#googun

✦ summary: left out of commission, charles orders gun to take the day off.

✦ details: fluff -> angst, no reader, takes place during fourth affiliate, references to a drink between brothers.

✦ wc: 1.3k

✦ a/n: looove writing fics between characters. FAWK X READER!

daniel park broke gun's arm.

it surprises him, to say the least. daniel park possesses ultra instinct. who knew?

the broken arm isn't an issue for him. gun would've gone about his duties regardless if not for the old man.

"one day off, gun" charles had said. "that's not a suggestion"

since when did he suddenly care? is this what they call…male menopause?

it's not that gun can't take days off, but this is essentially a sick day. and gun park…sick? a broken arm and slightly bruised pride.

and so, here he is: standing in the middle of the grocery store, staring blankly at the vegetable aisle.

he reaches for some zucchini when he sees an old woman drop her shopping basket. a cascade of items rolls across the floor. she bends down, her frail hands shaking as she struggles to gather everything.

gun turns back to the vegetable aisle. not his problem, after all.

he glances to her again. she hasn’t managed to pick up much. each time she reaches for something, her hands falter, or she has to pause to steady herself. it's painfully slow.

he exhales deeply. without a word, gun crouches down, his dark shades somehow making the action look calculated. with his unbroken arm, he gathers the groceries efficiently, placing them neatly in her basket.

"oh thank you, young man!" the old woman smiles. she pats his cheek, her voice warm. "you’re so thoughtful. it’s hard to find gentlemen like you these days!"

gun pauses, his shades hiding whatever expression he's wearing. he stands up, dusting off his sleeves.

"you should be more careful" he says flatly, his tone making it impossible to tell whether it's advice or criticism. gun goes to pay for his items before she can say anything else.

as he exits the store, he feels an inexplicable lightness settle over him. before he can dwell on this further, gun spots it.

a head of blonde hair and a bright suit, leaning against the nearby pole.

"well, well, well" goo drawls. "look who's enjoying civilian life!"

gun raises an eyebrow. "joongoo? what are you doing here? how did you find me?"

goo grins, inspecting his nails. "wouldn’t you like to know? maybe i bribed a fortune teller who pointed me in the right direction. or maybe..." he leans in conspiratorially. "...i'm secretly a mind reader"

gun stares at him, unimpressed.

"alright, alright, fine. if you must know..." goo dramatically looks into the horizon. "i scaled three rooftops, dodged a sniper, and interrogated five different people before uncovering your precise location. it was a perilous journey, fraught with danger, but my skills—"

he gets cut off. "i'll ask again, how did you actually find me?"

goo scoffs. "tch. way to ruin the fun" he turns to look at gun again, shoving his hands into his pockets. "boss man’s giving me a bonus to keep an eye on you"

gun is slightly offended. "charles paid you for this?"

"yep. said something about ‘making sure he rests’ and ‘stop him from doing something stupid’ " goo waves his hand dismissively. "blah, blah, blah. i stopped listening halfway through!"

gun exhales sharply. "waste of resources"

"i know right?! not that i'm complaining"

"...leave"

goo smirks. "nah"

gun’s eyes narrow. "i wasn’t asking"

"and i wasn’t complying!" goo quips. "you’re stuck with me whether you like it or not"

gun clenches his jaw. "you’re wasting both our times"

"i'm wasting time?" goo scoffs, folding his arms. "who’s the one loitering around like some tragic anti hero? should i cue the rain?"

he pinches his nose bridge. "goo..."

"gun" the blonde mimics.

"...goo. i'd rather spend my day listening to diego's music than with you"

goo’s smile freezes, his eye twitching.

"you did not just say that"

gun nods solemnly.

his smile transforms into a scowl, turning to walk away. "ugh, screw the bonus and screw that old geezer. i'm not your babysitter"

gun sighs in relief. close one.

but goo's eyes flick to the plastic bag in gun’s hand. "...hey, is that a zucchini?"

gun glances down at the bag. "yes. i was going to make stir-fried zucchini with—"

"oh hell no" goo snatches the bag from him, inspecting the contents. "with these ingredients?"

gun is slightly offended again. "you know i can cook, goo"

"you only know how to make japanese food, sushi man! i've seen the way you cut onions...you disgust me" goo shakes his head in defiance, marching back to the store. "you’re coming with me. we’re buying real ingredients"

gun blinks in disbelief, but slowly follows. winning an argument with goo twice is a loosing battle.

inside the store, goo strolls through the aisles like a man on a mission. he tosses high-quality ingredients into the basket without consultation — fresh herbs, imported spices, artisanal sauces — and dramatically tuts every time he glances at gun’s original choices.

near the alcohol section, his eyes light up. "oh, look at that!" goo says, grabbing a bottle of sake and holding it up to the light. "premium stuff. might as well grab this too, right?"

gun raises an eyebrow. "we don’t need sake for a stir-fry"

goo waves him off, placing it into the basket anyway.

he doesn't bother to argue. again, it's a loosing battle.

gun takes his shades off as him and goo stand in the former's kitchen.

"food is art, gun" goo says, wagging a wooden spoon at him. "and you were about to commit a crime against cuisine"

gun grabs a knife. "i’m slicing the zucchini"

goo snatches it away. "absolutely not. you’ll ruin it. watch and learn"

gun watches intently as goo demonstrates his — admittedly beautiful — slicing technique. "see? thin, uniform, perfect. i bet your sad little slices would’ve been uneven"

gun rolls his eyes but stays silent.

as the dish comes together, goo takes over almost every task.

"no, no, no! you’re flipping it too soon—"

"stop! you’re going to over season that—"

"jesus, do you even taste your food when you cook?”

gun somehow didn't snap his neck.

eventually, the food is plated, and they sit at the table, staring at the zucchini dish. the scent of their perfectly cooked recipe fills the air.

goo watches smugly as gun takes a bite. "admit it. that’s the best zucchini stir fry you’ve ever had"

he chews slowly, knowing it's pointless to lie. "...it's pretty good"

goo sighs, pleased with himself. "well of course it is! i helped make it after all"

gun doesn't respond, instead opting to just take another piece.

goo rummages through one of the plastic bags from earlier and pulls out the bottle of sake. "ta da!" he beams. "we've never shared a drink, right? thought we’d toast to our masterpiece"

gun shakes his head. "i don't really like alcohol"

he pouts. "oh c'mon! i even picked sake because you’re japanese. it’s cultural appreciation! you have to drink it...for your ancestors or something"

gun gives him a deadpan look. "no"

clicking his tongue, goo pours himself a shot anyway. "tch. suit yourself"

he eyes the glass and pauses, staring at the clear liquid for longer than usual. "...maybe you'll change your mind next time?" goo murmurs.

gun glances at goo, his expression unreadable. still, something flickers behind his eyes.

"...next time"

goo raises his shot glass, a small smile on his lips. "yeah. next time"

he takes the shot, the liquid going down smooth and warm.

"anyway!" the blonde claps his hands together, his usual manic energy returning like it never left. "personally, i'd give this dish a solid nine out of ten, but that’s only because i helped. without me? ...three at best"

there's a slight upward tug at the corners of gun's mouth — so brief it’s almost imperceptible. "...you’re delusional"

they go back to eating, the meal continuing as normal. but the words dance and float around them.

next time.

a/n: I don't particularly enjoy drinking alcohol, but I did because it's you. :') ingrained in me.

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