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Namjoon crashes onto the keyboard head first and groans loudly, “we’ve been here for four hours, are you done yet?”
“Mmmh mhghhh mmm” Donghyuk replies through a mouthful of crisps.
“What?”
“I said: about another hour.”
“But I’m hungry!”
Donghyuk offers him the tube of Pringles, “so eat!”
“I’m on a diet, idiot. I can’t eat those. I need like, fresh fruit and shit.”
“Well if you need shit I’d be happy to help you out.”
“Haha very funny dickwad.”
Shrugging, Donghyuk turns his attention back to the monitor, "your loss."
Donghyuk’s eyes refocus on the computer screen and his fingers get back to work on the wide array of keyboards and buttons that litter the studio. Namjoon knows how most of them work, in theory at least, but he never really got beyond the basics; meanwhile Donghyuk had fallen into the producer’s chair like someone had been keeping it warm for him. On the one hand it sort of makes Namjoon want to punch him for being a talented fuckball but on the other hand it’s nice it’s good to have an excuse to keep him around.
A bizarre plonking is easily audible through the gargantuan headphones hanging round Donghyuk's neck. “Aaaaaaah that’s not good,” he mutters, grinning like Christmas come early. Namjoon’s mouth purses into a thin line,
“What’s not good?”
“Yoongi hyeong messed about with the levels for track six, it’s gonna take me a little while to readjust them,”
Donghyuk clamps one half of his headphones to his ear and starts fiddling with gauges on the instruments surrounding him like a mad professor in a dynamite factory. Namjoon hates it when he gets like this.
Well, he loves it, but he also sort of hates it. Donghyuk is hyper in a manner entirely unlike Hoseok; something more akin to Jiho’s constant need for musical stimulation. None of them were all that surprised when he eventually got cut from the team after skipping one too many dance practices in his attempt to spend as much time with Big Hit’s superior software as possible, but they also weren’t particularly surprised when the company wound up begging him on bended knee to come back and help produce for them.
Donghyuk sings along with Jimin’s high notes loudly and obnoxiously; Namjoon glowers back at him, “I like you better when you shut the fuck up.”
“Oh reeeaaaaallllly Namjoon?” there’s something evil stealing into the corners of Donghyuk’s smug grin that makes Namjoon rather hope the studio mic is switched off, “we how about I shut up and you start talking then Joonnie, we could continue that conversation we were having last night when my dick was three feet up your arse?”
Donghyuk punctuates himself with a series of high pitched, girlish moans that illicit nothing more than deadpan silence out of Namjoon.
“I don’t sound like that,” he retorts when the peals of laughter that Donghyuk insists on accompanying all his funniest jokes with calm down. Donghyuk shrungs,
“Sure you do, you’re just so busy focusing on what a great lay I am to listen to yourself.”
“Well at least I don’t sound like a rutting tortoise when I come.”
“Well at least I don’t make booty calls at three o’clock on a Thursday afternoon, or accidentally send my dick picks to Hyosang, or whine like a little bitch when I get the ‘wrong kind’ of lube, or have a hissy fit when one of us would rather be listening to Nas than Kanye, or-“
“Donghyuk,” Namjoon leans forward and pins his errant fuck buddy’s shoulders to the chair, “shut up.”
And Donghyuk would reply with something vulgar and embarrassing, but Namjoon’s already kissing him too hard for words to follow.