Work Text:
The sigh that’s been building in Yoongi's chest all day escapes with the beeping of the electronic lock, and he steps through, the door swinging heavily shut behind him. The house is dark and quiet; Yeonjun must've put the kids to bed. He'll have to give him a bonus for the short notice.
Yoongi kicks off his Adult In The Workforce shoes (not with too much force lest they thunk into the wall and wake Jungkook up), and then straightens up with another sigh, the rod of tension holding his shoulders up sliding out and leaving him sagging. He usually gets to make his own hours (distressingly normie now that he has kids and a husband, but, well. He takes lots of naps.), but today he had a mandatory meeting that went long, and then turned into the technically-optional-but-not-actually office Christmas Eve party, and then by the time Yoongi could escape it was 8pm on Christmas Eve and it wasn't a huge deal but he had been looking forward to reading one of their picture books to Jimin and Jungkook (Jimin's pudgy little finger following each word carefully) before tucking them into bed and he really misses Seokjin.
He lets his bag slump off his arm, shuffling into the hall and then bathroom for a glass of water. Seokjin’s job is - fine. It’s fine. The money Yoongi makes as a producer is good but the money Seokjin makes as a Fancy Business Man is better and more than covered the down payment for their really nice apartment. And Seokjin always says he likes it well enough, likes his coworkers, and so Yoongi tries not to resent it too much. But right now, on Christmas Eve (the couples’ holiday when Seokjin first casually-carefully brought up the idea of marriage and Yoongi ended up jumping him there and then), after two weeks of Seokjin being away for Important Business Travel and with another week of it to go, Yoongi lets himself hate Seokjin’s job, just a little.
Yoongi uses Jimin's cup to gulp down cold faucet water, and then replaces it on the sink to splash his face. He should've greeted Yeonjun first, sent him home with a hefty tip, but... He needs to be a person first. Needs to wipe away the surface level of tension, at least, and the fatigue that comes with being an adult with a proper job and errands to run and a capitalist economy to survive in.
He straightens up, wipes off his face with the festive little hand towel Jimin picked out at IKEA and stares at the beginnings of five (six, seven, eight) o'clock shadow in the mirror. Pulls himself together.
He stops by the bedroom to toss his suit-jacket off, frowning at the closed door. He thought he left that open this morning, but maybe Yeonjun closed it to keep the kids out. Jungkook does love to put anything and everything in his mouth, including Seokjin's very expensive cufflinks. Thank god their babysitter is more alert than Yoongi, apparently.
Yoongi opens the door, and on the bed, naked except for the oversized bow covering his dick, Seokjin says, "Hello, yeobo."
Yoongi freezes. Stares at his husband who he hasn't seen in two weeks (fourteen days and ten hours). "Seokjin, what the fuck."
"Merry Christmas!" says Seokjin, and then, "oh, no, sweetheart - don't cry, I just wanted to surprise you - "
"Hyung," Yoongi chokes, and Seokjin scrambles out of his lounging position, arms reaching up to bundle Yoongi onto the bed, and Yoongi flings himself onto him, the first physical contact with his husband in fourteen days pulling the last jenga block out so he collapses into him.
"Baby," Seokjin laughs, tucking Yoongi's face into the crook of his neck so Yoongi can hide his tears and snot. He doesn't complain when Yoongi digs his fingers into his back, just holds him that much tighter. He's here, he's home, warm and broad and smelling like his fancy businessman cologne and cooing at Yoongi in that way makes Yoongi feel small and taken care of, even if Seokjin is only barely his hyung.
"Bad day?" Seokjin asks, once Yoongi has mostly stopped blubbering.
"No," Yoongi sniffs. Crying drained most of the tension from his muscles, letting him slump more fully against his husband. "Just. Missed you. How did you...?"
"Pulled out all my stops," Seokjin murmurs in his ear, "enchanted all the clients. Called in that favor from Ken. Whined at Byulyi Sajangnim."
"She's gonna fire you one day."
"Nah. Not when I cover for all the days she leaves early for her dates with her wife." Seokjin kisses under his jaw. "I missed you too, by the way. And the kids. Even missed reading Jungkook the one about the moon bunny six times a night."
"Shit, the kids - " Yoongi starts to sit up, but Seokjin pulls him back down.
" - are asleep. I sent Yeonjun home and put them to bed." Seokjin kisses him again, and Yoongi relaxes and turns his head to meet him. His memory hadn't done the plushness of Seokjin's lips justice, or the gentle way he moves his mouth, or how he cups the blade Yoongi's jaw in those slightly crooked fingers.
Seokjin is gentle, but Yoongi missed him, and Seokjin makes these noises when Yoongi licks over his teeth, so he does just that, reveling in the groan it draws from Seokjin's broad chest. His naked chest. Yoongi presses himself down to better feel it, claws at the breadth of his shoulders, and satisfaction burns hot in his belly at the way Seokjin breathes shakily into his mouth.
"Yeobo," Seokjin whines when Yoongi ducks down to nip at his delicious swan neck, "your pants are rough."
Yoongi glances down (still sniffing a little). The bow has been thoroughly crushed by his grinding. "You deserve it."
"Wow. That's cold, Yoongi-yah." He groans when Yoongi grinds down again, his cock plumping up against Yoongi's ass, and Yoongi decides to have mercy on him, unhooking his belt and scrambling ungracefully away to kick his pants and underwear off. Grabbing the lube from their nightstand, he shuffles back onto the bed, leaning over to examine the bow.
"Did you tape that to your dick?"
"Thank you for appreciating my work - oh - "
Yoongi sits up with a flourish, holding aloft the (untied) bow like Judith with the head of Holofernes, and preens at the blush high on Seokjin's cheeks.
"I want to sit on your cock," Yoongi tells him, "and I want you to hold me and make up for the past fourteen days and ten hours of being away."
"Okay," says Seokjin, pupils blown, and Yoongi usually likes slow, romantic foreplay, but right now he just needs Seokjin in and around him as soon as possible.
It takes some work (they're both skilled at the ins and outs of Yoongi's ass, but it's been two weeks and eleven hours since Seokjin left), but Seokjin slides into place hot and hard, and Yoongi melts. His legs go limp and Seokjin lets out an oof as Yoongi's ass hits his hips, but Seokjin is strong and can deal with doing the work while Yoongi clings to him with every limb.
"I missed you," Seokjin murmurs again, and grunts when Yoongi tightens his thighs around his waist. He's scooted them back a bit, stretched out one leg for leverage, has a hand gripping Yoongi's asscheek to move him how he needs.
Yoongi sniffs. "Missed you too," he repeats, and then bites Seokjin's shoulder, so he doesn't get a big head about it.
"Ow! Mixed messaging here, Yoongichi."
"Hyung, fuck me harder," Yoongi whines.
"Demanding," Seokjin mutters, fooling neither of them, and gets to work. Before long, Yoongi's work shirt gets soaked with sweat between them, but taking it off would require Yoongi pulling away from Seokjin's flexing arms and shoulders and warmth and kissing the little crow's feet at the corners of his eyes and Yoongi's not a fucking idiot. He'll just steal one of Seokjin's Fancy Businessman Shirts next time he needs one.
Seokjin shifts again, adjusting the angle and sending a wave of warmth shuddering through Yoongi's body. Yoongi's own cock lies against Seokjin's belly, flushed mauve, but Yoongi ignores it, focusing on the slow shudder of heat at every stroke of his husband's cock inside him. He's making the noises he does, he knows he is, and turns his head so that he pants into Seokjin's ear. He used to be self-conscious about it, but Seokjin loves them, and he loves them now, if the way his grip tightens and his thrusts get rougher is anything to go by.
Seokjin mutters something and ducks to kiss Yoongi's neck, sucking his skin between those plush lips, and the heat swells low and urgent in Yoongi's belly. "Hyung. Close."
"C'mon, Yoongi-yah. Honey." Seokjin breathes warm over the abused spot. "Baby. Let go for hyung."
Seokjin kisses him and moves steady steady steady and the shuddering warmth bursts, pleasure shivering all the way to Yoongi's fingertips. In his arms, Seokjin grunts again and pounds into him, and Yoongi goes lax, letting his husband use him as he pleases to chase his own release.
Later, Seokjin eases them back against the pillows, and Yoongi pillows his head on his chest and scritches idle patterns around his happy trail. Seokjin preoccupies himself with doing something terrible to his hair. Yoongi's too warm and happy to care.
"Thank you for coming home early," he mumbles after the sweat has started to cool on their bodies.
"Mm." He feels the muscles in Seokjin’s torso flex as he sits up enough to kiss his hair. "I wanted to come back earlier."
Yoongi's stomach twinges as the memory of his resentment floats to the surface. "Hyung, if - if you held yourself back to come home early - "
"Yoongi-yah." Seokjin pulls him up, grunting when Yoongi limp-kittens in an attempt to avoid eye contact. "You don't hold me back. Not now and not ever. You, and the kids, you're the most important to me. It's never a burden to come home to you."
When Yoongi finally looks up, Seokjin's gaze is dark and level, no trace of mirth in the lines around his eyes. "Sappy," Yoongi manages.
"Coming from you - " Yoongi shoves forward to shut him up and feel Seokjin's smile against his lips, and maybe more -
CRASHthudthud.
Seokjin goes stiff. "What was that."
The door locks automatically - Yoongi knows he heard the closing beep - "The kids - "
Yoongi barely stops to yank on underwear, heart in his throat as he skids into the hall with Seokjin half-robed and hot on his heels. It had come from the living room -
He catches himself on the couch, and it takes a minute for his brain to process that it's not a burglar, that his kids are alive and well in front of him. Very well.
"Kookie!" Jimin hisses, tiny pudgy hands tugging ineffectually at his little brother, who sits serene in the carnage of Santa's cookies around him and on his face. "C'mon, appa's gonna see..."
"Jesus christ," Yoongi breathes, heart giving out in relief. Jimin freezes, and turns around with all the unintended drama only a five year-old caught in the act can manage. He immediately bursts into tears.
"Aigoo, Jimin-ah," Seokjin coos, and immediately gives in to Jimin's arms reaching up to be held. "Are you crying because you got caught, hmm?"
"No-o-o-o-ooooo," Jimin warbles, burying his face in the soft fabric of Seokjin's robe. Jungkook ignores all of them, content to stuff handfuls of crumbs straight from the ground into his mouth.
"Jungkook-ah, cut that out, you'll get yourself sick," Yoongi chides, and bends down to scoop up their youngest. Jungkook whines in protest, grabbing for the rest of his kill, but Yoongi hefts him up with a grunt. He's getting so big; they'll have to get him new footie pajamas soon.
"Just - wanted - t- to - see - Santa - " Jimin hiccups piteously. His sobs would be a little more believable if Yoongi didn't see the frosting smeared over the cuffs of his own pajama shirt.
"Santa comes when you're asleep," Yoongi reminds him, and Jimin turns his head just enough to peek at him, "so the sooner you're back in bed, the sooner he comes with presents, hmm?"
Jimin weighs this information, then turns to bury his face back in Seokjin's armpit with a sniffle. Seokjin's mouth pinches at the corner with the effort of holding back his smile in the soft glow of the tree lights.
"Appa - " Jungkook tugs on his shirt collar, and Yoongi looks down before his toddler can choke him. "Appa."
"Yes, Jungkook-ah?"
"Banana milk?"
"How about I warm you up some regular milk," Yoongi offers. He's already worried the kid won't sleep, with the amount of sugar he's had. "To go with your cookies?"
Jungkook stares, then yawns at him, and Yoongi figures that's as much as of an acquiescence as he'll get.
"Appa!"
"Yes, Jimin-ah?" says Yoongi.
Jimin looks at him piteously from the cradle of Seokjin's arms. "Please make me some milk too please?"
"Of course, Jimin-ah."
Yoongi finagles two sippy cups of milk into the microwave one-armed as Seokjin busies himself with trying to clean up the cookie wreckage (both on the floor and on their babies). While it warms, they let them pick out more cookies to put on a new plate for Santa. Jimin chooses a frosted puppy and a somewhat crooked gingerbread man, laying his offering carefully, and Jungkook settles for two bright red frosted present cookies. By the time Yoongi and Seokjin put them back to bed (together this time), Jimin is yawning and Jungkook is drooling gently on Yoongi's shoulder.
Yoongi tucks them in, and Seokjin kisses both their cheeks, and when they slide under new sheets together, Yoongi just wants to crawl up inside Seokjin and sleep into the new year.
"Merry Christmas, Yoongi-yah," Seokjin whispers. "Thanks for marrying me."
Yoongi had just gotten himself comfy on his chest, but at that, he pushes himself up again. Seokjin looks up at him, open and earnest, and how is Yoongi supposed to do anything but kiss him?
"I love you," is all he can say when he finally pulls back. Seokjin grins, warm and tired and Yoongi's, and all around them the universe settles into place, safe and quiet and home.