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It’s been a long, hard day, Hoseok thinks, as his head lolls sleepily on his shoulders, his body sinking deeper and deeper into the lavender-scented bubble-bath.
He sighs. A long, hard day.
Today, one of his fourth graders had managed to, unbeknownst to anyone else, fully detach one of the black keys from the piano that sits in the back of his classroom, and replace it with a piece of black licorice. Hoseok hadn’t found out about it until last period, when he saw a rat the size of a toddler (fucking New York, he thinks bitterly) on top of the keyboard, gnawing on it. Mocking him.
He prides himself on being a fun, friendly, mellow guy. For the two years that he’s been teaching fourth grade, he’s worked very hard to craft this image, and it’s worked in his favor. He’s one of the most beloved teachers at his school, because all the kids think he’s simply the coolest guy.
The problem is that Hoseok is not the coolest guy. He's not even a remotely cool guy, and he is painfully aware of it.
A cool guy might have strangled the licorice rat with his bare hands, winning the respect of his astonished and awed students, gaining notoriety and prestige throughout the school, maybe even the city. They would put his framed picture in the trophy case near the gym. His legacy would live in the hearts of elementary school students for decades to come.
Well, his legacy probably will live on for a while, but not in the way he wanted.
Truthfully, when he had seen the giant rat snacking on what he thought was one of his piano keys, he had screamed, real loud. The scream had, naturally, startled the rat, causing him to scuttle away, still clutching the licorice in his tiny paws. And Hoseok simply couldn’t just continue teaching when he knew there was a 40-pound possible mutant hiding in the sea of tiny, innocent eight-year-olds.
So he screamed, again (more like a series of screams: “woh woh woh woh!”) and climbed up on his desk. He felt, at the time, it was the only option.
One of his students -- a truly brave warrior named Zoe -- eventually called the principal, who eventually called the janitor, who eventually picked up the rat with his bare hands and took him away, smiling.
His students had thought it was incredibly funny, and sure, he had been able to laugh about it afterwards, and he got back to teaching them fractions soon enough, but as he sits here now, soaking in the bubbly water filling his claw-foot tub, he shudders at the memory.
He reaches down on the floor for a washcloth to dry his right hand with, so he can use his phone while he soaks. Sighing, he scrolls through the pages of apps, bored out of his mind. Why does he still have Candy Crush on here?
He flips through his social media folder: Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn (he shudders), Tinder, Grindr. Huh, he thinks to himself. There’s a thought. He’s a young, hot, single, gay man in New York City. He just had a long day. It’s Friday night, he’s alone, he’s already in the middle of infusing his skin with a beautiful, completely fuckable, lavender scent. Why not treat himself?
It’s either this, or hang out with Namjoon, who has a three-year-old son. As much as Hoseok loves Namjoon and toddler Taehyung, and cherishes them both dearly, he doesn’t think either of them can really be his wingmen at the bar tonight.
He opens the app, immediately bracing himself for the inevitable barrage of genitalia. He scrolls lazily through the nearby guys, through the sea of “23/fem/bottom”s and “looking for a daddy”s and “masc4masc”s. His personal favorite is “no fats no fems no asians”. Everyone who has ever said the gay community is a beacon of “acceptance and inclusivity” owes him ten dollars.
He sighs for what feels like the thousandth time tonight, thinking maybe he should just give himself a depressing handjob and call it a night. Then he can just curl up on his silk sheets and watch Say Yes to the Dress until he falls asleep, which is probably infinitely more enjoyable than having to navigate the murky and racist waters of Friday-night Grindr in Brooklyn.
He’s about to give in and reach down into the scented purple water to grab his dick when his phone pings in his left hand. He’s so startled he almost drops it into the tub, making another series of “woh woh woh” sounds, but luckily he catches it, and it barely gets wet at all. He looks at the screen, full of hope, even though he knows he really shouldn’t have any left.
And he’s right, he shouldn’t have had hope, because the guy has said only two words to him.
Carbon footprint.
Hoseok almost throws his phone out the open window.
Carbon footprint? What the fuck? Who is this guy?
He looks at the screen again, truly at a loss for words. This guy either has the weirdest sense of humor in the world, or has some sort of renewable energy kink.
To be fair, it’s not the worst kink to have, Hoseok thinks.
Rare kinks aside, something about this stupid, ridiculous, awful message makes him laugh, against his will. He realizes that he’d rather fuck this guy -- even without having seen his face yet -- than fuck one of these masc4masc losers any day of the week.
So he simply replies, “what?” and waits.
A minute later, his phone pings again.
yoongay: dude ur fcking hot im new on here and just looking for a good time
Immediately after reading the message, Hoseok makes the decision to invite him over.
hoesock87: Wanna come over?
yoongay: wow what the fuck that rly worked?///?
hoesock87: Yeah ur funny i like that
yoongay: u dont even wanna see a face pic? what if im gross or bald ?
hoesock87: R u gross or bald???
yoongay:
hoesock87: I refuse to believe that u didn’t just google “cute asian twink” to get that selfie
yoongay: i am a cute asian twink. r u tryna fuck me or no
hoesock87: Yea get ur cute ass over here 82 Lincoln St apt 3L
hoesock87: u might have to ring the buzzer twice sometimes it doesn’t work
hoesock87: But if ur actually bald i’ll be mad.
---
The buzzer rings and Hoseok is still in the bathtub. He scrambles up, sloshing purple water everywhere, yanks the plug so the tub drains, and pulls on a pair of boxers that he finds lying on his bathroom floor. This guy must live, like, down the street. Either that or he ran here.
He buzzes him in and then stands in his kitchen, debating whether or not he has enough time to throw on clothes so he doesn’t open the door for his Grindr hookup looking weird and eager. Even though he is.
He’s running to his room at the speed of light to at least put on a shirt, when there’s a knock on the front door.
“Shit,” Hoseok whispers, and shoves on the first t-shirt he sees hanging off the back of his desk chair. He realizes it’s the shirt Namjoon got him for Christmas as a joke (or at least, he hopes it was a joke) that says, in big block letters, SATURDAYS ARE FOR THE BOYS.
It’s too late to change it now.
He runs back out to the kitchen, takes a deep breath, and opens the door. And standing there is the same cute little twink from the picture, only he looks more grumpy and soft in real life. Like an angry little elf.
“Hey. Sorry for,” Hoseok gestures to himself, “this. I was in the bath and I wasn’t expecting you to be here so soon.”
The little guy in front of him just looks him up and down, invites himself in, and says, “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”
“Seriously! Go check the bathtub. It’s probably still draining.”
“I am not going to check your bathtub . I don’t even know you. What if you try to drown me?”
“You’re okay with fucking a stranger at his house but you’re not okay with going into his bathroom?”
“You have to draw lines, dude.”
“Fair.”
“So,” the guy says, casually, pointing to Hoseok’s shirt. “Saturdays are for the boys, huh?”
Hoseok is considering pushing this little dude out of his apartment and making him come back in 20 minutes. That would give him enough time to change his shirt, and maybe leave the country.
“My friend got it for me as a joke. I told you, I was in the bath ten seconds ago. I didn’t have time to put on my Sunday best.”
The guy just smirks. Part of Hoseok wants to punch him, but most of him just wants to push him onto the bed and fuck him until he’s wet and messy and begging on his silk sheets.
“What’s your name, even?” Hoseok asks, figuring it’s a good thing to know if they’re gonna be having sex in five minutes.
“Yoongi.”
“Oh, cool. I’m Korean too. Hoseok.”
Hoseok has never hooked up with anyone from a dating app before, and apparently neither has Yoongi, and so now, their inexperience is beginning to show. Do they just… get down to it? Do they have to talk a little bit first? Share family backgrounds? Medical history? What’s the protocol?
“You’re clean, right?” Yoongi eventually asks.
“Yeah.” Hoseok replies quickly. “You?”
“Yeah,” Yoongi says, nodding. He takes off his shoes.
“You uh… Want a drink?”
Yoongi just looks at him blankly, like Hoseok is not understanding something. “Are you serious? Yeah, sure, maybe I’ll be thirsty later, after you, I don’t know, fuck me? Jesus. Your profile said you were a dom, don’t be fake.”
Hoseok almost chokes.
He does, though, decide that now is as good a time as ever to get things going. So he grabs Yoongi by the waist and pulls his little body flat up against his own and grabs his chin, tilting his head up so they’re looking each other in the eye. Yoongi’s eyes are wide and his expression is smug and right then, Hoseok makes it his personal mission to wipe that look off his face.
So he kisses him, hard. It’s a good kiss, and Yoongi’s lips are soft and wet and incredibly sweet, and when Hoseok snakes his hands up to Yoongi’s head and knots his fingers in his hair, Yoongi groans a little bit.
He smiles against Yoongi’s mouth and backs him roughly up against the wall, and as soon as he puts his hands on either side of his shoulders, trapping him, his previously smug look is gone. His eyes are open wide, still, but this time, his pupils are blown and his lips are puffy and his cheeks are bright red.
Hoseok slots his leg between Yoongi’s, hitching him up a little further against the wall, and he can already feel him getting hard in his black skinny jeans, just from being pushed around a little bit.
“Agh, Jesus Christ, you’re so,” Yoongi says into his mouth, “fucking hot,” and then laughs against his lips.
“Why are you laughing?” Hoseok asks against the hollow of his neck, where he’s currently biting and sucking little red marks into his smooth skin, drawing a little whine out of Yoongi’s open mouth.
Yoongi just laughs again and breathes, “Carbon footprint.”
Hoseok loses it. “Don’t make me laugh, you fuck,” he says, biting his neck again but also giggling at the same time. “You think you’re really funny. Wow.”
Yoongi just nods. He’s still too cocky for Hoseok’s taste, so he grabs both of Yoongi’s hands, and presses them up over his head against the wall.
“Fuck, dude,” Yoongi whines at his loss of mobility.
Hoseok kisses him hard on the lips. “Is this good?” he asks, still holding his hands up and kissing him again. “Tell me what you like,” he murmurs into his mouth.
Yoongi nods desperately. “It’s so good,” he says, panting, when Hoseok stops kissing him momentarily to let him speak. “Just like, throw me around, I like that a lot. Be rough. Tell me I’m pretty. Make me cry. That sort of thing.”
Hoseok almost cums in his pants. Metaphorically.
“Alright,” he just breathes, hoisting him up a little further on his leg so there’s no way for him not to feel the pressure on his dick. Yoongi squirms but Hoseok just holds him there and kisses him again. “I wanna fuck your mouth, is that okay?”
Yoongi closes his eyes and nods frantically, trying to wriggle out of Hoseok’s grasp. Hoseok takes his hands off Yoongi’s hands for a second and instead puts his arms underneath his thighs, picking him up easily. Yoongi’s breath hitches.
Hoseok carries him out of the kitchen and through the door to his bedroom, with his giant bed and his silk sheets. He throws Yoongi on the bed like he weighs nothing and then shucks off his SATURDAYS ARE FOR THE BOYS shirt (finally) and rids himself of his boxers, too. Yoongi just stares from the bed, still fully clothed in his tight black jeans and black crewneck sweatshirt.
“Are you gonna stay in your funeral clothes the whole night?” Hoseok asks bluntly.
“Fuck you.”
“You want me to undress you, baby boy?”
Yoongi scrunches his nose up at the name, and laughs. “Don’t call me that. How old are you?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Ha!” Yoongi says, pulling his skinny jeans off with slight difficulty. “You’re the baby boy. I’m twenty-six.”
“You look about nineteen.”
Yoongi glares at him darkly. “Don’t even joke. I teach high school and sometimes I get mistaken for a student.”
Hoseok laughs and finally decides to go over and help Yoongi out of the rest of his clothes. “What’s a little baby boy like you doing teaching high school?” Hoseok teases as Yoongi raises his arms up so he can easily slide off his sweatshirt.
“Fuck off. You’re the baby boy.”
“I think whoever’s about to have a dick inside him is, by default, the baby boy.”
“You keep talking about this so-called ‘dick inside me’ but I’ve been waiting, for like --”
At that, Hoseok interrupts him by pushing him (gently) off the bed and onto his knees on the floor. Yoongi’s face flushes and Hoseok can see the outline of his hard cock through his black boxers.
He gives Yoongi what he wants, and pushes his dick against his pretty lips. Yoongi opens up immediately, taking the head in his mouth and sucking hard.
“Jesus Christ, Yoongi.”
Hoseok lets him lick up and down his cock for a little bit, but eventually he grabs the back of Yoongi’s head, entwining his fingers in his dark hair, and starts pushing into his mouth slowly.
“Relax for me, babe,” he says, patting him on the cheek softly with his free hand. Yoongi relaxes his throat and Hoseok sinks in deeper and deeper until he hits the back and Yoongi gags a little when he starts thrusting in and out but Jesus Christ he’s doing so, so well --
So he tells him. “You’re doing so well, baby,” he breathes. “Such a pretty baby boy.”
Yoongi rolls his eyes, but Hoseok notices that they’re watering already.
Make me cry .
So Hoseok lets himself fuck into him over and over and over until there’s saliva and precum dribbling out of Yoongi’s pretty mouth and tears leaking out of his eyes and down his pale face. Hoseok pulls out when he feels too close to his orgasm for comfort.
“Why -- why’d you stop?” Yoongi asks, wiping his eyes and runny nose with his left hand.
“Was gonna cum,” Hoseok says, out of breath. He runs his hand through Yoongi’s hair softly. “You good?”
Yoongi nods. “Can you cum twice?” he asks.
“With you?” Hoseok asks, looking him up and down. He’s a fucking vision, covered in drool and looking so fucked out already without having even been touched. “Definitely.”
“Then cum on my face right now,” Yoongi says, seriously. “I’ll make you cum again.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Yoongi,” Hoseok breathes. “Okay.”
And so Yoongi takes Hoseok’s cock in his long, delicate fingers and jerks it off over his open mouth, and then Hoseok takes over, stroking fast and faster and faster and then he cums hard, coating Yoongi’s forehead, eyelashes, nose, lips.
Yoongi licks what he can off his lips, and wrinkles his nose. “Eat some pineapple, dude.”
Hoseok scowls as much as he can in spite of the aftershocks of his orgasm. “You know, that’s been proven to be a myth.” He plucks a tissue off his bedside table and wipes Yoongi’s face with it.
“You wanna see something?” Yoongi asks after his face is clean, changing the subject and climbing back up on the bed, gingerly. Hoseok suddenly feels bad, because he just came, and Yoongi hasn’t even touched himself yet.
“Sure,” Hoseok says, still out slightly of breath.
Yoongi bends over on the bed so he’s on his elbows and knees, arching his back delicately. “Take my underwear off.”
“Dude, I can’t fuck you right this minute. My refractory period is short, but I’m not, like, Dwayne The Rock Johnson.”
Yoongi just moves his head so it’s turned against the pillow and gives Hoseok a look of disgust. “Just take my underwear off.”
So he does. He slides Yoongi’s boxer briefs down his skinny thighs and he’s not disappointed.
“What the fuck is this?” Hoseok asks, in awe. Yoongi just buries his head into the pillow, letting out a muffled groan. Hoseok taps the base of the little black plug and Yoongi squirms.
“You really are a slut,” Hoseok says, delighted. “This is awesome. Look at you. I’m so lucky.” He pushes the plug experimentally into Yoongi again, who lets out a high pitched whine. “Thank you,” Hoseok says, kissing his right ass cheek, “so much,” kisses his left ass cheek, “for sliding into my Grindr DMs.”
Yoongi laughs into the pillow. “Fuck you.”
“Carbon footprint,” Hoseok says dramatically from where he’s kneeling, eye level with Yoongi’s ass.
“Just fuck me with it.”
“I can’t believe you’ve had this in your little ass the whole time,” Hoseok says, still in awe, ignoring Yoongi’s demand. “Little baby slut. I’m gonna fuck you until you’re crying. How’s that sound?”
Yoongi just whines into the pillow.
“Seriously, I need an answer,” Hoseok says. “Is that okay?”
“Yes, oh my God, yes, make me cry, Jesus Christ, you don’t need to ask, just fuck me, Hoseok, please,” Yoongi begs. “I’ve been waiting for like, an hour, for you to bend me over and r-,” he gasps a little as Hoseok slaps his ass lightly, “r-ruin me.”
Hoseok’s almost completely hard again but he wants to have Yoongi completely wrecked and messy and begging before he gives him his cock. So he slaps his ass again, harder this time, enough to leave a pretty red mark.
He spanks Yoongi over, and over, and over, each time hitting the plug inside him, making him feel so much but at the same time not quite enough. He spanks him until his thighs are trembling, struggling to hold himself up, and his breath is coming in gasps, and his cock is dripping precum onto the silk sheets, begging to be touched.
“You’re making a mess, sweetheart,” Hoseok whispers into his ear. He doesn’t really mind, he’s got a lot more sheets in the linen closet. But Yoongi just starts sniffling, and Hoseok immediately grabs his shoulders and turns him towards him so he’s lying on his back.
“Hey, Yoongi, are you good?”
“I’m fine! I just want,” Yoongi says, sounding almost annoyed through his tears, “to cum. Please.”
“You’re so good, baby,” Hoseok says, relieved he didn’t hurt him. “Such a good boy, oh my God.” And he finally touches Yoongi’s cock and jerks him a little bit and suddenly he’s cumming so hard in long, thick ropes, all over his soft little tummy. Hoseok strokes him through it, squeezing out every last drop until he squirms from overstimulation.
“You look so pretty like this,” Hoseok says. And he really does. He’s lying on his back on those fucking maroon silk sheets, drenched in sweat and cum, his softening cock sitting between his legs.
“Fuck me now, please, Hoseok,” he just demands. “I want your cock while I’m still sensitive, come on.” He rolls over on his stomach again, getting back on his elbows and knees, even though he’s trembling. The little black plug is still inside him, stretching him nice and wide.
It’s almost too much. So Hoseok reaches in his bedside table drawer for lube and a condom, opens the packet with his teeth, and rolls it on. And then, carefully and painfully slow, he tugs on the base of the plug.
Yoongi’s intake of breath is so sharp. Hoseok keeps pulling, watching his asshole stretch over the widest part, shiny with lube. Finally, he pulls the entire thing out. Yoongi’s hole is pretty and pink and flutters without anything to clench around. Hoseok almost cums at the sight of it.
“Your hole is so pretty, baby boy.”
This time, if Yoongi has any qualms with the petname, he doesn’t voice them. He just squirms, uncomfortably empty, begging to be filled.
Hoseok probably doesn’t need any more lube but he drizzles some directly into Yoongi’s asshole, anyway. Yoongi shudders at the sensation and Hoseok shushes him gently. “Relax, baby boy. I’m gonna fuck you, now.”
And he does. He puts the head of his dick in, eases the rest of himself in gently. Yoongi’s trembling so hard from having something so big in his ass, brushing against his prostate, this close after cumming. “Move, you dick.”
“More like move, my dick,” Hoseok says, laughing. Even though Yoongi’s head is pressed into the silk pillowcase, Hoseok can practically feel the glare he’s giving him. “Fine.”
And then Hoseok’s fucking him and it’s brutal. He’s slamming in and out, in and out so fast and Yoongi can’t do anything but bounce back and forth and let himself be filled.
Hoseok’s grip on Yoongi’s hips eventually isn’t enough and so he wraps his fingers in Yoongi’s hair and yanks him upright, so that his hands are no longer on the bed but on the headboard in front of him. Hoseok moves closer so he’s fucking him up against the headboard, and Yoongi’s cock slams into it over and over again and it’s starting to harden again and it’s all so much.
They fuck for what feels like forever, because they’ve each already orgasmed once. They change positions, and Yoongi hovers over Hoseok, barely supporting himself on shaking legs, as he sinks down onto his cock, and oh God the angle is so deep and he feels his prostate getting slammed into over, and over, and over.
Tears glitter on Yoongi’s cheeks as Hoseok thrusts up into him. He doesn’t have the energy to do anything, other than bounce on Hoseok’s dick, and let himself be fucked the way he needs.
“H-Hoseok, I’m gonna,” he chokes out, as his hands stray down to his leaking cock, bouncing up and down every time Hoseok cants his hips upwards.
“Cum for me sweetheart, you’ve been so fucking good.”
So Yoongi wraps his hand around his cock and jerks himself off and then he cums with a whine, making a mess half on Hoseok’s chest, and half on his own.
“Good boy, so good,” Hoseok pants, and Yoongi just lies, pliantly, on his chest as his asshole keeps getting pounded, even though it hurts so much.
Hoseok fucks him until he cums, too, into the condom. He wishes, for a moment, that there were no thin latex layer separating him and Yoongi. He sighs. Maybe one day.
They lie, panting, side by side, on the ruined silk sheets.
“Holy shit, dude,” Yoongi finally says, his voice small and sleepy and raw.
“Yeah.”
“Sorry for crying,” he says. “I know that makes it weird sometimes. It’s not, like, upset crying. Everything just… gets so much, and it’s like, having little tiny orgasms. From your eyes.”
Hoseok just looks at him, crinkling his nose. “Ew.”
Yoongi laughs weakly and smiles a smile that shows his gums.
“Seriously though,” Hoseok says. “Don’t apologize.” He finally feels in control of his body enough to sit up, and drags a sleepy Yoongi upright, too. “Anyway, you gotta get cleaned up, you’re covered in liquids.”
“Yeah, that sounds good,” Yoongi says, still slightly dazed. “I can shower here, yeah?”
“Yeah?” Hoseok says, like it’s obvious. “I was gonna clean you up. You don’t have to do it yourself.”
“Oh,” Yoongi says, stilling. “That’s cool, I guess.”
“I just,” Hoseok says awkwardly. “Aftercare, you know.”
Yoongi just nods, averting his eyes.
In the shower, Hoseok soaps Yoongi’s sticky body up with body wash that smells like oranges. Yoongi is silent, and Hoseok wonders if he made things awkward by offering to clean him up. Yoongi probably just wanted a good one-night-stand and now he’s gone and made things weird.
But after they get out of the shower, Yoongi surprises him and asks if he can borrow something to wear. Hoseok obliges, obviously, giving him his warmest sweatpants and his softest shirt. He has to roll up the sweatpants so his feet can poke out.
Hoseok thinks that Yoongi might want to stay the night but is too awkward and prideful to ask. Of course, he also might have been trying desperately to escape this whole time and has just been too polite to tell him.
But Hoseok has always liked to think positively about things. He’s a hopeful person. So he goes out on a limb, casually saying, “You can stay over, if you want. I was just gonna watch Say Yes to the Dress. We can watch something else, though. I’m not picky.”
Yoongi tries not to look as relieved as he feels. “Sure, that sounds cool. I fucking love TLC shows.”
And at that exact moment, Hoseok thinks he might just love him.
“I’m thirsty, though,” Yoongi says, sprawling out on the newly-changed sheets on Hoseok’s bed. “Can I have that drink you awkwardly offered me earlier?
So he gets him a Snapple peach tea from his fridge, and they lie on the new sheets, under the warm blankets, and watch Say Yes to the Dress until they fall asleep, yelling at the stupid straight people on Hoseok’s laptop screen.
---
Hoseok is woken up by the sound of his phone ringing. And his door buzzing. And someone yelling his name outside the open window.
He decides to take care of the buzzer first, since it’s the most annoying of the three sounds. He glances at Yoongi, who is still sound asleep. He’s curled up in a tiny little ball, and both of his legs are wrapped around Hoseok’s waist. It’s harder to extricate himself than he thought -- partly because Yoongi’s just really fucking cute and Hoseok doesn’t want to leave, but also because his grip is really strong.
He eventually does slip away without waking Yoongi up, and walks to his kitchen in a stupor. He presses the intercom button warily.
“Yes?” Hoseok asks, voice still thick with sleep.
“Hoseok, I’ve been out here for like, ten minutes,” Namjoon’s frustrated voice crackles through the speaker. “You said you’d babysit Tae today. I have that spin class with Andre and it starts soon.”
Hoseok rolls his eyes. It’s hard not to react negatively to Andre, Namjoon’s gross boyfriend. He’s only nice to Taehyung, like, 90% of the time, and takes Namjoon to spin class every Saturday morning against his will, and makes him do a bunch of weird crash diets, even though he hates them. Hoseok is vocal about how much he dislikes the whole situation.
“Yeah, sorry, I was sleeping. Come up,” Hoseok says, buzzing him in. “Wait, Andre’s not with you, is he?”
He can almost hear Namjoon roll his eyes through the intercom. “No.”
“Good. You know he’s not allowed in my home.”
“He’s not that bad.”
“That sounds like you're admitting he's at least a little bad.”
Namjoon doesn't reply. Hoseok just opens the front door so Namjoon can let himself in, and starts making coffee. If he's lucky, Namjoon will just drop Taehyung off and leave, without feeling the need to snoop around the rest of his house, which might lead him to discover a certain little twink asleep in his bed.
He wonders how he's going to explain Yoongi’s existence to Taehyung, who most definitely will want to go into his room, because he loves to roll around on the silk sheets. Hopefully he just won't tell his dad who he finds asleep in there, because then Namjoon will want to pry -- or even worse, double date -- and Hoseok doesn’t know if Yoongi will ever even want to see him again, let alone go on a date with him. Plus, Hoseok’s not sure if he can physically endure an entire night in Andre’s company.
He's pouring water into the coffee maker when the door opens, and suddenly a tiny three-year-old is body-slamming into his legs.
“Seokseok!” Taehyung says excitedly, making grabby hands, asking to be picked up. Hoseok obliges, obviously.
“Hi, Tae,” Hoseok says, booping his tiny nose. “I missed you.”
Namjoon just stands near the door, in his workout clothes, holding Taehyung’s backpack, looking miserable.
“What's wrong with you?” Hoseok greets him bluntly, handing him a banana.
Namjoon takes a bite and gives him a look that says I'll tell you later and just says “Nothing. Can’t wait for spin class.”
Hoseok, personally, can't wait for him to break up with Andre, and get a boyfriend who treats him right.
He's about to voice his opinion when he hears light footsteps from somewhere on his left and he turns his head and there's a sleepy Yoongi in the doorway, dwarfed in his borrowed clothes, looking like he's under attack. To be fair, Hoseok thinks, if he woke up after a night of fucking and suddenly his hookup were there in the kitchen holding a three-year-old, he’d feel weird too.
Namjoon is the first one to speak. “Yoongi?”
Yoongi’s eyes widen at the sight of his coworker standing there, in the doorway. “Oh my God. What are you doing here?”
Namjoon just looks puzzled. “Hoseok is my friend. And babysits my kid sometimes. Why are you here?”
Yoongi shakes his head quickly. He’s not going to tell his coworker, who he’s just beginning to consider a friend, that he met Hoseok on Grindr last night, talked to him for approximately three minutes, and then came over to bang him. Especially not in front of this cute little kid, who is apparently Namjoon’s son. This is all too much.
“Oh my God,” Namjoon says, finally putting his IQ to good use and realizing what’s going on. He sees Yoongi’s bedhead, the oversized sweatpants, the hickeys on his neck.
Hoseok just looks back and forth, to Namjoon, then to Yoongi, then back to Namjoon, confused.
“Yoongi and I work together,” Namjoon explains, awkwardly.
Hoseok almost astral-projects into the sun, right then and there.
He’s always been superstitious. He gets it from his parents, who, to this day, don't let him sleep with the fan on when he visits home, because they don't want him to suffocate in his sleep. Once, when he was seven, he wrote his sister’s name in red pen, and his parents took them both to their family priest because they were so convinced that Hoseok had sentenced her to death.
So yes, he's never quite been able to shake the superstitious genes that have been passed down to him from both sides. His horoscope once told him that he was going to “experience significant financial gains,” and on that exact same day, he got a raise, and found thirty dollars on the sidewalk. Was he truly expected to believe that wasn’t a sign?
So he can’t help but assume that this -- the fact that his best friend just so happens to work with his cute and grumpy and perfect Grindr hookup -- is a sign, too. This is exactly the sort of omen he’s been waiting for -- because he believes in that sort of shit.
Now, he can ask Yoongi on a date, and he knows, he just knows, that he has the universe’s blessing. God, he’s going to take Namjoon out to dinner for this. He’s going to let him order the most expensive thing on the menu. He’s going to buy Taehyung a nerf gun. Ten nerf guns.
Taehyung yanks Hoseok from his moment of introspection when he says, from his perch in his arms, “Hi!”
He’s looking at Yoongi.
Yoongi smiles as much as he can, given the situation, and says, “Hi. I’m Yoongi. What’s your name?”
“I’m Taehyung Kim. I’m three,” he says, matter-of-factly. “How old are you?”
Yoongi can’t do anything but laugh, because this is not how he imagined he’d be spending his Saturday morning.
Hoseok looks cute holding a child, though, and Namjoon is a cool guy, and Taehyung, while still a kid, seems like an alright one, so, he doesn’t really mind. “Wow. I remember three. That was my best year. I’m twenty-six now. Way past my prime,” he says.
“Woah. That’s older than Appa,” Taehyung says, eyes wide. “Are you a grandpa?”
Yoongi just laughs. Namjoon laughs too, and reprimands him lightly. “Taehyung. He’s only one year older than I am.”
“I don’t have any kids, or grandkids, but sometimes I feel tired, like a grandpa,” Yoongi says, seriously. “You’ll understand one day.”
Taehyung looks doubtful, and goes back to playing with Hoseok’s dangly earring.
“Well,” Namjoon says, setting Taehyung’s backpack down on the floor. “Class starts in like, ten minutes, and Andre will throw a fit if I'm late, so. Are you all good here?”
Hoseok nods. He’ll deal with Yoongi in a minute.
“You gonna take good care of Hoseok while I'm gone?” Namjoon asks, squishing his son’s cheeks affectionately.
Taehyung just nods happily.
“How much do I love you?” Namjoon asks seriously.
Every time Namjoon does his parting ritual with Taehyung, Hoseok can't help but feel as though he's intruding on something really special, and private. It’s refreshing to see Namjoon in Dad Mode. He’s so good. Andre doesn’t deserve him.
Taehyung plays along, acting as though he doesn't know. He shrugs dramatically, with both of his arms. Namjoon just grabs him by the hands, stretches his arms as wide as they'll go, and says: “I love you this much, and then some.”
Taehyung giggles while Namjoon presses as many kisses to his little face as he can. “Appa! I love you too.” he eventually says through his giggles, batting him away with his tiny hands.
Namjoon eventually gets going, but he looks sad, again. Hoseok reminds himself to ask about it later.
Now it's just him, and Taehyung, and Yoongi, standing in his kitchen. The silence is broken only by the little grumbling noises coming from the coffee maker on the counter.
“Can I take a shower?” Yoongi asks after a while, his voice low and quiet.
“Oh, sure, totally,” Hoseok says quickly, even though he distinctly remembers rubbing orange-blossom body wash all over him just hours ago.
Once Yoongi is safely in the bathroom and the water is running and the door is locked, Hoseok puts Taehyung down. “You bring anything fun for us to do in that backpack, Tae?”
Taehyung just ignores him. “Why is… Yoon-gi? In your house? Yoon-gi,” he says, testing the unfamiliar name on his clumsy tongue. He starts again, more confident in his pronunciation this time: “What’s Yoon-gi doing in your house?”
Hoseok laughs. “We had a sleepover. Yoongi is my friend, and your appa’s too.”
Taehyung nods knowingly. “Appa’s friend Andre sometimes sleeps over.”
Hoseok perks up at the mention of Andre, hoping to get the truth out of Taehyung. If he says anything incriminating, it’ll help Hoseok make his case. “Andre, huh? What’s his deal? Do you like him?”
Taehyung scrunches his face up and Hoseok has to refrain from jumping for joy. If Taehyung doesn’t like his father’s boyfriend, then it’s all over. Andre is history.
Hoseok doesn’t necessarily enjoy conspiring to sabotage his best friend’s relationship, but what he really doesn’t enjoy is how Andre treats Namjoon. So he doesn’t care all that much.
“I think he makes Appa…” Taehyung begins, thinking carefully about his words. “Sad. Sometimes he says mean things.”
Hoseok feels guilty, suddenly, for asking. He pokes Taehyung on the cheek, trying to get his mind off this weird topic that he feels bad for bringing up. “I’ll talk to him about it, okay? Now I wanna do something fun. What’d you bring?”
Taehyung runs over to his backpack, unzipping it dramatically, so a deluge of loose crayons spills out onto the floor. “Wanna color.”
So they color together in his office (it’s really just a tiny room that he shoved a desk in, but office sounds so nice and professional) until Hoseok hears the water in the bathroom turn off. And then suddenly Yoongi’s there, dressed in his black clothes from yesterday.
“I should go,” he says, lingering in the doorway, like a shadow.
“Okay,” Hoseok says, like an idiot, because there’s nothing else to say.
Yoongi, however, doesn’t leave. He just stands there at the threshold of the office, not quite in the room, but not quite out of it either.
So Hoseok whispers to Taehyung, “Can you color by yourself for just a minute? Yoongi will get sad if I don’t tell him goodbye.”
Taehyung just nods because he’s a big boy and doesn’t need anyone to watch him color.
“Nice meeting you, Taehyung,” Yoongi says, waving.
“Bye, ahjussi.”
“Yah! I’m twenty-six!” Yoongi yells, slightly offended, but also smiling. “You speak Korean?”
Taehyung nods proudly. Hoseok just rolls his eyes, saying, “Namjoon is obsessed with teaching him.”
Taehyung immediately starts rattling off what sounds like a list of every single Korean word he knows, to show off, but eventually, after a lot of coaxing, he says goodbye (in Korean, obviously) and lets Yoongi leave.
They make it to the kitchen, and stand by the door. They’re being careful, as if they are separated by an impenetrable and unidentifiable barrier. “So, thanks,” Yoongi says firmly, looking at some spot on the wall behind Hoseok’s head, avoiding eye contact.
Hoseok takes a deep breath. Yoongi’s definitely not going to initiate anything, here. That’s fine. Hoseok is annoyingly assertive enough for the both of them.
He feels as though there’s a thin, translucent wire knotted around his stomach, and that the other end is knotted, similarly, around some part of Yoongi. Tiny Yoongi, his Grindr hookup, who seduced him with the words carbon footprint . The absurdity of the whole situation makes it perfect.
Hoseok is afraid the thin wire might snap in two if Yoongi walks out the door. So he makes sure that doesn’t happen. He breaches the gap between them, and pushes Yoongi against the door, and kisses him hard enough to bruise.
After a minute of that, he pulls away. “I want to take you on a date, is that cool?”
Yoongi just looks at him, expressionless. He almost looks bored. “Yeah. I’m paying, though.”
Hoseok flicks him in the forehead. “Fine with me.”
Yoongi just says, “Cool.” Hoseok kisses him again, and pushes his tongue into his mouth.
Yoongi bats him away. “God, I want to fight you,” he grumbles.
“Tomorrow?” Hoseok asks, leaning down and pressing his forehead up against Yoongi’s.
“Yeah,” Yoongi says. “Bring a first aid kit. I’m not even kidding. I wanna physically fight.”
Hoseok truly isn’t sure if he’s kidding or not, but he thinks this is Yoongi’s way of showing affection, so he doesn’t question it. He wonders if it’s too early to ask for his zodiac sign. God, the thought of doing Yoongi’s entire natal chart turns him on so much. Instead of asking, though, he just leans closer, gets down right next to Yoongi’s ear, and whispers, “ Carbon footprint. ”
He has no doubt, now, that Yoongi was telling the truth about wanting to fight him.
“God, I really hate you,” Yoongi says, pushing him. “Get away from me.”
“So you wanna cancel our date then?” Hoseok asks.
Yoongi just looks at him, disgusted. “What the hell? No. Come here. Keep kissing me.”
So Hoseok obliges, and kisses him against the door until Taehyung wanders in, and starts clapping happily, because “Seokseok and Yoon-gi are getting married?”
☽
Their date is at a coffee shop that’s lit solely by Christmas lights. Hoseok clearly picked the location. Yoongi is wearing another black outfit.
Sitting across from Hoseok, who’s wearing a floral button down shirt and striped socks, Yoongi feels vague, indeterminate, shapeless. Like a black hole. He tries to shake the feeling that he ruins everything he touches; that he sucks the life out of everyone he kisses. Hoseok is sitting across from him and he is smiling and that is what he focuses on.
“I don’t really date,” he finds himself saying. His hands wrap around the perspiring plastic cup of his iced americano.
Hoseok shrugs. “So, we’ll take it slow. I’ll court you. Or whatever. Buy you flowers and shit.”
Yoongi snorts into his coffee. “I’d rather you just fuck me.”
Hoseok looks around to make sure no one heard, and then sighs. “I’m being serious.”
“Sorry, I know,” Yoongi says. “I just haven’t, like. Expressed an emotion. In a long time. I’m shit at it.”
“Why?”
Yoongi makes a slightly choked noise. “Jesus Christ, this is our first date,” he says, playing with his straw. “You don’t want to know all my emotional baggage until… I don’t know. You probably don’t ever want to know it.”
“Hmm,” Hoseok says. “What’s your sign?” he asks, changing the subject.
“My what?”
“Zodiac sign,” Hoseok says, impatiently.
“Um. Pisces. I think.”
“You think.”
Yoongi just nods.
Hoseok shakes his head. “Do you not base every single decision you make around astrology like the rest of us? When’s your birthday?”
“March 9th.”
“You are a fucking Pisces,” Hoseok says, delighted. “So why don’t you want to open up to me? You’re a water sign . You should be begging me to talk about our feelings.”
“Uh,” Yoongi says. “Past trauma?” he jokes, awkwardly.
Hoseok just hums and kicks him lightly from under the table. It’s strangely reassuring. If he had taken his hand, or tried to hug him or something, Yoongi would have been severely uncomfortable, but a nice soft kick in the shin is exactly what he needed to feel at ease.
Hoseok just talks, and Yoongi is glad, because he isn't sure he can say words, right now. “Listen. I want to date you. If you want to date me too, we can make it work. I don’t need to know about any past trauma unless you want to tell me.”
“Okay,” he just says, more to his coffee than to Hoseok.
“Yeah? So you’re gonna let me take you to see Gone Girl after this? And you’re going to let me kiss you in the back row of the movie theater?”
“Yeah,” Yoongi says, looking Hoseok in the eye now.
“And you’re gonna let me take you home after that and fuck you on my kitchen table?”
Yoongi smiles. “Or we could just… skip Gone Girl, and you could fuck me right here in the bathroom of this lovely establishment,” he says, finally in his element. He’s comfortable talking about sex. He’s not comfortable, yet, holding hands at a coffee shop. That’s fine. Maybe one day.
Hoseok looks at him in disgust. “You know how long I’ve waited to see Gone Girl? I’ve never been this excited to see Ben Affleck get his shit wrecked in my life .”
So they watch Gone Girl, and Yoongi lets Hoseok feed him Peanut M&Ms in the back row.
They get through a significant portion of the movie without talking, but suddenly there’s a Ben Affleck shower scene, and Hoseok can’t help but provide commentary.
“Did they just show Ben Affleck’s penis and not edit it out? You saw that too, right?” Hoseok whispers, aghast.
Yoongi’s too busy kissing Hoseok’s neck to notice. Hoseok pulls him off. “They showed his penis. That definitely was not supposed to be in the shot.”
Yoongi just laughs, and Hoseok grabs his hand with his own and laces their fingers together.
The warmth of Hoseok’s hand grounds him, and suddenly, Yoongi realizes that maybe he’s not quite as vague, or indeterminate, or shapeless as he thought.
It feels nice. Hoseok’s hand is kind of greasy from the popcorn he was eating, but instead of grossing Yoongi out, it just kind of turns him on. Although, to be fair, he’s pretty sure that Hoseok could, like, roll around in the dirt, and it would still turn him on, but that’s neither here nor there.