johnyong + 1: “don’t tempt me.”

“It’s bad.”
“No,” Taeyong says, choking a little (whether on the words or Johnny’s attempt at dinner). “No, honey, it’s good.”
Johnny stands, reaches across the table to take Taeyong’s plate out from under his utensils. “You’re a bad liar, so don’t bother.”
Taeyong can’t help but slump back in his chair, relieved. He wipes his lips with the cloth napkin—the fancy knees they usually save for having company over or special occasions. He feels guilty, a little, for not hiding it better. Johnny made a huge effort to make everything nice. But the food… “It’s dog shit, honey. It’s really bad.”
A surprised laugh drifts out of the adjacent kitchen, along with the heavy thunks of their home-cooked meals hitting the bottom of the compost bin. “I said you didn’t have to lie, I didn’t say you had to be mean about it!”
Taeyong, who has been trying to drown his tastebuds by chugging his wine (the wine, at least, is delicious, and in theory should be perfectly matched to the menu), comes up for air long enough to wheeze, “Are you trying to poison me? Be honest.”
Johnny drops a kiss on the top of Taeyong’s head as he comes back in, already pulling up the delivery app on his phone. “No, but you’re giving me some ideas for methods of getting you drunk.”
He grunts, lowering his glass, and then belches, grimacing when it brings back the aftertaste of the food. “Jesus.”
His husband laughs again, delighted by Taeyong’s misery, and drops into the dining chair next to him. “If you wanted to divorce me, I’d understand.”
“Don’t tempt me,” Taeyong grumbles.
Johnny lowers his phone, looking towards the ceiling as he considers it. “Mm…” He grins. “I’d probably take that case. I could work it from a spousal abuse angle. Say your mental and physical well-being was suffering from continued cohabitation.” A sleazy grin drapes across his face and he scoots closer until he can drag Taeyong’s chair right up against his own and cop a feel of his thigh. “And then I’d be so supportive and comforting during this period of transition in your life.”
Taeyong lifts a wry eyebrow. “Sounds familiar.”
Johnny has the decency to look sheepish. “Well— I mean— That’s different. You and Bora really did have irreconcilable differences.”
“Namely, our sexualities.” Taeyong suppresses another belch. Johnny’s cooking really fucked him up. “It’s okay, I think it’s sweet that you ignored your lawyerly ethical code to hit on me during my divorce court precedings. And it’s great ammunition anytime I want to embarrass you.” He leans over to peer at Johnny’s phone. “Can we get something gross? Like, really gross and delicious and unhealthy. With, like, a lot of sodium?”
The other’s face twists. “No, you’re gonna get all bloated and then you won’t wanna have sex later. Some part of our anniversary has to work out in my favor.”
Taeyong pouts.
Johnny sighs and, reliably, folds like laundry. “Fine.”