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Jungkook won’t stop biting his fingernails.
Namjoon rolls his eyes when he hears the soft hiss of pain, reaching out to grab at his wrist without looking away from the movie they’re watching. “Yah, what did I tell you?” he asks, voice stern but only half-there.
Jungkook pouts. Namjoon doesn’t need to look at him to see it; it’s as though he has a sense for it, like he can feel it.
Also, a second later Jungkook leans closer to him, head resting against the back of the couch.
Namjoon instinctively stiffens. Even now, he has to actively work against the resistance, but he manages it with a couple slow breaths.
“Jungkookie,” he murmurs, stretching his arm out against the back of the couch and not saying anything else.
Jungkook wiggles a little, because he’s ridiculous, and Namjoon laughs. He’s leaned back a second later, head against his arm, looking at Namjoon with that reverence that still hurts when he looks at it too long.
He has to make himself look away, back at the TV. Something explodes—he hasn’t been paying enough attention to know what, or who.
Jungkook scoots closer. He’s twitching a little.
He sighs, rubbing his shoulder. “You’ll get yelled at if you show up with bloody cuticles again," he chides, tousling his hair.
" Hyung ," Jungkook pouts, pushing him away. He chews on his lip then, and there's no reason for Namjoon to know it but they're already swollen, like he's been picking and chewing at them for weeks.
"Hey," he says softly. He doesn't know what possesses him in the moment, but he reaches out, gently tugging Jungkook's lip out from under his teeth. "Did you already lose the chapstick you bought?" His tone is quiet, aiming for admonishing, but he knows that (as always) it veers too far into fondness. Oh well.
Jungkook pouts. "I didn't!" he insists. "I had it in my pocket and then Hobi-hyung borrowed my pants and when he gave them back the chapstick was gone."
Namjoon fights against another indulgent smile. "What are we going to do with you?" he teases, gently pinching his cheek.
Jungkook wrinkles his nose. "I'm fine," he insists, leaning away slightly. "It's been cold lately, that’s all.”
Namjoon frowns, running his thumb over his lower lip again. “I worry about you,” he tells him.
Jungkook rolls his eyes, cuddling close again, head heavy on his shoulder and fingers tapping against his leg.
Jungkook is biting his lips again.
The seven of them are crowded into Jimin and Hobi’s room, beds shoved together for one of their movie nights. Namjoon is in the middle, back straight against the headboard, with Jungkook next to him, slouching a little.. When Namjoon looks at him, he can see he’s biting his lip.
Namjoon sighs, grabbing the little tube of chapstick out of the pocket of his robe. “Yah,” he says, elbowing him gently in the side and handing it over.
Jungkook takes it, smiling wide. He leans down to press a kiss to the top of Namjoon’s head, murmuring, “Thanks, hyung.”
If Namjoon goes red at the low, sweet tone of his voice, well, it’s dark. It’s not like anyone else can see.
Jungkook slips it back into Namjoon’s pocket when he’s through with it, yawning and settling further down the bed. He maneuvers them until he can rest his head on top of Namjoon’s shoulder again, pulling his knees up to his chest.
Namjoon’s heart stutters in his chest. He curls his arm around Jungkook, pulling him closer. It jostles Taehyung, who lets out a quiet whine from where his head is in Jimin’s lap.
Jungkook kicks at him, pouting a little. His lips are shiny now, and Namjoon loses a few seconds staring at them.
He’s on fire, burning up from the inside out. He realizes a second later that he’s just blushing, which is moderately less alarming.
Jungkook giggles at the screen then, burrowing further into Namjoon’s shoulder, and Namjoon freezes, rubbing his thumb over his arm.
Oh, god.
Jungkook falls asleep halfway through the movie, snoring gently against Namjoon’s cardigan. He’s almost positive there’s a wet spot of drool on the fabric, which is a sort of gross thought, but he can’t bring himself to move him.
Taehyung has starfished, one leg thrown over Jimin’s and the other foot pressed against Jungkook’s calf. He’s snoring as well, mouth half-full of the material of Jimin’s sweatpants.
Namjoon rolls his eyes, smiling wide when he catches Yoongi’s eye. Yoongi nods toward the door, gently extricating himself from underneath Hobi.
Hobi groans, nuzzling against his stomach. “Mmph,” he says against the sheets.
Namjoon laughs at that. It’s quiet but clearly not enough; Jungkook lifts his head up, frowning at him, bangs in his eyes. “What?” he asks, voice creaky with sleep. He’s got the indents of the fabric of Namjoon’s shirt against his cheek.
Once again, his heart clenches. “Let’s get you to bed, sleepy,” he tells him fondly, rubbing his thumb over the little wrinkles.
Jungkook groans. “Gotta shower,” he yawns. “Wash… wash my face.” As he’s saying it, his eyes fall shut.
Namjoon laughs again, pushing Jungkook aside enough that he can crawl down the bed and grab his hand. “Come on, I’ll do it for you,” he promises.
“Hyung?” Jungkook mumbles, clumsily crawling to the edge and standing up, dropping his head onto his shoulder.
“I’ve got you,” Namjoon promises, kissing his head and leading him into the bathroom down the hall.
Jungkook yawns, nudging his nose against his sweater and letting himself be led. He always goes easily with them—knows they won’t let any harm come to him. Namjoon likes that, likes letting Jungkook be the one to lean on him sometimes.
He gets him to lean on the counter, pulling out his cleanser, toner and a cotton ball. “Here,” he says, guiding him enough that Jungkook can cleanse and rinse his face, feeling into his hair with his hand and scratching gently at his scalp.
He rubs toner over his skin, holding his chin still with his free hand and smiling a little. Jungkook’s face is slack, relaxed, and Namjoon lets himself look for a few beats too long.
He takes in a deep breath, moisturizing his face for him and rubbing the extra over his neck, smiling a little when Jungkook wrinkles his nose. “There you go,” he says, taking his hand.
Jungkook blinks sleepily at him, lacing their fingers together. “You’re sleeping with me, hyung,” he tells him, voice still low and demanding.
Namjoon’s heart, once again, skips a beat.
“Of course,” is what he says instead of anything more damning, leading him to his room—Jungkook’s is freakishly bare, no pillows or extra blankets, and Namjoon likes to nest.
Jungkook flops down on his stomach, groaning and army-crawling further up the bed until he can hug a pillow, turning his head to the side.
Namjoon watches him for a long minute, eventually pulling his phone out of his pocket and taking a photo of him before crawling beside him.
Jungkook maneuvers them bodily so he’s wrapped around Namjoon, leg thrown over Namjoon’s hip and face pressed against his hair. “Sleep,” he mumbles.
Namjoon can’t help the giggle he lets out, patting his hand. He curls up instinctively, back pressed against him, and grabs another pillow to hold against his chest. He’s not tired, really—he’s always been more of a night owl than most of the others—but he can doze.
It surprises him, then, when he wakes up a few hours later, sweaty and stuck to the sheets, squinting into the darkness. He tries to sit up, but Jungkook’s arm is a vice around his waist, holding him still. “ Hyung ,” he groans, flicking the back of his head with his free hand. “Stop wiggling.”
Namjoon laughs at that, murmuring, “Just let me get my pants off,” sitting up to kick them over the edge of the bed before sliding back under the sheets, on his back this time.
Jungkook rolls close again, resting his head on Namjoon’s chest and yawning.
Namjoon looks at him, taking a deep breath and watching the way he nuzzles closer. Like a cat, he thinks.
Before he can take that train of thought any further—his sleep-drunk brain has thought of weirder things—he closes his eyes, willing himself back into sleep.
When he wakes up, Jungkook is on the opposite side of the bed.
He’s curled onto his side, arm covering his face and one leg half off the bed. It looks like he fell asleep trying to make an escape, honestly, and Namjoon stifles a laugh, snaps another picture before he sits up.
He stretches and pads into the bathroom, getting started on his morning routine as quietly as he can.
As expected, Yoongi’s the only one awake when he heads into the living room. Namjoon grins around a yawn, rubbing sleepily at his eyes. “Is there coffee?”
Yoongi nods, giving him a thumbs up. “Picked some up yesterday.”
“Thanks,” Namjoon says around a yawn, dropping a kiss onto his head when he walks by and avoiding the swat Yoongi gives him, giggling his way into the kitchen.
He brings his coffee to the table, opening his phone and tapping his foot against the leg of the chair while he scrolls.
Jungkook’s up next, rubbing at his eyes. He sits down next to Namjoon, tugging his coffee close to him and taking a long sip.
“Brat,” Namjoon says, fondness laced through the word.
Jungkook grins at him around the straw, and that’s when Namjoon sees—his lip’s cracked, just a little, enough that it’s redder than the rest of his mouth. He frowns, grabbing the chapstick from his pocket again and murmuring, “C’mere.”
“Hyung?” Jungkook asks, but he does as Namjoon asks, facing him more fully.
Namjoon puts the chapstick on him himself this time, holding his jaw still again. He’s focused enough that he doesn’t hear Jungkook’s breathing catch so much as feel it, putting the little tube back in his pocket.
He keeps his hand on his jaw for another minute, though, smiling gently at him. There’s a wistfulness in it; he knows, they all know, that Jungkook used to have a crush on him, but Namjoon also knows that he flits through crushes like a butterfly, never landing for too long.
It’s a slower burn for Namjoon, but once his heart has landed on someone—well, he’s in for a hard time convincing himself anyone else is worth it.
Jungkook has a small, almost shy smile on his face, and it’s so reminiscent of the past that Namjoon has to pull away, stand up, tell him, “Gonna use the bathroom,” and hightail it out of there.
Cool. Okay. This is fine.
He splashes water on his face, taking a couple breaths to steady himself. He’s not going to get weird about this. He’s had a crush for a while and he’s so far managed to avoid the inherent weirdness that comes with it—what’s a few more years? Jungkook will find someone, and his horrible jealous heart will calcify, and maybe he’ll adopt a dog or a lizard —
There’s a knock on the door.
Namjoon sighs. Even without opening it, he knows who it is. “Come in,” he says.
Jungkook opens the door, looking small and nervous like he hasn’t in years. “I made you another,” he says, offering Namjoon a mug of coffee.
God. God . Ridiculous, sweet boy. Namjoon’s heart swells as he takes it. “Thank you,” he says, looking down into it. He put cinnamon in it. Namjoon is a fucking goner. Has always been a goner, really.
Jungkook shifts. “Are you upset?” he asks after a second. His voice is too loud, like he had to make himself say it.
Namjoon frowns. “No,” he promises, reaching out to squeeze his wrist. “No, I’m not.”
Jungkook nods, looking at the point of contact. “You left,” he says, and clears his throat. “This morning…”
And, ah, there it is. Jungkook hates waking up alone almost as much as he hates falling asleep alone. He frowns, stepping closer and pulling him into a tight hug. “I’m sorry, baby,” he murmurs. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
Jungkook frowns against his shoulder, shaking his head. He’s tucked himself in again, curled around him like he’s trying to be shorter.
“Come on,” Namjoon says. “Let’s get out of here, go finish cuddling.”
“We don’t have to,” Jungkook says quickly, though he can’t hide the soft pleased tone of his voice.
Namjoon rolls his eyes, grabbing the coffee and hurrying to his room, Jungkook right behind him. He slips his arm around Namjoon’s waist, pressing his face against the back of his neck. He smells like sweat and the lemon-scented chapstick Namjoon put on him.
If this is it, how he dies—well. Who can blame him?
“Come on,” he says quietly, squeezing his wrist and pulling him toward the bed, smiling wide now that it’s just the two of them. He lets Jungkook curl around him, slipping a hand under the back of his thin t-shirt and rubbing.
Jungkook sighs happily, mouth pressed against his neck. “Much better,” he sighs.
Namjoon laughs at that, muffling it into his hair. “Clingy boy,” he teases.
Jungkook pouts. “You’re mean,” he tells him, poking his side. “Mean to me when all I want is to cuddle…”
Namjoon rolls his eyes, impossibly fond. “You’re just a brat. Got too used to us coddling you…”
“ Hyung ,” Jungkook whines, pulling back to look at his face. There’s a minute where it looks like he’ll say something else, where the vulnerability is open on his face, and it shocks Namjoon more than anything else could.
He goes still, looking back at him. “Yes?” he asks, hand still flat against his back.
Jungkook tilts his head. He’s chewing on his lip again, a slight wrinkle between his eyebrows.
Namjoon looks over his face — his awful, beautiful face. “What?” he asks, quiet.
There’s a moment of quiet, and then Jungkook shakes his head. “Nothing,” he whispers back. He’s chewing on his lip again.
“ Stop ,” he says, tugging his lip out from between his teeth. “Look at you lately.”
Jungkook smiles a little, kissing his thumb. “Got any more chapstick?” he asks.
Namjoon laughs. “Bought a few packs the other day,” he admits, sitting up to roll over and grab one out of his drawer. He hands it to Jungkook, who looks a little startled, fluffy-haired and wide eyed.
“You did?”
“Of course I did.” Namjoon rolls his eyes. “You keep losing yours, I figured I’d hide enough of them around the apartment that you’d always be able to find them.”
He laughs at that, scooting closer. “Gonna put it on me again, hyung?” he asks, giving Namjoon another ridiculous pout.
Namjoon snorts, taking the cap off. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, putting it on him carefully. There’s a slight tint to it, and he swipes his finger just under Jungkook’s lip to get some off.
Jungkook smiles, soft and shy like he rarely is anymore. “Rapmon-hyung,” he starts.
He laughs, pushing at his shoulder. “How many times have I told you not to call me that?”
“I’m sorry!” Jungkook laughs, hiding his face against his shoulder. “I forget when I’m nervous.”
“Come on. What are you nervous about?” Namjoon rubs further up his back, closing his eyes and breathing in slowly.
“You know,” Jungkook says, fingers gently stroking Namjoon’s side.
Namjoon does not know. For as well as he knows all his boys, Jungkook especially, he’s not actually a mind reader. “I don’t, but you can tell me,” he says quietly.
Jungkook rolls away from him, looking up at the ceiling. He keeps a hand on Namjoon’s arm, voice disarmingly light when he says, “If you keep touching my mouth like that I’m going to get the wrong idea.”
Namjoon’s heart stops. “What’s the wrong idea?” he asks quietly, slowly feeling over his wrist.
Jungkook finally looks over at him, murmuring, “You know,” again.
This time, Namjoon does know. But that doesn’t explain— “Well, what’s wrong about that?”
“Don’t do that,” Jungkook says, a laugh in his voice. “Don’t — please don’t pretend you don’t know,” and he’s shrinking in on himself again.
Namjoon has always been good with his words, but right now he can’t think of anything to say. Instead, he scoots closer, feeling over Jungkook’s cheek. “What’s wrong with it?” he asks again, soft.
Jungkook’s staring at him now. Namjoon’s close enough that he can feel how he’s trembling. “Hyung,” he almost whispers.
“Because,” Namjoon says, clearing his throat, “I’ve been thinking about that—kissing you for a couple of years now, so if that’s all you’re talking about—”
Jungkook laughs. It sounds bright, pleased, relieved . “Well, you’d better get to it, then,” he breathes, tugging Namjoon as close as possible, hand flat against his chest.
Namjoon leans in, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Demanding,” he whispers, barely-there.
Jungkook’s eyes flutter shut, and he tilts his chin up just barely. Namjoon keeps his eyes open as long as possible, making a soft sound when he finally gets a kiss.
It’s overwhelming, is what it is. Jungkook kisses like Namjoon always had a feeling he would— he’s desperate and eager, pressing himself all along Namjoon and shoving his shirt up. He lets out little sounds, not quite moans. It’s more as though he has to get some noise out, like he’ll combust if he doesn’t.
“Careful,” Namjoon whispers, kissing just under one of his eyes, pressing their foreheads together. “Breathe for me, baby.”
Jungkook melts . “Yeah, you’re not gonna get me to calm down if you call me that,” he laughs, rubbing his foot along Namjoon’s.
Namjoon snorts, kissing his cheek. “ Baby ,” he teases. “My baby...”
“That’s it. I’m finding another person to kiss,” Jungkook giggles, nose against Namjoon’s cheek. He makes no move to leave, though, in fact pulling Namjoon even tighter.
“Are you?” Namjoon asks, soft and playful, biting at his jaw.
“Nah,” Jungkook admits, kissing his jaw then. He smiles, murmuring, “It would be mean of me when you’ve waited years to kiss me…”
Namjoon laughs at that, loud and embarrassing, turning his head into another kiss before he answers. “Oh, like you didn’t know…” he teases. “You and those thighs, those arms of yours…”
Jungkook giggles. “You—no, come on, I didn’t know,” he laughs.
“Really?” Namjoon raises his eyebrows. “And here I thought my daydreams were so obvious…”
“Oh? Daydreams?” Jungkook asks, grinning wide enough that all his teeth are on display. “Go ahead, tell me about those.”
Namjoon rolls his eyes. “Third date and I’ll tell you,” he promises.
“Oh, you’re cocky,” Jungkook says, laughter in his voice again. He pushes Namjoon’s shirt up again. “It’s almost like you know I’ve been fantasizing about you for a decade…”
Namjoon snorts. “No you haven’t,” he insists. There’s no way it’s him Jungkook has been stuck on.
Jungkook looks shyer now, shrugging. “Well,” he starts, and then stops.
“No, it’s okay,” Namjoon says quickly, shifting closer again. “It’s alright. You can tell me on the third date too, how does that sound?”
Jungkook grins again, hiding his face against his shoulder. “Third date,” he agrees, lacing their fingers together.
Namjoon doesn’t know if he’s ever felt this light.