JIN
Thursday afternoon

Jin sat back against the driver's seat and tapped out an inconsistent rhythm on the steering wheel, whistling something nonsensical under his breath. He'd had a song stuck in his head for a couple of days now but it was just a few notes in a row and he couldn't place it and he was just proud enough not to ask Namjoon what on earth the song was. (Maybe one more day. He'd give it one more day, and then he'd throw his pride to the wind and just sing it for Namjoon once and for all so that he could figure out what it was and maybe have half a chance at getting it out of his head.)

Namjoon had jolted out of the passenger seat - god, had it really been five whole minutes ago? - patting at his pockets (his jeans, his jacket, smoothing his hands distractedly down his hips like that was likely to yield anything) as he tumbled out onto the driveway muttering something about leaving his wallet behind. They were only on vacation for two more days but they were out of a few things and Jimin had been moping guiltily for a day and a half and Jin fully intended on making something exorbitant for dinner in a vain attempt at salvaging things.

But god - they'd never get to the grocery store if Namjoon didn't come back out. Where had he left his wallet this time? Jin dug his phone out of his pocket and pulled out the app that had come linked to the GPS tracker stickers that he'd given Namjoon for christmas, but Namjoon had already pushed the ringer for his wallet on his own phone and Jin couldn't very well ring it a second time.

Jin groaned. Rubbed a hand over his face. Counted to ten.

Opened the door and stepped out onto the pavement.

The sea air was cool on his cheeks and even after his near-death-experience he still liked it. He didn't foresee going swimming anytime soon, but the crisp smell of salt and sand and drying seaweed was refreshing and lovely in the late afternoon with the sun arcing down over the ocean. The world felt calm. Quiet. Pleasant.

He took a deep breath of clean air, and opened the front door—

—there was a sickening thudding noise, like someone slamming their fist down hard onto a wooden table. It echoed through the house, through the living room, through the front corridor, into the tiled entryway where Jin stood pulling his shoes off. Then Yoongi's voice, harsh and rough and furious.

"You've gotta be fuckin' kidding me," he was saying, way too loud. "You've gotta be fuckin' kidding me - this whole time? This whole goddamn time?"

"Look—" Namjoon's voice, stuttered and almost scared. Jin's gut twisted. He shoved his shoe off the rest of the way and tumbled up into the house, nearly losing his balance on the step.

"I'm not fuckin' looking at any goddamn, motherfucking—"

"Babe," Jimin's voice floated in as Jin slipped over the hardwood, "babe, it's okay—"

"This fucker," Yoongi said, slapping his hand down onto the dining room table as Jin rounded the corner, "has been lying to us. For years."

Namjoon was sitting at the head of the table, back bent, head in his hands. Taehyung and Jeongguk were standing next to each other against the wall with their hands tucked behind their backs and their eyes wide. Hoseok was standing next to Namjoon with his face pale and his mouth a thin line. Yoongi was hanging over him (Jimin at one elbow, worried and uncertain) with his face bright pink with shining fury and one hand flat on the table and the other clenched tight, knuckles white... holding Namjoon's wallet open in the air like the damning evidence in a murder trial.

"I can explain."

All of them looked up - and Jin smiled, nervous and awkward as he spread his palms wide in a placating gesture. "I can explain," he said again. "It's not really that complicated."

JIN
3.5 years ago

At first he was pretty sure he was hearing things.

It was wind, maybe. A sigh of wind against the tree outside, whistling a little through the tiny spaces between the window pane and the wooden frame. Maybe it was the house settling, old foundation and old supports and old floorboards creaking against each other in the night. Maybe it was just... maybe it was just his mattress, springs groaning as he shifted in his sleep.

But he lay still. Held his breath. Watched the shape of the trees outside, still on a calm night, and heard the noise again.

It wasn't the wind. It didn't sound like the house settling. He hadn't moved a muscle and it didn't sound the way his mattress did, even as old and broken-in and prone to noisy complaint as it was.

It was a sigh. A hiccup. A quiet little held in sound, like someone trying not to cry into their pillow.

Jin stared up at the ceiling. Turned his head slightly to glance at the time on the red LED readout of his digital clock - god, it was a little past three in the morning and he had a test the next day at eight am - and considered his options.

He and Namjoon had been rooming together for the last year or so. He couldn't remember the date, really - it had started out as Namjoon insisting he take the bed while Namjoon camped out on the floor (just for a little while, Namjoon had insisted awkwardly, just until we get everything figured out) but then at some point another bed had showed up in the already slightly-cramped space, a dresser appeared, Jiho got gradually less hesitant about him until one day he was suddenly referring to Jin as a member of the frat without blinking an eye - but it had been a little less than a year.

In that time Namjoon had probably heard him cry a dozen times. A hundred. With everything that had happened with the Tau Deltas, with his uncertain status here at Beta Tau Sigma, with everything that had happened (that hadn't happened) with Hyosang... Namjoon was a heavy sleeper, but there was no way he'd never once heard Jin cry in the middle of the night. He'd cried too much, too loud, too many times. There was no way.

Even after the second bed had appeared in the room, sometimes in the morning after a particularly difficult night Jin would wake up (puffy eyed and hoarse throated and sometimes even still hiccuping) only to find Namjoon sleeping on the floor next to him rather than in his own bed on the other side of the room. He'd just be asleep - it wouldn't be anything special, he'd just be stretched out on the floor next to him like a dog - but Jin would nudge him awake and ask him why he'd been sleeping on the floor and every time the answer would be the same—

"I woke up," Namjoon would say, shrugging easily. "You sounded like you needed somebody. So I wanted to be nearby, just in case."

It had been a little less than a year, and Namjoon had probably heard him cry a dozen times, a hundred - and Jin had never ever ever heard Namjoon cry in the middle of the night.

Until now. At three o'clock in the morning, in the middle of the third week of spring term, when he had a test at eight am.

Jin found himself very suddenly and very completely awake, staring at the plaster ceiling, completely paralyzed by nerves and indecision. Namjoon wasn't... he wasn't a closed book, per se. He was typically pretty open about his life, about how he felt about things, about his opinions and his emotions and his thoughts. But then - but then he'd also get up in the middle of the night in complete silence to sleep on the floor next to Jin's bed. Just in case. Just in case of what? Namjoon never said why, he only said just in case and shrugged that loose shrug and looked up and grinned at Jin like it was just who they were. Just what they did.

He'd get up in the middle of the night in complete silence, just because he heard Jin crying and he was worried, and now Jin was lying in bed awake at three in the morning and in the bed on the other side of the room Namjoon was crying as quietly as he could into his pillow.

It was like he didn't even have a choice. He'd woken up too many mornings to Kim Namjoon stretched out next to his bed. He'd taken care of Namjoon too many times. Namjoon had taken care of him too many times. There was a choice, sure, but Jin knew that there was really only one viable option.

Jin sat up, as quietly as he could. Swung his legs out from under the quilt and over the edge of the mattress. Stood up. Padded quietly over the floorboards in his bare feet to the side of Namjoon's bed. Swallowed his nerves.

Namjoon didn't mind being taken care of if it was funny. If he was drunk or half asleep or sick. But this was new. This was different. Jin had never heard him cry before, had never seen him cry before. It was three in the morning and even so Namjoon was trying as hard as he could to keep the sound of his sobs muffled in the sound-dampening mass of his pillow. Jin had to do this right. He had to do the right thing, had to say the right thing.

"Hey," he said, voice quiet and rough in the dark. "I can't sleep."

There was a moment of quiet, shocked and still, before Namjoon sucked in a shuddering breath and rolled over so he was nearly pressed up against the wall. "You can't sleep?" he rasped out, voice thick. "You okay?"

"I..." He had to do this right. He had to say this right. "I guess I need somebody," Jin said stupidly. "Can - can I sleep with you?"

A noise in the dark, Namjoon scrubbing awkwardly at his face, Namjoon wetting his lips nervously, Namjoon trying to cool his breathing. "Y-yeah," he said, thumping the mattress a couple of times with the palm of his hand. "Yeah, you - I guess you can sleep here. Isscool."

Jin swallowed. Took a deep breath. Slipped in under the quilt next to Namjoon, trying to stay close and keep his distance at the same time. "Thanks," he mumbled. The pillowcase was damp under his cheek and he pretended not to notice as he reached out cautiously, dragging light fingertips down Namjoon's back through his t-shirt. Namjoon tightened up for a second before relaxing, loosening into Jin's touch like he'd been waiting for it. "I just... I don't know, I heard - I heard a weird noise - probably the house settling - and you know how I get, freaked myself out—"

"Yeah," Namjoon sighed, voice muffled in the pillow. He leaned back into Jin's hand. "Yeah. It's okay. I'm here for you, man."

"Yeah," Jin echoed back. His eyes were starting to adjust to the dark and he could see the way Namjoon was twisted, contorted so that Jin couldn't see his face. "Yeah, you always are. Thank you. You're really good at it. I don't think - I don't know," he stuttered, fingers slowing to a stop, "I don't know if I'd still be in school if you hadn't invited me to stay here, at the house. You're good at... um... at taking care of things."

Oh, god. Oh god. Was that the wrong thing to say? God - he said that and Namjoon seemed to curl up into himself again, took a shaking breath, pressed a hand to his face. Jin flinched and prepared for the worst. And then, out of the dark, Namjoon's voice: "Am I really?"

Okay. Well. That wasn't what he was expecting. "Yeah," Jin replied. "God, Joonie—" Ah, god, he kept messing up. It had been less than a year and he'd started called Namjoon Joon-ah from time to time but lord, Joonie was just so familiar. So familial. "—y-you're great at it. Everyone looks up to you. With Jiho leaving at the end of the term you're, you're the pillar of the house, you're trustworthy and you're a genius and you really care about everyone—"

"I don't know if I can do it." His voice sounded so small in the dark. "I don't know if I can do it. Be president next year, I mean. I'm just - I'm just a kid, Jin, I don't... I don't know how to do this shit, everyone looking up to me and having to do all this stuff a-and being a pillar and making decisions and trying to keep everything chill—"

He couldn't stop himself. (Like before, it wasn't even a choice. It was just the only thing he could do.) Jin tucked in close. Curved a hand in over Namjoon's waist. Pressed his face against the back of Namjoon's neck. Willed his warmth, his heat, the burn of his affection and care and worry to traverse the almost infinite distance between them to soak into Namjoon's being and dissolve the knots of worry out of him. "You'll do great," Jin mumbled against Namjoon's skin. "You'll do so great, Joonie. It'll be hard sometimes but that's okay. It's okay if it's not always easy." He twisted his hand. Found Namjoon's fingers in the dark. "And - and anyway, you've got me. Right?"

"Right," Namjoon breathed, his hand tightening in Jin's loose grip. "Yeah."

"You're not alone," Jin murmured. "You've got me."

"Yeah." A breath. A moment of quiet. "Thanks."

"Go to sleep, Joonie."

"Okay."

JIN
Tuesday night, spring break

Jin rose up into consciousness slowly, carefully, uncertainly. His head hurt. His chest hurt. His eyes hurt. His hands...

He blinked his eyes open, lashes clinging together painfully before he finally forced them apart. He was lying on his side in a room he couldn't quite place, in a bed that wasn't quite familiar, the duvet warm and heavy over him and the pillows a little bit too soft and the room mostly dark but dimly lit by the soft light of a lamp somewhere behind him. He was warm and dry and curled up, and someone was holding his hand.

Jin took a breath to speak but the air caught in his throat and he coughed instead, curling up even tighter into himself as his diaphragm spasmed painfully - and Namjoon was bending over him, curving over him, tightening his grip on Jin's hand and saying something quiet and quick and panicked that Jin couldn't quite make out over the sound of his lungs trying like anything to exit his chest cavity.

After a million years he was able to catch his breath, throat sore and chest aching with the throbbing pain of a thousand bruises, and he rolled over onto his stomach still holding on tight to Namjoon's hand. "Ow," he rasped, eloquent as always.

Namjoon's voice over his head. "You okay?"

"What happened?" Jin remembered ice cream. He remembered Jimin up on that platform. He remembered climbing up the slats like a ladder, he remembered wind in his hair, he remembered the gloing gloing gloing in his ears like from when he was a kid sticking his head under the water in the bathtub.

"You almost fuckin' drowned is what happened." Namjoon's hand tightened even more over his, and there was pressure on his shoulder - Namjoon's forehead, he realized, pushing into him. "Jesus, Jin. You scared the shit out of me. I'm never letting you near the water again."

"I—" He remembered now. The way he'd sucked in that quick, shocked breath when he hit the water. It was stupid but he'd been so surprised by the cold, the unbelievable chill of it against his skin (sinking all the way in to the bone), and he'd sucked in that quick, shocked breath and nearly died. "It's not like I'm going to do that again, Joonie. I'm fine now."

"You weren't fine," Namjoon said, voice quiet in the dark. "You weren't breathing, Jin. You weren't fine.'

"I'm fine now," Jin repeated, rolling over onto his back. God, his chest hurt. "Did you do CPR?"

"You made me get certified when I got elected president, remember?"

"My chest feels like somebody hit it with a million hammers."

"You weren't breathing," Namjoon said again, infinitely more petulant this time. He lay down again next to Jin, lying on his side so he could keep holding Jin's hand. "I couldn't just—"

"It's okay." Jin shook his head. Rubbed a hand over his face. "Thanks. Really." He glanced over into Namjoon's face, shadowed and unreadable, and tried to flash a grin - knowing even as it stretched over his face how cheap and transparent it was. "My hero."

There was a moment of quiet. "You scared the shit out of me, Jin."

And then - in the dark, in the quiet, with his chest hurt and his throat sore and his eyes still stinging from seawater and Namjoon's fingers tangled in his - Jin was struck suddenly, horribly, terribly, by how much he missed Kim Namjoon. This stupid kid. This distractible genius, this absolute goofball nerd dad who worried too much and yet still thought it wasn't enough and he had a short temper sometimes and infinite patience other times and he swore too much and he ate too much and he didn't sleep at the right times and his room was an absolute disaster zone and Jin missed him. He missed him already, he missed him preemptively, he could see the yawning chasm of distance coming toward them on the horizon and even as much as his chest hurt and his throat ached and his eyes stung that promise of distance was what hurt the most.

"I just..." Jin swallowed. "I just wish things could stay like this forever. You know? Nothing more," he said quickly, tightening his hand on Namjoon's palm just in case - a quick squeeze of reassurance. "Nothing less. Just us and the house and the kids."

Silence. Namjoon was turned toward him, lamp behind his head, so Jin couldn't see the expression on his face. "Yeah," Namjoon said finally, voice strangely distant. He twisted his hand awkwardly, threading their fingers together loosely. Carefully. Uncertainly. "Well... I'm not going anywhere."

Jin closed his eyes. Didn't say anything. Lay there in the quiet and missed Namjoon.

YOONGI
Thursday afternoon

"Jimin."

"I'm asleep," came Jimin's voice out of the pile of blankets, nasal and whiny. "Go away."

Yoongi glared irritably down at the bowl of rice and seaweed and seasoned octopus in his hand like it was going to give him some kinda goddamn answer on how to fix this whole goddamn thing. Jesus, it had been a whole day already (hell, almost two days - Jin had tumbled into the sea on Tuesday and now it was Thursday morning) and Jimin was still skulking around like a kicked puppy, shame and self-loathing writ large over his face, refusing food and mostly staying tucked up in the queen-sized bed Hoseok had assigned him - curled up in a nest of blankets and pillows and guilt with just his phone and a few books for company.

He got like this, sometimes. When he didn't do as well as he'd hoped on a test. When the critique on one of his dance routines was just a little bit harsher than normal. God - Yoongi still shuddered to think of the thundercloud of self-loathing that had settled over the house the time Jimin's dance teacher had suggested he try losing a little bit more weight for the showcase.

Usually the rest of the inhabitants of the house would try waiting it out for a day or two (less if it seemed really bad, maybe a little longer if Jimin was still doing things like eating and getting out of bed) until they would eventually come to the unanimous consensus that enough was enough and they'd send in the heavy artillery - which would almost invariably be Jin, armed with a blanket and an animated kids movie and the promise of meat for dinner.

But this? This wasn't something Jin could fix. Jin had said a million times that he wasn't mad. He'd said a million times that it was his mistake, that he'd been the one to slip, that anyway he was fine and everything was okay so no one needed to blame themselves because it had all worked out - but Jimin was still buried in the blankets, wracked with guilt and refusing food.

Yoongi had been in love with Jimin for a truly embarrassing amount of time before they'd ever made it official (before they'd even made it semi-official, kissing uncertainly in Yoongi's bedroom after Hoseok had locked them in together in an ultimately-successful attempt at getting them to talk things out) and he'd known the whole damn time that this was part and parcel of being with Jimin. Hell - it had been the first time that Jimin had come home looking like he'd seen a ghost and shut himself in the room he shared with Tae that Yoongi had realized the unexpectedly high level of concern bubbling in his stomach was more than just brotherly affection.

"You need to eat something," Yoongi said, keeping his voice low. He was bad at this. He was so fucking bad at this, it was why Jin always went in to put the pieces of Jimin's self-confidence back together like a puzzle and Yoongi had always hung back and felt useless. "It's been over a day, Jimin, you've gotta—"

"I'm asleep." The mound of blankets shuddered slightly as Jimin rolled over to press his face into his pillow, muffling his voice. "And I'm not hungry."

Yoongi sighed and set the bowl down on the nightstand before sitting down awkwardly at the edge of the mattress. Raked a hand through his hair. Scratched his scalp awkwardly. God, how did Jin do it? It was just Jin - Jin was their mom for a reason. He knew how to talk to all of them, how to cool Yoongi's temper, how to soothe Hoseok's anxiety, how to reel Taehyung in, how to redirect Jeongguk when he was starting to obsess, how to settle Namjoon with a touch and a look and a quiet word.

He couldn't talk to Jimin the way Jin could. He didn't have the right words. He didn't have the right voice. He was just himself, and he loved the hell out of this stupid self-flagellating kid, and he didn't know what to say - but he tried anyway.

Yoongi pulled the duvet up and slipped in between the sheets, wiggling through the labyrinthine mass of tangled cotton until he found Jimin's heat at the bottom of the pile. It was surprisingly bright under the duvet, as heavy as it was - the curtains were open and the morning sun was beaming in bright through the southeast-facing window and the bright white duvet was just thin enough, just airy enough to let a sort of heavenly glow in under the sheets.

Jimin was lying on his side facing away, shoulders curved into himself in a way that made Yoongi's chest knot up. He was wearing the same light blue t-shirt he'd worn to the pier on Tuesday, the thin fabric soft and stretched out and wrinkled. His hair was messed up and tangled, the back of his neck and the tips of his ears were very faintly pink (from the heat maybe, from the tears Yoongi knew he'd only let out when he knew he was alone), he was shivering a little and his face was pressed into the pillow.

Yoongi touched him gently, fingertips dragging down his spine. Thought hard. "Jimin," he said, voice low. "Jimin, baby. Nobody's mad at you."

"I'm mad at me." God, god, his voice was cracking. "Hyung that was really really stupid and Jin-hyung almost died and if I hadn't—"

"Babe." Yoongi shoved himself up on one elbow and pushed the duvet off to let in some fresh air. "Babe. Listen. It was a mistake. It was an accident. Nobody's mad and everything is okay now and you gotta forgive yourself. Accidents happen. Jin left Tae behind at a goddamn rest stop, for fuck's sake. Tae threw pizza on the roof and Namjoon-hyung nearly fell to his death kicking it off. Hell, Namjoon blew up Jin's goddamn stove. We've all made mistakes." He reached out, smoothed his hand over Jimin's waist (firm and muscular and trim, jesus, it got to him every time) and leaned in to press his lips to the back of Jimin's neck. "It happens. You're not immune. You're okay. You're human."

"It was dumb." Jimin arched into him, voice getting thick and choked up. "It was dumb and I should've—"

Yoongi's hand tightened over Jimin's waist. Dragged him in, rolled him over, kept his grip gentle so that Jimin could pull away if he really, really wanted. Jimin's face was pink and damp with tears, his eyes closed, his mouth tight, and god, god - even here, even now Jimin was the most beautiful goddamn thing in Yoongi's entire goddamn life. So he leaned down. Took a deep breath. Kissed at the tracks around the corners of Jimin's eyes where the tears had marked his cheeks, kissed his eyelids, kissed that tight place of worry between his eyebrows.

"You're a nerd," Yoongi breathed into Jimin's skin, hand slipping under the hem of Jimin's t-shirt to brush careful fingertips over his skin. "And an idiot. And a goofball."

Jimin made a tiny noise in the back of his throat and closed his eyes tighter.

"And I love you," Yoongi sighed against Jimin's mouth. "You're perfect. You're you. I wouldn't have you any other way. I mean, fuck—" He pinched lightly at the softest place of Jimin's waist, not that there was much of one. "You gotta make mistakes sometimes or we'd have to break up cause I wouldn't have half a chance at deserving you. You gotta be at least a little bit of an idiot, to be with me."

"Hyung..."

"Don't." Yoongi pushed himself up, bent down over and kissed carefully along the curve of Jimin's cheek, tasting the salt and sweet of tears on the tip of his tongue. He kissed Jimin's temple, the shell of his ear, ran his teeth delicately over the swell of Jimin's earlobe before moving down to the sharp blade of Jimin's jawline. "Don't blame yourself. Please don't. Nobody's mad at you and everything is okay and I love you and I'm worried about you."

Jimin sighed and tipped his chin up to expose his throat, looping an arm over Yoongi's shoulders. "I'm sorry to worry you, it's not - ow!" His eyes shot open and he fixed Yoongi with an offended glare, slapping a hand over the place on his throat where Yoongi had bit him. "Why the hell—"

"Stop apologizing," Yoongi growled, nosing Jimin's hand away to kiss the place where he'd nipped gently at the thin skin of Jimin's throat. "You don't owe me any apologies, idiot. Just - god, let me just try to make you feel better, okay?"

"I don't deserve to feel—"

"If you want me to stop," Yoongi interrupted, lips pressed to the base of Jimin's throat, "tell me so. And I mean if you really really actually want me to stop. If you're enjoying it but you feel you don't deserve it then just... don't, all right?" He glanced up. "Do you want me to stop? Be honest."

Jimin stared at him for a second and sucked in a shaking breath. "No," he said finally, voice thin. "No, I... I don't want you to stop."

So Yoongi just leaned down into him. Pressed careful lips to his mouth, tongue sliding easily between Jimin's teeth to lick into him and taste him. He'd kissed people before, Jimin wasn't the first person he'd ever made out with by any means, but Jimin was the first person who could drive him just a little bit insane like this. Maybe it was the way he tasted. The way he smelled. The way he rolled his hips and made a high, sighing noise when Yoongi's fingertips slipped under the elastic waistband of his pajama bottoms.

"Jesus, babe." Yoongi's hand trailed up Jimin's thigh, feeling the heat and the urgency in his skin. "Already?"

"You're a really—" Jimin's breathe caught in his throat as Yoongi palmed him easily, long fingers curling into a loose grip. He tipped his chin back and closed his eyes, one hand twisting in the sheet. "Y-you're a really good kisser."

"Mm." Yoongi sat up a little. Hiked Jimin's t-shirt up over his chest so that he could curve in over him and press open-mouthed kisses over the swell of his not-unimpressive pectoral muscles as he began working his hand slow and careful in Jimin's pajamas. "We've barely done anything. Only been together a few months. Just think what else I might be good at."

Jimin groaned, a high desperate noise, and brought a hand up to twist in Yoongi's hair. "I don't even - ah—" He swallowed, rocking his hips up in a stuttered motion that was somehow still smooth and perfect like a choreographed move in one of his dance routines. "I don't even know what all there is, j-jesus - hyung—"

"When I graduate," Yoongi said, twisting his hand easily on the upstroke and drinking in the way Jimin's eyes fluttered shut and his lips parted to suck in a shallow breath in response, "I'm gonna get a job with Jiho-hyung. I'll get a place. You can sleep over, if you want. Whenever you want." Jimin whimpered and shuddered, knees falling apart even further to give Yoongi even easier access. "We can find out what all there is."

"Like - like what?" Fuck, it was adorable how goddamn hard Jimin tried to hold himself together for as long as he could. Yoongi was pretty sure that if Jimin just let himself go he could get off in about fifteen damn seconds but he fought himself the whole way down until he was crazy with it, thick with it, unintelligible and practically delirious before he let himself tip over the edge.

"Like maybe I could fuck you," Yoongi growled into Jimin's chest. He bit gently into the skin and tightened his grip, quickened the rhythm slightly. "Like maybe you could fuck me. You've got an amazing dick - I've thought about riding you, you know that?" He took Jimin's gasp as encouragement and nudged against him, licking a hot wet stripe over one of Jimin's nipples at the same time as he dragged his thumb over the head of Jimin's dick. "I've thought about it a lot."

In the end he wasn't sure precisely what it was that did it - the (very slightly) dirty talk, the drag of his thumb, the vaguely embarrassing confession, the heat of his mouth over Jimin's nipple - or whether maybe it was just everything, everything all at once at the same time, tipping Jimin up to the precipice and then over, jerking and shaking and pulsing his release hot over Yoongi's hand, over his own stomach, arching up and gasping out a moan so thick and heavy that it sounded almost like a sob.

There was a minute or two of almost silence, broken only by the sound of Yoongi's lips on Jimin's skin, Jimin's ragged breathing slowing and sinking after the release. "Jesus," Jimin said finally, voice faint. He pushed himself up on his hands to lean against the headboard and wet his lips awkwardly, prodding at the come splattered haphazardly over his abs. "Yeah. Okay. I think I'd like that."

Yoongi rolled over to grab a handful of tissue before coming back, tossing a couple to Jimin as he wiped off his hand. "Being ridden?" He flashed Jimin a rude grin. "I've heard it can be fun. Both sides of the equation."

Jimin's cheeks went pink and he bit his lips together, focusing intently on wiping himself off. "Y-yeah. Yeah. I think... I think I'd like to find out. About both sides of the equation." He tipped his head back and took a deep breath. "Okay. You're right. I feel better."

"Better enough to eat something?"

Jimin made a face and opened his mouth, but instead his stomach growled threateningly. He closed his mouth quickly, teeth clicking together as his cheeks pinked a little with embarrassment. "Yeah," he said after a second. "Okay, yeah. I could eat something."

Yoongi grinned and planted a sloppy kiss on Jimin's temple. "Pretty sure the food I brought you half an hour ago isn't that good anymore," he said, rolling over to swing his legs off the mattress. "I'll go get you something fresh, all right?" He stood up and paused. "How about you get dressed? Come out and eat in the dining room? I think Tae and Jeongguk are playing Mario Kart again. We could join in."

"Yeah." Jimin rolled over onto his stomach. "Yeah, okay."

Yoongi took a second to wash his hands in the bathroom before wandering out into the hallway, through the living room (Jeongguk and Taehyung absorbed in Mario Kart, Hoseok throwing Yoongi an amused, knowing look over the back of the couch), past the dining room and into the kitchen. "Hey," he called over his shoulder, dumping the rice and seaweed and slightly worse-for-wear octopus out into the garbage before setting the bowl in the sink and opening the cabinet to find a fresh dish. "Where are Jin and Namjoon?"

"Just missed 'em," came Hoseok's voice floating in from the living room, over the utterly betrayed shrieks of a Taehyung who had been hit by a well-timed blue shell. "They just left to hit the grocery store. How's Jimin?"

"Better." Yoongi piled the bowl with rice. Spooned some tuna over it, stuck some seaweed on top, grabbed a pair of chopsticks from the door and making his way back out into the dining room. He set the bowl down, and—

"Did Namjoon-hyung leave his wallet?" he yelled out, picking up the square of folded leather that sat at the head of the table.

"Could be mine," Jeongguk called back. "Check the ID."

Yoongi shrugged and flipped it open, pulling out the ID card. Sure enough, it was Namjoon's: there was a GPS tracking sticker under the front flap that started making a shrill little beeping noise as he opened it, probably when Namjoon had realized the wallet was missing and hit the button on his phone app to find it. Namjoon's photo on his ID was absolutely fucking terrible, it was hilarious - he'd pulled an all-nighter the night before and his eyes were huge with the effort of looking awake, but the end result was just looking like he'd experienced something very illegal and very terrifying.

The front door opened and the sound of Namjoon tumbling back over the threshold floated back through the house just as Yoongi started to slip the ID back into its clear sleeve—

Wait.

Wait, hold the fuck up.

What the fuck? What the actual fuck? This was fucking impossible. Yoongi glared down at the ID like it had offended his mother - his heartbeat whispering in his ears, his pulse ringing in the back of his head, his vision practically tunneling as his senses heightened in some kind of attempt at proving his eyes wrong. There was... there was no fucking way.

But no. The truth of it was staring him right in the face. He'd just been too fucking stupid for the last three goddamn years to recognize it.

Namjoon skidded over the floorboards into the dining room, grin stretching over his face as he saw his wallet in Yoongi's hand. "Ah, thank god," he stuttered, striding forward and holding out a hand. "I thought I left it on the damn pier or something—"

"Hyung," Yoongi said, voice tight, not looking up. Jimin appeared in the door of the dining room, cheeks still a little pink from their slightly illicit activities.

"Don't call me hyung," Namjoon shot back, coming to a stop next to him, still holding his hand out for his wallet. "C'mon bro Jin's waiting for me in the car, gimme my wallet, we gotta go get—"

"Hyung," Yoongi repeated, glancing up and fixing Namjoon with a glare so red-hot and furious that it pinned him down like a butterfly in a shadowbox. "When were you planning on telling us that you're younger than Hoseok?"

There was a moment of silence.

From the living room, Hoseok's voice. "Wait, what the fuck?"

There was a very complicated few minutes. Most of it involved yelling, until Jin stepped into the dining room and said, "I can explain."

All of them looked up - and Jin smiled, nervous and awkward as he spread his palms wide in a placating gesture. "I can explain," he said again. "It's not really that complicated."

"What the fuck," Yoongi spat out, "is there to explain? Namjoon-hy— Namjoon has been fuckin' lying to us since day one—" He stopped short and glared up at Jin, who'd stepped in to take a seat calmly next to Namjoon. "Wait, you knew? This whole time you knew?!"

Jin shrugged and sat back in his chair. "Of course I know," he said smoothly. "Joonie can't drive. Who do you think took him to the DMV?"

"I've been calling you hyung for three goddamn years," Yoongi moaned, pressing his forehead into the table. "You let me call you hyung—"

"He tells you not to," Jin interjected, arching one eyebrow. "Both you and Hoseok. Every single time. Not his fault you don't listen."

"He could've told us how old he is," Hoseok mumbled under his breath, passing a hand over his face.

"It's embarrassing," Namjoon said, finally speaking up for himself. He glanced up, cheeks red. "All right? It's embarrassing. I started university when I was sixteen and everybody made fun of me so I just... let people assume whatever, all right? I tell you not to call me hyung and anyway it's like a house rule that we all call each other by our first names—"

Yoongi sneered. "Yeah and whose bright idea was that?"

"Mine," Jin said.

Everyone turned to look at him except Namjoon, who just stared down at his hands twisted together in his lap. "What?" Taehyung said, saying what they were all thinking.

Jin shrugged. Sighed. "It was before any of you rushed. The founding president, Woo Jiho - when he graduated Joonie got elected to be the president. He was nineteen and worried that no one was going to listen to him so I suggested that we enact a house rule that we all call each other by our first names. Since we're all equals," he added, fixing Yoongi with a Look.

"Is that true?" Yoongi glanced up hotly, trying to force Namjoon to look at him. "What Jin-hyung's saying - it true, Joonie?"

But then there was a noise like a gunshot and everyone jumped. A palm, slapping down hard onto the teak table, possibly even harder than Yoongi's hand had done minutes before.

"No," Jin said calmly, hand out flat on the table in front of him. The tips of his ears were pink. His eyes were dark. For perhaps the first time Yoongi could remember he actually looked dangerous. "You can call him Namjoon. If he doesn't mind, you can call him Namjoon-ah, or Joon-ah. But no one," he continued, eyes dragging around the table with a tangible heat and weight, "gets to call him Joonie. Except for me."

He took a deep breath. Scooted his chair out. Stood up. Leaned forward, plucked Namjoon's wallet out of Yoongi's suddenly unresisting fingers, and nudged Namjoon on the shoulder. "He's still the president," Jin said, voice smooth and eyes downcast. "You voted for him. You put your faith in him. He hasn't let you down. He hasn't even lied to you - you just didn't pay enough attention. You have no one to blame but yourselves. Come on, Joonie." Namjoon glanced up, and Jin smiled - eyes curving sweetly. "Let's go to the grocery store. I'm making beef tonight."

Namjoon stood up in silence. Followed Jin out of the dining room in silence. The quiet was broken only by the sound of Jin and Namjoon struggling into their shoes, opening the door, closing the door. Van doors slamming shut. Engine roaring to life.

A few minutes passed.

"Does anyone else kinda get the feeling," Taehyung said thoughtfully, the first to break the pregnant silence, "that Jin-hyung is actually the one in charge?"

NAMJOON
Friday morning

On Friday morning Namjoon woke up to rain spitting against the window and he rolled over. Poked Jin sleepily on the arm. "Yah. Jin."

Jin screwed his eyes shut. "Nn."

"I'm ready to go home."

Jin sighed sleepily and rolled over, pressing his forehead into the hollow between Namjoon's throat and his shoulder. "Issbeen kinda a big vacation," he slurred, voice loose and heavy with sleep. "Yeah. Yeah. Let's go home. But like..." There was movement against Namjoon's throat, and after a second he realized it was Jin's eyelashes brushing over the skin as he opened his eyes. "Maybe... later. In a little bit." He closed his eyes again and settled a little, wiggling deeper into Namjoon's shoulder. "Sleep more first."

"Okay," Namjoon said, patting Jin awkwardly on the shoulder. "Yeah, you can sleep more."

"Mm." Jin slipped his hand over Namjoon's waist as his breath slowed and deepened back into sleep. "Thanks, babe."

"Okay," Namjoon said again.

It was dark by the time Jin pulled into the driveway back at the Beta Tau Sigma house.

The drive up had been quiet - Yoongi had been all but completely silent since Thursday afternoon, Taehyung and Jeongguk sat in the back hissing over their games, Jimin and Hoseok had both fallen asleep. Traffic wasn't as bad in the middle of the day on a Friday, so they made it in five hours instead of eight, and this time Jin did a quick head count before leaving any rest stops.

Tae and Jeongguk were tasked with unloading the luggage, Yoongi, Hoseok, and Jimin were tasked with getting everything back into the respective rooms, Jin went into the kitchen to start pulling together something to eat, and Namjoon went to grab the mail. It felt good. It felt right. It felt... it felt domestic, Namjoon mused, after nearly a week of weird bullshit and being scared half to death and Yoongi losing his shit and everything going weird. But they were back, and everything was back to normal, and what was it that Jin had said?

I just wish things could stay like this forever. No more. No less.

Namjoon was beginning to wonder if he wished that exact same thing. The no more was starting to get to him - that morning Jin had sighed against his throat and said thanks babe and Namjoon had found himself so fucking comfortable with it that it almost hurt. God knew if Jin would ever, could ever return that same feeling of comfort and home, but... but Namjoon was beginning to wonder, that was all.

As it was, being home felt good. Checking the mail felt good. Getting back to normal felt good.

Back in the kitchen Jin was in his bright pink COOKING MAMA apron puttering around starting water boiling for ramen when Namjoon dumped the huge stack of mail on the kitchen table. "There's some stuff in here for you," he said, scooting a couple of catalogs and a single yellow envelope across the table toward Jin. "I think the rest is junk, but I gotta sort through it."

"Yeah," Jin said distractedly, dumping a measure of sesame oil into the water before wandering over and picking up the few pieces of mail with his name on them.

After a minutes the water was boiling and steam was starting to billow upward. Jimin and Hoseok tumbled into the kitchen and started digging through the fridge, Yoongi following close behind with his hands in his pockets. "Hey," Yoongi said, glaring at the stove. "You havin' Joon-ah watch that again? After last time?"

Jin was just staring at the envelope in his hands. It was a little bit battered, like it had gotten stuck in a mailbag somewhere, and he was just staring at it. Namjoon glanced down at the envelope then up into Jin's face, pausing for a second as he shuffled through the rest of the mail that had built up over their week away - junk mail, bills, something from the library that looked worryingly like an overdue notice for the book Namjoon was pretty sure was buried in his room somewhere - and nodding at him. "You gonna open it?"

"Yeah," Jin said quickly, voice distant. He fumbled with the envelope for a second, fingers struggling with the corner before finally finding purchase and ripping it open carefully. "Yeah, I'm - I'm opening it, I just—"

But he'd pulled the letter out and unfolded it. The now-empty envelope slipped from his fingers and he didn't seem to notice. He flipped over the first page to the second and scanned it more and more hurriedly, eyes skimming over the words.

Namjoon set the mail down on the table. "Jin. What's up?"

"I've been..." Jin swallowed. Looked at the first page, then the second, then the first again. "I've been accepted. Invited. Into one of the most prestigious post-doctoral programs out there. In..." He blanched. "In the capital."

Namjoon felt his lungs constrict traitorously. "Like in Seoul? That's - that's not too far, we can still—"

"No," Jin interrupted, not looking up from the letter. "Not Seoul. Washington DC. I've been accepted into the FDA's post-doctoral program. In the United States."