The King Likes Men

•8•

Kim Seokjin is having certain difficulties in breathing at the moment.

Basically, his heart feels like it's going to jump out of his chest. Maybe he should run for his life now before he embarrasses himself. He's been used to people watching him cook, but not like this. This was different. This was unsettling.

When Taehyung told him that there was a condition for him to be able to use the kitchen he didn't think it meant the King would be watching him so tentatively. At the moment, said king is sitting on a chair with his legs crossed, elbow propped up on a knee and chin resting on the palm of his hand. He wore a set of white silk pajamas that had a neck that was way too low to be considered a minor distraction.

Oh and glasses. The King wore glasses.

At this proximity, Jin is embarrassed at his simple cotton plaid pajamas. He looked fluffy, not at all good looking nor manly like the man that was watching him as if he would vanish if he took his eyes off of him. The guy is literally following his every move like a hawk. 

"Can I ask a question, Your Highness?" the elder asks as he flips some pieces of meat over on the pan. Maybe if they talk a bit this wouldn't feel so awkward. Seokjin is good at small talk, consider it the results of his improv classes.

"You may."

Seokjin blushes at hearing his deep voice. That tone should be illegal on men like him. "If you wanted to taste my cooking so badly, you could've just had someone bring you a plate, but to come all the way here and watch me cook. . ." How should he put this? He feels flattered? A bit creeped out maybe?

His Majesty straightens in his seat. "I've made you uncomfortable," he notes. A statement, not a question. 

"No! No!" Seokjin protests, lying through his teeth. The king is looking at him with these big puppy eyes and Seokjin suddenly feels bad. "Okay, maybe a little?"

The blonde sighs. "Seems like I came off a bit too strong," he comments. Mostly to himself.

Seokjin doesn't deny it.

"Truth is," The King begins hesitantly, scratching his jaw a bit, "I want to get to know you a bit? You made a good impression on me so I just wanted to talk for a bit. Perhaps if this is too much then consider it as getting to know each other as friends first?"

"Friends?" Seokjin repeats, thinking he heard wrong. The King's nod, however, says otherwise. Then there's that look again, the one where Seokjin finds himself having a hard time saying no.

"Do you not want to, Seokjin-ssi?" He looks almost disappointed. Almost as if he were some sort of sad puppy. Seokjin hesitates.

It wasn't that he didn't want to. It just felt as if he couldn't. Could a simple pedestrian such as himself be friends with the King? It seemed something very odd. As if he wasn't worthy to even be in the same room as him.

But that face. Ugh, that face. It looked like it was begging for him say yes. "That's. . . fine," he finds himself answering after a few passing seconds, though still doubting the whole situation in general.

The King practically beams at his answer. Fuck. There were those dimples. And if Seokjin where a dentist, he'd be completely enamored with this guy's teeth.  "Well, then how about we start with you calling me by my name," The King asks, all too eager. He lifts himself from his seat and made his way over to the elder, stopping only a few inches away from him. "You can call me Namjoon," he states, dark eyes piercing into Jin's.

Let's not get to informal, Seokjin tells himself. "Namjoon-ssi," he says carefully as if he could somehow wrong His Majesty's name. The King —Namjoon, he corrects himself— smiles at hearing his name on the elder's lips. "And then what?" Jin asks curiously, letting himself be guided by this man.