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“Please.”
“No.”
“Pleeeaaaase.”
“Taehyung, no.”
“For the love of all that is unholy,” Taehyung tries again, “please. I’ve gone with you to countless subpar mundane bars with musty dance floors that can only hold three people maximum. This place will actually be worth it.”
Yoongi stops patting his face with moisturizer to stare at Taehyung from the corner of his eye. He sighs, blends the lotion into his skin, and turns fully to stare at his flatmate. Taehyung, unfortunately, has his signature pout on. (Yoongi hates the Pout. He hates it with a burning passion.) “I don’t get why you want me to go that bad. It’s a Thursday night.”
“And you don’t have work tomorrow. My kind of bar is open twenty-four-seven, so the last thing you’d have to worry about is last call. Everything is stronger, I’d get you the weakest alcohol, and I would pay for it, and you would have free entry because you’re coming in with me.” Yoongi blinks. Taehyung continues, “You’ve also been complaining about how you haven’t had a chance to go out and have fun in a while, so really, there’s no reason to turn my offer down.”
Yoongi sighs. He knows Taehyung is right, and he has been overworking himself recently, so the best thing for him would be to take a night off, hit the bar, and relax. When he walks out of the bathroom and towards the kitchen, Taehyung follows with his hands in the pockets of his slacks. The digital display above the stove reads 9:47pm.
“You said it’s open all the time,” Yoongi says, turning back to his friend. Taehyung’s face lights up in a smile—he knows what’s coming. “When does it get busy for the night crowd?”
“Right around now, actually. It’s a ten-minute walk.” Taehyung nods in the direction of their balcony, five floors above ground level. “And the weather’s nice tonight. Not too warm, not too cold.”
This happens every time Yoongi tries to say no—he genuinely takes Taehyung’s words into consideration, they have a staredown that lasts anywhere between ten seconds to a full minute, and then he sighs in defeat. This time, the staring contest lasts forty seconds. Yoongi moves into his bedroom and mutters, “Give me five to get changed,” and although Taehyung doesn’t respond, he can feel the guy burning a smirk into his back.
§
This is exactly how Min Yoongi finds himself spending his Thursday night. Escorted by his close friend and resident century-old vampire Kim Taehyung, Yoongi throws back his third shot of moonshine while sitting on a barstool in Nocturne, the dimly lit, poorly named, hidden-to-mortal-eyes bar for the supernatural population to be themselves, away from (most) short-lived beings. Taehyung had left him a few minutes earlier to make his way over to a booth seat, talking to people that Yoongi thinks might be either naiads or sirens. One of them playfully runs a finger down the front of Taehyung’s torso, and Yoongi finds himself tightening his grip on his empty shot glass.
A pair of fingers comes to pry it away seconds later. “Didn’t know we were letting mundies in for the night,” it teases. Yoongi turns around to face the bartender, a tall guy with pink hair and black, Markhor-shaped horns. Something on his face must make the creature laugh, because he follows up with, “Don’t worry, you’re in good hands here. We’re hidden from mortals but we’re not against them coming in.”
Yoongi blinks. “I didn’t think you were going to chop me up and eat me, if that’s the impression my face gave off.”
“Didn’t think so.” He opens his mouth to ask something else, but a voice from across the bar yells Hey, Seokjin! and he sighs. He tells Yoongi to wait a moment—he had to refill a red-skinned being’s pint with a steaming, neon yellow liquid—and returns right away. “So,” he continues, “moonshine. Three shots, inside a small, fragile body like yours. How’re you feeling?”
So maybe Yoongi is aware that talking to another creature about alcohol is a bad idea (after all, Taehyung had told him on the way to the bar that talking to another creature about alcohol is a bad idea) but he does it anyways. “I’m used to this sort of proof,” he finally says, but his words come out a little slurred. “I think I should have one more, though. For good measure.”
The bartender—Seokjin?—raises an eyebrow. “Did you need to work up confessing to that immaculate vampire of yours, or…”
“No,” Yoongi says, all too quickly. “No, I just—I need this. How much?”
Seokjin doesn’t answer. Instead, he turns around, fills a new shot glass up with the same oddly-coloured moonshine, and places it on the bar. He drops a pinch of what looks like silver glitter into it, but Yoongi doesn’t think twice about it. Must be for added appearance—or something. “Consider this one on the house. Enjoy.”
§
And, in the end, this is how Yoongi finds himself thrown over Taehyung’s shoulder on the way home, two hours after they had arrived. Yoongi, even while wasted, knows pummelling is futile against a vampire, but he pummels Taehyung’s back nonetheless. (It makes him feel better about the whole situation.) “Taehyung, put me down! I can walk. I want to go back to Nocturne.”
“Not in this state you aren’t.” Taehyung’s pace doesn’t slow. “You know you almost started a fight with Seokjin, right? He’s not just the bartender—he’s the owner. And a well-known warlock, at that. I can’t believe you let him fix you a drink. You don’t even remember what was in it”—Yoongi agrees with this; when Taehyung asked what was in the drink, all he could say was that it was ‘sparkly moonshine’—“so I can’t even figure out how I’m supposed to take care of you.”
“Why did we even leave the bar—Taehyung, let me down—”
“No,” Taehyung says, “because you also did start a fight with an incubus while I had my back turned. Something about ‘hopping on some bloodless dick.’ The thing would have fucked you and drained your life energy. I hope you know the next time we do this, all you’re going to drink is water.”
Yoongi’s pounding finally stops; as if he wasn’t tired before, he feels like his limbs have become jelly. Into Taehyung’s back, he whines, “But that defeats the purpose of having fuuuun.”
“We did try having fun tonight,” Taehyung counters. “You killed it by thinking you could take on an ancient sex demon.”
Yoongi sighs. They’re quiet the rest of the way back. It’s only after Taehyung unlocks the foyer door, presses the button for the elevator, and the security guard at the front desk doesn’t even bat an eye. No, he tells them to have a good night and enjoy their time together. Even inside the elevator, Taehyung doesn’t let up. On the fifth floor he unlocks the door, takes off his shoes, takes Yoongi’s shoes off for him, and then tries setting him down on his feet. He lasts a total of ten seconds before slinking to the ground, but Taehyung catches him before he can collapse. He sets Yoongi down on his knees, on their tacky little turquoise rug. “Stay here. I’m getting you water.”
“Hmm.” Taehyung lets go of the human gingerly, watching to see if he can hold himself upright, and he does. Right before he can turn to grab the water, though, Yoongi’s gaze shifts to meet Taehyung’s eyes. “Listen,” he starts. If Taehyung didn’t know Yoongi extremely well, he would have thought the guy was sober. “Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you actually are?”
“Oh, Yoongs.” To have Yoongi looking up at him with such an innocent gaze, with cheeks that glow pink from severe inebriation, with eyes that seem to sparkle in the low light of their apartment… Taehyung’s stomach grows warm, but he reminds himself that it’s Yoongi’s alcohol speaking. He doesn’t wait to turn around and grab Yoongi the ice water. “Not this. Not right now. You’re drunk.”
“No, Taehyung. Come here.” The lukewarm water causes the ice cubes to crack. He carries the glass back to Yoongi, still sitting back on his heels in the middle of their living room. “I’m being serious, you asshole. Sit down.”
“Only if you drink your water.”
Yoongi pouts but follows instructions. After he finishes the glass, he sets it on the coffee table with a clatter, but nothing seems to register in his mind except for Taehyung. He trains his eyes back on the vampire and waits, ever so patiently, for Taehyung to sit down directly in front of him. He sits cross-legged, his hands holding on to his ankles, in a sort of nervous anticipation. (He hasn’t been around a drunk Yoongi for long enough, despite living together for three years.)
A full minute passes of what would normally be interpreted as his and Yoongi’s staredown, but something seems different. After the minute is up, Yoongi’s eyes wander away from Taehyung’s eyes, around his hair and the rest of his face, down his body…
“Yoongs.”
“Yeah, just—give me a sec.” Taehyung gives him another sec, and soon enough, he inhales as though preparing for a speech. “You can’t see yourself in the mirror, right? Your reflection doesn’t show up no matter what you do.”
“Right… Where exactly are you going with th—”
“Your face—I mean, you as a whole, really. You’re just…just let me…fuck, wait—” Yoongi’s eyebrows keep furrowing and unfurrowing, seemingly confused by his own words. “Just bear with me, okay? Just let me explain why. I don’t even know what I’m explaining. Can I—this is weird. Can I touch your face?”
Taehyung keeps up his poker face as best he can. He has no idea what’s going on, but he doesn’t see why not. “Sure?”
Yoongi makes an immediate move to Taehyung’s hair. His fingers run through either side of his middle part, pushing back his locks, and they fall back around his face. “Okay, your hair is incredibly soft. It’s this—I don’t know—this surreal ash blond colour. It looks like you dyed it, but it feels so natural. And it parts down the middle and frames your face so well—you can’t even tell what it looks like on mornings when you first wake up. Sex hair. It’s wavy sex hair.”
“Yoongi, why—” Taehyung doesn’t get much farther than that. He runs one hand back through his hair but the other hand’s index finger falls on his lips. Taehyung can feel the blood pumping through it, feel the pulse at the centre of his fingerprint.
“I want to describe you,” Yoongi says. “I want you to get a feel for what I see. I was going to wait on your lips, but I’m already here, so…your lips. So full, so soft, so… pink.” He looks away from Taehyung’s lips to meet his eyes. “How do you get them so pink? Right here”—Yoongi gently rests his finger on top of his cupid’s bow—“your bow is so defined and symmetrical. They arch like…this.” His hand finally threads out of Taehyung’s hair, but both of his pinky fingers start at the cupid’s bow and trace the outer arches of his upper lip.
“Your eyes are interesting,” Yoongi continues. “They’re a very vivid brown. Very earthy. And whenever you talk about things you like, or when you get curious about something, they sparkle bright enough to light up our bedroom.” Taehyung blinks. The warmth that had sat in his stomach grew into his still chest and up to his neck. He knows it’s physically impossible for eyes to light up that much, but how come Yoongi had used that pronoun? They’ve had separate bedrooms since they moved in together. They’re flatmates, not roommates, and Taehyung barely sleeps as it is—his bedroom is technically the guest room. “They’re these perfect little almonds that grow super wide—like they are right now!—but when you’re angry or irritated about something, the aura around your gaze alters completely. It’s very commanding.”
Yoongi moves in closer. Taehyung raises his eyebrows. “Taetae… your eyes remind me of silver. They’re brown normally, but sometimes silver. It’s weird. It’s a good weird. They only turn silver when we’re here, and they’re sparkling right now.” He pauses. “It’s almost like the silver powder that was in my drink.”
The rest of Taehyung seems to warm up just as Yoongi shifts to describing his eyebrows and how they curve perfectly based on the placement of his eyes. It’s all about the inner corner, the pupil, and all that, but he interrupts with: “What did you say?”
Yoongi blinks. “I said your eyebrows—”
“Not about that. About your drink.” Taehyung watches as Yoongi furrows his brows again, clearly drawing a blank, and he bites back the urge to look away because of how hot he feels. “About my eyes.”
“Ah, silvery.” Yoongi closes his eyes and smiles.
“It’s like the powder Seokjinssi put in my drink. Thin, silver, sparkly…”
Taehyung doesn’t try talking to Yoongi anymore—just lets him continue describing his features—but his mind wanders and thinks about how, should Taehyung have had a beating heart still, it would be pounding out of his chest. He doesn’t know what Seokjin and Yoongi were talking about before he returned, but the owner had slipped a dry truth potion into his drink, dissolving before Yoongi could catch it, but supposedly leaving the sparkly aftereffect on the glass touched by the alcohol.
“Taetae,” Yoongi whines. Taehyung snaps out of his thoughts. “Are you even listening? This is your nose we’re talking about. This is the second most important part of your face. The curve of the front dips just enough for the perfect curve at the end of your nose—it’s just so goddamn straight. It’s like you’ve never worn glasses in your life. Maybe because you never needed them. But you’re still attractive with glasses on. Really attractive. I’ve seen the photos.”
Taehyung feels laughter bubble up inside him, but he keeps it down. This night just seems too good to be true on his end—his flatmate is actually telling the truth? About him? “Yoongi, let’s get you to bed.”
“Not yet.” The corners of Yoongi’s lips downturn. “Come closer. This is the important part. You have these flaws in your skin—well, they’re not what I would call flaws—”
“Okay, no. We’re not doing this.” Taehyung tenses up, leaning back slightly. “You’re not sober, your drink was laced—”
“Nope,” he interrupts, popping the p. In the blink of an eye, Taehyung watches his entire face change from soft and pouty to hard and serious. “I don’t care what was in that drink. I want you to let me say what I want to say.”
Taehyung closes his eyes. “Okay, okay. Fine. What else did you want to say?”
“This.” Yoongi leans forward and plants a soft kiss on the back edge of his jaw. Taehyung stares, shocked, at their living room as Yoongi kisses somewhere on his cheek, then by his eye, then his nose. “The moles. Little brown dots on your skin, almost artfully placed. You don’t even know how many you have, but”—Yoongi kisses the spot above his right eyebrow—“I want to point them out to you.”
Yoongi kisses three more places on the right side of Taehyung’s face before pulling back and observing his face as a whole. “You’re beautiful. I don’t want to know how many times I’ve said that. I just want to keep saying it.”
All Taehyung can do is stare at his human roommate. Just as Yoongi’s eyes trail down to his neck, Taehyung gently pushes Yoongi back until he’s sitting on his butt and leaning against the bottom of their couch. “I need to pee.”
“Hurry back, Taehyungie,” Yoongi croons.
Taehyung feels Yoongi’s eyes on him as he makes his way down the hallway. He closes the bathroom door and locks it as quietly as possible before sitting on the covered toilet and pulling out his phone.
The continued ringing made Taehyung anxious, but it disperses into a hybrid of irritation-and-worry when Seokjin picks up. “To what do I owe the pleasure—”
“What did you give him?”
“Give who?”
Taehyung runs a hand over his face. “The human , Seokjin. What did you give the human I brought over?”
“Ah, him.” Seokjin’s laugh rings the way confetti would sound. “He’s cute for a human, isn’t he? You have good taste. I’m surprised you haven’t claimed him as yours yet.”
Taehyung presses his lips together. If blood still ran through his body, he’d be blushing; Yoongi makes him feel all kinds of ways. He’s wanted to claim Yoongi for a long time, but one does not simply bite their roommate and use them as a live blood supply when one cares about the human in question. “I don’t have time for this chitchat. You know what you gave him, and I know there was a truth potion, but there was definitely something else.”
Chatter in the background tells him that Seokjin is still at work. He hears a few pleasantries exchanged between him and his customers in the universal demon tongue. When the pleasantries stop and the sound of ice in a tumbler starts, Taehyung hisses, “Seokjin. ”
“I forgot you were there,” Seokjin says. Taehyung resists the urge to break his phone. “Anyways, I did add a little bit of crushed tiger’s wing, but it’s transparent. Only I would know it’s in there.”
“That’s great,” Taehyung deadpans. He’s heard of tiger’s wing and knows it’s a codename for a type of supernatural herb, but he can’t remember anything past that. When Seokjin doesn’t elaborate, he adds, “What does it do ?”
“Consider it a confession additive.” He hears Seokjin speak to a few more customers. “Not only did I give him a bit of truth so he could stop hiding his emotions the way all humans seem to hide them, but tiger’s wing would help him confess to you only if he has feelings for you.”
Taehyung swallows. “I...see.”
“Has he confessed yet?”
“No, but he has been overtly descriptive in telling me all about my face because I can’t see my reflection. He also won’t stop calling me beautiful.” Seokjin bursts into laughter; Taehyung waits until he calms down, which gives him a moment to analyze the way Yoongi tends to give noticeable affection towards anyone in his life. “Anyways, that’s basically the equivalent of a confession for him.”
Seokjin says something in the demon tongue that roughly translates to an idiom that means this situation is hilarious . Taehyung hangs up on him and flushes the toilet.
“Taehyungie,” Yoongi croons, eyes trained on him when he enters the room, “I’ve missed you. You were gone for so long.”
“It’s okay. I’m back now—”
“I need to finish describing you.”
Yoongi holds one hand out to Taehyung, and Taehyung takes it, but he lifts Yoongi up onto his feet instead. He rises with ease thanks to Taehyung’s strength, but once Yoongi is standing he falls into Taehyung’s chest.
“Yoongi,” Taehyung tries again, “let’s go.”
Yoongi hums in response. He whispers another beautiful boy under his breath. Taehyung grabs his wrist and starts tugging him towards his bedroom, but they don’t walk very far before Yoongi pulls his wrist away.
Taehyung gives him a look. “Yoongi, what—”
“How about no.”
“What—” He turns on Taehyung, flattening the vampire against the wall and sandwiching Taehyung’s head between his two hands. He presses his body against Taehyung, who has grown wide-eyed (and a little smitten). One of Yoongi’s legs makes its way between Taehyung’s legs and rubs against his crotch.
“Taehyungie,” Yoongi says with a smirk, “do you like me?”
He knows what Yoongi is asking, and he knows exactly what type of ‘like’ Yoongi is talking about. but he doesn’t know how much Yoongi will remember tomorrow morning. He doesn’t want to take advantage of the poor human.
Despite all his logic, he finds himself saying, “Yeah—wait, no—I mean—shit, Yoongi, it’s still yes , but—”
Yoongi’s lips find Taehyung’s easily. They don’t move at first—Taehyung is surprised at how Yoongi, even while drunk and drugged, is gauging a reaction before moving further—but it doesn’t take much for Taehyung to part his lips and slot them between Yoongi’s.
Yoongi’s hands move fast after that, detaching from the wall to caress the back of Taehyung’s neck, tracing his frozen veins and the line of his collarbones. One fist wraps itself into his mesh t-shirt, trying to pull them closer as if Taehyung couldn’t already feel Yoongi’s hard-on against his thigh.
It’s nice, Taehyung thinks, especially since he’s never wanted to be so romantically or sexually involved with a human as much as he’s wanted to be with Yoongi. He bends down slightly to grab Yoongi by the thighs and Yoongi wraps his legs around Taehyung’s waist like it’s second nature.
They enter Yoongi’s room like that. When Taehyung tries to break away, he feels Yoongi’s leg muscles tighten around him. Every time he tries to move his lips out of Yoongi’s reach, he gets sucked back into a kiss. “Yoongi—ah, Yoong—Yoo—damn it—hyung— ”
As expected, the honourific gets to him. Yoongi pulls back. The room is dark, but with Taehyung’s vision, he sees Yoongi’s furrowed eyebrows. “You’re two human years younger than me but also decades older. We established this. Why are you calling me hyung?”
“Because I can’t keep doing this while you’re in this state,” Taehyung says. Every word spoken pains him a little more than the last. With a gentle touch, he pries Yoongi’s legs off. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?
“No,” Yoongi says, grabbing one of Taehyung’s wrists—it’s not forceful, only pleading. His voice grew quiet. “Please stay with me.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“That’s okay. Just stay in bed with me. Sleep with me.”
Taehyung looks at the pout forming on the human’s lips. He doesn’t want to say no. “We could’ve gone to the guest bed for that. It’s bigger.”
“We’re already here. Just stay in this bed with me.”
As the pout intensifies, Taehyung’s reserve weakens. He sighs. “Okay, fine . But I’m the little spoon.”
Yoongi smiles and shuffles over to the side of the bed closest to the wall. Once Taehyung’s body follows Yoongi’s in a comfortable curve, he slides one arm around Taehyung’s waist. “Good night, Taehyungie.”
Taehyung inhales and exhales and pretends to have an erratic heartbeat when his still heart rests in his ribcage. He closes his eyes, relaxes his body, and smiles into their shared pillow. “Good night, Yoongi.”
§
“Is this what you want, Yoongi?”
Yoongi’s back arches into nothing, waiting for a feeling he’s wanted Taehyung to grant him since he discovered he was sharing a place with a vampire. His head digs into his pillow and he bares his neck. “Yes. Please , Taehyung.”
He feels a ghosting of lips over his neck and the scrape of incisors, locating the best place on his neck—
“Good morning, sleepyhead.”
“Tae—” Yoongi shoots up in bed, wild-eyed. He catches the outline of Taehyung in the doorwat before the blood rushes to his head and he sees grey. He squeezes his eyes shut. “Ugh. Shit.”
“I heard movement, so I thought you were already awake. You’re usually a log when you sleep. Sorry for startling you.”
“No, no—it’s not you. My head is killing me. Last night is a complete blur.” His vision clears, but the pounding doesn’t dissipate. When he doesn’t hear anything from Taehyung, he tenses. “Please tell me I didn’t say or do anything embarrassing last night.”
Instead of responding, Taehyung hands Yoongi the bowl in his hands. He feels so out of everything—he only realizes it’s hangover soup after he inspects the bean sprouts for a minute straight. He brings the bowl to his lips and drinks, careful not to burn his lips.
“It’s not embarrassing per se,” Taehyung finally says. He sits on the edge of Yoongi’s bed. “You just drank a little too much moonshine— laced moonshine, by the way—and you almost picked a fight at the bar—”
“I did what .”
“—and it just gets better,” Taehyung continues with a growing smirk, as though Yoongi never said anything. “When I brought you back here, you sat me down on the floor and described my looks in excruciating detail—”
Yoongi chokes a little on the soup. He covers it up by muttering about its temperature, but Taehyung doesn’t notice. In one of the many deep recesses of Yoongi’s min, he has always wanted to describe Taehyung’s features to him. It was a shame he couldn’t see his beauty for what it was. To hear that it really happened, however, from the lips of the very supernatural being he was undoubtedly attracted to, was not okay.
“—and then, when I told you to go to sleep, you kissed me. And we kissed. A lot. You asked me to stay in bed with you when I tried to pull away, so I stayed even though we both know I don’t need to sleep.”
Yoongi stares into his soup. The beansprouts were taunting him.
“You also mumbled my name in your sleep after I snuck out of bed to make you soup,” Taehyung adds. While Yoongi may not remember a single detail from last night after entering the bar, he remembers the dream of being claimed as Taehyung’s human. Claimed humans are always recommended over the second option, which is draining an entire person in one go. Taehyung’s managed over blood bank donations, but in another one of Yoongi’s deep recesses, he wishes for Taehyung to bring up the act of claiming to him.
Yoongi takes another long sip of soup. “Weird. I don’t remember dreaming about you.”
“That happens with dreams, doesn’t it?” Taehyung says, leaning back onto his elbows. The knowing smile never leaves his face. Yoongi tries to ignore the warm flush working its way up his neck and onto his cheeks. He continues drinking his soup, faster now, in order to prolong having to respond to the rhetorical question. “You seem distressed.”
“I mean—yeah. I am distressed.”
“Why? You’re a good kisser. Nothing to worry about there.”
Yoongi exhales. He still can’t bring himself to meet Taehyung’s eyes. “Yeah, but you just described everything I said and did, and they were all embarrassing.”
“You asked, I answered.”
Yoongi drains the last of the soup, chewing slowly on the remaining beansprouts. He stares at Taehyung, who stares back with no intention of looking away first. Yoongi gives in and ducks away. “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
“Because of everything that happened last night. It—Everything was a mistake.” Yoongi’s heart doesn’t sit right in his chest, but there’s no way for him to back out of what happened otherwise. He closes his eyes. “That wasn’t meant to happen.”
No response—again. The silence feels like an elephant to Yoongi. When there’s still no words from Taehyung, he opens his eyes and looks at him. Taehyung doesn’t look distraught like Yoongi thought he would; his lips are in stretched thin in a knowing smile. Yoongi bristles. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Your moonshine was laced with supernatural components,” Taehyung says, as though it’s enough to explain his reaction.
Yoongi blinks. “Yeah, and?”
“The two ingredients Seokjin put in your drink were a truth serum and this herb that aids in… confession, if you will.”
“Okay, but why—ah.” Realization dawns on Yoongi like a speeding truck without brakes. He feels his body deflate. His cheeks start to burn. “So you know I am undeniably attracted to you.”
Taehyung lifts a hand in the air and pinches it so that there’s only a millimetre between his fingers. “Just a little.”
“Embarrassment,” Yoongi says. “Pure embarrassment. Kill me now.”
“Yoongi,” Taehyung says, “how dense are you?”
Yoongi furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
No response—again. Taehyung moves to sit up, rolls his eyes, and leans over to Yoongi. There’s a hand at the back of his neck, a thumb lightly scraping his earlobe, and then lips on his, soft and slow. His eyes flutter close.
At least he has enough brain cells left to respond to a kiss, Yoongi thinks. When Taehyung pulls away, he opens his eyes. “Ah. That.”
A vampire smile: pearly whites, pointy incisors. “Dense.”
“Maybe, ah—maybe a little.”
“Anyways,” Taehyung says, clapping his hands together, “now that you know the feeling is mutual and you don’t need to hide so much anymore, how about you get dressed and I take you out for brunch? If there’s anyone who should apologize, it’s me—I shouldn’t have left you alone with Seokjin.”
“Seokjin?”
“The horned warlock from last night. He slipped the magical drugs into your drink.”
At the back of his mind, Yoongi remembers the spiral horns and bewitching face of the bartender. “Ah. Yes. Him.”
“But he doesn’t matter anymore.” Taehyung reaches over to squeeze Yoongi’s hand. “I’ll take you out to brunch, yeah?”
“You’re just going to sit there and watch me eat?”
“I don’t have to eat, but I’m craving American breakfast food. What do you say? Our first date?”
Yoongi’s heart flutters at the thought of going on a real, labelled date with Taehyung, and maybe he knew that was what would get to him. “Okay, okay. Fine. We can go. If you’re offering, it can’t be that bad.”
“I’m glad.” Taehyung stands up. “I’ll leave you to get changed, but I know this one place run by my friend, and she makes delicious food. She’s only part succubus, so it’s not as bad—”
“Okay, no. Stop talking.” Yoongi sets the bowl aside and slides out of his bed. “I’ll get changed and we can go, but I’m picking the restaurant.”
