Alpha Culinary Love

Jiyeon eyed the sleek, modern kitchen with a mixture of admiration and frustration. Yura, now lounging on the plush couch, was clearly in no rush to do anything remotely resembling cooking.

"So, when you said you were cooking dinner…" Jiyeon started, leaning against the kitchen island, arms crossed, "…you weren't just trying to trick me into believing you'd lift a finger, right?"

Yura, sprawled out like a cat that owned the place, didn't even open her eyes as she responded. "Oh, I'll lift a finger. Just one though—maybe two, if I feel generous."

Jiyeon scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Right. And I'm supposed to just sit here while you figure out how to microwave something? That's cute."

Yura's lips twitched, barely holding back a smirk. "Who said anything about microwaving? I can order takeout with those two fingers. You'd be amazed at what I can accomplish."

"Takeout? In the middle of nowhere?" Jiyeon shot back, incredulous. "What are you planning to order, wild boar pizza? I think the nearest civilization is about thirty miles away, babe."

Yura finally cracked one eye open, her smirk fully emerging. "You'd be surprised. I have connections."

"Oh, I'm sure you do. The 'CEO powers' stretch all the way to remote cabins now, do they?" Jiyeon couldn't help but laugh. "I bet you've got a private chef on speed dial, just waiting for you to call."

Yura stretched luxuriously, sitting up slightly to meet Jiyeon's gaze. "You say that like it's a bad thing. But no, this weekend, I've reserved a different chef. One who's standing in my kitchen right now, trying not to break out her apron."

Jiyeon shot her a playful glare. "Absolutely not. I'm on vacation. You dragged me out here to relax, and if you think I'm going to cook after all of this…" She gestured dramatically toward the beautiful scenery outside the window. "…you're more delusional than I thought."

Yura chuckled, pushing herself up off the couch and sauntering over to the kitchen, her smirk never leaving her face. She stopped just short of Jiyeon, leaning against the island with a casual confidence that made Jiyeon's heart do a little flip—annoyingly so.

"Relaxation means different things to different people," Yura said, her tone teasing. "For you, it's probably throwing yourself into cooking something ridiculously gourmet and pretending you're not enjoying it. For me, it's watching you squirm while I pretend to be helpless in the kitchen."

Jiyeon arched an eyebrow, her arms still crossed. "So this is a game to you? You just want to see how long it takes before I crack and take over?"

Yura shrugged, a gleam of mischief in her eyes. "I have to entertain myself somehow. Otherwise, I'll die of boredom out here in the wilderness."

Jiyeon groaned, throwing her hands in the air dramatically. "Unbelievable. You're the worst."

"And yet, you married me," Yura said with a grin. "What does that say about you?"

"It says I must have had a momentary lapse in judgment," Jiyeon fired back, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

Yura leaned in, her voice dropping to a low murmur. "Or maybe, just maybe, you secretly love the chaos I bring."

Jiyeon pretended to consider this for a moment before shaking her head. "Nah. Definitely a lapse in judgment."

Yura laughed, the sound rich and warm, and for a moment, the tension between them evaporated, leaving only the playful banter they'd built their relationship on. Jiyeon couldn't deny that she loved moments like these—where they could poke fun at each other without any pretense, just enjoying the back-and-forth like an old married couple who'd perfected the art of teasing.

Still, there was the matter of dinner. And despite Yura's obvious delight in trying to make her snap, Jiyeon had a plan.

"Alright, fine," Jiyeon said, pushing off the counter and walking over to the fridge. "But if I'm cooking, it's going to be on my terms."

Yura tilted her head, intrigued. "Oh? And what terms are those?"

Jiyeon pulled open the fridge door, scanning the contents with an appraising eye. "Simple. I'm going to teach you how to make something. You're going to get your hands dirty for once."

Yura blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Wait, you're serious? You want me to cook?"

"Oh, you bet I do," Jiyeon said with a wicked grin. "And don't think you're getting out of this one. If I have to suffer through your presence in the kitchen, you're damn well going to suffer too."

Yura raised both hands in surrender, though the glint in her eyes suggested she wasn't opposed to the idea. "Alright, alright. I'll play along. But don't say I didn't warn you—I'm a disaster in the kitchen."

Jiyeon smirked, pulling out a few ingredients and setting them on the counter. "Good. I'll enjoy watching you struggle."

Yura looked down at the assortment of items Jiyeon had selected—some vegetables, a couple of spices, and a neatly wrapped piece of fish. "So, what's the plan, Chef?"

Jiyeon cracked her knuckles, her grin widening. "We're going to make something easy enough that even you can't mess it up. How do you feel about grilled fish with a citrus herb sauce?"

Yura stared at the ingredients, then back at Jiyeon. "You're really underestimating my ability to mess this up."

"Oh, trust me," Jiyeon said, stepping closer and handing Yura a knife. "I know exactly what I'm getting into. But don't worry—I'll walk you through it. Slowly."

Yura took the knife hesitantly, eyeing it as if it might turn on her at any moment. "I'm suddenly very concerned for my safety."

"You should be," Jiyeon said, suppressing a laugh. "But more for the fish's safety. Now get chopping."

As Yura clumsily set to work slicing the herbs, Jiyeon watched with barely concealed amusement. It was going to be a long evening, but at least it would be entertaining.

Yura's knife skills—or lack thereof—were immediately apparent. She held the knife like it might explode at any moment, her cuts uneven and hesitant. Jiyeon stifled a groan, but her grin didn't falter.

"You know," Jiyeon said, leaning against the counter as she watched Yura struggle with the parsley, "for someone who runs a multimillion-dollar company, you're pretty useless with a knife. You slice through board meetings like they're butter, but this? This is tragic."

Yura's eyes narrowed, but her concentration didn't break. "Cutting up people in business is an art form. This is… an entirely different beast."

"Beast? It's parsley, Yura. I didn't hand you a wild animal to butcher. God forbid you ever had to prepare something that actually required effort," Jiyeon shot back, unable to resist poking at her wife's obvious discomfort.

Yura finished with the parsley—or, rather, what was left of it after her massacre—and set the knife down with a sense of relief. "There. Chopped. Or close enough."

Jiyeon gave the pathetic pile of greenery a long, critical stare. "It looks like a rabbit tried to mow through it with its teeth. But we'll work with it."

Yura smirked, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. "That's the spirit. See? We're already compromising. I make a mess, and you fix it."

"Compromise? That's your idea of compromise? I'm doing 90% of the work here!"

"And that's why our relationship works," Yura shot back with a grin. "You're good at fixing my disasters."

Jiyeon sighed dramatically, throwing her hands in the air. "Fine, but this disaster better come with a foot rub at the end of the night. I can't keep rescuing you for free."

Yura's expression turned teasingly thoughtful. "Hmm. Foot rub? Maybe. If you're lucky."

"Oh, I'm getting that foot rub, one way or another," Jiyeon muttered, turning her attention back to the fish. She deftly seasoned it with salt, pepper, and a mix of lemon zest and herbs, all while side-eyeing Yura, who was clearly trying to figure out how to look productive without actually doing anything.

Jiyeon's patience, thin as it was, finally snapped. "You, grab the pan," she ordered, pointing at a nonstick skillet on the stove.

Yura blinked at her, momentarily startled by the command. "What am I supposed to do with it?"

Jiyeon deadpanned. "What do you think you're supposed to do with a pan, Yura? Wear it as a hat? Put it on the stove, for God's sake!"

Yura's lips twitched as she followed instructions, moving with exaggerated caution as she turned on the burner. "Alright, alright. Stove is on. Now what, oh wise chef?"

"Now you're going to sear the fish," Jiyeon said, handing her a spatula. "But let's be clear—if you ruin it, I'm never letting you forget it."

Yura took the spatula like it was a ticking bomb, her fingers a little too tight around the handle. She glanced nervously between Jiyeon and the fish, clearly not thrilled about the pressure.

With Jiyeon's watchful eye on her, Yura carefully lowered the fish into the hot pan. The sound of sizzling filled the kitchen, and Yura flinched slightly, as if the pan might leap off the stove and attack her.

Jiyeon, watching the scene unfold, tried and failed to hold back a snort of laughter. "Relax, Yura. The fish isn't going to fight back."

Yura shot her a look, brow furrowing. "I'm more concerned about you. You're acting like a drill sergeant with this fish."

"Well, someone has to take control before you burn down the cabin," Jiyeon quipped. "Keep the heat steady, and don't move the fish around too much. Just let it sear. Even you can't mess this up."

Yura narrowed her eyes, her competitive streak flaring up. "You'd be surprised at my talents."

"I'm fully aware of your talents," Jiyeon said, her grin widening. "But cooking isn't one of them."

Yura remained silent, focusing on flipping the fish at just the right moment. For a second, Jiyeon had to admit—begrudgingly—that Yura was handling it better than expected. The fish had a golden-brown crust, and it was searing nicely, no smoke in sight.

"Not bad," Jiyeon said, crossing her arms as she observed. "Maybe you've got some hidden potential after all."

Yura smirked, her confidence growing. "See? I told you. Multitasking genius."

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"Let's not get carried away," Jiyeon said, fighting back a laugh. "One piece of fish doesn't make you a chef."

Yura shrugged, flipping the fish with a flourish. "I don't need to be a chef. That's why I married you, remember?"

Jiyeon rolled her eyes, though she couldn't deny the warm flutter in her chest at Yura's teasing tone. Despite the playful insults, there was a certain intimacy in moments like these—a reminder that beneath all the sarcasm and banter, their relationship had grown into something stronger than either of them had anticipated.

"Alright, once the fish is done, we'll plate it," Jiyeon said, taking control of the situation again. "And then you're going to make the sauce."

"The sauce?" Yura echoed, her face falling. "Wait, there's more?"

"Did you think we were just going to eat plain fish? What kind of chef do you take me for?" Jiyeon laughed, shaking her head. "Don't worry, it's just a simple citrus herb sauce. You can handle it."

Yura sighed dramatically but didn't argue. She followed Jiyeon's instructions—squeezing fresh lemon juice, whisking it with olive oil, and tossing in a mix of chopped herbs that hadn't fallen victim to her earlier knife massacre. To Jiyeon's mild surprise, Yura managed to pull it off without any major disasters.

"There," Yura said, holding up the bowl of sauce like a trophy. "Presenting: my masterpiece."

Jiyeon eyed the sauce, then Yura, her lips curling into a smirk. "I wouldn't go that far, but it's passable. Now, let's plate this before I starve."

Together, they plated the seared fish and drizzled it with Yura's sauce. As they sat down to eat, the atmosphere shifted from playful to comfortable, the easy companionship between them filling the air.

Yura took a bite, her eyes widening in surprise. "Hey… this isn't bad. I mean, I'm not going to admit it's good, but it's not terrible."

Jiyeon snorted. "You're welcome, by the way. I saved that fish from your incompetence."

Yura grinned, reaching across the table to take Jiyeon's hand. "And you did it with style, as always."

Jiyeon's teasing expression softened as she squeezed Yura's hand in return. "That's what I'm here for."

They ate in companionable silence for a few moments, the earlier banter fading into the warmth of shared time together. Despite the chaos in the kitchen and Yura's dramatic complaints, Jiyeon couldn't imagine spending this evening any other way.

"Well," Yura said between bites, "I guess you'll have to keep rescuing me from kitchen disasters from now on."

Jiyeon chuckled, shaking her head. "As long as I get that foot rub you owe me, I guess I can live with that."

Yura's eyes sparkled mischievously. "Oh, you'll get your foot rub, alright. But don't think I'm not going to make you work for it."

Jiyeon grinned, leaning back in her chair. "You're impossible."

"And yet," Yura said, smirking, "you're stuck with me."

Jiyeon couldn't help but laugh. "Lucky me."