30/300: 17. taejin, at jikook's wedding
"You know, this is pretty cliché."
Seokjin wipes his finger through the thick white buttercream clinging to the side of his plastic dessert plate, plopping it into his mouth with aplomb. He wrinkles his nose slightly at how cloyingly sweet it is, although it does feel fitting, given the occasion.
"What is?" He asks, barely sparing Taehyung a glance as he picks apart his cake with a gilded fork. "Jimin-ssi shoving cake in Jungkookie's face?"
This time, Taehyung wrinkles his nose at a completely different kind of cloying sweetness.
"I mean, yes, but no. I was talking about—" Taehyung gestures between them with his own fork, "—this."
Seokjin blinks slowly at him. He glances around at the table they're sitting at—definitely not the one they were assigned to, but most of the other guests are too drunk or busy dancing to care. Taehyung has long since lost his tie, the first two buttons of his dress shirt undone and the third kept in check only by the vest he has yet to discard, and his jacket has disappeared
alongside Seokjin's somewhere in the reception hall. It doesn't seem particularly cliché, but then Seokjin supposed that most things that happen at weddings can't avoid being some kind of cliché.
"You and me," Taehyung continues in the wake of what Seokjin can only guess is the perplexity on his face. "The two best men. Alone."
"We're in a hall full of people," Seokjin points out, unsure if he should grin or roll his eyes.
"Sequestered." Taehyung scoots closer as he says it, and he smells like expensive cake and open bar alcohol.
"I think you've had too much wine," Seokjin snorts, and settles on the grin. He wraps his hand around his own neck and mirrors Taehyung's bid for closeness, leaning in like he has a secret. "That, or you're trying to hit on me."
Maybe Seokjin's the one who’s had too much wine.
"I don't know, hyung." Taehyung's deep, purring voice tingles up Seokjin's spine. "Why can't it be both?"
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