Work Text:
When it happened, it was late at night. The kids were asleep; Namjoon snoring in his bunk, Taehyung wrapped around Jungkook, who had woken up with a nightmare. Jimin had a book half on his face, he’d been trying to do some homework but he’d passed right out. Hoseok had been out for a while, he was always the first to fall into bed. Seokjin should be sleeping too, but he was too exhausted to sleep, jittery and strung out.
His entire body ached with exhaustion, he’d been at dance practice all day, then stayed behind for extra practice with the teachers, then went to class, and then vocal lessons. When he got home, everyone was in a bad mood and fighting; Namjoon had blown past him out the door, muttering about one of the producers, and Jimin and Taehyung had gotten into it the second Seokjin walked in. Something had happened at school, Seokjin wasn’t exactly sure what, and Taehyung said, carelessly, “Jimin’s just being sensitive,” and Jimin had lunged for him, spitting curses that sounded like they had tears behind them. Seokjin caught Jimin around the waist and firmly hauled him away for a talk about walking away when you’re angry. Hoseok brought Taehyung over to his bunk and talked to him too; Seokjin didn’t know about what, but Hoseok had his disappointed face on and Taehyung was crying.
Yoongi came home to this mess: Hoseok now hugging and kissing a crying Taehyung in the bunk, Seokjin sitting on the kitchen floor, Jimin asleep with his head in Seokjin’s lap. Namjoon was still gone, and Jungkook was supposed to be doing homework, but he had nodded off at the table, one hand clutching a bag of chips. Yoongi walked in, dropped his keys on the table next to the door, looked at Seokjin and said, “Well, I’ll make dinner.”
Three hours later, everyone was asleep. The remnants of Yoongi’s dinner -- kimchi jjiggae if you squinted, even though they were missing half the ingredients-- had been cleaned up, and everything was quiet. Seokjin should get up, get into bed. Or at least finish the paper he had due on Thursday. Pack lunches for tomorrow, something. If he was going to be awake, he should be working. But he couldn’t make himself get off the couch. Nervous exhaustion sparked and misfired through his body; one of his leg muscles wouldn’t stop jumping.
Yoongi came out of the bathroom wearing only boxers, a towel slung around his shoulders. He fell onto the couch, dramatically splayed out like a starfish. “Hyung,” he whined. “I’m dying. Everything hurts.” He flopped around a little until Seokjin paid attention to him by poking him in the shoulder.
“You should go to bed.” Seokjin wasn’t sure why Yoongi was out here; he usually grunted his good nights to everyone as soon as possible and curled up silently in his bunk, an immobile lump of blankets until someone shook him awake in the morning. “We should both go.” Neither of them moved. In the distance, he could hear the wail of a firetruck. Something thudded and vibrated in the apartment above them. Yoongi was breathing noisily next to him, snuffling away what Seokjin hoped wasn’t the start of a cold. They needed to go to bed. “Maybe we could party instead,” Seokjin said, letting his head fall back and his limbs fall open so he was mirroring Yoongi. “Live it up a little. Go wild.”
Next to him, Yoongi snorted.
“We’re young,” Seokjin said to the ceiling. “You never know, we could be partying.” As if on cue, his stomach growled. Their manager had showed up at dinner and given him a pointed look when he’d reached for more rice. Of course, what good was he to their team if he had a puffy face?
Yoongi heaved himself off the couch, muttered something that sounded like, “hang on” and went into the bedroom. Seokjin didn’t move. He stared at the crack in the ceiling that radiated out from one corner, trying to figure out if it had gotten any bigger. The muscle in his leg was still jumping. His stomach growled again. He felt hollow, carved out by work and worry and stress until all that was left was a sense of responsibility bound together by persistent muscle pain that he was probably too young for.
He’d just closed his eyes for a second when he felt something thump into his stomach. Reflexively, he startled and caught it. It was a box of Choco Pies. Unopened. Yoongi’s grinning face emerged from the darkness. “Let’s party, hyung.”
Seokjin felt a giggle building up in his throat but he choked it down. “Oh yeah, it’s on.” He remembered the small bag he’d stuffed behind his mattress, a small act of defiance that he’d immediately regretted at the time. “Wait a sec, I have something.” He tried to be as quiet as possible going into the bedroom, but he didn’t need to worry about it; the guys were dead to the world. As he pulled the bottles of soju out they clinked together loudly and he froze-- but no, nobody even moved.
Yoongi was looking through his phone as Seokjin came into the living room. “Now it’s a party,” Seokjin whispered, holding up the three bottles of soju that had been sitting there since he’d moved into the dorm.
A small laugh burst out of Yoongi and he slapped his hand over his face, giggling behind his palm. Seokjin felt like he’d won something. Without talking, they both crept toward the kitchen window that led to the fire escape. Their manager was sleeping in the apartment next door, actually trying to leave was too risky. This was the best place to go to get any kind of privacy.
It was cool outside, not cold enough to be uncomfortable, but enough of a chill that Seokjin pressed closer to Yoongi. There wasn't much room on the fire escape anyway, they had to jostle a little to close the window behind them. For a little bit, they just passed the bottle between them silently, interspersing bites of choco pie with swigs of grapefruit soju. It was pretty gross but Seokjin didn't care, he was dizzy with the sugar rush and the flush of alcohol. It wasn't enough soju for him to get really drunk, but the exhaustion and late night and sudden sugar rush gave everything a strange, surreal edge.
“This is,” Seokjin announced, “the best party I’ve been to in months.”
Yoongi sputtered over the top of his bottle and Seokjin felt his chest grow warm again, that he could make Yoongi laugh like that. “Oh yeah,” Yoongi said. “For sure, top three at least.”
“Some of my classmates are out this weekend.” Seokjin took a long swig of soju. “They asked me to come out with them. Some beach thing.”
Yoongi didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. They leaned there for a bit, arms pressed together, the iron of the railing digging into Seokjin’s forearm. Seoul spread out before them, a carpet of blinking lights spread out into the black, a whole world of possibility for them, if they could only get out out there someday. Every once in a while Seokjin thought about it, missing beach parties and dates; getting to be the beloved maknae at home and a regular student at school. He thought about his credit card bill, growing as Jungkook grew, his sore throat and even more sore muscles, the humiliation of performing, never really being good enough at anything unless it was sitting in the stylists’ chairs.
In the glow of the city light, Yoongi’s face was unreadable. He looked like he belonged there, like the city had already wormed its way into his blood. He would be here anyway. Maybe not as an idol, but there was no doubt in Seokjin’s mind that Yoongi would be here, in Seoul, making music until the world listened.
But for now, they were both here, giddy and hungry and stealing fifteen minutes of precious time.
“I don’t like parties,” Yoongi said suddenly, like he was confessing something. “And I’m pretty sure two people doesn’t really count as a party.”
“Well, fine, if you’re going to get pedantic about it.” Seokjin threw his arm around Yoongi’s shoulders. “Then this is the best date I’ve been on in months too.”
“Not me,” Yoongi said thoughtfully. “Remember that girl, that dancer--”
Seokjin did. Yoongi’s date had been the subject of equal parts gleeful mockery and admiration in the dorm. It hadn’t worked out though, Yoongi was too committed to the team and the girl wasn’t interested in sharing her time with seven other guys. Yoongi’s expression hadn’t changed, but something in the set of his shoulders looked tense, so Seokjin said, “Nah, she wasn’t as hot as me.”
Yoongi shifted, his faint smile back in place. “This is true.”
“You really need to set your standards higher, Yoongi-yah.” This was so silly, he was embarrassing himself, but Yoongi was smiling for real, the corners of his eyes crinkling, his teeth poking out. It was cute, and Seokjin wanted him to keep smiling. “They need to be at least 93% as hot as me.”
Yoongi whistled long and low, dramatically shaking his head. “Hyung, it’s going to be years before my next date if I stick to that.” It would be years and years before any of them got to date for real, but neither of them mentioned that.
“It’s important not to settle, Yoongi-yah,” Seokjin said, in his best Bang Sihyuk voice. “We must always strive for more.” Gripping the railing, Yoongi’s shoulders shook as he doubled over, wheezing. Seokjin shoved the last piece of choco pie in his mouth, satisfied.
Now that he had a full stomach and some alcohol in him, Seokjin felt tiredness pulling at his limbs. He blinked, suddenly sleepy enough that he could maybe lie down right here on the fire escape. Yoongi was looking down at his hands and smiling to himself, like all of the pain of their day was gone. Seokjin was glad that he had Yoongi to be the other older brother, that they could lean on each other, even a little bit, when things were hard. It was difficult sometimes, knowing his place in Bangtan -- that was something that he was still working out with Namjoon, who intimidated him so much for someone who was two years younger-- but he felt okay about his place as Yoongi’s hyung and friend.
“I’m done,” Yoongi said, yawning into his hand. He shook his bangs out and fluffed them with his hand. “Bedtime.”
“Yeah.” Seokjin realized he still had his arm around Yoongi. He squeezed him briefly in a quick side hug, then let his arm slip away.
“Oh I see how it is,” Yoongi said, exaggeratedly pouting. ”He says it’s a date and leaves without kissing me. Using me for my choco pies.”
“Do you always pout like a toddler at your dates because that might explain some things.” It was late, they were tired, Yoongi was in a silly mood and Seokjin wanted to play with him. It was a joke, they were just goofing around, and that’s why he tugged Yoongi closer and planted a kiss on his cheek.
Except—
At the last minute—
Yoongi turned his head to say something, a joke about their date maybe, or telling Seokjin they needed to go to bed. Whatever it was, he’d never know because Yoongi turned his head and Seokjin’s kiss landed on the corner of his mouth, right where the tiny brackets appeared, sometimes.
They froze. Seokjin pulled away, just a fraction, and he opened his mouth to apologize (he wasn’t really sorry, though, somehow he couldn’t bring himself to be sorry) his lips still warm from their contact with Yoongi’s skin, but then Yoongi was turning his head and wrapping his arm around Seokjin’s neck and then they were kissing for real.
It was shocking, how unsurprising it all was. If you had asked him ten minutes ago what it would be like if he kissed one of his members, Seokjin would have come up with some dramatic, overblown scenario, some kind of panic or romance or something, but instead it was just Yoongi. Yoongi, whose mouth was kind of dry and tasted like grapefruit and chocolate. Yoongi, whose hair smelled like hair dye and cheap shampoo. Familiar, dear, Yoongi, who was hustling closer because he was cold, just like he always did, even when they weren’t kissing, like he hadn’t just opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, like his cold hand wasn’t creeping up Seokjin’s back.
When the hell had he started liking Yoongi this much? Seokjin wasn’t sure, but he did. He liked him so much. Gentling his kisses, he pulled back. “Are we okay?” he asked. “I want this to be okay.”
“Better than okay,” Yoongi said. He looked away and down, tangling their hands together. “Best date I’ve been on in months.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you have low standards?” Seokjin kissed him again, pressing him against the window. If anyone got up and looked outside, they’d just get an eyeful if Yoongi’s ass.
“Yeah, just a few minutes ago. Some old guy, I didn’t catch his name.”
“You’re hilarious.” Seokjin didn’t want to leave but he knew they’d regret it if they didn’t sleep at all. With one last quick kiss, he stepped back.
“We need to sleep,” Yoongi sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. “Gotta get everyone out to school early.”
“I’ll do breakfast and you can sleep in.” It looked like Yoongi was going to make at least a token protest, so Seokjin cut him off. “Let hyung take care of you.”
“Who’s going to take care of you, then?” Yoongi asked softly, catching him by the wrist and pulling him closer.
“Well,” Seokjin said, “maybe we can take care of each other.”
It was late when it happened, dark and dizzy and strange, an odd stolen pocket of time outside of their hungry, desperate lives. It was late and they were a little lost and a lot tired, but they found the time, and each other, and everything seemed brighter again, just for a little while.