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“I don’t understand the appeal of kissing in the rain,” Yoongi grumbles, throwing popcorn kernels at the screen. Namjoon laughs, the bastard, and throws some popcorn at Yoongi. One piece bounces off his nose. “Hey! Watch where you throw things! This is my studio!”
“You threw popcorn first,” Namjoon points out, and while that’s technically true Yoongi feels like admitting it would somehow be losing and he really hates losing. He especially hates losing during this time of night, when it’s late enough it’s almost wrapped itself around to being morning again, and the fluid in his veins is more coffee than blood, and he knows he should probably be sleeping but just can’t bring himself to.
“It’s my studio,” he points out again, as though he thinks this argument should be sufficient to shut down whatever it is Namjoon wants to come back with. He knows it isn’t, and he knows that Namjoon knows that he knows, but after eight years living together they both know the difference between a real argument and the ones they have for fun.
“You set a precedence for behaviour when surrounded by these four walls,” Namjoon begins in what Yoongi calls his ‘lawyer voice’, “And I as the humble guest was only mimicking that behaviour in the hopes of not causing any offense.”
Yoongi knows from long experience that when Namjoon gets like this there is no stopping him. He's going to run with it instead. “I suppose if I started cleaning then you’d have to follow, and keep going?”
There isn’t even a pause. “I would never presume to know-” Namjoon starts, and he breaks off in an inelegant squawk as Yoongi pokes him hard in the ribs. On the screen the two main characters continue to kiss, the rain soaking their hair and clothing. It looks so uncomfortable. Yoongi shivers just thinking about it.
Namjoon notices. It would be hard not to, with the two of them pressed together on the couch as they are, both tucked up against the arm for an optimal viewing angle of the television. Yoongi doesn’t have to see his face to know Namjoon is mentally rewinding the conversation for clues to the shivering. Looks like they are both tired.
There’s a quality to the air that changes when Namjoon figures it out, and a slow, sleepy grin stretches itself across his face. Yoongi fights the urge to grin in response, settles instead for a put-upon sigh and burying his face in his hands as Namjoon says, “Actually see the thing is-”
The argument devolves fairly quickly to its logical conclusion. “Not everyone hates getting wet as much as you do,” Namjoon says at the end, ticking the points off on his long fingers as he speaks, “If it’s warm you don’t get cold the same way, and it’s romantic. The bet is you’ll think it’s romantic too. When you agree you’re buying me dinner.”
“And when you find out you’re wrong, you’re buying me dinner,” Yoongi says, holding out his hand to shake on it. “And since I’m not likely to find out in the near future we’ve made ourselves yet another pointless bet to keep track of.”
“We have at that,” Namjoon agrees, grinning at him. “Now, can we finish this movie? If you don’t make it home tonight certain people really will storm the studio tomorrow.”
“Certain people can stop worrying about me so much,” Yoongi grumbles, scooping up the blankets from where they’d been callously discarded during their energetic discussion. “Certain people should recognize that I’m a grown adult who is fully capable of-”
“Movie, hyung,” Namjoon reminds him. Yoongi subsides, or at least reduces the volume of his grumbling to just-barely-audible, as he spreads the blankets out over their legs. Namjoon pats his knee in thanks.
They settle back into position, Namjoon’s arm along the back of the couch and therefore along the back of Yoongi’s shoulders, their feet fighting for position on the low table and therefore tangled together. Yoongi wonders briefly why they bother with the argument part of their conversation, this time kept to a short-for-them half hour, when they generally know how it will end within three minutes of starting.
Emphasis on ‘briefly’. He comes to his conclusion before he's even picked up his phone to press ‘play’ It’s fun. It’s comfortable. It makes something warm kindle to life in his chest. Sometimes the warmth makes its way all the way out to his fingertips, and when it does he feels like he’s flying.
He presses play. No one has to storm the studio.
***
They get on with things. Schedules, photoshoots, recording, dancing, dancing, dancing, memorizing scripts, trying to wrap his tongue around prepared phrases in other languages. It’s absolutely exhausting, so when Yoongi sees the opportunity presented by two full days without anything booked he takes it. He buys enough junk food to start his own corner store and, after careful consideration, twice as much beer as he thinks he’ll drink. It never hurts to have extras on hand.
He tells everyone he’s going to the studio and that he’s not to be disturbed for any reason. Seokjin says he had better show signs of life at least once every eight hours. Yoongi bargains him up to once every twelve (“What if I’m having a really good nap? You don’t want to cut into my sleep do you?”) and runs. Or, well, metaphorically runs. He’s not about to expend that much energy unless he’s on a stage, in front of a camera, or being chased by zombies.
It doesn’t really come as a surprise when his doorbell rings a few hours later. He’s already on his couch, half way through one of the superhero movies on Netflix, and doesn’t bother getting up. Namjoon generally lets himself in now anyways.
“There’s beer in the fridge,” he says without looking, pulling his hand out of a bag of gummies to gesture, “And snacks on the couch.” With a practiced move he flips the corner of the blanket so Namjoon will be able to sit.
“What are we watching?” Namjoon asks, getting his beer. He’s wearing an old hooded sweater Yoongi is fairly sure has been around since their debut days, a pair of equally old track pants, and slippers. The look says ‘university student’, or at least ‘university student according to what the media has told me’, not ‘world famous rap star’. It’s… Yoongi hesitates to call it charming, even in the privacy of his own head. Comfortable. Comfortable is a safer word.
“Doctor Strange, looks like,” Yoongi answers belatedly, after checking the title on his phone.
Namjoon hums as he sits down. He pulls the blanket over his lap and the bag of gummies toward him. “Invested as always, I see.”
“Those will make your beer taste strange,” Yoongi tells him, stealing the gummies back.
“Your beer isn’t any different and you seem to be doing fine.”
Yoongi sniffs, then says, “This one is my second. I’ve stopped caring how it tastes.”
It’s not the full truth, but Yoongi isn’t above telling a white lie if he knows he can make Namjoon laugh. He gets a chuckle for his efforts this time. He’ll have to try harder.
They watch the first movie. Yoongi doesn’t quite finish his can before Namjoon crosses to the fridge for his second, so he sets down the partly-empty and accepts a fresh one. They drink that too, or Yoongi drinks half of it before Namjoon stands up again, and he lets himself believe he’s had full cans, lets himself believe he's tipsier than he is. It makes it easier to relax against Namjoon’s warm bulk without worrying about if he’s somehow managed to do something wrong without noticing.
They watch a second movie, although ‘watch’ is a fairly strong word for the amount of attention they pay it. Their conversation starts slow, an idle comment about something on the screen, and then meanders, in the way that not-quite-as-tipsy-as-you-pretend-to-be conversations do. It’s comfortable, and quiet, and warm, and exactly the balm Yoongi’s nerves needed.
“This is nice,” he says, around what he thinks is midnight. He’s completely lost the plot but he doesn’t much care. The movies weren’t the point of this evening.
“This is nice,” agrees Namjoon, holding out his latest can.
Yoongi taps their cans together, saying “clink” since the cans themselves won’t make the noise, and takes a sip. The beer has gone warmer than he likes, and flat, but given the amount of sugar he’s consumed it’s probably for the best. He takes another sip, sighs happily, and settles a little more comfortably against Namjoon’s side.
Three seconds later he’s sitting bolt upright, throwing a gummy at the screen. “Again!” he says, pointing, just in case Namjoon isn’t also watching the screen and hasn't noticed what the couple are doing. “Look! Again! Rain kissing! You’re both going to be so wet, and so cold,” he adds, as though the characters can hear him, and might take his advice into consideration.
“They listened to you,” Namjoon laughs, watching as the couple sprint for cover.
“Damned straight they did,” Yoongi says with all the smug satisfaction of a person who has made the universe bend to their will. “They recognize genius when they see it.”
“I’m sure they do,” Namjoon agrees.
It sounds suspiciously like Namjoon is humouring him, by which Yoongi means he knows Namjoon is using his ‘I’m humouring you’ tone but he’s choosing to ignore it. He tucks his toes, cold, under Namjoon’s legs, warm, in retaliation.
Namjoon squeaks in surprise but doesn’t move away. He drops a hand on Yoongi’s knee instead, pats it twice before leaving it there. Yoongi can feel the warmth of it seeping through the blanket.
They go back to not-watching the movie.
***
The third movie starts. Yoongi lets himself bask in a not-really-sleeping-definitely-not-awake fuzziness, aware of his body only a few independant pieces at a time. His nose starts to get cold so he presses it into the soft material of Namjoon’s sweater. His hand does too so he brings it under the blanket, and it somehow ends up tucked between Namjoon’s knees. Namjoon’s arm drops from the back of the couch to wrap around his shoulder, his index finger drawing circles on Yoongi’s upper arm.
It’s all very comfortable, and quiet, and he feels like he could gladly stay there forever. When things get interrupted by the harsh blue glow of an overly bright cellphone screen Yoongi hisses and swats at it with his free hand.
“Sorry,” says Namjoon. His tone is unrepentant, bordering on gleeful, as he thumbs through whatever he’s looking at.
Yoongi considers mustering up a glare, but before he can get any farther than narrowing his eyes Namjoon has his hand in his hair, stroking gently. It’s cheating, frankly, and Namjoon knows it, but it feels so good Yoongi lets it slide. “You’re not sorry at all.” He closes his eyes and tucks his face more securely into the soft folds of Namjoon’s sweater.
“Not especially, no.” The gleeful tone hasn’t disappeared. If anything it’s grown louder, more prominent, the oboe in a high school band. Yoongi knows that tone. Nothing good comes of that tone. “I’ve had a brilliant idea,” Namjoon says, and Yoongi is proven correct.
“I don’t like your brilliant ideas,” Yoongi grumbles. “I like sleep.”
“I bet you’ll like this more than sleep.”
Namjoon sounds so cocky, so sure, that Yoongi, tired and tipsy and fuzzy as he is, finds himself saying “I bet I won’t” before he can remind himself that he’d promised himself no more ridiculous bets with Namjoon.
“Perfect. What do I get if I win?”
This is worthy of a groan, and Yoongi puts his whole heart into it. The problem is that now he’s back himself into a corner. He can’t win the bet unless he goes along with Namjoon’s idea, and his natural competitiveness won’t let him lose without a fight. “You are the worst,” he enunciates as best he can when his face is mostly full of sweater. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”
Namjoon’s laugh rumbles through his chest and it rolls through Yoongi like… Yoongi frowns. He would say like a wave, but waves are unpleasant, and wet, and cold, and whatever this feeling is it’s warm and comfortable and safe. If it was possible to bottle up a feeling, and for some reason he couldn’t bottle how Holly makes him feel, this is probably the one he’d pick. He could store it on a shelf for rainy days, and bring it out and it would be like having his own small bottle of sunlight-
“C’mon hyung.” Namjoon interrupts his thoughts and Yoongi shivers involuntarily even as that warm feeling gets warmer. Namjoon’s voice is low and soft and intimate. His tone says I am speaking to the only person in the world who matters and also that person is you, just in case you were worried and Yoongi hates it. Yoongi hates it because it is impossibly effective. He has no defences prepared to stand against it, not at this hour, not when he’s had alcohol, not when Namjoon is running his fingers through his hair.
“I don’t want to,” he mutters. Namjoon’s hand still, and Yoongi tilts his head back so he can see Namjoon’s expression. In the light thrown by the television his eyes are dark, and there’s a small smile hovering around the corners of his mouth. It’s the face of a person who knows he’s won, and knows the other person knows he’s lost. “I don’t want to,” says again. He might as well have saved his breath.
“Up we get,” Namjoon says, and up they get.
***
Some brilliant person decided once that the elevators should be shut off when it’s after hours and so they’re forced to climb the stairs to get to the roof. Between the stairs and the random fits of giggling that seem to go hand in hand with late hours and a few beers Yoongi is too busy trying to catch his breath to fret about why Namjoon’s bringing him there. It’s not exactly an unusual occurrence, although they’ve been using the roof less and less as their schedules grew more and more busy. Sometimes it’s to talk. Sometimes it’s to try and catch a glimpse of the stars.
It can’t be the stars though, Yoongi thinks, frowning his way around the sixth flight of stairs. It’s been overcast all day. “If you… made me… climb these stairs… for nothing,” he pants, but quietly, hushed as though he’s trying to sneak around from someone. Maybe it’s part of breaking onto the roof after hours. He runs out of steam before he can finish the threat. “Oh, just make something unpleasant sounding up.”
“You’ll scoop out my eyes with a rusty spoon?” Namjoon offers in the same hushed half-whisper, sounding barely winded the jerk.
“That’s… more than… I was thinking,” puffs Yoongi as they reach the last flight. He sends a prayer of thanks to anyone who might be listening that they are done climbing. “But sure, if that makes you happy.”
“Would I really make you walk all the way up here for nothing?” Namjoon asks, or, more properly, giggles. It makes Yoongi giggle, which makes Namjoon giggle, and they trade off who is giggling while Namjoon sorts through the ring of keys he keeps in his studio. They made copies of every key to the building they could get their hands on as soon as they moved in, and one of them leads to the roof.
Yoongi hears the lock thunk, and moves forward to push on the crash bar, through the door, and out into the night air. Namjoon steps neatly in front of him, wrapping his long arms around Yoongi in a gesture that combines hug and rendering-him-imobile. Yoongi could break out easy enough, if he wanted to, but he doesn’t. This is nice too, a different nice from downstairs on the couch. He rests his forehead against Namjoon’s shoulder and the world shifts just a touch around him. The warmth from before had faded a little as they climbed. It’s back in full force now, suffusing him with a quality that can’t be fully accounted for by alcohol alone.
“Ah ah ah,” Namjoon says. Yoongi starts. He’d been a bit distracted, had missed the signs Namjoon was going to speak. “Not yet. I need you to close your eyes.”
“What?” Yoongi feels a bit like he’s floating which is silly, because Namjoon’s arms are wrapped firmly around him, anchoring him in place. His heart is working doubletime, hammering against his ribs in an uneven rhythm. Even his bones get in on the action, humming impossibly but not exactly unpleasantly, and with the rhythm of his heart he thinks he might have the seed idea for a good base for a track. He hopes he’ll remember it later, when they get back downstairs.
“Hyung,” Namjoon says, breaking in to his thoughts, “You trust me, don’t you?”
“That’s definitely cheating,” Yoongi huffs. “Cheater.”
“Close your eyes, hyung,” Namjoon says, hearing the answer hidden in Yoongi’s words. “And no peeking.”
“Since when has anyone ever obeyed a ‘no peeking’ rule,” Yoongi says even as he obligingly closes his eyes, scrunching up his face to make sure it’s obvious in the light provided by the emergency exit signs. “Hey!”
“You made a good point about the ‘no peeking’ rule,” Namjoon says, as he puts his hand over Yoongi’s covered eyes.
“Oh I see how it is. You expect me to trust you, and I get no trust in return?”
“I know you too well,” Namjoon laughs. He does, is the thing. Yoongi doesn't much like surprises. Yoongi likes to know what’s coming, and when, so he can make sure he’s prepared for it. “You don’t like surprises, and I’m hurt that you think I’d set you up for one you wouldn’t like.”
“You don’t sound very hurt,” Yoongi grumbles as he brings his arms up to brace his hands on Namjoon’s shoulders. If he’s going to be walking forward blindly he’s not going to be completely blind. “You sound like you’re enjoying yourself. Now enough stalling, let’s get this over with.”
“As you wish,” Namjoon says, his half-whisper more hoarse than before. He starts backward slowly, and Yoongi shuffles along to make sure they don’t trip each other up. He hears the thunk of the crash bar, and the creak of the hinge, and- Yoongi’s fingers close convulsively on Namjoon’s shoulders as he braces himself
“You know,” Yoongi says, in the most level voice he can muster. “My ears still work, even with my eyes covered, so the surprise-” he breaks off in a yelp as Namjoon pulls him forward, out into the rain, which is cold cold cold against his superheated skin. He hears the door close behind him as though at a distance because he’s far more focused on Namjoon’s hands, which have come up to cup his face, and Namjoon’s mouth, which is warm and wet on his, stealing away his breath.
Even with the his ears tipping him off Yoongi isn’t as prepared as he thought. It takes his brain long seconds to catch up with what’s happening to his body, and by the time he finds himself in control of his muscles again Namjoon has pulled back. It makes no sense that he’s pulled back from something that’s so perfect. It’s a tragedy that he’s pulled back if Yoongi’s being honest, and the only thing stopping Yoongi from lunging forward to start them kissing again is the expression on Namjoon’s face.
It’s not blissed out, or happy, or any positive emotion at all. There’s a little furrow between his eyebrows, and he’s biting his lip. He looks worried, and unsure, and things get worse not better as he opens his mouth (I was just kissing that mouth, Yoongi thinks, distracted) and says “Shit, sorry, I should have asked, but I was so sure I was-” and he’s just so… so… himself in this moment that there’s nothing really for Yoongi to do except slide his hands together behind Namjoon’s neck and pull him down for another kiss.
It takes them a lot longer to break apart this time, and when they do Yoongi finds himself somehow backed against a wall, Namjoon’s bulk doing nothing to shield him from the rain. They’re both soaked to the skin. Yoongi can’t speak for Namjoon but he feels like his whole body is buzzing, like he’s vibrating with the speed of an over excited atom, or maybe a harp string plucked too strongly. Possibly the only thing keeping him bound to this planet, to this plane of existence, is Namjoon’s hand, resting on the join where his neck and shoulder meet, rubbing his thumb in small circles.
“There,” Namjoon says, as Yoongi tries to remember how his lungs are supposed to work and flexes his extremities to make sure they’re still attached, haven’t disappeared while he was thinking about other things. “Romantic. See?”
It almost hurts to look at him, and his bright, smug, smile. Yoongi manages it for whole split seconds at a time. He’s not really sure what to say to that. He is sure that if he does what he wants, which is reach forward and reel Namjoon in, he will definitely have lost both bets and that is an insult he cannot stand.
Alright then. Time to stall for time.
“I’m not really sure,” he hears his mouth say, and wonders where he’s going with this. Namjoon’s smile dims several watts, from ‘impossibly smug’ to ‘unsure’, and Yoongi feels his heart rate rachet up again for reasons that have nothing to do with kissing. “See, the thing is, uh…” He’s never really hoped he looks dazed before but he does now. Namjoon’s face has fallen from ‘unsure’ to ‘confused’ by the time he collects himself enough to try speaking again.
“The thing is that I don’t really have any controls? To compare it to?” Good save he thinks, mentally patting himself on the back. Keep going. “Science might not have been my strongest subject, but I’m pretty sure if you’re proving something you have to have a control set or else your results aren't-”
Namjoon doesn’t say anything, just grins wide, so wide his eyes nearly disappear in the folds of his face. Yoongi lets himself think, very quietly, that he would follow this man to the ends of the earth. That isn’t what scares him though. What scares him is how he doesn’t feel scared at all.
That’s all the time he has for thinking before Namjoon tilts forward, leans down, and captures his mouth in another kiss. This one is slow and warm and sweet. Yoongi moves one of his hands down from Namjoon’s shoulders to his waist, drawing him closer. He doesn’t want it to end, except that while he’s kissing Namjoon he can’t be looking at Namjoon, seeing the way his happiness shines so brightly against the cloud-darkened sky he might as well be lit by a full set of concert lights.
“You’re saying we should try kissing other places, that aren’t in the rain,” Namjoon summarizes when he pulls back again. He still isn’t speaking loudly, but they’re close enough Yoongi has no problem hearing him over the rain. His smile is back at ‘impossibly smug’ and looks so, so kissable.
The entirety of Yoongi’s body tries to blush at the same time. Apparently his stomach has decided to take up skydiving as a hobby, and his heart is beating only marginally slower than a hummingbird’s wings. More kissing, in more locations, is likely to be very bad for his health. It’s definitely a horrible idea. “For science,” he says firmly. “Yes. To make sure we’ve covered our bases.”
“Just science,” Namjoon agrees. He runs his thumb over Yoongi’s neck again. It’s unfair, really really unfair, that he can make Yoongi feel so hot and so shivery at the same time, especially in the rain. There’s only one thing for it, and Yoongi does the one thing, slipping his hand under the hem of Namjoon’s shirt to rest it lightly on his back.
Namjoon hisses, and Yoongi grins. “Glad we’re in agreement on that.” He cocks his head to the side, considering. He hates rain, true, and also hates being wet and cold, but is finding, in this very particular situation, that he’s not noticing any of those conditions enough to worry about them. He bites his lip and looks up through his wet hair, plastered to his forehead and falling in wet scraggles into his eyes. Namjoon brushes it aside so they can see each other clearly. Yoongi is surprised the rain doesn’t start steaming where their skin touches. “But, since we don’t know when we’ll have the opportunity again, maybe we should collect some more data? For science.”
“For science,” Namjoon agrees solemnly, and leans forward to kiss him again.
***
They decide, after careful and exhaustive consideration and experimentation, that beds, with thick, warm, dry duvets are the best place for kissing and other related activities. For one thing in a bed they are horizontal. With no need to focus on staying upright their attention can be turned to the more important and pressing matters at hand. The first point ties closely to the second, which is that it’s very easy to curl up together and have a nap when they decide they’re done for the time being. The second point again ties nicely to the third, which is that if they nap together they can exchange yet more kisses when they wake up.
Beds, Yoongi thinks happily, every time he kisses Namjoon awake, or he wakes to Namjoon kissing him. Beds are where it’s at.
Yoongi maintains that he won the bet in the end, given that beds are best, and that Namjoon owes him dinner. Namjoon maintains that the specific wording was romantic not best, and that if Yoongi wants to try and weasel his way out of contracts he needs a lot more practice. They argue about it occasionally, but always in private. The arguments generally devolve into kissing, not dinner. Neither of them mind.