Chapter Text
“Are you twins?” people would always ask, though the answer was above and beyond obvious. Their smiles, their laughs, their posture, their clothes, almost always standing side by side - they would laugh and say yes, of course, how on earth could you tell?
“You’re identical?” would usually be next. They would smile and nod, offering another of course we are, because they might not have been at first, not really, but they were in all the ways that mattered.
“And you have the same name?” would either be asked in wonder or skepticism or derision, but it was always asked. It made them laugh every time, a bright, genuine thing that had them grabbing at each others’ arms to keep from falling off barstools or knocking into passersby.
Jungkook would laugh and grin and sling an arm around his brother’s shoulders, and Jungkook would giggle and bump their heads together and say yeah, we do, isn’t it great? Because it was great, and it was their name, and no one in the world could tell them otherwise.
They would flirt with the strangers that came up to them and drink the free drinks that were the true impetus of it all, and they would go home alone.
Or, well. Not alone, obviously. They had each other.
And Jungkook, still tasting like the maraschino cherries he’d puppy-eyed the bartender for, would push Jungkook against the door as soon as it closed behind them, cupping his brother’s cheek and licking into his mouth messily, hungrily, both of them letting out matching, needy whines as they pressed up against each other as much as they could.
Sometimes, when they were like that, in those moments, it felt like if they got just close enough, they would really become one. They wouldn’t want to be one if they could be, though. They liked being two. They liked being mirrors, bookends, a matching pair. But, since it wasn’t possible, it was thrilling to try.
Jungkook would take Jungkook to their shared bed, both of them careful to not disturb their carefully-arrayed plushies and pillows, both of them tossing their clothes into the laundry basked because tripping over things first thing in the morning sent them into a spiral that lasted the whole day.
Jungkook would swallow down Jungkook’s cock, or Jungkook would dive into Jungkook’s pussy, and it would be, as it always was, the electrifying experience of two people who knew each others’ bodies exactly as well as their own.
“What will you do when one of you meets someone?” people would ask. It was a genuine question, considering their codependency in most things, and it was one that they had given genuine thought and had a genuine answer.
“They’ll have to be really cool with a lot of things,” Jungkook would say. The person who asked would always think this hypothetical partner would have to put up with a constant third wheel, with cuddling and shared meals and very rare dates. Thankfully, they never suspected what things they would truly have to be really cool with.
Of course they would have to be, this mysterious and unlikely future partner. Jungkook and Jungkook would never separate, never live apart - hell, they wouldn’t even sleep in different beds. But they also wouldn’t give up each other. They loved each other, mind, body, and soul; devotion ran hot through their veins and dedication was carved deep in their bones. It went beyond any sort of love they had ever seen, heard about, read about - and it was not a love that they would let go of even if the love would allow them to.
“But we wouldn’t date anyone if they weren’t really cool, anyways,” Jungkook would add with a grin.
The person who asked would accept their answer every time, taking their whole thing as a silly little socially-acceptable quirk and not seeing what it really was.
It was a question they were asked often, and sometimes, maybe one in ten, it would hit a little too hard. They would laugh and answer as they always did, but fears would surface as soon as no one was around to see them.
“What if you meet someone?” Jungkook would ask, eyes starry with tears, gripping the lapels of his brother’s jacket.
“If I meet someone,” Jungkook would answer sternly, holding his brothers face between his hands, meeting his watery eyes with a fire in his own that was the only thing that could dry his tears, “we meet someone. I’ve never done anything without you in my life, I’m not gonna start just ‘cause some stupid boy tries to get in my pants.”
“They’re really nice pants,” Jungkook would say with a sniffle, reaching around to put his hands in the back pockets.
“They’re yours,” his brother would say, and Jungkook would laugh, and all would be well again.
-
One time, they did meet someone.
He was hot and confident and cocky and possessive and kissed them both and didn’t call them gross when they kissed each other.
He bought them dinner and walked them home and didn’t push himself into their bed, so of course they tugged him into it instead. He was so good with them both, a generous lover who cleaned them up after and made sure they drank enough water, and they thought they had found a missing piece.
An additional piece. The two of them - there was nothing missing.
But then he told Jungkook he was a good girl while he was fingerbanging his pussy, and his brother saw red. He shoved him out the door with nothing but his ugly boxers on and threw the rest of his clothes off the balcony to the street below.
He curled up around Jungkook for the rest of the night, both of them silent and tearless, hardening with a mutual resolve to never, never, settle for anything like that again.
They had been each others’ closest and only companion for years and years and years. They didn’t need stupid romance or stupid prejudice or stupid boys. They had friends, they had work, they had fun, they had each other. They were Jungkook and Jungkook. They were complete. They didn’t need anything or anyone.
But.
-
“This is Namjoon,” Jungkook said.
He had some handsome stranger in tow - not a stranger, really. Jungkook had been telling him all about his new coworker for the past two weeks, and Jungkook made fun of his brother’s silly crush and pinched his cheek hard whenever he started on about his dimples, telling him good-naturedly that he would give him a dimple if he didn’t shut up.
Jungkook had told him he’d try to bring him by the coffeeshop Jungkook worked at sometime soon, because he’s so much hotter in person, Kookie, oh my god, and Jungkook was a little pissed he was right.
“it’s nice to meet you, Jungkook-ssi,” Namjoon smiled, and his dimple popped, and he was so much hotter in person. “Jungkook-ah’s told me a lot about you.”
Jungkook could tease. He could say that his brother had told him every single Namjoon-fact he knew, including everything on his linkedin profile. He could be a little flirtatious, see what Namjoon did with that. He could be normal. Instead—
“I—” he felt the color drain from his face and he stumbled back, reaching for Jin to stable himself and to get his attention. “Sorry, sorry, I’m—I don’t feel great, sorry, can I—”
Jin’s eyes went wide as he steadied him. “Oh, Jungkookie—go lie down, hyung will bring you some tea—”
Jungkook shook his head and half-charged through the cafe to Jin’s office, curling up on the comfy sofa and burying his face in his arms. He didn’t startle when the door snicked open, didn’t respond when fingers carded through his hair.
“It’s you and me,” his brother soothed quietly, sitting crosslegged on the floor and resting his head against Jungkook’s. “It’s always you and me.”
-
They took a bath together that night, filling the tub with almost-too-hot water and almost-too-indulgent bath bombs, lighting their favorite candles and turning on music that verged on white noise. They both needed a sensory lockdown - though, of course, one more than most.
The third time Jungkook caught his brother looking at him over his phone, he huffed and kicked lightly at him, making water slosh over his chest. “Say it.”
He regretted it almost immediately when Jungkook took his phone and put both of them off to the side, leaving him without anything to hide behind and pretend he didn’t care. Jungkook scooted forward until he could take his face between his hands, stroking his cheekbones with his thumbs soothingly, lovingly.
“He’s good.”
“Who?” he asked, just to be petulant.
Jungkook didn’t take the bait. “Namjoon-hyung. I have a really good feeling about him.”
(Honestly, honestly, if their positions had been reversed, it might have been different. But he wasn’t the one who had been called good girl, he wasn’t the one who felt violated and betrayed. He felt it for him, when it happened, violated and betrayed on his behalf, but - it was different. They were the same, they were identical, they shared everything in the world, but Jungkook knew that was something he couldn’t share, not fully.
But if his brother was the one with the good feelings, the one who could see a sliver of a possible future - he had a good read on people like that. He’d learned to. Jungkook, at the root of it all, trusted his brother with everything in him. And they were enough for each other, they were, but - there was something about the idea of other, an other who would love them and accept them and see their good and have it outweigh their bad.)
Jungkook sighed, holding his brother’s waist and leaning into his touch. “What did he say?”
“After you left?” Jungkook nodded. “He said I should check on him and asked Jin-hyung what drink you liked and if he could buy you one. Hyung laughed at him cause you work there and get them for free. And then Namjoonie-hyung paid for one anyway.”
Jungkook had sipped on the iced tea Jin had brought him until he felt like he could face the world again. To know it came from Namjoon made his heart twist, though he wasn’t sure what the feeling really was.
“That’s stupid,” he muttered. Jungkook snorted and let him go, tugging his hair when Jungkook whined.
“It is," he agreed, “but it’s also really sweet, right?”
Jungkook frowned and shrugged. “I guess.”
Jungkook tugged his hair again. “Wanna, you know. Think about it a little?”
He couldn’t deny the immediate appeal. Namjoon was very - mm. No matter how skeptical he was of him. “Aren’t you worried you’ll be weird when you see him next?”
Jungkook shrugged. “I already spend half the time I’m looking at him wanting to ride his face, so—”
Jungkook giggled a little before breathing in deeply, glancing away, a blush painting his cheeks. “I mean. He is really hot.”
Jungkook grinned and tugged his hair one more time. “Turn around, let hyung talk—”
“You’re not my hyung, brat!” he groaned, even as he turned obligingly, snuggling back against him, his back to Jungkook’s chest. He was soft when Jungkook cupped his cock, but he didn’t stay that way for long.
His brother whispered fantasies into his ear, fantasies they had shared before, many, many times, but now they could attach a face to it, a body, muscles that could hold them down or hold them close.
Jungkook reached down to fondle his balls and press teasingly at his hole as he talked about Namjoon pretending he was his first, that he was gonna put just the tip in, that he would fuck into him while Jungkook cried and begged and kissed his brother to stifle his whimpers. He talked about Namjoon ordering him just how to eat him out, just how to fuck his pussy, just how to hold him down for Namjoon to fuck his cum back into him after. He talked about Namjoon spanking them both red, leaving them hard and wet and untouched for as long as he liked, locking Jungkook’s cock in a cage and slapping Jungkook’s pussy until it hurt to touch the next day.
(He talked about Namjoon kissing them lazily the next morning, rubbing lotion on their sore asses and massaging their aches, praising him for a well-made breakfast and letting Jungkook dress him and meeting them for lunch later in the day and texting them just to say he missed them, even though one of them worked in the same office, because it was different when they weren’t both together.)
Jungkook came with a wordless yell, arching into his brother’s touch, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.
“Cum bath,” he muttered as he came back into his body, making Jungkook shove him away with an affronted yell. “Want me to do you?”
“Nah, I want to when we get in bed. Want you to hold me though.”
Jungkook nodded, yawning. “Can I clean you up after?”
“If you don’t fall asleep,” Jungkook grinned, getting out of the bath and helping him out after. “Hey, Kook-ah—”
“Mm?”
“If you really don’t want it, I’ll stop flirting with him and I won’t try to bring him around anymore. You matter more to me than anyone in the world. I would like to give him a chance, I’m not gonna lie, and I really do think you’d like him, but I never ever want you to feel like you’re not enough for me.”
“I know,” Jungkook said, hugging him close, kissing his bare shoulder. He was quiet for a long moment before sighing, pulling back to look at him. “If you really think he’s good—I’ll give him a chance. But—but if he just wants you—” his voice wavered, tears stinging his eyes all at once. He squeezed them shut before they could fall.
He wasn’t even sure what he was going to say, not really. The thought of Namjoon just wanting his brother, taking his brother away from him—it was truly too much to bear. But the thought of forcing his brother to be his and only his forever, locking him into a life he didn’t want, taking away what could be a perfect partnership just because Namjoon didn’t want two fucking weirdos in his bed, a set of taboo twins who were so reliant on each other they could barely breathe without the other—
“Breathe,” Jungkook said, moving Jungkook’s hand to his chest so he could feel the in-and-out up-and-down of his lungs. “Breathe, Kook-ah. If he wants just me, then he won’t have me at all. It’s you and me. Before anyone else, over anyone else. No matter how pretty his tits are.”
Jungkook let out a watery laugh. “I d-don’t want to k-keep—”
“Shut up,” his brother said, rude words sounding warm and kind in the way that only siblings could truly manage to do. “You and me. You’re my soulmate, Jungkook-ah, and if he, or anyone, wants only half of my soul—fuck them. Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Jungkook sniffled, nodding. “Fuck them.”
Jungkook wiped his tears away, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, then his nose and cheeks and forehead and lips again. “Come on. Hyung will be the big spoon.”
Jungkook shoved him away, tears finally chased away, heart reassured, soul whole and stable once more. “You’re not my hyung, stop—”
“Hyung’s favorite baby boy,” his brother cooed, leading him to bed and tucking him under the covers. “Hyung’s sweet little dongsaeng, hyung’s pretty candy star—”
Jungkook whined as he always did, though they both knew he loved it. Sometimes he was the hyung, when his brother needed to know he was part of a whole, wanted and needed and loved beyond belief. Doubts were nothing new to them, impossible to escape but just as impossible to not soothe.
You and me, they always said when it was their turn to put doubts to rest. And if Namjoon turned out to be the asshole Jungkook feared he would be, he would, as always, say you and me.