[oneshot] the morning after
Title: the morning after
Pairing: GTOP
Rating: PG
Genre: au, crack, humor
Warnings: swearing
Author: gdgdbaby
Notes: for chapagetti anon @ kpfw_ss ! not sure if she wanted to unanon haha :D
It’s that time of year again.
Seunghyun hates it, because it always results in mass depletion of money from both their bank accounts (there is still no explicable reason for this occurrence, except that Jiyong possibly snatches his credit card sometime throughout the course of the day) and because it means waking up at an ungodly hour to feed Jiyong’s insane need to power shop.
One day, he swears he’s going to handcuff the kid to his headboard and throw the key away. After Thanksgiving lunch and dinner, he wants his beauty sleep, he wants to be lazy, he wants to digest, dammit.
But this year, it’s way too late, because something shaped like his roommate is shaking Seunghyun’s bed and jumping up and down and tugging hard at the roots of his hair.
“Do you want me start balding early?” he croaks furiously into the darkness of the body pillow he’s hugging. “Or are you just looking to die?”
Jiyong ignores him, starts clanging pots and pans together, the cacophony ringing through layers of fluffy down smashed over his head.
“Dude, it’s Black Friday and Sephora has that, like, amazing 75% off thing every year. You are not making me late. I can’t miss this. I can’t.”
“Fuck off” is Seunghyun’s reply, flipping over to the cool side of the mattress.
Jiyong pokes at his sides, thin hands tunneling through piles of blanket. “At least I didn’t make you camp out like last November-”
“Thank the Lord-”
“-and the least you could do is accompany me.” There’s a break in Jiyong’s attempted tickling and Seunghyun knows he’s sitting on the bed and pouting. “You can, I don’t know, sleep on one of the clearance beds at Sears while I make runs for Frullati?”
He opens his mouth to throw out a “hell no, bitch” and dive under the covers again, but the stupid idiot manages to procure a slice of lemon from out of nowhere, shove it in his half-open mouth and squeeze.
“HOLY FUCK-”
Seunghyun jumps out of bed, gangly limbs thwacking against his bookshelf and knocking over his old limited-edition Michael Jackson figurine. It falls off the shelf, and his eyes watch it go down as if in slow motion. The head snaps off with a sickening crack.
“We’ll,” Jiyong squeaks out. “We’ll buy you a new one?”
- -
This is how it always plays out - him, about to blow a gasket, and Jiyong shuffling him out the door at o’dark hundred, laden with fold-up lawn chairs and empty bags, before he can break anything of Jiyong’s.
“You’re paying me back.” Seunghyun’s hands spasm against the steering wheel. “I don’t care what you say, we’re spending the afternoon combing through all the antique shops on P Avenue, got it?”
He honks the horn in frustration. “Why won’t the goddamn car in front of us move?”
“Calm the road rage and stop memorizing their license plate numbers,” Jiyong mutters, stylus moving back and forth across the screen of his palm pilot. “Use that brain for better things, like getting us to the mall.”
“Not my fault you decided to short-circuit it so early in the morning,” he replies bitterly.
Jiyong snorts. “Lay off the butthurt.” He disregards the sudden snap of Seunghyun’s neck as he turns abruptly to glare at him. “Because of you, all our plans for the day are suddenly squashed in before noon.”
“Because of me?” Seunghyun squawks. “Our plans?”
“Shut up when I’m trying to arrange this shit.” Jiyong hits the stereo buttons at random and suddenly music is blasting.
“Throw your hands in the air, and wave ‘em like you just don’t care! We need a club banger, we need a club banger-”
Seunghyun’s head is bobbing in tempo and Jiyong glances at him sideways. “What?”
“You know, this guy’s voice sounds a lot like yours. Is there something you’re not telling me?” He groans as Jiyong’s eyes examine him through thin slits.
“Yes, I’m secretly some Korean hip hop rapper guy who also happens to go to your university and rooms with you in America.” He fixes his gaze back on the road, swerving to pass several other slow-moving vehicles. “People also tell me I sound like Chuck Bass.”
“Definitely not as sexy,” Jiyong mumbles under his breath.
“Don’t even start,” Seunghyun says ominously, and turns the bass beat up.
- -
“Isn’t it such a beautiful day?” Jiyong skips forward and breathes in deeply.
“Yeah, maybe I’d think so, if I could see it.” He turns around and watches as Seunghyun totters behind him, loaded down with bags and boxes that hide his face.
“Bitch, moan, bitch, moan,” Jiyong snaps. “You think you have it so hard. Think about the poor people in Africa who have nothing to eat or drink. Ah, set everything down here.”
Seunghyun complies, dumping the cargo across the grassy area in front of Sears and setting up the lawn chairs and umbrellas. “What-fucking-ever, Jiyong. If you really cared about third-world-countries, you’d take all this money you save up each year and donate it to Doctors Without Borders or something.”
“Blasphemy, man,” he says without missing a beat. “By buying all this Nike and stuff, I’m paying every little African child in their factories.”
Seunghyun collapses onto one of the chairs and puts his head in his hands. “You’re terrible.”
Jiyong shrugs in agreement and checks his watch, surveys the building before facing him again. “Just think about it. I’m saving us so much money by getting all the good deals now!”
“You can’t save money unless you spend it,” Seunghyun quips, wrapping a warm blanket around himself as Jiyong prepares to enter the fray. “Don’t get yourself killed or anything, still need my study buddy next Monday.”
- -
And so it goes how it always goes - Seunghyun as the unwilling participant and the one holding down the fort as Jiyong comes and goes with bags bursting at the seams. He slathers on mounds of sunscreen and hides behind a pair of aviators, content to sit and listen to Damien Rice for the next hours.
Jiyong drops by at ten thirty with a bag of McDonald’s and a coke, along with a boxful of what looks suspiciously like Hollister and Abercrombie.
“Hold up, I didn’t know you still liked prep school clothing.” Seunghyun raises an eyebrow and chews on a crisp, golden fry. “You’re not a teenage boy anymore.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Jiyong says, voice dry. “Didn’t want to waste the pile of gift cards we had lying around, and we have obligations to our underclassmen friends who are still trapped in that sorry period before adulthood.”
He thumbs through a stack of the same shirt in four different shades of too bright. “You know Seungri loves this shit.” Finally, he settles on a yellow polo. “Perfect, he hates this color.”
“But he’ll wear it anyway because it’s Hollister.”
“Exactly.”
- -
Jiyong returns a little before twelve with a sour expression and a half-filled sack of shoeboxes.
“Wait, what are you doing, you still have five minutes!” Seunghyun watches him start snapping the chairs back together. “You haven’t topped off this last bag yet.”
“No way, we’re out. Some weird salesman with dyed hair was hitting on me and trying to sell me these elastic jeans that I really didn’t want,” Jiyong says, slamming each container neatly into the back of his car’s trunk.
Seunghyun’s eyebrows disappear into the long fringe of his bangs. “Hitting on you like how?”
“I don’t even know, he was singing ‘BABYYYY’ obnoxiously into my ear and offering me cartons of soda? I hightailed it when he called a couple of his friends over.”
He huffs at the amused look Seunghyun sends him. “But I thought you liked tight pants.” He pauses. “Maybe he thought you were a girl?”
Jiyong decides to pay him no attention, dusts his pants off and climbs into the car, crossing stiff arms over his chest. “Forget it. Come on, didn’t you want to visit some places yourself? Let’s go eat first.”
Seunghyun rolls his eyes, resigning himself to a pity party for the duration of their ride. He is consoled by the fact that they’re going antique shopping in the afternoon.
- -
He finally chooses a small collectibles store on the other side of town that looks like it’s almost falling off the corner of the curb. Jiyong clambers out of the car behind him, looking around in consternation. “Where are all the people?”
“Use that brain of yours,” he mimics wryly. “Not all shops have Black Friday discounts today.”
Seunghyun’s eyes light up and immediately zoom toward the back of the dim room when they enter, bell on the door jangling merrily. “Hey, this is vintage Andy Warhol!” His fingers fly through the stacks of prints with abnormal agility. “Look, Jiyong!”
“You’re like a little kid on Christmas morning,” Jiyong turns from his half-hearted perusal of old vinyl records to stare blankly at the canvas in Seunghyun’s outstretched hands. “They’re… Campbell Soup can labels.”
“Yeah, aren’t they great?” Jiyong swears he can see stars twinkling from Seunghyun’s pupils.
“If you wanted soup can labels I could’ve just bought you some when we were at Walmart!”
“Oh, you are unbelievable. This is totally different. How can you not see this guy’s genius?” Seunghyun picks up a quartered Marilyn Monroe canvas and waves it in Jiyong’s face.
Their witty repartee is interrupted by a soft cough. “Can I help you?” The tag on his cashier uniform reads Youngbae and they smile polite smiles at him.
“Um, yes, actually. How much is this print?” Jiyong collapses in a chair behind him, incredulous, and Youngbae flips the board over in his hands.
“It should be fifty dollars, but I can check with the owner later.” The clerk’s face is contemplative. “This is one of my favorites. You have good taste.” In the background, Jiyong mutters, “Oh my God, another one of these crazies.”
“Don’t mind him,” Seunghyun cuts in, voice smooth.
Youngbae beams and his eyes turn up into half-circles. “Call me if you need anything.” He disappears behind a teetering mountain of Kubrick bears mixed in with old Power Ranger action figures.
The sun is setting when Seunghyun’s done making his selections and moving his own sizeable contribution to their luggage into the back of the car. Jiyong makes multiple trips to the Starbucks around the corner and texts furiously, no doubt to Seungri, whenever Seunghyun talks to the store’s cashier.
He thinks jealousy is adorable on him.
Jiyong begins making pointed remarks about how late it’s getting (even though it’s really only six or seven) and, they (or rather, just Seunghyun) wave goodbye to Youngbae and promise to come back as soon as they find time. (“I wish a thousand papers and exams on you,” Jiyong hisses into his ear.)
Seunghyun pats him on the head before starting the car, and Jiyong swats at his hand. “Glad you found something you liked this year,” Jiyong sighs grudgingly into his cup of hot chocolate.
He doesn’t say anything, just nods in contented response.
There’s a moment of hesitation, and then something small and cold is dropped into his lap. “What’s this?” Seunghyun holds up a small keychain with two signature soup cans swinging from the ends.
“I can appreciate good things too, okay,” Jiyong pouts, and Seunghyun laughs out loud.
“Never said you couldn’t,” he says, still chuckling.
The drive home is comfortably silent. Everything is as it should be.
fin
A/N: bahhh this was really fun to write lol :)
Pairing: GTOP
Rating: PG
Genre: au, crack, humor
Warnings: swearing
Author: gdgdbaby
Notes: for chapagetti anon @ kpfw_ss ! not sure if she wanted to unanon haha :D
It’s that time of year again.
Seunghyun hates it, because it always results in mass depletion of money from both their bank accounts (there is still no explicable reason for this occurrence, except that Jiyong possibly snatches his credit card sometime throughout the course of the day) and because it means waking up at an ungodly hour to feed Jiyong’s insane need to power shop.
One day, he swears he’s going to handcuff the kid to his headboard and throw the key away. After Thanksgiving lunch and dinner, he wants his beauty sleep, he wants to be lazy, he wants to digest, dammit.
But this year, it’s way too late, because something shaped like his roommate is shaking Seunghyun’s bed and jumping up and down and tugging hard at the roots of his hair.
“Do you want me start balding early?” he croaks furiously into the darkness of the body pillow he’s hugging. “Or are you just looking to die?”
Jiyong ignores him, starts clanging pots and pans together, the cacophony ringing through layers of fluffy down smashed over his head.
“Dude, it’s Black Friday and Sephora has that, like, amazing 75% off thing every year. You are not making me late. I can’t miss this. I can’t.”
“Fuck off” is Seunghyun’s reply, flipping over to the cool side of the mattress.
Jiyong pokes at his sides, thin hands tunneling through piles of blanket. “At least I didn’t make you camp out like last November-”
“Thank the Lord-”
“-and the least you could do is accompany me.” There’s a break in Jiyong’s attempted tickling and Seunghyun knows he’s sitting on the bed and pouting. “You can, I don’t know, sleep on one of the clearance beds at Sears while I make runs for Frullati?”
He opens his mouth to throw out a “hell no, bitch” and dive under the covers again, but the stupid idiot manages to procure a slice of lemon from out of nowhere, shove it in his half-open mouth and squeeze.
“HOLY FUCK-”
Seunghyun jumps out of bed, gangly limbs thwacking against his bookshelf and knocking over his old limited-edition Michael Jackson figurine. It falls off the shelf, and his eyes watch it go down as if in slow motion. The head snaps off with a sickening crack.
“We’ll,” Jiyong squeaks out. “We’ll buy you a new one?”
- -
This is how it always plays out - him, about to blow a gasket, and Jiyong shuffling him out the door at o’dark hundred, laden with fold-up lawn chairs and empty bags, before he can break anything of Jiyong’s.
“You’re paying me back.” Seunghyun’s hands spasm against the steering wheel. “I don’t care what you say, we’re spending the afternoon combing through all the antique shops on P Avenue, got it?”
He honks the horn in frustration. “Why won’t the goddamn car in front of us move?”
“Calm the road rage and stop memorizing their license plate numbers,” Jiyong mutters, stylus moving back and forth across the screen of his palm pilot. “Use that brain for better things, like getting us to the mall.”
“Not my fault you decided to short-circuit it so early in the morning,” he replies bitterly.
Jiyong snorts. “Lay off the butthurt.” He disregards the sudden snap of Seunghyun’s neck as he turns abruptly to glare at him. “Because of you, all our plans for the day are suddenly squashed in before noon.”
“Because of me?” Seunghyun squawks. “Our plans?”
“Shut up when I’m trying to arrange this shit.” Jiyong hits the stereo buttons at random and suddenly music is blasting.
“Throw your hands in the air, and wave ‘em like you just don’t care! We need a club banger, we need a club banger-”
Seunghyun’s head is bobbing in tempo and Jiyong glances at him sideways. “What?”
“You know, this guy’s voice sounds a lot like yours. Is there something you’re not telling me?” He groans as Jiyong’s eyes examine him through thin slits.
“Yes, I’m secretly some Korean hip hop rapper guy who also happens to go to your university and rooms with you in America.” He fixes his gaze back on the road, swerving to pass several other slow-moving vehicles. “People also tell me I sound like Chuck Bass.”
“Definitely not as sexy,” Jiyong mumbles under his breath.
“Don’t even start,” Seunghyun says ominously, and turns the bass beat up.
- -
“Isn’t it such a beautiful day?” Jiyong skips forward and breathes in deeply.
“Yeah, maybe I’d think so, if I could see it.” He turns around and watches as Seunghyun totters behind him, loaded down with bags and boxes that hide his face.
“Bitch, moan, bitch, moan,” Jiyong snaps. “You think you have it so hard. Think about the poor people in Africa who have nothing to eat or drink. Ah, set everything down here.”
Seunghyun complies, dumping the cargo across the grassy area in front of Sears and setting up the lawn chairs and umbrellas. “What-fucking-ever, Jiyong. If you really cared about third-world-countries, you’d take all this money you save up each year and donate it to Doctors Without Borders or something.”
“Blasphemy, man,” he says without missing a beat. “By buying all this Nike and stuff, I’m paying every little African child in their factories.”
Seunghyun collapses onto one of the chairs and puts his head in his hands. “You’re terrible.”
Jiyong shrugs in agreement and checks his watch, surveys the building before facing him again. “Just think about it. I’m saving us so much money by getting all the good deals now!”
“You can’t save money unless you spend it,” Seunghyun quips, wrapping a warm blanket around himself as Jiyong prepares to enter the fray. “Don’t get yourself killed or anything, still need my study buddy next Monday.”
- -
And so it goes how it always goes - Seunghyun as the unwilling participant and the one holding down the fort as Jiyong comes and goes with bags bursting at the seams. He slathers on mounds of sunscreen and hides behind a pair of aviators, content to sit and listen to Damien Rice for the next hours.
Jiyong drops by at ten thirty with a bag of McDonald’s and a coke, along with a boxful of what looks suspiciously like Hollister and Abercrombie.
“Hold up, I didn’t know you still liked prep school clothing.” Seunghyun raises an eyebrow and chews on a crisp, golden fry. “You’re not a teenage boy anymore.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Jiyong says, voice dry. “Didn’t want to waste the pile of gift cards we had lying around, and we have obligations to our underclassmen friends who are still trapped in that sorry period before adulthood.”
He thumbs through a stack of the same shirt in four different shades of too bright. “You know Seungri loves this shit.” Finally, he settles on a yellow polo. “Perfect, he hates this color.”
“But he’ll wear it anyway because it’s Hollister.”
“Exactly.”
- -
Jiyong returns a little before twelve with a sour expression and a half-filled sack of shoeboxes.
“Wait, what are you doing, you still have five minutes!” Seunghyun watches him start snapping the chairs back together. “You haven’t topped off this last bag yet.”
“No way, we’re out. Some weird salesman with dyed hair was hitting on me and trying to sell me these elastic jeans that I really didn’t want,” Jiyong says, slamming each container neatly into the back of his car’s trunk.
Seunghyun’s eyebrows disappear into the long fringe of his bangs. “Hitting on you like how?”
“I don’t even know, he was singing ‘BABYYYY’ obnoxiously into my ear and offering me cartons of soda? I hightailed it when he called a couple of his friends over.”
He huffs at the amused look Seunghyun sends him. “But I thought you liked tight pants.” He pauses. “Maybe he thought you were a girl?”
Jiyong decides to pay him no attention, dusts his pants off and climbs into the car, crossing stiff arms over his chest. “Forget it. Come on, didn’t you want to visit some places yourself? Let’s go eat first.”
Seunghyun rolls his eyes, resigning himself to a pity party for the duration of their ride. He is consoled by the fact that they’re going antique shopping in the afternoon.
- -
He finally chooses a small collectibles store on the other side of town that looks like it’s almost falling off the corner of the curb. Jiyong clambers out of the car behind him, looking around in consternation. “Where are all the people?”
“Use that brain of yours,” he mimics wryly. “Not all shops have Black Friday discounts today.”
Seunghyun’s eyes light up and immediately zoom toward the back of the dim room when they enter, bell on the door jangling merrily. “Hey, this is vintage Andy Warhol!” His fingers fly through the stacks of prints with abnormal agility. “Look, Jiyong!”
“You’re like a little kid on Christmas morning,” Jiyong turns from his half-hearted perusal of old vinyl records to stare blankly at the canvas in Seunghyun’s outstretched hands. “They’re… Campbell Soup can labels.”
“Yeah, aren’t they great?” Jiyong swears he can see stars twinkling from Seunghyun’s pupils.
“If you wanted soup can labels I could’ve just bought you some when we were at Walmart!”
“Oh, you are unbelievable. This is totally different. How can you not see this guy’s genius?” Seunghyun picks up a quartered Marilyn Monroe canvas and waves it in Jiyong’s face.
Their witty repartee is interrupted by a soft cough. “Can I help you?” The tag on his cashier uniform reads Youngbae and they smile polite smiles at him.
“Um, yes, actually. How much is this print?” Jiyong collapses in a chair behind him, incredulous, and Youngbae flips the board over in his hands.
“It should be fifty dollars, but I can check with the owner later.” The clerk’s face is contemplative. “This is one of my favorites. You have good taste.” In the background, Jiyong mutters, “Oh my God, another one of these crazies.”
“Don’t mind him,” Seunghyun cuts in, voice smooth.
Youngbae beams and his eyes turn up into half-circles. “Call me if you need anything.” He disappears behind a teetering mountain of Kubrick bears mixed in with old Power Ranger action figures.
The sun is setting when Seunghyun’s done making his selections and moving his own sizeable contribution to their luggage into the back of the car. Jiyong makes multiple trips to the Starbucks around the corner and texts furiously, no doubt to Seungri, whenever Seunghyun talks to the store’s cashier.
He thinks jealousy is adorable on him.
Jiyong begins making pointed remarks about how late it’s getting (even though it’s really only six or seven) and, they (or rather, just Seunghyun) wave goodbye to Youngbae and promise to come back as soon as they find time. (“I wish a thousand papers and exams on you,” Jiyong hisses into his ear.)
Seunghyun pats him on the head before starting the car, and Jiyong swats at his hand. “Glad you found something you liked this year,” Jiyong sighs grudgingly into his cup of hot chocolate.
He doesn’t say anything, just nods in contented response.
There’s a moment of hesitation, and then something small and cold is dropped into his lap. “What’s this?” Seunghyun holds up a small keychain with two signature soup cans swinging from the ends.
“I can appreciate good things too, okay,” Jiyong pouts, and Seunghyun laughs out loud.
“Never said you couldn’t,” he says, still chuckling.
The drive home is comfortably silent. Everything is as it should be.
fin
A/N: bahhh this was really fun to write lol :)