'Cause You Stop the Noise

by deepslowpanic

Chapter 7

Notes:

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this story <3

 

Summertime

“Are you even allowed to play this game?” Yoongi drawls.

Namjoon can hear the smile in his voice before he even turns his head. Yoongi is grinning, his cocky smile making his cheeks bunch. His eyes sparkle in the neon light reflected from the screen in front of him.

“You’re not funny,” Namjoon replies.

“I absolutely am funny, Kim Namjoon,” Yoongi declares. His smile widens further as he shifts slightly in the leather seat. “I just want to make sure you’re not going to get arrested.”

From where he’s perched in his own leather seat beside him, Namjoon can see the way Yoongi’s shoulders shake with suppressed laughter. “I’d tell them you were my accomplice. Or maybe that you kidnapped me.”

“No one would believe you,” Yoongi retorts, a wheezy giggle slipping out. “I’m a model citizen.”

“I seem to remember you being repeatedly banned from Neopets for trash talking,” Namjoon points out. “Doesn’t sound like a model citizen to me.”

Yoongi laughs louder, reaching between them to pinch Namjoon’s thigh. “Fuck you,” he chuckles, “I was being unfairly targeted.”

“Uh huh,” Namjoon deadpans, nodding along. “And didn’t you actually get arrested once?”

“I was unfairly targeted then too,” Yoongi says, giving a casual shrug. “They had the wrong guy.”

Namjoon bites his cheek to hold in his smile. “You spray painted your ex-boyfriend’s car.”

“No,” Yoongi corrects. “I spray painted Hoseok’s ex-boyfriend’s car.” He sniffs imperiously. “And he deserved it. Fucker cheated on him with a guy from a rival dance team.”

“Very noble,” Namjoon says. “I’m sure they dropped all the charges when you told them that.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “They should have.” Another shrug and then Yoongi leans closer. “You know how it is though, Joon-ah. It’s the lifestyle, right?”

“Live fast, die young?” 

“Always,” Yoongi agrees. “But, you know, that’s why we got into this. Punk’s all about freedom. Freedom of expression and doing things your own way. We gotta break the rules to make shit better, yeah?”

It’s been years now since Namjoon found punk rock and everything that goes along with it. But Yoongi is right, like he always is when they talk about stuff like this. It’s just not usually at an arcade. Usually it’s over music in one of their bedrooms, sitting cross legged facing each other on the floor or lying curled close on Namjoon’s bed. Sharing kisses between words, finding excuses to touch. Talking about what drew them in, about finding a place where they belonged. 

He doesn’t really agree with all the ideals, doesn’t believe in all the anarchy and nihilism that people preach. At least not anymore, now that he’s not an angry teen. But the aspects Yoongi talks about, freedom to be yourself, turning things upside down when they don’t feel right - Namjoon still believes in those. That’s what keeps him in the music, keeps him going to shows. 

“Are you trying to relate bullying Seokjin on Neopets to punk subculture, hyung?”

Yoongi pinches him again, sticking out his tongue. “Shut it, Joonie,” he laughs. “I just want to make sure we keep your record squeaky clean.”

“I’m not that clean,” Namjoon huffs. When Yoongi just raises an eyebrow, Namjoon rolls his eyes. “I shoplifted a candy bar once.”

“Kim Namjoon!” Yoongi gasps, hand flying to his chest. He clutches at the collar of his shirt, doing an excellent job of looking scandalized. “I can’t believe I’m dating a criminal. For shame!”

Namjoon reaches over to pinch Yoongi this time, shoving at his thigh before pulling back. “You’re ridiculous, Min Yoongi. I think you’re just worried I’m going to beat you like I did at Skee Ball.”

Another gasp, but this time Yoongi frowns, brows furrowing. “Slander,” he hisses. “That was a fluke, and besides, there’s no way I’m going to lose this -” he gestures to the game screen, “- to a man who doesn’t even have a driving license.”

“You don’t need a driving license for a racing game,” Namjoon argues, even though he knows Yoongi is just teasing.

It’s cute, really, how competitive Yoongi gets. A surprise, something Namjoon hadn’t expected when he asked if Yoongi wanted to go to an arcade on a date. But Yoongi is snarky and sarcastic, teasing Namjoon when he wins, pouting when he loses. A sore winner and loser, but Namjoon can’t be mad. He’s so fucking cute about all of it, Namjoon can’t help grinning at his preening boyfriend or leaning over to kiss his pout away.

At the racing game, the two of them in chairs side by side, Yoongi is being sassy again. He’s grinning at Namjoon, lounging casually in the chair. He has one wrist braced on the top of the wheel now, other hand lose on the gear shift. There’s something decidedly sexy about it. Namjoon would like to see Yoongi drive an actual car, see his hands on the steering wheel. Maybe it’s a competency kink, maybe it’s his boyfriend’s big veiny hands, or maybe Namjoon’s just fucking whipped.

“You clearly didn’t learn your lesson,” Namjoon quips. “The number one Neopets trash talker is still going strong.”

Yoongi laughs, throwing his head back as he cackles at Namjoon’s words. “And don’t you forget it!” he replies, before turning to his game screen. “Come on, babe, you’re about to eat my dust.”

When Namjoon loses a few minutes later, Yoongi laughs, saying he knew someone with a license couldn’t beat him. Which could be part of it, but Namjoon was too distracted to play well. He wasn’t able to focus, not when he was reeling over the fact that his boyfriend called him babe. Casual, nonchalant, as if he’d done it a million times, as if it wasn’t a big deal.

But it was definitely the first time and it definitely felt like a big deal. Namjoon’s belly is so full of butterflies, there’s no way he could be expected to race under these conditions.

“Yeah, yeah,” Namjoon says when they stand and step away from the game. “You’re the arcade game champion. Get your tickets.” He pauses, licks his lips. “Babe,” he adds, fighting to keep his voice normal.

Yoongi blinks, freezing for a moment where he was reaching to grab the tickets. He doesn’t react, clearing his throat and turning away to grab the tickets the machine is dispensing. But Namjoon notices, when Yoongi fiddles with the beanie over his orange hair, that the tips of his ears are a brilliant red.

“Okay,” Yoongi says, spinning back around to face Namjoon, tickets clutched in his fist. “Basketball game?”

“Sure,” Namjoon says, not commenting on the pretty pink flush on Yoongi’s cheeks. The butterflies return as Yoongi flashes him a smile and takes Namjoon’s hand, tugging him toward another section of games.

They play games for a while longer, moving between the machines and gathering tickets for their effort. Yoongi preens when he beats Namjoon soundly at the basketball toss, but accuses Namjoon of cheating when Namjoon beats him at air hockey.

His pout is nothing a kiss can’t fix. Namjoon tugs him behind a row of pinball machines, cupping Yoongi’s cheek to nudge their noses together and draw him into a kiss. Yoongi melts against him, hands curling in the front of Namjoon’s shirt to pull him closer. The sound of the music around them, the noise of the games, fades to nothing but a dull roar as Yoongi smiles against his lips.

“Are you trying to distract me so you can win?” Yoongi murmurs their lips a breath apart.

Namjoon smiles, pecking Yoongi’s lips once more before drawing back. “Is it working?”

“Maybe,” Yoongi laughs. “Do you want to play more games? The dance one?”

“I think I’m good,” Namjoon says. “I don’t want to break my neck.”

“Fair,” Yoongi responds, still chuckling. “Food? I think they have snacks here.”

Nodding in agreement, Namjoon lets Yoongi guide him along again. They make their way past the games, Namjoon spotting a counter where they can order food. He angles toward it but stops suddenly when his arm is yanked backwards. Puzzled, Namjoon turns to see that Yoongi has stopped walking. Instead, he’s staring at a glass display at the edge of the game area.

“Hyung?”

Yoongi glances at him and nods toward the glass counter he’s staring at. “Prizes, Joon-ah. We should cash in our tickets.”

Frowning, Namjoon reaches into his pocket, pulling out a handful of tickets in crumpled reels. “Do we have enough for prizes?”

It’s probably embarrassing, as they spread all of their combined tickets on the counter, how few they seem to have. There’s a group of kids at the other end of the counter with a veritable mountain of them, debating between huge plushies and colorful candies.

“I’m sure we can get something,” Yoongi says, though he sounds a little unsure.

“I swear I used to be better at arcade games,” Namjoon mumbles. “Is this part of getting older? Do we suddenly lose the ability to play DDR when we hit twenty five?”

Yoongi snorts, thumbing through their tickets. “Maybe,” he replies. “It’s like how I’m exhausted after standing at a show. God, can you imagine moshing? I think I’d be crushed. I used to slam dance with the best of them but -” he cuts off, shaking his head. “Am I about to start only going to shows with seats?”

“Did you know I debated on buying seated tickets for MCR?” Namjoon admits. He grins when Yoongi gasps. “Don’t pretend to be offended, I felt like I got hit by a truck the next morning.”

“Fair,” Yoongi laughs. “I did too.” He pauses, counting the rest of their tickets and pressing them into a small pile. “You know…” he continues, leaning an elbow on the counter and turning his full attention to Namjoon.

“What?” Namjoon prompts.

Tilting his head, Yoongi offers him a small smile. “It’s pretty crazy we met at the show, right? Like, out of everyone, I’m the one you elbowed in the nose.”

“On accident,” Namjoon adds. He frowns as Yoongi’s smile grows, pointing an accusing finger at him. “And don’t say I stole your sweatshirt!”

“Okay, okay,” Yoongi says, shoulders shaking as he chuckles. “I just mean,” he goes on, “if you had bought seated tickets, we wouldn’t have met.”

“Oh.” Namjoon licks his lips, considering that, considering not meeting Yoongi. If he hadn’t, Namjoon’s life would be very much the same as before the concert. Calm, a little boring, days passing slowly. But with Yoongi…

Things are, well… things are better. Namjoon knows things weren’t bad before, he was fine, things were fine. But there was nothing exciting, not much to look forward to other than shows on the weekends. With Yoongi in his life, Namjoon wakes up to good morning texts, goes to sleep smiling at cute selfies. He has a boyfriend he can talk about music with, can express his thoughts and not feel judged. Namjoon can kiss him whenever he wants, hold Yoongi close and listen to him rant about how awful Glenn Danzig is.

Things are better, good. 

“Do you think we would have met at a local show?”

“Maybe,” Yoongi offers, shrugging one shoulder. “I’d like to hope we would have eventually. I definitely like having you in my life, Kim Namjoon.”

At this point, Namjoon thinks he should maybe see a doctor for the butterflies perpetually trapped behind his ribs. “I’m really glad I met you,” Namjoon offers. Being honest about his feelings doesn’t feel very hard around Yoongi, despite the swooping in his belly. “Like, things were fine before but… I’m really happy.”

Yoongi’s answering gummy smile has Namjoon’s heart flip flopping. “I am too, Namjoon-ah.” He ducks his head, hiding pink cheeks. “God, look at us. This is embarrassing, isn’t it?”

“Probably,” Namjoon agrees. “But I like when you tell me how into me you are.” He reaches out, hooking his fingers in Yoongi’s belt loop to tug him a little closer. “You’re kinda obsessed with me huh?”

Yoongi snorts again, but he’s still smiling, peeking up at Namjoon from beneath fluffy orange hair and long lashes. “Yeah,” he says softly, “I guess I am.”

Namjoon feels gooey inside, as if he’s about to burst into confetti or melt into a puddle on the floor. It’s a weird feeling, but it’s a very good one. He tugs Yoongi a little closer, barely any space between them now. Words bubble up Namjoon’s throat, lingering on the tip of his tongue. Things he isn’t sure he should say, isn’t sure he’s entirely ready to admit.

Too soon, too fast, too much. But maybe…

“Can I help you?”

Snapping his head to the side, Namjoon finds a bored looking employee watching them. He closes his mouth and withdraws his hand from Yoongi’s waist. The words on his tongue slide back, tucked away to grow and bloom, waiting for the right moment.

“What can we get for these?” Yoongi says smoothly, gesturing to their measly pile of tickets.

The employee counts them quickly and hums, glancing into the glass display case. “Anything on the bottom shelf,” he says. “You have enough for two of anything on the right, one of anything on the left, and maybe a handful of Hi-Chew.”

Yoongi frowns, looking displeased with the selection. Namjoon scans the shelf. On the right are hair scrunchies, flimsy keychains, string bracelets. The left has slightly less flimsy looking keychains, beaded necklaces and bracelets, little charms. “What do you think, hyung?” Namjoon asks.

“Well, it doesn’t seem fair to just get one thing. We should each get something.” He squints into the case. “Is that a knock off Gudetama?”

Namjoon sweeps his gaze over the items again, eyes landing on a basket of braided string bracelets. They’re thin and unassuming, but cute. Yoongi tends to wear bracelets, woven string and braided leather, maybe… “What about those?” he asks, pointing to the basket.

Following Namjoon’s pointing finger, Yoongi stares at the pile of braided string. “Bracelets?” When Namjoon nods, Yoongi hums thoughtfully. “I like bracelets.”

“We could get matching ones,” Namjoon blurts.

Glancing up, Yoongi studies him for a moment, blinking slowly. “Like... couple’s bracelets?” he asks.

And - well, that might be a bit much, a bit weird. Saying a little of what Namjoon had wanted to admit before, showing his hand. “Well, I -”

Yoongi’s blank expression morphs into a smile, soft and warm. “I love that idea,” he interrupts. “That’s cute.” His smile widens. “You’re cute.”

“Shut up,” Namjoon grumbles.

“I will not,” Yoongi says simply. “I’m your hyung, you can’t tell me to shut up.” Yoongi points to the basket. “Two of those, and some Hi-Chews.”

The employee sets two bracelets on the counter beside a small pile of candy. Black and gray braided thread, couple’s bracelets. Yoongi picks one up, handing the other to Namjoon before loosening the strings on his own, slipping it over his fingers. “You know,” Yoongi says, retightening the bracelet around his wrist and studying it, “this is very gay.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes, sliding his own bracelet over his hands. “I’m gay,” Namjoon huffs. “So are you.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi agrees, holding up his wrist beside Namjoon’s. The bracelets are a perfect match, making something in Namjoon’s belly wobble as he stares at the string. “Still gay though.” Yoongi grins at him, slipping his fingers between Namjoon’s. “Maybe you’re the one obsessed.”

Probably true, probably not a lie at all.

“Come on,” Yoongi says gently, still smiling as he turns away from the counter. “Let’s get snacks.”

Namjoon follows along, eyes still fixed on the matching bracelets just above their clasped hands. It’s hard to look away, even as they eat and talk, Namjoon finds his attention continuously drawn to the matching strings. Yoongi doesn’t comment, though it’s clear from the curve of his lips that he knows.

“Do you want to come over after this?” Yoongi asks a bit later as they head for the exit. “Hoseok is probably there, but we could hang out for a while.”

“I’d love to, but I have work early tomorrow. We’re getting a new shipment of monstera tomorrow and I said I’d be there to help.” He squeezes Yoongi’s fingers. “Raincheck?”

Yoongi squeezes back. “Of course. Next time.”

Definitely next time. Namjoon is already regretting how early the shipment is coming in, knowing he’s missing out on time he could be kissing his pretty boyfriend. “Maybe when Hoseok isn’t home?”

“Pervert,” Yoongi teases, giving Namjoon a knowing grin. “I’ll take that into consideration for next - oh!” Yoongi cuts off, coming to a stop again. “Wanna do this?” Yoongi asks, lifting their linked hands to point near the doors.

A photo booth. “Are we going to fit?” Namjoon asks. “It’s kind of small.”

“We’ll fit,” Yoongi insists, dragging Namjoon toward the curtain. “We’ll just have to get close,” he adds, shooting Namjoon a wink as he tugs him inside.

It’s as cramped as Namjoon expected, too small for two grown men. But, like Yoongi said, they make themselves fit. Cuddling close together, Namjoon nearly wrapped around Yoongi’s back as Yoongi fumbles with the controls. 

“We get four pictures,” Yoongi says as he leans back. 

Namjoon tries to shuffle out of his way, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind how close they are. He drags Namjoon down onto the little bench, perching on his lap and slinging an arm over his shoulders. 

“This okay?” Yoongi asks, as the machine begins counting down.

Hands coming up automatically to Yoongi’s waist, Namjoon nods. “Yeah,” he breathes, transfixed by Yoongi’s smile, the weight of him across his thighs.

The camera clicks, the flash goes off, and Namjoon knows he wasn’t looking at the lens. But, then again, Yoongi was staring at him too. They focus, Yoongi shifting a little on his lap as the machine counts down again. Smiles this time, pleased and warm. A third picture, Yoongi holding up a peace sign as Namjoon gives him bunny ears.

And as the camera counts down for the final picture, Yoongi turns to face him again, smiling sweetly. His hand comes up to Namjoon’s cheek and as the shutter goes off, Yoongi’s lips find his, pressing their smiles together as flashbulbs burst around them. 

When they tumble out of the photo booth, a little breathless and pink cheeked, two strips of pictures are waiting for them. Namjoon is thankful no one seems to be waiting for the booth, knowing they may have gotten a little carried away making out in the small space while the pictures printed.

“These are cute,” Yoongi announces. 

Tucking his chin over Yoongi’s shoulder, Namjoon peers at the photos in his hand. Four little boxes in black and white. The two of them smiling dopily at each other, then at the camera. Then the kiss, Yoongi’s smile evident as their lips meet. The bracelet on Yoongi’s wrist is visible where he cups Namjoon’s cheek with his palm. 

“We look good together,” Yoongi observes, nudging him lightly. “Don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon agrees. “Really good.” 

They stay like that for a moment, studying the photos before Yoongi tilts his head, lips brushing lightly against Namjoon’s cheek. “Come on, Joonie,” he says. “Let’s head out, your monsters need you.”

Stepping back, Namjoon accepts Yoongi’s offered hand, pushing through the doors to the sidewalks. Dusk has fallen after hours spent in the arcade, most of the day passing by. But not wasted, not when they were together. 

“Monstera,” Namjoon corrects.

“Same thing,” Yoongi laughs. “Come on.”

As they part on the subway platform, Yoongi passes Namjoon one of the strips of photos before kissing him goodbye. Alone on the train, Namjoon studies the little pictures, smiling down at the images of them together. When his stop comes, Namjoon stands and tucks the pictures carefully in his wallet. He thinks Yoongi was right, they do look good together. 

---

Upon arriving home, Namjoon is not surprised to find Jungkook and Taehyung on the couch with Jimin. He is surprised, however, to find them making out. Jimin is sitting sideways on Taehyung’s lap, leaning into Jungkook who is beside him. Their lips are locked in a heated kiss, Taehyung’s own mouth buried somewhere in Jimin’s neck. 

Namjoon blames his surprise for how loudly he accidentally closes the door. Instead of being able to sneak to his room and give them privacy, he announces himself with a literal bang. They break apart, Jimin nearly tumbling onto the floor before Taehyung catches him, Jungkook letting out a tiny scream.

Three pairs of wide, startled eyes fix on Namjoon. He’s sure he looks just as shocked as they do.

“Uh,” Namjoon says dumbly. “Don’t, uh - don’t stop on my account.” He cringes at how awkward he sounds. “I mean, um… don’t mind me. I’m just going to…” he trails off, gesturing vaguely.

This is not going well at all.

Namjoon practically breaks his ankles trying to kick his sneakers off as fast as he can, one of them hitting the wall with a thunk that makes him wince. He’s very cognizant of the fact that no one else has said anything, that there is a very palpable cloud of awkward tension in the air.

“Sorry!” He says, voice much too high. “Just going to my room!”

The speed at which he scurries past the couch and into the hallway could almost be called a sprint. Shoving open his door, Namjoon hurries into his bedroom and closes the door behind him, trying not to slam it. He’s mostly successful, though he’s sure his friends can hear the thump of his body as Namjoon slumps against it.

His phone vibrating in his pocket has Namjoon biting his lip to quiet a startled squeak. Fishing it out, he sees a text from Yoongi.

[Min Yoongi]

Did you get home?

[Kim Namjoon]

I should have stayed with you

He absolutely should have, monstera be damned. Namjoon could have gotten up extra early to come home for clothes, or just worn what he had on and made do. Then he wouldn’t have had to see his friends sucking face in the living room. 

[Min Yoongi]

???

Are you okay?

[Kim Namjoon]

Fuck

Yeah I just… saw something shocking

Honestly, Namjoon doesn’t care that his friends were making out, doesn’t even care that he had to see it. He’s happy for them, happy that it seems like they’ve finally figured their shit out. Now he doesn’t need to watch them yearn after each other, though he’s sure watching them being in love will be just as bad. He just hopes he didn’t ruin anything with his sudden arrival.

[Min Yoongi]

I repeat

Are You Okay??

Namjoon can’t help but smile anyway. Fuck, it took them long enough.

[Kim Namjoon]

Yeah, sorry

I walked in on Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook

[Min Yoongi]

Huh?

Wait WHAT!

Tell me EVERYTHING

Namjoon grins, sinking down to the floor as a flurry of emojis comes through, and begins to type.

---

Namjoon has made his way from the floor to his bed by the time a knock comes twenty minutes later. He’s lying on his back, texting Yoongi and listening to a playlist, trying not to think about how much tongue he saw. He blinks as his door creaks open, finding a sheepish Jimin peeking in at him. Looking back down at his phone, Namjoon types out a quick message.

[Kim Namjoon]

Jimin is here

I’ll text you later

[Min Yoongi]

Oh damn

Tell him congrats from me!!

Dropping his phone, Namjoon returns his attention to the doorway. Jimin is still hovering there, the door barely open. He looks uncertain, frowning as he peers down at Namjoon’s throw rug.

“Hey,” Namjoon says gently. “Wanna come in?”

Jimin glances up, hesitating with his tongue poking into his cheek before he slumps, letting out a breath. “Can I snuggle?”

“Would it matter if I said no?”

“No,” Jimin replies, the hint of a smile returning.

Namjoon shifts over, shoving his phone aside and opening his arms for Jimin to join him. His roommate’s smile strengthens and he crosses the room, climbing onto the bed and burrowing against Namjoon’s chest.

They lay there in silence for a few minutes, Namjoon idly rubbing Jimin’s back, before Namjoon speaks. “So you and JK, huh?”

“Yeah,” Jimin says softly. “Me and - well, us and JK.”

Namjoon smiles at the ceiling, squeezing Jimin’s shoulder. “About damn time.” A pinch to his side has Namjoon flinching away, grumbling as Jimin’s fingers tickle along his ribs.

“Shut it,” Jimin huffs. “Good things take time,” he continues. “Like finding Yoongi!”

“I guess,” Namjoon agrees. “Anyway, how do you feel?”

Jimin hums softly, curling his arm around Namjoon’s torso again. “Good,” he murmurs. “It’s just…”

“Hm?” Namjoon prompts, when Jimin doesn’t continue.

“Ugh,” Jimin groans. Blowing out a frustrated breath, Jimin pushes himself up so he can look down at Namjoon. He’s frowning, brows pinched into a serious expression.

“Uh.” Namjoon blinks up at him in concern. “Why ugh? Because I interrupted you? Were you about to swallow Kookie whole and I ruined this for you?”

Scrunching his nose, Jimin grimaces down at him, poking Namjoon in the side again. “No, shut up. I just - you’re not mad, are you?”

“Mad?” Namjoon echoes, puzzled by Jimin’s words and his serious expression. “What are you talking about?”

“You know, about like… the three of us dating or whatever?”

“First of all,” Namjoon begins, “I hope it’s not whatever. I’ve had to watch too much of your lovesick antics. If the three of you aren’t boyfriends, I will throw myself into traffic.”

“You are not funny,” Jimin deadpans, though the corners of his lips lift a little.

Namjoon shifts on the bed, tugging Jimin down and rolling onto his side so they can face each other. Jimin curls close, still frowning but looking a little less petulant. “Min, why would I be upset about the three of you being together? I’ve been urging you to go for it for weeks.”

“I know,” Jimin whines, bottom lip pushing out into a pout. “We just don’t want you to feel left out.”

As if Namjoon could feel left out. Namjoon can never get a moment’s peace from them and that didn’t change when Jimin and Taehyung started dating. He’s sure Jungkook’s addition won’t change anything either. If anything, Namjoon is sure everyone will be at their apartment more and he’ll find himself at the bottom of far more puppy piles.

“Park Jimin,” Namjoon begins, squeezing Jimin’s hip in warning, “if this is your way of inviting me into your polycule, I am moving out.”

With a huff, Jimin rolls his eyes, pout vanishing. “Hyung, I’m trying to be serious.”

“So am I,” Namjoon insists. “I have a boyfriend and neither of us are interested in expanding our relationship.”

“Is this your way of telling me I’m being an idiot?” Jimin asks, expression softening.

“Absolutely,” Namjoon confirms, giving Jimin a dimpled smile. “Jimin-ah, I have no worries about you leaving me out or forgetting about me. We’re good, okay?” When Jimin hesitantly nods, Namjoon pats his hip lightly in encouragement. “Excellent. Just, you know, don’t fuck on the couch or anything.”

“No promises,” Jimin teases.

“Horrible.” Namjoon grimaces. “Just clean up after, I can’t even be mad. I’m glad you and Taehyung finally confessed.”

Jimin’s smile slips a little, his cheeks pinkening. “Well, actually…”

“Don’t tell me…” Namjoon begins, eyebrows rising into his hairline. “Jungkook confessed to you?”

“Ugh,” Jimin groans again, louder this time. “It’s embarrassing. Taehyung and I were sure we’d fuck things up, sure Jungkookie couldn’t feel the same way. Especially today, he was acting so weird when we went out for bubble tea. We got back here and he was so fidgety!” Jimin explains. “So Taehyung asked him what was wrong and Jungkook just mumbled and curled in on himself a little. So I pushed a bit, said he can tell his hyungs anything and - bam!”

“Bam?” Namjoon echoes. “What did he do, propose?”

Another pinch to Namjoon’s side. “No,” Jimin hisses. “He just like - blurted it out! It was a little jumbled, really fast. But he said he’s in love with us and knew we didn’t feel the same, but he didn’t want to hide it from us. God, hyung, he looked like he was going to cry!”

“Oh wow,” Namjoon breathes.

“Yeah!” Jimin agrees, nodding emphatically. “And like, we couldn’t really understand him? So Taehyung asked him to repeat it and he got all teary. Oh my god I almost died,” Jimin confesses. “Poor baby was so upset and so nervous, but he said it again, more clearly and - well… you saw the aftermath.”

“I did,” Namjoon confirms. “So you just… started making out?”

“Of course not,” Jimin huffs, glowering at Namjoon. “We are adults. We talked about everything, obviously. Taehyung and I confessed as well and Taehyungie cried a little. Then we all held hands for a while and then, well, Jungkookie asked if we could kiss him and…”

“And then you tried to swallow him whole,” Namjoon finishes for him.

This pinch is harder, Jimin twisting his fingers a little to hear Namjoon yelp.

“You’re the worst,” Jimin hisses. “Where has my supportive hyung gone?”

“I’m right here,” Namjoon laughs, scooping an arm beneath Jimin to pull him close. “I just don’t want you worrying about me. I’m good, okay? I’m happy.”

Jimin hums softly against his chest, wrapping his own arms around Namjoon. “I’m glad you’re happy, glad things with Yoongi are good.”

“They are good,” Namjoon says, able to feel the little string bracelet on his wrist. “And I’m glad you’re happy. Now you have two boyfriends to be gross with.”

“I do,” Jimin agrees, giggling against Namjoon’s shirt. “Thanks, hyung,” he adds, cuddling close and squeezing Namjoon tightly. “Now tell me…” he trails off and pulls back.

Namjoon blinks at him, confused, until his eyes catch on the paper pinched between Jimin’s fingers. The photo strip, the pictures of him and Yoongi from the photo booth. Maybe Namjoon had been looking at it again, slipped it beneath his pillow when Jimin came in.

Flicking his eyes away from the pictures, Namjoon finds Jimin grinning at him. “What’s this, hyung?”

---

“Namjoon-ssi?”

The voice startles him, Namjoon jumping and nearly dropping the bag of potting medium he’s holding in his arms. He spins around, soil spilling in an arc around him as he turns away from the shelves of plants.

His coworker is standing there, looking surprised by Namjoon’s reaction. “Namjoon-ssi,” she begins again, carefully not looking at the spilled soil, “someone is here to see you.”

“Someone is…” he trails off, eyes widening as he notices the person standing a few paces behind his coworker. “Hyung?”

Yoongi smiles, a hint of teeth and gums. “Hi, Joon-ah,” he greets. Namjoon is very aware he is still clutching the large bag of potting soil and probably covered in a noticeable layer of dirt. “I thought I’d surprise you,” Yoongi says, stepping closer. “I brought coffee.” He lifts his arms, displaying two plastic cups of iced coffee. His sleeve slips down and Namjoon can see the braided bracelet on his wrist.

Namjoon barely registers his coworker moving away, leaving them alone in the back with the plants. He’s too busy staring at Yoongi’s pretty smile, the hint of a blush on his cheeks. Too busy thinking about the matching bracelet on his own wrist.

Realizing he must look ridiculous, Namjoon sets the bag of potting soil down, wiping the worst of the dirt on his apron. He takes a step closer, feeling, ridiculously, like Yoongi might disappear. Sure, Namjoon has brought Yoongi coffee at work before, shown up with any excuse to kiss him for a few minutes between shelves at the bookstore. But Yoongi has never visited him at work. It feels a little surreal. “You’re here.”

Yoongi’s smile grows, eyes sparkling in amusement. “Here I am,” he confirms. “Alive at last.”

A grin tugs at Namjoon’s own lips and he feels absolutely, horribly enamored as he closes the last of the distance between them. “And I’ll savor every moment of it,” he finishes, bringing a hand to Yoongi’s hip to draw him closer.

“That was so cheesy,” Yoongi mumbles, but he doesn’t pull away, smile wide and gummy.

“Yeah,” Namjoon agrees, leaning in. “But you started it.” He barely gets the last word out before Yoongi is lifting on his toes to press their mouths together.

---

“Do you want to dance?” Yoongi asks, leaning into Namjoon’s side. His lips brush the shell of Namjoon’s ear, breath across Namjoon’s skin making him shiver. It’s noisy in the bar, but not so loud that Yoongi needs to get as close as he does.

Namjoon’s not complaining though, definitely doesn’t want Yoongi to move away. He loops his arm around Yoongi’s shoulders before he can move back, turning his head to find Yoongi only a few inches away. Like this, so close, Namjoon can see the freckles across his nose, count every one of his long eyelashes and see the lights reflected in his eyes.

“Joon-ah?” Yoongi prompts, when Namjoon doesn’t answer.

Blinking, Namjoon forces himself to refocus, to drag his attention away from just how pretty his boyfriend is, and focus on his words instead. “Sorry,” he replies. “What did you ask me?”

Yoongi smiles and shakes his head, fondly exasperated. “I asked if you want to dance.”

He nods toward the dance floor and Namjoon follows the line of his gaze. It’s crowded there, the open space away from the tables tucked past the bar. Bodies writhe on the floor to the music, the pound of which Namjoon can feel in his bones even from this distance. He can make out Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook on the dance floor. Flashes of pink and blue and black as they move together, appearing and reappearing between other dancers.

It’s nothing new, seeing them dancing together. They dance together all the time, the three of them practically one being at clubs and bars and concerts. But it’s very clearly different this time, very obvious there is a new layer. They’re closer, hands lingering and sliding to more dangerous places, gazes more heated. Before they disappear from view again, Namjoon sees Jimin pressed between Jungkook and Taehyung, his head thrown back in laughter.

They look happy. Happier than he’s seen them in ages.

“They’re cute together,” Hoseok observes, beaming from over the rim of a bright pink cocktail.

Beside him, Seokjin shakes his head. “Honestly, I’m still shocked by this development.” He turns to Namjoon, eyes wide. “You’re really telling me they weren’t dating before?”

“They weren’t,” Namjoon confirms. “Just Jimin and Taehyung.”

“Wow,” Seokjin breathes. “They seemed so…”

“I know,” Yoongi agrees when Seokjin trails off. “I thought so too! When Namjoon-ah told me they weren’t all together I thought he was messing with me.”

Draining the rest of his drink, Hoseok claps his hands, smiling happily. “Well, better late than never, right? I’m glad they’re together now!”

“Here, here!” Seokjin agrees, draining his own glass. Yoongi nods along, taking a sip of his beer.

Seeing Seokjin’s drink is empty, Hoseok pushes up from the table, extending a hand and wiggling his fingers. “Dance with me, yeobo?”

Seokjin grimaces but pushes to his feet. “I’m going to do the lawnmower,” he warns.

“If you don’t do the sprinkler too, I’ll find someone else to dance with,” Hoseok challenges, grabbing Seokjin’s hand and dragging him away.

Left alone at the table with Yoongi, Namjoon picks up his beer, taking a sip. “Is he really going to do the lawnmower?”

“For sure,” Yoongi responds. He leans into Namjoon’s side, sliding a palm along his thigh. “Is that a no to dancing?”

“Do I have to?” Namjoon asks, frowning at the dance floor. He doesn’t really want to dance. Not when it’s hot and crowded and Yoongi is cuddled against his side.

Yoongi hums, squeezing his thigh. “No,” he replies. “We absolutely don’t have to dance.”

“Do you want to?” Namjoon asks. “If you want to, we can -”

“Babe,” Yoongi interrupts, fingers pressing into Namjoon’s thigh. Namjoon immediately snaps his mouth closed with an audible click. The pet name makes his head go fuzzy, butterflies zooming in his belly. “I don’t really want to dance either,” Yoongi admits. “Just thought you might want to hang out with your friends.”

“Friends? What friends? Who needs friends?” Namjoon jokes. “I’m good right here.”

Smiling, Yoongi pats his thigh lightly. “What do you want to do then?”

“I can think of a few things,” Namjoon replies, leaning in to meet Yoongi’s smile with his own.

If they’ve been left alone for the moment, Namjoon thinks they might as well take advantage of it. Yoongi must agree, no hesitation as his chin tilts up. Their lips press together, a gentle brush of petal softness. Warmth blooms in Namjoon’s core, filling him as Yoongi presses close, curls his fingers more firmly around Namjoon’s thigh.

Bringing his hand to Yoongi’s hip, Namjoon uses the arm around Yoongi’s shoulders to draw him closer. Their heads tilt, mouths slotting more firmly together as the kiss deepens. It’s dark in the bar, in this little corner they have for themselves. The music and noise of the crowd fade away, everything melting as Namjoon gets lost in the feeling of Yoongi’s mouth.

Yoongi nips lightly at Namjoon’s bottom lip, sucking the flesh into his mouth and making Namjoon gasp. When his lips part, Yoongi takes advantage of the opening, releasing him to slide his tongue over Namjoon’s tingling bottom lip. Namjoon meets his tongue with his own, squeezing Yoongi’s shoulder, trying to press him closer, as their tongues tangle.

It’s easy to forget they’re in public when Yoongi tastes like beer and the sweetness of cherries, his mouth hot and wet and addicting. Namjoon wants to press him onto the bench seat of the booth, climb over him and get his mouth on his throat, his chest, his cock. Have Yoongi under him, writhing and panting, flushed all pretty pink.

Like a few nights ago, when Namjoon had Yoongi pinned to the mattress, Yoongi’s cock down his throat and Yoongi’s fingers buried in his hair. The sounds he had made. Breathless and needy, desperate. Namjoon nearly came all over Yoongi’s bed just from that. He wants more of that, more of those sounds and that feeling.

Namjoon can feel himself beginning to chub up in his jeans. He knows they should stop, should pull back and rein things in. But Yoongi’s hand is creeping higher up on his thigh and Namjoon’s head is spinning with the way Yoongi’s tongue is curling around his own and -

“Wow!”

They break apart at the sound of a voice, Taehyung’s voice, Namjoon nearly falling over. He probably would have tumbled right off the bench, if not for Yoongi’s hands on him. Namjoon turns, finding Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jimin standing beside the table, watching them with wide eyes.

“Damn,” Jungkook intones, looking impressed.

“Wow, hyungs,” Jimin giggles. “And you said I was trying to swallow someone whole.”

Frowning, Namjoon picks up a cocktail napkin off the table and throws it at his friends, ignoring the exaggerated kissing sounds they’re making. But Yoongi just laughs and buries his face in Namjoon’s chest, shoulders shaking with his wheezy laughter, and maybe Namjoon can’t be too mad.

---

Tipping his head back, Namjoon closes his eyes, letting the conversation between his friends blur a little. He lets his mind wander as the train speeds steadily on, thoughts of gummy smiles and bright orange hair filling his mind. A nudge in his side has Namjoon opening his eyes and glancing over, finding Jimin watching him. Namjoon blinks, pulled unceremoniously from his thoughts, and raises an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Where are we meeting them?”

Namjoon hums, glancing down at his phone screen, already open to his text messages with Yoongi. 

[Kim Namjoon]

You guys there yet?

“Probably just outside,” Namjoon says as he waits for a response.

Taehyung appears from around Jimin’s shoulder. “Doors are at eight, right?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook answers for him, popping up from over both of them. “Show starts at nine.”

It’s been fun, all seven of them getting together and hanging out. Namjoon has been used to his very small circle of friends for a long time, it’s nice to expand it. Sure, adding three people may not seem like much, but it feels like a lot. And it feels nice. 

They’ve been going out for drinks and to bars, meeting up when they can. Namjoon knows Seokjin, Taehyung, and Jungkook have started playing video games together, and Jimin and Hoseok are taking a yoga class. Going to a show together feels just as natural.

It’s not a big show like My Chemical Romance, but it’s with a decently sized headlining band. A local show, but one with a couple groups that have actually toured around Asia, one that’s been to America. He’s sure Seokjin and Jungkook will get sucked into a circle pit and Jimin and Hoseok will dance so hard Taehyung has to carry Jimin home. A good time, especially when Namjoon knows Yoongi will be there.

As if summoned by Namjoon’s thoughts, his phone buzzes with a new text.

[Min Yoongi]

Just getting off the train

You close?

“They just got off the train,” Namjoon narrates. “So we’ll probably meet them in line, hold on.”

[Kim Namjoon]

Almost there

Get in line and we’ll meet you?

[Min Yoongi]

Sounds good, babe

See you soon

The last message ends with a little heart and Namjoon smiles down at his phone, belly fluttering at the combination of the pet name and a heart emoji.

“Why are you smiling at your phone?” Jimin asks, trying to peer at the screen.

Scowling, Namjoon shoves him away. “Nothing, shut up. They’ll get in line.”

“Cool,” Jimin says, giving Namjoon a smug grin, “babe.” Namjoon groans as his friends dissolve into giggles.

---

The line isn’t too long, making Yoongi easy to find in the crowd. His bright orange hair definitely makes him easy to spot, their groups merging and huddling together. There’s a slight chill in the air, autumn in full swing, and Yoongi is quick to burrow into Namjoon’s side.

“Hey,” Yoongi murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to Namjoon’s lips as the rest of their friends greet each other loudly.

Namjoon smiles, wrapping his arm around Yoongi to pull him closer. “Hi,” he responds, kissing him again, their lips lingering a moment. “Cold?”

“A little,” Yoongi admits, arms snaking around Namjoon’s waist. He smiles up at him, looking small and pretty with a smudge of makeup around his eyes. “I guess I’ll have to get an actual coat out soon.”

“Sweatshirt not enough?” Namjoon asks, taking in Yoongi in his oversized hoodie. He’s dwarfed by the material, nearly swallowed by the black fabric. It’s a good weight, Namjoon knows from wearing it himself, but he imagines it wouldn’t be particularly great as winter outerwear.

Shivering slightly, Yoongi nuzzles closer, tucking his head beneath Namjoon’s chin. “Not really,” he admits. He tilts his head up, giving Namjoon a fond smile. “But I’m better now.”

By the time they make it inside, Namjoon is pleasantly warm from having Yoongi against him. They separate enough to navigate comfortably through the crowd. Yoongi tangles their fingers together, leading Namjoon to the bar for the drinks.

As the venue fills, their group sticks together, talking over the low rumble of the crowd and the buzz of the amplifiers. Namjoon doesn’t think he’s ever felt so relaxed at a show, here surrounded by his friends, laughing as Jungkook spills an entire beer down his shirt. Yoongi is a grounding presence beside him, leaning against Namjoon even when he’s talking to Jimin or Seokjin. Always there, keeping Namjoon tethered to the moment by the press of his arm or the brush of his hand.

The press of the crowd when the first band takes the stage splits their group. Namjoon digging his heels in and Yoongi’s firm grip around his wrist seems to be the only thing that keeps them from getting separated. By the time the first rush for the stage ends, Namjoon and Yoongi are left alone somewhere near the edge of the crowd. Namjoon can just barely see a flash of bright blue somewhere near the middle that he thinks might be Taehyung, but he can’t be sure.

After a quick squeeze, the fingers around his wrist slide to his hand, fingers linking with his own, and Namjoon glances over. Yoongi is smiling at him and Namjoon doesn’t hesitate to return it. Sure, the point of the night was for them to all go to the show together, but Namjoon would be lying if he said he wasn’t pleased to be with just his boyfriend. They’ll find everyone else after.

Namjoon can’t help but think of their first date, the first time he and Yoongi went to a show together. The two of them in the middle of the crowd, buffeted on all sides by the sea of moving bodies. Yoongi pressed to Namjoon’s front, leaning against his chest. Past Namjoon may have been a little bit of an idiot for not realizing that it was a date. Present Namjoon just feels really fucking lucky.

Unlike that first date, they’re not jostled so much by the crowd. Having been pushed more to the fringes, nearly by the wall, it’s a little more peaceful than in the center. They could get closer if they wanted to, push through the crowd to get near the front. But Namjoon doesn’t really feel the need to be in the center of the action anymore, able to hang back and just enjoy the music. He’s happy that Yoongi seems to feel the same way. 

When Namjoon glances over, Yoongi is bobbing his head to the beat, thumb tapping the back of Namjoon’s hand. He seems to sense Namjoon looking and glances up, giving Namjoon another smile.

It feels good, all of this. Those feelings Namjoon felt before, happiness and warmth and more all swirling inside of him. In moments like this, surrounded by his favorite things, it’s hard not to feel more. It’s hard not to feel like really liking Yoongi might be something more.

Licking his lips, Namjoon looks over again. This time, Yoongi is already watching him. There’s a look on his face that’s soft, so fond, something in his expression Namjoon can’t quite read. But as their eyes meet, Namjoon doesn’t think he’s quite so alone in his feelings.

Yoongi steps back, tugging Namjoon with him by their clasped hands. They’re already close to the wall, it doesn’t take much for them to reach it and for Yoongi to lean back. He sinks back against it, dropping Namjoon’s hand to trail his palms up Namjoon’s arms. Warm hands slide over Namjoon’s shoulders, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him in.

The pounding of the bass drum echoes Namjoon’s heartbeat. Everything is hot and electric and Yoongi is here, right in front of him, and Namjoon feels a little like he’s falling. 

Namjoon brings his hands to Yoongi’s waist, pressing close and letting Yoongi draw him down. Yoongi is smiling, eye flashing with the technicolor lights of the stage as Namjoon stares at him. Words bubble on the tip of Namjoon’s tongue. Four letter words that mean so much and not enough at once. When Yoongi closes the final distance between them, pressing their mouths together, Namjoon hopes he can feel them too.

---

“Drinks?” Taehyung asks when they file out into the night a few hours later.

It always feels odd to be outside after the show is over, suddenly out of the oppressive heat and noise of the venue. Even the crowded bustle of the city feels wide and open, the air clean and crisp. The chilly autumn air definitely feels good now on Namjoon’s sweat-dampened skin.

“I think Hoseokie and I are going to head out,” Seokjin says. “Next time.”

“You’re no fun,” Jimin huffs.

Jungkook, clinging to Jimin’s back, nods in agreement. “Couple of old grandpas.”

“This grandpa would like to get laid,” Hoseok says easily, looping his arm through Seokjin’s. “Bye!”

Namjoon, standing beside a chuckling Yoongi, is ready when the full force of three pouts is turned on him. “We’re not going either.”

“For similar reasons or…” Taehyung trails off, wiggling his eyebrows.

“None of your business,” Namjoon snaps. 

Jimin rolls his eyes. “You’re also no fun.”

“We can do drinks next week,” Yoongi suggests. “And I bet if we bug Seokjin enough, he’ll have us over and cook for us.”

“Oh!” Jungkook lights up. “Hyung says he has a cool gaming set up too, I want to see it!”

“Fine,” Jimin relents. “Well, if you’re tired and planning to get a lot of sleep, we’re all staying at Tae’s tonight.”

“My bed is the comfiest,” Taehyung chimes in with a grin.

Jimin nods in agreement. “And the biggest.” He turns back to Namjoon, giving him a very exaggerated wink. “So I won’t be back until tomorrow. Apartment to yourself if you, you know, want some privacy for sleeping.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Namjoon grumbles, shoving his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt. “I’ll see you tomorrow, bye.”

A chorus of farewells and wolf whistles follow as he turns and begins walking down the sidewalk, Yoongi falling into step beside him. It’s fine, just some teasing. His friends are always like that, he knows Yoongi doesn’t care and -

“Make sure to use a condom!” Taehyung’s deep voice splits the night, followed by more raucous laughter.

Namjoon can feel his cheeks heating despite himself. He is an adult man with a very health sexual appetite and a very pretty boyfriend. There’s no reason he should blush and feel nervous. Hell, he’s seen Yoongi naked, touched him nearly everywhere, but… 

Well, they haven’t gotten that far yet.

“Hey,” Yoongi says softly, nudging Namjoon. “I don’t have to come over if you don’t want me to.”

Blinking, Namjoon glances over, finding Yoongi watching him with a look of mild concern. “Of course I want you to come over.”

“Okay,” Yoongi says. “I’d like to come over. Do you want me to stay the night?”

“Yes,” Namjoon says immediately.

Yoongi nods. “I’d like that too.” He raises an arm, slipping his hand into Namjoon’s hoodie pocket and intertwining their fingers. “Joon-ah, what your friends said -”

“I’m sorry, hyung,” Namjoon interrupts. “They can be so embarrassing.” He shakes his head, letting out a quiet groan. “Yoongi hyung, just ignore them,” he continues, giving Yoongi a pleading look. “I don’t want you to feel pressured. If you don’t want to do anything, we don’t have -”

“Who says I don’t want to do anything?” Yoongi cuts in, eyebrows raising to disappear beneath his orange fringe.

They pause at a street corner and Namjoon opens his mouth to speak, closes it. Tries again. “I don’t want to pressure you.”

“You’re not pressuring me, baby,” Yoongi says kindly. “I was going to say I don’t want to pressure you.”

“Oh.” Namjoon frowns, angling toward the subway entrance as they continue walking. “So,” he begins, “to sum things up. We both want you to come over and spend the night.”

“Yes,” Yoongi agrees.

“And neither of us feel pressured,” Namjoon adds.

“This sounds correct.”

“I see.” Namjoon licks his lips, brain suddenly whirling with possibilities. All of those possibilities having some pronounced effects on other areas of his body. Clearing his throat, Namjoon refocuses. “Okay,” he says, nodding decisively as they step off the stairs into the subway terminal. “So, let’s just…” he trails off, glancing over.

Yoongi smiles at him and squeezes Namjoon’s fingers. “See where the night takes us?”

“I like the sound of that,” Namjoon agrees.

Their train doesn’t arrive for a few minutes, so Yoongi drags Namjoon into a corner of the station, pulling him close to press their lips together. Yoongi’s chilly fingers slip beneath Namjoon’s sweatshirt, fingertips pressing through the thin cotton of his t-shirt as their tongues tangle. When their train pulls into the station, they break apart, smiling breathlessly at each other for a heartbeat before jogging for the doors. On the train they sit close together, legs pressing and hands linked on Yoongi’s thigh. They share Namjoon’s earbuds, Yoongi’s head resting on Namjoon’s shoulder in the mostly empty train car. 

Namjoon thinks that seeing where the night takes them seems pretty fucking good so far.

---

“Do you want anything to drink?” Namjoon asks, flipping on the bedroom light and gesturing Yoongi inside.

Yoongi steps through the doorway, shrugging off his sweatshirt and tossing it on Namjoon’s desk. “Mm, maybe a drink?”

“Sure,” Namjoon says, nodding as he unzips his own hoodie. “I’m just going to use the bathroom then I’ll grab you a drink and I’ll be back. Make yourself at home.”

“Okay,” Yoongi says, giving Namjoon a smile as he hits down on the edge of the bed. “Take your time.”

Namjoon absolutely does not want to take his time, not when Yoongi looks so pretty and when he’s sitting on Namjoon’s bed. He’d much rather be on the bed with Yoongi, kissing him silly, than doing anything else. But Namjoon nods and hurries out of the room.

He tries to hurry, using the bathroom and washing his hands. He contemplates quickly washing up, aware of how sweaty he got during the show, but he doesn’t want to be too presumptuous. Besides, he doesn’t really think Yoongi will care. And maybe he’ll just get sweaty again…

That thought has Namjoon gripping the edges of the sink and practicing a few deep breathing exercises. He wills the blood in his body back to his brain and away from his dick. He's not nervous, not really, it’s not like he and Yoongi haven’t fooled around before. Namjoon’s just a little worried he might immediately come on the spot once they get into the action.

If Namjoon wastes a little bit of time giving himself a whispered pep talk in the bathroom mirror, that’s between him and the towels. 

Leaving the bathroom, Namjoon heads for the kitchen and grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. He cracks the top, taking a few gulps before replacing the cap. Pulling a second bottle from the fridge, Namjoon nudges the door closed and makes his way back to his bedroom.

“I grabbed you water,” Namjoon says as he shoulders open the door. “But we have juice if you’d ra -” he cuts off abruptly, words dying on his suddenly useless tongue. 

“Water is fine,” Yoongi says. His voice is a low purr, but Namjoon barely registers the words, can barely register anything from the way the blood in his head has, once again, rocketed south.

“You - you’re -” he stammers, cutting himself off again.

Yoongi cocks his head to the side, orange bangs sliding across his forehead. “Me?” he asks, blinking wide, innocent eyes at Namjoon.

But he is the picture of anything but innocent.

Min Yoongi is kneeling in the center of Namjoon’s bed wearing Namjoon’s old Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge t-shirt. It’s ancient, faded and worn with a few rips. Well loved and a little thread bare, a favorite. Seeing Yoongi in it is already a lot, but… He’s kneeling there, palms resting on his bare thighs, the hem of the shirt just barely brushing the tops of his legs… Yoongi is wearing the shirt and, very clearly, nothing else. 

Namjoon drops the water bottles and practically throws himself across the room to reach the bed.

The kiss Namjoon pulls Yoongi into is heated and hungry, their teeth knocking together with the force of it. Namjoon feels a little manic, desperate to get his hands and mouth all over his boyfriend. There’s something about seeing Yoongi like this, pretty and pink and in just Namjoon’s shirt that makes everything feel like it’s on overdrive.

Namjoon’s body is a live wire. Every sensation is magnified and none of it is enough. He presses Yoongi into the bed, pleased when Yoongi lets him, winding his arms around Namjoon’s neck to draw him closer. Their lips slot together, tongues tangling in a wet kiss. It’s messy, greedy mouths pushing and pulling as Namjoon’s hands roam.

There’s so much bare skin beneath Namjoon’s fingertips. So warm and so soft as Namjoon slips his palms beneath the hem of the t-shirt Yoongi is wearing. He slides his fingers along Yoongi’s ribs, smoothing along his skin and pulling him closer. Yoongi gasps, shuddering beneath the touch, his teeth nipping at Namjoon’s tongue, his bottom lip.

Breaking the kiss, Namjoon stares down at his boyfriend’s flushed face. Yoongi’s lips are swollen already, eyes hooded and pupils blown. Namjoon’s hands shift beneath Yoongi’s shirt, thumbs brushing the pebbled peaks of his nipples.

“Ah,” Yoongi breathes, “Namjoon.”

He trembles beneath the touch, eyelashes fluttering and teeth sinking into his bottom lip. Namjoon loves how sensitive he is, how even the lightest touch will make Yoongi react. “You look so good like this,” Namjoon murmurs, pushing himself up onto his knees.

Kneeling between Yoongi’s spread thighs, he can sweep his gaze down the line of his boyfriend’s body. Yoongi’s arms have fallen away from Namjoon’s shoulders to rest on the bed instead, fingers curled into loose fists by his head. His orange hair, already tousled, fans across Namjoon’s dark blankets. And lower… the t-shirt across his chest, lifted a little where Namjoon has his hands beneath it, bunched up around his wrists.

Yoongi’s soft belly, pale and perfect, the sparse trail of hair below his navel. And beneath that… fuck. He’s already hard, cock flushed and leaking, curving up toward his belly. So pink, everything so pink. From his rosy cockhead to his pink balls, all neatly shaved. Namjoon knows he’s pink everywhere else too, even if he hasn’t had his fingers and mouth and other things in those places.

But tonight…

“You’re so beautiful,” Namjoon whispers, ducking down to attach his lips to Yoongi’s neck. He pinches and tugs at Yoongi’s nipples, punctuating the movements of his fingers with nips along Yoongi’s jawline. His mouth trails along soft skin, lips and tongue and teeth making pink flowers bloom along the pale expanse of Yoongi’s throat.

Every sound Yoongi’s makes is euphoric, his body jerking beneath every touch. He writhes under Namjoon’s ministrations, hips jerking to rut his cock against Namjoon’s clothed hip. Namjoon can feel the heat of Yoongi’s erection through his jeans, can feel as Yoongi grinds against him for friction. Against his own zipper, Namjoon’s cock is desperate for relief as well. He practically throbs inside his pants, aching for release, for touch. But right now… right now, all he wants is to touch Yoongi.

Namjoon shifts down the bed, shoving up the t-shirt to press kisses down the center of Yoongi’s torso. Featherlight, teasing presses of his mouth that have Yoongi’s stomach muscles jumping, have his thighs tightening around Namjoon’s shoulders. Yoongi’s cock is leaking against his belly and Namjoon pauses to breathe over the head, loving the way Yoongi whines, how he shivers from the sensation.

“Joon-ah,” Yoongi grumbles, “don’t tease me.”

Smiling, Namjoon nuzzles into the crease between Yoongi’s thigh and groin, nosing at the silky soft skin. “It’s so fun though,” he whispers, nipping lightly at Yoongi’s inner thigh.

Yoongi jumps, a gasp leaving his lips, and Namjoon smiles again, pressing a kiss to the stinging bruise. “You’re so pretty,” Namjoon whispers, before Yoongi can scold him again. “So pretty for me.”

“Mm,” Yoongi hums, shifting slightly. Long fingers slide through Namjoon’s hair, carding through the strands. “Just for you, Namjoonie,” Yoongi purrs.

Just for me, Namjoon's mind repeats. Something warm clenches in his belly, a possessive flair making arousal burn brighter. His hands slide along Yoongi’s legs, squeezing into the soft flesh of his thighs, as he leans in, licking a wet stripe up Yoongi’s cock.

“Oh fuck,” Yoongi rasps, hips jerking and hand tugging at Namjoon’s hair.

But Namjoon holds him down, tightening his grip on Yoongi’s thighs as he sucks the head of Yoongi’s cock into his mouth. He suckles lightly, tracing his tongue just beneath the crown. The hitch of Yoongi’s breath tells Namjoon he’s found a sensitive spot. Namjoon doesn’t take much of Yoongi into his mouth, tongue lapping at his slit before holding him between parted lips. Even when Yoongi whines, Namjoon stays shallow, just the tip of Yoongi’s cock in his mouth.

“Joon-ah,” Yoongi groans, “are you trying to kill me?”

With one final flick of his tongue, Namjoon pulls back. Pushing up onto his knees, Namjoon licks his lips, staring down at the debauched form of his boyfriend. Still in that fucking t-shirt, all of Namjoon’s wet dreams come to life. Horribly sinful, better than anything Namjoon could have ever imagined.

“Turn over,” he grunts.

Yoongi blinks at him, lips dipping into a frown. “What do you -”

“Turn over, baby,” Namjoon repeats. His hands move to Yoongi’s hips, helping his boyfriend flip onto his belly and push up onto his hands and knees. Yoongi arches his back and -

And fuck. Okay. Maybe this is even better. This, with the hem of the t-shirt brushing the top of Yoongi’s perky ass. It makes all this look almost innocent. Almost. If not for his cock hanging heavy between his legs. If not for the perfect round globes of his ass and the waxed hole Namjoon knows he’s going to find.

Bringing his palms to Yoongi’s ass cheeks, Namjoon squeezes until his fingers dimple the supple flesh. Yoongi’s ass is an absolute wonder. Firm and round and already turning a very pretty pink just from Namjoon’s touch. Yoongi is so easy to mark up, so easy to have a flush climbing his chest or bring out love bites on his porcelain skin. Namjoon’s mind whirls with the possibilities of how else he could mark Yoongi up, what else he could create with this unmarred canvas.

Yoongi wiggles slightly, whining again, and Namjoon licks his lips. Next time. There’s plenty of time for that later.

Pressing his thumbs into Yoongi’s skin, Namjoon slides them toward the cleft of his ass. Slowly, Namjoon spreads him open, exposing Yoongi’s hole. It’s just as pink and perfect as Namjoon knew it would be. He can’t help but stare, thumbs tugging lightly at the edges of Yoongi’s rim to see the way Yoongi clenches. When he pets the pad of a thumb over his entrance, Yoongi shudders, spine bowing before he arches again.

With a huff, Yoongi peers over his shoulder. “Are you just going to stare at me?”

No. Namjoon absolutely is not just going to stare. Not when he could get his mouth on Yoongi instead. Without preamble or bothering to respond, Namjoon dives in, burying his face between Yoongi’s cheeks, and licks a broad stripe over his hole.

“Oh, Jesus fuck,” Yoongi groans.

And that’s all the encouragement Namjoon needs.

Namjoon laps at Yoongi’s rim, circling the ring of muscle and flicking his tongue. It’s been a while since Namjoon has eaten someone out, but he’s always enjoyed it. Especially when the person receiving the attention has enjoyed it as well. And Yoongi is definitely enthusiastic about the attention, moaning and pressing back against Namjoon’s probing tongue. He can feel Yoongi’s hole clench as he laves over his entrance, broad stripes with the flat of his tongue interspersed with teasing licks.

He could do this for hours, or at least until his jaw got tired. Fingers gripping the plush curves of Yoongi’s ass, tongue swirling over pink skin. Namjoon points his tongue, pressing against Yoongi’s entrance to slip the tip of his tongue inside, drawing another gasp from his boyfriend.

Yoongi crumples to his elbows, hands fisting in the sheets as he groans. When Namjoon prods at Yoongi’s rim with the tip of his finger, Yoongi breathes out a strained god, yes. “Joon-ah,” he rasps, voice low and strained.

“Hm?” Namjoon hums in acknowledgment, not wanting to stop what he’s doing.

“Joon-ah,” Yoongi repeats, voice a little stronger. “Baby, do you have lube?”

Freezing, Namjoon pulls back. “Lube?” he echoes.

“Yeah,” Yoongi confirms. He looks over his shoulder, eyes hooded and dark, pupils blown wide. His lips are swollen, a kiss bitten red that Namjoon wants to nip and bite. “Want you to fuck me.”

The haste with which Namjoon moves is probably embarrassing. He practically throws himself off the bed, nearly collapsing to the floor as he tries to stand. Maybe he should have just told Yoongi where it was, or Namjoon could have stretched over him. But Namjoon’s brain shut off a little at the thought of fucking his boyfriend.

Gathering himself, Namjoon takes a few steps and reaches for the bedside table, tugging open the drawer to rummage for lube. He’s fishing out a box of condoms when Yoongi speaks again.

“You should probably take your clothes off,” Yoongi suggests. But there’s a hitch in his voice, and then a slick sound and -

Snapping his head to the side, Namjoon finds Yoongi smiling lazily at him. He’s still on his knees, but only braced on one elbow now. His other arm is stretched back, flexing as Yoongi presses a finger into his slick hole.

“Oh fuck,” Namjoon whispers. Or maybe it’s only in his head. He can’t entirely confirm he speaks, his entire brain filled with static at the sight of his boyfriend fingering himself. Namjoon doesn’t know where to look, at Yoongi’s lazy smile, the flutter of his lashes, or the curve of his ass, where Namjoon can almost see what he’s doing.

“Joon-ah,” Yoongi prompts, pulling Namjoon’s eyes back to his face. “Clothes.”

Namjoon rushes to obey, tugging his shirt over his head before reaching for the fastenings of his jeans. He shoves them and his boxers down together as he grabs the condoms and lube from the drawer. By the time he’s climbing back onto the bed behind Yoongi, he’s shaking his foot from the confines of his jeans, letting them fall to the floor in a messy pile.

“Oh fuck,” Namjoon says, definitely out loud this time. Because now he can see. He can see Yoongi’s long finger pressing into his hole, swallowed up by his stretched pink rim.

“Namjoon-ah,” Yoongi whines, “are you going to make hyung do it himself?”

Namjoon shakes his head so hard his brain rattles inside his skull. “No, hyung,” he says, popping open the cap on the lube and slicking up his fingers. His cock throbs between his legs as he watches Yoongi’s finger slowly withdraw. 

There’s a roaring in Namjoon ears and he’s not sure when the last time he blinked was. He doesn’t want to close his eyes, doesn’t want to miss any of this. Not as Yoongi’s finger finally slips free, and Namjoon replaces it with his own.

Hot and wet and tight. They both confessed it had been a while since their previous partners. No details, just a while. Namjoon masturbated in the time between his last hookup and meeting Yoongi, obviously he did. He’s got seemingly unlimited hot water in the shower, excellent grip strength, and maybe a hidden box of toys beneath his bed.

If Namjoon has used the toys or his hands a little more since meeting Yoongi, well, he just has a lot of images in his mind about pale thighs and pink nipples. He’s sure Yoongi is the same, sure he jerks off, plays with himself. The way Yoongi sunk a finger into himself, casual and easy, let Namjoon know he’s no stranger to this.

But he’s still so tight. Clenching around Namjoon’s finger for a moment before he relaxes. Namjoon strokes along his walls, wiggling his finger to loosen Yoongi up. He’s reasonably relaxed from Namjoon’s mouth on him, and Namjoon isn’t surprised when Yoongi asks for more after a handful of seconds.

Yoongi groans when Namjoon slides two fingers into him, head falling forward between his arms. He’s braced on his elbows again, hands fisted loosely in the sheets. The soft sound of his panting mixes with the squelch of lube as Namjoon presses his fingers deeper, scissors them and begins to pump them slowly in and out.

With his forehead nearly pressed to the bed, Yoongi arches his back further. It gives Namjoon an even better angle, a better view, as Yoongi ruts his hips back, clearly not pleased with the slow pace Namjoon is setting.

“Be patient,” Namjoon murmurs, dipping down to brush his lips over the small of Yoongi’s back.

“I don’t want to,” Yoongi pants, spreading his thighs further. “Want you in me now.”

Fuck. Namjoon wants that too.

“I’ve wanted it for so long,” Yoongi babbles. “Wanted you. Since I saw you at the fucking show.”

Namjoon’s cock aches between his legs, dripping precum onto the sheets. The fact that Yoongi liked him from the start, was maybe just as taken as Namjoon - that he felt something too. Namjoon knew that, or figured as much, but to hear Yoongi say it means a lot more.

“Yeah?” Namjoon breathes, nosing along the pinkened skin of Yoongi’s ass cheek as he twists his fingers, angling them slightly. “Even when I elbowed you in the nose?”

“Maybe I just thought you were into some kinky - oh fuck!” Yoongi’s teasing cuts off as the pads of Namjoon’s fingers press into his prostate. He trails off into another groan, legs trembling as Namjoon massages over the bundle of nerves.

The sight of his fingers disappearing into Yoongi’s hole has Namjoon feeling half mad. Yoongi’s rim is slick, so pink and shiny where it stretches around the intrusion. His cock practically pours precum as he imagines how good it’ll feel to actually be inside Yoongi. If he feels so good like this, all velvet soft heat, how good will he feel wrapped around Namjoon’s cock?

Namjoon can’t help himself when he leans in again, tongue joining his fingers to lap at Yoongi’s hole. Yoongi keens, arching and pressing his ass against Namjoon’s face, hole clenching before he relaxes again. With Yoongi loosened up, it’s easier for Namjoon to slide his tongue in alongside his fingers, thrusting all of them together as he stretches Yoongi open. He makes sure to angle his fingers, brushing Yoongi’s prostate on every stroke just to hear the choked moans he lets out.

Pulling back to breathe, Namjoon replaces his tongue with a third finger. He’s pleased to see that Yoongi looks like a mess already. A beautiful one, skin flushed a rosy pink, cock leaking onto the sheets below him. His cock hangs between his legs, hard and heavy, twitching with every thrust of Namjoon’s fingers.

“Could you come like this?” Namjoon asks, eyes fixed on the way another pearl of translucent fluid leaks from Yoongi’s tip. “Just from this?”

“Maybe, probably,” Yoongi croaks, lifting his head slightly. A whine bubbles past his lips and he throws his head back fingers squeezing the sheets. “If you don’t stop soon, we’re gonna find out.”

Namjoon gulps at the image of Yoongi coming undone from just his fingers, writhing on the bed as Namjoon takes him apart. Gorgeous, beautiful. But Namjoon would rather see it happen on his cock.

“Okay,” he breathes. “Lemme just…” he trails off, not sure why he was ready to give Yoongi a play by play.

Yoongi whines when Namjoon pulls his fingers free, clenching around nothing. His hole is so pink, rim so flushed and puffy around the edges from the attention. Namjoon nearly fumbles the condom, hands slipping as he tries to tear it open, because he’s having a hard time looking away.

Forcing himself to focus, Namjoon tears open the condom, pulling it out of the foil packet. He rolls it down himself, hissing at the sudden friction. His hips jerk, cock twitching. At this point, Namjoon is so hard it almost hurts, and the tiny bit of relief makes him want to cry. Patting the sheets, Namjoon grabs the dropped bottle of lube and squeezing some into his hand, slicking up his cock.

“Come on, baby,” Yoongi encourages, pushing himself back up onto his hands. He seems a little steadier now, despite how debauched he looks when he peers at Namjoon over his shoulder. Kiss bitten lips and flushed cheeks. Hooded, lust-filled eyes, the very definition of bedroom eyes, drawing Namjoon in.

Pushing himself onto his knees, Namjoon settles himself on the bed behind his boyfriend. Yoongi spreads his thighs again, making room for Namjoon to crowd against him, rub his cock in the cleft of his ass. Namjoon groans at the feeling, slick from saliva and lube, so warm. His entire body feels hot and Namjoon knows if he keeps doing this, he’ll absolutely come.

Bringing one hand to Yoongi’s hip to hold him steady, Namjoon grips the base of his cock with his other hand and lines himself up. Positioning himself at Yoongi’s entrance, Namjoon slides his cockhead over Yoongi’s puffy rim. The tip catches on his hole, slipping through the mess of lube, and Namjoon hears Yoongi’s breath hitch. He does it once, twice more, teasing himself as much as Yoongi, before he takes a deep breath and presses in.

Namjoon was absolutely not prepared. Not prepared for the way Yoongi’s body sucks him in, for the way the tight heat of his hole clings and drags. A million times more overwhelming than Namjoon imagined, so much better than how it felt around his fingers. Yoongi groans, low and long, fingers scrambling in the sheets as Namjoon presses in, not stopping until he’s full sheathed.

He has to stop then, has to take a moment to breathe. It’s all overwhelming, all feels so fucking good, that Namjoon thinks he might come on the spot. Or more than that, astral project right out of his body. As rapturous experience, being buried to the hilt in Yoongi’s body, Yoongi’s pink rim stretched around Namjoon’s twitching cock.

“Joon-ah,” Yoongi moans. The sound of his name from Yoongi’s lips has Namjoon biting the inside of his cheek hard. “Joon-ah,” he repeats, “feels good, baby.” Yoongi clenches around him, arches his back and moans. “Fuck. Feel good, baby? Do you feel good?”

“So good,” Namjoon chokes out. Both his hands are on Yoongi’s hips now and he’d be lying if he said it was to keep Yoongi in place or hold him up. Namjoon is absolutely using it to ground himself, to keep a grip on reality and the mortal plane. Without his fingers digging bruising prints into Yoongi’s waist, Namjoon is sure he’d spin right off the planet into the sun. And he’d probably like it.

It’s not his fault, not entirely. He blames Yoongi for this. Yoongi in Namjoon’s old band t-shirt, looking so fucking amazing. As they’ve moved, the shirt has slipped off one of Yoongi’s shoulders, exposing pale skin. And it’s pushed the shirt down more, the hem draping over lower. Namjoon love the way he has to use his thumbs to push the hem up to free the swell of Yoongi’s ass. But it’s all so much.

“You feel so good,” he continues, words hitched. “So tight, so good. Hyung, you’re so - you -” he breaks off, gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes closed. “Fuck, you make me feel crazy.”

“S’okay, baby,” Yoongi slurs. He giggles a little, but it’s breathy, affected. “I know. I’m ready if you - do you wanna move?”

So badly.

Instead of answering, Namjoon adjusts his grip on Yoongi’s hips, pushing the shirt out of the way again. Planting his knees more firmly on the bed, Namjoon tightens his core and pulls back. His cock slides slowly out of Yoongi’s hole, dragging along all that tight, velvet softness. Yoongi seems to cling to him, as if not wanting to let Namjoon go, trying to keep him in. And when he pushes back in, Yoongi’s body welcomes him like it was made for him.

Namjoon loses himself a little, setting a rhythm as he pushes and pulls, watching his cock disappear past Yoongi’s stretched rim. It’s loud in the room, Namjoon panting loudly, grunting with every thrust as Yoongi moans, low and deep and gorgeous. The sound of skin slapping and the squelch of lube add to it, the squeaking of Namjoon’s bed bringing it all together. A crescendo, building like the heat low in Namjoon’s belly.

Shifting a little, Namjoon angles his thrusts, earning a ragged moan from his boyfriend. Yoongi collapses forward onto his elbows, groaning into the sheets as he buries his face against the blankets. His fingers curl in the fabric, hole clenching around Namjoon as Namjoon thrusts into him, hitting Yoongi’s prostate to feel the way his body jerks.

They’re both beginning to tremble, pleasure and exertion swirling through them, leaving Namjoon breathless as his hips kick and jerk. He’s chasing release, trying to hold on to give them both pleasure, to make this last as long as he can. It’s not the last time, he knows that, but he doesn’t want this to end.

“Namjoon,” Yoongi moans, voice a choked gasp, and Namjoon nearly plummets over the edge.

But he needs more, wants more. Wants Yoongi closer, wants him in his arms, wants to kiss him.

With a grunt, Namjoon sits back on his heels, dragging an unresisting Yoongi with him. Yoongi gasps as he’s pulled upright, Namjoon’s cock shifting inside him until he’s settled on his knees, pressed flush to Namjoon’s chest. Wrapping an arm around Yoongi’s chest, Namjoon holds him there, dragging Yoongi closer until his boyfriend is nearly balanced on Namjoon’s thighs.

Burying his face in Yoongi’s neck, Namjoon thrusts, burying himself to the hilt again in Yoongi’s tight warmth. Yoongi groans, hands coming up to grip Namjoon’s forearm, fingers digging into his skin. His head falls back, thunking against Namjoon’s shoulder as Namjoon works his hips. Namjoon’s other arm wraps around Yoongi’s waist, holding him still and pliant as Namjoon fucks up into him.

With every thrust, Namjoon is sure he’s getting even deeper. If he peeled away the t-shirt and looked down the line of Yoongi’s body, he wonders if he could see his cock there. The bulge of him in Yoongi’s belly, pressing into his trembling body with every kick of his hips. Namjoon groans at the idea, teeth nipping at Yoongi’s neck, heat flooding through his veins.

A hand peels away from Namjoon’s forearm and Namjoon watches, eyes drifting lower, as Yoongi brings it to his own cock. Fisting his cock, Yoongi groans, hole clenching tight around Namjoon’s cock as he begins to stroke himself. Yoongi turns his head to the side and Namjoon lifts his own from Yoongi’s shoulder to meet him in a kiss. It’s messy, barely coordinated. A clumsy press of lips and tangle of tongues.

Pleasure roars through Namjoon like a tornado, static in his head, fire low in his belly. They’re barely even kissing now, gasping into one another’s mouths as Namjoon loses all rhythm, jackhammering into Yoongi’s body to chase the high he can feel so close. Yoongi is panting against his lips, his hand working over his cock in sync with Namjoon’s thrusts, the tight clench of his hole becoming almost too much. Namjoon feels like they’re firmly connected, inseparable, fused together in this moment.

When Yoongi tenses, gasping out what might be a ragged Namjoon and tumbles over the edge, Namjoon is right there with him. A wave crashes over him, a rush of bliss and euphoria that steals the breath from Namjoon’s lungs. As their shared orgasm rushes through them, Namjoon is pretty sure he does astral project, hurtling straight for the sun.

It takes a little while for Namjoon to come back to himself, for the rush of pleasure to fade enough for him to be able to move. They’re still on the bed, Yoongi slumped in his arms, breathing heavily against Namjoon’s lips. Slowly, Namjoon pulls out, both of them hissing with oversensitivity, and cradles Yoongi against him as he flops onto his side.

“I can’t feel my legs,” Yoongi rasps.

Namjoon grins, nuzzling into Yoongi’s shoulder, bare from the shirt slipping down his arm. “I’m pretty great, right?”

Yoongi laughs, a wheezy sound that shakes his body and has him curling up closer against Namjoon. He rolls in Namjoon’s arms to face him, all flushed cheeks and soft smiles. “Yeah,” Yoongi agrees, eyes creasing as his smile grows, “you’re really something.”

As their lips meet in another kiss, soft and sweet, Namjoon feels a wave of contentment wash over him. Yoongi is here, in his bed and in his arms, and it’s clear he’s not going anywhere.

---

A while later, when Yoongi thinks his legs can finally support him, they make their way to the bathroom. It’s a little uncoordinated, wobbling and giggling together, arms slung around other another’s waists. Namjoon would rather keep Yoongi tucked into bed, but they could both use a shower. They’re sticky and sweaty from sex and the concert earlier in the night, and Namjoon’s shower is thankfully big enough for two.

They lean together beneath the warm spray, kissing lazily until their lips are tingly and sore. Namjoon runs his palms up and down Yoongi’s back beneath the warm water, reveling in the smoothness of his skin. It still doesn’t feel entirely real, that he can look and touch as much as he wants. Yoongi is his and Namjoon still finds that a little hard to believe some days.

It’s easier though, when Yoongi is smiling up at him. Peering at Namjoon from beneath wet lashes, orange bangs plastered to his forehead. Cheeks flushed from the shower and lips spread in a sweet smile. Moment like this, when it seems like Yoongi has eyes just for Namjoon, make it a little less hard to believe.

And when Yoongi turns Namjoon around, with soft words and gentle hands, to massage shampoo into his hair, Namjoon thinks he might burst. The butterflies in his belly are doing barrel rolls and Namjoon is blissfully warm. Yoongi presses a kiss to his shoulder before stepping back, directing Namjoon beneath the water to rinse his hair. The warm water seems endless, allowing them to melt into another kiss, arms around one another’s waists, once they’re scrubbed clean.

They don’t leave the shower until their fingers are pruning, finally turning off the water and stepping out. They dry off quickly before hurrying back to Namjoon’s bedroom, naked and laughing. Namjoon is very thankfully that Jimin is not home to see them.

After stripping the blanket from Namjoon’s bed, Namjoon throws on a new duvet and tugs Yoongi into bed with him. They fall onto the mattress together, burrowing under the covers. Hair still damp and skin still flushed from the shower, they cuddle together, bare skin pressing beneath the blankets.

“Did you have tonight?” Yoongi asks, smiling at Namjoon in the dimness of the room.

A silly question, really. But Namjoon thinks there’s some vulnerability there, that Yoongi doesn’t just mean the concert or hanging out. “It was perfect,” Namjoon murmurs, hoping Yoongi can hear the truth in his voice.

Yoongi smiles, his palm sliding up to cup Namjoon’s cheek. “Good,” he whispers, and pulls Namjoon into another soft kiss. 

---

Namjoon wakes to something tickling his face. He scrunches his nose, squeezing his eyes closed as he sniffs, trying to get rid of the sensation. But when he sniffs, the scent of mint and citrus invades his senses. He becomes aware then, as wakefulness seeps back into him, that he is not alone.

Slowly blinking open his eyes, Namjoon takes in the tousled mess of orange hair in front of him, the shell of an ear and curve of a cheek, the pale softness of a shoulder. Yoongi.

Yoongi is here, in Namjoon’s bed, cuddled against his chest in the cradle of his arms. Namjoon shifts a little, wrapping his arms more tightly around his sleeping boyfriend. He slides a palm along warm, bare skin, fingertips trailing over Yoongi’s belly. 

A soft hum leaves Yoongi’s lips and he arches a little, curling further into Namjoon’s embrace. “Morning,” Yoongi murmurs, voice so low and deep it nearly makes Namjoon shiver.

“Morning, hyung,” Namjoon whispers back, ducking in to press a kiss to the curve of Yoongi’s bare shoulder.

Another soft hum and then Yoongi is shifting, wiggling beneath the blankets to stretch and then flipping over, rolling to face Namjoon. His eyes open and Yoongi peers at him sleepily, lips curled in a soft smile. “Were you watching me sleep?” he teases.

“No,” Namjoon says, wrapping an arm around Yoongi’s waist to pull him close. “You were snoring.”

“That,” Yoongi says, shuffling closer to tangle their legs together, “is a lie.”

Their lips meet in a soft kiss. Chaste, unhurried. A slow meeting in the early hours of the morning after a night spent making love, a night spent together. There’s no heat or hunger behind it, no intention of it leading anywhere else. Just the gentle pressure of lips for the sake of kissing, for the want of being close.

Yoongi pulls back slowly, palm cupping Namjoon’s cheek as he pecks his lips once more. “I have to go,” he says reluctantly. “I have work this morning.”

“So early?” Namjoon asks.

Frowning, Yoongi nods. “I have to open the shop,” he says, looking just as disappointed as Namjoon feels. “I’m sorry, babe. I wish I didn’t have to.”

“It’s okay,” Namjoon replies. “Can I make you coffee?”

Yoongi smiles, pressing another kiss to his lips. “You are amazing.”

While Yoongi gets dressed, Namjoon leans against the kitchen counter and brews coffee into a travel mug. He’s just capping it when Yoongi emerges, dressed and with his hair mostly tamed. He accepts the mug Namjoon hands him with a smile.

“Thanks, Joon-ah.”

“Of course,” Namjoon says, leading him to the door. “Have a good day.” He’s very aware of how domestic this feels. Is this what it’s like when couples live together?

Maybe he’d like to find that out.

Someday.

“Thanks, babe.” Yoongi lifts on his toes, kissing him once more, longer this time, lingering, before he pulls back. “I’ll text you.”

The door closes and Namjoon slumps, sighing as he’s left alone. He was hoping for a lazy day in bed, maybe with some more of what they did the night before. But it can’t be helped. And he’ll see Yoongi again soon, hopefully he won’t have to wait very long.

Straightening up, Namjoon makes his way back to his bedroom, intent on changing his sheets. As he steps through the door, he freezes, eyes falling on his desk. Yoongi’s sweatshirt is there, still thrown casually across the surface.

“Not again,” Namjoon mumbles to himself as he grabs his phone, typing out a message.

[Kim Namjoon]

Hyung, you left your hoodie

The reply is nearly instantaneous.

[Min Yoongi]

I know, baby

I’ll come back and get it tonight

Namjoon sinks onto the edge of his bed, lips curling into a smile as he stares at the line of heart emojis that come through with the message. Clearly he won’t have to wait long to see him at all.

Notes:

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