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Yoongi groans loudly as he collapses onto the sofa. Sure, Jimin might already be sitting on it, but he needs it more.
“The doctor was that bad?” Jimin asks, shifting to accommodate Yoongi.
“I’m going to die,” Yoongi says into the pillow.
“What?”
“Not literally,” Yoongi says, and Jimin relaxes underneath him. Yoongi turns over and abandons his attempt to smother himself with the cushions. Jimin, because he's a good roommate/best friend, starts running his fingers through his hair, the way Yoongi likes but will never ask. “At least, not more so than any of us are dying. The passage of time, whatever.”
“What the fuck, hyung,” Jimin says, tugging on his hair gently. “You scared me.”
“I wish I was dead. I can never go back there again, I need to find a new doctor.”
“What happened?”
Yoongi can feel his cheeks warming, and he buries his face in his hands. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Hyung,” Jimin whines.
“There was this intern,” Yoongi says, voice muffled by his palms. “He was really hot.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“Oh my god, did you pop a boner for a Hot Doctor?” Jimin screeches.
Yoongi uncovers his face to scowl at his roommate. “Gross, no. He was really hot, okay? And he might have been listening to my heart beat, and he was really close, and he smelled really good, and he was really hot. And maybe my heart was beating kind of fast?”
“Min Yoongi that’s the softest shit I’ve ever heard,” Jimin says, offended. “Please tell me that’s not all, you fucking drama queen.”
“Hey! He fucking smirked at me, like he knew why my heart was racing like some romance novel heroine. It was a traumatic experience. I’m traumatized!”
“I can’t believe you. I thought this would be some Grey’s Anatomy shit, getting hot and heavy in an on call room,” Jimin shoves him. “You have a crush. Big deal.”
“I do not have a crush,” Yoongi denies. “My body had a natural response to an attractive stranger, I had no control over it.”
“So what, are you going to make up reasons to go to the doctor?”
“Gross. No, that’s creepy. I’m going to find a new doctor so I never have to see his stupid, beautiful face again.”
“Come on hyung, it's perfect. I'm sure he’ll give you a thorough examination if you ask nicely.”
“Or I could arrange my entire life so I never have to see him again,” Yoongi suggests.
Jimin turns back to his phone. “Lame. This is why you haven’t had sex in like, five years.”
“Six months,” Yoongi corrects, as if that’s any better. “And my sex life is none of your business. Just because you’re getting sexed up by your new boyfriend doesn’t mean you can suddenly start judging me.”
Jimin rolls his eyes. “See, that right there, saying boyfriend like you’re in second grade and think everyone has cooties, is the reason no one wants to touch you dick.”
“Fuck you, so many people want to touch my dick.”
“Keep telling yourself that, hyung,” Jimin says.
Yoongi doesn’t deign to answer, instead he just gives Jimin the finger and pretends like he isn’t kind of right.
Most of the time, Yoongi is pretty okay with Taehyung. Sure, he’s kind of excitable, but he’s also kind of perfect for Jimin. He’s a definite upgrade from Jimin’s last boyfriend, who was a giant asshole who ended up breaking his heart and stealing Yoongi’s good headphones.
The one thing that Yoongi hates about Taehyung is that he’s a morning person. Which is fine, he gets that some people somehow have energy to be bright and chipper in the mornings, that’s fine, as long as they aren’t being bright and chipper in Yoongi’s kitchen at 8am on a Sunday.
“Good morning, hyung,” Taehyung says, beaming, because of course he is.
Yoongi grunts in his general direction, most of his attention occupied with pouring himself a cup of coffee.
Taehyung knows Yoongi well enough not to take this personally, and instead takes it as an invitation to start chattering on. Yoongi lets him, because it would take too much effort to stop him.
“So anyway,” Taehyung says, wrapping up his story. “That’s why I never, ever use my phone in the bathtub.”
Yoongi has had enough coffee that he feels up to communicating. “How can you be so awake this early? How much coffee do you drink?”
“Oh, I don’t drink coffee,” Taehyung says with a smile. “I don’t know, I guess I’m just used to getting up early.”
Yoongi looks at him, horrified. “You mean you’re like this without coffee? How?”
Taehyung laughs. “You sound just like my brother. He lives on the stuff.” Taehyung looks at him, his head tilting to the side. He looks kind of like a puppy, and Yoongi hates himself a little for thinking it’s cute. “You know, I think you and my brother would get along really well.”
“Okay…”
“He’s really handsome, and he-”
“Nope,” Yoongi says, finally getting where Taehyung is going.
“Hyung,” Taehyung huffs. “Let me finish. He’s a great guy-”
“I’m not desperate enough that I need to be set up with like, someone’s homely, spinster brother.”
Taehyung laughs hard, clutching his stomach. He wipes a tear from his eye. “If you knew him, you wouldn’t think that.”
“I’m sure he’s great,” Yoongi says, unconvinced. It doesn’t say a lot about this guy if he needs his younger brother to get him a date. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
“What’s going on?” Jimin asks as he walks into the kitchen, yawning and bleary eyed, like a normal person.
“I was trying to set Yoongi hyung up with Jin hyung but he’s not interested,” Taehyung says, as if Yoongi’s the one who’s being ridiculous.
“You should say yes,” Jimin says, sitting down in Taehyung’s lap. “He’s hot.”
“Hey!”
“Not as hot as you babe,” Jimin soothes. Way hotter, he mouths when Taehyung isn’t looking.
Yoongi hides his laugh in his sleeve. “Look, I appreciate that you guys think that I’m going to like, die alone and unloved, but I’m fine.”
Jimin pipes up, “Actually, I'm scared that when I move out, you're going to get a cat to cope with the loneliness, and then you're going to choke on a cheeseball and die, and by the time anyone finds your corpse, the cat will have eaten your face off.”
“That's frighteningly detailed,” Yoongi says, carefully not mentioning that he’d been looking at the local animal shelter’s website the night before.
Jimin shrugs. “Let Tae set you up with his brother, it's better than getting your face eaten off.”
“There's no correlation there,” Yoongi says, but Jimin just continues to look at him, eyebrows raises expectantly. “Thanks but not thanks, I'll take my chances with the cat.”
“You’re missing out,” Taehyung says, shrugging. “Don’t come to me when you realize your mistake.”
“Trust me, I won’t.”
He should have known this would come back to bite him in the ass.
Taehyung’s birthday is timed perfectly that Yoongi should have had the perfect excuse to not go to his party. And he does, he’s ready to pull out the ‘my mom wants me home - family time is so important’ card but then Taehyung hits him with puppy dog eyes and Yoongi’s agreeing before he can stop himself.
“I’m just saying you could have warned me,” Yoongi says for the nth time, as he trudges up the stairs to Taehyung’s apartment with Jimin.
“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t get to see you suffer through being social,” Jimin says, like the asshole he secretly is. Everyone is always tricked by the angelic smile, but Yoongi knows the truth.
“Just because I’m selective with the people I’m friends with doesn’t mean I’m not social. What does that even mean? Some arbitrary standard that you-”
“You always get so defensive when you know I’m right.”
“Fuck you.”
Jimin opens the door to the apartment, not bothering with knocking. It probably would have been pointless anyway, what with the loud music that hits them as soon as they open the door. Yoongi feels bad for Taehyung’s neighbours. By the time they’ve shed their jackets, Taehyung has spotted them, bouncing over.
“You made it!” he crows, kissing Jimin on the cheek, and then pulling Yoongi into a hug. From the smell of his breath, he’s already started celebrating.
Taehyung drags them to the kitchen, where a makeshift bar has been set up. “Birthday shots!”
Jimin laughs. “How many have you had already?”
“Not enough,” Taehyung says, pouring them out. “You too, Yoongi hyung.”
Yoongi thinks about arguing, but considering how stubborn Taehyung can be when he’s sober, he doesn’t think he really has a fighting chance.
“Fine,” he huffs, reaching for the shot glass full of god knows what.
By the time he’s allowed to leave the kitchen, he’s more than a few shots in, and he has a cup full of something mixed that tastes deceptively sweet. He manages to snag a spot on the sofa and he sips his drink, trying to look as unapproachable as possible. He considers starting a conversation with someone just to prove Jimin wrong, but having to actually talk to a stranger outweighs being right. Also, Jimin is too wrapped up in Taehyung to even notice anyone who doesn’t have fluffy hair and a dumb, boxy smile.
Yoongi checks the time on his phone, wondering how much longer he has to stay. He’s seen Taehyung, and there isn’t really anyone else he wants to see here. The only people he knows are Jimin and Taehyung, it’s not like anyone else will notice if he leaves. Even he’s not enough of a loser to leave a party fifteen minutes after he gets there, so he resolves to stay for an hour, a nice, round amount of time, and then lie blatantly when Jimin asks when he left.
It’s nearing the forty-five minute mark when he finishes his drink. The music is loud and three people have tried to talk to him, and if he’s going to make it to the hour, he needs more alcohol. He stands up, only a little unsteady, and goes back to the kitchen, hoping this time he can get something that isn’t so sickeningly sweet.
He’s almost there when he sees someone familiar out of the corner of his eye. He wasn’t expecting to know anyone else here, which is maybe why he turns, instead of ignoring it like he should. It takes him a moment to place the wide shoulders, the soft brown hair, and the stupidly, ridiculously handsome face.
Yoongi wants to die.
Yoongi honest to god squawks, which is gratefully hidden by the loud music. He frantically looks around for Jimin, and sure enough he’s talking to a bunch of artsy looking people who Yoongi thinks might be Taehyung’s coworkers.
He drags Jimin bodily from the group, earning a few odd looks. Yoongi does not give a single fuck, this is an emergency.
“What the fuck?” Jimin hisses, pulling his arm from Yoongi’s grasp. He must see the panic on Yoongi’s face, because he asks, “What happened? Is something wrong?”
“He’s here!”
“What?”
“He’s here!” Yoongi repeats. “I just saw him. I’m going to die.”
“You’re not making any sense. Who’s here?”
“Hot Doctor!”
It takes a second, but when Jimin gets it, his eyes get wide. “Really?” He looks around the room. “Where?”
Yoongi wants to die. “Over by the potted plant.”
Jimin turns and looks in the right direction. He’s quiet for a moment, and then he starts cackling.
“What?” Yoongi asks, legitimately worried that Hot Doctor’s hotness has caused Jimin to lose his mind. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised. He’s really that hot.
“This is the greatest moment of my life,” Jimin says, wiping tears from his eyes. “Thank you so much for this.”
“Jimin-”
“Seokjin hyung,” Jimin calls loudly.
Hot Doctor turns to look at them.
Yoongi wants to die.
Jimin looks gleeful as he beckons Hot Doctor over, and Yoongi is regretting every single decision he made in his life that lead to him being friends with Park Jimin. He wonders if this is the moment that will inspire him to discover the secret to time travel, just so he can go back in time and stop his past self from befriending a certain shy freshman all those years ago.
“I’m going to murder you in your sleep,” Yoongi says under his breath. “I fucking hate you. Your days are numbered, so say goodbye-”
“Hi hyung,” Jimin says brightly, beaming at Hot Doctor.
“Hey Jiminie,” Hot Doctor says, smiling. He somehow looks even hotter than he had at Yoongi’s appointment. Yoongi had lowkey thought he'd been exaggerating how hot he'd been, but if anything, he'd forgotten how devastatingly attractive Hot Doctor had been. Even in the low lighting of Taehyung’s living room, he’s the most breathtaking person Yoongi has ever seen. His hair is fluffy and messy, and his dress shirt is clinging to his shoulders in all the right places, accenting his small waist and long, long legs. Yoongi wants to die.
“Seokjin hyung, this is my roommate Yoongi. Yoongi hyung, this is Seokjin, Tae’s older brother.”
“Hi,” Yoongi manages, praying to every deity that Seokjin doesn’t recognize him. He’s never been religious, but if the gods show him their favour now, he will become the most devout-
“Nice to see you again,” Seokjin says and he. He. He fucking smirks.
Yoongi wants to die.
“Hi,” he repeats, lifting his hand in a dumbass wave. Jimin is silently laughing at him.
“So you’re the roommate,” Seokjin says, lips curved in a smile that is infuriating.
“What?” Yoongi says intelligently.
“Tae’s mentioned you a couple times, that’s all.”
“It’s all lies.”
“Even the good things?”
“Especially the good things.” Yoongi can just imagine what Taehyung would have said.
“Tae’s mentioned Seokjin hyung too, don’t you remember Yoongi?” Jimin interject, because he’s the actual devil. “What was it you called him, a sp-”
Yoongi covers Jimin’s mouth with his hand, and glares. He tries to communicate just how dead Jimin will be if he finishes his sentence. “Shouldn’t you find your boyfriend? It’s not nice to leave Taehyung alone at his own birthday party.”
Jimin licks Yoongi’s palm, gross. Yoongi takes back his hand and wipes it on Jimin’s shoulder. “You’re right, I should fill Tae in. You two should get to know each other.”
With that Jimin bounces off, leaving Yoongi and Seokjin alone. Fuck, he should have thought this through better. Less chance of immediate embarrassment, but also, leaving Yoongi to make conversation with the most attractive man on the planet (probably).
Seokjin looks amused. “Now I want to know what he was going to say.”
Yoongi flushes. “It’s nothing, something dumb probably. Ninety percent of what Jimin says is dumb and should be ignored.”
“So he’s the perfect match for Taehyung, then?”
Yoongi laughs, surprised. “You’re kind of an asshole, aren’t you?” he asks before he can stop himself.
“You say that like it’s a good thing.”
Yoongi shrugs. “Well, I have it on good authority that I’m an asshole, so I guess like attracts like.” It takes a moment after the words leave his mouth that he realizes that he’s just basically confessed to liking Seokjin. He continues on, hoping if he says enough words Seokjin won’t have noticed. “Also it’s good to know you have a flaw. Like, you’re too perfect, I was starting to think you were a robot built by the government to make mediocre twenty-somethings feel bad about their lives.”
Seokjin is making a squeaking noise and Yoongi realizes he’s laughing. It sounds super dumb and it’s way too endearing.
“Why’d you stop?” Seokjin asks, once he’s stopped laughing. “Please, I know I’m perfect, but I love it when near strangers tell me I am. It’s good for my ego.”
“See, you weren’t listening, I was talking about how I just found out you weren’t perfect, because you’re an asshole. Also, you have a dumb laugh. See, you should walk away now before the entire illusion is shattered.”
“You’re a lot more talkative today than you were the last time we met.”
“I have a lot more alcohol in my body than the last time we met,” Yoongi counters.
“Well, maybe I should catch up,” Seokjin says. “To make things fair.”
That’s how Yoongi finds himself staring down a row of shots with Seokjin standing beside him. He takes one, and taps it against the one Seokjin is holding, and then downs it in one go, wincing at the burn. The second one goes down just as smoothly.
Seokjin picks up a third, and looks at him, his eyebrows raised. Yoongi shakes his head. “You can’t catch up with me if I keep matching you.”
Seokjin shrugs and throws back the shot. Yoongi’s mouth goes dry. His eyes are glued to the long line of Seokjin’s neck, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. When he looks at Yoongi, he smiles knowingly, and despite what he just said, Yoongi reaches for another shot. He needs it.
By the time they make it out of the kitchen, Yoongi is feeling unsteady, and he doesn’t know if that has to do with the excessive amounts of alcohol, or with the way Seokjin has his long fingers wrapped around Yoongi’s wrist as he pulls him towards the sofa.
Sitting is good. Sitting feels less like the room is spinning around him. Of course, it means that Seokjin’s face is level and in close proximity to his own and that is. A Lot.
“You know it’s not fair,” Yoongi says, reaching over to poke Seokjin’s face, making sure he’s real.
“What isn’t?”
“That you’re so good looking,” Yoongi explains. “Someone as hot as you shouldn’t be smart enough to be a doctor. Hot people should be dumb, because they’re already hot, they’ve already won the genetic lottery. Leave being smart to average looking people, it’s all we have.”
“You think you’re average looking?” Seokjin asks, and he leans in close, ostensibly because of the loud music, and his breath is hot against Yoongi’s ear.
He presses his palms to his cheeks, feels the warmth trapped under his skin. Everything is a lot, the music, the press of people, Seokjin’s dark eyes, his gaze heavy like a physical weight, pressing him down.
“We’re drunk,” Yoongi says, instead of answering Seokjin question.
“Yeah,” Seokjin agrees, shifting even closer. Yoongi hadn’t noticed Seokjin’s arm draped over the back of the sofa, not until it drops so it’s around his shoulders, his fingers playing with the short hairs at the nape of Yoongi’s neck.
If Yoongi was sober, this is when he’d turn away. He’d deflect, or make up an excuse to get away, to get his head on straight. But he isn’t sober, not even close, and his mind is spinning, his only anchor Seokjin, and the way he makes Yoongi forget how to breathe.
Seokjin seems content to stay suspended in this moment, the tension taught between them, teetering on the precipice of something. So Yoongi takes initiative, closes the last gap between them and presses his lips against Seokjin’s.
Despite being the one to initiate it, Yoongi soon figures out that he is not the one in control of this kiss. Seokjin threads his fingers through Yoongi’s dark hair, tilting his head to his satisfaction. He licks into Yoongi’s mouth, and Yoongi feels like he’s drowning, completely overcome in the best way.
Seokjin pulls back with a nip at Yoongi’s lower lip, and fuck if he doesn’t look like the best thing Yoongi’s ever seen. His already too pretty mouth is pink and swollen, and Yoongi can’t help himself from dragging him in for another kiss. And another. And another.
The party goes on around them, time passing independent of the two men caught in each other’s orbits. Yoongi’s brain is offline, partly from the alcohol, partly from the way Seokjin is kissing him, so he lets his body take over, chasing pleasure with a singular focus. Maybe that’s why he finds himself straddling Seokjin’s lap, hands clutching at those glorious shoulders as Seokjin sucks a mark on his neck.
He can feel Seokjin hard against his thigh, and he’s right there with him, but instead of ramping up, things turn slow and syrupy. The kisses turn lingering and sweet, Seokjin’s big hands gentle where they’ve slipped under Yoongi’s shirt, tracing patterns against his skin with his fingers.
Yoongi feels sleepy and light, like if Seokjin wasn’t holding him down he’d just float up. He looks down at Seokjin, who looks like a vision, heavy lidded and flushed, his eyes locked onto Yoongi. The attention feels heady and addictive, like if Yoongi lets himself he’ll become hooked on the way this beautiful man looks at him like there are stars under his skin.
“Come to bed with me,” Seokjin says, his lips on Yoongi’s jaw.
“We’re drunk,” Yoongi says, eyes slipping closed.
“We’ll just sleep, promise. I just,” Seokjin breaks off, leaning back to look at Yoongi with a sincerity in his eyes that is more disarming than any of his kisses. “I want you to still be here in the morning. I don’t want you to slip through my fingers.”
And because Yoongi is drunk and tired and smitten, he says, “Okay.”
Yoongi spends a lot of time sleeping. When asked, he will unashamedly list it as a hobby, which is why he knows he's not in his bed as soon as he wakes up. The sheets are different, soft and silky where he prefers cotton, and the pillow is too soft. Of course, there’s also the other body pressed up along his back, a heavy arm wrapped around his waist, holding him firmly against a broad chest.
“S’early,” he says, and Seokjin pauses, his lips pressed against the back of Yoongi's neck.
“I have to be at the hospital in an hour,” Seokjin says, his voice raspy.
Yoongi should probably be freaking out. He’s surprised he isn't freaking out. It probably has to do with the way he’s growing as a person, opening himself to embracing stepping out of his comfort zone. Also, he’s pretty sure he’s still a little drunk from the night before.
He turns in the circle of Seokjin’s arms. In the dim light of the early morning, he’s still handsome, but in a soft, sleepy way. His face is puffy and his hair has gone from artfully messy to hopeless bedhead. He seems real in a way he didn't the night before. This feels real in a way that Yoongi wants desperately.
Yoongi buries his face in Seokjin's neck, squeezing his eyes shut. Seokjin tightens his arms around him, pressing a kiss to his hair. It feels frighteningly domestic.
“Tae tried to set me up with you,” Yoongi says into Seokjin’s neck, lips dragging against skin with each word. The words seem easier like this, trapped between the two of them, in the bubble they've been in since last night.
“Mm, he told me. Said you called me a homely spinster.”
“Obviously I didn't know it was you.”
“It made me curious. I've been called a lot of things, but never homely.”
“I'm pretty sure I called you hot like twelve times last night, so shut up.”
Seokjin laughs softly, and Yoongi feels it more than hears it, his shoulders shaking.
“When do you have to leave for work?” Yoongi asks.
Seokjin sighs. “Twenty minutes.”
Fortifying himself to face the world, and the concept of being awake, Yoongi pulls away from Seokjin, stretching with a groan, eyes shut tight and hands balled into fists.
“I’ll let you buy me coffee,” Yoongi says, sitting up.
Seokjin follows suit, looking at him, a smile tucked into the corner of his mouth. “You’re cute.”
“M’not,” Yoongi says, looking around for his phone. It's on the bedside table, and Yoongi reaches to grab it, checking the time. “Fuck, it's early.”
“The life of a doctor isn't actually that glamorous, sorry,” Seokjin says as he gets out of bed. Yoongi watches as he pulls on clothes, jeans and a pink hoodie. “It's not always meeting cute patients whose hearts beat faster when you're near them.”
“Nice to know you're terrible personality balances out that face “
Seokjin just laughs, squeaky and too loud, and it does something to Yoongi’s heart.
It’s not long before they head out, walking to the coffee shop at the end of the block. It’s early on a Sunday, and the only person there is the bleary eyed barista who rings them up.
When they step out, the sun is just starting to peek out over the horizon, and Seokjin is frowning at his phone.
“I need to go if I'm going to be on time.”
“Oh.”
“Can I call you?” he asks, shy in a way that makes Yoongi smile.
“You’d need my number first, genius.”
His cheeks go pink. “Oh yeah.”
Yoongi laughs. “I’ll get it from Tae, don't worry. Go, before you're late.”
Instead of leaving, Seokjin steps closer, his big hand cupping Yoongi’s cheek as he leans in. “You know, he’s going to be insufferable.”
“Worth it,” Yoongi says, and Seokjin laughs into the kiss.