belligerent destressing methods
Prompt: “Somebody can kill themselves by jumping from your ego to your IQ”
sugamon brotp (ft. a very concerned jin). 732w. canonverse crack.
"No, no, no hyung this isn't how it's supposed to work," Namjoon taps furiously on the keyboard, the sounds of fingernails and plastic clashing chattering like teeth on a particularly cold day, an added annoyance above the blockage of soundproof headphones.
"Whatever," is Yoongi's nonchalant response.
"What whatever, hyung," Namjoon sighs, smoothening a longsuffering palm over his currently grey and shortened fringe. The 화양연화 Epilogue promotions were nigh and they'd barely gotten any rest over the rushed and hushed production of 화양연화 songs and now the two who have been mainly taking charge of music production in their group have finally actually got some time to themselves in the studio, this childish shit is evidently clogging everything up and still he refuses to budge.
"Hyung, just listen to me. This whole situation is going downhill, and if we do this we might still be able to salvage everything. Please, hyung. We've worked so hard and so far for this." Namjoon attempts with all his might to keep his voice as level as possible, but his hyung isn't even doing so much as to leave his gaze from the computer and his hands from the keyboard to hear him out for even a moment and even the calmest and most everloving of people would have lost their shit by now. Namjoon's voice cracks a little at the end, and Namjoon nearly does, too.
"What do you know," Yoongi mutters, barely an audible whisper under his breath, but Namjoon somehow catches it anyway in a sudden moment of aural lucidity. "It's not like you're any good at working this shit."
"What?" Namjoon stops; turns abruptly to look straight at Yoongi. "What? What did you say?"
"What, what what what what what," Yoongi's voice elevates from a soft mumble to a barely subdued shout in a steep crescendo. "I said it's not like you're any good at working this machine!"
Meanwhile, the door to the studio abruptly opens, a nervous-looking, blotchy and slightly sweaty Jin holding an extra large sharing plate of jjajangmyun in one hand and the door knob in the other. "Stop fighting now, would you," Seokjin huffs, voice slightly elevated in panic. "I know you guys don't like to be disturbed but I've heard every bit of your argument for a good five minutes and I think it's about time I step in." He sighs, equal parts breathcatching and frustration, squeezing his eyes shut as he prepares for the incoming ramble he would attempt to cease the argument between them with. "I know the song productions are getting rough and you guys have had vastly different experiences with the Maschine but would you guys just cooperate for a mo - "
Just then, Jin opens his eyes only to realize a number of things:
Firstly, the two of them are not currently sparring on the floor in a heated wrestling match, but haven't actually heard him at all, with Namjoon screaming something along the lines of somebody can kill themselves by jumping from your ego to your IQ, Min Yoongi and Yoongi evidently going out of the rules of traditional Korean wrestling by attempting to rip handfuls of Namjoon's grey hair out, half-growling half-screaming something along the lines of I'm your hyung you brat.
Secondly, the Maschine was lying peacefully unplugged to the studio computer, and whatever's on the computer screen isn't whatever music that was about to be released as covers or solo tracks and such, but instead, a heated co-op game of Warcraft.
Oh. So they were talking about Warcraft machines.
"What are you guys, twelve??" Jin facepalms; half the exasperation directed at the immense lack of maturity in the studio and the other half directed at his own folly. "The fangirls won't be very happy if you turn up to a fanmeet bald, Namjoonie."
Still no response. At this point in time the argument between the two was already heading into uncharted, irrelevant territory, with Yoongi screeching something along the lines of bigger height doesn't mean bigger dick, you fucktard.
Jin swiftly dumps one pair of the two disposable chopsticks he's brought with him into the dustbin, bringing the jjajangmyun and the remaining pair of chopsticks away with him. They'd come scrambling out of the studio exactly half an hour later hungry and tired, Jin's experience told himself as he slurped a mouthful of noodles. It's just the way they de-stress.