[oneshot] seemed like a good idea at the time
Title: seemed like a good idea at the time
Pairing: GTOP
Rating: pg13 for sexual themes and language
Genre: au, pre-slash, crack
Warnings: swearing, sexual themes
Author: gdgdbaby
Notes: jiyong finds out that frats are really not for him. college au. 1,792 words. companion fic to and the worst of it now (i can’t remember your face), the morning after, another long quiet night, and i think i'd be good for you (and you'd be good for me).
"So. Lambda Phi Epsilon."
"Don't talk to me about fraternities," Jiyong grumbles, glancing at Youngbae once before turning back to the heap of pasta on his plate and shoving spoonfuls down his throat.
Youngbae sighs and picks at his own soggy garlic bread. "Come on, you'd really like it. A lot of our friends are in it-you know Hyuksoo and Seungho, and I think Kyungil's rushing this semester so you'd have a-"
Jiyong's loud snort cuts him off. "And who's the president this year?"
"Look," Youngbae replies quickly, "I know you don't like him but-"
"He's a power-tripping douchebag who just wants-"
"He's not that bad!" Jiyong looks up again incredulously and Youngbae shifts, uncomfortable. "You're just mad that Jaejoong thought you were a girl and hit on you the first time you two met."
"He has no fucking right," Jiyong hisses, "to call other guys out for taking care of their skin and dressing well when he-"
"That's enough," Youngbae groans. "Fine, you won't rush, I get it. Just know that you could be meeting a lot of great people and you're just letting first impressions get in the way of everything."
"Whatever you say," he mutters. "If I wanted to drink or pick guys up, I'd go to a club. That's what fake IDs are for. Speaking of which,"-his brow wrinkles here, "why are you in a frat anyway? There's underage drinking involved, probably hazing, other random illegal shit. They don't sit around and puke rainbows at each other, Youngbae."
Youngbae pinches the bridge of his nose. "It's the Asian fraternity on campus! They aren't that questionable, and I'm mainly just in it for the service."
"Sure. Service that involves smoking weed in class when the professors aren't looking"-("That was just one time!")-"and carrying chickens around everywhere for weeks on end."
Youngbae sighs. "Can you just-just come with me to one of the rush events, okay? Next Friday after chem lab?"
Jiyong's eyes narrow and Youngbae stares at him pleadingly. "What'll we be doing?"
"It'll be fun, I promise-"
"What will we be doing?"
"Beer pong!"
He chews thoughtfully on a bite of pasta as Youngbae fidgets next to him and frowns. "Okay, fine."
"Really?"
"Don't look so surprised," Jiyong scoffs. "I'm sure it won't happen again."
Youngbae turns several shades paler when Jiyong slouches into lab wearing Louis Vuitton print pajama bottoms and an oversized, low-neck cotton shirt. "You can't come to the rush event like that," he hisses when Jiyong sits down and opens his lab book.
"Why not?" he says dismissively. "It's not like I want to join or anything, and you don't win beer pong based on what you're wearing."
"You know Jaejoong's just going to make some snide remark again."
"Let him," Jiyong snorts. "I'm just going to try and have a good time, alright? Unless you suddenly don't want me to come meet your frat buddies anymore?"
"No," Youngbae says slowly, and then the beginning of class effectively cuts off any sort of conversation between them that doesn't have anything to do with the lab at hand.
Loud bass music is already pouring out of the club when they arrive; a bunch of drunk undergrads totter out of the doorway as they walk in. "Jesus Christ," Jiyong says, giving the dancers on the tables a sort of distasteful look. "It's not even nine o'clock yet."
Youngbae introduces him to some of the other brothers. His big is a guy named Teddy, who seems cool but also looks like he should've graduated years ago. He waves when he sees Kyungil at the bar, trying to chat up two girls at once.
Some of the board members seem to be sitting in the back and Youngbae makes a systematic beeline for them despite Jiyong's best efforts to avoid that part of the club. Some guy with orange hair (Hyunjoong, Youngbae calls him) and another nondescript-looking Korean boy (Yoochun) are sitting with Jaejoong, who's sipping on what looks like absinthe on the rocks. "Jaejoong," he says with a cool nod, twirling the celery stick in his Bloody Mary.
"Jiyongie!" Jaejoong replies smarmily, standing to shake Youngbae's hand and pat him on the shoulder. "Have I ever told you that you're my favorite underclassman?" Jiyong takes his cup and proceeds to calmly dump it onto Jaejoong’s white Gucci slacks. "Holy-what the fuck is wrong with you?"
"You do know absinthe is illegal in America, don't you?" Jiyong asks, ignoring the question.
Youngbae coughs. "You drink it all the time, why are you making a big deal-"
"Shut up," he says under his breath, elbowing Youngbae's side.
"These pants cost three hundred dollars," Jaejoong snaps. "What are you going to do to repay me?"
"When are you going to learn that I'm just not interested?"
Jaejoong scowls. "I own this club. I could make life miserable for you."
"That sounds like a line out of a shitty mafia movie," Jiyong retorts. "And I really, really doubt it."
Youngbae tugs his arm. "You should apologize."
"Don't flip your shit, Youngbae," Jiyong tells him, before turning around and walking right into two, tall security guards.
"Look," Jaejoong says, a wicked smile flitting onto his face when Jiyong turns back around. "You haven't even played a game of beer pong yet. If you win, you can leave. If you lose, you'll have to pledge."
"Pledge?"
"Yeah," and Youngbae's glancing nervously from him to Jaejoong and back again, fiddling with the cuff of his varsity jacket. "You'll have to pledge Lambda Phi Epsilon."
"Okay," he replies without thinking, crossing his arms. "Who do I play?"
Jaejoong starts ticking people off on his finger. "Hyunjoong is shit at beer pong, Yoochun is high as fuck right now,"-said upperclassman waves cheerily at Jiyong from his seat, "so I guess it'll have to be-ah, Seunghyun, there you are! What the fuck took you so long to get the cases of beer?" Jiyong frowns. Why does that name sound so-
He doesn't even have time to finish the thought when someone is shoving him aside to set three boxes down on the floor next to Jaejoong's feet. When he straightens back up, Jiyong's jaw drops. "You!"
Seunghyun cocks his head and grins at him. "Hey, Starbucks."
"What the hell is going on? You know these people?"
"Yeah, I'm in this frat. Treasurer."
"I don't understand how someone as dumb as you is treasurer of any campus organization," Jiyong sniffs, and Seunghyun grins at him, shakes his head. Around them, brothers are setting tables up for beer pong. Jaejoong tells Seunghyun what happened (if Jiyong isn't imagining things, he swears Seunghyun flicks him an amused look before pretending to look concerned as the president rants on). "Sure," he says after Jaejoong's finished. "I can take this guy."
Jiyong frowns and takes his position at the end of a table. "Bring it on."
It goes like this: every time one of them shoots the ball into a cup, someone hands the other guy a cranberry-vodka shot. Seunghyun's the first who has to take one, downs it all in one gulp in a way that has Jiyong staring for too long at how his Adam's apple bobs up and down, but he sinks two ping-pong balls soon after. By the time the game is winding down, they're both down to two cups and Seunghyun's eyes are unnaturally bright underneath the strobe lights. Somehow, despite four shots in the course of an hour, he makes one, and then the other, and Seunghyun's left with one shot to tie the game.
Jaejoong's frowning and whispering in Seunghyun's ear, but he shakes him off and aims. The second before he lets the ball fly Jiyong meets his gaze and is half-surprised, half-confused to see that it's steady and sure. The corner of Seunghyun's mouth goes up and he tosses the ball, which misses the last cup by two centimeters and bounces off the table and onto the floor. There's an eruption of sound from around the table and cups are replaced for the next game. He's swept aside by a torrent of people and manages to make his way out of the club before leaning up against the wall outside, sucking in cool air that doesn't smell like weed and alcohol.
"I let you win," comes a voice from behind him, and he twists around (almost loses his balance in the process) to see Seunghyun grinning, silhouetted by the flashing lights of the club. "Now you don't have to pledge."
"Maybe I want to," Jiyong blurts out, and then Seunghyun is moving forward, pinning him against the wall and fitting their mouths together; the vodka on his tongue still burns when Seunghyun's slides against his. He tastes like cranberry and lime from the shots and something like smooth chocolate, and Jiyong groans into his mouth when hands come up to fist his hair and pull his head back for better access.
When they break apart for air and he opens his eyes, Seunghyun is grinning down at him, one leg trapped between Jiyong's and arms cupping his back. Seunghyun dips his head back down and is about to kiss him again, but then shrill bell-sounds erupt from inside the club and suddenly people are screaming and spilling out of the doorway.
Jaejoong is disheveled and his shirt is half torn when Jiyong spots him in the middle of the crowd. "What the hell happened?" Seunghyun asks, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder.
"Fire in one of the VIP rooms," Jaejoong manages, breathing hard. "Not one of the frat's, thank God. I did a head count, everyone's safe." He turns to Jiyong, and he scrunches up his nose and curls into Seunghyun's side. "Youngbae's looking for you."
"Cockblocked by the fucking fire alarm," Seunghyun murmurs sadly, and Jiyong laughs at the little pout on his face.
"It's alright," he says, untangling himself from Seunghyun and shaking his head. The alarm seems to have jolted some of the cobwebby inebriation out of his head and his limbs are heavy with exhaustion. Out of his peripheral vision he sees Jaejoong give Seunghyun a meaningful look. "We've still got that Starbucks date," he says purposefully, and Seunghyun smiles a lopsided smile, plants a kiss on his forehead.
The last thing Jiyong sees before he goes is Seunghyun grinning and trying to calm an irritated Jaejoong down.
In the morning, after downing three Advil pills and taking a shower to get all the previous night's gunk off of him, he turns out the pockets of his jacket and finds a small piece of paper with a phone number scrawled messily across it.
fin
A/N: MAY OR MAY NOT BE INFLUENCED BY REAL LIFE EVENTS >|
Pairing: GTOP
Rating: pg13 for sexual themes and language
Genre: au, pre-slash, crack
Warnings: swearing, sexual themes
Author: gdgdbaby
Notes: jiyong finds out that frats are really not for him. college au. 1,792 words. companion fic to and the worst of it now (i can’t remember your face), the morning after, another long quiet night, and i think i'd be good for you (and you'd be good for me).
"So. Lambda Phi Epsilon."
"Don't talk to me about fraternities," Jiyong grumbles, glancing at Youngbae once before turning back to the heap of pasta on his plate and shoving spoonfuls down his throat.
Youngbae sighs and picks at his own soggy garlic bread. "Come on, you'd really like it. A lot of our friends are in it-you know Hyuksoo and Seungho, and I think Kyungil's rushing this semester so you'd have a-"
Jiyong's loud snort cuts him off. "And who's the president this year?"
"Look," Youngbae replies quickly, "I know you don't like him but-"
"He's a power-tripping douchebag who just wants-"
"He's not that bad!" Jiyong looks up again incredulously and Youngbae shifts, uncomfortable. "You're just mad that Jaejoong thought you were a girl and hit on you the first time you two met."
"He has no fucking right," Jiyong hisses, "to call other guys out for taking care of their skin and dressing well when he-"
"That's enough," Youngbae groans. "Fine, you won't rush, I get it. Just know that you could be meeting a lot of great people and you're just letting first impressions get in the way of everything."
"Whatever you say," he mutters. "If I wanted to drink or pick guys up, I'd go to a club. That's what fake IDs are for. Speaking of which,"-his brow wrinkles here, "why are you in a frat anyway? There's underage drinking involved, probably hazing, other random illegal shit. They don't sit around and puke rainbows at each other, Youngbae."
Youngbae pinches the bridge of his nose. "It's the Asian fraternity on campus! They aren't that questionable, and I'm mainly just in it for the service."
"Sure. Service that involves smoking weed in class when the professors aren't looking"-("That was just one time!")-"and carrying chickens around everywhere for weeks on end."
Youngbae sighs. "Can you just-just come with me to one of the rush events, okay? Next Friday after chem lab?"
Jiyong's eyes narrow and Youngbae stares at him pleadingly. "What'll we be doing?"
"It'll be fun, I promise-"
"What will we be doing?"
"Beer pong!"
He chews thoughtfully on a bite of pasta as Youngbae fidgets next to him and frowns. "Okay, fine."
"Really?"
"Don't look so surprised," Jiyong scoffs. "I'm sure it won't happen again."
Youngbae turns several shades paler when Jiyong slouches into lab wearing Louis Vuitton print pajama bottoms and an oversized, low-neck cotton shirt. "You can't come to the rush event like that," he hisses when Jiyong sits down and opens his lab book.
"Why not?" he says dismissively. "It's not like I want to join or anything, and you don't win beer pong based on what you're wearing."
"You know Jaejoong's just going to make some snide remark again."
"Let him," Jiyong snorts. "I'm just going to try and have a good time, alright? Unless you suddenly don't want me to come meet your frat buddies anymore?"
"No," Youngbae says slowly, and then the beginning of class effectively cuts off any sort of conversation between them that doesn't have anything to do with the lab at hand.
Loud bass music is already pouring out of the club when they arrive; a bunch of drunk undergrads totter out of the doorway as they walk in. "Jesus Christ," Jiyong says, giving the dancers on the tables a sort of distasteful look. "It's not even nine o'clock yet."
Youngbae introduces him to some of the other brothers. His big is a guy named Teddy, who seems cool but also looks like he should've graduated years ago. He waves when he sees Kyungil at the bar, trying to chat up two girls at once.
Some of the board members seem to be sitting in the back and Youngbae makes a systematic beeline for them despite Jiyong's best efforts to avoid that part of the club. Some guy with orange hair (Hyunjoong, Youngbae calls him) and another nondescript-looking Korean boy (Yoochun) are sitting with Jaejoong, who's sipping on what looks like absinthe on the rocks. "Jaejoong," he says with a cool nod, twirling the celery stick in his Bloody Mary.
"Jiyongie!" Jaejoong replies smarmily, standing to shake Youngbae's hand and pat him on the shoulder. "Have I ever told you that you're my favorite underclassman?" Jiyong takes his cup and proceeds to calmly dump it onto Jaejoong’s white Gucci slacks. "Holy-what the fuck is wrong with you?"
"You do know absinthe is illegal in America, don't you?" Jiyong asks, ignoring the question.
Youngbae coughs. "You drink it all the time, why are you making a big deal-"
"Shut up," he says under his breath, elbowing Youngbae's side.
"These pants cost three hundred dollars," Jaejoong snaps. "What are you going to do to repay me?"
"When are you going to learn that I'm just not interested?"
Jaejoong scowls. "I own this club. I could make life miserable for you."
"That sounds like a line out of a shitty mafia movie," Jiyong retorts. "And I really, really doubt it."
Youngbae tugs his arm. "You should apologize."
"Don't flip your shit, Youngbae," Jiyong tells him, before turning around and walking right into two, tall security guards.
"Look," Jaejoong says, a wicked smile flitting onto his face when Jiyong turns back around. "You haven't even played a game of beer pong yet. If you win, you can leave. If you lose, you'll have to pledge."
"Pledge?"
"Yeah," and Youngbae's glancing nervously from him to Jaejoong and back again, fiddling with the cuff of his varsity jacket. "You'll have to pledge Lambda Phi Epsilon."
"Okay," he replies without thinking, crossing his arms. "Who do I play?"
Jaejoong starts ticking people off on his finger. "Hyunjoong is shit at beer pong, Yoochun is high as fuck right now,"-said upperclassman waves cheerily at Jiyong from his seat, "so I guess it'll have to be-ah, Seunghyun, there you are! What the fuck took you so long to get the cases of beer?" Jiyong frowns. Why does that name sound so-
He doesn't even have time to finish the thought when someone is shoving him aside to set three boxes down on the floor next to Jaejoong's feet. When he straightens back up, Jiyong's jaw drops. "You!"
Seunghyun cocks his head and grins at him. "Hey, Starbucks."
"What the hell is going on? You know these people?"
"Yeah, I'm in this frat. Treasurer."
"I don't understand how someone as dumb as you is treasurer of any campus organization," Jiyong sniffs, and Seunghyun grins at him, shakes his head. Around them, brothers are setting tables up for beer pong. Jaejoong tells Seunghyun what happened (if Jiyong isn't imagining things, he swears Seunghyun flicks him an amused look before pretending to look concerned as the president rants on). "Sure," he says after Jaejoong's finished. "I can take this guy."
Jiyong frowns and takes his position at the end of a table. "Bring it on."
It goes like this: every time one of them shoots the ball into a cup, someone hands the other guy a cranberry-vodka shot. Seunghyun's the first who has to take one, downs it all in one gulp in a way that has Jiyong staring for too long at how his Adam's apple bobs up and down, but he sinks two ping-pong balls soon after. By the time the game is winding down, they're both down to two cups and Seunghyun's eyes are unnaturally bright underneath the strobe lights. Somehow, despite four shots in the course of an hour, he makes one, and then the other, and Seunghyun's left with one shot to tie the game.
Jaejoong's frowning and whispering in Seunghyun's ear, but he shakes him off and aims. The second before he lets the ball fly Jiyong meets his gaze and is half-surprised, half-confused to see that it's steady and sure. The corner of Seunghyun's mouth goes up and he tosses the ball, which misses the last cup by two centimeters and bounces off the table and onto the floor. There's an eruption of sound from around the table and cups are replaced for the next game. He's swept aside by a torrent of people and manages to make his way out of the club before leaning up against the wall outside, sucking in cool air that doesn't smell like weed and alcohol.
"I let you win," comes a voice from behind him, and he twists around (almost loses his balance in the process) to see Seunghyun grinning, silhouetted by the flashing lights of the club. "Now you don't have to pledge."
"Maybe I want to," Jiyong blurts out, and then Seunghyun is moving forward, pinning him against the wall and fitting their mouths together; the vodka on his tongue still burns when Seunghyun's slides against his. He tastes like cranberry and lime from the shots and something like smooth chocolate, and Jiyong groans into his mouth when hands come up to fist his hair and pull his head back for better access.
When they break apart for air and he opens his eyes, Seunghyun is grinning down at him, one leg trapped between Jiyong's and arms cupping his back. Seunghyun dips his head back down and is about to kiss him again, but then shrill bell-sounds erupt from inside the club and suddenly people are screaming and spilling out of the doorway.
Jaejoong is disheveled and his shirt is half torn when Jiyong spots him in the middle of the crowd. "What the hell happened?" Seunghyun asks, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder.
"Fire in one of the VIP rooms," Jaejoong manages, breathing hard. "Not one of the frat's, thank God. I did a head count, everyone's safe." He turns to Jiyong, and he scrunches up his nose and curls into Seunghyun's side. "Youngbae's looking for you."
"Cockblocked by the fucking fire alarm," Seunghyun murmurs sadly, and Jiyong laughs at the little pout on his face.
"It's alright," he says, untangling himself from Seunghyun and shaking his head. The alarm seems to have jolted some of the cobwebby inebriation out of his head and his limbs are heavy with exhaustion. Out of his peripheral vision he sees Jaejoong give Seunghyun a meaningful look. "We've still got that Starbucks date," he says purposefully, and Seunghyun smiles a lopsided smile, plants a kiss on his forehead.
The last thing Jiyong sees before he goes is Seunghyun grinning and trying to calm an irritated Jaejoong down.
In the morning, after downing three Advil pills and taking a shower to get all the previous night's gunk off of him, he turns out the pockets of his jacket and finds a small piece of paper with a phone number scrawled messily across it.
fin
A/N: MAY OR MAY NOT BE INFLUENCED BY REAL LIFE EVENTS >|