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If this day had a face, Seokjin would happily punch it.
He sucks a slow, hissing breath in through his teeth as he bends over to pick up the empty coffee cup he managed to drop right next to the bin instead of inside.
The coffee wasn’t even that great — the barista he’d known for months somehow messed up his order and the breakfast croissants were stale.
A screw came loose in his office chair, making the seat lopsided, which resulted in a dull ache nesting itself in Seokjin’s lower back.
His boss chewed him out for someone else’s fuck-up and then, when someone meekly pointed it out, didn’t own up to his mistake.
During lunch break, Jungkook beat him to the counter and snatched the last one of his favorite onion bagels. He grinned victoriously as Seokjin kicked his ass when the brat walked by on his way out.
Finally, at the very end of this shitshow of a work day, he tripped and nearly brained himself on the coffee machine.
Seokjin is heading home, looking forward to taking a long bath, bundling up on the couch with his Switch, and waiting for this horrible day to be over when it starts raining. Scratch that — it starts pouring buckets, and of course Seokjin forgot his umbrella at the office.
He grits his teeth.
Fuck this day entirely.
It’s only a few more blocks until he’s finally home and Seokjin thinks it can’t get any worse but he’s wrong: as he swings his leg to step over a puddle, his luck evidently decides to just fuck off, because his front foot suddenly skids further forward and, with a pathetic squawk, he ass-plants onto the drenched asphalt.
Murky water splashes and soaks his jeans immediately, and it takes everything in Seokjin not to scream a long string of expletives at the sky, shaking his fist like the lead in a drama who’d just been horribly betrayed (the feeling of betrayal, he can attest, is definitely there).
Seokjin scrambles to his feet and notes with relief that at least he didn’t sprain or bruise anything. Groaning internally at the state of his clothes, he finally makes it home and tries to shake at least some of the water out of his hair as he unlocks the door to his apartment.
In the tiny entryway, Seokjin drops his bag onto the floor and immediately starts undressing, eager to get rid of the cold, sopping material. The lights in the kitchen are on, so Hoseok is home, but Seokjin decides that he’s got too few fucks left to give any about the possibility of his roommate seeing him in his underwear on his way to the bathroom.
(Wouldn’t exactly be the first time, truth be told. Seokjin had nothing to hide and Hoseok seemed to appreciate it... most of the time.)
All Seokjin wants right now is a hot shower, preferably three hours long. And maybe some wine afterwards.
Off come his shoes, socks and proven to be useless against the rain jacket.
He bends over and pushes his jeans down when a familiar voice comes from somewhere in the apartment.
“Hyung? You’re home?”
“Yuh!” Seokjin grunts. “I’ve had an absolute ass of a day, Hoseokie, so I hope you’ve got some booze stashed away unless you want to listen to me bitch and whine until my fucking lungs give out.”
He’s busy working one pant leg over his foot so he can’t make out what Hoseok says in response.
“I mean it! I don’t give two burning shits about the fact that today’s Tuesday, I wasted so much energy suppressing the world’s strongest urge to bust a knee up my boss’ ass, which makes me eligible for a hard drink tonight.” Seokjin yanks the second pant leg off and kicks his jeans away. A thought causes him to pause. “Unless the only thing you have on hand is that weird-ass liqueur that tastes like you’d wrung out your grandma’s panties.” He shudders. “That shit’s nasty.”
Seokjin is pulling his sweater over his head when he hears approaching footsteps, followed by a familiar voice, sounding closer.
“Sure, hyung, I think we had red wine if you want some. Also that was uncalled for, I had no idea you hated anise that much.”
“Hoseokie, I’m pretty sure the way its name sounds so similar to anus is not accidental. You know what, scratch that — rimming a warthog sounds like a nicer experience than consuming that vile poison again.”
Hoseok appears in the doorway and immediately gets an incoming lump of wet sweater to the face. He bats it away with an indignant squeak, which Seokjin finds mildly gratifying. He grins at his donsaeng’s expression and grabs the edge of his T-shirt to take it off next.
“So, uh, hyung, you remember Min Yoongi, right? My coworker?”
Seokjin throws a glance at Hoseok, who suddenly sounds oddly hesitant.
“Sure, Hoseokie, I remember your unfairly hot and adorable coworker,” Seokjin resumes tugging at his T-shirt. “Who’s as infuriatingly cute as he is clueless about my attempts to get in his pants.”
Hoseok’s whole body twitches. “So, uh… yeah, about him…”
“Ugh, do we have to talk about him right now?” Seokjin finally pulls his T-shirt off and shakes his head like a wet dog. Hoseok yelps and scrambles back a step as a few water droplets land on him, muttering “Ew-w, dirty water! On my face!”
Seokjin drops the shirt onto the floor by his feet with a sad plop. “My mood is shit enough, Hobi,” he runs a hand through his damp hair and heads toward the doorway that connects the entryway to the living space. “Now’s not a good time to be reminding me of how the humanization of a sexy marshmallow completely ignores all of my subtle hints that I would very gladly sit on…” He pushes past Hoseok and steps into the living room.
And freezes.
“...his face.” He finishes, helplessly.
For the very face he was just talking about in such an ungentlemanly manner is staring at him — eyes wide and pale-pink lips parted ever so slightly — from the corner of their very old couch, where Min Yoongi sits, in the flesh, frozen in shock with a mug in one hand, raised halfway.
Seokjin opens his mouth, promptly realizes that he has absolutely no fucking idea what to say, and closes it. He tightens the fingers still stuck in his hair, faintly hoping that the pain of digging his own fingernails into his scalp will jolt him awake and put an end to this increasingly hellish nightmare.
On some instinct, because his mind has turned into a flurry of white noise, he tries to inch slowly back out of the room, only to bump into Hoseok, who bleats lamely from behind him, “We finished early today and I, uh, invited him over… for tea.”
A heavy, awkward silence settles over the room and seems to last two years.
Seokjin sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. It’s not that he’s feeling defensive necessarily, but he is still damp and slightly chilled, and he definitely didn’t expect for his nipples to receive so much attention today. His ears and cheekbones feel like they’ve been set on fire — it’s not every day that he got the chance to fuck up this spectacularly and present himself as a complete jackass in front of the one person he’d been trying very hard to make a good impression on for months. The fact that he’s almost naked is the least of his concerns at the moment.
Min Yoongi averts his gaze and lowers his mug, placing it on the coffee table in front of him with exaggerated care. Seokjin follows the movement, finding it easier to look at the inanimate object than at the person in front of him.
Hoseok mumbles something about tea again, slithers past Seokjin into the kitchen and closes the door behind him.
Min Yoongi clears his throat. “Uh. Good evening?” He tries and shoots Seokjin a quick glance before looking down again.
Seokjin scoffs and rolls his eyes, but he’s pleased to note that Min Yoongi looks neither angry nor disgusted — just really, really embarrassed. Small victories, Seokjin muses. We take those.
He relaxes his shoulders a bit and leans against the door jamb. “Good evening to you too, Min Yoongi-ssi. How have you been?” He says casually. “I haven’t had the best of days, as you might’ve overheard. In fact, I’d say it was utter horseshit.”
A tiny, crooked smile pulls at one corner of Min Yoongi’s pretty mouth. “So I’ve heard.”
They’re still talking, Seokjin assesses. Min Yoongi hasn’t tried to punch him in the face or expose his shitty ways, which he takes as a good sign. Seokjin supposes that, at a point as low as this, the only way to go is up. “I’m sure you have, Yoongi-ssi. As for some of the other things you might have overheard, I would like to sincerely apologize for sounding… uncouth.”
“Oh, no,” Yoongi looks up at Seokjin through his bangs, which makes his expression hard to read. “There’s no need for that.”
Huh. Well then.
Feeling slightly encouraged, Seokjin takes a few steps into the room. “Is that so, Yoongi-ssi?”
“Uh-huh,” Yoongi responds in a tone that is definitely bordering on cheeky.
“Please, do elaborate,” Seokjin continues his slow advance. “Because I’m starting to get ideas and I’d really like to make sure that we’re on the same page here.”
Min Yoongi doesn’t say anything but lets out a low, rumbly hum. He straightens his back against the couch and gives Seokjin a very slow, very deliberate once-over that speaks volumes.
A grin tugs at Seokjin’s lips, but then a sobering thought occurs to him. “Hold up.” He’s now close enough that, when he leans forward, he looms over Yoongi and he’s happy to use the height advantage. “If you’re so eager all of a sudden, why’d you never respond to any of my flirting before?! I thought you weren’t interested!”
Min Yoongi’s cheeks color a delightful shade of pink; he grimaces and looks away. “I wasn’t... not interested. I thought that maybe you were just... teasing.” He slides another quick glance over Seokjin’s body. “You obviously could do way better than me. I wasn’t sure if you were being serious.”
Seokjin lets out an exasperated sigh. He quickly takes another step forward and leans in really close, forcing Yoongi to press himself into the back of the couch. “Min Yoongi, some people might say I’m allergic to serious, but they don’t know shit. I never flirt for sport.” They are so close the tips of their noses are almost brushing. “If you’d like, I’m perfectly willing to climb into your lap right now and show you how serious I am.”
Yoongi gulps nervously and licks his lips.
Seokjin smirks.
Something falls in the kitchen with a loud crash, followed by Hoseok yelling, “It’s fine! I’m fine!”
They jolt apart and breathe out, feeling as if a thread of tension has been cut between them.
A shiver passes over Seokjin’s shoulders and Yoongi clears his throat again. “As much as I’m tempted to take you up on that offer, I think you should put some clothes on,” he glances somewhere in the area of Seokjin’s waist, visibly conflicted. “Not that I don’t appreciate the view — quite the opposite, don’t get me wrong,” he meets Seokjin’s eyes and grins. “But I’d hate for you to catch a cold right as I’m about to ask you out.”
Seokjin opens his mouth to argue but lets out a loud sneeze instead. “Ugh, that would be awful, wouldn’t it?” He winds his arms around himself and shivers. “Go harass Hobi for some more tea while I hop in the shower, and then we could… I dunno, hang out? If you want? We could force Hobi to cook something.” Seokjin fidgets and it’s weird, they’ve just talked about all sorts of suggestive shit and he’s been practically naked the whole time, so it makes no sense that he’s getting shy now all of a sudden, but he is. He wonders if he made it weird.
His reward is Yoongi’s wide, gummy smile and cutely flushed cheeks, gaze so warm Seokjin wants to wrap himself in it.
“Sure,” Yoongi says as they grin at each other like total morons. “I’d love to hang out.”
Halfway to his room, Seokjin stops in the narrow hallway and listens to the faint sounds of voices talking and dishes clinking in the kitchen. Seokjin can’t help himself — he giggles and does a little victory dance, and supposes that, perhaps, this day wasn’t complete shit, after all.
*
P.S.
Yoongi asks Seokjin out before going home that night.
*
P.P.S.
He gets to see him naked (fully) soon after.