Work Text:
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coffee.
definition: nectar of the gods; the greatest liquid sustenance a mortal being will ever obtain, the light at the end of the tunnel, the sunshine through the gloom and doom; thirty nine percent of min yoongi’s body composition.
location: the crappy starbucks next door the record shop.
specific location: right between the walls of min yoongi’s groaning, moaning, despairing stomach.
for a moment, the world around yoongi is frozen. movement is blurry blurry blurred until it eventually fades from sight. noise dwindles into a low hum, a deep purr. there is suddenly intensified awareness regarding his fingers wrapped around the warm cup, regarding his breathing as the bitter smell wafts up toward him. a fire runs through him, lightning shooting through his spinal cord, his toes curling from such sensations. yoongi's mind is relaxed, clear, pure. it's as if everything ugly, dirty, tainted has been washed away, leaving not one speck of residue behind. has he been cleansed? has he ascended toward the heavens above? is this real life? yoongi has no answer, but he can truly proclaim that in this moment, he has reached a settling inner peace.
he is happy. so so so utterly happy.
and then the record scratches, and the frame unfreezes. life suddenly resumes, no longer blurred into the background and no longer a pleasant buzz, and yoongi is ready to kill.
he'll start with the vinyl record himself: namjoon.
"what did you just say to me?"
"bro, it's literally just coffee."
yoongi growls.
namjoon holds his hands up, eyebrows raised up. "fine then. not just coffee."
"damn straight it ain't," yoongi grunts. "why are you here anyway? you don't even like starbucks."
namjoon's brows raise even higher. "yeah, and you absolutely despise it. why are we here? what a question, what a question. i'll go first. i'm here because i saw you through the window. you, min yoongi, who once said you would rather gouge your eyeballs out with an ice cream scoop than enter another coffee shop that prides itself in horrible extremist capitalistic ventures. color me surprised, but i needed to make sure it really was you sitting in here. wow, great, awesome. now your turn."
yoongi blinks. "what?"
namjoon blinks. "what do you mean, what?"
"you talk too fast, joon," yoongi grumbles. "what do you want from me? can't you see i'm trying to enjoy this beautiful cup of coffee sent to me from an angel of motherfucking tengoku?"
namjoon looks worried, yoongi doesn't care.
the younger scoots his chair closer to his hyung's. he almost reaches for yoongi's hand, the one not holding his heaven-borne cup, but retracts when said hyung growls at him again.
namjoon has it rough.
"yoongi, seriously. the last time you willingly entered a starbucks, two employees were fired, the manager was sent to work in a different store, the health and safety department shut the store down for two days, and you went to court."
yoongi sniffs his coffee again, just because he can. "if i remember clearly, i believe i was falsely accused and sent off with a slap on the wrist."
"hyunnnnnnng."
now yoongi pays attention. namjoon doesn't whine, nor does he call him hyung, unless he's seriously upset or seriously drunk. yoongi cannot take this lightly.
"namjoon-ssi. did you go drinking in the middle of the day?"
"oh my god, i swear to—"
"because i'm not judging, really. just wondering why i wasn't invited. huh. i thought i was your favorite hyung."
namjoon is fuming, yoongi is in love with his coffee.
"seokjin-hyung will always be my favorite."
yoongi looks up, eyes narrow and sharp.
"and hoseok's mixtape slaps more than yours."
"why, you little—"
"or at least, that's what eighty five percent of soundcloud users think."
yoongi stares, namjoon stares.
yoongi sighs. "my coffee machine broke this morning. i thought i could make it through my shift without my morning cup, but the shop's been slow and i've had a headache all morning. not now, though. i've got caffeine in me now."
namjoon is quiet, wanting more. yoongi is disgruntled, sad to give more than already given.
"one of the kids working here came into the shop on his break, looking for a miles davis for a friend. he bought the vinyl and told me i looked like a small angry gremlin who needed to experience the gift of friendship and starbucks."
namjoon nods. "what a mood, i highly agree. with everything but the last two words, that is."
yoongi rolls his eyes. "whatever. anyways, i tried laughing him off, but apparently he was serious. said one of his coworkers here made the best french-press coffee in the world. he also said it would be on the house."
"oh, never mind. makes sense now. you like free things."
"i do like free things," yoongi easily agrees. "very much. i was also in dire need of caffeine, so here i am. not sure who made my coffee, but they gave me a mug instead of a damn paper cup, therefore they're valid in my book."
namjoon peers into the mug in question. "so, it's good then?"
"namjoon." yoongi grabs his hand so quickly that namjoon jumps in his seat. "this is the best fucking coffee i have ever had in my sad poor twenty four years on this sad poor planet. i honestly think i would die for this coffee."
namjoon hums, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. "coffee is coffee. if it makes you happy, then so be it. is there anyone watching the shop?"
"until this mug is finished, no music will be sold."
"um, is that really a goo—"
"thank you for your input, namjoon-ssi, but i have everthing under control. i'm agust fucking d, master of tongue technology, genius producer. i got this."
there is silence, harmony following shortly. namjoon is perplexed, because he has no idea what being a genius producer has to do with working a shift at the shop, but sips on the hot tea he bought before and opens his book, making sure to slide his chair away from yoongi's. quite a bit away.
yoongi goes to hold his mug with both hands, bringing it closer to his face to take in the aroma once again. his eyes catch movement, namjoon's foot tap tap tapping away at the ground, a habit that remains even though there are no headphones covering his ears. next to namjoon's thumping is a pair of high top converse, bright red in color but covered in dark stains of questionable substances. they look worn out, but seem to have been well used, well loved. one shoe, the right shoe, curls inward toward the other shoe, almost nervously. they take a hesitant step closer to him, and yoongi sees doodles of tiny cats on the outer side of the left shoe, and—
wait.
closer to him?
yoongi's eyes fly up, and he almost drops the nectar of the gods.
there's a boy in front of him. tall, dark haired, wide eyes, lip bitten, and cheeks flush.
the boy wearing beloved red converse is cute, and yoongi... yoongi... has got this. he's good. he's agust d. he has this in the bag. have you seen his bag? it's hella thick with cucumber-cool confidence. so, yoongi has definitely got this.
"sorry to disturb you, sir. i was just wondering if the coffee was to your liking. taehyung asked me to make the french press for him, not for a customer. i'm sorry if it doesn't taste up to standard. if... if you'd like, i'll go make another mug for you. i can use guatemalan beans instead of the venezuelan ones from before."
abort. abort mission. yoongi does not have this, repeat, he does not have this. agust d who? master with his tongue who? genius producer who? he only knows min shook-ga, gay panicker extraordinaire, king of blunders, avid cat enthusiast.
for yoongi comes to some conclusions in the few seconds following the other's words.
one, converse boy is the one who made his coffee. two, converse boy is extremely skilled. three, converse boy doesn't know how skilled he is. four, converse boy's friend is not loyal or honest, so screw him. five, converse boy has the most beautiful voice yoongi has ever heard and he already knows converse boy is a singer. six, yoongi wants (needs) to have converse boy feature on one of his songs. seven, it doesn't take much for yoongi to fall.
then suddenly, yoongi's on fire.
yeah, it doesn't take much for yoongi's coffee to fall either. on him, that is.
on the side, namjoon calmly sips his tea. oh, what lovely tea it is, too.
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converse boy has a name, as yoongi soon learns.
jungkook. jeon jungkook.
there are other things he learns about him the day they meet.
- one, jungkook blushes quite easily, especially when offering a spare shirt from his work locker when yoongi's own is declared dead and destroyed.
- two, jungkook is the only barista at this starbucks who knows how to brew a french press or even a simple pour over.
- three, jungkook talks a lot about his passions (film and singing, he fucking called it) and will even extend his break by ten minutes just to keep discussing them with yoongi.
- four, jungkook's eyes shine bright when yoongi tells him about the stupid things his friends (sans him) do.
- five, jungkook looks like the cutest bunny when he laughs at the stories of yoongi himself being stupid.
- six, jungkook isn't ashamed of the i.u. photocard on the back of his phone when said phone is exchanged with yoongi's so they can type in their respective phone numbers.
- seven, jungkook can't seem to meet his eyes when he informs yoongi that he works the same shift the next day and is welcome to another french press ("it's on me, yoongi-ssi." / "hyung. call me hyung, jungkook-ah.") since his spilled to the ground.
when that next day does arrive, yoongi learns something about himself.
he isn't afraid to wake up an hour early just to carefully spend that hour picking out his outfit and cologne for the day.
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"why is hyung smiling creepily at his phone?"
"huh? oh, it's probably that converse boy from starbucks."
"excuse me, what?"
"hyung's smitten with the kid. some bullshit about wanting to wake up next to him every morning so the kid can make the best coffee in the world just for him. some other bullshit about needing to buy him enough converse to the point where he has enough to make a whole ass rainbow."
"sounds gay, i love it. tell me more."
"hobi. it's like yoongi's a whole new person. he's waking up earlier, going to starbucks twice a day, listening to kpop recommedations, so on and so forth. man, he's even shared his unfinished songs with this kid."
"oh my god. namjoonie, our boy is practically in love."
"right? i'm telling you, if i could meet the person who created converse highs, i'd thank them for bringing this boy to life for yoongi. i've never seen him this happy."
"oh my god, look at him. he's sitting right here with us, and he doesn't even know we're talking about him. how cute~!"
"fuck you, i'm not deaf. but since we're talking about it... namjoon. i'm stealing rkive for the entirety of next saturday, so don't plan on going that day."
"um, what?"
"jungkook told me he's never seen a real studio before, and since genius lab is a certifiable mess right now and i'm your most favorite hyung to whom you owe your entire life, i'm stealing your studio for a day so jungkook can experience what it's like."
"..."
"..."
"...why can't you just clean up genius lab?"
"i may be working on a piece for jungkook right now, and i'm not about to pick up my shit when i'm in the middle of creative mode."
"...oh my god, you're actually in love with converse boy."
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jungkook is eight minutes late, running into the starbucks with a red flush and sheepish smile. "there was traffic, hyung, i'm so sorry."
"you're fine, jungkook." yoongi's heart skips a beat, just as it does when he hasn't seen jungkook for a few days. "how'd you get here anyway? taxi, subway?"
jungkook shakes his head. "bus. the subway's too loud for me."
"i could've picked you up on my bike," yoongi frowns. "you know i wouldn't have minded."
jungkook's eyes are soft, pleased. "i know, but i don't want to be a bother."
"never a bother, kook-ah, never," yoongi says gruffly. "go grab your drink, i'll wait outside."
yoongi goes to move, but jungkook grabs his wrist before he can take a step. at yoongi's raised brow, jungkook blushes, but doesn't let go. "you can stay with me, yoongi-hyung. i, i like it when you're next to me."
the dormant mountain in yoongi's stomach suddenly erupts and transforms into a hot volcano, fire running through his veins at the thought of jungkook wanting to be with him, at his needing him to any degree.
"yeah. anything for you, jungkook-ah."
yoongi is pleased when it looks like a similar volcano has blown right on jungkook's cheeks.
he pays for jungkook's drink with only minor protest on the younger's part, fails to avoid taehyung's teasing remarks when he hands jungkook the finished drink ("you look like a small happy gremlin now. i knew you needed some starbucks in your life."), and makes his way out the door. somehow or another, jungkook's hand winded up in his grasp, holding on with no intention of withdrawing. yoongi has no reason to complain.
it's surprisingly only a short walk from their meeting place to the building where rkive resides, but it's enough for yoongi to quietly admire jungkook as they walk through the busy streets of seoul.
and admire he does.
because yoongi likes a lot about jungkook. he likes how there doesn't always have to be conversation present between the two, how they can remain quiet and content with just each other's company. he likes how jungkook hums happily between sips of his americano, and he likes it even more when he recognizes the tune as part of the small piano piece yoongi had written with jungkook in mind. he likes how jungkook's hand fits in his, squeezing sometimes cheekily, but never letting go. he likes the simplicity of casual jungkook (blue jeans, white t-shirt, black beanie, ever-present red converse) and the feeling of comfort he brings with him. he likes jungkook a lot, a hell of a lot.
when they reach the studio, yoongi unlocks the door, quickly peeks inside to make sure namjoon kept his word, and then opens the door wider to let the other in.
"welcome to rkive, jungkook, home of the nicest rap monster you'll ever meet."
jungkook is in silent awe, quietly padding in, gazing at the shelves and shelves of kaws figurines, at the beautiful slab of wood namjoon calls a table, the clean desk and the gorgeous abstract painting behind it, and at the sleek equipment settled nicely in the corner.
there's the microphones, the maschine, the small keyboard, the speakers, the expensive headphones, everything. jungkook looks almost afraid to look, never mind touch.
"genius lab looks something like this?" jungkook asks, almost a whisper by how quiet he is.
yoongi appreciates it. he doesn't like disturbing the peace and energy of a studio with anything loud or startling. it helps him focus better, allows the studio to become a true place of work, somewhere he can think and compose and write about cute baristas with bunny smiles.
"something like this, yeah," yoongi says. "less artwork and floofy stuff though. and there's kumamon instead of kaws."
jungkook giggles. "sounds cute, just like you, yoongi-hyung."
yoongi wants to put a hand to his chest, wants to feel if his heart really is clenching like it feels, but he feels a need to defend himself first. "not cute, jungkook. definitely not cute. come on, i know you've listened to my mixtape, even though you never told me what you thought of it."
jungkook hums and walks around again, but doesn't meet his eyes. "there was too much to say after listening, hyung. lots of different thoughts and feelings. i couldn't put it into words at the time."
"what about now? could you tell me?"
usually, yoongi won't insist. at the time, agust d had one conceptual goal: let them think, let them criticize as they will, let there be those who praise and those who hate. he will accept everything as it comes.
but this is jungkook. this is the boy to whom yoongi sent the soundcloud link just a couple nights ago, and received no response. yoongi wants to know what this beautiful boy thinks of something he holds so dear to him.
jungkook still doesn't look at him, but he finally answers. "i remember i cried for a couple tracks, i remember feeling hopeful for others. i remember... other feelings."
yoongi isn't stupid, jungkook knows yoongi isn't stupid; they both know jungkook is playing coy.
there's something hazy in jungkook's averted eyes, something not subtle enough for yoongi to miss. "you remember... what, exactly?"
"too much." jungkook's eyes meet his, boring in deep. "i felt butterflies, i felt hot all over, i felt like i wanted to see you that night."
"why didn't you?"
"can't say."
there's about two meters of distance between them.
"is that so?" yoongi feels himself move forward, sees jungkook move backward. "want to tell me more, jungkook-ah?"
"n-not particularly," jungkook gulps. his expression gives away his anticipation.
by the time there's less than a meter of space between them, yoongi has backed jungkook into the armless loveseat namjoon uses for power naps. if yoongi gets his way, it's going to find a whole new use.
"which track, kook-ah?" the words are rough, soft.
jungkook is indignant, daring. "you already know which track."
yoongi chuckles. "yeah. i do." he kisses him, and everything explodes in vibrant hues of red.
yoongi already knows coffee made by jungkook tastes lovely, heavenly, out of this world. but this, a jungkook made by coffee, tastes sinful and devastating, something out of his deepest and most bitter desires, coming straight from hell to taunt him away from everything innocent.
yoongi thanks any higher being listening for jungkook's choice of drink from starbucks, and then thanks starbucks' ceo for good measure too.
jungkook's lips are soft, plush, and taste bitter with an undercurrent of something genuinely jungkook. yoongi wants more, feels himself becoming addicted, wants jungkook to be his only drug.
before he can register it, the younger's back is on the loveseat, yoongi above him, lips moving both soft and fierce, a strong juxtaposition that reminds him so very much of their own relationship.
when jungkook breaks off for air, a small gasp escaping him, yoongi slows down, trails kisses onto his cheeks, up his jaw, right behind his ear. jungkook squirms, and yoongi recalls him saying something about being ticklish. yoongi grins and continues to place tiny kisses around his ear, reveling in the sound of jungkook's cute giggles and wide smiles. he only stops when he hears jungkook's breath hitch in a way that doesn't sound all too positive. yoongi catches jungkook's gaze looking somewhere behind him, turns around to investigate, and promptly feels ice run through his limbs.
yoongi must have forgotten to lock the door to the studio behind them, but that doesn't matter. what matters is that jung hoseok is leaning by the doorway, staring down at them, grinning his awful sunshine-hobi smile, taking notes for future blackmail against yoongi.
hoseok opens his mouth to speak, and yoongi already knows it's going to derail even further.
"so," hoseok starts, eyes glittering with glee, "this must be the famous converse boy i've heard so much about."
yoongi is going to kill one (1) man.
he glares at his supposed friend, moving away from jungkook so the younger can adjust himself into a more appropriate position. "i'm sorry, you must have gotten into the wrong room. why don't you go back out and try looking again?" he says, teeth gritting angrily.
hoseok looks even more horribly delighted. "why, yoongi-hyung! how can you think of turning me, jung hoseok, your best friend since ever, away when you have such nice company to introduce me to?"
at this, jungkook seems to perk up. "you're jung hoseok?"
hobi laughs. "oh, my reputation precedes me, i see! tell me, what wonderful things has hyung told you about me?"
jungkook laughs nervously. "um. actually, i've heard about you from a friend of mine. park jimin, you're in his dance class, right?"
"oh? you know jiminie?" hoseok straightens up, smile a touch more sincere. "he's such a great addition to the class. i'm thinking about recruiting him as a dancer for the company i choreograph for."
"really?" jungkook lights up. "hyung would be so happy. he always says great things about you as a teacher. he really admires you." suddenly jungkook blinks, and then he's blushing just as quick. "i'm sorry, i got ahead of myself. my name is jeon jungkook." he gives a small bow of his head. "it's very nice to meet you, hoseok-ssi."
"call me hyung, jungkook," hoseok says easily. "and it's very very nice to meet you too. yoongi-hyung has nothing but praise whenever you're mentioned."
"okay, that's it," yoongi grunts out. "you need to leave."
hoseok pouts, and bats his eyelashes teasingly. "but i only just got here, hyung. you can't kick me out yet."
"i can and i will," yoongi shoots back. "besides, didn't namjoon say you were banned from his studio for the next two months?"
"you break one toy, and suddenly you're blacklisted," hoseok sighs before winking mischievously. "i guess what namjoonie doesn't know won't hurt him. right, jungkook?"
"um." jungkook looks back and forth between both hyungs. "right."
hoseok beams. "i like you already, jungkookie. alright, i guess i can leave you two alone for the time being. try not to miss me too much, though, yoongi-hyung. i'll be back soon."
"get the fuck out."
"fine, fine." the door opens and hoseok steps out. yoongi almost sighs in relief before hoseok sticks his head back in. "you know, if you're gonna do anything sexy on that couch, you should probably get those converse off. i know it's a hassle to take them off, but it'll kill the charm of the sexy doings you're about to partake in."
"jung hoseok. get out of this fucking studio, or i swear to god, i will feed your jordan numbers to holly. and i mean all of them."
"oh, would you look at the time? i need to go... do something important. bye hyung, bye jungkook!"
and with a slam of the door, yoongi and jungkook are alone once again.
yoongi groans, settling back into the cushioning. "sorry about that. he doesn't know when to shut up."
jungkook fidgets with his fingers. "it's okay, i don't mind. besides," he says, "he may have been right about one thing."
yoongi glances sideways at the younger. "and what's that?"
jungkook smiles. "converse highs are pretty hard to get off in the heat of the moment. maybe i should invest in the lows instead."
yoongi stares at him for a second before laughing, feeling oh so very fond of the boy. "god, you're adorable." he wraps an arm around his shoulders, bringing him closer to his chest. "don't get converse lows. fuck hoseok. i think you're perfect as you are, converse highs and all. i wouldn't..." he trails off, distracted by his thoughts.
jungkook peers shyly at him. "hyung?"
his eyes find jungkook's, and the words find his tongue before he can process them. "i'd rather go without seeing the stars in the sky if i can see the stars on your shoes every single day."
jungkook's cheeks bloom with color, and yoongi thinks to himself, yeah. he's the only shade of red i need in my life.
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