could you please do 23 and nammin/minjoon?
“Babe, I’m sorry.”
“Suck my ass.”
Namjoon loves Jimin. No really, he does.
The thing about Jimin though, was that you had to know two important things about him. The first was that he was always fucking up.
Seriously.
You would think fucking up things came with Namjoon’s job description as designated human hurricane since elementary school when he kicked a soccer ball too hard and literally broke their jungle gym. Or that one time he was on the honor roll and high school and was helping out sort out the paper directory of the school population and tipped over the entire stack of two weeks of worth because he tripped over the desk. True story.
But Jimin, his fuck ups were of a different kind.
Like now, for example.
“I can’t believe you got our whole house painted baby pink,” Namjoon whispers, mouth still dropped open from well, the house being the exact shade of a piglet’s bottom.
“Surprise?” Jimin squeaks hopefully, but even he knows he’s really done it this time.
“Jimin, I gave you one job. I told you when we move in together, I’d find the apartment, I’d manage the taxes, I’ll even take out the trash.”
“Right,” Jimin gulps, bottom lip jutting out so that Namjoon knows his boyfriend is already upset but he’s too mad to care.
“All you had to do,” Namjoon continues in a shaky voice that really refuses to stay calm, “is to move our stuff in and decorate. A one time thing. Literally, the only fun thing.”
“Well, I did,” Jimin argues, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. “I thought you said on the phone that you wanted pink.”
“No,” Namjoon says with a fake pretense of patience, “I specifically told you, whatever you do, do not paint it some fancy, embarrassing lilac purple or baby pink!” Namjoon says in exasperation, leaning back against his old beat up SUV and staring up at their new house.
Their new house that looked like Disneyland threw up on it.
God, he could never ever ever bring any of his friends over, like, ever again.
Not when he was an underground rapper and his friend’s once laughed at him for a whole month because Jimin had forgotten to do the laundry and he had been forced to wear Jimin’s old Powerpuff Girls’ socks to the studio.
“Whoops,” Jimin says, popping the ‘p’ and looking at Namjoon to guage just what level of begging was going to make him forgive him.
“Damn right. You know we could barely afford painting it the first time,” Namjoon says, sighing, still staring with dismay at their new place with the wary eyes of a man that had seen too much of the world.
“Joonie,” Jimin says in a tone that Namjoon knows he reserves for the times he really messes up, like that time they were in the middle of Tokyo for their vacation for the first time in years and Jimin had forgotten to book any hotel reservations.
“No,” Namjoon replies, tone hard but resolve wavering when his eyes flick over to Jimin’s large pretty ones batting themselves at Namjoon.
“Babe, I’m sorry.”
“Suck my ass.”
Namjoon regrets saying this immediately because the second thing to know about Park Jimin was that he was always horny.
Always.
“Give me the time and the place baby, I’ll be there,” Jimin smirks and Namjoon shoves him gently, laughing.
“You’re fucking gross, you know that?” he says, rummaging for the keys in his back pocket and fishing them out.
“Hypocrite,” Jimin says, rolling his eyes but latching on to Namjoon’s arm and laughing. “Like you don’t love it.”
“Shut up,” Namjoon says, blushing and turning the lock of their new house. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Pink was an okay color. Sure, it wasn’t what he was picturing but -
“Jimin?” Namjoon almost screams, jaw dropping.
Literally everything. Was pink. Even the tablecloth. Namjoon felt his knees go weak.
“Ah, I forgot to tell you just one more tiny thing- ”
otp drabble challenge!