Namjin Smut

Flirt. Date. Mate!

Written by: boulevarddouble

Summary:

Emotional disaster Professor Kim Seokjin and human disaster Professor Kim Namjoon meet on a dating app. Together, they fail to hook up and don't quite fall in love. But they could.

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One:

"I'm not lonely," Seokjin says into the open fridge. "Yoongi doesn't know what he's talking about."

His knife bites through the scallions, the thak-thak-thak against the bamboo cutting board just a little louder than usual. "I live an active and satisfying life."

The tip of his tie brushes against the pile of chopped onions and he forces himself to take a step back, breathe, and put on his favorite apron. So what if he's a thirty-six year old man who preferentially wears cartoon characters in the kitchen. And on his pajamas. It wasn't like he was emotionally stunted or anything, Yoongi.

"And besides," the sharp blade mows through his leftover kimchi. A little of the juice splatters on the counter. "If I was lonely, which I am not," thak-thak-thak, "I am perfectly capable of finding a mate without the help of some," thak,"stupid," thak, "app." Thak!

The dice is too small for a perfect kimchi jjigae, but there's nothing he can do about it now, so he simply glares at the cutting board and grabs the ginger, garlic, and tofu from the fridge. "Just because he found a boyfriend doesn't mean that everyone around him needs a boyfriend, too."

A little pile of minced garlic sits next to a mound of chopped ginger. way too much for this recipe, but he can save that for stir fry. Normally, Seokjin can slice the tofu into neat little squares with the precision of a laser cutter, but tonight he has to concentrate. They'd only had one bottle of soju between the two of them — Yoongi had to run off to meet up with his boyfriend. And how dare this boyfriend steal their sacred Friday best friend happy hour time. It was probably why Yoongi hadn't introduced them yet. Because his boyfriend was a filthy time-stealer and who wants to own up to dating someone like that? Seokjin would never be that desperate.

Of course, that left Seokjin heading back to his empty apartment hours earlier and far more sober than usual. The sunset's final rays hadn't even faded when he toed off his shoes and hung his tweed jacket by the door. So he did what he always did when he was tipsy: make dinner.

"Ok, so maybe I haven't gotten laid in awhile, but that's not being lonely." He pulls out the last of his fatty pork. "I've just prioritized my life," the knife slides through the meat with ease, "and my career. I'm not some sex-crazed pervert like Yoongi."

The pork sizzles in the bottom of the pot, and he pokes at it listlessly with his favorite wooden spoon. Making tipsy dinner is less enjoyable when he's angry. Usually, he puts on some music and bounces around the kitchen, thankful for his life, his career. He's not counting the number of weeks it's been since he got fucked. It's fewer than fifty-two, at least, but far too close to that mark for a man of his intelligence and good looks.

"Fine. Yoongi may have a point. About the sex thing," he says to the kimchi as it joins the pork. The juice from the cabbage pops judgmentally as it hits the hot fat. "That was uncalled for."

He flings in the red pepper flakes like they will teach the stew a lesson, letting the scent of frying garlic and ginger soothe his nerves. In the past, if he wanted to pick up an alpha for a one-night stand, he'd go to a club. But if he doesn't want to remember the number of weeks since he's been laid, he definitely can't bring himself to think about how many since he's tried that. He's old. He goes to bed at ten. He likes going to bed at ten. How else is he going to feel smug when his students straggle into class hungover, with dark circles under their eyes, wishing they could have skin as nice and hydrated as his? It's not that he doesn't love his students and sympathize with their plight, but it is extremely validating and Seokjin isn't going to pass that opportunity up.