#strxtrxt

♨ ; for a drabble where my muse surprises your muse with a cooked meal.

Dylan sniffed the air—he was four feet from his apartment, but he could smell it. What it was… he wasn’t quite sure himself, but his eyes narrowed as he slowly approached the door closer. There was a slight sense of relief when he realized the smell wasn’t burning—which meant whatever was going on in apartment 1222, it wasn’t a fire. It didn’t smell like roses and candy, so no one was in there taking a bath. It smelled like… he sniffed the air again, inhaling it deeply while his right hand held his key, hovering right over the door knob. Food.

Suspicious and mostly surprised that his stove could actually produce smells like those, he slid the key into the lock and turned it with a click—his dark eyes were still narrowed as he stepped inside of his home, his entire body on guard. There were only two living in his apartment aside from himself—his pet Corgi and a street kid he picked up at some food joint earlier in the week. He was sure his dog wasn’t able to even reach the counter top, much less the stove, and even if the Corgi was large enough to reach the stove, Dylan was pretty sure that dogs didn’t know how to cook food for humans. If anything, the sassy Shiwase would have just poured himself more dog food and neglect his owner for dinner.

Following the scent of food throughout the flat, he dropped his white doctor’s coat onto the couch along with his backpack, his mouth watering from whatever was going on in the kitchen. When was the last time he had a home-cooked meal? Months probably, maybe even years. Since moving into the apartment in Gangnam, he hadn’t touched his stove, much less even go grocery shopping for anything other than beer and dog food for Shiwase. He didn’t see the point in trying to cook for one person, when his time could have been invested in work or training himself to forget his past. His stomach was screaming now, grumbling in anger that Dylan was taking so long to fill it.

"Sehun…?" His soft voice called out for the kid he had taken in, his voice skeptical and still surprised that his stove actually worked. "I’m in the kitchen," came the boy’s response and Dylan followed the sound of his voice , his jaw dropping when he saw the multiple plates of food sitting on top of a table that was used for nothing other than to occasionally put leftover patient charts. "Did you make all of this?" His dark eyes grew wide, openly gaping at the steaming plates of meat, veggies, and rice. His stomach responded for him, breaking through the silence between the two males with roars of hunger. A sheepish grin crossed Sehun’s face as the younger male nodded, pulling out the chairs.