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The first catches him off guard—sweeps him off his feet, even.
Jimin and Taehyung must have already woken, because Hoseok’s the only one in the room when he rouses at the blare of his alarm. He taps it off on his phone, groaning, then checks the time. 7:30am. And the date. February 18, 2016. His grumpiness dissipates instantly. He stretches and smiles as he sits up, popping his back and letting out a content little moan. Twenty-two. It feels like a lucky number somehow. He climbs out of bed, languid and yawning as plods over to the window. He cracks it just a little, frozen winter air filling the room with the special smell of cold, and he inhales deeply—then strong arms are suddenly wrapping themselves around him.
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY HYUNG,” Taehyung bellows as he hugs Hoseok from behind, lifting him off the ground and shaking him around like an oversized ragdoll.
“Tae—” Hoseok gasps, air squeezed from his lungs, but he can’t help grinning. How can he get mad at an oversized puppy? “Tae, put me down!” Taehyung does and he receives a punch in the arm. Hoseok is laughing though, and Taehyung smiles widely.
“Jesus, don’t surprise me like that,” Hoseok scolds him goodnaturedly, pinching his cheek in punishment.
Taehyung takes it, trying to smile through his grimace. “Happy happy birthday! I love you, hyung!”
Hoseok laughs and lets go of his cheek, rubbing the redness away with the pad of his thumb. “Thanks Tae, I love you too,” Hoseok ruffles his hair. “Just try not to kill me before I can enjoy being 22.”
“Okay!” Taehyung agrees easily, then leans forward and plants a big, wet kiss on Hoseok’s lips. Taehyung is strangely shy about using tongue, but he has a habit of licking his lips, so there’s usually some kind of spit involved anyways. He cups Hoseok’s cheek as he mouths at his lips, pressing and smooching and sucking, all with Taehyung-ish affection and enthusiasm. He eventually pulls back with a loud, wet pop.
“Come to breakfast! Jin-hyung made something special.” He leaves Hoseok in the bedroom, a smile stretched across his swollen lips.
The second is casual, comforting—as natural as breathing.
“Happy birthday, Hoseok-ah,” Seokjin greets him as Hoseok enters the kitchen.
“Thanks, hyung,” Hoseok replies easily, but quickly finds himself awestruck when he notices the volume of dishes on the table. “Wait—did you make all this? For breakfast?” Their mornings are usually hurried toast, cereal, or simple rice and soup. Seokjin must have woken hours earlier to prepare it all.
“It’s your birthday breakfast,” Seokjin says, pushing a bowl of rice and a pair of chopsticks across the table towards Hoseok. “I only made enough for you, so don’t let Namjoon steal anything, okay? Jungkookie’s allowed to, though, since he helped cook.”
“Hyung, you really didn’t have to—”
“Don’t start with me, Jung Hoseok,” Seokjin laughs. He smiles, eyes tender. “I wanted to. Reward my work by eating a lot and getting healthier and stronger.” He ducks in to press a kiss to Hoseok’s forehead, nose, then lips. It’s soft and fleeting and gentle, and it feels like home. Jin smells like sesame oil.
“Love you, Hoseok-ah.”
Hoseok feels full and warm, and he hasn’t even touched the food yet. “Love you too, hyung.”
The third is pretty quick, but also pretty cute.
“Hobi-hyung, happy birthday,” Jungkook greets him as he settles in next to him at the table. Seokjin had left to take a shower, so Hoseok started breakfast by himself, eating and scrolling through the infinite stream of twitter birthday posts.
“Thanks kiddo,” Hoseok reaches over to tussle his fringe, but Jungkook dodges it.
“My hair looks good today, don’t mess it up,” Jungkook says, petulant. He fishes some chopsticks out of a drawer. “Jin-hyung said I could eat with you, right?”
“Yeah, you helped cook, didn’t you? What did I do to deserve such a thoughtful dongsaeng?” Hoseok grins, darting out for Jungkook’s hair again and reaching his mark this time. He successfully musses it, dark locks sticking up every which way.
“Hyung!” Jungkook says indignantly, patting his hair back down as he takes a seat at the table.
“It looked soft! And the stylist noonas are gonna do something with it anyways. Forgive me since it’s my birthday,” Hoseok smiles around a mouthful of food.
“You’re not allowed to use that excuse all day,” Jungkook throws him a warning look, then furrows his brow, cocking his head. “Hyung, you have rice on your face.”
“Oh? Where?” Hoseok sticks out the tip of his tongue and prods around his mouth.
“Left. No, my left,” Jungkook says, exasperated. “You know what, nevermind, I’ll get it for you.” The younger takes Hoseok’s chin, and he moves in to suck the rice off in a moment of soft lips and the swipe of a tongue. He draws back and licks his lips, glancing at the wet spot he left at the corner of Hoseok's mouth. “Got it.”
“Jeon Jungkook,” Hoseok coos, clutching at his chest. “You’re a dangerous man! Where did my sweet pre-debut baby go?”
Jungkook smiles to himself, looking a little pleased.
To be fair, the fourth is a little awkward. But that’s not unprecedented.
“Hoseokie,” Namjoon grins as he plods into the kitchen, all bedhead and cute dimples. “Happy birthday!”
“Thanks, Joonie,” Hoseok smiles, finishing off the last of his soup. Jungkook is still picking over what’s left of the other dishes, half eating, half reading a webtoon, and wholly not paying attention to Hoseok or Namjoon.
“Whoa, what’s all this? No wonder the dorm smells so good. Jin-hyung made you breakfast?” Namjoon asks, rubbing his hands together.
“He did, but he said you’re not allowed to have any,” Hoseok says, just a little smug as he sips another spoonful.
“Well, hyung’s in the shower. He doesn’t need to know,” Namjoon says, grabbing a spoon and making a dive for Hoseok’s soup. The birthday boy parries with his own utensil, then he grabs the bowl and promptly dumps the rest in his mouth. He stares at Namjoon defiantly, cheeks bulging to hold the warm broth as he starts swallowing it down.
But then Namjoon pulls Hoseok in with a hand at the back of his neck, slotting their mouths together. His lips are still chapped and warm from sleep. Hoseok’s mouth parts in surprise, rewarding Namjoon with a mouthful of the coveted soup. However, Hoseok also starts laughing, and ends up spraying the rest all over Namjoon, the floor, and himself. Jungkook startles and looks up in bewilderment at the scene, Hoseok snorting and coughing, and Namjoon sullenly swallowing the soup in his mouth before scowling at the mess on his shirt.
“Hyung, what the fuck,” Jungkook says, amused. Namjoon looks back at him with a defeated look, and Jungkook laughs. “Milk in the fridge is still good if you want cereal.”
Namjoon sighs as he peels off his soup-and-spit-soaked shirt. “Thanks.”
Hoseok is still half hacking up a lung, half laughing.
The fifth is his favorite, if only because it spoils him.
“Hyung, what happened?” Jimin asks, running into Hoseok in the bathroom. Hoseok is wiping himself down so he doesn’t smell like miyeokguk for the rest of the day.
“Namjoon happened,” Hoseok answers, tossing the washcloth into the sink, and Jimin nods sagely.
“I understand.”
“I think we all understand,” Hoseok grins as he pulls on a clean shirt. “But hey, do you know what day it is? Don’t you have something to say to me?” he bats his lashes.
Jimin looks at him for a moment, then Hoseok sees the lightbulb go on. Soon enough the younger has Hoseok entwined in a warm hug (and wrapped around his finger).
“Happy birthday, my favorite hyung,” Jimin smiles, petting Hoseok’s hair.
“February 18th is a blessing and a curse! It's the only day Park Jimin shows me any affection,” Hoseok pretends to cry and gets his hair pulled in return.
“I’m plenty nice to this handsy hyung,” Jimin says, indignant, pinching at Hoseok’s ear.
“Why don’t you love me like Jungkook,” Hoseok mock-whines and Jimin laughs before rubbing his earlobe fondly.
“Call me back when you’re as cute as Jungkookie,” Jimin says, but he leans in to press a soft, chaste kiss to Hoseok’s lips.
“Another,” Hoseok says, puckering again after Jimin pulls away. Jimin gives him a look, but complies, kissing Hoseok again. “Another,” Hoseok says again, snaking his arms around Jimin’s waist to keep him closer.
“This hyung is getting greedy,” Jimin smiles against Hoseok’s lips as he kisses him again.
“This is for all the love you’ve withheld from me while you were chasing our maknae,” Hoseok pouts, jutting out his bottom lip. Jimin kisses it, surprising Hoseok when his teeth catch on the sensitive skin.
“Aw, hyung, you know I love you best,” Jimin says, and his smile is sweet, but devilish. Hoseok grins. He loves this side of Jimin.
“Yeah,” he says, licking his lips before leaning in for another kiss, “I know.”
The sixth fucks him up a little. Or a lot.
By the time Jimin’s done with him and ducks out to eat breakfast, Hoseok is disheveled and a little heated. But he feels thoroughly spoiled and satisfied, so he washes his face with cold water, shakes it out, and gets dressed without incident. When Seokjin calls out a ten minute warning for the van’s arrival, Hoseok is already stretched out on the couch, watching the news on low volume.
Seokjin is slipping a water bottle into his bag, ticking boxes off his mental list when “Oh shit, ” he swears, and Hoseok looks up, startled.
“Hyung?”
“I forgot to wake up Yoongi,” Seokjin says, wringing his hands. “And I still need to help Joon-ah find his slacks before we go. Hoseok, I hate to ask on your birthday, but—”
“I can deal with the devil any day,” Hoseok grins as he hops up. “I was bored anyways. Don’t worry, hyung. I’ve got it.”
He doesn’t though. Yoongi is sound asleep, curled up under a pile of blankets, and he looks so peaceful and soft. Yoongi barely sleeps at home, always napping on any couch, chair, or floorspace he can find in a studio or broadcast station. And right now he’s warm and comfy in bed, hair splayed out across his pillow. Hoseok absolutely does not want to wake him.
He also cares about his limbs, and losing them is an occupational hazard when tasked with dragging Yoongi out of bed.
“Yoongi-hyung,” Hoseok calls gently, running his hand through Yoongi’s hair. The sleeping man moans under the touch, and rolls over to his side, still dead to the world. “Yoongi-hyung,” Hoseok tries again, a little louder as he pulls away one of the blankets, but it just gets grabbed back into a vice-like grip. Hoseok sighs, and decides twenty-two is an alright age to die.
He flicks on the light, yanks off the covers, and jumps up on the bed to straddle his (now groaning) groupmate.
“Yoongi-hyung! Wake up! Wake u-p,” Hoseok sings, bouncing up and down and slapping his hands on Yoongi's stomach. Yoongi leans up a little and Hoseok knows he’s in for it. He tries to prepare himself, but the glare he receives is so full of genuine hatred that he can’t help but backpedal. “Wake, uh, wake up, Yoongi-hyung, it’s my birthday? So you can’t kill me.”
The special occasion saves him. Yoongi’s head lolls back against his pillow as he sighs. “I can kill you, Hobi, make no mistake,” he says, voice rough and low from sleep. “Just not today, I guess. Get off.”
“Aren’t you going to wish me happy birthday?” Hoseok asks as Yoongi rubs the sleep from his eyes.
“Yeah, whatever, but you gotta get off of me first,” Yoongi says, and, with an unceremonious shove, gets his way. Hoseok whines and rubs his bruised tailbone as Yoongi sleepily pads out of the room and into the bathroom. The door slams behind him. Hoseok sulks as he nestles himself into Yoongi’s bed, opening twitter on his phone again. If Yoongi won't wish him a happy birthday, his fans will. He thumbs through the cute posts in his birthday tag, smiling at the art and photos and well-wishes. He doesn’t hear Yoongi plod back in until the elder snatches the phone from his hand and tosses it to the side.
“Hey—”
“I’m ready now,” Yoongi says simply, climbing onto the bed, then onto Hoseok’s lap. He smooths his hand through Hoseok’s hair before letting his arms fall loosely around Hoseok’s neck. Yoongi gives him a little grin. “Happy birthday.”
Yoongi tastes like spearmint and smells like vanilla, and Hoseok finds himself a little extra ensnared with his senses so full. Yoongi’s tongue is in his mouth, mapping the inside of his cheeks, his teeth, and Hoseok sucks on it, moaning a little. The fire he doused from Jimin flares again. Yoongi pulls back, panting a little, just to dive back in, fitting his open mouth onto Hoseok’s. He lets the birthday boy press in this time, fitting his tongue into Yoongi’s mouth with a wet, near obscene sound. He swallows Yoongi's minty breath, and he vaguely hopes his mouth doesn't taste too much like sesame—then Yoongi's teeth at his lip pulls him out of any train of thought. Hoseok gasps when Yoongi moves to fit his legs more snugly around Hoseok's hips. Yoongi is definitely grinding down onto his dick on purpose.
“You had something good for breakfast,” Yoongi says, almost accusingly when they part. The effect of his intimidating look is ruined by his red, spit-slick lips.
“Jin-hyung cooked,” Hoseok says, a little breathless. He’s half-hard and leaning in for another kiss when there’s a knock, and the door swings open. Hoseok groans. “Speak of the goddamn devil.”
“I’m an angel,” Seokjin says, miffed. “And the van is here, so you better climb off of Hoseok and put on some real pants, Yoongi-ah.”
“Sorry, birthday boy,” Yoongi sighs as he crawls off of Hoseok’s lap to pull some sweatpants over his boxers. Hoseok keens a whine, but follows Yoongi out of the room and to the front door.
“You can’t seriously expect me to do the whole schedule on my birthday when I have a boner ,” Hoseok huffs at Yoongi as the seven boys pull on their shoes.
“Boner?” Taehyung asks, eyes going a little wide. The look he gives Yoongi is best described as 'kicked puppy'. “We promised no sexy stuff until tonight,” he protests, voice pitching higher with betrayal.
“What sexy stuff tonight?” Hoseok asks eagerly, and Taehyung starts to answer until Seokjin clamps a hand over his mouth.
“We’ll tell you later. We don't wanna distract you during today’s schedule,” Seokjin says sweetly, then shouts and yanks his hand away when Taehyung licks his palm. He shoots him a look as he opens the door.
“Okay, but I’m already distracted,” Hoseok says, shifting uncomfortably at the tightness in his pants as the group trails out of the dorm. “Can someone blow me when we get to the studio or something.”
“I’ll do it,” Taehyung says instantly.
“Or I can do it,” Jungkook pipes up.
“Jungkookie,” Jimin says, looking scandalized (as if Jungkook hasn’t sucked his dick before).
Courtesy of the ever-fickle maknae line, an intense bout of bickering begins—much to Seokjin and Namjoon’s dismay. Yoongi looks on, amused.
“Don’t worry,” Yoongi says under his breath as he nudges into Hoseok’s side. “I’ll finish what I started.”
Hoseok is suddenly conscious of how dry his lips are. He swipes his tongue over them, and he revels in the filthy look Yoongi gives him.
Well, he thinks, covering his crotch with his jacket as their manager comes into view, Happy fucking birthday to me.