First off, welcome to our new member, yukichumau! Hope you have fun playing!
All the changes are in this mod post, but, just to reiterate, we are a slow team, meaning we get 5 days to write (or skip) instead of the usual 3. If you feel the need to skip, you may just post to the community that you're skipping and tag the next person (refer to the side bar for the order of people). Alternatively, just send me a message on Twitter (@dongsaengdeul) and I can be the one to post for you. :)
Alright! Let's get this round started!
|"So Yoongi-hyung ditched me for his boy at the very last minute and left me with two tickets to, uh, Aida," Namjoon murmurs, voice cracking a little somewhere in the middle. Two beats, then he's swinging his legs forward, wiggling where he's made himself comfortable on part of Taehyung's desk, and takes a deep, shaky breath. "You... busy tonight?"|
Taehyung looks up and blinks. Seven times out of ten, Namjoon actually makes the most hilarious jokes when he's sober, or when he's had only two cups of coffee instead of three, but, right now, Taehyung can't bring himself to laugh. Is he busy tonight? Is he busy tonight? Is he ever not busy Mondays to Fridays to Sundays, from the time he gets up from his bed up until the time he thunks his head against the door to his flat while rummaging through his things for his house key at ass o' clock in the morning? Is he ever not in the middle of piles upon piles of work because some client decided it would be great if the agency could come up with a full campaign that spanned three months and possibly thirty years of Taehyung's mortal life overnight? Is he ever not busy enough that Seokjin has to either drag his ass away from his station or drop random treats right in front of his eyes just so he won't forget to eat, enough that the only thing that can tear him from whatever task he's working on is a series of (annoying) messages from Namjoon (even more annoying), a light tap on the crown of his head, then a hand just as warm as the breath that fans across the slope of his neck when Namjoon leans in to whisper, "Coffee?"
"Thought we agreed that coffee's sacred. C'mon," Taehyung would grumble, but push himself up on his feet, anyway. Two blinks, then he would look around him in earnest, taking in the scene, and only then would he realize that it had already been three hours since he'd promised himself he would grab something from the convenience store for dinner. Only then would it dawn upon him that there were only five people left in their area, and that one of them was a Jimin who had his cheek smushed against the keyboard of his laptop and his lips parted as he let out little snores. And only then would it hit him that Namjoon was six whole inches away, hovering but not imposing, offering a small, tentative smile. "Wait, did you— You really meant coffee? Like, the drink? Not 'the drink'?"
Namjoon would laugh. He would always laugh — at Taehyung, at the situation, at the space between them — and only when the sound had died already would he take a few steps closer. Reach over, hesitate, then dig his hands in his pockets. "Well, yeah, but now I'm getting better ideas," he would often say, but from time to time he would just shrug and wait, wait, wait for Taehyung to say something, before heaving a sigh and curling his fingers around Taehyung's wrist, anyway, dragging him to the closest coffee shop. "Now you'll have to deal with my big, big problem, too."
There's none of that now, though, Taehyung muses when he blinks his vision back into focus, tilts his head back a little, sinks in his seat. From where he is, he can make out the little tremble in Namjoon's lip, the tight smile knotting the corners of his mouth together, the way Namjoon's eyes keep widening and his eyebrows remain arched even if his cheeks are shaking. Namjoon kind of looks like some kid trying to get on an adult's good side because Christmas is drawing nearer and he would love to finally get the toy he's long been wishing for. He looks like— He looks like he's up to no good. But, at the same time, it's as if Namjoon's holding back, like he could be grabbing Taehyung by the shoulders now and shaking him, demanding for an answer, or carrying him to his car so they can go out for dinner at half past six in the evening, but isn't. Hasn't. Won't.
"Wait, you're—you're asking me?" Taehyung tries, then presses his index finger to his chest. He licks his lips, narrows his eyes some more, then adds, "To go with you? To a play?"
"Well." Namjoon clasps his hands together, then rests them on his lap. On a good day, Namjoon will stay still for more than five seconds before lauching into elaborate arm flailing as he tries to put his ideas into words, share them with the team, try to get his message across, but on most days he wouldn't be able to stay still. If he isn't swinging his legs, he'll be drumming his fingers on the table. If he isn't chewing on his lower lip, he'll be licking it or twisting his mouth to the side. If he isn't trying to inch closer to Taehyung with tiny, tiny jerks of his limbs, he'll be staring, but that isn't the case right now — Namjoon is looking at him with the most discerning gaze, but the rest of him is stock still. Would be stock still, at least, until the quiver of his voice breaks the spell. "I... distinctly remember you mentioning that you used to go see plays a lot, when you were in... uni, right? Yeah, you mentioned that before. And I'd normally go with Yoongi-hyung and Hobi, but Hobi's out of the country and Yoongi-hyung went on a date right after his meeting, that ass, so—"
So Namjoon's asking the guy he's been sleeping with for a month or two already because it would be a shame if the tickets went to waste. Right. Of course. Taehyung laughs to himself. Because that's how hook ups work, right? Two people bump into each other in a Halloween party, drink their asses off 'til they run into each other again, and down as many shots of tequila as possible in an effort to curb the strange itch to go looking for each other and hold the sanest, most sober conversation they can while trying to ignore the way they'd both stare at each other's mouth before looking at each other in the eye? That's how it usually goes, right? Then the same two people rut into each other the soonest they can get quiet time, then wake up feeling the weirdest urge to grab breakfast with each other and sit opposite each other long enough for breakfast to turn into lunch? Isn't that exactly how hook ups work — Taehyung and Namjoon somehow finding time out of their very busy schedule to meet in the stockroom for a quick fuck, or out in the fire escape for a not-so-long-but-not-quite-quick chat, or in the lobby so they can decide where to grab dinner: is it going to be glamorous convenience store food today or something from Paris Baguette or two orders of tteokbokki and three sticks of odeng from a food cart, split between the two of them? There must be something about this — about them — in dictionaries, on Wikipedia, somewhere on the Internet or whatever it is that really defines things these days — that says that whatever they're doing is still normal and still by the book and right, right?
"I mean, you don't have to say 'yes'. It's just— I'm just asking if you—"
"Want to go out with you?" Taehyung coughs. Namjoon makes a weird sound at the back of his throat, and Taehyung takes that as a sign to... reword his thoughts or something, to recalibrate. To try to not make things awkward because Namjoon's doing that thing with his mouth again where he keeps alternating between smiling and laughing nervously and making Taehyung's chest ache— "Want to go see the play with you, I mean. It's not— I mean, two people seeing a play isn't really supposed to be—"
Taehyung nods a bit too enthusiastically, then waves (flails) his hands in the air (trying to create space between them, but only drawing Namjoon's gaze to him even more). "Uh, yeah. That. It— I mean, if you— Did you? Want it to be, uh, a—"
Namjoon laughs. He's pursing his lips then jutting them out then hanging his head low in what seems to be an attempt to hide the faint dusting of pink spreading across his cheeks, and oh. Oh. He's peeking through what would be his bangs, if he didn't have his hair pushed back today in a way that always makes him look ten times hotter than he should be. Adjusting his glasses, pushing it back up the bridge of his nose at the same time that he lets his lips settle on a smile, then chuckling a little before saying, "Well, it—it doesn't have to be a date if you don't want it to be a date? Because — hah — I mean, we're not even— We're not—" It's one of Taehyung's favorite looks on him, this cute and shy kid trying his hardest to string the right words together in his head before letting them spill from the corners of his mouth but failing so, so miserably at it and ending up being flustered, and damn if Namjoon isn't doing this on purpose. Taehyung's pretty— No, Taehyung's dead sure Namjoon has planned this all along, and if Taehyung plans on answering with anything but a big, fat 'yes' then he'll have to save that carefully crafted scheme for another day.
There's no winning over this Namjoon, or any Namjoon for that matter.
This isn't a game he can win, ever.
"I'm packing up," he declares, then pulls down the screen of his laptop. He can feel his cheeks burning and his heart racing in his chest and the pulse at the back of his knees thumping so, so violently, he might as well crawl to Namjoon's car just so they can make it to the play before doors close, so he keeps his eyes on his—his—on his hands that are busy gathering his things and dumping them in his bag. On his feet that he presses firmly to the ground so he won't lose balance, won't give himself away. On the shadow beside him growing bigger, which means Namjoon's shuffling closer, and Taehyung's running out of space to move around and to breathe, and they're in each other's orbit again, stuck to each other like they've even been apart for too long. "Well, what are you waiting for? We'll be late. I mean, don't those things usually start at 8 or something? Earlier, even—"
"It's a 30-minute drive."
"What about dinner?" Taehyung mumbles this time, and grunts when he feels a dull ache at the back of his hand when he slots his laptop in his bag. Wow, he shouldn't have done that. And he shouldn't have leaned back, either, shouldn't have breathed a sigh at a familiar heat blooming on his shoulders, shouldn't have closed his eyes for the quickest of seconds at Namjoon resting warm hands on his hips before turning him around. "Doesn't have to be super nice or anything. I just— We need to eat something now or else we'll have to starve for two, three hours, and—"
And he gulps hard. And he's facing Namjoon now, three safe inches hanging loosely between them, pushing them away. And Namjoon's biting down hard on his lower lip and looking at him with narrowed eyes and holding him, just holding him close, when, on a normal Thursday evening, they'd be dragging each other to the nearest closed space already and pressing up against each other and kissing, grinding against each other, making out. Eight and a half hook ups down the line and Taehyung still can't fully figure Namjoon out yet, but he is sure of this — between sticking his tongue down Namjoon's throat or his hand in Namjoon's pants and sticking this close but just staring at Namjoon, studying the wicked contours of his face, breathing Namjoon in as a weird sensation simmers at the pit of his stomach, he's choose the latter and damned day.
Shit, he thinks. He should never make decisions when he's hungry.
Shit, he groans to himself, then takes a deep, shaky breath. He shouldn't even be making decisions at all, but Namjoon makes him... want to.
"You're cute. And hungry. And blushing. C'mon, let's pass by a drive thru or something. I don't want to drive around with an angry accounts guy in my car. Boner killer, man. Not nice," Namjoon mumbles after a while, then turns on his heel. There's a lilt in his voice that lingers, though, a familiar tune that curls around Taehyung's nape and makes his knees go weak a little, makes him shiver. So in a last ditch attempt to steady himself and get even, Taehyung reaches over and grabs Namjoon by the wrist, tightens his fingers and digs his nails into Namjoon's skin, leaving marks there, and jerks him back a little. "Hey, wha—"
"Not a date," Taehyung mutters under his breath, then slides his hand down until he can slot his fingers between Namjoon's own. Their hands are sweaty and anyone might see them, might catch them like this, but he can't be assed to care. They have an 8 p.m. play to catch and Namjoon is treating him to dinner and they're not going on a date. They're just two boys heading in the same direction, fingers intertwined, pulses timed to the rhythm of each other's breathing. It doesn't mean anything. "It doesn't have to be—"
"A date. Right. Not a date," Namjoon hums. The grin on his lips is blinding; the heat of his palm snug against Taehyung's own, prickling. "Doesn't have to be one."
yukichumau, you're up!