Archive of Our Own

If Hoseok is being honest, the novelty of online dating has long since worn out.

When he’d first started using tinder, an idea that had stemmed from a bad break-up, a night in with Jimin and a bottle of alcohol they’d found at the back of one of their cupboards (admittedly not a great combination, but what good is retrospect to anyone?), he’d felt almost overwhelmed with choice. It’d been exhilarating, and somehow liberating, to be able to be so open about dating. He’d built a profile, taking care to include something interesting, not too show-off-y, but still something that told people he had a little more to him. 

A couple of years on from that night, and Hoseok is now firm in the fact that the kind of people who dwell on apps like these do not deserve much excitement or expectation.

On average, he finds himself either being bored by the lack of personality shining through the profile he’s looking at, or rolling his eyes at how seriously people take themselves, how hard they try to impress. Neither are much fun to talk to, and Hoseok is kind of bored of the hooking-up-without-really-talking thing.

The movie they’re watching is drowned out by the pinging of Hoseok’s phone. Hoseok is all for ignoring it, can’t really be bothered making conversation right now, not when he’s hanging out with his friends. Jimin, however, is quick to the punch, eyebrows quirking up as he hears the tinder jingle. He sits up on the sofa and presses himself into Hoseok’s side, gripping his wrist and holding it up so he can read the notification from his lock-screen out loud.

You have a new match.  

Taehyung wolf-whistles.

'Is he cute, hyung?' Taehyung asks, shifting from his place on the floor so he can sneak a peek too.  

'I don’t know yet, vultures,' Hoseok says, leaning back as he unlocks his phone, feeling only mild interest as he waits for the app to load.

Both boys make a disappointed noise that Hoseok isn’t letting them in on the action, but return to the movie rather quickly all the same. Hoseok’s lips quirk up as Taehyung lays his head against Jimin’s knees, Jimin stroking a hand through his hair on instinct.

They never needed a dumb dating app, Hoseok thinks to himself, somewhere between bitter and bemused.

Whilst Jimin had been on tinder for some time, he’d done what Hoseok was starting to believe only happened in the movies and had met Taehyung, very much in real life, at a coffee shop. It’d all been very romantic and ridiculous, just the way Jimin had always hoped his first real love would be. Hoseok can only just about skirt around the details now, it’s been so long, but from what he can remember their relationship had arisen from a misheard name written on a coffee cup, an apology in the form of a phone number, and probably, knowing Jimin, an obscene amount of flirting.

Choosing not to dwell on the adorable sight of his friends snuggling, Hoseok checks on his own match. Hoseok recognises his picture, remembers being impressed by the guy’s appearance; his striking features and built body cleanly showcased in his four profile pictures. His lips swell like blooming petals, dark hair swept back off his face to show off the sharp lines of his eyebrows, face perfectly clear and symmetrical.

Seokjin, 26.

 

He quietly wonders if the rosy pink of Seokjin’s mouth is natural, or whether he applies balm.

He swipes through the pictures again, laughing once he reaches the last picture; the guy, Seokjin, holding a lobster to his ear like a phone with a totally serious, almost striking, expression on his face. It’s weird, completely without context, but Hoseok kind of likes that.

'Is he chatting you up already, hyung?' Taehyung asks, looking at Hoseok’s smile like a puppy. Hoseok can imagine his tail wagging.

'Cheesy pick-up lines are funny and all,’ Jimin interjects, ‘but don’t let them fool you.'

Hoseok giggles, playfully kicking Jimin’s thigh and the top of Taehyung’s head in turn. 'Shush.'

For a moment, he just flicks back and forth. Another selfie; a sweet, almost shy smile playing on Seokjin’s lips, one candid taken from behind him, his bare shoulders broad and strong-looking as he hunches over a chopping board, and finally, a picture of him outside, looking snug wrapped in the fluffiest, pink coat Hoseok has ever seen.

Pink is absolutely his colour, Hoseok decides.

Before shooting him a message, Hoseok checks Seokjin’s bio. He doesn’t often come across bios that offer more than heights, preferences and one of the five same cheesy one-liners that everyone uses on this app. They’re useless, in his opinion, in actually striking a conversation. He likes having something to work off, some interesting fact or line he can bounce back on.

Seokjin, 26.  

i'm gonna keep it real, i'm probably too hot for you, but my tortellini is too hot for me to keep eating alone

 

Hoseok snorts. A little corny, a little overly confident, but worth a smile. He remembers, now, why he’d swiped right. He’s a little ashamed to admit he’d actually been a little excited at the prospect of matching with this guy, something he rarely feels these days on this app. He pauses, trying to think of something witty to say. He bites his lip when he comes up short, doesn’t want an attempt to be funny fall flat, nor go with the generic ‘hey’ that can kill a conversation before it’s even begun. Seokjin has given him something to work with, but he has nothing to throw back.

So instead, he decides to wait for Seokjin to message, per the unspoken rule that the last one to like is the one to start the conversation. Or, at least, per the rule that Hoseok thinks everyone on tinder should follow.

Evidentially, Seokjin does not follow this rule, because three days later, he still hasn’t messaged Hoseok.

And that’s fine. Really, it is. Because Hoseok doesn’t put hopes in tinder boys. Jimin had been very clear that that was a slippery slope, getting too invested in one person. Swipe, swipe, move on.

So Hoseok carries on. He swipes, participates in go-nowhere conversations with boys he really isn’t sure he could ever be interested in romantically, and he repeats.

He does think about Seokjin though, can’t help it. He’s easily the prettiest person Hoseok’s ever matched with, and despite his suspicions that Seokjin is maybe a little bit of an arrogant ass, he still takes pride in the fact that he’d apparently thought Hoseok was attractive enough to match with.

'Just not attractive enough to actually talk to me,' Hoseok mumbles under his breath to himself as swipes through Seokjin’s pictures. He doesn’t do it often (or not often enough to warrant intervention), but tonight he’s been feeling particularly needy for attention, and frustrated that he hasn’t had so much as a hey from the guy.

'What, hyung?' Jimin says, not looking up from his phone, his head on Hoseok’s lap.

'Nothing,' Hoseok says, locking his phone and looking up at the ceiling. 'Just, well. There’s this guy.'

'Tinder?'

'Yeah.'

'Hot?'

'Upsettingly so.'

'Mm. Go on.'

'He hasn’t messaged.'

'You mean like he’s ghosting you?'

'Uh, no? I don’t think so. I mean, does it count as ghosting if you’ve never even spoken?'

He feels Jimin drops his phone at that and looks down to see him frowning.

'Don’t tell me you’ve gotten hung up on a guy you’ve never even spoken to. That’s rule one of tinder, hyung!'

'I thought rule one of tinder was don’t use super-likes?'

'That’s number two. Also very important.' He pauses, looks at Hoseok suspiciously. 'You didn’t super-like him, did you?'

'No! No, I just think he’s really hot.'

'So why don’t you message?'

'He liked last! Rules state it’s him that has to start the conversation.'

'That is not a rule! I wrote the rules and that is not a rule. Maybe he’s shy?'

Hoseok clicks his tongue, considering. 'Maybe. He really doesn’t seem it, though.'

'What’d you mean?'

'Just look.'

Hoseok unlocks his phone again, the picture of Seokjin’s back already on screen. He turns his phone, lets Jimin take it in his hands and evaluate the profile. He skims through the pictures, mouth quirking up a little as he presumably gets to the lobster picture.

'He is really hot,” Jimin asserts once he’s done. ‘Older, too. Very nice.’

'Yep,' Hoseok says, throwing his head back again. 'Why won’t he talk to me?'

'What does your bio say, maybe you’re not giving him enough to work off?'

Jimin clicks around, then reads Hoseok’s bio out loud. Hoseok cringes.

'"Im a dance leader, not afraid of hard work, sweat or tears. Hopefully you can keep up." To the point, hyung.'

Hoseok shrugs.

'Why’ve you put so many emojis?'

'I wanted to soften the blow of the bio. They represent me. Sunshine, love-'

'-That pouty face you do when you want something…'

'Okay, I can sense you teasing me, stop.' Hoseok reaches for his phone, but Jimin simply extends his arms, blocking his attempt by turning away from him. 'Hey, give me my phone.'

Jimin ignores him, getting out of Hoseok’s lap and beginning to type something. Hoseok is quick to follow, chases him to the other side of the room and trying not to trip on any furniture as he goes. Jimin begins laughing, which is never a good sign.

'Jimin, don’t you dare-'

He manages to get hold of Jimin around his waist, pulling him back into the room and reaching for his phone around him. Jimin squirms, still giggling maniacally.

'You wanna talk to him, hyung!'

'I-' Hoseok tightens his grip as he feels Jimin begin to get away, he stretches for his phone, trying at the same time to read over Jimin’s shoulder, 'not like this. Give me it, you brat!'

Finally, he manages to clutch the phone from Jimin and quickly scurries to the corner of the room to read it as Jimin adjusts his hair and recovers himself. He reads the message, eyes going wide.

Hey big boy. You planning on making a move on me or do I need to bat my eyelashes first?

 

'Jimin!'

'What?'

'I can’t put that!'

'Why not?' Jimin shrugs, throwing himself back onto the sofa with ease. He’s smiling though, is obviously aware of what’s he’s doing. 'It’s just tinder.'

'It’s rude, for one.'

'Is not.'

'He’ll think I want to…'

'What?'

'You know…' Hoseok flushes as Jimin grins knowingly. Hoseok isn’t a prude, per sae, but when it comes to discussing these things with Jimin, who’s practically his little brother, he gets a little uncomfortable.

'Well, don’t you?'

'No!' Hoseok says quickly, before actually thinking about it. 'I mean yes, eventually, maybe. I don’t know.'

'So, message him and find out! He’s not going to magically decide to contact you the more you stare at his pictures. Just do it, hyung. Be assertive. Be Mr dance leader Jung rather than pouty face Jung.’

Hoseok pouts just to spite him. He kind of hates that he’s being told what to do by his dongsaeng, though hates even more that Jimin is actually making a fair point. To compensate, he resigns himself to his room to draft his own message.

Just before he shuts his door, he stops, reads Jimin’s message once more. The words Big Boy blink up at him.

'Jimin,' he calls down the hall, 'you don’t actually say stuff like this, do you?'

'How’d you think I got Taehyung to date me, hyung?' he calls back, sounding smug.

Hoseok smiles, shaking his head at how ridiculous his best friend is.

Once cuddled up in bed, Hoseok realises again how tricky drafting the perfect starter message is. Though he’d never admit it to Jimin, he does consider sending something slightly risqué. Not quite as bold as Jimin’s, but something a little flirty. He wishes, in moments like these, that he was funnier, or at least witty enough for unique, funny openers. His eyes keep roaming over Seokjin’s lobster picture; his weird, yet easy humour evident.

He bites his lip as he reads over Seokjin’s bio again, deciding finally on a relatively safe opener.

Hoseok

I’ll be honest, I’ve never had tortellini but a quick google search has told me it’s also known as belly button pasta and that makes me smile

It’s not the funniest or most inspired first message, but then Hoseok figures it’s better he worked with what Seokjin has given him than try an unrelated pick-up. He sits back, scrolls around on Instagram while he waits for a response. It strikes him after about five minutes that he may have set himself up for a corny, gross response from Seokjin, something along the lines of inviting him over to sample his ‘pasta’, but before he can worry about it, his phone is telling him Seokjin has replied.

Seokjin

Hi!

Wow, really? I didn’t know that!

It’s really good, I make it a lot

Huh. So far so safe.

Hoseok

Oh really?

You make it?

Seokjin

Yeah! I really like cooking

Hoseok

Are you good?

Seokjin

Well I don’t like to brag

But yes, I’m the best

I make tortellini armys

Hoseok

A bold statement

Seokjin

I mean I’d love to show you

But tinder doesn’t allow photo sharing because otherwise tinder would comprise of 99% dick pics and a very sad 1% tortellinis

Hoseok smiles, then bites his lip when he realises where the conversation is going. He quickly screenshots the conversation and sends it to Jimin.

Hoseok

[image attached]

What do I say!!!

Jimin

Tell him to fax it over. He obviously just wants you to come over and NOT eat his damn pasta

Well

He’ll probably have you eating

But it won’t be pasta

;)

Hoseok

-______-

Jimin

Maybe he’ll have you sample his penne

Hoseok

His penne?

Jimin

It’s the most phallic-shaped pasta I could think of alright

And you gotta admit it’s a good pun

Hoseok chooses to ignore him, though is charitable enough not to block him for the moment. He returns to tinder.

Hoseok

True

You could just fax them to me

Seokjin’s resounding silence makes Hoseok majorly regret the joke. He pushes for the left side of his brain to tell him he’s just overthinking it; there are a myriad of possible reasons Seokjin hasn’t given him an immediate answer. He can imagine Jimin scolding him for getting so worked up over such a short conversation, and the thought sobers him a little.

Sobers him enough to resign himself to watching YouTube videos and not checking his Tinder messages every five minutes, at least.

It’s a little later when Seokjin gets back to him. Hoseok is petty enough not to open the message immediately, instead allowing a few moments to pass before he does it. Jimin had taught him this trick too; something to avoid appearing too eager when appearances and reputations truly matter. These first moments are vital, Jimin always says.

Five minutes should do it, Hoseok thinks as he taps his way onto the tinder app.

Seokjin

Sorry, was working on a little something

Seokjin

[link]

Hoseok narrows his eyes at the link to a twitter page, wondering if perhaps Seokjin has sent him a funny video or picture, or else is simply trying to plug his own page. Curious, he opens the link.

He’s brought to a thread of pictures. Tortellini for Hoseok reads both the display name and the username of the Twitter account.

[Tweet one]

step 1: acquire the dough

Attached is a picture of the pasta dough, rolled in a ball.

[Tweet two]

step 2: establish rapport with the dough

Another picture of the dough, with a hand Hoseok assumes is Seokjin’s touching it gently, like a caress. Hoseok smiles.

[Tweet three]

step 3: betray the dough

The dough is now cut in half. Hoseok giggles, seeing where the thread is going.

[Tweet four]

step 4: tortellini army

The dough has been assembled into small, flat little squares, little balls of green filling in the centre of each one. The lightning is centred, a little dramatic, and Hoseok wonders with an amused grin whether that was intentional.

[Tweet five]

step 5: enjoy the fruits of your labour.

A bowl full of ready tortellini, covered in a light sauce and set down on a dining room table. Hoseok admits they look pretty good.

[Tweet six]

step 6: win his heart

It’s the final picture in the thread, a little blurry and easily Hoseok’s favourite. It shows a smiling Seokjin, looking soft, with a sweet kind of smugness. His eyebrows are raised, like the thread was a question and he’s waiting for an answer. Hoseok reads the caption on the last picture again.

Win his heart.

God, he’s charming.

Hoseok

That was an experience

Seokjin

Good experience?

It took me a minute to figure out how twitter works so I really hope it was

Hoseok

It was very cute

I liked it

Did you have those pictures ready?

Seokjin

Oh good

Yeah haha

Although the selfie was new. Just for you

Hoseok can’t stop smiling as he gears up to channel every ounce of Jimin’s wit and confidence for his next message.

Hoseok

I’m honoured

I’m still a little unsure about the recipe though

Seokjin

Oh?

Hoseok

Yeah

Some things just don’t translate well online

Seokjin

I agree

Which step did you find issue with?

Hoseok

Number 6

Maybe you should show me in person?

Seokjin

I think we can arrange that

My place?

I promise to keep my intentions purely pasta-focused

Hoseok

I should hope so

A large part of him means it, though there’s the little, nagging part (the part that has been particularly enamoured by Seokjin’s charm up to now) that hopes his intentions will stretch past pasta.

Hoseok has done this part before. This is far from the first time he’s stood outside a guy’s (a stranger’s, he reminds himself harshly; he can’t believe how desensitised the world is to this stuff now) place, steadying his rapidly beating heart before he rings the buzzer. Seokjin had assured him he’d meet him at the door, save him taking the awkward ride up the lift alone, but Hoseok still hasn’t texted him to announce his arrival. He needs a minute, his breathing a little unsteady since he got off the bus, and he’d rather not be flushed when he sees Seokjin in person for the first time.

It’s been over three weeks since they matched, their schedules only just this week aligning and allowing them to fit one another in. In truth, Hoseok had expected their plans to fall through in that time, but Seokjin has been good at keeping up conversation. He’s texted him at least once a day, often just a quick ‘how are you’ with a cute smiley face. They’re yet to really get to know each other beyond silly trivial things that come up in everyday chat; just last night they’d playfully bickered over ice-cream flavours.

By all accounts, Seokjin has proved himself to be funny, down-to-earth, and kind. Hoseok is still hesitant to put expectations on the table, but at the same time it’s been two weeks since he spoke to anyone else on tinder, a fact he doesn’t want to spend too much time thinking about. 

Hoseok takes one more deep, relieving breath, checks himself in the reflection of the glass door, and presses the buzzer. It rings thrice, and then a male voice speaks through it.

‘Hello?’

‘Seokjin-ssi? It’s Hoseok.’

Hoseok has taken to calling Seokjin hyung over text, after being given the permission pretty early on, but it seems strange to say it now, when they’re only really just meeting.

‘Hey! I’ll be down in one second!’

His voice is gentler than Hoseok had expected, not dearly as deep either. Not exactly high, simply a comforting middle ground. Perhaps Hoseok has just been overthinking what he’d sound like. He wonders if Seokjin has been imagining his voice, whether he’s thinking things along the same line as he makes his way downstairs.

Hoseok is fidgeting by the time Seokjin gets to the door, rocking on his feet to keep him from wondering how Seokjin could have imagined him.

Seokjin looks good; a simple, form-fitting sweater and tight black jeans making him look effortlessly cool. His hair is blond now, and Hoseok thanks the heavens he’d received a picture not too long ago that alerted him to the fact, because had he been surprised with it, he might have keeled over. Of course, seeing it in person is still a new wonder, but at least his mouth doesn’t fall open.

Another crucial thing he notes, the thing that Jimin will absolutely want to hear about in more detail, is the width of Seokjin’s shoulders. Again, it’s something he’d known from the picture of Seokjin’s bareback from his profile, but Hoseok is starting to think that a phone screen really, really could never do this guy justice. He just has to gawp at the way they fill out the sweater so snugly, without making it look too small or tight. The way it hugs his waist, too, smaller by far in comparison to the chest region, it’s almost perfect. Suddenly, Hoseok wishes he hadn’t worn the large shirt he’d chosen this morning. He quickly checks to make sure it’s still tucked into his jeans, that his small waist is still shown off like Jimin had reminded him.

Basking in all of Seokjin’s glory, Hoseok might have been intimidated, had it not been for the bright smile that Seokjin sends his way when he sees him through the glass, eyes crinkling. Hoseok beams back and, stuck for something else to do with his hands as Seokjin makes his way to let Hoseok in, gives him an awkward little wave, which Seokjin returns as he pulls the door open.

They stay smiling for a moment while Seokjin ushers him inside.

‘Hi,’ Hoseok says, a little stiffly. These experiences are never easy at the start, but he can usually blast through the worst of the awkwardness for the sake of them both; taking on a loud, bright persona that serves to break the ice long enough for them to get to what they’re both there for.

But with Seokjin, he’s been considering the possibility he might have to approach it differently. Seokjin isn’t overtly flirty, or at least hasn’t been over text. Though he’s expressed interest in Hoseok, asserting his excitement for their date, calling Hoseok pretty or cute whenever he sends him a selfie, it’s been distinctly different this time. It hasn’t felt like a lead up to sex, more a lead up to… something else. Hoseok isn’t quite sure. Jimin would tell him to simply go with the flow, but Jimin is more confident than him. Jimin is also a romantic; capable with both sides of these kinds of relationships. Hoseok barely has a grasp on sex; every time he thinks he has he feels it changes.

‘Hey,’ Seokjin greets him, pointing to the lift just down the hall. ‘Uh, this way.’

Hoseok goes to follow him.

‘Oh, you can call me hyung, by the way,’ Seokjin says with a little laugh, ‘I forgot to say.’

‘Thanks,’ Hoseok says, each smile Seokjin sends his way soothing him little by little, ‘hyung.’

Seokjin’s flat is nice; spacious and clean, which Hoseok appreciates. He wonders if Seokjin is typically so tidy, or whether he’d taken Hoseok’s telling him his rigorous cleaning and organisational habits as a challenge.

‘Your place is cute,’ Hoseok says, admiring the framed Kingsman poster on the wall, the shelves lined with games and movies and little figures. ‘I love that movie.’

‘It’s kind of empty,’ Seokjin says, sheepishly glancing around his living room. ‘but I like it. And we can watch it later, if you want, after your lesson.’

Seokjin takes him straight through to the kitchen. Laid out on the marble-top island is an array of ingredients; a bag of flour, eggs, little labelled pots of spices, a tub of soft cheese.

Also set up on the counter is a large mental instrument that looks rather a lot like a weapon of torture, but Hoseok figures if Seokjin was going to do something cruel and unusual to him, he might have restrained him by now.

‘So, we’re actually making pasta, then,’ he says, eyeing up the machine.

‘We can do something else if you want to!’ Seokjin says quickly. ‘Order in and watch the movie, or-’

‘No, it’s fine!’ Hoseok asserts, just as fast. ‘Pasta is good, I’m excited!’ Hoseok rolls up his sleeves, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. ‘Where do I start?’

Seokjin laughs at that, matching Hoseok by rolling up his own sleeves. ‘Eager.’

‘I want to make an army.’ Hoseok puts on a serious face.

‘And then devour that army?’ Seokjin is smiling.

‘“Enjoy the fruits of my labour,”’ Hoseok recites, remembering it from Seokjin’s twitter thread. Though he won’t tell Seokjin this, at least not right away, he’s been looking over the thread for the past few weeks, smiling as brightly at it as he had the first time. He always seems to get stuck on the last picture, the one that makes him smile brightest of all.

Seokjin laughs, a bright, squeaky laugh that Hoseok had not expected from him. It’s a little self-conscious, a little held back, and Hoseok is sure he catches a faint pink blush on the tips of Seokjin’s ears before he turns quickly to grab two aprons from the hook on the back of the door. Hoseok feels his own face flush and quickly fans his face before Seokjin notices.

He realises this is futile once Seokjin has turned back towards him, bringing one of the aprons up and over Hoseok’s head. They both smile shyly at each other as he does it, only just catching each other’s eyes for a quick moment. Hoseok ducks his head once Seokjin is done, reading the older’s apron.

‘“Kiss the cook.” Intentional?’ He can hear Jimin squealing in his head, and instantly regrets bringing it up. 

He looks up, notices the tips of Seokjin’s ears are now a more definite red. Okay, maybe he doesn’t regret it quite so much.

‘Maybe subconsciously,’ Hoseok thinks he hears Seokjin whisper.

They’re a little quiet as Seokjin goes to the sink to wash his hands. Hoseok waits his turn, leans back against the island counter and takes in the room. Shiny pots and pans line the wall above the flat top stove, and two whole racks of knives in various sizes sit beside a thick hardwood chopping board, so big it appears it takes permanent residency in that area of the kitchen. It’s one of those kitchens that aren’t just there for necessity; it’s stocked in a way that suggests Seokjin likes to spend his time in here. 

‘Do you cook for a living?’ Hoseok asks when Seokjin steps aside to let him at the sink. It’s strange, for all the pictures he’s sent Seokjin of himself in the dance studio where he works part-time, the record shop where he makes up the rest of his weekly hours, what Seokjin does has never really come up. He’s complained about work, but never with much more detail than bitching about his ‘moronic’ co-workers.

‘I wish,’ Seokjin says, with a wistful sigh, ‘that’d be so cool. I just like cooking.’

‘What do you do?’ Hoseok turns, holding out his dripping hands awkwardly. 

Seokjin immediately hands him a tea towel. ‘I work in compliance.’

‘Compliance?’

Seokjin smiles. ‘I make sure the company I work for is upholding all the national and international laws it needs to. Plus all the right business standards and practices.’

‘Oh, cool!’ Hoseok says, stuck for any other reaction.

‘You can say it’s boring. I know it’s boring,’ Seokjin says, laughing when Hoseok looks at him sheepishly.

‘Do you enjoy it?’

Seokjin shrugs. ‘A job is a job. I have other stuff that I enjoy.’

Intrigued, Hoseok goes to ask what exactly it is that Seokjin does, but is quickly side-tracked when Seokjin moves back to the island counter and claps his hands together.

‘Ready?’ he says, excitement in his eyes when he turns to look at Hoseok.

Hoseok steps forward, a little more hesitant than Seokjin. He’s not a terrible cook, but if Seokjin is apparently so proficient, it puts a little more pressure on things. ‘If I mess this up, I’ll get us a pizza,’ he promises.

Seokjin snorts, pushing a large glass bowl towards him. Hoseok flushes a little as their arms brush together. ‘And when you don’t mess it up, I promise I won’t eat it all.’

Hoseok beams at Seokjin’s confidence in him.

As it turns out, there’s a little more to making pasta than Seokjin’s twitter thread has suggested. The ‘acquiring the dough’ step, for one, requires actually making the dough, which Hoseok has never done before. Seokjin walks him through it, instructing him as he measures out the flour in metal measuring cups, adds it to the bowl along with salt. He lets Hoseok create a well in the dry ingredients, though Hoseok feels nervous even at such a simple action.

When Seokjin offers him an egg to crack into the bowl, Hoseok panics. Very few times has he made eggs without just the least bit of shell, but he gives it a go. It takes him a few goes to actually crack it, his instincts telling him to be gentle. He ends up with shell swimming around in the white, of course. He’s thankful when Seokjin scoops it out with ease.

He lets Seokjin crack the other two, is quite honestly a little mesmerised when he manages to crack both in one hand, at the same time. Seokjin smiles when he looks up, seeing Hoseok gawping at him with his mouth slightly parted.

‘That was cool,’ he says, lamely. He stopped worrying about what was really cool and what was not when he was around eighteen, but now he feels all those years of teenage desperation to impress rushing back.

It’s needless, though, he quickly discovers, because a simple, modest smile from Seokjin is enough to remind him that there’s no reason to be so nervous about impressing.

‘It’s a worthless talent,’ he says, shrugging. He moves away for a moment to grab a whisk from one of the drawers, and then comes back to look over the mixture.

‘Well, I liked it.’

‘Do you have a party trick?’

‘Don’t need one. My dancing usually keeps people pretty entertained.’

‘I bet,’ Seokjin says, a little lower than Hoseok was expecting. Lower than Seokjin was expecting too, apparently, if the immediate flush of his cheeks is anything to go by. He gives a sheepish smile, like he’s said too much in just two words, then ducks his head to look into the bowl.

 Hoseok can see how round his cheeks are from this angle, and feels his heart give a jolt. Has he always been this attracted to shy guys? What is it about Seokjin that makes blushing so overwhelmingly cute to him?

‘Huh, looks like I got shell in it too.’

‘Well then, that is a worthless talent. I guess you suck too,’ Hoseok teases, smiling with fake smugness as he takes the whisk from Seokjin’s hand as the older man pretends to be offended. ‘Can I mix?’

Quickly recovering himself, Seokjin makes a gesture at the mixture. ‘Please. Just the eggs to start, then slowly combine them with the flour.’

Hoseok starts of slow, careful to do as Seokjin has instructed. He feels his eyebrows furrow as he concentrates, but finds he doesn’t feel so embarrassed about it, focuses instead on combining the eggs together and then, with Seokjin’s go-ahead, bringing the flour into them.

It’s quiet for a minute, the pair of them watching as the mixture begins to thicken up. The moment is only disrupted when Seokjin suddenly reaches out to touch Hoseok’s arm. It’s just the lightest of touches, the tips of his fingers against the bare skin below his elbow, but still, Hoseok isn’t expecting it and he jumps, and Seokjin immediately jerks his hand back.

‘Sorry- I just- Um, you can go a little faster.’

‘Oh.’ Hoseok speeds up. ‘It’s okay,’ he adds, in a smaller voice, feeling silly.

‘Okay.’ Seokjin waits another moment before he tentatively reaches for Hoseok’s arm again, this time to slow his movements, directing him into making his mixing gentler again. Hoseok doesn’t say anything, and Seokjin doesn’t remove his hand until it’s time to knead.

Hoseok lets Seokjin tackle this bit, nervous to be hands-on with the mixture. He watches carefully as Seokjin spreads flour over his worktop, begins to softly fold the dough in on itself, over and over. It’s still soft, and Seokjin is careful with it, his own face a mirror of Hoseok’s earlier concentration as he works. It’s then that Hoseok notices the natural pout of Seokjin’s lips, getting a little lost by the fullness of them, the way his lower one hangs down like it’s too heavy, opening up the part in his mouth, the perfect shape of it-

‘You see how it’s firmed up?’ Seokjin says suddenly, and Hoseok has to shake himself a little before he answers with a nod. ‘Now we can knead it.’

Rolling up his sleeves again, pushing them up to his elbow, Seokjin leans into the dough and begins the process of kneading. Apparently, every step, when performed by Seokjin, at least, is memorising, because Hoseok just can’t take his eyes away from the strong, sturdy arms as they work into the pasta. He tilts his head as he focuses on the taught line of muscle as it tenses and relaxes again, every so often looking up to make sure Seokjin hasn’t caught him gawping.

‘You mind sprinkling some flour on the counter?’

‘Sure.’ Hoseok is glad for something to do, sprinkles a fair amount of flour over the surface when Seokjin lifts the dough in his hands.

‘Thanks.’

‘You’re good at that,’ Hoseok comments, once Seokjin is back to it.

Seokjin throws him a finger heart in response. Hoseok notices the way his muscle shifts as he does it. ‘Do you work out?’ he blurts. He bites the inside of his cheek. He’d meant it to sound more casual than that.

‘I do,’ Seokjin says, looking up and smiling at the obvious embarrassment in Hoseok’s face. ‘My arms look good, right?’

Hoseok’s first reaction is to splutter at Seokjin’s sudden confidence, but, giving credit where credit is due, he nods.

They leave the dough to rest once the kneading is done, and they make the filling together. It’s a less strenuous process; less opportunity to get stuff wrong, and so Hoseok feels a little freer to chat away while they do it. It’s silly, unimportant stuff they chat about; Hoseok finds that Seokjin can talk a mile a minute if given half the chance, and it’s nice to hear him babbling and making jokes. He wishes he could hold back with just how hard he laughs, but there’s something about Seokjin that has him doubled over in giggles.

A lot of the time, Seokjin’s jokes go over his head, but it’s his confidence, the speed at which he fires them out, his tone, that makes him really funny. He’s animated, as well as quick, and his humour is light, silly. Hoseok likes the way that they both seem to laugh after most sentences, like once they get into that mood, everything is funny.

The filling prepared, Seokjin is keen to have Hoseok help once the dough is rested. He gives him the choice of handling the dough into the scary-looking machine, or turning the crank. He goes with the crank, turning it steadily to flatten the pasta as Seokjin carefully feeds the dough through.

It gives Hoseok the opportunity to admire Seokjin’s hands this time, is unsurprised to find them just as captivating as the rest of him. Hoseok rather thinks he’s never met someone so beautiful, yet so freely goofy and at times, shy and self-conscious. They’re not qualities he’d set out for, really; he’s usually the bright one, equally the one who ducks away from praise. He uses the two together, has found a rhythm in covering up his own self-consciousness. He can see the way Seokjin will cover up his embarrassment sometimes with an exuberant giggle, mostly because he knows that’s exactly what he’d do too. It’s nice, seeing it as something so endearing, because there are times Hoseok questions it in himself.

‘Hey? Did you hear me?’

Hoseok shakes his head, then looks to see that they’ve almost finished rolling the pasta. He needs to stop zoning out. There’s something about Seokjin’s general being that makes it difficult to stay in the moment.

‘Sorry. daydreaming.’

‘Yah, am I boring?’ It’s light-hearted enough that he’s still smiling, but still, Hoseok rushes to defend himself.

‘No! I was just… thinking about… something.’

Seokjin raises his eyebrow in question.

‘It’s nothing!’

Seokjin pouts. ‘Already keeping secrets,’ he tuts, laying out the prepared dough and wiping his hands on his apron. ‘Bad start to the relationship.’

The ease of his teasing surprises Hoseok, but feels nice all the same. This is what he’d wanted. Someone to have fun with, someone to tease him and make him laugh. He rarely feels these butterflies so far into a first date; by now he’s usually considering all the ways he could skip right to sex or get the hell away. He’s never wanted to just… be around someone so much, for so long. He feels himself blush, for what must be the fiftieth time today, and before he can overthink the idea, brings his arms around Seokjin’s torso.

‘Sorry, hyung,’ he says with a pout, then laughs to cover up the awkwardness. It is a bit weird, doesn’t quite feel natural to do this yet, but it’s okay. He’s never had much of a problem with physical contact; prefers it to actually telling a person how he feels for them, and he’s always acting cute to get out of things (Jimin always says Hoseok would ace a court hearing). Still, it’s always hit and miss how it’ll be perceived, and Hoseok has no idea whether Seokjin is a hugger or not.

At first, he looks lost for words, the sound he makes being a quick little ‘oof’. Hoseok starts to panic, but as though he can sense it, Seokjin quickly recovers himself to turn in Hoseok’s grasp so they’re face to face. Hoseok loosens his grip just a little, and Seokjin pats him on the back. ‘I think we’ll survive it.’

Hoseok, quite flushed by this point, giggles shyly before moving away. The air is still a little awkward, but flushed too with anticipation. Seokjin’s body had been warm, strong but somehow soft beneath his touch, and Hoseok chest gives a lurch at the prospect of hugging him again, maybe being hugged back properly this time, maybe offering something more…

Stay in the moment, he reminds himself, just in time for Seokjin to start cutting the dough into little circles. Hoseok helps, though he’s a lot slower and more cautious, and ends up making probably only a quarter of their ready wrappers.

Adding the filling, too, proves difficult for Hoseok. He watches Seokjin for a guide, but still feels like he’s messing up when it comes to wrapping it up. He can’t quite get the little bonnet shape right, when Seokjin does it so effortlessly with such deft fingers. Hoseok clicks his tongue, swears under his breath.

‘Try adding less filling,’ Seokjin suggests when he glances over to Hoseok’s pile of pasta, noticeably smaller and much less neat than his own. ‘Too much and it’ll all just spill out.’

Hoseok nods, does as he’s told. It’s a little easier to fold, but Hoseok bites his lip when he worries that this tortellini might be more pasta than filling, and glances over at Seokjin again. He’s slowed down a little, and Hoseok wonders if he’s giving him the opportunity to catch up. Probably futile, since Hoseok is already way, way behind, but he appreciates it.

‘Here,’ Seokjin says when Hoseok huffs. He’s trying really hard to keep from swearing, but the pasta he’d just tried to fold over has ripped, the filling is leaking onto his hand, and it’s frustrating.

Seokjin quickly discards the wasted ingredients, and wipes Hoseok hands gently with a paper towel. It’s something Hoseok could definitely do on his own, but he can’t find it within himself to complain when it makes Seokjin step closer to him, one hand gripping his wrist lightly, pulling it to him so he can wipe the mess from his hand. In truth, it’s probably more than what’s necessary, but Hoseok lets him do it.

‘I’m not good at this,’ Hoseok admits, like it needs to be said.

‘You’ll get better,’ Seokjin replies as he attempts to salvage the failed tortellini. It’s beyond help, but Hoseok appreciates him trying anyway. ‘You can show me your dance after this, if you want. For the ego boost.’

All Hoseok can do is nod, the thought of dancing for Seokjin a little overwhelming, somehow. Maybe he just has a dirty mind.

The pasta is… Well, it’s okay. There’s a considerable difference in Hoseok’s tortellini, and the ones made by Seokjin. True to Seokjin’s warning, the ones Hoseok overstuffed are pretty messy when they’re taken out of the pan, while the ones he was more cautious with are really pasta heavy. Still, Hoseok notices that Seokjin piles his plate with his failed pasta, rather than his own, and that makes him happy. He sticks with Seokjin’s; they’re as perfect as they were in the twitter thread picture and taste just as good as he’d imagined they would.

‘I think maybe I should stick to dancing,’ Hoseok says through a mouthful. He’s watching Seokjin dissect one of his tortellini to find a glob of filling inside no bigger than a pea. Another piece has completely burst; just a mush of pasta, cheese and the olive oil Seokjin had drizzled over their bowls.

Seokjin looks up to find Hoseok watching him, his face scrunched up. The older man smirks, the expression tight, like he’s trying to hold himself back. All it takes is a small grin from Hoseok for him to burst out laughing, and together they fill the room with loud, squeaky laughter.

Seokjin sticks on the movie while they eat. He talks along with iconic lines, plays along whenever the actors do something cool. When the church scene begins, and Colin Firth begins his massacre, he clutches Hoseok’s arm with excitement, and Hoseok bounces along with him as they watch and cheer (or, in Hoseok’s case, hide their eyes and squeal at all the blood).

Once they’re done, Seokjin grabs their plates and sets them on the coffee table to deal with later. The way he leans back, legs a little spread with his head against the sofa cushions, has Hoseok wanting to curl into him. It’d be so easy to fit; Hoseok is shorter than Seokjin, could fit his face into his neck quite comfortably. He’s less broad too, and Seokjin could wrap one of his long arms around his shoulders with ease, probably. Hoseok tries to be subtle about the way he admires Seokjin’s waist, small like his own, imagining himself pressed into it.

‘Are you cold?’ Seokjin asks, suddenly glancing at him. ‘I can turn the heating up?’

‘Hm?’ Only then does Hoseok realise how awkwardly he’s sitting, a little curled into himself. He loosens up self-consciously. ‘I’m okay.’

Seokjin looks a little wary, but smiles and nods, looks back to the movie. Hoseok can’t help but feel a little disheartened, wondering how he can get what he wants without asking.

He’s struck, then, when Seokjin shifts a little to stretch, bringing himself closer to Hoseok in the process, and lays his arm across the back of the sofa. It’s an old move, but Hoseok likes that. Likes that it leaves no question about intention.

Trying not to think too much about it, Hoseok leans back against the sofa, his hands laced together in his lap. He can feel the way Seokjin’s wrist touches his hair ever so slightly as he wiggles to get comfortable. Their knees brush, once, twice, and Seokjin looks at him. He looks just about as nervous as Hoseok feels.

‘Okay?’

Hoseok gives him a hesitant smile, leans in a little closer.

‘You can put your feet up, if you want,’ Seokjin tells him.

Hoseok does so, folding his legs under himself with his feet to the side. The action tilts him into Seokjin, one of his arms now trapped against Seokjin’s side, and Hoseok blushes. They stay like that for the moment, and though Hoseok’s eyes remain on the tv, most of the film passes by in a blur. All he can concentrate on is the warmth beside him, the clean, fresh smell of Seokjin that’s mingled with some kind of fruit Hoseok can’t work out.

He tries to remain as still as he can when Seokjin shifts again, under the guise of growing more comfortable, and his arm falls from the back of the sofa to rest against Hoseok’s shoulders. The accidentally-on-purpose action makes it a little awkward, but Seokjin manages to recover himself. He holds his arm in such a way that implies he’s resisting pulling Hoseok closer into him, not even willing to let all of the weight rest on him. His hesitancy is sweet, but Hoseok wishes he could somehow just tell him to relax.

He glances around the room, looking for inspiration. Then, like he’d planned it from the start, he sees his phone resting over on the other side of the sofa, where he’d been sitting before, and gets struck with an idea.

He’s quick enough that Seokjin won’t lean away, but just to make sure his plan works, he grabs Seokjin’s hand where it’s hanging off the edge of his shoulder, pulls it so it’s sitting more firmly against him, and leans over to grab the phone. Then, he leans back, further into Seokjin’s side than before, still holding his hand to keep his arm around him. The action is fast, subtle, would barely be thought about if they were a couple; he’s just steadying himself against Seokjin, nothing to be thought about. But right now, with it being so new, it’s poignant. An invitation, permission.

Hoseok says nothing, releases his hand once he’s sure Seokjin won’t pull away, and heaves an internal sigh of relief when the arm curls around him more comfortably, less tense and cautious.

They don’t look at each other, don’t acknowledge the change in anything more than a light laugh, easily played off when timed with the film. Slowly, they grow even more comfortable, and Hoseok lets his head occupy the space between Seokjin’s neck and shoulder, and when Seokjin leans a little to the side, he holds Hoseok against him with his free arm, so he moves with him.

They watch films for the rest of the afternoon. Sometimes they talk, but it’s mostly about what they’re watching. They don’t mention their position, the way Hoseok has a hand resting innocently on the inside of Seokjin’s thigh, the way Seokjin’s cheek is resting against Hoseok’s head, every so often turning to press his lips against his scalp. They don’t mention any of that.

They don’t even mention when Hoseok should be heading home, until Jimin finally texts him, asking for an update.

‘I should go,’ Hoseok says, wistfully, glancing at the window and realising it’s starting to grow dark. He quickly texts Jimin, knowing a lack of reply would worry him. He’d given Jimin Seokjin’s address, the protocol every time he went on one of these dates (perhaps, though, Hoseok wouldn’t lump this particular date in the same category), and Hoseok really wouldn’t appreciate him bursting into the flat right now.

‘Sure,’ Seokjin says, though he doesn’t let go of Hoseok until the younger starts to get up.

He feels a little stiff, not haven gotten up for a couple of hours, but he doesn’t regret it. Not even a little.

‘I can drive you home, if you want?’

Hoseok shakes his head, smiling gratefully. ‘It’s okay, I can bus it.’

‘Sure?’ Seokjin says, springing up from his seat. ‘I can drop you off a street away, if you’re embarrassed to be seen with me.’ He smiles playfully.

Giggling, Hoseok whacks Seokjin lightly on the arm, nods. There’s a moment when he thinks they’re going to kiss, prepares himself for it, holds his breath for a moment and evens his footing, but then Seokjin is turning away to grab his jacket and keys, and Hoseok lets out the breath, disappointed.

He’s a little less disappointed when Seokjin offers him a coat to go home in, the air suddenly so much colder than it had been in the early afternoon. He offers a plain, denim jacket, but Hoseok’s eyes catch on the fluffy pink one from his tinder profile, sitting on the hook, and Seokjin lets him have it. He holds it up for him while Hoseok sticks his arms through, then turns him around to zip it up. It’s unnecessary, really, Hoseok has two working hands, but he still lets it happen. Once he’s all zipped up, he puckers his lips ever so slightly, waiting for the kiss that doesn’t come.

He does, however, get a warm hand on the small of his back as Seokjin leads him through the building and down to his car, so that’s something.

The ride breezes past, the pair of them talking the whole way. Seokjin turns on the radio to start, but turns it down to be practically inaudible so he can hear what Hoseok’s saying. They chat about nothing in particular, and Seokjin cuts across with jokes that has Hoseok straining against his seat belt to laugh at.

A couple of times, when Seokjin is really concentrating on the roads, Hoseok lets himself stare. Like the rest of him, Seokjin’s side profile is pretty much perfect. If they were perhaps a little more comfortable with each other, Hoseok would run his finger along the slope of Seokjin’s nose, maybe tickle under his jaw to make him laugh.

He sighs quietly. Maybe they’ll get there, someday.

He doesn’t even realise they’re at his place until Seokjin stops the car.

‘Sorry it’s not ‘round the corner,’ Seokjin says, with a breezy laugh.

Hoseok giggles again. ‘Thanks.’

Seokjin nods, tapping his hands against the wheel. ‘I had a lot of fun today.’

‘Me too,’ Hoseok says. It’s awkward again, and he feels the itch to deal with it again. But he’s stuck. The movement here isn’t clear; there’s no way to force what he wants to do. He bites his lip, wondering how best to leave it. He wonders if Seokjin is having the same battle, or whether his tapping is signalling his impatience for Hoseok’s leaving.

Regardless, Hoseok does have to leave at some point. When he’s sure Seokjin isn’t going to lean over and kiss him, he does it himself. He plants a fairly safe kiss on Seokjin’s cheek, lips smacking against his warm skin, and pulls back. ‘Call me.’

It’s a shot of adrenaline that gets him out of the car. He can imagine Jimin cheering as he does it. Leave him wanting more. He’d be pleased with himself, if he didn’t also want more then he’d given. The adrenaline quickly becomes a sinking feeling as he walks to the door of his building, his composure only kept up with the knowledge that Seokjin is still watching him.

‘Hey, Hoseok!’

Hoseok freezes, turns. Seokjin is lightly jogging to catch him up. More than watching, then.

‘Hey, I just-’ he motions loosely with his hands.

‘Shit, sorry,’ Hoseok says, quickly remembering his coat. He starts to unzip it, but Seokjin stops him, his large covering Hoseok’s completely.

‘No, it’s not that.’

Hoseok drops his hand, and Seokjin’s follows. Hoseok looks down at them in question, watches as Seokjin ever so gently turns his hand so that their palms press, their fingers just barely threading together. Very naturally, like completing a mirror image, their other hands do the same, holding each other loosely. Hoseok looks up at Seokjin, hopefully.

‘It looks good on you.’ Seokjin’s voice is quieter than Hoseok’s heard it today, and it’s a mark of how close they are that he can hear it on the busy street.

‘I can’t just take your jacket,’ Hoseok points out. Though I would, he adds in his head, it’s so soft.

‘Keep it ‘til the next time.’

‘Next time? You wanna make tortellini with me again?’

Seokjin laughs, takes a step closer, so their chests are up against each other.

‘Maybe something else. Italy has a whole lot of pasta you know.’

Hoseok smiles. They look at other for a moment, their eyes both asking for permission at the same time. Seokjin opens his mouth, like he’s about to say something, so Hoseok pushes forward before he can. He waits until he can feel Seokjin push back, ever so gently, before he deepens it. Their lips easily find a rhythm, even through the smiles neither of them can quite seem to shake. Seokjin must have snuck a mint in the car, because when Hoseok swirls his tongue in his mouth, he can taste it.

It’s a quiet, short kiss, one that leaves the promise of more, and as much as Hoseok wants not to part, he thinks it’s just about the best place they could leave the day.

With a final squeeze of Seokjin’s hands in his, he moves to leave again.

‘Okay, I really do need to go now.’

Seokjin’s smile is a little crooked, his eyes soft as he nods, and Hoseok finds himself inclined to kiss him again, but he holds himself back enough to walk away. He can’t quite keep from glancing over his shoulder, to watch the way Seokjin walks backwards to his car, waving him off. Hoseok giggles when he trips a little, waves back just as he enters his building. Just before he’s out of sight, he catches the hand kiss Seokjin blows him, and ducks his head immediately to hide the blush on his cheeks.

‘How was he?’ is Jimin’s first question when Hoseok is in the door. His voice is quieter than Hoseok expected, and once he’s kicked off his shoes and made his way inside, he finds Taehyung asleep in his lap, his dark hair pushed off his face with a headband.

‘Good,’ Hoseok whispers back, unzipping Seokjin’s jacket and taking it off, only to then cuddle it to his chest. It smells just like him. He’ll press his face up against it when Jimin isn’t looking, just the once.

‘Is that his coat?’

Hoseok smiles shyly, nods.

‘Wow.’ He seems impressed. ‘It’s cute. You look good in pink. So, you’ll be seeing him again, then?’

I hope so, Hoseok answers with surety in his mind. To Jimin, he simply shrugs.

After all, he thinks with a smile as he makes his way to his bedroom, he knows better than to get ahead of himself with a tinder boy.