Work Text:
Seokjin leaned closer to the computer screen, his shoulder pressing into Namjoon’s, and Namjoon kept his hand steady on the mouse because he was so, so used to this by now. He focused on the task at hand: finishing editing this Christmas video for BangtanTV, not paying attention to how warm Seokjin’s thigh was against his, and definitely NOT thinking about how really… this video might be coming off, like, super romantic? It wasn’t the intention, but. It wasn’t a big deal either; it wasn’t like it was some kind of a deep dark secret that Namjoon was—
“Nam, joo, nah,” Seokjin said in a singsong voice, jolting Namjoon out of his reverie. “It looks good to me, really.”
Namjoon turned his head to face Seokjin. They were alone in the tiny studio, like they often were, squeezed together in two tiny uncomfortable chairs. Seokjin’s eyes were round and ever so slightly crossed. His lips were a dark pink circle. It had taken long enough for them to edit the video that his nose and cheeks weren’t pink from the cold anymore, but as Namjoon kept looking at him, Seokjin’s ears started to flush. He blinked. Then he laughed awkwardly and turned back to the computer screen.
“Do you think it’s done?”
“Mmhm.”
“Let’s watch it one more time.”
⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆
Outside, it was snowing. Namjoon had no idea what time it was, but it was dark. He turned and Seokjin was looking up, watching the snowflakes swirling in the soft yellow cones of light under street lamps they passed on the way back to the dorm. Snow was landing on the shoulders of his black jacket, little dots of white that melted to water and disappeared, and in his hair where they stayed frozen for longer.
Seokjin turned, noticing Namjoon watching him, and blinked, an exaggerated movement. He was so handsome, but there was something about him that was so strange, too, in a way that made Namjoon feel somehow comforted. Even someone like Seokjin was… like him, it seemed.
They passed a few bars that were open late, or early, scattered smokers huddling outside in their heavy winter coats, the orange tips of their cigarettes standing out in the dark. Then a turn around a corner, and it was deserted.
The only sound, now, was their footsteps, crunching wetly through the fresh snow, and the faint swish of their jacket sleeves brushing together, first every few steps and then with each step. Seokjin’s elbow knocked into Namjoon’s, pressed against it, then stayed there. Namjoon’s face flamed.
“Namjoonah?” Seokjin said, suddenly breaking the silence.
“Yeah?” Namjoon cringed; his voice had cracked a little. Seokjin didn’t laugh. “Yeah?” He said it again, successfully this time. Seokjin stopped walking, so Namjoon stopped too, and they turned to face each other. A sudden gust of wind swirled through the narrow alley where they were standing and they both shivered. Namjoon could hear Seokjin’s teeth chatter, and he had the sudden urge to reach out and pull him close, to rub his hands up and down his arms and back until he was warm. He didn’t do it though.
“Do you like me?” Seokjin tilted his head as he looked at Namjoon’s face, made eye contact, blinked owlishly. His hands were in his pockets, his legs restless with cold. His cheeks and nose were pink again, his lips a red circle, like a cherry.
“Do you mean like…” Namjoon started, and he heard how noncommittal and awkward he sounded but wouldn’t it have been just as awkward and also humiliating on top of that if he had the wrong idea? Seokjin sighed, then he took one hand out of his pocket and put it on the side of Namjoon’s shoulder, tilted his head toward his other side, took a long teeth-chattering inhale of breath.
And then Seokjin leaned forward, and up, and kissed him.
It was fast, a press of his pretty soft lips against Namjoon’s, more of a question than anything else, and maybe also an answer to a question Namjoon no longer needed to ask. Seokjin pulled away quickly then immediately kissed him again, lingering longer this second time and then moving back. His hand was still on Namjoon’s shoulder, pulling, like he was hanging on him even though he was standing at a distance.
“Do you like me?” he asked again. His eyes and the snowflakes in his hair were sparkling.
“Yes,” Namjoon said.
“Good.”
When Seokjin turned to start walking again, Namjoon could see in the dim light that the tips of his ears were red. He was smiling very faintly. And he hadn’t put the hand that had been on Namjoon’s shoulder back in his pocket yet, so Namjoon took a step or two to catch up with him and then grabbed his hand before he could stuff it away.
Seokjin’s smile had deepened when Namjoon chanced a brief sideways look at him. His hand was small in Namjoon’s, and freezing. Their footsteps made soft puffing sounds in the snow as it piled up. Namjoon rubbed his thumb over the backs of Seokjin’s fingers. Before he knew it, they were warm.