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“This is not a problem,” Jungkook insists, even though his box of to-be-donated items is clearly straining at its duct-taped seams. Manager Sejin took one look at it and headed to the storage room to get a trolley to take it to his car.
Seokjin crosses his arms. Jungkook crosses his arms back.
“It’s just—Jungkook-ah, we’re doing well now; we just don’t understand why you buy cheap things from China,” Jimin says, in the eminently reasonable tone that drives Jungkook wild.
“I buy them because they’re cheap.” Jungkook’s frustration bleeds through his voice. Jimin tilts his head slightly, clearly not seeing his point. “And you guys benefit from it! I put shelves in the bathroom cabinet, there’s a new dish rack, new shower curtains—”
“There’s no need for five shower curtains,” Seokjin points out.
“They were on sale!”
“You’ve thrown away far more things than you’ve kept,” Hoseok says, watching Sejin trundle the box of crap down the hall to the elevator.
“I don’t throw them away; I give them to charity!” Jungkook says indignantly. “Anyway, it’s kind of the point of buying cheap stuff, hyung. If it turns out to be terrible, you haven’t lost much, but if it’s good, you save a lot.”
“Hyung, don’t you have anything to say about the evils of consumerism?” Jimin asks Yoongi.
Yoongi, who hadn’t planned on getting involved, shrugs and says, “Buying lots of cheap things from small companies probably isn’t any worse than giving way too much money to a big label for one belt. And I don’t know about you, but I remember when we couldn’t even afford to get a 13,000 won clothes horse and had to drape our wet clothes on our bunks. It’s nice that we can buy a thousand of them if we want to now.” Jungkook looks at him with big, grateful eyes. Yoongi wrinkles his nose at him a little bit and he smiles.
Taehyung snorts. “Shouldn’t have asked the hyung who buys shapeless sweaters from Eleven Street,” he says, and they all laugh.
“Still, it’s a waste of resources, Kook,” Namjoon says gently. “You don’t know if anyone will want to buy them from Beautiful Store, so they might get wasted.”
Jungkook’s mouth twists. “Fine, I swear I’ll use every single thing I buy online from now on, then,” he says stubbornly.
Seokjin, scenting blood in the water, points at Jungkook and says, “You’ll have to do a punishment if you fail.”
“Fine.”
“Bathroom cleaning duty for three months off-tour.”
“Deal.”
“From now until forever?” Namjoon asks, concerned. “Isn’t that a bit harsh?”
“Just the first time, then,” Jimin proposes, and they shake on it.
A few weeks later, Yoongi is sitting at the kitchen table fucking around on his phone when he hears the beep and click of the dorm’s main door opening. It’s Jungkook, with a new package under his arm.
“Hey, what’s that?” Yoongi asks. He’s noticed that Jungkook’s stopped enthusing about his e-commerce hauls with the other members since their ill-considered intervention, so Yoongi’s been trying somewhat awkwardly to show interest in their stead. So far, this has caused him to have to sit through conversations about, variously, custom carabiners, modular bags, and drain cleaning fluids, but at least Jungkook looks happy afterwards. (“Thanks, hyung,” Jungkook had said on one such occasion. “The only people in my life who appreciate a good discount are you and my mother.”) Jungkook also makes a point of dramatically flaunting his use of every item in front of the other members, so. That’s a thing.
“It’s a lucky bag!” Jungkook says, his nose scrunching in excitement as he bounds over. “It’s from one of those nice underwear stores—you know, the ones that use bamboo fibre fabric—from their post-Christmas sale? I just entered my size and they sent me a random selection of stuff. They said they’ll put in at least 80,000 won of products and I only paid 35,000. That’s, like, more than half off, hyung.”
“Wow,” Yoongi says, watching with interest as Jungkook rips the package open. “Bamboo fibre is pretty comfy.”
“They sell other stuff, but that’s their main product,” Jungkook says, pulling a silk drawstring bag out from the package and dumping out the contents onto the kitchen table.
“Festive,” Yoongi comments. It’s a riotous pile of fabric, but he can see that it’s all red and green and sweater prints, and—is that fur?
Jungkook spots the fur thing, too, and picks it up to hold against himself. Yoongi blinks, then blinks again. It’s—
“Oh my god,” Jungkook gasps, throwing the barely-there, translucent, fur-trimmed Santa babydoll back onto the table as if it’s on fire.
“Is it not bamboo fibre, then?” Yoongi says dryly.
“Hyung,” Jungkook whines. “Oh my god, I knew the post-Christmas sale might all be Christmas-themed stuff, but this— ”
“Can you return it? Say they sent you a women’s product?”
Jungkook whips out his phone and starts typing furiously, looking for the company’s return policy. Yoongi picks up the… item… and peers at the tag. “Kook, it says it’s for men.”
“What??”
“Yep. It says right here. Men’s lingerie.”
Jungkook snatches it out of his hand to see for himself. “Oh, god. I didn’t even know they made. That. For men.”
Yoongi can’t help but laugh. “Well. I guess you’re on bathroom duty for the next three months, huh?”
Jungkook throws the babydoll on the table like a gauntlet and glares. “No.”
“No…?”
“No.”
When a screech rings through the dorm at 7 am in the morning two days later, Yoongi stumbles out of bed and goes towards the commotion, rubbing at his sticky eyes. Seokjin is yelling from Jungkook’s door. “Jeon Jungkook! What are you wearing?”
It must be the lingerie, Yoongi thinks, but even knowing that, when he rounds the corner and peers past Seokjin’s broad shoulders, the visuals of it are still a shock. Jungkook’s sitting up in bed, the covers fallen from his shoulders to pool at his hips; clearly he’d just barely managed to sit up and is still mostly asleep. The faux fur dips into a deep vee at his chest and the fluttery translucent material of the dress drapes prettily around him, splitting below his sternum to expose his abs. “‘S too early, hyung,” Jungkook mumbles, flopping back onto the bed and rolling over, and—oh, god—he has matching panties on, in the same translucent material of the rest of the dress, that curves beautifully along the swell of his ass, and Yoongi is going straight to hell. Seokjin makes another harsh noise in the back of his throat, and somehow, Yoongi gathers the wherewithal to tug him away and shut the door before he starts screaming again.
“This is your fault,” Yoongi hisses.
Seokjin’s eyes bug out. “How could this possibly be my fault?”
Yoongi explains the whole thing, to Jin as well as to Hoseok and Jimin, who had woken up because of all the noise and come out of their room. As Hoseok and Jimin start arguing over whether they should open Jungkook’s door to take a look for themselves, first Namjoon and then Taehyung appear in succession and Yoongi has to explain it all over again.
Taehyung, who is just about to turn the doorknob, nearly falls into Jungkook’s bedroom when Jungkook opens the door, makes a confused noise at the party gathered just outside, and wanders blearily to the bathroom.
“This is all your fault,” Jimin hisses, prodding Seokjin in the arm. Seokjin makes a loud sound of indignation. Taehyung is still gaping at the closed bathroom door down the hall, Namjoon has his face buried in his hands, Hoseok has fallen onto the floor, and Yoongi makes his way to the kitchen to make a vat of coffee.
“Hyung, breakfast please,” Jungkook mumbles sweetly, dropping into a chair at the kitchen table a minute later. The rest of the members creep into the kitchen one by one, Namjoon making a choking noise when Jungkook stretches and the babydoll rides up his chest, exposing even more of his toned stomach to the air.
“Aren’t you cold?” Yoongi asks as evenly as he can, cracking a whole carton of eggs one by one into a large bowl.
“No, ‘s comfy.”
“Okay.”
Jungkook gets up to retrieve seven assorted mugs and glasses from the high cupboard, tantalisingly baring the bottom curves of his panty-clad butt every time he reaches up. Hoseok makes an unintelligible sound.
“Kookie, you look so pretty,” Taehyung says earnestly, taking the seat next to Jungkook’s.
Jungkook carefully pours himself some banana milk, trying to feign nonchalance. “It’s comfortable and it was on sale,” he says, then chugs the whole glass and tries to leave.
Jimin catches him by the wrist. “Hyung explained everything.”
“It’s, uh, admirable that you’re not wasting resources,” Namjoon says.
“What about my emotional resources?” Seokjin demands.
“How many times do you have to use it before it’s considered ‘used’?” Hoseok asks. “Like, if you use something once and throw it away, it’s not good, right? That’s why everyone is trying to get rid of straws.”
“You’re an evil genius, hyung,” Taehyung gasps, his mouth dropping open in amazement.
“No, no, no, no, no, this is fine! This is great!” Seokjin says, his voice getting higher and higher. “Once is fine! For the sake of the bet!”
Namjoon frowns. “But for the sake of the planet, single-use products are not recommended, it’s true.”
“Hyung ,” Jimin says reproachfully.
“Actually,” Jungkook mumbles to the whorls on the wooden table, “I kind of. Like it.”
There’s a collective groan around the table. Jungkook blinks around at them. “You don’t like it…?” he asks hesitantly. “It feels good on my skin.”
“No, no, no,” Seokjin is muttering again.
“Jungkook, we like it,” Yoongi says, setting the plate of scrambled eggs in front of him. “It’s your home, wear whatever you want.”
Taehyung makes a hurt noise. “But you said I had to wear pants.”
“Wear what you want within reason,” Namjoon says, in his leader voice. “No dicks on the couch.”
“But Jungkook’s dick had might as well be out.”
They all look, peering over or under the table at him. It’s just barely restrained by the elastic of his panties, which is really just a little scrap of cloth, and under their collective gaze, it actually twitches enough that the head peeks out of the elastic on top. Jungkook squeaks and tries to pull the fabric of the dress down to cover it, but it’s translucent and hides nothing. “It’s underwear,” Hoseok says decisively. “We said that you have to at least be wearing underwear in the shared spaces. Without holes. Those are the rules.”
“This is not within reason!” Seokjin bursts out. Jungkook shrinks in his chair, and everyone turns to glare at Seokjin. “No, I refuse, I can’t handle this, it’s too much, I forfeit the bet, you have to stop.”
“Hyung,” Jimin says reproachfully. “It’s 2019, boys can wear what they want, you’re being discriminatory—”
Seokjin flushes an even darker red. “It’s not the lingerie; it’s Jungkook in lingerie!”
Jungkook gasps.
“No—it’s—I—I mean—”
“I think hyung likes it a bit too much,” Yoongi says, squeezing Jungkook’s shoulders comfortingly.
Seokjin screws his eyes tightly shut and makes another high-pitched noise. “Jungkook,” he grits out. “If this is what it takes for you to have a safe home environment. Then fine. But I cannot help my natural bodily functions.”
“What do you mean?” asks Jungkook innocently, even though he probably has a fair idea.
“Hyung means that he’s fully hard right now,” Hoseok says, patting Seokjin dangerously close to his crotch. Seokjin swats at him, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.
“Aren’t we all?” asks Taehyung, reaching down to adjust himself. From where he’s standing behind Jungkook’s chair, Yoongi can now see the entire line of Taehyung’s cock clearly under his sweatpants. No one responds.
“Well, I can’t speak for any of you, but I’m definitely getting there,” Jungkook says, after a long moment. He tips his head back against Yoongi, baring the long line of his neck, runs his hand over the growing bulge of his dick under the panties and up over his abs, rucking up the fabric of his dress, then tweaks his nipple and moans.
There’s a flurry of movement and a loud scrape of chairs as everyone falls over themselves to get to him. Yoongi is forced to take a step back as Namjoon picks Jungkook bodily up from his chair and hefts him into his arms. “Bedroom,” says Jin hoarsely, and they all start towards Namjoon’s, which has the biggest bed.
“Wait,” Jungkook calls, and everything screeches to a halt.
“Oh—do you not want this?” Namjoon asks worriedly, making as if to set Jungkook down.
“No, no,” Jungkook says reassuringly, clinging to his neck like a koala. “I just need someone to get the pink bottle from under my bed.” Jimin nods, ducking into Jungkook’s room to get it.
“What is it?” Yoongi asks as they all pile into Namjoon’s room.
“Oh, you know, I bought some stuff online,” Jungkook says airily. “Can you believe this was only 9,000 won?” he laughs as Jimin hands him an industrial-sized bottle of lube. “I don’t know how we can possibly use it all.”
“I think you’ve fully made your point,” Yoongi says, laughing a little himself, and climbs into Jungkook’s lap to kiss his smiling face.