Chapter Text
This. This right here is why Namjoon doesn’t do one-night stands. Because it’s awkward as hell afterwards. Because, of course , he will somehow end up bumping into the guy he was bumping uglies with two nights ago, and of course this encounter has to be lengthy because of course the pretty boy who’d ended up in his bed after that god-awful party is his brand-fucking-new co-worker.
Namjoon had been thoroughly enjoying his boring-ass day writing timesheets, thank you very much, when the less-annoying front desk girl from Student Affairs had poked her head in.
“Hi, Namjoon! We found somebody to help you out!” She had opened the door all the way and waved a tall guy in. “Alright! That’s your desk, I guess. Good luck!” She then melted away and it had taken Namjoon approximately fifteen seconds to figure out why, exactly, he knew the guy and then... Fuck. The party last weekend. Too much to drink, no Hoseok to keep him from making bad decisions like one-night stands, goddamnit.
“Someone shoot me,” he now moans, almost silently, as he watches the new guy, Jin? I think he told me his name was Jin before we...um, yeah, examine his tiny fully-stocked desk with interest, opening and closing the drawers. Namjoon runs a hand through his bleached hair, tugging on it in exasperation.
The administrative section of the university’s tutoring department has just been Namjoon since his sophomore year when his ‘boss’ (Namjoon uses the term loosely because she pretty much left him alone about work unless she couldn’t find something) had graduated. Since then, Namjoon has been entirely in charge of the department. It had been fine until he’d hit his senior year and was too busy applying to grad schools to remember his own name, let alone keep up with tutoring assignments, and after months of begging the Student Affairs Office, he’s finally been given another person to help out. Only Namjoon could have the luck to end up with the one guy he’d done the whole ‘hit it and quit it’ thing with since he was too young and stupid to realize how fucking awkward it is when you run into them again.
“Hello? Kim-ssi?” A soft, slightly nasally voice shoots Namjoon’s eyes up, only to see the guy looking down at him with a polite smile on his pretty-ass face. He’s tall, almost as tall as Namjoon, with a slender physique that is by no means wispy. He looks like someone who’d star in films or model face creams. Clearing his throat, Namjoon restrains his imagination in favor of answering.
“Um, yeah?” Namjoon isn’t usually this awkward, damn it, but the guy knows what his dick looks like, and that kind of information is dangerous and highly embarrassing in the wrong hands.
“My name is Kim Seokjin. I’m your new assistant director!” Seokjin, not Jin, gives him a real smile this time. One that brightens the whole room. Namjoon is suddenly hit by a realization.
I don’t...I don’t think he remembers me. Damn, he must get around a lot if he can’t even remember the guy...wait, that’s judgemental. Don’t judge people, damn it. Also, we were drunk. He didn’t seem super drunk, but who knows? I certainly don’t. I don’t even know the guy. Shit. I don’t even know the guy, but I sure as hell remember what his ass looks like.
Namjoon realizes that Seokjin is looking down at him expectantly. Right. Talking. I’m supposed to do that shit now.
“I’m Kim Namjoon. The director, I guess. I’ve been the only one here for a few years, so director is kind of a weird way to put it but...Anyway. Um, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?”
Seokjin seems to actually twinkle and Namjoon has to restrain himself from wincing at the brightness of it. “I’m a grad student studying physical therapy. I’m very organized, and I’m available to work every day of the week except Thursdays.”
“Oh, you’re my hyung, then. I’m a senior undergrad.” Somehow, Seokjin being Namjoon’s hyung makes this weirder. But, hey, if Seokjin doesn’t remember Namjoon, Namjoon can fake not remembering Seokjin. Namjoon gets to his feet and gestures for the pretty man to follow him over to the filing cabinets that line one wall of the windowless cell that is their office.
“This cabinet has the files of people who need tutors or are being tutored, and this one has the files of tutors. Basically, what we do here is interview people applying to be tutors to see if they’re qualified and then match them up with people who need tutoring. It’s a lot of trying to make sure they’re both free at the same time, and stuff like that. We log how many hours the tutors are working and submit it to the payroll people. Also, if a tutor doesn’t show up or the kid being tutored is still struggling, we find a replacement or reprimand the tutor. That kind of shit.”
Seokjin nods solemnly, as if he’s trying to commit this to memory.
Namjoon sighs, running one hand through his hair and shoving the other into the pocket of his sweatshirt. “Since I’m used to doing this by myself, I’m not really sure what to tell you to do right now...unless you feel like actually thoroughly organizing all this,” Namjoon jerks his head towards the filing cabinets. “I have a good memory, so I usually remember where I put shit, but I’m terrible at organizing things. If you are, then…” he jerks up his shoulders in a shrug.
“Yeah. I can do that! I’ll get started.”
Namjoon nods and shuffles back to his desk, plopping gracelessly into his ancient rolling office chair and returning his attention to the threatening email he was typing before Seokjin showed up. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the tall brunette shrug off his jacket, damn his shoulders are nice , and cautiously approach the filing cabinets. He opens the top drawer and visibly shudders in horror. Oh, good. He’s a real neat freak.
His phone buzzes in his pocket, and Namjoon pulls it out to read the text message.
Hoseok 1:33 pm
hows ur newby? they suck??
Namjoon 1:33 pm
no. but I know him.
Hoseok 1:34 pm
that a good thing?
Namjoon 1:35 pm
it’s a very awkward thing. I’ll tell you later.
Hoseok 1:35 pm
wat did u do.
Namjoon glares at his phone screen. Why do his friends always assume that any awkwardness is his fault? This time it was only half his fault, and he was the only one who felt awkward, anyway. Namjoon looks up and sees that Seokjin is sitting on the floor surrounded by files, holding a bright pink highlighter and a sharpie in one hand and a stack of post-it notes in the other. Namjoon sighs and tugs his headphones from around his neck to press them over his ears.
“So,” Hoseok shouts, almost making Namjoon drop his coffee in surprise as he stumbles into the entryway of their apartment. “Spill.” Hoseok has a pair of (hopefully clean) boxers in one hand and a toothbrush in the other, EXID’s Up and Down blaring through the speakers in the living room. Namjoon steps on the back of one heel with his other foot to get his shoes off, setting the half-empty café cup on top of the cubby in which they keep their shoes. Plunking his bag on the floor, too distressed to remember that his very expensive laptop is in it, he makes his way around the laundry basket to throw himself into a boneless heap on the couch.
“You aren’t talking. I want to know what happened so I can torture you about it.” Hoseok throws the boxers into the basket of clean, but not-yet-folded, laundry that is a semi-permanent feature of their living room. The volume of the music lowers with a few clicks of the remote on Namjoon’s part, and he straightens up until he’s almost sitting.
“Remember that party I went to last weekend?”
“Yeah. Damn, I wish I could have gone. Stupid fuckin’ essay. Anyway, keep going.”
Namjoon rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to continue, but the thud of the front door opening makes them both turn in surprise. And there, in their entryway, is Min Yoongi, face set in its usual grumpily disinterested expression and beanie pulled over his messy, silver, bangs.
“Yo,” he grunts by way of greeting, immediately walking into the kitchen. There’s the sound of the fridge opening and closing and he re-emerges, holding a convenience-store sausage in one hand and banana milk in the other. Yoongi settles himself on the couch near Namjoon and sucks at the straw in the banana milk carton. “‘Sup?”
Hoseok inhales deeply. “Hyung, can you explain to me why you, an adult with a real job and your own apartment, always come over here to mooch our food and sleep on our couch?
“You live close to my work. And Joon-ah buys good snacks.” Yoongi shrugs.He’s a production assistant at a television station that happens to be conveniently situated a five-minute bike ride away from the apartment that Namjoon and Hoseok share. His own apartment, Yoongi claims, feels like a prison cell. It’s largely unused and still filled with boxes from when Yoongi first moved in. Namjoon rolls his eyes. The “why-are-you-always-here-hyung” chat is a conversation that occurs on a practically bi-weekly basis. At this point, Namjoon just views Yoongi as their third roommate who only sleeps there sometimes and pays rent with booze and repairman skills.
Hoseok takes a breath, opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something, closes his mouth, puffs out his cheeks for a second, and exhales in a huff. “Whatever. Namjoon has something to entertain us with about his awkward life.”
“Nice. I could use a laugh.”
“You guys are great. Really great fuckin’ friends,” grumbles Namjoon sarcastically as he presses the heels of his hands over his closed eyes. “So. The party last weekend. I went home with someone. The great part is that this someone is my new assistant director, so I’ll get to see him every damn day. Awesome, right?”
Yoongi lets out a low whistle. Hoseok winces.
“Yikes. Well? How did it go, like, talking and stuff?” Hoseok sits on the coffee table facing Namjoon and stares him down.
“I, um, don’t think he remembers me. At least he didn’t act like he did. I mean, we were both drunk, I guess, and...whatever. I don’t know.”
“Well, that’s something, right? Just pretend you met for the first time today and coexist until the end of the year. As long as you don’t break down and confess all this to him you’ll be fine.” Yoongi crushes the milk carton flat between his palms.
Namjoon sighs. “Yeah. You’re right. This is fine. I can do this.” He stands up and totters unsteadily down the hall to his room. “We’re good. All good. Okay. I can…” he closes his bedroom door behind him.
“Shit,” he hears Hoseok say through the walls. “I really can’t let him go to parties without me. The giant dumbass always forgets to not do the stuff he knows he’ll regret later.”
The next day at work, to Namjoon’s endless relief, is much less awkward than the day before.
“Hello,” Seokjin greets him brightly, unwinding his scarf from around his neck as he walks towards his desk.
“Hey.” Namjoon looks up, nodding at him, before staring resolutely back at his computer screen. Namjoon had spent all night playing through scenario after scenario of his future working alongside Seokjin. If the older man ever finds out that Namjoon’s the guy he slept with, working together will be absolute hell. Namjoon’s developed at least fifty versions of the worst-case scenario in his head. At the very least, he can claim to be mentally prepared. All the preparation in the world, however, doesn’t stop him from breaking out into a cold sweat every time Seokjin asks him a question, or jumping at every noise the elder makes. He also finds himself watching the other man for strangely long periods of time, losing focus on his spreadsheet as his eyes follow the movement of Seokjin’s hands sorting files into stacks on the floor.
Namjoon’s phone trills loudly, and he jumps in his seat, sharply banging his knee on the bottom of the desk.
“Ow, fuck, ow…” he grits from between his teeth, clutching at his knee with one hand as he sees his ‘new message’ notification light up his phone.
“Namjoon-ssi? You okay?” Seokjin asks, mild concern written on his features and sharpie poised mid-air over a stack of post-it notes.
“‘M fine. Banged my knee” chokes Namjoon, aligning his face into a pained smile.He waits until the other man returns to his work to allow his grimace to fall into a dark scowl, and actually check the text message.
Yoongi-hyung 3:43 pm
Yo, you’re out of ramen. And beer. And milk.
Namjoon 3:44 pm
hoseok’s gonna kill you for eating all our food
Namjoon 3:44 pm
also, shouldn’t you be at work??
Yoongi-hyung 3:44 pm
Today’s script-searching day.
Boss said I could work from home.
Namjoon 3:44 pm
hoseok’s always tired when he gets home on wednesdays.
if you make a mess he’ll freak out unless you buy him food.
Namjoon locks his phone and inputs another row of data into the spreadsheet open on his laptop.
“Namjoon-ssi?”
He looks up to find Seokjin standing on the other side of the desk, warm eyes fixed on his own. Seeing that he’s gained the other’s attention, Seokjin continues.
“I’ve re-organized the files by academic subject and alphabetized them by individual names. What should I do next?” He has a smudge of sharpie on the back of his thumb, and the sleeves of his pink sweatshirt are pushed up above his elbows to reveal muscular forearms. Namjoon forgets to answer for a second before returning to reality.
Mentally slapping himself, I am not this weak. Forearms aren’t that fucking interesting, he runs through his laundry list of tasks to complete, hoping that Seokjin can help with some.
“Would you mind sending notification emails to people who we’ve just matched with tutors? Just provide the tutor’s contact information and hours of availability.” Namjoon tugs a stack of files out from under the open, face-down, economics textbook that has been residing on the desk for nearly two months. Accepting the small pile, Seokjin moves them to the other tiny desk, taking a moment to stretch his arms above his head and roll his shoulders, shaking off the couple of hours spent sitting on the hideously-carpeted floor.
Namjoon’s phone chimes again, making him tense. Why the fuck don’t I just leave it on vibrate? He grouses to himself as he silences the device and opens the new message.
Yoongi-hyung 3:48 pm
Do I have to feed both of you assholes?
With an amused sigh, Namjoon drops his phone into his bag, tugs his headphones over his ears, and tries to actually, finally, focus.
Namjoon comes home to hot pizza in the kitchen, a pile of scripts on the coffee table, and Yoongi and Hoseok watching a variety show while they eat on the couch. Glancing in his direction, Hoseok smiles by way of greeting as Namjoon tugs off his jacket and goes in search of a clean plate to use. He settles on the floor a moment later, stretching out one leg under the coffee table.
“Wasn’t as awkward today,” he comments as he starts in on his pizza. Yoongi hums lowly in response. The three boys watch a woman on the screen cheerfully advertise a plastic surgery clinic before the show resumes.
“What’s the name of your tragic one-night stand?” Hoseok questions pointedly as he reaches out to snag his glass from the table.
Namjoon feels instantly suspicious. “Kim Seokjin. Why?”
“I overheard a conversation today about someone who’d just started working at the Tutoring Center, but I wanted to make sure it was actually about your new friend before I told you all the juicy details.” A self-satisfied grin spreads across Hoseok’s face as he leans back on the couch. Yoongi turns to look at him with disdain. “Don’t give me that look, hyung. This is good stuff,” insists the lanky brunet.
Namjoon props and elbow on the coffee table and turns his attention to his roommate. “What, is he secretly an idol or some shit?” Namjoon’s mouth briefly lifts into a slightly-nervous smile. He’s more curious about Seokjin than he would have expected, but he’s my first co-worker in years. Taking an interest’s normal. Completely normal. Yep. Not because he’s hot. Not at all.
Hoseok’s face shifts into an unreadable expression for a moment so brief that Namjoon’s not sure it was there at all, before his grin reappears, and he begins. “So here’s what I know. He used to have a youtube channel where he just posted videos of himself eating, he works out almost every day, he’s kind of famous on campus for being both hot and supremely unavailable, and he’s apparently a serial one nighter.”
Namjoon tries to process this. None of this information seems to match up with the soft-spoken, friendly, hard-working guy he’s spent the past couple of days working with. He feels like he’s putting together a puzzle but only has a handful of edge pieces, the picture unclear. It never matters much to him what most people are actually like, but it’s irritating if he can’t really figure them out.
It appears that there’s more.
“Wait, there’s more,” Hoseok leans forward, energy thrumming in his voice, “That’s not even the juicy part.”
Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Oh good. There’s more.”
“Shut up,” hisses the boy in the process of relaying gossip. “Okay, so, the juicy part is actually about you, Namjoon.”
“Wait, what?” Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow into an expression of bewilderment.
Lowering his voice as if they might be overheard (By what? Dust bunnies?), Hoseok continues. “Apparently Kim Seokjin has known of you for a while.” He emphasizes his words by pointing at the tall, bleached-blond man sprawled on the floor. “You, my friend, have quite a reputation.”
“Why do I have a fucking reputation!? ”