Rating: PG
Genre: Fluff? PWP
Summary: Seungri and Jiyong go out for ramen.
AN: This took so long to write! I'm just not good at fluff, my angsty ones are much quicker. But I need more fluff, there's been too much angst. Sorry for the fail. Comments are love<3

 

“Here you go! Enjoy your food!” The kindly ahjumma set down our order of ramen; I smiled when I realized she’d given us a very generous helping. Maybe it was because we’d ordered just one for two hungry, growing boys. Little did she know, I was running very low on pocket money and, yeah, I told JiYong that I’d treat him. Least I could do. You know. After that.

My mouth watered, the ramen’s delicious smell wafting towards us. I lifted up the cover from the pot and a burst of steam flew into the air. I sighed in anticipation, my chopsticks aimed directly at the pot... when I realized that JiYong hadn’t even picked up his chopsticks yet. Usually, he’d be the first to attack any food, so it was very unlike him to sit there, looking at me... expectantly?

“Well, you can’t expect me to get some myself, can you?!” he said impatiently at my confused face. Ah. Right. The noodles that had been heading for my mouth were forced to change direction as they plopped into JiYong’s bowl. I added some of the soup into his bowl and handed it back to him, or rather, placed it gently in front of him. I turned back towards the food, my stomach growling after a long, gruelling day of practice.

“Wah! Hyung! This is some good stuff, eh?!” I spoke this (sprayed this) to JiYong excitedly, my mouth full of noodles. I wiped at a string of noodle that trailed down my chin before swallowing, no easy task when you don’t chew your food because you’re talking. Instead of laughing, or scolding me for talking with my food in my mouth (like YoungBae would have done), he just sat there stonily, his food untouched.

“What—Oh, come on, hyung, you were the one who said you wanted to eat ramen! What’s up with you?!” I shook my head, helping myself to another serving of hot noodles.

“Feed me.”

I choked when I heard this (not a pleasant sight when you have food coming out rather than in), the spicy soup burning my throat and nose, causing me to have a mini-panic attack in which I thought I was suffocating (dying). After copious amounts of water, I turned to look at JiYong, eyeing him weirdly. Of course, as this scene had only taken a few seconds (it felt like forever to SeungRi), JiYong still sat there, looking at me and then looking at his noodles, and then looking at me again. Was he serious?

“Are you serious?” I asked when my telepathy failed me.

“Yah!” JiYong banged his left hand on the table. He raised his right hand and shook it at me, a few inches from my face. “How do you expect me to eat with this?!”

“Well, what does that have to do with me?” I asked him defensively. It was an accident!

“Listen, maknae, it was your fault this happened to me, so take responsibility!” He frowned his “leader-frown” at me, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “I thought we raised you better than this!” he cried out dramatically, turning the heads of the customers seated around us.

“Shhh, JiYong, someone’ll recognize us!” I whispered worriedly. JiYong just looked at me and chuckled.

“Let them!” He grins and raises his voice. “The world should know the truth! This irresponsible maknae is abusing his elders! That’s a federal crime, you know,” he tells me enlighteningly.

“Hyung, I’m pretty sure it’s elderly abuse, as in senior citizens. You’re only two years older than me.”

“And sometimes I think you forget that! I am older, your senior! So, to you, what I say goes. And I say, feed me!” I sigh, knowing full that he wasn’t going to let it rest.

“Fine! Fine, come here.” I grab a clump of noodles and hold it in front of his face, “Say ‘Ahh...’!” To my surprise, his mouth closes over my chopsticks without complaint, chewing with relish as he sits back and looks thoughtfully at me. I’m still watching him as he finishes his mouthful. Without so much as a gasp of pain, his right hand closes over the neck of the green soju bottle that sits next to his shot glass, pouring himself a generous amount of alcohol. 

“Yah. You can’t even handle a pair of chopsticks, yet you can drink all you want?”

“That’s right, maknae. I’m the leader. I do anything I want,” he said, downing his soju in one swallow, grinning at me. I rolled my eyes.

“Oh shut up, hyung,” I said amusedly, shoving more noodles into his mouth. He chewed leisurely, seeming to enjoy just sitting there and not worrying about schedules, practices, or those twenty scraps of paper that need to be turned into lyrics that litter his desk.

So we sat like that, silently. I would occasionally pick up some more noodles (there weren’t that many left, they were so. good.) and feed JiYong. I didn’t want to disturb whatever funk he had gotten into, he had checked himself out of the conversation. Instead, he stared at me with curious eyes and re-filled his glass, soon polishing off 3 more bottles of the stuff. It’s a good thing I was feeding him.

Suddenly, JiYong’s eyes focused, and a slightly manic smile flashed across his face. He reached over across the table and grabbed me by my front with my hands (I muttered under my breath, didn’t even hurt his hand...taking advantage...mumble, mumble...) and pulled me right over the table. He leaned in to meet me halfway, our faces were about 3 inches apart and we standing somewhat awkwardly over the table. I glanced quickly around us, my face colouring in embarrassment.

“SsseungRi!” JiYong slurred my name lightly, his soju-breath fanning onto my face. “Look over there!” he hissed. I turned my head to look in the direction he wanted me to, but he shook me vigorously. “Don’t look!”

“JiYong, what’re you—”

“Fangirls! They’re heeeere!” JiYong giggled at me, a real giggle, something I haven’t heard in a long time.

“F-fangirls?” I stuttered, alarmed at the dubiously drunk JiYong.  

“Yup. Can’t you hear them?” As a matter of fact, I could, now. Small squeals and lots of whispering could be heard from behind me. Probably freaking out now that they’ve successfully recognized us, no thanks to JiYong.

“Hyung!” I panicked, my eyes flying wide open. “Let me go! Quickly! Before they get the wrong idea about us, or something! Oh, you don’t know how these fangirls’ minds work; some of them are outright whacked. I was reading some of their fanfictions—”

“You were?” JiYong interrupts, roaring with laughter, his laughter rolling through him and shaking me because he wouldn’t let me go. “Let me guess, you were reading from GDheartRi? No wonder your English has improved!” I glared at him, knowing he had guessed correctly. “So, read anything you liked? Any recommendations?”

“Well, there was this one—Wait! I’m not gonna answer that! Now let me go, hyung!”

Taking no notice of my request, JiYong whispered, “What if we gave them something real to write about?”

“WHAT?!” I yelped. Clearly, JiYong was a “crazy-drunk”, the kind of people who completely lose it the moment the alcohol hit them.

“Oh, come oooon, SeungRi-yah. Fanservice! It’ll just be fanservice! Just like always, eh?” His eyes grew determined.

“Wha-no-hyu-!” My protests were cut off my the lips that were firmly pressed to mine. My eyes popped out of my head, sure, JiYong has kissed me here and there, but it was never like this, and never for this long. I had a strong urge to flail about like I had when I had to kiss TOP-hyung for the Secret Garden parody, and I was pretty sure I was gonna scream like I had right afterwards. My poor, innocent lips! The strange thing was, I was enjoying it as much as JiYong seemed to.

Over in their little corner, the fans were screaming their heads off, the owner of the shop was trying to kick them out, but they resisted, trying to come closer and mob us, screw privacy. Snaps and clicks of camera phones filled the restaurant.

When we (reluctantly) pulled apart, I felt dazed and confused. And a little (a whole lot) elated. What was wrong with me? There was a small part of me that got ahead and thought, I have to check out the fanfiction communities tomorrow! I shook my head, feeling slightly out of it.

Man, I thought when we paid and made to leave, arms linked, we have to go for ramen more often!