comment_fic | Tuesday: Food

Hello, everyone. I’m

nagi_schwarz and your host for the week. Today's theme is food! Prompts can be types of food, names of dishes, making food, consuming food, sharing food, and anything to do with food.

Just a few rules:
No more than five prompts in a row.
No more than three prompts in the same fandom.
Use the character's full names and the fandom's full name
No spoilers in prompts for a month after airing, or use the spoiler cut option found here. Unfortunately, DW doesn’t have a cut tag, so use your best judgment when it comes to spoilers.
If your fill contains spoilers, warn and leave plenty of space, or use the above-mentioned spoiler cut.

Prompts should be formatted as follows: [Use the character's full names and fandom's full name]
Fandom, Character +/ Character, Prompt

Some examples to get the ball rolling...
+ Any, any, comfort food
+ Any, any, food poisoning
+ Any, any, foraging for food

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tag=food

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

nagi_schwarz

Any, any, comfort food

From:

brumeier

It had been a long day and Jupiter was tired. He’d been running surveillance on an older gentleman who was quite possibly also a jewel thief of some renown, and that same gentleman had decided to spend his day outdoors in the hot SoCal sun.

Jupiter hadn’t seen any underhanded dealings. Mostly the guy had played chess in the park, read a newspaper under a shady tree, and gotten ice cream from a sidewalk cart, all while Jupiter had to work very hard at going unnoticed.

The end result was that he was hot and a little out of sorts, and not expecting his apartment to be cold enough to comfortably host a polar bear.

“Trixie? Is the AC broken?”

It wasn’t only the cold that was different. The whole apartment smelled of cinnamon and sugar and things that had just come from the oven.

“Nope.” Trixie popped out of the kitchen wearing an over-sized cardigan and fuzzy slipper socks and gave Jupiter a quick kiss. “You want some apple crisp?”

“I think I want a snowsuit.”

“Oh, it’s not that cold. Hang on.”

Back in the kitchen she went, returning with two dessert bowls. The one she handed Jupiter was blessedly warm. The apple crisp was still steaming, at least the parts that weren’t covered by a thick white sauce of some kind.

“What are we doing?”

Trixie plopped down on the couch and patted the cushion next to her. “Sit. I know you had a long day. Sorry I couldn’t help.”

She hadn’t been feeling well for the last couple of days, and Jupiter couldn’t help feeling that blasting the AC wasn’t the best antidote for that. Unless she was feverish? He pressed a kiss to her forehead, but she didn’t feel like she was running a temperature.

“I was just laying around feeling miserable and watching old Miss Marple movies, and decided I needed to tap into my inner Moms and make some comfort food. Lucky we still had some apples on hand so I didn’t need to run to the store.”

Jupiter took a tentative taste of the apple crisp – Trixie could be hit or miss with the cooking – but it was delicious. Crispy, crunchy topping, apples that were just soft enough without being mushy, and that sauce on top adding a different type of sweetness.

“This is amazing!”

“Right? But you can’t eat apple crisp on a hot, sunny day. That’s why I turned up the AC. It reminds me of autumn days back in Sleepyside. We’d pick bushels of apples and Moms would make apple sauce and apple cake and apple pie, but apple crisp was always my favorite. The vanilla sauce is my Grandma Belden’s recipe.”

Jupiter wasn’t a hundred percent sure he’d even had apple crisp before. Aunt Mathilda had certainly never made it; her comfort foods ran to meatloaves and gravies.

“How come you’ve never made it before now?”

Trixie shrugged. “The weather’s always so nice here, I guess. I just hadn’t thought about it.”

“Do you have any other cold weather recipes?”

“I make a corn chowder that would knock your socks off.”

Jupiter thought perhaps they could have one day a month of running the AC too cold, just so Trixie could try out some of her other favorite autumn meals. It would make a nice change from street tacos and fish.

“You better eat it before it gets cold!”

Jupiter did just that and went back for seconds.

From:

nagi_schwarz

This is so sweet! I love Trixie taking some initiative to comfort herself and Jupe even though she wasn't feeling her best, and Jupe being so sweet and appreciative. Apple crisp sounds amazing...

Thank you for the lovely fill!

From:

brumeier

Apple crisp is definitely one of my top 5 comfort foods. Sooo good! Jupe is always appreciative when Trixie has a hit with the cooking. ::nods:: I'm pleased you liked it, thank you!

From:

nagi_schwarz

Any, any, food poisoning

From:

vonseal

Myungjun patted Bin’s back, not for the first time that evening, wincing a little bit in disgust as his boyfriend threw up in the public restroom of his nightclub. He had to remind himself that he was a good boyfriend and that he needed to stay with Bin no matter what, even if Bin was too sick to do much of anything except moan and hang his face dangerously close to the toilet seat.

“You know,” he murmured, “I want to say I told you so, but…I’d feel bad saying it when you’re in this state.”

Bin turned his wary gaze up at him, but before he could say anything, a voice from behind them spoke up.

“I don’t feel bad.” It was Dongmin, probably having popped in to see what the issue was with his boss. “Because I also told you so. Bin, don’t eat that stew, the meat’s been sitting out too long.”

“It’s usually fine,” Bin said. He didn’t look nearly as annoyed as Myungjun had expected him to. Really, though, he couldn’t look too annoyed because he was too busy being sick.

“It’s usually fine?” Dongmin repeated. “How often do you eat room-temperature meat?”

Bin didn’t say anything, and so Myungjun answered for him.

“Probably often enough,” he said, and he continued to rub Bin’s back even as Bin threw up again.
Dongmin stared at the both of them, seeming more exasperated than anything. Myungjun wasn’t shocked about that – Dongmin always seemed exasperated. “Why don’t you take him down to your shop to desecrate your toilets?” Dongmin asked.

“I work with food,” Myungjun replied. “Hard no on that one. That would be super unsanitary to have him vomiting while my bread rises nearby.” He ran his fingers through Bin’s sweaty hair. “I can take him home, though. Which means you would have to work on your own. I know you’re sensitive about working–”

“I can work on my own,” Dongmin said, interrupting Myungjun. “I’d rather do that than deal with hearing him puke constantly.”

Bin wiped at his mouth with a towel Myungjun passed over, then he muttered, “You can’t hear me over the music.”

“I have keen ears. I can definitely hear you,” Dongmin replied. Then, to Myungjun, he said, “Go ahead and take him, before we open for the night. It’s too gross.”

“I have to work,” Bin murmured to Myungjun as he was picked up off the floor.

Myungjun wiped Bin’s mouth once more, just to make sure his boyfriend was cleaned up, and cooed at him. “I know, Binnie-Bun. But you can’t, not in this state. You would just cause more problems. Let’s get home, get some rest, and then tomorrow you can come back, okay?”

Bin contemplated this for a few seconds. In the end, he nodded his head in agreement. Myungjun didn’t necessarily need his agreement, for he would have dragged Bin home no matter what, but at least now there would be no need for excessive force to make Bin comply.

He put Bin’s arm around his shoulder, keeping him upright as they walked to the door. Dongmin plastered himself against the wall as if Bin had some sort of incurable virus.

“Grow up,” Bin managed to snap at Dongmin as they passed him.

“No,” Dongmin shot back.

Myungjun thought they were both quite childish.

“Don’t text him,” Myungjun warned Dongmin, narrowing his eyes at Bin’s manager. “Let him rest. He’ll be in tomorrow, so don’t text him anything about how things are going tonight, okay?”

Dongmin grinned, a bit wickedly. “I make no promises.”

Myungjun decided to ignore him. Dongmin was conniving and sly, sure, and he did have a bad habit of texting Bin with any possible update that he could when he covered the nightclub alone, but even he wouldn’t go so far as to overload Bin with work while he was sick. Dongmin was nice, Myungjun had come to learn, and so he didn’t need to be argued with; he wouldn’t text Bin. Not tonight.

So Myungjun just gave him a small smile and a wave, instead, and then stumbled out of the empty nightclub with Bin plastered to his side.

They made it to Bin’s car, and Bin was quick to produce his keys. Before he could unlock the doors, however, Myungjun snatched them away.

“I’ll drive,” he announced.

“You don’t even have a license.”

In retaliation, Myungjun was quick to produce his driver’s license, much to Bin’s dismay. He smiled proudly and tapped his photo. “Got it in the mail last week. I was going to surprise you with a nice vacation, but…this surprise will do, I guess. God, you ruined my surprise because you got sick.”

Bin blinked and then a large smile came across his face. “You got it? That’s awesome! I’d celebrate and swing you around and kiss you, but…” Then he grimaced and shook his head.

“Yeah, please don’t do that. I’d rather you not throw up until we get back to your place. Speaking of–” Myungjun unlocked the car door. “Think you can hold it in for ten minutes?”

Bin eyed the car in thought, then slowly nodded his head. “I think I can,” he murmured. “I’ll just close my eyes and imagine my stomach is normal and not full of…rancid meat.”

“I really can’t believe you ate that stew.” Myungjun scrunched up his nose. “I told you not to.”

“It smelled good.”

“It was old.”

“It still smelled good. I thought it would be okay if it smelled good.”

Myungjun sighed. He rubbed Bin’s back one last time, then opened the passenger side door for him. “Get in. Don’t throw up on the ride. Remember, this is your car, so if you throw up–”

“I can just do it before,” Bin told him, as if he somehow had perfect control over when and where he threw up.

And, somehow, he did seem to have perfect control, because he spun around and threw up behind one of the concrete barriers in the parking lot. Myungjun watched him, still a bit disgusted, but he was quick to position himself by Bin’s side to comfort him and assist him.

As gross as it was, he loved Bin far too much to let him suffer alone.

From:

nagi_schwarz

Awww poor Bin! But Myungjun takes good care of him. So cute that he wanted to surprise Bin with his driver’s license! And Dongmin takes care of Bin in his own way too. Thank you for this fill!

From:

nagi_schwarz

Any, any, foraging for food

From:

nagi_schwarz

Any, any, hole-in-the-wall restaurant that has a Michelin star

From:

nagi_schwarz

Any, any, food allergy

From:

squidgiepdx

Stargate Atlantis, Any/Any, Bringing a favorite food back from Earth

From:

squidgiepdx

The Losers, Carlos "Cougar" Alvarez/Jake Jensen, Jake realizes he can get the smallest of smiles out of Cougar when he brings him little candies from Cougar's childhood.

From:

squidgiepdx

Merlin, Mertlin/Arthur Pendragon, Arthur takes his turn serving Merlin

From:

nagi_schwarz

At the Feast of Fools, where servants changed places with their masters for a day, of course Merlin should be the Prince, what with him serving Prince Arthur and all. It made total sense. Of course Gwen was the Princess, and of course Baudwin, King Uther’s manservant, was the King.

No one commented on the absence of a queen from the festival.

A dozen or so peasants had been recruited from the lower town, cleaned up and dressed up to play the lords and ladies at the Feast, and they sat at the long banquet table, watching wide-eyed as masked servants brought in dish after dish. Even though the servants were all masked, Merlin could tell Arthur from a mile away.

Merlin knew every inch of Arthur, every strand of dark golden hair, every line of his throat and shoulders, the play of muscle beneath the simple tunic and hose, the imperious stride in the borrowed boots. Merlin could also spot Morgana, and Geoffrey, and Leon and Percy and some of the other knights weaving through the tables, bearing platters high.

But Merlin couldn’t help but watch as Arthur approached, bearing a jug of wine.

Arthur knew to approach from the right, to pour carefully, to not fill past the line of engraving on the inside of Merlin’s goblet. His posture was more knightly than deferential, but he had excellent form.

“My lord,” Arthur murmured, as he refilled Merlin’s goblet.

“Thank you,” Merlin said, determined to be a gracious prince.

No one was supposed to know who was serving them, and the peasants from the lower town certainly had no clue which among them was royalty or not — Uther stayed in the kitchens and played assistant to the head cook.
Even though it was the Feast of Fools, some protocol had to be maintained, and Arthur couldn’t actually taste-test Merlin’s food for him. The first time Arthur held up a spoonful of beef and ale pie and said, “Your highness?” Merlin was confused for a moment.

But then Arthur brought the spoon closer, and Merlin accepted the bite. It was eat the food first or get food on his face, he was sure. Except when Arthur leaned in, his gaze was heated behind the half-mask, and his cool breath against Merlin’s ear made Merlin shiver.

“And this, your highness.”

Merlin had only ever spoon-fed Arthur when he was injured and unable to fend for himself. He’d never imagined anyone feeding him for any reason besides illness or injury. It had never occurred to him that being hand-fed could be so — intimate.

But with every course and every dish, Merlin felt his temperature rise more and more, and when dessert finally arrived, some massive pastry concoction topped with cream and fruit, he thought he was going to combust.

“My lord?” Arthur asked, holding out a single cream-covered strawberry.

Merlin leaned in and ate it carefully, not letting his lips touch Arthur’s skin. He saw heat flash in Arthur’s gaze, and then Arthur turned away.

After the feast, Merlin led the first dance with Gwen, and then when the servants and nobles were free to mingle on the ballroom floor — and mingle their judgment with wine — Merlin slipped away.

He ducked into the nearest servants’ corridor and pressed himself against the wall, taking several deep breaths.

And then a servant appeared beside him. “My lord?”

Merlin started and turned.

Arthur pulled off his mask and let it clatter to the stone floor. “My lord?” he said again, tone as polite and solicitous as it had been all evening, but the heat and want in his gaze stark.

“You don’t have to call me that anymore,” Merlin said. “Please. You know my name.”

Arthur stepped closer. “Merlin.”

Merlin said, “My lord.”

Arthur said, “You know my name.”

Merlin said, “Arthur,” and closed the distance between them.

From:

brumeier

From fun to hot and steamy in sixty seconds! LOL! I hope they aren't trying to keep their relationship a secret, because I'm pretty sure you could see those sparks from space. ::winks:: Well done!

From:

nagi_schwarz

Thank you!

Subtle boys are not subtle lol.

From:

squidgiepdx

Oh holy crapballs... ::whew:: Is it hot in here or is it just me?

This was DELICIOUS!!! Thank you!!!

From:

squidgiepdx

Torchwood, Any/Any, Candies from their past

From:

squidgiepdx

Stargate Atlantis, Any/Any, A Pegasus delicacy

From:

brumeier

Any, Any, Banana Pancakes (Jack Johnson)

From:

brumeier

Any, Any, Cheeseburger in Paradise (Jimmy Buffett)

From:

brumeier

Any, Any +/ Any, making someone their favorite family recipe as a surprise

From:

brumeier

Any, Any, the repercussions of having a heightened sense of taste

From:

brumeier

Any, Any, using food as a reward

From:

smallhobbit

"No, you're not coming with us," Adam Carter said.

The werewolf collapsed in dramatic fashion in the middle of the Grid, giving a loud sigh.

"However," Adam continued, "if you behave yourself and don't get in anyone's way while we're out I'll bring you back a happy meal." The werewolf didn't move. "Do you understand?" he asked firmly.

The werewolf thumped his tail on the floor a couple of times and then sloped off to lie underneath Adam's desk.

Later, when Adam phoned to find out how the werewolf had been, Malcolm said, apart from some loud snoring, he'd been good. "And a toe in the ribs made him roll over and snore quietly, so I don't think it was deliberate."

When Adam and Ros came back onto the Grid, they found the werewolf sitting very quietly by Adam's desk. As Adam took out the happy meal, the werewolf shot across the room and then trotted back again with a mouthful of fries, dropping bits as he went.

From:

nagi_schwarz

That’s so cute! Wolf Lucas being happy with a Happy Meal. Now I want a happy meal…thank you for the fill!

From:

smallhobbit

He has very basic tastes!

From:

brumeier

LOL! I absolutely had the werewolf in mind for this prompt! You never disappoint. I could also be properly motivated by a Happy Meal, I suspect. Thank you so much for the fun fill!

From:

smallhobbit

I thought it might be aimed in that direction - and am delighted you liked it.

From:

brumeier

You're always picking up what I'm putting down. ::winks::

From:

templefugate

Any, any, "You're really going to eat that?"

From:

templefugate

Any, any, witnessing cannibalism

From:

brumeier

“My apologies, but it is not the Athosian custom,” Teyla said.

John, who’d been keeping an eye on the gathered crowd, watching body language and listening to the tone of the conversation if not the actual words, tuned back in.

It was their second visit with the Yu’rani people, meant to strengthen their tentative trade agreement and show their good will. Everyone had gathered in the village center for a celebratory feast, and so far everything had been going well. There was nothing in the food that would kill Rodney (probably), and everyone was getting along well.

A woman, dressed all in white except for the thick black cord tied around the waist of her shift, was standing in front of Teyla holding a platter of thinly sliced meat that had been roasted in the same big fire that had also offered up a variety of root vegetable, two pig-like creatures, and seemingly an entire flock of birds.

“There a problem?” he murmured for Teyla’s ears only.

“This is Manie,” Teyla said by way of introduction. “Her husband was a great Yu’rani warrior; he has recently passed on to the next world.”

“Oh. My condolences.”

Manie nodded and offered the platter to John.

“As is their custom, you are being offered a piece of her husband’s heart.”

John had enough practice at this sort of thing to keep his expression unreadable, but on the inside, he was wincing in disgust.

“His what now?” Rodney asked, leaning around John to get a better look.

“It is how they honor their dead,” Teyla explained.

“It’s not our custom either,” John said to Manie. “But thanks.”

The widow bobbed her head again, moving down the line. Rodney just shook his head, but Ronon took a piece of the meat and popped it into his mouth after offering his thanks. Rodney looked scandalized.

“What the hell are you doing? You can’t eat people! Not only is it morally dubious at best, but you can get diseases!”

Ronon just shrugged. “It’s a good honor for a warrior. Don’t you drink the blood of the animals you slay?”

“I don’t slay my own meat, you neanderthal! I get it from the grocery store like normal people.”

“Many people honor their dead in this way,” Teyla said. “Do you not have any Earth cultures that do the same?”

“Yes,” Rodney hissed. “Cannibals!”

“It’s usually a last resort kind of thing,” John said, thinking of the Donner party and those soccer players in the Andes. “My granddad used to tell stories about prisoners of war getting eaten by their captors in the second world war. To take on the strengths of their enemies.”

“Disgusting,” Rodney muttered. “This is putting me off my whole meal.”

Which clearly wasn’t the case as he pulled more meat off one of the bird carcasses and shoved it in his mouth. John had found there to be very little that put Rodney off his feed.

“I’ve heard of warriors wearing the blood of their enemies as war paint,” Ronon offered. “It’s a good way to strike fear into the hearts of their brothers-in-arms.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll skip that the next time we’re up against the Wraith,” John said. He popped one of the little potato things in his mouth, since the thought of eating more of the meat had kind of soured under the circumstances.

He couldn’t help but wonder what type of circumstance would lead to him willingly eating human flesh. How desperate would he have to be? How hungry? He honestly wasn’t sure his will to live was strong enough to make cannibalism an option.

John noticed that every member of the Yu’rani took a piece of the dead man’s heart, and his wife ate whatever was left. Did they do that for anyone who died, or just villagers of a certain standing? He wasn’t sure he really wanted to know the answer.

“Hey. We’re not trading for meat from these guys are we?” Rodney asked. “Because I wouldn’t trust it.”

“We’re trading for these,” John replied, holding up one of the little potato things. “And some leatherwork.”

“Do you remember in Silence of the Lambs when –”

“Don’t go there, McKay,” John warned. “Can we talk about something else, please?”

“They have invited us back for their harvest festival,” Teyla said, her lips twitching like she wanted to smile. “I understand they do a lot of dancing without the constriction of clothing.”

“Naked dancing?” Rodney squeaked.

Ronon nodded. “I could get behind that.”

John sighed and looked at his watch. Surely it was almost time to go home.

From:

nagi_schwarz

You know it really is a wonder they didn’t run into such a society in canon. Love the way Teyla handled it all, and that Ronon had his own take. Also lol it does take a lot to truly put Rodney off a meal. Thanks for this fill!

From:

brumeier

Right? We don't have many cultures on Earth that practice cannibalism, but there are some. I'm pleased you liked my take on this, thank you!

From:

cornerofmadness

Title: Raven’s Hollow

Summary: Amity tries to hide that she’s reinjured her ankle but fooling the Nocedas isn’t as easy as she might imagine.

Find the story here.

From:

cozy_coffee

Got some creepy vibes, but this was great!!! Thanks!

From:

cornerofmadness

You're welcome

From:

cornerofmadness

Hazbin Hotel, Angel Dust + any/all hotel members, he surprises them with a homemade Italian dinner

From:

nagi_schwarz

Thank you for the fill!

From:

cornerofmadness

Star Trek (any), any, a buffet from many worlds

From:

templefugate

DC, M'Gann M'orzz, crying and eating a whole box of Chocos

From:

templefugate

MCU, Natasha Romanov, a taste of home

From:

cornerofmadness

Prodigal Son, Malcolm Bright + any, most foods make him ill

From:

cornerofmadness

Hazbin Hotel, Angel Dust + any, a client wants to eat food off of his body

From:

vonseal

Any, Any, working in fast food

From:

nagi_schwarz

Dongmin stepped into the bustling sandwich place, he felt a little embarrassed. Clearly all that product placement in K-dramas was getting to him, but he’d been having a hankering for a sub sandwich for a week now, and he was bound and determined to get one. He’d walked by this particular restaurant dozens of times and never gone in, but today he’d finally caved.

At first the blast of cool air was a relief against the sweltering summer humidity. As a city prosecutor, he had to wear a suit and tie every day, and on days like today he wished he’d gotten a job that allowed for more comfortable clothing. In university, he’d enjoyed the freedom from school uniforms — until his military service. Now he had to wear a whole different kind of uniform, but there was no summer option.

Then Dongmin came up short, surprised at how crowded the place was. Maybe he wasn’t the only person who’d been seduced not only by scenes of characters munching on sandwiches in K-dramas but also the melodramatic commercials starring porcelain-skinned K-pop idols and actors smoldering at the camera and pretending they knew how to cook.

Except for Rocky. Real name Park Minhyuk, he’d been two years behind Dongmin in high school, a handsome but quiet, solemn-faced boy who’d debuted right after Dongmin graduated — literally two days after the graduation ceremony — and worked steadily, slowly climbing his way toward stardom with the rest of his team, Astro, as their main dancer and lead rapper and one of their best vocalists despite rarely being afforded vocal parts. He’d entered and won numerous dance competitions, a masked competition being the one that shot him to stardom for wowing all the judges while anonymous. He’d also acted in dramas and musicals, and he modeled —

And Dongmin had seen everything he’d been in.

Including all of his fast food commercials.

So now here Dongmin was, standing in line to get a sub sandwich and revisiting his fond memories of tutoring young Park Minhyuk in Korean literature. If Dongmin tuned out the world around him, he could remember the way Minhyuk’s eyes lit when he puzzled out the meaning behind a metaphor in a poem, or the way his brow furrowed in concentration as he penned the opening paragraph of an essay about a short story.

Dongmin could relive Minhyuk’s shy smile as he bowed and presented Dongmin with a roll of homemade kimbap in gratitude for helping Minhyuk pass his literature exam.

“Dongmin-sunbae.”

His voice was a little husky and soft, had deepened over the years, but —

“Dongmin-sunbae, it’s really you!”

Dongmin blinked.

And stared.

He was at the front of the line, finally able to order a sandwich.

And standing on the other side of the counter from him was none other than Park Minhyuk. Rocky.

“Hi,” Minhyuk said, waving one gloved hand. He was wearing one of the cheap polyester uniform shirts, a visor and a clear mask. The nametag on his shirt read Rocky.

“H-hello,” Dongmin said, bowing his head slightly. “You — what are you doing working fast food? Is everything all right? Last I heard you were cast in a new drama…?”

Minhyuk laughed. “I’m fine! Just doing some promo.” He beamed and posed — and that was when Dongmin saw the life-size cardboard cutout of Minhyuk, done up in all his Rocky glory, making the same pose right next to the counter.

“So, what can I get for you?” Minhyuk asked.

Dongmin’s mind went blank. “Um. What do you recommend?”

“Hm. I remember sunbae doesn’t really like spicy food, but you really like beef. I bet you’d like a roast beef sandwich. What kind of bread do you want?”

“You remember?” Dongmin asked.

“Of course! Sunbae was such a good help to me in school. How could I forget the smartest and most handsome boy? They called you Face Genius, right?”

Dongmin felt his face heat. “Ah, no one’s called me that in years.”

He noticed the other workers behind the counter staring at him, and when he cast about he could see plenty of the other restaurant patrons were looking at him as well. Most of them, he realized, were girls, high school and university students. No wonder the restaurant had seemed more crowded than usual.

Dongmin managed to pull himself together long enough to order a sandwich. He watched how Minhyuk assembled the sandwich with calm, easy competence. But Dongmin knew Minhyuk was a good cook in real life, unlike a lot of people who modeled for food brands.

Dongmin was disappointed when someone else rang him up. Minhyuk was already distracted with helping another customer — a starry-eyed teenage girl — so Dongmin accepted his sandwich and drink and went to find a small table to sit at and eat by himself.

Minhyuk had remembered him. Impossible. He’d been so busy training while he was a student that hardly any of his classmates had known him well. But of course Minhyuk was just being polite and friendly, the way people expected idols to be in public. It wasn’t like Dongmin was special. Which. Had Dongmin given himself away? By admitting all he knew about Minhyuk’s career.

The brainpower Dongmin usually directed toward building cases to take to trial was instead aimed straight at the question of how much he’d embarrassed himself in front of the idol he had a stupid crush on, and he was so busy thinking himself into a downward spiral that he didn’t notice when someone came up to his table.

“Sunbae?”

Dongmin yelped and pressed a hand to his chest, his hear racing.

Minhyuk smiled gently at him. “You’re still so jumpy.”

“You — you remember?”

“Of course I remember you,” Minhyuk said softly, almost too soft to be heard below the din. He stepped closer and leaned in, lowering his voice. “Seems like you remember me too.”

Dongmin swallowed hard and said nothing, feeling his cheeks burn.

“Do you remember that time in the library? When it was late, and it was just us, and I’d skipped going to the company for training?” Minhyuk asked.

That was one memory Dongmin had never let himself revisit, sure it was some kind of fever dream.

Why would Park Minhyuk have kissed him?

Minhyuk leaned in even closer. “I remember.”

Dongmin could only look at him, eyes wide.

“I’ll be working fast food all week. See you for lunch tomorrow, sunbae.” Minhyuk winked, straightened up, and walked away.

Dongmin immediately fished his phone out of his pocket and emailed his secretary, instructing her to reschedule all his lunchtime meetings this week. He had new memories to make.