Archive of Our Own ^beta

Yoongi can't hold back his growl of frustration as he rifles through their dresser drawers, upturning all of Namjoon's organizers.

"We might be out of condoms," Namjoon comments from the bed, propping his head up with one arm.

"You don't say," Yoongi deadpans, throwing him a flat stare over his shoulder.

Namjoon's laid out on his belly, his legs spread out wantonly, his torso twisted to face him. He pushes himself up on his arms and the dim glow of their bedroom lights catches on the curve of his waist as he moves. Yoongi can't help but stare at him and Namjoon smirks when he catches his eyes.

"See something you like?"

Yoongi scowls at him, shutting the drawer with more force than is necessary. "Could you shut up and be helpful for once in your life?"

Namjoon rolls his eyes and falls back to the bed, turning over on his back -- the exact opposite of helpful, because now Yoongi has an unobstructed view of his shameless erection, curving up towards his navel.

"Just fuck me raw then," he says with the same casual air he might use to offer coffee, "it's not like I've slept with anyone other than you for the past 2 years."

"You what?!" Yoongi asks, but he's already moving over with the lube he's procured from the drawers, slicking his fingers up and settling in between Namjoon's thick thighs.

Namjoon draws up his knees in response, feet flat against the mattress. The dusky pucker of his anus winks seductively and Namjoon groans when Yoongi presses wet fingers against it, massaging around his rim.

"Why so surprised," Namjoon says breathily once he gets his air back.

"Can you blame me?" Yoongi teases, nudging a finger into him just to watch him gasp. "You're so desperate for it."

"Another, another, I can take it," Namjoon near-whines. He relaxes around Yoongi, allowing him to slip in a second finger and Yoongi groans at the wet heat of him.

Namjoon smirks at him again, with his plush bottom lip bitten between his teeth. He looks like he has something infuriating on the tip of his tongue so Yoongi crooks his fingers and scissors them wide, and all Namjoon's words are lost to the moan that falls out of his mouth.

Yoongi smirks at him, raising an eyebrow. "What was that?"

Namjoon glares, but his eyelids flutter closed when Yoongi finds his prostate with practiced ease. "I was going to say, it's only for you."

"For me?"

He opens his eyes, looking up at Yoongi through lazy half-lids, "I'm only desperate for you."

Yoongi growls, pulling his fingers out and Namjoon, true to his word, pulls his knees up to his chest, every bit as desperate as he said he was. Yoongi lines up the head of his dick to Namjoon's hole and --

Okay, pause.

Fast forward.

Yoongi's at a café, head in his hands, with his two closest friends shrieking at him and attracting attention from half the store.

"Namjoon hasn't what?!!"

Yoongi drags his hands down his face so he can meet Seokjin and Hoseok's eyes over his fingertips. Not for the first time, he wonders what the fuck possessed him to introduce them to each other.

"Namjoon hasn't slept with anyone other than me in the past two years," he repeats, slower this time, since auditory processing seems to be such a chore for his friends at the moment.

"And he told you this, how?"

Yoongi groans, "Do you really have to know?"

Hoseok raises an eyebrow and Seokjin gives him a flat stare. Yoongi caves with a sigh, "During sex. I was asking if I needed to wear a condom."

"And you didn't think to push further?" Seokjin yells in disbelief.

"Oh, I think he pushed further alright," Hoseok comments dryly. Seokjin glares at him, giving him a smart slap to the thigh. Hoseok yelps. Yoongi ignores their antics in favor of slumping into a miserable heap on the tabletop.

"It was hot, okay? I got distracted," he mumbles into his folded hands.

Seokjin groans in response, rolling his eyes heavenward and Yoongi looks up at him balefully, "Don't you think you're overreacting? Maybe it was just dirty talk, or maybe it means nothing. I mean, it isn't like I have slept with anyone else these 2 years either."

"Yoongi-yah, you kind of don't sleep with other people. Period," Seokjin says, not unkindly, but he winces as he considers his next words, the way he does when he's trying to be delicate. "Namjoon, on the other hand…"

Hoseok interrupts him, throwing an arm around his shoulder. "What Jin-hyung is trying to say is that Namjoon's a whore, so it's weird that he hasn't been slutting around," he cheerfully explains, ignoring Seokjin's scandalized gasp and ducking out of the way of Seokjin's sharp elbow with preternatural grace. "Anyway," he continues, only a little out of breath from evading follow-up stabs number two and three, "if you really thought it didn't mean anything, would you be here?"

Yoongi doesn't reply and just slumps to the table in despair. Seokjin gives him a worried look, but Hoseok squints at him, crossing his arms.

"To be honest, if not for you telling me otherwise, I would've thought you guys were past casual territory long ago."

Yoongi frowns at him. "We're just housemates! Housemates with benefits," he protests. Hoseok raises an eyebrow.

"Are you sure Namjoon sees you the same way?"

And well, Yoongi doesn't have anything to say to that.

Hoseok sighs, "Look, it's not all bad, right? Namjoon's good for you! Before him, we were so worried about you. We thought you were going to be forever-alone. Crazy cat lady type, talking to walls and everything."

Yoongi scowls. That stings. "I was fine before Namjoon."

"Yes, you were," Seokjin jumps in, his tone somewhat patronizing, making Yoongi's scowl deepen, "but humans are social creatures, we're not meant to be alone, even a commitment-phobe like you."

"I wasn't alone! I had you guys! And I'm not a commitment-phobe!"

His statement is met by twin pitying expressions and Yoongi groans, giving up. "Alright, alright. I'll give dating him a go. That's what you wanted to hear, isn't it?"

The very thought feels like a vice grip around his throat. Hoseok fist pumps at the announcement, but Seokjin, ever perceptive, gets all these crows-feet lines of worry.

"Yoongi-cchi, we just care about you, you know that right?"

Yoongi swallows past it and manages a nod, "Yeah, hyung. Yeah, I do."

“I want to try dating you,” is how Yoongi decides to broach the subject, because he’s never been good with words the way Namjoon is. Namjoon favours metaphors and allegories, but all Yoongi can manage is the literary equivalent of blunt force trauma.

Namjoon is stunned for a moment, looking up wide-eyed and unblinking from the pages of his new poetry book, but he snaps the book shut along with his expression, and Yoongi shifts uncomfortably under the weight of his assessing stare.

“You want to try dating me,” Namjoon repeats without inflection. Yoongi gives him a sharp, jerky nod.

Namjoon sits up straight and puts his book aside. He licks his lips as he considers his next words, pink tongue darting out to wet his dusky red lips and Yoongi can't help the way his gaze drops to them. Something heavy roils in his stomach at the sight. Dread, he thinks, dread and guilt.

"May I ask why?" Namjoon finally asks.

Yoongi shrugs. "Just curious," he says, and it isn't exactly a lie, but it isn't the truth either.

Namjoon frowns as though he can sense that isn't all to it, but thankfully he doesn't pry any further. "Alright, sure," he says, leaning back against the couch cushions with his hands palms up by his sides, body language relaxed and open like an invitation, "We're dating then."

"What?! Just like that?"

"I'm easy," Namjoon grins, and he does look easy, slid halfway down the couch and head lolled back, the tan column of his throat exposed and bare, lazy brown irises tracking him through downy eyelashes. "You don't need to wine and dine me."

"And what if I want to?" Yoongi challenges like it's a dare, and Namjoon narrows his eyes.

"Never took you for the romantic sort, Min Yoongi-ssi," he says, and it's a joke, but it feels like an accusation.

"People change," Yoongi replies. "I can change," he means, but he keeps that to himself.

Namjoon scrutinizes him for a few minutes more but ultimately shrugs it off, swinging his stupidly long legs up into an indulgent spread along their couch, ankles hanging off the armrest. He picks his book up off his lap and props it open on his chest. "Well then, go right ahead," he says, unbothered, "I'm going back to my book now, if that's all."

Yoongi waves Namjoon off with a dismissive, "Yeah, yeah," relieved that the conversation is over.

All things considered, that had gone well. Great even. Yet, as he wanders away to his room, he finds can't brush away the lingering undercurrent of unease in his chest.

And that's how -- cut to present -- Yoongi finds himself here, between Taehyung and Jimin, who are absolutely delighted at being chosen to help him plan a date.

"It's a pity Namjoon-hyungie doesn't like seafood. So many beachfront seaside sunset viewings, just out of consideration," Jimin bemoans as he scrolls through Coupang.

Taehyung is also busily swiping, but through Instagram instead, though he pauses to brandish a picture at Yoongi, who squints. It's a couple enjoying dinner in outdoor seating, surrounded by greenery. "Ooh, ooh, hyung, you should totally take him here. Jimin and I went not long ago and the vibe is just--" he makes a kissing sound, waving his other hand around in an okay sign.

"Let me see," Jimin looks up, curious, and his eyes light up when he sees the picture. "Oh, yes. And hyung, the bathrooms are really clean. Wall to floor stalls." He winks.

"Thanks," Yoongi deadpans and Jimin gives him a blindingly bright smile.

"No problem!"

Yoongi facepalms. Hard. And since his hand is already there, he massages at his temples with his thumb, hoping to ease the headache that's building there.

No luck.

"I've got to ask though, hyung," Taehyung pipes up, and his phone gives a little click as he locks it and puts it away, "Don't get me wrong, I'm ecstatic to be helping you, but you're not the romantic type, why are you doing this?"

Yoongi groans, throwing himself back in his chair. "Why does everyone keep saying that? Namjoon said that too! What's wrong with me being romantic? I can be romantic if I want to be!" he protests.

This gets Jimin's attention and he looks up, narrowing his eyes. "Hyung, do you still remember Sehun-hyung? On your first anniversary, you took him fishing. Poor man got dressed up and everything and you showed up in basketball shorts."

"Look that was--"

"And Yongsun-noona, you brought her to a haunted house for a first date then hid behind her all night."

"The zombies were really scary!"

"And Youngjae, you remember Youngjae. You took him to laser tag on a date and he ran into one of the props so hard he got a black eye."

"To be fair, that was pretty funny," Yoongi says, laughing.

Both Jimin and Taehyung glare at him. Yoongi turns his laugh into a cough. They keep glaring at him. He sighs.

"Alright, fine. I don't have a romantic bone in my body."

Jimin nods, validated.

"But that's exactly why I have to do this!"

Taehyung hums, then squints, then shakes his head. "Nope, gonna need more than that. Hyung, what?"

Yoongi takes a deep breath to fortify himself. "You know Namjoon. He likes this sort of stuff. I just want to make him happy," he forces out the words. Welp, there goes his emotional expression quota for the year.

Jimin coos, but Taehyung is still unconvinced. "But hyung, I do know what Namjoon likes. He likes you!" Yoongi cringes at the pronouncement, but Taehyung soldiers on, willfully ignorant, "I don't think it matters so much what you do or don't do. If you guys are comfortable, why change it?"

"Because!"

Taehyung waits expectantly. Jimin has already returned to his phone.

"Because-- I don't know-- This situation is untenable, right?" Yoongi runs a hand through his hair, feeling like ripping it out in his frustration. "We can't just be fuckbuddies forever. We should be, I don't know-- more. Or something. He stopped seeing other people for me, I owe him this much."

Taehyung looks skeptical. "I don't know about that, hyung."

"But what I know is that Kwon Young Woo has an exhibit at the Kukje Gallery!" Jimin interrupts, gesturing excitedly with his phone.

"Oh that's… really not bad, Jimin-ah," Yoongi says, taking the phone from him. Taehyung pouts, making a little injured sniff, but allows Yoongi to get distracted.

"Just promise me you'll think on it, hyung," he tells him later when they're leaving, after Yoongi has has bought tickets for the exhibit at a discount that Jimin managed to procure through some devilish magic.

"I have," Yoongi says, and they part ways for home.

Yoongi really had thought about it.

Yoongi thought all the way back to when he first met Namjoon in the winter of 2015, when they were both dirt broke fresh grads applying for an internship with the same music production company. It was rivalry at first sight, which later evolved into a grudging sort of mutual respect, which then led to a reluctant cohabitation largely due to the horror that was property prices in Seoul. They slept together once after a rap battle they'd competed in together and liked the experience so much or at the least found it convenient enough that they kept on sleeping with each other.

Time passed, as it was wont to do, and before he knew it, they had been living together for over 5 years and their friendship Venn diagram had merged so fully it was just a single social circle.

Yoongi would have thought nothing of it -- had thought nothing of it, in fact, until one lazy summer evening found them both lounging on the couch in their living room watching a Netflix series together on the big screen. Namjoon was barely paying attention and was instead watching YouTube videos on low volume. Yoongi was no longer interested in the show either and was only watching out of sheer pride and stubbornness since he had been the one to convince Namjoon to forgo his documentary for this.

It was a rather common way to spend the evenings for them and it would have been otherwise uneventful, but then Namjoon had chuckled and called for him.

"Hyung, hyung, come see."

It was a video of a cat being wrangled into taking a shower. At that point in the video, it had accepted its fate, but not without protesting with the most mournful wails. A large golden retriever could be seen in the background, watching through the glass door with a rather human-like smile on its face. It joined in happily with barks from time to time.

Yoongi snorted a single "Hah," and said, "very cute, Joon-ah."

Namjoon nudged his way onto his lap, even though it was way too hot for skin to skin contact, and asked with the widest eyes, "Do you think we could get a cat and a dog, hyung?"

Then it was like everything crystallized.

He did want that. He wanted that and he wanted to argue with Namjoon about movie choices. He wanted that and to herd Namjoon away from the kitchen, to nag at him about how he'd lived till he was 30 and still didn't how to hold a knife the right way up. He wanted that and to listen to Namjoon sing off-key in the shower, have him read poetry with his feet up in the living room, watch him dance badly to a new song playing from his phone. He wanted all of this, all of it, with Namjoon. Possibly for forever. Definitely for forever.

As it turned out, Namjoon's question had been a hypothetical about the practicalities of having both a dog and a cat, but it started the gears churning.

Because such things belonged to romance, didn't it?

And Yoongi was particularly bad at romance, spectacularly bad at it, as Jimin and Taehyung had made quite clear. He wasn't quite sure if he could ever be good at it. In all of his relationships, it always felt like they wanted something he couldn't give, or something he didn't have, or that there was a rulebook everyone knew but no one gave to him, but somehow he was still expected to play by it. A good many of his exes had been his friends, but once they got together it was like they were strangers all over again, awkward laughter and never being able to make eye contact, and after they broke up they were even further estranged. Yoongi didn't want to push his closest friend away by starting something he couldn't live up to.

But still, Yoongi knew with a devastating certainty that he had to do something. It was that or lose Namjoon for good. And although trying would certainly mean failing, the only thing that could possibly be worse was not trying at all.

And that really should have been the end of it, except all of the people in Yoongi's life are meddling, nosey, busybodies that cannot keep a secret even if their life depended on it, and so:

He's in the studio with Jungkook, telling him, "Let's record this one last time," but instead of putting the headphones back on and directing his efforts to singing -- as is his job -- Jungkook goes, "Yoongi-hyung, I heard you're taking Namjoon-hyung on a date?"

He pushes the intercom button down so hard, it stays depressed for a few seconds. "How do you know that?" he growls.

Jungkook blinks, "Oh from everyone, just about. Jin-hyung mentioned it while we were on set and then Hobi-hyung mentioned it during dance practice, then Jimin-hyung said--"

Yoongi cuts him off, pushing the intercom once more. "Okay great, fuck. Fine. Yes. I am taking Namjoon out on a date. Though at this point it'll be a miracle if Namjoon doesn't know about it. Can we get back to recording now?"

"Hyung, but why are you taking him out on a date? No offense, but it really doesn't seem like your kind of thing."

Not this again. Yoongi groans and plants his face on the desk.

"Why does everyone say this?" he mumbles mournfully to himself, "I know it's not my thing, but it's Namjoon's! And why is it that the only two options are that it is a personal failing that I'm bad at it, or that I should just not try at all? I didn't choose to be bad at this and I don't want to try this either! I don't want to have to sit awkwardly in front of him at a fancy restaurant when we could get takeaway and eat in our pajamas, but what if I don't do this and he decides he wants takeaway in pajamas with someone else who can also do the awkward thing not-awkwardly? What then?!"

Jungkook peers through the glass pane separating them.

"You know I can hear you, right, hyung?"

Yoongi realizes that his forehead is on the intercom button.

"I don't mind. You sounded like you needed that. I won't tell anyone," Jungkook promises earnestly.

Yoongi does not raise his head off the sound mixer.

"Just get back to singing."

"No, wait, but how do you know it's Namjoon's thing? Like did he tell you he wanted this?"

Yoongi sighs, "He didn't have to say anything. Isn't it clear from his music? What's that he says in Trivia: Love, 'Like trees that shed their bark once a year / That you are the one who will give meaning to my memories' who even says shit like that?"

There's a pause and he raises his head off the intercom, looking up from the sound mixer. Jungkook is frowning pensively at him from where he stands in the recording room.

"I don't think that’s what it is though, hyung. Besides, you wrote Autumn Leaves and you're not—" Jungkook makes a vague wave, then squints. "Also, hyung, you've got uh… Like a square mark. On your forehead."

Yoongi groans, slamming his palm down on the intercom, "Oh my god, just. Shut up. And sing. Will you? Please, for the love of all things good."

Jungkook pouts, but he puts the headphones on. Yoongi presses play on the refrain and closes his eyes, giving all of his attention to Jungkook's delicate tenor as he sings the lyrics Namjoon wrote:

"All of my wonder / You're the answer."

And that's the most romantic thing Yoongi's ever heard, so honestly and with all due respect, Jungkook doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about.

On the day of, Yoongi is unbearably nervous, waiting outside Kukje Gallery in his best stone washed jeans and an uncomfortable gray blazer. He doesn't know what to do with his hands -- should he have brought flowers? -- so he messes around on his phone.

Namjoon arrives right on time, in a long brown coat layered over a cream shirt and black slacks, accentuating his height and the breadth of his shoulders. He smiles wide when he spots Yoongi, jogging over to him.

"Hyung!" he greets, panting lightly, "I hope you didn't wait long,"

"I just got here," Yoongi lies. He's been here for at least 15 minutes, wandering the area restlessly, because he couldn't bear another minute waiting at home. Yoongi wrests the thought away, forcing himself to smile and praying the end result isn't as stiff as it feels. "You look good, Joon-ah."

Namjoon's smile turns a touch awkward. One hand comes up to massage the back of his neck as he looks away. "Ah hyung! You look nice too."

It feels wrong somehow, that they're here stumbling over their words when they've known each other for over 10 years, but Yoongi grits his teeth behind his smile. He's committed to this and he'll see it through.

"Well, shall we?" he says, gesturing towards the gallery with an open hand. Namjoon nods, rocking forward eagerly on his toes and Yoongi feels the smile glued on his face turn a little more genuine at his enthusiasm.

The Kukje Gallery is a one-of-these-is-not-like-the-others type of construction, appearing abruptly between the traditional sloping, tiled roofs of the Korean architecture and modern urban glass and metal blocks surrounding it. It's a strict, almost imposing, concrete block, but its brutalist edges are softened by the stainless steel mesh covering it, making it so that from the right distance, it looks more like the concept of a structure than an actual building.

Namjoon points all of this out to him as they near the entrance, eyes bright as he gestures around. Yoongi makes a mental note to treat Jimin to barbecue as Namjoon waxes poetic about ingenuity of the architecture before they've even entered the gallery.

The exhibit elicits a similar reaction, the presentation of monochrome canvases inspiring a lecture on Dansaekhwa -- whispered, so as not to disturb the other patrons.

"It's amazing that such beautiful art was born during a time of such strife," Namjoon says lowly to him, voice full of awe. The artwork they are standing in front of is a cluster of artful rips in paper that look like rosettes in white. Namjoon is absorbed in his admiration of it, fingers twitching by his sides like he wants to reach out and touch.

Yoongi takes a breath to muster up his courage and slips his hand into Namjoon's. He can feel Namjoon startle a little, but to his credit, he doesn't say a word, just quietly returns his hold, even rubbing a thumb across the back of Yoongi's hand and Yoongi feels a little silly to have to be reassured even though he was the one to initiate it.

They wander the remainder of the exhibit like that, silent and awkwardly joined by the hands. Yoongi feels hyperaware of that singular point of contact, ardently wishing for voluntary control over his sweat glands so he can keep his palm from becoming clammy -- which of course is exactly happens.

They eventually separate when they leave the gallery. Yoongi tries not to be too obviously relieved, but it's short-lived. They keep close to each other the entire quiet walk home, shoulders bumping with every other step . There's a tension between them, one Yoongi can't quite identify or understand, but it's undeniably there, building and building as they walk home.

He's going to want to kiss me, he realises, heart sinking in dread.

Suddenly, it strikes him how ridiculous this entire situation is. He's been to art galleries with Namjoon before, he's walked Namjoon home before, he's kissed Namjoon before, so why does it feel like…

Like they have taken something so comfortable and familiar and twisted it into something unrecognizable.

Like they have walked into a mirror dimension where left is right and everything is just slightly off but it is exactly the same.

Like he's lying, like he's putting on a show, and he feels sick to his stomach with guilt and he wishes he could stop pretending, but he doesn't know how to without hurting Namjoon.

By his side, Namjoon comes to a stop and Yoongi steels himself, closing his eyes, waiting to be kissed, waiting for this to be over, but then--

Namjoon presses his forehead against his. His breath is a shuddering, stuttering thing against his upper lip.

"Hyung," he whispers into the sliver of space between them, "why are we doing this?"

Yoongi blinks his eyes open, stumbling backwards in shock, but Namjoon catches hold of his wrist before he can put much distance between them. Yoongi forces a laugh, trying to hide the panic.

"Joon-ah, what are you talking about? If you didn't want to kiss me, you could have just said so," he jokes, but Namjoon purses his lips.

"Don't deflect, hyung," he says, quiet and grave. When Yoongi glances up, Namjoon looks anguished, a hair's breadth away from tears. "You've been off all night and just now… You looked like I was going to punch you."

So he's failed at romance yet again. Yoongi sucks his cheeks in, looking away and willing the tears not to come.

"I'm sorry," he manages. His fists are clenched so tight, he can feel his nails digging crescents into his palm. He rips his hand out of Namjoon's hold and pretends he doesn't see the way Namjoon's face falls. "I was just trying to make you happy."

"You know I'm happy doing whatever we usually do together. Why are we doing things that make you uncomfortable? The confusion bleeding into Namjoon's voice makes him sound like he's pleading. Somehow that tugs all the words Yoongi didn't mean to say right out his mouth.

"Don't you want something more?" he says, and it comes out abrupt, all in a rush. "Don't you want -- I don't know, all the things you wrote about in Spring Day, Outro: Her, Trivia: Love?" He runs his hand through his hair, frustrated and upset and still unable to look Namjoon in the eye as all his ugly truths spill out of him. "If you want all these things, then tonight was me trying to give it to you. I'm sorry I'm so shit at it. I didn't mean to ruin this."

The ensuing silence is suffocating. Yoongi is just about to apologise again and offer to go to Seokjin and Hoseok's for the night, but Namjoon speaks first.

"I like this." Namjoon says. Slowly. Decisively. "I don't want something more than this. What we have is so much more than good enough. I don't need you to be uncomfortable for me to be happy. I want this for as long as you're willing to give it, and if I'm right, hyung, I think that's going to be long, long time."

Yoongi looks up, disbelieving.

Namjoon's eyes are glittering and there's tears tracking down his cheeks, but when their eyes meet, he tries to smile anyway, a single dimple making an appearance. That's the breaking point. Yoongi rushes forward, hands reaching up, fingers weaving through Namjoon's hair to pull him into a kiss.

He tastes like salt, and home.

Much later when they lie next to each other in Namjoon's bed, curled into each other, Yoongi presses his face into Namjoon's shoulder and asks, "Joon… You're sure, aren't you?"

And instead of answering, Namjoon says, "Hyung, want to know a secret?"

"I wrote all those songs about you."

They get the dog and cat they talked about 2 years ago.

Yoongi really wants a mini-poodle -- "Joon-ah, I can't fucking deal, their legs look like fried chicken," -- so they end up contacting a breeder to get Holly, but as a compromise they adopt a little white and gray tabby kitten from KARA, who Namjoon names Sugar because he has a terrible sense of humor.

They introduce them, watching cautiously from the sidelines, but their worry is unwarranted. Sugar scent marks Holly within 5 minutes of meeting him and Holly returns the gesture with a thorough tongue bath.

Namjoon grins at Yoongi as it happens, cheeks dimpling, "Everyone says they won't get along, but they're just like us, aren't they?"

What can Yoongi do but smile back?

They throw a small welcome party for their 2 newest housemates which is well attended by all their friends. Everyone dutifully praises and coos at Holly and Sugar, but Yoongi doesn't miss Seokjin and Hoseok's knowing smiles, Jimin's silent 'awws' anytime he and Namjoon make skin contact, Taehyung and Jungkook scrutinizing stares.

They all end up gathered in their living room after dinner, scattered around in a loose circle, accompanied with their choice of whiskey or wine. Yoongi sequesters himself away in a corner of the couch with a tipsy Namjoon on the floor between his legs, ruddy face pillowed on his thigh. Their friends are chatting, but Namjoon's clearly not present, amusing himself drawing random patterns above Yoongi's knee, first a flower then a butterfly. Yoongi pets his hair, hopelessly endeared.

Seokjin notices and clears his throat, getting everyone's attention, "Any good news to share, guys?" he asks pointedly, smirking.

"Oh, yes actually," Yoongi plays along, lifting his hand out of Namjoon's hair to scratch his nose. Namjoon smiles up at him. "Everyone," Yoongi announces in his best news anchor voice, "Namjoon and I are officially just friends."

Seokjin's eyes widen, caught off guard, and Hoseok splutters into his glass. Jimin and Taehyung frown, one in confusion and the other in consideration. Jungkook just looks smug.

"Yup," Yoongi continues in the face of their mixed reactions, not quite able to keep the smile out of his voice as Namjoon snickers into his knee, "just friends and planning to be just friends for a very long time."

"Um," Jimin ventures, non-plussed, "are you guys happy with this?"

"We're very happy," Namjoon rumbles, words muffled from the way his cheek is squished against Yoongi's thigh.

"Well then," Hoseok says, recovering admirably from his choking fit, "I think I speak for everyone when I say, we're very happy for you."

"Thank you," Namjoon says with a dozy smile. Yoongi grins at him and then at the rest of his friends.

"Yes. Thank you guys."