It’s supposed to be a creative experiment.
Yoongi had been drunk before, had been to enough bars and after-parties to tell the heavier alcohol apart from each other, could tell whether the alcohol was of the shitty kinds that could make your hangover headache last for days, or the good kinds that never left a trace.
Yoongi had rapped drunk before, because he was an amateur when he came up to Seoul, and they don't let amateurs rap until it's 3am in the morning when everyone, even the rappers preparing to go on stage, were drunk. If the crowd was drunk enough they wouldn't care who was rapping, just that someone was carrying the beat of their bodies.
Yoongi had even fucked drunk before, because going to Seoul alone as a teenage hip hop musician wannabe was a sure fire way of getting with the bad crowd. And Ikje was so bad he made Yoongi felt good about himself, until Yoongi realized he was nothing but an asshole with a decent dick. Yoongi had been drunk, had done almost everything while drunk, but he hadn’t written drunk, and Namjoon deemed it something to be fixed.
Namjoon had thrown something about lowered inhibitions and shutting down brain filters and exposing inner thoughts blah blah blah, all kind of psychological ideas at him before Yoongi even considered the idea. And that was only because Namjoon had already gotten to Hoseok. Hoseok had came back from the experience with lyrics more vulgar than anything Yoongi's Gyeongsang tongue could come up with. Though he had blushed and blundered afterwards, Yoongi knew Hoseok had the lyrics from drunk-writing-night stashed somewhere, ready for the kid's next mixtape.
They had the perfect setting too, only him and Namjoon staying back to work on the next album while they rested for three days. It was still Seol holiday and they wouldn't have schedules until next week. He heard Jin, Jimin and Jungkook making plans for some swimming. He could hole up inside the work room and no one would even be suspicious. So one day, Yoongi locked himself and Namjoon in their five-square-meter work room, Namjoon brought his secret stash of booze, and they conducted an experiment on the writing talent of a drunk Yoongi.
The point was to stay sober enough to tackle writing coherent words but drunk enough to not care how the words string together, so Yoongi had to drink slowly. Namjoon was drinking too, but someone had to look out for trouble, the managers were only 2,3 doors away. The leader was the designated sober person and he was not allowed more than two bottles of beer.
They started with take-out food spread over the table and soju being poured. It would take a while to get Yoongi drunk enough, so they might as well be productive for the time being. They went over the old songs, discussing what worked with the public but wasn’t popular with fans, what worked with fans but remained just another name on their discography, and what didn’t work at all. Namjoon was debating fighting for the next title track to be composed entirely by them. Which meant Yoongi only, honestly, and Yoongi fervently said no. He wasn’t confident enough to put their careers on his shoulder.
Namjoon pulled out the fan survey results again, wielding it over Yoongi like a weapon. Something about ‘Tomorrow’ being such an impactful song, about how they could mix their musicality into a public-friendly track and finally, finally getting that push of a hit song.
Yoongi knew Namjoon was desperate these days, it had been two comebacks since they had the public’s favour, their big break was right at their finger tips. But Yoongi didn’t agree with Namjoon’s logic, and the main thing was, he wasn’t comfortable enough to produce the title track. And if Yoongi wasn’t comfortable, his music was going to come out shitty. Namjoon knew as much, damn him.
So as all things he and Namjoon didn’t agree on went, they started fighting about it. Or more accurately, Namjoon fought for it while Yoongi sat there pretending to spend energy on the conversation.
He was staring at the bottom of his shot glass, wondering how early it was in the morning. Yoongi had drank until his third bottle, so he was tethering at the edge between sobriety and drunkenness.
Namjoon sighed, exasperatedly, and Yoongi looked up to find Namjoon raising eyebrows at him in a very condescending manner.
He growled, too lazy to talk. Namjoon just made him lost his train of thoughts on new lyrics. Something about flowing water. Yoongi hoped it came back. He doubted it would.
“Hyung, are you drunk?”
“Piss drunk, Joonie.”
Namjoon laughed at him this time, and Yoongi was irritated by the sound. It grated on his nerves, scratching raw like chalk on a blackboard.
“We agreed to go slowly, hyung.”
“Your alcohol is shit. It doesn’t go in until now.” – Yoongi frowned and kicked at the empty soju bottle sullenly. It rolled away, until it hit Namjoon’s ankle and stopped.
“Your digestive system needs time, hyung.”
Yoongi was a tiny bit dizzy, the wall behind Namjoon was tilting in such a distracting way, and he could feel the headache coming. He wouldn’t be able to work like this.
He walked over to Namjoon, because the kid was currently hoarding the couch while Yoongi was sitting on the uncomfortable armchair of the work desk. That needed to be rectified. He shoved the kid to the side, dropping down onto the couch. Leaning back finally had his tired spines and his head on soft, worn out leather and Yoongi sighed, comfortable. He could fall asleep like this.
Next to him, Namjoon hummed. He mumbled some lyrics under his breath, testing the flow of the words.
Yoongi stopped his eyes from following the trail of ants crawling over his ceiling, looking at Namjoon instead, hearing something unusual.
Namjoon was smiling at him, the corners of his eyes crinkling, his dimples prominent. He didn’t seem fazed that they had lost their opportunity to test out drunk Yoongi’s writing ability.
He clambered up instead, throwing his legs over Namjoon’s lap, his hand grabbing Namjoon’s shoulders so he could loom over the kid.
“What are you so happy about?”
Namjoon stiffened under him, and Yoongi realized he was too close.
Maybe getting the person you like who-may-like-you-back-but-who-even-knew drunk was a bad idea, Namjoon realized as Yoongi had somehow wedged one of his knees between Namjoon’s legs (oh God he was an atheist but please do not abandon him with a boner which Yoongi could feel) and was looming over him, his attractive stupid face only inches away from Namjoon’s.
Yoongi’s tilted his head, before threading his fingers through Namjoon’s hair.
“Your hair is so soft. How come we’re both constantly dyeing them but only your hair was good but mine was falling off?”
Yoongi said, his hand messing Namjoon’s hair into a pink mob. Namjoon was reminded of a cat, a giant sullen cat who had chosen Namjoon to play with and was petting his hair. It was kind of adorable. Namjoon caught the thought, choked back on the words because even though Yoongi’s inhibition had been lowered, he could still make Namjoon miserable if ever called adorable.
(But he was still so, so cute Namjoon wanted to squeal.)
Namjoon held still while Yoongi petted his hair. Yoongi must had taken it as a sign of acceptance, so he proceeded to putting his head on Namjoon’s shoulders, his face buried onto Namjoon’s neck. The contact of Yoongi’s nose and lips on his skin made him jump.
“Hold still.” – Yoongi murmured, and Namjoon immediately became a log of wood.
Yoongi nodded, as if pleased with himself, before wiggling around and settling onto Namjoon’s lap.
Maybe it's the combination of the musky smell of Yoongi's normal scent mixed with the smell of hours of practice sweat, maybe it's the fact that Yoongi is drunk and pliant on his lap, maybe it's the fact that Namjoon had been so stupidly liking Yoongi for ages, but Namjoon decided that this was the last straw. He circled his arm around Yoongi, and cling.
Yoongi didn’t know if he was sleeping, or he lost track of time, but as his drunkenness slipped and made way for sobriety to come back, Yoongi became aware of the fact that he was on Namjoon’s lap.
He internally freaked out for one second, exactly, breathing in deeply and letting his thought run away to unknown corners of the universe.
It's kind of comfortable, really nice even. Namjoon may looked lanky and bony, but his shoulder was wide and he was warm.
Yoongi could blame the accidental cuddling on the alcohol, and he admittedly was drunk (still was, the headache was still there and the wall was still leaning to the right a bit) but honestly Yoongi just wanted to cuddle Namjoon a bit. Ever since they moved and didn't sleep in the same room anymore, he missed slipping into Namjoon's bunk and letting their legs tangled while they went through lyrics together.
Something nicked at the back of his mind, an idea, fleeting. The image of two hands barely holding together by the connections of finger tips. Then slipping.
Yoongi almost jumped, surprised by his own thoughts. Namjoon was still sleeping like a log, and Yoongi was too lazy, too comfortable to move, so he dug out his phone, arms circling around Namjoon's neck to tap at the screen.
Namjoon stirred. His legs was falling asleep, something heavy keeping them down. He bucked them on instinct.
"Hold still. I'm writing."
And Namjoon was wide awake.
Yoongi was still on his lap.
Yoongi was still on his lap, and he fell asleep with Yoongi on his lap, and he woke up to Yoongi still on his lap and his arms hugging Yoongi like a huge teddy bear. Any illusion of alpha maleness between them was probably burnt to ashes and sent to Mars as Namjoon was sitting there, all scandalized while Yoongi wrote. On his lap.
Yoongi's knuckles knocked the back of his head.
"Don't make it weird. The kids do this all the time."
"Not me! Not you!"
"You mean they don't like each other? I'm pretty sure Jimin likes Jungkook though. I'm thinking of introducing Jimin to Mark, Jungkook doesn't deserve him."
Namjoon choked, then coughed so hard he almost dislodged Yoongi from his lap.
"Are you still drunk!?" - he asked red-faced, almost burying his head onto Yoongi's shoulder, but thought better of it.
"Yes. But I'm also awake and writing. Stop talking." Another knuckle knock, and Namjoon finally decided to think this over.
He was pretty sure he had hidden it pretty well, if not his sexuality then his preference for one of his coworkers. But apparently Min Yoongi was a man of more talent than his ability to glare down people and his tongue, for he not only knew what Namjoon tried to hide, but from the nonchalant way he addressed everyone's sexuality, Yoongi knew about everyone's secret as well.
Namjoon was amazed by the fact that he a) didn't blackmail everyone and their mothers with the information and b) seemed to understand exactly where and when to dispatch such information.
Min Yoongi was a dangerous man, but Namjoon was lucky because he was the person Yoongi... liked?
"Okay, listen to this."
"Stop thinking, and listen to this. We failed to test drunk Yoongi on his writing, so at least help me write something."
Namjoon nodded, still confused, his brain not yet finished turning its gear, but Yoongi had already launched into one of his new verses. Afer a few bars, though Yoongi didn't have a distinctive beat to the verse yet, Namjoon could clearly follow the flow and rhymes. The rap flowed like water being drank down after a drought, circling the mind and body before settling down deep in his core. The imagery of hands constantly trying to hold together and being teared apart was beautiful.
Namjoon hadn't heard of a love verse so powerful, from any rappers he had met.
And when Yoongi sighed, and mumbled the last few words, obviously foreign and likely Latin, into the crook where Namjoon's shoulder and neck met, Namjoon realized.
It's his hand. And Yoongi's.
Namjoon tightened his hand around Yoongi, and came to a decision. He let go, relaxed, letting his body settle into the warm couch, letting Yoongi leaned into him, and whispered.
The only Latin phrase he knew, he once told Yoongi.
Si vis amari, ama.
He pressed a soft smile onto Yoongi's skin, and he was quite certain Yoongi smiled back.