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Brief Encounters

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It started with Yoongi spilling his coffee down the front of his pants and then missing his train while he desperately tried to blot out the stains in the bathroom. He stood on the platform with a dead phone in his back pocket, coffee stains on his crotch, and the beginnings of a headache behind his eyes staring at the receding train and desperately hating the world.

Min Yoongi was not having a good day - so much so that when it started raining - a light beginning of autumn drizzle, but rain nonetheless, all he could do was stare up at the sky and sigh.

“Fuckin’ really?” he shouted, his native language slipping in his anger. “Shit like this only happens in movies!”

“So does that make me your knight in shining armor?”

Yoongi whirled around , fist cocking back and launching without thought. He caught deep brown eyes before they clenched shut, and pain shot up Yoongi’s arm from his knuckles as his fist connected with the guy’s sternum.

Min Yoongi was definitely not having a good day. 

“Oh Jesus fuck,” Yoongi groaned, cradling his quickly bruising hand.

“I think,” the guy wheezed, clutching his chest, “that’s my line.”

Yoongi glanced up, surprised to see the man smiling - a big smile that was all teeth. Yoongi took in the almond shaped eyes, flushed cheeks, and athletic clothing which was steadily getting damp from the rain despite the open umbrella on the ground. 

“You know,” the guy continued with a light cough, “since you rabbit punched me in the chest.”

Yoongi scowled and crossed his arms. “That’s what you get for sneaking up on people.”

The man laughed, something loud and out of place for someone standing in the rain after being punched. 

“True,” he said lightly, grabbing his umbrella and shaking it out before righting it over his head. “‘Would you like to share my umbrella’ is what I should have said.”

Yoongi looked the man up and down. He looked nice enough with his constant heart-shaped smile, but Yoongi’s hand throbbed and he was wet  and the next train to Hoboken didn’t come for another two hours. 

“I’d rather not get kidnapped and murdered, thanks.”

The man chuckled and walked forward until Yoongi was under his umbrella anyway. “Please don’t punch me again,” he said as soon as Yoongi tensed up. “How about you join me for a sandwich and some tea? You look like you’ve had a shit day and my train doesn’t come for another hour and a half so -“

Yoongi opened his mouth fully prepared to say no, but it was nearing five p.m. and he couldn’t lie, a cup of tea did sound nice. He sighed and ran his non-bruised hand through his bleached hair. 

“Sure,” he said. He gestured down towards his lap and gave a strained smile. “I ended up wearing my last drink.”

“I noticed,” the man said, lightly taking Yoongi’s elbow and steering him towards the small station house. “I’m Jung Hoseok by the way.”

Yoongi glanced up quickly. He hadn’t heard someone introduce themselves that way since his wife dragged him to the Korean Christian Church in Seattle, and it made him homesick in a way he hadn’t been since he moved a year ago. 

“You’re Korean?”

Jung Hoseok laughed, the sound echoing off of the tiles and shiny brick of the building as they opened the door. He closed his umbrella and hooked it onto his backpack before bee-lining to the coffee stand in the corner of the near empty station.

“You didn’t pick that up when I answered you in Korean?”

Yoongi’s cheeks flushed and he shrugged. “I was too busy punching you.”

Hoseok laughed again, and Yoongi couldn’t help his responding grin. They picked their teas - a holiday cinnamon one for Hoseok and lemon ginger for Yoongi. Yoongi picked a seat at a lone table while Hoseok paid (‘please, it’s like, two bucks. Let me do this for you,’) and settled down with his paper cup warming his hands. He didn’t want to admit it - because there was something inherently satisfying about throwing a tantrum after a bad day - but the warmth seeped into his bones and the lemon soothed his sour mood.

“I’m Min Yoongi,” Yoongi blurted as Hoseok sat down. He had realized as he burned the roof of his mouth on his scalding hot tea that he had never offered up his name, and he’d made enough of a fool of himself as it was than to sit with a nice guy and not introduce himself.

Hoseok’s eyes widened slightly and he paused, paper cup nearly to his lips. “Min Yoongi? Like ‘The Rise of Post-Modern Rap’ Min Yoongi? Like underground Seattle rapper Min Yoongi?”

Yoongi blinked slowly, wariness settling in the pit of his gut and colouring his expression. He was past the point in his career of being recognized; even his current students only had a vague idea of who he was.

“You do realize that this makes you sound creepy again, right?”

Hoseok held his hands out in front of him and shook his head emphatically. “No, no, no, it’s not like that.”

Yoongi smirked, took a more careful sip of his tea. “What’s it like then?”

“I’m a dancer,” Hoseok said with a sheepish smile.”Hip-hop mostly. Ballet, jazz, tap, the works. I auditioned for college with your mixtape.”

Yoongi raised his eyebrows. “Wait, you’re serious?”

Hoseok nodded, and Yoongi had a fleeting thought that Hoseok was cute. 

“Yeah. Had to torrent that shit and put it on a cd and everything. Walked into the audition hall and put my boombox on top of the piano.” Hoseok gave a wry chuckle and Yoongi felt his cheeks flush. “In hindsight it probably wasn’t the best choice, but I was young and you were edgy -“

“Hey, hey, thanks for making me sound like an old man,” Yoongi snapped without any bite to his words, and Hoseok laughed, loud and lilting.

“I don’t mean - like, I’m pretty sure we’re the same age.” Yoongi quirked a brow but didn’t offer, and Hoseok’s grin changed to something sly and mischievous . “How old are you, old man?”

Yoongi bit the inside of his lip. “You’re a cocky little shit, aren’t you?” Hoseok wiggled his eyebrows and Yoongi sighed. “Thirty-six.”

“Thirty-five.” Hoseok leaned forward, his arms brushing Yoongi’s. He had a feeling that Hoseok didn’t think much about personal bubbles. “So you teach now?”

Yoongi shook his head. “Visiting professor. I only do Tuesday Thursdays. I was convinced it’d be a good idea.”

“Princeton is a good school.”

“Yeah.” Yoongi huffed his bangs out of his eyes and glanced at the grey wet outside. “Commute’s a bitch though.”


Yoongi smirked. “Hoboken.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened almost comically. “You commute two hours?

“Only on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

“Still.” Hoseok leaned back in his chair and Yoongi’s eyes quickly glanced down to take in the long torso and equally long legs. “I just go to New Brunswick. It’s like, forty-five minutes and that’s too long.”

Yoongi shrugged. “I don’t mind it. It’s usually not too crowded. I get two hours of sort of silence to do work or write music or something.”

They sat in silence for a moment, each sipping their tea and munching on the tomato and cheese sandwich Hoseok had insisted they share. It was comfortable - surprisingly so especially since Yoongi was anti-social on the best of days. Maybe it was his constant smile or little giggles, or, shit, tan-as-fuck skin but Hoseok was easy to like, easy for Yoongi to talk to.

“So,” Yoongi said as he finished off the last bite of his sandwich. “You teach then?”

Hoseok wiped his mouth and flashed that big grin that Yoongi had already gotten attached to. “How’d you guess?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Why else would you be traveling to and from Princeton?”

Hoseok leaned conspiratorially over the table. “Maybe I have a niece that I’m visiting.”

Yoongi rested his chin on his palm and matched Hoseok’s mischievous grin with a bored expression. “Do you?”


“You’re insufferable.”

Hoseok cackled, the sound echoing around the station. He still leaned forward like he had a secret to tell - or like they were two teenagers on a date.

“Thanks,” Hoseok said with a wink, “my wife tells me that all the time.”

Yoongi blinked a few times. He didn’t know why the admission caught him off guard, but it did. Not that it mattered; Yoongi was married - they were two middle-aged men so it wasn’t like it had to be surprising. But still - it made Yoongi feel almost…disappointed.

“You’re married?” he asked redundantly.

Hoseok nodded. “Six years. You?”

“Yeah. Eleven.”


“Two boys. Four and three.”

“Damn,” Hoseok said with a dramatic whistle. “Your wife must love that.”

Yoongi chuckled. “To be honest sometimes I’m surprised that they’re still alive and in more or less one piece when I get home. And that my wife is sane. That’s surprising too.”

Hoseok laughed, but there was something a bit forced about it - something a bit sad. He didn’t speak after he stopped, and the awkward self-conciousness that Yoongi had gotten used to not feeling while talking to Hoseok started to rear it’s ugly head.

“How about you?” He asked, too loudly and so fast that his words slurred together. “Do you have kids?”

Hoseok shook his head, that sad expression back on his face. “Nah. We’ve been trying for years but…” he trailed off and shrugged. “She was really sick when she was younger, so we think that’s it. Thought I was shooting blanks for the longest time but my sperm count is through the roof so -“

Yoongi blinked and Hoseok’s face turned red so quickly it was almost like someone had flipped a switch. 

“Oh my god I’m so sorry,” he babbled, half of his words coming out in Korean and half in English. “Oh my god I can’t believe I just dropped my sperm count on you. I just - fuck.”

Yoongi tried to not laugh, but it burst out of him all high-pitched and squeaky. Yoongi hated his laugh, had hated it ever since he was a teenager trying to look tough. It wasn’t tough to have tiny legs, even more so to have tiny teeth and a squeaky fucking laugh. He had tried smoking when he was in his early twenties to combat it, but all it did was add a bit to his rasp and probably set him on the road for lung cancer in the future. Whatever.

“It’s okay,” he said in between giggles. “I can think of worse things to talk about than your dick.”

Hoseok gasped and put his hand over his chest in mock-offense. “I never said anything about my dick.”

“I don’t know where you’re shooting blanks from if it’s not from your dick.”

“Not blanks,” Hoseok said, his words nearly drowned out by both of their laughter.

“Right, the strongest sperm in the world.”

They both dissolved into giggles, bent over the table and clutching their stomachs. Yoongi’s chest felt tight and his eyes were wet, but Hoseok looked like he was literally about to die with how red his face had gotten.

“I should have,” Hoseok began, then coughed and cleared his throat. “I should have known you wouldn’t be bothered, mister ‘let me rap about oral sex.’”

Yoongi felt his face heat to the point where he was mildly surprised it wasn’t melting off. “Oh my god please shut up.”

“Namjadeun yeojadeun raebeuro hongkongeul bonaeneun yuyeonhan nae hyeonollim -“

“Shut up!” Yoongi hissed, throwing his paper napkin at Hoseok’s face. Hoseok watched the paper flutter to the ground and smirked widely.

“What? It’s not like anyone can understand.”

“I just -“ Yoongi waved his arms wildly as if that could prove his point. 

“I like that song,” Hoseok said, his smirk lessening until it was a small smile. “I think it’s still pretty dope.”

Yoongi shook his head, letting his hair flop in front of his face to block out his involuntary smile.

“You still rap?” Hoseok asked after a moment, and Yoongi shook his head again.

“Too old.”

“Yeah, that’s bullshit.” Hoseok said it so forcefully that Yoongi immediately started laughing. “I’m serious! If Def Lepard can still tour you can still rap!”

Yoongi rubbed his hands over his face, smile still lingering. “Yeah? C’mon, who wants to see an almost forty asian dude rap?”

Hoseok shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Yoongi stared, his mouth hanging open in a way that should have been embarrassing. There was a flutter in his chest that he hadn’t felt since he held Taehyung for the first time and a pressure that almost made him worry he was having a heart attack. His wife had said the same thing to him countless times, but for some reason the way Hoseok said it made Yoongi blush. Made him feel guilty. Made him think that maybe - maybe he could write his own music again and not just stuff for other people.

“Thanks,” he said softly, and Hoseok nudged his closed fist resting on the table with long prodding fingers.

“No problem.”

They talked for another hour about their families (‘And then Jeongguk put the entire roll of toilet paper in the toilet while Taehyung sat on the counter and watched’), their jobs (‘kinesiology is cool, like I do enjoy it. I just wish I could teach dance in more places than a community center, you know?’), their students (‘I swear everyone here has a fuckin’ silver spoon’), the faculty (‘Namjoon is the only one I get along with really’), and Hoseok’s desire for kids (‘it’s okay, I’m basically uncle for Jimin and Joon’s daughters so that helps.’) It was the most Yoongi had talked since he had moved to New Jersey the year before - probably the most Yoongi had talked to anyone outside of his family for years. When Hoseok stood up, Yoongi was almost disappointed.

“My train’s about to pull up,” Hoseok said unnecessarily, and Yoongi nodded. “Thanks for chatting with me.”

“Thanks for the tea. And sandwich. And…everything,” Yoongi said, awkwardly standing and shoving his hands in his pockets.

Hoseok laughed and pulled out his phone. “How about we exchange numbers?”

“My phone is dead,” Yoongi said, only just realizing that he hadn’t thought to ask to use a phone to call home or text his wife. Hoseok smiled warmly and Yoongi felt that flutter in his chest again.

“So give me your number and I’ll text you.”

Yoongi wanted to say no, wanted to say it wasn’t a good idea, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know if Hoseok also felt something dangerous between them, something dark and tempting. Yoongi hadn’t had a crush in a long time so maybe this wasn’t one. Maybe Hoseok was just the first friend he had made since Namjoon seven years ago. So he held out his hand for Hoseok ’s phone and typed in his information.

“Tongue Technology?” Hoseok asked with a snort and Yoongi gave an exaggerated shrug.

“It was either that or ‘Min Yoongi Genius.’” 

“I honestly never thought you would have a sense of humour,” Hoseok said as he tucked his phone into his pocket and began to walk towards the door.

“I don’t,” Yoongi deadpanned, following behind even though his train wouldn’t come for another thirty minutes.


Yoongi watched the train pull up and tried to ignore the churning of his guts. Hoseok adjusted his backpack and gave Yoongi another one of those mega-watt smiles. 

“I’ll see you around, Yoongi.”

Yoongi’s tongue felt like it was glued to his mouth so he just nodded. Hoseok gave a half wave as he boarded the train, but then he was hidden by the tinted windows and the train pulled out and he was gone. Another light drizzle started up again but Yoongi stayed on the platform, let himself get steadily damp, and watched the bare tracks until the world went fuzzy at the edges.



“You never texted me back.”

Yoongi jumped with a small squeak, clutching his coffee cup to his chest as it sloshed dangerously up the sides of his cup. 

“What the fuck,” he snapped, but when he looked up into Jung Hoseok’s wide smile his anger melted away.

“Sorry,” Hoseok chuckled as he dropped his bag and took the seat opposite Yoongi. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” Yoongi grumbled. He burrowed deeper into his chunky knit scarf and took another sip of his coffee - black and too sweet (‘like your soul,’ his wife had joked when they started dating). Hoseok raised his eyebrow but didn’t comment. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest, staring until Yoongi sighed and put his cup down. “What?”

“You never texted me back. I sent you six messages or something.”

Yoongi shrugged. He didn’t want to admit that each time his phone vibrated and the name Jung Hoseok appeared on his screen that little flutter came back, and it freaked him out so much that he immediately deleted the messages. He pushed his square frame glasses up on his nose and took a too-big gulp of his coffee, burning the roof of his mouth with a grimace.

“Hey,” Hoseok said, and his voice was soft and placating. “If I like, freaked you out or offended you or something -“

“No,” Yoongi said, too fast because Hoseok’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. Yoongi sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. “I’m just…really bad about being a friend,” he grumbled.

Hoseok nodded. “Okay. So like, you’re kinda introverted? Kind of antisocial? I’ll send you fifty messages and you’ll respond to one type of deal?”

Yoongi smirked lightly. “Yeah. Something like that.”

“Okay.” Hoseok’s smile was too big, too bright, and Yoongi’s stomach flip-flopped so wildly he was afraid that he would actually puke on the guy’s shoes. “I can deal with that.”

Yoongi groaned and let his head fall against his open crossword puzzle book on the table, the pages uncomfortable against the clammy skin of his forehead.

“Unless you don’t want me to. Seriously dude, I’m a grown man, you can tell me if you want to be left alone.”

Yoongi’s hand shot out to grip Hoseok’s wrist before his brain caught up with what he was doing. “No,” he croaked, lifting his head slightly so he could look Hoseok in the face. “I want…I want -“

But what could he say? I want to be friends? I want you? I got hard thinking about you the other day and I haven’t had sex in ages and I shouldn’t be thinking this way at all what the hell is wrong with me?

“You want?” Hoseok prodded, and Yoongi released his hand.

“Yeah,” he said with an air of finality as he sat up. Hoseok watched him for a few minutes like he was waiting for Yoongi to say something else before he shrugged.


They sat in silence for a while, Yoongi going between fidgeting with his coffee cup and fidgeting with his pen. Hoseok watched him steadily and Yoongi fidgeted more and more until he felt like he could helicopter himself out of his chair.

“Are you alright?” Hoseok asked, and Yoongi resisted the urge to groan.

“Game predecessor of Riven,” Yoongi said instead, and Hoseok blinked.

“Say what?”

“Did you play games as a kid? I’m trying to figure out the game predecessor of Riven, but I don’t even know what Riven is.”

Hoseok leaned over the table and Yoongi adjusted his crossword puzzle for the other man to get a good look at it. He watched the way Hoseok chewed on his tongue, how he could see the corner of it poke the inside of the man’s cheek as he thought, and how it reminded Yoongi of other things that he really shouldn’t be thinking about with a married man in a public train station.

“Myst,” Hoseok said after a while, and Yoongi took a second to refocus.


“Myst. It was a computer game. I don’t know what the fuck Riven is, but Myst fits.” 

Yoongi pulled the crossword back towards himself and stared at the small black and white squares. 

“Unless it isn’t,” Hoseok said after a few moments filled with nothing but the sound of Yoongi tapping his pen. “I could be wrong.”

“No, you’re right.” Yoongi gave a small smile as he wrote in the answer and then filled in another section. “It finishes O’day. I can’t believe I missed that.”

Hoseok raised his eyebrows and Yoongi grinned wider. “Anita Colton. She had the stage name O’Day, but no one uses that for her anymore so I forgot. She was a jazz singer.”

Hoseok nodded and adjusted his chair so that he was sitting beside Yoongi. Yoongi bit his lip and willed himself not to blush as Hoseok leaned in close to look at the puzzle.

“You do crosswords?” Hoseok said quietly, and Yoongi nodded. “I’ll be honest, it’s not something I’d picture a rapper doing.”

“Why not?” Yoongi asked, unintentionally matching Hoseok’s volume. “It’s word play. And you learn new things, like…it’s the same with playing scrabble. You build your vocabulary.”

Hoseok snorted and shook his head before reaching out and grabbing Yoongi’s coffee cup. “I’d hate to play scrabble with you,” he said lightly before taking a sip and grimacing. “Holy shit.”

Yoongi laughed as he snatched his cup back. “Why? You not good with words?”

“Nah, I just can’t spell for shit.”

For some reason that made Yoongi laugh harder, and soon Hoseok started laughing as well until they were both bent in towards each other. Hoseok smelled like a combination of vanilla and sandalwood and cranberry tea, and Yoongi was pretty sure he smelled like stale coffee but he didn’t really care. Hoseok was warm next to him, and when his shoulders shook with giggles they brushed Yoongi’s and it felt electric. Yoongi rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses and looked up to catch Hoseok staring at him with an intensity that made him want to simultaneously hide under the table and hide under the table.


“You’ve got…” Hoseok gestured to Yoongi’s face and Yoongi’s brows furrowed. “Just a - may I?”

Hoseok ’s hand hovered by Yoongi’s cheekbone and Yoongi nodded dumbly, unable to do much else. Hoseok gently brushed under Yoongi’s glass frame, one long finger gently swiping along his cheekbone and making his breath catch in his throat. Hoseok held his finger up with a self-satisfied grin and Yoongi glanced down at the small lash perched on his fingertip.

“Make a wish,” Hoseok whispered, and even though it was stupid Yoongi did. “Now blow.”

Yoongi snorted but he blew on the lash anyway and it disappeared from Hoseok’s fingertip. 

“You’re a pervert,” Hoseok said with a smirk, poking Yoongi in the cheek and effectively breaking whatever thick, sexual mood they had been in. “What’d you wish for?”

Yoongi smacked Hoseok’s prodding finger away. “Can’t say. It won’t come true.”

Hoseok stuck out his lip in an exaggerated pout and Yoongi laughed loudly to combat his animalistic desire to bite it. “You’re no fun.”

“That’s me. Min Yoongi, party pooper. And that’s an official title from my four year old. You guys can start a club.”

Hoseok laughed, head tilted back and hand on his stomach. His neck arched beautifully, almost like he was doing it on purpose. Dancer Yoongi reminded himself, and his lips twitched in a brief smile when their eyes met again. 

“Your kids sound cute,” Hoseok said.

“They are. They take after their mother.”

“I doubt that.”

Yoongi’s head whipped around in time to catch Hoseok’s fond gaze and he felt his cheeks heat. He opened his mouth, but then closed it again because all he could think to say was “uhm” and “ah” and “hm” or some variation of the three. He knew kids were a touchy subject for Hoseok so he didn’t want to keep talking about them, even though Jeongguk had shoved himself in the crockpot and dumped an entire gallon of maple syrup on himself to make ‘a tasty snack’ just the other day, but he also didn’t know how long you were allowed to look a married man in the eye like he was doing, and were they getting closer, how close was too close…?

“Uhm, my train is gonna get here soon,” Yoongi stammered out, pulling away and closing up his crossword book.

“Of course.” And the way Hoseok said it made Yoongi a bit angry; frustrated that Hoseok sounded so calm while Yoongi felt like his nerves were frazzling. He shoved everything unceremoniously into his black messenger bag and nodded curtly at Hoseok before he turned towards the door.

“Hey,” Hoseok said, following too closely to Yoongi’s shoulder. “What are you doing on Friday?”

“Friday?” Yoongi’s voice came out surprisingly bored. “Like, tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Hoseok agreed, undeterred by Yoongi’s cold front. “Like tomorrow.”

Yoongi shrugged. “Taehyung has mommy and me yoga so I’ve got Jeongguk for the morning, but other than that -“

“Wanna go out with me?”

Yoongi choked on his spit. “What?”

“No, I mean -“ Hoseok chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “One of my dance groups his performing at this club in the city. And I might freestyle. And there’s always good music and a cypher that happens so, if you’re interested…”

“You want me to watch you dance.”

Hoseok shook his head. “I would love for you to join me as my dance group kicks ass and then maybe push you into a rap battle.”

Laughter burst out of him before Yoongi could help it; the straightforward answer from Hoseok caught him off guard and his laughter was as much surprise as it was nervous embarrassment. 

“Now I’m pretty positive that I have plans that evening.”

“C’mon, hyung,” Hoseok nearly whined, and Yoongi froze. He hadn’t heard that in a while; not even Namjoon called him hyung. It was weird in a different country, with a different culture and a different way of speaking. It was weird now that they were all past their prime.

“Yeah,” Yoongi grumbled, ignoring the way Hoseok threw his arm over his shoulder and squeezed. “Yeah, fine. Stop being weird about it.”

“I’ll text you!” Hoseok shouted as the train pulled up and Yoongi did his best to surreptitiously duck his way on.


“Text me back!”

Yoongi gave a half wave over his shoulder as he boarded the train. He didn’t look out of the windows as he found an empty seat; he kept his head down and slumped into the cushy leather. He focused on steadying his breathing as the train idled, focused on his wife - who he really hadn’t talked to in a while, focused on his kids - who he was sure could tell something was wrong. He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth, and sent a silent thanks as the train pulled out of the station.

His phone vibrated five minutes later.

Jung Hoseok [17:13]: It’s at The Wick Brooklyn. 10 pm

Yoongi rolled his eyes. His finger hovered over the delete button before he sighed and typed a response.

Min Yoongi [17:18]: Liar. You said it was the city.

Jung Hoseok [17:19]: Close enough

Min Yoongi [17:20]: It’s not close at all.

Jung Hoseok [17:20]: It’s one of the Burroughs

Min Yoongi [17:22]: That is precisely why it’s not the city. Dude. It’s its own thing.

Jung Hoseok [17:23]: Omg you’re from Seattle stfu

Jung Hoseok [17:23]: You’re still coming right?

Yoongi chewed on the dry skin of his bottom lip and watched the trees and houses zip by. It made him dizzy. He felt dizzy and giddy and guilty and all things in between. He stared down at his phone, thought of his tiny apartment, and responded.

Min Yoongi [17:47]: Yeah I’ll be there.



In truth The Wick wasn’t that far out of the way - only forty-five minutes by train, but Yoongi still made sure to cross his arms and appear completely inconvenienced when he ran into Hoseok outside. Hoseok wore ripped blue jeans and a white shirt under a baggy hoodie, and his caramel hair was pushed off of his forehead. He looked strikingly cute while also being disarmingly hot, especially when he greeted Yoongi’s disinterested scowl with a bright grin.

“Oh come on, I know you’re excited,” Hoseok said right against his ear as he led him to the front of the line and into the converted warehouse.

“I am no such thing,” Yoongi huffed. If Hoseok noticed his shiver he didn’t say anything, and Yoongi was pretty damn close to convincing himself it was the chill autumn air.

“Uh huh. Want me to get you a drink?”

Yoongi looked at Hoseok, at his bright excited eyes, and bit back a smile. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you’re having.”

Hoseok winked at him and Yoongi was glad for the dim lights and their ability to hide the deep flush colouring his cheeks. The club was crowded; the tables and dance floor were full to capacity, and the bar looked like a living wriggling mass. Yoongi had never liked bars, never liked clubs unless he was on the opposite end performing. They tired him out, drained him of his energy as he tried to navigate the crowds of people. At least he wasn’t single; the only person he really had to keep up a conversation with was Hoseok. 

Hoseok bounded back over with two dark drinks in his hand just as Yoongi was trying to decipher the random graffiti on the concrete column he was leaning against. Yoongi grabbed the cool plastic cup that was offered to him, grinning as the sweet bubbly liquid went down his throat.


Hoseok grinned sheepishly as he sipped on his straw. “I don’t drink when I'm working.”

“That’s fine,” Yoongi said. “I prefer not to.”

“Well, guess we’re just two peas in a pod, then.”

Yoongi snorted as Hoseok wriggled his eyebrows. “Who are you? Who talks like that”

Hoseok leaned forward until his lips brushed Yoongi’s ear. “I can’t believe you forgot. I’m Jung Hoseok, your knight in shining armour.’”

Yoongi kept still as he tried to steady his breathing. The music had picked up which was why Hoseok had leaned in so closely, but it still made Yoongi’s mind go in places he couldn’t afford to have it go. Like how Hoseok’s fingers would feel around the back of his neck instead of resting on his shoulder, or how Hoseok’s lips would feel against his jaw, or how -

“This is them,” Hoseok murmured, and Yoongi nodded automatically. He watched as a group of young twenty-somethings came out onto the stage and posed in a kneeling position on the ground. The music changed to something deeper, a rumbling trap tune that Yoongi vaguely recognized. He watched as the group moved together, as they created flawless pictures while executing sharp movements and flowing ballet. It was mesmerizing, and Yoongi had to blink himself back to reality when the song ended and the club began cheering. He clapped his hand against his thigh so hard that it stung, not even aware of Hoseok still practically leaning on him.

“Holy fuck,” Yoongi exhaled when they left the stage and another group came on. “You did that?”

Hoseok nodded. “Yeah. Those are my community center kids. I mean, I say kids but they’re all adults. Advanced hip-hop. Known some of them since they were thirteen.”

“That was amazing.” Yoongi adjusted his position so that he was leaning against the column facing Hoseok. “Do you still dance like that?”

Hoseok rolled his eyes playfully and took a long sip of his soda. “Duh, I taught them that.”

Yoongi smacked lightly at Hoseok’s chest. “I mean competitively. Do you perform?”

Hoseok shrugged, stepped closer as the music swelled. “Not really. Too busy to do my own shit, you know?”

Yoongi stepped closer as well, tilted his chin up to keep eye contact. “I’d like to see you dance sometime,” he shouted over the music, and even though it wasn’t romantic at all - him practically screaming this demand into Hoseok’s mouth - the man’s resulting grin was beautifully soft.

“I’d like that. For you to watch me.”

Yoongi told himself that the suggestive tone was all in his head. He nodded curtly and turned back to the stage, watched as four more groups came up and shared their routines. He clapped for all of them, but was unsurprised when Hoseok’s group was called back to perform a routine for winning first place.

“I’m gonna go congratulate them,” Hoseok said too close to Yoongi’s ear. “Wanna come?”

Yoongi shook his head. “I’ll stay here,” he shouted without turning around. He felt Hoseok’s warmth leave him and watched as instruments migrated their way onto the stage. Some radio hip-hop played over the speakers and people danced wildly, alcohol loosening their inhibitions and giving Yoongi an interesting show to observe. He caught Hoseok in the corner of the room hugging what looked like a bunch of sweaty teenagers. The man pointed in Yoongi’s direction, and Yoongi blushed as the whole group gave him an enthusiastic wave. He half-waved back before he ducked behind the column, trying to get his wild heartbeat under control. 

He heard a voice checking mics, heard a steadily rising roar in the crowd, but he was still surprised when the announcement of a cypher came. He had thought Hoseok was joking; shit like this didn’t happen anymore, especially not in crowded bars in Brooklyn. He’d been out of the game for too long, had been spending too much time writing pop hits and hip-hop ballads and composing for video game scores. 

“So-“ Yoongi jumped at the sudden closeness of Hoseok’s voice and glowered as the man laughed. “You gonna rap for me?”

Yoongi glanced at the stage, at the already growing line against the stairs. “Yeah, no.”

Hoseok pouted. “Why not? I showed you what I do.”

“No you didn’t. You didn’t dance for me. Your crew did.”

Hoseok pulled Yoongi into him by his belt loops and Yoongi had to bite his tongue to keep from squeaking. Hoseok’s thigh slotted expertly between his own and his rolled his hips in a way that was decidedly filthy. 

“I’ll dance on you all you want,” Hoseok whispered in his ear and Yoongi swallowed a whimper.

“That’s not what I said.” His rasp was heavy and thick, made his voice crack and his lisp more prominent.

“I know.” Hoseok ran his hands up and down Yoongi’s back as he maneuvered them in time to the beat. “But it’s what you meant.”

Yoongi stared up at Hoseok, eyes wide and mouth open. Hoseok’s eyes were hooded and dark, but he couldn’t tell if it was from arousal or just the dim red lighting of the bar. He felt uncomfortably turned on and he couldn’t decide if he wanted it to stop or if he wanted to slam Hoseok against a wall and suck him off. Logically he knew the right answer, but in his fluttering gut…

Yoongi pulled away and pretended he didn’t see the slight pout on Hoseok’s face. “Fine. I’ll rap. Can’t promise it’ll be any good though.”

“It’ll be great,” Hoseok said with an unnaturally bright smile. Yoongi flicked him off and joined the line.

The closer he got to the stage, the more the butterflies in his gut turned into hot lava. He bit at his lips, bit at his cuticles, tapped his fingers against his thighs, shifted from foot to foot. Nervous anticipation coursed through him like raw electricity, so much so that he was surprised when he made it up to the mic that neither of them spontaneously combusted. He nodded at the d.j. and let the beat fill him, a trap/raggae hybrid that got his blood boiling. Words flowed out of him without him thinking, lazy rhymes about his sexual frustration, about his stunted creativity, about his guilt and worries and buried excitement.

He had forgotten what it was like to perform, to go up on stage and let the music take over, to leave awkward quiet Min Yoongi behind and let angry confident Agust D take over. It was liberating to freestyle, and when he spit thirty six bars in fifteen measures and the crowd went wild his chest swelled with pride. He ended on an expletive, debated dropping the mic before he thought better of it and placed it gently back in the stand. He left the stage without acknowledging the crowd, awkward Min Yoongi taking his rightful place in his personality. He shook the hands that were shoved at him and did his best to smile at those who pat him on the back, but he couldn’t help his sigh of relief and resulting shoulder-slump when he made his way back to Hoseok.

“Holy fuck,” Hoseok said loudly, and Yoongi winced. Hoseok took his hand and led him through the club until they were back outside in the cool air. “Holy fuck,” he repeated, more quietly. “That was…something else.”

Yoongi gave a small smile. “You’re welcome.” He chuckled lightly and nudged Hoseok lightly with his elbow. “Shit, I haven’t done something like that in years. I didn’t look stupid?”

Hoseok’s eyes widened. “Did you not hear them in there? People were losing their shit.” Yoongi shook his head and jumped slightly when he felt large dry hands cup his cheeks. “You were ‘dope af,’ as my students say.”

Yoongi snorted and rolled his eyes and Hoseok released his face. He ran his hands down Yoongi’s arm until he grabbed his hand and interlaced their fingers. “Take the train home with me?”

Yoongi squinted his eyes. “I don’t live in the same city as you.”

Hoseok laughed as he pulled Yoongi down the street. “You’re so literal. We start on the same train.”

Yoongi hummed and allowed himself to be dragged onto a bus. They rode in silence, which Yoongi was surprised at - he didn’t know Hoseok could be silent, but he did appreciate it. He checked his phone, vaguely surprised that it was past midnight, and opened the singular text from his wife - a photo of Jeongguk sitting in their dog kennel, his fat cheeks tear-stained but a large smile on his face.

Mina [21:09]: Your son decided to shove Jeongguk in the kennel and Holly in the playpen.

Yoongi sighed; he hated how Mina did that - how whenever Jeongguk or Taehyung misbehaved they automatically became ‘his son,’ like he singlehandedly was fucking up their children. And aside from the dried tears, Jeongguk looked happy, his smile wide with new oversized baby teeth on display. Taehyung probably convinced him to be a dog and Jeongguk got upset when Taehyung left to take care of Holly.

“Is that your kid?” Hoseok asked, and Yoongi nodded as he angled his phone towards the other man.

“This is Jeongguk,” Yoongi said with a soft smile. “Taehyung decided he should be a dog apparently.”

Hoseok laughed quietly and sidled closer to Yoongi’s shoulder. “What’s Taehyung look like? Do you have pictures?”

Yoongi snorted and playfully rolled his eyes. “Do I have pictures,” he said sarcastically as he x’d out of his messaging app. He held up his phone, showing off his home screen of Taehyung and Jeongguk experiencing their first snow. In the photo they’re wearing their pajamas, Taehyung leaning his head back to try and catch snow flakes with his tongue while Jeongguk looks at the snow in his hand with the surprised look of someone who didn’t expect white fluff to feel cold. Their cheeks are fat and their faces covered in snot, but it was Yoongi’s favourite picture of the two of them, taken earlier in the year during the bitter winter of February.

“They’re cute,” Hoseok said softly and Yoongi nodded in agreement. “No pictures of your wife?”

“We -“ Yoongi started, but then trailed off, unsure of how much he actually wanted to share with Hoseok. He let the word hang in the air as he shut off his phone and shoved it back into his jacket pocket. “Nevermind.”

Hoseok nudged Yoongi’s thigh with his own and hummed. “It’s okay,” he said, but what it was exactly that was okay Yoongi didn’t know. He followed Hoseok absently off of the bus and onto an empty PATH train car, Hoseok still opting to sit close to him even though there were plenty of seats.

“Why’s it so empty,” Yoongi mused out loud.

“People want to go into the city for the weekend,” Hoseok said with a wry grin. “No one wants to go into Jersey.”

Yoongi nodded and allowed himself to sink into the uncomfortable train seat. Exhaustion started to creep on him, making his eyelids heavy and his mind more prone to wandering to places like…

How Hoseok’s thighs still looked muscular despite him sitting spread in his seat.

Or how Hoseok’s shirt was a little damp from where his sweat seeped through the fabric around his chest.

Or how Hoseok stirred something in Yoongi that he hadn’t felt in years and it terrified him.

“Hey,” Yoongi said, not bothering to straighten up - his legs spread wide and his hands shoved in his pockets. Hoseok looked down at him and grinned. “You said, the first time we met, you used my mixtape for your college audition.”


“What college did you go to?”

Hoseok smirked. “Julliard.”

“Fuck off,” Yoongi groaned, whacking at Hoseok’s thigh. “‘In hindsight it wasn’t a good idea.’ Fuck off.”

Hoseok laughed and it echoed in the empty train car. He slid down his seat so that he and Yoongi were in mirrored positions and nudged him lightly. “Hey, maybe if I chose something generic I wouldn’t have gotten in and then I could have had an edgy -“ Hoseok’s words were choked off by giggles as Yoongi continued to smack at him. “Edgy…youth! A-and then I could have - ah! Jesus! Been a hardcore dancer! Th-thug life!”

Hoseok slipped off the seat as Yoongi continually prodded his side, and Yoongi followed, straddling Hoseok’s waist.

“Fuck, I give!” Hoseok laughed as he tried to stop Yoongi’s wandering fingers. “I-I’m ticklish!”

Yoongi debated continuing his tickle attack but he decided against it. He let his hands rest lightly on Hoseok’s chest, biting his cheek as Hoseok continued to spasm in the anticipation of being tickled. They sat that way, Yoongi still straddling Hoseok as he laid on the dirty ground, their heavy breathing filling the car. Yoongi shifted back and Hoseok’s hands shot around to grasp his waist as he pulled himself up to a sitting position.

“Show off,” Yoongi breathed, resting his hands against Hoseok’s chest. He could feel the man’s heartbeat, strong and quick beneath his palms.

“Dancer,” Hoseok smirked. “I use my core.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well I’m a pianist so I have strong fingers and a soft ass.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth Yoongi blushed. Hoseok’s mouth opened slightly and his fingers gripped harder on Yoongi’s waist. The butterflies danced in his stomach, a flurry that made his breath catch in his throat, made him bite his lip as Hoseok’s fingers trailed lightly down to the waistband of his jeans.

“Hoseok,” Yoongi whispered, his nose brushing against the other man’s.


And Yoongi could taste his breath, could taste the syrupy sweetness of the coke he had drunk earlier mixed with muted mint. He could practically feel Hoseok’s lips brush against his own, could picture Hoseok holding him, sucking him off, fucking into him, and Yoongi wanted. He wanted in a way he hadn’t wanted anything for a long time.

The train pulled to a stop and Yoongi vaguely registered the name of his station. 

“This is my stop,” he whispered, pulling away and offering his hand to pull Hoseok to his feet.

“Oh yeah…well,” Hoseok shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Thanks for coming out?”

His words went up at the end like he was asking a question and Yoongi couldn’t help but smile at him even though he felt guilty and confused and half hard. 

“Yeah,” he croaked. “I had fun.”

Hoseok brightened at that, chuckled lightly. “I’m glad.”

The doors chimed their thirty second warning, and Yoongi gave a wave before stepping onto the platform. “See you around Seok-ah,” he said, but the doors closed before Hoseok could respond.



“Taehyung, stop trying to feed Jeongguk pinecones!” 

Taehyung turned around, two pinecones in each of his stubby fists. He wiped the back of his hand across his nose and Yoongi dug into his satchel for tissues.

“B-but, Jeonggukie’s hungry,” Taehyung whined as Yoongi wiped sticky snot off of his upper lip. “D-addy he’s a gwoing boy.”

“Mmmromph,” Jeongguk agreed, his fat cheeks stuffed with whatever he found on the ground.

“Out,” Yoongi said, holding out his hand. Jeongguk darted his eyes to Taehyung before leaning over and opening his mouth, soggy acorns tumbling out into Yoongi’s hand. Yoongi chuckled before tossing the acorns over his shoulder and attacking Jeongguk’s nose with the tissue. “Gotta say, that’s impressive kid.”

Jeongguk made some noise between a laugh and a whine as he tried to get his nose away from the tissue. 

“Daaaaaaa,” he said, holding Yoongi’s wrist. “Hungee.”

“You just ate, bud.” Yoongi groaned as Taehyung launched himself onto his back and wrapped his arms around his neck. Jeongguk squealed and wrapped his arms around Yoongi’s neck from the front, effectively whacking Taehyung’s face with his tiny fist and causing Taehyung to shout right in Yoongi’s ear.

“Owwww Gukkie!”

“Alright,” Yoongi growled, scooping his hands under his children’s butts as he lifted them off the ground while he stood. He spun around while Taehyung and Jeongguk squealed in his ears, and their bright laughter brought a wide smile to his face. 

“You guys really hungry?” Yoongi asked as he dropped them back down. 

“Yes!” They shouted at the same time, and Yoongi sighed fondly. He hadn’t spoken to Hoseok since their night out in Brooklyn two weeks before, and he’d thrown all his frustration into composing and chasing his kids around Central Park on his days off. He looked at his two stumpy boys with their runny noses and tubby cheeks as they grinned up at him holding each others hands.

“Alright then. What are we getting?”

“Kewersh,” Jeongguk said firmly.

“You want some skewers?” Yoongi said.

Jeongguk nodded emphatically, but Taehyung’s focus was elsewhere. Yoongi heard a familiar voice shout “Mickey” at the same time that Taehyung screamed “puppy” and Jeongguk made a sound that was the vocalized version of what Yoongi imagined “fda;flkashfa” sounded like. Before Yoongi’s brain had time to catch up to what was happening, Taehyung was on the ground screaming with a pile of fur on top of him and Jeongguk was speaking some childhood language that Yoongi didn’t understand and that was in a decibel range that was almost painful.

It took Yoongi a couple of seconds to realize that screams coming from his son were peals of laughter and that the tiny dog was not mauling Taehyung, but licking his face. Jeongguk tugged at Yoongi’s sweater sleeve.

“Da, I wanna pway. Wanna pway with Taetae and puppy!”

“I’m so sorry.” Yoongi turned, not surprised to see Jung Hoseok scooping up the little dog and tucking it under his arm. “He just got out of his collar and,” Hoseok’s eyes widened almost comically. “Oh. Hi.”

Yoongi scooped Taehyung off of the ground and then grabbed still babbling Jeongguk. He balanced both of them on his hips and nodded to Hoseok.

“Hey,” he said, trying his best to not freak out in front of his kids. Hoseok looked at him with lips slightly parted and a deep blush on his face, and Yoongi was sure that he fared no better. Even with his kids filling his arms he wanted to pull Hoseok in for a kiss.

“Daaaaaddy,” both Taehyung and Jeongguk whined into his ears. “Can we pway with the puppy pwease!”

“I thought you were hungry,” Yoongi grumbled and held in a wince when Taehyung tugged his hair.

“Jeonggukie can eat some acworns.”

Hoseok laughed and the sound made Yoongi’s stomach flip. “I don’t mind. I can get Mickey back on his leash.”

“They act like they don’t have a dog at home,” Yoongi grumbled, rubbing his nose against Taehyung’s. His eldest scrunched his nose and gripped Yoongi’s cheeks with his small hands.

“Holly is boring,” Taehyung said dramatically.

“Bowing,” Jeongguk agreed, and Yoongi sighed. 

“Five minutes,” he agreed, quickly checking in with Hoseok who nodded as he manipulated the pink sparkly collar back onto his dog.

Jeongguk and Taehyung both squealed, and Yoongi grunted. He set them both on the ground and managed to warn Jeongguk off of eating acorns before Hoseok’s dog joined them and all of his attempted warnings were swallowed by screaming and barking.

“They’re even cuter in person,” Hoseok said quietly and Yoongi nodded. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Yoongi looked up into Hoseok’s face, and his wide brown eyes made Yoongi’s spit well in his mouth. He swallowed. 

“Um yeah. I’ve been taking a later train. Midterms are coming up, later office hours and shit you know.”

Hoseok nodded. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and watched Taehyung and Jeongguk get tangled in Mickey’s leash. He looked slightly out of place, a little jealous, a little hurt, a little bit fucking hot with his ripped jeans and green bomber jacket and turtleneck sweater.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Hoseok mumbled. “Last time-“

“It’s fine,” Yoongi said quickly, his heart picking up in his chest.

“It’s really not.” Hoseok ran his hand through his hair. “Look, Yoongi I -

“Yeah, I know,” Yoongi said, leaning over to untangle Jeongguk from Mickey’s leash. “Me too.”

They didn’t say anything for a few minutes, just watched Taehyung and Jeongguk chase Mickey in tight concentric circles until Jeongguk tripped and started crying that special cry that kids have when they are tired and hungry.

“Looks like someone needs a nap,” Hoseok said fondly and Yoongi nodded as he picked Jeongguk up.

“They were complaining about second lunch, if you wanna join?”

Hoseok looked at him with a grin that was too bright. “I’d love to. Mickey lives with my mom though, right down the road. I need to bring him back first.”

Yoongi felt a tug on his sleeve and he looked down to meet the serious gaze of Taehyung.

“Daddy, who is Mickey’s daddy?”

“I’m Hoseok,” Hoseok said softly, kneeling down so that he was on Taehyung’s level. He held his hand out and Taehyung practically screamed at the opportunity to shake it - something he had only seen Yoongi do at work when he got dragged along. He gripped Hoseok’s hand in both of his and shook it wildly. Hoseok laughed softly, and the sound made warmth fill Yoongi’s gut. 

Hoseok was good with Taehyung; he listened while the kid babbled about Holly and how he was different from Mickey with complete attention. It was endearing, and perhaps hitting a little too close to home for Yoongi. Because in the deep corners of his mind a tiny voice whispered this could be yours. This is perfect.

Yoongi watched as Taehyung held his arms up and Hoseok laughed before swooping him into the air one-handed. He balanced Taehyung expertly on his hip and Yoongi thought, not for the first time, that the world was cruel. 

“Hey, um, my mom is like, traditional Korean. Like, she feeds everyone. And she doesn’t have grandkids so-“

Yoongi’s lips quirked up into a small smile. “Are you inviting me to meet your mother?”

Hoseok’s face flushed but he didn’t look away. “Yeah. For lunch. She was making kimchi bokkeumbap when I left.”

“Bokkebap!” Taehyung shouted.

“Rice! Rice!” Jeongguk echoed, and Yoongi laughed. 

“I guess that’s a yes?”

Hoseok laughed brightly and Yoongi followed behind as Hoseok led them through the park. Taehyung babbled nonstop and Hoseok smiled, and laughed, and answered his questions, and pressed tickling kisses to the boy’s cheeks. It made something swell in Yoongi’s chest - made him want to throw up.

“Daddy,” Jeongguk mumbled into his neck. “Is,” he pointed at Hoseok, “your fwien?”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Yoongi said, not missing the way Hoseok looked back with a warm smile. “He’s my friend.”

“Can he come over to pway?”

Hoseok’s smile froze on his face and Yoongi felt like the butterflies that had taken up residence in his stomach were going to burst out of his chest. “Yeah, maybe,” he lied.

“Good,” Jeongguk said with a yawn, and Yoongi felt worse than he did when he woke up after their trip to Brooklyn with the realization that if the train hadn’t stopped he would have happily made out with Hoseok on the ground. They walked on in muted silence until Hoseok stepped up to a quaint brownstone, keys jingling in his hand.

“This is it,” Hoseok said, opening the door to a spacious apartment filled with lush carpets and overrun with framed pictures on the walls and various end tables. Yoongi could see straight down the hallway to the living room and the back porch outside. Hoseok took Mickey off of his leash and he immediately ran up the stairs barking happily. It was homey in a way that reminded him of his own parents house back in Canada - a place he hadn’t been to in ages.

“It’s so big!” Taehyung screeched, and Yoongi winced.

“Hey, kiddo, what voice do we use?”

Taehyung looked down at his shoes with a sheepish pout. “The inside one,” he mumbled.

“That’s right,” Yoongi began as he set Jeongguk down, but before he could say anything else a short woman bumbled out of the kitchen.

“Hoseok-ah, did you bring…” she trailed off as she took in Yoongi kneeling on the ground between Taehyung and Jeongguk with Hoseok working the laces on Jeongguk’s boots. The woman looked confused for a moment before her face broke out into a wide grin. 

“You brought company,” she said, delighted. She knelt down in front of Taehyung and wiped his cheek with an arthritic thumb. “Oh, look at you. What is your name little one?”

“Taehyung Min,” Taehyung said proudly. He held out four fingers. “And I’m this many!”

“Gukkie!” Jeongguk shouted around his mouthful of scarf. “Jeongukkie! An I -“ he looked to Yoongi with his hand out and Yoongi gently manipulated his fingers until three were sticking up. “This many!”

The woman laughed and tucked Taehyung’s light brown hair behind his ear. “You can call me halmeoni, hm?” She glanced over at Yoongi. “I’m Hana,” she said lightly, “but you can call me Eomma if you want.”

Yoongi nodded, biting his tongue against the urge to argue that he couldn’t call this woman ‘eomma’ and that he preferred a more formal name. He glanced over at Hoseok who shrugged with a small smile as he finished getting Jeongguk out of his winter clothes. It wasn’t until he realized that Hoseok’s mother was still staring at him that he hadn’t introduced himself.

“Ah, I’m Min Yoongi,” he said with a slight bow as he straightened up. “I work with your son.”

The woman nodded and gestured towards the kitchen. “Welcome to my home. I have plenty of food to go around.”

“Bokkebap!” Taehyung shouted, then caught Yoongi’s eye and ducked his head. “Bokkebap,” he repeated in a whisper.

“Rice,” Jeongguk whispered back, and Hoseok laughed big and bright. Yoongi felt that familiar tug behind his bellybutton, and he followed woodenly as Hoseok led his sons into the kitchen where plates and bowls were already set up on the table. 

“Hey hey,” Yoongi said in as stern a voice he could muster when Taehyung and Jeongguk went for the small chairs. “What do we do first?”

Taehyung looked down at his hands. “But mines is clean!”

“Me too,” Jeongguk said, holding out dirt covered hands.

“You were playing outside, bud,” Yoongi said softly.

“And with a dog,” Hoseok added.

Taehyung sighed dramatically. “Okay,” he grumbled. “Gotta wash our hands Gukkie.”

Jeongguk held his hands up and Yoongi picked him up while Hoseok grabbed Taehyung. They propped them over the sink and somehow managed to wash their hands without splashing water and soap everywhere - a feat Yoongi hadn’t yet managed at home. He looked at Hoseok over Jeongguk’s head, watched the way his eyes sparkled, the way he gently pressed kisses into Taehyung’s hair, the way he murmured to the kid like he was the most important thing in the world. It was beautiful.

And as lunch went on, both of them helping to feed Taehyung and Jeongguk so that more food ended up in their mouths instead of on the floor or in their hair, Yoongi felt comfortable in way that he hadn’t for a long time. He felt a sense of home that he didn’t realize he’d been missing. He hadn’t seen his mother since Jeongguk was born and his wife decided to baptize him. He hadn’t had an active sit-down meal like this with his family in months, maybe years. It felt nice, and safe, and warm.

And when he looked over to see Jeongguk asleep with his cheek squished against the table and Taehyung trying his best not to yawn, he couldn’t say no when Hana offered to tuck them into the small bed in the guest room to nap.

“I’m ready for a nap too,” Hoseok laughed as they stepped outside so Yoongi could smoke. 

Yoongi smiled around his cigarette as he lit it. The smoke burned through his lungs in familiar comfort, warming him against the chill autumn wind.

“You’re really good with them. Tae can be a handful. We think he has ADD. He gets in trouble a lot.”

Hoseok looked genuinely surprised. “I don’t know why. You just gotta listen to him. Get on his level.”

Yoongi nodded, watched Hoseok with a small smile until the man blushed and bit his lip against a grin.


“You’re gonna make a good dad,” Yoongi said softly. “I wish I could keep you.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth he wished he could take them back. Hoseok looked at him with confusion until his expression morphed into something darker, something hungry and dangerous. It was the same look Yoongi had noticed in the club, only now he had no dim red lights to blame it on.

“Yeah,” Hoseok said softly. “Me too.”

They stood in silence while Yoongi smoked and Hoseok watched a squirrel run around in circles in the tiny courtyard. 

“Yoongi,” Hoseok whispered, so softly his words almost got carried with the wind. “I had fun today.”

“Me too.”

“And last time. And the time before that.”

Yoongi took a shaky breath and nodded stiffly. He could feel Hoseok’s eyes burning holes into his skin; he felt too hot, too tight, like he could crack apart at any minute.


“Do you visit your mom often?”

Hoseok blinked before a slow unsure smile spread across his face. Yoongi knew that he had changed the subject too abruptly, knew that Hoseok knew, and he appreciated it when the other man let the subject drop.

“Yeah. Every weekend. My dad passed away last year-“

“I’m sorry.”

Hoseok shrugged. “He was really sick. Honestly I’m glad he passed. He was miserable in the end.” Hoseok sighed, shoved his hands deeper into his pockets.  “But my mom needs someone to take care of still, you know?”

Yoongi nodded. His mother still sent him care packages even though he’d been married for over a decade and hadn’t visited in two years.

“Does your wife…?” Yoongi trailed off as he stubbed out his cigarette and placed it back into the foil pack. Hoseok shook his head.

“No. Susan doesn’t come. She…we had a miscarriage a couple years ago. Took a lot out of her. We really…We really thought it was gonna be the one, you know?”

“I’m - shit. I’m so sorry.” Yoongi wrapped his arm around Hoseok’s shoulder and pretended he didn’t notice the way the younger man wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Yoongi thought back to when he and Mina started dating, how four months in she told him she was pregnant. How excited he had been, filled with all the idealism that twenty-four could afford. How two weeks later when he brought up baby names she told him she had ‘taken care of it.’

“What do you mean?” he had asked.

“It’s my body,” she said instead of actually answering.

“Y-eah, but it’s my kid. Our kid.”

Mina had snorted, poured herself a glass of wine. “Please. It wasn’t even a kid yet. Besides, what the fuck would we do with it? We can’t afford to raise a kid, Yoongi. You’re not exactly Kanye West, and I’m no Jane Goodall.”

He had been devastated, and by the time Mina decided she was ready she was in the ‘high risk’ category and Yoongi spent every waking moment making sure she stayed off of her feet and praying to some god he suddenly decided to believe in to bless him with a kid.

And apparently it listened, because he ended up with two of them. Two beautiful angels that he didn’t deserve. Not like Hoseok deserved kids; Hoseok, who was literally the sun.

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok said with a forced laugh, still sniffling, and Yoongi squeezed him closer. 

“Don’t apologize.”

“It’s just a mess,” Hoseok laughed again, dry and brittle, and Yoongi had a passing thought that if Hoseok was his he’d never sound like that. “We don’t talk. It’s like we’re not even married.” 

“Hoseok,” Yoongi murmured, pulling Hoseok further into him until they were curled around each other in a tight hug. He heard Hoseok sniffle by his ear, felt the warm puffs of his breath against his neck. It felt nice. It felt right. And all Yoongi could think about with Hoseok’s breathing steadying against his skin was how much he wanted to feel that breath against his mouth, how much he wanted to feel the chapped lips brushing against his neck pressing against his own lips. Yoongi stepped back, his hand coming up to cup Hoseok’s face, cool fingers keeping contact as he rubbed his thumb over the sharp line of Hoseok’s jaw. 

Yoongi tried to pretend that the way Hoseok’s eyelids fluttered and the way his breath hitched didn’t affect him. But Hoseok’s eyes were wide and dark and Yoongi’s breath came in short, shallow pants, and he knew it wasn’t a good idea - what with Hoseok’s mother in the house and his kids just a few walls away - what with them both having rings on their fingers that were a set to other people. He knew he shouldn’t tilt his face up so that his lips connected firmly with Hoseok’s, but he did it anyway. And Hoseok’s lips were chapped and plush and warm and Yoongi could smell the muted spice of his aftershave and he could taste the remnants of their lunch and coffee on Hoseok’s breath and it made Yoongi’s heart stutter in his chest and it was so good and he wanted more, wanted to cling to Hoseok and never let go -

They separated with a smack of lips that seemed extraordinarily loud, that made Yoongi’s cheeks burn as his eyes darted to make sure that they hadn’t been seen. Hoseok stared at Yoongi with spit-slicked lips parted and eyes wide, and Yoongi tried to pretend it didn’t hurt when Hoseok ran his hands over his face like he was washing all remnants of Yoongi away.

“Hyung-“ Hoseok croaked.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and his voice sounded gruff and crackly, like it was an old gramaphone recording and not something he was actually saying in the moment. “That was inappropriate.”

“I’m sorry too,” Hoseok said quietly, and Yoongi furrowed his brows.

“What are you sorry for?”

Hoseok smiled, the same small smile he had given after Yoongi had punched him in the chest.

“Because I really wanted you to do that.”



Jung Hoseok [23:18]: Can I take you and your kids ice skating?

Min Yoongi [23:20]: It’s a bit late for that 

Jung Hoseok [23:21]: Har har. I meant later. Like Sunday.

Min Yoongi [23:25]: Is that a good idea

Jung Hoseok [23:26]: I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself

Min Yoongi [23:30]: That’s dumb. I’m going to need your hands to make sure my kids don’t eat shit and die.

Jung Hoseok [23:30]: *eat ice and die

Jung Hoseok [23:31]: Why is it taking you so long to respond

Jung Hoseok [23:31]: I’m gonna fall asleep on you old man

Min Yoongi [23:40]: Then go to sleep. Why are you even awake?

Jung Hoseok [23:40]: I’m horny

Jung Hoseok [23:41]: That was a joke. I shouldn’t have sent that. Ignore that.

Min Yoongi [23:41]: Yeah? Me too

Min Yoongi [23:41]: Oh

Min Yoongi [23:42]: Well

Min Yoongi [23:42]: Ha

Jung Hoseok [23:43]: By joke I mean totally serious

Min Yoongi [23:45]: Good night Hoseok

Jung Hoseok [23:46]: You were about to sext me weren’t you ;) That’s why it’s taking you so long.

Min Yoongi [23:46]: No. I’m going to fucking bed.

Jung Hoseok [23:47]: We’re still on though for Sunday right?

Jung Hoseok [23:50]: I’m sorry. It was a really bad joke.

Jung Hoseok [00:04]: Good night Yoongi



Hoseok looked effortlessly beautiful leaning against the outside railing of the Central Park ice rink. Jeongguk and Taehyung both squealed at the sight of him, jumping up and down until Yoongi felt like his head was going to explode while his arms fell out of their sockets. Hoseok smiled and waved, big and bright, igniting more enthusiasm in the toddlers until they were nearly screaming.

“Wow, they’re pretty stoked,” Hoseok said with a laugh, bending down to give in to Taehyung’s demanding ‘high-five’ and re-acquaint himself with Jeongguk.

“They weren’t five minutes ago,” Yoongi grumbled, wincing as Jeongguk caught on to where they were and who Hoseok was and began jumping even harder. 

“Oh daddy, are you having a rough day?” Hoseok cooed, straightening up with a smirk that made Yoongi’s face flush.

“Yes,” he snipped. “And don’t call me that.”

Hoseok shrugged lightly, but Yoongi didn’t miss the downturn of his lips - the way his mouth folded in on itself until it was a little triangle. 

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi mumbled as they stood in line for their skates. “I just - headache.” It wasn’t a complete lie; Jeongguk and Taehyung’s screaming had died down, but they were still trying to talk to Yoongi and Hoseok at the same time - words and sounds mincing together in some language that somehow sounded like a screeching drawl.

Hoseok’s eyebrows immediately furrowed into a look of concern. He leaned in close to Yoongi’s ear, so close that Yoongi could feel his breath on his cheek. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” Yoongi stuttered out. He waved off Hoseok’s concern and forced a wide smile. “I’m golden.”

“You know,” Hoseok murmured, “I didn’t think you were going to show up.”

“I almost didn’t,” Yoongi admitted. And it was true. He had sat on the texts Hoseok had sent for three days before he deleted them, fully intending to forget the offer and ignore Hoseok completely - to let whatever thing that was brewing between them fizzle out. But he hadn’t been able to. The night before he brought up ice-skating at dinner, and once Jeongguk and Taehyung heard ‘skating’ that’s all they would talk about until Yoongi promised to take them.

“What changed your mind?”

Yoongi looked into wide brown eyes; Hoseok wore his feelings on his sleeve - every bit of worry, hope, nervousness, and delight were painted across his features like a canvas that Yoongi was privileged to look on. He shrugged, ducking his head to hide the blush he could feel rising on his cheeks. He didn’t want to say because I missed you even though it was true. Didn’t want to admit I needed this. Such admissions were dangerous, and maybe Hoseok understood that - or he was a mind reader, because he let the subject drop.

The first fifteen minutes on the ice was filled with much flailing - from Yoongi and his kids - while Hoseok laughed and tried to keep all of them upright. Eventually Taehyung settled for clinging to both of Yoongi’s hands and letting himself be carried along while Jeongguk decided his time was better spent lying on the ice making ice angels.

“Don’t you want to try again?” Hoseok asked, squatting over Jeongguk to protect him from other skaters while Yoongi tried to keep his balance as Taehyung kept jumping.

“No,” Jeongguk huffed, new baby teeth sticking out over his bottom lip like a baby bunny.

“What if I hold you up? Like your daddy is doing for Taehyung?”

Jeongguk narrowed his eyes and Yoongi bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

“No fall,” Jeongguk insisted, and when Hoseok smiled Yoongi knew he was fucked because somehow - some fucking how - he had managed to fall in love with the dorky man with the heart-shaped smile.

“I promise I won’t let you fall.” Hoseok held out his hands and Yoongi watched as Jeongguk allowed himself to be lifted. After a few minutes of Hoseok patiently waiting through Jeongguk screaming and refusing to put his skates on the ice, he managed to get Jeongguk stable enough to take around the rink.

“Woah,” Taehyung squealed, jumping up and down and just barely avoiding tripping Yoongi. “Daddy, I wanna go like that too!”

Yoongi grinned as he watched Hoseok expertly weave backwards while holding Jeongguk close.

“I’m not that cool, kiddo,” Yoongi said as he shuffled forward at a snail’s pace.

“Uncle Seokkie,” Taehyung shouted when Hoseok was close enough. “My turn!”

“No,” Jeongguk said, and Yoongi could see his little fingers clench harder around Hoseok’s. “Gukkie with un’le Seokkie. Taetae with daddy.”

“What’s wrong with me?” Yoongi asked with as much mock offense as he could muster while trying not to laugh at Jeongguk’s sullen pout and Taehyung’s confused face.

“I fell,” Jeongguk said, and Yoongi laughed.

“I’m sorry Guk, but you told me to let you go.”

“I like Un’le Seokkie more,” Jeongguk said, doe eyes wide in wonder.

“Me too,” Taehyung shouted, leaning so far forward that his small nose almost brushed Hoseok’s knee.

Yoongi caught Hoseok’s eyes, all bright and shiny, and winked. “Betrayed by my own children.”

Hoseok laughed. “I’m just a rare novelty.”

“You’re not tea,” Taehyung said, making Hoseok and Yoongi laugh harder.

“Tea!” Jeongguk screeched, and Taehyung nodded his head so hard that his hat almost fell off.

“I wan’ tea,” he agreed.

“Tea or hot cocoa,” Hoseok asked, and Yoongi bit his lip from saying ‘you little shit’ out loud - but judging from the smirk on Hoseok’s face he knew he was playing the devil in the situation. Toddlers presented with choices sometimes led to complete standstills while they tried to work out what they wanted.

“Both,” Taehyung said seriously, and Jeongguk nodded. Yoongi allowed himself to be pulled by Hoseok on one hand, each child on one of their arms, as they skated to the entrance of the rink. Taehyung and Jeongguk filled the space with chatter about warm drinks, and as Yoongi massaged feeling back into his kids’ (and his own) toes, he didn’t mind that all thoughts of ice skating were forgotten when Hoseok appeared with four cups.

“So here’s the plan,” he said giving a small lidded cup each to Jeongguk and Taehyung. “One has tea and one has hot cocoa. You have to share to get both.”

Taehyung nodded emphatically, tongue darting out against the snot on his upper lip. “You have to share with daddy too?”

Hoseok grinned directly at Yoongi, and Yoongi felt the familiar flush creep up his neck. “If daddy wants some hot chocolate,” Hoseok said, his voice laced with sweet venom as he passed a cup to Yoongi, “he has to share.”

Yoongi laughed, a little breathless ‘hah’ of air through his already open mouth. “No fair,” he croaked, then groaned as he got a kick in the shin from a little booted foot.

“Hafta share daddy,” Taehyung said, diligently passing his cup to Jeongguk, who put his cup down on the bench between them to not drop it. Yoongi felt an unfathomable warmth erupt in the pit of his gut - a feeling that was inexplainable except for the knowledge that he had done something right. His kids were going to be alright - they were going to be fine, and that knowledge settled him despite everything else swirling in Yoongi’s mind making him feel like shit about himself, about his marriage, about his career, about whatever thing he had going on with Hoseok.


Yoongi jumped - warmth on his lower back as Hoseok’s hand pressed against his spine. He smiled softly in response to Hoseok’s questioning gaze and took a sip of his tea - cinnamon ginger. 

“We could take a lovers shot,” Hoseok said, hesitant smile quickly hidden by an embarrassed gulp of his hot chocolate.

“Sure,” Yoongi said, and the shock on Hoseok’s face mirrored the shock he felt in his own body. “Just once.”



“I want to see you.”

Yoongi looked up from the term papers he was grading - the last of the papers before the end of the semester - into bespectacled gaze of Hoseok.

“You’re seeing me right now,” Yoongi said, burying further into his chunky knit scarf.

Hoseok chuckled as he pulled out the iron chair from the small table Yoongi was sitting at and plopped down. Yoongi let his eyes wander, over the beanie that made Hoseok’s ears bend, his long bare throat, the oversized brown coat hiding a tight work-out thermal and jeans. Yoongi brought his eyes back to Hoseok’s gaze, refusing (and failing) to blush at the man’s knowing smirk.

“Is it safe to say you want to see me too?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, his insides churning with guilt.

“Hoseok,” he said. We should stop. What are we even doing? You’re married. I’m married. We should stop, we should stop.


Yoongi stared into deep brown eyes, felt goosebumps rise along his arms even though he was wearing his heaviest black wool sweater and the train station was warm.




“What is this?” Yoongi asked over the swell of reggae music. Bodies pressed up against him and he felt claustrophobic and electric and too hot in his oversized hoodie and black jeans.  Hoseok’s grip tightened around his hand and he felt like he was thirteen, sixteen, nineteen - having his first kiss, his first drink, his first fuck. Butterflies took up permanent residence in his gut and when he looked up into bright eyes and a heart shaped smile he couldn’t stop himself from smiling back.

“It’s a party!” Hoseok yelled back. He pulled Yoongi into him until their chests were flush. Long fingers gripped his hips and Yoongi would be lying if he wasn’t terrified of popping a boner because of all of the ways Yoongi could imagine those fingers on other part of his body. 

“We’re too old for this,” Yoongi said directly into Hoseok’s ear, resisting the urge to bite the lobe. Hoseok’s ears were something that Yoongi fantasized about on the regular - they were perfect: the perfect size, unpierced, the lobes inviting and soft. Hoseok laughed, the kind of laugh where he tilted his head back and his Adams apple stuck out right in Yoongi’s eyesight.

“Yoongi, we’re in a club in the middle of Jersey City - there’s no one here but middle aged singles.”

Yoongi smirked, leaned in and rubbed his barely-there stubble along Hoseok’s neck as he leaned up to whisper in his ear.

“We’re not middle aged singles,” he whispered, not even sure if Hoseok could hear him.

Hoseok pulled back slightly so that their noses brushed. “We don’t have to stay.”

Yoongi saw the invitation for what it was - the proverbial ‘get out of jail free card.’ He knew what it was and he knew he should take it; they both were dancing too close to the line, maybe had already crossed it, but Yoongi didn’t want to step away. He wanted to ride it a little bit longer.

“You said you would dance for me,” he said instead, and Hoseok’s eyes narrowed and darkened into something smoldering, something that made Yoongi feel like he was on fire.

“I did say that, didn’t I,” Hoseok nearly growled into his ear before Yoongi felt the hot slick of Hoseok’s tongue along his lobe, teasing his piercings. Some sort of noise escaped him, something between a groan and a whine, something thoroughly embarrassing that Yoongi hoped the music hid. Hoseok stepped away, keeping their fingers interlocked, and his hungry grin made Yoongi feel like a wet noodle.

Hoseok’s body was a thing of beauty; no, it was an amazing machine capable of doing things Yoongi had never seen another person do. Even with Yoongi’s fingers interlaced with his and Yoongi bumping along awkwardly trying to keep up with his moves Hoseok was in complete control of his body. He swiveled his hips and rolled his shoulders and popped and locked every single joint that Yoongi almost worried he would break in half. When Hoseok pressed up against him, released Yoongi’s hands so he could wrap his arms around the smaller man’s waist, Yoongi felt all of the air leave his lungs. Hoseok danced filthily and Yoongi could only follow, his jeans getting impossibly tighter the more Hoseok grinded on him, the more Hoseok’s lips brushed against his neck, hot breath and saliva mixing with the sweat on his throat, making him hot with want, with need.

“Come outside with me,” Hoseok whispered raggedly against his ear, and Yoongi could only nod before he was led through the tight waves of moving bodies until they reached the blessedly cool air of the New Jersey night. As soon as the cold air hit his flushed cheeks, Yoongi burst into fits of laughter, fingers gripping tighter in Hoseok’s hand.

“I haven’t,” Yoongi started, his words choking up when Hoseok pulled him against his body as he leaned against the brick wall. “Haven’t done this.”

“Done what?” Hoseok murmured, brushing his nose against Yoongi’s.

“This,” he whispered before pressing his lips against Hoseok’s, quick, chaste. “Dancing,” he said against Hoseok’s mouth, feeling the way plush heart-shaped lips grinned against his own. He felt the rush of hot breath before Hoseok licked into his mouth, all warm and wet and slick. 

He groaned as Hoseok cupped his face and pressed him farther against the wall, mouth opening wider and his tongue sliding along the other man’s in a way that was almost too erotic for Yoongi to comprehend. He arched against Hoseok’s body, spread his legs wider when Hoseok’s leg pressed in between his, gripped his fingers into Hoseok’s clothes, the muscles of his shoulder, his hair.

“Fuck Yoongi,” Hoseok gasped against Yoongi’s neck and Yoongi had the strange urge to whimper - something he had never been compelled to do in his life.

“I love you,” Yoongi blurted, bile rising in the back of his throat when Hoseok pulled away from him, eyes wide and chest heaving.

“What?” Hoseok whispered, so softly that it was almost drowned out by the distant bass in the club and car horns and sirens on the streets.

“I…” fuck it. “I love you.”

The smile that erupted on Hoseok’s face made Yoongi feel like he was going to pass out. Hoseok’s mouth attacked his, hard and messy, all lips and teeth and tongue as rough hands ran down his chest and gripped his hips.

“I love you,” Hoseok whispered against his mouth, tongue swiping filthily in and out. “I love you, too, fuck you have no idea.”

Yoongi moaned as Hoseok’s hands gripped underneath his thighs and lifted him. He wrapped his legs around Hoseok’s waist and tangled his fingers in Hoseok’s hair as Hoseok kissed down his neck, rough and biting. The air in his lungs felt too hot, fire burning in and out of his mouth as he gasped and panted. He felt teeth on his skin and made a sound from deep in his chest.

“Hoseok,” Yoongi moaned, arching against Hoseok’s crotch as best as he could given his position. “Please.”

“Come home with me,” Hoseok whispered against his ear, one hand leaving from around his thigh to run his fingers along Yoongi’s waistband.

“I -“ Yoongi gasped as a hand palmed his crotch. “I can’t.”

“Susan’s gone for the holidays. Staying with her family.” Hoseok’s breath was too hot, his tongue too good, his words like syrupy honey, and Yoongi felt so, so weak.

“I want you,” Yoongi murmured instead of actually agreeing, and when Hoseok’s teeth grazed along his jugular Yoongi almost thought he could come in his pants.

“Let me suck you off.”

A high pitched whine bubbled out of Yoongi’s mouth as Hoseok’s lips covered his. Hoseok palmed his crotch and it had been so long since he was touched by anything but his own hand that he felt ready to explode. He nipped at Hoseok’s lip and grinned when the younger man pulled away, tongue darting out to sooth the sting on pouty lips. They started at each other, panting, breath fogging in the cold night air. 

“Will you let me?” Hoseok whispered, and Yoongi’s stomach rose to his chest.

“What? Here?”

Hoseok nodded towards the half-hidden alleyway. “I mean, or you could come home with me.”

But that was too much, too close to the separate lives they led for Yoongi to agree to. “You want to suck me off in an alley,” he said, deadpan. Hoseok pressed him harder against the wall and Yoongi bit his tongue to keep from moaning.

“I want your dick in my mouth,” Hoseok growled. “I want you to come down my throat. I don’t care where. I just want you.”

Yoongi’s breath sped up to near hyperventilation levels. His fingers gripped and loosened in Hoseok’s hair as he tried to steady his racing heartbeat. 

“What are you doing to me?” Yoongi gasped against Hoseok’s mouth, and Hoseok chuckled as he gently lowered his legs back to the ground.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Hoseok wrapped his arms around Yoongi’s waist and pulled him into the dark recess of the alley. He pressed Yoongi against the cool bricks before he attacked his neck, kissing and biting his way down to the loose collar of Yoongi’s hoodie. Yoongi almost felt like his brain whited out as cold fingers trailed under his shirt, as Hoseok sunk down to his knees, as warm breath ghosted over the waistband of his jeans.

“Ho-Hoseok,” Yoongi whispered, and his fly was undone and long fingers were rubbing him through his boxers and it was so wrong but he was so achingly hard and he didn’t want it to stop.

“You’re so hard,” Hoseok murmured, and Yoongi gasped as cool air and then warm wet heat enveloped him.

Hoseok took him over halfway down in one go and Yoongi watched, wide-eyed and slack jawed at the way Hoseok’s lips stretched around him, the way long tan fingers contrasted with the pale flush of his cock. All outside noise faded away around the slick sound of Hoseok sliding up and down his cock, the occasional sniffle as Hoseok’s nose ran, the small gagging sounds as he took Yoongi deeper, and the tiny whimpers that Yoongi tried to muffle with his fist.

“S-Seok,” Yoongi groaned as Hoseok pulled up just enough to lap at the slit. “F-fuck, I’m gonna -“

“Do it.” Hoseok looked up at him with watery eyes and a runny nose and a slick chin while he pumped Yoongi’s dick, and Yoongi had the thought that he wanted to stay with this man forever. He wanted this moment to last forever. He wanted to go home with Hoseok and fuck and sleep and wake up next to him the next morning. Hoseok wrapped his lips around the head of Yoongi’s cock and sucked hard, and Yoongi gripped Hoseok’s hair as he came with a low whine. 

Yoongi pulled Hoseok up before Hoseok could even tuck him back into his jeans and licked into the younger’s mouth, spit and cum smearing between their chins. He held Hoseok’s face close as he kissed him, his other hand snaking down between their bodies and deftly undoing the button of his jeans. His hands moved on autopilot - almost like he was still in college drunkenly hooking up every weekend. Hoseok felt thick and hot in his hand, skin at the base velvety smooth and sticky with pre-cum near the tip. Hoseok groaned and gasped and whined into his mouth as Yoongi worked him over, and it was so erotic that Yoongi had a fleeting thought that if he went home with Hoseok he could be hard again.

“God Hoseok you’re so wet for me,” Yoongi panted against Hoseok’s neck, and Hoseok growled before he bit into the junction of Yoongi’s neck and shoulder. Yoongi felt Hoseok tense against him before warm coated his hand and small pinpricks of pain burned along his shoulders. 

The sounds of the night seemed amplified - the music from the club - now something poppy - the street traffic, the murmur and laughter of intoxicated people walking right by them, Hoseok’s ragged breathing and Yoongi’s own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Hoseok leaned away from him and Yoongi felt glaringly sober, almost overwhelmingly guilty as he stared into hooded brown eyes.

“What are we doing?” Yoongi whispered as he zipped up his pants, belatedly realizing that he had cum stains on his hoodie.

“I - I don’t know,” Hoseok whispered back, and for the first time, Yoongi didn’t feel warm where Hoseok touched him.



“Yoongi?”  Seokjin’s voice sounded too loud over the line and Yoongi winced.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, taking in the white stains on his hoodie and the purpling bite mark at the base of his throat in the train station bathroom. Hoseok had gotten on the train back to New Brunswick and Yoongi had foregone going home once he got a look at the state of himself.

“Why are you calling me?”

Yoongi gave a sad snort as he leaned against the tiled wall. “Don’t sound so enthused.”

“It’s not - I mean, Jesus, Yoongi, I haven’t spoken to you in months.”

“Yeah.” Yoongi rubbed his hands over his eyes, belatedly realizing that he was shaking. “Yeah, I know I’m sorry. I’ve been…busy.”

“I’m sure.” Seokjin’s voice sounded dry over the line, crackly. Yoongi heard the splash of something being poured, the distant sound of female vocals. “So what’s up?”

“Are you still in New York?”

There was a slight pause before Seokjin answered. “Yes.”

Yoongi could tell Seokjin knew what was coming next, but the silence stretched on. “Okay, can I stay over tonight?”

Seokjin’s laugh was dry and it sucked the last of Yoongi’s strength out of wobbly legs. He sunk to the dirty floor and rested his forehead on his knees.

“That’s it? I don’t hear from you for months and you call me for a favour? What, did Mina kick you out?”

“No. Not quite.”

“Not quite?” Seokjin’s voice got loud, a little pitchy. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means I can’t go home right now,” Yoongi snapped. There was another silence; the female vocals lowered in the background.

“What do you mean you can’t go home,” Seokjin said slowly, and when Yoongi blinked his eyes burned.

“I just - can I stay over?”

Yoongi’s voice cracked embarrassingly and Seokjin sighed over the line. “Yeah, come over.”

“Thanks. I’ll be there soon.”

The train to the Upper West Side felt like it took hours, Yoongi falling in and out of sleep in his seat as he passed station after station. He hadn’t been to Seokjin’s cushy apartment in months, but his feet took him there like it was only yesterday that he had buzzed into the luxurious high rise.

“Is that cum on your shirt?”

Yoongi resisted rolling his eyes as he stepped into the apartment and slipped out of his shoes. “Does it look like cum on my shirt?” he grumbled, glancing up into Seokjin’s handsome, if not worried, face. 

“It does,” Seokjin said flatly.

“Then that’s probably what it is.”

Seokjin gave a loud exaggerated sigh as he walked farther into the apartment. Seokjin lived in a high rise that overlooked the Hudson - a small one bedroom but one that was sleek, all white and black and chrome with floor to ceiling windows. Yoongi followed as far as the bedroom doorway, gave a mumbled thanks when Seokjin threw an oversized shirt at him.

Yoongi changed in the monochromatic bathroom, resisted the temptation to sniff at his hoodie, to lick at the remnants of Hoseok’s ejaculate on his clothing, to leave Seokjin’s apartment all together and take a train to New Brunswick and pretend that he wasn’t married. He didn’t. He slunk out of the bathroom with his hoodie wadded up, practically swimming in Seokjin’s t-shirt. He sat on the leather couch by Seokjin, wordlessly accepted the small glass of red wine that was passed to him.

“So,” Seokjin said after a moment, “I’m assuming that jizz wasn’t yours.”

Yoongi grinned tightly as he whirled the wine in his glass. “No. It wasn’t.”

“So, who’s was it?”

Yoongi glanced over, slightly surprised to see the worried furrow in Seokjin’s brow. “It’s…it’s complicated.”

Seokjin laughed, a short bark that made Yoongi want to curl up and disappear. “Everything in life is complicated Yoon. But you’re in my apartment with some guy’s jizz on you and hickeys on your neck - those seem like pretty straightforward answers to me.”

“He’s a guy I work with.”

Seokjin leaned farther into the couch and took a sip from his own glass. “Work with like…rap with?”

“He’s a teacher.” Yoongi leaned his head back against the edge of the couch. “Takes the same train as me.”

“Uh-huh.” Yoongi glanced over to catch the small smirk on Seokjin’s face and he felt his insides clench. “So how long have you two been fucking?”

Yoongi bristled. “We’re not fucking.”

Seokjin’s eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline. “Oh really. Then why were his cum stains on your shirt?”

“We didn’t fuck,” Yoongi said, but it sounded weak even to himself. “It was just…a blowjob. And a handjob.”

“Oh, well, as long as you’re not having penetrative sex.” Seokjin grabbed the still full glass from Yoongi and stalked into the kitchen.

“Seokjin -“

“Eight months Yoongi.” Seokjin tossed his dishes into the sink and began furiously scrubbing the glasses with a pink sponge. “I haven’t seen you for eight fucking months and now you’re here because you’re fucking around.”

Yoongi stood in the archway of the kitchen with his hands deep in his pockets. “Seokjin-“

“I didn’t fuck her, Yoon.”

Yoongi flinched. “I know.”

“We didn’t even kiss. Nothing happened.”

“I know, Seokjin. I was an idiot and I’m sorry.”

“Well,” Seokjin said, throwing the sponge down in the sink. “If you’re sorry.”

“Seokjin,” Yoongi said, eyes suddenly wet. His skin felt too tight and his head hurt and everything good he had felt earlier in the night melted away into guilt and self-hatred. 

“Yoon, fuck Yoon don’t cry.” Yoongi felt strong arms wrap around his shoulders and he buried his nose in Seokjin’s chest as he cried, much like he used to do when they were in undergrad together.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Yoongi pulled away with a loud sniffle and rubbed his eyes. “I’m a mess, and I’m sorry. I know it wasn’t you we just - we were fighting and now-“

Seokjin shushed him and pulled him back in, and Yoongi allowed himself to be held as Seokjin rocked him back and forth. Seokjin was good at a lot of things, but one thing he was excellent at was his mom-like way of comforting. 

“Want to climb in bed and tell me about the guy who jizzed on your shirt?”

Yoongi nodded and allowed himself to be led into the tiny bedroom. He laid on the memory foam mattress and interlaced his fingers with Seokjin when the man laid beside him. Yoongi gave a disbelieving chuckle and Seokjin raised his eyebrows with a wry grin.


Yoongi shrugged. “Nothing. I just…didn’t expect to be thirty-six crashing at my best friend’s apartment because I got sucked off by a guy in an alley.”

“Best friend?”

Yoongi cleared his throat. “I mean…yeah? I may not be it for you but you’re still my best friend, Jin.” Seokjin didn’t say anything and Yoongi resisted groaning. “Also that’s what you got from what I said?

Seokjin gave a low whistle. “Okay, chill. So…you cut me out of your life for spending time with your wife but then come over when you actually cheat on her?”

Yoongi averted his gaze. “I - I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“What are you doing Yoongi? Do you love him or something?”

“Yeah. I do.”

Seokjin’s eyes widened and Yoongi felt the mans fingers squeeze his hand. “Well, shit.”

“Yeah. Shit.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Yoongi sighed. “If I leave my wife will you marry her?”

“Yoongi,” and Seokjin’s voice was dark, laced with warning that Yoongi was riding a fine line. “I never wanted anything with your wife.”

“I know, I know. Let’s just…not talk about it, okay? How’s the restaurant doing?”

Seokjin sighed, but he shrugged and Yoongi didn’t miss the small quirk of his lips. “Well, I’m still living here, so it’s doing pretty well. I’m forty and single, but the restaurant is fine. How are you?”

“I’m in love with a teacher from Princeton and just cheated on my wife, that’s how I’m doing.”

"Does he know you have kids?”

The oddness of his answer didn’t occur to Yoongi until after he had started talking. “Yeah, he gets along great with them.”

Seokjin propped himself up on one elbow, dark hair sweeping messily into his eyes. “He’s met your kids?”


“Yoongi that’s -“

“Fucked up? Yeah, I know. Thanks Seokjin.”

“No.” Seokjin laid back down and pulled Yoongi slightly closer. “I was going to say that’s serious. You need to realize how serious that is.”

“I’m aware,” Yoongi snapped, resisting the urge to pull away.

“I don’t think you are.” Yoongi opened his mouth to argue but snapped it shut at the harsh look Seokjin gave him. “Look Yoongi, I know you and Mina weren’t - aren’t - doing well, but you’re not a cheater. This is something.”

“I want him, Seokjin,” Yoongi whispered. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t know, kid.” Seokjin squeezed his hand. “You gotta figure that out on your own.”

Yoongi nodded and bit his lip when Seokjin’s nose brushed his. “You can stay here tonight,” Seokjin said softly. “But we’re still not cool, Yoon. And you need to figure your shit out.

“I know,” Yoongi mumbled. “Thank you.”



Yoongi’s phone rang in the middle of him spooning shrimp porridge into plastic bowls for Taehyung and Jeongguk. He glanced at Hoseok’s name on the screen and ignored it, continued scooping the porridge into ‘big kid bowls’ for him and his wife.

“Daddy, your phone!” Taehyung shouted, and Jeongguk backed him by shouting ‘phone! phone!' at the top of his lungs. 

“Who is it?” Mina asked as she took the bowls from Yoongi’s hands and placed them on the table.

“No one. It’s a work thing.”

Mina raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. “Then answer it.”

“We’re about to eat.”

“We’ll survive without you. Answer your phone.”

Yoongi pretended the statement didn’t hurt, didn’t grab and twist him some place so deep he almost felt like collapsing. He forced a smile and grabbed his phone off of the counter, pressed the answer button before it could go to voicemail.

“Hey,” Yoongi said, waving at his kids before stepping down the hallway into the living room.

“Oh wow, you picked up.” Hoseok sounded genuinely surprised, his voice a mixture of his normal bubbly personality and tired resignedness. “I thought you were going to keep ignoring me.”

“I was,” Yoongi said bluntly. He stared out his window, at the steadily falling snow and the twinkling lights from the Christmas strands and passing cars.

“Why didn’t you?” Hoseok’s voice sounded hopeful and it made Yoongi feel sick.

“Because my ringtone is annoying.”

Hoseok’s laugh was still big, although not as bright as it normally was. It was short, almost hesitant, and Yoongi’s heart fluttered in his chest.

“Happy Christmas,” Hoseok said after an uncomfortable silence had stretched.

“Yeah. You too. Still home alone?”

Hoseok chuckled. “Yep. Just me, all by myself.”

Yoongi’s chest clenched. “That sucks.”

“Tell me about it.” A silence stretched before Hoseok cleared his throat. “Want to come over?”

Yoongi swallowed past the lump of bile rising in his throat. “Is that why you called?”

“Pretty much.”

“Hoseok…I can’t.”

“I won’t do anything, I promise. I just…it’s tough being alone. On Christmas, you know? I just… I mean you don’t have to. I’d just appreciate it.”

Yoongi sighed, massaged his eyes with the tips of his fingers. He glanced around the mess in the living room - the leftover carnage from presents that morning. He shouldn’t even consider going to New Brunswick, he knew that, but he was so weak. So, so very weak.

“Let me…look I’ll talk to the family, okay?”

“You’re going to ask your wife if you can see me?” 

Yoongi gave a dry chuckle. “It’s Christmas, Hoseok. Yeah, I’m gonna ask permission.”

“Cool, okay. Sure. Let me know how that goes.”

“Hoseok -“

“Text me what she says. Then I can pull out the sleeping bags. Maybe we can paint our nails.”

“Okay, chill out please.”

The line went quiet except for Hoseok’s slightly uneven breathing, hard and panting like he had just run a marathon.

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok finally said, and Yoongi sighed.

“It’s okay. I’ll try alright?”

“Yeah. Thank you Yoongi.”

Yoongi hung up and let his head fall against his knees. He breathed in the smell of Tide detergent and some off-brand fabric softener that was so floral it made his nose burn. He didn’t know what was going on with his brain, what was causing him to feel like a love-struck teenager instead of a middle-aged man. He sighed and stood, shoved his phone deep into his back pocket, and walked back into the kitchen to the mess of porridge on sticky hands and matted hair.

“I guess it was really good,” he said with a small chuckle.

“Good enough to wear,” Mina said with a tight smile, already dirty napkin in her hand attacking Taehyung’s face. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just…it’s another professor. He’s alone for the holidays. Wanted company - do work stuff. Get his mind of being alone, you know?”

Mina raised her eyebrow as Yoongi sat, and Yoongi ignored her in favour of spooning porridge into Jeongguk’s open mouth.

“He knows you have a family, right?”

Yoongi sighed. “Yeah. It’s just tough I guess, being alone.”

Mina gave a small snort. “Tae, open your mouth, that’s a good boy. Is he depressed or something?”

The abrupt change caught Yoongi off-guard, made him accidentally crash his spoon airplane in the side of Jeongguk’s mouth instead of in it.

“Daddy’s a bad dwiver!” Taehyung announced as Jeongguk smeared the porridge all over his face.

“What? I don’t know,” Yoongi said at the same time, trying to minimize the mess by wiping Jeongguk’s face with a hand towel.

“Well,” Mina said lightly around a small bite of her own porridge. “Might as well go.”

Yoongi’s spoon-plane paused mid-air. “What?”

Mina looked up at him with a tired expression. “What what?”

“It’s Christmas.” Jeongguk leaned forward and slurped the porridge off of the spoon, but Yoongi was too distracted to notice. Mina shrugged, scraped the last of the porridge in Taehyung’s bowl and scooped it into his mouth with practiced ease.

“Yeah, and after we bathe the kids and lay them down what are we going to do?  I’m going to have a nice bath and catch up on my reading and you’re going to lock yourself in the closet to tinker around with work stuff so just bring it over to this guy’s house. You’re hitting two birds with one stone. And he deserves a Christmas too.”

Yoongi felt his insides turn cold. Mina’s blunt, easy-going, ‘I can take care of myself’ nature was what had initially attracted him to her. The fact that he could be gone for days at a time composing, going on tours, getting caught up with work and then coming home to her immersed in her own projects made them click. But after they had kids Yoongi kept getting the feeling that he was unneeded. He was a helpful extra pair of hands, a nice addition to their income, but other than that…what was he?

“Yeah…” he mumbled. “Sure, that’s great. I’ll do that.”

Taehyung and Jeongguk were unusually quiet as Yoongi bathed them - he actually made it out of the bathroom still dry. They picked out their pyjamas with no fuss, crawled into their shared toddler bed like they wanted nothing more than to actually follow their bedtime.

Children know, Yoongi’s mother’s voice echoed in his mind. Children know when something is wrong.

“I love you both very much,” Yoongi whispered before kissing Taehyung and Jeongguk on their fat cheeks. “Sleep tight, bun. Sleep tight, Taetae.”

“Love you too daddy,” Taehyung murmured, but Jeongguk only nodded and Yoongi felt like his world was falling apart.

“How about we do something in the morning? Maybe French toast? Pancakes?”

“Pancakes!” Jeongguk nearly screeched, and Yoongi chucked.

“Okay. Pancakes for breakfast. And you can help me cook.”

The excited whispered chatter that followed him as he closed their bedroom door was more like what he was used to when he put his kids to bed, and it settled some of the unease in his chest. He grabbed his satchel from the living room, paused in the kitchen doorway where Mina was wiping down the table with a damp cloth.

“Kids are in bed.”

“Good. Thank you.” She looked up from the table, long brown hair falling out of it’s loose bun. She wore a green sweater and black pants - still so beautiful, regal, completely out of his league. “Are you coming back home?”

Yoongi sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s in New Brunswick. I’ll see how the trains are doing.”

“That far?” Mina tossed the cloth into the sink and walked over to him, adjusting his chunky knit scarf. “Just stay. You’ll probably fall asleep on the train and end up in Connecticut.”

Yoongi laughed, a small dry chuckle. “Thank you for having so much faith in me.”

Mina’s thin lips quirked up in a small smile. “Faith’s got nothing to do with it. I know you.”

“Yeah.” He leaned forward, kissed the top of her forehead. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

“I heard some screaming about pancakes, so you better. You know I don’t cook that stuff.”

When she kissed him, it was chaste and rough, a barely there brush of lips, and then she was gone - down the hallway into the bedroom, humming as she dug around for her pyjamas. 



“Oh,” Hoseok said as he opened his door. “You came.”

Yoongi snorted and rolled his eyes. “You didn’t put that together when I asked for your address?”

Hoseok shrugged and opened his door wider into the warm apartment. It was big - bigger than Yoongi’s, and decorated with an assorted collection of art prints and throw pillows and area rugs and bear figurines. It looked lived in, homey - a bit cluttered, but still. 

“You could have asked for my address and then changed your mind.”

Yoongi toed off his damp sneakers, groaning at the feeling of his wet socks and pant legs. The snow started coming down halfway through his train ride and he’d had to wade through ankle deep snow to get to Hoseok’s apartment building.

“Want pyjamas? I’ve got extra.”

Yoongi raised his eyebrow at the bright red and green striped flannel monstrosity Hoseok was wearing, complete with embroidered snowmen on the chest.

“Depends. You got anything as hideous as that?”

Hoseok gasped and pressed his hand to his chest. “It’s not hideous. I’ll have you know I’m very handsome in these.”

Yoongi bit his lip, let his eyes trail up and down Hoseok’s lean body, but didn’t reply.

“I have holiday pj’s and old sweats. Take your pick.”

“You decide. I just don’t want to be wet.”

A mischievous grin spread over Hoseok’s face before he sauntered down the long hallway into what Yoongi assumed had to be a bedroom. He emerged a moment later holding footie pyjamas with cow print and a hood.

“Are you serious?” Yoongi asked, unable to help his small chuckle.

“You said I could decide.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes and held out his hand for the pyjamas. “Alright. You got a bathroom?”

“No,” Hoseok said, completely deadpan. “You’ll have to change out here.”

Yoongi felt his cheeks heat. “Hoseok,” he said, warning clear in his tone, and the wide smile on Hoseok’s face faltered.

“Down the hall on the right,” Hoseok said. “And I have eggnog. If you want some.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi said, suddenly feeling awkward. “Yeah, that’s great.”

He changed quickly in the bathroom, posters and prints of 1930’s femme fatales watching his every move as he slipped into the pyjamas (which were quite warm and comfortable) and hung his damp clothes over the shower. He joined Hoseok in the living room on the couch, blushing at the warm smile on Hoseok’s face as he passed over a hot mug of eggnog.

“Those are cute on you.”

Yoongi blushed harder. “Thanks.”

“So,” Hoseok murmured after an awkward silence filled with furtive glances and blushing cheeks. “Your wife gave you permission to come?”

Yoongi sighed and leaned back into the sofa. “Yeah. She did.”

“That’s odd.” Yoongi rolled his eyes to the side and Hoseok shook his head. “No, I just mean…it seems…are you guys okay?”

Yoongi gave a wry smile. “Hoseok, if we were okay I wouldn’t be here.”

“Right.” Hoseok leaned further away from Yoongi against the armrest of the couch and Yoongi felt suddenly cold.

“Why are you alone anyway,” Yoongi said quickly. “Your mom is in the city.”

“My sister flew her out to spend the holidays with her family in Wisconsin. And then Susan decided to be with her parents. So…just me.”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi said quietly. 

Hoseok shrugged, but Yoongi could tell that he was bothered by the red tips of his ears and small triangle of his mouth. “It’s okay,” Hoseok said after a moment. “I’ve got you.”

When Hoseok kissed him Yoongi felt like his whole body was on fire. Hoseok’s body completely covered his as he fell farther back against the couch, Hoseok’s mouth warm and wet on his, Hoseok’s hands gentle against his cheek, his jaw, his hips. Yoongi gasped as Hoseok licked into his mouth, slow and sensual, less desperate than the last time they kissed - like they had all the time in the world.

“Hoseok,” Yoongi panted as Hoseok kissed his way down Yoongi’s neck. “Hoseok you said - you wouldn’t do anything.”

Hoseok raised himself up, his mouth swollen and red, and Yoongi wanted. His eyes were wide and his cheeks flushed and he looked so guilty. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I know I just -“

Yoongi gripped Hoseok’s hair and pulled him down until their mouths mashed together. He twisted his fingers in soft brown locks and tugged, relishing the low whine that poured from Hoseok’s mouth into his own. He kissed hard and wet and messy, gripped at fabric and skin and hair. When Hoseok ground down against him Yoongi felt like all the breath rushed out of his body as he arched his back and groaned.

“Yoongi,” Hoseok whispered in between Yoongi nipping at his lips. “Yoongi, Yoongi we shouldn’t.”

Yoongi froze, mouth open and eyes wide. Hoseok gave a small, sad smile and rubbed his nose against the tip of Yoongi’s. 

“You’re right. I don’t want you do regret this Yoongi. We shouldn’t.”

Yoongi held in the what the fuck that threatened to burst out of him. He didn’t give a fuck what they should or shouldn’t do anymore; all he knew was that he was hard and Hoseok was so beautiful and he wanted to be fucked, wanted to be held down and filled and fucked raw and then cuddled into the next morning.

“Yoongi, baby. I said I wouldn’t do anything and I broke that. Let’s not fuck up anymore tonight, okay?”

Yoongi nodded dumbly, his throat dry. He felt a prickle behind his eyelids and was thankful when Hoseok sat up because he could turn his face away and rub roughly at his eyes.


“I’m fine,” Yoongi croaked. He sat up and forced a tight smile. “I’m fine.”

Hoseok returned the smile with a small one of his own as he hooked his hand around the back of Yoongi’s neck and pressed their foreheads together. “Yoongi, I would love to dry hump you on my couch like we’re teenagers, but I promised I wouldn’t and I want you to still talk to me after this.”

Yoongi chuckled, felt tears trickle down his cheeks. Hoseok brushed them away with a calloused thumb and pressed a small kiss to Yoongi’s cheekbone.

“Want to cuddle and watch bad Hallmark movies?”

Yoongi looked up with a small smile. “Always.”



“Jimin and I are doing a New Year’s Eve party,” Namjoon said over the top of his mug. 

Yoongi groaned around his mouthful of coffee and Namjoon rolled his eyes.

“Come on Yoongi, you didn’t come to the one we threw last year, and we planned that for you.”

“You did not.”

“Yes we did.” Namjoon set his mug down against the table too hard and his latte sloshed over the side and onto his sleeve. He gave it a side glance before looking back at Yoongi; Namjoon was used to little disasters following him everywhere. “We had our New Year’s party on the 10th because it was two days after you moved.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” Yoongi grumbled and Namjoon kicked him lightly under the table.

“No, but you’re coming to this one. C’mon, we’ve got a sitter for the kids. It’s just us and other faculty, plus some people Jimin dances with. Pheobe, Kevin, Hoseok, Minho -“

“Ho-Hoseok is going?”

Namjoon grinned, his dimples appearing deep in the hollows of his cheeks. “Yeah, he and Susan come every year.”

Yoongi felt his stomach drop, felt the deep urge to vomit all over the table. He couldn’t. He couldn’t meet Hoseok’s wife at Namjoon and Jimin’s party - he couldn’t.

“You guys have gotten pretty close right? Have you met Susan?”

“What? Yeah, uh, no. No, I haven’t met her.”

Namjoon’s face fell, his eyebrows knit together and he leaned so close into Yoongi’s space that he could smell the slightly spiced floral of his cologne. “Yoongi are you okay? You’re a bit grey.”

“Fine,” Yoongi lied. “Actually, I think I’m coming down with something.” He stood too abruptly, the world spinning disconcertingly as black spots pulsed in his vision. He gripped the edge of the table and felt firm hands on his back.

“Yoongi, hey man let me take you home.”

Yoongi blinked away the spots in his vision and shook his head. “I’m fine Joon. Probably the flu or something.”


“I’m fine.

Namjoon’s face fell, hurt and worry clear on his features, and Yoongi had the thought that if he didn’t get out of the cafe at that moment he would vomit all over Namjoon’s blue suede Vans.

“I’m fine,” he repeated around a mouthful of spit. He grabbed his bag and threw some cash down on the table. “I’ll think about the party.”



Jung Hoseok [15:46]: I hear you’re sick?

Min Yoongi [15:48]: Yeah. Flu or something.

Jung Hoseok [15:49]: Sucks

Jung Hoseok [15:50]: You need anything?

Min Yoongi [15:53]: What? are you going to come over

Jung Hoseok [15:54]: If you want

Min Yoongi [15:54]: No I do not want

Min Yoongi [15:55]: What the fuck?

Jung Hoseok [15:57]: Okay sorry bad idea

Min Yoongi [15:58]: Yeah bad fucking idea

Min Yoongi [15:59]: How would you explain that to my wife

Jung Hoseok [16:00]: I’m a friend from work checking up on you

Min Yoongi [16:03]: I don’t want you meeting my wife

Jung Hoseok [16:04]: ok I wont come over

Min Yoongi [16:10]: and I dont wanna meet your wife

Jung Hoseok [16:11]: ok

Min Yoongi [16:14]: Ever

Jung Hoseok [16:15]: I get it

Jung Hoseok [16:16]: Don’t come to new years then

Min Yoongi [16:20]: I don’t plan on it

Jung Hoseok [16:32]: Good

Jung Hoseok [16:33]: Get well soon

Jung Hoseok [16:58]: I miss you


“Mina, I don’t think this is a good idea,” Yoongi grumbled as his wife dragged him along the suburban streets to Jimin and Namjoon’s house. His wife threw him an exasperated look. Her black wool coat was buttoned up all the way to her neck and her bun was immaculate on the top of her head, held together with shimmering diamond studded pins. She was beautiful, still so beautiful.

“Stop being sour puss,” she said, clutching tighter at his arm. “I know you don’t like parties, but we haven’t done anything like this since we moved.”

“For good reason.”

Mina stopped abruptly, swung around in front of him and pressed her rogue coloured lips against his chapped ones. “Come on,” she whispered, breath hot against his mouth. “We’ll make an appearance and then go, okay?”

Yoongi blinked rapidly.  He couldn’t remember the last time he had kissed his wife; the last time they had done anything remotely physical, and it ignited something deep in his gut. He captured her lips again, licked against the seam and groaned when they parted enough for him to brush his tongue against hers. His fingers gripped the thick fabric of her coat as he pulled her closer; her fingers tangled in his hair and Yoongi had half a mind to drag her home and throw her down on their bed and make love to her like he had when they were younger. When they tried for Taehyung and then Jeongguk. Maybe they could have another kid.

Mina pulled away, rubbed her thumb along his lips. “Got lipstick on you, silly,” she murmured, and Yoongi grinned.

“Can we just go home,” he whispered, swaying Mina’s hips against his. She laughed, a small tinkle of a fairy laugh.

“What’s gotten into you?” she whispered, and he shrugged. “Come on, we’re already here.”

Yoongi groaned and allowed himself to be pulled up the stairs of the brick house.

“Yoongi! Mina!” Jimin’s high pitched shout rang in Yoongi’s ears, but he smiled and returned the hug given. Fatherhood looked good on Jimin. His cheeks were a bit fuller but they were pink and he looked happy and confident in a way Yoongi hadn’t seen in a long time. HIs wavy hair was dyed pink and it made him look like a tiny cherub.

Yoongi declined the drinks that were offered and stepped carefully through the rooms of other professors and their wives.

“Dahyun and Bitna are almost ten now, can you believe it? Dahyun wanted her hair pink, which - well, that’s why I’ve got this.” 

Mina laughed, low and lilting. “The boys are full blown toddlers now. It’s insanity all the time.”

“Oh!” Jimin shouted, and Yoongi froze at the sight of Hoseok with a pretty woman on his arm. “Yoongi, you know Hoseok right?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi said around the sudden dryness in his throat. Hoseok smiled, but he looked like he was in physical pain. “Uh, Mina, Hoseok and Susan? I believe?”

Susan gave a tight smile and nodded. She had round eyes and dark skin, gold jewelry standing out on her slender neck and diamonds studding her small earlobes. She held Hoseok’s arm, but lightly - a large gap in between them even with their connected arms. Yoongi wondered if he and Mina looked the same way.

“I’m going to grab a beer,” Hoseok said suddenly. “Yoongi you want one?”

“Yes,” Yoongi said, maybe a bit too quickly from the look Mina gave him. He raised an eyebrow at her and she pursed her lips.

“Sure,” she said flatly. “I’d love one.”

Yoongi followed Hoseok through the small crowd of intellectuals into the fresh-out-of-Ikea kitchen. He took the beer Hoseok offered him and clinked the bottom of the bottle before toasting and downing a third of it.

“Joon said you were sick,” Hoseok said and Yoongi shrugged.

“Mina wanted to come.”

“Of course she did.”

“Hoseok,” Yoongi murmured, and Hoseok snapped his head up, eyes red and hair wavy and mouth in a tight line. He gave a half smile and Yoongi sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” Hoseok leaned against the green and white tile counter and ran his hand through his hair. “You shouldn’t be sorry. I’m being an ass.”

“I mean,” Yoongi leaned against the island counter across from him. “Kind of.”

Hoseok gave a dry chuckle. “It just caught me off guard. Didn’t expect to see you. See…Mina.”

The sound of his wife’s name off of Hoseok’s lips made him feel sick, and judging by the grimace on Hoseok’s face that he tried to hide with another swig of his beer the younger man felt the same way.

“I know,” Yoongi said. “It’s…I know.”

“What are we doing Yoongi?” 

Yoongi stared at the amber bottle in his hand, swirled the dark liquid. “I don’t know, Hoseok.”

Hoseok pushed himself off of the counter and stood in front of Yoongi. Yoongi glanced up into determined eyes, almost jumped as rough fingers trailed down his jaw before tilting up his chin. Hoseok’s lips brushed against his, soft, warm, sweet. Yoongi could taste the beer on Hoseok’s breath as Hoseok’s lips moved slowly against his, trapping his upper lip between both of Hoseok’s heart-shaped ones. When Hoseok pulled away, Yoongi felt like a part of him went with him.

“What are you doing?” Yoongi hissed, belatedly realizing where they were beside the open walkway into the kitchen. 

“I don’t know,” Hoseok said, his voice gruff, his eyes focused on the living room of people. “I don’t know anymore.”



Yoongi glanced up briefly as Hoseok pulled out the iron chair across from him. He nodded his head in thanks as the cup of coffee was set down in front of him, chewing on his pen as he tried to decipher the crossword in front of him.

“How’s your new class,” Hoseok asked after a moment and Yoongi shrugged. Hoseok sighed across from him and Yoongi glanced up into tired eyes.

“Yoongi, if you want me to back off -“

“I don’t -“ Yoongi sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t want you to back off. I’m sorry. Classes are fine. New students. Ignorant bunch. Pain in the ass.”

Hoseok gave a small smile and nudged Yoongi’s shin with the toe of his sneakers. “I’m sorry. My kids are pretty great.”

Yoongi laughed, one of the deeper more genuine laughs he’d had in a while. “That’s great. I’m glad.”

Hoseok chuckled along with him before quieting down and taking small sips of his tea. “I uh, I have tickets to MOMA.”

Yoongi raised his eyebrows around the lid of his coffee cup. “Do you now?”

“I do.” Hoseok grinned, wide and beautiful. “Want to come with me?”

“Don’t you,” Yoongi began, and then cut himself off. He had been torturing himself with images of Hoseok and his wife for weeks after the party, and he felt snappish and angry. “Nothing. Yeah. I’ll go.”

Hoseok raised his eyebrow, ran his fingers over Yoongi’s wrist. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” Yoongi leaned over the table, blushing when Hoseok caught on and leaned forward as well. “Yeah I want to go.”

“Good.” Yoongi caught the flash of a smile before lips brushed his, and for the first time Yoongi didn’t give two shits if anyone saw them.



Yoongi was doubled over in laughter, probably garnering angry looks from actual art appreciators mulling around the museum. He held the polaroid out for Hoseok to take, laughter hurting his stomach. Hoseok took the print out and shook it, laughing as well, big and squeaky.

“You’re ridiculous,” Yoongi gasped out in between giggles. 

Hoseok grinned as he looked at the photo. “I don’t know. I think we look exactly the same.” He held up the photo of him mimicking the statue in the courtyard and Yoongi laughed harder.

“Yeah,” Yoongi finally managed to get out. “Yeah, exactly the same.”

Hoseok wrapped his arm around Yoongi’s shoulders and steered him back inside the building to finish their tour of artworks. Most of it Yoongi didn’t ‘get’; he liked looking at the paintings and sculptures, but he made fun of them mostly, whispering into Hoseok’s ear random interpretations of what he saw or what he thought the painter was thinking until Hoseok got the hiccups. Yoongi shut up then, except for when Hoseok glared at him every time he got the hiccups and Yoongi giggled helplessly. 

“You’re the worst,” Hoseok whispered right against his ear after he chugged as much as he could from the standing fountain.

“I know,” Yoongi murmured, trying his best to hide the shiver that ran down his spine. “I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not.” Hoseok stepped away from him but his smile was wide. 

“You’re right,” Yoongi said, darting his eyes around the empty hallway leading to the bathroom. “I’m not.”

The kiss was quick, light, but Hoseok’s eyes were dark and heavy lidded when Yoongi pulled away and it made his stomach flutter.

“Come home with me,” Hoseok whispered, his breath hot and heady.

“Hoseok,” Yoongi murmured, but Hoseok’s hands gripped his forearms.

“My mother’s traveling out of town with my sister. There’s no one there.”

It was too risky, what Hoseok was suggesting, too much. Yoongi knew he should say no, knew he shouldn’t fuck around with this man in his mother’s house but…

But Hoseok’s hands were large and warm against his arms, is mouth plush and inviting, his eyes hungry, his pants oh so tight.

“Okay,” Yoongi whispered, whimpering when Hoseok’s mouth attacked his, hard and fast and messy.

“Yeah?” Hoseok asked, eyes wide.




They touched the entire train ride to Hoseok’s mother’s brownstone. They held hands as they walked down the street, laughing and bumping shoulders, intertwining their fingers. As soon as they stepped over the darkened threshold of the brownstone the mood shifted. Hoseok pressed Yoongi against the hallway wall, sucked his tongue roughly into his mouth until Yoongi whined.

“God Yoongi,” Hoseok panted as he unzipped Yoongi’s coat and dumped it on the ground. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

“Shut up,” Yoongi growled, blush staining high on his cheekbones. 

Hoseok smiled. He ran his hands down Yoongi’s arms until he clasped both of his hands and could drag him upstairs, pausing every so often to press Yoongi against the stair rail and kiss him - his lips, down his neck, over his exposed collarbones. Yoongi let himself be led, let his head fall back when Hoseok kissed him, let the low groans reverberate in his throat. 

Hoseok led him into a small tidy room with a clearly unused bed, and Yoongi let out a sigh of relief. Hoseok looked at him with a smirk.

“Did you really think I was going to fuck you on my mother’s bed?”

Yoongi blushed. “Who said anything about fucking?”

Hoseok shrugged, ran his fingers over Yoongi’s earlobe before trailing down his neck. “I can suck you off. I don’t care.”

Yoongi gasped as Hoseok’s hands scraped over his chest, fingernails catching on his already pert nipples. “I-“ Yoongi stuttered out, distracted by Hoseok’s tongue tracing over his jugular. “I actually…”

Hoseok leaned back and quirked an eyebrow, Yoongi very much aware of long fingers playing with the button of his jeans.


“I uhm, I cleaned up before I came,” Yoongi muttered, not missing the way Hoseok’s breath hitched.

“That’s a little presumptuous of you,” Hoseok breathed, and Yoongi shrugged, keeping his gaze down. 

“More like…wishful thinking?”

Hoseok didn’t say anything; he gripped Yoongi’s hips tightly and steered him backwards until the backs of Yoongi’s knees hit the bed and he fell onto the mattress. Hoseok straddled him, knees on opposite sides of his stomach and hands pinning Yoongi’s arms above his head as he ran his lips over Yoongi’s neck.

“Hoseok,” Yoongi whined, and when Hoseok looked at him his eyes were dark pools. “Kiss me please.”

Hoseok’s lips brushed Yoongi’s gently, his tongue licked into Yoongi’s mouth with a sensual care that left Yoongi reeling. Yoongi pressed his tongue against Hoseok’s, groaning as they slid together, hot and wet.

“Fuck,” Hoseok breathed against his mouth. “Yoongi I want you.”

“I know,” Yoongi whispered back, nipping at Hoseok’s bottom lip. “I want you too.”

Hoseok sat up, rolled his hips over Yoongi’s, and Yoongi arched his back and groaned at the pressure against his growing erection. 

“I’ve dreamed about this, you know?” Hoseok still whispered, like he was afraid that if he spoke out loud the spell they had would break. “How you would look. What you like.” He rolled his hips again and Yoongi bit his lip. “How you would feel.”

“God Hoseok,” Yoongi whimpered, already so hard from just a little bit of rutting like he was a teenager instead of a thirty-six year old man.

“Take off your sweater,” Hoseok said lowly, and Yoongi arched his back more.

“How about you take it off for me.”

Yoongi’s body was not what it was. He used to do sports, played basketball regularly. What little muscle he had had faded away into a purely scrawny build - enough muscle for him to chase after his kids and nothing extra. He had always been self-conscious about his body, had only gotten more so over the years since his kids were born. But the look of pure adoration Hoseok gave at Yoongi’s thin chest and pale skin made Yoongi feel sexy in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. Hoseok’s mouth immediately latched onto one of his nipples and Yoongi groaned long and loud. He had always been incredibly sensitive, and his nipples were areas that his wife had avoided whenever they had sex.

He tangled his fingers in Hoseok’s hair and whined and moaned and writhed as Hoseok licked and sucked and bit at his nipples, relentless, torturous. 

“Hoseok,” Yoongi moaned as Hoseok sucked a bruising mark into the center of his chest. Hoseok glanced up at him before he stuck out his tongue and trailed down Yoongi’s chest, leaving a cold wet trail all the way to Yoongi’s waistband.

“What do you like,” Hoseok murmured right against Yoongi’s crotch, and Yoongi wanted to cry. “What do you want?”

“I want you in me,” Yoongi blurted before he could censor himself, and he felt his entire body heat with an embarrassed flush. Hoseok looked up at him with wide eyes, his breath puffing over the sensitive skin of Yoongi’s low belly.

“Fuck me,” Hoseok muttered, pushing himself off of the bed and undoing his jeans with such enthusiasm that Yoongi giggled. Hoseok gave a small smile as he slipped down his pants and Yoongi nearly choked at the sight of the bulge of Hoseok’s erection straining against his black briefs.

“Strip,” Hoseok instructed as he dug in the side table drawer and emerged with a foil packet and a small bottle.

Yoongi snorted as he slipped out of his jeans. “And you said I was presumptuous.”

Hoseok shrugged and tossed the lube and condoms onto the bed before slipping out of his briefs. Yoongi’s mouth watered at the sight of Hoseok’s cock, thick and flushed against his stomach. He darted his tongue against his lips and resisted the urge to get on his knees and beg Hoseok to fuck his mouth.

Hoseok laid on the bed beside Yoongi, and Yoongi allowed himself to be rolled onto his side and groaned when Hoseok pressed on his lower back until their cocks rubbed together.

“Fuck Hoseok,” Yoongi gasped, tossing his leg over Hoseok’s hip and digging his fingers into the defined muscles of the man’s biceps. “How are you so fucking hot?”

Hoseok gave a breathless chuckle. “I could say the same for you.”

Yoongi snorted and tried to avert his gaze, but Hoseok caught his lips in a messy wet kiss. 

“Don’t want to hear it,” Hoseok growled, pressing Yoongi closer. “I’ve been getting off to you for ages.”

“I’m old,” Yoongi said, then yelped when Hoseok nipped at the skin under his jaw.

I’m old,” Hoseok grinned, and Yoongi gave a startled laugh-groan as he was rolled onto his back and Hoseok wrapped a hand around both of their lengths.

“Seok, I could come like this.”

“Me too,” Hoseok gasped, and Yoongi clenched his muscles against the building pressure in his groin.

“I don’t want to. Want you to fuck me.” Hoseok groaned into Yoongi’s shoulder and Yoongi jumped at the tightness of Hoseok’s fist. “Hoseok, please.”

Hoseok pressed himself off of Yoongi until he was leaning in between Yoongi’s legs. “How do you want to do this?”

Yoongi gripped his knees and pulled them up to his chest, all embarrassment of his total exposure going out the window at the deep look of want on Hoseok’s face, at the way Hoseok took a steadying breath, the way he bit at his bottom lip. Hoseok pressed the tip of his thumb against Yoongi’s hole and Yoongi groaned at the sudden flare of heat in his belly, at the intimacy of being touched in a place he hadn’t been since he was twenty-one.

Yoongi missed the pop of the lube cap, jumped at the feeling of cool slick pressing against his entrance. Hoseok fingered him with a reverential concentration, twisting his finger in  slowly one knuckle at a time while Yoongi groaned and whined and panted.

“So beautiful,” Hoseok whispered over the squelch of the lube as he fingered Yoongi slowly with his index finger. “Fuck Yoongi, I…I love you so much.”

Yoongi groaned and spread his legs wider. “Hoseok, more. Please.”

Hoseok nodded quickly before he leaned forward, and Yoongi nearly sobbed at the feeling of Hoseok’s tongue laving around his finger. Hoseok pressed his tongue insistently alongside his finger, pressing and licking and sucking around Yoongi’s rim until Yoongi’s legs were shaking and he was gasping for breath. Hoseok stopped with a lewd slurp before he pressed a second finger inside of Yoongi, swift and hard. Yoongi arched and groaned, his fingers clenching around his kneecaps. 

The room filled with the sounds of squelching lube and deep groans and tight gasps as Hoseok worked another finger into Yoongi. Yoongi bit his lip against the burn, whined helplessly when Hoseok sucked and bit at his perineum and around his balls. He opened his mouth, ready to say something, ask for more, but a choked noise came out instead as Hoseok’s finger brushed something inside of him that set of sparks in his low belly.

“Seok-seok, fuck me now,” Yoongi gasped out.

“You sure?” There was lube and spit on Hoseok’s chin and it was so very messy and erotic. 

“I’m sure.” Hoseok pumped his fingers a few more times and Yoongi keened. “Please. Please I need you, fuck, please.”

“Shit,” Hoseok cursed under his breath. His fingers slid out of Yoongi with a squelch and an embarrassing pop, but Yoongi didn’t have time to feel self-conscious because his whole focus was on Hoseok sliding on the condom and slicking himself up, on the way the tip of Hoseok’s dick disappeared in and out of his fist as he jerked himself a few times.

“Want it like this? Not on your knees?”

Yoongi shook his head and pulled his knees up farther towards his shoulders. Hoseok hovered over him, one hand beside Yoongi’s ear and the other holding himself as he teased the head of his cock around Yoongi’s rim.

“Hoseok,” Yoongi whimpered, then choked on a sob as Hoseok kissed him and pressed into him, the low burn and quick tongue overloading his senses. He felt like he was nineteen, not nearly forty, and he released his knees in favour of wrapping his arms around Hoseok’s neck. 

Hoseok paused when he was fully buried inside of Yoongi, the only movement being his hips rotating in a slow grind as Yoongi got used to the feeling of being stretched. Hoseok removed one of Yoongi’s arms from around his neck and interlaced their fingers,  small smile on his flushed face. 

“I love you,” Yoongi said, but no sound came out. Hoseok kissed him, slow and deep, as he pulled out and pushed back in. Yoongi gripped Hoseok’s fingers, the burn a bit more than the pleasure. He focused on Hoseok’s tongue licking into his mouth, sliding against his own, focused on Hoseok’s long fingers gripping his own, focused on the roll of Hoseok’s hips and the brush of Hoseok’s abdomen against his own as he thrusted. When Hoseok brushed against Yoongi’s prostate a strangled noise got caught in Yoongi’s throat and he pressed harder against Hoseok’s mouth.

“You’re so good,” Hoseok murmured against Yoongi’s panting mouth. “So good for me. So tight.”

Yoongi tried to form words but his mouth wouldn’t work. He tried to kiss Hoseok but all he could manage to do was bite his lips and share breath. He gripped Hoseok’s hand hard, tangled his fingers in dark hair, twisted and clutched and arched and gasped. Too soon he felt the tight burning coil in his groin, and he let go of Hoseok’s hair to snake his hand down to his neglected cock.

“You close?” Hoseok panted and Yoongi nodded. “You’re so beautiful Yoongi. So beautiful. I want to see how pretty you are when you come.”

Yoongi whined, pumped himself a little bit faster. He was insanely turned on, pretty getting to him in a way he hadn’t expected.

“Hoseok,” he whispered, over and over. “Hoseok, oh Seok I love you. I love you so much, oh god Seok, oh god.”

“I’ve got you,” Hoseok gasped above him, face flushed and hair damp and so gorgeous. “Let go baby, I’ve got you.”

Yoongi came with a small whimper, long ropes painting his stomach and Hoseok’s chest. Hoseok continued to thrust into him with quiet grunts and low moans, and Yoongi clutched at Hoseok as he quickly moved into oversensitivity.

“You feel so good,” Yoongi whispered, trying his best at dirty talk. “Hoseok, want to feel you come. Want to feel you come inside me.”

Hoseok groaned and buried his face in the crook of Yoongi’s neck, and Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut at the urge to cry from the stimulation. 

“Oh god Hoseok,” Yoongi whined as Hoseok hit his prostate dead on. “I’m gonna. Hoseok it’s too much I can’t I’m gonna -“

Yoongi gave a high pitched whine as Hoseok stiffened against him, too much stimulation to his prostate bordering on painful. He registered the bite of Hoseok’s teeth on the skin of his shoulder when Hoseok released him, panting and sweaty.

“Fuck. I didn’t mean to bite you,” Hoseok murmured, nudging Yoongi’s nose with his. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Yoongi croaked, flexing his fingers against Hoseok’s. “Sensitive.”

“Sorry.” Hoseok pressed a quick kiss to Yoongi’s lips. “Want me to pull out?”

Yoongi nodded and winced when he felt Hoseok slide out. He felt cold and empty when Hoseok stood and disappeared into the connected bathroom. He reappeared with a damp wash cloth and Yoongi gave a small smile as Hoseok gently wiped the cum off of his stomach.

“Want to shower with me?” Hoseok asked.

Yoongi glanced at the window, at the purpling sky signaling the late hour. The guilt of what he had done sat like a stone in his stomach, churned against his insides. He didn’t want to go home. He didn’t even want to shower. He wanted to curl against Hoseok smelling like him, smelling like them, and stay there. But he nodded and allowed himself to be half carried into the shower stall. He leaned against Hoseok as the warm water soothed his aching muscles and Hoseok washed them down with coconut shampoo and vanilla body wash.

“I smell like a cupcake,” Yoongi chuckled as they toweled off, and Hoseok wrapped his lips around the small bite mark he had made on Yoongi’s shoulder.

“You taste like a cupcake.”

“Yeah, well you taste like a -“ Yoongi’s voice trailed off at the sound of a door opening somewhere in the house, and he watched Hoseok’s eyes widen. 

“Stay here,” Hoseok said as he pulled on pants and tugged on his shirt in the time it took Yoongi to button his jeans. He listened as Hoseok pounded down the stairs, winced at the surprised exclamation from his mother and the higher pitched voice of someone he did’t recognize. He finished getting dressed, hung up the towels, and slipped into his shoes before going downstairs as nonchalantly as possible.

The wide eyed look of surprise on Hoseok’s face and on the woman by his side who looked almost exactly like him with long hair made Yoongi feel like he was going to throw up.

“Thank you for the use of your shower,” Yoongi said in a bored drawl. “I’ll return the clothes to you at school?”

Hoseok blinked a couple of times before he caught on. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, of course. No problem. Oh, um, Min Yoongi this is my sister Jung Jiwoo.”

“Another Korean?” Jiwoo said with an outstretched hand and raised eyebrow. Yoongi shook it, not missing the way she gripped just a little too hard.

“Yeah, from Seattle. He teaches at Princeton too.”

“You’re a long way from Princeton Min Yoongi.”

The sharp tone didn’t escape Yoongi, and he was glad for his longer hair covering the red tips of his ears. “I know. I was out in the city. Had a fall in some snow. Got wet.”

“It’s a good thing Hoseok had an empty apartment for you to use,” Jiwoo said with a tight smile.


“What? Do you think I’m an idiot?” She hissed, and Hoseok blanched. “Come on Hoseok, you should have told him you don’t have any spare clothes here. Or I don’t know, maybe you should have gotten a hotel to fuck in.”

“Jiwoo, stop.” Hoseok’s face went from pale white to dark red, and Yoongi felt the urge to vomit and cry at the same time.

“Me stop? You’re married Hoseok. Did you know?” She looked back at Yoongi with sharp eyes and high colour on her cheekbones. “Did he tell you that he’s married?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi said, surprised at the coldness in his tone. “I did know. But thanks for the heads up.”

The look of disgust on Jiwoo’s face almost made Yoongi feel as sick as the look of disappointed terror on Hoseok’s. 

“I’m gonna go,” Yoongi muttered. “I’ll see you on campus.”

He pushed past Hoseok and his sister and out into the frigid night air. The snow was falling in a thick blanket and the cold stung Yoongi’s eyes. He shoved his hands deep in his pockets, tried to ignore the deep ache in his low back as he trudged through the snow.


Hoseok ran after him in just a hoodie, not even zipped, and Yoongi was so in love and so confused and so hurt that he didn’t know what to do except stand there. 

“Yoongi, I’m so sorry.” Hoseok took his hands in his own, so warm compared to Yoongi’s freezing ones. “I didn’t know.”

“Hoseok - Hoseok, I need to go.”

“I had no idea they were coming back, Yoongi.”

Yoongi snatched his hands away, pretending the look of shock and hurt on Hoseok’s face didn’t tear him up inside.

“I…I need to go home.”

The way Hoseok backed away from him with tight lips and a small nod hurt worse than anything else.



“I’m moving.”

Yoongi nearly spit his coffee out onto the iron table. Hoseok sat across from him bundled in a brown wool coat and purple knit scarf.

“You’re what?”

“Susan’s pregnant.”

The world felt like it had been pulled out from under Yoongi’s feet and he was falling into an abyss of static.

“She’s what?”

Hoseok bit his lip, averted his gaze, traced the top of his cup with his finger. “Three months. We’re moving to Maryland. Johns Hopkins. Best for high-risk pregnancies.”

“So you…with her…while we?” Yoongi felt like his heart was splitting in two. He felt betrayed. Granted, he and Hoseok had only slept together a couple of weeks before, but…Yoongi couldn’t help the immense anger boiling in his gut.

Hoseok gave him a sad, tired look. “She’s my wife, Yoon.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi laughed, rough and biting. “And you love her.”

“No.” Hoseok sounded pained, almost like he was choking. “I don’t. I wish I did, but I don’t.”

“Then why-“

“This is my kid Yoongi. This is…it might actually make it.”

“You can have me. Tae and Jeongguk love you. We could -“

“Yoongi.” Hoseok’s voice was placating, soothing in a way that grated on Yoongi’s nerves. “You haven’t talked to me for weeks.”

“Well excuse me if I was a little embarrassed getting caught fucking in your mother’s house,” Yoongi snapped, his voice rising a bit too much in the amplified station house. Hoseok leaned forward over the table, rested is face in his hands, and Yoongi didn’t know it was possible for him to feel so much for someone he hardly knew.

“Hoseok,” he whispered, leaning over the table. “Don’t you love me?”

“Yeah,” Hoseok said with a sad chuckle. “I’m sorry, but I do.”

“I love you too,” Yoongi whispered, taking Hoseok’s hands in his own.

“I know.” Hoseok squeezed his hands and Yoongi squeezed back, like a heartbeat. “I know.



“Why didn’t you tell me it was your last day?” Hoseok glanced up from the cardboard box on his desk and Yoongi slammed the door to his office shut. “Were you going to tell me at all?”

“Eventually,” Hoseok said, dropping a book into the box, and Yoongi felt so angry that he wanted to punch him.

Eventually? Like what? When you were on the plane to Maryland?”

“Yoongi.” Hoseok reached for him and Yoongi resisted the urge to shove him away. To hit him and scream at him. To lock him to the chair so that he couldn’t leave. He let Hoseok take his hand, let him be pulled into a tight hug.

“Take the train with me,” Hoseok whispered against Yoongi’s ear, and Yoongi couldn’t help his small smile.

“I don’t take the same train as you.”

“Susan’s already gone down. Her mom took her a few days ago.”

Yoongi leaned back, took in the dark circles under Hoseok’s beautiful brown eyes, his wavy dark hair, his slightly chapped lips. “So you want me to go home with you?”

Hoseok shrugged. “If you want.”

Yoongi leaned forward, captured Hoseok’s lips with his own. Hoseok groaned against his mouth, held Yoongi tighter. It made Yoongi feel warm, electric, breathless. He tangled his fingers in Hoseok’s hair and tugged, slipped his tongue against Hoseok’s when the younger gasped. 

Don’t leave me Yoongi said with every kiss. I love you. Stay with me. I love you. I love you.

A knock made them jump apart, Yoongi banging his hipbone against the edge of the desk and Hoseok tripping over his desk chair. They waited for the door to open before they heard the knock again, clearly one door down.

“Yoongi-“ Hoseok started, but Yoongi shook his head.

“I can’t go home with you Hoseok. This has got to be it.” He kept his eyes down, couldn’t bare to look Hoseok in the face.  “I’ll see you at the station, yeah?”

He caught Hoseok opening his mouth, looked like he was ready to argue, before his shoulders slumped and he nodded. “Yeah. At the station.”



Yoongi’s foot tapped impatiently against the leg of his chair as Namjoon talked about some museum he had visited in Maryland that Hoseok just had to see when he moved. Yoongi and Hoseok had gotten about ten minutes together before Namjoon had spotted them and invited himself over. Under normal circumstances Yoongi wouldn’t have minded the company, would have understood Namjoon’s desire to spend as much time with Hoseok as possible before he left but…he couldn’t talk to Hoseok, not really, with their friend and coworker right across from them.

Yoongi jumped at the feeling of something brushing against his calf, and he looked over to catch Hoseok’s quick wink before the brushing moved higher, right under his knee. He bit his lip and slipped his hand under the table, gripped Hoseok’s thigh hard and covered his mouth against his grin.

“But come visit us,” Namjoon said with a smile. “I know Dahyun and Bitna will want to see you.”

“Send them down to me,” Hoseok said. “Hopefully I’ll have a new baby for them to dote on.”

“You will,” Namjoon said forcefully, and Yoongi ran his fingers gently along the crease of Hoseok’s trousers, not missing the way Hoseok’s eyelids fluttered shut. He was just about to open his mouth to suggest a trip to the bathroom when Namjoon jumped up, knocking over his chair in the process. “Hoseok isn’t that your train?”

Yoongi’s fingers clutched tighter around Hoseok’s thigh as the younger’s eyes snapped open. Hoseok’s eyes darted to his, wide and apologetic, and Yoongi reluctantly released him. Hoseok shook Namjoon’s hand, promised to keep in touch. Yoongi stood and shoved his hands awkwardly in his pockets, accepted the half-hug that Hoseok gave him.

“I’ll keep in touch,” Hoseok said, his voice strained, and Yoongi nodded.

“Yeah, sure.”

He didn’t watch as Hoseok put his bag over his shoulder. He didn’t watch when Hoseok stepped out of the station doors. He held his breath and he counted and he waited for his heart rate to slow down.

“Hey man,” Namjoon said quietly, and his strong hand on Yoongi’s shoulder made him break. “You okay?”

“No,” Yoongi whispered. He flashed Namjoon a teary smile and ran out of the station, catching a glimpse of Hoseok’s bag on the edge of the train steps.


The backpack paused, then backed up until Hoseok was standing on the platform with a confused look on his face. Yoongi launched himself at him, clutched at Hoseok’s coat and pressed his mouth against the other man’s throat.

“Yoongi, what are you -“

“I changed my mind,” Yoongi whispered. “I’ll go with you. I’ll go home with you.”

Hoseok sighed and pulled away, held Yoongi’s forearms instead of his hands. “Yoongi you don’t want that.”

“Don’t tell me what I want,” Yoongi hissed, but Hoseok’s sad smile made his gut clench.

“Yoongi, you said no.”

“And I changed my mind.” Yoongi’s eyes burned and he resisted blinking so that tears wouldn’t fall. He was a grown ass man and he would not cry.

“I can’t,” Hoseok whispered, brushing his nose against Yoongi’s.

“But I - “

“I know.”

“Sir?” Yoongi jumped at the sound of the conductor’s voice, leaned against Hoseok’s chest and breathed in the scent of warm vanilla and Hoseok’s own musk. “I’m sorry but the train needs to leave.”

“Yoongi,” Hoseok murmured against Yoongi’s hair, and Yoongi took a shuddering breath. “I have to go.”

Yoongi pulled back, stared into deep chocolate eyes. He tilted his chin, felt the brush of Hoseok’s lips against his, tasted the lemon ginger of his tea. He parted his lips and -


And there was nothing. Yoongi blinked his eyes open to catch Hoseok boarding the train. He pressed his fingers to his lips and followed Hoseok’s form as he searched for a seat. He sat next to a blond woman and leaned forward to wave; Yoongi waved back, kept waving until the train pulled out, kept waving until it was nothing but a dot in the distance. Then he sat down on the ground, and he cried.


“You’re home early,” Mina said as he shut the door behind him. She wore her hair loose and was dressed in simple jeans and a plain linen t-shirt. Yoongi shrugged as he slipped off his coat.

“Where are the kids?”

“My parents are in town.” Mina crossed her arms as she leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen. “Did you forget?”

Yoongi shrugged again. “Sorry. Been pre-occupied.”

Mina raised her eyebrow and Yoongi felt the ridiculous urge to cry again. “I’ve noticed.”

“Mina,” Yoongi sighed out, running his hands over his face. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

His wife’s sudden presence right in front of him put Yoongi’s senses into overdrive - her florals drowned out Hoseok’s vanilla, her nearly black eyes replaced his chocolate brown, her moon face eclipsed his sharp jawline. She gave a tight smile and Yoongi’s stomach dropped.

“I know Yoongi.”

“Know what?”

“That there’s someone else.” Yoongi’s breath rushed out of him in a single whoosh. “Come on Yoongi, I know I’ve been busy but I’m not blind.”

“I-“ Yoongi’s words choked in his throat. “I’m sorry.”

Mina snorted. She rolled her eyes and went back into the kitchen, back to whatever baking project she was working on. 

“Don’t fucking apologize,” she said blandly. They were quiet for a few moments, Yoongi watching her knead dough from one of the kitchen chairs and her steadfastly ignoring him until her dough was in a green glass bowl and covered in plastic.

“Is it over?” she asked, setting a half empty bottle of beer on the table in front of Yoongi.

  “Is what over?” Yoongi murmured, fingernails picking at the label on the bottle.

“Your affair. With whoever you’re fucking.”

Yoongi released a tight hiss of air and squeezed his eyes shut. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s over.”

“Well then.” Mina sat down in the chair across from Yoongi and propped her feet on his knees. “That’s that.”



Jung Hoseok [22:14]: Susan asked for a divorce.

Min Yoongi [22:38]: What? When? Are you okay?

Min Yoongi [22:39]: Is it the baby?

Jung Hoseok [22:45]: No baby is good. It’s a girl. She’s in ICU but it looks good.

Min Yoongi [22:47]: I’m glad.

Min Yoongi [22:48]: Did she know about us?

Jung Hoseok [22:50]: No. 

Jung Hoseok [22:50]: Just sick of me I guess

Min Yoongi [22:51]: I’m sorry. 

Jung Hoseok [22:52]: It’s okay

Min Yoongi [23:01]: I told Mina. 

Jung Hoseok [23:02]: Really? How did that go.

Min Yoongi [23:03]: it’s fine. We’re fine.

Jung Hoseok [23:07]: That’s good. 

Jung Hoseok [23:25]: I’m going to move back. After the baby is discharged.

Min Yoongi [23:27]: Taking her with?

Jung Hoseok [23:29]: I’d have to work out the details.

Jung Hoseok [23:31]: I’d like to see you

Min Yoongi [02:17]: Maybe.

Jung Hoseok [06:45]: I still love you Min Yoongi.

Min Yoongi [15:48]: I know.

Min Yoongi [18:20]: I love you too