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"Don’t you want to be good for hyung?"
Seokjin almost doesn’t notice it: the way Jungkook’s big eyes grow wider for a split second, the subtle shift of his mouth. But it’s impossible not to notice the way Jungkook’s grip on Seokjin’s hand loosens. Just for a moment–-not even half a breath. Jin reacts on instinct, without thinking, slamming Jungkook’s hand down beneath his in an explosion of speed. He didn’t major in Halli Galli for nothing.
It's only afterwards that he realizes what Jungkook's expression means. That Jungkook--Jungkook with the tattoos and the muscles and the motorcycle--Jungkook is maybe not interested in pinning Seokjin to the stacked washer/dryer, like Seokjin has thought about, guiltily, once or twice. That maybe, Jungkook--Jungkook with the puppy dog eyes and the endless politeness and the obedience--is more interested in the being pinned.
And if that's true, well.
Seokjin is fucked.
Or, actually, the other way around.
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