Chapter Text
Pat was bored, feeling mischievous, and holding a fully charged phone. It was a dangerous combination.
The DMD dance studio was loud, echoing with the sound of music and sneakers squeaking against the hardwood floor. They had been rehearsing for the upcoming fan meeting for three hours, and during their ten minute break, half the boys had collapsed onto the floor. Pat, however, was sitting in front of the massive wall of mirrors, feeling entirely too energetic. He glanced across the room. Ryu was leaning against the far wall, drinking from a water bottle, his dark hair damp with sweat and pushed back from his forehead. He looked unfairly good. He also looked entirely too calm. Pat decided he needed to fix that.
"Fifa," Pat called out sweetly.
Fifa, who was innocently stretching his hamstrings nearby, looked up with immediate suspicion. "Whatever you're planning, no."
"I just want a photo," Pat pouted, turning on his front camera and scooting backward until he was practically sitting in Fifa’s lap. "Come on, for the fans. They miss us."
Fifa sighed, knowing he couldn't escape, and obligingly leaned in. He threw an arm around Pat’s shoulders, flashing a peace sign. Pat leaned his head back against Fifa’s shoulder, giving the camera his best soft, pretty smile. He snapped a few pictures, carefully selecting the one where they looked the most disgustingly domestic. He opened X, his fingers flying across the screen with wicked intent.
Who needs a seme when you have Fifa to lean on? 😌🤍
He pressed post. Then, he locked his phone and waited. It didn't take long.
Across the room, Ryu pulled his phone out of his pocket. Pat watched from the corner of his eye as Ryu’s thumb scrolled, stopped, and then hovered. Ryu stared at the screen. Then, very slowly, Ryu lowered the phone and looked directly at Pat.
Pat offered him a bright, entirely innocent smile. Ryu did not smile back.
Why Fifa? Ryu thought, a familiar, hot flare of possessiveness rising in his chest. If he wanted to post a cute photo with a friend, Wave was sitting right there. If he wanted attention, I am literally in the same room. Why does he always pick Fifa? Ryu narrowed his eyes. He knew exactly what Pat was doing. Pat was ragebaiting him. The little brat knew exactly which buttons to push to make the fans scream and to make Ryu's jaw clench. Pat wanted to see if Ryu would react.
Fine, Ryu thought, tossing his water bottle aside. Let's play.
The moment Ryu pushed himself off the wall, the entire room sensed the shift in the atmosphere. Ohm, who was lying flat on his back, propped himself up on his elbows. "Oh," Ohm whispered to Kim. "The dragon is awake. Someone prepare a funeral for Fifa."
Ryu walked across the studio floor, his strides long, purposeful, and entirely too confident. Pat’s smug little smile faltered just a fraction as Ryu approached, but he held his ground, tilting his chin up stubbornly.
Ryu stopped right in front of them, looking down with a dark, heavy gaze. "Fifa," Ryu said smoothly. "P'Aof is looking for you in the hallway. Said it was urgent."
Fifa didn't even question it. He scrambled to his feet so fast he nearly tripped over his own sneakers. "I am leaving. Goodbye. I was forced into that photo against my will." Fifa sprinted out of the studio without looking back.
Pat laughed, though it sounded a tiny bit breathless. "You scared him away. You're so mean, P'Ryu."
"I didn't do anything," Ryu murmured. He stepped closer, crowding Pat against the mirror. The playful, casual energy of the room faded the second Ryu boxed him in, placing one hand flat against the glass right beside Pat’s head. "You're the one playing games."
Pat looked up through his eyelashes, slipping perfectly into his naughty uke persona. He let his knees bump lightly against Ryu’s. "I don't know what you're talking about. I was just taking a picture with my favorite dance partner."
"Favorite?" Ryu’s voice dropped an octave, rough and incredibly warm. He leaned in, his chest brushing against Pat’s. "Is that right?"
Pat swallowed, his heart doing a frantic little dance, but he refused to back down. He reached up, his fingers lightly tracing the hem of Ryu’s loose rehearsal shirt. "Yes. Fifa is very comfortable. A much better pillow than you."
"A better pillow." Ryu chuckled, the sound vibrating right through Pat’s chest. Ryu didn't get angry; he just got flirty. Dangerously flirty. He reached down, his large hands settling firmly on Pat's waist, his thumbs pressing against the sliver of bare skin where Pat’s shirt had ridden up. Pat gasped softly at the touch. "You didn't seem to think so last night when you fell asleep on my shoulder in the van."
"That was an accident," Pat lied, his face heating up.
"Was it?" Ryu’s thumbs stroked slow, deliberate circles against Pat's waist, sending sparks of electricity straight down his spine. "You're trying very hard to make me jealous today, Nong Pat."
"I'm not trying to do anything," Pat shot back, though his voice lacked its usual bite. "I can post whoever I want. You don't own my social media."
"I don't," Ryu agreed easily, his eyes dropping to Pat's lips. "But I do know how to get your attention back where it belongs."
Before Pat could ask what that meant, Ryu pulled his own phone from his pocket. He spun Pat around effortlessly by the waist until Pat’s back was pressed flush against the mirror. Ryu stepped in right behind him, caging him against the glass. Ryu wrapped one arm securely around Pat's waist, pulling him back against his chest. He rested his chin heavily on Pat's shoulder, his face pressed right against Pat's cheek.
Pat's breath hitched as he stared at their reflection. They looked ridiculously intimate. Ryu's dark eyes were locked on Pat's through the mirror, heavy with lidded, flirty intent.
"Smile for the camera, baby," Ryu whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of Pat's ear.
Pat shivered, completely losing his bratty composure. He managed a flustered, wide eyed expression just as Ryu snapped the photo in the mirror. Ryu didn't let go of him immediately. He kept Pat pinned, typing out a caption with one hand while his other arm kept Pat securely exactly where he wanted him. Ryu pressed post and finally took a step back, slipping his phone into his pocket with a deeply satisfied smirk.
"Check your phone," Ryu murmured, reaching out to gently flick Pat's burning forehead. "Your break is almost over."
Ryu turned and casually walked back to the center of the room, leaving Pat slumped against the mirror, his heart hammering against his ribs. Across the studio, Ohm was already cackling loudly at his screen. Pat scrambled for his phone, opening the app with trembling fingers.
Ryu had posted the mirror selfie. It was devastating. Pat looked completely flustered and small against the glass, while Ryu looked like a man who knew exactly what belonged to him, his arms wrapped tightly around Pat's waist, staring into the camera with a dark, triumphant smirk.
The caption was short, simple, and a direct kill shot to Pat's ragebaiting attempt.
@ryujin: The pillow he actually prefers.
The fans were already tearing the internet apart.
@ryupatdaily: PAT TRIED TO PLAY AND RYU ENDED THE GAME IMMEDIATELY.
@dmdchaos: Ryu really said "Fifa who?"
@softpat: Look at Pat's face in the mirror oh my god he short-circuited.
Pat buried his red face in his hands, groaning out loud. He had tried to be a naughty uke. He had tried to win. But as he peeked through his fingers and saw Ryu winking at him from across the studio, Pat realized a very important lesson: you do not ragebait a seme who knows exactly how to flirt back.