Archive of Our Own

Yoongi was in a bad, bad mood. He was trying hard not to project that onto anyone, but Namjoon still sighed long and low. And Hoseok, propping his chip up in an upturned palm, rolled his eyes and said, completely no nonsense, “Okay, so what’s your damage?”

Yoongi pursed his mouth and looked down at the diner menu before him. Like he or anyone who’d spent their entire childhood in this safe, small town actually needed to read the menu to order. Case in point, Namjoon sighed again, and Hoseok waved down the waitress (and she was the same one from their middle school days, a seemingly ageless thirty to fifty something-year old aunt-like figure who gave them free refills like it was no big deal), briefly enough to tell her, “The usual, auntie.”

She nodded and then cooed at them. “So, you’re on break? How did your first semester at college go?”

Namjoon beamed and answered for all of them, “Great!”

Hoseok nodded encouragingly and Yoongi tried to not look so sullen in her general direction. She gave them all a happy thumbs up, though her eyes scanned over the three of them carefully before she said, “There’s usually more of you, aren’t there?”

Yoongi made a wounded noise in agreement, and then groaned at how Hoseok’s eyes went sharp and pointed accusingly at him. Meanwhile, Namjoon smiled winningly at the waitress, and said, “Our finals ended up finishing at different times. They’ll be home eventually, but we’re the first ones out.”

As the waitress hummed in reply and she and Namjoon struck up a generally polite conversation, Hoseok leaned in close to Yoongi and poked him ruthlessly. “Oh my god, I should have fucking guessed.”

“Oh my god, fuck you,” Yoongi groaned again, trying to dodge Hoseok’s assault. It was to no avail, and Hoseok got a few more solid jabs in. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Then stop moping -- you literally skyped Seokjin this goddamn morning.”

Yoongi finally had enough and batted Hoseok’s hand away, who, always a good sport, understood that Yoongi really didn't want to be touched anymore and cut it out. “Yeah, but like,” Yoongi gestured meaninglessly with his hands, glancing away from Hoseok’s gaze and inspecting the festive garland on the diner’s window sills. “He’s getting here like two days before Christmas once you add in travel time. That’s so long from now.”

Hoseok made a noise of realization, a quiet little, “Ahhh,” that Yoongi didn’t feel great about. Namjoon, since the waitress had gone back to tell the cook their orders, re-entered the conversation with a calm sort of interest. “What’s up?”

“Seokjin told Yoongi his flight dates,” Hoseok informed him matter of factly. “So, he’s super bummed, now.”

Yoongi had a faint inkling of suspicion, especially at the way Namjoon winced a little, and simply said, “Oh.”

Yeah, like that wasn’t suspicious. With narrowed eyes, Yoongi pressed Namjoon, the weak link when it came to deception. “What do you mean ‘oh’? Oh? You guys... knew he was coming this late, didn't you?"

Up until this morning, Seokjin had hedged on his travel dates since December had started, claiming to not know or to not remember since the dates of his finals were more important. None of their other friends had volunteered the information either, and what the fuck, they’d actually known?

Hoseok sipped at his gross, pulp-filled orange juice and said sincerely, as if he were telling the truth and was in the right here, “I don’t like the accusations you’re going for here.”

Namjoon, however, started wringing his fingers together and said gently, “Well, okay, so his mom knew his itinerary since, like, December first.”

Hoseok, not ever one to lose the beat of a conversation, said without pause, “Like we could have told you during finals. You would have stressed about it on top of stressing about finals. And now... well, you’d been having a good break until today, haven’t you?”

Yoongi groaned again, louder and longer and more dramatic, and slouched in the booth. “Great, so all my friends are dirty filthy liars.”

“Lying by omission doesn’t make you a ‘dirty filthy liar’,” Namjoon countered. “Plus, your mom told us to hold off so you’d actually chill out and recharge your first few days back.”

Yoongi wasn’t actually angry or upset about it -- and he wasn’t surprised to hear his mom’s involvement in it. He was just bummed because this revelation, that Seokjin was going to be the last one back in town when all Yoongi wanted was to cuddle with him, was new and still a little raw. Yoongi grunted a sound that he hoped conveyed to Hoseok and Namjoon that he wasn’t that ruffled over their collusion.

“Hey, cheer up, sad kid,” Hoseok told him kindly, with a genuine little smile. “He’ll be here before you know it.”

“And then you’ll be totally inseparable,” Namjoon agreed, even as he cozied up to Hoseok, likely subconsciously.

Yoongi could have pointed out the unintentional hypocrisy, but instead decided to focus on how they meant well. At least Seokjin was coming home for Christmas. Taehyung, for example almost hadn’t, which then meant Jimin almost hadn’t, because the rest of them were, apparently, chopped liver. Luckily, Jungkook had basically had a fit over it and they were going to get the gang back together for the holidays after all.

Just. Seokjin was going to be the last one back. No big deal, though, Yoongi thought nodding along with Hoseok and Namjoon’s attempts to cheer him up. They’d only spent a whole entire semester apart already, was all. Whatever.

"I had a dream about us," Seokjin told Yoongi, when Yoongi called during Seokjin's dinner break from studying for his last few finals.

Over the line, Yoongi snorted -- but Seokjin could imagine in his mind's eye how Yoongi was maybe blushing. "What, are you being a dirty old man on me now? Trying to phone sex me? Gross."

"Mm, no," Seokjin hummed out. "First of all, I don't think you can use 'phone sex' as a verb. And it wasn't like that. Not this time, anyway."

Yoongi spluttered. "This time, oh my god -- "

Seokjin laughed, and took a bite of food, waiting for Yoongi to quiet down so he could describe what it was like. That'd be a bit hard though, to be honest, since all he really remembered were general impressions. Holding Yoongi's hand, walking under a gray overcast sky. Snowflakes caught on Yoongi's scarf as Yoongi pushed it under his chin and said something mellow and sweet.

Seokjin had wanted to kiss him, while Yoongi squeezed Seokjin's hand in his and gave their linked arms an experimental swing. Maybe they were in a park? Or maybe they were walking along the river, bloated from the frozen rain and melted snow, on the outskirts of town and exploring the nearby woods. Mostly, Seokjin remembered Yoongi talking to him and Seokjin watching his mouth move and wanting to lean in and kiss him.

" --kjin?"

Seokjin blinked and realized he'd zoned out. "Ah," he said, caught off guard. "Sorry. Yeah, it wasn't really anything special. We were on a really cute date." He intentionally lilted his tone up, made it sound teasing so Yoongi would give him a bigger response than usual.

It worked, as Yoongi made an affronted noise over the line. "Don't say stuff like that when you're not going to be home for ages!"

Seokjin laughed again, and tapped his spoon against the papery cardboard edge of his frozen dinner. The sacrifices that had to be made in the dinner department for efficient studying were horrible. "Sorry, sorry. Ah, but also in the dream, all I wanted to do the whole time was kiss you." Maybe that was too soul-baring, but Seokjin didn't know how else to be around Yoongi.

"God, I wish," Yoongi said, mellow and sweet. Just like in the dream. Just like Seokjin remembered him, always. "Mm, good luck with your tests. And hurry up and come home."

Seokjin pushed his unappetizing dinner away, for the moment no longer hungry -- though he was sure that wouldn't last. For right now, though, he was horribly homesick and heartsick, and he wanted to focus on how Yoongi sounded, forlorn and over the phone as it may have been. "I will. Love you, dummy."

"Love you, jerkface. So much. I hate this."

"Me too. But..."

Yoongi cleared his throat, but when he spoke his voice still wavered. "Yeah, I know, I know. You gotta go. Hang in there."

"You too."

Once the line clicked and Yoongi was gone, Seokjin sighed and eyed his abandoned laptop and the piled-up work left for him to do. He wanted to be anywhere but where he currently was, but he turned back to his dinner so he could finish up and then diligently get back to work.

As much as Yoongi missed Seokjin being around, the days dragged by in classic vacation style. Things were nice and slow, which was much needed after finals. Yoongi slept in and took naps and lethargically messed around with pet project music files while watching the snow fall in a grey, misty blanket over the town outside his window.

It wasn’t bad, and as Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook came home in that order, he found his nights usually spent with the others, gathered in someone’s basement playing video games or huddled up in someone’s room with the space heater on full blast and chatting about nothing important.

“You had your obnoxiously cute, daily skype call with Seokjin this morning?” Hoseok asked, playing with Yoongi’s toes through his heavy wool-knit socks. “How’s he doing?”

Yoongi turned a page in the book he was skimming through (which, honestly, was an old favorite of Seokjin's) and tried not to sigh. He was trying not to be a downer when, except for Seokjin being absent, he genuinely was enjoying most of the time off. “No, it’s crunch time for him, so we’re putting it off until he’s done.”

The last contact they’d had was a quick phone call, during which Seokjin had sounded tired and wrung out but trying for optimistic. It had left Yoongi at a loss for words, because how did you cheer up someone going through finals when you’d long since finished yours? Afterwards, out of guilt, Yoongi had ended up flipping through some of Seokjin’s favorite books and writing too-trite lyrics about their contents, as if he was ever going to show Seokjin or something to make him feel better. Yoongi most definitely wasn’t, because they were some seriously bad and self-indulgent lyrics.

All Yoongi really accomplished was, for some reason, getting this weird, heart-hurting feeling -- something like sadness creeping up his throat and trying to suffocate him by making him feel oddly close to crying and what the fuck. He only really managed to chase the mood away by going outside and wandering around to take hazy landscape pictures.

Hoseok, his kindred soul who was possibly way too plugged in to Yoongi’s smallest expression changes, seemed to pick up on all the unsaid Yoongi was leaving out. He made a quiet, empathetic cooing noise, pressing an apologetic thumb to the arch of Yoongi’s foot, massaging his instep. “Aw. How are you doing, lovesick baby?”

Yoongi lightly kicked at Hoseok’s arm with his free foot. The random act of violence had no power or anger behind it, just a grumble of annoyance. “Stop giving me shitty nicknames. I’m fine.”

He really was fine, though he was also increasingly horrified to keep finding out that he was apparently much further gone for Seokjin than he’d ever realized before now. Seokjin sounding sad and trying not to over the phone was nearly almost reducing him to tears. When had that happened? God.

“I’m actually eating real food and sleeping more than three hours a day,” he contested when Hoseok didn’t look convinced. “That’s a huge step up from during the school year. So, I’m not as miserable as you’re making me out to be.”

“Yes, you are,” Jimin chimed in happily, passing by the two of them on the couch on his way back from the kitchen, a coke in hand. His tone was teasing, but Yoongi also knew Jimin meant it. “But good job on making do, I guess.”

Yoongi glared at where Jimin was settling into a lounge chair with Taehyung sitting on the floor between his legs. He pointed accusingly at Jimin leaning down to hand Taehyung the soda and leaving a little kiss on his forehead before sitting back up, like that wasn’t incriminating at all. “Uh? You and Taehyung literally threatened to not come home at all if you two couldn’t be attached at the hip, so where do you think you have a leg to stand on here -- ”

“Hey, if you’re gonna tense up while I’m working out your foot tension, I’m gonna go make out with Namjoon instead,” Hoseok threatened, more putting a stop to a play-fight than actually caring about the state of Yoongi’s foot tension. Yoongi and Jimin knew that, and let the exchange die before it could start, both looking sheepishly to Namjoon for further instruction on how to appease Hoseok. Namjoon only shrugged, like, just listen to Hobi and there won’t be any problems.

Jungkook was the one to ease the atmosphere back to laidback, mumbling comically, “Oh yum, foot-hands while making out -- sounds ideal.”

Taehyung gasped delightedly at Jungkook’s dig, and said, “Hey, it’s somebody kink, I’m sure.”

Namjoon, Yoongi decided not to point out, was in fact looking vaguely enamored that Hoseok was including him in threats and ultimatums despite how, yes, Hoseok’s hands were currently massaging Yoongi’s socked feet with kind dedication.

It was maybe because Namjoon was looking at Hoseok in a way that reminded Yoongi of being fond and in love that he decided to relinquish Hoseok. Yoongi was a self-affirmed sap, and his sentimentality was what had him giving up a Hoseok-offered pity massage -- something that was rare and to be coveted. Still, he pushed Hoseok away with his feet and nodded towards Namjoon.

“Whatever,” he said casually, crossing his arms, book still in hand, and leaning back against the couch arm. “Go make out with Joon, then.”

Hoseok paused long enough to gauge if Yoongi really meant it. Then paused longer still to make sure the look he gave Yoongi heavily implied that he thought Yoongi was an idiot, but a sweet idiot, before he slid off the couch and walked over to slip into the armchair that Namjoon was perched in.

Yoongi rolled his eyes, though Hoseok couldn’t see that as he murmured, “Don’t mind if I do,” to Namjoon (who literally giggled) and leaned in to kiss delicately at the tip of Namjoon’s nose. It was sickeningly cute, Yoongi thought, and something that he’d love to do to Seokjin.

The assigned kitchen area in his dorm room (i.e. the corner with their contraband microwave and shared miniature fridge) was clean, Seokjin thought, surveying his handiwork. The common room was clean too, things sorted and contained to each roommate’s individually assigned spaces. He’d just run the vacuum and wiped down the tables and desks, and was pretty sure this was the best he was going to get for last-minute clean up before leaving for two and a half weeks.

The space felt open and wide, though it was still the same little matchbox-sized dorm split between three college students that it had always been. Maybe Seokjin was just pushing his unadulterated optimism onto things, because he’d finished up all his coursework -- thank goodness. No more projects or presentations or --

Seokjin’s phone buzzed and he startled a little before looking at it. It was his mom, sending him updated information on his aunt’s frequent flyers’ credits. She’d decided to transfer them to him as a late birthday present-early Christmas gift so he could catch an earlier flight. She’d luckily thought it was a shame that he would otherwise be flying in a scant few days before Christmas, and pulled some VIP member strings to get him a discounted seat on something a couple of days sooner. Seokjin was very very thankful, because he shared that sentiment.

Clutching at his phone, staring down at the little serial numbers and terms and conditions, Seokjin felt jittery with excitement. He was going home and was going to get to sleep in his own bed and eat his mom’s cooking, and -- Yoongi. His friends, and Yoongi and Christmas --

Seokjin moved his suitcase by the door and went to go unplug the little cheap light up Christmas tree he and his roommates had bought from the corner drugstore. Unplugging it made the room feel more sterile than anything, unlived in now because Seokjin was the last one around, but that was fine. He was one foot out the door by this point, just needed to catch the bus to the airport and to get through customs and be on his way. Soon to be home.

Yoongi wasn’t the biggest and most important part of going home -- because Seokjin loved his family, and was ready to see them first and foremost. However, Yoongi... was pretty up there priority-wise, if he was being honest with himself.

Seokjin had an entire bookmarks folder that was just recipes that Yoongi might like to try making together, and some of the entries were absurd things like gourmet poached eggs or ‘luxurious breakfasts in bed’ lists. Seokjin had another completely separate folder full of do-it-yourself craft projects that were things he thought Yoongi might enjoy doing, and also were subtly all things Seokjin was planning to have in their shared apartment he envisioned them getting once they graduated and moved in together.

Once Seokjin found the time and place to show Yoongi some of those projects, he planned to conveniently leave out that second part, though. It was... mostly inconsequential right now, and had the possibility to be overwhelming with Seokjin’s expectations that Yoongi hadn’t weighed in on yet. That could be stressful for him, Seokjin figured.

Seokjin knew he could be a lot compared to Yoongi’s not-so-much. After all this time, Seokjin had learned to ascribe himself as a little more heavy-hitting with the blatant emotions. Not a lot, as he was pretty good at playing things close to the chest, actually. But he liked to share positive emotions, things that made him feel good as they made him feel good.

That was a big difference between them, Seokjin found -- because Yoongi was just as emotional and intense, but internalized more about even the happy things, and especially about the bad things. It was weird, but Seokjin kind of felt like he and Yoongi were really similar but then also completely dissimilar in this one highly specific way that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

As inconclusive as his thoughts on the topic were, Seokjin did know that dumping on to Yoongi that, Hey, I picture us living together and am making you build this small garden table that I’m planning on putting on the little patio our apartment in five years has to have for us to even think about closing on the lease, was a lot. It was a surefire way to get Yoongi overthinking and freaked out about everything and then nothing that was in either of their control.

Seokjin sighed softly to himself, thinking about the familiar way Yoongi’s eyes got wide and round when he was about to freak out before Seokjin cut him off at the pass to get him to chill out. It was only okay when it wasn’t a big deal -- over things like picking pizza toppings, suddenly deciding names for the sugar gliders Seokjin had bought without telling anyone beforehand, choosing what complimentary colors to paint each other’s fingernails for their couples’ Halloween costumes. Things Seokjin could reasonably calm Yoongi down about.

But with potentially-big things like this, like Yoongi wondering if Seokjin was really willing to stick around until death did them part (which fuck, yeah, he was and that was a thought that freaked out even the usually calm to devil-may-care Seokjin, so he always tried to not dwell on it too much) -- that wasn’t...

That was a warranted panicking session, for both of them. And Seokjin just liked that fuzzy feeling that looking up furniture and decorative mason jars for his and Yoongi’s future decor gave him. He’d handle the rest of the baggage of implications that came with it later. The rest of the heavy stuff wasn’t necessary for now.

For now, Seokjin was going to go catch his bus and then his flight and get home and be on break. And on break, he was going to eat way too many Christmas cookies and hold Yoongi’s hand while walking in the backwoods in the snow and make unnecessary, too-extravagant breakfasts together with him when they could just walk down to the local diner and share a pancake platter and endless hot chocolate refills.

Seokjin was under him on the bed, naked in all his broad shouldered, tapered waist glory. Yoongi was so lucky, he thought to himself, leaning in to map a trail of kisses down Seokjin’s chest. Seokjin was soft and broad and big and Yoongi’s.

Yoongi eyed Seokjin’s soft-looking nipples and soft-looking belly and the way his ribs expanded out ever so slightly with every breath in he took. There was always so much to look at and to touch and kiss when Seokjin let him do this. Let Yoongi strip him and lay the both of them out midday and take an inordinate amount of time just following the map of Seokjin’s body.

Seokjin was gorgeous and Yoongi couldn’t use his words yet to say how deeply in love he really was, but he could do this. Could touch Seokjin gently in all his softest places, could maybe convey through his fingertips Till death do us part, you heart-stealing jerk. I fucking never stood a chance against you.

It was nearly unfair, Yoongi thought, seriously how much of a chance he'd never had against Seokjin. Looking at Seokjin, sprawled out beneath Yoongi with a flush high on his cheeks and red all the way down to his naked belly, Yoongi smiled and leaned in to leave a kiss against Seokjin’s blushing skin --

-- only to jolt awake at the sound of his brother yelling for their mom from downstairs.

...Ah, he realized, thoughts muddled but managing this one realization: it had been a dream.

Yoongi, bewildered, confused, and blinking in what had to be the near-noon rays of light filtering in through his blinds, he laid in bed while trying to calm his heartbeat. From the shouted exchange between his mom and brother, Yoongi realized they’d found some last minute new wreath additions for their already overly-decorated house.

Yoongi, counting up to and down from ten over and over again to ground himself in reality, eventually rolled onto his stomach to bury his face in his pillow and exhale very, very slowly. Seokjin was coming back in, like, two days or something. He could get through two more damn days without having off-the-wall dreams and being generally even more pathetic than he’d managed to be so far. That was the bare minimum of expectations he could have of himself, so if he could not let himself down, that’d be great.

After debating thoroughly with himself on whether he should possibly just sleep through the next few days until Seokjin showed up, he decided any behavior that favored the same shit that accompanied depressive lows was courting disaster. Last thing he wanted was to accidentally induce an episode or something, and knowing his asshole brain that’s exactly what he’d end up doing.

Still, it took Yoongi another ten minutes to shove off his sheets and sit up, and then another five minutes before he actually crawled out of bed and went to take a shower. Maybe he’d go walk around town and take photos again today, since he was feeling kind of down.

Once he finally made his way downstairs for food, it was going on firmly afternoon. A quick check to his phone showed an obscene number of missed calls and texts from Hoseok, Namjoon, and Taehyung. And Yoongi... just didn’t want to deal with it.

Something about dreaming so vividly about Seokjin, about his subconscious tricking him about Seokjin being back, made him more sullen than usual over things. And anyway, he’d spent practically every day hanging out with the others so far. Today, he felt like taking some time to himself.

After getting roped into the decorations debacle his mom and brother had fussed up, Yoongi bundled up and took his camera and went out on the town to get some scenic photos, leaving his phone on silent. It was a jerk thing to do, to not even check his messages or to give his friends a heads up that he wasn’t interested in hanging out, but it also wasn’t like this was the first time Yoongi had opted to maybe rudely withdraw from social interaction until he was up for it, and they knew that. Whatever, it was what it was.

Because it was the afternoon, Yoongi did know he’d missed the best light of the short winter day, but he wandered around town and took shots of the skyline, of people bustling around for gifts, and of holiday storefronts, anyway. He knew full well that he was disastrously sulking by this point, staying out in the cold for no real or good reason, but it was his break and he could choose to be a disaster if he wanted to be.

The light was definitely getting harder to work with though, he thought, clicking through his gallery to consider the last several dozen takes. Maybe he’d call it a day, go somewhere warm for a hot drink. Maybe see if anyone wanted to go see a movie, even though he’d ignored them all day.

That did sound like a good plan, Yoongi thought to himself, looking up from the viewfinder to check the fading light of the sky once again. Yeah, he was probably done here. And while Hoseok and Jimin were probably going to give him grief over being off-putting today, Namjoon and Taehyung would at the very least be near-immediately down for a movie. Jungkook could go either way, depending on how much he decided to tease Yoongi about it...

“Yoongi!”

Yoongi blinked, frowning up at the sky at the call of his name. Weird, he thought. Because that sure sounded like...

Frowning even harder, Yoongi shook his head to clear it, and heard again, more insistent and much much closer: “Yoongi! ”

Yoongi, afraid to look and be mistaken for a second time today, afraid his brain was still playing tricks on him, slowly looked over his shoulder and -- Seokjin? Was that really Seokjin, jogging down the sidewalk after him?

It... was. As Seokjin reached him, came to a stop before him and paused to catch his breath, Yoongi had no choice but to admit that yes, this was him. It was Seokjin, no coat on and cheeks rosy from the cold, all big and broad and right here in front of Yoongi. His hands were on his hips and his pretty mouth was pursed in an unhappy pout, and Yoongi couldn’t believe it.

“So,” Seokjin huffed out, breath coming out in white clouds. “So, you don’t check your phone now, that’s a thing you do?”

Honestly, Yoongi could barely hear and process Seokjin’s words over the buzzing in his brain. Seokjin was here? Why was Seokjin here? Had Yoongi gotten the days wrong or -- but who cared, it was Seokjin --

Yoongi took a lost and dazed step toward Seokjin, and surprisingly Seokjin stopped talking, and even stopped looking annoyed. Immediately, his hands dropped from his hips and instead were reaching for Yoongi.

“I’ve been here since this morning,” Seokjin said, voice subdued and a little hurt-sounding. “You made me wait -- ”

Yoongi’s hands met Seokjin’s halfway, before they both simultaneously pulled each other in for a hug, Yoongi immediately slotting his nose in the dip of Seokjin’s collarbone and taking in his smell. Seokjin’s skin held a residual warmth from the indoors, but was chilled from running out into the cold after Yoongi -- after Yoongi’s dumb dumb self, since this morning? That meant this morning he could have been sniffing the way Seokjin was wearing the cologne Yoongi had bought him last year for his birthday, instead of having ephemeral kind of dirty dreams about him. Ugh.

“Sorry,” Yoongi said breathlessly, kissing the side of Seokjin’s neck tenderly in apology. Yoongi’s touch was probably freezing to Seokjin, having wandered around outside all afternoon. “I’m an idiot. You know this.”

“Dummy,” Seokjin said fondly, and he was the one to push Yoongi back -- only so they could kiss. And with Seokjin’s soft, chilled lips working against his own, Yoongi felt like all was right in the world.

The rest of the day was a blur for Seokjin, after finally laying his eyes on Yoongi. It’d been a hectic day and a half or so anyway, since catching his flight and all his connections the previous night, getting in and catching up with his family for hours on end before basically passing out to sleep, then waking up at a decent time to shower and eat and then go find his friends.

He hadn’t expected it to be necessarily difficult to meet up with Yoongi of all people, even though some silly part of him hadn’t wanted to call Yoongi outright and proclaim ‘I’m here!’, because... Well, because Seokjin was silly, and because there was something romantic about showing up days early without announcing his arrival.

Of course, when the others couldn’t get a hold of Yoongi either and it turned into everyone blatantly just trying to catch him and tell him what was up, Seokjin was over the romantic surprise part of it all.

Yoongi was so dumb, Seokjin thought fondly after dragging him in from the cold to the nearest refuge -- a thrift store that perpetually smelled like moth balls and lavender. “Can’t believe you made me wait,” he told Yoongi, probably repeating himself as Yoongi pressed firm, sure hands at Seokjin’s waist and pulled him in closer.

Though Seokjin was playing it calm and collected, his heart was racing, looking at Yoongi’s short little eyelashes and the melting snowflakes dotting them white. He was wearing a cream-colored beanie and was looking up at Seokjin like he was both lost and found. Or maybe that was Seokjin projecting, because he’d honestly missed Yoongi so much and now that he had Yoongi right in front of him, the opportunity of choices was nearly overwhelming.

“Sorry, you weren’t here and I didn’t think you’d be back for a while and I got sad about it,” Yoongi explained, hands tight vises around Seokjin’s middle, like he never planned on letting go. He was leaning in and in and in, and their kissing was an inevitable like this, Seokjin equally as drawn in as if pulled by gravity. “Plus -- well, I had this dream about you this morning.”

“Hm?” Seokjin had draped his arms over Yoongi’s shoulders. “Tell me about it?”

Yoongi flushed a little, which had Seokjin smiling -- that told him everything he needed to know. “Oh? One of those kinds of dreams, huh?”

Yoongi leaned completely in to press his lips to Seokjin’s jawline, and Seokjin felt a tiny bit of dampness as Yoongi mouthed at the skin. “Shut up, it wasn’t completely like that. We were just kissing and stuff.”

Seokjin laughed and ran his hands in soothing circles along the parts of Yoongi’s back he could reach. “And stuff?”

Yoongi full on swiped his tongue at Seokjin’s jaw, and Seokjin could tell that it was part retaliation to get him to stop teasing, and part Yoongi just wanting to be closer and closer to Seokjin and that was one way to do it. Seokjin wasn’t complaining: his tongue was warm, though the small patch of saliva he left behind cooled quickly.

Yoongi pulled back and stared into Seokjin’s eyes, expression a little squashed and squinted like he was trying to be unhappy but was too elated to pull it off properly. “You may have been naked at the time, okay? I’ve been thinking about your stupid nipples all afternoon.”

That surprised a laugh out of Seokjin, who felt his cheeks heat a little in embarrassment and happiness of being thought of like that, even when he was supposedly hundreds and hundreds of miles away. Knowing that he was quickly turning red, Seokjin tucked his face against the side of Yoongi’s and nuzzled at Yoongi’s ear a little vindictively. “God, I guess this means you win at being the bigger sap.”

Yoongi was grinning, Seokjin could hear it in his voice, when he said, “You’re blushing, aren’t you? Are you swooning, Kim Seokjin?”

Seokjin nuzzled harder, more vindictive. “Ugh, shut up, Min Yoongi.”

And that had been their afternoon -- eventually, they headed back to the arts shop where Seokjin and the others had been hanging out and hand-painting tree ornaments. Of course, their entrance into the store and Yoongi’s attempts to casually integrate into the situation were quickly overtaken by catcalls and teasing from their friends.

Considering the something like thirty minutes it’d taken for the two of them show back up after remembering that Seokjin had literally run out after Yoongi when Taehyung had pointed out, Hey wait, isn’t that Yoongi?, Seokjin did feel it was mostly called for. Seokjin would admit to that, even if it did mean Yoongi refused to pay for and decorate his own ornament afterwards in embarrassment. Or maybe he’d just found it more satisfying to sit beside Seokjin and offer unnecessary tips and comments while Seokjin finished his.

Now, in the evening, the gang had ended up over at Seokjin’s to make Christmas cookies and watch television specials and, in Seokjin and Yoongi’s case, to sneak off into the kitchen under the premise of checking on cookie batches but inevitably ending up making out.

Right now, Yoongi was perched on the kitchen island, locking the leg he had wrapped around Seokjin as to pull him in as close as possible. Yoongi's other leg was pressed against Seokjin’s front, making its way wedged between Seokjin’s thighs. Yoongi was incorrigible and inappropriate, Seokjin thought with huge amounts of affection, highlighted by how Yoongi had a hand stuck up Seokjin’s festive Christmas sweater and was just softly and nearly sweetly touching one of Seokjin’s nipples.

Seokjin knew the whole thing probably looked lewd, but it wasn’t really. Well, maybe the way Yoongi was trying to work his thigh as snugly as possible against Seokjin’s groin was a little lewd. But the being wrapped up in each other, and the nipple touching and the way they were having a casual conversation while sharing little kisses and nosing at each other’s faces, that was Yoongi being just as sweet on Seokjin as he was on Yoongi. Seokjin loved it.

“Oh my god,” Seokjin heard Jungkook’s voice, then heard hurried footsteps as Jungkook retreated back into the living room. “Don’t go in the kitchen, they’re conjoining.”

That made it sound like he and Yoongi were having illicit kitchen sex, which Seokjin would have refuted except he didn’t much care. Not with Yoongi scoffing and explaining, lips moving softly against Seokjin’s cheek, the details of all the ways he’d missed Seokjin ever since break started. Seokjin’s fingers, curled into the muscles of Yoongi’s mid-back, scratched lightly in reassurance.

“Sorry you had to go through that,” Seokjin murmured apologetically, and he shifted to kiss Yoongi softly on the mouth to drive the point home.

Yoongi tilted his head to capture Seokjin’s mouth again, a little more deeply, and he nipped at Seokjin’s bottom lip, which made Seokjin huff out a bright peal of laughter, an almost giggle. Yoongi then paused in his ministrations to shift, letting the leg wrapped around Seokjin fall away as he scoot forward a bit on the counter.

Yoongi was balancing on the near-edge of the counter, and his leg was fitting more snugly in the soft space between Seokjin’s thighs. Seokjin sighed softly at the contact and watched him curiously, wondering what he was attempting now.

He jumped a little as both of Yoongi’s hands landed firmly on his rear, broad hands squeezing and pulling Seokjin in as close as possible against him. “You good?” Yoongi took a moment to check, clearly noticing Seokjin’s startled response.

“Mm, fine,” Seokjin murmured back, ducking to hide his face against Yoongi’s cheek. He kissed the soft skin tenderly and briefly while he was there. “Happy, you know?”

Yoongi laughed, so gentle and low that Seokjin only heard it because of proximity. But it was true, that Seokjin was happy -- because he and Yoongi were tangled up in each other, inappropriately so perhaps, in Seokjin’s kitchen. It was because of moments like this that Seokjin loved having Yoongi in his childhood home. Somehow, having grown up together all their lives, having been falling in love with each other all their lives, it just felt right.

And even after saying goodbye to the others and sending them off, then leading Yoongi quietly upstairs to sneak him into his room, sneaking him into his bed to lay together and kiss each other softly and breaking a bunch of house rules but not caring -- even then, it felt right. Easy and simple and uncomplicated.

Yoongi kept pressing insistent fingers at the sensitive skin along the dip of Seokjin’s waist, skin on skin. And it was fine, because Seokjin kept cupping Yoongi’s cheek, scaling his own fingers along every line, every detail, every rise and fall of Yoongi’s face, memorizing it like a map of the way home.

The watery winter sun was barely filtering in past Seokjin’s curtains, but Yoongi roused with it anyway. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, Yoongi became suddenly aware of Seokjin’s hand on his back, a soft tracing of his fingers from the nape of Yoongi’s neck to somewhere about shoulder-level.

Yoongi laid there and mentally mapped the little mindless patterns Seokjin was drawing out, the little nothing-in-particulars. Usually they fought at least minimally to be the little spoon, but it was early morning and they were both still far too drunk on each other’s presence to fall into their usual occasional push and pull.

Seokjin had one hand at Yoongi’s back, and the other arm was draped across Yoongi, hand hovering at level with his chest. They were tangled up in each other, Yoongi completely enveloped in Seokjin’s embrace, and Yoongi realized dimly, slowly, that he could feel the little puffs of Seokjin breathing against his back. That had to mean that Seokjin was curled in close to him, nose probably mere millimeters away from touching Yoongi’s back.

This guess was confirmed when Seokjin pressed his nose in-between Yoongi’s shoulder blades, the hand on his front trailing down to the end of Yoongi’s sternum and stopping right above the fleshy start of his stomach. “Hey,” Seokjin said, muffled against Yoongi’s skin. “Good morning.”

Yoongi felt like he wanted to cry, and he carefully layered his hand atop Seokjin’s, interlacing their fingers. Oh man, he thought to himself and he stroked his thumb along the outer line of Seokjin’s pointer finger. Man, I fucking love you. “Morning.”

“Feeling better?” Seokjin’s voice was sleepy and hazy, and this was one of Yoongi’s favorite versions of Seokjin. Just waking up, blurred on the edges and just a little confused. He yawned, and his hand had moved to Yoongi’s lower back, the slight dip of his spine, to continue tracing lightly there.

“What, that you’re here?” Yoongi questioned. His voice was husky with sleep too, but he’d always been a bit quicker to wake up. Even though Seokjin had woken up earlier than Yoongi, Yoongi felt a little more aware than Seokjin appeared to be right now. “Of course.”

Seokjin laughed, lethargic. Syrupy slow. He drew a heart on Yoongi’s skin, and Yoongi wasn’t sure if he was supposed to pick up on that or not, so said nothing.

“You loooove me,” Seokjin teased. “Mm, so what do you wanna do today, loverboy?”

Yoongi laughed a little. “Oh god, don’t call me something that cheesy. Anyway, your break just started. What do you wanna do?”

Seokjin drew a heart again, more slowly and more deliberately. “Hang out with you,” he said simply.

Yoongi’s grip on Seokjin’s hand tightened, and he tried his best to reciprocate by drawing a heart along the side of Seokjin’s finger. It was hard with just his thumb. “Yeah, but doing what?”

Seokjin hummed and used his lips to trace out a heart on Yoongi’s back, then pressed a delicate kiss to the middle of it. “Whatever. Anything. Wanna get the guys and go to the diner?”

Yoongi was so damn in love, and felt like he probably would have agreed to anything Seokjin asked him to do at this point. “Sure,” he said faintly, moving his and Seokjin’s intertwined hands to press them to Yoongi’s beating heart. “If that’s what you want.”

Seokjin hummed again, and Yoongi hummed back and felt at peace.

Yoongi wasn’t in Seokjin’s lap per se, but he was sitting sideways in the booth, back against the wall and legs stretched out in front of him. Seokjin just happened to also be sitting the same booth, and so Yoongi’s leg were draped over Seokjin’s lap. Seokjin liked it, because it meant he could reach down and touch the rounded points of Yoongi’s knees every now and then, a reassurance that Yoongi was right here, close enough for Seokjin to touch -- and for their friends to scoff in disgust at their PDA.

“I regret everything,” Hoseok teased, and beamed when Jimin groaned in agreement and Yoongi over-aggressively rolled his eyes. Seokjin, palms cupped around Yoongi’s bony kneecaps, ignored the insult (though nodded gratefully at Taehyung insisting, “Well, I love love, and you should too,”) and turned to Namjoon explaining something to a captivated Jungkook, the two of them staring at Namjoon’s phone.

“What are we talking about over here, people who aren’t awful?” Seokjin asked them sweetly. Beside Seokjin, Yoongi snorted into his mug of hot chocolate.

Jungkook looked up with sparkling eyes, while Namjoon was more hesitant. “Er, we ended up on this wikipedia spiral, and are now grappling with the fact that pulp,” Namjoon gestured to his glass of orange juice before him. “Is apparently called... juice vesicles.”

“Isn’t that just, I don’t know, the grossest thing,” Jungkook insisted excitedly, which Seokjin had to sort of agree with. He tapped at Yoongi’s knees thoughtfully and nodded.

Taehyung, at the opposite end of the table from them and giving up on espousing the importance of loving love to a teasing Jimin and Hoseok, leaned forward dramatically to say, “What, tell me more right now immediately.”

Hoseok sighed, though he looked at Namjoon like Namjoon was the cutest thing. Which Seokjin could relate to in some ways with his own boyfriend (and he carefully patted Yoongi’s legs at the thought).

“I can’t believe you’re talking about fruit balls, apparently,” Hoseok said. This had Jimin cracking up -- and beside Seokjin, the two of them taking up a whole booth by themselves, Yoongi laughed as well.

Namjoon spluttered, “I said vesicles not ‘vesticles’ or testicles or whatever! Hobi, come on, don’t be like this.”

“Vesicles,” Seokjin pointed out with the full intention of being the chaotic neutral in this scenario. “Is just a fancy way of saying fluid-sac. Or cyst, even. So...”

“Gross,” Jungkook reiterated gleefully.

Namjoon, wide eyed and devastated (though Seokjin could see the smile blossoming on his face because Namjoon was a terrible and terribly cute actor) stared at the rest of them and said, “This is exactly why I wasn’t planning on sharing with the class.”

The whole exchange was silly and familiar, and beneath Seokjin’s palms (and Yoongi’s layers of jeans and then long johns) his boyfriend’s body heat was pleasantly warm. Seokjin tucked his hands under Yoongi’s legs, letting the hinging of the backs of his knees trap Seokjin’s hands in place, and Seokjin grinned to himself when eventually he could feel Yoongi’s pulse from the twin arteries there.

It was weak though, his pulse, and maybe Seokjin was imagining it. Was superimposing the memory of time he’d done this last summer with Yoongi in shorts, when he had counted Yoongi’s heartbeats while Yoongi had talked endlessly about the kind of music he hoped to make at college.

Suddenly concerned, suddenly not quite close enough, Seokjin untucked his hands and reached over to cup a palm at the pulse point of Yoongi’s jugular, his touch tentative and hopefully non-threatening against the side of Yoongi’s throat.

Yoongi barely even paused, was currently talking and simply leaned his weight a bit more into Seokjin’s hand, and Seokjin tuned back in to Yoongi directing at Namjoon, “ -- and anyway, if you drink pulp orange juice, you’re the devil incarnate.”

“I’d say that’s a little harsh,” Namjoon countered lightly.

Hoseok’s nose was scrunched up, and he regarded Yoongi with pseudo-distaste. “I’d say that’s a direct attack at me and my person, since I like pulp orange juice -- it’s fun to chew on the pulp.”

Seokjin scaled his fingers along each vertebra of Yoongi’s neck, careful and deliberate, but he grinned at Hoseok. “I bet, if we tried hard enough, we could find a dick munching joke in there somewhere.”

“Why,” Hoseok whined, though Jimin and Taehyung beside him were laughing, Jimin slumped over on the table and squeaking. Seokjin accepted the applause, taking a presumptuous little bow.

Hoseok wasn’t done whining. “Listen, I don’t appreciate this!”

Jimin interjected, gasping for breath but managing, “What, even though it’s true -- ”

Hoseok easily and smoothly talked over him. “I’m just saying that this is uncalled for. It’s been a lovely morning so far, even with Seokjin and Yoongi trying to merge into one gross mega-person.”

“I thought you thought we were cute?” Yoongi shot back, looping his fingers around the wrist of the hand Seokjin was using to feel Yoongi's pulse. Yoongi then gently rubbed his thumb along the inside of Seokjin’s wrist, the soft skin prickling at the touch and shooting shivers through Seokjin.

“It’s very cute,” Namjoon assured them, and when Seokjin looked away from Yoongi (when had his eyes wandered back to Yoongi to start with...?) and at Namjoon, he noted that Namjoon was vaguely flustered and looking everywhere but directly at the two of them in their booth together. “A little overly intimate, but hey. We all knew this was coming.”

It wasn’t like Seokjin didn’t understand that they very much had a point about his and Yoongi’s quiet but constant touching. He also knew that they’d put up with it, if only because he and Yoongi had no plans of stopping. Still, he’d try for compromise. “We’ll detangle ourselves to eat,” he promised. “Just bear with us until then?”

It wasn’t like it was actually a problem. Seokjin knew it and Yoongi knew it too, that the others were just picking on them a little. Were definitely pointing out how absurd it was that he and Yoongi craved each other’s constant little touches. But as Yoongi’s fingers stroked along Seokjin’s inner wrist, as Seokjin felt Yoongi’s pulse beneath his touch, all on this peaceful morning with powdery light snowfall and no school as they sat in this small familiar diner they’d grown up going to...

Well, not much else really mattered to Seokjin, was all. Not right now, with Yoongi by his side and gazing softly over at him, looking as gently at peace with the world as Seokjin felt. Seokjin took a sip of hot chocolate, watched Yoongi do the same, and all he could do, with happiness spilling over every part of him, was smile.