Chapter Text
Jungkook wasn’t a pervert. He just wasn’t, but it wasn’t exactly easy to keep his eyes off Namjoon, a man who happened to be 90% lean muscle and legs. Not to mention he was beautiful, his olive, tan skin glowed under the heat of the afternoon sun.
Jungkook couldn’t find it in his heart to admit that watching Namjoon so intently was, kind of, on the creepy side, and to be honest, he hadn’t even realised he was staring until the farm baker, Min Yoongi prodded him in the ribs, a light chuckle escaping the shorter man, “Jungkook, one of these days he’s going to catch you.”
“Huh?” Jungkook replied, a blush rising to his cheeks – he couldn’t quite place if it was a side effect of the summer heat, or if realising Yoongi had seen him glowering at his boss had unlocked embarrassment as his most significant emotion, “I wasn’t!”
“You weren’t what?” Yoongi said, pushing a basket toward Jungkook that was filled with fresh bread and muffins, “What weren’t you doing?”
Jungkook could feel the burn in his cheeks becoming stronger, and realised that, yes, this was embarrassment, and he was about knee deep in it, “Staring at Namjoon.”
“Exactly.” Yoongi said, a smile on his lips as he bashed his fist against Jungkook’s surprisingly lean arm, “Jesus, have you been working out, kid?”
“Might have been.” Jungkook retorted, spinning on his heel, the basket of baked goods hanging from his forearm, “Impressed, tiny?”
Yoongi didn’t like that it made him blush, but yet here he was, discreetly fanning his plump cheeks with a stray pamphlet that he’d picked up from Hoseok’s lemonade stand that stood just outside the bakery doors, “Fuck you.”
“Oh, you’d love that, huh?” Jungkook joked, sliding the basket onto the counter inside the not-so-spacious shop, “Bet you’d love that, Yoonie.”
“Do not patronise me, Jeon. You absolute bottom.” Yoongi said, following him inside and pulling up a stool to one of the taller tables, hopping graciously onto it,
“Bottomphobia isn’t cute, Mr. Min.” Jimin said, as he strolled into the shop, his teeth on full show as he beamed at the pair of boys, “Shouldn’t you be sifting some flour?” He continued, as he dropped a tiny, yet affectionate kiss to the baker’s cheek, causing another blush to rise on his cheeks,
“Shouldn’t YOU be helping our boyfriend pick some flowers?” Yoongi said, pushing his hand against Jimin’s chest, “Poor Taehyungie, he’s probably so warm in this weather.”
Jimin’s eyes softened as Taehyung was mentioned, the sight made Jungkook smile, before he said, “Can’t you two go and be sickening somewhere else?”
“Jungkook, baby.” Jimin said, floating over to the taller boy, and cupping a tiny hand against his cheek, “You, too, could know what this feels like, if you’d only speak to Namjoon.”
“Did somebody say Namjoon?” A deeper voice said from the doorway, causing all three of the boys to turn their heads, “Do you need help?” Namjoon said, wiping his forearm against his forehead, collecting the perspiration from it, and smile plastered across his face.
All three of the boys sighed, it was like a scene from a romantic comedy – Namjoon couldn’t possibly be a real person, his muscles plump and stretched, shining in the sun as the beams glinted off the beads of sweat that had collected across them – Jungkook swore he felt his heart jump into his throat – or maybe it wasn’t his heart jumping at all.
Fuck. Namjoon was hot, unbelievably so.
Jungkook had no idea how to act, especially when Namjoon strode over to him, a basket of vegetables and wheat on his arm, “Jungkookie? Let me help.” He said, leaning around the younger boy, his front pressing against Jungkook’s back – who was stacking various loaves of bread into their designated spot.
Was being the key word here, he was no longer stacking anything anywhere, he was frozen – it was like every muscle in his body had ceased operation. His brain, he was fairly certain, had short circuited, and the only thing running through it, at a velocity equal to nothing God could have ever created, was Namjoon. Namjoon. NAMJOON.
Jungkook knew that he had turned the ugliest shade of red, he could tell simply by listening to the gentle giggles of his colleagues from behind him, Namjoon’s breath on his neck as he reached for the olive infused loaf in his hand wasn’t helping dissipate the feeling of absolute terror that was coursing through the younger boy’s veins at that moment, “Jungkookie!” Namjoon practically sang, as Jungkook span around, the loaf still in his hand,
“I’m.” He said, realising just how close his face was to Namjoon’s now, the heat of the head farmer’s breath against his face snapping him into the harsh reality of what he’d done, “It’s okay, hyung.”
Namjoon turned his head a little, raising an eyebrow as he watched both Yoongi and Jimin leave the shop, hurried whispers leaving them as they rounded the wooden corner of the door, “What’s okay, Kookie?” Namjoon said, his voice lower now – almost a whisper,
Jungkook thought he must be dreaming, this couldn’t be real, not in a million years could this be real. Trapped between several loafs of freshly baked bread, and his practically godly boss? Yeah, he must be dreaming.
And, as if by magic, inglorious cockblocking magic - as he felt Namjoon take the loaf from his hand and push it onto the shelf, his face dipping even closer to Jungkook’s own – he heard the sound of Seokjin’s voice floating through the humid afternoon air, causing Namjoon to jump back by at least a foot, the bread clutched in his hand as if it were a safety blanket,
“Hello boys!” Seokjin said, entering the building to witness the panicked looks traded between the youngest of the bunch, and the leader, “What do we have here?” He joked, his eyebrow quirking as he walked toward Namjoon, taking the dented bread from his grip, “I’m not sure we can sell this anymore, Joonie.”
“Yeah, hah. Sorry?” Namjoon said, panic still evident in his eyes as he turned to Seokjin, who was smirking, “Tell Yoongi I’m sorry.” He continued, looking toward the basket he’d bought to the shop, back to Jungkook, then finally toward the door, “I have.. stuff to do?” He finally said, rushing toward the door, his once tan skin presenting more like the tomatoes he’d left for Jungkook to display,
Once he had left the shop, Jungkook turned to Seokjin, who had a knowing look plastered across his face, accompanied by his signature smirk, “Fucking HELL, hyung? You couldn’t just stand outside for two more minutes?”
“Oh? Why would that be, Kookie?” Seokjin said, ripping a portion of bread from the ruined loaf and popping it between his lips, “Was something happening?”
“N-no.” Jungkook stuttered, the blush hadn’t died from his cheeks, “No, I mean. Hah, um, of course not.”
“Oh baby, it’s okay.” Seokjin said, slinging an arm around Jungkook and leading him to the stool that had been occupied by Yoongi, “One day, when you and Namjoon stop acting like school kids, you’ll realise that all this nonsense was unnecessary.”
“Seokjin, I’m not exactly inclined to take relationship advice from someone who tried to propose to his boyfriend during a,” Jungkook flung his hands up and created quote marks in the air, “Quote, unquote, romantic horse ride, and ended up face first in a pile of shit.”
Seokjin cringed visibly and audibly at the memory, “Fuck you for remembering that. However, your point remains invalid under the concept that I am married, despite falling in shit, and you are single.”
Jungkook sighed, nodding, “Right.”
“Look, kid, maybe you should talk.” Seokjin said, just as Hoseok strolled into the store,
“I’m sick to my teeth of lemonade.” Hoseok complained, picking a cold bottle of water from the shelf, “And kids, Seokjin, we are never having kids. Ever.”
Seokjin smiled, unhooking his arm from Jungkook’s shoulder and moving over to his husband, who quickly threw himself around Seokjin, “Baby, c’mon, it’s almost time to clock off. You’re exhausted.”
Jungkook grinned at the complete love that the two had for each other, the trust they had was astounding, and Jungkook wished he could have that – one day, today, whenever really, he sighed slightly too loudly, which caught Hoseok’s attention,
“Kookie!” He said, his voice higher than usually as he unwound himself from Seokjin and pressed an outstretched hand onto Jungkook’s neck, “Oh baby, you look sad, what happened?”
“Your stupid husband just interrupted Namjoon’s admittedly weak attempt to seduce me.” Jungkook said, glaring daggers at Seokjin, who simply smirked, an evil huff escaping his pursed lips,
“He what!?” Hoseok replied, turning to Seokjin, “Kim Seokjin, I hope he’s lying. You know how I’m rooting for Kookie to get his tall, muscly hole.”
“Never, ever say that again, Seokie.” Jungkook said, patting a hand against Hoseok’s back as he and his husband both began to laugh, “Now, both of you go. Let me finish up.”
-
The evening rolled around quicker than Jungkook thought.
Technically, Namjoon only paid him until 6pm, and that had passed hours ago. He didn’t mind though, Jungkook loved his job – and honestly, he preferred it here to the cramped apartment he lived in with his best friend, Yugyeom, who had recently gotten himself a lovely girlfriend – her name was Jihyo, and she was probably one of the prettiest girls that Jungkook had ever seen. Yugyeom deserved someone who loved him, but Jungkook would rather not have to see it,
“Kookie?” A voice said, causing Jungkook to jump a little, a gentle night time breeze entering the shop as the 21-year-old finished mopping the floor around him, “Shouldn’t you be home?”
It was Namjoon, clad in a pink jumper, sleeves proceeding the length of his toned arms, a pair of thickly framed round glasses sat atop his miniature, button nose, a book, something classic, held in his large hands,
“I should. Yugy is seeing Ji tonight, I wouldn’t want to interrupt them. I’ll go home when they’re sleeping.” Jungkook said, as the gentle tones of Taehyung’s voice floated throughout the room from the younger boy’s record player, “Tae has such a lovely voice, right, hyung?”
“He does. He’s wasted here.” Namjoon said, padding his way into the shop in only a pair of excessively fluffy socks, “What’s this song called? I’d like a copy.”
“Scenery.” Jungkook said, propping the mop against the wall and falling into a plastic chair that sat next to the window at the front of the shop-come-café, “It’s beautiful.”
Namjoon felt a small blush come to his cheeks as he listened to the lyrics being crooned by his friend through the speakers, ‘I want to make you mine.’
“Koo?” He said, clearing his throat a little, “Would you like to.. Would you like to come to the house? Until Yugy.. Well, y’know, until you’d like to go home?”
“Namjoon-hyung, you don’t have to.” Jungkook replied, shaking his head a little, “I’m fine here.”
“I know I don’t have to, I want too.” He said, holding his arm out towards Jungkook, who looked at him with wide, deep eyes, like he’d just hung the moon and said it was for him, “I bet you haven’t eaten either. I made pumpkin soup.”
“Oh yum!” Jungkook said, slightly too eagerly as he reached for Namjoon’s hand, smiling, “I love soup!”
Jungkook hated soup.
But, Jungkook loved Namjoon.