Eyes flicking up to the camera set up above his computer monitor, Jungkook let a smile flicker over his face. It was brand new, a graduation gift to himself. He was fresh out of college, still high on being given a diploma cum laude, so he figured a little splurge on a high quality camera to stream Overwatch was worth it.
His Twitch account was all set up—had been for a few months, without him ever really using it—but now, he was getting serious. Once he’d graduated he’d become a free agent, and he really wanted to have some kind of following by the time he attended BlizzCon later in the fall.
It was summer, and he planned on leaving the house only to go to the gym. Working out and Overwatch: his favorite (read: only) pastimes.
Well. He did have a few trips planned, loosely as they may be, to head up to New York to see his boyfriends.
That itself was a new development too. Calling themselves boyfriends, that is—they’d begun as friends with benefits before their relationship grew into something else, something more—and now he was the odd man out living in a completely different state while the other two in the trio—Taehyung, and Jimin—were in the godforsaken hellhole that is New York City.
Things moved too fast for him there, Jungkook thought, more accustomed to a life in the suburbs. The issue was, after fucking that one time—and then deciding to up the ante to dating—the three of them were more in love than they’d ever considered might actually happen.
Taehyung and Jimin were older, had graduated years before—they already lived together, were already following their dreams in Manhattan. Jungkook, on the other hand—he lived at home with his parents, who knew he was bi, and knew he had a vague boyfriend-like entity that he talked about. Vague because there were actually two, and he wasn’t about to broach that topic with them. The Overwatch obsession had taken enough of a toll on them, honestly.
Through some strategic planning, and popping up on some of his friend’s streams, he already had a solid core of people following his Twitch account—but it was about time that he get his own shit together and stop riding the coattails of other players. He’d even gone all in and changed his handle: No longer JeonCena69, he had rechristened himself Nochu. It was an attempt to be taken more seriously—if he had hopes of becoming a professional player someday (and he did), a stupid meme name wasn’t quite what he wanted printed on the back of a jersey.
He’d even enlisted Taehyung and his photo editing skills to make some graphics for his page—the kind that didn’t look like shit—touting his Twitter, Facebook fanpage, and his donation link. He didn’t really expect any, but he wasn’t about to pass them up either.
Jungkook adjusted the camera a bit, checking himself out in the preview on the screen. His forehead had been cut off, which wouldn’t work—he might need to even mount it further back, or—
All thoughts of his camera and where it should be positioned were cut off by his phone buzzing insistently on the desk beside him. It was mid-morning, a Wednesday, and he figured it was either one of his parental units calling to ask if he’d found a “real job” yet or, if he was significantly more lucky, one of his boyfriends.
Jungkook picked up the device, glancing at the screen—he snickered, because he was just immature enough that he’d set respective dick pics for each respective boyfriend, and he could tell just by looking that Jimin was calling, nevermind the fact that “Jimin-ssi” was plastered at the top of the screen.
Swiping to accept the call, Jungkook lifted it to his ear. “Hey.”
“Hi,” came Jimin’s sweet voice. He didn’t always sound so cutesy—he must have wanted something.
“What’s up?” Jungkook asked, before Jimin could say anything else.
“Um, so,” Jimin began, and Jungkook felt completely assured that he was right. “You know how you’re supposed to come out next weekend?”
“Mhm,” Jungkook hummed, tapping his thumb against the edge of his phone, reaching out with his free hand to adjust the webcam. He would definitely have to figure out the best place for it, once he got off the phone with Jimin.
“Do you think we could push it up to this weekend?”
Jungkook paused. His entire week leading up to visiting New York was planned out: Overwatch, Overwatch, and more Overwatch. He’d scheduled out the times he would need to stream, and he’d even made sure some of his friends would be available to play with—the ones who were more well-known than he was.
“Well,” Jungkook started to say, only to have Jimin sigh in his ear—but it wasn’t a regular sigh. It was a Jimin sigh, which meant it sounded half-aroused just to try and get Jungkook to sway to his whims. “What?”
“We just really miss you, Kookie,” Jimin said, and Jungkook had to smirk. Jimin was good at winning both himself and Taehyung over that way—he had to hand it to him—but Jungkook had been dreaming of becoming a professional gamer since he was a child, before he even knew that it could be a real job, and Overwatch was honestly his best shot at it.
“I miss you guys too,” Jungkook said, which was true—even though he spoke to Taehyung more often than Jimin, only because of how much they played Overwatch together, grouped so they could have private conversations even on a team of other people. “I just—I had some plans this weekend.”
“What kind of plans?” Jimin asked, which led Jungkook to believe that Taehyung hadn’t told him. Taehyung knew very well that Jungkook was forging a path to get himself known, to make sure that scouts for professional teams had their eyes on him, maybe even to have Blizzard work with him for sponsored streams or something. Jimin was rather dismissive of it, which Jungkook understood—everyone else in his life was, too (except Taehyung, but that might have just been because Overwatch was their thing).
“I was trying to get my gaming channel off the ground,” Jungkook said, which was the easiest way to put it. He had to put in a lot of hard work and play as much as possible to keep viewers interested. He had been grinding as Widow lately, trading off as McCree to keep any and all DPS options open for himself. He could even play Ana, a healer, if he absolutely had to, because his aim was on fucking point.
But Jimin, who Jungkook had thought might have lightened up a bit, hoping that he remembered how important this was to Jungkook, clicked his tongue. “That’s more important than me?”
Jungkook’s lips twitched up at one corner, a smirk threatening to appear again. He had no idea how Taehyung put up with him—but of course he did, because Jungkook loved him just as much.
“Well, it is my career,” Jungkook said—frowning a little as Jimin snickered, but at least he had the courtesy to suppress it. “What’s funny?”
“You have a degree in computer science,” Jimin said. “I just thought maybe you’d—get serious?”
Jungkook swallowed his anger, made sure it was tamped down, because he got enough of this bullshit from his parents—he didn’t need it from his boyfriend too. “I can’t come this weekend,” he said. “Is next week really no good?”
“I have an audition scheduled,” Jimin said. “I need to nail it—Taehyung is going to help me run lines—it’s for a big part in a play. Off-Broadway, but still.”
Jungkook bit back what he wanted to say—So your job is more important than mine?—and instead hummed. “I could help you run lines too.”
Jimin hesitated in answering—Jungkook could just see him licking the corner of his mouth, reaching up to brush his hair back off his forehead. “I mean, I want to say yes, but every time you come over it just becomes all about sex ‘cause we miss you so much.” Which was true, but Jungkook still felt like it was a barb—like he wasn’t around enough, and that was his fault. “Maybe the weekend after my audition?”
Jungkook pursed his lips—he’d scheduled all of his streams around going to New York in two weeks, and now he would have to change things around. It wasn’t as bad as it seemed, and he probably had the most flexible workload of the three of them. “Ok,” he agreed, after a moment.
“Awesome,” Jimin said, blowing a kiss into the phone. It made Jungkook smile. “Tae wants to know if you two are playing later?”
“Yeah,” Jungkook sighed. “Yeah, I’ll be on all day, just tell him to message me when he’s ready to play.”
“Will do,” Jimin cooed. Jungkook smiled again—he meant well, even if he didn’t seem to sometimes. “Love you.”
“Love you too,” Jungkook said. He heard a deep voice in the background and, knowing it was Taehyung, chuckled a little to himself. “And Tae.”
“And Tae,” Jimin agreed. “Bye.”
“Bye,” Jungkook said, lowering the phone and ending the call. He stood still for a moment, then put his phone back down on the desk and continued trying to adjust his webcam.
Jungkook glanced down at the chat in the bottom corner of his screen, and almost wanted to cry with how relieved he was that Taehyung was whispering him and not one of his streaming friends. He accepted the group invite immediately, barely letting Join vVante’s group? appear on the screen at all.
[Nochu]: hey :)
[vVante]: feel like playing a bit?
[Nochu]: yeah please. i’m exhausted lol
[vVante]: poor baby
[vVante]: vs ai then?
[Nochu]: that cool?
In lieu of answering, Jungkook watched as Taehyung queued them up to play against a team of computer-controlled bots. Even the hard mode was easy for them, considering the level they played at, but it was nice to be able to relax and play casually after streaming for hours, trying to nail headshot after headshot.
He was still streaming, and as soon as Taehyung popped into the voice chat, Jungkook let him know.
“We’re on Twitch, just so you know,” he said. Taehyung laughed a little over his mic.
“Glad I called you baby on your stream, then,” he said, and Jungkook lowered his face, because he didn’t want anyone watching to see exactly how happy that made him, even after all this time.
“They won’t mind you playing against the computer?” Taehyung asked, and Jungkook checked his stream quickly—they were still waiting to be put into a game, so he had some time. As he’d expected, he lost some viewers—but most people stayed, which was nice to see. He threw up a peace sign and winked at the fans who’d stayed to watch.
“I did my placements today,” Jungkook said, as they were put into a game against two three-stacks. “They’ve seen enough entertainment.”
“How’d you do?” Taehyung asked, choosing Mei, because of course. Jungkook hesitated in choosing—he’d fill with whatever they needed after everyone else picked a hero.
“Plat,” Jungkook said, his voice flat. “I’ll get back up to Diamond at least.”
“‘Course you will,” Taehyung said. “One sec.” His voice sounded quieter the next time Jungkook heard him speak, which was to say, “Hey, Min—Kook is streaming if you want to watch us play!”
Jungkook couldn’t hear the reply from their boyfriend, but Taehyung scoffed and deadpanned, “No, neither of us is D.Va.”
Laughing, Jungkook chose a healer, since they needed one—Lúcio, specifically, because his brain hurt from having to aim all day—and the game started.
“Are you gonna go for Master again this season?” Taehyung asked, already knowing the answer.
“‘Course,” Jungkook said. “Grandmaster if I can swing it.”
He saw out of the corner of his eye a flurry of comments in the chatbox on his stream, which he only bothered to look at because they were playing against the computer. It made him smile and boosted his ego a little, because what he could see of the comments that he scanned, all seemed to think he could definitely get there.
“Take care of yourself too, though, ok?” Taehyung requested—it was as deep as he’d get while on a public stream, but he knew Jungkook would question it.
“What do you mean?” he asked. He was half focused on the game, but he could still hear the concern in Taehyung’s voice. It was nice to get that support from him—because Jimin would probably tell him it was just a game and to quit playing for a bit. He’d done it before.
“I mean, you’re gonna burn yourself out,” Taehyung said. “You can’t play well if you’re constantly being a tryhard.”
“Zarya has ult,” was the next thing Jungkook said—his classic way of deflecting when he knew Taehyung was right. And Taehyung wouldn’t push it—but hopefully he would take his words to heart.
When Jungkook ended the stream a few games later, he’d gotten more subscribers, and even a few donations, which made him feel better, at least in spirit.
“Hey,” Taehyung said, both of them sitting still grouped but no longer playing. Jungkook was checking through his highlights, lips pursed.
“Jimin said he asked you about this weekend.”
Jungkook exhaled a sigh through his nose. “He did.”
“Why don’t you come out?” Taehyung asked. “Relax a little, spend some time with us. You can use my computer to play so you don’t lose your rank.”
“I have to stream,” Jungkook said. “I really want this to work, Tae. You know I love you guys—but this is important to me, too.”
“I know,” Taehyung said, and he sounded so fond that Jungkook slumped down a little in his chair, soft as hell. “I know it is. Come after his audition, ok?”
“Ok,” Jungkook said, closing his eyes for a minute. It was nice to let them rest—but he knew he would probably take a break to eat and then hop right back onto his computer and get himself to Diamond rank. “I’ll text you later.”
“Love you,” Taehyung said.
“Love you too,” Jungkook replied, hands folded and resting on his stomach as he listened to Taehyung’s voice, focusing only on him and the quiet background noises of the Overwatch menu screen. “And Jimin.”
“And Jimin,” Taehyung echoed, the smile audible in his voice. “Don’t play too long, ok?”
“No promises,” Jungkook said, logging off the game and unplugging his headphones.
Downstairs, his parents had left a plate of food covered in tinfoil on the table for him. They were so supportive, he thought, as he shoveled kimchi fried rice into his mouth, just not in the ways he wanted them to be.
High Platinum rank lent itself to Diamond easily. Jungkook watched himself climb higher, his skill rating only improving with each win—he would scowl to himself after every loss, watching as the numbers decreased—but in the two weeks leading up to his visit to New York, he did get exactly where he wanted to in terms of rank.
In terms of his stream—he was pleasantly surprised. He did have to ban some trolls from bothering him, but he ultimately found that linking his Twitch page in the Overwatch team chat did get him some new subscribers, as well as his friends talking about him on their social media. He thought that it was a bit too easy, most of the time, but overall he was just grateful that things were working. He was doing this. He was becoming more and more well known. He was—making a name for himself.
Meeting Jimin and Taehyung at Port Authority was cause for celebration: Jimin had nailed his audition and had been given the partm Jungkook had broken 10,000 followers on Twitch, and Taehyung...he was just happy to be there.
As always, the pair of them were waiting for him, and he couldn’t help but laugh when he saw them—they both had on Overwatch t-shirts, emblazoned with their chosen characters. Taehyung wore Mei, the minimalistic design showing only her hair and thick-rimmed glasses. Jimin’s was adorned with D.Va, of course—her customary headphones present, as well as her bangs and the pink triangles always featured on her cheeks.
“You guys are such dorks,” Jungkook said, stopping a few steps short of them—but that wasn’t going to fly. They rushed him, Jimin’s arriving a second after Taehyung because he was just a bit shorter, and before he could try to dodge it, two sets of arms were wrapped around him, clinging tight to him as they both pressed wet, sloppy kisses to his cheeks. “Jesus.”
“TaeTae told me you reached a milestone,” Jimin said, glancing at him to make sure he was correct. “10,000 subscribers, huh?”
“Ah, yeah,” Jungkook said, and part of him felt warm and fuzzy that it was Jimin saying this to him—Jimin, who thought his dream of professional gaming was a bit silly. “It’s kind of a big deal.”
“It’s a huge deal!” Jimin said, sounding pretty enthusiastic, which Jungkook gave him credit for. “It’s why we paid extra to have these shipped to us priority.” He grinned, and even Jungkook could tell he thought it was a little ridiculous. He was still wearing the shirt, though, so Jungkook decided that he appreciated it.
“We have one for you too,” Taehyung said, taking a step back. He was holding up another shirt—Jungkook groaned at the sight of it. It featured Widowmaker’s helmet, and Jungkook didn’t actually think anything of it until Taehyung reached out to lightly tap Jimin on the stomach with the back of his hand, then reached out and took Jungkook’s duffel bag off of him.
“Thanks, but—” he started to say, and before he could get anything else out, Jimin was tugging the shirt Jungkook was already wearing up over his stomach. “Jimin, what—”
“We all have to match,” he said, continuing to pull on Jungkook’s shirt.
“Just let it happen,” Taehyung said, shouldering Jungkook’s bag himself and watching as Jimin undressed Jungkook in the middle of the bus station.
People were looking at them now, and Jungkook was certain that it was only a matter of time before security came over and asked for whatever the fuck was happening to stop happening—so instead of fighting, he just let the sleeves slip over his arms, bare from the waist up for a moment until Jimin gathered up the body of the shirt, hooking the neck over Jungkook’s head.
“You are really bad at this,” Jungkook said, words muffled as the collar caught first on his nose, then in his mouth—but he was dressed again in seconds, even though it felt like ten minutes given all the eyes staring at them.
“Cute,” Jimin said, straightening the shirt around his waist. He must have been between sizes, because the shirt clung to his chest and shoulders while being a bit looser around his stomach—but the way that both Jimin and Taehyung were eyeing him in it felt good anyway.
“Are you hungry?” Taehyung asked, and Jungkook nodded, patting his own stomach and frowning.
Jimin laughed, hooking an arm around Jungkook’s neck even though he was taller even than Taehyung. “Let’s get him some food, then,” Jimin said, smiling to himself as he felt Taehyung’s fingers brush his side, a telltale sign that he’d wrapped an arm around Jungkook’s middle.
They walked to the same bar as the very first time Jungkook had come to visit, but this time, they ordered drinks—they were celebrating, after all—food forgotten.
“To Jungkook!” Jimin called out for the third time, already on his fifth beer. He lifted the glass, sloshing a little over the side before clinking it against Taehyung and Jungkook’s, spilling even more over his fingers. But he was beyond minding it, truthfully—because every time he said “To Jungkook,” his boyfriends echoed with—
“To Jimin,” Taehyung and Jungkook said, with slightly less enthusiasm. Jungkook snickered as he sipped his beer, and Taehyung made sure not to spill any as he aimed a well-intentioned eyeroll at Jungkook, knowing he’d understand why: It was always all about Jimin, and they both knew it well.
Jimin, for his part, didn’t notice his boyfriends’ slight irritation, and just downed half his beer in one sip.
“I am going to own that theater by the time the play ends,” Jimin said, his words just edging on slurred. He could hold his alcohol just fine, but they hadn’t remembered that they were hungry until three drinks in. A plate of wings was on the way—and Jimin had asked for extra veggie sticks, whispering to their server, Violet, out of the corner of his mouth that fried foods went straight to his thighs.
“Oh, honey, me too,” she had said right back, and jotted down the order on her pad.
“I like her,” Jimin said, when she crossed the bar toward them with their food balanced carefully on a tray, three more glasses of beer surrounding it, distributed just right to keep the weight even.
“This round’s on me,” she said—Taehyung and Jungkook locked eyes, wondering if she was angling for a good tip and counting on them being drunk enough to leave it—but Jimin only bounced a little on his stool, clapping his hands together as he hurriedly finished his current beer and took the second one directly from the server as she handed it to him, cradling it in both hands.
“I like you,” Jimin repeated, holding the glass in his hands without even sipping it. Violet smiled brightly at him, placing the plate of wings in the middle of the table before loading her tray up with their empty glasses.
“I like you too, sweetie,” she said, winking at him before resting three small plates on the edge of the table, slapping a stack of napkins there as well, her hand resting on top of them. “Need anything else?”
“We’re good,” Taehyung said.
“Actually, some water, please,” Jungkook suggested, tilting his head toward Jimin. If he didn’t hydrate he would have a nasty hangover the next morning—they all would, really, and that would be the last thing they wanted to deal with. Jimin bordered on insufferable when he was in any way sick or tired—dealing with a hungover Jimin was a lesson in futility.
“Yes, thank you,” Taehyung agreed, and Violet nodded to the pair of them before turning on her heel.
Jimin had balanced himself on the one of the crossbars of his stool, reaching across the table to grab the plates. He distributed one to each of them, keeping all of the napkins for himself, and then scrutinized the wings, choosing several of the best-looking ones, in his opinion, for himself.
Taehyung and Jungkook watched, amused, as Jimin laid four wings on his plate, overcrowding it a little, then licked his fingers clean of sauce.
“All these celery sticks are for you, you know,” Taehyung said, picking one up and laying it in between two of Jimin’s chicken wings. “You asked for them.”
“I cannot subsist on rabbit food alone,” Jimin said, sipping his beer and leaving a smear of sauce on the glass, from a finger he hadn’t licked entirely clean. “I need meat.”
“No joke,” Jungkook said, smirking as the other two laughed—he picked up a wing and bit into it, while Taehyung chose a few for himself the way Jimin had.
“So, how’s the road to Diamond going?” Taehyung asked, leaning on the table with both elbows.
“Oh,” Jungkook said, putting his chicken down and trying to nab a napkin from Jimin—who allowed it, after Jungkook pouted at him. He wiped his mouth, then spoke. “Actually, I made it back up. I’m middle right now, but I can end high if I really push.”
“Have you found a job yet?” Jimin asked, conversationally, and Jungkook knew what he meant, and also chose to ignore it.
“Not yet,” he replied. “I’m still working on getting noticed, but I do have some plans for the fall—”
“I meant a non-video-game related job,” Jimin clarified. He wasn’t even looking at Jungkook, instead deciding where to take his next bite from.
Taehyung sighed, picking up one of the wings he’d taken to occupy himself, and Jungkook licked the corner of his mouth before replying.
“You’re worse than my parents,” was all he said, huffing an unamused laugh. “I haven’t been looking, because I want my channel to be my job.”
Jimin gave him a look, but when he opened his mouth, Taehyung shoved two carrot sticks and a piece of celery in there, shutting him up as he chewed the vegetables.
“I’m sure it will be,” Taehyung said. “Jimin just doesn’t understand how viable this can be as a career option.”
Mouth full of raw vegetables, Jimin couldn’t reply—he only met Jungkook’s eyes and tried to convey an apology, which Jungkook admittedly wanted to brush off a little. Jimin had been the one who had made all of this happen, months ago, when he and Taehyung were still unsure where things were going. He’d been the one who had said they could just see where things went, and now here they were.
“I can explain it better when he’s not drunk as fuck,” Jungkook said, meeting Taehyung’s eyes.
“You can probably explain it better than me,” Taehyung said, as Jimin washed down the vegetables with another long swig of his beer. “My knowledge of professional gaming begins and ends with the Overwatch League.”
Jungkook’s lips tugged into a smirk, but he just nodded—that was what he had his sights set on, after all. “Later,” Jungkook said, dismissing the topic of gaming for now. “Jimin, tell me about your play.”
Jimin brightened considerably—and even though Jungkook had almost fallen into a sour mood, he felt his own spirits lift with just how happy Jimin was to be asked.
Taehyung groaned, resting his chin on one hand and mumbling something about how he should have been given a part too, since he knew half the play by heart, but Jungkook was glad for the subject change.
“So,” Jimin said, obviously enthused. “So, it’s a revival of a play that’s already been Off-Broadway once, but—it’s a really cool play.”
“What is it?” Jungkook asked, taking another chicken wing from the serving plate and taking a bite, then grabbing a couple carrot sticks too. Jimin didn’t say anything about the vegetables that he’d ordered for himself, and Jungkook suppressed a snicker as he continued on about the play.
“So,” he repeated, “it’s like a parody of the Peanuts.” He paused, waiting for Jungkook to know what he was talking about, but he only shrugged. Across the table, Taehyung was sipping his beer slowly, nibbling at a chicken wing, acting like he’d heard all of this before. And he had, of course, running lines opposite Jimin for his audition.
“Peanuts,” Jimin said, again waiting for recognition from Jungkook, who only shrugged. “The old comic strip. Peanuts. Charlie Brown? Snoopy?”
“Oh, yeah,” Jungkook said, finally, knowing what he meant then. “Sorry, that was a little before my time.”
“The Peanuts are timeless,” Jimin said—only Taehyung said it at the same time, bursting out giggling after.
“That’s his new opinion because he loves this play so much,” Taehyung said, dodging Jimin’s hand as it went in to muss his hair, or hit him, or maybe just knock the wing out of his hand.
“Because it’s a great play,” Jimin said, adamant. He pointed the chicken bone he was holding at Taehyung, then swiveled on his stool to point it at Jungkook. “It’s great and I expect you to come visit again and see me on opening night.”
“Sure thing,” Jungkook said, stacking the two chicken bones he had on his plate, before reaching for a third. “So, what is it about, then?”
“It’s a parody,” Jimin repeated, “of the Peanuts. All the characters are in high school and grown up and it deals with, like, heavy shit, Kook. Like abuse and coming out and depression.”
“Sounds like a good time,” Jungkook quipped, but Taehyung interjected.
“It actually is pretty good,” he said, drawing Jungkook’s gaze to himself. “Jimin is playing a stoner.”
Jungkook laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners, while Jimin batted his eyelashes. “I’ll have to do some research,” he said, and Jungkook shook his head.
“No you don’t,” Taehyung said. “Did you smoke so much in college you forgot about your rebellious youth?”
Jimin turned to look at him, a sour expression on his face. “Why do you always make me look bad to Jungkookie?” he said, frowning as he leaned over closer to the youngest of the three of them. Jungkook turned to face him, their lips meeting in a short kiss before Jimin pulled away and finished the rest of his beer in one final sip.
“You do that all on your own,” Taehyung said, chuckling to himself as Jimin flipped him off and picked up another chicken wing.
“Well, I would love to come see your play, hyung,” Jungkook said, and Jimin beamed at him. “You two will have to come see me in a tournament someday.”
“If you get into one, sure,” Jimin said absently—not realizing how slighted it made Jungkook feel. But he was drunk—he didn’t mean it as harshly as he’d sounded, probably. Jungkook lowered his gaze, focusing on the food in front of him, until he felt fingers touch his own. Taehyung had taken his hand and was squeezing it, giving him a small, yet still supportive, smile.
“He’ll get there,” Taehyung muttered to him, and Jungkook really hoped it was true, more than he hoped they really would get to see him play someday.
“It’s called Dog Sees God,” Jimin said, waiting for the subway home. He was—truth be told—sloshed, and had kept up the drinking long after Taehyung and Jungkook decided to stop. “That’s a maladroit.”
“It’s a palindrome,” Taehyung said. “The name of your play is a palindrome.” He met Jungkook’s eyes around Jimin’s sweaty forehead—the subway was always sweltering, and the alcohol in his system surely didn’t help. They smiled at each other, supporting Jimin in case he decided he was tired and didn’t want to walk anymore. “Maladroit was the Weezer album that you discovered junior year of college.”
“It’s a good album,” Jimin said, and Taehyung nodded.
“We can put it on when we get home,” he said. Jimin hummed quietly, closing his eyes as the train came, the gust of hot air still disgustingly warm, but nicer than the stillness of underground Manhattan. The train doors opened, and after the few people waiting to exit the train pushed past them, Jungkook and Taehyung navigated their way in, managing to secure three seats in a row for all of them, Jimin settling down between them, one hand resting on Taehyung’s thigh, while his body twisted to rest against Jungkook’s, laying his temple against his shoulder. His bangs tickled his neck, and Jungkook immediately forgave him for any and all misgivings he had about his professional gaming aspirations.
The train car was mostly empty, save for a family down at the other end talking about the Broadway musical they’d seen earlier that day, and a spattering of native New Yorkers: one man reading a newspaper while standing, leaning against a pole, and a young woman with earbuds in, reading a novel at the same time. Jungkook could never adjust to life like this—he was used to houses and backyards, but something about being with his boyfriends put him in a perfectly calm, serene mood.
Their fellow occupants had cleared out by the time they got to the stop nearest Taehyung and Jimin’s apartment; together, they carried Jimin out onto the platform, and promptly started arguing about the best way to get Jimin upstairs was, as he was practically asleep on his feet, full of beer and too many chicken wings (Jungkook had eaten most of the carrot and celery sticks).
“Let’s find an elevator,” Taehyung said, shuffling his feet a bit.
“The stairs are right here,” Jungkook countered, pointing—he was right, they were. “It’ll take too long to find an elevator.”
“Yeah, but he’s heavy,” Taehyung said.
“Not heavy,” Jimin mumbled—Taehyung and Jungkook both exchanged a look, because Jimin had seemed entirely out of it. Jungkook shrugged, as if to say Jimin had a point—they all three knew how much Taehyung liked it when Jimin carried a bit of extra weight—and then started to usher them toward the stairs.
“Since you’re up,” Jungkook said, jostling Jimin a little bit, “you can walk up these steps with us.”
Jimin groaned, loudly, but did as he was told, and the three of them were back on the street in a few minutes. There wasn’t much time for conversation, since when he wasn’t climbing stairs, Jimin was resting all of his weight on Taehyung and Jungkook’s shoulders—the picture of high maintenance, but he was drunk, and he didn’t care. One boyfriend was good for this kind of thing—two were even better.
The walk from the subway to their apartment had all of them wishing they’d taken a cab—the prospect of a walk-up had seemed so nice when they’d signed the lease, because they would save a bit on rent—but now, it was a daunting task to get Jimin up a few flights while he was basically fighting them on helping at all.
“You guys should really hit the gym,” Jungkook said once they reached the right landing, letting Taehyung step away from Jimin so he could unlock their door.
“That’s what we have you for.” Taehyung’s keys jingled a little as he spoke, pointing first to himself, then Jimin, then Jungkook. “Brains. Beauty. Brawn.”
“Ha ha,” Jungkook said, helping move Jimin inside the apartment—he seemed to be more awake now that they were home, and was clinging tight to Jungkook, trying to kiss his neck. “Let’s get him to bed.”
“‘M not tired,” Jimin said, yawning spectacularly and letting Jungkook guide him to his bedroom. Taehyung bustled in after them, kicking at the laundry basket stuck inside the open closet door so he wouldn’t trip on it, then half-entered the closet. He pulled down extra blankets, clutching them to his chest as he rounded the bed where Jimin was laying.
He was flat on his back, and Jungkook was trying in vain to untie his shoes. Taehyung grabbed the pillows from his side of the bed and hurried back out, leaving Jungkook.
“Hurry up,” Jimin said, his voice low, and Jungkook laughed to himself as he finally undid one of the double-knots Jimin had tied into his boot laces. He tossed the shoe behind him into the closet, then started to work on the other one while Jimin’s hands made their way to his waist. He was working the button of his jeans, the black denim clinging to his hips and thighs as he made an attempt to wriggle out of them.
“I am,” Jungkook said. He was just as tired as Jimin, if not more—he’d traveled that day, and that always took a lot out of him, even if New York City wasn’t a very far trip. After another few moments’ struggle, he slipped the second shoe off of Jimin’s foot, and let it drop to the floor behind him.
Bending himself at the waist, Jimin tugged his jeans off, turning them inside out as they caught on his heels; he proffered them to Jungkook, who took them to remove them the rest of the way, balling them up and dropping them into the laundry basket as he stepped back.
“Roll over,” Jungkook said, watching as Jimin hesitated, then flopped onto his stomach, burying his face into the nice, cool pillow before turning to look at him, his eye half-lidded, lips pouted and cheeks flushed red.
“I love you,” Jimin murmured, and Jungkook smiled, bending down to give him a soft kiss on the lips.
“Goodnight, Jiminie. I love you too.” He paused, and then they both said in unison, “And Taehyung.”
Jimin’s eye fluttered closed; he adjusted his hips against the mattress beneath him, and Jungkook realized too late that he had settled Jimin down on top of the blankets. Biting his lip, he just turned to leave the room, figuring Jimin could cover himself if he wanted to, and shut the light on his way.
Taehyung was perched on the couch when Jungkook made his way down the short hall. He was sitting on the back of it, feet resting on the actual seat cushion, and he twisted himself to look at Jungkook as he re-entered the living room.
“Hey,” Taehyung said, and Jungkook heaved a sigh, laughing a little.
“Hey,” he echoed, climbing over the back of the couch to slump against Taehyung’s leg.
The floor in front of the couch had been made up with the extra comforter and blankets that Taehyung had taken from the closet, pillows angled perfectly—it looked wonderfully inviting after spending a few hours on a bus, and Jungkook couldn’t wait to sink down into it and sleep, even though it was on the floor.
“You two need a bigger bed,” Jungkook said. Even if Jimin hadn’t been drunk enough to fall asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow, the three of them wouldn’t have fit to sleep in it.
“We need a bigger apartment,” Taehyung corrected, smiling as he made sure his balance was good even with as inebriated as he was—the last thing he needed was to fall off the couch—but he tangled a hand into Jungkook’s hair anyway, playing with the soft, dark brown strands.
“Too expensive,” Jungkook countered, laughing a little as Taehyung brushed his bangs back.
They sat for a moment in silence, until Taehyung spoke again, his hand still carding through Jungkook’s hair.
“Jimin just—sometimes he just needs proof that something will really work before he’ll commit to it. He, um...he was like that when we first met, and he still gets like that about some of his auditions. He’ll come around.”
Jungkook paused in replying, instead straightening himself up a bit and leaning his head back against Taehyung’s knee, looking up at him, upside-down. “You think?”
“I do,” Taehyung said. “He said he didn’t want you to come before his audition because it would end up with us having sex, but the truth is he didn’t want you to see how nervous he gets.” Jungkook blinked, so Taehyung went on. “He came this close to cancelling the whole audition like three times in the week leading up to it. And then he went in there and nailed it, got the part, and now all he talks about is the play.” He gathered Jungkook’s hair up into a small ponytail, holding it there for lack of a rubber band. “You just kinda have to prove him wrong. And I know you can.”
Jungkook nodded, tugging his hair out of Taehyung’s loose grip; he turned himself, pulling away from his boyfriend, and leaned against the back of the couch instead, facing him. “I plan on it,” Jungkook said, drawing a small smile from Taehyung. “I decided I’m going to BlizzCon this year.”
“Oh really?” Taehyung said, sliding down to sit on the couch properly, kicking at the blankets on the floor beneath them.
“Yeah,” Jungkook enthused. “I—I think by then I’ll have a decent following, right, and I’m gonna try to make some connections. You know, like...professional ones.”
“Well I didn’t think you meant the ‘Craigslist: Missed’ kind,” Taehyung said, reaching up to muss Jungkook’s hair again, but this time much more playfully. “That’s great. I’m sure you’ll get a lot of attention.”
“Really?” Jungkook asked, needing the reassurance—and Taehyung, who was absolutely certain in what he’d said, nodded.
Jungkook paused—then surged forward to kiss him, hard and meaningful. They were not quite sober enough to do anything, and they didn’t even think they wanted to without Jimin—but when they lowered themselves to the floor to sleep, Jungkook turned and gratefully clung to Taehyung’s back, instead of the other way around. Taehyung had to make do with holding tight to a pillow—but, he thought, it was well worth it.
Jungkook had been half right: He did have a following by the time BlizzCon rolled around, but he wasn’t sure he’d describe it as “decent.”
It was something more like “insane,” or “huge,” or—if he was being particularly daring—”massive.”
He honestly attributed it to not only his gameplay but his looks—he was an attractive guy, and he knew it. Did it help to be cute with the smile of an anthropomorphized rabbit (as Jimin had told him time and again) while managing to land headshot after headshot? Yeah, probably.
His 10,000 subscribers had, in the few months leading up to the convention, quintupled—he was sitting pretty with somewhere just south of 50,000, and he had begun turning heads—virtually, of course, since he doubted anyone on the street would recognize him.
Blizzard had reached out to him to tentatively offer him a streaming partnership, possibly for an upcoming event, giving out exclusive sprays or even a skin—they wanted to meet him in person, see how he did with the crowd, how he did with real people watching him, instead of in the comfort of his own bedroom.
Taehyung and Jimin had, for their part, been incredibly excited for him—particularly Jimin, which felt nice. Perhaps somewhere along the line Taehyung had managed to really explain to him how serious it was, now that Jungkook had gotten noticed by the freaking game devs—but after he’d shot off a text to their group chat about it, the one to call him had been Jimin, half-shouting into the phone even as he was scolded by someone the stage manager of his play that ”Personal calls are for personal time, Park!”
Jungkook almost couldn’t believe how quickly things were going—but he wasn’t going to let himself get complacent. For every perk he got, like when Blizzard had comped his con ticket and even offered to provide his airfare, he reminded himself that this could all be over just as quickly as it had begun. Every time they changed the meta of the game, things like this happened. Players were dubbed as washed, they had to change their mains due to nerfing or the introduction of an inevitably-overpowered and completely unbalanced new hero and just—he wasn’t going to let it get to his head. That was the important thing.
But the truth of the matter was that he was one step closer to the career he had always wanted, since childhood, and he wasn’t going to let it go to waste, either.
Opening night for Jimin’s play thankfully fell the Friday after the convention—which meant, if things went well for Jungkook in California, then they’d have more than one thing to celebrate. Sometimes, Taehyung would tag along with Jimin to rehearsal and sneak Jungkook videos from the back of the theater. He would watch every one, eyes crinkled from smiling with his free hand covering his mouth, and marvel at how good Jimin really was on stage. The commercials he’d seen with Jimin in them didn’t do him justice, nor did the one-line roles on TV programs. He was talented—and now he was getting to showcase it.
They were all doing well for themselves—even Taehyung, for the most part, who had been hired by the play’s producer to take promotional shots for the show’s advertising. It was a job, and considering that Taehyung would get to work with his boyfriend, of course he took it. The problem was that such jobs were few and far between, and aside from the occasional wedding or graduation, Taehyung was finding that keeping himself afloat as a freelance photographer in New York City was getting harder by the day.
“What if you submitted some work to a magazine or whatever?” Jungkook asked, glancing at where his phone rested on his nightstand. He was packing a suitcase, leaving for BlizzCon the next afternoon, but Taehyung had called him in the middle of his gathering his things, and he wasn’t about to ignore him for anything.
“Look, I called to talk to you about Overwatch,” Taehyung said. Even though Jungkook could hear how resigned he was, he still rolled his eyes.
“If you didn’t want to talk about work, you wouldn’t have brought it up when I asked how you were.”
A pause. “Touché. But really—can’t we just talk about you?”
It was Jungkook’s turn to pause, but that was because he was trying to figure out how the fuck his headset cable had gotten so tangled. His fingers were working at the knot in the cord for a long few moments before he replied. “Yeah, ok, fine. What about me?”
“Are you excited?” Taehyung asked. “You’re gonna get discovered at the convention.”
“To be fair, I kind of was already discovered,” Jungkook corrected him, biting the inside of his cheek as he tried to force the cable back through itself, but the knot was tied tight. He scowled.
“Blizzard telling you they might want to ask you to possibly stream for them at some point in the near future doesn’t count,” Taehyung said. Jungkook paused in his detangling of the headset cord and looked over at his phone, glaring at it. “But seriously,” Taehyung went on, “I think this will be what that makes something happen for you.”
Jungkook sighed as the stupid knot in his headset cable finally loosened; he slipped the end through and smiled as it fell to the floor, no longer a black, tangled mess.
“Kook?” Taehyung asked, the silence a little too long for his liking.
“I think so too,” Jungkook said, holding the arch of the headset in one hand, wrapping the cable around it carefully even though he knew that it would probably come out of his suitcase jumbled again.
“I’m proud of you,” Taehyung said, and Jungkook let his arms drop, the sides of his hands hitting his thighs as he looked over at his phone, his chest swelling. “So is Jimin.”
“Please,” Jungkook said, mostly because he was trying not to betray his tone by showing how touched he was. It was just unexpected, and while his parents were currently entertaining his belief that this was his big break, they weren’t running around boasting about how proud their son made them.
“Ok, ok,” Taehyung said, his voice thin too—Jungkook wondered if he, also, was being just as sappy as he was. “I’ll let you get back to packing. Love you.”
“Love you too,” Jungkook said automatically, meaning every syllable. Together, they summed up with, “And Jimin,” and then Jungkook’s phone beeped a few times in quick succession, indicating Taehyung had hung up.
Jungkook finished packing up, making sure to carefully secure the gaming laptop he’d bought in its case—then locking it, so he would be the only one able to open it during his trip. He wasn’t sure if he’d need it, really—he was supposed to meet up with reps from the Overwatch team when he got to the convention, but bringing his own computer seemed like the smartest solution.
Satisfied, finally, that he’d remembered everything he needed, Jungkook hopped onto his desktop to play a few Quick Play games. He smiled to himself when he saw vVante request to join his group, and accepted the request. Even though they couldn’t talk on mic, his own packed away in his bag, it still felt nice to hear Taehyung’s callouts through every game they played.
If Jungkook thought he knew what to expect at the convention, he was wrong. In the past, he’d gone to small anime conventions or the like, meeting cosplayers and other nerds interested in the things he was interested in—but BlizzCon attendees took it to the next level, and even though he could just see Jimin cringing at the entire thing, he still felt immeasurably at home.
There was so much to explore, vendors and artists, people hooked up to free wifi to try and play their chosen game, even though it would probably be a disaster—but the biggest shock of all was when a small group approached him. There were four of them, and they looked to be young teenagers, if they were even that old—they were all speaking at once, and Jungkook could see who he assumed were their parents hanging back and keeping an eye on them. When he focused his attention on the group again, he really took them in—and realized, probably a bit too late, that these were not only a group of Overwatch players who happened to recognize him. No, they were fans. Of his.
One of them was dressed as Widowmaker—a casual cosplay, clearly, because she was wearing the leggings sold in Blizzard’s online shop, with a purple hoodie emblazoned with her purple kiss mark—the same one that Jungkook used as his player icon in-game. Another was full-on McCree—cowboy hat and all; the face of the girl wearing it was nearly entirely obscured by how big the hat was for her, but overall, it was endearing. A third was wearing a Mei t-shirt—the same one that Taehyung had purchased for himself the last time Jungkook had gone to visit New York. But the fourth one—
He caught Jungkook’s attention simply because of what he was wearing—it was an Overwatch World Cup jersey, which made complete sense, because the Cup happened alongside BlizzCon—but this jersey. Jungkook could hear them all talking about him, about his last stream and how quickly he’d ranked up to high Diamond by the end of the last competitive season, but he couldn’t discern anything they were actually saying, because this kid—this kid, who had to be half his age, at best, was wearing what appeared to be home-made, custom USA World Cup jersey—with Jungkook’s name printed on it. Nochu. It was right there.
“Hey, did you make this?” Jungkook asked, trying to remember if it was more condescending or less to crouch down when talking to a kid. He did it anyway, lowering himself to balance on the balls of his feet in front of the group, gesturing to the jersey.
“Yeah!” the boy enthused, then looked over his shoulder. “Well, my dad helped me, but yeah.”
“That’s so cool,” Jungkook said, unable to look away from where his battle tag was written, clear as day, on the kid’s shoulder.
“We’re all your favorite characters,” the girl cosplaying Widow said—and Jungkook remembered that there was a group of kids there, not just the one in the jersey. He straightened up, nodding as he took them in again as a group.
“Yeah, I can—” he started to say, but then the young man in the Mei shirt stepped forward.
“I’m Taehyung’s favorite,” he said, holding out the bottom hem of his shirt so the Mei design was unobscured by his badge, and Jungkook had to suppress a smile. Taehyung had never actually appeared on one of his streams, but his voice was present enough that his subscribers probably knew him just as well as Jungkook.
“I will definitely tell him about all of you guys,” Jungkook said, which drew giant, beaming smiles from all four of them, and their parents as well. “Hey—I think I’m gonna be playing a little later, maybe…depending on how the day goes. Make sure you watch me on Twitch, ok?”
“Ok!” the girl dressed as McCree half-shouted, lowering her face as soon as she did so the hat covered her even further.
“Have fun,” Jungkook said, nodding to them and their guardians, before continuing on his solo tour of the venue. There was so much left to see, so much to traverse, but after the encounter he’d just had, he felt like he was floating on air.
Meeting with the Overwatch reps was easy enough—they were friendly, and all they wanted from him was to know his number of subscribers and potential availability.
“That can all be locked down later,” one of them had said to him, after taking his contact information and jotting down the numbers he gave her—he’d managed to pass 53,000 subscribers that morning, and that seemed to be somewhat impressive to them considering that he was relatively unknown. “We’ll be in touch once we know what event we’d like you to stream for,” she said as Jungkook nodded. “Maybe even the upcoming winter one, but we’ll see.”
Jungkook continued nodding before realizing that he was probably supposed to speak—so he did, stammering out his gratitude.
“Thank you,” he said, hurriedly. “And thanks—thanks for the ticket to the con.”
She smiled warmly at him, even as she was turning away to speak to the person beside Jungkook—he presumed it was another streamer, which just made him more eager to leave a good impression. “Enjoy the rest of the weekend.” She barely glanced at him, though the short bit of attention she spared was unerringly polite.
Jungkook had half a mind to bow to her—like Jimin, who had told him about using his ethnicity to his advantage, giving him a leg up on the countless white boys who showed up for auditions, Jungkook thought maybe he could score a spot streaming for the Lunar New Year event by showing a Korean custom.
It was a moot point anyway—she had already moved on, taking down the next streamer’s information, though there were less smiles and nods when he provided his number of subscribers. Jungkook decided to just move on, maybe watch the talent competition, and get his mind off of it.
He’d ended up wandering through the cosplay exhibition, finding the group of preteens who had approached him—the McCree was showing off her outfit, and Jungkook thought she might pass out when she saw him give her finger guns. It had clearly made her day, if not her weekend—and truthfully, it made his too. It wasn’t what he had expected to come out of having a successful Twitch channel—fans, that is—but if he could make people happy simply by existing, then it was a perk that was definitely well worth it.
Collapsing onto his hotel bed that night, Jungkook buried his face into his pillow, sighing deeply. He was tired as shit—but he had to stream, especially considering he was at BlizzCon, and also, he was hungry. Room service would have to do—he wasn’t about to go wander the city when he could have food brought straight to him—and after he played for a bit, he was definitely going to have to call his boyfriends.
After perusing the menu provided by the hotel, Jungkook had placed his order—and been told that due to the volume of hotel guests currently ordering, there might be a delay in his food being brought up. His grumbling stomach urged him to complain, but Jungkook didn’t bother—it wasn’t the hotel staff’s fault, and that left him more time to practice before streaming anyway.
It hit him, halfway through his fifth or sixth game of Quick Play that he was now three hours behind his boyfriends on the east coast. Biting his lip a little, he quickly queued for another game, but stood up from where he’d set up his laptop on the desk in his room, retrieving his phone from where he’d tossed it onto his bed, along with his con badge.
No messages, but then, he had told Taehyung that he’d call when he was free. Returning to the desk chair, he typed out a text message to their group chat instead, frowning when he realized that it was already past 11 in New York—he hoped they were up.
u guys up?
He didn’t mean it like that
...Ok, maybe he did. Fuck if I know
lol no i just wanted to make sure you guys would be awake for a bit after i stream
i need to tell you about my day
How did it go?
i’ll skype you later?
how long will you guys be up for
as long as you need us to be up for
Can you stop making everything super suggestive?
Kook, he’s literally sitting on the couch wearing sweatpants and socks and a hoodie, there is nothing sexy happening
don’t ruin the illusion
poor baby kook is 3000 miles away
he needs some attention from his boyfriends
just got queued in ttyl
He for sure needs that attention.
For the first few minutes of the match, Jungkook could hear his phone going off—but he ignored it, in favor of actually playing. He’d won a few matches and lost a few—which he didn’t feel boded well for solo queueing into comp after he ate, but he was saved from those worries by a knock on his door.
A quick peek through the peep hole revealed that it was, indeed, room service—so he let them in, pushed his laptop to the side, then sat back down at the desk to eat the meal he’d ordered—it was the leanest thing he could find, considering he wasn’t sure if he would be making use of the hotel’s gym this weekend—grilled chicken breast and roasted potatoes. He thought about making a trip down to the lobby to investigate if there was ramen in the shop beside the concierge desk—but he nixed that almost immediately. More carbs without exercise was not what he needed.
He ate quickly, mostly so he could get in at least an hour or two of streaming before Skyping Taehyung—and before long, his plate was empty, the glass of ice water making a ring of condensation on the desk beside his laptop. Placing the empty tray out in the hall for housekeeping to pick up, he returned to his computer, adjusted his headset, and then set up his stream on Twitch, making sure to tweet a link out and post it on his Facebook page, too. Then, without waiting any longer, he queued up for competitive play.
Not particularly worried about dropping down to Platinum, since he had gained a ton of points to keep him at the higher end of Diamond, Jungkook grinned at the webcam and then set about playing, able to pick Widowmaker almost every round. He made sure to tell his teammates—and competition—that they were live on Twitch, pasting the link. He got a little flack for it, but that was to be expected, and when he checked his stats at the end of his stream, he saw that it did net him a few more subscribers, so he couldn’t quite complain.
Removing his headset, Jungkook coiled the cable up and set them aside, logging out of and closing Twitch and Overwatch before double clicking on the Skype icon. He never really used to use the program before, but it was easier to video chat than to Facetime, especially when there were three of them involved.
“Is that Jungkookie?” he heard Jimin’s voice ask, before he could even see anything—it looked as though Taehyung’s hand was blocking the camera.
“Would I even answer it if it wasn’t?” Taehyung asked in return; as he watched, Jungkook watched his status change from Busy to Offline—so Jungkook turned his to the same, just in case anyone else tried to call. Not that he expected it—but better safe than sorry, right?
“Hey,” Jungkook said, glancing down at the image of himself in the corner, making sure that his cam was definitely still working, because Taehyung’s was still blacked out. “I can’t see you guys?”
“Just making sure,” Taehyung said. “You’re alone, right?”
Jungkook paused. “Uh, yeah? Who else would I be with?” He turned to look over his shoulder, just in case there was some sort of ghost or other entity behind him, but nope—completely alone.
“Good,” Taehyung replied, and when Jungkook turned back around, he saw why he’d asked.
Jimin was splayed out on the bed, legs spread wide, his hand between his legs. He was naked, and he was touching himself—stroking his cock lightly, a come stain already on his stomach.
“You’re a little late,” Jimin said, and Jungkook was pretty sure he could make out a smirk on his face, though he wasn’t quite close enough to the camera for it to be clear.
“Wh—” Jungkook tried to say, ignoring the way that apparently every single drop of blood in his body was rushing from his brain to his dick. “What are you guys doing?”
Taehyung snickered, stepping into frame—he, too, wasn’t wearing anything, but his dick looked half-hard. If he’d been the one to come on Jimin’s front, then that would explain why he was softening—but Jungkook was honestly a little distracted by Jimin.
“We were just killing time until you called,” Taehyung said, moving to the side of the bed before climbing onto it beside Jimin. “Jimin wanted to wait.”
“Doesn’t look like it,” Jungkook said, already shifting himself where he sat, his pants growing a bit tighter in the crotch.
“Oh,” Taehyung said, his voice taking on a lilt that Jungkook had heard before; it made heat pool in his stomach. “I meant he wanted to wait to come until you could watch him.” A pause. “He knows how much you like it.”
Jungkook’s breath caught in his throat, and without any further cues from either of them, he leaned back in the chair, tugging up his shirt and unbuttoning his jeans.
Onscreen, Taehyung had leaned over; he’d batted Jimin’s hand out of the way and was sucking his cock, sinking down lower on it each time he bobbed his head.
“Oh my god,” Jungkook half-groaned, wanting to keep himself quiet because, even though he was locked in his hotel room, there wasn’t really such a thing as privacy there. He wasn’t even sure whether Taehyung or Jimin could hear him, until he whimpered a little, rubbing his thumb over the slit in the head of his cock, and both of them looked at the camera—Taehyung out of the corner of his eye, head turned just slightly as he mouthed at the tip of Jimin’s dick; and Jimin, who was craning his neck to look up and over Taehyung, directly at the webcam.
Jungkook felt his stomach kick—his breath caught in his throat as he realized, finally, he’d paused in his attempt to undress himself from the waist down. Jimin’s cock was down Taehyung’s throat and Jungkook’s was still trapped in the confines of his pants.
Standing up, he shimmied out of his jeans, letting them pool around his ankles as he hurriedly lowered the elastic of his underwear, exposing himself.
“Ooh, look at him,” Jimin cooed from his computer; Jungkook realized a moment too late that standing had aligned his crotch almost perfectly with the webcam of his laptop. “Happy to see us, Kookie?”
“Shut up,” Jungkook said, mostly to drown out the wet sounds of Taehyung sucking on Jimin’s cock. He sat back down, thinking for a moment that he should probably check the bathroom for lotion or something to use while touching himself, but then Jimin took a loud, shuddering breath and Taehyung moaned around his length, and Jungkook’s focus was back on his boyfriends where it belonged.
Jimin’s heels were digging into the bed, hips bucking up into Taehyung’s mouth as he sucked him down; Jungkook forced himself not to blink, not wanting to miss even a fraction of a second. Jimin had curled one hand into Taehyung's hair, holding tight to it. Jungkook could just barely make out the way some stray strands were poking out between his fingers, and he would have considered it cute if the next thought on his mind wasn’t Taehyung pulling off of Jimin's cock to push his legs even further open.
Jungkook watched, jaw slack as Taehyung manhandled their boyfriend; Jimin was the smallest of the three of them, and that meant it was easy for them to position his body the way they wanted. He moved easily with Taehyung, his hands sinking into Jimin's thick thighs, and Jungkook decided to just fuck the lotion, because this was happening and—
Wrapping a hand around himself, he stroked his cock slow at first, then quicker, because Taehyung was holding Jimin at possibly the most ridiculous angle ever, solely for Jungkook's benefit. He could see everything—the way his legs were trembling, the way Taehyung's thumb was sinking easily into Jimin's asshole, because he'd probably been playing with him before Jungkook had called. He loosed a groan, and then tightened his grip around himself, because Taehyung had ducked his head.
Almost immediately, Jimin moaned. Taehyung could barely hear the wet noises coming from between his legs as Taehyung licked him, ate his ass out, probably while his thumb was still hooked into Jimin and holding him open. Jungkook whimpered, he couldn't help it—and then Jimin was propping himself up on one elbow. It had to be uncomfortable, or at least it would have been for Jungkook, but Jimin made it look easy. His eyes were half-lidded and his lips were pouting and just a touch swollen, but he was staring straight into the webcam in a way that made Jungkook's heart skip a beat and his hand move in doubletime.
"He's—" Jimin said, and Jungkook knew that he was fucking done for. It was one thing to be watching; it was quite another to have Jimin narrate it for him. "It's so wet," Jimin nearly cooed at him. Jungkook closed his eyes, swallowing thickly as he felt his hips twitch forward into his hand. "His mouth," Jimin sighed, and Jungkook opened his eyes again, watching.
They hadn't moved, other than Jimin bracing himself, trying to keep eye contact with the webcam, with Jungkook. Taehyung's head was between his legs, his tensed thighs framing him; his hair was mussed in the back, and Jungkook longed to card his fingers through it, push him harder against Jimin, watch as he fucked him with his tongue—
Again, his hips jerked forward into his hand, and he felt rather than saw precome drooling down the underside of his cock. These two were going to be the death of him—they barely had to do anything and Jungkook was finished. He could see exactly nothing of what Taehyung was doing to Jimin, and the only way he could tell Jimin was jerking himself off too was that his arm, the one that didn't currently have an elbow digging into the mattress below him, was moving.
"You know what I want?" Jimin asked, surprisingly coherent for a man so close to orgasm, cheeks flushed and eyes wet. "I want—" he said, the word cracking off toward the end. Jungkook scooched the chair he was in closer to the desk, taking care not to accidentally scrape his cock on the wooden furniture; he did, however, reach up with his free hand to increase the volume just a little bit, so he didn't miss what Jimin wanted.
On the screen in front of him, Taehyung hummed; Jungkook watched his hair shift a little as he moved his head, and then Jimin continued his attempt to mentally break both of his boyfriends: "Want TaeTae to eat me out," he said, "and want Kook-ah to suck me at the—the—" He paused, arching up off the bed as his orgasm peaked, body trembling. He sighed out the final sinful words, his voice wrapping around Jungkook like warm velvet. "Same time."
The thought of it was too much—Jungkook's thumb caught the ridge of his cockhead and he was coming, without a thought or care about where his come would end up. His eyes had fluttered shut, squeezed tight, letting the electricity jolt through his body at the thought of swallowing Jimin's load while Taehyung ate him out, both of them palming their cocks, getting off on just pleasuring their boyfriend. His head rolled back onto his shoulders, hand twisting around his cock in circles, jerking himself off to the very end, to the point where he felt too sensitive to even exist, much less touch himself.
He came back down with a short sigh, taking a moment to himself before lifting his head to look at his computer again.
Taehyung was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, but Jungkook could tell once he'd lowered his arm he'd be grinning wide, and Jimin was licking come off his fingers—purposefully, obscenely, wanting to make sure Jungkook saw him—and he very much did.
There was no awkward shuffling around, no tiptoeing at the fact they’d just done that, because they were all more than comfortable with each other—Taehyung disappeared for a few moments to grab a washcloth to wipe Jimin clean, so Jungkook took that as his cue to do the same. He had more to clean than just himself, if the small puddle of semen dripping from the bottom of the desk was any indication, so after he dirtied one of the washcloths wiping himself off, he grabbed the box of tissues to clean up the mess he'd made. He could see Taehyung out of the corner of his eye, leaning over a still-prone Jimin, kissing his eyelids and nose and cheeks; Jungkook ignored the burst of envy in his chest, knowing that he realistically could have that any time he wanted, including right now, if he hadn't traveled to California, and that made him settle, a bit. But fuck—fuck, he missed them.
"Kookie's back," Jimin mumbled, just loud enough that Jungkook could hear him. He glanced up at the screen, and now Taehyung was helping Jimin sit up. They were both still naked, but even as he watched, Taehyung turned the bed down so they could slip under the covers. Jungkook forced himself to suppress how left out he felt, because it wasn't their fault he had plans for his career and had taken steps to follow them.
"All clean?" Taehyung asked, draping the covers over a sleepy Jimin, who was propping himself up on not only his pillows but Taehyung's as well, so he wouldn't fall asleep from being just a touch too horizontal.
"Yeah," Jungkook said, tossing the come-stained tissues into the garbage pail under the desk. He had stepped out of his jeans, but was still wearing his shirt and briefs—in an attempt to feel included, he tugged his shirt off, baring his chest to the webcam. Jimin, in what was a customary move for him, perked up at the sight of more of Jungkook's skin. It made him laugh a bit—and forget his preoccupations.
"So, how was your day?" Taehyung went on. He was leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees over the comforter. He looked so honestly interested that Jungkook couldn't help himself—he gushed about his day, the experience of it, meeting the Overwatch reps, streaming, and even the hotel's food.
Taehyung was grinning wide through the whole outline of his day, knowing that the more time Jungkook spent there, the better of a time he'd have, and even Jimin had perked up, Jungkook's enthusiastic half-shouting rousing him from whatever kind of post-orgasmic slumber he might have wanted.
"But the best part," Jungkook said, and both of them sat up straighter to hear it better, "was this group of kids I met this morning. The first ever fans who came up to me."
"Yeah?" Jimin asked, tossing his head to move his bangs out of his face.
"Yeah," Jungkook affirmed, like Jimin might not have believed it, looking from him to Taehyung, who would understand what he meant better. "The first girl is dressed as Widow, right? Like, the leggings and a hoodie with my icon on it."
"The kiss," Jimin said knowingly, smirking—though it fell off his face when Jungkook looked at him, surprised, and Taehyung turned to stare at him just the same. "What? I watch his streams."
"Since when?" Taehyung asked, accusatory, at the same moment Jungkook nearly squealed, "Really?"
Jimin only shrugged in response, a little smirk curling his lips—so Jungkook just continued on.
"So anyway, she's Widow, and then the next one is McCree. Cutest little girl I've ever seen, dressed as a cowboy. It was a great cosplay too, looked just like him."
"Did you get any pictures?" Jimin asked.
"No," Jungkook replied. "I should have asked for one, that would have been adorable." He frowned. "Maybe I'll see them tomorrow."
"Who else was there?" Taehyung asked.
"Hm?" Jungkook hummed, looking off to the side, wondering if he'd see them again in the cosplay exhibition or even just walking around.
"You said there was a group—were there more than just the two of them?"
"Oh, shit, yeah—there was one who was a fan of yours, actually. He had on the same Mei shirt you have and actually namedropped you."
Taehyung's rectangular smile appeared at once, his eyes narrowing as he grinned hard. "Really?"
"Really," Jungkook echoed. "He showed me his shirt and was like, 'I'm Taehyung's favorite,' and I promised to tell you about him."
"That's so cute," Jimin said, reaching over to pinch Taehyung's rounded cheek. "You have a fanboy, TaeTae."
"Technically he's one of Jungkook's," Taehyung said, trying to deflect, but Jimin didn't let go of his cheek, just tugging on it a bit harder.
"Nope, he said he was your favorite," Jimin teased. "Surprise. It was actually me the whole time."
"So the last one," Jungkook said, interrupting, because he was feeling that misery of being excluded, however unintentional, creeping up again. "He was—it was so cool, Tae. He had on an Overwatch World Cup USA jersey, right? But—they made it custom, 'cause you know whose name was on it?" He paused, but not long enough to actually let them guess. "Mine. Nochu. Kid had on a freaking custom Nochu jersey."
Jimin looked bemused, like he was still trying to wrap his head around there being an Overwatch World Cup—but Taehyung looked just as excited as Jungkook felt.
"That's incredible," he enthused, leaning even further forward, the duvet threatening to fall off of Jimin. "How could you not get a picture of that? What's wrong with you, Jungkook?"
"Ooh, full name," Jimin mumbled, and again, was ignored.
"I felt weird asking kids for a picture! If I see them again, I'll get one, ok?"
"Ok," Taehyung replied, glancing over at Jimin, who was trying to stifle a yawn by pressing his face into the back of Taehyung's shoulder. "Ok, Princess Park over here needs his beauty rest." He leaned away from Jimin, only to turn and peck him on the lips, a short lived but still cute kiss. "Talk tomorrow?"
"Obviously," Jungkook said, feeling a little tired himself—the bed behind him looked all too welcoming in the reflection on his laptop monitor. "Love you guys."
"And you," they chorused in reply, and Jungkook ended the call so Taehyung wouldn't have to get up to shut off his computer, knowing from experience that he'd just let it stand still long enough to fall asleep on its own. Just like Jungkook would in his hotel room.
Jungkook would never have second-guessed himself, not really, but the rest of the convention went better than he could ever have imagined. His stream hadn't been any more successful than the prior ones, but he wondered if maybe word had gotten out that Blizzard was considering him for a sponsored stream at some point, because he drew far more attention the second day than the first day. People really seemed to recognize him, and not just other convention-goers—reps from other companies approached him too, and he was even offered a free gaming chair as long as he plugged it on his stream.
He turned it down—he wasn't sure he wanted to head down that road. It wasn't even a sure thing with Blizzard, yet, so how could he expect freebies from other companies at his level? There were a ton of streamers more popular than he was, and he really wished he had a few on call to ask for some advice.
Every single Blizzard employee that he saw smiled and waved to him, which he took to mean that his streaming for them was going to be a sure thing, but he didn't want to get ahead of himself. The important thing for right now was to just keep his presence regular, stream whenever he could and keep advancing in the ranks. His goal for the next competitive season was Master, and he was determined to get there. He didn't need a sponsorship or a free chair to do that.
Jungkook's most surreal moment came toward the end of the convention, when either things were winding down, or he was—he couldn't tell if he was slowly becoming more and more exhausted or if the con was simply ending. A man, shorter than him and wearing a suit that made him look like he'd wandered into the wrong place, approached him.
Very ready to give him directions back to the main lobby so he could leave, Jungkook had already lifted his arm to point when he realized the man had introduced himself.
"Sorry?" Jungkook asked, hoping he would repeat his name and—the entire rest of what he'd said.
"I said I'm a manager," he repeated, not giving enough information at all.
"Oh," Jungkook said. "Well, I'm—not really interested in a manager at—at this point, but thank—"
The man interrupted him with a laugh. "No, no. I'm the manager of a local team out here. Nothing too big, yet, but with someone like you in our ranks, I feel like we'd go far. We could use another strong DPS player, and you're definitely what we're looking for."
Jungkook froze in place. A manager, wanting him to join their team? That—it was what he wanted. It was what he had always wanted. But—they were local, which meant he'd definitely need to move out here, and he didn't think he could stand the thought of moving that far away from his boyfriends for a team that might not even be worth it. He had never even heard of this guy, and he made it a point to check out regional teams, even the small ones.
The man, who was still nameless, was looking at him expectantly.
"I—" Jungkook tried to say. "Do you have a—a card, maybe? I would like some time to think about it."
"Yes! Yes, of course," he said, reaching into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. He held out a business card between his first two fingers. Jungkook took it and pocketed it without even looking. He was going to pass this up. He couldn't seriously consider moving unless it was really worth his while. And as harsh as it was—an unknown team wasn't a good enough reason to put even more distance between himself and his boyfriends. Not even close to good enough.
"I'll get back to you," Jungkook said, tapping his pocket so the man would think he'd remember. "Thanks."
"Looking forward to it," he replied, watching as Jungkook sidled away from him, melding back into the crowd so he could make his way back to his hotel room and call Taehyung.
Which is exactly what he did, and honestly almost immediately regretted it.
"You have got to be kidding me," Taehyung scolded him, as soon as Jungkook told him what happened. "This is an amazing opportunity!"
"But I'll have to move out here," Jungkook whined—he wasn't above whining when he really didn't want to do something. He'd picked that up from Jimin. "And I've never even heard of this team."
"How do you know you'll have to move?" Taehyung asked. "Did you ask him? Did you get any information at all other than his business card?"
Caught, Jungkook sat down on the edge of his bed. "No."
"So how do you know?"
"He said they're local."
"Look, I—I don't want to join some small team that might not even get off the ground."
Taehyung sighed, pausing before he answered. "You could be the why they do get off the ground. He approached you for a reason. The least you could do is talk to him."
Jungkook toed the carpet below his feet. Taehyung had a point, but Jungkook had a very specific idea in mind for how he'd wanted things to go, and betraying that plan seemed wrong. "Maybe. I think I want to see how this Blizzard sponsorship thing goes before I check out any teams."
"That could be better in the long run, I guess," Taehyung said. Then, he huffed a laugh, and Jungkook could almost predict every word he said next. "I just don't get why you wouldn't go for this."
"It's not that easy," Jungkook replied, trying to buy himself some time. And it wasn't, not to him—he knew Taehyung would say it was silly for him not to want to move away, since they were already doing a long distance thing, but that was easy for him to say. He lived with Jimin. And taking a bus into New York City was ten times easier than having to figure out how to pay for and subsequently deal with flights across the country.
And that wasn't even the only reason—there was still part of him that wanted to impress Jimin. Jimin, who thought the whole thing was fundamentally a little ridiculous just be default; Jimin, who Jungkook was afraid wouldn't take him seriously unless he was successful right off the bat; Jimin, who he was half sure didn't even believe that being a professional gamer was a success.
But then there was Taehyung, who never ceased to surprise him.
"I know it's tough," he said. "Whatever you want to do, me and Jimin support you. Ok?"
Jungkook remained silent for a few moments more, then nodded to himself. "Yeah. Ok. They said it might be the winter event that I'll stream for—so. That could be really good."
"They'll probably want you to stream for them indefinitely. You're going to be famous and own the company someday," Taehyung said, and Jungkook could hear the smile in his voice. It made him smile too, especially when he heard Jimin in the background saying that if Jungkook owned the company he wanted a D.Va spin-off game that was easy for people like him to play.
"You mean people with no hand-eye coordination?" Jungkook quipped, drawing an easy laugh from Taehyung and an indignant scoff from Jimin, leaving him wondering how long he'd been on speakerphone.
"I have hand-eye coordination," Jimin shouted; his voice was still quiet, meaning he couldn't be near the phone. "You have literally never complained before when I touch your di—"
"Time to hang up," Taehyung said. "See you this weekend for Jimin's play, right?"
"Right," Jungkook answered. "Love you. And Jimin."
"Love you too," they both said, and Jungkook let himself fall flat on the bed.
It felt to Jungkook that he had barely gotten home from the airport before he was heading right back out to the bus station. His days since BlizzCon had been spent streaming, working out, texting his boyfriends, dodging questions from his parents, and wondering how in the hell he’d gotten nearly ten thousand new subscribers in less than a week.
If he was the type to Google himself, he probably could have found some answers, but that was more Jimin’s speed—Jungkook was content as he was, just grateful that people were watching him play and giving Blizzard more of a reason to want him to stream.
He received an email from them just as he was settling himself down onto the bus for the ride to New York—his phone dinged in his pocket, and he made a mental note not to forget to check what it was before he inevitably dozed off during the trip east.
With his bag stowed safely beneath the seat in front of him, Jungkook leaned slightly to the side to remove his phone from his pocket. He had a few Twitter notifications, and a couple texts from Taehyung, but he swiped them away in favor of checking his email first. Deleting the bullshit spam he got every day from every website he’d ever purchased anything on, he zeroed in on the email from Blizzard last, and felt his breath catch. He didn’t even read the subject—he just opened the message, eyes skimming the text over and over before it finally sunk in on maybe the fourth time.
They were extending an invitation for him to stream during the upcoming Lunar New Year event, starting in February. That was just short of three months away, but Jungkook could barely contain himself. He fidgeted in his seat, and had just typed out a text in the group chat with Jimin and Taehyung before he stopped himself. Today was supposed to be Jimin’s big day—his play was opening its doors tonight, and he was so excited about it. He’d been sending Jungkook pictures on Snapchat all week of the stage setup and costumes, as well as selfies with nearly every single one of his costars. Jungkook couldn’t steal his thunder—he would just wait until after the play, after the afterparty, to tell them. They had the whole weekend ahead of them.
Jungkook had come to visit enough that when he had to make his way from Port Authority to Taehyung’s apartment, it was almost second nature. He arrived, climbing the stairs as quickly as he could, his backpack and duffel bag weighing him down somewhat, but when he knocked on the appropriate door and Taehyung greeted him, he didn’t feel encumbered at all. His boyfriend’s arms wrapped around him, managing to slip beneath the backpack to hold him tight.
“Jimin’s at the theater,” Taehyung said, answering the question that Jungkook was about to ask. “We’ll go over later. He barely even looked at me when he left this morning.” He laughed. “He can only focus on one thing at a time, I guess.”
“We know that’s true,” Jungkook said, bustling in past Taehyung and kicking off his shoes while Taehyung closed the door behind him. He lifted the strap of the larger bag from Jungkook’s shoulder, taking it to deposit it in their bedroom. Jungkook followed him down the hallway, shrugging off his backpack and dropping it on top of his duffel bag. He shucked off his hoodie, too, tossing it onto the unmade bed.
He turned to look at Taehyung, sitting at his desk, chair swiveled around to face Jungkook.
“Wanna play a little?” he asked, reaching behind him to jostle the mouse; behind him, the computer whirred to life.
“I did bring my laptop,” Jungkook said. “And...I should probably get in as much practice as I can.”
“You should let me stream on your channel,” Taehyung joked, earning himself a look and an eyeroll from Jungkook, but in just a few minutes, they were both grouped and queued up for competitive play.
“How did you finish last season again?” Jungkook asked, bent over his laptop; he would grow uncomfortable before long, but the only other option to him was sitting in the kitchen, and he wasn’t about to willingly put an entire room between himself and Taehyung, since he finally did have a choice in the matter.
“Plat,” Taehyung replied, his back to Jungkook. “Hope I don’t drag you down.”
He turned to look over his shoulder, and Jungkook snickered in reply; Taehyung was good at the game, and from what Jungkook could tell, he’d gotten even better since they started playing together.
“You couldn’t if you tried,” he said. The timer at the top of their screens was still counting up as the game searched for somewhere to put them; they had a few moments to kill, so Jungkook bit his lip—even if they only played two games, it would be worth it to stream. His thoughts flashed back to that little boy at BlizzCon who liked Taehyung, and the decision was made for him—he opened up Twitch and informed his boyfriend that he was going to be streaming.
It didn’t go terribly—they won the first two games and lost the third, but Jungkook had gotten a few donations out of sympathy, and when they finally logged off, he didn’t even mind losing a match.
“So...how far off Broadway is Jimin’s play?” Jungkook asked as he and Taehyung both crowded into the bathroom, having changed into nicer clothing than they’d been wearing. Taehyung opted for a button-down dress shirt, and was currently debating on wearing a tie; Jungkook had on a polo shirt, so that choice had been made for him.
“Um,” Taehyung replied, tongue between his teeth as he draped the tie over the back of his neck—he’d chosen to wear it after all. “Not very?” He paused, fingers nimbly working. “Off-Broadway doesn’t just mean it’s not on the actual street, Broadway,” he went on. “It refers to the size of the theater.”
Jungkook adjusted the collar of his shirt, frowning at Taehyung in the mirror. “Ok, don’t act like you knew that the whole time. I bet you didn’t.”
Taehyung tried to keep a straight face, but he ended up smirking and then laughing the longer Jungkook glared at him. “Yeah, fine. Jimin told me.”
Jungkook backhanded his arm, but he was smiling too. “I bet you asked the same damn question I did.”
“Guilty,” Taehyung confirmed, darting away as Jungkook made to chase him, but he stopped once Taehyung was clear of the bathroom door. Now that he had the mirror to himself, Jungkook was able to fix his hair, making sure that it looked presentable and not quite as mussed as it usually did.
The subway back downtown was crowded, but Jungkook didn’t quite mind—he had used to hate the bustle of the city, the way no one seemed to pay any mind to anyone else, but it seemed that he’d grown fonder of the place this trip. Part of him thought maybe it was simply because he’d been in such a good mood lately—everything had been going right for him, so who was he to hold it against New York City just because it was crowded and hot and smelly?
If Jimin hadn’t hyped the play so much, Jungkook surely would have been shocked by the amount of people milling about outside. But as it was, he was certain that the crowd was deserved. He didn’t know too much about the play, but he knew Jimin, well enough to know that he wouldn’t bother with anything that wasn’t worth his time.
They had arrived early, but were still far back on the line when the staff managed to organize the crowd. Jimin had procured them great seats: third row, dead center—he’d said that they wouldn’t have to crane their necks too much a little further back, and sitting down, they found that it was true.
The theater was small, smaller than others that Jungkook had been in, so he supposed that the size really did determine whether something was “Off-Broadway.” He would have to remember to poke fun at Jimin about it later.
Around them, the crowd was buzzing, waiting impatiently for the show to begin—and when the lights finally dimmed, a relieved hush fell over the audience.
Jimin had told them that the play was about the Peanuts characters—but Jungkook didn’t really know the source material well enough to understand who anyone was besides the main character. CB, that is—or Charlie Brown. He decided to stop focusing on trying to figure out who everyone was and instead focus on the story—which was just as sad and poignant as Jimin had told him months ago, and when the full cast came out to bow, Taehyung and Jungkook were two of the first on their feet to clap, making sure Jimin saw them. They didn’t miss the way his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, either.
“It’s fucking freezing,” Jungkook said, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket, curling his fingers into fists.
“I definitely told you to pack a winter jacket,” Taehyung said, warm in his suede coat, a scarf around his neck, gloves adorning his hands. “It’s not my fault that neither of my boyfriends listens to me.”
“You could have let me borrow one of yours.”
A glare—playful, but still. “You’re, like, made of muscle. You’re essentially Doomfist while I’m, like… Junkrat.”
“Shut up immediately,” Jimin said, out of nowhere—they hadn’t even noticed him exit the stage door of the theater. He threw an arm around each of their shoulders, standing on his tiptoes to do it. “That sounds like Overwatch talk, and we all know how I feel about that.”
“You’re not Junkrat,” Jungkook said, ignoring Jimin who groaned loudly in his ear. “At the very least you’re...Hanzo.”
Taehyung mock-gasped, hand to his chest in faux pain, but Jimin interjected.
“No Overwatch. None! Just Jimin tonight, it’s my night, and what I say goes and I say no Overwatch.”
Jungkook turned, trying to give Taehyung a look, but he only met Jimin’s pouting face instead, his lower lip jutting out in an exaggerated frown.
“Fine, no Overwatch,” Jungkook agreed, drawing a laugh from Taehyung—neither of them could deny Jimin anything and they both knew it. “Where are we going?”
“Everyone’s heading to this bar a couple streets over,” Jimin replied, ignoring Jungkook’s whispered “actually Off-Broadway,” because the sheer number of times Taehyung had tried to make that same joke had made Jimin immune to it. He pointed at a large group, hollering and singing as they made their way down the sidewalk. “We don’t have to stay long, but—we can go, right?”
“Of course,” Taehyung said, curling an arm around Jimin’s waist and kissing him. Jungkook watched, a soft half-smile on his face—he was right here with them, but part of him still felt far away, even as Jimin reached out to take his hand and tug him along down the street.
The bar was a dive, which meant it was absolutely perfect in Jungkook’s eyes. The cast and minimal crew of the show were already there when Jimin led his boyfriends in, but their drinks had already been ordered and were waiting for them on the bar. Jimin’s costars—and friends, as they had become—were warm and welcoming, and quite a few of them even asked Jungkook how the pro gaming thing was going. He felt a burst of affection in his chest for Jimin, because the only way they’d have known was if he’d told them, and maybe that meant he didn’t think Jungkook’s lifelong dream was a waste of time after all.
A true afterparty, it didn’t wind down until the end of the night—the bartender ringing an actual bell to attract attention and shout that it was last call, only to be rushed by half the people still there for more drinks and to close out tabs.
Jimin was amongst them, grabbing one last round—beers for Taehyung and Jungkook, but some kind of technicolored shot for himself—and when he returned to their table, he had just a bit of trouble climbing back onto his stool.
“Toast,” Jimin said, the word just edging on slurred; he lifted his shot glass up, waiting for Jungkook and Taehyung to do the same.
“To us?” Jungkook suggested. Taehyung met his eyes, nodding, but Jimin only clinked their glasses and half-shouted, “To me!” so apparently that was what they were going with.
“To Jimin,” Taehyung echoed, laughing quietly as Jungkook shook his head, endlessly amused. Jimin knocked back the shot while Taehyung and Jungkook took big sips from their glasses, downing nearly half a glass each in one.
“I actually have, um,” Jungkook began. “Something to tell you guys.”
“Do I need another shot?” Jimin said, wobbling a little as he turned to slip off his stool.
“No,” Jungkook said, quickly, reaching out to grab Jimin’s arm. “No, just listen.”
Obediently, Jimin turned back around, crossing his arms and letting his elbows rest on the table in front of him, looking intently at Jungkook the same way Taehyung was.
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Jungkook went on, “not tonight—but this has been so fun and such a good time—”
“I’m getting another shot,” Jimin said, but Jungkook took hold of his arm again, keeping him in place.
“Blizzard emailed me earlier today.” Taehyung perked up immediately, but it took Jimin a bit longer to remember what that was. “They want me to stream for the Lunar New Year event.”
“Kook, that’s—” Taehyung tried to say, but he was drowned out by Jimin.
“Jungkook, seriously?” Jimin asked, leaning over the table closer to him. He smelled like sugar and vodka. “That’s incredible.” He was drunk, but Jungkook could tell that he was being as serious as he could be in that moment, inebriation aside. “Jungkook, that’s incredible.”
Jungkook glanced at Taehyung, who returned his smile, even though Jimin had reached out to turn Jungkook’s face back toward him.
“I’m proud of you,” Jimin said, then placed both hands flat on the table and stood up, feet balancing on the crossbar of his stool. Both Jungkook and Taehyung lunged forward to try and keep him steady as he addressed every single bar patron, which didn’t include just his fellow actors.
“Excuse me?” he said, sounding markedly more drunk than he had just a moment ago. “Excuse me, everyone?”
“Jimin,” Jungkook said, trying to pull him back down to sit—and most importantly, to shut up.
“My boyfriend, Jungkook—that’s this one—” he said, reaching down to muss Taehyung’s hair without looking. “No wait, this one.” Realizing his mistake, he placed both hands on Jungkook’s head, threading his fingers through his hair. “This one is a professional gamer. I know, it sounds ridiculous.”
Jungkook didn’t bother looking at Taehyung, because he knew that his expression would give away how he felt—embarrassed, and pathetic—and he didn’t want Taehyung to see that.
“It might be a little ridiculous. But it’s not that ridiculous,” Jimin said, still going on. He had the attention of about a third of the people still in the bar and even that was waning. “Blizzard has just asked him to stream for an event. This is the highest honor he could receive. None of you will ever get to stream for Blizzard. Thank you.”
He stayed standing for a moment, like he had forgotten how to sit, and it was only when Taehyung got up and rounded the table, guiding Jimin’s ass back down with both hands on his hips, did he bend his knees and lower himself.
“Even though I don’t understand your job,” Jimin said, ignoring Taehyung and darting forward to steal a kiss from Jungkook, “I still am happy for you, Jungkook-ah.”
Taehyung met his eyes over Jimin’s shoulder, an apologetic look on his face, but Jungkook didn’t look to him for help.
“Thanks,” he said. Jimin had been half nice and half crass with his impromptu speech, but Jungkook felt that it was genuine. Maybe he thought being a professional video game player was ridiculous—and if Jungkook let himself think about it for too long, he could admit that it kind of might be, sometimes—but he was still supportive. It was the bare minimum of what Jungkook could ask for, sure, but after he proved himself, then Jimin would understand.
And he would prove himself.
They left the bar much drunker than they’d intended to get. An Uber was a necessity, because once they were out on the street instead of sitting stationary in a bar, it became crystal clear that there was no way they could navigate the subway in their condition.
The late hour made the trip uptown relatively painless and quick, though the stairs up to the apartment were a different story. There was a slight incident in the corridor when Taehyung was certain that he’d locked his keys in the apartment, even though Jungkook tried to point out that he couldn’t have locked the door without having his keys on his person.
Jimin unlocked the door, and as soon as he did, Jungkook found Taehyung’s keys in the pouch pocket of his hoodie.
Too tired and not half sober enough to deck out the living room floor with blankets for the three of them to sleep on, they simply stripped down to their underwear and piled onto the bed, too close for comfort, even though Jungkook being sandwiched in between his two boyfriends was all he’d been craving since he stepped foot on the plane out to the west coast a week ago.
The rest of the weekend passed both too quickly and too slowly—Jungkook trailed behind his boyfriends as they led him into Port Authority, seeing him off even though they hadn’t been available to meet him there two days prior.
“Next time we’ll come visit you,” Jimin offered—a first, at least that Jungkook could remember. His family home had been off-limits since this whole thing had started between them, and he’d thought that it had been understood why.
“I mean,” Jungkook said, scuffing his foot as they stood just off to the side of the main entrance, so as not to block anyone walking in. “My parents don’t know I’m dating two guys.”
Taehyung, at least, tried to look sympathetic—but Jimin snickered.
“So which of us do they think you’re dating?”
Jungkook shrugged, then looked between them. “Probably Tae.”
He wasn’t sure what he’d thought Jimin’s reaction would be, but when he laughed, Jungkook paused.
“Show them a picture of me and they’ll understand why you couldn’t just stop at one,” he quipped, stepping closer to Jungkook and draping his arms over his shoulders, around his neck. Taehyung was rolling his eyes behind him, amused, but Jungkook was living for the affection.
He hadn’t really let on that what happened at the bar had upset him—mostly because he had forgotten about it until the next afternoon, when he saw Blizzard’s email in his inbox again, and then it all flooded back. He’d suppressed the urge to sink into misery and channeled his frustration into a trip to the gym, where Jimin and Taehyung tagged along even though there were a million places they’d rather be.
“My mother would probably date you herself if she wasn’t already married,” Jungkook said. He considered that. “And my mom.”
Jimin pecked him on the lips, lingering against Jungkook’s mouth before pulling away; his heavy-lidded eyes enthralling. “Ew,” he replied.
“Not to break apart this sight for very, very sore eyes,” Taehyung said, “but he’s gonna miss his bus if you keep trying to jump his bones in the middle of Port Authority.”
“Like you can blame me,” Jimin said, holding Jungkook’s gaze for another moment, kissing him again before stepping back to let Taehyung do the same. “We’ll come out if you want,” he continued, his voice soft as Taehyung tucked some of Jungkook’s hair behind his ear as they kissed, too. “We can get a hotel.”
“He can put us up,” Taehyung said, poking Jungkook’s chest playfully. “I heard your donation sound go off a few times last night.”
“I’m gonna miss my bus,” Jungkook joked hurriedly, making like he had to run—but he actually did. He hiked his bag up higher on his shoulder and turned to look for the correct gate; Taehyung pointed him in the right direction, and he took off toward it.
“Love you!” Jimin called after him.
“Love you too,” Jungkook shouted back, turning to look over his shoulder as he added, “and Taehyung!” and then, he was gone.
There were so many times that Taehyung had almost made the trip out to Jungkook’s.
Jimin was busy with the play, but Taehyung—it was easier for him to get away, since it wasn’t like he had photography jobs rolling in constantly.
But every time, Jungkook told him not to come.
“I don’t want to have to explain us to my parents without both of you there,” Jungkook said, and Taehyung figured—that made sense. “Just come after Jimin’s play is over.”
Jimin agreed—he thought it would be more fun to go see Jungkook together, the three of them, for the first time.
They set the plans when Jimin’s play announced it was closing mid-March, giving fans and patrons of the theater another couple of months to get tickets to a show. Jimin prepared for his first stage acting job to end, while Jungkook was preparing for his first official stream.
Jungkook was nervous—not that he could pinpoint why, since he had streamed almost daily for the better part of a year—but there was just something about this stream, set for the end of February, before the Lunar New Year event would be over.
It went better than he could have hoped—he was one of many streamers that Blizzard had organized to participate, and Jungkook had actually needed Taehyung to help moderate the chat during his assigned, and promoted, timeslot.
His subscriber count increased dramatically, his donations notification pinged near constantly in his ear, and even Taehyung lost track of who needed banning and who was spamming. It was, all in all, the best stream that Jungkook had ever done. His parents didn’t quite understand everything that he was telling them about the stream and the opportunity—but they did understand that he was making money from it, and even though it wasn't a job that they approved of, it was still, technically, a job, and with the stream behind him, Jungkook could focus on the other aspect of his life, that his parents knew only somewhat about: his boyfriends.
Jimin and Taehyung had bought bus tickets for the last weekend in March—Taehyung had picked up a few jobs that he couldn't reschedule, and Jimin had booked a couple auditions now that the play was over. Jungkook had fully intended to explain the nature of his relationship to his parents, but all he got out was, "Eomma, Appa—I need to talk to you about Taehyung—" before they were interrupting and explaining that they understood. That his life was his own, and far be it from them to impose their beliefs on him, when he didn't even listen to them anyway, considering his career path.
He felt bad about excluding Jimin, even though it was unintentional, and he figured it might be easier to just explain it to his parents when all three of them were together. He wasn't looking forward to it, but at least professional gaming was almost panning out, so they couldn't lay into him about that, too.
Taehyung had bought tickets for the early bus, which Jungkook had found out when an upset Jimin facetimed him at the crack of dawn, whining about having to get up so early ("You're waking me up this early, too," Jungkook half-groaned, face buried in his pillow). The upside was that he'd be seeing them sooner than he expected, and when the bus pulled up to the station and Jungkook stepped out of his dad's SUV, the resulting hug was the best he'd felt since his stream had netted him all of those sweet, sweet donations.
Taehyung kissed him first, and then Jimin—and then each other, just for good measure. They piled into the car, Jimin musing about how neither of them had their license, and in the short time that it took to drive back to Jungkook's house, he'd somehow been wrangled into giving the pair of them driving lessons.
"This isn't my car, though," Jungkook said, shutting off the engine and unlocking the doors, the three of them exiting to stand on the driveway. "So I don't really think it's the best idea?"
"We'll be careful," Jimin said, lifting his bag to shoulder it, only to proffer it to Jungkook when he held out an outstretched hand after rounding the car. He took Taehyung's too, wheeling it behind him up the front walkway. "This place is so quaint."
Jungkook looked back over his shoulder, adjusting the strap of Jimin's bag where it was slung across his body. "Sorry there's actually room to walk around out here, without bumping into 47 people and a fire hydrant at the same time."
Jimin's only response was to stick out his tongue and cling to Taehyung's arm; it made Jungkook smile a little, because he loved Jimin's incessant sass and Taehyung's inherent calmness, but he knew his parents would question his boyfriend—as far as they knew, his only boyfriend—being affectionate with another man.
Ignoring every impulse he had to say something to them, he opened the front door and stepped over the threshold.
"Eomma, Appa," he called, hearing the creak of the sofa springs from the den through the kitchen. "We're here."
Jungkook let go of Taehyung's bag, slipping Jimin's off to put it down. All he saw of them before his parents appeared was Jimin holding himself even closer to Taehyung. He'd told Jungkook that Jimin was nervous—apparently he'd been nervous meeting Taehyung's parents too, and that was when there was only two of them in their relationship, so possible judgement about the unorthodox nature of their trio would definitely get to him, too.
"Ah, hello," Jungkook's mother said, sweetly—before the smile on her face dipped down at the corners at the sight of Jungkook standing alone, and the other two young men in the room holding hands, Jimin's arm coiled around Taehyung's. "It's lovely to meet you."
It almost sounded like a question, like maybe Jungkook had gotten dumped and then Taehyung brought his new boyfriend along, but even as his parents watched, Jimin reached out to take Jungkook's hand, tugging him over, like he was a human shield.
"Eomma, these are my boyfriends," Jungkook said, feeling his heart pounding in his throat—nervous, like the first time he'd gone up against another Widow in comp, needing to pop off the headshot so his team could push forward. Metaphorically, this situation was exactly the same—head off any comments from his parents and protect the payload while he escorted it to safety (he made a mental note to never, ever tell Taehyung that he just referred to his boyfriends as the payload).
"Boyfriends?" his father repeated, emphasizing the s, like he'd misheard, maybe.
"Yeah," Jungkook said. "It's the three of us."
And the three of them were met with dead silence, two pairs of eyes moving over the way they were all standing together, Jimin in the middle, his fingers laced with Jungkook's, arm still wrapped around Taehyung's.
"You will have enough trouble supporting yourself with Overtime," his father said, getting the name wrong—but Jungkook couldn't focus on that, because he went on. "Much less two other people."
There was a moment of shocked silence, and then Taehyung broke it. "We—I mean, we also have jobs."
"What do you do?" Jungkook's mother asked, folding her hands in front of her and nodding to the two of them.
"I'm a photographer," Taehyung said, "and Jimin is an actor."
"Aigoo," Jungkook's father said, actually lifting his hands to cover his face for a moment. Jungkook looked on, unsure of exactly what was happening. "Video games, pictures, acting—they will be living off of us forever."
"Are—what?" Jungkook asked, looking at Jimin, then Taehyung, then back to his parents.
"Jungkook-ah," his mother said, stepping forward to cup his face in both hands. "We love you, and we just want the best for you." She leaned up to kiss him on the cheek, but he was so much taller than her that she could barely manage it. "If it is these two, then it is these two." She kissed Jimin's cheek next—much easier, because he was the shortest—and then Taehyung, who was grinning, wide and rectangular. "But please, pick a real job."
Leaving a stunned Jungkook with a bemused Jimin and an overjoyed Taehyung, they turned and headed back to the den, the sofa creaking once more as they sat down.
"What the fuck," Jungkook mumbled, but Taehyung had slipped away from Jimin, bouncing over to stand in front of Jungkook.
"I thought you didn't tell them about us?" Taehyung asked, reaching out blindly behind himself for the handle of his suitcase, which he didn't manage to grasp.
"I didn't," Jungkook said, looking around Taehyung after his parents, but they were nowhere to be seen.
"They took us all being together pretty well," Jimin commented, also stepping forward. He took hold of Taehyung's wrist, guiding his fingers to the handle of his case, and then picking up his own bag to head upstairs. "Although I could have done without the job stuff."
"I'm—floored," Jungkook admitted, licking the corner of his mouth before shaking his head once, back and forth. "I guess this is a good thing."
"Maybe they're just cutting their losses," Jimin said, snickering. "You'll never marry a nice girl and have two-point-five kids and live in a house with a picket fence as a pro gamer," he said, ignoring Jungkook's glare, "so they'll settle for two Korean guys as long as you get the other parts of your life together."
"What do we see in him again?" Jungkook asked Taehyung, pushing at Jimin a little; it didn't work, and Jimin only pressed himself closer to Jungkook, even as he started to lead them toward the staircase.
"He tolerates us right back," Taehyung replied, and the three of them laughed together as they headed up to Jungkook's bedroom.
Dinner had been, actually, nice. Jungkook had almost thought that his parents acceptance of his relationship had been a fluke, but his mother had gladly taken Jimin up on his offer of help in the kitchen (“I can be your sous chef,” he’d said, and she’d laughed jovially), while Taehyung and his father were chattering away in Korean in the den, leaving Jungkook to hover between the rooms, unsure of where he should go, who he should stay with. It was bewildering to think that his parents were ok with this, but they had accepted the knowledge that he was dating one guy with a decent amount of grace, so maybe they'd just decided to go with the flow.
"Kook," Taehyung called, and Jungkook was marginally glad for the distraction. If his parents were going to act normal—or maybe just straight up be normal, then he would too.
"Yeah?" Jungkook asked, striding into the den and taking a seat on the ottoman that his father usually propped his feet up on while watching television.
"Are you streaming tonight?" Taehyung asked.
Jungkook's gaze flicked to his father—but while he was looking at Jungkook, he didn't make any sort of expression that would have led Jungkook to believe he was displeased.
"Yeah, I thought so," Jungkook said. "You can play some too, if you want."
"Great," Taehyung said, beaming at him—and Jungkook could have sworn he saw his father smile, too, though he pretended to look away at the TV when he realized he'd been spotted. It wasn’t even on, so he’d been caught, but Jungkook didn’t say anything to him either.
Jimin was sent to fetch them shortly after, interrupting their small talk, but the five of them crowded around the table that usually only held four. Jungkook’s brother was absent—he’d moved out long ago—but Jimin certainly didn’t mind having to squeeze in between his two boyfriends.
Jungkook was actually spared his parents’ typical questioning about whether he had found work yet, something close to home that might still allow him to stream at the same time—instead, they were focused on Jimin and Taehyung, their careers, their achievements. And when the three of them were finally dismissed from the table, Jungkook’s mother didn’t even force any combination of the three of them to do the dishes.
Instead, Jungkook trudged upstairs, his boyfriends trailing after him. Part of him expected one of his parents to ask him to keep the door open once they were all in his bedroom, but they didn't. He wasn't quite used to this whole being treated like an adult thing, but he could get behind it for sure.
"So," Jimin said, sitting on Jungkook's bed. "Threesome now or...now?"
"We can't," Jungkook said, choosing to sit at his desk chair; Taehyung was hovering by him, leaning against the desk—but he was looking over his shoulder at Jungkook's setup. "My parents."
"Is it too late to book a hotel?" Jimin asked, earning himself a disapproving look from Taehyung and a pained one from Jungkook.
"We came to spend time with Kookie," Taehyung said, in a voice that told Jungkook that they'd discussed this before. "Not to suck his dick."
"Hey," Jimin said, holding up one hand, his index finger pointing right at Taehyung's face. "We both agreed that getting to suck his dick would be a bonus to seeing him."
"We'll see how things go," Jungkook said. "They do work during the week, you know."
Jimin smiled a bit, appeased, and stood up from the bed to stand behind Jungkook. Even as the youngest reached to turn on his computer, Jimin bent over his desk chair, wrapping his arms around him and hugging him from the back.
"I missed you so much," he murmured into Jungkook's neck, his face tucked there. Jungkook felt Jimin's eyelashes tickling him as he turned to look up at Taehyung, who was watching, a soft smile on his face. Jungkook understood—as much as Jimin wanted to pretend to be aloof and only interested in one thing, he really did love Jungkook.
"I missed you too," Jungkook replied, turning to try and look at Jimin, whose chin brushed over his shoulder before he lifted it away to make eye contact. "And Tae."
Jimin held his gaze for a second before leaning in, kissing Jungkook gently, but deepening the kiss as it went on. Jungkook swiveled his chair a little, making it easier on them both by facing Jimin a bit more, and the kiss only ended when Jimin pulled away, his nose bumping Jungkook's as he did.
"You good?" Taehyung asked. "Satisfied for the time being?"
"Shut up," said both Jimin and Jungkook in unison, though Jungkook reached out to hit Taehyung's arm with the back of his hand. "He has to see your sorry face every day. He missed me."
"You two deserve each other," Taehyung said, standing up from where he'd been leaning on the desk. "So—want to stream a bit now? Jimin is gonna want to watch a movie later tonight. It's Friday."
"We can't break tradition just because we're at Jungkook's house," Jimin said, even though Jungkook was trying to say that was fine, and he didn't have to stream for long because he usually didn't stream on Friday evenings. "We just have to envelop him in all of ours and he has no choice but to follow along."
"You two really know how to charm a guy," Jungkook said, jostling the computer mouse. His computer woke from sleep—he hadn't touched it for a few minutes after turning it on, and saving power was a thing. "But yeah, we'll stream for a little and then Jimin can pick whatever movie he wants."
"Can we take over the living room?" Jimin asked, as Taehyung crossed to his suitcase, unzipping it to remove his laptop.
"Yes, but no dicks," Jungkook said absently, already logging into Twitch and Overwatch.
"I'll mod?" Taehyung asked, settling himself onto Jungkook's bed.
"Yeah," Jungkook said, checking how he looked in the webcam. Taehyung was visible—he hoped for a second the kid from BlizzCon was watching—and so was Jimin. He was reclining on Jungkook's bed, scrolling on his phone. "Jimin, you ok with being on camera?"
A brief pause met the question, and then Taehyung burst into laughter as Jimin gave Jungkook the filthiest look he'd ever seen in his life.
"I am an ac-tor," Jimin said, emphasizing the second syllable. "I belong on camera. Can you just stream my face in your little corner box instead of you?"
"Ok, I'm hopping on," Jungkook said, ignoring both his boyfriends laughing at him. He would wait a little to say hi to anyone watching, probably until the chat really started going, but he queued into a game anyway, picking Widowmaker as soon as he could.
He could see the chat scrolling on his second computer monitor—a new purchase that he'd gotten himself with some Christmas money, but he didn't pay any attention to it because Taehyung was making sure to address any issues.
After the first couple games he'd played—Quick Play, just to warm up—he leaned into the computer to look at the chat. He said hi to everyone watching and introduced Taehyung and Jimin. The chat flurried with messages about Taehyung, who they all knew about but had never seen, and he even agreed to put his laptop aside to step closer to Jungkook's webcam.
"Jimin, you wanna come say hi?" Jungkook asked, his voice low and away from the mic he would use until he plugged in his headset.
But Jimin was smiling at his phone, not paying attention at first. "What?" he asked, a beat too late. "No, I'm good."
Jungkook watched him as he looked back at his phone and smiled—and then it clicked.
"Are you watching Taehyung right now?" Jungkook asked, pushing up and out of his chair, which Taehyung sat in, mugging for the camera.
"What?" Jimin asked, but this time he sounded like he'd just been found out. "No!"
Jungkook snatched for the phone, managing to grab it and turning to look at the screen. Sure enough—Taehyung was looking back up at him, reading comments from the chat and responding to them.
"God, you're whipped," Jungkook said, laughing and not bothering to put up a fight when Jimin grabbed for his phone. He let Jimin take it back, then returned to his desk chair; Taehyung vacated it for him, waving to the webcam with a "Bye guys!"
"I think some of them like me better than you," Taehyung muttered as Jungkook slipped past him to sit down. "Not surprised."
"Let's go 1v1 on Widow and see what they think," Jungkook replied, turning away from his webcam to reach out for Taehyung's hand. He blocked it with his body, but he still brought the back of Taehyung's hand to his lips to kiss, since he didn't think he could hide that from the camera.
"They'd think you were a merciless killer," Taehyung said, flopping back onto Jungkook's bed, laying on his stomach as he focused back on the chat. "You doing comp now?"
"Yeah," Jungkook said, turning back around and reaching for his headset. "Doing comp now."
The chat burst back to life, the messages to Taehyung buried beneath random messages about how Jungkook would carry his team, mixed with spammers. Taehyung did his best to ban those, typing reminders not to send more than a couple emotes a message, if they absolutely had to.
Jungkook played a few matches, and sometimes he did carry his team; others, he was picked off again and again by another Widow, or somehow even worse—a Hanzo. His skill rating remained pretty much the same—wins and losses factored in to keep him leveled at Master, even though he'd managed to just graze Grandmaster last season before dropping back out.
"Hey, um," Taehyung started to say, "Kook?"
The last match he'd decided to play was just ending, and Jungkook gave an upvote to the Zenyatta on their team, whose heals had been top notch before leaving the match. He waved goodbye to his viewers, threw up his fingers in a V, and then turned off the webcam, ending his stream.
"Kook," Taehyung said again, but Jungkook still didn't look back, instead logging out of Blizzard and Twitch, shutting down his computer.
"Movie time?" Jungkook asked in response, standing up and smoothing out his shirt around his waist. "Have anythi—"
"Kook," Taehyung said. "Are you joining a team?"
"What?" Jungkook blurted out, looking from Taehyung to Jimin, like he'd know anything about it. "What team?"
"That's all people started talking about in the chat once you were in comp," Taehyung said. "Apparently there's rumors that you're going to join a team soon."
"Uh, no," Jungkook said, laughing a little at the thought. "No, I haven't even been thinking about that. I—I mean, it's not like I have any connections, and what team would even want me? I can't even make Grandmaster for longer than a couple matches."
"Some people seemed like they were hearing teams want to sign you," Taehyung said. He lifted one shoulder, half shrugging.
"That's exciting," Jimin said, sounding marginally like he actually thought so. He paused, looking between Jungkook and Taehyung. "Right?"
"I'm not signing to a team," Jungkook said, shrugging right back. "I haven't seen or heard anything from anyone. I just stream for now."
Taehyung licked the corner of his mouth—he believed Jungkook, but he also knew that was his dream. Even if he didn't join a team now—he probably would eventually. And Overwatch central was basically California. Soon, Jungkook wouldn't have to travel very far at all to attend BlizzCon.
When Jungkook had brought it up to him months ago, it had been something he’d been excited for. But now that it was closer to a reality, the thought made him uneasy—he was getting ahead of himself, but part of him wanted Jungkook to stay close. He already missed him.
"So, movie?" Jungkook was asking. Jimin was climbing off of his bed, pocketing his phone, but Taehyung couldn't move. These rumors, or whatever, had awoken the very real concern that soon their boyfriend wouldn't be a couple hundred miles away anymore—he'd be a couple thousand away.
The living room was unoccupied when the trio arrived downstairs; Jungkook wondered if maybe his parents had retired to their bedroom for the night to let them have the downstairs, which was nice if it was the case.
Jungkook showed Jimin his movie collection, set into one of the cabinets of the decades-old entertainment center that held the television—it looked wonderfully anachronistic with its dated knobs and tambour door, outfitted with a smart TV, his parents' stereo, and video game systems.
The three of them settled in to watch Howl's Moving Castle, Jungkook seated in the middle, so both of his boyfriends could hold his hands at the same time. Jimin was leaning right up against him, tucked against Jungkook's side, while Taehyung's arm was bridging the gap between their thighs, space between them. Jungkook didn't think much of it—he was just glad to be with them. Taehyung couldn't really say he was able to focus on the movie too much—he was a bit preoccupied with the thought that Jungkook would eventually move to the other side of the country. He knew it would only be a matter of time before one of them—probably Jimin—called him on his demeanor, so once the movie ended, he laid himself across both of their laps, claiming that despite the late hour he didn't want to go upstairs, because he and Jimin had to sleep in the guest room without Jungkook.
"I can come in there with you if you want," Jungkook said, his hand sneaking underneath Taehyung's shirt to glance over his stomach. "I'll just sleep on the floor. Not like I'm not used to it with you guys."
"Har, har," Taehyung fake laughed. He looked up at Jungkook from where his head was resting in Jimin's lap. His touch on Taehyung's stomach was gentle but just bordering on tickling him, not creeping too far high or low on his body; he wasn't going to take things further than he should. It was nice to think that Jungkook was—would always be—consistent, even with their future so unpredictable.
Shushing Jimin numerous times, Jungkook led them back upstairs. The house was quiet given the late hour, and Jungkook was certain that his parents were absolutely asleep by now, even if they hadn't been before.
The guest room, they discovered, had been fixed up by his mother—probably after they'd all gone to watch the movie. The bed was turned down on both sides, Jimin and Taehyung's bags laid out on either side of the foot of the bed, and there were clean towels stacked on the dresser.
"This is like the cutest B&B ever," Jimin commented, picking up the topmost towel and squeezing it. "Like—what are these towels made out of? The wings of cherubs mercilessly slaughtered for our comfort?"
"You're so bizarre," Taehyung said, lightening up a bit—he might have just been overtired, but sometimes these things happened. "Kook, you really wanna sleep in here with us?"
"Maybe we can take turns sleeping in the bed with him," Jimin said, gesturing to it. It was a full size mattress—big enough for two, definitely not for three. "I call dibs."
But Jungkook only laughed. "You two can fight over it if you want. I just wanna check some things on Twitch before bed, ok?"
"Ok," they both said, and Jungkook left them in the room closing the door behind him so they could change and get ready for bed.
He crossed the hall to his own bedroom, leaving his door slightly ajar. He sat back down at his computer, wanting to see if his subscribers number had increased, and maybe take a tally of any donations that he'd received during the stream and after. Part of him wanted to check out the chat logs and see if he could find these rumors Taehyung had mentioned, about him joining a team—but once he checked his email, it turned out that he really didn't have to. At all.
There were no less than five messages from addresses he didn't recognize, a couple with no subjects at all, but one that jumped out at him.
We met at BlizzCon - my team's offer is still open
Jungkook's hand was trembling a little as he moused over the email, clicking it. He knew exactly who it was—the man whose business card he'd forgotten about, just like he'd thought he would.
Hi, Jungkook, it read...
It's Nick Wood. We spoke at BlizzCon briefly on the last day of the con, I gave you my business card.
I hope you're doing well. I saw your stream a few weeks ago with Blizzard did really well too and I wanted to extend my offer to you again. We—and I'll be honest, a few other teams out here—are expressing interest in you signing with them. But I'm hoping that you'd be willing to give us your ear first.
Truthfully, we don't expect you to stay on our team—we're good, but I know and acknowledge that we're more of a starting point for many of our players. We would probably be the same for you. It would be a good opportunity to get your foot in the door.
If you're interested, feel free to shoot me a reply. We'd love to fly you out and show you around, maybe even go over a contract if you're feeling it.
Keep it up, and hope to hear from you soon,
He glanced over his shoulder at his bedroom door, but he could only hear his boyfriends murmuring quietly from across the hall. While he was looking, one of them left the guest room and headed into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Jungkook turned back to his computer, tapping out a reply and sending it before he could change his mind.
Would love to. Let me know when.
The worst had come true—for Taehyung, anyway. Jungkook hadn't mentioned anything for the rest of their trip, until he was dropping them off at the bus station.
"I just—I was nervous, and telling you guys would have just made me more nervous," Jungkook explained, hands in his lap; one was wrapped around the other and he was staring at the steering wheel.
"So you're going to California," Taehyung said. It wasn't a question—he wasn't even sure why he was upset, other than there was the very real chance that Jungkook was going to stay out there and succeed. He should be happy—but he'd grown used to having him close by, having him come to visit whenever they could. With Jungkook on the west coast, that would never happen again.
"Just to look around," Jungkook said. "A few teams contacted me, but only one offered to fly me out and they're even acknowledging that it'd just be like, my jumping off point. This could be my real shot to get onto a regional team if I do well enough and get noticed."
Jimin interjected, leaning up in between the front seats, one hand on each of his boyfriend's shoulders. "Well, I'm proud of you. You sure showed me, huh?" he asked, leaning in to kiss Jungkook. It was a joke, they all knew—but Jungkook really had shown him.
"Why do you seem pissed off about this?" Jungkook asked, not fully intending to ignore Jimin, but not particularly wanting to allow Taehyung to leave without hashing this out.
"Me?" Taehyung asked, his voice too high not to know he'd been caught. "I'm not."
"You are," Jungkook insisted. Jimin's hands slipped off of their shoulders as he sat back, withdrawing from the conversation. "Why?"
"Taehyung," Jungkook said, at the same time as Jimin, who kept going.
"We can both tell something's up with you," Jimin said. "You were fine this whole trip and now that Jungkook told us this, you're clearly in a mood."
"I'm not in a mood," Taehyung tried again, but with both Jungkook and Jimin giving him the stink eye, he couldn't quite keep up the charade. "Ok," he said. "Fine."
Jungkook squeezed his hands together a bit, shifting in his seat, waiting.
"I'm happy for you," Taehyung said. "I swear, really, but just—I'm just trying to get used to the idea of my boyfriend going to California when I live in New York, knowing that he's one of the best Overwatch players I've ever seen, knowing that he'll absolutely get signed and do amazing on whatever team gets him. I al-already miss you," he went on, keeping his voice as steady as he could. "I know you'll do good out there. And it's already so hard to watch you leave knowing you're just a bus ride away." He didn't want to risk looking over at Jungkook, until he felt Jimin's hand move back over his shoulder, rubbing it to comfort him. "We have to leave you now, knowing you might not come back."
Jungkook met Jimin's eyes in the rearview mirror, then he turned fully to look at Taehyung, even though the steering wheel kind of impeded his movements. "It'll be ok," Jungkook said. He wasn't sure—none of them could be—but Jungkook leaned in to kiss Taehyung, their noses brushing, his hands on Taehyung's cheeks. "I'm not leaving you," he said, his lips still on Taehyung's. "I'm just leaving here. It's ok."
Taehyung tilted his head down, his forehead resting against Jungkook's. Jimin nosed in too, kissing Taehyung's cheek, nuzzling him a little. The three of them were together, for now—surely not for the last time—but for the last time, for now.
Jungkook waited until the bus disappeared down the street before even starting the car again.
"So...how are you feeling?" Nick asked. He'd picked Jungkook up from the airport—it was early when he'd left home, and still early when he'd landed in California. They'd stopped for food—a deli that Nick swore was great, and Jungkook had to agree—and were now on their way to the house that the team lived in.
Jungkook thought it was a little early to be asking how he felt about the situation, but he didn't want to be entirely dismissive. Nick was nice; he'd purchased Jungkook's egg sandwich and banana milk, not even snickering at how excited Jungkook had gotten when he saw it in the refrigerator, tucked beside the orange juice.
"It's nice out here," Jungkook said. "Warm."
That, Nick did snicker at. "Yeah. It's still chilly out east, huh?"
"Yeah," Jungkook agreed. "My boyfriends live in New York and they said it's been looking like snow the last few days." It was partially a test, and it was one Nick passed.
Either he'd thought Jungkook had misspoken or he didn't notice or care, because he focused instead on the weather comment.
"Snow?" he repeated. "In April?"
"It's rare," Jungkook said. "But not unheard of." He tried not to think of the text that Jimin had sent him, about a comment that Taehyung had made that the weather was a reflection of his mood.
"Well, get used to this," Nick said, lifting one hand from the steering wheel to gesture at the blue skies, not a cloud in sight. "And here we are."
He lowered his hand to flick the blinker upward; the right turn signal turned on, and he pulled into a driveway that already had four other cars in it. Jungkook remained in the passenger seat, taking in the house—it was nice, on the outside at least, but with a lot of guys living in it together he could see the inside being very messy indeed.
His assumption had been wrong, though—as soon as they crossed the threshold, he was met with the strong scent of cinnamon, and quickly spotted an air freshener set onto a table near the entryway. It wasn't his favorite smell, but he figured it was better than the alternative.
"So, this is where you'll stay, if you sign," Nick said.
Jungkook nodded, looking around. No one else was present, but he could hear the sounds of Overwatch coming from a room, from down a hall that was around a corner.
"That's just some of the guys in the game room," Nick said, and Jungkook had to admit that his interest was piqued at the prospect of a game room. His parents barely let him play anything on the PlayStation in the living room on a good day, so he'd always been forced to settle for his bedroom. The idea of having an entire room where he could set up and play on a computer or even lying on a couch was enticing.
"This way," Nick went on; he was standing a few feet away, waving Jungkook along after him. Jungkook hadn't even noticed he'd walked over there. "I'll introduce you."
There were only two people in the game room, and Jungkook and Nick made four. It was pleasant to see, but not at all a surprise, that the other two gamers currently there were Korean as well—Hyunbin and Jaebeom. Hyunbin stood from where he was seated on a plush-looking couch playing with his phone; he pocketed it and crossed the room, playfully nudging Jaebeom as he did and earning himself a shout as Jaebeom's character—the healer, Ana—missed her shot.
Jungkook didn't think that having only two things in common from the get-go—Overwatch, and bring Korean—would lend itself to them becoming friends, but he was wrong. Nick had bowed out, excusing himself to take a phone call, and Jungkook had stood there awkwardly for a moment, until Jaebeom's match ended. He left the match before Play of the Game even showed, and then turned to Jungkook.
"Your Widow's sick," he said, and Jungkook let himself smile.
The three of them messed around for the better part of the morning and afternoon; they swapped out every couple matches, logging into their respective Blizzard accounts and showing off—they'd opted for Vs. AI, and Jungkook told the story of how he'd met Taehyung playing against the computer.
They seemed to be charmed by the story, even if their reaction to finding out that Jungkook and his boyfriend had another boyfriend—but any gushing he could have done about either of his men was overshadowed when Jaebeom decided that going forward, they had to go in Quick Play and let each other pick their hero.
Jungkook got stuck as Mercy and then Reinhardt before handing the mouse off to Hyunbin, eager to get his revenge and make him play a class he wasn't used to—even though he and Jaebeom just picked Bastion every match, laughing as Hyunbin cursed them out in Korean. As a Lucio main, he hated the limited mobility—and it wasn't long before he too stood up, allowing Jaebeom to take his turn.
Nick arrived back in the room, a few other players in tow, just as Jungkook and Hyunbin assigned Jaebeom, a Pharah main, to play as D.Va.
"Jungkook," Nick said, pulling him away from the computer. "I'd like you to meet everyone else."
Everyone else, he found, was five other guys and two girls—altogether known as Deadeyes. The name wasn't the worst thing Jungkook had ever heard, though it wasn't the best, either. It could have been a lot worse, he supposed, and after the introductions, Nick asked Jungkook to join him in meeting the owner of the team.
Unsure if things were moving too fast, Jungkook agreed—he lifted a hand to the team, then followed Nick out to the car.
"Nothing's set in stone yet," Nick told Jungkook, as they drove back after the meeting—which he had been utterly blindsided by, completely unprepared for. "But I've never seen them so enthusiastic about a potential player coming aboard. We have room for you in the house, and you seemed to be vibing with Hyunbin and Jaebeom." Bless him, Jungkook thought, for trying to use slang that didn't quite mesh with his business suit persona. He couldn't quite manage the Korean names, either, but he was better than most other Americans, at least.
"They're cool," Jungkook said. As uneasy as the meeting had made him, they had offered him a position on the team right away, a salary, and a decent percentage of any and all winnings the team got. They'd also provide him lodging in the team's house, though he wasn't required to live there, and would sponsor him if he competed in local tournaments on his own for prizes. It was a sweet deal, and Jungkook couldn't see how he could pass it up, despite how naive that made him feel.
"So, now that all the business is out of the way," Nick said, pulling Jungkook back to the present, "I'll just drop you back off at the house. You can spend the next couple days with the team and see how you feel."
Jungkook paused. "My ticket was only one way."
Nick looked over, then chuckled. "Well—of course, we're going to buy you a ticket back home. If you want to go, that is. We're hopeful that you might choose to stay."
Licking his lip, Jungkook knew in his gut what he wanted—he could feel it in ever fiber of his being that he wanted to sign to this team, he wanted to make the move, he wanted to live his fucking dream—this was everything he had worked for, and more, and he could already see himself being traded or sold to another team like the Valiant or Gladiators, or even one that wasn't in LA year-round, like the Fusion or Uprising. Based in Philadelphia and Boston respectively, either of those would certainly make Taehyung happy.
Thoughts of his boyfriend only soured his mood, so Jungkook pushed him away—this was his future, and he truly believed that he, Taehyung, and Jimin could make it work whether they lived close or far. He wouldn't be on Deadeyes forever, after all.
"I'll have to think about it," Jungkook said. He'd been so lost in thought that he hadn't realized that Nick had pulled into the house's driveway, and was looking over at him in interest.
"Just enjoy the rest of your time here," Nick said. "If you want a ticket home, text me any time and we'll get everything organized."
Jungkook thanked him, hopping out of the car and heading into the house as Nick pulled away. Hyunbin met him at the door, offering him a slice of pizza—which Jungkook took, prompting him to ask if there was a gym nearby—and while they ate, the rest of the team interrogated Jungkook on his mains and if he played any other games. They were getting along well—and Jungkook felt very at home and welcome, moreso than he even felt in his own house sometimes.
The only other time he could remember feeling so accepted was when he was with Taehyung—and again, the thought of his boyfriend made his stomach drop.
Popping the last bite of crust in his mouth, he wiped his hands on his jeans, standing up and excusing himself.
He made his way to the bathroom, locking the door behind him and making sure the lid was down before he sat on the toilet—there was a sticker on the lid that read "THIS WAY TO THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC" which made complete sense in a house full of nerds like him—and then he was tapping on his phone, ready to Facetime Taehyung.
Jimin picked up, and Jungkook actually had to check and make sure that he'd called the right person—but he had.
"Hey!" Jimin half-shouted, his nose and mouth the only thing on the screen as he moved the phone too close to his face. Jungkook could see his crooked tooth clearly, and it made his chest ache for them both.
"Hey," Jungkook said. His mind knew what his heart had already decided, and even though it was crazy, he had to tell them. Had to. "Where's Tae?"
"Cooking," Jimin said. "He had a photoshoot before so we're eating dinner late." The camera flipped, and Jungkook saw Taehyung at the stove, his back to the phone, as he worked something in a pan with a spatula. "TaeTae, look who it is."
Taehyung turned to look over his shoulder, eyes narrowing. "Is that my phone?" he asked, then zeroed in on the screen. "Kook?"
He glanced at the stove, then waved Jimin closer; he padded over to Taehyung, who grabbed the phone from him and shoved the spatula into his hand.
"Don't let them burn," Taehyung said, off-camera, then angled the phone properly at his face. "Hey. Hi." He looked a bit pink in the cheeks, but that could have been from the heat of the stove.
"Hey," Jungkook greeted him, slumping a little. "It's so good to see you."
"You too," Taehyung said; Jungkook watched as he climbed over the back of the couch, sitting on it before turning to stretch his legs out. "How's California?"
"Warm," Jungkook said. "Even now. It's late and still warm."
"The horror," Taehyung quipped, but he let himself smile before long. "How's the team?"
"They're really nice, actually. Most of them are Korean—"
"—and there's even two girls."
Taehyung hummed his appreciation. "How forward-thinking."
Jungkook chuckled, but there wasn't any amusement in it. He didn't want to say what he needed to. "They made me an offer."
"I figured they would," Taehyung said, then turned to look back at Jimin. "Chim, add the turkey just to heat it up and then plate it if the veggies are tender."
"Stir fry?" Jungkook asked, his lips curling into a smile.
"He loves the recipe," Taehyung said, looking back into the camera, his smile matching Jungkook's. “And we had some leftover turkey from the other night.”
"Bone app the teeth."
"Sorry, I couldn't hear you over that stale meme, what did you say?"
"So, they made me an offer," Jungkook repeated—because he was already feeling the pull to return home and forget about Deadeyes, to just focus on his relationship and get a real job, maybe put his degree to good use.
"A good one, I guess, otherwise you wouldn't tell me about it." Taehyung was trying his hardest not to sound bitter, and it wasn't easy.
"It's a really good one," Jungkook admitted. "Plus I—if I do well on Deadeyes, I could get on an even better team." He paused. "Maybe like Uprising or Fusion."
Taehyung met Jungkook's eyes; they both ignored the clanking of Jimin trying not to make a mess while dumping the contents of the pan onto the large plate that they'd both eat off of, but the clatter told them that he'd dropped the spatula.
"But you want to be in LA," Taehyung said. Jungkook could read the conflict on his face.
"Y-Yeah," Jungkook stammered, not quite expecting Taehyung to say that, considering how he hadn't wanted Jungkook to go in the first place. "Yeah, but Boston and Philly are pretty close to New York. Comparatively."
Taehyung looked away for a second; Jimin was setting the table behind him, Jungkook could see it in the space that Taehyung's head wasn't occupying onscreen, and when he finally turned back to look, it wasn't clear whether his eyes were actually wet or if the lighting just made them seem that way. "You have to do what you want, Kook. It's—I'm not going to be the person who takes your dream away from you, you know? We both want you to be happy, and if it's being on a team out in LA, then do it. Please."
"But—" Jungkook started. Taehyung cut him off.
"We'll make it work," Taehyung said, one corner of his mouth lilting upward. "It's worked this long. I don't see why it wouldn't continue on."
"Why what wouldn't?" came Jimin's voice, his face appearing suddenly beside Taehyung's. He was holding a piece of meat with chopsticks, and even as he rested his chin on Taehyung's shoulder, he popped it into his mouth and chewed, lips puckered into a kiss he blew to Jungkook.
"I think Jungkook wants to sign with that team out in California," Taehyung said. He was giving Jungkook an out from having to say it himself. "Right, Kookie?"
Jungkook held Taehyung's gaze, even as Jimin leaned closer to the phone, partially obscuring Taehyung's face.
"I have to talk to my parents," Jungkook said. "But...yeah, I think so. At least for right now, to just get my foot in the door."
"That's amazing," Jimin said, puckering his lips to blow even more kisses at the camera. Jungkook laughed—he felt sad, truthfully, but the other, larger part of him felt thrilled. He would do everything to make sure that his relationship didn't suffer, because while gaming professionally might have been his end goal, he couldn't forget that Taehyung and Jimin had helped him get there.
"So are you," Jungkook replied, and Jimin beamed. "And Tae." Jungkook's heart swelled when Taehyung's stoic expression cracked—he smiled instead, and Jungkook knew that things would never not be all right with them.
Telling Taehyung had actually been the easy part—it was convincing his parents that was hard. It was kind of funny, in a way, because they had done nothing but make his life difficult when he talked about his dreams of playing Overwatch professionally, and then when he finally had the opportunity to do it—to have a paying job, to prove to them it was a legitimate career—they doubled down on their disapproval.
Jungkook hated having to do it to him, but Taehyung became his rock in the days that followed. He was supportive, even though Jungkook knew how much it upset Taehyung to console him, to tell him that his parents would come around and end up supporting him too.
It was a rocky couple of days—Jungkook came close to telling Nick that he wanted a ticket home countless times, the closest of which being when he actually typed a message out to him. But it was like Taehyung and Jimin, who he really suspected knew him better than he knew himself sometimes, would always manage to text him right before he sent it, telling him they were proud of him, or that they knew he would be amazing or, as Jimin liked to say because the only thing he understood about Overwatch was destroying the other team: "Kill 'em all."
Jungkook had been sharing a room with Hyunbin. It was temporary, he'd been told—they did have space for him, but on the off chance that he decided not to stay, Nick didn't want him to have to pack up all his shit again. He was living out of a suitcase for the time being, using the washer and dryer in the basement of the house, and that was fine.
Mostly, he had the room to himself. Hyunbin clung to Jaebeom's side more often than not, so whenever Jaebeom was home, Hyunbin was with him, and that suited Jungkook quite nicely. He enjoyed spending time alone, because it afforded him the privacy to speak to his boyfriends on Facetime—and also to talk to his parents on the phone.
He hadn't spoken to either of them in a day or two—they'd made it clear that they wanted him to come home soon. Jungkook had told them in no uncertain terms that he wanted to stay put in Los Angeles, to try his hand at the one thing he'd wanted for so long. He had thought that a salary, that being paid would make the difference, but he supposed their disdain for his chosen career path ran deeper than he'd thought.
It was late—nearly midnight in California, which meant it was just about 3AM at home—when his phone rang.
Jungkook absolutely expected Taehyung—or Jimin, since he was a night owl—but it was actually his mother's number calling.
Hurriedly, he answered the phone, concerned that something was wrong.
"Eomma?" he asked, his voice betraying how nervous her late-hour call made him. "What's wrong?"
A sigh met his ears, and he plunged even deeper into worry. And then she spoke. "I couldn't sleep."
"What's wrong?" Jungkook asked. He shifted, the air mattress that he'd been given dipping a bit too far as he jostled it with his movements, but he kept himself righted. "Is everyth—"
"I can't stop thinking about you," she said, and Jungkook froze. "All your father and I want for you is to be—happy. You're a good boy, Jungkook-ah—you went to college, you have your degree—but if this is what you want to do right now, then we should not stop you."
"Eomma," Jungkook half-whispered. He tucked each foot below the opposite knee, bending himself nearly in half where he sat.
"Don't let us make your choices for you," she went on, and Jungkook sat stock still, not believing that he was hearing this. "We might not approve, but you can decide for yourself."
"Is—Does Appa agree?" Jungkook was almost afraid to ask.
His mother didn't reply for a moment. "He will agree, because I will tell him how important it is to you. It's his job to understand. He's your father."
Jungkook nodded, knowing she couldn't see him. He wished she knew how to use Facetime, but then thought—seeing her would probably make this harder.
"We can mail you some things, would that help? Clothes, and your computer?"
He was floored—she was making this so easy, he could have cried. This is all he'd wanted from the very beginning. "That would be great."
"Good," she said. "Good. Get some sleep, aegi."
"You too," Jungkook said, smiling when she laughed.
"Yes. I will," she replied. "Just let me know where to send your things."
"Thanks, Eomma," Jungkook said, loudly, almost over her. "Thank...thank you."
"We love you, Jungkook-ah."
Her voice was soft and warm.
They’d told him not to, but Jungkook showed up to the airport with a huge sign. In lieu of a last name, like drivers usually had when waiting to pick up their charges, it showed only two images: The snowflake that Taehyung used as his player icon in Overwatch, and D.Va’s customary pink and blue bunny face, which Jimin hadn’t had the opportunity to choose but totally would have if he ever made his own account.
“Oh my god, Tae, he did it,” Jimin moaned as they saw Jungkook, holding the huge posterboard up in front of himself, only his face peeking over it. People were giving him looks and a wide berth as they passed him, but Taehyung and Jimin stopped right in front of him.
“Why this?” Taehyung asked, but he was smiling as he stepped closer, wheeling his suitcase behind himself. Jimin followed, his bag slung over his shoulder, and Jungkook finally lowered the sign, holding two opposite edges in one hand as he spread his arms. Both of his boyfriends slipped in between them side by side, hugging him as he curled his arms around them and accidentally whapping Jimin on the back of the head with the oak tag poster.
“How was your flight?” Jungkook asked, not letting either of them go—not that they were trying to escape or anything.
“Not bad,” Jimin answered, standing on his tiptoes and pushing himself further into Jungkook, his face burrowing into his neck. Taehyung didn’t quite do the same—he was taller than Jimin—but he did kiss his cheek and let his nose rest against Jungkook’s temple for a moment.
“Glad we’re finally here,” Taehyung said, pulling back after all. “Missed you.” His second statement was softer, like it was silly or embarrassing to say, like anyone could hear him beside Jungkook and Jimin, like they felt any differently themselves.
“Missed you too,” Jungkook replied, looking between them. “And Jimin.”
The shortest of the three of them beamed up at Jungkook, his eyes mostly shutting into little slits given the width of his grin.
“Are you guys hungry?” Jungkook went on, transferring the poster to his left hand, digging his right hand into his pocket for his car keys.
“No,” Taehyung said, at the same time that Jimin said, “Yes.” The three of them looked between each other for a long moment.
“No,” Taehyung tried again, but Jimin insisted “Yes” a second time.
“Well, do you want to head back to the house? Carolyn was going to make—”
“Carolyn, the Zarya main, right?” Taehyung interjected, earning himself a nod from Jungkook as he tried to go on, but he was interrupted immediately after by Jimin.
“Not in the mood for that,” he said, ignoring Jungkook’s protestation of “But I didn’t even say what she was making.” Jimin continued, “How about we get checked into the hotel and order some room service?”
“Jimin,” Taehyung said, but Jungkook was smirking—of course Jimin wanted to get him alone. After the time they spent at his parents’ house, where they were all constantly in arms’ reach of each other but couldn’t actually touch, he was desperate for some contact with Jungkook.
“It’s fine,” Jungkook said. “I fully intend to order room service, so.”
Jimin clicked his tongue, but shrugged one shoulder, tipping his head to the side as he did. "Deal."
Jungkook leaned in, kissing Jimin on the lips, then jingled his keys. "Let's go."
The hotel wasn’t terribly far from the airport, but they piled into the car that Jungkook had borrowed from Carolyn, the Zarya main, and headed out with their bags stashed in the trunk.
They did order room service, even though Jimin spent the entire time waiting for it riling them up. Each of them was not quite in the mood to eat when it arrived, but Taehyung answered the door anyway, trying in vain to tug his shirt down to hide the slight bulge at his front.
Their food was eaten quickly and in silence; Jimin had chosen not to order anything, which meant that when Jungkook and Taehyung sat side by side on the bed to eat off their respective trays, Jimin nosed his way in between them to pick off of their plates.
Taehyung had chosen a steak while Jungkook opted for the healthiest thing he cared to look for (grilled fillet with a salad). Jimin was in the process of stealing all of the cucumbers from Jungkook's salad, while scoping out the steak Taehyung was slicing through for the best bites.
"You could have ordered your own food, you know," Jungkook said, waiting with his fork poised over his salad bowl while Jimin plucked out the cubed veggies that he wanted.
"He could have," Taehyung answered instead of Jimin, who was chewing happily on the cucumber. "But this is how Jimin operates. He's my favorite mooch." Jimin grinned, pecking Taehyung on the lips before shuffling himself back on the bed, away from them.
"Carolyn was making pasta," Jungkook said. "She makes, like, pounds of it at once. He could have had an entire pot to himself." He lifted a forkful of salad to his lips; glancing down into the bowl and spotting a cucumber; he speared it on the fork and held it over his shoulder without looking. A brief pause—and then Jimin ate it. Taehyung chuckled.
"Too many carbs," Taehyung commented, scooping up a bite of mashed potatoes for himself.
"Protein too," Jimin said from behind them. They could feel him rustling around back there, but neither turned to look. "Are you guys almost finished?"
"He would know there's protein in pasta," Taehyung quipped, rolling his eyes and ignoring Jimin's question.
"We're almost done," Jungkook said. He was—his fish was long gone, and he was eating the last vestiges of the salad. Taehyung's steak was dwindling, and he'd finished his potatoes with some help from Jimin.
"Good," Jimin said, and his voice dipped in a way that wasn't entirely normal.
Glancing at each other, Jungkook and Taehyung met each other's eyes before turning more fully around, seeing Jimin at the same moment—he was bare save for his underwear, the tight black fabric clinging to his thick thighs, his hand palming at himself through his underwear.
"Shit," Taehyung muttered, but Jungkook didn't waste time on staring. He turned back around, rolled off of the bed and deposited his now-empty tray on the ground before straightening up and pulling his shirt off. Taehyung was fumbling to do the same, trying to undress himself at the same time, his arm caught in his shirt as he dropped his tray the last few inches to the floor. It crashed against the carpet, his glass of water tipping over and spilling, but he couldn't care—
Jungkook had crawled on top of Jimin, his jeans unbuttoned and torso already bare, kissing his neck as Jimin kept his hand working against himself between them. The muscles in Jungkook's back flexed as he moved over Jimin, lowering his lips down his chest. The bed dipped as Taehyung climbed on beside them, kneeling as he removed his shirt the rest of the way.
The back of Jimin's hand brushed against the front of Jungkook's hips with each movement, back and forth, not giving him enough friction whatsoever but giving him just the right amount to pique his interest. His lips grazed Jimin's chest, his soft stomach—Taehyung had taken Jungkook's place, laying half on his side as he moved in closer to them, slipping his arm between his boyfriends' fronts as he let his hand skim over Jimin's chest. He kissed his neck, sucking a bruise into the crook between his throat and shoulder, and Jimin was fucking reveling in it.
"We missed you so much, Kookie," Jimin said, his voice high and bright, speaking for Taehyung as well since his mouth was otherwise occupied.
"Missed you more," Jungkook said, his mouth against Jimin's hip now. Jimin's hand had slipped into his underwear, the waistband cutting into his wrist as he stroked himself as best he could in the confines of the cotton, but Jungkook wasn't interested in letting him continue jerking himself off.
"Missed you more than anything," Jungkook repeated, propping himself up on his knees above Jimin, leaning over to cup Taehyung's face and turn him away from Jimin. He balanced on his other hand, swiping his thumb over Taehyung's lower lip before leaning in to kiss him, lingering against his lips. Jimin cooed from below him, but Jungkook pulled away before he could lose himself in kissing Taehyung too much—he straightened up, using both hands to tug Jimin's underwear down.
His hand was exposed then, fingers curled around his stiff dick, wetness already beading at the tip. Jungkook, heaven help him, actually licked his lips at the sight of it, and then the next thing he knew, he was scooching himself down the bed to lie beside Jimin, on the opposite side of him from Taehyung, though he was settled much lower.
Positioned evenly with Jimin's cock, Jungkook lifted himself up and opened his mouth, sinking down on the length as he held it steady, his lips brushing against Jimin's fingers. He sucked and pulled off, tongue working against the slit before moving back onto him. Jimin let go of himself, lifting his hand to card through Jungkook's hair, humming softly already.
"Tae," Jimin half-whined—not a specific request but a request nonetheless, wanting both of his boyfriend's mouths on him somewhere, anywhere. "Tae, would you—?"
"Mm," Taehyung hummed in agreement; he pushed himself up to sit sideways next to Jimin, leaning on one hand, his arm unbending. He surveyed Jimin's body, eyes roving over him like he was a piece of meat—Jimin whimpered a little under his gaze, not sure if he wanted to look at Taehyung looking at him, or at Jungkook bobbing up and down on his cock—when finally, Taehyung made his move.
He slid down like Jungkook had, lower half almost dangling off the bed as he removed Jimin’s underwear completely. Jungkook would have laughed, but with a mouth full of cock it just wasn't feasible—instead, he doubled down on pleasuring Jimin, shifting his hips a bit where he laid, liking the vague pressure against his own length while he tasted Jimin's precome on his tongue.
Using his elbows, Taehyung pulled himself back up the bed, but this time, he moved in between Jimin's legs; one of them would be trapped between the two of them, but the other—he lifted it up and out of his way, taking care not to bend it in an unnatural way, and in doing so exposed Jimin's asshole.
Jungkook could just make out what Taehyung was doing; from the angle he was at, he couldn't watch—which was sad as fuck, since he liked it almost as much as participating—but he could see Jimin's face, and that was almost as good.
Jimin's eyes were wide, until Taehyung leaned in, tonguing at his hole, and then they fluttered closed, mouth opening in a small sigh. Jungkook couldn't hear much over the wet noises from his own mouth, but when he stopped moving, pulling off just enough to mouth at the head, he could hear Jimin's breathing growing slightly heavier, and the wet smack of Taehyung's lips each time he moved away from Jimin's asshole.
"Remind me to m-move us out here," Jimin said absently, like he wasn't aware of the words coming out of his mouth. "Don't ever wanna not have th—is." His voice broke as Taehyung's tongue curled into him, licking him from the inside, and Jungkook would have smiled if he could. He sank back down onto Jimin, resisting the urge to close his eyes as he sucked him—he wanted to watch as Jimin came undone from having two mouths on him.
Taehyung's fingers sunk into Jimin's thigh, squeezing it a bit as he held it up; his arm was going to get tired before long, but he hoped that with the dual stimulation of his asshole and his cock, he could come before that happened. With his free hand, he reached up to trace his fingertips over Jungkook's back, dragging them down to toy with the loose waistband of his jeans. Jungkook hummed in response, pulling a moan from Jimin's lips, and in turn he lifted his hips, fucking his cock further into Jungkook's mout. He was almost feeding it to him—Taehyung used the opportunity to lean in further, licking Jimin's hole with short, quick passes.
"Fuck, Tae," Jimin half-shouted, unable to stifle himself. If they had any neighbors, they'd be all too aware of what was happening in this particular hotel room, but none of the three of them could be bothered to care. Jungkook felt a flood of precome in his mouth as Jimin shifted himself, trying to hold his legs farther apart. He was trembling—Jungkook could see how tense he was, in his neck and stomach, his chest heaving. He opened his mouth again, probably to warn Jungkook, not that he needed it—
Taehyung pulled his mouth away from Jimin's hole just enough to give himself room—he kissed Jimin's thigh, nipping at it a little, and then curled two fingers into his hole, parting them just to hear Jimin—
Squeal, his ass clenching around Taehyung's fingers, gasping for breath; Jungkook kept his eyes locked onto his face as he ground his still-clothed hips down against the bed, getting off on the sight of it.
"Tae—Taehyung," Jimin whimpered, shuddering. "Jungkook—!" His entire body stilled for a moment, poised on the precipice—and then he broke apart, coming in Jungkook's mouth with a loud, drawn-out sigh.
Jungkook's eyes fluttered shut, finally, swallowing around Jimin's cock, taking everything he gave until he pulled off, cock falling from his mouth, leaving a dribble of semen leaking out over his lower lip.
"Mm," Taehyung hummed again, and Jungkook looked—before he knew what was happening, Taehyung was kissing him, licking his lip clean; they both tasted Jimin on each other's tongues, while Jimin lay prone on the bed, the leg Taehyung was holding bent at the knee. He'd changed the position, his thigh pressed against his chest as Taehyung's fingers still rested in his ass, scissoring him open slowly, gradually; he was barely parting his fingers, but Jimin was smiling to himself, a barely-there expression that spoke of how sated he was—for the time being, anyway.
"Love you guys," Jimin mumbled, blissed out. Taehyung released his leg, and it flopped to the bed as Jimin curled onto his side; though he looked back at them over his shoulder. "I'll just wait here."
"For what?" Jungkook asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His jeans were hanging low on his hips, underwear peeking out.
"You two," Jimin said, stretching his legs out. He lowered one hand to touch his cock, but just as quickly retracted it, still too sensitive for more.
Jungkook glanced at Taehyung, who had moved to mirror him, both of them standing on their knees, all but dismissed by Jimin, who apparently wanted to wait out his refractory period by relaxing.
"So," Taehyung said, eyeing Jungkook; his gaze settling around Jungkook's bellybutton.
"Yeah?" Jungkook replied, feeling heat coiling in his gut; his cock was half-hard, and he knew once he got out of his jeans he wouldn't be able to stand it not being touched, either by himself or one of his boyfriends.
"Can I show you how much I missed you?" he asked, and Jungkook didn't, for a moment, realize what he was asking—he watched Taehyung's hands move to his front, undoing his own jeans and pushing them down and off along with his underwear—and then it clicked.
"He missed you so much, Kookie," Jimin said, egging Taehyung on; Jungkook moved himself backwards, away, glancing behind him only so he could find the chair set up near the window to throw himself into.
"Can I show you?" Taehyung asked again, and Jungkook was nodding. He lifted his hips up, shoving his jeans down with first one hand and then the other, and instead of removing his underwear, he just pushed the waistband down, tugging his cock out. The elastic snapped against the underside of his cock; he tugged his balls out too, and then his prick was held upright by the waistband.
"Yeah," Jungkook replied, even though Taehyung was already jerking himself off. He'd moved to sit on the edge of the bed, one hand on Jimin's hip, rubbing over his side; the other was between his own legs, thumb hooked around his cock as his fingers skimmed over the head, alternating back and forth, upper lip twitching at the sensation.
Jungkook sighed quietly, eyes moving over both of his boyfriends on the bed before him. Taehyung's bare legs were spread wide; he moved his hand from Jimin's hip to between his legs, squeezing and massaging his thigh with the heel of his hand as he stroked his cock. Jungkook let his eyes dip over to Jimin every now and then, his thick thighs pressed tight together as he laid with his back to them. His ass was always nice to look at and it held Jungkook's interest—but not for long.
A drawn-out moan from Taehyung pulled his eyes back toward him; he was pressing against his thigh with his hand, hand moving over himself quickly, only stopping to spit into his palm to ease some of the heat and friction from skin moving over skin.
"Tae," Jungkook said, sliding closer to the edge of the chair, his legs impeded slightly by his jeans, still around his ankles. He kicked them off, managing to keep one hand on his dick the whole while. His back bowed as he slumped down, wanting to make himself comfortable while watching Taehyung.
Every now and then, his eyes would flick over to Jimin, just to see if he had recovered yet, but thus far he seemed to want to stay still and relax himself before they continued on with him. None of them minded—he'd join again when he felt like it.
"Like watching me," Taehyung replied, and it wasn't a question either—he was watching Jungkook with half-lidded eyes, clearly wanting to be in control of the situation, but at the same time, also desperate to lose himself in it.
"Love it," Jungkook said, too quickly not to sound like he wanted to speed things up. He was jerking himself off to Taehyung, taking in every bit of him as he stroked his cock. "Feels good?"
"Yeah," Taehyung said, whiny, losing any hope he had of keeping his composure. Jungkook was the one who was supposed to be enthralled—and yet there was Taehyung, his hand slick with precome, breath stuttering in his lungs as Jungkook watched him.
"He likes you watching him," Jimin said; he'd shifted himself onto his back, looking between them with only a smirk gracing his features. "That's how much he wanted to have you around, it’s why he’d always Skype you—he got a new fucking kink 'cause of you—"
"I did n-not," Taehyung argued, but Jungkook met his gaze for a moment before dipping his eyes back down, blatantly looking at his hand wrapped around his cock, and Taehyung positively whined, his voice high. "He's just—"
"I like watching you just as much," Jungkook said, spreading his legs further and moving his hand quicker. He could already feel heat coiling in his groin, even though he wasn't that close yet—he wasn't sure if he wanted Taehyung to come first or not, but he'd get his either way, so it wasn't a concern after all. "Do you know how—" he interrupted himself with a gasp, his thumb brushing over the leaking slit "—how good you look?"
"I," Taehyung tried to say. Jimin's legs were bent at the knee, and he was nudging Taehyung with one of them, giving him some contact even though it wasn't where he wanted it most. "I—Better than on Skype?"
Jungkook snickered, and for a second uncertainty flashed over Taehyung's face, but just as quickly it vanished, because Jungkook had lowered his free hand between his legs, cupping his balls as he teased the head of his cock. "Nothing is better than the real thing," Jungkook replied, his voice surprisingly steady—he was actually proud of himself for keeping it together.
Taehyung was leaning against Jimin's leg now, using him to keep himself upright; he was staring at Jungkook's face, wanting to know he was being seen rather than see anything himself, and every time Jungkook's eyes flicked one way or the other, he adjusted his grip on his cock, changing his rhythm or where he was touching.
Heat pooled in his groin; he could feel the slow burn of orgasm creeping up on him, and Taehyung cleared his throat in a sad attempt to meet Jungkook's eyes just one time before he came.
His wish was granted—Jungkook looked up at him, eyes sweeping over his face; a small smirk appeared before he let his line of sight drop down again, watching as Taehyung's hand sped up, smearing his own precome over his length, his movements erratic. His hips twitched forward—Jimin had moved too, but Jungkook didn't want to risk looking away, want to risk not seeing it—he didn't even recall doing it but his grip had tightened around himself, thick dribbles of precome oozing out of his slit, changing from clear to opaque—to pearly—
"Jungkook," Taehyung half-whispered, voice broken, and that was it—Jungkook came, almost surprising himself with the intensity of it—Taehyung was worrying his lower lip between his teeth, his hand still splayed out on his thigh, pressing down against it in vain to keep his composure.
Jimin remained mysteriously silent, but Jungkook's cock was practically spasming in his hand, thick ropes of white landing on his stomach, staining his underwear and probably—unfortunately—the chair, but he couldn't be bothered to check that just yet.
Taehyung was whimpering quietly, squirming where he sat. Jungkook knew what he was waiting for—how could he not?—so he reluctantly opened his eyes, already a little tired, and stared at Taehyung. His hand had slowed—but as Jungkook looked at him, it sped up again, and then he was getting louder, his voice breathier; with a shudder, he came, a puddle of spunk ending up on the floor between his feet as he finally let go.
“Shit,” Jimin drawled, laughing a little as he finished speaking. Jungkook spared him a glance—and then did a double take, because he hadn’t realized that Jimin had most definitely gotten himself involved again, without either of them paying him any mind.
His knee was still pressed against Taehyung’s back—he was pouting a little, Jungkook could see out of the corner of his eye, but the only acknowledgement that Jungkook gave him was a little nod of the head, jerking his chin toward Jimin.
Taehyung turned to look, his hand still wrapped around his cock, semen staining his fingers—and took a sharp inhale of breath.
Jimin was still on his back, still letting one let rest against Taehyung—but his hands were down between his legs. His right hand was curled around his thigh, holding it up and back against his chest while his left hand was invisible to them, but given the way his wrist was moving, the way his teeth were sinking into his lower lip to keep himself quiet, they knew exactly what he was doing.
He was fingering himself further open—or at least, attempting to, given he had no lube that they could see, though neither of them would have put it past Jimin to have it hidden away somewhere accessible.
“Fuck,” Taehyung said, shifting himself from Jimin; his left leg fell to the side, then, and they were treated to the sight of two of his fingers in his asshole, not moving them much, but still just enough.
“Did you guys pack—” was all Jungkook managed before Taehyung was nodding and pointing, sighing a little at the way his thighs were still trembling. As Jungkook stood up from the chair, finally shedding his underwear and leaving them in a pile with his jeans, he saw that Taehyung looked very much like he had no idea what he wanted to do. He sat still, then leaned forward just a little to press a kiss to the front of Jimin’s knee, and it was only once Jungkook joined them that he moved again, settling onto his knees and leaning his arm against Jungkook’s to stay steady.
He proffered the little bottle of lube that he'd retrieved to Taehyung, who took it and opened it right away, squeezing some onto his fingers before handing it back to Jungkook. Taking it, he closed the cap with his thumb and moved to put it aside, but Jimin didn't let him.
"No," he said—gasped out, really. "Don't, just—both of you?" he asked, letting his fingers slip out of himself as Taehyung's replaced them, the slide much easier. "Both of you, please."
Taehyung looked at Jungkook, giving a short nod of the head, so he reopened the bottle and squirted some onto his fingers as well, slicking them up. Jimin spread his legs as far as he could, wrapping both arms around his right thigh now to ensure that his leg stayed up and out of their way.
Taehyung had two fingers in, stretching him gradually. Jimin had his eyes closed, head rolled back, pressing hard against the pillow below him; his back arched as Taehyung curled his fingers just a bit inside of him, teasing.
"Kookie," Jimin moaned, head lolling back and forth. "Come on, pl-please."
Jungkook had no idea if Jimin was getting off on being fingered like this, with both of them there, or if it was the prospect of having both of them touch him at once, but he wasn't about to keep him waiting. He shuffled a bit closer on his knees, crowding in around Taehyung; placing his clean hand on Jimin's thigh, pushing against it a bit to raise his ass up off the bed, he curled one finger in beside Taehyung's.
Jimin hummed softly, clearly loving the feeling of the stretch—but Jungkook was going to wait for him to ask for more before adding a fourth finger inside of him.
They worked in tandem for a moment, Taehyung sliding his fingers out while Jungkook pushed in and then vice versa, watching as Jimin's chest quivered with each ragged breath he took. The position he was in couldn't be comfortable, but he didn't complain once, only flexing his hips up occasionally to try and get their fingers in deeper.
For the first few times, neither of them reacted, but it wasn't long after that Jimin became more vocal, whiny—he reached down with one hand, covering Jungkook's fingers with his own and loosed a filthy groan. He tugged at his wrist, eyes half-lidded. "More, Kook," he said, breathy and high. "Give me anoth—"
Jungkook didn't even let him finish—he licked his lip, then waited for Taehyung to push his fingers back in so Jungkook pulled them out. He slid not one but two back inside, the tightness around his fingers so, so much—and then Jimin spoke again, not able to stop himself.
"I want you both," he mumbled, squeezing down on their fingers; they'd both stilled inside of him, as deep as they could go with just their hands, neither pulling out so his hole gaped around them. "Inside me, please, both of you—"
"Jimin," Taehyung said, his voice not stern but edging on it, like Jimin might not be sure what he was asking for.
"Please," Jimin said again, almost begging now. "I know I can take it, I—please, I missed him so much, I know you did too. Tae, I can—we can—"
"Ok," Jungkook said, appeasing Jimin, who clenched down on them again. "We'll just—work up to it."
Jimin nodded, his hair brushing against the pillow, and this time when Jungkook and Taehyung started moving again, it was together as best they could. They fucked him with two fingers each, pulling out and sliding in at the same time. Jimin's hand twitched on top of Jungkook's—and then before they could tell him otherwise, he had reached down, his forearm nudging his hard prick, wrist nestled against his balls, and had tried to crook one of his own fingers in alongside theirs.
"Wait," Jungkook said, mostly worried that he might hurt himself, but Taehyung reached over with his free hand to rub at Jimin's cock, his palm flat as he pressed it against Jimin's soft stomach.
"Just pour some more lube into him," Taehyung said, his voice quiet as Jimin looked up at them both, utter adoration written on his features. Jungkook did as he was asked; he reached to the side, picking up the lube bottle, and squeezed a dollop out onto where their fingers were disappearing inside of Jimin's asshole.
He hissed a little at the coldness, but still curled one finger inside of himself between the other four, filling himself up even further.
"When should we switch?" Jungkook whispered; part of him wondered vaguely if they'd ever done this before, with someone who wasn't him, so they could guide him through it.
"Um," Taehyung said, which answered his question—or so he thought. "Well, usually we get him on me first, and then sometimes he'll use a toy from behind." Jungkook felt himself pale a little at the thought of watching them do exactly that. "But he can sit on you first if you want."
"Ok," Jungkook agreed with absolutely zero hesitation. He looked at Jimin, who pressed his lips into a thin line, enjoying the feeling of having his two boyfriends fuck his ass with their fingers alongside one of his own—but the moment passed quickly, and he retracted his hand first, followed by Jungkook, and then Taehyung. His cock spewed precome out onto his stomach, a puddle forming, and Jungkook knew they'd have to be quick or he'd come too soon and be too sensitive for anything more.
"Ok, yes," he said again.
Jimin and Taehyung both waited for Jungkook to move before they did; Jungkook pushed himself to sit beside where Jimin was laying, the bed moving unsteadily as he did, and then Jimin was sitting up and fucking straddling him, not even waiting for the go ahead.
He kissed Jungkook without warning, licking into his mouth as their thighs pressed together, and he slipped one hand down below Jungkook's ass, pulling him to the best of his ability down the bed a bit further. It would be easier for Taehyung in the end if Jungkook was reclined just a little, with Jimin on top of him.
Jungkook moved with Jimin, wrapping his arms around him to hold him close as they kissed, but Jimin resisted the hold. Instead, he propped himself up above Jungkook, hips hovering over him, and then Jungkook felt Taehyung's hand take hold of him, slicking him up with lube.
"Shit," he hissed, sensitive. He hadn't just come, but he could still feel the weight of his orgasm hanging around in his groin, and the pressure just from Taehyung's fingers on his cock reminded him that it was still there. He whimpered a little as Taehyung's palm cupped the head, the lube aiding the glide of his skin over it, and then it was gone. His fingers were holding either side of the base, keeping Jungkook's cock steady for Jimin.
Swallowing thickly, his tongue peeking out to flit over his plush lower lip, Jimin bowed his back to look down between himself and Jungkook. Taehyung's hand was there, his other resting on Jimin's back, thumb brushing against him there as he lowered himself—and then the head of Jungkook's cock breached him, and he was sliding down onto it, slowly, evenly.
He'd been stretched enough that he took the whole thing in one, sitting on top of Jungkook's hips with his knees held tight to his sides; he rested for a moment with his hands on Jungkook's shoulders, collecting himself.
"Lean forward," Taehyung said, and Jimin didn't bother waiting—he bent his elbows, lowering his chest to Jungkook's, and resumed the kiss that had been cut short before. Jungkook focused on Jimin's soft lips, the way his mouth felt against his own. He had missed them, of course—but it wasn't until they were able to be together like that that he realized just how much. He was normally deprived of the two of them—but this, really—he missed his boyfriends so much that he ached for them. And this—this was one of the best ways that he knew to fix it.
Coldness seeped between Jimin's cheeks and dripped down onto Jungkook’s cock; Taehyung was pouring lube onto him, ready to finger him open a bit more before penetrating him at the same time, and Jungkook sighed against Jimin's lips.
"Love this," Jimin said, nose hitting into Jungkook's before he took his lips in another kiss. "Just glad it's you this time and not a fake dick."
A short sigh. "Can you just call it a dildo like everybody else?" Taehyung asked, his voice impatient.
"Dildo sounds so weird," Jimin said, and Jungkook let himself relax back against the cool pillow—the two of them did this banter thing, even during sex (especially during sex, it sometimes seemed to him) and he had learned to just let it play out.
"You sound so weird," Taehyung said, which Jungkook took to mean that he, too, wanted to get back to what they were doing instead of messing around.
"Weak," Jimin managed to say—barely, because Jungkook had lifted his hips, his cock pressing a little deeper into Jimin, causing his voice to crack.
Taehyung chose not to dignify that with a response—though he did smirk at Jungkook over Jimin's shoulder—and then he was pressing two fingers against Jimin's rim.
They slipped into him easily, fitting right in next to Jungkook's cock. Jimin tensed a little above him, but Jungkook only held him close again, kissing his chin and cheeks, even the tip of his nose before Jimin ducked his head, capturing Jungkook's mouth with his own. Their tongues moved together, and they could both feel when Taehyung slid a third finger in. He stretched Jimin further, sliding his fingers from one side to the other—Jungkook felt his abdomen clench just a little, the friction and pressure on his cock just as pleasurable for him as it was for Jimin.
"One more?" Taehyung asked, and Jimin panted a little, nodding—Jungkook could feel his cock dribbling out precome on his stomach, wetting both of them. He liked it.
"Yeah," Jungkook replied for him, since Jimin was too busy taking in a long, deep breath.
They both startled a little when Taehyung poured more lube onto them, though it felt like it had taken on some residual warmth from how tightly he was holding onto the container; Jungkook bit back a moan when another finger pressed against the underside of his cock, but Jimin didn't have anything close to the same kind of reticence. He let himself make noise, let himself whine loudly as he pushed back against Taehyung's fingers; he was so full, and soon he would be even fuller.
Opening his eyes again, Jimin let his lips drag along Jungkook's cheek, moving up toward his ear. "Can't wait for both of you to be inside me," he said, and Jungkook clenched his jaw, forcing himself not to fuck up into the tight heat of Jimin's hole. "Need you both, love you both," Jimin was saying. Jungkook slid his hands down Jimin's back, trying to hold his hips steady for Taehyung—he accomplished it, but he also managed to lace his fingers with Taehyung's, holding his hand as he stretched Jimin with four fingers. He would be loose, so fucking loose, gaping, but he wanted it, and who were they not to oblige?
Jimin hissed as Taehyung slid his fingers out, but before he could properly complain the blunt head of his prick had taken their place. Jungkook pulled Jimin up a little, his dick sliding out of him to let Taehyung move in. Jungkook's tongue flitted over his lower lip, and he looked up at Taehyung's face, taking in the concentration on his face, and when he finally slid home, it was like nothing that Jungkook had ever felt before.
He gasped aloud, certain that he saw Taehyung snickering at him—Jimin was too far gone to tease him, and Jungkook had to admit that he didn't care whether Taehyung poked fun at him a bit. He had never, in his life, felt anything like this, and he loved it.
The head of Jungkook's cock was still caught in Jimin's hole, and Taehyung slowly moved his hips back to let Jungkook fuck back in. He did, taking his time, holding on to Jimin who was clinging to him, already a fucked out mess. Jungkook could feel his knees squeezing tight to his sides, and he was mouthing at Jungkook's neck absently as his cock leaked with precome, their fronts nearly sticking together from it.
Taehyung moaned weakly as his cock slid against Jungkook's, it was so much better than the slide of a silicone toy, and he was pretty sure that he wasn't going to last long. Jimin was rolling his hips as best he could, wanting to feel both of them moving inside of him, and he turned his head to rest on Jungkook's shoulder, lips parted and wanting of Taehyung's kiss.
He bent over his boyfriend the best he could. He let his cock slide out, just the head inside of Jimin—in turn letting Jungkook rut up into him, slow but sure—and kissed him. Jimin's entire body was tight, his arms shaking and his toes curling, but his lips were soft and pliable and he moved to Taehyung's will while they were kissing.
Jimin snapped with a short gasp against Taehyung's mouth—Jungkook had slid out, just enough for Taehyung to fuck back in—and that had done it for him. He came untouched, his body alight, marking both himself and Jungkook with semen; they'd have to shower after this, for sure, but neither of them could even think that far ahead.
"Fuck, he's—" Jungkook moaned, his eyes squeezing shut as Jimin's mouth returned to its place on his neck, sucking a bruise there. Taehyung had pulled back, straightened up; he was fucking shallowly into Jimin, and he and Jungkook both reached their climaxes within seconds of each other, still sensitive from their prior orgasms.
"I fucking—fucking love you," Jimin whined, mewling quietly as they came inside of him; Jungkook's deeper than Taehyung's. He had pulled out, letting ropes of come land on Jimin's hole, Jungkook's balls, both of their thighs.
"And Tae," Jungkook said, and Taehyung gave a short laugh, followed by, "And Jungkook."
"And we just sit here and watch?" Jimin asked, crossing his legs, but leaning slightly to the side. He was still sore from their rendezvous at the hotel the day prior, even though they'd let him lie around for the rest of the day, and night, on his stomach.
"Yep," Jungkook chirped, tugging on the collar of his jersey (really just a glorified t-shirt with the screen printed, stylized crosshair logo of his team on the front and NOCHU on the back). He had secured them both front row seats for the match he'd be playing in—Deadeyes versus another local team, the Di-Vas. They were an all-girl team, and Jungkook and Taehyung were both happy to see something like that, considering the representation of women in the Overwatch League, at the very least, was paltry.
"Good luck," Taehyung said, standing up to kiss Jungkook on the cheek. The match would be starting soon, and Jungkook needed to take his place with the rest of his team.
"Kill 'em all," Jimin gave his customary Overwatch-related well-wishes, not moving from where he'd settled himself. Jungkook bent down to kiss him instead, then hurried up to the table where their computers had been set up.
It was nothing like the League or World Cup—obviously—but there was a screen set up behind them that would switch between players' views intermittently throughout the game. Jungkook wasn't sure exactly how it worked—he would admit that his eyes had kind of glazed over when Nick explained it to them—but all he really cared about was winning the match.
His role was DPS, of course—he picked Widow right away, and his screen happened to be showing at that moment, so when he locked in, the crowd that was there cheered.
"Amazing," Jimin said, leaning over to Taehyung, his tone a mixture of disdain and pleasantly surprised disbelief.
Taehyung chose not to take the bait. "I know," he replied, pretending like he didn't understand what Jimin's comment really meant. "It's cool how many people are here." He reached over to take Jimin's hand—and that shut him up for the duration of the match.
There was another Widowmaker playing—she was a cute girl with a round face, her hair tied back in a ponytail; it was dyed a deep blue, like Widowmaker's appeared to be, and after the Di-Vas won the first match and she raised her fists in triumph, they could see tattoos that matched the spider on the character's back, on both of the girl's upper arms.
"Will Jungkook switch off of Widowspider?" Jimin whispered to Taehyung as the teams chose their heroes for the next round.
"Maybe if he can't pick her off at the beginning," Taehyung replied, not bothering to correct him. "He might let someone else try."
But as the match started, Jungkook had chosen to run Widowmaker again. He got a few huge picks right at the beginning of the match, able to set up against the enemy team quicker thanks to a speed boost from his team's Lúcio—he took out the enemy Widow and their Mercy. He retreated as quickly as he could, but the enemy Genji caught up to him and eliminated him before he could fall back behind his team and take a proper defensive position.
The rest of the match was definitely set by the first two kills he got, though—they escorted the payload all the way to the third point, just as the Di-Vas did, which meant that they had to play yet another round—which Deadeyes won, managing to block the Di-Vas from even securing the first point, and then taking it themselves after the sides switched.
Jungkook had dragged Taehyung and Jimin along with him to celebrate his first win with his team—it was reminiscent of the time he'd gone to New York to celebrate Jimin's play with them, except this time, Jimin was the only one who felt out of place. Jungkook did his best to stay with his boyfriends, though, and when he did get pulled away by a teammate, he always returned with shots for all of them to do together, so Jimin wasn't too put out by it.
New York was waiting for them, though—they enjoyed the time they had in Los Angeles, forcing Jungkook to stay over in their hotel even though he tried to explain that he needed to spend time with his team, too—and he rode with Nick as he drove them to the airport, Carolyn's car unavailable that day.
"I'll miss you guys," Jungkook said, standing off to the side with both of them, while Nick tapped away at his phone in the driver's seat, waiting. "We'll, um," he tried to continue, though he was having trouble. He already missed them and they were standing right in front of him. "We'll see each other again soon." It wasn't a question, but it was a question.
"We will," Jimin said, stepping forward to hug Jungkook, his arms wrapping around his waist. Taehyung smiled at the sight, leaning in to kiss Jungkook over Jimin's shoulder—he smiled against Taehyung's mouth, which was the only reason at all that Taehyung felt all right with getting on that plane.
"We'll call when we land," Taehyung said, taking Jungkook's hand and squeezing it before he and Jimin turned and walked into the airport. Jungkook watched them until he couldn't see them anymore, lost in the crowd, and when he returned to the car and wiped beneath both of his eyes with his shirtsleeve, Nick had the courtesy to ignore it and instead ask what he'd like to listen to on the radio.
"So what do you think?"
Taehyung glanced over at Jimin. He'd been flipping through the emergency instructions from the pocket of the seat in front of him, for lack of anything better to do, because since takeoff they’d been sitting there in silence while Jimin did nothing on his laptop.
"About moving?" Taehyung asked. Jimin hadn't mentioned it—neither had he himself—but it was all he could think about since they had left Jungkook.
"How did you know—" Jimin started to say, but Taehyung cut him off.
"What else could you have meant?" Taehyung replied. He folded the flimsy cardboard of the instructions back up and put it away, next to the sickness bag where he'd found it. "I can't stand being so far away from him."
Jimin exhaled heavily, blowing out his breath in one low, long motion. He let himself whistle a little bit—though not too much, because it sounded as though the baby a few rows up had finally been put to sleep by its mother, and the last thing he wanted to do was wake it up again.
"Would you consider it?"
"I don't want to consider staying in New York while he's out here," Taehyung replied. "I mean—before he was close, just a couple hours away. Now it's like—now, there's a whole country between us. I hate that."
Jimin licked his lip. "I texted my agent before," he admitted, and Taehyung started to ask when, but Jimin beat him to it, "when you and Jungkook were practically eye fucking that Bridget cosplayer you saw on Twitter—"
"Brigitte," Taehyung corrected him, pronouncing all three syllables of her name. Jimin ignored him.
"And I asked if maybe she could start looking for work out in Los Angeles for me, or...like, connect me with someone out there."
Taehyung paused, the cosplayer and her costume (or really, lack thereof) forgotten. "Wait—really?"
Jimin paused, then nodded. "Yeah. I mean, it'll take some time, but I figure you can still do photography in California, and I'll finally land parts in, you know, Hollywood blockbusters like I deserve—"
"Oh my god, Jimin," Taehyung said, cutting him off with a big, smacking kiss right on the lips. "Oh my god."
"I think we should really think about it," Jimin said, his smile only growing when he saw Taehyung's widening, his mouth the most precious rectangle.
"I would—love that," Taehyung said, his words catching for a moment. "Really, it—"
"We'll figure it out," Jimin said, taking Taehyung's hand. "You promised me that we'd start Riverdale on the flight home, though."
Taehyung opened his mouth to argue, wanting to talk about a move, but Jimin let go of his hand, bringing his index finger to Taehyung's lips.
Taehyung sighed through his nose, but pressed a small kiss to Jimin's finger instead, acquiescing. He turned toward Jimin's laptop, set out on the food tray since they'd been allowed to use electronics. He put the earbud that Jimin gave him in, and they settled in to watch the new teen drama that Jimin had chosen for them. (It was better than Pretty Little Liars, he decided.)
"How friggin' long is it going to take him, though?" Jimin asked, hands on his hips.
"It's a lot to carry," Taehyung said. "Plus he's moving from like, the suburbs to the city. It's not like it's easy to find a place to park."
"I know that, but—"
He was cut off by the door behind them opening—a term used lightly. Really, the doorknob was turned, the door opened the slightest bit, and then it was kicked, bouncing off the wall as it forcibly hit into it.
"Dude," Taehyung scolded him. "The fucking security deposit, hello?"
"It's fine," Jungkook replied, his voice muffled by the boxes he was laden with. Taehyung and Jimin hurried over to help him; Taehyung grabbed one of the heavy cardboard boxes, while Jimin opted for a small bag that was slung over Jungkook's arm.
"That's empty," Jungkook said, "I only brought it just in case—can you take this?" But Jimin was already walking away, depositing the empty duffel bag on the couch, along with the rest of the boxes stacked near it. Jungkook surveyed the living room; he had almost as much stuff as the other two combined, and they had moved from across the country.
"Do you have anything else downstairs?" Taehyung asked, stepping over to the shoe rack they’d set up to slip on his sneakers if need be.
"Yeah," Jungkook said. "Carolyn's circling the block 'cause she had to double park to let me unload those first two boxes."
"I'll go with you," Taehyung said. They both looked at Jimin, as though waiting for him to volunteer. He was on his phone, scrolling through something, and looked up only when there was a lull in the conversation. Both Taehyung and Jungkook were looking at him expectantly.
"What?" Jimin asked, pocketing his phone.
"Are you gonna come help us carry Kook's stuff in?" Taehyung asked.
"Oh," Jimin replied, crossing his arms, then lowering them immediately, straightening his shirt over his hips. "No, I was just gonna make sure he didn't fuck up the door." They stared blankly at him. "Or the wall," he added, like that was why they were giving him dirty looks.
"Let's just go," Jungkook said, rolling his eyes and smirking a bit. He grabbed Taehyung by the arm and turned him, leading him back out of the door, leaving it open. Jimin left it as well, hoping maybe a friendly neighbor would wander by to welcome them, but in the end he just leaned against the back of the couch, marveling in the apartment. They could afford it all on their own—three jobs helped with that—and now they were together, in LA. He looked down at his feet, lifted one to nudge the other with his toes, and smiled to himself, waiting for his boyfriends to come back upstairs
They got to meet Carolyn for longer than a few minutes, and she even offered to take them out to dinner to welcome them to the city. They thanked her but said maybe next time—they were still a bit tired from moving in, not to mention the flight, and besides, Taehyung had gone to pick up a few things from a nearby grocery store to cook for them.
They ate in silence, balanced on the folding chairs that Nick had let Jungkook borrow until they figured out the rest of their furniture situation—there wasn't even a table, and they were eating off paper plates. The one thing they had splurged on was a bigger bed—because even the couch in the living room was second hand, only purchased to have somewhere to sit—but a bigger bed would fit all three of them, like the one in the hotel when they'd visited Los Angeles those few months prior. It took up nearly the whole bedroom, just like in New York, but it was a small price to pay knowing that the three of them could sleep side by side on a mattress, instead of on the floor.
Their first night in LA was spent in that bed, exploring each other's bodies like it was the first time all over again. Each of them was spent by the time they fell asleep, legs tangled together, so not even they knew where one of them ended and the next began. It was perfect, or at least as close as they could ever get.
A loud buzzing woke them the next morning—or, two of them, at least.
It turned out to be Jimin's phone; he'd left it on the bedside table, and when he answered it, he sat up straight without warning.
"Hi," he said, stirring Jungkook even further from his slumber. "Yes, yes, I can talk."
Sunlight was streaming through the blinds now, and Jungkook just knew he'd never be able to fall back to sleep. He sat up, groaning a little—he was still sore and stretched from the night before, when he'd let Jimin and Taehyung fuck him one after the other, all of them switching until they were literally too tired to continue; he tucked himself back against their pillows and tugged the comforter up under his chin.
He listened to Jimin's half of the conversation—it sounded like a work thing, so he didn't want to interrupt, and by the time he'd hung up the phone, Jungkook actually had managed to drift off again a little bit.
"Guess who has a fucking audition?" Jimin half-shouted, waking Jungkook up for real, and summoning Taehyung, who appeared at the door in a flour-stained apron with the design of a woman's body in a bikini on it.
"What the fuck is that?" Jungkook asked, wrinkling his nose at the apron.
"This one thinks he's good at buying gag gifts," Taehyung replied, nodding to Jimin. "Joke's on him, I actually use them."
"Is it my turn to talk now? Good, thanks," Jimin said, without giving anyone a chance to speak. "I have an audition next week. Praise me."
"Are you cooking something?" Jungkook asked Taehyung, the pair of them snickering as Jimin looked at him, mouth open wide in rage. "I'm joking—that's amazing. I'm so proud of you, 'Min." Jungkook tackled him to the bed, wrestling him down against it until he could hold him still and shower him with kisses wherever he could reach. Taehyung joined them, floury apron and all.
They ended up snuggling Jimin, who basked in the attention, until Jungkook broke the silence.
"What are you cooking? It's like...early."
"I was baking the cake," Taehyung said, apparently meaning something specific.
"What cake?" Jungkook asked, but Jimin sat up, knowing exactly what cake he meant.
"The cake? The cake? Did you even get strawberries?"
Taehyung grinned, and Jimin flipped himself up and over, sprawled out on top of him, kissing Taehyung this time, not minding that he was covering himself and the sheets below them with flour.
"What cake?" Jungkook asked again.
Jimin took pity, nestling his head on Taehyung's fully-clothed shoulder. "It was in this magazine I had a while back, I wanted him to make it for me and he never did because he's obsessed with policing my diet—"
"You would eat garbage food for every meal if I let you," Taehyung grumbled.
"—but now he did because I guess he finally decided that he actually really loves me."
"It was to—celebrate being here, all of us. Together," Taehyung replied, sitting up as Jimin moved off of him. "I have to go check the oven—" He stood up, but Jimin knelt on the bed and spoke after him.
"Maybe I'll let you make me my own Overwatch account tonight," Jimin said. "I'll officially become a D.Va major."
"D.Va main," Taehyung said over his shoulder, then disappeared out of the room—but they could see him smiling as he went.
"You know they made a Busan map, right?" Jungkook asked, rubbing the sleep out of one of his eyes—and nearly falling out of the bed in surprise when Jimin shouted back at him.
"They what?" he asked loudly, excited despite himself. "Why was this game literally made for me?"
Jungkook shook his head, amused—no. He was charmed, really. Jimin had changed so much since they'd first met—they all had, truth be told, and Jungkook could only attribute it to the three of them simply bringing out the best in each other. They would be a three stack, always, to the end.