#because they actually make their own spicy sauce in house instead of just using sriracha mayo like every other store

[bitegore]

hissho sushi has absolutely no right being so fucking expensive for how ass it is

#red rambles #the sushi restaurant near my high school could give me eight pieces of sashimi for ten dollars. why is this one a) barely any fish b) not #very good and c) $16 #like in fairness the reason i went to that specific sushi restaurant so often was because i was broke and it was the only place i could get #a full meal for $5 #and i know their prices are not repressentative of other restaurants and chains #however they are also fucking insanely good and im way too spoiled for spicy tuna anywhere else #because they actually make their own spicy sauce in house instead of just using sriracha mayo like every other store #its so much better its not even funny

[smile-watches-the-untamed]

student co-op AU, part 5

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

part 5:

On Sunday night, Lan Zhan walks into the kitchen for a glass of water and discovers a pot of noodles on the stove, fully on fire.

He's running for the fire extinguisher when Wei Ying bolts in, clutching a box of baking soda. Wei Ying flings its contents on the pot from across the room, powder falling in a long arc. The linguini that had been sticking outside the pot, curling black like candle wicks, pauses, shivers, and crumbles into nothing.

“Hey, Lan Zhan,” says Wei Ying, a little breathless. “Just, y'know. Uh. Cooking. Making some—making some dinner.”

They both regard the sad gray mass on the stove.

'Are you okay?' Lan Zhan almost wants to ask, which is absurd because patently Wei Ying is fine.

“What did you do?” Lan Zhan says instead. He's witnessed some cooking disasters at Cloud Recesses before, but usually it involves something like too much pepper in the soup, not leaping flames.

“I think,” says Wei Ying slowly, “okay, in retrospect, I shouldn't have put any oil in the pot. I think it kinda climbed the noodles sticking out of the pan and that's what ignited? The more you know,” he sings with a laugh, but there's a definite note of stress in his voice.

“The baking soda is supposed to always be by the stove,” Lan Zhan says.

Wei Ying shrugs. “Wen Ning and Nie Huaisang are making a paper-mache volcano,” he says. “Like, one of those science fair projects.”

Lan Zhan does not say 'Why' but apparently the question is clear, because Wei Ying sighs and adds,

“I dunno, man, because the heart wants what the heart wants?”

“House dinner was at 6:30,” says Lan Zhan. It's nine now.

“Well, I know that now,” says Wei Ying. “Not sure why I thought it was at seven.” He dumps out the pot in the sink and carries it to the dish room, then returns to the kitchen and grabs a sponge.

“There are leftovers in the fridge,” Lan Zhan continues. He's not sure why he feels the need to point this out; if Wei Ying is familiar with co-op life, he should be able to work this out on his own. It had been Lan Zhan's turn to make dinner tonight, and he's reasonably proud of how the curry turned out, but that has no real bearing on the situation.

Wei Ying looks up from wiping down the stove. “Can visitors have them?” he asks hopefully.

“They're marked guff.”

“I forgot you folks use that term,” says Wei Ying, smiling. “It's cute.”

It's not cute; it's just the word denoting that an item in the co-op is available to the general public. Lan Zhan has no idea what to say. 'Thank you' would make no sense; he didn't invent the term and it isn't as if Wei Ying said, 'You're cute,' which coming from Wei Ying would probably be some sort of joke anyway.

He opts for silence instead.

Wei Ying maneuvers past him into the dish room again.

“Little weird, eating dinner alone,” says Wei Ying over his shoulder.

Lan Zhan made the food; he can't very well pretend he hasn't eaten yet. Anyway, why would he want to?

“I mean, I guess Wen Ning and Nie Huaisang are in the dining room still,” Wei Ying continues, emerging with a bowl and a spoon.

Lan Zhan half nods, still trying to process that his first instinct was to try to eat dinner with Wei Ying.

He steps out of the way so that Wei Ying can get to the fridge.

“Curry, nice,” says Wei Ying appreciatively, lugging out the bucket-sized container. It would be weird to watch him eat. It would be weird to watch him eat, Lan Zhan thinks a second time, for good measure. Lan Zhan is not going to watch him eat. “Oh, and rice, cool,” says Wei Ying. “Hey, is there any kind of guff hot sauce?”

It doesn't go with the dish but wordlessly, Lan Zhan points.

“Sriracha isn't spicy, it's basically ketchup,” Wei Ying protests. “Don't tell me Cloud Recesses is against flavors, too.”

Nevertheless, Wei Ying scoops himself a bowlful of rice and curry, and pours what would be a genuinely insulting amount of Sriracha on top, if Lan Zhan cared at all about Wei Ying's culinary judgment, which of course he does not.

Lan Zhan feels his brow wrinkle slightly in concern.

Wei Ying laughs again. It sounds, to Lan Zhan at least, happier than his previous laugh. “Don't worry, I'll be fine, I'm just broken,” he says lightly as he puts the rest of the food away.

This seems like a very loaded statement, even as a joke. Lan Zhan is getting tired of being constantly wrongfooted. He's normally not great at conversation with people he doesn't know, but he also doesn't think he's usually this bad.

At least this won't be a problem for much longer; Wei Ying and the other convention guests leave tomorrow morning. Lan Zhan tells himself he is happy about this. He tells himself so forcefully, he nearly misses what Wei Ying is saying, which is,

“I'll have to remember to pack chili oil.”

“What?” says Lan Zhan.

“Oh,” says Wei Ying, “you didn't know? Me and Jiang Cheng are transferring here after break. He wanted to be closer to his classes, and to be honest, I didn't trust him not to wither away without my fortifying presence.”

From what Lan Zhan has seen, Jiang Cheng seems mostly annoyed by Wei Ying, but Lan Zhan will admit that his relationship with his own brother is probably somewhat atypical as these things go. There could be fondness there, beneath all the needling and bluster.

“Of course, we took the plunge before we learned that you all are substance-free,” Wei Ying goes on, “so that's fun. I look forward to a semester of drinking outside.”

“That's illegal,” Lan Zhan points out.

“Narc,” says Wei Ying, without heat. He lifts his bowl. “Well, I'm off. Wanna keep me company while I eat, Lan Zhan?” He actually flutters his eyelashes as he says this. It's ridiculous. It's also considerably closer to Lan Zhan's own thoughts than he'd like. Lan Zhan takes that as his cue to be elsewhere.

“No, no, I get it,” Wei Ying calls to his back. “You've gotta keep your streak of putting a door between us! I respect that!”

An entire semester of this. Lan Zhan feels a thin thread of dread, along with a number of other, as-yet uncategorized emotions. He makes a mental note not to look too closely at those.

#co-op au that I am BARELY WRITING