Work Text:
Yoongi’s Thursday was going perfectly normally until he got a call.
The call.
Hoseok’s call, to be exact.
But before that, it was normal. Yoongi would go so far as to say successful, even though the twins are on some sort of sleeping-in protest and were up at the crack of dawn trying to escape from their cribs, it was fine. They did their morning routine, all dressed and fed before Hoseok even left for work, which meant that he had an extra set of hands to help with it all. Hell, he even had time to make himself a coffee before he got the kids set up in their playpen with a plethora of toys to use at their selection and sat down at the kitchen table with his laptop to start working for the day.
It’s not the most thrilling of jobs, but when the owner of the cafe Yoongi started working at when he was pregnant informed him that her assistant had decided to take another position and offered him the role instead, Yoongi had said yes simply because it was something he could do from the comfort of his couch while nursing the twins. It’s a lot of schedule making and placing bulk orders for coffee beans at their vendors. But, none of it is particularly time intensive or stressful, and for the most part Yoongi can set his own hours with it, which means he can clock out when the twins need him, or when Hoseok is home.
Which means they always have time to be a family.
Noon rolls around with a lot of clicking through timesheets, and stopping to pull Sujin off of her brother (she thinks she’s a pro wrestler. Haneul does not consent to such behavior), and then it’s time to shut his computer and scoop the twins up to be clipped into their high chairs for lunch, which this week has looked like an endless stream of blueberries. He swears, half of their grocery budget goes exclusively towards fresh fruit. Yoongi probably wouldn’t even need a job if these two monsters didn’t inhale fruit like it falls from the sky.
“Blue-ba!” Sujin shouts, pummeling her high chair tray with her tubby fists clenched. “Blue-ba!”
“I am, I am,” Yoongi replies mildly, pulling the carton from the fridge and giving it a good rinse. “Have you tried please? Do you remember please?” He signs the word at her, the way their pediatrician recommended for those tricky in-between stages where language pathways are forming, but words don’t always come out right.
“Blue-ba!” Sujin announces again, and this time it sounds more like a threat than a request. At her side, Haneul is signing enthusiastically. Please! Please! Please!
“See, Hani knows it,” Yoongi reminds Sujin, spilling a handful of berries onto her tray. She barely waits for him to get his hand out of the way before she attacks them the way a caveman might attack the first piece of raw meat he’s seen in a week. “Hani always says please,” Yoongi adds in a coo, giving him a pile of berries too and brushing a hand through his downy hair while he’s at it.
Factually speaking, Haneul doesn’t always say please. In fact, he didn’t say much of anything until about a month ago, not even the babbling that Sujin was doing constantly. He was so quiet that Yoongi and Hoseok actually brought him into the doctor’s for a work up to make sure everything was alright, only to be told that the only ‘problem’ was the fact that Haneul was just, in fact, stubbornly silent.
And then he seemed to catch on pretty quick that he could get a lot of things a lot faster if he used his hands and words, and that got the chatter ball rolling.
Yoongi shuffles back to the fridge, nosing around inside for something more substantial to feed them (and himself) but before he can come to a conclusion, his phone starts vibrating shrilly on the counter.
“If it’s work, appa won't answer,” Yoongi narrates in a singsong voice as he turns around with a loaf of bread and some cheese in hand, well aware that the twins don’t have a clue what he’s saying anyway, “because he’s not clocked in, and you should never work off the clock.”
He peers at the screen and then looks at the twins, making a surprised face (it’s all about the facial expressions, their pediatrician says. They’re watching your every move and learning how to be people).
“It’s not work,” he informs them conspiratorially, “it’s your father.”
He nudges the fridge shut with his elbow and picks up the phone, hitting accept before tucking it between his ear and shoulder so he can keep lunch-prepping.
“What’s up?”
“Hi, baby,” Hoseok hums. His voice sounds a little tight. Or maybe his cell reception is just bad, but Yoongi has no idea why it would be, he coaches at a private school, everything is state of the art, probably including the cell towers. “How’s your day?”
“Fine,” Yoongi shrugs, forgetting Hoseok can’t see him. “Normal. Your children are eating their weight in blueberries.”
“Yeah, that sounds like them.”
“Why’d you call?”
“Welllll,” Hoseok begins, stretching the word longer than it ever needs to be, like he’s debating whether or not he should speak further, “my day has kind of hit a critically low point.”
“What?” Yoongi freezes while reaching for a kitchen knife. “Why?”
“I’m…in the ER.”
“What?” Yoongi says so loudly that he hears both twins startle in their chairs, and he drops his voice much lower, turning away to keep the conversation from them. “How the hell-? Are you okay? What happened?”
“It’s stupid,” Hoseok whines, sounding awfully pouty about it. “I got hit in the head.”
“Hoseok. By what?”
“A rogue basketball. It wasn’t my students' fault, seriously. I was standing in the way, I got distracted talking to one of them across the court cause she asked me a question, and then…yeah. Basketball at high velocity upside the head. Head coach told me to go in and get checked out just in case, so…here I am.”
“Jesus, Hoseok,” Yoongi groans, peeking over his shoulder at the twins. They’re fine, still annihilating their berries. “And you’re okay?”
“I think so. I mean, I’m not dying. They did some scans, we’re waiting on results. It’s kind of boring here.”
“Okay. I’ll get the twins in the car, we’ll head over.”
“Oh, no,” Hoseok backtracks quickly, “you don’t have to do that. They’re probably eating lunch. Have you eaten lunch? It’s not that big of a deal, I’m fine.”
“Hoseok,” Yoongi huffs, rolling his eyes. There’s something deeply and fundamentally impossible about getting Jung Hoseok to accept help, or even support. “You’re in the ER, I’m coming over to be with you. That’s like, basic etiquette.”
“But I really am fine—“
“Then you’ll be fine with your family keeping you company,” Yoongi says firmly. “We’re leaving now, be there in twenty.”
ER waiting rooms are, well, as they always are. Frankly, Yoongi is fortunate to not have been in many, but they all sort of have the same sullen, sickly vibe, and he rushes the check in process to get Hoseok’s room number so he can be buzzed back.
“Room nine, room nine, room nine,” he murmurs, navigating with a twin in each arm squirming with the beginnings of a bout of fussing. Poor things were about to have lunch and then they were rudely uprooted for reasons they’re unable to comprehend. “Room nine!” he announces to them triumphantly when he spots the plaque on the wall beside the door. He knocks once, just to be sure, and a moment later Hoseok’s voice chimes out.
“Come in!”
Yoongi does, breathing a sigh of relief when he sees Hoseok propped upright and looking, all things considered, fairly perky.
“Baby,” Yoongi sighs, shoulders drooping. “You freaked me out.”
“Sorry,” Hoseok winces, truly looking it. “I didn’t mean to. This is not how I thought my Thursday would go.”
“Yeah,” Yoongi snorts. “Me neither.”
“Da-da!” Sujin leans forward off of Yoongi’s hip, stretching grabby hands toward Hoseok.
“Not now, bubba,” Yoongi murmurs, readjusting her squirming side against his and trying not to let Haneul slip in the other arm. “Daddy isn’t feeling well.”
“No,” Hoseok pouts, lifting his arms and waggling his fingers. “I want her. She wants me, I’m okay, hyung. I want them.”
Yoongi raises an eyebrow, and Hoseok makes a tutting sound in the back of his throat, gesturing up and down his body.
“I’m fine,” he says firmly. “Seriously. I’m just waiting on my scans back so I can get out of here. And I’m so bored, honey, I wanna see my kids.”
“Oh, they’re your kids now?” Yoongi asks, taking a lick of attitude into his tone as he passes both of the twins, somewhat gingerly, to Hoseok. “I seem to recall only one of us hauled them around for eight months.”
“And yet I seem to recall both of our names ended up on the birth certificate,” Hoseok replies happily, kissing each of the twins on their heads as they settle into his lap like they live there. And really, they practically do.
“So our kids,” Yoongi corrects with grumbling fondness, “they’re our kids.”
Hoseok smiles, tilting his head a little to regard Yoongi coyly. “You just wanted to hear me say our kids cause it riles you up, didn’t you?”
“Gross, Hoseok. In front of the children?”
“They have no idea what I’m saying.”
“But they will one day, and then what?”
“Then they’ll hear me flirting with their dad and I’m sure that would be just unbearable. Having two parents who love each other? Disgusting!”
“Wouldn’t know anything about it,” Yoongi snorts, pulling out the chair beside Hoseok’s bed and sinking into it.
“Me neither,” Hoseok shrugs, then nods towards the twins, “but they will.”
Yoongi smiles. There is something entirely comfortable about that thought. He pictures the twins, ten or eleven, at that age where everything becomes mortifying and humiliating, screeching ew, gross! whenever he and Hoseok say something overly sappy, how annoying it will be for the kids in the moment, and how pleasant it must be to look back on that later, with the wisdom of age, and realize that sort of stuff only happens because of an abundance of love.
That’s what he and Hoseok promised for their kids. An abundance of love. Absolutely nothing less, ever. Not on the worst of the worst days.
Yoongi leans forward with a sigh, examining Hoseok up close now that he’s near enough to do it. He does look okay for the most part, but there’s a shadow of a black eye forming around his orbital bone that makes Yoongi want to wince. He lifts a very careful hand to Hoseok’s hair and brushes through it with the lightest touch he can.
“It hit you on the back of the head but you have a black eye?”
Hoseok makes a face. “Hard hit.”
“Jesus. They were right to send you to the ER, babe.”
“I am fine.”
“Pine!” Sujin echoes, pointing an accusatory finger at Hoseok’s face.
“Pine,” Haneul follows up, comparatively quieter and with less pointing. He tips forward, laying his head on Hoseok’s chest right over his heart and taking in snuggling breaths. “Da-da-da-da-da-da,” he babbles softly to himself. “Appa-pa-pa-pa-pa.”
“They’re so smart,” Hoseok whines, leaning back into his flat pillow. “Listen to them, they’re brilliant. We have brilliant children.”
“I’m telling you, they’re jackpots. First try, twins, born early at a perfect weight, linguistically gifted. We’ve produced biologically perfect babies, people pray for what we have.”
“They are perfect,” Hoseok agrees happily.
And Yoongi knows, there’s no one more biased than the two of them, but he thinks it’s a pretty obvious and totally objective truth that their kids are superior. Good luck finding two kids that are smarter, cuter, or more genetically blessed than having Hoseok as their father.
A rapid double knock lands on the door, and a second later it clicks open. A short-haired doctor with a petite stature pokes in, smiling when she sees the little audience that’s gathered.
“Hiya, we’ve got your scans back. Are these little ones yours?”
Hoseok flicks an amused glance at Yoongi from the corner of his eyes, tongue stuck in his cheek. “Ours,” he replies, a trace of humor in his voice layered over pride.
“They’re beautiful,” the doctor coos, directing her attention at the twins and giving them a little wave. Sujin waves back. Haneul regards her with what could be called, at best, suspicion.
He’s not terribly social, but that’s okay because Yoongi isn’t either, and so at every event he’ll have a little mini-him to sit in the corner with.
“Okay, so,” the doctor straightens up, sobering herself after entertaining the babies for a second. “Scans back. For the most part, you’re in the clear,” the narrates, flipping around shiny prints of Hoseok’s X-rayed skull around. “But here you can see we’ve got a little tiny concussion. Now, I’m not overly concerned about it, it’s the kind of thing that resolves itself after a day or two, so I’m gonna send you home with a couple painkillers for the headache that I’m sure you have, and instructions not to drive for the next twenty-four hours. And just to be safe, have someone at home keep an eye on you, okay? You could be a little dizzy and we don’t want you slipping and falling and knocking that head around anymore, right?”
“Right,” Hoseok agrees. “So…I’m free to go?”
“You’re free to go,” the doctor nods. “Just as soon as our on-call nurse here gets you those meds and discharge paperwork.”
She shuffles the papers back under her arm and retreats towards the door, giving Hoseok a thumbs up on the way out that Sujin returns.
As soon as she leaves, Hoseok turns to Yoongi, giving him a scrunched up look. “So, are you down to babysit me for the rest of the day?”
“I just feel bad.”
“What is there to feel bad about?” Yoongi groans for the umpteenth time. “You got hit in the head. By accident, and it wasn’t even your accident.”
“I know, I know,” Hoseok all but moans, stretching the vowels as long as he possibly can before they break. “But now you have to take time out of your day—“
“—I was done working anyways—“
“Time that could go to the babies—“
“It’s literally still going to them, the only thing that changed is we’re both home now instead of just me—“
“—And I just feel like a burden,” Hoseok finishes with an air of confession, shutting the door behind them since Yoongi has both baby carriers in his hands.
And there it is. That little thing of Hoseok’s, the little itch that he can’t seem to resolve. He’s so kind, so generous with his time and resources, always ready to drop anything to help someone, Yoongi most especially, but the second the tables are turned, he clams up. He gets…nervous, almost. Afraid to let help find him and to lean into it.
“Hoseok,” Yoongi softens his voice, dampening it down to something as pliable and inoffensive as a voice possibly could be, because Hoseok is like a skittish puppy when he gets this way, all wound up in his head and convinced that somebody (Yoongi) will get angry at him for meaningless reasons.
“It’s just one day,” he murmurs, setting the twins carriers down in the hallway so he can free up his hands to cup Hoseok’s face. “I really, honestly, truly can’t tell you how much this doesn’t bother me. The only concern I had was it wasn’t serious, and now the only concern I have is that your head doesn’t hurt, and you don’t fall over.”
“I’m not gonna fall over,” Hoseok replies, cracking a smile in spite of himself.
“I know you’re not,” Yoongi pats his cheek and kisses him on the forehead, exaggerated and puckered. “Because I’m keeping an eye on you.”
At that point, the chance to have lunch has come and passed, and Yoongi and Hoseok’s stomachs are both rumbling, so they skip ahead to an early dinner. Hoseok ambles around the kitchen a little gingerly, insisting he’s perfectly capable of heating up frozen dumplings, while Yoongi sits at the kitchen island multitasking the twins. They napped in the car, and woke up fussy from having their lunches cut pitifully short and being dragged to the hospital, so now all they want is milk milk milk. The comfort of being squished close to Yoongi, skin to skin, tugging at his clothing and soothing themselves while they eat.
Sometimes it’s exhausting, Yoongi can’t glamorize it. The complete and total lack of space, the responsibility of it being exclusively his job. It’s the one thing, really, that Hoseok can’t bear half the burden of, and sometimes, especially in the beginning, Yoongi found that slightly excruciating. But like all things, he found his rhythm with it eventually. And now, he has the clarity to remind himself that, although he may resent it in certain moments presently, there will come a day in the long distant future when he wishes his kids were babies again, all clingy and cuddly and practically attached to him.
When the food is done, Hoseok serves them both, and Yoongi eats around the twins squirming until they finish up and decide, actually, they do want solid food, and then Yoongi and Hoseok both take turns picking open their dumplings and feeding Haneul and Sujin chunks of soft pork filling, delighting (as doting parents do) in their smiles and soft noises and hand-signs for more more more.
Hoseok moves them to the living room, laying on the floor and letting them crawl all over him while Yoongi cleans the kitchen. Hoseok offered to do it, the way he always does, but the twins want their daddy by the end of the day, and Yoongi likes the way he can stand at the sink scrubbing dishes and see right into the living room where they play together.
It isn’t that late, but the twins missed their afternoon nap, and it seems to be catching up to them now that the sun is setting. Usually they’d be on their post-dinner energy high, but tonight they don’t seem interested in doing much more than rolling around like topsy-turvy eggs. Sujin on her back, trying unsuccessfully to bring her toes to her mouth and eat them, Haneul on his belly with his head on Hoseok’s outstretched arm, babbling nonsensically, but Hoseok replies like the two of them are having a conversation.
Oh, really? And then what happened? That sounds fun. Do you think so?
Yoongi flips the dishwasher on and gives his hands a rinse before ambling into the living room and sinking down on the rug near Hoseok’s head. He lifts his hands, still slightly damp, and cards them through Hoseok’s hair gently.
“How’s your skull?”
“Still intact,” Hoseok murmurs, tilting just a little to look up at Yoongi. “Just about as much as I can ask for.”
“Hm, yeah. You look a little better. Not as pale.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not in the ER anymore, I’m at my house. No one looks good in an ER.”
“Well, you looked good,” Yoongi cracks a smile, “but you looked sick.”
“It’s the lighting,” Hoseok tells him decisively, then rolls and scoops Haneul up, propping him on his stomach. “Do you want me to get double trouble ready for bed?”
Yoongi glances over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. “It’s too early. If we put them down now we won’t even fall asleep before they’re up again.”
“Mm, should we just lay here for a while then?”
“We could watch a movie?” Yoongi offers, still running his fingers carefully through Hoseok’s hair, not really touching his tender scalp so much as he’s just ghosting over it. “Nice and quiet. Maybe babies will fall asleep in an hour, if we’re lucky. You can pick, if you want.”
The corners of Hoseok’s mouth turn up. “Really?”
“Yes,” Yoongi sighs, resigning himself to the fact that letting Hoseok pick the movie means, without a doubt, it’ll be about basketball.
“Okay, deal,” Hoseok says, lifting Haneul and attempting to sit up in a hurry, but Yoongi stops him with an arm barred across his chest.
“Whoa there, there’s no fire. Slow down before you give yourself a headache, baby.”
They slowly, safely relocate to the couch, Hoseok swapping Haneul for Sujin so he can rock her, and Yoongi can nurse him. To no one’s surprise, Hoseok picks some action-inspirational dramatization of an American basketball player’s coming of age and watches with rapt attention while bouncing Sujin in his lap.
Yoongi is less invested. He knows a fair amount about the sport, but it’s never drawn him in the way it does for Hoseok, or Namjoon, or any of their other friends that spent years on the college team. For Yoongi, it’s more enjoyable to watch Hoseok watch it than it is to view the movie himself. He lives and breathes that damn game, it was the clearest option for him once the twins hit their hundred-day mark and Yoongi and Hoseok decided together that, yes, the ability to do nothing but be at home and present together with their babies for that newborn bubble had been everything they needed, but it was time to start thinking about the rest of life.
Hoseok, being Hoseok, it had only taken him all of about three days to find the perfect thing. An assistant coach for the basketball team of a private school in their district, a cushy little position that he interviewed for and got a callback the next day.
We loved you, they said, we think you’ll be a great fit with the kids.
God, Hoseok’s seemingly effortless success used to irk Yoongi, he would puzzle over how and why everyone was always tripping over their feet to sit by or talk to or work with Jung Hoseok, but he gets it now. Hoseok is kind, and smart, but in the understated sort of way that never makes anyone around him feel dumb, and he’s a hell of a hard worker, and none of that is, or ever was, effortless at all.
But that’s the magic of truly excellent people. They’re never loud about how excellent they are, or how much work it takes to be that way.
“Hey.”
Yoongi blinks. Hoseok is looking right at him, his eyes warm, and a little curious.
“Hey,” Yoongi echoes. “What?”
“Nothing. You were looking at me, I thought maybe you wanted to say something.”
“Oh,” Yoongi’s cheeks warm just a little. He gets lost in his head sometimes, thinking about anything and everything, and he tends to zone out while he does it and forget that the people around him can still see him. “Just thinking.”
“Good things, I hope.”
“About you?” Yoongi gives him a slice of a smile. “Always.”
“God, you’re just too cute,” Hoseok groans, leaning in and planting a kiss on Yoongi’s mouth, “you should come with a warning label.”
“I did, and you ignored literally all the signs since day one.”
Hoseok shrugs and readjusts Sujin in the crook of his elbow. “Yeah, well, no comment from me, I’d do it all over again. Sujin is asleep, by the way.”
“Yeah, so is Hani,” Yoongi hums, looking down at his son's sleeping, cherubic face. Long eyelashes fanning out, wispy hair curling onto his forehead, milk-fat cheeks pink and prominent. “I’ll go put them down.”
“No, I can,” Hoseok protests softly, moving to get to his feet, but Yoongi waves him back down.
“You sit, watch the movie. I’ll put him down and double back for Sujin, it’ll only take a second. Seriously, baby, just sit.”
Hoseok does, though he looks a bit regretful about it, and Yoongi sort of wants to yell at him (in the nicest, most loving way possible) that it’s okay, perhaps even necessary, to do nothing sometimes. To let someone else take care of things for him.
Yoongi slips off to the nursery before Hoseok can protest, settling Haneul in his crib, flicking on the nightlight and the white noise machine that’s gotten them through some restless nights (and allowed Yoongi and Hoseok to have, ahem, their time without waking the babies) before shuffling back out to the living room to collect Sujin.
“But she’s just so snuggly,” Hoseok protests before Yoongi has even reached them. “What if I just hold her all night?”
“Hoseok,” Yoongi rolls his eyes in spite of his endearment, “you need to sleep tonight, you can’t stay up with her.”
“I can sleep with her,” Hoseok pouts, but he lifts her reluctantly into Yoongi’s arms with a parting kiss to her mochi-cheek.
“You can get her up in the morning,” Yoongi promises, because god knows he doesn’t want to be the one up at the crack of dawn consoling them when they wake up annoyed that they’re no longer being rocked and coddled.
“Okay,” Hoseok relents, sounding genuinely disappointed to see her go, but he’s settling back into the couch, evidently deciding that resistance is futile.
Chuckling to himself, Yoongi walks off with Sujin. After he settles her in, he double-checks both cribs for stray toys or blankets that might have gotten tossed in there during the day, then switches on the baby monitor in the corner, checking that it’s angled just right before shutting their door and heading back to the living room.
Hoseok is tucked in on himself now, hugging a pillow to his chest that Yoongi assumes he grabbed as soon as Sujin wasn’t there anymore. He thinks Hoseok has gotten so used to always having someone in his arms since they became parents that when he isn’t holding onto something for a change, he feels empty. Getting used to the lack of personal space was an adjustment for Yoongi that he took in stride, but Hoseok? He craves touch, he could probably tie himself to Yoongi or the twins and be perfectly content having them on him for the rest of time.
So Yoongi watches him for just a moment, earnestly cuddling his pillow and dedicating his attention to the move playing out onscreen, unaware that Yoongi has eyes on him.
Yoongi waits just as long as he can before he caves, unable to hold out any longer, and makes a beeline for the couch. He sinks down next to Hoseok, wrapping his arms around him and kissing his neck up to his cheek softly, settling there for a moment with his face pressed against Hoseok’s. He smells like warm brown sugar, all clean and sweet once again after rolling in baby cuddles now that the scent of hospital anxiety has worn off, and all Yoongi wants to do is breathe him in forever.
Okay, maybe Hoseok has rubbed off on him with time, and Yoongi craves being touched too every now and then.
“Hi, beautiful,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to Hoseok’s jaw before drawing away. “How’s the head?”
“Still good,” Hoseok murmurs, shifting around and slipping down so he’s stretched out over half the couch and roughly on eye level with Yoongi’s waist. “Better now that you’re here. Cuddle me.”
“Please and thank you have gone out the window, I see,” Yoongi shakes his head, exasperated. “Concussion knocked your manners straight out.”
“Hyung,” Hoseok giggles into Yoongi’s shirt. “Cuddle me please?”
“All you had to do was ask,” Yoongi replies mildly, minding Hoseok’s head but pulling him a little closer so he’s slung over Yoongi’s lap like a puppy who hasn’t yet realized it’s way too large to lay like that. Nonetheless, Yoongi lets him settle in before he leans forward and nuzzles into Hoseok’s hair, scenting him thoroughly.
“Love you,” he hums, moving one hand to the hem of Hoseok’s shirt and wiggling up under it to find the ridges of his spine. He starts scratching up and down, gentle, practiced motions that he’s had months and months now to memorize.
It’s funny to consider. They haven’t been together that long, the two of them, not for how much they’ve achieved since then. If it were anyone else, Yoongi would say they’re being irresponsible. But it’s not anyone else, it’s Hoseok, and Yoongi has known him almost as long as he’s known himself.
And he’s known himself long enough to know that Hoseok makes him better.
“I love you too,” Hoseok mumbles, his voice already turning to sludge under Yoongi’s soft ministrations. If there’s one thing to know about Hoseok, it’s that if you start scratching his back it’s like putting your computer on sleep mode. Don’t expect him to do anything because you’ll have about 5 seconds flat before he’s rendered incapable of functioning.
“Gonna fall asleep if you do that,” he warns a moment later, even drowsier, if possible.
At least he’s self aware.
“Then fall asleep,” Yoongi tells him, entirely unbothered, because why would he be? It’s their couch, in their apartment, and neither of them have work tomorrow.
“You can’t carry me to bed,” Hoseok mumbles, a little hint of a pout creeping into his voice. “And you know I can’t sleep without you.”
“I would stay with you, obviously,” Yoongi rolls his eyes. “You don’t think we can both fit onto this couch?”
“I think we can.” Hoseok pauses. He yawns. “I just wasn’t sure if you wanted to.”
“Do you want to?”
“Yes, of course.” Hoseok rolls, so he can loop his arms around Yoongi’s waist in a hug without disrupting his regularly-scheduled back scratching. “I want to be anywhere you are. All the time. You know I would crawl inside your clothing with you if I could.”
“I know. You’re disgusting.”
“I love you.”
“By disgusting, I meant adorable. Obviously.” Yoongi leans down to kiss his forehead. “I love you too,” he murmurs, sweeping a hand over Hoseok’s face and chuffing his chin fondly. “Now go to sleep before my hand cramps from scratching your back. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Hoseok raises one sleepy eyebrow. “Promise?”
“Promise.”