Beast/B2st: orbit you like a moon
title: orbit you like a moon
fandom: Beast/B2st
rating/pairing: pg13 for swearing, Doojoon/Yoseob
summary: For the entirety of the first three months Doojoon and Yoseob knew each other, Doojoon referred to him in his head as 'the little shit who hangs with Gikwang.' 3 Doojoon/Yoseob moments.
Read at AO3
For the entirety of the first three months Doojoon and Yoseob knew each other, Doojoon referred to him in his head as the little shit who hangs with Gikwang. Beast forms and they start to get on, a little, close enough to tease and talk less formally, and Yoseob gets upgraded to that little shit, and then Yoseob-sshi and Yoseob and then finally Yoseobie, Soebie, Yoseob-ah.
//
“Okay,” the manager says, and starts handing Doojoon folded paper pamphlets. “Management wants you to study these to become a more effective leader.” Doojoon shoves five into a side pocket and opens one. Conflict Resolution, it says in bright block letters, and a smiling man in a mediocre suit beams at him from the center.
Doojoon stares at it. “Okay,” he says, and goes to put it away. His manager snatches it from his pocket and pushes it back in his hands.
“This is serious.” he says. “I want see evidence you’re taking it seriously.” He gives Doojoon the evil eye and wanders off.
Doojoon looks mournfully down at the crumpled paper in his fist. “Is it too late for Junhyung to be leader?”
“Yes,” Hyunseung says decisively from where he’s sitting against the wall fucking around on his phone.
//
“He ate my food,” Gikwang says, furious, and points an accusing finger at Dongwoon, who’s doing a poor job of hiding behind a chair. “He knew it was mine and he ate it anyway. My mother made me that.”
“I didn’t know that,” Dongwoon protests.
Gikwang draws himself up in a small but utterly righteous moment of fury. “Liar.”
“No one cares,” Yoseob says. Their manager pokes their head through the doorway.
“Are you guys ready to go?”
Gikwang turns to Doojoon. “Hyung!”
“Uh,” Doojoon says.
“I’ll buy you food,” Dongwoon says, still half crouched on the floor. Gikwang considers him. “A lot of food,” Dongwoon offers.
“Okay,” Gikwang decides and leaves to find his shoes.
“Ha!” Doojoon says triumphantly, pointing at Dongwoon straightening up and patting at his hair. “Conflict resolved!”
“You didn’t do anything,” Junhyung says.
“Yeah,” Yoseob chimes in, leaning against the wall and grinning. “you shouldn’t claim that one as conflict resolution.”
“I have an extra pamphlet,” Hyunseung says helpfully, “if you want to review.”
“How about this,” Doojoon says, “no in-band fighting or I’ll kill you. There, I just resolved all of our conflicts ever.”
“Whatever,” Yoseob says, and throws a shoe at Doojoon’s face.
//
“Hyung,” Yoseob says in a whisper-shout, “hyung, hyung, hyyyyuuunnnggggggggg hyyyyyyyyyyyuuuuuuuuuuuuunnnnnggggggggggggggg. Hyung!”
Doojoon erupts from his bed, tripping as his feet get caught in the duvet, eyes half lidded and hands twisted into claws. “I’m going to fucking kill you,” he shouts. His knees bang on the side of the bunkframe and he curses, throwing the tangled sheets aside. He catches Yoseob by the collar of his shirt and yanks him back.
“Ah,” Yoseob squeaks, “ah hyung, don’t--” he pitches backwards, flailing, and his elbow knocks the breath from Doojoon’s stomach as they fall onto one of the lower bunks. “Ow,” Yoseob pouts, and Doojoon groans, rolling onto his stomach with his feet hanging off the bed.
“Go away,” Dongwoon slurs, and kicks at them.
“Why,” Doojoon says to the world in general, desolate, his voice muffled by the mattress, “why are you doing this to me. Haven’t I been a good hyung?”
“No,” Gikwang says in the background.
“You just threatened to kill me,” Yoseob points out.
“You deserved it,” Doojoon says, and Yoseob crawls to lie on his back. “Ugh, get off. What did you even want?”
“I don’t remember,” Yoseob says. “Do you want ramen?”
“I hate you,” Doojoon, says, “I hate every little thing about you.”
Yoseob clambers off him, throwing a knee into his spine in a manner that can’t be anything but deliberate. “Don’t lie.”
Doojoon leans on the counter, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and checks the time on the microwave. “Aish,” he mutters, and punches Yoseob half-heartedly in the bicep. “We have to leave in like three hours.”
“Mm,” Yoseob says, dipping chopsticks into bubbling water and moving the noodles in an infinity pattern.
Doojoon opens the freezer to stick his head in and almost spears his eyes with a pair of chopsticks stuck in the door. He sniffs them and shrugs, reaches for bowls. “There’s only one,” he says, waving it. “We can eat out of the pot or share, whatever works for you.”
“What if the album tanks?” Yoseob asks abruptly. His chopsticks move faster in the bowl, and water sloshes up and over the lid, hisses and steams on the coil of the stove. “Junhyung’s producing for the first time and he’s worried, I can tell.” Doojoon frowns, taps his fingernails against the rim of the bowl. Yoseob takes a stuttering breath so deep Doojoon hears his ribs creak. Doojoon bites his lip, taps his fingernails against the laminate of the counter.
“Don’t stir so hard,” he says finally. “you’ll burn yourself.” Yoseob’s hand slows, and Doojoon watches the clock turn over one minute, then another. Grey light starts to creep through the windows and roll across the floor. “You’re pretaping on Music Bank, right? I’ll come with you.” He pokes Yoseob in the ribs with the blunted edge of a chopstick. “Yah, don’t overcook it.”
Yoseob half sings something that sounds vaguely familiar, and walks to the low table in the other room. He crosses his legs and pushes the pot to the center of the table. “Hurry up,” he says, and smiles. Doojoon settles next to him and bumps their shoulders together, tickles his fingers under Yoseob’s chin.
//
fandom: Beast/B2st
rating/pairing: pg13 for swearing, Doojoon/Yoseob
summary: For the entirety of the first three months Doojoon and Yoseob knew each other, Doojoon referred to him in his head as 'the little shit who hangs with Gikwang.' 3 Doojoon/Yoseob moments.
Read at AO3
For the entirety of the first three months Doojoon and Yoseob knew each other, Doojoon referred to him in his head as the little shit who hangs with Gikwang. Beast forms and they start to get on, a little, close enough to tease and talk less formally, and Yoseob gets upgraded to that little shit, and then Yoseob-sshi and Yoseob and then finally Yoseobie, Soebie, Yoseob-ah.
//
“Okay,” the manager says, and starts handing Doojoon folded paper pamphlets. “Management wants you to study these to become a more effective leader.” Doojoon shoves five into a side pocket and opens one. Conflict Resolution, it says in bright block letters, and a smiling man in a mediocre suit beams at him from the center.
Doojoon stares at it. “Okay,” he says, and goes to put it away. His manager snatches it from his pocket and pushes it back in his hands.
“This is serious.” he says. “I want see evidence you’re taking it seriously.” He gives Doojoon the evil eye and wanders off.
Doojoon looks mournfully down at the crumpled paper in his fist. “Is it too late for Junhyung to be leader?”
“Yes,” Hyunseung says decisively from where he’s sitting against the wall fucking around on his phone.
//
“He ate my food,” Gikwang says, furious, and points an accusing finger at Dongwoon, who’s doing a poor job of hiding behind a chair. “He knew it was mine and he ate it anyway. My mother made me that.”
“I didn’t know that,” Dongwoon protests.
Gikwang draws himself up in a small but utterly righteous moment of fury. “Liar.”
“No one cares,” Yoseob says. Their manager pokes their head through the doorway.
“Are you guys ready to go?”
Gikwang turns to Doojoon. “Hyung!”
“Uh,” Doojoon says.
“I’ll buy you food,” Dongwoon says, still half crouched on the floor. Gikwang considers him. “A lot of food,” Dongwoon offers.
“Okay,” Gikwang decides and leaves to find his shoes.
“Ha!” Doojoon says triumphantly, pointing at Dongwoon straightening up and patting at his hair. “Conflict resolved!”
“You didn’t do anything,” Junhyung says.
“Yeah,” Yoseob chimes in, leaning against the wall and grinning. “you shouldn’t claim that one as conflict resolution.”
“I have an extra pamphlet,” Hyunseung says helpfully, “if you want to review.”
“How about this,” Doojoon says, “no in-band fighting or I’ll kill you. There, I just resolved all of our conflicts ever.”
“Whatever,” Yoseob says, and throws a shoe at Doojoon’s face.
//
“Hyung,” Yoseob says in a whisper-shout, “hyung, hyung, hyyyyuuunnnggggggggg hyyyyyyyyyyyuuuuuuuuuuuuunnnnnggggggggggggggg. Hyung!”
Doojoon erupts from his bed, tripping as his feet get caught in the duvet, eyes half lidded and hands twisted into claws. “I’m going to fucking kill you,” he shouts. His knees bang on the side of the bunkframe and he curses, throwing the tangled sheets aside. He catches Yoseob by the collar of his shirt and yanks him back.
“Ah,” Yoseob squeaks, “ah hyung, don’t--” he pitches backwards, flailing, and his elbow knocks the breath from Doojoon’s stomach as they fall onto one of the lower bunks. “Ow,” Yoseob pouts, and Doojoon groans, rolling onto his stomach with his feet hanging off the bed.
“Go away,” Dongwoon slurs, and kicks at them.
“Why,” Doojoon says to the world in general, desolate, his voice muffled by the mattress, “why are you doing this to me. Haven’t I been a good hyung?”
“No,” Gikwang says in the background.
“You just threatened to kill me,” Yoseob points out.
“You deserved it,” Doojoon says, and Yoseob crawls to lie on his back. “Ugh, get off. What did you even want?”
“I don’t remember,” Yoseob says. “Do you want ramen?”
“I hate you,” Doojoon, says, “I hate every little thing about you.”
Yoseob clambers off him, throwing a knee into his spine in a manner that can’t be anything but deliberate. “Don’t lie.”
Doojoon leans on the counter, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and checks the time on the microwave. “Aish,” he mutters, and punches Yoseob half-heartedly in the bicep. “We have to leave in like three hours.”
“Mm,” Yoseob says, dipping chopsticks into bubbling water and moving the noodles in an infinity pattern.
Doojoon opens the freezer to stick his head in and almost spears his eyes with a pair of chopsticks stuck in the door. He sniffs them and shrugs, reaches for bowls. “There’s only one,” he says, waving it. “We can eat out of the pot or share, whatever works for you.”
“What if the album tanks?” Yoseob asks abruptly. His chopsticks move faster in the bowl, and water sloshes up and over the lid, hisses and steams on the coil of the stove. “Junhyung’s producing for the first time and he’s worried, I can tell.” Doojoon frowns, taps his fingernails against the rim of the bowl. Yoseob takes a stuttering breath so deep Doojoon hears his ribs creak. Doojoon bites his lip, taps his fingernails against the laminate of the counter.
“Don’t stir so hard,” he says finally. “you’ll burn yourself.” Yoseob’s hand slows, and Doojoon watches the clock turn over one minute, then another. Grey light starts to creep through the windows and roll across the floor. “You’re pretaping on Music Bank, right? I’ll come with you.” He pokes Yoseob in the ribs with the blunted edge of a chopstick. “Yah, don’t overcook it.”
Yoseob half sings something that sounds vaguely familiar, and walks to the low table in the other room. He crosses his legs and pushes the pot to the center of the table. “Hurry up,” he says, and smiles. Doojoon settles next to him and bumps their shoulders together, tickles his fingers under Yoseob’s chin.
//