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Yoongi holds Namjoon’s hand tight despite his protests.
“But I’m so sweaty hyung,” Namjoon says, shoulders hunched up the way they get when he’s feeling embarrassed. He isn’t wrong. His hand in Yoongi’s has somehow contrived not only to be sweaty but to be clammy too, on one of the hottest days they’ve had in the summer so far. Yoongi holds tight regardless. Holding Namjoon’s hand is one of his favourite things in the world. He's more than happy to put up with a little sweat for the privilege of doing it.
“So?” Yoongi asks, swinging their clasped hands between them as they walk down the sun-dappled path. “I’m sweaty too. Everyone is sweaty today.”
“Not as sweaty as me,” Namjoon grumbles glumly, kicking at a rock to emphasize his point.
It’s probably true. Namjoon’s once-flowing white shirt clings in places to his chest and back, while the fringe of his hair sits against his forehead and neck in damp clumps. Every visible inch of his warm, gold skin seems to glisten with a faint sheet of sweat. Some sweat even beads at his temples, biding its time before it will run down his cheek and neck.
That isn’t to say Yoongi isn’t sweating — he can feel it, in the way his shirt and pants and hair are starting to stick to him unpleasantly — but compared to what Namjoon is experiencing Yoongi is practically dry.
“I still don’t mind,” he says, shrugging carelessly. “And anyways, you were a lot sweatier this morning, when I had your-”
“Hyung!” hisses Namjoon. Yoongi watches with immense satisfaction as he glances over his shoulder, the tops of his cheeks flushed a deep pink. “We’re in public!”
Yoongi affects an innocent expression. It’s hard to hide his laughter. “Oh are we?” he asks, trying to keep his voice as blandly innocent as his expression. “I hadn’t noticed.”
Something in his tone must tip Namjoon off to Yoongi’s plans regardless, because he’s saying, oh no and covering his face before Yoongi can say, “Guess I just stopped noticing everything except your eyes,” overtop of Namjoon’s protests of please don’t. He thinks he was pretty nice about it, all things considered. He could have said it a lot louder.
“Oh my God,” Namjoon says, bringing his arm up higher so he can hide his face in the crook of his elbow. Yoongi thinks he can hear a small smile. “Oh my God hyung you are not helping!”
“Who says I was trying to help?” Yoongi asks, and follows it up with some absolutely shameless batting of his eyelashes. Namjoon might have his eyes covered but there’s no way he’d be navigating the narrow, uneven trail they’re on without tripping with his eyes closed. He knows Namjoon is still looking, and he’s going to take full advantage of that fact.
Namjoon doesn’t quite break into helpless laughter, but he does groan and tuck his face into Yoongi’s shoulder as best he can while they’re walking so Yoongi calls it a win. It’s an awkward way to walk, with Namjoon having to hunch due to his extra height, but apparently not so awkward that Namjoon wants to stand back up quickly. That’s fine by Yoongi. The move brings Namjoon’s hair into perfect ruffling range, and that’s exactly what Yoongi does.
He regrets it almost immediately. He loves Namjoon, he really does, but Namjoon’s hair is so sweaty Yoongi wishes he had somewhere to rinse off his hand. There are even a few hairs stuck to it he notices as he moves to wipe it off on his white pants. He keeps a grimace off his face. Namjoon is already feeling self conscious about the sweat. Yoongi doesn’t want to make it worse.
They’re following a familiar, well travelled sun-dappled path, one that leads from the edge of their property to one of the more well-travelled hiking paths that can take interested parties all the way to the summit of the nearby mountain. Yoongi has hiked the full length, although never without Namjoon, and never without Namjoon being the one to suggest it in the first place.
They aren’t going all the way up the mountain today thankfully, but in this heat even the short hike to the pretty creek, and the equally pretty footbridge that spans it, feels impossibly far.
It might not have been so bad if it wasn’t for their entourage.
Trailing along behind them at a far enough distance Yoongi has been almost able to successfully forget they’re there is a photographer, carrying a camera that looks like something out of a science fiction movie, a director, an interviewer, a person whose sole purpose seems to be arranging reflective panels to make sure the lighting is just right, a makeup artist, and someone with a handheld video camera who claims to be shooting some behind-the-scenes footage but mostly seems to be trying (and failing) to flirt with the makeup artist.
They belong to a lifestyle magazine, one that still produces a print edition in addition to their web offerings according to Yoongi’s agent, and were apparently determined to do a profile on World Famous Author Kim Namjoon and his Less Famous Architect-and-Children’s-Book-Author Partner Min Yoongi. It’ll be good publicity for your new books, Yoongi’s agent had said, as if Namjoon’s books needed any help selling, and as if Yoongi cared about how well his books (they’re kids books he wrote in his spare time for fun) sold at all.
Then Namjoon had gone and said I know you like setting an example of the neighbourhood kids, don’t you think it would be cool if we could be an example for a nation of kids with his eyes big, and dark, and hopeful, and Yoongi had been helpless in the face of it.
He just wishes that setting an example for a nation of kids didn’t involve things like dressing up in ridiculous looking white clothing, with collars that itched, in the middle of a heatwave so someone could point a camera at him for eternity, that’s all. He feels like maybe they could have been examples without that part.
“Ah, if you could just stop there for a second please,” the director says, pulling Yoongi out of his thoughts. “The framing here is so lovely, why don’t we get a few shots of-”
The rest of her words are lost to the sound of Namjoon sighing, long and blustery, as he slows to a stop. Yoongi frowns. So far today they’ve done pictures of themselves up in their garden, which is flourishing beautifully, and perched on their fence, and by some trees at the end of their property, as well as a filmed interview on their back patio and a tour of Namjoon’s studio and Yoongi’s workshop. It’s a lot, especially in this heat, and Yoongi isn’t thrilled by the idea of stopping for just a few extra shots, but he’s far from being tired enough he’d let that show.
It’s weird, to see Namjoon’s frustration so plainly in the set of his jaw, and the line of his shoulders, and the way he’s got his head tipped back with his eyes closed. It’s a far cry from the unflappable air Namjoon usually cultivates for interviews, and award shows, and following instructions barked at them by directors so that someone can get a better picture. Usually Yoongi is the one who runs out of patience first, and grumbles, and gripes, and sighs, until Namjoon is there with his arm slung around Yoongi’s shoulders and a wry comment whispered in his ear.
To have their roles reversed is always a touch disconcerting, but it’s happened often enough that Yoongi has an idea of what to do. If it was cooler he’d press himself against Namjoon’s side, ground him with an arm wound around his waist, but it isn’t cooler. Yoongi decides to go for Plan B.
Namjoon’s eyes snap open as Yoongi deliberately shifts the position of their hands, raising them so they’re they’re chest height, Namjoon’s hand on top. Their palms stick a bit at the motion, and Namjoon grimaces. “I told you hyung-”
“And I told you I didn’t care how sweaty you are,” Yoongi says, using his best don’t question your hyung voice. He uses his free hand to draw a mindless pattern on the back of Namjoon’s. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Namjoon swallow, his adam’s apple bobbing. Wherever his mind had gone before it’s definitely starting to come back now. “I want to hold your hand, so I will.”
There’s a sharp intake of breath, and a pause, and then Namjoon sighs again. This sigh is different. This sigh has a smile tucked away in the corner of his mouth, even if it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Some of the tension bleeds out of him. Yoongi squeezes the hand he’s holding and smiles back. It’s a start.
Over Namjoon’s shoulder he can see the magazine crew have grouped up, huddling together like the children of the village do when they’re conspiring and don’t want the adults to know what they’re up to. They’re probably plotting more schemes for trying to get Namjoon and Yoongi to look natural while posed in ways that are definitely not. Quite a few of the huddles in the afternoon have ended with some incredibly specific instructions for positioning. Yoongi squints at them, as if that will help him hear better.
It doesn’t. All he can make out is vague comments about backlit and framing, which is far less interesting than Namjoon’s hand, still in Yoongi’s, and the way Namjoon’s breathing seems to have deepened the longer Yoongi traces patterns over the back of it. He decides to switch things up, starting to outline Namjoon’s fingers, letting his nails catch lightly on Namjoon’s rings. Namjoon bites his lip. Yoongi tries not to feel too pleased with himself and does it again.
Namjoon’s apparently pulled out all the stops for this interview, ring-wise. His hand practically sparkles, with a set of thin silver ones on his thumb, a twined set on his ring finger, and one set with a large blue stone on his index. Yoongi can’t help but smile when he sees it, every time.
The ring had caught his eye one day in the market of a town whose name he’s long since forgotten during their time in England. He’d bought it for no other reason than that Namjoon might like it. Namjoon had retaliated by buying Yoongi a matching pendant a few weeks later, unprompted, gifting it with the same thought you might like it language Yoongi had used when he was giving over his. Yoongi wishes he’d worn the pendant now, even if it would have looked a bit silly with the shirt he’s wearing. He likes the way Namjoon’s eyes light up when he sees it, and the way he smiles so wide his dimples get dimples.
Yoongi lets his fingers trace around Namjoon’s hand another time, delighting privately in the way it makes Namjoon shiver and sway in the heat. He suspects it’s ticklish, but Namjoon hasn’t asked him to stop and the clump of magazine employees are still huddled together. He’s happy to keep this up as long as Namjoon will let him, listening to the humming of insects, and the warble of birds, and Namjoon’s occasionally-hitching breath.
“How long do you think before Jungkook eats all our food?” Namjoon asks eventually.
Yoongi snorts. “Please. Between him, and hyung, and Jimin’s weakness for Spot, I’ll be surprised if there’s any food left in the house at all by the time we’re done.”
When Namjoon laughs this time it reaches his eyes, making them scrunch up. Yoongi stops tracing momentarily. He could spend hours watching watching Namjoon laugh. “They’re going to complain we’re starving them.”
“Then they should have arrived at the time we agreed on,” Yoongi recovers, grumbling without any heat. He flips Namjoon’s hand over so he can trace the lines on his (damp, sweaty) palm. Namjoon doesn’t protest. Yoongi nods to himself once. “They’re here several hours early. They can wait.”
He loves their friends, but that doesn’t mean he’d been glad to see them pull up in their hired car only a few minutes after the magazine people arrived. He’d been hoping they’d be long gone, and the makeup long washed off his face, by the time their friends showed up for their barbeque. In fact, he’d specifically scheduled things so they wouldn’t run into this situation. Now their evening will be filled with people asking, what are you, big shots or something? in teasing, but still annoying, tones.
He sighs, dropping their hands a little between them so he can lean his forehead on Namjoon’s shoulder. “How did they even find out this was happening?” It’s a rhetorical question, more a whine than anything else, but he can feel the way Namjoon stills underneath him. The air around them takes on the quality of guilt. Yoongi doesn’t have to lean back to know what expression is on Namjoon’s face.
“Oh,” he says, standing up again so he can make eye contact. “Oh, Kim Namjoon. You didn’t.”
Namjoon swallows hard and looks down. Yoongi is briefly distracted by the way his eyelashes look against the skin on his cheek, and almost misses the first few words Namjoon says. “It was Jimin’s fault.” His tone is defensive, and he tries to pull his hand away from Yoongi. Yoongi tightens his grip, sweaty though it is. “Jimin called to double check what they were supposed to bring, and we got to talking, and then he asked what we were starting it so late for anyways, and-”
“And you’ve never successfully lied to Jimin in your life,” Yoongi finishes for him. It makes Namjoon blush. Yoongi doesn’t bother to hide his fond smile.
“It’s not my fault he’s basically a human lie detector,” Namjoon pouts, still looking down at their hands. It’s a cute pout. Yoongi considers kissing it, but Namjoon apparently has more to say. “And I mean, I managed not to tell him exactly what it was? But, well…” He shrugs. It’s a cute shrug. “You know Jimin. He probably figured that worse case scenario they’d have to kill some time in town, and they love that little restaurant on the river.”
“They do love that little restaurant,” Yoongi agrees. Namjoon’s still looking uneasy, so he hastens to add, “And I know it isn’t your fault. I’m not really upset. Park Jimin is a law unto himself, and if I’m upset with anyone it’s him. He should know better than to show up early.”
Namjoon kisses his forehead. It sends a thrill through Yoongi, comfortable, as familiar as the back of Namjoon’s hand. “He should. At least it meant we had someone to look after Spot?”
Yoongi winces. “Yes. Yes, that is definitely a plus.”
When making their plans to have the interview and photoshoot out at Namjoon and Yoongi’s house what no one had expected was for Spot to be quite so territorial. He’d always been very friendly with new people, but apparently the camera equipment and lights had been a step too far. He had not liked it at all, and expressed his dislike loudly, frequently, and insistently.
Yoongi doesn’t want to think about what it might have been like to try and do their interview with Spot barking anxiously from inside the house.
To judge by Namjoon’s expression he agrees. “God. Can you imagine.”
“Yeah,” Yoongi laughs, drawing Namjoon’s hand to his mouth to plant a kiss on his knuckles. “A nightmare.”
He lets their hands drop between them again, his fingers drifting to fiddle with Namjoon’s rings once more. Namjoon’s eyes don’t drop to their hands this time. He watches Yoongi with an intent expression, a hybrid of focused and pensive that’s slipping back toward that slightly distracted expression he’s been wearing most of the afternoon.
Yoongi stares right back. It’s been a long time since he’s found it this difficult to figure out what Namjoon is thinking. He lets his eyes flit around Namjoon’s expression, taking in the furrow of his eyebrows, the thin press of his lips, the way his eyes have narrowed slightly. Whatever he’s thinking about it certainly isn’t the heat, or the photoshoot, and probably has to do with Yoongi, but beyond that…
Yoongi refuses to feel relief when the director interrupts their staring contest. He’s made no headway at all. “We’re going to get ahead of you, and then you start walking toward us, okay?” The photographer is already slipping past them as the director speaks, the rest of the crew following close on his heels. They’re all wearing sensible shoes at least, letting them move quickly up the path while the director explains things like don’t walk too fast and give a variety of expressions as if they haven’t been doing this all day.
“And remember, you’re having a conversation, having fun, enjoying each other’s company!”
They’ve been given that instruction so often Yoongi suspects he could repeat it perfectly, down to the smallest inflection. Namjoon barks a laugh at the same time Yoongi rolls his eyes.
“Perfect!” the photographer says from behind his camera. Yoongi hears the shutter click. “Exactly like that. Excellent. Now walk.”
They walk, pausing every so often so that the photographer can reset. Around them the heat of the day presses in, making the sounds of the forest around them that much more present. In the distance he can hear a cicada revving up for a good long scream, and knows that soon, under everything, they’ll start to hear the low rush of the creek, and the burble it makes as it passes under the footbridge. Soon, it will be over.
“Conversation!” the photographer reminds them after a minute. “Or at least look at each other!”
“He could at least say please,” Yoongi sighs, ignoring the rebellious part of him that doesn’t want to follow the instruction specifically because it is an instruction, not a suggestion. He shouldn’t mind at all, because the instruction is talk to Namjoon. He likes talking to Namjoon. He’s spent literal years of his life talking to Namjoon. He wonders if that’s why he’s finding it so hard to think of anything to say, or if maybe it has more to do with the large camera lens pointed at them.
“Why is it that whenever someone tells me to have a conversation I seem to completely forget how?” Namjoon asks, low enough that his voice won’t carry past Yoongi’s ears. Yoongi stifles a laugh and looks up at him. Namjoon is wearing a rueful smirk, his eyes scrunched up at the corners in a way that makes Yoongi’s heart jump.
He finds himself grinning back. “Pressure getting to you?”
Namjoon snorts. “Pressure? Please. I gave lectures at Oxford. I’ve done more interviews than I can count. I’ve met the president. Nothing can phase me now.”
“Nothing?” Yoongi asks, keeping his tone light and innocent. Namjoon seems like he might be a bit more responsive to teasing now and that isn’t something Yoongi wants to pass up, not when he’s been given such a good opening.
Namjoon realizes his mistake before Yoongi can take advantage of the situation. His eyes go wide, with just a hint of worry, and flick between Yoongi’s completely innocent expression and the camera. He lets go of Yoongi’s hand. Yoongi would be annoyed by that except that Namjoon slings his arm around Yoongi’s shoulders, pulling him close as he says, “Hyung, I would really, really appreciate it if you please didn’t start doing any experiments to find out what could phase me right now, please, please, please.”
Yoongi leans into Namjoon’s side despite the heat and clicks his teeth in fake disappointment. “You take all the fun out of things, Joon-ah. Hyung was just teasing.”
“Yes well hyung is very good at teasing, and sometimes hyung is not teasing at all, and it can be really hard to tell the difference.” Namjoon’s expression is petulant and Yoongi is helpless in the face of it. He has to laugh, which makes Namjoon’s mouth twist up into a reluctant smile. Ahead of them, Yoongi hears the shutter click a few times. He wonders how the picture turned out. He wonders if they might give him a copy.
“I love you,” he says, which is a bit of a non sequitur, but he does, and now that he’s thought it he can’t see a reason not to tell Namjoon.
“I love you too,” Namjoon says, automatic and sincere, and as if to emphasize his point he tightens his arm around Yoongi’s shoulder. “A lot.”
It makes Yoongi’s chest go tight and warm, and he has to duck his head. He finds himself at a momentary loss of words, which is strange. Over the ten years they’ve been together they’ve had countless exchanges that follow almost this exact script. There’s no reason this one should be any different, no reason it should be affecting him at all, and yet he’s so distracted he trips over a very obvious tree root poking up through the path. Only Namjoon’s arm around him keeps him from stumbling.
“Aaah hyung watch where you’re walking!” Namjoon admonishes. He’s smiling so wide Yoongi can hear it, doesn’t need to turn and look to know it’s there. “Or did you forget which of us is the clumsy one?”
“You think you’re so funny, don’t you,” Yoongi mutters.
He can feel Namjoon’s smile grow. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
Yoongi sighs, and rolls his eyes, and soaks in the giggle Namjoon tucks into his hair. For a brief moment it’s just the two of them on the path, wrapped up in each other, and in love, and then the illusion is shattered as the director says, “Ah, yes, this really is a lovely spot. Thanks for scouting it, Mija.”
The bridge is one of Yoongi’s favourite spots on the planet, right up there with his workshop, and his bed, and just under being wrapped in Namjoon’s arms. It looks like something that belongs in a picture book, not in the real world, with its gentle arch and delicately wrought railing. On the upstream side is a small pool, which the neighbourhood kids and Spot like to use for wading. On the downstream side is a series of small waterfalls, each no more than a few inches high, over which the water flashes and dances.
Yoongi breathes deeply, as if the air here is somehow clearer, more pure than the air by their house. He can hear the magazine crew doing it too and doesn’t bother to suppress his grin when he hears the telltale rustle of a breeze in the distance. A breeze winding through the trees always makes the green-gold light dance, the sight absolutely enchanting.
This particular breeze doesn’t disappoint. There’s a second round of sighs from the production crew, and it’s almost enough for Yoongi to forget how hot he is.
Almost.
He ducks out from Namjoon’s shoulder and steps carefully over to the bank of the creek, squatting so he can dunk his hands in the clear water. It’s almost shockingly cold against his hands, and then, as he leans forward a bit more, his forearms. It’s certainly making him feel cooler. After a few seconds he raises one hand and lets some of the water trickle down the back of his neck. It feels delicious, an icy-cold finger trailing down his spine in a way that makes him shiver.
When he’s done he feels a lot more human, and suspected that it would make Namjoon feel a lot more human too. He’s actually a bit surprised Namjoon didn’t just follow him, as soon as he saw what Yoongi was up to. Namjoon is usually quick to jump on anything that looks like a good idea.
Yoongi looks around, wondering if maybe Namjoon got roped into a discussion with someone, or distracted staring at the trees. It turns out that Namjoon isn’t talking, or staring at the trees. He’s staring at Yoongi. Well, technically he’s staring at Yoongi, but he’s wearing that look again like his mind has slipped away from the here and now again.
Standing, Yoongi walks over and puts his now-cold hands on Namjoon’s neck. It says something about how far away Namjoon’s thoughts are that he doesn’t even flinch until Yoongi makes skin to skin contact.
“You good?” Yoongi asks, massaging Namjoon’s neck lightly as Namjoon leans into the touch.
“Hmm?”
“You were off in your own world.” Yoongi pushes a bit harder. Namjoon lets out a grateful moan. “Just checking in.”
There’s something about Namjoon’s eyes, something that looks a little like Spot does, when Yoongi finds him trying to steal food off the table, something caught. What Namjoon might be thinking about that he feels caught now is a mystery to Yoongi and it will have to stay that way. He’s not about to start that conversation while they have an audience, so when Namjoon lies and says “‘s the heat” Yoongi doesn’t call him on it.
“If the two of you could go stand on the bridge please?” the director asks, as unfailingly polite as she has been all afternoon. “We’re ready to get started.”
They stand on the bridge by the railing, pausing first so their makeup can get touched up, and try out a few different positions until both the director and the photographer are happy. The result is Namjoon’s arms bracketing Yoongi in a way that is definitely uncomfortably hot from a heat perspective, but would probably also be hot from a sex perspective if it weren’t for the group of people looking them over with a clinical eye. Yoongi takes a deep breath and files the thought away for later. Time already feels like it’s dragging. He doesn’t need to make it worse.
The photographer stops after only two shots and starts to fiddle with his camera. “I’ll just be a second,” he says, holding up his hand when Namjoon starts to shift away from Yoongi, “Stay where you are, I’ll be fast, I swear.”
Yoongi tries to get him to work faster through will power alone but it proves completely ineffective. He shifts his weight from foot to foot impatiently. They were so close to being done, so of course the universe had to present them with another delay.
He’s so busy glaring at the photographer who is single handedly keeping him from going back to his house, and his dog, and his barbeque, and his ice-cold beer that when Namjoon whispers, “Look, hyung,” in his ear he jumps, smacking his head right into the point of Namjoon’s chin.
“Ow!” Yoongi yelps, rubbing at the spot just above his ear.
“Sorry,” Namjoon says, kissing it quickly, catching the edge of Yoongi’s finger along with the shell of Yoongi’s ear. It makes Yoongi feel shivery all over. “Sorry, sorry, but look hyung!”
Yoongi knows without looking that Namjoon is pointing at a toad. More than that, Yoongi knows that it’s the grey, bumpy, and massive toad that Namjoon has christened Toadtoro because he’s big and grey and lives in the forest like Totoro, only he’s a toad. Get it, hyung?
For once it hadn’t been Spot who’d spotted (ha!) the critter — Namjoon had seen it first, lurking in the water while Spot was distracted barking at something small and furry practicing a strategic retreat. Every subsequent time they’d visited the pond Namjoon had looked for Toadtoro (or at least, for a large grey toad. Yoongi isn’t convinced that it’s the same toad every time), and every subsequent visit he said look, hyung! in that exact tone.
“Toadtoro’s going to be in the picture?” Yoongi guesses, leaning over the railing to follow the line of Namjoon’s very enthusiastic pointing.
“Toadtoro’s going to be in the picture!” Namjoon agrees.
Toadtoro is lurking in his favourite shady spot, tucked up beside the bank of the first waterfall. With the angle the photographer is shooting them at there’s a chance Toadtoro will make it in the frame, but probably as nothing more than a darker spot in the shadows, or else maybe a faint gleam of light if the wind ruffles the trees just right.
Yoongi does not say this out loud. Namjoon’s smile is bright, and Yoongi feels better just for seeing it. He wonders if the photographer has figured out the settings he needs to change in time to capture this smile, and is just turning to check when Namjoon says, “Oh! And a lizard!” and Yoongi finds his eyes turning helplessly to where Namjoon is pointing again.
He hears the click of a shutter closing and makes a mental note. This is another picture he’d be interested in getting a copy of.
The shutter clicks shut a few more times while Namjoon tries to identify the lizard. Yoongi feels like his chest is about to turn itself inside out from fondness. Namjoon has very clearly forgotten that they’re supposed to be having their picture taken. It’s incredibly endearing. Yoongi can’t find it in himself to be annoyed, not even if this is delaying their return to the house.
“Namjoon-ssi, if you could please look at the camera?” the director asks at last.
“What?” Namjoon asks, elegant as always.
“Look at the camera,” Yoongi repeats, raising a hand to gently push at Namjoon’s jaw until he’s facing the right way again. “Don’t want to disappoint your adoring public.”
“You’re an adoring public,” Namjoon mutters nonsensically, wrinkling his nose as he gets back into position.
This time Yoongi can’t ignore his impulse and he’s up on his toes, kissing Namjoon’s nose before he can think twice. It makes Namjoon wrinkle his nose further, but it also makes him laugh. Yoongi grins in response. “And don’t you forget it.”
“The camera, please?” the director reminds them, endlessly patient.
“Yeah, yeah,” Namjoon sighs, but Yoongi can see the smile dancing in the corners of his mouth. “The camera.”
They get what feels like a grand total of three more shots done before Yoongi hears voices approaching from the far side of the bridge. Namjoon hears them too, saying, “Oh no,” against Yoongi’s neck.
It could be worse, Yoongi reasons, as two adults and two children come into view. It’s their neighbour Eunsook, and her son Soobin and one of Soobin’s friends Yoongi thinks is called Beomgyu. It could have been Chunsa, the town’s busybody, or Yunjong, who is lovely, but really loves to talk. At least with their neighbours there’s a good chance they’ll be able to keep the conversation short without appearing too rude.
“Uncle Namjoon!” Soobin yells as soon as he catches sight of them “Uncle Yoongi! Look! Look at the fish I caught!”
Completely oblivious to the magazine crew and the fact that he might be interrupting something Soobin sprints forward, brandishing a plastic bag. He skids to a stop in front of them, opening the bag to reveal a fish almost as long as his arm. If Yoongi could catch a fish half that size later, when Seokjin inevitably says So Yoongichi, you give those fishing poles you have an airing lately?, he’d be happy. Seokjin has never caught anything close to this big, for all he insists on going fishing every time he visits as long as it isn’t rainy or cold.
“Wah, Soobin!” Namjoon says, hunkering down so he’s at Soobin’s eye level. “Look how big it is!”
“We’re going to eat it for dinner!” Soobin says proudly, “And the one Beomgyu caught.” He waves Beomgyu forward encouragingly so he can show off too. Beomgyu looks a lot less sure of the situation, shyness and pride at war on his face. His family is a recent addition to their community, having moved there only a few months ago. Yoongi makes a mental note to remember to invite them over for dinner. “See how big it is?” Soobin prompts, when it becomes clear Beomgyu isn’t going to.
Namjoon and Yoongi both agree that it’s impressively big, and pride starts to win out on Beomgyu’s face.
“Mom’s going to show us how to clean them, and she said dad’s going to show us how to grill them,” Soobin continues, speaking so quickly his words seem to tumble out of his mouth. “And my Auntie who’s visiting said she’d make us cake for dessert!”
“Sounds delicious,” Namjoon says, smiling the smile Yoongi only ever seems to see around the neighbourhood kids. Watching Namjoon work with them is its own special kind of joy
“It does!” Soobin says, nodding enthusiastically. “Do you want to come for dinner too?”
Namjoon’s mouth twitches the way it does when he’s trying hard not to laugh. Yoongi manages to turn his laugh into a cough.
“Ah, Soobin!” Eunsook says, arriving just in time to hear Soobin extending the invitation. “What have we told you?”
“Always ask before inviting someone over,” Soobin rattles off. It’s a lesson he’s obviously learned by rote, not one that he’s taken to heart. “But we have Uncle Namjoon and Uncle Yoongi over for dinner lots!”
Yoongi glances back to Eunsook, expecting her to have something to say to that, but Eunsook isn’t looking at them anymore. Her attention is focused on the huddle of people beyond the bridge, watching the scene unfold as if watching a drama on television. Their expressions range from carefully neutral to definitely amused. Yoongi is suddenly conscious of the makeup on his face, and the white clothing he wouldn’t usually be caught dead in. He starts to blush, the blush deepening as Eunsook turns back to them, one eyebrow raised, and asks, “Well then boys, what’s all this? Doesn’t look much like the usual hooligans you call friends.”
Their neighbours are well acquainted with their friends. Namjoon and Yoongi have them out as often as possible, and truth be told they’ve become a tad infamous. Jungkook and Seokjin started what became known as the Great Snow Wars one year over the winter break. Taehyung and Jungkook had taught the kids how to rig a rope swing over the pond where they liked to swim. The nickname hooligans had started when Jimin and Hoseok had somehow ended up leading the entirety of the town’s children screaming down mainstreet, all furiously peddling their bikes, in pursuit of… something. No one had ever figured out what.
Yoongi might have worked harder to correct the hooligan impression except that he could see his neighbours’ fondness for him and Namjoon extending to their friends as well. Hooligans was said with raised eyebrows and quirked smiles and suppressed laughter, not to mention that all the children loved them. If Soobin found out Uncle Seokjin was visiting not even his own mother would be able to keep him from inviting himself over for dinner.
“I don’t suppose we can pretend you never saw them?” Yoongi asks, feigning hope.
Eunsook grins. “Don’t try and weasel out of answering, Yoongi.”
“But I’m so good at it,” Yoongi pouts, because he knows it’ll get a laugh, and because he knows it means that Namjoon will know Yoongi really doesn’t want to answer it himself. They’ve talked before about how awkward Yoongi feels that now people want to take his picture too, not just Namjoon’s.
“They’re photographers from a magazine,” Namjoon says, sending Yoongi a reassuring smile. Yoongi loves him so much. “Hyung and I both have books coming out soon, and they want to do a write-up about us.”
“A write up?” Eunsook says, her grin turning predatory. “Well Namjoon, you’ll have to let us know which one so Shinsoo can order enough in for the shop. You know how he hates it when he doesn’t have enough supply to meet the demands of the community.”
Yoongi appreciates how supportive their community, he reminds himself. He really does.
“And you aren’t allowed to buy up every copy,” Eunsook adds, tapping him lightly in the chest.
It makes Namjoon laugh as he stands from his crouch. “You know hyung too well.”
“You do,” Yoongi says, rubbing at his chest as if hurt.
Eunsook winks at him. “I guess we should let you get back to that then, eh Misters Hotshot Authors?”
Yoongi has to resist the urge to yell off the side of the bridge with how uncomfortable he is. This is somehow worse than taking the pictures.
“It was nice seeing you,” Namjoon says, because he’s nothing if not unfailingly polite. He ducks his head too, prompting Yoongi to follow suit. “We hope you enjoy your dinner.”
"Bye Uncle Yoongi, Uncle Namjoon!" Soobin says, and then he points his finger in the air. Namjoon grins and bends down so Soobin can poke his dimple, then reaches out and pokes the dimple on Soobin’s cheek. It's something they started within their third meeting, and it’s only grown more cute with time.
With a final wave the group is off across the river, and Yoongi and Namjoon find themselves arranged so that they're leaning on the railing for the bridge again but differently this time. Yoongi fights the itch to ask someone what time it is, having left his phone up at the house lest he ruin the line of his pants. Every time he thinks they're almost done there's another click of the shutter. It would be unbearable, except that for the fact that Namjoon has taken advantage of their most recent position change to slip his thumb up under Yoongi's shirt, smoothing the line of skin just above Yoongi's pants.
When the director finally says, "I think we're good," Yoongi almost thinks he misheard.
"Did she say we're good?" he asks, for Namjoon's ears only. Namjoon, leaning on a rock in a way that puts his head at chest height on Yoongi, looks up at him and nods.
Yoongi doesn't care who their audience is — he sags against Namjoon and says, "Oh thank God," into Namjoon's neck.
Namjoon laughs, the hand he'd had under Yoongi's shirt sliding around Yoongi's waist as he pulls Yoongi in closer. "Enough fame for one day?"
"Enough fame for a lifetime," Yoongi says, pressing a kiss to Namjoon's cheek. "Back up to the house?" He can hear the sounds of the crew shifting their gear around, picking things up and asking other people if they need a hand.
The million-miles-away look is back on Namjoon’s face, as opaque as before. Yoongi still doesn't think anything is wrong exactly, he's sure he'd be able to tell if something was wrong, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.
"Yeah, okay." It's agreement, but it doesn't feel entirely sincere. Yoongi pulls back a bit further, to take in more of Namjoon's expression, but Namjoon isn't looking at him. He's pushing himself off from the rock, standing, getting ready to leave and definitely preoccupied. Yoongi reaches for his hand, gratified with the way Namjoon's fingers twine instinctively with his own, slightly concerned that Namjoon doesn't put up even a token protest about how sweaty he is.
The interviewer walks along with them on the way back, now that the photographer has decided they're done, and they keep up a pleasant conversation about her girlfriend, and her dog, and how they were lucky that they had an afternoon without rain.
Or, more specifically, Yoongi keeps up a pleasant conversation. Namjoon makes the occasional noise of agreement, or polite interest, at the appropriate spot for those sorts of things, but it's clear even to the interviewer that his mind is elsewhere. Yoongi is determined not to worry about it.
There's a lull in the conversation, and before Yoongi can think of something smalltalk sounding to carry on with the director has called the interviewer away. Yoongi tries not to let his relief show too plainly. It's nice to meet new people, but sometimes it's nicer still to walk hand in hand with Namjoon down a familiar path.
They're still a minute or two away from the edge of their property when Namjoon says, "Ah!" and starts limping on his left foot. The members of the magazine crew pause too, looking at him with concern. "Just a stone in my shoe," Namjoon lies, poorly, letting go of Yoongi's hand so he can hobble to the side of the path and brace himself against a tree. "You guys go on ahead, we'll catch up."
Yoongi bites the inside of his cheek as the various members of the magazine crew ask if he’s sure. “Yes, yes I’m sure,” Namjoon repeats, and that at least isn’t a lie. He’s being unsubtle enough about wanting time alone with Yoongi that Yoongi suspects even Soobin would pick up on it. The magazine crew thankfully clue in much faster and agree to meet them up at the house. Yoongi isn’t sure he likes the idea of their friends and the magazine crew being allowed to interact unsupervised but he certainly won’t mention that while they’re in earshot.
The magazine crew disappear down the trail. Namjoon and Yoongi stand in silence for ten seconds, then twenty, before Yoongi sighs and shakes his head. "For someone who has a rock in their shoe you really seem to care about getting it out."
"You remember how earlier today we were doing those pictures up by the garden?" Namjoon blurts out, his face flushed. It has nothing to do with rocks in his shoe, or lying. Yoongi doesn’t see the connection.
“You’ve had a rock in your shoe since the garden?” he asks.
Namjoon’s flush deepens. "And how our friends were... um... providing commentary?"
Yoongi definitely remembers that.
Their friends had spent most of the interview component quiet, because they had to be, but when it switched to the photography Jungkook had trailed along because he wanted a look at the camera equipment, and Seokjin had trailed along because he liked watching Jungkook work, and Jimin and Hoseok and Taehyung hadn't wanted to feel left out.
The poor magazine crew hadn't been prepared to deal with the banter that followed, even if it was entirely between the seven of them and didn’t technically impact the magazine crew at all. It was loud, and made it difficult to focus, and after five minutes Yoongi had, very politely, asked them to go busy themselves elsewhere. They’d obliged, and the relieved magazine crew had returned to their work, and Yoongi had thought that was the end of it.
Now that Namjoon mentions it though it does more or less line up with the start of Namjoon’s bouts of preoccupation, and based on the way he’d specifically mentioned the commentary Yoongi would be willing to bet this has all been about something someone said.
Remembering everything that had been yelled across their garden is hard. There’d been a lot of comments in the vein of aah, Yoongi-oppa, so sexy! and work it Namjoon, and quite a few about how none of them had known Yoongi owned a pair of white pants (Yoongi didn’t, they’d been magazine supplied), but Yoongi had been busy trying to figure out how Namjoon managed to pose his body without seeming like he was thinking about it. He’d missed a lot of the conversation.
"They said a lot of things Joon, you're going to have to be more specific."
Namjoon grimaces, then takes a deep breath. He holds it for three seconds before speaking. "Seokjin-hyung said it looked like we were doing an engagement shoot." Yoongi blinks. He has no memory of that at all, but it does sound like the sort of thing that Seokjin would say. "And then he started singing about putting a ring on it, and doing the dance."
Yoongi does remember seeing Seokjin flailing his arms in a way that maybe could be considered dancing, and watching as Jimin fell onto Jungkook he was laughing so hard, and wondering what had lead up to it. With the context things make a lot more sense, but he's not sure if he fully understands the connection Namjoon’s drawn in his mind.
They stare at each other, Yoongi confused, Namjoon expectant.
“I’m not actually telepathic remember,” Yoongi says at last.
“Oh,” Namjoon says. He looks away from Yoongi’s face, focusing on something just over Yoongi’s shoulder. “Right. Um. Would you want that? Or, I mean, I know we can’t here yet, but maybe, I don’t know, rings? At least?”
Yoongi blinks twice. He’s not sure his ears are working properly. “What?”
"It was just a thought," Namjoon says, looking at their shoes now. "Nevermind, we can forget it."
They’ve never really talked about things like rings at length before, at least, not in the context of them. Yoongi hasn’t really felt the need. They lived overseas together. They own a house together. Namjoon had said you’re it for me, hyung, in the car on their way to the showing, and Yoongi’s world had slid into focus even while the road ahead of him went blurry.
The world isn’t blurry now, it’s crystal clear. Yoongi feels like he could count Namjoon’s eyelashes, can see the place on Namjoon’s lip where he’s been worrying it enough the skin has started to peel. He reaches out for Namjoon’s hands and draws him closer, looking down to take in the rings on Namjoon’s fingers, then the rings on his own.
Most of Yoongi’s jewelry is delicate and silver, much the same as Namjoon’s, with the exception of one ring made of rosewood. It’s a pretty substantial departure from his usual style, and if he’s being honest he’s a bit surprised Namjoon hadn’t commented on it before except to say it looked nice.
Yoongi’s fingers don’t shake at all as he takes it off, decides it might be a bit too small for Namjoon’s ring finger, and slides it onto his pinkie instead.
“You can wear this one until we get a matched set,” he says firmly, staring at the ring so he doesn’t have to worry too much about Namjoon seeing his expression. “That we’ll pick out together.” He eyes the fit of the ring on Namjoon’s pinkie and adds, “And get sized properly.”
“Hyung-”
“I bought because of you,” Yoongi interrupts, because it feels important to say. “I meant to give it to you, but then it was nice, to have it, and wear it. Made me think of you.”
“Hyung,” Namjoon says again, and this time it sounds watery, and sure enough, when Yoongi looks up Namjoon has tears in his eyes with one escaping down his cheek. Yoongi is devoutly glad they’re still well out of sight of the house, and the magazine crew, and especially their friends. Their friends would never let them hear the end of this.
“Ah, Joon-ah,” he sighs, putting his hand on Namjoon’s cheek to steady himself and then going up on his toes to kiss the other one. Namjoon’s skin is hot, and a bit salty, and that’s all Yoongi has time to notice before Namjoon is wrapping his arms around Yoongi’s chest and squeezing, lifting him clear off his feet.
It’s hard to breath, with Namjoon wrapped so enthusiastically around him, with his ring (because it is his ring now, no matter who he’d originally bought it for) on Namjoon’s finger. If he didn’t know better he’d say he could almost feel it branding him through his shirt. He hooks his arms around Namjoon’s neck and holds on tight, lets Namjoon take a few shuddering breaths into his shoulder. His own breathing is shaky at best.
He’s shed some tears of his own when Namjoon sets him down gently, and a few more before they finally let go of each other. “I love you hyung,” Namjoon says, letting his hands trail along Yoongi’s back briefly before he brings them together between them. He’s fiddling with his rings — Yoongi doesn’t fully understand the significance of it until Namjoon is sliding one of his rings off his fingers and onto Yoongi’s. It’s one of the ones Yoongi had noticed earlier, hammered and silver and actually three linked, twined rings that swirl as Namjoon pushes it on firmly.
“Oh my god,” Yoongi says, staring down at it. “Kim Namjoon, do not tell me-”
Namjoon kisses him. It’s hot, and sweet, and his hands slide up under Yoongi’s shirt to settle against his lower back. Yoongi melts into the touch and gets one of his hands up into Namjoon’s still-sweaty hair to help them get the angle that makes them both sigh.
“I really did mean to give you that ring,” Namjoon says against his lips.
“Of course you did,” Yoongi agrees, stealing another kiss. “What a pair, eh?”
“Hobi would say we’re perfect for each other,” Namjoon says wryly.
Yoongi laughs. “Hobi would say it in very different tones than you did just now.”
“He would,” Namjoon says, gently taking Yoongi’s hand and holding it up again so he can admire the new ring on it. “Speaking of, we should probably go back and grace them with our presence again, shouldn’t we.”
“Probably,” Yoongi sighs, taking the opportunity to admire the way their hands look together. “Spot at least likely wants to see us.”
Neither of them move. They smile at each other. Yoongi has the chance to reflect, yet again, that he doesn’t think there’s a more beautiful sight in the world.
Namjoon is the one who finally breaks the stalemate, leaning in for one more kiss before he links their fingers and starts walking down the path. “We can start looking tomorrow?” he asks, glancing at Yoongi from the corner of his eye.
“Yes. Tonight even, if you want.” He’d start now, if they didn’t have plans for a barbecue, and a house full of nosey friends. “Although, not until the hooligans go home.”
“Oh definitely not.” Namjoon wrinkles his nose. “Can you imagine if they caught us?”
Yoongi can. After the general outcry of I’m always the last to find out! they’d find themselves with five very invested personal shoppers in a competition to be the one who suggested the winning choice. “Do we tell them at all?” he asks.
Namjoon pretends to think about it. “Nah. Let’s see how long it takes them to find out.”
It’s exactly the answer Yoongi wanted to hear. He grins up at Namjoon, who smiles so hard his eyes almost disappear in the apple of his cheeks. Between them their clasped hands swing. Namjoon’s hand is just as sweaty as it was on their way to the bridge, maybe even more so now, but Yoongi doesn’t care. He’s been holding Namjoon’s hand for ten years. He isn’t letting go of it for anything.