Work Header

Sweet But Sour

Work Text:

Yoongi didn’t venture outside of his bedroom until the microwave dinged, which became an issue in itself, because Jungkook could have sworn it was his microwaveable ramen that needed rescuing, not whatever sad pot of tteokbokki Yoongi subsisted on. Jungkook bought convenience store microwaveable food just as much as the next starving college student, but he’d never seen Yoongi eat anything that couldn’t be microwaved.

That wasn’t his problem, though.

“One sec,” he told Jimin and Taehyung, who weren’t that much interested in what looked to become an argument over the microwave as they laid against a huddle of beanbags and discussed Jimin’s Tinder options. Jungkook left them to it, hiking over the back of the sofa and shuffling over to the kitchen.

“I’ve told you a million times not to do that,” Yoongi drily said without looking at Jungkook, gingerly opening the microwave door with an oven glove, because their microwave had proven to be temperamental at best and the landlord was apparently too busy to order a replacement. Living in the city centre had its downfalls. Jungkook didn’t respond, fixing his eyes on whatever Yoongi was retrieving from the microwave which was … Yep, what was a bowl of well-cooked, soft-looking ramen noodles.

“Your memory must be going,” Jungkook shot back in response. “Because I’m pretty sure that’s my dinner you’ve just taken.”

Yoongi gave him a mocking smile, an Is it? smile which annoyed Jungkook even more, because going by the way Yoongi had lurked out of his room at the sound of the microwave, he hadn’t known what was in there as much as Jungkook.

“Gimme,” Jungkook made grabby hands for the bowl, which caused Yoongi to, slowly, agonisingly, put it down on the opposite counter. “There was no need.”

“There was every need,” Yoongi retorted, and slouched off. The sound of his door hinges whining as he shut his door was enough to get Jungkook’s back up, but he had an entire bowl of ramen waiting him, plus Jimin and Taehyung’s company and whatever potentially poisonous alcohol Jimin had in store for them.

“Back.” Jungkook threw himself down onto the sofa with even more vigour than normal, because Yoongi cared more for the welfare of a piece of furniture in a rented apartment than he did for Jungkook’s appetite, apparently. Jimin looked up from his phone long enough to arch an eyebrow at Jungkook.

“Roommate getting on your nerves again?”

Jungkook tried not to relish the word Roommate out of Jimin’s mouth, as it avoided saying Yoongi’s name entirely. He scooped a heap of ramen and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing vehemently.

“He acts like it’s his apartment,” he complained, not caring if his voice resonated through the walls into Yoongi’s bedroom. Yoongi spent most of his time with headphones plugged in, anyway. He’d miss any fire alarm going off, but Jungkook wasn’t going to be the one to point it out to him. “Just because he’s been here, what, two years longer than me?”

“With the other guy, right?” Taehyung checked, not looking up from the phone. He made a noise of appreciation and tilted the screen in Jimin’s direction, who nodded.

“Yep, he can definitely stay – wait, what’s that message you’re typing?”

“Guys, please,” Jungkook said with a touch of impatience, swallowing another heap load of ramen. “My problem first.”

Jimin sighed and put down the phone, facing Jungkook with what Jungkook called the Fatherly Face – which meant he was about to dish out advice, which meant Jungkook was probably going to get lectured. He slouched down in his seat and waited.

“I don’t understand why you don’t just move out, Kook. If the guy annoys you so much, can’t you live elsewhere? I see listings for apartments every day.”

“Every day,” Taehyung repeated, helpfully. “Or, you can live with Jimin and me.”

Jungkook thought briefly about what that would be like – a kind of eternal third-wheeling – and shook his head. “That’s not the principle. Why should I have to move out?” Just because Yoongi is attached parasitically to this place, a voice in his head said, which Jungkook liked. Jungkook agreed with the voice in his head much more than he did Jimin and Taehyung’s rationale.

Jimin spared a testy glance at Yoongi’s bedroom to see if he was listening before he said anything – Jungkook wanted to tell him there was no point bothering – and said, “I don’t think the guy’s gonna move out, Jungkook. He’s been here three years. Either you go, or you stay. But don’t keep bitching about if you’re not going to change anything.”

“You guys suck,” Jungkook pouted, consoling himself with the last scoop of ramen. “Why do you have to be reasonable about it?”

“We’re here for you, Jungkookie,” Taehyung said, resting a hand on Jungkook’s arm, his eyes sparkling. Jungkook huffed but didn’t shrug him off, and Taehyung eventually sat back down. “But I think I know the real reason why you hate the guy so much.”

Ohh, the real reason,” Jimin chorused, nodding like he knew exactly what the fuck Taehyung was on about, uncapping a bottle of beer with his teeth (which was forever Jimin’s party trick). “Yeah, Taehyung and I were discussing this.”

Jungkook stared at them blatantly, almost not believing this betrayal. “You guys discussed this? When I wasn’t there?”

“We do more than just look at Jimin’s Tinder, Kook,” Taehyung pointed out, which wasn’t the reason for Jungkook’s gripe. “But, uh, as you know your forever conflict and tension with your roommate is a constant talking point, so sometimes Jimin and I discuss theories.”

“Theories,” Jungkook said blankly, putting his empty bowl to one side. His ramen was gone, he hadn’t drunk any beer yet, and now he was being confronted with the notion that his best friends theorised over his (awful) relationship with Yoongi. The night hadn’t got off to a spectacular start. But a part of him thought Fuck it, why not so he waved a hand and added, “Okay. Tell me all about them.”

“Well, the leading theory is that you want to screw him.”

Jungkook sputtered, his ears going pink – a trait he’d had since childhood, that he’d never been able to control – and stared Taehyung and Jimin down in a disbelieving silence.

“I’m sorry,” he said, tightly. “Let me get this straight. You think I want to screw my roommate?”

“We theorised you wanted to screw your roommate,” Jimin corrected, and honestly, Jungkook wasn’t appreciating the play-by-play assault by the two of them. “I mean. Come on Jungkook, when have you ever been interested in someone for this long?”

“Being interested in is not a phrase I would pick,” Jungkook complained, sitting up in his seat. “I’m annoyed by, irritated, irked by, it goes on. I’m not interested.”

Taehyung hummed, and inspected his nails. “You never stop talking about him.”

“About my issues with him,” Jungkook countered, feeling his hackles rise. “Which I think is okay to air to you guys!”

“Oh, definitely,” Jimin agreed. “It would be your typical, loathing roommate scenario if it weren’t for the underlying sexual tension. Like just now in the kitchen.”

“When I said it was my dinner he’d taken out of the microwave…?”

“Yes, exactly,” Taehyung said. “You were all, you know … Close to one another. Your pupils were blown. Either you were going to fight, or kiss.”

“Except for the part where he just left the kitchen and I left him alone,” Jungkook argued. “You guys have been watching too many kdramas. This isn’t that.”

“Oh!” Jimin jolted up from his position on the beanbag, looking struck. “That reminds me. What was the name of the actor from the one we were watching the other day? Fallen Petals?

“Looking it up,” Taehyung announced, picking up his phone and beginning to type.

“I’m not drunk enough for this conversation,” Jungkook muttered, and signalled for Jimin to pass him a beer, which he did, with the added luxury of uncapping the lid before he handed it to Jungkook.

“Can’t forget about our real purpose for being here,” Jimin grinned, raising his half-drunk bottle in tandem with Jungkook. “Drinking and helping Jungkook realise he wants to screw his roommate.”

Jungkook, who’d taken a swig from his bottle, presently spat it out all over himself, making his white shirt see-through. Ugh. He grabbed a tea towel from the kitchen he knew Yoongi had allocated as for water spills only and took great pleasure in using it to dab the beer off his body before he tossed it to one side.

“You guys seem more obsessed with this than me, in fairness,” he said, once he’d returned to his seat on the sofa and could successfully swallow his beer. “You said you’ve talked about it.”

“It’s a hot topic,” Taehyung shrugged. “Oh! Seo Ha-joon, that’s him.”

“Just dreamy,” Jimin sighed, craning to look. “But, okay, Jungkook. I’ll level with you here. Do you remember first year of college, that guy in our creative writing seminar?”

“Park … Hae-jin, something like that. Yeah, I remember him.”

“You remember how I couldn’t stand the guy?” Jimin pressed, with more articulating than was probably necessary, given that he had a bottle of beer in one hand still. “He was loud for the sake of it, he got on everyone’s nerves, he was deliberately unhelpful with feedback … You get the idea.”

“Yes,” Jungkook sighed, remembering a particular occasion where he’d been paired up with the guy to evaluate one another’s work and got It’s good, but it didn’t grip me in response. “All too well.”

“Well, I ended up fucking him one weekend,” Jimin said plainly, enough to trigger another sputtering attack from Jungkook who, luckily, hadn’t taken a drink at that moment. Jimin saw his confession had had the desired effect and made a Now you know gesture. “I didn’t like the guy,” he added as clarification, “But I was attracted to him, and part of the anger I felt towards him was fuelled by that attraction.”

Taehyung twisted around in his seat to look at Jimin, attention diverted from his phone. “Wait, you actually did fuck him? I thought you were kidding.”

Jimin shook his head, a little nostalgic smile on his face. “Nothing to kid about that guy’s oral abilities, oh my god.”

Taehyung said “Fair enough”, at the same time Jungkook said “Too much information”.

“That doesn’t make sense to me. Why would you screw someone you don’t like?”

“I don’t know, Jungkook, you tell me,” Jimin replied, staring him on. “Tell me honestly. You don’t think your roommate’s hot? At all?”

“I think he’s hot,” Taehyung supplied, raising a hand. “If we were going for audience participation.”

Jungkook gave it some thought. It was hard to assess, initially, because Yoongi rarely left his room, and when he did, he was cloaked by big, heavy sweatshirts and beanies he pulled onto his hair. But on the occasions Jungkook had seen his face, properly seen his face, he’d thought Yoongi was pretty, kitten-like. Before Yoongi opened his mouth, and the illusion was ruined.

“Okay, yes. I do think he’s attractive. That doesn’t mean I want to screw him.”

Jimin shrugged, irritatingly aloof. “That’s up for you to decide Jungkook, I’ve just said what I see.”

“Your vision’s all wrong,” Jungkook retaliated, but there was no heat behind it. Jimin passed him another beer which he finished in quick succession, and things got kind of hazy from there, as Taehyung discovered a playlist they all liked and put it on, made chatty by the alcohol and good music, talking about everything into the late hours.




Jimin and Taehyung had long gone by the time Jungkook wobbled into the bathroom, but he’d only just successfully peeled himself off the sofa after drunkenly scrolling through Instagram and leaving punctuated comments on Jimin and Taehyung’s posts. He was, if nothing, a supportive drunk friend.

Navigating the bathroom drunk wasn’t unfamiliar to Jungkook, but it happened sporadically enough for him to make the same mistakes – tripping over the shower mat, dropping his toothbrush down the side of the sink – slowing down the whole process of getting ready for bed considerably. But Jungkook never forgot of the time he went to bed with beer breath and didn’t brush his teeth. It was like something sewer-like had crawled into his mouth and died when he woke up the next day.

He wasn’t being as subtle as he thought, it transpired, because he faintly heard the squeak of door hinges from Yoongi’s room – and then Yoongi had materialised by the doorway in a trippy, unregistered series of events. Jungkook blinked, and the blurred image of Yoongi righted itself.

“Do you have to do that now,” Yoongi snapped, making Jungkook wonder what time it was. He had no indication, but he guessed early.

“Sorry,” he said, because at least he knew when to own up to his mistakes. “Forgot to … brush my teeth. Yeah. Don’t want bad breath.” He went to grab his toothbrush from the pot but saw it had disappeared. Where…?

“Oh my God,” Yoongi said, and swore quietly. He brushed past Jungkook to pick up something off the floor, and then was presenting Jungkook with his toothbrush. “Here, idiot.”

The image of Yoongi dangling Jungkook his toothbrush with an impatient look on his face, condescension dripping from his voice, was too much for Jungkook. He was maybe being a bit of a drunken idiot right now, but it didn’t warrant Yoongi treating him like some small child. He took the toothbrush and didn’t say anything.

“You don’t have to be an asshole, you know,” Jungkook muttered, scrabbling for the toothpaste. “People hang out and drink on a Friday night? It happens?”

“Yeah, I’m aware,” Yoongi retorted. “I’m sure jocks like you do this all the time. It’s a great look, really.”

Jungkook got the toothpaste squirted on his toothbrush and wheeled around to face Yoongi, whose expression was murderous at this point. Jungkook felt a flicker of anger in response.

“Jocks like me? Really?”

“I’m sorry, do you not play for the college team? I thought that was obvious, with your massive muscles and crazy party lifestyle and general idiocy.”

“I do a creative writing course,” Jungkook said flatly, anger creeping into his voice as he stared Yoongi down. “But thanks for generalising.”

There was a flicker of misapprehension across Yoongi’s face, but it was quickly replaced by the general murderous look from before. “I’m not sorry. You act like a dumb jock.”

“Fill me in,” Jungkook said, trying not to snap, throwing his hands out. “I’d love to hear what you think of me, finally, after skulking around corners and trying to steal my food.”

Trying to steal your food -?” Yoongi took a step forward, his eyes blazing. “That’s exactly why I think you’re a dumb jock. You think everything revolves around you.”

Jungkook stepped forward, equally driven. “And you won’t let me live in an apartment I rent, too. It’s not your apartment, and it’s okay to not clean up immediately after every meal!”

“That’s just good manners,” Yoongi hissed.

“You’re such an asshole,” Jungkook emphasised, and wheeled back around to turn on the tap – except the tap decided not to play ball, and sprayed Jungkook with a high-powered blast that aimed directly at his chest, splashing onto his face. Coughing, he managed to turn it off before he got completely soaked, but for the second time that evening, his white shirt got wet.

“Landlord’s a dick, too,” Yoongi muttered once the tap had been dealt with. “Won’t fix the tap.” And then, begrudgingly: “You need a towel?”

Jungkook glanced down at his chest, a tanned expanse of skin clinging to his wet shirt, exposing the hard stomach he’d worked pretty hard to get and his nipples, which were poking through. He looked up, at Yoongi, and realised Yoongi’s eyes had followed him too. Yoongi was sporting the same blush as Jimin earlier, except Jimin had been three beers in and Yoongi was sober.

“They were right,” Jungkook blurted, and stopped himself from saying more, like: We do want to screw each other. Yoongi’s pupils were completely blown, before he became aware of himself and shook himself out of it, scowling at Jungkook.

“Clean yourself up,” he threw at Jungkook, promptly exiting the bathroom, who stood there as his brain, which wasn’t working too well in his current state, slowly tried to process what had happened.

Jimin and Taehyung had a way of being irritatingly right.




“I want you to know this hurts me to say,” Jungkook declared, as he took the remaining seat of the table Jimin and Taehyung were sitting at, coffee in hand. “But I think I want to screw my roommate.” He punctuated that by slinging his backpack on the floor, inadvertently hitting a student who was waiting in line for a coffee and winced in apology.

“It’s just like the kdramas,” Taehyung said in a put-on dreamy voice, propping his head up with his hands. He grinned at Jungkook. “So what made you realise it? Was it when you were staring into one another’s eyes?”

“Over the microwave?” Jimin inputted.

“It was last night, yes,” Jungkook confirmed. Jimin and Taehyung exchanged a look he couldn’t read, prompting him to add: “I’m not in on your guys’ telepathy. What’s going on?”

“Running bet,” Taehyung confessed. “And thanks to that, Jimin now owes me money.”

“I don’t have any on me,” Jimin said, seemingly innocent, but a nudge from Taehyung and he was handing over a wad of notes with a sigh, which Taehyung accepted gleefully.

“A bet. Why do I bother telling you two things?”

“Because you value our treasured insight,” Jimin said, having already bounced back from the surrender of his money. “Which is better than we thought, apparently, because I bet you’d realise you were into Yoongi-ssi within the week; Taehyung bet the very next day.”

“Which Jimin thought was ludicrous, I want the class to know,” Taehyung leaned over to say, triumphantly. “I knew you had it in you Jungkookie.”

“So!” Jimin clapped his hands together, drawing a few looks from those around them in the café. “You want to screw your roommate. What’s next?”

Jungkook tried drinking his coffee, and effectively burned his tongue. While he was nursing it, Taehyung said, “That would make a great self-help title. Really help some people with their demons.”

“Or just one person, Jeon Jungkook.”

“There’s no next step,” Jungkook said, it coming out muffled. His tongue felt like it had swelled up in his mouth. “I’m not going to do anything about it. Why should I?”

“To relieve the tension?” Taehyung suggested through a mouthful of doughnut, causing Jungkook to grimace and Jimin to look at him fondly. That explained why they’d lived until this point in college together and why Jungkook, steadfastly, did not move in with them. Taehyung swallowed what looked to be a disproportionate amount of doughnut. “If you’re not going to move out, then have sex with him, relieve the tension, and voila. Life is easier.”

“And if things get more complicated?” Jungkook asked, because he was forever having to point out the flaws in their schemes.

“Then you move out for good,” Jimin emphasised.

And if he’s not into me?” Which probably wasn’t that serious of a question, remembering last night.

“Then you move out from the shame. It’s a win-win scenario.”

Jungkook crossed his arms, waiting for his coffee to cool, and spent equal amounts of time studying Jimin and Taehyung, sat across from the table from him. They looked pretty sincere, and if Jimin was speaking from experience like he said ...

“I can’t possibly be doing this,” Jungkook groaned, resisting putting his head in his hands. “I can’t be listening to you guys!”

“Learned experience,” Jimin said. “If you’re going to seduce him, you have to know what he likes.”

Jungkook thought back to the dumb jock comment from last night, which, in retrospect, did sting a little. He took a creative writing course, was well-read, and, overall, resented being reduced to a remark that said he was well-built and nothing else.

“I know he likes my body,” Jungkook said finally. “But also hates me for it?”

“Context,” Jimin urged.

“He said last night that I was a dumb jock. I was muscular and partied too hard. But my shirt got wet and he didn’t stop staring for a bit. So?”

Silence. The sound of Taehyung chowing down on another doughnut.

“He resents your attitude or overall vibe,” Taehyung said slowly with another full mouth, “But he finds you hot.”

“My vibe being?”

“I guess because you’re big,” Jimin explained. “Not big big,” he amended. “But you work out. Take care of your body. I guess Yoongi-ssi thought you were just a meathead and all arrogant and stuff.”

You have to show him you’re not,” Taehyung added, with way too much vigour for Jungkook’s liking. They were enjoying this, advising him on how best to seduce his roommate – which, thinking on it, was an incredibly bizarre hypothetical and Jungkook couldn’t believe he’d entertained it this far.

“I’m not trying to woo him here. I don’t like him that much, either. He’s too demanding and he thinks he’s better than me, apparently because I take care of my body.”

Or he’s resentful because he finds you so attractive in spite of how much you guys clash,” Taehyung said. “Just think about it.”

Jungkook gingerly took a sip of his coffee, which had cooled down enough for him to enjoy. “It would definitely be easier to move out,” he reflected, but was already thinking about Yoongi’s rounded nose and pinked lips, his big hands and long legs which he hid under jeans and felt something stirring in his stomach that felt a lot like arousal. Fuck, this was a bad idea.




Ironically, Jungkook didn’t get an opportunity to prove to Yoongi that his whole character couldn’t and shouldn’t be reduced to dumb jock for a while after his coffee talk with Jimin and Taehyung. Jungkook kept returning with freshly bought doughnuts from the college campus café until, three days later, Yoongi happened to be home and Jungkook could present them to him.

Jungkook had been trying to rehearse how it would go in his head – Here, I got your doughnuts or should it be, Here, asshole, doughnuts? – when, paper bag in hand, he barged into the apartment with such force his bucket hat came off his head, and saw Yoongi with a few others in the living room. Yoongi with actual, living others in their shared apartment was cause enough for Jungkook to gawk, but he was trying to seduce, so he recovered quickly, picked up his hat from the floor and held out the bag.

“I got you. Uh. Doughnuts?”

“That’s a question?” Yoongi asked. He looked different today. He wasn’t swaddled in black clothing, for one – he had on jeans which were, okay, maybe pretty tight, and a threadbare jumper that exposed a patch of his collarbone – and he looked more alive. He didn’t have a beanie on, exposing crimped, black hair that sat delicately on his head. Yoongi had hair?

“It’s not a question,” Jungkook said, touchily, and blushed angrily, because already Yoongi had got under his skin and the effort he’d made was looking ludicrous. “I got you doughnuts. Take them before I regret this.” He flapped the bag, and Yoongi got up from his seat to take them, his fingers inadvertently brushing against Jungkook, who tried not to jerk at the touch.

“My friend likes them,” Jungkook explained. “Wastes his money on them. I thought you might like them.” It was gruff, and it was awkward, and there were a few beats of Jungkook staring at Yoongi who was staring back, looking unnerved. “Okay, so I’m gonna go, uh –“

“Thanks for the doughnuts,” Yoongi said quickly, turning around to go back to his seat so Jungkook couldn’t see his expression. Instead, Jungkook glanced at the other guys he was with, two of whom eerily reminded Jungkook of Jimin and Taehyung with their inquisitive, knowing glances. Were he and Yoongi living the same lives and didn’t know it yet?

“You’ve got company, so I can just –“

“You’re welcome to stay,” one of the guys called from the living room. Yoongi jerked like he’d been hit in the face but didn’t say anything. Jungkook hovered, torn between trying to make some leeway on the seduce Yoongi plan, and not wanting to do any more damage to how stupid he was looking. Ultimately, he walked into the living room and didn’t move.

“It’s nice to meet you finally,” the first guy said, with an angular face and pronounced smile. He was wearing what Jungkook thought was streetwear – ripped jeans and a Supreme shirt, underneath a patterned denim jacket – and reminded him of a dancing major. “Yoongi-hyung’s told us a lot.” It was said with a reassuring smile, but if Jungkook’s chats with Jimin and Taehyung about Yoongi were any indication, they hadn’t been told good things. He was sat next to the second guy, who was incredibly pretty, smiling with a glossy, pink mouth and eyes with lashes so dark it made Jungkook wonder absentmindedly if he was wearing makeup.

Jungkook sat down next to the third guy, who was next to Yoongi –Jungkook was within a metre of Yoongi and they hadn’t murdered each other, so things were going okay.

“Yoongi told us you’re a creative writing student?” the third guy asked. He had an equally approachable face, with a crinkly smile and dimpled cheeks. “I’m Namjoon, by the way, and that’s Hoseok, and Jin.” Hoseok and Jin waved.

“Nice to meet you,” Jungkook said easily. He’d told Yoongi about his course for the first time ever four days ago, which meant Yoongi had already spoken about him to his friends in the course of the last four days. Jungkook would have felt flattered if he wasn’t keenly aware of Yoongi’s hatred. “Yeah, I’m in my second year. It’s pretty challenging but I’ve always wanted to do it.”

Hoseok made a sound of acknowledgement. “I know what you mean. Dancing major myself” – Jungkook took the time to congratulate his guess –“And after five years there’s been times where I’ve wanted to quit, but I don’t know what else I’d do, honestly.”

“Which would be a mistake,” Namjoon said gently, and a look passed between them. Jungkook was startled at how much they reminded him of his own friends: the joking exchanges mingled with the sincere compliments. He looked over at Yoongi, who had an unreadable expression on his face, like exasperation, or fondness. Jungkook kind of understood.

“What about you, Jungkook-ssi?” Jin asked, slicing through the intimate moment. “Why did you choose to study here? Or – I should say, why did you choose to live with our resident grump?” He grinned, playfully. Jungkook liked the guy.

Jungkook shifted in his seat. The answer to the first question was simple, the second question … Not so much. He decided to answer honestly and filter out any details that would allude to his and Yoongi’s mutual dislike of one another (and their attraction, a small voice in his head reminded him).

“I liked the course advertised here, but with how prestigious the college is… I honestly didn’t think I’d get in. I applied with my best friends, and the day we all found out we got in we celebrated. A little too hard, maybe,” he admitted sheepishly, thinking back to how much they drank and smoked, in a perpetual state of uncontrollable excitement. “As for living arrangements, I thought it would be a good idea to meet someone new.” And presently, he met Yoongi.

Hoseok tutted. “I’m sorry if Yoongi-hyung’s given you a hard time. Namjoon-ah and I have had our own difficulties living with him. But he makes up for it in his own ways. He’s a great cook, for instance.”

Jungkook’s brows knitted together. “Yoongi-ssi … Cooks?” He looked at Yoongi, who’d gone a delicate shade of pink.

“He hasn’t cooked for you!” Hoseok cried. “That’s a crime. He’ll definitely have to do it for you sometime, right, hyung? Almost rivals Jin-hyung’s cooking.” The Jin in question rolled his eyes noticeably.

“Yeah, he’s been coming for my crown for a while,” he said bemused, propping up his chin with a hand. “I’m sure if Yoongi didn’t sleep all the time, he could.” Hoseok elbowed him, and Jin laughed.

“I’ve been busy,” Yoongi mumbled, not responding to Jin’s jab. Namjoon was keenly watching him.

“I hope you haven’t been living on microwaveable food alone,” Namjoon warned. Yoongi didn’t respond.

“He doesn’t look after himself,” Hoseok scolded, pinching Yoongi’s cheek, who batted him away in quick succession. It was a vulnerable aspect of Yoongi Jungkook hadn’t seen before – usually, when Yoongi was embarrassed, he got angry in double-quick time. Unless that was a cover-up. Or, unless he reserved rage for Jungkook.

There was the sound of rustling in the silence, as Yoongi broke open into the bag of doughnuts without saying much. He licked his fingers after every bite, an action that made Jungkook equal-parts irritated, and equal-parts hot. It didn’t seem fair, that he had such a poor rapport with Yoongi and found him so attractive at the same time. Namjoon, Hoseok and Jin – all these people – got along with Yoongi fine; why didn’t Jungkook? Couldn’t he magically get along with Yoongi and then the wanting to screw him part wouldn’t be so bad?

“If you ever need to escape this guy just let us know,” Hoseok nudged him, his voice laced with light-hearted teasing. “We’d be happy to host. We live just across the way.” He pointed out of Jungkook’s apartment window, to another apartment block not so far away.

“Been trying to move out for years,” Jin sighed, with a wink in Jungkook’s direction. “Rent’s cheap though.”

“Wait.” Jungkook stilled. “That one just over there?” Hoseok nodded. Jungkook was beginning to get unsettled at how similar his and Yoongi’s lives were. “My best friends live there; you might know them. Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung?”

“Not that I can think of,” Namjoon said. “But we’d love to have you guys over, any time. Especially if you bring doughnuts, right hyung?”

Yoongi mumbled something inaudible, licking the last of the sugar off his fingers. Jungkook made the mistake of meeting his eyes then, because he saw Yoongi’s pupils dilate, not dissimilar from when they were in close proximity in the bathroom four days ago. Jungkook kind of wanted to put Yoongi’s fingers in his mouth, which was a weird thought, because Jungkook didn’t usually go for actions of submission like that. He normally craved the control, the rush he got from having someone pinned under him, at his whim. Yoongi was staring back at him in a way that said he wanted to put his fingers in Jungkook’s mouth, too, which was dangerous.

“Yeah! Um,” Jungkook cleared his throat, trying to shake himself out of the stupor he’d fallen into. “Yeah that sounds good. Maybe Yoongi-ssi can cook,” he said this indirectly, but he saw Yoongi out of the corner of his eye, unscrupulous.

“I like how you think,” Jin told him.




Jungkook let Jimin and Taehyung know of the plans that had formed in the good few hours he’d spent with Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi, which was mostly spent with Hoseok and Namjoon coaxing conversation out of Jungkook while Yoongi kept giving him heated looks. Jungkook was kind of surprised they hadn’t kissed after that – it’d been leading up to it. Namjoon and Hoseok left, and then it was just Jungkook and Yoongi, facing the fact that they’d had their first, proper amicable interaction, and all of a sudden, they were sat too close and Jungkook’s skin was prickling.

He’d turned, to look at Yoongi, and there was this long, weighty silence where they were both aware of how much they wanted one another – Yoongi swallowed, and Jungkook tracked the bob of his throat, wanting to kiss his neck – but Yoongi shifted away, making an excuse as to why he had to leave, and Jungkook was left sitting on the sofa half-hard and baffled.

Party/gathering at Hoseok’s this weekend. You guys are coming, he sent Jimin and Taehyung once he was in his bedroom, not expecting an immediate response.

Who’s Hoseok???? Taehyung texted back.

Friend of Yoongi’s. Met him today

We’re going to need more information, was Jimin’s response, and Jungkook was in the middle of articulating one, explaining everything that had happened today, when there was frantic knocking on the door. There was no sign of movement from Yoongi’s room, so Jungkook answered it, and Jimin and Taehyung barrelled in.

“Sorry we’re late,” Taehyung said breathlessly, chest heaving. “We stopped downstairs to get snacks,” and held up a supersize bag of crisps and several packs of dried seaweed.

“You guys are relentless,” Jungkook said, shaking his head, but gestured for them to pile into his room, which they did, sprawling out across his tiny single. Jungkook sidestepped a stack of notes he’d left to fester in the corner and joined them.

“It’s what you love about us,” Jimin pointed, already fishing through the supersize bag and crunching. “So, we came for information. What happened?”

“Nothing to phone home about. I came back to give Yoongi-ssi the doughnuts –“

“So it’s Yoongi-ssi now, interesting,” Taehyung quipped, also rummaging through the bag, looking comical as both he and Jimin had a hand in the bag. “Go on.”

“I came back to give him the doughnuts,” Jungkook repeated, “Except he had a couple of friends over. I was going to leave, but they invited me to hang out with them.”

Jimin and Taehyung shared a telling look.

“If they’re anything like us,” Jimin said through a mouthful of crisps, spraying crumbs all over Jungkook’s bed, “Then they were definitely setting you and Yoongi-ssi up.”

Jungkook wanted to deny it but was inclined to agree. Their dynamic reminded him so much of Jimin and Taehyung’s that it made sense for their motives to be the same. “I have Hoseok-ssi’s contact details, so I can always refuse the invite I guess.” He got out his phone, which suddenly had a hand slapped onto it.

“We need to think this through,” Jimin said seriously. “Why don’t you want to go?”

“Pros,” Taehyung ticked off his fingers, “You get to know Yoongi-ssi better and potentially bridge the gaping gap between you two. Plus, you get to know his friends which seem pretty cool. Cons –“

“Cons, I fail at getting to know Yoongi-ssi better, subsequently severing my ties with him and his friends, which makes any time they come around extremely awkward.”

“You’ve got such a pessimistic way of thinking, Jungkook-ah,” Jimin clucked his tongue. “Worst case scenario you don’t manage to mend things with Yoongi-ssi, but you get to know his friends, who seem cool enough to have invited you. And they know him well, so they might be able to help you.”

“This was meant to be a seduction plan,” Jungkook said helplessly. “I’m not trying to woo the guy. I’m just trying to make my life a little easier.”

“Which shouldn’t be too hard, because you can be pretty charming when you want to be,” Taehyung quipped, and offered Jungkook the bag, which he accepted, mulling things over as he bit into a crisp. “Again, I don’t see the hang-up. If you’re not trying to romance the guy, what do you have to worry about? Just dress nice and smile lots.”

“I always dress nice and smile lots,” Jungkook argued, sparing a glance at his ever-increasing pile of unwashed clothes. “I don’t know. I’m probably worrying for nothing.  Before you guys got here, we almost kissed on the sofa.”

“You owe me money again,” Taehyung sung song in Jimin’s direction, who handed it over wordlessly. “Sorry Kook. Sometimes you have to capitalise on your startling powers of prophesy.”

“Pure luck,” Jimin shot back, but Taehyung wouldn’t have it.

“Nope, I just have a better grasp on the situation.”

“If you guys could fill me in, that’d be pretty great,” Jungkook said, feeling increasingly like whatever this was, was spiralling out of his control. Jimin looked at him, softened.

“That’s kind of for you to work out, Jungkook,” he said gently. “What you’ve said is you can’t stand the guy, but you’re attracted to him. Has anything changed?”

Jungkook shrugged, an offhand gesture that made it seem like he wasn’t going to say anything, but he did. “I don’t know. He never has friends over. Seeing him today, it was like … How have things gone so badly between us?” He picked at a loose thread on his sheets and watched it unravel, feeling a lot like that thread. He thought back to the first time he’d moved in – he didn’t see Yoongi for a week, and when he finally did, Yoongi was all tired and snippy. Some welcome, he’d thought, and it had really progressed from there, learning just how much they hated about one another.

“Sometimes personalities clash and people don’t mesh well,” Jimin offered, not unkindly, because he could see the seed of self-doubt sprouting in Jungkook, making him wonder if all this had been his fault. “But it’s never too late to mend stuff – I mean, he is your roommate. How fun is it living with someone you hate?”

“Probably better than living in your love nest,” Jungkook joked, trying to pull him out of it. Jimin and Taehyung’s faces showed mock offence.

“Too fair,” Taehyung whined. “Maybe we won’t come to Hoseok-ssi’s party.”

“No please come,” Jungkook gabbled. “I’m going to need the back-up.”




What had been labelled a gathering quickly transpired as a full-blown party, as the three of them approached an open apartment that was evidently Hoseok’s, as people streamed in and out, the floor shaking with bass-heavy music.

“Okay, I put my hands up to this,” Jungkook said, and stopped metres from the doorway. He sidestepped someone who was doing a running crouch, looking like they were about to throw up. “Not a gathering. So I’ll go –“ he turned, and Jimin and Taehyung were blocking his way. “It’s like Thing 1 and Thing 2 with you guys,” Jungkook complained. He tugged at the collar of the leather jacket he’d thrown on, which retrospectively, had been a mistake, because the sweat was making it stick to his skin.

“Come on,” Jimin gave him a gentle push. “It’s not like you’ve never been to a college party.”

“Not the point,” Jungkook grumbled, but headed inside, to a darkened room that was lit by a smattering of lamps, giving the overall aura of party, not gathering. The apartment wasn’t much bigger than Jungkook’s, but it was certainly more cramped, as people hung out in swathes, leaned over furniture or making drinks in the kitchen, kissing feverishly against walls and emerging from bedrooms with reddened eyes.

Jungkook hovered, not knowing what to do, when he saw Hoseok coming towards them, beaming, Jin in tow.

“Okay, cute,” Taehyung muttered behind him, like he wasn’t looking incredible in a satin shit and tight jeans, equally sultry as Jimin, who’d smoked out his eyes to match his lace shirt. Sometimes Jungkook forgot about how hot they were.

“Jungkook! You came,” Hoseok said once he was within earshot, which wasn’t saying much, because he had to lean into Jungkook’s space and shout.

“Nice, uh, gathering,” Jungkook said, the implication obvious in his voice. Hoseok grinned, good-naturedly.

“It’s been a while since a big blow-out, so I thought, why not? Hopefully I don’t lose my deposit, but it’s got a bit out of hand.” As if on cue, someone nearby tripped over a discarded plastic cup and went down like a sack of bricks. Hoseok winced. 

“Watch out for the cups,” Jin inputted helpfully. “Do you guys want a drink?”

“You could show me where,” Taehyung cut in, like a switch had been flipped and he was batting his eyes, ever so slightly. Jin blinked, but smiled easily, and led them over to the kitchen, where Namjoon already was. Hoseok saw Namjoon and promptly forgot about the rest of them.

“We’ve got beer for the easier stuff, spirits for the harder. Mixers too. Whichever takes your fancy. I can make you a drink?”

“Sounds good,” Taehyung almost purred. Jungkook accepted a beer which Jin handed him personally, but only gave a few, half-hearted sips. Any plans he had of speaking to Yoongi personally had been scuppered – but that shouldn’t have mattered, because he was still in a room of energised, excited people. He took a few more sips but put his beer down to join Jimin and Taehyung in the swell of dancing people, finding it easy and familiar to surrender himself to the music, rivulets of sweat running down his neck from the effort.

At some point Jin was coerced into dancing with them, which he did a little self-consciously – Jungkook privately thought that was stupid, with how gorgeous he was – and things took an entirely different direction, because Taehyung was dancing close to him, their shoulders brushing, and Jimin and Jungkook had the sense to turn away, to leave Taehyung to it.

“I’m gonna find the bathroom,” Jungkook shouted to Jimin, needing to cool off. Jimin nodded vaguely, but didn’t look like he’d really heard, a picture as he tilted his head back and shut his eyes, drawing people to him with his magnetism.

Getting to the bathroom proved more challenging than Jungkook realised, as he weaved through crowds of people who either didn’t hear him over the music or didn’t want to, till he finally arrived at the bathroom door tired from the venture. He leaned against the door, feeling the cold press of it against his hot neck, relieved for it. When he opened his eyes, he saw a couple of people looking in his direction, a guy and a girl, talking behind cupped hands. He gave a lazy smile but didn’t follow up on it. He hadn’t really come here to hook up, but he hadn’t come here to chase Yoongi either, so there wasn’t any point searching for him through the crowds. It was likely wasted energy.

At some point the bathroom door opened up and Jungkook staggered inside, mumbling an apology to the person who’d been in there, who gave him a drunken once-over but smiled. He shut the door to the rest of the party and the song that was playing became muffled, along with the noise of people talking, although he could feel the thrum of the bass through the floor and sensed the outpouring of energy just outside the door.

He wasn’t long in there before there was an insistent rapping on the door, followed by a rattling of the door handle.

“One sec,” he called, splashing his face with water to cool down. There was a moment’s pause and the rattling was starting up again, managing to find a way to convey impatience through a closed door. “One sec!” Jungkook repeated and heaved a sigh when the rattling resumed. It was the nature of a party he supposed – people got drunk and suddenly, the bathroom became the most vied-for spot. He swung open the door, frustrated.

“Bathroom’s all yours,” he snapped, to a bewildered Yoongi. It was the last person he’d expected to see, inches from his face, and also the person Jungkook expected this from. “It was occupied,” Jungkook said impatiently. “Could you not see?”

“In this light?” Yoongi squinted at him, and it was enough for Jungkook to prickle with irritation, like that was all it took for Jungkook to know Yoongi was going to fiercely oppose whatever he said.

“Maybe when the door didn’t open you could have thought, I don’t know, that someone was in there?”

“I have to use the bathroom,” Yoongi said brusquely, disengaging altogether, and barged past Jungkook. It was a brief brush, but it mad Jungkook mad all the same. He spun around and stared at Yoongi, anger enunciating every word.

“I don’t know why you feel the need to act like this, but I was just using the bathroom. You could have waited.”

“The lock jams sometimes,” Yoongi said, staring back at Jungkook like he was the idiot. “But you wouldn’t know that.”

“I can’t stand you,” Jungkook seethed, and then Yoongi was in his space, facing him off. “You’re such a dick.”

“You’re no better.”


“You can stay and watch me piss if you really want, but I don’t care either way.” Yoongi reached past Jungkook to close the door, muffling the music again. Exchange was playing in the background, and it seemed to match the atmosphere around them, the sexually charged nature of it.

“Dick,” Jungkook said, and then he was stooping down to kiss Yoongi, who made a small, surprised sound but was kissing Jungkook back, doubly fiercely. Jungkook bit down on Yoongi’s lip, rougher than normal, and Yoongi’s mouth opened in a gasp that went straight to Jungkook’s dick, made him crowd Yoongi against the wall while they kissed each other like they were ravenous.

“You’re such a dick,” Yoongi gasped when they broke for air, clutching at the lapels of Jungkook’s leather jacket tightly, while Jungkook kissed his way down the pale column of Yoongi’s neck precisely like he’d wanted to several nights ago. It was better than imagined, unbelievably hot, as Jungkook felt the rapid pulse of Yoongi’s heartbeat through his neck, the warmth of his skin, accompanied by the little, cut-off gasps Yoongi kept sounding out. Jungkook slotted a leg in between Yoongi’s thighs, commanding, and Yoongi just let him, much more pliant than Jungkook realised he’d be.

“Don’t act like you haven’t thought about this too,” Jungkook said, mouthing at Yoongi’s neck, feeling the impulse to suck Yoongi’s skin into his mouth and leave a nice, bright hickey that Yoongi couldn’t ignore. “You’ve been on my mind for too long and it’s not really fair.”

He saw, out of the periphery of his vision, Yoongi’s eyes flutter shut at that remark – he looked obscene, baring his neck for Jungkook to bite, his eyes closed, his mouth incredibly pink and kissable. It reminded Jungkook that they’d only just been making out, moments ago, and prompted him to put his mouth on Yoongi’s. His mouth was soft, and it kind of drove Jungkook crazy, made him press his body closer to Yoongi’s, definitely growing hard against the denim of his jeans.

If he wasn’t mistaken, he could feel Yoongi hard against his leg too. He wanted Jungkook, he wanted him here, and it was all accumulating so quickly Jungkook’s head was spinning. He had to break, just to give himself time to think, surprised at how hot Yoongi made him.

“What?” Yoongi asked, studying him. He was looking flushed and kiss swollen. “You don’t want this anymore?”

“I do,” Jungkook said quickly, and regretted it immediately after, because Yoongi smiled at that, at the power Jungkook had just given him. “It’s just happening pretty quickly.”

“We could always go slow,” Yoongi suggested, smoothing his hands over Jungkook’s shoulder, travelling down to his sides, where he was most sensitive, making Jungkook squirm. “If it gets too much.”

It was a pointed comment, one designed to rile Jungkook up, and it worked. They kissed again, underpinned by the charge running through the two of them, the mutual dislike and attraction making it much hotter. Jungkook finally understood what Jimin meant – maybe not so much about it being a way to resolve the dislike, but the heat of it, enough to make Jungkook sweat under his jacket and throw it off. Yoongi’s hands roamed, just a layer of clothing between them and Jungkook’s bare chest. They stopped just by the waistline of Jungkook’s jeans, and his dick throbbed, wanting.

“Can I?” Yoongi murmured into Jungkook’s mouth. 

“Fuck, oh my God, yes you can,” Jungkook keened, grabbing clumsy handfuls of Yoongi’s ass, digging in hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises. Yoongi kissed him smoothly while his hands made quick work of Jungkook’s belt and his jeans, which dropped down and Jungkook felt cool air on his legs. He shivered, though whether that was a product of the cool air or Yoongi’s hands, which were pretty good, as it turned out, Jungkook didn’t know.

Yoongi stopped kissing Jungkook long enough to drop to his knees – which was one image Jungkook was certain would remain ingrained in his mind, Yoongi’s plush, pink mouth and kittenish eyes which looked to be lined with black, gazing up at Jungkook as his hands worked at pulling Jungkook’s underwear down.

The silence was punctuated by Jungkook’s heavy breathing, his chest heaving, staring at Yoongi glassily almost unable to believe this was happening – and, at the same time, able to believe it, because this was the product of the build-up of sexual tension for a good, long week. He tried to keep his legs from trembling when Yoongi took Jungkook’s dick out, but it was pretty hard, and even harder when Yoongi wrapped an expert hand around him.

Jungkook’s dick started leaking pre-cum as if on command. He would have blushed if he wasn’t so turned on.

“Bigger than I thought,” Yoongi mused, beginning to jack Jungkook off in Hoseok’s bathroom of all places. “I couldn’t really imagine your size. I tried, but it was hard.” He peered up at Jungkook through his lashes, casually speaking about Jungkook’s dick like it was any other normal topic, the weather, or college work. Jungkook, who’d being biting down on his lip to prevent himself from making a sound, actively groaned when Yoongi did something with his wrist that sent a thrill of pleasure through Jungkook’s body.

“I tried thinking about it late at night,” Yoongi continued, drawling in a way that made Jungkook’s head buzz. “When I wanted to jerk off. It really helped.”

“You jerked off thinking about me?” Jungkook asked, breathless. His legs felt like they were going to buckle – Yoongi was jerking him off in an easy, languid way that was much better than anything Jungkook could have done, presenting Jungkook with the image of him masturbating with Jungkook in mind. It was too much. He felt the familiar feeling of an orgasm climb within him.

“It was hard not to,” Yoongi admitted, and leaned in to nuzzle his nose against the base of Jungkook’s cock. He was painfully close, his breath fanning Jungkook’s erection, and Jungkook pushed his hips forward, wanting it badly. He was finding it hard to articulate thoughts, only able to feel what Yoongi could do with his hand and hear the wet, sloppy sound of Yoongi working him over. “Better than I thought, too,” Yoongi said, and opened his mouth to take Jungkook in, sucking him into wet, warm heat that sent Jungkook’s senses into overdrive.

Jungkook couldn’t look away as Yoongi took Jungkook in deeper, watching as his dick got swallowed up and made a small dent in Yoongi’s cheek, bulging. Yoongi pressed the flat of his tongue along the underside of Yoongi’s dick and Jungkook outwardly moaned. Yoongi was drooling around him.

“Oh fuck, oh god,” he gabbled, his orgasm building rapidly. Then someone knocked on the door and said something that couldn’t be heard over the music, and Jungkook went white, surrendering himself to an orgasm that crashed over him and turned surrounding sound into a high-pitched whine. He couldn’t catch his breath for several seconds while it happened, only coming back down to Yoongi tonguing at Jungkook’s oversensitive, softening cock in his mouth. It stung.

“Stop, Yoongi, stop,” Jungkook whined, jerking his hips away from the oversensitivity.

“Hyung to you,” Yoongi merely said, lapping away the last traces of cum with a hand on Jungkook’s dick still until he’d cleaned up, and Jungkook could fumble with his underwear and jeans. Outside, someone (whoever had knocked on the door presumably) was complaining loudly. “So, you’ve got an exhibitionist streak?”

“Let’s not talk about it,” Jungkook mumbled like Yoongi hadn’t just had his cock in his mouth. With that thought, he glanced at Yoongi and realised he was still hard, straining against his jeans. “But I didn’t help you –“

“Don’t worry about it, I think I’ve got enough material to help myself,” Yoongi said in a casual, off-hand manner that threw Jungkook. “I’ll see you later,” he added once he’d adjusted himself and the erection wasn’t so obvious. He opened the door and Jungkook was left to the mercy of the person who’d been waiting (impatiently) outside. He was zoned out as they shouted at him, aggravated, trying to recollect his thoughts about what had just happened.




The overall attendance of Jungkook’s creative writing class on Monday was sorely lacking. Jimin sent him a text in the early hours of the morning – Sorry, two-day hangover it is – and Jungkook didn’t really know anyone else to go with, so he trudged into class alone and took a inconspicuous seat near the door. He’d tried to dress inconspicuously, too, wearing his largest, comfiest sweatshirt and joggers, dressed in all black.

He had his laptop out in front of him but was stuck on an empty Word page, the cursor blinking at him as his professor lectured on effective story openings. There was an assignment coming up, too, but Jungkook’s focus had been shot, since the weekend. He blamed Yoongi, and the best head he’d had in a while, in spite of the fact that Yoongi had only had Jungkook’s dick in his mouth for a short period.

Jungkook shifted in his seat. Fuck, he couldn’t get a boner in class. There were about thirty of them in total, in the entire lecture hall. People would see. He tried to think of something else – discretely texting under the table, for example.

Class is boring, he sent the group chat without preamble and didn’t expect a sudden response back. Jimin was probably holed up in his bedroom nursing the hangover of all hangovers. His phone buzzed and Jungkook was quick to put in on silent after one dirty look thrown his way from a classmate.

Sorry you’re facing it alone, the text from Jimin read. Surprised you made it to class

Big assignment coming up, remember?

Fuck. I have that to look forward to

What do you mean, you’re surprised I made it?

Thought you had a late night on Saturday ;)

Jungkook spared a glance around him, making sure his texting wasn’t too obvious, and looked back at his phone.

Not really. You guys were there longer than I was

You know what I mean. Saw Yoongi-ssi coming out of the bathroom and you weren’t long after

My secret’s out.

Jungkook gnawed on his lip, thinking. This was something he’d thought about telling Jimin and Taehyung ever since it happened before their hangovers took hold and they surrendered themselves to their apartment for the rest of the weekend. He wasn’t sure why he was hesitating about this. He had yet to deprive them of any information.

Yeah, he kind of sucked me off in the bathroom

Kind of?!?!?!?!???? The exclamation marks read a lot like Taehyung’s texting. Jungkook wouldn’t have been surprised if they were crowded around Jimin’s phone reading Jungkook’s texts together.

Okay he did. A lot


What more do you want to know?

It feels like that came out of nowhere

Before Jungkook could reply, another text came through:

Not NOWHERE nowhere. I thought you were going to try to get to know the guy more though

Yeah, at a gathering. Not a party. It was hard to find him and when I did we just got mad at each other

Which led to the inevitable sexual tension ;))))) Nice.

Can you tell Taehyung to get off your phone?

It’s a shared phone, the text read, the scandalised tone of it coming through, Besides, we’re all in this together

The only problem is I can’t stop thinking about his mouth, Jungkook typed out, and hit send before he second-guessed himself. Where do I go from here?

Is the tension still there?

Yoongi’s eyes, gazing up at Jungkook sultry and more seductive than Jungkook could hope for, as he worked Jungkook over with his mouth, spilling filthy as he told Jungkook he’d thought about Jungkook’s dick before, he’d imagined it, and now he was taking Jungkook into his mouth like it was a treat.

Yeah. Definitely

Then god speed, my friend. Do what you think is best

It wasn’t a particularly helpful remark, but it was a final one. Jungkook closed the chat and hovered over Yoongi’s contact, tempted. He’d had it ever since he moved in, but since things soured with them at a spectacularly fast rate, he’d never bothered to message. Why send a passive-aggressive text over something in the apartment that could be sent in person? And Yoongi had never texted him, so it went both ways.

Still. Maybe Jungkook could say in text what he couldn’t in person. The question was, what to say that would manage to concisely spell out how Jungkook felt? He agonised over it until he saw the time, and realised he’d wiled away half of his lecture lost in thought. Ultimately, he settled on Hi, and sent it before he could regret his decision.

Then: nothing. No acknowledgement that Yoongi had read it. There was no point to this. Jungkook stuffed his phone away with a ferocity that made a classmate shush him, which pissed him off more, because he was in the middle of something. He slouched down in his seat and waited for class to be over.




The kitchen was occupied when Jungkook returned from class, a painful hour later. The bus had been late, and from there it was a ten-minute walk to their apartment block. He entered to the smell of onion and garlic, and his mouth watered without thinking. He did a double take when he saw Yoongi was in the kitchen, dutifully chopping onion He was even wearing an apron. Yoongi owned an apron?

“You own an apron,” Jungkook said aloud. If he’d startled Yoongi, Yoongi gave no indication of it. “I’ve never seen you wear an apron. Is it borrowed?”

“I didn’t realise aprons were so interesting,” Yoongi replied in a monotonous tone Jungkook had come to attach to Yoongi, shattering the illusion. “You’ve never seen me cook.”

“Hoseok-hyung might have mentioned it,” Jungkook said casually, slinging his stuff on the floor in a way that made Yoongi frown. Jungkook didn’t really care. “But I’ve never seen you cooking in the flesh.”

Yoongi didn’t answer, chopping garlic with vigour, a sound that echoed in the silence. Evidently, Yoongi didn’t want to talk about what had happened on Saturday – that was fine by Jungkook. He stalked into his room and shut the door with more gusto than he planned.

When he re-emerged after an unsuccessful half an hour of his assignment trying to write itself, Yoongi was stir-frying finely chopped beef and kimchi, which smelled unfairly good. It drew Jungkook to the kitchen, lingering behind Yoongi who didn’t comment on Jungkook’s presence.

“The apron looks good on you,” Jungkook finally said, and saw Yoongi’s shoulders tense momentarily. He thought he’d maybe overstepped, but then Yoongi was shrugging and saying,

“It’s my best look. I can’t deny.”

Jungkook edged closer, wanting to be closer to Yoongi, driven a little stupid by Yoongi’s smell which Jungkook couldn’t pinpoint – kind of like clean soap and fresh air.

“You smell good, too,” Jungkook murmured. “Can I touch you?” He watched as Yoongi’s shoulders slumped, tension bleeding out. He issued a sigh, which sounded exasperated, but Jungkook realised was arousal, because Yoongi was saying quietly,

“Yes, please.”

He’d said yes, please, a politeness that made Jungkook’s blood roar. He couldn’t fully explain how Yoongi made him feel – just that he was close to Jungkook, cooking in a grandpa’s apron, and apparently that had been enough to make Jungkook want to fuck him. It might have had something to do with the memory of the other night, Yoongi’s artful tongue.

Jungkook stepped forward so the back of Yoongi’s body was pressed flush to his front, and, hesitantly, skimmed his hands over Yoongi’s shoulders, his sides, settling on his ass. Jungkook gave a squeeze, and Yoongi jumped, which sent a portion of food on the spoon he was using, fly across the kitchen.

“Leave it,” Jungkook said lowly, nipping at Yoongi’s exposed neck. To his surprise, Yoongi did, leaning into Jungkook, rolling his head back, giving Jungkook more access to kiss and nibble at Yoongi’s neck. “I really wanted to leave marks,” he confessed, dick growing hard against his thigh, “Wanted people to see what we had been doing in there, in public.”

“You are an exhibitionist,” Yoongi said but his voice sounded muffled, affected. “I knew it.”

“God. You’re so hot.” It almost pained Jungkook, he wanted Yoongi so badly. He was all pliant in Jungkook’s arms, and in that stupid apron that may or may not have started this all – “Can I finger you?”


“In the kitchen?” Yoongi asked.

“Uh huh,” Jungkook breathed, gently rolling his front against Yoongi. “Only if you want. Only if you say yes.”

“Jungkook,” Yoongi said, voice catching onto a moan. The way he said his name. Jungkook buried his face into the crook between Yoongi’s shoulder and neck, inhaling in his scent and trying not to grind too much against Yoongi’s ass. “Okay, yeah, you can do it. Do you have … lube?” He said the last part like lube was a dirty word, which made Jungkook laugh, and apologise after, because Yoongi angrily blushed.

“I’ll get it.” It took him all of a minute to find it – rolled under his bed, likely forgotten after the last time Jungkook fingered himself – and he took it with a condom he stashed in his pocket. He presented it to Yoongi, who was acting too stiffly for Jungkook to be into it, evading his gaze. “We don’t have to do this. If you don’t want,” echoing what Yoongi had said to him when he’d needed to slow down – it was possible Yoongi was having similar thoughts.

“I do want. Just …” Yoongi trailed off, and it was hard to reconcile this image of him with the one on Saturday, who’d been sly grins and seduction. “Just been a while,” he gruffly added.

“It’s not gonna make me want you less, hyung,” Jungkook shrugged.

“Okay,” Yoongi said, blinking at him. Jungkook drew him in for a kiss, that was much sweeter than the last, and he felt Yoongi relax against him. When they pulled apart, Yoongi’s pupils were blown and Jungkook’s dick was twitching in interest again. “Okay, just … do it already.”

“Bossy,” Jungkook quipped, but was already dropping into a crouch so he was at level height with Yoongi’s ass. “Turn around.” Yoongi complied, so Jungkook could help him out of those unfairly tight jeans and then his underwear, leaving the apron on – it would have looked ridiculous, if Jungkook hadn’t got so distracted by Yoongi’s ass, cute and round. Jungkook had the impulse to bite it, and he did, to which Yoongi hiccupped.

“Oh God,” he said, strangled, doing something to Jungkook’s ego. He leaned forward, resting his head on the cabinet, the food all but forgotten.

“Might wanna get to that, hyung,” Jungkook said, meaning the meal. It was a different game entirely, as Jungkook uncapped the lube and drizzled his fingers with it, while Yoongi put a lid over the pot and tried to pretend he wasn’t quivering with anticipation, waiting for Jungkook to finger him. This was good. “Okay, might sting,” he warned, as he pressed the first finger against the tight ring of muscle, but fortunately, didn’t slide in with too much resistance. “You’ve done this recently, hyung?” Jungkook teased him.

“Last night,” Yoongi admitted, already sounding fucked out. “Thinking about your dick in my mouth.”

The confession made Jungkook stutter, momentarily freeze, but he got over it pretty quickly. Apart from the erection that was becoming painful.

“What did you think about?” he pressed, as he successfully got the first finger in and worked at loosening Yoongi up, not aiming for anything in particular.

“What it felt like,” Yoongi sighed, shifting his weight so that he was almost leaning into Jungkook, pushing against Jungkook’s fingers. Jungkook took hold of Yoongi’s ass with the other hand and sucked a gentle hickey into it, because Yoongi’s skin was looking too soft to resist, relishing in the quiet moan Yoongi let out. “It was – was so big in my mouth,” he managed to get out, as Jungkook made a curling motion with his finger, feeling Yoongi flex against him.

“You were really good at it,” Jungkook told him, feeling Yoongi relaxed enough to slip a second finger in along with the first. Yoongi tightened up at the intrusion, and then let go, going all compliant again in a way that made Jungkook want to put his dick in him. He already had Yoongi, flushed and vulnerable for Jungkook, making small sounds while Jungkook scissored the fingers inside of Yoongi, so he couldn’t ask for more.

“I thought about when you came in my mouth, too,” Yoongi sighed, rolling against Jungkook more fervently this time, sucking Jungkook’s fingers further inside. “I wanted – wanted that to happen again.”

“It could happen again,” Jungkook said easily, looking for Yoongi’s prostate this time. He found it, a small bundle of muscles that he only had to brush for Yoongi to jolt and moan loudly, unabashedly. Jungkook imagined the neighbours hearing and it only spurred him on, wanting to coax further sounds out of Yoongi. He withdrew his fingers, briefly, to pour more lube onto his fingers but Yoongi was whining, asking for Jungkook’s fingers back.

“You’re only stroking my ego,” Jungkook told him, but slid two fingers back inside without any resistance, watching Yoongi swallow up and imagining it was his dick.

“Not my fault you’re good at fingering,” Yoongi huffed, a little brattish.

“Calm down, you’ll get it,” Jungkook murmured, inserting another finger. It was harder this time, but he got there, finally filling Yoongi with three fingers. He looked so good like this, collapsed against a cupboard and pushing against Jungkook’s fingers, a flush creeping from his face that crept to the rest of his body, a delicate shade of pink.

A silence settled on them, punctuated by Yoongi’s moans and the wet sound of Jungkook fingering him, smearing lube everywhere. It got messy, and sloppy, precisely how Jungkook liked it. He leaned in and put his tongue in there alongside the three fingers, and Yoongi’s knees buckled, sagging against Jungkook.

“Holy fuck,” Yoongi blurted.

“Too much baby?” Jungkook asked in a honeyed tone as he pulled away, the control he was exercising over Yoongi going straight to his head (and dick).

“Do it again,” Yoongi ordered, voice tight. “Please. God. Jungkook.”

“One in the same,” Jungkook grinned, but complied, stroking the flat of his tongue against the outer rim of Yoongi’s asshole, tasting the salt of Yoongi’s sweat and the raspberry overtones of the lube Jungkook had used. He only ever bought flavoured lube for occasions like this, and was glad he did, lapping at Yoongi almost feverishly.

He pulled away only to press the pads of his fingertips against Yoongi’s prostate, if anything, to hear Yoongi’s strangled moan, real feeling behind it.

“So noisy,” Jungkook said, biting at Yoongi’s skin. “People might hear.”

“I don’t mind,” Yoongi returned, breathless, “I know you want them to. Exhibitionist –“ he cut off as Jungkook stroked his prostate again, to prove a point about who held the power here. Yoongi wasn’t wrong about the idea of everybody hearing Yoongi at Jungkook’s whim, though. “Jungkook, Jungkook,” Yoongi chanted, sounding close. Jungkook said as much.

“Are you gonna cum? So soon?” Jungkook taunted, keeping the pressure on Yoongi’s prostate. “You can cum. I don’t mind.”

“Gonna – go all over the kitchen,” Yoongi gasped.

“So messy,” Jungkook tutted, realising he hadn’t given Yoongi’s dick any attention. His spare hand reached around and encircled Yoongi’s dick, unbelievably wet. He’d been leaking pre-cum for however long. “You’re so wet, hyung.”

Jungkook,” Yoongi whined, urgent. “Jungkook, put your dick in me already, oh my God. Please. I really want it.”

“Bossy,” Jungkook admonished, even if his heart had picked up at the thought of doing so, having harboured an erection since he’d spotted Yoongi in the kitchen. “Give me one sec.” He withdrew the fingers he’d had in Yoongi, and, with some effort, took out the condom he had stashed in his pocket, unwrapping it and rolling it over his dick. He saw Yoongi, bent forward, peer at Jungkook over his shoulder. He was pink all over, his hair matted and stuck to his forehead from the sweat.

“What are you doing?”

“Practising safe sex,” Jungkook said, which made Yoongi’s eyes roll. He got to his feet with a twang from his knees, for having been crouched down so long. He took his dick out and, in his hand, pressed the blunt tip of it against Yoongi’s asshole. It breached slowly, carefully, as Jungkook tried not to put his dick in all at once though the tight heat around him made his toes curl. “So tight, hyung,” he panted, leaning his forehead against Yoongi’s back, feeling the rapid rise-and-fall of Yoongi’s breathing. “Tell me when.”

There was a brief pause while Yoongi, presumably, adjusted to having Jungkook’s dick in him. Jungkook only had the tip in so far and felt like he wasn’t going to last long, strung out from fingering Yoongi.

“Go,” Yoongi breathed out, “Move.”

Jungkook wasn’t one to refuse, pushing the rest of his dick inside. He definitely wasn’t going to last. He started a steady rhythm, watching fascinated as his dick slid in and out of Yoongi, experimenting with strokes as he pulled his dick until it was all the way out and pushed it, smoothly, back inside.

“Fuck,” Yoongi sighed, rocking to meet Jungkook’s every stroke. It was impossibly, toe-curlingly good.

“Not gonna last hyung,” Jungkook finally said, grunting, “You feel so good.”

Yoongi didn’t answer, moaning with every thrust. Jungkook picked up the pace, just to test, and Yoongi’s sounds only got louder in answer, which drove Jungkook into a frenzy, steadying a hand on his hip and thrusting in properly, hard, like he knew he could. He was snapping his hips and Yoongi’s body was rocking against him, so movable, so mouldable, all Jungkook’s. The power was going to his head.

In a last-ditch attempt, Jungkook wrapped a hand around Yoongi’s dick, throbbing under him, and brushed a finger over his slit. That was enough, apparently, as Yoongi’s dick pulsed, the first indication, and spilled into Jungkook’s open hand. Yoongi flexed around him with every pulse and it drove Jungkook over the edge and he came, with a long, stuttered gasp.

His head was spinning again from the intensity of the orgasm. Fuck, he needed time to recuperate. As he came down, he felt lightheaded, reaching out for Yoongi, feeling warm, soft skin and the cotton of the apron Yoongi was wearing.

“I forgot about the apron,” Jungkook said, amused, tugging at the edges. Any post-coital bliss they could have experienced jointly was interrupted by the smell of burning, and the feeling of creeping dread that followed.

Fuck, the stew,” Yoongi cried out, panicked.





Jungkook didn’t reply initially, staring at the ceiling.

Jungkook.” Taehyung poked him with his foot.


“Why are you here again?”

“Can’t I just drop by and hang out?” Jungkook asked, trying with some effort to keep his feelings at bay. “You’re always asking me to move in.”

“I guess.”

A beat.

“It’s one in the morning, though, Jungkook. Don’t you have classes tomorrow?”

Jungkook rolled over, pressing his face into the plushness of Taehyung’s duvet set. Jimin was asleep, so they’d stowed away in Taehyung’s room. Jungkook was surprised they didn’t share.

“Maybe. It doesn’t matter, though.”

Another nudge. Taehyung was dangerously close to putting his ice-cold feet on Jungkook’s ankles again – something that had happened earlier, and Jungkook did not want to repeat, so he relented.

“I fucked Yoongi earlier.” It sounded so crude, fucked, but they hadn’t made love, either. They’d given into their joint impulses, as Jungkook did something he’d wanted to do for a while. He normally felt gratified after sleeping with someone, though, and not hollow.

Taehyung wriggled, in his position across the bed from Jungkook. It was the only way they could fit in Taehyung’s twin, sleeping head to foot. “You don’t sound happy about it. How come?”

“I don’t know.” Jungkook was still turning it over in his head, what happened. They’d just had sex – actual sex, in their kitchen of all places – but Yoongi had seen the food was burning, and panicked, and Jungkook had felt the shift in the atmosphere, from relaxed to taut. That was probably where it had gone wrong. Jungkook had tried to console Yoongi in the best way he could – putting hands on his shoulders, telling him it was fine – but Yoongi had shrugged him off with such nonchalance it’d kind of hurt. And then he’d told Jungkook to leave him alone, he had to sort this.

Jungkook would have passed it off as a comment in the heat of the moment, had he not seen Yoongi’s blazing eyes. It was like they’d reverted back to what they were before Jungkook had embarked on this whole thing, if not in an even worse position from before. Jungkook hadn’t known what to say to that and Yoongi hadn’t tried reaching out to him, to apologise. Evidently, it wasn’t a comment said in the heat of the moment. Yoongi had meant it.

And Jungkook – well, Jungkook didn’t realise perhaps how emotionally invested he’d become until that had happened – he hadn’t been able to handle the intensity of Yoongi’s anger, startling him so soon after they’d had sex. He’d left, wordless, wanting to throw back at Yoongi a hurt remark about how he’d wished they’d never had sex, if Yoongi was going to care more about the state of his food than Jungkook. But he didn’t.

“It all went wrong again, hyung,” Jungkook finally said, feeling sad to his stomach. “I thought we were making headway, but he got mad at me out of nowhere.”

“You don’t think maybe he’s just bad at expressing his feelings?” Taehyung offered, and adding in case Jungkook thought wrong, “I’m not on his side. But he sounds a bit emotionally stifled.”

“You could be right.” Jungkook didn’t really want to think in Yoongi’s favour at the moment, though. “I don’t know what I’m doing here anymore.”

“Do you think, maybe, you don’t want to seduce him anymore?”

“I would not believe that sentence if it came out of your mouth a week ago,” Jungkook sighed, craning his head so he could look at Taehyung, who looked enviably comfortable tucked into the covers. “And somehow it makes sense now. Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t normally feel this bad after having sex with someone.”

“Especially not someone you’ve wanted for a while,” Taehyung pointed out, adding, “Not that you were consciously aware of. But Jimin and I saw.”

“Yeah, you said.”

“What happened after you had sex?”

It sounded stupid, to say it aloud. “Yoongi-hyung was cooking. We had sex. He burned his food. Then he got mad at me and it hurt more than it normally did.”

“Doesn’t sound like you had much to go on,” Taehyung said agreeably. “Have you tried texting him?”

Texting him. Right. Jungkook took his phone from where it rested on the floor and checked his chat message with Yoongi. Hi had been read an hour ago, which meant Yoongi had checked his phone within the space of Jungkook’s absence, and still didn’t want to talk.

“Somehow I don’t think that’s going to work,” Jungkook said, dropping his phone onto the bed. It hurt to look at.

“Then you’ve got to talk to him,” Taehyung pressed. Jungkook knew it was the right thing to do, but the very idea made his stomach drop. And a small petty part of him wondered why it was his responsibility to bridge the gap. Why couldn’t Yoongi?

“What happened to, Sleep with him, it’ll get rid of the tension?” Jungkook mimicked, feeling more than a little bitter at how things turned out, though his anger was misdirected.

“I’m sorry Jungkook. We misjudged the situation. That’s our fault. It sounds like you might have genuine feelings for the guy.”

“I should have known sex would complicate things,” Jungkook said, seeing his phone out of the corner of his eye, still displaying the chat history. It depressed him, so he switched it off. “I’ve never normally been interested in someone for this long.” Taehyung watched him from his position, with a tinge of understanding, or was that sadness?

“Not that I’ve noticed. But it’s not a bad thing that you are interested,” he coaxed. “It’s just a matter of figuring out your feelings. And apologising to him. Who knows, he might open up to you.”

“Or clam up,” Jungkook corrected, thinking the latter was more likely. He put his phone away and turned to one side, facing the peeling wall of Taehyung’s bedroom. I don’t want him to think I’m some dumb jock still, a small voice in his head said.




As much as he tried prolonging it, he had to return to his apartment the next day to shower, and brush his teeth, and all those other essentials he’d forgotten when he’d run over to Jimin and Taehyung’s apartment. They were all understanding smiles and hand squeezes, telling Jungkook that whatever he did, they would support. Jungkook would have glowed with their assurance, had it not been for the fact that his mind, overwhelmingly, was fixed on one thing: having to go back to the apartment. Having to go back to the apartment, where Yoongi was. Yoongi.

As it turned out, Jungkook had nothing to worry about, because the apartment was empty when he returned. Approaching Yoongi and having an open, honest conversation went out the window; and Jungkook struggled to accept his relief, a little bit, because if he carried on this way, they’d never talk. They’d keep on having angry, repressed sex, and as good as that would feel, it didn’t seem sustainable.

What was going to be a few hours’ of Yoongi’s absence Jungkook threw himself into, intending to utilise every minute he had that Yoongi wasn’t there and he wasn’t distracted by what was going on with them. He opened up the blank word document that had been bothering him ever since he’d heard the words formative assessment, and poured a week’s worth of frustration, bafflement and momentary elation into it, till it was past five in the evening and Jungkook was proof-reading a complete story and making minor changes.

It’d been a good distraction, but it hadn’t lasted long. He became acutely aware of the time and realised Yoongi would probably have returned from wherever he’d gone. The notion of facing him sent his stomach into a plummet, wanting anything else. It was the right thing to do, but it wasn’t the easy thing, and a part of Jungkook longed for the easy thing.

As it turned out, he didn’t have to worry – he checked his phone out of habit and saw, on his screen, taunting him, the unopened message:

Gone to stay at a friend’s for a few days. In case you worried about my locked bedroom.

Jungkook blinked.

Locked bedroom wasn’t exactly top of his concerns, but apparently, world according to Yoongi, it was. He sat with his head dropped down staring at his hands trying not to quietly fume. He’d been secretly agonising over what to say to Yoongi when they saw one another again because last time had left a bad taste in his mouth – and Yoongi had done the very Grown Up, Responsible thing and left.

As if by default, Jungkook went to the group chat he shared with Jimin and Taehyung and began drafting a text punctuated with capitals and exclamation marks.

You WON’T believe what he’s done this time!! The first part read, but it sounded like fruitless drama trying to reel Jimin and Taehyung in, so Jungkook deleted it and tried again. Guess which asshole of a roommate has up and left? That didn’t sound right either, it was too leading. Jungkook gnawed at his bottom lip, hardly believing he was having trouble articulating how Yoongi leaving made him feel. On a surface level, he felt furious, which partly spawned from the fact that he’d spent so much time thinking how to approach Yoongi while Yoongi had up and left, but deeper than that … he felt small, and more than a bit anxious about whether Yoongi would come back. Which only served to enrage him more, because if Yoongi was going to blatantly not care, why should Jungkook?

I’m kind of sad he’s left the last message Jungkook typed out read, still in the unsent box. He deleted it in a spilling over of uncontrollable feelings and sat back on his bed, breathing hard. He had two options, one of which was obviously the good choice, the sensible one, the kind an adult renting an apartment would make. Eventually, Jungkook sent to the group chat:

Who’s coming out this weekend?

To which he got a flurry of excited messages that he thought was Jimin and Taehyung’s own way of showing him support and smiled. 




“I know this was my idea,” Jungkook shouted over the music, taking in Jimin’s venue of choice, “But I might be starting to regret it.”

Jimin didn’t respond, and lightly elbowed him in the side, which Jungkook took, grinning. He was only half serious – daunted at the throng of crowds at the centre of the club, sweating, pulsing, drawing them closer. Jungkook evaded that in favour of taking Jimin and Taehyung to the bar, sensing their silent question.

“I’ll be fine,” he told them, his smile only feeling slightly heavy on his face. “I’ll get a vodka and lemonade. Something light.”

“We’ve ruined you, Jungkookie,” Taehyung lamented. “When we first met, you thought beer was too strong. I blame myself.” He fake swooned into Jimin, who caught him with a surprised glance. They were falling into familiar rhythms and Jungkook was welcoming it, grateful for the distraction, and starting to think that this hadn’t been the worst idea – it was this or holing up in his apartment eating expired popcorn and watching a forgettable film.

“Make that two vodka and lemonades,” Jimin chirped. He wasn’t exactly approving of Jungkook’s decision – which was made clear enough by his expression – but it appeared he wasn’t going to limit himself, either. He had on tight leather trousers that were enough to make Jungkook sweat, paired with a loose-fitting white shirt, frilled around the collar.

“I’ve corrupted you all,” Taehyung bemoaned, but made a quiet signal to make that three vodka lemonades, with a sheer, studded shirt that sparkled in the light and relaxed, dark denim jeans. Jungkook, for once, had tried to match their level of dress by wearing tight-fitting jeans that were possibly constricting his blood flow, and a silk, blue shirt with three buttons undone. They milled around until they could order their drinks – fixed to their position by the pressing, growing crowd of people dancing – at which point Jungkook took a polite sip of his drink and cast an eye around.

“There,” he said to Jimin and Taehyung, dragging them away before they could say anything, to a small corner of unoccupied space, next to the private booths. He drained his drink in quick succession and left Jimin and Taehyung, idly dancing, to order another drink. When he returned, he saw a flicker of concern grace Jimin’s face, but he raised his eyebrows back at Jimin, as if to say: Not now. To Jimin’s credit, he didn’t say – or shout, because the music was oppressively loud – anything to Jungkook.

They’d spent weekends this way, spending too much money on drinks and dancing to inevitably bemoan later, and usually they had a good time of it, even if there was the occasional bout of sickness spent in the club toilets, or the group of strangers they’d met that had got funny with them, all with alcohol involved. Jungkook tried not to think too much about how this time felt much more forced, an effort to forget rather than just let go.

He kind of wanted to smoke, he reflected, as he slipped into relaxed tipsiness, where everything felt loose and light and he wasn’t being badgered by intrusive thoughts. He’d probably drank too much to smoke anyway, but he relished the thought, of going boneless and giggly around Jimin and Taehyung becoming struck by things that didn’t seem so important the next day.

They’d thrown themselves into dancing with vigour, though this time neither of them seemed interested in snagging a stranger from the crowd and dancing with them. Which reminded Jungkook –

“How did things go with Jin-hyung?” he shouted into Taehyung’s ear, and repeated when Taehyung gave him a blank stare in response.

Oh, right, Taehyung mouthed. “It was good,” was his response. “He was good.”


Taehyung gave a small smirk and gestured, like, You know. Understanding washed over Jungkook.

“You guys didn’t…”

“I can’t say! You might be shocked with me, Jungkookie.”

“Try me,” Jungkook yelled back. Jimin was watching them with a degree of curiosity, but it was likely he wouldn’t be able to hear anything. It was also likely Taehyung had already filled him in on the details. Jungkook had to crowd close to Taehyung and shout in his ear to hear what he had to say.

“We did it in his bedroom,” Taehyung said, with a wide grin. “Not long after the party.”

Jungkook gave him a look, and Taehyung giggled. What Taehyung did was his own business, really, but the thought … Well, it reminded Jungkook of his own rendezvous that had happened during the party, and if that wasn’t a dampener on Jungkook’s evening. It made him thirsty for another drink.

Be right back, he mouthed at Jimin and Taehyung. Jimin gave him a finger waggle as a wave goodbye. Jungkook wasn’t aware of where he was at precisely until he made a clumsy beeline for the bar, more than a little unsteady on his feet. His vision was okay, though, so he had that at least. He ordered a double vodka and lemonade, and leant back on the bar while he waited, the cool press of it on his skin a relief, as he’d surrendered to the humid climate of the club, the result of a couple hundred bodies sweating in a tight space.

It took about five minutes, which was pretty quick considering the ever-growing queue of people wanting drinks. He took a sip and headed back over to Jimin and Taehyung, feeling the mild burn of the drink on its way down spread to the rest of his body. Jimin and Taehyung were pressed up against one another in a way that was drawing looks, but Jungkook was kind of used to. He was tipsy edging on drunk, and feeling emboldened, sought out someone from the crowd to dance with.

It didn’t take long – a girl, measuring about neck height on Jungkook, who’d been blushing at his looks. They started off timidly, brushing shoulders, then Jungkook was settling his hands on her hips, looking at her to say Is this okay? and she was nodding and smiling, leaning into his touch, the warmth of her body radiating to him. She was flushed and sweaty from the exertion of the dancing, with a rosebud mouth and pretty brown eyes. She was attractive, and danced well, moving into Jungkook’s body in a pressing way that would have ordinarily driven him nuts and he’d have tried to kiss her, to see where that went.

The temptation was certainly there. She kept looking up at him, with her big brown eyes, her gaze dropping to his mouth, so he was fairly sure she wanted to kiss him, too. His grip tightened on her hips, torn with indecision. Why was he indecisive? She was pretty, and tall, precisely the type of girl Jungkook kissed and brought back with him on a night out. A thought flashed through his mind, mocking him: Because she’s not Yoongi. His grip slackened, just about, not enough for her to notice – but somehow enough for Taehyung to notice, who was watching Jungkook keenly. It was only a few days ago that Jungkook had arrived at their apartment impromptu and shared with Taehyung just how much he was struggling. The conversation was probably fresh in Taehyung’s mind.

Whatever keen observation Taehyung was making was putting Jungkook off, killing his buzz a bit. He tried to shake it, and dance with the girl pressing up against him, fluttering her eyelashes at him. She leaned her head back onto his shoulder and it was too familiar of a gesture, reminding Jungkook of when he’d approached Yoongi in the kitchen, and Yoongi had done precisely that, right before they’d had the best sex Jungkook had had for a while.

Jungkook stumbled back, the grip of all the alcohol he’d drunk taking hold. He could feel all the things he’d been trying to repress gathering up, overwhelming him, thick in his throat. The girl turned to look at him, perplexed, making Jungkook realise he’d never got her name. He was such an asshole.

“I have to go,” he blurted out, in her ear. Her eyebrows drew together and she shouted back,


“I have to go,” Jungkook shouted in her ear. “Sorry.” Without elaborating further, he peeled himself away, abandoning her to that small, confined space. He staggered in the direction of the toilets – helpfully lit up by signs – and didn’t bother looking over his shoulder, aware that he’d probably be met with looks of bewilderment, edging on hurt rejection. 

The toilets were away from the pulse of music but there was still noise in there, the sound of people excitedly chattering to one another, punctuated by the sound of someone being sick in the toilets. Jungkook tried not to slip on the slick floor where people had spilled their drinks and barged his way past into an unoccupied cubicle, ignoring someone’s outraged cry.

He knelt down on the floor in spite of how grotty it was and leaned his head over the toilet seat, breathing hard. His head was spinning, though whether that was from how much he’d had to drink or the intrusive thoughts, he didn’t know. He took in gulps of fresh air as waves of nausea came over him – as fresh as it could be in club toilets where people came and went – and stared into the toilet bowl. Nothing came. He wasn’t able to be sick, even if he felt awful. Maybe something or someone in the universe was punishing him personally, for partaking in this god-awful mess.

A knock on the cubicle.

“Jungkook?” It was Taehyung, who’d evidently followed him into the toilets. For the umpteenth time – because this wasn’t the first time his friends had bailed him out after a night’s antics gone wrong – Jungkook was glad Taehyung was so observant. “Jungkook, is everything okay?”

“Not feeling good,” Jungkook mumbled back, feeling a droplet of sweat run down his neck.

“Jungkook? Can we come in?” That was Jimin. “We’re worried about you.”

Jungkook strained to unlock the door and it swung open, making the cubicle shake, drawing a few looks from people crowded outside. There was a noise of protest at Jimin and Taehyung barrelling in, but they hardly spared them a glance. They were blurry outlines until Jimin crouched down, to Jungkook’s level, taking Jungkook’s face in his hands. The coolness of Jimin’s hands pressed against Jungkook’s feverish skin.

“You’re hot,” Jimin observed, with a wrinkle in his forehead. Taehyung was dropping to a crouch behind him. “What’s going on Jungkook?”

Ack, I don’t want to talk about it,” Jungkook said with a dismissive wave, slurring his words. He was finding it hard to put it into words: that going out in the first place had been to distract himself from how he was feeling, and it’d done the exact opposite. “Was being an asshole. Danced with that girl, and then…” he trailed off. “She reminded me of someone,” he put lamely.

“Yoongi-ssi?” Jimin asked gently, brushing a stray hair away from Jungkook’s face. He didn’t comment on the sweat sticking to Jungkook’s skin. “Jungkook,” he chided with fond eyes. “You could have talked to us about what was going on.”

“You were asleep when I showed up,” Jungkook said, though that wasn’t the real reason. “I think this was all a mistake. Yoongi-hyung had gone when I came back and it really made me feel like shit.”

“Because you slept together?”

“Because I don’t understand where it went wrong. Am I that bad?”

Jimin and Taehyung were on him in an instant, spilling out their reassurances.

“You didn’t just hang out with me because I was your friend’s kid brother?” Jungkook tested, because it was a small insecurity of his he didn’t like to voice very often.

“Don’t say that Jungkook,” Taehyung said fiercely, throwing him off. “That wasn’t it at all. You were sweet, and considerate, and funny – you still are. Don’t measure yourself by what one asshole thinks.

“I thought maybe I was the asshole,” Jungkook admitted. “Things went sideways so quickly. And I’m not really … used to be disliked,” he added with a grimace, because it sounded so conceited. “I thought maybe I reacted too quickly; I could have been more patient.”

“Maybe there were things both of you guys could have done,” Jimin said honestly. “Who knows? But he left, and he’s the asshole for that.”

“We’re sorry we ever put you up to this,” Taehyung said, hushed. He looked ashen faced. “We’re the real assholes, Jungkook.”

“I was the idiot for listening,” Jungkook replied, with no sincerity behind it. “Maybe. How did it work for you, Jimin-hyung?”

“For starters,” Jimin sighed, “I didn’t live with the guy. And everybody’s different, I guess. Maybe Yoongi-ssi isn’t the kind to sleep with someone and move on from that.”

“I don’t think I’m the kind to either.” Jungkook let his head fall into his arms, burrowing deeper. The nausea had mostly gone away, but he occasionally got waves that made him think he should adjust and point towards the toilet. How bleak.

“Jungkookie,” Taehyung half-cooed, but his expression bordered on distraught. “That’s okay too. We love you.”

Jungkook was about to answer in kind, when he felt his body lurch with nausea, and he had to jerk towards the toilet, so he wasn’t sick all over the floor.




Sunlight. Jungkook blearily opened his eyes, groggy, and winced from the piercing light being thrown in through his window. Where were his curtains? He came to properly, and registered in a rush, all the aches and pains preoccupying his body.

“Fuck,” he said, to no one in particular, trying to smooth his hands over the part where it hurt, except that was everywhere, so he was fruitlessly patting himself down and abandoned it when he realised there were parts that were going to kill. Like his head. He sat up with some effort, feeling sofa underneath his hands and frowned.

“Morning Jungkookie.” Taehyung stood in front of the window, blocking some of the sunlight out, which was a welcome relief. “You need something to eat? To drink?”

“…Did you guys carry me home last night?” Jungkook asked after a pause, pressing a hand to the killer headache that was coming along. He’d have been better off asleep.

Taehyung sat down on the arm of the sofa, munching on something. He swallowed, and said, “Kind of. It was mostly Jimin though, out of the club. We called a cab.”

Jungkook remembered it in blurry, mismatched snatches – being sick in the toilets, watching his feet step in front of him outside what could have been the entrance to the club, being bundled into the backseat of a car that smelled like forest, or maybe that was the air freshener.

“I’m a mess.”

Our mess,” Taehyung corrected, but he looked worried. “Jimin’s out right now picking up supplies. He’s probably left the store but say the word and he’ll go back and get what you need.”

“I should really want to milk, that, huh,” Jungkook said, with a dry swallow. His throat was all scratchy, like he’d swallowed knives. “Ugh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” The rush to support, to reassure. Jungkook’s eyes pricked. “Jungkookie! Don’t cry.”

“Not crying,” Jungkook sniffled, unconvincingly. “Got overwhelmed I guess.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Taehyung prodded him gently. “Feels like we should have been here sooner.”

“I didn’t tell you what was going on,” Jungkook shrugged, blinking the tears away. “I didn’t want to face it.”

“Probably feels a lot like heartbreak, huh.”

Jungkook searched his feelings. He’d only ever had one heartbreak – and he wasn’t sure if that counted, because he liked a boy on the football team he played for in his hometown, but he’d never confessed anything, just pined from a distance. He was glad he did, because the boy got into a relationship shortly after and though it was crushing to see him happy where Jungkook wasn’t, it would have been far more crushing to confess and have been turned down. Jimin and Taehyung knew this, and he wondered if they were thinking about it too.

“I guess? I don’t know how he feels. This came out of desire, not genuine feeling. He might not like me that much.”

“If he doesn’t, he’s an idiot. And definitely not worth all of this.”

Jungkook looked over at Taehyung, who seemed to mean every word he said. But it was easier said than to feel it. He felt the impulse to text Yoongi, either to understand what was going on or let Yoongi know how much he’d hurt Jungkook. Somehow, Jungkook didn’t think either would work. He resigned himself to moping in the apartment.

Taehyung swore under his breath, drawing Jungkook’s attention back. He was staring down at his phone.

“What’s wrong?”

“Jimin went out for food without any way of paying for it, the idiot.” There was a pause. “Will you be okay –“

“Yeah, go ahead,” Jungkook waved. He doubted he’d be moving much in the time Taehyung was out, anyway. “I’ve got no immediate plans.” He gave Taehyung a self-deprecating smile and got a far sunnier one in return. “Enjoy,” he called, increasingly shrinking into himself at the prospect of nursing this hangover on his own – even if for a brief period.

The door opened only after minutes after Taehyung leaving, and Jungkook didn’t bother looking up, calling out with a wry smile from the sofa,

“Did you miss me already?”

There was an uncharacteristic silence. Jungkook looked up, his whole body stiffening in response. Yoongi was stood close to the doorway with tense shoulders, staring back at Jungkook with wide eyes like he’d been caught doing something awful. Like a kid caught sneaking out, except Yoongi was sneaking in (Jungkook guessed).

“I, uh,” Yoongi said, licking his lips. Jungkook’s heart rate, which had been a slow beat till Yoongi came, began to speed up, as if in recognition that the very person Jungkook had drunkenly pined over last night, was here now.

“I thought you were staying elsewhere for a while,” Jungkook said, acidic, not bothering to disguise his hostility. It didn’t feel that fair that he was harbouring all these jumbled feelings towards Yoongi – frustration, mainly – but still felt affected by the sight of him. “Got your text?”

Yoongi ran a hand through his hair, and Jungkook’s eyes tracked the movement. His eyes rested on Yoongi’s face – the purple-y blue bruising of what looked like several nights spent awake.

“Yeah, I came back to get something. Didn’t think you’d be here.”

“Because I left the other day?” It was upfront, void of any energy spent covering up how he truly felt. Yoongi hadn’t cared leaving, why should he care about how he came across?

Yoongi’s face fell in tired recognition. “Right. When you left.”

“Because you freaked out on me,” Jungkook fired back. He was all unbridled feeling where Yoongi was tired, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. It pissed Jungkook off. “I don’t know what went through your head.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Yoongi said tightly. “We can have space now.”

“And if I don’t want space?” Jungkook stood up, sending pangs through his head and the rest of his body, reminding him that he was hungover. “You don’t talk to me.”

Yoongi stared at him, speechlessly. “Talk about what, Jungkook? What is this, exactly?”

“Maybe it’s me saying I don’t want to carry on hating each other, fuck, I don’t know!” Jungkook rubbed an anxious hand over the nape of his neck. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

“I do?” Yoongi’s voice was deceptively soft, and his face was blank. It gave nothing away, giving Jungkook nothing to go off of. “I don’t understand any of this, Jungkook, I –“ He took a step forward, closer to Jungkook, smelling unfairly good. “At least before I knew where we stood.”

Without meaning to, Jungkook’s eyes dropped to Yoongi’s lips. They were pale, chapped, but Jungkook still wanted to kiss them.

“I don’t know either, hyung,” Jungkook admitted quietly, so that Yoongi had to lean in to hear him. They were much closer now, without either intending to, like they gravitated to one another. “But I don’t want you to leave. Please.”

“Are you sure you want this,” Yoongi said so softly, edging closer to Jungkook. He brought a hand up and brushed it against Jungkook’s cheek, an intimate act between lovers. Jungkook’s eyes fluttered, leaning into his touch. “I don’t know where it all went wrong.”

Jungkook opened up his eyes. “You didn’t talk to me, for a start.”

“That’s not –“ Yoongi stopped abruptly when Jungkook turned, and mouthed at his hand. “Jungkook. This isn’t, this isn’t going to help, you…” he faltered when Jungkook drew one of Yoongi’s fingers into his mouth, coyly. “Jungkook,” he repeated, but made no move to stop him. Jungkook felt a thrill run through him, and sucked two of Yoongi’s fingers in his mouth, letting drool drip down his chin.

Jungkook released Yoongi’s fingers from his mouth with a satisfying pop in time to say, “I think you’re hot, too, hyung.”

It was at that point that Jimin and Taehyung barged in in usual fashion with armfuls of snacks and Yoongi sprang apart from Jungkook, drawing their gaze. Jungkook wiped his chin with the back of his sleeve trying, fruitlessly, to look like he hadn’t been caught with Yoongi’s fingers in his mouth. His head throbbed.

“Hi Jungkook, Yoongi-ssi,” Jimin said slowly, unloading the snacks in his arms onto the countertop. “Didn’t realise you came to stop by.” It was said like Yoongi didn’t live there, like he didn’t share a residency with Jungkook. In the grand scheme of things, Jungkook wasn’t going to correct him. Also, it was possible Jungkook wasn’t going to correct him because he had the taste of Yoongi’s fingers on his tongue. Still.

“Yeah, I came to pick a few things up,” Yoongi replied absentmindedly. Jungkook wondered if he was hard. “I’ll be in and out.” And that was it. No further explanation. Yoongi excused himself and swiftly dodged his way out of that situation. Jungkook didn’t know whether to feel resentful towards him for it. He hadn’t properly asked for an explanation, he’d got distracted by his dick. Again.

Jimin and Taehyung gave Jungkook questioning looks, to which Jungkook gave a, Talk about this later look back. They nodded vaguely.

Yoongi was in and out of his room with such speed Jungkook didn’t half-wonder if there was a reason for such urgency. He hesitated as he passed Jungkook with a bag in hand, looking like he was about to say something and decided against it.

“See you soon,” he said brusquely. The answering slam of the door shut resounded in the silence. Jungkook stared helplessly at Jimin and Taehyung as if to say, You see what I’m dealing with?

“I’m beginning to think your life’s the real kdrama,” Taehyung said thoughtfully, interrupting the silence. “Is there something you’re not telling us, Jungkook?”

Jungkook gave an exaggerated shrug, despairing. “You’d be the first to know if I was.”




Long after Jimin and Taehyung left, and Jungkook was laying on his bed listening to the noises of the street below fall to a quiet hum, he was mid-thought about whether Tinder was worth installing or not (Taehyung spouted off the useful benefits while Jimin didn’t look so sure and gave his measured opinion), he heard the almost inaudible sound of the front door open, sigh as it swung shut.

There were two possible avenues, of one Jungkook was becoming increasingly sure of: one, that Yoongi had inexplicably returned to the apartment, and this fantasy Jungkook had clearly invented, to talk things through – or, two, someone had broken in and was going to take the few things Jungkook owned. The latter scenario was more likely. He fell quiet, straining his ears to hear.

There were slow, shuffling footsteps, growing closer to Jungkook, who felt the temptation to stiffen up and pretend he wasn’t there, but slipped off his bed instead and crept towards his door. The footsteps stopped, and Jungkook’s breath hitched. It all happened at once – Jungkook swung the door open rather than crouch down, trying to peer through the crack, in perhaps what was his least-thought through decision yet.

He threw himself into an indistinguishable figure, hidden under the cover of darkness, and was met with what could only be described as a shocked cry. They tumbled to the floor, limbs entangling, though Jungkook bore the brunt of the fall, feeling sharp pangs shoot through his body at different points of contact when they hit the ground.

“What are you doing!” the voice cried. The voice was familiar.

Jungkook, who had the guy on top of him practically, leaned back to get a better look. They were dressed in all black, which really wasn’t helpful, and were wearing a cap that shaded most of their face, but –

“Yoongi-hyung?” Jungkook said, thoroughly baffled.

“Jesus, yes, it’s me. Yoongi.” Yoongi took the cap off and lifted his head, throwing light from outside onto his face, and Jungkook was struck with the image of how unfairly pretty he was, even caught in this compromising position – his cheeks were coloured pink, in a blush that had crawled over the rounded tip of his nose. “I know we don’t get along,” he said, making an effort to get off Jungkook – who was then acutely aware of how close they were like this,their bodies pressed together – “But I didn’t think that warranted an attack.”

“Oh my God. I thought you were an intruder.”

Yoongi scoffed, wriggling as he tried to get away. Jungkook jerked from the movement.

“Who would burgle this place?”

Jungkook had a similar thought, but didn’t voice it.

“I didn’t think you were coming back,” he pointed out, making no effort to help Yoongi get off him. He wasn’t really in a hurry. “I know you’ve showed up twice now, but … With the way things were left, I didn’t think you were going to come back again.”

“There wasn’t time to talk, you had my fingers in your mouth.” It sounded like a disgruntled remark, but Jungkook looked closer and saw Yoongi was flustered. “I don’t know what you want from me, Jungkook.”

“I don’t know either. But I think. Maybe. We stop hating each other?”

“I never hated you, Jungkook.” To which Jungkook scoffed. “I didn’t. We … clashed.”

“Meaning you called me a dumb jock and I called you controlling,” Jungkook corrected. “Yeah, I remember.”

“I’m not very good at communicating. I think … things got lost in translation.”


Jungkook fixed Yoongi with a look, one he couldn’t squirm away from because Yoongi was (literally) resting on top of him. “Why’d you get mad after we had sex?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Yoongi replied, sounding miserable. “It was why I was cooking. I,” he stopped abruptly to blow a stray hair away from his eyes. “I was cooking for you. And I burned it.”

“Oh.” Oh was right. When Jungkook didn’t respond, stunned, Yoongi managed to scoot off Jungkook and sat, his legs thrown out in front of him. “Hyung. I didn’t know that was for me?”

Yoongi blushed furiously and didn’t meet Jungkook’s eyes. “Yeah, Hoseok mentioned it and so I thought I’d be a dick if I didn’t, so.” Maybe there was more to it than Yoongi was letting on. Jungkook’s heart skipped a hopeful beat.

“I didn’t believe him,” Jungkook confessed. “I’ve only ever seen you cook microwaveable food.”

Yoongi shrugged. “It was an idea. A kind of dumb one at that, but…”

“No, it wasn’t,” Jungkook said quickly. “I just didn’t know. I thought you were mad at me.”

“There were times when you drove me nuts,” Yoongi answered honestly. “But it wasn’t anger, not really.”

“You liked me?” Jungkook tried, because he couldn’t see it, looking back. Maybe Yoongi was as bad at expressing how he felt as Jimin and Taehyung had suggested to him, but it had seemed propesterous at the time. Had. “Wait. Hyung. You liked me?”

“I thought you were cute,” Yoongi said gruffly, after the prompting. “Then you opened your mouth.”

“Hurtful,” Jungkook chorused, but a small smile crept onto his face. “I’m sorry. I assumed you couldn’t stand me, I was going to move out when the year was up.”

“Who says I still don’t?” Yoongi asked, and Jungkook jostled him. There was a small, treasured moment where they smiled at one another. Jungkook wondered if maybe he’d fallen asleep on his bed, and dreamt all of this up, it was that unbelievable.

“Okay. So we can be friends?”

“Is this how you usually make friends?” Yoongi asked, but stretched his legs out so that they were pressed against Jungkook’s legs, a warmth Jungkook sought out.

“Like you would know,” Jungkook threw back, but shuffled closer. There was a noticeable difference between their legs, Yoongi’s measuring shorter, slightly slimmer. There was a small sliver of skin where Yoongi’s jeans cut off, exposing stubbly leg hair. Jungkook reached forward and wrapped his hand around it. Yoongi jumped. “Is this okay?” Yoongi nodded, and Jungkook brushed over the skin with his thumb. His hand fit around Yoongi’s whole ankle. “So small,” Jungkook said aloud.

“I’m not small,” Yoongi protested, but he already looked affected. “You’re cliché.”


“You know, tall and muscular. All daddy top, probably.”

“Daddy top,” Jungkook repeated, bemused. He splayed his hand out, till his fingers were covering the breadth of Yoongi’s ankle. “That’s what you think?”

Yoongi wriggled. “It’s how you act, kinda.”

“Well at least it’s only kinda.” Jungkook stretched out, tracing up Yoongi’s inseam with his hand. “What, you think I’ve never bottomed or something?”

“I don’t know!” Yoongi was blushing. Cute. “Maybe?”

Jungkook met his eyes, serious. “Do you want to find out?”

He heard it, the tiny hitch in Yoongi’s breath, and saw his pupils blow. “Again?”

“If you want to, yeah.”

“Do you want?” Yoongi asked, and Jungkook saw it, that flicker of self-doubt.

“Very much so,” Jungkook affirmed, and his hand stilled, resting on Yoongi’s thigh. “You’re gorgeous.”

“Okay,” Yoongi breathed out, and it rippled through his whole body. “Yeah, I do.” Jungkook crawled over, finally, and met Yoongi in a kiss, with as much heat as the first time but with none of the hostility. It was sweet, and Jungkook wanted Yoongi’s tongue in his mouth, so he let it in without much resistance. Jungkook sucked on it and Yoongi moaned, a noise that went straight to Jungkook’s dick. This time was different, it was Jungkook clambering onto Yoongi, trying to crowd himself onto Yoongi’s lap. Yoongi’s hands gripped Jungkook’s hips, but it wasn’t an unwelcome gesture, Jungkook didn’t feel averse to it like he had done in the past when he’d been on someone’s lap. 

There was a certain vulnerability to it, being open in Yoongi’s lap like this, but for once, he wasn’t shying away. Yoongi felt vulnerable too, clutching at Jungkook like he was afraid Jungkook was going to go away, and Jungkook kind of relished it, the feeling of being wanted and needed. He rolled his hips down once, testing, and Yoongi groaned into his mouth.

“Don’t do that,” Yoongi said, warningly.

“Or what?”

Yoongi’s hands tightened, almost bruisingly. Jungkook felt a small shiver run through him at the thought of Yoongi leaving bruises on him.

“Or I’ll have to teach you a lesson,” Yoongi growled into his mouth. Jungkook laughed, but Yoongi cut him off with a kiss, and oh, that was new. Yoongi taking control. He broke off to kiss at Jungkook’s neck, hairs tickling the underside of Jungkook’s skin. It felt good, it felt really good. Jungkook’s hands found purchase on Yoongi’s shoulders and held tightly.

“Hyung,” Jungkook breathed, tilting his head back to give Yoongi better access. “It’s, I want,” and faltered when he couldn't find the words.

“Never thought I’d make you speechless before,” Yoongi noted with a grumble. He had a talented mouth, which Jungkook had discovered before when Yoongi had blown him in the bathroom, but he hadn’t known the extent of it. “You normally never shut up.” He ducked his head down and sucked at Jungkook’s neck, working in a hickey that would probably take a few days to fade.

“That’s not, ah, that’s not fair,” Jungkook panted, scrabbling at Yoongi’s shoulders. He was starting to feel hot all over and wondering if the layers of clothing between him and Yoongi were too much. “Wait, wait.” Yoongi stilled. Jungkook rocked back on his lap, and, yep, that was Yoongi’s erection. He pulled his sweatshirt over his head, and the t shirt underneath, till he was shirtless in Yoongi’s lap. He shivered from the temperature change.

In a movement that wasn’t characteristic, Yoongi stared unabashedly at Jungkook’s naked chest, brushing a hand over Jungkook’s nipples. Jungkook jumped, and met Yoongi’s eyes, which were considerably darker than before.

“You’re sensitive here?”

“Maybe,” Jungkook said, not divulging all the times he’d jerked off with one hand around his dick while the other tugged at his nipples until they were sore and he came over his hand with a muffled cry.

“Maybe,” Yoongi repeated agreeably. “Maybe we can do this elsewhere?”

“Are you trying to seduce me?” Jungkook wondered, like he hadn’t devoted a load of his time to doing exactly that with Yoongi. “You should take me to dinner first.”

“Dinner can wait,” Yoongi replied, brushing a hand over Jungkook’s nipples again, just to see him jerk. Jungkook took the initiative and got off Yoongi’s lap, which was a crying shame.

“My place or yours?”

“Come on,” Yoongi said once they were on their feet, tugging Jungkook towards his room. It occurred to Jungkook then that he’d never been in his room – Yoongi was private about his own space and also didn’t like to share the kitchen with Jungkook for a long period. It was dark in Yoongi’s room, lit by the soft glow of the fairy lights Yoongi had strung up. It was tidier than Jungkook expected it to be, though still with the characteristic stack of notes on the floor and various sheets of paper with scribbles on them. In the corner was Yoongi’s PC set up, which looked like it barely fit in Yoongi’s room, complete with a stray pair of headphones and what looked like expensive speakers tucked underneath the desk.

“So this is what you do all day,” Jungkook observed, resisting the urge to sift through the pages on his desk. It looked like sheet music.

“Not relevant right now,” Yoongi said, tugging Jungkook closer. Jungkook backed up until he fell onto the bed naturally, and Yoongi went with him. It was only a single, which meant the space felt more cramped, but they managed – Jungkook found he didn’t mind so much when Yoongi was kissing him, hands on his neck, sprawled over his body. “Fuck,” Yoongi sighed, making a small noise of contentment when Jungkook ducked his head down to kiss under his jaw, down his neck, all over the small parts of exposed skin. Yoongi shifted, and Jungkook felt the hard press of Yoongi’s dick on him.

“Already, hyung?” Jungkook grinned, always an ego-booster.

“Shut up,” Yoongi kissed him, though whether it was to maintain Jungkook’s silence or because it was really, really hot when they kissed, Jungkook didn’t know. He was a warm, comfortable weight on Jungkook and Jungkook wanted more, wanted him closer.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Jungkook whined into his mouth. “I’m half-naked.”

“What if I like you half-naked,” Yoongi returned, tracing over Jungkook’s ribcage. “You’re all vulnerable like this.”

“Sadistic, much,” Jungkook quipped, but a moan cut him off as Yoongi leaned down and sucked a hickey by his hip, biting at the bit of fat that resided there. “Hyung, ‘s not fair.”

“You still want to bottom?” Yoongi tried, like they weren’t both hard in their jeans from a heady makeout session.

“I’m out of practice, but yeah. Go gentle on me,” Jungkook joked, though Yoongi was true to his word. He shifted, straddling Jungkook’s lower body, hands hovering over Jungkook’s zip. Jungkook wriggled, impatient. “Please. Yoongi-hyung.”   

“So impatient,” Yoongi chided, but had Jungkook’s jeans popped open in no time. His underwear went pretty quickly after that. Jungkook shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold. He was all … open for Yoongi like this, completely naked where Yoongi was fully clothed. Jungkook’s dick was hard between his legs, resting on his stomach, flushed from the attention. Yoongi’s eyes were dark like he wanted to devour Jungkook.

Yoongi took his time touching Jungkook, torturously so. Jungkook squirmed, feeling his dick pulse from the fleeting, light touches which didn’t properly satisfy. He made eye contact with Yoongi, who smiled at him – a teasing curve of his mouth – who seemed to know what he was doing to Jungkook. When Yoongi finally wrapped a hand around Jungkook’s leaking dick, Jungkook sighed, gratified by the small touch.

“So needy too,” Yoongi commented, stroking Jungkook slowly in a way that was making his brain short-circuit and continuously reboot. Yoongi swiped a thumb over the head of Jungkook’s dick, smearing the pre-cum over him, over Yoongi’s hands, getting it messy. Jungkook whined and let his body go limp, surrendering to Yoongi’s teasing. Jungkook didn’t know it would be like this, completely at Yoongi’s mercy (but also, in a small, miniscule way, really liked it).

Yoongi was just as good at handjobs as blowjobs, Jungkook learned, writhing under Yoongi while Yoongi took his time with jerking off Jungkook, making small cooing sounds and clucking at how much Jungkook was leaking.

“You’re all messy Jungkook,” Yoongi said in such an off-hand, casual way, but was stroking Jungkook with a practised hand, aware that he was the reason Jungkook was getting so messy. “Leaking everywhere,” he added, like he was chiding Jungkook.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook said garbled, tongue feeling too big for his mouth. He sighed, which broke off into a moan from Yoongi’s touch, which was making his toes curl, his body taut from the pleasure. “I-I’m sorry hyung, don’t mean to be. Don’t mean to be messy.”

Yoongi’s eyes darkened, but he said quietly, “This is okay Jungkook?”

“Definitely, definitely okay.”

“Okay. Maybe you could, uh, say red if it gets too much. Like the traffic light system.”

“A safeword hyung?” Jungkook smiled.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Yoongi muttered. “Setting boundaries and stuff. I, uh, read about it.” His ears pinked. “Plus, you seem…” Yoongi trailed off. Vulnerable, seemed implicit.

“It’s not,” Jungkook consoled. “We’ll do that. I’ll say red if it gets too much. Kind of makes me feel bad that we didn’t set one earlier, uh.”

“No, that was fine.” Yoongi kissed him. “I think you might be a different bottom to me.”

“Bossy?” Jungkook tried, and caught Yoongi’s hand in his answering nudge. He dropped a kiss on the back of his hand, over his fingers, onto his fingertips, and felt thrilled when he drew them into his mouth again. Yoongi looked affected, and it spurned Jungkook on, wanting to suck Yoongi’s fingers down until they brushed the back of his throat. Jungkook gagged when they brushed over his tongue, which made Yoongi withdraw his fingers, but Jungkook stopped him.

“Want this,” Jungkook simply said, feeling saliva fill his mouth and being all the more turned on for it. “Hyung,” he whined when Yoongi pressed his fingers down onto Jungkook’s tongue.

“Too much?” Yoongi asked softly. Jungkook shook his head. “Such a good boy, like this. Think you can take three?” It sounded like Yoongi was asking about fingering him, which made Jungkook blush, but he opened his mouth wider, craned to let three of Yoongi’s fingers in. The drool poured down his chin but Yoongi didn’t wipe it away. “You’re so good.” Jungkook panted, feeling a little overwhelmed by having things in his mouth, but it was a good overwhelmed.

Yoongi took Jungkook with his spare hand and started jerking him off again, making Jungkook’s body buzz. “Look how messy,” Yoongi crooned, “Got so messy for me Jungkook. Baby needs help?”

Being called baby made Jungkook twitch, push his hips forward into Yoongi’s hand. Yoongi loosened his grip and let Jungkook fuck into the ring of his hand, blindly chasing that feeling. He was definitely getting there, quicker than he realised, and he said as much to Yoongi.

“Gonna cum, hyung, I, ah – “ he tensed as he felt the familiar build up inside of him, promising a great orgasm, one that Yoongi had milked out of him, when Yoongi’s hand tightened around Jungkook’s dick and that particular climax dropped, disappointingly. Jungkook could only stare at Yoongi, chest heaving, confused.

“Not yet,” Yoongi said gently, though his eyes said much more. “Not finished with you yet.”

Jungkook had heard of orgasm denial, probably in passing from Jimin or Taehyung, or a word that had flagged up online, but he wasn’t prepared for it, as Yoongi stroked him to near-completion and brought him back down, till Jungkook was writhing under him, feeling fog cloud his thoughts and only feeling Yoongi, Yoongi’s hands, Yoongi’s mouth, his overall presence that made Jungkook want.

“Jungkook?” Yoongi pressed, after Jungkook had come down from another near climax and was laying on the bed feeling boneless, “Jungkook, what’s your colour?”

“Colour?” Jungkook lifted up his head blearily and looked at Yoongi, who’d stilled completely and looked worried. “Oh. My colour. Green, it’s green.”

“Okay. I wanted to make sure, you seemed a bit out of it.”

“In a good way,” Jungkook sighed. “I liked it. Like it. It’s okay.”

“Okay.” Yoongi seemed a bit more sure of himself, but leaned down to fit his mouth over the tip of Jungkook’s dick, which made Jungkook gasp and kick out.

“Hyung, can’t – ah, can’t hold it,” Jungkook panted, feeling it rapidly build within him after a series of denials.

“You can cum in my mouth, it’s okay,” Yoongi coaxed, doing something with his tongue that Jungkook didn’t understand but felt very acutely, and that was enough prompting for Jungkook to tip over the edge, coming in ropes into Yoongi’s mouth. Yoongi remained still throughout, till Jungkook was spent and he was lapping away the last few traces.

“It’s sensitive,” Jungkook whined, jerking away, but stilled when Yoongi pressed a hand to his hip. “Green,” Jungkook said automatically, and winced at Yoongi’s mouth working over him, but felt a thrill at being forced down and made to be still. It made him think maybe he’d missed out on this, on quietly being commandeered by Yoongi, but it was happening now, so there was that. “Oh god,” Jungkook said in silence when Yoongi had detached his mouth and was licking at the corners of his mouth. “That’s, that was a lot. Have you done this before?”

“In a way,” Yoongi said in that infuriating way that never elaborated, or answered the questions Jungkook wanted answering. “I used to dom for this guy in the past. A friend of mine.”

Jungkook gawped at Yoongi. “Not … Hoseok-ssi?”

“No, he and Namjoon are kind of a thing. Or not. I’m not really clear?”

It sounded like Jimin and Taehyung. Jungkook understood.

“Who, then?” Jungkook settled back, like they were having a comfortable conversation in bed and Yoongi hadn’t just let Jungkook come in his mouth. Yoongi might still have been hard.

“This guy called Sangwoo.”

“Jung Sangwoo?” Jungkook’s mouth was hanging open. He shut it, at Yoongi’s look. “The really good-looking TA?”

“Yeah, I think he even goes by that name too. We were close, for a while.”

“You dommed him?” Jungkook thought back to the intimidating shoulders and moody glowers that made people gravitate to him even more, though Jungkook thought privately that it was meant as a warning sign. “He’s all … muscly.”

“Doesn’t mean anything,” Yoongi shrugged. “Doesn’t bely preference.”

“So why did you think I was a top?” Jungkook poked at Yoongi’s back with his foot.

“You seemed to swing that way, beyond all the muscles.”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing,” Jungkook grinned. “You like the muscles. Right?”

“Yes, I like the muscles,” Yoongi intoned, like Jungkook was forcing him to say it (Jungkook knew he wasn’t). “You just didn’t seem … like you’d ever want to bottom. Which is fine.”

“I guess I’m full of surprises,” Jungkook shrugged, prodding Yoongi at different points in his back to see if he’d react, but Yoongi was a no-go. “I don’t really bottom, but. I don’t know. Seemed like you’d take care of me, so.”

Yoongi’s gaze softened, a barely noticeable movement that Jungkook wouldn’t have seen if he hadn’t been studying Yoongi’s expressions.

“So, you know,” Jungkook said to break up the intensity of the sappy moment they were having, “If you ever want to top me, that’s fine too.”

Yoongi snorted. “Subtle,” he said, but his eyes were roving over the expanse of Jungkook’s body. Jungkook’s dick was already perking up again in a way that was almost painful, because he’d just come, but there was something about being under Yoongi like this, at his control, that seemed to transcend refractory periods.

Yoongi shouldered down and kissed Jungkook, whose hands flew up to touch Yoongi’s face, drunk on the taste of him. They could have kissed forever, if there weren’t more pressing things digging into Jungkook’s bare thigh.

“Need some help?” Jungkook offered, palming at Yoongi’s erection. Yoongi groaned, a noise that seemed to slip past his lips, but Jungkook savoured all the same. “You’re still clothed.”

“And you’re completely naked,” Yoongi returned huskily. “Roll over for me?”

“Oh God, okay,” Jungkook said, his body prickling with anticipation. He rolled onto his front and shuddered at the drag of his dick against Yoongi’s sheets. He rubbed his face into the crook of his arm, waiting, senses heightened. He heard the click of a cap open – “You have lube in your room?” – and a quiet rustle as Yoongi sorted things.

He felt Yoongi press against his back as he leaned down, his mouth right by Jungkook’s ear. “Might be cold, baby,” Yoongi murmured, and then the warmth of him disappeared, making Jungkook want to seek it out again. His focus shifted when he felt Yoongi’s hand brush over his ass. He arched his back and pushed back into Yoongi’s touch, shameless about it. “Just relax,” Yoongi said, and pressed the first finger into Jungkook. It was harder than Jungkook realised, because he kept clenching against Yoongi’s finger, welcoming the intrusion. Yoongi realised as much too, because he murmured, “Greedy baby,” but continued with the slow press.

He was so slow, and careful, which made Jungkook feel a number of things he hadn’t really felt before during sex, but Jungkook was also leaking against Yoongi’s sheets and wanting Yoongi’s dick in him already. He wanted to say as much but then Yoongi had found his prostate, and Jungkook was spilling what pre-cum he had left onto the bed, like a knee-jerk reaction.

“Yoongi-hyung, please, I want it, please,” Jungkook moaned, muffled from where his head was pressed into the sheets, canting his hips against Yoongi. Yoongi put a comforting hand on Jungkook’s hip and said,

“Relax, baby, hyung’s got you.” If that wasn’t hot enough, accompanied by the stretch of another finger into Jungkook, which burned more this time, and Jungkook keened, surprised at how much he liked the burn. Yoongi’s fingers, which Jungkook remembered being long and artful from having them in his mouth, didn’t disappoint, gently probing inside Jungkook and brushing against his prostate ad-hoc, but enough to keep Jungkook on the edge.

“I’m beginning to think you’ve got a kink for orgasm denial,” Jungkook huffed, a little brattish.

“Maybe I do.” Yoongi’s voice sounded like he was smiling. “Good boys wait.”

“I’m a good boy,” Jungkook protested, burying his head deeper into the sheets to disguise the flush that painted his entire body.

“Yeah, you are,” Yoongi murmured, finally adding a third finger in, which felt really full. Jungkook fingering himself on the off chance that he was alone in the apartment and had the hours to indulge, never quite compared to the sensation of having someone else’s fingers inside of him – particularly Yoongi, who seemed to delight in bringing Jungkook to the edge and keeping him there. It was probably because it made him more desperate, Jungkook reflected, hardly aware that he was pushing back onto Yoongi’s fingers. And Yoongi liked how it felt, to be over Jungkook like this while he was desperate.

Yoongi played with Jungkook for a little while, slipping his fingers in and out until the slide was easy, having stretched Jungkook to a point where he was asking for Yoongi’s cock.

“Need it hyung,” Jungkook begged, back arched, like a bitch in heat. “Need your cock, please, been wanting it for a while, I – I’ve been good, promise, just give me your cock.”

“Are you that desperate?” Yoongi asked, his voice dropping a notch. He sounded disapproving and it made Jungkook’s dick leak. “You need my dick that badly?” He curled the fingers inside of Jungkook as if to prove a point, and Jungkook gasped, struck by the pressure against his prostate. Yoongi didn’t seem keen to make Jungkook wait any longer, because there was the sound of jeans being unzipped and Yoongi was adding, “Okay, baby, hyung’s got you, you can have it, you can have my dick.”

Jungkook turned, so that his face was angled away from the bed sheets and he could just about see Yoongi – looking sexed-up but so gorgeous, hair ruffled and sporting a high flush on his cheekbones. His mouth was an alluring pink. Jungkook wanted to kiss him again. He watched as Yoongi fiddled with the buttons of his jeans and realised, with a thrill, that Yoongi wasn’t going to take off his clothes. He was going to fuck Jungkook like this, clothed, with just his dick poking out while Jungkook keened and moaned, naked under him.

Jungkook had to wait some more while Yoongi slicked himself up and rolled a condom on, which was becoming torturous. Yoongi’s hand looked graceful, veiny against Yoongi’s dick as he took it in hand, and angled it so it was pressing against Jungkook’s asshole.

“Colour, Jungkook?” Yoongi reminded, rubbing the blunt tip over Jungkook, smearing the lube everywhere. Jungkook felt it run down his thigh and throbbed at what a mess he was making.

“Green, hyung, please –“ Jungkook broke off when he felt Yoongi’s dick enter him, a slight burn that dissolved into one, long, gratifying slide. Yoongi settled when he was seated in Jungkook, waiting for Jungkook to adjust. Jungkook didn’t say anything, just drew away from Yoongi and threw himself back, so that he was fucking himself on Yoongi’s cock. Yoongi didn’t protest, gripping at Jungkook’s hipbones – and then his ass, fingertips digging into Jungkook’s skin.

“So good for me,” Yoongi said airily, though Jungkook could hear it, how affected he was by this. It drove him on, made him fuck himself back harder, though propping himself up like this was beginning to make his arms tremble, shake from the effort. “So pretty like this, Jungkook,” Yoongi cooed, holding on tightly as Jungkook sweated and shook, fucking Yoongi with vigour. “I knew you’d look good like this.”

“Wanna be good for you,” Jungkook gasped, punctuating every point by throwing himself back. His arms trembled, and gave out, collapsing onto the bed.

“You’re so good for me, Jungkook,” Yoongi said, and started to thrust into Jungkook with such force that mocked his ministrations just now. There was no way to describe it properly, pressed down into the mattress and letting Yoongi take charge, hands on Jungkook’s hips and dick deep inside, thrusting with enough force to make the bed shake. When the headboard began to rock and bang against the wall Jungkook wanted to laugh, but got distracted when, on a well-aimed thrust, Yoongi slid over Jungkook’s prostate.

Hyung,” Jungkook keened, shocked with the sudden spike of pleasure. “Oh my God. There, please, there.”

“I’ve got you,” Yoongi said, sounding choked, and aimed at it again. Jungkook’s brain felt like it was going to explode, body consumed by how it felt, to be fucked by Yoongi like this. Jungkook wasn’t going to last, he knew that was apparent, but was surprised by the intensity of his second orgasm, climbing up inside of him.

“I, Yoongi-hyung, can’t,” Jungkook wheezed out, unable to formulate words properly. “Gonna come, gotta come, can I –“

“Yes, God, fuck, come, Jungkook,” was Yoongi’s answering moan, which prompted Jungkook to wrap a hand around himself and tug, two, three times, moaning muffled into the mattress as he came, clenching around Yoongi with each pulse. Yoongi didn’t say anything, just made a strangled sound, and his thrusts stopped abruptly and his hands dug in as he came into the condom. 

Jungkook’s head throbbed as he came back down, his body feeling spent. He shifted, reminded of the fullness of Yoongi inside of him. Yoongi didn’t seem particularly inclined to move out of Jungkook, as they both caught their breath, but did when their breathing slowed and things went quiet.

“Jungkook? You’re okay?”

Jungkook rolled onto his back, likely spreading the come he’d spilled onto Yoongi’s sheets, and smiled at Yoongi.

“Never better. Can we do that again?”

Yoongi looked caught off guard, preoccupied with taking the condom off and disposing of it properly. That’d be two used condoms in their rubbish now, that they’d have to get rid of discreetly.

“Yeah, if you enjoyed it.”

“Is that another way of saying Was it good for you?” Jungkook teased. Sex fuelled by a mutual dislike of one another had been hot, maybe even hotter; but it didn’t replace the sated feeling Jungkook had, melted into Yoongi’s bed with no intention of leaving just yet. There was no urgency, no ducked glances – they were still brushing up against one another like this on Yoongi’s single bed, and it was comfortable. 

“Yeah, hyung, it was good for me. I haven’t bottomed in a while and honestly? I feel stupid for it.”

“It was more than me just topping,” Yoongi pointed out. “I kind of dommed you too.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook sighed. He realised Yoongi was searching his face, looking for reassurance. “It was good. Great, hyung. Really.”

“If you want to tell me my dick was massive now’s the time,” Yoongi said with a small smile. Jungkook opened his mouth causing Yoongi to quickly add, “You don’t have to really.” Jungkook laughed, stretching out so that his legs were on Yoongi’s lap, soaking in the contact.




That was the turning point. Jungkook woke up with Yoongi – in his bed, because Yoongi’s sheets had had to be thrown into the washing machine and apparently he didn’t have another set.

“You don’t have another set?” Jungkook asked, aghast. “How have you been living?”

“Just fine,” Yoongi replied, looking mulish. “Why?”

And there was a bit of tension there, that Jungkook couldn’t ignore, because this was the first time they’d shared a bed even if they’d been sharing the same space for the course of several months; but Jungkook decided to tackle it directly and ask Yoongi out.

“Just so you know, I don’t put out on the first date,” Yoongi told him, sounding almost serious enough that Jungkook believed him. Jungkook laughed, outright, surprised that Yoongi was this funny. He said as much, and Yoongi frowned. “You’ve just never appreciated the humour,” he said, leading to Jungkook mollifying him, saying that he’d always laugh at Yoongi’s jokes from this point forward, to which Yoongi seemed satisfied by.

But they were college students, first and foremost, and Jungkook had a week’s worth of work to catch up on, not disregarding the classes he had later that day. They scheduled the coffee date – small, casual, an atmosphere where they’d both be relaxed (“Though I’ll dress up whenever you decide to take me to dinner, hyung,”) – for the next day. Jungkook met Yoongi at a café on campus, not far from his usual meeting spot with Jimin and Taehyung, who’d been pestering him for information ever since Jungkook had let the words I have a date slip.

Jungkook had sent the message Tell you later, which had done the reverse of satisfy their questions, to the point where he had to switch his phone off upon entrance to the café. Yoongi was already waiting for him, looking nervous, complete with beanie and a faded, oversized band shirt. He looked so cute Jungkook wanted to kiss him, but he held off, because they were actually trying at getting to know one another, rather than kissing first and asking the questions later. Jungkook wanted to get kiss first, ask the questions later printed on a shirt, and he said as much to Yoongi when they’d chatted through their history and everything was more open, which Yoongi hadn’t been receptive to.

“I couldn’t talk you seriously if you got that,” Yoongi said, over Jungkook’s answering squawk.

“I didn’t know you were such a clothes snob, hyung!”

“I’m not,” Yoongi replied, not rising to the bait.

“So you’ll let me express myself whichever way I want?”

“I’ll let you express yourself,” Yoongi agreed readily. “I just won’t be with you when you do it.” He dodged the bagel Jungkook threw at him, landing neatly in his lap.

In the course of one coffee date, Jungkook learned Yoongi wasn’t good at expressing his feelings – in Yoongi’s own words – he didn’t always like to share space – which Jungkook could have gleaned already – and he was in his fifth year of music production. There was more too, bits and pieces about Yoongi and everything that came together to form the person sitting in front of Jungkook, which Jungkook tried, fruitlessly, to store away. When they returned from their date Jungkook privately opened up his notes app and his phone, and typed down everything Yoongi had told him.

It explained all the ensuing moments where Jungkook appeared and gave Yoongi something he liked – the doughnuts from the other café that Jungkook had bought him that one time; cups of coffee, with increasing regularity because Yoongi didn’t really sleep when it came to his work; stickers, for Yoongi to put in his work books because they needed “flourishing, hyung, it’ll look so much better” that Yoongi accepted bewildered but Jungkook saw them in his book later; and anything else Jungkook could think of, which often included baked goods.

The first time Jungkook entered the music rooms on campus where Yoongi dwindled hours away, he had a black coffee in one hand and a bag of tea cookies in the other. He had to wander through an apparent labyrinth of studio rooms and lecture halls, till he spotted Hoseok exiting a room and sprang on him, grateful.

“Jungkook-ssi,” Hoseok said, looking startled, but his face slid into recognition when he saw the baked goods Jungkook was brandishing. Jungkook guessed that meant more than once, Yoongi arrived at the music rooms with the baked goods Jungkook had bought him.

“Hoseok-ssi,” Jungkook returned with a smile. “You don’t know where Yoongi-hyung is, do you?”

Hoseok pointed him in the right direction. “I’m heading off for the moment, but. It would be nice to see you again, sometime. And your friends! They were nice.” Jungkook spied a blush on Hoseok’s face and wondered how much Jin had told him about what had happened between him and Taehyung.

Yoongi looked half-dead when Jungkook entered, presuming him to be Hoseok – he sat up when he saw it was Jungkook, going so far as to make grabby hands at the bag Jungkook was holding. Jungkook gave it up without much resistance, feeling warm inside watching Yoongi drink the coffee he’d bought and savour the tea cookies.

“It’s like I’m your sugar daddy,” Jungkook joked. Yoongi, through a mouthful of cookies, moaned. “Hyung.”

“I wouldn’t even care, Jungkookie, you bring the best food.”

Jungkook bumping into Hoseok had been no accident. Hoseok texted him, that very evening, with an invite to a gathering.

An actual gathering this time. Promise.

Jungkook went with Jimin and Taehyung because, really, there was no use in hiding this from them, and it had been at Hoseok’s request. They met at Hoseok’s apartment, which looked a lot more open and homely during the day, where Hoseok, Namjoon, Jin and Yoongi were already, in the middle of an intense card game. Jungkook took his place next to Yoongi, who curled an arm around Jungkook’s waist as way of greeting, while Jimin and Taehyung scattered out, becoming engrossed in conversation with the others within minutes.

If Yoongi had lost because Jungkook was distracting him with kisses dropped on Yoongi’s shoulder, Jungkook would take full credit for it. Yoongi wasn’t a sore loser, anyway, declaring his departure from this game with a flourish.

“Young love,” Jimin sighed, watching Jungkook and Yoongi together.

Jungkook smiled, pressing himself closer to Yoongi. Under the dim light of Hoseok’s apartment bulb, their hands brushed together, finally interlocking. If this was what they had now, Jungkook was more than okay with it.