KSI [sidemen]

Shameless

You're freaking out about what just happened at dinner. JJ is not.

He's propped up against the headboard on the bed, legs stretched out before him and crossed at his ankles. Fingers laced calmly over his stomach, his only movement besides the pacific rise and fall of his chest was the oscillation of his head as he watched you pace the length of his hotel room.

His smile was small, curious. "Do you really think it's that big a deal, Y/n?"

"Yes, JJ!" you froze in place at the end of the bed, turned to face him. "We've been dating for three months and none of the guys knew until now. I knew we should've told them before–"

"They probably didn't even notice–"

"Stop, Jide, they noticed. Did you see the way Ethan looked at me? I've never seen his face so red in my life."

JJ shrugged, possessing a calmness that you wished you could reciprocate. Still smiling lightly, he muttered, "Well I guess you haven't seen many of his gaming videos, then."

"No. No, this is not the time for jokes," you snapped, hand out in front of you as if to ward off his nonchalance. "JJ, this..." You lowered your tone before you continued, combing your raised hand through your hair in exasperation. "That was inappropriate."

JJ emitted a low, in-your-throat chuckle, the very one that was making you fall in love with him. His joy, though slight, was something you felt deep in the pit of your stomach.

"I know, baby," he continued, replacing his inquisitive smile with a dark smirk. "That's why I'm so surprised it was your idea."

Your breath hitched and your cheeks began to burn instantly. It wasn't that same burn you'd felt when JJ had touched you, though; no, it wasn't nearly that pleasant. That burn had been addicting, intoxicating, followed that path that the pads of his fingers dragged across your skin under the dinner table, under your dress. You weren't sure why you'd asked; maybe you'd had too much wine. But when you, in a manner that you'd believed to be private between only the two of you, leaned over to him and told him to touch you right then and there, it had seemed like an okay thing to do, and JJ had obliged without objection. He would do anything for you, always.

You swallowed thickly and stared down at your feet, still donning the heeled sandals Sarah had gotten you for your birthday last month. You were rendered speechless; JJ was right. You had orchestrated the act that you so completely regretted now. And you were certain that the flush on Ethan's face that you'd randomly glanced up to see across the dinner table immediately after the fact was nothing compared to the one on yours.

Surely he'd told all the others. There had been too many people there, too many conversations going on for you to think anyone else had paid attention to the two of you. All of the guys, the guys' friends, and the guys' girlfriends–those who had them, that is–had come to the dinner. But if Ethan had told one of them what he thought was going on, they would all know by the end of the night, definitely.

But maybe this wasn't a bad thing. You'd wanted everyone to know the truth months ago, when you and JJ had first decided to progress your friendship to something more. He was so different than what everyone said, and yet very much the same. Different in the way he touched you, so delicately, as if you were a flower that would wither away before him if he was not very gentle. And yet the same in the way that he joked with you, teased you until you were embarrassed and giggly, had no shame in saying or doing anything. But for these things you could not judge him; you were exactly the same way, and you'd discovered that through fitting so well with him.

"Y/n." JJ was calling your name from the bed. You looked back up at him, still clad in his bright white dress shirt that he'd worn to the group dinner, tight, with its collar up and top three buttons undone. His silver tie hung undone around his shoulders and his suit jacket was cast over the armchair by his suitcase. You let your gaze drift up to his face, and concern riddled his expression.

"Jide..." you drifted around the side of the bed to perch on the mattress beside him, a hand on his chest. "I just don't want the boys to find out about our relationship like this."

"Like how?"

"... you know."

He did know. "No?"

You hit him lightly, once, demanded, "Stop grinning at me like that. You're terrible."

"Y/n, say it, I'm lost."

"You're not, you dick head," you snapped, flustered yet again. Nevertheless, you lowered your voice and explained through gritted teeth, "I just don't want the boys to find out about our relationship through an account of you fingering me under a fucking dinner table."

JJ chuckled again, and, being paired with your closeness to him, it sent vibrations through your own body. "Is that what happened, yeah?"

"Stop," you demanded, a bit in vain. His grin was infectious. "If Ethan's told them then they probably think we're just fucking about."

"Then let's tell them we're not," he resolved plainly. Unlacing his fingers, he placed one hand gently at your hip and one on the hand you had rested upon his chest, moving them until they laid together above his heart.

You were soothed by his calm breathing, his easy smile, and his deep brown eyes–the deep brown of winter trees at twilight, stripped bare but not dead. They were like him, like what he made you: strong, shameless, alive.

"It's not that easy, Jide."

"No?" His hand on your hip drifted down your thigh, stopped at the hem of the skirt of your dress. "Not as easy as me fingering you in the middle of dinner?"

Your leg was burning as it had an hour before, but your face was burning like it had been minutes ago, in utter humiliation. You steadied your breathing, matching your heart rate to the pace of JJ's that you could feel through his chest, your small fingers still encased by his own gentle grip.

"Stop saying it," you demanded, hating the way it made you feel.

"You had no problem saying it while waiting for your lobster," JJ mused, voice deep and low. "You said a lot of things."

"And I regret them all," you told him, laughing shortly. Once the both of you had relaxed, the fingers on JJ's one hand still dancing delicately at the bottom of your dress, you allowed yourself to make a decision. "We have to tell them. I don't even care about whatever Ethan saw or said or said he saw. I'm tired of sneaking around with you. They got us different hotel rooms, for goodness' sake."

JJ nodded, understanding. "I hate having to hide you, Y/n. And I hate having to pretend like I don't want to look at you all the goddamn time because I really fucking do."

You laughed, so he laughed. And in one swift motion he'd curled both of his arms around you and flipped you over on the bed so you were on your back looking up at him. He was on his side to your left, propped up by an elbow.

"I gotta go shower," he murmured, tracing circles on your stomach with his free hand. "Unless of course there's something else–"

"No, go, I've been humiliated enough for one day," you told him, pushing at his chest and laughing quietly.

JJ mirrored your grin and pressed his hand against your cheek, bringing his head toward you. And when he kissed you, slowly and delicately, you wrapped your arms around his his neck and held him close, loving the way his cologne smelled and the way he made you feel. He was pulling away from you and reminding you that he needed to shower with a smirk on his face in a moment that you thought had come quite too soon, but you let him go nevertheless.

He drifted off toward the bathroom, then turned back around to face you, unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way. "Breakfast tomorrow, yeah?"

"What?"

"We tell them? The others, about us."

"Oh." You shouldn't have been nervous, but you were. Neither you nor JJ were relationship people, or you hadn't been before each other, and all of your friends knew that. But maybe they suspected it. Or maybe they thought you'd be good for each other. Whatever the outcome, you were glad you had JJ behind you. No one could calm you down like he could.

"Yes," you agreed. "Tomorrow."