Work Text:
Seokjin heaves a sigh as he punches in the code to his apartment, heavy feet just barely carrying him up the steps to his front door. It was a long, awful day at the office and the only thing he truly wants to do is change out of his work clothes, put on his matching flannel pajamas, have a glass of wine, relax and try not to think about the fact that he has to go back and do it all again tomorrow.
He shoulders inside, tiredly toeing off his shoes and kicking them into the corner. He sighs again as he carelessly tosses his work bag into the same corner. Home at last. His sanctuary–his peace. All that’s left to do now is change, then he can kick back and relax–
Why does it smell like something’s burning?
Seokjin races through the apartment trying to find the source of the smell. Sure, the place is cheap but it’s not that cheap–not to the point that things would be spontaneously bursting into flames at least.
He checks all the outlets he comes across as he moves, sniffing the air as he goes, as if it would lead him in the exact right direction he needs. There’s no smoke that he can see, but the burning smell is persisting, which means it isn’t something that had just followed him in from outside.
When he finally makes it to the kitchen, Seokjin is greeted with a soft haze–certainly the source of the pungent burning smell. His eyes immediately start to water and he coughs a few times. Through the thin cloud of smoke, though, he realizes that he shouldn’t even be surprised.
“Taehyung-ah,” he groans, slumping against the door frame into the small kitchen, rubbing his palms across his face as he tries to calm his racing heart.
In front of him, the slight cat hybrid’s triangle ears perk up before he turns around, facing away from the griddle he’d been poking at, a bright grin lighting up his features.
“Hyung!”
Even with the large headband stretched over his head, most of his dark wavy hair has escaped and fallen into his face, fluffy ears just barely visible, one of them flicking excitedly upon realizing that Seokjin is home. The shirt he’s wearing hangs from his shoulders–it was probably black at some point, Seokjin supposes, but old enough now that it’s more of a sad-grey color. He certainly doesn’t remember coming into possession of the Sesame Street apparel at any rate, which means it must be near-ancient.
From just under the hem of the shirt, Taehyung’s equally fluffy tail swishes happily, the very tip seeming to have a mind of its own as it moves almost independently of the rest of the soft appendage. Seokjin would almost be endeared, but it’s while watching his hybrid’s tail that he realizes…
“Taehyung-ah, what have I told you about making sure to wear pants?” The older man can only scrub his palms over his face again, feeling exhaustion seep into his bones once more.
The hybrid ignores him, still exceedingly pleased at seeing Seokjin home once more. He hums to himself as he turns around, returning to the hot griddle once again.
“I made nurungji for you,” he says, and even though he’s turned away, Seokjin can tell that he’s smiling. There’s a soft click when the young hybrid turns the appliance off and quickly transfers the snack to a plate. Taehyung turns back around and presents Seokjin with the plate of (well-done) rice, tail still happily swishing behind him.
Seokjin’s stomach growls despite the acrid, burnt smell of the rice–he hasn’t eaten yet today, even though he left before the sun came up this morning and he’s just now returning home, well after the sun has set. With how tired he’d been feeling, he really didn’t have the time to notice how hungry he was.
Against his better judgment, he tries to break off a small section of rice–one that looks the least burnt–trying not to visibly grimace at the unpleasant crunching noise that echoes around the quiet little kitchen. Taehyung is still watching him intently–his wide, feline eyes unblinking as Seokjin raises the wedge of rice to his mouth.
Seokjin can feel the way his eyes water the second the rice touches his tongue–all ash and smoke–a flavor that has crossed the line from “scorched” well into “burned”. He chews it once, and he knows that he’s making a face by the way Taehyung’s ears droop slightly while he watches him, ultimately opting to swallow quickly, hoping that the tiny piece he’d eaten was enough.
“This is good,” he chokes out, doing his best to force a smile and ignore the horrible burnt aftertaste lingering in his mouth.
Taehyung brightens once again, ears perked up high on his head. He shoves the plate happily into Seokjin’s hands, urging him to take it and feast. Seokjin manages to catch the plate, only barely saving it from falling to the floor and breaking before Taehyung breaks off into a full sprint out of the kitchen.
Seokjin sighs and slumps against the closest wall again. He can hear Taehyung bounding around, dashing from the small hallway into the bedroom, then back out into the living room again. A small part of him hopes that on one of his trips he’ll fetch a pair of pants–small sleep shorts, boxers, something –but he knows that’s a fool’s hope. He casts a glance down at the ruined rice in his hands and sighs again, wondering how he can dispose of it without Taehyung finding out.
After he managed to–hopefully–stealthily conceal the rice, Seokjin doesn’t actually see Taehyung again after he exits the kitchen. He’s not sure where the feline is, and he doesn’t spot him when he dips into his bedroom to gather some pajamas nor when he pops into the bathroom for a quick shower. He sighs again while in the shower, letting the hot water run over him as he rests his head on the cool tile, letting the stress of both his work day and his arrival home run off him, trying to revel in the quiet–the white-noise of the water falling around him.
This is how he thought it would be, he thinks. Cats are supposed to be independent–aloof, even. He thought he’d get a nice cat hybrid that would lurk around his place, occasionally coming to him for pets and cuddles, make themselves snacks (maybe even offer some to Seokjin). He’d just wanted some companionship with the occasional bit of conversation, and hybrids offered that. To know someone was waiting for him at home. A roommate but cuter .
What he got instead was Taehyung.
Seokjin does like Taehyung, is the thing. He’s just…completely exhausted by him. Often.
He didn’t really know Taehyung’s story, only heard from Yoongi that he knew of a cat looking for a home and he knew Seokjin had been looking. So, Seokjin had brought him home and showed him around. When he demonstrated the way the small couch extended out into a bed–just big enough for Taehyung’s slight form–he’d mumbled a soft Thank you, sunbaenim and kept his head down, eyes always averted.
Taehyung remained timid like that for a long time, practically spooked every time he heard Seokjin so much as take a deep breath, always looking over his shoulder to check for a reaction. Seokjin thought he was just shy and worried about being in a new place, that it was taking him a bit longer to get used to his new surroundings.
It had been about a week later that Seokjin had seen Yoongi again and found out why Taehyung was consistently walking on eggshells around him. That his previous owners (because that’s what they were, really–they could never be family with the way they’d treated him) had constantly berated him, made him feel less-than, and then had finally simply tossed him on the street when they decided he wasn’t worth it anymore–when they realized he was a living, breathing being and not a cute accessory.
Seokjin had never thought of himself as a bleeding heart, but he was sure that only a monster wouldn’t feel at least an ounce of compassion for Taehyung’s story. That evening, when he’d returned home from one of an infinite number of grueling workdays, he found Taehyung hunched over the counter eating a bowl of instant tteokbokki. As soon as the hybrid caught sight of Seokjin his ears flattened and he immediately cast his eyes downward, mumbling apologies as he hurriedly tried to clean up after himself.
Seokjin had been so thoroughly convinced that Taehyung was wary of his new surroundings that it seemed almost absurd to him now that he hadn’t recognized the truth: Taehyung was wary of him.
“Taehyung-ah,” he called softly as he approached the feline.
Seokjin set his hand on the top of Taehyung’s head once he was close enough, his fingers lightly brushing the base of the hybrid’s ears. When the younger boy flinched at his touch, an apology ready on his lips, it occurred to Seokjin that this was the first time he’d actually pet Taehyung since he’d brought him home.
“Do you want to watch a movie with hyung?” Seokjin asked softly.
Taehyung finally looked at Seokjin, also probably for the first time since they’d met at the shelter, and the older of the pair finally saw a glimmer of light behind his wide eyes. His ears perked up and he leaned into Seokjin’s touch, a soft smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“Yeah, hyung,” he’d murmured, “I’d like that.”
From then on, it had been…well, more or less the way it is now. Taehyung is still soft-spoken, giving voice only to the oddest of thoughts.
Hyung, if you had to choose, would you rather run super fast or fly super slow?
Run super fast so he could get away from Jungkook more easily.
Hey, hyung, do you think we have one butt? Or two?
Obviously two.
Why can’t we see our eyes?
Just one of life’s great mysteries, Taehyung-ah.
The questions typically come in between his random bursts of energy, which he lets off by running randomly between rooms, as though he’s checking them each very quickly for something secret and completely unknown. Once he’s done, curiosity thoroughly satisfied, he curls himself tight into one of the too-small IKEA chairs that Seokjin keeps around and promptly falls asleep.
He wishes he could pinpoint exactly when the issue with the pants (namely, the lack thereof) began, but for the life of him, Seokjin can’t remember. All he knows is that one day, Taehyung seemed to lose every bottom he had, wandering around the apartment in nothing but an oversized t-shirt or sweater.
“We’re not meant to confine ourselves, hyung,” he’d said, “Not humans, not cats, not hybrids. Really, it’s everyone else that’s weird, because I read a study online that said–”
Seokjin doesn’t remember what the Internet had told Taehyung about pants, he only remembers thinking What does the Internet say about having your ass directly on my couch?
The water has started to run cold and Seokjin sighs again, pointedly ignoring the loud squeak of the knob as he reaches to turn it off. He half-asses a skincare routine before he throws on one of his many absurd matching pajama sets and drags himself out to the living room, determined to waste an hour doing something that isn’t work-related before he passes out to do it all over again the next day.
Taehyung is still nowhere in sight, and Seokjin genuinely has no idea where the hybrid could be. The apartment isn’t all that large, and he’s positive he didn’t hear the front door open to signify that he’d left. It happens sometimes, cats going to curl up in a corner and ignore the world, and he does his best to ignore the prickling at the back of his neck that crops up from not knowing .
Seokjin falls like a sack of bricks into his cheap couch, bones feeling like they’re made of lead as he sinks into the cushions, so thoroughly exhausted he’s sure he could fall asleep sitting up. He blindly gropes around for the remote, flicking through random Youtube recommendations until he finds something that looks mildly interesting–enough to let him wind down, at the very least.
He must doze off without realizing, because the next thing he knows, he’s startled away by a soft Hyung? from directly next to him. He manages to peel his eyes open, grimacing at the tightness in his neck from being stuck in such an awkward position for an extended period of time. He glances through his eyelashes to find Taehyung crouched next to him, face impossibly close to Seokjin’s own, while he waits for a response.
Seokjin grunts in response, blinking blearily as he stretches his limbs. “Taehyung-ah,” he says, voice heavy with sleep, “How can I help you?”
He can feel as Taehyung shifts his weight uncomfortably next to him. When he settles again, he can see the smooth expanse of the hybrid’s thighs, disappearing underneath of a pair of loose grey shorts. Seokjin smiles to himself, feeling somewhat amused that Taehyung had finally decided to acquiesce to his request for pants.
“Uhm, it’s just that…I was hoping…to sleep?” Taehyung phrases it like a question, the little bits of nerves from the past shining through.
Seokjin does his best to blink himself into a more coherent state. He reaches out, threading his fingers through the dark curls atop Taehyung’s head, lightly rubbing around the base of his triangle ears the way he knows he likes. Taehyung presses into it, silently seeking more attention and pets; there’s a soft rumbling bubbling from somewhere in the hybrid’s core, almost completely inaudible.
“Okay then,” he says, voice still rasped with sleep, “Let’s go to sleep then, Taehyung-ah.”
Taehyung is still purring softly from the way Seokjin had been petting him, but the question is clear in his eyes. Seokjin offers him a sleepy smile and tugs the feline up alongside him, lightly tugging him along by his wrist.
“Hyung, I don’t– I didn’t mean–” Taehyung stutters behind him.
Seokjin marches them both into the bedroom, carefully arranging first his own spot, then one next to it for Taehyung. While he works, he can sense Taehyung fidgeting behind him, the question trying to bubble out of him physically if he won’t verbalize it.
“You said you wanted to sleep, yeah?” Seokjin asks, turning to face the hybrid once he’s satisfied with the state of the bed. “So let’s sleep.”
He takes Taehyung’s wrists again gently, tugging him closer and urging him to follow and lay down. Seokjin gets into bed first, scooching himself over to give Taehyung enough room. He pats lightly on the empty space next to him–another invitation. The hesitation is clear in the feline’s body language, even as he climbs in alongside Seokjin.
They’ve only done this once before–slept together in the same bed–back that first night after the movie. From then on, they’d never spoken about it, and Taehyung had seemed happy enough with his own space, so Seokjin let it fall to the wayside. But this is fine, right? Normal?
Taehyung exhales softly as he tries to settle next to Seokjin, using the elder’s extended arm in lieu of the pillow. Seokjin curls his arm around Taehyung’s shoulders, fingers toying with his mop of hair again. Just like before, soft purrs bubble up from the hybrid, and he seems to gain a bit more confidence, feeling more welcome. Taehyung presses himself closer to Seokjin, his own fingers curling lightly in the patterned pajama top.
Despite the fact that they’d only done this once before, Seokjin feels…content. Warm, even. He can feel sleep tugging at him once again, limbs loose and heavy as he begins to drift off. He has enough presence of mind left to ask after Taehyung–suddenly aware that he might have potentially forced this on the hybrid.
“Are you comfortable, Taehyung-ah?”
“Yes, hyung,” Taehyung whispers back. He drags his cheek against the sleeve of Seokjin’s pajamas and releases a soft sigh.
“You can say no,” Seokjin mumbles back, using the last bit of the effort left in his body to reach up slightly to pinch teasingly at one of Taehyung’s ears.
The feline huffs out a soft laugh, “I know. This is…good. I like this. Thank you, hyung.”
Seokjin can feel himself fighting to keep his head above water as he attempts to stay awake and process the weight he can sense in Taehyung’s words. Instead, all he can really manage is turn his head toward Taehyung, snuffling lightly at the mess of hair that invades his face.
“Goodnight, hyung.”
If you asked Seokjin about it in the morning he’d probably deny it, but he manages to press one soft kiss to the top of Taehyung’s head in response before sleep finally drags him under.