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yoongi looks down at the table, and then at his boyfriend in front of him. he’s hidden behind the mass of their friends, all eagerly looking at yoongi as he stares down at the key in front of him.
“alright,” he says, deciding to give them the benefit of the doubt, “thanks?”
“aw, c’mon, hyung,” hoseok whines. “you could at least pretend to be happy about it!”
“i don’t know what it is,” yoongi says flatly, rubbing at his eyes. he’s been up for the last couple of weeks, working on a couple of new tracks. he wants to release a mixtape, but he doesn’t know when he should, or if his mixtape is even good enough. it’s like something’s missing.
“it’s the key to your own personal studio, hyung,” namjoon tells him gently, bringing him back to earth. yoongi blanches; he looks down at the keys, then at his members, eyes wide.
jimin whoops, having caught it on camera. “yes, yes! that’s the expression we wanted! i’m putting this on twitter, you guys!”
“i made your favorite for dinner tonight,” seokjin cuts in, waving away jimin and taehyung who are crowding up against yoongi on the other side of the desk. “so make sure that you come out of that room to eat it, okay?” he leans in closer for a second. “jungkookie spent two hours making you a cake. it was so cute - i took pictures. don’t make that hard work go to waste.”
jungkook is in the back now, laughing as jimin replays the clip on his phone. “he looks like a whale,” jimin snickers, and yoongi rolls his eyes.
he picks up the key in front of him. it’s newly minted, silver, and fits right on his keychain. his own studio room. no more having to share with sunbaes that would be too short with him, forcing him to use formal talk - no more namjoon throwing his crap on the floor and leaving it there for yoongi to step on - no more interruptions while he’s making music. it almost seems like a dream. the members must have spent ages trying to get this through.
“i want to see it,” yoongi breathes, and all of the members give each other a knowing look.
“remember what i said,” seokjin reminds him.
“jungkookie can take you!” taehyung crows, pushing jungkook from the back to the front. the youngest’s eyes widen as he stumbles. “he’s the one that you should be thanking, anyway?”
yoongi raises an eyebrow.
“uh, no, hyung - “ taehyung cuts jungkook off, patting him on the shoulder. cheerfully, he tells yoongi, “jungkook was on the manager’s case for a while about this, for you. he even cleaned the place!”
“hyung,” jungkook hisses.
“we all know you’re dating, it’s alright to be cute sometimes,” jimin says snottily, pinching him on the cheek. “go on, guys - i want to buy convenience store snacks!”
“me too!” taehyung and jimin skip off, racing each other to the door. eventually, one by one, they all leave the company room. seokjin and namjoon disappear off to the side doing whatever they’re doing, and hoseok leaves to head over for some extra dance practice. it’s only yoongi and jungkook left, standing side to side.
yoongi can’t help laughing at jungkook’s averted eyes; no matter how much he likes to act confident on stage, sometimes that confidence just disappears when he’s faced with something new, something foreign. yoongi, too, feels a little niggle of anxiety and excitement and maybe fear and maybe anticipation curling in his gut.
“so, are we going to go or not?” he asks, and jungkook startles.
“oh, yeah,” he says, tugging at his earring. he’s wearing a soft, powder blue button up and jeans that look very, very nice on him; yoongi’s eyes trail to his thighs before he tears his eyes away. “it’s on this floor, hyung, down the hall.”
yoongi thinks of jungkook baking him a cake in the kitchen, asking seokjin for directions, patiently following his instructions. measuring things with his skilled hands, his two front teeth biting into his bottom lip like he does when he’s focused, the little crinkle between his eyebrows. he memorizes the way it takes to get to his studio - labelled studio 13, something that he’s going to rename in the future for sure. jungkook motions to it, and yoongi holds up the key.
he’s the one to open it and take in the room. it’s wide and spacious, pristinely clean to the last dust mite. he already sees space for his things - for his laptop, his speakers, his notes, his folders, his books, his cds... he can already envision everything in this dimly lit room. there’s a soundboard and a microphone and a piano, places and cords for other instruments to get plugged in. on the side, in the corner, there’s a huge sofa, enough to fit three people lying down, at least, and it looks warm and comfortable. an afghan is perched over the sofa arm. the chairs - there are two of them - are made of shiny leather.
jungkook’s voice, soft and quiet in the room, “do you like it, hyung?”
“it’s fucking amazing,” yoongi chokes out. he sets his shoes on the little area for it at the door and heads inside, the smooth floor underneath his feet. jungkook is still untying his laces when yoongi sits back on one of the chairs at the soundboard; he already knows this is going to be his favorite place to stay.
“damn,” he runs a hand over the keys. “damn, this is amazing.”
jungkook sits in the other chair across from him, all the way at the edge while yoongi is already leaning back. he wrings his hands together. “i’m glad you like it.”
yoongi’s gaze turns to him suddenly. “right...you fought hard for this, huh?”
the top of jungkook’s ears turn red. “i mean, i just asked manager hyung and reminded him about it a couple of times - “
so that’s why; their manager is a sucker for jungkook’s pleading face. yoongi has always wondered how far it would get him; now he knows. he pushes the dials for a minute, feeling their industrial sleek newness underneath his fingers. he turns around to ask jungkook if he’d like to try out some of the music, maybe, when his eyes catch on the skin of jungkook’s wrists. he can see the blue veins underneath, so close against the surface. yoongi’s eyes trail up to his neck, where his collarbones are hidden beneath his shirt, the line of his jaw, his ears. he’s held still, suddenly, by the pale pinkness of jungkook’s bottom lip.
the younger notices the silence and blinks; “hyung?”
jungkook’s voice has always been one of yoongi’s favorites. calm, lilting, breathy. yoongi wonders how it would sound curling around the syllables of yoongi’s name.
“c’mere, jungkookie,” he says, beckoning jungkook closer. suddenly he’s glad for the privacy of the door, of the locks, of the lack of windows. the dimmed lights make shadows dance on jungkook’s cheeks.
jungkook’s mouth quirks up, confused. “i’m already sitting as close as i can,” he argues. their knees knock against each other whenever they move.
“no,” yoongi starts again, this time beckoning a finger forward, “come here.”
it takes a moment, but jungkook seems to realize what yoongi wants. the sound of the chair as he rises is screechy, but neither of them mind; yoongi leans back as jungkook brings both his knees up beside yoongi’s hips. suddenly he’s so close, the scent of him overwhelming and familiar; jungkook smells like the shampoo he used that morning and vanilla. he sits back lightly on yoongi’s thighs. the temperature is rising in the room, yoongi thinks.
he reaches forward, silently, and curls a hand on jungkook’s jaw. his thumb rubs small circles over jungkook’s cheekbone. the younger’s hand comes up to join him, his own palm covering yoongi’s. their hands are the same size; jungkook’s fingers are slender, unlike yoongi’s bony, knuckled, and callused ones. between them there is less than a meter of space. yoongi’s other hand is on jungkook’s hip, a thumb flicking in and out of his untucked shirt.
there’s nothing that’s said between them beside the sounds of their slowly shallowing breath. jungkook looks so pretty underneath this light; golden, spinning webs of shadows on the curvatures of his face, eyelashes dancing every time he blinks, eyes dark like obsidian. the problem with celebrities is that you get used to the beauty, to the glamor and the jazz; but jungkook is more than that. he’s the flowers curling in the morning and the sun in between the canopy of leaves. yoongi’s thumb moves from jungkook’s cheek to his mouth, the pretty dip of his mouth tempting him to run his thumb across the damp surface. he can feel jungkook’s breath on his fingers. within one moment and the next, jungkook takes his finger in his mouth, slowly, lips hollowed around yoongi’s thumb. he’s holding onto yoongi’s shirt loosely with both hands.
jungkook’s tongue touches the tip of yoongi’s finger, and his breath catches. the younger looks down at the bracelet clanking around yoongi’s wrist bone before he raises his own hand, his matching one flickering in yoongi’s vision before he pulls yoongi’s finger out of his mouth.
“happy birthday, yoongi,” he says, simple and slow, mouth forming the words like a promise.
“twenty-five years old,” yoongi breathes.
jungkook’s smile can light up the world. he leans forward and presses his forehead against yoongi’s. “you’ll always be young to me, hyung,” he says cheekily, before pressing his lips against yoongi’s.
at first it’s easy and soft, the weight of jungkook familiar on yoongi’s lap. then yoongi raises a hand to the back of jungkook’s neck and tilts his head and pulls him in deeper. jungkook’s mouth moves beneath his easily, changing with the movement. his hands move up to curl around yoongi’s neck; yoongi holds his other hand around jungkook’s waist so he won’t lose balance.
and then, then yoongi’s tongue swipes across jungkook’s bottom lip, and it all changes.
jungkook jerks, causing him to brush against a very sensitive part of yoongi down below. they break apart, so yoongi can catch his breath; jungkook, with his singer’s lungs, only smiles and laughs. he pulls the younger back in, this time a little bit more roughly, and jungkook just follows. he opens his mouth and yoongi gets a taste of jungkook’s sweetness, heavy on his tongue.
kissing jungkook is different from anyone else yoongi has ever kissed; it feels heady, threatening to be addictive, and yoongi is always, always drunk with the feeling.
he pulls in jungkook closer until their shoulders are touching, until jungkook is grappling at his back to keep them both from toppling over on the chair. it turns hot between them quick; yoongi’s hands go quickly up to his hair, tugging and pulling at the silky strands until the line of his neck is revealed. he presses mouth and teeth against the pulse of jungkook’s throat, at the junction of his neck and shoulder, at the hollows where sweat gathers. jungkook lets out little breathy moans, his hand sliding up yoongi’s shirt.
they’re both painfully hard, probably - yoongi knows that he is. it doesn’t take a lot for him to be aroused when jungkook is around. a little glance, a lingering touch, and yoongi will be imagining things better left to the mind and not for the screens. jungkook could smile at him a little too secretly, laugh just for yoongi, settle his head on yoongi’s shoulder, hug him from the side, and yoongi will be gone.
yoongi can write many songs about jungkook, he thinks. about jungkook’s giggling and his golden skin in the sunlight and the sweet flush to his face when he’s embarrassed and the loudness of his screaming when he’s playing around with jimin and taehyung. how he says yoongi’s name in between pillow sheets, half sleepy, half longingly, fingers curling around yoongi’s own in their bed.
“mm,” jungkook hums when yoongi’s licking at the bruises he’s left behind. “hyung, what are you thinking about? someone else?”
“you,” yoongi corrects.
“thinking about me while i’m already sitting in your lap?” jungkook asks, teasing, “something not enough for you?”
yoongi huffs. “you’ll be the death of me.”
jungkook licks at his bottom lip, leaving it red and shiny. yoongi stares. “do you want to - maybe?” his one of his hands is still hooked around yoongi’s waist, but the other moves down to yoongi’s jeans, to his belt. suddenly, yoongi feels the weight of jungkook’s thighs on his lap, his eager little looks, the way his hips are rocking just ever so slightly to leave yoongi on the brink of desperation.
“not in here, god,” yoongi laughs, but it’s airy and light. he brings jungkook’s mouth towards his again and presses a final, hard kiss against his mouth. “maybe in our bed, at home. what do you say?”
jungkook likes that plan very much. he heads out first, abruptly moving out of yoongi’s hold, laughing all the while. yoongi gapes at the gall of his boyfriend for a moment before snorting and getting up himself.
he looks down at the key, now on his keychain, as he’s locking up the studio. he wonders how much it is to make another one in a day or two. he likes the thought of having matching keys with jungkook.
walking down the hall and grasped by a sudden sense of playfulness, he slaps jungkook’s ass before the younger can realize his hyung has caught up behind him. jungkook’s yell of surprise is enough to spur yoongi into action and run away from him quickly, in a hurry to get out the door and go home.