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Every night since Seokjin has been back from tour, Taehyung has spent it in his bed. Usually, they all try to spend their evenings in different beds, some going to sleep late into the night while others dose off earlier in the evening.
Namjoon, Hoseok, and Yoongi are most likely to stay up late, hard at work on lyrics or occasionally producing new beats. Sometimes it leaves Seokjin to watch the younger ones—like they’re children, and often times, he thinks they still are—keeping them company while their hyungs work.
Not that he doesn’t contribute, or the others don’t, but Namjoon’s pen has always been the compass guiding them home. Seokjin, meanwhile, seems to be a glue holding them together. It had been for Jimin, who had texted him every day while he was gone in the military, only missing days when he himself enlisted. For Jeongguk, who barely spoke a word when he left but he could see his eyes brimming with tears beneath his hat.
But most of all for Taehyung, who often spent nights in his bed before back when they lived together, and most certainly does so again now.
It starts as it usually does—with a polite knock and Seokjin’s bemused smile. He doesn’t even need to give Taehyung permission to enter, the younger man walking in a second after providing notice of entry. “Hyung?” he asks softly, and Seokjin just lifts the sheets in response.
Taehyung crawls beneath them, Seokjin wrapping him in his arms as he feels his bandmate breathe him in. “Couldn’t sleep?”
“No, I probably could.” Taehyung yawns. “Missed you.”
“I’m ten feet away from you, Taehyung-ah.”
“And?” Taehyung wraps an arm around Seokjin’s waist, nuzzling into his neck. “Too far.”
Rolling his eyes, Seokjin plants a kiss into Taehyung’s hair. “Go to sleep, you little shit.”
But like most nights. Taehyung doesn’t want to sleep. He wants to talk, to listen to the adventures Seokjin had on his tour, to hear him talk about the people he met and the places he saw. It’s been so long since they got to do it together, he figures Tae just wants to live vicariously through him. “No, I want to hear more.”
“Taehyung…” Seokjin’s voice is a little more stern as he pulls back, Taehyung’s face mere inches from his as he presses a finger against his nose. “I’m sleepy. Maybe in the morning.”
Even in the dark, he can see the pout that ensues.
“If I kiss you, will you wait?”
Taehyung nods, his lips finding Seokjin’s a moment later. They’re soft, if slightly chapped from their excursions on the beach, and he tastes like sea salt—and like home.
Arms wrapping around Taehyung’s body. He pulls him in closer, fingers carding through his hair as Taehyung’s lips part over his. Their lips move lazily, casually, both of them too exhausted to escalate it further.
But it’s nice, the comforting scent of Taehyung, the familiar edges of his body, he’d missed this. In all the chaos of the last three years, they’ve had scant few moments to be together, and that’s not just him and Taehyung—it’s all of them. Sometimes he can’t believe they’re real anymore, like they’re something really good that he dreamt up.
In this moment, though, Taehyung is indisputably, wonderfully, real. Hands gripping the younger’s hair, he rolls gently on top of him, soothed by the feeling of Taehyung’s body heat beneath him. A soft little moan, deep and rich, escapes his bandmate, and Seokjin giggles against his lips as he kisses him deeper.
Taehyung’s head tilts back, almost like he wants Seokjin to kiss his neck, his chest, or other places, but he refuses. “Mm mm,” he whispers against Taehyung’s lips, kissing him again. “No funny business.”
Another pout, barely visible in the dark. “Why not?”
“Honey, you’re about to fall asleep,” Seokjin reminds him, brushing Taehyung’s hair back from his face. “In the morning, okay?”
“Okay,” Taehyung whispers, then he kisses Seokjin one last time, and lets himself be scooped up into his arms.
One arm serves as Taehyung’s pillow, the other holds his waist, his chin tucked above the crown of Tae’s head. “I love you,” he promises, and Taehyung grumbles something that sounds suspiciously like I love you back, against his neck.
Wrapping a leg around Taehyung’s, Seokjin presses a kiss to his hair, then he sighs. “Goodnight, Taehyung-ah.” But Taehyung, twice as exhausted as he’d claimed to be, has already fallen asleep in his arms.