Archive of Our Own

“This is useless, I’m giving up.” Namjoon let himself fall on the couch with a loud sigh, spreading his limbs all over the cushions.

“Don’t fucking give up on me now, it’s been hours we can’t back down.” Seokjin was still standing up, holding a slipper with both hands, eyes alert scanning through their small living room.

“Just let the mosquito win, hyung.”

“Never. It may have my blood but it will never have my pride.”

Namjoon sighed once again, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He was sweaty from running around aimlessly. Their windows had to be open if they wanted some air to come in and not cook themselves alive. But their lights also had to be on if they wanted to find that mosquito that had been ruining their night. Having the lights on obviously meant attracting more mosquitoes, which is something Namjoon had tried to explain to Seokjin but to no avail, as the older had a personal vendetta against the insect. Namjoon wasn't sure when it had become personal, but a couple of hours ago Seokjin had started insulting the mosquito's bloodline, that's when he knew it was serious. 

Which is probably why it took him so long to give up. Seeing his roommate so passionate about something, anything really, always warmed his heart. But then what started as a 10 minutes hunt turned into a 4 hours bloodthirst and it was suddenly 2am and Namjoon was exhausted.

“I think I’m hallucinating,” said Seokjin.

“Why?” mumbled Namjoon, his hand still covering his eyes sheepishly.

“I hear it .”

“It must be near you then.”

“I hear it all the time and I can never see it.”

Namjoon moved his hand to peek behind it with one eye, seizing Seokjin up and down. His legs were crouched, his back arched, he was breathing rather loudly through his nose, his eyes were comically wide open. His skin was a little red from the day, fringe sticking to his forehead. He looked ridiculous. He was even kind of ugly. Technically. Or someone who hadn’t been him but looked a little like him would have been ugly. But Seokjin wasn’t and even for the joke of it, Namjoon couldn't bring himself to call him that. Ever. Because it wasn't the truth and Namjoon liked truths. 

"You look ridiculous," he still said, putting his hand down. 

Seokjin stopped looking around to glare at him, letting his arms fall to his sides. 

"I'm trying to save you from an unknown virus brought all the way from the other side of the world that will most likely bring you immense sufferings before killing you and this is how you thank me?" 

"Hyung I think you've played too much of that plague game Taehyung bought you." 

"Wrong," Seokjin frowned and readied his stance once again, hunting for his prey. "I'm not prepared enough. If this virus is smart it will get the antibiotics resistance upgrade and then no one will be able to stop its reign over the-" 

Namjoon had stopped listening to him. He had seen it. Like a wolf finding its prey, he followed it with his eyes. He studied its movements for a few seconds, predicting accurately where that damn mosquito would land and jumped to his feet to attack.

His instincts were sharp and his movements precise. A loud slap resonated in their living room, and just like that, their four hours of agony were over. The dead mosquito laid underneath Namjoon's long fingers.

Before he could rejoice, he heard something else echoing the slap.

A moan. 

Namjoon looked down at his hand and realised where he had killed that mosquito. Seokjin's butt. His hand was on Seokjin's ass. And did he let out a whine when he slapped it? 

Questions raced through his mind but not at the speed of light and suddenly it had been a couple of seconds since the Mosquito Death (as he would come to call it later) had happened. Namjoon panicked for one more second, Seokjin was frozen under his touch.

There were two things Namjoon could do in this situation:

1. Take his hand off: that could sound like the most reasonable idea but that wouldn't make the awkwardness disappear, they would still have to talk at some point about how Seokjin whined when Namjoon slapped his butt. (Namjoon let that sentence run through his mind once more time, trying to find some sense in it. He couldn't find any.) Taking his hand off could also come off as Namjoon being disgusted by the touch of Seokjin's butt (Seokjin's… Ass…) and the last thing he wanted was to make his best friend feel bad about himself. He knew how much he had struggled with his image, with self doubt and insecurities. Namjoon had done everything he could to make the older man feel more confident. He took pride in seeing how Seokjin had grown up into the self assured person he was today. The last thing he wanted was for Seokjin to think anything along the lines of "if he let go so fast it's because he thinks I'm disgusting", which, unfortunately, is something he had heard Seokjin say before about an ex-girlfriend. Now Namjoon was nothing like an ex-girlfriend but still, the mere possibility that Seokjin could think less of himself because a mosquito happened to die on his butt made him anxious. Which is how the second thought spurred in his mind. 
2. He could squeeze it. Now the logic behind a straight guy squeezing his straight best friend's butt isn't a flawless one, but at that moment in time, in those two more seconds that meant Namjoon's hand had been on Seokjin's butt for 5 seconds already and neither of them had said anything, somehow it made sense. 

So he did it. Namjoon squeezed Seokjin's butt. The mosquito was still dead between the younger’s hand and the cheap artificial fabric of Seokjin's shorts. For some reason, Namjoon had expected a whine to come out of his best friend again, but it didn’t. Instead Seokjin let out a small sigh that confused Namjoon so much he quickly took his hand off of the Butt. 

(He didn't want to acknowledge it but Seokjin's butt had earned a capital letter. It was like a secret weapon. Looking at his tall, slender, angular friend, he would have never guessed that his butt could hold such roundness, such meat. Yet when he squeezed it, he realized he had never touched something so firm and soft.)

For a split second he wondered if he wanted to have that Butt or squeeze it again but Seokjin's movements woke him up. 

"Did you kill it?" his voice was slightly strained, he cleared it with a fist over his mouth. 

Namjoon looked at his hand, blood all over it. 

"Ew… yeah I think it's dead." 

Seokjin shrieked and twisted his torso to try to catch a glimpse of where the dead mosquito had landed on his clothes. “Dude that’s so disgusting!” He looked over at Namjoon’s hand and gasped when he saw the trail of blood. “That bastard was so juicy too, look at how much blood it took from us!”

“I don’t think it’s really that much in the grand scheme of things. We have several liters of blood in our bodies, this is what? 0,5 milliliters at best?”

Seokjin winced and his face turned into a grimace, looking at Namjoon with disgust. “Did you not hear the tirade on viruses I just did? Go wash your hands you contaminated monster!”

The younger scoffed and playfully waved his hand in front of Seokjin’s face, trying to scare him off. Nevertheless, he still turned around and walked to their small kitchen to wash his hands thoroughly. He hadn’t realized Seokjin had followed him until he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Is there a stain?”

Seokjin was showing him his back. No he wasn’t showing him his back, he was showing him his Butt. To know if he had left a stain on it. When he had slapped it. To kill a mosquito.

Namjoon’s cheeks suddenly felt really warm and the only thing his mind seemed to come up with in this situation was to remind him how soft Seokjin’s ass had felt in his hand.

“Dude, how bad is it?”

He swallowed the spit that had ended up stagnating in his mouth and looked attentively at Seokjin’s Butt. His best friend had stretched his short a little, making it easier for him to see any eventual stain and the outline of his round behind. Mostly that if he was being honest. But even though Namjoon loved honesty, now was not a time for it. He tried to forget how perky and full and toned his Butt was and focused on finding an eventual stain. He saw a couple of mosquito residue but no blood.

He dried his hands, Seokjin kept looking at him impatiently. Namjoon, like he had done so many times on random pieces of fabric covering some part of his best friend’s body, brushed the residue off. Except that, unlike the times when he brushed off some bread crumbs on Seokjin’s sleeves, this time it was his Butt. Namjoon's hand had brushed past the fabric of Seokjin's shorts. Well it brushed with a little bit of force. Maybe Namjoon's touched Seokjin's shorts. Okay, Namjoon slapped Seokjin's Butt (again). But this time, his hand didn't linger and he didn't get the chance to squeeze the Butt. Somehow his first thought was " hope he doesn't think I hate his ass because I didn't squeeze it… " And even crazier, it made sense to him and he didn't see the flaw in the logic behind it. 

So his hand was off his roommate’s butt as quickly as it had come in contact with it and in the blink of an eye it had been done. He had slapped his best friend's butt for the second time of the night. 

Seokjin turned around, hands on his hips but an emotionless expression on his face. 

"You know," he said neutrally, "if you keep doing that, we're gonna have to talk about it at some point." 

"Talk about what?" 

"About you slapping my ass." 

Even though the idea had existed in Namjoon's mind for a good 10 minutes now, hearing it out loud left his mouth wide open with shock. But then again, Namjoon liked truths. 

"Listen," he started, extending a closed hand in front of him. "Your ass was under my hand. Not my fault." 

Seokjin gasped. "You squeezed it! My ass surely didn't squeeze itself!" 

"I didn't want you to feel self conscious about your ass!" 

Again, the older gasped. "So now you're telling me I should feel self conscious about my butt?! Is my ass that flat?" 

"What?!" Namjoon shouted, a little too loudly (as usual). "Who told you your ass was flat! It's as round as the Earth!" 

"Some would absolutely disagree with that statement." 

"Some are stupid and haven't squeezed your ass before." 

"Is that something you're gonna brag about now?" 

Namjoon froze. Was he? He did slap Kim Seokjin's ass and survived, not everyone could brag about that. But also, what kind of guy would brag about slapping his best friend's Butt?

Before Namjoon could reply, his roommate went on. "I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to brag about it to be honest, if I got to slap your butt I know I would." 

"Do you wanna slap my ass?" That came out of Namjoon's mouth a little too easily. And he didn't question it. At all. 

Seokjin shrugged. "You have a nice ass bro. It's like… meaty," he squeezed the air with both hands. 

"You can slap my ass if that would make you happy." 

Before Seokjin could reply, Namjoon was already turning around. For a fraction of a second, a part of Namjoon’s mind thought twice on what exactly they were doing. It was well past 2 am, they were sticky with sweat from running around for hours trying to catch a mosquito, they were both still a little light headed from the beer they had at diner and they were definitely entering some kind of sleep deprived state. Before Namjoon could think about what exactly he was doing, presenting his behind to his best friend for him to slap it, he did it too. Seokjin slapped Namjoon’s butt.

Unlike Seokjin on his first slap, Namjoon didn’t let out a whine (which disappointed him a little. Because he didn’t want Seokjin to think he wasn’t a good ass slapper. Of course.) It stinged a little but it also spread some unexpected warmth to the rest of his body. Even though he didn’t do so himself, he understood how Seokjin could let out a moan at that kind of slap.

“Maybe I should pick up pilates too,” Seokjin noted.

Namjoon turned back around, facing his roommate. His expressionless face hadn’t moved an inch. That made him… disappointed? Maybe. But also he didn’t look grossed out. That was… something?

“What do you mean?” Namjoon asked.

“Your ass.” Seokjin paused, as if what he was talking about was obvious. “It’s even better than before,” he added after seeing his best friend’s dumbfounded expression. "Pilates worked wonders on you bro. I think, objectively, before, your ass was Great Tier but now it's God Tier. It's really firm and even more meaty than I thought. Bet it would be great to squeeze."

Maybe if one of them had felt a little emotional about it, if one of their voices had wavered or one of their eyes had twitched, maybe something would have felt weird to Namjoon. But it was all terribly natural and normal, nothing out of the ordinary. So, as a conversation similar to this one but absolutely not talking about them slapping each other's ass, Namjoon (who before anything else was a good listener and a great and selfless friend) kindly turned around and presented his butt to Seokjin again.

"Go ahead," he simply said.

Seokjin didn't wait one more second before bringing one of his hand to Namjoon's butt and squeezing his cheeks. He gave it two good and deep squeezes that definitely did something to Namjoon as his jaw dropped open.

"Your butt is really surprising," commented Seokjin not at all affected by what was going on. 

"What's so surprising about it?" Maybe neither of them had noticed but Namjoon's voice was a little coarser.

"You always wear those baggy trousers and shirts, one would never suspect that such an ass was left dormant underneath there."

"Please don't talk about my ass like a volcano." 

Seokjin squeezed one of his butt cheek again and hummed in silent approbation before putting his other hand on Namjoon's other butt cheek. When he simultaneously squeezed both of them, Namjoon couldn't help but jump a little, letting out a small cry. 

"I see why you like it now," he said. 

Seokjin's hold on his roommate's butt loosened a little as he denied, "I don't like it." 

The younger scoffed. "You moan when you don't like something?" 

He gasped, "I didn't moan!" 

Namjoon suddenly turned around, breaking the link between Seokjin's hands and his butt. 

"Yes you did!" 

To prove his point (because Namjoon really liked the truth) he threw his arms past Seokjin's waist and, with both hands wide opened, grabbed his butt again. 

As if on cue, Seokjin moaned and Namjoon smiled triumphantly. 

Maybe if he wasn't as focused on the idea of being right, he would have noticed how incredibly close they were, how if Namjoon breathed a little too heavily, their chests would be touching. However, even through his victory rush, he could still notice that their faces were close enough for him to know that Seokjin didn't blush at all. Something tighten in his chest at the idea that he hadn't made Seokjin flustered. But again, he didn't question it. He didn't question anything that night. 

"Ha!" He shouted. "See? That's a moan!" 

Seokjin frowned, eyes darkening with anger. "I'll show you what's a moan." 

He pulled his arms around Namjoon's and his hands landed on his best friend's butt again, pulling him closer as he squeezed as tightly as he could. Their chests were now touching and if their necks hadn't been voluntarily thrown away from the other, their nose and maybe even lips would have collapsed. 

Nothing in this situation seemed to phase Namjoon as he smirked, looking as cocky as ever. "Good luck making me moan with that weak squeeze." 

"Oh I know what makes you moan," Seokjin replied, trying to keep an innocent look on his face. 

"And what might that be?" 

Seokjin stopped maintaining his neck so far away from Namjoon’s face and smirked, like he knew something he wasn’t supposed to. His best friend got a few shills down his spine. It was with that kind of look on his face that Seokjin had won every Minesweeper game they had ever played together.

“Don’t think I didn’t hear you when you brought that girl over here that one time.”

“Like I could ever pretend you didn’t, you made my life hell for a week because my bed was too loud that night.”

Seokjin nodded, hands still firmly grabbing onto Namjoon’s butt. “Yes but before you moved to your room, the bed wasn’t the loudest thing.”

Namjoon cocked an eyebrow up, trying to recollect the events of the night in question but Seokjin didn’t even let him time to remember what that girl looked like and moved his head against his. Namjoon felt his breath ricochet back to his nose after hitting his roommate’s skin. Then he noticed the pressure on his lower lip and heard a low voice coming from deep within his chest. Seokjin had taken his lip between his and, eyes still open looking into Namjoon’s, sucked on it. His best friend was certainly more perceptive than he had giving him credit for in the past. He had no idea that from just one hook up months ago he would be able to remember what had made him moan that night. Sure enough it made him moan that night too.

Seokjin smiled, his lip still in his hold for a few more seconds before letting it bounce free. 

"Told you," he said. "I know what makes you moan." 

Namjoon pouted, letting go of his roommate's butt who mimicked the motion. They were suddenly standing a couple of steps away from each other and while the situation hadn't turn out to be weird, thanks to some lucky cosmological force, Namjoon felt a little bit cold. That in itself was a rather ridiculous idea because it was almost 27°C in their apartment thanks to the cheap lights heating up their small and poorly insulated rooms. Still, when Seokjin took his hands off of Namjoon's butt, the imprints of his fingers stayed engraved deep in his skin for a few seconds. The younger looked at Seokjin, in search of the answer to a question he didn't know how to phrase. 

Eventually, he gave up to the tiredness that had lodged itself in his eyelids. 

"What time is it?" he asked.

Seokjin walked back to the living room, Namjoon on his heels, and picked up his phone from his coffee table. 

"It's almost 3am, shit." 

"You have work tomorrow?" Namjoon picked up his phone from the couch and moved towards their bedrooms. 

"Yeah, at 9 though, I should be able to get some rest." Seokjin turned off the lights and followed Namjoon down the corridor.

When they reached the doors to their bedrooms, facing each other, there was one second of awkwardness. Namjoon wondered if he should go for a hug or a handshake or nothing. Seokjin seemed to wonder the same thing and, in the dark, Namjoon felt even colder. He threw his arms around Seokjin's shoulders and brought him to his chest, his best friend wrapped his arms tight around his waist.

"Good night!" Namjoon said as he let go. Seokjin nodded and waved before disappearing behind his door. The younger felt a bit silly standing alone in their narrow hall. For some reason something in him was telling him to savor the moment. So he did, and hesitantly he smiled, lifting a hand to his lips, brushing past where Seokjin's had been. 

Wait… 

When it hit him, his eyes grew wide and he almost snapped his neck glancing at the closed door to his right. 

Was that a kiss? 

He felt dumb for a second, arms falling to his sides. Did his best friend kiss him? What did that mean? He frowned. He loved the truth and knowing things he was sure of and he hated going to sleep with questions unanswered playing in the back of his mind. He sighed and was about to knock on Seokjin's door when it opened all of a sudden, revealing a Seokjin in a large t-shirt and boxers. He jumped when he saw Namjoon and brought a hand to his chest, as if trying to physically calm down his heart. 

"Shit you scared me! What are you doing here?" 

Namjoon thought about it for a few more seconds before deciding that enough was enough. He raised his hands to his sides and, eyebrows as furrowed as ever, he asked "Did we kiss?"

Seokjin raised an eyebrow, genuinely wondering what his best friend was talking about. "What on Earth are you talking about?" 

"When you made me moan," explained Namjoon. 

The older brought a finger to his chin, thinking it over. When the light bulb in his head lit up, his eyes grew big. 

"Damn," he let out. "You're right, I think…"

Their eyes met and neither said a thing as their pupils danced with each other, trying to figure out which eye to look into. 

Namjoon was the first to look away, he looked up at the ceiling and cleared his throat. 

"Anyways, no homo?" He smiled. 

Seokjin snorted. "Yeah bro, no homo." 

They both laughed awkwardly and Namjoon remembered that they were on Earth. 

"Where were you going by the way?" 

"Oh I was coming to your room, tried to sleep but it didn't work." 

Namjoon opened his door, letting Seokjin come in without hesitation. 

"Did you really try to sleep though? You were in there for seconds." 

Seokjin nodded and threw himself on Namjoon's bed. "I know my sleep, I know when I won't close an eye because I'm alone." 

The younger shrugged his shoulders and made his way to his closet, grabbing his pyjamas. 

"Don't look," he told Seokjin and changed. When he turned around, his best friend was facing the other way. He reached the bed and pushed Seokjin towards the wall to the left side of the bed. Namjoon's twin size bed was barely large enough for the both of them, but it didn't matter that much as Seokjin needed to wrap himself around Namjoon to get some sleep sometimes. Like he had done so many times before, the older swung his arms around Namjoon's waist and engulfed his face in his chest. 

"Wait," Namjoon reached for his phone on the bedside table. "Don't you need an alarm?" 

Already losing himself to sleep, Seokjin grunted in approbation. Namjoon set the alarm he had saved as "Hyung's" and put his phone away, letting his arm fall around Seokjin. Their legs intertwined and Namjoon hid his nose in Seokjin's fruity smelling hair.

To Namjoon’s relief, the Mosquito Death incident wasn’t brought up for a while after the events. The part of him that made him replay Seokjin’s moan in his mind every time he tried to drift off to sleep had started to convince him that maybe something weird did happen that night and that maybe he should be reevaluating a few things in his life. But the morning after the incident, when “Hyung’s” alarm went off and he had to wake up a clingy and still sleepy Seokjin, neither of them acted differently than they had before. That reassured Namjoon greatly. He was getting pretty busy with his new short story being close to publication, he didn’t need an existential crisis to ruin the first opportunity he’s had in years.

The days flew by and neither of them was any colder towards the other. If anything something in them calmed down and allowed them be as touchy as they wished to be. Namjoon’s arm kept finding Seokjin’s shoulders to rest on and Seokjin’s hands kept finding Namjoon’s arm to cling on to. They seemed to accept that after all these years of friendship and living together, going through college and their first shitty jobs, living in apartments far worse and smaller than the one they currently had, it was only natural that at some point they would grow even closer. However, they still failed to address that not every best friends get closer after an incident like the Mosquito Death.

Summer went on, the nights were still warm, the mosquitos still obsessing Seokjin. They still left for their day job in the morning, texting each other updates throughout the day (Namjoon would talk about every interesting package he had to deliver, Seokjin about every annoying client he had to serve). Once they came home, Namjoon would settle on the couch, write while waiting for Seokjin to finish his shift. Sometimes he would meet him at the restaurant he worked at and they would eat the evening’s leftovers before closing. Other times Seokjin would come back home exhausted and Namjoon would try his best to make him some ramyeon without burning their apartment down. But most times, Seokjin would get home, cook some French recipe he had seen the chefs do at work that day. Namjoon would set the table and they would eat together, telling each other what they couldn’t over text. After dinner, Namjoon would wash the dishes and Seokjin grab his guitar. They would work on Seokjin’s music until one of them got too tired and they’d make their way to their rooms.

One thing that Namjoon had noticed is that the frequency with which Seokjin would knock on his door a few minutes after closing his own had increased. Before, the older had trouble sleeping for about one night per week. Now it was the other way around, it had become rare for Seokjin to sleep in his own bed. However Namjoon wasn’t about to complain, he too had trouble sleeping when he wasn’t holding Seokjin like a plushy.

Before Namjoon could take the time to appreciate it, August was here and his short story had been published. It was part of an anthology on what will happen to humanity once the Earth finally collapses. His friend Hoseok worked for the publishing company and had convinced them to use an old story of Namjoon, who had to rewrite most of it to fit the theme. Still, he was proud of the result and even prouder to finally be able to call himself a published author. To celebrate the end of months of hard work, Hoseok had invited him to a noraebang with the rest of their friends group.

Namjoon and Seokjin got there later than intended, the older had had to pick up the slack for a waitress who got sick during her shift. When they pushed the heavy door of the room Hoseok had booked, they were welcome with shouts already filling the air with alcohol. Yoongi congratulated Namjoon and introduced him to his boyfriend of a few weeks that he still hadn’t had the time to meet, Jeongguk. The younger man was a little shy at first but Jimin and Taehyung had made him feel welcome amongst them.

Still sitting down on one end of the couch, Hoseok had shouted, lifting his empty glass up, “The straights are here! Look at this, losers!” He then proceeded to make out with his boyfriends Jimin and Taehyung for an uncomfortable amount of time while Seokjin and Namjoon settled down on the other end of the couch.

Even through the bubbly pop music blasting, Namjoon could still hear Jeongguk whisper in Yoongi’s ear “They’re not together?” 

Yoongi discreetly (or so he thought) looked over at them and shook his head.

“They literally came in holding hands…” 

Yoongi shut him up with a small peck and a squeeze on his waist. “Let them be, they need to figure themselves out.”

Namjoon frowned and wondered at what point exactly did they start holding hands. Maybe it was when he was about to take a wrong turn through the labyrinth of corridors and Seokjin had grabbed his wrist to lead him in the right direction. Then why hadn’t they let go after that?

“Dude, you’re okay?”

He turned to his left, Seokjin was looking at him with a shade of worry in his eyes. He usually hated seeing him worry about anything but somehow that warmed his heart a little.

“Yeah don’t worry about it.”

Seokjin was about to reply, the worry clearly not clouded out of his mind, but Taehyung suddenly got up and asked who wanted to sing first. Before anyone else could reply, he grabbed Jeongguk’s hand and pulled him up in front of the TV screen.

As the night kept going on, the air got thicker with sweat and alcohol. Namjoon was used to nights like this, nights that made you feel a little lonely at some point. Hoseok was always very clingy with his boyfriends and they loved to humour him. But before Yoongi brought Jeongguk along, they used to be three single people against a throuple. They used to stand a chance at not being overwhelmed (and slightly grossed out) by the amount of love (and tongue) that was put on display. Now it was just Seokjin and him. Jeongguk and Yoongi spent their time in each other’s arms, not as publicly affectionate as the other three but still too much for Namjoon’s single taste.

Maybe it was the amount of hormones the rest of his friends were emanating or maybe it was Jeongguk’s comment that kept playing on repeat in his mind, but Namjoon was aware of everything Seokjin was doing. He noticed when he scratched the bridge of his nose; when his hand slipped on his bottle and almost let it fall to the ground; when he pulled his feet over his thigh, digging his knee in Namjoon’s thigh. Even worse than that, Namjoon was daydreaming. When he saw Seokjin’s plump lips red with alcohol drink straight from the bottle, he thought back on the Mosquito Death and when his best friend had made him moan with just a kiss. Was it a kiss? They hadn’t exactly established if it was a kiss or not. Could have been a bro kiss. Do bros kiss each other?

“Namjoon!” Seokjin shouted a little too close to his ear.

He shrieked and brought his hands up to cover it up, letting some silence heal the sharp pain the other had given him.

“What the fuck hyung! That hurt!”

Seokjin pouted mockingly. “Ow no I’m sowwy Joonie.” He sat up and grabbed his best friend’s hand. “I don’t care though, it’s our time to shine!” He jerked him to his feet. 

Namjoon’s balance was still a little bit off from the loud noise in his ear and he almost fell to the ground, Seokjin pulling an arm around his waist to hold him up.

“You’re good?” he asked. The concern in the eyes was back.

As for Namjoon, he wasn’t actually good. His ear hurt, Seokjin’s mouth was awfully close to his nose and the older already reeked of alcohol. Their friends were looking at them expectantly (though the only thing he could see was his best friend’s face, he knew his friends that much) and he could hear their thoughts from up there. Hey! That’s hella gay! But was it? Was it really? Maybe he should be listening to the expertise of five gay men in happy relationships but maybe they didn’t know a thing of what they were talking about. This was Seokjin and Namjoon. They had always been like that. Nothing would ever change that.

Except a potential Fancy Noraebang incident.

Namjoon had gotten lost in his thoughts again and, not letting him time to rest, Seokjin let his hand fall down his back and find its way to his butt again. He squeezed it hard and briefly, just enough to wake his best friend up.

“We gotta sing Fancy, bro.” He explained in haste.

All it took was one word and Namjoon’s doubts and questions disappeared. His eyes grew as big as his smile and he was shouting at his friends to move the table. They obeyed, face wide with curiosity. Seokjin tried letting go of Namjoon’s butt but the younger grabbed his wrist to let his hand there longer. Covered by the voices of their friends and the clinking of bottles and glasses, Namjoon lost himself in Seokjin’s eyes for a second. He had never done that before. He sort of wished he had. On the other hand, the older’s eyes couldn’t seem to decide whether they wanted to focus on Namjoon’s dark gaze or his red lips. So he decided to go for an ass squeeze that won him a deep sigh from his best friend. Namjoon gulped and let go of Seokjin’s wrist to move up to the impromptu dance floor.

When both of them were in position, Seokjin asked Jimin to start the song. Fancy by Twice blasted through the small room. In front of their cheering friends, Namjoon and Seokjin danced and sang the whole song without any misstep. Namjoon handling the rapping parts better than the singing parts and Seokjin nailing every note, as expected. Both of them kept stealing glances to the other, both checking up and checking out how they were doing. Namjoon almost hit his shin against the table a couple of times but that didn’t stop him. Seokjin looked ecstatic, and he realised that was enough to make him endure all the suffering in the world. 

Namjoon gave up the choreography and sang the last “ What if someone likes it first, Fancy you, I will come to you now ” looking straight into Seokjin’s eyes. The older was definitely thrown back when the song ended and he tripped on his feet, landing right in Namjoon’s open warms. 

Before he could say anything, Yoongi screamed from the couch, “If y’all don’t kiss right this second!”

Jeongguk sighed loudly and made an exhausted face. “That was the horniest sexual tension I’ve ever witnessed!”

Namjoon was turning red. Seokjin’s head was resting on his shoulder and he couldn’t tell what his best friend was thinking.

“Agreed!” said Jimin, standing up. “That being said, best cover of Fancy I’ve ever seen, Jihyo would be proud.” He bowed deep, his boyfriends giggling at his drunken behaviour next to him.

Namjoon heard a small voice come out of Seokjin and leaned down, asking him to repeat himself.

“Let’s talk outside,” he replied, barely louder than the first time.

The younger nodded and broke their embrace to open the door behind him. Seokjin followed outside and locked their friends cooing and cheering obnoxiously inside.

Namjoon had his arms awkwardly straight to his sides, he couldn’t bear to look up from the old tiles on the floor.

“So uhm…” Seokjin hesitated. At least he was as unsure as Namjoon was, that must have count for something. “That was pretty gay, right?”

The younger looked up. Seokjin was awkwardly rubbing the back of his head with his palm, an embarrassed smile across his face.

“I don’t know about all that,” Namjoon replied honestly. Because he liked truths and he knew that he wouldn't be able to hold in it for much longer anyway. “But I’m pretty sure I fancy you.”

Seokjin scoffed at the joke. “Okay… So what do we do about that?”

“We could dance the night away…”

“You-”

“Or I could make this simple for you and give you two choices.” Namjoon paused to look at Seokjin's amused yet terrified eyes. “Yes or yes,” he sang as he danced the moves. 

Seokjin pursed his lips, trying to contain his laughter but failed and threw his head back, letting his loud laugh out.

“You’re an idiot!” he shouted, trying to catch his breath.

Namjoon was getting exponentially redder. He was always glad to be the reason Seokjin would laugh but this was too much. Not at his love confession. His love confession? Was saying Twice title songs really a love confession? Did he even love his best friend? Who was a man?

Seokjin finally stopped laughing and looked… a little drunk. Drunker than before, and a part of Namjoon told him he was drunk on him but that just seemed very unlikely. Still, the older took a step forward and rested his hands on Namjoon’s neck, letting his thumb run along his jawline.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Yes?”

“Yes or yes. I say yes.”

“Oh.”

Namjoon hadn’t exactly prepared to this eventuality. His drunk brain had just enough power to run the scenario in which Seokjin tells him he’s not interested and he blames his confession on the alcohol and the joy of being a published author. But now Seokjin’s gaze was definitely on his lips and he was pulling himself forward, closing the gap between them centimeter by centimeter. When Namjoon’s brain finally registered what was about to happen, he let out a sigh that ricocheted against Seokjin’s skin and let his hands run to his waist, tracing the lines of his hips before settling on his Butt.

“You really like my ass don’t you?” Seokjin murmured.

“You really like my lips don’t you?”

“Yeah…”

Just like the first time (because now the Mosquito Death was definitely the night of their first kiss) Namjoon didn’t realise Seokjin’s lips were around his bottom lip until he sucked on it gently. As if on reflex, Namjoon squeezed Seokjin’s ass at the pressure and their moans met in the small space between their mouth that still existed. Namjoon hated that space. He closed his eyes and pulled Seokjin closer to him, chest against chest and kissed him for real.

It felt like nothing he had ever done before, like discovering something so new yet so familiar. Because this was Seokjin. They met at the end of high school, followed each other through college, always lived together, did everything together. He knew everything about Seokjin but tasting him was like opening a new door of wonders. 

“Finally!”

Seokjin jerked his head away at the sound, and Namjoon was forced to follow his motion and look at a very drunk Hoseok stumbling through the door despite their friends holding him back.

“I love you guys but seeing you pretending to be straight was the worst thing to experience. I was only your friend because I saw how gay you looked at each other…”

“Okay babe that’s enough for tonight,” said Taehyung, grabbing one of Hoseok’s arm as Jimin took care of the other. Despite the drunk man’s protests, they pulling him back inside and threw him on the couch. Jimin poked his head out to smile and send them a flying kiss before closing the door again.

“He’s still the worst drunk,” Seokjin pointed out.

Namjoon nodded, adjusting his hold of Seokjin’s butt to hold him closer again. “So?”

He kissed him. “I wanna know what is love,” he whispered against his lips.

The younger chuckled and kissed him again. “Sounds like a good plan.”

“I hear it . I think…”

“You think?”

“Bro, shut up and help me kill the beast.”

“Ew don’t call me bro. That’s like incest. You don’t fuck your bro do you?”

Seokjin stopped in the middle of the living room and turned around to cup Namjoon’s chin with his free hand.

“Mmh my bro,” he kissed him, “Bro I love you”, once more, “No homo, bro,” and again, “Bro you’re like my boyfriend or something.”

Namjoon playfully shoved him away from him, pouting. “It’s been a year, stop it with the bros already.”

Seokjin cooed at the pout. “Oh no baby,” he let his slipper fall on the floor to hold both of Namjoon’s cheeks in his hands and kiss his pout away. As the kiss deepened, Namjoon’s hands slid down Seokjin’s curves until they found their favourite place on his butt. On cue, he sucked gently on the younger’s lip and Namjoon slapped Seokjin’s ass, granting him a gasp and a deep moan he swallowed whole.

“I think I got it,” he whispered.

Seokjin’s eyes grew wide and he pushed himself a little off of Namjoon’s chest. “You got the mosquito?”

He softly smiled, turning his eyes into crescents and moved a hand up to Seokjin’s cheek, bringing him close enough for a chaste kiss.

“No,” he said in between pecks on his lips. “You. I got you.”