Don't ever become normal
Title: Don't ever become normal (oneshot)
Author: anoukinparis
Pairing: Joomi (hints of Seungho/G.O)
Genre: Crack/Romance/Mir-seduction
Rating: PG-13
Summary: There's some drinking. There's some kissing. There's some other weird shit.
A/N: wouldbetheend , this joomi is for you, in all their ridiculous glory~
Cherries.
Joon can't stop thinking about cherries and just how red they are. And really close. Like, bobbing in front of his face and dancing close. They're actually a good five feet away and attached quite securely to Cheondong's pajamas but hell if he knows the difference. Hell if he can spell the word cherry. Fuck fruit.
Mir keeps clawing at the armrest of the couch, claiming he's digging for buried treasure of something of the sort, and finds Joon's foot instead. He stares at it, holds it in his hands like a relic.
“This is beautiful. What a fine thing this is.”
Then, in a sudden fit of passion, he hoists Joon's foot up for the rest of the room to see, crying out something to Seungho that makes him fall into hysterics across G.O's lap, his laughter just as intoxicating as - well, maybe Joon should back this up first.
In all honestly, he hadn't meant for things to get out of control. Just like he hadn't meant for Mir to discover his stash of beer shoved underneath a truly horrid stack of dirty clothes, who then proceeded to blab to Cheondong, who of course couldn't keep a damn thing from G.O, who dutifully filled Seungho in, who then gave a very serious talking to him.
Not about the alcohol. Just about the questionable state their room was in because of those dirty clothes. Joon had shoved them in the washer by the armful until Seungho was good and satisfied. So they opened some bottles in celebration. Harmless, really.
Actually, they hadn't even crossed the threshold of shitfaced drunk until that sneaky bitch found some more while raiding his stuff. Vodka. Cheondong wouldn't stop repeating the word until they opened it, which came about ten seconds after he started.
No, wait. Then there was that one incident with Mir chasing G.O around the flat with a razor blade and Seungho nearly having a mental breakdown, begging the youngest to take mercy on the facial hair. Yeah. That's when things started to get weird.
Joon wants to laugh, thinking about it now. Then he remembers that Mir is still holding onto his foot. Not that he exactly minds. No one has ever called any part of his body beautiful before, and it's kinda flattering, in a disturbing way.
Mir crawls up closer on the couch, and if Joon had to make the call, he'd say that Mir's hair is pretty beautiful. It looks soft enough to make him appear almost angelic. And his nose. Those are the first things that come to mind.
But Mir isn't an angel. Joon knows first hand that he's a very pesky human being, one who keeps climbing his way along Joon's body until he's straddling his hips - Joon's envious of the coordination, but at least the cherries have finally stopped giving him a headache. Cheondong says something about going to get the mail. It's midnight.
“Hey.”
Mir's voice sounds more like an open invitation than a yo, how's the couch treating you.
“Fuck. Your hair's red too.”
“What?”
“I didn't say anything.”
The alcohol tastes sharp and sweet on Mir's breath, and Joon inhales it all. Maybe he should feel guilty about the fact that he's helped a teenager get trashed. He doesn't, not in the least. He's just comfortable. And very toasty now that Mir's on top of him. Maybe he should be concerned about that too.
Mir rocks himself forward, grinning. “I found your foot,” he whispers wickedly.
“Thank God you did,” Joon nods in time with the way Mir's swaying on top of him, before his hands raise jerkily to the other's back, unsure if Mir's dizzy. Or if it's just him. Or if Mir is gonna fall. He's already witnessed Seungho collapsing about five seconds ago on the floor. More unrestrained laughter, G.O's throaty chuckles adding another layer, and it all sounds very far away from the couch.
Joon doesn't even realize his head is starting to lean back until Mir's pulling him upright, one palm clasped to his neck while the other hovers lightly on his cheekbone. “I found it,” he repeats, eyes bright.
His nose is so close and looks so delicious that Joon suddenly wants to kiss it. So he puckers up his lips and brushes the very tip. He has the urge to kiss more of Mir. He gives an order instead.
“Don't ever become normal. I like you how you are.”
Mir hasn't looked so happy since wielding the razor.
When Cheondong comes back he has a bag of donuts under his arm, one already stuffed in his mouth as he walks back into the living room. He announces dejectedly the bad news about the mail. Joon probably would have questioned him about the existence of the junk food and how he had even paid for it had Seungho and G.O not been caught up in a pretzel on the floor, scream-singing the lyrics to some song he's never heard of and generally making him respect them less and less.
Mir flits off somewhere and returns with a bounce on top of his legs, suddenly the proud thief of one of those donuts. “I'm a growing boy,” is all he says as explanation, settling back into a comfortable position. Joon's touch spreads fondly along the other's thighs, half staring and half daydreaming about magical donut castles with Mir as the prince.
Again, Joon didn't mean for things to get out of control. He wants to reiterate that fact. But when he tries to kiss Mir's nose again the path somehow screws up, and his tongue aims for the spot of icing stuck to Mir's lips instead, which then prompts the flame-haired prince to toss back his donut in another fit of passion, which somehow lands all over Seungho's hair, which somehow gives the night its second mental breakdown.
And then Joon realizes the cherries were actually strawberries this whole time.
He doesn't even remember passing out. He definitely doesn't remember how a few sprinkles got into his mouth or how Mir landed face down on his stomach, half of his body dangling from the couch, or why G.O has hearts drawn sloppily around his mustache. He doesn't remember what the hell happened at all last night.
Joon blinks until he feels something very thick and painful inside of his head, and he sinks back into the cushions with a groan. The rumbling sound reaches Mir's ears and makes him rub his face into Joon's shirt groggily, but he doesn't move more than that. Now that Joon's conscious of just where his face is, Joon shifts around, sweeping Mir forward until his head drops against his chest instead. Slightly more socially acceptable.
Mir still rubs his face against the shirt. “You keep taking advantage of me,” he mumbles.
“I currently have sprinkles in my mouth and you probably had a part in that. You don't have room to complain,” Joon mumbles back.
“You attacked me.”
“Like this?” Joon's arms crush the youngest even tighter to his chest, smiling despite the hammer to his temple, laughing when Mir shouts his name like a curse, before finally falling into a shocked sort of silence when Mir deftly manages to squirm out of his hold. He arches his neck to peck Joon's nose lightly.
“Nope.” The word is simple and sweet and it's coupled with a devilish smirk. “But it's probably better that you're bad at remembering things. I like you how you are.”
And with that, Mir slides himself off of that warm body and begins hunting down the rest of the donuts, positively famished after a night like that. He leaves a speechless, owl-eyed Joon in his wake, trying hard to work out the meaning of those words, to remember anything, only to come up with the image of fruit. And Seungho's tears.
The fuck.
Author: anoukinparis
Pairing: Joomi (hints of Seungho/G.O)
Genre: Crack/Romance/Mir-seduction
Rating: PG-13
Summary: There's some drinking. There's some kissing. There's some other weird shit.
A/N: wouldbetheend , this joomi is for you, in all their ridiculous glory~
Cherries.
Joon can't stop thinking about cherries and just how red they are. And really close. Like, bobbing in front of his face and dancing close. They're actually a good five feet away and attached quite securely to Cheondong's pajamas but hell if he knows the difference. Hell if he can spell the word cherry. Fuck fruit.
Mir keeps clawing at the armrest of the couch, claiming he's digging for buried treasure of something of the sort, and finds Joon's foot instead. He stares at it, holds it in his hands like a relic.
“This is beautiful. What a fine thing this is.”
Then, in a sudden fit of passion, he hoists Joon's foot up for the rest of the room to see, crying out something to Seungho that makes him fall into hysterics across G.O's lap, his laughter just as intoxicating as - well, maybe Joon should back this up first.
In all honestly, he hadn't meant for things to get out of control. Just like he hadn't meant for Mir to discover his stash of beer shoved underneath a truly horrid stack of dirty clothes, who then proceeded to blab to Cheondong, who of course couldn't keep a damn thing from G.O, who dutifully filled Seungho in, who then gave a very serious talking to him.
Not about the alcohol. Just about the questionable state their room was in because of those dirty clothes. Joon had shoved them in the washer by the armful until Seungho was good and satisfied. So they opened some bottles in celebration. Harmless, really.
Actually, they hadn't even crossed the threshold of shitfaced drunk until that sneaky bitch found some more while raiding his stuff. Vodka. Cheondong wouldn't stop repeating the word until they opened it, which came about ten seconds after he started.
No, wait. Then there was that one incident with Mir chasing G.O around the flat with a razor blade and Seungho nearly having a mental breakdown, begging the youngest to take mercy on the facial hair. Yeah. That's when things started to get weird.
Joon wants to laugh, thinking about it now. Then he remembers that Mir is still holding onto his foot. Not that he exactly minds. No one has ever called any part of his body beautiful before, and it's kinda flattering, in a disturbing way.
Mir crawls up closer on the couch, and if Joon had to make the call, he'd say that Mir's hair is pretty beautiful. It looks soft enough to make him appear almost angelic. And his nose. Those are the first things that come to mind.
But Mir isn't an angel. Joon knows first hand that he's a very pesky human being, one who keeps climbing his way along Joon's body until he's straddling his hips - Joon's envious of the coordination, but at least the cherries have finally stopped giving him a headache. Cheondong says something about going to get the mail. It's midnight.
“Hey.”
Mir's voice sounds more like an open invitation than a yo, how's the couch treating you.
“Fuck. Your hair's red too.”
“What?”
“I didn't say anything.”
The alcohol tastes sharp and sweet on Mir's breath, and Joon inhales it all. Maybe he should feel guilty about the fact that he's helped a teenager get trashed. He doesn't, not in the least. He's just comfortable. And very toasty now that Mir's on top of him. Maybe he should be concerned about that too.
Mir rocks himself forward, grinning. “I found your foot,” he whispers wickedly.
“Thank God you did,” Joon nods in time with the way Mir's swaying on top of him, before his hands raise jerkily to the other's back, unsure if Mir's dizzy. Or if it's just him. Or if Mir is gonna fall. He's already witnessed Seungho collapsing about five seconds ago on the floor. More unrestrained laughter, G.O's throaty chuckles adding another layer, and it all sounds very far away from the couch.
Joon doesn't even realize his head is starting to lean back until Mir's pulling him upright, one palm clasped to his neck while the other hovers lightly on his cheekbone. “I found it,” he repeats, eyes bright.
His nose is so close and looks so delicious that Joon suddenly wants to kiss it. So he puckers up his lips and brushes the very tip. He has the urge to kiss more of Mir. He gives an order instead.
“Don't ever become normal. I like you how you are.”
Mir hasn't looked so happy since wielding the razor.
When Cheondong comes back he has a bag of donuts under his arm, one already stuffed in his mouth as he walks back into the living room. He announces dejectedly the bad news about the mail. Joon probably would have questioned him about the existence of the junk food and how he had even paid for it had Seungho and G.O not been caught up in a pretzel on the floor, scream-singing the lyrics to some song he's never heard of and generally making him respect them less and less.
Mir flits off somewhere and returns with a bounce on top of his legs, suddenly the proud thief of one of those donuts. “I'm a growing boy,” is all he says as explanation, settling back into a comfortable position. Joon's touch spreads fondly along the other's thighs, half staring and half daydreaming about magical donut castles with Mir as the prince.
Again, Joon didn't mean for things to get out of control. He wants to reiterate that fact. But when he tries to kiss Mir's nose again the path somehow screws up, and his tongue aims for the spot of icing stuck to Mir's lips instead, which then prompts the flame-haired prince to toss back his donut in another fit of passion, which somehow lands all over Seungho's hair, which somehow gives the night its second mental breakdown.
And then Joon realizes the cherries were actually strawberries this whole time.
He doesn't even remember passing out. He definitely doesn't remember how a few sprinkles got into his mouth or how Mir landed face down on his stomach, half of his body dangling from the couch, or why G.O has hearts drawn sloppily around his mustache. He doesn't remember what the hell happened at all last night.
Joon blinks until he feels something very thick and painful inside of his head, and he sinks back into the cushions with a groan. The rumbling sound reaches Mir's ears and makes him rub his face into Joon's shirt groggily, but he doesn't move more than that. Now that Joon's conscious of just where his face is, Joon shifts around, sweeping Mir forward until his head drops against his chest instead. Slightly more socially acceptable.
Mir still rubs his face against the shirt. “You keep taking advantage of me,” he mumbles.
“I currently have sprinkles in my mouth and you probably had a part in that. You don't have room to complain,” Joon mumbles back.
“You attacked me.”
“Like this?” Joon's arms crush the youngest even tighter to his chest, smiling despite the hammer to his temple, laughing when Mir shouts his name like a curse, before finally falling into a shocked sort of silence when Mir deftly manages to squirm out of his hold. He arches his neck to peck Joon's nose lightly.
“Nope.” The word is simple and sweet and it's coupled with a devilish smirk. “But it's probably better that you're bad at remembering things. I like you how you are.”
And with that, Mir slides himself off of that warm body and begins hunting down the rest of the donuts, positively famished after a night like that. He leaves a speechless, owl-eyed Joon in his wake, trying hard to work out the meaning of those words, to remember anything, only to come up with the image of fruit. And Seungho's tears.
The fuck.