Work Text:
It’s Jimin’s little fingers plucking the cup out of his hands before it tips all over the floor that lead Jungkook to the conclusion that he may be a little drunker than intended. Which is not his fault, for the record. It’s just that there have been a lot of people at this particular house-warming party, all of Seokjin and Jimin’s friends—and his hyungs have a lot of friends. He’d only meant to crowd into this corner of the couch and hide in his glass of Jimin’s mystery drink for a little while, just until he was a little less overwhelmed, and now his cup is almost empty and it’s much later and he’s. Well. Possibly just a teensy weensy bit drunk.
He blinks up at Jimin. Jimin quirks his lips.
“You good, Kook?”
“Mhm,” Jungkook nods. The whole world bobbles about with him and he giggles, latching on to the arm of the couch so he doesn’t go toppling up to the topsy-turvy ceiling. Jimin raises an eyebrow and oh, interesting, there appear to be two of him. That seems right. If anyone was gonna figure out how to clone himself, it would probably be Jimin.
“Did you know you’re floating a little bit?” Jungkook asks. Jimin opens his mouth and closes it again.
“Okay, yeah,” he says. “I’m cutting you off. Water only from now on, kid.”
Not a kid, Jungkook tries to say at the same time he tries to say, Don’t want water, and it muddles up in his mouth, lips not quite working properly.
“Not a water,” he pouts. Jimin laughs at him, because he’s cruel and terrible and prone to the giggles, and then he hooks a hand under Jungkook’s arm and tugs. He exerts a surprising amount of power for such a tiny little man.
“I’ll kick your ass,” says Jimin cheerfully, so maybe he said that last bit out loud. Whoops. “C’mon, up. Need me to pour you a glass?”
“No,” Jungkook pouts harder. He’s not a kid and he can get himself water. He stands up and the room goes all centrifu— centripi— it spins a lot.
Yoongi would know the right word. Yoongi is so smart. Jungkook misses Yoongi.
“You can see Yoongi-hyung in the kitchen,” says Jimin, and then just like that they’re in the kitchen, which is brighter than the rest of the party out in the living room, although it’s not too much of a party now, sort of in that comfortable, fuzzy wind-down stage, music turned low, every available surface sticky and covered in abandoned cups. That’s nice. Jungkook likes seeing people sometimes but there were a lot of people, and the house isn’t that big. High people-to-floor-space volume. Ergo hiding on the couch.
Jimin deposits him near the sink. It takes him a couple of tries to figure out how to turn the tap the right way, and Jimin has to help him get the cup in the right spot, but he manages it eventually, wrapping both hands around the cup and drinking slowly.
“You’re going to have one hell of a hangover,” says Seokjin, appearing out of thin air and wrapping a hand around Jimin’s waist. Jimin tips his head against his shoulder.
“Am not,” says Jungkook, pouting at them over the lip of the cup. He’s going to say something else appropriately witty and clever, but then his eyes land on someone sitting at the table behind Seokjin and he lights up inside and out, because that’s his boyfriend.
“Cute,” snorts Jimin. Jungkook ignores him. His boyfriend is here and beautiful and sitting at the kitchen table talking to Hobi and Jungkook needs to be there too, immediately, posthaste, whatever posthaste means.
Yoongi lets out a huff of air as Jungkook places himself squarely in his lap, arm wrapping around his waist. Jungkook beams.
“Hi, hi hyung,” he says. Yoongi smiles back at him, a tiny little tick of happiness at the corners of his mouth.
“Hi, Kook,” he says, all rumbly in his chest. “Whatcha got there?”
“Water,” he says, glancing down at the cup. He’d almost forgotten about it. “Jiminie made me.”
“Jiminie-hyung,” complains Jimin somewhere behind him, but Jungkook isn’t paying any attention to him because Yoongi is here and warm and holding him and also he smells nice. Yoongi always smells nice but he smells especially nice tonight, all mellow and clean, which is so much better than the sour-sweet smell of beer and open drinks. Yoongi hums.
“Having fun?”
Jungkook nods, but that’s not entirely true, because— “Missed you.”
“I’m right here,” says Yoongi, like Jungkook is being a little silly, but also his arm tightens, holding Jungkook closer, so maybe not that silly. “Not going anywhere.”
Jungkook hides his grin in the warm, soft place between Yoongi’s shoulder and neck. It’s not like he didn’t know that before; he’s always known when it comes to Yoongi, which is why he asked, which is why he scraped up every little ounce of his courage and let Taehyung talk him into taking that last, final step. It’s just that this is new, sort of, the pet names and the arm around his waist and the way Yoongi chuffs out laughter against Jungkook’s ear like he wants to leave it there for only Jungkook to hear.
It’s honey-sweet on his tongue, golden and syrupy. Yoongi is his boyfriend, because he asked if maybe Yoongi wanted to be and Yoongi said yes he did. Does.
“How’s it going, JK?” asks Hoseok, and it would be rude to ignore his other favorite hyung, so he untucks himself. Yoongi nudges the water back up to his mouth and he drinks a little, blinking at Hoseok, who is watching him with an elbow braced on the table, grinning like a heart. Jungkook likes hearts. Yoongi makes Jungkook feel like a heart, like the cute bright cartoon ones and also like the one in his chest, all red and alive and pounding.
“Yoongi-hyung is my boyfriend,” he tells Hoseok very seriously, and Hoseok obviously understands how serious it is because he nods right back. Yoongi makes a low, whiny sound of embarrassment and blushes, which is just fantastic. Absolutely phenomenal. A little devastating, maybe. Jungkook giggles and pokes one pink cheek.
“Like your cheeks, hyung,” he says. “They’re pretty.”
“Aish, Kook, c’mon—”
“No,” says Hoseok, propping his chin on his hand. “No, let him talk. Tell us more about Yoongi-hyung’s cheeks.”
“Hob-ah—” says Yoongi. Jungkook thinks maybe it’s a warning but that’s too bad because talking about Yoongi is his favorite thing, actually, and more people should tell Yoongi about how wonderful all of him is all the time, and he’s absolutely going to take this opportunity to do so. Hoseok is so thoughtful to ask.
“They’re cute,” he shares, poking one again. “Like a dumpling. I want to bite them.”
“Do not bite Yoongi in my house,” says Seokjin from somewhere. Spoilsport. “Only one couple will be christening this domicile and it will not include Yoongichi.”
“It could,” says Jimin, and then he squeaks as though someone has pinched him very hard somewhere very tender.
“Kinky,” says Taehyung. Jungkook tips his head back to try to see him and nearly falls out of Yoongi’s lap, but Yoongi catches him just before he goes toppling over. Jungkook grabs his shoulders and giggles.
“Hi, hyung,” he says, still mostly upside down. Upside-down Taehyung grins at him, hands full of cups. Namjoon appears behind him with even more cups.
“Hi, Kookie. You good?”
“Yeah,” Jungkook nods, hauling himself upright again. Yoongi lets out another huff of air at the change, and Jungkook smoothes out the wrinkles of his shirt. He has nice shoulders too.
“Jungkook-ah is telling us about Yoongi’s cheeks,” Hoseok informs them. “You’re just in time.”
“They’re very good cheeks,” Taehyung agrees, emptying his arms in the sink. Jungkook is glad someone else out there understands. “I hope they’re getting the praise they deserve.”
“I’m going to bite them,” Jungkook informs him. “Not here though. Jin-hyung would be upset.”
“You’re damn right,” Seokjin agrees.
“That’s so cruel, hyung,” says Namjoon. “Let the boy bite his cheeks.”
“Not in my kitchen!”
“Please,” mumbles Yoongi. His face is all pink, and his ears too. Jungkook sort of wants to bite them as well but he thinks Seokjin might take even greater offense to that, so he refrains. “Stop talking about my cheeks.”
“Okay,” Jungkook agrees. That’s fine; there’s plenty of other things to talk about when it comes to Yoongi. There’s pretty much anything, really. Or everything. Both. He loves anything-and-everything about Yoongi because he loves Yoongi, and that includes all of the little bits and pieces that make him up. Like his cheeks. And his shoulders. And all the other parts too. “Your eyelashes are pretty.”
Yoongi sighs and closes his eyes and those beautiful eyelashes fan over his cheekbones. Jungkook raises his hand to touch them but he’s got a cup in his hand. Why’s the cup in his hand? Oh, his water, right. He tips the rest of it back and puts the cup on the table with all the others, lost in the mix. Someone snags it—Jimin, he thinks, maybe.
Anyway, now that his hands are free he can touch Yoongi’s pretty eyelashes, but Yoongi catches him first, fingers lacing together, which is also good. It’s great, in fact. Jungkook likes holding hands almost as much as Yoongi does and it’s especially great when they hold hands together. He traces over their knuckles where they fold up against each other.
“I like your hands, hyung. Thanks for holding my hand.”
Someone coos. Hoseok is beaming like his birthday has come early.
“This is sickening,” Seokjin says.
“Hyung,” Jungkook says, wounded, twisting around to stare at him. How could he say that? It’s Yoongi. Everything about him is perfect and beautiful and, and healthy. Not even a little bit sick at all. Seokjin makes a face at him.
“You’re one to talk,” says Yoongi mildly, chin perched on Jungkook’s shoulder, which is great. He’s got a great chin, pointy little thing, perfectly fit to hook over Jungkook’s shoulder or dig into his chest when they’re lying down in bed and Yoongi is too lazy to get up, and Jungkook doesn’t even mind. Maybe they’ll do that later. Maybe Yoongi will be his nice, big blanket, all broad and boney and perfect.
Jungkook leans back against him with a happy sigh. Jimin huffs and hands him a cup. It’s full of water.
“Drink it,” says Jimin, and it’s not good to argue with Jimin when he looks like that, so Jungkook does. He tries to hold it with both hands but Yoongi is still holding the other one, thumb sweeping over Jungkook’s knuckles, and Jungkook would sort of rather cut his own hand off than make Yoongi stop, because Yoongi loves holding hands and Yoongi especially loves holding his hands, and they’re boyfriends which means they can hold hand whenever they want, and Yoongi has such a nice hand for holding. He’s got such nice hands for everything.
“You said that already,” Taehyung tells him kindly.
“It’s true,” Jungkook mumbles into the water. Yoongi’s arm around his waist squeezes and then comes up to wipe at the little bit of water he’s spilled down his chin, and Jungkook flushes. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” says Yoongi, holding him again. He gives Jungkook a squeeze, reassuring. Jungkook takes another sip, more careful, letting Yoongi keep him steady. He’s so good. Sturdy and solid and strong.
“You should come to the gym with me,” he says. Then he could see Yoongi being strong, and also see his knobby little knees and his pretty pink elbows and also just watch him work out, which seems like a win-win-win in his book. “We can work out together.”
“I think I’d probably die,” says Yoongi, and Jungkook pouts.
“Ah, hyung,” says Namjoon. “You’re making him sad.”
“Sorry baby,” says Yoongi with a brush of lips against his cheek. “If you want, we can go to the gym together.”
Happiness glows in Jungkook’s chest and expands to fill every single little bit of his body. No more Jungkook organs or anything, just endless big squishy goopy warm happiness. “We can do boxing.”
“I’d pay money to see that,” says Taehyung. “I’d pay like, at least ten thousand won for that.”
“Is our love worth so little to you?” asks Yoongi. His mouth is fixed in a perfect rosebud pout, and Jungkook has to kiss it, he has to, just a sweet little peck.
Yoongi’s rosebud pout blooms into a smile, one of his real ones, like he’s all helpless with happiness, and Jungkook loves that even more. He’s dizzy with it, dizzy with how much he loves his boyfriend. His boyfriend!
“I love you,” he says, feeling far too big to keep inside. He’s still a little dizzy so he lets his head tip sideways against Yoongi’s, temple to forehead, and Yoongi’s hand smoothes up and down his back, soothing and broad and good. “Love you so much, hyung.”
“Love you too, Kook-ah,” says Yoongi, small and quiet and just for him, and maybe accidentally Hoseok because he’s sitting next to them looking pleased as anything with his phone out. Jungkook thinks maybe his sober self tomorrow is going to feel a little embarrassed about that, but only because he doesn’t like being the center of attention. Not because of loving Yoongi, not because of telling Yoongi all the parts he loves. He could never ever feel embarrassed about that, not even if Hoseok took a hundred videos. He’d yell it from the rooftop. He’d film his own video.
Oh. That’s a good idea. He hopes he remembers it tomorrow, when he’s sober.
“Hobi-hyung,” he says. “Remind me to remember something tomorrow.”
“Sure, JK,” says Hoseok, tucking his phone away. Jungkook hums and drops his head back to Yoongi’s shoulder, breathing in the nice smell of him, all wrapped up and comfy and cozy. He could fall asleep here. He might, actually. Probably will. He’s so sleepy.
“Drink a little more water, baby,” says Yoongi, so he does, but his eyelids are all thick and slow. Yoongi kisses his hair. Jungkook loves him so much. His boyfriend!
“Thanks for being my boyfriend, hyung,” he mumbles into Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi’s whole body shifts around him, like it’s holding him tighter, safer. Like he wants to hear Jungkook with every single inch of himself.
“Don’t need to thank me for that, Kook-ah,” he says, squeezing his hand.
“Okay!” Seokjin claps, loud, and Jungkook startles. “In the interest of not putting up guests for our night of christening—”
“You’ve been living here for two weeks,” Namjoon interjects.
“Yeah, I have it on good authority that this place is well christened,” says Taehyung.
“Gross,” says Yoongi.
“Don’t even start with me,” Seokjin says. When Jungkook squints at him he’s waving a threatening finger at Yoongi, but the scolding is sort of undermined by the way he’s standing between Jimin’s legs where his boyfriend sits perched up on the counter koalaed around him. Hoseok’s phone shutter clicks. “Yah!”
“I think what hyung is trying to say,” says Jimin, rubbing soothing circles over Seokjin’s chest, or feeling him up, or both. Probably both. “Is that it might be time for someone to get Jungkookie home before he falls asleep here.”
“You’d let me stay,” Jungkook pouts, and Jimin coos at him.
“Of course we would. But you probably won’t want to.”
“Gross,” Yoongi says again. Jimin’s grip on Seokjin tightens in the chest area.
“I’m tired,” volunteers Namjoon, even though he’s looking at everything with a wide-awake sort of interest. Jungkook hums. “Yoongi-hyung, do you need help getting him home?”
“Wanna go home with hyung,” says Jungkook, holding Yoongi’s hand tighter. He likes Taehyung plenty but he doesn’t want to go back to their apartment if he could be going home with Yoongi instead. He wants to do everything with Yoongi, always.
“Okay, Kook-ah,” says Yoongi. “We can do that. Gotta get off me, though. Hyung’s not strong enough to carry you.”
“That’s okay,” says Jungkook. “I can carry hyung.”
“Maybe not tonight,” says Yoongi, kissing his cheek and his hands where they’re linked before he helps Jungkook stand up. He’s not quite as wobbly, and the room doesn’t do pirouettes when he finds his feet so he thinks maybe the water has helped. He tips down the last of his glass, and Yoongi touches his elbow, fingers gentle.
“Okay?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I’m tired.”
“I know, baby. We’ll go home. Let’s find your shoes.”
They find his shoes under one of Seokjin’s plant stands, and Jimin and Seokjin see them off with cheer despite the late hour. Jimin ruffles his hair and Seokjin gives him a surprisingly gentle hug, not roughhousing at all.
“Hyung’s glad you’re happy,” he says in Jungkook’s ear before he lets go, and Jungkook has to blink something a lot like tears out of his eyes. Yoongi notices, face momentarily thunderous, but whatever Seokjin does behind Jungkook’s back must calm him down because he wraps a hand around Jungkook’s waist and leads him outside to the waiting car.
“Joon?” he calls. “Are you coming?”
“Actually, um,” says Namjoon, loitering near Taehyung. “You guys go ahead.”
Jungkook gives Taehyung a thumbs up and is rewarded with a shy, pleased grin. Then there’s a door opening and a lot of shuffling and he’s in the back of the car, watching their friends get smaller and smaller on the curb behind them.
“I can’t wait til that’s us,” he says, cheek smushed against Yoongi’s shoulder. The car rumbles under him, a gentle lullaby. Yoong hums.
“Awkwardly flirting and refusing to make a move? We tried that one, Kook-ah.”
“No,” Jungkook pouts. “Living together.”
Seokjin and Jimin seemed so happy. So so happy, like even when they were doing other things all that happiness was stuck to their edges. Jungkook can’t wait to have that. He’s so happy now and he only sees Yoongi most days. Seeing Yoongi every day? He can’t imagine anything better.
“We can flirt awkwardly if you want to, though,” he adds as an afterthought.
Yoongi’s hand brushes through his hair. “Sure. We can do both. We can do whatever you want.”
Jungkook hums. He likes the sound of that. “Love you, hyung.”
“Love you too, Kook. Sleep, baby. I’ll wake you up when we get home.”