Chapter Text
Yoongi realized it was Saturday night when he stumbled out of his room and Seokjin was buttoning up one of his going out shirts in the kitchen. He looked freshly showered and smelled like cologne, whistling something slightly off-tune to himself. Yoongi took a minute to count backward through the past few hazy days of constant work and realized that yes, it probably was Saturday. “Heading out?” he said, pushing past Seokjin to stare into the fridge.
“Yes, and you should come with,” Seokjin said, tucking his shirt in. “You’re done with the song, or else you wouldn’t be out here right now.” He slapped Yoongi on the shoulder. “Drink from the cup of victory, etc etc.”
“Who’s us?” Yoongi asked. He was done with the song, actually, and he was feeling bored and restless and tired and wired all at once. He wasn’t a big bar person or a big going out person, but the idea of staying home alone wasn’t appealing right now either.
“Me, Jaehwan, Sandeul, Byul, you know, the usual crowd,” Seokjin said.
“Pass.” Yoongi poked around in the fridge, grabbing a bottle of beer and some leftover fried rice.
“Yoongi, you need to get out of your troll cave of a bedroom and interact with--”
“Pass,” Yoongi repeated, shoving his chopsticks right in the cold rice. “Hard pass. You know what you get like with Jaehwan.”
Seokjin sputtered, offended, but Yoongi had known him for too long, he knew when Kim Seokjin had zero ground to stand on, and that time was right now. “You get banned from one teeny tiny insignificant little noraebang--”
Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, I’m not into hauling your drunk asses around tonight.”
“You need company,” Seokjin said, nudging him. “When was the last time you got laid?”
Hmm. Getting laid. That was...appealing. Yoongi ate in silence for a few moments while Seokjin pointedly ignored him to finish getting his hair perfect. He knew exactly the right moment to let Yoongi’s thoughts fester, the asshole.
It had been a while. He was lonely. Someone else’s hand on his dick sounded amazing and maybe getting fucked would be even better. Yeah. The idea took root, warmth spreading through his body, tingling a little at the thought. Getting fucked, a strong hand on his back, holding him down hard...Yoongi knew he was flushed and Seokjin was looking at him in an annoyingly knowing way, so he tried to hide his discomfort by taking a big swig of beer.
“You go out,” Yoongi said finally. He pulled his phone from his pocket and unlocked it, his thumb hovering over an app he’d barely used since his last relationship. “And stay out,” he mumbled, not meeting Seokjin’s eyes.
Of course, Jin wouldn’t let it go. He cracked up, reaching over to pull Yoongi into a side hug. “My little dongsaeng is growing up,” he cooed. “You’re a man now. A man who’s getting his dick sucked tonight.”
“I’m three months younger than you, asshole,” Yoongi said, pushing him away. “Touch me again and I’ll mess up your hair.”
“And I’ll still be incredibly handsome, it’s a curse,” Jin sighed. “Okay, I’m out. I won’t be back before three, please be safe, don’t get murdered, and don’t fuck on the couch.”
“Same,” Yoongi said. “I don’t want have to bail your ass out again.”
Seokjin blew him a kiss on his way out the door, which Yoongi caught and slapped on his own cheek, not even thinking about it.
Yoongi opened his laptop and pulled up the youtube channel of this guy who restored old cars. He was American and, while Yoongi’s English was decent, this guy had some kind of thick accent that made it impossible for Yoongi to understand. It didn’t matter. Yoongi liked to watch the guy carefully cleaning the various parts until they shined between his thick, grease-stained fingers, pattering on in a soft drone. Every once in a while something wouldn’t go right, or something broke, and the man would tut gently in a way that reminded Yoongi of his grandfather. It was Yoongi’s favorite background noise.
He set the videos to play and thought about that app. And getting laid. He thought about it through mindlessly playing round after round of I Love Hue, through the shower he casually and spontaneously decided to take, and through carefully picking out a nice outfit and spraying on some cologne.
“Fuck,” he said, staring at his phone. It seemed like he was really doing this.
He swiped through a few profiles. One guy had weird facial hair, another guy had this expression on his face that looked like he’d have bad opinions. Yoongi couldn’t explain why, but he just knew it. Not that he was looking for more than a casual hookup, but he didn’t want to hook up with anyone who was wrong about stuff. He thought about looking for girls, but he was really in the mood to get thrown around a little tonight, he could admit that to himself.
Yoongi kept swiping. Stupid shirt, bad taste in music posters, reminded him too much of his cousin-- wait. Yoongi stared at get_it_jeon97’s profile for a few seconds, then shot him a message out of sheer annoyance.
can you be more of an obvious catfish
um what
cat. fish. who even has a body like that anyway, your abs scream photoshop
me? i do? are u usually this rude to ppl ur trying to fuck?
are you telling me that is seriously your body and no face
dude i have a face, just like, what if my mom sees this
Yoongi bit back a smile, his shoulders shaking slightly with repressed laughter.
your mom goes looking for gay sex a lot? weird
dont judge my mom. you dont know her life
anyway can we stop talking about my mom and maybe i can send you a face pic?
ok to prove you’re not a catfish, show yourself doing something weird but not sexual with chopsticks
wtf
im waiting
At this point, Yoongi was pretty sure the guy wasn’t actually a catfish, but he kind of wanted to see what the guy would come up with. A few minutes passed, during which Yoongi worried he was actually doing something sexual with the chopsticks, which wasn’t anything he wanted to see. His phone dinged and he almost dove for it, equally afraid and curious.
“Oh my god,” he said, actually out loud, because there was get_it_jeon97 in all his shirtless glory, wearing just a pair of low-slung grey sweatpants, holding one fist up with chopsticks in between each finger, Wolverine-style. He looked like he might be cute, but he was also snarling, Wolverine-style, with his entire face. What the fuck. Yoongi let himself laugh this time, snorting loudly in his empty apartment.
ok i believe you, he typed.
The guy typed back right away you interested or is wolverine a turn-off?
Yoongi thought about it for about six seconds. This guy was hot, funny, and interested. A no-brainer. wolverine is never a turn-off he typed back.
………….
A short time later -- which Yoongi filled by putting on music, pacing, putting on different music, putting on the youtube channel, deciding that it was kind of like getting laid to his grandfather talking, putting on yet another playlist, and then putting on more deodorant because he was getting sweat -- his doorbell buzzed. What if he’s really a catfish, Yoongi thought wildly, with a really specific Wolverine fetish.
But when he opened the door, there was Wolverine Guy, still wearing those grey sweatpants, but he’d thrown on a zip-up hoodie and...oh god, it looked like he didn’t have anything on underneath that? And he was even hotter than Yoongi had imagined from the pic, all tan skin and smiling eyes. “Hey,” the guy said, kicking off his shoes. “It’s really me.” He bit his lip, looking Yoongi up and down. “Wow,” he said, laughing a little. “Um, wow.”
There wasn’t anything special about Yoongi’s outfit, it was just ripped jeans and a t-shirt, but he’d smudged a little eyeliner on and put on all his accessories, so he was working that “blow me in the club bathroom” look. It was something he’d perfected over the years. “So is the 97 your birth year?” Yoongi asked, his voice coming out a little scratchy. He cleared his throat. “From your profile?”
“Yeah,” the guy said, already moving toward Yoongi, putting his hands on his hips, his thumbs hot and firm against the tops of Yoongi’s hip bones. “This okay?” he asked softly, steering Yoongi back against the wall.
“Um,” Yoongi’s eyes fluttered shut and he swallowed hard. This was the best idea ever, he owed Seokjin dinner. Drinks. Something. “Yeah,” he said, “and you can call me hyung, by the way.” he was going to ask the kid his name, but he was still standing there, his hands digging into the waistband of Yoongi’s jeans, looking at Yoongi’s mouth and Yoongi kind of forgot what he was supposed to be doing. He grabbed the front of the guy’s t-shirt and hauled him in for a wet, messy, desperate kiss.
From there, it was kind of a blur. Yoongi steered them back into his bedroom, only hitting a few walls on their way there. The guy’s mouth was hot on his, hands everywhere, and then they were on the bed, and then they were skin to skin. It had been so long since Yoongi had indulged himself like this that he was just a ball of pure need, raking his nails across the guy’s ribs, just allowing himself to let go completely. He wasn’t drunk but he felt like it, lost in the taste of the skin under his tongue, the feel of a strong hand pushing him down, the sound of moaning in his ears.
Yoongi had been anxious for weeks about the song he had just finished, tweaking it and getting frustrated with it, living on crappy takeout and not drinking enough water. His muscles were in knots from where he’d been hunched over his keyboard for hours. And now it was all gone, the tension just bleeding out of him, the chaos of his brain drowned in white noise as get_it_jeon97 pounded into him, fucking him until he was boneless and moaning into his pillow. He was dying to come, but he didn’t want it to be over, didn’t want to go back to the worries in his head, so he pushed back, pulling at the guy’s arm. “Wanna ride you,” he said.
“Fuck,” the guy choked out. “Y-yeah, shit.” He flipped Yoongi over easily, then rolling them so Yoongi was on top. It was a little awkward, because now they were face to face, but Yoongi closed his eyes, tipped his head back as he sank down on his cock, and got to work. When he got tired, the guy just held on to Yoongi’s hips and lifted him up, bracing his feet against the bed, and slamming into him, in an impressive display of athleticism that was so hot on its own that Yoongi gasped and got a hand on his cock for two strokes before coming all over the guy’s chest. Under him, the guy whimpered, “oh godohgod, can’t stop, close, close,” so Yoongi raked his nails down his chest and flexing abs and the guy choked out a moan, froze, and came, nearly bent in half and clutching Yoongi’s hips hard enough to bruise.
Yoongi hit the mattress, panting. His left leg was starting to cramp a little and god, he wasn’t going to walk right for a day or two, but holy shit. Holy shit. Sweat slid down his forehead and stung his eyes and he blinked it away, too exhausted and limp to raise his arm and wipe off his face. Yoongi was completely, utterly, profoundly sated. “I needed that,” he said out loud, which was his way of thanking-- shit, he never did get the guy’s name, did he? It would be awkward to ask him now. Damn.
Oh well, it wasn’t like he was going to see him again.
“Yeah,” the guy said, blowing his bangs out of his face. “Wow.” Yoongi fought the urge to high-five him. It had been spectacular work on both their parts, A+ boning, and he felt like that should be acknowledged.
After they both lay there for a few minutes, catching their breath and using one of Yoongi’s towels to roughly clean themselves up, Yoongi said, “So, you cool to get home this time of night?” He figured he could kick in for a cab, it was the least he could do.
The guy turned to look at him with big, dark eyes. “Yeah,” he said. “Except um,” he looked down at his hands, which were fidgeting in the blankets. Oh god, he wasn’t going to get weird and want to stay, was he? To cuddle? Yoongi was absolutely not in the market for a relationship, he’d barely even wanted to get laid, this was a terrible idea--
“Is it okay--” the guy was saying, and Yoongi braced himself, half sitting up in worry. “Is it okay if I grab some water? I’m dying here.”
Oh. Yoongi flopped back on the bed. “Yeah, in the fridge.” It was the least he could do, the poor guy had just had a hell of a cardio workout.
“Thanks.” The guy leaned over to kiss him, soft and a little sweet, which felt kind of awkward considering that Yoongi still didn’t know his name. “And after I hydrate a little, I think I could go another round?” he said. “You know, if you’re interested.”
No fucking way.
“I could be convinced,” Yoongi said, trying to sound casual about it, because yeah, this was the best fucking hookup he’d had in ages. He was almost going to miss the guy. “Bring me a water too and we’ll see.”
After round two, (longer, a little slower, no less intense) Yoongi was no longer a functioning human. He was a mass of sweat and slightly sore muscles and sticky, drying come pretty much everywhere. He was gross and barely moving and completely, utterly satisfied. There was no way he was going to get up and get clean, he was already drifting into hazy almost-sleep, listening to the sounds of the guy shuffling around next to him. “You good?” Yoongi mumbled, which was the absolute peak of his hosting abilities at the moment.
“Yeah,” he heard the guy say. There was a warm weight next to him and a dip in pressure, then a light peck to the top of Yoongi’s hair. It was endearing, and it made Yoongi feel kind of weird for a moment before sleep started to claim him again. “Gonna head out soon,” the guy said. “Just catching my breath.”
“Mmm,” Yoongi mumbled into his pillow, finally giving in to the pull of exhaustion, as sleep finally claimed him.
………
The light filtering in through his window was what eventually woke Yoongi up. He groaned, rolling over and throwing one arm over his eyes. He was sore...everywhere. There were bodily fluids crusted in some incredibly unpleasant places, he could feel the beginnings of bruises on his ribs and his hips, and everything reeked like stale sex. It was the best morning ever. Yoongi felt so giddy that he almost wanted to giggle. He was blissed-out, fucked-out, and completely stress-free. There was no sign of the guy either, Yoongi was truly blessed by the gods of online hookup etiquette this fine morning. He could hear sounds coming from the kitchen and smelled green onions frying. Seokjin was home and cooking breakfast, truly this morning couldn’t get any better.
As Yoongi poked around in his room, looking for clean sweatpants, he could hear Seokjin laughing and a low rumble of a male voice in response. Jaehwan probably slept over, Yoongi guessed. It wouldn’t be the first time he crashed on their couch after a night of hard drinking and it wouldn’t be the last. Even unexpected company couldn’t kill Yoongi’s good mood; he liked Jaehwan just fine one on one, it was the group of Seokjin’s friends together that was a little too much for him.
Not bothering with a shirt, Yoongi tugged on a pair of mostly clean pajama pants and shuffled out to the kitchen in search of coffee. When he got there, he stopped short, unable to quite reconcile what he was seeing to his sleepy, caffeine-deprived mind.
There was Seokjin, as expected, looking like he’d had a full night of sleep and eight glasses of water, eyes sparkling as he carefully made a rolled omelet. There was already a pot of soup simmering on the stove, which was definitely more effort than Jin usually put into his hangover breakfasts.
And sitting at the table, a full bowl of soup in front of him, was the guy from last night.
He looked younger in the morning light, and fully dressed, Yoongi’s brain offered, smiling from ear to ear, his nose slightly scrunched like a kid. He had showered, his hair still slightly damp and staining the neckline of one of Seokjin’s t-shirts with water. He was also wearing some of Seokjin’s sweatpants, though those fit him tighter through the thigh than they ever did on Jin. He was laughing a little, looking at Jin, saying, “Hyung, wasn’t that before I was born?”
“Yah!” Seokjin turned around and pointed a spatula at the guy. “I’m not that old, you brat, and-- oh, hey,” Seokjin smiled as he noticed Yoongi. “Want some breakfast?”
This was too much. Yoongi felt like a smelly, come-covered cave creature standing there in the too-bright kitchen, visible bruises on his neck, his hair sticking up in all directions, shirtless, with his skinny, pale torso on display to the hot, clean, shiny guy -- whose name he still didn’t know! -- who had apparently been adopted by his roommate while Yoongi was sleeping. This was not how it was supposed to go.
“Uh, what the fuck is going on?” Yoongi asked, maybe more harshly than he meant to.
Seokjin frowned at him. “I’m making breakfast?”
“Yeah, but why is last night’s hookup sitting in my kitchen wearing your clothes, calling you hyung?” Yoongi turned to the guy, who was watching him curiously while shoveling soup into his face an alarming rate. “No offense, but I thought you were leaving?”
“Yoongi,” Seokjin said warningly. “That’s rude, you’re going to hurt Jungkookie’s feelings.”
Jungkook. That was the kid’s name.
“Oh, is that your name, hyung?” Jungkook asked, grinning at him, the little shit. “I never caught it.”
Seokjin made a strangled noise. “Both of you, this is offensive, I’m offended. Look, you’re upsetting the eggs.” He scraped sadly at the pan. “Yoongi, take a shower. You’ll feel better.”
It was rare that Seokjin gave him any kind of directive, he was usually the world’s most easy-going hyung, shaking off formalities and acting half his age. But when he did, when his voice was edged with that kind of seriousness, it was rare enough that Yoongi just kind of just did whatever he asked. And Jin was right, a shower would probably make him feel better.
He took a long shower, scrubbing away all the evidence of last night. As the hot water worked on his sore muscles, sluicing away the sweat and grime on his body, Yoongi realized he probably did owe Jungkook an apology. He’d just been startled, that was all. He didn’t want an awkward morning after, he didn’t want any kind of conversation about “maybe we should do this again” or “maybe we should go for dinner” and if Seokjin had gotten attached to the kid -- he was quietly, fiercely loyal to people he’d brought into their circle of friends -- that meant Yoongi was going to have to navigate movie nights or going out for drinks while looking at Jungkook and remembering what he’d looked like with Yoongi’s come all over his chest. Awkward.
By the time he got out of the shower, Jungkook was gone and the kitchen was empty and completely clean. Seokjin’s door was closed and Yoongi could hear him making the involuntary noises he made when he was gaming, so he didn’t want to interrupt. There was, however, a bowl of soup on the table, neatly covered in plastic wrap to keep it warm.
Right. Good. Seokjin wasn’t too mad at him, Jungkook was gone, and that’s...that’s exactly what he wanted. As he ate, Yoongi couldn’t help but feel a little guilty at how he’d overreacted. He should have apologized. But he wasn’t going to start messaging the kid and sending mixed signals, so he was just going to. Delete the app. That would be the smart thing to do. Yoongi took out his phone, looked at it for a minute, then put it back in his pocket. As soon as he was done eating, he’d delete it. Then he’d be done with the whole situation.