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It’s in Newark, after they’re all freshly bathed and piled into one of the suites for their post-concert powwow that all eyes fall on Seokjin. Taehyung doesn't notice, non-verbal and still wound up in his performance high. He’s stuck to Seokjin’s side like an extra limb, feeding him forkfuls of every dessert plate they’re passing around. The latest was a concoction of tiramisu and strawberry, and they'd finished most of it before Taehyung remembered to pass it on, earning a dirty look from Jimin. Seokjin will make it up to him later - Jimin is too forgiving, and the last thing he ever wants to do is take advantage.
“So, your guys’ part in ‘So What’-” Namjoon starts.
“That's not even a stage sign!” Jungkook bursts out from the couch across from them, vibrating with nervous energy. He'd been calm on the way back, still in director mode with his camcorder running, but he's hopelessly young now. Seokjin leans over to catch his hand, squeezing it to reassure him through the anxiety, and Taehyung follows, warm weight at his side until he yelps, Jungkook’s kick connecting with his shin. Jungkook drops to the floor against Seokjin’s knees and takes his hand in both of his, eyeing Taehyung in a challenge that goes unanswered.
Seokjin studies the group, feeling Taehyung's fingers dig into his shoulder to knead the sudden tension there. Alert now, protective with an old familiar stubbornness in his jaw. After the concert, Taehyung inexplicably kissed him in the corner of their dressing room, swift and secretive with warm hands framing his face. They’re usually more restrained; for now, they have to be, even if the sheer openness of the reuniting couples he’d seen when they landed in Los Angeles had him considering elopement for one dizzying moment.
“Kook-ah,” Seokjin soothes, tugging their joined hands to his thigh as he looks back at him. “What’s this about?”
Jungkook stares at him. Hoseok hands over his tablet, his smile wry but fond. “It's not so bad you need to worry like that, Jinnie-hyung,” he chides, reassuring Seokjin.
The Twitter app is open - on his and Taehyung's tag, he realizes after a few seconds of translation, and hears Taehyung “ah” when he reads it too. The fancam plays, the sound muted. It doesn't matter, doesn't do anything to mute the heat in Taehyung's eyes, the way he asks for a kiss.
But Seokjin can only return them in private, on the rare break they can spend together, a day long seduction to savor and drag until it spills over. Not in front of thousands of fans, cameras that'll reach hundreds of thousands more.
Even if Taehyung sometimes forgets, emotion and affection linked hand in hand for him. Taehyung feels so much. It's one of the things Jin loves most about him.
Taehyung plays the clip again, scrolling down to look at the stills. The fan sites haven't posted yet, but no one needs 4k video to make out what Taehyung is asking for. “It was missing,” he explains, a low reminiscent hum against his ear. He’d set his teeth there after the kiss, praised the blush, and it had lingered until Seokjin showered, when the rest of him reddened to match a heat that could never compare to Taehyung. “Your taste.”
It takes Seokjin a moment to catch up, and maybe he hasn't recovered from the performance either, feeling himself flush despite his exhaustion. He’s right, the moment etched in his memory in sharp relief - Taehyung’s beloved face inches away, making him feel bold as he looked out to their fans, the sound of their excitement the only thing that could enhance Taehyung’s familiar croon; the sweat-streaked scent of him, the humming static from their closeness, his light touch; and the taste of him missing, the only thing that could compete the memory.
If he'd known, if he'd seen, he can’t guarantee he wouldn’t have kissed Taehyung. The way he and Taehyung respond to each other is too deeply ingrained. Even on stage - or perhaps especially there, with the adrenaline and joy of ARMY thrumming through them like the heartbeat of a different, freer world.
Taehyung knows it too and curves against him, bumping their foreheads together. His eyes are warm and adoring, as if he hasn't already shattered every defense Seokjin ever had. But he's also rebuilt them, appointed himself sentry of Seokjin’s vulnerable heart, and Seokjin has never felt so strong.
When Taehyung turns to the others, he’s sheepish but unashamed. “I forgot about everyone else,” he explains. “I'm sorry.”
“This guy,” Yoongi grumbles, as if years ago, he hadn’t encouraged Seokjin to be gentle with Taehyung and his awkward obvious crush under the guise of kindness to a boy desperately trying to fit in. “We are literally on stage in front of thousands-”
“Yeah, but it’s the end of the concert, there’s no real choreography to focus on, and adrenaline and endorphins are the only things keeping us upright. None of us are thinking clearly.” Namjoon shrugs. “And you guys have a charged moment in the middle of all that.” He dimples. “Probably could have been planned better, huh?”
“But it’s nice, isn’t it?” Jimin asks, smiling down at Seokjin. He’s stolen the tablet from Taehyung and climbed onto the sofa arm beside Seokjin as he scrolls through the tweets, running some through a translator to show them. He shares a fancam from the night before, Taehyung’s focus unwavering and his smile sweet and open, pulling a matching one from Seokjin. “You guys look really happy. Army can see it too.”
“We are,” Seokjin says, because it's true, their relationship comfortable in a way that still feels new. In the past two years, the fear this would end has led to more than one sleepless night. He and Taehyung have different natures and never enough time to talk with cameras and people encroaching on every moment. But they've grown and in the past year, Seokjin had promised openness and Taehyung had promised devotion, less blind than that of his youth. It feels like they fit better than before, their forever not so far away.
And they have the unflinching support of their friends to ground and shield them, making the wait bearable. Seokjin drops his head on Jimin’s thighs, always grateful for his compassion and kindness. Jimin’s fingers comb through his hair and Taehyung takes Seokjin’s remaining hand, long fingers lacing tightly with his.
He had tensed, hadn't he. Taehyung’s breathing is steady and unworried, and Seokjin’s own breathing slows to match. Both Jimin and Jungkook are solid against him, in a way that means he doesn’t have to be. When he presses a chaste kiss to Taehyung’s mouth, Taehyung melts onto him like the weighted blanket sitting on his bed at home, penning him in.
Jungkook is distracted, showing in how he tucks their hands into the neckline of his hoodie, warming the cold tips of Seokjin’s fingers without him having to play the hyung card for once. His chin is sharp on his thigh when he peers up at Seokjin, worrying his lip. “If you and Tae slip on stage... what if we just called it adrenaline?”
One day, Seokjin thinks, hopes. But for now-
“We can’t let that happen, JK,” Seokjin explains. They had talked about their relationship with management, with the group, back when contract discussions came up and Jungkook had been too upset to include in anything that didn’t directly involve him. He strokes Jungkook’s jaw, wanting to calm him in a way he wasn’t sure he was able to then. His own thoughts had been chaotic. It was difficult to sleep, even with Taehyung and Jungkook occupying his bed more often than not, change and loss stretching before him like he'd fallen and was waiting to hit the ground. And taking advantage of everyone who has supported them is as unthinkable as it always has been. “It’ll invite scrutiny we don’t need.”
“So yeah,” Namjoon says. “We’re probably big enough now that even if you guys actually made out on stage, the government would find an excuse to dismiss it and keep the status quo.”
“They like the money and global publicity too much,” Yoongi says bitterly. “But whatever they say in public, people saw it. They know what happened. You can bet they’re gonna go whine to BangPD about it.”
“And the company’ll trust us to help hide it,” Hobi says wryly. “With things like more friendship dates. You’ll probably be with Joonie for months, hyungie.”
“I’m not a punishment!” Namjoon protests.
“Tell that to my movie collection,” Seokjin retorts, because he’d made the mistake of sitting beside Namjoon for a longer flight, and Namjoon had proceeded to try and ruin Il Mare for him. And Mr. and Mrs. Smith. He’s sure there are more he’s blocking out, but he would like some of his comfort movies to escape Namjoon’s dangerous social commentary.
“Some of them are problematic,” Namjoon says. “I said sorry! I bought you chicken.”
“Like that makes up for it!” Seokjin cries, outraged.
“Jinnie-hyung likes romantic movies,” Taehyung defends, frowning at Namjoon, who isn’t up to challenging them on this. Seokjin can visibly see him bite his tongue and flop back on the couch, hands up in surrender.
Jimin has no such sense of self-preservation and nuzzles Seokjin’s cheek affectionately. “Hyung, we should go on dates again,” he tells him. “You need to restart ‘Eat Jin’ too!”
“You never invite me,” Taehyung pouts. That’s not true. The first time he’d invited Taehyung into his room with food and a plan to stream, his phone had ended up under the bed, recording a clip Taehyung had hoarded away before Seokjin could delete it.
Yoongi interrupts. “Yeah, so the touches and stares and possessiveness get camouflaged because this kind of stuff,” he gestures to Seokjin, trapped between their youngest members, “happens anyway. But a kiss is higher stakes. Harder to hide.”
Jimin’s hand is gentle on his jaw as Seokjin is turned away from Taehyung, chin guided up to meet his smiling eyes. “But you can, right?” Jimin asks, breath warm on his cheek. “You just hide it in more kisses.”
There’s a commotion, a rush, but Seokjin can’t make it out because there are lips on his, insistent and unyielding with the sharp catch of teeth pulling a sound from his throat. It's an opportunity, swiftly caught by the push of tongue against his, the deep vibrating hum that sounds more like a growl, echoing with heat in his own chest.
“Taehyungie,” Seokjin says when they part, when Taehyung presses their foreheads together, his eyes dark with the possessiveness Jimin had goaded right out of him. He’s caged Seokjin in against the arm of the couch where Jimin was sitting moments ago, the angle of his body protective, and when they breathe together, Seokjin can feel the fierce rumble of his breath through his ribcage. He catches Taehyung by the back of his head and gentles him against his neck to feel the inhale against his skin, the not quite careful press of teeth on his pulse.
Seokjin shivers, stills Taehyung’s wandering fingers at his waist and tilts his head back over the arm of the sofa that Taehyung must have pushed Jimin off. “Yah, Jimin-ah,” he calls.
Jimin is crouched on the ground, unruffled, and shoots him a thumbs up with the hand not occupied with his phone. “Got it on video,” he says cheerfully, meeting Seokjin’s eyes. “That was a growl, right?”
“Aigoo, such a tiger cub,” Seokjin coos, ruffling Taehyung’s hair, keeping him just far enough so the sulky headbutt can’t connect with his chin.
“So cute,” Jimin beams, squeezing in between Namjoon and Hoseok. It takes only moments for them to both be peering at his phone over his shoulder, and really, Seokjin doesn’t want to know, especially when Namjoon’s eyes soften and Hoseok starts grinning.
“It’s a miracle this is still even a bit secret,” Yoongi says, pulling apart ribs he must have hoarded away earlier. Jungkook has nuzzled back against Seokjin’s thigh after shoving at the possessive sprawl of Taehyung’s legs, but the way he’s staring at Yoongi, Seokjin knows he’s going to be abandoned before it happens. And Jungkook will succeed, because he's spoiled.
“Hyung,” Taehyung says, taking advantage of Jungkook's distance to stand suddenly, tug at him with a sweeping thumb on Seokjin’s palm, as if to try and make up for the chill left everywhere they were touching before. It won't be nearly enough until they're hidden together under the extra quilts Taehyung has taken to ordering so often that staff brings them without asking anymore.
“We have two days until the next concert, right?” Seokjin says when Namjoon catches his eye after their good nights. They can discuss this tomorrow. For now, Taehyung has a hand spread low on his back, his attention on Seokjin so resolute that he thinks gravity, or the sun, must feel this way.
Nothing is going to be resolved tonight. Not outside of their bed.
It doesn't turn out quite true, because they kiss as soon as Taehyung’s door latches shut behind them, then again in the bathroom with toothpaste tingling on their tongue. But he wakes up with his mouth bruised and Taehyung sleepy-eyed but intent as he licks between his lips, and Seokjin can't spare anything else a thought anyway.