[oneshot] when in rome
Title: when in rome
Pairing: gd/top
Rating: nc17
Genre: slice-of-life
Warnings: swearing, sex
Author: gdgdbaby
Notes: advent calendar day 1, for snoaz. five times jiyong and seunghyun were abroad and almost hooked up, and one time they really did. 1,970 words.
1. "Let me see it."
Jiyong shrugs him off and flops on the bed, stomach first. "Not yet. I can't take the bandage off for like, a day."
Seunghyun's quiet for a minute. Then: "I bet you're just embarrassed."
Jiyong whips his head around. "Of what?"
"Your new tattoo," he replies, and he's grinning and Jiyong's grinding his teeth because it's working, god damn it. "What, does it say Wu-Tang Clan saranghae?"
"Fuck you," Jiyong mutters. "Like you wouldn't get a portrait of Biggie Smalls tattooed across your ass."
"Yeah," Seunghyun agrees calmly, "but I wouldn't be embarrassed by it."
Jiyong snorts. "Wait a couple hours. Don't fall asleep on me, old man."
It's half past two when he finally drags himself to the tiny bathroom, shedding his shirt as he goes. "You got three?" Seunghyun murmurs, crowding in behind him. He drags his phone out. "Wait, let me tell-"
And then Youngbae's poking his head into their room, gummy-eyed and curious. Jiyong sits at the edge of the tub and lets warm water run against his shoulder, the insides of his elbows, waits for the gauze to soak. His skin glistens as he peels it off. He can barely see the last words of the curling script when he turns to gaze down at it.
Youngbae reads it out loud. "The Eagles?" Seunghyun asks, and Jiyong ducks his head and nods. Okay, yeah. Maybe he is kind of embarrassed, but only because they're staring at him so intently. He busies himself with the rest of aftercare, pats the red skin with a tissue and waits for it to dry.
"Cool," Youngbae says at last. He claps Jiyong carefully on the arm and rubs at the stubble growing in along his jaw. "I'm going back to sleep."
Jiyong waves. Reaches a hand out further, and it takes Seunghyun a minute to realize he's gesturing at the tub of Bacitracin that Carey had given him. He watches Jiyong apply it gently to the crooks of his elbows. "Need help?" he asks, as Jiyong twists around to stare at the calligraphic to die on his bicep.
"Sure," Jiyong says. "Not too much." He swivels on the edge of the tub and tucks his legs into it. Seunghyun slides onto the closed toilet cover and takes the ointment from him, spreads a little on his fingers, and goes to work.
"Does it hurt?"
"Nah." It stings like a motherfucker, but Seunghyun's fingers brush against his shoulder blade, warm and soft, and it's easier to focus on that.
There's a moment as they move into the bedroom again, when Jiyong catches Seunghyun staring at the back of his neck, trailing across the sweep of his shoulders. He's too tired to do anything more than collapse on the bed, face buried in his pillow. Long flight tomorrow. Excessive sweat would be bad for the tattoo, anyway.
2. They're at some late night teriyaki place after the last Electric Love stop. Jiyong can feel the grease in the air congealing like a second layer of thick make-up on his face. He takes a long sip of his soup, chews the tofu twice before swallowing, his molars stinging. Seungri's inhaling complementary seaweed salad to his left, and Seunghyun looks like he's about to fall asleep through the steam rising over their meat.
Post-tour meals are always like this. The exhaustion's just about to catch up with them, but the adrenaline from the stage hasn't quite worn off yet-and it's still a little too early to talk about what they did right and wrong, what to change for next time. All that's left on the night of the last concert is a fleeting feeling of satisfaction flitting about in his chest, and a desire to rest, even if only for a while.
Jiyong eats on autopilot. Laughs when Daesung says something about his last filming for Family Outing, and when Seunghyun spills sake all down his front. The smell follows them all the way back to the hotel, and-predictable, so predictable-Jiyong draws the short straw and has to put Seunghyun to bed.
"Your rooms are right next to each other," Seungri points out helpfully. "Night, hyung!" He disappears before Jiyong can do more than throw him an irritated look over Seunghyun's shoulder.
"You got it?" Youngbae asks, swiping his keycard in further down the hall.
Jiyong roots around in Seunghyun's pockets and comes up with a squashed pack of cigarettes and the card to his room. Youngbae grins, shakes his head. The door clicks shut behind him.
Seunghyun mumbles something into the line of his neck before Jiyong tips him over into the queen. Seunghyun cracks an eye open as Jiyong wrestles the blankets to his neck. "Staying the night?" he croaks.
Jiyong raises an eyebrow. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"I just like having something to, you know, hold onto," Seunghyun says. He's grinning in the dark now, the neat outline of his teeth gleaming. "Usually I have that big body pillow in the dorm. Doesn't talk. Doesn't move. Perfect."
"I feel like I should be insulted," Jiyong starts, but Seunghyun's already grabbing his wrist to tug him underneath the covers.
3. There's just something different about being abroad. Like he doesn't have to watch himself as much because they're always moving, a bit more incognito than they ever are in Seoul. They tour in Japan again at the beginning of the summer in 2011 and Jiyong can wander around Osaka as much as he wants, go to Shinsaibashi and comb through all the storefronts there, burn his tongue on udon and takoyaki.
The afternoon before they leave for Chiba Seunghyun trips on the marble stairs in front of their hotel and sends their bags flying across the lobby. It takes Jiyong forever to find the second ring he'd gotten in Namba, less gaudy than his usual fare, a slim silver band with inlaid design he finally discovers beneath one of the potted plants next to reception. He's mad about it for all of five minutes before Seunghyun drags him back to the hotel room and musses Jiyong's hair up some more, shuffles him back against the swinging door and presses his mouth to Jiyong's neck.
That's it. Reckless. Being away from home affects them all-Seungri relaxes when the chip on his shoulder isn't so close, Daesung withdraws more behind the smile, Youngbae's more adventurous about going off book-and it makes Jiyong feel reckless. Less guarded, like Seunghyun is with touching when they're out of the country, his hands fitting around Jiyong's waist and his tongue sliding in Jiyong's mouth. Slow, the sharp scrape of his teeth against Jiyong's bottom lip, like Seunghyun wants to take his time, and-
Someone bangs on the door. Jiyong's head thunks back against the wood, hips rising helplessly. Seunghyun's forehead drifts down to rest above Jiyong's shoulder, breath coming out in quiet pants. His hand clenches around Jiyong's hipbone.
"Hey, we're going out for dinner," Byungyung calls. "Downstairs in ten?"
"We should go, right?" Jiyong mumbles.
Seunghyun sighs into his throat. "They'll be waiting for us."
"Fuck," Jiyong says. He squeezes his eyes shut for a second, trying to shelve his arousal, and pushes off from the door.
4. The last time Jiyong was in Europe was in 2009. That was a vacation, as much as any of his travel can be for vacation, but the EMAs are all business, kicking off the beginning of an awards season that they won't be attending at all this year. It's the first time he's seen Daesung in months, sitting in the hotel getting his make-up done before the red carpet, and all he can do is slide into the chair next to his and say, "I wrote us something new." As if that will help with anything.
They win the award. They win the award and it makes Jiyong feel a little sad, because it says more about the fans than it does about them. Can't even enjoy Belfast because they're cooped up indoors, listless and unnaturally quiet, and when Jiyong reaches for Seunghyun's collar, Seunghyun just shakes his head and says, "Don't."
5. They're in a pool in Bangkok, or backstage in Manila, or in a packed barbeque place in K-Town-and Seunghyun bumps their knees together, or brushes Jiyong's wrist with his fingers, or crouches down next to the edge of the shallow end so Jiyong can almost see down his shirt. Seunghyun doesn't so much play games as he does flirt with his own self-erected boundaries. Toes the line every now and then to keep Jiyong guessing, like Jiyong wouldn't take him any way Seunghyun decided to offer.
These days he's content to keep Jiyong high and dry. He'll rope Jiyong in by the arm at the airport and go out for rotating sushi in Osaka but Jiyong will get him alone and Seunghyun will just grin, let Jiyong press him into the mattress for a couple of minutes before rolling over and falling asleep. Jiyong likes Seunghyun best when he's playful but sometimes he hates coming out of the bathroom and seeing Seunghyun's smug face, the dimple in his cheek deepening as he goes over the set list again, eyebrows rising like he knows every detail of what Jiyong's been doing alone in the shower.
Seunghyun says yes to Jakarta when Jiyong and Seungri are on the way back to Seoul from Thailand. They spend the morning of the concert rehearsing their stages, Turn It Up's backtrack coming up three times in a row after almost a year of not hearing it at all. Jiyong perches at the front of the stage and watches Seunghyun spit into a microphone and sweat through his dress shirt, the empty arena rumbling with the sound of his voice.
"Do it again," Jiyong says after the third run-through.
Seunghyun crouches down and makes a face. "I think you just like hearing me talk."
Jiyong leans back on his palms, grins winningly. "Who wouldn't?"
Seunghyun chuckles, chalk on sandpaper. He's still laughing when they duck backstage with the dancers, chatting up a storm. Jiyong's about to collapse onto one of the waiting room couches when Seunghyun boxes him into costume and wardrobe, spits in his palm, and sticks a hand down Jiyong's pants.
"Really?" Jiyong mumbles, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. "Right now?"
"Good luck fuck," Seunghyun says, and kisses him.
Jiyong's gone so long without that it takes about half a minute for his hips to start bucking into the tight circle of Seunghyun's fingers. He fumbles with Seunghyun's belt and wraps a clumsy hand around Seunghyun's dick beneath the briefs, rubs a thumb over the head.
Seunghyun grunts into his mouth. His grip goes a little too tight. Jiyong bites on Seunghyun's lower lip as he comes, chest heaving. His ankle hooks around Seunghyun's calf and almost brings both of them down into a rack of glossy outfits.
"Oops," he mutters, snorting. Seunghyun staggers back and pulls Jiyong with him, brow furrowing as Jiyong's fingers clench, exhaling loudly with the movement of his hand. Jiyong leans in and presses the seam of his lips along the open collar of Seunghyun's shirt, pulls a little harder, and then Seunghyun's spilling into the crease of his palm, breath whiffing past Jiyong's ear.
Jiyong grimaces as he pulls his hand back out. Seunghyun shrugs at the look on his face and wipes his hand on his pants. "We're changing out of this shit anyway," he reasons, zipping himself back up.
"These are hundred dollar Gallianos, hyung," Jiyong moans, but there's a buzz beneath his skin that wasn't there before, half the leftover satisfaction of orgasm and half anticipation for what's to come.
He feels loose, slack, unwound. Ready for the show. They walk out together.
fin
Pairing: gd/top
Rating: nc17
Genre: slice-of-life
Warnings: swearing, sex
Author: gdgdbaby
Notes: advent calendar day 1, for snoaz. five times jiyong and seunghyun were abroad and almost hooked up, and one time they really did. 1,970 words.
1. "Let me see it."
Jiyong shrugs him off and flops on the bed, stomach first. "Not yet. I can't take the bandage off for like, a day."
Seunghyun's quiet for a minute. Then: "I bet you're just embarrassed."
Jiyong whips his head around. "Of what?"
"Your new tattoo," he replies, and he's grinning and Jiyong's grinding his teeth because it's working, god damn it. "What, does it say Wu-Tang Clan saranghae?"
"Fuck you," Jiyong mutters. "Like you wouldn't get a portrait of Biggie Smalls tattooed across your ass."
"Yeah," Seunghyun agrees calmly, "but I wouldn't be embarrassed by it."
Jiyong snorts. "Wait a couple hours. Don't fall asleep on me, old man."
It's half past two when he finally drags himself to the tiny bathroom, shedding his shirt as he goes. "You got three?" Seunghyun murmurs, crowding in behind him. He drags his phone out. "Wait, let me tell-"
And then Youngbae's poking his head into their room, gummy-eyed and curious. Jiyong sits at the edge of the tub and lets warm water run against his shoulder, the insides of his elbows, waits for the gauze to soak. His skin glistens as he peels it off. He can barely see the last words of the curling script when he turns to gaze down at it.
Youngbae reads it out loud. "The Eagles?" Seunghyun asks, and Jiyong ducks his head and nods. Okay, yeah. Maybe he is kind of embarrassed, but only because they're staring at him so intently. He busies himself with the rest of aftercare, pats the red skin with a tissue and waits for it to dry.
"Cool," Youngbae says at last. He claps Jiyong carefully on the arm and rubs at the stubble growing in along his jaw. "I'm going back to sleep."
Jiyong waves. Reaches a hand out further, and it takes Seunghyun a minute to realize he's gesturing at the tub of Bacitracin that Carey had given him. He watches Jiyong apply it gently to the crooks of his elbows. "Need help?" he asks, as Jiyong twists around to stare at the calligraphic to die on his bicep.
"Sure," Jiyong says. "Not too much." He swivels on the edge of the tub and tucks his legs into it. Seunghyun slides onto the closed toilet cover and takes the ointment from him, spreads a little on his fingers, and goes to work.
"Does it hurt?"
"Nah." It stings like a motherfucker, but Seunghyun's fingers brush against his shoulder blade, warm and soft, and it's easier to focus on that.
There's a moment as they move into the bedroom again, when Jiyong catches Seunghyun staring at the back of his neck, trailing across the sweep of his shoulders. He's too tired to do anything more than collapse on the bed, face buried in his pillow. Long flight tomorrow. Excessive sweat would be bad for the tattoo, anyway.
2. They're at some late night teriyaki place after the last Electric Love stop. Jiyong can feel the grease in the air congealing like a second layer of thick make-up on his face. He takes a long sip of his soup, chews the tofu twice before swallowing, his molars stinging. Seungri's inhaling complementary seaweed salad to his left, and Seunghyun looks like he's about to fall asleep through the steam rising over their meat.
Post-tour meals are always like this. The exhaustion's just about to catch up with them, but the adrenaline from the stage hasn't quite worn off yet-and it's still a little too early to talk about what they did right and wrong, what to change for next time. All that's left on the night of the last concert is a fleeting feeling of satisfaction flitting about in his chest, and a desire to rest, even if only for a while.
Jiyong eats on autopilot. Laughs when Daesung says something about his last filming for Family Outing, and when Seunghyun spills sake all down his front. The smell follows them all the way back to the hotel, and-predictable, so predictable-Jiyong draws the short straw and has to put Seunghyun to bed.
"Your rooms are right next to each other," Seungri points out helpfully. "Night, hyung!" He disappears before Jiyong can do more than throw him an irritated look over Seunghyun's shoulder.
"You got it?" Youngbae asks, swiping his keycard in further down the hall.
Jiyong roots around in Seunghyun's pockets and comes up with a squashed pack of cigarettes and the card to his room. Youngbae grins, shakes his head. The door clicks shut behind him.
Seunghyun mumbles something into the line of his neck before Jiyong tips him over into the queen. Seunghyun cracks an eye open as Jiyong wrestles the blankets to his neck. "Staying the night?" he croaks.
Jiyong raises an eyebrow. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"I just like having something to, you know, hold onto," Seunghyun says. He's grinning in the dark now, the neat outline of his teeth gleaming. "Usually I have that big body pillow in the dorm. Doesn't talk. Doesn't move. Perfect."
"I feel like I should be insulted," Jiyong starts, but Seunghyun's already grabbing his wrist to tug him underneath the covers.
3. There's just something different about being abroad. Like he doesn't have to watch himself as much because they're always moving, a bit more incognito than they ever are in Seoul. They tour in Japan again at the beginning of the summer in 2011 and Jiyong can wander around Osaka as much as he wants, go to Shinsaibashi and comb through all the storefronts there, burn his tongue on udon and takoyaki.
The afternoon before they leave for Chiba Seunghyun trips on the marble stairs in front of their hotel and sends their bags flying across the lobby. It takes Jiyong forever to find the second ring he'd gotten in Namba, less gaudy than his usual fare, a slim silver band with inlaid design he finally discovers beneath one of the potted plants next to reception. He's mad about it for all of five minutes before Seunghyun drags him back to the hotel room and musses Jiyong's hair up some more, shuffles him back against the swinging door and presses his mouth to Jiyong's neck.
That's it. Reckless. Being away from home affects them all-Seungri relaxes when the chip on his shoulder isn't so close, Daesung withdraws more behind the smile, Youngbae's more adventurous about going off book-and it makes Jiyong feel reckless. Less guarded, like Seunghyun is with touching when they're out of the country, his hands fitting around Jiyong's waist and his tongue sliding in Jiyong's mouth. Slow, the sharp scrape of his teeth against Jiyong's bottom lip, like Seunghyun wants to take his time, and-
Someone bangs on the door. Jiyong's head thunks back against the wood, hips rising helplessly. Seunghyun's forehead drifts down to rest above Jiyong's shoulder, breath coming out in quiet pants. His hand clenches around Jiyong's hipbone.
"Hey, we're going out for dinner," Byungyung calls. "Downstairs in ten?"
"We should go, right?" Jiyong mumbles.
Seunghyun sighs into his throat. "They'll be waiting for us."
"Fuck," Jiyong says. He squeezes his eyes shut for a second, trying to shelve his arousal, and pushes off from the door.
4. The last time Jiyong was in Europe was in 2009. That was a vacation, as much as any of his travel can be for vacation, but the EMAs are all business, kicking off the beginning of an awards season that they won't be attending at all this year. It's the first time he's seen Daesung in months, sitting in the hotel getting his make-up done before the red carpet, and all he can do is slide into the chair next to his and say, "I wrote us something new." As if that will help with anything.
They win the award. They win the award and it makes Jiyong feel a little sad, because it says more about the fans than it does about them. Can't even enjoy Belfast because they're cooped up indoors, listless and unnaturally quiet, and when Jiyong reaches for Seunghyun's collar, Seunghyun just shakes his head and says, "Don't."
5. They're in a pool in Bangkok, or backstage in Manila, or in a packed barbeque place in K-Town-and Seunghyun bumps their knees together, or brushes Jiyong's wrist with his fingers, or crouches down next to the edge of the shallow end so Jiyong can almost see down his shirt. Seunghyun doesn't so much play games as he does flirt with his own self-erected boundaries. Toes the line every now and then to keep Jiyong guessing, like Jiyong wouldn't take him any way Seunghyun decided to offer.
These days he's content to keep Jiyong high and dry. He'll rope Jiyong in by the arm at the airport and go out for rotating sushi in Osaka but Jiyong will get him alone and Seunghyun will just grin, let Jiyong press him into the mattress for a couple of minutes before rolling over and falling asleep. Jiyong likes Seunghyun best when he's playful but sometimes he hates coming out of the bathroom and seeing Seunghyun's smug face, the dimple in his cheek deepening as he goes over the set list again, eyebrows rising like he knows every detail of what Jiyong's been doing alone in the shower.
Seunghyun says yes to Jakarta when Jiyong and Seungri are on the way back to Seoul from Thailand. They spend the morning of the concert rehearsing their stages, Turn It Up's backtrack coming up three times in a row after almost a year of not hearing it at all. Jiyong perches at the front of the stage and watches Seunghyun spit into a microphone and sweat through his dress shirt, the empty arena rumbling with the sound of his voice.
"Do it again," Jiyong says after the third run-through.
Seunghyun crouches down and makes a face. "I think you just like hearing me talk."
Jiyong leans back on his palms, grins winningly. "Who wouldn't?"
Seunghyun chuckles, chalk on sandpaper. He's still laughing when they duck backstage with the dancers, chatting up a storm. Jiyong's about to collapse onto one of the waiting room couches when Seunghyun boxes him into costume and wardrobe, spits in his palm, and sticks a hand down Jiyong's pants.
"Really?" Jiyong mumbles, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. "Right now?"
"Good luck fuck," Seunghyun says, and kisses him.
Jiyong's gone so long without that it takes about half a minute for his hips to start bucking into the tight circle of Seunghyun's fingers. He fumbles with Seunghyun's belt and wraps a clumsy hand around Seunghyun's dick beneath the briefs, rubs a thumb over the head.
Seunghyun grunts into his mouth. His grip goes a little too tight. Jiyong bites on Seunghyun's lower lip as he comes, chest heaving. His ankle hooks around Seunghyun's calf and almost brings both of them down into a rack of glossy outfits.
"Oops," he mutters, snorting. Seunghyun staggers back and pulls Jiyong with him, brow furrowing as Jiyong's fingers clench, exhaling loudly with the movement of his hand. Jiyong leans in and presses the seam of his lips along the open collar of Seunghyun's shirt, pulls a little harder, and then Seunghyun's spilling into the crease of his palm, breath whiffing past Jiyong's ear.
Jiyong grimaces as he pulls his hand back out. Seunghyun shrugs at the look on his face and wipes his hand on his pants. "We're changing out of this shit anyway," he reasons, zipping himself back up.
"These are hundred dollar Gallianos, hyung," Jiyong moans, but there's a buzz beneath his skin that wasn't there before, half the leftover satisfaction of orgasm and half anticipation for what's to come.
He feels loose, slack, unwound. Ready for the show. They walk out together.
fin