Work Text:
[ ▸ ]
Namjoon stops a few paces from the entrance to Cinetown so that he can pull a crumpled up napkin out of the pockets of his cargo shorts and drag it across his sweaty forehead. “Fuck, it’s hot.”
He’d been doing this every few blocks since they decided to walk to work from Seokjin’s apartment.
“It only gets hotter the more you stop us to talk about how hot it is, Namjoon-ah.”
Namjoon looks over at Seokjin, still mopping up sweat along his hairline. “Scientifically untrue.”
It is hot, though. It’s the hottest day of the year, his weather app tells him when he checks to see if it really is as hot as it feels. It is. And it’s going to get hotter this afternoon, which means Seokjin will stay at Cinetown long past his shift just to bask in the newly installed aircon.
“Okay, let’s keep going.” Namjoon says it as if he’s trying to rally the troops to cross the desert and not just forcing himself to cross the street.
Taehyung’s broad smile greets Seokjin and Namjoon when they enter the store.
“Welcome to the Super Special Cinetown Summer Bonanza Event!”
It immediately earns him a gentle elbow in the ribs from Yoongi. “We’re not calling it that.”
The dry tone of his voice does nothing to deflate Taehyung, who’s sitting crosslegged on the floor in front of a perfectly good and empty armchair, coloring in letters on a long banner. Seokjin looks at it long enough to see something that reads suspiciously like Summer Bonanza and says nothing. He and Taehyung might be sleeping together – dating, he reminds himself – but Namjoon and Yoongi are far more successful Taehyung Wranglers. He’ll leave it to them.
Instead, he crouches down next to Taehyung to say hello.
“Hello, hyung.” Taehyung looks up at him, voice low and musical like it always is. There are a few customers in the store, but Seokjin is far past caring about things like that. He turns his face to meet Taehyung’s mouth, letting himself enjoy the instant rush that comes along with it. Taehyung’s mouth is soft and pliant, and the kiss quickly moves past the realm of socially acceptable things to do with one’s boyfriend in public.
“Gross,” Jungkook comments happily from behind the counter, completely unashamed by the way he’s draped over Yoongi while his boyfriend scans a tall stack of DVDs from the return pile.
[ ▸ ]
It’s been years since Hoseok felt the need to continuously update his parents on the store. When he’d taken it over at just nineteen, he’d done so under their near-constant supervision. It had gotten to the point where he’d felt the need to gently and respectfully remind them that they were retired and he could handle things fine.
But now, when he calls to update them on Cinetown, it’s mostly just a blip in a short catch up about his life, his friends’ lives, and how much his parents are enjoying doing absolutely nothing.
“And how is Yoongi?”
Hoseok smiles as he pushes some rice around in his bowl. His mother always asks after Yoongi.
“Your favorite child is doing well, eomma.” He ignores her weak sounds of protest, still smiling. “He’s good. He’s helping Jungkookie get ready for this big film festival.”
“Ah, that’s good. It’s good they have each other.” His mother’s voice is warm and genuine, and it makes him pleasantly homesick.
“Mm, that’s right.”
He’s never had to tell his parents what Yoongi and Jungkook are to each other. It just settled into their conversations as truth not long after they’d gotten together, either in the way Hoseok spoke about them or the short glimpse his mother had gotten of them the last time she’d visited the store. At some point it had just become another box to tick in the list of questions about Hoseok’s life that his mother always remembered to ask: Have you eaten? How are Namjoon and Jimin? How’s the store? Making money? How are Yoongi and Jungkook?
One of these days, she would probably figure out whatever is going on between Seokjin and Taehyung, Possibly before Seokjin and Taehyung do.
“We’re proud of you, Hoseok-ah.” His father’s voice comes through the line suddenly, as if he’s been waiting impatiently next to his wife for the last fifteen minutes waiting for his chance to interject. Then, as is usually the case when emotions come into play, he moves on brusquely. “Don’t forget your quarterly report. If you get behind, it’s hard to dig yourself out of the hole.”
“I know, I know.” Hoseok waves his hand dismissively, even though he’s alone in his apartment. “You’re retired. You shouldn’t be thinking about quarterly reports.”
His father hums. “Your mother wants to talk to you again.”
And then he’s gone. Hoseok puts his bowl in the sink and curls up on his couch, settling in for another twenty minutes promising his mom that he would make a trip home to Gwangju before summer ends.
[ ▸ ]
Jimin loves watching Namjoon teach.
He hasn’t been a student for a long time, but he feels like one on days like this, when he comes to meet Namjoon for lunch and winds up slipping into the classroom at the end of a lecture to hear Namjoon talk about Kurosawa or Varda or the philosophy behind screwball comedies. It’s one of the best things about being in love with Namjoon; he makes Jimin want to learn. Or, more accurately, he reminds Jimin that he’s always loved learning, and that doesn’t need to stop being true just because his university years are far behind him.
“Hey,” Namjoon’s deep voice greets him when his students filter out and he comes to stand in front of the seat Jimin had claimed in the back of the class.
He’s grinning already, clearly happy to see Jimin. It’s not that they haven’t seen each other, but it’s been a little difficult to find time lately. Jimin’s teaching dance classes all day and planning for his students’ recital at the end of spring; Namjoon’s splitting his time between managing Cinetown and grading papers for his film studies seminars. They meet in the middle when they can, with Jimin staying over at Namjoon and Seokjin’s or Namjoon at Jimin and Taehyung’s place. They’ll move in together soon, Jimin is sure of it. And not just because Taehyung spends all of his time at Seokjin’s lately anyway. But Jimin is patient, even when Namjoon is not. Sometimes it just takes Namjoon a little longer to realize how badly he wants something. That’s okay. Jimin can wait.
“Hey,” he smiles back.
Namjoon looks over one shoulder, then the other. As if some students would be hiding in the lecture hall somewhere, ready to tattle on him. He leans down, one hand on the other arm of Jimin’s chair until he’s bracketing him in, and he leans down to capture Jimin’s mouth.
When they pull apart, Jimin grins up at him. “Taehyungie’s going to be out all night, and you don’t have any classes tomorrow.”
“Mmhm,” Namjoon hums, pressing his nose into the curve of Jimin’s cheek. “I have papers to grade, though.”
“Grade them tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
[ ▸ ]
Yoongi can’t stand to watch Jungkook’s pacing for another minute.
“He’s going to dig us a brand-new basement if he doesn’t stop,” Seokjin mutters in Yoongi’s ear. Yoongi swats at him like a fly. They’re both posted up behind the front counter today, though Yoongi’s not entirely sure Seokjin is on the clock. He’s fairly certain Taehyung is supposed to be on shift today.
Yoongi’s barely working, anyway. Instead, he’s perched on the stool with his elbows propping him up on top of an open issue of Cine21 while Seokjin puts stickers on the spines of new releases. Yoongi’s head swivels from side to side as he watches Jungkook anxiously cross from Horror on one wall of the store to Staff Picks on the opposite wall.
“Jungkook-ah,” he calls out softly. Then, a little louder. “Jungkookie.”
It does the trick. Jungkook halts mid-stride to look at him with his eyebrows raised. Then, when Yoongi just stares at him pointedly, his shoulders sag and he trudges over to the counter.
“Sorry. I’m just – this festival is stressing me out.”
Seokjin balls his fists up and waves them in the air, like he’s cheering on a game. “Fighting, Jungkookie!” And then he takes his stack of movies and disappears into the back room.
“Very encouraging, hyung,” Yoongi says over his shoulder dryly.
Jungkook puts both hands on top of the counter, palms down, and it looks as though he’s trying to release all of the tension in his body as he droops and melts until he fully faceplants on the glass with a groan.
Yoongi chuckles, reaching out to comb his fingers through the shaggy mop of dark hair in front of him.
“Jungkook. It’s not like you to be so in your head about this.”
It’s been years since Jungkook graduated with his film degree, since he showed his film at Cinetown. Since he was that overly anxious, self-critical student Yoongi met.
Being invited to submit to the Daegu Film Festival is a big deal, but no bigger a deal than any of the other opportunities and awards Jungkook has gotten over the last few years. Jungkook has gotten to the point in his filmmaking career where the lead up to a screening is usually a full-throttle ride of excitement rather than nerves. It’s like he figured out at some point that if he just kept moving – last minute edits, promotions, preparing – he won’t have time to be nervous. When he’d gotten the email about the festival in Daegu, Yoongi had assumed it would be much the same. Instead, Jungkook’s stomach has been in knots for weeks.
“You’re going to be great,” Yoongi says determinedly to the crown of Jungkook’s head.
And the thing is that he will be; It’s not an empty platitude. There’s not a single doubt in Yoongi’s mind that Jungkook’s film will be a top submission.
Jungkook lifts his head up and blinks at Yoongi, eyebrows pinched thoughtfully.
“Will we see your parents?”
“Mm,” Yoongi hums. Jungkook’s hair has fallen all over the place, and he reaches out to push a hefty chunk of it behind his ear, thumb brushing softly across the row of earrings as he goes. “I think hyung will be there, not sure about my parents.”
“Thank God,” Jungkook blurts and then groans in frustration. “I didn’t mean…”
Yoongi laughs. “You love my dad. Can’t believe you’re so happy to miss the chance to do your impression of him to his face.”
Jungkook doesn’t say anything, back to staring at the top of the counter as he chews on his newly pierced lip ring. Yoongi sighs and leaves him there with one last gentle tug on his earlobe.
He’s telling Namjoon about it that evening when Jungkook comes home. From his spot in their bedroom, he hears the keypad to their front door beep and the sound of it unlocking successfully.
“He’s being weird, Namjoon-ah. I don’t know…it’s freaking me out.”
Through the phone, he hears clinking followed by the loud sound of dishes crashing. “Ah, shit. Sorry, hyung. I’m on dish duty. Anyway, what are you worried about? So he’s nervous. Happens to everyone. It’s not like he’s going to dump you.” Namjoon makes a sound, like something’s just occurred to him. “Ah, you don’t think he’s going to dump you, do you?”
Yoongi turns and hisses into the phone, very aware of Jungkook in the entryway. “I wasn’t thinking that!”
Namjoon starts to speak but then stops, and then Jimin is on the line. “Hyung. Jungkookie is not going to break up with you. Aish, you guys are stupid.”
Yoongi sits up, suddenly alert. “Do you know what’s got him so freaked out?”
But Jimin is gone, and it’s Namjoon who speaks again. “Sorry hyung. You know how they are.”
The bedroom door creaks open and Yoongi looks up to meet Jungkook’s eyes. He doesn't look freaked out anymore. He’s giving Yoongi the softest look, the way he usually looks at Yoongi. It makes relief bloom and spread in Yoongi’s chest.
“I gotta go,” he says abruptly into the phone, and hangs up.
“Hey,” Jungkook says, and he sounds tired but much more at ease than he had earlier. He drops his backpack by the dresser and takes a running leap towards the bed, landing on his stomach with a soft oomph, half draped over Yoongi’s legs.
Yoongi’s shoulders shake with laughter. “Hello.” He doesn’t even care that Jungkook’s sharp elbow is digging painfully into his thigh.
“All packed?” Jungkook asks brightly.
“Of course I am. What about you?” The question is sarcastic. They both know that Jungkook will pack tomorrow morning, an hour before they leave to catch the train to Daegu. Yoongi has almost stopped finding it annoying.
“It’s a work in progress,” Jungkook says diplomatically, grinning.
Yoongi pushes at Jungkook, pretending to complain about the weight of him as if he doesn’t love the feeling of Jungkook heavy and certain on top of him. Jungkook relents, falling over until he’s on his side, looking up at Yoongi where he still sits up with his back against the headboard.
They’ve lived together for two years. Two years since Jungkook casually said, over some microwaved ramyun in the staff room at Cinetown, I should just move in. Two rent payments doesn’t make sense, hyung, and pretended to not be nervous while he waited for Yoongi to say yes. Because of course he was going to say yes.
And Yoongi loves it. He never thought he would love living with someone so much, too worried he’d become brittle and agitated when forced to share his space or work around someone else’s schedule. He’s not sure if it’s being in his thirties or just that it’s Jungkook, but living together is easy. Jungkook doesn’t care that Yoongi stays up way too late working on music in his studio, because Jungkook’s there too, hunched over his desk they’d squeezed into the opposite corner, headphones on as he edits footage. When Yoongi’s too tired to cook, Jungkook takes over; when they’re both too lazy to cook, they order takeout. He goes to sleep every night with Jungkook clinging to him like an octopus, and he wakes up miserably sweaty and happier than he’s ever been in his stupid life.
“Doing ok?” He murmurs to Jungkook tentatively, wanting to check in but not wanting to trigger another wave of nerves. But Jungkook just grunts, totally relaxed.
He presses a warm, open-mouthed kiss against Yoongi’s hip, over the soft cotton of his t-shirt. Then he tugs at Yoongi until Yoongi gets the hint and slides down on the bed until they’re lying side by side.
“Yoongi-yah,” Jungkook says, and his voice is doing that musical thing that manages to sound half teasing, half sincere. It’s so very Jungkook, and something about the way he’s looking at Yoongi has Yoongi’s heart stuttering. Then he murmurs, “I love you.”
It’s not something they say often. They both know the truth of it, and make it clear a hundred different ways that aren’t always spoken aloud. But they do say it from time to time, in moments big and small. When Yoongi offers to do Jungkook’s laundry on editing days when he can’t find the time but is down to mismatched socks. When Jungkook graduated, or when Yoongi landed a gig doing the score for a fairly major indie film. It’s ordinary now, to say it, in a way that Yoongi loves.
But something about the look on Jungkook's face, the specific cadence of his voice. Yoongi feels his cheeks heat. “I love you too, Jungkook-ah.”
A smile spreads, big and wide, across Jungkook’s face and his eyes shine. Then, his expression turns thoughtful, playful. He slides a warm hand across Yoongi’s stomach, dipping up under his shirt to scratch lightly at his chest. Yoongi feels himself hum rather than hears himself do it, the rumbling noise it makes against Jungkook’s hand. When his fingers splay to brush against Yoongi’s nipple, Yoongi squirms.
“We have to get up early tomorrow. You have to pack,” he reminds him, but he’s already moving a hand around Jungkook’s waist and sliding his hand under Jungkook’s henley to softly stroke the warm skin there.
“It’ll be okay, old man,” Jungkook laughs. He pushes Yoongi’s shirt up further, leaning down to trail kisses across the soft expanse of skin above his belly button. His other hand dips below the waistband of Yoongi’s sweats, mission obvious.
Yoongi pulls Jungkook closer to him, spreads his legs. Who is he to tell Jungkook what to do? He slides his hands down to grasp at Jungkook’s ass, pushes them against one another, and grins when they both groan.
*
The screening goes well. It goes great, actually; all of the buzz at the after party is about Jungkook’s film and he walks around like he’s taken some kind of drug that makes you fly, pockets full of business cards. Yoongi feels like he took the same drug, just watching him. He can feel his chest puffing out with pride, grinning any time Jungkook introduces him as his partner. He barely even registers the few open scowls they receive in return. He couldn’t give less of a shit, he’s too smug to give homophobes the time of day.
“You look like a proud dad,” his brother mutters at him when he hands Yoongi a glass of wine.
Yoongi elbows him hard in the stomach as surreptitiously as he can in a crowd full of people. “Gross, hyung.”
Geumjae laughs. “It’s cute, Yoongi-yah.”
Jungkook skips over then, returning from the small crowd of fans he’d been chatting with. His eyes look bigger than the moon when he smiles over at Yoongi. “I did an interview! Someone wanted to interview me!”
Yoongi sidles closer to him, pressing their arms together. “That’s great, Jungkook-ah.”
Jungkook is in a gray button down and his nicest slacks, but his hair is wild and product-free, and the wind ruffles it as Yoongi stands there and just looks at him. It’s moments like this that Yoongi has to actually sit with everything and war with the desire to find a way to go back in time and kick his own ass for all of the time he wasted denying himself this. Seokjin says he’s gotten too soft; Yoongi thinks that’s probably fine. Good, even.
Geumjae checks his watch and hums. “Ah. I gotta go.” He leans over and bushes his knuckles against Yoongi’s arm, then Jungkook’s. “Congrats again, Jungkookie.”
Jungkook’s nose crinkles and he smiles shyly. “Thanks, Geumjae-hyung.”
With Yoongi’s brother gone and the crowd starting to thin, Jungkook’s attention returns to Yoongi fully. He chews on his lip ring and takes a sip of his wine.
“It’s nice here.”
Yoongi startles, dragging his eyes away from Jungkook’s mouth. He looks around at the large pavilion. The Daegu Film Festival is usually outdoors when the weather is nice, as it so happened to be this year.
“It is, yeah.”
“Ever think about moving back?” Jungkook asks. It has a weird note to it, like he’s forcing small talk. It’s a far cry from the overly casual tone he takes with Yoongi.
Yoongi laughs. “No, definitely not. Seoul is my home.” He doesn’t say the sappier thing, which is that his home is wherever Jungkook is. He’s sure Jungkook knows.
Jungkook just hums. Then, still sounding a little offbeat, he nods and says, “Want to walk a little?”
Yoongi eyes him suspiciously. “Sure.”
Jungkook seems to know where he’s going. Which is odd, because he’s definitely never been here before.
“They have a map of the park online,” is what he says when Yoongi asks.
Yoongi just stares at him and doesn’t point out that he can think of few things less Jungkook than having the forethought to memorize the map of a place before visiting.
He brings Yoongi over to a more secluded part of the park, away from the main pavilion where the festival after party is winding down. There’s a small gazebo with plenty of lights, and the trellis that surrounds the bench is covered in thick winding vines of fragrant honeysuckle.
“These grow in pairs,” Yoongi says, reaching out to touch a small cluster of flowers. “They bloom together. But the berries are poisonous.”
Jungkook laughs, taking a seat on the bench. “I thought you were being romantic until you got to the bit about poison. Did you read the wiki for honeysuckles, hyung?”
Yoongi shrugs, grinning. “Maybe.” He eyes the empty spot next to Jungkook but stays standing. The air around them feels charged all of a sudden, but he can’t tell if it’s just residual excitement from the event manifesting as anxiety in his chest. Either way, he prefers to stand, swaying slightly from side to side in front of Jungkook, looking down at him.
“Hyung is very proud of you, ‘Kook.”
“I know,” Jungkook says, grinning up at him. “Thank you.”
Then, he shifts a little, and he pulls his lip ring into his mouth once more. A nervous habit, Yoongi is coming to realize.
“What’s wrong?”
The look Jungkook gives him is intense. He has the sort of look on his face that Yoongi recognizes from that time he took them all bungee jumping, when he’d locked in a determined expression as he got strapped into the harness and waved to Yoongi seconds before throwing himself off the edge of the cliff.
“I was going to do this whole thing,” he says, and he looks down at his lap where his hands are fidgeting. “I had this whole plan to do something really big and over the top.”
Confusion and anxiety swirl up in Yoongi, zeroing in on how serious Jungkook sounds all of a sudden. He takes a step closer, coming to stand between Jungkook’s parted knees.
Opens his mouth, but Jungkook keeps speaking. “But then I thought, you know, that’s not really us. You’re not really into the grand gestures.”
“Jungkook,” Yoongi says intently, just wanting to get rid of that vaguely nauseous look of anxiety on Jungkook’s face. He’s barely registering Jungkook’s actual words. “What’s wrong?”
Jungkook’s head shoots up, and, in contrast with his voice moments ago, his face is clear. There’s a look of certainty on his face. Like he’s solved a riddle and he’s buzzing in with the answer, completely confident.
“Hyung. Yoongi…” he catches his lip ring and releases it. He lets out a short breath and laughs, seemingly at his own hesitancy. “Will you marry me?”
The moment catches and holds, and Yoongi finds himself focusing on the faraway sounds of the party: the soft music they continue to play as the crowd thins, the indistinguishable chatter of the people who remain. The smell of honeysuckles brings him back. To Jungkook.
“Yes.”
“I really wanted to do this the right way,” Jungkook blurts out. “You deserve a fancy dinner, or – or a mountain. I thought about doing it on top of a mountain.”
“I don’t like heights. Jungkook, I said yes.”
“I know you don’t like heights, but – oh.” Jungkook looks up so quickly that Yoongi is sure his neck is going to scream at him tomorrow morning. His eyes are wide and so round, and he’s staring up at Yoongi like he’s just explained the secrets of the universe. “Oh!”
He reaches out and pulls at Yoongi until he stumbles and has no choice but to fall onto the bench, legs half in Jungkook’s lap and ass certain to bruise. He complains, but he’s laughing. He and Jungkook look at each other for a moment, and they can’t stop laughing in little fits and starts.
Jungkook twists, one hand holding onto Yoongi’s legs while the other reaches over to pull him close for a kiss. Yoongi’s definitely not supposed to bend like this, but he only spares a moment to care about the odd twist of his spine. He brings his hands up to cup Jungkook’s face and presses their mouths closer. Their mouths open, Jungkook pulling Yoongi’s bottom lip into his mouth as he hums happily against him. The party sounds and the smell of the honeysuckles fade away until all of Yoongi’s senses are occupied with Jungkook. He can feel the grin that Jungkook is failing to right, because it’s moving against his own.
When they pull away, Jungkook immediately leans in to press another kiss against the center of Yoongi’s mouth.
“I have a ring for you,” Jungkook offers. His eyes get shifty. “But I accidentally left it at home. It’s in my bedside drawer.”
Yoongi pulls back to squint at him. “You know, if you’d packed ahead of time…”
Jungkook groans and squeezes him. “Shut up, hyung.”
Then he stretches out lazily, legs extending in front of him and hovering just above the wood slats of the gazebo floor, like a pleased cat. It makes Yoongi’s legs slide off Jungkook’s lap and he makes a noise of complaint, even if it means his spine straightens out and the painful ache that had been building starts to fade.
“I can’t believe we’re going to get married before Jimin and Namjoon.”
Yoongi snorts. “Namjoon doesn’t believe in marriage.”
“Ah, but Jimin does.”
They look at each other and laugh, knowing that meant that they’d be attending Namjoon’s wedding eventually. Jungkook takes his phone out and gives it his full attention, but Yoongi is busy piecing things together.
“Yah. Is that why you were so nervous? It wasn’t the festival, was it?”
Jungkook doesn’t look up, but his ears turn damningly pink. “I wasn’t worried about the festival at all. I’m awesome.”
Yoongi stutters out a laugh, shaking his head. He reaches out and tugs at Jungkook’s shirt sleeve. Jungkook doesn’t meet his eyes, but that’s okay. “You didn’t need to be worried about this either.”
It takes a moment, but finally Jungkook looks up at him. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, and his shoulders relax. He gives Yoongi a cheeky grin. “I know. I’m awesome.” Then he lights up and waves his phone between them. “Let’s tell everyone we know!”
Yoongi laughs. “You mean all five of our friends? Okay.”
And they do.