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The kisses start out small. Just little pecks here and there, mostly on Yoongi’s forehead and cheeks. There was one that landed on the corner of his mouth that drove him insane.
Yoongi retaliates by leaving lingering touches on Jungkook in places that he wouldn’t normally go near: the crook of his waist, the inside of his upper thighs, the softness of his skin underneath his bellybutton. He rests his hand on the nape of his neck when he passes by and drifts his fingers through his hair. Jungkook’s always startled by it, and Yoongi thrives off of that.
It takes some time for Jungkook to pick up on it. When he does, the kisses grow more frantic. They linger on his skin just a tad above chaste in more risqué places. The first one Yoongi can think of was on his neck, right behind his ear. The ones after that are loitered from his shoulders when Jungkook sidles up behind him, to his forearms and hands whenever they end up next to each other on the couch, and then his bare legs in the mornings where Yoongi comes out of his room and throws them across Jungkook’s lap. There was one incident, in the middle of the night, when Yoongi had walked into the kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and Jungkook had kissed his collarbone without even giving him a second glance.
After that night, they got more heated. Yoongi’s hands skim up and down Jungkook’s chest where they stood front to front while waiting for the coffee pot to heat. Jungkook latches onto Yoongi’s neck, and these times, he never hesitates to lick and suck on his skin and leave Yoongi leaning against the counter with weak knees, feeling like he’d melt and puddle at their feet with his next breath.
They never speak about it. Sometimes Yoongi will look up and Jungkook will already be staring at him, smirking a little while they ate breakfast. They’d hold gazes for a couple moments, searching each other for any sign of recognition or questioning but Yoongi always looks away, afraid of what he’d find. Afraid of what Jungkook would see in his own eyes, who have never failed to show his feelings.
They speak about other things. Things they normally talk about, and laugh about, and banter about. They argue, too. They’re roommates. They can get tired of being around each other. But sometimes Yoongi walks out. Sometimes it’s Jungkook, and Yoongi always jumps when the door slams shut behind him. But they always come back, and they always apologize, and they’re always forgiven. They always go back to their normal.
It’s an unspoken thing. It’s unspoken and it’s cherished, and Yoongi hopes deep down that it isn’t only him. God, he hopes. He studies the way Jungkook looks at him when he doesn’t think Yoongi notices. He watches his reactions when he does something exceptionally risky, like walking out of the bathroom butt naked and wet from the shower, when he knew Jungkook would see him. Like sitting on the kitchen counter in a baggy t-shirt with nothing on underneath. Like when they lie on the couch watching a movie together, and Yoongi will get close enough that he’s almost sitting in his lap. It’s the little things that add up as they go, and it’s the little things that make it all the more worth it.
“You’re going to be the death of me, hyung,” Jungkook whispers under his breath one night. They’re watching TV, and he doesn’t think Jungkook meant for him to hear it, but he did. And when he replies, he knows that Jungkook can’t hear him, because the girl on the screen is screaming bloody murder as the dude chases her with an ax and Jungkook is shaking underneath his hands.
“You have no idea.”
~
“Where’s the peanut butter?”
“Cabinet above the stove.”
Jungkook finds it. “Thanks.”
Yoongi nods absentmindedly and chews on his cereal. He’s scrolling through Twitter, trying not to smile as he reads Jimin and Taehyung fighting over who outsold who: Sailor Moon or Naruto. (Namjoon replies saying Pokemon beat them all, and Hoseok agrees.)
“What’s the look for?” Jungkook asks. He looks over Yoongi’s shoulder at the phone. “Oh, that. I’m with Tae on this.”
“Fucking Naruto skum.”
“Sailor moon princess bitchass.”
“Do you know how many times Naruto says dattebayo in an episode? At least ten times, Jeon Jungkook.”
“And Sailor Moon is any better?”
“Have you seen Sailor Mars? Tuxedo Mask? Fight me, they’re the best, no magical ninja wannabe can stop the power of us Moonies.”
“Magical Ninja wannabe?”
“Okay, look, I couldn’t come up with a better insult, I’ve barely even watched the first season.”
“You’re so dumb, hyung.”
“Fuck you.”
Jungkook chuckles and moves away to finish his sandwich, but not before pressing a small kiss to the top of Yoongi’s head.
Yoongi shoves more cereal than he can chew into his mouth so he doesn’t slip up and say anything.
~
“Yoongi, seriously, just come here.”
“No.”
“I won’t do it again.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“C’mon. Please, hyung?”
Yoongi glares at him over the top of the pillow in his arms. He’s ready to kick. He will kick. If Jungkook so much as moves a finger he will kick and he will kick hard.
Jungkook smiles at him, all innocent-like, and Yoongi really wants to throw the pillow at him. So he does.
“Oh, that’s it,” he says, and Yoongi makes a haste move to get off the couch, run, run, run, but Jungkook’s already there with an arm around his waist. He drags Yoongi so his back is against his chest and he’s trapped, Jungkook’s hand on his waist curling and the other one finding soft skin on his belly. Yoongi squirms, and laughs, and laughs, and laughs, and he can’t breathe and it’s too much. He manages to kick Jungkook in the leg, hard, and he goes down.
Yoongi crawls off of him and onto the floor. “I-,” he gasps, “- hate. You.”
Jungkook laughs and turns over onto his side so he can look at Yoongi. “No you don’t.”
“Yes, yes I do. So much.”
He smiles and reaches out for Yoongi, but he scurries away, grabbing the discarded pillow again. He points a finger at him. “Don’t even try it.”
Jungkook raises his hands in the air in a placating gesture. “Okay, okay. How about we call a truce. I promise not to tickle you if you come cuddle again.”
Yoongi levels him with a scowl. “That’s just setting myself up.”
“I said I’d promise, remember?”
“You said that last time.”
“But you threw a pillow at me!”
“That doesn’t mean you have the right to do it again!”
“Baby-” Jungkook starts, and it's new, and that’s it. All his breath drains from him. The fight is gone. Yoongi stares up at Jungkook with wide eyes, running the name through his mind again and again and trying to figure out if it was just his imagination, and maybe he's overreacting, searching for things that aren't even there, but - but Jungkook looks surprised. Like he’s startled that he let it slip, that he said it so carelessly, and it’s - he looks scared, even though it's just a pet name - and Yoongi is five seconds away from blurting out everything. All of the feelings, the thoughts, the confessions, because if Jungkook looks this scared over calling Yoongi baby of all things, then what does that say to everything else?
They've slept in the same bed. They've touched each other intimately. They've seen each other naked more than once. Jungkook's kissed Yoongi in places he's never been kissed before, and this is what makes Jungkook frightened?
They’ve never talked about it. But oh, Yoongi wants to.
Oh, how bad he wants to.
Jungkook watches him, frozen, eyes wide and lips parted as he slowly gets up and walks back over to the couch. His movements are jerky, kind of impulsive and too controlled to be casual, his breath coming out shaky. Yoongi's not even breathing anymore.
Jungkook sits down at his feet, their eyes not leaving each others. It’s nerve-wracking and his heart is beating so fast in his chest he feels like it's going to jump out of his throat and run away and Yoongi loves it. He wants to tell Jungkook he loves everything about him and wants to tell him he loves him, and god, he wants to talk about it.
“Kook,” Yoongi begins, and there are tears welling up in his eyes and he has no idea why. Jungkook starts, eyes widening even further, and then he’s moving. He kneels in front of Yoongi, hands coming close to cup his cheeks, fingers smoothing over his jaw as he tilts Yoongi’s face up and swipes his thumbs under his eyes, catching the tears that fall there.
“It’s okay,” he tells him softly, lovingly, "It's okay, baby." And Yoongi gets it.
They don’t have to speak.
They already know.
(It's not like they've been very subtle about it.)