Work Text:
♡💍♡
The Origin
♡💍♡
It all starts when Ken from Accounts tells him about the increment he’d received as part of the half-yearly bonus.
“How much?!” Seokjin shrieks, making the coffee boy jump and slosh the cups. He apologises before turning right back to Ken. “You got how much?”
“Keep your voice down,” Ken hisses, eyes wide in panic as he looks around. Over Seokjin’s head even since he’s so tall. “It’s not much. Well, for me anyway.”
“We get it, you’re rich,” Seokjin deadpans, before pinching his nose. He’s going to kill his company. Wait, that’s too easy for corporate. They deserved to suffer after putting Seokjin’s soul through the grinder every single day. No, he’s going to key every damn shareholders’ car, set this ugly glass shack on fire and scream out of the building into the streets. Anarchy, that’s what. “Let me get this straight. You’re telling me you got a raise because you like ass.”
“Can you not put it that way? It sexualises gay men.”
“You’re literally getting more money because you’re gay.”
“Okay, sure, but when you put it that way I sound like a stripper.”
“Are you not?!” Seokjin whisper yells, and Ken turns red. “Corporate likes pride month so much they eat out rainbows and give raises. What the fuck. That’s so not fair.”
Ken narrows his eyes. “If you say anything about straight pride, I will gut you.”
“Sure, now that you can afford a fancy knife with that raise,” Seokjin mutters bitterly, and Ken scoffs. That’s easy for him. He isn’t like Seokjin— a good, middle-class man with an okay family that’s not the most well-off. He’s okay, and he likes being okay, but recession is shit and fuel is a hole in his pocket, so yeah— it pinches Seokjin a lot that Ken gets a raise simply for being a married gay man.
It’s the whole “corporations trying to be cute and rainbow supportive in June” thing. Actually, no, that’s a lie. It’s mostly that Seokjin didn’t get a pay raise when he’s been their most valued employee (in his head, anyway) and he graces them every day with his beautiful face, hot body and amazing personality. A catch, if he ever saw one.
Apparently, that’s not enough. He needs to be gay for money now, wow.
“It’s a cop out move man,” Ken tries apologetically— hah, he should have refused the offer itself if he really cared— “This shit doesn’t really help with Pride or acceptance. And really, the raise is not that much. Trust me, you’re better off.”
That’s easy for him to say, when he could eat this corporation for breakfast if he so much as rang his daddy up, and not the married one. The very much father one. Fuck Freud for that euphemism.
Ken pats Seokjin’s God-given wide shoulders, and walks away in his designer sneakers while holding shitty office coffee. Seokjin makes a face behind.
Later, he has Moonbyul break code and leak some information, but that’s fine because she owes Seokjin so much for always covering her shifts. And there he has it— the numbers right before his eyes.
Seokjin hates Ken and his over-privileged ass.
(Okay, not really. Seokjin adores him, but right now he’s not feeling benevolent. Namjoon would tell him it’s the system’s fault, but blaming the system doesn’t pay the bills, Namjoon. Or help his healthy ego. Ugh.)
It should be normal by now, how much corporations don the rainbow façade and show themselves in a different light. Seokjin works at a food company, but advertising and PR are never about the product. It’s always about reeling in the hapless customers through woke activism for whatever chosen cause, and raking in the benefits of brief popularity. It’s sickening.
Now, Seokjin isn’t saying that because he’s truly offended. Like yeah, sure, it is offensive and queer tokenism (he thinks that’s the term, but he tuned Namjoon out back during one of his many rants) is never okay, but well—it’s just pathetic to pay gay men more because they’re gay. Call him a straight douchebag or whatever—but that’s surely not what the queer folk would like. Right?
“Are you crazy? That’s brilliant,” Taehyung says, slurping the glass noodles until his face is red. “I mean, yeah about queer token whatever. You’re getting money to be gay? Hyung, sign me up.”
“You’re the worst queer person I’ve ever met,” Seokjin seethes, stabbing his chopsticks into his noodles. They’re having their weekly lunch in Koreatown, and it’s one of Seokjin’s favourite places to eat in—and hide when his office gets too much. “How is that fair?”
Taehyung grins through a mouth full of food, gross. “You’re just jealous because you’re not gay, hyung. Which is a pity.”
“I’m fuming because I don’t appreciate a practice of favouring one party over another.”
“Oh, so like how straight people literally always do all the time with us?” Taehyung questions, eyeing him calmly—which is how Seokjin knows not to fuck around beyond reason. That’s the issue with Taehyung. He’s so fucking unpredictable. “Pot calling the kettle black.”
“Where did you learn that?”
“Oh, Jungkookie!” Taehyung exclaims, opening a clam. Right, Taehyung’s current…interest? Crush? Friends with benefits? Seokjin’s never sure. “He’s learning English, and I was helping him revise.”
“Helping him, right,” Seokjin scoffs.
“Sucking his dick, whatever you want to call it. Anyway—so you think this is unfair.”
Seokjin curls in, which is difficult because his shoulders simply don’t allow it. “I mean…it’s not unfair…sociologically? I guess? But it’s ridiculous. And married gay men. Not just any gay man.”
Taehyung’s face falls. “Oh. That’s a bit of a bummer.”
“Why is that?”
“I would have sneaked in, faked being an employee, made one of the office boys fall in love with me and boom—more money!” Taehyung sighs dreamily, but then again, he does most things dreamily. Since he was five years old and told everyone at their (much Westernised) Chuseok celebration that he would grow up and marry a cute boy. Everyone had laughed (they shouldn’t have). “Marriage is too much commitment.”
“Not if you meet the right person,” Seokjin says, stuffing his mouth full. “Although…monogamy is also not cool anymore.”
“You? A straight person? Saying this?” Taehyung gasps, eyes all wide and innocent. Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Please don’t get started on polygamy. You’ll say something incorrect and then I’ll have to be rude.”
“Like you aren’t already?”
“It’s fine, this is America, rules don’t mean anything,” Taehyung waves it off, then pouts. “Although, like, is your company even going to ask for proof? Ha-ha.”
Seokjin frowns. “Sorry?”
“Proof of being gay?” Taehyung asks, chomping on tonkatsu. His mouth is all greasy, and Seokjin absent-mindedly wipes it with a napkin. “Thanks. Here’s to the unfair monopoly of gays everywhere!”
“That doesn’t even make sense, Taehyung.”
“Whatever, hyung. Economics is made up anyway. Love is equal!”
He’s watching what’s got to be perhaps the dumbest K-Drama he’s ever seen when Seokjin’s struck with the idea. And that too because Kim Taehyung says random shit all the time, which Seokjin usually tunes out but thank God he didn’t this time.
He can just fake a gay marriage.
Yikes, that sounds so straight even in his head. Namjoon would hate his guts, or shake his head in that I’m so done way, and Taehyung will laugh. The mean kind, because it’s a tragedy that you’re not gay, or bi, at least, hyung, because wow the market is missing out. Or something like that. He doesn’t understand how his cousin speaks sometimes.
It’s not like they’re going to ask for proof of being gay anyway, right?
The egg has been laid in his mind, and it hatches instantly; Seokjin doesn’t have to be gay. He just needs to marry a man. It should be easy. Here he is in America, the so-called land of the free, where apparently being gay is not a crime (well, who knows with that one anymore) and it’s better than Korea, at least. Not that Seokjin has any experience. Namjoon does, the avid traveller he is.
So Seokjin is gay (theoretically), no one has to know and viola— he can present his marriage certificate (because he’s a Good Citizen) and get that raise.
Now the problem is—who does he marry?
He’ll figure it out. There has to be some dude who’d be his fake better half. Who knew Taehyung could be so smart? This is why they’re related. Peas in a pod, so perfect.
Seokjin goes to bed a happy man.
Of course, his other cousin is less than pleased when he finds out.
“You want to what?” Namjoon asks, and the video call is suddenly very silent. Taehyung is blinking owlishly, Seokjin as always looks devilishly handsome and Namjoon is…yeah. “Could you repeat that?”
“No,” Seokjin says decidedly. He shouldn’t have done that. Now Namjoon’s definitely going to go all sociological ape-shit and Seokjin will have to listen to yet another lecture. “I’d rather not. Hey, how’s your solo trip in Austin or whatever going?”
“Austria, hyung, c’mon,” Namjoon mutters, disgruntled. He often wears that expression whenever he talks to Seokjin, which is hurtful because they also have the same sense of humour that no one else gets in the family. “Don’t change the subject. You want to fake being gay to get brownie points?”
“Taehyung, do you have to be such a tattle-tale?” Seokjin sighs and Taehyung zips his mouth shut. Behind, he sees the silhouette of a half-naked guy walking around. “Is that Jungkook? Say hi!”
“He’s busy,” Taehyung says, hastily moving the screen. “And I didn’t tattle. It just happened, in a matter of conversation. You know how close I am to Joon-hyung.”
“And not to me?”
“You’re tolerable at best,” Taehyung shrugs, and Seokjin’s about to create a scene when Namjoon clears his throat. “Namjoonie-hyung, please be nice to him.”
“Oh, I’ll be very nice,” Namjoon says with a dimpled smile, and poor Taehyung believes him but Seokjin knows better. He’s in for it. “I think Jungkook’s calling for you. Night!”
“He is? I’d better go then. Night, hyung!”
Then it’s just the two of them.
“So,” Namjoon starts, and Seokjin gulps. “Now that our baby brother isn’t here. Let’s have a conversation like adults.”
“I think my Wi-Fi signal is weak.”
“Not weaker than my patience,” Namjoon says. That is a pretty smooth comeback, Seokjin has to give it to him. “Hyung-nim?”
Uh-oh. Namjoon is only that formal when he wants to be really serious. “It’s not for brownie points.”
“Then?”
“Just—it’s an experiment. That’s all.”
“Of your sexuality?”
“God, no,” Seokjin scoffs, turning on his skillet with one hand. His future fake husband, if Seokjin ever finds him, should definitely praise Seokjin’s house-husband skills. “No one is pretty enough to make me question myself.”
“Maybe you don’t need pretty to fall in love.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Seokjin makes a time-out gesture, as the oil sizzles in the pan. “Nothing in this is about love. This is just to see how…blinded my office is by social media lust to not see a literal scheme under their eyes.”
“So it’s not an experiment?”
“It’s a social one, you doofus,” Seokjin hisses, and Namjoon cackles. “Like, isn’t it suspicious that a company is willing to go so far for inclusion?”
“Every corporate does it,” Namjoon comments. “I’ve been seeing the rainbow colours everywhere. It makes me want to barf. But anyway—have you decided who to go out with?”
“Nah. That’s the only hitch in my plan.”
“Aw. Poor, worldwide handsome Jin-hyung doesn’t have anybody?”
“Shut the fuck up, that was one time,” Seokjin wails, remembering the drunken tirade he’d gone on at the karaoke bar while he’d boasted to random strangers about how hot he was. The best part? This one British girl totally agreed. They’d even dated for two weeks until Seokjin realised, horrifically so, that she never put spices in her food. “You tell me. You’re a hot gay dude. What do you think?”
“Excuse me?” Namjoon splutters, his beer spraying his screen—disgusting, what an absolute man-child. “I’m your brother, hyung!”
“Huh?” Then it hits, what Namjoon’s implying. “Ew, Namjoon-ah, not you!” Seokjin shrieks, which is when his oil splutters as well and he winces, sucking on his thumb. “I meant, like, you’d know people in your circle. Right?”
Namjoon’s still not over the misunderstanding, because he’s all red now and seriously in danger of choking, and Seokjin can’t have that because Namjoon’s mom will kill him. Even if Seokjin hadn’t been there. She’ll kill him for not saving her son. “Y-yeah. I guess. I don’t think anyone’s stupid enough to play along, though.”
“What, do gays not have a sense of humour?”
“Excuse me,” Namjoon says quietly, murder in his eyes and Seokjin apologises. “I’ll have you know—”
“Yes, yes, I know, I’m sorry. I won’t make any gay jokes.”
“Thank you,” Namjoon says, pulling the strings of his hoodie taut. He looks like a golden egg, it’s really cute. “Why don’t you find some straight guy and just tell your company you’re marrying them?”
“Did you forget about method acting?” Seokjin asks, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I have to sell this act. Ken knows I’m not gay.”
“You said they’re not going to ask for proof.”
“Yes, but they can fire me if they find out,” Seokjin says, and Namjoon nods in a sagely way. Not that he can relate; he’s off being a PhD researcher and working part-time as a museum curator. He doesn’t have to deal with corporate office politics. “Thanks for not killing me.”
“Oh, I absolutely will be killing you once I’m back,” Namjoon says brightly. “Talk to you soon, hyung, bye!”
That’s the end of it. Seokjin’s survived Namjoon, for now.
Too bad he still needs to find a man.
♡💍♡
The Solution
♡💍♡
And so starts his hunt for his dream man.
Seokjin is on his desk ‘researching’ for the next product they have to put out by Thanksgiving when really he’s looking at a blank document and a blinking cursor. It even reads— Finding My Dream Man.
“What the fuck?” Someone says behind him, and Seokjin shuts his laptop so fast he’s sure the screen must have cracked. “Hyung?”
“Hoseok, heyyyy,” Seokjin sings, leaning back in a hopefully sexy, calm and composed manner. “Sup?”
Sup? Sup? That’s what he chooses to say? He will never find a husband at this rate. His future fake husband will cringe and refuse to be seen with him publicly.
Hoseok, however, is a sweetheart—he judged Seokjin for his outfit choices, and not his personality. Okay, sometimes his personality as well, but beggars can’t be choosers. “Something you want to tell me, hyung?”
“Hmm? Was I supposed to?” Of the many great things Seokjin has wanted to be his whole life, becoming an actor is a lifelong dream. “I didn’t forget yet another report to oversee, did I?”
“You did, but that can be handled later,” Hoseok says smoothly, sliding into the next chair and leaning in close, an expression of Concern on his face. “Everything alright, hyung?”
Seokjin blinks. “Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Because I just saw a document for ‘Finding My Dream Man’ that you shut suspiciously fast.”
The issue with Hoseok Jung is that though he’s a sweet man, a golden heart if Seokjin ever saw one—he’s sharp as a hawk. “Oh, that. It’s a recipe I’m thinking of for a dream…mango dish.”
“Mango.”
“Yes,” Seokjin says, eye twitching. Hoseok looks like he’s going to call out his lying ass, so Seokjin rushes in. “But then I was like, why stop at mango, y’know? What other dishes can have ‘man’ in them? I guess that led to the daydreaming.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So…long story short, I’m fine,” Seokjin says. Hoseok still doesn’t look like he believes him. “Better get back to work! Those mango dishes aren’t waiting for anyone!”
Hoseok curls his lip. “You’re really weird, you know that, hyung?”
Seokjin shoots him a finger heart, cracking his knuckles—and only opens his laptop when the coast is clear.
Still, just to be safe—he doesn’t touch the document until he’s away from the prying eyes of his colleagues or any potential nemeses.
The quest for the dream man, however, proves futile—Seokjin researches like his life depends on it, and he likes none of the options. It’s already June 5th, so he has 25 days to get his shit together before the company changes their mind. It’s not like Seokjin can visit HR and ask them about the gay policy, then end up miraculously married just in time for the next salary payment. He’s not stupid.
He is picky though, and even Taehyung agrees. “You’re hopeless if you’re not wanting to drop your pants for Park Seojoon.”
“Taehyung, I can’t drop my pants for a man anyway,” Seokjin deadpans. Park Seojoon is attractive—he’s got a steady set of features and a sense of durability lining his rather impressive body. The issue, however, is that he’s handsome—and Seokjin can’t have that sort of competition in a fake relationship. “He’s too—ugh, swipe.”
“I don’t understand why you’re doing this,” Taehyung says, as he searches through another celebrity list with intense concentration, judging by his furrowed eyebrows. They’re on the quest to identify Seokjin’s ‘type’. “Who cares about a dream man? Just pick a willing dude, ask for his consent and split the bonus with him.”
“I take great care to maintain my group of friends,” Seokjin says, picking up a shrimp and plopping it in his brother’s mouth. “I can’t have a random stranger close to me. What if we don’t get along?” The horrific worst-case scenarios begin popping up. “Good god, what if he doesn’t have a skincare routine? I will die.”
“Okay, so don’t pick a white dude.”
Seokjin chokes. “Sick burn, but please find a willing gay Korean/Asian man who will join hands with me.”
“There are plenty of gay Korean/Asian men who will do more than just join hands with you,” Taehyung says, waggling his eyebrows—and when the meaning settles, Seokjin chucks a balled-up tissue at him. Taehyung laughs, the insolent brat. “Hey, I could ask Jungkook, actually.”
“Absolutely not!” Seokjin yelps, bringing the ahjumma’s attention to their table. He bows hastily. “He’s a baby. And he’s shared all your bodily fluids. I don’t want to be within five feet distance of him.”
“Yikes, that’s going to hurt his feelings,” Taehyung pouts, before losing it just as quickly. “Okay—let’s keep this arbitrary list of unattainable absolutely hot as fuck celebrities aside—what do you like in an ideal partner?”
“I told you, I don’t know—”
“I didn’t specify the gender. Suppose you had to settle down with someone, anyone—what are some non-negotiables for you?”
Seokjin blinks. That’s a great question. “Um. Well, they have to be nice. Easy-going. Definitely not as handsome as me.”
“Yep, okay, it’s going to be tough finding someone for your narcissistic ass.”
“Shut up,” Seokjin grumbles. He keeps his chopsticks down and leans back, hands on his belly. Really thinks about it, and it’s weird because even with a girl in his mind, Seokjin can’t…place what he wants. “I think—I just want someone who gets me. Y’know? Not like, ‘oh they read my soul and mind’. Just—they look at me, and they understand. They don’t even have to know.”
Taehyung frowns. “Okay…?”
“Someone who laughs with me,” Seokjin says, sighing as he enters his fantasy land. It’s always a nameless, faceless person in his head. “They know when to relax and when to be serious. They know when to give space. They put up with me even when I’m annoying because I’ll do that for them a hundred times over, and they support me. Yeah. That’s it, I guess.”
There is silence. Then a whistle goes off nearby, so Seokjin’s fantasy is broken—and he comes to Taehyung hastily wiping his eyes, which look red. “Taehyung?”
“I’m sorry, chilli oil went into my eye,” Taehyung says, a whole lie because he has a diet of a baby, and he can’t tolerate spicy food. “Shit, hyung. That’s so beautiful.”
“Uh, it’s just a fantasy.”
“It’s the stuff dreams are made of!” Taehyung wails, stuffing his mouth with one more dumpling. “I don’t know anyone like that, but I want this person! Where is my soulmate?!”
“Taehyung, it’s okay—”
“No, it’s not! I’m going to die alone, Jungkook’s never going to see me like husband material and I’m going to die jumping from cock to cock—hrmph!”
Seokjin has his hand over Taehyung’s mouth, smiling awkwardly at the rest of the customers. “He’s drunk. Please don’t mind him.” He winces when Taehyung proceeds to lick and bite at his hand like a rabid dog, but that’s the thing about being a sibling—you get used to the disgusting parts. “Down, Taehyung.”
Taehyung wipes the drool from the side of his mouth. “How are you not disgusted by this?”
“Oh, easy. I was a bright, untainted three-year-old who stupidly took you in my arms, where you proceeded to shit all over me. I’ve seen it all.”
“I hate you.”
“Love you too, dongsaeng.”
♡💍♡
The Dream Man quest is forgotten as he gets immersed in the latest project the company has taken on. It’s there somewhere in the back of his mind—and it’s only when Ken informs him of shifting permanently to their unit in Korea that Seokjin remembers—he has a scheme to pull.
It’s at the tip of his tongue, asking Ken if he’d be okay with this—after all, Ken for sure knows how straight Seokjin is. Something stops him, however, every time he tries.
Well, it’s not like Seokjin is going to publicise it, once he does get married. All he wants is that damn bonus. So in sight of that—he bids Ken goodbye.
Then he gets to lurking like a creep.
And that’s how he comes across the perfect man. Best of all—it’s in the copy room of all places.
“Eomma, I told you to stop hounding me,” a man hisses just before Seokjin enters. He has an urgent set of papers he needs to copy, but the man inside seems to be in the middle of an important family call—and Seokjin respects family. “It’s none of your business who I am or not seeing, regardless of my sexuality.”
Now, is Seokjin the kind of person who eavesdrops on people? Sometimes, yes. Especially if the people involved are entangled in some drama, and god does Seokjin love stirring shit up. He’s been a part of numerous drunk conversations simply because he’s an agent of chaos. This moment, however—Seokjin’s solution has been served to him on a silver platter.
He can’t hear the reply, but it sounds high-pitched—the person’s mother, then. The man inside groans, and Seokjin understands. No matter the country, Korean mothers would always get on their children’s last nerve. “Eomma, I’m not going to magically find someone just because I’m gay!”
Seokjin places a hand over his mouth to stop himself from squeaking in victory. Korean and gay? Seokjin knew he was a special kid. God loves him so much.
“Yeah, no, I get that hyung’s getting married and you don’t want me alone, again, but you’re going to have to accept that.” The man hums, then sighs. “Listen, Eomma, I need to leave, I’m on office time. I can’t hear—what is that? Sorry, the signal is so bad. Bye, love you.”
Then he snaps his phone shut (a Samsung lover! Yes!), and Seokjin makes his grand entry. “Hello!”
In hindsight, not the best way to greet one’s possible future fake husband. Seokjin has no excuses, however—the man jumps slightly, but turns around with—oh wow. That’s a very hostile gaze. Seokjin gulps as the man stares at him. “Yes?”
The man’s eyes are deep-set and his face is deadpanned. Unfortunately, it’s also a face Seokjin is somewhat acquainted with. “Min Yoongi-ssi, right?”
Seriously, this is the guy Seokjin is hooked onto? Head of the Food Development research team and infamous recluse Min Yoongi? Really?
It seems like Yoongi recognises him as well, crossing his arms. He’s a small man, though the way he holds himself up makes Seokjin think twice about cracking any jokes around him. Considering the reputation he carries… “That would be me.”
“Right,” Seokjin says, looking at him and assessing him—and being the first one to yield. He’s never done well with attention. “I’m Kim Seokjin. From Marketing.”
“I know,” Yoongi says. His tone suggests he’s well aware and not the least bit impressed that Seokjin brought in over a twenty percent increase in profits last quarter. “Do you need anything?”
I need you to be my husband, Seokjin almost blurts out, but even he in all his straight glory knows how predatory and creepy that sounds. “Wanted to copy something.”
“Just about done,” Yoongi says, taking out the fresh copy and reloading the machine with efficiency—before tucking it under his arm. “All yours to use.”
He makes his way to exit without throwing Seokjin a second glance—seriously, he’s gay and isn’t taken with Seokjin’s beauty? Sacrilege. Yoongi walks away—and Seokjin is going to let him.
When will I ever get a chance to talk to stay-in-his-cabin Yoongi Min ever again?
Seokjin, above all, has been gifted with the ability to do things without thinking them through—a lovely façade because he thinks all the time. Except this time, he goes for it and prays. “Actually, I wanted to ask something.”
Yoongi stops, turning slightly towards him. His face remains impassive, and nerves begin growing under Seokjin’s skin. “What?”
“I…I heard a bit of your conversation,” Seokjin says, going straight for the kill. Another gift of his is to understand the different personalities people bring to the table. “I had a suggestion.”
“You were eavesdropping on me?”
“No!” Seokjin gasps and Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “I mean, yes. Accidentally. Because I was there at the…right time?”
Yoongi looks tired already. Yet another one of Seokjin’s many gifts. He’s winning this proposal. “What is it?”
“You’re not mad?”
“I’m not sure yet. What do you want to suggest?”
It’s so direct, Seokjin is flummoxed. He’d heard through the company rumour mill that Yoongi was a no-nonsense guy, but facing it in all its glory is an experience. He gulps. “So I might have a solution…”
“Yes…?”
“Doyouwannamarryme,” Seokjin says in a rush, ears growing hot from the absolute cringe-fest of a person he’s become. Where are his cool and collected skills when he needs them, and why does Min Yoongi disturb them so?
Yoongi drops the sheets of paper. “Excuse me?!”
“That’s not what I meant!”
“So you don’t want to marry me?”
“No! I do!” Seokjin protests and then pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay, let me explain.”
Yoongi’s lips curl. “No need to. I’m not really interested in being made fun of.”
“It’s not fun. I respect gay rights!” Seokjin exclaims, then slaps his hand over his mouth. “I mean—we could get together. Your parents will stop going after you—”
“I love being the inspiration for a social cause, Seokjin-ssi,” Yoongi says dryly, though his eyes—well, somewhat— reveal how much he loves it. “But no thank you. I’m not catering to straight or even curious people as an experiment.”
Seokjin raises his hands. “That’s not what I meant—”
“Now if it’s alright with you, I’ll be on my way,” Yoongi says, bowing before walking away as fast as he’d entered Seokjin’s life.
And taking away Seokjin’s one chance at a potential partner.
♡💍♡
Interlude: The Problem
♡💍♡
The way Yoongi sees it—he’s always had some problems in his short life. Granted, in the grand picture, it’s worked out—he’s in a stable job, has a 401k and tons of benefits that might not have been possible in the life he had been dreaming about. Still—problems have a way of making their way to Yoongi—and he’s tired of it.
First, it had been the angst of existing in this bleak world. Yoongi had always felt too deeply and contrary to what people say, it sucked as an overall experience. Then, it had been his shitty mental health—re: feeling things deeply. That applies to sadness translating to depression. Judgment is still out on that one, though. And then, would the cruel Fates of the Universe believe it—he just had to be queer.
It’s plain ridiculous at this point.
Thankfully, he’s in America—and he likes it here. Minus all the racism, it’s definitely less judgement, more freedom and much-needed distance from relatives who try to sniff around too much for the latest gossip on the family misfit. Keeping all that aside—Yoongi’s happy. Sort of. His parents walk around the queer issue and don’t give him grief about it (anymore). Yoongi keeps to himself. It’s a win-win.
Except now, ever since they began their journey to be more accepting. Yoongi groans when he sees yet another text from his mother about his potential plus one.
As if that strange encounter in the copy room hadn’t been enough. Yoongi mutes his phone as he gets back to mixing the minced beef into passable patties for the new project.
Kim Seokjin. Head of Marketing and Sales, overall company darling—and straight as a pillar. Or so Yoongi assumes because he’s never seen Seokjin give the time of the day to men, or anyone, really. He never had to, though charming as he is—Yoongi’s heard plenty of rumours about the star of the company.
The star who is now asking Yoongi to marry him. What the hell.
It’s probably an attempt to experiment with one’s sexuality. It’s well-known throughout the office that Yoongi’s gay, though he never flaunts it nor does he volunteer for any of those ‘queer-affirmative’ talks the company tries to host. He’s confident in his sexuality, but he has no interest in being the representation of an entire community. Most of the time with these corporates, they latch onto any ‘different’ person and milk the shit out of them.
Still, marriage? That’s too far for a prank.
It’s disappointing. Yoongi doesn’t know Seokjin well, but he’d assumed that the guy was okay. Respectful. Leave it to the straights to ruin any semblance of hope Yoongi has for them.
The patties done, he attempts to make the Super Jumbo Shrimp Beef Burgers the company is rolling out as part of their readymade meal plans. It’s an odd combination, but inspiration had struck Yoongi and that’s what he gets paid for. Combining weird food combos and making sure they taste good enough to sell.
The burgers are a mild success—he foresees the shrimp stinking up the meal, especially if they are refrigerated for months on end. No amount of preservatives would help, and he has to ensure they meet the Food and Health protocol.
A problem for another day, and one of many in Yoongi’s life. Once he’s done washing his hands and packing away his lab coat, he makes his way home. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he barely holds back a hiss. “What?”
“Damn, who shit in your food?” Jimin drawls on the other end, and Yoongi can hear the evening rush filling up the bar he works at. “I deserve more than that, hyung.”
“Sorry, Jimin-ah. Had a—well, not shitty day. Really annoying one.”
“Sucks,” Jimin says, disappearing briefly to sweetly take someone’s order. “I know what’ll fix it.”
“I’m not having another one of your cursed cocktails.”
“Aw, hyung, you’re being too harsh,” Jimin whines, moving away from the noise to a quieter part of the bar. “There’s no way Sex Bomb in Leather Pants won’t perk you right up.”
“I’m definitely not having a drink named that,” Yoongi grumbles, putting in the GPS coordinates for Jimin’s bar. “Whiskey on the rocks. Clean table.”
“So boring.”
“You want my company or not? I can easily go home and ignore you forever.”
“Okay, okay, come over so I can spoil you, baby hyung.”
The bar is mildly crowded when Yoongi reaches, and as promised, Jimin has a table in a quiet corner ready with whiskey, the ice melting beautifully. Jimin himself has his arms open, and Yoongi makes a whole show of awkwardness before he inevitably melts into those arms. “Ah, hyung. You’re being needy today."
“I’m so annoyed at people, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi says, stumbling into the booth and pressing hands into his temple. “Why can’t they just leave me alone?”
“Cause you’re so pretty.” Predictably, Yoongi blushes, and Jimin grins. He’s dressed in a polo shirt with ripped jeans, and his hair is dyed bubble-gum pink. Silver rings adorn his stubby fingers—in short, Jimin looks less like a worker and more like one of the customers. Must be why there are so many looks coming their way. “I’m on break. What happened?”
“Hyung’s wedding,” Yoongi starts, downing his glass, cherishing the burn in his throat. Jimin already has a bottle out like the champ he is. “They’re asking me if I have a plus one.”
“Again? I thought they’d accepted the whole gay thing.”
“Oh, they have. Now they want to know if I have a gay plus one.”
“That’s offensive on so many levels it is funny,” Jimin snorts, looking around before pouring some whiskey for himself in a shot glass. It’s illegal, but someone with Jimin’s tolerance won’t even be phased. “And in typical Min fashion, they’re being persistent about it.”
“So persistent,” Yoongi groans, munching on the salted peanuts on the side. “And then would you believe it—someone proposed to me today at lunch hour.”
Jimin chokes on a peanut. “What?!”
“Yeah, same reaction,” Yoongi chuckles, sucking the salt from the peanuts. Jimin thumps his chest as his eyes water. “Overheard my conversation and decided not only to butt into my business but also kindly offered to be my plus one.”
“That’s a far line from marriage though,” Jimin hums. In the corner, his manager motions at the clock, and Jimin waves at him. “Break’s over soon but I’ll come over tonight. You sure you don’t want a cocktail?”
“I’m sure.”
“I’ll send one. On the house,” Jimin winks, before walking away—practically strutting like a peacock, ass out and hair fluffed up. Yoongi shakes his head. Might as well wind down in a crowded bar and drink another one of Jimin’s experiments that are going to fuck him up.
♡💍♡
The great thing about having the kind of parents Yoongi does is that they’re fairly open to learning things. A family of geniuses keeping to themselves and minding their business. They take their time to understand and accept— when it comes to giving space, there’s no one like the Mins.
So this new phase of them being involved in Yoongi’s life is a bit much, especially regarding his sexuality. Why couldn’t they start with something simple like music? His choice of work? Why did they jump straight to who Yoongi does and doesn’t fuck?
“What now?”
It should be noted that Yoongi isn’t a rude son, though a distant one. The whole coming out to them as gay thing aside, Yoongi respects his parents tremendously. The sheer effort they’ve put into immigrating and building their life from scratch, and providing Yoongi and his brother with a respectful life is something he will always be grateful for.
“We think it’s time you settled down.”
Yoongi sighs. “Eomma, Appa, I told you—”
“I know, I know. Not with a girl. We have accepted that,” his mother cuts in, sitting at the edge of the loveseat. Her hands are occupied with knitting, while his father is leaning back and looking at him over half-moon spectacles. She looks nervous, while he remains aloof as ever. “Your father and I, we just think you’ve been…keeping to yourself too much, Yoongi.”
Ridiculous. He turns twenty-nine and suddenly they’re ‘concerned’ about his age. “Not this again, Eomma. I told you. I’m fine. I like being by myself. It’s fun.”
“I’m sure, but,” she bites her lips. Exchanges a look with his father, who remains stoic and calm as ever. “You’ve been saying you’re gay for years, honey. But I’ve never been, well. Introduced to any…boyfriend of yours.”
What the hell? That’s so not how Yoongi planned his social visit to his parents for the weekend. “I have a life of my own.”
“Of course. We’re just concerned. You work too much.”
“Someone has to pay the bills.”
“And wouldn’t it be lovely to share that burden with someone?” She asks, her eyes wide and soft. “We even asked around our church. They’re quite open-minded about this.”
“Eomma!” Yoongi snaps, then quells down at the raised eyebrow his father sends. He needs to say something that’ll get them to back off. “It’s just—I know you guys have accepted me, and I am grateful for it. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“Oh, Yoongi,” she says, sending that soft, fond look that Yoongi’s weak for. “That’s our journey to figure out. All this solitude is not good for your health. We just want you to be happy.”
See, this is where Yoongi did the stupid thing. He could have said okay and moved on. But no, he had to be a sentimental fool who gets emotionally caught up in making his parents happy, since he’s only ever caused them grief as a child. And now, he can’t bear to make them more upset.
He opens his stupid mouth and says, “Well, I do have. Someone, I mean.”
Slow decomposition. The buried-alive kind, dragging on for years. His parents are silent, blinking slowly before his mother’s eyes light up. “You do? Oh, why didn’t you say so?”
The correct question would be why Yoongi speaks at all. “I was just—I didn’t know how to—I don’t know,” Yoongi fumbles, but his mother is too ecstatic—seriously, ecstatic, that’s not a Min family defining feature—to pay attention to the nervous sweat building on his forehead. “It’s a new thing. Just met him, so we’re, uh, figuring it out.”
“We must meet him,” she decides, and his father nods. Why can’t his father be a social recluse now? “Before the wedding. It’ll be nice to get acquainted beforehand.”
“Uh, no.”
“Why is that?”
“He’s…shy?” Yoongi offers, and she levels him with a deadpanned expression so severe Yoongi understands the presence of genes. “It’s new like I said.”
“I’m not asking you to marry him,” she snorts, getting back to the knitting, while his father nods again. “What’s his name?”
Oh shit. This is what he gets for blurting things out without planning for consequences. And then it hits him, especially with his mother’s marriage comment. “It’s Seokjin. Kim Seokjin.”
“Oh, a Korean!” She squeals, her approval simmering on the surface of her skin. “That’s wonderful. How did you meet?”
Yoongi can’t stop. “Through an app,” he bullshits, praying to the gods. He’s not religious, but he is agnostic (sometimes) so it should work. “I don’t know much about him.”
His mother, understandably, looks confused. “What sort of app is this?”
“A blind date type of arrangement—don’t check it out!” Yoongi exclaims when she whips out her phone. Leave it to Yoongi to make his fake story specific enough that some app will pop up. He does not want her to see the insane amount of flaccid dicks hanging out like it’s a normal Tuesday. “We’ve, uh, met once. So far, I like him.”
Why is he digging himself into an even bigger hole than there is? He doesn’t even like half the men on Grindr. It’s all pretentious; none of them can click good photos—nude or otherwise—and the bios are some variations of sex that makes for an all too exhausting experience. Why is the market so disgusting for gays?
Scratch all of that—Yoongi doesn’t even know Seokjin. Someone he offered on the platter akin to a sacrificial object.
His mother doesn’t care, unaware of the crisis building in his head. “That’s an interesting…courtship method,” she hums. She wouldn’t have said that or even insisted if his brother had presented the same issue with a girl. “Well, if you like him— and you hardly ever like someone—we’d still want to meet him. Maybe he can come for that lunch we’re preparing for Geumjae and his fiancée.”
Let it be known that usually, Yoongi is a genius. He has many hobbies, loves learning things and is a curious person. At that moment, however—he signs away his self-attributed genius for the stupidest thing he’s ever done.
“Sure,” he says, swallowing down all his protests when he sees how happy she looks. Did she really worry that much? It doesn’t make sense when Yoongi’s always been the problem child, aloof and distant, doing the bare minimum to keep in touch—though his relationship has improved significantly over the past couple of years.
He is extra careful with them for the rest of the visit.
“You did what?” Jimin asks, and Yoongi swats the back of his head for the nth time—to no avail, given how the brat is chuckling away. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Signed up for a magic trick where I have to procure a boyfriend out of thin air,” Yoongi grumbles, dipping a finger into the samgyetang, wrinkling his nose at the lack of ginger. Too much chicken. “Don’t give me grief about it. I’ve already had three breakdowns.”
“Ah, yes: pretending to cover tears under shower water,” Jimin crows, uncovering the rice cooker and scooping out bowls of fresh rice. The steam mists his gigantic glasses. “Hyung, I love you and I think you’re the smartest man alive but—this is gold.”
“I called you over to help me,” Yoongi pouts, making Jimin coo in response. “Did you not hear me? I have to come up with a boyfriend ASAP. My parents and brother are expecting him for lunch in two weeks.”
“Of course, hyung, I’ll volunteer,” Jimin says, tearing into the chicken like a wild animal. “That’s not even a question to ask.”
Yoongi stares at him. Then he sighs. Why, god, why? “They know you, idiot.”
“Oh.” Jimin blinks, mouth slightly open to show the half-chewed morsels. Disgusting. Yoongi feeds him some more just in case. “That’s an issue.”
“Yep.”
“I’m sure I can find someone for you,” Jimin offers, and it’s a good suggestion. Jimin knows a lot of people. “It’s just a date, right? Plenty of takers, especially with your bubble butt.”
“Yeah, but I already told my mom a name.”
“So they can take the fake name, no biggie.”
“It’s Korean.”
“Okay, fuck you,” Jimin says sweetly, placing his chopsticks down exasperatedly. “Seriously? I thought you were a good bull-shitter.”
“I thought so, too,” Yoongi mourns, squeezing his eyes with his fists. He wants to say he hates himself but after his last therapy session, that can’t happen. “I have no one to blame but myself. It sucks.”
They stew in silence, the occasional sound of ripping the chicken and blowing at the hot pieces. Yoongi stirs the soup listlessly when Jimin slaps the table in excitement. He spills some of the chilli sauce on his shirt. “Hyung!”
“Yah!” Yoongi curses, picking up the shirt and sucking it off. Jimin wrinkles his nose. “What?”
“Hyung, you do have someone.”
“Who.”
“That guy who proposed to you!” Jimin says excitedly, and all of a sudden, Yoongi's life is bright. The sun is shining again, the world is a happier place. How had Yoongi not jumped immediately to it? He’d even used his name! “Provided he’s Korean, of course.”
“He is,” Yoongi says, hands shaking. Life is a hopeful thing. It’s bright, and there are endless possibilities. “Oh, Jimin. You are a genius.”
Jimin preens with that, happily munching on the rest of his dinner while Yoongi’s head spins. Maybe he should get back to praying because those seem to work.
♡💍♡
The Scheme
♡💍♡
Seokjin is battling a mind-numbing headache, and all because of the blunder the intern made over the advert they were supposed to put out on the company’s social media.
He’s usually a chill guy. Likes being approachable, funny and wise beyond his years without the stuffy hierarchy politics and whatnot. Seokjin’s a well-liked person in the company, so he doesn’t want to scream at the intern—but he’s close to it.
This is what happens when one doesn’t get paid enough.
“It’s fine. Just correct these aspects, and have it at my table in an hour’s time,” Seokjin says, sending the intern off. The other members of his team give him a wide berth, and Seokjin can feel them exchanging concerned glances. Some days, being a marketing head is too much work. “I can feel all of you staring. Back to work.”
No one argues with him. He’s not to be messed with.
That’s why the Universe, having a delightful sense of humour, decides to do just that.
“Hello—is Seokjin Kim in office today?”
That voice. It’s lazy, sleepy and firm all at once, and it’s saying his name—
It’s Min Yoongi.
“Ah, yes, this way.” Claire leads the man, and Seokjin sits up. “Seokjin, Yoongi from—”
“From Food Development, hello,” Seokjin jumps in, proceeding to hold a hand out before thinking better of it. He’s not the petty kind, except sometimes. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Yoongi stares at him. Then he looks at everyone else—none of them are doing a good job of minding their business— then looks back at Seokjin. “I wanted to discuss something.”
“Sure, I’m free for a bit,” Seokjin says, tapping his watch like he’s the busiest man on this planet. “What is it?”
“In private.”
Oh, no. Oh no, Yoongi’s going to sue him. Isn’t he? He must have gone to HR and accused Seokjin of using his charms for homophobic reasons. Wait, is wanting to marry someone homophobic?
“Private?” Seokjin confirms, and Yoongi nods tersely. He crosses his arms. “Okay…”
Yoongi walks out briskly, and Seokjin scampers behind. His small height is deceiving. He certainly has energy Seokjin hadn’t been anticipating.
They exit the premises of the office—all the way to the empty spot in the parking lot, the one smokers like huddling in during winter. There are two stragglers, who nod before continuing. Yoongi walks even further.
“Are you going to tell me what this is about…?” Seokjin prompts after a while, watching Yoongi bite his rather pouty lips.
Yoongi takes his own sweet time. Then he meets Seokjin’s gaze straight on, determination searing into his being. “Okay. Yes. I will marry you.”
Seokjin chokes on empty air.
Yoongi looks alarmed the more Seokjin coughs, thumping his chest and most definitely turning red. He can’t help it though, his brain is a mass of scrambled eggs. “Seokjin-ssi?!”
“Just give me—” Seokjin wheezes, holding his waist. “A moment.” Wheeze. “Okay. Wow. Okay. That was not cool.”
“Are you okay? Do you need—I don’t know, water?” Yoongi asks, eyes wide—which still don’t help with the size of them. How can a man be so tiny?
“Husband of the year award right there,” Seokjin jokes, then winces. “I’m sorry. I joke when I can’t comprehend situations.”
“That’s okay. Came out of nowhere.” Yoongi crosses his arms again, curling into himself. “I should probably explain.”
Seokjin puts his hands in his pockets. “Probably. Since you rejected me so rudely.”
“Anyone would have done that.”
“My fragile heart was shattered. Shattered, I tell you.”
“Stop, the dramatics is putting me off,” Yoongi says, wrinkling his nose though Seokjin swears there’s a twitch in his lips. “Okay, so. Shattered hearts aside—I had a deep moment of self-reflection.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And I have decided I need your services,” Yoongi says, face so serious Seokjin doesn’t know what to make of it. “That makes you sound like an escort.”
“I’d make a hot one,” Seokjin shrugs, and there is it again, that twitch. Or maybe he’s hallucinating from the minor lack of oxygen he experienced right now. “What changed?”
“My brother is getting married. My mother is concerned about my single status and I can tell that she thinks being gay is equal to being loveless.”
“Harsh, dude.”
“Yeah, and as you must have pieced together from eavesdropping,” Yoongi says, levelling Seokjin with an unimpressed glance. “I need a plus one for the wedding.”
“Ah, so it’s a need situation now?”
“I took pity on my parents and dug myself a grave which now requires a boyfriend,” Yoongi says, sighing. It’s the familiar suffering of a fellow Asian that makes Seokjin drop his cold guard. He recognises that look oh-too-well. “Considering your proposal, I thought it consensual enough to drop your name as my potential partner.”
“I love when people use me,” Seokjin beams, enjoying the suffering in Yoongi’s eyes. “Sure. I’m game.”
“Just like that?”
“Obviously, I want something in return,” Seokjin says, rubbing his hands. He can feel the way Yoongi subtly increases his aura to Max Protection. “My turn to explain.”
“Ah, yes. The part where you proposed to a random man,” Yoongi says dryly, and Seokjin blushes. It’s still part of his top ten cringe moments. “I’m pretty but that’s a first for me.”
Seokjin blinks. Yoongi says it so casually, without the flamboyance that Seokjin has bred into his personality. And he’s right. It’s not the conventional handsomeness; Yoongi is…eerily pretty. Otherworldly, dainty looking and unique. He doesn’t want to make assumptions about gay men, though, so he will respectfully keep these opinions to himself.
He presents his pitch. “Did you know the company pays married gay men more than the average employee?”
Silence. The air is pregnant with it, the birds freeze and then—
“What the fuck? What the actual fuck?” Yoongi exclaims, fists tiny and posture rigid. “What?”
“Yep,” Seokjin says, letting him stew in it. He can see the wheels turning in Yoongi’s head, and can taste the victory on his tongue. “So you see why—”
“Oh, hell yes, I respect that,” Yoongi says, lips set into a firm line. His eyes are narrowed. “So not an experiment?”
“With all due respect, you’re gorgeous but I just don’t swing that way.”
“A straight man wouldn’t call another man gorgeous.”
“I have eyes,” Seokjin says, rolling them for effect, and Yoongi’s cheek goes pink. Adorable! “So, yeah. I could have gone about it in a better way but well. I saw the opportunity and took it.”
Yoongi nods. “As I said, Seokjin-ssi—I respect the hustle.” There are a few more moments of silence. “Okay. So what’s the plan?”
“I’m glad you asked!” Seokjin crows, attracting the gaze of the two smokers. He edges closer to Yoongi, crowding him. Might as well begin selling the act from day one. “We get married in City Hall. It costs $84; we split that. Get our affairs in order, go to HR and present the documents. Boom, we get a raise next month onwards.”
“I still can’t believe they’d do something like this,” Yoongi mutters darkly. He looks ready to burst a vein.
“Does it, ah, offend your sensibilities?”
“Of course. It’s kind of dehumanising, isn’t it?”
Seokjin balances himself on his heels. “So you don’t agree with the plan…?”
“God, no, that’s a brilliant plan,” Yoongi snorts, fluffing up his hair. Wow, it’s quite silky looking in the sun. What product does he use? “I’m in.”
“Wait. Seriously?”
“Were you expecting a no?” Yoongi asks point blank. Seokjin had been. He’s asking someone to commit a crime, essentially. A practical fraud. They could get fired for this.
“Yoongi-ssi, it’s no light manner,” Seokjin warns, just to make sure. Suddenly, with Yoongi’s agreement—the fantasy seems real. “We’re talking fraud.”
“Yes.”
“Crime. Illegal activities and stealing from the company,” Seokjin says, alarmed at how unfazed Yoongi seems. “That’s okay with you?”
“The fact that they’re paying married gay people more in itself should be a crime. What kind of favour is that?”
Seokjin blinks. “Isn’t it a benefit after decades of being marginalised?”
“Big words from a straight man,” Yoongi says, impressed. “Sure, it’s a benefit to some. I think it’s an act of pity. Of using us for brownie points. Because being paid more still doesn’t stop the fact that we’re treated like shit anyway.”
“Right.”
“Though it does help with the therapy fees,” Yoongi hums, stroking his chin. Seokjin is amazed. Has he found…his chaotic equal at last? “Great. In return, you’ll pretend to be my boyfriend?”
“Yoongi-ssi, we’ll literally be married,” Seokjin deadpans. Yoongi smiles for the first time and—wow. Those are some nice set of teeth. Seokjin needs the address of his dentist. “Boyfriend is juvenile.”
“It’s what my parents what to hear.”
“Done and done. I’ll win them over with my effortless good looks and charm,” Seokjin winks, and Yoongi grins even wider. It’s adorable. “So…how do we do this?”
“Let’s get our affairs in order, research some more—and by next week, we can go ahead with the ceremony.”
Okay. Seokjin can do that. “Sounds good. Any witnesses?”
“I can ask my friend.”
“I’ll ask my cousin. Just in case.”
Yoongi nods. The silence enters again, but for once it’s not awkward. Seokjin doesn’t know Yoongi well, but he’s certainly not what he’d imagined.
“Do you think we should ask someone from the office, too?” Seokjin asks. He wants to cover all of his bases. “You know, in case people question why we’re suddenly married.”
“That’s easy. Office love, queer people, the fear for our lives and wanting to keep things private for safety,” Yoongi lists, shrugging without a worry. Huh. “But sure. We can have someone if you want. Anyone in mind?”
“I do, but before that—how did you come up with a story so fast?”
“What can I say, love has made me brave,” Yoongi says, his face devoid of emotion as he stares Seokjin straight in the eye—and then chuckles when Seokjin keeps blinking. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun. You look so nervous!”
“I am a little,” Seokjin admits, poking his cheek slightly instead of scratching it. “It’s changing the status quo, isn’t it?”
“For an extra zero at the end of your paycheque? It’s worth it,” Yoongi says. He checks his watch, before cursing. “Fuck, I forgot the hung curd in the freezer—excuse me. It’s been good talking with you, Seokjin-ssi.”
“Same here, Yoongi-ssi. To marriage.”
Yoongi salutes as he waddles away. It’s cute.
♡💍♡
<To: [email protected]>
<From: [email protected]>
Subject: I don’t have your contact, gorgeous
Hey,
Gentle reminder to give me your contact information.
Warm Regards,
Seokjin Kim,
Head, Marketing and Sales, Galant Food
<To: [email protected]>
<From: [email protected]>
Subject: Re: I don’t have your contact, gorgeous
Hi.
Stop talking like a corporate douche
And don’t call me gorgeous in professional settings
Enclosed below are my contact details
Min Yoongi: (xxx) xxx-xxxx
Regards,
Yoongi Min,
Research Head, Food Development Team 1, Galant Food
♡💍♡
You were so mean in the email
Husband <3
“Gentle reminders.”
“Warm regards.”
I will divorce you if you ever talk like that again
So what I’m hearing is you won’t divorce me if I call you gorgeous?
Husband <3
.
:D
Wow, this feels weird
Does it feel weird?
Husband <3
That by next week I’ll be married to you?
I guess. Mostly my eyes are on the prize.
Who knew you were such a gold digger, Min Yoongi
Husband <3
You did
That’s why you chose me
Now leave me alone, I have food to burn
Bye
One day
When I die, then you will realise.
Husband <3
Seriously, fuck off.
♡💍♡
We Got Married!
♡💍♡
Boyfriend secured, Yoongi carves out the next stage of his plan.
“Why are we being so serious about this again?” Jimin asks as they go through all of Yoongi’s tax records, and any anomalies in the past year or so. He’s gotten out the basketball pictures from high school, as well as the baby pictures. “It’s just a fake husband.”
“Do you understand the legal shit I’m about to dump right now,” Yoongi mutters, cross-checking that all of his finances are in order. “I can go to jail for this.”
“I don’t see how. You’re legally marrying Seokjin-ssi, you realise that, right?” Jimin asks, and Yoongi stops short. Huh. He is, isn’t he? It’s going to be real on paper. “Last time I checked, no one said you had to be legally in love for a marriage to be valid.”
That’s a great point. “Still, he’s not gay.”
“Oh, big deal. People lie all the time,” Jimin says, picking through his baby albums. “Gosh, hyung, you were so cute. What happened to you?”
“I got swallowed by the existential void in my heart.”
“Yep, good luck to Seokjin-ssi for handling that,” Jimin snorts. He plops himself onto the couch. “So, when is the wedding?”
“This Friday afternoon.”
“That’s…fast.”
“According to our conscience, we have been together for about…two years now,” Yoongi says, spinning the story. It’ll be tough, keeping track of two stories— one to tell the company, one to tell his mother. “We kept quiet about it. Inspired by my brother’s wedding, however, I decided Seokjin is the one and proposed.”
Jimin’s staring with his mouth open. “Did you just come up with that on the spot?”
“Original and fresh,” Yoongi says, grinning. He’s always liked creating stories in his head. “Didn’t even have to try.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re a genius,” Jimin says, rolling his eyes. “Also, you’re the one who proposed?”
“Seokjin is a shy man, while I’m more action-oriented.”
“Now that’s just a lie.”
“My entire marriage is a lie, Jimin, get with the program,” Yoongi deadpans, dusting his hand. “I won’t be telling that to my mom, though.”
“Why not?”
“I just met Seokjin. I can’t give her the shock of life by informing her I was married the whole time.”
Jimin nods like he gets it (he most probably does not) and continues picking at the hole in his jeans, scrolling through his phone. Yoongi cleans up, prepares lunch and serves it to Jimin. His conversations with Seokjin remain sparse. This is a business proposal, with mutual benefits.
“How is Seokjin like, though?” Jimin asks midway through eating, mouth stuffed with a dumpling. Yoongi puts one more on his plate just in case.
“He’s alright. A little strange,” Yoongi says, breaking apart his tonkatsu in half. “A bit…loud? Speaks like he has no filter.”
“Perfect for you,” Jimin jokes, dodging the balled-up napkin Yoongi throws his way. “This is so weird, hyung. You’re getting married.”
“I know. The little bird flies the coop.”
“Sure. They’re really paying gay people more?”
“Yeah, it’s a fuck-all policy,” Yoongi mutters, still upset by the provision. He’s taking advantage of it because he’d be an idiot not to, but it’s still upsetting that something like this is even a thing at all. “Like what are they trying to do by paying us more?”
“Dunno, but ass does pay,” Jimin says, giggling when Yoongi glares. “So let me get this straight.”
“That’s the only thing you’ll ever get straight.”
“To your company, you and Seokjin-ssi have been secretly dating. While you’ve been out for years, Seokjin-ssi has kept quiet, which is why it would come as a surprise.”
“Yes.”
“But to your mom, you and Seokjin recently met, are not married and figuring things out.”
“Exactly.”
Jimin leans back, before opening his jeans button. “Wow, hyung. Gotta give it to you. That is complicated.”
“Nothing I haven’t handled before,” Yoongi says, confident that he can run with the plan. Sure, there would be hitches on the journey—he’s pragmatic that way. He’ll still be able to handle that. “I just have to make sure I have enough backstories available to foresee any potential issues.”
“You’ve really thought this through.”
“I’m nothing if not thorough,” Yoongi says with a smile, and Jimin shakes his head with fondness.
Just then, his phone buzzes.
Kim Seokjin-ssi
Marriage time is fixed
4:30 p.m., City Hall
Dress in your best tuxedo, husband dear.
Yoongi smiles. It’s a strange personality, but one he can get used to. “Hey, Jimin?”
“Hmm?”
“You got a tux I can borrow?”
♡💍♡
And so—one fine Friday afternoon, Kim Seokjin, born in San Francisco, California to two South Korean immigrants from Gwacheon, South Korea— marries the man of his dreams— Min Yoongi, born in Daegu, South Korea, and resident of San Francisco, California for the past fifteen years.
It’s a small, no-nonsense event. On Seokjin’s side, Taehyung and Hoseok attend— that had been a wild tale in itself— and on Yoongi’s, it’s his close friend, Park Jimin. They attend their appointment, say their vows and choose to hold hands instead of kiss—and boom. They’re married.
It’s a surreal feeling.
“This calls for a celebration!” Taehyung announces gleefully, dressed in a flamboyant outfit of a floral jacket and yellow chino pants that should be ugly but look striking on his cousin. As most things do. Seokjin appreciates that about him, and Jimin definitely seems to. “Not every day your cousin gets fake—”
“We don’t need drinks, Taehyung’s energy is enough!” Seokjin exclaims while Taehyung flails behind his hand. “Maybe ice cream?”
“I’m good with that!” Hoseok says, though he still carries a confused expression with him. As far as most people had known in the office, Seokjin was straight as a ruler. “I know a place nearby.”
Yoongi has been suspiciously quiet—Seokjin is bursting with nerves and energy, while Yoongi went through it like it was normal. He’ll need to play a round of Mario Kart to get it all out.
They end up at the ice cream shop, each having their own flavours—Jimin sits next to Taehyung, subtly trying to check him out and failing to be subtle about it. He reddens every time Taehyung licks at his cone, and Seokjin is a little scandalised.
Hoseok is speaking about something, and Yoongi is right next to him. He leans in suddenly, close enough to Seokjin’s ear that he startles. “He’s being so obvious about it, isn’t he?”
Seokjin glances once again towards the scene of the crime. “Is it always this intense?”
“Jimin is very, hmm, loud about his interests,” Yoongi says, watching as Taehyung participates enthusiastically in Hoseok’s conversation. “That one alright?”
“He is my cousin.”
“So a red flag, then.”
“Excuse me?” Seokjin fires back, unimpressed but Yoongi’s grinning. He’s got an elvish persona around him. “I’ll have you know, I’m an exemplary human being, except for the not-gay part. That’s unfortunate.”
“It is,” Yoongi nods, eating his cone with a spoon. “I see them getting together.”
“Taehyung and Jimin?”
“100%.”
“Why is that?”
“Once Jimin sets his eyes on someone, he will follow through. It’s scary.”
It does seem that way. Jimin’s pressed close to Taehyung, looking at him from under hooded eyes—and Seokjin’s known Taehyung long enough to identify the signs of fluster taking hold.
“Why not choose Jimin as your boyfriend?” Seokjin whispers, aware of Hoseok in the vicinity.
“My parents know him. He was my neighbour,” Yoongi adds when Seokjin raises an eyebrow. “In any other circumstance, I might have. I simply bull-shitted too well, and created a whole new person for them.”
“A pity.”
“Ah, to be so clever that you are your own downfall.”
“Please don’t speak that way, you remind me of Namjoon,” Seokjin says, and Yoongi smiles. It’s not a visible smile at all; driven deep into the grooves of his skin and not meant for the naked eye.
They eat their ice creams in silence. Seokjin stares at the simple gold ring on his wedding finger. It’s there, cold and shiny. He really went through with his plan. As of today, he is married. To another man, even. It can’t get more hare-brained than this.
“So first course of action,” Seokjin says later after they part ways with Hoseok and wait on the sidewalk for Yoongi’s cab. “Lunch with your parents?”
“Wouldn’t the work week come before that?” Yoongi asks, and again, Seokjin is glad he’s found someone so sensible to keep track of the upcoming chaos in their lives. “Or do you wish to keep quiet until after that?”
“Please, with Hoseok as the witness? I expect emails in another hour,” Seokjin says. “Yeah, let’s go to HR first thing Monday, and tell them.”
“I have the story ready,” Yoongi says, and man if that isn’t the sexist thing Seokjin has heard today. He loves it when people have their shit together. “We have been secretly dating for two years.”
Seokjin opens a packet of honey butter chips he always keeps on his person. “Go on.”
“You took some time to come to terms with your sexuality. We didn’t really know each other, and you didn’t know where to start—but you knew I was queer. So you reached out. All you wanted was…research.”
“Okay, I’m feeling this.”
“In the process of helping you, you started developing feelings for me. I, Min Yoongi, had always harboured a gigantic crush on you.”
“Oh, my.”
“We danced around each other for a bit, and then you confessed. You weren’t comfortable with telling everyone because people were always too intrusive. However, you had a life-threatening…allergy.”
“Works. I have one with garlic,” Seokjin adds. Yoongi stops short.
“Garlic? How the fuck do you eat Korean food?”
“I face my allergies like a man and suffer through it.”
“Okay, don’t take this the wrong way but that was very hot to hear,” Yoongi says, gaze interested. It gives an ego boost to Seokjin. Hell yeah, he pulls it with the gays, too. “Alright, so. Admitted to the ER after a particularly nasty battle with garlic.”
“Is that right.”
“Your throat swelled up, you went all purple in the face. You passed out for twenty-four hours—and when you woke up, you told me you’d seen God, and he’d asked you to marry me.”
Seokjin wipes a tear. “I absolutely see myself doing this.”
“I’ve always wanted to settle with you, there was no one else,” Yoongi says, his voice suddenly soft. So are his eyes, and it freaks Seokjin out a little because wow, it’s a look. “You didn’t want to wait a moment. And so, we got married as soon as possible. The end.”
It’s silent again—until it’s broken by clapping on Taehyung’s end. Jimin’s sniffling into a tissue next to him. “That was like watching a movie! Hyungs, even I believed it.”
“You believe in a lot of things, Taehyung,” Seokjin says, pushing his hair back to hide his trembling hands. The story was good, maybe too good. Even Seokjin is inclined to believe it. Yoongi is brilliant. “I must say, Yoongi-ssi. I’m impressed.”
Yoongi smirks in a self-satisfied manner before the taxi comes by and he proceeds to get in. Jimin joins him, but before they leave, Yoongi rolls down the window and says, in that same self-satisfied manner— “Good night, jagiya. Sweet dreams.”
Seokjin is left on the sidewalk with a strange stutter in his heart.
♡💍♡
Scam #1: Throwing Dust in Corporate’s Eyes
♡💍♡
True to his prediction, when Seokjin enters the office Monday morning—he’s received with an explosion of curious questions.
“Is it true?” Moonbyul hisses in the elevator, watching Seokjin with hawk eyes while he jabs the floor number.
“Is what true?”
“Are you—are you married to that guy from the research team?”
Seokjin barely holds in a smile. “Which guy? You’d need to be specific.”
Moonbyul narrows her eyes. “Min Yoongi-ssi.”
“Oh, yeah.”
It’s a comfortable silence accompanied by the occasional melodies of the elevator music—before she smacks Seokjin’s arm. “What the hell?!”
“Oh yeah? Oh yeah?” Moonbyul shrieks, incensed beyond belief. This wasn’t the reaction Seokjin had been expecting. “You’re single and suddenly you’re not only gay but also married?!”
“Coming out is not easy, Moonbyul-ah!” Seokjin yelps, as she smacks him again—stopping when the doors open and a couple of other employees enter. Seokjin steps to the side and avoids her murderous gaze. “Ah, this is my floor—I’ll see you later.”
Except Moonbyul gets off too, her nails nearly piercing through his suit jacket. “Not so fast, champ. You’re buying me a coffee and telling me everything.”
Seokjin’s glad he wrote a story with Yoongi beforehand.
As expected, Hoseok had gone and blabbed to whoever was listening about Seokjin’s miraculous “conversion” (big cringe points for that one). He spun a tale so grand, Seokjin is going to have to do damage control. He’s sure the Americans wouldn’t blink an eye except curl a lip (maybe) at yet another gay employee cashing in on their generous offer—but the Korean faction? Yeah, it’s going to be a field day.
“So you’ve been…gay?” Moonbyul asks, her mouth open around a spoon. “All this while?”
“I mean, I guess that’s how identities work?” Seokjin says, cursing himself for not studying Gay 101 from his cousins. “I always felt off. Like, I’m okay with both. I think? But gay makes more…sense.”
Moonbyul nods, eyebrows furrowed. “And dating Min Yoongi?”
“Ah, what can I say,” Seokjin builds bashfully, curling into himself and willing the blood to rush to his cheeks. Sadly, they go towards his ears. “It was an ignorant accident which resulted in the best decision of my life.”
“Ignorant?”
“Yeah, I didn’t know anything,” Seokjin starts, pausing when his phone buzzes. It’s from Yoongi, and he smiles. Hope you’re having a blast making the straights turn. It’s so simple yet thrilling. “And at the time I knew only Yoongi as the openly queer guy so…I sought him out. He wasn’t pleased. But then he took pity on me, and helped me out with resources.”
“That’s sweet of him.”
“Yeah, and I guess since he was, like, my gay guru or whatever, I had a pathetic student crush on him. And one day I confessed. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“He rejects you.”
“Right, and I would have never recovered, obviously,” Seokjin says, shuddering at the fake hypothetical. Though technically, it did happen. “But turned out—he had a crush on me! Can you believe it?”
“Hate to break it to you, buddy, but lots of people have a crush on you,” Moonbyul says dryly, and Seokjin blushes for real. “So you guys dated after?”
“Yeah, it was a no-brainer. We decided to keep it completely separate from our work lives—we didn’t know how it would be received, or if I was ready to be out publicly.”
“So it’s been there for…”
“Two years and counting,” Seokjin sighs. They’d have to keep this ruse up until either of them left the company—and Seokjin is nothing if not committed. “The marriage was a random decision, though one I’ll never regret.”
Moonbyul opens her mouth to ask how, and Seokjin is willing to tell the dumb garlic allergy story—but breakfast hour finishes, and he bids goodbye, promising her details later.
He hopes he never has to. That had to be the single most stressful event of his life. Seokjin walks out, heart in his throat but a spring in his step as he begins a new work day.
Visiting Yoongi at lunch hour seems like an obvious thing to do. Even though Seokjin has never visited the other—he thinks it adds a nice touch to their roles. The besotted husband trying to catch up at work, sharing lunch like a couple of newlyweds.
Yoongi is not as impressed though.
“Why are you here?” He hisses, still adorning his lab coat, eyeglasses smushing his hair and gloved hands dotted with minced meat. Oh, what a sight for sore eyes. “This isn’t your department!”
“Relax, husband dear, I bring homemade tteokboki,” Seokjin says, dangling a container like he’s brought a present for Christmas. Jimin had informed him that it was one of Yoongi’s favourite dishes. “Take a break and enjoy. You’ll never get this anywhere else.”
“I can make my own tteokboki,” Yoongi says deadpanned, still making meatballs and placing them on a stick. Internally, Seokjin thinks of a selling advert. Meat on a stick! Make sure it doesn’t go up your ass! Wait, maybe that is homophobic. “But thank you, I guess.”
They make to sit at his desk, meticulously arranged (who would have thought) and Yoongi doesn’t waste any time digging into it—the only indication that he enjoys the dish is how he curls into himself, his cheeks puffing. Cute.
Seokjin’s so lost in assessing him, he forgets that there are other people in the room—and they’re all staring at him. “Anything the matter?”
Yoongi groans as one of the workers points a finger. “Husband?”
Oh. Right. They weren’t openly friends before, and that’s an unfortunate regret.
So Seokjin raises his left hand, brandishing his ring—24-carat gold, and nothing less—before Yoongi slaps his hand in an overly familiar way. And Seokjin—he pouts.
Okay, he’s getting way too comfortable already. “What?”
“Don’t show it off, then they’ll ask more questions and I am not in the mood,” Yoongi grumbles, and unlike Seokjin’s team, Yoongi’s is far more respectful (or afraid, more likely) of asking the same questions they’re burning to ask. “Everyone, either have your lunch or get back to work.”
The shocking part is, Yoongi’s team listens.
“How did you do that,” Seokjin whispers, too shocked to comprehend this simple display of power. Maybe he’s been too nice to his hoobaes due to a terrible affliction of wanting to be in their good books but this… “I could never.”
“You probably do, it just looks different from mine,” Yoongi shrugs, munching on a rice cake. “Gotta say, hyung—this is really good.”
All of Seokjin warms up at the simple honorific— he’s used to it plenty from his cousin and even some office colleagues—yet this term raises some fondness for the man. Who knew marriages could be that effective? “Thank you. I slaved over it all morning.”
Yoongi gasps, and it’s clear he’s faking it. “What? Oh no, hyung. You work too hard.”
“Only the best for my best,” Seokjin coos, wanting to pinch Yoongi’s cheeks but instinctively knowing it’s not how Yoongi works. He’s a man of words. “If anyone works the hardest, it’s you, jagiya.”
“Okay, what the hell,” the intern—her name tag says Sana— mutters, looking between the two of them. “That’s so fucking cute.”
“Back to the lobsters, Sana,” Yoongi reprimands softly, and Sana whines. “You have too much to catch up on.”
“But Yoongi-oppa! You can’t expect me to sit here and work when the greatest romance story of my life is waiting to be watched!”
Fair point. Seokjin turns towards Yoongi, raising an eyebrow—and Yoongi sighs, exasperation bleeding into his fox eyes. It’s all very intense and Seokjin can hold it for only a moment before he turns away. Sana seems like a sweet kid. “What would you like to know?”
“Hyung, don’t—”
“Ah, Yoongi-chi, the younglings want to know,” Seokjin fires away, then pauses. Yoongi blinks at him, and he understands. Huh. “It’s okay. I’ll handle it. I’m in Sales for a reason.”
Yoongi shrugs, getting back to his tteokboki while Seokjin barely manages to keep the nickname panic at bay. Yoongi-chi? What the hell was that?
Sana takes the centre stage. “Tell me everything!” She sits wide-eyed and expectant, and Seokjin is endeared. He dons his best story-telling expression.
Then he proceeds to tell the garlic allergy story.
Seokjin’s ears are red and Yoongi is clearly having the time of his life behind the food container. Sana, meanwhile, looks vaguely intrigued and concerned.
“You proposed to him because you had an allergy attack?” She asks, incredulous. Seokjin spreads his hands.
“You reach Death’s door and be given a second chance to fix your miserable life, then talk!” Seokjin exclaims, and Sana blushes, fumbling with her hands. “I refuse to die before making an honest man out of Yoongi!”
“Seokjin-hyung!” Yoongi hisses, though his eyes tell a different story. “Careful. We could get reported to HR.”
“Nah, they love me too much,” Seokjin says, sitting back after a successful excursion. It was pretty easy this time around, compared to the morning mayhem. “So, yeah. I got married to the man I love because of a garlic allergy.”
“You need to stop reciting it that way,” Yoongi cuts in, rolling his eyes. “Is everyone satisfied? Because we have a huge order to fulfil and my husband can’t distract me.”
“Impossible. Have a reasonable goal, yeobo,” Seokjin trills, enjoying this way too much. “There’s that part left about—”
“Get out,” Yoongi says quietly, sweetly, and Seokjin is in awe again. “I’ll see you later for the—Thing.”
“Right. The Thing.” Seokjin doesn’t know what the Thing is but he nods in understanding anyway. Husbands need to be supportive first, and logical later. Yoongi catches on, sighing though his lips twitch. Seokjin leans into his ear. “Remind me again?”
“HR. The documents.”
“Ah, yes, the Thing!!” Seokjin exclaims, jolting the others in surprise. He apologises. “I’ll get going, then.”
He jets out of the room faster than lightning—preparing for the next stage of their Scam, and absolutely avoiding the Nickname Debacle, or how—natural it felt to call Yoongi ‘yeobo’.
♡💍♡
Seokjin is many things. He’s the definition of a ‘jack of all trades, master of none’ brought to life, and he’s absolutely okay with that. He’s above average (except in looks, phew), leads a respectable life and has it all (not that one Pokémon, though).
What he isn’t is anxious. He prides himself in taking life as it comes, letting it surprise him and making the most of it. An opportunist to the core, as Namjoon says. Seokjin likes that word.
He doesn’t quite like breaking into nervous sweats as he paces in front of the HR office, waiting for Yoongi to arrive and kick off their grand plan.
“You look like you’re about to shit bricks,” is the first thing Yoongi says when he finally does arrive. He looks great, by which Seokjin means— a stoic face, smushed hair and what looks suspiciously like blood stains on his lab coat. Seokjin doesn’t want to know. “Ready?”
“Not in the slightest,” Seokjin admits, clutching the folder like his life depended on it. Once they go in and present their case, it is going to real. Seokjin is going to be a fraudulent criminal. “You can’t see it but my pits are wet under this coat jacket.”
Yoongi wrinkles his nose. “And you’re telling me this because…?”
“We’re married now, duh,” Seokjin says, though secretly he wonders, too. Why did he say that? Up until a week ago, Yoongi was a stranger to him. “Sorry. It’s nerves. I had no idea I could get affected by them.”
He expects Yoongi to point out how he’s a human being and such things are normal—but no. Instead, Yoongi inhales, grabs Seokjin by the shoulder and stares him down (well, up, since he’s short). Even then, he’s looking a little past Seokjin’s shoulder. “Listen to me, hyung. Are you listening?”
“Uh-huh.”
“We’re going to be fine. You’re going to be fine. We’ve not done anything wrong, so what’s the big deal?”
“Well, actually—”
“Okay, sure, there are some—ah, discrepancies—but eyes on the prize, hyung,” Yoongi says. His hands are quite firm on Seokjin’s shoulders and warm. “We’re only taking advantage of the system. As we should. Capitalism would want this.”
“I don’t think that’s how capitalism works—”
“Modern problems require modern solutions,” Yoongi presses, and Seokjin understands at last what Yoongi’s doing: battling his own anxiety by taking care of Seokjin’s. It’s a thoughtful gesture. “Now—we go in there, we tell them how we fell in love, and we get that damn raise. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good.” Yoongi backs away, facing the door. “You do the talking. You’re good at it.”
“I am?”
“You’re the Head of Sales and Marketing, Seokjin-ssi, wake up,” Yoongi hisses, and it’s effective because Seokjin does. Yes, what is he doing, having anxiety? That’s lame and unacceptable. “I’ll provide details whenever required.”
It’s a solid plan, and anyhow—Seokjin doesn’t get stressed by surprises. He likes a bit of chaos, so—he pushes his shoulders back and faces forward, determined. “Okay. Time to get the money, bitches.”
“Okay, maybe don’t say that while you’re in there.”
“Ah, my bad. Sorry, jagiya.”
Yoongi’s mouth twitches.
♡💍♡
There are certain truths Yoongi has recognised in his twenty-nine years on planet Earth. Another one was added the moment Seokjin had entered the HR with his head held high—and a flourish in his speech.
Above all, Yoongi has a thing for eloquent speakers.
For all his nerves and the near breakdown he had outside, Seokjin presents a case so brilliant, even a professional bullshit detector like Yoongi would have believed him. He’s not surprised when HR is more than willing to accept their union instead of the inquisition he had been expecting.
“This is wonderful news, Seokjin and Yoongi,” Maria, the HR head, says with a warm smile. “I’m glad the two of you had the courage to go ahead. I would also like to offer my apologies if the office space was in any way unsafe for you.”
“Oh, not at all, Maria, goodness,” Seokjin laughs, clearly fake but winning all the same. It warms Yoongi’s bones, and it clearly affects Maria as well. “Galant has always been a welcoming place. I simply wanted to deal with it privately—and Yoongi has been a strong support system the whole time.”
“That he is. He keeps the Food Development Team standing,” Maria gushes, and Yoongi shrugs. He does, but also, he’s not fond of being perceived so much. This is a lot of attention. “It’s organised of you both to approach us so soon.”
“We know you want to be kept aware of any in-office relationships,” Seokjin says, crossing his legs and sitting primly. Yoongi tries to fix his posture subtly. “Now that it’s official and I am in a better space, I insisted that the company be aware.”
“I feel confident in speaking on behalf of Galant that we appreciate the honesty,” Maria says. “Congratulations on your marriage. I hope it’s a long and happy union.”
Well, until one of us leaves the organisation, Yoongi thinks, before the thought of the scam carrying on for years enters his mind. Holy crap. What if neither of them leaves and they have to keep their guards up for the rest of their work lives? Wait, what if his mom expects them to actually get married? Yoongi pinches the skin of his wrist before he can spiral even more, refocusing back on the conversation that Seokjin is carrying like a champ. He really is a Sales guy, isn’t he?
Seokjin happily spins a tale without digging them into a bigger hole, and Yoongi is impressed. It takes skill to tell things without telling them. It should have been Seokjin in front of Yoongi’s parents that day; Yoongi’s sure he would have handled the situation a lot better. As it is, they’ve now stumbled into something that benefits them both.
“Speaking of the union,” Maria says after a while of chit-chat, setting aside her cup and leaning forward. “I’m not sure if you were aware of this, but a company has a new policy beginning this year.”
Yoongi doesn’t see as much as he feels Seokjin going full alert, all the while maintaining polite nonchalance. “What is it?”
“We at Galant have been making sure to be as inclusive as ever, and keeping up to date with all practices,” Maria pitches. Yoongi barely holds back a scoff. “It was brought to our notice earlier that though we offered more benefits to married employees, the same was not the case for same-sex couples.”
“Oh. Really?” Seokjin asks, eyes wide.
“Yes. Of course, we believe that as times change, so do our policies. Running a joint home and raising a family are consuming affairs, regardless of the sex of the couples involved. Which is why this year, we decided to include married employees within the LGBTQ+ into the policy as well.”
“That’s—wow. That’s a great move, marketing-wise,” Seokjin exclaims, layering it on thick. “Sorry, ha-ha. I can’t help slipping into the job perspective from time to time.”
“Which is why you’re our most valued employee, Seokjin. If anything, you certainly deserve this raise the most.”
“Oh, Maria, certainly not—”
“It’s a policy. Can’t do anything about it,” Maria grins, shrugging, and Seokjin smiles bashfully. Yoongi is in awe. “I just wanted to let you both know that. You’ve given everything so officially, by next month it should show on your pay slips. I’ll let Accounts know.”
It’s a mark of a great actor that Seokjin doesn’t break character and let out a whoop right there and then. Yoongi had expected that out of his loud-ass personality. Instead, Seokjin grows thoughtful.
“That’s amazing. Thank you, Maria. Just one thing, though.”
“Yes?”
“Is Ken still heading Accounts?”
“Oh, no, Mr. Lee has relocated permanently to our branch in South Korea, in a different role.”
“What!”
“Yes, sadly he had a personal matter to attend to,” Maria says. Right, if chilling with his husband in Jeju Island was personal enough. Yoongi snorts internally. "He won’t be directly interacting with the San Francisco unit at all.”
“Oh, man. And to find out this way,” Seokjin says. “I’d been looking forward to letting him know of this development, that’s why.”
“We can hand over any personal contacts to you, no worries,” Maria smiles warmly. She looks at her iPad and frowns, before smiling again. “Ah, one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“This is more of a favour than an obligation, one Galant would be grateful for if you both agree to it,” Maria starts, and Yoongi’s gut starts tingling. “Given your wonderful story, we were on the lookout for people from the community to occasionally talk about their stories and help all of us update. We want to be an inclusive, safe and accepting space, after all.”
There it is. The one thing Yoongi had avoided like the plague, despite repeated ‘requests’ from the company. He still isn’t inclined towards it—but he sees Seokjin’s wheels turning. He prays the other doesn’t sign them up for something in a ‘straight-person-being-any-ally’ glory, but he keeps quiet.
“That’s a great initiative,” Seokjin starts, and Yoongi’s gut sinks while Maria begins smiling, “but I’ll discuss with my husband—sorry, Yoongi, ha-ha, still feel giddy over that—before committing to anything. Hope that’s okay?”
Maria’s smile is half-frozen; Yoongi’s pretty sure he’s the same in his chair. “I—sure?”
“Amazing. Wow, this was certainly not what I was expecting when I walked in here,” Seokjin exclaims, standing up and patting his suit down. Yoongi hastily follows, keeping quiet and behind the man. What just happened? “Thank you, Maria. You’ve been a champ.”
“Of course, Seokjin. Let me know what you both decide!”
Outside, Seokjin does indeed let out a big whoop. Against his will, Yoongi finds himself wanting to join in. He keeps quiet, though. He has a reputation to maintain.
“I can’t believe how easy that was,” Seokjin whisper-yells, mindful of their surroundings. He sticks close to Yoongi, their backs towards the cameras in front of the HR office. “I’m not dreaming, right? That just happened?”
“Do you enter another zone when you’re speaking or something?” Yoongi asks, walking away from the office towards the elevators. “You were yapping 90% of the time.”
“I prefer shutting off my brain when pitching,” Seokjin says, face reasonably serious. “That way, I can sell without shame.”
“I see. Well, then, congratulations. You sold the story pretty well.”
Seokjin hums in a self-satisfied way as the conversation tapers into a comfortable silence, one that doesn’t make Yoongi want to claw his skin off in awkward anxiety. It’s why he keeps to himself; people freak him out. Especially people like Seokjin, loud and prancing as a peacock—or maybe it’s the ease with which he does it.
Maybe Yoongi’s envious of people like him.
He’s surprised that Seokjin doesn’t fill the space with chatter. They get closer to Yoongi’s floor, and right before it arrives, Seokjin clears his throat. “So, about the next stage.”
“Hmm?”
“When would you like me to, uh, meet your parents?” Seokjin asks, overly polite and…nervous? Interesting. “I mean, it can be at your pace. I just want to be prepared for it.”
Yoongi respects that. “Don’t worry about it. They wanted you over for lunch, so I’m assuming my brother and his wife will also be there.”
“Oh, bother.”
“Before that happens, we’ll meet again to get our stories straight.”
Seokjin presses his lips into a line, his cheeks puffing out. Yoongi can see his mind gears spin and rolls his eyes. “Do it. You’re dying to.”
“I’m really not.”
“Seokjin-ssi, your skin is getting all pink.”
“Gosh, fine! Getting our stories ‘straight’ is hilarious when we’re gay!” Seokjin lets out, before heaving out in relief. “Sorry. I get hives if I don’t make a pun when I see it.”
“Sensitive man, aren’t you?” Yoongi points out, as a general comment, but Seokjin’s cheeks go pink. Oh no. “I meant that in the most non-sexual way possible.”
“I—I know. I totally took it that way, too.” Seokjin’s cheeks are still pink. It’s a pretty colour on him.
“This is my floor,” Yoongi says instead, ignoring it and stepping out. “I’ll text you when to meet by the evening.”
“Okay. Good bye, Yoongi-chi!”
The elevator doors shut before Yoongi can react.
♡💍♡
Scam #2: Meet the Parents
♡💍♡
It was a bad idea to meet Seokjin while Jimin was in the same vicinity. As it is, the evening rush hour on a Friday evening was the only ideal time, and yet, Yoongi is beginning to feel the first tickle of regret build in his stomach.
“Are you sure you’re not queer?” Jimin asks, scrutinising Seokjin up and down. He should be doing his job, emphasis on should. Instead, he’s hogging half the space at their table that Yoongi had specifically requested be away from the rest of the crowd. “You’re way too gorgeous to be straight, man.”
“Thank you. Though beauty is not related to sexuality, last I checked,” Seokjin replies easily, comfortable with the attention. Except his ears are red, and Yoongi’s sure he hasn’t touched his drink yet. “When you asked to meet, the bar was the last place I expected to be summoned.”
“God, he even sounds hot,” Jimin supplies, eyes hazy with interest. What an absolute menace. Why did Yoongi have to be friends with him, again? “Tell me what you want. It’s on the house.”
“Really?” Seokjin looks at the menu, before looking at Jimin. “Are you on the menu, too?”
Yoongi chokes on his beer while Jimin turns a flustered red, a first for him. The funny part is—Seokjin’s taken aback as well. “What the hell, hyung?”
If possible, Jimin swoons even more. “Hyung?! Oh, this is adorable!”
“Get out of here, and get him a beer,” Yoongi snaps, shoving Jimin off his seat. He needs to get this talk out, and alone. When Jimin leaves—with a pout, brat—Yoongi turns to Seokjin. “What the hell was that?”
“I don’t know. I blurt things out sometimes.”
“Only sometimes?”
“Okay, 90% of the time but can you blame me? He is…”
Yoongi accepts defeat. No, he can’t blame Seokjin because it’s true: Jimin has the unique power of rendering anyone speechless by sheer existence. “Yeah. That he is. I didn’t warn you, sorry.”
“Where the hell was that the day of the wedding?” Seokjin asks, eating the salted peanuts one by one. His fingers are crooked. “Is this how it’s going to be, Yoongi-ssi? Because that was a lot.”
“You’ll be okay. Also in answer to your second question—he was effectively, hmm, distracted,” Yoongi says, crossing his arms and sitting back. “Maybe carry your brother with you around next time we meet.”
Seokjin nods, brows furrowed in concentration. “Okay. Use Taehyung as a gay shield, got it,” he summarises. Then he leans forward. “So. Parents?”
“Right. Parents.” Yoongi sighs. Truth be told, he’s not sure what angle he should be playing toward. “All they know about you at the moment is your name.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah. I panicked and said the first one that came to my mind,” Yoongi explains. He decides never to tell Seokjin how badly he panicked. After seeing his god-tier narrative skills, Yoongi’s a bit ashamed of his own. “We met on an app. We’re not that familiar, but you’re the first that has gotten my interest.”
“Ooh, playing hard to get to, are you?”
“Listen, I would never date someone from an app,” Yoongi proclaims, gagging internally at the thought. “The app is for the ass.”
Seokjin accidentally crushes a peanut. “Um. Wow. Okay.”
“Gays talk like this. Better get used to it.”
“Does that mean I have to make sex jokes too?” Seokjin asks, and he sounds so serious too. “I can do that. Penetration jokes are my thing.”
“Please do not make them in front of my mother, good God,” Yoongi says. She’s accepted him, but she would faint at anything more. “Just. Be normal. Quiet. Or anything that’s not too gay.”
“So the straight version of being gay?”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
“He’ll nail it too,” Jimin’s voice chimes in, tiny hands steadily holding two large beer mugs. “I still refuse to believe he’s only straight.”
“Don’t say things like that, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi chastises, not wanting Seokjin to be uncomfortable. By most standards, he’s being a right champ. “We’re the last people to enforce such things on others.”
Jimin pouts. “But hyung!”
“No, Jimin.”
“That’s sweet of you, Yoongi-ssi, but I for one take it as a compliment,” Seokjin says, winking at Jimin. Yeah, not a good idea to have them close. “Anyway. So you don’t really know me but like me enough to introduce me to your parents?”
“Sounds like hyung.”
“Jimin, shut it,” Yoongi grumbles. “And yes. You’re plus-one material.”
Seokjin throws his shoulders back. “Lovely. I’m great with parents. Piece of cake.”
“Really?” Jimin squints. “Because Yoongi hyung’s parents are like him. Just a lot older.”
“Ahjummas and ahjussis love me,” Seokjin repeats, gaze serious as it bores into Jimin’s. “Trust me. I’ll handle this.”
Surprisingly, Yoongi believes him. He squeezes Jimin’s wrist under the table, a silent signal, and Jimin relaxes, before leaning forward. “That’s hot.”
“Thank you.”
“Tell me,” Jimin starts, finger now running along the rim of his glass. Oh no, not the queer hypnotism. “Is Taehyung also good with parents?”
This is the point Yoongi should step in and send Jimin away for good. Most people can’t handle his subtle enquiries under the heavy blanket of charm. Yet once again, Seokjin surprises him. “Oh, yeah. He’s the baby of the family, so they love him.”
“Oh.”
“Yep! You could have introduced him,” Seokjin says, and Jimin frowns in confusion. “He has his eyes on someone.”
“Oh.”
“But I’m not sure if it’s a relationship thing,” Seokjin rambles, sipping at the beer. He seems unaware of how crushed Jimin looks—only Yoongi can sense that. “Whatever it is, I’m letting you know so you don’t chase something unnecessarily.” His eyes turn to Jimin’s, and they’re full of regret.
“That’s okay,” Jimin says, frowning so hard his lips jut out, and that’s a fatal look in itself. “I’m just confused ‘cause we went back home after the wedding. There wasn’t any ‘other guy’.”
Seokjin blinks. “Went home?”
“He means they fucked,” Yoongi cuts to the chase, while Jimin lets out a strangled sound. His cheeks are bright pink. “Yep, they did.”
“But…they just met?” Seokjin says, and it seems like he needs more help. “You’d sleep with someone before the first date?”
“You literally proposed,” Jimin deadpans, sitting back unimpressed. “And married him. Without having a first date.” Then his eyes widen as he looks between the two of them. “Unless...this…?”
“No, this isn’t a date,” Yoongi says while Seokjin shakes his head. “Are you done?”
“Just one more question,” Jimin says. Leans forward. “This other guy, you said it’s not a relationship thing?”
“I mean, I assume so? It’s like a friends-with-benefits thing. I’m not sure if feelings are involved.”
“Hmm. I’ll ask Taehyung then,” Jimin scratches under his chin, before standing up and clapping his hands. “I’m going to marry him so everything needs to be clear.”
Seokjin chokes on his beer again. Poor him. Yoongi really should have warned him, but he keeps quiet as Seokjin recovers while Jimin sways his ass. Just to make sure he’s actually straight move. What a brat.
Moments pass before Seokjin speaks up. “So. That was a lot.”
“Yeah. I’d advise you to ignore it,” Yoongi says, putting aside the empty mugs. “Let’s get back to us.”
“Sexy. I love it when you claim us in public.”
“I cannot handle a second Jimin, please focus,” Yoongi sighs. Seokjin zips his mouth shut. “So. App. You’re plus-one material. You charm my mom like your life depends on it.”
“Done. What else?”
“Uh, if she hints about our future or marriage…play along? Just so she can feel convinced that I can, in fact, be happy as a gay man.”
“I will flaunt that 401k, baby, don’t you worry,” Seokjin says, and it’s cute how resolute he sounds. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s fine.” Yoongi bites his lip. A terrible habit he needs to stop. “I’m not sure what else to cover.”
“I have to be your boyfriend and not your husband in this scenario, right?” Seokjin asks. Yoongi nods in confirmation. “Great. So remove the rings, first thing.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Yoongi stares at the plain gold on his ring finger. He takes it off—but Seokjin lets out a strangled screech, clasping his hand. “What?”
“Not now! Our colleagues could be here,” Seokjin hisses, looking around akin to a feral wolf. Even that looks handsome on him. “I meant for your home. Remove it then.”
“Right.”
“You really did a right number, attempting to run two stories at the same time,” Seokjin tuts, shaking his head. Yoongi finds himself pouting, which, horrendous. But something about Seokjin and the way he is… “I don’t know you, we don’t work together which I have to either lie about our work or come up with a fake job. Are you seeing this?”
“Okay, fine, I panicked and blurted things,” Yoongi grumbles, crossing his arms. “Like you would have done any better.”
He would have, but over his dead body is Min Yoongi praising Kim Seokjin more than necessary. He also doesn’t want to make himself look like a loser.
“I would have, actually,” Seokjin says primly, cheeks puffing up from the fish fingers. “Would have picked a guy from office i.e. you. We work in the same place, office romance happened, etc. etc. That way we’d only have to hide the rings.”
Damn it. He really is good at this. “Okay.”
“Aw, is Yoongi-chi getting jealous over my superior story-telling skills?” Seokjin asks in a baby voice, and Yoongi cringes. But also, how is an adult so adorable?
“Shut up, good God,” Yoongi mumbles, curling into himself. Behind Seokjin, Jimin gives a thumbs up. “If there’s nothing else, then we can make a leave for it?”
“Wait, hold on,” Seokjin says, clearing his throat. “How long would we have been dating, according to your mother?”
“I told her two weeks so…maybe a month and a half? By the time of the lunch?”
“Right. Not in a relationship?” Seokjin frowns. “I’m not sure if she’d understand regular American dating culture.”
Right. His mom had immigrated, so she’d still be used to the ridiculous 100 days concept and what not. “If I tell her it’s a gay thing, she’ll listen.”
Seokjin raises his eyebrows. “Wow, really gay-lighting your poor mother like this.”
Yoongi’s mouth drops. “Did you—did you just. Make a pun. Out of—”
“You can’t divorce me now, we’re official,” Seokjin says hastily, the top of his ears bright red. “Anyway. We should leave.”
“I did not just hear gay and gaslight be used in the same sentence—”
“Gosh, would you look at the time?” Seokjin gasps, staring at his wrist which doesn’t have a watch. “I really need to get going. Goodbye, Yoongi-chi!”
The man waddles out of the bar so fast, even Jimin is astounded by it.
“Just shut it,” Yoongi says, when Jimin comes by with a wicked glint in his eyes, presumably to question him on Seokjin’s insistence to call him Yoongi-chi. Whatever the hell that means.
♡💍♡
The day of the lunch arrives surprisingly fast.
And Yoongi is…not prepared.
Work had been okay. At least, no one seemed to ask him too many questions, perhaps owing to the image they have of him. He knows Seokjin had a gala time—he’d receive several texts sometimes, though he didn’t reply to any of them—it still feels weird, that they talked about it and went ahead with their scheme. That it’s real.
The ring is a heavy weight on his finger, one he finds himself playing with whenever he is ruminating on something.
They don’t talk otherwise. Yoongi just wants the meeting with his parents done and dusted with so they don’t pester him or assume things about his gay life. It’s hilarious, the lengths to which he has to go to so he can be accepted as ‘normal’ by his family.
So. The lunch. The day arrives, and so does Seokjin at his doorstep, just as bright. Yoongi doesn’t let him in, not having cleaned up yet and also, and Holly doesn’t take kindly to strangers. Surprisingly, Seokjin doesn’t ask either.
“Cute outfit, husband,” Seokjin winks, hands in his pockets as he walks alongside. It’s semi-casual; Yoongi in a long, oversized knitted sweater with skinny jeans. Seokjin is wearing an oversized sweatshirt, but on him, it looks like a fashion show. “I wasn’t sure what the vibe was supposed to be.”
“This is okay,” Yoongi confirms, walking towards his car. Seokjin’s parked alongside. “You drove?”
“Hell yeah.” Seokjin shivers as he stands. “Do you want to…?”
Yoongi thinks about it. On one hand, letting Seokjin drive is putting too much control in a stranger’s hands. On the other, from a gay guy making his parents meet his potential partner, it would be romantic. Sort of. Maybe even sell their story a bit more. “Yeah, sure. If you don’t mind.”
“Cool, just put the address in the GPS,” Seokjin says, easy-going and tall. He whistles as he walks, his body relaxed. Yoongi on the other hand is crawling with ants. “Removed the rings?”
“Back at home.”
Seokjin hums, unlocking the car. The first thing Yoongi notices is how clean it is. Somehow, it clashes with Seokjin’s overtly loud personality. Yoongi had expected a lot more pomp and oomph, though he is not displeased. It even smells great, like sea salt.
The drive is quiet—and not in a bad way. A Korean trot song plays gently in the background, one that Yoongi recognises and is surprised Seokjin knows as well. It hits him then—he doesn’t really know Seokjin beyond the basics.
And he’s about to introduce him as a boyfriend.
“Tell me about yourself,” Yoongi blurts, picking at his nails—he used to bite them right to the skin, but it’s been years and he’s over that habit now. Yet, the urge comes back in stressful moments.
Seokjin looks over. He’s a great driver, fortunately. “What, is there an interview?”
“No. Basic first date questions.”
“Didn’t realise they were so corporate in nature,” Seokjin comments, and Yoongi holds back a smile. “Makes sense though. In both cases, someone’s trying to screw the other over.”
“Touché,” Yoongi says. They still have half an hour to go, and Yoongi would need to field some questions. “You were born in America?”
“Freshly American,” Seokjin trills, rolling his eyes. “Well, except in looks. But yeah, my parents moved here when my mom was pregnant with my brother. My dad worked with Samsung, so he was transferred here. They decided to settle permanently.”
“Interesting. English name?”
“None. Eomma never let me,” Seokjin says, and Yoongi’s impressed. He’s heard of plenty of Korean-Americans adopting English names for ease in schools. Yoongi himself faced an issue, but his parents were too proud and too untested. “I’m glad, though. Sure, it sucked when I was young, but if they can pronounce that Swan Lake dude’s name, they can manage a couple of syllables.”
“That’s what I said, too,” Yoongi adds. Seokjin smiles. “What’s the fake job?”
Seokjin hums. “Is your mom the sort to judge a person by their profession?”
“Maybe. Sometimes.” Yoongi thinks about it. His parents had been begrudging about his music, but were mostly okay with his current profession. They didn’t get it, but it paid the bills and that was all. “Just stick to something normal, please?”
“Why don’t we just stick to my earlier story?” Seokjin suggests. Yoongi frowns. “You know, the one about meeting at work?”
“She already knows we met through an app, hyung.”
“Okay, but you work in a completely different division. We never crossed paths. It was a pleasant surprise when we realised we were in the same office.”
That…is actually brilliant. Once again, Yoongi’s impressed. If only Seokjin had actually been gay. No, stop that. Don’t become a Jimin. “Seriously, how are you able to do that?”
“I was studying to be an actor, actually.”
“Ah. Food is better?”
“Food is always better, preferably on the table when I’m able to afford it.”
Yoongi salutes. It’s refreshing, Seokjin’s attitude and how similar it is. His parents might just like him if he doesn’t pull something ridiculous.
They complete the rest of the drive in silence, and when they reach, Seokjin pushes his hair off his forehead which…should not render Yoongi breathlessly silent.
Oh god, not the forehead.
“We’ll nail this,” Seokjin says, taking a couple of deep breaths. “This is going to be a breeze.”
“Is this your pep talk for yourself?”
“I’ll have you know, I was told I’d be the dream son-in-law to a girl lucky enough to marry me.”
Yoongi scoffs. He rings the doorbell. “Unfortunately, I’m not a girl.”
“No, you’re something even better,” Seokjin says, winking, suddenly close and too tall in Yoongi’s face. And curse Yoongi’s pale skin, his cheeks heat up right when the door opens. “Ah, hello!”
Then Seokjin bows a full 90 degrees to his tiny mom, still standing in her apron. Her mouth drops open when Seokjin stands up straight. Fortunately for her, she’s very much a woman. “Oh! You must be…”
“Kim Seokjin-ssi, Eomma,” Yoongi introduces, bowing slightly before leaning in to hug her briefly. “My…date that I told you about.”
“Yes, yes, I remember,” she whispers in a daze. Her glasses her fogging up. Seokjin smiles beatifically, and Yoongi could swear his mom swoons. “The man from the gay app.”
“That would be me, Eommonim,” Seokjin says, a serene smile on his face. “You have a lovely home. Yoongi told me all about it.”
He hadn’t, but Seokjin, as promised, is effortlessly charming from the get-go. Just as his mother is about to close the door, he looks up in alarm. “Ah, I forgot something in the car. I’ll be right back!”
There are a couple of moments of silence between Yoongi and his mother. She doesn’t immediately comment, and she won’t until the lunch is over, most likely. The Mins were careful like that.
Seokjin comes by, holding a fruit basket in one hand. “Here, Eommonim. Fresh produce from the Farmer’s Market.”
“Oh my,” she says, accepting the gift and bowing back. “You didn’t need to…”
“Ah, I have been invited so warmly to your house. I can’t show up empty-handed," Seokjin says, the apples of his cheeks puffing up with a soft smile. “There is also a small package of wild ginseng. My mother said that’s hard to come by here, so.”
“Thank you so much, Seokjin-ssi,” his mother says, her eyes warm and fond. Yoongi cheers internally; if there’s one thing his mother appreciated, it was displays of Korean knowledge in a foreign land. “Please, make yourself at home. Son, the rest of them are in the living room.”
She leaves, and Seokjin lets out a sigh. Yoongi looks at him up and down, eyebrows raised because what the hell? Seokjin had come prepared. And the man shrugs, winking before pushing past Yoongi into the room.
His father is already seated in the armchair next to the fireplace. Geumjae and his fiancée, Sohyeon, are seated on the loveseat. “Ah, Yoongi-yah!”
His brother smiles brightly, rising and hugging Yoongi tightly. He hugs Sohyeon next, though not as tight, and with his father, he bows. Seokjin hangs back, hands clasped in front of him—and when his father looks, he bows 90 degrees again. “Hello, Abbeonim.”
His father nods, looking back at Yoongi with a question in his eyes. “Appa, this is Kim Seokjin-ssi. My date.”
“Oh, that’s him?” Geumjae asks, eyes wide as he offers his hand. Seokjin shakes it firmly. “Eomma had said you’d be bringing him over…but this wasn’t what I was expecting.”
“What were you expecting, Geumjae-ssi?” Seokjin asks lightly, taking a seat on the opposite end. Yoongi sits next to him, and the combined attention of his family crawls over him. It’s a lot, especially when Yoongi’s mostly kept to himself his whole life.
“Nothing…actually, no,” Geumjae hums. Sohyeon rises to help his mother in the kitchen. “I didn’t expect Yoongi to settle with anyone, honestly.”
“Ah, that way,” Seokjin nods. “Well, what can I say? Yoongi has excellent taste.”
A beat of silence and then—
His father laughs.
It’s a hearty laugh, one Yoongi has barely ever heard. His father is a quiet man, and Yoongi has borrowed most of his traits. Even then, it’s not the loudest—but his shoulder crunch in and his eyes twinkle. “Ah, he’s certainly modest, isn’t he?”
“He has his charms,” Yoongi says, shrugging casually. The anxiety and nerves still eat away at him, but he can feel himself relaxing. “Seokjin-hyung won’t say it, but he was nervous before he came here.”
“Yoongi!” Seokjin gasps in mock hurt, the tip of his ears red. “That’s not true. I have been looking forward to meeting you all.”
“We’re glad too, dear,” his mother says, entering the room with a tray full of snacks and a tea set. “Yoongi has never brought any of his…other partners to meet us. You must be special.”
Seokjin blushes at that, chin down and his ears a brighter pink. Yoongi hopes he’s not as bad. How can his mother expose him like that?
“How have you guys been? Wedding preparations going okay?” Yoongi cuts in before they can interrogate Seokjin like he knows his mom must be dying to. “How long now?”
“Another month,” Geumjae grins, holding Sohyeon’s hand. “We’re doing okay. Although I think the in-laws are getting slightly anxious.”
Sohyeon gently slaps his arm, though she carries a playful smile on her face. Yoongi likes her, and particularly likes how she grounds Geumjae; he’d always hoped for a relationship like theirs for himself once upon a time. And now…
Regular chit-chat continues, though Yoongi catches the glances his mother throws their way. Through it all, Seokjin is charming as ever—different from the HR, more subdued but quietly confident as he answers and participates in the discussion. He’s well-versed in Korean culture—something his father points out as well.
“Yes, I was born here but my parents were particular that we find our grounding in our home culture,” Seokjin answers, sitting primly. He has a great posture, something Yoongi finds himself envying. He almost always resorts to a curved lobster eventually. “Both my cousins are settled here as well, but we’ve frequently visited our grandparents in Korea.”
“That’s a wonderful thing your parents have taught,” his mother says, handing over some more tea. “I don’t know if Yoongi told you, but we moved much later, while they were still in Korea.”
“He did tell me. We discussed it during one of our dates,” Seokjin says absently, chewing carefully. Yoongi sees the way his mother hooks onto the statement as if she had been waiting for an opening.
“How long have you been…dating, Seokjin-ssi?” His mother prompts, watching them carefully. Seokjin freezes slightly but registers a smile on his face. “Don’t mind me…it’s just new for us as well. As I said, Yoongi’s hardly ever brought people over.”
“Eomma, c’mon,” Yoongi whines, shuffling back into the couch. He knew this was going to happen, but going through it is still torture. “I already told you.”
“It’s okay, Yoongi-yah,” Seokjin says softly, placing a hand over Yoongi’s, squeezing it briefly. “Perhaps a couple of weeks? We’re still figuring it out.”
“He said you met through an app?”
“Yes. Usually for gay people.”
“And your parents…are they okay with this too?”
“Oh, sure!” Seokjin chimes brightly, though his ears become red again. Interesting. “There was resistance, of course. I don’t blame them. But they’re fairly open, plus I’m the youngest so…”
“Ah, I see. So is Yoongi,” his mother says, levying him with a fond look. Yoongi looks away, too shy. “What do you do?”
“Yoongi didn’t tell you?” She shakes her head, no, and Yoongi frowns at him. “We work at the same place, actually.”
She blinks. “What?”
“Yes!” Seokjin leans forward. “We met through the app, but didn’t realise we worked at the same organisation until much later.”
“What he means to say is we work in entirely different divisions, so we never crossed paths,” Yoongi cuts in. “Seokjin-hyung and I found out quite recently. It makes relating to each other much easier.”
“Oh, the travesties of working in the food industry,” Seokjin bemoans, and even his father smiles. “I’m glad I met someone who understands.”
“That’s what I kept telling Yoongi,” his mother adds on, enamoured. “It’s easier when we can share our burden with someone, no?”
“If they’re a good fit, why not?” Seokjin agrees, the dream son-in-law material he’d boasted of being. “Yoongi’s shy, though, so I can see why he took his time opening up. You’ve raised him well, Eommonim.”
And if that doesn’t bring the blood rushing right up his mother’s cheeks. One thing is for certain—Seokjin’s going to walk away from today’s lunch with a fan in his pocket.
“Thank you, Seokjin-ssi. I must say, though, my son is sensible by himself.” She turns those fond eyes his way again, and Yoongi can’t hold it. They’ve been through a lot, his mother and he, and it took a while, that mutual admiration and respect. He’s glad he’s at a position in his life where he can be frank with her, to a certain extent. Even if he does have to make a fake boyfriend just to keep her happy. “Lunch is ready! Shall we?”
They shuffle out one by one, entering the dining hall where lays a scrumptious meal. Seokjin’s eyes light up, and he comments on each dish and its preparation. He doesn’t have to try so hard, especially with his mother’s approval shining in her eyes—but something tells Yoongi this is Seokjin being 100% genuine.
It’s a quiet affair, with the occasional discussion between Seokjin and his brother, or with his father. Yoongi keeps quiet, though he’s usually talkative around his family…but he simply wants to drink in the scene. A fantasy he’s had since he was a young queer man, and maybe at the core of it it’s not real but for now, he can pretend it is. He can pretend that their story happened and that this lunch is happening for genuine reasons.
No one has to know if it’s happening in his head.
By the time the sun sets, they’re all pleasantly full and the environment is nice. Better than nice even; it’s peaceful. The kind Yoongi had not anticipated when he’d walked in a couple of hours ago.
They bid his parents goodbye, before walking towards the car; Yoongi drives this time. Next to him, Seokjin is quiet and contemplative. Yoongi finds himself enjoying it once again.
“So. Verdict?” Seokjin asks, once they reach Yoongi’s building and walk towards Seokjin’s car. Somehow, he still looks fresh and ready to go. “What do you think?”
“I think you can still give that acting career a shot,” Yoongi says, hands crossed. The evening June breeze is pleasantly cold on his skin. “Thank you, hyung. You were brilliant.”
Seokjin’s ears turn red, and he scratches the back of his neck. “Ah, it was nothing. Thank you for going along with this.”
“Mutual benefits,” Yoongi shrugs. “You weren’t kidding about parents liking you.”
“Mine raised me really well.”
“I can see that.”
“Yours are sweet as well,” Seokjin says softly, and there it is again, the strange white noise in his ears. He can’t explain it. “I had fun today.”
“For real?”
“Yes, I’m not acting now,” Seokjin says with a laugh. “What’s next?”
A good question. They’d achieved what they’d set out to do…Seokjin and he had managed to fool the HR into thinking they were a real couple—even if they did marry each other. They’d have a better salary. As for his parents…
“I suppose we keep this up until the wedding?” Yoongi suggests. Seokjin nods. “That’s what my family will be expecting anyway. If I’m required during the preparations and you’re free, you can tag along. You know what to expect now.”
“Sounds like a piece of cake,” Seokjin says, shoving his hands in his pockets. He takes out his car keys and presses the button. The car chirps. “At the office, we can carry on. If I’m not sure about any part of the story I’ll text you.”
“Sure.”
“Who am I kidding, you’re never going to respond,” Seokjin says, smiling to himself. “Well, then, Yoongi-chi. See you at work.”
Seokjin gets into the car—and drives off, leaving Yoongi with questions and—gratitude.
♡💍♡
This is All Capitalism’s Fault
♡💍♡
Seokjin is faced with a dilemma.
In an ideal scenario, once Seokjin gets that extra bonus and Yoongi manages to get his parents off his back, they carry on as normal. Even married couples need to maintain some decorum in professional settings, so no one can blame them for minding their business. And to Yoongi’s parents, they’re individuals dating each other, so they don’t have to ‘be together’ all the time. It’s a win-win, and it all works out.
In reality, HRs in any corporate are bloodthirsty fiends, and Maria is no less even if she has a diamond smile. She approaches Seokjin two weeks after they’d given their legal documents, and drops temptation right in his lap:
“If you’re part of our new series of commercials, we can talk some more about other perks in addition to the salary benefits.”
Meaning if Yoongi and he participate in what is blatant queer tokenism, they get even more than what they’d bargained for. Seokjin says he’ll discuss it with Yoongi, and Maria tells him to think about it. No rush, you know we’re not about that. Bullshit; that’s exactly what corporates are about. Of course, no company would willingly offer a higher package without some costs—Seokjin wishes he’d been shrewd enough to foresee that.
Yoongi had told him he never participated in any of Galant’s queer community workshops or activities precisely because of this factor. Seokjin respects that. And so now, he’s faced with a dilemma.
Being part of Sales and Marketing, he’s had the privilege of being privy to some of the marketing campaigns Galant pushes in order to get more advertisers and customers. He’s more than aware of how much companies spend on PR in the long run. And more importantly, how much it pays.
And how they can screw a person over if they don’t abide by it.
“Why have you called me here of all places?” Yoongi asks, shivering on the roof. He’s wearing his white lab coat still, with his mask pulled down. He looks like a scrumptious little dumpling, and the imagery soothes Seokjin’s nerves. “You could have texted.”
“You would have ignored it,” Seokjin says, rubbing his own hands. “So. Maria approached me at lunch today.”
Yoongi stills. “And?”
“The company has…a proposal,” Seokjin starts. He still hates the idea, but it’s only fair to run it by Yoongi. “It’s important you know about it.”
“Meaning you’re considering it but don’t want to go ahead unless I give the green signal,” Yoongi interprets succinctly, which, wow, he’s great at reading Seokjin’s mind. “What is it?”
“Did you know we’re the only openly gay and married in-office couple in the history of Galant?” Seokjin starts, getting déjà vu from when he first proposed the idea of the scam to Yoongi. Only this time, it seems a bit too real.
“I don’t make it a point to read into queer representation in any organisation.” Yoongi frowns, though, and Seokjin can see his wheels turning.
“Well. They want a bit of…help, so to say,” Seokjin starts, wincing internally at his wording. How does he put it across, though? He was okay working with the ideal scenario in his head, but now… “You know what they want, right?” Seokjin asks, hoping he doesn’t have to spell it out.
And Yoongi, bless his shrewd little mind, does. “Queer rep?”
“It’s a series of commercials they’ll be pushing out in a couple of weeks,” Seokjin says. Up here on the roof, they’re safe. No cameras, no people and no potential eavesdroppers. “They want us to participate as the only gay couple in the adverts.”
Yoongi lets out a breath. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Nope. And I don’t think we have a choice,” Seokjin says. They could rebel and say no, of course. But every time Seokjin thinks of it, his gut screams at him. “Maria specifically mentioned additional perks.”
“In addition to what? The salary hike?”
“Amongst others. She told me to think on it, but—I don’t know,” Seokjin says. He doesn’t want to drag Yoongi, or anyone for that matter, into something like this. “I mean, I know she said she’d like if we talked about it but this is more than talking—”
“I’ll do it.”
Seokjin stops short. “What?”
“I’m open to doing it if—if you are,” Yoongi says carefully, lips pressed into a thin line. He doesn’t nearly seem as pissed as Seokjin had anticipated. “You’re right. Even if we refuse, they’ll make us miserable in some other way.”
“Okay, but Yoongi—you told me you didn’t want to participate in all this.”
“I don’t. What will be the consequences if we don’t?”
Off the top of his head, Seokjin can come up with at least five. “Right. Outweighs the self-respect, doesn’t it?”
“I knew what I was signing up for when I agreed to your plan,” Yoongi says simply, his face calm. “As much as I dislike this, it is what it is. There’s no way they wouldn’t want to cash in on such an opportunity.”
He supposes Yoongi would have a fairer idea than he does, having been queer a lot longer than Seokjin—even if he’s playing a role. “I didn’t consider that.”
“It’s okay. Most straight people don’t, since they don’t have to deal with it this way,” Yoongi says, no judgement on his face. “You’re also the Sales and Marketing Head. They said it’s not an obligation—but it is an expectation from you. That’s why she came to you, not me.”
“I—well—”
“I’ve been openly gay since I joined. They tried once, I said no. They couldn’t do much, but I have received backlash for it in my own way.” Yoongi looks away into the distance, lost in thought. “For my qualifications, I should have been in a much higher position.”
Seokjin doesn’t know what to say. “I’m so sorry, Yoongi.”
“Don’t. It’s fine,” Yoongi says, turning back and shrugging. It’s the face of a man who has accepted his wins and his losses. “But you, on the other hand. You don’t have to be dragged down because I have been stubborn in the past.”
“It’s not stubbornness.”
“To them it is. That’s why they’ve been mostly addressing you,” Yoongi says, an amused smile gracing his lips. “You are the marketing head; they find you more approachable than me.”
Seokjin wants to deny it, but he shuts his mouth when he sees Yoongi’s self-satisfied smirk. It’s true, Yoongi is infamous—if not for the copy room incident, Seokjin wouldn’t have ever talked to him. Whether he likes it or not, their union was a pure accident. “So what, then?”
“If you’re okay with it—and we don’t know yet what— we agree to what they say. We are married after all,” Yoongi adds softly, eyes piercing as a fox. “Might as well as see what other benefits we can procure from this arrangement.”
Seokjin can’t fault that logic. “Okay…only if you’re really sure…”
“Shut up. You’d love it,” Yoongi snorts, a rare twinkle in his eyes. “Pretending to be a married couple in front of a camera. Aren’t we closer to your acting dream?”
Damn, maybe Yoongi should have been the Sales head. “When you put it across like that…”
“Atta boy, let’s go ahead and plan,” Yoongi says, patting Seokjin’s shoulder briefly before making his way to the exit. “Let’s make capitalism pay, shall we?”
And so they do.
Or well, they hope to. Maria is ecstatic and agrees when Yoongi asks to see the expectations of the potential signing. They have things to keep an eye out for, after all—overseas viewing, and potential people sabotaging the commercial. Yoongi is great at negotiating—and perhaps his guess had been right because he can see Maria briefly curling her lip before a bright smile graces her face.
“I think both of us would feel safer if it wasn’t advertised as a marriage commercial,” Yoongi points out, legs crossed as he goes over each detail meticulously. “While we are grateful Galant is a safe organisation to be public about our—our union, we’re still testing the waters vis a vis our families.”
“Of course, that’s understandable,” Maria says, noting down the pointers. “How should we go about showing…the bond without saying it?”
“Actions speak louder than words, don’t they,” Yoongi says, shrugging. “I think simply showing two men preparing food domestically puts across the message Galant seems to be pushing, yes?”
Maria’s cheeks pool red, some sort of shame entering her eyes. Seokjin can’t help but feel awe. To subtly call out what Galant wants to cash in on while maintaining complete disinterest…Seokjin wants to learn this skill ASAP. It’s a need, not a want.
“Right, of course. That was our intention as well,” Maria says softly, though the scribbles of her pen punch the paper a little harder. “Anything else?”
“I’d like a clearer idea of what is expected from us, exactly,” Seokjin adds, a little nervous. He can manage to look great on camera, no problem. The issue is appearing in love with his fake-real husband. As they cook, goodness.
“The advertising team hasn’t gotten to us yet, and we’re still waiting on some information from R&D,” Maria says, clicking her pen off. “But the rough idea was to push the idea of home-cooked meals, made easier using our products. Our latest chain of products caters to raw materials which makes cooking at home easier, especially for cultures which require a lot of raw materials.”
“Which is where we come in?”
“Well, in addition to being married—once again, congratulations,” Maria adds with a giggle, and Seokjin smiles robotically, “both of you are of Korean heritage. Our aim is to connect with both the East Asian community as well as the LGBTQIA+, by rolling both aspects into one.”
Yoongi snorts derisively behind his fist but pretends to look elsewhere when Maria glares at him. Seokjin rushes in to cover the slight, hoping he can charm right into her good books again. “That’s quite smart, from a marketing perspective.”
“Isn’t it? Thank you,” Maria says, shutting the iPad. Both of them stand as she shakes their hand. “I’ll send over the corrected documents based on your suggestions. You can go over it and send it to our team. In case of any other concerns, please don’t hesitate to reach out.”
“Of course. You’ve been an angel, Maria,” Seokjin takes over as Yoongi begins receding back. “About the benefits…”
“Right, yes! They’ll be in the documents as well, but roughly—five extra vacation days each, and as a small compensation for so bravely putting yourselves out there in a public manner—a sponsored trip by Galant. We can negotiate more if the commercial series brings in results—but does this sound good for now?”
Good? Good? It sounds like heaven. Seokjin would kill for extra vacation days, but a sponsored trip? Either being gay is fun or capitalists suck rainbow dick hard. Hmm, no. That sounds like an extremely problematic sentence. He’d have to run it by Namjoon later on.
“It sounds lovely. Galant is really putting so much effort into this,” Seokjin says, clasping her hand in both of his. “Thank you, Maria.”
She beams, and the situation is under control once more. Yoongi and Seokjin walk out of the room as happy men.
Seokjin spoke too soon. The situation is not under control.
He’d just stepped out of his shower undergoing step five of his twelve-step skincare routine when the email had dropped— and promptly drops the phone. Thank god he has floor carpeting.
Are you seeing this?
Hello?
Yoongi?
…
Yoongiiiiii
Respond, this is an emer
Okay yk what
E
M
E
R
G
Husband :*
Jesus Christ STOP
What do you want
Hey I almost completed ‘emerge’
You anyway did, my summoning powers
Husband :*
Did you want to waste my time
Goodbye, my dinner is burning
Nooo
Check your email
Husband :*
Why
What infernal thing have you sent me now
Unfortunately not this time
It’s from Maria
He waits a couple of moments, patting the serum into the skin under his eyes when his phone chimes again.
Husband :*
What do they mean
Your residence
Means they want to shoot the commercials
At a home
Ours, to be precise
So they can maintain a ‘homely’ feel
Husband :*
Okay
What’s the big deal then
Sounds doable
Ah, Yoongi-chi
My little dumpling
Husband :*
Hyung.
Right. Sorry
We don’t have ‘our’ home
Husband :*
We do?
Where tf are you staying then
You’re not so stupid usually so
I’m assuming that dinner is really distracting
We have TWO homes
We don’t have OUR home
Because we are married on PAPER
Husband :*
Oh.
Oh, shit.
Oh, shit is an apt response.
10/10 for eloquence.
Seokjin’s phone rings suddenly, and he watches it for a good three seconds before he picks it up. Yoongi’s never called him before. “Hi?”
“What do we do, hyung?” Yoongi asks, his voice raspy and tired. Meat sizzles in the background, and Seokjin can practically smell it. “Can’t we suggest renting a studio or something?”
“Maybe they want to save on rent,” Seokjin muses, rolling the jade roller over his cheeks. “They’re not sure if a gay couple gay-coupling will be well-received.”
“That’s shit logic. What’s the R&D team for then?” Yoongi grouches, the sound of cooking consistent throughout. “This is, like, an invasion of privacy.”
The moment he says it, Seokjin can see it. A couple of strangers entering their private space, the spaces they get to shed their roles for. “You’re right. I’ll draft an email to Maria and put across your suggestion.”
There’s silence, only the sound of their breathing getting across. Somehow, Seokjin is okay with being on the line with him. It doesn’t feel any different than not talking.
“You think differently, don’t you?” Yoongi says after a while, tone unaffected. How does he do that? “Tell me, hyung.”
“Nothing. I’d been thinking differently, but as you said, privacy is important.”
“What were you thinking, hyung?”
Seokjin is almost too embarrassed to say it. What has he become overnight, some sort of bottomless capitalist cow? “If we’re letting them into our space, we get negotiation chips.”
Maybe he is being too straight and queer insensitive. God forbid if Namjoon ever hears of this mess; he would have Seokjin by his beautiful, even teeth.
“Negotiate how?”
Yoongi sounds curious, unlike what Seokjin had been anticipating. “Uh, I was thinking…maybe getting you that position you deserve.”
“Ah, hyung, there’s no need,” Yoongi murmurs, which enrages Seokjin even more.
“I looked into what you said and it’s unfair,” Seokjin hisses, clenching the hand towel in his hand. “They really punished you for not agreeing to their ‘request’?”
“That’s just my guess,” Yoongi says, and Seokjin can visualise the shrug. Except it seems a lot more helpless in his head than nonchalant, the way he’d assumed Yoongi to be. “You don’t need to fight my battles for me.”
“I’m not. I’m negotiating, there is a difference,” Seokjin replies without missing a beat. “You’re more experienced than I am, and you’ve been working longer. In addition to the perks, you get the salary for the actual position.”
“There’s no need.”
“It’s not always a need. It’s a want, and it’s okay to have them,” Seokjin says breezily, shutting his bathroom lights. “Okay, treat it as a hypothetical. If we went ahead.”
“Hmm?”
“Whose house would be the best option?”
“What does yours look like?”
“It’s a one-bedroom. Sufficient for one.” Seokjin does a survey, imagines Yoongi in this space and…yeah, no. “Yours would be better.”
“Because it’s a studio with plenty of space?”
“Wow, way to flex your real estate on me, Yoongi, I’m swooning,” Seokjin deadpans. He wasn’t allowed in, but he could guess. “Your building has great interiors, from what I noticed. Converted loft?”
Yoongi hums appreciatively. “Damn, you’re good.”
“My brother dabbled in real estate for a while,” Seokjin says, taking out pre-packed jjajangmyeon and his mother’s radish kimchi. “Anyway. Hypothetically, I should move in.”
“Careful, hyung. Rushing a little, aren’t you?”
He can hear Yoongi’s smile through the phone, and his belly warms. It’s a thing now, isn’t it? Seokjin loves having inside jokes with people. “What can I say, Yoongi-chi? We’re married.”
“Non-hypothetically too,” Yoongi muses, scraping the pan. Seokjin imagines stir-fry for some reason. “Then, non-hypothetically, I have a dog.”
Seokjin almost drops the container. “What!”
“Ah, hyung,” Yoongi whines—whines— and Seokjin apologises. “Yes. His name is Holly. He is a poodle.”
“I am in love already,” Seokjin says, and he means it. He hasn’t had a pet since Jjangu passed away. “With the dog. Of course.”
“Thanks, I needed that clarity,” Yoongi says dryly. They eat their meals in silence. “Are you serious, hyung?”
Seokjin thinks about it. Sooner or later, someone would ask why a married couple lives separately. If they go by their story, Seokjin and Yoongi should have moved in with each other a while back. They would anyway have had to resort to this to keep their stories straight.
“Only if you’re okay with, Yoongi-yah,” Seokjin says eventually, mixing the leftover sauce. “It is your space. You get to decide who gets to see it.”
Yoongi clears his throat. “I’ll need to think on this a bit, hyung.”
“Sure. I’ll let Maria know we need some time, okay?”
“Yeah, hyung. Thank you.”
Strangely, Seokjin’s throat tightens. “Goodnight, Yoongi-chi.”
Somehow, it feels the most natural on his tongue.
♡💍♡
Yoongi gets back to him a mere two days later, texting Seokjin to meet him at “their usual spot” on the roof—a string of words that has his heart skipping a beat. It could also be an anticipatory response to the potential answer, one that Seokjin finds himself a little nervous of.
Seokjin waits in the early morning chill as Yoongi makes his way through, and distractedly thinks again of how small Yoongi is—but with a formidable presence anyway. He tries not to think about how he doesn’t feel scared anymore—but rather comforted by it.
“So. Did you think about it?”
Yoongi doesn’t respond immediately, instead offering Seokjin a thermos of hot coffee. Seokjin feels his throat close up, accepting it gracefully.
“Yeah,” Yoongi says, wrapping his hands around his own thermos. “I thought about what you said—and it made sense. But mostly I realised that sooner or later, someone would ask, right?” A sip. Gaze into the distance. “They’d question why we already aren’t living together or something like it. I guess in the grand scheme of time, this was bound to happen.”
“That is exactly what I was thinking,” Seokjin breathes, shaken to his core. He’s rarely met people who think like him in the truest sense of the word. “I’m surprised no one’s asked yet why we drive separately to work.”
Yoongi’s eyes widen a fraction. “Oh. Right.” He looks away, biting the inner corner of his lip. “We haven’t been acting like a married couple, have we?”
“No worries, Yoongi-chi. We have papers to prove how perfect we are for each other,” Seokjin jokes, hopefully light-hearted. He doesn’t quite like the way Yoongi’s eyes wander helter-skelter. “Anyway. What’s your verdict?”
“I’m okay with it…sort of?” Yoongi says, phrasing it like a question. “Like I said, I thought about it, and the whole privacy thing. But you’ve been pretty great so far and…”
“And…?” Seokjin prompts.
“Well. You met my parents.”
Understanding fits his brain like a glove. “Ah. So it’s serious.”
“No! Well, yes, but no,” Yoongi says, rolling his eyes. “What I mean to say is—you’ve been to my family home. My family likes you, my mom for certain. And honestly? You’re not half as bad as I thought you’d be.”
Seokjin gasps in fake outrage. Inside, he’s keeling over with weird happiness. “You thought I was bad?”
“I thought you were loud. And you are. But it’s not…the worst,” Yoongi offers begrudgingly, curling into himself but his cheeks dusted…is that light pink? What a gorgeous shade. “You hear things about the Sales rep eventually, you understand what I’m saying?”
Seokjin does. He doesn’t blame Yoongi for having his reservations; so did he about him before this whole thing happened. Yoongi was the quiet, grouchy man who was unapproachable and difficult to work with. Seokjin’s glad that’s proved wrong because frankly, Yoongi’s perhaps the easiest to work with.
“I get it,” Seokjin shrugs, hands in his pocket. “So basically you’re okay with me moving in.”
“We could decide certain days or times, have a couple of backstories ready just in case,” Yoongi says. “You should move into mine.”
“Because you checked out my complex and realised I was right the first time?” Seokjin offers, stomach soaring when he sees Yoongi’s lips twitch slightly.
“I might have done some digging,” Yoongi responds lightly, and Seokjin smiles. “You definitely need to consider your real estate options. The plumbing of your complex is horrendously outdated.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” Seokjin says, and he means it. He simply hasn’t bothered because he has a place to live, and he keeps it nicely. What more does a man need apart from food and a couple of video games that drive him into a near-catatonic state for hours? “I’ll tell Maria first thing in the morning.”
“The sooner we’re rid of her, the better,” Yoongi says simply, but the intent is clear. “Let me know how it goes, alright?”
Seokjin salutes—and they go their separate ways.
♡💍♡
Maria jumps on board so fast, Seokjin is a little concerned with how blood-thirsty corporates can get if they try hard enough. And maybe Seokjin is a little too nice as a person.
“How about this weekend?” Maria asks over the call, and Seokjin stops short. He does notice the leaking pipe as he processes the question so yeah, maybe Yoongi is right. Outdated plumbing, Seokjin’s life is in danger. “Would that be sufficient time?”
“Is there a reason for the rush?” Seokjin asks carefully, peeling the lettuce wraps off the tray. “I was under the impression that we could handle this at our pace.”
A pause. “Of course. We’re just…trying to keep up with the times, so to say.”
Ah. June will get over soon, and with it, the Pride craze. Seokjin tuts under his breath. Unbelievable. “Are the scripts ready, then?”
“Yes! The R&D team has been hard at work, as well as the creatives. But as you rightfully pointed out—it is your home. You can definitely call the shots.”
Seokjin is tiring of this. “Sure. I’ll ask Yoongi how he feels about his home being a studio by the weekend, and get back to you.”
“His home?”
Crap. “I mean, our home, ha-ha.” When he’s received with silence, Seokjin rambles. “I moved into his place, actually. Sometimes I forget it’s ours and we share it at last.”
“Aw, Seokjin, that’s so sweet,” Maria says, and she sounds genuine too. Seokjin’s belly clenches—with the lies or the frequent strangeness, he’s not sure. “Of course, there’s no rush. I’m sorry for being so pushy on this. You’re right, sharing your home with the world can be a daunting process.”
“Right. And Yoongi is a private person, so I don’t want to assume on his behalf,” Seokjin bullshits—and then realises he means it. “That’s not how marriage works.”
“Yes. That’s what we wanted to portray through the commercial as well. Seems like I chose the right people for it, huh?” Maria muses and Seokjin smiles blandly on his end. That’s not how marriage works. Somehow, the words feel soothing and real. “Alright then, let me know and we can arrange things accordingly.”
They bid each other goodnight—but Seokjin spends the whole night thinking about the words, and how easily they spilled out of his mouth.
Yoongi’s a champ—he agrees almost instantly. Almost being the keyword, because he has conditions.
“You’d have to bring your own bed,” Yoongi says when they meet at the bar. Jimin is nowhere to be found this time, and Seokjin misses his flamboyant presence. Unless he’s with Taehyung, doing unspeakable things. “I sleep on a single. Don’t need a lot of space.”
“You’re kidding. And when I have to go back to mine?” Seokjin asks, incredulous. “Nonsense. Let’s buy a new bed.”
Now Yoongi looks disbelieving. “Are you insane? For this?”
“Yes, for this,” Seokjin says, stabbing the grilled chicken viciously. “My broad shoulders cannot possibly fit into a single with you.”
“We could try fitting in. I’m small enough,” Yoongi tries innocently, but he sounds serious.
“I’d have to hug you and sleep? That’s gay.”
Yoongi looks at him deadpanned. “Hyung, we’re married.”
“On paper!”
“By the law,” Yoongi drawls, his eyes amused. Seokjin doesn’t find this hilarious. Okay, it’s a little funny but… “Are you spooked?”
“Of course, I’m spooked!” Seokjin exclaims, shovelling more of the salad leaves in his mouth. “I saw the scripts. They’ll do some sort of house tour; they certainly cannot see me struggling on an air mattress when I’m married, Yoongi-chi, how preposterous—” He catches Yoongi’s shoulders shaking, hand hiding his mouth—and Seokjin is a right fool. “Oh. You weren’t serious.”
“I know how this works, I’m gay enough to have read fanfiction.”
“Yes, except this isn’t an ‘and there was only one bed’ kind of thing,” Seokjin says, neck itching. “Interesting. We just had our first quarrel, Yoongi. How do you feel about it?”
“Nice detour from the fact that you’ve read fanfiction,” Yoongi snorts, sipping his beer. “I feel pretty good, hyung. We’re great at marriage, didn’t we establish this already?”
“Let’s see how we live together before we pass judgement,” Seokjin says lightly, munching on the fries now. “I’ll buy another single. That way we can have two beds and avoid the cliché.”
“How thoughtful.”
“I’m nothing if not a magnanimous hyung,” Seokjin crows, throwing his shoulders back. “We can go to IKEA after.”
“This is getting more and more serious.”
“We’re seriously nailing this.”
“That’s definitely what happens to a bed from IKEA,” Yoongi says, and Seokjin snorts. “Bedding, sorted. Holly?”
“What about him?”
“We have to establish you as his best friend…imagine filming you and my dog hates you.”
“You’re so sure he will?”
“Holly has taste,” Yoongi says, and Seokjin swears his chest puffs out just a little bit. “You have to win him over.”
“I’m great with dogs.”
“Parents first, now animals?”
“I’m the man of all hearts,” Seokjin winks, and Yoongi ducks down to hide a smile. “We’ll figure something out. They say dogs often take on the characters of their owners.”
“Are you saying I’m like Holly?” Yoongi squints. Seokjin shrugs.
“If his dad has such excellent taste, I’m sure he’ll be fine with me,” Seokjin says, and Yoongi’s cheeks dust that light pink again. It’s fascinating. “Enough flirtation. We are on a mission now.”
“What’s that?”
“To make your home look like a married couple’s haven by the weekend,” Seokjin says, standing up and leaving the bill and the tip on the table. “Let’s go.”
“Are you suggesting we skip the rest of the workday for shopping?”
“Yes. We are newly married. The euphoria has resulted in…expulsion.”
Yoongi wrinkles his nose. “I hate the way you phrased that. Just say high libido.”
“That’s not public friendly.”
“I’m just going to go.” Yoongi gets up, actually making his way out the exit. Seokjin scrambles to follow him, hastily paying the bill. By the time he’s done, Yoongi’s already at the car. The man sure does walk fast.
“Where to?” Seokjin asks, twirling the car keys in one hand. Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “You’d really go to IKEA for me?”
“No, I’m going for the nice and easy-on-the-eyes Swedish furniture.”
“Yoongi, at least try to be romantic,” Seokjin pouts, opening the door with a huff. “We have an image to maintain.”
“Who’s watching?”
“God. We married under his holy gaze.” Yoongi presses his mouth into a thin line. “Okay, no one’s watching. But we should get, you know, comfortable. So that when people do watch, it’s light and breezy.”
“You have really thought this through, huh?”
“That acting fantasy paid off, I guess,” Seokjin replies easily. His chest is bursting with happiness. “Do you actually like IKEA?”
“I like interior designing and architecture in general,” Yoongi says, leaning back into the passenger seat. “In another life, I would have studied that.”
Well, that’s surprising. Yoongi doesn’t strike him as someone who can…build things. He’s just so dainty. Wait, is Seokjin stereotyping? “IKEA is hell, though.”
Yoongi nods, serious. “Agreed. I like building things, but for how simple it projects itself, the instructions are impossible.”
Finally, someone who gets it. “Yes! I’ve probably hurt more body parts than pieces of wood trying to figure it out.” Seokjin makes a turn. “But hey, it’s cheap.”
Yoongi’s satisfied hum is the only indication of agreement that Seokjin receives before they reach their destination. From then on, it’s actually silent—and the comfortable kind, one Seokjin doesn’t feel the urge to cover up.
Watching Yoongi shop is interesting. There’s a method to it, and he pays attention, sometimes commenting on an interior or furniture aspect that should not be impressing Seokjin like this—but it is. That’s the weird part. He’s heard Namjoon rattle on and on about similar things for hours without batting an eyelid (or lending an ear, really), but Yoongi doing it is somehow fascinating. Maybe Seokjin is a mean hyung to his cousins, who knew?
They finally get to the section of single beds that Yoongi says matches both his bed as well as his room. It hits Seokjin then, that he’s out here shopping with his fake-real husband to set up a fake married life for a bunch of food commercials—and he’s yet to see the damn place.
All this so he can earn more. Capitalism really stretched its limits.
Seokjin’s contribution to this joint venture is choosing his pillows and blankets just because he can now since he has extra money. He has a vision in his mind; an old place, but something new. Familiarity and excitement. Maybe pass it off as a wedding gift? Yoongi made this for me. He’s actually really good at building things. Total bullshit, but that’s what the writers will eat up. We haven’t broken in the bed yet, ha-ha.
Wait. He shouldn’t be making sexual innuendos in his head in a fucking IKEA of all places.
They make the purchases, walking to the car. The workday is over, so Seokjin offers to drop Yoongi home. This turns to Yoongi inviting Seokjin over, just to get a ‘feel for the place’.
It’s a marvellous home.
Or so it seems at first glance before he is practically attacked by a brown poof of a cloud. “Woah, hey!”
“Holly, down!” Yoongi says loudly—and Seokjin follows the command, looking down to meet the most poetic brown eyes right in the middle of a brown face. He leans down automatically, holding his hand out for the dog to sniff. “Oh, he likes you.”
Yoongi sounds surprised. Seokjin is fascinated by how tiny a poodle actually is, and how cute. Also how not Yoongi this breed is, which is surprising him more than he can show. “He’s adorable.”
He pets the dog, cooing as he flips over and allows Seokjin to scratch at his belly. Yoongi tinkers around in the kitchen, but there is a proud smile on his face as he watches them. “He is. Got him a couple of years back. My baby, aren’t you, Holly-yah?”
Baby voice. He’s using a baby voice, and Seokjin cannot face this news alone. Yoongi sets the kettle on and then makes his way over, making grabby gestures at Holly with his face all scrunched up. “Come here, Holly, Appa missed you so much today!”
Oh no. That’s even cuter.
“My goodness, who are you?” Seokjin says out loud, before realising it was supposed to be an internal thought. Oops. “I mean. Yeah.”
Yoongi continues rubbing Holly’s fur and making her do hi-fives, and she’s so small Seokjin’s heart hurts. “Tell anyone at work about this and I will make your life hell.”
Ah, the infamous recluse Yoongi, the one people were scared of and would make rumours about every few months. The difference now, however, is that Seokjin has been gifted with the knowledge of what an absolute marshmallow Yoongi is beneath the tough exterior, so he finds the threat impressive. “Scout’s honour, I’m taking this with me to the grave.”
Yoongi snorts. “Right. My bet is on either Taehyung or Hoseok knowing.”
“You’re right, I will absolutely let Taehyung know so he can force you to have an insufferable doggie play date with Yeontan,” Seokjin admits happily, walking over to the kitchen. “I’ll help myself, you can keep playing.”
He faces the open kitchen plan—and he shouldn’t have. He’s not sure if he’ll ever want to leave this place—or if he’s ever seen a kitchen so beautifully organised.
Swallowing down the sudden lump of emotion rising in his chest, he keeps his eyes down and pours them both the tea. He is not going to lose it over kitchen appliances and organisation. Even though at first glance, Yoongi’s kitchen has walked straight out of a magazine. But no. He cannot be seen as a 30-year-old kitchen nerd, that’s silly.
They don’t explore the rest of the house today, instead choosing to have tea right there on the floor while Holly plays between them. Seokjin knows, however, what a show of trust this is for Yoongi, to let him get past his threshold and perhaps even the kitchen. How scared this space is to him. While he hasn’t looked deep into Yoongi’s past or reasons for being the way he is—he understands.
Yoongi’s quiet as he sips, but Seokjin thinks Yoongi understands him too.
♡💍♡
Maybe Gen Z Is Right About Husband Material
♡💍♡
The IKEA shipment is delivered in the next two days, at a time when Seokjin can’t make it back early due to a marketing campaign. Yoongi decides to build it for him—it’ll give him something to do, and not think so much.
A part of him is questioning why he’s so easygoing about this entire thing, but the larger part of him is strangely enjoying it.
It helps that ever since he introduced Seokjin to his parents, they’ve been quiet and respectful. His mother has texted in between asking after him, and Yoongi can tell she approves. Seokjin had been amazing, both at his home and in front of Maria—he’s not surprised, considering the man is the head of Sales for a reason.
Letting him inside his home prematurely was an accidental intention, if Yoongi can put it across that way. He hadn’t meant to offer—but it slipped out, especially with how respectful Seokjin was of Yoongi’s choices so far. And though it had slipped out—Yoongi’s glad he carried it through.
Mostly, he’s glad Holly likes him, which is important and non-negotiable.
He makes a weekend detour for home, just to check in on his family and any wedding preparations they may need him for. The house is getting decorated slowly to celebrate a wedding in the family, and Yoongi smiles as he hears a trot song coming through. It reminds him of Seokjin and his obnoxious playlist whenever they’ve driven in his car. He’s by far the most Korean Korean-American he’s come across yet—it eases a void inside him somewhere. Ever since he came here, he’s always been looking for a home.
Seokjin sometimes feels like one, though Yoongi can’t explain how.
His mother opens the door, greeting him with a hug as he bends down into her embrace, and he helps carry the basket in her hands. It’s to be a small wedding in their local church, and so his family is doing everything from scratch with the occasional help from fellow Korean members of their community. It’s heart-warming, and Yoongi tags along.
Later, his mother gets him alone—as they make the wedding gifts for the guests, Yoongi’s deft hands working on the bows for each package.
“How’s Seokjin, Yoongi-yah?” His mother begins, casual and happy, a glow on her face. It must be nice, being able to marry one’s son off at last. “I haven’t heard much since the lunch. All good?”
“All good, Eomma,” Yoongi says and finds it’s not a lie. He genuinely does feel good, content in a way he hasn’t for a while. He’d been scared, back when he’d proposed the plan to Seokjin. It’s a surprise to see it work out this well. “Seokjin is just busy. There’s a new marketing campaign at work that he’s caught up in.”
“He seems hard-working. A good fit for selling, no?” She asks, winking, and Yoongi huffs, cheeks heating. “How is your relationship?”
She frames it so carefully like she’s unsure if it’s the right thing to say or not. Yoongi appreciates the attempt. “It’s good. He’s a great guy, really.”
“How so?”
Yoongi blinks. So far, whenever the topic of Yoongi’s queerness came about, his parents would skirt around the topic—not out of shame, but a vague sense of confusion. This is a first for his mother. “Um. What do you mean?”
“I mean…” She frowns, focusing on the packaging. “You said dating. That’s different from a relationship, isn’t it? At least, that’s how Jiminie explained one time.”
Of course, Jimin would indulge his mom in a whole current dating discussion. “Yeah. Dating is to find out if we match. A relationship is…like a mutual understanding, I guess. That we do.”
“Ah. Like being introduced and then a courtship, like in our times,” his mother nods, and Yoongi’s heart warms. “And is there?”
“What?”
“An understanding?”
Yoongi opens his mouth almost on reflex to say no—before he stops. Reflects. He’s always known of Seokjin, where he existed on the periphery of Yoongi’s tenure at Galant. The office loudmouth, the life of the insufferable office events that Yoongi was forced to attend. He never paid attention—but over the past almost three weeks or so that he’s closely associated with Seokjin—he’s come to know a different person.
A person Yoongi has an understanding with.
“Yeah,” Yoongi whispers, frozen at the ribbon. Yes, he’s loud—but it’s a crafted loud. Seokjin’s the life so that others are at ease. So that people like Yoongi can keep in the background while everyone else scuttles to him. It’s a small mercy, one that Yoongi had never thought about it. “He’s a quiet guy actually.”
“Really? Didn’t seem that way the other day.”
“He likes making sure people are—comfortable,” Yoongi starts, warming up and focusing on his task even as his mind races. “But he’s quiet most of the time. He makes the worst dad jokes and that can get annoying but—where it matters, he’s there. A presence, I guess.”
Where are these words coming from? Ever since this scheme began, Yoongi hasn’t thought about Seokjin—or expected himself to have these opinions. They just existed, playing a part—but had he really observed him so much?
His mother is smiling fondly at him, cheek in hand. “Hmm. That is the understanding your father and I have, too.”
It’s cryptic, and Yoongi gulps at the implication while his mother goes back to finishing the work laid out for them. It’s not like that though— they’re simply doing things in order to make their jobs and lives easier. That’s all. Seokjin’s plan allows Yoongi to earn more, and if the negotiation for the home tour goes right—Yoongi could have a promotion he convinced himself he never cared about.
It’s not the kind of understanding his mother is talking about, but for now—he won’t break her heart just yet.
♡💍♡
Contrary to Yoongi’s expectations (and experience) so far—Seokjin enters his home quietly.
On a Friday evening after work, Seokjin parks his car in the visitor’s slot, single-handedly carrying his essentials so effortlessly Yoongi’s impressed. He definitely works out, because when he appears at Yoongi’s front door—he’s not red in the slightest or out of breath. Unbelievable.
“I’ve set your bed up,” is how Yoongi greets him, opening the door wide while Seokjin walks in, sure of his footsteps even though his vision is blocked. “You can set it in the room for now. I’ll help you unpack later.”
“How thoughtful, husband dear,” Seokjin says, setting the boxes down and stretching. Hmm, flexible too. He’d be great at cleaning out those pesky corners behind Yoongi’s fridge. “Please tell me there is food?”
“I just finished preparing the naengmyeon. Need to serve it, that’s all,” Yoongi says, walking towards the kitchen. He’d been tired after a whole day of cooking and researching, but given that it was Seokjin’s first stay—he decided to go ahead with a low-effort summer dish. Hopefully, Seokjin appreciated Korean food, despite the ridiculous garlic allergy. “Hope that’s cool?”
He receives no response and turns around to check—only to find Seokjin staring at him—or well, right through him, looking down with his ears red. Maybe he too struggles with eye contact the way Yoongi does.
“I think my heart just skipped a beat,” Seokjin says, clapping his hands and joining him at the kitchen island. That’s a generous description, but Yoongi’s put effort into redecorating with what he had. “Hell yes, it’s cool. I love naengmyeon.”
“You better. I didn’t slave over searching for and preparing the raw materials only to be rejected,” Yoongi says, though he doesn’t mean the snark. He likes cooking regardless.
“Aw, Yoongi-chi, did you go through all this effort for me?” Seokjin pouts, and Yoongi turns away. “Excited to host your husband for the first time?”
“Maybe you should starve,” Yoongi says decidedly, and Seokjin gasps in mock outrage. Yoongi smiles to himself.
“You would never,” Seokjin says, maintaining a safe distance as if he somehow knows that Yoongi takes time letting people into his kitchen. He bows his head when Yoongi serves him a bowl. “You built the bed, you said?”
“I had nothing to do today,” Yoongi answers, digging into his own bowl. “You can put your bedding or pillow on it later.”
“Thank you,” Seokjin murmurs, slurping the noodles. “Wah, this is really good.”
“Yeah?”
“I would marry you in a heartbeat if you’d been a woman,” Seokjin says seriously, and Yoongi snorts. “But hey—a man is good enough.”
“For who? Your parents or you?”
“Both,” Seokjin shrugs. “I think Taehyung coming out first was a shock, but then Namjoon following through softened the blow. At this point they just want all three of us settled.”
“Through marriage?”
“No, just settled,” Seokjin clarifies, munching happily on banchan. “Although with the way you’ve cooked this, I think they’d willingly turn a blind eye.”
Yoongi curls his shoulders in. “You’re optimistic.”
“I’m an opportunist, actually,” Seokjin says, finishing his bowl and standing up. “I’m the maknae of my family, so I guess there’s a bit of a grace granted there.”
“Not that much grace.”
“If you’re asking if they’re okay with all this, I don’t know. I just like to think they wouldn’t mind it.”
Seokjin then raises his empty bowl, eyebrows raised—and Yoongi nods, a silent permission to enter the kitchen. It’s a cozy thing, a tight fit if the two of them cooked side by side but for a moment, Yoongi can see it.
It would be a nice image for a change.
“Do you cook?” Yoongi asks, joining him at the sink and handing over his bowl when Seokjin puts a hand out. “Like, if I put you on cooking duty.”
“Oh, absolutely! I’d love to contribute.”
“Korean food, too?”
“Obviously,” Seokjin snorts, a haughty pink around his neck. He looks so smug. “I’ve been cooking since I was a teenager, actually. Always liked food.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I even had a mukbang channel in my early twenties before the travesty of corporate life caught up to me,” Seokjin says, stacking the dishes to dry. “I like eating. Figured I should know how to cook. It’s fun.”
“I agree. Geumjae hyung is the one who taught me, actually,” Yoongi offers, feeling compelled to for some reason. He likes the easy way Seokjin reveals information like it’s no big deal. Because it isn’t, in the face of things. “He has a restaurant in Koreatown.”
“What?! No way,” Seokjin exclaims, eyes wide. “I must have eaten there, then.”
“Maybe,” Yoongi shrugs. Seokjin, however, turns around and almost grabs Yoongi by the shoulders before thinking better of it and putting them on his hips looking exactly like an ahjussi. “What?”
“Do you realise what this means?”
“I’m sure I’ll be thrilled to find out.”
“It means we were always meant to be, Yoongi-chi, wah, the world is so small—!”
Yoongi shoves a spoonful of leftover naengmyeon in Seokjin’s mouth for damage control.
It’s awkward having another person in his private space. Or at least, Yoongi thinks it should be—but Seokjin is…a very chill roommate.
He has a million-step skincare routine, and a particular set of bedtime items he apparently needs for his ‘beauty sleep’, but apart from that…he’s a quiet guest. If Yoongi closes his eyes, he could easily pretend he’s alone.
Yoongi works on some final reports, and Seokjin is on his bed, quietly playing a video game on his phone. The general peace is interrupted by a number of gaming noises, but it’s almost like music. Seokjin curses softly under his breath, and something tells Yoongi that he’s being mindful.
He turns in the reports, suddenly tired when he sees his bed. His room is drastically smaller now with a second bed, but it’s the cozy sort. Despite it being his residence, Yoongi feels shy about having someone in his room and being imposing on them. He wants to shut the light, but he’s not sure if he can ask.
“Hey, do you mind if we shut the light?”
There’s no response; instead, Seokjin turns it off without a word, muting his phone as well. Yoongi is encased in darkness.
A wave of gratitude overwhelms him out of nowhere. What for, he can’t name, but right then—he’s glad Seokjin isn’t a douchebag.
♡💍♡
The crew comes by bright and early on Saturday morning—and Yoongi is freaking out.
Seokjin takes care of breakfast, leaving Yoongi alone with his laundry and bedroom and the noise-cancellation earphones that would shut him out of this world. He’d agreed to it, but right before they enter—Yoongi regrets it.
Maria is there as a liaison, along with a small crew and a couple of creatives, who are pretty young. One of them is even Korean, which Yoongi suspects are the company’s attempt to put them at ease.
“Now isn’t that just delightful representation,” Seokjin whispers while they set up the cameras, and Yoongi snorts into his hand, relief leaking into his shoulders that at least someone understands. “He’s sweet, though. Look at his eyes.”
“That’s a galaxy trapped in them,” Yoongi adds, focusing on the scene in front of him instead of how there are strangers in his kitchen and his home, in his space and how they’d probably mess up everything— “We should introduce ourselves.”
“Do we have to?”
“Isn’t that good manners?”
“Good manners are letting absolute strangers in our home,” Seokjin says breezily, and Yoongi’s stomach clenches at the easy way Seokjin said ours. “I will have a word with Maria if these American heathens mess up your chef knife set.”
“You noticed those?”
“You didn’t see the way I salivated over them last night?” Seokjin asks, and Yoongi shakes his head. Seokjin shrugs. “Wow, my beauty must be really blinding, then.”
Yoongi laughs.
He can’t help it. It’s such a ridiculous statement—but maybe that’s why Yoongi likes it so much. Because Seokjin doesn’t try hard to win points; he just is and he likes being that way. He’s sure Seokjin has his own struggles and skeletons that they haven’t talked about—but Yoongi likes how genuine Seokjin is with himself.
It attracts the attention of the crew and Maria, however, which makes him stop, hiding his mouth behind his hand. If these people rope him into some sort of post-wedding photography shoot, Yoongi will combust and run away from society for real.
The kid with bright eyes comes over. “Hello, sunbaenim! I’m Terry Kang, from the Creatives Team,” he says, bowing hastily. He’s a short guy, but eager looking—Yoongi pegs him as a sweet, industry fresher. “I was assigned to this project so I could explain the vision better.”
“Never thought I’d hear two distinctly sounding names together like this,” Seokjin replies, and Terry blushes. “What’s your actual name, kid?”
“Uh. Taehyun. Kang Taehyun,” he says, shuffling his feet. “Born brought up in the States.”
“Ooh, same here,” Seokjin says, and Yoongi is once again taken by how easily Seokjin shows up in public. When last night, he’d seen a different version of the man—a quiet one, content and happy in his own company. Not the insufferable extrovert Yoongi had thought him to be.
Within moments, Seokjin has information on Taehyun—he’s currently a university student ten years younger than them (goodness), this is his summer internship with Galant because he’s interested in pursuing some sort of creative field within the food industry, and that he’s originally from LA, so he rooms with a couple of other Asian-Americans he met in college. Taehyun is so fresh, Yoongi actually wants to feed him some food and foster that creativity into something better than Galant’s relentless minority-mongering bullshit. But alas, such is life.
“Okay, we’re good to go!” Maria claps, and Taehyun kicks into action, opening a couple of pages full of notes. “Terry, you can go ahead.”
Yoongi reads the document handed to him; it’s the script they’re supposed to follow. Maria has taken their request into account, so while the two of them won’t be advertised as husbands (Yoongi does not want his mother to find out this way—or ever, actually), there would be enough queer coding that will get the message across. How marvellous.
“Try not to make a socio-political commentary on this,” Seokjin whispers, once Taehyun leaves them be. “Remember—salary and promotion.”
“I hear you,” Yoongi hums quietly, scoffing at one of the scenes where Seokjin is supposed to ‘help’ Yoongi by cutting vegetables from behind. They would never understand true queer romance. “But this is bullshit.”
“Yes. I agree.”
“Like, why are you the one behind me?”
“Because my shoulders will hide your handsome face?” Seokjin suggests, and Yoongi really wishes he’d stop making jokes at such moments. “Or probably because I look, like, a masculine guy.”
“This stereotyping is really going to make me—” He catches Seokjin’s gaze and sighs. “Okay. No socio-political commentary.”
“If you want, I will give you exclusive night-time venting hours later on.”
“Why night-time?”
“That way you can talk dirty to me.”
Yoongi blinks. Seokjin blinks right back in slow motion. Then Yoongi rubs his face—before smacking Seokjin’s (seriously broad, what the hell) shoulders with his script paper. Seokjin laughs, a squeaky sound that really should grate on his ears but is actually refreshing.
“Let’s just get this over with,” Yoongi grumbles, strolling towards the kitchen and refusing to make eye contact with anyone.
It’s every bit as excruciating as he’d imagined—not because it’s Seokjin, who is respectful and sweet, maintaining his distance and never touching Yoongi unnecessarily—but because there are people watching them. And they apparently have some expectations of gay couples.
“I’m sorry to point this out again, but could you guys be a bit more…comfy?” Maria suggests after Take Number 5, and even Taehyun winces—though the kid can’t know why, right? “I love the skill, but the distance—it makes you both look so awkward.”
Yoongi is just about this close to losing his patience, but before he can open his mouth to snap about how awkward he can make Maria feel—Seokjin squeezes his shoulder, pushing him behind so casually it feels normal.
“Ah, Maria, come on now,” he says brightly, turning up his full charm. Maybe defining Seokjin as straight is ridiculous because no label would make sense on a man so gifted. “As much as I appreciate the openness of Galant’s campaign, surely you realise this is happening in our home? It’s natural to feel awkward. Embarrassing even! And that’s okay.”
Maria blushes to the roots of her hair, looking chastised. Seokjin rolls his shoulders back, turning towards the crew. “It’s Yoongi’s first time doing this, and ours too. I apologise if we’re the cause of any delay. But sharing our space is taking us some time.”
There is silence, and then—
“I think that makes a lot of sense,” Taehyun suggests, posture timid but his voice strong. “I have an idea! Why don’t we just…let them do their thing, and work around that? Instead of forcing a particular idea on them?”
God above, Yoongi loves this kid. He has half a mind to rant to everyone about forceful heterosexualisation and how not cool that is for their campaign, and maybe a rant or two about how they’re money-hungry capitalist losers who couldn’t even bother to do research on actual gay couples—
“Shh, Yoongi-chi, calm down,” Seokjin whispers then, shoulders sticking close. “Don’t let the system win.”
“We’re in this mess because of the system,” Yoongi deadpans, watching as they rearrange the set again. “The system is absolutely winning.”
“Not with that attitude, it won’t,” Seokjin says, clapping his hands suddenly. “You know what? Let’s do what Taehyun said. Drop the behind position, and just do our thing. Cool?”
“We don’t have our thing, hyung.”
“Nonsense! We absolutely do,” Seokjin scoffs, going behind the counter and coming up with the chef-set, which he handles rather deftly, and taking out the readymade can of tteokboki. “With this delicious, nutritional pack of spicy rice cakes, we’ll make sure our Korean brothers and sisters carry a piece of home with them, wherever they go!”
He says this in an obnoxiously, studio-perfect loud voice, and Yoongi follows, taking out the ingredients—except this time, they do so side by side, some sort of automatic rhythm.
“Did you say wherever they go?”
“Indeed I did!” Seokjin exclaims, holding the can to the camera that apparently switched on to catch them. Don’t mind them, Yoongi. Just focus on Seokjin and how amazing he is at this work. Salary and promotion and ooh, wide shoulders— “No more waiting or looking for the nearest Koreatown or your relatives to bring along food! Instead, with the Galant Exquisite Asian range, you get to make readymade Asian dishes—without half the complication!”
Yoongi holds up another packet—he doesn’t even know what it is, but for once, he’s having fun. “No more pesky shipping charges or overpriced import rates! With our reasonably priced range, you get the taste of home whenever, wherever!”
It ends with the two of them taking out the readymade dishes, and digging into them—and as much as Yoongi finds the whole affair annoying, the product is good. It has to be, considering Yoongi was a big part of the research for the items.
The director shouts cut, and the lights shut down—before the crew bursts into applause.
“Wow, that was amazing, you guys!” Maria yells, coming over to hug them—Seokjin immediately fights for her attention so she doesn’t touch Yoongi for longer than required, and Yoongi is grateful. “You’re right, this definitely suits your vibe compared to before.”
“Yeah, ‘cause we’re not straight,” Yoongi mutters, unable to help himself, and Seokjin laughs extra loud, distracting Maria once again. “If you’ll excuse me.”
He walks to his—sorry, their— room, shutting the door and wilting against it at the sudden silence. It’s dark due to the black-out curtains, and Holly is sleeping away in his tiny bed. Yoongi walks over and brushes his fur back, sighing to himself.
“Yah, Holly yah, what has Appa got himself into, huh?” Yoongi murmurs, smiling when he looks up blearily. He pets him a few more times. Next to him is a new toy—one that Yoongi recognises as Seokjin’s. Did it belong to his old pet? “Never mind. Appa will be able to buy you even more things once this is over, okay?”
Holly goes back to sleep, and Yoongi allows himself a couple more moments before the guilt of leaving Seokjin behind to fend for himself hits him, and he waddles out—only to find Seokjin pitching something.
Pitching…cheesecake?
“This is actually a Korean speciality,” Seokjin says, taking a forkful out. “I’m sure the research team is looking for ideas, and you guys would love it.”
Yoongi feels himself smiling.
“Looks like regular cheesecake though?” Maria says, confused but intrigued, and Yoongi can’t believe this. It’s always fun to mess with people, especially ones who have been in his home the whole day.
“It’s actually tofu,” Yoongi adds, slipping around the people and joining Seokjin, who eats the cake happily, cheeks stuffed full. “A sweet kind. Specially dried in…Texas.”
Somewhere, Taehyun coughs into his hands, his eyes shining. He keeps quiet though, like the good kid he is.
“Texas…?” Maria asks, and Yoongi nods. “But Seokjin said it’s a Korean speciality?”
“The main ingredient actually comes from Texas, however. It’s hard to get in Korea,” Yoongi says, nodding seriously. “We’re a small country, after all. There was so much American influence during the 1950s, it makes sense, doesn’t it?”
“It really looks like cheesecake to me,” one of the crew says, leaning closer—and Yoongi swoops in with a fork, startling him.
“Are you questioning the intelligence of the Research Head of the Food Development Team?” Seokjin gasps, placing a hand over his chest. Yoongi hides a laugh behind his hand. The crew-man looks alarmed.
“No! I’m just pointing out…the obvious…”
“You think you know more about Korea than Koreans?” Seokjin continues, eyes wide and ears red, and it’s the funniest thing Yoongi’s been a part of yet. “Wah, that’s new. Didn’t think I’d experience that in good old America.”
The crewman looks like he’d burst into tears. Maria looks red, too. “I’m sure that wasn’t it—”
“Really, and then questioning the reality of our experience,” Seokjin says, shaking his head in disappointment. He hasn’t stopped eating the cheesecake, though. “I didn’t expect such insensitivity from your crew, Maria.”
Maria looks appalled, eyes shaking. “I’m not sure—I didn’t mean—they didn’t mean to, I mean—”
“Look at that now, Yoongi’s not feeling so well,” Seokjin pouts, and everyone’s attention turns to Yoongi—who drops the fork and turns around, making sure his shoulders shake a bit. Seokjin squeezes them briefly. “He’s had such a tough time adjusting to the States, things like this really affect him.”
“I’m so sorry!” Maria exclaims, sounding genuine. Poor thing. Unfortunately for her, Yoongi wants these people out. “Crew, let’s pack up. It’s been a long day.” Shuffling sounds emerge, maybe a few choice swear words but Yoongi holds his face in his hands and takes a few deep breaths. “Ah, Yoongi, I’m so sorry. Robert didn’t mean to insinuate that he knows more about your culture or country. I’ll draft a formal apology first thing Monday morning.”
Yoongi just nods, allowing Seokjin to stand in front of him and make it seem like he’s leaning his head against those shoulders. Seokjin’s hand squeeze the sides of his arms. Up so close, he smells nice, like ocean breeze and wood spice. Yoongi has a thing for good smells.
It takes them ten minutes to leave, Seokjin enthusiastically waving goodbye and thanking the people, letting them know of ‘how tired Yoongi’s been lately, I don’t want to overdo it for him, you know?’ and God, Yoongi’s grateful. Truly.
Once the door shuts—Yoongi looks up—and finally, finally breathes.
“Phew, that was a racket,” Seokjin says, folding his shirt sleeves and sitting on the barstool on the opposite end. The place is a mess, and while Yoongi is not finicky, he wants the presence of people gone. Seokjin takes the abandoned fork and takes one more bite. “I don’t know about you, but this tofu’s really well-fermented, isn’t it?”
A moment, two and then—
“Hyung, what the hell was that,” Yoongi chortles, unable to hold it back. “Cheesecake, really?”
“Listen, Maria began walking around the kitchen asking me to show ‘authentic’ Asian dishes and I was like, we do eat American food, y’know? But she was pressing a lot so…”
“And making it about race, too,” Yoongi snorts, taking his spoon and sitting down, sharing the leftovers. “Ingenious.”
“Nothing shakes the Americans more than a little reminder of racism,” Seokjin says, licking at the fork…which is also somehow pretty when he does it. Seriously, what is Seokjin? “They were taking too much space.”
He says it so quietly, it almost goes amiss—but Yoongi freezes, focusing on the words. What they mean. “You noticed?”
Seokjin doesn’t answer immediately. “They really were crossing lines, weren’t they?” And then he smiles. Yoongi offers one back—begrudgingly. Only because he’s not sure how to contain the magnanimity of what he’s feeling right now.
They eat in silence, finishing the last of it. Yoongi cleans up the used dishes, and Seokjin dries them and sets them out. Yoongi decides to leave the mess for tomorrow—and Seokjin quietly follows, where they engage in their individual routines that they’ve set in the past week.
The past week where they didn’t have to stay together.
Seokjin shuts off the light without protest, but Yoongi lies wide awake in the dark. It’s unusual for someone to be this observant, to understand Yoongi without asking him to explain. A strange emotion locks up in his throat, which, try as he might, he can’t swallow down.
Just when he thinks Seokjin is asleep—the man of the hour speaks again.
“Also, tofu? From Texas?”
“It could not have been more obvious than that.”
“And yet they believed it.”
“Yep, they did.”
Silence. And then Seokjin laughs, different from his usual squeaky one—this is deep, resonating within Yoongi’s bones.
“Well, I think cakes taste better when you lie about them, anyway.”
Yoongi goes to sleep with a smile stretched on his face.
♡💍♡
And They Were Roommates
♡💍♡
Seokjin’s life with Yoongi slots in neatly in the grand stack of Dominoes that is his life. Except the chips are stuck to the ground and there’s no chance of them toppling over because Yoongi is—an amazing roommate.
If there’s one skill Seokjin picked up from the University of Life, it is to be an easygoing person. The kind that puts people at ease, jokes and plays around and generally is a comfortable presence. Seokjin wasn’t the master of anything, but he always believed being a nice person couldn’t harm anyone.
What he finds, however, is that it’s not as much of a chore doing the same with Yoongi as he feels at times with others. It’s almost natural—they drive back home together now, which is great for his fuel expenditure. The routine is a rhythm of its own—get into the car, put on a trot song or a ballad or even rap, pick out groceries sometimes and actually buy a good amount of the Korean stuff because he now has someone to cook with. Someone who understands his passion for food, and is skilled at it.
Not to mention, living with Yoongi is easy. Seokjin had pegged him to be the finicky, careful sort of a person, and Yoongi is, but for specific things which don’t concern Seokjin much. He’s not too protective about his kitchen or his chef-set (those are a dream), allows Seokjin to partake in Holly's duties or play his songs loudly at times and just—it’s really nice.
It’s nice to share his space with someone.
Seokjin hadn’t anticipated a man of all people, but hey—he’s not one to complain.
“You’re seeing the light at the end of the prism,” Taehyung snorts as he dips a carrot into mayo. They’re meeting for lunch once again, though Seokjin feels strange not sharing the time with Yoongi. They have battle plans to strategize. “What’s next? I’m in love with my own husband?”
“Ha-ha, you’re hilarious,” Seokjin snarks, though he feels his neck heat up at the statement. That’s ridiculous—Yoongi and he are in this for very obvious reasons which have nothing to do with romance. “It’s not like that. I’m just appreciating Yoongi as a good roommate.”
“Right, roommates,” Taehyung echoes, gulping down the cucumbers next. He’s a heathen to go out with. “Okay, hyung, whatever you say. Just know I support you always, hmm?”
“Yah, you better. I’ve held you by the butt when you were born, brat.”
“Do you have to bring my butt up all the time?”
“I mean, it’s a good one.”
“See, no straight man would ever say that about a dude,” Taehyung says, narrowing his eyes in mock suspicion. Seokjin rolls his own. “Like, you’re hearing yourself, right?”
“You’re literally my brother, please don’t be gross,” Seokjin says instead, ignoring everything. It’s what works best with Taehyung anyway. “How’s Jimin?”
That’s also the easiest way to distract Taehyung—and it works like a charm. His brother lights up, eyes shining and moony, so grossly in love Seokjin almost gags. “Oh, he’s wonderful. I can’t believe I didn’t confess to him sooner.”
“Oh, so you’re on board the monogamous train?”
“Yes, and only for him,” Taehyung says resolutely, bowing at the ahjumma who brings their lunch. “Jimin is five people rolled into one. I never know what’s next with him except all five versions of him are hot and pretty and kind.” Taehyung sighs and Seokjin is alarmed. He knew his brother to be a die-hard romantic but this is… “He’s so good, hyung. I’m so glad you and Yoongi-hyung married because Jimin was destined for me!”
“Glad to be of service,” Seokjin says dryly, making a lettuce wrap. “Something good came out of this, that’s great.”
“What do you mean, hyung? You guys are getting lots of rewards,” Taehyung states, eyes wide and mouth open. Seokjin shuts it for him. “Speaking of—Seokjung hyung is coming soon, right?”
Seokjin groans. Not that he dislikes his brother, but it’s always a big family deal whenever he arrives from Korea. It’s hilarious, how Seokjung left for Korea after graduation and is happily settled there with a wife and a kid. It’s also a sore, unspoken but obvious hint of Seokjin’s grand single life.
“Yep. Eomma is going all out.”
“Sweet. I’ll get to have her family special.”
“So you’re coming for food.”
“No, I just said for family,” Taehyung says sweetly, eyes lit with mischief. Seokjin shakes his head. “I’m thinking of bringing Jimin, too.”
Seokjin stops. Huh. It’s that serious, then. “So soon?”
“I feel like I’ve known him lifetimes,” Taehyung says, chewing at his lower lip. “I know they’ll love him. But yeah, I’ve never…done this before. For anyone.”
Ah, his little brother. Seokjin’s heart melts a bit. “Don’t worry, Taehyung-ah, I’ll be there, okay? Hyung’s got your back.”
Taehyung smiles, and they resume their lunch in silence and mild bickering before Taehyung drops another bomb. “I think you should bring Yoongi-hyung.”
Seokjin halts. “Why the hell would I do that?”
“Because you’re in love and it’s important to share it with the world?”
“Yah, cut that out!” Seokjin barks, while Taehyung giggles. “I told you, it’s not like that.”
“Okay, but Jimin would feel less anxious with hyung around,” Taehyung pouts, widening his eyes a tiny fraction. Oh no, not the Tete look. Seokjin is ruined. “Please, hyungnim? I’ll even give my new year’s pocket money.”
“Do you think I am that cheap,” Seokjin mutters, though both of them know he is that cheap and he will absolutely take the bait, and then quietly return it to Taehyung later on. God, he’s become so soft these days. “Deal. But do not tell anyone that he’s my husband or I swear to god, Taehyung.”
“I won’t. As long as you call him your husband like that,” Taehyung snickers, and Seokjin throws a balled-up tissue at him. “Great, love you, hyung, see you on Sunday.”
Seokjin prays Taehyung doesn’t open his big mouth before that.
♡💍♡
Life carries on without a blunder, which is the best thing Seokjin could ask for.
They play their roles swimmingly—by which Seokjin means no one bats an eye or looks too deep into their sudden office romance or question Seokjin’s hidden sexuality. Yoongi and he maintain a professional distance at work—only meeting during lunch or the parking lot, where they drive off to Yoongi’s home.
Their home.
The commercial is a hit, at least if Seokjin goes by the tweets under Galant’s handle. There are some cries about queer-baiting, but most people seem to be appreciating the display of two men in domestic bliss—a much-needed representation in a heterosexually saturated world.
“This is sad,” Seokjin comments, as he goes through the reports and highlights the success of the campaign. Yoongi’s chopping cabbage leaves by his side, intent on making kimchi. “I didn’t know things were this dry.”
“People just want it to be normal, hyung,” Yoongi says, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. Seokjin looks away hastily; the image is horrifically…nice. In an aesthetic way, of course. “I wish it wasn’t a big deal that two dudes are cooking together. But it is, and yeah, you’re right. It is sad.”
“Come now, Yoongi-chi,” Seokjin tuts, putting away the device, and borrowing a pair of plastic gloves to help. “With our handsome faces? No one’s sad.”
Yoongi smiles. He’s begun to do that a lot these days, and it’s pretty. “Of course. Your handsomeness would trump all social evil.”
“Atta boy. And your domestic skills would win over the hardest of tyrants.”
“Yes. I’m husband material, as the tweets say,” Yoongi says casually, and curse Seokjin’s silly heart, it skips a beat again. Taehyung’s words have been swirling around a lot more than usual these days. “Pass me the sugar?”
And so it goes—they come home, they banter, mostly they exist in quiet bliss that’s not lonely, and—well. Seokjin enjoys this a lot.
He enjoys more the excuses he gets to keep fooling the company. Or at least, that’s how he chooses to justify wanting to spend time with Yoongi.
“A campfire commercial?” Seokjin exclaims as he looks at the latest pitch. Apparently, Galant wishes to create a series of products for easy cooking in the woods. “How does…why would anyone make home food when they’re out there?”
“Precisely because they haven’t been able to is why we’re pitching this idea, Seokjin-ssi,” Maria says, and Taehyun sits next to her rapidly typing away. “We did some research. There are traditional soups which can be made in a thermos-friendly way. We want to give it a shot.”
“Okay…” Seokjin trails, reading through the script. In this, Yoongi and he would camp in one of the national parks, prepare food together over wood fire and pitch the easy accessibility of this latest product. “When do we begin?”
“This weekend.”
Great. It should count as overtime, but then again—they’ve agreed to more perks and promoting Yoongi within his department, so Seokjin keeps shut. “Lovely. Just let us know the date and time.”
At home—home, and no longer just Yoongi’s place— Yoongi laughs at the script, curled into the couch freshly showered. Seokjin fits right next to him, and it is—comfortable. “We’re going camping?”
“Apparently our love will be strongest amongst the woods,” Seokjin deadpans, enamoured with the way Yoongi loosens, chuckling to himself as he reads. “The annoying part is— I’ve made soup for Taehyung and Namjoon before.”
“What, for hiking?”
“Mm. Early morning too. Some sort of nature sunrise thing Namjoon wanted to see, and Taehyung volunteered like an idiot,” Seokjin says, ruffling through his hair. “And because it was family game night, I got the added punishment of cooking for them.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet. It means you have practice.”
“Yah, I’m not making soup for anyone at 3 A.M.”
“Not even for your husband?” Yoongi asks, eyes wide and innocent. Seokjin looks down hastily, fingers curling into claws. “You won’t have to. I’ll be helping you,” Yoongi adds off-handedly, and ugh, why does he have to be such a great sport?
The weekend arrives too fast, and the worst part isn’t actually waking up at three and losing out on his beauty sleep. The worst part is the way Yoongi packs—and how a second marriage proposal is right there on his lips.
Don’t do it. That’s silly. It’s just a man packing efficiently for a camping trip. That’s not the end of the world. Right? Men can pack. It’s not a big deal.
“Is that—is that a first aid kit?” Seokjin whispers, throat choking up with sudden emotion as Yoongi swiftly puts the various boxes and containers in a hiking backpack. With space left. Seokjin will lose it.
Yoongi, curse him, shrugs. As if Seokjin is not about to have a breakdown and maybe a crisis. What kind, he’s not sure yet. “It’s the woods. People get hurt. It’s always good to be prepared.”
Do not swoon like a Victorian woman in the hot sun. You’re better than that. You’re a gentleman, get it together. “Ah. From experience?”
“Well, common sense. But also it’s the responsible thing to do, no?”
Better to get a chair before Seokjin falls down.
They meet the rest of the shooting team in the parking lot after Yoongi had left explicit instructions for Jimin to dog-sit Holly. Seokjin has a feeling Taehyung is going to tag along, but he can see the way Yoongi’s hands are already trembling from nerves, though his face is tranquil. He itches to—to maybe hold it, but that’s weird. Seokjin isn’t the type to initiate physical contact. And yet…
“Yosemite? How original,” Seokjin scoffs, mostly to distract himself from the way Yoongi’s organising both their bags and then some. The crew runs around like headless chickens, but at least his husband is a picture of stability. “How did they even get a booking so fast?”
“They probably planned this months ago, hyung,” Yoongi answers, resigned as he lugs the bags around. His legs look skinny. Dainty. Seokjin takes one of the bags like the good partner he is. “They just happened to conveniently find gay sheep for sacrifice.”
“The way you talk is unrealistically cynical,” Seokjin says, as they climb side by side. They walk ahead of the crew, keeping to themselves—and not bad for a nice, morning walk with his fake-real husband. Very domestic, indeed. “Speaking of—how do we play our roles here?”
Yoongi huffs, pink in his cheeks. “We’ll do our thing unless they make me the damsel in distress cooking while you show your big masculine muscles chopping wood.”
“Yoongi, what did I say about socio-political commentary?”
“That it gets in the way of our goals—and to keep it for night-time,” Yoongi says, holding back a smile. He should do that more often. It really adds flavour to his marshmallow personality. “According to the script, we’re supposed to have some sort of campfire game night.”
“Fun. Let’s nail this in all our couple glory.”
“I did not take you to be competitive.” More silence, and then Yoongi snorts. “Who am I kidding? All of this is because of your competitiveness.”
“Hey, no, I do care about gay rights—”
“I never said you didn’t, hyung—”
“Okay, team! We can stop here,” Taehyun announces, running up ahead and claiming a good enough space. “Yoongi-ssi, Seokjin-ssi—we’re establishing a start-to-finish sort of process. We can begin with setting up the tent.”
They scatter around, and Seokjin huffs, hands on his waist. The audacity, really. “Bold of them to assume we can—what are you doing?”
Yoongi has already taken the tent set out, untangling the various nuts and bolts to be used. “Building our tent?”
Our. Seokjin needs to chill, damn it. “You can do that?”
“Jin-hyung, I built your bed. From IKEA. This isn’t any different.”
It is, but only for Seokjin, who stands useless as Yoongi moves efficiently, humming to himself. The more Seokjin observes him, the more Taehyung’s words start knocking on his head. What’s next, falling in love with your husband? No, that can’t be. Seokjin isn’t like that…right? Forget that he’s always been the one to go with the flow regarding everything—including dates in college. Except for that one time when he got sixteen roses from a couple of boys at school, but that’s a given! He definitely has that rose-deserving aura, doesn’t he?
He swallows it all down, helping Yoongi where he can. Get yourself a man who can hammer things right.
(Good god, can he stop making gay jokes in his head????)
Yoongi gets it done in half the time, proclaiming experience. The crew sets the cameras, and it’s strange in the middle of a national park—but oh well.
They begin shooting, going by the script. They have to pretend to be campers settling for the night, but they don’t want to have snacks. They need to revive their energy—and what better than the Galant Campfire Cuisine Range?
“Ah, this reminds me of home,” Seokjin says dreamily, slurping in the noodles (which the Americans wrinkled their noses at until Taehyun explained it as a cultural thing). “Yoongi-chi—you make soup so well.”
Damn it. Yoongi-chi on camera? What is wrong with him?
Yoongi, however, smiles, mixing his own thermos. “Don’t I? My mother made it this way.”
“What! You’re telling me I can taste home in a packet?”
“Yes, wherever you are!” Yoongi exclaims with his entire chest. If it wasn’t for the cameras rolling, Seokjin would have laughed right there and then. He can see how much Yoongi’s dying to. “All you need is some hot water and a thermos—and voila!”
“And if there isn’t anything hot?”
“I’m sure your presence will take care of that,” Yoongi says dryly, and Seokjin chokes on his soup. “No worries—the Campfire Set comes with a free lighter for an authentic Campfire experience!”
“And CUT!”
Seokjin is still coughing from that impromptu line, while Yoongi falls into a calm expression. He thumps his chest, hoping he can will his heart to calm down. “What was that?”
Yoongi turns. “What was what?”
“That! The—the—flirting,” Seokjin sputters, tears blurring his vision. His ears feel hot. “Right?”
“Queer Twitter will hang on to that until their nails fall off,” Yoongi says happily, munching on a seaweed chip. Maria waves at them to come over, and Yoongi rises up, dusting off his pants. “We should go.”
“Right.”
“And don’t look so flustered, we’re married, hyung.”
Seokjin is so aware of this fact. “Nonsense. In fact, in marriage is where the love truly blooms,” he says haughtily, though it feels a lot like scrambling for some winning points. But winning against who? And for what? Yoongi’s smiling, and Seokjin turns away. “Don’t laugh at me.”
“I’m not.”
“In marriage, we absolutely must laugh with each other.”
“My husband’s wish is my command,” Yoongi bows slightly, and Seokjin wants to scream. He doesn’t get flustered! He flusters other people. This is the Law of the Universe. “Do they think we’re not noticing the secret cameras they’ve put around to record this footage?”
It is then that Seokjin notes the cameras—the tiny, heinous red dots blinking owlishly at them. Oh. So Yoongi was putting on an act. That’s…responsible of him. What about you? Were you not acting? Of course, he was! He’s only engaging in banter with Min Yoongi to remain in Galant’s good books, and not because Yoongi’s a generally funny guy who humours Seokjin’s ridiculousness and plays along and tolerates his puns—
Ah, god damn it. Seokjin’s screwed.
“Come on over, guys, gather around,” Maria says when they get closer, where several members of the crew are sitting around a small campfire. “We’re just taking a breather before turning in for the night. Gets real cold up here.”
This means sticking to Yoongi’s side—and once again, Seokjin is highly aware of how tiny and…snuggly Yoongi is. Bony too, but it’s not the worst. He ruminates in the heat of the fire, sipping his drink. The chatter soon turns into a conversation, when Taehyun asks them excitedly about their marriage.
It should be a piece of cake, rehearsed to death and everything in between—but somehow, Seokjin feels shy. Yoongi picks up, narrating the beginning though he’s not as animated as Seokjin is—and in his voice, the story seems real. As if it had happened, and here Seokjin is two years later, married to the man of his dreams.
What do you look for in an ideal partner, hyung?
I just want someone who gets me, you know?
Seokjin gulps down the drink before a Thought can form. He proceeds to cover it up with pizazz, making up stories that get more and more ridiculous but ones that Yoongi joins in without a hitch. He doesn’t fumble or confirm.
He’d look at me, and he’d understand.
Jeez, it’s getting too real. Maybe Seokjin should stop listening to his brain and focus on the scene ahead. They’re on a mission. To prove the legitimacy of their romance to others. That’s it.
“It was actually through a game of pocky,” Yoongi says, and Seokjin zooms in back into the present. He’s holding a packet of matcha-flavoured pocky sticks, and Yoongi deftly picks one out. “Seokjin wasn’t used to it. Made it all the more fun.”
Yoongi places the stick between his lips—thin, pink lips— and turns towards Seokjin. His eyes are steady, and clear, even as his hands slip into Seokjin’s, and he comes close, the other end of the stick touching Seokjin’s lips. What.
“Uh, what are we doing?” Seokjin whispers, cursing his minor disassociation episode as the crew giggles.
“Just play along. I’ll explain later,” Yoongi says, and then he bites his end of the stick—before pulling more of it close.
And pulling Seokjin close with it.
Ohhhh holy shit, they’re doing this. They’re doing the whole gay-love-pandering thing Namjoon’s always on about. Seokjin’s heart is in his throat, and his mouth is full of matcha but Yoongi’s mouth is right there. Wow, they’re really pink. And kind of bitten, he should definitely suggest a lip care routine once they’re home.
His lips! Focus on that!
No! Anything but that, what is wrong with you? You don’t think about men’s lips.
Okay, but are they like Min Yoongi’s? Be for real.
The pocky stick is anxiously getting shorter and then, as the moment of truth arrives, Yoongi makes eye contact for once. And nods.
Seokjin lets go, trusting this tiny cat man with fox eyes to make sense of everything.
The last of the stick gets over—and Seokjin leans in for a kiss.
Okay, that’s a tad too dramatic. It’s merely a peck, and it’s over in a second, Seokjin leaning back and looking down, his ears fire hot. Yoongi is blushing in the firelight, but he seems smug too, smiling to himself even as the crew cheers. Why are they cheering? Have they never seen two people kiss people?
Well, it’s two men. So. Ah, yes. The part Seokjin is conveniently glossing over to protect his fragile heart.
He kissed a man. Nothing happened, really. Fireworks didn’t blow, his body didn’t cleave apart in two and he’s fine. He’s standing on his two feet, still Kim Seokjin, still beautiful and a ten on ten—maybe a little confused on the straight radar, but hey, one step at a time.
“I think I’ll retire for the night, everyone,” Seokjin says, raising his cup—and drains it in one go. He’d been expecting a lot more crisis than usual, so it’s strange when he walks back, and Yoongi walks next to him, hands in his pockets.
Isn’t this the part where the love interests show awkwardness and avoid each other until they can’t anymore? Why does it feel so natural for Yoongi to be there despite what just happened?
They unpack their mattresses and blankets, settling in as they do at home. Yoongi’s place, Seokjin corrects, but the words don’t sit right. It is home.
“So…” Seokjin starts, staring up at the tent ceiling. He probably shouldn’t make it awkward. Right? But something has shifted, and it would be wrong not to talk about it. “That was…”
“A peck,” Yoongi murmurs, curling into a foetal position with his eyes closed. “It was for a story. Don’t worry about it.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You weren’t? Hmm. Then it’s all good.”
Yeah. It was just a peck, Seokjin didn’t even comprehend it. He doesn’t remember it at all! It is all good.
“I can hear your mind spinning, hyung,” Yoongi says then, and Seokjin hides his head under his blanket, mortified. “You’re still straight. Okay?”
“O—okay.”
“Good night, hyung.”
“Good night, Yoongi-chi.”
It’s sweet of Yoongi to clarify.
Except Seokjin’s not sure if that puts him at ease or not.
♡💍♡
The morning shoot goes well—if Seokjin doesn’t think too hard, which isn’t a huge ask— he can almost convince himself that the Pocky Incident didn’t happen.
He still decides to go back to his place instead of Yoongi’s, as he had been for the past couple of weeks—and Yoongi lets him, some sort of understanding in his eyes. Even though a cool, non-chill thing would be to carry on because it was just a peck, nothing more and nothing less.
He reaches home, and it is fine, designed as a bachelor pad with four recliners and a huge TV screen. It’s perfect for Seokjin’s single, going-with-the-flow ass—and he hates it the moment he steps inside.
It’s totally because of the outdated plumbing.
He almost makes it, going as far as to eating a sad salad with a can of beer. He even cleans it up, clearing away layers of dust from days of not using a place he pays good rent for. Such is the field of method acting, what can he do?
Right, haul his ass off the couch and get back to acting, of course.
He sleeps in his own bed, fresh and clean, just the way he likes it. Everything is great. Except it’s not, and Seokjin only lasts a day before he’s off driving, where a half hour later he’s knocking on Yoongi’s door. It already feels familiar, and when Yoongi opens the door—sleepy, bleary-eyed so they look even tinier— Seokjin nearly coos.
“I come with supplies!” Seokjin announces, holding a bag of groceries and a carton of beer cans. “Good morning, sunshine.”
“What the fuck are you so loud for at—are you awake at 7 a.m.?”
“Your observation skills are astute as ever,” Seokjin jokes, putting away the groceries and the cans without even thinking about it because guess what—he knows Yoongi’s kitchen like the back of his hand. “I was getting bored at home, so.”
When he turns, Yoongi’s leaning against the doorframe with his hands crossed, a knowing glance in his eyes. Seokjin smiles back, and he’s grateful when Yoongi nods without a question. “You know where the shower is. Have fun, hyung.”
Take your time. I understand.
And just like that—they fall into a routine again.
♡💍♡
Light at the End of the Prism
♡💍♡
Yoongi doesn’t want to hint at it. But Seokjin’s here, filling his apartment with colour and laughter, playing with Holly and cooking for two—and Yoongi’s heart is so full.
There isn’t any awkwardness despite what transpired. He can tell Seokjin’s pondering—as much as he can, allergic as he seems towards thinking— but it doesn’t impact their routine. One they don’t have to follow outside of work.
Although, it doesn’t have to be a big deal. Two men can live with each other without there being any complicated drama; platonic love is real! Never mind that Yoongi felt put on the spot and decided to go ahead with the pocky story, and his mind didn’t blank out in panic even once.
Kissing Seokjin. A self-attested straight man who he’d married for an office scheme. People were bound to ask eventually, and sure, Yoongi could have denied them—but the thought of it didn’t irk him as much.
It’s not the best idea. Actually, it’s not a good idea at all, being the experiment for a straight man yet again like Yoongi had sworn never to do. But Seokjin isn’t any straight man, is he? He’s not obnoxious or secretive or humiliated. He hasn’t asked Yoongi to meet in clandestine places where people couldn’t see him. He boasts about his beauty and struts like a peacock, is aware and respectful and—and fights for Yoongi’s right to be queer, in his own way. Sure, he’s taking advantage of a benefit meant for gays, which could be seen as problematic but then again…
Yeah. Yoongi doesn’t have any justification. He likes Seokjin anyway. His presence, and how it doesn’t feel like he has to try too hard when he’s around him.
So he allows Seokjin to come back, to slot himself back into their (unintentional but totally intentional) domestic life—watches the way he navigates Yoongi’s kitchen and prepares for work so Yoongi doesn’t have to rush. When he jokes at work and distracts people from questioning their marriage too much.
As much as Yoongi says it’s for Seokjin—mostly, it’s for him.
He knows Seokjin is aware too—but in his Seokjin way, walks with the program gracefully as ever. He’s read stories like this—where a fake relationship is riddled with accidents and tense silence, miscommunication and whatnot—but this version is so much better for his anxiety. He gets the added warmth in his belly without the nerve-wracking terror.
They still haven’t separated the beds.
The beds were joined once during a horror movie Seokjin had suggested, and Yoongi usually hated those but figured the presence of a person plus his reputation were good enough reasons to agree. As it was, Seokjin had a zero-tolerance policy for anything scary, ending up in a half-hazard shoving-the-beds-together for “moral support, Yoongi-chi, in sickness and health remember?” and then it stayed that way.
So there they are, getting into their joined beds without a word, Seokjin indulging in his skincare routine, Yoongi with a book—and when he asks Seokjin to shut the light, he does without a complaint. If Yoongi closes his eyes, he can almost pretend no one’s there.
That’s a lie. He can feel how large Seokjin’s presence is—not just in the room, but in his life. All because of a scheme.
“Hey, Yoongi?”
“Hmm?”
“I’ve been thinking.”
“You?” Yoongi turns to his side, only to find Seokjin already looking at him. His eyes are wide, hands under his face. They’re clear, and Yoongi knows. “Hyung.”
“Will you do it again?” Seokjin asks, his voice so small yet sure, Yoongi feels a strange tightness in his chest. It’s not painful, though. “I’m trying to test something. But it’s cool if not. I remember when you said you don’t experi—”
Yoongi leans in and kisses him squarely on the lips. Pulls back to check, and sees Seokjin’s eyes blown wide and mouth open in surprise. Yoongi smiles. And leans in again.
This time, Seokjin kisses back—tentative, nervous—but active.
It’s not awkward. It’s not automatically natural either, the weight of the change and difference hanging in between—but not enough to deter them. Yoongi pulls back, laying back again and smacking his lips.
“You’re right. I don’t,” he says. His heart is in his throat. It’s all very confusing—he never expected this going in. Yet, he wants to kiss Seokjin again. A person he didn’t have any active thoughts about, let alone feelings. “Hyung. I don’t do this.”
“What?”
“Helping straight people figure out their sexuality,” Yoongi puts bluntly, still looking all over Seokjin’s face. It’s such a nice face—symmetrical, perfect for the Sales team—but so much more than that. A face hiding a hysterical laugh, a childlike joy and an incredible sense of humour. “Just so you know.”
“Oh, I’m aware,” Seokjin snorts. Then he gets serious again. “I don’t see this as an experiment.”
“What are you testing, then?”
“What it would be like to actually kiss you.”
Yoongi laughs. “Hyung, c’mon.”
“What? Last time I could only taste the matcha—”
“Quit joking, lord,” Yoongi says, lightly tapping Seokjin’s shaking shoulders. “Seriously. Tell me what you’re thinking, hyung.”
“I don’t think. What a blasphemous statement to say—”
“Hyung.”
“Okay, okay. Fine. If you insist,” Seokjin grumbles. His shoulders curl in, and even then they block the moonlight. “I’ve never thought about it.”
“Your sexuality?”
“Mm. In-depth, I mean. I’ve seen Taehyung and Namjoon do the work, and since I didn’t feel that confusion I just assumed I was…straight.”
“I see.” Yoongi bites his lip. His own journey had been full of struggle even if he’d always had an idea. “What then?”
“I’ve dated girls. Women. A couple of guys have asked me out too, but how can they not with a face like mine?”
“Not helping your case here, hyung.”
“Right. I’m not sure what to feel. Like I think I should panic or feel confused but I…don’t. It’s you.”
Yoongi feels his cheeks heat up. “Ah, hyung. Don’t be cheesy.”
“I’m not!” Seokjin exclaims. They’re sleeping side to side, having what’s supposed to be a groundbreaking conversation so casually. Because things aren’t difficult with Seokjin. Because we have an understanding. “I’m stating facts.”
“Sure.”
“You’re very nice to kiss, by the way.”
“Aish, hyung!” Yoongi snaps, turtling into his t-shirt. “This is the strangest conversation I’ve ever had.”
“Agreed. Let’s sleep on it and pretend it never happened?”
“No. We should kiss some more just to be sure.”
Seokjin is smiling when their lips meet.
♡💍♡
When Taehyung had first come out to him at a mere thirteen years old, Seokjin had taken on the information like a champ. He’d felt the weight of being the hyung at sixteen, someone Taehyung could trust with a secret that felt so large. And, despite providing a safe space as much as he could—he saw the way Taehyung had to stumble anyway.
Later, during Namjoon’s freshmen year in college, he was once again put in a confidante position as Namjoon confessed about potentially being bisexual, and feeling scared. He didn’t know who else to tell, but Seokjin had assured him he’d be safe. With Namjoon, he didn’t have to worry as much—his thick-headed, intellectual ass researched everything like his life depended on it. Still, he promised himself he’d be there while his siblings figured it out.
Watching them discover their sexuality had convinced Seokjin that he didn’t have the same trouble, and though he had never been a serial dater—he assumed the default. As does most of the world.
It’s a bit of a shock, considering all the present events. Even then, his world doesn’t come to halt with the weight of the potential new development in his romantic life.
Yoongi gives him space—enough that Seokjin can continue being himself, but not so much that it’s distant. He doesn’t allow Seokjin to be flippant with it—it’s clear in his actions that while they’re okay, he’s not going to be Seokjin’s go-to queer boy for experimenting. Seokjin respects that; it’s not every day one wakes up with earth-shattering information (which Taehyung had predicted, this is so embarrassing for Seokjin.)
What ultimately confuses him more than this curveball so late in life is how not confused he is about Yoongi. It makes sense, in the grand scheme of things. Yoongi’s just—great. He’s an amazing roommate, cleans up after himself, and cooks all the Korean dishes and the American ones. He knows his alcohol too and sometimes joins Seokjin in drinking tequila at 4 a.m. At work, he plays along with all of Seokjin’s ridiculous stories and shenanigans without chastising him for it.
The commercials continue, on and off, and Seokjin manages to negotiate a promotion for Yoongi as a part of their agreement with Maria. It’s all working out well, maybe too well—and that’s why Seokjin is confused and suspicious.
Absolutely not because he’s thirty and just maybe realising he’s part of the rainbow spectrum.
“Hyung, I hate to be the one telling you this,” Taehyung says during their weekly lunch. Seokjin hangs on to his every word. “But, uh. Remember when I asked you about your ideal type?”
“Yeah, go on.”
“Well…doesn’t Yoongi hyung meet all of them?”
Seokjin frowns. He barely remembers what he said. “Run them through me again?”
“Someone who gets you. Understands you?” Taehyung prompts, but Seokjin frowns some more. Had he really said all of this? Taehyung sighs. “Someone who laughs with you. He knows when to relax and when to be serious, and gives you space.” The words start coming back to him, and Seokjin gasps. “He puts up with you even when you’re annoying, which I’m sure is 90 percent of the time.”
“But only because I’d do that for him a hundred times over,” Seokjin whispers, as everything that’s happened so far hits him like a bullet train. “And he supports me. Oh no, Taehyung.”
“Yes, hyung. You’re having feelings.”
“Shut up, not that,” Seokjin snaps, keeping his chopsticks aside as he holds his head in his hands. Goodness, Yoongi really is his type. He’d been living it and he didn’t even know. “And I thought it was because he used a Samsung phone.”
Taehyung wrinkles his nose. “God, hyung. You sound ancient.”
“Hey. Galaxy phones are infinitely better than—”
“You’re avoiding again. You and Yoongi-hyung, c’mon,” Taehyung says, snapping his fingers. “What’s the hang-up?”
“I mean. I didn’t know I could even like men until two months ago.”
“So? Wake-up calls can happen any time,” Taehyung shrugs—before his mouth drops into an O. “Oh. Is that what’s bothering you, hyung?”
“Hmm?”
“That you’re not as confused as you’d thought you’d be?” When Seokjin keeps mum, Taehyung laughs. “Aw, hyung! That’s cute, but not all of us need to have some deep sexuality crisis in order for changes to be normal.”
“But you…and Namjoon…”
“We were in our teens. That phase screws with you anyway. We were angsty and emo as hell, not to mention, horny as fuck—”
“Please don’t.”
“But it’s absolutely fine if you’re understanding something about yourself now! It’s never too late or too early. Whatever the age—your feelings are always valid. Even if they’re not confusing.”
Such wisdom from his baby brother… “That’s…really profound.”
“I know, right? I think I’ve become so much smarter with Jimin around,” Taehyung says, munching happily. “Seriously, hyung. It’s fine. No one’s judging you. You shouldn’t either.”
“I hear what you’re saying…I don’t know. I am confused…but not about Yoongi? If that makes sense?”
“It does. And hey, who said you have to be 100 percent sure before accepting things, anyway? So go ahead, hyung. Be your loud, thoughtless, impulsive self.”
Easy for him to say, but as Seokjin faces Taehyung’s eyes and finds the warmth locked in them—he feels grateful.
He may be coming onto something later than he’d expected—but one thing’s for sure—he’s not confused about Yoongi.
♡💍♡
The big day arrives at last.
By that, Seokjin is referring to the July wedding of Min Geumjae and his fiancé, the event that requires him to be a fake boyfriend for Yoongi.
Whether or not it’ll be fake any longer is up to the fates, by which he means his own ass actively participating in his life.
It’s a small wedding held at the local church the Mins are a part of, and every bit of it speaks of community and familial love. For the last couple of days, Yoongi has been participating himself, overlooking the catering with Seokjin’s help and making sure the schedules are running smoothly. Seokjin had come along for moral support—and play the loving, caring boyfriend that would keep Yoongi happy, and by association, his family—who should be convinced by now that gay people can lead fulfilled lives.
Seokjin is certainly inclined to believe so.
“Ah, Eommonim, let me help you with that,” Seokjin says, rushing in to take the various last-minute decorations to be kept near the church entrance. “You’ve been running so much. Please, take a seat. I’ll get someone else to do this.”
“Ah, Seokjin-ah, you’ve been a blessing these past few days,” she exclaims, sitting down with a huff. Seokjin genuinely likes her—he can see where Yoongi got his wit and ire from. She’s an even tinier female version of him. “Yoongi chose well.”
Seokjin blushes, arranging the few flowers and occupying his hands. “It was a chance encounter. You know how it is with apps.”
“Yes, yes. Something about algorithms, I read on the news,” she huffs, straightening her coat jacket. The theme colours are baby pink and mauve. Seokjin’s glad he gets to finally wear his pink suit. “I’m glad the algorithm worked out this way, then. You make Yoongi so happy.”
“I—what?”
“You can’t tell?” She asks, eyes wide. Then she breaks out into a smile. “Ah, I forget. It’s only been a short while. He never shows it, but I’m his mother so I know. He’s happier these days. His cheeks are fuller.”
That’s her criteria? Seokjin can’t contradict her, though. “Right.”
“I worried a lot. I still feel sorry that I didn’t receive his—queerness, is it? — well. To be honest, it’s still taking me some time…but if he’s met wonderful people like you, then I don’t think I have to worry anymore, hmm?” She says, patting Seokjin's cheeks. Maybe she’s too anxious to feel the heat trapped in them. “Aigoo, look at the time—there is so much that needs to be done. Make sure the bouquets are in place, Seokjin-ah!”
Seokjin assures her, watching her brisk walk, snapping at some of the younger Min cousins—and ponders over what she said. He turns towards when Yoongi is directing the caterers, small yet formidable—and then he decides not to ponder anymore.
The wedding begins smoothly—and Seokjin waits through it all. Watches Yoongi be the best man, hold Geumjae when he tears up as Sohyeon walks, and enjoys the experience for what it is. Listens to the vows, and recalls his own rushed wedding at the court. It was none of this grand spectacle—but Seokjin believes in those vows anyway. And looks forward to them, even if it’s a bit out of the linear plot.
Later, after the toasts are done and the guests indulge themselves on the food—courtesy of Yoongi and Seokjin’s late-night efforts to bring a little bit of home to San Francisco— Seokjin sidles up to Yoongi with his own plate.
“These are good,” he says through a mouth full of food, stuffing himself way more than necessary—Yoongi absent-mindedly wipes his lips clean. Seokjin is struck by the comfort once again. “I wonder who made these.”
“Last I heard, it was a genius food researcher from Galant Foods. Along with an annoying Sales assistant.”
“Careful, you’re getting all naughty at a holy place, darling.”
“If it gets the assistant to behave,” Yoongi shrugs, but he’s holding back a smile. “Thank you. For all the help today.”
“Of course.”
“And being my plus one. My family loves you, by the way.”
“As was decreed by the Universe.” Seokjin swallows down the last of it. Shuffles his feet, as they gaze at the married couple having their first dance. “Hey, Yoongi-chi?”
“Yeah, hyung?”
“I think we should get married.”
“Ah, hyung, we’re already married—” Yoongi pauses. Turns to meet Seokjin’s eyes, head tilting to the side. His fox eyes pierce into his soul. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” Seokjin breathes, suddenly nervous. That’s an un-Seokjin-like feeling. Butterflies are conspiring in his belly anyway. “Is that a weird way of asking you to be my real partner?”
“Is anything ever weird when it comes to you?” Yoongi questions back, then chuckles, hiding his face. “Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know what you’ve been up to in the past.”
“But Yoongi!”
“Nope. Not now,” Yoongi says, dropping his hand and holding Seokjin’s instead—and wow. It’s a long hand. Quite pale, too. Fits well with Seokjin’s crooked fingers. “Are you serious, hyung?”
“Yes. I’m confused and I don’t know how my life went off-track like this but—I’m all in. Sickness and health.”
“Now’s not the time for marriage vows, you doofus,” Yoongi grumbles, but he’s biting his lips hard. “It’s confusing for me too. Even though I am gay.”
“Huh. I suppose to be confused is part of human nature,” Seokjin comments, channelling his inner Namjoon. “Maybe we’re beyond labels, then.”
“Yeah. We are.”
“Like, labels don’t make sense for us—wait, what?” Seokjin asks, turning towards him again. “You agree?”
Yoongi shrugs. “Like I said. Confused. Nothing about this makes sense—except you do. Can’t pin what.”
“That’s—Yoongi—”
“I look forward to you coming home with me. I like when you play your trot songs playlist and sing badly to them, but play ballads in the shower. I like it when you cook with me in the kitchen and make terrible food puns in a bid to sell them.” Yoongi looks straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact. His hand is still in Seokjin’s. “You took advantage of this dumb benefit and then fought for me every step of the way. You negotiated for my promotion. You got them out of my house. Do you understand, hyung?”
“Yoongi…”
“I feel safe with you, and it’s been a long time since I’ve felt that way. So whatever our label is—I’m glad I have this for now.”
“Okay, I’m definitely going to cry now,” Seokjin says, wiping under his eyes. “What the hell, Min Yoongi? When did you become a master with words?”
“Always have been, hyung. You’re just understanding my language now,” Yoongi says, smiling through his teeth. “Anyway. Yes. I’ll be your real partner.”
“Aha! The great Kim Seokjin can never be rejected—”
“If you keep up with that shit I will divorce you, hyung.”
“Wait, so the marriage still holds?”
“Ah, hyung, you’re such an idiot—we still need the salary raise, ah, seriously—”
“Okay, okay. I’ll keep quiet now.” Seokjin is certain he’s cheesing way too hard. But this feels good. “Hey, Min Yoongi?”
Yoongi sighs. “Yes, hyung?”
“I really like you.”
In hindsight, Yoongi’s answering smile feels much better.
♡💍♡
The End
♡💍♡