Archive of Our Own ^beta

Lofi beats to chill to were never really Namjoon's thing until he found Gloss.

Namjoon finds him in early 2018 when he’s two steps away from a panic attack from sleep deprivation and on hour thirty-nine of being awake, nearly out of his own mind with stress related insomnia. He can’t turn his brain off, can’t keep from repeating the same lyrics over and over until it’s just white noise between his ears. None of it makes sense, he isn’t getting the lyrics right. The latest rap he’s been working on for nearly a month still sounds like something from when he was seventeen and hungry for success, cutting his teeth on underground rap battles and trying to look tough and like he knew what he was doing and wasn’t just a stupid teenager with too much to prove. It never takes him this long on a song, he’s never this stuck. The words are always the easy part, it’s the melody that's always hardest for him, getting the sound to match up with his message, but it was words that were finally failing him. Maybe he’d hit his peak, maybe he was washed up at twenty-three.

It was on that cliff of anxiety, one foot already off and ready to send him down to the crashing whirlpool of dread and depression that he’d thought he’d finally crawled out of after years of therapy and finally “making it” as his friends and family kept telling him, when he found him. Gloss. He isn’t really sure how he got himself scrolling around the depths of youtube but there’s a channel he likes that always has interesting new music from unknowns. Maybe he was looking for what the new kids were doing. At first the name nearly made him turn away, who called themselves Gloss? But then he remembered he’d started the rap game as a baby faced high school kid calling himself Rap Monster talking about his automatic dick and he quietly shuts his own mouth. Pot and kettle and all that. Besides, there’s no real hint that it’s a guy, could be a girl, could be neither, Namjoon needs to stop assuming; he’s better than that. Or at least he hopes he is.

Then the song actually plays.

Quiet piano, hushed rain noise. It’s melancholy but then the beat clicks in, a snare and a deep bass kick, a filter that sounds like crackling static and what might have once been someone humming. The piano continues, keys dancing up, off the mids and into the high notes, almost playful in how they climb and tink below the steady snap kick, the filter like an old radio, like he’s listening from a long way away.

Physically he’s on his living room floor because he’s depressed but his therapist keeps telling him to get some sun and biking seems too difficult, so the afternoon sun through his tall windows seemed like enough. The shadows of his over abundance of plants dance around as the light slowly shifts and he digs deeper into Gloss’ back catalogue on soundcloud. It’s all very melancholy but nostalgic in a way Namjoon, with all his big brain and all his poetry, can’t really explain. It’s like he’s a teenager on his grandma’s porch back in Ilsan. He’s in highschool pretending he’s not in love with a boy. He’s in college doing double course work online while managing his music career and doubling up as a production assistant to network. Piano features heavily and there’s a lot of natural noise, radio static, rain, the murmur of people that teleports Namjoon off his living room floor and into the old book store he likes to sit in. Traffic noise brings him back to Tokyo on his first performance overseas, a sold out show. The titles are the same as the music, always a little long, always a little strange, just enough to dial real deep and specific into the feeling the music already gives.

“You Are What You Love, Not What Loves You” sits right next to “Still Life” and they both seem right in different ways.

Two hours and a lot of lofi beats later and that knot in Namjoon’s chest had eased up and the insomnia finally settled and before he could even really think about it he was curled up and asleep on the living room floor, long shadows curling around his body. A shelter of white noise and piano keys.

When he wakes up several hours later, the sun replaced by city neons and car headlights reflected off the buildings further down he’s achey, but settled. With a new lease on life thanks to a few restful hours of sleep in him Namjoon makes a cup of ramyeon, shoots back two redbull, and finishes his new song somewhere around three before going back to bed. He sleeps like a baby. After that it just becomes a habit, he always turns on Gloss’ music when he’s got that stressed out knot threatening to pull too tight and crack his rib in. He buys his entire catalogue, has alerts set up for when he posts new stuff, follows him on his private twitter.

Gloss isn’t super popular in the grand scheme of things, lofi beats aren’t exactly mainstream outside of youtube’s “Lofi Beats To Chill To” girl. But he’s popular enough. Namjoon hit two million followers recently but Gloss is sitting comfortably around ten thousand with steady fan activity on his stuff. He isn’t very active on twitter, just posting samples he’s working on, sometimes he retweets other musicians he likes, a lot from a guy who seems to be his friend and the photographer behind all his aesthetic song covers. Namjoon still turns on notifications for when Gloss posts, because he’s comfortable enough to realize he’s a little bit obsessed. There’s something charming about the fact that Gloss seems to be Korean but his bio is half Korean, half English and all his posts are always doubled to try to include his international fans. A first post in Korean, a second reply always translated over. It’s a little messy, the tenses are often mismatched like it’s been shot through google translate then adjusted, but it’s cute. Namjoon catches himself smiling way too often at the few interactions Gloss has with fans when they thank him for his English, letting him know he’s getting better. Sometimes he posts vague tweets looking for the right word that he can’t translate well and two days later after a few thousand replies there’s another track up on soundcloud titled just right. Namjoon’s another hour of looping the same two minute fourteen second song or another aesthetic photo of nameless hands on a keyboard from making a stan account for a lofi hip hop artist.

He’ll accept it only because Gloss’ music helps him sleep so well.

Over his career he’s met a few producers that specialize in melody, a few lofi artists here or there, some EDM and trap DJs. but none have as much control of a beat as this Gloss guy does. It all sounds professional, even his so-called experimental stuff. According to his twitter he makes a dozen beats a week, just uploads the ones that work out, keeps a few for a “side project” as he calls it. Namjoon is overflowing with lyrics and scribbles lines at random at all hours of the day just so he can remember them later, but even he doesn’t write that much music and it’s his fucking job.

Another song gets posted and he gets four different alerts on his phone in the middle of a meeting with his manager, who snorts out a laugh and looks more amused at Namjoon floundering to turn his phone off than mad at the interruption. Namjoon is always professional, always makes himself look more put together than he is in these meetings despite how his manager knows his habit of breaking half the shit he touches.

“Girlfriend?”

“What?” Namjoon looks up, feeling caught. Like a teenager caught passing notes in class.

“Your phone. Girlfriend texting you? You have time off coming up soon right? She excited?”

“Oh! Oh no, no girlfriend.”

“Boyfriend? I don’t care either way but if you’re dating I should know so we can get paperwork signed. NDA and all that.” He pulls out his tablet to tap out a note of some sort. It’s kind of soothing actually, how business-like he views Namjoon’s love life. Soothing in a terrifying kind of way.

“I’m not dating anyone. Just an alert I had set. Forgot about it, but it's not important,” Namjoon assures, laughing awkwardly and trying to steer the conversation back to his own music so he doesn’t end up waxing poetic about Gloss.

It’s probably the longest two hours of his life before he’s set free and released back into the wild like a freshly tagged raccoon to scurry to his favorite cafe to buy an americano and a slice of fruit tart. The staff are always polite enough to pretend they don’t know him. Or maybe they just don’t, it is Gangnam, they probably see more famous people, actual idols or whatever. On the way home he swings through one of the open street markets he always passes and grabs a container full of tteok-beokki and a couple rolls of gimbap. It’s better than microwaved ramyeon and after his last incident with his stove he's trying to avoid cooking if at all possible. Eventually he would have to learn to cook but he lives in Seoul and coupang is just so easy to use that he keeps putting it off. It's like the driving thing, why drive when he lives in a city with reliable public transit and he enjoys biking?. The rest of the walk home is slower despite how his food is going to go cold because he's too busy slipping in his airpods, his third pair in a year but the longest lasting pair yet, and clicking around to find Gloss’ latest release.

By the time he gets to his building, up the elevator, and keys in his door code, he’s listened to it nearly a dozen times and counting. It’s short, not even three minutes, but it feels longer. It feels lonely. Lonely in the way Namjoon feels, a deep aching kind that he can’t explain to his friends without feeling bad about it. He's still in his work clothes, shoes tossed across the entryway instead of in his shoe rack where they belong, but he's already hunched over his notebook with a pen in one hand and his chopsticks in the other. If his mother saw him she'd scold him for his manners, for how crooked his chopsticks are, for working at the dinner table. Luckily they haven't seen each other outside a facetime call in a while.

The lyrics come easier than he expects and before he realizes it he's got a first verse and a bridge set to Gloss' song. It feels weird. Not a bad weird, but a guilty weird. He should probably ask first, his phone getting pulled over so he can tap at twitter while still shoveling rolls of gimbap into his mouth. It takes an hour to get a response once he sends the first message.

Getting excited, or at least vaguely interested, permission seems to kick the muse he already had into overdrive and he scrambles to his old buried soundcloud from high school. Runch Randa isn’t the best name, or a good one but he also named himself Rap Monster before changing it in the wake of finally leaving his edgy boy days behind, so it isn’t the worst either. Thank god no one had been able to link him to the old name and he deleted all his old shit years ago when he and his manager first went through his online history to clean it before debut. The blood pack he and Zico made to never talk about their old cringy rapping days lives on it seems. He cleans it up a little more, adds a new profile picture that looks vague enough, just his back while on his bike. Seokjin probably took it the last time he was able to drag his favorite hyung out around the river. Seokjin was busy with his acting career these days but he tried really hard to be there for Namjoon.

They went back a while, he still felt responsible, still called Namjoon at least once a week to make sure he’d eaten, often ordering food to deliver to him whenever he remembered and knew Namjoon was home. In the beginning it had been embarrassing, felt like taking advantage, but Seokjin kept saying even if he didn’t have his acting and modeling career money he would still be well off with her parents. Would still spoil his favorite dongsaeng.

“Let someone take care of you Namjoon-ah, it’s ok to lean on someone sometimes,” Seokjin had once said over fried chicken covered in too much sauce at Namjoon’s kitchen table. The most profound pieces of advice in his life often came to him over the worst food.

He writes feverishly over the weekend, using some time in the studio on Monday when he’s still technically supposed to be taking a break to record it on a good mic. The old one he keeps at home isn’t great, needs an upgrade, but he never got around to it because he had the studio right there. Maybe he should finally get around to it. Luckily he finishes recording without his manager catching wind that he's working on his break time, since the last time he did he broke his pinky and the label has been pretty strict with his recovery time ever since. The song comes together quickly, there isn’t a lot of rearranging he needs to do, just layering vocals like muscle over the solid bones of Gloss’ melody. While he tackles a lot in his lyrics, capitalism, depression, love and loss, he tackles them in metaphor, in distant concepts. Writing over the new melody lets him crack open his chest, put his heart down on paper and wrap it in a careful piano score and synthesizer like wax paper over raw meat. He pitches his voice lower, into the register he rarely uses in public in an attempt to mask his normal flow and tenor and it’s done, processed, and posted by Tuesday.

A quick link shot off to Gloss in their twitter DMs is the last step before he promptly forgets about “Untitled Loss” because he’s got promotions to plan for and a mixtape to work on. Then he comes home and opens up his phone again.

“So his name is Gloss?”

“Well his stage name is I guess,” Namjoon shrugs, slurping up another mouthful of noodles while Jimin nods across the table for him.

Aside from a few producers and some of the other rappers he’d done collabs with in the past like Zico and Nell, Namjoon didn’t have many friends in the music industry. As outgoing as he could be he was still awkward and had more trouble navigating a conversation than he did an acceptance speech. Jimin was an exception to that rule because they'd worked for the same record label since they debuted and Jimin said he was cool for some reason. They’d both changed from the angry young men they were so many years ago but they were as close as they could be without actually dating. One disastrous drunken kiss in 2014 was all they needed. They didn’t hang out nearly enough recently, both of them busy with their own work, him being a popular rapper, Jimin growing his career as a popular idol. But instead of talking about what he’d been up to recently, for the last twenty minutes he’d been filling Jimin in on his latest obsession: Gloss. Originally it started as the music but with some gentle teasing it was easy enough for Jimin to get the information out of him. Yeah. He had a crush on an anonymous soundcloud lofi artist.

“It’s not the worst name. You have anything else? What he looks like? Does he sing in his stuff?” Jimin mumbles while he sips at his beer. The restaurant was low key, a little out of the way and the staff were happy to quietly ignore them both as they chatted over jajangmyeon and cheap beer.

“No. I know how old he is, he’s at least a year older, he lives in Seoul I think, he takes pictures in the city to post on his twitter, but otherwise no. He’s a mystery and it’s horrible and I’m a fucking cliche. It could only be worse if he was a soundcloud rapper instead of just a beats guy.”

“It’s cute though, you rarely ever get this hung up on anyone,” Jimin giggles, reaching across the table with his chopsticks to grab a slice of cucumber from Namjoon’s bowl.

“Eat your own Jimin-ah,” Namjoon complains. There’s no real bite in it, Jimin was always a food thief, usually just staring at people’s food until they gave in and fed him. His puppy dog eyes were legendary.

“You said you traded songs with him? Let me hear,” Jimin says, holding out one of his hands expectantly for Namjoon’s phone.

It’s useless to resist, and besides, the song is good. Maybe not the next number one hit, but it’s still good, solid music and Namjoon is confident enough in himself most days to know he’s above average. Or at least Gloss said he was good and he’d been riding that high for a week now. After digging his airpods out of his pocket he queues up the song and passes his phone and buds over to Jimin, going back to eating while he waits. They’re quiet, Jimin closing his eyes and sipping his beer while Namjoon chews on good noodles, the song playing twice before Jimin seems content with it.

“It’s good hyung. You used your deep voice, I like it. And this beat is nice, softer than stuff you make, did you play with the arrangement?”

“Not really, I added a little high hat to the bridge to play with the piano keys, but otherwise it’s all Gloss. He’s good.”

Jimin nods, shovels a mouth full of noodles in and lets the song play a third time before he finally hands the earbuds and phone back over.

“I can see why you have a crush. You always did have a competency kink,” Jimin grins.

“A what?” Namjoon says, flushing.

“You like people who know what they’re doing, that's why you think I’m cute.”

“Jimin-ah everyone thinks you’re cute,” Namjoon groans, but he doesn’t disagree. He isn’t wrong per say, he does like people who are good at whatever they’re doing and Jimin is one of the best dancers he’s seen and the most hardworking guy he’s had the pleasure of working with in the past. Maybe that was why he was crushing on a guy on the internet so quick. Gloss knew his way around music composition better than Namjoon did and on twitter at least he seemed nice, humble in the way he interacted with his followers.

Jimin just shrugs, leaning back in his chair.

“You gonna write him another song?”

“I might. He said he’d write me another one to mess around with since he liked the first one. It’s fun, you know? Doing music that I’m not really contractually obligated to do. I mean, I love the job, it’s the dream, but sometimes it’s nice to do it just for fun without thinking how I can fit it into the next album or if it could be a single, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that,” Jimin nods. If anyone would an idol would. “I think you should. You seem really happy about it and I like it when you’re happy hyung.”

Namjoon just blushes, smiles with his dimples and nods. The conversation turns to what Jimin has been up to, complaining a little about the label, getting the latest idol gossip whispered between them like little old ladies when their bowls have been cleared but they’re still sipping at heineken bottles and giggling between themselves at the back of the restaurant. Jimin is uncharacteristically nice and doesn’t keep teasing Namjoon over his crush, just lets him sit with the knowledge of it and talks about other things. They take too many pictures of each other until they can manage to decide on which ones to upload and tag each other in that won’t cause a national firestorm of people thinking that it’s anything more than two old friends getting together after a while for drinks on a weeknight.

It isn’t until Namjoon gets home, crawling out of the taxi tired but thankfully not drunk, that he bothers to check his phone for anything. There’s a new Gloss notification and he can’t get his shoes off fast enough before crawling onto the fluffy carpet in his living room and laying on it. Anywhere else would probably be comfortable but he’s warm and silly with a good night out and maybe half a beer shy of being actually drunk instead of happily buzzed. Besides, laying on the floor he can look up at all the plants that hang by the windows and sit on nearly every flat surface of his apartment. Like a little forest of his own creation. Couldn’t keep pets, he was too busy and his only family dog didn’t ever like him much, but he could keep the fuck out of a houseplant. There’s a new song, not just a twitter post, and he fumbles around to read the announcement post about it.

“A thought, A dream, A memory.”

It’s not as melancholy as a lot of Gloss’ work, there’s a nostalgic feel to it, like listening to music on the porch. A droning cicada, a plinking little piano melody layered with bass and more synth than the last song. Hopeful maybe, in an unsure way. It’s a little wiggly, a hard to predict melody that still somehow fits together just right. Namjoon rolls over onto his back, tempts fate by holding his phone up over his face.

Namjoon drops his phone on his face, sends a couple strings of nonsense and key smashing before he manages to roll over and get control of it again. Gloss tells him to go to bed for real and Namjoon huffs, but does. He brushes his teeth to get the alcohol out of his mouth, does his nightly skincare because knowing he didn’t would summon Seokjin to kick down his door in the night and murder him, and pulls on his comfiest summer pajamas. Under the hum of his aircon he curls up in his blankets and puts the new track on repeat again, letting the phantom of piano keys lull him to sleep. Dreams rarely find him but he still wakes up with the ghost of a feeling, the phantom touch of delicate hands and hushed white noise.

It takes two days to write the next song, recording it between work on the next album, the whole time daydreaming about Gloss and what he might look like, what he might sound like. They message back and forth during the day more often, just little bits of conversation, little asides of their day. Namjoon sends him a picture of cats he sees on the walk to and from the studio, careful not to include street signs or anything too revealing, careful not to catch his reflection, and Gloss sends pictures of food. He posts the next song and he gets the same reaction, excited interest, late night talks about music and lyricism and composition. Gloss sends him links to other smaller artists he likes and Namjoon recommends poetry and books he’s reading.

Gloss still calls him Bike-Boy and he still calls Gloss hyung and neither seem too keen to make the other change. Another song gets posted, another little riddle for him to piece words into. It’s probably the happiest he’s been in years and his therapist says whatever new hobby he’s been indulging in is good for him, keep doing it. She doesn’t press him to talk about it, accepts it when he just hedges around the topic with a vague “I’m writing music with a friend, for fun, not work,” and nothing else. Something about going back to what he loved about music, not just producing like a machine. Returning it to something he loves, not something he has to do. It reflects everywhere, in little ways, his next album is coming together better, he’s sleeping easier, he’s returning phone calls without needing two hours to psych himself up for it.

The anxiety is still there, he talks about it sometimes with Gloss during their late night talks, always when the sun goes down because they’re both night owls who work too much apparently. He talks about the empty pit in his chest, the wire that pulls too tight on his bones sometimes, Gloss talks about his own head, how it’s always too loud and sometimes he loses time, and he gets it.

They both get it.

They keep trading songs and Namjoon gets more bold with the changes he makes, fiddling with the sound, adding a layer here or there. Gloss sends him a line of lyrics, turns a metaphor the way Namjoon would never expect but never actually records himself singing or rapping them. He likes Namjoon’s voice better.

It goes on for months, back and forth, an almost conversation. Gloss always gives his beats long titles, vague and sparking the right image along with his melancholy piano, his use of rain, the murmur of voices layered deep under traffic and warbling bass notes. The titles start to turn though, almost questions and half statements, like he’s talking to Namjoon, and those are always the beats he takes. He layers his vocals over and posts them up for free with no fanfare to his old soundcloud. None of his fans have noticed or made the connection to Randa and RM. One of Gloss' fans is picking up the threads but a deep dive into stan twitter for an afternoon shows that the theory isn't gaining ground, thank god.

The memes are good though.

Normally his own titles were always to do with the music, with his lyrics, but now they’re answers to a conversation he didn’t even know he was having. A conversation that meanders in directions he can’t predict. Gloss makes music that speaks of a deep unease, an unsettled heart and melancholy and Namjoon mirrors it, speaks of his own anxieties, his own insecurities in metaphor and vague words he rarely gets to use in his own work for the label.

Gloss posts “too far away but not far enough.”

Namjoon posts “homesick.”

Gloss posts “restless with unease, never enough time.”

Namjoon posts “lean into me”

Gloss posts “awake at  4:56am: a thought.”

Namjoon posts “tell me.”

Gloss sends him a twitter message the next day at two in the morning and they chat until well past morning, until Seoul has come back to life and sun paints long golden lines through the cracked open blinds of his apartment. All his plants slowly reach for daylight and Namjoon reaches for a boy he’s never met.

“Write me another song, Gloss,” he says, smiling as he types.

Gloss posts “we sleep at sunrise, golden, content.”

Namjoon posts "seoul."

Namjoon is falling in love with a boy he's never met who's name he doesn't know. A faceless, voiceless man across the internet who probably lives too far away and who he'll probably never meet. Summer finally dries out into fall and soon Seol is hushed in white and he and Gloss have been trading songs for months. His friends think it's a little cliche, a little romance drama, but they're happy he's happy. And he is. Gloss makes music that makes him happy no matter how melancholy it is. He never asks for anything, just gives him more music, talks to him at weird hours over twitter, makes dumb meme jokes with the straightest fucking delivery. 

It’s the middle of the week and he has a couple weird days off promotions of his latest album release to relax and work on the next track Gloss has sent when his phone blips. It takes a minute to rearrange his desk, gently moving his newest houseguest around until he can get his phone out from under the little calico. She wasn’t exactly in the plan but she did brighten up his week. Even if she had eaten into his wallet getting her maybe too many cat accessories. She’s small and her coat seems like it wants to be long but there’s some mats he couldn’t brush out yet, mostly white with little orange and brown blotches along her back. From some angles she looks pure white, from others like she has a little turtle shell.

The typing bubbles appear and disappear multiple times, Namjoon watching them carefully. He gently closes his laptop and gives his phone his whole attention. Sometimes Gloss takes a while to respond, but he doesn’t hesitate. Still unnamed cat stretches out across the top of Namjoon’s laptop to soak in the residual heat from working most of the afternoon while Namjoon paces around the living room. It takes a full ten minutes and Namjoon makes a cup of tea before Gloss finally finishes his thought.

Five minutes later he gets a call from an unknown number and realizes how big of a mistake this could have been. It’s his actual number and now it’s out there in the hands of the guy who’s name he doesn’t know and who calls him Bike-Boy.

“Hello?”

“Hey Bike Boy,” the voice murmurs. It’s deeper than he expects, the satoori a little slurred, a little wet. Gloss sounds familiar but through the phone and stress Namjoon can’t quite place the voice. Maybe it’s just because they chat so often, he’s just imagining it.

“Hey greasy-hyung,” Namjoon smiles, finally sitting down on his couch. “What’s wrong?”

“Less now. You sound nice. Your voice really is this deep huh?” Gloss asks and Namjoon hums, politely ignoring the wet snuffle on the other end of the line. “It’s just, it was a bad day, you know? I don’t have those much anymore but when I do it’s hard to get out of it. I took a melatonin, my doc gives me like, gummies? I took one and normally they just put me to sleep but I guess I was too worked up.”

Gloss sounds rubbed raw at all his edges, vowels mashed together and even without the satoori he sounds upset, worked up.

“Tell me about it, I’ll listen,” Namjoon says, voice pitched deep with the mumble his mom hates. He doesn’t use his natural voice often because of it, but it doesn’t feel like he has to pretend for Gloss. The line is quiet for a long while, just a couple sniffles and a short coughing almost-hiccup over the sound of fabric rustling.

“I listen to the songs you write over my beats to sleep. It helps sometimes.”

“And now?”

“This is better. But it’s like. It’s hard to explain? My skin feels...wrong. Too tight, like my bones will snap. Like growing pains but fuck if I’m growing any taller than this,” Gloss mumbles, has to stop to sniff again. There’s an edge to his voice that Namjoon doesn’t like.

“You wanna hear about my day instead? I can talk, if that helps, I can’t freestyle on command anymore.” That gets a laugh and Gloss coughs, gives the most pitiful little ‘yeah’ and Namjoon’s heart tightens up. “Alright, so like, I bike ride along the river, right? I mean I bike ride almost everywhere since I can’t drive, but I like to ride around the river. Always a lot of people to watch and it’s cold this time of year so it’s refreshing in a way that also kind of rips the skin off your face if you go too fast.”

“Did you wear a coat? You’ll catch a cold Bike Boy,” Gloss interrupts, sounds really wet and cracked open, but still worried for Namjoon.

“Namjoon.” A first name can’t hurt. Well, it could, it could hurt a lot, but in Namjoon’s defense he knows like four Jimins and one of them is a woman so it isn’t like first names are exactly unique in his industry. It’s that he’s almost never met another Namjoon. It gives him away, how many other rappers in the game are running around with his name and his particular brand of lyrics?

“Huh?”

“Just call me Namjoon.” There’s a long silence on the other end filled with little barely there hiccups. Sobs mostly.

“I can’t...give you mine yet,” Gloss says, watery and full of guilt.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to. I get it. I just don’t want you to call me Bike Boy while you’re sad. Still want to hear about my ride by the river?” Namjoon leans furner back onto his couch, getting comfortable. Unnamed cat crawls up with him to curl into the tiny space between his shoulder and the arm of the couch, nearly knocking the phone out of his hand before he switches it to the other side. The lights of the city hit his windows just right to cast long shadows from his little bonsai, branches reaching out to curl around him. One day he’d probably need to get blinds or something, but the windows were tinted enough and he had privacy curtains. It was fine. Wasn’t like he was close enough to the street for anyone to actually look in.

“Yeah, I’ll probably cry,” Gloss laughs, sniffling again.

“Go ahead if you need to, better than holding them in. But anyway, I like to bike by the river and it was cold out today, I did wear a jacket before you ask, and I’d been out most of the day. There’s some free time I’m enjoying these days so it seemed like a nice thing to do. Get some exercise and get out of the house, listen to the new song you made me to mess around with,” Namjoon pauses when he hears Gloss cough. “Are you laying down hyung?”

“No. Sitting at my desk.”

“Go lay down, you’ll be more comfortable.”

“I don’t want to fall asleep,” Gloss complains, his vowels all slurred together.

“That’s the point, to distract you so you can sleep. I’ll hang up if you start snoring. Come on I'll lay down too, like a slumber party,” Namjoon chuckles, pulling himself up and off the couch to head to his own bedroom.

“Do you snore Namjoon-ah? I don’t,” Gloss mumbles, complaining and still sounding a little off, conjested. There’s shifting in the background, fabric sliding around before a heavy sigh, a body hitting a mattress.

“Only a little,” Namjoon smiles, letting the cat trot into his room first before crawling into his own bed, laying on top of his blankets. “You lying down?”

“Yeah, legs are restless. Like ants.”

“Just listen to me instead. It was really cold out today, my hands still hurt from holding my bike handles. I forgot my gloves,” Namjoon pushes, waiting until he gets a little gravely hum. “So it was stupid cold and I’d been out most of the morning right? Figured I could get lunch, eat outside and watch the boats, then head home, right? Good plan.”

“What did you eat?” Gloss interrupts. Maybe he sounds fond. Maybe Namjoon is projecting.

“Just Lotteria. Nothing fancy. Did you eat today?”

“Ramyeon.”

“At least you ate. So I got a chicken burger and fries, right? I’m just enjoying my life, listening to lofi beats to chill to, literally chilling my ass off on a bench while watching the boats and this cat comes up.”

“A cat?” Gloss asks and Namjoon can hear the confusion.

“Yeah. A whole cat. A little calico cat. She crawled out of some bushes and cried until I gave her my fries. She kept me company while I finished my lunch at least. I tried to go home and she kept following my bike and it's like, it’s really cold right?” Namjoon struggles to explain his way out of bringing a cat home on a whim but it’s pretty weak, Gloss giving a soft chuckle. “So I finally stopped my bike and let her catch up and I put her in my jacket. And I have zero pet stuff at my place. I have too many plants and no cat stuff and I’m looking insane searching Naver in the middle of the bike path with a cat in my jacket trying to figure out if any of my plants will actually kill a cat.”

“Will they?”

“No, they’re all pretty harmless, thankfully. I mean I have a couple succulents but they have thorns and I had to put my pothos outside, but it wasn’t my favorite child anyway. You’re not supposed to pick favorites but the pothos is not the one. So I swung by a pet store, spent way too much money, and brought this cat home. Then I gave her a bath and we're still working on brushing the mats out of her fur. I have a cat now.”

Gloss hums quietly, like he’s drifted a little. Like he might fall asleep. He mumbles something and Namjoon strains to hear him through the phone speaker.

“What?” Namjoon asks, rolling onto his side. The cat crawls over his hip to stretch out against his chest.

“I said take a picture. ‘M tired.”

“If I show you a picture of her will you go to sleep?” Namjoon asks, bargaining. Gloss hums an affirmative and goes quiet again. A couple seconds of bending his arm at a weird angle to get the cat in frame of his phone’s camera without also getting too much of his fuzzy pajamas in and he sends a picture of the sleeping cat. “Ok I sent it. Hyung?”

There’s more silence on the other end, nothing but faint breathing against the phone mic. Namjoon smiles, thankful Gloss can’t see how fond he must look, and whispers a good night before hanging up the phone. Almost immediately after he’s sure the call has ended he turns away from his sleeping cat to scream into his own pillows. At least the cat doesn’t look too put out about it, just crawling up onto his back to turn into a little orb of fur at the dip of his spins.

“Thank you, these are trying times cat,” he sighs.

After that things don’t change between them much, thankfully. They still talk, sometimes Gloss leaves him a voice memo in his thick satoori, but mostly they keep texting. Now it’s just actual texting instead of twitter DMs. He sends more pictures of his new cat, still unnamed, and Gloss tells him he has a dog. A poodle who he calls his son. Gloss still calls him Bike Boy, but sometimes in a voice memo he’ll mumble ‘Namjoon-ah’ in his deep drawl and Namjoon isn’t allowed to listen to them in public anymore because he can only embarrass himself so many times in front of his friends and colleagues before it gets to be upsetting. There’s a group chat with his closest friends, just Seokjin, Jimin, and Taehyung, that’s dissolved into them fighting over what to name the cat. Namjoon ignores all of them because Gloss offers up Moni and Namjoon is sold.

“You know, cause Rap Mon, Moni, like a little version,” Gloss says in a voice memo he leaves and Namjoon has to go lay down on his floor again. At least now when he’s having an emotional crisis on the living room carpet he has company, Moni curling up against him.

She’s still nearly bald. When he’d first picked her up and bathed her he figured her coat would work itself out but after brushing one too many mats out of her long coat he took her to a groomer. They recommended a near shave to give her fur a chance to regrow properly now that she had a good diet and a home and he went with it because as much as he loved cats he’d never actually owned one. She came back to him shivering and cranky about having been at a groomer all day and he stopped by the closest pet store by his apartment to find a sweater  meant for a pomeranian to keep her warm on the walk home.

Then Jimin mentioned that baby clothes were also suspiciously cat sized.

Namjoon now knows that not only do baby clothes come suspiciously cat-sized, he also now knows that they make baby clothes to match adult people clothes and he’s pretty sure twitter thinks he’s secretly married with three kids at this point because he’s been to maybe one too many upscale boutiques out in Apgujeong. Gloss has teased him near constantly about how half of Moni’s sweaters match his own brand hoodies.

A couple weeks after first picking her up he’s become the cat dad who puts little sweaters on his cat because she’s still growing her hair back in and it’s officially winter and he’s afraid she’ll get cold because the heating vents in his floor aren’t the best regardless of how much he pays in rent. Moni, for her credit, doesn’t seem too bothered by it, just content to be warm and fed on expensive wet food and dry kibble  on a schedule that’s nearly so exact Namjoon can set a watch to it, humoring him by not moving much while he takes too many pictures of her doing absolutely nothing. He debates setting up an instagram for his cat and decides he’s finally lost it.

Namjoon does manage to get through some of his nighttime routine, brushing his teeth, taking a shower, making sure his laptop is off and nothing is laying around that Moni could knock off his desk before his phone dings again. Moni is already chirping at him from the hallway, cranky that he isn't already in bed. She’s still wearing the little hoodie with rabbit ears that he pulled on her several hours ago and he’d have to be a monster not to smile at her.

“I know it’s late Moni, just a minute,” he promises, picking his phone up to check. It’s actually a miracle he doesn’t drop his phone to crack another phone case.

Namjoon can’t keep the smile off his face when he falls into his couch, disturbing Moni across the room. It should probably bother him, that the guy he’s sort of been ass over teakettle for is actually the same guy that he’s been fighting for top spot in the charts with for years, but he isn’t. Yoongi is Gloss and Gloss is a guy that’s been kind and nothing but soft for Namjoon. It doesn’t take long once he’s horizontal to actually sleep and he almost forgets about it when he wakes up, like some weird fever dream induced by redbull and too much sodium from convenience store ramyeon, but then he checks his phone and Yoongi has sent him a selca of him and Holly. It’s a little blurry and dark, but there he is, with his little brown poodle cuddled up to his chest.

Two hours, a long shower spent half spacing out and debating his life choices, half smiling like an idiot because his crush likes him back and a little bit furiously jerking off because now he knows what his crush looks like growling into a mic. It’s a weird morning and by the time noon rolls around he’s gotten nothing done at the studio but staring at his phone before someone crashes into the frosted glass of his door.

Ah. Right.

“Hyung!” Taehyung yells, patting his hands against the glass, whole body probably leaving a print from how close he’s pressed up against it. A second pair of hands soon join in, smaller, covered in rings that click louder as they tap along with Taehyung’s. “Hyung, lunch!”

Right, he had a lunch date with the terrible twosome.

With a heavy sigh he gets up out of his chair to open the door for the pair before they start making too much of a racket. Jimin bends down to pick up plastic bags full of takeaway and they both shoulder past him to sit on their knees around the little tree stump table he rarely uses for anything other than a foot stool.

“What did you two get?” he asks, settling down with them as they unwrap the spoils of war. Gangnam restaurants during the lunchtime rush was a madhouse on a good day.

“Fried chicken. There’s that new place down by the 7-11 that opened up. They have a few different flavors so we got a couple different things,” Jimin grins, popping open boxes while Taehyung pulls out a stack of napkins and passes around takeout chopsticks. “I got you a coke, is that cool? I know you don't drink soda much.”

“Perfect, thanks. So you want to hear the weirdest thing?” Namjoon says, unable to contain the information that’s tipped his world a little off axis. It’s a good kind of tilt but he still feels a little off kilter. Jimin looks up at him with big round eyes and puffy lips in a serious little pout.

“Only always hyung.”

“You are sworn to secrecy,” Namjoon says, sipping on his soda and folding his legs.

Both his dongsaengs hold out their pinkies to promise and Namjoon snorts but humors them all the same, only stealing a couple seconds of comparing how short Jimin’s fingers are before locking them together.

“So I might be dating Agust D.”

It’s so weird to say and he and Yoongi have never really defined what they have but Namjoon likes to think in a little quiet voice that they’re sort of dating. That Yoongi would agree to it. Would let them kiss if they actually managed to meet. Maybe he could just walk down the, like, six blocks to Yoongi’s company building and get down on one knee and ask him kindly to go to dinner and maybe let Namjoon bend him over in the restaurant bathroom. Taehyung is the first to bark a laugh and Jimin starts giggling so hard he falls over and nearly kicks over his own lemonade.

“No fucking way.”

“No it’s true! You know Gloss?”

“Of course I do, that soundcloud beats guy you’re sort of in love with,” Jimin says, smirking, waiting for Namjoon to let him in on the joke but there’s nothing. Namjoon slurps his drink straw again, face calm as he holds eye contact with Jimin until he stops laughing. “No fucking way.”

“Prove it!” Taehyung says. He’s always been the biggest fan of Agust D and he looks a little offended despite being so curious. Namjoon just shrugs and unlocks his phone, finding the selca that Yoongi sent that morning and pulling it open to show Taehyung. It isn’t a public one, it’s one he just took to send to Namjoon and Taehyung knows that, they both know he knows that because everyone knows he used to run an Agust D fan account on twitter before he started his podcast and got too scared of someone doxxing his IP and finding out. “No fair! How did you get him first!?”

“Tae, honey, I’m right here,” Jimin frowns.

“Know your place. Like you wouldn’t say yes to GD,” Taehyung grumbles and Jimin frowns, eyebrows going up as he quietly nods. “I’m texting Jin-hyung.”

“Do you have to?” Namjoon whines, pulling a face.

“Yes, it’s an emergency friend meeting. Hyung has to know and judge your life choices just like he judges ours. Your days of being the favorite are over Kim Namjoon,” Taehyung frowns, tapping rapidly on his phone. Namjoon and Jimin watch, both stealing pieces of chicken while Taehyung frowns down at his phone. “Oh. Oh he said pause for like, five minutes.”

“Why?” Jimin asks, trying to climb over Taehyung’s shoulder to look at his phone. Taehyung dodges, hiding the screen.

“I dunno, but I’m not about to, like, disobey him. Hyung is scary when he uses the grown up voice.”

The trio all nod in agreement, each staring off for a moment as they remember the one time they’d seen Seokjin actually mad at someone. A stylist at a modeling campaign both he and Jimin had been booked at had made Jimin cry and while no one had heard what Seokjin actually said that made the guy go pale and apologize sincerely to Jimin, they’d also never seen the guy again either. In reality the managers probably made sure the guy wasn’t hired by the company again but the trio were all convinced that Seokjin had killed him. He was a big broad shouldered softy but terrifying when his voice went too sharp. They eat quietly, looking periodically at Taehyung’s phone, but as if on command five minutes later the door beeps and swings open, Seokjin panting in the doorway.

“You’re what!?”

“Hey hyung, come inside the soundproofing only works when the door is closed,” Namjoon greets, giving a little wave. Seokjin’s hair is a mess and his coat is off one shoulder, scarf barely hanging on like he’d just sprinted from wherever he was and then up the eight flights to Namjoon’s studio. Knowing his love for the dramatics he probably did. Despite how scrunched up Seokjin’s eyebrows are he still does close the door and slip off his sneakers before launching himself down on the floor and into Namjoon’s space, both hands holding Namjoon’s shoulders.

“Ok, one more time, you’re what!?”

Namjoon giggles in the face of Seokjin’s dramatics and fishes his phone out of his pocket again to show him the photo he got sent, Seokjin scrolling through the messages that Namjoon didn’t let the other two read.

“Oh this is gross, you’re both so soft,” Seokjin mumbles, handing the phone back.

“Hyung, how did you get here so fast?” Jimin asks, passing over his lemonade to share. Seokjin takes a couple sips before settling on the floor with the rest of them properly, slipping off his long khaki peacoat.

“I was in the neighborhood because I had a meeting this morning. When Tae messaged me I was just like two blocks over about to head home. You two haven’t talked about meeting yet, right?” Seokjin turns back to Namjoon and suddenly all eyes are on him and he’s just sitting there with spicy fried chicken in his mouth. Namjoon shakes his head instead of saying anything because he’s still busy trying to chew without spitting. “Are you going to?”

“I mean, yeah, I guess? Right now we both kind of like what we’re doing. There’s no pressure. But I think we’re both on the same page as far as like, we like each other, we want to keep doing this,” Namjoon mumbles once he manages to swallow. “I only just found out who he was, but he’s known who I am for like a month now and hasn't pushed for anything. He doesn’t even ask for selcas or anything, he lets me decide when and what I send. We’re like, really open with each other, emotionally, but we don’t really talk about meeting. It’s always been this...weird place. Like maybe we live across the country from each other, and then I gave him my name and it was, well maybe we both live in Seoul, and now I know him and it’s like. I could walk down to his studio, you know?”

“It’s scary,” Taehyung says, interrupting Namjoon's rambling and he nods, fidgeting with his chopsticks. Seokjin pats his knee, giving him his little fond smile that he doesn’t give the camera, the real one, not the acting one. The one that makes his mouth look a little like a sideways ‘C’ and Namjoon flushes and smiles back.

“Ok. It’s only been a day since you’ve known. So think on it and get back to us. For now it’s lunch, but I do have one question,” Seokjin says, turning his whole body to face Namjoon.

“Yeah hyung?”

“If you start dating do you think you could get him to introduce me to J-Hope?”

The whole room boos and throws crumpled up napkins at Seokjin, quickly dissolving into their normal brand of chaos as they fight over pieces of chicken and Seokjin sips from everyone’s drink and they get the latest gossip from the acting arm of the management company. Namjoon lets the other three control the conversation, lapsing into silence as he thinks about it. Would meeting Yoongi in person be so bad? Would it change anything? It probably would, but it would probably be a good kind of change, a nice change. He knows Yoongi as Gloss, has called him to calm him down from the edge of a panic attack, they’ve fallen asleep on the phone together, they chat endlessly about their dreams and fears. Now he just has a different name and face to pair with the man he’s known for months. Maybe he could just walk down to Yoongi’s company building, pick him up, let him sit on the back of his bike and take them around the river. Take him home and introduce him to Moni. Take him home and suck his dick. Namjoon wasn’t too picky about it on that front. He’d thought about Gloss while jerking off and now he has a face to fill in the vague idea of him and it’s a little overwhelming and it’s only been a day.

Namjoon wasn’t going to survive.

He means to bring the conversation up, to breach the topic of getting together finally, but he doesn’t. Neither does Yoongi. They call more often now, they send selcas back and forth. Yoongi in his studio, Namjoon out biking, Yoongi with Holly, Namjoon unleashes the absolute flood of photos he has of Moni sleeping next to him on the same pillow at night. They share photos about their days now, Namjoon sending photos he takes on a timer when he goes out exploring on his bike or wandering around art museums. Yoongi sends pictures of a strawberry picking trip Hoseok pulled him along for and Namjoon has to lay down on the living room carpet again because he looks so fucking small standing in the middle of a little strawberry field in his sunglasses and headband. Yoongi sends sleepy eyed bed selcas and Namjoon has to hold a normal conversation like his dick isn’t hard near constantly these days because they don’t talk about phone sex either and Namjoon is more afraid of that than he is of the meeting thing. Not even a cheeky "what're you wearing" spared between them.

And then he has his next comeback and he’s busy with performing and he has a few domestic concerts to do. Yoongi praises the new album in private, doesn’t hide that he’s listening to it on a VLive in public, and they both laugh at the little twitter fire storm it stirs up. Another couple weeks and Namjoon is in Busan for the last leg of his concert.

Busan is always a great place for a concert, the crowd is always loud and hyped for whatever set an artist is doing. It’s several hours later, after a post-concert VLive, talking with the management team to go over the schedule for the hundredth time, dinner and a shower, and his blood is still singing with post concert comedown. The hotel room is quieter than his place, no cat chirps, no jingling toys from midnight zoomies, no rustling of plants; too quiet and his earbuds are so far away in his carryon bag by the door. He’s clicking through channels to find something to watch when his phone starts ringing from where he’s had it charging on the nightstand. Yoongi’s face pops up when he unlocks it and he smiles before answering.

“Hey, what’re you doing up so late?” Namjoon greets, flopping back against the mattress, legs still hanging off the edge to touch the floor. It’s been a couple hours since his shower but he’s still in just his underwear and the hotel bathrobe because it was soft and it’s rare he wears one anyway. Might as well indulge in a fancy hotel.

“I should be asking you the same. Hell of a concert,” Yoongi returns, the sound of street traffic almost muffling him before a door clicks shut, like he’s walked inside.

“Did you stream it? Where are you?”

“No, I was in the crowd, just got home. I have the week off thanks to Hobi but it was a long drive, just walked down to the 7-11 for dinner.”

“Busan is so far!”

“It’s like four hours if the traffic is good, and it was. Not too bad. I wanted to see you and I hate flying if I don’t have to,” Yoongi chuckles, an elevator dinging and plastic rustling.

“Fine, did you like the show at least? You should have told me, I would have looked for you,” Namjoon makes sure the pout in his voice is noticeable despite being unable to keep from smiling. Yoongi drove all the way out to Busan just to see his concert then head right back home after. Did he have good seats? Would he have been noticeable? Maybe it’s for the best, he’s not sure he could have kept up the show knowing Yoongi was watching him. Trending for awkward boners on stage is the worst and he doesn’t need to add that to his career accomplishments honestly.

“You’re really good. I haven’t seen you in concert, just at MAMA last year. It’s different when everyone is there for you instead of like, just a small portion of the show, you know? The blonde looks good, you should keep it for a bit.” Another elevator ding and he can almost hear Yoongi’s footsteps towards his door.

“Did you leave Holly alone all day?” Namjoon turns the subject, too keyed up still to talk about if Yoongi thinks he looks good with freshly bleached hair.

“Nah, he’s with Jungkookie, he watches Holly when I’m out of town in exchange for music lessons. Good kid, been taking care of him since he was a teenager. He’s one of your biggest fans,” Yoongi chuckles, sounding so fond when he talks about his friend.

“He want an autograph?”

“Oh he’d cry. But nah, I won’t bother you for it. I got him some merch from your show to pay him back for watching Holly last minute.” A door lock beeps and Yoongi sighs, shuffling like shoes before the plastic rustles again. “Sorry if it’s gross sounding but I’m starving. I wanted to eat in Busan but I didn’t want to be sleepy on the drive and I don’t eat in the car.”

“No it’s fine, I already ate anyway. Thank you for coming to the show,” Namjoon hums, forcing himself upright and across the hotel room to grab his earbuds. “If you asked I would have sent you tickets hyung.”

“I know. You’re too nice,” Yoongi says, mouth already full. Namjoon sets the phone down briefly to get his earbuds in and synched up, still pacing. Yoongi has been talking while Namjoon was dealing with them and when the sound clicks in he really isn’t ready for the little mumbled “Babe?”

“What?”

“There you are.”

“Yeah, I ah, I was getting my earbuds. What did you call me?” Namjoon drops into a chair with little huff, clutching the phone as if it holds all the answers.

“Babe? Oh, oh sorry. It’s just what I call you when I think about you. I haven’t really said it out loud. Is it not ok?” Yoongi sounds hesitant, both of them still figuring out what the fuck they’re doing with each other.

“Call me it again,” Namjoon whispers, flushed so hot his ears are burning. The smirk on the other end is audible even if Yoongi is silent.

“Yeah? You wanna be my baby?” Yoongi asks, almost teasing. Normally Namjoon would play along, would give the same amount of sass back, but he’s still keyed too high up to do anything other than give a pitiful little whimper and slide deeper into his chair. Yoongi hums, thoughtful, and Namjoon is already starting to sweat. “Still on that concert high?”

“Mhm. Restless.”

“Want to try something?” Yoongi asks, the hiss of a bottle cracking open startling Namjoon.

“Please?”

“Ok ok, do me a favor and lay down, get comfortable. We’re both thinking the same thing right?” Yoongi chuckles and Namjoon agrees with a quick hum and an excited head nod even if Yoongi can’t see it. “Get what you need, I’m gonna call you back in like two minutes alright? I need to wash up real quick and then I’ll help calm you down baby.”

“You promise?” Namjoon asks, excitement curling in his guts.

“I promise,” Yoongi chuckles before hanging up.

Namjoon goes through his bag to grab the travel lube he keeps in his toiletries bag and tosses it on the bed before tossing himself in as well. He’d already taken a pretty thorough shower when he got back from the show. Once he’d finished a live he’d crawled into the shower to jerk off, trying to get some of the energy out but it hadn’t done much but cut the edge off. Now he was all edges waiting for Yoongi to call him back. He checks his phone and it’s only been a couple minutes but he’s restless. Even when it was just Gloss, not Yoongi, he dreamed of being with him, of knowing what those clever piano fingers could do. Several hours away over a phone line is more than enough for him if he’s honest.

He opens his camera, adjusts himself carefully on the sheets so one shoulder of his robe gets pulled down, the flush high on his cheeks maybe too obvious, and takes a photo. Before he can hesitate and second guess his own face he sends it with a quick little ‘hurry’ message.

Fives minutes later his phone finally rings and his earbuds are already in when he answers.

“Baby, jesus, you’re killing me,” Yoongi groans.

“In a good way?” Namjoon laughs.

“Real good. Sorry I had to take the fastest shower of my life. I just felt gross after driving all day and being jammed into a concert. I know this stuff is like, sexier if you don’t plan it or whatever. You still good?”

“Super good. Great even! I’ve never had phone sex before but it sounds fun.”

“Fun, huh?”

“I just think you’re really hot. And you came to my show, that’s sweet. Soft hyung,” Namjoon croons, rolling onto his side to stare at the phone.

“You want me to be soft with you?”

“Please?”

Yoongi hums quietly into the phone, a soft little sound like when people see particularly cute dogs. “I can be sweet for you baby. Would you have let me take you out to dinner if I’d stayed in Busan? Take you on a date after your big concert?”

“No,” Namjoon mumbles, smiling at the put out noise Yoongi makes. “I’d invite you to my hotel. We could have had room service. We could kiss.”

“Mmm, won’t even let me wine and dine you baby boy? I drove all the way out to Busan just to see your show, at least let me make an effort,” Yoongi chuckles.

“Hyung,” Namjoon whines, dragging a hand up his bare thigh. Yoongi is teasing and all Namjoon wants to do is shove his hand between his legs and jack himself off while Yoongi listens. If he were a braver man he’d turn his camera on, but this is new and he’s still a little jittery and desperate.

“Fine, fine. You sound so worked up already baby, how bad do you want it? Tell me what you want.”

“Want you hyung,” Namjoon mumbles against the phone, letting one hand wander up his chest, tripping over the ridges of his abs. He’s been working out more and biking everywhere has its perks, his body finally starting to fill out the way he likes instead of just being a giant string bean that was like eighty percent leg.

“Yeah? Baby just wants to get taken care of after a concert? Fuck I’d love to get my mouth on you,” Yoongi groans and his voice is so rough over the line that Namjoon gives a quiet little moan in reply. “You touching yourself?”

“A little, didn’t want to like, jerk off until you told me to.”

Yoongi chuckles and it's so deep that it sends a shiver down Namjoon’s spine. “You always this obedient?”

“No, not always. For you I could be though. It’s what I imagined earlier, when I was jacking off in the shower. Think you’d be real nice, you’re always so nice to me.”

“What do you want, baby?”

“Want you to tell me what to do. I like it, getting bossed around sometimes. I don’t like it when it’s mean,” Namjoon says, almost whispering against the phone.

He doesn’t indulge that part of himself, not often anyway. When they were younger Jimin was safe enough to do it with, but then he found Taehyung and while they were open to it Namjoon was always a one-guy kind of guy. Or at least for now anyway, getting in on whatever those two had didn’t feel as good when he wasn’t romantic with them. Felt like he was a third wheel. So it had been a long time since he’d been able to be soft, be anything other than RM during a one night stand. With Yoongi he could just be Namjoon.

“Alright baby, are you still dressed? Or are you in that robe you sent me a picture of?”

“Just the robe and my underwear,” Namjoon answers, pulling the robe fully open.

“Touch yourself for me, just over your underwear. Get yourself hard. Do you want to fuck me baby?”

“It’s not gonna take much, fuck. And yeah, a lot, but not tonight? Is...is that cool?”

“That’s fine sweetheart, I’m just figuring out what you like. I don’t want to tell you to do what you don’t want. Gotta be good for my baby,” Yoongi laughs, fabric shifting around on the other end of the line.

Namjoon can see him when he closes his eyes, can imagine the long line of his throat, the pale skin stretched over knobby joints and broad shoulders. He wants to know if the rest of Yoongi goes as pink as his mouth, as his knuckles, clenched around a mic, but Namjoon just shudders a breath, rubs the flat of his palm over himself like he was told. It’s sort of embarrassing how hard he already is despite just starting whatever this is.

A soft moan bubbles up out of his throat and Yoongi coos at him, letting him keep going.

“Touch your chest for me baby, I want to get my mouth on you, should have stayed after the concert just to lick the sweat off your neck,” Yoongi rumbles and Namjoon whines again, hips kicking up into his palm, fingers circling around himself through the thin cotton of his boxers. It’s too easy for Yoongi’s voice to lull him under, to make him pliant and easy. With other people he’s active, a give and take, but with Yoongi he just wants to listen to him talk, to do what he asks, anything he wants to get called baby and hear more honey sweet words rumbled through his earbuds.

Trailing his fingertips up his sternum gets a little hitch in his breathing, his heart already racing against his fingertips when he flicks a thumb against one of his nipples on his way up to his throat. Two fingers pressed against his full bottom lip makes him moan, imagining it’s Yoongi, imagining he’s there, warm and heavy over him. Yoongi is small, he knows that much, smaller than him anyway, but he moves with a purpose, with power, and it doesn’t take much for Namjoon to imagine that same focus turned his way.

“Hyung,” Namjoon groans, turning his head to get closer to the phone.

“You sound beautiful,” Yoongi says and Namjoon flushes from ear to neck, a small little noise tumbling up out of him. “Do you have lube baby? You have anything to open yourself up for me?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon says, swallowing and letting his hand slide back down his chest to join his other hand still teasing his dick through his underwear. “Wanna touch myself hyung. Please. Already so hard.”

“Needy baby,” Yoongi says and it sounds like he’s smiling. “Wish I could see you, you probably look so pretty, so desperate for my cock. Go ahead and take your underwear off, you can stroke yourself. Just a little.”

Namjoon doesn’t need to be told twice, lifting his hips and kicking his underwear down and off his legs. They get stuck around one ankle and go flying across the room to land near where his bag might be when he flicks his ankle again. Something to deal with later when his dick isn’t in his hand and Yoongi isn’t making the sweetest hitch breath sounds on the other end of a phone.

“Are you hard hyung?” Namjoon gasps, slowly moving his fist up and down his dick. He’s barely done anything and he’s already leaking knowing that it’s Yoongi on the phone telling him what to do. It’s been a long time since he’s gotten this worked up over so little. If they were actually together he’s honestly terrified that he wouldn’t even last. Maybe it’s the newness of it, the excitement of someone new, someone he likes more than a little bit figuring what his body likes best.

“Yeah baby. Do you already have your lube? Did you get yourself ready for me while you were waiting?”

“N-no, I mean, in the shower, a little. I thought about it, about you being here, and played a little, one finger. But I just, I have lube. You know, in case you wanted it.”

“Do people not fuck you often?” Yoongi asks and Namjoon hums a little no sound. “Oh poor thing, hyung will fuck you right. Do you like being on your back or on your knees?”

“My back. Makes me feel small.”

“Cute. Can you get your lube for me baby? Warm it up in your hands. I wanna keep teasing you but we haven’t talked about that yet, yeah? I’ll edge you next time if you want.”

Namjoon hums again, a breathy whine of a noise because he has to take his hand off his dick and the loss of friction is almost painful. He wants to come so bad his thighs shake when he sits up to find wherever the hell he decided to throw the lube to. It’s stuck behind one of his knees under the robe and he falls back in the bed once he gets it, popping the cap to pour it into his palm.

“I would let you,” Namjoon mentions, letting some of the lube drip between his fingers to slip down the length of his dick.

“Be good and we’ll talk about it.”

“I can be good,” Namjoon promises, spreading his legs and being patient despite how desperate he is for anything to touch him.

“Tease yourself for me then. Don’t put your fingers in, just around the rim. If I were there it’d be my mouth. Want to lick and kiss you till you’re dripping wet for me, fuck you open on my tongue before I let you have a finger,” Yoongi says, all filth rolling off his tongue just as easily as his rap verses and Namjoon is helpless but to follow, hips coming up off the bed and hand shaking with how much he wants to go knuckle deep with two fingers and fuck himself until he cries but Yoongi hasn’t said he’s allowed. Yoongi listens to him whine and get breathy, desperate, while circling around his own hole, free hand holding his dick up against his belly to give himself space to work. He’s dripping between his cheeks, lube slipping around everywhere, rim clenching as his body begs for anything to fill him.

“Hyung please, please,” Namjoon babbles, his voice already deep and breathy.

“Fuck, your voice is so good. You’re being so good for me,” Yoongi groans and Namjoon moans back, echoing him with his own need. “Go ahead, give yourself one.”

Namjoon jumps to comply, pressing into himself and groaning. It’s not nearly enough but he still fucks himself, free hand slipping with the excess lube along the underside of his dick, quiet and hushed, just a little friction to take the edge off, hips pressing up off the bed. Soon he’s whining, frustrated, begging for another and Yoongi mulls it over for a bit, the slick sound of his own hand jerking himself off while he listens to Namjoon is the only noise on the other end of the line for a few seconds before he finally relents. Two fingers knuckle deep he moans, doesn’t let himself get self conscious, just lets himself get lost in the little sounds it gets out of Yoongi.

“I bet you take it so well baby, such a good boy. Can you take three? Fuck yourself with three and let me hear you come.”

“Am I allowed? Is it ok? Is it good for you too?” Namjoon pants while he readjusts, bends one leg up to his chest to get the angle right to reach his prostate with the tips of his fingers. The first touch startles a little shout of Yoongi’s name out of him, his breathing going ragged.

“So good, I wanna fuck you so bad. Just walk in there and replace your fingers with my cock. Fuck you open through the goddamn mattress.” Yoongi growls into his ear and Namjoon whimpers, curls his fingers up against his sweet spot and starts jerking off properly. Quick and desperate and his whole body is shivering. “Oh yeah? You like it hard? Want to feel me when you wake up in the morning?”

“Please, please, please,” Namjoon begs.

“Good boy, such a good boy for hyung, you can come,it’s ok, let me hear what you sound like huh?”

Namjoon tries to drag it out, fist tight around his dick, but his guts are alright tied up in knots, pulling tighter and tighter, whole body sweating and shivering before he snaps. He goes silent, mouth open and head tipped back against the sheets as he locks up, the orgasm forced out of him to paint his stomach white. A helpless little ‘ah, ah’ falls out of his open mouth and he can vaguely make out the sound of Yoongi coming with his own groan on the other end while blood rushes through his own ears for a few seconds.

“There you go, good boy, be gentle sweetheart, come back down for me,” Yoongi says in a hushed voice, slurred and soft around the vowels. Namjoon whimpers again, pulling his fingers out of himself and letting himself unfold and slowly catch his breath. It takes a long time of Yoongi murmuring sweet little praises to him before his eyes can refocus and he feels like he’s back in his own body. He hums softly, rumbling a breathless laugh. “There you are. You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m good. Been a while since I’ve had someone do that for me, I should have warned you,” Namjoon mumbles, wiping his hand off on a corner of the robe. His makeup wipes are still on the nightstand next to his night time moisturizer and he grabs a couple to lazily mop up his stomach.

“If I were there I’d get you some water, do you have anything? This isn’t perfect but I still want to take care of you.”

It takes more energy than it should to roll himself up on shaky legs and shuffle across the room with his phone to get to the little mini fridge. When he first checked in he shoved a few snacks and drinks in and there’s still some stuff left to pick through. He grabs a water bottle and a little choco pie to snack on. “Yeah, yeah there’s water. I got it. Got chocolate too.”

“So that was good for you?” Yoongi asks, muted shuffling around as he probably gets himself cleaned up as well. Namjoon sits down on the floor, flopped down on a hotel floor naked in a hotel bathrobe in Busan eating a snack cake and sipping overpriced bottled water. There’s still some lube he missed between his cheeks that he should probably get around to before he falls asleep but he can’t make himself bother. He wants to be with Yoongi, to get cuddled properly, but otherwise he’s feeling pretty great with his life at the moment.

“Yeah, real good. Gonna sleep great. Thank you hyung, I think I needed that, I’m exhausted.”

“Ready to sleep?” Yoongi chuckles, glass clinking then running water.

“Mm. Will you stay on the line? Just until I fall asleep?” Namjoon hopes he doesn’t sound as nervous as he feels. They don’t normally intend to fall asleep on the phone together, it just sometimes happens. This is purposeful.

“Of course. Just plug your phone in first, ok baby?” Yoongi asks and Namjoon lets out a happy little hum as he sips his water, eventually getting up and finally pulling on some sweatpants so he isn’t naked when he wakes up in the morning.

Under Yoongi’s gentle guidance he plugs his phone in, makes sure his alarm is set because he has an interview to do in the morning before his return flight to Seoul. They talk, quiet and hushed, Yoongi curious and Namjoon only slightly embarrassed to be talking about how he doesn’t just bottom, he just rarely does. It’s the opposite with Yoongi, mostly because he’s got that angry twink look going for him and Namjoon is just out there being all leg and casually bulking up over his short break. It’s halfway through a story about something Hoseok did when Namjoon falls asleep. When he wakes up a few hours later, groggy and staring at his phone alarm, he doesn't remember how the story ended. One earbud has fallen out and his hair looks like a dandelion, but his phone is at least fully charged. Yoongi sent him a few messages, gentle reminders to eat breakfast before he went to work, a little selca of him looking half asleep and smooshed up against his pillow.

For the first time in a long time he wakes up feeling loose and content, even if he can’t find the earbud that rolled into the sheets somewhere. Nights where he talks to Yoongi always leave him a little lighter for it but he feels better, happier, which isn't surprising because since he started this thing with Yoongi, with Gloss, he’s been happier than he has been in years. His manager is nice enough to just humor him as they meet up over breakfast before ushering him through the day and onto a plane then back into a meeting before he’s able to get home to his waiting cat. Jimin has left him a little handwritten note about how she held up while he was gone and Jimin was cat-sitting and that’s charming.

“Hey Moni,” he greets the apartment, setting his suitcase down by the door and pulling off his shoes. The minute his cat recognizes it’s him and not Jimin she comes screaming out of the bedroom, throwing herself bodily onto the wood floor, just as dramatic as a cat can be to see her person returned. He crouches down, gently scratching her ears before picking her up like a baby. “Moni, I think I more than like him. I think I love him. Do you think he feels the same?”

Moni looks up at him and chirps, little paws kneading in midair like she’s making bread. She doesn’t have an answer but he gets one a week later.

Two days ago, almost a week into SOPE’s international tour, Gloss posted "where has my heart gone?" and two days ago Namjoon realized he was really, really, in love with a guy named Yoongi who was also Gloss. He didn’t just like Yoongi, he didn’t just want to date Yoongi, he wanted to be together forever. This was it. He’d found his person, the guy he could see himself with not just for some time, but all the time, the rest of time. But there it was, those same feelings staring back at him in a bare melody from Gloss. It was big and scary and song lyrics were always easier than words but he had to try. Two hours ago Namjoon posted “Tokyo” and now he's in an airport after hopping an insane flight out of the country to follow an equally insane plan because he’s dramatic and Seokjin had been the one to drive him because he was equally dramatic and was proud of him for the dramatics. Jimin had just promised to make it look like an accident if Yoongi rejected him. The calm smile he’d had while he told Namjoon this, one hand petting Moni as he lounged on Namjoon’s couch, was perhaps the most terrifying thing Namjoon had ever seen out of the young so he didn’t even question it. Jimin could probably murder a guy, he did kendo, Seokjin would help. It was all very family-feeling and Namjoon complained to Taehyung via text only because he didn’t want to cry on the plane.

His manager had frowned, a lot, but figured going to a rival's concert wasn't the worst thing Namjoon could be seen doing so he agreed to the time off.

He’s standing around the pickup area, waiting for the car his manager managed to arrange to his hotel, counting down the minutes to make it to the show, when his phone starts ringing.

“Hello?” he asks, answering without even looking at the screen because he’s running on like four hours of sleep in two days and the biggest airport iced starbucks he could manage without the barista giving him judging eyes. She still gave that pitying gaze you give anyone who orders the largest size americano with like two extra shots and a cookie in the middle of the night.

“Do you love me?” It’s Yoongi and Namjoon just smiles, softening and adjusting the brim of his hat just so he has something to do with his free hand that isn’t adjusting his backpack strap for the hundredth time.

“Yeah, yeah I do. Is that ok?”

“Namjoon-ah, you can’t ask me that, I don’t have time to write you another song while I’m getting ready for a concert,” Yoongi whines, his voice cracking over the phone line. They both laugh and Namjoon looks up in time to see his car pull up. It’s a driver they’ve used before and they share a short greeting in his clumsy Japanese before he settles into the backseat.

“You’ll have time after hyung,” Namjoon murmurs, quiet and deep, phone pressed to his ear and voice muffled against his scarf. It was cold and he’d thankfully thought just enough to dress for  it, piled up with a scarf and one of his better denim jackets. The ripped jeans hadn’t been the best idea but it seemed like one when he’d tried to dress for both a flight and a concert while shoving clothes into a backpack and trying not to lose his passport. Again.

“Will you call me after? Where are you? At your studio? Can you say it? I’d like to hear it, if you’re alone.”

“I’m not, not exactly. You came to see my show, so,” Namjoon starts, smiling and probably looking like an idiot grinning in the backseat talking on his phone. “I came to see yours. Gotta check the competition you know?”

“You’re here? You’re in Tokyo?”

“Yeah.”

“Where are you staying?”

“Managed to get a room at the Imperial.”

“So fancy,” Yoongi chuckles, voices and shuffling in the background almost drowning him out. Yoongi’s voice drifts, like he’s leaning away from the phone to politely ask, all formalities, if he can switch an outfit. Something about a jacket. “Sorry, we’re getting final prep going.”

“I know. It’s ok. And the less expensive hotels were sold out. Will you text me after? Can we have dinner?”

“Yeah, yeah I will. I promise. Send me a selca. I want to know who I’m looking for in the crowd.”

“I will, now go get ready hyung, I hear the makeup-noonas calling you,” Namjoon agrees, checking his watch for the hundredth time since landing. It’s a couple hours but set up always takes forever, last minute sound checks before the stadium starts filling up. It would be a minute. He manages to take a picture that isn’t completely black when the car hovers at a stoplight for a minute, sending it quickly before he gets too embarrassed by the driver. Japanese isn’t his best language but he still manages to get through with his clumsy honorifics once they get to the hotel and he can set up another drive to take him to the stadium after he gets himself checked in and his bag dropped off at his room. He’s cutting it close, but he did pay for premium seats and he’s desperate to get to the concert early enough to claim them, wanting to be as up close as possible to watch Yoongi on stage. A thrill dances down his spine as he readjusts his hat and scarf, makes sure his ripped jeans still look as good as he thought they did several hours and a plane ride ago, and rushes down back to the car.

He expects a good show, a good night, and maybe Yoongi will let them get together for dinner if he isn’t tied up with lives or other concert prep. He does not expect Yoongi, just after their intro set and introductions, while Hoseok is busy in his verse of their second cypher, to point Namjoon out and motion for his hat. Yoongi crouches down and holds out his hand, waiting with his grin going all teeth, until Namjoon cackles and just passes the hat over across the barricade. Yoongi wears it for the rest of the show, through two outfit changes despite his outfit for seesaw now matching at all, and then again when they’re finally meeting up after he’s discreetly shuffled backstage and into a waiting vehicle. It was a good show, if a little insane with how everyone kept screaming. It’s been too long since he’s been to a concert as an audience member, not a performer, and the high of it is still simmering low in his gut despite not being the one on stage. Yoongi and Hoseok are already chatting and laughing about the show when Namjoon slides into the backseat.

“So your bike guy really is RM, huh?” Hoseok asks, his smile the shape of a heart and his makeup smudged from sweat. Namjoon briefly forgot how much better Hoseok looks in person than on a screen. It's been a while since they last met in person at an award show of some description and seeing him up close is a little startling. He'd grown up with Jimin and Seokjin, watched them grow into their faces, Hoseok was new and just out there looking like physical sunshine.

“I told you he was,” Yoongi grouses, like it should have been obvious, as he shifts to sit next to Namjoon in the van. He turns back to Namjoon, his favorite FG hat still sitting on his head. The stylists had crimped and fluffed his hair but it’s sort of ruined and curling up over the edges of the snapback. Namjoon has never been more in love and then Yoongi grabs his hand and Namjoon smiles so wide his dimples pop. Yoongi coos a little at him. “Cute.”

“Can we go to dinner?” Namjoon asks because he wants to see Yoongi in private where they aren’t worried about a camera, which to be fair is already a moot point because he just spent an entire concert running around in Namjoon’s snapback and someone has to have posted it across weverse and twitter by now, but Namjoon also hasn’t eaten since before he left Seoul.

“We can get room service,” Yoongi decides and Hoseok snorts a laugh from his seat ahead of them.

They head to Yoongi and Hoseok’s hotel, getting taken in through a side door, all very discreet, and escorted up to their floor. Hoseok pulls Namjoon down into a friendly headlock halfway down the hall from the elevator to say they should get breakfast and thank him for coming out to the show before heading down to his own room. He likes Hoseok immediately despite only having maybe said hi once in his life before now. Yoongi drags him along, neither of them talking, just lacing their hands together until they’re inside Yoongi’s room and the door lock clicks back on.

“I can’t believe you flew to Tokyo. You wrote me a love song using my beats and then flew to Tokyo. You’re impossible Namjoon-ah,” Yoongi finally says, exhaling it all in a big rush of air as he pulls away.

“It’s because I love you hyung, like, sort of a lot,” Namjoon says, shrugging and shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

“Say it again,” Yoongi says, coming closer, hooking his long fingers into the belt loops of Namjoon’s jeans.

“I love you Yoongi.” It’s the easiest thing in the world and it makes Yoongi’s eyes crinkle with the little embarrassed smile he gives, so wide it shows his gums. Namjoon leans down, gets eye level below the brim of Yoongi’s stolen hat and waits until they manage to hold eye contact. “Say it back.”

“I love you too.”

Saying I love you is easy, but kissing is even easier. Just a little press of lips, no tongue, no fighting or desperation like he’d always imagined his first kiss with Gloss to be. Probably for the best because it’s Yoongi slowly pressing closer to him. Yoongi pulls away first, nuzzles soft barely there kisses against Namjoon’s jaw before stepping even closer, arms curling up into Namjoon’s jacket to hold onto the back of his shirt. He hopes it isn’t too sweaty from being at a concert pressed against the crowd. Namjoon keeps his hands in his pockets and wraps Yoongi up in it with him, Yoongi’s face pressed into his scarf.

“Will you stay here tonight? We don’t have to do anything, you know, it’s really fine, I just don’t want to let you go,” Yoongi whispers, voice muffled against the soft knit against his face.

“Yeah, I’d like that. You have a tshirt I could borrow? This one is too tight to sleep in.”

“Probably. I buy everything oversized.”

“Could have fooled me with these pants.”

Yoongi shoves him away playfully for that, laughing. His shoulders shake when he laughs and it sounds so much better in real life than over a phone. “Funny. You want to shower? I’ll find you something and order up some room service.”

“Please, I’ve been on a plane and then at a concert all day. I was so stressed about the fucking song I posted I haven’t eaten since this morning.”

Yoongi makes an offended little noise and physically pushes Namjoon into the bathroom.

“Shower. I’ll handle food. You’re impossible. You have your fucking cat on a feeding schedule by the minute and you forget to fuckin’ eat. Impossible,” Yoongi rants while Namjoon giggles and slowly closes the door on him. He can feel Yoongi pressed against the door still, talking. “You still eat meat right? The vegetarian thing was a phase?”

“Yeah, yeah it was. Thank you hyung,” Namjoon says through the door before he starts peeling off all his layers and folding them on the counter. There’s lube and condoms in his bag back at his own hotel along with all his clothes, a nice dressy shirt and pants along with it that’re probably wrinkled to hell and back by now, but wearing Yoongi’s clothes is just as good. He can look nice for Yoongi later, when he isn’t about ready to vibrate out of his own skin for being in the same damn room as the man he’s been in love with for months now. He cleans as much as he can, originally aiming to use the hotel brand samples but he notices Yoongi has left his own soaps in the shower and Namjoon can’t stop himself from using it.

He wanders back out eventually in just his boxer briefs under a towel, a second one still working at drying his ends.

Yoongi looks up at him when he walks out, laid back in the oversized chair by the window and small dining table, eyebrows going up while actively giving Namjoon a once over.

“Shirt’s on the bed, it’s the biggest I have, should fit. You weren’t lying when you said you were starting to work out huh?”

Namjoon just smiles, flushed to his neck, and pads over to grab the shirt and pull it on. He’s about ninety percent sure he owns the exact same FG shirt back at home and it fits, hanging off his shoulders but tighter around the chest and arms than it must be for Yoongi. Sitting on Yoongi’s hotel bed in nothing but his underwear and Yoongi’s shirt wasn’t how he’d expected to spend his night after confessing his feelings, but he isn’t about to complain. Especially not when Yoongi gets out of his chair and walks closer to stand between Namjoon’s legs, long fingers playing with the neckline of the shirt, just teasing under the fabric.

“Ok I’m gonna go shower, I feel crusty from all the stage makeup. Food should be here in a bit and it’s already paid for, just bring it in if it gets here before I’m done. I got gyoza dumplings and a vegetable tempura mix, that good?”

“Perfect, I’m not super picky.”

“Cute,” Yoongi smiles, leaning in to hold Namjoon’s face in both hands and kiss him. “You look cute in my clothes, and you smell like me. Did you come here just to get me to fuck you? Because it’s working.”

Namjoon snorts out an ugly laugh, grinning with all his teeth and dimples. “I mean I’m not gonna lie it was on the agenda but mostly I wanted to tell you I love you.”

“We’ll see what I can do about it,” Yoongi says, giving Namjoon another small kiss to the top of his head before heading into the bathroom for his own shower, pausing briefly to pull clothes out of his suitcase by the door.

A few minutes of fiddling on his phone and a couple new pokemon caught in Pokemon GO, because he’s in Japan he might as well get the exclusives lurking around Yoongi’s hotel room, and the room service shows up. Thankfully the guy delivering it just lets Namjoon take it with a polite nod and a thank you, not even a sideways glance given to Namjoon being the one to get it instead of Yoongi. He says a prayer to whoever is looking out for him that he doesn’t make a tabloid twice in one night. At least give it a twenty-four hour buffer period to give his manager a break. He pushes the little cart over to the small dining table set in one corner of the room and settles into one of the two high backed armchairs, legs kicked out and crossed at the ankle while he relaxes and waits. The last two days have been rough, too many doubts swirling around his head about if he’d been reading the right signals in Yoongi’s song, if they were on the same page, but now that he’s here, now, instead of waiting until Yoongi got back from tour, it feels better. There’s a weight lifted off his chest and his whole body feels looser, all the stress slipping off like water on a duck.

Eventually Yoongi pops open the door of the bathroom, steam filtering out, but he doesn’t come along with it. Namjon frowns, worried for no reason as there continues to be no Yoongi coming out of the bathroom. Was he nervous too?

“Yoongi-hyung?”

“One sec, if I don’t do this face crap now I’ll forget and then I’ll break out from all the stage makeup I just scraped off my damn face,” Yoongi calls, the sink running for a couple seconds. It only takes a minute before he’s wandering out of the bathroom in just an oversized pullover sweater, a lucky cat printed on the front. It’s big enough that Namjoon can’t tell if Yoongi is even wearing underwear and his hands are mostly hidden in little sweater paws, fingertips finishing getting the last of the face cream rubbed in under his eyes.

“Hey,” Namjoon smiles, showing his dimples.

“Hey,” Yoongi returns, grinning with all his teeth, “sorry, I have sensitive skin and I needed to let the steam out. All done though, let’s eat? We can talk.”

“That sounds nice, I waited for you.”

Namjoon straightens up in his seat to move the plates over, setting the flat silver covers that were keeping them warm back on the tray. Just a couple plates of dumplings with fried vegetables, the crispy sides facing up and a couple different little cups of dipping sauce centered in the plates. There’s another chair but Yoongi just sits his ass down on Namjoon’s lap, legs slung over the arm of the chair. Vaguely Namjoon knew Yoongi had a good ass, he isn’t blind, he’s seen the guy in music videos and walking a red carpet. The last two hours he was strutting across the stage in assorted flavors of leather pants. He's got an ass. But the knowledge of that pales in comparison to said ass sitting on his thighs. It’s like a little cushion in his lap and Yoongi only lets out a startled laugh when Namjoon slips one hand over it.

“Hands,” Yoongi giggles, pulling his sweater back down before Namjoon can actually check if he’s wearing tiny briefs or not. “Come on, talk and dinner first, then you can get handsy with me.”

“You promise?”

“Cross my horrible little heart,” Yoongi says, exaggerating his pout.

Namjoon laughs only because he knows damn well Yoongi’s heart isn’t tiny, it’s too big for his chest, always so soft for him even before they knew each other’s names. Yoongi’s lips are flushed red and even if he wasn’t being cute they were pouty. Cherry red down turned doll lips and Namjoon leans in to kiss them, just a soft, quick thing, because he can, before settling with one arm around Yoongi’s waist. They manage to eat a couple dumplings a piece before either of them can get the conversation started.

“So are we dating now?” Yoongi finally asks, his free hand carding through Namjoon’s hair.

“I would like to be, officially. I don’t expect you to like, out yourself for me or make a formal announcement or whatever. I get it, we’re both in the same industry doing the same thing. But I don’t particularly care if we get seen out together.”

“I don’t either. So publicly friends and if anyone thinks otherwise let them say whatever?”

“Works for me. If an interviewer asks?” Namjoon rubs the hand around Yoongi’s waist idly over the soft cotton.

“Met through a mutual friend, bonded through music, became good friends? Doesn’t have to be too complicated. I’ve never really cared about my public image, the bulk of my fans think I’m gay anyway. I mean, I do rap about how good my oral is.”

“Oh I thought that was a metaphor,” Namjoon mumbles, leaning back in the chair. He sets the chopsticks down on his plate, getting his hand back to rub at one of Yoongi’s boney knees. He does get pink everywhere, Namjoon notices, all his joints looking fragile with how rosy they are. Yoongi’s right knee is a little bruised and Namjoon is careful as he rubs it, working a little of the stress out of Yoongi’s tense calf.

“No, not a metaphor. Would you rub my feet if I asked?” Yoongi smirks, watching the way Namjoon’s hand rubs down his smooth legs. Namjoon nods, too busy wondering if he shaves or waxes, if maybe he’s had laser instead to get this smooth. “Alright, so that’s settled. We’re boyfriends. Do you fuck on the first date?”

Namjoon chokes on nothing and Yoongi cackles before shoving another dumpling in his mouth while watching Namjoon try to recover.

“Normally? No. But I could make an exception since I think we’ve been dating for months now. You write me songs hyung, that’s boyfriend material stuff. Is this where you ask what my kinks are?” Namjoon matches Yoongi’s smile when he says it, leaning closer to press his face against Yoongi’s neck. They smell the same, the same soap and shampoo, like peaches or oranges, something gently sweetened.

“It is, yeah. I know you’ve got a praise kink and like being called baby. You know I like bossing you around a bit. Anything else? You want me to top?”

Namjoon tilts his head, dragging his lips over the hinge of Yoongi’s jaw, feeling him chew through another dumpling while Namjoon figures out an answer.

“I liked what we did when we called, after my concert. I liked you telling me what to do. I still don’t like it when people are mean to me, or when they ask me to be mean. I had a girlfriend who liked spanking but it’s not really my thing. Or like. Spitting I guess? I mean spit is fine, it's there, but like, actually spitting.” Namjoon says, frowning with how quickly he flushes. Playing with Yoongi’s smooth pale legs is an easy distraction. They’re less of a distraction and more his center of attention when Yoongi shifts in his lap, turning to swing one leg over Namjoon’s lap to straddle him and sit heavy on his knees. The position forces his sweater to ride up, showing off the fact that he isn’t, in fact, wearing underwear, fabric pooling in Yoongi’s lap to do very little to hide his soft pink dick.

Of course even Yoongi’s dick is cute.

“Pretty easy. So you cool with me fucking you? I’m clean by the way, should probably get that off the table, I don’t know about you, but medical on our team is pretty insistent about regular testing. Getting ahead of scandals and all that.”

“Oh, oh same. I mean, they don’t test me constantly, but I haven’t been with anyone since my last clean test like last year? No, no it was in spring. During the off season.” Namjoon shrugs, all his attention down on the skin he can reveal before Yoongi tells him off.

It’s apparently a lot, Namjoon’s hands pushing the sweater up off Yoongi’s belly to get a proper look at his dick. There’s a soft little thatch of black hair, neatly trimmed, above his dick but nothing else, the rest of him smooth under Namjoon’s hands. Namjoon shaves and gets waxed often enough but it’s wild actually how soft Yoongi’s skin is. Milky white and almost glowing in the yellowed hotel lights and what little neon street light filters through the blinds. Maybe he’d share his skincare routine. The insides of his thighs go pink and so does his belly, matching the pink flush up his neck and over the highs of his cheeks the longer Namjoon just watches him.

Yoongi’s dick is slowly filling out from the attention and Namjoon isn’t far behind. He’s been half hard since the concert ended if he’s honest with himself.

“We’ll figure out the specifics as we go but can I get my mouth on you baby? Oral is sort of my thing,” Yoongi finally asks, his little sweater paws making his hands look smaller, cuter, as they slip down Namjoon’s chest, feeling him up through the borrowed shirt.

“Please?” Namjoon says, soft and sounding more affected than he intended. It isn’t the first time he’s been with a guy, not by a long shot really, but it feels different. Feels more important.

Yoongi slips off Namjoon’s lap, laughing as Namjoon still grabs for him. He pulls on Namjoon’s arms until he’s standing only to push him down into the mattress, both of them giggling while they shift around, finding a position that works. The phone call is apparently still fresh in Yoongi’s mind because he remembers what Namjoon likes, keeps him pressed down to the mattress with his whole body weight. It isn’t like Yoongi is particularly heavy, stronger than Namjoon expected, but Namjoon could still flip him if he wanted.

He doesn’t want to.

Being under Yoongi is nice, just heavy enough to weigh him down without crushing as he sits on Namjoon’s hips, feet curled up under his own legs to press against Namjoon’s thighs. Everything about Yoongi is warm and pink except his hands and feet which are pale and cold, just a little blue where the skin is thin and his veins stand out around pink knuckles. Another time Namjoon would write dumb sappy poetry about him, about the colors Yoongi goes, about his pitch black hair still a little wet from the shower because of how thick it is, pushed back off his forehead but with little strands sticking to his temples, his milky skin stretched tight over his lean muscle and boney joints. When he finally pulls off his sweater, Namjoon’s shirt following shortly after, Namjoon can almost count each knob of his spine, fingertips tripping up it when Yoongi leans down to leave bruises on Namjoon’s chest and shoulders, just where a shirt would hide. Vaguely, as an afterthought, he knows his own skin is darker, golden tanned when there isn’t a photo filter or studio lights on him, but he never really noticed the difference until his hands are pressed up against Yoongi’s skin.

At this point Yoongi could suck his whole neck into a hickey and Namjoon would just live his life like that, content to make it onto page three of the paper because he forgot to bring concealer.

“You’re so pretty hyung,” Namjoon sighs, tips his head back into the pillows as Yoongi licks a long strip from his sternum over his adam’s apple and into his mouth. Yoongi pulls back to smile at him, soft and so, so fond. He smooths his hands through Namjoon’s hair, just holding him for a minute.

“You’re gorgeous. I love you,” Yoongi whispers, like it’s a secret between them and Namjoon’s heart does something weird in his chest. It feels like a good kind of weird instead of a medical emergency so he just holds Yoongi closer to him, nudging their noses together.

It’s the longest he thinks Yoongi has held eye contact, the rest of the time just staring slightly off the mark. He’ll have to ask about it when he isn’t actively hard and about to vibrate out of his skin with the need to kiss his boyfriend .  

Another long quiet second and Yoongi’s eyes slip closed, thick lashes fanned over his cheeks as he connects their lips again, finding no resistance when he licks against Namjoon’s bottom lip. Just a little hum between them, shared breath as they kiss, hands wandering across new bodies to find what worked, what didn’t. Yoongi arched up into his hands like a cat when Namjoon skimmed his palms over his shoulders and down his back, breath hitching when his fingers pressed deep into the little dimples at the base of his spine. Namjoon melted under Yoongi’s curious mouth, teeth leaving bruises across his torso that he smoothed over with his tongue.

They’re getting handsier, Namjoon getting two handfuls of Yoongi’s ass, squeezing and dipping his fingers down between his cheeks, teasing. Yoongi forces him to pull his hands away, fingers grazing over pale legs to grab his knees, as Yoongi sits back on Namjoon’s thighs to stare down at Namjoon’s crotch. It’s there that he gets stuck, fingers barely dipping into the waistband of Namjoon’s boxers. Namjoon is about to tell him it’s fine, he can pull them off, but then Yoongi is holding his hand up against the bulge, fingers spread wide like he’s trying to measure it.

“Wow, oh wow alright so twitter is definitely right about that,” Yoongi chuckles, smirking as he presses his hand against the outline of Namjoon’s dick in his shorts. Namjoon can only give a quiet little moan, pressing his hips up into Yoongi’s hand. “So, question?”

“Better be easy hyung,” Namjoon complains, flopping back against the mattress. “I can’t do math.”

“So I know you like, wanted me to fuck you, and I still will if you want, no doubt, but…” Yoongi trails off, gently pulling Namjoon’s boxers away from his dick so the tip doesn’t catch on the elastic before wiggling them down to the tops of Namjoon’s thighs. The red tip of Yoongi’s tongue sticks out between his teeth as he stares down at Namjoon’s dick laying against his stomach. And alright, sure, he knew he was bigger than average, he’d had a few girls complain and a guy or two prefer to ride thighs than actual penetration but he also knew not everyone liked penetration. It wasn’t the end all be all and he hadn’t been remarkably active despite the fan theories of him swimming in pussy. Hooking up as an almost-idol rapper was tedious and Namjoon was horny 24/8 but he was also pretty chill with his hand. It wasn’t like he could go and measure porn dick to see how he physically measured up or whatever. The survey size of people who had seen his dick and the amount of other not-porno size dicks he’d seen was skewed in his favor.

“But?” Namjoon prods, urging Yoongi to continue his thought.

“But I kind of want to ride you. I mean, again, no big deal we’ve got time to do other stuff if you’re set on our first time being you on your back getting fucked, I’m chill,” Yoongi repeats and Namjoon looks down between them. Yoongi does have a nice dick, it’s fully hard now and curved, thick, but smaller than Namjoon, maybe on the longer side of average but Namjoon isn’t the best guy to ask what average is when he’s apparently got monster meat that he’d never noticed before.

“You sure? I mean, it’s not for everyone, from experience.”

“Namjoon-ah, please. I’ve got what the kids these days call a size kink.”

Namjoon barks out a startled laugh and gently slaps Yoongi’s thigh, eyes crinkling and dimples digging deep into his cheeks. “Hyung you're like twenty-five, you are the kids. But I’d like it, sure. Will you still call me baby?”

“Baby I’ll call you whatever the fuck you want if you let me sit on this,” Yoongi grins, giving Namjoon a slow stroke, base to tip. An embarrassing half-sigh half-moan sound leaves Namjoon’s mouth and he flushes while Yoongi smiles down at him, not teasing but it still feels a little sharper. “Tell you what-”

“Tell me, tell me,” Namjoon interrupts when Yoongi pauses for dramatic effect.

“Easy. Tell you what,” Yoongi starts again, hands leaving Namjoon’s dick to press into the muscles tensing in his belly to soothe him back down. “Tonight let me ride you, yeah? And in the morning, if you want, I’ll fuck you. Nice and slow, deep, just the way you like. Sound good?”

“Sounds great, come back down, I want to kiss you,” Namjoon agrees, tugging on Yoongi’s knees.

Yoongi chuckles but moves forward, close enough to dip down and press their lips together. It’s a little pathetic, how quickly Namjoon melts under Yoongi’s tongue, barely started and already whining. Gentle hands card through his hair and down his neck, tilting him where Yoongi wants him. Teeth graze barely against his neck and Namjoon moans, quiet and needy, and Yoongi humors him by sucking a bruise behind his ear. His hair would cover it, barely, but at least it’s easier to put concealer on.

Namjoon makes a strained noise, hands tightening around Yoongi’s waist and the back of his neck, when he feels Yoongi trying to pull away.

“Baby let me at least grab the lube,” Yoongi giggles, giving Namjoon another quick peck on his chin.

Namjoon still frowns when Yoongi is too far away, letting his hands wander over Yoongi’s body while he waits. He’s sort of gorgeous and it’s hard not to stare, not to press his hands into every bit of skin he can reach. It turns out the lube is actually not conveniently on the bedside table like it is at home, it’s back in Yoongi’s suitcase and he has to get completely off the bed to go dig around for it, cursing the whole time. Namjoon just grins, sitting up and watching Yoongi bent over his suitcase and unfolding all his clothes as he digs for what he’s looking for.

“Babe, do you carry condoms in your wallet?” Yoongi asks, frowning into a little black pouch he’s flipping through. “I packed for like, myself, not getting laid, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah jacket pocket,” Namjoon nods, reaching down to squeeze at the base of his dick while Yoongi watches. He raises an eyebrow and Yoongi dashes off into the bathroom to dig through Namjoon’s clothes.

Yoongi comes back and tosses his lube and the condom from Namjoon’s wallet on the bed like spoils of war before crawling up over the foot of the bed and into Namjoon’s lap. He settles back on his knees, hips rocking down against Namjoon when they finally come back together to kiss.

Namjoon lands on the mattress again with a huff as Yoongi pushes, looking playful as he shuffles down to rest between Namjoon’s spread legs. He picks up the lube, has Namjoon hold it for him as he gets comfortable before tipping it out into his hand. It’s like a dream, Yoongi laying on his belly with one leg bent out to give him better access as he reaches behind himself, fingers slick with lube. He almost asks to help, to have Yoongi come closer because Namjoon has no problem working Yoongi open, but his mind goes blank the moment Yoongi licks a stripe up his dick, base to tip, with the flat of his tongue.

“Can you be good for me?” Yoongi asks, free hand taking hold of Namjoon’s dick to tap against his bottom lip.

“Yes, promise, the best,” Namjoon is quick to agree, propping himself up on his elbows to watch.

“Good boy, let hyung play with you a bit,” Yoongi says, voice already rough, eyes a little hazy as he stares down the length of Namjoon dick.

Namjoon just nods, obedient, and watches Yoongi suck the tip of his cock into his eager mouth, tongue swirling around in loose circles. Namjoon doesn’t even breathe as Yoongi slowly tests how far he can go, pressing more and more of Namjoon into his mouth until he hits the back of his throat and gags. The arm stretched behind him is still moving, still working fingers into his own hole even though Namjoon can’t see it, can’t bring himself to look away from Yoongi slowly going faster, and getting messier on his dick. Drool drips down his length, pooling around the base where Yoongi’s fingers are loose, just holding him steady. It takes everything in him not to thrust up into Yoongi’s mouth as he starts to hollow out his cheeks, tongue pressed tight against the thick vein along the underside, playing with his slit when Yoongi has to pull off to get a proper breath. Namjoon threads one hand into Yoongi’s hair, just for something to hold onto, the other fists in the bedsheets to ground himself down, thighs shaking.

Soon Yoongi is testing his own gag reflex, the tip of Namjoon’s dick touching his throat on every downward movement. He pauses, Namjoon’s dick stretching his jaw, and grabs the hand in his hair.

“Sorry, sorry,” Namjoon whines, quickly letting go.

Yoongi just hums, vibrations making Namjoon choke on a moan, and grab Namjoon’s hand. He gently pulls Namjoon’s hand to curl around his throat, soft, not squeezing. Yoongi’s eyes are wet as they briefly make eye contact before he closes them and slides further down Namjoon’s dick, down into his throat, taking him deep enough that Namjoon can feel himself under his fingers. Yoongi swallows and Namjoon trembles, moaning helplessly and tipping his head up to the ceiling. He can’t fucking look or he’s going to come down Yoongi’s throat before they even get started.

A tight swallow and Yoongi slowly pulls completely off, panting and still connected by strings of spit. Yoongi moans quietly, resting his head against Namjoon’s hip, rutting down against the mattress as he keeps working his fingers into his own hole.

“Yoongi,” Namjoon sighs, carding both hands through his messy black hair. Yoongi only whines, free hand gripping Namjoon’s thigh like a lifeline.

“Fuck,” Yoongi curses, voice wrecked from Namjoon’s dick. “Fuck your’re so good, perfect, fuck give me a second. Just a second.”

“You ok hyung?”

“Great, just need to breathe for a second or I’m going to come the minute I sit on your dick,” Yoongi chuckles, cheek still pressed into the warm skin of Namjoon’s hip. 

He leaves a wet kiss there, just right of Namjoon’s dick, and gets up on his knees. One hand is still covered in lube so he tosses the condom wrapper over to Namjoon to handle and it’s embarrassing how quick he is to jump to attention and rip it open.

Yoongi watches him, eyes heady and dark, chest flushed pink nearly down to his navel, chin still slick with spit before he wipes it on the back of his clean hand. Once the condom is actually on they both work lube down his length before Yoongi gets up in a careful crouch, letting the tip of Namjoon’s dick rub against his rim to tease.

“Still going to be good for me?”

“Always,” Namjoon nods, too eager, hips kicking up just once before falling still.

“Careful baby, let me do it.”

Yoongi leans back, one hand planted firmly on Namjoon’s thigh to hold himself steady as he lets himself sink down on Namjoon’s dick in a controlled fall. The sight of Yoongi’s hole stretching open, more and more of his dick disappearing into Yoongi’s body, makes Namjoon whine.  He’s so fucking tight and hot, shivering under Namjoon’s hands when he reaches out to hold onto his waist. Yoongi’s eyes are unfocused, staring off somewhere else, eyebrows creased as he keeps sinking down until he sits fully on Namjoon’s pelvis. There are tears sitting on his lashline and Namjoon can’t figure out if he’s in pain, feeling good, or if it’s from jamming Namjoon's whole dick down his throat.

Namjoon groans, heels digging into the sheets. All he wants to do is thrust up into Yoongi’s tight hole, to do anything really, but Yoongi didn’t tell him he could. He has to be good.

“Just, just a minute,” Yoongi says, all breathy and sounding just as affected as Namjoon feels, both hands resting on Namjoon’s chest, head tipped back. “You’re so fucking deep.”

“Hyung,” Namjoon begs, chewing on his bottom lip.

“I know baby, I know. Feel good?” Yoongi shifts his hips, moaning as Namjoon moves inside him. Namjoon mirrors him, hands gripping tight to Yoongi’s hips and waist. Maybe he’ll leave bruises but Yoongi doesn’t seem to be complaining, just slowly testing how to move his hips.

Yoongi keeps adjusting, keeps clenching down on Namjoon and it’s not fair how tight he gets, almost too much so, both of them moaning in the quiet hotel room as Yoongi starts moving in earnest. His hips start to properly bounce and Namjoon is forced down into the mattress every time Yoongi lets himself drop back down on his dick. The rumbling hum of the room’s heater isn’t nearly enough to drown out the wet slap of their hips meeting, the rasp of Yoongi’s choked out moans. Namjoon isn’t given a chance to adjust, Yoongi switching to rocking back and forth, circling his hips, back to bouncing, his fingers digging into whatever bit of Namjoon he can get to anchor himself and get leverage. Eventually they link hands, neither seeming to care how cliche it is, Namjoon just holding on and letting Yoongi use it as better leverage to bounce his ass up and down on his dick.

Another drop back onto Namjoon’s dick and Yoongi shivers, panting, head tipped back and spine bent in a deep curve. Namjoon sits up, pulling Yoongi’s face down to kiss, one arm slung around his waist to hold Yoongi in place while he moves his own hips, testing what he’s allowed.

“Yeah, like that, good boy, fuck me,” Yoongi pants, their lips not meeting quite right as they move together. Yoongi’s dick leaves a slick trail of precome down Namjoon’s belly as it rubs between them, Yoongi moaning against his lips.

“Hyung, not gonna last, fuck, I’m sorry. You feel so good,” Namjoon groans, heat already coiling low in his gut. Yoongi just clenches down tighter on him, hands anchored on Namjoon’s shoulders as he rides him faster. Their bodies slap together and Namjoon shifts his legs again, holds Yoongi tighter before tipping them over, planting Yoongi on his back. “Still good?”

Yoongi nods, both hands digging little crescents with his nails into the back of Namjoon’s neck. Namjoon smirks, folding his pale legs up to his shoulders before properly thrusting into Yoongi’s heat. He can get leverage now, thrusting faster, longer, and Yoongi’s voice goes wire thin, higher and still rough like river gravel. Yoongi finally lets up his grip just enough to move one hand between them to fist his leaking dick, the other reaching back to hold onto the bedspread, trying desperately to keep himself in place as Namjoon pistons his hips.

“Fuck, baby, right there, right there, gonna come,”  Yoongi shouts as Namjoon tilts his hips for a better angle. Almost as soon as he says it Namjoon’s pace stutters from how he tightens and Yoongi is coming across his chest and between his own thighs from how Namjoon has him folded. The heat in Namjoon’s belly is pulled tight, white hot in his bones but he slows down, barely moving as Yoongi shivers.

“Hyung, please, please can I?” He isn’t against begging just to get Yoongi to tell him he’s good, that he did a good job, that he’s allowed to come.

“Yeah, it’s ok, come on baby, come for hyung,” Yoongi slurs, body going boneless beneath him, just warm, wet heat for Namjoon to keep thrusting into. “Pretty boy, so good for me,” Yoongi sighs, watching him with a fond little smile on his open mouth, and it’s all Namjoon needs. Blood rushes through his ears, body going still, his dick buried deep in Yoongi’s shivering body.

He’s quiet, like he always is, mouth open and eyes closed, probably looking ridiculous, but Yoongi still cups his cheek and rubs his back to coax him back to earth. It takes longer than it probably should to finally blink his eyes open, his body weak and shaky as he slowly sits back on his heels, holding the base of the condom to slip out of Yoongi. Yoongi stretches out with a high pitched whine, both legs flopping down on either side of Namjoon. Yoongi is flushed, happy looking, one hand still rubbing over one of Namjoon’s knees.

“You back with me?” Yoongi asks, curious. There’s no judging in his voice, just a curious interest now that Namjoon seems capable of focusing.

“Mm, yeah, yeah I think so. I love you,” Namjoon nods, arching his back until it pops.

“Love you too baby. Are you able to get up? I can’t but I could use a towel.”

He’s shakey on his legs but he still nods, wanting to be good to his hyung. To his boyfriend. He tosses the condom in the wastebin and shuffles into the bathroom to wash his hands and towel off the sweat and lube smeared across his chest and crotch. Yoongi is humming quietly, a little melody Namjoon isn’t familiar with, when he walks back out with a fresh damp cloth. A nod and he leans over to carefully mop up the mess they’d made of Yoongi, helping him roll over to get the lube between his cheeks.

“How do you feel about cuddling?” Yoongi is already sitting up and rearranging the sheets to crawl under them, looking like he isn’t about to let Namjoon get away without some. At least with Yoongi it doesn’t seem suffocating like most cuddling has always felt. Maybe it’s because he likes him so much.

“I could be convinced,” Namjoon mumbles, finding the borrowed tshirt to pull on again. “Sorry, I don’t like sleeping naked.”

“It’s alright, do you need me to put something on?”

“No, no you’re good. Thank you though. Scoot over,” Namjoon grins, content with not being looked at funny. He had a short lived girlfriend that thought he was weird for it, that not even her other girlfriends put clothes on after fucking. Namjoon had broken it off after their first night together and hadn’t felt too broken up about it.

They roll around a little until they get comfortable, Namjoon on his back with Yoongi pressed up against his hip, chin pillowed on his fist to look down at him. Yoongi doesn’t exactly hold eye contact but he does stare at Namjoon’s mouth, both of them grinning like idiots at each other now that the sex afterglow is starting to really settle over them like a warm blanket.

“You’re so pretty hyung,” Namjoon whispers, too afraid to break the comfortable little bubble around them by talking at full volume.

“And you’re sweet. Pretty baby,” Yoongi says, automatic. Namjoon flushes, hiding his face in Yoongi’s neck. “Do you not like me calling you that when we aren’t fucking? Or can I still call you my baby?”

“No, no I like it whenever. Feels nice. Fuck I still can’t believe you call me that.”

“And I can’t believe you’re here,” Yoongi laughs, gently stroking over Namjoon’s sides. “Such a romantic. What am I going to do with you huh? Do you celebrate every anniversary too? I’m not good with dates if you do, you’ll have to help me mark the calendar.”

“You can let me take you out on a date for one. When are you free next?”

Yoongi hums, rolling away from Namjoons arms briefly to snatch his phone off the charging port on the nightstand. He settles back in, curled up against Namjoon as he checks his calendar. It’s hard to miss that Holly is actually his phone background but Namjoon has a folder of maybe too many pictures of Moni on his phone and all his folder icons are changed to matching pictures of Ryan from kakaotalk so he’s probably not the one to judge other people’s phones.

“We have an interview tomorrow afternoon, but then we have a free day our manager gave us to see Tokyo a little, Hoseok might film a little for his vlog, and then we’re home. How long are you here?” Yoongi looks up at him, reaching out to push some of his fringe off his forehead.

“Oh I have no idea I didn’t get a return ticket. I have my room for two days though, I can probably extend it.”

“Namjoon-ah!”

“What? It was sort of last minute!”

“You’re a fucking drama protagonist, what is this, who are you,” Yoongi whines, rubbing aggressive circles over Namjoon’s stomach until he giggles and pins Yoongi’s hands back against his own chest. “Stupid romantic, how am I going to tell my friends this? I can’t compete with all this.”

“You want to tell your friends?”

“Just the ones that matter. Hobi already knows but I should probably finally let Jungkookie in on it. He’s been going a little insane trying to figure out who I’ve been so in love with.”

Namjoon hums, settles back into the mattress and Yoongi rolls back into his side, melting like he was made to fit there. “So I’ve never been to Disney…”

“Then let’s go. You can buy me overpriced theme park food and I won’t even fight you for the check.”

“Soft,” Namjoon giggles.

“Don’t tell anyone, I’ve got an image to keep, you know.”

They don’t talk much after that, Namjoon is too busy smiling and basking in the warm weight of Yoongi finally in his arms. He didn’t think it would actually feel this good, but it does, like his world finally tilting back into the proper axis. A puzzle piece he didn’t notice he was missing clicking into place. He isn’t fixed, he knows that, he’s still got some issues with his work anxiety and imposter syndrome, but what twenty year old in the arts didn’t. But it still feels easier, lighter, in his chest just being able to hold the guy he’s been in love with for months. It was supposed to be harder, because everything in his life was hard, needed to be fought and bled for, but this is easy, maybe the easiest thing he’s ever done. Yoongi flicks through his phone with drooping eyelids, looking at ticket prices for Disney. Apparently there’s a discount for two day tickets but they can’t afford both days and he grumbles sleepily about capitalist mice while buying one day tickets for the pair of them. He might be sending a text to his manager about his plans, Namjoon is already two steps into sleep at that point, squeezing Yoongi a little tighter before letting his eyes slip closed, face pressed to the top of Yoongi’s head.

He doesn’t dream, but he likes to think sleep comes easier, heavier, with Yoongi’s body heat up against him. It’s several hours before either of them start moving again.

Waking up has never been too big of an affair. An alarm wakes Namjoon up pretty easily, more recently a screaming cat has added an exciting shift, but it isn’t hard to wake Namjoon. He isn’t exactly functioning, but he’s usually awake pretty quick. Getting woken up via handjob however is new and exciting and it gets him from asleep to a confused little moan, hips kicking forward, in record time, no alarm needed.

“You’re cute when you’re sleepy,” Yoongi greets, voice rough from sleep, his hand still slowly stroking over Namjoon’s morning wood.

“Yoongi-hyung?” Namjoon mumbles, squeezing Yoongi closer to his chest. Yoongi’s forehead touches his collar bone, rubbing against him while still flicking his wrist. He’s still a little lost on what’s going on, frowning with his eyes closed, but he isn’t against it. Any touch from Yoongi is a wanted touch as far as Namjoon is concerned.

“So this voice really is just how you sound, huh? Honestly thought you were using a filter or maybe it was the phone. Do you change it for interviews?”

“Mmm, yeah. Hyung, please? You promised,” Namjoon whines, reaching down to take hold of Yoongi’s wrist and bring his hand around to his ass. They had talked the previous night. Yoongi got to ride him if Namjoon got to get dicked in the morning and Yoongi doesn’t need much more convincing, feeling around for where they’d managed to lose the lube the night before. Under the pillows apparently. Gentle hands guide Namjoon around to where Yoongi wants him, still loose and going easy. It’s on his belly, Namjoon curling his arms around one of the hotel pillows to rub his face into. He’s still half asleep, lazy and heavy, but Yoongi coaxes his legs apart, letting the blankets pool around the backs of his knees. The borrowed shirt gets pushed up his back, folded up against his shoulder blades so Yoongi has a full view over Namjoon’s back. The light from outside is still low, barely hinting to morning, the room still painted in the muted gray of pre-dawn, the soft yellow glow of the emergency light of the bathroom.

Still swathed in their own little bubble of quiet, Yoongi settles back against Namjoon’s hip, loose and content, syrup slow as he warms lube between his fingers. The bottle is pressed between them, their body heat warming it for when he needs to grab more.

“You still good for this pretty boy?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon breathes, turning his face to stare at Yoongi lounging next to him, like they’re talking about the weather, about music, not like Yoongi is teasing slick fingers between his ass cheeks.

“Such a good boy. You’re gorgeous."

Namjoon moans, still quiet, still sleepy, as Yoongi pressed a finger past his rim, slowly working him open. They aren’t in a rush, Yoongi leaning in to kiss him while his fingers keep moving inside him. Two fingers deep Yoongi finally finds his prostate, getting a little gasp against his lips for the trouble. Dawn is slowly rising, the light in the room warming as Yoongi works in a third finger, Namjoon rocking his hips back and forth. It’s heady, air thick and sticky with how much he wants Yoongi to just get in him, but Yoongi isn’t rushing so neither is he.

Yoongi will take care of him.

Another long whine from Namjoon as Yoongi pets over his sweet spot, thumb rubbing circles behind his balls, and Yoongi finally moves to sit on the backs of Namjoon’s thighs. He palms Namjoon’s ass and pulls his cheeks apart, thumbs rubbing over his clenching hole. Yoongi tries to get up off the bed, probably to find a condom but Namjoon hooks his foot over Yoongi’s leg, locking him down. As if asking a question Yoongi rubs his bare dick over Namjoon’s rim and he nods into the pillow, sighing as Yoongi pushes in. Both his hands rub up and down Namjoon’s back, thumbs digging into the dip of his spine at the small of his back and Namjoon tries to lift his hips up to meet Yoongi. More weight gets leaned into him, teeth grazing over his back and Yoongi presses him down into the mattress until he stops trying to move.

It starts slow, a long deep drag of Yoongi’s dick in and out, Namjoon already feeling his dick leak where it’s trapped beneath him against the sheets. Yoongi keeps that pace until Namjoon is trying to move again, whining and clutching tighter to his pillow.

“Want it faster baby?”

“Harder,” Namjoon says, arching his hips up, trying to look as appealing as he can. He clenches himself tighter, trying to make it good for Yoongi, entice him to really fuck into him.

It works. Yoongi adjusts, getting his knees planted more firmly into the sheets before snapping his hips forward to slap against Namjoon’s ass. He holds Namjoon open with both hands so he can grind in even deeper, working up to a proper speed. Moans tumble out of him no matter how much he tries to hide his face in the pillow, his back arching as Yoongi fucks him deep and strong enough to get him rocking up the bed. As Yoongi keeps moving he has to let go of the pillow to press one hand to the headboard to keep himself from moving, to get enough leverage to press back because Yoongi refuses to give him enough room to get up on his knees. The orgasm that hits him is a surprise, a shout shocked out of him as he shakes, coming into the sheets beneath him. He moans, shivering as Yoongi keeps fuckign into him, louder than he ever is.

“Where do you want it baby, tell me where,” Yoongi says, desperate, his rhythm getting erratic and sharp as he keeps fucking Namjoon through the aftershocks.

“Outside, outside, on me,” Namjoon pants, tugging on one of Yoongi’s knees. It’s instant, how Yoongi slips out and Namjoon can barely look over his shoulder fast enough to catch Yoongi jerking himself off before he’s painting Namjoon’s ass and lower back with his come. Namjoon groans, flopping back down. His toes curl and he whines as Yoongi slips two fingers back inside him, playing for a bit until Namjoon shivers.

“Cute.”

“Take a picture,” Namjoon mumbles, turning his head.

“Yeah? You want me to?”

“Yeah, send it to me. Wanna see what I look like when you’re done with me,” Namjoon shrugs, smiling as Yoongi tips over to grab for his phone. He gets pulled open again, Yoongi really getting a good money shot of his ass gaping and covered in come, Namjoon glancing over his shoulder, probably flushed and looking well and truly fucked out.

His phone dings from the dining table and Yoongi smiles, giving his ass a soft slap before getting up to find something to clean him up. There’s still a wet spot under him and his ass is cold, but if he had to rate it it’s probably one of the better ways he’s been woken up in recent memory. Yoongi lets him rest, drifting in and out after he’s cleaned as best he can be without a proper shower, tucked back in on one side of the bed while Yoongi sits nearby tapping at his phone. It’s brighter out when he gets gently shaken awake, a kiss between his eyebrows easing his frown.

“Hey baby, you wanna shower and get dressed? Hoseok offered to take us to breakfast. You can eat then go back to your hotel to sleep some more?”

“Yeah, yeah sounds good.”

It takes longer than it probably should to get them both crammed into the hotel shower and cleaned up only because they can’t keep their hands to themselves, but eventually they both wander down, freshly washed and clothed. Namjoon is wearing the same pants and a new borrowed sleep shirt of Yoongi’s, his hat now  back on his own head. Yoongi even let him use his toothbrush because ‘fuck it I had your dick in my throat, can’t hurt’ before they rushed out. Thankfully neither of them had to make eye contact with any of the cleaning staff that was going to have to change those sheets.

Hoseok does treat them to breakfast at a restaurant a couple blocks away, being polite enough to not make too much fun of them since they’re in public. He does give them both a soft smile when he catches Namjoon being casual with one arm behind Yoongi in their corner booth. He can’t see how Namjoon is tracing nonsense shapes in the thin fabric of Yoongi’s shirt beneath his jacket, but Namjoon flushes all the same. They part because both of them have an interview to go to and Namjoon wants to relax for a while before going out to run around Tokyo and collect his required souvenirs for his friends. They don’t kiss when they part but Hoseok does playfully punch him in the arm and Yoongi flicks the lip of his hat, just friendly hyung gestures.

Three blocks away he checks his phone to find a text from Yoongi letting him know he still loves him.

They do end up going to Disney the next day, just wandering around like two normal guys, not two popular rappers, doing dumb couple stuff and pretending they aren’t. Namjoon takes his hand to pull him to the next ride, Yoongi takes too many pictures of him wearing dumb hats. They buy stuffed animals and enough junk food and candy to make their personal trainers back home cry. But it’s fun, it’s easy, and Namjoon doesn’t question it because he’s too happy to let his own brain ruin it for him. By the time he gets home, alone because Yoongi has some more comeback and tour engagements in Seoul, he feels better than he has in months and none of his friends will let him just live his life. It’s too much to ask for privacy apparently.

Except for Jimin, because he tells Jimin everything in excruciating detail over coffee a couple days later, recounting to his best friend over complicated dessert lattes how well he got his back blown out before Yoongi bought him tickets to Disney.

Everyone agrees that they’re sickeningly good for each other and when they find out about the bi-monthly movie night at Hoseok’s apartment his friends demand an invite. The seven of them are a bit insane together, as Namjoon expected, but it’s nice, everything is nice. Seokjin flirts with Hoseok and asks to get drinks together four times before Hoseok is able to answer with anything other than an embarrassed whole body laugh. Jimin and Taehyung declare they’ve adopted Jungkook and Seokjin is immediately endeared by his big bambi eyes. Namjoon says his tattoo is cool and Jungkook doesn’t say another word the rest of the night, too busy being flushed to his ears and sandwiched between Jimin and Taehyung.

Later Yoongi assures him it’s fine, the kid loves them, he’s just shy and sort of in love with Namjoon so it’s fine. Just starstruck.

Being together with Yoongi is easy, the easiest thing in his life, but dating is hard. They have to dance around schedules to get lunch dates and every so often people catch photos of them together that get trending on twitter but neither will say more than “Yeah we hang out sometimes” because it isn’t really anyone’s business. The fans seem pretty pleased with it at least. A picture of the two of them walking Holly in the park once it’s warm enough is a personal favorite that even Namjoon saves to send to Yoongi. Shortly after they both upload selcas from the same day to their main twitter accounts, tagging each other and saying they had a good day out with a good friend. It’s hard work, but it’s worth it when he comes home and Yoongi is waiting for him, having already let himself in, cooking them dinner at the rarely used stove while Moni sleeps in the pocket of his apron and Holly sleeps on the sofa. Eventually they’ll have to come out because eventually they’ll move in together, they’ve promised and they keep sending each other apartment listings and pictures of Ikea showrooms of furniture they like. Eventually they’ll deal with whatever fallout they have because fuck it they have money, they can afford to sink into obscurity as unnamed producers eventually if it comes to that.

They care more about each other than what anyone else has to say about their relationship at the end of the day.

Yoongi still makes him music, Namjoon still writes him songs, things change but really things don’t. He’s in love and now when he has to have his biannual emotional breakdown on his living room floor Yoongi lays down next to him, close enough to kiss. Close enough to listen to his heartbeat, which is better than any music he could have ever found.