Probably the most embarrassing thing Hoseok’s ever had to do in his whole entire life (or his whole entire career as a paramedic, anyway) is call for emergency services because they’ve just gotten themselves into an ugly and terribly humiliating accident.
Jeongguk’s voice rings loud over the radio, his laughter high and cackling as Hoseok talks through his teeth, explaining the situation at hand, “Oh my god, Taehyung did what?”
Hoseok gives the boy five more seconds to console himself before Hoseok decides to threaten him. Thankfully, Jeongguk does, but only after they hear a scuffle at the other end of the line, quickly followed by an “ouch” and then Namjoon’s voice, a little bit too smug and amused when he asks them for a blow by blow of what had happened.
“Well, you see,” Taehyung’s hands drop from the steering wheel (Hoseok had noticed his knuckles turning white, his grip around the wheel too tight). “We were responding to a call, and traffic is really bad at this time of the day, isn’t it, hyung?”
“Oh my god,” Hoseok groans, officially giving up on Taehyung. He takes over the entire conversation and tells them exactly what had happened - Taehyung riding too high on his little sugar rush and thinking that just because they have the siren on doesn’t mean vehicles would part like the Red Sea did for Moses (and they would have, Hoseok thinks, they totally would have, or else all hope is lost against humanity and the world just fucking sucks). An exclamation of the boy’s knowledge of a not-so-known shortcut had drained the colour from Hoseok’s face simply because he didn’t trust any of Taehyung’s short cuts - and with good reason.
See also: this stupid bender on the side of what seems to be a too-empty road that could totally be the next location of a stupid thriller and horror movie (or, could it be that it’s they that’s stumbled into the thriller and horror movie by breaking down at the side of the road? Who knows, Hoseok surely doesn’t. Neither does Taehyung.).
“It was a sharp turn and - “ Hoseok can’t even bear himself to say the next words.
“We crashed into a hydrant and almost drove into an Italian deli’s windows,” Taehyung doesn’t sound the least bit remorseful of his terrible driving (and had they both still been in training, then an accident like this would mean the end of their careers, but here they are, fully trained and functioning paramedics still getting into the most terrible of accidents that could either mean life or death for whoever had called on their help.).
“What about the patient?” Trust Namjoon to keep a level head and withhold the laughter and jesting for later, “Please tell me you didn’t call us first before you alerted the dispatcher,”
“Of course not,” it’s insulting enough for Namjoon to think them both that incapable, but then again - Taehyung did just drive their favourite rig into a fire hydrant (and oh god, that means the fire department’s on their way, doesn’t it?) “Thank god a public ambulance was also on their way,”
“The fire department’s on their way, too,” Namjoon confirms Hoseok’s biggest fears, his cackle barely stifled. In the background, Hoseok can hear Jeongguk doubled over himself in laughter. That little brat.
“Why?” Taehyung’s voice sounds far away and it’s only when Hoseok looks up to his side that he realises that Taehyung had jumped out of the driver’s seat to inspect the damage up ahead - perhaps also to apologise to the poor cashier on the other side of the window.
“Because you fucking crashed into a hydrant, what else did you think, Tae?” Namjoon groans, and Hoseok can imagine him in the station, head in his hands and a totally lost look on his face just from dealing with the both of them. What a handful, Namjoon always says (something Hoseok and Taehyung like to roll their eyes at because Namjoon himself is a handful and he doesn’t hear much from them, does he?).
“Oh, I hear them,” Hoseok readies himself for the eventful jeering by unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding out of the ambulance, landing immediately in a puddle - that he all too soon realises is not a puddle but a small flood that they’d caused.
Taehyung looks away from waving his apologies at the people in the deli to tell Hoseok that he has a terrible feeling they might be the cause of the entire corner of West 56th being closed down. Oh god.
Hoseok sees the massive truck as it turns, accompanied by a combination of amused grins and horrified expressions on their faces. Hoseok waves to them instead and Taehyung stands beside him, hands (literally) washed clean of the little accident.
Well, here goes their Monday.
It’s twenty minutes until the end of Hoseok’s gruelling 12 hour shift when the next batch arrives for theirs, their smiles barely there and their footsteps heavy as they drag themselves into the stations, knowing full well that the night shift crew sees more of the gritty, grimy stuff compared to those in the day shift.
At the sight of Jimin, Taehyung sits up from the couch to wave him over, the other boy quickly bouncing to where Taehyung is sat, their heads instantly drawing together close to talk amongst themselves. It’s always a fun shift when the two of them are involved - dangerous and reckless if you add Hoseok to that list (Hoseok suspects Seokjin is all too relieved to have finally torn them away from each other, after years of trying, thank Christ for that.).
Yoongi is the last to arrive from the night shift, literally just dragging himself into the station, both hands occupied with holding two cups of hot coffee. He looks like he hasn’t slept in the last thirty-six hours, hair a mess, and the circles under his eyes dark. Hoseok wants to say he looks like his usual, wonderful self, but he cuts back because Yoongi looks like he’s ready to flip the next person over if they so much as stepped in his way.
Which is sad to say for Namjoon, who obviously didn’t get the memo.
“Hey, why the look - “ Namjoon has hardly the time to finish his own question when Yoongi sidesteps him, completely ignoring whatever else Namjoon has to say as he makes a beeline to the kitchen, probably to refill his mug, or to take the coffee pot for ransom.
“He ran an extra twelve hours the last time,” Seokjin provides, glancing over his shoulder when they all hear the sound of a plate clattering against the sink. “Probably hasn’t had much time to sleep after that,”
Twenty-four hours on his feet. The mere idea of it sends chills down Hoseok’s spine. He feels sorry for Yoongi - they’ve all been there, done that, but it still fucking sucks. Which probably still doesn’t explain Hoseok slipping into the kitchen to aide Yoongi in whatever mess his half-asleep self is currently making.
(He carefully and quietly notes that there are no broken plates, so Seokjin can definitely stop holding his breath.)
Yoongi holds the cup gingerly in his hands, leaning against the counter to look up at Hoseok. Wispy strands of blonde hair hang across his eyes, Yoongi’s efforts of blowing them away from his face futile. Hoseok actually has to resist the urge to reach forward and swipe them away.
“Hey,” Yoongi starts, tilting the cup up to Hoseok. “How was the morning?” It’s always so strange, Yoongi still managing to keep up the niceties even after a terrible’s day of no sleep at all. A huge fucking wonder, if Hoseok was being honest.
“Not so bad,” Hoseok says, smiling at him. Slowly. Carefully. He’s not too sure if Yoongi’s up for a full blown conversation just yet, but he also wonders if he should hand Yoongi a third cup of coffee because there’s no way he’s going into his shift half-dead, his brain still muddled with sleep.
“Anything good happen?” Yoongi asks, taking a careful sip of his coffee. A moment of relief passes across his face at the first taste of caffeine (and Hoseok suspects that it won’t be his last cup, either. He’s willing to bet that Yoongi might end up downing at least four cups of coffee, all within the next hour. Nobody will bet against him, not even Seokjin.).
The memory of his and Taehyung’s little bender has Hoseok’s face flushing a terrible shade of red. He ducks away from Yoongi’s immediate line of sight, chuckling awkwardly to himself as he makes for the door, hand already on the door knob when he says, “Nope, no flood,”
Hoseok laughs again, hoping to god he doesn’t look extremely mental at this point (too late, he looks like he’s completely lost it, really), “I meant, nothing good happened, nah. Have a good shift, Yoongi,”
Yoongi smiles at him, tired and looking like he might need a full shot of espresso, but it’s a smile all the same.
Hoseok hears a quiet “good night” that follows behind him as the door closes. Just in time, because Jeongguk’s starting to tell the story again, all for the night crew to hear, hands moving in exaggerated motions (and Taehyung might have either given him the go or maybe he’s just out of ear shot, because Hoseok’s pretty sure Taehyung’s got his ways when it comes to shutting Jeongguk up.).
“Good night,” Hoseok announces to everybody else who isn’t invested in Jeongguk’s inane story telling. “No, we didn’t flood the block, it was an accident, Christ, where the hell is Taehyung?”
He barely manages to escape the group when he bumps into Yoongi again, this time the older boy with his eyebrows up and a definitive quirk in his smile.
“Good night, Hoseok,” Yoongi says a second time, eyes lighting up with just the hint of amusement.
Well, Hoseok thinks, at least Yoongi’s starting to look a little bit more alive. That’s - that’s good, really. Yoongi looking ready to tackle the next twelve hours is good.
Yoongi looks good.
And where had that thought even come from; Hoseok has to physically remove himself from the station, his face suddenly burning hot and flushing a deep red colour, starting from his neck and shooting up to his ears. God, really. Really?
“You look like you’re ready to drop dead,” Taehyung bumps shoulders with Hoseok, his eyebrows wiggling, and his smile all too knowing. “Good night, hm?”
They make their way to the car, not even bothering to wait for Jeongguk ( because as far as Taehyung’s concerned, he can walk back home.).
Hoseok doesn’t have it in him anymore to grit out his good night, not when Taehyung is looking far too smug for his own liking. So instead, Hoseok just shuts the door to his car and ducks out of sight, the only goodbye Taehyung ends up getting coming from the double flickering of his headlights.
He sees Taehyung laughing in his own car, hand raised in a final goodbye until their next twelve hour shift.
Hoseok might have made an idiot of himself in front of Yoongi (when has he not, really?), but at least he has a good thirty-six hours of rest to look forward to, now.
It’s just his luck to wake up way past his alarm - he remembers chucking his phone somewhere across the room. Remembers the sound of a soft clunk as it crashed on a pile of clothes by the corner. What he doesn’t remember is why - what had he been thinking?
Nearly six in the morning and he’s still running around the apartment, bumping into things in the dark, and quietly cursing himself out as he stumbles over a pillow by the couch. He successfully slips out of the apartment with barely a minute to spare, and if he speeds on the way to work then no one has to know - besides, the streets are empty at this time so early in the morning.
He walks into the station with a heavy sigh and empty hands, Namjoon pointing out his lack of his usual cold coffee beverage as soon as he spots Hoseok, still with the messy hair, and his uniform a little bit askew and unbuttoned.
“You look like you fought a dozen feral cats to get here,” Namjoon says, in lieu of a normal greeting, because somebody has to be the token smart ass at the ass crack of dawn. “Are you sure you’re ready for work?”
Hoseok looks him dead in the eye and tells him that if he doesn’t lay off for a second then he’ll hit him in the back of the head with that thick ass book he’s always got his eyes glued on, or so help him, god.
“There’s coffee in the kitchen,” Namjoon amends, voice dropping lower at the sudden threat.
Good. Hoseok needs caffeine before he can even try and one-up Namjoon.
It’s not a very good way to start the day, but Hoseok’s had worst mornings (see also an incident that one morning a few months ago where he literally had to crawl out of his fire escape just to get out, all because his door had decided to lodge itself into the goddamn frame.).
Seokjin waves him over with the enticing smell of coffee and a fresh box of bagels that somebody from the morning crew had brought for everybody. Hoseok inhales one in under a minute and it only proves just how attune Seokjin is to him already because the older boy doesn’t even bat an eye at his monstrous appetite anymore.
“Good morning,” Hoseok says, cracking his first smile of the day. He cradles a cup of steaming hot coffee between his hands, eyes closing momentarily as he allows himself to enjoy the fleeting pleasure of the smell of warm coffee and the taste of a good bagel after almost a day of no food at all, simply because he’d slept the last twenty-four hours. Easy as that.
“Try not to crash any more ambulances today,” Seokjin says, smiling at him. His laughter is good natured, nothing like the snickers he and Taehyung had gotten from everybody else. Good old Seokjin. Hoseok really can’t trust anyone as much as he trusts Seokjin in this station - there’s just something so easy about him, something unguarded and open. He’s a good friend on top of being a brilliant paramedic.
Before he slips out of the kitchen to say goodbye to the rest of the crew, he gives Hoseok’s shoulder a small pat, his last words to him a friendly and concerned reminder to be more careful, because it’s quite likely they could have gotten hurt.
The sound of loud laughter from outside alerts Hoseok of Taehyung and Jeongguk’s arrival, as well as their clash with one Park Jimin, whose shrill and loud laughter fills the entire station. The three of them can give the entire city a run for their money - very good paramedics, but reckless nonetheless (see also: Taehyung crashing the ambulance into a fire hydrant.).
“Slept well?” Hoseok almost jumps out of his skin at the sudden question, failing to realise Yoongi stepping into the kitchen not a minute ago. He closes the fridge with a small frown on his face (probably at the expired milk, or because there’s nothing else to eat but junk, who knows. Could be both.), and turns to look at Hoseok.
He doesn’t look as tired as he had a week ago. He looks more rested, but - but there’s still the dark circles under his eyes, the finger-combed hair out of frustration. There’s no rigid set in his shoulders, though, which means he’s more relaxed. Well, he’s coming off a twelve hour shift, Hoseok’s not surprised even Yoongi’s relieved.
“Yeah, you should, too,” He offers a smile, bright enough for six in the morning but not too bright for someone who’s worked twelve hours non-stop, answering calls with no abandon, and rushing throughout the entire city for god knows what kind of emergency at two in the damn morning. “Maybe skip out on the coffee today,”
Yoongi groans, “These night shifts are fucking me over. I can’t fall asleep when it’s still so bright out,”
Hoseok remembers those days all too well - he’s only thankful now for his new schedule, it changes more often than it doesn’t, but it’s not as erratic as when he’d first been transferred to this station. It’s much, much better.
“I think it’s because there’s more caffeine in your system than blood,” Hoseok says with a grin.
Yoongi rolls his eyes but he cracks a small smile, anyway, and it’s nice. A pretty easy smile for someone who’s worked themselves to the bone. “I can’t fall asleep in the middle of a call, can I?”
“You sure as hell can. That’s the story behind the crashed ambulance - not that Taehyung was on a sugar high. He fell asleep, that’ll get us more sympathy,”
“Whatever you say,” Yoongi actually snorts out a laugh, his pallid face flushing with a little bit of colour, cheeks tinting a slight pink. “Well, don’t work too hard,”
It’s always awkward, trying to dance around Yoongi. It’s like Hoseok’s wading in shark infested waters - sharks that probably won’t attack him but are just making a pretty damn good show of frightening him (which is an accurate representation of Yoongi, except that Hoseok’s pretty sure sharks don’t have a smile like Yoongi does. Sharks have sharp teeth. Yoongi has a cute smile. What a world of difference.).
Hoseok watches as Yoongi waves to the rest of them, his yawn barely stifled in the back of his hand. For a split second, he catches Hoseok’s eye. A second too long, because Hoseok quickly looks away, his cheeks suddenly hot.
And no matter how many times Taehyung insists that it’s because he’s stared at Yoongi the entire morning, it still isn’t the reason. Hoseok’s just, well - he just easily colours, that’s it (and definitely not because he’s harbouring a teeny-tiny crush on a teeny-tiny paramedic, definitely not.).
“Shut up,” Hoseok mumbles, shoving Taehyung off of the couch so he can unfold his legs and stretch out on the length of it. “Go restrain your boyfriend, or something,”
“We left the leash in the bedroom,” Taehyung says, matter of fact, and Hoseok should have expected that because Taehyung and Jeongguk are both freaks, but. But he doesn’t, and so he ends up almost coughing a lung out while Jeongguk watches with a raised eyebrow, clearly no desire to help out his senior.
“This is how I’m going to die,” Hoseok gasps out, sitting up straight. “I’m going to die in this station. And it’s going to be fucking ironic because I’ll be surrounded by paramedics,”
Jeongguk shrugs, “I mean, would you want us to call emergency services, or would you trust us with your dying breath?”
Hoseok’s only retaliation comes with a small pillow he throws at Jeongguk, one the boy expertly ducks away from. It hits Namjoon at the back of the head and causes another round of raucous laughter from both Taehyung and Jeongguk.
“He’d probably want us to call Yoongi,” Hoseok hears Taehyung whisper from his spot on the floor, the younger boy’s eyebrows raising as he tries to hide the smug little smirk that’s slowly creeping its way to his face. “Or, not.”
This is it.
This is how Hoseok’s going to die - he’s going to end up suffocating on air and then a hole heading straight into hell will open up on the floor and he’ll have no other choice but to jump in it. It’s better than his dead body being mobbed by the most childish paramedics, ever.
“Don’t be grim,” Namjoon grumbles, throwing the pillow back at Hoseok. It hits his shoulder and falls right into his lap. “Now go check on the rig’s supplies before we get a call,”
Taehyung jumps up from his spot on the floor and makes a mock salute to Namjoon, grin bright as ever as he says, “Aye, chief, whatever you say.”
Hoseok hears Taehyung running a checklist of all the supplies they need in the rig. Hears his voice grow even more distant as Taehyung gets farther and farther away. He also hears Jeongguk’s snickering, too, the boy still too fucking amused at the situation at hand.
“Shut up,” Hoseok mumbles, dropping the pillow on his face. Let him die of suffocation, he’s ready.
“Whatever you say, hyung.” Jeongguk hums, tone the most angelic Hoseok’s ever heard from him.
Great. This just means the end is near and Hoseok hasn’t got a choice - he’s stuck here for the next twelve hours. Truly wonderful, the life of a paramedic at rest in the station.
As glamorous as glamorous could be.
Hoseok falls asleep to the sound of the rest of his crew talking over one another. To Taehyung and Jimin laughing somewhere by the round tables. To Namjoon arguing with Seokjin and Namjoon. He even hears Jeongguk cursing at a football match on TV. All in all, it’s a pretty packed station, so it’s a fucking miracle Hoseok’s managed to fall asleep amidst all the noise.
A twelve hour shift can do that to you, he’s noticed.
So Hoseok sleeps, curled on the couch just above Jeongguk, mind going blank as everything else around him slowly fades out to black. And it’s a good sleep, too. A good hour or two, Hoseok thinks - that is, until he sees the digital clock just above the TV. It flashes three fourteen.
“Fuck,” Hoseok curses, almost rolling off of the couch entirely in his struggle to get up.
The station is awfully quiet at three in the morning - the rest of the night crew probably just stalled at a busy intersection, or playing in the kitchen. It’s dim, too - well, at least this part of the room, anyway.
Hoseok doesn’t hear anything else except - except a quiet shuffling beside him and a low voice, thick with sleep, saying, “What’s going on?”
Yoongi is curled on the other end of the couch, eyes trying to blink out the sleep. He lifts his head up, squints at Hoseok, and says, more tired than Hoseok’s ever heard him, “Hey, you’re awake,”
“And you were sleeping,” On duty, too, but it’s not like none of them have ever tried to sneak an hour or two of sleep between shifts. They’ve all done it and it’s nothing new - especially with Yoongi, too. He’s an excellent paramedic and excellent paramedics aren’t supposed to be running around half asleep. “It’s three in the morning,”
Yoongi (and Hoseok notices that he has a blanket, too. A fucking blanket.) pushes himself up to sit, blanket draping off of his shoulders. “I was supposed to wake you up,”
It’s dimly lit and Hoseok can barely make out Yoongi’s face, but he can swear that Yoongi had cracked a small smile. A grin, even. Or it could just have been a trick of the light (or the lack, thereof.). “It’s been really quiet here and I swear I was going to wake you up, until,” and he gestures a little bit lamely to himself, blanket and all.
Hoseok snorts out a laugh at that, disbelief clear on his face. It’s unlike Yoongi to be so ruffled like this, to be so off guard in the middle of duty. But, Hoseok supposes that slow nights bring even the best people down. He can’t fault Yoongi that.
“I can’t believe you,” Hoseok says, still laughing. It’s a quiet one, a laugh reserved for three in the morning, when everyone else is either falling asleep with cups of coffee cradled in their hands or finding an assortment of ways to keep themselves awake. “I could have slept at home,”
Yoongi gives him an unapologetic shrug, “You can go home, now,”
“That I’ll do,” Hoseok pushes off of the couch, leaving Yoongi on the other end by himself, looking far too small under his enormous blanket. “I’m going to go home and sleep for the next twenty hours,”
It’s another two days for Hoseok until his next shift, and god, he can feel it in his bones. Just how it rattles against the softest gust of wind. How tired he is at the end of every shift, how bogged down he is. It’s ridiculous but at the same time - Hoseok’s gotten used to it, although it still doesn’t make every day easier than the day before it.
Yoongi watches him walk off to the side of the building, Hoseok’s hand already wrapped around the doorknob. He hesitates for a second, caught between wanting to stay and maybe bother Yoongi for five more minutes and bolting, because he’s only going to be bothering Yoongi, and god, Hoseok would never, really.
So instead, Hoseok just shoots Yoongi another smile, this time much brighter, and says, “G’night, Yoongi,”
The door closes behind Hoseok and he’s not sure if he’d heard it right, but Hoseok swears - or at least, the delusional part of his brain does - that Yoongi had said, take care.
And if Hoseok’s cheeks burn red with embarrassment then nobody has to know - it’s three in the morning, the calls aren’t coming, and the entire station is in low spirits, quietly tending to their deflating energy. Nobody really has to know that a three minute conversation with Yoongi had caused an entire fucking storm in Hoseok’s stomach, not to mention the instant colouring of his cheeks.
He can almost hear Taehyung in his head, now, humming out a, what did I tell you?
It’s become a bad habit, Hoseok falling asleep during the last few minutes of his shift and ending up curled on the couch for the remainder of the night. And it’s not even his fault, really - who would want to sleep on a couch when they had a perfectly fine bed waiting for them at home? Nobody, not any of these idiots here, for sure, and certainly not Hoseok. But.
But, as it so happens, work has been kicking his ass to the curb, shift after shift, and Hoseok feels like he’s been stretched too thin, like he’s about to snap at any moment now.
Falling asleep is merely one of the easier ways to shrug the stress and the fatigue of work off of his shoulders, if only for a few short hours.
And so he falls asleep again, right after a shift, with Taehyung and Jeongguk bouncing excitedly on the couch as they scream over each other, the two idiots taking Mario Kart far too seriously for boys their age. Hoseok sleeps through it - sleeps right through Namjoon trying to shake him awake. Definitely sleeps right through the numerous calls that the night crew gets.
(Three days later, Namjoon will roll his eyes at him and tell him that Hoseok could never say he hadn’t tried, because he had, and it’s really not his fault Hoseok sleeps better than the dead.
Hoseok will only scoff and roll his eyes but at the same time, be a teeny, tiny bit grateful - every dragged out minute of sleep is solace, all on its own.).
It’s past five in the morning when he wakes up next, eyes adjusting to the dimly lit room and the flickering light from the t.v. He sits up, groggy and sleep still weighing heavy on him. The sound of static rings throughout the room, the few remaining paramedics already scrambling to get out and into the ambulance.
A shift on the other side of the couch alerts Hoseok to the presence of another, and he turns, one hand still rubbing at his eyes. “What’s going on?”
Sleep, his mind wants to scream at him. Flight, another voice says, because even when he’s half-awake and falling asleep on his feet, just the sound of dispatch crackling through their radios is enough to jump start him.
“Hey,” it’s Yoongi’s voice, his face soon coming into focus when all the lights are turned on again. Hoseok blinks against the harsh light, sees a flash of a smile on Yoongi’s face, and hears him say, “You’re off duty. We’ve got this,”
And he places a hand on Hoseok’s knee, just for a fleeting second - so quickly it’s gone, Hoseok’s not even sure if it had really happened or not. Yoongi gets up soon after that, head turned to where Jimin’s yelling at him from the back doors leading to the garage.
“Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you up after,” Yoongi says, voice sounding a bit distant. He chances one last glance at Hoseok - slumped against the couch and an arm thrown over his eyes, it’s too glaringly bright all of a sudden - and then rushes off after Jimin.
It must be the time, or his own lack of sleep, or maybe it’s just the fact that things are weirder than they seem at the ass crack of dawn - time itself flows weirder so early in the day. Hoseok doesn’t even remember falling back to sleep, or grumbling out a reply to an empty room, but the next thing he knows is that it’s thirty past six and Yoongi is shaking him awake, hand gentle on his shoulder, and his face tired, but still trying for a smile.
Or, as much of a smile as somebody who’s worked the dreaded twelve hours of night shift can muster, anyway.
“Good morning,” Hoseok hears himself grumble, slowly shuffling to his feet. He can hear the entire station coming to life, the quiet bustle of the night crew as they gather their belongings and what’s left of their sanity.
“Can you still drive?” Yoongi asks, raising an eyebrow as Hoseok almost trips over the thick blanket around him (and where had that come from, Hoseok wonders.).
Hoseok nods, “Yeah. I’m awake,”
Probably not very awake, judging by the slight scoff Yoongi gives him, but whatever. Hoseok can drive half-awake. He can probably drive an ambulance half-awake, too, but he’s not willing to bet on that, not when he and Taehyung are too prone to accidents (danger, Seokjin wants to say.
Trouble, Namjoon wants to add.
Shut up, Hoseok and Taehyung would bite.)
“We should go get something to eat,”
It’s not until Yoongi’s stared at him for a good minute or so before he replies, the sure wheezing out of him as he laughs behind his hand, because of course, only Hoseok would sleep through an entire twelve-hour shift in the station and wake up the very next morning groggy, still beaten down by his own shift, and want breakfast. Of course.
And it’s not weird at all that he’s going out for breakfast with Yoongi. Not weird at all that their only interaction with each other has been limited to awkward break room talk, but Hoseok’s already slept through all of Yoongi’s shifts twice, and anything of that sort is bound to shake up something in their dynamic.
The good kind, Hoseok hopes.
He flashes a small, tired little smile at Yoongi who returns it (although it’s more of a twitch on the corner of his mouth, but it’s a good as a smile as any, coming from Yoongi.).
“Who’s your ICE?” It’s a lazy afternoon and Hoseok and Taehyung have got nothing better to do than idle around in the station, Taehyung’s feet propped on Hoseok’s lap.
Behind them, Jeongguk and Namjoon are running back and forth, trying to keep an updated check list of all the things that their ambulance still currently needs.
(Ten minutes ago Namjoon had stormed into the middle of the room and asked just what the hell the both of them are doing, to which they’d replied with lazy shrugs and a resounding, “We do that every morning, our rig’s good to go.”
Namjoon had avoided eye contact ever since.)
“My emergency contact?” Hoseok asks, flicking through channels on the t.v. and almost tipping his stale cup of coffee over. “I never thought of that,”
“You have to register that,” Taehyung drops one too many chips into his mouth and it’s only because of their years of friendship that Hoseok doesn’t tip him over the side of the couch and dump his sorry ass on the dirty carpet.
Hoseok shrugs, snatching the bag of chips away from him, “You, I guess,”
It’s at that point that Namjoon walks back in, one hand on his waist and the most disapproving look on his face. “You seriously want Taehyung as your emergency contact? You’re always out together, that’s useless,”
Jeongguk leans against the side of the couch, the look on his face thoughtful, “Huh, he has a point. I think we have to change it,”
“That’s dumb,” Taehyung leans into Jeongguk’s touch, the furrow in his brows slowly being eased away as Jeongguk combs his fingers through his hair.
Hoseok leans back against the couch, though he shares an exasperated look with Namjoon, and says, “Whatever, Tae. You can stay on mine,”
He brightens up considerably at that, and behind them, Namjoon groans again.
“Worst case scenario, something happens, who’s the hospital going to call?”
“Who the fuck knows,” Hoseok waves a hand dismissively in the air. “If it happens, it happens,”
“Fine,” and it’s a stupid argument, one that they’re not even supposed to be having, because they’re goddamn paramedics, god, but here they are. All four of them, squabbling over their emergency contacts.
Hoseok throws a chip at Namjoon, hitting him on the nose. Who retaliates by throwing an empty can of soda at him - one that Jeongguk catches with the back of his head, because apparently, there’s no man with a worst aim than Kim Namjoon, even when the target is literally a foot away.
And so it comes, and so it goes, the day as quickly as it had started, with the four of them stuck in the station, barely any calls. It’s always a good day when they’re not running around like crazy, bogged down by the stress and the workload of twelve hours of duty. It’s a good day when they haven’t got anybody dying in their ambulances.
“Good morning, boys,”
A familiar old man opens the door for them as soon as they finish knocking. He smiles at them like nothing is wrong. Like he hasn’t just called for emergency services stating that it’s dire he get an ambulance, stat.
Hoseok looks around the all too familiar room - from the entry way to the upholstery and the drapes. He looks at Namjoon beside him who simply shrugs his shoulders and leads the way inside, following quietly behind the old man.
“What do we have for today?” Namjoon asks, a simpering little smile on his face. He’s running on four hours of sleep, tops, and not to mention the infinite amount of paper work he’s fallen behind on. “Did you fall?”
Not from the way he walks he didn’t, Hoseok thinks.
He looks perfectly fine. Walks perfectly fine. Doesn’t look like he’s in too much pain, either.
“Oh, it’s a terrible headache,” he says, looking up at the both of them, frowning a little bit. Like that’s supposed to garner him compassion from two very tired paramedics.
Hoseok is already holding onto his pad, other hand patting around his pockets for a pen. There had been at least three pens on his person the last time he’d checked - at least two hours ago - and now he’s left with nothing.
Being out with Namjoon does this to him - makes him a complete and utter mess, always so reckless even with the simplest of tasks, like, say, vitals that he most of the time takes sloppily whenever Namjoon’s around.
(And he chalks it up to Namjoon being overbearing all the goddamn time but maybe it’s just the seniority between them, or. Or it could be that one of them has to at least keep it together, and trying so hard not to mess up gets the worst out of Hoseok, so.).
“I probably just need a quick trip to the E.R,”
The both of them sigh at the same time, Namjoon shaking his head with far less amusement than his smile indicates.
Hoseok smiles at the old man, anyway, because he’s never been known to be foul in the middle of duty, and offers his arm for him to take, “Not good. Well, let’s go, then,”
Namjoon snickers behind him and Hoseok just rolls his eyes as he leads the way out and into the ambulance, Namjoon hopping into the driver’s seat right after he swings the heavy doors of the rig close.
Hoseok gets started on the vitals quickly, making small talk along the way to the nearest hospital. He really doesn’t have to, he knows this old man. Knows that he calls emergency services for everything just because he can - and it’s a free ride, god. Hoseok has to give it to these old people, really.
“He’s the fourth this week,” Namjoon says as soon as they’re back at the station.
“What happened?” Seokjin chimes from his side of the table through a mouthful of sandwich.
Hoseok has to blink a couple of times at Seokjin before it registers that it’s one of those days again. He hardly ever sees Seokjin in midday like this, but it’s a pleasant surprise nonetheless.
“Frequent flyer,” Hoseok chuckles, pulling up a chair. Namjoon patters about in the kitchen now, probably to pour himself his twelfth cup of tea for the day.
“It’s an easy pass at the emergency room,” Seokjin nods, finally putting the sandwich down. He looks over his shoulder at Namjoon, who, against all their better judgement and hopes, seems to be involved in a conversation with himself (he needs more sleep, Hoseok thinks, but at the same time - probably more caffeine and a shot of Red Bull.).
“He’s slowly losing it,” Taehyung stage whispers, crashing right into Hoseok’s side.
“He’s lost it a long time ago,” Seokjin laughs this time, shaking his head. “But he’s a good paramedic. Really talented,”
“Shame he’s crazy, though,” Taehyung ducks away from sight when Namjoon turns to look at the three of them, glaring.
It’s a rare occasion for any of their shifts to align like this. Seokjin and his team starting their twelve hour shift while Hoseok and the rest are dragged in the fiery pits of hell, a fonder term for the dreaded twenty-four hour shift.
To say that he’d dragged his sorry excuse for a carcass into the station right after a repeated frequent flier call is an understatement, because Hoseok can’t even feel his feet at this point.
He throws himself on the couch, arms raised in surrender, and groans, “If all he wants are narcotics, then I’ll fucking give it to him. All the opiates he needs if it means he’ll stop calling,”
“Rough day?” Yoongi asks, plopping down beside him. He looks well rested for once. The circles under his eyes not as prominent. Yoongi looks - well, more relieved, is what. And happy, too.
Hoseok likes to think that he looks halfway decent or even just presentable, but sadly, he’s been running on no sleep at all for the last fourteen hours, so he doubts he’s anywhere near human.
“Fucking terrible,” Hoseok whines, leaning against Yoongi.
It’s new, this development - the sudden closeness, how Hoseok can just casually lean against Yoongi like this. It started with breakfast - or, it started with a reassuring smile at three in the morning, Yoongi telling him that it’s okay, he needs his rest.
That sort of thing changes people.
Yoongi laughs quietly beside him, and god, that’s such a nice sound, Yoongi’s laughter. So fucking refreshing, Hoseok wants to hear more of it (a laugh as lovely as that has to be heard, over and over again, and Hoseok - well, Hoseok doesn’t mind wanting to make Yoongi laugh. It’s a small price after a gruelling hour after hour of never ending calls.).
“There, there,” Yoongi coos, patting despondently on Hoseok’s knee. He lets his hand linger for a second longer than necessary that when he finally pulls his hand away, Hoseok is sort of sorry for the loss. “You’re almost done,”
If it were anybody else besides Yoongi, then Hoseok would have already elbowed them in the stomach, but as it is, Hoseok’s only permitted to groan and whine twice as much.
It’s not like Yoongi hasn’t had his fair share of whining and crying, especially in this profession, so.
So Hoseok leans against him, finally quiet, and Yoongi lets him, because there’s nothing better for them to do but stare at the television, the remote dangling from Yoongi’s hand, no intention of changing the stupid show for something else better.
“We should go eat,” Yoongi says in a murmur, voice so low Hoseok isn’t even sure he’d heard him right, but.
But Yoongi repeats it, chancing a glance at Hoseok, who blinks up at him, a little bit too weary already for someone who’s been on his feet for more than fourteen hours - and still has an agonising ten left.
“Is it going to be dinner or breakfast?” Hoseok yawns into the back of his hand, pushing off of Yoongi to look at him better. He catches the change on his face, the transition of the slight quirking of his lips into a smile.
It’s - well, it’s nice, Hoseok will give him that.
(It’s more than nice, it’s as wonderful as his laugh, which is fucking lovely, and Hoseok really only has his lucky stars to thank for Taehyung being busy somewhere else in the station, because god forbid anybody see Hoseok like this - blush creeping up from the base of his neck to the tips of his ears. It’s embarrassing, and Taehyung would be the last person to let him get away with it. Christ.)
Yoongi finally changes channel, and it takes a lot of bickering from the guys in the back - Jimin wanting to watch a rerun of Law and Order while Seokjin insists on Grey’s Anatomy - but they settle on the latter, because there’s nothing Seokjin says that they don’t listen to.
(Probably the reason why Namjoon always finds himself in trouble, but that’s Namjoon, and he’s hardly known to listen to anybody.)
“Whatever you want,” Yoongi says, that same curious little smile on his face.
“I want a five-course meal at a six star restaurant,” Hoseok chides, practically leaning into Yoongi’s space, and.
And god, they’re so close, but - but there’s distance, always a distance between them.
Yoongi blinks at him, brows furrowing, and mumbles, “I don’t think a six star restaurant is a thing,”
Hoseok concedes the fight with a short bark of laughter. Six star restaurants may not be a thing but apparently, breakfast with Yoongi is. Hoseok will take breakfast with Yoongi in whatever hole in the wall they can find, six star or not.
They end up having breakfast.
Hoseok manages to convince Yoongi to slip into an unassuming diner just a couple of blocks away from the station. It’s bustling at seven in the morning on a Wednesday and Hoseok loves it.
“This looks dingy,” Yoongi comments, looking around the area.
It’s not much, Hoseok will admit, but it’s cosy. The servers are nice and the cook knows just how Hoseok likes his toast and eggs. Cooks them to perfection.
“But it’s got that cosy feel to it,” Yoongi adds, surprising Hoseok.
He smiles at him, more tired than ever.
Hoseok can’t help but smile back. There’s something about Yoongi that Hoseok can’t quite put his finger on - he’s got a certain energy around him even if he does look like he’s about to pass out any second from now.
He’s a talented paramedic and actually quite funny, too. (Well, once you get past the snark and the snide, anyway.).
Breakfast is spent trading random questions and stupid answers, Yoongi almost choking on a piece of toast after a crass comment from Hoseok.
Hoseok reaches a hand towards Yoongi - to do what, he has no idea, but he figures if Yoongi’s actually choking, he’ll find a way to help. He’s a paramedic, isn’t he? - and says with the straightest face he can muster, “Don’t worry, sir. I’m a paramedic, I can help,”
And if Yoongi had been drinking anything then he would have spit it all out, so thank god for that. Instead, he just shakes his head and gives up on the second half of the toast by tossing it to Hoseok’s plate.
“You’re fucking terrible,” Yoongi coughs out, finally calming down from his little choking fit. “What kind of paramedic just looks while a person chokes?”
Hoseok shrugs, “The only one you’ve got. And besides, you didn’t actually choke,”
Yoongi looks at him for a stunned few seconds and shakes his head, his smile hidden when he ducks his gaze away from Hoseok.
“Could’ve choked to death in the middle of a date,”
It must be the sun that shines through the badly tinted windows and hits the back of Yoongi’s chair, showering Yoongi’s face in a warm orange glow. Or it must be the fact that Hoseok’s been up on his feet for a good day with barely any sleep the few days before that. Or -
Or it could be the fact that Yoongi’s suddenly blushing, cheeks pink, and the smile on his face gone as soon as he realises the actual weight of his words.
Hoseok looks at him, hand twitching at his side.
Yoongi had just called this a date.
Who else but Yoongi would want to go out on a date at seven in the morning after a terrible shift?
Hoseok, because here he is.
And there Yoongi is, sat across from him, blushing from the tips of his ears and looking like he might have just said the most regretful words, ever. Looking like he might just choke again.
Like the idiot he is, Hoseok says, voice awfully quiet, “This is a date?”
“No,” Yoongi says, almost as soon as Hoseok had asked the question. “I mean, yeah - I don’t know, Hoseok. Whatever you want it to be,”
That waitress needs to come back with a pitcher of water or else they’re both not going to survive this morning without choking to death.
Hoseok barely manages a nod, “Erm,”
He might not be the best at words (“We all can’t be like you, Namjoon,” Seokjin had said that one night at a drunk Namjoon, nearly passed out against a lamp post but still managing to recite poetry at the top of his head.), but Hoseok tries. He really does, so.
So he smiles, a little bit shakily, but it’s a smile, and says, “It’s a date,”
Yoongi’s smile is akin to the sun slowly breaking out across the sky early in the morning, eyes alight with amusement and - and something else. There’s something else in the way Yoongi looks at him.
Something else in the way Hoseok looks at Yoongi, too.
“Good,” Yoongi murmurs, breaking out into a full smile (There it is, Hoseok thinks, a smile so pleasant it may just push him into another twelve hour shift with no sleep at all.) “If there’s ever a second one, I promise to be fully awake and rested,”
Hoseok brandishes his fork like one would a sword, positively beaming when he says, “There better be a second one.”
Taehyung is the first one to know because there’s nothing Hoseok keeps from Taehyung, even if he tries. The boy is just too fucking nosy for his own good.
Hoseok wonders how Jeongguk can even get away with anything around Taehyung (the answer: he doesn’t).
“So,” Taehyung is practically sat on top of a kitchen counter, a bowl of popcorn on his lap. “Did you finally go on a date with Yoongi hyung?”
“Why do you insist on asking questions you already have answers to?” Hoseok picks his way around Taehyung’s kitchen, opening up cabinets and drawers, trying to find at least one thing that’s edible and not way past its expiration date. “Really, Tae,”
Taehyung laughs, loud and barking, and throws a few pieces of popcorn at Hoseok’s head. “Because I want to see the look on your face. By the way, there’s more popcorn in the top cabinet,”
Hoseok wants to ask if this household has anything else to eat but popcorn, but he’s pretty sure there isn’t. How Jeongguk survives is beyond him - this must be why he’s unhinged. That, or Jeongguk’s just learning too much from Namjoon. Either way, it’s no good.
“Do you have actual food?” Hoseok kicks the fridge to a close and turns back to Taehyung who shrugs at him, although he does mention a box of cereal somewhere around him. Under the bed or in the last cabinet. He doesn’t remember - and Hoseok doesn’t want any of it, either, not when its very whereabouts are dubious.
“We can order takeout,” Taehyung hums, setting aside the bowl of popcorn.
Hoseok finally stops his fidgeting in the kitchen to lean against the couch, directly in front of Taehyung.
“So,” Taehyung says, grin slowly spreading across his face. “Do you wanna know how I know?”
“Because you’re a perv who has no idea what personal space and privacy is?”
“You didn’t have to be so harsh,” He doesn’t look too hurt, though, and with a pout that quickly turns back into a grin, he adds, “Jeongguk saw you at the diner,”
“Let me reiterate,” Hoseok says, looking up at Taehyung. “You and Jeongguk have no idea what personal space and privacy is. You’re a match made in heaven,”
Taehyung doesn’t find too much insult in that, easily glossing over Hoseok’s retaliation with a wave of his hand and a snicker. “We’re perfect for each other, thanks,”
Perfectly disgusting, Hoseok wants to say - because they are. If it isn’t for a life and death situation, then there’s no way they’d be separated. Practically sitting on top of each other every goddamn second. They’re both terrible and actually pretty damn adorable, although Hoseok would never admit that second part out loud.
Nope, no thank you.
There are times when duty calls for you to be more, well, reasonable. Looking at the current situation at hand, though, Hoseok has no other choice but to throw his hands in the air and groan out his frustration, because there is no way in hell it’s possible for them to get the patient down from the eleventh floor of this apartment complex. Without an elevator.
Taehyung rubs his hands together, a determined look in his eyes as he readies himself for the run up to the patient’s apartment.
Hoseok holds tightly on the rail, nods, and because they’ve done this one too many times, announces that whoever is last has to bring the other breakfast for their next five shifts, no exceptions.
They both manage to keep up a steady pace, Hoseok resisting the urge to pull on Taehyung’s ankle and drag him back down the stairs, and Taehyung dropping the idea that he’ll get there first if he trips Hoseok up.
“Holy shit,” Hoseok wheezes, hands on his knees and breathing heavy.
Behind him, Taehyung slumps against the wall, but it’s only for a second, because then they’re back to work, quickly making their way to the correct apartment and after a pause too long with no reply from the other side, Taehyung kicks the door open.
Hoseok shoulders past him into the apartment and spots the middled aged woman slumped against the kitchen wall, hand twitching at her side.
“I got this,” Taehyung crosses the short distance in long strides and bends down quickly to scoop the woman up in his arms.
“You sure?” Hoseok throws a quick glance around the room, looking for any other indication for her current predicament, but nothing. The only thing they’d managed to get from the dispatcher was that she’d phoned in short of breath. The line had cut off before the dispatcher could ask any other question.
Taehyung is already at the top of the stairs. He breathes in deep and nods, the traces of their playing around earlier completely gone, now. “Yeah,”
Hoseok knows not to question that, and while Taehyung does owe him breakfast for their next five shifts, Hoseok owes Taehyung this - he trusts the boy. Those long legs of his will get them out of this apartment as quickly as they’d ran up those stairs (probably not as quickly, but quick enough, anyway).
At the end of the day, there are questions Hoseok will probably never find answers to, such as how the fuck they’d managed to successfully get the woman to the hospital. How they’d managed to get her out of that building passed out. Eleven floors with no working elevator.
By the time they get back to the station, they’re both spent, Taehyung groaning about sore arms and legs the entire ride back home.
“You owe me breakfast,” Hoseok says, plopping onto the couch.
Taehyung doesn’t make it to the couch. He throws himself at a chair Namjoon frequents (and had Taehyung looked less like he had just gone through hell, then Namjoon would have definitely made a show of kicking him out of his chair. The nerve, really.).
“Who owes you breakfast?” Hoseok hears from somewhere behind him.
Yoongi steps out of the kitchen with a bag of chips in one hand. “By the way, you two look like you’re about ready to pass out,”
Words said too late to Taehyung, who’s already asleep, and god, now that he is, Hoseok’s starting to notice just how pale he’d gotten. The starkness of his veins against his skin.
“Taehyung, but more on that later. Y’know what should be illegal?” Hoseok snatches the bag of chips out of Yoongi’s hand as soon as Yoongi sits down beside him. “Buildings with more than five floors without an elevator,”
“Oh,” Yoongi muses, trying to get his chips back. He fails, miserably, because now that Hoseok’s off duty, he’s starting to realise just how many meals he’d missed. One too many. “Those are mine,”
Hoseok gives it back to him, bag empty save for the crumbs. Yoongi blinks at the empty bag and then looks back up at Hoseok, brows furrowed.
“You’re terrible,” Yoongi crumples the bag in his hand and tosses it to the messy coffee table they’ve got smack dab in the middle of the station. It looks so out of place, but then again, most of them do, so.
“I’m tired and hungry. When’s that next date going to be, by the way?” It’s fatigue and lack of sleep that pushes the words out of his mouth, because how else would Hoseok explain it, really? Just a month ago he would have stammered out his greeting at Yoongi. Now, now things are different, if only slightly.
If only for the best.
“What next date?” Really, trust the small station to offer them no amount of privacy at all. Namjoon pokes his head into the conversation, already snickering. “The two of you?”
Namjoon almost drops his cup of tea (how is he surviving off of tea? These weird fucking health fads he’s always on, Hoseok swears.) as he stares at the both of them in amusement. A look quickly clouded with dawning realisation that no, neither of them had been joking.
“No way,” Namjoon murmurs, looking quite comical as he darts a glance at Yoongi, and then at Hoseok. “How did that happen,”
“Good question,” Hoseok yawns, scooting over to the other side of the couch until he’s pressed against Yoongi, shoulder to shoulder. That’s nice, their proximity. Warm, too. Yoongi’s nice. And warm. Hoseok wonders what it would be like to actually hold his hand. Or maybe - maybe something else, but thoughts like that aren’t thoughts he should be having in the middle of the goddamn station, for all to witness.
“Who knows,” Yoongi doesn’t even bother with an explanation, instead, he just throws an arm around Hoseok, casual. Normal. Pulls him close against him, fingers pressing against the side of his arm for a second, trying to get a good grip.
Hoseok doesn’t have to be persuaded more than that. He melts right into the touch with a soft sigh of relief, “If I fall asleep,”
“If you fall asleep,” Yoongi says, a weird little smile on his face. “But you’re not, because you have an actual bed that’s better than this sad excuse for a couch,”
Namjoon makes a face at the both of them, “That’s it. Shift’s over. I’m out, I’m done. Today has been weird enough,”
Hoseok doesn’t pay him much mind. Knowing Namjoon, he’d forget by their next shift and be just as shocked to find the both of them cosy on the couch. Knowing Namjoon.
“Good idea,” Hoseok yawns, pushing himself off of the couch with much difficulty. Yoongi looks far too inviting sitting there, his hold around Hoseok loose and comfortable enough.
Yoongi follows him to the station’s double doors, hand going to his pager when he hears a tone crackle out of it - false alarm, it’s followed by complete silence after. “I’ll call you,”
Hoseok smiles at him. It’s a tired smile, but it’s bright enough, for now. “Sure,”
There’s a few seconds of silence between them, the air suddenly turning thick. Hoseok notices just how close they are like this, how easily it would be to lean in and -
He shakes the thought out of his head (but how has it taken him this long to realise he might just really, really want to know what kissing Yoongi would feel like? Like, wants to know in the next five seconds.).
That weird little smile is back on Yoongi’s face, and it’s weird, is what it is. He can’t read it. Can’t quite place his finger on what it means. What Yoongi’s not saying.
Hoseok tries not to think too much of it. He’s already treading murky waters. This can wait, he thinks. There’s going to be a second time. A second date. Hoseok is giddy just thinking about it, and he can really only hope at this point that he doesn’t come off as psychotic or, like, just the least bit crazy looking, anyway.
“I’ll see you later?” It’s a question more than an actual goodbye, and Hoseok catches himself staring again. It’s a bad habit, something his mother had always told him to stop because it’s not very nice, Hoseok.
Hoseok takes a deep breath and steps away, because there’s really only so much he can do - aside from maybe wanting to grab Yoongi by the collar of his uniform, which is actually a pretty good idea.
And so Hoseok does just that, fingers curling at the collar of Yoongi’s shirt, tugging him towards him until there’s hardly any space left. Until there’s only a breath between them. Until - until they’re kissing, soft and chaste, a careful and quick pressing of their lips that’s over all too soon, Hoseok pulling away quickly.
His face is on fire and his smile might be too large, but he figures he probably doesn’t look that crazy, not when Yoongi’s the same, cheeks pink, and the look on his face surprised, but - but pleasantly so.
The best kind of surprise, Hoseok thinks.
“Later,” Hoseok grins at him, raising his hand in a lame attempt at a wave. He backs out of the station, only tearing his gaze off of Yoongi when Yoongi tells him to look at where the fuck he’s going, because there’s no way any of them are up to the task of responding to a paramedic being run over by a car just because he’d stared too long at somebody.
Besides, the thought of kissing Yoongi - of having kissed Yoongi, if even for a few short seconds - is the only thing that keeps Hoseok awake enough for the short drive back home.
The first thing Hoseok does as soon as he kicks his shoes off and slam his door close is collapse on his bed, a heap of tired bones and weary breaths. Time is lost on him, the only thing he knows at this point is that he’s got three full days of rest ahead of him. Three actual days where all he’s allowed to do is roll around in bed and sleep.
Sleep is a relief that comes quickly enough, Hoseok instantly sinking into sleep, buried in a thick duvet and fluffy pillows that threaten to drown him. It’s a death he actually won’t mind, suffocation via pillows and the most comfortable blanket.
Thank god for the invention of black-out curtains, too, because there’s no way Hoseok would have managed to fall asleep so early with the afternoon light filtering through a weak excuse of a set of curtains. No way.
It’s late into the evening already when he wakes up next, head groggy, and his eyes still heavy with sleep. He hears the sound of the doorbell, followed quickly by a few short raps at the door. When Hoseok doesn’t budge - because who would be coming into his apartment unannounced, the nerve? - his phone starts to buzz with a call, Yoongi’s name flashing at the very top.
That does the trick of waking him up. No cold water splashed on his face. No tones dropping at ungodly hours of the morning. Who knew the only thing that could wake Hoseok up as quickly as he’d fallen asleep was a call from Min Yoongi?
He trips on his way to the door, cursing under his breath as he finally wraps a hand around the door knob.
Yoongi stands in front of him, sheepish. He’s still got his boots on. The rest of his uniform, too, now that Hoseok’s eyes adjust to the dimly lit room.
“Hi,” Yoongi says, taking a few careful steps inside when Hoseok moves around to give him room. “Did I wake you up?”
It’s so weird, seeing Yoongi in his apartment. Seeing Yoongi here, outside of the station, stripped down of his responsibilities and looking like he might just pass out here on Hoseok’s doorstep.
“No,” Hoseok lies through his teeth. He’s pretty bad at it, evident in the way he can’t stop himself from grinning, caught in the middle of his lie.
“Is this a bad time?” Yoongi asks, voice suddenly quiet. Dropping much lower than normal, because now the front door is close and the evening cloaks around the both of them, sleep finally seeming like a luxury they can finally afford.
Hoseok shakes his head, his smile softening, now. He reaches for Yoongi’s hand in the darkness, finds it with a little bit of fumbling around. Twines their fingers together, Yoongi’s hold around his tightening. Warm, secure.
“We’re going to sleep, Yoongi,” Hoseok says, failing to stifle a yawn as he drags Yoongi behind him, carefully manoeuvring around his messy apartment.
Yoongi hums quietly behind him, the tone soft. Nice. Like there’s nothing else he could be doing. Nothing else he’d rather want to do than sleep.
After two days straight of twelve hour shifts, Hoseok suspects that sleep is probably the first thing on any paramedic’s mind.
They stumble into the bed, Hoseok shuffling to the other side to give more room for Yoongi, who instantly makes himself cosy, dragging most of the covers to his side and leaving very little for Hoseok.
“You can’t do this to me,” Hoseok whines, tugging weakly at the blanket.
Yoongi laughs, the sound surprising in the stillness of the night. It sparks up something inside of Hoseok, like a candle that’s finally lit, its orange glow warm.
“Come here,” Yoongi murmurs, voice so close to Hoseok’s ear. He slips an arm around Hoseok’s shoulder, brings him closer against him, and Hoseok lets him, because there’s nowhere else he’d rather be, really.
And also because this is very comfortable, Yoongi’s sharp bones and skinny little hip aside.
Hoseok throws an arm around Yoongi’s middle, head rested just on the crook of Yoongi’s neck. It’s a good spot, Hoseok thinks. It’s the perfect spot, a little voice in his mind amends. Fits just right for him. In the crooked sides and the sharp angles, Hoseok finds that he and Yoongi - surprisingly, or maybe not, at this point - they fit.
“G’night, Hoseok,” Yoongi murmurs the words against Hoseok’s forehead, lips brushing lightly across his skin.
Hoseok doesn’t even have time to utter out his own good night, his own vision tunnelling, sleep taking him as soon as Yoongi’s hold around him had tightened just enough, leaving barely any space between them.
It’s not so bad, sleeping beside someone else. Hoseok doesn’t mind it one bit.
It’s not even morning when they hear the familiar tones of their radio drop, Yoongi pushing himself up to start groping around for his radio.
Three in the morning.
“Is it mine or yours?” Hoseok groans, already feeling the sense of urgency rushing through his veins. This isn’t out of their normal, tones dropping in the middle of the night right after their shift. There’s about a dozen different reasons for why, and maybe once Hoseok’s managed to stuff himself with an unhealthy amount of caffeine, he can list them all, but for now, he’ll stick to the crazy idea that maybe Seokjin has something against him. Maybe.
“Mine,” Yoongi says, voice heavy with sleep. “I have to go,”
Hoseok watches as Yoongi stretches at the side of the bed, trying to keep himself awake. Trying and failing, because he keeps yawning every other second, eyes tearing up at the frequency already.
“Have fun,” At least Hoseok manages to roll out of the bed, if only to walk Yoongi to the door. To watch him shuffle back into his shoes and tidy up his already crumpled uniform.
“This wasn’t a bad idea,” Yoongi says, lingering by the door. Hoseok catches an almost wistful look in his eyes. But - but this is their job, and Hoseok would be the last person to drag Yoongi back to bed and tell him someone else would answer that call.
“Next time,” Hoseok smiles, reaching out to pat out the wrinkles on Yoongi’s shirt, smoothing them over with his hands, and tugging the collar back in place.
Yoongi leans closer to him then and catches his mouth in a quick kiss. Less of an actual kiss now than just the brushing of their lips. But, it’s nice. It’s always nice, being so close to Yoongi. Feeling him against him, warm. Cosy.
Hoseok smiles against Yoongi’s mouth and with the last bit of strength he has, pushes him away.
“Go before I tell Seokjin hyung you’re out on your own personal emergency.”
And it might be three in the morning, the rest of Hoseok’s neighbours asleep. The sun barely awake himself, but. But Yoongi laughs, loud and bright enough for the entire room to be flooded with warmth that seeps right through Hoseok’s skin and settles into the cracks of his bones.
Yoongi doesn’t need anymore persuading and with one last final look at Hoseok over his shoulder, he ducks away, the door closing quietly behind him.
Their second date doesn’t really come as a second date. Hoseok isn’t even sure if they’ve passed the second date or if they’re still stuck on that because things just - they just happen. And Hoseok can be asked that same exact question a hundred different times and the only thing he’ll have to say about it is that sometimes, things just happen. You just have to let time run its course.
Which is why, when Yoongi ducks down and kisses Hoseok at the corner of his mouth right in the middle of breakfast - their self constructed breakfast, anyway. Jeongguk’s box of bagels and Taehyung’s terrible coffee brewing skills - nobody bats an eye. They’ve long since passed that (and it had only really been Namjoon who’d caught himself choking at the prospect of the two of them dating. Only Namjoon.).
It comes naturally, this progression. How certain events that have triggered it have led them here - hand in hand and laughing as they duck out of the station for a quick chat outside, away from preying ears and eyes that are always on the look out.
It’s not that they’ve got nosy friends - they’re good people, Hoseok will swear on that - but sometimes, when your career is built around saving people you don’t even know, you tend to appreciate the tiny spaces of privacy in between.
Yoongi pushes him up against the wall, arm around his waist, fingers digging gently into his hip, and kisses him, slow and tentative.
They haven’t really gotten past that, either. Kissing. Because all they seem to do is kiss - from the smallest, quickest of kisses to the longer and more lingering kisses that has Hoseok feeling like he’s taken one too many pain relievers. (That, or like he’s walking on clouds. Either way, both work.)
“Hey, I’m off until Monday,” Yoongi says, drawing away from him. The way Yoongi sometimes looks at him has Hoseok feeling a little bit lost. Sometimes, it’s gone after a second. Other times, Yoongi will preen at him, trying to search for something.
“Good, I’ve got one last half day shift tomorrow and I’m off until Tuesday,”
It’s not always a bad thing, their hours. Except, of course, when they’re slammed with three twelve-hour shifts back to back.
They don’t make actual plans. No dates to be set up - so far, they’ve gotten by with dragging the other away right after a shift. Their schedules line up magically like that, sometimes.
Before they walk back into the station, though, Yoongi tugs on Hoseok’s hand again. Shuffles around in his spot, like he’s debating on something. Chews on his bottom lip, trying to contemplate his next few words.
Hoseok waits with a quirked eyebrow and a half-smile.
“Here,” Yoongi murmurs, rummaging around in his pocket. He finally pulls his hand out, brandishing a lone silver key. “This is a key. A key to my apartment,”
Hoseok stares at it for a good few seconds, unable to process the whole thing. It’s crazy, Yoongi giving him a spare key when they’ve only been going out a few months. (And Hoseok’s not even sure when it had started, or how, or for how long it’s dragged on already, but. But he doesn’t quite mind, this. This new step onto a new and winding path, one they take together, hands held between them.)
“I’m always out whenever you drop by, anyway,” Yoongi is mumbling, the words tripping over one another. He’s blushing, too, cheeks pink, and refusing to look Hoseok directly in the eye.
Hoseok can’t help but laugh. And it’s not exactly a laugh. More like a release of breath that ends with a short chuckle. Surprised. Completely caught off guard. Hoseok’s afraid his heart might just stop beating, with the rate its going right now.
Might need to do an EKG later, if it comes to that. But there are some things - some things that need not be overthought. Some things that can just be taken as is.
Because that’s how it happens, how it progresses. By letting it be.
“Oh,” Hoseok knows he sounds stupid. Probably looks like a right idiot, too, and it’s all Yoongi needs to snap out of it, to see Hoseok equally as baffled as him. Abashed, maybe. Hoseok closes his fingers around the key, feels the cold steel of it bite at his skin. He looks at Yoongi and he smiles, because it’s really the only response he can give, after this.
A smile that breaks across his face slowly.
Like someone testing the waters out before they run right into the ocean.
“Didn’t you wait twenty minutes outside the last time?” Yoongi says, mouth quirking into a little smirk. He reaches for Hoseok’s hand again - the one with the key - and locks his fingers around Hoseok’s wrist, giving it a playful tug. “Come on, Hoseok,”
Hoseok’s hand tightens around the key, his smile much brighter now. Wider. Eyes alight with a different kind of happiness - something more tender. Precious, even.
And he can feel it in the pit of his stomach. At a distant corner in his heart, the trickling of something - of something like fond.
“What if you mistake me for a burglar?” Hoseok asks, and if his voice breaks in the middle of that question, Yoongi either doesn’t pick up on it or he doesn’t mention it. “And you call the cops?”
Yoongi rolls his eyes, bumps their shoulders playfully, and scoffs, “Right, because a burglar would have a key to my apartment,”
“Good reasoning, that,” It’s lame, Hoseok knows. But he knows no other way - can’t really shake it off, Yoongi giving him an actual key to his apartment. It’s a fucking key. To his apartment. Into his home.
Hoseok slips the key into his back pocket and tangles his fingers with Yoongi when the boy reaches for his, and as they walk back into the station, there’s a bounce in Hoseok’s step, his face considerably brighter, now.
The first time Hoseok actually uses the key, it’s right after he’d managed to change at home. And shower. Because the last time he’d looked at his reflection after work, he’d noticed a few stains. Either blood or something else - and being in their line of work, something else would be just as bad as a few blood stains.
It’s not even that late yet. A little after seven. Hoseok debates ringing the doorbell and knocking. Debates knocking and actually using his key. A key that he holds tightly in his fist, the jagged edges of it sinking into his skin.
This shouldn’t even be such a big deal, using a key.
It takes him another minute of pacing around Yoongi’s front door (another minute more and he’s pretty sure Yoongi’s neighbours would have called security already) until he finally decides to put the key in and jiggle the door knob open.
Stepping into Yoongi’s apartment, Hoseok notes just how - well, how different it is without Yoongi guiding him inside. He shuffles out of his trainers and quietly makes his way to the bedroom, the door left slightly ajar.
Yoongi’s already asleep, curled under the thick duvet, hair fanning against the pillow, and hands clenched into little fists.
And while it had taken Hoseok a century and a half to open the door with the key Yoongi had given him, it takes him a considerably shorter time to crawl into the bed with Yoongi, the bed dipping at his added weight.
“Hoseok,” Yoongi murmurs, half asleep. He turns around, instinctively reaching a hand out under the covers to look for Hoseok.
“No, I’m here to rob you,” Hoseok says, voice light with amusement. He drags Yoongi closer, hand hooking around his waist, and blunt nails lightly scraping against the exposed skin of his hip.
Yoongi is soft and pliant, half asleep like this.
“Sure you are, babe,” Yoongi murmurs, choosing to humour Hoseok like this. He presses a light kiss on the base of Hoseok’s neck - the only thing he really has access to like this - and tries to move his way up, but fails when sleep tries to pull him under again. “I’m really glad you’re here, though,”
Maybe sleep deprived Yoongi isn’t so bad - sleep deprived and overworked Yoongi, anyway. He mumbles a lot more, his words incoherent sometimes, but it’s kind of - and Hoseok might not have the courage to utter it in public, especially with Yoongi looking at him - cute, really. Cute, that’s what it is. That’s what Yoongi is.
Really fucking cute.
Hoseok cards his fingers through Yoongi’s hair, smoothing over the tangles. Brushes his hair until Yoongi’s breath slows, his hold around Hoseok heavy, now. He’s asleep, Hoseok can tell. It really doesn’t take Yoongi that long to fall asleep - any good surface in the station and just the right amount of time and he’s out like a light. It’s no surprise that he falls asleep as easily in his own home as he does at the workplace.
There’s a lot about Yoongi that comes as a surprise to Hoseok - and then a couple more things that doesn’t.
Hoseok’s reply might be a few beats too late, Yoongi already asleep in his arms, but he says it, anyway. When he traces a finger down the side of Yoongi’s cheek, soft and careful so as not to wake him up, Hoseok murmurs, lips featherlight against Yoongi’s forehead, “I’m here.” the quiet if you’ll have me stuck in his throat.
The evening comes, and the evening goes, and soon morning is upon them, filtering through Yoongi’s not black-out-enough curtains. Flimsy little excuses for curtains that no human being should be subjected to.
It crosses Hoseok’s mind then that this is the first time he’s spent the entire night at Yoongi’s.
They’ve fallen asleep together before, sure. But something else would always come up right before daybreak. A tone dropping. Hoseok needing to get home. Yoongi forgetting that he has to go in to work early because he’d slacked on his paperwork, again.
Hoseok wakes up first, stirring quietly beside Yoongi. He tries not to think of how fucking weird it is to stare at someone as they sleep - because it’s definitely not weird. He’s just admiring how calm and peaceful Yoongi looks like this, asleep. No furrow in his brow. No frown. No grimace. Nothing. He simply looks - well, rested, is what.
A quick glance at the bedside clock tells Hoseok that it’s a few minutes past seven. His internal clock is set to waking up too fucking early, even during his day offs. It’s not that bad, he thinks - at least he’ll always have time for breakfast and coffee. Two things that are sounding like pretty good ideas, given that Yoongi’s still out cold.
The slightest movement Hoseok makes to get out of bed is apparently all that Yoongi needs, hand reaching out to curl at his wrist, Yoongi’s fingers circling around Hoseok’s wrist.
“Where are you going?” Yoongi asks, voice thick and heavy with sleep.
Has he been awake all this time - Hoseok doesn’t know, but he doesn’t doubt it. Yoongi might sleep at the drop of a hat, but he’s a light sleeper. As in, a simple creak of the floorboard at three in the morning will wake him up, that kind of light sleeper.
Yoongi wraps another arm around Hoseok’s middle and drags him back to the bed, where the sun’s warmed it up just the way Hoseok likes it, where Yoongi smiles into the crook of Hoseok’s neck, as warm as the sun filtering through the flimsy curtains.
“You can stay,” Yoongi murmurs against Hoseok’s skin, “Stay.”
There really was never any intention to leave. Just breakfast and coffee, but Hoseok gives Yoongi this.
He turns in the circle of Yoongi’s arms, presses closer to him, and lifts a hand up to comb through Yoongi’s hair, much the same way as he did the other night. He presses a kiss onto Yoongi’s forehead. A kiss that quickly turns into a smile when he feels the tightening of Yoongi’s hold around him.
“Okay,” Hoseok says, fingers catching at Yoongi’s hair, tugging gently at the tips enough to get Yoongi to look at him. “Whatever you want, Yoongi.”
“Whatever you want, Hoseok,” And Yoongi is smiling, the first for the day, and god - it’s as fucking radiant as the sun that hits the foot of their bed. Warm and bright, teasing, even, with the promise of more. Later, it seems to say. Later, Yoongi seems to murmur into Hoseok’s skin, teeth catching at Hoseok’s bottom lip.
Later, Hoseok thinks.
There will be so many laters. So many next times. So many tomorrows. And he doesn’t mind, not when he sees all of them with Yoongi beside him.
He doesn’t mind at all, really.
It’s as simple as that.
When Yoongi had said later, Hoseok hadn’t expected later to be an hour after they’ve both initially woken up. Definitely didn’t expect Yoongi to be on top of him, either, pressing him into the bed, fingers caught at his hair, and tugging.
It’s much harsher than when Hoseok had done it to him, but Hoseok doesn’t mind, instead, he arches into the touch, trying to catch Yoongi’s mouth, because he needs it. Needs Yoongi to kiss him, right now, or else.
Yoongi does just that. With Hoseok’s hair fisted in his hand, he leans back down to kiss him, hard and fierce, and it’s different to all the other times they’ve kissed. To the fleeting little kisses that they always exchange at the station. It’s different because it starts a fire in the pit of Hoseok’s stomach. In the back of his mind.
He’s on fire, is how he feels like.
But Yoongi is gasoline and there’s no way to put this fire out, not when they’ve started burning already.
Hoseok kisses him back with the same ferocity, hands gliding down Yoongi’s side to settle at his hips, bunching around his shirt. Off it goes, over Yoongi’s head and to the floor of the bedroom, quickly followed by Hoseok’s own.
It should be sinful, the way Yoongi moves on top of him with the purpose of wrecking Hoseok so fucking early in the morning, hand already palming at Hoseok’s erection through his shorts. And that should be illegal, too, how Hoseok is still in his shorts. How there’s still this thin piece of fabric separating them.
And it goes off, too. Shorts and pyjama pants and underwear, all left somewhere at the edge of the bed or on the floor of Yoongi’s room. For a second, all they do is stare at each other. With the pathetic curtains allowing the only source of light into the room, it’s enough. Enough for Hoseok to see how much Yoongi glows like this, how smooth his skin is - and he can attest to that, too, when he runs his hands over Yoongi’s chest and right down to his stomach, teasing.
Yoongi smiles at him, almost coyly, and Hoseok rolls his eyes, because trust Min Yoongi to try to play the coquettish card in the middle of sex, with his hand already around Hoseok’s cock, applying the gentlest of pressure.
Hoseok moans into the kiss, fingers tangling into Yoongi’s hair, and biting. Biting down onto his lower lip when Yoongi tugs at his cock, just the slightest bit. Practically gasping when Hoseok loses the feeling of Yoongi on top of him, when Yoongi kisses his way down - from the edge of Hoseok’s mouth right down to his stomach.
And god, just how quickly Yoongi can move - how the next thing Hoseok knows is the wet heat of his mouth around him, cheek hallowed as Yoongi takes him in, as deep as he can go, Hoseok’s only response are praises that tumble out of his mouth, punctuated by a groan that he thinks the neighbours might have heard through the thin walls of Yoongi’s apartment.
He’s close, really close - he can feel it, the bundle of wires in his stomach suddenly tightening, the pressure around his cock. Yoongi’s not helping at all, not with the way he moves his lips along the underside of Hoseok’s cock, hand tightening at the base, and then loosening, just enough to push Hoseok over the edge and drag him back.
“Fuck,” Embarrassing enough, it comes out as a stammer, but Hoseok doesn’t mind, not when Yoongi’s still got his mouth around his cock, determined to completely throttle Hoseok over the edge of this cliff.
Hoseok, with whatever strength he still has in him (and it astounds him, too, how he manages to do it), successfully pushes Yoongi off of him, one hand curling around Yoongi’s shoulder, and the other on Yoongi’s hand.
Yoongi’s mouth glistens with a mixture of precum and spit, the smirk on his face far too pleased for this. “What do you want to do?”
Whatever you want, Hoseok wants to say. Anything. Everything, really.
But instead, he reverses their position, pressing Yoongi into the bed, his hand brushing up against Yoongi’s erection - he earns a moan from that. And when Hoseok finally returns the favour, with a hand around Yoongi’s cock, Yoongi pulls him back down for a kiss that ends too briefly, a kiss that Yoongi drags down to the base of Hoseok’s neck. He’s sure to leave a mark there later, a bruise right on Hoseok’s collarbone.
There is enough time for them to do this the entire morning. The whole day, even. But Yoongi’s already ignited a fire, and Hoseok knows he won’t last long, not after what Yoongi had done (who knew he had a talent with his tongue, really?).
It’s a gentle process, Hoseok easing Yoongi open. First comes one finger, prodding. Careful, slow. Then comes another, slicked even more with lube they’d fumbled around for in Yoongi’s bedside cabinet. Then comes a third, until Yoongi is positively writhing underneath him, one hand around his own cock, and the other hooked around Hoseok’s neck, fingernails digging into Hoseok’s skin, sure to leave a mark there as well. Scratches, even, when Hoseok finally pulls his hand out and eases himself inside.
And it’s not the smoothest of slides, but he manages, Yoongi gasping from under him. Hoseok fucks him slowly because this is the first time, and Yoongi is still adjusting from under him.
It’s really only when Yoongi hooks a leg around Hoseok and tells him, with gritted teeth, that he can go faster, that Hoseok obliges, one hand planted on the side of the bed, and the other tangled in Yoongi’s hair, tugging just enough to bring Yoongi up for another kiss, this time filthy and without any abandon, tongues tangling. Teeth clashing.
Yoongi is panting against Hoseok’s mouth, practically begging him, now. Fingernails leave scratches on his back - it doesn’t sting for now, but it will later. Hoseok doesn’t pay it any mind, not when Yoongi is a panting, moaning mess under him, working his own cock until he’s there, so fucking close.
Hoseok’s thrusting turn erratic, his vision tunnelling, the only thing he sees now is Yoongi, hair sticking to his forehead, eyes closed, and god, he’s tight. So fucking tight, Hoseok’s afraid of hurting him the faster he goes, the harder he thrusts in. But Yoongi takes it, encourages him, asks for more, until he’s coming himself, all around his hand and on his stomach.
And he looks so beautiful like this - cheeks pink and mouth glistening, every moan out of his mouth sounding like the sweetest sin. Too fucking beautiful, always.
There’s nothing better than this, Hoseok thinks, with Yoongi spent underneath him but still urging him on, much softer now. Yoongi winds both arms around Hoseok’s neck and brings him back down for a kiss, this time slower, Yoongi’s tongue gliding through the tops of Hoseok’s teeth, tasting him. Taking him in.
“Come on, Hoseok,” Yoongi whispers against his ear, each of Hoseok’s thrusts punctuated with a moan that slips out of Yoongi’s mouth like a prayer, said again and again. “You’re doing so good,”
Hoseok bites down on Yoongi’s shoulder when he feels it - the build up. The fire finally spreading, setting everything on its path aflame. Yoongi tightens around him and Hoseok fucks Yoongi through his own orgasm, holding onto him tight because they’re too far gone, now.
Too far beyond the point of actual words.
It takes them a couple of minutes, Hoseok carefully pulling out of him to chuck the used condom into a bin. He plops back down beside Yoongi, completely spent, his breathing ragged. There’s a silent moment that passes between them, the only sound their laboured breathing.
Until Yoongi clambers on top of Hoseok again, a bright little smile on his face. “Hey, champ,”
Hoseok barks out a laugh, only shutting up when Yoongi kisses him. Yoongi pinches his cheek, too, and Hoseok can’t help but smile up at him, hands rested on either side of Yoongi’s hips, holding onto him. Holding him up like this, still so beautiful and practically glowing.
“Hey, yourself,” Hoseok smothers his laugh on the inside of Yoongi’s palm. “You okay?”
Yoongi responds with another kiss, this time at the tip of his nose, and then another at the edge of his mouth. He pulls away before Hoseok can tilt his head just the right way for the next kiss - for a third and proper kiss, that is. “Yeah,”
It’s another shift, right there.
The way Yoongi looks at him, his gaze soft. So fucking tender Hoseok can’t help but smile again, sure he looks like a fucking madman now, with the amount of smiling he’s doing. If he does, Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind - or maybe it’s because Yoongi’s smiling just as much, blissfully fucked out as Hoseok is.
“Good morning,” Hoseok closes his hand around Yoongi’s, brings it back to his mouth and kisses the balk of his palm. It’s the least he can do after all the marks he’d left on him. After all the kisses that turned bruising right in the middle of it.
Yoongi rolls off of Hoseok with a huff, though he does keep their hands joined. They’re good like this, comfortable. Together, with their hands held. The heat emanating off of them. The early morning sun filling the room with a light that if Hoseok had no idea, would have thought had come from Yoongi.
Because he’s bright, so, so bright. Glowing, even. The way he smiles pulls right at Hoseok’s heart strings. The way just the softest touch from Yoongi can set a forrest fire is both alarming and wonderful, if Hoseok were being honest.
There’s nobody else like this - nobody who looks at him the way Yoongi does. Nobody whose fingers fit the spaces between his as perfectly as Yoongi’s do. And perhaps perfect isn’t a thing. Perhaps perfect, at the end of the day, is merely relative, but.
But this, right here - this is as close to perfect as perfect will ever be. Hoseok will take it, how unexpected this all was. How beautiful this has all unfolded.
Yoongi tightens his hold around Hoseok, their palms pressed together. “Coffee run in fifteen?”
Another round of laughter, surprise colouring his tone. Of course, Yoongi would request for coffee right after the post-coital glow had faded. Of course.
Hoseok really wouldn’t have him any other way.
It’s a slow day at work when Hoseok breaks the news to Taehyung. They’re idling in the ambulance, a few blocks away from the station. Just waiting for a call, already prepared to start moving as soon as the tone drops.
They haven’t done anything the entire day except transport two elderly people to the hospital - frequent flyers, they’ve already dubbed them. Now, stuck in the ambulance with barely anything to do, Hoseok tells Taehyung, out right and to his face, that he’s recently made a few changes with his emergency contact.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Taehyung says, dropping the Rubik’s cube he’d been toying with earlier. “But I’m the best ICE, because I’m right here,”
Probably one of the problems to even choosing Taehyung as his emergency contact (and by that logic, then it’s the same problem with Jeongguk’s emergency contact being Taehyung. With Hoseok’s emergency contact being - )
“I changed it to Yoongi,” Hoseok shrugs, casual. Like he just hasn’t broken Taehyung’s heart by this ungodly revelation. “Don’t be overdramatic, Tae. You knew we’d never work out,”
Taehyung pouts at him. Actually pouts, like some poor middle-schooler who found out he couldn’t get away with what he wanted. It doesn’t work at Hoseok, not at all. “But you’re my emergency contact, hyung,”
Another shrug, Hoseok carefully bringing his cup of coffee to his lips. It’s gotten a bit cold, now, but he’ll take it. Coffee is coffee. “You’ll get over it,”
“If it makes you feel any guiltier, I won’t be changing mine. Even after this betrayal,” Taehyung makes a show of clutching at his heart and feigning a fainting spell, collapsing against his seat.
Hoseok reaches towards him, pats away the crumbs on his uniform, and then pinches his cheek, snickering. “Like I said. You’ll get over it,”
They spend the rest of the morning like that, quietly bickering to each other. Taehyung mostly agonising over two major problems of his life now - the unsolvable Rubik’s cube and Hoseok taking him out as his emergency contact.
“The fucking treachery,” Taehyung mumbles under his breath.
Hoseok merely rolls and tells him that if he doesn’t get over it in the next five seconds then he won’t even have a Rubik’s cube to cry over, because the window is open and it would be all too easy for Hoseok to snatch it out of his hands and chuck it into the grimy alleyway.
All too easy.
Taehyung shuts up after that, but Hoseok does hear him grumble about it to Jeongguk the second they’re back at the station.
Jeongguk doesn’t look too pleased, but then again, the both of them are weird enough alone, surely together they’re both devastating (devastatingly peculiar, Hoseok wants to stress).
That, and they’re adorable, too. Hoseok will give them that.
Yoongi finds out about it shortly after, what with Taehyung constantly pacing around the station, still not over the fact that Hoseok had taken him out as his emergency contact after years.
“Three years, hyung,” Taehyung declares, looking too heartbroken for such a simple little matter.
“Is there some kind of secret affair?” Yoongi asks, looking up at Hoseok. He stops by just beside him, their fingers brushing for a short second between them.
The smile on Hoseok’s face is almost automatic, whenever he sees Yoongi. Whenever Yoongi comes into the picture.
“No, Taehyung’s just being a child,” And to think people would have said the very same thing to him and Taehyung. “A drama queen,”
“What’d you do this time?” Yoongi is swiping down his phone, though he does lean slightly against Hoseok, their hips pressing together.
“Just replaced him with you as my emergency contact,” Hoseok says in one breath, voice casual. “No biggie,”
Yoongi almost drops his phone at that revelation.
“Really?” Voice quiet, low. Just the two of them talking, now.
Hoseok finds Yoongi’s hand and holds onto it, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Yeah,” Another smile, much too tender for this time in the afternoon. A smile that they trade, along with an intense look that feels too private for anybody else. They might be in the middle of the station, but for now, they’ve got this little moment for each other.
“Huh,” Yoongi slips his fingers through the spaces of Hoseok’s. “That - erm. Wow,”
“No biggie,” Hoseok hears himself say, although his voice does sound too far, like he’s simply not here. Like they both aren’t. But here they are, and here Yoongi’s hand is, tightly held in his, their palms pressed together. Warmth for warmth.
“Hoseok,” His name, softly spoken, like a prayer uttered in the stillness of the night, way past the witching hour.
Hoseok reaches towards Yoongi, hand bypassing his face - though his fingers do brush gently against his cheek - to brush a few stray hairs out of Yoongi’s face, strands of blonde hair swept out of his eyes, because Yoongi’s got really pretty eyes. Eyes that can either spell disaster or mischief - or. Or fondness, that.
“Yeah?” Hoseok says, hand stilling behind Yoongi’s head, fingers gliding through the already sleep-mussed hair. He smiles at his own handiwork, hoping to shake Yoongi out of it.
He doesn’t succeed, but at least nobody can tell him he hadn’t tried.
“You’re something else, y’know that?” Yoongi bridges the gap between them with a kiss. Right in the middle of the station, with the few remaining crew members still loitering around. With Taehyung looking over the couch at them, a funny little smile on his face (and with Jeongguk yelling at the kitchen about Taehyung finally paying up for a bet he’d won weeks ago.).
It’s a good day, Hoseok thinks.
And how can he think otherwise, with Yoongi’s lips pressed so softly against his, their hands tangled together between them. With the both of them so, so fucking close, barely a hairsbreadth away from each other.
Hoseok smiles halfway into the kiss, breaking the moment - or perhaps making more of it, because it’s always kisses like this that Hoseok finds tugs at his heart the most. Kisses that don’t end up with even more kissing because they’re both smiling too bright at each other, no other choice but to pull away or else they’ll end up knocking foreheads together as they laugh, loud and so, so beautiful, it fills the entire room with its own brand of warmth.
A special kind of light that fills Hoseok’s heart and spreads all around him.
It’s not just a candle Yoongi’s managed to light inside of him, no.
Because there are cities in Alaska that only get at least five hours of daylight in a day, and Yoongi.
Yoongi is the sunshine after nineteen hours of complete darkness, with only the ethereal glow of the moon shining down upon the icy glaze.
It’s the longest night Hoseok’s ever known, but it’s worth it - nineteen hours of pure darkness only to be interrupted by the warmth and brightness of Yoongi’s smile, how fucking wonderful that is, how beautiful. How truly cosmic, Hoseok thinks.
And he knows - he knows now, what this is.
Knows that they are indeed a way for the cosmos to truly know itself, because what other phenomena out there could rival the beauty of a star’s rebirth, or the simple magnificence of the sun rising and setting, or of the constellations spanning the immense night sky but -
Perhaps it’s because they both know of the dangers of their own profession. Know the true value of a life and how quickly it can just end. How a lit candle will be snuffed out with just the softest gust of wind. They know, and they understand. It makes being together so much more, well - so much more engaging.
So much more worthwhile.
But it still does not get rid of the fear of a text at three in the morning. Or of a call at some odd time of the day, Hoseok’s hand flying to his phone, hoping to god it isn’t an emergency, or that nobody’s hurt. Not just Yoongi but his friends, too.
How many times has it been already for a paramedic to have lost their own life trying to save others? Too many times.
Hoseok wonders if this fear comes with the strong feeling he has for Yoongi. If this is what love is like, waking up every morning, his thoughts automatically drifting to Yoongi. Jostling awake at night, the sound of the tone of his radio dropping but a ghost of a memory, now. And instead of his radio, he finds Yoongi’s hand under the covers. It grounds him, stills the rumbling of the Earth.
Fear, in the end, Hoseok can say, is a constant, for people like him. For people like them. It never really leaves him. Not even when all they do on a Sunday morning is lie outside in Yoongi’s balcony, with Yoongi practically on top of him, softly peppering his neck with kisses, and slowly making his way up to Hoseok’s mouth.
Fear comes hand in hand with love, in this case.
And it’s a simple realisation - that this fondness has turned into something more, that Yoongi beside him has more than just a small chunk of Hoseok’s heart.
If he wants the one half, or maybe even more, Hoseok has no qualms about it - he can keep it.
The sun sets just in front of him, and Hoseok, for what feels like a rather long time, feels relieved at the thought of all the sunrises and all the sunsets he has with Yoongi. That they have together.
“You wanna go back in?” Hoseok drags his nails down Yoongi’s back, hand having crept up under his shirt.
Yoongi responds by smiling against the side of Hoseok’s mouth, “No, I like it here. We’re good.”
Hoseok allows his eyes to flutter shut and his heart to beat a little bit faster, the smile on his face seemingly perpetual, now, whenever he’s with Yoongi, because -
Because they’re good like this, together. They really are.