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player, champagne, showtime

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“so, how did you two meet?”

the smile on the woman’s face is saccharine sweet, polite, straight teeth and red lipstick. she has a pleasant face, aged elegantly, maybe in her 50s but not quite looking it. her hair is put up immaculately, glimmering accessories in shiny black locks, pearl earrings dangling with the interested tilt of her head.

yoongi thinks of his post on that admittedly questionable site. finding someone willing had been easy— finding the right person, someone who met all requirements, hadn’t.

“our friends—”

“in a bar—”

“our mutual friends introduced us when we were out, at a bar.”

yoongi recalls agreeing on a friendly get-together, but maybe it’s the nerves now getting it mixed up, it’s alright for the first time. still, yoongi shifts his weight on his other foot, lets his shoulder subtly touch the other’s. the boy next to him quickly jumps on it, nodding his agreement.

“right, through our friends.”

yoongi can’t remember who this woman is. probably someone’s mother, or someone’s aunt, or someone’s brother’s neighbor’s wife. she’s not a direct member of the bride’s or groom’s family, the names were different, but beyond that, yoongi has no idea. he thinks her name started with h. maybe j. this conversation has been going on too long.

“ah, that’s lovely, mutual friends—” she smiles genuinely, then lets it falter a bit to knit her eyebrows together. “excuse me if i remember wrong, jihoon-ssi— you were… hyojong’s senior…?”

“hyojong’s, right,” yoongi nods pleasantly, waves his hand around to play it down, “we weren’t too close, really, obviously he wouldn’t mention everyone he knows. he’s doing so well now, isn’t he? we haven’t talked to him yet, we should definitely take the time.” he looks over to his companion, catches the boy’s pretty, big eyes, who nods enthusiastically.

the woman glances between them, smile twitching but still so very polite. yoongi has a weird feeling about it. she doesn’t let up, though, directs her attention away from yoongi.

“and you two have been together how long?”


“four years.”

the boy’s voice sounds airy, almost timid in nature; or maybe it’s that he’s barely spoken all evening, fortunately for yoongi. he has to backtrack.

“four already?” yoongi curls his lips into a smirk, snakes a hand around the boy’s back to let it rest on his waist. he’s dressed well, dress shirt tucked into his slacks, leather belt on display. it’s warm in the crowded hall, so his suit jacket is hanging around his arm. his waist is— thin, his overall shape slender, but body toned, athletic, a sporty type. he’s been drawing attention all night. yoongi’s, too, if he were honest. he’s not blind.

yoongi catches the guy’s eyes, smile teasing, fingers pressing into his side, “i didn’t realize it’s been that long,” leans in close, suggestively, “it still feels like the first day.”

which may be the first true statement yoongi’s made in hours.

the boy does well; bashfully lowers his gaze, bites down a smile. there’s a bit of pink high on his cheeks, his nose. it’s charming. effective.

yoongi hears the woman’s quiet oh, but turns his head a bit further back, somewhere beyond his date’s shoulder.

“hey, isn’t that hyojong? we should go over and say hello,” yoongi inclines his head towards the lady apologetically, pushes them both away from her. “if you would excuse us— it was a pleasure talking to you.”

yoongi navigates them through the crowd, out of her sight. the reception is big enough that they don’t really stand out among the horde of people in their fancy suits and gowns, talking, laughing, halfway to tipsy with the free champagne. he grabs two glasses, offers one to the boy on his heels.

“still nervous?”

yoongi snorts quietly as the other downs the drink at once, grabs another from a waiter hurrying past. downs that one, too, as yoongi watches in amusement.

“it’s a bit,” he starts breathlessly, looks yoongi up and down out of the corner of his eyes; clears his throat, “different from theory.”

finding him had taken a while: yoongi had needed someone spontaneous, witty, low morals but up for a challenge and a whole lot of fun. most importantly though, yoongi had needed someone… “you look good.” —fitting.

finding jungkook was a stroke of luck.

jungkook’s pretty eyes widen a bit at the compliment, his whole body seems to tense a bit. he drops his gaze, although he tries his best not to. he’s beautiful, endearing; it’s easy, like this.

“you too,” jungkook breathes with a certain edge to it, and yoongi feels the hair raise on his skin. too easy.

he steps closer, closer, toes to toes so he can lower his voice, “you claimed you couldn’t act.”

jungkook’s eyes are half-lidded, low on yoongi’s mouth when he speaks, not backing away, “i did?”

“you did,” yoongi hums thoughtfully, touches one hand back to jungkook’s waist again. “but you’re playing your part well.”

jungkook wets his lips, meets yoongi’s eyes meaningfully. “you too.”

yoongi had tried doing this alone, which wasn’t nearly as fun as this: he’d been caught up in too many conversations, disbelieving chuckles, flirty looks, demands to dance anyway. he’d tried going with a female friend, but that had been a lot of awkward fumbling, weak smiles and unnatural touches. some painful reminders of him faking his way through high school like that. so.

yoongi had needed someone who’d make behaving like a couple with each other easier, and none of his friends had qualified. it would’ve required either an actor, a con artist, or— well, someone with whom the mutual attraction thing maybe didn’t take quite as much acting.

jungkook is slowly snaking a hand up along yoongi’s button-up to thumb at the collar, yoongi’s attention drawn to it. “who’s hyojong?”

“who knows?”

jungkook’s smile is pretty; boyish, infectious, lips a cotton candy pink. there’s that tempting mole beneath them that had immediately caught yoongi’s attention in the pictures. jungkook in front of him is much more beautiful than in pictures though, his voice sweeter than over the phone, his body— nothing had prepared yoongi for jungkook’s toned body. in formal wear.

“hyung,” yoongi had wanted someone his age, but jungkook murmuring that word hesitantly, teasingly, has a certain heat flare in yoongi’s gut. “dance with me.”

yoongi huffs goodnaturedly, means to step back from the boy a little, but jungkook’s fingers close around his lapel.

“we’re here for the free food and alcohol, not to make a fool out of me.”

“you attend weddings as a pastime and want to tell me you can’t dance?”

jungkook pulls, pulls, with his fingers and voice and his eyes glinting mischievously. “i want to dance, jihoon-ssi.”

yoongi bites the inside of his cheek, feels his stomach do some kind of weird flip. jungkook said he’d never done anything like this before, but suddenly seems way too confident with this specific part right here.

yoongi really only wanted the buffet, and a slice of stupidly pricey wedding cake. there’s something bubbling up in his chest, warm, but he’s only had one champagne some hours ago so that can’t be it. he swallows hard.

he thinks it’s a terrible idea to have their bodies this close for even longer, but—

“can’t say no to my boyfriend, can i,” and yoongi squeezes jungkook’s waist reproachfully, moves them towards the dance area with a soft gasp from jungkook’s lips, “soonyoung-ah?”

jungkook giggles, his nose scrunching up cutely. cutely. yoongi thinks it’s a bit unfair. a bit— more than he bargained for.

slow dancing with jungkook seems easy enough. yoongi knows the motions, has gone through them more often than he cares to remember; his partners usually shorter, more petite; long hair, lipstick, high heels yoongi’s feet remember as dangerous. jungkook is— not as petite, not as soft beneath his grip. it’s difficult in a slightly different way.

jungkook has his hands on yoongi’s shoulders first, yoongi could swear it’s where they were, but they seem to wander; the ghost of a touch at his nape, fingers playing at his collar, and then jungkook is too close, arms locked around yoongi’s neck. yoongi can’t remember whether this is that kind of event.

they’re swaying gently with their steps, jungkook graceful on his feet, and it’s not clear who’s leading at all. yoongi’s stomach swoops pleasantly.

then jungkook brushes their hips together, eyes sparkling playfully, and yoongi kind of chokes on air. that is more— much more than he’d expected.

“j— darling,” yoongi raises his brows in question, one corner of his mouth in interest, “i don’t think this is the right time for that.”

jungkook wets his lips, raises his chin, looks down in challenge like that. “but later is fine, is what you’re saying?”

yoongi swallows, mouth dry. well. he hadn’t intended that, but—

he glances around them quickly, but nobody seems to be paying attention to what they’re doing. nobody— except that older lady who’d questioned them for too long.

she’s standing some ways off to the side, clearly looking at them— brows furrowed, whispering to a couple of men. they all look towards yoongi and jungkook, and yoongi knows they have to go.

he pretends not to have noticed, grabs jungkook by the hand. “time to leave, play it cool.”

yoongi pulls jungkook through the dancing couples, past the groups of inebriated siblings, friends, singles. he spots the exit with his eyes when jungkook speaks up.

“my jacket—” he stops, turning to look to where they’d left his suit jacket on a chair, “i forgot to—”

“i got it, wait outside.”

yoongi curses internally but goes back for it when the group of men, persistent woman in tow, enter his sight again. he grabs the damn thing, turns on his heel and hurries towards the doors, jungkook hopefully waiting for him outside.

he spots jungkook at the buffet to his side.

“what are you—” yoongi whispers as he comes up next to him, hands trying to push the boy into motion. jungkook’s quickly stuffing his face with some of the bite-sized expensive chocolate desserts. it’s— kind of cute, kind of dumb as shit.

“excuse us, jihoon-ssi, soonyoung-ssi?”

yoongi shoves the entire plate into jungkook’s hands, turns him around forcibly; hisses, “don’t just stand there, run!”

he half-heartedly waves without looking, “i’m very sorry, but he isn’t well, so if you would excuse us!”


yoongi doesn’t wait to hear the rest of it, hurries out of the banquet hall after jungkook, who keeps glancing back at him, scandalized voices fading behind them. they all but run once outside, yoongi taking the lead, around corners and down hallways, out into the cool night— and then further, push past other guests smoking in the alley to the side, further, jungkook’s hand back in his, until they can slip into the throng of people filling the main street.

they slow down, breathe, but don’t stop until yoongi’s lead them to his car, parked in a side street a block away. yoongi leans against the passenger door, exhaling heavily, and jungkook’s still holding onto the stolen plate of calorie bombs, which he carefully places on top of the car’s roof when he remembers.

then they burst out laughing, jungkook all but doubling over.

“that was—” he starts, but doesn’t make it through the sentence, giggling breathlessly.

“i’m not even sure why we ran, i mean—” yoongi’s smile is wide, wider than ever, heart loud in his ears. he can’t remember the last time he had this much fun.

“what could they have done except kick us out?” jungkook’s bright laugh is stunning, beautiful, all joy and wild youth. breathtaking, kind of; yoongi’s out of breath.

jungkook bounces on his heels, excitement visible, giggles around one of the snacks he pops into his mouth. then he steps closer, takes another one— daringly reaches up to press it to yoongi’s. and yoongi— yoongi’s mouth is dry, heart and lungs still going too fast, still or again, he doesn’t know— he opens up, slowly, watches jungkook’s eyes on his own mouth as he licks the chocolate piece in, jungkook’s fingers catching on his bottom lip. jungkook inhales sharply, lashes fluttering as he tries to tear his gaze away.

“hyung,” he breathes, out of air, too much tension, and he sways, sways closer until yoongi catches him; curls a hand around his neck, a finger around his belt, lets him stand between his legs.

yoongi pulls him in when he closes his eyes, presses his lips to jungkook’s hesitantly first. they’re soft, warm, feel like what jungkook looks like— and then jungkook presses back, bold, parts his lips to fit yoongi’s between them. yoongi feels a hand slide up his chest, under his jacket, press into his side.

“i got your jacket,” yoongi mumbles between them, said piece of clothing still slung around his arm.

“thanks,” jungkook mumbles back, gently runs his teeth over yoongi’s bottom lip.

yoongi pulls back to look, but it’s kind of a bad choice. jungkook’s carefully parted hair is now somewhat messy, a flush to his cheeks, lips slick and red. jungkook looks at him questioningly, looks like he’s going to say something self-conscious, unsure of himself. yoongi leans back in.

jungkook gasps softly and yoongi licks into his mouth, swallows his whimper, combs his fingers through his dark hair.

“we can try talking it out next time?” yoongi’s muttering into the corner of jungkook’s mouth, kissing along his bottom lip, the mole beneath.

jungkook laughs shakily, “next time?” just some shallow puffs of air, “isn’t this here like half the fun?”

“mhm,” yoongi hums, licks back into his mouth, slides his tongue against his, “you’ve done well,” arousal and hope in his gut, “so if you want—”

jungkook shivers obviously, lets something of a tiny moan slip, digging his fingers into yoongi’s clothes. then he presses his hips against yoongi’s, in between his legs, pushing him against the car.

“is it later now?”

yoongi’s brain is all over the place, all over jungkook, so he needs a bit to remember. he remembers their dance.

yoongi bites jungkook’s lip with a smirk, bucks his hips into the boy’s.

“wanna come to my place and debrief?”

jungkook tries to chuckle but kind of whimpers with yoongi moving up against him, paying him back for the teasing before.

“is that the codeword we’re using?”

jungkook dives back in to kiss yoongi again, again, until yoongi has to stop them from doing anything more out on a public street slumped against his car.

yoongi can’t believe what kind of stroke of luck that was. jungkook was, is.

“i was trying to be subtle.”

“not very subtle, hyung,” jungkook’s eyes are hot on yoongi’s mouth, jaw, somewhere beneath his belt; yoongi has to push him off, has to breathe, just a bit. he offers jungkook his jacket back, opens the passenger’s door in invitation.

jungkook throws him a last suggestive glance before he gets in, biting down on a grin. yoongi hands him the plate of stolen sugary goods before he hurries to get behind the wheel and away from here. jungkook’s strapped in, cheeks full of chocolate again, and, alright— it’s cute as fuck, and maybe something stirs in yoongi’s chest. but yoongi won’t tell him that yet.

maybe next time, or the next, or the one after that, or— some day far in the future. yoongi has a feeling they’ll have more opportunities to work out the specifics.