Baby Baby ||| Doyoung x Reader
Genre: Peaceful Fluff Warnings: None Wordcount: 1144 Song: Baby Baby - Winner
AN: A request from @idont-knowabrian - my first request! I hope it turned out the way you wanted. If it did not, then, let me know, and I will try again :’)
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Lights possessed a strange glow in the bar - a delicate yet rich fuschia mixed with golden hues of the naked light bulbs lining the walls, and traversed the glittering eyes and ink-drafted skin of the people dotted around the room. Their voices were whispered, polite yet hushed, as if their words were not designed for the outside world’s ears. Ice cubes danced a swirling waltz in glasses as they were swept around the room, from one bejewelled hand to the next. The woman at the bar swept the cloth around a clear cylinder, the base engraved with the calligraphed ‘M’ of the lounge - an initial shared by the owner that many spoke of but few knew in person. Her colleague sighed gently, not of tiredness or exasperation, but rather relief, as the clientele held their ground elsewhere. They were no doubt more drawn to the clustering of famous faces, either littering the walls and crowned by brass frames, or reclining in the corners of the lounge.
As the waiter poured a tamed cascade of alcohol that reeked of money into the gently twisted glass near your face, you realised you did not mind who was in the room, just as long as they came nowhere near your table. The bubbles fizzed and rose as if in applause to the distant saxophone that sounded from a separate area of the bar. A guitar reverberated alongside the saxophone’s arc. They were a pair of simple symphonies, unmatched with one another, and they lead your thoughts into strange geometry, leaving sleep to watch from the sidelines.
It had been a long, long day. The arches of your feet ached, even as you stretched your toes. Your heels were abandoned beside them, polished charcoal hidden in the shadows. Your elbows dug into the wood of the table, the edge of the placemat etching a strange, half-pattern into your skin. For a moment the awareness of a loose strand of hair slipping from its knot slithered into your brain, but with the pressure of your closed eyes, you forced it gone.
The asymmetrical tune of the instruments began to jar in your head, but the night had yet to find its end. The charity event had thinned, but there were still some prominent figureheads to shake hands with - you presumed at the very least that this was the reasoning for Doyoung’s extended departure.
You regretted suggesting the shopping trip that early afternoon, especially after the meeting of the morning - the magnitude of men in bawdy yet extortionately expensive suits, the mulling of jargon and the open-ended conclusion that left an end perhaps more vague than it had been before. There were many things you regretted - lying in bed just that little bit too long, purchasing one too many earrings from La Belle’s, the decision to wear the dress instead of the jumpsuit which wouldn’t have left you shivering whenever the doors opened. Though not much could be done now.
The seat opposite you was empty, and you wondered where Yuta had gone. Johnny you knew had gone to get some food from the buffet, and had likely gotten distracted with something beautiful, and Doyoung you guessed was attending to business, but Yuta? You didn’t fancy hooking him away from another small harem of women like last time. You thought him sensible enough to not flirt with a CEO’s wife again but, how were you to know for sure. Maybe he had gone with Johnny. You relinquished yourself to the naivety of hoping that so.
There was a polite round of applause that coincided with the firm stride of someone walking towards your table. Jazz dwindled with the crowd, while over the muted speakers came a song you knew much better. You lifted your heavy eyes, ignoring the likelihood of your dark eye circles seeping through your makeup, and greeted the sight of Doyoung with exhausted joy.
His tuxedo was ever so slightly rumpled, bow-tie discarded around his neck. He didn’t look at you as he took his seat to your left, before folding his arms upon the table and letting his composure drop. His shoulders slouched, his back curled, and a deep breath escaped his lips.
Soon, he worked up the effort to incline his head towards you, expression filled with a confidence granted by tiredness alone, to meet your gaze. His dark eyes glistened in the low light, providing a welcoming pool of comfort in the mist of the late evening.
“Get caught up?” you enquired, your voice barely even a whisper.
He nodded, his tone matching yours. “Mr Kim. Not the nice Mr Kim either...” He sighed. “They should pay me overtime for dealing with that... horror!”
You chuckled quietly. “It’s ok, he’s not here.” You shifted across the sofa, resting your head upon his shoulder, your arm sweeping up and just barely grasping the cloth of his jacket by your head. “I hope.”
He smiled. “I’m sorry. We’ll head home soon. Try to stay awake?”
You whined, pressing yourself closer to his comfort. “How soon?”
“Well, once I’ve made sure I’ve said hello to the bare minimum of people I need to, then we can get in the car, drive the shortcut home, and immediately collapse into bed. Sounds good?” He nuzzled his cheek against your crown, eyes coming to a close.
“Yay!” you said with as much energy you could muster, which wasn’t much.
And then the realisation hit you. “Doyoung? We didn’t come in the car.”
You felt the weight of his head immediately lift off of yours, as his body stiffened. You sat up with him, steadying yourself with a hand upon his shoulder instead. His eyes darted around the room in thought. “We got a lift from Johnny, remember?”
“Oh.” His face twisted into disappointment. “We did, didn’t we.”
“And Yuta,” you added.
He grimaced at that. “Oh no...”
“We’re... not going home early tonight are we?”
He shook his head.
“Great,” you groaned.
The silence of disdain draped your table, the bubbles of the alcohol perspiring within the dulled magenta of the wine. Doyoung cleared his throat, large hands caressing your shoulders, before bringing you close to his chest. His fingers carefully rested in your hair, enjoying your proximity. “You can still have a nap though, love.”
You almost protested, a sharp edge of bravery sparking your energy up. Until his lips pressed a kiss onto the top of your head, and you felt the responsibilities of the earth melt away.
Instead, your thoughts focused upon the melody surrounding you, its bittersweet sadness inviting sleep to dance once more, carrying your thoughts away.
The final thing you heard before you drifted off, was Doyoung’s voice - high and smooth and sweet - singing along with the stereo.
“Baby, baby... i bami sirheoyo... Baby baby... honjaga sirheoyo...”
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Masterlist