Jin isn’t quite sure what to say whenever he’s left alone with Namjoon and Yoongi.
It’s not that he’s an awkward person, because he’s not. He’s one of the most outgoing people he’s ever known. It’s just that Namjoon and Yoongi seem…untouchable.
If he were with only one of them, he’d have no problem speaking up, telling a few jokes. But when they’re together, he feels like if he speaks he’ll be intruding. Which is stupid, because they’re all friends, but he can’t help it. Jungkook said the same, but Jungkook is also nervous around anyone older than him, so Seokjin doesn’t feel bad about not taking his word for it.
He usually leaves them alone if it comes down to only the three of them, but in this case, the bar is crowded and Yoongi had asked Jin to stay once Taehyung and Jimin fucked off with their hands nearly down each other’s pants, and he can’t exactly run off to the bar when Yoongi looks like he actually wants to talk to Seokjin this time. It’s not long before Yoongi looks up from his drink, smiles at Seokjin, and asks how he gets his knife noodles the right texture because he never can and he feels like he’s fucking up Namjoon’s favourite meal.
Namjoon leans against the bar while Yoongi and Jin talk in front of him. He smiles and laughs occasionally, attempting to follow the topics, but it's hard. Eventually, Namjoon turns to his phone, unable to participate in the conversation. He didn’t’ even know Yoongi could talk like this about cooking, but he guesses that Yoongi’s the one that cooks all their meals so he’s got to know something about it. He hasn’t let Namjoon near the cooker since his sausages got stuck to the oven door.
Instead, he scrolls through his phone, opening and closing different apps, replying to a message from his sister and liking some photos of people from school that he couldn’t actually give two shits about.
When Yoongi excuses himself to go to the toilet, Jin turns to Namjoon, feeling more relaxed now that he’s broken the ice with Yoongi.
He still doesn’t know what to talk about with Namjoon, but he’s sure he’ll find something. He’s only known Namjoon for about a month, since he and Yoongi transferred to their university from South Korea for their second year, but how hard could it be?
Apparently, very hard.
“Yoongi tells me you’re a disaster in the kitchen,” Seokjin tries, and immediately wants to hit himself. How the fuck is that a good conversation starter?
Namjoon chuckles awkwardly and looks embarrassed. “Yeah, he’s gotta cook all our meals. I’m the clumsiest person I know.”
Seokjin isn’t sure how to reply. It seems all his social skill have disappeared into thin air and he doesn’t think he’s felt this awkward since his crush in high school rejected him in front of everyone.
So, he takes a long sip of his beer and avoids Namjoon’s eyes. He’s fucking this up entirely.
A small figure makes its way through the crows to them, and Seokjin would’ve assumed it to be Yoongi, but Yoongi would never wear a crop top. Or leather pants. Or maybe he would, but Seokjin knows Yoongi had left for the bathroom in a plain black t-shirt, jeans and leather jacket ensemble, not the glitzy mess this poor lad is twisting through the dance floor in.
The more he looks, the more he wonders if this guy is any older than 17. He’s short, maybe shorter than Yoongi, with plump cheeks, dark hair and thin lips that curl into a smirk the closer he gets to the bar. His eyes are wide, masked by coloured contacts, and trained on Namjoon.
He wonders if Namjoon might get lucky tonight. He’s never seen Namjoon with a girl, or a boy, and he’s never mentioned one either. Taehyung once asked if he had a girlfriend.
“No,” he’d answered as if it was obvious, and they’d left it at that.
Namjoon looks wary as the boy approaches. Seokjin isn’t sure why, because the boy is quite attractive. Of course, he looks several years underage and he wouldn’t want Namjoon arrested. It wouldn’t help their case that they themselves had used a fake ID to get into the club.
He watches as the boy sidles up to the bar beside them, eyes still glued to Namjoon’s face, which is looking more uncomfortable as the seconds go by.
“Hey,” he purrs, and Namjoon visibly swallows. The boy smiles, seems to take it as a sign of arousal, but Seokjin is getting the idea that Namjoon wants to get the fuck out of there.
“I don’t speak English,” Namjoon blurts out, in fully fluent English.
Seokjin nearly screams. The boy looks Korean, and Namjoon seems to realise he’s royally fucked up from the way his face twists into what Seokjin identifies as pure terror.
The boy doesn’t seem to notice, with the way he’s staring at Namjoon’s chest, exposed from the half-open button down he’s wearing. Namjoon wants to button up those last few inches, but his hands are full of his and Yoongi’s drinks, and instead he cranes his neck, searching for the third member of their party.
“My name’s Jinsoo.” Namjoon visibly deflates, resigned to his fate. “And yours?” the boy moves closer, too close, and looks up at Namjoon through his lashes.
Namjoon opens his mouth, ready to respond, but a small, pale hand shoots out to hold his elbow, and he slams it shut.
“Who are you?” comes Yoongi’s low voice, directed at Jinsoo. Seokjin was wrong. Yoongi’s actually shorter than this boy, but if looks could kill, Jinsoo would be a smouldering skeleton on the floor, and that’s got to count for something, Seokjin thinks.
“Who are you?” Jinsoo shoots back, a nasty look twisting his features. “I was here first.”
Yoongi’s look of disbelief switches from Jinsoo to Namjoon to Seokjin and back again in about two seconds.
“Actually, he was- “
“if you have your eyes on this giant here, think again.” Yoongi interrupts Namjoon’s hesitant defence, throwing a split-second long apologetic look his way before glueing his eyes back onto Jinsoo.
“Why?” the taller boy snarls. he doesn’t look anything like he did a minute before. Uglier, maybe. “I had him first. You can’t just come in- “
“I’m his husband, you fucking idiot.” Yoongi deadpans, tightening his hold on Namjoon’s bicep.
Seokjin’s impressed. Not many men would pretend to be married to their best friend to fend off an unwanted suitor. He wasn’t sure of Yoongi’s stance on LGBT shit, so he’d never really approached the subject in case Yoongi got mad. Seokjin’s glad he doesn’t seem to have a problem with it.
“You think I’m going to believe that?” Jinsoo laughs. “I’ve had my eye on him for twenty minutes and you weren’t even talking to him!”
Yoongi’s face shifts. He doesn’t just look mad, he looks fucking enraged.
He lets go of Namjoon and steps closer to the boy, and despite their height difference, Seokjin has no doubt Yoongi’s going to win the fight that is definitely about to happen.
“Do you want the fucking certificate? I have the photos, if your flat ass wants them. Are you really going to question my marriage?”
Yoongi doesn’t touch him, but he goes close enough that Seokjin’s sure Jinsoo can feel the shorter man’s breath. He knows Yoongi won’t start anything physical. Yoongi’s always been the one to break up the fights between Jimin and Taehyung and they’ve never seen him actually fight anyone, like, with fists.
It looks like that’s about to change though. Halfway into Yoongi’s tirade, Seokjin had slipped his phone out and opened up the camera.
“You’re not married! He never even mentioned you!” Jinsoo shouts, louder than the music, and People turn to stare. The bartender even puts down the glass he’s cleaning to keep his eye on the two tiny men.
Although the majority of the other bar-goers don’t seem to understand the rapid-fire Korean being screamed from two sets of tiny lungs, they find it no less amusing.
Seokjin looks at Namjoon, wondering if he’s going to step in and stop his best friend from fighting. But Namjoon looks resigned, and slightly amused, to Seokjin decided he’ll keep recording. He’s got a pretty good view of both men, and finds himself pretty thankful. This is the best entertainment he’s had for weeks.
“He didn’t mention me because you never gave him the chance to speak, you stupid cunt- “
Jinsoo’s arm swings, too quick for Seokjin to register, and his palm collides with Yoongi’s smooth cheek in a large crack that almost echoes in the silence left over. The music has stopped. A quick glance confirms the DJ’s on his break.
Shit, Seokjin thinks, as Yoongi brings a hand to his reddening cheek.
And then, quicker than lightning, both of Yoongi’s hands come up to grab two fistfuls of Jinsoo’s hair and bring the taller man’s face down on his bent knee. There’s a sickening crack.
But he doesn’t stop there. He keeps his grip on Jinsoo’s long black hair, drags him to the ground, and starts raining heavy punches on him.
“Oh my god,” Seokjin whispers over Jinsoo’s cries.
“You bitch ass- “He can hear his friend scream. After a few seconds, Jinsoo’ sobs get more hysterical, and Namjoon steps forward.
“Yoongi,” he calls, but it’s no use.
“Telling me about MY OWN FUCKING MARRIAGE- “
Wow, Jin thinks, he’s really getting into this whole married thing.
“Let go! Stop! Help! Help!” Jinsoo keeps screaming, tears dripping from his face onto the floor. Seokjin feels a bit sorry for him. But then again, he had thrown the first punch, so maybe not.
“Yoongi,” Namjoon shouts, louder this time, but Yoongi ignores him. He stops hitting Jinsoo, instead yanking his hair back and forcing the boy to look at him.
Fucking hell, how old are you anyway?” Yoongi sounds a bit out of breath, but it’s nothing compared to Jinsoo’s red face, soaked with tears.
“Nineteen,” Jinsoo stutters out, stopping his crying for a moment.
“Listen here,” Yoongi says, his face hardening. “if your saggy ass comes anywhere near my fuckin’ husband again, I won’t think before I break your fucking ribs. Do you hear me?”
Jinsoo nods frantically, and Yoongi flicks his cheek once before releasing him. Jinsoo’s friends come up to help him up as Yoongi turns back to the bar. Seokjin can see from one looks at the bartender’s face that they’re about three seconds away from being thrown out. Yoongi doesn’t seem to give a shit, though, taking his beer bottle from Namjoon’s hand and quickly finishing it.
As he’s on his last gulp, he lurches forwards, pushed from the back.
He doesn’t hesitate to spin around and slam the bottle into Jinsoo’s fluffy head.
“Shit,” Seokjin yells, eyes widening, camera still recording, focused on Jinsoo’s limp body on the floor before their feet. Yoongi seems to panic too, grabbing Namjoon and Seokjin and fucking legging it.
They race out the bar, through the crowd of shocked students, and into the streets. The cold slaps them in the face but they keep running in the direction of their dorms. He doesn’t doubt the police have been called, but there are three universities in this area and none of the people in there were from their own. Yoongi knows he could be arrested for several things tonight. He can only hope he won’t be found.
But once they get back to his and Namjoon’s flat, all he can do is laugh. Seokjin and Namjoon collapse on the couch, but Yoongi stays standing, laughing his fucking head off like a madman.
Then suddenly, it stops.
“Shit.” He whispers, eyes wide. Shit indeed, Seokjin thinks.
“it was really nice though, what you did. Pretending to be Namjoon’s husband. I mean, you didn’t have to take it that far, but I’d love to have a best friend like you.” Seokjin chirps with all the energy he can muster. He just wants to sleep, but Yoongi needs cheering up. He’s a wanted man.
But Yoongi just looks confused. A quick glance at Namjoon shows the same look.
“What?” Yoongi asks.
“I said, pretending to be Namjoon’s husband was really nice of you.” He clarifies. But Yoongi still looks confused.
“Jin,” he starts carefully. “We aren't pretending. We're married.”
Jin gapes. No way. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, we’re fuckin’ serious. We’ve been married since July, what the fuck, Jin.” Yoongi answers, looking just as bewildered as Jin.
“Fucking July?” Seokjin wails. “It’s February! Why didn't you tell me?”
“We thought you knew! How can you not know we’re married?” Namjoon speaks up.
“You never said anything! Tae asked if you had a girlfriend months ago and you didn’t say anything about being married!” Seokjin exclaims.
“We wear matching rings, live in a one-bedroom apartment, and regularly go on dates. What the fuck did you think we were?”
Seokjin’s quiet for a moment, and then mumbles something unintelligible.
“What?” Yoongi presses.
“I just thought your friendship was really strong,” Jin whispers, mortified.
Silence. Then- “Oh my god. Oh my god, Jin. Strong enough to sleep in the same bed every night?” Yoongi bursts out.
“I don’t know! You never said! Nobody knows!” Jin shrieks back.
“What the fuck do you mean nobody knows!”
As Seokjin sits in the library the next day with his textbooks spread out on the table before him, untouched, he thinks about the shitstorm that went down last night. He thinks about everything he's seen of Namjoon and Yoongi's friendship - or, relationship- and decides that the fuckers must be lying.
He's known them since the start of September, when they transferred to Seokjin's university and Yoongi got put in Seokjin's acting class accidentally. He'd immediately known that Yoongi needed a friend- and that friend was gonna be him, fuck you Somin.
And with Yoongi came Namjoon. Seokjin had never thought much about their relationship, but sometimes stopped to admire it when Yoongi would give Namjoon his extra meat, or when Namjoon offered Yoongi piggybacks when his feet ached.
But even thinking about it now, the signs of a marriage just aren't there. They'd never seemed like more than friends to Seokjin. They touched as much as they touched anyone else in their group, which admittedly was not a lot. Seokjin couldn't deny the fact that they shared one bedroom, but he'd never actually been in the bedroom, so he can't say there's only one bed. he couldn't see any kind of couple photos in their apartment, just a few family ones. They can't be married. It's impossible.
But of course, instead of calling the music majors up and asking if they're just trying to pull off an elaborate prank, he dials Jimin. Jimin will know what to do.
Jimin did not know what to do.
In fact, Jimin came up with the shittest idea Seokjin's heard since his classmate asked if she could do some method acting for the part of a heroin addict.
"I'm not breaking into their bedroom, Jimin. Why are you such an asshole, oh my god-"
"It's a good idea!" Jimin protests loudly, flipping his newly blond hair out of his face.
"Don't shout, we're in the library!" Seokjin whisper-shouts. "And no, it's really not!"
Jimin's eyes narrow. "It's a great idea, you're such a killjoy. This way, you get to know if there is only one bed. The room is always locked, Tae tried to go in there once when he spilt tomato soup on his shirt. You have to break in. It's the only option, hyung." Jimin looks so serious, leant forward in his chair with his eyes trained on Seokjin that the older man almost wants to laugh.
"I'll figure it out, alright? But I'm not breaking in, your logic is fucked, seriously- "
Hoseok has a key to Yoongi and Namjoon's apartment.
Nobody knows how he acquired this key, not even the elder two themselves. Hoseok says they gave it to him so he could water their plants while they were visiting their hometown, but Yoongi says that's complete bullshit. Namjoon didn't even know they had plants.
It's with this key, stolen from Hoseok's "special drawer" (crammed with pictures of dogs, some weed and a shank), that Seokjin unlocks the door to the apartment one day when Yoongi and Namjoon are in class.
Once he's in, he shuts the door quietly, not wanting to alert the neighbours, and also trying to avoid the reality that he's literally trespassing. He's a criminal now. He might as well go and rob a bank to round out the criminal activities under his belt. Fuck.
Hoseok didn't have the key to the bedroom, but as Seokjin stands before the unassuming off-white door, he thinks it can't hurt to give the doorknob a try before he takes out his multiple bobby pins and Jungkook's amateur lock-picking kit. He takes a moment to psych himself up, hand resting on the silver knob, taking deep breaths and trying not to think about the various horrors Yoongi could be hiding in there. Maybe he has the posters from his emo phase last Halloween; maybe he has a knife collection or a dead body. Hoseok pales. Maybe he has a collection of dead bodies- or worse, dead pets.
He hears a mewl behind the door. Fuck, there's a dying cat--
He shoves the door open, loudly and dramatically, as anyone would expect from Kim Seokjin, but the scene isn't what he himself was expecting. The first thing he registers is the expanse of pale skin in his view.
"What the fuck, Jin!"
Yoongi is naked. He is very naked, very flushed, and also very much sitting on Kim Namjoon's dick.
"Oh my god," Seokjin breathes. His face feels like it's been drained of all colour, his eyes trained on the bodies in the middle of the large bed. The only bed. Shit.
"Seokjin, get the fuck out of our room now." Yoongi's voice is low and dangerous, almost a growl. Seokjin's scared shitless, even as Yoongi blushes under his gaze and pulls the blanket up to hide his dick.
Seokjin turns and runs, not even bothering to shut the door behind him. He goes to sit on the sofa, knowing Yoongi will want to grill him once he's...finished.
Sure enough, Yoongi comes out of the room a few minutes later, followed by a red-faced Namjoon. Seokjin's still perched uncomfortably on the edge of the couch, staring unseeingly at the wall above the house plants. He's traumatised. When Namjoon sits on the chair in front of him, Seokjin can see that his dick is still hard through the thin material of his sweatpants. He licks his lips nervously.
"Oh my god," he whispers brokenly as Yoongi opens his mouth.
"So, hyung." He starts. "Would you like to explain why you thought it was okay to barge into our bedroom?"
Seokjin could reply with many things, all of which were probably better than what he came out with.
"But I didn't actually think you were married!"