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Year One
When Namjoon is informed that he is to be married to the heir of one of their neighbouring provinces, he’s so tired he doesn’t really have a reaction aside from deep-seated relief that there is going to be a solution to their mess somehow. He’s been awake for 30 hours, poring over their financial records, alliance treaties, international aid proposals trying to find something to compensate long term for the loss of income brought on by the recent unseasonally strong storms.
So he just mechanically nods, hugs his father stiffly and lets Hyo-sang lead him into bed. He sleeps for 10 hours and awakens in a panic, can’t believe he slept this long only to remember that there is a solution now - and a different sort of dread comes over him.
His mind starts to run a mile a minute going through all the possible options, but even before he sees his mother’s carefully neutral face, he knows who it is going to be.
“You are to be wed to the Min’s son Yoongi,” his father says language formal, a serious pronouncement, but his tone is mild and cheery, injecting a festiveness into the sombre atmosphere. As if trying to pretend this isn’t what it is - a cattle trade.
His mother grasps his hand and only says. “It’s fine dear, Namjoon will do his duty by his people.” and it makes whatever small resistance that came up in him at the thought of being bartered off in this way deflate - because his mother is right of course. Their fiefdom might be small, but it has a history, it has people in it, who are struggling and it is his responsibility as the prince to try everything possible to mitigate what has happened.
“Of course, I will.” he says and then smiles, forcing himself to feel it, to feel happy at the reality that he won't have to close schools or deal with an unreasonable amount of deaths this winter, that there is something he can do for his people. “So,” he says, clapping his hands and injecting cheer into his voice, “when is this happening.”
He ignores the look Hun-cheol and Hyo-sang throw each other behind his back, only focuses on the way his parents’ shoulders relax as if they had been afraid they would have to fight him on this.
He really had expected it to be him. The Min family had come into an unexpected and enormous amount of wealth two generations back through a combination of luck and extremely thrifty trade practices. They managed to buy themselves an estate, and their fiefdom, though small, had an amount of agricultural production Namjoon had been sort of salivating over even before the waves had crashed onto their shore and devastated the harbours and fishing industry for months.
The only thing that was missing for them to be fully accepted into the upper echelons of society was legitimacy and Namjoon certainly could provide that. The Kim family had received their place among the nobility when the Goryeon rulers still existed, pre-dating even the Chosun dynasty. Namjoon can appreciate that both families are going to get something out of this union. That way he doesn’t have to feel quite as much as a beggar being given a favour by a benign benefactor.
Honestly, he should be happy about it. It’s not as if Min Yoongi is the worst possible candidate. They are about the same age and every time they’ve seen each other he’d been distant, but polite. Namjoon has read some of his writing in his spare time - he’s sharp , his poetry not winding and meandering like his own, but raw in a way that grabs its reader and doesn’t let go.
It’s just...He’s intimidating . Namjoon doesn’t like to admit to it, certainly is never going to, to anyone, no matter how close he’s become with some of the people at court, because it’s simply not very... prince-ly of him. He is going to be a leader – much sooner now that he ever thought, because with the way this marriage is going, him and Yoongi are going to take over the combined leadership of their soon-to-be-merged fiefdoms as soon as possible, the retirement of the old rulers the cornerstone of a smooth transition from two separate provinces into one.
And while this marriage benefits both of them and Namjoon would certainly never want to silence his...spouse-to-be, it is him that brings the legitimacy into this union, so it will fall onto him to be the leader even within a marriage of leaders (something his parents have told him the Mins had accepted without complaint, which made him break out in sweat immediately, unsure if that meant that Min Yoongi had accepted it too, or what kind of masterful statesmanship would be expected from him).
It's just that considering all of that it is less than ideal that the last two times he’s seen the Min heir he’d dropped five different things, nearly walked into a column and could not manage to hold up even a short polite conversation in the face of that small pursued mouth, that pretty, serious face turned towards him, ready to judge him.
But no matter. This was for his country. It was going to be fine. He would make it be fine.
Year Two
When Yoongi stepped into the rehearsal for his own wedding, 8 months ago, he’d been tired. At the time he had told his parents that he wasn’t nervous and mostly he hadn’t been. He was a lot of things - angry, outraged, pissed to be sold to the highest bidder with the fanciest title - but nervous hadn’t made the list.
He didn’t have anything against the candidate as such - Kim Namjoon was fine . They hadn’t really talked before, since they only met on some functions he was forced to attend and in which it was made perfectly clear by the other attendants on what they thought of him even sharing the same breathing space with one of the illustrious Kim heirs.
So his recollection of his future husband was mostly that he was stupid tall, listened way too seriously to a lot of pretentious noblemen and had the worst fake laugh he’d ever heard. The only reason he could conceive, at the time, for anyone to believe his amusement was genuine that they were too blindsided by his title (and maybe his dimples – not that he’d noticed).
All in all, Kim Namjoon didn’t really make an impression on him - he seemed not to be the worst of the bunch of rich nobles that attended these events, but nothing really stuck out (aside from maybe that one time he walked into a pole for whatever reason - his shocked face in that moment was definitely one of the few highlights of that long miserable evening).
The fact that the Kim heir wasn’t the absolute worst didn’t really mitigate his hatred of the situation he was put in and he was certainly ready to fight his parents every step of the way. Right up to the point his mother off-handedly mentioned that with Kim Namjoon taking over the state business he could finally devote all his time to his art.
He knew at the time that he was being manipulated, but the idea of being left alone was too tempting - no state visits, no parading in front of the press or the people he realised a few years back he had a responsibility for, something he couldn’t ignore, no matter how hard he tried.
His parents had promised him that this would be his reward for not making a scene or torpedoing the marriage. That he would get to pursue his passions guilt free – and at the time it had seemed worth his freedom, his pride.
And it worked for the first few months, even though his new husband was mostly stiff and awkward around him - alternating between being a bit condescending and weirdly timid whenever they were forced to spend time together in the hastily constructed new home in the middle ground between their previous dwellings.
Which wasn’t a lot. However blundering Namjoon was when it was just the two of them he was holding up the part of the bargain that had made Yoongi agree to this whole charade – taking on the responsibility of being the leader. He was in meetings and tutor sessions every day, getting a crash course in the day-to-day running of both of their territories, learning about Gyongsang, their economy, culture and unique political challenges.
It seemed exhausting and Yoongi couldn’t help feeling a bit soft towards him when he saw him passed out in one of their shared rooms, a book on the Daegu dialect open across his chest, mouth slack, looking as young as he was, instead of the imposing presence he projected every time he was awake. In fact, the times when their insomnia matched up and they met in the half dark were the only times he got to see glimpses of a personality shining through the facade - and he didn’t dislike it.
Maybe he had even, in a moment of weakness let his fingers lightly travel over that defined nose, contemplated the one small kiss they shared at the end of their wedding ceremony a few times too many. Thought that this wasn’t that bad, one time too often.
He should have known.
“You are going to tour the provinces in preparation of your coronation after all, which means you need to choose a concept for yourself, as well as press strategy.” Chancellor Bang says instead of hello.
“This wasn’t the deal.” is the only thing he can think to say. He can see Hoseok – a new arrival and the first member of their “inner circle” whatever that was supposed to mean – wince out of the corner of his eye, Namjoon stiffen beside him at his flat tone, but he can’t help it. This wasn’t the deal.
“I know it’s not what you’ve hoped for.” Bang goes on, “But it is what it is - people are unsure, they are sceptical about what this change is going to do. Both in the provinces and outside them.” He throws a beseeching glance at Namjoon and for whatever reason it works .
“Hyung, I think they might be nervous of what this is going to do to the power balance.” he says in his measured, deep voice that suddenly Yoongi hates with a passion . “And nervous people get scared and we really don’t want anyone with enough pull and power to be acting out of fear.”
He pulls himself up, turning so he’s facing Yoongi fully. “I think Chancellor Bang’s idea could help with that, make us seem more... approachable and less intimidating.” He goes for a small smile, that make his dimples pop, which is not going to sway Yoongi into agreeing to this, it’s not . “It’s also going to get us out there, give us a platform we might not have otherwise.”
“You think parading us in front of everyone like fucking circus acts is going to do that?!” he snarls quietly and really can’t help the slight feeling of betrayal, even though he shouldn’t, even though he knows that Namjoon doesn’t owe him anything.
He thought Namjoon understood . It’s not like they’ve never talked, they are fucking married and they way he appreciated his music, his poetry seemed like he got it. Yoongi had realised that he had actually read a few pieces Namjoon had published under a synonym and they were good .
When he talked about words and music he sounded more passionate than in any other setting Yoongi had seen him.
“Why do you do it?”
“What, write?”
“Yeah - I know you write your own speeches, too.” Namjoon had turned the slightest bit red at that or maybe it had been a trick of the light throwing a multi-coloured glow over him. “You don’t have to, it’s not like I haven’t heard the speech writers agonize over it.”
“It’s just,” he had stopped there, ordering his words, “I hope that they reach someone.” he’d looked up and his eyes had been so desperate, hungry somehow, “I hope someone hears what I want to say to them and it... resonates , it changes something for them. That’s not going to happen if I’m not writing with sincerity, you know?” he’d looked down, chuckled darkly. “It’s stupid.”
“No it’s not.” he’d saíd. “I understand.”
“Is that your fucking sincerity then.” he hisses and sees the way the words hit Namjoon, how he shuts down and he almost feels bad for it, but then he realises that if Namjoon isn’t fighting with him on this, he doesn’t have a chance. So he deserves it for doing this to him.
For a second it’s quiet in the room, but suddenly Namjoon straightens up and there is a fight in his eyes.
“If this is how we can get people to listen, then yes it fucking is.” he fires back. It shocks Yoongi because while he’s seen Namjoon being commanding with other people he’s never done it to him. “With this we get exposure, with this we might actually change things - why the fuck do you care how your words and music gets out there.”
“Is your pride more important than your art to you, Min Yoongi?” Namjoon says. He stares at the fierce challenge in Namjoon’s eyes, at the way they are lit up and can’t help the corresponding feeling inside his own chest, can’t help the laugh that bubbles up in response, fiery and loud.
“ Never” he says, and his smile is exposing his teeth when he turns back to Chancellor Bang, “What would we need to do.” he says and the fire inside him stays lit with the memory of the surprise and pleasure across his husband’s face.
Year Three
“Yes, Yoongi-ah, you really need to use the cream every day if you want it to have any effect.” he hears Seokjin say from the back of the room over the grumbles of his husband. “Not everyone is graced with a perfect face, so they have to work on it.”
“I thought the point was that people saw us as approachable , doesn’t this kind of defeat the purpose.” Yoongi continues and honestly Namjoon thinks he has a point, wincing when the bleach hits his scalp.
“The point is that they should love you and it’s easier to be loved when you are beautiful.” Seokjin says absentmindedly, checking Yoongi’s skin before giving a tiny nod to the makeup artist waiting in the wings, before starting towards Namjoon on the other side of the room.
Namjoon knows that he’s not wrong in his assessment, had agreed when their staff had recommended hiring someone to take care of their image for them. Seokjin is the best at what he does. Namjoon is still a bit intimidated by the man’s flawless looks, unsure about letting someone else have control over somthing so important. Someone who often seems so careless, who makes jokes about everything, who says he fell into this business through a coincidence and not because of any passion he might have about it. But even though he has a hard time reading Seokjin, because they are so very, very different, he’s glad he’s here.
Not only because it has become apparent that both him and his husband are absolutely helpless when it comes to optics, it’s because that for whatever reason Yoongi really, really likes him. They both went into this alone, most of their staff left to more important business at home, but Namjoon is busy anyway – busy with everything he needs to learn, busy with keeping up with what’s expected of him, busy keeping up the illusion that he knows what he’s doing, that he’s not going to crash and burn and destroy everything they sacrificed to make this work for their people – Yoongi has been more in the background, has had more time to walk their mostly empty house, stare into the as of yet incomplete garden.
Namjoon knows he gets along with Hoseok, has heard his husband’s unrestrained laughter the first time he walked in on them messing around, but he’sdifferent around Seokjin. More settled, like something in him relaxes, as if to say ah a real adult is here , someone he can depend on.
If he’s honest with himself, he’s a bit jealous of that. He knows he’s younger than Yoongi, but he still wishes he also could be someone he depended on, someone to lighten the tangible veil of sadness around it. Especially since he’s trying so hard to be everything, is working around the clock to make their debut as the new ruling couple perfect .
It’s weird, because sometimes he can feel the weight of everything crushing him, all the expectations making him break out in a sweat, having to breathe carefully so he doesn’t end up hyperventilating, needs to make sure that he makes it to the bathroom before he inevitably breaks out in sobs.
And yet the idea of Yoongi depending on him – even though theoretically that should be one more expectation, one more pressure – only makes him yearn, makes him want to prove himself, so that Yoongi can, that he would want to.
“I think they’d love Namjoon-hyung no matter what.” comes a quiet voice from behind him and it makes Namjoon smile and blush at the same time, his instinct to duck his head curtailed by the hands still massaging the foul smelling dye into his hair.
“We all know you would love him even if he was covered in mud, but unfortunately we can’t show everyone Joon-ah’s thighs to get the same effect.” Seokjin says blithely before breaking out in his high pitched laughter - presumably at the blush on both his and Jungkook’s face.
“I can and will fight you.” Jungkook – head of their security chosen for his impeccable record, fighting ability and unassuming face, since they don’t want to send the message that they need security – says through his blush, but he can’t quite hide his smile, when Seokjin ruffles his hair with a fond aish, the disrespect!
“I think it would be worth a try” Yoongi says sardonically, eyes closed and slumped into his chair, the very picture of despondent martyrdom as another level of foundation is being dabbed into his cheeks. “Even if it doesn’t work, at least I’d have something nice to look at.”
And that’s – Namjoon is very glad Yoongi has his eyes closed, because he’s very warm and by the snickers he can hear behind him, just as flushed as he feels, but… He can’t help himself. He knows it’s a joke, must be a joke, since Yoongi hasn’t ever touched him, hasn’t ever even looked at Namjoon that way.
Which is fine – Namjoon knows that’s not what this is about, has been very careful not to go near Yoongi’s quarters at night, because if he’s entertaining guests then it’s important that Namjoon doesn’t know, doesn’t make it awkward.
(and it is about awkwardness and not about the twinge in his chest when he imagines Yoongi with someone else, that pretty face focused, those broad hand touching, stroking over skin, sure and strong, the way he knows they are, from when they had to pose for their pre-coronation tour pictures
Eyes intent on someone, the way he is when he writes, composes, plays Namjoon his music in the middle of the night, asks him what he thinks about it, just them and the moon and nothing else and it’s almost like – )
Anyway it’s not about that, because Namjoon knows he doesn’t get to have that, he’s not entitled to that.
“We’ll take it under advisement.” Seokjin says with a sparkle in his eyes and Namjoon makes a mental note to nip that idea in the bud, because as much as he doesn’t quite understand the man yet, he does know that he would mention it to Chancellor Bang, simply to see his reaction – and Namjoon is only 98% sure he would reject the idea. He’s not ready to risk it.
Year Four
“If one more person asks me about pet names I’m going to murder them.” Yoongi says, trying to impart the seriousness of the threat through tone of voice, through his eyes, through something so it gets through.
“Awww, Yoongi-hyung, don’t be like that, it’s cute!” Jimin says grinning from ear to ear, only to skip off to presumably schedule another torture session or what he calls “interviews”. Yoongi sighs, because he does know that their team does the best they can vetting the questions, but this whole enterprise is there to promote them being normal people, a normal couple, harmless and relatable – which unfortunately means some personal questions that they can give some carefully worded answers to.
It’s just that – aside from him kind of breaking out in hives at the thought of having to share anything on that level of personal with not only a reporter but the legions of people having access to it in print – it’s that there isn’t anything to report on.
It’s not like they hate each other, quite the opposite. No matter how insurmountable their distance seemed at the start you can’t live with someone for so long, can’t work and go on a 10 month tour of their provinces together without that distance shrinking.
He would go as far to say that Namjoon and he are comfortable now, with each other, if not with their roles. He leans back against the couch in another stupid fucking waiting room and watches Taehyung fiddle with Namjoon’s expensive shirt. He can’t quite make out the words but the cadence of Taehyung’s scolding and Namjoon’s embarrassed whines make it clear that he’s somehow managed to rip something in the 5 minutes he’s been wearing his outfit and it makes him smile involuntarily.
(Why they had to change again is truly beyond Yoongi – Jimin keeps insisting that it’s important to make it seem that their interviews are stretched out, not just them sitting in pretty much the same room for 5 hours now, answering a string of the same 5 questions over and over again. It doesn’t matter that much to Yoongi - he’s managed to convince the powers-that-be that his style should be simple and chic, so he normally gets to wear a different version of the same basic outfit.
Namjoon hasn’t had the foresight for this and honestly, at this point would probably break Tae’s heart if he insisted on simpler outfits)
The boys have been good for him, Yoongi thinks sometimes, their little ragtag group, their open affection giving Namjoon something Yoongi clearly wasn’t providing – a chance to be silly, to leave his leader persona behind at the end of the day with his duty. That it was ok to be just Namjoon, somtimes, instead of being Your Highness Kim Namjoon II, at all times
Yoongi knows he’s not the type to give out spontaneous hugs or compliments and at first Namjoon hadn’t seemed like someone who wanted or needed that.
But the more he watched him melt a bit into every one of Jimin and Taehyung’s hugs, the way he blushed over Jungkook’s open admiration, the pleased way he accepted Seokjin’s fussing, the clearer it became that this was just part of the role he thought he needed to play.
Yoongi admires and trusts Namjoon-the-leader, can get swept away just as easily as Jungkook when he sees him in meetings, making decisions, fighting for his – no their – people. Easily and willingly answers those questions – how he feels giving the reins to Namjoon when it comes to state affairs – with all sincerity: He’s a great leader. I trust him.
(Tries to ignore the way Namjoon always fidgets at that, even when his face gives nothing away when the cameras are on them. Needs to ignore it, because it doesn’t mean anything, he knows it doesn’t.
Namjoon is weak to compliments, tries to hide how pleased the make him, and Yoongi’s aren’t special. It’s just that sometimes he wishes they were).
He also knows that Namjoon thrives on what Yoongi can give him – shows it in the way his eyes light up when they enter their 40th minute of arguing over the best stanza, when they find the right beat. Knows that it’s him Namjoon comes to when his head is loud and the world too quiet.
Knows that when Namjoon says I can only be a good leader, because I have Yoongi-hyung by my side he’s thinking of the nights they sit close together, Yoongi listening to Namjoon whisper I’m so scared, hyung, what if I mess this up, what if I can’t do this in a small, scared voice. The way he settles under him when he replies You can . The way that makes him feel like he’s floating, the way it makes him itch to turn around and pull him against him, so they are pressed together from head to toe, imagining the way his face might look if –
“Hyung,” Namjoon says, suddenly right next to him, “Tell Tae that they aren’t going to film us from behind, so it doesn’t matter that there are stains on the back.” He’s still pouting, his hair having fallen out of the neat swoop Seokjin put them in before this session of interviews. It makes them flop over his forehead. He’s so cute like that, Yoongi has a hard time swallowing for a second.
It makes Yoongi reckless, makes him reach up and ruffle his hair even more, can’t help enjoying the flush it pulls up, visible even underneath the makeup, smile so wide he knows his gums are showing. “How the hell did you even manage that, you’ve been wearing this outfit for 5 minutes.”
When Namjoon fidgets only to say “There was a really cute gecko, but it shouldn’t be inside, that’s dangerous so I tried to catch, but it was too quick and then I tripped.” Yoongi can’t help the way he breaks out laughing.
“Hyung, so mean.” Namjoon says, but he’s smiling too, looking weirdly proud, as if tripping on air is an accomplishment.
“Thanks for that Joon-ah,” he says when he calms down a bit, “I’ll hold on to that mental image when the next reporter asks me which party we will go to next.”
Namjoon gives him a commiserating look. “Honestly. We’ve both published a poetry collection in the last year, why wont they ask about that .”
“It’s because they have no taste. And they probably didn’t understand it.” Yoongi says with a dramatic sniff, so he can see Namjoon give one of his real laughs, a loud undignified sound, so much better than the one he uses when he needs to pacify the media or nobles at society parties.
Year Five
“What if they actually hate me.” he thinks he says it under his breath, but judging by the tired sigh from next to him, he clearly didn’t.
“Why would they suddenly hate you, you’ve been getting gushing love messages for years .” Yoongi says, his tone flat. “Stop freaking out, this was your idea after all.”
“Yes, but I have stupid ideas all the time, hyung.” he can’t seem to stop biting at his nails, wringing his hands, nervous ticks that he thought he’d already grown out of.
“It’s not. It’s a good idea. Which is why I agreed, why Hobi agreed, why even Chancellor Bang agreed.” Yoongi starts rummaging in his bag, only to pull out a granola bar and shove it into his hands, coincidentally stopping him from ripping out another hangnail. “Now eat this before you fall over, I know you didn’t eat breakfast.”
“How would you know.” he grumbles, but obediently opens the wrapper at Yoongi’s stern look.
“I checked with the kitchen staff.” he says casually, as if it’s nothing, as if it doesn’t make a shot of warmth go through him, leaving his face tingling. Yoongi is like that – thoughtful in an understated way. He doesn’t show affection through hugs, but he does stuff like this – checking in and taking care of you.
He didn’t think that way at first, but the second Jungkook showed up – Jungkook, baby fat still in his face, so nervous around them that he spoke so quietly they could barely understand – he immediately took him under his wing, patient and kind in a way that made Namjoon’s heart pound.
At that time he didn’t think he’d ever be the recipient of the look Yoongi always had on his face when Jungkook came to them – intent and so heart-achingly gentle – and that knowledge had stung.
But here he is four years later and it turns out that look still hurts him – it’s directed at him now, but it makes him ache , every part of him yearning to close the distance, to slump against Yoongi’s small but strong frame and close his eyes, to have his hands card through his hair in the way he does sometimes, when it’s the middle of the night and the darkness like a blanket around them.
“Which honestly was just a confirmation check – mostly it’s because I know you.” Yoongi sends him an amused glance, “We’ve been living together for five years now, obviously I know you best.”
Namjoon doesn’t know what to say to that so he shoves the granola bar into his mouth – his favourite flavour, because Yoongi is thoughtful and attentive. Namjoon wants to kiss him. He would have an easier time with that need, if Yoongi would stop pointing out how long they’ve known each other, how well they know each other.
On the one hand it’s really great how comfortable they are now, all their edges eroded by time, their arguments still fierce and passionate, but no longer cutting. They know each other’s habits, the way Yoongi is grouchy in the morning, and gets pissed at Namjoon leaving his shoes everywhere, but never bothers to check if he’s wearing the shirt that actually belongs to himself instead of Namjoon.
On the other hand, it's a constant ache, a constant reminder that they haven’t just lived together this long, but that they’ve been married – and that the way he is now with Yoongi, comfortable and settled is pretty much how he’s always wanted his marriage to be. That there is no one that fits him as well and that he should count himself lucky that he got to have him, simply because his family has a title. He should be grateful. Instead he’s hurting all the time, because the parts of Yoongi he can’t have, that he carefully and meticulously makes sure he never finds out if someone else gets, become more present in his mind every day.
He’s jolted out of his thoughts by a water bottle hitting his lap, only just missing his balls. “Drink that, Hobi just texted – the first people are going to come in in a minute.” By the way Yoongi is smirking the trajectory of the bottle was not accidental, so Namjoon doesn’t feel bad for shoving him, so he falls into his seat.
In true Yoongi fashion, he makes the stumble look like that was always the way he wanted to land on the chair, half on it, half on the table in front of him. Namjoon wishes he knew what that smirk feels like on his skin, maybe on the inside of his thighs –
He shakes his head, trying to clear it, because he can’t be horny here, even though that’s the one surefire way he’s found to get rid of his nervousness. A lot of people put a lot of work and lost a lot of sleep making this a reality after all.
He’s not seen Jungkook sleep for at least 2 weeks, always the first one up and the last one to bed. In the run-up to the event he’s had a truly frightening intense look on his face at all times. He'd stopped him last night pushing him against a wall, sniffing only to then say I promise that nothing will happen to you or Yoongi-hyung. I’ll die first. He'd walked off right afterwards with his cellphone in his hand coordinating another shift of the subtly dressed, unassuming but probably terrifying bodyguards posted at strategic points throughout the room.
He focuses on the double door that are right across the table he and Yoongi are sitting at – he refused to sit on their ceremonial chairs, the association of omnipotent ruler and subservient subject something he wants to avoid. The doors that are going to open any moment now and let in the people that signed up to this, their people.
He didn’t even notice that he’d started wringing his hands again, until he feels Yoongi’s settle on top of them, long slim fingers slipping through his own and gripping tight. “It’s going to be fine, Joon-ah.” Yoongi says in his deep voice, his 3am voice, the one he uses when it’s just them, their fears and the moon.
“These are our people and we are going to hear what they have to say.” he continues. “You’ll finally get to hear what they think, what they need, individually, instead of filtered through statistics or data or reports or the internet.”
“You can help, give them something back for all the love and the support they’ve been sending you the last 2 years.” The way he can hear the awe he feels reflected in Yoongi’s smooth voice settles something in him, makes him straighten up and squeeze Yoongi’s hand back.
“We both can.” he says, his voice only shaking a bit, and he hears Yoongi’s in-drawn breath at that, sounding surprisingly wet.
He knows he’s going to make this a regular event, no matter what anyone else says, because of the way an old woman grips his hand and tells him how his efforts in crop diversity has saved their village. When a man tells him in a hopeless whisper about the mysterious illness that has affected half of the children in his small border city. The stunned tone of voice when Namjoon asks for the name, for details, writing it all down.
But even if all of that had not happened, he would have made this possible for the way Yoongi goes still when a young woman grips his hand, tells him how his music saved her at a time when she needed it. Thanks him with tears in her eyes.
He doesn’t even feel the time passing, doesn’t know that it’s been 5 hours, until Jimin closes the doors on the last guests. Just grips Yoongi’s hand in a death grip.
Ironically it’s Yoongi who finds the words for him, who says in a hoarse voice. “I think it’s reached them. Your sincerity.” Can’t stop the way a harsh sob breaks through his throat at that. Thinks he might be dreaming, after all, when Yoongi envelops him in a tight hug, both their faces tucked into the other one’s neck, dampness spreading.
Year Six (1)
“So when are you finally going to make a move.” Seokjin asks him out of the blue. It makes him startle a bit, scaring away the fish that was just starting to circle his outflung line.
“You aren’t supposed to move in fishing, hyung.” he sighs settling back, after checking that his bait is still attached. “You are supposed to wait for the fish to come to you.”
Seokjin lets out a thoughtful noise. “They are not going to come without proper bait, Yoongi-ah.”
“I think I got pretty good bait.” he says mildly.
“Do you?” Seokjin asks and he sees that he’s turned around in his seat, staring at him with a piercing look.
“Of course I do, you know I make it myself and it’s the highest quality” he says, confused.
“I’m just saying that if the fish isn’t biting then it might be a good idea to reconsider your strategy.” Seokjin continues still weirdly intense considering they weren’t even fishing to get the fish – half the time they just threw it back. “Be more aggressive.”
“I’m pretty sure fish scare away if you are aggressive, hyung.” Yoongi replies, still confused but also weirdly agitated.
“Then maybe it might be time to reconsider your bait, or consider how to move without scaring the fish, because if you take much longer the fish might decide to go for a different rod, after all.” he says with an amused emphasis on the words, which –
“You aren’t talking about fish, are you.” he says quietly, turning away to look out at the lake and ignoring the burning in his cheeks. He hadn’t thought he’s been so transparent, so obvious in his growing desperation, in the way his hands have been itching to touch , so wholly unlike himself that he had jumped at the chance of a day fishing trip with Seokjin – something normal, something that would make him feel like himself , instead of trying not to jump out of his skin at the need to press against Namjoon.
“...of course I am, what else would I be talking about.” Seokjin says cheerfully, but the pause is too long, the way he settles back in his little chair too satisfied. He’s aware that his point has been made and he sees no need to torture them further with a talk about emotions.
It makes Yoongi unwind the tension in his back. He doesn’t mind acting on his feelings, understands what makes people happy, what actions he can take to make someone feel good – but he doesn’t like having to talk about them before he’s ready. Before he’s examined what it means that he’s been obvious enough for Seokjin to feel the need to raise the topic.
“More aggressive, with better bait, huh.” he mulls that thought over in his head. He’s never truly considered making an obvious move simply because of the situation he and Namjoon are in – the last thing he wants is to make Namjoon feel obligated, to see him as another part of his duty to his country. He’s managed to become the person Namjoon depends on, leans on and he never wants to jeopardize the way Namjoon comes to him as a safe haven.
But Seokjin isn’t stupid – he’s not good at emotions in the way Hoseok isn’t good at them: he can recognize them, crystal clear and can spin out all the horror scenarios, which means he avoids being honest about them in any way he can – but you can only lie, if you know the truth. (The second Tae realises that about him, Seokjin is not going to have a chance and Yoongi is looking forward to that day. A lot. He’s not going to know what hit him)
“Worth thinking about, anyway.” Seokjin murmurs. “Even if that fish doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, there’s really no need to risk it slipping away from you.”
Yoongi just hums, settling back deeper in his chair. Maybe his hyung is right and a change in strategy is in order.
Year Six (2)
Namjoon storms into his room - wincing slightly at the way the door bangs into the wall, newly outfitted with the cherry wood Seokjin and Tae had been raving about for weeks – and throws himself onto his bed.
He’s feeling like being dramatic and he’s not going to let the guilty twinge at the possibility of a wood dent stop him. The lecture can be future-Namjoon’s problem – present-Namjoon needs to spend his energy burying his burning face into a pillow and indulge in some muffled screaming.
When he hears the door close gently, he knows that Jimin has followed him, as evidenced by the chuckle from the direction of the door, and the dip in the bed behind him a moment later. He refuses to look up though and instead wriggles some more in frustration, gritting his teeth.
“What’s the problem, hyungie, talk to me?” Jimin asks him - rhetorically, because he knows the problem, he just likes torturing Namjoon into saying it.
“There’s no problem.” he says, despite the fact that he just cancelled his very important meeting with Chancellor Bang to suffocate himself with a pillow. He can almost hear Jimin roll his eyes before he attaches himself, turning them to the side and forcing Namjoon into accepting a back hug.
Jungkook always tells him he should be able to get out of this, because he has much better reach ( your legs are so long, hyung, it just makes no sense that you never put them to good use) , but a) Jimin is very strong and b) Jungkook is a hypocrite anyway - it’s not like he’s ever successfully fended off one of Jimin’s attack cuddles and he’s got the reach and strength.
“Stop trying to convince yourself you don’t like to be the little spoon and talk to me, Namjoonie-hyung.” Jimin says into his ear, tightening his arms, “Otherwise I’ll have to employ drastic measures.”
“Oh and what are those supposed to be then.” Namjoon says absently, relaxing into the hold against his will. What can he say, Jimin gives the best hugs. And he’s just human.
“I’ll get Hobi-hyung in here and then we’ll both cuddle you and then it won't be long until Jungkookie finds us and pouts about “being left out” and he’ll jump on us and then what will you do?”
“Oh no, more cuddles,” Namjoon says sarcastically, but he can already feel the laughter bubbling up, the way it relaxes something in him.
“I know, my punishments are harsh but fair.” he says in a light voice. He shuffles up a bit once he is sure that Namjoon won't try to escape him and cards his fingers through his hair.
“Playing dirty.” Namjoon murmurs, because Jimin knows he can’t resist, can’t stop himself from going completely boneless, conditioned into this response by six years of late nights and a different set of hands petting him.
“Maybe so, but I believe the ends justify the means.” Jimin says sounding smug.
“And what ends are those supposed to be.” Namjoon asks his eyes already at half-mast.
“You and me talking about what the hell is going on with you and Yoongi-hyung.” Jimin says and Namjoon can’t help but tense up at that, which is as good a confirmation as Jimin was going to get. “Don’t even try to deny it.” he says anyway, his tone stern, while his hands continue the same soothing motion. Namjoon feels a bit like Jimin thinks he’s an easily spooked horse and while that’s vaguely insulting, the fact that he did consider possible escape routes for a moment proves that he’s not exactly wrong.
“I don’t know.” he says, frustrated and vulnerable.
“I don’t .” he emphasizes at the disbelieving sound Jimin makes, turning around in his arms without dislodging his hands, so he can look Jimin in the face, because he does need to talk about it and Jimin asked , “I don’t know and I don’t know what to do .”
He doesn’t know what happened but from one day to the next Yoongi had decided that he’s going to be a touchy person – but only with him . They’d always had a certain amount of affectionate gestures they used in public – they needed to be seen as private people, not as only married in name, after all, but they were all casual, lowkey and kept to a bare minimum.
But whatever got into Yoongi it makes him touch Namjoon constantly – a hand at the small of his back, on his thigh, touching his cheek when asked about their favourite morning ritual, slipping their fingers together, palm to palm, touching his neck, his sides and one memorable times his lips, whenever they go out in public.
It makes Namjoon go slightly insane, jumpy and nervous, a constant anxious pit in his stomach that leaves him flushed and breathless and unable to answer the easiest of questions.
And it doesn’t stop there, in the public eye. It’s not like they never touched when the eyes of the world weren’t on them, but not like that – not Yoongi finding him reading a book on the couch and wiggling in behind him, arranging them so his front is flush against Namjoon’s back, chin digging into his shoulder, reading along and telling him to turn the page, Joon-ah right into his ear with a gravelly tone to his voice.
It isn’t even only touching, it's other things too. Little compliments about his work, about his outfits, even once memorably about his bed-hair . Bringing him food when he’s on hour four of working through documents, which – granted – he’s done before, but never that regularly . Never with only his all-time favourite snacks. Never in a bento box with crabs on it .
Never coming to him after a state address, in the light of day, pulling him down and putting their foreheads together, saying You did great Joon-ah. Makes me proud to be your husband.
He spent half an hour hyperventilating in a bathroom stall he hastily evacuated into while at the same time trying to will down his half-erection, terrified of Jungkook breaking the door down, because you sound like you are dying Namjoon-hyung.
“Have you considered,” Jimin says, after he’s explained all of that, voice becoming more frantic with each word, amusement in his voice, because he’s a terrible friend, he’s having a crisis , it’s not amusing in the slightest, “that Yoongi-hyung might be courting you?”
He pulls back, incredulously, ready to shoot Jimin down, when he suddenly stops, his mind going a mile a minute – because as mad as that sounds (and it does, it does sound mad – they’ve known each other, been married to each other for 6 years, why would Yoongi suddenly decide that he wants this, wants him ) he can’t stop his brain from making connections.
He doesn’t want to because this is stupid, it’s crazy, but for some reason he can’t find any contradictions – Yoongi isn’t a man of many words, but he is someone who takes action, once he’s decided on something. He’s straight forward and good with emotions, knows what people need, what makes them happy. If Namjoon had ever thought about how Yoongi would court someone – and he tried to forbid himself from doing exactly that in the past, because torturing himself isn’t something he tries to do – this is exactly the sort of thing he’d do.
“No fucking way .” he says weakly, because it all makes a hilarious amount of sense, while not making sense at all . Jimin giggles at that, kissing his forehead and whispering a location in his skin.
“What the fuck, Yoongi-hyung.” a litany he says under his breath when he gets out of bed and moving towards the place Jimin had told him.
“What the fuck, Yoongi-hyung.” he shouts when he sees him sitting in front of his piano and he should be outraged at the smirk Yoongi has on his face, but instead he’s fond and elated and so, so happy.
Can’t quite believe it when Yoongi doesn’t move away from him when he’s dropping to his knees in front of the piano bench he’s straddling, leans into his hands when he cups his cheeks. Yoongi’s lips against his don’t even feel real for the first seconds, he’s imagined them so many times. He doesn’t even have the presence of mind to be embarrassed at the desperate sound he lets out, when Yoongi mirrors him, strong, long fingers on the side of his face, the angle giving him control of the kiss.
“You could have just told me.” he says, biting Yoongi’s pretty mouth, the way he’s been dreaming for years.
Yoongi just hums, before sliding one hand into his hair, pulling his head back and smiling in satisfaction at the whine it produces. “Could have, but it was more fun this way.”
Before Namjoon can complain about that, because it wasn’t fun , he’d been dying the last two weeks. “Anyway I knew you’d figure it out. My smart Namjoon-ah.” he continues, sounding so fond, sounding in love .
He’ll complain later about his back being bruised after Namjoon tackles him off the piano bench, about him wiping snot on his favourite T-shirt. But in Namjoon’s book he definitely deserves it.
Year Seven and counting
“I still can’t believe you decided that you needed to court me six years into our marriage.” Namjoon says conversationally, honestly proud of himself for being able to form sentences again.
He’s still not really feeling his legs, but he doesn’t need them for now – Yoongi promised to take care of him for their anniversary ( sexiversary as Seokjin keeps calling it, which is wrong on so many levels, but does bring a very fetching blush to Yoongi’s face, which means Namjoon can forgive him the embarrassment), which hopefully means bringing him water after he fucked his brains out.
“It seemed like a good strategy.” Yoongi says, ambling back into the room holding both a water bottle and chocolate. It makes Namjoon beam, because best husband of all time .
Which he obviously said out loud, because Yoongi smirks “You are so easy, Joon-ah, maybe I really didn’t need to put in that much effort.”
“Oh you definitely didn’t need to.” he replies, making little grabby hands and sinking into the bed with a sigh once Yoongi settles in along his side. “Why did you?” He asks it casually, but honestly it has been nagging at him for a while, curiosity making him turn it over in his head again and again.
Yoongi falls silent so he turns to him, to see him biting his lips a nervous habit that Namjoon isn’t sure he’s picked up from him or the other way around or that they maybe developed together.
“Were you afraid I wasn’t going to say yes?” he asks, even though that seems silly – he doesn’t have any illusions about his ability to obfuscate effectively.
“Partly.” Yoongi says, which is honestly a shock.
“And the other part?” he asks, because at this point he’s well aware of Yoongi techniques of distraction and they are not going to work on him.
“I just thought, you know, you deserved it.” he finally says, looking at the wall, face turned away.
“What do you mean?”
Yoongi makes a frustrated sound in his throat. “With the way we got married, we never got that - A courting period. A time where I could make you feel special, show you that I payed attention to you. What you need. What you like.” He turns back to him, eyes open and honest and simply devastating. “And I thought you deserved to have that. From me.”
And really Namjoon can’t be blamed for having to kiss him right then for that, even if that means they fall off the bed and Yoongi complains about his ass being bruised on camera for three straight weeks.