Work Header


Work Text:

"What do you mean Thursday’s booked already?" Yoongi asked—or, demanded, really.

"I said what I said." The manager of the bar stared at him, scowling—but then, Jiyong was almost always scowling. "It’s already booked."

"By who?" Yoongi pressed, leaning onto the counter, both palms flat in front of him. "You know my slot is always Thursday at 10."

Jiyong huffed a sigh, rolling his eyes. "Well, this week, it’s not. Kid came in, requested it ‘cause of how the crowd’s always so packed—"

"My crowd, that my band packs in!" Yoongi interrupted, but Jiyong continued as though he hadn’t spoken at all.

"—and paid upfront."

That gave Yoongi pause—he always had to pay afterward, out of the money that Jiyong gave him as his band’s share of the night’s profits.

"Well, but—look at all the business I bring in," Yoongi said, pleading now—he did not want to lose his band’s timeslot to some newcomer who just thought he could do whatever he wanted with money he already had.

"And I thank you for it," Jiyong said, nodding to one of the bouncers as he walked in, a cold gust of air blowing past him. In his oversized Army jacket, Yoongi shivered a little.

"Well—can’t you just push his slot up to 8 or something?" Yoongi asked, but he already knew it was a lost cause.

"You know I can’t," Jiyong said. He met Yoongi’s eyes, then sighed, defeated, leaning one elbow on the countertop. "Look, either you open for his band, or you don’t play at all. Out of my hands."

"August doesn’t open for anyone," Yoongi said, too proud to admit defeat—but he and his friends had been on their own in this band since day one, working for everything they had, and Yoongi wasn’t about to see their hard efforts go down the drain just because Jiyong refused to cut him a break. "And you’re the manager, for fuck’s sake," he added, turning away. "You’re the only one whose hands it’s in."

"Then you ask him to switch," Jiyong said, hooking his index finger into the back of Yoongi’s jacket collar, tugging him back. "He’s right there." The tattooed hand holding him appeared over his shoulder, pointing.

Yoongi followed the direction of his finger, but there was no one else he could mean—the bar was mostly empty, the only people milling about employees and regulars who had nothing else to do in the middle of the day on a Monday afternoon. There was only one person who he didn’t recognize, who was talking to the person in charge of sound during performances.

Stalking over, Yoongi approached the pair of them—the sound girl, who had pale purple hair to match her name of Violet, and the red-haired culprit who had stolen August's spot and would not get away with it.

"Hey," Yoongi said, and both heads turned to look at him. Violet looked somewhat relieved—she and Yoongi's band had always had a decent rapport, and it looked like this newbie was stressing her out.

"Hey, Yoongi," Violet said. "How goes it?"

"Been better," Yoongi replied, nodding to her. "Mind if I talk to, uh..." He trailed off, waiting for one of them to supply his name.

"Hoseok," the redhead said, grinning widely. He clearly recognized Yoongi by name—probably Violet’s doing—but had no idea of the fury about to rain down on him.

"No problem," Violet said, backing a couple steps away, but not before reaching out to pat Yoongi a couple times on the arm. "See you later."

"Hi!" Hoseok said, as soon as Violet had left. "Nice to mee—"

"Listen," Yoongi said, a much nicer start than he'd initially intended, but Violet was still in earshot and she didn't have anything to do with what was about to happen. "You took my band's timeslot."

Hoseok's smile faltered, but only a little bit. "What?"

"Thursday at 10. That's my band's timeslot," Yoongi repeated.

"Um," Hoseok said, drawing out the syllable. "I don't think so. I booked it just a little while ago for my band."

"Yeah," Yoongi said, nodding, his tone very clearly condescending. "Here's the thing: My band has been playing Thursday at 10 at this bar for over a year. You can't just come in and take my timeslot."

Hoseok huffed a short, unamused laugh, shifting his weight to the other foot. At his full height, he was at least four inches taller than Yoongi, who cursed himself for wearing sneakers today and not the heavy boots that gave him another inch on top of his meager 5'7".

"I mean, sorry?" Hoseok said, not sounding sorry at all. "But I did."

"You don't get it," Yoongi said, crowding up on Hoseok, puffing his chest and drawing himself up as tall as he could get. "Thursday is the busiest night of the week here, 'cause of the college down the street. They all come to party here, and we need that exposure."

Hoseok scoffed. "If you've been playing here for over a year, you should have exposure already. Maybe your band—" he gave a strange inflection to the words "your band," and it took Yoongi a moment to realize that Hoseok was mocking them "—just kinda sucks."

"Say that again," Yoongi said, his entire reason for approaching Hoseok in the first place forgotten.

Hoseok laughed—the motherfucker actually laughed—and shook his head. "Look, I'm guessing you came over here to get me to switch timeslots with you? Not gonna happen." He reached up, flipping up the collar of his leather jacket to fend off the cold. "See you Thursday."

He pushed past Yoongi, their chests brushing as he did, and Yoongi managed to keep his balance even though he definitely almost stumbled backward. He watched Hoseok go, his eyes landing on Jiyong as the door swung shut. He gave Yoongi a sympathetic look, then turned to head into the stock room.

The rest of Yoongi's band weren't as upset as he was that they were playing earlier on Thursday night than usual—but to Yoongi, it was a matter of principle. They'd put in the time, paid their dues—that timeslot was theirs, as far as he was concerned.

Normally, on a Thursday, August's call time was whenever they all showed up as long as it was before 10. But that Thursday, Yoongi had demanded that they all be there at 7:30 sharp, to scope out Hoseok's band—who definitely sucked more than Yoongi's, he was certain of it—in case they arrived early.

"Where did this guy come from, anyway?" Jungkook asked, scuffing his foot against the worn wooden floor of the bar as he hoisted his bass drum onto the low stage. Despite the cold weather outside, he was wearing a black tank top—he said having his arms free made it easier to play drums. Yoongi was pretty sure it was bullshit, but he wasn't about to argue either.

"No idea," Yoongi said, scowling as he uncoiled a cable, plugging one end into his guitar, and the other into his amp. "But I hate him."

Namjoon snickered, his bass already plugged in, as he plucked a few strings on it. "You hate everyone."

"Not true," Yoongi said, straightening up and strumming a few discordant chords. They definitely echoed his mood.

"Is he here?" Jungkook asked. "I want to see what this guy looks like."

Yoongi scanned the crowd, but shook his head. "Nah. And neither is anyone else, fuck!" he said, kicking the corner of his amp.

"Watch it," Namjoon said. "If you break it like that, I can't fix it." Typical tech complaint.

"Not that it'll matter," Yoongi said, his voice still venomous. "No one's fucking here." He gestured out at the bar, which truthfully was mostly empty. He'd posted multiple times on August's Twitter and Facebook that their usual set time of 10PM was moving up to 8PM—making it clear that it was just for one night only, because Hoseok was going to get another fucking earful as soon as he showed his stupid smiley face—but the turnout was just as bad as though he'd never posted at all.

"Time check?" Jungkook asked, placing his last cymbal in place and settling down on his stool, tapping the edge of one of his toms with his sticks.

Namjoon slipped his phone from his pocket, pushing his thick-rimmed glasses up on his nose as he checked. "7:57. We can probably start." He looked at Yoongi.

"I'll go let Jiyong know we're ready," Yoongi said, slipping in between Jungkook's drum set and Namjoon, who slung his bass over his shoulder after Yoongi passed.

"All set," Yoongi said, leaning over the bar to Jiyong, who glanced over his shoulder before nodding.

"All right," he said, turning back to finish pouring the drink he was mixing. "Let Violet know you're good."

Yoongi nodded, even though Jiyong's back was to him, and his next stop was the sound booth, where Violet sat, ready and waiting.

"Hey," Yoongi said, tapping his fingertips against the waist-height, half-door that kept people out but Violet accessible. "We're good to go, if you are."

She put down her phone, looking over at Yoongi, then nodding. "Sure," she said. "Shame you're playing so early. Bar's empty."

Yoongi scowled. "Don't fuckin' remind me," he said, patting the top of the door with the palm of his hand. "Later."

He spun on his heel, heading back to the stage. The lights for the bar proper dimmed, leaving only the stage illuminated, and Yoongi picked up his guitar, adjusting the strap over his shoulder before he stepped up to his mic.

"We're August," Yoongi said, smiling a little despite his shitty mood as Jungkook played a drumroll behind him. "Thanks for coming out."

"Great set," Jungkook said, as the house lights went back up, the three of them drenched in sweat. August was a hardcore band, too heavy to play so early, in Jungkook's opinion—but the turnout had ended up pretty good, all things considered. They played a few extra songs, just because the crowd was demanding it—and by the time they toweled off and broke down their equipment, it was already 9:30.

Yoongi flipped his guitar case closed, lifting his towel again to make sure his hair was as dry as he could possibly make it—and then Namjoon whistled to catch his attention, jerking his chin to indicate that someone was standing behind him.

"I thought your set was only going to be an hour," Hoseok said, looking down his nose at Yoongi, who scoffed.

"You hear that crowd?" he countered. "They were begging for more."

"We need time to set up," Hoseok said. "So if you could clear out, that'd be great."

"What the fuck—" Jungkook began, but Yoongi lifted a hand, waving his own bandmates away.

"We'll be right out of your way," Yoongi said. "Can't wait to see your set." He gave Hoseok a smile that was obviously fake—it didn't even come close to reaching his eyes.

The three of them left the stage, heading outside to lock their gear in Namjoon's dad's car (borrowed, as always, because they couldn’t afford their own van just yet), and then hurried back in.

"Holy shit," Yoongi said, unable to stop himself. Hoseok, and who appeared to be his band members, were standing off to the side—there were other people setting up their instruments and equipment. If this band had roadies—or at least, the disposable income to hire people to help them—then what the fuck were they doing playing in Jiyong's shitty bar?

"They have a keyboard," Namjoon said. They were at the back, near the bar, three bottles of beer waiting for them, but their eyes were fixed on the group standing with Hoseok.

"Cute," Jungkook added—and he did turn to swipe his beer from the bar, taking a long sip.

Yoongi refrained from commenting, instead watching one of the roadies test out first one guitar, and then the bass. They seemed like a well-oiled machine, an outfit that did this professionally. Yoongi was unable to think of a reason that they would be so adamant about taking a relatively unknown band's timeslot at some rundown bar in the middle of a college town.

Once 10'o'clock rolled around, the band climbed onstage. Hoseok picked up the bass, taking his place at the center mic. The other three, whom Yoongi didn't know and didn't want to, took their places as well: A blonde with serious DSL's stood behind the keyboard, adjusting the microphone to his short height; another redhead, though his hair was much brighter than the other sat at the drum kit, twirling one of his sticks as he grinned, his smile a box; and the last, who honestly looked too handsome to even exist, picked up an acoustic-electric guitar, standing behind the last microphone.

The four of them looked like some boy band, not a rock band playing in a seedy-as-fuck bar.

The keyboardist played a few, lofty notes—which turned out to be the beginning of the first song. Yoongi groaned, turning his back on them and leaning on the bar, picking up his beer. Namjoon and Jungkook did the same. None of them spoke for the rest of the set.

Much to Yoongi's surprise, Hoseok and his bandmates did help break down their equipment, packing it away carefully, winding wires and locking cases. Yoongi hesitated, but the three beers in his belly were making him feel a lot better than he thought he would—he pushed away from the bar and started toward Hoseok, where he was standing.

"Where are you going?" Jungkook asked, but Yoongi only lifted a hand and waved the question away, pushing through the crowd (while trying not to think about how many more people had shown up, probably expecting to see his damn band).

"Hey," Yoongi said, grasping at the back of Hoseok's shirt, tugging at it and trying to turn him around. Without waiting for a response, he went on. "We need to talk."

Hoseok turned to look over his shoulder; upon seeing who was holding him, he shrugged Yoongi's hand off of him. "One second, Jimin," he said, finally facing Yoongi. "What do you want?"

"We need to talk," Yoongi repeated. Hoseok laughed a little, like he couldn't quite believe this was happening, but nodded.

"I'll be right back," Hoseok said to Jimin (from this close he could be recognized as the keyboardist), and followed Yoongi through the bar, wending their way through the crowd.

"Goin' out to have a smoke!" Yoongi called to Jiyong, who nodded to him, waving him into the stock room.

"This is out?" Hoseok asked, following Yoongi, who let the door swing shut behind them, immensely lowering the volume from outside in the bar.

"This is," Yoongi said, rounding a stack of boxes and pushing open a door beneath a green EXIT sign. The door opened into an alley, musty and wet, littered with trash and stinking like cigarettes, even though no one else was out there.

"Nice place," Hoseok said, kicking an empty beer can; it skittered away across the blacktop. "Love the ambiance."

The door clicked shut, a heavy noise that made Hoseok look back at it, not quite sure if he should be nervous just yet.

"So, what did you want?" he asked, crossing his arms against the cold—neither of them were wearing a coat, so whatever Yoongi wanted, wouldn't take long, he was sure.

"To talk," Yoongi said. "But I'm just gonna call you on your shit right here."

"What does that mean?" Hoseok replied, an edge to his voice too.

"Your band—you don't need this bar, and you don't need my timeslot, do you?" Yoongi said, keeping his face angled down, his white-blonde hair hanging over his face.

"I'm not sure what you mean," Hoseok said, licking his lips. "But it just sounds like you're jealous."

"Jealous?" Yoongi repeated, voice louder than just before. "Of fucking what?" He raised his face, meeting Hoseok's eyes. Half of the lights in the alley were out, and the one directly above them was flickering. It gave Yoongi an eerie appearance, but Hoseok still didn't back down.

"That I got your stupid timeslot," Hoseok said. "That my band pulled in a crowd just as big as yours usually does. That you've been playing at this bar for a year and still can't afford to pay for your shit in adv—"

Before he could even finish the word, Yoongi had rushed at him, pushing him back into the dumpster beside the door to the bar's stock room. Hoseok let out an oof, the air knocked out of him, but he managed to collect himself quickly enough that when Yoongi came for him again, he managed to stop him—with a punch right to the jaw.

"Fuck," Yoongi groaned, opening his mouth and moving his jaw from side to side—nothing seemed to be fucked up, but he tasted blood, and he realized when he flitted his tongue over his lip, that he'd bitten down on it once Hoseok had hit him. "Fuck you, man."

Hoseok was shaking his hand, wincing a little—punching someone, especially in the face, was never a good idea—but in places like Jiyong's, sometimes it was necessary. He'd found that out the first time he'd played in a sleazy bar.

"Fuck you," Hoseok said. "Grow the fuck up. You think you're so hard just 'cause you know how to scream into a microphone? You're just a spoiled little kid, aren't you?"

Yoongi licked his lip again, absolutely refusing to show Hoseok that it hurt him to do so—he was weighing his odds, deciding what he wanted to say, and then it hit him. "Well, you'd know, right? With your fuckin' roadies doing everything for you. Fuck you and fuck your shitty band."

Hoseok opened his mouth to reply, but shut it after a brief moment. He stepped closer to Yoongi, who had to lift his face to keep eye contact—why the fuck had he not worn his goddamn boots?—and then, once they were nearly chest-to-chest, Hoseok spoke.

"I'll give you this: At least a little blood makes you look the part," he said—and then, to Yoongi's great surprise, he lifted his hand, the same hand he'd just punched him with, and cupped Yoongi's face, running his thumb over his bleeding lip, smearing it there.

"F—" Yoongi started to say, slapping his hand away, but before he could even register what was happening, Hoseok had grabbed his wrist and used the momentum of the attempted slap to yank Yoongi further to the side, then turn him and push him up against the wall, his arm still in Hoseok's hold and bent behind his back.

"Fuck me, is that what you were gonna say?" Hoseok asked, his breath warm on Yoongi's cheek, right in his ear. "How about I fuck you instead?"

For a moment, Yoongi had no idea if he was serious, if he was actually proposing that they hook up in this alley (could it be called "hooking up" if Yoongi hated him?) but Hoseok's hold on his wrist loosened, just enough to be perceptible, and his thumb swiped across Yoongi's palm.

"Ok," Yoongi said, his cheek pressed against the brick of the building—he turned as much as he could, looking at Hoseok over his shoulder. Their eyes met; Hoseok was smirking, but even so, Yoongi still wanted it, for some godforsaken reason. He'd think of a way to get the upper hand, even if he let this happen. "Do it then, prick."

Hoseok's laugh was low, but he smacked a big, long kiss to Yoongi's temple before taking a step back, releasing his arm. "Pants down," he commanded, and Yoongi hurried to comply, lowering his arms to unbutton his jeans and push them down, along with his briefs—the cold air was a little bit of a shock, but it was still in the alley, no breeze between the buildings, so he knew he would be fine.

Yoongi turned, wanting to be sure that Hoseok wasn't just going to leave him alone in the alley with his pants half off, but he was crowding Yoongi again, moving him back up against the wall. One hand was dipping down between them, palming at Yoongi's ass, while the other appeared beside Yoongi's face.

"Suck," Hoseok said, and Yoongi opened his mouth, letting two of Hoseok's fingers in. He closed his lips around them, making sure to get them as wet as possible with his saliva, letting his tongue move over and between them—until Hoseok pulled them out, coated with spit.

Stepping back, just to give himself enough room, Hoseok let his wet fingers slip between Yoongi's ass cheeks. It took just a moment for him to find his hole, but he did—and circled it immediately trailing his index finger over him, trying to coax him open.

Yoongi leaned his forehead against the wall, letting his eyes flutter closed as he felt Hoseok's first finger move inside of him, stretching him around it; he let out a sigh despite himself as Hoseok fucked him slowly with his finger. Yoongi tugged his shirt up, trying in vain to hold it out of the way as he wrapped his hand around himself, the other still pressed flat against the bricks.

"Harder," Yoongi said, "more." He licked his swollen lip, still tasting blood—and then bit down on it again, loosing a deep groan, as Hoseok hooked a second finger into his asshole, fucking him with two just as he'd requested.

With one hand on his cock, and Hoseok's fingers in his ass, Yoongi knew he would get off before long—so he arched his back, making sure he wouldn't accidentally buck his hips into the wall that his shoulders were pressed up against. Hoseok took Yoongi's pushing back against him as the desire for more still—and he gave it to Hoseok, leaning up against him as best he could while leaving himself enough room to finger Yoongi. He scissored his fingers, opening Yoongi up even though they couldn't go further than just this—being in an alley had its limitations.

"Harder," Yoongi said, again; he felt Hoseok's breath on his neck, still steady even as Yoongi's came in pants.

"Yeah?" Hoseok asked, and the smirk on his lips was fucking audible—Yoongi swallowed thickly at how gruff his voice sounded. "Figures." Yoongi's stomach clenched—Hoseok was exactly the insufferable piece of shit that he seemed—but he moaned aloud when Hoseok's fingers worked into him a bit quicker, spreading further apart as they moved out of him; he jerked himself off quicker, toes curling in his sneakers as he leaned further back into Hoseok, then fucked forward into his hand.

Curling his free hand into a fist, Yoongi bit down on his knuckles, his lip sore as it stretched; he kept himself quiet as Hoseok's fingers curled just right inside of him, and then his hips were stuttering against his hand as he came, thick ropes landing on the wall in front of him, his thighs trembling as he leaned fully on the wall for support.

"Shit," Yoongi sighed, lowering his face to let his forehead rest against his hand as he caught his breath. He felt Hoseok pull his fingers out and wipe them on Yoongi's shirt, the soles of his shoes shuffling against the blacktop as he stepped backward.

Yoongi took a breath, centering himself again as he reached down to pull his pants and underwear back up; he buttoned his jeans and with one final tug upward of his zipper, he appeared normal—except for the bloody lip.

Behind him, he heard the telltale tinkling of a belt buckle being undone, and when he turned, Hoseok was looking at him expectantly. Yoongi smirked—here was how he got the upper hand.

"Thanks," Yoongi said, pushing past Hoseok to pull the bar's back door open. "Prick."

The door squeaked shut behind Yoongi, as he made his way back to the bar. Namjoon was still there—he was Yoongi's ride home, anyway, but Jungkook had long since left.

Yoongi dodged the unceasing questions from Namjoon and Jiyong about what had happened to his lip, and when Hoseok sidled back into the bar after a moment, Yoongi smirked as he tapped the bar, signaling Jiyong that he wanted another beer.

"Morning," Yoongi said, yawning a little as he stepped up to the bar, leaning against the edge.

Jiyong glanced over, and once he saw who was speaking to him, snickered. He finished filling the beer glass he was holding, shutting off the tap, and handed it to an older man before approaching Yoongi.

"Morning?" Jiyong echoed. "It's 4:30." He reached for a glass, raising his eyebrows to question whether Yoongi wanted a beer, but put it back down when Yoongi waved it off.

"Morning somewhere, right?" Yoongi asked, suppressing another yawn, lifting a hand to push his hair back over his forehead. "So, Thursday night. We'll take 10PM this time—"

"It's booked," Jiyong said, stepping back to lean against the wall behind the bar, as though Yoongi would try to shoot the messenger.

"What?" Yoongi said—and he wasn't even angry, he just couldn't believe it. "By who?" He already knew the answer.

Jiyong paused, reaching underneath the bar for a clipboard, then showed it to Yoongi, the same scrawl as the previous Thursday night's booking visible: Band Name: Hope on the Street; Booked By: Hoseok Jung

Yoongi swallowed, biting his lip, still sporting the split where he'd bitten it only a couple days prior. He appreciated Jiyong's help—but he'd made one fundamental mistake: That asshole Hoseok's contact information was written there too, and Yoongi was going to go pay him a fucking visit.

"Fucking typical," he said to himself, looking up at the apartment building that Hoseok called home. It was nicer than any building Yoongi thought he'd ever been in close proximity to, and judging by the look that an elderly woman who heard him swear gave him, it was nicer than any building he should be near, either.

Normally, he would have tried to piggyback in with her, but she glanced over her shoulder as she unlocked the outside door, and he knew that was a lost cause. Instead, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, checking his notifications and ignoring both Namjoon and Jungkook telling him not to go to Hoseok's apartment, was he crazy, this was a terrible idea—He already knew. But he had to confront the guy. He needed to level with him, at the very least. Musician to musician.

Once the old woman had disappeared into an elevator, Yoongi stepped up to the building again, taking in the board of tenants. He pushed the buzzer for every apartment except Hoseok's, hoping someone would let him in, even though it seemed a little out of character for a place like this. There were potted plants and a TV set showing the Weather Channel in the lobby, for fuck's sake.

It took a couple of tries, but finally, someone named Roberts, T. buzzed him in. The door unlocked, and Yoongi hurried in before someone who lived there came along to make him leave. His combat boots and ripped jeans were probably enough to call the cops on him, in these people's eyes.

Hoseok lived on the eighth floor, and Yoongi took the elevator up, holding his breath as each floor ticked by—the last thing he needed was to run into someone. But he made it to Hoseok's floor without incident, and he found apartment 812 after only another couple minutes' search.

He raised a hand to knock, tentatively, then a bit louder, and finally, he heard footsteps shuffling toward the door. There was a pause—presumably Hoseok looking out the peephole—and then the chain slid and the door opened.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Hoseok greeted him, if one could be greeted in that tone—and Yoongi, now that he was here, now that he realized how exponentially creepy it was for him to be here, actually felt a little embarrassed. But he licked his lower lip, still slightly swollen where he'd bitten it after Hoseok's punch, and he felt emboldened.

"You took our timeslot again," Yoongi said, keeping his voice level.

"I already told you, it's not your—" Hoseok began, but Yoongi interrupted him.

"Can I come in?"

Hoseok studied him, eyes traveling over his whole body, before he took a deep breath through his nose and stepped back. He didn't speak, but Yoongi brushed past him anyway.

"Look, I'm not even going to ask how you found out my address, but—"

"Just—shut up," Yoongi said. He was trying to ignore how Hoseok's living room and kitchen were actually two separate rooms, and how both of those rooms combined were about the size of his entire apartment. "I know your band is—I know you're already, like, doing well or whatever. I know you heard about the crowd at Jiyong's and that's why you wanted to book your band to play there. But that crowd—my band pulled that crowd in. Ok?"

Hoseok stood still, arms crossed, his hips flexed as Yoongi spoke. He waited for Yoongi to continue, but when he didn't, opened his mouth.

"I'm not sure why you think you're the only people entitled to play at whatever time you want. You can sign up before I do—"

"No, we can't," Yoongi said, voice breaking, cursing himself for it. People like Hoseok didn't understand—judging by his apartment he probably had a good job, with a good paycheck, and played music in his free time. Yoongi's job, his life, was his band. "August is everything I have. Every show we play, every single shirt or CD we sell, that money goes straight to me, Kook, and Joon. I don't—we don't have the money to book the bar in advance. We've been doing this for years, just the three of us. And then you come in, and take our timeslot—which our fans expect us to play, every week—and it's just like all of that goes away. It goes, just like that." He thought about snapping his fingers for emphasis, but decided that was a bit too much.

Hoseok was studying him again, but this time, his eyes were solely on Yoongi's face, reading him, taking it all in. Yoongi stood there, waiting—for what, he didn't know. To be thrown out of Hoseok's apartment, maybe, or to be turned the fuck down, but Hoseok cleared his throat and lowered his arms.

"I guess I never thought of that," he said, walking past Yoongi to go sit on his couch—which, Yoongi estimated, probably cost more than all of Yoongi's furniture put together. "But that's still not—"

"Please," Yoongi said, turning to face him. "Look, I—I know you don't owe me anything—"

"Definitely not after that shit you pulled in the alley," Hoseok said, and Yoongi could swear he saw the beginnings of a smirk on Hoseok's lips before he gestured for Yoongi to continue.

"Uh," Yoongi said, losing his train of thought for a moment, "right, well." He sighed, lifting one hand to cover his face for a moment, unable to believe he was begging—but August meant more to him than his pride (especially since there was no one else around to see him). "Just—switch timeslots with us. You—if your band is doing so well—I mean, you have roadies for fuck’s sake—just let us have the better time. You don't need it."

Hoseok bit the inside of his cheek—Yoongi could see how it hollowed—but finally, he nodded. "Fine. If it's that big a deal to you—"

"It is," Yoongi said, nodding, trying to hold back his huge grin. He couldn't believe Hoseok had given in.

"—then I'll tell Jiyong you're playing at 10."

Yoongi nodded, taking one final look around the apartment. "Cool," he said. "You can call the bar and let him know." He headed back toward the door, as Hoseok stood up from the couch, clearly expecting a thank you, or some other follow-up to the decision, but all he got was his door opening, Yoongi lifting his hand to wave without looking back, and a "Later" that was almost drowned out by the slamming shut of his door.

It was almost enough to make Hoseok go back on his word—but there was something, maybe a moment of genuine earnestness in Yoongi's pleading—that made Hoseok call up the bar and cancel his band's performance.

The bar was crowded—as it was supposed to be—and it was only 9:15. He'd been surprised when Hoseok's band hadn't shown up to play at 8, but that only made the crowd more raucous, more wanting of live music, so when Yoongi's band headed up to take the stage, it was to tumultuous applause. Sure, some of it may have been because finally something was happening up there, but they'd take it.

Yoongi was singing his heart out, glad that things were finally fucking going their way—Violet was beaming at them from the sound booth, and Jiyong had needed to call in another bartender once it became clear that August's fans were overrunning the bar. There were three of them back there—it almost seemed like a celebration of the band getting its normal timeslot back.

Halfway through the set, when the band took a short break to take a drink and breathe for a minute, Yoongi caught sight of someone nestled off to the side of the crowd, unmoving, but watching with rapt attention. He was wearing a newsboy cap that matched his grey peacoat, but his red hair was peeking out from beneath the sides. Hoseok was there, at the bar, watching them.

"Let's go," Yoongi said, waving to Jungkook and Namjoon. "Back on stage."

"It hasn't been five minutes," Jungkook said, looking at Namjoon—but he just rolled his eyes, taking one last swig of his lukewarm beer, before returning to his microphone.

"Kill it," Yoongi said to them, facing Jungkook at his drum set, before arranging his fingers on the right spots of his guitar's neck, ready to play the chords that began their next song.

It was one of their most popular, and despite that they never liked to leave it to the end of the set. It fired everyone up—Yoongi was glad he'd noticed Hoseok before playing this one, so he could give it his all. He wasn't trying to impress him, the prick—he just wanted to show how important playing shows was to him, why it really did mean so much to get their usual timeslot, why it mattered.

As Yoongi strummed the first chord, the crowd lit up, shouts and yells, fists thrust into the air, pounding along with the drumbeat. Namjoon was on point with his backing vocals, not to mention the bass line—he was hopping up and down in place as he played—and Jungkook was beaming, his smile only growing wider with each cymbal crash, each bass drum kick. It really set the tone for the rest of their set—they had felt great anyway, like this would have been one of their best—but the crowd getting so into it, shoving Hoseok's goddamn grin into the proof that Yoongi's band had earned everything he'd told Hoseok they deserved... That was unlike anything else.

"Need some help?"

Yoongi and Namjoon both glanced up from where they were crouched, winding up their cables and packing away pedals. Jungkook was taking care of his cymbals—too far out of earshot to hear the voice; the bar was still pretty loud, but some of the crowd had thinned after the lights came back up.

It was Hoseok, Yoongi saw, one foot up on the edge of the stage, his coat unbuttoned, hat still atop his head. Namjoon turned back to his pedal board.

"With what?" Yoongi asked, placing the coiled cable on top of his amp and rising to his feet. He was too euphoric to let Hoseok bother him, even if he was about to start something.

"Packing up?" Hoseok said, gesturing to the remaining gear on the stage.

Namjoon glanced over, and Yoongi snickered. "You do that?"

Hoseok opened his mouth to reply, then closed it, biting back whatever he'd been about to say and changing tack. "I've been known to, yes."

"Could've fooled me," Yoongi said. "You can help Kook with his drums, we're almost finished," he went on, indicating himself and Namjoon.

Jungkook turned at the sound of his name, drumsticks half falling out of his back pocket, as Hoseok stepped onto the stage.

"No problem," Hoseok said, giving Jungkook a small smile which was not returned—but even so, he put Jungkook's drums in their cases, even going so far as to help carry them out to the the car.

"Why is he here?" Namjoon asked, as Hoseok trailed Jungkook outside, carrying the bass drum.

"Got me," Yoongi replied, making sure his guitar case was shut before picking it up. "Maybe he wanted to see what real music sounds like?"

Namjoon snickered, and together they headed outside, carrying their guitars out, cables looped on their arms as Jungkook and Hoseok passed them on the way back in—

Except, as he was about to walk by, Hoseok grabbed Yoongi's arm. He jerked it out of his grasp, looking over at him with narrowed eyes, wondering if he was about to start some shit in the middle of the bar, now that he’d gotten Yoongi alone.

"What?" Yoongi asked, turning to face him—Jungkook was back on stage, and Namjoon had left the bar—it was just the two of them.

"I need to talk to you when we're all done," Hoseok said. "Can we go to the alley?"

Yoongi smirked, shifting his weight, looking up at him—even with his stupid boots, the height difference was noticeable. "Didn't get enough the first time?"

"Didn't get any the first time," Hoseok said, "but no—I wanted to talk to all of you."

Yoongi glanced from side to side—Jungkook was approaching again, his cymbal case slung over his back, a few stands clutched beneath his other arm, and Namjoon was re-entering the bar to finish carrying out the rest of his gear.

"Yeah," Yoongi said, "once we have everything packed up, we'll meet you back there."

"Ok," Hoseok said. "Do you want any more help?"

"We got it," Yoongi said. "Go tell Jiyong we're gonna be out there for a little."

Jungkook gave Yoongi a look as he passed behind Hoseok, wondering what the hell they were talking about, and Namjoon quirked an eyebrow as he passed. Yoongi shook his head, waving the questioning looks away as Hoseok slipped over to the bar; he spoke for a moment and then Jiyong nodded to him, gesturing to the door that led to the stock room.

Yoongi continued out the front door, the cold air bracing as he headed to the SUV belonging to Namjoon's father; he packed his guitar in beside Jungkook's drums, tossing his cables on top of it.

"What was that about?" Jungkook asked, pushing his own cases further into the trunk.

"He wants to talk to us," Yoongi said, shrugging.

"About what?"

"I don't know," Yoongi replied. "To grovel and tell us how much better August is than his band?"

Jungkook huffed a short laugh, stepping back to make room for Namjoon, who piled the rest of his things into the truck as well.

"That's everything," Namjoon said. "You left your mic but I packed it up with mine. I'll give it to you later."

"Thanks," Yoongi replied, moving back as well; Namjoon shut the trunk and made sure it was locked before pocketing the keys.

"Ready to go?"

"Actually," Yoongi said. "Hoseok wanted to talk to us."

"Why?" Namjoon asked, and Yoongi rolled his eyes—but before he could say anything, Jungkook spoke.

"Let's go find out."

Yoongi shrugged and nodded toward the bar; together, they walked back in, filing past Jiyong at the bar to the stock room. The door to the alley was propped open by a beer bottle, and Yoongi kicked it out of his way as they entered the alleyway. Hoseok was waiting, leaning against the far wall, one foot propped up against the brick. Yoongi knew where he was standing—about two feet to the left of where they'd been just a week prior. He scanned the wall, to see if the remnants from their...rendezvous were still there, but he couldn't tell in the wan lighting.

None of them spoke for a long moment, Jungkook shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, arms still bare despite the frigid air, Namjoon taking off his glasses for a moment, to clean them on his shirt. Hoseok pushed off the wall, standing before them, but still, he remained silent.

"So, what did you want?" Yoongi asked, his bandmates flanking him, Hoseok directly in front of him.

"Well," Hoseok said, looking between the three of them, before letting his gaze settle back on Yoongi. "I guess I wanted to apologize."

Again, it fell silent for a long beat, until Jungkook spoke. "Why?"

"For...coming in and taking your usual timeslot," Hoseok admitted. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his coat, almost like he didn't know what else to do with them. "At first I didn't give a fuck what you wanted, honestly," he said, nodding to Yoongi. "You're kind of a real dick, you know that?"

Yoongi bristled a little; Namjoon put his glasses back on, convinced they were clean, and Jungkook actually snickered, because, well—it's not like Hoseok was wrong.

"This is an apology?" Yoongi said, cross.

"No. No. Look," Hoseok went on. "My band—we do pretty well. We only played here because—we wanted to try and expand to a new audience, and we figured, you know—the college crowd never hurts to appeal to. But we do pretty well without it."

"Is this the apology?" Namjoon asked, and Yoongi felt a burst of happiness in his stomach—these two were so loyal to him, to August—it was so much more than he could have ever asked of them. It made him proud to play music with them.

"I want to set you guys up," Hoseok said. "We've been talking to this guy, name's Sihyuk—he wants to manage us. I think he could help you too, if you're interested."

A different kind of silence fell, the full kind—the kind that was poised on a precipice, and going down either way meant something completely different. Yoongi held Hoseok's gaze for a long moment, unsure.

"That would make us competition," Yoongi said.

"Not necessarily," Hoseok replied. "You guys play music that's really different from Hope on the Street. We could just be...colleagues. Not rivals."

Looking back over his shoulder, Yoongi met Namjoon's eyes; he turned to look at Jungkook, but as he did, the youngest member of their band spoke.

"Why, though?" he asked, crossing his arms, resisting the urge to rub his hands over them for warmth.

To their surprise, Hoseok actually laughed a little, looking down at the ground for a moment before he lifted his head. "I can tell how much August means to you. To all of you. You live for being on the stage." He let a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. "It's how I feel when I play too—and everyone deserves a shot. My band does, and your band does. Let me get you a meeting with Sihyuk."

Yoongi bit his lip, feeling the slight twinge as his teeth worried the same spot from a week ago. "Can we have a second to talk about this?" Yoongi asked, already knowing their choice, already knowing that Namjoon and Jungkook would want to at least meet the guy.

"Yeah," Hoseok said. "Jiyong has my number, so just get it from him when you decide, let me know. But—look. You guys have worked hard enough. It's time for your fucking big break, already."

He gave them a nod; Jungkook and Yoongi stepped aside, letting Hoseok pass between them and head back inside the bar. The door clicked shut, the bottle no longer there to hold it open, and Yoongi turned to face the other two.

"Do we even need to talk about it?" he asked, trying not to sound as emotional as he felt—they'd wanted to do this for so long—never having even considered asking for help, or using their connections to other bands. "I guess we really do need a manager."

"Let's meet him," Namjoon said, his voice breaking as well, glad that this hurdle, at least, was going to be cleared. Their first meeting with a manager—it was a big one.

"I'll go get his number from Jiyong," Yoongi said, smiling despite himself—and hooking one arm over Namjoon and Jungkook's shoulders and giving them both a side hug, even though it made walking back into the bar damn near impossible.

hey man we just wanted to say thanks

Highlight. Delete.

hoseok, we all wanted to thank you

Highlight. Delete.

just realized i never thanked u




Yoongi watched as the message was delivered—and then Read 9:57PM appeared below it. Of fucking course Hoseok had his read receipts on.

all good. did the meeting go well then?

Yoongi sucked his teeth, considering the best way to reply. He knew what he wanted—but their one-on-ones had never actually gone that well.

yeah Yoongi sent, closing his eyes. He wanted to say much more, but he had no real reason to. Hoseok probably wouldn't even want—

His phone vibrated in his hand, and he looked down and swiped his phone open without reading the preview.

would love to hear about it sometime. maybe we can grab a drink after your set next week?

Yoongi swallowed, typing out ok before he could think better of it. Hoseok hadn't made an appearance at the bar again, at least not that Yoongi had seen—but the thought that he wanted to meet up for a drink was both encouraging and a little nervewracking. But—Hoseok couldn't hold any hard feelings. He'd gotten August the meeting with Sihyuk—their new manager.

see you thursday. Hoseok sent.

better not hear from jiyong u guys took our timeslot again

Part of him felt nervous about sending it—but he only smiled when Hoseok replied.

definitely not. learned my lesson, jiyong's bar is yours.

"You sure you don't want a ride?" Namjoon asked, slamming the trunk shut.

"Yeah," Yoongi said, stepping back up onto the low curb, balancing on the edge, the toes of his sneakers dipping down to touch the street. "I'm meeting Hoseok. Or, I'm supposed to be."

"You guys friends now?" Jungkook asked, shrugging on the hoodie he'd taken out of the backseat of the car and zipping it up against the nippy air.

"Not really," Yoongi said. "But kind of, I guess?" He shrugged, tucking his fists into the pockets of his Army jacket.

"Ok, well," Namjoon said, giving Yoongi a knowing look but not commenting further. "I'll hang onto your gear an you can come pick it up whenever."

"Thanks," Yoongi said, stepping back toward the door of the bar—Namjoon rounded the truck, climbing in, while Jungkook pulled open the passenger side door, sliding in as well.

Yoongi watched them take off, the SUV's old paint job dull in the streetlights. Part of him wished he'd kept his guitar—he hated having nothing to do with his hands and was seriously considering bumming a smoke off of one of the other bar patrons just to keep his fingers occupied, but then Hoseok appeared in front of him, newsboy cap and all.

"Hey," he said, his cheeks rounder than Yoongi had ever seen them before.

"You're late," Yoongi admonished him, scuffing the sole of his sneaker on the dirty sidewalk.

"Am not," Hoseok argued. "I was here the whole time—I watched your set."

"Too famous to help us pack up this time?" Yoongi asked, smirking.

"Caught me," Hoseok said, laughing, his breath puffs of white smoke in the night air. He gestured toward the door of the bar. "Let's go back in?"

Yoongi nodded, leading Hoseok inside. They stopped at a hightop table with a group of chairs set around it; Hoseok pulled his coat off and draped it over the back of the chair, placing his hat on his side of the table. Yoongi reluctantly followed suit, taking off his jacket as well. He hated these chairs—he was always convinced he was going to fall off of them, even though he could definitely reach the floor with his toes when he was sitting in one.

"What'll you have?" Hoseok asked, nodding when Yoongi asked for the cheapest beer on tap and heading over to buy the first round. Yoongi hopped up onto his chair, scowling when he realized that one of the legs was shorter than the others, rocking back and forth just enough to give him a sense of unease.

He sat there, forearms leaning against the edge of the table, until Hoseok came back, placing a glass of beer in front of Yoongi, and a smaller glass garnished with a lime wedge in front of his own seat.

Yoongi stared, watching as Hoseok sipped his drink—daintily, with his pinky finger sticking out. "What the fuck is that?"

Hoseok lowered his glass, making sure to put it on the cardboard coaster. "A vodka soda," he said. Yoongi made a point to move his glass to rest on the wooden surface of the table. "Problem?"

"No," Yoongi said, trying to decide how he wanted to angle himself in his chair so it wouldn't move. "You're just..." He paused, picking up his beer and taking a long draught. "Not what I'm used to."

Hoseok smirked, taking hold of the stirrer in his drink and circling the outside edge of his drink with it. "How so?" He didn't seem annoyed, or angry—he seemed curious.

"Well," Yoongi said. "For example. I never would have given up the timeslot for your band."

Hoseok picked the lime off of his glass and squeezed it into his drink, before dropping the fruit into it as well. "I feel like that's less a statement about your personality and more about how important August is to you."

Yoongi snickered, nodding. "Maybe so," he said, sipping his beer again. "But doesn't that imply you care less about your band than I do about mine?"

Mid-sip, Hoseok hummed to indicate his disagreement, lifting his free hand to raise one finger—he wanted to debate the point, not let Yoongi say anything else. "No! I don't think it does," Hoseok said, putting down his glass and then wiping the condensation clinging to his fingers on the sleeve of his sweater. "I think—and don't take this the wrong way—we...or maybe, our bands, are at two different places right now." Yoongi tapped his fingertips against the side of his glass. Hoseok went on. "You guys have a great following and decent exposure—but you needed everything you could get. Like you said—we took that from you. So...I think it isn't that I care less about my band than you care about yours," Hoseok said, summing it up. "I think it was just that I cared about your band even a little."

Yoongi leaned against the table, elbows pressed to the top as he took another long sip, draining the glass nearly the whole way. "That's—" he said, as he leaned back, and was immediately cut off as the chair wobbled a little. He gripped the table, and Hoseok surged forward to reach across the tabletop too, holding Yoongi's wrists to ensure he didn't fall, backward or otherwise.

"Drunk already?" Hoseok asked, laughing as Yoongi regained his balance, the remnants of his beer sloshing around in his glass.

"Fuck no," Yoongi said, but he couldn't help but laugh a little too, feeling like the ice was finally broken.

Hoseok released his wrists, sipping his drink again, licking the corner of his mouth as he put the glass down. "Honestly thought for a second you were gonna say 'fuck you' again."

Yoongi flicked his beer glass, the hollow sound of the glass audible even over the din of the bar. "Oh yeah?"

"Well, it worked out for you last time," Hoseok replied. He fit his hand around his glass, not quite lifting it from the coaster, but tipping it from side to side anyway, the ice tinkling together. "Me, not so much."

A smirk found its way to Yoongi's lips; he leaned one elbow on the table, letting his chin rest on the heel of his hand. "Maybe you should try saying it, then."

Hoseok met his eyes, holding his gaze as he tried to determine whether it was a real invitation or if Yoongi was fucking with him. He rolled his glass around on its bottom edge another two and a half times, then let it go. "Fuck you."

The smirk turned to a smile, and Yoongi slid off his chair, all too glad that his feet were back on solid ground. "Fuck me is right," he said, polishing off his beer before tugging his jacket off of the chair where it hung. "Hope you don't mind not doing it in an alley."

Yoongi shrugged his jacket back on, and Hoseok watched, unmoving—he'd felt tension between the two of them since their first conversation, though he'd been just a little mistaken about exactly what breed it was. But it seemed that it had only taken a slight shift to bring it from the wrong side to the right, for Yoongi to be willing give as good as he was going to get.

"And where are we doing it, exactly?" Hoseok said, shifting himself to sit sideways in his chair, taller than Yoongi still, even though he was sitting down.

"Your place," Yoongi replied, apparently not even giving it any thought. He buttoned up his jacket and stepped back, giving Hoseok room to stand.

"My place," Hoseok repeated, doing exactly what Yoongi expected of him—he stood, putting his hat back on and covering his red hair up, then slid his arms into the sleeves of his jacket. "Do you want to follow me there, or would you like to lead the way?"

"Fuck you," Yoongi countered immediately, but it was playful, the joke clear between them.

"That's the plan," Hoseok said—and then, hesitant, reached for Yoongi, splaying his hand out on his back, letting him walk in front out of the bar, into the cold air. It was the second time that Hoseok put Yoongi before himself and, quite frankly, Yoongi thought he could get used to it.

Seeing Hoseok's apartment for the second time didn't make it any less impressive—in fact, Yoongi almost shot another "Fuck you" at Hoseok, just on principle.

"Want another beer?" Hoseok asked, toeing his shoes off and stepping further into the apartment, leaving Yoongi by the door as he unbuttoned his jacket, bending down to untie his shoelaces.

"I'm good," Yoongi said, meeting Hoseok's eyes as he took Yoongi's jacket, hanging it up in the hall closet in the entryway—of fucking course this apartment had a closet in the entryway.

Hoseok just nodded, hanging his coat up as well, taking off his hat and gesturing for Yoongi to follow him. He tossed the hat onto the couch but they bypassed it, padding through the living room and down the short hallway; Hoseok stopped outside of one of the doors, letting Yoongi enter first.

As soon as he did, Hoseok crossed the threshold too, nudging the door half-closed behind him—and once it was out of his way, he tugged Yoongi's arm, pulling him close, then pushed him up against the wall. It wasn't too rough—it was just the right amount of manhandling. Yoongi tilted his head back, looking up at Hoseok, but he barely had a chance to focus on more than his chin because Hoseok was leaning into him, kissing him and crowding him up against the wall. It was just like the night in the alley, those few weeks ago, but at the same time worlds away. Yoongi melted into the kiss, his eyes closing as Hoseok's mouth moved against his, teeth closing down on Yoongi's lower lip, nipping just a little, just enough for him to feel it.

"Prick," Yoongi laughed out, and Hoseok let his forehead rest against Yoongi's for a moment, before he put his hands on Yoongi's shoulders, pushing him back against the wall.

"Watch your mouth," Hoseok said, holding Yoongi there—and for fuck's sake, the immobility was already turning him on, blood rushing between his legs.

"Or what?" Yoongi challenged.

"Or I'll give you something better to do with it," Hoseok replied, casually, as though he were talking about anything other than putting Yoongi's mouth to good use.

"I can think of at least three better things you could be doing than running your mouth," Yoongi said, and Hoseok’s eyebrows quirked, one corner of his mouth rising as well.

"You can?" he asked, and Yoongi nodded, their expressions mirrors of each other, almost like Hoseok wasn’t still holding Yoongi in place.

"I can," Yoongi replied.

"You really think so?" Hoseok countered—the exchange was playful but charged.

"Oh, yeah," Yoongi said, tongue flitting over his lip as Hoseok moved his leg, pressing it in between Yoongi’s and letting his thigh press against Yoongi’s crotch, leaning in to give him some pressure on his chubbed up cock.

"You want me to ask you to prove it, don’t you?" Hoseok said, enveloping Yoongi as he held him against the wall, their lips so close but neither of them closing the gap.

"Maybe." Yoongi lifted his chin, following Hoseok’s mouth as he straightened himself up, rising up over Yoongi, taller than him just by default.

"I think so," Hoseok said, tone smug. "And I think you’d like that too much."

"Define ‘too much,’" Yoongi requested, his upper back pushing back against the wall, his hips sliding forward to grind himself against Hoseok’s leg.

Hoseok only leaned further against him, and Yoongi loosed a gasp that he didn’t mean to. Reveling in the feeling of Hoseok’s thigh rubbing against his cock even with all the layers between them, he closed his eyes—so when Hoseok spoke again, his dark voice right beside Yoongi’s ear, he hadn’t expected it.

"I said it to you before. You think you’re a tough guy, don’t you?" Hoseok asked, and Yoongi actually almost shuddered. He wondered for a moment of Hoseok wanted an answer, because he certainly paused long enough for one, but then he was speaking again. "Wanna show me what a big tough guy you are?" Yoongi hesitated—then gave him an answer this time.

He shook his head no, squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure, openly grinding his cock against Hoseok’s leg now.

"That’s what I thought," Hoseok purred in his ear, and Yoongi’s next few breaths were shaky and shuddering, before he turned his face up to meet Hoseok’s eyes again. "Fuck, you could probably get yourself off just like this, couldn’t you, just rubbing up against me like that?"

Yoongi’s eyes slipped closed again but he nodded—he was beyond glad that Hoseok had been keen enough to discovered this little sliver of himself and was going along with it.

"Wanna just ride my thigh, baby?" Hoseok asked, and Yoongi nearly fucking broke—he moaned quietly.

"Yeah," he breathed, ready to do just that—but then Hoseok’s hands were gone from his shoulders, his thumbs pressing into the front of his hips instead, holding his ass back against the wall and keeping him still.

"I don’t think so," Hoseok said, stepping back, the absence of his leg between Yoongi’s obvious and sorely missed. "You can wait, how about that?" He lifted his bent index finger beneath Yoongi’s chin to angle his face up, placing a kiss on his lips that showed Yoongi, beyond a doubt, that this was all for him, just because he’d picked up on the cues Yoongi had been giving him in the alley, and here, now.

"No," Yoongi whined, trying to move away from the wall, chasing the sweet friction that Hoseok had been giving him just moments prior, but he was held in place.

"Yes," Hoseok said, releasing Yoongi and stepping back from in in one movement, turning away to cross the room to his bed. Yoongi stayed where he was, watching Hoseok hungrily—but he had to wait. He understood that much.

Hoseok took his time making his way to his bed, not even turning back to Yoongi as he undressed, unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off—Yoongi gasped a little, despite himself, realizing that he’d only ever seen Hoseok in items of clothing with long sleeves: coats, jackets, sweaters. But one of Hoseok’s arms was completely covered in a watercolor tattoo. It looked to be splashes of just color, more for design than meaning, but that seemed to fit Hoseok more than anything else. (The only experience Yoongi had of his own was a stick and poke tattoo that Jungkook had given him one night after their first show, years ago. It was supposed to be their band name, but they’d only gotten "AUG" finished before Yoongi decided he didn’t want to continue, the back of his shoulder sore as hell.)

The collared shirt landed in a pile on the floor, and his jeans came next, exposing his long legs—where he had even more ink. Yoongi licked his lips—it seemed as though Hoseok’s entire right side was tattooed, his arm brightly colored and his leg done too, the background matching his arm, the same swirling design. As Yoongi looked a bit closer, he realized there were actually black and grey music notes incorporated, his leg covered.

Hoseok took a seat on the side of his bed, glancing over at Yoongi as though he was an afterthought. "Come here," he said, and Yoongi didn’t need to be asked twice—he pushed off of the wall to approach Hoseok, even going so far as to attempt to sit on his lap, still wanting to ride his thigh, but Hoseok’s hands found his hips again and held him at arm’s length.

"Strip," he ordered.

Yoongi hurried to oblige, tugging his black t-shirt off and letting it go, dropping it on top of Hoseok’s shirt where it lay. His jeans were next—he balanced on each foot, tugging them off along with his socks, until he was left in his underwear, showing off his half-hard dick. He stopped, straightening himself up to stand before Hoseok, who snickered.

"I said, strip," Hoseok said, lowering his gaze to Yoongi’s still-covered groin. Yoongi felt his stomach flutter a little, but he hooked his thumbs into the elastic waist of his boxer-briefs and pushed them down, exposing himself to Hoseok. He bent a little at the waist, pushing his underwear down, and lowered his face as well, looking at himself. His cock was reddened at the tip, already wet with precome—fuck, he always got so eager and—

"Aw," Hoseok said, his tone just edging on biting. Yoongi lifted his face, quickly, but Hoseok wasn’t looking at his face. His gaze was settled between Yoongi’s legs. "You must really like me."

Yoongi let go of the waistband of his underwear, letting them fall to the floor around his ankles, but before he could step out of them, Hoseok had reached out, wrapping a hand around Yoongi’s cock and stroking it, slowly, smearing his precome all along his length. Yoongi bit back a whimper.

Humming, Hoseok kept his hand moving, his fingers just a little rough from his guitar playing—Yoongi’s felt the same, whenever he jerked himself off, so part of him liked it more than soft hands—but what he loved more than Hoseok’s touch was the words he chose to speak next.

"So wet," Hoseok said. Yoongi held his breath. "God, you’re dripping." The palm of Hoseok’s hand cupped the head of his cock, slick with precome, as he slid his fingers down Yoongi’s length again. He stopped there, letting his hand work over Yoongi, taking in how his thighs were trembling—but Yoongi wanted more than just Hoseok stating the obvious.

"Yeah," Yoongi sighed, hoping that just one word would be enough of a prompt. Hoseok’s eyes met his own for a moment, unspoken understanding passing between them, and then Hoseok’s lips curled into a smirk.

"Soaking wet," Hoseok said, testing the waters, and Yoongi nodded, giving him the ok to continue down that road. "If I left you in your jeans you’d soak through them." An exaggeration, maybe, but Hoseok paused. Yoongi’s hand curled into a fist, wanting it—needing Hoseok to take that last step. "Just like a girl."

Yoongi’s breath stuttered in his chest as he whined, Hoseok’s grip tightening on him as he jerked Yoongi off.

"Yeah," Yoongi said again, but when he did, Hoseok’s hand slid back up to the head of his cock, sipping right off. Yoongi jerked his hips forward like he would be able to fuck back into Hoseok’s hand, but he was wiping it on his bedspread, pushing himself back and spreading his legs.

"Sit," Hoseok said, and Yoongi was on him before he even finished the word, straddling his bare thigh. "Very good."

Yoongi arched his back a little, and Hoseok’s hand found his dick again, encircling it and giving him short, quick strokes as Yoongi worked his hips back and forth. That wouldn’t do anything for either of them on its own, really, but it allowed Yoongi to buck into Hoseok’s hand.

On top of Hoseok, resting on his knees, Yoongi was a bit taller than him; he ducked down to Hoseok’s level, letting their lips brush together and making Yoongi shiver before they kissed for real, Yoongi’s tongue licking into Hoseok’s mouth. Hoseok made a noise below him, a short grunt of pleasure, and Yoongi was spurred on. He kissed Hoseok a bit deeper, his hips still moving on Hoseok's thigh, moaning into his mouth as Hoseok's thumb curled around the head of his dick.

"Mm," Hoseok hummed against his lips, pulling away and giving the corner of his mouth a short peck. "Love feeling you like this," he said, letting the pad of his thumb slide over the wet slit in Yoongi's cock, precome leaking from him. "Love feeling you all wet for me."

Yoongi whined, lips parting as he stilled his hips, breaking away from Hoseok's kiss to look down his body. His thighs were straining, his cock shiny in the light from Hoseok's bedside lamp, and Yoongi loved it too.

"Keep—" he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Keep saying that."

"Saying what?" Hoseok asked, but his tone was knowing, his wet hand sliding over Yoongi's thigh, leaving a streak behind. "That you're fucking leaking for me, getting yourself all worked up, riding my leg?" Yoongi nodded, only getting himself more excited. He slid forward, closer to Hoseok, feeling the head of his cock brush against the fabric of the underwear he still wore—they were soft to the touch, he could tell, but the head of his cock was so sensitive that it felt rough, the friction nearly pulling a sob from his lungs.

"Wanna ride my cock instead?" Hoseok was going on, and Yoongi couldn't stop himself from reaching between his legs, jerking himself off, hand sliding easily over his heated skin. He cut Hoseok off, taking his lips in another hard kiss, a little too much teeth and tongue and not enough finesse, but Hoseok's hands had come to rest on his bare ass, kneading him and holding him open as Yoongi jerked himself off.

"You close, baby?" Hoseok asked, words quiet against Yoongi's lips, but still audible over his soft gasps and whimpers.

"Y-eah," Yoongi admitted, the word breaking as he spoke it—half because his lower half felt poised to snap, and half because Hoseok's hand had taken hold of his wrist, stopping him from moving.

"Enough," Hoseok said, tugging Yoongi's hand up and away from his cock, though he did let his fingertips trail over the head before he lifted them, wet with Yoongi, to his mouth to lick them clean.

"But—" Yoongi began, but Hoseok cut him off.

"I said, enough for now," Hoseok repeated, pushing Yoongi backward, though he did it slowly enough that Yoongi could regain his footing, as shaky as it was.

Reaching to take hold of Yoongi's hips, trying to turn him around on the spot, Hoseok said, "Let me open you up."

"Wait," Yoongi said, and Hoseok immediately retracted his hands, looking up at him for the proper way to proceed. His cheeks were flushed, his cock hard between his legs, body begging for release. "I want you to fuck me."

"I will," Hoseok said, reaching out for Yoongi again. "You rode my thigh so good, I wanna see how you ride my—"

"Not like that," Yoongi said. He licked his lip, not quite meeting Hoseok's eyes yet. Talking about how much precome had dribbled out of him was one thing—asking Hoseok to hold him down on his bed so he could writhe in his own mess was another.

"Then how?" Hoseok asked, his voice gentle, softer than it had been so far. "Whatever you want, it's fine."

Yoongi met his eyes, grateful that Hoseok was ok with what Yoongi wanted—but admittedly, he was having a bit of trouble articulating things. His mind was focused on his coiled arousal, his toes curling a little into the carpet before he was able to make himself step forward toward the bed.

"Gonna show me?" Hoseok asked, slipping back into the modified persona, giving Yoongi slight pause as he lifted one leg to climb onto the bed.

"Yeah," he answered, kneeling on the edge before making his way to the middle of Hoseok's bed, settling himself down on his front, his cock pressed between the scratchy fabric of the duvet and the front of his hip.

Hoseok leaned back to look at him—Yoongi could feel the bed dip a bit as he did—and hummed appreciatively, letting one hand move around Yoongi's thin calf, squeezing his leg.

"Like this?" Hoseok asked, and Yoongi propped himself up on his elbows, back arching as he nodded, looking back over his shoulder.

"I like it," Yoongi said, pausing for a moment to ensure that Hoseok would see what he was about to do—then rolled his hips down against the bed. The mattress moved as Hoseok climbed onto the bed for real, kneeling beside Yoongi, letting his fingers trail over his lower back. Yoongi lowered himself back down, crossing his arms beneath his face, resting his forehead on his wrist.

"Don't move." Hoseok's words were as soft as his touch—but it disappeared as he moved off of the bed. Yoongi heard him rummaging around in the bedside table—he turned his head just a little to watch, smiling despite himself. Hoseok's brow was furrowed, his lips pouting as he dug through the drawer—it made Yoongi wonder if that meant that this sort of thing, bringing someone home, was a rare occurrence. It made his chest tighten a little, matching the pressure in his groin.

Hoseok climbed back onto the bed, shifting Yoongi where he lay, the friction on his cock making him close his eyes, swallowing thickly. He closed his eyes as Hoseok pushed his legs apart, one of his legs coming to rest between Yoongi’s.

"What’s this?" Hoseok asked, and Yoongi wasn’t sure what he meant until he felt a hand splay out on the middle of his back, the fingertips of Hoseok’s other hand brushing over the back of his shoulder. "Abbreviating your own band’s name?"

Yoongi huffed, Hoseok’s weight on top of him feeling good, confining, even though he wasn’t laying on top of him, really.

"No," Yoongi said, correcting him. "It was—it just hurt."

Hoseok snickered, straightening himself up. "All you got is three little letters." He sat back, nearly resting on the back of Yoongi’s bare thigh, and pushed his legs further apart. "It couldn’t have hurt that bad."

Yoongi whined in response, not wanting to get into it—just then, or ever. Hoseok seemed inclined to let it go; Yoongi heard the plastic click of a cap opening, and then Hoseok’s hand was on his ass, spreading him apart and exposing his hole. "It’s cute," he commented, and even though Yoongi felt sure he knew exactly what Hoseok meant, there was still the possibility that he was referring to the tattoo. Both options still made Yoongi’s stomach flutter.

Hoseok’s thumb brushed over his hole, but as soon as Yoongi registered the touch, his finger was gone, replaced with the cold drizzle of lube as Hoseok squeezed it out onto him without even warming it first.

A sharp intake of breath was the only sound he made, trying to keep himself still even as it dripped down further, over his perineum and balls.

Hoseok’s thumb was back, circling his hole before he angled it against him, pushing shallowly inside. Yoongi whined, trying in vain to lift his hips off of the bed—but Hoseok’s free hand was on his lower back, holding him still.

"Don’t move," Hoseok said. "You don’t come until I tell you to, remember?" He fucked Yoongi with his thumb, slowly, stretching his hole with each inward thrust. Yoongi nodded, his forehead pressed against his arm still, his breath trapped between his face and the bed, warming his skin and flushing his cheeks.

It only took another few slides of his thumb before Hoseok pulled it out, replacing it with his middle and ring fingers, fucking them into Yoongi and spreading them apart to stretch him even further.

"Hoseok," Yoongi mumbled, turning his face to look up at him over his shoulder. "Ho—seok," he said, voice breaking, his cock swollen and hard, leaking beneath him, wetting the front of his hip. Once Hoseok moved him, he would see the wet spot beneath him—just the thought made Yoongi whimper to himself.

"Is that how bad you want it?" Hoseok asked, leaning forward, putting more of his weight on Yoongi’s back and, in turn, on his cock. Yoongi moaned louder, Hoseok’s fingers pumping in and out of him, his hips held firmly in place by the palm pressing down against him.

"Yes," Yoongi gasped out, trying to grind against the bed, his stomach sticky with precome, the fabric below him hot and wet.

"You have to earn it," Hoseok said, but absently, like he was paying more attention to something else than Yoongi trying to writhe beneath him—and it became clear just what that was when his index finger pushed in beside the other two, stretching him even further.

"Fuck," Yoongi half-sobbed, the word catching in his throat. "Please."

Hoseok hummed, toes curling as he tried to keep himself from rutting down against Yoongi’s leg between his own. Experimentally, he twitched his fingertips downward, wondering if he could find Yoongi’s prostate.

"Ah—" Yoongi gasped, pushing his ass up, against the weight on him, the fingers inside of him. "I’ll come, I’ll—Hoseok, I’ll—"

"Don’t," Hoseok said, repeating the action, rubbing against his prostate as Yoongi bit his lip, fighting to keep his composure, wanting to come so, so fucking bad, but wanting to obey Hoseok even more.

"Please fuck me," Yoongi begged, hoping Hoseok would listen to him, would just give it to him already—he was dying, and even with three fingers in his ass he still felt woefully empty, his cock stuck to his hip, spurting precome from the tip, surely staining Hoseok’s duvet the longer he was held down and teased.

"Yeah?" Hoseok asked, lifting his hand from Yoongi’s back, moving it to palm himself—he was getting there, but wanted to take a bit more time with Yoongi, wanted to draw this out as long as he could. "Are you close?"

"Yes," Yoongi said, without even thinking about it, just wanting Hoseok inside of him. "God, fuck, yes, I’m close." His breathing was coming in shaky gasps, and without Hoseok’s weight holding him in place, he twitched his hips into the bed.

"No," Hoseok said, lifting his hand from his own cock and taking hold of Yoongi’s hip, letting his fingers slip from his wet hole as he tugged him upward. "On your knees."

"Hoseok…" Yoongi’s voice was weak, but he did as he was told—Hoseok felt him adjust himself, rising up onto his knees. Hoseok stopped him before he could lift himself too far, stopping him—he could see the tip of Yoongi’s cock, red and soaking wet, just brushing against the darkened fabric of his comforter.

"Stay like this," Hoseok said.

Yoongi tightened up his abdomen, clenching muscle, as Hoseok climbed off of him, watching him.

"You look so good, Yoongi," Hoseok cooed at him, his fingers moving over him again, moving between his cheeks, down over his hole to toy with his perineum. "Nice and wet. Such a good boy for me."

His only response was a whimper, a nod, his hands curling into fists in the sheets, pulling them taut.

"Don’t come," Hoseok warned, thumb smoothing over his tight balls. "Not yet."

"I won’t," Yoongi said, but Hoseok could see how tense his thighs were, how the position was affecting him—and especially the way he was getting even more worked up from the head of his cock dragging over the bed below him each time he moved, even a little bit.

Hoseok wriggled off of the bed, pushing his briefs down, finally exposing himself after so goddamn long—Yoongi looked over at him, moaning at the sight of Hoseok’s thick cock.

"Like that?" Hoseok asked, smirking. "Knew you would. Bet you regret leaving the alley so quick now, don’t you?" He lowered his hand, wrapping it around himself as he worked it over his length in short, quick jerks. He just needed a little more, just a bit until he would be stiff enough to fuck into Yoongi, taking him and making him unravel just by his touch.

"Yeah," Yoongi admitted. "Just—making a point."

Hoseok laughed, almost derisive but not quite able to muster it. "Sounds about right," he said, voice cracking just a little. He decided to stop speaking, wanting to focus on the curve of Yoongi’s back instead, the way his ass was open and waiting for him, cock quivering, the underside of the head resting against the bed. He really was being so good for Hoseok—it wouldn’t do to keep him waiting any longer.

"You won’t come too soon?" Hoseok asked, and Yoongi was quick to answer with a vehement "No"—although, Hoseok wasn’t sure he was buying it. "I want to fuck you like you deserve," he said, voice low, and Yoongi closed his eyes at the thought of it, of Hoseok inside of him, stretching him out even further, his hips slapping into his ass, front rocking against Yoongi’s back—

"I won’t," Yoongi said, lifting his hips up a bit further, even as Hoseok took his place behind him. He could hear the tear of the condom foil being opened, and then the next thing he knew, Hoseok’s hands were back on him, forcing his front back against the bed. He whined at the friction, the pressure clamping his jaw shut to keep himself from bucking against the bed, the sweet release of his orgasm so fucking close and yet so fucking far, if he wanted to keep his word to Hoseok—and he did.

The blunt head of Hoseok’s cock brushed against his thigh, slick with lube, and Hoseok’s fingers slid up over his ass, thumbs pushing into the skin to pull him open, his hole gaping just a little.

"Hold yourself for me," Hoseok said, nearly grunting the words. He didn’t even have to wait—Yoongi shifted himself, arms moving around his back to splay out on his ass, pulling his cheeks apart so Hoseok could guide the head of his cock between them too, moving into his hole easily. He’d slicked himself up with a liberal amount of lube, easing the slide into Yoongi; it felt like he was sucking Hoseok in, more than just wanting his cock deep within him, but needing it.

He was tighter and warmer than Hoseok had anticipated—he needed a moment to collect himself as Yoongi squeezed down on him, or maybe because of it.

"Hoseok," Yoongi mewled, high and needy. It took him a moment to register it, lost in the building pleasure just as Yoongi’s muscles worked at him from the inside—but before he moved out of him, he lowered himself to lie on top of Yoongi instead, his front pressed to Yoongi’s back, mouthing at his neck already, nipping at his earlobe as he pulled out, rolling his hips back in, fucking him slow and deep.

Yoongi sighed, sated, his cock trapped between his front and the bed again, the friction as Hoseok moved into him getting him off slowly, a prickling feeling beginning in his lower abdomen and spreading through his whole body. It built slowly, Hoseok not fucking him as much as letting his cock move in and out with each movement of his hips; Yoongi could tell already that the gradual build would escalate exponentially—he would come soon, even though he’d promised Hoseok he wouldn’t.

"Go," Yoongi breathed, Hoseok’s lips on his shoulder, kissing the half tattoo there. "Faster. Hard—Harder." His voice quavered, but Hoseok listened to him, nipping at the skin of the nape of his neck, before bracing himself against the mattress a bit, fucking Yoongi in earnest now, quicker and harder, the sound filling the room over Yoongi’s whines and Hoseok’s loud breathing.

"You’re so good," Hoseok said, gruff, in Yoongi’s ear, nuzzling the back of his neck as he fucked into him in one swift movement, bottoming out and then grinding against Yoongi, their bodies pressed so tightly together it was hard to tell where one of them ended and the other began.

"I’m close," Yoongi wailed lowly, eyes squeezed shut, and Hoseok licked the shell of his ear.

"Go ahead," Hoseok said, granting him the permission he’d wanted for so fucking long. "Go ahead, baby, let me feel you—"

The sentence didn’t even make it fully out before Yoongi was pushing back up into him, moaning, his hands back on the bed and sliding up over the sheets; one of his hands caught for a moment in the wet spot he’d made, precome pooling into the sheets. His palms moved up the bed, hands disappearing beneath Hoseok’s pillows as his body finally tensed and then snapped, come spurting out of his cock, warmth spreading below him as Hoseok fucked him through it, slowing himself down again, letting Yoongi’s spasming hole milk his own orgasm from him, even though he wasn’t quite close enough yet—but he was getting there.

"Don’t pull out," Yoongi gasped, pressing the side of his face to the pillows, too. "Want you inside me—feels good—"

Hoseok groaned in response, lifting himself up off of Yoongi, using the new position to give him the leverage he needed to fuck him for real, hips pistoning into him, Yoongi’s back twisting and arching as he tried to get his face close enough to Hoseok’s to kiss him—their mouths finally met, Hoseok licking Yoongi’s lips as he pounded into him, Yoongi whining against his mouth, eyes rolling back at the overstimulation, the friction so fucking much, his legs twitching even as his cock softened beneath him.

"Go ahead," Yoongi whispered, his voice scratchy but soft. "Let—" he paused, having to stop himself as he swallowed, thickly, Hoseok’s rhythm faltering as he neared his end. "Let me feel you."

"Fuck," Hoseok bit out, his nose brushing Yoongi’s as he filled the condom, his hips stuttering forward into him. He rode it out on top of Yoongi, their breathing labored in the silence of Hoseok’s bedroom before he finally pulled out, slowly, carefully—once he was clear of Yoongi, shuffling over to the side of his bed, Yoongi rolled the fuck over, his cock red and covered in his own spunk. He whined as his hip rested in the mess he’d made, but Hoseok eased the condom off of his length and tied it off before turning back to face Yoongi, reaching over to smooth his hand over his thigh.

"You ok?" Hoseok asked, and Yoongi nodded, rolling onto his back, parting his legs to give himself some relief, his body finally able to relax again—Hoseok had kept him on edge for a long, long while.

"I’m ok," Yoongi replied, pressing his head back into the pillow, burrowing into its coolness. "You ok?"

Hoseok hummed, smiling. "Yeah, I’m ok. Let’s just get the covers off, then you can sleep, ok?"

Yoongi considered it, shifting himself a little, and grimacing at the wetness beneath him—it had been hot as fuck before, but now, it just felt clammy and unpleasant. "Yeah."

Patiently, Hoseok waited for Yoongi to move off of the bed and together, they stripped the duvet off (Hoseok making sure that the sheets below were dry; Yoongi laying back down, too tired to care).

They would need to change the sheets in the morning, the pair of them still a little dirty, a little grungy, but Yoongi snuggled into Hoseok, muttering "Goodnight" into his neck, and in that moment—despite their rocky beginning—he found nothing much else really mattered.