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It doesn't sink in until they're on the plane to Los Angeles. Seokjin closes his eyes and clutches the armrests through takeoff, but his body refuses to relax even after the roar of the engines has stopped ringing in his ears.
He's done his fair share of freaking out in the lead-up to this comeback. Hours spent practicing the choreography until his shoulders ached and his knees bruised purple and blue, crying in the recording booth when his voice cracked on the same phrase a dozen times—but by the end of it Seokjin had felt prepared, eager even to show the world how much he's grown.
But now, up in the clouds with the other members in varying levels of sleep beside him, Seokjin feels himself start to panic.
Jungkook, dozing against his side, must feel him tense because he mumbles a soft "Hyung?" against Seokjin's shoulder. He lifts his head and blinks the sleep away, frowning when Seokjin doesn't answer. "Okay?"
"Mm," Seokjin replies, which isn't really a response, but it's the best he can manage.
Unfortunately, Jungkook's a little too perceptive these days, because he butts his forehead against Seokjin's temple pointedly and then pokes the soft part of his stomach until Seokjin breaks.
"Fine, fine, all right!" Seokjin laughs, slapping Jungkook's hand away. "I'm just a little nervous, is all."
To his credit, Jungkook doesn't say why or you shouldn't be or even we all are, just hums and nods. He knows as well as Seokjin the pressure they put on themselves, perfectionism for better or for worse, and how to tell when platitudes will be welcome and when they won't. "Want to talk through it?"
"Not really," Seokjin says.
Jungkook hums again, thoughtful. "Want a distraction?"
"Not—" really, Seokjin goes to say again, but then he catches the mischief creeping slow into Jungkook's smile. "What kind of distraction?"
"Think we can both fit in the bathroom?" Jungkook asks, and Seokjin snorts.
"We can barely fit on our own," he teases, "you and your thighs—"
"You and your shoulders!" Jungkook quips, laughing.
Across the aisle, Hoseok groans, and Jungkook's mouth shuts audibly, a comically apologetic expression on his face. Seokjin shushes him, biting his lip to keep from laughing. "You're too loud," he whispers. "You're gonna get us in trouble."
Jungkook makes a face. "Shut up," he hisses back, "I'm trying to be nice to you."
Seokjin softens, smiling helplessly. "You are, Jungkookie. I'm not stressed anymore, you can go back to sleep if you want."
"But—" Jungkook says, eyes widening.
Seokjin raises his eyebrows. "But?"
Jungkook ducks his head. "I—wanted..."
"Ohhh," Seokjin says, smirking slowly. "You wanted, huh? I thought this was about making me feel better?"
He'd feel bad about how easy it is to make Jungkook squirm, but...well, it is making him feel better.
"Yeah, but," Jungkook attempts weakly, and Seokjin takes pity on him.
"Fine," he sighs, and grabs Jungkook's hand. He looks Jungkook in the eye and holds a finger to his own lips, glancing at Hoseok and Jimin snoring softly a couple feet away. Namjoon is sleeping peacefully in the seat in front of Jungkook's.
There's no one in this section of the plane other than the seven of them, and although they might get pissed if their sleep's interrupted, they'd understand. Seokjin smiles. "Don't wake the others, okay?"
Jungkook blinks. "What—oh."
Seokjin rolls his eyes, even as he presses Jungkook's palm more firmly against his dick, exhaling a little in pleasure. Jungkook looks so stunned, eyes deer-in-headlights big. Cute, Seokjin thinks. He feigns disappointment, sighing, "What did I literally just say."
"I'm being quiet!" Jungkook protests, technically whispering, though emphatically enough for it to carry across the cabin.
"I'm starting to think you want to be caught," Seokjin mutters, and has to laugh when Jungkook's breath hitches predictably.
"Hyung," Jungkook whines.
"You want that, baby?" Seokjin asks sweetly, grinding up against Jungkook's palm.
Jungkook gasps and chokes out a quick, "Hyung, please, can I—"
Seokjin tilts his head back against the headrest, looking at Jungkook through heavy-lidded eyes. "Hm?"
Instead of answering, Jungkook fumbles for the button of Seokjin's jeans with his free hand, but Seokjin grabs his wrist neatly, pinning it to his thigh. Jungkook fights him for a moment before going still, and doesn't try to move when Seokjin releases him to unbutton his jeans himself, dragging the zipper down slow and teasing.
"Please let me touch you," Jungkook says, low and pained.
"You are touching me," Seokjin counters, wrapping Jungkook's fingers around his dick.
"You know what I—" Jungkook begins hotly, before cutting himself with a surprised noise when Seokjin lets go of him entirely. He doesn't move, just looks at Seokjin wide-eyed and confused. His hands stay exactly where Seokjin left them, one resting on his own thigh, the other curled loosely around Seokjin's dick, motionless.
Seokjin inhales sharply at the rush of heat that gives him, stifles the urge to see how far he can go, let the power go to his head—they don't have the time or the space for that right now. Still, he can't help but jerk his hips upward once, breath catching at the way Jungkook's mouth falls open hungrily but he still doesn't move a millimeter.
"Good boy," Seokjin murmurs, looping his fingers back around Jungkook's wrist, and Jungkook shudders, biting down hard on his lip. "Go ahead, Jungkook-ah, touch me."
Jungkook tightens his grip immediately, moaning like he's the one being touched. He strokes reverently over the head of Seokjin's dick, and Seokjin chokes out a groan of his own, and it comes out a little louder than he intended. Jungkook jerks his head up to look at him, a hectic flush clinging to his cheeks. Seokjin glances around, but no one stirs, not even Namjoon right in front of them.
He turns back to Jungkook, whose mouth is still hanging a little open, and Seokjin reaches out without thinking and rests his thumb on Jungkook's lower lip, his other hand tightening around Jungkook's wrist. Jungkook's eyes slide shut, lashes sweeping his cheeks, and he sucks Seokjin's thumb in eagerly, a thin noise of want filtering muffled past it.
"Look at you," Seokjin teases. "If only we had enough space, maybe I'd let you blow me." Jungkook's eyes fly open at that, so Seokjin laughs and continues, "You'd like that, huh? Getting on your knees for me here in front of everyone? They'd definitely catch us then—you're barely keeping quiet enough now, and we all know how you get with something in your mouth." Seokjin tilts his head curiously. "But you like that idea, right?"
Jungkook's hand speeds up, a little frantic, and Seokjin groans, closing his eyes for a moment to gather his strength. When he opens them again, Jungkook is staring at him pleadingly, white-knuckling the armrest with his free hand. His mouth is soft and lax around Seokjin's thumb, and when Seokjin pulls it away, Jungkook lets it fall with a faint pop.
"I could suck you off," Jungkook says, hoarse with want.
"There's definitely not enough room," Seokjin says, and Jungkook makes a wounded noise before he's pulling away. Seokjin frowns and lets him go, opening his mouth to ask what's wrong, but then he realizes Jungkook's only moving far enough to lift the armrest that still separates them. "What are you—shit."
Jungkook smirks around Seokjin's dick, hunched over awkwardly to reach, the competitive little shit.
"You're going to strain your back," Seokjin chides half-heartedly. "Or your—neck, or—fuck, yeah, just like that—"
Jungkook's answering moan is too loud, three times as loud as it should be, and Seokjin is almost positive that at least Namjoon's awake at this point. He can't bring himself to care, though, not when Jungkook's mouth is warm and desperate around him.
"You're so fucking noisy," Seokjin hisses, hand falling to the back of Jungkook's neck without his consent. "You're always so fucking loud. Especially when I'm fucking you, right, Jungkookie?" Jungkook's hand tightens where it's braced on Seokjin's thigh, and Seokjin clutches at his head, grits out, "When we get to the hotel, I promise. I'll take care of you, don't worry, make you feel so good—"
Jungkook whines, and Namjoon's seat shifts in front of them, and somewhere across the aisle, Taehyung wakes up enough to mumble huh? what—? and it's enough, it's more than enough, for Seokjin to tighten his hand in Jungkook's hair and come.
There's a moment of stillness, of perfect calm, and then:
1. Jungkook swallows, pulls off, and says "Hyung, please—"
2. Namjoon turns around and shoots Seokjin a look of intense betrayal, but Seokjin ignores him.
3. A pillow comes sailing across the cabin to smack Seokjin in the face, and,
4. The seatbelt light flicks on.
"Noooo," Jungkook groans. "No, please, I'm so hard—"
Seokjin laughs, tucking himself back into his jeans. "It'll have to wait," he says, leaning over to fasten Jungkook's seatbelt and kiss his slightly pouting mouth. "It'll be worth it, I promise." Without looking, he picks the pillow up and chucks it back the way it came, smirking when he hears Jimin's ow and Yoongi's loud snort.
Jungkook looks intensely conflicted for a moment, before he finally asks, "You're not anxious anymore?"
Seokjin smiles, shaking his head. "Thanks, JK."
"Good." Jungkook nods, looking a little smug. "Worth it." He still has a little come on his chin, and his mouth is swollen and red and obscene enough they'll have to put a face mask on him, and he looks thoroughly fucked out without even being touched. Seokjin loves him so much he can't stand it sometimes.
"I hate you," Namjoon says matter-of-factly while they deplane.
"You've said," Seokjin laughs. "Multiple times."
"I meant it!" Namjoon insists. "How could you do that to me? I'm gonna be distracted all day," he complains. "I'm already stressed about all the English interviews."
Seokjin raises an eyebrow. "Well," he says easily, "I happen to have some tips on stress relief, if you want them." He tilts his head at Jungkook, who's arranging a face mask over his mouth before securing his cap on his head. Jungkook catches Seokjin watching and shoots them a look that somehow manages to exude both intense self-satisfaction and extreme sexual frustration at once.
Namjoon narrows his eyes. "I hate you," he says again, but his cheeks are pink.
The panic doesn't come back, not during practice or dinner, not during their interviews, not during their first taping. Even backstage at the Billboards, his hand curled loosely in Yoongi's for mutual emotional support—not even then. Seokjin can picture the choreography so clearly in his mind, has every beat drummed into his brain and his body.
He thinks about the beginning, exactly how his body should curl forward to match the others. He thinks about the end, arm outstretched toward the ceiling.
"Don't be nervous," Jungkook whispers in his ear. "You don't need to be nervous, hyung."
He thinks about his hand around Jungkook's wrist, and smiles.
"I'm not nervous," Seokjin replies. He means it.