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“Wake up, you wretched creature.”

Jungkook grunts, rolling himself tighter in his bedspread.

“I said,” Seokjin tightens his voice like he tightens his grip, “wake up!”

With a yank, Jungkook is fucking freezing. Seokjin stands above him, bedspread in his hands and a look on his face like he’d just done a magic trick for a bunch of decidedly unworthy single cell organisms.

“What the hell, hyung?! It’s a day off! Gimme my blanket and get the fuck out!” For some reason Jungkook’s hands are covering his nipples. His dick is safely encased in sweatpants but his modesty is under attack.

“I’ve seen your nipples before,” Seokjin announces, “and we’re going out for lunch, remember?” 

That’s right. Their days off had been too few and far between, and the temptation to have too many bottles of soju too great. This meant that a pretty fucked up Jungkook had made some promises last night he now deeply regretted, including filling in for Yoongi as Seokjin’s lunch date since Yoongi now had the chance to grab some time with a producer they’d brought over from… Sweden? Jungkook isn’t sure - but he is sure that no meal could be worth dealing with this hangover out in public.

Seokjin’s started rolling up the bedspread, hitting it a little more than is strictly necessary, if Jungkook is honest. Hands still on his nips, he widens his eyes at Seokjin, bottom lip sticking out just a little. It’s dry from sleep and sticks to his thinner top lip so it ends up looking a bit more like a grimace, but the point still stands.

“Hyung,” he whines, drawing a slow, dead-eyed blink from Seokjin, “can’t you just bring me something back?”

“Have we met?” Seokjin asks, twisting his face into an expression of exaggerated confusion. It's a good face, Jungkook notices. Not that he hadn’t noticed before (Seokjin pointed it out enough), but sometimes, in the early morning or late at night, Jungkook stalls a little as his brain processes it. Luckily, Seokjin’s terrible personality reboots him, pokes him in his ribs and slaps his stomach.

Jungkook rolls over and shoves his face in his pillow, hoiking up his sweatpants in the motion. “Unfortunately,” he mumbles.

“JK, I know you don’t give a single shit about me, but I’d hoped, I’d prayed, to all the Gods, old and new, that you cared about…” Seokjin heaves a sigh, “society…”

“What are you talking about.” Jungkook intones into his pillow.

“The people need to see me, Jungkook, it’s for their own good. Their edification. So they can go about their day with one bright spot. So get,” he yanks the pillow out from under Jungkook’s head, nearly breaking something in the process, “the fuck out of bed. I want to eat food in a restaurant on my one day off, I’m not going to eat alone, and everyone else is out, doing things. You’re my last resort.”

“Why can’t you take your boyfriend?” Jungkook asks, rubbing his neck with a scowl. “Why can’t he take some responsibility?”

“Not that it’s any of your business-“

“It is if I’m getting out of bed to cover for him-“

“But he couldn’t get the time away from the office.” Seokjin sticks his nose in the air, “Two days notice isn’t enough for a professional salary man like him, only for louts like you.”

“None of this is making me want to eat food with you.”

“Fine. Hyung’s paying.”

“Give me five minutes.”



The amount Seokjin can fit into his mouth never gets old. Gross, sure, but never old. It’s like watching a boa constrictor swallow its prey, Jungkook marvels, chin in hand and elbow balanced on the cluttered table.

They’d really gone for gold, side dish-wise. Granted, they don’t often get to come to little hole in the wall places like this - more often than not they have to order takeaways, which meant they all placed a group order, no redos or else they’d be there for hours and if you made a mistake you only had yourself to blame. But now they were here, and not two minutes had passed without Seokjin raising his hand and shouting out to the fast-walking waitress for more of something, or a request for something new.

Two minutes had passed without them talking, in fact maybe four minutes. Possibly six? Shovelling another mouthful of miyeok muchim into his mouth, Jungkook asks, “So, what’s up?”

Seokjin keeps his eyes on his chopsticks and furrows his brow. “...Nothing?” he answers.

“Cool.” Jungkook replies, nodding.

“What’s up.... with you?” Seokjin asks, as if obliged.

“Oh, y’know. Not much?”

“Sure.” Seokjin agrees. “Can I keep on eating now?”

Jungkook straightens in his chair, only half-affecting offence, “You invited me!”

“That doesn’t mean I want to talk, I just didn’t want to sit here alone.” Seokjin explains, eyes widening innocently as he wraps his mouth around a mountain of rice piled on his chopsticks.

Jungkook takes him in for a second, trying to control the twitch of his lips. He pointedly stabs at a good-looking slice of beef he’s hoping Seokjin has had his eye on, maintains direct eye contact when he places it in his mouth, and chews noisily.

“Mmm, delicious,” he groans, smacking his lips obnoxiously, “I can see why you wanted to come here. Thanks for paying, hyung.” With a grin, he calls out to the waitress, “Excuse me!”

She looks in their direction, slightly raising her eyebrows.

“Some more of your most expensive beef!” Jungkook requests grandly, “Thank you!”

Seokjin stares at him, cheeks bulging as he chews and swallows.

“Not that I don’t admire the energy,” he says, refocusing on the food in front of him, ‘but did you forget we’re, like, grossly rich? Like, so rich that Yoongi has to be constantly distracted as soon as he’s had more than two glasses of wine so he doesn’t rant about the downsides of capitalism for what might literally be the two thousandth time? So rich that Namjoon,” he takes another bite, “Namjoon - excuse me,” he swallows, chopsticks in the air as if to hold his place, “has to make secret donations to homeless shelters just in order to sleep at night? I’ve lost more Swarovski crystals off my customised Margiela boots than most people have seen in their lives, just for a Fashion Moment. And it was a good one. Those puffed sleeves? Unreal. Where was I?”

“We’re very rich.” Jungkook states.

“Right, yes. Beef. Try harder.”

Jungkook grunts, takes a sip of his water and leans back in his chair.

“I’m full.” He declares.

“You just ordered more-” Seokjin rolls his eyes, gives up, “Well I’m not. So, I don’t know, tell me something, if you must. While you wait, because you’re not about to ditch me just because you’ve got the stomach capacity of a dormouse.”

“I’ll pass.” Jungkook declares, before pulling his phone out of his pocket to scroll through. He’s unable to resist a dig, mumbling, “are you sure your boyfriend’s working?”

Surprisingly, Seokjin stops eating. Even more surprisingly, he raises his head and asks, “Excuse me?”

“Huh?” Jungkook says, eyebrows furrowing.

Seokjin licks his lips, pausing before continuing with uncommon care, “What do you mean, ‘am I sure my boyfriend’s working’?”

“Uh…” Jungkook blinks, suddenly not entirely certain his joke stands up to inspection. “Because he might just not want to have lunch with you because you’re… such a joy to be around?”

Seokjin’s face goes blank. It’s the kind of blank it goes when they’re in a business meeting and he doesn’t like what’s being proposed, but hasn’t decided how to respond. It’s the kind of blank that makes Jungkook a little nervous.

Jungkook has never really known where the line is with Seokjin, but it appears he’s crossed it.

“I mean,” Jungkook panics, “...but in a funny way?”

Seokjin’s lips tighten.

“Hyung…” Jungkook starts before he knows how the sentence is going to end, “I - I was joking?”

Seokjin’s nostrils twitch as he inhales. “Of course you were,” he says, plastering a big, shiny grin on his face as he picks through the bowls in front of him. “Have you seen me? What’s not to like?” This is directed to the piece of kimchi held between his chopsticks, before he sticks it in his mouth and bites down firmly.  

Beyond confused, Jungkook nods and spots a nice bit of beef on Seokjin’s plate. He steals it, just on principle.



If you asked Jungkook, he’d loudly tell you (preferably in earshot of Seokjin) that he spends most of his time actively trying to ignore him. So as the days pass since their lunch, since Seokjin’s weird face and voice and words that Jungkook didn’t understand and liked even less, it’s been pretty annoying to carry around a super tiny, totally chill pit of worry in his stomach that flares up anytime he so much as looks at Seokjin or hears his ridiculous laugh.

It’s when he’s standing next to Hoseok one night, just before bed, and they’re in front of the sink brushing their teeth that he finally thinks about saying something. There’s at least thirty seconds left on Hoseok’s toothbrushing-timer, but now that he’s decided, Jungkook can’t wait. It’s worth a lecture on dental hygiene to stop, spit and ask, “Is everything okay with Jin and his boyfriend?”

Hoseok’s eyebrows rise, but he continues brushing steadily. Jungkook should have known that he wouldn’t be willing to compromise. Resigning himself to wait out the remaining now-twenty seconds, Jungkook rinses his mouth, pats his face dry, and leans with one hip against the sink.

Eventually, Hoseok does the same, except for the leaning part.

“Jin-hyung,” he corrects.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, repeats himself. “Is everything okay with Jin-hyung and his boyfriend?”

Hoseok purses his lips, checks out his teeth in the mirror. He’s stalling. Jungkook knows he’s no Namjoon, but he’s not idiotic enough to fall for this.

“What brought this on?” Hoseok asks, now starting to stretch and roll his shoulders.

Jungkook nibbles at his bottom lip for a second, before explaining.

“It was weird, I made a joke about his boyfriend ditching him because he’s a pain in the ass-”


“I’ve said worse!”

“Is that the point?!”

Jungkook winces. “I think so? Maybe? Because normally, he’d just, like, hit me or talk about how anyone would be lucky to have him but… I don’t know. He was weird about it.”

Hoseok’s gaze sharpens, “Weird how?”

“I don’t know! Just more, like. Like it mattered. Like I might be serious, or something. It was weird. I didn’t like it.”

Hoseok rolls his lips between his teeth, “Sounds like you just… caught him off guard. You know you can be a little… you guys together, sometimes. He’s…”

“Obnoxious?” Jungkook supplies.

“Sensitive, you butthole. Sensitive.”

Jungkook hums a little, teasingly doubtful.

Hoseok fixes him with a look. “I know it’s easier to forget with him, because he seems like nothing gets to him. And he’s your hyung-”

Jungkook mostly agrees but has to mutter, “He’s basically a toddler, mentally.”

“Shut up.” Hoseok instructs, waggling a finger in Jungkook’s face. He’s hesitant before continuing, “Jin-hyung puts a lot of effort into seeming unbothered by stuff. It’s - it’s a lot of work, and I don’t want to put words in anyone’s mouth but...sometimes being a bit more gentle might be good.”

Hoseok looks at Jungkook, eyes searching before he hurries to continue, “Not that he’s not- he doesn’t need babying, I’m not-”

“I know, hyung.” Jungkook says, thinking it over. “He’s a big boy.”

“He is,” Hoseok laughs, surprised, “He’s also probably tired, like we both are, which means we should go to bed and get a good night’s sleep. Are your sheets clean?”

It’s a clear end to the conversation, but one Jungkook’s willing to go along with.

He scoffs, “Of course they are, I’m not Taehyung.”

“Good boy. Alright,” Hoseok grabs him by the shoulders and pushes him out of the bathroom and into the hallway. “Bedtime bedtime bedtime for me and Jungkookie,” he sing-songs, planting a kiss on the back of his head that leaves Jungkook with a little glow in his chest and small smile on his face.

“I’ll come in and say goodnight in a minute, tuck you in.” Hoseok says, “Do you want a drink of water?”

“Hyung, I’m twenty-two years old!”

Hoseok raises his eyebrows and stares him down — Jungkook can almost see the glasses at the tip of his nose and he grins, ducks his head.

“Yes please and thank you, hyung.”



Jungkook does try to take care of his hyungs, he thinks. They’re just an awful lot quicker to take care of him. He makes an extra effort with Seokjin though, over the next couple of days. This takes various forms:

There’s making him a cup of tea, which he delivers to Seokjin when he’s half asleep on the couch. This ends in an almost scalded crotch for Seokjin, a glare for Jungkook, and an accusatory Jimin who wants to know who the hell exactly used his last teabag.

There’s also leaving half a candy bar (Jungkook got snacky) under Seokjin’s pillow. This ends in a ruined fitted sheet, pillowcase, and a weird three days when Jungkook wouldn’t admit it was him and interactions around the apartment operated like a real-life game of Cluedo.

Jungkook’s most recent attempt had been the most disastrous. Since Seokjin tended to brush off any real attempt at a compliment, and when Jungkook attempted to give them he just got hassled about it for the rest of his life (he was still living down ‘wow, thighs’) he thought maybe Seokjin might like an anonymous note, from a secret admirer. Typing it up seemed too impersonal, and his handwriting would definitely be recognised, so he decided to chop up bits from Seokjin’s favourite magazines and make an awesome collage out of them.

This ended in increased security and a cancelled fanmeet.

He’s determined to get it right this time, so he does what he does best. He asks Namjoon.

“Hyung, if I want to be, like, supportive, how would I do that?”

Namjoon looks up from his tablet, and tilts his head in thought. He’s sat at the desk in his room, electronics and notebooks surrounding him.

“Huh.” He squints, taking in Jungkook and screwing up his mouth before asking, “Can I get some more specifics, Kook?”

Jungkook pushes himself off from where he was leaning against the doorway and slides onto the desk, nearly knocking over three half empty and possibly mouldy coffee keep-cups in the process.

“I just…” He swings his legs, sucking on his teeth, “you guys are always there for me, I wanna, like, be there for you guys too.”

It’s weird how Namjoon and Hoseok both have the exact same Looking Over Their Imaginary Glasses Look, but Namjoon’s doesn’t strike terror into his heart.

“We’re all there for each other, Kook,” he scolds, gently (always gently). “That’s kind of the point.”

“I know, but,” Jungkook doesn’t know what he wants to say so he just looks at Namjoon, a little pleading.

Namjoon takes pity on him, because he’s a genuine literal angel. A God amongst men. The human form of finding 100,000 won on the sidewalk and then donating it to an animal shelter rather than slamming it down on the counter of the convenience store and demanding as many packets of Banana Kick as it can buy, which isn’t what Jungkook had done when he was thirteen, it’s just a general example, shut up.

“You already do support us, Jungkookie, just by being here. Just by doing what you do, and working hard. It’s like what Yoongi said, it’s a relief there are seven of us, right? We share the good stuff and bad stuff so the bad stuff is lighter and the good stuff is even bigger.”

Namjoon is so genuine sometimes it makes Jungkook lightheaded.

“‘Philosophy, with Kim Namjoon’” Seokjin announces from the doorway, his stance similar to Jungkook’s earlier position and his voice like a needle to a balloon. “What are we getting deep and meaningful about today?”

“Jungkookie here wanted to know how he could better support his hyungs, isn’t that right?” Namjoon asks Jungkook, a soft grin on his face.

“Uh…” Jungkook can feel his face heating up a little, which doesn’t make any fucking sense. He’s being nice, goddamnit, “Sure, whatever,” he says into his hoodie.

“Any advice, hyung?” Namjoon asks Seokjin.

Seokjin looks as though Namjoon just asked him to perform a ritual sacrifice as he starts to walk over, stopping just a few feet from Namjoon’s desk. “Don’t ask me, I make a point of never supporting anyone. You’re all on your own; these shoulders are purely decorative.”

Namjoon laughs, and Jungkook does too after a second. Seokjin looks at him funny, and Jungkook starts fiddling with the drawstring on his hoodie.

“Did anything in particular bring this on?” Namjoon asks, bring a hand up to rest on Jungkook’s knee. It’s grounding, and Jungkook focuses on it for a second.

“Nah,” he shrugs, mouth still masked a little by fabric. He gives the drawstring a tug and clears his throat. “Was just… fuck!” He’d tugged too hard, the other end of the cord getting lost in the fabric.

“Is that the third hoodie you’ve done that to this month?” Seokjin asks, after a moment of silence. There’s a dry tone to his voice that feels undeserved, Jungkook thinks, but since he’s being nice he decides not to comment on it.

“Yeah, stupid fuckin’—”

“Hobi’ll fix it.” Namjoon states, thumb tapping on Jungkook’s kneecap. “You really all good?”

“He’s fine, our considerate gentleman Jungkookie,” Seokjin coos, throwing an arm around him and making a mess of his hair. Jungkook attempts to retaliate through intense wiggling but just shoves himself further into Seokjin’s space, letting out a muffled whine into his broad chest.

“There, there,” Seokjin comforts, dragging his hand over Jungkook’s head so firmly Jungkook can feel the grease in his unwashed hair plastering it to his scalp. Wriggling free, he attempts to revolumise it but Seokjin grabs his hands and wrestles him to a standstill, a stern expression on his face.

“Don’t mess with my work, you ingrate.” Grabbing Jungkook’s face in both hands, he widens his eyes and insists “it’s the best you’ve ever looked. It’s avant-garde. It’s fresh, it’s fun, it’s- it’s—”

He snaps his fingers, and Namjoon interjects, “Jackson Wang.”

“Yes! You look like Jackson Wang, circa… 2014.”

“Girls Girls Girls era.” Namjoons lip twitches.

“Nooooooooooo!” Jungkook moans, “that’s the worst one!”

Namjoons mouth drops open, “Excuse me, Jackson is gre-”

“A lot,” interjects Seokjin, taking a step back from the desk, and when faced with Namjoon and Jungkook’s judgemental eyebrows he simply raises his own in return.

“That’s not what I meant,” Jungkook claims, “and anyway, even if that was what I meant, we all know the worst one is-“

Namjoon plasters his hands over his ears, singing loudly out of key to mask Jungkook’s voice. Seokjin rolls his eyes, fondness lurking in his dimples.

“You’re right and you should say it,” he says to Jungkook, voice low and laughing, and Jungkook’s grin is helpless in response.

“Namjoon!” Seokjin says, eyes still on Jungkook. He blinks, transfers his gaze, and repeats “Namjoon!”

“What?” Namjoon asks, too loud and hands still covering his ears until Seokjin wrenches them downwards.

“I actually came in here for a reason - it’s our turn to pick dinner.”

They do this every fortnight - or try to. When they’re on the road the majority of their meals are sorted for them or they’re ordering from room service, too tired to even search a menu online. Too many arguments over where to order from (and the general consensus to ignore Hoseok’s suggestion of just ordering individually because it went against the spirit of the thing) meant that a roster was drawn up, and it was strictly adhered to - unlike literally every other roster they’d ever created.

Namjoon’s eyes light up, and he leaps to his feet, nearly strangling himself with his headphones in the process. “Fuck yes! Curry! Wait - we don’t have a photoshoot tomorrow, right?” His brow wrinkles, and he pauses. Jungkook and Seokjin remain silent, neither of them having a clue.

“No, we don’t.” Namjoon decides, “Curry! Do you want curry? We’re having curry. God I’m so fucking excited.”

“Do I get a say in this?” Seokjin asks.

“You owe me.” Namjoon replies.

Seokjin’s jaw drops, as he leans into astonishment, “And you’re using it up on curry?! An IOU from me, the Nation’s Son-in-Law Kim Seokjin?! Do you know how rare these are?!”

Namjoon’s already picked up his phone to bring up the menu, and is halfway to the door by the time Seokjin finishes.

“Yes,” he answers, and continues out the door.

Seokjin closes his jaw with a click.

“Well,” he says to no one in particular, “I guess we’re getting curry. I can’t believe I got off that-”

“Sorry, Jungkook-” Namjoon interrupts, poking his head back around the corner, “You’re all good, right?”

Jungkook squints, trying to remember what Namjoon is talking about, “Oh, yeah, all good hyung.”

Namjoon shoots him a Look and Jungkook pulls a face, a grin too big to be real but makes Namjoon laugh nonetheless, tagging a genuine smile on the end.



The double thumbs up Jungkook gives him seems to do the trick, and Namjoon nods, turning around to head into the lounge, yelling out “We’re getting curry!” to whoever’s listening on his way.

Jungkook and Seokjin both keep on looking at the doorway, Jungkook still perched on the edge of the desk and swinging his legs. One of them connects with Seokjin’s shin, reminding Jungkook of their proximity and making Seokjin yell “Fuck!” and start hopping around the room, shaking out his leg. The shock makes Jungkook start giggling, and the sight of Seokjin’s flailing limbs makes it hard to stop.

“Don’t fucking laugh, you little asshole!” Seokjin shrieks, and Jungkook feels bad, almost, but then Seokjin’s squawking, hopping over to whack him across the thigh, karate chop his upper arm, throw an arm around his neck and wrestle him off the table and suddenly he’s laughing so hard it’s difficult to breathe, and he can’t bring himself to feel bad about anything, at all.



(When Jungkook first arrived in Seoul, he was very small. He knows this, from being told he was, old photographic evidence, and also from being a resident in his own body.

His hyungs, on the other hand, they were big. They’d always been big, even Yoongi and Jimin, just by sheer virtue of being his hyungs.

When he thinks back, he remembers his own fears in an abstract way. But they were all small fears, for a small boy. So when his hyungs reminisce, get a little (or a lot) drunk on soju or beer or whatever’s in the cupboard, hearing these stories feels a bit like discovering he was colourblind. Segments of his childhood readjusting, being filled in with a reality that’s not his, but existed nonetheless.

It’s a process, looking back and learning that his hyungs were small too, that none of them really knew what was going to happen. It makes the fact that he believed in them unerringly, with everything he had, feel a little embarrassing, a little stupid. But he looks around them, and thinks he’s glad he did.)



They’re busy. Possibly busier than ever, but Jungkook doesn’t have the energy for comparisons. He barely has the energy to eat. Project Being Supportive (name to be improved when he has the time) has taken a back seat to Project Stay the Fuck Upright For the Next Thirty Minutes, and the Thirty After That, etc. So if he mistakes getting sick for general exhaustion, he doesn’t think he’s precisely to blame. Maybe 30% is his fault. It’s not a bad cold, anyway - nothing that should stop him from coming to practice. In fact, that might be the stupidest fuckin’ thing Hoseok’s ever said, so Jungkook tells him.

Or at least he tries to. It starts off as a whine, and ends in a phlegm-filled mouth, and a disgusted Hoseok calling a car to come pick him up from the studio. Taehyung and Yoongi are a sensible few metres away from him, and Jimin eyes him cautiously as he edges closer, a mask in his outstretched hand. Even Namjoon, who’d normally forget about germs and contagion in his constant need to check in on everyone, stays well away. Hoseok ends the call with as much flair as possible since the demise of flip phones and pulls his t-shirt over his face, before handing Jungkook his backpack and prodding him between his shoulder blades to usher him out the door.

“Out! Go! The car’ll be here by the time you’re downstairs and it’s taking you straight home, and the doctor’s coming round to check you out in an hour. Here,” he shoves a full water bottle at Jungkook’s chest, and a couple painkillers, “keep your fluids up and no, I don’t want that bottle back.” His tone softens, and he ruffles Jungkook’s sweaty hair with a grimace as Jungkook downs the painkillers and puts the water bottle in his backpack, slinging it over his shoulders.

“We’ll see you tonight. And don’t worry about the choreo, you’ve got it nailed,” Hoseok comforts, “It’s these guys I’m worried about.”

“Hey!” an outraged Yoongi exclaims.

Hoseok whirls around, finger outstretched, “You know you’re still not nailing the second chorus, it’s bah-bah-bah-”

The noise dies as the door closes behind Jungkook, and he makes his way down the corridor to the elevator. Maybe Hobi was right, his throat was sore and his head was pounding and God, could they turn down the lights in here?

He’s just about to press the button when he’s surprised by its ding. Stepping back from the doors, they open, and it’s Seokjin. Jungkook frowns, confused, looks back to the practice room and then again at Seokjin. Seokjin doesn’t say anything, eyes glued to his phone as he taps something out, then deletes it, then taps again.

“Where have you been?” Jungkook demands, phlegm be damned.

Seokjin jumps, throwing his phone in the air and scrambling to catch it.


Jungkook’s phlegm takes its revenge, and he splutters.

Seokjin cringes, “Ew, JK, gross.”

The splutter turns into a cough, and Seokjin’s disgust turns into alarm as he steps forward and reaches a hand out to rest on Jungkook’s forehead.

“Shit, you’re burning up.”

Jungkook would open his mouth to make a stupid joke but he’s too scared of what will fall out, so he just grunts and hopes it gets the point across.

“Shut up,” says Seokjin, and Jungkook mentally high-fives himself.

“You’re going home, right?”

Jungkook nods, tilts his head and tries to communicate “Where have you been?” with his body, like a game they used to play in their hotel rooms.

Seokjin’s lips tighten, and he shakes his head like the question is a fly buzzing around him, glances at his phone.

“Just running late. I can’t be perfect all the time.”

It’s weak. He’s asking for Jungkook to laugh, to make a crack about how he’s never perfect, and normally he would. But normally Seokjin puts some energy into his jokes, and normally his eyes aren’t, now that Jungkook actually looks at him, rimmed with a soft red.

Jungkook can count on one hand the amount of times he’s seen Seokjin cry, and they’ve never been alone when it’s happened.

Jungkook tells himself that the dull panic that fills him is undeserved - Seokjin isn’t crying, he just looks like he was crying, or maybe he’s about to, or maybe he’s just sick or he’s got pink eye, in both eyes, that would make Jungkook a bit sad if it happened to him so the wobble in Seokjin’s chin makes sense, he thinks. In fact, Jungkook almost wants to start laughing, whack him on the shoulder just so Seokjin whacks him back, that he can deal with.

But that’s not right - that’s not fair. Seokjin, all of them, they’ve all been there for him, and Seokjin needs - maybe not him but someone, something. Maybe a hug? Hoseok had ordered quarantine but this seems like a worthy exception, and Seokjin is within a metre of him so chances are he’s already infected. A hug. A hug is good.

Jungkook reaches out to Seokjin, rests his hand on his upper arm. Seokjin looks at it like it’s disembodied, and his chin wobbles again, more, before he shrugs it off quickly.

“Don’t - I’m fine,” he says, voice suddenly thick. He clears his throat. “You’ll get me sick,” he accuses, and sniffs. “See?!”

Jungkook nods, and puts his hands in his pockets.

“Go home,” Seokjin orders, “get into bed, and I’ll bring you some samgyetang when practice is over.”

Jungkook nods again, and steps to press the elevator door button to open them again. Seokjin reaches over to prod his cheek firmly, and Jungkook bats him away, grabbing his hand for a second and squeezing it. Seokjin looks down at where they’re joined, squeezes back and then yanks his hand back with a too-bright grin. “Think you can infect me that easy? Think I’m some kind of sucker, JK?!”

Jungkook steps into the elevator, turning around to face Seokjin as he backs down the hallway, shaking his fist in the air and calling out, “You won’t get me this time, you scamp! You rascal! You will respect me!”

The doors close, and Jungkook heaves a sigh of relief (and then hacks up a lung).



Home is good, and bed is better. Jungkook’s room is dark, the window cracked open behind the curtain to let in a little fresh air and the sounds of traffic tens of storeys below. The doctor had been and gone - it’s just a chest cold, nothing a round of antibiotics and plenty of rest and fluids won’t fix, but it feels ever so slightly like he’s dying. Tucked up to his nose, buried in sheets a couple of days old but still fresh enough to sniff, the pounding in his head is receding and Jungkook can almost appreciate the comfort before whatever is going on in his sinuses decides to start leaking out his nose. It’s like water, and it’s coming fast. He rolls onto his back to stop the flow, but then it’s just going backwards, down his throat, and it’s gross. Swallowing, coughing, almost choking, Jungkook lets out a strangled, frustrated yell at the ceiling that ends in a whimper because fuck, his throat hurts.


There’s a knock at his door, and Jimin peeks his head round the door.

“You all good?” he asks.

Jungkook lets out another, weaker, yell.

“Oh dear,” Jimin drums his fingers against the doorframe, “do you… want some painkillers? Water? Seokjin just said to check on you - practice went well, he did the funniest-”

Jungkook interrupts him with a cough, that turns into a bigger cough, that turns into Jungkook hunched over, thinking he might puke from coughing but unsure if that’s even a thing.

Jimin’s eyes widen in alarm, “Shit! OK, uh - tissue… tissue tissue tissue -”

“Drawer.” Jungkook indicates between coughs.

Jimin opens the draw, spots the tissues beside a pump bottle of body lotion, and grimaces. “Not even actual lube, Kook?”

Jungkook glares, hands outstretched for the tissues.

“Fine!” Jimin passes them over, and Jungkook expels whatever was in his mouth into them and ignores every instinct in him to check what it was. He doesn’t need to know. Throwing it into the plastic bag lined flip-top bin next to his bed, he lowers himself gingerly into his pillows.

“Thank you, Jimin!” Jimin says, starting to pull the blankets up around Jungkook, who finds it in himself to parrot it back to him with a grimace.

“You’re so welcome! Painkillers and water?” Jimin asks, “Baesuk? Seokjin’s making some samgyetang, he’ll bring that in soon.”

Pressing a hand to Jungkook’s forehead, Jimin grimaces. “Sweaty,” he observes. “Do you have a fever? How hot are foreheads normally? What did the doctor say?”

“He said I’m fine,” Jungkook croaks, “Just a chest cold.”

“Oh my poor Jungkookie.” Jimin sing-songs, “My poor, poor Jungkookie! I’ll go get your tea-”




Jungkook pauses, unsure whether or not to say anything. He hasn’t been able to get the image of Seokjin’s red-rimmed eyes out of his head all afternoon though, or the feeling of his hand in his own, so he plunges in.

“Is Seokjin okay?”

Jimin’s brow creases, instantly concerned, and Jungkook regrets his question immediately. Out of all of them, Jimin might have taken it the hardest, back when they were having raw conversations about their future, about where they want to go and if they want to go together. It had left them stronger in some ways, Jungkook knows this and holds the thought tight to his chest when he has moments of doubt. But he also knows that it’s left Jimin with the tendency to panic at the slightest hint of unhappiness.

“Yes?” Jimin replies, “Should he not be? Why are you asking? Has he said something? I thought - shit. Shit.”

“No, hyung,” Jungkook grabs onto his arm, “I don’t - not like that. He hasn’t said anything, I’m sure he’s fine! He’s fine! It’s not like last time, I don’t think. I mean, I don’t know, but- he just seemed off today, is all. It’s probably nothing.”

The creases gathering on Jimin’s forehead fall away as he starts to pick at a fingernail. “He seemed fine at practice…did you ask him about it?”



“He said he was fine,” Jungkook admits, “but he was texting and- I don’t know. I’m reading too much into it. Don’t worry.”

Jimin huffs a little through his nose, “Don’t tell me not to worry,” he mutters, continuing in a louder voice like he’s reminding himself and not just Jungkook, “I’m sure he’s fine - you know we promised to tell each other if there was something seriously wrong, maybe he’s just… having an off day. He hasn’t been able to see Byung-wook in ages, either.”  

“True. Or maybe he’s just got pink eye.” Jungkook rationalises.

Jimin mimes puking in his mouth, forcing a hacking laugh out of Jungkook just as Seokjin steps into the doorway holding a tray of steaming samgyetang.

“Dinner.... is served,” he announces with as much of a flourish as he can manage with his arms full. “Jimin,” he jerks his head, an order to stand so he can put the tray on Jungkook’s lap.

Jimin hops up, and heads to the doorway, stopping to watch Seokjin as he fusses with the tray and tucks a tea-towel into Jungkook’s t-shirt like a bib. It devolves into Seokjin attempting to aeroplane a spoonful into a once protesting and now resigned Jungkook’s mouth, which Jimin interrupts with a clear and quiet “Jin.”

Seokjin turns, spoon halted a few inches from Jungkook’s waiting mouth.

“You know you can… talk to us, right? Like we promised?” Jimin asks.

Seokjin frowns, “Yeah…” he says slowly, like it’s obvious, “of course. Like we promised.”

Jimin prods further, “And you would, right, if - if there was anything to talk about? If you were-”

Seokjin’s frown clears, and he places the still-full spoonful back into the bowl, to Jungkook’s disappointment.

“Jimin, stop. I’m fine, I promise. Jungkook said something, I’m assuming?” He turns a pointed gaze to Jungkook, who shrinks against his pillows.

“I just thought you just had pink-eye, I swear!”

“Ew, JK! I don’t have fucking pink-eye! Why would I have pink-eye?!”

“Your eyes were red!”

“I’d been crying, you dickhead!”

“I knew it!” Jungkook shouts, triumphant, then regrets it instantly as he starts to cough.

Seokjin lifts up the bowl in panic, “Don’t spill your fucking dinner! I spent at least forty minutes on this!” at the same time as Jimin shouts back at Jungkook, “No you didn’t! You told me everything was fine!”

“You told me everything was fine!” Jungkook argues back, ignoring Seokjin in favour of a sputtering Jimin.

“How the hell would I know?! I was lying, like a good hyung!”

“Shut up, both of you!” Seokjin orders. They don’t. Instead, Jungkook gasps, “you lied to me?”

Jimin rolls his eyes, “I’ve been lying to you to make you feel better since you were fourteen.”

Jungkook stops, thinks, agrees. “Point taken.”

“I’m fine, by the way!” Seokjin interrupts, “If anyone cares!”

“We don’t believe you.” Jimin and Jungkook snap at him.

It’s Seokjin’s turn to gasp, “Me?!”

Jimn crosses his arms, leans against the doorway in response. Jungkook steals the spoon and starts eating, spills a little on his bib. “Fuck,” he whispers, looking down at the dribble.

“Well, I am.” Seokjin states. “If you must know, Byung-wook and I… have broken up.”

“Hyung!” Jimin exclaims, worry launching him upright.

Jungkook starts coughing around his mouthful.

Seokjin turns to him, raising his eyebrows, “You can’t let me have one moment, can you.”

Jungkook coughs once more in response, wiping a little soup from the corner of his mouth.

“I’m sorry, hyung,” he says, mouth twisting in sympathy.

Seokjin looks a little lost for a second, before he sits up straight and throws his nose in the air, “Well, I’m not! Good riddance! Imagine, not wanting to date this!”

“Hyung…” Jimin says, mouth soft around the word.

Seokjin sighs, irritation colouring his voice, “Jimin, I’m fine. I’m fine. It was never going to last, and it’s better that we ended it now rather than dragged it out - we’re going on tour soon and… the group needs to be my focus. It’s fine.”

He rubs his hands up and down his thighs, and for a moment the sound of palms against denim and the faint honking of car horns is the only noise to focus on, until Jungkook clanks his spoon against the side of the bowl as he draws up a mouthful and offers it to Seokjin.

“Want some?” he asks, “It’s really good.”

Seokjin opens his mouth obediently, and Jungkook pops the spoon in.

Jimin wrinkles his nose, “You’re absolutely getting sick now, you know that, right?”

Seokjin swallows and licks his lips. “Worth it,” he says, “I’m a genius. That’s delicious. Thank you, JK, and more importantly, thank me.”

Jimin flatly refuses to read the goddamn room, “I’m sorry about you and Byung-wook,” he says, like an idiot who’s determined to engage in open and honest conversation. Jungkook tries to transmit ‘shut up’ vibes through sheer willpower and latent mutant abilities that he’s still waiting on, but it doesn’t work.

“I just want you to know that we can talk about this stuff, so it doesn’t build up, like-”

“I know, Jiminie.” Seokjin says, quiet and firm and grateful. “Thank you.”

Jimin pauses, takes a deep breath and smiles. “Okay! Right, well. I love you and I’m going to have dinner. I’ll leave you to your plague-carrying soup!” and he turns on his heel and heads down the hall.

Seokjin sags, shoulders slumped. Bringing his hands up to rub his eyes, he sighs and starts, “Jungkook,”

And stops.


“Thank you… for caring. But next time - not that there’ll be a next time, but. Next time, just come to me. I’ve already had Hoseok on my case for worrying you and now Jimin, and-”

“That’s not fair.” Jungkook isn’t really aware of the thought until he says it.

Seokjin turns to him, affronted. “What’s not fair is being ambushed by people who act like they’re owed information about my life!”

His voice barely changed in volume, but Jungkook feels like he’s been slapped.  

Seokjin rolls his lips between his teeth. “Sorry,” he says, flat and tuneless.

Jungkook puts his spoon down, and slowly reaches out his hand to rest on Seokjin’s upper back, starts running it up and down. It feels clumsy, and Seokjin must think the same, because a smile cracks onto his face and he asks Jungkook, “is this you being comforting?”

Jungkook nods, relief mixing with bravado. “Good, right? Golden maknae strikes again… what can’t I do?”

“That’s the question.” Seokjin exhales, scrubbing his face. “Find me a boyfriend who thinks I’m worth the hassle of dating?” He winces. “Sorry - sorry. I’m fine, I promise. Just…”

“It’s okay, hyung. I always thought he was a dick, anyway.”

At that, Seokjin lets out the first real laugh Jungkook’s heard from him today. “That’s absolutely not true, you fucking loved him!”

“I did not!” Jungkook protests, “I knew he was a… a….”

“See, you can’t even come up with an insult!”

“Douchebag! There, see!”


Jungkook hmphs.

“It’s fine,” Seokjin offers. “He really wasn’t a bad guy. Why am I talking like he’s dead?”

“Because he’s dead to me, hyung!” Jungkook offers loyally.

“He isn’t a bad guy. It just… didn’t work out. And that’s okay.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.” Seokjin says, firmly. “It is. Now eat your soup, before I do.”

Jungkook holds out the spoon, and Seokjin quirks the corner of his mouth, shakes his head.

Jungkook has a mouthful, and Seokjin stands. As he walks to the door, Jungkook swallows, calls out quietly, “Hyung?”

Seokjin turns, hands on hips and an exaggeratedly put-upon look on his face, “Yes, JK?”

“It wouldn’t be that hard.”

Seokjin blinks, “What wouldn’t be?”

Jungkook clears his throat. “Finding you a boyfriend. One who thinks you’re worth the hassle of… all this.”

If Jungkook wasn’t paying attention, he’d miss how Seokjin’s face drops ever so slightly before he plasters on a grin, strikes a pose and says “Obviously, you foolish, sickly meatball. They’d be lucky to have me!”


But he is, so he doesn’t.



Jimin tells everyone, because he’s Jimin and that’s what he does - not that he’s a gossip, although he kind of is, but more that he thinks they all need to know to avoid any awkwardness. It doesn’t quite work, and there’s a moment of tension in the lounge as they settle in to watch a movie the next evening when Taehyung gives Seokjin an extra long hug and it’s five sets of eyes staring at Taehyung’s back and Seokjin’s beleaguered expression over his shoulder, before Jungkook starts to cough (again) and it dissipates.

The movie’s interesting, Jungkook knows this on an intellectual level, because Namjoon and Yoongi and Taehyung requested it, and they like interesting things. The thing is that it’s actually boring as hell, and Jungkook’s been so focused on not coughing for the past fifteen minutes that he’d missed even the not boring parts. He’d begged and pleaded his way out of his sickbed, much to Hoseok’s disgruntlement, and now he had to watch the whole goddamn thing just to prove a point.  

Sliding down on the couch, he leans a little further into Seokjin’s side. He’s the only one of them within three feet of Jungkook. Seokjin had announced that he was already doomed due to his generous nature, so what did it matter. Plopping next to Jungkook and stretching out, he’d then started gloating over how much couch space they got since there was only the two of them, but Jungkook hadn’t let that stop him shuffling closer into him almost immediately. Another thing Jungkook knows intellectually is that it’s warm in the lounge, but it doesn’t feel it. It feels like he’s cold, right to his bones, and he’s tired, and Seokjin is warm, so he turns his nose into Seokjin’s arm. Rubbing it a little into the soft cotton helps, so he does that a couple of times, bringing his legs up off the floor to curl into himself and dragging the blanket up and tucking it under his butt and over his ears. It means he can’t hear the movie that well, but that seems like a lost cause.

He doesn’t realise how much he’s wiggling until he feels, rather than hears, Seokjin’s laughter. Looking up, just his eyes and the top of his head uncovered, he meets Seokjin’s amused gaze.

“You alright there?” Seokjin whispers.

“Cold.” Jungkook replies, refusing to uncover his mouth and trusting context to clue Seokjin in.

“Cold?” Seokjin asks, and Jungkook nods.

Seokjin looks around him, lifts the blanket on his own lap to throw over Jungkook as well. It’s good, but not enough as Jungkook feels another shiver make it’s way down his spine. Seokjin notices it, and frowns.

“D’ya want some more tea?” he murmurs.

“Shh!” Jimin hisses from across the room.

“You shush!” Seokjin yelps, indignant.

“Stop it.” Yoongi orders flatly.

Seokjin sniffs, lifts up the arm that Jungkook had just been rubbing his nose on, and imperiously jerks his head. Jungkook blinks at him owlishly.

“Get in here,” he whispers.

Jungkook’s mouth forms an ‘O’ of understanding, and he turns and shuffles until his back is pressed up against Seokjin’s side, and an arm settles around his chest. Seokjin presses the palm of his hand to Jungkook’s forehead, and tucks him in more firmly. With a soft sigh, Jungkook relaxes backwards, and closes his eyes.

 He doesn’t know when he falls asleep, but he’s woken up by the sound of smashing glass, a chorus of jeers and the light switch being turned on. There’s a confusingly warm weight on his head, until he realises it’s Seokjin’s head and it’s lifted slowly.

“Ow,” Seokjin complains, soft and slow. “I really shouldn’t have fallen asleep like that.”

Still half-asleep, Jungkook apologises, making Seokjin huff out a small laugh as he cracks his neck. “Not your fault that movie was boring,” he says under his breath.

A thrill of vindication shoots through Jungkook, but he forgets it the next second when he remembers the noise that’d woken him.

“What happened?”


“The noise, what happened?”

“Oh, I think Hobi dropped a wine glass.”

“Nice one.” Jungkook yawns and stretches, slumping further into Seokjin’s space and tempted to fall back asleep.

“Don’t even think about it.” Seokjin orders.

“Think about what?” Jungkook murmurs, eyes drifting closed. Seokjin’s hand has found its way into his hair and it’s blissful.

“Going back to sleep,” he says, warm and warning.

Jungkook grins, half hidden in Seokjin’s lap, lets out a giggle.

Seokjin’s hand runs around his ear, and Jungkook sighs. It’s a good kind of ticklish, the kind you want to press into.

“Get up,” Seokjin says, fingers at the nape of Jungkook’s neck.

“Uh huh,” Jungkook agrees.

“I mean it.” Seokjin’s hand travels to Jungkook’s shoulder, and Jungkook whines in protest, opening his eyes and rolling over to meet Seokjin’s. He feels flushed, almost feverish, and blinks to adjust his eyes to the bright light.

“You OK?” Seokjin asks.

Jungkook murmurs in the affirmative.

“Let’s get you to bed.”



It doesn’t take too long to get better - their company doesn’t fuck around when it comes to sickness, so he’s on an array of pills and liquids and injections he doesn’t understand but all seem to fix him in a couple of days so it’s whatever. Good, probably.

It helps that Seokjin must be trying to stay busy, dropping by to check on him under the pretense of showing off a new song he learned on his guitar, sending him videos that are either actually funny or Jungkook finds himself laughing at just because he can imagine Seokjin laughing at them. He brings him more soup, cooks him juk, keeps his tea topped up because no matter how rich they are there’s no reason to waste perfectly good teabags. He even forces him to shower, practically carries a protesting and still a little lightheaded Jungkook to the bathroom door and shoves him inside, yelling “You’re not sick enough to smell this bad! Come out when l’eau de dick-sweat doesn’t permeate every pore of your body, thanks!”

It’s nice, and Jungkook has to tell himself not to get used to it, being doted on, as if he isn’t constantly doted on by all six of his hyungs anyway.

In turn, he keeps an eye on Seokjin, they all do. Byung-wook and Seokjin had been together… Jungkook racked his brains. Six months? A year? Honestly he wasn’t sure. Probably because Byung-wook wasn’t often there. Not really through any fault of his own, Jungkook wasn’t enough of a dick to say that - they were barely anywhere for long. Dating was difficult regardless, two guys dating even more so, and with one of them being, well, normal… it was practically impossible. Seokjin had been right, when he said that it was never going to last, but Jungkook knows that sometimes being right doesn’t make it hurt any less.

So he orbits Seokjin a little more than normal. Surreptitiously checking in more often as he feels better, ducking his head in Seokjin’s bedroom door and asking if he needs any laundry done even though doing someone else’s laundry makes Jungkook lowkey want to puke in his mouth a little, making a point of saying goodnight and good morning, whether it’s via text or passing him in the hallway. Finding ways to say, “I’m here” without actually, y’know. Saying it.

That would be a bit much. That’s Namjoon’s territory.

He can’t tell if Seokjin notices, but that’s probably a good thing. Seokjin probably wouldn’t tell him if he liked it, but he knows he’d tell him to fuck off if he didn’t.

So he keeps on doing it. It becomes something of a habit, thinking about Seokjin. It doesn’t take much - turns out Jungkook thinks about his hyungs a bit anyway, so this is just more of a level up. He stays close, until it feels as routine as his morning poop. Part of it happens during his morning poop, actually - there’s never a better time to scroll, send a good morning meme or twelve.

Matter of fact, he’s scrolling right now. It’s three am on a Saturday night, he’s sprawled out on the couch in the lounge and he’s had a fair amount to drink. Possibly too much, but that’s a Future Jungkook problem, and right now Jungkook is focused on Right Now Jungkook’s problems. Namely how to get some of the chicken Yoongi’s gotten out of the fridge. Seokjin was around here somewhere, but from the way Yoongi is hunched over the cardboard tub and sucking on the bones, he’s probably accepted that the chicken was a lost cause, like a coward. Jungkook isn’t so easy to dissuade.

“Hyung.” Jungkook says. There’s no response, just more sucking, loud enough to be heard over the music Taehyung and Jimin are listening to on the other side of the room, lying on either side of a bluetooth speaker, hands clasped together. It’s gross, both the hand-holding and the chicken bone sucking, but judgement has no place here.


“Wha-” Yoongi raises his head, three chicken bones sticking out of his mouth and eyes half-closed.

Jungkook stretches out his arms, does grabby hands, “Chicken me.”  

Pulling one chicken bone out his mouth so he can talk, Yoongi replies “Chicken yourself, punk.”

Jungkook doesn’t reply, just maintains steady eye contact until Yoongi caves, sighs and walks over, chicken in hand. It takes approximately ten seconds.

Yoongi plops down on Jungkook’s legs, thrusting the chicken in front of his face.

“Chicken,” he says, simply.

Jungkook grins sloppily, shoves a piece in his mouth and mumbles something close to “Thank you.”

Yoongi nods in response, then keeps on nodding to a beat in his head. Jungkook taps the now de-meated bone on the side of the box on the offbeat, to switch it up a little. Keep it fresh. He layers in some beatboxing before realising he’s got a mouthful of chicken, ends up spraying bits all over his chest and a little on Yoongi, who scrunches up his nose in disgust and makes no effort to clean himself up.

He swallows, pats Yoongi’s arm in apology. He wonders where Seokjin is, if he got any chicken of his own.

“Did you give-” he hiccups, “Did you give Jin chicken?”

Yoongi frowns, “Why would I give Jin chicken?”

“Because,” Jungkook gestures to the room at large, “he’s sad.”

“Sad?!” Yoongi screeches, “For what?!”

“Hyung, calm down,” Jungkook shushes Yoongi, patting his face. “He’s just a little sad, just a little bit. Not a big sad or anything. I think it’s just because of his boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Yoongi sneers, “Byung-wook. That asshole. Never liked him!”

“That’s what I said!”

Yoongi pauses, considering. “I mean, he wasn’t that bad.”

“He was kind of nice, actually.” Jungkook admits.

“Remember that time he brought dinner round for Jin but then he’d actually brought round enough for all of us?”

“Yes! And he remembered my birthday.”

“What a guy. I miss him.”

“Me too, hyung. Me too.”

Dropping the nearly empty chicken box on the floor and picking the remaining chicken bits off his sweatshirt, Jungkook pulls Yoongi down easily to flop on his chest, a makeshift blanket. Yoongi wriggles around a little, snuffles as he gets comfy.

“You’re taking good care of him, Jungkookie,” he comments.


“Jin. You’re taking good care of him. We all notice.”

Jungkook feels a little warm in his chest and cheeks.

“Jus’ wan’ you to know that-” Yoongi yawns, “It’s good. You’re good. Keep it up.” He reaches a hand up to pat Jungkook on the face, returning the favour. “Good kid. Raised you right.”

“Thanks, hyung.”

Yoongi’s breathing evens out, and Jungkook thinks he might have fallen asleep. It’s warm, and he’s drunk and full of chicken, so it doesn’t take long to join him.



When he wakes up a few hours later, it’s not Yoongi covering him, but a blanket. The lounge is dark, the only light from the open fridge, beeping softly. Jungkook stares at it for half a minute, counting the seconds between beeps, before he staggers upright and shuffles over to close it and then open it again when he realises just how thirsty he is. He grabs a bottle of water, downs it, spills some down his front and ignores it. He’s still drunk, he thinks, but not very. Not enough to go back to sleep on the couch. 

Wandering down the hallway, every door is closed except one. It’s cracked open, a sliver of light visible, and more importantly it’s Seokjin’s. Jungkook thinks back to how he was there one minute last night and then not. It’s only sensible to push it open some more, poke his head round the door and whisper “Jin?” and not in any way influenced by vague inebriation and it being six in the morning and also the fact that fuck it, so what if he wants to see Seokjin.

Seokjin’s still awake, sitting up in bed with his side-table lamp casting warm light across his bare chest, phone in hand. The blankets are curling around him, and without being asked Jungkook pushes the door closed and makes his way to perch on the edge of Seokjin’s bed, next to him.

“Hey, hyung,” he says, quiet in the yellow glow.

Seokjin smiles with half of his mouth, “Hey, JK.”

“Why’re you still up?”

Seokjin shrugs, glances at his phone, “You?”

Jungkook shrugs back. “You disappeared earlier.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Yes you did. You were there and then you weren’t,” Jungkook frowns, “You disappeared. Why’d you disappear, hyung?”

“I went to bed, Kook, there’s a difference.” Seokjin replies, dryly.

Jungkook fixes him with a look. Seokjin sighs, looks down at his phone one more time before he turns off the screen and puts it down on his side table.

“Byung-wook texted. He wanted to talk.”

“Oh.” Something in Jungkook’s chest shifts, he draws a hand up to rub it absently.

“Yeah. So. It’s fine.”

Jungkook looks at Seokjin again, “I don’t think it is.”

Seokjin’s jaw clenches, “It’s not up to you.”

“I know that.” Jungkook says, measured and firm, “I’m not telling you whether it is or not. I’m telling you I’m looking at you and I don’t think it’s fine.”

Seokjin blinks rapidly, lifts his chin up and clears his throat. “You might be right,” he laughs, voice thick, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, hyung.” Jungkook reaches out, rests his hand on Seokjin’s hip and wishes he’d put it on his arm instead, because Seokjin’s hip is all muscle and bone and soft skin.

Seokjin looks down at Jungkook’s hand, and his lips part ever so slightly.

Jungkook draws his hand back, clenches it to stop the buzz. Looking at Seokjin, his brain feels foggy. Maybe it’s the early morning, or the alcohol lingering in his system, or the way the light is casting shadows across Seokjin’s jaw, but Jungkook feels a little like he’s wearing the wrong prescription glasses, like his depth perception is off. All he’s wanted, all he wants is for Seokjin to be happy and he thought they might be there. He thought he’d done what he needed to do, and they were back, back to before Byung-wook.

But they’re not. Seokjin’s not. And Jungkook doesn’t know what to do.

He doesn’t know how to talk, like Namjoon. He doesn’t have the unspoken bond that Seokjin and Yoongi have. He doesn’t know how to comfort, like Hobi, and he’s not thoughtful, like Jimin and he can’t distract like Taehyung.

But when he touched Seokjin, he felt something. Maybe all Seokjin needs is to be touched, maybe that’s what he’s missing. Jungkook knows he needs to be touched, sometimes, feels a little disconnected until someone touches him, hugs him, presses a kiss against him, or maybe even more if they’ve got that kind of relationship or the desperation that renders one unnecessary. It makes sense that Seokjin feels the same, now he doesn’t have someone. Maybe that’s how he can help. Show Seokjin that he doesn’t need Byung-wook to have what he wants, needs. He can have everything, with him.

Jungkook shakes his head, blinks that out of existence. 

He can have this, with him.

So he looks, and he looks, and he looks. And Seokjin must see something, Jungkook thinks, because he leans forward, puts his own hand over Jungkook’s where it’s in time out on the blanket next to him.

Jungkook looks up at him, and it’s like someone’s taken over his brain as he says, simple and too honest, “I just want to help.”

“I know that.”

Jungkook feels reckless, takes a deep breath, “Do you want me to help?”

Seokjin takes a moment before he answers, “What does that mean?”

Jungkook lifts up his hand, places it on Seokjin’s lower stomach, next to his belly button. Seokjin inhales sharply, tummy twitching.

“Jungkook,” he says, split down the middle between sharp and lost, “what does that mean. I need you to say it.”

Jungkook doesn’t know that he can, so he just drags his hand down further by an inch, maybe two. “I want to help out,” he repeats, staring at the scattering of hair leading the way down, “do you want me to help out?”

Seokjin swallows, audibly, “I want-”

From his tone of voice he expected a challenging look in Seokjin’s eyes, but they’re soft, just like his gently parted lips, and the skin on his stomach where Jungkook’s hand waits for an answer.

A moment passes, then he gets it in a small nod and Jungkook feels like he might be having an out of body experience as his hand drifts down, underneath the covers to where Seokjin’s waiting.

“It’s been a while-” Seokjin starts, voice rough and, if Jungkook didn’t know any better, a little embarrassed.

Jungkook giggles, and lifts his hand up to get down Seokjin’s pajama pants.

“I should’ve known you’d be insuff- oh, OK,” he gasps, “not wasting any time then, are we.”

Jungkook wraps his hand around him. He’s warm, thicker than expected - not that Jungkook expected anything. Smooth as well, and still mostly soft, until he starts moving his hand and Seokjin exhales for three, four, five seconds, and he starts to swell in Jungkook’s hand.  

Except for the sound of his measured breaths, Seokjin is nearly silent. He’s not looking at Jungkook, instead focused on where Jungkook’s hand is moving under the covers.

Jungkook wants him to look at him, doesn’t want to ask. Doesn’t want to say anything, just wants to watch the flush creep up Seokjin’s chest, his nipples harden. It’s almost trancelike, they rhythmic pull and push of his hand, and Jungkook loses track of what he’s doing and how long he’s been doing it for until Seokjin lets out a quiet moan, asks, “More?”

Jungkook nods, mouth dry. Tightens his grip, speeds up the pace a little. Seokjin has started moving beneath his hand, just a slow rock upwards.

“That’s-” he starts to speak, swallows, drops his head back to look at the ceiling.

Jungkook doesn’t reply, just speeds up a little more.

Seokjin closes his eyes, his hands clenched in the sheets, pushing them down a little. He pushes up into Jungkook’s hand faster now, a little harder.

The flush in his chest is distracting, the line of his throat is distracting, the way the tension in his arms highlights the cord of his muscles is distracting, and Jungkook’s rhythm falters.

Seokjin lets out a disappointed moan, and Jungkook swallows the spit pooling in his mouth so he can apologise.

“It’s okay!” Seokjin says, voice strained, “it’s still good, I just - I’m not gonna come like this.”

Jungkook feels like - he doesn’t know what he feels like. Like someone just stole his lunch, but his lunch was also a million won and making Seokjin come. He refocuses. He has a job to do.

“What can I do?”

“It’s the angle-”

Jungkook goes to readjust his hand, but Seokjin stops him to say, “I’m close, I just need-”

“What do you need?” Jungkook resumes his original position, starts jerking Seokjin off again, faster.

“I, fuck,” Seokjin thrusts up again, and again, “just keep your hand-” Seokjin shoves his own hand down his pants, gets a grip on the head of his dick, shoving Jungkook’s hand down further, “yeah, okay.”

Jungkook’s heart is racing in his chest, watching Seokjin’s Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he gasps for breath.

“Are you close?” He asks, quiet. Too quiet, as Seokjin’s eyes fly open and he asks, “Wha-”

“Are you close, hyung?” Jungkook asks again, and Seokjin nods, speeds his hand up even more, faster and faster, until he’s fucking up with his hips enough to jostle Jungkook’s hand loose, moaning long and low, and wetness spreads, enough to drip down on to Jungkook’s hand, smear against the sheets as Jungkook brings it into the light and see the sheen of Seokjin’s come against his skin.

He stares at it, kind of wants to put it in his mouth, kind of doesn’t want Seokjin to think he’s a total weirdo. So instead he wipes it on Seokjin’s sheets, goes to pat him on the stomach before he panics and redirects to his head. Seokjin looks up at him, cheeks red and lips bitten, and Jungkook doesn’t say a goddamn word before he turns around and half walks, half jogs to his room, and doesn’t think - does not think - about Seokjin’s orgasm face when he shoves his pants down and grinds helplessly into his mattress, coming all over his fresh new sheets.



It’s been a week. A whole week of time has passed since Jungkook had Jerked Seokjin Off. That’s seven days, Jungkook thinks. Twenty-four hours in each, twenty-four times seven is... a fair amount of hours, and a whole bunch of minutes. And it’s been all of them, all however many of them, since Jeon Jungkook had his hand on the penis of Kim Seokjin and had jerked him the whole way off, (almost unassisted).

Obviously he’s fine with it. He wanted to help, he helped. A helpful handjob. It got Seokjin’s mind off it, for a minute. He set a goal, and he achieved it. Awesome.

So it was no biggie when Seokjin didn’t immediately reply to his ‘good… day’ text the next day, when he finally woke at three in the afternoon. He probably didn’t have his phone on him, or maybe the handjob cheered him up so much that the texts are unnecessary. Jungkook’s good at stuff, it stands to reason that it was a good handjob, even taking into consideration the fact that Seokjin had to (mostly) finish himself off. It’s about the journey, not the destination.

It’s definitely no biggie when Seokjin walks into the kitchen, spots Jungkook in front of the fridge downing a bottle of water, stops in his tracks and then walks out without saying a word. And Jungkook barely notices when he sees Seokjin sitting on the couch smiling at his phone, so he ducks behind the corner and sends Seokjin a meme, hears Seokjin’s phone ding, then a sigh and then doesn’t get a reply until that evening of a single, solitary crying-laughing emoji which is the emoji equivalent of a slap in the goddamn face.

Jungkook is fine, and him and Seokjin are fine, and that’s final.

So when Namjoon corners Jungkook in the hallway outside their studios, drags him into RKive and asks, “What’s up with you and Jin-hyung?” Jungkook has absolutely no idea what to say. What could he possibly say, when nothing is up because everything is fine and nothing is wrong, Namjoon.

So he shrugs, pushes his lips out in a weird grimace in an attempt at distracting Namjoon from whatever he’s on about.

“Jungkook.” Namjoon crosses his arms, like that’s meant to strike the fear of God into him. It does, but Jungkook doesn’t let it show.

“Whaddaya mean, hyung?” Jungkook opens his eyes real wide, blinks a couple of times.

Namjoon sighs, drops his arms to his side and wanders over to his chair. He sits, gestures for Jungkook to do so too. Jungkook is very good at following instructions, so he sits on the couch and stares at Namjoon’s figurines.

“Got some new ones?” He asks, not because he can see any new ones but because of statistical probability.

“Yes, and I love them, but don’t change the subject.”

Jungkook affects confusion and absolutely overdoes it.

Namjoon stares at him, then his face is overtaken by a ginormous yawn. “Sorry, I’m sleepy.”

“S’okay,” Jungkook replies through a yawn of his own.

“Weird how that happens, right?” Namjoon offers, lightly scratching his arm.

“Yeah,” Jungkook agrees, “what?”

“How when we yawn it makes other people yawn.”

“Oh right, yeah. Totally.” That is weird.

“So what’s up with you and Jin?”

Jungkook doesn’t think Namjoon was actually trying to be sneaky and distract him into answering, but it’s embarrassing how much it almost works.

“Uh-” Jungkook blanks, recovers, “nothing.”

Namjoon just looks at Jungkook, that look he gets like he can see your internal organs and he loves each and every one of them individually, but also wishes you’d stop being such a pain in the ass.

“I mean, we’re fine.” Jungkook corrects.

Namjoon sighs, “Are you?”

“Yes.” Jungkook says, firmly, and slapping his hand on his thigh as emphasis.

“Well, can I say that I don’t believe you, and wish you’d be honest with me?”

Jungkook nods, solemnly, “Yes you can.”

“And can I say that I don’t want you two going from attached at the hip to barely acknowledging each other in a single week to be ignored and not dealt with?”

Jungkook’s stomach sinks. He’d hoped no one else had noticed.

Namjoon reads him like a picture book crafted by a three-year old going through a macaroni art phase.

“Of course we noticed,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Oh.” Jungkook replies, meekly. “Sorry, hyung.”

“You don’t need to apologise to me. You don’t need to apologise to anyone. No one thinks you’ve done anything wrong, we just - we don’t know what you’ve done at all. You or Jin. And it’s not necessarily any of our business, except when it affects our… our dynamic, y’know? Which it hasn’t,” Namjoon hastens to add, “but I, we, don’t want it getting to that place. Not after-”

It’s not like they don’t talk about it, about how close they came to calling it quits. The only thing that got them through was talking, and Namjoon and Yoongi had insisted on keeping it going. But it’s still not casual.

“I know, hyung.” Jungkook looks across at him, trying to convey how much he means it, how much he’ll fix it, once he can admit to himself that they might’ve done something a bit stupid, maybe something he wants to do again.

“I know you know.” Namjoon smiles, tired and warm, “And I want you to know that I know that you know. Or something. I’m tired. And I love you.”

“I love you too, hyung.”

“Get outta here. Go to bed.”

“You go to bed.” Jungkook insists, standing up and stretching.

“I’m gonna,” Namjoon says, turning back to his computer screen, “just after I…” and he drifts off, Jungkook forgotten, so he lets himself out, and texts Hoseok.

 Come get Namjoon-hyung, he’s sleepy.


Did he talk to you?



Yup :)

Good. Love you.

Love u 2



“Hey, so, what the fuck?”

Jungkook shakes his head at himself in the mirror. That’s not right. Too aggressive.

“Howdy. You wanna… talk?”


“Hey hyung! About that time I-”

Too eager. He inhales through his nose and out through his mouth, resets his shoulders.

“Hey, Seokjin-“


Jungkook leaps in the air, “What the fuck?!”

He clutches his chest, panting in shock, and turns to see Seokjin, poking his head through Jungkook’s doorway. He looks - well, he looks great, because he’s Seokjin and that’s his whole thing, but he also looks like he’s worried Jungkook has lost the plot.

“I… heard my name?” Seokjin questions.

Jungkook can feel himself just standing there, but can’t do anything.

“Ohhhhhh-kay…” Seokjin draws out, “see ya!”

“No, wait!”

Seokjin stops, pokes his head back in.


“Can we- Namjoon said-”

Seokjin waits.

“Can we talk?”

Somehow they’ve ended up sitting across from each other on the floor. As soon as Seokjin had nodded, walked in and closed the door behind him, Jungkook found himself sinking to the carpet, and he supposed Seokjin followed. He feels sick, like he might puke in his mouth but instead he blurts out, “If I made it weird I’m sorry.”

Seokjin’s head shoots up from where it was studying the carpet, or his feet, or something - Jungkook can’t read his mind which is part of the goddamn problem.


“I made it weird, I know I made it weird, I shouldn’t’ve made it weird.”

“You didn’t!” Seokjin exclaims, then softens. “You didn’t. I promise you didn’t.”

Jungkook looks at him, a little relieved and suddenly a lot annoyed. If he didn’t make it weird, then why the fuck -

“What the fuck, then?”

Seokjin startles.

“Why’ve you been all,” Jungkook gestures to all of him, “... guh.”

Frowning, Seokjin sits up straighter. “‘Guh’?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook replies, mulishly.

“I don’t know what -“

“Don’t act stupid.”

“I’m not!”

“Then answer me!”

Seokjin flaps his mouth open and shut, starts a variety of sentences before finishing on, “You got come in my hair!”


“You got come in my hair, and then you left! What was I supposed to do, throw you a parade?”

Beyond confused, Jungkook asks, “Why would I want a parade? You were meant to answer my texts! Not be a dick! That’s all! Literally just- be normal!”

“Well I’m sorry I can’t be normal straight away, after you barge into my room and offer to jerk me off without so much as a- as a how’s your father!” Seokjin is breathing fast through his nose, mouth tight, and whether it’s the tension and nervousness or the fact that when Seokjin gets mad he either reverts to toddlerhood or ages forty years, Jungkook can’t help but snort out a laugh.

“Don’t fucking laugh!” Seokjin complains, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m sorry, hyung.” Jungkook offers, attempting to look contrite.

“It was weird,” Seokjin mumbles, a little petulant.

“I knew it!” Jungkook exclaims.

Seokjin throws his hands up, “I’m sorry!”




“You are…”

Jungkook stares at him. “What are you trying to make me say?”

“Aren’t you sorry too?”

“Why should I be sorry, I’m the one who jerked you off! As far as I can tell, you owe me.”

Seokjin sputters, “Oh, I see how it is, you don’t jerk off your poor old hyung out of the goodness of your heart, you do it because you want something in return!”

“No!” Jungkook protests, a little offended.

Seokjin folds his arms. “Well then.”

“Well then, what?”

In what seems to be becoming a tradition, Seokjin opens his mouth, closes it, and then settles on staring at Jungkook like he’s accusing him of something.

Jungkook looks back at him blankly.

Seokjin’s mouth twitches, then dissolves into laughter.

Jungkook can’t hold back a whine, “What are you laughing at?”

Seokjin just sits there, face turning redder and tears in his eyes as he hiccups and giggles and Jungkook complains again, “How come when I laugh you get mad but now you’re just sitting there, like a dick.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Seokjin wipes his eyes, lets out another giggle.

“No you’re not!”

“No, I’m not. Mostly. But you’re right, this is a little funny.”

“Oh. Well, yeah. Good.” Jungkook likes being right but he doesn’t like being laughed at. It’s a delicate balance.

Seokjin lets out a sigh, mouth still not quite under control, and he says, “Can’t we just-”

“Sure.” Jungkook agrees, and Seokjin looks at him doubtfully.

“You know I mean ‘move on from this and go back to normal and everything’s fine, I’ve heard you jerk off before so really this is no different’, right?”

“Duh. What did you think I thought you meant?”

Seokjin exhales in a rush, “No idea! Cool. Wanna go eat some food?”

Jungkook nods, pushes himself to standing and holds out a hand that Seokjin doesn’t see as he stands up himself, brushes off his sweatpants and says, “Great. Let’s go.”



It is different, though. Of course it’s different. It’s different because sure, they’ve all heard each other jerk off before, but hearing and doing are two different things. It’s just science.

Or at least it’s different to Jungkook. He’s not sure where Seokjin stands on the matter. He seems fine, maybe like he’s making up for lost time with how much of a dick he’s being (eating the bite Jungkook had been saving for last, throwing his legs over him on the couch and shoving his smelly feet under Jungkook’s nose, ruffling his hair every time Jungkook walks by him) but Jungkook can understand that.

But Jungkook doesn’t react to those things the way he did, or maybe he’s over analyzing. Maybe he is but he doesn’t feel like he is. Maybe it’s all in his head. But his head’s the one that’s processing it when they’re sitting side by side and Seokjin leans across him and brushes against him, smelling all warm and like himself. His head’s what’s processing Seokjin grabbing his wrist to twist it and then not letting go, playing with his fingers. His head’s the thing that’s making his hands grab Seokjin right back, that’s making his knees weak with laughter and neck curve just right onto Seokjin’s shoulder.

It’s all his head’s fault.

So Jungkook blames his head, and tells himself that even after that teeny hiccup where they didn’t really talk for a week, it’s fine, and he doesn’t regret it, both the doing and the knowing that he can’t escape from when he’s lying in bed at night, because Seokjin seems happier, and that’s what matters. 

A handjob is a handjob, and also the perfect solution to a break up. There, Jungkook thinks. Sorted.

(It isn’t.)



Seokjin is still sad. He may not seem it, but he is. Jungkook knows it. It doesn’t matter that Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jimin all disagree with him and think he’s fine and that Jungkook’s imagining things, and that ‘he wasn’t even with Byung-wook that long, it’s been a month, he’s a grown-up’ and all that bullshit, Seokjin is sad. It’s inescapable. And Jungkook has to do something about it. 

So he thinks. He thinks while Seokjin fake-laughs with Yoongi, barely masking the deep, existential pain that clearly racks his soul. He thinks while Seokjin slurps up bowl after bowl of ramen, not a care in the world for how puffy they’ll make his face in the morning - he’s trying to comfort himself, fill the void that Byung-wook oh-so-cruelly left. He thinks while he watches Seokjin napping on the couch, unable to stay awake in the real world, sleeping to catch a glimpse of Byung-wook in his tortured dreams.

He has a few options. He could make him dinner, maybe hire out the arcade he’s been wanting to go to - or maybe he could buy him a present, or make him a card that tells him how much better than Byung-wook he deserves, but they all feel a little lacklustre. A little uninspired.

Until it hits him, crystal clear and like a key turning in a lock. 

He’ll jerk him off again, but better this time, so he doesn’t have to finish himself off, and it’s not six am, and they’ll talk about it beforehand so it’s not weird after, and Seokjin will have an orgasm and Jungkook will have the warm glow of a good deed well done, and Seokjin will be happy again, like he was after they talked, except it’ll last this time. Except, of course, if it doesn’t. But hey, if Jungkook has to take one for the team again, he will.

Even though it’s obviously a terrific idea, he mulls it over for a few days, thinks about the best way to bring it it up. Maybe he could do it over dinner (no, not if the others are there), or when they’re washing the dishes one night (can’t, the suds make it seem impersonal, and he doesn’t want Seokjin to think that jerking him off is a chore, or anything. A favour, sure, but not a chore). Eventually, it’s a Tuesday night, and Jungkook knocks on Seokjin’s door, waits for a “Yeah”, opens the door, walks in, and shuts it firmly behind him. For a second he feels like he should be nervous, before he remembers that this is just science. Biology. Maybe something more practical. Woodwork, he thinks, and lets out a snort so big it hurts. Clutching his nose in pain, he finally actually looks at Seokjin, who’s lying on his back on his bed, phone in hand, and a questioning look on his face.

“Hey,” Jungkook says, somewhat muffled from behind his hands.

“Hey,” Seokjin answers, places his phone face down on his chest.

“How’s your phone?” Jungkook asks, while he tries to figure out how to suggest that he touches Seokjin’s dick again, but in a cool, friendly way because Seokjin looks like he could use a good dick touching, and Jungkook’s a generous kind of dude who has absolutely no vested interest in touching Seokjin’s dick again, at all.

“Almost too good.” Seokjin says, like he could be answering any question in the world.

“Hey, do you want me to touch your dick again?”

Seokjin freezes, and remains that way long enough that for a split second, Jungkook almost questions whether or not time is working. He starts to ask again, just as Seokjin asks, bewildered, “What?”

“-want me to touch your dick again?”

“No, I heard you… what?”

“I-” Jungkook is stumped. He tries it again, changes up the intonation, “Do you... want me to touch your dick... again?”

“No!” Seokjin yelps.

Silence follows, and Jungkook feels a stab of disappointment so sharp it’s like he was the one who was going to have his dick touched.

“Oh.” he says, trying his best to not transmit how jarred he is by the firm rejection, but the stricken look on Seokjin’s face shows he wasn’t entirely successful.

“I was just trying to help,” Jungkook offers, feeling a little stupid.

Seokjin stares at him. Keeps on staring at him until Jungkook isn’t sure he exists anymore, he feels so small.

“I’m just gonna-”


Jungkook raises his head so quickly he has to blink a couple times to clear his vision.


“What-” Seokjin scrunches up his face, talks through it quickly, “what do you mean, do I want you to touch my dick again?”

A dozen possible answers filter through Jungkook’s brain: the way Seokjin looked beside him, the smell of his warm skin, his sigh and shudder of release and relief. The way he knew, at least in that moment, he was the one helping make Seokjin feel good in this small way. The way it made him feel useful, important. He doesn’t think about how his own orgasm, when he let himself think of Seokjin for a split second the next morning, made him nearly brain himself against the shower wall.

What Jungkook meant was, “He, look, I’ve still gotta figure some stuff out but I think me touching your dick would be a really great start, thanks.”

So what Jungkook says is, “...I dunno.”

Seokjin’s lips wobble, and Jungkook’s eyes widen in panic, except he’s not crying this time, he’s laughing. He’s laughing really hard. Jungkook would feel proud but he thinks he might be the butt of the joke. Fuck it, he feels a little proud. A grin plays on his lips, as he watches Seokjin dissolve further and further, rolling around and gasping and whacking the sheets next to him.

He did that.

“What’s so funny?” Jungkook finally half asks, half protests.

“Oh,” Seokjin lowers his voice mockingly, barely making sense between gasps of laughter, “‘I dunno.’” and he starts up again.

“Shut up!” Jungkook whines. He can feel himself going red, hates it and loves it at the same time.

“Oh, my name’s Jungkook,” Seokjin carries on, “And gosh darn it, I just don’t know why I asked to touch another fella’s ding-dong! Well, gee- mphf!”

At some point during Seokjin’s tirade, Jungkook had started walking towards him, and ends up launching onto the bed and smothering him with a pillow. He can hear Seokjin’s howls of protest, as he kicks and wriggles beneath him, until he wrestles his face clear of the pillow, flushed and gasping and still going, “-why could that possibly be, it sure is a mighty fine penis though-”

“Oh my God,” Jungkook moans, rolling off him and nearly off the bed, “I just…”

Seokjin rolls over onto his side, propping up his head on one arm like he’s at a slumber party. “You just…” he encourages, wiping his eyes.

“You seemed so…”

“I seemed so…”

“Like you needed…”

“A big ol’ hand on my peen?”

Jungkook covers his face with his hands, rolls over to bury himself in a pillow.

“Fine! Sorry! I’ll stop!”

Jungkook twists to breathe, one eye looking at Seokjin. As he talks, he can feel a little slobber hitting the pillow. Serves Seokjin right.

“I just wanted to make you feel-”

“Oh,” Seokjin leans in closer, eyes silly and mouth teasing, “you just wanted to make me feel good, huh?”

The fact that Seokjin’s jokingly husky voice sets an ache in Jungkook’s lower abdomen is frankly embarrassing. He rolls over onto his back to protest, “No! I mean - yes, but-”

Seokjin looks like he’s about to burst out laughing again, but he heroically manages to restrain himself, flopping over onto his back.

“Jungkook. God that felt weird. JK- that’s better. JK, I… this is so weird.” Seokjin drags his hand down his face.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologise, you giant weirdo. I just… thought we weren’t going to talk about it. And I’m growing a little concerned that you think that a handie between pals is, what, going to... fix something?”

“Well, I don’t see how a handjob ever makes things worse.” Jungkook justifies.

Seokjin snorts, “Fair point. But what happened the other night… that was…”

“A mistake?” Jungkook asks.

“No.” Seokjin says firmly.

A pause.

“Maybe. Probably? I don’t know. Like, thank you! I don’t want to sound…. Ungrateful, or anything.”

“I didn’t give you a present, hyung.”

“Well, y’kind of did.”

“Well,” Jungkook mimics, “Happy Birthday.”

Seokjin pointedly ignores him, carries on. “But we were both a little drunk, and tired, and…” he grimaces at himself, “emotional... and that doesn’t make me feel awesome, and I don’t want you to feel not awesome.”

“I don’t feel not awesome, though. And I… I wasn’t that drunk.” That feels a little more like admitting something than Jungkook is comfortable with, so he hurries to ask, “Do you feel not awesome because you think I feel not awesome?”


“Well then. Feel awesome.”


“Because I do.”

“Clearly, Jeon “Oh, uh, I dunno why I wanna touch your dick” Jungkook.”

“I’m being nice!”

“Some would say too nice.”

Jungkook humphs, crosses his arms and goes out on a limb, “So that’s a no then.”

“It is.”

“To the handjob.”


“Because it’s a bad idea.”


“...Why, though?” Jungkook chances.

“It just is.”


There’s silence as they both stare up at the ceiling.

“Still-” Jungkook starts.

“I mean-” Seokjin interrupts.

They pause again.

“I’ve done it once,” Jungkook points out.

“You have!” Seokjin agrees.

“And, I mean, we’re fine?” Jungkook checks.

“We’re fine.” Seokjin confirms, and he’s nothing if not a man of reason so he continues, “I mean, it was a bit weird at first, sure, but that was an accident, and look at us now! Beyond fine! So fine!”

“So fine!” Jungkook repeats, turns his head to meet Seokjin’s gaze, now only a few inches from his own.

“This is fine, right?” Seokjin asks, his voice suddenly quiet and a little unsure.

Jungkook nods. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Well, he knows what he wants to do with them, but what he should do is another story. He thinks they’re on the same page though, so he decides to go for gold, and places his palm over Seokjin’s dick.

Seokjin’s eyes widen, “Oh my god, you meant, like, now?”

Jungkook shoots up to sitting, pulls his hand back, “What? No! I mean, what did you mean?”

Seokjin sits up next to him, significantly slower, “I’m the one apparently receiving a friendly handjob, I’ll take what I can get.”

“Well then. Now’s good.”

Seokjin’s lips twitch, and he nods and spreads his arms wide in a gesture to his dick, “Have at it,” he says, grandly.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, and returns his right hand to on top of the warm bulge in Seokjin’s sweatpants, just resting it there.

Seokjin sits there, more agreeable than he’s ever been, and Jungkook starts to move his hand, just acquainting himself with the geography. Nothing too ridiculous - there’s a difference doing this sober, in the afternoon light. He’s less confident, or maybe he just cares more about doing a good job. He can’t imagine anything more embarrassing than giving a bad handjob, he’s only been giving them to himself at least five times a week for the past decade.

“This is… so weird.” Seokjin comments, quietly. He’s not wrong. It feels almost the same as a handshake, but on principle Jungkook looks him dead in the eye and demands “Do you wanna get jerked off or not?”

Seokjin makes a face, like Jungkook’s the one being ridiculous, but nods and shoots Jungkook a thumbs up. “Terrific job so far.”

Jungkook glares at Seokjin, and then his penis. Grabs it a little tighter than he otherwise would.

Seokjin hisses and jerks, “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Jungkook shoots him a sunny grin, rubs firmer but still just as slow. Seokjin’s lips slacken a little, and Jungkook thinks he can feel him start to swell.

There’s a tingle spreading down Jungkook’s neck, one he firmly ignores. Keeping his right hand on Seokjin’s dick, he runs the other hand up and down Seokjin’s thigh, rucking up his sweatpants. Seokjin leans back on his hands, knees dropping open and gaze fixed on Jungkook’s hand on his growing hardness. He lets out a soft sigh, gently rocking upwards.

“Good, hyung?” Jungkook asks, shooting for cocky but crash-landing in genuine. He wants to know. Wants Seokjin to tell him.

Seokjin huffs a laugh, “What do you think- oh…”

Jungkook presses down, giving Seokjin something more to rub up against. He’s nearly fully hard now, and Jungkook can’t help the heavy inhalation that draws Seokjin’s eyes to his.

They stay locked like that as Seokjin keeps rolling his hips upwards, until he tilts his head back and Jungkook can’t stop staring at his neck which is almost worse. His Adam’s apple has always been distracting, just right there whenever he’s dancing, eating, drinking, laughing, but it’s something else when his neck is stretched out like this, because of this. Because of Jungkook.

Scooching closer on the bed, Jungkook draws his left hand up from Seokjin’s thigh, to his waist, the little sliver of skin between his sweatpants and t-shirt, and runs his fingers under the elastic.

Seokjin drops his head, narrows his eyes, “Are you gonna just tease or am I gonna get a hand down my pants at some point.”

Jungkook pouts, “Hyung, I literally just put my hand in, I don’t think-” he flattens his palm, runs up the length of Seokjin’s dick over the fabric, “that counts as teasing.”

Seokjin hisses, “Fu- fine.”

“You want me to touch it?”


Jungkook grins, pulls himself even closer. “Okay,” he says, and pushes his hand under the elastic, on to the hot length of Seokjin’s cock. Seokjin’s gasp is gratifying, and Jungkook immediately circles his hand around the base, pulling up with a tight grip and then loosening on the way down.

“What did I fuckin’- fuck” Seokjin groans, pushing up into Jungkook’s hand, “fuckin’ say about teasing.”

“Oh, I dunno.” Jungkook says, with a pointed twist of his wrist.

Seokjin is caught between a surprised laugh and a moan, and it might be the best sound Jungkook has ever heard. His dick sure as shit thinks so, the way it’s pressing up against his jeans. Wriggling around to get some relief does nothing but worsen the problem, as his breath stutters. Seokjin’s eyes fly open, and he licks his lips.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks.

Jungkook doesn’t know what to say, so he just bites his lip and readjusts his grip.

“That’s good, if you are,” Seokjin continues, arching into Jungkook’s hands. “It feels good, I feel good, that’s what you wanted, right? Nothing wrong with you feeling good too.”

Jungkook nods, swallows, wriggles some more and lets out a little gasp.

“That sounds good, Jungkookie,” Seokjin says, “You gonna let me hear a few more of those sounds?”

Jungkook can’t help the small moan that escapes his throat, as he nods again.

Seokjin lets out a quick laugh, a longer groan, “That’s- yeah. Yeah. A little faster.”

Jungkook licks his lips, speeds up.


Jungkook tightens his grip.

“That’s good. That’s real good, Kook.”

“Yeah? Are you gonna come, hyung?”

Seokjin’s eyes fly open, a sharp look on his face, and a flush high on his cheeks, “Give me a little credit - oh, fuck!”

Jungkook snickers, uses his free hand to push his hair out of his face, where it’s sticking a little to his forehead. His back feels a little sweaty too, Seokjin always keeps his room warm.

“Watch it,” Seokjin snaps, meaning something entirely different than the thought that sends a jolt through the pit of Jungkook’s stomach.

“Can I?” He asks, stilling his hand entirely.

Seokjin thrusts his hips up into Jungkook’s slackened fist, impatient, “Why have you stopped? Can you what?”

Jungkook clears his throat, suddenly tight, “...Can I watch?”

Seokjin’s mouth drops open a little as he looks at Jungkook a little like he’s never seen him before, and a lot like he wants to kill him. “If it gets you to finish me off I’ll let you watch me fuck myself on a bedazzled dildo, just, please,” he rocks up again, “move.”

If Jungkook had thought he was inconveniently hard before, the mental image of Seokjin fucking himself was enough to make his dick jerk in his pants. His free hand rushes to shove at the waistband of Seokjin’s sweatpants, pushing them downwards, just enough for Jungkook to finally see what he’s doing. Finally see how his hand looks, wrapped around Seokjin’s cock. Finally see the wetness at its head, the flush, and the thick vein running up the underside. It’s about twenty times hotter than he was expecting, which was already too much for Jungkook’s higher brain functions. That’s my hand on Seokjin’s dick, he thinks. That’s what that looks like. I know what that looks like now.

“Please-” Seokjin starts.

“Yeah, hyung, one second.” Jungkook lets go of his dick, and Seokjin whimpers, “Just gotta-”

He licks his palm, reconsiders, then spits in it.

“It is truly disgusting how hot that is.” Seokjin complains, gasping when Jungkook’s hand, slick and warm, grabs onto the base of his dick again.

“You’re welcome.”

“Shut up. Keep going. More.”


“This isn’t a fuckin’ call and response exercise.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, want me to stop?”

“I will end you. Oh, and just to be clear,” Jungkook must be doing something right, because Seokjin’s eyelids flutter and he stops, mid-sentence.

“Just to be clear?” Jungkook prompts.

Seokjin twitches his head, swallows, “I was joking about that bedazzled-” he whines, squeezes his eyes closed, cock heavy in Jungkook’s hand, “bedazzled dildo. Rhinestones sound like a recipe for disaster.”

Seokjin’s chest is moving faster, a flush running up his long neck and small dots of sweat on his collarbones, exposed by his loose top. The impulse to run his tongue along them is almost paralyzing. A stream of encouragement flows from Seokjin’s rosy lips, plump and shiny, until his forehead creases, and his eyes open.

“I’m not gonna come like this,” Seokjin pants, “angle’s all wrong.”

“Okay, um,” Jungkook looks around the room, hand still working, as if something’s going to magically jump out at him and teach him how to dislocate his wrist. His mind goes completely blank. “What did we do last time?”

“I helped, remember?”


“If you make me jerk myself off again while you just sit there - oh shit - I’m fucking suing.” Seokjin gasps, flinging his head back against the pillow.

“Well what do you want me to do?!” Jungkook hisses, horniness mixed with panic. He can’t believe this is happening again. If you asked him at this very moment if he could choose between seeing Seokjin come and winning another Daesang, well. Jungkook refuses to feel ashamed.

“Oh, for-” Seokjin grabs behind Jungkook’s thigh, yanks it until Jungkook gets the message and moves closer, swings a leg over one of Seokjin’s upper thighs and all of a sudden Seokjin is beneath him, looking up at him and Jungkook is fucking frozen with how much he wants to see him come, doesn’t know how to make that happen.

Completely and thankfully oblivious, Seokjin grabs both Jungkook’s hands, wraps them around his dick, “There,” he breathes out, a mixture of pleasure and relief.

One hand around the base, the other on the tip, Jungkook starts to work them in tandem. The groan Seokjin lets out is obscene, as is the slow rolling of his hips upwards, just enough to brush his thigh against Jungkook’s bordering-on-painful hard on. Seeing him spread out beneath him was something Jungkook wasn’t ready for, could never be ready for - it’s so much, makes it all feel unreal and Seokjin looks too good, too good now that Jungkook can see him like this and he can’t help it, he lets out another moan of his own, speeds up and then speeds up some more, until Seokjin’s hands are shoved in the sheets next to him, grasping and twisting.

“That’s so-”


“Yeah - please, I’m-”

“You gonna come now, hyung?”

“Yeah, uh-huh-”

“I wanna see it, show me, please-”

Seokjin’s whole body tightens, stomach shuddering, face twisting, bottom lip bitten, dick jerking in Jungkook’s hands as he comes with a low, drawn out curse.

It’s the hottest thing Jungkook has ever seen in his entire goddamn life. And he’s watched a lot of porn. Seokjin’s chest his heaving, eyes closed, bottom lip still clenched between his teeth. Come is splattered on his sweatshirt, and on his lower stomach where his top had ridden up, clinging to his happy trail, and it takes intense focus for Jungkook to resist running his fingers through it.

His heart is racing, and he’s 90 percent certain that if Seokjin moved his thigh in the right way, just once, he’d be coming in his pants. It’s that thought, and the fact that he knows beyond any doubt that Seokjin would literally never let him live that down, that has him lifting his leg and shifting off Seokjin to perch on the side of the bed.

“Well, that was-”

“Yeah.” Seokjin agrees, still panting softly, “Good job, buddy, holy shit.” He reaches out a hand blindly to pat Jungkook on the back. It’s a miracle of science that Jungkook can feel it, he’d swear that every single nerve ending in his body had somehow taken up residence in his dick.

“I’m gonna-” Jungkook says, standing up.

“Okay,” Seokjin agrees, shooting him a thumbs up.

And Jungkook waddles out of Seokjin’s room, down the hallway, into his own, and locks the door.



In the days following, Seokjin is a man transformed, and Jungkook pats himself on the back for a job well done. He searches for any signs of hidden pain, and lingering wounds, but Seokjin is bright and breezy, and when he isn’t it’s not because of a broken heart, it’s because he’s exhausted, or hungry, or maybe just wants a bit of quiet.

Jungkook still tries to help out where he can, checking if he wants food when he makes some for himself (when he remembers), making him some tea to help him fall asleep (or asking Jimin to when he’s making some), or sitting next to Seokjin when he’s playing guitar or reading a book, maybe scrolling Twitter, and staying perfectly silent (unless he has something really interesting or important to say, which happens sometimes).

Seokjin likes his company, Jungkook thinks, smiling to himself over his breakfast in the kitchen one morning when Namjoon walks in and goes straight to the fridge.

“Hey hyung,” Jungkook mumbles through a mouthful of rice.

“Morning Kook,” Namjoon yawns, running a hand through his bedhead. It’s worse than usual, thanks to all the bleaching and dyeing for their latest comeback. Cute though, Jungkook thinks, and smiles even more.

“You’re looking chipper this morning?” Namjoon asks him over a swig of juice, straight from the big bottle.

Jungkook shrugs, grins around his spoon.

“That’s nice, I’m glad for you.”

Namjoon’s always super sincere when he hasn’t fully woken up from a good sleep, and Jungkook feels an extra sweet squeeze around his heart.

“Me too, hyung.”

Putting the juice back in the now-beeping fridge, Namjoon closes the door and wanders over to the pantry cupboards. After rifling through the boxes for a minute, he apparently finds what he was looking for (a bar of some kind, probably organic and ethically sourced, because Namjoon is the best person Jungkook’s ever met) and sighs happily to himself.

On his way out of the kitchen, Namjoon seems to remember Jungkook and turns back to him. Looking at him he says, “Keep it up, Kook,” winks, scrunches up his nose and shuffles off.



He does.

Not that it takes much. It’s like him and Seokjin have a private joke, Jungkook thinks. He knows it isn’t, because him and Seokjin have always had private jokes, and this isn’t what they feel like, not really, but sometimes…

Sometimes they’ll just catch each other’s eye and share a grin, and it’s like it always has been, but better.

Jungkook didn’t realise how much he’d like knowing secret stuff about Seokjin, but it turns out he fucking loves it. He wants to know more about the sounds he makes, the way his muscles jerk and the way his sweat smells when it’s fresh. Wants to say to Seokjin, casually, that he’d been thinking that maybe he could try some other stuff, if he was into it.

But he guesses that it doesn’t really matter, what he wants, because that’s not what it’s about, not ever what this has been about. So he pushes it aside, which is something he isn’t used to. It’s almost irritating how much he likes hanging out with Seokjin, irritating when he can’t stop laughing at his stupid jokes or feeling calm when he sits next to him in the corner of the dance studio, or something close to awe when he creeps into the studio and listens to Seokjin laying down his demo track. He gets caught there, in Seokjin’s voice, standing in the corner next to the couch. It’s happened before, at side-stage or during rehearsal. Jungkook knows that he has a technical ability that Seokjin would, if not kill, then at least commit a glamourous diamond heist for, but there’s something about Seokjin’s tone - how it’s grown, continues to grow when he sings like he means it, that Jungkook is a little scared he’ll never possess.

When Seokjin comes out of the booth for a break, Jungkook’s still there. He’s sitting now, which is almost more embarrassing because it seems like he’s been waiting for something, but Seokjin just greets him with a smile around the top of his water bottle, a quirked eyebrow that doesn’t turn into a question. So Jungkook doesn’t answer it, just says, “Sounds good hyung. Really good.”

Seokjin looks a little taken aback, dimples a little when he smiles in response. It’s small, one of two smiles Jungkook is used to receiving when he compliments Seokjin. It’s the one he doesn’t see as often, the one where it feels like maybe there’s a chance he’s taken it on board, might take it to heart. Jungkook hopes so.

“You almost finished?”

Seokjin shrugs, nods in the direction of the producer and their desk. “Will have to see what they think. Why?”

Jungkook didn’t have a reason when he asked, but he bullshits his way through. “Was thinking we could go to the gym? Haven’t been with you in a while, wanna see if you still…” look really hot sweaty he’s your friend you walking boner shut up shut up shut up “ it?”

“Oh ho ho ho!” Seokjin crows unconvincingly, before abruptly changing tack as exhaustion seems to overwhelm him and his whole body shifts. “Can we raincheck? I’m tired.”

“Oh, sure!” Jungkook replies, shooting him a thumbs up like a big nerd, “No worries, totally get it - next time.”

Seokjin looks at him like he’s said something funny. Or not funny, cute.

Jungkook takes a chance.

“You wanna, uh. Just watch a movie, or something?”

Seokjin smiles again, just like before. “Yeah. That sounds nice.”

There’s a moment, when they get back to Jungkook’s room. It’s just after Jungkook’s changed into his most comfortable sweatshirt, and Seokjin’s browsing for a movie to watch, when Jungkook hops on his bed next to Seokjin and bumps his shoulder into Seokjin’s when he points out on the screen what he’d been thinking of watching.

There’s another moment, when Seokjin turns to Jungkook in the middle of the movie and asks him, voice pitched low as if there are other people in the room, if he could pass him another blanket.

And another, when the movie’s over and they’ve discussed every minute of it worth discussing (few) and all the others (many), and Seokjin is in his doorway and if it were anyone else, anyone else, Jungkook might think they were lingering.

It’s all these moments, where Jungkook almost thinks that maybe Seokjin is waiting for him. To say something, or ask something.

But he isn’t, and Jungkook doesn’t, because he shouldn’t, because that’s stupid. Because he doesn’t know what he’d even ask, or say, he just can’t stop thinking.


It turns out he doesn’t have to, for long.

It’s been a couple of weeks since Seokjin came underneath Jungkook, came in his hands, and it’s not as if that’s how Jungkook measures time now but it doesn’t seem unreasonable to circle the date in his brain. It’s been a couple of weeks and it’s eleven pm and Jungkook is sitting at his desk in his room, deciding between carrying on working on his sketch spread out before him, reading the new manga he’d just gotten delivered or playing a video game, when there’s a knock on his door.

It’s gross, how much he wants it to be Seokjin, and it’s even grosser how he feels when it turns out that it is. 

“What’re you up to?” Seokjin asks, hands in his pockets and leaning against the doorframe.

“Not much, just sketching.” Decision made as he spoke, Jungkook twirls around in his chair to face his desk, his back to Seokjin.

Jungkook hears him walk over, feels him place his hands on the back of Jungkook’s chair and lean over him to check out what he’s been doing.

“This is really great,” he says, like he always does, and when Jungkook points that out he says, “That’s because it’s always true,” and Jungkook doesn’t know what to say to that because his cheeks are red and he’s smiling and that already says too much.

“You been working on that for long?” Seokjin asks, wandering around Jungkook’s space, picking up things and putting them down again. Jungkook spins round in his desk chair again, this time to follow Seokjin with his eyes. “Nah,” he says.

“Our Jungkookie, so talented.” Seokjin teases, and Jungkook reddens even more.

“What do you want?” he asks Seokjin’s back, and wonders why the thought of an answer makes his palms tingle.

“Who, me?” Seokjin turns back to him, eyes wide and pointing at his own chest.

Jungkook nods.

“I just came to say hi, can’t I do that?”

“Well you’ve said hi.” Jungkook says, because he’s a pain in the ass and he can’t resist.

Seokjin grins, “I have. Shall I leave you to it, then?”

Jungkook shrugs, spins round once more, wishes he could blame that for what’s happening in his stomach. “Do what you like, hyung.”

Seokjin coughs, and Jungkook’s shoulders move, the only sign of a giggle he lets out.

“Well if it’s all the same to you, I might hang out here for a bit. Is that acceptable?”

“It’s like what I said, hyung.” Jungkook remarks, a little pointed. “Do what you like.”

“Okay.” Seokjin replies, almost too quiet to hear.

Jungkook carries on drawing, focus torn between the page before him and the little noises Seokjin makes, touching all his things, sitting down, standing up, walking over to stand behind him. Jungkook feels so on edge by the time Seokjin finally touches him he almost jumps. Seokjin’s hand is on his shoulder, and he plucks at Jungkook’s t-shirt, running a couple of fingers along the neckline. Then it moves up, grazes a freckle on Jungkook’s neck, runs behind his earlobe and down again. He keeps this up, fingertips light, almost running up into his hair before redirecting it down again, until Jungkook’s neck is outstretched, goosebumps erupting all over him, pencil dropped on the paper below. He feels tight, a little breathless.

“What are you doing?” Jungkook asks.

“What I like, Jungkookie.” Seokjin answers.

Jungkook sighs, opens up a little more to his hand, “Oh.”

Seokjin keeps running his fingers up and down Jungkook’s neck, down and around to his collarbones, always light, barely there.

“I was just thinking, it’s not really fair is it?”

It takes a second for Jungkook to realise that he wants a response, asking, “What’s not fair?”

“Well it’s like you said,” Seokjin explains, like he’s talking about the weather, hand still moving, “I’m the one that’s gotten to come, twice now actually, and you don’t seem to want anything in return. Is that right?”

“Um.” Jungkook’s brain is struggling to keep up, the fault of Seokjin’s hand. He doesn’t want to sound like he’s done anything because he wants something in return, that’s not why he did it, not really. He wanted to help, discovered he wanted to see Seokjin come, he got that, anything else is a bonus. But then he remembers being on top of him, dying to grind down on Seokjin’s thigh, and he thinks maybe asking wouldn’t be so bad after all. Not if that’s what he got.


“I was thinking, maybe I could return the favour, if you wanted?”

Jungkook gulps, nods. Seokjin’s hand stills, draws back, and Jungkook turns to meet him.

“What do you want?” Seokjin asks, standing in front of him.

Jungkook almost laughs, his mind filling immediately with a ton of incredibly graphic images. Instead he bites his lip, considering.

“Last time,” he says, “last time when I was on top of you… I liked that.”

“You want me to jerk you off while you’re on top of me?”

Jungkook shakes his head, feels a bit stupid asking for what he wants, but this is.... This is almost business-like. He has to say what he wants if he’s going to get it. A favour for a favour.

“No, I wanna ride your thigh.”

Seokjin’s mouth drops open, just a touch. “OK,” he says after a pause. “Where do you want me?”

Jungkook looks down at the desk chair for a second, before ruling it out. He feels like that won’t end well.

“Maybe just on the floor, hyung?”

“Not on the bed?”

Jungkook tries to hide a grin, fails. “Might get a little… squeaky.”

Seokjin snorts, grabs a pillow from the bed and drops it on the ground where he then sits obligingly. He puts his legs out before him, spreads them a little and raises one knee and then the other. “Choose your poison,” he says.

Jungkook doesn’t know what he’s on about, but he takes it as an invitation and walks towards him, settles down over one thigh. He just sits there for a second, not sure what to do with his hands until Seokjin puts them on his shoulders, says, “There you go.”

Still, he sits there, eyes on his hands on Seokjin’s shoulders and eventually Seokjin asks, “Are you sure you don’t want a hand, just to get you started?”

And that makes Jungkook realise what he’s doing, start to move his hips lightly against Seokjin’s thigh. “No, no, this is good,” he reassures him.

It doesn’t take long for Jungkook to get hard - it never does, not with Seokjin, and the hand on his neck and collarbone had given him a semi already.

“Shit,” Seokjin says, as Jungkook rubs up against him. “You weren’t kidding.”

Jungkook laughs, a little self-conscious, and Seokjin must feel the need to reassure him, saying, “That’s hot, honestly. You getting hard that easily. Does it always happen that quickly for you?”

Jungkook shakes his head, keeps his pace steady.

“I feel honoured.” Seokjin says, dry but appreciative.

Jungkook scrunches up his nose in a grin, replies, “You’re welcome.”

Seokjin doesn’t seem to have anything to say to that, and Jungkook quickly loses focus on anything other than how good it feels, rubbing up against Seokjin’s thigh. He thinks he must be making little noises, knows he can be loud, but he doesn’t think about the possible effect it could be having on Seokjin until he rocks up higher and his thigh presses up against Seokjin’s hardness. Seokjin lets out something close to a wheeze, closes his eyes and whispers, “Fuck.”

Jungkook can’t help it, he laughs, breathless and delighted. “You too, hyung?”

Seokjin rolls his eyes, Jungkook can hear it as he replies, “Were you expecting me not to find you getting yourself off against me hot?”

“Honestly hadn’t thought about it.” Jungkook says.


Jungkook laughs again, rubbing up against him higher, trying to press against Seokjin, make him feel as good as he does. Seokjin groans, “I’m trying to return the favour, please let me be the bigger man here.”

“You could never.” Jungkook snipes.

“Is that a dick joke, JK?” Seokjin asks, ends on a whine as Jungkook rubs against him just right.

Jungkook can’t be bothered replying, instead says, “What if I want you to come too, hyung, what if that’s part of the favour. What if it makes me get off, getting you off, what about that?”

Seokjin nods, throat working as he gulps. “Far be it from me to…” Jungkook must do something right because Seokjin seems to lose his train of thought for a second, before wedging his hands under Jungkook’s ass and asking, “May I?”

Jungkook nods, and he lifts him up, just enough to swing Jungkook’s leg over so he’s straddling him completely, spread out on top of him, and when Jungkook rolls into him he can feel everything.

“That feels good, right?”

Jungkook lets out a little moan, which Seokjin must take as him agreeing as he continues, dragging his hands up to Jungkook’s lower back, securing him against him and telling him, like a confession, “I like feeling you against me.”

Something flares in Jungkook’s abdomen and he nods, helpless, rolling his hips into Seokjin who’s started to rock back up as much as he can. It’s not much, but it’s enough to have Jungkook feeling like he might burst out of his skin if he doesn’t come soon. Seokjin won’t shut up which doesn’t help at all, teasing words quiet and hot against his ear, “Fuck, you got hard so quick, I wonder how fast I can make you come, baby? You gonna come in your pants, all over me? You wanna come all over me?”

“Jesus, fuck, hyung-”

“That’s it, that’s it-”

Jungkook keeps on rocking his hips, hands gripping Seokjin’s broad shoulders. The soft slide of his sweatpants is torture. He can feel Seokjin, hard against him, and he pulls himself closer until they’re chest to chest. He drops his head onto Seokjin’s shoulder, gasps, his hot breath hitting Seokjin’s neck and he can’t help but nuzzle in, mouth catching against his skin. Seokjin lets out a little noise, tilts his neck back and the expanse calls Jungkook a lost cause as he drags his mouth upwards to Seokjin’s jaw. It’s not kissing, not really, just a slow slide of lips on skin, stubble and a little sweat. Jungkook slows his rhythm, deliberate and searching. His mouth is slack, open as he runs it along Seokjin’s jaw until he’s right there, right where he didn’t know he wanted to be.

“H-hyung,” he says, not really a question, but Seokjin answers with a nod anyway, catching Jungkook’s bottom lip between his own. It’s soft, so soft, slick and warm as Jungkook presses back, arching in. It’s good, beyond good, as Seokjin parts his lips, kisses deeper, grips Jungkook’s waist, presses his hands onto the small of Jungkook’s back and drags them up to his shoulders, neck, hair. Jungkook whines into his mouth, rocks down as Seokjin rises up to meet him, and the pressure turns it into something almost gutteral, something that if Jungkook was capable of thinking anything other than yes, fuck, more, he might feel embarrassed about. But he isn’t, so he doesn’t, and instead he keeps on going, keeps on asking with his lips and his body and his voice. He’s moving faster now, he can’t help it, not when Seokjin’s touching him the way he is, kissing him like he is. He draws back, licks his lips and blinks, fuzzy and panting.

Seokjin looks up at him, bottom lip caught between his teeth, pulls his hands down again to rest on Jungkook’s waist and hold him against him as he rocks up, steady.

“You good?”

“Uh-huh,” Jungkook nods, braces himself against Seokjin. All he can focus on is Seokjin’s hot breath, the faint tingles sparking throughout his torso, “Really, really good.”

“Yeah? You look good. You taste good too. Always thought you would, taste good,” Seokjin’s hips stutter as he rambles, “You sound good too, Jungkookie, all those noises you make,”

Jungkook whimpers.

“Yeah, like that one, you sound like you’re gonna come, are you gonna come, Jungkookie? I wanna feel you come, baby.”

Jungkook nods, pressing harder and faster. He’s close, he feels like he’s been close for hours, not minutes or seconds. He might not know what words are anymore, since his brain has taken up full-time, permanent residence in his dick, rather than just it’s regular time-share arrangement, but he knows that he wants to come with Seokjin’s mouth on him, knows enough to say, “Kiss me, please.”

Jungkook does’t know whether it’s the tone of his voice, or just saying it outloud, but it makes Seokjin’s eyes widen, like they hadn’t just had their tongues down each others throats, like Jungkook wasn’t close to coming in his fucking pants like a goddamn teenager, before he groans and drags Jungkook down to meet his mouth. It’s messy and a touch desperate, hot and wet and everything he wants. Jungkook tries to breath through his nose, but it takes too much concentration when he can just pant against Seokjin’s soft lips, kiss him through it, grab his hair and say please, please, please, feel Seokjin pull him down, down against him where he’s hot and hard and wanting, press against him again and again and again until he’s shuddering, coming, Seokjin’s mouth against his, cock jerking and spilling against his own, thin fabric doing nothing to hide it.

He sits there for a minute, catching his breath and gasping into Seokjin’s mouth, who keeps kissing him, slower now, running his hands up into Jungkook’s hair to bring him closer. His mouth is so gentle Jungkook can’t stand it, wants it to go on forever, or at least until he falls asleep which should be in about five minutes based on his track record. Eventually Seokjin slows down to a standstill, pressing his lips to Jungkook’s one final time, before breaking away. Jungkook eventually opens his eyes, looks at Seokjin, tempted to lean in one more time before realising just how much his thighs and knees hurt. “Ow,” he says.

Seokjin blinks at him. “Did you just say ‘wow’?”

Jungkook blinks back, “No-”

“You did, you just said ‘wow’!”

“No I didn’t!” Jungkook protests, whacking a hand against Seokjin’s chest.

Seokjin ignores him, crowing, arms clasped behind Jungkook’s back, “Yes you did! You did!”

“I said ow, you jackass-“

Seokjin sighs, slowly shakes his head in mock amazement, “I can’t believe I just rocked your world so much all you can say is ‘wow’, God, I knew I was good, but-”

“You’re fine, thank you,” Jungkook corrects, pushing himself up and off of Seokjin, slowing becoming aware of the rapidly cooling come in his underwear and wincing. “Perfectly acceptable, in fact. I said ow because my thighs hurt.”

“That’s what they all say.” Seokjin says, wisely.

“What are you even- y’know what? No. I’m not engaging.”

“It’s a bit late for that.”

“I need to change my underwear. You can go now.”

“I think I’ll stay right here.”

And so he does, weirdly, and Jungkook feels all nice in his stomach about it, which is even weirder, except he had just had a really great orgasm, so it was probably just that.

And when he gets out of the shower, Seokjin’s still in his room, or rather, he’s come back after his own shower. He’s dressed in his RJ pajamas, which is its own issue, as is his ruffled and damp hair, but Jungkook doesn’t say anything about it. Not when they’re watching an episode of a shitty drama, not when Seokjin starts rifling through Jungkook’s drawers to find snacks against Jungkook’s loud protests that he’s gonna mess everything up, and not when they fall asleep with the light on, and Jungkook wakes up in the morning with a dent in the covers next to him, and a laundry hamper that he can’t look at without laughing.



He can’t stop thinking about kissing Seokjin.

He can’t stop thinking about kissing Seokjin.

He thinks about it at breakfast, when Seokjin wipes a dribble of Yakult from the side of his mouth. He thinks about it at rehearsal, when Seokjin’s face is red and his shirt clings to the sweat dripping down his back. He thinks about it whenever Seokjin is eating, which is constantly, and he thinks about it when Seokjin is talking, which is also pretty much constantly, and especially, most irritatingly, when he’s silent. It’s screwing with his concentration. Hoseok even asks him if he’s okay when he messes up the same basic step in rehearsal three times in a row, all because he could see Seokjin in the mirror, sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone with a small pout on his face, and all Jungkook could think about doing was kissing it off. It’s annoying. It’s frustrating. It’s distracting. It’s completely Seokjin, and it’s driving Jungkook up the goddamn wall.

“Jungkook, come on!” Hoseok snaps.

Jungkook jumps, realising he’s done it again.

“Sorry, hyung,” he grimaces.

Hoseok crosses his arms, purses his lips, “What’s the problem?”

Jungkook opens his mouth, closes it again and shrugs, reaches a hand up and across his torso to rub his shoulder. He didn’t stretch properly, and it shows.

Hoseok sighs, “I know the choreo isn’t too difficult, you’re just not concentrating. We’ve got-” he checks his watch, “two hours until we’ve gotta be out of here, and I wanna get this done, so just. Sort it. Drop it. Leave it at the door, remember? Do you wanna take five?”

Jungkook shoots a glance at Jimin, who’s been doing the same choreography perfectly for the past fifteen minutes while Jungkook screws it up over and over again. Jimin raises one eyebrow, and Jungkook nods.

“Yes please.”

“OK,” Hoseok claps, “Five minutes. Then we go, and we get it right.” It’s not a question, but Jungkook nods anyway.

Seokjin’s still scrolling, but the pout has disappeared. Jungkook doesn’t join him on the couch. Instead he wanders over to where Taehyung’s slumped against the mirror, possibly asleep. He could have left an hour ago, but Jungkook knows he and Jimin have plans afterwards, so he assumes Taehyung’s waiting, which makes him feel even guiltier.

Sliding down the mirror next to him, Jungkook nudges Taehyung’s shoulder with his own in apology.

Taehyung grunts in response, drops his head onto Jungkook’s shoulder. He’s tired, they all are, all the time. It just depends how well equipped they are to deal with it. Jungkook hopes they’re blaming his mistakes on that.

“Hey Jungkookie?” Taehyung whispers, eyes nearly closed.

“Yeah?” Jungkook whispers back.

“You wanna come to the movies with me and Jimin?”



It’s a weird thing, when you’re so famous that going to the movies no longer means actually going to the movies, and instead translates loosely to ‘going to the private cinema that your band mates actor friend has in his own home and has given him a key to’, but Jungkook can’t say he hates it. It’s done up like some ‘50’s American theatre too, with a life-sized figure of a girl holding out a tray complete with striped popcorn boxes and velvet curtains on either side of the projector screen. Jungkook hasn’t asked what movie they’re watching, but it doesn’t really matter. It’s nice to hang out with Taehyung and Jimin, just them three.

Jimin immediately starts organising them, doling out blankets from the boxes running along the wall and jogging to grab drinks and more snacks, while Taehyung searches for the right movie on the twelve hundred streaming services Seo-Joon is signed up to. Jungkook doesn’t help at all, just sits and waits, fiddles with the reclining chair until he hears a snapping noise and then pretends he didn’t, just sits really still for thirty seconds.

“You found it yet?” Jimin hollers from the hallway, as he makes his way back into the mini-theatre with his arms full.

“Yeah,” Taehyung confirms, frowning at the remote as he tries to get it to play. Jimin shoves some candy at Jungkook, drops the rest on the couch he and Taehyung are apparently sharing, then goes to stand next to Taehyung and wind his arm around his waist. Taehyung drops his head onto the top of Jimin’s, and Jungkook’s chest twinges.

Normally Jungkook is close to immune to their… them-ness, but for some reason tonight feels different. He hangs out with them enough that he’s never third wheeling precisely, because they’re not… anything other than what they are. But sometimes it sucks knowing that no matter how much someone loves you, they love someone else more. They have a person, and you don’t. Even if he doesn’t want their love. Not in the way he wants -

It’s stupid, Jungkook thinks. He’s being stupid. All he really wants is someone to share a couch with, which is ridiculous in and of itself because obviously having more room is better, and he’s not even on a couch, he’s on a recliner, that is definitely not broken.

Maybe he’ll text Yugyeom, or their group chat. He should have invited Yugyeom, he always cheers him up. Or Yoongi. Yoongi’d sit next to him and be companionably pissy. Or Seokjin, Seokjin would be good. He’d send a glare at Taehyung and Jimin every time they whispered at each other, or did anything equally gross. He’d probably make a joke about - about - Jungkook looks at Jimin and Taehyung and all of a sudden he’s got nothing. Maybe he’ll text Seokjin and tell him how dumb they’re being. He wonders what Seokjin is doing, what his face would do if he got his text. He’s probably in bed already, since he’s an old fart and it’s past nine pm on a weeknight. Maybe he’s not asleep yet, just lying there, or sitting up in his bed, reading with his glasses on, maybe with his chest bare and the light dim - No. No. Jungkook rewinds to old fart (not his finest work, but everyone has off days), pulls out his phone and sends Seokjin a string of wind and shit emojis then drops his phone on his lap.

“Oi!” Jungkook shouts, breaking apart Jimin and Taehyung, who were doing something disgusting like smiling at each other while talking, “Where’s the movie at?”

Jimin pulls a face, grabs Taehyung by the hand and tugs him to their couch, as Taehyung finally presses play on the remote, and the room darkens immediately because apparently Seo-Joon is not only exceptionally generous, he’s also probably a genius. Automatically dimming lights, Jungkook thinks, opening a packet of candy. Seokjin would lose his shit.

Unlike last time, this movie’s actually interesting. It’s less blue light and long stares in the teachers lounges of badly funded schools and more explosions and tank tops and - and his phone buzzes.

Jimin shushes him, which is becoming a habit that’s gotta be dealt with, and Jungkook ignores him, picks up his phone and dims the screen light like a gentleman.

It’s Seokjin.

Jungkook ignores the warm twist in his stomach, and unlocks his phone to see

Excuse me???????

Jungkook leaves him on read for thirty seconds, just on principle, before replying

You’re excused


I may not be hip with the youth but if you think I can’t tell when ur calling me a fart, you’ve got another thing comin sonny jim



Old* fart

For that, Seokjin leaves him on read for five minutes, which Jungkook knows because he sees the minute change up the top of his phone five times until the dots start up again. And then stop. And then start again.

How long did it take you to come up with that one

About 3 seconds

It shows


Jungkook grins. 

What’s up?

Nothing. You

Watching a movie with Jimin and Taehyung at one of his friends houses

You fool. You absolute imbecile.  

Nah the movies actually good this time

I wish I could believe that

Lol it is!!! At least 3 ppl have died in explosions and it’s only been on for like 15min. U’d like it

Is it at Seo-joon’s place?


Oh man it’s so nice there! Is the weird popcorn lady still in the corner?

Yes!!!!!!! Is the popcorn edible?

Try it

Jungkook rolls his eyes at his screen, then eyes the popcorn lady doubtfully.

You’re thinking abt it aren’t you


Jungkook please don’t eat the popcorn.

Or do eat the popcorn

Idk I’m in two minds about the whole situation



The recliners r so comfy.

Jungkook taps out his next message, then deletes it. He does this three times, then leaves it there and hits send.

U should have come hyung

As soon as the ‘Read’ pops up, a clock starts ticking in Jungkook’s chest.



Well I wasn’t invited, thanks!

Since when have u needed an invitation

Get fucked I’m polite as hell  


The three dots start up again, pause, start up, pause.

I don’t think I could fit on that recliner with you, anyway

Jungkook heart and dick leap in his chest and jeans, respectively. The actual fuck is happening.

U could try

I could

Jungkook takes a deep breath and goes for broke.

U could do a lot of things

Could I?


Jungkook panics - the full stop was too intense.

I mean u might as well

Since u’ve done a few things already

It seems weird to me that you’re using u and an apostrophe in the same word but what do I know

Come by my room when you’re home, if u want


More dots. Jungkook is losing his grip on reality.


That was my impression of you, good right

OK enjoy the movie lol

Yeah u got me


With that joke

U got me with that joke

See u at home :)


Jungkook would gladly brain himself with his phone. A fucking smiley face. Jesus Christ.



“I just thought, it’s been a while since I’ve had a dick in my mouth, and they say it’s like riding a bike, but why risk it? And if we’re doing this, then…” he quirks a brow at Jungkook, who is having a time of it reconciling how he got here and what small village of orphaned chimpanzees he had to have saved in a past life to deserve this.

He’d thought about staying for the whole movie, after Seokjin’s texts, he really had. But after the twelfth explosion, when he’d turned to Taehyung and asked who the guy in the tank top was and gotten the reply of, “Are you in a coma? That’s the main dude, Kook,” he’d complained of a sore stomach, or head, he couldn’t remember which, booked a car and basically power walked through the apartment to knock on Seokjin’s door, and now he was here, and Seokjin wants to suck his dick.

“...I’m guessing you don’t have any complaints?” Seokjin asks.

“Huh? No.” Jungkook shakes his head furiously, “No! No complaints.”

“Terrific! Then,” he gestures to his bed, “be my guest.”

Jungkook tips his imaginary hat, regrets it, says, “Don’t mind if I do,” and regrets that even more.

Seokjin’s mouth twitches, and he follows Jungkook to the bed and drops to his knees when Jungkook has sat down.

“D’ya wanna pillow?” Jungkook asks.

“I really did raise you right. Yes, please.”

Jungkook grimaces, passing him one which he places under his knees. “Please don’t ever say that again.”

Seokjin nods, cringes, “Fair point. Okay, unzip your pants.”

Jungkook hurries to oblige.

“Did you shower this morning?” Seokjin asks, face dispassionate.

“Yes!” Jungkook defends.

“Good.” Seokjin waits. “Now your underwear,” he says, like Jungkook should just magically know that he needs to take off his underwear to get his dick sucked.

Jungkook falters a little. It feels a bit weird to do this, to have Seokjin see his dick for the first time (in this context, not in general) when he’s not even hard. He’s turned on, absolutely - he’d been turned on since their conversation had gone from innocent to slightly-less-so-but-still-nothing-overtly-incriminating just over an hour ago, but...

Seokjin must be able to tell, because he brings a hand up to Jungkook’s calf, runs it up and down a few times.

“It’s okay. If you don’t want to do anything, or something-“

“I do! I absolutely do, I just - I’m good.” And he takes a deep breath, and pushes down his underwear so his soft dick is fully exposed.

“God damnit, Jungkook.”


“You’ve even got a nice looking dick. And it’s soft. Do you know how annoying it is that you’re even good at having a soft dick?” Seokjin leans in, takes it in his hand, “And it smells nice. This is an outrage.”

Jungkook would giggle, but Seokjin’s actual hand is on his actual penis and he can see it with his actual eyes, so that’s really all he’s up to processing at this stage.

Seokjin hand starts light, slow. “You gonna get hard for me?” he asks, provokingly casual.

Jungkook nods, swallows, he already is. Just seeing Seokjin’s face so close to his dick is enough, his torturous hand movements aside.

“You want my mouth? Will my mouth get you hard?”

Jungkook nods again.

“Is that a yes?”

Jungkook doesn’t know how many times he has to nod to get Seokjin’s mouth on his dick but he’s willing to keep going, until an exasperated grin breaks onto Seokjin’s face. “I want you to tell me, dipshit. Say yes.”

“Oh! Yes. Yes! Yes it will.”

“OK. Good,” and Seokjin leans forward and takes him in his mouth.

Jungkook has had blowjobs before, really fucking great blowjobs, actually, all different methods in all kinds of places and he wants to pay them their dues but holy shit, Seokjin’s mouth. It’s hot, and wet, deep and slow. Seokjin’s tongue is almost still, it’s just the motion of his head that’s causing the delicious friction getting Jungkook’s toes curling in his socks and heat in his belly. Seokjin draws back, a sheen of saliva on his lips and Jungkook’s now swelling cock, and he curls his hand round the base.

“Can you actually take your jeans off? Fully? I thought the whole just got your dick out thing would be kind of hot but I think we can do better.”

Jungkook lurches to standing, shoving his jeans and underwear down his legs, Seokjin helping get them off his feet.

His dick is bobbing ludicrously, but he couldn’t care less as he sits back down, and Seokjin smiles up at him.

“So obliging.”

Jungkook nods, again, and Seokjin’s smile cracks into a grin and a little laugh.

He takes his right hand and places it back on Jungkook’s dick, leans in and places a small kiss on the side. Jungkook groans in response, and the kiss turns wet and open, something almost filthy as Seokjin drags his mouth up the side and licks around the head, flushed dark and shiny with spit. All of a sudden his lips are surrounding Jungkook again, so slick as he drops his hand and takes Jungkook in deep. Jungkook wants to cover his face with his hands but he can’t look away, can’t let himself not soak up every inch of Seokjin’s face, lips stretched around him and an open look in his eyes as he moves faster now, and Jungkook’s hips leap in response. Seokjin raises his eyebrows, plunges down again and stays there, still and tight, just his tongue moving.

Jungkook’s mouth drops open, letting out a moan, and Seokjin moves in response, making Jungkook moan again. He draws back, bringing his hand back up to circle the tip loosely as he asks, conversationally and around a mouthful of saliva, “Do you want me to hold you down, or do you wanna fuck my mouth?”

Jungkook whimpers, and Seokjin grins. “I’ll take that as,” he leans down, whispers to Jungkook’s dick, “you’re easy.”

Placing his hands on Jungkook’s hips, he holds him firm against the edge of the bed. Jungkook thinks he might be able to move, but doesn’t want to, doesn’t even want to try, and Seokjin starts fucking him with his mouth, loose at first, small dribbles of saliva at the corners of his mouth, then tight, so tight and hot and good Jungkook can’t stop making these noises, like he’s out of his head, little pants and huffs and moans, and they’re all he can hear apart from Seokjin’s heavy breath through his nose and the sloppy sound of Seokjin sucking him off, and he thinks he might come, maybe, he’s close, he tries to tell Seokjin but can’t, can’t do anything but try to not fuck up into Seokjin’s mouth until all of a sudden it’s just a hand on his cock and Seokjin asking him,

“Do you want to come on my face?”

Jungkook genuinely doesn’t care, part of him doesn’t want to come at all, he wants his dick back in Seokjin’s mouth and to remain in Seokjin’s mouth until the end of time, forever, he’ll get it fuckin’ surgically attached if he has to, sure it’ll be an adjustment at concerts but the fans will get used to it. He tries to say all this in a helpless gesture, a moan, but then Seokjin takes him in his mouth, deep just for a second before he draws back, keeps the head resting on his tongue, just moving it slightly against the underside. He keeps his eyes fixed on Jungkook as he brings his hands up to Jungkook’s thighs, encourages him to shuffle forward so his ass is barely on the bed. There’s a question in his eyes as he runs a hand up the underside of one thigh and in and up, until the pads of two fingers are pressed just in front of Jungkook’s hole, light pressure, and between the slow undulation of Seokjin’s tongue against the underside of his dick, his hot breath, and the warm rub of his fingers Jungkook feels like he might not be in control of his body anymore, slow electricity spreading up his neck and down his thighs and it’s a slow tremble and a bloom in his stomach and he’s coming, he’s coming down Seokjin’s throat, he can see it in his mouth, that’s his come on Seokjin’s tongue, and Seokjin takes hold of the base of his dick, draws back some more so the final spurts land on his red, red lips, some on his flushed cheeks, until Jungkook is done and gasping.

Seokjin is still looking up at him when he brings his hand to his face, runs his fingers through Jungkook’s come - that’s his come - and places his fingers in his mouth, sucks them wet and clean, and Jungkook can’t do anything but half push, half fall off the edge of the bed and into his lap, shove his hands into Seokjin’s hair and drag his mouth to meet his own, hot and open and hungry. It’s messy and frantic and not enough, Jungkook wants more, he always wants more, pressing himself closer, opening his mouth a little wider, spit on his lips and it’s his and Seokjin’s and fuck, he can taste himself, himself, because he just came in Seokjin’s mouth, that’s him he can taste, and he wants to taste Seokjin, so he pushes his hand down to Seokjin’s crotch where he can feel his dick straining against his jeans and Seokjin follows his hand, covers it with his own, brings his other hand up to Jungkook’s jaw and grasps it firmly, making him whimper. 

Still holding him, Seokjin slows down his lips, his tongue deliberate, deep. Jungkook tries to push for more, once or twice, before bringing his arms up to wind around Seokjin’s neck, as their kisses steady. Soon it’s soft, Jungkook feels wrung out, each gentle press of Seokjin’s lips and tongue making him fall more into him, until Seokjin is just running his hands up and down his back and thighs, touching soft kisses to his neck and jaw, and Jungkook could move, he knows he could, but he just can’t think why he ever, ever would.



After that, it’s like something has snapped in Jungkook, a dam has broken or he’s spilled a 20 kilo bag of rice on the floor and every grain is its own filthy impulse. He wants to grab Seokjin in the morning, when they’re in the bathroom with brushed minty teeth and make out with him pressed up against the sink. He wants to get his mouth on him, anywhere on him, when they’re in an elevator together and their elbows bump.

He holds back, mostly, just keeping it to a lingering hand on Seokjin’s lower back when he shuffles past him, maybe one on his thigh under the blanket when they’re watching something, or a quick inhale of his scent when they hug. And it’s fine, until Seokjin corners him one day in his room, and asks him what the hell’s going on.


“You’re making it weird again.” Seokjin says flatly.

“What do you mean, ‘again’? You were the one who made it weird in the first place!”

Seokjin sniffs, doesn’t reply.

“I’m just… trying to be respectful?” Jungkook tries.

“Well I don’t want you to be respectful, I want you to shove me up against the wall and make out with me!” Seokjin exclaims, then wrinkles his nose, continues, “What even is the point of living with your… your... “


“You, if you can’t even take advantage of it!” Seokjin throws his arms up into the air, exasperated.


“Yeah! Oh! I wanna get off!”

“Right, well- I can, we can- should we?”

“Not right now, it’s ten in the morning and we’ve got a photo shoot.” Seokjin reminds him, not very patiently.

“But later?” Jungkook clarifies.

“Yes, JK, later.” 

And then all bets are off. Jungkook wants to press him up against the sink in the morning? He does it. Jungkook wants to pull him aside in the hallway and steal a kiss? He steals it. Jungkook wants to drop to his knees in a packed elevator and swallow Seokjin’s come? Well, he doesn’t do that, but he does whisper it in his ear as soon as they’re a reasonable distance away from polite society, and Seokjin does tell him how hot it would have been while Jungkook’s got his mouth wrapped around his cock later that evening.

Jungkook feels constantly horny, constantly like there’s a sparkler in his tummy, constantly like he’s carrying a secret, because he is.

If anyone notices any difference in their behaviour they don’t say anything. Yoongi does look at Seokjin oddly sometimes, and Namjoon has commented quietly that he’s glad that Jungkook and Seokjin are ‘back to normal’, at which Jungkook struggles not to burst into giggles. But apart from that, and apart from Taehyung bursting into Jungkook’s room about thirty seconds after Jungkook had put himself back in his pants after Seokjin had jerked him off pressed up against his closet door, he thinks they’re getting away with it.

(He chooses not to think why he needs to get away with it, why it’s something that is to be gotten away with at all.)



It’s a consequence of growing up with people; that they know you. And Jungkook grew up with Seokjin, so it’s only fair that he knows him. It makes sense that spending time with him is easy, (when they aren’t bickering, but Jungkook is big enough to admit that honestly, even then). So he doesn’t overthink it when they start spending a little more time together - it’s nothing major, it’s just maybe Jungkook will think of Seokjin before he thinks of, say, Mingyu, when he wants to go shopping, even though Mingyu has better taste and is generally less demanding. Or maybe he won’t text Yugyeom when he wants to go bowling, he’ll text Seokjin instead, even though he and Yugyeom have literally been bowling together for years and it’s kind of their thing. It’s no big deal, and Jungkook doesn’t think about it, until a text from his brother makes him realise that there’s a chance he’s been a bit of an asshole.

Hey dude! Haven’t heard from you in a while, see you on tv tho! Lookin good :) Miss u bro x

Jungkook cringes, guilt creeping up his spine, as he flicks back miss u too! Been busy, sorry - can i call u tomorrow? Love u x and reopens the webtoon he’d been paying not much attention to. 

He mulls it over for a bit, opens Kakaotalk back up, flicks a message to the group chat, to Yugyeom separately too, suggesting a catch up. He texts a few old friends from home while he’s at it. And then one to Seokjin because when he was texting them he was reminded of something he’d thought Seokjin would laugh at, but that’s it. That’s it, and he goes back again to the webtoon, feeling slightly less shitty.

So it doesn’t make him stop, exactly, but he makes an effort he realises he hadn’t been, and he keeps it up, too. He does catch up with Yugyeom, and even takes a selfie with the group chat backstage at Musicbank when they catch up for a few minutes. In one single fortnight he calls his brother, then his parents, goes shopping with Mingyu, has lunch with Hobi, goes on a bike ride with Namjoon, watches a movie with Taehyung and Jimin to make up for ditching last time, goes for lamb skewers with Yoongi like they hadn’t done in months, and he feels good, not like he’s missing anything at all. He and Seokjin still… do what they do, but it’s not as all consuming as it had been, and Jungkook is fine with that, he thinks. It’s not like he’s texting Seokjin less or anything, he just might take two minutes to reply rather than the usual two seconds, which was a bit eager anyway, Jungkook rationalises. He’s fine with it, and he even has a moment where he realises that actually, was he the one who kept on initiating… stuff? Hanging out or otherwise? And there’s a lurking insecurity, one that he’d thought he’d gotten rid of mostly, of being a pain, being needy, a bit young and a bit too much.

Until on a Sunday afternoon, he’s surprised by a knock at his door and Seokjin poking his head in, asking if he wants to go get food. Jungkook tries to dampen down the wriggle of excitement in his stomach, and nods. Yes, yes he would.

They end up going back to the place they’d gone to nearly two and a half months ago, when Jungkook had made that joke, about Byung-wook and Seokjin. There’s a moment of weirdness, when Jungkook is staring across the table at Seokjin, who’s staring at the menu, and he thinks back to the last time he’d been there. How he’d had no idea what Seokjin’s face looked like when he came, had no idea what he tasted like, and he has to shake his head to get rid of the thought. The first rule of Lunch Club is No Boners at the Table.

“So, what do you want to order?” Seokjin asks Jungkook, who can’t help but stare at him like an alien’s crawled into his brain and has taken control.

“Why do you want to know?” Jungkook asks, suspicious.

“Can’t I take an interest?” Seokjin huffs.

“No,” Jungkook says simply, sipping at his drink.


Jungkook shrugs, swallows, “Fine.”

Seokjin leans back in his chair, “I’m - I’m being ‘nice’. I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while,  just wanted to… check in, or whatever.”

This kind of emotional honesty has Jungkook even more sure something’s gone horribly wrong. It might not be an alien but whatever it is, it’s fucked up.

“What’s going on?” Jungkook leans forward, hisses over the table. “What have they got on you?”

Seokjin’s eyes widen, “What? Nothing?! That’s it, I swear!”

Jungkook eyes him carefully, “You sure?”


“Okay.” Jungkook nods. He’s not one to argue. “In that case… I’m good.”

“That’s it?”

“Yup," Jungkook confirms, popping the ‘P’.

Seokjin stares blankly ahead, “So there’s no reason you’ve been... “

Jungkook doesn’t know what he’s talking about, so he just says, “Nah.”

“Right.” Seokjin nods slowly to himself, exhales, then picks up the menu and says, “I think I’ll have the number 7, and the 9. And the 34 - do you like the 34? I’ll get two of them.”

He calls over the waitress, doesn’t ask any more wildly out of character questions and everything’s okay again.

Lunch is good, because the restaurant is good. It’s nice, too, catching up with Seokjin when he’s not tempted to latch onto his face and/or penis and never let go again. Well, he’s tempted, but he can’t in public, so that decision is made for him and honestly, it’s almost freeing. Does he want to reach across the table and wipe that bit of sauce from Seokjin’s bottom lip, suck it into his mouth? Sure! Does he? Almost! But he doesn’t, and that’s what matters.

Instead, they talk about… everything, really. Jungkook tells him about how he’d been making more of an effort with his friends and family, reaching out and doing things, and something clears on Seokjin’s face as he smiles and laughs and teases. Seokjin fills him in on the song he’s been working on, hasn’t yet revealed - it’s personal, a touch too personal at times, Seokjin admits with a wince, but it’s exciting.

And it’s not like they haven’t been talking, but Jungkook can admit that recently they’d done more of the other stuff, the stuff that keeps Jungkook up at night, physically and.... Physically. So it’s nice to have that part of Seokjin back, he thinks, smiling down at his noodles. Really, really nice.

They settle the bill after lingering a bit, having a few bottles of soju and getting a little tipsy. Possibly a little touchy too, but every time Jungkook can feel himself going to do something extraordinarily stupid he’s caught by a look in Seokjin’s eyes and stops himself.  

They get a car back home, and the drive leaves Jungkook jittery and practically sitting on his hands. Walking in the front door, there’s a chorus of demands that greet them from the lounge, asking for an explanation, where their food is, why they didn’t answer their texts and bring more soju home.

“There’s plenty in the cupboard!” Seokjin hollers from the hallway, jerks his head in the direction of the lounge at Jungkook, asking a silent question. There’s a huge part of Jungkook that wants to shake his head in return, drag Seokjin to his room, push him up against the wall and suck his life out through his dick, but another part that has him looking at Seokjin, really looking. Taking in his hair, messy from where he kept on running his hand through it like he always did after four shots of soju, his lips, a little puffy from the spice in their meal, the bags under his eyes, and Jungkook thinks to himself that actually, he’d like nothing more than just sitting next to him on the couch, with their friends (their family), and probably falling the fuck to sleep.

So he grabs Seokjin by the hand, pulls him in for a quick, silent kiss, just because he can and a bit because he really, really wants to, spins him round and pushes him into the lounge to be greeted by a few cheers and a couple more complaints. 

Yoongi, Taehyung and Namjoon are on one couch, Hoseok on another and Jimin on the third, so Jungkook goes to sit next to Jimin and Seokjin to Hoseok. It doesn’t last, Taehyung remembers something he hadn’t told Bogum so he starts texting him, until the buzzing annoys Yoongi who orders him to go and sit on a different couch, so he squeezes in next to Hoseok, who complains that his neck hurts too badly to be squished on a couch, so Jimin offers to massage it for him, so Hoseok pulls a pleading face at Jungkook to switch places with him, which he does, and then Taehyung promises that he’ll put his phone away, it’s too cramped on the couch with Seokjin and Jungkook, all shoulders and protein shakes, please Yoongi, can’t he come back over there? Yoongi lasts about four seconds before caving, lifting up the blanket and gesturing Taehyung over.

Jungkook bites down a grin as he settles in against Seokjin’s shoulder, complaining loudly that clearly his hyungs don’t care for him, leaving him with such a terrible human pillow. Jimin throws his seaweed crackers at him, which Jungkook gladly eats, and Namjoon orders them all to be quiet and watch the movie or he’ll start it again and then they’ll be late to bed, like it’s some grand threat.

And it feels familiar, so familiar, settling in and curling up, covering themselves with blankets and trading snacks. But then he crooks his head up to see better, brushes against Seokjin as he readjusts. Seokjin, who looks down at him with something on his face, coated in the shifting TV light, that Jungkook doesn’t think he’s seen before. And all of a sudden it feels really, really different.



It’s easy enough to brush aside, the idea that something has changed between them. Jungkook thinks he’s doing a great job at it. They’re busy, not much time to do anything other than a quick handjob in the shower to keep the mess to a minimum, or a feverish make-out when no one’s around. Sometimes he sneaks into Seokjin’s room at night, but it’s getting harder and harder to drag himself away when they’re done, too easy to fall asleep in his bed and wake up and want to do it all over again - and possibly get caught, which is the problem, not how much Jungkook likes waking up to Seokjin’s face, slack in the morning light.

So he’s not doing anything stupid, not like before, not getting in probably a little too deep and forgetting that other stuff and other people exist, like a teenager. But he’s not withdrawing, because there’s nothing to withdraw from. He likes Seokjin, and Seokjin likes him, and they’re both attractive, if you’re into that kind of thing, which they (very luckily) are, but it’s not anything other than what it is. Which is something that was about being helpful and is now about being very helpful. Accommodating. Handy, if you will.

And he doesn’t want it to be anything other than what it is, which is important, Jungkook thinks. If anything it’s transactional - they’re a couple of sexy ATMs, making sexy withdrawls (or sexy deposits, his brain leers).

So it’s not like when they slow down, as they eventually do, that Jungkook is thinking about anything other than how good it’s gonna be to finally get some time to fuck around, have an orgasm that’s satisfying for more than five minutes.

And it’s not that Jungkook has been thinking about Seokjin fucking him, specifically, but perhaps he’d been spending some extra time in the shower recently. And if recently included that morning, that wasn’t anyone’s business apart from his and his showerhead’s, and the crick he’d given himself in his neck from twisting round to get a good look at what was going on down there before remembering the mirror he’d left in the bathroom cupboard, which, while not designed for this exact purpose, worked a treat.

So when he’s on top of Seokjin that night, finally taking his time, feeling him getting hard underneath him, it seems like now’s as good a time as any.

So Jungkook sits up and rocks his hips a little, a suggestion, and goes, “D’ya wanna?”

Seokjin, following him up to chase his mouth, opens his eyes and looks up at him, confused.

‘“Wanna what?”

“Like....” Jungkook rolls his eyes, “Do me. Do me do me. Like...”

“Like fuck you?”

“ the butt, yeah.”

Seokjin blinks. “Well, when you put it like that-”

Jungkook scowls.

“Absolutely.” Seokjin sits up, wrapping his arms around Jungkook’s waist to keep him secure to his hips as he flips them round, and all of a sudden Jungkook’s on his back, looking up at him.

It’s a lot.

Jungkook takes him in for a minute, his eyes, lips, the way his hair falls around his ears, and asks, wide-eyed and a little challenging, “So?”

Seokjin drops down, presses his lips up against Jungkook’s throat, kisses him all wet and ticklish.

“Hyung,” Jungkook laughs, “What are you doing?”

“Taking my time,” Seokjin says against his skin.

“Oh.” Jungkook says.

Seokjin snickers, “do you have a problem with that?”

“No,” Jungkook says, sighing as Seokjin kisses him down, down to his collarbones, pushes his hands up under Jungkook’s t-shirt, grazing his nipples and making Jungkook stifle a moan.

“I like your noises, remember?” Seokjin chastises, soft and resting his chin on Jungkook’s stomach, above where his cock is close to leaking in his pants.

Jungkook covers his face with his hands, embarrassed. “I know,” he whines. “Doesn’t mean I like them.”

Seokjin pouts, presses another kiss to Jungkook’s stomach, dips his tongue into Jungkook’s belly button and getting another laugh in response.

He pushes himself up on his arms, holding himself up over Jungkook’s crotch.

“What’s so fuckin’ funny?” Seokjin demands.

“Nothing! Nothing.” Jungkook holds up his hands, warm with amusement and a truly absurd amount of fondness as he takes in Seokjin’s put-out face. He reaches down a hand to prod a dimple. “Hurry up,” he says, too soft.

Seokjin narrows his eyes, letting himself down slow. “Fine.”

“Know what to do now, hyung?” Jungkook teases, “Here, I’ll help-” and he goes to unbutton his own pants, before Seokjin slaps his hands away, starts unbuttoning them himself. He pulls them down with a sharp flourish that almost drags Jungkook off the bed, refuses to apologise, and then settles between Jungkook’s legs.

The first press of his thumb against Jungkook’s perineum is light, close to tentative, until Jungkook wriggles down, moans encouragingly.

The next one is wet, a little cool against his heat, rubbing until it warms up and Jungkook wants it inside of him, so he says so.

“Put it in me,” he orders, high on a whine. Seokjin ignores him, and Jungkook feels, can’t see when he presses a kiss to the back of his thigh. Jungkook freezes, then relaxes. Seokjin places another kiss, mouth open a little more, on the other thigh.

“Oh,” says Jungkook.

Seokjin huffs a laugh against his skin, Jungkook can feel it. Jungkook can feel everything. The soft bedcover below him, the foam of the pillow under his head, the air on the goosebumps on his arms, hairs standing up on their ends as Seokjin’s warm, wet mouth gets closer to where Jungkook wants it, and apparently where Seokjin wants it too.

When it happens, when Seokjin’s tongue touches him, the air in Jungkook’s lungs escapes with a whoosh, and his stomach tenses, flutters. Seokjin brings his hands round to the top of Jungkook’s inner thighs, one arm circling each leg, holding Jungkook down and where he wants him.

“Yes,” Jungkook breathes, and Seokjin runs his tongue in a steady circle, presses it in just a little, enough to coax out a noise that Jungkook can’t concentrate on enough to be embarrassed about.

“Yes, hyung, that’s - yes.”

Seokjin keeps on going, keeps teasing at his hole with his tongue until Jungkook gasps out, “A finger. I want a finger.”

Seokjin obliges, sucking on a finger and slowly running it around Jungkook’s rim, pushes it in an inch, pulling it back, then pushing it in again, and Jungkook kind of wants to die and kind of wants more, so he does the sensible thing and asks for the latter.

“If you want more I’ll have to get some lube, Jungkookie,” Seokjin says, returning to kissing his inner thighs and staying far too far away from his dick for Jungkook’s health and well-being.

Jungkook throws his forearm over his eyes, “That’s fine! Where is it, get it, just, come on!”

Seokjin crawls up until they’re eye-level, leans down, and kisses him, full and firm and open-mouthed and then a peck on his nose.

“You just kissed me with butthole mouth.” Jungkook says, a little stunned and grotesquely aroused.

“Yeah, your butthole,” Seokjin throws over his shoulder as he leans over to his bedside cabinet to grab his lube. “You should feel honoured.”

Jungkook feels a lot of things, he supposes honoured could be one of them.

Seokjin repositions himself between Jungkook’s legs, throws them over his shoulders and gets to work. 

He’s pressing in two (incredibly thoroughly) lubed-up fingers, crooked and nearly knuckle deep, when Jungkook finally takes a breath, tells him “I’m ready, just fuck me.”

“Yeah?” Seokjin scissors his fingers, barely enough to stretch but more than Jungkook needs if he’s not gonna come without having had Seokjin’s cock inside him, which at this point is non-negotiable.

“Yes, please, fuck,” he gasps.

Seokjin goes to get off the bed, “Lemme get a condom-”

“No, want your come inside me.”

Seokjin stops, swears under his breath. “You’re getting good at that. Telling me what you want,” he says.

Jungkook laughs, breathless, “I’ve been practicing.”

“Okay,” Seokjin looks at Jungkook, and Jungkook flushes. He’s a sight, and he knows it. Likes it. Likes the way Seokjin looks at him, can see his shirt rucked up to show his nipples, bottom half bare but for his socks and cock straining up against his stomach as he waits.

“Okay,” Seokjin repeats, “I got tested a few months ago, and me and Byung-wook - Byung-wook and I, we didn’t. We weren’t. At that time.”

“Oh,” Jungkook says, nods once or twice, before actually clicking and going “Ohh!”

“Yeah, so, if that is something you actually want and you weren’t just, y’know, saying it, and you’re, y’know. Clean.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows rise, and he hurries a nod, “Yeah, no ones ever…. y’know.”

“Nutted inside you?”

Jungkook chokes on a laugh, “No, you asshole, fucked me. No ones ever fucked me before. With a penis. With fingers, yeah. And I’ve fucked myself with my vibrator. But, yeah. Not with a- with a penis. Condom or otherwise.”

Jungkook bites his lip, and Seokjin’s tongue darts out to wet his lips before he says, “Well then. I’d be delighted.”

Something seizes in Jungkook’s chest as he watches Seokjin take off his pants, then his top, then his socks.

“Take mine off?” Jungkook asks, ignoring whatever it is to stretch out his foot and wriggle it about.

“Nah,” Seokjin says, with a grin and a glint in his eye, “Kinda like you in them.”

He tugs on his dick a couple of times, as he arranges himself on the bed, pushes up Jungkook’s knees and spreads them.

“You sure?” he asks, running his hands up and down the back of Jungkook’s thighs.

Jungkook nods, a sigh in his voice when he says, “Yes.”

He gets the lube, squeezing some out into the palm of his hand and running it up and down his dick, keeping it in his hand as he shuffles up on his knees. It’s warm, slick, wet-feeling when he presses the blunt tip to Jungkook’s hole, rubbing it and making Jungkook giggle through a moan.

“You still sure?” Seokjin asks again.

“Yes,” Jungkook insists, a little frustrated but more amused as he tries to rock upwards, “Stick your goddamn dick in me already.”

And Seokjin does, and it feels - weird, then good, then weird again, and then Seokjin stops moving and Jungkook lies there, attempting to catch his breath.

“How’re you doing?” Seokjin asks, voice a little tight but conversational.

“Move.” Jungkook orders, something sparkling in his stomach as he rolls his hips up.

“Aye-aye,” Seokjin says, and pulls out a little, pushes back in. He does it again, but more, and more, and more, until he’s pulling all the way out and slowly driving back in and Jungkook’s letting out something between a whine and a wheeze every time he grazes his prostate.

“Fuck, hyung, you feel so good.”


Jungkook nods, or flails, or shudders, he’s not sure. He does feel good, Seokjin feels so good, dick thick inside him, the dull stretch of his rim every time Seokjin adjusts the angle, sees what noises he can wring out of him. Every so often Jungkook remembers to flex his internal muscles, get one out of Seokjin that he can lay claim to, say I did that, that’s my noise. It’s a little too gratifying, if he’s entirely honest, so he chooses not to be.

He’s not sure when, but at some point it becomes vital that Jungkook’s hips speed up, fuck back up to Seokjin, increase the pace, the slide and the friction and the noise the Seokjin’s thighs make when they hit the curve of Jungkook’s ass, and Seokjin notices, asks him or tells him, “I’m gonna move you now, wanna stay inside you,” and Seokjin holds on to him and rolls him over, slow and careful and buried deep in Jungkook the whole time. 

When Jungkook opens his eyes, he’s on top of Seokjin on his bed, just like before, but nothing like before. This time his hands aren’t on Seokjin’s cock, Seokjin’s cock is inside him. This time he’s not trying to keep his hardness away from Seokjin’s thigh, instead Seokjin’s hands are running up and down his thighs as he grinds down, leaning back on his hands and whimpering with every rock. This time Seokjin’s talking to him, and Jungkook can barely hear him, starting to bounce up and down, cock slapping against his stomach and making him clench around Seokjin every time.

Seokjin’s head is thrown back, a sheen on his neck that Jungkook has to taste, leaning forward and pressing his lips and tongue to Seokjin’s skin, his Adam’s apple. Seokjin gasps up into him. Whether it’s his lips or the change in angle, Jungkook doesn’t know, but it makes Seokjin hit his prostate so good that it nearly makes his eyes roll back in his head, so he says, “Again.”

Seokjin mustn’t hear him, so he says it louder, and firmer, “Again, fuckin’ do it again, felt so good hyung, please.”

Seokjin grabs his hips, fingers pressing into the softness he finds, just enough to know he’s there, and thrusts up again, jagged and close to enough. Jungkook raises himself up on his thighs, barely notices them trembling. Pressing down on Seokjin’s chest, he says, “Come on hyung, fuck me, please,” asks Seokjin to chase it. Seokjin rocks up and pulls Jungkook down against him, hitting it just right, making Jungkook just about bite clean through his lip, cover his mouth with his hand to mask a too-loud moan that he can’t keep in.

Jungkook falls forward, Seokjin’s arms dropping from his hips to his ass, gripping his cheeks and spreading him wide. The stretch is obscene, the noise of Seokjin fucking into him even more so, and Jungkook’s dick is pressed between them, grazing his stomach with every thrust up. Seokjin nuzzles the side of his head, hands too busy to arrange Jungkook how he likes him, pressing kisses along Jungkook’s jaw until Jungkook finally gets the goddamn hint and kisses him on the mouth, pants into it, hot and damp.

Seokjin slows down the pace, increases the pressure, making Jungkook moan long and loud against his mouth, biting Seokjin’s lip. Seokjin kisses him, opens his mouth to say against Jungkook’s, “Want me to make you come? Just with my dick inside you? Or do you want my hand on your cock?”

Jungkook whines, nods, doesn’t care.

“Which one is it, baby, what do you want, you just gotta tell me, OK?”

Jungkook fucks back onto him, “Just you, hyung, just want you inside me, just come inside me, yeah? Come inside me, hyung.”

“Fuck,” Seokjin pants, holding Jungkook tight on him and grinding up, circling his hips and chasing his lips to tell him, “I’m so close, Jungkookie, you feel so good, so hot, so tight, are you gonna-”

“Yeah, I’m so close, I’m so close, just there, just there, fuck, hyung, I’m gonna-”

When he comes, clenched around Seokjin’s cock, painting the sweaty skin between them and Seokjin jerking and spilling inside him where he can feel it, hot and thick and un-fucking-believable, he thinks, then says, “Fuck, hyung.”

And when he wakes up at five am, still in Seokjin’s bed, too-warm and just right under Seokjin’s arm, he thinks, but keeps to himself, “Fuck, hyung. Fuck.”



If Jungkook feels a little more on edge after Seokjin fucked him so thoroughly he should be more relaxed than ever, it’s not a thing he thinks about or lets consume his every waking hour. And if he makes sure that he doesn’t fall asleep in Seokjin’s bed again, that’s not a big deal - he prefers his own laundry detergent anyway, and the mattress suits him better.

When neither of them mention fucking again, and they’re both a little quicker to separate after they’ve come from hands and mouths, it doesn’t bother Jungkook at all. Because what they have, he reminds himself, is transactional. Fun. Light. Sexy ATM’s.

(And sexy ATM’s don’t miss things, Jungkook thinks, or want things. They don’t care if someone comes along to make a withdrawal, don’t care why they do it, don’t care that maybe it’s someone’s birthday and they’re getting money out to put in a card, or that they’re chipping in to a social club at work, or that they’re pretty much useless now, because who the hell uses cash anymore anyway. 

They don’t care when someone walks by them, maybe someone who used to use them regularly, maybe this ATM used to almost expect the person to stop by, get a bit of cash out, just to keep them going for the day. They don’t care when they don’t, when they barely look at them, definitely not to smile or say “Hey, ATM, long time no blowjob, wanna catch up soon?”

And they definitely don’t give a single fuck when the person who’d been making deposits and withdrawals in a regular fashion makes a different deposit that left the ATM possibly feeling a little vulnerable because this particular deposit was slightly groundbreaking, even though the ATM knows that various deposits aren’t inherently more valuable than others and this particular deposit didn’t necessarily mean anything, and maybe the ATM just needed a minute to collect themselves after mentally panicking about maybe assigning a little too much value to this particular deposit and have the person be the fuckin’ grown up that they are and not just go fuckin’ silent-

Sexy ATM’s don’t care, because they’re sexy, and sexiness isn’t about caring, and they’re ATM’s, who are incapable of caring, because they’re goddamn machines. That’s two good reasons to not care, Jungkook thinks to himself.)  

They’re all sitting around the breakfast table, the morning after a particularly wordless orgasm where Jungkook had gotten himself off against Seokjin’s thigh, felt Seokjin shudder through his own with his hand down his pants, Jungkook playing no part in it. They’ve barely looked at each other, and Jungkook is -

Jungkook is going through the schedule they’d received for an upcoming festival, is what he’s doing, and nothing else, when Jimin spots a familiar name on the list of performers and lets out the verbal equivalent of an eyebrow wiggle in his direction.

“Jungkookie,” he sing-songs, “your girlfriend’s gonna be there! You should ask her out this time, instead of just staring at her from across the room and liking all her group’s tweets, maybe?”

Three months ago, Jungkook would have blushed, tensed up and prayed for something heavy to fall from the sky and not necessarily kill him, but definitely knock him out for a couple of days at least.

Now, Jungkook does the exact same thing but for an entirely different reason.

Namjoon asks Jimin who it is, and his eyes widen and he must be saying something encouraging and teasing in equal measure, Jungkook is sure of it, but he can’t hear it. All he can do is look at Seokjin who, for some unknown reason, has frozen in his chair. Yoongi looks between them, something akin to realisation and possibly closer to horror dawning across his face.

Yoongi clears his throat, and loudly asks for the chili flakes.

Seokjin lurches to his feet, scraping his chair back and apologising for the noise. Then he mumbles something about a sore stomach and walks out.

Taehyung widens his eyes, opens his mouth and Jungkook hears the word diarrhea but nothing else as he stands up and wordlessly chases after Seokjin. His door is just about to close before Jungkook shoves his fingers around the jamb to stop it. This doesn’t do anything apart from make him wish he was never born as pain shoots from his fingers right up his arm, the door bouncing off his knuckles and Seokjin whirling around at Jungkook’s pained yelp.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, shit,” Jungkook shakes out his hand, “Fine, just stupid.”

Seokjin looks at him, worry receding and something shutting off.

“Did you need something?” Seokjin’s voice is flat, and Jungkook feels sick.

“Um, no, I just. Are we all good?”

“Yeah,” Seokjin scrunches up his face, like Jungkook’s being stupid, which he probably is, probably has been for a while.

“Oh, okay.” Jungkook nods, starts to back away. “Cool, just checking. It’s just-”

“Just what.” Seokjin snaps.

Jungkook gulps, “Just that, uh, y’know, I feel like things might have been a little, uh, different? Lately? And then just before, with what Jimin said-”

“I don’t care what Jimin said,” Seokjin dismisses.

“Oh, okay,” Jungkook feels like he’s repeating himself, isn’t sure where to go from here but he doesn’t need to because Seokjin interrupts, says, “I’m just not feeling well.”

“Oh, okay,” Jungkook says, again, because what else is he meant to do. Shoot Seokjin a thumbs up? Maybe, so he does.

He steps backwards again, mumbles, “That’s cool then, I’ll just, like, go eat breakfast. You don’t want anything? No, you’re sick, right, sorry, cool, no worries. No problems. Just… cool.”

He’s almost at the door when he sees Seokjin’s hand twitch, and for some reason it’s enough to make him stop in his tracks, shoots something through him that makes him stand up a bit straighter, push the door closed behind him and say, “Y’know what? No.”

Seokjin barely moves, “What do you mean, no?”

“I mean, no, I’m not doing this. I’m not doing us not talking. I can’t do us not talking. I can do a lot of things, but not that.”

Seokjin purses his lips, says nothing, so Jungkook takes a deep breath and possibly fucks up everything irreversibly. Eyeing Seokjin, he asks, “What are we? What are we doing?”

“Nothing.” Seokjin answers quickly. “Nothing important.”

“Well then, why did you react like that when Jimin was teasing me?”

“I told you, I’m sick, it’s got nothing to do with-”

“Hyung, you’re a good actor, and that was literally the worst performance you’ve ever given.”

“I-” Seokjin cuts himself off, looks like he might be swallowing his tongue.

Jungkook was wrong, now he’s going to fuck everything up irreversibly. Except part of him thinks that this might be the worst it could get.

“Hyung I-” This is it this is it this is it

“Jungkook, don’t,” Seokjin brings his hands up to his stomach, holding something in or himself up.

Jungkook laughs, a little wild, “I gotta! I gotta, hyung-”

“I know we should stop, but please, let me keep this.”

“Keep what?”

Seokjin doesn’t reply.

“What, hyung?”

“Us, this.”

Jungkook stops, a little stunned. “But - we don’t even have anything right now - was what happened last night something? Because it doesn’t feel like anything, not close to what it did.”

“I’ll take it.” Seokjin says, simply.

Jungkook takes him in, his lips soft and forehead gently wrinkled, and doesn’t understand. “I don’t understand,” he says.

“I don’t know what there is to understand,” Seokjin bites out, a little vicious, “I’m saying I’ll take it.”

“But, take what, hyung?” Jungkook asks.

Seokjin’s jaw tenses.

“Take what?” Jungkook repeats, horribly confused, “What would you possibly want to take, I’ll give you whatever it is you want, you don’t have to - to take anything.”

Seokjin looks like - like he did that day in the elevator, like he did when this all started, terrible and unsure, like Jungkook could push him over with his little finger.

“I know,” he starts quiet, “I know you’d do whatever you could, to help.”

“OK,” Jungkook says, even though it isn’t, not really.

“And,” Seokjin continues, “I don’t want to… stop you finding something real to you.”

To that, Jungkook can’t say anything.

“When we slept together, and I mean actually slept together, after we… ‘slept’ together-“

“I get it, hyung.”

“When I woke up in the morning and you were still there…”

“That’s happened before.” Jungkook says, exasperated.

“I know that!” Seokjin snaps. “I’m not saying it makes sense, none of this has ever made any fucking sense!”

He takes a breath, runs his hand through his hair.

“I panicked. It felt… like something that it shouldn’t.”

Now Jungkook really does feel sick. “What do you mean, shouldn’t?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t!”

“It doesn’t even matter,” Seokjin stops, picks his next words out like they do. “Because I’m telling you that I’ll be more careful. I won’t react like I just did. That was…  embarrassing. I’m saying if you want to carry on with what we’re doing, I’ll take it. Even if we shouldn’t.”

Jungkook is used to Seokjin trying to keep him on his toes, but this is ridiculous. It’s like Seokjin is talking in circles around him when it all seems so simple to Jungkook.

“Why shouldn’t we?”

Seokjin laughs, something close to hysterical. “Jungkook, give me one single reason why we should be doing this.”

That hits like a punch in the stomach. Jungkook steps forward, anger fresh in his chest, “Because I like it, I like us, and I want to, I want you, how do you not know that?!”

Seokjin looks at him, stunned. “What?”

“Do you normally go round getting people off if you don’t like them, hyung? Because that’s fucking weird. I like you, I like doing this, what is the goddamn problem?”

Seokjin’s eyes are wide, as he blurts out, “You, now.”

Jungkook steps back, spits out, “Just so we’re clear, I want to physically fight you right now, you dick.

“No!” Seokjin reaches out his hands, his face wide open in panic, “No, you don’t understand, I didn’t mean it like that, I just - I can do this if it’s just me, if it’s just me that wants it, but I can’t-” Seokjin stops, something tight in his throat.

“Can’t what?” Jungkook urges.

“We can’t do this if it’s you too, if it’s the two of us, because then it matters and if we fuck it up, there are consequences.”

Jungkook just stands there, Seokjin’s words rolling over him.

Seokjin shakes his head, restarts, “If it’s just me then I can get over it, or move past it, or find someone else, and it’ll just hurt for a bit-”

Jungkook interrupts him, incredulous, “Are you fucking kidding me? First of all, what the hell do you mean, ‘you too’?”

Seokjin looks at him, tired. “You know what I mean.”

Jungkook can’t decide between slapping him in the face or stomping his foot. “You keep on saying that, and I’m telling you I don’t!”

Seokjin goes to reply but Jungkook doesn’t let him, “And second of all, you don’t think I’m already there? You don’t think this is gonna hurt me, now? This is hurting me now? How is us stopping now any better than-”

“Because I don’t love you yet.”

And everything stops. Jungkook feels frozen, standing across from Seokjin who is saying these words that he can’t process, looking at him with a face that Jungkook has only seen once or twice before. But down deep in the pit that’s opened up in his stomach, something’s tugging, asking him to take a minute, think before he replies. So he does. He stands there, and thinks, and says, “Yet means you will. Yet means it’ll happen.”

Seokjin looks at him, helpless.

Jungkook takes a breath, feels it inside him, something blooming. “That’s what yet means, right, hyung? Yet means inevitable, doesn’t it.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes, unable to resist even now, “I don’t know about inevitable.”

Jungkook grins, “Yet means you might already, hyung. What if it’s too late, what if it’s…” he widens his eyes in mock fear, “already started.”

“I assure you-” Seokjin starts, loudly.

“Oh, you assure me, do you?” Jungkook mimics, wobbling his head a little side to side, grin still on his face and possibly taking up permanent residence.

“If we fuck this up…” Seokjin says, quiet and searching.

Jungkook reins in his face, turning over the idea in his head. “We already have, hyung,” he replies, just as quiet and achingly true. “I’m fucked up about it. You think the past, what, three months has been business as usual?”

“Don’t be a dick.”

“I’m not!” Jungkook protests, before biting his bottom lip and saying, softer, “For once I’m not. This is happening now, hyung. It’s already happening. You’re being a dick for thinking that this is any better than actually fuckin’ trying, when it’s too late. I want to try. I want you to want to try. We’ve already fucked it. You think you’ll be able to ignore it? You’ll take a few days, a few weeks and all of a sudden not want…” Jungkook gestures between them, “This? That’s - that sucks, that really, really sucks, but also, I’m calling bullshit.”

Seokjin’s eyes are wide, a little shiny in his frustratingly perfect face, and Jungkook wants to touch him.

“What if I-“

Jungkook doesn’t care what he’s trying to say. “You won’t.”

“I might.”

“If you do, I’ll fix it.”

Something approximate to a smile starts at the corner of Seokjin’s  eyes, and Jungkook wants to soak it up through osmosis. Or photosynthesis. One of the two.

“You’re awfully sure of yourself.”

“Always am, hyung.”

For a long moment, one that Jungkook thinks he could write a song in, Seokjin keeps on looking at him. And then he says:

“You’re right.”

Jungkook startles, “What?”

A shy smile spreads across Seokjin’s face, his dimples showing. “You’re right.”

“I am?”

Seokjin laughs, no, giggles, “Yeah.”

Jungkook thinks for a second. “Yeah. Yeah I am. Wait, what about, specifically?”

“About how I’m full of shit.”

“Well, hang on a-”

Seokjin overrides him, “About how stopping this now is a stupid idea when we’re already being stupid and why not, like, lean in to the stupidity and see if we get something good out of it.”

“Right,” Jungkook nods, feeling like his throat is swelling but in a really, really great way, where a smile bursts out of it and lands on his face.

Seokjin just stands there, and looks at him. Jungkook stands there, looking back.

“So, we’re doing this then?” Jungkook checks.

“I guess so.” Seokjin nods.

“No more sneaking around?”

“No more sneaking around.”

Jungkook clenches and unclenches his fists, nervous energy settling into something sure and certain.

Seokjin is obviously not quite on the same wavelength, as he keeps on talking, “I mean honestly I don’t think any of them will care. Namjoon’ll probably be delighted, Jimin will take it as a threat to his and Taehyung’s Most In-Sync Best Buds title, which we have really gotta have a conversation about-“

“Hoseok’s gonna tell us we’re being stupid.” Jungkook interjects.

“Oh, Hoseok’s definitely gonna tell us we’re being stupid. And then probably start crying because he loves love.”

Jungkook decides not to point out that Seokjin just used the L word, and stands there smiling until Seokjin stops listing off the places Yoongi’s going to passive-aggressively leave condoms and looks back at him, asks Jungkook a simple question.

“So, what now?”

Jungkook steps forward and places a hand on his neck to draw him in for a kiss, because he can, because he wants to. Says with a stupid smile, just before their lips meet, “I dunno, hyung.”

(Seokjin whacks him in the stomach approximately three seconds later, but keeps on kissing him - which Jungkook thinks is the most important thing.)



Jungkook thinks he might’ve always loved Seokjin. Not in the same way, of course, and this thinking (or knowing, if he’s feeling particularly self-assured) itself is a new thing, a young thing, a delicate thing. But it’s there, in moments when Seokjin surprises himself with a laugh, offers to cook and complains about being taken for granted in the same breath, is the first thing Jungkook sees when he opens his eyes in the morning. It’s there, and Jungkook doesn’t quite know (but he thinks) that it’s there to stay.