Work Text:
d-9, february 5, 2021:
“I...I really don’t think this is a good idea.”
Namjoon’s face falls for the briefest of moments, and Yoongi is left wondering if this is wrong, if he’s wrong, if he’s got all this wrong somehow. He can’t go on a date with this guy, can’t knowingly go on a date with arguably the kindest, coolest person in the world with, well...with all that he knows.
“Right. I get it. I’m sorry.” Namjoon’s voice is embarrassed and shy, so different from the booming confidence and laughter that coat every one of his words on a normal day. Yoongi hates that he’s done this to him.
“Listen, it’s just-”
The barista with the ring on his finger waves his hands in a firm no harm, no foul gesture and smiles bashfully.
“Seriously, don’t worry about it. No explanation needed.”
Namjoon leaves Yoongi with one final lopsided grin and a firm tap to the wooden table that’s become Yoongi’s second home over the past few months. As he watches Namjoon’s retreating figure head back behind the counter and smile at the beautiful man with the shoulders that might rival Atlas’ himself, Yoongi can’t help but wonder if he’s got this terribly wrong.
d-8, february 6, 2021:
Given how much time Yoongi spends working at the Magic Shop cafe during the week because he hates going into the office, it comes as a shock to realize just how much Hoseok’s studio feels like home. Yoongi doesn’t bother attending any of the meetings he gets invited to, instead choosing to keep his head down at his makeshift desk in the corner of the open concept cafe. Here though, in the confines of Hoseok’s soundproofed studio, Yoongi finds a little peace.
“You’re restless,” Hoseok notes, eyes fixed on his desktop computer. He doesn’t bother turning to face Yoongi head on. “It’s really messing with my flow.”
“Your flow never stood a chance,” Yoongi retorts, scoffing.
Unsurprisingly, this is what actually gives Hoseok pause.
“You’re never this mean to me this early in the morning. On a weekend, no less. What the fuck is going on.”
Yoongi clicks his tongue and leans back on Hoseok’s couch, grunting when his back hits the arm of the sofa. It’s easy to tell Hoseok things because he’s Yoongi’s closest friend, but this is different. There’s something about his friendship with Namjoon that Yoongi hasn’t quite figured out yet, let alone brought up with Hoseok, and the prospect of doing so feels achingly vulnerable. It makes Yoongi’s dilemma a little too real.
“He’s married.”
“He?”
“The coffee shop guy. Namjoon.”
Yoongi scratches his fingers over his knee to give himself something to do. It’s silent and awkward and maybe he never should’ve mentioned this in the first place because it feels all too vulnerable to be left in the space of: I liked him. I wanted so badly to say yes when he asked me on a date.
“Oh.” He doesn’t have to look to know that Hoseok is frowning now, probably worrying his lip between his teeth. “Do you know for sure, though?”
A laugh startles its way from Yoongi’s lips. It’s nowhere near the reaction he expected his best friend to have.
He nods tiredly. “I’ve seen his wedding ring, heard him talk about his husband. I’m a fucking masochist, what the fuck.”
Hoseok mm’s in response, remaining silent.
“He asked me on a date, Hoseok-ah.”
Hoseok squawks in response and Yoongi just barely lifts his head in time to catch the way his eyes nearly bug out of his face in shock.
“What? His husband did?”
Yoongi shoots him a look. “No, you dolt. Keep up. Namjoon did. He asked me if I wanted to go on a bookstore date with him and complain about Ayn Rand over samgyeopsal.”
Hoseok’s eyes soften. “That’s really sweet, hyung. It’s literally everything you could ever want in a date.”
“He’s married.”
“Are you really sure, though? Not to shit on the sanctity of marriage or whatnot—you know I don’t really believe in it, but that’s neither here nor there—but, like. Do you really think he’s the type of person to just cheat on their partner like that? Or hey, maybe they have an open relationship! You really don’t know unless you ask. Which, you clearly didn’t. And now you’re stuck in your head wondering about this when you could be making out with a hot coffee man.”
Making out with the hot coffee man. Hoseok has a point.
But Yoongi trusts his ears, and they told him that Namjoon very clearly has a husband he stays up late making baked goods for, one he lives with and loves and cares about. It firmly clashes with the impression that Namjoon is the last person to pull grimy shit like this, but Yoongi chalks it up to the fact that really, he must not know Namjoon that well at all.
It’s his gut that tells him he might be wrong, though, and that in itself is terrifying.
d-6, february 8, 2021:
Namjoon smiles at Yoongi when he pushes the door open, and all fears that any of this would be awkward are assuaged. He rings Yoongi up like he always does, wandering off to prepare his Americano before the register is even finished reading Yoongi’s credit card. There’s an easy smile on his face as he regales Yoongi with tales of the morning rush and the number of grumpy suits he had to face today. It’s as if nothing’s changed.
But something has.
The ring on Namjoon’s ring finger remains firmly in place, and Yoongi can’t tell if it’s reassuring or insulting that the barista doesn’t bother shifting it to his right index finger like he usually does when Yoongi is around.
He takes his Americano with a final smile and heads to his usual table in the corner, trying not to think about the way Namjoon’s gaze feels like it lingers on him as he takes a seat. Yoongi covers his head with his usual over-ear headphones like any other day and works on the tracks Hoseok sent over last night, losing himself in thumping bass beats and the telltale synthesizer that screams Hoseok in every note.
He’s surprised by how quickly time passes when he sets the headphones on the table nearly an hour later and is about to step up for a refill when something stops him in his tracks.
“Jungkook-ah!” A squeaky voice calls, and suddenly Yoongi’s on edge. Nervous. He doesn’t know why that name elicits such a reaction from him, but it does. It’s familiar in the way it wraps itself around his chest, but Yoongi still can’t place where the hell he’s heard it before.
“Hey hyung,” a new voice replies, and all of Yoongi’s resolve crumbles to the ground as his curiosity wins out and his eyes flicker up to the door.
Oh.
It’s a beautiful boy with round doe eyes that search the interior of the cafe for someone.
“Joon-ah,” the same squeaky voice calls in the direction of the back store room. “Jungkookie’s here for you!”
The boy flushes pink before directing his gaze to the floor, where he’s currently scuffing the toe of his boot into the ground. Yoongi is so, so endeared that any fleeting thought he had before this doesn’t seem to matter anymore.
And then it all floods back into his mind, knocks right into his chest and leaves him gasping from the impact.
Oh, my husband Jungkook likes to paint, I’ll have to show him that magazine, uttered from behind the counter over what looked like a mug of hot chocolate.
Yeah, my husband Jungkook got it for me, answered by a husky voice that circled round and round Namjoon’s form until all that remained was the solid impression of a slim gold band around his ring finger. It still lights up Yoongi’s memory when he closes his eyes sometimes.
The exchange is quick, and before Yoongi knows it, Jungkook is pulling Namjoon in for a final hug and striding out the door with a pink paper box in his hand.
Yoongi packs up his bag, gives a quick nod to Namjoon behind the counter, and follows in the direction Jungkook left in.
He’s going to get some answers.
It turns out this Jungkook fellow’s place of work is the flower shop at the end of the street, one Yoongi passes by every time he heads to the subway station and one he’s stopped in to pick up bouquets of sunflowers for his mother from time to time.
Wind chimes tinkle as he steps in and immediately Yoongi is overtaken by the smell of fresh cut flowers breathing right into his nostrils. He remembers his way around the shop well enough, so he pretends to meander through the tulips, keeping an ear out for any murmurings of Namjoon or Jungkook or some conversation thereafter.
“Namjoonie hyung made us some sweets,” Jungkook says, and even the way he says Namjoon’s name is just. Sweet. Yoongi doesn’t know Jungkook, and Jungkook doesn’t know Yoongi, but something about everything he’s learned today leaves Yoongi wanting to protect him from, well. Yoongi.
A second voice, “That’s really nice of him, Koo. He made them this morning with Jin hyung?”
Jungkook must shake his head or do something to note otherwise. “He had to have made them last night. I fell asleep early after dinner and he had to open this morning, so I was the only one at home when I woke up.”
And fuck. If it wasn’t clear yet, it’s certainly crystal now.
Namjoon, the hot barista with the kind eyes that Yoongi has somehow grown extremely fond of over the past year or so, is married.
Worse, he asked Yoongi on a date, and it seems this Jungkook fellow doesn’t have a clue.
“Can I help you?” A voice asks, pulling Yoongi out of his reverie. It’s directed pointedly at him, he realizes soon enough. He supposes he spent too much time lingering in front of the hydrangeas, blowing his cover as someone who just needs to mind his own business. And he can’t help what comes out of his mouth next because it’s a reflex, damn it.
“Not with that kind of customer service, you can’t.”
The other man looks stunned for a moment but doesn’t say anything, just sniffs and cocks his head to the side. The boy in the yellow shirt—Namjoon’s husband, Jungkook, the boy Yoongi followed to his workplace like a fucking creep—stifles a laugh with his hand.
“I’m sorry about him,” Jungkook cuts in. “He’s new.” The unnamed man protests with an I’ve been working here for three years, how dare you call me new? that Jungkook waves away nonchalantly.
“You own this shop then?”
Jungkook nods proudly. “Built it from the ground up three years ago. Lots of blood, sweat, and tears went into this baby, but luckily the guys from the bakery down the street lended their hands to get this up and running.”
Yoongi processes it and nods, feeling like a complete bag of dicks for withholding information that might hurt Jungkook.
“Jungkook-ssi,” Yoongi says, and he realizes his mistake the moment he makes it.
Jungkook frowns. “How do you know my name?”
“I-I heard it at the cafe just now,” Yoongi admits, because honesty is always the best policy, regardless of how hard it can be. He doesn’t think he can admit the whole truth yet considering Jungkook might not even believe him, but this might be a start. “I stop in here every once in a while to pick up flowers for my mom.”
It’s not the whole truth, but it isn’t a lie either. Yoongi knows what he’s insinuating, but visiting his parents today might be a good idea, actually.
Jungkook smiles then, all earlier confusion replaced with a beaming smile as recognition meets him halfway. “I remember you. You’re the sunflower guy.”
Blood rushes to Yoongi’s cheeks and he can hear the new-but-not-so-new guy scoff, but he pays no mind.
“My mom loves sunflowers,” Yoongi says lamely, forgetting everything he’d come here to do. His brain threatens to betray him by conjuring up an image of Namjoon with a sunflower in hand.
“I do too,” Jungkook says quietly.
The unnamed extra character in the scene groans and mutters something about this being why he needs a raise before pushing the door to the back and disappearing.
Yoongi learns about said flowers, about Jungkook, and leaves thirty minutes later, dazed with a bouquet of sunflowers in hand. Jungkook had mentioned that sunflowers lift their heads to face the sun, and Yoongi can’t help but wonder if he’s the same. He can’t stop looking back from where he came, and even then, he turns his head the other way to catch a glimpse of the coffee shop, too.
Yoongi picks out the best vase he owns— the only vase he owns, his mind supplies—and fills it with water before unraveling the bouquet Jungkook had so painstakingly tied together. He pours a little bit out when he remembers he’ll have to keep it from sloshing all over his passenger seat in the 10 minutes it takes to get to his parents, and even then he’s thinking about Jungkook. Thinking about Namjoon.
Thinking about the two of them together.
Thinking about the three of them together.
Do you really think he’s the type of person to just cheat on their partner like that? Or hey, maybe they have an open relationship!
His mom pats his cheek and calls him her little mandu as always, pushing an extra cube of jangjorim onto his spoon when they sit down for dinner.
It’s nice, but.
Yoongi still finds himself craning his neck for sunlight.
d-2: february 12, 2021
“Okay hyung, I’m going in.”
Stretched out on his bed having just woken up for the day, Yoongi tucks his phone into the crook of his neck and uses his free hand to maneuver himself upright.
“What? What the hell is that supposed to mean? It’s Thursday, aren’t you supposed to be at work for your early class?”
Yoongi can practically hear the way Taehyung rolls his eyes over the phone.
“The children can wait, hyung. I can’t give them my best if I have something clouding my mind or my judgment, especially not after Hobi hyung told me all about your little barista predicament. So. I heard your cry for help. I’m doing you a favor.”
This sends Yoongi in a flurry to rush out of bed. He somehow lands on his feet and scans the room for something, anything to get himself together to pointedly keep Taehyung from doing something drastic, like show up at Magic Shop demanding where the hot coffee guy was.
Fuck.
“That wasn’t a cry for help! And certainly not to you!” His clothes, his clothes. He’s only in a white t-shirt and boxers now, but he thinks this shirt is clean enough to go out in public in. It takes a quick sniff, but it’s definitely okay, smelling only a little bit like garlic. And what kind of person doesn’t smell like garlic, really? The boring kind that Yoongi doesn’t give a shit about, for sure.
Taehyung clicks his tongue in sympathy. “This was absolutely a cry for help. You can’t brush me off, hyung. I’m trying to help you.”
“Taehyung-ah! I never asked for your help! This is overstepping a boundary I put in place by not bringing this up with you, and for very good reason.” Hoseok had made the three of them read a book on boundaries recently, and Yoongi has found the material extremely helpful in pushing off the two in their meddlesome tendencies. Today, Taehyung seems immune.
Yoongi squeezes into the ripped black skinny jeans still draped over his chair and tosses his phone onto his duvet. Taehyung’s voice is loud enough that he doesn’t necessarily need to put him on speaker.
“That’s not true and you know it. You fucking know anything you tell Hoseok hyung automatically comes to me because we’re platonic soulmates and we love you. Do you want to be our third? Ugh god, Taehyung, no — focus. We’re trying to get Yoongi hyung to be Namjoon and Jungkook’s third.”
Yoongi stops dead in his tracks. “What?”
“There you are! Are you rebooting now?”
“How do you know their names are Namjoon and Jungkook?”
A pause. “You literally texted me saying Jungkookie likes sunflowers and I had to ask Hobi hyung for context.”
Yoongi doesn’t remember doing that at all, but he fears the truth too much to ask what he means by this, too.
“And Namjoon?”
He can detect the smirk in Taehyung’s tone from the moment he inhales.
“Well, I’m looking right at his nametag as we speak.”
Yoongi doesn’t think, just grabs his wallet and runs. The door will lock itself.
It always does.
d-2: february 12, 2021, part 2
The great thing about floor to ceiling glass windows at Magic Shop is that Yoongi almost always has a perfect view to get some sunlight and people watching in while working.
The not so great thing about floor to ceiling glass windows, is that he can fucking see Taehyung trying to charm the pants off Hot Coffee Man (Namjoon, he reminds himself; he really needs to stop talking so much to Hoseok) at the counter. Namjoon to his credit looks like he’s trying to keep the grimace off his face, but it isn’t looking pretty.
“Kim Taehyung,” Yoongi growls as he walks in the door, and he thanks the heavens and moon and stars and sky that there’s no one in here but Namjoon, Taehyung, and the shoulder guy. Jin, he thinks his name is. “I’m going to fucking murder you. They will never find your body when I’m done with you. Hoseok will cry and then he’ll go on some dating app and replace you in his life, full stop, so help me god.”
Taehyung twirls on the ball of his foot and greets Yoongi with a lazy grin that reminds him all too much of the Cheshire Cat.
“Hi hyung,” he drawls, hanging his hand in his pocket nonchalantly. Clad in his Gucci best from head to toe, Taehyung looks like he’s set to go hang out with Harry Styles instead of heading to an expensive kindergarten to teach art class to rich silver spooned babies.
“Hey hyung,” Namjoon parrots back, because he’s cute and annoying like that.
Yoongi smooths out the expression on his face to turn to Namjoon and smile. Or at least school his face into something that resembles one. It must work because Namjoon beams back at him, dimple exposed and all. Against Yoongi’s better judgment, his heart flutters in response. It’s sickening and gross and he hates every second of it.
A thick beat echoes in his chest, sounding suspiciously like Hoseok when it says, you love it.
Taehyung clears his throat and Yoongi suddenly remembers why he’s here.
“Namjoon, I’m so fucking sorry about this, oh my god.”
Namjoon stares back at him quizzically, bouncing his eyes between Yoongi and Taehyung as if he’s the one missing a crucial piece of information. Yoongi gets it, he really does.
“Please don’t listen to him, shit, I swear I was going to bring this up with you myself, maybe in a really low-key way? But I didn’t mean for you to find out like this, I’m so fucking sorry.”
And if Yoongi adds a little desperation into his voice, it’s because he means it. He didn’t know how he’d go about this weird Namjoon and Jungkook situation, but now that he’s faced with it he isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do.
What he should do is walk away.
What he wants to do is find out the truth and see if it would be alright to admire both Namjoon and Jungkook from afar. See what they would say to the prospect of him admiring them from up close.
Taehyung looks all too amused, but it’s safe to say that Yoongi isn’t looking in that direction.
Namjoon’s face is unreadable, but the moment he opens his mouth it’s easy to realize that if anything, he’s amused. “Your friend here was telling me about how he can’t order coffee from me because he’s worried I might try to kidnap him.”
“And Namjoonie hyung was very kindly explaining to me that he wouldn’t because he once read an entire book about Stockholm Syndrome.”
Namjoon interjects, “Just in case it isn’t clear, that isn’t the only reason why I wouldn’t kidnap you. Besides the morality thing. I just...don’t really want to, no offense.”
Taehyung beams back at him. “None taken, Hot Coffee Man.”
Namjoon smiles bashfully, flitting his eyes back to Yoongi.
“You guys are uh, really familiar now, huh?” Yoongi asks, thrown for a loop. “And uh. Strange. You’re both kind of strange.”
A laugh bursts from Namjoon’s chest and he slaps the counter with his left hand. There’s the telltale sound of metal hitting wood, and Yoongi looks down. The ring is on his left hand where it always sits when Namjoon doesn’t think Yoongi is around.
Namjoon follows his eyes to where he’s looking and laughs, albeit a bit bashfully.
“Oops, I thought Taehyung-ssi was flirting with me so I kept it on the left side.” He quickly removes it and flips it to his right index finger, a movement Yoongi is very well acquainted with.
Yoongi blinks at him, so many words teasing at the tip of his tongue but oh so far away from actually being spoken. So many thoughts swirl in his brain that there’s nothing he can do but try and hold on to this swaying ship in the hopes that he’ll make it out alive. Standing.
Luckily, his best friend steps in.
“Wait, so you’re telling us that you aren’t married?” Taehyung’s voice grows more and more excited as he speaks.
“Why, would you be interested, Taehyung-ssi?” It isn’t Namjoon who replies, but the man who’s been watching the entire thing play out from the sidelines. Shoulder Guy steps forward from behind the espresso machine, wiping his hands on the spare cloth hanging from his waist.
Taehyung spares a glance up and down Shoulder Guy Who Might Be Jin, eyebrow raised in curiosity. “Who’s asking?”
Shoulder Guy extends a hand that Taehyung peers at for a moment before taking in his own. “Jin. Kim Seokjin, if you want to be technical.”
Yoongi looks between the two of them, fearing he might disintegrate if left between them for too long.
Namjoon turns to him apologetically, leaving Taehyung and Seokjin to do whatever it is they’re doing.
“I’m not married,” Namjoon says. Embarrassment colors his tone and Yoongi cocks his head to the side, horribly curious to know more. “I’m sorry if I led you to believe that.”
Yoongi opens his mouth to say it’s okay, but Namjoon beats him to it, lifting up his hand for him to see.
“I got this for 10,000 won at a random shop in Dongdaemun a few years ago because people kept hitting on me during my shifts. I wear it because I’m tired of people batting their eyelashes and flirting when I’m trying to be friendly, but, well. I’m sorry it confused you.”
His voice is gentle, as if Yoongi’s heart sits directly in his hands. Yoongi would like that a lot if he’s being honest with himself.
“That’s why you always switched your ring to your other hand when I came around.”
“Yeah.” Namjoon huffs out a laugh and scratches the back of his neck. “I wanted you to know that I was single, but I guess it didn’t work out the way I wanted to.”
“So when you asked me on a date…” Yoongi trails off.
Namjoon flushes but doesn’t avert his gaze. “I wanted you to be my Valentine. Because I’m single, in case you’re still wondering.”
“And what about Jungkook-ssi?” Yoongi has to ask.
Namjoon scrunches up his nose. “What about him?”
Yoongi wants so badly to say something along the lines of, I think he’s in love with you, but it isn’t his place. Maybe if he’s able to pull this off, maybe if he’s able to work it out with Namjoon, there’s a chance that a future with Jungkook could be possible, too. It might not work out with either one of them but at the very least Yoongi would like to get to know Hot Coffee Man and his Sunflower better.
He wants to try, and he thinks Namjoon might, too. Maybe Jungkook will eventually come around to the idea but trying, for now, means taking one step at a time. Unraveling what is from what isn’t before stepping into what could be.
“Who is he to you?” Yoongi asks instead.
Namjoon softens, and it says a lot that he takes it as the genuine question it is and not some weird jealous flex of Yoongi’s.
“My roommate and my best friend,” Namjoon replies, biting his lip before continuing. “I’ll be honest with you, some people haven’t really been down with Jungkook being in my life, but. He’s a non-negotiable.”
Never would Yoongi have ever expected something like that to be so hot, but it is.
“Good, because I like him a lot,” Yoongi says. He knows he isn’t giving Namjoon much to work with, so he takes a deep breath. “I like you a lot, too. And if the offer’s still on the table, I’d love to go on that date with you. I’d really, really love that. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I didn’t bring this to you directly, too.”
Taehyung wordlessly slides something between them, and Namjoon laughs aloud when he looks down.
OFFER, written in Taehyung’s elegant script, accompanied with a screeching guffaw that must belong to Seokjin.
Namjoon beams back at him, and it’s so bright that Yoongi has to lift his head a little to ensure he gets full exposure.
d-1: february 13, 2021
“What are you doing tonight, hyung?” Namjoon greets as soon as Yoongi picks up. There’s a smile in his voice and Yoongi is grateful he’s alone because he finds the corners of his lips lifting, too. They seem to do that whenever Namjoon is around.
“Just about to text my friend Iz since it’s their birthday today,” Yoongi says honestly, and he puts Namjoon on speaker so he can do that now. With the time difference, he thinks it might be the middle of the night for Iz so hopefully they’re in bed and sleeping by now.
He hits send and groans when the double check mark in their WhatsApp conversation immediately turns blue.
“That’s your friend with the Drag Race obsession, right?”
aha enjoy your date with your boy! maybe in an alternate universe you two are celebrating the four year anniversary of a song you wrote about how much you love each other <3
Yoongi chuckles and starts typing as he tells Namjoon all about one of his closest friends after Hoseok, one who lives halfway around the world and is brilliant and smart and lovely, all the good things this world has to offer. He thanks Haikyuu! everyday for bringing them together way back when.
go to sleep. i’ll facetime you later
you don’t make the rules! it’s only 3am here! i am very busy doing some pokemon research for a fic i’m writing, leave me alone
you’re a hater
tell the dude you want to fuck his roommate too
i’ll see you at 10pm KST
see you at 3pm bullshit time xx
YOU’RE NOT BRITISH !!!!!!
Yoongi relays it all to Namjoon, and the boy he’s a bit infatuated with sounds genuine when he says he’d love to meet them one day, too.
“Oh yeah, did you need something? Why’d you call?” Yoongi asks, suddenly realizing that it was Namjoon who’d called him first.
His answer is immediate. “Well, I figured places will probably be booked for tomorrow so I was wondering if you might want to go on our date today? If you’re free, of course, I know this is super last minute and you can tell me to-”
“I’m free,” Yoongi says. The words can’t leave his mouth fast enough, the need to affirm Namjoon searing hot in his veins. “I’d love to go on a date with you.”
There’s a sigh of relief from the other end, as if Namjoon was worried Yoongi would say anything else.
And that’s that. They’re going on a date.
later, but not much later:
“So, about Jungkook.”
Namjoon looks back at Yoongi with wide eyes behind thick spectacles, pausing to lick his lips subconsciously. Yoongi likes him so much. “What about him?”
“He’s single, right?”