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donut know what I'd do without you

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The Krispy Kreme Doughnut Cafe is close to Jeongguk's place, nestled in between a 24-hour convenience store and an old fashioned laundromat. It's a tiny space, standard in its layout and almost forgettable.

Seokjin is always raving about how good their doughnuts are and he gets so dramatic when Jeongguk says he's never tried it. So when Jeongguk finds himself bored at the laundromat one day, waiting for his white t-shirts to finish their cycle, his curiosity peaks.

That's where it starts off: one coffee and a doughnut.

And maybe the second time Jeongguk does laundry, he grabs another coffee and a doughnut. And then maybe another the third time around. And then another and another until he's going there on his own, with or without his laundry.

"You're addicted," Seokjin says when Jeongguk brings the box home the second time that week. Seokjin's one to talk considering he's already reaching for it, making grabby hands in Jeongguk's general direction.

"I'm not addicted." Jeongguk mutters indignantly. "We've eaten the same amount."

"Okay, fine, we're addicted." Seokjin opens the box and takes a big whiff. "Oh my god. Heaven on earth."

Jeongguk rolls his eyes, but doesn't disagree.

Their doughnuts are really fucking good.

So maybe Jeongguk is addicted and maybe he's on a first name basis with the Krispy Kreme staff.

Jeongguk is most familiar with Namjoon, who serves him with a friendly, dimpled smile and always recommends a ton of novels that Jeongguk will most likely never read; but the thought is sentimental and nice. Other times, he's served by Hoseok, who's sunny and bright and tries to make Jeongguk laugh when he can.

But when Jeongguk walks into the shop for a coffee run one morning, he comes face-to-face with someone he doesn't recognize.

The person behind the counter is wearing the standard uniform—a white t-shirt with Krispy Kreme written across the chest in a bright red cursive and a beige baseball cap. He's wearing the cap backwards and Jeongguk can see wisps of blonde hair sticking out in an unruly manner. The guy is shorter than him, smaller in stature and frame, leaning against the counter, tapping his pen against a black leather notebook.

It takes him a while to acknowledge Jeongguk and when he does, he looks bored and uninterested. It makes him seem intimidating despite his size, something Jeongguk isn't used to, not when he's usually served by friendly and comforting faces.

"Hey," Blondie greets. Much to Jeongguk's surprise, his voice is low and rough, but its monotonous in its inflection, like the world could end right at this moment and he wouldn't even notice. "How's it going?"

"Uh," Jeongguk says, lamely. "Hi. Good."

"What can I get you?"

Jeongguk knows his order, usually gets the same thing every trip and it really shouldn't be a big deal, because a store is allowed to have more than two workers. But the lack of familiarity with the guy behind the counter makes Jeongguk blank out.

Blondie raises an eyebrow at him, but he doesn't push.

"Uh, sorry, I'll just have a small iced coffee and a box of glazed donuts," Jeongguk says in a small voice.

"Sure," Blondie replies and rings up his order.

When Jeongguk pays and Blondie closes the box of doughnuts, Jeongguk stutters out, "Can I get a bag?"

"Sure, that'll be $10 extra."

For a second, Jeongguk thinks he's heard it wrong. But Blondie says it so seriously, face completely expressionless that Jeongguk stops rummaging through his wallet to gape at him. He's about to protest (since when do plastic bags cost that much? Namjoon always gives—), but Blondie cuts him off.

"I'm kidding." Blondie says, face still serious and unwavering. "Here you go. Take care."

It takes Jeongguk an embarrassingly long time to grab the bag, but when he does, he darts out of the shop, feeling flustered and embarrassed, the tips of his ears hot and burning.

It takes a couple of days for Jeongguk to visit the shop again.

It's really not a big deal. Jeongguk has had worse social encounters before, including the time he accidentally called the pizza delivery guy "mom." But for reasons unknown to him, Jeongguk keeps fixating on it, replaying it over and over again in his head. He thinks about how it would've panned out if he had been quick on his feet, if he had made the joke first. Would Blondie be impressed? Amused? Nonchalant?

But no matter where the scenario takes him, the one thing Jeongguk keeps coming back to is how mortifying it was; so mortifying that he almost doesn't want to go back, scared that he'll embarrass himself again, fall victim to Blondie's scrutinizing gaze and his unrelenting monotonous tone.

But Seokjin is right: Jeongguk is addicted.

When Jeongguk enters the shop, his palms are sweaty as he catches the same hunched figure behind the counter, this time on his phone.

"Hey, how's it going?" Blondie says in the same uninterested tone. The baseball cap is gone and there's blonde hair falling into his eyes.

"Good," Jeongguk replies instinctively, even though he feels anything but. He feels nervous, the kind that starts from the pit of his stomach and crawls its way to his throat. He tries not to think about it.

Jeongguk orders his usual, something small and easy for him to carry, because apparently, asking for a plastic bag gets him too flustered. Keep it simple, Jeon, keep it simple.

Blondie rings up his order and announces his total in a flat tone. Jeongguk hands him a bill and Blondie opens the register.

"Um, actually, I think I have some change," Jeongguk says and sifts through his pocket for the remaining twenty-nine cents.

When Jeongguk hands the change over, Blondie accepts it but freezes. Naturally, Jeongguk stills too, wonders if he said something stupid without even knowing. He's about to ask what's wrong, but Blondie speaks first.

"Oh my god, what am I going to do with this?" Blondie says in a loud voice that startles him. "Why would you give me this after I already punched it in? Don't you know odd change confuses cashiers!"

Jeongguk is completely taken aback, his outstretched hand nearly knocking over the tips jar. Immediately, Jeongguk thinks about stuttering out an apology even though he has no idea what he's apologizing for. He was trying to make Blondie's life easier, wasn't he? All he wants is five dollars change back, why is that so—

Suddenly, Blondie dumps the change and scoops up a five dollar bill from the register. He hands the bill over to Jeongguk, his face a blank canvas as if nothing even happened.

"I'm kidding. I can do basic math, kid. There you go. Have a nice day."

Without hesitating, Jeongguk grabs the bill in haste and bolts right out of the shop.

He swears the last thing he sees is Blondie looking smug and amused.

On a whim, Jeongguk decides that he doesn't need to go to Krispy Kreme anymore. It's definitely because he's trying to watch his health and not because Blondie makes him feel so flustered that he wants to melt into the floor.

So for the next couple of days, Jeongguk settles for shitty instant coffee and horrible vegan pastries at the bakery across the street.

But one way or another, Jeongguk comes crawling back. This time he blames Seokjin, who practically twists his arm so he can get him donuts.

When Jeongguk follows the familiar route to the shop, he realizes that, despite feeling absolutely mortified with every interaction, Jeongguk almost wants to see if Blondie is there. The coffee and donuts are good, sure, but a part of him wants to find out what Blondie plans on saying next despite Jeongguk always being the butt of the joke.

He starts to wonder if he has masochistic tendencies.

When Jeongguk walks in, Blondie is nowhere in sight. Instead, he's greeted by Namjoon. Jeongguk deflates a little with relief and swallows down the faint disappointment bristling in his chest.

"Hey, Jeongguk," Namjoon smiles. "Haven't seen you in a while."

Jeongguk smiles back, "Yeah. How are you?"

"Good, good. I'm actually almost done my shift. I'm just waiting for my coworker to cover for me," Namjoon tells him. As if on cue (and because apparently nobody else works here), Blondie comes out from the back, putting on the ugly beige baseball cap looking like he wants death.

"Hey, have you met—" Namjoon starts to say, but when Blondie catches sight of Jeongguk, he cuts Namjoon off.

"Suga," Blondie says in an uninterested drawl.

Namjoon raises an eyebrow at Blondie, but doesn't say anything. Jeongguk feels very confused.

"Suga," Jeongguk repeats. "Like... Sugar but without the R?"

It sounds like a joke; Jeongguk is sure it's a joke, but Blo—Suga just nods, his expression still the same. He turns to Namjoon and mutters, "Get out of here. You're done."

Namjoon looks at Jeongguk and then back at Suga. Something dawns on him then and suddenly, he looks very amused. Jeongguk feels like he's watching an inside joke being shared, one that he's definitely not apart of. The nervousness comes back as Namjoon waves goodbye and Jeongguk is left with... Suga.

"Hey kid, how's it going?"

"Good," Jeongguk says, his voice suddenly raspy. He clears his throat, "How are you?"

"I'm good, what—"

"Can I get a small coffee?"

"—can I get you?"

There's a very short and awkward pause where Jeongguk has to use all his energy to stop himself from closing his eyes and letting out a big, exasperated sigh. He blames his parents (and maybe Seokjin) for being this socially stunted.

But the corners of Suga's lips are quirked upward, the first real emotion Jeongguk has seen from him since he started working here. "Sure. Give me a second.”

When Suga hands him his coffee, Jeongguk almost drops the cup and maybe it has nothing to do with how hot the cup is and everything to do with the brush of their fingers. He really needs to get himself together. Suga looks unaffected.

While Jeongguk fishes through his wallet for change, he can see Suga in his peripheral, giving him a once-over like he's about to devour him. The AC whirs in the background, but Jeongguk's face feels hot.

"So your name is Jeongguk?"

"Yeah," Jeongguk says, mouth dry. "And your name is... Suga?"

"You sound like you don't believe me," Suga says, but he doesn't sound offended, just slightly bored. "What? It doesn't fit me?"

It's the first time Jeongguk gets a good look at him. Suga is fair, pale skin glowing under the ugly fluorescent light, almost translucent. There's a sharpness around his eyes that Jeongguk hadn't noticed before, but the curve of his cheeks, the outline of his jaw are soft, muted. It does fit him in a way, Jeongguk thinks idly.

Suga tilts his head slightly and the sudden movement startles him. Jeongguk's gaze darts from pink lips to dark brown eyes and it makes him realize belatedly that he's staring.

Jeongguk clears his throat, feels the flush creeping up his neck, "Um. Here." He hands over the change and Suga silently accepts it.

"I gave you exact change this time so you don't have to freak out," Jeongguk explains. It's supposed to be a joke, some lame attempt at witty banter, but it comes out way too clipped and serious. It makes Jeongguk think twice about opening his mouth.

Suga's composed himself back to his impassive state of being at this point, but there's something colouring his tone when he says, "That's very considerate of you, Jeongguk."

When he closes the register, he gives Jeongguk another once-over. It looks like he wants to say something but he just nods. "Have a good day, kid."

"Thanks, you too."

It takes about half the day for the nervousness to ebb away, but for the first time, Jeongguk leaves the shop without feeling mortified.

There's something about their last encounter that makes Jeongguk's skin prickle. He can't exactly pinpoint what it is, but strangely, he starts dropping by the shop more and more often. He does it so frequently that Seokjin starts throwing him concerned glances every time he puts on his shoes to leave.

Suga isn't always there, but when he is, Jeongguk finds he doesn't feel as nervous. The sharpness of his face and the dark slope of his eyebrows still intimidate Jeongguk, but they've become something familiar, calming almost, making it easier for him to order something without wanting the floor to open up and swallow him.

Jeongguk realizes that they're both not one for small talk, which he feels grateful for, especially on days where he's running on nothing but a thirty minute power nap and some disgusting protein drink Jimin shared with him during dance practice.

Maybe it's wishful thinking, but it's almost as if Suga knows, knows by the way Jeongguk's shoulders are hunched and the way he fidgets that he's having a bad day. Suga never says anything, but he always leaves room for milk in Jeongguk's coffee, throws in an extra doughnut or two, sometimes adds a flavoured espresso shot when Jeongguk looks like hell. It's the tiniest gesture, but it feels amplified, special even, Jeongguk dares to think. But he tucks that thought away, stubs it before it can blossom into anything further.

Jeongguk is in a good mood today when he walks in. Suga doesn't even bother to look up when he says, "You're going to burn a hole in your wallet if you keep this up."

He's sitting on a stool behind the counter, wearing a dirty green apron, scrolling idly through his phone. There's a rosy glow on the apple of his cheeks, something Jeongguk definitely doesn't notice first.

On the counter is a silver tray with small bite-sized pastries, meticulously and colourfully decorated.

"Did you make these?" Jeongguk asks. Suga grunts in acknowledgement.

"Are they free?"

Suga looks up at him through dark lashes and says, monotonous as usual, "No. You have to pay with a smile."

Unexpectedly, Jeongguk lets out a laugh. He's had his fair share of awkward laughter and forced smiles, but this, this feels natural.

Jeongguk likes to think he's become particularly perceptive of Suga's emotions. It's not hard; Suga has the same bored, uninterested look on his face all the time that it makes it easy for Jeongguk to pick up little micro expressions, ones that hint at a real, tangible emotion. Jeongguk thinks he imagines it for the most part; imagines a ghost of a smile, the glint of amusement in his eyes. But there's no denying that something changes in Suga's face then when Jeongguk laughs, something involuntary and out of his control. It takes them both by surprise.

Jeongguk suddenly feels bold and grins again, "Can I take one now?"

"Go ahead, kid," Suga says, but his voice wavers the slightest. "Anything else you want?"

Jeongguk decides spontaneously on a coffee even though he's had enough energy drinks to keep him up for the next two days. But there's something about this moment, the electricity of it all, that makes him want to prolong it. So he watches silently as Suga rings up his order.

Jeongguk comes in so often that Suga knows his order by heart, always makes his coffee without a hitch. But this time, Suga fumbles, knocks over a couple of coffee lids when he caps Jeongguk's cup.

Suga slides his coffee towards him and grunts out the total. Jeongguk feels giddy as he hands over the change.

"Thanks," Jeongguk says, feeling brave. He smiles, "Have a good day."

"Yeah, you too, kid," Suga says, carefully composed now and back to his neutral expression. But Jeongguk has already seen it falter.

When Jeongguk leaves the shop, he makes sure he looks extra smug and amused.

Jeongguk comes to a sort of epiphany when he watches Hoseok ring up his order.

"Hey, you know the blonde guy who works with you? Suga isn't his actual name, is it?"

"What?" Hoseok says distractedly when he pokes his head from under the counter. "Suga?"

"Yeah. He told me his name was Suga and that's what I've been calling him this whole time."

Hoseok stares at Jeongguk for a moment before he barks out a laugh. He shakes his head, "Nah, his name is Yoongi."

"Yoongi," Jeongguk repeats, like he's testing the way it sounds. Yoongi. It rings clear in Jeongguk's head, reverberates somewhere in his chest. His skin prickles again, a tingling sensation that makes him bite back a smile.

Jeongguk is in mid-thought, wonders why he didn't think of this earlier when Hoseok continues, "Last time, he told a customer his name was Salt. Or maybe he said Pepper, I don't remember. He likes to do that a lot though. He gets bored when he's working."

Jeongguk huffs out an awkward laugh at Hoseok's anecdote, but the words are already seeping into his system.

Yoongi does this with everybody. With all his customers.

When Jeongguk says it that way, he feels overdramatic, stupid even. It should've been obvious. Of course Yoongi does this with everybody. It isn't in his job description and he isn't the friendliest person in the world, but it's his own endearing way of connecting with people. He must have a ton of interactions like this.

It makes him realize his interaction with Yoongi isn't any different. If anything, it's boring. There are people out there who don't stutter out incoherent sentences more than half of the time like he does. There are people out there who know how to handle a joke without gaping at someone like a fish out of water.

His interaction with Yoongi isn't any different.

Hoseok hands him his doughnuts and waves Jeongguk off with a big grin, but he feels like he's on autopilot as he thanks Hoseok and leaves the shop.

Jeongguk has no idea where this is coming from, but he can't seem to shake off this feeling. He's so distracted that he doesn't hear Seokjin calling out his name when they're sitting down for dinner.

"Hey," Seokjin says softly, tapping Jeongguk on the wrist. "Are you okay?"

Jeongguk snaps out of it long enough to nod quickly. "Yeah. I'm fine."

Seokjin looks unconvinced, but he doesn't probe.

Later that night when Jeongguk tries to fall asleep, he remembers that thought tucked away somewhere in the back of his mind—special—and remembers stubbing it out before it could grow out of control.

Jeongguk realizes that maybe he never had control over it in the first place.

It's been two weeks since Jeongguk last visited the shop. (Not like he's been keeping tabs).

He isn't purposely avoiding it or anything. He's just been busy with classes and with dance practice, with fifteen page papers and all of his midterms. And maybe his taste buds have finally gotten used to the watered down, bitter instant coffee he makes at home that he doesn't need to make trips to the shop anymore.

This is supposed to be a good thing anyway. Krispy Kreme is ridiculously unhealthy and Jimin always jokes about all the doughnuts he eats turning themselves into love handles (Jeongguk doesn't have love handles, thank you very much). So it's fine, really. Jeongguk doesn't need to go back.

Except Seokjin is oblivious to this thought (an unfortunate drawback of keeping secrets from him) and practically drags Jeongguk by the hem of his shirt, crying about his low blood sugar and declining energy.

When they walk into the shop, Yoongi isn't behind the counter, but Hoseok is there, busy rearranging the doughnuts on display.

"Jeongguk!" Hoseok grins in greeting.

"Hey," Jeongguk says, smiling back, "Hoseok, this is Seokjin, my roommate."

Seokjin beams at Hoseok and they start up a small conversation about something that Jeongguk doesn't pay attention to. Jeongguk doesn't plan on ordering anything (he actually plans on making himself as small as possible) so he lets Seokjin take the reign.

Jeongguk is scrolling idly through old text message threads as a distraction when he hears a familiar, rough timbre call out his name. It almost makes Jeongguk's knees buckle in surprise.

"Jeongguk." Yoongi's voice sounds mostly disinterested, but Jeongguk thinks maybe there's a softness around the syllables when he says it. That thought alone—imagined or not—makes his brain short circuit. "Long time no see."

Yoongi looks the same, pale skin illuminated and soft, but his hair looks more golden, a syrupy butterscotch kind of blonde. Yoongi's uniform is stretched out across his shoulders and there's a smudge of flour against his cheek. Jeongguk is tempted to brush it away.

"How's it going?" Yoongi asks, looking intently at him.

"Good, fine. Busy," Jeongguk stumbles out in clipped tones and avoids any eye contact.

"Did you stop coming because you read our calorie chart?" Yoongi says, leaning on the counter, resting his chin against his hand. Even that movement makes Jeongguk feel nervous. "Or did you run out of money?"

Jeongguk lets out an awkward laugh. He doesn't mean to make things uncomfortable, but it comes out strained and Jeongguk isn't the only one that catches it.

If Yoongi notices, he doesn't say anything. He simply asks, "Did you want anything?"

"No, I'm just here with my roommate," Jeongguk says and then panics before he can stop himself. "Um, I'm just going to wait outside."

Yoongi raises an eyebrow at him, but he nods, lips pressed into a thin line.

It takes all of Jeongguk's self-control not to run right home and bury himself under his sheets.

Seokjin knocks lightly on Jeongguk's door a few days later while he's studying for his midterm. "Hey."

"Hey." Jeongguk doesn't look up from his microeconomics textbook even though he's been highlighting the same passage for the last twenty minutes.

"Someone dropped by earlier. They left something for you."

"If it's a sweater, you can just toss it in my laundry bin," Jeongguk says dismissively, thinks idly of Jimin borrowing his blue sweatshirt.

Seokjin disappears momentarily and when he comes back, it's not a sweater he's holding, but a box Jeongguk knows too well and a cup of coffee. Seokjin leaves it on his desk, gives him a reassuring smile before stepping out.

It's been a couple of weeks since his last visit to Krispy Kreme (since his last encounter with Yoongi, his mind adds unhelpfully). It's not like he has withdrawal symptoms or anything; it's not like he misses the smoothness of their coffee or the way the pastries melt in his mouth. And Jeongguk definitely doesn't miss anybody at the shop in particular; he doesn't think about the veins in Yoongi's arms or his collarbones jutting out under his t-shirt.

It's not like that at all.

So Jeongguk wonders for a long time who could've dropped this off. Hoseok, maybe, because he's so good natured. But after a while, Jeongguk goes back to his textbook and tries to focus, thinks about the ceteris paribus assumption and the theory of demand. But all the words jumble together, rearranging themselves into distorted shapes and colours while the box haunts him in his peripheral.

Jeongguk is about to call for Seokjin, tell him he can have the doughnuts, something Seokjin would gladly accept, but he catches a glimpse of a sticky note attached to the side of the box, a messy scrawl scratched on the surface.

Hey kid piques his interest and he almost knocks the coffee over as he scrambles to read the rest of the message.

Have you been cheating on us with that bakery next door? (Don't tell Hoseok, he'll be heartbroken). You didn't hear this from me, but those vegan pastries talk shit about you. These doughnuts are your real friends. They miss you. Come back when you can. You're literally our only customer.

P.S. Donut worry, two vanilla espresso shots just in case you're dying.

P.S.S. Krispy Kreme does delivery now. Next time you come in, you owe me $5. Delivery fee and all that.

Suga x

Jeongguk reads the note about five times after that and each time, there's an explosion that goes off in his stomach, obliterating everything in its wake. Something wells up in his chest at the thought of Yoongi dropping off the box at his doorstep. Jeongguk imagines him looking embarrassed, flustered even and he starts wondering, wants to know what that looks like.

Jeongguk decides then that maybe one doughnut wouldn't hurt, that maybe it's okay to go back.

When he bites into the pastry, he lets out a victory cry that startles Seokjin so much, Jeongguk hears him yelp from the living room.

Jeongguk goes to Krispy Kreme the next day.

He thinks he should play it cool, wait a few days before he goes in so he doesn't seem too eager. But he has so much contained anticipation thrumming in his body, he doesn't think he can wait.

Yoongi is behind the counter, writing something down in a black leather notebook. When Jeongguk walks in, Yoongi doesn't move languidly like he often does; instead, his head darts up to see who it is.

"Hey," Yoongi says. Jeongguk knows he isn't imagining things anymore, because Yoongi's voice is soft and gentle when he asks, "How's it going?"

Good. Fine. I came back because I heard I'm your only customer. I can't let this business run to the ground. It wouldn't be fair to Hoseok and Namjoon is what Jeongguk plans on saying. But Yoongi is standing in front of him, looking expectant, shy almost and Jeongguk's brain malfunctions so bad, his brain-to-mouth filter turns to liquid.

"Your name is Yoongi, not Suga," Jeongguk blurts out, "You've been messing with me this whole time and your doughnut pun was literally the worst thing I've ever read and your deadpan humour freaks me out but... I like it." I like you is what he doesn't say and he's never been so grateful in his life for knowing when to stop; his whole body already feels like it's on fire from the embarrassment.

Yoongi stares at him for such a long moment that it makes Jeongguk feel like maybe he overstepped a boundary between them; like maybe Jeongguk read this all wrong and Yoongi was just being friendly; like maybe he never really wanted Jeongguk to know his name, just wanted to keep a lighthearted customer/worker relationship rather than being—

Jeongguk stops mid-thought, because suddenly, Yoongi is laughing; an almost silent, tinkling sound that makes something twist in Jeongguk's chest. There's a full blown grin on Yoongi's face that curves his eyes into little crescents. It should be considered strange that after all this time, Jeongguk has never seen Yoongi smile. But now, when Yoongi is beaming at him, face alight with emotion, all pretenses of boredom and disinterest gone, Jeongguk thinks the timing is just right.

"I do like messing with you," Yoongi says, his smile softer, relaxed. "You're funny, Jeongguk."

A momentary braveness sweeps over him, makes him blurt out, "You have a really nice smile, you know that? Why don't you do that more often?"

Jeongguk flushes and Yoongi looks surprised. His face turns a little pink, something Jeongguk isn't used to seeing, but suddenly wants to see all the time. Yoongi composes himself long enough to say, "Are you flirting with me?"

"Maybe."

"Flirting isn't free here and you already owe me five bucks," Yoongi says, attempting the same uninterested tone, but he struggles. Something about that makes Jeongguk smile.

"How much does it cost to take you out?" Jeongguk presses.

Yoongi barks out another laugh, short and sweet, "I'm not that easy, you know." He pauses, biting back a smile. "I finish work in two hours. Are you free later?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Good," Yoongi looks pleased., "Come back later and I'll try to smuggle you some doughnuts."

"Okay," Jeongguk grins. "It's a date."

Before Jeongguk walks out, he doesn't miss Namjoon's voice filtering from the back, yelling, "You guys are fucking disgusting, I hope you know that!"

"Okay, you really need to stop eating here," Yoongi says when Jeongguk picks him up after work one day. He grimaces when Jeongguk bites into a glazed doughnut. "I'm going to have to cut you off. How have you not gained any weight?"

"High metabolism?" Jeongguk offers with his mouth full as they walk side by side. He swallows and says. "I didn't just come for the coffee and doughnuts, you know."

Yoongi grimaces again, but there's a fondness that Jeongguk doesn't fail to catch. "I knew it. I can't believe Namjoon has you smitten."

Jeongguk laughs and his face softens, "Yeah, he definitely does."

Yoongi looks at him for a long moment, his face a blank canvas, "If you're going to kiss me, that's going to be—

"$10 extra, yeah, I know," Jeongguk grins and leans in.