2 short fics in one night? Oh my!
Title: Seungho Imagines Things
Rating: PG
Pairing: Seungho/Joon
Length: 516
Summary: Video games, wrestling, possibly lustful Joon but Seungho only believes he's right about the first two.
A/N: For satrina7 Unexpectedly I had a moment of inspiration to fulfill your request for a SeungJoon fic. Hope you like it.
“Son of a bitch!”
Seungho stumbled at Joon's angry yell. Struggling to take off his shoes, he wondered who had pissed of the most moody member of the group this time. Sometimes being leader with a member as emotional as Joon could be wearing. Not that he didn't feel affection for the younger man but sometimes he felt it was like trying to sit on a grenade with the pin removed. Sacrificial and basically stupid on his part.
Not that he would have it any other way. MBLAQ was his heart and his life. He would and could be as sacrificial and stupid as need be.
Finally getting his shoes off and his slippers on, Seungho strode into the living room. Joon sprawled on most of the sofa, playing what looked to be one of the Fallout games. He was muttering curses in Korean, Japanese, English, and the bit of Tagalog Cheondoong had taught him.
“At least when the game pisses you off, you can shoot somebody - in the game - in the head.”
Joon jumped. The controller flew out of his hand and across the room. The curses were louder and even more inventive. Seungho decided he also found Joon's moodiness could also be great comic relief - depending on the situation.
“Seungho! You're home early.” Rising with his usual grace, Joon stalked over to where the controller had landed. He checked it over, aimed it at the gaming console and pushed a few buttons. “Didn't break the controller. Or I'd have to break you.”
“Uh-huh. I would like to see you try.” Seungho braced himself.
Predictably, Joon dropped the controller on the sofa, jumped onto the back and launched himself at Seungho. The full force of his weight caused Seungho to step back a couple of paces before he began grappling in earnest with the younger man. He had more bulk and precise skills but Joon made up for it in agility and determination. It wasn't long before Joon pinned Seungho to the floor.
“I won! I always win!” He crowed with delighted triumph as he sat on Seungho's abdomen and pinned his hands to the rug.
Laughing, Seungho agreed. “Now that you've won again, let me up.”
A flash of dark heat moved through Joon's eyes. For a split second Seungho thought it was lust but it was gone so quickly he figured he imagined it.
“Sure. Gonna go back to my game. Unless you want a turn.” Moving quickly, Joon stood with controller in hand, offering it to Seungho while keeping his body mostly turned away.
“Nah. I'm good. Need to take a shower and find some food. Long day. And I'm starving.” Reaching out he ruffled Joon's hair.
As he walked towards the bathroom door, he thought he heard “I've been starving too - for you.” When he glanced over his shoulder, Joon was sprawled again on the sofa engrossed in shooting giant scorpions. Seungho shrugged and headed for the shower. His imagination was haywire. Food and rest would fix that. He hoped.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Seungho/Joon
Length: 516
Summary: Video games, wrestling, possibly lustful Joon but Seungho only believes he's right about the first two.
A/N: For satrina7 Unexpectedly I had a moment of inspiration to fulfill your request for a SeungJoon fic. Hope you like it.
“Son of a bitch!”
Seungho stumbled at Joon's angry yell. Struggling to take off his shoes, he wondered who had pissed of the most moody member of the group this time. Sometimes being leader with a member as emotional as Joon could be wearing. Not that he didn't feel affection for the younger man but sometimes he felt it was like trying to sit on a grenade with the pin removed. Sacrificial and basically stupid on his part.
Not that he would have it any other way. MBLAQ was his heart and his life. He would and could be as sacrificial and stupid as need be.
Finally getting his shoes off and his slippers on, Seungho strode into the living room. Joon sprawled on most of the sofa, playing what looked to be one of the Fallout games. He was muttering curses in Korean, Japanese, English, and the bit of Tagalog Cheondoong had taught him.
“At least when the game pisses you off, you can shoot somebody - in the game - in the head.”
Joon jumped. The controller flew out of his hand and across the room. The curses were louder and even more inventive. Seungho decided he also found Joon's moodiness could also be great comic relief - depending on the situation.
“Seungho! You're home early.” Rising with his usual grace, Joon stalked over to where the controller had landed. He checked it over, aimed it at the gaming console and pushed a few buttons. “Didn't break the controller. Or I'd have to break you.”
“Uh-huh. I would like to see you try.” Seungho braced himself.
Predictably, Joon dropped the controller on the sofa, jumped onto the back and launched himself at Seungho. The full force of his weight caused Seungho to step back a couple of paces before he began grappling in earnest with the younger man. He had more bulk and precise skills but Joon made up for it in agility and determination. It wasn't long before Joon pinned Seungho to the floor.
“I won! I always win!” He crowed with delighted triumph as he sat on Seungho's abdomen and pinned his hands to the rug.
Laughing, Seungho agreed. “Now that you've won again, let me up.”
A flash of dark heat moved through Joon's eyes. For a split second Seungho thought it was lust but it was gone so quickly he figured he imagined it.
“Sure. Gonna go back to my game. Unless you want a turn.” Moving quickly, Joon stood with controller in hand, offering it to Seungho while keeping his body mostly turned away.
“Nah. I'm good. Need to take a shower and find some food. Long day. And I'm starving.” Reaching out he ruffled Joon's hair.
As he walked towards the bathroom door, he thought he heard “I've been starving too - for you.” When he glanced over his shoulder, Joon was sprawled again on the sofa engrossed in shooting giant scorpions. Seungho shrugged and headed for the shower. His imagination was haywire. Food and rest would fix that. He hoped.