Chapter Text
“Don’t forget your sunscreen,” Seokjin calls out as he sorts through his suitcase, taking out the folded t-shirts. Namjoon’s suitcase is beside his, contents half-strewn out onto the sheets in an abstract imitation of a Pollock painting. Seokjin dutifully but lovingly begins to sort through them on Namjoon’s behalf, smoothing out the wrinkles in the crumpled sleeves.
“Did I pack it?” comes Namjoon’s muffled call from the bathroom, over the sound of running water.
Seokjin frowns, unzipping the side pockets of the suitcase. He finds a half-eaten granola bar, a tube of chapstick, and a pair of sunglasses he isn’t entirely sure Namjoon has ever worn. He pushes them to the side to join the rest of the mess, searching for the missing sunscreen.
“I told you to bring it,” Seokjin murmurs. There’s the sound of footsteps behind him and then the sound of the door opening as Namjoon steps into the room. He leans over his belongings, wiping white toothpaste foam from his lips as he shakes his dripping hair away from his face like some kind of oversized puppy.
“I might have forgotten,” Namjoon says sheepishly, looking at Seokjin through overgrown bangs. When he pushes his hair back, the water droplets flick onto Seokjin’s skin, reminding him a little of a golden retriever, just with less grace. He watches with amusement as Namjoon stumbles over the edge of the carpet and makes a panicked sound over the toothbrush jammed in his mouth.
“You’re not using mine, it was sixty dollars,” Seokjin warns. Holding his swimming trunks up to his waist, he sighs and tosses them to the side, beginning to strip in the middle of their hotel bedroom. The air conditioning is frigid against his thighs, making goosebumps rise on his skin.
“S’okay, I don’t need it,” Namjoon mutters back, spitting into the sink and rinsing his mouth.
“You do. Don’t try to tell me you don’t. You cook like a lobster in the sun.”
Namjoon just shrugs at him innocently, pulling up the hem of his suspiciously damp shirt and tossing it onto the increasing pile of mess on the bed. After almost eight years of marriage, nudity has become more comfortable than erotic between them, and any shyness Seokjin’s had about stripping down in front of Namjoon has long faded. Still, he can’t resist squeezing Namjoon’s ass when he walks by him to stand in front of the mirror, smirking at the flustered look that takes over his husband’s features.
“You look good,” Namjoon says, wrapping his arms around his waist from behind as Seokjin adjusts the elastic of his swim trunks until they’re flush against his hips. Seokjin can feel the warmth of Namjoon’s bare skin through his shirt, molten and hot. It sends a warm current through Seokjin’s body.
“Really?” he muses, leaning back into his husband’s embrace. Namjoon hums into Seokjin’s neck. “You don’t think we look too much like two dads on vacation?”
Namjoon chuckles, deep and husky. “No. What does that even look like?”
“Leather sandals, car keys hanging from your belt, and a pair of Oakleys on your forehead?”
“It’s a good way to make sure you never lose your keys,” Namjoon defends himself, but pointedly doesn’t acknowledge his sandals. “Aren’t dads hot these days anyway?”
“Sometimes it’s nice to look young,” Seokjin says, gently stepping out of Namjoon’s arms to reach for his socks. He won’t deny that Namjoon’s dilf-y quality is part of what attracted him. “Gonna be a lot of college kids at the beach now that it’s summer vacation for them.”
“You look younger than they do,” Namjoon insists. It’s flattery, but Seokjin blushes anyway.
Like the worn, leather seat of a bicycle, their dynamic had softened around the edges over time, sanding away the parts that were vulnerable or delicate. The exhilarating rush of the beginning had moulded into focusing on companionship, and with companionship, he’d gained someone he knew better than anyone else.
He sees it most when he’s helping Namjoon get ready for the beach — swiping moisturizer down his back where he can’t reach and combing back his hair in the way he likes but doesn’t know how to do on his own no matter how many times Seokjin tells him. He’s Namjoon’s partner in every aspect of the word. It’s an invigorating feeling.
The two of them had made the yearly trip back to California to spend a week with their friends before the season was over, but they always come a day early to have it to themselves, appreciating the comfort of their own company more and more with each year.
“Do you think the college kids will make the beach too busy?” Namjoon worries. In the back of his mind, Seokjin wonders when college students became kids to them.
“I hope not,” Seokjin says, grabbing his bag for the beach and throwing it over his shoulder. His chest feels warm watching Namjoon struggle into a fitted t-shirt, the fabric stretching taut over his pecs. He lets himself stare instead of offering to help because he enjoys the view. “But we normally go later in August when the rush has died down. If it’s too crowded we can always come back later.”
“Let’s grab breakfast first, I haven’t eaten.”
Seokjin nods, walking to the door in the hope that it’ll compel Namjoon to move faster. “I don’t think we’ve ever woken up in time for the hotel breakfast buffet.”
Namjoon just smiles at him, his cheeks filling with his grin. He leans in and pecks Seokjin on the mouth, flicking off the light in the room. “Sleep is too good, and the breakfast tastes better when you pay for it.”
Belatedly, Seokjin realizes he’s the only one with his wallet and Namjoon is leaving the room empty-handed, but he just smiles because the kiss made him tingly and follows Namjoon down through the elevator to the lobby, pulling out the directions on his phone when he sees Namjoon making a wrong turn down the road.
Seokjin offers to grab them both burgers, but Namjoon gets distracted by the street lined with tacky shops aimed at tourists, so he gives into Namjoon’s begging and walks the two of them down the tourist strip, weaving through the sea of tanned, shimmering bodies and the smell of suntan lotion. It’s peak LA summer, and the glamour of the city shimmers in the heat, making the asphalt ripple in front of their eyes. The air stings with salt and smog, but the glitter of the water’s surface softens the artificial brilliance of the boardwalk.
When Seokjin’s shirt begins to get sticky with sweat and his nose tinges pink with the beginnings of sunburn he lowers his sunglasses over his eyes, squinting through the yellow haze of sunlight at the flickering neon lights that buzz suffocating heat even during the day. Namjoon pleads for an ice cream, so Seokjin holds two melting chocolate cones in his hand as his husband collects seashells along the edge of the boardwalk, ignoring the sticky sugar that runs over his fingers. He bites his tongue when Namjoon doesn’t wipe the sand from his hands before taking his ice cream, licking the melted chocolate from the waffle cone.
“Thanks, babe,” he mumbles, wandering across the sand towards the water. Seokjin aches to feel it on his legs even though he knows it’ll feel just as icky as the city air.
It turns out Namjoon was right because the beach is flooded with tourists — mostly teenagers — spread out under umbrellas or on beach towels. Long tanned legs and skimpy bathing suits are scattered along the edge of the water, and Seokjin has to duck to dodge a volleyball tossed in his direction. It’s overwhelming and disorienting in classic LA fashion, but Seokjin has lived in big cities too long to be intimidated by it.
“They have cheeseburgers here,” Namjoon says, his mouth gaping as they pass a small stall with a line-up of at least twenty people. Smiling, Seokjin rests a hand on the small of Namjoon’s back and guides him along, his feet already burning on top of the sand.
“I asked you if you wanted them earlier,” Seokjin comments. “You ignored me.”
“I didn’t want them earlier,” Namjoon says.
Seokjin hums. “Well, if it isn’t the consequences of your own actions.”
Namjoon ignores him, tugging his arm as he points at something directly into a beam of sunlight. “Jin, there’s a store that sells souvenirs!”
Seokjin sighs, exasperated. “We’ve been here every summer for almost a decade. What would we need a souvenir for? Getting a souvenir for visiting LA is like getting a souvenir from your dentist.”
“Don’t you wanna send Yoongi a postcard?”
“He’ll throw it out,” Seokjin chuckles but stops anyway so Namjoon can get a better look at the store. It’s a small red shack that looks like it used to sell surfing equipment, the old logo still visible underneath the fresh coat of paint. The door is left ajar, which makes him think there probably isn’t air conditioning. He really hopes Namjoon doesn’t make him go in.
“No, he won’t,” Namjoon argues. “He’s lying if he told you he does. I know he keeps them all in his desk drawer. He likes them.”
“You wanna go inside?” Please say no .
Namjoon looks at him pleadingly. “Just for a minute.”
Distantly, Seokjin wonders when he stopped being able to resist Namjoon’s begging but just nods silently, letting Namjoon lead the way into the store. The floorboards creak under their feet and the humidity is thick enough to make Seokjin’s hair stick to his neck in the worst kind of way, but he tries not to think about it as he steps further inside. He wipes the sweat from the sides of his face, letting his eyes adjust to the dim lighting of the building.
Everything about it screams tourist; from the shelves lined with cheap stuffed toys to the overpriced t-shirts hanging on the wall. Seokjin picks up a small glass figurine of a dolphin covered with dust, quickly disguising his expression when he sees the price. He places it back down gently, looking around for his husband before he gets lost in the store without him.
“What are you hoping to find?” Seokjin asks, watching Namjoon sort through a bin of colourful plastic rings.
“I don’t know, I always just end up leaving with just a postcard anyway,” Namjoon admits, his eyebrows furrowing.
Seokjin looks away in disinterest, picking up a small glass bottle. “They sell jars of sand here. You could take it home and put a plant in it.”
Namjoon looks over curiously. “Are there plants that grow in sand?”
“Shouldn’t you know?”
“What do I look like, the plant expert to you?”
“I’d hope so, with how much I spend on your bonsai collection each year,” Seokjin quips back. “What about your seashells? You could put those in a jar instead.” He looks down pointedly at the bulge at the side of Namjoon’s sea-shell filled pockets he knows must be completely filled with sand. He tries not to think about how much of it will end up in bed with them.
The bickering comes easy — a natural back and forth that the two of them slip into without thinking. They stand beside each other, elbows brushing lightly as they look through the small figurines and tacky decor on the table. The store is filled with the quiet hum of the pop coolers behind them and the drone of the ceiling fan above. Seokjin picks up a squishy koala toy and holds it up to Namjoon an inch from his nose.
“Here, get this. It’s you.”
Namjoon grins and searches through the bin for something, pulling out a different plush toy. “Here’s one for you. We can match.”
Seokjin squints at it. “A rat?”
Namjoon falters, looking down at the toy in his hand. “What? No. It’s like, a hamster. A mouse.”
“Oh, so a fancy rat, then,” Seokjin says, pretending to look angry.
“Can I help you two with anything?” comes a bored, monotone voice from behind them. Seokjin flinches, and Namjoon nearly drops the jar of sand, almost shattering it into a thousand little expensive pieces. Seokjin dies a little inside because he knows he would’ve had to pay for it if Namjoon broke it. He turns around to come face to face with an annoyed-looking kid with a nametag on — the only evidence he works there since, on instinct, Seokjin would assume he’s too young to be working in a place like this.
“We’re just looking,” Seokjin says politely, offering a tight smile.
The kid raises an eyebrow, his tongue pressed into his inner cheek. Seokjin can see the movement, subtle and irritated.“Right, well if you need anything let me know,” he says in a tone that suggests he’d really rather they didn’t. He points at the jar of sand in Namjoon’s hand. “Maybe don’t pick those up unless you plan to buy them. I don’t really wanna sweep up broken glass if you drop it.”
Wow, okay, Seokjin thinks, taken-aback. He resists biting back with something snarky, instead checking the employee out, taking in long, dark hair, styled in front of his eyes in beach waves that look too perfect to be natural.
The kid’s skin is darkened a warm shade of honey from the sun, and when Seokjin lowers his eyes he can make out lines of dark tattoos running up the boy’s right arm. His tan contrasts with the bright white of his shirt — a cropped lifeguard’s jersey cut so low at the neck Seokjin can see his chest. The kid stretches, adjusting the elastic of his shorts that hug against his thighs.
“Your boss lets you go to work dressed in that?” Seokjin says before he can stop himself, and the boy’s eyes darken. Seokjin’s eyes only have a moment to flicker down to see soft abs and the sparkle of a belly button piercing before the kid opens his mouth again.
“Yeah, what about it?” the kid snips, looking at Seokjin challengingly. “Wanna call him and ask? I can give you his number if you want.”
Stunned silent, Seokjin doesn’t have a response, but the kid doesn’t seem to be looking for one because he looks over at Namjoon, who has coloured pink with embarrassment, carefully setting the jar back down. Seokjin doesn’t miss the way Jungkook gives Namjoon an appraising once-over, his eyes dragging up his body until they make eye contact, his lips tugging up into a sly smirk. The hostility melts away from his face and he takes a step closer, startling Namjoon into backing up clumsily into the shelf behind him.
“Do you need help with anything?” the kid asks, interest sparkling in his big eyes.
“No, I’m just browsing,” Namjoon says quietly. “Like we said.”
“I’ll be at the front if you have any questions,” the kid says to Namjoon sweetly, so much different from the way he’d just spoken to Seokjin. “I can also gift wrap anything you buy. I’m pretty good at it.”
Namjoon flounders. “I don’t doubt that,” he stutters. It’s already easily the most painful interaction Seokjin has watched him have in weeks.
“My name is Jungkook by the way,” the kid smiles, sliding his hand into his pockets. It looks cocky and arrogant, but Jungkook must know it looks good on him. “Not that there’s anyone else working here, I guess.” He doesn’t look at Seokjin.
“Thanks,” Namjoon says, but it comes out sounding like a question. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Jungkook just gives him a lazy grin and walks away, grabbing one of the candies off the shelf as he circles back to the cash register. Seokjin stares at his back as he leaves, too speechless to think of doing anything else because what the hell was that?
“Fuck, I think you just got hit on,” Seokjin says when Jungkook is gone, still too worked up from the exchange to move. “Badly, but he tried.”
Namjoon looks confused. “Really? You think so?”
Seokjin thinks he’s joking at first so he laughs, then his smile quickly disappears when he sees that Namjoon is serious. “Didn’t you see the way he talked to you compared to me? He was definitely into you.”
“I’m a little old for him I think,” Namjoon laughs, looking flustered. “But it’s flattering. I don’t think he meant anything by it though.”
“It would be cute if he wasn’t an asshole,” Seokjin says flatly. “I don’t think he knows you’re married.”
“I think he’s the youngest person to ever hit on me,” Namjoon laughs, but secretly looks pleased.
“Don’t look too happy about it,” Seokjin teases. He smacks Namjoon’s back playfully, but inside he prickles a little.
He knows Namjoon is too oblivious to pick up on when he’s being flirted with so his denial doesn’t have any implications to it, but Jungkook had a way of getting under Seokjin’s skin with just a few words. The way he looked at Seokjin was meaningful — his large, round eyes glittering with something mischievous as he looked at them both like they were all playing a game.
Seokjin has never been a jealous person, and maybe it’s his stinging pride after being talked down to by someone half his age, but he suddenly feels possessive over Namjoon — wanting to flaunt him over the kid who looked so eager to have his chance. It’s cruel and childish maybe, but Seokjin feels bitter.
Namjoon eventually picks out a stack of postcards for Yoongi and an ugly ornament of a crab, and Seokjin tries not to let his irritation show on his face when they approach Jungkook sitting with his feet up on the counter, a cherry sucker hanging out of his mouth. He’s on his phone as they approach, a video playing loudly through the speaker, but his face lights up when he sees Namjoon. He swings his feet down to the floor and stands and leans forward until his bare stomach is pressed against the edge of the cash register, his messy hair falling in front of his eyes. The piercing in his belly button shimmers, drawing Seokjin’s eyes to the small stud.
“You found everything okay?” Jungkook asks Namjoon, tossing his cracked phone carelessly beside the lottery tickets. He licks up the length of the candy before tucking it into his cheek, picking up the stack of postcards. Seokjin notices he has tattoos on his hands, too.
“Yes,” Namjoon says. “Could I get these wrapped, actually?”
Jungkook nods, looking pleased. Seokjin’s eyes narrow. “Do you have a colour in mind? This is my favourite part of my job.”
Suddenly the room feels stifling, and Seokjin can’t wait to get outside even if there’s no reprieve from the heat on the shoreline. There’s something about the store that’s unbearable, the back of his neck prickling uncomfortably with sweat.
“Do you have silver? Or green?”
When Jungkook pulls the sucker out of his mouth, his lips are swollen. He licks them slowly, noticing Seokjin’s gaze. He smirks again. “Yeah. Lemme get it for you.” Seokjin expects him to leave the room and step into the back, so he’s disappointed when Jungkook pulls a roll of wrapping paper out from under the checkout counter, dropping it onto the counter. “I can do ribbon, too.”
“Sure, that’d be great,” Namjoon says, and Seokjin dies a little inside.
“Are you staying here long?” Jungkook asks, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. Two matching silver swords dangle from his lobes and a small silver hoop hangs from his helix.
“Seokjin and I are staying here for a week,” Namjoon says.
Jungkook looks up. “Seokjin?”
“Me,” Seokjin says, fixing Jungkook with a glare. His husband, he wants to add.
“Oh,” Jungkook says, shrugging it off, and Seokjin really begins to get annoyed that Jungkook doesn’t look the least put-off. “I’m here for two months because I live in the city. I actually kind of hate the beach because the water is dirty here and everyone just leaves their trash on the sand, but I get free ice cream for working here and my boss doesn’t give a shit what I do, so it’s not bad,” he explains. “I don’t think there’s anything that he’d fire me for, except maybe stealing.”
Namjoon laughs awkwardly, but Jungkook doesn’t look put off, only encouraged.
“Are you in college?” Seokjin asks. A subtle jab at Jungkook’s age.
Jungkook doesn’t look at him when he answers. “Yeah, I’m in my final year for music. It’s cool. I like doing freelance stuff on the side better, though.”
“You’re twenty-two?” Namjoon asks.
Jungkook shrugs. “Yeah. Do I look older?”
“Younger, actually,” Seokjin says just to annoy him, and it works because Jungkook narrows his eyes.
“I was gonna say you looked twenty-five, but now I guess I’ll be honest and say you look closer to thirty,” Jungkook says rudely.
“You’d be right to say that,” Seokjin snaps back, watching the way Jungkook’s eyes grow rounder for a moment before he masks his expression again. “I’m thirty, he’s twenty-eight.”
“Oh,” Jungkook breathes, looking between them. He doesn’t look put off, just stunned. “I didn’t expect that. You look good for your age. Really good.” Seokjin would be flattered if Jungkook wasn’t just looking at Namjoon when he said it.
“Twenty-eight isn’t old,” Namjoon says, his cheeks tinging pink.
“It’s not,” Jungkook agrees, his voice laced with something suggestive. He takes his time wrapping the ornament, folding the paper neatly. Seokjin is bitter when he realizes Jungkook was being honest when he said he was good at it.
“Still, I think… I’m a little too old for you,” Namjoon says gently, rubbing the back of his head shyly.
“I don’t think so,” Jungkook says, not looking at all discouraged. “We’re both adults, aren’t we?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Namjoon gently declines.
“Why not?” Jungkook whines, shameless. He looks surprised by Namjoon’s rejection, like he was sure he was going to get a yes.
“He’s married,” Seokjin butts in, feeling satisfied when he sees the shock colour Jungkook’s face. “To me.”
“Oh,” Jungkook says softly. He glances down at Namjoon’s ring finger like he’s seeing it for the first time, swallowing at the sight of the thin silver band. Seokjin almost feels a little guilty when he sees Jungkook’s crestfallen expression until he remembers who he’s feeling bad for.
He makes a point to flash his matching band when he takes the wrapped ornament from Jungkook just to be an asshole, smiling smugly. “Sorry about that.”
Jungkook shakes away the look of disappointment, looking at Seokjin properly for the first time with something sharp in his eyes. He glances back down at the wedding rings for a moment before his eyes find their way back to Seokjin’s face. “I see. Married...”
“How much do I owe you?” Seokjin asks, swiftly sliding his credit card out of his wallet and tapping it against the counter to get Jungkook’s attention.
“Forty dollars even,” he says without looking at the prices, and Seokjin takes pride in seeing him look so flustered. But then, like it never happened, he’s back to looking arrogant.
“Come back soon,” he says when the payment goes through, his voice dripping with syrup. Seokjin can’t tell which one of them Jungkook’s talking to, and he can’t keep back his astonishment when he hears the words. “We have really good ice-cream.”
Before Seokjin can say something nasty, Namjoon picks up the postcards and guides him out through the door, ignoring the cheerful goodbye Jungkook calls out after them.
♥
“Namjoon got hit on by a teenager,” Seokjin says to Jimin when he passes him a beer, leaning back in his chair. The sun is a hazy smoulder against a bright blue sky, warming the rippling gold sand under their feet. Seokjin kicks off his sandals, digging his toes into the soft ground as he stretches out his legs. A few hours have passed since their visit to the souvenir shop, and Seokjin and Namjoon eventually ended up finding their friends tucked into a corner of the beach away from the other tourists.
Namjoon takes a seat beside him, his thighs a delicious sight when his shorts slide up his legs. He spreads them wider, soft muscle spilling out at the sides when he leans forward to grab a can of pop out of the cooler, drawing Seokjin’s eyes in. He feels charged after what happened with Jungkook. On edge.
“Really?” Jimin asks, turning around to give them a bewildered look.
Namjoon rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “No, he was twenty-two. He thought we were younger than we were. And single.”
“He thought you were single,” Seokjin corrects.
Jimin laughs as he pulls his shirt up and over his head, tossing it down onto his beach towel. “Was he cute?”
“He was a kid,” Seokjin frowns.
“Aren’t you flattered?” Jimin asks. “It means you still look like you’re in college.”
“That’s what I tried to say,” Namjoon agrees. He leans back, taking a long sip. “I bet he was embarrassed when he found out I’m actually married.”
“He didn’t look all that discouraged once he saw our rings,” Seokjin says darkly, chugging his beer a bit too quickly. “If anything, he looked even more interested.”
Hoseok approaches them, his arms full of snacks. He lets them fall to the ground at his feet, pulling Seokjin and Namjoon into a hug even though they’re both sitting down, narrowly causing Seokjin to drop his drink. The reunion isn’t as dramatic because Hoseok had spent his entire flight asking Seokjin over text message how to make a margarita from scratch. “Glad to see you two could make it.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Seokjin says blandly, with forced enthusiasm, even though he likes their yearly trips to the beach more than he’d ever be willing to admit. “This is home now.”
The annual beach vacations had become something of a habit, even before Seokjin got married and integrated a shy, anxious Namjoon into their straggly little group. It started out as a one-off thing — Seokjin, Hoseok, and Jimin had spent a week in a cheap hotel near the boardwalk as students wanting to taste freedom, and it had quickly become the thing Seokjin looked forward to most at the end of the season, even if he’s long outgrown the rundown hotels and greasy truck foods San Diego has to offer.
“That’s really depressing,” Hoseok laughs. “What’s worse is that I’m thinking of buying a house out here.”
Seokjin raises a beer to toast him. “That’s what I’m saying. This place has a charm to it.”
Hoseok pushes his hair back, sun-tanned and gorgeous in a white button-down and denim shorts. He’d grown his hair out more — a mop of silky, dark hair across his broad forehead.
“Anyway, what were you saying about Namjoon getting hit on?” Hoseok asks, dabbing sunscreen onto his cheeks.
Seokjin rolls his eyes. “A student working at a gift shop thought Namjoon was his soulmate.”
Hoseok hums. “Namjoon has always given off dilf vibes. Maybe he just wanted a father figure.”
“Fuck off,” Namjoon groans.
“Did you let him down easy?” Jimin asks. “That had to have been devastating. Bet he had wedding flowers picked out and everything.”
“He’ll survive,” Seokjin says unsympathetically.
Hoseok laughs. “Anyway, I may have brought someone along with me this year. Well, he brought himself because he moved to the city this year. I was too nice to say no because he looked so excited to come.”
Seokjin raises his eyebrows. “Is he staying with us?”
Hoseok winces. “He might tag along a little if that’s okay. I can tell him to get lost if you want.”
“Is he nice?” Namjoon asks.
“He’s cute,” Hoseok smiles, which isn’t a yes. “He used to get into a bit of trouble when he was a teenager but now all he cares about is school. You’ll like him, he reminds me of Seokjin when he was younger.”
“Cool,” Seokjin shrugs, having no idea what that means or if it’s a compliment. He reaches for the bag of pretzels because empty calories are better than nothing. “When do we meet him?”
“He’ll be here in a few minutes, he’s just waiting to get off of his shift at work,” Hoseok explains. “He works the morning shift so he has the afternoon free.”
“Awesome,” Seokjin says, though inside he doesn’t really care. He’d be more annoyed, but Hoseok has a habit of bringing along strays. “C’mere, Joon. Lemme get your back with the sunscreen before you go in the water,” he says, digging through his bag for the bottle, even though he’d warned Namjoon that he wouldn’t share any of his own.
Obediently, Namjoon stands, scuffling across the sand to sit down cross-legged in front of him. He lets Seokjin pull his shirt up and off, revealing an expanse of soft, honey skin. The sight makes Seokjin’s mouth go a little dry, and he’s hit with the sudden urge to touch . He warms the sun lotion in his hand before swiping it across Namjoon’s lower back, working the cream into his skin.
Being the only married couple in the group, Seokjin has always acted carefully about his chemistry with Namjoon, even if Jimin and Hoseok didn’t do the same. Approaching his thirties, Jimin still DJs at nightclubs and dates loosely and freely, while Hoseok doesn’t date at all aside from his hook-ups, but Seokjin has always thought there is something private about being married. Something he isn’t supposed to show everyone else.
He wonders sometimes if he’d transitioned too quickly into adulthood and lost the part of himself that lets him be reckless and uninhibited in the way that his friends are.
“What are we doing today?” Seokjin asks, dropping a kiss onto Namjoon’s shoulder when Jimin and Hoseok aren’t looking. Despite his thoughts, he knows he made the right choice — he just wishes there was some way he could have both. But that would be being greedy, wouldn’t it?
“I’m still jet-lagged, so probably just swimming and playing catch-up. If we’re lucky we can even have a fire here when it gets dark,” Hoseok says, waving to someone across the beach.
“Sounds good,” Seokjin says, pulling away his hands now that Namjoon’s back is covered in a translucent, white sheen. He wipes them on the sides of his shorts even though he knows it’ll stain.
“Oh, there he is,” Hoseok says happily, waving his arm in the air.
“Hi, Hoseok,” comes a breathless call from across the beach. Seokjin doesn’t bother to look up, shaking sand out of his hair as he digs through his bag for his sunglasses.
“JK!” Hoseok yells back. “Come here and meet my friends.”
JK sounds out of breath when he finally reaches their group, and Seokjin finally looks up when Hoseok wraps an arm around his shoulder, jostling him.
“Seokjin, this is my cousin I was telling you about. Jungkook, this is Seokjin.”
“Sorry I took so long, the person who works the shift after me was late,” Jungkook says with a laugh, his eyes still focused on Hoseok. Seokjin stares dumbly for a moment, calibrating before the realization sets in that Hoseok’s cousin is the same kid who hit on his husband in front of him. It takes him a minute because he doesn’t quite believe the universe would do something so awful to him.
Perilous mistake, he realizes.
“Jungkook,” Seokjin says flatly, which is still a thousand times more enthusiastic than he feels.
Jungkook’s eyes widen imperceptibly when his gaze meets his. “Oh,” he says eloquently, faltering. Seokjin would be amused if he wasn’t also wearing the same expression.
Hoseok looks between them. “You two know each other?”
“Jungkook is the kid I was telling you about earlier,” Seokjin says with a dazzling smile, offering his hand out for Jungkook to shake. Jungkook is too stunned to refuse, offering Seokjin probably the weakest, most awkward handshake he’s had in his life. “Small world, isn’t it?”
Hoseok’s face is blank for a second, then his expression twists into anger.
“Jungkook? That was you? What were you doing hitting on a married man twice your age?” he scolds, gently smacking the back of Jungkook’s hair. Jungkook has the decency to at least look guilty, wincing and rubbing his head where Hoseok hit.
“I didn’t know he was married…” Jungkook whines, squirming away when Hoseok goes in to grab him.
“So if he wasn’t, the fact that he’s almost thirty makes it better?”
“Ah, I didn’t think he was that old,” Jungkook says shyly, his cheeks going red. “He looked younger.”
“You’re hopeless,” Hoseok says, shaking his head. Then he turns to Seokjin, apologetic. “I’m sorry my despicable cousin tried to ruin the sanctity of your marriage. I’d say he’s sorry he did it, but that would probably be a lie so I won’t bother.”
“Hyung,” Jungkook protests quietly but gets ignored.
Seokjin wants to say something snarky, but he knows better than to be bitter when Hoseok is around. “It’s fine,” he says, even if it’s really not. “It happens.” Does it?
Hoseok looks relieved and Jungkook just looks flustered. Seokjin notices that he’s still dressed in his work clothes, sweaty and damp from the heat. When Jungkook goes to wipe his forehead, he uses the edge of his shirt, drawing Seokjin’s eyes to the alluring curve of his waist. He swallows, forcing himself to look away.
“Is it really okay, Seokjin hyung?” Jungkook asks innocently, and Seokjin tries not to flinch at the friendly title. It feels disrespectful coming out of Jungkook’s mouth, even when it’s supposed to be polite.
“Sure,” he says easily, standing up to find Namjoon before Jungkook gets to him first. “You’re young — you didn’t know any better.” The snide quip doesn’t go unnoticed, and Jungkook’s eyes narrow with annoyance just long enough for Seokjin to catch it. Then, the look disappears and Jungkook goes back to wearing his over-confident smirk, sitting down on one of the coolers. He rests his elbows on his thighs as he opens a can of soda, shaking his head at Hoseok’s offer of a beer.
“Cool,” is all he says.
“No boyfriend this summer?” Hoseok asks, and Seokjin is thankful for the change of topic.
“Nope,” Jungkook says, popping the p. “No girlfriend, either. I’m a little young for that, aren’t I?”
“At twenty-two?” Hoseok asks doubtfully.
Jungkook shrugs with a sleazy grin. “I don’t want to get tied to one person. Not in the summer, anyway.”
“I was twenty-two when I married Namjoon,” Seokjin says pointedly, even though he’s not sure what he’s trying to prove.
“Eight years is a long time,” Jungkook says thoughtfully.
Seokjin blinks. “It is.”
“I think I’d get bored after eight years of marriage,” Jungkook muses, tilting his head.
Seokjin tightens his grip on his beer. “I didn’t.”
“Jin,” Namjoon says from behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder. Seokjin tenses for a moment, before he remembers to relax. “I found a good spot for swimming. It’s away from the crowds if you wanna go. Oh! Hello.”
Seokjin watches as Jungkook’s expression goes a bit starry-eyed. “Hello,” he echoes, his mouth falling open.
“You again. How did you end up over here?” Namjoon asks, perplexed. He looks between Jungkook and Seokjin, like he expects to find the answer floating between them.
Jungkook gives him a lazy smile, gesturing over to Hoseok, mischief replacing his infatuation. “I’m his cousin,” he says, like that explains everything.
“I see,” Namjoon says awkwardly. “Well, nice to meet you again, I suppose.”
Jungkook just nods dreamily, and Seokjin feels his eye twitch.
“Can I call you hyung?” Jungkook asks, standing up like he’s planning to follow them to go swimming. He chugs the rest of his soda, crumpling the can loudly in his hand.
Namjoon looks at Seokjin pleadingly, silently asking for help, but Seokjin is too busy glaring daggers into the side of Jungkook’s face.
“Sure, I guess,” Namjoon shrugs. He turns to Seokjin. “Wanna come? I’m dying to cool off.”
“I can come too,” Jungkook offers, digging his toe into the sand. “I’m not doing anything.”
“Yes you are. Jungkook, come help me with the chairs,” Hoseok calls, stealing Jungkook’s attention.
“ Why? ” Jungkook whines. He looks annoyed but jogs over to help his cousin anyway, not without throwing a grin and a peace sign over his shoulder back at the two of them. Little seems to truly stick to him — everything slides off and away like it doesn’t affect him at all. Seokjin wonders if he was like that too, when he was in college.
Probably not. He’s never met anyone like Jungkook before.
“Wanna go?” Namjoon asks questioningly, staring at Seokjin like he’s trying to read something on his face. Seokjin quickly masks his expression, not wanting to be caught thinking about Hoseok’s cousin.
“Sure, he agrees with a sigh, suddenly feeling very tired. Maybe he’s more jet-lagged than he thought. “Let’s go.”
He comforts himself with the reassurance that Jungkook probably won’t stick around longer than a day or so, even with his adoration for Namjoon.
♥
Jungkook does not, in fact, go away after the first day like Seokjin hoped he would. Instead, he’s taken to lounging around his group of friends shirtless — tattoo sleeve on full display and legs spread wide in sweatpants that hug his thighs obscenely. When Seokjin and Namjoon got back from swimming, Jungkook had spent the day at the beach eating their food and showing Hoseok how to catch a fish with his bare hands, then followed them back to Jimin’s apartment without waiting for the invitation to have dinner with them. Now, a day later, he sits on the couch in the living room of Jimin’s apartment again, crunching loudly on a bag of salt and vinegar chips he stole out of the pantry.
Despite his free-loading tendencies, both Jimin and Hoseok dote on him, giving in to Jungkook’s puppy eyes when he asks for money for food or a change of clothes. Jimin finds the kid cute, but Seokjin doesn’t think there’s anything cute about the way Jungkook purposely wears his towel low on his hips after a shower and does his workouts in the living room when Seokjin is watching TV.
It’s only been one day, but Jungkook has made it a point to speak to Seokjin as much as possible, even when Namjoon isn’t around to see it. Seokjin expected Jungkook to be withdrawn or embarrassed after their poor first impressions, but if anything it seemed to encourage Jungkook more, even when Namjoon isn’t there to witness it.
Namjoon, thankfully, seems to be oblivious to it. On the other hand, it makes Seokjin anxious because it means he’s the one noticing Jungkook instead. To acknowledge Jungkook at all feels wrong, even when the kid has made every effort to be noticed.
“Hyung, can you pass me the remote?” Jungkook says, patting vaguely in Seokjin’s direction. He lounges back against the leather, tapping his fingers against the remote. Seokjin doesn’t recognize the show he’s watching, but the sound carries to the kitchen, a constant reminder that Jungkook is there with him.
“I don’t know where it is,” he says flatly, unmoving from where he stands in front of the sink, chopping fruit. He brings the knife down harshly, the metal echoing against the cutting board. He doesn’t really need to be doing it, but he’d do anything to avoid sitting beside Jungkook on the couch.
“Can you find it for me?” Jungkook yells over the TV.
“I’m busy,” Seokjin says sharply.
“Nevermind, I found it,” Jungkook mumbles.
The group had gathered for a night of drinking and swimming down at the beach after nightfall. Namjoon had gone for a walk through the building’s gardens while Hoseok and Jimin had made a run down to the grocery store to pick up liquor, leaving Jungkook and Seokjin alone in Jimin’s flat. The silence had quickly become stifling, then it became unbearable when Jungkook filled it with his talking.
“Did you ever go to parties when you were in college?” Jungkook asks, pausing the show he was playing loudly on the TV to focus his attention on Seokjin.
“Yes.”
“Really? You don’t look like the type,” Jungkook laughs.
Seokjin can’t keep the scowl off of his face. What’s wrong with this kid? “What do I look like?”
Jungkook’s grin turns cheeky. “Old. Boring.”
“Yeah? That’s why you’re hanging out with us instead of your friends?” Seokjin retorts.
“Oh, I didn’t mean Hoseok and Jimin. I just meant you,” Jungkook says airily. He chews another mouthful of chips, brushing crumbs off of his lap. “Have you ever gone surfing?”
“No,” Seokjin replies bluntly.
Jungkook sighs. “Might go this year. Never too late to learn. Maybe Jimin will pay for me.”
“Wouldn’t doubt it,” Seokjin mumbles.
Jungkook looks like he wants to say something again, but Seokjin quickly cuts him off by turning on the tap at the sink to drown out his words. He spares Jungkook one last withering look before it goes quiet again and Seokjin is allowed to finish cutting the fruit in silence. In some ways the silence is worse because then he’s left with his thoughts that are irritatingly also about Jungkook.
An hour can’t pass quickly enough before the front door slams open and Namjoon enters the room, looking between the two of them curiously like he can feel the tension in the room, Jimin and Hoseok trailing behind him.
Innocently, like the conversation never happened, Jungkook gives Namjoon a wave before turning back towards the TV, finally relaxing against the cushion to watch his show.
Namjoon looks between them, frowning. “How was it alone with Jungkook for awhile?”
The two of them have always been honest with each other, but Seokjin decides it’s not worth telling the truth to Namjoon this time, so he gives his husband a reassuring smile and laces their fingers together. “Never better.” Then he turns to Jimin. “What did you guys pick up?”
“Just alcohol. We can mix the drinks before we walk down to the beach so that we don’t have to make them when we’re there,” Jimin explains, dropping the bags in his arms onto the counter.
“Sure,” Seokjin agrees easily. “I finished cutting up the fruit, anyway.”
Namjoon rubs Seokjin’s back when he squeezes past him to walk to the refrigerator, pulling out a can of ginger ale. Seokjin watches him drink, feeling a foreign heat bloom in the pit of his stomach when he sees the way Namjoon’s throat bobs with each swallow, his shirt pulled tight over his chest. After their first night off the plane yesterday, the two of them had gone to bed without having sex, too exhausted to think of anything other than sleep, but now Seokjin feels on edge in a way he doesn’t normally feel, wishing at that moment he was alone with Namjoon so he could press him up against the fridge and touch him.
“Excuse me,” Jungkook suddenly murmurs beside his ear, his bare hips brushing against Seokjin’s back. Seokjin feels goosebumps rise on his arms from the contact, feeling like he’s been caught in his thoughts.
Jungkook leans against the counter and picks up a wedge of lime in his hand, dipping it in the jar of sugar before biting into the sour fruit. It should be gross, really, but Jungkook has an infuriating way of making everything look sexy.
“Mm, these are good,” he mumbles, closing his eyes as he sucks. He grins mischievously, licking the sugar crystals off his lips like he knows how it looks. Seokjin feels filthy for finding it sensual — the way his tongue glides over his skin, leaving it glossy and wet. The heat in his stomach returns, only guiltier. He watches Jungkook take another bite, sucking softly at the rind with hooded eyes until it’s clean.
“Aren’t they too sour?” Hoseok frowns.
Jungkook shakes his head, making his overgrown bangs fall into his eyes. Seokjin wonders how he manages to see with them. “They’re sweet when you dip them in sugar.”
“How are you liking your classes, Jungkookie?” Jimin asks, unscrewing the lid of a bottle of Grey Goose and peach schnapps. Jungkook watches him interestedly, though Seokjin notices the difference in the way Jungkook stares at them compared to him and Namjoon — the way his sweetness comes out more genuine and his eyes carry a different shine. He wonders why he’s the exception.
“They’re whatever,” Jungkook shrugs. “I can’t wait to be finished with them. I already have an apprenticeship at a small music studio lined up anyway.”
“That’s good,” Hoseok says happily, pulling Jungkook into a side-hug. Jungkook squirms out of his grip. “What do they want you to do there?”
Jungkook steals another wedge of lime before Hoseok can stop him. “Mostly secretary kind of stuff, but if they like me they’ll let me help in mixing beats. I’m also allowed to use the studio for my own music, whenever it’s not booked.” He tries to look disinterested, but Seokjin can tell he’s secretly pleased.
“My little cousin is all grown up, isn’t he?” Hoseok says with a smile. “I’m happy for you.”
Jungkook just shrugs shyly again, hiding his face behind his hair.
“Namjoon works as a music producer,” Hoseok says. “He could probably help you out. Teach you some stuff.”
Namjoon flushes under the sudden attention. “Oh, I don’t know if Jungkook would want me to be his mentor.”
Jungkook looks up, suddenly starry-eyed. “I would. I’d really like that.”
“Maybe Jungkook could do some part-time work for you as well,” Jimin suggests. “To fill out his resume.”
“You’d do that, hyung?” Jungkook asks, shy and cute.
“I could look into it,” Namjoon shrugs.
Looking perky again, Jungkook grins, hooking his chin on Jimin’s shoulder as he pours orange juice into a pitcher. He makes eye contact with Seokjin as he speaks, his expression coy. “Where do you work, Seokjin hyung?”
“What?” Seokjin asks numbly.
Jungkook hums, popping a cherry into his mouth. Seokjin sees the way the juice stains his tongue a wine-red, spreading over his lips. It’s like Jungkook moves his tongue intentionally slower when he catches Seokjin looking. Seokjin hates that it’s not the first time he’s caught him. “Do you work in the music industry, too?”
He shakes his head. “I work in real estate.”
Jungkook loses interest, peering closely at what Jimin’s pouring into a pitcher. Seokjin unsuccessfully tries not to let it bother him. “Put orange slices.”
“Oranges don’t go in this,” Jimin frowns.
“Put them anyway,” Jungkook insists. “They look pretty.”
He seems to remember Seokjin is there because he looks up again, biting his lip. “Jimin’s really good at making drinks.”
“I know,” Seokjin says.
Jungkook nods, taking a slice of orange out of the pitcher. “Have you ever had sex on the beach, Seokjin hyung?”
“What?” Seokjin asks sharply, feeling his cheeks warm.
“Don’t be a brat,” Hoseok scolds, whacking Jungkook’s arm.
“The drink,” Jungkook clarifies, looking satisfied by his reaction. “Jimin’s making it. Have you ever had it?”
“No,” Seokjin replies humorlessly, embarrassed and angry that he’d reacted exactly as Jungkook wanted him to.
Jungkook smiles lazily, rolling his head on his shoulders. He steps back, the dark lines of his tattoos glassy with sweat. “It’s really good. You should try it one time. Peach schnapps, vodka, and orange juice”
“Go get dressed,” Jimin says, rolling his eyes. He smacks Jungkook’s ass when he passes him, heading towards Jimin’s bedroom.
“Ah, hurts, hyung,” Jungkook whines, pretending to wince, but he giggles when he shuts the bedroom door behind him.
It’s quiet for a moment, the hum of the ceiling fan buzzing in Seokjin’s ears, then Jimin speaks.
“Wow, you weren’t joking. He’s uh, really taken to you two, huh,” he says meaningfully, twisting the cap on the bottle before tossing it into his beach tote.
“Me?” Seokjin asks. “I don’t think so.”
“He likes Namjoon for sure,” Hoseok says. “Want me to talk to him about it?”
“No,” Namjoon says before Seokjin can answer for him. “Let him be. It’s an innocent crush. Maybe even less than that. He said himself that he’s not looking to date anyone.”
“Yeah, but you guys are married,” Jimin says. “Jungkook should really know better. I don’t know why he’s acting like this.”
“He’s a kid,” Hoseok says, but he still looks doubtful as he says it. “He’ll get over it. Let me know if he goes too far, I’ll make him stop.”
Seokjin stays quiet throughout the conversation. He tries to shake off the emotions as he finishes packing for the beach, tossing a few more beers than he’d normally plan on drinking into his bag. An itchy, uncomfortable feeling begins to grow under his skin. He can’t explain it, so he blames it on Jungkook.
Namjoon looks like he wants to say something to him, but must decide not to because he simply hands Seokjin his shoes and kisses his cheek soothingly, running his hands through his hair.
If Jungkook is watching when Namjoon does it, then Seokjin chooses not to notice. Seokjin notices him silently putting on his shoes and backpack as he follows them out the door and to the elevator.
The beach is vacant when they arrive — the sun beginning to fall behind a shield of sticky red and gold clouds. The water ripples crimson, lapping up against the shore to stain the sand a rosey pink. Seokjin breathes in the crisp, salty smell of the ocean, the wind combing the scent of it through his hair until it’s messy and tangled. A few scattered tourists’ conversations carry from the boardwalk, the sound of their laughter light and happy over the wind.
Jimin finds a secluded beach behind a wall of palm trees and sits down on the sun-warmed sand, stretching out his legs with a sigh. Hoseok gets up to find driftwood for a fire while Seokjin and Namjoon spread out a blanket, grabbing themselves each a seltzer.
Jungkook has been unusually quiet, staring off at the water a couple meters away from the group. He lays down on his back, staring up at the sky where the moon is beginning to come into focus, filling the sky with a milky glow. Seokjin catches himself staring and quickly averts his eyes before he’s caught.
“Let’s get drunk,” Hoseok says happily, swallowing back a bottle of peach soju. He flops down beside Jungkook, ruffling his hair. “Let’s be young like Jungkook tonight.”
“I don’t want to help you guys back to the apartment when you’re too drunk to walk,” Jungkook grumbles, but he accepts a bottle for himself. “Let’s go skinny dipping.”
“Fuck that,” Hoseok laughs. “No way.”
“Chicken,” Jungkook grins. “I bet Jimin would do it with me.”
“What would I do?” Jimin asks, tossing an armful of wood down onto the sand. He lights it with an igniter, watching the flames lick up the sides of the logs.
“Get naked in the ocean with me,” Jungkook says, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Nice try,” Jimin says. “Get me drunk first and then I’ll consider.”
Seokjin loses himself somewhere between his third and fourth bottle of seltzer and then switches over to vodka shots, wanting to build the floaty feeling past being tipsy. Namjoon is more laid-back — only on his second beer — but a kiss to his neck and a bit of coaxing from Seokjin has him drinking more than he normally would’ve. Seokjin notices him starting to sway when he tries to stand up to get himself a bag of chips, stumbling cutely on the sand.
“Oh…” Namjoon says with an embarrassed laugh.
“Sit down, I’ll get it for you,” Jungkook says. Easily into his sixth shot, the alcohol has made him more subdued and relaxed, flushing his chest and cheeks pink. “What kind?”
“The party mix,” Namjoon says. He thanks Jungkook quietly when he hands it to him.
“Let’s play a game,” Jimin says, uncrossing his legs to toss another piece of driftwood into the fire. The flames lick at the air, the smoke making Seokjin’s eyes burn. “What do we play?”
“Should we do ice-breakers since Jungkook is here?” Hoseok asks, leaning back on his elbows.
“What kind?” Namjoon asks, wrapping an arm around Seokjin’s shoulder. Seokjin leans into it, closing his eyes. The warmth of the fire feels nice against his cheeks in contrast to the cool air coming off of the water. It’s easier to let his guard down around Jungkook when he’s drunk, laughing easily at his jokes and letting himself smile.
“We could play Never Have I Ever,” Jungkook suggests.
“God, it’s been at least ten years since I’ve played that,” Jimin laughs. “Okay, whatever, let’s play. If you’ve done something someone says, you take a shot of soju.”
“Jungkook will lose,” Hoseok snickers.
Jungkook just grins, looking confident. “I’ll go first. Never have I ever gotten married.”
“Fuck you,” Seokjin says eloquently, but takes his shot. “That was a cheap move.” It burns going down his throat and he winces. Namjoon does the same, quickly chasing it with a mouthful of soda.
Jungkook shrugs. “Cheap shots aren’t off-limits.”
“That’s awful,” he mutters, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
“My turn,” Jimin announces, holding up his hand. “Never have I ever had sex in public.”
“I told you that as a secret,” Jungkook whines, covering his mouth with one hand. “It was one time!”
Namjoon furrows his brows. “You had sex in public? Did you get caught?”
Jungkook just shrugs and doesn’t answer, taking his shot. Seokjin’s chest fills with heat.
“I’ll go next,” Hoseok says. “Never have I ever hit on someone that was married.”
“Stop picking on me, I’m already gonna be wasted,” Jungkook laughs, taking another shot, but he looks secretly pleased to be getting the attention.
Seokjin looks at Jungkook thoughtfully. The drinks make him uninhibited. Curious. “My turn.” He thinks for a moment as he plays with the sand, swirling it between his fingers. “Never have I ever hooked up with a stranger.”
There’s a pause, then Jungkook and Jimin both take a shot. Seokjin doesn’t know why he wanted to know the answer, but now that he does, the heat in his stomach dips lower, spreading to his feet.
A few rounds later, he’s beginning to feel properly drunk. He and Namjoon only drank one more shot each, but Jungkook had easily drunk another four or five. Instead of looking embarrassed, Jungkook just giggles, preening under the attention. Seokjin feels the heat in his stomach turn to a smoulder and he places a hand on Namjoon’s thigh, rubbing softly.
“Jungkook is a bit of a slut,” Hoseok teases, squeezing the back of Jungkook’s neck.
“No!” Jungkook tries to argue, but he hiccups and dissolves into giggles again. “I’m not, I promise!”
He kind of is though, Seokjin thinks, and he feels a little spark of jealousy because he’d never been that carefree when he was in college. He’d been too shy — too focused on his studies to think about letting loose the way he saw his roommates doing. Now that he’s older, he can’t help but feel envious that he missed out. Seokjin is the kind of college student everyone would have wanted to be and Seokjin would have hated back then, but now he feels no different from anyone else.
“Last round,” Jimin says, taking Seokjin out of his thoughts. “Before you throw up.”
“Ah, it’s my turn,” Jungkook says, pushing himself until he’s sitting upright. Even though he can barely hold himself up, his eyes sparkle brightly. “Never have I ever had a threesome!”
No one takes a shot.
“You guys have never had a threesome before?” Jungkook asks, sounding shocked.
“I almost had one,” Hoseok confesses. “Two girls at a party were willing to hook up but I chickened out.”
Jimin looks contemplative. “I think I’ve just never had the opportunity.”
“What about you guys?” Jungkook asks Namjoon and Seokjin, looking at them with a strange intensity that makes Seokjin squirm.
“What?” Namjoon asks.
“You’ve been married for eight years. You’ve never had a threesome? Or wanted one?”
“No,” Namjoon says, sounding unsure. “Is that something married couples normally do?”
“Sometimes,” Jungkook says. “A lot of people are into it.”
“Are you?” Seokjin asks challengingly, searching Jungkook’s expression for anything that might give his intentions away.
Jungkook doesn’t shy away from his gaze and even seems to bask in it. He meets Seokjin’s eyes when he speaks, tilting his chin up invitingly. “I’ve always wanted to try it. Don’t you?”
Oh, Seokjin thinks, the realization setting it. It’s an ugly feeling. Now he understands.
“Really?” Jimin asks. “What kind? Two girls? Two guys? One of each?”
Seokjin wonders how he didn’t pick up on it sooner — the way Jungkook talks to both of them, always wanting to rile him up. The way that finding out Namjoon was married didn’t deter him at all but just made him seem to want him more. Jungkook wants a threesome with them, or at least — he’s willing to have one if that’s what it took to have Namjoon.
“I don’t care,” Jungkook says, sounding dazed as he talks about it. “I just… really want to try it. At least once.”
Or, worse, Jungkook just wants them as an experiment. To scratch an itch so he could say he’d done it with a married couple. The two of them had always been private and reserved about their relationship. Unintrusive. Seokjin wonders if that’s the problem — Jungkook sees their dynamic as something vulnerable rather than as a sign of their closeness.
The thought makes Seokjin want Jungkook to overhear him and Namjoon in the bedroom tonight when they go back to Jimin’s instead of their hotel — just so he'd be forced to listen to Seokjin have the man he wants. He wonders if Jungkook would be depraved enough to touch himself to the sounds through the wall. If he’d like it instead of getting jealous.
Seokjin considers Jungkook for a moment, tasting his words before he speaks them. “If you had to choose between two girls or two guys, who would you pick?” He looks at Jungkook carefully while he waits for him to answer, brushing his thumb over the rim of the bottle. He knows Jungkook’s answer before he even speaks, but he waits for it anyway, placing his hand back on Namjoon’s thigh, the movement causing Jungkook’s eyes to flicker down. Seokjin begins to move his hand slowly, squeezing when he gets close to Namjoon’s knee.
“Two guys,” Jungkook says easily without hesitation, leaning back onto his elbows. He looks at Seokjin as he says it, no ounce of shame behind his eyes. They flicker with something dark.
Bingo.