Taekook Smuts and Drabbles

wishlist

THIS BELONGS TO @thruspring ON AO3

Jeongguk is at the point of intoxication where all the shots and stolen sips from his friends' drinks are starting to catch up with him. The lurid pink and green club lights are swimming, the bodies packed on the dance floor closing around him and gyrating with varying levels of raunchiness to club mixes of today's biggest hip hop and pop hits. A strobe light casts everything into stop motion, Jeongguk catching glimpses of faces and bodies mid-dance around him. Feeling the room shift, Jeongguk trudges away from the heat and the musk of the dance floor, passing the crowded bar on his way to the men's restroom.

There's a chronic stench of something icky in the bathroom that makes him daydream of Lysol and hand sanitizer as he doubles over the toilet bowl and promptly spills at least four of however many radioactive-blue shots he'd tossed back a short while ago. The bartender had dubbed them "cop killers" and Jeongguk and his friends had just thought that was the most hilarious thing (considering they were already five shots deep each at that point and Jeongguk hasn't eaten since he'd fought Hoseok over half a bag of peanut M&M's while they were waiting for Jimin to reach hairstyle perfection, and Jeongguk might know how long ago that was if he could trust himself to hold his cell phone to check the time without dropping it in the toilet).

"Hey man, you done in there yet?"

Jeongguk's eyelids peel back, head bobbing unsteadily on his neck as he distantly registers he's currently a heap of too-tight clothes and regrets on the floor of a men's bathroom stall at a dance clubbed named... cherry something. Cherry bomb. Cherry factory. Cherry cheesecake, Cheesecake Factory, damn he's hungry.

"Dude, can you get up or not? I'm gonna call someone in here to kick you out if you're that fucked up."

Jeongguk curses under his breath and drags himself to his feet. He doesn't get quite so far as to actually evacuate the bathroom stall, but he does come to a passable seated position on top of the toilet lid. Everything is great when you're drunk - you're miraculously better at things (karaoke, dance-offs, flirting, rapid shot consumption) except basic motor function shit like operating a toilet handle.

Another few raps on the door startles a delayed flinch out of Jeongguk as he peers through the crack in the bathroom stall door at the sliver of a dark figure shifting impatiently on the other side.

"Sorry, man, just a minute," Jeongguk mumbles, swallowing hard at the sick feeling pushing up his throat as he drags himself to his feet. When he finally pries the door open and emerges, the guy regards him with a curled upper lip and a roll of his eyes before pushing past Jeongguk into the stall.

Jeongguk stumbles up to the sink and leans over, blinking blearily at his reflection. He clumsily rubs his face down with some cold water and dries off before sway-walking back out into the thumping main floor of the club.

Fresh air - he could use some fresh air.

He manages to find the stairs. Did he come up stairs on the way here? He can't remember for shit at this point, but his feet are already taking him downward, brain lagging behind at the top of the banister. He sees another bar, less busy than the one upstairs by the dancefloor but still heavily crowded by women in skin-tight minidresses and men in button-downs. Spotting an exit sign, he fumbles his way toward it and almost sighs in relief that it's not an emergency exit.

Failing on his first attempt at pushing through the door, he reels back a bit and then gives it a hard shove, metal creaking and cold air from outside blasting in as he slips out into a dark alleyway.