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Throwing open their hotel room door to a massive wave of cool, conditioned air is exactly what Yoongi needed right now.
The same is evident for Hoseok too, who peels his coat off his back and tosses it in the general direction of the chair he vaguely remembers being there, and makes a straight beeline for the nearest bed.
“Home sweet ever-loving home,” he groans into his pillow case, spreading his arms wide as if trying to give the bed a hug.
Yoongi snorts, bending to pick his coat up from where it unsuccessfully landed beside the trash can. “Get comfortable, we have a long month ahead of us.”
“Well, when you say it like that,” Hoseok pouts, propping himself up on his elbow. “You make it sound like a long month with me would be deplorably unbearable.”
“Nothing I said implied that.”
“Everything you said implied that.”
Yoongi sighs, shaking his own coat off his shoulders and hanging it up along with his bucket hat. “Whatever, I’m making dinner.”
“Maybe I just wanted to hear that you enjoy my company,” Hoseok sniffs petulantly, flopping back down onto the bed. “A guy likes to hear that sometimes.”
“Hoseok, if I didn’t enjoy your company I never would’ve taken up this mission with you.”
“Whatever,” Hoseok echoes at him, sulking into the sheets.
Yoongi wearily slides his keys onto the counter and pulls open the mini refrigerator, scanning their options (limited options, he should say — very limited. Wow) for an easy fix. Eggs and rice sounds appetizing enough so he pulls out the carton and the leftover rice he nabbed from the office and slides both onto the counter, making a mental note to fit some grocery shopping in between the next phase of their mission.
The rice is heated and seasoned in no time, but then it’s time for the eggs. He has a stare down with the cabinet where the object of his misery lies, and weighs out the possibility of him slipping and cracking his skull if he tries climbing up onto the counter himself.
He sucks in a breath at the thought, and decides not to test his luck.
“Hoseok-ah?”
His reply is immediate, although toneless. “Hyung.”
“Can you get the pan for me? It’s too high up.”
There’s a long stretch of silence, before Hoseok shuffles off the bed and pads his way into the kitchen area. His eyes follow Yoongi’s arm up to where he’s pointing, and snorts out a laugh.
“Why do we still keep them up there?”
Yoongi cracks a crooked smile. “Beats me.”
“Plus, you do know I’m only, like, three centimetres taller than you, right?” He adds in amusement.
Yoongi shrugs. “That many centimetres closer to the cabinet.”
“Alright,” Hoseok mirrors it. “Grab me a chair.”
Yoongi finds it and drags it over, positioning it in front of the counter and holding it in place while Hoseok carefully climbs onto the seat.
“Okay, now hold me up.”
Yoongi blinks. “What?”
Hoseok looks back at him in question. “I said hold me up.”
“Like — on your sides?”
“No, hyung,” Hoseok rolls his eyes, “on my toenails.” When Yoongi gives no response he continues, “Obviously on my sides!”
Yoongi scowls at him, gingerly reaching out to hold his waist steady. If he believes it hard enough he’s currently in a universe where he’s definitely not trying extremely hard to stop noticing how small Hoseok’s waist feels in his hands. It’s just an uncomfortable thought. He doesn’t understand why.
It’s over as quickly as it began, and Yoongi drops his hands away like he was gripping hit coals. Hoseok makes a face when he hands him the pan.
“You’re acting like you’ve never touched me before.”
“‘Cause I haven’t,” Yoongi protests. He doesn’t understand why. “Not like that.”
He regrets that the moment it leaves his mouth because Hoseok’s face does something extremely odd, and it’s uncomfortable, it’s uncomfortable because Yoongi understands it now, too.
Something shifts, a bit.
Hoseok crosses his arms. “Like what, hyung?”
Oh, boy. Evade, evade. “Like nothing, Seok-ah.” He chuckles weakly, shaking the pan in the air before turning back to the eggs. “Like nothing. Uhm, thanks for getting this for me.”
Hoseok continues to stand there for a beat, before he sighs and turns to exit the kitchen.
He's is in the shower when Yoongi finishes the first plate, and is stepping out when he starts on the second. Yoongi purposefully keeps his eyes down as he passes by, shirtless and steamy.
He keeps them down when Hoseok drops the towel and pulls on pajama shorts and a loose tee. And when he can’t take the pressure building up in his chest he exclaims a little louder than necessary, “Do you want lettuce with your eggs?”
Hoseok sinks down into the bed, making a small contemplative noise in his throat. “No thanks, just eggs are fine. Or can you add a slice of bread for me please?”
Yoongi hums in assent, pouring over the second batch.
There’s a lapse of silence where Hoseok whistles a little tune, kicking his feet while lazy eye-searching the bed for the remote. He finally spots it with a triumphant “Ah-ha!” and shuffles around to point it at the TV. Yoongi cuts in before he can switch it on.
”Besides, if anyone's company wants to be appreciated it’s mine.”
Hoseok turns to him first in confusion, and then incredulity.
“What on earth would signal to you that I don’t like your company?”
“You never tell me that you do.”
“I never thought I had to!” He gestures widely with the remote in his hand. “I had assumed my constant enthusiasm and general clinginess spoke enough words for me.”
Just on time the eggs finish cooking, and Yoongi frowns, sliding the last one onto a plate. “Foods ready,” he mumbles, carrying both trays over to the small table nested in the space between the two beds. Hoseok claps eagerly, conversation promptly forgotten as he takes the first plate from Yoongi's hand.
He’s digging in heartily before Yoongi has even settled into his bed, making a long noise of contentment as he gathers a clump of rice and a piece of egg together and fits both into his mouth at once.
“Someone was hungry,” Yoongi chuckles, watching with equal parts amusement and concern as Hoseok tries to swallow around his food.
“This,” he muffles around a cheekful, pointing down at his plate. “This is good food. You’re amazing, hyung, really.”
It’s just eggs, something far off in him wants to retort, but Hoseok’s comment catches him off guard.
Yoongi’s chest squeezes oddly as he smiles down at his own food, and finally forks some into his mouth.
It’s after a few hours of relaxing in their respective spaces that Hoseok starts to yawn, smacking his lips a little and stretching out his arms.
Yoongi sets his phone down, sharing a yawn of his own. “Getting tired?”
“A little,” Hoseok hums. He rolls his neck around and then kicks the covers back so he can worm himself underneath them. “We have to get back to work in the morning, we should get a good night's rest.”
“That’s the first good idea you’ve had in weeks,” Yoongi replies, sliding his phone away and biting down a smile when Hoseok gasps in protest. He reaches out for the light switch.
“Alright, Goodnight, Seok-ah.”
The room is cascaded with darkness and then split open with a piercing shriek that makes Yoongi jump out of his bones. The lights are flipped on instantly, and he’s met with Hoseok staring at him with eyes wider than the moon.
Yoongi stares back at him in concern. “Hoseok...what was that?”
“What was what?”
“That scream just now, that— was that you?”
Hoseok purses his lips, eyes flickering around before he shakes his head shortly. “Nope, not me.”
Yoongi furrows his eyes brows suspiciously but doesn’t respond, slowly reaching out again towards the lights. Hoseok’s eyes track his every movement.
He switches it off. Hoseok shrieks again.
Yoongi sits up accusingly, flipping it back on. “So it was you!”
Hoseok sits up too, looking indignant. “Can’t we just leave them on?”
“Why would we do that?”
“Because,” Hoseok stresses, “Why not? People do that sometimes.”
“Hoseok…” Yoongi starts slowly. “Are you...don’t tell me you're scared of the dark?”
“I’m not scared of the dark.”
“Hoseok.”
“Hyung.”
“You’re an FBI agent.”
“And?”
“And you’re scared of the dark,” Yoongi says incredulously.
“I’ll have you know I don’t appreciate you phobia-shaming me. Plus I’m not scared of the dark.” Hoseok insists, pulling a spooky face that looks more goofy than anything else, wiggling his fingers around. ”I’m scared of what hiiiiides in it.”
Yoongi is unimpressed. “That’s what everyone who’s afraid of the dark says.”
“Listen! It’s a valid fear.”
“Well sleep is valid too, so can we do that?” He grumbles, extending an arm again to flip off the lights.
Hoseok flips it right back on. “Stop turning it off.”
Yoongi growls, flipping it off again anyway. Hoseok flips it on. Yoongi flips it off.
After an endless, aggressive tirade of light flipping they both have a hand held possessively on the light switch, and Yoongi breathes in slowly, staring Hoseok down.
“Fine.” The conclusion is made before he can think it through, and he shoves his blankets off and climbs out of his bed, marching across the floor. Hoseok watches him approach in mild apprehension, fully expecting to be smacked into oblivion, but Yoongi simply shoves back Hoseok’s covers and then clambers into them, rolling so his back is to his face.
“There,” he grunts. “Compromise.”
Hoseok sounds stunned. “What kind of compromise do you call this?”
“The ‘as long as I'm here there’s nothing to be afraid of so can we please, for the love of god, turn off the lights and get some sleep’ kind.”
Hoseok is quiet for a few painful moments where Yoongi regrets every decision in his life before he replies with a grin heavy in his voice, “I can't say I'm not compelled.”
Something shifts, and locks into place.
“Maybe if you turned around to face me I would consider it,” he continues slyly, and Yoongi makes a low grumbling noise before begrudgingly flipping over. Hoseok’s face is triumphant, and warm, and something else Yoongi can’t quite place.
“What about a hug?”
“I’m not giving you a hug.”
“Please?” Hoseok pulls a powerful pout, pressing his hands together. “A hug?”
“For the love of god,” He mumbles, shuffling closer and tentatively wrapping an arm around him.
“Hmmmm,” A pleased Hoseok hums, nestling into his shoulder. He smells of fabric softener and vanilla and a bit like home. Yoongi frowns, and hesitates, before his hands coasts up his back and hovers over the crown of his head. He rests his fingers down gently, and Hoseok makes a noise —albeit cheeky— of content.
“You can turn the lights off now.”
“Oh,” Yoongi exhales, twisting back to slap around blindly at the wall until he scores and the room descends into darkness again. “Right.”
There’s a small stretch of silence that encases them both, and between it, Yoongi starts to understand. He listens to Hoseok breathe, off time with his own heartbeat but still strumming to the same song, and understands.
He’s spent so much time overlooking it, so much time overthinking it. So apprehensive and scared to come too close to a conclusion that would make things difficult.
But Hoseok’s head on his shoulder, it’s — it's easier than he had imagined. It’s so right that he wants to be scared of it. He’s not sure what the morning brings but for now, in between the quiet, he sees it. The faint light from a distant street lamp and the moon outside starts to come into focus and Hoseok shifts quietly, and he understands.
He understands. Overwhelmingly so.
”Seok-ah?” He whispers softly.
“Hm?”
“It’s okay to be an FBI agent and be scared of the dark. I didn’t mean it.” He rests his cheek on the top of Hoseok’s head. “They can coexist. You’re okay.”
Hoseok’s laugh is warmer this time, and dusted with a bit of sleep. Yoongi wants to wrap it up and keep it in his chest forever.
“I know you didn’t, hyung. You’re okay too.”