Chapter Text
Yoongi was not a morning person.
He groaned as he rolled over, burrowing further under the soft comforter to shield his eyes from the harsh light filtering through the blinds. He grumbled and snuggled against the warmth pressed against him, wrapped around him. He always got cold in the winter. Technically it was already well into March, but the harsh chill left behind by the colder months was still hanging in the air.
He sighed contently as the warmth hugged him tighter and it took him a few minutes for his regular morning brain to boot-up so he could realize that the warmth wrapped around him was in fact a pair of arms. It took him another minute to realize that Jimin’s arms had never been that long, and an even longer, more embarrassing minute to remember that Jimin wouldn’t even be holding him like this. Not anymore.
Yoongi pulled back as much as he could with the strong arms keeping him trapped, the comforter falling to his shoulders as he blinked bleary eyes up at the stranger who was holding him hostage.
He realized two things very quickly. One; he was very hungover. His head throbbed painfully as the light hit his eyes properly and what little movement he had to do to get a good look at the person next to him had his head spinning and his stomach turning. Two; he was lying in a bed that was not his, in only his underwear (and socks for some reason), with the new kid who had moved in a week ago who was also only wearing his underwear (but no socks, because he apparently was sensible).
“Shit,” he breathed, throat raw and hoarse. He rubbed his hands over his face, peeking between his fingers at the boy beside him. He had hickeys on his neck. Yoongi groaned and touched a couple tender spots on his own neck. He had hickeys. “Shit.”
Yoongi’s eyes widened when the kid stirred (Yoongi was about 85% sure his name was Jungkook). He scrambled to get back under the covers, burying his face against Jungkook’s chest to hide his steadily rising blush. There was no way he was getting out of this bed without getting caught and he would much rather pretend to be asleep than have to deal with the awkward morning-after talk.
There was a low rumble as Jungkook groaned. His arm shifted and Yoongi guessed he was probably rubbing his eyes.
“Hyung?” came a soft question, voice low and rough from sleep and alcohol. Yoongi flushed all the way up to his ears. He was trying very hard to ignore how broad and firm Jungkook’s chest was or how good his thick arms felt wrapped around Yoongi’s smaller frame.
He had lost weight since the break-up. He had lost motivation to do most things, including eating. Yoongi knew he had no right to be so upset. Jimin had been nice about it, even though Yoongi had been a terrible boyfriend toward the end.
(Neglecting him and getting into arguments constantly. Yoongi’s mental health had always been a problem, but his anxiety had skyrocketed last semester and he had spent the last month before the school year ended treating Jimin like shit, just because he was there and trying to help like the literal angel he was. Yoongi had done this to himself, he knew that, but it still made his insides twist and his eyes burn when he thought about Jimin.)
Jimin had probably started to fall out of love with Yoongi months before the break-up. He had probably had feelings for Hoseok for a while before he broke it off, but Yoongi still felt like it had come suddenly, like there was no warning.
There had been plenty of warning. Yoongi had chosen to ignore it.
There was a pause as Jungkook waited for a response and Yoongi waited for him to take the hint and go back to sleep.
“Hyung,” Jungkook said again, clearer this time. “You are either awake or you are dead because you’re not breathing.”
Yoongi swore softly, taking a shaky breath and releasing it pointedly against Jungkook’s chest. He lifted his head just enough to stare at Jungkook through his bangs.
“I’m dead,” he said flatly, really not wanting to deal with this right now.
His ass didn’t hurt, that was a good sign. He wasn’t sticky, except for the fact that he was sweating and his hands smelt vaguely of cherry vodka, which was also a good sign.
The more he thought about it, the more it became more likely that they had in fact, not had sex. That didn’t make it any less embarrassing. In fact, it actually made it worse. He was half naked in bed with a boy he had practically never actually met who he hadn’t fucked. They had just… cuddled.
Yoongi scowled and sighed, rolling over and out of Jungkook’s hold. He kicked the blankets down so they settled at his waist.
“What a way to meet your housemate, huh?”
Jungkook snorted and rolled his eyes. Yoongi smirked a little and closed his eyes, the pounding in his head getting to a point that he really didn’t want to deal with.
“You gonna be weird?” Yoongi asked, poking at the hickeys on his throat.
He could feel Jungkook staring at him. “Weird how?”
Yoongi shrugged and sighed, feeling the awkward rumble in his gut of a conversation he was dreading. “Weird like weird. I don’t know, awkward and shit. I’m pretty sure you didn’t fuck me and unless I managed to convince you to let me tap that, I’m pretty sure I didn’t fuck you either. But we obviously made out and stuff, if the monsters on my neck are anything to go by.”
Yoongi cracked an eye open to watch Jungkook’s reaction. He felt a little stir of satisfaction as he watched the colour steadily rise in Jungkook’s cheeks.
“Yeah, we did that,” Jungkook muttered, rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. “So you… don’t remember last night?”
He seemed cautious, almost hopeful and Yoongi had to wonder just what the hell they had gotten up to last night.
“Not really,” he admitted, closing his eyes again. “It’s pretty blurry. I remember Jin shoving me into the bathroom and locking the door, threatening to keep me in there forever until I showered. I remembered that I found the bottle of vodka Taehyung keeps stored under the bathroom sink. It’s all a little wobbly from there.” He scowled behind his eyelids. “I’m pretty sure Jin-hyung is pissed.”
Jungkook laughed softly. “Now that’s an understatement.”
Yoongi looked at Jungkook, letting his eyes scan over his body. He was definitely hot. Like, really hot. All muscle and bone structure. His outrageously tiny waist made Yoongi want to die. Yoongi had thought Namjoon had had the best body he had ever seen. Jungkook was threatening that position.
“You must have been pretty drunk too,” Yoongi observed. “I can see why I jumped you, Mr. Fantastic, but I have no idea why you would want to tango with a limp noodle like me.”
Jungkook’s head snapped to the side, eyes slanting into a hard glare. “Really, hyung?” he snapped. Yoongi blinked in surprise, raising an eyebrow questioningly. “You are a god damn vision. I don’t regret making out with you, and I would happily do it again. I would have fucked you unconscious if you hadn’t been so drunk.”
He turned his scowl to the ceiling, which Yoongi was happy about because a hot blush started to quickly rise up his chest and neck and settle on his cheeks. Jungkook looked mad (for some reason) but he still had the decency to look embarrassed.
“Okay,” Yoongi said softly, voice barely above a whisper. Really, what the hell was he supposed to say in response to that?
Yoongi looked at the clock and groaned. He had to get up. He had his first class at noon and he really wanted to be able to have at least two cups of coffee before he had to leave.
“I’m stealing a sweater,” he said as he sat up, ignoring the way the action made his stomach roll. He climbed over Jungkook and wiggled his sock covered toes on the hardwood floor. He grabbed the first sweater he saw (a purple hoodie with the name of a high school printed across the front).
Jungkook grumbled softly as he climbed out of bed. His hair was sticking up at odd angles, but it was kind of cute so Yoongi didn’t feel the need to point it out.
Yoongi tugged the sweater over his head, not bothering to find pants as the oversized hoodie easily covered him to mid-thigh.
Yoongi lifted the collar of the sweater and hooked it over his nose, breathing in deeply. It smelled like Jungkook—that barely post pubescent boy smell that frankly should have been gross but mixed so deliciously with the old man cologne he apparently used. The two smells alone would have been a turn off, but the smell lingering on Jungkook’s hoodie made Yoongi a little dizzy.
“You smell like an old person,” Yoongi said, not mentioning the fact that he liked it very much, dropping the hoodie back to his chest.
Jungkook scoffed and tugged on a pair of jeans, buttoning them completely but not bothering to do up the belt that hadn’t been removed from the last time they had been worn. Yoongi dragged his eyes away from Jungkook’s crotch. He blamed the belt, it was an eyesore hanging open like that. Honestly. It wasn’t like it was the sexiest thing Yoongi had seen in weeks or anything.
“And you smell like a bar,” Jungkook said in retaliation. “Please brush your teeth.”
Yoongi smacked him in the stomach with one of the overhanging sleeves.
Jungkook pouted and rubbed his stomach. “You’re being weirdly okay with this,” he said, a little hesitantly. “I thought you would be a little more… freaked out. Regretful. Whatever.”
Yoongi shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll probably have a mental breakdown about it later. Right now, it’s coffee time.”
Jungkook neglected to put on a shirt as they shuffled down the stairs together. The house was pretty quiet this early. It wasn’t even 9am yet. Seokjin would be awake, Yoongi thought, but after a night of drinking, the others would be out cold until Jin physically dragged them from their beds.
Yoongi detoured to the bathroom to brush his teeth as Jungkook put a pot of coffee on. Yoongi caught himself in the bathroom mirror and grimaced. He looked wrecked. His eyes were red and bloodshot, puffy from the hangover. It looked like he had probably been crying last night, not that he remembered doing so.
Jungkook was right about him smelling like a bar. His mouth tasted like ass. He brushed his teeth twice, trying to rid himself of the vile flavour. He washed his face and dragged a comb through his hair until it was at least semi decent. He tugged the sleeves of the hoodie back down and turned to leave the bathroom, opening the door only to stop short.
He suddenly forgot how to swallow, choking as his breath hitched.
Standing outside the bathroom, hand half raised to knock, was none other than Park Jimin. Here, in front of him, looking god damn perfect, as always.
“Hyung,” Jimin said softly, lowering his hand and shuffling his feet. “You’re awake.”
Yoongi took a shuddering breath and steeled himself. He would not look weak. Jimin was happy. He had moved on. Yoongi should to. They were stuck together until summer break, so he might as well get fucking used to it.
He forced a smile. “Yup,” he clipped, weaving around Jimin and heading back toward the kitchen. His hurried footsteps slowed just before he entered the room. He could hear Seokjin in the middle of what was probably a terrifying momma bear rant. Boy, oh boy, did he not want to get in the middle of that. Especially because it was probably about him.
He turned around, deciding it was best to wait it out in the living room, when he spotted Jimin lingering a few feet away. He hadn’t entered the bathroom, which made Yoongi’s stomach twist. He had been looking for Yoongi.
Jimin stepped forward and wrung his hands. “You looked like you had fun last night,” he said, smiling gently. He was talking like he was trying not to scare Yoongi, like he was scared he would run.
Yoongi wanted to run. He wanted to hide under his bed or behind Jungkook (because the kid was tall and broad and would probably cover Yoongi’s entire body), but he was stuck in a tiny hallway with his ex on one side and an angry Seokjin on the other.
He didn’t much like his options.
“What?” he said, stupidly, once he had finally managed to clear the huge lump in his throat.
“You and Jin-hyung’s cousin. Are you… close?”
Jimin was asking if they were dating. Yoongi wanted to scream. God damn it, this was ridiculous. He was being a baby about the whole thing, and he knew it, but that didn’t stop the angry bubbling from rolling his already nauseous stomach.
“I met him yesterday,” he said flatly.
Jimin’s eyes widened and he looked genuinely concerned. Yoongi wanted to punch him.
“O-oh,” Jimin stammered, looking down at his bare feet. “I, uh… haven’t met him yet. So, his name is Jungkook?”
Yoongi glanced up from staring at Jimin’s hands, which were still wringing together. “Huh? Oh, uh, yeah… did Jin-hyung text you about it?” He cringed. This was so fucking awkward.
Jimin shook his head, peeking up at Yoongi through his lashes in a way that always managed to make Yoongi’s heart race. “It’s on the hoodie,” he said softly, pointing at the oversized sweater. Yoongi looked down at himself, as if just remembering how he was dressed. His face flamed. Here he was, standing in front of his ex-boyfriend in nothing but his underwear, socks and his rebound (almost) boy’s hoodie which apparently had his name blazed across the back.
“R-really?” he mumbled, voice hitching halfway through. “I didn’t notice. Just… threw something on. It was cold. Hadn’t had coffee yet.” He scowled down at the hoodie. “Still haven’t had coffee yet.”
Jimin chewed his lip, looking like he wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words.
Yoongi almost told him. He almost opened his damn mouth and told Jimin he hadn’t slept with Jungkook, that he didn’t need to worry, that there was no reason to be jealous.
Jimin wasn’t jealous. He probably wanted Yoongi to have slept with Jungkook. Maybe he wanted them to have been a little better acquainted first, but he wasn’t jealous. Jimin had moved on. Jimin wanted Yoongi to move on.
Yoongi needed a drink.
“I… coffee,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward the kitchen. Angry Seokjin or not, anything was better than this.
He slipped into the kitchen before Jimin could say anything. Jungkook was standing with his back to Yoongi, facing the coffee maker with his hands on the edge of the counter as Seokjin berated him from his stance beside the fridge.
Yoongi made a split-second decision, moving before Seokjin could notice him or Jimin could follow him. He was cold (he definitely regretted not putting on pants) and wanted to hide and Jungkook was big and warm.
Yoongi walked quickly into the kitchen, weaving around the island and ducking under one of Jungkook’s arms. He squeezed in between the younger man and the counter, wrapping his arms around Jungkook’s tiny waist and pressing his face into his collarbone. Jungkook made a soft noise in surprise and Seokjin seemed startled into silence because he choked off mid-sentence.
“’m cold,” Yoongi mumbled against Jungkook’s skin before he could question.
There was a moment of silence that seemed to last a million years before Jungkook’s hands moved, ever so slowly. Yoongi felt one strong arm wrap around him as the other hand moved up and brushed gently through his hair.
Yoongi may have only (really) met Jungkook this morning after waking up in his arms, but he was sad and lonely and probably in the middle of a panic attack and Jungkook was so warm and no person’s hug should be this comforting. He could have fallen asleep standing up if it weren’t for Seokjin finding his voice.
“I,” he started, taking a deep breath to steady himself, “have several concerns.”
Yoongi resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
“As you have told me many times,” Jungkook said, his hands moving from Yoongi’s body and doing something behind Yoongi’s back (making coffee, maybe? Please?). “But, hyung, I’m pretty sure you’re overreacting.”
Jungkook was very brave. Seokjin huffed and Yoongi could almost see him crossing his arms the way he did when he was grumpy. “You’re right,” Jin muttered. “I probably am. But that doesn’t mean my concerns aren’t valid. You’re barely legal, Kookie.”
“I’m 19, hyung,” Jungkook scoffed before Yoongi could have a complete heart attack. Still, that number left his head reeling.
He leaned back enough to look up at Jungkook, eyes wide. “You’re 19?” he squeaked. He thought about Jungkook’s voice, his body, the deep intelligence behind his eyes. Yoongi shook his head. The math didn’t add up. “I feel old,” he muttered, resting his head against Jungkook’s shoulder.
“Not only that,” Seokjin continued, completely ignoring both outbursts. “But Yoongi’s mental state has been horrible for over a month and I don’t think letting him cling to you is a good idea. He gets attached easily, he’s fragile.”
Yoongi squawked indignantly and glared at Seokjin.
“I’m not some fucking wallflower, hyung!” he shouted, Jungkook’s gentle hand on his back the only thing keeping him from throwing things. “I do not get attached easily! I can take care of myself!”
Seokjin looked like he wanted to argue. The little voice in the back of Yoongi’s head also wanted to argue.
You’re attached, the voice said smugly. Yoongi ignored it. Sure, Jungkook was probably a little too comforting. Maybe he shouldn’t want to never leave his arms after knowing him for a couple hours. Perhaps he should stop craving his gentle caresses more than his inhuman warmth.
Maybe he should stop wondering what it would be like to kiss him.
Obviously Yoongi had already kissed him. They had probably made out very enthusiastically from the way Seokjin was acting. But Yoongi didn’t remember. Hazy images and words weren’t the same as if he leaned up right now, capturing those soft looking lips and tasting him. Yoongi wondered what he tasted like.
Bad Yoongi, he chastised himself, hiding his face in Jungkook’s neck as his cheeks burned.
“Hyung?” Yoongi tensed at the soft voice from the doorway. He was well hidden behind Jungkook, but his arms were visible and Jimin wasn’t an idiot. “Um, Taehyung needs you.” It took Yoongi a second to realize Jimin wasn’t talking to him.
Seokjin sighed loudly, but he still managed to sound a little concerned. “Is he sick? I told him not to drink so much.” His voice dimmed slowly as he followed Jimin toward his and Taehyung’s shared room.
The silence in the kitchen was almost deafening.
“You okay?” Jungkook asked after a moment, voice light and casual as his hands went back to making coffee (Yoongi could hear the glorious sound of mugs clinking on the countertop).
Yoongi groaned and pulled back, leaning against the counter so there were a couple inches of space between them. “Fine,” he lied. “Headache, you know?”
Jungkook nodded. Yoongi could tell he didn’t believe Yoongi’s lie, but he was glad Jungkook didn’t call him out.
“Coffee?” Jungkook said instead, lifting a mug and holding it between them, the smell washing over him. Yoongi practically moaned.
“Fuck yeah.” His hands reached up and curled around the warm mug. He brought it close to his nose and inhaled, purring happily and sipping at the steaming beverage.
He stood there for a moment, whispering sweet nothings to his coffee mug, before Jungkook stepped back, stretching his arms over his head and loudly announcing he needed to take a piss.
Yoongi pouted as Jungkook turned and walked toward the bathroom. He almost (almost) reached out for him before he caught himself, swearing under his breath as he watched Jungkook’s retreating form.
Yoongi needed to get his shit together.
Yoongi had not, in fact, gotten his shit together.
It had been two weeks since the party. Two weeks since he had woken up in Jungkook’s bed. Two weeks since he had woken up with a crush on the man. Two weeks since he had forced Jungkook to make out with him in the kitchen. Two weeks since Yoongi’s life had turned upside down for the second time this year.
Bits and pieces of the night of the party had come back to him slowly throughout the following two weeks. He would wake up sometimes with embarrassing boners, images of Jungkook’s pupils blown wide with arousal and his lips pink from abuse lingering in his mind for hours afterwards. Just enough time for him to jack off in the shower and then wallow in shame until he had to drag himself out of bed to go to class or eat something.
Jungkook had obviously been trying not to be friends with Jimin or Hoseok for the first couple days, his only knowledge of them being that they hurt Yoongi. Really, he was flattered (more than flattered, but no one needed to know that), but no one could resist the charm of those two. Hoseok was a gem. He was hilarious and kind and so selfless. Jimin was an angel. Beautiful and sweet. There was no way Jungkook could get around being their friend. It had taken three days for them to completely win him over.
Yoongi wasn’t mad. (Not really. Not when he had no right to be mad whatsoever.)
He still found himself in Jungkook’s room a lot. Even though they hadn’t done anything more than cuddle since the party. He was still too awkward around Jimin and Hoseok to deal with sharing a room with one of them.
He usually just ignored Hoseok or forced himself to have short, one word sentence conversations with him, but whenever he walked into his room to find Hoseok and Jimin kissing, cuddling, talking, fucking existing in the same room, he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. He would leave, turning on his heels without a word and making his way up the short flight of stairs to the second floor. He would push his way into Jungkook’s room, whether he was there or not, and curl up in his tiny bed.
Whenever Jungkook came in to find Yoongi there he would just leave him. The first couple times he had seemed a little annoyed, but that had faded over time as this became a normal routine. Whenever Yoongi walked in to find Jungkook already there, he would gravitate towards him, interrupting whatever he was doing to climb onto his lap or curl around him. Jungkook was pretty good about leaving him alone, about just being a warm presence that Yoongi could cling to for as long as he felt he needed to. Jungkook wouldn’t make Yoongi talk, always waiting for Yoongi to start the conversation.
As much as Yoongi wanted Jungkook to be perfect, he had been fairly certain he was just mistaking pity for affection.
Now, curled up against the arm of the couch with Jungkook sprawled across the rest of it, head pillowed in Yoongi’s lap, he wasn’t so sure.
Yoongi had been reading on his phone in the living room when Jimin and Taehyung had hesitantly asked if they could watch TV. Not wanting to be an asshole, he said yes, even though he really didn’t feel up to sitting in the same room with Jimin for a couple hours. He also didn’t want to get up and leave, knowing that would also make him an asshole.
So, he stayed, peeking over the top of his phone at the screen. Taehyung and Jimin were laying on their stomachs on the floor, coffee table pushed to the side in favour of approximately every pillow in the house.
He could tell Jimin was very aware of his presence. Yoongi knew how much Jimin wanted them to be friends. And really, Yoongi wanted that too. He missed Jimin so much it hurt, but more than missing his kisses and his body and his love, Yoongi missed his company. He just wasn’t ready, not yet.
Just when he was about to give up and leave, something large and heavy plopped down on the couch beside him and took up residence in his lap.
Yoongi looked down, blinking in surprise as Jungkook shifted on the couch, eyes closed as he turned on his side and buried his face in Yoongi’s stomach. He didn’t say anything and Yoongi was pretty sure it took him about three seconds before he was out cold.
Face pinker than he was comfortable with, Yoongi tried to look unaffected. He could feel Taehyung and Jimin’s eyes on him but he ignored them, staring down at his phone again so he looked normal. This was totally normal. Jungkook and him had cuddled loads of times. They’d slept in the same bed plenty. This shouldn’t be any different.
Except it was different. Jungkook had never initiated the contact before now. He’d been willing and he’d reciprocated, but he was never the one to go to Yoongi for affection or comfort.
So, what was different?
Yoongi’s mind spun in circles as he tried to come up for a reasonable explanation for why Jungkook had decided to sleep on him.
Taehyung had probably stolen his pillow. (But then again, Jungkook could sleep anywhere, pillow or not.)
He was deliriously tired. (But then again, if he was that tired, why wouldn’t he just go to his bed? Why would he purposefully seek out Yoongi?)
“He likes you.”
It took Yoongi an embarrassingly long time to realize that wasn’t his brain trying to embarrass him to death.
“Huh?” he choked, looking up from his phone and desperately trying to not drop it on Jungkook’s face.
Jimin was smiling at him. He was smiling fondly, but as if he had a secret about Yoongi that Yoongi didn’t know. Which he supposed he did, if he had heard him correctly.
“He doesn’t like me,” Yoongi retorted, voice a hushed whisper. He was pretty sure Jungkook was asleep, but he couldn’t help but be careful. “I mean, sure, I guess we’re friends, but he doesn’t like me. You just want him to.”
He tried to keep his tone unaccusatory, but he was afraid he didn’t succeed very well. Jimin didn’t seem bothered.
“I think you like him too,” Jimin said gently. Taehyung didn’t speak, but he was nodding as if it was obvious. Yoongi wanted to fight them both.
“I do not,” Yoongi said, bristling defensively. His hand was in Jungkook’s hair, stroking absently before he even realized what he was doing. “He’s like a teddy bear. Good to hug.”
Taehyung rolled his eyes and turned back to face the TV. Jimin’s eyes lingered on Yoongi for a moment before he turned around, easily slipping back into the pace of the show.
Yoongi spent the next two hours as Jungkook slept letting his mind roll over the possibility of Jimin’s words being true.
If Yoongi was being honest with himself, which he usually wasn’t, he did like Jungkook. He liked Jungkook a little too much. He was warm and safe and Yoongi found himself laughing with him more and craving his company. He wasn’t Jimin, he would never be Jimin, but he was just as perfect in different ways.
But Jungkook had no reason to like Yoongi. He was obviously attracted to him. He obviously wanted to sleep with him, he had made that much clear, but Yoongi had spent the last two weeks practically falling all over him because he was still hung up on Jimin.
But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that maybe he wasn’t hung up on Jimin, not any more. It was Jungkook he found himself thinking about in the middle of the night. It was Jungkook’s attention he craved. It was Jungkook he got jealous over whenever the others would demand his attention.
Alarmingly quickly, without his permission, Yoongi had fallen for Jeon Jungkook.
He wasn’t in love or anything foolish like that. Not yet, anyways. But he wanted Jungkook. Jin was right. He did get attached too easily. And if Jimin wasn’t right, if Jungkook didn’t like him, then Yoongi was in for a world of hurt, very soon.
Classes started to pick up right before reading week and Yoongi had less time to spend thinking about Jungkook or panicking about his love life. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it. In fact, he thought about it more than ever, but he wasn’t allowed to let it consume him.
Jungkook also didn’t seem to be around as much. He had papers to write and essays to study for and performances to prepare. He said the house was too small and loud to concentrate so he usually didn’t come home till late.
Yoongi wouldn’t say he was impatiently waiting for him, but he always found himself sitting on Jungkook’s bed (even though Yoongi had made up with Hoseok weeks ago and he really should be sleeping in his own room now that he no longer had an excuse), staring at the door as if it had done him a serious injustice until it would open and Jungkook would climb into his waiting arms, all gentle touches and sleepy mumbles.
It had been a month and a half since Jungkook had moved in and they were already so fucking domestic even Namjoon, resident King Oblivious, had noticed.
“So, are you and Jungkook dating now, or what?” Namjoon asked through a mouthful of pizza one night as the others slept in a dogpile in the living room. It was their weekly movie night and for once everyone was available. Of course, they were all exhausted and had passed out half an hour into the movie before the pizza had even shown up.
Namjoon and Yoongi were sitting on the couch, munching happily on a pizza all to themselves. Jungkook had disentangled himself from the sleeping hamsters ten minutes previous, under the pretence of getting pizza. He had actually only managed to climb onto the couch and curl up beside Yoongi, pressed against his side with his head tucked into Yoongi’s neck before falling asleep again.
Yoongi choked on his next bite and tried to die quietly so he didn’t wake the sleeping boy—or anyone else for that matter.
“No, of course not,” Yoongi said once he could breathe again. “Where did you get that idea?” Yoongi was afraid he didn’t sound very convincing, even to himself.
Namjoon sent him a sceptical look. “Dude, when he had to choose between pizza, a gift crafted by actual gods, and snuggling you, he chose you. And like, no offence, but no one in their right mind would choose anyone over pizza.”
Yoongi wasn’t offended. Namjoon was right about the pizza thing.
“So he’s a crazy person, so what?”
Namjoon rolled his eyes and took another bite of pizza. “Whatever, bro,” he mumbled around the slice still hanging from his lips. “Whether you like it or not, you two are totally dating.”
“Are we dating?” Yoongi asked suddenly one morning before his brain had caught up to his stupid mouth.
He hid under the blankets when Jungkook turned sleepy (gorgeous) morning eyes on him. The silence that hung around them seemed to last forever and Yoongi was almost ready to implode into the universe’s most embarrassing black hole when Jungkook spoke.
“Not that I’m aware of, no.”
Yoongi let out a shuddered breath. Jungkook wasn’t freaking out. Good. At least one of them wasn’t.
“The others seem to think we’re dating. I told them it was ridiculous,” Yoongi said, slipping out from under the blankets.
Jungkook wasn’t looking at him. He was staring at the ceiling. “I didn’t say it was ridiculous,” he said with a shrug. His voice sounded strange. “I just said no one had informed me.”
Yoongi’s stomach did a weird flip. “What?” he laughed, nervousness making his voice quiver. “Do you want to date me or something?”
Jungkook looked at him and Yoongi stopped breathing. He was so fucked.
“If I say yes, does that mean we’re dating?”
Yoongi sputtered and sat up, face bright red. Jungkook looked so calm, so casual, but there was something in his eyes, something dark that made Yoongi’s head spin.
“N-no,” Yoongi squeaked. What was he supposed to say to that? Was this Jungkook asking him out? Was he just fucking with him?
“Then no,” Jungkook said, turning his head to stare back at the ceiling, closing his eyes slowly.
Yoongi almost wanted to cry. He was so frustrated. He had no idea what Jungkook was trying to say. God damn it, why couldn’t they be less fucking weird about this? Jungkook had promised he wouldn’t be weird.
“And what if I said yes?” he asked, staring down at Jungkook’s fucking perfect everything. “What then?”
Jungkook opened his eyes. They slid across Yoongi’s face until they locked with his. Yoongi was suddenly reminded of an electricity that had shot through him the night they had kissed. When their eyes had met that brief moment before Seokjin had interrupted them. Yoongi wasn’t sure what he had been thinking in that moment, but right now, as Jungkook sat up and turned to face him so they were only a few inches apart, Yoongi knew exactly what he was thinking.
He was thinking that he was absolutely, irrationally, outrageously in love with Jeon Jungkook.
“I would do this,” Jungkook said, letting his fingers slide across Yoongi’s jaw before cupping the back of his neck. Yoongi’s breath hitched as Jungkook leaned in, pausing a fraction of a second before their lips touched to give Yoongi time to resist. But Yoongi was frozen solid. He couldn’t move even if he wanted to.
Soft lips pressed against his and suddenly Yoongi couldn’t keep his eyes open any more.
His head spun, hands finding their way to Jungkook’s shoulders, curling in the fabric there as he leaned into the kiss. God, he had missed this. He had spent too long fantasizing about Jungkook kissing him again to stop now for pointless things like breathing.
His toes curled as heat coiled through his body. He pressed forward, opening his mouth against Jungkook’s and letting out the softest gasp as…
Jungkook pulled back completely, leaving Yoongi blinking fast and dizzy, fingers clutching at nothing. His face flushed red and his lips pink.
“But you didn’t say yes,” Jungkook said, breathless, as he leaned back against the headboard.
Yoongi looked at the younger man. He watched as he closed his eyes and tucked his hands under his head, looking like the most relaxed little dead man in the world.
“You asshole,” Yoongi breathed, chest heaving as he swung his leg over Jungkook’s hips and straddled him. Jungkook was smiling by the time Yoongi’s lips found his.
***
Jungkook was an asshole, Yoongi was right. He was having way too much fun watching Yoongi squirm.
Oh yeah, Yoongi had scared the shit out of him with that question at the crack of dawn when Jungkook hadn’t even fully woken up. But Jungkook hadn’t stopped thinking about Yoongi and his lips and his pretty skin and his gorgeous laugh for the past two months.
Seokjin didn’t really approve of their weird relationship, but he was far too overprotective. Apparently, according to everyone else, they were already dating. The thought made Jungkook’s insides twist happily.
Yoongi wasn’t only the most beautiful person Jungkook had ever met, he was also one of the hardest working. He took care of everyone. Even Jimin, despite their history. He made sure everyone ate. He spent money on them and spoiled them and helped them with their homework. He pet Jungkook’s hair when he thought he was asleep. He made Jungkook feel wanted, and Jungkook liked to think he made Yoongi feel the same way. Because Jungkook wanted him, god, he wanted him so badly.
And now that he had him—beautiful and eager and sitting on his lap with those perfect lips pressed so hungrily to his—Jungkook had no intention of letting him go.
Yoongi’s hands tangled in his hair and he moaned into Yoongi’s open mouth, sliding his hands under Yoongi’s t-shirt to grip his waist.
He was so small (something Jungkook had learned not to say out loud because boy did Yoongi not like that) and Jungkook wanted to wrap around him, consume him completely. Claim him.
Yoongi was making absolutely beautiful little noises as Jungkook deepened the kiss and dragged Yoongi’s bottom lip between his teeth. He hiked up Yoongi’s shirt, breaking the kiss to pull it over his head. He moaned low in his throat, biting his lip as he stared down at Yoongi’s chest, fingers tracing lines over his body. He had gained some weight since the first time Jungkook had seem him shirtless, but it only served to soften him, make him look less frail.
Jungkook leaned in, pressing kisses along Yoongi’s chest as fingers tightened in his hair.
“Wait,” Yoongi gasped, pulling Jungkook’s head back gently. “W-wait. Do you… Are we…” He looked flustered, face red and chest heaving as he struggled to draw in breath. “You’re confusing as fuck, Jungkook. What do you want?”
Jungkook’s lips pulled back in a grin that threatened to split his face in half. He pressed a gentle kiss to Yoongi’s chin.
“I want you,” he whispered, fingers stroking down his sides. “I want you in every way you will let me have you. God, hyung, I would probably marry you if you’d let me.”
So maybe that last bit wasn’t strictly necessary. His ears burned as he watched Yoongi’s face flutter through a series of emotions.
Jungkook’s chest warmed when he settled for a smile. That beautiful, happy smile that Jungkook had come to love so much.
“You’re ridiculous,” Yoongi muttered, pressing his forehead against Jungkook’s for a moment before he kissed him again.
Jungkook smiled into the kiss, holding him close.
Jungkook was only 19, and sure, maybe Yoongi was a little fucked up. But Jungkook had never been happier than he was right now.