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It starts when they’re five.
Yoongi is playing with his new lego set alone, piecing the robot together, when his mother ushers a young boy into his room.
“Yoongi, this is Namjoon. He’s Aunty Joohyun’s son, and he’s also five. You finally have someone to play with!” His mother sounds awfully cheery, and Yoongi stares at Namjoon suspiciously, scrunching his nose. Sharing really isn’t his strong suit, but if he doesn’t share his toys, he’ll get in trouble. Namjoon looks like he’s harmless, really. Yoongi doesn’t really have many friends his age, so he hopes they get along okay.
With a slight smile, Yoongi nods, “okay, Eomma.” What could go wrong?
“Oooh, what is that?” Namjoon says, walking over as Yoongi’s mother leaves the room. Three seconds later, disaster strikes.
Yoongi’s nearly-finished robot is crushed by Namjoon as he trips over a stray lego piece, arms flailing and hitting Yoongi square in the face. Suddenly, punches are exchanged, and Yoongi pulls Namjoon’s hair as Namjoon kicks his stomach. Wails soon erupt and the two adults in the living room rush over, finding them in a tangled, writhing pile of flying fists.
Eventually, Yoongi’s mother forces him to apologise to Namjoon, whose bottom lip is still trembling. Yoongi might have also gotten an apology, but he knows he shouldn’t have trusted Namjoon the moment he stepped into the room. People with big eyes and pouty lips are not always nice.
~
The next time it happens, they’re eight.
They’re both going to the same elementary school. Yoongi’s in a new class for the start of third grade, and he’s managed to avoid contact with Namjoon for two whole years. He still remembers the robot incident very clearly; Namjoon totally broke the robot because he was jealous of Yoongi’s superior lego-building skills.
The two of them were in different classes for first and second grade, so it’d been easier to avoid Namjoon then . But evidently, fate isn’t on his side this year, because when he walks into the classroom (late because of traffic), the only empty seat is next to Namjoon in the first row.
His teacher nods understandingly before pointing Yoongi to his new seat. When he sees who his new seat mate is, he visibly blanches.
“Is there a problem?” the teacher asks, eyebrows furrowing.
“No, sorry,” Yoongi slides into his seat with a slight pout, sitting as far away from Namjoon as possible. He doesn’t notice the flicker of hurt cross Namjoon’s features.
Yoongi fiddles with his pen and taps his foot as the teacher begins to drone on about classroom errands. How many pieces of homework can he get away with not doing before his teacher calls his mom?
Namjoon, on the other hand, takes notes and stares at the blackboard diligently. He’s well-known as the teacher’s pet, intelligent eyes blinking from behind black-rimmed glasses. Last year, he won the perfect attendance award as well as valedictorian. What a nerd.
Daydreams of Yoongi’s favourite television show are interrupted by a tap on his shoulder, “Sorry, can you stop tapping your foot? It’s distracting.”
Yoongi glares at Namjoon in distaste, immediately reminded of Namjoon’s snotty crying-face back when they were five. (His lego robot must be avenged.) “You’re so ugly and annoying that it’s distracting, so shut up.”
The statement may not have been true (at all), but all of a sudden there are tears welling in Namjoon’s eyes, and Yoongi thinks, uh oh . He starts panicking a little internally, lips curling into a scowl, “hey, don’t be such a baby.”
The moment the words leave his mouth he knows he’s screwed up. Namjoon turns away, bottom lip trembling dangerously.
“Namjoon? Are you okay?” The teacher notices Namjoon’s distress, and suddenly the dam bursts and tears are flowing down his face.
“Yoongi was being mean! I just told him to stop tapping his foot, and… H-he said I was ugly and annoying!”
Yoongi’s pretty aware that he probably has some sort of anger problem, but it doesn’t stop him from muttering, “and now you’re a stupid tattletale too.”
He really shouldn’t have, not only because it’s mean, but also because the teacher has extremely sharp hearing and immediately zeroes in on him. Yoongi lands himself with a week of detention and absolutely no television.
He really didn’t think that he could hate Namjoon more, but apparently he can.
~
Yoongi makes sure to avoid Namjoon after that, and Namjoon takes extra care to do so as well, but even with great effort, sometimes things just don’t work the way you want it to.
They’re twelve, and they’ve been paired up for a Science Fair presentation. It’s no one’s fault, to be honest, because the pairs were assigned by lottery, but Yoongi swears the heavens have something against him.
They have arguments over everything, from the topic of the presentation to the font for the project board. (Dinosaurs are totally cooler and more interesting than the smallpox virus. It’s a fact. Also, wingdings is a totally acceptable font. Times new roman is just boring and dumb.)
They end up compromising with a project on why Mentos explodes in coke, which Yoongi will begrudgingly admit is kind of cool. He gets to drink a lot of coke, so everything’s good. That is, until the day of the Science Fair.
Yoongi skims through the notes at the very last minute, and understands absolutely nothing. To be fair, he did do all of the manual work (setting up the experiment, recording results, cleaning up the mess of coke, sticking stuff on the project board) while Namjoon was in charge of writing notes and printing them out.
“What? I don’t understand any of this!” Yoongi complains, leaning on the table next to the bottles of coke.
“That’s because you’re stupid,” Namjoon mumbles, rolling his eyes.
Maybe it’s that infuriating something about Namjoon, or maybe it’s his own anger issues, but Yoongi sees flaming red. Next thing he knows, Namjoon is doused in coke, eyes wide open in incredulity as Yoongi throws the empty bottle at his face.
To Yoongi’s surprise (or maybe not), Namjoon reels back and punches him in the face. Two teachers have to pull them apart when they end up brawling in a puddle of coke, while the other kids stare on in shock and slight amusement.
Yoongi may have gotten an F for the Science Fair, but he’s proud that he managed to bruise Namjoon’s jaw and mess up his (perfect) face. The next day, he ignores the slight twinge in his chest when Namjoon glares at him from across the hallway and glares right back.
~
The incidents only escalate from there. Now it’s pretty much a normal, everyday thing to see Min Yoongi and Kim Namjoon arguing or fighting over something. Yoongi wouldn’t call it a hobby, but it sure feels like one when both of them are exchanging blows and adrenaline is rushing through his veins like liquid fire.
They’re both high school seniors, and while Namjoon is still valedictorian, he’s no longer a teacher’s pet, what with his constant fighting. He’s ditched his glasses and grown into a smug smirk that really, really pisses Yoongi off. His dimples are a cause of anger too, to be honest. (Who has dimples that deep? It’s creepy. Really creepy. Not cute at all .)
Yoongi never remembers why they fight, just that they always do and someone always ends up with a bloody nose or a black eye. Some people have even started to bet on who wins.
“Hyung,” Hoseok says one day, watching One Punch Man on his laptop, “why do you and Namjoon always fight?”
“I don’t know,” Yoongi pauses his video game and looks up at Hoseok, who is lying on the couch, “what makes you ask?”
Hoseok shrugs, “the two of you have so much tension. It’s a little weird, but when I think about it, not really.”
“Well of course there’s tension, we’re fighting,” Yoongi snarks.
“No, not that sort of tension,” Hoseok finally pauses the episode and looks down at Yoongi, “I’m talking about sexual tension.”
It’s like Yoongi stops breathing for a minute, lungs constricting and eyes about to fall from his sockets, “Wha- What the fuck do you mean, sexual tension? There’s no sexual tension!”
“Sure, hyung,” Hoseok scoffs, “every time you two fight you look like you’re going to start aggressively making out.”
“No! What the fuck, Jung Hoseok,” Yoongi throws the controller at Hoseok, which he ducks. It lands on the couch with a thud. “Why the fuck would you even say that?”
“Don’t shoot the messenger, literally the whole school thinks you’re either going to have sex or already are having sex. I’m not alone in this,” Hoseok laughs at Yoongi’s growing discomfort, “and don’t act like you don’t feel the tension.”
“You’re full of fucking bullshit, Hoseok,” Yoongi stretches over and grabs the controller to resume the game, “of course not.”
Okay, so Yoongi might be lying. Namjoon has always been an attractive kid, and now he’s infuriatingly so. Not that it bothers Yoongi — well it does, because it’s annoying. So annoying. Like Namjoon in general. And no, Yoongi definitely has not noticed how Namjoon’s body has perfect proportions. Nope, not at all.
Namjoon is decently popular with girls in school, and Yoongi doesn’t see what the fuss is about. He totally hasn’t noticed the way Namjoon’s lips move when they argue, and how deep and melodious his voice is. No fucking way. Also, his clumsiness is not absolutely adorable and endearing. Girls are weird. Totally weird. Right?
The words “Game over” float onto the television screen and the controller drops onto the floor with a soft thud. Yoongi blinks at the screen dumbly as the revelation hits him. “Fuck Kim Namjoon.”
“Yes,” Hoseok muses, not even looking up from his screen, “you two should fuck.”
~
“You two are so dumb,” Seokjin sighs as he wipes the cut of Yoongi’s cheek with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball. Yoongi winces and scowls, “Fuck! Ow.”
“You wouldn’t be in so much pain if you stopped fighting with Namjoon every day,” the other nags, plastering a bandage over the wound. As much as it pains Yoongi to admit it, Seokjin is right. He sure isn’t going to tell Seokjin that though.
Although Yoongi and Namjoon may be enemies/rivals/fighting buddies(?), they actually have a bunch of mutual friends, Seokjin included. Actually, Seokjin is Namjoon’s best friend, but he’s also good friends with Yoongi. It just makes it even weirder how Namjoon and Yoongi aren’t friends, or at least acquaintances.
“Thanks,” Yoongi mutters as Seokjin throws the used cotton balls and bandage packaging into the bin.
“I know I’ve asked this a thousand times, but why do the two of you keep fighting?” Seokjin says, plopping down on the bed, next to Yoongi, “Do you just not know how to communicate with each other?”
Yoongi shrugs, “I don’t know, hyung. His fucking face is always asking to be punched.”
“You know you look more like you want to punch his mouth with yours right?” Seokjin snarks. Yoongi turns and stares at him incredulously.
“I do not! What the fuck? First Hoseok and now you?” He is totally not yelling, not at all.
“Well of course, everyone thinks that you two are, I don’t know, fucking or something.”
“No! No, we are not! Why would we ever? What the fuck is wrong with all of you?”
“Yoongi, none of us are fooled by your tsundere crap. To be honest, even Jimin and Tae thought you were bow-chicka-wow-wow-ing back when you were sophomores.”
“What the fuck. Just shut up, hyung. Please don’t talk anymore.”
“You’re just in denial.”
“Why is everyone only bringing this up now? We’ve been fighting for years, and no one has ever mentioned it. You’re just making this shit up.”
The look Seokjin gives him is both withering and pitiful, “you two are more hopeless than we thought.”
~
“Fuck you, Hoseok,” Yoongi snarls as he walks into the janitor’s closet, kicking over a mop accidentally, “what the exact fuck is so urgent that you needed to see me here and now?”
“Yoongi?” A pair of wide eyes blink back in the darkness, “what the fuck? Where’s Seokjin?”
The only answer he gets is the slam of the door and the sound of the lock clicking into place. Yoongi whirls around and stares at the door in panic.
“We’re not letting the two of you out until you talk it out,” Hoseok singsongs. Fuck. Locking two people up in the janitor’s closet is literally the most cliched trick out of the book. Of course Jung Hoseok and Kim Seokjin and the rest of those fucking idiots would think of this.
“What the fuck, Jung Hoseok?” Yoongi pounds on the door with both fists while Namjoon gapes behind him, “Unlock the damn door. I’m going to kick your fucking ass.”
“No can do, Yoongi,” Seokjin chimes in, “Now sort it out or you’ll be in here until the janitor finds you.”
“I swear I will tear both your asses a new one. Unlock the fucking door!” The only answer he gets are footsteps walking away, down the hallway. Well, fuck.
“Uh, Yoongi?” For the first time in his life, Namjoon sounds hesitant instead of smug.
“What? The fuck do you want, Namjoon?”
“Maybe they’re right. It’s the last year of high school, we should be mature enough to sort this out.”
Yoongi hates how Namjoon is probably right, but he sure as hell isn’t going to admit it to his face.
“Fuck you,” Yoongi growls, turning around to face him. He nearly slams right into Namjoon, who stumbles backwards. There’s barely enough space for the both of them in the tiny closet, what with Namjoon being a fucking giant, “Why are you always so annoying?”
“What is your problem with me?” He can hear Namjoon getting pissed off, his voice getting rougher, “I never explicitly did anything to offend you.”
“I don’t know, you're just infuriating,” Yoongi steps forward in a challenge, “do I need a reason?”
“Why the fuck are you always so unreasonable?” The younger steps forward as well, eyes glinting in the dim light, “you’re always itching for a fight.”
“So what if I am?” Yoongi takes another step forward, their noses less than 15 centimetres apart.
Namjoon’s mouth is open but the words never leave his mouth as he steps forwards and trips on the fallen mop. All of a sudden, he’s falling backwards, and his long legs trip Yoongi over as well. They land in a tumbled heap and Yoongi’s flailing arms knocks over a shelf, cleaning products raining down on them painfully.
“Ow, ow, fuck!” Yoongi groans, his head throbbing from where the can of air freshener hit him. Something beneath him vibrates and he can hear Namjoon’s pained groan from under him. Shit, shit, shit, he’s fucking straddling Namjoon, and he can hear the other’s heart racing because his fucking head is on Namjoon’s chest .
He immediately pushes himself up, but the movement causes him to accidentally grind against Namjoon. Yoongi finds himself falling forward again and holy shit he might have just moaned a little. His cheeks are flaming red and Namjoon is cursing under his breath.
“Ow, stop fucking squirming!” the younger hisses.
“I’m trying to get up here,” he snaps back, pushing himself up with his arms but only succeeding in tangling himself more, “why the fuck are you so clumsy?”
Namjoon grunts underneath him, chest rising and falling rapidly, their faces only a few centimetres apart, “I said, stop moving, damn it.”
“I’m just trying to get up, your clumsy ass got us into this.”
Namjoon looks up at him, and for once it’s not anger in his eyes. It’s something a little more tender, and Yoongi is confused. “You drive me fucking crazy, you know?”
“What?” Yoongi stops moving, and growls a little at Namjoon, “like you don’t drive me mad.”
Namjoon rolls his eyes, “fuck it.”
Plush lips press against his own, and suddenly there are hands sliding up his neck into his hair, pulling him down and — we’re kissing , Yoongi thinks, eyes wide open. He finds himself kissing back, his own hand curled around the nape of Namjoon’s neck in a slightly awkward position. And I think I like it.
Yoongi’s eyes flutter shut and he opens his mouth pliantly when Namjoon’s tongue swipes across his bottom lip. The kiss turns slightly rough when their teeth click together, and Yoongi tugs on Namjoon’s collar just to pull him in closer. He gasps slightly when hands slide down to his lower back and Namjoon takes advantage of the opportunity to slip his tongue in his mouth.
Hands reach down to cup his ass, making Yoongi grind down accidentally, pressing their crotches together. The kiss is broken as Namjoon lets out a breathy moan. “Fuck, Yoongi.”
“Yes, fuck. Now shut up and kiss me,” Yoongi says, before leaning down again. He can feel Namjoon’s hard-on against his thigh, and smirking into the kiss, he brushes against Namjoon slightly, just enough to hear his breath stutter. Namjoon lifts his hands from his ass and slides them up Yoongi’s sides, rubbing against his shoulder blades before reaching up to his hair.
Suddenly, Yoongi’s head is tugged backwards and he arches his back, breathing heavily. Namjoon presses featherlight kisses against his jawline before his lips trail down to his neck. It’s a little too cramped in the closet and their position is awkward; when Namjoon sits up, their crotches brush once again and Yoongi hisses from the friction.
Yoongi hears himself moaning involuntarily as Namjoon cradles his head and sucks on the crook of his neck, teeth lightly nibbling and leaving red marks blooming on pale skin. Rutting against Namjoon seems like a suitable form of retaliation, and he can feel Namjoon’s heart racing faster under his palms.
The sound of a fist pounding on the door makes the two of them spring apart, still panting hard.
“I don’t know if you heard but the bell just rung so I’m just going to unlock the door. You guys can come out when you finish fucking,” Hoseok yells from behind the door. Yoongi can just hear his smug smirk.
“Fuck you, Jung Hoseok,” Yoongi yells as the door unlocks. They hear the sound of footsteps running away (probably scared for his life in case Yoongi comes for his ass).
“Now,” he turns back to Namjoon, whose hair is adorably tousled and cheeks flustered pink, “where were we?”
“Wait, wait,” Namjoon presses a finger to Yoongi’s lips, “I,uh, kinda have something to confess.”
Yoongi raises an eyebrow at him, “what?”
“I’ve liked you since elementary school,” Namjoon can’t look Yoongi in the eye, staring at the tiles on the floor, “I just — I don’t know.”
Yoongi flushes a dark shade of scarlet, blinking in surprise. Honestly, he’s found Namjoon attractive since third grade. (Not that he has ever voiced it out loud.) And during the moments when they weren’t arguing for the Science Fair project, Yoongi had admired the way Namjoon was so quick-witted and intelligent, and was slightly infatuated with the way his eyes lit up whenever he talked about things that he liked, even if they were nerdy topics like photosynthesis or velocity.
“Y-yeah, um,” Yoongi stammers, “like, uh, same.”
“Same what?” There’s a teasing lilt to Namjoon’s voice, and the way the corners of his eyes crinkle has Yoongi’s gut churning with butterflies. Yoongi lightly smacks Namjoon’s shoulders, a slight scowl on his lips.
“I- I don’t know. I think I… I fucking like you too, damn it. Just kiss me, you shit.”
Their Mathematics teacher ends up giving the both of them detention when they turn up fifteen minutes late to class, clothing rumpled and hair messy. The catcalls and whistles have Yoongi’s cheeks flaming even redder, but Namjoon just smirks knowingly, dimples etched into his handsome face. For once, Yoongi is actually looking forward to detention.
~
“Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook, you owe me money. Now fucking pay up,” Hoseok yells as he kicks the door of the living room open.
They’re all sprawled over Yoongi’s living room in various positions. Seokjin, Taehyung, Jungkook and Jimin are very viciously competing for first place in Mario Kart, while Yoongi and Namjoon are sitting on the couch, watching them play.
“Not now, Hoseok-hyung,” Jimin complains, “we’re in the middle of a game.”
“I don’t care, you lost, pay the fuck up.”
“Why do they owe you again?” Namjoon asks as Jungkook leaps into the air, hissing victoriously as he comes in first place. Taehyung boos him, pouting as he comes in third and Seokjin comes in second.
“We had a bet on whether the closet plan would work,” Seokjin says, falling back against the couch, “basically we bet on whether you would end up making out or fighting again.”
“Fuck all of you,” Yoongi groans, resting his forehead against the crook of Namjoon’s neck.
“Ew, look at you two, you’re all over each other,” Jimin whines, “no offence, Yoongi-hyung, but it was better when you were fighting all the time. You’re literally sitting in Namjoon-hyung’s lap. You’ve gone soft.”
His cheeks flush with embarrassment as he buries his face into Namjoon’s chest, “yah, shut the fuck up, Park Jimin.” He hears Namjoon’s throaty chuckles and feels his arm curl tighter around his waist, a light kiss pressed against the crown of his head.
“What can I say? The cliches always work,” Hoseok smirks as the three younger ones hand over the cash to him and Seokjin.
“Whatever,” Jungkook grumbles, “I’m going to get coffee. Does anyone want some?”
The others rattle off their orders with a chorus of “thanks, Jungkookie!”, while Taehyung bounds over as Jungkook gets ready to leave.
“I’ll go with you, Jungkookie. You need help with the drinks anyway,” Taehyung beams, hand lightly resting on Jungkook’s bicep. The others watch on in amusement as Jungkook’s face literally melts into a soft smile, “thanks, hyung.”
The moment they’re out the door, Hoseok chimes, “okay, who wants to bet that I can get them together within one week?”