Yoongi hates water. He’s never liked swimming or the sensation of being wet. So he isn’t exactly sure what possessed him to sit in a car for two hours to go to Taehyung’s grandparent’s lakehouse for a day of, in Hoseok’s words, intense watery fun .
“Don’t forget to grab the snackies,” Hoseok reminds them, as he puts the car in park.
“Got ‘em!” Jimin replies, chipper. Yoongi has never met Taehyung, technically he is just here as Hoseok’s plus one. Which would be awkward, should be awkward, but Hoseok doesn’t really know the meaning of the word.
Yoongi opens his door (he had claimed the back row of seats, Hoseok had driven and Jimin sat shotgun. Yoongi napped the whole way here) and steps out, immediately uncomfortable with how his feet sink into the sand. They aren’t near an ocean. There shouldn’t be sand.
They haven’t even reached the door yet before there is a chorus of high-pitched screams. Two figures, almost too fast to clearly discern, bound out of the lakehouse towards them.
“Jiminie!” One screeches.
“Hoseokie!” hollers the other.
The darker blur crashes into Hoseok, nearly knocking him over in the process. The second, lighter-colored blur looks like they were going to try the same thing on Jimin, but Jimin yells at them before they have the chance.
“Don’t you dare! I’ll drop the food! And the booze!”
The lighter blur becomes less of a blur once he stops, smiling largely and flipping sandy hair out of his eyes.
“Let me help you,” he says towards Jimin, before turning to Yoongi and saying, “Nice to meet you! I’m Taehyung— thanks for coming!” Jimin lets Taehyung take a sleeve of grocery bags off of one arm and follows Taehyung into the house, already starting a conversation. Yoongi looks awkwardly to Hoseok, who is talking to the darker blur (who is also no longer really a blur). Now that he’s stationary, Yoongi can see the dark t-shirt and swim trunks, the brown hair that promises to get wet later.
“Ah,” Hoseok says naturally, opening his stance to put an arm on Yoongi’s shoulder. If it had been anyone besides Hoseok, Yoongi would have shoved them off. “This is Yoongi, a good friend of mine. Yoongi, this is Jungkook, I just moved in with him.”
Jungkook’s mouth smooths into a close-lipped smile, pleasant but a little shy. Yoongi smiles back robotically, his brain nothing but three loading dots, stuck.
“Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you from Hoseok.”
Jungkook sounds so formal that, for a second, Yoongi believes he’s going to try and shake his hand or bow or something. Thankfully, Hoseok saves them from their inevitably uncomfortable encounter by grabbing and pulling them under both of his arms, leading them into the lakehouse. Yoongi’s still mulling Jungkook over in his head, wondering how the two even know each other. He’d never heard of a Jungkook. But they were living together?
The house isn’t big or anything, there is only one floor and Yoongi is very glad that this isn’t an overnight thing, because there would definitely have to be some shady bed sharing and Yoongi is not about that. But the decorations are cute. There are amateur paintings covering the walls that he assumes were done by Taehyung as a child. Everything is beach-themed except for a few stand-out party decorations draped on the walls, and a cake sitting on the main table with CONGRATULATIONS, NAMJOON! written in frosting with flame decor all over the sides. What a weird cake. Yoongi doesn’t know who Namjoon is or what he’s being congratulated for. Maybe it’s one of those joke cakes?
“Everyone else is in the back,” Jimin’s voice floats towards them from the kitchen. “I think Seokjin is already going on the grill!”
“Ah, yes!” Jungkook exclaims excitedly, escaping from Hoseok’s affectionate hold and scampering out the back door, which is propped open with a brick. Oldies play faintly from a radio outside, he knows it but he can’t place the lyrics. Hoseok watches Jungkook go with a faint smile.
“I didn’t know you got a new roommate,” Yoongi says quietly. Hoseok’s smile dims, like a secret he’s been keeping has finally been found out.
“It was recent,” he replies. “Sorry that I didn’t tell you.”
“No need to apologize,” Yoongi brushes it off, both the comment and Hoseok’s arm around his shoulder. “None of my business anymore.”
Hoseok’s mouth flips into a frown. “Hey, don’t be like that.”
“I’m not being like anything, Hoseok,” Yoongi replies, trailing out the back door.
The air feels surprisingly nice for lake air, better than he’s expecting it to feel. The sand is everywhere but at least it’s not scorching hot. A tall, lean man is commanding the grill with ease, animatedly chatting with Jungkook while flipping burgers. He’s wearing a hideous tropical-print shirt and an equally hideous straw hat. Jimin had called him Seokjin, if Yoongi heard right. There’s also another man in a plastic chair, sitting alone down by the shore with his feet in the lake water. Yoongi’s eyes travel from his feet to his legs which are tan and impossibly long. The man has a beer in one hand. He looks like the type of person who would be on the cover of self-help pamphlets, or maybe a book about travel. Either one works, for some reason. From his angle, Yoongi can’t see his face well, but with a figure like that it’s impossible for the man to not be handsome.
“Who wants a beer?” Taehyung asks. Yoongi moves out of his way and almost takes one, but Jungkook interrupts before he can request one.
“Hey, no drinks yet,” He reminds them. “We still have to go out on the boat.”
“Oh!” Taehyung replies instantly, his mouth puckering into a perfect little ‘o’ shape. “I completely forgot about the boat!” He turns to Yoongi and smiles largely. “Did Hoseok tell you we’re tubing?!”
Hoseok had not used those exact words, but intense watery fun probably includes tubing somewhere along the line.
“I’m surprised Hoseok is even going with you,” he says. Jungkook laughs and nods in agreement. Jimin comes out of the house and calls Taehyung’s name to help with something, Yoongi doesn’t turn around to look at what. He’s too busy trying to imagine Hoseok being dragged on a tube by a boat and enjoying it. It’s very hard.
“Oh, he’s not tubing,” Jungkook assures him, smiling like he’s trying to imagine the exact same thing and finds it hilarious. Yoongi kind of wants to hate him, but can’t. “He’s driving the boat. I don’t think I could get him on the tube for a million dollars.”
Yoongi smiles, but a little part of him shrivels inwards. Stop talking about Hoseok like you know him better than me.
“You couldn’t get him on there for two million either,” he says back, maybe just to be petty. But Jungkook beams in agreement. It lights his face up all bright and sparkly just like Hoseok’s does. It’s weird, how many similarities he could probably find in between the two. And he’s only known Jungkook for a few minutes.
“So how exactly do you and Hoseok know ea — ”
“Burgers are ready!” Seokjin announces with significant zest, diverting Jungkook’s attention immediately back to the grill. Yoongi swears that he can see Jungkook’s ears perk up as the smell of meat hits their noses. Taehyung seems to have materialized out of nowhere and already has his paper plate ready to go. Jungkook quickly follows, playfully shoving Taehyung out of the way to be first in line.
“Hey, hey,” Seokjin mediates, waving his spatula at them. “It’s Namjoon’s party, he gets first dibs on the meat!”
“Namjoon!” Taehyung bellows at the top of his lungs. It startles Seokjin and there’s an awkward shout of surprise down by the lake shore. Ah, so that’s Namjoon. The guy the party is for? Jimin comes from the house and giggles as The Guy The Party Is For jogs up to grab a plate. Jimin is laughing so hard by the time Namjoon reaches them that he has to hold onto Jungkook for balance.
He’s very tall and up close his legs look even longer.
“What are we having?” Namjoon questions, peeking over Seokjin’s shoulder. There’s a newly wet stain on his tank top that Yoongi believes is from spilling his beer in surprise.
“It’s hamburger, weren’t you listening?” Seokjin teases, serving Taehyung two patties.
“Of course he wasn’t,” Jimin answers for Namjoon, still smiling with silent laughter. “He was in Namjoon-space.”
“Namjoon-space isn’t real,” Namjoon grumbles. Yoongi notices that his voice has a unique timbre. It’s deep and full and Yoongi wants to put it in a song, somehow.
“It so is,” Seokjin disagrees. “You were super zoned out.”
“It’s peaceful down there,” Namjoon continues to protest, quieter. Jimin’s smile somehow gets fonder and bigger, neither of which Yoongi thought was possible. Namjoon’s hand goes for a paper plate, accidentally grabbing two instead of one. He looks to Yoongi in a silent offering, pulling them apart. Yoongi accepts the extra with a quiet thanks.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” Namjoon says to him. “I’m Namjoon. My name is on the cake.”
Yoongi thinks that’s a funny way of introducing one’s self. “I’m Yoongi.”
“Who did you come with? I think you’re the only one here I don’t know.” If anyone else had said that, there would have been a shift in the conversation where he would’ve felt awkward as the only stranger at a small party. But the way Namjoon says it doesn’t make Yoongi feel intrusive at all. Namjoon looks at him with genuine interest, with warm, welcoming eyes. Like he’s saying, I don’t know you, but that’s so interesting, and I want to.
“I’m Hoseok’s plus-one,” Yoongi answers bluntly.
Namjoon’s eyebrows raise, he makes some sort of expression that’s too quick to discern before going back to his nice, non-threatening smile. “Cool, cool. Hoseok’s a lot of fun. Are you going on the boat with everyone else?”
Yoongi shakes his head passionately. Namjoon laughs again. His laugh is loud and shakes his shoulders. It’s comfortable.
“Smart guy. Neither am I. Do you want to come sit with me?”
There’s nothing else for him to do, so he shrugs in casual agreement. Besides, it’s nice to feel included. Namjoon’s smile grows wider, poking two little indents into his cheeks. Yoongi pours some salsa and chips onto his plate and accepts one of Seokjin’s burgers before following Namjoon down to the shore. They’re situated about fifteen feet to the left of Taehyung’s dock, where a medium-sized motor boat is tied. Namjoon picks up a folding chair from the ground, brushes all the sand off it and sets it up for Yoongi, staking it down in the sand so strongly that Yoongi doesn’t think a hurricane could knock it over. He gestures to it before plopping back down into his chair, nearly spilling all of his food onto himself. He’s only been around Namjoon for a minute but the man reminds Yoongi of a puppy, stomping around with paws too big for its body and cute face.
“I’m glad you decided not to tube,” Namjoon starts conversationally. As soon as he says it, he kind of realizes how it sounds and looks at Yoongi awkwardly, his eyebrows do this weird twitch thing. Yoongi sits down, balancing his food on his plate with significantly more grace than Namjoon did. “Not that you shouldn’t tube,” Namjoon flounders. “Just, I’m usually the only one who opts out so it’s nice to finally...be with someone while they do that. Y’know?”
“I know.” And he does know. That’s exactly how he feels, all the time.
Yoongi has a pretty selective friend group. He has his work friends, and Jimin, and he has Hoseok. Well, had? Does he still ‘have’ Hoseok? He doesn’t know anymore. He wishes that they were still simple, like how it used to be. When they were just stupid boys who were even stupider friends, and Hoseok was stupidly oblivious to Yoongi’s stupid gay feelings, and they weren’t stupid boyfriends. But that hadn’t happened. And then a lot of other things did happen, and now Yoongi is here. At this stupid party for a stupid, cute guy he doesn’t even know.
He’s glad that Namjoon invited him to sit with him because he isn’t sure he wants to be around Hoseok, specifically now that Jungkook is in the picture; whatever the hell that means. He’s glad he’s here and they’re not. (Is Jungkook Hoseok’s stupid boyfriend now?)
“So…” Namjoon speaks up again, swishing his bare feet around in the lake water. “Hoseok invited you to my little shindig, did he tell you what the whole thing is about?”
“No,” Yoongi answers, realizing he hadn’t even considered there being a reason for the lake party. He just assumed it was a party for the sake of a party. There’s a cake inside, maybe it’s Namjoon’s birthday? But then, would the cake say ‘Congratulations’ if it was a birthday cake? Probably not. “He uh, didn’t mention anything to me.”
Namjoon nods, like he figured so. “It’s to celebrate my graduation.”
“From college?” Namjoon looks a little too old to be in college, but maybe he’s a grad student. Or maybe he took a gap year or two. Namjoon smiles. When he smiles, Yoongi can’t help but notice those two dotted dimples buried in his cheeks. He loves dimples. Shit, the only other person he knows with cute dimples like that is Hoseok.
“No, no,” Namjoon shakes his head. “From the fire academy. I’m gonna be a firefighter.”
Well that explains the fire decor on the cake.
(It also, Yoongi belatedly realizes, explains the unexpectedly fit thighs that peek out of Namjoon’s denim shorts).
A loud yell of glee bursts from behind them, and Yoongi looks away from Namjoon to see Jimin, Seokjin and Taehyung all racing down towards the boat.
“Icallfirstdibs!” Jimin screeches, so fast that it sounds like a single word.
Seokjin reaches the end of the dock first, catapulting himself into the boat and nabbing the life jacket.
“Hey!” Jimin protests, but Seokjin holds the life jacket too high for Jimin’s little hands to reach. However, it’s not too high for Taehyung, and he pulls it out of Seokjin’s clasp with an evil laugh.
“Stop rocking the boat!” comes Hoseok’s voice. He (and Jungkook) are walking down the shore towards the dock at a much slower pace. Well, Hoseok is walking at a slower pace. Jungkook looks like he’s about to run right after them.
“It’s my boat and I’ll rock it if I want to!” Taehyung hollers, but Yoongi notices that his movements are more cautious after Hoseok’s warning.
“Wanna beer?” Namjoon reaches down and grabs a fresh can. He has a recycling bin to throw the crushed ones into next to the two six-packs by his feet. Yoongi nods and takes one, opening it with a loud pop. Namjoon already has his own can nestled in the mesh cup holder in the arm of his chair. He takes a long swig with Yoongi, finishing just as the motor of the boat starts humming with life. Yoongi looks at Namjoon’s neck as he swallows. It’s tan and long and very nice to stare at until his eyes unfocus.
“Woohoo!” someone screams, Yoongi doesn’t know who. There’s a splash, and then a few more seconds before the boat starts moving out with a tuber in tow. It looks like Taehyung. Yoongi has never seen Hoseok operate a boat before, has no idea when or how he learned. He steers the wheel standing up in that power stance that he always seems to default to on instinct. Yoongi takes another long drag of beer.
“So firefighting,” he prompts.
“Firefighting,” Namjoon agrees. He doesn’t look like a firefighter. His arms aren’t bulging with defined muscle (but they’re still as thick as Yoongi’s thighs, he notices that) and Namjoon doesn’t smile or talk or move like Yoongi thinks a fireman would.
“Why’d you want to do that?” he questions, actually curious. He doesn’t think he’s ever met someone who wants to be a firefighter. The motor boat jets out, curving around to a part of the lake that’s out of their view.
Namjoon tips his head back, half-groaning and half-laughing. “The dreaded question,” he quips. “Why did I choose to go to academy? What was my grand motivation?” His foot kicks some lake water around, and Namjoon swallows some more of his can. “It’s not like, actually cool or anything.” His eyes slide over to Yoongi somehow, without actually looking at him. The little radio that sits next to Seokjin’s grill had changed somewhere in their conversation, from old beachy music to a sixties serenade. Yoongi hopes it turns back to cheesy tropical music soon. Sappy music like this is bad for his stupid, bleeding heart.
“You don’t have to answer the question,” He tells Namjoon. “I didn’t know it was something everybody asked you.” The boat comes back into view, just for a second, just long enough for Yoongi to watch Hoseok turn the boat and send Taehyung flying on his tube behind him. His exuberant screams are loud enough to hear from the shore.
“Nah, it’s okay,” Namjoon says, shaking his head benevolently. “It’s just not what people are expecting, I guess. It’s not romantic or cool. It wasn’t my childhood dream, you know?”
Yoongi talks through a mouthful of tortilla chips. “What was?”
Namjoon smiles sheepishly, his teeth glinting in the sun that, Yoongi realizes, is rapidly setting. His dimples reappear. Yoongi wants to poke them so, so bad. “I wanted to be a dad when I was little.”
Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Yoongi’s stupid heart thumps in his chest, spilling out something affectionate before he can shut it off. He doesn’t even know Namjoon, but he already feels like this might be something special. A once in a lifetime encounter. It must be the beer.
“You can,” he replies steadily, an impressive act of self-control.
“Yeah,” Namjoon agrees softly, splashing his feet. “Yeah, maybe. I dunno. But uh, yeah. Firefighting. It wasn’t Plan A. I actually wanted to go to school, you know. Study abroad, get a degree. But I quit my sophomore year because, uh. Depression. Ha-ha.”
His laugh is soulless, just like Yoongi’s is when he jokes about the same thing and God fucking dammit , Yoongi hates that it probably just sealed the deal about what he thinks of Namjoon.
They both take a chug again, almost like it’s scripted. Probably for different reasons, though. He highly doubts that Namjoon is trying to drown a raging heart boner. Yoongi’s can is empty, so he drops it on the ground and smashes it beneath his foot. Namjoon is barefoot, so he doesn’t. Just offers another to Yoongi with an arched eyebrow while ripping a bite off his burger.
“School’s a buncha shit anyway,” he says to Namjoon gruffly, accepting the can. “As a wise woman once said, you don’t need no degree to be a clothing hanger.” The aim was to make Namjoon laugh, so Yoongi is relieved when it works and Namjoon snorts out a surprised giggle. His laugh kind of sounds like a bleating goat. It isn’t what he expected, but he’s glad Namjoon doesn’t have a perfect laugh. It makes him more real. Less likely to be a drunken hallucination. Maybe more attainable.
“Pfft, yeah,” Namjoon sighs, his laughter leading into a smile. “Maybe you’re right.”
They both turn to watch the boat as it passes again, Taehyung in tow and still screaming his head off. The motorboat leaves turbulent waves behind it, and Yoongi can’t stop his eyebrows from jumping up when Taehyung catches air off of one, and lands back on the water with his body barely on the tube. Hoseok is merciless, turning the boat in circles to make the water choppier. Finally, the motorboat turns sharply and Taehyung’s tube flies, tipping over and throwing him off like a mechanical bull. Namjoon winces, and takes another gulp of beer. Taehyung looks so small, bobbing in the water. Someone holds up a neon flag as Hoseok cuts the motor, steering idly towards their fallen friend.
“Is he crying?” Yoongi asks, wondering if the faint sobbing he can hear is in his imagination or not.
“Taehyung’s tears aren’t real,” Namjoon reassures. Which isn’t very reassuring. “He can cry on command and uses it for stupid reasons. You don’t know Taehyung?” Again, Namjoon sounds surprised. Doesn’t he know that Yoongi knows nobody here?
“Only people here that I know are Hoseok ‘n Jimin,” he says. “Never met anyone else here. Don’t even like lakes.” Namjoon blinks his eyes at Yoongi, and geez, his eyes are pretty. They’re very cool and elegant, like a dragon’s or something. Perfect monolids. Yoongi brings his drink up to his mouth.
“Huh,” Namjoon copies Yoongi’s movement, but doesn’t stop tipping his head back until his second (or third? Fourth? He doesn’t know how many beers Namjoon has had) is empty. It lets Yoongi have a very good view of his throat, which he tries not to take advantage of. But it’s very hard, when Namjoon’s adam’s apple is doing things and Yoongi is stupidly aware of it anyway. And starting to get buzzy from the alcohol.
“How many of those have you had?” He questions. Namjoon holds up three fingers as he reaches down for number four. That’s fine, right? Probably. Yoongi doesn’t drink beer often enough to remember. It’s usually cheap grocery store wine, which he drinks from the bottle alone at night and doesn’t tell anyone about. God, that makes him sound so sad, doesn’t it? He won’t tell Namjoon.
So instead of telling him that, Yoongi tosses his two empty beer cans into the recycling bin by Namjoon’s feet. He cares about the environment, how nice is that? Yoongi cares about the environment too. He would so date a guy who saves people for a living and is environmentally-conscious, and who wanted to go to school but ended up doing something completely different, and who has wanted to be a dad since he was a kid. And he has dimples. Fuck, that’s like, his favorite thing. Maybe Yoongi can only like people with dimples. Maybe that’s a rule or something, that God laid down as fine print with his ten commandments. Thou shalt not covet, and Min Yoongi shalt only like men who haveth the cutest dimples on both of thy cheeks.
“So like,” Namjoon says haltingly. “Hoseok invited you.”
Yoongi inhales slowly, leaning his head back. He’s not looking at Namjoon but he knows that the man’s eyes are boring a hole into him. He shrugs. “I mean. Yeah.”
He kind of wants Namjoon to leave it alone, kind of doesn’t. There’s a dark part of him that wants Namjoon to ask about Hoseok, even though it’s kind of the last thing he wants to think about. Maybe he wants Namjoon to pity him. He doesn’t change the subject when Namjoon speaks up again.
“How exactly do you guys know each other?”
There it is. “Ex-boyfriends.”
“Oh. How recent?”
“Mmm. I dunno. Couple of weeks ago?” It was forty-one days ago. Hoseok had come to his door, uncomfortable as hell, and had muttered some shit about figuring out his own feelings. He reiterates this all to Namjoon. “And he was like, I’m sorry Yoongi, we’re just not on the same page anymore, by the way, are you still coming with Jimin and I to the lake party? What the fuck was I supposed to say?”
Namjoon groans loudly, throwing his head back, arms flopping down. “Hoseok is an idiot, ” he says passionately, and wow . It is so nice to hear somebody say that.
“Sometimes,” he agrees. Namjoon opens his can and holds it out to Yoongi, until he clinks his own against it in a very unclassy toast. He isn’t sure what they’re toasting to, and doesn’t think Namjoon knows either. But it still makes them both smile, so he doesn’t find it in himself to care much about it. The sun has set almost completely now, only leaving a thin strip of orange dying on the horizon. The moon is brighter, shining in the sky. Yoongi looks up at it.
“I’m sorry you have to deal with him,” Namjoon grumbles. “He sucks at relationship shit, if you haven’t figured that out. Always has. Taehyung says it’s because he’s an Aquarius and can’t handle emotions. I just think he’s a coward.”
“Doesn’t seem like he was much of a coward with Jungkook,” Yoongi comments softly, pulling his shoes off of his feet with his heels. When they’re off, he wiggles his toes and stares at them before plunging them into the lake water, which is cold and helps him not feel so foggy with alcohol.
“What do you mean?” Namjoon questions. “His roommate?”
“Yeah, I guess they’ve already moved in with each other.” Yoongi kicks some water at where Namjoon’s feet are. Namjoon kicks some back, in a childish way that Yoongi still laughs at, even though he’s supposed to be upset. Namjoon looks so nice in the evening, skin smooth and hair dark and Yoongi just wants to run a hand through it. It looks so soft.
“I don’t think they’re together,” Namjoon tells him unsurely. “I don’t...I mean, I’m pretty sure they’re just living together because Hoseok quit his job and needed somewhere cheaper to live. That’s what he told me over a daiquiri, anyway.”
“Wh….” Hoseok quitting his job is news. Yoongi hadn’t known that. He doesn’t know what to say, and the empty air feels all too telling. Suddenly, Yoongi feels like an asshole. Maybe all that shit about Hoseok taking time to figure himself out was actually true, not just something to cover up for the fact that he’d fallen out of love like Yoongi thought. Why didn’t Hoseok tell him? He could’ve helped. He still cares. “He quit?” And his voice squeaks. He hates his throat for betraying him.
“Yup,” Namjoon confirms. He finishes his burger in one more big bite. Yoongi completely forgot about his plate of food, but he doesn’t have the stomach for it anymore. “Quit around the time he broke up with you, I think? Doesn’t excuse him for being an idiot though. Even if he’s going through something, he should still dump you with, you know. Class. And not drag you along to a stranger’s party when you’re clearly still healing.”
“Admit it, you’re grateful I’m here,” Yoongi jokes dryly, feeling Namjoon’s heavy sympathy settle on his shoulders and his chest. He isn‘t sure if he finds the feeling comforting or suffocating. It possibly may be both. “Who else were you going to sit here and mope with?”
“Never said I wasn’t glad you were here,” Namjoon protests. His bottom lip sticks out, kind of pouty.
The putt putt putt of the boat comes back to Yoongi’s ears, the motor steady. They’re coming back to the dock, completely tubed-out with another boy being dragged behind them that Yoongi can’t see in the quickly dimming evening light. Maybe there are two, cramped together on the float that’s too small for them. Yoongi doesn’t know how long they were out or what time it is. He’d completely forgotten about them out there, had stopped paying attention when Namjoon became more interesting.
They lapse into silence when the chatter of the other boys climbing back onto land overlaps them, exhilarated from the sport.
“I wish I went for longer,” Jimin is complaining loudly.
“Well then, don’t fall off so quick,” Hoseok teases, his smile shining through his voice. “Is anyone else craving graduation cake right now, or just me?”
“It got too dark, Jimin,” Seokjin consoles. “It’s not safe. Maybe tomorrow?”
“Are we sleeping over?” Jimin perks up, looking at Taehyung and Hoseok with large puppy-dog eyes. He hops onto Taehyung’s back with no warning, but the larger man just takes it in stride and lets Jimin sit his chin on the top of his head, looping his arms around his legs.
“How does it feel to be tall, Jimin?” Jungkook inquires sarcastically, and the quintet laughs together after Jimin makes an enraged noise.
Namjoon’s feet swirl around in the dark lake water.
“Yeah,” he breathes quietly. “It’s nice to have someone to sit with.” How many lake parties have they had exactly like this one? How many times has Namjoon sat on the shore, alone with his thoughts while the rest of them go out on the boat? Yoongi’s head spins, Namjoon laughs. “That sounds so sad, doesn’t it? God, nevermind. Don’t feel bad for me.”
Yoongi wants to say he understands. He wants to say he understands deeply because he really does. He isolates himself, he sits on the sand while the others swim. He knows. But he can’t find the words, the right ones that will do something profound, before they’re not alone anymore.
“Hi Grandpas,” Seokjin greets sarcastically, coming over to them unsteadily with his boat legs. “I see we’ve been hogging all the beers. Joonie bear, hand me one if you would.”
“Don’t call me that,” Namjoon drones, bending down to take one out of the six-pack anyways. Yoongi watches as he easily rips the plastic around the can and hands it to Seokjin. (He’d torn it effortlessly — wasn’t there a fitness test that firefighters had to pass before they were hired? Namjoon’s arms weren’t very well defined, but they didn’t have to be bodybuilding arms to be really strong, did they?) “You do understand the irony of you calling us grandpas, right? Wait Yoongi, how old are you?” He looks over unsurely.
“I’m twenty-six,” He drawls. Namjoon looks doubtful for a moment but quickly starts to nod because it reinforces his point.
“Yeah, Yoongi may be small ‘n stuff, but we’re both younger than you. You’re the grandpa.”
“No,” Seokjin replies bluntly, poking a hole in his can and immediately shotgunning it. It’s scarily impressive how quickly he finishes it. “I am a young and handsome bachelor.” He tosses the beer can into Namjoon’s recycling bin and waves farewell to Yoongi, clambering up the sand towards the house. He ignores it when Namjoon shouts after him, “Two of those things are true!” But Yoongi still laughs. He shouldn’t be laughing this much. It’s probably the beers. (It’s definitely the beers.)
Namjoon looks back at him, face lit up from the inside and laughing because Yoongi is laughing, and because Yoongi can’t stop for some stupid reason.
“Your face is so red,” Namjoon giggles. Giggles. Any other verb would be too dignified for the noise that comes out of Namjoon’s mouth, he’s chortling like a drunken jester or something. The very thought of that makes Yoongi laugh harder, so much harder that it’s not even a laugh anymore, just red heat on his face and in his cheeks, tears in his eyes and silent chuckles that take up his whole body. “Oh God,” Namjoon wheezes. “Yoongi.”
Yoongi starts to lean, unbalanced, and throws his arm out to hold onto something. He finds Namjoon’s arm across the space between them, which is very solid and helps him rebalance. It’s warm too, which helps him realize that he is, in fact, kind of cold.
“Let’s go inside,” he suggests, and Namjoon nods his head agreeably. Yoongi gets out of his chair first, and starts laughing again when he has to help pull Namjoon up, and then can’t, and then has to try again and nearly falls into the lake himself. They hold onto each other, coming up to the house, their shoes in their hands because they’re too lazy and tipsy to try and put them back on. They hold each other because they’re both off-kilter, or maybe because they want to. Yoongi doesn’t know where Namjoon falls, but he’s somewhere in the middle, unsteadily falling towards want.
The house is still as small as it is during the day when Yoongi is sober, as it is at night when he’s drunk. Especially fitting the other guys into it, who all seem to be in different places. Hoseok, sipping on a homemade alcoholic concoction, talking to Seokjin who has quieted down since their conversation on the shore, eyes sleepy. Taehyung and Jungkook are still bouncing off the walls, loudly whooping in the middle of a competitive ping-pong match. Jimin is clocked out on the couch, phone on his chest. Yoongi kind of wishes he was Jimin for a moment, before remembering that Namjoon is with him. Who he wants to be friends with, and kiss at some point if he can.
“Hey, Yoongi,” Hoseok calls from across the room, where he sits on a stool underneath the buttery kitchen light. Seokjin is hunched across from him with a plate of cake. Hoseok has a plate too, but only crumbs remain on it. He takes a long sip of his drink, sucking on the straw so hard that it makes his cheeks go long and hollow. He waves him over. Yoongi’s hand is still on Namjoon’s arm, but he only gives him a glance before Namjoon mutters something about the bathroom and bumbles off to find it. Yoongi has no other option except to come towards Hoseok, who greets him with a close-lipped smile.
“Looks like you and Namjoon became good friends,” he comments, happy about it. “I’m glad!”
Yoongi crosses his arms, mentally debating with himself. Should he ask about Hoseok’s job? Why he didn’t tell him? Should he tell Hoseok how that hurts him, as his friend? Or is it a better conversation for the morning, when he’s hungover, but at least sober? And less likely to start crying?
“Are we sleeping over?” he settles on asking.
Seokjin shrugs. “ I am,” he answers, half a second from a large, bearish yawn. “Too tired to drive.”
Hoseok cranes his neck to look behind Yoongi, sucking a breath in and letting it out. “Well, Jimin is dead to the world. And we’ve both been drinking. If it’s cool with you, Yoongi….” He lets it trail off, eyes coming back to him to finish the question.
“Yeah,” Yoongi says before he can think too much about it. “Is there room?”
Hoseok looks to Seokjin, as if directing the question to him. Seokjin blows his bangs off of his forehead.
“I’ll probably sleep with Taehyung,” he guesses. “Jimin’s kind of claimed the couch. There’s a futon we can pull out and then the guest bedroom. Maybe an air mattress, if we can find one…?” Hoseok is quick to claim the air mattress for himself, and Jungkook (who was somehow listening in on their conversation) immediately shouts for the futon. Which is kind of weird, but Yoongi won’t complain about getting a whole ass bed. Maybe they’re just being nice since he’s never been to the lake house before.
“Alright,” he concedes. “Guest bedroom for me. Where is it?” Hoseok points behind him, down the hallway that Namjoon had disappeared down. He gets up to make his way there, but Hoseok grabs the back of his shirt before he can walk away. As soon as he does, he lets go, though. Confidence lost. Yoongi turns back, wondering morbidly what’s going to come out of Hoseok’s mouth. It’s puckering in a poutish shape now, as he hesitates to say anything.
“I just…” Hoseok flounders. He looks sorry, and Yoongi knows how morose Hoseok can get on a few drinks (But he knows that Hoseok is still mostly sober). “On the boat, I uh, I thought about how it may seem to you, with Jungkook ‘n me. And I just wanted to let you know that...you know. I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t do that. I didn’t break up with you so I could date him, or anything. What I told you was the truth.”
Hoseok sounds genuinely sorry, and he’s a horrible liar so Yoongi knows it’s real. Any bad feelings he had towards Jungkook has been gone ever since Namjoon told him the truth, and he feels a little bit more of his Hoseok-related bitterness melt into a puddle at his feet. Hoseok is his best friend, too. He can’t be mad at him forever, and not-so-deep down, he knows he won’t be.
“Thanks,” Yoongi says back to him. “We should talk more about it. When it’s not so late and I’m more sober.”
“Yeah,” Hoseok sighs. But he seems lighter, like there’s less weight on him. Yoongi is glad. He claps his hand on his shoulder and hopes that it feels reassuring, like it’s supposed to. Hoseok takes another long gulp through his straw and Yoongi leaves him, hopping off of his stool and toddling back towards the hallway. It’s still dark, because nobody (read: Namjoon) hadn’t thought to turn the light on when they went down it. He feels along the wall for the door and when he finds it, flips the light on.
A lump that could be Namjoon grunts.
“Namjoon,” Yoongi says lazily, collapsing his drunk ass on the side of the mattress that doesn’t dip below Namjoon’s weight. “Get off the bed.”
Namjoon lifts his face from where he had smashed it into the pillows. “I’m sleeping here,” he protests. To which Yoongi almost protests back — but then it dawns on him. The situation that he had been happy to avoid when he had first arrived, had come anyway. But instead of discomfort...there was another feeling. Warm, in a way that made Yoongi feel kind of selfish. This is an opportunity.
He had only known Namjoon for a couple hours.
But who said you couldn’t kiss someone after knowing them for a couple hours?
Society? Society is fake.
Yoongi could kiss Namjoon. If Namjoon wanted. It couldn’t hurt to ask.
“There’s room for both of us,” Namjoon mutters, like it’s not important enough for Yoongi to be having full conversations with himself over. He’s probably right — definitely right. Yoongi scooches to lay down on the side that Namjoon isn’t on. They’re both still in their clothes. Yoongi didn’t think about packing PJs, maybe Namjoon didn’t either. They both lay down in silence, in the dark, and usually Yoongi is fast to fall asleep. But he can’t with Namjoon right next to him, breathing and heart beating.
His heart has taken place of his brain, too big for his skull, pulsing against it and pushing heat into his face and in the back of his eyes. The bed creaks and the blankets are pulled slightly away from Yoongi.
Apparently Namjoon can’t sleep either.
“Are you awake?” he whispers after who-knows-how-long. Like he’s a kid at his first sleepover. Yoongi should find it annoying, but he doesn’t.
“Yeah,” he says.
“I can’t sleep,” Namjoon says back. There’s a rustle, and the mattress creaks, as Namjoon readjusts himself restlessly. “Can we talk for a little bit?”
A secret pleased feeling finds its way to Yoongi’s face. He’s glad it’s dark, because he can feel himself smiling. “Yeah.”
“What do you do for a living? You never told me.”
Yoongi hums, playing with the blanket and forcing his eyes to stay up on the ceiling. He knows that Namjoon is looking at him, facing him, and he can’t roll over and face him. As much as he wants to, it feels so intimate. Too intimate for someone who just asked what his job is. He doesn’t want to force Namjoon into anything like that.
“I’m a translator,” he starts. Namjoon reacts enthusiastically.
“Really?” He gasps, making the bed creak as he sits up. Yoongi can only tell because his huge silhouette blocks the thin outline of light around the door. “I’ve always wanted to learn another language, that’s so cool! What language?”
“Sign language. I do concerts, usually rap, that’s pretty popular. I don’t get a lot of gigs though, so I do part-time jobs too.” He doesn’t go into detail about that job. There is nothing particularly interesting or cool about being a waiter.
Namjoon goggles at him, mouth hanging open a little bit. He shouldn’t be this impressed. It’s not like Yoongi is making a career out of saving people’s lives, or anything. Namjoon’s the hero here.
The aforementioned hero makes a confused noise. “Wait, but how the hell do you know Hoseok, then?”
“High school,” Yoongi answers. “I didn’t really mean to keep up with him after graduation, but he’s a leech, and also my best friend, so. We stuck together somehow.”
“That’s so nice,” Namjoon breathes. Is he closer than before? Yoongi can’t tell if he’s closer or not, but he thinks he is. “I don’t talk to anyone from my high school anymore. Are you still in love with him?”
The suddenness of the question and the blunt way Namjoon phrases it causes laughter to bubble out of Yoongi’s throat.
“What?” he says, trying to figure out where Namjoon’s mind is right now. Is he less or more awake than him? Is he drunker than Yoongi thought? “I mean, no. I don’t think so. We didn’t date for super long and it’s been awhile since — why are we talkin’ about my love life? You’re a firefighter, not a therapist, last time I checked.” Namjoon laughs.
“Sorry,” he flops back down next to Yoongi on the bed sloppily. The image of the puppy with too-big feet comes back to Yoongi’s mind. “Just can’t stop thinking about it. It was nagging me.”
“You never finished talking about firefighting,” Yoongi nudges him slightly, changing the subject. Namjoon lets out a deep breath, and he can feel it warmly tickle his ear.
“Where was I?” Namjoon wonders. Speaking so quietly, his voice is more like a deep rumble in his chest than anything else. “Hmm…well, I’m already hired at a fire station. The one on Oaker Street. I’ll start there on Monday.”
That’s not too far from Yoongi’s apartment. “Maybe I’ll come visit you.”
He’s not expecting Namjoon to agree, it was meant to come off as a lighthearted comment, but Namjoon nods so vigorously that his head rubs against his pillow loud enough to hear.
“Yeah!” he says keenly. “I would love that.”
Okay, Yoongi kind of wants to laugh now. Because this isn’t how it works, right? Namjoon isn’t supposed to be so agreeable so quickly. He’s not supposed to want to see Yoongi so eagerly, is he? This kind of thing — friendship, or whatever they’re doing — it isn’t supposed to be this easy to achieve. Namjoon likes him too much.
His breath stutters halfway out of his throat, his heart panging unexpectedly. He’s not sure why he’s so surprised that someone can like him right off the bat.
Well, actually, yes he is.
It’s because not even Yoongi likes himself right off the bat.
“Do you have a dog?” Yoongi questions quietly, racking his brain for something to say. “I have a dog. Aren’t fire stations supposed to have dogs?”
Namjoon chuckles. “I don’t have any pets. Do you have a dalmation?”
“Holly is much better than any dalmation. He’s a toy poodle and he’s the best dog you’ll ever meet.” Holly is with his brother right now, and Yoongi is silently glad that he thought ahead to make sure his puppy was taken care of. The picture of Namjoon holding Holly comes to mind, and Yoongi forces him to save it for later. There’s too much to unpack there. He’ll contemplate it when he’s alone.
“I’ll have to make sure he’s our official mascot, then.”
Namjoon rolls over again, and this time he is definitely closer. His warm breath stirs Yoongi’s hair. Yoongi is still training his eyes on the ceiling. He doesn’t feel drunk anymore. Mostly. Every part of him is alive, on edge. His stupid brain is thinking all sorts of things. Mostly about Namjoon. Namjoon’s hands, Namjoon’s words, his mouth , and what kind of kisser he is.
Yoongi is going to ask Namjoon to kiss him. He has to. He’ll never do it if he’s sober.
He rolls over to face Namjoon. The tips of their noses are a hair away from each other, he knows that even in the dark. Namjoon’s breath smells like beer. Both of theirs do.
“Hi,” Yoongi breathes. He can’t bring his voice above a whisper.
“Hi,” Namjoon whispers back. There’s a beat of silence that feels heavy, feels important. Yoongi briefly wonders if he’s reading this entire situation right. If he and Namjoon are on the same page, or if he has a completely different idea in his head. Then Namjoon says, “Are we about to do something stupid?”
Yoongi shivers, goosebumps spreading down his neck. “If you want to.”
They should talk about this first. Yoongi’s only had one boyfriend and it was Hoseok , who he’s known for years. He’s never done this sort of thing with anyone else before, definitely not with someone he’d known for less than a day. But he wants to, he really, really wants to. It’s kind of surreal, like a love at first sight kind of thing. Yoongi doesn’t believe in that. But how else does he describe this immense, persistent being that takes flight in his chest when Namjoon does the littlest thing?
Namjoon brings up his hand, finds Yoongi’s face in the dark. His fingers search blindly for a moment, brushing over his nose and his lips until they cradle Yoongi’s chin. He knows his face is hot, because Namjoon’s fingers feel cool.
“Yeah, I want to.”
They meet somewhere in the middle. Which isn’t hard, they barely have to move their heads at all to reach each other. The kiss is a little clumsy. Yoongi has to find where Namjoon’s mouth is in the dark, and ends up kissing the edge of it and his chin before he hits the sweet spot.
Namjoon’s lips are soft and taste a little like beer, but what else would Yoongi expect? It’s nice, and makes everything feel all hot and mushy. Namjoon’s hand slides from his chin to cup his cheek, as delicately as how one would hold a glass ornament. He meets Yoongi again, and this time they both aim better. There’s more behind it, more push. His hand slides up Namjoon’s side, feeling the muscle that isn’t obvious but is still very present. And he feels Namjoon’s other arm worm under him to pull them closer. Impossibly closer. This close, he feels surrounded by Namjoon on all sides. Their chests could be touching. Yoongi isn’t sure, he’s too distracted with the sweetness of Namjoon’s lips on his own.
It sends his mind into a dizzy frenzy. He feels drunker than he is, like there are no thoughts left buzzing in his soupy head. Namjoon is a great kisser, even drunk, he pushes his mouth against Yoongi’s in all the right ways. He fights the urge to whine when Namjoon pulls away.
“I hope this is okay,” he murmurs.
“It’s really okay,” Yoongi is quick to assure him. “Namjoon, I really like you.” He touches his lips to Namjoon’s softly and briefly, barely a peck. Maybe it’s the dark that gives him that much courage. “I like you a lot.”
They’re close enough that he can feel Namjoon’s chest hiccup with a silent laugh.
“I like you a lot too,” he echoes. “I liked you the second I saw you. You’re so cute,” he kisses Yoongi’s cheek as a punctuation. “And funny,” His other cheek. “And kind,” His forehead. “And you understand me.” The tip of his nose. “This is surreal.” Namjoon moves, then. Surreal, surreal, surreal. It’s the right word. Namjoon is good at coming up with the right words. He leaves Yoongi’s side and when he does, Yoongi can’t stop himself from making a tiny sound of discontent. But he doesn’t go far, merely readjusting his position to kiss Yoongi better. Namjoon comes back to him from above, his body over Yoongi’s, his kiss like a benign crash into his mouth.
Yoongi lets it happen, savoring the fantastical feeling Namjoon brings up in him. He doesn’t know how to deal with all this praise, and he’s being kissed silly. It’s driving him completely mental. Or maybe he was already halfway there, and Namjoon’s just bridged the gap. Yoongi trails his hand over the slope of shoulders, neck, and follows the lines of Namjoon’s body down an arm until he finds one of Namjoon’s rough hands and interlocks their fingers together. Even though Namjoon is so much taller, their hands aren’t that different in size. He feels flushed and fuzzy at the thought, a warmth that runs all the way down from the tips of his ears to the bottoms of his feet.
He thinks, he really thinks that kissing this boy could get him drunker than any beer. It wasn’t this way with Hoseok. Kissing Hoseok just felt like he was kissing his best friend. He didn’t know there was a better feeling like this until now. Cosmic. Like Yoongi could know every secret of the universe if he kissed and touched Namjoon long enough.
When they finally have to break away to breathe, Namjoon falls on his back on Yoongi’s side again.
“I’m tired,” he says sleepily. “Kissing you is like exercise.” Still, he pulls Yoongi into him, wrapping his warm arms around Yoongi’s middle. He’s not feeling as drowsy as Namjoon, still alive and dizzy with kisses, but he welcomes the embrace, letting himself be cuddled. It’s a nice feeling. Namjoon’s strong arms around him feel like a shield, guarding him from anything that would wish him harm. No wonder he’s a firefighter, Yoongi thinks. If just being held like this makes me feel safe, imagine what the rest of him can do. He entertains the vision of Namjoon in his mind, wearing the uniform and running into a blazing fire to save people. Him, coming out of a burning building with a child in his arms, ready to reunite them with their terrified parents. In the end, Yoongi doesn’t really care about Namjoon’s toned legs, or his pretty face. He likes the person who asked him to sit and have a beer. He likes the person whose childhood dream was to be a dad. He likes the man who decided his backup plan was to save people.
Namjoon buries his face in Yoongi’s hair, his mouth right by Yoongi’s ear. “This isn’t a dream, is it?” he whispers, slow and careful.
“No,” Yoongi replies. Still confused on exactly how he’s gotten here, in Namjoon’s arms, but too warm and weak for affection to question it. “Go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” Namjoon hums in reply, and doesn’t speak again. His chin sits lightly on the top of Yoongi’s head, and he listens to the rhythm of Namjoon’s heartbeat and breath until they even out. Quiet and measured.
And then Yoongi follows, drifting into sleep with Namjoon on him like a blanket.
He doesn’t dream, and wakes up first thing in the morning. The sound of Namjoon’s snoring stirs him.
He can feel it rumbling in Namjoon’s chest, which is still flush with his back, and he can hear it close to his ear. Thank goodness he’s a heavy sleeper, otherwise he would have been waking up constantly all night.
Carefully, as to not disturb him, Yoongi slips out from the covers and replaces his absence with a pillow. His legs are stiff and his head pounds, he’s thirsty. But it’s not the worst he’s felt after drinking. It’s hard to feel bad at all, probably, when one has spent a night in the embrace of a handsome man with a handsomer heart. Namjoon’s mouth is gaping open. Yoongi watches him lie there, remembering last night with a rush of fondness and slight embarrassment. He had been really forward last night. Not too forward, he hopes. The last thing he wants is to scare Namjoon away.
He stretches slowly, feeling his spine pop with satisfaction, before quietly leaving the room. He squints. The windows in the living room are open, letting the sun and fresh air in. It smells like lake everywhere, and a little like meat. Someone is cooking. He spots Jimin, still passed out on the couch. There is a curly mustache on his face drawn in permanent marker that wasn’t there last night. He purses his lips, holding in a laugh.
The person who is awake and cooking is Jungkook, who gives him a very polite, sweet smile. But he’s not really cooking, Yoongi realizes. Just using the microwave to heat up leftovers from last night. Jungkook is in borrowed pajamas, hair unbrushed over tired eyes. Very different from the boy who was versing Taehyung in ping-pong last night.
“G’morning,” he says to Jungkook, coming beside him to search for a cup. Jungkook opens the cabinet to Yoongi’s left, and hands him a plastic one.
“Good morning,” he replies drowsily, his hand retracting to cover a yawn when Yoongi takes the glass.
Yoongi turns the tap on cold and fills his cup to the brim. The cool water going down his throat is the best possible feeling, and he sighs in satisfaction when he downs the last of it. Sometimes, there is nothing that tastes better than cold water. Jungkook takes what he was reheating out of the microwave (A leftover burger patty. Really, Jungkook? For breakfast?) and puts it on a plate, heading for a stool to sit on. He doesn’t say anything else, settling down to eat in tired silence.
Yoongi is left with little else to do but retreat back to his room. On the way back, he spots Seokjin, bleary-eyed but dressed, coming out from the bathroom.
“Sleep well?” Seokjin asks, voice rough.
“Yeah,” Yoongi answers, keeping his face straight. He slept really well, but doesn’t really want other people to know about all of that quite yet. Seokjin nods.
“I’ll make you breakfast if you want something,” he offers, passing Yoongi in the hallway but walking backwards to still face him. “We have eggs and some leftovers from last night.”
Yoongi considers telling Seokjin about Jungkook’s impromptu breakfast currently happening in the kitchen, but decides that he’ll find out soon enough. So he just nods and says, “That’ll be great. Namjoon will probably want some too.” Seokjin shoots him a finger gun and turns, and Yoongi does too, back to his room. He doesn’t remember putting his wallet anywhere last night, he’ll have to search the bedroom for it.
His hand reaches on the doorknob, just about to turn it when the door whips open by itself. Yoongi doesn’t startle easy but is still surprised to find all of Namjoon there, tall in the doorframe.
“Good morning,” Yoongi says, but can’t say anything else before Namjoon is pulling him in, closing the door behind him.
“I woke up and you weren’t--weren’t--” Namjoon stutters, clearly still waking up. His hair is a bird’s nest, going every single way except the way it’s supposed to. “I woke up and I thought it was all a dream. For a second--you weren’t where you were and I thought I made you up in my head.” Namjoon’s thumbs rub the sleeves of Yoongi’s shirt anxiously.
“I was just getting a glass of water,” he tells him.
“Sorry,” Namjoon says. “I just--last night was so...unreal. It was so easy to think for a moment that it had never happened at all. I’m, um, I’m happy that you’re still here.” Maybe he’s reading too far into this. Maybe Namjoon is just talking about here at the house, in their room. Or maybe he’s talking about staying with him. Creating something that isn’t just a one night thing. Something that they can’t brush off as a dream, or a drunken mistake.
If Yoongi were to tell Namjoon their kisses didn’t mean anything, now would be the time. Or vice versa, he supposes. If either of them wanted to walk away, to laugh it off, it would be now. But Namjoon’s face is all-too-telling, the earnesty in his voice is unmistakable. He isn’t laughing it off. And neither is Yoongi.
“Are we still…?” Namjoon starts weakly. Yoongi wants to interrupt, give him a sweet kiss and tell him yes, but he lets Namjoon figure out what he wants to say. “I mean, do you still want to…? Do you still like me?” His eyes are so big as they search Yoongi’s face for answers. Like he’s half-expecting Yoongi to say no, like if Yoongi said no it would break his too-big heart.
Maybe that’s something he and Namjoon have in common--hearts that are too big. How else does someone end up here? His own stupid heart with stupid, too-quick feelings that Yoongi always fails to rope in. A heart that beats a sappy song, content with every cliché. And Namjoon, who decided to patch his bleeding heart with goodwill and service, but still has room for some sappy stranger who appeared at his graduation party.
Yoongi has never met someone who falls in love with things (or ideas, or people) quite as quickly as he tends to. But here Namjoon is.
“Of course I still like you,” he mutters. “You idiot, of course I do. I wouldn’t make out with you if I didn’t mean--” Namjoon leans down to kiss him firmly, forcing Yoongi’s back against the wall. His mouth only lingers slightly, but it’s just as good as the night before.
“So you would still want to see me,” Namjoon pants (Why is he so out of breath? Exercise. Hadn’t he said kissing Yoongi was like exercise?) “You would want to visit at the station? At my house, maybe? We could go to dinner. Get drinks. Talk more. Kiss more, too.”
That’s a lot to picture, but he gets the general gist that Namjoon is trying to ask him to be his boyfriend. And that’s another image--them, together. Yoongi with this cute, strong firefighter man who is still a bit of a boy. Yoongi with the man who saves lives but cherishes his the most. He likes that. He likes the idea of what they could be, the happy potential that lies in between them. He wants to try for it.
“That sounds so good,” Yoongi tells him honestly. “That is exactly what I want.” And he blushes when Namjoon smiles. Reveals those dimples he secretly finds so adorable. One day, he silently vows. One day soon I will poke those. He blushes harder when Namjoon presses a quick kiss to his temple and then backs away, smile all over his face, allowing them both space.
“Seokjin is cooking breakfast for us,” Yoongi mentions as an afterthought, waving his hand like a fan. The heat under his skin just won’t go away. “Eggs, I think.”
Their shoes were thrown carelessly on the ground last night, Namjoon bends down to retrieve his. He then sits on the bed to tug them on, not bothering with the laces, and Yoongi likes even that. He stands in the doorway. After a second of consideration, he extends his arm out and wiggles his fingers in invitation. Namjoon hasn’t stopped smiling, it just grows wider when stands back up. “Sounds good,” he says. He takes Yoongi’s hand in his own. “I’m starved.”