namgi, a kiss because time has run out
Yoongi watches through the oven door, almost vibrating with his contained, internal excitement, and Namjoon watches him, letting the excitement rattle through him, too.
Even if this works, it's hard to imagine how they'll sell chocolate souffles out of this storefront. It's appointment baking—people would have to call an hour in advance to show up on time and eat immediately—and you don't get customers like that unless you're, well, a whole lot more famous than Sugar Genius, anyway.
But honestly, they don't sell much out of this storefront anyway, and at least the souffle has Yoongi more focused and excited than he's been in days.
The timer goes off.
Yoongi takes the souffle out carefully. It looks good, rising asymmetrically out of the dish like a sand dune, smooth and evenly dark.
"You try it." Yoongi hands Namjoon a spoon, clutching the other in his fist like a weapon. "I'm too nervous."
Namjoon is surprised, but he's practicing not arguing with Yoongi unless it's important, and anyway he really wants to try it.
The souffle gives like air under his spoon, light and smooth as cream, but the taste is rich and full in his mouth. His eyes roll back in his head. "Hyung, you have to try—" he starts, but Yoongi's already digging in.
For once, they don't talk about money or time or stress. It doesn't matter whether they can sell the next one—they have nothing more important to do than eat this one before it deflates. Yoongi's eyes are sparkling.
As they put their spoons down, Namjoon gets overtaken by an ill-advised rush of physical affection, and he snatches Yoongi into a hug.
Hugging is not supposed to be complicated but Namjoon always fits his together wrong and regrets them halfway through. Yoongi is strange to hold—there's always more of him than Namjoon expects, but somehow he feels terribly, achingly small enough to crush. Namjoon has his neck at a wrong angle, his face jammed into the side of Yoongi's head.
And when he pulls away, Yoongi is blinking up at him, stunned into stillness. On his cheek, there's a smear of chocolate shaped just like Namjoon's clumsy mouth, and underneath it, his skin is turning pink.
"Well, I can clean this up," Namjoon says, flaming too, and lets Yoongi go out to stand at the counter in the empty patisserie looking like he's just been kissed.