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In hindsight, Yoongi probably should never have allowed Hoseok to drag him from one house party to the next. Maybe they shouldn’t have left the second house party they’d crashed; it was exactly Yoongi’s style, no awkward, obnoxious dancing in the middle. It was the complete opposite of Hoseok’s style, though, so with a firm look, he dragged Yoongi by the circle of his wrist, and proclaimed that one way or another, they’ll wind up completely trashed.
That’s it, that’s the goal for the whole night. Never trust Hoseok for substantial plans because the only thing that matters to the idiot is getting from point A to point B, point A being sober and point B being incredibly fucking wasted.
They literally bumped into Namjoon and Seokjin on their way out of the second house, and without even saying a word, Hoseok had just slung his arms around their necks and proceeded to drag them alongside him, laughing loudly into the cold night air.
Yoongi had trailed behind them, an empty cup of in his hand and a sinking feeling in his stomach.
Jeongguk ends up joining their little group, the poor freshman dragged behind Hoseok.
“Jeongguk shouldn’t be drinking,” Yoongi points his beer bottle at Jeongguk who’s unmistakably red in the face.
“Says who?” Jeongguk counters, hiccupping a little bit. “I can drink at a party, hyung,”
Hoseok gives his head a little ruffle and behind Yoongi, he hears Seokjin sigh heavily.
“If your head splits in two, don’t blame us,” Yoongi pauses to take another long swig of his beer before adding, “Blame Hoseok, not the rest of us.”
His warning is waved away with Jeongguk turning away from him to clamber out of the door, his grin eager and bright as they all stumbled out of Namjoon’s car.
At this point, Yoongi would like to emphasise the hazards of drinking and driving, but Namjoon hasn’t started spewing philosophical, existential-crisis inducing shit, so Yoongi assumes that he’s sober enough to pass a sobriety test. And they didn’t die on their way, too, so that counts as something.
“I can’t see anything from back here, whose house is this?” Seokjin asks, clambering out from the backseat.
Hoseok peers at the familiar double doors and the orange light spilling from the windows, and rocks back on his heels. He’s looking directly at Yoongi now, an eyebrow raised in a little taunt, and his smile twisting enough for a smirk, “We’re at Taehyung’s and Jimin’s place.”
--
Yoongi shouldn’t have tipped those four shots of gin into his mouth back at the previous house party because his head feels like it’s not even connected to his shoulders anymore, his sight going a little bit blurry when he starts to stare at something for too long.
Hoseok is beside him, arm locked with his and dragging him down the narrow corridors, their footsteps heavy against the thick carpet. The others follow behind them, Jeongguk bouncing on the heels of his shoes and Seokjin’s smile all too easy now that he’s gotten a few more beers into his system.
Namjoon, well, Namjoon is fine, for now, and Yoongi hopes desperately that the boy stops drinking because they really don’t need to hear another long, drawn-out monologue about how insignificant they are in the grand scheme of things, and shit, hyung, what if we’re all already dead and these are just realities our subconscious brought up because we couldn’t quite let go of a little piece of our living selves?
That conversation had happened over two weeks ago, Namjoon speaking down on all of them from his spot on top of the kitchen table. His speech was spurred by Taehyung and Jeongguk’s gasps and exclaims of surprise, Jimin close beside them and constantly nodding, because apparently, Kim Namjoon had made perfect sense to them.
Namjoon had, inevitably, fallen off the table when Hoseok aimed a plastic bowl at him and he ducked away, trying to avoid it. He fell instead, and that was that (though the bruises and sore hip the next day were reminders of his own stupidity, one Yoongi had only laughed at without any trace of pity or mercy).
“Hyung,” The voice pierces through his quiet musings and before Yoongi can even blink back into focus, Hoseok has slipped away from his side and a different pair of arms wrap around him, brown hair pushing into his face and ticking his cheeks.
One arm goes around Jimin in a responding hug, patting him on the back a little bit awkwardly. Behind Jimin is a grinning Taehyung who reaches for Yoongi, too, his arms going around the two of them, his cheek pressed against Yoongi’s.
“Get the fuck off me,” Yoongi finally breathes out, extracting himself out of their hug and stumbling a little bit when he takes a few steps back. “Don’t smother me, I’m here to drink, not to die.”
Taehyung laughs brilliantly like he’d just said the most profound joke, ever, in the universe. “Shots!”
Jimin smiles with his teeth bared and Yoongi has to pinch his cheeks to get him to drop it, “Shit, don’t scare people like that,”
The others are already slipping out into the garden where a single round table stood in the middle of the patio; at least half a dozen of liquor bottles in the middle, and three cases of beer stacked one on top of the other just under the table.
With only seven of them to drink all of that, it’s sufficient to assume that they’ll all die from alcohol poisoning even before the sun had time to rise.
“Where’s everybody?” Seokjin asks, looking around the small garden (amazing, he thinks, for the two clumsiest and messiest pair of friends ever to find time in their equally messy lives to tend a garden). “Is it just us?”
Hoseok spins his chair around, the back of it facing the table, and then plops down, feet swinging from under the table. He kicks Namjoon a little ways in front of him and Namjoon shoots him a glare and a pointed, I will cut your fucking leg off.
“Yeah, we can’t believe you didn’t come here directly,” Taehyung distributes shot glasses to all of them – his method of distribution being: sliding the glass from his spot on the table to everyone else and breaking one in the process when it misses Jeongguk’s hand and lands on the ground. “We were about to start without you!”
Judging by Jimin’s flushed cheeks and Taehyung’s even louder voice than usual, and not to mention their constant giggling, Yoongi assumes that they’ve already had more than just a few shots in their system already (and wasn’t that an empty bottle of vodka in the kitchen sink when they’d walked in?).
“Can I mix the drinks?” Hoseok asks, hands making to grab for a bottle of coke and vodka. “Please let me do it,”
Namjoon scowls at him and Seokjin slaps his hands away.
“No, what are you even trying to mix with coke and vodka? That’s disgusting, I’m not here for sweetened liquor,” Namjoon uncaps the same bottle of vodka Hoseok had been aiming for and tips the first shot into Seokjin’s glass. “I’m here to drink the liquefied version of hell, so none of your stupid mixing, it’ll probably end up poisoning us, anyway.”
Yoongi thinks that the yelp from Namjoon is because Hoseok’s foot had connected with his shin from under the table again.
“Jung Hoseok,” Namjoon says through gritted teeth, eyes watering from the pain, “Once I drink this whole bottle empty, I’ll shove it up your – “
Whatever his threat is, it’s interrupted by Seokjin’s nervous laughing and the flailing of his arms, “Wow, wow, anyway, let’s start.”
Everyone snaps out of it and turns away from what could have been a murder scene, quietly breathing sighs of relief because they’d all just escaped becoming involuntary victims to a crime scene that was wholly unnecessary and only brought about by one petulant Hoseok.
Taehyung jumps from his seat and forces out a laugh, “Wow, hyung, you’re really eager to get drunk,”
Namjoon takes the first shot without waiting for them and throws Hoseok a dirty look after, “If you pass out in the middle of this, I swear I’ll tie you naked to a tree,”
Jeonguk bumps glasses with Taehyung and quickly follows after Namjoon’s prime example, the two younger boys faces turning bitter for a full second from the alcohol.
“Alright, that’s a challenge,” Hoseok smiles radiantly at Namjoon and downs his drink in one shot. He’s already pouring himself a second even before Yoongi finishes his, and by the time Seokjin had gulped past his first shot, Hoseok is already pouring his third.
The alcohol burns in his throat and Yoongi almost retches from it – fuck, fuck, fuck, he really shouldn’t have pregamed so hard (all Hoseok’s fault, he snaps to himself) – but he swallows past the burn, his hand slamming on the table carelessly, and the glass clatters off to the side.
Jimin catches it before it skids off the table, laughing as he slides it back to Yoongi, “Woah, that’s intense, hyung,”
He feels Jimin’s shoulders brush against his, the boy shaking a little bit from laughing so hard, and from across the table he locks gazes with Hoseok, an unmistakable glint in Hoseok’s eyes that instantly makes Yoongi feel uneasy.
There are many, many things one must avoid saying when one’s out drinking with this particular group of people, and maybe it’s just the alcohol talking or Jimin constantly laughing by his side, but Yoongi forgets about all precautionary rules and randomly blurts out, halfway into their second bottle, that he’s sure he’s kind of drunk already.
Hoseok’s hands slam against the table, startling Namjoon and Taehyung from either side of him.
And then he grins.
It’s absolutely terrifying, Yoongi thinks.
“I have an idea,” His words are a little bit slurred already and far too loud at this time of the night. “Why don’t we play a game? All we’ve done is drink – “
“And made too much fun of Namjoon hyung,” Taehyung supplies from beside him.
“ – And made Kim Namjoon the occasional butts of most of our jokes, but what about we do something else?” Hoseok grabs a beer from the cooler and stares at it for a few seconds, his train of thought loss at the sight of a new drink.
Seokjin clears his throat, prompting him to continue.
He nods absently at the beer and then turns back to look at the rest of them, “Let’s play a game.”
“What, like, wanna play a game?” Jeongguk’s impression of the horror movie character is so spot on, his voice rough and low, that Yoongi’s brows furrow in confusion, a look of complete shock on his face – and mild terror, too.
“What the fuck?” Hoseok scowls at Jeongguk’s idea, “Do you want to kill all of us?”
Jeongguk settling back down on his chair and not providing a definite answer to that question kind of sends chills down Yoongi’s arm.
“Anyway, let me continue. As I was saying, remember we used to play truth or dare all the time?” There’s a collective groan from the rest of them and a couple of protests from Namjoon. “And remember the “of course” game?” Namjoon is earnestly kicking the table now and Yoongi lifts his shot glass off the table to save it from spilling.
“Stop it, stop it,” Taehyung hisses, three different open bottles cradled in his arms. “We’re not wasting drinks we paid expensive money for.”
Hoseok’s voice is loud and booming, and also quite exasperated already when he demands that everyone shut the fuck up and listen because Christ, this explanation could’ve been done and over with in ten fucking seconds, god damn you all.
“Right, thanks for shutting the fuck up, everyone. As I was saying – we play a hybrid version of the of course game. If you say “of course” to a question, assumption, whatever, then you have to do it.” Hoseok finally plops back down into his seat, a satisfied look on his face as he takes a long swig from the beer.
“What if someone asked if you’d help bury a body in this garden,” Jeongguk interjects, a look of genuine confusion on his face. “Does that mean I have to do it? Where do I even find a body to bury?”
Yoongi leans away from Jeongguk and ends up pressed against Jimin’s side. “Jeongguk, what the hell?”
Jeongguk just shrugs, unconcerned yet again, “What, I was just asking.”
It’s Seokjin who provides a solution to the problem, “How about we just do the dare the same way we ask the questions? Example, I ask Jeongguk if he’ll ever, in the foreseeable future, be involved in a murder crime, and he’ll say “of course”. And if someone actually wants to see Jeongguk bury a body, then you can just ask him to do it and say, Jeongguk, will you bury my neighbour’s remains in the park a few blocks away? If he says ‘of course’ to that, we might have to call the police.”
“We might have to call the police on the bastard who’s got his neighbour’s remains in a pot, too,” Namjoon adds, looking pointedly at Taehyung.
It must be the drinks because whatever they’re saying, it’s making perfect sense. Jimin’s arm burning through the sleeve of his shirt isn’t making perfect sense, though, and Yoongi starts to regret the terrible decision of sitting beside him.
“This is messed up,” Jimin says, not at all terrified at the prospect of either of his best friends digging six feet deep into the ground. “Let’s play,”
Hoseok raises his beer into the air for a single cheers, his eyes catching Yoongi’s own when he raises the bottle back to his lips, and god, that’s a mischievous and utterly terrifying glint in Hoseok’s eyes that actually makes Yoongi fear for his wellbeing.
Never voice out how drunk you are because that’s only going to lead to even more drinks, because you’re friends with terrible people who make terrible life choices, who forces you into their mistakes, too, because that’s what friends are for – apparently, friends are for sharing the same hangover the next day and moaning about it up until the afternoon.
The game starts off easily enough and Yoongi relaxes back into his chair, finger tracing around the rim of his glass as he listens to the first round of questioning.
“Kim Namjoon hyung, is it true that you’re rotting inside?” Jeongguk asks, voice perky and his grin positively grinning.
“Can I say ‘fuck no’?” Namjoon asks, looking at Seokjin.
“You can, but then you have to do Jeongguk’s dare,” Seokjin supplies, passing Taehyung another bottle of beer.
Namjoon groans, “Alright, you little brat. Of course,”
Jeongguk takes a shot for that.
“Hoseok, I heard you liked to touch yourself while listening to The Weeknd,” Namjoon shoots, his smile dripping with venom.
Hoseok pours Namjoon another shot and answers easily, “Of course. Who doesn’t?”
“Christ,” Yoongi breathes out, tipping a shot into his mouth. “I didn’t need to know that, honestly.”
Seokjin refusing to say “of course” to Jimin’s assumption that he wears shoulder pads under all his clothes results in him attempting to climb the only tree in the garden, his hand gripping a branch tightly while a leg wrapped haphazardly around the trunk.
He falls on his ass after another minute and Jimin falls off his chair from laughing too much.
The game continues.
“Yoongi, how drunk are you?” Hoseok asks carefully, his eyes flashing and his smile calm and absolutely angelic.
“Enough,” Yoongi grinds out, glaring at him.
“Is it true you lose weight by dancing to difficult girl group choreographies?” Yoongi almost chokes on the beer he’d been drinking at the question.
Jimin exclaims loudly beside him, “Seriously?”
Yoongi’s glare is acid and absolutely burning, his tone of voice threatening the slowest death when he says, “Of course.”
Hoseok is all too eager to gulp down his drink at the admittance.
“Jimin, I measured you while you slept. Apparently, you’re only five feet and one inch tall,” Taehyung says, grinning smugly at him.
Yoongi is surprised when Jimin sputters out three “no’s” in quick succession, his head shaking vehemently.
Taehyung’s triumphant cry rings all around the table and Jimin hesitantly downs his shot, face screwing up from the bitter taste.
“Listen,” Hoseok pulls Taehyung close to him and leans down to whisper something in his ear, their dubious smiles identical.
When they pull away, Taehyung mouths “okay” at Hoseok and looks to Jimin again, his smile not angelic in the least. He looks conniving, even.
“Get on with it,” Jimin feigns unconcerned but judging by the shake in his voice, Yoongi is sure that Taehyung’s smile has done its job in unnerving him.
“Could you sit on Yoongi hyung’s lap for the next round?” Taehyung asks him nicely, eyes wide and pleading, the look on his face a complete turnaround from the almost devilish glint in his eyes not five seconds ago. “I mean, I could ask you to scale the walls of our apartment, but I think this dare is safer, don’t you think?”
Jimin’s brows furrow together and he blinks at Taehyung for several moments, his hands clenched into small fists on top of his lap.
Beside Taehyung, Hoseok is smiling at Yoongi, slow and sweet, and behind Yoongi, the whole world fucking crashes.
“Okay,” The word comes out quietly and so soft that at first Yoongi doesn’t pick up on it. And then Jimin says it again, this time louder and for everyone else to hear, “Okay.”
All eyes are on their side of the table as Jimin pushes off his chair and heads to Yoongi, one light hand resting on his shoulder. (Jimin’s touch burns through his skin now, Yoongi realises.).
“Can you move a little bit away from the table?” Jimin waits until there’s enough space for him to sidle up on Yoongi’s lap, the table far enough that his knees don’t knock against the surface.
Yoongi’s mind is completely blown blank, the only thing solid and certain, and actually happening is that Jimin is on his lap, sat with his back to him. He’s also pretty sure that Jimin had just guided his hands around his waist to settle comfortably on his stomach, and, fuck, fuck, fuck.
Jimin squirms a little bit on his lap for a few seconds and stills when he finally gets comfortable, his sigh of relief so obvious with Yoongi’s head perched on his shoulder. (And Yoongi definitely doesn’t think about how, if he’d just tilt his head to the left, his lips would graze against Jimin’s neck, no, he doesn’t think about that all, especially not when Jimin is sitting on his damn lap.).
“Cosy, boys?” Hoseok asks innocently.
“Take a picture,” Seokjin whispers, elbowing Namjoon sharply to the side. “Yoongi won’t even remember this in the morning and we need proof.”
Five different phones point to their direction and five flashes go off seconds apart from each other, blinding Yoongi for a little bit.
“I’m going to bury you all,” Yoongi’s threat falls on deaf ears because nobody is threatened by Yoongi and Jimin practically cuddling on top of each other, and especially not when Yoongi’s voice is as threatening as a kitten’s meow.
“Can we just – “ Jimin’s fingers tighten around a bottle of vodka. “Continue?” And instead of pouring himself a shot, he drinks by the bottle, head shaking and body slumping forward at the shock of the alcohol.
Yoongi holds him steady, his arms locked around Jimin’s waist.
It’s so fucking weird and Yoongi is definitely not blushing.
“Jeongguk, I heard your first roommate kicked you out because you wouldn’t stop jacking off into a sock,” Namjoon’s laugh is loud and barking at his own question, and beside him Seokjin groans.
Jeongguk rolls his eyes, “Of course, hyung.” And then after a few more seconds, he adds, voice dripping with false honey, “You’re really good at this game, Namjoon hyung.”
Namjoon takes two shots, infuriated at the boy, and Hoseok laughs to his side, nodding appreciatively at Jeongguk.
The rest of the game goes by without anybody doing any dares – Taehyung had only been one “of course” away from jumping out of the second story window and everyone had been, at that point, one second too late in thinking that Jeongguk gets a little bit scary when he’s drunk (Seokjin had protested that breaking a leg isn’t an ideal dare, Jeongguk, what the hell?). – and Jimin’s weight on top of him has become comfortable, the boy warm and soft to the touch, his hair tickling Yoongi’s face (and Yoongi is trying really hard to look annoyed but he’s got a feeling he isn’t succeeding very much).
The look in Hoseok’s eyes send cold pinpricks down the back of Yoongi’s neck because he just knows that no good can come out from that mouth.
“Yoongi hyung,” Hoseok is rolling a bottle of beer under his open palm, amusement trickling from his smile. “Do you think you can make out with me?”
Jimin almost falls off his lap when Yoongi rocks forward suddenly, almost choking on a small peanut. He drags Jimin back onto his lap, hands properly secured around his waist and holding him steady, and looking over Jimin’s shoulder with the most scathing look in his eyes, Yoongi scowls, “Why the fuck?”
It’s exactly the answer that Hoseok is expecting because he doesn’t flinch at all, “Sorry, let me rephrase that. How about Namjoon?”
Namjoon knocks his empty shot glass to the side at the shock.
Yoongi blinks at Hoseok, the alcohol mixing with frustration already. Involuntarily, his fingers dig gently into Jimin’s shirt, the younger boy leaning back into his touch at the sensation.
“Sorry, sorry, I meant to ask if you’d do it with Seokjin hyung,” Hoseok continues, eyeing Seokjin who’s the only one relatively close to sober at this point in the night.
No reaction from Yoongi prompts Hoseok to swing an arm around Taehyung, giving the younger boy’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, “Taehyung? I hear he kisses really well,”
Taehyung laughs beside Hoseok and Jeongguk points to himself and asks, “Hyung, what about me?”
Yoongi glares at Jeongguk, his sneer barely held back.
Hoseok is shaking his head in fake confusion, his, “Oh, sorry, I finally remembered my question,” ringing sharply in Yoongi’s ears. “Hyung, would you make out with Jimin?”
He feels Jimin stiffen on top of him, the boy’s stomach going taunt. Yoongi suspects that Jimin’s holding his breath because he doesn’t hear a sharp exhale or even a deep intake, and he doesn’t feel the rising of his chest, either.
Slowly, Yoongi meets Hoseok’s eyes and, with his flush spreading down to his neck, he says, the words bit back and sharp, “Of course.”
Belatedly, Yoongi thinks that he could’ve gotten out of it with a lie, but he’s drunk after four previous house parties and one too many bottles of liquefied hell, and his mouth is faster than his brain (and Yoongi just really, really wants to smack that smug look off of Hoseok’s face.).
The whole table is quiet but Jimin starts to breathe again, short puffs of air that come out laboured the longer he’s sat on Yoongi’s lap.
Yoongi thinks too late about Jimin on his god damned lap and how close they are because, shit, Yoongi had run his mouth too much and too fast to even think about the repercussions of his little slip. But this is a game, he thinks, this is just a silly, innocent little game.
He hopes Jimin thinks it’s just a game, too.
(But a small part of Yoongi is also hoping against it because he’s harboured this painful, painstaking crush for three fucking years already so maybe now’s a good time to get it out? Finally?)
Nobody addresses Yoongi’s sudden confession, and instead Jeongguk asks, “Jimin hyung, do you like being on top of Yoongi hyung?” The innocence in his wide eyes is betrayed by the smirk on his face. “I mean, sitting on top of Yoongi hyung?”
Jimin’s reply comes in a sharp nod, the back of his head almost colliding with Yoongi’s forehead.
“If you two were to kiss right now,” Taehyung glares at Jeongguk for stealing his line of questioning and then leans across the table to look at Jimin, head tilted playfully to the side, “You and Yoongi hyung, I mean - not Jeongguk, gross - would you kiss him back?”
It’s Yoongi’s turn to hold his breath. He ducks away from the amused and bordering on mischievous glints in all their eyes and presses his face into Jimin’s back, breathing in deeply – he can smell the traces of alcohol clinging to Jimin and under that is the smell of mint and rosemary. It’s the smell of his shampoo, Yoongi is all too giddy to realise.
Jimin stutters out his “okay” and Yoongi notices the tips of his ears rapidly turning red. “I mean, of course,”
The whole table explodes in jeers and rousing laughter; Hoseok bent over himself and absolutely cackling; Taehyung’s arms around his middle and holding himself steady as he shakes from laughing too hard; Jeongguk snickering behind a fist; Seokjin raising an eyebrow at the both of them but laughing softly when he ducks his head, and Namjoon clapping his hand, head thrown back in laughter.
And Yoongi’s hold around Jimin tightens a little bit more and Jimin leans into his touch, his hand soft when he puts it over Yoongi’s.
Seokjin breathes out the only word that everyone’s been holding on to, his eyes flashing knowingly at Yoongi and Jimin when he says, affection clear even in just the one word, “Finally.”
Hoseok punctuates it with, “Yeah, shit, fucking finally,”
Yoongi watches as Taehyung starts to get up, teeth biting down on his bottom lip to stop himself from grinning too much. “Let’s move back inside, it’s getting cold out here,” He gathers four bottles into his arms and with a wink that Yoongi assumes is for Jimin, turns around quickly to scamper back into the house.
Jeongguk helps Seokjin haul the cooler full to the brim with beer, and Namjoon drags Hoseok out of his chair, the boy refusing to leave until he gets at least one more photo of their stupidest friends.
“Take it inside,” Namjoon hisses into his ear, dragging Hoseok by the back of his shirt.
A minute ago the garden had been filled with their friends teasing jeers and laughter and now it’s absolutely quiet, the only sound disrupting the quiet of the night Jimin’s soft, even breathing.
“We should go inside,” Yoongi mumbles, but he doesn’t move to get up.
Jimin turns his head to look at him, eyes wide and expectant, and his cheeks so pink Yoongi wonders if it’s really all from the alcohol. “Hyung, would you really kiss me?”
Yoongi’s hand settle comfortably on Jimin’s hip, the other one grabbing for Jimin’s. “Maybe,” Yoongi says, voice soft and quiet. He tugs on Jimin’s fingers and clasps loosely onto it when Jimin doesn’t pull it away. “Okay, yeah, I would.”
Jimin’s laugh is loud and tinkling when he slides off of Yoongi, his hands automatically going around Yoongi’s shoulders to pull him up with him. “Okay,” Jimin says, smiling at him, his fingers locking behind Yoongi’s neck.
They’re drunk but the cold evening air helps in sobering them up, even just for a little bit.
Yoongi smiles into Jimin’s touch and wraps his arms around Jimin’s waist (and his arms are on fire now because everywhere he touches Jimin is too hot).
“Do you want to kiss now or tomorrow morning?” Yoongi asks, nosing gently against Jimin’s cheek.
“Sure,” But instead of pulling away, Jimin ducks down to press a quick kiss to Yoongi’s mouth, his grin wide when he pulls away. “Pre-game,” He explains, his eyes twinkling with delight.
--
Yoongi is woken up in the morning with light kisses that trail from his forehead and then down to his cheeks, soft fingertips tracing the edge of his jaw.
His head feels like it’s about to explode but Jimin is warm and comforting beside him, one leg hooked around his ankle.
“Good morning,” Jimin greets, blinking sleepily at him. “I feel like I’m going to die,”
Yoongi snorts out a laugh and instantly regrets it because of the painful pang that rips through his head, his headache making him want to either sleep for the next four days or bang his head against the wall.
“Run me over with a truck,” Yoongi groans, face turned to nuzzle into the crook of Jimin’s neck.
Somewhere from upstairs, Jeongguk’s voice, heavy with sleep and painful from the obvious hangover, calls to them, “Shut up, my head is about to go into labour,”
Yoongi has a feeling that Namjoon had fallen asleep in the bathtub again because his voice echoes and bounces on the walls when he yells, “That’s an Athena reference! At least someone was paying attention to me last night,”
“Fucking shut the fuck up, what’s wrong with you?” Hoseok yells, voice cracking and desperate. “I should’ve slept in the damn car,”
The smell of coffee fills the house, instantly shutting all of them up, and Seokjin walks out of the kitchen, a cup of coffee cradled in his hands, and the most amused expression on his face as he surveys the wreckage, “You’re all out of hand,”
Under a pile of blankets and pillows that Yoongi had thought was nothing but a pile of blankets and pillows one of them had discarded by the stairs, Taehyung declares, “Coffee.”
--
Yoongi and Jimin’s actual first kiss is two days after.
The headache from that terrible, god awful idea of a fun night is finally over and when Yoongi twines their fingers together, it’s not the alcohol that’s making his head feel light or blurring his vision.
Jimin pulls him into a kiss, the fingers of his free hand tangling into Yoongi’s hair and pulling him in even deeper, and when Yoongi responds eagerly into it, presses even closer to Jimin and opens his mouth, Jimin hums, a soft vibration that makes Yoongi feel like melting, then and there.
When they pull away, a little bit breathless and pink in the cheeks, they’re both smiling, Jimin’s fingers tugging gently at his hair.
“That was nice,” Jimin presses a kiss to the edge of his mouth, so close and absolutely teasing Yoongi now.
Yoongi rubs his thumb idly on Jimin’s knuckles and smiles, leaning in for another kiss when he says, “Of course.”