LATTE TALK • yoonseok • #WattPride

☕ vingt six ☕

Hoseok finds it endearing, the fact that Yoongi has started to visit the shop again, without clinging onto Jin, thankfully, and orders the highlight of the day with a small smile playing on his lips. And when Hoseok delivers the sugary order with an equally genuine smile, he hops towards the red loveseat in the alcove on his trusted crutch and settles down to work for the day. It really is endearing; watching the old curmudgeon scrunch his button nose in concentration or dissatisfaction and his fingers tap tap tap –ed on his laptop as Hoseok filled orders after orders on boring weekday afternoons.

Okay, maybe it is not as endearing as it sounds when Yoongi finds him staring and Hoseok has to promptly find the potted plant on the window sill to Yoongi's left far more interesting than the boy sitting next to it, at the same time trying to hide his furiously blushing cheeks at getting caught. The old lady in front him smiles obliviously as she orders a tchai latte and Hoseok believes himself saved as he hands her the order a minute later.

Oh but did he forget about The Fate watching him from up above? Yes, he did.

A smirk tugs on Yoongi's chapped lips as he watches the flustered Hoseok return to his toils. Would it be a bit too much to ask him to sit down with him and sip a coffee after his shift? Or would it be too rapey?

The puffy sky outside shifts from the orangish haze to its twilight hue and Hoseok's shift drags itself to a close. The redhead shakes off the red apron and hands it to a smiling Jimin, who seems to be more intent on typing out a reply than in greeting his best friend goodbye.

"Sure, your phone makes you your favorite drinks every morning. Sure." The faux hurt in his voice turns Jimin's eyes wider, worrying him that he may have hurt Hoseok with his unintended ignorance.

"Hyung, no, no, I am no—"

"Hey, it's fine. I am just kidding." He nods his head amiably at the blonde before slipping out from behind the counter and just as he reaches the door, his heart leaps to his throat as Yoongi calls out from his corner.

The pale boy beckons him over with a wave and Hoseok worries the inside of cheeks with his teeth as he walks over with tentative steps. Min Yoongi is dangerous when he smiles and even the dense as fuck Jung Hoseok knows this by now.

"Hey. Are you free now?"

"Ye...ah?" Yoongi quirks an eyebrow at the hesitance and Hoseok laughs at himself. When did Min Yoongi make him nervous?

The answer is, as he knows: always.

"I was thinking maybe we could sip a latte after your shift while we talked, because apparently we still only know our first names and nothing beyond." His lips eventually stretch over his pearly teeth in a smile and the composed Yoongi has to blink, because, apparently Jung Hoseok's smile resembles the sun.

Hoseok knows reaching home early means more time spent alone with the television turned on. Namjoon would reach home after he would have gone to sleep and Yoongi's spontaneous offer seems so much more appealing than the only other option.

"Well, I am in no hurry. What would you like? An extra black americano? Or maybe a black tea with no sugar?" The smirk that encases Yoongi's face has his heart beating at a slightly not-normal rate, and Hoseok does not remember feeling this way for quite some time. When did Namjoon last smile genuinely at any of his regular jokes? He could not, for the world, remember. But it is Yoongi's smile that causes a giggle to bubble from the pit of his stomach and soon enough Yoongi, the grouch king, is laughing alongside him at their little inside joke.

"I guess a white chocolate mocha would do for today, latte boy."

"One white chocolate mocha coming right up, Grandpa."

"Very funny, Pluto the Pup."

"You're treading in dangerous territory, Min Yoongi."

"As if you're not?"

Hoseok scrunches his eyebrows in amusement before leaving the table and when he returns with a white chocolate mocha and a café latte, Yoongi has cleaned the table top of his laptop and the A4 papers littered with doodles.

"Let me guess, you work for a dead Picasso and steal his works to sell as your own." The lighting in the corner is provided by an artistic lamp hanging overhead and the shafts of light falling on Yoongi's feature make him look like that bloody protagonist's boyfriend in that stupid rom-com Jimin loves to watch. No, let me rephrase that. Min Yoongi looks like an art left to bask in the light of the overhead lamp. Fucking hell, Hoseok.

"Just like you slave for the Winter King and try to woo him with your sugary drinks?" The slight innuendo is not missed by Hoseok, but his lagging brain is unable to decipher the goddamn coding behind it. And codes are not his cup of latte. "I work at Seoul Graphics as their internee cartoonist."

"Damn, that's cool, hyung. I never took you to be the type who was a cartoonist."

"Why is that?" Yoongi takes a sip from his cup and his eyes close as he hums in appreciation. Hoseok thanks all the gods up above for making the lighting dim and hiding his warm, faint blush and his faster heart rate. "It's good. I guess I'll order it from now on."

"Gee thanks. But you look like someone who'd, I don't know, work somewhere where your sassy mouth worked better?"

"I find it easy to express myself through art and paints and drawing pens rather than with keyboards or words. What about you though?"

The conversation soon turns from stiff and awkward to easygoing and fluid as the clock ticks away, and Hoseok is surprised to know how much of a bibliophile Yoongi is and how music inspires his artwork. Yoongi's eyes widen between sips as Hoseok bashfully admits his love for dance and surely, this must be the reason why hips look so deliriously attractive when he walks? Oh, but never mind that, for it turns out he applied for the Seoul Academy of Arts this winter and if he is lucky enough, Hoseok may get the acceptance letter by summertime.

Jimin looks over at them once or twice in a while, a smile playing on his lips as he watches the two engage in conversation, and for very obvious reasons, his shipper heart cannot help but wish Hoseok was not tied to Namjoon. The cups empty long before their words do, and Jimin notices the faint ruddy glow on Hoseok's cheeks as they walk out of the shop together, their paces surprisingly in match, for Yoongi limps and Hoseok hops, yet they turn the corner of the street at the same time. Jimin wishes and wishes and wishes for the one up there to listen to his unfair prayers, for he only wants the best for Hoseok and often times the best wishes are not received amiably.