WHO: Dixon Albatroz & Seo-jun Jeong WHAT: Real friends unzip each other’s dresses WHEN: idk lmfao WHERE: b52, q05 WARNINGS: Brief mentions of sex that should be read in the Spongebob Narrator’s voice
“Can you believe how skimpy these Dia De Muertos costumes have gotten and yet they’re just efficient enough with these strips of fabric to make a death trap made out of cloth,” Dix said, rambling in his usual deadpan as he let himself into Seo-jun’s room, and stopped a few steps from the door.
The sight of him was inappropriate on so many levels. Maybe even all of them. One, the holiday was weeks ago; two, he was practically naked save for the bits of costume that altogether made up a space pirate with random vampire themes thrown in; and three, it was Dix. In Seo-jun’s room.
“In other words,” he continued while lifting a hand to pull at the collar currently trying to strangle him, and paused when he heard the sound of fabric tearing apart at the seams over his shoulders, “I’m stuck.”
He should’ve locked his door, honestly. His fault. Seo-jun barely glanced up, at first, when he heard Dix entering the room. One quick look up, and then back to his book — wait — another glance back up, longer this time as he actually processed Dix’s outfit. His brows furrowed, which was the only reaction he gave for several moments.
Seo-jun pulled himself together enough to let out a vaguely irritated sigh, setting down his book as he stood and walked over. He reached out to help Dix, and then stopped just short. “Is this two sizes too small?”
A pause.
“What … Are you supposed to be?” Seo-jun instantly regretted the question. It was inviting Dix to speak extensively, which while not required to get the other man talking, was something Seo-jun actively tried to avoid.
A truly noble endeavor. Which was why Dix made doubly sure to talk as much as he could around Seo-Jun. He started by answering the first question and replied, “Everything I order to fit ends up being two sizes too small. When will I ever find something that can contain the amount of awe and masculinity that I embody: a life quest featuring Dixon Albatroz. Spoiler alert: it ends with a tastefully gruesome yet righteous death; maybe in your arms, we’ll see. Pending sequel: I come back as a cyborg and need no clothes.”
He grabbed Seo-jun’s wrist and guided the hand over to the mess of strings holding up what was supposed to be a shirt, or at least half a shirt, and was trapping his other arm in its current awkwardly bent position. “Anyway, this is act two, scene seventy-five: ‘Blackbeard the Slutty Space Pirate’ getting undressed by the hot gunner to the backdrop of some slow Ciyonce beats.”
When Dix paused there was only silence, so he clarified, “I’m taking some creative liberties.”
“It takes seventy-five scenes for you to get there, hm?” Seo-jun wondered, mostly to himself since he was barely listening to what Dix said. It was how he handled Dix, honestly. He couldn’t ingest too much of whatever fell out of the other man’s mouth or his head might explode.
His brows furrowed briefly as he regarded the mess of strings. He could just tear them off, or cut them, or try delicately unweaving Dix from his costume. One sounded like it’d take all night, and it wasn’t really the way he wanted to spend his evening.
“I’m cutting this off,” he said, moving away just enough to grab a small knife from his night stand. “Be still.”
Dix remained obediently still for a moment longer while he contemplated whether to argue the motion or not. On one hand, cutting it apart defeated the whole purpose of staying in his current, contorted position to avoid ruining the costume. On the other hand, he had been in this contorted position for a while and being uncomfortable got old fast.
He stayed still. Star would simply have to buy another costume next year. “Okay, but no bringing the knife to the bed later,” Dix said, watching Seo-jun tear through the sleeve and free his arm. “Jesus, that feels good.” His fingers curled and he stretched his arm out, and, with a smirk that slanted his mouth too wide to be truly grateful, Dix said, “I could kiss you.”
“How did you know about my kinks?” The statement was plain and dry, with no hint of seriousness or humor attached to it. Seo-jun didn’t even make eye contact with Dix while he said it, he simply continued on cutting him out of his clothes. That thought did give him slight pause, and he stopped just short of slicing through one of the very last strings, just for a moment. Once he cut through, Dix was free, and Seo-jun flipped the knife shut and tossed it back onto the table. It landed with an unceremonious clatter and went back to being, for the moment, forgotten.
“You may not.”
Dix rolled his shoulders and stepped from the pile of fabric strips at his feet. If he were more polite then he would’ve scooped them up and placed them in the trash, but that was a strong if. Instead he spread his arms and took another step closer to Seo-jun. “Are you going to give me some clothes or do I have to make the walk of shame back to my room naked,” he asked, brow arched.
[ Two sex later ]
Seo-jun glanced over at the clock on his night stand, but his glasses were obstructing the view just slightly. He considered sitting up just enough, but the time wasn’t that important. Instead, his gaze shifted to Dix lying beside him, appreciating the momentary silence that sex seemed to cast from the other man. It would shatter quickly, of course, which made the quiet all the more appreciated. Dix was already opening his mouth, so Seo-jun cut him off.
“I’m not giving you clothes.” His glasses were knocked askew by a carelessly swung arm.
Dix sat up and forewent the apology, and instead reached over the edge of the bed for Seo-jun’s shirt to wipe himself off. The balled up shirt was tossed over for him to do the same and Dix replied, “Right, because I’m taking them.” Dropping his gaze down to Seo-jun lying on the bed, Dix smirked and added, “Not that one.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers.” Seo-jun hated the saying, but it was useful now, and Seo-jun often operated in the terms of ‘what’s of use’ for whatever moment he was in. Why else would he sleep with Dixon Albatroz, after all.
He shut his eyes, and put one arm behind his head. It was an image of forced relaxation, but in truth he was still tense because there was another presence in his bed. Another person in his space. He felt Dix could sense this, and the other man was relentless when he wanted to be.
“Why don’t you put back on that pile of strings you called a costume and scamper back to your own closet.”
Dix glanced over at the pile that was still on the floor and shrugged. “I’m going to need a lot more glue and you a lot more patience if I want to make it back to my room without offending Lux’s delicate sensibilities.” Now there was an idea, but the frosty corridors of the b52 were a significant contributing factor toward walking around with his junk covered.
He slid off the bed and squeezed his way into Seo-jun’s pants, probably more than two sizes too small. Whatever. They were coming off again soon anyway; he needed to shower. Dix looked back at the bed and nodded toward the door. “Scampering away,” he said, “You can pick these up at my room this time next week?”