Archive of Our Own

Namjoon and Seokjin have always been inevitably close, as the leader and the oldest hyung. They've been each other's support system, each other's motivation for god knows how long. 

These days, however, their closeness somehow increased. 

Being neighbors, they often go home together after rehearsals, practices, interviews, pretty much anything that involves the both of them (or not. One time, Namjoon missed a photoshoot and had to retake it—alone—the next day. Of course, Seokjin had shown up under the pretense of scolding him, but ended up just watching Namjoon from afar and complimenting him once he was done. And of course, the second Seokjin showed up, Namjoon got distracted and was actually scolded by the photographer.)

Even the others started noticing this and teased them about practically being a couple. Though, to be fair, they (Jimin) have always done that (e.g. 2018's April fools prank), but it's gotten to a point where even Yoongi says it. 

Whenever any one of them walks past, they make kissing noises, even if they're just talking innocently! 

That is, if innocent was Namjoon keeping a hand on Seokjin at all times, whether on his arm or small of his back, and them looking deeply into each other's eyes with warm smiles during most breaks; even if they stood on opposite sides of the room, their eyes would find their way to each other's and crinkle up when they met. 

Not that Seokjin minds the teasing—he leans into it even. 

Of course, at first, he reprimanded the others, but lately he's been finding himself giving into it more, acting overly romantic just to laugh when Namjoon gets shy and tells him to stop. 

Just to give them something to talk about, of course. 

Today was a short day: just a brief interview in the morning (in which Namjoon, as usual, had asked Seokjin to be by his side, then proceeded to become the most touchy version of himself) and they'd be off for the rest of the day. 

While they'd gone home together as usual, they both wanted to rest for once in their lives and went their separate ways.

However.

It was now evening—5:13pm to be exact—resting completed, a certain boredom—or ennui, like Namjoon had once said (what a nerd, Seokjin thinks)—arises in the oldest member. 

Just laying on his couch, watching one of those stupid dramas he loves, as Namjoon calls them. The thought alone is enough to make his mind drift over to him, his laugh, his smile, his jokes, his unfairly charming dimples... 

Surely, Seokjin wouldn't be bored with him around, right? 

Before he can even think of coming up with an excuse, he dials Namjoon's number and waits merely two rings before it picks up.

"Hello?" Namjoon's voice sounds groggy. Seokjin stomach twists, both from the endearing sound of it and for fear that he's woken him up. 

He puts the phone on speaker and sets it down on the living room table. "Honey, can you come over here?" He hesitates a second, wracking his brain as fast as he can to come up with a reason for his call. 

"I, uh, have some furniture I need to move around." He finally adds after a cough.

Technically, it was true. He's been meaning to change the layout of his living room for a while, but right now, it was probably the least of his worries. He says it more to hide the truth to why he's calling him.

(If he can't admit to himself that the actual reason is that he misses Namjoon, how could he let Namjoon find out?) 

There's a pause on the other line. All Seokjin can hear is Namjoon's steady breathing for a few seconds before he finally replies. "Honey?" 

Seokjin's eyes grow wide. He barely even realized he'd said it, but now that it was out in the open, there was no taking it back. "Well, yeah," his voice cracks and he coughs slightly to cover it up. "I mean, everyone says we act like a couple, so why can't I call you that?" It's a weak attempt to justify himself, followed by an even weaker laugh, and his heartbeat speeds up as Namjoon stays silent for a moment.

Thankfully, Namjoon just laughs before replying: "What, so should I call you 'Babe' then?" 

Seokjin feels his ears turn red and he's eternally grateful to whatever god is out there that he decided to call instead of going over to Namjoon's house.

"Well, I mean, uh," Seokjin laughs nervously after a pause and rubs the back of his neck. "Might as well, right?" Namjoon lets out a low chuckle.

"Well, babe ," Seokjin tries to ignore the way his heart flutters. "Can't you do it yourself? You're pretty strong, aren't you?" Namjoon says and Seokjin just knows he'd be poking at his biceps if they were face to face. 

"Not as much as you. Together, we make a whole bodybuilder. Or 2/3rds at least." Seokjin argues. "Come on, it'll be easier if I have you with me." Seokjin winces at how cheesy that sounds, a pout forming on his lips.

"Don't wanna get up.." Namjoon whines, dragging out the last syllable. 

"You barely have to take two steps to get here!" Seokjin counters. 

"But I'm tired..." Namjoon's voice gets intolerably cute and Seokjin can't suppress the small smile that spreads across his lips. "Do you really have to do this now?" 

"When else am I going to do it? After we're sore from 10 000 hours of dance practice?" Seokjin's voice gets into that usual tone when he—they bicker. He doesn't even know why he's arguing about this so vehemently, but Namjoon just brings out the captions side of him (and he loves it).

"Come on, I'll even cook for you if you do this for me." He bargains.

Namjoon hums as if pondering for a second before dramatically groaning. "Why do you even need to do this in the first place? I think your place looks nice as is." 

Seokjin clicks his tongue. "Namjoon-ah, can't I just want some change once in a while?" He sighs as though he's disappointed in the leader's lack of variability. 

"Well, why don't you ask Jungkook? He's stronger than all of us." 

Seokjin takes a moment before replying. "Well, you know how he is, he's just going to want to mess around instead of getting anything done." He lets out a small chuckle and waits a beat before continuing. 

"And maybe..." he swallows, "Maybe I just want to see you." Seokjin's voice gets soft. His hands play with the edges of his shirt as he looks down, as if ashamed of the admission. As if he'd see Namjoon's disapproving stare if he looked up. 

Logically, he knew it wasn't possible, not just because Namjoon wasn't home—but because Namjoon would never make him feel bad for anything. Realistically, Namjoon's eyes would soften at him, that comforting look that always makes Seokjin's worries disappear. 

Still, he can't help how embarrassed he is, how he fidgets with his sleeves and keeps his gaze to the floor, how he lets out a low chuckle at the ridiculousness of it all as he waits for Namjoon to answer. 

"You saw me a few hours ago." 

"And?" 

He tries to come off as his usual confident self, but in reality, he's never felt more anxious. 

There's a pause on the other line. Only of about 5 seconds, but Seokjin's whole face heats up so much in that window of time, he swears he could fry an egg on it.

His cold hands reach up from his sleeves to cool down his ears. His heart pounds in his chest until he hears Namjoon exhale.

"Okay. I'll be there in a few." 

Seokjin feels the tension leave his body quickly, letting out a silent breath. "Namjoonie, you're the best." He says as he gets back to normal. "Love you!" He adds playfully. 

"Love you, too." Seokjin can feel Namjoon's smile through the phone, despite the slightly exasperated tone of his voice. 

Namjoon hangs up and Seokjin finally drops back onto the couch relaxes, the faint sound of the drama he didn't bother pausing preventing him from getting lost too deep into his thoughts.

It's not that he's never told Namjoon he misses him, but for some reason, this time, it's different. 

Maybe it's because they saw each other just that morning. 

Maybe it's because all the teasing from the others is actually starting to get to him and he can't stop thinking about how, in some weird, crazy, completely absurd way, they might be right.

He shakes the thoughts away, opting to start boiling some water and taking out two packets of Namjoon's favourite tea. 

It's 5:29pm by the time Namjoon gets to Seokjin's. 

He's all bundled up to face the cold temperatures of the harsh winter. The tip of his nose is red and Seokjin can't imagine him looking cuter. 

He mumbles something about how cold it is outside as Seokjin helps him out of his jacket. He indulges him by offering the cup of tea he's just started seeping.

Namjoon sits at the counter while Seokjin stands on the opposite side of it. He dips the teabag about seven times before setting it aside.

His green sweater is covering his hands as he lifts up the mug with both of them. Seokjin sees him shudder as he drinks a few gulps. Maybe Namjoon can look cuter, after all. 

God, when did he get so cute? When they'd first met, he was such a no-bullshit guy, yet now here he was; in Seokjin's home, hair messy and cheeks rosy, having faced the cold and snow just because Seokjin asked.

"So, where did you want to start?" Namjoon says as he sets the cup down, making Seokjin snap out of his reverie.

"Huh?" He tilts his head inquisitively.

Namjoon narrows his eyes at him. "You said you had some furniture to move." He says incredulously as another shiver passes through him, making him retreat into his collar like a turtle. A giant, adorable, clumsy turtle.

"Oh!" Seokjin shoots up. Since the phone call, he'd completely forgotten the excuse he made up, too caught up in the anticipation of seeing Namjoon. "Yeah, I was just thinking of rearranging the living room." He nods towards the living room where the drama still plays, before turning his attention back to the flushed man in front of him. 

Seokjin feels a soft smile forming itself again before he can stop it. Namjoon's face still has the tiniest hint of pink on his cheeks as he sniffs and Seokjin can't help but reach across the counter and cradle his face in his hands, squishing his cheeks together slightly. 

Namjoon shudders again. "Ah, hyung..." Namjoon begins to protest, but still leans into the touch of Seokjin's warm hands.

"Cute." Seokjin remarks and Namjoon isn't sure if he's talking to him or himself. Seokjin looks down on him as the latter closes his eyes and nuzzles further into his hands. 

His skin is cold but soft under Seokjin's touch. His mouth drops open slightly, almost like he's dozing off, thereby proving Seokjin wrong again: Namjoon can always be cuter, he concludes.

Once Namjoon's face has significantly warmed up, Seokjin trails further down to rest his hands right below his jaw, his thumbs absentmindedly rubbing Namjoon's cheeks. His fingers gently massage into the hair behind his head.

"Does that feel nice?" He asks lowly, his voice soothing but barely audible.

"Mhm..." Namjoon feels the heat spread through his body and it's a miracle he doesn't fall asleep in Seokjin's warm hands. He could stay like this forever, but something—something he's not wholly aware of—makes his eyes flutter open to look at the older man.

"Hyung." His voice is rough. He looks up through half-lidded eyes to notice Seokjin is even closer than when Namjoon closed his eyes. 

He brings his right hand up to rest against Seokjin's left, tilting his head ever so slightly. 

Their eyes are locked into one another's, neither daring to say a word. Namjoon can't think of anything but the way the soft pad of Seokjin's thumbs stroke his cheeks, the way his fingers thread through his hair, the way Seokjin's gaze flickers as though he can't choose an eye to stay focused on. 

But suddenly, it's all over—too quickly, in Namjoon's opinion. Seokjin's eyes widen a bit before pulling back and taking a deep breath. 

"We should get to it." He smiles softly at him—but it's only brief, taking no time to fall—and Namjoon finds himself doing the same, though he's still lost in his own thoughts. 

His chest feels tight with something he can't quite pinpoint—confusion? Disappointment, even? Whatever it is, he pushes it down deep enough so he won't have to think about it for a while. 

He hesitates for a beat and stares blankly at where Seokjin was just two seconds ago, before getting up and following Seokjin over to the living room. 

After... whatever this was, things are normal for the most part. Seokjin indicates the new intricate layout he's been thinking of, which barely makes sense to Namjoon (probably because he made it up on the spot, but Namjoon doesn't need to know that), but he listens anyway and tries his best to help move everything around. 

They joke and laugh at anything and everything like usual. 

They bicker when Namjoon does exactly what Seokjin asks, but the latter insists he's doing it wrong, as usual. 

They bicker when Namjoon, being the clumsiest person Seokjin's ever met, actually does things incorrectly, as usual.

"Yah, Namjoon!" Seokjin yells out as he sees Namjoon moving the TV stand.

"What happened to calling me 'honey'?" He teases with a goofy smile on his lips.

"You're not worthy of it!" He shoos Namjoon away.

"Hyung— Babe ," he corrects himself. Seokjin just laughs to hide the way the pet name makes his heart palpitate. "Don't you trust me?" Namjoon whines.

"No!" Seokjin replies immediately. "It's been like five times you've almost tipped the TV over! I didn't ask for your help so you could destroy my living room!" He glares at him.  "This isn't a rage room, you know!" 

They both laugh hard even if it isn't that funny, because that's just the way things are between them. They do so until they have to stop to catch their breaths, Namjoon falling back on the couch they've just moved. 

He looks over to Seokjin who still stands smiling. He's slightly turned to the side from Namjoon's view of him, when he brings his arms up over his head to stretch, making his shirt lift up enough to reveal the smooth skin of his waist and stomach. Namjoon swallows.

Okay so maybe not everything's been normal. 

That, in particular, has been happening a lot. Seokjin's shirt, while not tight or small on him—honestly, it fit him like a glove—happened to be pretty short. 

Short in the way that made it ride up whenever he moved, whenever he'd reach for something. 

And it was loose enough that when he'd bend down even slightly, it would slide up and hang down, revealing just enough skin to make Namjoon nervous.

He doesn't know why, though. They've all seen each other shirtless. Shit, they've all seen each other naked for god's sake. He's seen them like this more times than he can count. 

So why was it so different now? With Seokjin? 

It doesn't make sense, and yet every time he notices even the smallest bit of skin on him, he gets distracted. He can't concentrate on anything but the velocity of his heartbeat.

He doesn't know how much time has passed, but it must've been a little while because when he looks up, Seokjin is already watching him intently and his Adam's apple bobs when their eyes cross each other's paths.

Seokjin redirects his gaze to the floor in front of him and passes a hand through his hair in an attempt to cover the way his ears have gone red. 

Namjoon gets up in a rush and clears his throat. "So, uh, let's get back to it, huh?" He briefly pats Seokjin's back. Seokjin looks at him, his eyes slightly widened before he lets out a snort before agreeing. 

Things mostly settle down, except for the fact that Namjoon still feels like he'll faint every time he catches glimpse of Seokjin's slightly tan skin. 

They manage to get everything in order despite Seokjin's awful direction—courtesy of not planning a lie ahead of time—and take a step back to admire their work. 

"I hate it." Seokjin admits after a good six seconds.

"Hyung!" Namjoon turns to him looking and sounding betrayed.

"It was better in my head, okay?" Seokjin complains. "Now, I just want my old living room back..."

Namjoon groans. "Are you telling me you seriously made me come over here for nothing?" He rubs a hand over his face.

"Hey, you should've thought of that before getting a place so close to mine!" Seokjin teases. 

" Sorry for wanting to spend time with you!" Namjoon counters, but Seokjin doesn't argue back. He looks deep into his eyes for not even half a second and Namjoon can see the tips of his ears turn—or remain, really—red. But then he just laughs and slaps his arm weakly in protest. 

Namjoon walks across the room as he laughs at his turn. "I mean, I don't think it's bad. You just have to get used to it." He looks around.

"Yeah, yeah, I know..." Seokjin trails off as he pouts ever so slightly. God, Namjoon just wants to kiss that pout right off his face.

God, when did his lips become so... kissable ? 

Sure, they've always been alluring in some way, but Namjoon never really processed or thought of them this way. Thought of what they'd feel like on his own. 

His face heats up all of a sudden. What's wrong with him? He shouldn't be thinking of Seokjin like this. He's his hyung. One of his closest friends. That's ridiculous.

Seokjin just has really nice lips, that's all. Just an attribute that happens to be on his friend and band member. It's just a coincidence that the pair of plump pink lips happens to be attached to Seokjin's annoyingly good looking face. 

Seokjin claps loudly, snapping Namjoon out of his thoughts. "Guess I should start cooking like I promised, right?" 

Namjoon looks at the time. It's already 6:07pm. He didn't realize how much time passed, nor how hungry he is until now. He hums in agreement, not trusting his voice to be stable enough to speak up.

He sits down at the counter, swirling the last drops of tea in his cup as Seokjin starts preparing everything he needs. Namjoon watches him. 

He moves gracefully around the kitchen, so sure of himself in a way Namjoon can't help but admire. He can't tell if he wishes he was on his skill level or if he's glad he isn't and therefore gets to behold such a sight.

He props his head up on his hand as he peers at Seokjin who hums a song quietly. 

"Are you ever going to get off your ass and lend a hand?" Seokjin teases as he puts his hands on the counter in front of Namjoon.

Namjoon lifts his head up slightly. "What, you want me to help? I thought this was my reward." Namjoon sounds genuinely taken aback and upset.

"So I'm meant to do all the work? What am I, your personal chef?" Seokjin argues.

"For tonight, yes!" Namjoon's posture straightens up. 

Seokjin scoffs. He opens and closes his mouth before responding, like he's unsure of his next words. His breathing gets uneven, which he prays Namjoon doesn't notice.

" Honey ..." he tries his hardest to keep his voice from quivering and to suppress a nervous smile from appearing. "I'm just asking for a little help. I worked a lot too, you know." He crosses his arms. 

His tone is sweet like velvet, and it makes Namjoon feel all kinds of things he knows he shouldn't.

"Well, baby ," Namjoon calls out in English and Seokjin feels a heat creeping up his neck, "You realize who you're asking, right?" He gives him a look. "You're asking me to help in the kitchen . Those never mix well together." He leans back in his chair. Seokjin rolls his eyes.

"Oh, come on, I'm not asking for much. Just hand me over some ingredients and stir some things." He counters. "Or I'm not cooking you anything." He gives him a challenging look. 

"That's not fair, you promised!" Namjoon expression forms into one of devastation.

"Did I?" Seokjin feigns musing. Namjoon narrows his eyes and Seokjin's whole body tingles when his tongue pushes up against his cheek. 

Fuck, why is that hot? The thought forms itself before Seokjin can control it, but Namjoon stands up, not letting him dwell on it.

"Fine." He sighs. "But if the kitchen burns down, don't say I didn't warn you." Namjoon points an accusatory finger at him. Seokjin swats his arm as he makes his way over to him.

Seokjin starts cooking as he makes Namjoon take out certain things and hand him over a variety of appliances Namjoon's never even seen. (How does one become acquainted with such inventions?) 

Namjoon moves around mechanically as he follows his hyung's orders. It's not like he didn't have enough of a backbone to refuse what Seokjin asks of him, he just... never really wanted to. Sure, they'd bicker and argue, but Namjoon would do just about anything Seokjin wants him to with little to no convincing. 

It's just a habit he's picked up, something he never questioned, never minded doing—he even liked it. Maybe that's why they were so often referred to as an old married couple.

Once everything's been taken out, Seokjin starts looking around for something, despite Namjoon following his directions to a tee, his lips slightly pursed. Namjoon tries his best not to stare.

"Namjoon, where's the round pan I asked you to take out?" He doesn't bother looking up at him, still searching around the counter.

"Right here." Namjoon picks up the nearest cookware by the handle. 

Seokjin looks over and his eyes immediately narrow. He looks up at Namjoon, who immediately tenses up and feels anxious under his stare. They might be close friends, but Seokjin is still his hyung. The eldest of their group. And he could be pretty damn scary when he gets mad. 

"Namjoon." Seokjin takes the item from Namjoon's hands carefully. Namjoon swallows down the lump in his throat. "This is a pot." Seokjin looks at him like he can't believe what he's witnessing. "How did you think this was a round pan?" He asks, dumbfounded, his words cut off by his notorious laugh.

"Well, it's round." He points to the curve of the pot ashamedly, which just makes Seokjin laugh more and throw his head back.

"Remind me never to ask you for help again," He says through his laughter as he sets the pot to the side, pretending to wipe tears from his eyes.

"It would be my pleasure." Namjoon laughs self-consciously and rubs the back of his head, looking down.

"Now, where is that..." Seokjin mumbles under his breath as he turns around. Namjoon looks over to him to offer help, but Seokjin does the worst thing imaginable. 

He bends down to one of the lower cupboards, looking deep inside as he rummages through the cookware. The words get stuck in Namjoon's throat when Seokjin's shirt is sliding up, revealing a sliver of skin as his pants sit snug on him, emphasizing the perfect rounded curve of—

Namjoon looks away. Or, at least tries to for more than three seconds. But his gaze drifts back, unable to be controlled. 

Seokjin's shifting slightly, mumbling something Namjoon can't make out. He's in a trance. He can't stop staring at Seokjin's ass. He tries not to—really—but it's like he's possessed. It's hard not to look when it's right in front of him. 

By now, the others would've taken the chance to spank him, but Namjoon can't, and not just because he was the one member who rarely did that type of thing. 

He swallows. Hard. And Seokjin finally (or unfortunately) stands back upright and turns to face him. 

"See, this is a round pan." He waves it around his face. Namjoon stutters an incoherent sound of acknowledgement. Seokjin's eyebrow raises.

"Namjoonie, are you okay?" Namjoon feels his whole face heat somehow even more at the nickname. 

Seokjin laughs slightly. "You're that embarrassed you didn't know what a round pan was?" He gets back to the stove. 

"Whatever." Namjoon says under his breath as he looks down. Yeah. He's just embarrassed because Seokjin's talented in cooking and Namjoon's... well, not. 

Seokjin looks back at him one last time, as if examining him. He gets the sense there's something more at play, but he's not sure what. (Or maybe he does have an idea, but he's not willing to acknowledge it.) 

His ears ring for a split second and he exhales through his nose, amused at how cute Namjoon could be even without realizing it, before going back to cooking. 

Seokjin practically floats around the kitchen. He doesn't even bother measuring anything and Namjoon just watches, amazed, despite having seen this exact sight multiple times. 

He leans back on the counter and his mouth already waters just from the aroma filling the room. 

"Here, taste this." Seokjin lifts up a spoon to Namjoon's mouth. The younger man hesitates for a second and Seokjin nudges him with the utensil. He opens his mouth and the other promptly shoves the food into it, making him wince from the heat. He breathes out heavily and fans his mouth frantically as the elder just laughs. 

"You could've warned me!" His words are barely comprehensible, his eyes are shut tight.

"Where's the fun in that?" Seokjin snickers. Namjoon glares at him as he chews and swallows the still burning hot food, his eyes watering the tiniest bit.

As much as he wants to be mad at Seokjin for melting his tastebuds off, it is one of the best things he's eaten. 

"It's good, right?" Seokjin asks with a smug grin. 

Namjoon knows he's not really asking. Seokjin already knows the answer, and for a second, Namjoon doesn't want to give in, doesn't want to give him the satisfaction, but Seokjin's expectant look—plus the fact that he's significantly closer in proximity—makes him break. 

"Yeah," he gulps down the food, "it's really good," He eventually admits, which is exactly what Seokjin wanted to hear, apparently, because his smile grows wider with pride.

"Here," he hands over the spoon to Namjoon, "Keep stirring this for a little bit. After five minutes, turn the heat down to the minimum." He instructs.

"Aye aye, captain." Namjoon says as he begins stirring meticulously. Seokjin rolls his eyes at him. 

For the next few minutes, Seokjin's talking about anything and everything. Namjoon can only drop a comment here and there, but he doesn't mind. He loves when Seokjin talks his ear off. He could sit and listen to him all day. 

His words go from complaints to excitement and he rambles on and on like he physically can't stop himself. He complains in that cute whiny tone and pouts slightly, but he also gets loud and riled up which is just as endearing. 

He rambles on about work aggravatedly, then the new drama he's started enthusiastically, making sure to describe every plot point in excruciating detail, and Namjoon just knows if his hands weren't preoccupied with cooking, he would be wildly gesturing around, as he does whenever he gets passionate about something. He even pitches his voice up at times to emphasize certain points. 

All Namjoon can do now is watch and listen, his eyes crinkling as he smiles and continues stirring the pot in front of him.

Seokjin's voice doesn't falter even as he finishes cooking and takes out plates to serve the both of them. That being until he looks over to Namjoon, then to the stove, then to the time, then Namjoon again, his eyes widening with every shift, and he soon takes the spoon from him and pushes him back. 

"Oh my god, how long have you been stirring that?"  He exclaims and reaches over to turn the stove off. 

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention," Namjoon looks worriedly over Seokjin's shoulder as he stirs to check the state of of the broth. 

"Ah, Namjoon!" He whines dramatically. "You're so bad at cooking, you couldn't remember to turn it down after just five minutes?" His eyebrows furrow as he looks down into the pot.

"I was distracted!" He tries to defend himself. "You kept talking and talking, I lost track of time!" 

"Oh, so now it's my fault?" He shakes his head mockingly, bringing the spoon up to his face to examine the bouillon.

"I didn't say that, I said you distract me." He specifies, moving back to lean on the counter.

Seokjin doesn't bother arguing further. Not that he could. It's no big deal he tells himself, because it really isn't. He can recognize that. But there's something about the way Namjoon said it, the way he admitted he gets distracted by Seokjin, that makes his breath catch in his throat as he moves the pot away from the burner. 

His mind's been all over the place today. The combination of everything, of the pet names, of the things Namjoon says just to act like nothing after, of the way their gazes linger on each other for a second too long, of the way he gets nervous over the smallest things Namjoon does (god knows why), makes his head spin in the worst way. 

It makes the drawer in which he's kept all these thoughts locked away overflow until it bursts and everything swirls around free in his head.

He doesn't know what this is. But he does know he needs to get himself under control before Namjoon notices his unsteady breathing and his pink ears (though, to be fair, his ears have been pink ever since Namjoon got here.)

Namjoon, for his part, doesn't seem to notice anything. He observes a mumbling, worried Seokjin from his spot near the opposite counter. Because yes, despite the bickering, Namjoon can't think of anything else worthy of occupying his mind. 

"Are you just gonna stand there and look pretty or are you gonna help me serve the food?" Seokjin shoots over his shoulder and his voice shakes slightly. 

"So now I'm pretty?" Namjoon teases as he walks over to the drawer next to Seokjin and starts taking out the utensils.

"Don't flatter yourself." Seokjin pokes his side with his elbow. Namjoon laughs as he goes to set the table. The sound reverberates through the room. 

Once Seokjin finishes plating everything, he makes his way to set the plates in front of Namjoon, who's already sat on one of the chairs. Seokjin takes the seats next to him. 

Namjoon picks up his chopsticks and lets out a small exclamation. "Looks really good," He remarks under his breath before taking a bite. 

Seokjin watches him as he chews, watching every reaction before he even bothers eating any. 

"Damn, this is good." His eyebrows furrow, which Seokjin takes as a compliment. Namjoon looking mad at food like it accused him of robbing an old lady was always a good sign. 

Seokjin can't contain the smile spreading across his face and takes a bite too, letting out a content hum.

"Thankfully, you didn't manage to burn it." Seokjin nudges him.

"Not only that, I made it even better." He claims proudly.

"What, by keeping it on the highest heat for twice as long as you should've?" Seokjin teases.

"No," Namjoon takes a pause to chew and swallow. "I added a secret ingredient." He takes another bite.

Seokjin immediately straightens up and drops his chopsticks. His eyes are wide as he looks at the other man still hunched over his plate. "Namjoon, what did you add?" He sounds worried—betrayed that he'd go behind his back like this, that he even managed to do so without Seokjin noticing.

Namjoon turns his gaze to him, serious, propping himself up on his hand as his earnest expression soon forms into a sly grin. "Love."

Seokjin, unable to prevent the small blush forming on his cheeks, lets out a dramatic noise of protest as he pushes a laughing Namjoon, who almost chokes on his food. 

It's such a cheesy line, the type of joke Seokjin himself would make usually. But coming from Namjoon, it makes his heart race. He needs to get his act together. 

Which is what he tries to do when they finish eating and putting the dishes away, sitting on the couch they moved just an hour or so ago. 

(Seokjin still hates the new layout, he doesn't think he'll ever get used to it, but he toughs it out for Namjoon's sake.) 

They put on a random variety show and sit close, their arms pushed up against each other's and their thighs cramped together despite the vast space on either side of the couch. 

It doesn't take long before Seokjin leans his head on Namjoon's shoulder. Namjoon takes the opportunity to rest an arm on the couch behind Seokjin. His hand dangles right next to the older man's shoulder, twitching like it's unsure if it should rest on it or not. 

Neither of them pay much attention to the show, more just enjoy each other's company, winding down for the day. 

Seokjin's hands idly fiddle with Namjoon's free one. He looks down at them, admiring Namjoon's long slim fingers despite his big hands. He brushes all five of them up and down before dropping to his palm, tracing every crease with his thumb like he's trying to memorize them. 

"Namjoonie," he speaks up for the first time since they've sat down, still holding onto the leader's hand with both his own. 

Namjoon hums. Seokjin's movements falter briefly. "Do you think the others are right?" His voice is so quiet Namjoon isn't sure he heard right. He takes a moment before responding.

"About what?" The vibrations of his deep voice resonate through Seokjin's ear. It makes him shudder. 

He takes in a shaky breath, "Us," his voice wavers, "How we act like a couple." He ekes out.

He feels Namjoon shift under his cheek, making him tilt his head back up to look at him. Namjoon's gaze locks in on him, his expression unreadable.

The world around fades away. All Namjoon can hear is Seokjin's slightly unsteady breathing. All he can see is Seokjin, still leaning into him, looking up with doe eyes, his mouth the slightest bit agape. He suddenly feels his heart beat like it's a convicted felon looking for an escape from the prison that is his chest. 

They're close. Too close. His chest rises and falls unevenly. Neither of them blink. 

He doesn't know how long they stay there, gazing into each other's eyes. 

Seokjin gulps. He goes to lift a hand up, but a ring from Namjoon's phone makes them jump—away from each other. 

Namjoon's hand moves away from Seokjin's grip to look at his phone, and the emptiness it leaves behind is almost unbearable. 

"It's Jimin." He retracts his hand from where it rests on the couch and picks up hesitantly.

Seokjin's not sure how the conversation goes. His thoughts block out all sound. He looks down at his hands like they're wrong, like they're tainted with something. 

His lips press into a thin line. They still sit close, but the atmosphere changed. 

It isn't comforting anymore. It isn't casual anymore. It isn't soothing anymore, like it always is when he's with Namjoon. 

Seokjin gets cold and his body shakes all of a sudden. He can't handle this. He needs to get his pull himself together.

He stands up abruptly and Namjoon looks over to him with something Seokjin can't quite place. 

He whispers something about needing to go to the bathroom and Namjoon just nods slowly, but it takes until Seokjin closes the door for him to focus back on the conversation.

Seokjin all but slams the door, fumbling as he locks it. He looks in the mirror. His reflection looks back at him, flushed pink, from his neck to his cheeks to his ears. It breathes heavily, mouth hanging open, shoulders slumped above the sink its hands grip. 

He looks down, turning the faucet on and splashing his face with cold water. One, two, three, four times in a row. 

It's awful. He hates it. The cold spreads through him quickly, trying to get himself to snap out of it, to stop himself from feeling whatever he feels, to keep himself from slipping, but it only adds to the already ever present chill deep in his bones.

He looks back up as the water drips from his head into the sink, the sound blending in with the stream of water.

Fuck. Why did he have to say that? He was hoping—expecting Namjoon to laugh it off and say how ridiculous it was. Or maybe he was hoping he'd say the opposite. That he'd give in. That he'd give Seokjin a sign that he wasn't crazy, that he wasn't the only one who's been noticing a weird shift between them. 

But Namjoon did neither. He just stared. 

Stared in a way that made Seokjin's heart race. Stared in a way that gave no hint as to what any of this was. What was he supposed to make of that? 

If Namjoon had brushed it off, at least Seokjin could push his feelings down somewhere he'd never have to confront them and everything would go back to normal. Just two normal friends who hang out often. Just two normal friends who happen to be in the same band. 

Just two normal friends who happen to live close, who happen to go home together, who happen to hang out because they miss each other—or, at least, the elder does—, even though they saw each other just that morning.

Seokjin looks down, shaking his head. What a coward he thinks. But he can't tell who exactly he's referring to. 

After a few minutes of gripping onto the sink like a lifeline, he finally manages to settle down a bit. He inhales deeply and his breathing slows down, his eyes shut tight.

He grabs a nearby towel to dry his face and the strands of hair that fall over his forehead. He looks back to his reflection once, a sight he can't tolerate, before unlocking the door.

Namjoon, meanwhile, is still on the phone with Jimin, but he can barely pay attention to whatever he says. He keeps zoning out and trailing off before Jimin snaps him out of it. 

"Was that Jin-hyung?" He had said after overhearing his voice. "You guys hanging out? Again?" He teased. Namjoon could practically hear his eyebrows wiggling, but he wasn't up for any of it at that moment. He couldn't even bother protesting.

He cleared his throat. "Yeah, uh, we just—" He trailed off. He didn't even know how to explain it to himself, much less to a third party. He cleared his throat again as his leg started to bounce. "What did you want?" His voice came out more irritated and tense than he intended, but he didn't do much to cover it up. 

Jimin seemed to get the message thankfully, his voice growing quieter and stammering a little on the first syllable. 

It's now about the sixth time Jimin has had to catch Namjoon's attention back. Namjoon, who doesn't even know what Jimin is asking of him, just mindlessly humming along.

"Hyung," he pauses, like he's waiting for an answer that'll never come. "Is everything okay? Did something happen?" He sounds worried. Namjoon's breath catches in his throat. 

"Yeah—" his voice is squeaky. He coughs, "yeah, everything's fine." He bites his bottom lip. There's a brief silence on Jimin's end.

"You sure?" He simply asks.

"Mhm." Namjoon simply replies.

Jimin sighs. "If you say so." He clicks his tongue. "I'll just call another time." 

"Mhm." 

"Love you." Jimin's voice is gentle on the other line. 

Namjoon takes a moment before replying "Love you, too." He hears Jimin sigh softly before hanging up. Namjoon lowers his hand down to his thigh.

He looks emptily at the wooden floorboards in front of him as he bites his thumb nail, a habit Seokjin always tries to have him break. 

Seokjin.

He still can't process what just happened. Only a few words were spoken between them, and yet he feels like it changed everything. The way he looked at him like he was waiting for something—but for what? Denial? 

Namjoon should've just denied it immediately. Seokjin can probably read him open now, like his feelings, which even he himself couldn't decipher, were merged into a book dropped into his lap. 

Maybe it was a look of worry—of disgust. As though the fact Namjoon didn't deny everything made him see the truth. As though Seokjin wanted him to deny to put himself at ease, so they could continue their fully platonic relationship like normal. 

Maybe he was repulsed by the idea and wanted Namjoon to be repulsed by it too. Maybe Namjoon not denying is what made Seokjin repulse him too. Maybe that's why he ran away to the bathroom.

And maybe that's why when he finally comes back, he sits close enough that Namjoon can feel his weight dip the couch, but far enough that they're not touching in any way. Far enough that Namjoon can feel the phantom of Seokjin's touch. 

He doesn't dare looking over.

Seokjin crosses his arms over his torso, fingers tapping his bicep like they don't know anything else. He can't prevent himself from sneaking glances in Namjoon's direction as though they're magnets, his eyes instinctively drawn to him, but Seokjin holds them back as much as he can.

Namjoon bites his thumb nail again. Seokjin has to fight back the urge to reach out and tell him to stop. 

A habit Seokjin should break, he thinks.

The TV still flashes in the dim living room, the low sound filling the otherwise awkward silence. 

Namjoon's gaze is fixated on it. He can see Seokjin's subtle looks from the corner of his eye, but tries to focus on the show playing in front of him. 

A sketch starts to play out, featuring two women, one with her hair tied and hidden underneath a hat and bad makeup made to resemble a moustache and goatee. 

The sketch depicts an over exaggerated drama in which the two main characters tiptoe around their feelings. Everyone but them can tell what's going on between the two; they exchange gifts, practically go on dates, the girl holds onto the guy's arm, and they say the word "love" to each other way too many times for the word "platonic" to remain accurate. 

They get too close for it to be casual, they almost kiss before being interrupted, all for them to turn around and their inner monologues to be pondering on whether the other likes them. 

The crowd laughs and laughs, but it couldn't be more silent in Seokjin's home. Namjoon's leg bounces. Seokjin shifts uncomfortably. He feels like he's too seconds away from exploding. 

He doesn't know how much longer he can hold on. His heart thumps fast in his chest, his hands tighten around his upper arm. 

He knows he shouldn't, but he can't keep it in anymore. This has been going on too long. He truly thinks he's going insane. He needs an answer. Even if he knows it'll end in a train wreck.

Gathering his courage, he takes a deep breath and opens his mouth to speak—

"Hyung." is all Namjoon says, eyes still latched onto the screen before turning to Seokjin, whose words die on his tongue. 

His eyes are narrow, his eyebrows furrowed. Seokjin's breathing hitches as he waits (im)patiently, sight blurring everything except Namjoon.

Namjoon doesn't say anything else. Then, briefly, so brief Seokjin barely notices, Namjoon's gaze flickers down to his lips, and that's all it takes. 

Seokjin drags Namjoon to him by the collar as he leans in. Their lips crash messily and it hurts slightly, but it's also the best feeling he's ever experienced. 

Namjoon's hands instinctively settle on Seokjin's waist. The kiss lasts no more than 3 seconds before Seokjin pulls back an inch and opens his eyes to look at Namjoon, who adopts a confused look.

But not because of the kiss. No, Namjoon is confused as to why Seokjin pulled back. 

Then he realizes: he's giving him an out. He's giving him the chance to push him back, which just confuses Namjoon even more. 

Who in their right mind would reject him? He's the most beautiful person he's ever had the chance to lay eyes on. He'd have to be put in a psych ward if he refused him. 

He already thinks it's a miracle they ended up in the same group and became such good friends. But now—now, he somehow has Seokjin wanting him. Wanting to kiss him and do god knows what else. 

He gulps. His grip tightens around Seokjin's waist, pulling him close once more. Seokjin sighs into his lips the moment they touch, a wave of relief crashing over him. It starts off slow and gentle, but he wastes no time tilting his head and deepening it. 

It's intense and it's fast, like they've been on a lone island deprived of food for years and they're each other's only life source. 

Namjoon is first to slip a tongue in, coaxing Seokjin open, making his breath catch, a rush of heat overtaking any of the lingering chill. Their teeth crash, their tongues dance together chaotically in each other's mouths, it's wet and hot and it's the best they've ever felt. They breathe heavily through their noses, feeling the soft breeze on each other's cheeks. 

Seokjin loosens his grip on Namjoon's collar and brings both his hands up to rest on his shoulders. He pulls him in even deeper, if that's even possible. 

His hands clutch Namjoon as he swiftly moves over to straddle his lap, still not breaking the kiss. But then Namjoon's grasp weakens and trails down slightly, and Seokjin can't help rethinking everything. 

He pulls back after what feels like an eternity, but still not going far, letting their breaths mingle as they both pant heavily. Namjoon looks up through half-lidded eyes. Seokjin licks and sucks at his own bottom lip. 

"Do you want to do this?" His voice is low.

Namjoon's breath hitches and he swallows. "Yes." He says without a second thought.

That's all the confirmation Seokjin needs before diving back in, kissing him like it's all he knows. It takes all the wind out of him , but he doesn't care. He's been craving this for far too long. He didn't even know how bad he needed this, but now that he does, he's not sure he can get himself to stop.

His hands roam anywhere and everywhere they can. They trail down Namjoon's chest before making their way back to his shoulders, to his neck, to his cheeks, pulling him impossibly close. 

Not that Namjoon's complaining. His own hands trail up and down Seokjin's back, pulling him flush against himself. He holds on tight like he's afraid to let go, like if he does, Seokjin will slip right through his fingers. 

He moves back down to Seokjin's waist to sneak under his shirt, sending a shiver through him. Namjoon's big, warm hands wander from the soft skin of his chest to his stomach to his back. Almost on instinct, Seokjin's hips grind forward into Namjoon's, making him choke into the elder's mouth as Seokjin lets out a small moan. 

They've both held back so long, they can't even pretend to care about what any of this means anymore, entranced by the need for each other's touch. 

Namjoon's hands push Seokjin's shirt up and Seokjin breaks the kiss for the sake of discarding it, hands quickly finding their way back to Namjoon. Namjoon looks him up and down, admiring him, which makes Seokjin's chest heave. 

Sure, he's always been confident in the way he looks—he was one of if not the most handsome men in Korea, after all—but now, with Namjoon's eyes raking over him, his hands tracing his sides, he feels uncharacteristically self-conscious. 

He shifts uncomfortably in his lap, but it does little to help as he just ends up rubbing up against Namjoon's growing erection a second time. Fuck. He's already so hard. 

Namjoon groans and lunges to Seokjin's neck, making the older man throw his head back slightly as he lets out breathy moans and pulls at his hair. Namjoon licks, sucks and nips at Seokjin's soft skin from his neck to his chest, leaving marks everywhere he can, and Seokjin lets him, because they don't have the time (nor the cognizance) to think about consequences. 

Namjoon pulls him closer, but it's just a reminder of the remaining barrier between them. Seokjin's hands drop down to Namjoon's sweater, tugging and pulling like it personally wronged him. 

Thankfully, Namjoon gets the message and slides it off before Seokjin rips it to pieces. He doesn't take long before pulling him back in. The skin-on-skin contact makes Seokjin exhale contentedly in Namjoon's mouth, like he's finally where he's meant to be.

Seokjin continues to grind his hips against Namjoon's. His hands are all over the younger's face, whether pulling at his hair, resting on his jaw, or curling behind the nape of his neck as he practically smushes Namjoon's cheeks into his own. 

Namjoon's hands start to dip lower, brushing against the waistband of Seokjin's pants, before going even lower to squeeze his ass. Seokjin lets out a surprised gasp, his eyes squeezing shut tighter. Namjoon's hands continue to fondle and grip him following circular motions, drawing soft sounds from the back of Seokjin's throat. Seokjin isn't sure how much more he can endure. He's so hard it hurts. 

He pulls back just enough to look Namjoon in the eyes, their lips glistening as a string of saliva still connects them for a second. They both pant, breaths hot against their skin. Seokjin's thumbs caress the younger's cheeks gently. 

"Wait here." In a swift, but not-so elegant, motion, he stands up off of Namjoon's lap to make his way to his room. 

He tries to walk gently, slowly (he still needs to safe face, after all), but the second he's out of Namjoon's line of sight, he hurries and scrambles frantically to find lube and a condom. 

The lube simply sits in his bedside drawer, but he still manages to struggle grabbing it, just to drop it after. 

When he gets to the condoms, there are a few left in a strip, and instead of ripping one off, he manages to rip one open, giving himself a barely noticeable cut. He curses under his breath before trying again. 

For some reason, he finds they're absolutely impossible to tear properly, so he opts for bringing them all at once and letting Namjoon take care of it when they get there. 

He rushes out of the room, not bothering to shut the door fully. But the second he notices Namjoon, he dramatically slows his pace, acting like he wasn't just tripping over himself. (Too late, though, because Namjoon notices and thinks it's somehow both cute and hot how in a hurry Seokjin is.)

Seokjin all but throws the objects on the couch besides Namjoon as he settles back onto his lap, resuming the previous motion. They kiss somehow even more intensely than before, as though the single minute they spent apart was an eternity. 

Namjoon wastes no time hooking his fingers underneath Seokjin's waistband, pulling him impossibly closer as he lifts his hips to meet Seokjin's movements. 

Through a random spur of confidence—or maybe it's just horniness—Seokjin puts his hands overtop Namjoon's to guide his pants down along with his boxers. 

Seokjin's hands settle back onto Namjoon's shoulders as the leader's own explore over the newly exposed skin from his thighs to his ass, caressing the soft warmth underneath his fingertips. 

His hands move hastily over every small curve and dip of his skin, like he's addicted to the feeling, like he desperately wants to feel all of him. His hands squeeze the firm muscle of Seokjin's backside, which is met by a faint hitch of the older's breath. 

It's not long after that he feels something cool hit his stomach. He pulls back slightly to look down to see Seokjin's cock already leaking of precum, twitching, barely perceptibly, under his gaze. 

Seokjin's eyes grow wide and he turns his head away. His face flushes and he can't help but think this has to be the single most humiliating moment of his life. 

Namjoon looks back up to a blushing Seokjin, and grabs hold of his chin to tilt him back towards him. Seokjin's pupils are blown wide, his parted lips are red and swollen, his eyebrows furrowed from embarrassment. Fuck, he's pretty.

"Fuck, you're pretty." Namjoon lets slip unconsciously. He feels Seokjin's cock twitch against him again as the elder's eyes grow wider, and it's the hottest thing Namjoon's ever seen. 

His lips form into a shit-eating grin and Seokjin wants to wipe it off him immediately, but before he gets a chance to, Namjoon tilts Seokjin's head down and kisses him. Softly, barely there this time. Just one, two brief touches of their lips before his free hand drifts to the front to wrap around Seokjin's cock. 

Seokjin moans softly, breaking the kiss, and instinctively bucks his hips forward as Namjoon strokes him deliberately. His movements are languid, his thumb brushes over the tip to smear the precum all over the head. 

His hand moves up and down again, spreading the liquid out, the sensation making Seokjin whimper. His hand flies to cover his mouth, absolutely mortified, but it does nothing to help the noises still coming from the back of his throat. 

Namjoon reaches up with his other hand to guide Seokjin's away. "Don't hide." He whispers. "I want to hear you." His low, natural voice comes out, leading to Seokjin letting out a whimper louder than the others. His hand twitches like it wants to shut himself up again, but Namjoon still has a firm grip on it, restricting all movements. 

Namjoon pumps his hand in a way that has Seokjin reeling, his head thrown back slightly as he feels Namjoon's gaze on him. Namjoon feels his pulse through his cock, every spasm and tremor, like the anticipation has been building for far too long. He watches attentively as Seokjin's mouth drops further and his eyebrows hitch up, his moans growing louder and filthier, like Seokjin doesn't care anymore, like he can't get enough. 

If it wasn't for Namjoon's own erection, he swears he could do this all night; jerking Seokjin off as he sits on his lap, his head thrown back, exposing his neck (which Namjoon can't deny he's always had a thing for), his moans unrestrained until he shudders and covers Namjoon's hand in cum. He hopes, someday, Seokjin will let him, but that's for another time. 

His movements speed up at the thought without realizing it, Seokjin's breathing quickens, his moans growing louder and louder until has to grab hold of his wrist to stop Namjoon. 

He drops his head forward, chest heaving as he bites his lip and tries to catch his breath and to not cum all over the younger's hand. "Sorry..." his voice is small. "I didn't want to..." he doesn't finish his sentence, looking up at Namjoon with a guilty look. 

Namjoon understands rather quickly, smirking ever so slightly as he retracts his hand and settles it on Seokjin's thigh. All he does for a short while is rub at his leg and kiss his clavicle softly, giving Seokjin a small break. Even that simple touch is enough to send a shiver down his spine. 

"You okay?" Namjoon asks after a minute. 

Seokjin breathes out, "Yeah." His chest still heaves and his breath still hitches, but it's much calmer than it was a few moments ago.

Namjoon places one last kiss to his collarbone before reaching over to grab the bottle of lube that lay abandoned on the cushions. Seokjin watches him pop the cap open and spread the lube through his fingers, his body shuddering with anticipation. 

"Tell me if it's too much, okay?"

Seokjin nods. Namjoon reaches back with both his hands, the left one spreading Seokjin open as the right circles the rim. Seokjin squirms under the touch, pushing back as an open invitation, which would embarrass him if he wasn't so goddamn horny.

Namjoon's gaze stays fixed on Seokjin's as he finally pushes a finger through. The sensation feels intrusive at first and Seokjin holds his breath. When Namjoon's finger is fully in, he waits a beat so as to not overwhelm him, waiting for a sign to continue, which doesn't take long. 

"You can move." Seokjin breathes out shakily.

Namjoon pulls out slightly before moving back in, earning a small noise from Seokjin. He pumps his finger in and out steadily, the discomfort quickly letting way to the pleasure. 

Seokjin starts pushing his hips back to meet Namjoon's movements, and the younger takes the opportunity to slip in a second finger. Seokjin gasps at the sudden intrusion, his movements stilling. 

He looks at Namjoon, blinking slowly. He's suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he's fully exposed to Namjoon, who's fingering him, while the latter, although shirtless, is still mostly covered up. 

It's unfair.

He feels a rush of uneasiness, and his hands crawl down to his pants, quickly moving to unbutton them. He keeps his eyes on Namjoon's as his hands clumsily fiddle at the waistband. God, when did pants get so hard to undo? 

Namjoon can see the frustration building within him as his jaw clenches and eyebrows knit together, and his impatience just turns him on even more. 

He spreads his fingers in Seokjin's ass, scissoring him. Seokjin's face immediately softens and his fingers halt. Namjoon continues to dig into him, working him open as Seokjin's hands resume their movements shakily, popping the button open and unzipping them with urgency. Namjoon lifts his hips up to help Seokjin slide them off, the pants soon followed by his boxers, and the shift makes his fingers delve even deeper, gaining a louder moan out of Seokjin. His hand speeds up, penetrating further into him. 

Seokjin, meanwhile, drops his gaze down to see Namjoon's cock. He whimpers even louder at the sight, closing his eyes shut like he can't even handle the view. He looks back up to Namjoon and lets his fingers dance lightly against his cock which jerks against his touch. 

Namjoon's breath stutters. He can't wait much longer. He slips a third finger inside, making Seokjin's fingers twist into the skin of his stomach. He feels the muscle constrict around his fingers, inducing another twitch from his cock, which Seokjin notices. 

He spits into his hand, maintaining eye contact as Namjoon's breath stutters, and wraps it around him, stroking with just the right amount of pressure that makes Namjoon's head fall back as he lets out a groan. His cock is big and hefty against Seokjin's palm. He doesn't even bother starting off slow; he gets to the point right away. 

Namjoon's left hand grips Seokjin's ass tighter and he leans in to capture his lips, as to distract him from his fingers starting to move. Seokjin gasps and groans against his lips, his own hand faltering against Namjoon's cock, resting at the base. Namjoon swallows up every sound as his pace increases, until Seokjin's back arches away from him, a loud moan escaping him.

"There..." his voice is strained "Right there..." His hands reach up to grip Namjoon's shoulders tight. Namjoon continues the motion, curling his fingers just right as he hits the same spot over and over. Seokjin whimpers and shakes over him, unable to contain himself. 

"Namjoon-ah.." His hands move up to his face, then back down to his chest, touching anywhere he can, like he doesn't know what else to do with them. 

"You ready?" Namjoon's voice is strained. 

While, yes, he wants to make sure Seokjin is adequately prepared—the last thing he'd want to do is hurt him—,he's not sure how much more he can take. He swears he could cum just from seeing Seokjin like this. His hips are already bucking up, chasing an absent friction. 

Seokjin nods frantically. "Please." He begs. His whole body is shaking as he moans and whimpers uncontrollably.

Namjoon's fingers waste no time pulling out, Seokjin whining at the now unfamiliar hollowness. Namjoon reaches over for the condoms quickly, but Seokjin snatches it from him. 

"You're clean, right?" He clutches the wrappers. 

Namjoon nods.

"Good." He says as he carelessly tosses the condom strip somewhere on the floor. He leans in, his mouth just inches away from Namjoon's. "I want to feel you." He presses their lips together briefly, swallowing the faint groan the Namjoon lets out. 

Namjoon taps the couch next to him aimlessly, frenetically searching for the bottle of lube, but also not wanting to tear his eyes away from Seokjin as though it would be a waste to miss any one millisecond. 

His face grows tense after a short time of tapping the cushions to no avail, while Seokjin watches him with a small amused smile from a small discovery:

Namjoon's just as desperate as him. 

Namjoon frowns and reluctantly looks to his side to grab the damn bottle, but soon finds it isn't there. His face contorts even further, turning his attention back to Seokjin, only to discover him leaning slightly to pick up the lube on the opposite side rather gracefully (unlike Namjoon). 

He pops the cap open with his thumb, and gently grabs hold of Namjoon's cock with his other hand, holding it gently between his index and his thumb. He tilts it towards himself slightly, and squeezes the lube out onto it. 

He pours some on the head and the length, the coolness making Namjoon's hips twitch. Seokjin's face is calm and collected, but Namjoon notices the hitch in his breath, the way his eyes stay half-lidded, the way his lips part slightly, giving him away. 

After Seokjin pours a generous amount onto Namjoon, he looks back up to him as he takes the latter's right hand, still damp from when he was working Seokjin open just mere moments ago, and guides it to his own cock. 

Namjoon wraps around himself, Seokjin mirroring the movement overtop the younger's hand. He guides them together, slowly pumping and spreading the liquid all the way up and down. Namjoon lets out a shaky exhale.

The room is dim around them. The night sky overtaking the room, the only light emerges from the TV that still quietly plays in the background. It illuminates Namjoon's face, allowing Seokjin to see every detail, every mole, every pore and every expression. 

His skin is flushed pink. His lips are red. His hair is a mess. His eyebrows arched up together just enough for Seokjin to notice, showing how much the anticipation has been building within him, how badly he wants this.

On Namjoon's side, the soft glow of the TV creates a glorious aura contouring Seokjin's shape. It makes him look even more like an angel come down specially for Namjoon. 

His face is dim but he can still the soft glint in his eyes and the way the tips of his ears burn red. He can still see his slick swollen plump lips and he can't tear his gaze away. 

His lips were always breathtaking; he's caught himself staring at them more times than he'd like to admit. And now he finally gets to feel them, to kiss them. He doesn't know how he ended up here or how he got so lucky, even if it is just a one time thing, but he knows he'll forever be grateful. 

Seokjin brings his free hand up to tuck a stray hair behind Namjoon's ear. It stays there, on his jaw, just under his ear, as his thumb brushes over the soft warm skin of his cheek before caressing his bottom lip. He feels Namjoon's hot breath against the pad of his thumb and tugs his bottom lip down slightly to give himself more access as he leans in. 

He guides Namjoon's hand away, replacing it with his own as he strokes and flicks his hand with maddening precision. 

"You like that?" He coos against Namjoon's lips, though he knows the answer already. He has Namjoon writhing and moaning into his mouth, sounding and looking more wrecked than Seokjin's ever seen him. And he loves it.

"Mhm" Namjoon hums, his voice a higher pitch than his usual rich, smooth one. And weirdly enough, that turns Seokjin on just as much as his deep voice. 

"Yeah," Seokjin kisses him, "I know you do," he leaves a minute amount of lazy, sloppy kisses on the leader's mouth. 

He pulls away from the kiss to finally position himself above Namjoon's cock, guiding it at the same time. Namjoon moves his hips closer to the edge of the couch to help. 

When the older man angles them properly, he looks back to Namjoon. He wants to see every single reaction when he finally takes him in. 

Though, that proves to be harder than he expected, because when he sinks down, Namjoon's much bigger than he's used to. 

He only takes in a few inches, but he already feels like he's being impossibly stretched and his head falls forward, squeezing his eyes shut as his knuckles turn white against Namjoon's shoulders. 

Namjoon gently rubs at his sides comfortingly, which does manage to soothe Seokjin, who only takes a few seconds before taking all of him in, making them both moan in unison. 

He takes a moment before shifting in circular motions to get himself used to the feeling. Namjoon still gently caresses his thighs and waist, his hands faltering just a little at Seokjin's movements.

Seokjin's walls are hot and tight around Namjoon, the feeling of him indescribable. His cock is engulfed in the wet heat of Seokjin's hole and he has to restrain himself from pounding up into him right away. 

Seokjin finally moves his hips up to slam back down again. It hurts slightly because of the sheer size of Namjoon, but Seokjin doesn't mind it (maybe even likes it). 

His fingers curl behind the nape of Namjoon's neck as he sets a steady rhythm, the sting turning to pleasure in no time. His head falls back slightly as his pace increases and his moans grow louder. 

Namjoon groans at the sight of Seokjin, who blushes as he moves up and down on top of him, the soft glow of the TV making him look like a dream (which he's ashamed to admit he's had on multiple occasions). He's beautiful. 

"Hyung," he moans, his hips buck up once unintentionally, but he does nothing to prevent it. His once soft touch turns into a tight grip at Seokjin's hips. 

Seokjin lets out a short laugh and tilts his head back down to look at Namjoon. "You're still calling me that while we're fucking?" He says as his hips sink down harshly at just the right angle, the slight change having them moaning at a higher pitch. 

"Well, I just—" Namjoon begins, but it’s hard to find the words when Seokjin moves his hips deliberately. "I'm not used to..." he trails off as he exhales heavily. 

"Namjoon." Seokjin says as a warning, but it comes out more needy than he'd like. They're close now, breaths mingling with one another's. 

"Jin." Namjoon breathes out as he lifts his hips to meet Seokjin's movements. Seokjin's eyes squeeze shut at the sensation, the pace and intensity increasing between them. 

His cock twitches between them, resting on the expanse of Namjoon's stomach. His head falls to Namjoon's shoulder, one hand resting on his chest as the other wraps around his neck to tug at the leader's hair desperately.

Namjoon bucks his hips faster and faster, Seokjin completely at his mercy, helpless, as he whimpers into his ear. 

"Namjoon," he whines, almost like a plea, before practically screaming in pleasure as the younger finds a particular spot that makes Seokjin's whole body tense up. 

As Namjoon realizes this, he doesn't hesitate to push even harder, faster into that spot, his grip on Seokjin's hips firm as he keeps him in place. 

His moans, along with his movements, are unleashed now, while Seokjin makes the most filthy, unholy noises in his ear, and Namjoon can't help but think it might just become his new favourite sound. 

"Please..." Seokjin's words hitch, barely coherent, and Namjoon can tell he's close. 

He pulls his hips down in time with his thrusts, Seokjin's moans getting louder and higher and needier, until a particularly loud one breaks out. 

Seokjin's vision blurs, his head pounding and ears ringing, hand tightening its grip impossibly on Namjoon's hair, so much so that he might actually pull some out, his entire body shakes in pleasure as he cums in the small space between them, coating their bodies with the white, sticky substance. 

Namjoon never falters. He keeps going until Seokjin's body falls limp against his, his moans turning to whimpers as he crashes his whole body weight onto Namjoon's and his hand falls from his hair to his shoulder. 

"Fuck," Namjoon mutters under his breath as he feels the older clench tight around him, before pinning Seokjin down onto the couch. 

He's quick to realign himself and sink deep into him. Seokjin is hot and airtight around him and Namjoon can't resist pounding into him with as much force as he can muster. Seokjin's arms wrap around Namjoon's back, his hands clawing and scratching enough to hurt, enough that there'll no doubt be marks leftover. 

Namjoon attentively watches Seokjin's head loll from side to side as he sobs through the overstimulation. His legs instinctively jerk to close, but Namjoon's hands keep him open wide. He can barely catch his breath between his cries.

It's intoxicating, having Seokjin beneath him squirming and whining all from his doing, and he can feel himself getting closer. 

"Jin," He drops his head, his voice strained. His hips snap harder, faster, as his moans grow louder and more breathless, the pressure building and building until finally, finally, he snaps. 

His movements are out of control, uncoordinated and erratic as he cums, harder than he ever has in his life, filling Seokjin to the brim. The latter moans at the feeling, his back arching off the couch as Namjoon continues to thrust into him like his life depends on it.

Namjoon's movements come to a slow pace, until he buries himself deeply one last time, their bodies pressed up together, as they both finally get a moment to catch their breaths. 

They stay there a while, both coming down from the high, Namjoon still deep inside Seokjin. 

Seokjin's hands soothe the scratches he left behind mere minutes ago. Namjoon shivers slightly under the touch. 

Once his breathing steadies, he pulls out, Seokjin letting out a soft, almost inaudible moan at the loss. 

Namjoon moves down to his collarbone, leaving kisses across all the marks that have already blossomed from where he'd been sucking and biting at earlier. 

Seokjin's breathing is shaky and shallow. He tilts his head back to give Namjoon more access and his hand slides up to absentmindedly play with his hair. 

Namjoon gets to the hickey right under Seokjin's jaw, which he'll surely get in trouble with their makeup artists for, and moves back just enough to look Seokjin in the eyes. Seokjin, who still twirls his fingers around in his hair. 

He's so beautiful like this; hair a mess, eyes glassy and hooded, skin flushed and littered with red marks Namjoon himself made. 

Without letting himself think too much about it, he leans in to kiss him once more, softly, gently, slowly, like he's truly savouring it. They pull apart half-heartedly, having not a clue of how much time has passed since all of this begun. 

Seokjin's free hand drifts over to Namjoon's cheek, thumb softly caressing the smooth skin. 

"Wait here." Namjoon presses a soft but quick kiss to Seokjin's lips before getting up and out of Seokjin's sight. 

He heads over to the bathroom and grabs a towel form under the sink. He's been here enough times to know his way around Seokjin's apartment and know where he keeps every little thing (like the secret fancy chocolate he has to hide from himself, or else he'll eat them all in one go). 

He cleans himself up first, then runs a clean towel under some warm water, making sure to keep one side dry and wrung the other so it doesn't drip all over the floor. 

In the living room, meanwhile, Seokjin stares blankly at the ceiling. His mind is everywhere at once, he's still unable to wrap his head around everything that just happened. Where did this leave them? What would they be the following day? Did this even mean anything to Namjoon? 

He knows the last question is probably absurd. He saw the way Namjoon looked at him; so fondly and taken with him, like he wanted every inch of him then and forever. But there's still a small doubt that lingers in the back of his head despite himself.

He looks to the side, over at where the variety show still plays. It's coming to a close, ending with another sketch from the same women as earlier. Their friends finally push them together as they snap, pointing out all the ridiculous things they've done, but somehow still tiptoeing around their feelings for so long. 

The two main characters pause and look at each other, before the girl puts her hands on her hips and the man crosses his arms. "What have we been doing?" They ask in synch, completely dumbfounded at their own past behaviour. 

The pair ends up agreeing they've been acting stupid and could've been dating for long already if they hadn't been so delusional. 

The show ends on a shot of the bewildered couple kissing under the whoops of the audience. 

Seokjin sighs. 

He doesn't even notice Namjoon coming back until he feels the couch dip under his weight. His legs are still slightly spread, and Namjoon takes the opportunity to press the small towel between them to clean up the mess they both left behind. Seokjin winces and twitches slightly, still aching from the intensity of what happened. 

"Sorry," Namjoon mutters as he pulls back slightly. He resumes his movements, more slowly this time, moving up to Seokjin's stomach. 

Their eyes meet briefly. Namjoon's skin tingles at Seokjin's soft gaze that seems to hold answers to all questions in the universe but the ones he needs answered. 

He looks away to dry him off, and gets up to put the towel in the hamper that Seokjin keeps in the living room for some reason. ("It's more convenient, I can put my socks there when I get home and relax!" "You can't walk one meter to the laundry room?" "Ah, Namjoon, you have no sense of efficiency.")

He heads back to the sofa, picking up the neglectfully discarded clothing. He sits back down next to Seokjin, whose eyes have begun fluttering. 

He puts his underwear back on clumsily, then does the same for Seokjin, gently, making sure not to overwhelm him. 

Namjoon instinctively puts a hand on his knee and rubs it slightly when he pulls back. Though, he soon realizes maybe he shouldn't, considering it's just been a handful of minutes since they were having sex like the world was about to end. 

He doesn't move his hand.

He looks over to Seokjin, who looks like he's fighting sleep with everything he's got, blinking rapidly up at Namjoon. It's cute.

"You should go to sleep." Namjoon smiles fondly at him and pats his knee. Seokjin just nods, but takes in a sharp breath as he sits up. "Are you okay?" Namjoon's hands go up to his waist like he might break. 

"Fine." Seokjin lets out a heavy breath and looks over to him. Namjoon suddenly becomes hyperaware of how close they are, how his hands sit on the warm, soft skin of Seokjin's waist. 

Namjoon pulls back and frowns as he gets up. Seokjin was always like that; never wanting to burden anyone with how he feels. It never fails to upset Namjoon. 

Seokjin starts to get up, but he squeezes his eyes shut and holds his breath. Namjoon reaches out to grab hold of his hands. "Here," he helps Seokjin get up, the elder's legs wobbly as he stands. Namjoon smiles and lets out a soft breath. 

They walk slowly over to Seokjin's bedroom, and Seokjin plops himself down on the bed and under the covers as soon as they get there. Namjoon rummages through the third drawer to get some clothes for Seokjin to sleep in, and sets them down at the edge of the bed. 

"Thanks." Seokjin rubs at his eyes. 

Namjoon just stands at the edge of the bed awkwardly. Is he supposed to stay? To get in bed with him? Or should he leave as soon as possible? Oh, no. What if Seokjin wanted him to leave right after they were done? What if Seokjin doesn't want him here and was just being polite and—

"You can stay if you want." Seokjin fiddles with his hands. He pulls the covers down as an invitation. 

"Oh." Namjoon's brain buffers for a few seconds before eventually deciding that no, this isn't weird, this is completely normal and, rationally, opting to leave would cause more damage. 

He lays down on his back beside him.

Seokjin is turned towards him, his eyes heavy. Namjoon's head turns his way, his hands clutching at the blanket like it's the only thing keeping him afloat. His eyes flicker between Seokjin's eyes and his lips rapidly. 

He shouldn't be looking. He knows he shouldn't be looking, but it's stronger than him. How could he not when Seokjin somehow had the most breathtaking lips in all of mankind, the dip making them even more sinful. 

Seokjin's lips press together. He must've noticed Namjoon's gaze, because when he speaks up it's to say:

"You can kiss me, you know."

Namjoon's eyes grow wide, mirroring Seokjin's. "I mean, if you want." He adds quickly. "Like, I wouldn't mind if you did. Not that you should, but, you know, just..." Seokjin's words tumble out. He mentally curses himself and this fatigue for taking away all his self-control. "Uhm, you have the possibility to. If you want." 

Namjoon's gaze flickers down again, making Seokjin's heart swell. He turns to his side and tentatively puts a hand on Seokjin's arm. They stay there, simply staring at each other for a while, before Namjoon takes a deep breath and leans in. 

The kiss is soft and slow, contrasting with their earlier ones. Namjoon sighs into it and slides his hand down to Seokjin's hip. Seokjin reaches up to place a hand on Namjoon's chest, right on top of his heart. The steady thumping relaxes him as their mouths move together in unison. He can't think of a better place to be. 

When they pull apart, Namjoon's gaze is the same fond one as earlier, like Seokjin is the only important thing in the world. His heart skips a beat. 

"Goodnight, Namjoon." He smiles up at him. 

"Goodnight, Jin." The sound of his name on Namjoon's lips makes his ears heat. Namjoon places one last kiss to his lips before pulling him closer delicately so that Seokjin rests his head on his chest. 

They're pressed against one another, skin to skin, body heat mixing together, and it doesn't take long for Seokjin's breathing to even out under Namjoon. 

When Seokjin starts to stir awake, he feels weirdly hollow. Like a part of him is missing. He shifts around on the mattress and pats the warm space beside him. 

Warm empty space. He scrunches his face in confusion and slowly cracks open his right eye to be met with...

Nothing.

Just his lone hand against the rustled sheets. He turns onto his back and rubs his eyes before propping himself up on his elbow. He scans the room for any signs but finds none. He knows Namjoon can't have been gone long. The bed still holds his heat, his odor. 

He looks at the time. 10:13 AM. 

He sits up completely and passes a hand over his face. He should've known this would happen. He should've known this would just be a one-time thing for him. He probably thinks it was all a mistake. He probably never thought as much of it as Seokjin did.

His heart starts to beat faster, fully waking him up as he takes everything into account. What if their relationship can never be the same again? What if they become but colleagues after last night? Is he ever going to look at him the same again? Is Seokjin ever going to be able to call Namjoon up about something stupid just to get him to come over? Would Namjoon ever want to go home with him anymore?

His breathing grows increasingly laboured at all the possibilities bubbling up in his mind, but before they can erupt, he's distracted by a sound. 

Something small. Just a clang of cookware followed by a low, deep voice muttering a curse Seokjin can't quite make out. 

His thoughts are wiped from his memory, his mind now completely blank. 

He waits a beat before putting on the clothes he ignored last night, still at the edge of the bed, and making his way over to the kitchen discreetly.

He walks on his tiptoes, like he's walking in a savanna and is desperately trying to not be eaten by a lion. 

When he reaches the kitchen, he peeks his head around the corner to see Namjoon, with a pot in his hand, the counter full of water. His attention lowers down. Oh god. 

Namjoon's wearing his clothes. 

Which shouldn't be a big deal. It's not like he had planned to stay over the night before and brought an extra shirt and extra pants. They've all shared clothing before, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. But right now, after everything, it makes something in his stomach twist. 

Namjoon turns his head and their eyes meet.

"Oh, hyung..." Namjoon looks like a kid caught trying to teach his younger sibling curse words. Seokjin stands up straighter in the doorway at the sound of his voice, still slightly groggy from sleep. "Uh, I was just trying to wash the dishes. I thought about making breakfast, but, well, you know..." Namjoon scratches the back of his head. "I guess this wasn't a great idea either." He chuckles self-consciously before looking back to Seokjin, who still stares at him wide-eyed and standing awkwardly at the door. 

Namjoon's face grows worried. "Is... everything okay?" 

Seokjin's not sure why, but his first reaction is to make his way over to Namjoon, wrap his arms tight around him, bury his face in the crook of his neck and breathe him in deeply, all without second thought. 

Maybe he should still be worried. But he can't be bothered. The simple fact that Namjoon is still here, in his kitchen, in his shirt and pants, smell a mix of his and Seokjin's own, washing the dishes from the night before because even he knows he's the worst cook either of them have ever met, is so terribly endearing and comforting that Seokjin doesn't care anymore.

It takes Namjoon a second to register what's happening, but it's not long before he has his arms around Seokjin too, one hand on his back as the other envelops him but still holds the pot. His hands and forearms are wet. The water seeps through Seokjin's shirt. It's cold. But it makes Seokjin happier than ever and he squeezes him tighter. 

After God knows how long, Seokjin pulls back just enough to look into Namjoon's big brown eyes. The leader's cheeks have the faintest of blushes.  His lips are parted, hair still messy from sleep, pupils dilated as he looks at him. 

Seokjin can't help genuinely thinking this is the best Namjoon's ever looked. He takes a mental picture of him and tucks it away in its own drawer for safekeeping. 

He doesn't stop his brain from sending the signal down to his hands in order to make them trail up to Namjoon's neck and pull him in. 

Namjoon kisses him back almost immediately, damp fingers curling in Seokjin's shirt. The humidity sends a shiver through Seokjin. Or maybe it's the kiss. Either way, it's refreshing. 

Seokjin tilts his head to deepen the kiss, which is followed right away by a loud clattering sound, making the pair jump and pull apart.

Seokjin looks down behind him to notice the pot Namjoon had been holding. 

"Sorry.." Namjoon mumbles, but his grip on Seokjin doesn't loosen. 

Seokjin turns back to him. Usually, he'd nag Namjoon for dropping a brand new pot, but now, he just smiles brightly at him, giggles—yes, giggles , a rare sound Namjoon can never seem to get enough of—and pulls him back in to kiss him once more.

The pot can wait. 

(And months later, Seokjin still hasn't changed back the living room layout, despite how impractical it may be.)