Work Text:
Yoongi doesn’t do well with heat.
It makes him sweaty and flushed and irritable, all things any sane human would be thoroughly repulsed by.
But unfortunately for him, Jeon Jeongguk is not a sane human by any means, so here he is: at a stadium on a hot day on the cusp of summer— sun beaming, temperature high, breeze nonexistent.
Luckily for Yoongi, he’s been given access to a private box on the upper level. The air conditioning is going full blast when he enters, water bottles and beer chilling in large basins of ice, fresh fruit and assorted snacks spread out behind the minimal rows of seating. He ignores it all in favor of charging to the window, only relaxing once he finds the man he’s looking for down below.
Yoongi sighs as he leans forward against the cool glass of the box window, watching over Jeongguk as he practices pitching, the mound he stands on under the direct light of the glaring rays from the midday sun. His skin is growing more tan the longer the season goes on, and Yoongi silently prays that he’s been remembering to apply sunscreen on game days. Jeongguk winds back and sends the ball flying, the beginnings of a smile quirking the corners of his mouth up as it lands in the catcher’s mitt, exactly as expected. Yoongi can feel the tug of his own lips trying to smile, his body suddenly overcome with an overwhelmingly giddy sensation at seeing Jeongguk pleased with himself.
“Min Yoongi!”
Yoongi startles, elbow banging into the glass as he spins to attention. He hisses, rubbing his palm over the area, arm buzzing with pinpricks from hitting his decidedly not-funny-at-all bone.
“Sorry, hyung,” Taehyung looks abashed, nose scrunched and shoulders curled in toward his ears.
Yoongi dismisses it with a gentle wave of his hand, turning his attention back to Jeongguk on the field. “What’s up?”
“Surprised to see you here is all,” Taehyung’s voice is gentle as he sidles up beside Yoongi. “You normally slide in pretty close to game time.”
Yoongi hums his acknowledgment, attention focused on Jeongguk as he throws again. He doesn’t seem as happy with his pitch this time, even takes a moment to rub at the muscles of his neck and roll his shoulders before granting the catcher permission to toss it back to him. Yoongi worries at his lower lip.
“Hyung,” Taehyung sounds like he’s stifling a giggle. “What on Earth are you so worried for, when all you’re here to do is watch?”
“Hush,” Yoongi grumbles, cheeks aflame. “Rotator cuff injuries are extremely common, I have every right to be nervous for him.”
“Ooo, how protective of you,” Taehyung definitely giggles this time. “Almost sounds like you—”
“Enough!” Yoongi squeaks, clamping a hand over Taehyung’s mouth. It does absolutely nothing to discourage Taehyung’s train of thought, and all he does is wiggle his eyebrows in retaliation for his current lack of ability to communicate. Yoongi’s cheeks burn even brighter. “What are you doing here so early anyway?”
Taehyung, thankfully, does not comment on the situation any further, rather fixes his hair and moves his eyes back out to Jeongguk. “We had breakfast together this morning, catching a ride over with him after made the most sense to me. I mean—” He steps back and gestures around them, grin wide as he speaks, “We do have all of this to ourselves. May as well use it, right hyung?”
Yoongi shrugs, not really caring for their seating arrangements for any other reason than it keeps him shaded and cool. If it were anyone other than Jeongguk on the team, he’d probably just curl up with a blanket and use the room as a comfortable nap spot while the game played out.
Jeongguk throws again, and this time lets out a little whoop, fist clenched in the air in his excitement. Yoongi didn’t watch to see where it went, but Jeongguk’s reaction is enough to let him know it’s been the best pitch so far. That warm feeling settles deep within Yoongi again, and he sighs— a little content, a little fond— as Jeongguk makes his way from center field to the dugout, plopping down and chugging the nearest drink extended to him.
“When are you going to tell him?” Taehyung whispers, so soft Yoongi could’ve missed it, would’ve missed it, were the subject not so prominent in his thoughts. Taehyung’s hand wraps gently around Yoongi’s, gives a reassuring squeeze when he feels it tremble.
“Soon.”
♢
Jeongguk comes to them about an hour later, freshly showered and in uniform, a few droplets of water edging down toward his chin that slip free as he breaks into a grin at the sight of Yoongi.
“Hyung!”
Jeongguk practically vibrates with excitement, looking all too much like an overeager puppy as he wraps his arms around Yoongi’s back and gives him a tiny spin. Yoongi yelps and swats at Jeongguk’s arms until he puts him back down, Taehyung’s laughter echoing in the background as he watches on. Jeongguk doesn’t stop smiling, and in spite of himself, neither can Yoongi.
Taehyung clears his throat loudly, and Yoongi shoots him a brief look of gratitude. “So. What brings you up here before the game, Gukkie?”
“Hyunjin-hyung told me he’d seen Yoongi-hyung up here when he was out on the field,” Jeongguk says, cheeks painted in the lightest shade of pink. “But hyung is never here this early, so I came to see for myself.”
“Hey,” Yoongi grunts, pinching Jeongguk in the side hard. “I’m here early sometimes!”
“That’s a lie,” Jeongguk says with a pout. “I never get to see you before a game, hyung. You’re always so caught up in the studio, or promotions, or—”
Jeongguk’s tirade is interrupted by a conveniently placed strawberry.
“Gukkie, try this! These are the best strawberries I’ve ever tasted,” Taehyung beams, forcing it further into Jeongguk’s mouth. Jeongguk makes a distorted grunting noise, but bites the strawberry clean off the stem and chews dutifully. “See? I’m never wrong about fruit.”
“That’s an odd thing to never be wrong about,” a deep voice chimes in from the doorway.
“Namjoon-hyung!”
“Hi Taehyung-ah,” Namjoon grins.
Namjoon files in with the rest of their crew in tow, all full of bright smiles and excitement. They each clap Jeongguk on the back and offer him words of encouragement, the youngest grinning and thanking them for being there. With everyone momentarily distracted, Yoongi lets his mind wander back to his earlier conversation.
“How soon is soon, hyung?”
“Today— tonight.”
“Don’t push yourself if you aren’t ready,” Taehyung had whispered, squeezing Yoongi’s hand again.
“I know,” Yoongi sighed, voice sad and broken. “But the more time drags on, the longer I spend trying to fight it— the more it hurts.”
Taehyung had nodded, eyes glistening and filled to the brim with understanding. “You’ve got this, hyung. Everything will work out in the end.”
Yoongi’s heart races at light speed, a steady stream of thunderous beats that radiate from his ears down to the tips of his fingers, pulsing strong as he clenches his fists.
Jeongguk’s looking over at him, smile shy and kind. Loving even, if Yoongi was daring enough to think it. And it hits him, suddenly, unexpectedly—
What’s he got to be so afraid of?
“Jeongguk-ah,” Yoongi’s surprised at the strength of his own voice. “Can I speak to you for a moment?” And when he doesn’t seem to clue in— “in private,” Yoongi clarifies, cheeks dusted rosy.
“Oh. Sure, hyung,” Jeongguk jerks his chin toward the door. “Hallway?”
Yoongi nods his assent and leads the way out, pausing only once he’s deemed them a good enough distance away from any potential snoops (Taehyung).
“Is something wrong, hyung?” Jeongguk asks and it’s— soft, so soft, almost unbearably so. Yoongi shakes his head, rests his back against the wall behind him and locks eyes with Jeongguk.
“I have a proposition for you.”
Jeongguk’s eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”
“If you win tonight,” Yoongi clears his throat. “If you win— hyung has a surprise for you.”
“A surprise?”
Yoongi decides that right now, if Jeongguk were a puppy, his ears would be perked up and his tail would be wagging.
“What kind of surprise?”
Jeongguk is swarming his space, bouncing on the balls of his feet— Yoongi takes it back, Jeongguk is just an overgrown puppy.
“If I tell you it won’t be a surprise,” Yoongi flicks Jeongguk’s forehead, giggling a little when the younger winces and rubs at the afflicted spot.
“Fine,” Jeongguk huffs, folding his arms across his chest in mock irritation, lower lip pushed out in full force. “What happens if I lose?”
Yoongi shrugs, does everything in his power to feign nonchalance as he begins to push off the wall. “S’pose you don’t get your surprise then—”
“Hyung,” Jeongguk whines, caging Yoongi in before he can escape. “S’not fair to do that.”
Yoongi swallows thickly as his back hits the wall, nervous and warm and suddenly hyper aware of all things Jeongguk— the way the veins bulge in his forearms in response to his strength, the subtle scent of lavender and grass, the mole on the side of his neck at the perfect height to just lean in and—
“Hyung?” Jeongguk whispers. (and he sounds nervous)
“Don’t lose,” Yoongi whispers back. (and he sounds desperate)
“I won’t.”
(and he sounds determined)
♢
The game begins.
The announcers start their spiel, spouting off knowledge about the teams, the expected outcomes, while the crowd roars as they settle into their seats.
The boys crack beers and crowd around the front of the room to watch the game from above, while Yoongi assumes his usual spot in front of the monitor slung on the back wall.
This is usually how it goes— Yoongi shying away from any attention they’ll attract up here as the stadium’s special “celebrity attendees”, preferring to keep his presence as under the radar as possible. The others do better with it; smile and pose when a camera is directed toward them, making a show out of enjoying themselves and cheering on Jeongguk (even though he’s too focused on the game to remember they exist). Yoongi watches diligently as they finally show him on screen, fixing his cap and adjusting his mitt. There’s a fire in his eyes, a fierce edge to his jaw— it makes Yoongi’s blood boil, and he tugs at the collar of his shirt to relieve the heat.
“Hey, hyung?”
Yoongi regretfully withdraws his eyes from the screen to peak at Taehyung. “Yeah?”
“Wanna get a closer look?”
Yoongi’s face twists in confusion.
“My manager—” He pauses. “I have seats down front, if you want to move?”
Oh. Yoongi hesitates, the heat in his blood warming just a bit more. If he goes down front, especially with Taehyung of all people, the attention will be on them immediately. There’s no way they’ll escape the fans and the cameras. No way he’ll escape Jeongguk.
“I think he’d really appreciate it, you know,” Taehyung adds, voice gentle, knowing.
“I—” Yoongi scratches at his ear nervously, head ducked, gaze stuck on his fraying Converse. “Yeah.”
Taehyung prods his side gently, becoming more and more insistent until Yoongi is squirming and giggling and considerably more loose. When Yoongi finally looks up at him, teeth gnawing on his lower lip, Taehyung slides his arm around his shoulders, pulls him close and nuzzles his nose into Yoongi’s hair. “I’ll be right there the whole time, promise.”
Yoongi takes a deep breath, lets it out slow, forces his nerves out with it and—
“Okay.”
♢
They make their way down to floor level, managers and body guards in tow. Passersby keep their distance, but there’s no mistaking the way their faces light up in recognition. Yoongi adjusts his mask a little higher on his nose, curls into himself just a bit. Taehyung senses it and pulls Yoongi into his side, excitedly pointing at the gift shop as they walk by.
“Hyung, look!”
Yoongi follows the direction of his finger. Just beyond the glass walls of the store, hung up prettily on a hanger, is a jersey with the name Jeon printed on the back in large letters. Taehyung smiles wryly and tugs on Yoongi’s hand, forcing him all the way in to take a closer look.
“Buy it,” Taehyung demands.
“Why?” Yoongi hisses under his breath. “So I can drag even more attention to myself?”
“It’s not like anyone is under the impression you’re here for any reason other than him,” Taehyung shrugs, indifferent. “Common knowledge that he’s your best friend.”
Well, shit. He has a point.
Yoongi eyes the shirt warily. It’ll be oversized on him— down to mid thigh when worn, he thinks, not unlike his usual style though. He removes the hanger from the pole, holds it against himself as he looks in the conveniently placed mirror. Taehyung stands behind him, boxy smile stretched wide.
“Looks perfect, hyung.”
Yoongi looks toward the cashier—
“I’ll take it.”
♢
It’s not until the game is almost over that Jeongguk notices Yoongi.
Offense and defense are switching out when it happens. Jeongguk is making his way out to the mound, sweat dripping down his cheeks, brim of his hat slightly off center. He looks focused still, concentration etched into his usually soft features. Yoongi admires it— how passionate and driven Jeongguk is, how he always has been. It’s part of the reason Yoongi loves him.
He’s lost in thought, taking a casual sip from his beer when—
“Hyung,” Taehyung urges, “get up.”
Yoongi blindly follows the order, getting to his feet and— oh. There’s a camera crew coming, barely ten feet away, bounding up the stairs toward them. They’ve done a good job of staying low key so far, but this was bound to happen eventually. Taehyung keeps himself seated, giggling a little and waggling his fingers once the camera is trained directly on them. Yoongi pulls the mask under his chin and gives a shy smile. Out of the corner of his eye he can see them plastered on all the big screens lining the arena.
The response is instantaneous. The surrounding area lights up with thunderous applause and cheering, people near them use the opportunity to whip out their phones and snap a couple pictures. Taehyung blows a kiss at the camera, and the crowd screams even louder.
Yoongi uses the brief respite in attention to look out to where he knows Jeongguk is, and is surprised to see Jeongguk staring right back.
Jeongguk’s eyes are wide wide wide, face unable to contain the emotions he must be feeling. Yoongi blushes, glances at the big screen, then Jeongguk, then back again. Swallows thickly and—
Turns away from the camera, both thumbs rising to point at the emblazoned “JEON” in the middle of his back.
The crowd loses their minds. Taehyung even joins in with raucous cheering.
Yoongi knows he won’t live this down.
He slowly turns back to face the camera, face a pretty shade of pink, before he gives a little finger heart and plops back down into his chair, doing his best to fade away from existence. The cameras blessedly disappear, and Taehyung launches at him in a tight bear hug.
“You should’ve seen his face,” Taehyung whispers against the shell of his ear. “You turned around and he lit up like the grand finale of a fireworks display.”
“Dramatic,” Yoongi mumbles—
But when he pulls away to take another swig of beer, he can’t help the dopey smile tugging at his cheeks.
♢
Jeongguk’s team wins— 19-0
A shutout, they call it.
Incredible, Taehyung calls it.
Show off, Yoongi calls it.
♢
Taehyung runs interference when Yoongi goes to find Jeongguk.
They’re both incredibly aware Jeongguk has played one hell of a game (it couldn’t even be a shutout without him), which means the whole gang will be chomping at the bit to congratulate him except—
Except Yoongi wants to be the first.
He hurries along, quick and quiet, with his personal group of managers and body guards, following the winding path toward the locker rooms Jeongguk and his team will be filing toward themselves. He’s anxious and sweating and overheated as hell, and under normal circumstances he’d be grumpy— but with the way his stomach flutters and his adrenaline pumps, he’s anything but.
They arrive to the hallway a little after Jeongguk’s team makes it there apparently, judging by the shouting and cheering and men dressed in uniform milling about— some already half undressed as they make their way to showers.
Yoongi pokes his head in the doorway most of the men seem to be congregating in and immediately locks eyes with Jeongguk, lounging on a bench opposite where he currently stands. There’s something dark and heady about the way he’s looking at Yoongi, and it makes Yoongi’s mouth dry up instantly, heart plummeting to the floor at light speed. He stands and makes his way to Yoongi, smile smug, confidence practically oozing from his pores.
“I won.”
“That you did.”
It’s silent for a beat, eyes still locked, then—
“Come with me,” Jeongguk whispers, tugging gently on Yoongi’s pinky, urging him back out into the hall. Yoongi goes easy (will always go easy) as they make their way down and around a bend in the walls. Jeongguk stops them when they are, what he must personally deem, a safe distance away.
The chatter of cheering and celebrating is still there in the background, but muted now, subtle. A gentle synthetic breeze blows from a room nearby, cooling the space they stand in considerably. Portraits of former players and teams decorate the walls. The built in shelving behind them is lit up with golden hues, proudly displaying the trophies and awards they’ve earned over numerous years and seasons.
A fitting scene for his confession, Yoongi thinks. Serendipitous somehow. He takes a deep breath, steadies himself to speak as Jeongguk spins to face him and—
Freezes.
Naturally.
But— Jeongguk looks beautiful. And Yoongi is weak when it comes to beautiful things.
The light from the display case reflects off his skin, dusting him with a sheen of gold, painted like the soft rays of a sunset. His eyes are wide and imploring. Questioning. Wanting. He’s biting down nervously on his lower lip, the flesh significantly pinker where his front teeth press in. Yoongi’s torn between wanting to make it stop and wanting to see if he can make them look that way all over.
He swallows against the lump in his throat and reaches up to gently tuck the strands of hair hanging in Jeongguk’s face behind his ears. His hair is getting so long, Yoongi thinks— wants to play with it a little, tangle his fingers in it and brush it back, maybe tie it into a little bun. He can feel his cheeks heat up, embarrassed by his own thoughts, but he trudges forward, leans up slowly on his toes. Yoongi’s fingers carefully wind around Jeongguk’s neck, grazing the edge of his jaw, his ears. His skin’s a little sweaty, and Yoongi’s hands are a little damp with it, but it’s no matter. They’re close now, so close. Yoongi’s eyes flicker down to Jeongguk’s lips, watches him diligently as he runs his tongue over the bottom one. He sort of wants to try that out for himself.
There’s a sharp intake of breath as he moves in, and he doesn’t know which one of them lets it free, but there’s no time to wonder, to guess—
Yoongi closes his eyes and connects their lips, gentle and hesitant and warm warm warm.
Finally, Yoongi thinks, finally.
He sighs a little, grip tightening where it holds Jeongguk, before regretfully loosening and slipping away, hands curling into fists against his own chest. He lets his lips linger for another beat before pulling away, barely a hairsbreadth between them as he moves back. His eyes slowly slip open, moving to scan over Jeongguk’s face for any sign of discomfort, but the other boy looks as though he’s been etched from stone, frozen, unmoving.
Yoongi’s ready to panic, starts to panic, when Jeongguk’s eyes flash open, expression shocked but—
“Hyung—“
But happy.
“I love you,” Yoongi blurts. And then, as an afterthought, “surprise.”
Jeongguk’s jaw snaps shut, and for a second Yoongi is terrified that he read this wrong, that he’s about to lose his best friend, that—
His back hits the wall with a thud.
Jeongguk’s lips are on his, hot and wet and eager. One hand on Yoongi’s hip, grip firm and grounding, the other threaded tight in the strands of Yoongi’s hair, keeping his head tilted at just the right angle he needs to have access. Yoongi whimpers, kisses back with just as much ferocity as he can muster, fingers curling into the front of Jeongguk’s uniform, holding fast, holding tight. Jeongguk feels it, presses more fully against him in response, trapping him against the wall as his tongue teases at the seam of Yoongi’s lips.
Yoongi lets him in (easy, always easy), lips parting, tongues tangling. Jeongguk wastes no time in delving in deep, swiping over every inch, seemingly trying to devour Yoongi whole (he wouldn’t mind). Yoongi returns the action with fervor, teeth nipping gently at the flesh within reach (god he’s always wanted to do that). Jeongguk groans in the back of his throat, and Yoongi decides then that they’re in a much too public place for their actions. He nudges gently at Jeongguk’s chest, grateful when Jeongguk catches the hint and pulls back to leave just enough room between them.
The kiss slows once their hunger regresses— mouths moving less urgent, more thorough, tongues glancing, lips softly nibbled between teeth.
Jeongguk is the one who garners the strength to pull away first, pressing one (two, three) chaste kisses to Yoongi’s spit slick lips, almost as if he can’t control himself now that he’s been given the privilege. He nuzzles his nose gently into Yoongi’s cheek, little sigh puffed out hot against his skin. Yoongi’s left buzzing with the lingering thought that Jeongguk tastes like sweet peppermint (and that he doesn’t think he’s tasted anything better).
“I love you too, hyung.”
And it feels like a lot, suddenly. Like too much, maybe. Yoongi’s head is reeling, ducts bursting to life with newborn tears.
Yoongi chokes on his sob, a soft strangled noise high in his throat, as he falls forward to bury his face in Jeongguk’s neck. Jeongguk cradles him against his chest, traipses his hands over the bumps of his spine as Yoongi inhaled shaky breaths. Tears spring loose, much to his chagrin, but Jeongguk hushes him and gently rocks him through it.
The moment doesn’t last long, but Yoongi is overwhelmed. Overwhelmed and grateful and finally, finally, happy.
He pulls back to say as much, and is met with Jeongguk’s own tears, his expression a watery mirror of Yoongi’s own. Yoongi wonders if the years he’s spent tip-toeing around his own feelings, pushing them away and fighting against them, from fear and from longing, have been just as hard on him as Jeongguk. If maybe they’ve been fighting the same battle all these years, all this time. Hoping against hope.
It strikes him suddenly that maybe for Jeongguk it’s been even longer, even harder. That maybe if Yoongi had given in, been stronger, they’d have come together sooner, been happier sooner.
“Hyung is sorry, Guk-ah,” Yoongi whispers, thumbs brushing away the wet trails on Jeongguk’s cheeks. “Should’ve told you sooner, should’ve loved you harder.”
Jeongguk shakes his head vehemently.
“No.”
“No?”
“Now is perfect, hyung,” Jeongguk whispers. “I’m happy it’s now.”
And Yoongi can’t help himself— he grins, eyes crinkled, teeth on full display. He swoops in and tries to kiss Jeongguk through it, but fails miserably, both of them unable to contain their giggles.
That’s how the boys find them— wrapped up in each other, full of smiles and laughter.
“Finally!” Taehyung crows, running at them full speed. The rest follow eagerly, whooping and cheering until they can all throw themselves around the pair, latching on in a giant group hug.
“I’m happy for you,” Taehyung whispers into Yoongi’s hair.
“We all are,” Namjoon adds on— and everyone squeezes a little tighter at that.
They finally break apart with the promise of barbecue and soju (Yoongi’s treat) and everyone hurries off to their respective rides, much obliged to give Yoongi and Jeongguk some momentary privacy in exchange for free food.
Yoongi watches with a scowl as they run off. “I don’t even understand,” he grumbles, “how I ended up being the one paying.”
Jeongguk wraps his arms tight around Yoongi’s waist, swooping down to press a kiss to his pink cheek. “Because you love me,” he teases with a giggle, “and I just won a game for you.”
“Other people were involved in winning that game, Jeongguk-ah.”
“But you only care about me.”
And really, Yoongi can’t argue with that logic. So instead he shoves at Jeongguk’s chest and wrinkles his nose, feigning disgust. “Go shower, you stink.”
Jeongguk wiggles his eyebrows and holds Yoongi tighter. “Wanna join me?”
“Jeon Jeongguk!” Yoongi gasps, thoroughly scandalized.
Jeongguk giggles and tightens his arms around Yoongi, leaning down to capture his lips in a wet kiss.
For all his grumbling, Yoongi is decidedly weak now, melting into Jeongguk’s chest as he tugs him closer. After waiting years to do this, Yoongi can’t bring himself to even entertain the idea of denying the younger what he wants. Jeongguk seems to sense this, sliding his hands down and getting a firm grope of Yoongi’s ass. Yoongi startles, pulls back scoffing and Jeongguk just— snickers, backs off with a little wiggle of his fingers and a cute purse of his lips.
“Wait for me at the car, hyung?”
Jeongguk’s eyes are big, bright— Yoongi’s a little lost in them.
“Yeah,” he murmurs (a little dazed, a little gone), watches until Jeongguk disappears from view.
I’d wait for you forever.