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There is something about Kim Taehyung. Some of his clients say he’s magic, others just call it talent. But what it was, truly, was just instinct. A gut feeling, whenever he looked at a client, sizing them up immediately and being able to tell, from the get-go, if they needed a three-piece suit, or merino wool, or a double-breasted jacket. It wasn't a language he could speak; it was as if he could hear colours, or feel sound waves.
And, well. He’s never wrong, is the thing.
“What about this?” Jimin asks, draping himself in a length of heavy brocade, looking down at himself in his fabric toga, small hand working it to create some dips and folds, like he’s actually thinking about making it. He raises an eyebrow in Taehyung’s direction, who shakes his head.
“No, I need crushed velvet. Crushed velvet will be perfect for Seokjin-hyung.”
Jimin snorts. "I can never get you to embrace the my themes. It's all decadent velvet and silk with you."
"Not always!" Taehyung whines. "Just for Jin-hyung. It's his vibe."
"Uh huh," Jimin says, turning back towards the mirror and posing coquettishly. "I think you just like draping heavy things over Jin-hyung's shoulders."
"That's you, remember?" Taehyung smirks.
Jimin gasps, affronted. "Are you calling me heavy?!"
Taehyung might be the one with the longer legs, but Jimin sure puts on a burst of speed when he wants it. The doorbell's jangle catches them mid-tussle, Jimin's arm in a stranglehold around Taehyung's neck as he tries desperately to trip him up, while Taehyung wheezes with laughter.
"We're professional, I promise," Jimin tells the startled-looking man at the door. He looks skeptical, so Taehyung gently disentangles himself from Jimin's clinging limbs and goes to see how he can help.
The man needs a good suit for a dream job interview, but Taehyung has a feeling about this one, a hook in his gut that tells him - elegant navy, but with a colourful lining, maybe lemon yellow paisley. It's a strange impulse, but he has learned not to argue with these things. Something will happen to this man after his interview: something wonderful and bright that will change his life. Taehyung will give him a hand now that he can.
The man takes some convincing, but Taehyung brings out his best charm and promises him he won't regret it. They start talking, the man coming out of his shell little by little, coaxed by Taehyung and how interested he is in knowing everything he can about him, just to make sure he gives him the best suit possible. Jimin disappears in the back to go through the fabrics he’s brought with him and finish sorting the ones Taehyung will need, while Taehyung himself stays in the front of the store, standing with his client in front of his three-way mirror.
“The interview’s for a paralegal job, in this huge firm in Gangnam.”
“Are you nervous about it?” As he asks, Taehyung grabs his tape measure, starting to jot down the man’s size down. Navy, yes, and a classic cut - single breasted, three buttons for the jacket, notch lapels, since it’s for an interview and not some kind of event where they should take too much risk. A light blue for the shirt underneath.
“Yeah, a little,” his client replies, and Taehyung pops up behind his shoulder to give him a big smile.
“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you’ll look your best. You have great shoulders,” he says, not really thinking about it. It’s one of these things - Hoseok-hyung always tells him he could be on Queer Eye if he wanted, he’s so good at boosting confidence, not that Taehyung ever watched the show much - he’s a lot more into period dramas.
Taehyung looks down the man’s side, contemplating the cut of the pants. “Do you have a problem with a skinny leg, for your trousers? I think a fitted style would suit you, but if you’re not comfortable with that, we can go for a structured style. Since you have nice broad shoulders we can skip padding the jacket, and the rest follows your lines.”
Their eyes meet over the man’s shoulders, and Taehyung knows he’s being assessed. And then, there’s something like surprise on the man’s face, before he laughs a little, looking pleased.
“I’ve been told you’re good, but I wasn’t sure. I’ll just go with whatever you think is best.”
Taehyung grins, bright and big and happy. “Excellent.”
;;
There is a pinboard hanging on a wall in Taehyung's store. It isn't every customer that, to quote Jungkook, gets his Spidey senses tingling. But when it happens, and he feels like he has done a good job on their design, he asks if he can snap a polaroid. Almost all of those are annotated: won a competition, got the perfect job, successfully defended their thesis, met their future partner. Taehyung is grinning as he adds a small note on paisley lining guy: 'fell in love with a girl in an elevator', when someone else comes into the store.
"Hoseok-hyung!" Jungkook yells, followed immediately by the grunt that usually accompanies Jungkook pitching himself bodily at another person so he can get his hug for the day. Jungkook - supposedly Taehyung’s apprentice, but more often just an overgrown puppy. Taehyung loves him with his whole chest.
"Hi, Kookie," Hoseok manages, winding his arms around him and patting him on the back as Taehyung emerges from the office.
"Hey, hyung," Taehyung calls. Hoseok waves and scrunches his eyes in a wide smile.
"Hey, Taehyung-ah. You got a minute for a consultation?"
"For you, always. What is it this time? Audition? Award ceremony?"
Hoseok blushes high on his cheekbones. "Haven't won anything yet."
Taehyung waves a hand. "It's only a matter of time, and when you do, I will be deeply insulted if you don't come to me so I can dress you up all snazzy."
"You got it," Hoseok smiles. "Actually, it's for a friend, but it's a little short notice - he badly needs a great suit for a wedding next weekend. The tailor he went to first completely screwed up his proportions."
Taehyung winces. Yeah, he's dealt with a horror story or two in his time.
"Well, let's have him, we'll make sure he looks like a VIP."
"I'll go get him. He's lurking outside in case you didn't have time for him. Like I'd take him anywhere that would leave him hanging. If the hug monster deigns to let go of me, of course."
Jungkook grumbles but steps back. Hoseok smiles at him indulgently, leans up to peck a kiss on his cheek before heading for the door.
"You all right there, Jungkookie?" Tae winks.
"Oh my god, hyung, stop," Jungkook manages while slowly turning red. "You promised you'd let me take measurements this time!"
"Sure, sure, you can help." In all honesty, Jungkook doesn't need as much practice as he thinks, he's learning so fast that Taehyung is thinking about putting him on pattern cutting soon.
Then Hoseok is coming back, and behind him is… A kitten.
Okay, maybe not an actual kitten. It's a man, young, maybe mid-twenties. But he has these delicate features, sleepy eyes, pouty mouth, small button nose, and Taehyung can't help the squeal of "Cute!!" in his head. His hair is a kind of light caramel brown, messy around his face. He blinks up at Taehyung from behind too-long bangs, and Taehyung melts. He bows, because he is polite and a professional, but it’s hard not to smile.
"Hi," he says, probably a little lower and breather than normal, but give him a break. He wasn't expecting this teacup human with wide shoulders but small waist, a little slouchy in the way he carries himself, like he is used to hiding himself behind clothes. That is absolutely not what will happen this time. Taehyung wants to make him a whole wardrobe of cool sparkly suits.
The immediate image in his head is a classic, sharp cut. Bring up the shoulders a little, make him walk taller than he currently is. And, more importantly, the jacket and pants don’t match in color. The jacket’s a cool grey, but the pants are black, setting him apart a little, and giving him different proportions.
He’s so busy thinking he’s missed Hoseok talking again, and he doesn’t realize until Jungkook snaps his fingers in front of his face. “Hyung? Earth to Kim Taehyung-ssi?”
Taehyung blinks, and then flushes, chuckling to himself. “Sorry.”
Hoseok laughs gently, a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “As I was saying, Taehyung-ah, this is my friend Min Yoongi. Can I leave him in your extremely competent hands? I have some errands to run.”
“Hi,” Yoongi says, somewhat awkwardly. His voice is so deep it’s a miracle Taehyung doesn’t shiver.
At the same time, Jungkook perks up and snaps the measuring tape in his hands. “I’m measuring!”
Hoseok laughs indulgently, and nods his way. “And your hands too, of course.”
Yoongi still looks like he’s mildly nervous, but he seems to relax in increments as he takes in the scene. Meanwhile, Taehyung nods. “I’ll take the utmost care of him, I promise.”
Hoseok grins his heart-shaped grin, and winks from behind Yoongi’s head. “I know you will.”
Yoongi turns to him and they exchange a few words before Hoseok leaves, and so Taehyung himself turns to Jungkook. “Take his numbers, I’ll check the back for a few sample fabrics.”
Jungkook nods, and Taehyung watches him lead Yoongi to the raised platform with gentle care, before he disappears into the backroom, giving himself a moment to lean back against the door and tip his head back, breathing deep. Behind his eyelids he sees slightly shaggy hair, and warm eyes, and in his head he hears that voice again. Just one word, but enough. Taehyung spends a moment wondering what kind of other noises Yoongi might make, before he gets a grip of himself.
Yoongi is a client, and he’s a friend of Hoseok’s. He’s too important for Taehyung to let his mind want like this so quickly. So he gets himself together, and selects a few fabrics - a nice, light cotton twill, a luxurious cashmere blend, and a heavier worsted wool, all of them in a selection of grey, just for himself to check against Yoongi’s skin tone. He walks back out as Jungkook notes down inseam numbers, and observes the rest of the process, unseen.
“Hoseok said he’s good,” Yoongi’s saying, hands in the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie. Jungkook, from his crouched position, nods.
“Oh, he is. He’s the best. I got lucky to get an apprenticeship here.”
Feeling like he’s eavesdropping, Taehyung clears his throat lightly. “It’s not got anything to do with chance, Jungkook-ah. You’re extremely talented.”
And a fast learner, and very passionate, which are all things that Taehyung had been looking for in an apprentice. Yoongi turns to look at him, and Taehyung smiles.
“But he’s right, I am the best. Now, Min Yoongi-ssi, how do you usually like your suits? Baggy and black?”
Is he teasing? He very well might be. Yoongi blinks up at him again. He looks taken aback, until he doesn't, until his face lights up in a grin, and Taehyung's heart honest to god skips a beat.
"If you can make me a suit that feels like a hoodie, I will swear eternal fealty then and there."
Taehyung rolls his eyes, draping a bolt of fabric across Yoongi's shoulder and stepping back to observe.
"You're gonna feel comfortable in it, but it is not going to look like loungewear."
Yoongi sighs a little despondently. "I guess it is a wedding. Also Namjoon will have my head if i turn up in anything less than a penguin suit. Wedding planner," he clarifies at Taehyung's raised eyebrow. "He gets… Intense about proper wear."
"A man after my own heart, then," Taehyung says, quickly swapping a few of the fabrics until he lands on the silky merino wool in starlight gray, the weave taking advantage of the weight of the thread until it's almost a little shiny. "This one, I think."
Yoongi turns around to look in the mirror, eyes narrowed. He is quiet for a few long moments, and then he nods grudgingly.
"That will look good."
"Yes, it will," Taehyung says happily. "Also, black bootcut trousers. How do you feel about bow ties?"
Yoongi makes a face. It scrunches his nose and lowers his eyebrows; he looks like a disgruntled gremlin. Taehyung smothers a small helpless sound in the back of his throat, pouts a little to distract himself.
"Bow ties are cool," he argues weakly.
Yoongi gives him a look. "I’d rather wear a tuxedo and a mask."
Did he just… Taehyung did not expect this when he woke up this morning.
“You like Sailor Moon?”
"A skinny tie," Yoongi is saying instead of answering the question, turning so the fabric drapes across his chest. "White shirt. This could work. And yes, I do."
Taehyung’s heart skips a beat. He wants to ask who Yoongi’s favourite character is. He wants to tell him about the first time he saw Tuxedo Mask and couldn’t look away from his suit, so simple yet so perfectly rendered. He wants to gossip about that time he and Jimin dressed up as Sailor Pluto and Sailor Mars for a fancy dress party and got so many phone numbers scratched into the inside of their bare arms.
But they’ve only just met.
“Me too,” he replies softly, before forcing himself to get back to the task at hand. Black satin-lined lapels, thin leather belt, black shiny shoes. He is going to get mobbed at this wedding, mask or no mask.
And then… there it is. The niggle. The little piece of grit at the back of his mind. This suit is important. It will be important to Yoongi, a turning point in his life. Taehyung would bet Yoongi is going to meet someone at the wedding who will rumble his world. Of course he will; look at him. Even before Taehyung works his magic, Yoongi is the kind of guy who has people falling in love with him from first sight. There’s a quiet confidence to him, once he gets past the first moments of awkwardness. Yoongi’s not tall, but he commands attention anyway, draws you in. In that suit, he could have anyone he wants.
Good for the lucky, lucky person, Taehyung supposes.
“Okay,” he says softly, gathering his fabric samples in his arms. Yoongi looks at him expectantly. “Jungkook should already be busy working on getting your measurements entered in our system so I can work on a pattern. I’ll have it ready in a couple days. Can you come back on Monday?”
Yoongi looks surprised, but Taehyung just shrugs with a smile. “You have a quick turnaround. Call it a favor for a friend.”
“We’re friends?”
Taehyung, this time, grins, poking his tongue between his teeth. “Hoseok-hyung’s my friend.”
Surprisingly enough, Yoongi laughs, and it sounds a little like it’s been punched out of him, and it’s wonderful. Taehyung feels like swooning.
;;
When Hoseok comes to the store the next day, it’s in the midst of a flurry of activity. Over in one corner, Taehyung is elbow deep in cutting the pattern for Yoongi’s suit, but also, in the middle of the store are Seokjin and Jungkook, the former wearing a very expensive, very luxurious looking crushed velvet suit in such a deep blue that it looks almost black, and the latter taking a million pictures. Taehyung grins when he looks up from his work table, ignoring the commotion and Jungkook’s comments of ‘make love to the camera, hyung!’ to motion Hoseok forward.
“Hello, Taehyungie,” Hoseok says, leaning a hip on the table. He looks back at Jungkook for a moment, and Taehyung smirks.
“Hi, hyung. Fancy seeing you here twice in two days. What brings you this time? Anything in particular?”
Like an overgrown boy with a bunny smile, perhaps? But Hoseok rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “Just wanted to make sure everything went well yesterday. Yoongi has been… interestingly expansive,” he says, and Taehyung blinks, a slow smile breaking over his face.
“He has? What about?”
Hoseok grins back, his beautiful heart-shaped toothy smile that takes over his whole face and makes him bright as sunlight. “You, mostly.”
Taehyung expected to hear it being about the store, and about how they’re not really traditional. After all, he’s modelled the place after Savile Row stores he’d seen, read about, and finally visited a few years ago when he finally had the chance to go to London. They don’t sell hanbok, or traditional clothing; just suits, tailored to perfection. He looks up, his expression probably a little startled, but his face shifts back into a smile when he hears Seokjin’s booming laughter coming from the front of the store.
“Me?”
Taehyung looks down at himself, like he’s surprised, but all the same checks back to what he was wearing then, how his hair behaved that day, the kind of smiles he gave Yoongi. He prides himself on being always put together, and he wears suits every day to work - he likes to take risks with his fashion, bold patterns and unusual materials, and maybe that caught Yoongi’s eye.
Hoseok hums, and picks up a piece of fabric, holding it against his hand. “Mmhmm. There was some mention of your smile ‘being like staring straight at the sun’, but maybe I’m paraphrasing.”
Horrifyingly, Taehyung feels a flush rising. It starts somewhere around his gut and keeps coming, and coming, until his ears are burning with it. Hoseok looks fucking delighted.
“You like him!” he crows, all but pointing a finger at the evidence of Taehyung’s hypothetical emotions.
Taehyung rolls his eyes, going straight into damage control mode. “I might like him,” his mouth says, like a traitor.
Hoseok softens, ruffling his hair. “Aw, you two are so damn cute.”
Taehyung makes a face, but the thing is, he likes this. He likes ‘you two’ and feeling like a part of something, something that is comprised of two people wanting to know each other better. It’s not exactly foreign, but it’s still so new, and exciting, and a little exhilarating. (And also terrifying, because this time, he has no way to know if it will pan out or if he is destined to crash and burn.)
“Please don’t make fun of me,” he asks softly. “I’m not sure about anything yet.”
Hoseok stops ruffling his hair and straight-up cuddles him into his lap, even though Taehyung is absolutely taller than he is. “Taetae, my gem, my sunshine. I would never. But in case you were wondering - it’s not just you.”
“Hey,” Jungkook yells, preternaturally aware when there is cuddling going on that he isn’t a part of. “This is a professional setting, you know.”
Seokjin, Taehyung, and Hoseok all look at each other. And then everyone laughs until they’re a pile on the floor, gratefully forgetting they’re all grown-ups with jobs for a little while.
;;
Taehyung likes working in the evenings. The reason he rented this store to begin with is that the studio in the back feels like it’s made of light, huge windows and skylights letting in every photon available in the area. When spring starts settling in, with its long afternoons and gilded sunsets, it’s Taehyung’s favourite place in the world.
He had locked up the store before retiring to the workroom to stitch up the fabric cut and ready to become Yoongi’s suit. It’s going quickly, smoothly, without the snags some suits like to throw up just to spite him. The threads sing under Taehyung’s fingers, turning in precise angles under the sewing machine’s thrumming beat. He pins the shoulder pads in place, marks the spot for buttons, stiffens the lapels. Thinks about the lining - he doesn’t want to go loud with it. Yoongi deserves a thing as classy and beautiful as himself. Maybe the pale silver silk Taehyung had been saving for a wedding smock. Well, this is a jacket, and it is for a wedding, so… Technically, it fits.
A tentative knock comes from the front. Taehyung is all set to ignore it, when he hears someone calling his name in a deep voice that sends shivers down his spine. It can’t be. He can’t have conjured the one person he so very much wants to see right now out of thin air.
Except he has. Yoongi stands on the other side of the door, looking small and fluffy in a hoodie even bigger than the one in which he’d been wrapped when Taehyung first saw him. Goddamnit, he’s too cute.
“Hi, I wasn’t expecting you,” Taehyung murmurs as he undoes the lock and opens the door.
It runs into Yoongi’s soft, “I’m sorry, I know I wasn’t supposed to be here.” Their voices twine and mingle, a pleasant sensation.
Taehyung steps back. “Please, come in,” he says, as if there is anything else in the world he could be saying.
Yoongi looks at him, and nods, and does. He keeps on playing with the sleeves of his hoodie, curling his fingers into it, giving him sweater paws, and Taehyung wants to coo, or maybe squeal a little. Potentially roll Yoongi’s sleeves up to his wrists, just to be able to touch the delicate bone there. Yoongi looks around at the store, the dim lights reflecting in the polished hardwood floors, casting a soft glow on the racks of ready-made suits.
“It looks different than it does during the day,” he observes, looking around, the air quiet and still and peaceful.
“It does,” Taehyung agrees. “I like it, it’s soothing.”
“It is.” Yoongi stands there in the middle, like he is wondering what he is doing here. “I’m sorry, am I interrupting your work? I don’t even know why I’m here, really. I just… Um, I felt like I wanted to see if you’d left already, or… not.”
Taehyung’s whole body feels warm, a gentle sweetness rising in his chest. He wants to put his palm on Yoongi’s face and just look at him for a while.
“I guess I haven’t,” he says. “Do you want to come into the back? I just finished the first cut of your jacket, actually.”
“Oh?” Yoongi says, looking up at him. Taehyung doesn’t know why he likes the inch or two of height difference so much, but he can’t lie to himself and pretend he doesn’t. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Taehyung says, and carefully doesn’t think about what exactly he is confirming. Instead, he starts walking to the workroom, opening the door and motioning for Yoongi to follow. He does, still looking around like he’s absolutely fascinated by everything he’s seeing, and it makes something proud swell in Taehyung’s chest.
In the workroom, there are floor to ceiling shelves loaded with fabrics and patterns, but also crawling plants growing under the multiple skylights, budding flowers turned up. There’s an organized chaos, as Taehyung likes to call it, a few mannequins lined up and adorned with various suits in various states of completion. Taehyung gestures to the one closest to the door.
“This is yours,” he says softly, and Yoongi steps closer, fingers hesitating as he reaches up but stops himself short. “You can touch. It’s important that you like the feel of the fabric.”
“I already did the other day.”
“It’s different. Try,” Taehyung adds, and wraps his fingers around Yoongi’s, pulling his hand gently to graze the soft wool of the jacket.
For some reason, he didn’t expect the way Yoongi gasps. And Taehyung can’t tell if it’s because of the fabric, or because of how they’re touching, but nevertheless, it makes more warmth bloom in his stomach, makes his whole body feel like it’s glowing from the inside out.
“Wow,” Yoongi whispers, blinking. “I could write songs about this.”
“Is that what you do? You write songs?”
Yoongi pulls his hand away from the fabric, but not from Taehyung’s hold. Their fingers tangle together with the sleeve of Yoongi’s hoodie.
“I teach music composition. So yeah. I write songs, sometimes.”
“That’s amazing. I’d love to sit in on one of your classes.”
The way Taehyung says the words is entirely earnest, because he means it, with every fiber of his being; he’d love to see Yoongi in his own element the way Yoongi has seen Taehyung in his own. Somehow, though, even in the low light of the workroom, Taehyung can’t miss the way Yoongi suddenly flushes, the way he bites down on a smile. It doesn’t look like he’s embarrassed, but more like he’s impossibly pleased.
“You’re welcome to. Anytime you’d like.”
It feels like time has stopped, here and now, in Taehyung’s workroom. Taehyung wants to put music on and ask Yoongi to dance, he wants Yoongi to put the jacket on and make sure he’s happy with it. He wants to be blinded and impressed by Yoongi’s sharp tongue and cat-like eyes. He wants, he wants, he wants.
And he feels like Yoongi might want, too, but. After a moment longer, their hands part, and Taehyung rubs his fingers against his palm, bereft at the loss. Some of the warmth leeches out of him and he pulls a little on the sleeve of his jacket, trying to get it back.
“I should -” Yoongi starts, but Taehyung interrupts him.
“Do you want a coffee? I know it’s late, but. It’s a nice night. Sometimes I go sit on the roof to try and see the stars. Do you? Maybe wanna do that?” Nevermind that Taehyung himself doesn’t drink coffee. It’s not what matters.
Something seems to suddenly melt off of Yoongi’s shoulders, and he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”
They talk all night. They talk about music, about movies, about fashion. When they disagree on something, Yoongi makes them hold hands until they reach an agreement. It’s strange and different and soft and it melts Taehyung from the inside. They talk about growing up, realize they’re both from Daegu. They talk about family and Taehyung sprouting from the dirt of his grandparents’ farm and discovering a passion for tailoring after discovering anime cosplay, while Yoongi grew from the concrete and the streets and that’s what turned him into a rapper at first.
At some point nearing 5am, Taehyung falls asleep, his head on Yoongi’s lap. It doesn’t last long, though, and he comes to only moments later, to a bright sky and a soft smile.
“I have to go,” Yoongi says, and Taehyung nods. They shuffle together downstairs quietly, and say their goodbyes quietly. Taehyung’s got to work today, but he doesn’t open the store, he just takes a long nap on the couch in the dressing room, and then keeps working on Yoongi’s suit in the workroom, ignoring all texts and calls he gets, and enjoying the peacefulness, in this room, in the sky, in his heart.
He’s smiling for the rest of the day.
;;
It’s a couple of days later when Taehyung sees Yoongi again, for the final fitting. He has dressed up, even more than usual - slightly oversized tweed suit in an olive color that makes his skin look golden, and a white fitted shirt underneath, keeping it simple. The suit and its cut emphasizes Taehyung’s shoulders, make him look a little more mature, and even if Jimin called it his ‘history professor’ look, Taehyung likes it. It's not quite intentional, but he definitely doesn't mind the way Yoongi keeps looking at him for slightly longer than normal.
Of course, Yoongi is wearing his usual attire when he shows up, but he always looks so comfortable in his clothes that Taehyung almost feels a little guilty asking him to change. Only not really, because what he’s got for Yoongi will look incredible, he just knows it.
He arranges the jacket on Yoongi’s shoulders, taking out a pin and shifting it a hair higher, pushing it through the material again. “So, you’ve got a date to this wedding?”
He’s been wanting to ask this question since the very moment they met, but hadn’t dared to. Their interactions had been too gentle, too pleasing for Taehyung to try and disrupt it with such a real-life question, especially one that could destroy his bubble-like fragile hopes. It was better not to ask.
And yet, it’s been established that his mouth is a traitor, and so, he asks.
Yoongi looks up, and meets Taehyung’s eyes in the mirror. He looks mildly stricken at the question, and takes a moment before answering, very softly, very low, “Yes.”
Taehyung’s stomach drops. “Oh.”
“It’s, uh, a friend, from college. The people getting married, we all met in school, it was kind of a given we’d all be there together.” Yoongi sounds flustered. Taehyung didn’t know he would recognise Yoongi’s particular version of flustered, but he does.
He smiles, tries to make it reach his eyes, probably fails. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll make you look amazing, they’ll all wonder how they missed you all these years.”
Yoongi makes a sound in the back of his throat, halfway between agreeing and questioning. Taehyung bites his mouth closed and keeps working. He knew the suit would look killer on Yoongi, of course he knew. It’s just that he looks so good like this. Taller, aloof, alluring. The warm brown of his hair gleams against the gray, deepening the paleness of his skin into something made of moonlight. His legs look long in that cut of trousers, slim, elegant.
Taehyung had really thought they were getting somewhere. He is used to that thing inside him taking over, but he has never reacted to another person in the way he reacts to Yoongi. The truth is, he can never turn his intuition inwards, towards himself. He can never tell what would make clothes special for him, what would make him look like this, like someone to be wanted. It’s not that he’s jealous - or, he is, but not of Yoongi. He is jealous of the person who gets to walk around on Yoongi’s arm, and bask in his attention.
Damn it. He is such an idiot.
“Done,” he says, and not a moment too soon. The bitterness rising inside is an acrid taste in the sunny afternoon; it has no place in this space that he calls home. He is content. He loves his job. He loves helping people. He bears no resentment to their happiness; the thought alone makes him want to cringe. This is his purpose in life, and he is good at it.
Yoongi doesn’t say a thing, just looks at himself in the mirror. There is a wrinkle between his eyebrows that Taehyung longs to ease away with his thumb.
“Okay, I give,” Yoongi rumbles at last. “You’re the best. I don’t think I have ever looked this good in clothes in my life.”
Taehyung smirks a little, ego appeased.
“Why, thank you kindly,” he says, turning to put away his tools. “Let me help you take it off. You can pick it up tomorrow.”
He resolutely does not memorise the way the jacket feels sliding off Yoongi’s shoulders, or the way he licks his lips when Taehyung’s fingers accidentally brush the length of his arms. None of this is for him. He just - forgot that for a little while. Let himself dream. It's well past time he woke up.
As he cradles the jacket carefully and Yoongi steps into the dressing room to get changed out of the rest of his new clothes, Taehyung sighs softly. The thing is - Taehyung is someone who appreciates beauty. In every little thing, he can find it and see it. In the way the sun reflects off of tall buildings, in tiny patches of grass growing between cracks in the pavement, in a good plate of dumplings, in the way Jungkook stomps around the store, in people. People are beautiful, and fascinating, and Taehyung is endlessly taken by them, and he loves being a part of someone’s life, if only for a moment.
And he’s had crushes. He’s dated. He’s had relationships. But never before has he felt his gut kick into high gear the way it does when Yoongi’s around. The inklings he gets are never about him, so why does it feel like it is, right now?
He’s just done placing the jacket on a mannequin when Yoongi steps out of the dressing room, back in his skinny black jeans and his oversized t-shirt, the other pieces of his suit draped over one of his arms. His hair is mussed, and Taehyung has to resist reaching out to smooth it down. Instead, he curls his hands into the bundle of clothes in Yoongi’s arms, and arranges them next to mannequin.
“So, tomorrow?” Yoongi asks, sounding hesitant, and Taehyung is a professional, so he smiles, and he nods.
“Tomorrow.”
“Okay. Then… I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Taehyung wants to say so many things. He wants to reach out and hold Yoongi’s hand and tell him to stay, maybe, or ask him to take him as his date to the wedding instead, or something just as ludicrous and over the top, which tends to be Taehyung’s M.O. But instead, he watches Yoongi walk out of the store, and he doesn’t say anything, his tongue heavy in his mouth, his head buzzing with regrets.
It’s only later, when he goes to check the dressing room that Taehyung sees that Yoongi’s left his hoodie behind. The one he keeps on wearing, the huge black one with the threads fraying around the collar and the kangaroo pocket starting to come undone in one corner. Taehyung takes it with careful hands, and brings it to his chest, able to smell Yoongi’s cologne on the well-loved, well-worn fabric. His heart thumps painfully, but he still brings the hoodie to his workroom.
Taehyung likes to think of himself as an honest person, and he is. He doesn’t like lying even to himself. So when he calls up Jimin and asks to do an inventory of the fabrics warehouse with him the next day, he does so in the full and acute knowledge that he is a coward. But he just can't. He can't face Yoongi again so soon. Can't compose himself into the cool, aloof professional facade he likes to present to his clients. If he sees Yoongi looking sharp and beautiful and like starlight in that suit, he is going to very publicly lose it, and then everyone will be so sweet and concerned and Yoongi will feel bad and Taehyung will want to die.
So he makes himself scarce. Lets Jungkook handle it, who is no fool and, while he preens under the show of trust and responsibility, also lets Taehyung know that they'll be having A Talk soon enough. (Because he is also one of Taehyung's best friends, he also sends him a snap of Yoongi looking divine and edible yet strangely muted, none of the excitement Taehyung had seen the last few times. Taehyung would never presume to think it's because he isn't there, but his treacherous heart leaps anyway.)
Jimin only asks him if he wants to talk about it the once, thus cementing his position as Taehyung's other best friend. Taehyung wants nothing more than to not obsess over Yoongi's wedding date every waking moment. So he makes very sure that no one is around later, when he sits in the still warmth of his workroom and brings the threadbare hoodie Yoongi left behind to his face, inhaling deeply. Yoongi probably didn't even realise it was missing, since he hadn't asked Jungkook about it. It's a piece of good fortune that Taehyung will gratefully take.
The hoodie smells like Yoongi - some kind of earthy cologne, and Taehyung feels a little guilty to be pressing it against his face the way he is, but it makes him feel better. He’ll give it back to Yoongi when he comes back, but for now.
For now, he’ll bask in this feeling for a moment longer.
;;
Taehyung tries not to think about it, when the wedding day comes, but it’s there, at the back of his head, like a sore tooth that you keep on tonguing even though you know you shouldn’t. It makes him distracted all day, and he feels like he’s going through the motions instead of really paying attention to his work the way he should. He’s… unlike himself, really.
Still, he gets to put a new picture up on his board, from one of his older clients that had a dinner party with his estranged children. They’d managed to reconcile and promised to start again, and Taehyung was incredibly proud, incredibly blessed to be able to help people on their journeys the way he was. Small things maybe in the grand scheme of life, but huge things for individuals.
Then he gets a client in the afternoon and does his best to focus on her instead of the fact that he knows, somewhere in Ilsandong-gu, Yoongi might be dancing with the love of his life at someone else’s wedding.
The day goes by agonizingly slowly. As the afternoon dies out, Taehyung tries his best to entertain himself and keep his mind off of things by sweeping the store while dancing to EXID, which is when, while doing his workroom, he comes face to face with Yoongi’s hoodie, draped over the back of a chair.
It’s instinct again, the way Taehyung takes off his own suit jacket, putting it on a mannequin’s shoulders, and then slips on the hoodie. His heart picks up pace immediately as he wraps himself in the warmth of the garment, the sleeves hanging over his hands, the whole thing baggy and shapeless on his lithe frame. Construction-wise, it’s not the best, but the moment Taehyung puts it on, a wave of calm washes through him.
Standing here in his workroom with a broom in his hands and his plants seeming to turn to look at him curiously, Taehyung closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He tips his head back, feeling the early evening dusty light through the large windows overhead, allowing himself a moment of relishing the feeling. Taehyung’s tried on all sorts of clothes in his life, and he’s pretty much a risk-taker when it comes to his fashion. He’s never shied away from trying new things, and he likes comfort, so it’s not exactly the first time he’s wearing a hoodie, or oversized clothing. But never before has he felt so… at home.
It's that feeling when you close the front door behind you after a long day, when the very air of your apartment seems to welcome you back. It's the appreciation of sinking into a hot scented bath, your whole body grateful for the care. It's the sensation of soft, gentle lips on the back of your neck, touching you with sweet affection. Taehyung wants to wrap his arms around himself and sink to the floor and just bask in the moment. It does not escape his attention that the only piece of clothing to ever make him feel this way belongs to Yoongi, a man he is becoming dangerously infatuated with, and whom he has absolutely no claim on. This cannot be good for his health.
And yet, a small part of him wonders if this is what his clients experience when they put on the clothes Taehyung has so carefully created for them. If so - then at least Taehyung can keep the knowledge of it, and let it comfort him.
He startles a little when he hears the little bells above his door ring out, but walks out of the workroom, hugging himself still wrapped in Yoongi’s hoodie, the tips of his fingers peeking out of the sleeves as if he could keep the man himself as close. He stops in his tracks when he sees that it’s none other than the object of all of his thoughts of recent, a few feet inside the store, hands in fists at his sides, face soft and open as he stares straight at Taehyung.
One of his eyebrows raises slowly.
“That’s my hoodie,” he says, instead of saying hello like a normal person. Taehyung swallows, and nods. It looks like maybe Yoongi was wearing a hint of make-up, the dim lights of the showroom catching on the soft sparkle of his cheekbones. His eyes bear smudges of charcoal gray; it makes him look almost ethereal, the impression deepened by the shine of peachy pink on his mouth. He looks absolutely every inch as ravishing as Taehyung always knew he would in the suit he made for him. He is beautiful, and Taehyung can't look away, even though he knows he probably should.
“Do you want it back?” Taehyung asks finally, after the silence stretches between them, making it seem like there are miles of shiny flooring between them and not just a few feet. His voice is tiny, whisper-low, and he tightens his fingers in the sleeves, like he can prevent Yoongi from taking the hoodie from him.
But Yoongi just chuckles and and shakes his head. “No. It suits you, actually. My clothes look good on you, like yours do on me.”
Taehyung blushes, looking up. He’s sure he looks as startled as he feels.
“What are you doing here, hyung? Shouldn’t you be at - the wedding? Your date…”
Yoongi tugs on the sleeves of his jacket. The suit fits him so well, and Taehyung wants to be proud of his work, but right now, he’s too worked up, stomach in all sorts of knots and twists, anxiety and anticipation and a little hope wrapping around his insides like vines.
“Skipped out. My date won’t mind. I realized early on that I was being stupid and made a mistake, so I couldn’t have been that good company anyway.”
Taehyung blinks. “Huh,” he says intelligently, leaning back until he can feel the edge of the work table against his hip. It feels good to have something solid against him, because he’s not sure that the floor hasn’t turned to clouds right now. “What mistake did you make?”
Yoongi flushes, looks down as he spreads his hands open in front of him. His fingers make vague shadows on the hardwood floor. “I took the wrong person as my date.”
“Oh. You did?”
Yoongi looks at him pointedly, like Taehyung is being the obtuse one here. "Yes, Taehyung. I did. I have no idea what I was thinking when I didn't do everything I could to make sure you were the one standing next to me today. God knows it was all I could think about. It got so bad that my own friends kicked me out and told me to get my head out of my ass and go get you."
"Oh," Taehyung says soundlessly. He is still stuck on the part where Yoongi is here, and wanted Taehyung to be there with him, and isn't somewhere else making someone else fall in love with him.
The silence drags, and Yoongi is starting to look more and more uncertain. Taehyung has absolutely no excuse letting that happen.
"I thought," he tries to explain. "I get these feelings sometimes. I thought this suit would be important in your life. I thought… You'd meet someone amazing. Someone special."
Yoongi starts smiling, and keeps going until his whole face is scrunched from the force of it. "I did," he says simply. He is still looking at Taehyung and Taehyung alone.
Even he can't be that dense. His body is ahead of his brain for a change; he feels the beam of happiness as it starts in his chest and engulfs his whole self.
"Oh," he says again. "I… I see."
"Do you," Yoongi says dryly. "Because you're still standing all the way over there, and I need you to be here, please, so I can kiss you. If you want."
Taehyung is moving forward before Yoongi is even done speaking. They crash into each other, arms immediately latching onto whatever they can keep close. Yoongi smiles at him before he leans up on his tiptoes and brushes their mouths together; Taehyung is melting in slow motion, leaning down, leaning in. Letting himself have this thing that he had thought he needed before, but he'd had no idea how badly until it's happening and he can't breathe for the wanting of it.
"Yoongi," he whispers when their mouths part only for Yoongi to drag his lips down his jaw to the place it meets his neck. It makes Taehyung shudder and gasp. "Yoongi, hyung, are you sure, please be sure because I can't-"
"Tae. I'm sure. I've been sure for nine days."
"But we've only known each other for nine days."
"Exactly."
The point finally sinks in. Taehyung giggles, pure happiness as he dots kisses over Yoongi's cheeks and cheekbones and eyelids.
"I like you so, so much."
Yoongi’s grinning, his huge gummy smile that shows his tiny teeth, and Taehyung wants to bite at the apples of his cheeks, hold him forever, crawl into every piece of clothing Yoongi owns and make himself a home there. He’s never felt like this before, never, and it’s only been nine days.
“Can we go somewhere that isn’t right by the front door?” Yoongi asks, quiet, and Taehyung looks over his shoulder before nodding. They’re quick to make their way to the workroom, Taehyung’s sacred little space. There, Yoongi grins again, and pulls Taehyung to him for another kiss, square on the lips, sort of chaste but lingering.
“If it wasn’t obvious, I like you too. But I changed my mind about something,” Yoongi says once they’ve pulled apart, and Taehyung immediately pulls back, eyes widening in horror and dread filling his stomach. However, Yoongi just laughs, all fond, and reaches out to curl his hands in the fabric of his hoodie, just over Taehyung’s hips. “I want this back.”
Relief floods through Taehyung’s veins, washing through his whole body. He relaxes immediately, leaning forward until he’s bent over Yoongi, forehead pressed to Yoongi’s temple. “That was mean,” he chides softly. Yoongi just chuckles again.
“Well, thieving is illegal, so you’re in more trouble than I am,” he responds, and then his hands slide under the hoodie, and Taehyung shivers at the sudden contact, even through the button-down he’s still wearing underneath. “C’mon, off.”
Yoongi’s voice has taken on a gruffier quality there, like he’s suddenly impatient, and it’s enough for Taehyung to wordlessly help take the hoodie off. He’s a lot colder now, goosebumps crawling down his back, but the important thing is that even without it, Taehyung doesn’t feel bereft of that feeling of - of belonging. Because Yoongi is touching him, and looking at him, all intense and flushed in the cheeks, and he’s definitely wearing highlighter and some eyeshadow, and he looks so gorgeous Taehyung hurts inside just looking at him.
A moment later, Yoongi’s spreading the hoodie down on the floor, between the plants and the mannequins. It’s like - it’s like he has a plan, but Taehyung doesn’t really know yet what it is. What he knows is that his heart is beating in his throat and he’s half-hard in his slacks and he keeps on standing there while Yoongi turns back to look at him.
“Taehyung-ah,” he says simply, and Taehyung is tipping forward to kiss him again, like a parched man finding an oasis. This time it’s not chaste at all, it’s a lot more tongue and a lot more hands and pent-up feelings bursting through to the surface. Taehyung pulls back with a panting breath when he feels Yoongi’s fingers at the top button of his shirt, undoing it deftly.
“Yoongi-hyung, I -” the words suddenly escape him, a noise escaping him when Yoongi undoes another button and then leans in, pressing his lips to the skin right under Taehyung’s Adam’s apple.
“Yes, Taehyungie?” Yoongi asks, mouth right against Taehyung, breath so warm.
“Hnnng, hyung, if we ruin the suit you’re wearing I will never forgive myself.”
Yoongi steps back, his eyes dark when he looks up at Taehyung. He takes a deep breath, and smiles, making Taehyung feel like he could fall in love in nine days.
“Well, we can’t have that, now, can we?” And with that, he’s carefully shrugging his jacket off, putting it on a mannequin, and then he’s starting to open the buttons on his shirt, one, two, three, before Taehyung surges forward and does two things at once: one, he falls to his knees, and two, he takes Yoongi’s hands in his, halting his movements. Yoongi looks surprised as his gaze shift down, but Taehyung just breathes hard, his whole body feeling like a spring ready to be released.
“Let me. Can I?” He’s pleading. This is his job, this is something that, possibly, he’s dreamed about. Yoongi’s lips part, but he doesn’t say anything. He just nods, and Taehyung releases his hands, instead moving to his cuffs. He undoes the first carefully, reaching up to slide the cufflink in the pocket of Yoongi’s jacket on the mannequin, and then he folds the sleeve up to expose Yoongi’s wrist, skin so pale, veins visible underneath. Taehyung’s eyes close when he leans in to kiss the spot.
Yoongi's breath catches, an ever so gentle gasp that resonates through Taehyung's entire being. He wants to hear all of Yoongi's sounds, wants to keep them close and safe, wants to add to his collection every day, wants to learn everything there is about this fascinating man, wants to be there to see how he changes as time goes on. Yoongi's pulse beats beneath his mouth, strong and steady, a little fast. It sends a sweet thrill through Taehyung, this evidence that Yoongi is just as affected. He looks up, relishing the haziness between them, the warmth of intimacy that is watching Yoongi through his lashes, seeing Yoongi suck his lower lip into his mouth, eyes wide and dark as he looks at Taehyung on his knees before him. A jolt of heat curls in his gut at the thought of their positions, having Yoongi so close, close enough that Taehyung could lean in and nuzzle at the crease of his groin, feel the top of his thighs flex against his face - amongst other things.
He wonders if this is too soon. Should they wait? He doesn’t want to rush this. Wants to woo Yoongi properly, to take him on dates and hold his hand. Wants to kiss him and kiss him, at his front door after he has walked him home, then again pressed against the other side of it sometime later, when he is allowed inside. He wants to have all the firsts as a couple, can't wait for them.
But here Yoongi is. Heated. Taehyung glances down - yes, definitely aroused. He looks at Taehyung like he is the only person in the world, certainly the only one Yoongi wants here like this, and it makes his heart sing. He traces a smoky vein with his tongue and they both inhale sharply; just like that, the urgency is back like it never left, like Taehyung took a moment outside it but it was always waiting for him to plunge right back into this aching need.
"Yoongi," he says, the name breathy against the back of his throat. "I want you. I want to put my mouth on you. Can I? Do you want to?"
Yoongi surprises him by moaning out loud, swaying like his knees can't hold him any more. He braces his other hand on Taehyung's shoulder, fingers digging in for balance.
"Are you kidding me?" his voice is so low and raspy, pure sex. "Taehyung, I want you any possible way I can have you."
Taehyung's fingers stumble on the button of Yoongi's flies for the first time in his memory. It's not nerves, though; it's wanting it so badly his whole body is shaking. The smell of Yoongi's arousal hits him hard, mouth going slack and wet at the same time.
"Fuck," he mutters, pressing it over Yoongi's covered cock. It twitches in time with Yoongi's whimper, a delicious, delicate sound that Taehyung wants to swallow. He drags his tongue over the covered head and relishes the sudden dig of Yoongi's fingers, the way they climb into the hair at the nape of his neck in the next moment. It's all so hot that he feels like he is going to sweat straight through his button-down, but he'll be fucked if he's letting go now.
Yoongi's cock is firm and thick, growing longer by the minute. Taehyung gently slips his fingers into the band of Yoongi's underwear - tight-fitting so it doesn't ruin the line of the suit - and draws it down and over, until he can hook it under Yoongi's balls. The rush of taste and sound is a one-two punch that sends him reeling; he feels like he is watching this from outside his body, seeing both Yoongi's beautiful face slacken and his own worshipful expression as he takes him in his mouth.
“Jesus fuck,” Yoongi moans, looking straight into Taehyung’s eyes, like he’s transfixed. Taehyung slides his lips down and doesn’t break eye contact either, just takes more of Yoongi in his mouth slowly, tasting every inch, his tongue flat against the underside. He makes a noise himself, breathing hard through his nose, his own body tense with how still he’s being, knees digging into the floor. It’s an anchor, for which Taehyung is grateful - he feels like he could be floating otherwise. Yoongi’s hand moves from Taehyung’s hair to his cheek, fingers pressed there a tiny bit, enough to make Taehyung moan, too.
That makes Yoongi's breath hitch; he throws his head back, baring the delicious column of his throat. His face looks different from this angle, jawline sharp and begging for Taehyung's mouth. Taehyung loses himself a little in thinking about marking him, a dark spot the shape of his lips proclaiming to all that Yoongi is taken, his to care for and make happy. He sucks a little harder, suddenly wanting to see Yoongi lose his cool completely, wanting to make him feel good enough to fall apart. Yoongi's small, breathy ah, ah-s are killing him; he curls his hands around the backs of Yoongi's thighs and pulls him in harder, the head lodging into the back of his throat. Yoongi damn near wails, shaking all over.
"Tae, I'm gonna - Tae"
Taehyung just sucks harder, wanting to feel every second of Yoongi's surrender. It doesn't take long. Maybe it's the tension that has been thickening all week, or the emotions they both have invested in each other, but Yoongi goes hard and fast, spilling into Taehyung's mouth with a gasp of relief. Taehyung swallows him down the best he can, trying to look up and see his face. The angle is bad but he delights in the flush that is travelling all the way down Yoongi's chest, the little that he can see through the open v of his shirt, the rest still covered, like a secret only for Taehyung to discover. The fingers in Taehyung's hair flex again and again, like Yoongi is trying hard not to pull. They're going to have to talk about how Taehyung doesn't mind that at all, the effect it usually has on him. They're going to have to talk about so many things. The thought is not so much worrying as exciting, exhilarating. It feels so good to know that they both want to be there for that.
"Tae," Yoongi says, having caught his breath. His voice is deep and raspy. It makes Taehyung's own cock jerk in his pants - and oh, yeah. He's still extremely very hard and needs a hand on him as soon as physically possible. He reaches down to palm himself, letting out a whine of relief.
Yoongi's knees buckle; it's all Taehyung can do to catch his fall and help him to the floor. "Tae," he says again, more urgent but languid still. His big hands curl around Taehyung's face and bring him in for a slow, thorough kiss. His tongue slides and loops across Taehyung's in a move so sensuous that Taehyung gasps, hand back on himself with more intent. He needs to come, he needs it now.
Yoongi seems to work out what he's doing because his long, nimble fingers lace through his and curl over as much as he can reach of Taehyung's erection.
"Oh god, wait, wait," Taehyung whimpers, shifting his grip to make quick work of the fastening of his trousers and push them down far enough for his cock to spring free. Yoongi makes a satisfied noise that does something swoopy to Taehyung's insides, and then his hand is back, skin to skin this time, and Taehyung nearly whites out with how good it feels.
The lack of urgency from earlier is all but gone; under the darkening sky, the night gaining ground, Taehyung gasps and moans and buries his face in the crook of Yoongi’s neck as he thrusts his hips up into the hold Yoongi has on him. He moves faster and faster, precome easing the slide, Yoongi’s hand warm and knobbly and feeling perfect on Taehyung’s erection, his thumb swiping over the head on the upstroke, and Taehyung just wants to climb inside Yoongi, hands gripping at his shirt, legs trembling.
He feels, more than anything, when one of the buttons on Yoongi’s shirt pops, and then he hears it bounce on the floor, rolling away from them. He pulls back, mildly horrified, touches the broken thread for a second before his fingers slip past and inside Yoongi’s shirt, finding skin and earning himself a soft noise. Taehyung looks up, meeting Yoongi’s eyes; he surges forward, their lips meeting again. Taehyung’s thoughts all completely vanish as sensations take over, as the feeling of Yoongi’s hand on his cock takes precedence over everything else.
He moans helplessly against Yoongi’s lips, and Yoongi seems to want to swallow the sounds eagerly, like he wants to keep them for himself. They pull back for a breath, foreheads pressed together; Taehyung closes his eyes tight as he keeps on rolling his hips, fucking up into the tight circle of Yoongi’s fingers.
“Tae, Tae, c’mon, come for me,” Yoongi murmurs, and his voice is more than enough to send shivers down Taehyung’s spine, make him move faster, one hand dropping to wrap around Yoongi’s wrist, keeping him exactly where he is. Taehyung’s close and he knows it, biting down on his lip hard as he lets out keening noises, higher-pitched than is his usual, and with a final swipe of Yoongi’s thumb over the head of his cock, he comes.
He shakes as he spills over Yoongi’s hand and his nice white shirt and a tiny bit on his pants, too. He shakes as Yoongi holds him, and Yoongi keeps holding him as he blinks his eyes open. He shakes at the look on Yoongi’s face, the affection, the spark of pride, the certainty. About what, he can't know, but he hopes that his suspicions are correct. He slumps against Yoongi's chest, chin hooking over his sturdy shoulder. Yoongi looks dainty at first sight, but beneath the loose clothes, there is a solid frame that Taehyung instinctively knows he can lean on. Yoongi's arms wind around him still, one of them - Taehyung hopes its the clean one, but his shirt is pretty ruined anyway, so it's not like it matters - kneading soothingly over the small of his back. Taehyung presses his mouth against the bare side of Yoongi's neck and lets himself stay there a while.
Eventually, Yoongi shifts and lets out a small grunt of discomfort. "Tae, I really like this. I think we should do a lot more of it. But I gotta get up or my knees will mutiny tomorrow."
Taehyung giggles lightly and pulls back. Yoongi looks so charmingly dishevelled, shirt open and hair a mess, so beautiful that Taehyung can't stop staring at him. Yoongi looks right back, looks like he's thinking some of the same things too.
Taehyung pushes himself to standing and offers a hand to help Yoongi up too. Yoongi takes it, stands with a groan. His knees click loudly, and he winces. Taehyung can't help but lean in and kiss the frown from his mouth.
"If I say I'm sorry, will you hit me?" he teases.
"Probably," Yoongi says dryly. He lets go of Taehyung's hand and looks down at himself with a grimace. "I expect you have a good dry cleaner on call?"
"Oh, sure. Wanna leave your clothes here? I'll get them taken care of."
"You just want to get me naked." Yoongi grins.
Taehyung grins back, shows some teeth. "I mean, you're not wrong. But also I want to be the only one seeing you naked, so I'll also lend you some clothes to get you home."
"My hero," Yoongi murmurs, smile going soft, and Taehyung has to kiss him again, so he does.
Eventually, Yoongi gets his hoodie back, to Taehyung's disappointment, and a pair of Taehyung's tracksuit pants on which he has to roll the legs up.
"Not a word," he says, eyes narrowed. Taehyung is so fond, he could die.
"My lips are sealed," he says, said lips twitching. Yoongi scrunches his nose at him. How can any man look so cute and so attractive at the same time? Taehyung doesn't know, but here Yoongi is, existing, so apparently it's possible.
"Wanna come over? I don't live far, and I'm kind of not ready for tonight to be over."
Yoongi looks at him for a long minute, before he gives him a gummy smile. "Neither am I. So yes. Please."
Taehyung offers him a hand; Yoongi takes it without hesitation, palms aligning and fingers intertwining. Together, they walk out into the falling night.
;;
Leaning his chin on his hand, elbow on the table, Taehyung sighs dreamily, trying his best not to make it too obvious. He’s in the back of a large class, watching as Yoongi - no, wait, Professor Min does his thing in the front, explaining melodic structure to his students who all look as taken with him as Taehyung is. Which is understandable.
But Taehyung is the one who gets to take Professor Min Yoongi home after his day of classes. He’s the one currently wearing Professor Min Yoongi’s favorite hoodie, an overlong black, shapeless garment with the letters ‘FG’ on the front. He’s the one surrounded so completely by Professor Min Yoongi’s very essence.
Despite never having taken a class about music, aside from some saxophone lessons when he was younger, Taehyung finds himself completely captivated. Maybe it’s the animated way Yoongi talks, or the fact that there’s obvious passion in every word he says, or how he smiles as he takes questions, never dismissing any.
It’s just - a sight, and it’s a beautiful sight, and Taehyung follows through the class without missing a moment, barely daring to blink throughout the whole thing. When Yoongi dismisses his students, Taehyung hangs back, sitting on a desk while he waits for Yoongi to collect his things and grinning brightly when Yoongi shuffles over to him.
Since they started doing this - since the beginning of their relationship - it’s been all too easy for both of them to completely fall into each other every chance they get. Like right now, Taehyung shifts his legs apart a little and Yoongi just slots in between them, leaning in to press his forehead to Taehyung’s neck, hands dropping to Taehyung’s thighs just as Taehyung wraps his arms around Yoongi and pulls him ever closer. A closed circuit between the two of them, fueled by how easily they fell for each other, too.
“Didn’t know you’d come today,” Yoongi says by way of greeting, and Taehyung chuckles, moving enough to press a kiss to the tip of Yoongi’s cute ear.
“I’ll have you know, Professor Min Yoongi-ssi, that I closed shop early just for this. My boyfriend told me about a food market just a block down from his university, and I desperately want some hotteok.”
Yoongi makes a noise in the back of his throat, hands sliding up Taehyung’s thighs.
“And here I thought my boyfriend came all the way here just to try and seduce me in my workplace, just because I did it to him once.”
“N’aww, cute. But no, your boyfriend’s just hungry.”
Yoongi snorts, pulling back to look at Taehyung in the eyes for a moment. He leans in for a kiss, and Taehyung sighs into it, eyes fluttering closed as soon as Yoongi’s lips are on his. When they pull back, he hums gently.
“Maybe, after hotteok, we can come back here and you can lie me down on your desk, Professor Min.”
Yoongi groans, raising an eyebrow. "That's a thing, huh?"
"Maybe," Taehyung draws out, teasing but also kind of not. It's only been a couple of months since they met, and they're still learning, still exploring.
It's wonderful.
"I don't know how I feel about getting fired because of indecent behaviour in my place of work. My boss isn't quite as understanding as yours."
Taehyung pouts and Yoongi sighs, weak for it in a way Taehyung finds delightful and so very reassuring.
"How about we go for that hotteok, and then I take you home and eat you out instead? That sound worth the disappointment?"
Taehyung laughs over the stab of heat in his belly. "I guess," he says, leaning in to kiss Yoongi again.
They both know it's not about the place Yoongi works, or a need to placate Taehyung's wilder side. The truth is simple: Taehyung would go and do anything Yoongi wants, because it's Yoongi asking.
"Ready to go, baby?" Yoongi asks now, giving Taehyung's hand a squeeze.
"Yes," Taehyung says, without a hint of hesitation. This time, he knows exactly what he's confirming.