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Taehyung presses his nose up against the inside of his bedroom window, his reading glasses tapping against the icy pane. It’s pretty out tonight, like something from a film, sky clear with the threat of frost, all the bars and eateries and late-night shops lit up bright and neon. There’s a wispy fog, too, hanging low over the street; Halloween passed by a week or so ago, but it still has that vibe, spooky and mysterious. Taehyung loves it. On any other night like this, especially with Hoseok gone, he’d probably throw all the windows wide just to breathe in the crisp, chilly air without having to leave his study notes – maybe drag out his telescope to help remind him why he loves this stuff, even while his astro project is draining his entire lifeforce. He’s pretty sure Yoongi would skin him alive if he caught him at that shit tonight, though.
The heat in the building has been broken since Tuesday and the apartment is what Taehyung would call “nippy”, while Yoongi has a couple more colourful phrases to describe it, most of which involve him losing his genitals to frostbite. It had a similar effect on Hoseok, got him on the first train back to Gwangju that morning, leaving Taehyung with nothing but a note informing him that A) he is a freak of nature and should probably be exorcised and B) there’s enough frozen spaghetti carbonara in the freezer to feed the whole block for a week, please eat it.
It’s gotten a lot colder today, Taehyung has to admit, but nothing that he couldn’t solve with an extra blanket and a couple more t-shirt layers underneath his cosiest hoodie. Yoongi, on the other hand, hasn’t been doing quite so well. He tried pretending it didn’t bother him, he really did. He arrived in a sweater and his usual beat-up old leather jacket and he tried so hard to pretend he was fine, while also very slowly shrinking further and further into what little clothing he was wearing, like a turtle retreating inside its shell. Taehyung finally broke once he started to sniffle, got him a woolly sweater to replace his jacket with. Then Yoongi kept rubbing at his thighs to warm them up, which was infinitely more interesting to look at than his physics notes, so Taehyung snapped once more and went into Hoseok’s room to steal a pair of his warmest sweats (also, some extra socks). Yoongi swapped out his Docs and ripped jeans for those and he’s been much more content since, only showing his complaints in some light pouting and touch the occasional shivery sigh.
Taehyung can hear him clattering about in the kitchen now and muttering to himself, too, by the sounds of it. He’s likely just cursing the cold or talking to Floppy (Hoseok’s peppermint plant and only son), but whatever it is, the low and cranky hum of his voice makes Taehyung grin as he turns from the window, heads for the bedroom door still sitting slightly ajar.
It’s colder in the living area, and dark, the light from the street shining up in a series of washed out colours that cast deep shadows across the room. The weak, yellow kitchen light is on, flickering, and Taehyung almost thinks Yoongi isn’t there for a moment. He pulls up short, however, when he does finally spy his boyfriend. Not only is Yoongi now wearing the giant, wool cardigan Taehyung left on the sofa earlier (Yoongi hates those cardigans with a passion, this is truly a remarkable detail), he’s also sitting on the hard linoleum floor of the kitchenette, knees pulled up to his chest, nursing his steaming mug as he pokes at the teabag within with one long finger.
‘Hyung…’ Taehyung says slowly, frowning at him, ‘what’re you doing?’
Yoongi glances up as Taehyung approaches, sock feet sliding quietly across the floor. ‘It’s warmer down here,’ he explains, and he looks like he believes that, eyes solemn, nose and cheeks flushed from the steam. His eyes are red-rimmed, too, glassy with tiredness since he came here straight from work. Taehyung’s tried to get him to go to sleep, but he’s been refusing point blank, knows Taehyung likes a study buddy.
‘Hot air rises, hyung,’ Taehyung tells him gently now, doing his level best not to laugh at him as he grabs a teaspoon from the drawer by Yoongi’s head. He taps his temple with it to get him to look up. ‘That doesn’t make any sense.’
‘You know what else rises?’ Yoongi asks him, a dark eyebrow quirking up as he takes the offered spoon.
Taehyung snorts, shutting the drawer with a smirk. ‘Your dick?’ he guesses, but Yoongi shoots him a dark look.
‘Not in this fucking cryogenic tomb it doesn’t,’ he grumbles, stabbing his spoon rather viciously into the teabag. Taehyung flinches, hoping it hasn’t burst, and leans over him to check on his own tea, still brewing on the countertop.
‘What, then, hyung?’ he prompts.
Yoongi brandishes the now steaming teaspoon up at him, eyes wide and warning in a way that might actually be intimidating if he wasn’t sitting there all curled up, with a pink nose and ruffled blonde hair, in the softest clothes known to man. ‘My fist, up your ass, if you try to explain this unearthly cold with science,’ he finishes.
‘I see… so, we’re into fisting now?’ Taehyung makes an appreciative sort of face, reaching down to catch at the arm brandishing the spoon, help him up before he really does freeze his dick off. ‘Nice.’
‘Tae,’ Yoongi says, getting stiffly to his feet, waving the steamy spoon right up in Taehyung’s face now. ‘I’m not fucking around, kid, you got ghosts in here, fuckin’ poltergeists or some shit. They’re tryna kill you – and me, now.’ Yoongi turns back to the counter, sets his own mug back down to start poking at Taehyung’s. (Taehyung smiles when he realises he’s got his tea made in his favourite mug, with the USS Enterprise blueprints on it.) ‘Hoseok had the right idea, y’know, we should skip town.’
Taehyung lets out a quiet sound, something between a sigh and laugh. ‘Hyung, I warned you before you came over that there was no heat,’ he reminds him gently, wrapping his arms around him from behind and pressing his mouth down against Yoongi’s woolly shoulder. ‘And I’ll have two sugars, please, thanks,’ he adds, lifting an arm to reach over Yoongi’s head, get the sugar packet from the cupboard up there.
‘Yeah, but while you specified the absence of the heat,’ Yoongi says, and it’s in one those voices he has, one of those particular tones he takes when he’s talking absolute shit – most of the time, really, ‘you did not mention the presence of a whole ice age in your fucking apartment, Tae. I’m waiting for the talking sloth to pop outta the fucking fridge.’
Taehyung can’t stop himself from giggling down into his shoulder again. ‘You mean Sid, hyung?’
Yoongi makes a noise, a low grunt of assent as he opens up the sugar packet. ‘Yeah, that’s the lil shit’s name. Where you hiding him, huh?’
Taehyung nuzzles into Yoongi’s neck a bit, nose bumping into the cross earring that dangles from his left lobe. ‘He left in Hoseok’s suitcase,’ he says, still grinning wide, stage-whispering it into Yoongi’s ear like it’s some kind of grand secret. ‘It was too cold for him.’
That gets a rumbly sort of chuckle out of Yoongi as he spoons the sugars into Taehyung’s mug. Taehyung watches him work, long fingers with the thin, silver rings and chipped, dark polish on the nails looking all kinds of good holding that tiny spoon so delicately.
‘You know you can go home, hyung,’ Taehyung tells him softly, shutting his eyes to the comforting sound of the spoon scraping against the cup while Yoongi stirs. ‘I won’t cry much if you wanna, I promise. You haven’t even missed the last bus, I don’t think.’
Yoongi tips his head back against Taehyung’s shoulder, looking up at him. ‘You tryna get rid of me, Tae?’ he asks, and Taehyung can see the smirk starting to play around his mouth.
‘What if the ghosts get you?’ Taehyung asks him, lowering his voice to a whisper again, squeezing him a bit through all his layers. ‘What then, hyung?’
‘What if they get you?’ Yoongi counters, going back to fish the teabags out of the mugs. (He leans over to dump them in the sink instead of straight to the bin all the way over in the corner, which is a luxury they’re only allowed when Hoseok is far out of town.) ‘You need me, baby.’
Taehyung turns his head grin against his neck again. ‘I need you, huh?’ he asks, pressing a couple kisses, one for each of the three teardrops inked to the skin there. He smells like his own peppery cologne and also Taehyung’s bed, which is always a great smell on Yoongi; Taehyung nuzzles contentedly. ‘Mmm, you’re not wrong there.’
‘For protection,’ Yoongi clarifies, in a knowing tone.
‘Of course, hyung.’ Taehyung runs his lips up the outer rim of Yoongi’s ear, catches one of his helix piercings with his teeth, tugging very gently; he swears he feels him shiver, well-disguised with a roll of his shoulders. Taehyung gives him another squeeze. ‘That, too.’
‘And why’d you get outta bed?’ he demands suddenly, getting all snippy now because a flustered Yoongi is the crankiest kind and Taehyung fucking loves it. He dodges back out of the way when Yoongi turns to try give him a whack with that vicious teaspoon of his, eyebrows all stormy. ‘You were the only thing keeping it warm, Kim Taehyung.’
Taehyung grins wide, reaching over to flick his septum piercing up with a gentle finger because it always acts like power down button. He can never seem to help but smile when Taehyung does it, nose scrunching. ‘Sorry, hyung,’ he says, entirely insincere, giggling when Yoongi swats his hand away.
He grumbles something darkly under his breath as he turns to scoop up the mugs, handing Taehyung his own with a scowl that’s almost convincing. ‘C’mon,’ he says, giving Taehyung’s ass a good, solid whack on his way past. ‘And tell me you’re taking a break now, I’m so bored.’
‘You knew I was gonna be studying, hyung,’ Taehyung reminds him, following after him into the bedroom. He shuts the door behind them again, trying to keep whatever little heat they’ve generated inside. ‘You said you just wanted to sit quietly and not even talk.’
Yoongi sets his mug down onto the bedside locker. ‘Yeah, but I’ve been quiet and helpful for ages and now I’ve changed my mind,’ he mutters, making a face, mouth thinning out into a straight line that makes him look a tiny bit like a cartoon frog. ‘Pay attention to me.’
Taehyung laughs, going over to set down his own mug, before falling onto the bed, back aching from being hunched over his textbooks these past couple hours. He watches Yoongi crouch down by the lowest, deepest drawer of Taehyung’s desk, where he hides all his best snacks from Hoseok. He hunts around in there for something good, still pouting a touch.
‘You’ve been pretty good, hyung,’ Taehyung concedes, giggling again into his pillow at the smug smirk of self-satisfaction that curls Yoongi’s mouth at the compliment. Mostly, he just helped make flashcards and doodled weird shit on all Taehyung’s notes, but he did stop him flaking out from boredom, a very important role. ‘Don’t worry, I’m taking a break now,’ Taehyung assures him wearily. ‘Maybe nap for a couple hours.’
This seems to please him, though Yoongi won’t show it, not really. He stands up with a pack of sweet potato chips and digs around in one of the cardigan’s giant pockets for his phone as he wanders back over to the bed. The cardigan is oversized on Taehyung, navy blue wool that hangs off his shoulders and falls past midthigh; it’s one in a series of garments Yoongi calls his “granny cardigans” and often threatens to burn. It swallows Yoongi whole, the hem at his knees, his hands reduced to fingertips poking out of navy blue paws and Taehyung can’t stop smiling into his pillow as he watches him kneel on the edge of the bed, eyes still on his phone.
‘That looks good on you, hyung,’ Taehyung says, and Yoongi grunts questioningly under his breath, oblivious to Taehyung’s staring with his thumb busy tapping at his phone. ‘The cardigan, it suits you.’
Now he does look up, but only to give Taehyung a quick, sharp look. ‘Shut up,’ he grumbles. ‘We’re not gonna talk about this.’
‘Oh, yeah, we are,’ Taehyung insists, rolling over onto his side to prop himself on an elbow – all the better to grin at him in that one way he hates. ‘It’s adorable. You’re adorable. The cutest, softest, tiniest—’
Yoongi sighs heavily, a long-suffering sort of thing, locking his phone and tossing it up by the pillows, only narrowly missing Taehyung’s head. He looks quite pleased with himself when he sees Taehyung’s limbs flying up to protect himself from the missile. ‘I’m only wearing it ’cause I started losing sensation in my nipples,’ he says, frowning in this pouty sort of way as he rubs at said nipples through the dozen layers of clothing he must be wearing by now. ‘It was very distressing.’
Laughing at him again, Taehyung reaches out for him. Yoongi tosses the bag of chips at him first, but Taehyung promptly drops them and reaches out again, fingers wiggling in a petulant grabby motion that makes Yoongi roll his eyes. Still, he crawls over to flop down next to him, slithering in good and close as Taehyung starts to hitch the heavy winter duvet up round their shoulders.
‘I can’t believe you’re willing to risk your nipples just to spend time with me, hyung,’ he says, curling his arms around Yoongi’s waist under the covers, dipping his head down to press a kiss where he guesses there should be a nipple.
Yoongi snorts at the gesture. ‘Shut up,’ he says, swatting at his head, though he ends up leaving his hand there, fingers threaded through Taehyung’s hair as he makes a pillow of Yoongi’s woolly chest. ‘Just wanted to get away from Joon-ah. He’s unbearable this close to midterms.’
‘And that’s the only reason?’ Taehyung asks.
‘The only reason,’ Yoongi confirms, lying – always lying, but only because he knows he’s the worst liar on the face of this planet. No one ever believes him, least of all Taehyung.
He sniffles some more, then, just as a little shiver seems to hit him, running down his spine – Taehyung feels it, lifting his head to frown up at him.
‘Ah, hyung, you really are cold,’ he murmurs, a touch concerned now, the thought of sending Yoongi home becoming less and less of a joke in his mind. He doesn’t deal with cold well. Taehyung’s seen him soldier through split lips and broken knuckles and bruised ribs and gouged up knees, even a solid concussion that one time. He’ll shake all that off like it’s nothing, but a chilly gust of air and he’s floored, runny-nosed and shuddering. It’s kind of precious, but there’s a line and Taehyung doesn’t want to see him getting sick.
‘Nah, I’m okay,’ he insists, just like he always does, though it sounds much less convincing with that vibrato edging his voice.
Taehyung smirks at him, shaking his head in wonder at these blatant lies, and a sudden thought strikes him. ‘Wait, I know—’ he starts to mutter, ignoring Yoongi’s groans of protest as he rolls over out of the bed in one swift, ninja-esque manoeuvre, which he finishes by whacking his knee against his bedside locker.
‘Fucking idiot,’ he hears Yoongi sigh, but Taehyung’s too busy cursing himself out under his breath as he hops across the room to get his backpack.
‘Here,’ he finally says, after a couple moments fighting with the stiff zipper, hobbling back to the bed now with his library blanket in hand.
Yoongi’s already sitting up a bit to sip at his tea, nose crinkled in abject disgust at the taste. He lets Taehyung drape the thick fleece blanket around his shoulders, wrapping him up good and snug with only a gap left for the hand clutching his mug. Taehyung pats him down when he’s done, makes sure it’s secure, grinning wide at his own handiwork.
‘Perfect,’ he says.
‘This is really soft,’ Yoongi murmurs, sounding a touch mesmerised as he glances down at his new cocoon.
‘The softest,’ Taehyung agrees. This blanket is the only study buddy he’s had some nights, pulling nasty hours in the coldest corners of the campus library. It is, perhaps, the snuggliest thing he’s ever had in his life, aside from Yoongi.
‘What’s on it?’ Yoongi asks him, straining his neck at some inhuman angle to try and make out the print on the fleece, giving himself a couple charming extra chins in the process. Taehyung reaches out instinctively to tickle at them. ‘Some kinda nerd shit?’
‘Just constellations,’ he tells him, turning to quickly rearrange the pillows against the headboard in a cosy nest for their tea-drinking.
‘Some kinda nerd shit,’ Yoongi sighs, relaxing and settling in against him. He sounds a bit sleepier now, rolling out his vowels slowly, the tea starting the chase away that chill that keeps him so wired on these winter nights.
He’s so well wrapped up that it’s like cuddling a body pillow more than a human, but he’s stopped shivering, so Taehyung doesn’t mind. ‘You’re like a burrito, hyung,’ he says, grinning as he burrows his face into the crook of Yoongi’s neck; it’s already very toasty warm in there and a thought strikes him suddenly, making him laugh. ‘A Yoongito.’
Yoongi groans, long and loud, but Taehyung can hear the bitten back smile in his voice when he speaks. ‘Shut up.’
‘Could eat you up,’ Taehyung murmurs, tone dipping a touch lower, teeth scraping lightly along the delicate keys of the piano inked up the side of Yoongi’s neck (they stretch down along the top of his shoulder, too, and Taehyung sometimes amuses them both by tapping out simple, silent tunes, making Yoongi guess the song). He finds that gap, too, the one he left for Yoongi’s mug-holding hand, sneaks his own hand in to grope stealthily around for something good.
‘Did you really leave a gap in the blanket just so you could feel me up?’ Yoongi asks him, once Taehyung finds his ass, gives a gentle squeeze in greeting.
He lifts his head from the crook of Yoongi’s neck to grin at him, more of a leer, maybe, but a very affectionate leer. ‘I thought you liked it when I did intelligent things, hyung.’
‘I wasn’t complaining,’ Yoongi murmurs, reaching up to pluck Taehyung’s glasses off the bridge of his nose.
It’s nice to lose them, his tired eyes grateful, nose bridge aching a bit from where they’ve been sitting for so long. It’s even nicer when Yoongi tilts his chin up catches Taehyung’s mouth in a kiss, a good one, enough pressure to make Taehyung’s bones hum, a little nibble on his lower lip that makes him flush with heat. Yoongi’s septum ring, by contrast, is a sudden flash of ice-cold metal when his nose brushes against it by accident. It makes him shiver a little, a soft giggling catching in his throat when he feels Yoongi’s mouth curve into a smile. Taehyung’s tongue skims softly at the seam of his mouth, tasting the sweet, earthy camomile from the tea, and he sucks the slightest bit at Yoongi’s lower lip, always loves the way it turns the dial up on his enthusiasm.
Taehyung’s hand, that brave fellow that manage to invade the blanket cocoon, slides up from Yoongi’s ass, underneath his other clothing, slips into the waistband of his sweats and boxers, and his fingers sit snugly in there. It’s not the kind of night for anything heavy, Taehyung knows they’re both in agreement on that, but it never hurts to be as close to Yoongi’s ass as is bearable. It’s comfy, warm and familiar against the soft skin at the small of Yoongi’s back.
‘Hey, tell me a story or something,’ Yoongi mumbles against his lips after a while, leaving another couple slow, lazy kisses there before he pulls away. Even the gentlest kissing gives him that messy flush around his mouth, the hazy, dark look in his eyes, all of it working together to make Taehyung ache to kiss him again. He does, a little, barely more than a peck, then reaches over past Yoongi to grab his own mug off the beside locker.
‘What kinda story?’ Taehyung asks easily, because it’s not an unusual request from Yoongi.
He hates to fall asleep in the silence, listens to music and audiobooks at home, leaves the window open during the warmer months to hear the night-time traffic. When he’s with Taehyung, though, he’s the audiobook and sometimes he’s the music, too, depending on the mood. Your voice is hot or whatever, Yoongi once grumbled in gruff explanation, way back when he first asked if Taehyung would sing something. It wasn’t the kind of pillow talk Taehyung was used to with his hook-ups, but that was Yoongi – he was always different.
‘I don’t care,’ he sighs now, head tipping back against his shoulder, Taehyung’s arm curled round behind his neck; his fingers fiddle idly with Yoongi’s dangly earring. ‘Just whatever. One of your mad fuckin’ adventure stories or something.’
Taehyung has to think on that one for a little while, sipping the sweet tea and swilling it round his mouth in contemplation. It’s raining lightly now, a soothing patter against the darkened window panes, streetlights below making the droplets glitter on the glass. It’s pretty, like a tiny galaxy right there, just outside his bedroom.
‘Okay,’ he finally says, taking a sip of his tea before he begins. Yoongi has his eyes shut right now, but Taehyung knows he’s listening. ‘On a faraway planet—’
‘Of course,’ Yoongi says, and Taehyung grins sheepishly because yeah, okay, his story settings can be a little predictable, maybe.
He soldiers on regardless, knows from his faint smirk that Yoongi doesn’t really mind. ‘On a faraway planet,’ he says again, ‘there was this alien race. A primitive people, y’know, they lived simple lives by the ocean. They raised their kids and foraged for food and worshipped their mountain god, and they knew only peace.’
Taehyung pauses here to take another gulp of his tea, and Yoongi seems to consider doing the same, but decides against it, nose scrunched in disgust at the mere thought. He lets his head fall back once more, eyes slit lazily open this time to watch Taehyung speak. He ducks in to press a soft kiss on Yoongi’s cheek before he continues.
‘But one day,’ he says, voice much lower now, a hint of that dramatic urgency, ‘the people woke to a cloud hanging over their scared mountain, thick and black, reeking fumes that smelled only of danger and death. They all felt their god had forsaken them, that they’d failed the mountain in some way and this was their punishment.’ Yoongi seems genuinely interested in the actual essence of the story for once, eyebrows pulling together a bit as if he’s concerned. ‘The ground beneath them started to rumble and shake and the cloud spat fire down upon them, burned their huts, their people. They had no idea how to save themselves, had no choice but to accept whatever fate came to them. They took shelter in the deep, ruby forests on the clifftops, but they knew the end was near.’
Taehyung pauses again while Yoongi opens the packet of sweet potato chips, the packaging crackling loudly. His munching is pretty loud, too, makes him grin all wide and gummy because he knows he’s being annoying, but he pushes a chip into Taehyung’s mouth to placate him.
(It works.)
‘Anyway, when all hope seemed lost,’ Taehyung finally goes on, raising his mug up in a wide arc to demonstrate the epic scale of the next scene, ‘a great, dark shape rose majestically from the ocean—’
Yoongi makes a sudden dismissive sound low in his throat, rolling his eyes. ‘I knew it – Tae, this better not be something from a fuckin’ Star Fuckers film, not again.’
Taehyung’s face breaks into a guilty grin, he can’t help himself. ‘Which Star Fuckers film, though?’ he asks, and to his surprise, Yoongi actually takes a moment to consider that.
‘“Into Darkness”,’ he finally says, deadpan, though there’s a little glimmer of pride in his eyes when Taehyung’s face lights up. ‘Those papier-mâché freaks on the gooey red planet at the beginning, with the volcano. They end up worshipping the dumb fuckin’ spaceship.’
Giggling happily, Taehyung smacks another annoyingly forceful kiss onto his cheek. ‘Hyung, you’re learning,’ he coos.
‘You made me watch it four times last month alone,’ Yoongi reminds him, seeming unamused.
‘Only because you wouldn’t appreciate Benny Cumberwhatsit’s cheekbones.’
Yoongi makes a face at that, similar to the one he made after tasting the tea. ‘They were gross,’ he says flatly. ‘Really gross, Tae.’
Taehyung takes another sip of his tea, cooling fast in this chilly air. ‘I want them on my face.’
‘Yours are better,’ Yoongi tells him, and Taehyung gives him a look.
‘You have to say that, hyung,’ he points out, then let’s his tone drip a little honey for the next part, almost singsong. ‘Because you love me.’
‘No, I don’t,’ Yoongi says quickly, and Taehyung’s eyes go wide. He’s being a shit, really, he knows what Yoongi meant, but it’s fun watching him rush to clarify, his own eyes wide, too, voice a touch softer. ‘Have to say it, I mean. I don’t have to say you have nice cheekbones, just because…’ He trails off with a wave of his hand as if it was a natural end to the sentence, takes a gulp from his mug to avoid having to speak anymore. He looks a little like he might spit the whole mouthful out, but he sticks with it, Taehyung watching this whole fascinating process with a grin on his face.
Yoongi’s never actually said it, not explicitly – the love thing, not the cheekbones, he’s mentioned the cheekbones before – but he gets so flustered every time Taehyung brings up the big old L-word, starts tripping over his words, gets himself all in a tizzy and it’s the sweetest thing, really. He grumbles crankily under his breath now about “shitty fuckin’ leaf water” as Taehyung plants a kiss onto one of his flaming cheeks, once then twice, smiling so fond it makes his face hurt a bit.
‘I mean, I can tell you right away he’s got better hair,’ Yoongi says, trying to move swiftly on, and Taehyung really should’ve been expecting the customary insult to balance out the goo.
He lifts his head to look down at him, eyes narrow, chewing slowly and with malice on his sweet potato chip. ‘I’m offended, hyung,’ he says.
‘No, you’re not,’ Yoongi says flatly, popping another chip into his own mouth as he gazes up at Taehyung. He’s got this critical look in his eyes as they flick over his features, a lot like the look he gets when he’s listening to a good song for the first time. ‘You do have a better face, though,’ he goes on, once he’s swallowed his chip. He reaches up to poke at one of Taehyung’s cheekbones. ‘I’m not lying.’
He’s always like this when he’s tired, softer, his tongue looser. Sleepiness makes him say the things he might not otherwise say and do the things he might not otherwise do, like now, when he trails his fingertips gently down the side of Taehyung’s face, knuckles stroking along the line of his jaw. His thumb comes around to pinch a bit at Taehyung’s chin, trace the curve of his bottom lip. He does it all with his eyes kind of wide and shining, following the path of his own fingers.
Taehyung grins at him, chest doing that achy thing it does sometimes when Yoongi looks at him a certain kind of way, and he nips playfully at the tip of his thumb before he dips down to kiss him again. He gets his forehead first, at a spot where his bangs are parted messily, looking a little wild, then he gets his mouth. It’s a lazier kiss than last time, deeper, tongues curling together with the taste of camomile and sweet potato. Yoongi’s hand slips into Taehyung’s hair, combing through the strands more than gripping, then his fingers come down to tug a bit on Taehyung’s earlobe.
‘So, where’s my story?’ he asks, in a low, rumbly murmur.
Taehyung smiles tiredly, kissing his nose before pulling away again. ‘I’ll sing instead,’ he offers, taking the bag of potato chips and Yoongi’s mug when he offers, sitting up to slide them onto the bedside locker with his own. ‘I’m too tired to think of a real one, hyung.’
‘S’okay,’ Yoongi sighs, watching as Taehyung gets his phone, starts to set an alarm for around three hours’ time.
It’s definitely colder now, the chill hitting Taehyung especially hard after being snuggled up in the warmth of his bed. It makes him shiver properly for the first time since the heat broke, and he feels Yoongi’s hand smoothing up his back, rubbing a bit to generate some heat.
‘You want in the burrito?’ he asks, sounding like he might be smirking.
Taehyung nods quickly, locking up his phone and dropping it down beside the mugs again. ‘Very much,’ he confirms, diving in the moment Yoongi gets the tight cocoon untangled.
The heat is ridiculous and blissful as Taehyung wraps his arms around Yoongi’s waist. He’s practically lying on top of him, though Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind, tucking the fleece around Taehyung, then pulling the duvet up higher as well. It’s almost perfect till Yoongi shifts again, clearly uncomfortable, grumbling softly.
‘Shit, I’m crushing something,’ he’s saying, getting an arm out of the burrito and shushing Taehyung’s melodramatic discontented groans as he feels around underneath himself for the offending thing. It only takes him a couple seconds till he’s settling again with a sigh. ‘What’s this about, then?’ he asks, and Taehyung briefly cracks open a weary eye to see one of his own study notebooks.
‘The influence of solar variability on the Earth’s environment,’ he tells him, rattling it off like an old prayer, because that was one of yesterday’s topics.
Yoongi makes a face, grunting under his breath with a vague sort of interest. ‘And… how do your variabilities affect the Earth’s environment?’ he asks, casual as you like – so casual, in fact, that it takes Taehyung a few moments to realise the implications of the question.
He opens his eyes, grinning slowly, though it spreads wide enough to crinkle up his nose. ‘That is the smoothest and nerdiest thing I’ve ever heard you say, hyung,’ he informs him, propping himself up onto his elbow to look at him.
Yoongi seems very happy with himself, a satisfied smirk all over his face. ‘It was good, right?’
Taehyung hums in agreement, leaning in to give him another kiss, his voice dipping low and husky. ‘Oh yeah, hyung, say variabilities one more time and I’ll be fully erect.’
‘You’re a filthy fuckin’ nerd,’ Yoongi snorts, indulging him in one last kiss before he pushes his head back down to where Taehyung had it pillowed on his chest. ‘Go to sleep, Tae.’
Taehyung chuckles quietly, snuggling in close and comfy again, nose pressed up against the black star that’s tattooed in the dip between Yoongi’s collarbones – it’s one of Taehyung’s personal favourites. He hears the quiet thump of the notebook being tossed down to the foot of the bed, then Yoongi reaches over to turn off the lamp, the room falling into welcome darkness.
Finally, after a little more rearranging of the blankets, he settles with his arms draped over Taehyung’s back, his breath warm in his hair. Taehyung starts to hum something low and languid for him as sleep creeps in on them both, lulled himself by the gentle rise and fall of Yoongi’s chest under his cheek.
i was a billion little pieces / ’til you pulled me into focus,
astronomy in reverse / it was me who was discovered.
- “venus” by sleeping at last