Chapter Text
“I feel very good right now,” Yoongi slurs, arm flopping across the front seat and smacking Namjoon in the chest. “Are you sure the doctors took it out? My… my apendg- apendisis, thing. I feel very good,” he repeats in suspicion.
"That's because they gave you medicine to make you feel good, baby," Namjoon chuckles, holding Yoongi's hand when he won't stop fumbling for it at the steering wheel. Always his intoxicated habit, grabbing Namjoon's hand though normally they hardly ever even hug. He can count their hugs on one hand, at the airport when I went to London last year, when Yoongi bought me that sweater for my birthday, that group picture at the park... though we do always sorta end up squished together watching movies...does that count...?
He's never sure, always gets too flustered at this point in wondering, bombarded by images of doing other things on the couch and the way Yoongi might sigh against his skin. Snapping himself out of it, he glances over at the passenger side.
Yoongi's grinning up to the clouds out the window. "I like when you call me baby," he hums.
"I've never called you baby before," Namjoon laughs. It's funny as hell, his best friend fucked up and silly on post-surgery meds. Hurts a little too, like falling into a daydream of what they could be.
"Yeah you have. In... in my head..." Yoongi trails off happily, eyes shutting.
Smile slapped off his face, Namjoon looks over at him and wonders how much is true and how much is intoxicated babbling. "Have I?"
That fond little tight lipped smile, fingers looping through Namjoon's. "Yup. 'S nice."
They turn on to the narrow side street where Yoongi lives and Namjoon doesn’t have time to dwell on that revelation. A calico cat runs across and darts behind the bright red vending machine where Namjoon has bought countless cokes at 2a.m. He parks in the tiny driveway and turns off Yoongi's car with a quick prayer of thanks that he didn't crash it. He finally got his license a year ago but he's driven all of twice since then.
Yoongi is already giggling when Namjoon opens the passenger door, and it only gets louder when Namjoon reaches across him to unbuckle the seatbelt. “Tickles!” he thrashes.
"Come on, we're home."
A whiny groan when Namjoon tries to tug him out of the car. "You didn't say baby. Say baby, I'm baby," he pouts, useless floppy limbs flying out of Namjoon's grip.
"Come on, baby," Namjoon sighs and bites down a smile. He wonders if Yoongi will remember any of this, if the happiness stretching across his face will linger somewhere in his memory.
Satisfied, Yoongi lets Namjoon help him out of the car, arm woven through his as they shuffle slowly toward the front door. Namjoon punches in the door code and makes sure Yoongi lifts his foot up over the last step.
"Okay, let’s get you up to bed, and then I'll go pick up your medicine for tomorrow."
It's slow going, Yoongi wincing a little in discomfort despite the drugs in his system. Nothing so serious, just a removed appendix, but the doctor said he'd probably have soreness for a few days, maybe an upset stomach.
Namjoon tugs the covers back and sets Yoongi on the bed, wincing in sympathy when Yoongi clutches his belly as he tries to lay back.
"Is that okay? Do you want more pillows behind you?"
"Bed," Yoongi whispers in ecstasy and curls his fingers through the cool sheets.
Namjoon laughs fondly and watches him for a minute, assessing if he's tucked in okay before tugging the blanket over his socked foot. The thought floats to the surface again, what if I lived here, what if I was his in a different way than this.
A nice dream, easy to pretend for a few more minutes, to let Yoongi encourage it in his silly state. "Okay baby, I'll get you some water before I run down to the pharmacy."
His little pouty lips part in sleep already, only the barest frown in response to Namjoon's voice. Namjoon smiles and brushes the hair off his forehead, and just for a moment longer, lets himself pretend.
An hour later, back from the pharmacy with paper packets of pills and Yoongi is still asleep in the exact position he left him in. Namjoon flings open Yoongi's thick blackout curtains, sits down at his desk and opens his laptop to do some work.
He doesn't realize he fell asleep until he's waking up to the sound of raspy little whimpers across the room.
"Joon?" Yoongi pants.
Namjoon nearly falls over himself in his groggy rush. "Yeah! Yeah, I'm here, how you feeling?"
"Hurts," he whines, face in a sickly twist.
"That's okay, it's okay. They said you could have another pill right about now, but you gotta eat something with it."
Yoongi groans in disgust at the idea but nods. "Potato chips?"
"Potato chips?!" Namjoon barks a laugh.
"It's the only thing that sounds okay. There's a bag in the kitchen."
"Alright, I'll be right back. Here, take one of these." Namjoon waits until he sits up and hands him one pill and the glass of water left on his nightstand.
"Potato chips," he announces grandly as he re-enters the room. "Sit up again to eat."
"Noooo," Yoongi whines, a weak arm outstretched for the bag of chips. "I'll be fine, I won't choke."
"No way. You've gone and jinxed it now, you'll definitely choke. Come on, baby," he teases.
Much more coherent than he was hours before, Yoongi's eyes widen but he doesn't say anything as he struggles to sit up again.
Namjoon panics, forgetting it was only okay in the haze of medication, but Yoongi opens his mouth and stares at him. "Feed me chips. If I'm baby."
A nervous wash of tingles down his chest but Namjoon huffs a laugh and sits on the edge of the bed beside him to stick two chips into his open mouth. "Good?"
Yoongi grimaces at his laughter as he tries to force the chips down. "I don't like surgery. Don't wanna do it again."
"Well, hopefully not," he says, holding out a couple more chips for Yoongi to peck reluctantly at. "I'm not sure how many chips are enough chips to eat with pain meds but I guess that's enough. You should be pretty loopy again in a few minutes."
"I've never been loopy," Yoongi grumbles in defiance, sinking back down with the blanket tucked up to his chin.
"Right," Namjoon snorts, walking to the desk to save his work. He shuts his laptop before closing Yoongi's thick curtains and checking for the phone in his pocket. "There's water there if you wake up and need it, and I'll be in the next room, so. Just yell if you need me."
He clicks the lamp off and heads for the hall.
"Can't you just sleep here?"
He stops and stares into the darkness, unsure if he really heard the the tiny words.
"Just sleep here," Yoongi insists in that tone where he sounds mad but he's just self-conscious. "I don't wanna, I- the room's too big and, I- I don't feel good, I just had fucking surgery, can't I just want to not sleep alone this once!"
"Yeah! Fine, yeah that's fine," Namjoon laughs, hugging himself close in the doorway. "Lemme just, ah fuck it." He drops his pants and tugs his hoodie off, good enough to sleep in.
He turns off the hall light and picks his way carefully to the empty side of the bed, sheets a cool, soft comfort. "Why's this bed so nice," he mutters, impressed with the firm cush of the mattress, the silky pillowcase beneath his cheek.
"There is nothing more important in the entire house," Yoongi yawns beside him. Another groan a moment later. "Hurts," he grumbles into the darkness.
"'M sorry, baby," Namjoon yawns in response.
It's quiet. "Did I tell you to call me baby earlier? That's embarrassing."
"Mm, not exactly," he laughs, curled up on his side. "What if I never tell you what you said when you were jacked up on pain meds," he teases.
"Then I'll die of shame," Yoongi says in monotone.
"You can't die when you just survived a harrowing, 30 minute, outpatient surgery."
The blankets shift beside him. "Are you mocking me mere hours after leaving the hospital? This is the treatment the ill and wounded receive? Wow." There's a smile in Yoongi's voice as he complains, turned toward him in the dark.
He grins and lets quiet settle around them again. Easy to pretend here that the banter is flirtation, that any second now Yoongi might lean over for a goodnight kiss, that in the morning he'll wake up to another.
"Seriously, did I make you call me baby?"
He laughs loud into the pillow. "Why, does that sound like something you think you'd do when you're high on painkillers?" he teases, determined not to admit he called him baby himself.
It's quiet, too quiet. No grumbling in response, no laughter, no rustling of the sheets. He fumbles a hand over Yoongi's chest to feel for a heartbeat. "Oh my god, I thought you died."
"Why would I die, it was only an appendectomy," Yoongi says scornfully, laughing as hard as his sore stomach will allow.
"I don't know!" he laughs. “Sick people freak me out, and you always have shit to say and you weren't saying shit, what else was I supposed to think."
"I was thinking, idiot. Trying to remember what I said between the hospital and here because you're a dick and you won't tell me."
"Oh my god, it wasn't anything weird, I swear, I called you baby, you called yourself baby, everyone's baby, goodnight."
A hand smacks him in the face when he tries to turn away. "What'd you call me baby for?"
"Because, you were being a whiny baby."
"What am I being now?"
"An annoying baby," Namjoon laughs.
"Well then call me baby, damn," Yoongi grumbles with a happy sigh, medication finally kicking in a little.
"You made me hold your hand in the car too, you want me to hold your hand?" he says it like it's a joke and hopes it isn't.
"Jesus,” Yoongi mutters in embarrassment to himself, almost too quiet for Namjoon to hear. But then, a breath later, he clears his throat and yawns. “Obviously," he says, wiggling his hand under the blankets for Namjoon's.
"Good night, baby."
Yoongi laughs softly and hums in response.
He wakes in the early morning to groans from Yoongi, their hands still twined together. "Gotta pee," Yoongi announces, moving very slowly to standing and shuffling down the hall.
"Do you need help?" Namjoon asks, voice husky with morning dryness.
"I can hold my own dick, thanks."
Namjoon smiles crooked at the ceiling, eyes falling shut all by themselves as his sleepy brain tries to formulate a joke about holding Yoongi's dick for him anyway.
Down the hall the toilet flushes and the sink squeaks on, water splashing, faint gargle and spit. Yoongi shuffles back in and settles carefully under the blankets with softly hissed curses. A moment of silence and breath, Yoongi slides his hand back around Namjoon's.
At noon, Yoongi is still passed out asleep on another dose of medicine and handfuls of potato chips earlier. Namjoon sits on the edge of the bed and watches him sleep. For not the first or tenth time, he wonders how it would feel to kiss those pouty lips awake, but he pushes the vision away for his caretaking duties.
"Alright lazybones, the doctor said you have to take short walks, remember?"
Yoongi frowns at the sound of voice and tries to bury his face in the pillow.
"Come on, you gotta. This is what I'm here for, to annoy you into taking care of yourself."
With a heavy sigh, Yoongi sits up besides him and squints at the wall. He takes the water Namjoon hands him and downs it, ignoring Namjoon’s snickering at his hair smushed and tangled from sleeping. "I'm so fucking hungry, holy shit."
"I'll let you eat something good if you walk ten minutes."
Slow as snails, they walk to the end of the street and back, Yoongi with his arm looped through Namjoon's for no reason; his balance is fine. Namjoon tries not to grin and pats his hand, buys two of Yoongi's favorite canned coffees from the vending machine and takes him back inside.
"You did it!"
"Did what," Yoongi grumbles, setting himself gingerly on the sofa.
"The bare minimum," Namjoon grins. "So what do you want?" He slides onto the couch beside him with the food delivery app open.
"You're not gonna cook something?" Yoongi says in mock surprise.
"No, what? Why? Just to kick you when you're down?"
"Your cooking's not that bad."
Namjoon shoots him an incredulous look. "Wow, you're nice when you're sick."
Tired head leaned on Namjoon's shoulder, Yoongi scrolls through the list of restaurants. "This one. I want their chicken garlic stew."
He weaves his arms through Namjoon's, eyes shut as Namjoon orders. Namjoon doesn’t know what to do with himself. Yoongi has never been like this, never- well, except when he’s drunk, Namjoon amends. But he’s not drunk now, he took the last of the heavy duty meds hours ago.
"Want the tv on?"
He shakes his head and curls closer.
"Was that a yes or a no?" Namjoon laughs, leaning back to see the head shake.
“Play that Jeebanoff album?”
Namjoon finds it and turns the volume down a bit, scrolling through twitter as Yoongi dozes against his shoulder. Or so he thought, until Yoongi speaks up suddenly after a couple songs.
"When I was a kid, when I got sick I hated it so much. I guess it was seeing everything my dad went through? Even though he was fine in the end, I just... got so scared, even if it was just a stomach flu. I still fucking hate it."
Namjoon pats at his leg and lets his hand stay there, rests his head on Yoongi's and wonders if that's pushing it. But Yoongi nuzzles into him just a little more with an exhausted sigh.
"You're doing good, seriously. It'll be better and better every day and then you can forget about all of it."
"Until I get sick again," he says quietly. “There’s always gonna be another time.” Fears he'd never let Namjoon see before.
"Well, I'll come over then too and be annoying to distract you from it," he laughs.
“Yeah?” A wry chuckle, but that lilt Namjoon knows is genuine.
“Yeah, what else better do I have to do,” he smiles, absently watching a video of kittens playing.
Yoongi tugs his head free and lunges forward to peck a kiss to Namjoon's cheek.
He looks just as surprised as Namjoon does. "Um, thanks." His eyes blow wide and he pouts at his lap.
The drugs are not to blame; the painkillers today are supposed to make him sleepy and that's it. No time to overthink, Namjoon knows what he feels.
Fuck it, he thinks to himself. If he pulls away I can joke it off and die later.
Fast and a little shaky, he turns and plants a kiss on Yoongi's lips. Yoongi does not pull away. Yoongi grips him by the jaw and pulls him in, kissing him back instead of freezing this time.
It tickles down his gut, Yoongi’s pretty pouty lips working slowly against his, perpetually chewed up thumb grazing over his cheek. His Yoongi, his best friend he’s wanted to kiss for at least three years sighs against his cheek and scoots closer.
He cups Yoongi’s face in his hands and kisses him harder, less oops we’re kissing and more thank god, we’re fucking kissing . Their mouths open wider to taste more, shy but needing it, curiosity desperate but deep. Namjoon licks just a little at Yoongi’s irresistible little top lip and Yoongi sighs, twisting forward for more.
“Ow, shit, fuck,” he hisses and clutches at his waist, wounds forgotten in the moment. They laugh nervously as Yoongi busies himself with turning on the couch instead of twisting.
This is the moment that’s scary. No rush of rash desires or misplaced feelings to blame it on if they kiss again. It’ll mean something they can’t joke away.
Namjoon couldn’t stop himself if he tried, lips falling to his in slow motion, eyes open just long enough to see the look of relief on Yoongi’s face. They kiss each other slow, careful affection, tender little movements that speak of the love running undercurrent to their roughness and constant jokes.
Hands cupped around Yoongi’s face, he runs his fingers through his greasy hair and laughs a little at Yoongi’s lack of showering.
“Don’t laugh,” he mutters against Namjoon’s lips. “At least I brushed my teeth.”
They giggle and stare at each other, eyes open to see what it looks on the other’s face when they lean in to kiss, and kiss again, and once more just above Yoongi’s brow, and one there on the side of Namjoon’s small nose.
A minute more and the effort to remain curved this far forward is too much. Yoongi flops back against the couch in relief with a hand on his stomach. He fusses with the edge of his shirt and the bandage beneath it, but his cheeks are pink and Namjoon can’t fight the urge to reach out and touch them.
Yoongi’s eyes flash up to his, surprised and maybe relieved that Namjoon is grinning, just as nervous as he is.
“So are we-? Are we… like…?”
Yoongi huffs a laugh at him. “Like?”
“Like… are you just… horny when you’re medicated or are we like, in love or something,” he mumbles the last part and nearly gasps that he managed to get the words out.
“I would never- I’m a pisces, ” Yoongi says disparagingly.
“You know I don’t know what the hell that means,” Namjoon sighs, no patience now that he’s gone and said “in love” like a fool.
“Me either, it’s just what Jungkook always says,” he trails off, picking at his poor thumb. “What do you mean, are we in love or something?”
The attempt at casual fails, Yoongi’s eyes too wide with a reckless need to hear the answer.
“What do you mean, ‘what do I mean’?” Namjoon laughs, throat tight. Afraid, wanting the percentage of certainty higher before he jumps off that cliff.
Perceptive, more certain or more desperate than Namjoon in some ways, Yoongi notices the way Namjoon scoots just a little closer. “I mean like, are you? Because, because I am, and so you know, if you are too then… then, we are.”
For a second, Namjoon forgets to breathe, staring in an owl-eyed stupor. He blinks, takes in the way Yoongi is searching his face for some reaction, some confirmation. It almost looks as if maybe Yoongi has wished they shared the same feelings for years too.
“Are what?” Namjoon teases, elated, face squished into a big smile at how utterly stupid this conversation is, how important and big and so very them.
“Are in love, you fuck,” Yoongi laughs and reaches for his hand, falling short hardly an inch away, just in case.
Namjoon takes his fingers into his palms, and it’s almost scarier than any of their kisses. “Honestly, I… I figured out a few years ago that I’m probably- that I am, am in love with you. Don’t laugh!” He laughs himself, too nervous to do anything else.
“I’m not! I’m just- happy.”
They grin at each other’s laps, unsure what to say or what the other understands without needing to speak it, whether they should speak it anyway or not. Namjoon frowns and opens his mouth for a moment before talking. “I think I thought you always knew, honestly, and just… didn’t want that.”
“How the hell would I know! And how the hell didn’t you ever- I mean, do you think I hold hands with just anyone whenever I get drunk?!”
“I don’t- I don’t know! You know I’m too stupid to- I’m a virgo!” Namjoon hollers.
“You don’t even know what the hell that means,” Yoongi says, gummy smile and sparkly eyes.
“Neither do you,” Namjoon laughs, always louder than he means to be once he gets worked up. Quiet again, frowns that can’t quite win against the dumb smiles. “So we… we both?”
“Both?” Yoongi says with an antagonizing eyebrow raise.
Namjoon flops dramatically to the couch. “Do not start this again.”
“I didn’t start it, you started it.”
“ You started it, you kissed me first,” Namjoon laughs, but the reminder wipes Yoongi’s love for arguing away and replaces it with a soft smile.
“Yeah,” he says on a quiet breath. “Didn’t think I’d ever actually do that. Stop looking at me,” Yoongi whines when he can’t pretend he doesn’t feel Namjoon’s grin boring into him anymore.
“I can’t! We just- we just fucking kissed,” Namjoon giggles quietly like it’s a secret.
Yoongi rolls his eyes to the ceiling to try to gain a semblance of casual but it doesn’t work, cheeks squished up in a smile. “We could… do it again,” he suggests.
“Yeah?” Namjoon hums.
“Yeah. You gotta come down here to do it though, my tummy hurts.”
“I can do that. Wouldn’t want to… to compromise your recovery,” he babbles nervously, scooting up on the edge of the couch beside Yoongi so he can lean down and press kisses to his lips.
There’s a feeling he can’t quite pin down as their mouths meet and learn each other, a realization so heavy it sinks to his toes and lifts him buoyant into the air. Yoongi likes me this much, wants me this much .
It’s like a mirror, the desire he’s getting feels like the desire he’s giving, and he knows how big the feelings are for him. It’s in the tiniest things, the way Yoongi ghosts a kiss over his top lip or smiles at the tiny tremor in Namjoon’s breath. The yearning slowness when their lips pull apart, the warmth of his hands wrapped around his biceps.
The doorbell rings, and though Yoongi had been ravenous before their walk, he holds Namjoon down for one more kiss before he lets him answer the delivery guy.
Bags of food in hand, Namjoon sits back beside him and sets out little plastic containers of rice and noodles and stew and side dishes.
It's quiet. Too quiet, a scene too familiar for the new Namjoon and Yoongi they've just become. Years of being a different pair of people sitting here on this couch with food and music, a routine well-polished and comfortable. It's jarring; how do couples eat beside each other? How do I act now that he knows I like him?
Chewing is nearly painful, being the only sound in the room. He'd swear Yoongi's chewing funny too in attempt to do it quieter. He turns the music back on and curses when he drops a slice of pickled radish on the floor. Yoongi doesn't even yell at him, and it goes back to the calm horror of chewing and not looking at each other and pretending they aren't not looking at each other.
After a minute Namjoon laughs out loud.
"What?" Yoongi asks around a mouthful of rice, defensive like he's nervous too.
"Nothing, nothing I just- I don't know how to act. I've already been Namjoon who likes you for so long and I, like, stuffed that down into a version that wasn't- like, you know??"
Sure Yoongi was going to make fun of that, but instead he nods in understanding. For a minute, Yoongi thinks, but nothing seems good enough to say. Namjoon can almost extract the words from the look on his face anyway: It's weird. Of course it's weird, it's okay to just let it be weird, maybe.
Slowly, wincing a little, Yoongi scoots over, and a little more, until they're smushed up against each other. He reaches for a bit of seaweed with his chopsticks, determined not to noticed Namjoon beaming down at him.
"You're so-! Fucking cute," Namjoon chuckles, scooting into him though they're as close as they can get. He scoops up another bite of rice. "Honestly. Just, fucking cute all the time."
Yoongi tries not to blush but he's blushing, furiously shoving more food in his mouth. "Told you, I'm baby."
They grin and eat in silence, trying to remember how to do what's always come the most natural in the world- being together. Fine, if they don't figure it out today.
After a few minutes, Yoongi groans and leans back on the couch, stomach clutched in his hands. Lips pouting, eyes big and pleading up at Namjoon as if he could make the pain go away.
"Does it hurt?" Namjoon asks, resting a hand on his thigh, too scared to touch his wounded stomach.
"Just- feel icky. Too much food or, maybe the medicine makes me nauseous..."
"Are you gonna throw up?" Namjoon's voice goes a little panicked, looking for a trash can.
"No," Yoongi's laugh sighs into a pout, arms crossing gingerly over his waist. "Just-"
He reaches for Namjoon's arm and tugs him back against the couch too, wiggling himself slowly under Namjoon's arm with his head laid on Namjoon's chest. He stretches his legs out along the couch, flat enough to keep from pinching his stomach.
"Just gonna... rest a little..."
"Okay, baby," Namjoon grins and tries not to choke on the surge of nerves at saying it again, saying it for real.
Yoongi just makes that pained look of fondness and turns a little more into his chest. Turning the music down a little softer, Namjoon shoves the last bite of rice in his mouth and goes back to scrolling through twitter.
Careful not to jostle him, Namjoon peeks down and scrunches his face up into a grin of ecstasy at the sight of Yoongi's little lips parted, breathing just barely audible. Phone down, he runs his fingers through Yoongi's hair and shuts his eyes. His hair is a little greasy but he couldn't care less, tipping down to press a kiss to the crown of his head and wrapping an arm over the rise and fall of Yoongi's chest.
It's everything he wanted, so sudden and unexpected that he finds himself in panic that it'll slip away somehow. Too easy, too casual. One minute they're that Namjoon and Yoongi, suddenly they're this. And this, he doesn't want to lose to their bad habits of brushing aside awkward conversations.
"You asleep?" he whispers, fingers combing over Yoongi's scalp.
"No," he insists on a deep inhale, voice thick with drowsiness.
"You were too," Namjoon laughs, taking in the sight of puffy-eyed Yoongi sitting up and squinting at him. "Wanna go take a nap?"
Face twisting into discomfort, he nods reluctantly and stands.
Namjoon catches his hand and swallows the lurch in his stomach. "Wait, before you go sleep, I just, we're- we're like, are we...? Are we- god, everything sounds really fucking stupid right now," he exhales.
"In love, or whatever?" Yoongi suggests.
"Yeah. But- no, like, I've already been in love, for a while now and- are we, are we like, can I...? Can I treat you like I'd treat a boyfriend? Instead of my best friend that I unsecretly secretly like?"
He chuckles nervously, unsure why that was harder to say than anything.
"Yeah, you better," Yoongi says, smiling down at him.
"Okay. Okay good. Then, okay. I'll do that, then. You can go sleep," he grins at his lap and drops Yoongi's hand.
Yoongi picks it up again. "You're coming with me," he scoffs, cheeks glowing pink.
He shrugs his big t-shirt back over his shoulder and tugs on his ear, a nervous habit. "I- Namjoon. I want you close all the time. For a long time, a really long time, I've... and now that I can, you definitely are gonna have to take naps with me and hold my hand constantly. I'm sorry, that's just the way it is now, now that- christ, why is this so fucking hard to say," he chuckles, picking at Namjoon's fingernail instead of his own. "Let's be dating, let's just- fuck," he mutters and scratches at his head. "We both- I love you a lot, okay, I want to be your boyfriend. It's not hard if I say it's not; I love you and and I want to be your boyfriend."
Namjoon stares up into his flushed face. "Yeah," he breathes. "It's, yeah." He stares a minute longer, trying to make the moment settle into reality. "Yoongi, I love you."
He says it so urgently that Yoongi has to nod, nervously thinking of something funny to say to soften the intensity, but Namjoon stands up and kisses his forehead. "I love you," he whispers. "Look, even if we don't change that much or whatever, I need you to know, I love you. In so many ways, I love you."
Another soft kiss to Yoongi's cheek when he nods. "Love you too," he mumbles, and buries his shy face in Namjoon's chest. "Let's go take a nap."