Yoo Joonghyuk vs. Online Shopping
In which Han Sooyoung and Yoo Joonghyuk disagree on what Yoo Joonghyuk’s post-scenarios wardrobe should look like.
786 words; read on AO3!
“And now that you don’t have to worry about blood showing through, we can get you some other wavelengths of light in your closet, too,” Han Sooyoung says breezily. Yoo Joonghyuk, who had been tuning her out for a good ten minutes, finally feels some faint alarm bell go off in his head at those words, and he pauses his game to turn to look at what she’s brandishing a finger at: her computer screen, filled with rows and rows of images of… trendy modern clothing.
“What,” he says.
“Colors, Yoo Joonghyuk, colors,” Han Sooyoung says, rolling her eyes. “I’m saying you can branch out with, like, a blue shirt or two. Maybe green if we’re feeling adventurous.”
“Why would I do that.”
Han Sooyoung’s mouth slants at his flat tone. “Well, you’ve always kind of stuck to permutations of your outfit from scenario one, and the black coat... I mean, it’s hot, yeah, but is it even practical anymore? Let me tell you right now: we’ve all noticed it isn’t sweat-resistant anymore.” Kim Dokja, sitting away from the other two at the dining room table, makes an indeterminate sound—possibly a smothered protest, possibly a chuckle. “You can’t only ever alternate between that and lame tracksuits and identical goddamned black sweaters, is what I’m saying. You suck all the light out of the room just by standing in it.”
“Yah, Sooyoung-ah, give his face some credit, too,” Kim Dokja calls. Yoo Joonghyuk glares at him, and Kim Dokja beams—first at Yoo Joonghyuk, then at Han Sooyoung. “See! He’s doing the face right now!”
Han Sooyoung sighs gustily. “Either help me get this idiot a new wardrobe or just shut up, Kim Dokja,” she calls back, unnecessarily loud for the scant distance between them, before following it up with a disparaging mutter about Kim Dokja’s tastes that Yoo Joonghyuk doubts he was meant to hear. Or—no, actually, Han Sooyoung absolutely intended for him to catch the derisive comment on his chuunibyou tendencies.
Han Sooyoung turns away and points demonstratively at the screen. Yoo Joonghyuk stares wordlessly at it, then at her. She sighs again, with less affectation this time. “Listen. It won’t kill you to expand your wardrobe, is all I’m saying. Actually do some justice to that physique, why don’t you?”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips tighten. “I like my coat.”
Han Sooyoung looks up to squint at him quizzically. “I know??”
“And I like black,” Yoo Joonghyuk says, still toneless.
Han Sooyoung scoffs. “We’ll get you a new coat if it matters that much, dumbass. But you—”
“And,” Yoo Joonghyuk glowers, “I am going to continue wearing both.”
Han Sooyoung visibly restrains herself from putting her face in her hands. “I’m not saying you can’t keep the fucking coat, okay. I’m just saying—begging—for you to wear something other than identical black turtlenecks. Fine, I won’t put you in a crop top, but we’re going to get you in something brighter than navy blue if it’s the last thing I do, you hear?”
“No.”
There's a long silence, broken only by Kim Dokja cheering under his breath at whatever mobile game or webnovel it is that he’s been entertaining himself with.
“No to…?” Han Sooyoung prompts, voice hovering at a precarious edge between incredulity and unbound fury. “Answer me, moron. No to what? To buying a single piece of clothing that doesn’t look like it came from that shitty dragon’s shitty merch line? Is that what you mean?”
Yoo Joonghyuk is silent.
“... Stop bullshitting me, Yoo Joonghyuk.”
“...”
“No, are you serious?”
“...”
“You know what? Fuck you. What the fuck do I even try for,” Han Sooyoung says spitefully. She navigates away from the page she’d been on with great vindictiveness, muttering with bloody intent. “Goddamn protagonists and their one-note wardrobes, who do you think you are, you clow—” She jabs a key so hard it’s difficult to believe in its continuing functionality. “I’m getting you cargo shorts.”
Yoo Joonghyuk nods and settles back against the couch, clicking resume with his controller. “That’s fine.”
“What the fuck?!” Han Sooyoung cries over the renewed sounds of Mario Kart pinging through the room.
“It’s the pockets,” Kim Dokja calls without looking up from his phone.
“It’s also Yoo Joonghyuk!” Han Sooyoung shrieks, flailing her arms at him.
“You don’t have to get the cargo shorts,” says the man in question.
“Fuck you, obviously I have to get the shorts now!” Han Sooyoung shrills. Yoo Joonghyuk sighs. Kim Dokja, apparently less absorbed in his screen than it would seem, snickers.
“Just for that, Kim Dokja,” Han Sooyoung promises darkly. “I’m buying you shorts too.” He looks up, protest hanging off his lips, and she growls. “Khakhi ones.”
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I sometimes wonder if Two-Face ever drops his coins when flipping it, sure he isn’t infallible especially with a effed up left side face. I bet when it does the batfamily helps him and treats him with patience after all that’s their father’s former bestfriend
Two-Face: Nightwing, your fate shall be decided by my coi— ah shit I dropped it.
Red Hood: for fucks sake, get on with it already!
Tied up Nightwing: …
Robin: it rolled over there *points at the couch*
Two-Face: *bending down and struggling to reach underneath the couch*
Red Robin: here let me help you harvey
Robin: here I found it *gives a cent*
Two-Face: No! That’s just a regular cent mine was customized I had to pay hundreds of dollars for it to have skulls and—
Red Robin: wait is it one of those coins from youtube that has like cool art that has secrets you can do like press small buttons and open up a compartment?
Spoiler: that’s awesome, does yours do that? then I’ll help look for it
Two-Face: No—
Red Hood: you got scammed dude
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