Chapter Text
In all honesty, if there was someone against his back, 8 times out of 10 it tended to be Jungkook (Jimin took up another 1, while the other five divided the remaining 1 between them).
It was a habit that had started early on. Their maknae was far more shy than most people assumed, and had especially struggled when he’d been younger. It was a challenge to get him in front of non-Big Hit cameras at first, the younger hiding behind one of his hyungs as often as not when they weren’t performing. It wasn’t always Namjoon that he hid behind, since the leader was typically the center of attention as the designated spokesperson for the group. Seokjin was another favorite, with his height, broad shoulders, and comforting presence being the perfect cover for the young boy. As much as they had all worried for him and tried to help him step forward more, it was admittedly kind of cute and funny to watch interviews and broadcasts back and try to spot his, at the time, small form.
But as he’d grown physically, he’d also grown socially. He no longer hid himself away, and though he’d always be introverted, he was more comfortable standing on his own now, something they were all thankful for.
It had been a shock, though not completely unexpected, when Jungkook had outgrown them. As much as they sometimes teased each other for their heights, the final difference wasn’t too drastic for most of them, with only a few centimeters between Namjoon and Jimin. But the fact that Jungkook had started off so small made his gained height feel all the larger. They could all remember a time when even Yoongi had been taller, so the fact that he only had to look up a little to meet Namjoon’s eyes now was… something.
Though Jungkook no longer felt the need to shelter himself away behind his hyungs, and was honestly no longer capable of doing so in the same way, he still ended up at their backs. Part of it was making sure that all of the members could be seen, part of it was the occasional light teasing over heights, and part of it, Namjoon assumed, was comfort. Jungkook didn’t really hide behind them anymore, but he sure loved to rest his head on their shoulders. During filming, during interviews (especially the ones in America), at home, and anywhere else he felt the urge.
So when he felt someone that was too tall to be Jimin at his back, he could almost be certain it was Jungkook.
Namjoon was in the middle of talking with the guest producer they had invited in, thanking him for his effort and discussing the song they’d worked on, when he felt a weight on his shoulder.
It was light. The person’s head barely touched his body, almost hesitant. When Namjoon didn’t move at all, the weight increased just a bit, and he knew it was their maknae. Tae and Hobi usually threw more of their weight on from the beginning before backing off and settling back in once more. Jungkook, though, he was always so cautious with things like this. He handled his hyungs with care, especially him and Yoongi. With the other members of their vocal line, he’d play around without a care, and Hoseok was so affectionate with the younger that he couldn’t help but lean into it, but Jungkook sometimes seemed to treat the remaining two rappers like they were a precious thing to be watched rather than touched. That behavior had only increased after Yoongi’s surgery, every touch achingly gentle.
Not to say that Jungkook never messed around with them, because he was also a little shit sometimes and neither Yoongi nor he were able (or even wanted) to resist him, but he had his moments of… not quite shyness, but something similar. Reverence, maybe.
“If the opportunity ever comes up, I’d love to work with you again,” Namjoon said with a smile and a slight bow of his head. Jungkook moved with him, the pressure never changing. The producer’s gaze hadn’t left Jungkook’s face this whole time.
The man’s eyes quickly shot between the two of them before finally settling on Namjoon once more. With a smile that was a touch more bemused than it had been before and a bow of his own, they wrapped up their conversation and he left the two of them alone in the hallway.
Namjoon sometimes wondered what other people saw when they looked at their group. He wondered what thoughts and preconceptions had been formed about them, and how those ideas changed after meeting and working with them.
Some, he knew, didn’t believe that they truly cared for each other as much as they appeared to, thinking that that was more of a played up marketing tactic. That once the cameras were off, they’d all shuffle away from each other, nothing more than amiable coworkers ready to clock out for the day.
But what you saw was what you got with them, to be honest. There really wasn’t any huge difference. Sometimes they were a bit calmer behind the scenes, a bit more professional when the situation called for it, but those relationships stayed. It still entertained him, though, to see people’s reactions when one of them would casually touch the other like normal. The double take was his personal favorite. He didn’t get to see it often anymore since they mostly worked with the same people who were used to them by this point, but every now and then an opportunity would arise when they collaborated or traveled, and Namjoon always enjoyed it greatly.
Like that, Namjoon felt like an idiot.
He’d always enjoyed those little moments. He’d always had those wordless affections. He still couldn’t figure out why he’d been hit out of nowhere with such an intense longing for them, and maybe they hadn’t always come along as often as he now wanted them to be, but they’d always been there.
And only a blind man could miss them.
“Are you ready to go, hyung?” Jungkook asked once the producer was gone. He tilted his head away, looking at the side of Namjoon’s head, but remained planted on his shoulder.
Namjoon glanced back at him, lips already turned upward into a fond grin.
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And when Jungkook bashfully pulled him into his lap after dinner, all Namjoon could do was smile and relax into the other’s embrace.
Namjoon never told them anything. He never sat them down and told them that he’d started to want more contact with them. But as with many other things, he didn’t need to voice his thoughts in order to be understood by his friends. They already knew.
He noticed all of them creating opportunities on their own, extending the offer and letting him decide whether or not to take it. Just like always.
The little moments over the years repeated themselves tenfold now. And he started initiating them more too. It felt good to wrap his arm around them without prompting, to hug his friends and hold his arms open when they hung out, knowing that he’d have a lapful of someone within moments.
It wasn’t like he’d ever not had this. It wasn’t like he’d ever turned away their touches. But now that he was actively aware of it, it felt all the more reassuring. The comfort he felt with himself and his wants, and the reflection of the bond he shared with each of them was precious to him. That little spark of uneasiness he felt seeing them together had completely fled, replaced only by warmth. After all, what use did he have for longing when he was only two steps away from a kiss or a cuddle on any given day?