Work Text:
Jungkook is elbows deep in maraschino cherries and a shattered bottle of grenadine the first time he lays eyes on Jung Hoseok.
He walks into the bar to the tune of a Marvin Gaye classic, courtesy of Jungkook’s strict upbringing and a Bridget Jones soundtrack Tae got stuck in the stereo when they first got hired. His dark hair looks like someone has spent an eternity running their fingers through it with his fringe whisked sinfully off his forehead towards the heavens, bringing him closer to his God-like brethren. His suit is black (Navy? In the way?) and tailored like a dream, from his broad shoulders to his trim waist and Jungkook narrowly avoids getting caught gawking at his thighs when he starts for the bar.
Working at a bar, Jungkook is used to dealing with hot people—hell, Jungkook is a hot people, but he’s never wanted to lay on the bar in nothing but a bed sheet more in all his twenty-three years of existence. In that particular daydream, someone would definitely be feeding him the forgotten maraschino cherries. They’d probably be dipped in chocolate. And chilled.
Belatedly, Jungkook realizes his work station still looks like the set of a low budget Tarantino remake. He makes quick work of the issue by throwing his shoulder towel over the mess and sliding over to Tae’s side of the sink just as the man reaches the bar. He’s not wearing a ring on his left hand (or his right, for that matter) and Jungkook figures a little flirting will go a long way if the watch on his wrist is anything to go by.
“Pop my cherry?” No hello, no service smile, not even a what can I get you? His tone is even, eyes wide and growing wider, and he is about two seconds from swallowing his whole entire body head first. He should have stayed in bed this morning.
His patron, for the most part, looks almost unsurprised by the outburst. He’s got one perfectly plucked and filled eyebrow quirked at such an angle that Jungkook can see the beginnings of a forehead wrinkle (and maybe the rest of his life). His smile is slow, hesitant and vaguely afraid, and his right foot has taken new direction from it’s would be resting place on the leg of a barstool and is poised for the door.
“Pardon…me?” His voice is velvet, his teeth are perfect and Jungkook wants to die. But it’s only nine o’clock on a Friday night, their busiest night, and he really doesn’t want to lose his job so instead he clears his throat too powerfully (sadly, he does not choke) and holds up a bottle of mara-fucking-schino cherries.
“Frisky Friday, you’d be lucky customer number one.” It’s almost a shame that no one is present to witness the smoothest save in history, but he is able to ignore the color on his own cheeks while admiring the blush now climbing its way up the beautiful man’s neck while he chuckles.
“Just water for me, I’m driving tonight. But I’ll take a round of beers and some complimentary peanuts to that table in the corner, please.” He’s wearing a curious little smile, probably amused by the fact that Jungkook has yet to make eye contact and is instead staring at his lips.
“Coming right up!” He’s still staring while the man walks away to his table to join his entourage, a group of loud and stuffy looking men of all ages. The god among men Jungkook is still staring at looks to be the youngest, or at least the most well maintained, and it’s impressive to see the way the older men orbit respectfully about him. He clearly has some seniority in the group. Or maybe the highest credit limit on his company card.
Almost three hours later, Jungkook wishes time would stop or maybe just isolate this one bar so they could continue with the continuous exchange of curious glances back and forth. By the third time Jungkook brings their drinks to the table the man is thanking him by name. He spills a little beer on the tray when he hears this, and bows his head before retreating to the safety of his perch behind the bar.
The men in the group are feeling good and have grown more loose and loud by the time they’re calling for their bill. When Jungkook makes to hand it to the smiling and pleasantly buzzed little man nearest to him, his breath only stutters a little when the man he’s been all but drooling over all night reaches for it instead, their fingers brushing very briefly. This is met with a chorus of cheers as he pulls out and slips his credit card into the bill book for Jungkook to charge.
He waits until he’s hidden well enough by the cash register to peek and get the man’s name. Jung Hoseok is printed clearly in gold and shining up at him from the black card and Jungkook makes sure to commit the name to memory.
He heads back over to the now standing and ready to go group to return the card, smiling and wishing them all fun on their next round as Hoseok slips his card back into his wallet.
“Be more careful with your cherries, Jungkook-ssi.” He says quietly, his tone full of laughter, just for Jungkook to hear. He blinks once, twice, and a third time before a small, embarrassed chuckle slips out and he’s smiling as he nods and bows to Hoseok. It isn’t until Jungkook’s back at the bar, putting the bill into the drawer, that he realizes Jung Hoseok had slipped a fifty-dollar tip into his bill book.
Jungkook has an extra skip in his step for the rest of the night and wonders if he’ll ever see Hoseok again.
The very next week, a familiar group of already feeling good business men stumble their way to the very same table. He knows Taehyung is shooting him a look as he tries to inconspicuously spot the same chiseled face that’s been in his dreams since their first night. At the same time he realizes he’s being ridiculous and way too obvious, they make eye contact from across the room and Hoseok makes a beeline for the bar, all slow smiles and the top buttons of his dress shirt undone. Jungkook takes in too much air as his hands flutter uselessly around his station, disarmed and flustered, and he knocks over the cocktail straws in the process of trying to look busy.
“I’m not driving tonight, so hit me with your best shot!” He is speaking a little more loudly than strictly necessary but otherwise sober and Jungkook is all at once thankful and cursing that stupid article Taehyung had sent him about questionably named drinks. They had been experimenting with some new liquors and had most of them down, but Jungkook does not possess nor claim the same level of verbal smoothness Taehyung uses to ease the offer into appropriate service small-talk.
“Sex, on my face.” Is what his mind so skillfully supplies him with, and he said it weird and it sounded like an invitation and Taehyung is watching with obvious interest as he approaches them and Jungkook is all too aware that this could all go very awkward, very fast. “A m-mixture of fruit liquors and juices, it’s selling like crazy.” Frisky Friday is a hoax and no sex on anyone’s face exists on their drink menu. Hoseok doesn’t need to know this; Taehyung needs to never know this ever.
“Sounds like fun, I’ll take some for the whole table! And more nuts. We like nuts.” So Hoseok is just a bit tipsy and the way he giggles into his palm is kind of cute but Jungkook’s ears are on fire and Tae is smiling with his entire face. He throws his hand up quickly, his fingers signaling an OK in Hoseok’s direction and makes it look like he’s gathering ingredients.
“You need some help? That sounds like an awfully tall order to fill.” There is barely concealed laughter in Taehyung’s tone as he pulls down some glasses from a shelf, all the while smiling deceivingly innocent in Jungkook’s face.
“I’m good. They’re my regulars, we’re building what Jiminie likes to call a customer service bond.” Jungkook’s tone waivers and Taehyung isn’t going to drop this that easily. He lives for this kind of thing, can smell it in the air – he reminds Jungkook of his great-great-grandmother.
“He’s easy on the eyes for a boring suit man, don’t you think?” Tae asks, still innocent if you don’t really know him, and Jungkook stones his expression and does his best rock impression as he does a head count for the table.
“Better than our usual customers, I guess.” He keeps a monotone, shrugging, setting out a few more glasses and putting some ice in each of them. Taehyung hums noncommittally and watches him for a few more minutes before frolicking his way back down to his station and customers. He’s far from finished with his digging, and Jungkook is dreading clean up even more than usual.
He waits until he sees Tae pouring some drinks to nonchalantly google what exactly goes into a Sex On My Face.
The night progresses much like last week, only this time Jungkook is busy fielding Taehyung’s nosy ass and avoiding eye contact, while also learning that a drinking Hoseok is a chatty Hoseok.
“Namjoon and I go way back! I’ve been meaning to try out the bar for months now, but could never convince these guys to actually try something new.” He pokes his thumb at his posse of men in black and they all laugh accordingly. Jungkook thinks it’s kind of endearing, and Hoseok keeps on talking. He supplies Jungkook with stories from high school and university age Namjoon and between walking up to order more rounds, and Jungkook delivering them, Hoseok has given him enough dirt to successfully negotiate shifts and a paid vacation by the time the group is ready for their bill.
Hoseok pulls out his card again, swatting away a few offered hands, and places it directly in Jungkook’s palm while he sways just a bit. He opens his bill book to place the card inside when he feels Hoseok come more into his space and stage whisper:
“I think they enjoyed your Sex On My Face just as much as I did!”
He drops the card, his bill book and the F-bomb while he laughs too loudly, too forced, in hopes of Taehyung not hearing that as he walked by to clear the table. Hoseok seems proud of the reaction he’s caused and he gives Jungkook a dopey smile, and he just wants to squeeze his cheeks and kiss his face so he ducks quickly to pick up the card and bill book and stares determinedly at the floor as he makes his way to the bar to ring up the order.
Taehyung is leaning against the wall opposite him, arms crossed and smirking as he watches Jungkook swipe the card and carefully put it back into the book. His silence speaks volumes and Jungkook finds himself wondering how fruitful a search it would be if he went apartment hunting right now to avoid the taunting he’s never going to hear the end of.
This time Hoseok slips him a one-hundred-dollar bill and a wink that’s more of a hard blink than anything else, waving and yelling goodbye across the whole bar and very much so resembling a puppy. Jungkook is rolling his eyes and shaking his head, but that doesn’t stop him from waving back with a grin.
Taehyung swoops up behind him a few hours later when he’s turning their neon signs off and Jungkook knows the night is far from over.
The third time he sees Hoseok, another Friday but this time alone, he’s a little damp from the rain as he takes off his coat and scans the bar carefully before his stare falls on Jungkook. He looks relieved to see a familiar face and Jungkook chalks up the ringing in his ears to the way Taehyung and Jimin are leering at him conspiratorially from the doorway to the backroom and definitely not the way Hoseok’s smile morphs his lips into a heart shape that takes over most of his face.
Jungkook is ready this week, has a cocktail picked and even mastered how to make it with his own twist (chocolate dipped strawberry on the straw, that’s the twist). He is all handsome, aloof smile and bedroom eyes, a professional bartender look he practices in the mirror on his breaks from time to time. Namjoon caught him once, his eye twitching slightly, but he just clapped Jungkook on the back and told him to “Keep up the great work, buddy” and went about his business. They don’t bring it up, not even at dinners or holiday parties, and for that Jungkook is eternally grateful.
“Can I interest you in a Strawberry Stripper to start?” He’s a professional and flirting is basically in his job description, so he ignores the way his ears seem to burn when he can hear muffled laughter coming from the backroom. If Hoseok can hear it as well, he does a very good job of hiding it, smiling openly and nodding at Jungkook’s offer.
He’s tapping his finger against his chin as he sizes up the vast and vintage champagne collection behind the counter that Namjoon is so proud of, lounging quite comfortably in the barstool he’s chosen at the very end of the bar. Jungkook entertains the thought that he picked it on purpose, this being Jungkook’s section, but shakes the thought away as he shakes he bangs from his eyes, watching Hoseok through the reflective glass of the beer coolers.
“So do you get to pick out the drinks every Frisky Friday, or does everyone take turns?” Hoseok asks when he hands him his drink, taking the first sip and quirking his lips to one side when he goes in for more. Distracted, Jungkook is too delayed in his response to naturally play it off, so he fiddles with the ties of his apron to buy himself more time to remember the question when Hoseok looks up at him. He’s smiling still, his expression patient and a little something else but Jungkook can’t meet his eyes long enough to figure it out without turning into a strawberry himself.
“We all kind of, uhm, come to an agreement on them?” He’s lying through his teeth and despite the fact that he’s practiced this exact conversation over and over in his head so it wouldn’t be obvious, here they are. “If the names are funny and, ah, we have the supplies, it all just kind of works out. Just us bartenders trying to have a little fun, really. Namjoon-hyung is always busy so he usually agrees to things without much thought.” A Lie. Namjoon counts the straws before he allows anyone else to touch the box; he puts too much thought into all things.
Right now he is overcompensating, which he remembers studying vaguely in intro psych, and he knows from experience that info dump is suspicious even in it’s simplest forms after living with one Kim Taehyung after so many years. He must divert the conversation to a more stable ground before he breaks and confesses to lying about Frisky Friday and thus destroying this customer service bond he has forged from what will forever be the best save in history.
Hoseok is… smirking at him from behind his glass, his eyes attentive and filled with amusement and Jungkook can feel the back of his neck tingling like he’s been caught but he makes a show of artfully spearing a chocolate covered strawberry with a straw and clears his throat “So, no entourage tonight? Or are they meeting you here?”
“We’re meeting at a karaoke bar in…” He trails off, looking at his watch with a squinty little smile and Jungkook leans over a little to get a look at the time as well, faltering and almost tripping when Hoseok tips his head up abruptly before Jungkook can back down from his space. His smile widens “about twenty minutes on the other side of town.” He finishes, taking the last mouthful of his drink and plucking the straw out of his glass. “There is this really nice bar that makes weirdly delicious cocktails just for me, so I wanted to stop by before I meet them.”
Jungkook frowns, just a little irked with this piece of information, and checks the wall clock to play off the look on his face as confusion. “Well if you don’t hurry now, you won’t make it there in time! Is that bar on the same bus rou—“ He stops short when he notices Hoseok’s cradling his chin on his palm, a very meaningful smirk lifted to one side where his fingers are cupping his cheek; Jungkook thinks his whole body flushes. “Uh” He twists a straw around his fingers and bites his lip to keep the smile from splitting his face. “Oh.”
Hoseok’s phone vibrates on the bar and the tension surrounding them pulses away to the same rhythm. He bites into his chocolate covered strawberry as he checks it, and Jungkook figures it must be his coworkers because he stands and starts digging in his pockets for his wallet. He pulls out a fifty-dollar bill just like he did the first night and places it on the bar. He doesn’t let up on his grip when Jungkook reaches for it.
“Same time next week?” He asks, and for how confident he looks his tone is a bit quieter than it has been all night, open and hopeful – like he’s not quite sure but would really like to be. Jungkook actively holds his gaze when he smiles and nods, pulling his hand back slightly and poking at his side of the bar.
“I’ll be here, Frisky Fridays are kind of my thing.” Hoseok definitely looks sure now, his smile almost shy when he slips the money further across the bar and grabs his coat from the back of his stool, slipping it on and heading back out into the rain.
The smile doesn’t melt from Jungkook’s face for even a second for the next week.
“So you have a thing—“
“—it’s not a thing!”
It’s a thing.
“With one of your regular customers that involves flirting through drink names and a make-believe cocktail hour which you called Frisky Friday despite a severe lack of frisking.” Taehyung blinks, a bright smile fighting to be seen on his dumb face. “When’s the wedding?” Jungkook wants to kick him.
“We’re bartenders, Tae. We’re professional flirts. They tip well and keep coming back, so of course I’m going to give them special treatment. When was the last time you paid your half of the rent with the tips from one table alone?” He huffed back, wiping his station down to prepare for the crowds.
“Three nights ago, actually.” He answers with a smirk, dodging the dirty cloth Jungkook aims at his face just in time. “Just admit you’re in love with the guy and ask him the fuck out, because all you talk about when you get drunk is how pretty his smile is and frankly it’s disgusting.” This time he throws ice cubes and they hit him square in the face. Jungkook smirks triumphantly.
Taehyung pulls a paper out of his pocket, unfolding it with a mischievous look in his eyes. “Look, I even picked out the perfect drink for you to make him! I’m on your side!” He turns the paper over and hands it to Jungkook like he’s presenting a sacred artifact. He used a different color pen for every word he hand wrote of the recipe.
Scrawled at the top with unnecessary doodles is Suck, Bang & Blow. “Namjoon-hyung bought the good tequila and Jiminie peeled the limes so they’d look like spira—“
Jungkook kicks him.
The sound of someone clearing their throat has Jungkook looking up and breaking his concentration on zoning out, but he smiles brightly when he sees that it's Hoseok.
“Mountain dew me?” He asks, taking a quick sip from his own glass (the mocktail version, of course) and reaching for the bottle. Jungkook doesn’t even look up because he knows Hoseok is going to take up residence on the barstool directly in front of him. Knows he's is probably already smiling with a bit of pink highlighting his cheekbones and most likely on round three considering how late it is. But he remains standing.
“No thanks, I haven’t mounted anything since I quit the equestrian club my senior year.” Taehyung starts violently choking on a cherry stem at his station a few feet away, and Jungkook squeezes more than half of the two-litre bottle of mountain dew all over his apron and work pants (symbolism, Namjoon would say) in the process of trying not to whimper.
“Oh! Well, that’s uhm…neat. Horses are cool. I bet you can ride really… quickly.” Hoseok is laughing so hard his eyes have turned into little crescent moons Jungkook would definitely howl at if he wasn’t at work. And if he was a werewolf. “But I was actually talking about the name of tonight’s cocktail, made with mountain dew... the pop?” He’s red in the face and more than a little southernly intrigued at this new piece of the puzzle that keeps on giving as he enunciates his words very carefully.
Over at his station, Taehyung seems to have survived imminent danger thanks to Jimin and a glass of water and the pair are now far too obviously eavesdropping on the trainwreck of a conversation Jungkook isn’t quite sure he’s having. At least not outside of the astral plane in which Hoseok actually alluded to sex and horses in the same sentence completely sober and of his own free will.
For the first time since they met four and a half Friday’s ago, Hoseok isn’t wearing a suit. In fact, he’s completely traded in any semblance of his professional look and is instead rocking a snapback. His face is bare and on full display and Jungkook is falling more and more down the rabbit hole by the second. The red t-shirt he’s got on clings so perfectly to his upper arms Jungkook can follow the vein in his arms beyond the realms of the sleeves and back again. His jeans are ripped and torn and still somehow painted on like a second skin, and Jungkook raises an appreciative eyebrow as he tips over the bar just enough to get a look at his shoes.
Black. Converse. High.
Jungkook grips the bar hard enough to dent to stop himself from jumping over it and climbing this man like a short, all chest and some nuts, tree.
Jimin sprays the bar hose slightly in his direction and Taehyung is cackling into his cup of water, so Jungkook tips back from his position of being half draped across the bar and gestures to the half empty pop bottle questioningly.
“Actually, I thought we could switch it up tonight, maybe a change of scenery?” Hoseok answers, smiling that shy little smile again and tucking his hands into his back pockets (biceps!!) as he rocks a little on his heals. “What time do you finish your shift?” For a minute, Jungkook truly believes he’s hearing bells and harps, maybe a whole orchestra, but it’s just Jimin squeaking and losing grip of the hose as Taehyung drops his glass of water into the sink.
Hoseok flinches at the noise and looks between the three of them nervously.
“Right now! He’s done now, right now!” Taehyung supplies breathlessly, broken glass forgotten as he saddles on up next to Jungkook and throws an arm around his shoulders. “Fired if he says otherwise, even!” Tae has neither the seniority or heart to fire an employee and he is smiling brightly, but it is menacing to the trained eye and though Jungkook was ready to walk out in order to provide the same exact answer, he nods very quickly. First at Taehyung and then at Hoseok.
“I just have to—I’m gonna go. Shirt. And pants. And… yah.” Hoseok is watching him openly, very warm and fond and Jungkook is in a daze as he walks away and gets out of his uniform. He has to go back to the changing room three times before he comes out wearing his Timberlands, and then switch them to their proper feet when he notices Hoseok smirking down at them.
There’s a dimness to the bar this late at night when no one is around, and Jungkook can see their reflection in the doors of the beer cooler and he smiles at how matching their outfits are. He’s wearing similar jeans, only a looser fit and less weathered with a plain white t-shirt tucked in, his Iron Man belt on proud display through the open red flannel he’s pretty sure he stole from Tae, and his favorite beanie.
He’s giddy and can’t believe he’s about to leave work early (early! On a Friday night!) to go on a date with Jung Hoseok. Said man smiles back at him in their reflections and only hesitates a little for reaction as he reaches over and laces their fingers together. Jungkook’s grip tightens embarrassingly quickly and it makes Hoseok laugh and tug his arm gently so they’re facing each other. “Can we just uh…” Hoseok says quietly, crowding into Jungkook’s space comfortably and leaning forward—all the while keeping his eyes trained on Jungkook for any signs that he doesn’t want what happens next.
The height difference is perfect for Jungkook to complete the distance between them and press his lips gently to Hoseok’s, and they’re soft and giving and Jungkook could do this all night.
…Only he can’t, actually, because in his haste and haze he forgot to breathe and now Hoseok is giggling and the vibrations are tickling his lips and making him smile. They pull apart and Jungkook’s other hand finds one of Hoseok’s belt loops and he tugs it playfully. “I’ve wanted to do that for weeks.” He doesn’t even care if Tae and Jimin are still watching them because Hoseok is grinning up at him and playing with one of the buttons on his flannel.
“Well, we could stay here and continue kissing while scarring your friends with gross PDA,” He’s smiling and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, stealing a sweet peck that all but knocks the air right out of Jungkook’s lungs. “Or you can let me take you out and buy you all-you-can-eat-hamburgers at the ShakeShack of your choice.” Yep, that’s love. He’s in love.
He starts walking backwards and pulling Hoseok along with him in the process, pretending to think about it. “That has always been my dream first date.” He responds seriously. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you when you see how much I can eat; my stomach and I are a package deal. You feed me, you gotta keep me.”
They’re almost out the door when they hear Jimin yelling about having his son back by midnight and Jungkook is about to groan in embarrassment and tell him to shut up, but Hoseok is full body laughing and tucking himself perfectly under Jungkook’s chin and everything is right in the world.
“Yes Mom!” He yells back, swooping down quickly and smiling into another stolen kiss.