Work Text:
Jiho wants something from Jaebum.
Jaebum's not sure what it is, exactly, but he knows when people want something from him. They act differently, and Jiho's been showing all the usual signs: showing up at the studio randomly, name-dropping him all over the place (really, all over the place, Jiho's everywhere these days), tracking him down backstage at music shows to the point that the rest of his group has started hanging around Jaebum's crew by default. They're not bad kids, Park Kyung's definitely alright. The tall one always looks nervous, but Jiho's assured him that's normal.
It's just that – it's not like he's unwilling to give Jiho what he wants. He'd just feel better if he knew what it was. It makes something knot in his stomach, the shadow of expectation, never knowing when it's going to drop and how heavy it's going to be when it does. Whenever there's a camera on them he feels like he's supposed to be acting a certain way, and Jiho's all hands and smiles and gestures with his mile-long limbs and perfectly airbrushed skin, and it's easy to sit back and let him do all the work, but it makes Jaebum feel out of the loop, and he doesn't like that. He just wants to know what Jiho wants.
“What's up with Zico, do you think?” he asks Hep. He's with his old crew today, they've just heard that Jiho mentioned his name on another radio show, a collaboration he was particularly excited about, something like that. Jaebum hopes that means Jiho's company is finally gonna give the green-light to release one of the tracks they recorded together, but he hasn't heard anything from Jiho himself, so for now it's just another hint he can't figure out. Doesn't want to have to figure out, honestly, but no one's straightforward. People aren't comfortable telling you they want to use you for something. Not here, not in the States. Bullshit is a worldwide epidemic.
Hep looks sideways at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean...” Jaebum wishes he hadn't said anything. If Hep had noticed it, he'd probably have said something by now. Hep has significantly less bullshit than the rest of the world.
“I don't know,” he says, after a moment. “He's been coming around a lot, you know? I just...I feel like he's gonna ask for a favor.”
Hep turns to face him, chews and swallows of a piece of the chicken dish he's been picking at. “Yeah, I noticed he's been coming around more. I figured that was just 'cause you guys are friends.”
Jaebum has considered that. They are friends. It just seems like Jiho's been escalating things, but he can't say that out loud, because it sounds ridiculous even in his head. Jaebum knows people, and he likes to think he knows himself, but he can't figure out why Jiho's behavior has him so on edge.
“You mean, like,” Hep struggles to articulate through another mouthful of chicken, “a work favor?”
Jaebum shrugs.
“Well, he's pretty popular right now,” Hep says thoughtfully. “Probably better connected than you with the whole idol thing. You really think he wants a favor?”
Jaebum frowns. “I dunno,” he says again. Hep raises an eyebrow. “Whatever. It doesn't matter, honestly. I'm just in a weird mood.”
Hep nods, effectively dropping the subject. Jaebum's relieved. Besides, it's not like Jiho's that much better connected than him. Hep doesn't fully understand how the industry works, Jiho might be a hot issue, but Jaebum's still the hyung. Even though Jiho's about a hundred times more professional than most of the kids his age, he still has to act like a hoobae, has to cultivate relationships to credit them for his success, despite the fact that he's done all the work himself. Maybe that's all this is. Maybe Jiho's like this with everyone.
Except, that doesn't sit well with Jaebum either. He doesn't want to be just another one of Jiho's obligatory sunbaenims. It actually makes him feel a little sick to his stomach, the thought that Jiho is acting like this because he thinks he has to. He shouldn't have to do anything. The kid does enough, for God's sake.
“It's probably just idol stuff,” Chase says. Jaebum looks over at him. He hadn't realized any of the other guys were paying attention. “It's good for both your reps.”
It takes some effort not to scoff automatically, but Jaebum knows he'd get shade from everyone in the room. Probably deservedly. It's one thing to front for the camera, but they all work too hard to treat fame like a fluke anymore.
“Maybe he just wants your dick.” Junior, obviously. Jaebum rolls his eyes.
“Nah, bro, that's you,” Hep says. “Quit projecting.”
Everyone laughs. Junior makes an obscene gesture, and Jaebum flips him off good-naturedly. It's just like old times, and it does help alleviate some of his tension. He's too busy to worry about shit like this anyways. Jiho can obviously take care of himself. Whatever he wants from Jaebum, it's probably not important.
It's probably not sex, either. Not that Jaebum's entirely opposed to the idea, but there are lots of people that want to fuck him, and that's one thing he's definitely good at picking up on. If Jiho just wanted to fuck, they'd've fucked by now. They'd've fucked years ago. Sex is way too easy, and it's not like there's a shortage of people who want to fuck Jiho, either.
The studio seems uncomfortably warm all of a sudden. Jaebum scratches a phantom itch at the back of his neck and turns towards Hep, determined to stop thinking about...whatever he was just thinking about. The last good lay he had. Warm skin, wet mouth. Jiho's mouth. What it might be like if –
“Let me see that,” he says, reaching for the tablet in Hep's hands. “Where's this footage from?” His voice is only a little higher than usual. If Hep notices, he doesn't say anything.
The footage is older, some stage he did in 2013 they're using for promotional stuff. It makes him want to hit the gym more than anything, he hasn't been practicing nearly enough – but it's as good a distraction as any. There's no time to get in his head about hypothetical shit. The new album drops in less than a month, and then everyone's gonna want something from him.
“Dude,” he says. “Don't put this shit in the promos. People'll think I can still do it.”
Hep laughs.
*
They're backstage at a rap battle, just spectating, when he runs into Jiho again. Specifically, when a familiar voice says, “Hey, do you know my friend? This is Jay Park, yeah, Jay-Jay – ” and a hand is on his shoulder turning him around.
“Jay Park,” Jiho says again, grinning between Jaebum and the camera guy. He's wearing sunglasses, even though it's dark as fuck backstage. Jaebum doubts he can even see.
“What the fuck,” he says, returning Jiho's high five. “What's up, man.”
“What's up, Jay Park,” Jiho says again, and Jaebum realizes he's speaking English.
“Sorry,” he says, switching to Korean. “I'm kind of drunk.”
Jiho laughs. “He's crazy,” he says to the camera. “This hyung is crazy. He's a bad influence.”
“Fuck off,” Jaebum says. Jiho's so tall. Fucking idols.
Jiho beams down at him. “Jay hyung, I was looking all over for you. I have to ask you something.”
“I can't marry you, Zico,” Jaebum says. “All the brides are going strapless, and I don't have the tits for it. Also, my mother would kill me.”
Jiho stares at him, mouth slightly open, then bursts into hysterical laughter. “Fuck,” he says. “Jesus fucking Christ. Hyung.”
Jaebum winks at the camera. “This kid doesn't give up easy.”
“I don't,” Jiho agrees. He puts his hand on Jaebum's shoulder. “Accept me, Jay hyung.”
“Denied,” Jaebum says. He tries not to lean into where Jiho is touching him, where his hands are warm and unexpectedly soft. “You're a pest.”
Jiho shakes his head. “This hyung. He's no good.” His hand tightens for a moment on Jaebum's shoulder, and then he pulls it away abruptly. Jaebum almost stumbles from the loss of contact.
“Whoa,” Jiho says, voice low. “Easy.”
“I'm good,” Jaebum says, and he is. He turns to the camera. “Zico's trying to sabotage my good name. How can he come over here so familiarly and act like this?” Jiho folds over laughing again, making apologetic gestures, and Jaebum slings his arm around his shoulders, affecting a mock-stern expression. “It's positively shameful,” he says. “Shameful behavior.”
“Jay hyung,” Jiho says. His arm is around Jaebum's waist, strong. “Say something to support the album that we're promoting. You've listened to it, right?”
“Oh, yeah,” Jaebum says. He'd forgotten Jiho was promoting. “It's a very good album. I bought a copy for everyone in my agency, because Zico promised me he'd sign them.”
“I'll sign them next time I'm there,” Jiho pronounces, pointing at the camera. “Say something to support Block B!”
Jaebum raises his fist. This part always feels cheesy, but he knows how to play it. “Block B fighting!” he says. He turns his fist and bumps Jiho under the chin. “Zico fighting!”
“Ah,” Jiho grins, leaning his head away while still holding Jaebum tightly against him, “Jay hyung is really the best. Okay,” he says to the cameraman. “That's good. Thank you.”
“Nice job,” the cameraman says, lowering the camera. “Any idea where Park Kyung is?”
“Yeah, he'll be trying to flirt with the presenters,” Jiho says, running a hand up into his hair. “Try to get some candid shots of that before you film him directly, it's always funny.”
The cameraman hurries off, and Jiho finally lets go of Jaebum's waist.
Jaebum looks around for Sunghwa and the rest of the guys he came with, but they seem to have disappeared. He turns back to Jiho, who is still looking at him with a funny expression on his face. Or maybe it's just the sunglasses. Jaebum can't really be sure.
“So Park Kyung's got weak game, huh?” he says. It's not a real question, but he doesn't know what else to say. He's been alone with Jiho before – if this even counts as being alone, when there are people bumping into them on all sides – but it's always been in some kind of professional context, never like this, when his limbs are heavy with liquor and the noise from the stage means Jiho has to stoop low to hear him and their fingers keep brushing together from the sheer proximity.
“What?” Jiho says. “Oh, no. Not really. He has more game than people think.”
Jaebum says, “Oh.”
“But I have the most game,” Jiho adds, smirking.
“Please,” Jaebum says. “How old are you? Twelve?”
Jiho raises his eyebrows.
“Can you even see me right now? I'm serious, you know you're not Kanye West, right?”
“I can see you,” Jiho says. Jaebum becomes aware that his back is against the wall. He's not sure when that happened.
Jiho licks his lips.
He's really, stupidly tall.
“Be honest,” Jaebum says. Jiho's breath hitches. “Are you wearing lifts right now? I'm not judging, I'm seriously asking.”
He's not sure why his heart is hammering. Jiho's really close, and sure, really beautiful, but most of Jaebum's life since he came to Korea has been spent pressed up against beautiful people. He'd felt like this all the fucking time until he was nineteen, and then he'd gotten over it. Supposedly.
“Um,” Jiho says. He looks down, presses his tongue into his cheek like he's embarrassed. “What? No, I don't – I don't wear those.”
Jaebum looks at his shoes. They're just sneakers. “Oh.”
Jiho pulls his hat off and runs his fingers through his hair again. “Yeah,” he says. Then he smirks again. “Why, you need to borrow a pair?”
“Fuck off,” Jaebum says. “If I wanted to wear heels, I'd join a girl group.”
Jiho turns red. Jaebum isn't really sure what's happening with this conversation, why Jiho is still even here. His heart is still racing, his thoughts are clouded and confusing and he doesn't want to look at them too closely. It's very likely he's too drunk for this.
“What are you doing?” he says. “Don't you have a film crew here?”
“Just the one guy,” Jiho says. “The company just wanted extra footage for a DVD. They'll contact you if they wanna use any of it.”
“Shouldn't you be...” Jaebum swallows. “Like, with him?”
Jiho looks affronted. “What, am I bothering you?”
Jaebum looks toward the stage. “I didn't mean it like that, relax.” This would be a lot easier if he could put his hands in his pockets. He needs to stop wearing such tight jeans. “I guess I just...do you want something?” He glances at Jiho. “You're alright?”
Jiho looks utterly nonplussed. “Me? I'm fine,” he says. “I'm fucking great, what are you...no, I don't want anything. I just wanted to talk to you.”
This is awkward. Jaebum didn't mean for it to become awkward. “I'm sorry,” he says. “I'm just fucking drunk.” He laughs. “I don't even know where Gray and those guys went. What the fuck.”
“I think I saw them back by the lounge,” Jiho says. He pauses. “You should be careful, you know. There's other cameras around too.”
He's right, honestly. “I don't usually get this faded from champagne,” Jaebum admits. “I think I forgot to eat today. But I'm fine, I'll be good. I'm done for the night.”
“Yeah,” Jiho says. “Good.” His fingers tangle with Jaebum's, a split second that has Jaebum's heart pounding against his ribcage again.
“Did you just hold my hand?” he demands, straightening up off the wall. The cheers from outside the stage seem louder as soon as he's upright. Everything, actually, seems a little clearer. Jiho's practically glowing.
Jiho laughs. “Did I what? Hyung, you're too much.”
“You did, you held my hand,” Jaebum says. “That's kind of cute.”
“I told you I have game,” Jiho grins. He's red again. Good. Jaebum doesn't a babysitter, least of all a babysitter five years younger than him.
“Yeah, you're drowning in it. I'm weak in the knees,” Jaebum says. “Take those fucking sunglasses off, you look like an idiot. Let's go watch the stage, come on. It's boring back here.”
Somewhere between the backstage area and the crowd gathered in front, Jiho takes his hand again. Probably there's purpose to it this time, guiding him to a place they can stand and observe comfortably, maybe it's incidental that Jiho's thumb keeps rubbing over his knuckle as they move. Maybe this is what Jiho wants – he lets himself think it, fleetingly. Maybe it's all he wants. (Maybe Jiho's not the only one that wants it. Maybe.)
The lights on the stage are blinding, pulsing with the beat from the speakers. Jiho's hand flexes, giving Jaebum an out he should probably take. There are cameras around, after all.
He squeezes Jiho's hand, once, before he lets go.