커피 | Namjoon x Male!Reader | RM BTS

6 - Pirates and Pasta

It wasn't that you were nervous. Scratch that, of course you were nervous. You were practically sweating buckets. The whole week was a nightmare all in all.

Initially, you had tried to keep the whole Namjoon coming around to your apartment out of your mind, but to no avail. On top of that, the kids you were teaching could easily tell there was something going on with you and had decided to be particularly difficult that week. Not to mention, you had an extortionate amount of marking waiting for you at home due to all of the recent tests you had set. You were simultaneously dreading and looking forward for the weekend to come.

Unfortunately, you and Namjoon hadn't had much time in the past week to talk since your phonecall since both of your busy schedules didn't allow it (his schedule being extortionately busier than yours). So, to make up for it, you made sure that your apartment was basically pristine for when he visited.

However, as the time on Saturday neared you couldn't help but feel overly self-conscious about every minute detail he might be able to pick up about your life and habits from your things. So, to calm yourself down, you decided to cook yourself a small pasta dish before he arrived, but without realising it you had done the timings all wrong and overrun into when he was due to be at your place.

Ding Dong.

"Fuck," you muttered, "Shit, fuck, balls." As you wiped your hands down your apron to get some of the flour off, you scurried to the front door from your kitchen (which wasn't that far in all honesty, maybe a ten foot walk overall). In the few seconds before you opened the door you tried to desperately make yourself look presentable. You had thought you would have had time before he got here to at least wash up, but it didn't appear to be that way now. You flattened your hair as best you could from its wild state and licked your lips before opening the door, "Hi!"

He looked amazing. He was wearing a pink beanie, wire frame glasses, a denim jacket, ripped jeans, a patterned shirt (with a scarf over the top) and some timberland boots. You assumed everything he was wearing was easily designer it looked so good on him. In comparison you felt a bit underwhelming. Luckily you had decided to get dressed properly a bit earlier in a nice shirt and some jeans (nothing too fancy, it was only your apartment after all), but he looked phenomenal standing next to your flustered, flour-y state.

"Hi," He responded, smiling just a little, "Can I come in?"

"OH! Yes, of course!" You heated up a little, realising you had been staring at him. Stepping aside, he walked past you.

"Something smells good, are you cooking?" He asked when putting a plastic carrier bag on the kitchen counter, he seemed to have brought snacks for your movie watching session.

"Oh yeah, I was making pasta, but I seemed to have lost track of time, it was supposed to be done before you got here. Sorry," You rushed over to where the pasta you had just made was now boiling in a sauce, it looked nearly done when you started to stir it.

"Don't apologise, it smells amazing," he said, smiling at you, "Lucky I didn't get here before, I'm not very good when it comes to cooking."

"Don't be silly, anyone can be good at cooking, it just takes practice," you insisted, turning to him. His face didn't seem to agree with you.

"If you had seen me handle a knife, you'd think otherwise," he laughed a little after that.

"Anyway, do you want some?"

"Yes please!"

As you sat down at the bar opposite the kitchen counter, the proximity between you two started to finally settle in. Obviously, your apartment was small, but the seating arrangement was still entirely too close for your liking. As you both sat down to eat the pasta your legs could help but touch one another's and it only seemed to get worse from there.