Um. For the writing prompts, how about Han Yoojin and Sung Hyunjae slow dancing? They’ve already danced once, so why not again :)
Yoojin’s not hiding, really. It wouldn’t do for the first prince of Haeyeon to be hiding at the birthday banquet of the crown prince of Seseong, so Yoojin isn’t hiding.
Naturally.
There just happened to be a lot of people in the banquet hall, and all of them wanted to talk to Yoojin when they really should be talking to Yoohyun, and none of them took the hint when Yoojin tried directing them away… So obviously, the solution was to hid—beat a strategic retreat to the gardens. Obviously.
There’s a conveniently large hibiscus bush further down the path—not so far that Yoojin could be accused of running away from his princely duties, but far enough that he won’t be spotted by anyone giving a cursory glance out the windows of the banquet hall. The flowers in the gardens really are meticulously kept, Yoojin notes, and blooming magnificently even in the cooling autumn air.
“Prince Yoojin,” a voice comes from behind him. Yoojin lets out an embarrassing yelp and even more embarrassingly tries to hide behind the hibiscus bush, even though he’s obviously been spotted. “Oh? I came out here to ask Prince Yoojin for a dance, but it seems he wants to play hide and seek instead?”
Yoojin wants to go back five minutes and tell his past self to completely abandon his idea of hi—retreating to the gardens. “Prince Hyunjae,” he says, dusting off his clothes with stiff movements. Of all the people that could’ve found him, why him? “Your flowers are beautiful.”
The crown prince of Seseong’s eyes twinkle in the moonlight, which is not information Yoojin ever needed to know, nor ever wanted. “Thank you. I grew them myself.”
“You did not.”
“I could have.”
“But you did not.”
“I sailed to the port of Anyeong and bargained with one of the most renowned hibiscus botanists to have these bushes planted in my garden.” Hyunjae punctuates the lie with an angelic smile.
Yoojin refrains from rolling his eyes, in the same way that he is not hiding in the gardens. “Surely the crown prince of Seseong has better things to be doing than personally buying flower bushes.”
Hyunjae’s smile ticks up a notch. “Well, it was worth it in the end if Prince Yoojin was able to appreciate them.”
It’s all a lie, clearly, so there’s no reason for the heat in Yoojin’s cheeks. “Why is the crown prince out in the gardens during his own birthday banquet?” He changes the topic for the sake of his blood pressure. “Surely it’s much more important for you to stay inside?” Even if Yoojin plans on leaving the political efforts to Yoohyun, he knows that deals and alliances are made at these types of gatherings.
“Like I said, I came out here to ask for a dance.”
Yoojin eyes Hyunjae suspiciously. Obviously, it’d be better for the other prince to dance with a princess or a lady, or—or even Yoohyun before trying to spend time with Yoojin. “If you’re looking to strike a deal with Haeyeon, I’m not the person to talk to anymore.”
“And if the deal is for a dance?” Hyunjae takes a step forward. Yoojin inches back. “Yes, like that.”
Yoojin’s not sure if he wants to spend the effort to try and untangle whatever plan the prince of Seseong must have devised. There’s no amount of mental knots that lead to a dance with Yoojin. “It would be better for you to find someone else to dance with, wouldn’t it,” he says as he tries to round the other side of the hibiscus bush. Unfortunately, right as he tries a step to the side, Hyunjae reaches out and pulls him into the open. “Prince Hyunjae.”
“Prince Yoojin.” He still hasn’t let go of Yoojin’s hand. “Dance with me?”
The crown prince of Seseong is much taller than Yoojin, which is not something Yoojin would’ve cared to notice unless he were standing next to him like he is now. “There isn’t any music,” he tries.
Hyunjae cocks his head to the side. “You can hear the court musicians from here.” This is true—Yoojin doesn’t even need to strain to hear the notes of the slow song currently being played.
“I don’t know how to dance.” Yoojin has suffered through too many dance lessons as a child to not know how to dance. The raised eyebrow he gets for that protest tells him Hyunjae knows this as well. “We can’t both dance the male part.”
Hyunjae tugs him closer—the kind of close where Yoojin is suddenly aware of the space that Hyunjae takes up, and also the space that his own body takes up in relation to Hyunjae’s—and after a moment of consideration, he guides Yoojin’s other hand to his waist and sets his own on Yoojin’s shoulder. “There,” he says, eyes curved into infuriating crescents. “How’s that?”
“Bad,” Yoojin deadpans over the sound of his heartbeat in his ears.
Hyunjae hums and adjusts their hand hold so that it’s more of a clasp than a grip, steps closer to Yoojin, and oh. A part of Yoojin, raised by court scholars and strict teachers, is aware that this is a more proper dancing form. The other part is too busy thinking about how Hyunjae’s hand is quite warm.
If he tips forward just a few degrees, his head will be resting on Hyunjae’s shoulder. The same part of him thinking about Hyunjae’s palm against his also wonders if that’ll be equally as warm.
“Has Prince Yoojin danced with anyone else at the banquet yet?” Hyunjae asks idly, taking a step back and pulling Yoojin along with him. Yoojin is fairly certain he’s the one who’s supposed to be leading, but Hyunjae’s movements are firm and confident, so he lets himself be swept along.
“No.” There's a certain amount of dedication and attention needed to dance with strangers, and while there are guests at the banquet who are more than happy to blindly stumble their way through conversation and a dance, Yoojin would rather not. “Have you?”
Before Hyunjae replies, he directs Yoojin in a more complicated series of steps in time with a trill in the music, before returning to the more basic, rhythmic swaying they were doing before. Yoojin wants to point out that they’re moving too slowly for the music and their steps are too simplistic, but every time he thinks about mentioning it, he’s distracted by how close their shoulders are to touching. “Prince Yoojin is the only one for me, of course.”
Craning his head up to look at Hyunjae is a bit inconvenient from this position, but Yoojin hopes that his disbelief is conveyed loud and clear regardless. “What’s that supposed to—”
“Spin.”
Yoojin spins under Hyunjae’s outstretched arm without particularly meaning to, and he finishes tucked loosely into Hyunjae’s embrace. Any chill from the night air has been driven away long ago by Yoojin’s flush and the feeling of Hyunjae’s arm against his back. “I think this was supposed to happen the other way around,” is the only thing he can think to say, voice barely louder than a whisper. Though he doubts that he’d be able to lead Hyunjae in a spin, even if he tried.
Hyunjae smiles. “Was it?” When he unfurls Yoojin from his hold and returns them to their previous positions, he preemptively claims Yoojin’s waist, hand gentle but no less present for it. “I believe this happened exactly as intended.”
Yoojin spends a moment contemplating the indignity of having to stretch to reach Hyunjae’s shoulder, before consigning himself to defeat and settling an uncertain hand on his arm instead. They’re still so close. “Prince Hyunjae is too tall,” he says, because it seems like the safest topic compared to everything else that’s been brought up so far. “How will you ever dance with anyone else?”
A tightening of the grip Hyunjae has on his waist is his only warning before the music picks up and Yoojin has to fall back on muscle memory, moving together in a circle between the hibiscuses until the music settles down again. Yoojin nearly trips over an uneven patch of land, but Hyunjae catches his weight neatly and hardly misses a beat. “I’m doing so well dancing with Prince Yoojin that I don’t need to think about anyone else,” he answers. Yoojin thinks that he should perhaps save those lines for his future wife.
He falls quiet after that, not brave enough to try another line of conversation, but even silence isn’t safe with the crown prince of Seseong. Silence means that Yoojin’s attention is drawn to every point of contact between them—only three, but there’s potential for more, and Yoojin’s attention is drawn there too. Silence means that Yoojin can focus on whatever heady scent is lingering on Hyunjae’s clothes, noticeable even over the smell of the flowers around them. Silence means that Yoojin can hear footsteps crunching towards them, fast.
He disentangles himself from Hyunjae just in time for Yoohyun to round a corner of the path and spot them next to the flower bushes. “Hyung!” he calls, inexplicably glaring at Hyunjae. “I noticed you were missing.”
They couldn’t have been gone for more than a few minutes. “Oh, Prince Hyunjae was just… graciously showing me the flowers,” he says, trying not to feel like a scolded child. “They’re quite beautiful.”
Yoohyun doesn’t let up on his glare. “Is that all?”
“That’s all, Yoohyun, stop worrying.” Yoojin steps forward and pushes Yoohyun back in the direction of the banquet hall. When he turns back to bid goodbye to Hyunjae, his words die in his throat as Hyunjae reaches forward and tucks a freshly-plucked hibiscus flower behind his ear.
“Since you liked them so much,” Hyunjae explains, eyes crinkling with an amount of mirth that belies just how much he’s enjoying Yoohyun’s exponentially increasing anger.
“Sung Hy—”
“Come on, Yoohyun,” Yoojin interrupts, forcefully shoving Yoohyun down the path back to the building and vehemently avoiding everyone’s gaze. “I’m thirsty. Let’s find something to drink.”
Later, he pulls the flower out of his hair and tucks it into a fold of his clothes instead, the pale petals stark against dark fabric. It visibly annoys Yoohyun whenever he happens to look at it, but Yoojin can’t bring himself to throw the blossom away. It’s a visual reminder of gentle touches under the moonlight whenever he glances down, and, perhaps, a silent suggestion that there could be more.
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