Jungkook should have known. He should have known.

Taehyung had never baked a day in his life. This was the same man who once mistook salt for sugar, the same man who once called a whisk a "tiny metal prison for air."

And yet, against all logic, against all warnings from the universe itself, Jungkook let him near an oven.

Which is how they ended up here—staring at the abomination Taehyung had just created.

It was supposed to be a cake. That's what the recipe said. That's what Jungkook told him to make. But what actually sat on the counter looked like a melted boot that had been left out in the sun for three days. The edges had collapsed in on themselves, the color was a sickly shade of why-is-it-grey, and the entire thing was smoking slightly.

Jungkook, clutching Aera like a life raft, took a slow, deep breath. "Taehyung."

Taehyung, standing proudly beside his crime against pastry, tilted his head. "Yes, partner?"

Jungkook pointed. "What. Is. That."

Taehyung crossed his arms. "That, Jungkook, is art."

Jungkook's eye twitched. "That's not art. That's a crime."

Taehyung waved a dismissive hand. "You wouldn't understand. It's—"

The cake collapsed in on itself.

Both of them jumped back as the monstrosity let out what could only be described as a dying wheeze. Somewhere in the distance, a noble gasped in horror, as if they had just witnessed a murder.

Jungkook turned slowly back to Taehyung. "Fix. It."

Taehyung huffed. "Fine. What do I do?"

"Start by cracking an egg into the bowl," Jungkook instructed, rubbing his temples. This was fine. This was salvageable. He just needed Taehyung to follow basic instructions.

Which, apparently, was too much to ask.

Because instead of gently cracking the egg against the bowl, Taehyung—a trained warrior, a man who had won wars, an emperor with terrifying combat skills—raised his fist and slammed it down like he was executing an enemy.

The egg exploded.

Everywhere. On the counter. On Jungkook. On Aera, who let out a horrified squeak and immediately tried to burrow into Jungkook's apron for safety.

For a long moment, Jungkook just... stared. Processing.

Taehyung blinked down at his egg-covered hand. "...That was unexpected."

Jungkook inhaled sharply. "What is wrong with you?"

Taehyung, completely unfazed, shrugged. "I'm a warrior, not a baker."

Jungkook wiped a glob of egg off his cheek. "You're a disaster."

At some point, Jungkook decided they needed decorations. Taehyung was not allowed near the batter again, so Jungkook assigned him the easiest task possible—sprinkle edible glitter on the cake.

It should have been simple.

It was not.

Because Jungkook, in a moment of tragic miscalculation, reached for the glitter jar, knocked it over with his sleeve, and—

Chaos.

The glitter exploded into the air like a festival gone terribly wrong. It rained down over them in thick, shimmering clouds, coating their hair, their clothes, their souls. Aera, now resembling a tiny celestial being, let out a deeply concerned squeak and vanished into the nearest cupboard for safety.

Jungkook coughed, waving a hand in front of his face. "Oh, great. Now we're going to be shedding sparkles for weeks."

Taehyung, blinking through the glitter storm, licked his lips absently.

Then paused.

Then blinked again.

Jungkook, noticing his sudden stillness, frowned. "What?"

Taehyung turned to him, eyes wide. "I taste sparkles."

Jungkook dragged a hand down his face. "That's not a flavor."

Taehyung licked his lips again. "Are you sure? Because it's kind of... magical."

Jungkook ignored him and picked up Aera from the cupboard, who was now more glitter than fox. Aera gave him a look that clearly said, You are the reason my life is hard.

Jungkook sighed. "We are never speaking of this."

Taehyung beamed. "We are absolutely speaking of this."

And yet, despite all of it—the terrible cake, the destroyed egg, the sparkly nightmare—Jungkook found himself watching Taehyung, noticing little things he hadn't before.

The way he laughed so easily. The way he didn't care when he messed up, just kept trying anyway. The way he always—always—looked at Jungkook like he was something worth smiling at.

Jungkook scowled.

He did not have time for feelings.

Not when he was still spitting out glitter.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Jungkook didn't want to be here.

He wanted to be anywhere else—preferably somewhere far away where he didn't have to present a cake-shaped monstrosity in front of a panel of judgmental nobles.

But no.

Here he was, standing next to Taehyung, who looked way too confident for a man who had spent the last hour destroying eggs and inhaling glitter.

The audience buzzed with anticipation as the announcer called them forward. Jungkook swallowed his pride (and possibly some lingering sparkles in his throat) and carried their... creation to the judging table.

Their cake—if one could legally call it that—was lopsided, burnt in places, and had an unsettling dent where Taehyung had "accidentally" punched it. The frosting was a tragic shade of questionable green, and there was still glitter embedded in every crevice of their bodies.

It was an abomination.

The judges stared.

Jungkook prayed for the ground to swallow him whole.

And then, the worst possible thing happened.

Hwayoung stepped up.

Now, Hwayoung was not here to play games. Unlike Jungkook, who had suffered through Taehyung's creative process, she came prepared. She had hired a team of professional bakers. She had used enchanted ingredients. And the result?

An actual, floating, singing, sparkling work of art.

Hwayoung's cake hovered three feet in the air, rotating majestically like some holy relic of dessert perfection. Tiny golden sugar birds circled it, chirping a delicate melody. The frosting shimmered like a galaxy, and the whole thing radiated an otherworldly glow as if the gods themselves had kissed it.

The nobles gasped.

The judges clutched their pearls.

Someone in the audience fainted.

Jungkook, watching in absolute horror, nudged Taehyung. "That's not a cake. That's a light show."

Taehyung crossed his arms, unimpressed. "It's tacky."

Jungkook turned to him, deadpan. "Says the guy who put a dent in our cake."

Taehyung smirked. "And yet, here we are. Still standing."

Jungkook wanted to scream.

The judges, all painfully snobby nobles, immediately fawned over Hwayoung's creation. One even shed a single dramatic tear while whispering, "Perfection."

Jungkook was already preparing for defeat. He was mentally drafting his resignation from bakery ownership. Hwayoung's smug expression all but confirmed her impending victory.

And then.

Taehyung stepped forward.

Jungkook froze.

The audience froze.

Even Hwayoung tensed, sensing the emperor was about to do something insane.

Taehyung placed a hand on their horrific, ugly, cursed cake and declared, loud enough for all to hear—

"This cake may be perfect, but it has no soul. Ours, on the other hand, is a masterpiece of imperfection. Just like love."

Silence.

The nobles stared.

The judges looked at each other, unsure if they were allowed to disagree with the literal emperor.

Then, with a slow, almost threatening smile, Taehyung added—

"May the best cake win."

The way he said it—so calm, so ominous—made the air turn cold. The judges gulped. Somewhere in the audience, someone whispered, "He means himself. He means himself."

And just like that—

Jungkook and Taehyung were declared the winners.

Hwayoung's face went feral.

Jungkook, still in shock, turned to Taehyung. "Did you just threaten the judges into letting us win?"

Taehyung beamed. "No, Jungkook. I simply...guided them."

Hwayoung let out an actual screech.

Jungkook sighed, rubbing his temples. This was his life now.