar without another word. Jongdae finds him in the kitchen fridge five minutes later, having a panic attack beside the salad. “I’m sorry,” Junmyeon manages between shaky breaths, “I can move. I’ll be gone, I’ll get out of your way.” “No, it’s—’ The chef begins, shuffling awkwardly. “Do you want to be alone?” “Do you hate me?” Junmyeon blurts. Jongdae looks taken aback, “No, I—” he sighs before continuing, “I don’t hate you. I know it’s probably a bad time but I wanted to apologise. For being shit, you know? I was just stressed and I took it out on you, I’m sorry. It was wrong.” He rubs the back of his head nervously, “We do want you here. I want you here. I, uh, yeah.” Still breathing deeply, Junmyeon doesn’t answer. Being a disappointment and Jongdae had gotten him so wound up, but the man complaining and the missed tips had truly been the thing to push him over the edge. When Junmyeon had started working at the tacky imitation space diner that was the Mars Bar he hadn’t expected to have a breakdown over it. But now that Jongdae has apologised, he at least feels a little better. A little lighter. “I’ll, uh, let you be now. You can stay in here, I don’t mind. It’s cold though, so just be careful,” He collects a few bottles of sauce from the shelf and moves to leave, before turning back. “And the tomatoes won’t know if you yell at them because they’re, uh, tomatose. Get it? Comatose, tomatose.” Clearing his throat, Jongdae shoves his embarrassment down and leaves the fridge. Despite his heart going and his breathing off, Junmyeon smiles and finds himself oddly calmer. —☆— Kyungsoo returns to a very warm welcome. The kitchen remains in once piece, which Kyungsoo comments on as he picks up his knives once more, and the staff echo with a variety of awkward coughs and noises. No one tells him that it nearly burnt down in his absence; a wise idea from Minseok that they all agree with. Since Jongdae and Junmyeon’s respective work related breakdowns, things have been progressing in a better, nicer direction. Junmyeon hasn’t gone back into the Forbidden Zone since the patty incident, and beside Yifan’s impromptu safety meeting on work related hazards and fire prevention no one has brought it up. They fall into a sort of mutual agreement with each other. Jongdae mellows out as soon as Kyungsoo returns, and the happy, pretty, laughing Jongdae they all know and love returns. Jongdae surprises him with frequent conversation which Junmyeon is relieved to finally be a recipient of. Junmyeon finally feels like he belongs among all the fake stars and tacky space aesthetic with this odd bunch of people now that he and Jongdae are finally friends. They make jokes across the kitchen and he frequently leaves Junmyeon bumbling nervously through his words. When he tells Minho this, his friend assumes and presses for information that leaves Junmyeon flustered and thinking about things he’d rather not push for just yet. Jongdae is lovely and funny and they’re friends now. Coworkers and friends and this sort of thing never works, ever. “See?” Baekhyun whispers to him over work drinks. It’s Kyungsoo’s post work birthday celebrations and he’s the drunkest of them all. Jongdae is seated across from him, laughing with Soojung about something, but his foot is resting poignant beside Junmyeon’s own. Every now and then Junmyeon will catch him looking over, watching him with some odd expression, before his eyes dart away. “What did I say?” Baekhyun continues, catching it as it happens again. “He doesn’t hate you.” Junmyeon meets Jongdae’s eyes again, and this time they share a small smile. He can blame the heat in his face on the alcohol but the twist in his stomach and the pull in his chest is another story. “Yeah,” Junmyeon says to more to himself than anyone, “I don’t hate him either.”