“What do you mean, you’ve never been kissed before?”
The two men on the couch pulled apart in surprise, arms and legs loosely entangled, lips puffy and swollen from a recent make-out session. They stared up at their boyfriend.
“I—“ Yoongi started, shyly looking down at his socked feet. He stood in front of the pair, having walked in on them, again, having some… personal time. He peeked up at a ruffled Jimin and Hoseok before averting his eyes to over their shoulders towards the open window. There was the sight of the brick building across the way, blocking any type of decent view. His brow furrowed. “You heard me,” he gruffed out, finally.
Jimin stood up, disentangling himself from a still shell-shocked Hoseok, before making his way over to his newest lover. “Yoongi, babe…”
“D-Don’t babe me,” Yoongi hissed as he turned away, Jimin’s hand that was undoubtedly reaching to cup his face falling down by the younger’s side. “I— I just haven’t done as much as you guys, that’s all. N-No big deal, nothing to see here, folks.”
Jimin frowned as he watched Yoongi walk off and down the hallway. The last thing he saw before he disappeared from sight was the blaring red of the back of his neck.
“Jiminnie?” Hoseok whispered, coming up from behind and hugging Jimin to his chest, arms tight around his waist. His eyes zeroed in on his boyfriend’s downturned lips. “Are you—“
“Ahhh!” came a yell. “He’s so pure and cute and innocent, Hobi-yaaah!” Jimin spun in his hold suddenly, his small hands covering his face as he spoke loudly into them. “I just want to eat him up! Why is he like this?”
“Pure? Innocent? Um, I think the word you’re looking for is ‘vanilla,’” Hoseok responded wryly.
“Shut up! You can be fun and vanilla! Nothing wrong with that!”
“I never said hyung wasn’t fun.” Hoseok pulled Jimin’s hands away from his face before giving him a placating kiss to the tip of his nose. “He’s dating us, right? That’s the epitome of a good time!”
Jimin mulled this over for a few seconds before a tiny grin lifted his lips. Hoseok pecked him on the corner of his mouth. “You’re right. But still…” Jimin’s voice turned downcast, “having gone twenty-five years without a single kiss? Poor hyung has no idea what he’s missing out on.”
“Whelp.” A wicked smirk took over Hoseok’s face. “I guess its up to us, his two loving boyfriends, to let him know.”
Jimin sat across the wooden table from Yoongi. There were scratches and carvings in the old wood from years of patrons sitting in their very same spots. Jimin absently wondered, as his hands curved around his heated mug, how many of those people sat here with such purely impure reasons as he.
His head jerked up, shaken from his musing. “Yes, babe?”
“Don’t ‘babe’ me,” they both said in unison, Yoongi sounding like a broken record, Jimin sounding extremely tickled at how adorably predictable his boyfriend was.
That startled Yoongi, not expecting the slight teasing. He coughed into his fist. “Are you gonna drink that?” He coughed again, voice shy and light, “I— I don’t want your drink to get cold.”
I really will eat you up one day, Min Yoongi, Jimin sighed. On the outside, Jimin just responded, “Of course, my love.”
Yoongi didn’t pay his companion much mind after that, too busy hiding his warmed cheeks behind the screen of his phone. He knew it was rude, especially while on a date, but he couldn’t stop one hand on the table from drumming a beat that was eerily similar to the pace of his racing heart. He would never get over how… cheesy Jimin was with his affections.
It was honestly one of the main reasons he was attracted to the dancer.
(Not that you heard it from him.)
“Oh, my,” came Jimin’s honeyed voice, laced with mild surprise. “I think I may have something on my face?” A warm hand fell over his, successfully silencing his tapping and effectively capturing his attention.
“Huh— What the hell?”
Jimin was staring cross-eyed, eyes rounded and comical as he tried to get a good look at his lips. Said lips were pushed out like a fish as he twisted and turned them to find a better angle. That’s not what Yoongi was staring at, though. Even more ridiculous was the foamy white mustache adorning his boyfriend’s top lip; even a smidgen was plopped on his nose.
Jimin slyly leaned forward, top half of his torso practically splayed out across the width of the table, as he got closer for Yoongi’s inspection. “Do I? Have something on my face, I mean? Can you maybe… get it, babe?”
There was a devious look in the younger’s eyes as they trained onto Yoongi’s face. He didn’t know what was suddenly so interesting about his own face but Yoongi knew the look had his stomach twisting in knots. “D-Don’t b-b-b—”
Jimin’s gaze instead began flickering between Yoongi’s eyes and down to the lower half of his face, watching as the man stuttered himself silly. “Yes, babe?”
Yoongi must have panicked, shut down, aborted mission, something. Next thing Jimin knew, he had a face full of brown recycled napkins with scrawled print on them saying please, keep the environment safe!
“I can’t believe I’m dating such a slob!” Yoongi exclaimed. “Damn it, Minnie, don’t be nasty, clean yourself up, why don’t you? You’re not a child.” Yoongi shook his head before throwing it back in a moan. He picked up his own mug and walked off to deposit it back at the dish return counter, not even waiting to see if Jimin followed.
Jimin was so sure that would have worked. It always did in the dramas he and Hoseok watched on the weekends. He folded his arms, petulant enough to sit in public with what probably were once old newspapers stuck to sticky cream and chocolate drizzle on his face.
Or maybe Yoongi was just stupid.
“Maybe he just sucks at taking a hint?” Hoseok said from behind Jimin where he was lathering his boyfriend up with sunscreen. They had chosen the beach to hang out on one of those rare days where they all had time off. “Maybe we have to be more direct?”
Jimin pouted as he looked over to their boyfriend a ways away digging a hole in the sand to stick an umbrella in. Jimin told him if he set up by himself he promised not to unceremoniously throw the elder into the waves. (He didn’t say anything about ceremoniously, though.) “Well, any better ideas, sweets?”
“Hmm…” Hoseok’s fingers thrummed against Jimin’s bare shoulders before giving them a slight squeeze. “I’ll think of something.”
Except “think,” by Hoseok’s definition, was synonymous with “wing it,” and he proved this an hour later.
“Yoongi! Oh, shit! Oh, fuck! Help! I’m dying! Heeeeelp!”
Yoongi jumped up from where he was dozing on a towel, shades falling off the tip of his nose as he whipped his head left and right. “H-Hoseok? Jimin? Wh-What?”
Jimin ran up to him, tugging on his arm and hauling him up off the sand. “Hyung! Hurry! Ho-Hobi is— We were playing out by the riptides and I— Please hurry!”
Jimin’s frantic screaming and pushing snapped Yoongi out of his post-sleep daze and into action. He threw down his towel and headphones before taking off at a tight run across the sand towards where Jimin was pointing.
“Hurry, babe! He needs you! I know you can do this right this time!”
Yoongi was too focused on moving his legs in a way that kept him going across the unstable sand. He didn’t notice the trill of tinkling laughter that undoubtedly echoed Jimin’s strange words.
As Yoongi approached the edge where the sand met the sea he saw Hoseok splashing and kicking in the shallow water. It barely went up to the man’s chest but for Hoseok, someone who abhorred swimming, it was more than enough to get Yoongi’s heart pacing in worry. “Seok!”
“Yoon—“ he was cut off as a wave came in, hitting him full in the face. “Yoongi! Help!” Hoseok yelled as soon as he popped back up, spluttering water from his mouth.
“Oh, shit. I’m coming, Seok-ah! H-Hang on!” Yoongi took a deep breath before launching himself towards the ocean—
Just as another wave came in, this one three times as powerful as the one before. Yoongi skidded to a halt and momentarily covered his face with an arm to protect his eyes from the spray. When he dropped his arm, though, Hoseok was nowhere to be found. “Seok! Oh, my gosh, Seok! Jimin!”
Without another moment to lose, he threw himself into the cold water, eyes open for any sign of Hoseok. The saltiness burned his eyes and gritty sand was most definitely scraping his knees raw in the waist-high water but he was determined. He wouldn’t leave without Hoseok.
Luckily, it was very easy to locate the struggling man. Just a few inches under the water, Hoseok was twisting and turning with seaweed draped across his torso and ankles, anchoring him to the bottom. Urgently, Yoongi ripped them away and tugged Hoseok up and above the water’s surface by two hands under his armpits.
“Seok, what the fuck— Hoseok?”
He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t clinging to Yoongi, or yelling at him for taking so long, or even complaining about how much he truly hated the beach. He wasn’t doing much of anything. He was deadweight in Yoongi’s arms. His eyes were closed and lips barely parted, face encrusted with sand. “Ah, shit. Don’t you die on me, Seok!” Yoongi looked around but didn’t see his youngest boyfriend anywhere. “I swear to fuckin’— I’m not going to be the one to tell Jimin and your parents you let two feet of water do you in.” Despite all his brash words, Yoongi was actually having a meltdown on the inside. As he pulled Hoseok completely onto the dry sand and laid him down on his back, Yoongi felt like his heart was splintering into a thousand pieces and his blood was running slow and thick through his veins.
Pulling on all the knowledge he could scrap together in seconds of frantic thinking, Yoongi tilted Hoseok’s head back and placed the heels of both his hands over Hoseok’s still sternum. Just then, Jimin decided to pop up.
“Hyung! What’s going on? What are you going to do?”
Not having much time to question where the hell Jimin decided to go when their precious boyfriend was drowning, Yoongi grunted out instead, “Move back, I’m going to perform CPR. Give me a time.”
“Uh,” he looked down at his phone, “three-twenty-seven. Are you going to do mouth-to-mouth?” Jimin sounded slightly confused but also a tad bit giddy, as if he were anticipating something. He placed a shaky hand on Hoseok’s shoulder.
“No,” was Yoongi’s curt reply as he started chest compressions.
“Wait, what? Why not!”
In answer, Yoongi turned Hoseok onto his side as a sudden wave of spit and water came out of his mouth and spilled onto the sand below him.
“The book says mouth-to-mouth is a preference, not a necessity for resuscitation. ”
With that, Yoongi swiped his shades from where they were partially buried under a sandcastle and went back to his shaded towel.
Or maybe Yoongi was smarter than they thought.
“I almost fucking drowned for this, it better fucking work.”
“Sweets,” Jimin consoled for the nth time, “you were faking.”
“Yeah, but I had to swallow a shit-ton of salt water to make it more realistic.” Hoseok bumped the freezer door closed with his shoulder and walked over to his boyfriend. “You try holding something that bitter on your tongue while someone bangs on your chest!”
Jimin reached for one of the ice pops in Hoseok’s hand. Peeling back the white plastic wrapper, he mumbled under his breath, “Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve done that…”
“I’m ignoring you,” Hoseok deadpanned.
Jimin leaned against the edge of their kitchen island, pulling Hoseok in by the waist so he was tucked warmly into his side. “Anyway… Should we call hyung?”
Unwrapping his own ice pop, Hoseok smirked greasily before yelling, “Yoongi-chi! Come to the kitchen!”
“What did I say about calling me that!” His voice came seconds before Yoongi rounded the corner, hair disheveled like he’d jumped right out from under the covers to storm over to his boyfriends.
Jimin clucked his tongue. “You said don’t call you ‘babe.’ Didn’t say anything about ‘Yoongi-chi,’ my sweet Yoongi-chi.”
Yoongi just visibly deflated on the spot, knowing a lost battle before it even started. “Whatever. Why’d you call me, Seokie?”
“Try my popsicle?”
There was silence as Yoongi looked from the frozen confection in Hoseok’s grip then up to his eyes, then over to Jimin’s smiling face. “What? That’s it?”
Hoseok reached over the island, Popsicle waving in Yoongi’s direction as he waggled his eyebrows enticingly. “Eh?”
“You…” Yoongi’s brow was furrowed in delicate confusion and agitation. “You woke me up for that?”
“You weren’t sleep, stop lying,” Jimin interrupted, his own ice pressed between his lips as he slurped and talked messily around it. “I could hear your keyboard clacking from here. I keep telling you that you need to either cut your nails or get a keyboard cover but do you ever listen? Nope!” This last word was emphasized by Jimin’s mouth making a pop! noise as he pulled the treat out. “So, do you want to try or naw?”
Yoongi walked closer to the duo before tentatively reaching for Hoseok’s bright green and orange striped icicle, bringing it up to his face for an interested sniff. “What flavor?”
Sending Jimin a grin over his shoulder Hoseok couldn’t help but feel elated, the emotion mirrored back at him as Jimin peered over his teller boyfriend’s shoulder for a better view. This was it; this plan was going to work! Project: Indirect Kiss. “Lime and tangerine,” Hoseok replied smugly.
Yoongi promptly pushed it back into his grip, Hoseok barely managing to catch it before it fell. “Naw, I don’t like that flavor. I’m good.” Yoongi moved to head back to the bedroom.
“Wait!” Yoongi turned towards Jimin, the younger flailing his arms frantically. “Uh, um, don’t go! Wh— I… What about mine?” He proffered his own Popsicle, this one pink and yellow, the tip slightly melted to a point from the heat of Jimin’s mouth. “Lemon and pink lemonade! A classic! Can’t go wrong with that, right?” There was a nervous tremor to his words, eyes wide as he smiled in feigned innocence.
“Ew.” Yoongi scrunched up his nose in distaste, taking a step back. Then another. He was almost out of the door. “That one is even nastier.”
The sound of the bedroom door closing echoed Jimin’s affronted scoff. “Hyung!”
“Let’s go to France!” Hoseok flung himself on his hyung who had been splayed across their brown couch as he scrolled through the music channels on the television.
Yoongi let out an oomph! as his boyfriend used his stomach as a landing pad. “How about we go to, I don’t know, the empty spot on the couch instead? The floor, maybe?”
Hoseok giggled as he snuggled even deeper into Yoongi’s embrace because of course Yoongi had instinctively wrapped his arms around his lover, despite his cold words.
Yoongi nuzzled the top of his head, inhaling the rainy scent. “Why France, Seokie? What’s there?”
“I’m glad you asked, Yoongi-chi, but I have a better question!” Hoseok chirped up, lifting his head to see Yoongi’s expression. “Do you know what the French are famous for?”
Hoseok waited with bated breath as Yoongi mulled it over. There really was only one answer to this question, even an idiot would know, and Hoseok anticipated the moment he could swoop and show Yoongi first hand what it was like to have a real French Ki—
Hoseok’s daydream of a perfect kiss in front of the Eifel Tower at night with swanky music trilling through the air came to a screeching halt. “What?”
“Toast? What the French are famous for, right?”
“Uh,” Hoseok began, lifting himself on his elbows, ignoring the little grunt Yoongi released at the pressure on his chest. “Try again?” Really, it was only fair to give a second chance—
—And a third.
It seemed Hoseok would never find an opening to suggest maybe practicing.
“Practicing for what, Seokie?”
“P-Practicing? My, did I say that out loud?” Hoseok gave a nervous chuckle, ready to abort mission as he slid down Yoongi’s body and in the direction of the floor. Maybe if he moved fast enough he could ask Jimin to take over this plan before shit hit the fan.
“Wait, oh shit, I’m so sorry, Seokie!” Yoongi tightened his arms, effectively cutting off Hoseok’s escape as the younger hesitantly looked back at him. “That wasn’t the answer you were looking for, was it? Damn. Hmm…” he contemplated for a second, absentmindedly rubbing circles along Hoseok’s back. “You said practice… Practice… Ah, I wonder what the French are known for that you would need to practice…?”
Hoseok felt a light sweat pebble on his temples. He had no clue where this was going at this rate but hoped it ended with wet tongues and swollen lips. That was the ideal way out of such an embarrassing situation. He held his breath.
“Aha! I know!”
Hoseok gulped. “Y-You do?” He licked over his lips, mouth suddenly dry.
Yoongi’s face was taken over by a crafty grin, looking every bit like the cat that had caught the canary. Hoseok couldn’t stop himself from staring at the elder’s curved lips just a few inches away even if his heart stopped. Which was indeed a possibility with the way it stuttered in his chest.
“Yeah, Seokie…” whispered Yoongi. His eyes also were caught on Hoseok’s tongue, tracing along the path it had gone.
This is it, Hoseok thought as he felt Yoongi’s hands grip the fabric of shirt. He’s going to kiss me now. Closing his eyes, Hoseok anticipated the warm press against his mouth that he’d been waiting for since the night Yoongi agreed to join in his and Jimin’s relationship.
But what he got instead was the hard jab of the armrest on his way down to the hardwood floor.
“The fuck, Yoon—“
“Mimes!” Yoongi was standing up and bouncing on the balls of his feet, having pushed Hoseok off of him in his excitement, paying no mind to his boyfriend’s exaggerated frowning and rubbing of his arm. “The French have mimes! Hoseok, I love mimes! Why didn’t I think of this sooner?” He threw his hands up in the air. “We have to practice being mimes! Wait, I need to dig out my old mime costume from my college club. I hope it still fits.” The last was spoken worriedly as Yoongi stepped over Hoseok’s form on his way to his room and undoubtedly his closet full of weird shit he hoarded from his better days.
It was only after Jimin came in from where he was observing this whole shit show from the safety of the bathroom that Hoseok snapped out of his indignant shock. He gaped at his boyfriend’s outstretched hand before being pulled up from the floor.
Glaring at Jimin’s mirth and giddiness at Hoseok making a fool of himself, Hoseok said through clenched teeth, “And the worst part is mimes are a stereotype, Jimin!”
“This is our last plan, Minnie-Me. You are our only hope to capture those beautifully pink and thin-as-all-hell lips.” He massaged Jimin’s shoulders, hyping his young boyfriend up to the task. “I believe in you. You’re the alluring and conniving man I fell in love with. This will be a piece of cake. Now, go in there and kiss our boyfriend, tiger!”
With a shove to his shoulder blades, Jimin was propelled out of their shared bedroom and into the hallway where Yoongi had been standing for some time now, observing one of the many gorgeous hanging photos Taehyung had gifted them at the trio’s housewarming.
Despite all the confidence he’d just spent building up, Jimin couldn’t contain the little squeak he’d let out as he fell into a solid and warm chest.
“Minnie? What happened?” Yoongi righted Jimin so that he was more stable on his feet. “You have to be more careful on these carpets, dear. You know they bunch up at times.”
Dear. Yoongi had called him “dear.” This was going to be harder than he’d thought.
“I—I.” There was a lump in his throat. Jimin chanced a look behind him and back towards the bedroom. He saw Hoseok peering back, hidden behind the doorframe. He mouthed fighting, and gave thumbs up encouragingly.
Jimin, cheeks flared a natural red, cleared his throat before tossing his all into this performance. It’s now or never, he thought. Do it for the kiss. For love.
Coyly shuffling his feet in the way he knew his boyfriends usually cooed at, Jimin stepped his feet one on top of the other. Hoseok had dressed him in his knee-high striped monkey print socks with the animated yellow bananas and individual toe parts just for the occasion. “Y-Yoongi-chi?” He let a light lisp color the name, Busan dialect thick on his tongue and voice pitched just an octave or two higher.
“I, um… Y-Yoongi-chi?” he repeated, this time being as demure as possible, tucking his chin down and even twisting his small fingers into the hem of his baby blue t-shirt and pulling it taut and slightly away from his body, a hint of his soft tummy flashing. He noticed Yoongi’s breath hitch, his chest jerking with the motion.
“Um, yes, dear?”
Dear. There it was again. Jimin inwardly grinned. Or groaned. Whatever. “I’m so cooold,” he whined out, pouting his lips out and pretending to shiver delicately. “Yoongi-chi, keep me warm? Please?” Immediately, just like how they’d planned, Yoongi reached out and pulled Jimin into his arms.
“Ah,” Jimin gasped out as his body became flush against the other’s. He made sure to turn his cheek so his breath teased playfully along Yoongi’s collarbones. His own hands he lifted up to clutch at the elder’s shirt. “Yoongi-chi?
Yoongi just carded a hand through Jimin’s locks, tucking one behind his ear. “Better?”
Jimin practically purred. Yeah, this was all a part of his and Hoseok’s scheme but there were few things better than being coddled by his boyfriend. Especially willingly. Jimin felt his blush spread. After a beat he realized Yoongi was waiting for a response.
Although he’d be perfectly content being held—being slowly rocked, oh goodness, be still, heart—Jimin found being coquettish always did wonders on his lovers’ resolves and he had a bigger picture to complete. He looked up at Yoongi, making sure to bend his knees to up the height difference a little for affect. Fluttering his lashes, he willed any moisture he had to well up and mist his eyes a bit. Jimin was always one for dramatics and he rarely did things half-assed.
“You…” he began. “Y-You know how else you can keep me w-warm, babe?” He traced a circle right over Yoongi’s heart before tapping on it. His eyes zeroed in on Yoongi’s lips with intent, projecting his message clear as day, basically blaring it from a sound system. He had to hold himself back from nosing at Yoongi’s chin, refusing to be distracted from the mini staring contest he’d drawn the elder in.
“Warmer?” came Yoongi’s question on a breath.
“Mmhm.” Gone was the high pitch and in came what Jimin was better at. Low, dirty, and sultry. “Warmer, babe.” His fingers tap tap tapped up from Yoongi’s chest, making their slow ascent in preparation to cradle the back of Yoongi’s heated neck.
“You’re right! I know just what you need, Jiminnie. I’ll go grab your jacket from the car.”
Hoseok exaggeratedly sobbed out his misery from his hiding place, wailing to the heavens of love and lust forsaking them as Jimin found himself flat on the floor, face squished into the stupid, rippled burgundy carpet.
Damn it, Yoongi. At least you could have thrown me gently.
Hoseok and Jimin were in a sour mood. They were in the kitchen, bodies pressed together at the hips and shoulders and leaning their forearms similarly against the marble kitchen island as they glared over into the living room where their boyfriend lived his life sunshine-y and bright.
Without ever being kissed.
And the ones who had years of make-out experience had a gray cloud over their heads for weeks now. Go figure.
“Kiss me, Jiminnie,” Hoseok grumbled.
It had been like this since their last failed attempt at stealing Yoongi’s first kiss. Neither of them really was in the mood to kiss if they couldn’t convince Yoongi to join in. They barely remembered a time where it was satisfying with just the two of them.
Their frowns turned into petulant pouts. They wanted Yoongi.
Over in the living room, the sight of his puppy, Holly, who had come to visit from his parents’ house, entranced Yoongi. The little cute boy was yapping and jumping in circles around Yoongi’s feet as his owner pointed a laser toy around. Holly tried to catch the red light only for Yoongi to swerve it at the last second, causing the puppy to growl out in frustration before doubling his efforts. Yoongi giggled and cackled and cooed.
It was too cute.
“Why doesn’t he act that way with me, sweets?” Jimin asked.
“You’re not a dog.”
They lapsed back into silence watching the sight in front of them. Slowly, the two stopped sulking and eventually started smiling, adoration bubbling hot and wild in their chests, escaping in the form of lovesick grins.
Hoseok sighed. “I love him, Minnie-Me.”
“Yeah,” he reached a hand out to entwine his fingers with Hoseok’s, “me too.”
Yoongi scooped up his dog after realizing that playtime was sadly over. Holly was starting to pant heavily, little feet not being able to catch up with all the excitement of an evening with his owner after so long. It was like watching a father with his son.
The duo in the kitchen sighed again.
But then something happened that had them propelling themselves out of their leisurely lean into ramrod-straight posture.
After picking up the small bundle of fur, Yoongi kissed it. Kissed it.
Him, Min Yoongi, was actually using his lips for something other than sass and snark!
Yoongi startled at the outburst, not knowing which one of his boyfriends exclaimed it before they both barreled over to him, hands clasped together in the middle. But, more concernedly, the hands that weren’t gripped white at the knuckles were instead pointing accusingly at him.
Defensively, Yoongi barked out, “What? What’s wrong with you two? Stop pointing at me like I salted your crops, guys!”
“And with Holly, of all people—”
“After all the—”
“I tried so hard, hyung, you have no idea—”
“I can’t breath through the blatant betrayal—”
“It hurts, I am wounded, I can’t go on like this!”
Hoseok and Jimin were screeching over each other, words jumbling into disorder, limbs gesturing and pointing and flailing like they had something to prove.
They were scaring poor Holly so with an exasperated huff Yoongi put his precious dog down and watched him scurry away to the bedroom. He kind of wanted to follow.
His lovers were still speaking loudly, bordering on an argument if Yoongi let it go on any longer.
Wiping the back of his hand across his forehead, he took a deep breath, holding it... holding it…
He released as he walked forward, expertly avoiding any collisions with wayward body parts. If there was one thing Yoongi had learned in the six months since he’d joined in on their relationship it was how to dodge and dip to get into their space comfortably.
And that’s what he did.
“Hey,” he quipped as Hoseok and Jimin paused in their ranting to stare at the little man suddenly in their bubble, commanding all their attention.
Jimin and Hoseok had a strange sense of déjà vu.
Yoongi just had a way of doing that, of turning Hoseok and Jimin away from each other and towards them all instead, of drawing them in to him.
Like he was doing now, a hand on each of their chins as he pulled them closer and closer to him.
And towards his lips.
It was awkward, it was messy; Yoongi had too much ChapStick on and Jimin had too much lipstick and Hoseok, well, Hoseok was a little overeager and stuck his tongue out even though it wasn’t that kind of kiss.
But, as Jimin squealed out an ew! and Hoseok bumped his hip cockily into his younger lover’s, and Yoongi grunted from the pressure of two cheeks squishing uncomfortably against his own because he didn’t think this out so well, why?!
But, as unplanned and unexpected and uncoordinated as it all was, it was pretty sweet, because not only did Yoongi get to experience his first kiss when he was ready to give it away, he also got to have it with not one, but both of the sunshines of his life.
Waiting really was worth it, just like his mom had told him.
Yoongi stepped out of the embrace. His face was blotchy and red with all types of remnants of their kiss dotting the corners of his mouth but his lips buzzed pleasantly.
Jimin, too, felt the tingling in his lips, one that reminded him of the first time he’d ever kissed Hoseok back years ago. Looking out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hoseok press two fingers to his bottom lip contemplatively. He must be feeling the effects as well.
“Whelp, it’s been fun and all,” Yoongi broke the mood jovially, “but my Holly is probably in the closet wondering where his daddy has gone. Goodbye, my dears.”
With that, Yoongi blew them each a kiss in turn, winking at Jimin and grinning at Hoseok. He turned on his heel, back turned to their amazed faces, and skipped off to find his companion.
“Did he just—?”
“Whoa!” they said in unison.
Jimin clutched at his chest, bending over in feigned pain. “I just want to eat him up! Why is he like this?”
Maybe, just maybe, adding Yoongi to the mix was a little more exciting than they’d originally thought. And who knew, they could also be wrong about him being vanilla. The couple grinned at each other deviously, always on the same page.
There was only one way to find out, after all.