Chapter Text
A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment.
– Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
🍓 🌟 💍 🌟 🍓
The first time Jeon Jungkook sees his husband is on a Friday morning in June. By all accounts, it’s a beautiful day for a wedding. The flowers are in bloom, the birds are chirping delightfully and the sun is out in full force.
He guesses it’s normal to be nervous right before a wedding, especially if it’s your own. His heart beats fast as he gets out of the sleek black limousine after Taehyung, who looks perfectly handsome in his rented suit. He doesn’t begrudge the guy from the production team (Heeseok, Hoseok? he thinks. There’s so many people around them at all times that it’s hard to keep up with all the names and faces) a look at Taehyung’s sculpted side profile.
Hoseok – yes, definitely Hoseok, he realises – steps a little closer to him and straightens the mic pinned to his lapel. There’s thin wires running over his shoulder, all the way down his back to where they’re attached to a carefully hidden mic pack. When Hoseok is satisfied, he motions for the cameramen to start rolling again. Jungkook honestly hadn’t noticed they’d even stopped. The past week had been a flurry of cameras filming him everywhere: at work, out for drinks with Taehyung, the day he went home to tell his parents about going on the show – which made for quality reality TV, that’s for sure. They had filmed everything, just barely stopping short of recording him on the loo.
But he’s excited, too: you don’t get married everyday. The suit he wears fits him to a tee, and he personally thinks the pink tie complements his complexion very well. The shoes, though, which are new, pinch horribly. They’re tight-fitting and rather boring dress shoes. He’d asked the ladies in Wardrobe whether he couldn’t just wear his Docs, but their horrified expressions had said enough. And Taehyung, incredulous, had said, “You want your husband’s first impression of you to be that his husband wears Dr Martens to his own wedding?”
Taehyung’s words seemed to make sense at the time, to a degree.
Because of course, Jeon Jungkook is marrying a perfect stranger.
Now, though, as he makes his way towards the aisle, he finds he’s not able to move his little toe at all, and he thinks that maybe a husband who’d judge him for wearing cool and comfy boots to his wedding, isn’t the right husband for him anyway. The pinching sensation is so distracting and numbing that Hoseok has to nudge him and whisper insistently that they’re here. Into an earpiece, he mumbles that they’ll edit some voice-over onto this, to make him look less awkward and flavourless, and more like a nervous puddle of a human being about to get married.
Jungkook wants to tell him he’s not really nervous, he’s excited in fact, his shoes are just shitty, but Taehyung pulls him to the bottom of the aisle, squeezing his hand and telling him break a leg before he skips his way down the aisle.
And then it’s happening.
Jungkook barely registers the cameras behind him, at his side, overhead, and in front of him, because when he steps onto the aisle, all he sees is him: the most beautiful man he has ever seen. His lips part in surprise as his eyes roam over the man’s tall figure. The guy is all broad shoulders and an inhumanely tiny cinched waist. Soft brown hair swept effortlessly from his forehead and his face. God, his face. Full lips and eyes so sharp it feels like they might pin Jungkook’s feet to his spot on the aisle.
Jungkook thinks he’s already in love.
“Go,” Hoseok whispers at his side, standing just behind Camera 7. The wedding march starts to play and the guests rise to their feet. On one side, his friends and family: his father is stonily staring ahead, his mother smiles through gritted teeth, and his brother just sends him a thumbs up, one hand resting on their mother’s shoulder in an obvious attempt to appease her. On the other side, far less crowded, his husband-to-be’s entourage is craning their necks to check him out, and he’s not sure what any of those looks mean.
By the time that Jungkook is halfway down the aisle (do not trip, do not fucking trip, Jeon Jungkook) he looks back up to the man ahead of him and his heart stops when he notices the look of abject horror on his husband-to-be’s face. His lips are curled downward and his eyes have grown slightly larger. They flit over to his best man, and together, they speak in a language only best friends understand. Jungkook, however, is fluent, too, what with having Taehyung. He knows that look to mean, What the hell is this? What am I doing?
Oh, now he’s feeling those nerves. He can imagine Hoseok rubbing his hands from somewhere behind him. Perhaps this was a set-up. What if this guy expected a woman. What if they put the two of them together because Pretty Boy is a bigot and an asshole? He certainly looks like it, despite the otherwise handsome exterior.
He swallows down his nerves and recites his mantra: it’s an adventure, it’s an adventure, it’s an adventure. In a way, yeah, having an asshole for a husband could be an adventure. Certainly, he thinks, it’ll make for a couple of spectacular episodes of Surprise Spouse.
Despite everything, he flashes the man a bright smile and a wave when he reaches the top of the aisle. “Hi, I’m Jeon Jungkook!”
The man is only slightly taller than Jungkook is (should have worn his Docs then, after all) and the difference in height gives him the advantage of being able to look at Jungkook down his nose, which seems to wrinkle in distaste. His eyes flit towards Jungkook’s hand, still raised in a wave, which is perhaps slightly ridiculous. Jungkook drops his hand immediately. Still, though, the guy keeps looking at his hand.
“Oh yeah, I have tattoos,” Jungkook says. “Designed some of these myself, actually.”
And oh, God. The man’s eyebrows rise up the immaculate expanse of his forehead ever so slightly, and then he looks over at his friend and meets his eyes. Jungkook translates the exchange as: Are you seeing this? and This is what you signed up for, but yes, I agree, what were you thinking?
So Jungkook thinks he’s fucked, but he’ll be damned if social media will paint him into the villain, so he smiles brightly at his future husband and his friend. “It’s nice to meet you. What’s your name?”
“Kim Seokjin,” Kim Seokjin says with slightly narrowed eyes. “You don’t watch a lot of TV, do you?”
“I mean, I like anime?”
Seokjin rolls his eyes, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a disbelieving grin. “For heaven’s sake…” he says, just loud enough to be picked up by the microphone pinned to his lapel and, unfortunately, Jungkook.
The officiant clears his throat, and then they’re off, and suddenly Jungkook is getting married. He thinks it’s more abject insanity than an adventure at this point, and thinks of how hard it’s going to be to have to admit to his mother that she was right in proclaiming him to be an idiot when he looks into Seokjin’s eye and speaks his (well-Googled) wedding vows. Promising Seokjin a lifetime of support and fun and adventures. He can’t help but notice Seokjin’s pretty nose wrinkling up again at the word fun, and hence the word adventure comes out with more frustrated emphasis than he’d intended when he jotted them down on his paper.
Seokjin promises loyalty and support and his voice is so beautiful, but he sounds like someone might be holding a gun to the back of his head. Hoseok, possibly, Jungkook thinks. It would be horrible if Seokjin were to back out now.
Jungkook knows it’s not real, none of this is real, legally speaking, but still he feels a rush of adrenaline surge through his body when he holds Seokjin’s (soft, unfortunately) hand in his own and says, “Yes, I do.”
Seokjin looks constipated (but gracefully so) when he forces the words out of his mouth. “Yes… I… do.”
And because this is television, and because maybe Jungkook is a nervous wreck after all, he turns his head towards the camera and laughs, “He looks excited, doesn’t he?”
Seokjin’s face flushes with anger and embarrassment. “Jungkook–”
From behind him, Jungkook can hear Taehyung swallow down his incredulous giggle. At Seokjin’s side, his friend raises both eyebrows, lips parting in surprise as he looks between Seokjin and Jungkook, and then into the camera. (Like he’s in The Office, Jungkook’s mind unhelpfully supplies. See? He watches TV. Plenty of it, actually.)
The officiant says, “Usually, a wedding ceremony is concluded with–”
“Oh, God,” Seokjin mutters.
“Be a good sport, Seokjin,” Jungkook says, in a manner which he thinks is convincingly cheerful. Seokjin’s face drops even further when he hears him say it, so it seems he’s successful. Seokjin must be anti-fun as well as a bigot and an asshole. “It’s just a kiss!”
Seokjin’s face grows even redder, and Jungkook thinks ridding Seokjin of his composure is going to be a fun challenge over the next couple of weeks of filming.
“Alright,” Seokjin says in the end. “Fine.”
“Nice,” Jungkook grins. He leans in and, without further ado, presses his lips to Seokjin’s. He’s unresponsive for a second until something, Jungkook isn’t sure what, seems to happen inside of his head. (Seokjin’s possibly remembering Hoseok and his subtle threat of I want good television, you understand?) He kisses back. Seokjin kisses him back, tilting his head just so and allowing Jungkook to capture his lips.
Jungkook isn’t sure how long it lasts, but it’s disturbingly nice. Seokjin’s lips are plush and soft and warm and he finds Seokjin’s bottom lip fits perfectly between his own. He pulls away with a loud pop and when he looks at Seokjin, he sees his eyes have grown wide and round. His lips are still parted, poised for another kiss, and Jungkook doesn’t think about it, just closes the distance between them and kisses Seokjin again.
The next time they break apart, Seokjin is blinking rapidly. He presses one of his hands to his face, glowing bright red. “That’s… that’s sufficient, isn’t it?”
“I’d say so?” The officiant smiles, looking towards the members of staff.
Jungkook doesn’t follow her line of sight, but he knows Hoseok and his team must be nodding in satisfaction. What with having no fewer than seven cameras on them, Jungkook imagines they could make one of those kissing compilations like they do in romantic dramas. They’d put it in slow motion and show the kiss from every angle. He wonders whether Seokjin is going to be the one blinking slowly like a fish, lips pursed.
Seokjin still looks confused, which is not a look Jungkook wants his partners to have after he’s just kissed them, but at least it’s one step up from abject horror. He seems to swallow down whatever he’s thinking, because suddenly he clears his throat and straightens up. God, he’s tall and broad. Fuck.
As per instructions, they walk down the aisle to at first hesitant, then growing applause from their friends and family. Jungkook slips his hand into Seokjin’s and whispers, “Cameras.”
Seokjin purses his lips and offers a nod, his hand in Jungkook’s relaxing ever so slightly. (Baby steps.)
The whole show runs like clockwork – Surprise Spouse has run for six seasons already, so when they step onto the sidewalk, a limousine covered in red roses and banners is already waiting for them.
Hoseok stands to the side with a short guy brandishing a clipboard. When Jungkook swings open the door to the car and gestures for Seokjin to get inside, he can see the guy (again: names are something of an issue here on account of the sheer number of new people Jungkook has met) cross something off his list with a practised flick of his wrist.
And then they’re whisked off to the hotel. Apparently small mercies do exist, because the ride passes in mere minutes. Before they can head to their own wedding reception, though, Jungkook and Seokjin are pushed into the lift and sent up to the roof. All alone in a lift with his new husband… Aside from the cameraman, the sound guy, and that dude with the clipboard, of course, who are all anxiously exchanging glances when Seokjin purses his lips and refuses to speak to Jungkook.
Why join a show like Surprise Spouse if you’re going to be such a sore loser? Jungkook wonders.
The rooftop is a sea of red and white roses, cascading like waves and crashing into the not one, not two, but five different cameras set up across the roof.
(During his audition, they’d told him to just ignore the cameras. How?)
There are fairy lights everywhere and up ahead, there’s a stunning view of the Seoul skyline now that dusk is painting it in delicate oranges and pinks. Jungkook’s fingers itch with the phantom feeling of a paint brush. All around them, speakers play gentle Mozart or Beethoven or whatever composers people put into Romantic Classical Music playlists on Spotify these days; it sounds pretty, and Jungkook won’t complain.
All in all, if any of this were real, Jungkook would consider it the most romantic place he’d ever been.
The short blonde guy with the clipboard gestures for them to come over to the edge of the roof. Jungkook skips over but when he notices that Seokjin isn’t following immediately, he glances behind him. Seokjin’s face is contorted in a frown, but it’s not so much disgust as it is something else, this time around.
“You okay?”
Seokjin swallows and gives a curt nod, moving forward slowly. It looks as though he has to hype himself up for every step he takes.
Jungkook turns back to look at the beautiful city stretched out before him. From the top floor, he thinks he might almost be able to see his own home in the far distance, it’s that high.
And. Oh. Ah.
He swivels around and turns to Clipboard. “How about we take pictures over there?” He suggests, pointing at the pretty, rose-covered arch in the middle of the roof.
Clipboard frowns, looks at his clipboard, then at Seokjin, and then exchanges a look with Hoseok, who promptly returns it with a shake of the head. He says, “No, we’ll take pictures there, later. First, we’d like to take some pictures of the happy couple with the city in the background.”
“Such a great view,” Hoseok comments. “From this height.”
Seokjin’s face grows even whiter and Jungkook wishes he were more of an asshole, that he’d be able to gloat at Seokjin’s obvious fear, but he can’t. He likes to think that if the two of them got locked in a tiny room, Seokjin would do his best to get Jungkook out, despite being rude and stand-offish.
(He probably wouldn’t.)
“But with the light from behind us,” he argues, “these pictures will turn out rubbish. Trust me.”
“They can do anything in Photoshop these days, I’m told,” Clipboard says. At least he has the decency to offer him some sort of apologetic grimace. “We’ll just take a couple of shots, alright?”
“But–”
“Let’s not keep them waiting, Jungkook,” Seokjin says. He takes a deep breath and strides across the roof. When he reaches the edge, his wide shoulders grow stiff and he resolutely does not look over the edge.
“Small confined spaces for me,” Jungkook says, offering Seokjin a tiny smile. He hopes it’s reassuring. “And mice. God, I hate mice. They have no business being so small and speedy.”
Seokjin raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
Jungkook gestures at the air behind them. “You’re not afraid of heights?”
“Of course I’m not, I thought your little spiel there meant you were.” Seokjin tilts his chin up a little. Jungkook curses his handsomeness, and promptly regrets not putting Seokjin through it a little more. To think he’d wanted to save him from having to look down at the ground from all the way up here.
Looks like Seokjin is perfectly capable of looking down at things, though.
“I’m not afraid of heights,” Jungkook replies. He puffs out his chest a little. He hates that he’s just that little bit shorter than Seokjin. And, by the looks of it, Seokjin is slightly older than him, too. Two things Seokjin has over him. “So if neither of us is afraid of heights, we can take some pretty cool photos, huh?” He takes a few steps back until the railing hits his back. He leans back and smiles as the breeze sets his hair afloat, and spreads his arms wide.
Seokjin’s mouth drops open. “We… we could do that. We don’t have to, though?” His voice lilts up as though in a question. Or a plea. But, Jungkook thinks, he’d offered Seokjin an out and he’d gracelessly shucked it.
So he flashes Seokjin a cheeky grin and says, “But the view is so gorgeous from up here, Seokjin.” His grin morphs into a laugh when Seokjin’s cheeks blanch even more.
Clipboard and Hoseok eventually manage to get them into position and for half an hour or so, Jungkook stands on a windy rooftop with a stranger’s arms wrapped around his waist. Seokjin is awkward in his movements, a little wooden, and Jungkook has to nudge him a few times to make him relax.
They seem to love torture, Clipboard and Hoseok, because they make the two of them move even closer to the ledge. When Jungkook notices Seokjin stiffen, he offers to be the one to hold him now instead. He hopes that the hand he rests on Seokjin’s stomach is a little reassuring, but he also kinda hopes that Seokjin is afraid of a freak accident causing them to topple off the building.
A happy medium, perhaps.
The photographer keeps snap-snap-snapping, until all Jungkook registers are the sounds of the shutter and Hoseok’s instructions, which happen to include, “And now, kissing.”
Jungkook stiffens.
“Kissing?”
He looks at Seokjin, who sighs deeply and groans, “We have to kiss again?”
“Excuse me? I’m an excellent kisser. Not many people get to be kissed by me.” Seokjin’s eyebrows shoot up. “You don’t believe me? Or you disagree?”
Seokjin doesn’t dignify that with a reply, which is definitely a little fucked up. Technically, Jungkook hadn’t really minded the kiss at the altar. It was a good kiss. Ish. Seokjin’s lips felt nice on his own, or whatever. He wouldn’t mind kissing him again. Seokjin’s experiences, however, must have been different.
“Well, let’s get to it, then.”
Seokjin nods and steps a little closer. “Do we just–?”
“I guess? Don’t be too blown away by my kissing skills, though,” Jungkook can’t help but add.
“Oh, please, you’re so full of yourself.”
“Me?”
“Yes, becau–” Seokjin can’t finish his sentence, because Jungkook leans in and kisses him hard. He grabs a fistful of Seokjin’s jacket and pulls him closer. Seokjin nearly stumbles, and Jungkook is mindful of being close to the edge and a freak accident not being entirely impossible, so he wraps his other hand around Seokjin’s waist to steady him.
Seokjin kisses back instantly, though, unlike before. He tilts his head and his hands fly up to cup Jungkook’s cheeks. And fuck, it’s a good kiss. Their lips fit together perfectly, sliding together in perfect harmony. Jungkook tries to coax Seokjin’s mouth open and is rewarded with Seokjin trying to coax Jungkook’s mouth open instead, before Jungkook at last manages to do it, his tongue curling against Seokjin’s hotly.
So basically: he’s french kissing a perfect stranger.
They share open mouthed kisses, wet and hot. When they at last pull back, Seokjin’s breathing comes in deep and fast gasps.
“Tell me that wasn’t an exceptional kiss,” Jungkook says. Seokjin’s eyes are round and wide, his cheeks flushed. It’s pretty. He looks pretty.
But then Seokjin rolls his eyes. “That? That was average at best. Come on, don’t tell me you think that was exceptional.”
“Oh my God, you’re insufferable,” Jungkook lets out. “Just admit that you liked the kiss! It’s not that hard.”
“Well.” Seokjin tilts up his chin. “I didn’t.”
“Oh, fuck you.”
“Guys?” Clipboard interrupts, a pink blush dusted across his cheeks. He holds his clipboard in a clenched fist and ticks off a box resolutely. “I think we’ve got plenty now?”
“Thank fuck,” Seokjin sighs.
Hoseok steps forward, “Gentle reminder, guys, we’d prefer no swearing on the show. We want to keep it family friendly, yes?”
In tandem, Seokjin and Jungkook flip him off.
Seokjin’s cheeks are still tinged pink when they step back into the lift. Jungkook thinks that in the time they spent on the rooftop, things have grown even more awkward (which he hadn’t thought possible), and he’s learned these things about his husband so far:
- Seokjin is an asshole. Unmitigated, plain, no-nonsense. Just an asshole. Not even in an interesting way, he’s just plain boringly asshole-ish.
- Seokjin is, unfortunately, a fantastic kisser.
- Seokjin is afraid of heights.
- Seokjin doesn’t like that Jungkook clocked the above mentioned fact.
- Seokjin wants to be right at all times.
- And oh, Jungkook will prove him wrong.
Here’s something Jungkook does not know about his husband though:
- Why the fuck would you go on a reality wedding show if you’re this unwilling to play the part? None of it’s real, anyway, not legally or emotionally binding or whatever. Jungkook will play the part with gusto: he’ll be handsome and slightly mischievous and be the best reality TV husband the world has ever seen and Seokjin will be hailed as the most hated reality TV contestant ever.
- What the fuck is up with Seokjin, anyway.
The wedding reception is in full-swing when they arrive. More cameras have popped up around the hall, and some are set up in discreet corners where willing family members and friends can sit down in front of a green screen and say something like, I’m sure they’re an amazing match, or, Seokjin seems totally the right type of guy for Jungkook.
It’s loud, though. The room is badly sound-proofed and the guests’ raucous chattering echoes through the reception hall. It feels a little as though the noise is running in circles around his head, and it’s making it distressingly hard to focus on annoying the hell out of his newly-minted husband with some more flashy smiles, so he just sits at the head of the table next to Seokjin and waits for his food to be served quietly.
He looks around the room as he does. Round tables fill the place and he notices something strange: only one table, it seems, is filled with Seokjin’s guests. The people in the back, he knows, are extras (Clipboard told him they’d have to fill out the entire venue, for reasons Jungkook can kind of understand: how dumb would it look if they could only put together twenty-five guests between the two of them?) But the four tables near the front and the middle are filled with Jungkook’s family, friends and colleagues from work.
But if the tables in the back are the extras, and the four tables close to their own are Jungkook’s friends, then that means that the only people who are here for Seokjin sit at the table at the far right.
“What’s with the frown?” Clipboard nudges him, pen at the ready. (Jungkook imagines him mentally preparing to write down, Groom 1 appearing sad. Needed: sappy voice-over. MILK SADNESS FOR HIGH QUALITY TV!!!!)
Jungkook shrugs but leans a little closer. “Why aren’t more of Seokjin’s friends here?”
Clipboard blinks in surprise. “I’m sure that’s a conversation you should have with your husband, but I imagine it’s on account of their work?”
“That’s stupid,” Jungkook says, a little louder than he intended to. He lowers his voice and adds, “You don’t skip out on your friend’s wedding because of work.”
If he even has friends, he wonders darkly. He watches as Seokjin moves through the reception hall and into the secluded area where, Jungkook presumes, he’ll film some video diary stuff: short scenes where they’ll be interviewed by the staff, to be edited into the episodes at fitting moments.
“Their industry, though,” Clipboard – something Min, Jungkook now thinks – just shrugs. “It’s a competitive and hard world. But,” he adds on a cheerful note, flapping his clipboard in the direction of the round table on the right. “His parents and brother are here, as are his two best friends. The tall man is Kim Namjoon and the pretty one with the cute nose is Min Yoongi.”
Jungkook bites back a laugh. He purses his lips as he looks at Clipboard. “Looking to get married yourself, I see?”
Clipboard flushes bright pink and he holds up his clipboarded hands. “Oh, no, no. Besides, doesn’t it look like the two of them are together?”
Jungkook regards Seokjin’s friends for a moment. They’re both very handsome, he’ll give Clipboard – Haemin? Heemin? Jimin? That’s it! Jimin! Park Jimin – that at least. But he’s not right about the other thing. “Look at how they’re sitting,” he tells Jimin. Namjoon sits stick-straight, whereas Yoongi is leaning back in his seat, one leg crossed over the other. They’re not touching and there’s a good few feet between them. “You’re at a super romantic wedding and you’re not even just… I don’t know, brushing your hand through your lover’s hair? I think you’re good.”
Jimin looks at him with raised eyebrows.
“What?” Jungkook retorts. “It’s just body language. They’re clearly not together.”
Looking down at his clipboard, Jimin purses his lips. “He is cute. But then again, I don’t know if he likes guys.”
“Only one way to find out.”
“I’m at work,” Jimin replies drolly. “I can’t go up to him and tell him I think he’s the cutest guy I’ve ever seen.”
“So what time do you get off work, then?”
Jimin stares at him, his lips parting ever so slightly as though Jungkook has just asked the stupidest question in the universe. He realises that he has asked the stupidest question in the universe when Jimin says, “Jungkook. I get off work when the cameras get turned off. Which, given your and your husband’s propensity to bickering, may be some hours yet.”
“Oh.”
Suddenly, Jungkook feels a menacing presence at his back. He only has to look over his shoulder to see Hoseok emerge, his eyebrows drawn together in a stern frown. He’s looking at Jimin, though, and tells him to position the newlyweds and get on with the next scene. “Pronto,” he adds for good measure and extra threatening vibes.
“It was my fault!” Jungkook says at Hoseok’s already disappearing back. “I made him chat, he didn’t–”
Clipboard grins and shakes his head. “He looks scary, I know. But he’s my best friend, and he just wants things to be organised. And,” he adds with a glance at his watch. “I guess he too wants filming to be over before midnight. Sooo…”
Jungkook nods. “I’ll go look for Seokjin, then.” He barely misses the sly smile on Jimin’s face as he winds through the reception room, greeting guests here and there until he reaches the secluded filming space.
“My first impression?”
When he hears Seokjin speak to the camera, Jungkook flattens himself against the wall. Something in him compels him to stay there, to wait, to listen. A perverse part of him wants to hear what Seokjin thinks of him, because despite himself… Despite himself, he wants Seokjin to like him. He wants Seokjin to think Jungkook’s as beautiful as Jungkook thinks Seokjin is.
He tries to quieten his beating heart, and listens.
“My first impression…” Seokjin repeats, humming a little. Then he lets out a sharp laugh. “The first thing I noticed were his tattoos. And his long hair.”
Jungkook holds in his breath at Seokjin’s derisive tone.
“And what did you think of that?” the interviewer prompts. “Did you like him? Could you fall for him?”
Seokjin takes his time to think about his answer again, but then he says, in the driest tone Jungkook has ever heard, “I’m sure there are some people who like that sort of style. But as for me, no… He’s not the type of boy I’d fall for.” He chuckles lightly, his air of derision making the room feel icy. “He’s not the type of boy I’d fall for at all.”
After dinner, they’re once again whisked into the limousine, to be driven to a luxury hotel. Over the course of dinner (which wasn’t so much an actual dinner as it was a series of camera shots of fancy dishes on fancy plates that were whisked away before anyone could actually eat anything) Jungkook tried and failed to talk to his husband, tried and failed to talk to his mother-in-law (similar disapproving, stare-down-your-nose type of look as her son. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, he supposes), and tried and failed to talk to Seokjin’s two friends. They appeared to be friendly enough, but Yoongi was busy ogling Jimin and Namjoon seemed too uncomfortable with the entire shebang to even talk to anyone at all.
It was, to all intents and purposes, an unmitigated disaster.
Not to mention the things that Jungkook happened to overhear. He’d love to confront Seokjin about it, counter it with well, you’re not the type of boy I’d fall for, either. But firstly, his pride is too wounded and he’d never stoop to something as cowardly as all that. It would only serve to feed Seokjin’s apparent instantaneous dislike of him. Secondly, it’s not even true. Seokjin is so hot in his suit that it’s making Jungkook’s insides churn with the effort to tone down his horniness, even knowing what he knows about Seokjin now. And thirdly, Jungkook is horrifyingly aware of all the cameras pointed at his face. If he makes a scene now, he’s bound to be turned into a viral moment.
He can already imagine the headlines: Surprise Spouse Contestant Flips Because His New Husband Doesn’t Think He’s Hot. Maybe it’s kind of superficial to even think too much about it, so he tries to push it to the back of his mind as the limousine takes them to the hotel.
“That went well, overall,” Jungkook says, just to dispel the silence between them. “Don’t you think?”
The car is already too large for the two of them, but the stretch of space between him and his husband seems almost insurmountable when Seokjin raises a single eyebrow. “Did it?”
“I mean, I’d have liked to eaten some of that food, sure, but–”
“Trust me, you don’t want to eat any of that food,” Seokjin says tartly. “Lucky for your friends there was plenty to drink, huh?”
Jungkook frowns. So maybe his friends from school had ended up with a sizable collection of empty soju bottles in the centre of their table, but they were having fun. Alright, so maybe they were so loud that Hoseok had to step in to get them to tone it down a little. And fair enough, maybe Jungkook had to tell Kyungsoo to go and splash some water in his face and cool down because he was embarrassing him, but whatever. Right?
So Jungkook says, “Yes, you’re right. My friends had a lot of fun.”
That earns him another eyebrow raise from Seokjin, whose eyebrows surely can’t be natural? They’re so perfectly sculpted and eloquent. Jungkook thinks that Seokjin might just be able to have entire conversations by merely moving his eyebrows.
Jungkook sinks back into the leather upholstery, wrapping his arms in front of his chest and purposely not looking into the camera. (A feat in and of itself: he thinks there are three pointed at his face.)
Thankfully, the ride is a short one, and Jimin tells them they’ll be staying in the honeymoon suite of a hotel whose name makes Jungkook’s eyes bulge in shock. Seokjin is unresponsive, and so are his eyebrows. Is he just not impressed? Are honeymoon nights in chic hotels daily occurrences for Seokjin?
Jimin also tells them that – thank the heavens – once they’re settled in their hotel room, they’ll be left with just a night vision camera that’ll capture any significant private moments during the night. When they enter the suite, though, with the whole crew in tow, Jungkook immediately notices it’s not just one camera. There are cameras directed towards the bed from every angle.
“On the ceiling, too?” Jungkook turns to Jimin, eyebrows raised. “What are you expecting us to do, film a porno?”
Seokjin’s mouth drops open. “I am not filming a porno with you.”
“Oh,” Jungkook says easily, jerking his head in the crew’s direction. “Maybe Hoseok’s up for it! He’d have to get the stick out of your ass first, though.”
“Jungkook!” Hoseok hisses. “Remember: talking about pornographic movies on primetime television isn’t exactly family friendly.”
Seokjin is gaping at Jungkook. “Why do you think I’d bottom with him?” He throws an arm out towards Hoseok.
“Why? Is there anything wrong with bottoming?” Jungkook asks with narrowed eyes. “You’re not one of those people, are you?”
“What does that even mean?”
“You’re not one of those guys who exclusively want to top and are also judgemental about bottoming, are you?”
Seokjin’s mouth drops open and Jungkook leans in, putting two fingers underneath his chin and pushing his mouth closed. Such pretty lips, Jungkook thinks. What a shame they’re attached to a judgemental asshole like Seokjin.
“What?” croaks Seokjin. “I’m not a judgemental asshole.”
Oops.
Seokjin presses his hands to his face and groans.
“We’ll do some individual interviews in the living, now. Seokjin, I’d imagine you want to go first? Jungkook,” Hoseok says, turning towards him, “you can stay here. Maybe blow off some steam, or something.”
Seokjin is whisked off by the production team and then finally, finally, Jungkook is alone for a little while. Jimin offers him an apologetic glance before closing the door behind him.
Jungkook drops onto the bed and lets out the deepest sigh known to mankind, possibly deeper. What the fuck is he even doing? He almost wishes he hadn’t overheard Seokjin say he’s not the type of boy he’d ever fall for. Seokjin’s half-amused, half-bored tone as he said the words seems to be looping inside his brain. Not the type of boy I’d ever fall for. Not the type of boy I’d–
And to think that Jungkook is going to have to spend two months with this man. Maybe he should just pretend he never heard him say it and take his revenge by turning into exactly the type of boy he’d fall for. The type of boy anyone would fall for. He’ll have viewers scrambling to Twitter and internet forums and comment sections to declare their love for him and call Seokjin out for his boringness and general assholery.
Ugh.
He and Seokjin swap places. A make-up person dabs a little powder onto his nose before Hoseok offers a curt nod to tell them they’re rolling. Jungkook tries to be as cheerful as he can as talks a little about their day, his impressions of Seokjin (“He seems like a… a… diamond in the rough?”) and how it had felt to meet his husband and get married to him. Jungkook is good at this, knows how to harness his general klutzy and boyish vibes, and makes jokes and flirts with the camera a little.
They’ll eat him up, Jungkook thinks.
“They’ll eat you up,” is what Jimin says once the cameras are turned off and he’s stuffing his arms into a pink puffer jacket. There are bags under his eyes, and he’s the last to leave at the godforsaken hour of 23:48. Probably because he’s the clipboard guy, and he’ll have to put a check beside tucked the lovebirds into bed before he can go. “We’ll leave you two alone now. Do not kill each other. Please. And I hate to say this, but remember: if you two happen to get into a fight or something, just pause and call us first. We need a good camera set up if you fight.”
“What, do people bet on us, or something? Which one would deliver the best punches?”
“Not physical fighting, Jungkook,” Seokjin says, rolling his eyes.
Jungkook rolls his eyes back at his husband. “I know, Seokjin.” Seokjin’s eyes twitch. He doesn’t even know for sure which of them is the eldest. Probably Seokjin. Jungkook isn’t really sure he cares. “I meant verbal punches anyway. Unless you wanna go at it,” he adds, balling his fists and swinging them playfully in Seokjin’s direction.
Seokjin dodges them, nose wrinkling up in disgust.
“I’d win both, anyway,” Jungkook finishes.
Jimin looks at the pair of them. “Off record – but why the fuck did they match you two?”
Seokjin meets his eyes. “Beats me.”
Jungkook looks at Jimin, too. “Fuck if I know.”
Shrugging, Jimin says, “You’ll have to stick with it for seven more weeks anyway, so… Best get to know each other a bit, yeah?” And then he’s off, and Seokjin and Jungkook are all alone.
An hour later, Jungkook is dead tired but no closer to sleep. It had been awkward together with all those people around them, but without them and just the night vision cameras (the red dot that shows they’re recording providing something like mood light, if you will), the vibes are similar to that of an abandoned graveyard. Seokjin doesn’t speak, he just sits in the chair by the window and stares out at the night sky, Seoul lit up by a hundred neon lights.
There’s a wistfulness to him that Jungkook just doesn’t understand. You sign up for a show, you play along with it, right? What’s out there that’s making Seokjin stare at the skyscrapers as though they’re the solution to all his problems (i.e. being married to Jungkook)?
“I guess I’ll go to bed?” Jungkook says after a while. Seokjin just nods without looking at him, so Jungkook slips into the bathroom (no cameras here. Feels almost alien.) Their things are already lined up along the sink and Jungkook takes a moment to study Seokjin’s fancy toothpaste brand (whitening and strengthening!) and looks at the old-timey razor set laid out on the counter. It has a bowl and a brush for whisking up shaving cream, even. It seems uselessly high-effort to Jungkook, who manages very well indeed with his value pack of razors from the drugstore, thank you very much.
When he returns, Seokjin is still in the chair and he wonders briefly whether his husband has fallen asleep, so he clears his throat and says, “Bathroom’s free, if you want to use it.”
Seokjin isn’t asleep. He nods and stands up with more agility Jungkook would’ve expected from someone who might be pushing forty (who knows! He still doesn’t know how old Seokjin is. He might be forty. Looks like he’s freshly twenty-fucking-five, though) and pushes past Jungkook and into the bedroom.
Jungkook hates that they’re not allowed to have phones right now, and that his parents never pushed him into becoming a reader like they themselves were, because now he has nowhere to look but directly at Seokjin when he steps out of the bathroom. And, Gods have mercy, is it something to look at.
He’s shirtless. Just in a pair of sweatpants that rest low on his hips, tied ever so loosely. His stomach looks so soft that Jungkook briefly entertains the thought of burying his face in it, before he gives himself a mental slap. It won’t do to thirst after your fake husband, on account of his assholery. So what he does instead is pull his own T-shirt off over his head and jump onto the bed, shoving at the duvet and sliding underneath.
Seokjin ogles him, his eyes growing round and his lips parting ever so slightly. Jungkook knows he looks good, knows that most people tend to be fascinated with his abs and go crazy over the tattoos crawling down his arm. Still, Seokjin’s eyes on him feel different.
“I hate when hotels do this,” Jungkook clears his throat, looking away from Seokjin and violently pulling the edges of the duvet out from underneath the mattress. “I want to be able to move while I’m asleep. I’m too young for fucking mummification.”
And at last, Jungkook sees the corner of Seokjin’s lip quirk up. Or quiver. Move at the very least. Some sort of twitching that seems to imply amusement on Seokjin’s part.
“I get it,” Seokjin says. He stares at the bed for a moment in what appears to be mental preparation for a moment. Then he gingerly lifts the corner of the duvet on his side of the bed and fully yanks it upward, until the tucked-under sides of it are released. “This is way better.”
Jungkook offers him a hesitant smile. “Seems like we finally found something to agree on.”
“Yes,” Seokjin agrees. “That and sleeping shirtless.”
“I generally sleep fully in the nude,” Jungkook says with an easy shrug. (He doesn’t.) He fluffs up his pillow and punches it into the correct shape.
And Seokjin is looking at him again. Looking like that. For all his boasting about reading body language to Jimin earlier, Jungkook doesn’t know what that look means. Could honestly be anything between arousal, fear, and anger. Wouldn’t it be funny, though, if Seokjin were attracted to him despite hating his guts? Not my type, indeed!
They slip under the covers together, staring at the ceiling.
“It’s honestly very weird that they’re gonna have a camera pointed down at us while we’re asleep,” Seokjin admits. “I know some… spouses… get it on on their wedding night.”
“Most spouses, I presume,” Jungkook says, toying with the edge of the duvet. He wishes he hadn’t taken his shirt off, so he could play with the soft hem of it. There’s this one spot where he’s rubbed his thumb along it so often that it fits the groove of his finger perfectly.
Seokjin, his handsome husband, is shirtless next to him, and dislikes him. Part of him wonders what exactly it is that Seokjin doesn’t like about him, where exactly he falls short of the mark.
“Some spouses on this show, I mean,” Seokjin clarifies. “They must have exhibitionist tendencies, what with…” He waves up at the ceiling.
“On the same day they met, too,” Jungkook says, a little hesitantly. “Have kinky sex with a stranger…”
Jungkook hears rather than sees Seokjin turn his head towards him. “Don’t tell me you don’t do one night stands.”
Jungkook snorts and shakes his head. “Am more of a relationship type of guy, I guess,” he says. “One night stands make me feel… used, I guess.” He shuts his mouth when he realises he’s just been emotionally vulnerable with Seokjin of all people. Ew.
Seokjin is quiet for a second. “So you skip the one night stand and head straight into marriage with a stranger. Great solution, Jungkook.”
“It’s only for a few weeks,” Jungkook says, feeling defensive all of a sudden. “Surely you can manage to put up with me for that long.”
The sheets rustle and Seokjin grunts as he turns on his side and gets comfortable, facing away from Jungkook. “I guess I’ll have to. I need it.”
Jungkook wants to ask why, but doesn’t. His cheeks feel hot with shame. How stupid of himself to betray something so personal to Seokjin. Who knows how he might use it. And Jungkook really doesn’t like the one night stands. He’s been offered plenty of opportunities to try them out, but it’s always a girl running her finger down his tattooed arm as he’s inking an inspirational quote onto her ribcage, and it always feels like they want what they think he has.
It always already starts with disappointment when he doesn’t take them home on the back of a Harley Davidson he inherited from his orphan-saving great-grandfather. They’re disillusioned enough by the bus ride, and things get worse when they see his little flat. Clean and decently-sized by all accounts, but sadly, no jacuzzi-filled penthouse. And no dirty talk that borders on verbal abuse, either. No swigs of whiskey in between thrusts.
So much for one night stands. One night stands, Jungkook thinks, are filled with expectations that are sure to remain unfulfilled. Better to get to know someone first. It feels better when he knows someone likes him for him, too.
Too bad Seokjin thinks Jungkook is not his type.
Seokjin’s breathing evens out in record time. Jungkook listens to him fall asleep and then turns onto his other side, facing away from Seokjin: the cameras will love it, he can imagine what their position must look like to the viewers.
As he closes his eyes and tries to fall asleep, Jungkook admits to himself for the first time that day, that disappointment is what he feels right now. It would’ve been stupid of him to expect to meet the love of his life on a show like Surprise Spouse, but God, wouldn’t it have been nice?
Wouldn’t it have been nice.
—
The morning dawns with a full view of his husband’s broad chest. Jungkook appreciates Seokjin’s attempts at keeping quiet, but he’s been a light sleeper since childhood, and the sound of the waterfall shower running eased him from slumber as easily as his EIGHT HOUR RAINY SOUNDS FOR SLEEP AND RELAXATION AND AMBIENCE (NO THUNDER) podcast usually eases him into it.
And so, when he at last opens his eyes, he’s met with Seokjin standing in the middle of the bedroom, a towel slung around his waist. He immediately closes his eyes, shocked. He shouldn’t be privy to such a private moment, should he? Especially since Seokjin is a stranger. Then again, aside from being a stranger, Seokjin is also his husband, isn’t he? So he half-opens his eyes, pretending to be still asleep, and watches Seokjin move around the room.
His shoulders are so insanely wide, Jungkook marvels. For some reason, he doesn’t think Seokjin’s the kind of person to spend hour upon hour lifting weights at the gym, so this must be genetics. Junkook shakes his head. Life can be unfair, can’t it? His chest glistens with droplets of water (no, Jungkook, do NOT think about licki–) and where his shoulders and chest are broad, his body tapers into a teeny tiny waist and a soft tummy (do NOT think about burying your head in his tu–).
He’s unfairly gorgeous, but then again, Jungkook supposes, most assholes probably are. The bad boy trying to corrupt the innocent heroine in dramas is always way hotter than the male lead, right? Jungkook doesn’t necessarily see himself as the innocent heroine, though, and seriously wonders where his male lead is, if Seokjin is the bad guy.
Seokjin’s hands fall to his waist, long fingers prying at the knot he made in the towel, and Jungkook chokes on his own saliva. Seokjin’s eyes fly towards him, widening in shock. He immediately stops toying with the towel, holding his hands up to his chest to cover his pecs (which look immaculately squeezable, Jungkook imagines, tragically.)
“You’re awake.”
Jungkook’s eyes are still on the towel around Seokjin’s waist, so he sees it go wrong in slow-motion, his lips parting as the towel starts slipping. “Seokjin–”
“Good, I think the crew is coming up in like fifteen minutes, so you might want to shower too and–”
Jungkook blinks. The knot at Seokjin’s waist is loosening. “Seokjin,” he tries again.
“–make yourself look presentable because I think we have a full–”
“Hyung, for the love of God,” Jungkook shouts, kicking off the duvet and scrambling forward, hands outstretched. It’s too late, though. Gravity perseveres at last, and the towel gives way, slipping almost comically slowly down Seokjin’s legs and falling to the floor.
“Oh, God,” Seokjin whispers, looking down.
Jungkook has been stunned into silence, his face mere inches from Seokjin’s soft dick. It’s– no, Jungkook, don’t even LOOK at it. Don’t look at how lengthy and girthy it is, even soft like this, and don’t you even DARE to think about the fact that Seokjin WAXES, how his skin is silky smooth and– Oh, God, indeed.
“Well, get off,” Seokjin whines.
Jungkook finally manages to look up and from this position, it’s nothing if not erotic, he realises in terror. From Seokjin’s point of view, it must look as though Jungkook is about to give him the blowjob of his life, staring up at him, doe-eyed through his long lashes, before getting to it.
He licks his lips involuntarily.
Seokjin seems to realise the same thing, because his face grows even redder and he squeezes his legs together. “Please, Jungkook. Oh my God.” He takes a step back and turns around and that’s even worse because Seokjin’s ass is round and firm and Jungkook wants to cry from the unfairness of it all.
He scrambles up off the bed and reaches down for the towel. He thrusts it into Seokjin’s arms and makes a beeline for the bathroom, desperately hoping Seokjin won’t see he’s sporting a semi.
When Jungkook re-emerges from the bathroom (having successfully willed down his unfortunate boner), Seokjin is fully dressed in tight-fitting jeans and a neatly ironed white button down that might as well be the same shirt he wore to the wedding. Lest he repeat Seokjin’s mistake, Jungkook has taken the precaution to put on his own jeans in the bathroom, but by way of retaliation, he steps into the bedroom shirtless, hoodie slung over his arm.
Seokjin’s eyes flit over his upper body, widening slightly as they roam over his tattoos, an intricate garden of flowers, Jungkook’s pride and joy. He’d designed them himself. He would’ve tattooed them onto his own arm, too, but Taehyung had made him promise not to, and on the whole Jungkook considers Taehyung to be a tad more sensible than he is himself, so he’s kept his promise.
But then there it is again, that look of disgust, flashing like lightning through Seokjin’s expression. It’s gone just as fast, masked with carefully curated neutrality. He blinks lazily and looks away. “They just knocked, they’ve arrived,” he says.
Jungkook hums noncommittally and tugs his hoodie over his head. Might as well now.
Seokjin spares him a final glance before swinging open the door to reveal Hoseok and Jimin, the former looking impatient and the latter looking like he’d rather still be in bed (with one of Seokjin’s friends, preferably, Jungkook mentally adds.)
“Are you excited for the honeymoon?” Hoseok asks as the hair and make-up crew starts crowding Seokjin and Jungkook. Jungkook lets himself be man-handled into a chair by a girl half his size brandishing a curling iron and says, “Any clues on where we’re going yet?”
“I hope it’s close to home,” Seokjin says.
Jungkook rolls his eyes. “But isn't that boring? I hope we go someplace far. Like, Rome or something. I’ve always wanted to go to Italy. Or America!”
Seokjin tuts and says, “It’s a four day long honeymoon, Jungkook. It’s not gonna be good television if we’re sleeping off our jet lag the entire time.”
Scribbling something onto his clipboard, Jimin says cheerfully, “Well, I think it’ll be great television so long as you keep fighting like that.”
“We don’t have to fly across the globe for that,” Jungkook scoffs.
Hoseok smiles, nodding his head in satisfaction. “This is giving great energy, guys. I can already smell compilation edits of you two going viral on TikTok. Ooh, Jimin! Jot that down, will you? Maybe we can work on some pre-made stuff we can drop as soon as the episodes come out.”
(Jungkook can hear Seokjin ask the stylist, “What’s a TokTik?”)
Obligingly, Jimin clicks his pen and scribbles down, MAKE TIKTOK EDITS JINKOOK BICKERING.
“Jinkook?” Jungkook wrinkles his nose.
“Oh,” Jimin says easily. “That’s our premade ship name for you. Just in case you do go viral, which I’m pretty sure you two will.” He glances in Hoseok’s direction with a grin, and Hoseok shoots him finger guns back. “This season’s gonna be great.”
Jungkook turns to Seokjin, whose hair is being yanked at by one of the stylists. “We have a ship name.”
Seokjin blinks. “What’s a ship name?”
Jungkook whines and grabs Jimin’s arm. “Why did you match me with a boomer? Why, Jimin? He doesn’t know anything about the modern world. Can’t I just marry you instead? Oh, no. Yoongi would probably be jealous,” he adds in an afterthought, though no less whiny.
Seokjin’s shoulders straighten at the mention of his friend. “What about Yoongi?”
“They’re into each other.” He points at Jimin. “I saw it happen at the wedding dinner, you know? I don’t suppose you noticed, what with being preoccupied with the stick up your ass, after all.”
(Hoseok to Jimin: “We’re gonna need to bring the good cameras in even during hair and make-up. This is insanity.”
Jimin to Hoseok: “If this isn’t gonna go viral, hyung, then I don’t know what is.”)
“I do not have a stick up my ass, for the final time,” Seokjin hisses.
It would be rather cosmically unfair, Jungkook agrees, if Seokjin were to prefer bottoming, considering his sizeable cock. Then again, he has a sizable ass, too. A great ass. And a great cock. Oh, hell. Everything is cosmically unfair at this point, Jungkook thinks, sighing internally. Not that he’d want to fuck Seokjin in any way, shape or form.
He waves a hand through the air. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, hyung.”
(Jimin, smiling brightly, eyebrows raised: “Oh, he’s progressed to hyung now! I can’t wait to review the material shot during the night to see what made him change to hyung.”)
🍓 🌟 💍 🌟 🍓
EPISODE 1 SCENE FIVE - wedding dinner video diary seokjin.mov TRANSCRIPT
SEOKJIN
My first impression…The first thing I noticed were his tattoos. And his long hair.
INTERVIEWER
And what did you think of that? Did you like him? Could you fall for him?
SEOKJIN
SEOKJIN is silent for a long time, thinking
SEOKJIN
I'm sure there are some people who like that sort of style. But as for me, no... He's not the type of boy I'd fall for.
SEOKJIN chuckles
SEOKJIN
He's not the type of boy I'd fall for at all.
SEOKJIN pauses again, looking conflicted.
INTERVIEWER
But...?
SEOKJIN
But... I... I...guess he's distractingly beautiful, though. Annoyingly beautiful.