"Yeah, uh. Shit." Johnny glances over the bottles lining the counter. "Rum and coke, I guess."
Donghyuck rolls his eyes. "Classy, Johnny."
"I'm trying," he argues.
"Not well." Donghyuck turns back to the bartender, twirling a little in his stool. Gives a dazzling grin, resting his chin on his hand with his elbow on the glossy countertop.
"And for you?" the man asks, and grins right back, leaning closer.
"I think I'll have a martini," Donghyuck says. Johnny knows he's picking it solely to put himself above Johnny, as a fucking connoisseur of class or something. The damn guy doesn't even like martinis.
"You take it dirty?" the bartender asks. Johnny scowls.
"Hm. I'd like that," Donghyuck drawls, and lets his downy eyelashes flutter. Johnny scowls some more, and Donghyuck excitedly wiggles his toes in his fancy dress shoes.
"Let me get that for you."
The bartender leaves, and Johnny's still got that scowl painted over his lips.
"Jesus. Does he think he's fucking slick? What the fuck was that? Jesus."
"He's just doing his job, Johnny." Donghyuck rolls his eyes. But he's not stupid, and neither is Johnny. They both saw the way that man had looked at Donghyuck—more accurately, the way everyone looks at Donghyuck. Which he loves, of course, even more so because it gets Johnny so on edge.
"Don't bullshit, Hyuck. You're a piece of meat in his eyes, you know it."
"Hm. Damn good piece of meat, if you ask me."
Donghyuck's in one of his moods tonight. He's not modest; he'll admit it. There's just something about pure, unadulterated luxury that gets his blood pumping. Makes him seek attention. Because nights like these, in fabrics like these, he looks good, frighteningly so. Maybe he wants to flaunt it a little. What are you gonna do?
Needless to say, Johnny's in one of his moods, too. Brought on by Donghyuck, of course, because the damn guy always holds more influence over him than he likes to admit. If Donghyuck's happy, Johnny's happy, and that's generally how it goes. Hand-in-hand with that, if Donghyuck's restless, Johnny is, undeniably, restless.
And it's a real restless evening, this one. Coupled with silk ties and polished shoes and gelled hair. Steep liquor and even steeper stilettos, clicking over the floor to the muted tune of the background. Fancy, if you will. Which is really neither Johnny or Donghyuck's style, but sometimes you've got to treat yourself.
At least, that's Donghyuck's excuse.
"You're liking it too much here," Johnny mutters to him when their drinks come. As the bartender hands Donghyuck his glass with a skilled hand balancing the stem, Johnny makes sure to place a hand on Donghyuck's bicep and lean a bit closer, looking the guy right in the eye. And Donghyuck catches that, and smirks. Then he makes sure to wink at the bartender a second before he turns.
"Hyuck," Johnny warns.
"Mm?" He carefully lifts his drink, barely sips it, and puts it back down with a mild grimace before he smiles coyly at Johnny. "I'm just having a bit of fun, Johnny. Feeling the mood? You get me?"
"No, you're trying to piss me off. Quit playing."
"Bullshit. As if you're that important." Donghyuck glances over the high counter, searching for the bartender. "Besides, was that really necessary? That look you gave him, Jesus. He can clearly see we're together."
