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all of our moves make up for the silence

Chapter Text

The bar is still playing an eclectic mix of country and trap music as they get stamped into a room full of sweaty, slightly tipsy, tired young adults. Namjoon settles in against the wall, waiting for Seokjin and Yoongi to make their way in, barely seeing his surroundings.

He’s only upright and interacting with people because of a series of convincing yet vague texts from Yoongi paired with the promise of free drinks.

Conveniently, Yoongi had left out that the two rounds promised would be of Pabst Blue Ribbon from Namjoon's gag gift - a 99 pack that he gave as a housewarming present -smuggled in by Seokjin via cargo shorts. He should've known. Seokjin finds a way to smuggle them into every event, even the ones that aren't BYOB. Yoongi calls it “frugal” but Namjoon calls it “annoying as shit”.

The first time Seokjin managed to rattle past security with a questionable amount of beer loaded in his shorts, Namjoon couldn't stop laughing. However, three months later, the joke doesn't land the same way. Yoongi takes pity on him and buys him a whiskey ginger, but Seokjin hangs back to keep emptying out his pockets. When they return, at least 12 cans are lined up on the floor around him.

“Why do I even hang out with you two?” Namjoon says, more to the rim of his cup than anyone else.

“Someone has to take one for the team,” Seokjin pauses his unloading to tap at his leg (seriously, how many cans did he get in tonight?), slinging his other arm around Yoongi who has turned his attention to his phone, nodding his head in time to the first acoustic song of the night.

Namjoon reluctantly accepts the can Seokjin pushes into his open hand. He starts to open his mouth to say something crude but he remembers that it's cold out, he doesn't want to walk home, and he can’t drive. He downs the dregs of the whiskey ginger as he coaches himself to reel it back, but Seokjin’s got a look in his eye that tells him loud and clear that he's not getting away with being grumbly that easily.

“Remember to stay hydrated, Joonie,” Seokjin coos in his most aeygo, reaching over to pinch at Namjoon's cheek. He bats the hand away, pushing his jaw out at the offending tone. “That was once,” Namjoon complains, feeling his cheeks heat up as he pops the tab, and Yoongi snorts. “Scraping your ass off the floor and dragging you back to the car was not how we wanted to spend our night, so I'd say once is enough.”

He gets the flash of a memory of emo nights a few months past, where Namjoon remembers singing along to a Cobra Starship song and suddenly, darkness. He remembers waking up face down in the backseat of Yoongi's car, but not much else. Oh, to be a twenty-something drunk off too many vodka Red Bulls.

“Laying in a mystery wet spot was not how I wanted to spend my night either,” Namjoon shoots back, and Yoongi tilts his head at him, smiling tightly.

“It's okay, I promise someone will want to touch your dick again one day.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes, mumbling something that sounds like only three months and fucking pests. “Fuck you guys.”

“Take an Uber home next time,” Seokjin claps a hand on his shoulder before turning his attention back to Yoongi, whose attention has returned to his phone. They're doing the thing again that makes them hard to look at - Yoongi leaning his head against his Seokjin’s chest while Seokjin rests his head on Yoongi's, rubbing his arm in small circles. It's simple, but it makes him ache with something like longing. Namjoon averts his eyes.

Seokjin and Yoongi have pried him out of his home so often lately that he's ready to slow down. In a series of weird texts, Yoongi and Seokjin promised that this is the last time for a while if he just came out. He knows that they just don’t want him to be left out, but sometimes he gets tired of feeling like a third wheel. Especially now.

Now, he needs at least one more drink before he feels comfortable enough to get in front of people, even if no one can hear him over the music. People still have to witness his mortal form move, and he would rather be somewhat tipsy before he has to be seen. He perks up at the opening notes of "Everything is Alright," making grabby hands at Seokjin until he exaggerates a deep sigh. “Oh sure, now you want my shitty wheat water,” he grumbles, but puts a beer can in Namjoon's waiting hand.

“Make good choices!" Seokjin calls after him.

Namjoon salutes him before taking off into the throng. “No promises!” he calls back.

🍺 🍺 🍺

Namjoon knows at least two things to be true:

One, he's approximately 3 drinks past tipsy, brain buzzing with warmth and tumbling into drunk territory quickly, faster than the way Seokjin nearly eats it tripping on the platform during "Fat Lip," faster than the way Yoongi fully leaps off stage and crowd surfs during the first MCR song of the night and

Two, the way Yoongi and Seokjin keep glancing towards the door and checking their phones is concerning. If it were any other night, he'd think they were dropping hints that they want to go home, but Yoongi can only go so long without riling up Seokjin to complain. He may be drunk and hopelessly oblivious but he recognizes what it means: he was dragged out of his home tonight to be set up with another one of their friends.

It’s happened before, much to his chagrin, made worse by the fact that he is a) the sole person in their friend group who has been privy to some of Yoongi’s more handsy behavior and also b) he is eternally single. He can only imagine how those conversations go. “Hey, you should meet my gay disaster of a best friend, Namjoon! We didn’t date but I used to suck his dick at parties. Really good at trivia, too.”

As he cautiously makes his approach toward the hyungs and their new plus-one, he catches sight of a perfect ski-slope nose, high cheekbones, and heart-shaped smile and his stomach drops into his ass because oh no, he’s hot.

Hoseok, as he introduces himself, is a dancer, he's a friend of Yoongi’s from his one (1) semester of college, and he's like an animated character come to life in that he is louder and technicolor than any person has any right to be. And, to top it all off, he is ridiculously charming. He's woefully underdressed for the weather and just in general, lean bare legs peeking out from a pair of bright yellow shorts, out from under an oversized white t-shirt.

His laugh sounds like wind chimes.

Namjoon hates him.

Namjoon is instantly smitten.

He’s thankful for the invention of alcohol for loosening his tongue because conversation with Hoseok comes easy, and Namjoon isn’t the least offended that he’s never heard half of the bands the DJ is playing. He almost doesn't notice that they've been alone with each other until much, much later, when they're rejoined by a louder, whooping Seokjin who smells strongly of cheap hand soap and a disheveled, yet smug-looking Yoongi. He knows better than to ask any questions. They have no shame.

🩳🩳🩳

Yoongi drags them all on stage during “Saturday”, which Hoseok surprisingly knows the correct words to. If Namjoon had to guess, due to Yoongi's impact. (Hoseok’s been loudly singing the wrong words all night. He misses what he says completely at one moment that makes Seokjin’s face go beet red and makes Yoongi pretend to gag.)

It's been maybe an hour of screaming at the top of their lungs when a song none of them recognize comes on, and Hoseok yells that he's buying everyone a round of drinks. He doesn't ask Seokjin to come along, but he follows.

Yoongi, who is still nursing drink number two, turns to Namjoon with a look on his face, humming primly to himself as he reaches a hand out to absentmindedly smooth out his collar.

“So,” Yoongi begins, failing to sound even the slightest bit nonchalant. “Say thank you, Yoongi hyung.”

“I can't believe you've done this,” Namjoon sighs.

“Can't you though?”

Namjoon crosses his arms and frowns. He stares down at Yoongi unblinkingly, who returns the same blank expression.

“To be fair, he wanted to meet you. He kept sending me pictures from your Instagram with the eyes emoji all of last week.” Yoongi says.

Namjoon feels his throat go dry.

“Well, you could've at least told me to wear a nicer shirt,” Namjoon concedes finally.

Yoongi waves away his moaning. “We'll say it's part of your unique charm. Besides, he sang ‘I just wanna dick you down so badly’ straight to your face in front of us and God. I don't think you have anything to worry about.”

Namjoon opens his mouth to respond, but no sound comes out as things click into place.

“Oh God, people could hear that?”

Hoseok has reappeared, with a looser, more affectionate Seokjin in tow, who's wrapped himself around Hoseok like a clingy snake. Yoongi sighs and gently maneuvers him into his arms, looking disgustingly fond when he proudly announces “We did shots!”

💀💀💀


Namjoon is too much of an anxious realist to believe in love at first sight or fate but it wouldn't be the first time he's had his faith shaken, choosing to believe in the worship of a warm gaze under the flickering street lamps.

They're outside, huddled together in the cold, and they're both still a little drunk. The chill of the late November air feels good on his skin, still warm from alcohol and absorbing body heat.

Hoseok tells him a story about Yoongi in college, laughing so hard that he can barely speak, and Namjoon just observes. He takes in the moment and tries to ignore the way he feels hot all over under Hoseok's gaze. Namjoon ducks his head when it gets a little too intense.

“Hey,” Hoseok says suddenly, reaching out to pat his knee. “I know you didn't want to, but I’m glad you came out tonight, Namjoon-ah.” He lets himself look at Hoseok then, just really take in what he looks like. His light brown hair is windswept, the tip of his nose is bright pink. He's retreated into his sweater, hood bunched up around his forehead and hands pulled in for warmth. It's cute. He's cute.

Namjoon lets himself scooch closer, a sudden gust of wind serving as an excuse but Hoseok's looking at him knowingly, and the static tension in the air has charged them both. There's a freckle on his upper lip that his eyes travel to, and he can't look away until it blurs out of view when their lips meet. Hoseok giggles against his mouth, leaning into the warmth of his body. His lips are cold, and so are his hands, gently threading through his hair.

Hoseok pulls away to gripe, pushing his nose against his arm, lips forming a soft pout. “‘m cold,” Hoseok's voice comes out muffled, and Namjoon sighs admiringly, shrugging out of his coat and draping it over Hoseok's shoulders. Namjoon mumbles something about fragile bird bones that makes Hoseok jab him in the ribs, letting himself get pulled along as Hoseok drags him back toward the venue.

He doesn’t want to say that returning warmth of Hoseok’s hand in his is all he needs.

Distantly, he can hear the thumping intro of “Sugar We’re Goin’ Down” and hear Patrick Stump sing out the line “Am I more than you bargained for yet?”

Silently he answers: Hoseok is that and so much more.

Chapter Text

How many people does it take to pry one drunk Jeon Jungkook off of a handsome stranger? Much to Jimin’s embarrassment, three.

Jungkook has latched on to a tall broad stranger who is rapidly turning an impressive shade of burgundy. Even as Jungkook sways back and forth with him in his arms, singing the words of a Paramore song extremely off-key, he’s got an impressive grip on the hand of his friend? Boyfriend? Who is doubled over, laughing his head off.

“Oh God, I'm so sorry,” Jimin fusses, and Taehyung reaches out for Jungkook, who looks comfortable and smarmy about where he is, head pillowed on his - Namjoon's - chest.

“I made a friend!”

“I see that, Kookie, but it's time to go home now,” Taehyung says soothingly. A hand closes around Jungkook's arm and he startles, stumbling away.

Hey," Jungkook pouts, putting all of his weight on Namjoon's shoulders, making him lean down with him. "My boyfriends will kick your ass if you hurt me,” he hisses. He stops, craning his head up thoughtfully, to smile up at Namjoon. “Do you have a boyfriend?” Jimin looks over to the giggling man, still bent over and holding his stomach, but looking at him fondly.

“Um. Yeah, friend.”

Taehyung makes eye contact with Giggles and this time, they start cracking up together. Jimin breathes in deeply through his nose and counts to three.

After several minutes of coaxing by Taehyung and Jimin, who really just wants to finish his damn White Claw and go to bed like yesterday, they manage to pry him off and into their arms. Jimin apologizes profusely, insisting on buying their new acquaintances a drink for their troubles.

“No worries,” Namjoon replies, sounding very much sounds like he has a couple worries. “It added flavor to the night.” His friend adds, wiping genuine honest-to-god tears from his eyes. They end up exchanging numbers, somehow, and Jimin thinks he’s finally home free as they lead Jungkook out of the venue and then -

“Bye thighs!” Jungkook calls. Jimin makes a distressed wail, yanking him through the door by the hand.

The air is stale with embarrassment in the car ride home. It doesn’t wear off when Jimin has him back in his arms and in the back of the car - because Jungkook gets carsick and always wants to be babied, more than usual, even more so when he’s on the losing side of three (3) vodka Red Bulls - and he gently yet firmly tells him that he cannot make new friends by latching to their side without their consent.

"Okay," Jungkook says sadly. He mumbles something about a firm chest before snuggling deeper into Jimin.

It flares up again when Jungkook’s new friend’s friend Hoseok - texts him to ask if they’ve gotten home okay.

“‘I cannot stop laughing at bye thighs!’” Jimin reads out loud, and Taehyung, who’s been unusually quiet in the driver’s seat throws his head back and laughs, startling Jungkook back into full consciousness. “Drunk idiot boy, I love you,” Taehyung reaches back to pat Jungkook’s knee and Jimin swats him away.

“Don't encourage him!” Jimin snaps.

🍻 🍻 🍻

It happens like this:

Jungkook got the word that My Chemical Romance was back via Twitter and after several minutes of just whooping as the DJ plays “The Sharpest Lives” and “House of Wolves” back to back, Jungkook Goes Feral like no one has ever seen before.

Feral, as in, becoming one with the mosh pit for most of the night. Even to songs that people don’t mosh to. People applaud his enthusiasm, even cheering him on as he windmills to the chorus of “Complicated”. His dedication to truly going the fuck off is a sight to behold. Jimin watches with one-part horror and two-parts admiration, grumbling lovingly into his peach White Claw before singing along to a newer Panic! at the Disco song at the top of his lungs. The music kind of sucks tonight, but both of his boyfriends are having fun, and that's what matters. Leave it to Jungkook to make the night more interesting than it needed to be, because just as he decides he can turn his back to check on Taehyung, who is gleefully playing Candy Crush in the corner, just when he thinks he can maybe grab a second drink for the night and just bop to the sounds of The Postal Service, Jungkook-

He doesn’t recognize what’s happening at first, only catching the rumblings of a ruckus at the front of the stage as he chats idly with Taehyung. “God, what a bunch of drunk idiots,” he mumbles, waving his hands. Taehyung glances over his shoulder, lips pressing together like he’s trying to hide his amusement from Jimin. He's a little too riveted by whatever is happening, and he's got a bad feeling about this.

"Tae-ah.” He says, already bracing for impact.

“Jiminie,” Taehyung replies slowly. “When was the last time you had eyes on our dear Jungkookie?”

“Like two seconds ago. He was chatting excitedly to the trashcan in English about Tripp pants.”

“Well…” Taehyung trails off, peering over Jimin's shoulder and to glance at stage. “Looks like Jungkookie has made some new friends.” Jimin feels a wide fake smile plaster itself onto his face as he turns slowly. “Taehyung, please tell me that when I turn around, I am not going to see our drunk idiot on stage.”

“You will not see our drunk idiot on stage. You will, however, see your dear, sweet Jungkookie latched onto a stranger, singing into his ear probably at full volume.”

“I’m going to kill him-”

“He’s just vibing,” Taehyung says back, eyes squinted in focus. He fishes around in his pockets while staring at the screen, and looks up at Jimin apologetically. “Aw fuck, I can’t find my Juul.”

"Hey Tae? Fuck your Juul."

Taehyung blinks, slowly before treating Jimin to his megawatt smile. "I love you, too, Jiminie."