Chapter Text
“Hyung, I’m cold,” Yoongi said, his words escaping his mouth before his brain could filter them.
The truth was, he didn’t really know what had made him say it.
It wasn’t even true. Not inside of the dorms, at least, where the heating system was permanently on and the hardwood floor always warm under their feet. Their room was no exception – warm and cozy, the faint smell of deodorant and the pleasant scent of Seokjin’s fragrant shampoo filling every space.
Perhaps it was that, now that he thought about it – Jin’s scent, sweet and manly and delicious, flooding Yoongi’s brain.
Or, and this was what Yoongi preferred to believe, perhaps it was the alcohol.
His mouth still tasted of cigarettes and of the soju he had drank with Namjoon a little over an hour ago, after the two had spent far too many hours locked up in their studios and reached the conclusion that they were too uninspired to come up with anything good enough for the album repackage. They decided to go for drinks instead, something they admittedly didn’t get to do as often anymore. There was a nice little restaurant that they visited every once in a while, always in the dead of the night, when the streets were deserted; when they were so physically exhausted after hours upon hours of dancing that they could barely keep their heads up; when they were so blocked creatively speaking that they needed a little pick me up in the form of a green bottle and the bittersweet burn of soju to get the engines of their brain running again.
The purpose of it, as usual, was to clear their heads up a little bit; to ‘unclog the links between their braincells so synapsis comes easier, like a neurological spring-clean’, Namjoon had said, whatever he meant by that. But, as usual, one bottle of soju turned into two, and then into three and a half, and then Namjoon started feeling bad and looking even worse, so Yoongi decided to call it a day and head back home before a tragedy happened.
He himself wasn’t drunk, though.
(He and Jimin were the best in the group when it came to alcohol tolerance, which was something they were extremely proud of since they were also the two shortest.)
Almost two bottles of soju weren’t enough to get him drunk, though they could probably make the filter in his mouth fail and make it easier for intrusive little thoughts to slip out here and there.
And Seokjin had long since become an intrusive thought.
It was almost three in the morning when he opened the door to the room he shared with the older boy, after helping a stumbling Namjoon into his bed and tying a plastic bag around his wrist if anything ugly were to happen during the night.
He had expected Seokjin to be asleep.
Seokjin should have been asleep.
It was almost three in the morning, and Seokjin should have long since gone to sleep so Yoongi wouldn’t have to deal with seeing his goddamn handsome face when he wasn’t sober enough to handle it properly, without fearing his mouth would betray him.
But no.
The moment Yoongi opened the door, as quietly as possible, he saw that not only was the light of their bedroom on, but also that Seokjin was sitting up on his bed looking very much awake, his legs crossed, a sheet mask clinging to the soft and already flawless skin of his face, one earphone in his ear and the other dangling freely, his tongue peeking out as he played some game on his Nintendo console. He looked up at Yoongi as soon as he was aware of his presence, though, and he smiled at him in greeting, and perhaps that was Yoongi’s ruin.
Yoongi wasn’t drunk, he really wasn’t, but shit, he didn’t have to be intoxicated to be affected by Jin’s smile, which fucking sucked because Jin smiled an awful lot.
A few minutes later, the lights were off.
It was late, and Jin had just been playing a little Animal Crossing while going through his skin care routine before going to bed. Yoongi brushed his teeth and changed into his sleeping clothes (with, admittedly, a little difficulty), but he didn’t bother to get under the sheets, so he just laid on his bed as he heard the familiar rustling of Jin’s legs and feet against the sheets of his own bed just a few meters away from him.
His mouth still tasted a little stale even after brushing his teeth, and the soju hadn’t been enough to get him drunk, but it had definitely gotten to him to a point, definitely did something to the links between his braincells, because one moment he was lying on top of his bed, thinking about how cute and handsome and warm Seokjin had looked in his huge pink hoodie and his sheet mask when he walked into the room and found him playing a ridiculous videogame at three in the fucking morning like some kind of freak, and the next it felt like everything was cold. Or rather, like everything that wasn’t Seokjin was cold.
“Cold?” Seokjin asked in an incredulous voice as he accommodated in his bed, and Yoongi wanted to slap himself because it wasn’t cold. It was everything but cold. It wasn’t even that cold outside, but inside of their room it was pretty much hot, but there he was, saying he was cold.
“Yeah,” Yoongi went on, despite that part of himself that kept rolling his eyes at him in disapproval. “A little.”
Seokjin hummed, and it seemed like he had finally found a comfortable sleeping position because he stopped moving around. Yoongi wasn’t looking at him, though – Yoongi didn’t want to look at him, so he kept his eyes trained on the plain white ceiling that looked kinda blueish in the darkness.
“There are extra blankets in the closet in the hall,” Seokjin told him as if Yoongi wasn’t aware of that fact, not bothering to lower his voice and consequently sounding a little too loud for the tiny dark room; a little too loud for Yoongi’s tipsy brain.
“Yeah,” Yoongi repeated, feeling a little dumb by how fuzzy the sound of the older boy’s voice was making him feel.
“You probably caught a cold, or something, while you were out drinking with Joon,” Jin said, probably unaware of the way his stupid voice made Yoongi feel. “It’s not that cold, you know. Not even outside.”
“Maybe that’s it, yeah,” the younger hummed, running a hand through his black hair to ruffle it and give it some form after wearing a snapback for more than twelve hours in a row. “Why are you still awake, though? It’s fuck o’clock, you should’ve been sleeping when we got back.”
Seokjin snorted at that, humored.
“I don’t know,” he said, and when Yoongi chanced a glance in his direction he saw that he was looking straight at him, his pink hair all over the place and a mysterious smile playing on his lips. His vision swirled a little bit at the movement of his head, but then it fixed upon Jin’s face. “I just couldn’t sleep. I get a little restless when you’re not in your bed, you know? Your snores help me fall asleep.”
“Hey,” Yoongi complained, even if he couldn’t help but laugh softly at the older boy’s words. He tried to ignore the feeling that settled in his chest, but it was so hard. “I don’t snore. I never snore.”
Seokjin chuckled.
“You’ve snored a couple of times before, trust me, I know,” he said, his voice finally softening. Or perhaps it was his eyes that softened when they looked at Yoongi. Or perhaps that was just Yoongi’s imagination playing tricks on him, making him see things he wanted to see and distorting reality. No way of knowing.
“I know you know,” Yoongi replied, his own voice lowering down to almost a whisper.
Seokjin didn’t look away from him. For some reason, Yoongi hadn’t been able to look away from Seokjin’s face from the moment he first looked in his direction, but Seokjin didn’t look away. He simply blinked, repeatedly, and Yoongi wanted to scream because the older boy’s little twitches always made him feel a little soft.
“Hey, Yoongi-yah,” Seokjin said eventually, pulling an arm from under his Mario cover to pat the bed next to him. “Why don’t you come over here? So you, you know… So you stop feeling cold.”
Yoongi felt his eyes widening a little at the proposal.
He would be lying if he said they hadn’t slept in the same before, because they had plenty of times. Sometimes they liked pushing their beds together to watch movies, and more often than not they ended up surrendering themselves to exhaustion and falling asleep all over each other before the movie was even finished. Not only that, but Yoongi had shared a bed with everyone in the group at least ten times in the past few years, and he knew that Seokjin had too. It didn’t matter anymore.
It shouldn’t matter anymore.
But why did it always matter to him when it came to Seokjin?
“That’s, uhm… That’s a good idea,” Yoongi said, trying to play it casual. Trying to seem like the act of sleeping next to Seokjin’s body wasn’t one of his favorite things in the world because of how warm, and broad, and firm, and just plain nice Seokjin’s body was. “Is it really okay, though, hyung?”
“Yeah, of course. Why would I suggest it in the first place if it wasn’t okay? Come on, get in here,” Seokjin said, and Yoongi saw him shuffling closer to the wall to make room for him and pulling his covers back so he could get in more easily.
Yoongi moved mechanically.
He didn’t feel like it was him guiding his own body as he sat up on the edge of his bed and crossed the short distance that separated it from Seokjin’s. Actually, it felt like there was an invisible force pulling him in and moving his body – like he was watching himself climb onto Seokjin’s bed next to the older boy and accommodating next to him, facing him, drowning in the scent and the feeling and the warmth that emanated from him now that he was in his bed.
“Your clothes are clean, right?” Seokjin asked, just to make sure, his little coy smile still adorning his face prettily. He didn’t move further away and he didn’t turn away from Yoongi, and his legs were warm under the covers. Yoongi was wearing sweatpants but he wished he was wearing shorts because Jin was wearing shorts, and what wouldn’t Yoongi give to get to feel the older man’s skin against his own—
“Yes,” Yoongi said, rolling his eyes. “Neat freak.”
Seokjin chuckled. Shrugged.
“Hey, I’m doing you a favor here. You gotta stick to my conditions at least.”
Yoongi hummed. “Hm. Fair enough. Are there any other conditions I should know, or is that the only one?”
“Well,” the other man said, stretching the vowels at the same time as he slung his arm over Yoongi’s waist and left it there, holding Yoongi in a very, very loose hug. The touch was light, casual, unimportant, but it made Yoongi’s breath catch in his throat. “A little cuddling is always welcome. Is that okay…?”
Only at the last words did Yoongi realize that Seokjin was looking at him with a little frown that accompanied his gentle smile, the subtle glint of something glistening in his otherwise dark eyes.
Jin’s eyes were looking for his, and when Yoongi focused on them he realized how close they actually were. His hands were curled into fists between his body and Jin’s and he didn’t know what to do with them; didn’t know what to do with the powerful impulse that wanted nothing more but to touch Seokjin’s chest.
“It’s okay,” Yoongi said, still looking into Jin’s eyes.
His heart was beating fast. Yoongi hated it. It was probably exposing him in the most embarrassing of ways with how loud and fast it was beating, and Yoongi kinda wanted to rip it out of his chest and hide it away in a container somewhere so he wouldn’t have to deal with stupid emotions during stupid moments like the one he had found himself stuck in. He should only have to deal with emotions when he was in the studio or on stage, turning his blood into ink and into lyrics; his spit into fire and flower petals.
He was still on auto-pilot, though, his mind still dizzy with the alcohol and with the sweet scent of Seokjin’s shampoo, and slowly, he lifted his left hand and reached forward to touch Seokjin’s cheek.
His skin was soft and warm like he knew it was, like he’d known it to be for years, and Seokjin’s eyelids fluttered at the contact. Something that felt like thunderbolts and molten lava coursed through Yoongi’s nerves and veins as he dragged the tips of his fingers, toughened skin and blunt nails, over Seokjin’s cheekbone, up and down and up again.
“That’s nice,” Jin commented, his voice sounding a little breathy. Airy. Yoongi felt the older boy’s hand settling steadfastly over his hip. Yoongi was looking at him; hadn’t been able to look away since he first looked at him while he was lying on his own bed, so he saw him when he opened his eyes after they had fallen shut almost helplessly. Saw the quirk on the corner of his lips and the way his eyes looked at his face up and down. He felt a little self-conscious, then; like maybe he should have washed his face more thoroughly before letting Jin scan him like that. He was probably noticing every flaw, every pimple, every place he hadn’t shaven carefully… Surprisingly, he spoke again, his voice just as breathless as it had been before. “Are you still cold?”
Yoongi hummed questioningly, too focused on the feeling of Seokjin’s skin under his fingertips and the way his eyes looked at him in the dark of the night that his question went completely over his head.
“I said,” Jin started, though his eyes closed again and he tilted his head slightly, pressed the side of his face deeper onto the pillow as he leaned into Yoongi’s touch. “Are you still cold?”
“Oh, that,” Yoongi said, dragging his fingertips down Seokjin’s jaw. “Not anymore, no. You’re… You’re really warm, hyung.”
“You’re pretty warm yourself,” Seokjin mumbled, a soft chuckle on his voice. After that, he squeezed on Yoongi’s hip.
Yoongi didn’t say anything, but he dared move a little closer.
He was careful not to get too close so that their legs wouldn’t end up tangling together, but Seokjin did just that – slipped his leg between Yoongi’s slightly, so that his knee was sandwiched between Yoongi’s legs. Yoongi tried not to make it too evident that he was having a hard time keeping his breath controlled, but Jin’s face was so soft, his leg was so warm, and his entire body was right there, resting beside his just a few centimeters away from him, that it was impossible for him to think straight.
Before he knew it, and before he could think twice, his fingers followed the outline of Seokjin’s upper lip, traced the corner of his mouth, and, as lightly as he could, ghosted over his lower lip. Yoongi’s eyes were fixed on them; fixed on the older boy’s pink lips and the stark contrast of his pale fingers upon them; fixed on how soft, full, and velvety they looked. They felt even softer under the pads of his fingers, if that was possible, and Yoongi could write a song about them. Yoongi could write a thousand songs about them and still feel he hasn’t said enough, like he hasn’t done them justice.
He was so entranced, so enraptured by the feeling and the sight of Seokjin’s lips, that he didn’t notice the older man’s free hand had moved from where it was resting between them until it was on his jaw. He also hadn’t realized that Seokjin’s eyes had narrowed and they were fixed on him, that his breath was coming out quicker, fanning slightly against his fingers that were still pressed against his lips. Their gazes met, and when they did, Jin puckered his lips around Yoongi’s index finger, kissing it softly.
It made Yoongi’s breath catch in his throat a surge of heat course through his entire body.
“Hyung,” he whispered, softly, with what little oxygen he had left in his lungs, and he dragged his fingers away from Seokjin’s lips so that he could press his thumb against it instead. He pushed it against the plump flesh, his eyes alternating between Seokjin’s eyes and his lips because he didn’t want to miss anything. Not the depth and darkness that had seemed to take over the older man’s eyes, his eyelids half closed and heavy, nor the way his pink lips parted, the bottom one ceding under the pressure of his thumb, his tongue barely grazing his skin.
Their eyes locked one last time before Yoongi’s vision darkened and everything that wasn’t Seokjin disappeared.
It was sheer instinct that made him move his hand to cup the older man’s jaw so he could pull him into a kiss, and he didn’t have time to feel scared about acting too brashly because the moment Seokjin’s full lips were on his, a sound of pleasure and relief escaped the older man’s throat and found its way inside Yoongi’s mouth. The kiss was intense from the get-go, and not in a bad way. Seokjin’s lips felt so good against his that for a moment he feared that it was all nothing but a dream, and he was sucking on his thinner lips so greedily, slipping his tongue into his mouth so eagerly, that Yoongi almost pinched himself to prove to himself that it was really happening.
That Seokjin was really kissing him.
That Seokjin was really holding his face with one hand, his grasp firm but gentle, fingers almost cold against the burning flesh of his cheek, while his other hand remained on his side, somewhere between his hip and his waist.
That Seokjin was really just as into it as he was, if the way his breath was coming out short and ragged, fanning against Yoongi’s face and mixing with Yoongi’s own breath, was anything to go by.
Dream or not, Yoongi wanted to make the most of it, so he sucked on Jin’s thick lips, nibbled on them, and ran his tongue over them the way he had only dreamed to do for longer than he would ever admit. His hand fell to the base of Seokjin’s neck, his palm pressed against his collarbone, and he pawed at Seokjin’s sweatshirt, grabbed at the fabric only to let go of it again. He wanted more, he wanted so much more, but he was already on the verge of collapsing just from this.
Even as the kiss died down in intensity, Yoongi could still feel his heart racing, hear it thumping loudly behind his ears. Seokjin also nipped on his own lips, and he also sucked on them playfully before letting go with a breathless giggle that ringed pleasantly in Yoongi’s ears. It was him who turned the kiss into a series of sweet pecks, all of which Yoongi returned, unable to stop a smile from spreading on his lips.
“God, shit,” Seokjin cursed, chuckling against Yoongi’s lips, and Yoongi laughed as well, causing their noses to bump against each other’s. “I’m so mad we didn’t do this sooner.”
“I didn’t know you wanted it to happen,” Yoongi defended, clicking his tongue and shrugging, but still not daring to pull away completely.
“Well, I didn’t know you wanted it to happen either, so that makes us even,” the older said, and he pressed one final kiss to Yoongi’s lips before he pulled away. His arm was now more firmly looped around Yoongi’s waist, and they were pressed closer than they had been before they had first kissed, their legs almost completely tangled together. Yoongi felt warm where he was, and he even felt comfortable enough to wrap his own arms around Seokjin’s torso. Sleepiness was quickly starting to settle in now that the adrenaline in his blood had dissipated, and the idea of falling asleep with his face mushed against Seokjin’s chest was getting more attractive with every passing second.
“Yeah, well,” Yoongi started, “we should definitely talk about this. But now we should sleep. It’s late as fuck.”
Seokjin snorted, but he accommodated himself next to Yoongi.
“Will it be a good talk that will lead to more of those kisses? You weren’t kidding when you talked about your ‘tongue technology’, but I’ll need a few more kisses to know for sure.”
“Greedy bastard.”
The older clicked his tongue and huffed, but at the same time he squeezed Yoongi around his midsection.
“Psh. Hey. It’s still ‘hyung’ to you and no amount of kisses will change that.”