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The bell above the front door tinkles whilst Yoongi is climbing down the ladder from the attic. He calls out for whoever has entered the shop to give him a moment, and struggles down the last few rungs, trying not to drop the ancient tomes he’s just retrieved. He’s left his wand somewhere again, so he can’t levitate them down.
When he finally makes it into the front room of the shop, there’s a young guy waiting at the desk. He looks up from the amethyst crystal he’d been inspecting by running his finger over the jagged edges, and Yoongi clocks the amber colour of his eyes as they widen in surprise. Werewolf.
“Welcome,” Yoongi says, dumping the stack of books on the counter, and then dusting his hands off on his apron. He really needs to get around to cleaning the attic one of these days, but there’s always other things.
“Hi,” the werewolf says, wringing his hands and glancing behind Yoongi as if someone else might come out from the back room. “Are you… Yoongi-ssi?”
Yoongi pushes himself up onto the counter stool he likes because it makes him feel like a proud dragon, perched atop their hoard, watching over their domain. Seokjin says it's because it makes him look taller than he really is and if he’s going to be an animal it should really be a cat, not a dragon. But Seokjin is a rude Hyung and must be ignored. “I am,” he confirms.
“Oh,” says the guy, voice pitching slightly higher.
Yoongi raises a brow at the odd tone, “Disappointed?”
The young wolf flushes, shaking his head quickly, “No no. It’s just that, well, Jimin Hyung made it sound like you were much older?”
Yoongi rolls his eyes. Of course he did, the punk. He’d probably also told Jungkook that he’d breathe fire if unduly disturbed. Always exaggerating, that Jimin. He’s only done that once, and it was an unfortunate side effect from the fireball whiskey he’d brewed, and sampled himself. And Jimin knew that!
He harrumphs to himself, but then thinks better of it and fixes the werewolf with a beaming smile. He’ll show Jimin. He’ll be so incredibly friendly that he’ll have to eat his meanie witch words.
“Well, I’m Min Yoongi. 29 years young and completely at your service, friend of Jiminie,” he says, as sunnily as he can manage whilst throwing his shoulders back so that (he hopes) his posture screams “welcome” too.
The guy laughs nervously, making Yoongi wonder if he perhaps smiled a tiny bit too hard. “Right, okay. Good. Hi,” the werewolf says, raking a hand through silky brown hair. Like a puppy, Yoongi’s mind supplies.
“Hello,” Yoongi responds, lowering the intensity of his grin by approximately 10%.
The boy fidgets, uncomfortable and unspeaking.
Yoongi gives up, smile dropping from his face completely as he leans on the counter comfortably. Being Jimin levels of friendly is exhausting. “How can I help you?” he prompts.
“Well, uh… So I’ve started dating recently,” he says, before shaking his head and correcting himself, “Well no, I’ve dated before of course. But that was before my first moon.”
The boy looks up at him sheepishly, like he just admitted something.
Yoongi stares back, listening for more.
The boy swallows thickly, “Right. So, I’m seeing these two fairies. Hoseokie Hyung and Taehyungie Hyung.” A glazed look passes over the young werewolf’s face as he says the names, which Yoongi recognises as puppy love. Yoongi chuckles to himself at the aptitude of the term for the situation, before his mind is thrown back to the cute puppy he’d seen on his morning walk to the bakery. And then that memory triggers the one of him placing his wand in the basket alongside his breakfast croissant.
Of course, the basket!
The basket in question is on the back table, and when Yoongi waddles over to it he gasps in delight at finding half of the croissant still left, as well as the wayward wand. He takes a big bite, reminding himself to finish the rest later, pockets his wand, and walks back to the counter. The werewolf doesn’t even notice his absence, too lost in his own little daydream.
“So you want a gift for them?” Yoongi questions through his mouthful, wondering why on earth Jimin sent this guy to him.
The guy shakes his head of the love spell, hand coming up to massage at his neck embarrassedly. “Not exactly,” he says.
“Okay,” presses Yoongi, swallowing the sweet pastry, waiting for more elaboration.
The werewolf lets out a nervous laugh, “It’s just that, fairies are, uh,” he coughs, “known to be sort of… spirited.”
“Spirits of the forest,” Yoongi says, edges of his lips turning up delightedly at his own little joke.
The werewolf looks at him, huge eyes seeming desperate, “Right,” he says. “And, well, werewolves. We have seasons, you know?”
Yoongi nods along. He knows a fair amount about werewolf traditions. Blood Moon, Harvest, Cleansing Gibbous, Elder Moon, he mentally checks off a list. “You must be at the Willow Moon,” he says, “So you want something to bless your intentions?”
The guy pulls at his lip, shaking his head frustratedly. His cheeks have gone from peachy pink, to blazing red. “No,” he whispers, “I meant.” He sighs loudly. It’s clear his frustration is with himself rather than Yoongi, which the witch is grateful for, because ultimately this young wolf is being annoyingly vague and if he himself hadn’t had a brew of chamomile this morning (and if the guy wasn’t so oddly endearing) he might’ve shamefully proven Jimin right.
“Not those seasons. I meant…” The werewolf looks around him, as if to check that no one else will overhear him in the empty shop, before he leans forward across the counter to whisper, “Breeding seasons.”
Yoongi can’t help but notice the cold sweat dripping from the boy’s forehead. He whips out his wand and summons a tissue from a nearby shelf, offering it to him, miming dabbing at his own forehead. The werewolf takes it with surprise, making his eyes take up seemingly over half of his face, “Oh, thanks,” he says, clumsily wiping at his brow.
“So, you’re trying for one of your partners to fall pregnant?” Yoongi asks.
The boy looks taken aback, “Oh, no. We’re not… That’s not possible for us.”
Yoongi mentally slaps himself. He shouldn’t have assumed. “Apologies, that was rude of me,” he says.
The werewolf shakes his head, “No, It’s fine. I’m… I’m being too vague aren’t I?” he chuckles to himself.
Yoongi nods. He really, really is.
“It’s just that… So fairies, right. They’re spirited as I said. But my two, especially-” he clears his throat again, “have a lot of stamina.”
“You get tired?” Yoongi asks, wondering if it was possible for a werewolf to have anaemia and then deciding it’s unlikely.
The guy blanches, “No!” he says defensively, “They’re just particularly energetic. Insatiable you could say.”
The cogs of Yoongi’s brain are turning slowly. This guy seems far too embarrassed about asking for a standard pick-me-up. Besides, he should probably try coffee or something before hitting the magical substances.
The werepuppy must take Yoongi’s furrowed thinking face as doubt, because he puffs his chest out proudly, “I’m an Alpha werewolf. Prime! I’m young and virile!”
The words echo in his brain. Young and virile. Realisation dawns on Yoongi.
“So you need help keeping it up?” Yoongi asks plainly.
Silence.
The guy’s chest deflates and he hangs his head as if in shame. “Yes, please,” he murmurs.
Yoongi rolls his eyes, turning to grab a clean vial off the shelf behind him and summoning his silver scissors from the chopping board. Why didn’t he just say so? He doesn’t understand why Allosexuals are so weird about sex.
“Sure, no problem. I’ll need a small piece of your hair please,” he says, sliding the scissors across the counter. “And if you could spit in this too.”
The guy perks up a little at Yoongi’s non-reaction. “This feels like a DNA test,” he jokes, picking up the scissors and snipping a piece of his fringe off.
“If it were for DNA, I’d need to pull the hair from the root,” Yoongi says. “And one or the other would have been sufficient. This is about getting the potion fine tuned to your aura.”
Too late Yoongi realises that he’s probably taken the boy too literally and given excess information again. People didn’t seem to like it when he did that. But rather than look bored or confused, the werewolf's eyes sparkle. “Cool,” he enthuses, dropping the hair into a small dish that Yoongi holds out for him.
Doe eyes, Yoongi thinks, as he hands the vial over for him to spit into. Doe eyes on a werewolf. The irony.
“My name is Jungkook, by the way,” the guy says after wiping his mouth of residual spit. “I probably should have opened with that.”
“Yeah, I don’t usually exchange spit with people without a name,” Yoongi jokes, more for Jungkook’s ease than anything else. He doesn’t tend to exchange spit with people in that way at all.
There was one guy back in school who he liked to kiss on occasion. But since then he’d been content without. Though sometimes he did find himself thinking about a certain pair of full lips, and wondering if they were as soft as they looked. Sometimes he even let himself wonder why it was only those lips that prompted such thoughts, when both Jimin and Seokjin had lips to rival them. But mostly he filed those thoughts away under, ‘irritatingly perceptive’ and ‘probably irrelevant’.
Jungkook scrunches his nose cutely at the joke, and his smile reveals adorable bunny teeth. Werebunny , Yoongi’s mind supplies.
“So, Jungkook-ssi, it should take me about one week to brew the potion. However, if there’s unexpected nighttime cloud cover in the next few days, it could take a little longer. If you write your number here, I'll text when it’s ready for collection.”
Jungkook nods, signing his name and number on the light blue, cloud shaped sticker that Yoongi attaches to his potion bottles, “I can cope until then,” he says.
Yoongi smiles tightly, preferring not to let his mind conjure details of that particular comment. “When it’s ready, you’ll only need a drop, placed directly on the tongue. It will be able to be used either as a precautionary measure, or as a mid-activity pick-me-up.”
“Daebak. Thank you, Yoongi-ssi.”
“Hyung is fine,” he says. “Any friend of Jiminie, is a friend of mine.”
Jungkook grins at him, flashing his bunny teeth once more, “Thank you, Hyung.”
Yoongi bows his head pleasantly in response, and Jungkook lets out a little giggle as he turns and leaves the shop.
~
He pushes the spoon through the potion in a series of zig zaggy swirls for the fourth time, eyes clenched shut and teeth clamped with strain. In his mind’s eyes he pictures three faceless people moaning in tandem as they touch each other. When he’s finished the stirring pattern he nervously peaks one eye open, only to see it hasn’t changed colours at all. He throws the spoon down in frustration and stomps over to his chair.
He’d only ever learnt about these sorts of potions in theory, and forgotten that the last step of the potion before moon development was to push sexual energy into it. The problem is that he doesn’t feel sexual attraction, and is actually slightly sex repulsed. He supposes he’s lucky the potion isn’t picking up on his disgust and incorporating that into the potion instead.
With a sigh, he picks up his phone and texts Namjoon. His best friend was always sharing tales of his sexual conquests with the group. Yoongi would tune out when this happened when he was around, which thankfully wasn’t too often because Namjoon was thoughtful like that. But Seokjin and Jimin made it obvious that Namjoon was some sort of sex crazed maniac.
So Yoongi hopes he can help him understand the allure of sensual touch enough to complete the potion.
Can I call? Namjoon types back.
Yoongi rolls his eyes. For anyone else the answer would be no.
Sure.
“Hyung,” Namjoon’s voice sounds winded on the other end of the line when Yoongi picks up the phone. “What’s up?"
“Why do you sound like you’re climbing a mountain?” Yoongi asks.
Namjoon chuckles, and then Yoongi hears what sounds like someone yelling in the background. Why are gym types always yelling?
“Are you in a battle? Does Hyung need to come and save you?”
“Send Jimin to save me, you mean,” Namjoon laughs, huffing a breath as he clearly heaves something large and heavy. Yoongi can imagine the way his biceps are sure to be bulging under his pretty, tan skin.
“Rude,” Yoongi says, curling his feet up underneath him. “I could definitely defend your honour in battle.”
Namjoon snorts, “Okay Hyung,” he says, straining, “I’ll keep that in mind next time someone questions it.”
“Good,” Yoongi says with a smile.
There’s the sound of Namjoon replacing whatever equipment he was using back onto a rack.
“So, you needed something?” Namjoon asks.
Yoongi sighs frustratedly upon thought of the potion. “Yeah,” he admits sulkily. “There’s this stupid potion I’m working on, but it’s not working for me. I thought you could maybe help?”
“Me?” Namjoon asks. “Why not Jimin or Seokjin Hyung?”
Yoongi definitely could have asked them, but Namjoon had been first to come to mind. Besides, he likes having an excuse to talk to his friend, not that he truly needs one.
“This seems more like a you thing. You’ll get it when I explain.”
Namjoon hums, “Alright. I’ll come over after I’ve hit the showers. That good?”
Yoongi tries and fails not to envision Namjoon’s wet hair, pushed back off his forehead, fresh out of the shower.
“Perfect.”
~
“So how do I help?” Namjoon asks when Yoongi has finished explaining the problem.
This gives Yoongi pause. “Just… Tell me what’s so good about sex I guess. I’ll keep that in mind when I’m working on the potion.”
“Okay,” Namjoon says, nodding to himself as he makes his way to sit down in his chair. “Well, it’s sexy, y’know?”
Yoongi fixes him with an unimpressed stare, “No Joon, that’s sort of the point.”
Namjoon huffs out a laugh, “Right, yeah of course.”
“Explain it in relation to the senses. I can try and imagine it like a scene from a book.”
“I mean, have you tried that?”
“What?”
“Reading some erotica.”
Yoongi nods. “It does nothing for me,” he says. “Apart from making me vaguely uncomfortable. And confused, actually. Some of the descriptions don’t sound physically possible…”
Namjoon laughs again. “Well, then why do you think this will work?”
“I don’t know!” Yoongi whines, “I’m desperate. The doe-eyed werebunny asked me for it, and I said I could make it!”
“Woah there. Alright, Hyung. I’m sorry,” Namjoon says, raising his hands defensively.
“I don’t like going back on my word,” Yoongi grumbles, pouting down at his lap.
Namjoon sighs again, “It’s like, really intimate.”
Yoongi looks up to find Namjoon resting his elbows on his knees, hands holding his forehead as he looks determinedly down at the floor. Yoongi hadn’t expected him to be so bashful, but he’s grateful his friend is trying harder to be helpful.
“Okay, intimate,” he repeats gently, taking the mental note and then thinking better of it and grabbing a notepad from the table to actually write it down.
“It makes you feel really close to the person in the moment. Like, obviously physically, but also emotionally.”
“Because it’s so vulnerable?” Yoongi asks, trying to follow.
“Yeah,” says Namjoon, “I guess.”
The concept of romance being linked to a physical act has always confused Yoongi. Why does participating in something that is essentially a really good massage, mean you love someone? But he can understand a shared vulnerability bringing people closer together.
“Okay, that makes some sense.”
“But what about horniness in general?”
Namjoon looks up at Yoongi, “Huh?”
“I need to encompass sexual energy, rather than the act. I need a feel for what horniness feels like.”
Namjoon gulps, “Like… desperation?”
Yoongi writes it down, thinking that Namjoon will elaborate, but he doesn’t. “Anything else? Because that sounds kind of bad if I’m honest.”
“I don’t know, Hyung,” Namjoon whines, “It’s hard to explain.”
“My, uh, my dick just gets really… Desperate. But like… it feels good.”
“Like an orgasm?”
“Like a precursor,” Namjoon says, “Have you, uh… have you?”
“Had an orgasm?” Yoongi finishes the question for Namjoon. His friend nods to confirm that’s what he was trying to ask.
Yoongi shakes his head. “Never felt the urge.”
“Okay, well it’s like a rush of tingly, hot, nice sensation,”
“Tingly, hot, nice,” Yoongi murmurs as he notes it down.
“So when you see someone you’re attracted to, you get that sensation?” Yoongi asks, quirking a brow.
Namjoon scratches the back of his neck, “I mean, yeah? Like a reduced version.”
“And that’s when your dick gets hard?”
Namjoon chokes on his spit.
Yoongi looks up from his notes in alarm, “You good?” he asks, reaching for his wand in his pocket, but it’s empty. He’s sure he’d…
“Ear,” Namjoon chokes out through his coughing fit,
Yoongi raises a brow, and Namjoon points desperately at his ear.
Yoongi reaches up to find his wand tucked away there. “Oh, thanks Namjoonie,” he says, flicking his wrist so that a glass fills itself with water and zooms across the room to him.
Namjoon takes it and drinks it down in large gulps. “Sorry,” he says eventually, putting the glass down on the table. “You just took me by surprise.”
“Kim Namjoon, getting shy?” Yoongi teases. “Seokjin Hyung and Jiminie are always on about how shameless you are. I’m surprised.”
Namjoon makes a strange noise like a strangled cat and it makes Yoongi take pity on him.
“I think you’ve given me enough to work with anyway,” Yoongi says.
“Really?” Namjoon asks, voice sweet and hopeful.
Yoongi holds in a fond smile. “Yep, I've got a physical sensation to focus on, and the intimacy stuff gave me a new perspective. I’m sure it’ll work.”
“Oh good,” Namjoon sighs, relieved.
~
It did not work.
Yoongi stayed up for hours that night, staring at the stupid amber mixture and thinking his sexiest of thoughts. He thinks he’s actually sprained his neck muscles with how hard he was trying. But nothing. Nada. Zilch. Not a damn thing.
So he does what he does best when perturbed with something. He ignores it. He puts the potion on the back bench beside the stale remnants of the croissant he forgot to finish, and the next day he goes about attending to all the less urgent tasks he has. And when he finishes those, he moves onto cleaning.
It’s nearing four in the afternoon when he’s interrupted.
“You’re annoying,” is all Jimin says to him as he materialises in the shop, making Yoongi jump. It’s something he’s told the younger witch time and time again not to do. He should use the front door like everyone else. It’s manners.
“Hi Jiminie,” he calls back sarcastically, “Nice to see you too.”
He’s in the middle of doing a long overdue cull of the ingredients fridge. Important enough to fool his brain into thinking it’s a fair substitute for working on the stubborn potion.
“You’re nice to everyone but me,” Jimin whines behind him.
“Categorically untrue.”
Jimin pouts at him. He doesn’t even need to be looking at the younger witch to know, such is the power of his friend’s sulking.
“I’m very nice to you. I always send you pictures of cute animals I see and I listen to the dramatic details of your weird married-not-married love life all the time. Plus, I reminded Seokjin Hyung to buy you that necklace for your birthday.”
“Oh!” Jimin exclaims sunnily, skipping over to Yoongi and going on tiptoes to press a kiss into his hair. Yoongi mimes vomiting.
“You’re the best, Hyung!”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, handing Jimin a bottle of unidentifiable slime, “Can you put this in the sink?”
Jimin levitates it across the room easily. Then, taking in the collection of other bottles and containers by Yoongi’s feet, rolls his eyes and sets about looking for the, evidently, lost wand.
“You should have a specific spot you put it in, Hyung.” Jimin lectures as he looks. “Or attach it to a lanyard around your neck, or get a tracking device for it, or something .”
“Sure thing, Jiminie,” Yoongi says, having no intention of doing any of those things.
Jimin huffs, switching to muttering under his breath about Yoongi instead.
“Aha!” he exclaims eventually.
Yoongi looks over to find him reaching behind the large stock of insect parts he’d been sorting through earlier.
“Gotcha!” Jimin taunts the wand.
“It’s learnt its lesson this time, I bet,” Yoongi says.
Jimin rolls his eyes as he walks over and hands the wand to Yoongi, who makes a show of putting it back safely in his pocket. Jimin’s jaw is set, unimpressed.
“So, I’m annoying?” Yoongi prompts, in order to avoid another lecture.
“Oh yes. So! Jungkook thinks you’re pretty and cute,” he complains, elbowing Yoongi over so he can help with sorting through the fridge.
“Not that I think he’s wrong,” Yoongi starts, making Jimin groan at him as reaches for a stoppered vial, opening it to sniff. “But I am surprised he noticed. Your little friend was a nervous wreck.”
Jimin hums, replacing the vial in the tube holder and taking the next one. “Jungkookie isn’t the best with strangers. Especially when discussing such delicate topics. But he said you look like a sleepy kitty and he wants to pat your head.” He says this while struggling with the stopper of the vial, tiny fingers pulling at the stopper determinedly.
Again with the cat comparisons. Dragon. Dra-gon. Not kitten.
“Like I’m the one who spouts fur and a tail,” Yoongi complains, “Which, by the way, I didn’t even know you had a werewolf friend!” He fixes Jimin with a judging look and then sighs holding his hand out for the vial. Jimin hands it over begrudgingly.
Yoongi makes a shoo-ing gesture at him, towards the little seating area against the far wall. “Don’t worry about this, it’s not important. I’m just avoiding something else anyway.”
Jimin nods, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his hands as he walks away from the fridge.
“You can sit in Namjoon’s chair,” Yoongi says, replacing the vial and then dropping to his knees to instead flick through the baggied herbs and blossoms he keeps in the bottom drawer.
“You mean the guest chair,” Jimin says pointedly.
“That’s what I said,” Yoongi says, waving his hand over his shoulder at Jimin distractedly.
“No you didn’t, you said-”
“Dried pineapple is meant to be brown right?” Yoongi interrupts, turning around with a small bag of pineapple rings held aloft, peering at it in suspicion.
Jimin sighs deeply, dropping down into the armchair. “Not really. I’ll bring you more tomorrow if you remind me.”
Yoongi nods, throwing the bag in the general direction of the bin.
“Use your wand!” Jimin cries, even as he levitates it the rest of the way for him.
~
This time Namjoon doesn’t shower before he comes from the gym. It should be disgusting. On anyone else Yoongi would think it’s disgusting. But the way Namjoon’s shirt sticks to his chest is very visually appealing, and, well, he’s mentioned how he feels about wet hair. Sweat or water, there really isn’t much difference.
He stands, hands on hips, drawing Yoongi’s eyes to the, quite frankly obscene, workout shorts the man is donning. “Do those even meet the gym’s dress code?” he asks, gesturing at them with a jerk of his head.
Namjoon looks down in confusion, and laughs seeing that the shorts have ridden up his thighs where they’ve caught on sweat soaked skin. He readjusts them quietly.
“So… the potion still didn’t work?” Namjoon asks. He knows this. Yoongi had complained at Namjoon over the phone about it, whilst he’d lifted boulders with his legs, or something. But he’s obviously changing the topic, so Yoongi lets him.
“Yeah. Got anything else for me?”
“Not really?” Namjoon says, voice going weirdly squeaky.
“Tell me one of your steamiest stories,” Yoongi says.
“Hyung,” Namjoon says, “That’s not going to help. That’ll just make you uncomfortable.”
Yoongi pouts. He’s all out of ideas otherwise.
Namjoon looks at him reluctantly.
Yoongi bats his lashes in a way similar to how he’s seen Jimin do on numerous occasions, mostly to Seokjin.
“You’re ridiculous,” Namjoon laughs, shaking his head as he moves over to his chair. “I’m not telling you a sex story. It won’t help Hyung, we both know it.”
He perches on the edge so as to not get his sweaty back all over the seat, which Yoongi is sure other visitors will appreciate, but there’s something weird and primal in him which wishes that Namjoon would do it anyway. He ignores it.
“But I have one more idea.”
Yoongi sighs, only slightly put out that his eyelash fluttering didn’t work as intended. “Lay it on me then,” he says.
“You should try doing something pleasurable,” says Namjoon.
Yoongi throws him a dark look.
“Not like that,” Namjoon clarifies quickly. “I mean, like, eating chocolate or massaging your head or something. Something that makes your body happy. You’re probably so stressed when thinking those thoughts that you’re not truly expressing the pleasurable energy.”
Yoongi worries his bottom lip, considering, then shrugs. “Sounds legit. Worth a shot.”
Namjoon claps his hands against his thighs and stands, “Good then,” he says, making as if he’s about to leave.
“Nuh-uh-uh! You’re not going anywhere, Kim Namjoon!” says Yoongi. “I have chocolate upstairs. We’re trying this now, and if it doesn’t work we’re brainstorming something else! Tonight’s moon will be perfect for charging, and I cannot handle another day of this, so help me Merlin!”
Namjoon falls back into the chair obediently. Yoongi beams at him before rushing up the stairs to grab the bar of chocolate, yelling at him not to tell Jimin he’s lost his wand again so soon.
It doesn’t take him long, but when Yoongi returns, Namjoon is no longer in his armchair, but is instead atop the ladder Yoongi uses to reach the topmost shelves in the shop.
“Kim Namjoon! Stop that!”
Namjoon holds Yoongi’s wand up with one hand, the other hand the only thing keeping him balanced on the wooden death trap. “What’s it even doing up here, Hyung?”
Yoongi quite frankly does not care. He just wants Namjoon’s feet firmly planted back on the safety of the ground. “Down! Down!” Yoongi urges, desperately beckoning Namjoon with his hand.
Namjoon rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath, but then stumbles on the next rung. It seems to humble him enough, as when he finds his balance, he makes his way down quickly, cheeks burning.
“You’re going to give me a stomach ulcer,” Yoongi says.
“And you’ll give Jimin one if you keep losing this,” Namjoon quips, holding the wand out to him, “And, from the sounds of it, Jimin is doing his best to afflict Seokjin Hyung with one. What a novel and fun group bonding activity we have going.”
Yoongi cracks a smile, taking his wand from Namjoon with a murmur of thanks. He then heads over to the cauldron, and goes to unwrap the chocolate.
“No, wait!” Namjoon says suddenly.
Yoongi looks at him over his shoulder questioningly.
“If we’re going to do this, we should do it properly,” he says, making his way over to him and taking the bar from Yoongi’s hands. “You close your eyes and start visualising something sexy, and start your magic mixing thing.”
Yoongi scoffs, but obeys. He repeats everything he’d already attempted the night previous. He tries to embody the feeling of love and intimacy of a shared vulnerable moment, and imagines the tingly feeling of goosebumps he gets when he gets a particularly good massage, or listens to a particularly heartfelt song. He can’t will himself into actually achieving it, but he tries.
“Okay, open,” Namjoon’s deep voice murmurs from beside him. So close his breath ghosts over Yoongi’s face. He seems to linger there for a while, and Yoongi almost opens his eyes to ask what’s wrong, but then he feels the cool edge of a square of chocolate meet his lips. He’s lucky that his arms have the stirring pattern down to muscle memory now, otherwise the jolt of surprise would have made him mess it up.
He opens his mouth, tongue poking out slightly to taste the edge of the treat. Namjoon pops the confectionery into his mouth, skin of his fingers grazing Yoongi’s lips lightly.
“Sorry,” Namjoon says softly.
Yoongi shakes his head as he sucks on the chocolate, rich flavour exploding on his tongue at the same time as butterflies erupt in his tummy. The hair on the back of his neck even stands up. He breathes deeply, reminding himself, as he has many times before, of the completely platonic nature of their relationship as he enjoys the way the chocolate melts into nothingness.
Focusing on the physical sensation he’s experienced, he does his best to conjure a sexual scene to mind. As he does, he stirs the potion for another cycle of the pattern, and then opens his eyes, completely expecting to see the amber liquid turned to a fresh pink. But nothing has changed.
He frowns, shoulders slumping. “It’s impossible,” he says, throwing the spoon into the sink.
“It didn’t work?” asks Namjoon sympathetically, “I didn’t know what to look for.”
Yoongi nods sadly. “It’s meant to go pink.”
“Ah. Damn.” he says, “It’s a shame I can’t just do it for you.”
Yoongi rounds on Namjoon, eyes alight. “That’s it!” he says excitedly.
Namjoon looks taken aback at the sudden mood change, and Yoongi wants to click his fingers in front of his eyes and tell him to keep up.
“Huh?” says Namjoon.
Yoongi rolls his eyes, impatient to get started now that he’s been given the idea. “I mean you do it!”
Namjoon frowns, looking between Yoongi and the cauldron. “Would that even work?” he asks.
Yoongi, high on the energy of a fresh idea, bounds over to the sink to retrieve the spoon once more. He rinses it off and practically skips back to Namjoon with it held out. “I don’t see why not. It’s an ingredient like any other. I’ll just push my magic through you.”
He’s met with puppy dog eyes and his heart lurches a little bit at the adorable sight. “But… Will it hurt?” Namjoon asks in a tiny voice.
The question makes Yoongi laugh fondly, shaking his head. “No Joon. It won’t hurt.”
“It’s not a weird question!” Namjoon defends, “Remember when Jimin got his cousin to help with that potion for his Aunt’s stomach flu and it singed the guy’s eyebrows clean off!”
“That’s totally different, Jiminie did that on purpose because his cousin is a scumbag.”
“Oh. That makes sense.”
~
So they try.
And it’s awkward.
Yoongi can feel tension radiating from Namjoon, and there’s decidedly nothing happening to the potion.
“Uh, Joon? You need… help?” Yoongi says, glancing at his friend from the corner of his eye. He promised not to look, even though Namjoon isn’t actually touching himself or anything. He’s just thinking sexual thoughts.
Hyung!” Namjoon exclaims, voice cracking, as he suddenly takes two long strides back from the cauldron, dropping the spoon inside with a metallic clang. The movement makes Yoongi’s hand drop from where it had been perched on Namjoon’s shoulder, pushing his magic through him.
“I’m just saying…” Yoongi says, tapping his hoodie pocket and miraculously finding his wand tucked away where he last remembered it being. He uses it to retrieve the spoon, floating it down onto the counter and then turning to lean against it. He gives Namjoon a look he hopes conveys a lack of judgement. “I get that it’s probably hard thinking horny stuff with me watching over your shoulder.”
“You said you weren’t watching!” Namjoon interrupts, looking scandalised.
Yoongi’s hands fly up in front of him in defence. “No no, not literally,” he says, “I was staring at the shelves I promise. I just meant that I’m right next to you - hand on your shoulder. It’s fine if you want to watch a video or something to try and forget that. Immerse yourself or whatever. We can prop your phone up on the table there.”
Namjoon stares back at him, blinking slowly as his chest rises and falls. His ears and neck are growing steadily redder by the second. “Y-yeah. Okay. That might help,” he says finally, shoulders slumping in resignation.
He pulls his phone out and taps away at the screen for a while before walking back to the counter and leaning his phone against a bottle of squid ink. The title flashes up on the screen where the video is paused.
Hottie Milks Seed Out His Hot Rod With Her Tiny Feet
Yoongi really shouldn’t, but he can’t help himself. “Really?” he asks, genuinely surprised, “That’s what you watch?”
“Don’t kink shame me!” cries Namjoon, voice reaching squeaky tones Yoongi didn’t know his deep voice was capable of. He’s trying to cover his face with his hands, but he’s already picked up the large mixing spoon, so his red cheeks are clear.
Yoongi feels bad - his friend is doing him a big favour after all. “I’m not,” Yoongi says, moving back to Namjoon’s side and placing a hand on his shoulder gently. “Just surprised is all,” he murmurs. He’s never been compelled towards porn himself, so his knowledge is limited, but if asked he wouldn’t have pegged Namjoon as a foot guy.
“Well, be surprised silently please,” Namjoon says testily. Yoongi might be back to looking at the bookshelf, but he can envision the face his friend is pulling perfectly in his mind. He smiles to himself.
There’s silence between them after that. The quiet moans and slick, wet noises that emanate from Namjoon’s phone are the only sounds filling the shop. Yoongi is suddenly glad he had the foresight to lock the door - he doesn’t need customers waltzing in on this particular magical process.
Yoongi feels Namjoon’s shoulder tensing, and he can only sense stress in his aura. He sneaks a glance over his shoulder and sees Namjoon’s lips pursed, and a heavy frown on his brows. It’s definitely not a look of arousal.
“Joon, turn it off,” Yoongi says, stopping his flow of magic.
Namjoon clicks the screen off and sighs in relief. His aura immediately relaxes.
“What’s going on?” Yoongi asks.
Namjoon turns to him slowly, looking guilty. “Bad video?” he tries.
Yoongi crosses his arms over his chest and stares blankly. Namjoon is clearly lying, but Yoongi has no idea why.
Namjoon’s composure breaks and he pushes his hands into his face. “I didn’t want to let you down, Hyung,” he whines.
Let him down? Yoongi thinks. He’s really not following.
“What?”
“Idomgtfeezectoolrakchun,” Namjoon says, voice so muffled by where he appears to be attempting to suffocate himself, that Yoongi can’t understand him.
“Without your fist in your mouth would be helpful, Joon,” he says.
Namjoon sighs deeply, like he’s resigning himself to it, but then yells into his hands, releasing his anxious energy. He suddenly brings his head up to meet Yoongi’s gaze, like nothing happened. His chin is pushed out in determination.
“I don’t feel sexual attraction either, Hyung,” he says firmly. Like if he didn’t put all his power behind them, the words would refuse to leave his mouth.
They echo around in Yoongi’s brain for a while, but no amount of bouncing against his synapses is helping them make sense. “Huh?” he says, furrowing his brows and tilting his head at his friend.
Joon clears his throat, “I’m ace,” he says. He nods his head as if assuring himself as well as Yoongi, “I’m asexual.”
Yoongi lets his eyes drift to the floor as his mind replays all the stories he’s heard about Namjoon, either directly from him, or secondhand through Seokjin and Jimin. He searches for traces of hints but can’t find them. “But all those times…” he murmurs.
“I was lying.”
He looks back up at Namjoon, face scrunched up with the force of trying to process. “Why?”
“Because people expect it of me,” he shrugs. “I don’t know, it all got so out of hand. I told one sex story years ago and after that it’s like that’s what I was known for. I didn’t know how to change that narrative, so I just played into it. It’s… It’s stupid. ” he says, beginning to grasp at his left bicep with his hand in a way Yoongi recognises as a typical Joon anxiety response.
Immediately his heart drops into his stomach - it’s his reaction that is making Namjoon feel anxious. He doesn’t want that, no matter how confused he is.
So he takes a deep breath to calm himself slightly, relaxing his face. “Your feelings aren’t stupid, Namjoon,” he says.
Namjoon peeks up to him from where he’d started inspecting the floor of the shop, arm still clutched in one hand.
“I mean it,” Yoongi says, looking up directly into Namjoon’s eyes in a way he doesn’t do very often. “Hyung is sorry for the interrogation.”
Namjoon shakes his head, “It makes sense for you, of all people, to be confused. And I sort of led you on a wild goose chase over the last two days.”
Letting out a small huff of laughter, Yoongi steps forward and gently pushes Namjoon’s shoulder to make him turn. “That you did,” he says, walking past him to where his tea cauldron sits, and pulling their mugs from the shelf above. Namjoon gets the hint and follows, dropping into his armchair.
Yoongi is quiet as he makes them both a brew, making sure Namjoon’s is syrupy sweet and milky like he prefers - the heathen. When he’s done he carries the tea tray over to the small table that sits between their chairs, placing the steaming cups down. Then he summons a box of biscuits from his bedside table upstairs. They were a gift from his Eomma when she visited recently, and he’d kept them up and away from his visitors' grabby hands. But he could make an exception.
“Thank you for telling me,” he says.
Namjoon scoffs sadly. “A little too late.”
“No,” Yoongi says seriously, “Never too late. Just, in your own time.”
Across from him, Namjoon smiles down into his teacup. They drink their tea and munch on biscuits together in companionable silence. And when they’re done, Namjoon follows Yoongi over to the sink where he’ll clean the cups. He slings himself across Yoongi’s back, hunching down to tuck his chin over his shoulder.
“Thanks, Hyung,” he says.
Yoongi feels his heart rate speed up. As close as they are, the two have never been in the habit of sharing physical affection. Yoongi generally doesn’t like being touched without warning and a good reason, and Namjoon respects that. But the witch knows, from the way he’s seen him curl into Jimin’s arms like a man much smaller than the 6ft beefcake he is, that Namjoon is comforted by touch.
So he allows it. Enjoys it even, once his brain stops the Code Red alert. Namjoon is warm, and although he smells like baby wipes and deodorant from where he’s freshened up after the gym, Yoongi thinks it’s actually not too overwhelming at all.
He lets out a steadying breath and hopes he doesn’t sound too stiff when he eventually tells Namjoon that he’s welcome. That he wants him to know he can talk to him.
“I know,” Namjoon murmurs, arms snaking around Yoongi’s waist and heaving a satisfied sigh. Like he’d been waiting to see if he'd be shaken off before fully committing to the back hug. “Hyung is the best.”
“Joon-ah,” Yoongi whispers, not moving from his spot facing the tiled wall above the sink for fear of the moment ending too soon.
“Hmm?” Namjoon hums. Yoongi feels the vibrations through the fabric of his shirt and it definitely doesn’t send goosebumps down his arm.
“That armchair across from mine. Whose is it?”
Namjoon unhooks his head as if to look at the chairs and check, and Yoongi immediately misses the contact. Feels colder.
Namjoon’s voice comes from above Yoongi when he replies simply, “Mine.”
Yoongi gulps, mouth feeling dry. Yeah, it is, he thinks, mentally swiping away the image of Jimin’s smug little face.
And before he can go too far away, Yoongi turns around and grabs Namjoon’s hands, carefully interlocking their fingers. He looks up at Namjoon with a small smile. “Okay?” he asks.
Namjoon looks down at their linked hands and then back at Yoongi’s face, warmth oozing from his brown eyes as they crinkle up with his smile.
“Okay,” he says.
~
Yoongi asks Jimin to finish the potion off for him. It had always been the more logical option, but sue him, he wanted an excuse to spend more time with Namjoon.
And by the time that Jungkook comes to pick up the potion, with two ethereal men in tow, Yoongi has purchased a third chair for the little corner where he sees guests. He’d had to magically expand the surface area of the floor to achieve it, but it was worth it.
Now there was a chair for guests, Yoongi’s chair and Namjoon’s chair.
In the coming months a lot of things in Yoongi’s place would quickly become Namjoon’s. The bowl with the green squiggle painted into it - because Namjoon said it looked like a dancing caterpillar. The squishy cartoon cookie cushion on his couch that Yoongi had always thought looked vaguely murderous, but Namjoon claimed was vastly misunderstood. The dressing gown that he’d accidentally ordered in two sizes too big but had kept because it had frogs on it. The last hook on the key rack. The two largest bath towels in the laundry cupboard. The second drawer in Yoongi’s bureau. The left side of the bed.
His heart - though perhaps that had been Namjoon’s for a while.