Work Text:
"Oh, hey," Hoseok breathes out when he looks over his shoulder, "You're— You're still here."
Namjoon lets out a little laugh as he sets food down on the table. Seokjin had already dismissed him an hour ago, after he finally nailed the edits he and Seokjin had been working on for a good three, four hours or something, but even before he could pack his stuff and haul his bag over his shoulder one of the newer writers walked up to him and asked for a bit of advice, a bit of help. A 'quick consult', nothing more. The ten-minute consultation turned into an hour-long brainstorming and the whole hour he dedicated to that soon gave birth to a tiny mentoring session of sorts, with him giving the young writer cues as to how to flesh out her characters without going down 'the cheesy route' and then the rain decided to pour down just as soon as he'd started making plans how to spend whatever the hell it was was left of his day. Not that he didn't enjoy one bit of it — he did, and it gave him this... sense of power or influence or something, a sense of fulfilment, but the reality that he was still stuck in the office, an hour away from home remained.
And then there's also the fact that it hadn't been until an hour ago that Hoseok got the chance to sit down and really, really focus on doing the edits for the cover of Namjoon's book. That wasn't to say Hoseok needed guidance — he actually didn't, and Namjoon knew better than to poke his nose in Hoseok's work because Hoseok hated being watched as he powered through his tasks, but then Namjoon figured it would've been a dick move if he took the first train home and lounged on his couch knowing full well Hoseok was still suffering while working on the cover of his book, the very thing that would attract potential readers and, quite possibly, seal the sale.
"With burgers. And fries. And orange juice, because you're the only person I know who hates soda," Namjoon mumbles under his breath as he takes the food out one by one, in order, because the last time he hadn't Hoseok slapped his hands (more like tapped them lightly, but Namjoon liked to exaggerate things in his head, sometimes) and gave them a tight, reprimanding squeeze right after. Or maybe Namjoon shouldn't have, as an experiment, to see if Hoseok would do the same thing and they'd end up in the exact, same situation — hands caught in an awkward fit and an interesting shade of red strewn across their features — but hindsight is 20-20 and he's never been good with thinking on his feet whenever Hoseok is involved. "No ice for the juice, too, since you've been wheezing the entire week and the last thing I'd want is for my artist to get sick—"
My artist. Namjoon cracks his neck, then shifts all of his attention back on the food he's unloading from the bag when he catches Hoseok cock an eyebrow at him out of the corner of his eye. Yeah, because totally claiming him as yours makes you a lot less obvious than you want to be. He twists his mouth. The truth is, it isn't even a secret — he's been... pretty darn open about admiring Hoseok and wanting to know him more, better. Whenever people walk up to him and ask if he has a crush on Hoseok, if he likes the guy, he'd always say, "Yeah, why not? I mean, the guy works hard and delivers. He keeps outdoing himself every single time. What's not to crush on?" and laugh off the residual nervousness pooling at the base of his throat because it makes sense, doesn't it, to look up to and admire someone whose work ethic is impeccable? Doesn't it make sense to be a wee bit fond of someone who pushes himself 'til there's nothing he can give anymore just so he can everything right, down to the last detail? Isn't it just normal to be a be crushing on a co-worker, a teammate, someone you work with on the regular because he makes every working moment better, brighter, much more bearable?
Plus, he's pretty hot, Namjoon muses as he risks Hoseok a glance, peering through the slits of his bangs once he's done arranging the food on the table. Hoseok's eyes are still widened and his eyebrows are still arched, but now his pretty lips are parted a touch and there's a question in the tilt of his head where the slope of his neck is exposed just a bit more. There's a little mole somewhere in there, Namjoon knows it — he saw it once, when Hoseok came in wearing one of those boat-neck shirts of his and kept cracking his neck every few minutes in a move Namjoon swore was Hoseok's effort at slowly killing him — and he'll probably see it better if he just squints, but he's been trying to do better in the 'toning down his harmless little crush' department and it's rude to stare and now Hoseok is twisting his mouth and sucking in a deep, violent breath, letting out a soft bubble of laughter just before he says, "Cute."
Namjoon chokes on his own spit. Blinks, too, then gulps down hard before replaying the whole thing in his head — him staring at and studying Hoseok's features and honing in on his lips, then all of his senses proceeding to go haywire at the same time that Hoseok whispers in the tiniest voice he can possibly muster, Cute. It's probably just the hunger and the fatigue at work, really, making him hear things, but then it sounded so real, just now, muses a voice in Namjoon's head. It was loud and clear and too damn real and if he absolutely had to go now then nobody document him dropping dead and turning into a pile of goo soon after.
"Cute shirt, I mean," Hoseok rushes, mumbling, "Pink looks nice on you— Thanks for the food, by the way. I'm... not paying for this, right? Haha!" His voice trails off into bright laughter. Namjoon looks up at that, meeting Hoseok's gaze just before Hoseok looks elsewhere — the food, his feet, anything that isn't Namjoon's face — and Namjoon has to suppress the urge to murmur right back, No, you're cute. "By the way, I'm, uh, almost done with the edits on the cover. Just a few more touch ups and stuff and it should be good to go, I think. Gimme an hour or two, maybe?"
Namjoon twists his mouth a little. See, this is the thing that makes Hoseok ten times more attractive than he already is — his dedication to his craft, to his work. His determination to get things done even if he's running on probably just twenty percent of his energy because it's fucking nine in the evening, geez, even if he can just work on the edits the following day, eyes refreshed and his desire to shove accomplished materials in Seokjin's face renewed. His inability to let even the smallest of imperfections go because "The little things add up, y'know," Namjoon recalls Hoseok telling him a couple of months back, two in the morning, as he kept redoing the shadows on the face of a comic he and Namjoon had to pull out of their asses at the very last minute to save another teammate's ass. "Pretty soon, those little things will haunt you and you'll regret not redoing that one stroke or a tiny panel or a sentence, in your case. And then you'll hate yourself for being too lazy to make things perfect." Granted, being a perfectionist has its downsides — Namjoon knows that all too well — and he can't even count the number of times Hoseok has had to take a sick leave following a really long day at work, but still — Namjoon has never met anyone with that much passion for his craft, and he's not sure if he will ever again.
So don't let him go, whispers a voice in his head. He brushes it off when Hoseok finally, finally looks him in the eye, then tries to offer the best smile he can muster through the weird, lurching sensation in his stomach, even when Hoseok goes on to say, "But hey, you don't—you don't have to wait for it here. I mean, you can just... go home now, if you want to, and I'll just email you stuff and text you once I've sent the thing over already so you can—"
So if Hoseok can stop sputtering words and, instead, actually get to eating already because the food's getting cold then that would be great. So if Hoseok can just take a second to take a step back and slow down a little, then it will be so much easier for Namjoon to tell the racing in his chest to take it easy and keep him from reaching over and grabbing Hoseok by the shoulders to say right to his face, hey, chill. No need to rush. We have time. Ish. So if he can actually coax his body to cooperate with him, now, and let him say the right words now, with Hoseok at an arm's length, then that would be amazing. Then he'll be able to help Hoseok wave off the worry curling in his gut, or the stress coursing through Hoseok's veins, pushing him to get all of his words out in a single breath. And then he'll be able to tell Hoseok, "I got us burgers and fries. Do you really think I'm planning to leave anytime soon?"
Hoseok laughs. It's not one of his usual big barks of laughter, or one where he gets so red in the face, he could pass off as a human tomato already — nope, it sounds more like he'd just wheezed it out, throat still recovering from him letting his words claw their way up and out of his mouth. It even sounds kind of nervous, but then when has Hoseok ever been that? Antsy, sure, because Hoseok is the type of person who'd fret over the smallest of details if he hasn't checked his material at least five times, but nervous? Jittery? Tripping on his words because he can't tame the wild thumping in his chest?
"I mean, I—I can't design for shit so I won't be much help here, but we're a team, so—" Namjoon shrugs his shoulders the best he can, but in the end it feels more like a shoulder wiggle than anything else. It does make Hoseok laugh, though, adds just a bit of color to his cheeks — half the battle won. Three-fourths, if Namjoon considers the way his insides do that weird belly flop when Hoseok drops his gaze to his feet at the same time that he rubs the tip of his nose (and then a whole battle and a half won by a landslide if he considers the way his breath catches in his throat at Hoseok looking up again, straight at him). In another dream, he'd probably be dead by now, knocked out completely by the smile that's slowly teasing the corners of Hoseok's lips up, but nope — he's awake and he's very much alive and now his body decides to work with him, throat relaxing so he can say, "I think it's kind of a given that I should stay here while you slave over my book's cover because I'd be a dick, otherwise—"
Hoseok rolls his eyes. Now, there's the Hoseok he sees a lot of, the Hoseok he's more accustomed to. Not the one getting all awkward and jittery earlier — that one's a cute little stranger, a pleasant surprise. A beat, then Hoseok is heaving a sigh and saying, "No, you're not a— Well, not all the time, at least. But hey, you're already done with your stuff," pausing only to wave a hand in the air. "You don't have to stay behind—"
"But what if I want to?" Namjoon says, blurts out. Hoseok arches his eyebrows, purses his lips, but there's no denying the glimmer of something in his eyes, those crinkles at the corners, or the way he keeps biting back that silly grin threatening to spill from his lips. "I don't—I don't mind staying here with you. Waiting for the, uh, revised cover, I mean. Which isn't due 'til 5 p.m. tomorrow, anyway, so—"
So take a break with me, murmurs a voice in Namjoon's head, whines when Hoseok's features begin to contort a certain way, like he's just nailed something — a word, a thought, something he's been long wanting to put a name to, So push yourself away from your laptop, geez. So let's cut to the chase. So stop it with that face of yours. If he ever thinks of calling Namjoon out on that cut-off sentence, though, or the fact that his jaw is still slack, he only ever laughs and murmurs, "Let's eat." He only wheels his seat closer and stares 'til Namjoon finally takes his place beside him so he can mumble loud enough for Namjoon to hear, "Good call on the juice, by the way, Been thinking of grabbing some earlier but I didn't have time," and doesn't laugh at Namjoon silly, doesn't tell him, No, you stop it with that face of yours. You're funny. You're weird.
"Yeah, sure. No problem," Namjoon murmurs, slowly peeling the wrapper of his burger. He catches Hoseok's soft laughter through the crackling of the paper, above the engine noise in the room. It curls at the base of his nape like a quilt.
Halfway through their meal, Hoseok hums, "Pink really does look good on you." He peers at Namjoon out of a corner of his eye, lips slanted into a small smile, then takes a deep, deep breath. "You should wear pink more."
Namjoon blinks. It's so easy to make things up in his head at nine in the evening on a work day, especially after exhausting his brain cells in that longass editing session of theirs, but whatever — he trusts his gut feel enough on a full stomach to keep his senses alive. He turns to Hoseok, then, whispering, "Yeah, sure. I'll... keep that in mind," then takes a big, big bite of his burger, letting the heat of the meat bleed onto his cheeks. "I won't forget."
Under the table, he feels Hoseok's ankle brush against his own. He laughs against the bun and keeps his eyes fixed on the wrapper rested against his fingertips. He feels warm all over.