Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s hot on the streets of New York this time of year. When it isn’t raining, that is. August is like that. 

Namjoon seeks refuge in a familiar corner store, at least glad to be out of the punishing rays of the sun. He wishes, fleetingly, that he had somewhere to be- somewhere with air conditioning, somewhere indoors, but that somewhere was nowhere. He runs a hand through his hair, feels that it’s left sticking up with sweat in the wake of his fingers.

He can’t bring himself to care.

He fishes around in his pocket, the funds there from the day’s meager taking are enough to get him one bottle of water. That’ll do. It has to, it’s not like he’s got an option.

Knowing he’s overstayed his welcome, feeling that he’s being monitored by the watchful eye of the cashier, he pays for the water and steps back into the unrelenting sunshine.

He silently prays for a breeze, a bucket of water to be thrown on him, he would take anything at this point. He should save for an umbrella. 

There’s a park not far away- he could catch some shade there, unless all of the good benches were taken.

Legs heavy from walking and head light with what he’s sure must be heat exhaustion, he takes off in the direction of the park, it’s a long walk but it’s a familiar one, at least. He hums in time with his footsteps, some song that’s a distant childhood memory, and lets his feet carry him mindlessly towards his destination.

So mindlessly, in fact, that he doesn’t notice the darkening of the sky, the dampness of the wind, until warm, heavy drops fall from the sky in a sudden deluge.

He should be thankful- he did ask for rain, after all- but these clothes are his only clothes, and it won’t do to be soaking wet all night through. He dives for cover in an alley, under a fire escape, cursing his earlier wishes. The fire escape provides a reasonable amount of protection to him, enough that he can dry off in the sun when it inevitably makes its return, more scorching than before.

The rain continues to pour, showing no signs of stopping. Resigned to his fate of living forever under this particular fire escape, he jams his hands sullenly in his pockets, leans back against the wall, and closes his eyes, letting the sounds wash over him. The sound of the rain, of cars on the road, of feet running by. Of feet running closely. Panting near him.

On guard, he jerks himself back into the world. Under the escape across from him, another boy leans against the wall, drenched and panting. He doesn’t seem to have noticed Namjoon standing there. He slides down the wall, crouching, catching his breath. Namjoon watches him. He doesn’t have the demeanor of someone who has been in the city for very long. 

“Hey.” Namjoon calls to him. The boy startles, looks at him with wide eyes. 

“Oh! Hello,” He responds, scrambling to his feet, “I didn’t realize this was someone else’s hiding spot.”

Something about him makes Namjoon smile. 

“Nah,” He waves the boy off, “everyone can hide wherever they want.”

“Oh, good.”

They silently watch the rain for a moment longer. 

“You’re not from here.” Namjoon ventures. 

“Is it that obvious?” The boy’s eyebrows pinch together. 

“A little.”

“Are you saying that because I’m Korean? I'm Korean-American. And you’re Korean too, you know.”

“Oh,” Namjoon laughs, “am I?”

The boy tilts his head at him, confused. 

“Yes?”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” Namjoon laughs again, “but I’m saying that because I can feel it.”

“Oh, can you? Why’s that?”

“I’ve lived here my whole life. You just know these things.”

“I’ve been here a while. Not my whole life,” the boy shrugs, “just my whole last six months.”

“Welcome to the city.” Namjoon gestures to the alley.

“Quaint.” The boy nods. 

They fall quiet again. 

“Hey,” the boy speaks up, “are you hungry?”

“Why?”

“I’m just wondering, are you hungry?”

Namjoon thinks on it for a second. 

“I could eat.”

“Wanna get pizza?”

“Yeah, you’re definitely not from here if you’re offering to get lunch with strangers.” Namjoon smirks.

The boy laughs, and when he does, it’s louder than the rain and stronger than the sun. 

“Okay, okay, it’ll probably get me killed some day,” the boy laughs, “but something tells me you don’t have anywhere to be or anywhere to go, so what do you have to lose?”

“And how do you know that?” Namjoon asks, trying to mask the fact that he’s caught a little off-guard. 

“Sometimes you just know these things.”

Namjoon laughs again. 

“Alright, fair.”

“I’m Hoseok.” The boy smiles. 

“Namjoon.”

“Okay, Namjoon,” Hoseok claps his hands once, sharp and loud, “let’s get pizza.”

Chapter Text

“It’s brave of you to just invite some random person off of the street to get lunch with you. I’m still mystified by it.” Namjoon says around a mouth full of perfectly greasy pepperoni pizza. 

“Well,” Hoseok takes a gulp of his soda, “to be honest, I don’t have many friends. And you looked lonely too.”

“I could be lonely because I’m a bad guy.”

“Could be.” Hoseok shrugs, takes a bite of his cheese slice, and smiles. 

“So, Hoseok with few friends,” Namjoon takes another slice of pizza, “how’d you end up here?”

Hoseok swallows, clears his throat, and sighs. 

“It’s a boring story.”

“No one’s story is boring.” Namjoon assures him, smiling gently. Hoseok eyes him skeptically for a moment, then sits back and sighs again. 

“I come from the middle of nowhere. I always kind of felt like it wasn’t right for me. Like I didn’t fit there. All growing up, it just wasn’t right. ” Hoseok picks at the crust on his pizza, more reserved than Namjoon had seen him so far. 

“So you left.” Namjoon concludes. 

“More like I was booted.” Hoseok pouts a little, Namjoon’s heart clenches in a way he wishes it wouldn’t because he just met this guy. 

“You got kicked out?” 

“Mm-Hmm.” Hoseok nods. Namjoon doesn’t press. 

“Parents suck.”

“Mine don’t, not really. They just— nah, nah. Forget it. What about you?”

“I was born here.”

“Yeah, you told me,” Hoseok rolls his eyes, “but what’s your not-boring story?”

“Well, let’s see,” Namjoon picks a pepperoni off of his pizza, pops it in his mouth, chews for a moment, “I graduated high school at the top of my class. Never missed a day, studied hard, did well, pride of my parents. Pride of my grandparents back in Korea. I wanted to be a social worker. I saw the disadvantage around me,  I wanted to right it, especially in certain demographics.”

Hoseok leans forward, hangs on Namjoon’s words with wide eyes. 

“But my parents didn’t want that. They wanted me to be an engineer or a scientist or something, but that’s not me. I like people. I like community. I like standing for something. We argued about it, always. They asked me constantly, ‘Namjoon, why are you choosing this path?’ Or ‘Namjoon, why don’t you reach for the sky and get out of here?’ and I finally told them, I want to serve people like me. Children who were lost like me. And when they finally picked up what I was putting down, they said no, I will not be gay, not under their roof. And so I’m not under their roof anymore. I’m not under any roof.”

Hoseok’s eyes are somewhat watery, and Namjoon didn’t miss the way that his eyes widened even further when he dropped the word ‘gay’ on him, but he doesn’t ask. He wouldn’t do that to someone. 

“Namjoon,” Hoseok pouts, “that’s horrible.”

“That’s life.” Namjoon shrugs. 

“You know, there’s a church I know of that you could stay in. I know the shelter situation isn’t ideal.”

“Hoseok, we just met, I couldn’t ask you to—“ 

“You didn’t ask. I know a church that will let you stay. If you want. Think on it?”

Namjoon nods, stares at his remaining slice of pizza. 

“I’ll think about it.”

“When you make your mind up, either way, meet me back here tomorrow at 3 pm.”

“Alright,” Namjoon nods again, “I’ll let you know. “

“Okay! Good!” Hoseok beams, bright and shiny once more. 

“Thank you again for the food,” Namjoon smiles sheepishly, “even though you didn’t have to.”

“I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. And see? I knew you weren’t a bad guy.”

Hoseok leaves him there, Namjoon watches him walk down the sidewalk until he can’t see him anymore. Something about Hoseok’s presence was comforting, he felt like an old friend despite the fact that he’d only known him a mere 3 hours. But 3 hours of hiding from the rain, eating pizza and exchanging stories could form a bond, too, Namjoon supposes. 

As he lays down to sleep that night, tucking into his sleeping bag, staring up at the sky from his safe spot on a parking garage rooftop where the security officer would frequently “not notice him” on her rounds, he decides he will take Hoseok up on the church offer after all. Someone doesn’t have to believe in God to take refuge in his house, right?

Chapter Text

Namjoon is antsy as he waits on the corner by the pizza shop for Hoseok. He’s starting to second-guess himself; maybe this wasn’t a good idea. He hadn’t survived on the streets by trusting just anyone, after all, he wasn’t that dumb. But there was something about Hoseok that said that Namjoon could trust him, something unquantifiable that screamed purity and integrity. 

And he was really, really undeniably attractive, which didn’t hurt matters at all. 

“Hey, Namjoon! You should have come in!” He hears Hoseok’s voice from behind him. He turns to face Hoseok, who’s waving at him enthusiastically from the door to the restaurant, wearing a sauce-covered apron and an enormous smile. 

“Oh hey,” Namjoon approaches him with a smile, “you work here.”

“I do,” Hoseok nods and removes his apron, the smile never leaving his face, “are you hungry?”

He’s a breath of fresh air just as he was the day before. Namjoon feels a flush creep up his neck, hotter than the sun he’s been standing in, and curses himself. 

“Uh, kinda. Are you sure this is okay?” Namjoon rubs at the back of his neck, trying to will the rising heat away. 

“Of course, it’s nothing. Come in, come in!” Hoseok grabs his elbow, pulls him into the air conditioning, and plops him down in a booth. The place is busy, but then again, isn’t every pizza place in the city busy? Hoseok sits on the bench across from him, gestures to the menu above the service counter. 

“What do you recommend?” Namjoon eyes the menu, not really used to having much of a choice in what he eats. 

“I like calzones. Stuffed with veggies, so even though it’s actually not healthy, you can pretend it is. Classic cheese slice is always perfect. Maybe you’re a salad guy?”

Namjoon actually laughs at that, he’s not an anything guy, he’s just fucking hungry. 

“Okay, no salad.” Hoseok laughs, it’s a loud, bright sound, and Namjoon feels himself inching a little closer to ‘crushing hard’ on the guy.

“Yeah, hard pass.”

“Hmm. Italian sausage and a coke?” Hoseok suggests, eyebrows raised in thought. 

“Yeah. Perfect.” Namjoon agrees, mostly about the pizza, but maybe a little about Hoseok, too. 

“Okay, stay here,” Hoseok slaps the table and slides out of the booth, “your order will be up.”

He slings his apron back on, ties the strings behind him with what Namjoon might have noticed are lovely, delicate hands. He has to stop himself from literally smacking himself out of it.

It’s not long before Hoseok returns with two slices of Italian sausage pizza, a calzone, and two cokes. Namjoon’s stomach practically squeals in delight as soon as the smell hits him. 

“You’re positive that this is okay?” Namjoon asks, grabbing one of the slices more hesitantly than he really wants to. 

“Yes, yes, yes. Employee privilege.” Hoseok assures him again, biting into his lunch. 

“What a privilege it is.” Namjoon smiles and bites into his pizza. He thinks he could eat this pizza forever. 

“Bite?” Hoseok holds his calzone out to him, wiggles it around a little. It smells delightful. 

“Yeah, why not?” Namjoon shrugs and reaches for it, his fingers brush Hoseok’s hand and his heart maybe flutters a little. 

Jesus, what are you, a school child? Get a grip, Namjoon. 

“It’s good, right?” Hoseok grins as Namjoon chews, “I made it myself.”

“Can I please eat your greasy food forever?” Namjoon groans, it’s been quite a while since he ate two days in a row, and such indulgent food at that. Hoseok grins at him proudly, sitting a little taller. 

“It’s possible,” he grins, “I bring food to the church after every shift.”

“Ah, about that,” Namjoon takes a sip of his soda, his mouth suddenly dry, “I don’t know, Hoseok. The street is familiar to me, you know? I have a safe spot to sleep in.”

“What about in the winter?” Hoseok looks concerned. 

“Okay, I won’t lie, winter does suck. But I don’t know about staying in a church.” Namjoon shrugs. 

“It beats a shelter, right? And it certainly beats outside.” Hoseok encourages him.

“Facts, but I don’t, you know. Believe in God?”

“And? Who said you have to?”

“I kind of assumed that was a prerequisite, considering the whole church thing.”

“No, no,” Hoseok laughs, bites into his food again, “promise. No saving, no conversion, no preaching.”

“Because organized religion is kinda culty and I’m not trying to drink the kool-aid.” 

“There is no cult activity, that much I can promise.” Hoseok laughs. 

God, that laugh. That smile. Fuck. 

“Okay,” Namjoon nods, “okay. I guess I’ll stay in this church.”

“Oh! Oh good.” Hoseok grins, delighted, and it’s warm and endearing and Namjoon thinks he’d agree to almost anything to make that smile happen. 

He was really and truly fucked.

Chapter Text

Namjoon hovers around the back door of the pizza shop, waiting a little less than patiently for Hoseok’s shift to be over. He moves his possessions- a backpack and a sleeping bag- from one shoulder to the other anxiously, still doubting the choice he had made. Namjoon? 

In a church? 

Sleeping, living in a church? 

The concept was surreal to him, he hadn’t set foot in any church since he had a distant family member die over a decade ago. Organized religion put a deeply sour feeling in his stomach and something not too far from fear in his heart. Namjoon was a free thinker, an independent, and most conflicting of all, gay. Religion and him didn’t exactly mesh well, in his experience, so the idea that he would be taking residence inside of God’s four walls was making his head reel. He chews anxiously at his fingernails, he can’t stay still. He thinks he may be more anxious about this than he had been over anything in a very long time. 

“Namjoon,” Hoseok breezes out of the squeaky metal door and into the alley, “I’m off! And I have dinner!”

Okay, now he’s not so hesitant. 

“Hey,” Namjoon reaches out, takes one of of the bags full of take-out boxes from Hoseok’s hands, “I was wondering if your shift would ever end.”

“You and me both!” Hoseok laughs, reaching into the bag in his hand, and shoves a couple of fries into his mouth. He grins in satisfaction, reaches in and pulls out a few more, offering them up to Namjoon. They’re crispy and fluffy and perfect. 

“‘Man, I wish I’d have known you when I was a teenager, you’d have been my drunk food go-to.” Namjoon laughs. 

“I could be your drunk food go-to now, if you want. There’s no shortage of abandoned orders at the shop.” Hoseok shrugs, munches on another bunch of fries. 

“You’re feeding me, taking me to housing, and you want to be my friend? I’m not so sure you’re alright in the head after all, Hoseok.” Namjoon laughs again. 

“Guess you’ll just have to keep hanging around and see.” Hoseok grins at him and winks- winks at him!- and Namjoon sweats a little harder, even though the sun is starting to sink below the skyscrapers and the evening breeze is picking up. 

They walk in comfortable silence for a bit, Namjoon maybe a step or two behind Hoseok, who’s now walking with the confidence of someone who knows they’re almost home. It’s maybe just a few minutes later when they approach the church. 

It’s not at all what Namjoon had imagined. The word “church” evoked a vivid image in his head: grand spires, stained glass windows, looming doors- a sort of decadence that seemed unironic and painfully not self-aware. But this place was quaint, charming, and not at all the cold and foreboding entity that Namjoon had constructed in his head. He stands on the sidewalk, staring and the cherrywood doors in front of him. 

“Come over here.” Hoseok grabs him by the elbow, pulls him to a smaller side door, and lets himself in. 

It’s now or never. 

Namjoon climbs the few small steps in front of him, stepping into the room behind Hoseok. It looks like a small study; there’s a desk with a lamp and two small armchairs in front of it, several bookcases filled with different versions of the Bible and various theological and philosophical texts. It feels homey and comfortable and Namjoon thinks he could sit in one of those armchairs and read from the bookcase forever, if there wasn’t a painting of Christ himself staring him down. 

“Sit, sit,” Hoseok gestures to the arm chairs, “I’ll go find him.”

Namjoon sets his bags down and does as he’s instructed as Hoseok slips through one of the other two doors in the room in search of who Namjoon is assuming would be the priest. He looks over the desk- this priest must also be different than what Namjoon had assumed he’d be. The desk had several cute little knickknacks lined up on it, ranging from a tiny little rubber red-and-blue yellow polka dotted alien to a snow globe. He picks the snow globe up and shakes it, watches the little chunks of glitter fall down on the figure inside- an alpaca in a field. The door swings open again and Namjoon rushes to put the snow globe back, narrowly avoiding knocking over a coffee mug that read “We’re all God’s children, but I’m his favorite.”

“Namjoon,” Hoseok gestures toward him, “this is Father Kim.”

Namjoon is stunned. That is not the face of a priest. 

“Oh, hello!” Namjoon stands and extends his hand. 

“No, no,” Father Kim laughs, holds his hands up, “no need for formality. It’s fine. It’s a pleasure to meet you, though. Hoseok told me yesterday you’d be coming to see us. So welcome to Holy Spirit Church, Namjoon. Would you like a tour?”

“Well, this is home now, so,” Namjoon looks between Father Kim and Hoseok, “yes?”

“Come with me.” Father Kim turns and gestures for him to follow.

“Hoseok,” Namjoon grabs him by the elbow, “this isn’t real. Priests don’t look like that.”

Hoseok laughs loudly. 

“Father Kim? He’s very popular with the lady parishioners. Come on. Let’s go.” Hoseok grabs him by the wrist and pulls him toward the door.

Namjoon closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and follows Hoseok into the beginning of the next chapter of his life.

Chapter Text

The vestibule of the church is quaint, and cute, and the walls are decorated with drawings and finger paintings and coloring book pages. There’s a bulletin board of local events, notices for charity drives, a flyer advertising counseling services. Namjoon shuffles his bags awkwardly on his shoulders, this was all so very surreal. 

“This,” Father Kim gestures to the art decorating the wall, “is art from our Children’s Church Sunday school class, held right down the hall, which is led by a local kindergarten teacher who I’m sure you’ll meet eventually. This is our community notice board. Anything and everything on this board applies to anyone in the community, whether they’re a member of the church or otherwise. We offer food bank services, counseling, coats in the winter, water in the summer, and obviously, shelter. You can follow me.”

He leads them down the hall, out into a modestly-sized, comfortably religious room. Pews sit in two parallel rows, as Namjoon assumes that they typically do.

“Over there are the confessionals,” Father Kim gestures across the room, “over there is the donation receipt-slash-storage area. These are the pews, as you can see.”

“It’s nice.” Namjoon takes in the room around him. It’s bright, not stuffy, and he’s surprisingly not put off by the environment.

“Up there is where I do my thing,” Father Kim gestures to a raised podium standing in front of a crucifix, probably the most intimidating part of the whole thing, “and back here is the meeting area and kitchen. Follow me.”

“This is actually his favorite part.” Hoseok leans in to Namjoon. He still smells like outside, warmth radiating from his skin.

“Here in the meeting area, we do AA, NA, group counselling, and sometimes birthdays. This is also a safe zone for anyone who should feel they need it- little to no questions asked.” Father Kim gives a sweeping gesture around the room. There are chairs stacked neatly in the corner, tables pushed to the sides.  On the walls hang more drawings, banners in various different languages, Korean included, and-what catches his interest most of all- a large, prominently displayed banner reading in big, bold, rainbow letters: “God loves ALL of his children.”

He steps further into the room, something feels right in there. His eyes stay fixed on the banner, he’s more touched than he would expect to be.

“They really mean that here, Namjoon,” Hoseok steps up beside him. “truly.”

“We don’t discriminate and we don’t exclude. There is no place in religion-and no place in my own personal heart- for alienation, denial, or judgement,” Father Kim assures, “no one in need will ever be turned away here.” 

“That’s. That’s really beautiful, Father Kim.” Namjoon nods, suddenly overcome with feeling.

“Maybe so, but really it’s just what’s right. Love above all things. Right, Hobi?” Father Kim smiles over to Hoseok.

“Love above all things.” Hoseok echoes with a nod.

“Hobi?” Namjoon smiles.

“Ah, that’s my nickname around here. Hobi.” Hoseok ducks his head, blushing. 

It’s so, so cute. Painfully cute. Dangerously cute.

“So,” Father Kim pats Namjoon on the back, “let’s continue.” 

He leads them from the room and into the kitchen, where a few people are busy working on what looks like enough pasta to feed a small army.

“Yoongi,” Father Kim calls, “come here, please.”

A man with dark hair and sharp features approaches, wiping his hands on his apron.

“What’s up? I’m making dinner.”

“This is Namjoon, he’ll be staying. Namjoon, this is Yoongi. He’s an activity director. He brought us Hoseok here, and his partner is the Sunday School teacher I mentioned earlier.” 

“Good to meet you.” Namjoon extends his hand. Yoongi raises his own hands in the air, leaves Namjoon hanging.

“I don’t shake,” Yoongi nods, “but good to meet you. How are you at cooking? Can you lend a hand?”

“Uh, maybe?” Namjoon looks to Father Kim.

“I can help. Tell me where.” Hoseok reaches and pulls on an apron.

“Oh, thank god. Okay, I need you over here--” Yoongi pulls Hoseok away, guiding him towards the back of the room.

“We have breakfast, lunch, and dinner services every day except Monday. Anyone can come eat, we encourage community bonding, but it puts Yoongi in a tight spot sometimes if there aren’t enough volunteers. Typically we draw from residents who aren’t employed to volunteer first. It’s not required, but it’s extremely appreciated and very common. Now. Would you like to see where you’re staying?” Father Kim smiles and gestures to a door. Namjoon nods, follows him out into the sunshine.

“I had no idea there was so much to a church.” 

“Oh, there’s a lot. It’s not just an hour on Sunday. We’re very community-involved, but that makes us very busy, as well. It’s rewarding, though, and the community around us does well because of it, and when we need them, they do well for us,” he opens a small gate, holds it open for Namjoon, “it’s a very good relationship.”

He leads Namjoon down a small alley, up a short flight of stairs. A young man is perched on a ladder there, painting a high railing.

“Taehyungie, is the bed ready?” Father Kim calls up to him.

“Oh, yes! It’s been ready. It was born ready.” The boy climbs down the ladder, there’s paint on his cheek and a smile on his face.

“This is Namjoon. He’ll be staying with us. Namjoon,” Father Kim gestures to the boy, “this is Taehyung, my younger sibling, in charge of things like maintenance and prepping the rooms when we have new people coming in. Current art school student in Manhattan with extreme talent, but stays here because it’s very, very expensive.” 

“He takes care of me,” Taehyung beams, “want me to take him up?”

“That would be wonderful. I have to prep for dinner services,” Father Kim pats Namjoon on the back, “welcome, Namjoon. You can stay here for a day, you can stay here indefinitely. This is your home now, however long you want it to be.” 

“Come with me!” Taehyung links arms with him, leads him down an open-air hallway and up a flight of stairs. It’s quaint, if not a little shabby, but Namjoon was in absolutely no position to turn down any kind of shelter because it was maybe a little outdated. 

“So where are you from?” Taehyung asks, rounding a corner and pulling him up another flight. 

“I grew up here, in Brooklyn. You?”

“Jin-oof, Father Kim- and I were both actually born in Korea. I came here when I was six months old. I don’t remember it. But we grew up in Queens. One more flight, okay?”

“His name is Jin?”

“Seokjin.”

“It’s nice to hear Korean names.”

“Wasn’t nice in high school,” Taehyung grumbles, “hey kimchi boy! Hey do you eat dogs? Blah blah racism. You know.”

“I’m sorry. That’s so unfair.” Namjoon says sincerely. 

“Well, who’s in art school now, hmm?” Taehyung grins, smug and proud. 

He should be smug, he should be proud. 

“Rise above it, right?”

“Here we are!” Taehyung flings open a wooden door. 

It opens to a small living area, a small kitchen, and three other doors. Taehyung enters, gestures for Namjoon to follow. 

“Cute.” Namjoon nods. Taehyung begins pointing around the room. 

“That is the bathroom, that is your bedroom, and that is my bedroom. Welcome home, roomie,” he grins, “make yourself at home. I don’t cook often, I usually eat at the community meals or what Hobi brings home, but there’s always bread, milk, water and soda. I keep the soda stocked always because Hobi hangs out with me a lot and he loooooves soda.”

“He brought me here. He’s sweet.”

“He’s like the sun, Namjoon,” Taehyung agrees, “I have to get back to work, but please get comfortable. Want me to get you at meal time?”

It hits Namjoon just how hungry he is.

“Yes, please, that would be wonderful.”

“You got it!” Taehyung salutes, walking backwards out of the door with a grin. He shuts it behind him, and Namjoon is left alone in his new home.

His home. Under a roof.

He opens the door that Taehyung had indicated was his room, there’s a bed, a desk with a chair, a radio, a dresser, and a small tube TV. He was grateful for the bed alone, he didn’t expect anything more, this was almost luxurious.

He drops his bags on the floor by the desk, flops onto the bed. It’s soft. It’s clean. It smells good.

With sudden realization, he sits up like he’s been struck by lightning. He can take a shower.

It’s the greatest ten minutes of his life. The water is warm, the soap is fragrant, his skin is clean. 

He fishes a pair of shorts and a tank top from his bag, purchased just the day before at a thrift store with change he’d managed to collect. They’re clean, he’s clean, he has a home, he has a friend. Everything is wonderful.

He clicks the radio on, a chill R&B station plays softly. He flops back onto the bed, stares at the ceiling. 

His ceiling. 

His bed. 

His radio.

He’s so happy.

He drifts off to sleep to a mellow bass line.

Chapter Text

“Namjoon. Namjoon. Hey, Namjoon.”

He’s not sure what’s going on but someone is too close, someone is touching him. He startles, reaches out on instinct, and hits the person in the face. 

Then the world comes back to him and he realizes. 

“Oh my god, Taehyung,” Namjoon sits bolt upright in his bed, reaches out for Taehyung, “holy shit, I’m sorry. I forgot where I was. I’m sorry.”

Taehyung sits at the foot of the bed, eyes wide, his face suspended somewhere between disbelief and amusement. 

“Woooooow,” Taehyung drawls, holding his reddened cheek, “I’m never gonna tell you there’s spaghetti ever again.”

“Is assaulting the Father’s brother cause for eviction?” Namjoon grimaces. 

“No, because this is breaking and entering. That was self-defense,” Taehyung shrugs, reaches for Namjoon’s hand to pull him out of bed, “I’m sure physical violence makes you hungry. Want some pasta?”

“I’d love some pasta.” Namjoon smiles, takes his hand. He’s not quite awake yet, barely absorbing what Taehyung is telling him as he pulls him by the hand through the apartment and out of their front door. The sun is still up and the air is still thick, but there’s a pleasant breeze out and he feels refreshed. 

“Hungry, neighbor?” Taehyung stops to ask Hoseok, who leans against the door next to theirs. 

“The hungriest!” Hoseok grins. 

“Hoseok has been next door to me- us, now- for...um…”

“Three months. Next week.”

“Three months next week.” Taehyung echoes with a nod. 

“Did you sleep well?” Hoseok asks, pushing off of his door and falling into step beside Namjoon. 

Namjoon realizes it’s the first time he’s really seen Hoseok outside of his workplace and in his own element, in his own space. He’s out of uniform, wearing a loose white t-shirt, knee-length denim shorts, a backwards ball cap, and that same smile that never seems to leave his face. He walks closely beside Namjoon, hands in his back pockets. 

“The breeze is nice, isn’t it?” Hoseok closes his eyes as he strolls slowly, lifting his face to the sun. 

Namjoon’s throat goes a little dry. 

“Uh-huh.” Is all he can manage as he does his best not to stare. 

“Did you like being in a bed?” Hoseok turns to face him, smile still lingering on his lips. 

“Huh? Oh, yeah, it was fantastic. The shower was even better.”

“See? I told you. You’re a changed man already.” Hoseok winks 

Fuck. 

They approach the church, Taehyung holds the gate open for them, Hoseok pinches his cheek on the way past. 

“Follow me, Namjoon,” Hoseok calls over his shoulder, “I’ll lead you to dinner.”

Namjoon thinks he might follow him anywhere, but dinner was a good start. 

Hoseok holds the door open, and Taehyung whizzes past them to get in first. Laughing and shaking his head, Hoseok follows him, Namjoon trailing behind. 

He follows him to what he’s decided to call the multi-purpose room, all the tables and chairs that had been pushed to the side earlier were now set up, and then some. The room was reasonably full, people gathered around with paper plates and plastic cups and chit-chatting idly. The window is open and the breeze blows in and it doesn’t feel at all like a church. It hasn’t felt like a church at all yet. 

“Hoseok! Namjoon,” Father Kim’s voice calls from behind them. Father Kim leans against the doorframe, smile on his face, a young boy at his side, “come here, please!”

As they approach, the younger boy leans in and whispers something to Father Kim, who laughs and slaps him lightly on the shoulder. 

“Assaulting minors, Father?” Hoseok smirks. 

“He’s not a minor, he’s a menace. Namjoon,” Father Kim gestures to him, then to the boy, “this is Jungkook. He’s shadowing me, he intends to be a priest one day as well, just like his favorite adult.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Jungkook teases with a grin, “it also counts as community service.”

“A criminal now, Jungkookie?!” Hoseok exclaims, eyes wide. 

“ High school community service, Hobi. Extra credit. Is this the face of a criminal?” Jungkook points to his own face and grins widely, shiny white teeth on display. 

“It absolutely is,” Father Kim teases him, “take them to get food. Feed the people, Jeon Jungkook.”

“Come on. Let’s eat.” Jungkook gestures for them to follow. 

They join a short line leading into the kitchen, each grabbing a plate, a plastic fork and spoon, and a cup. 

“So, Namjoon, how long have you been here? I’ve never seen you.” Jungkook asks as they move forward in line. 

“Five hours?” 

“Ah, that explains it.”

“Hoseok brought me in.”

“A reliable source.” Jungkook nods. 

“The most reliable!” Hoseok shoots a finger gun at Jungkook, Jungkook pretends to be shot. 

“Everyone is so close here.” Namjoon observes, maybe feeling a little left out. 

“Ah, it’s really just six of us that are tight,” Hoseok grabs a packet of butter, “we’re all about the same age, Baby Jungkookie excluded.”

“Hobi, stoooop.” Jungkook pouts. 

“Case in point,” Hoseok smirks, “but we all share similar experiences, similar stories. We’re all really different but we click, you know?”

“Do you think I’ll click?”

“You’ll click. For sure.” Jungkook nods, ushering him forward in line.

The kitchen has been opened up, much resembling a school cafeteria, on a smaller scale. Volunteers stand behind a counter, scooping servings onto plates. Taehyung waves to them as they approach, grinning broadly. 

“Vegetables?” He asks, gesturing to the pot in front of him. 

“Load me up!” Hoseok extends his plate. Taehyung does, indeed, load him up. 

“Namjoon? Veggies?” Taehyung offers. 

Namjoon doesn’t know who he’s becoming, but vegetables sound delightful. 

“Please.” Namjoon holds his plate out, Taehyung gives him a generous helping. 

“And you, Jungkookie? Carrots, maybe? Hmm, bunny?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, but smiles. It wasn’t until Taehyung mentioned it that Namjoon even noticed his bunny teeth. 

“Feed the people first.” Jungkook scolds him. 

“You’re my people, Jungkook.” Taehyung holds his hands over his heart. 

“Hey,” an unfamiliar voice calls from further down, “keep the line moving, please!” 

“And change your gloves, Kim Taehyung!” Namjoon recognizes that voice as Yoongi Who Doesn’t Shake Hands. 

They slide down the line, and Hoseok holds his plate out at Yoongi like he’ll die if he doesn’t get the spaghetti. 

“Lots?” Yoongi scoops into his pot. 

“Lots.” Hoseok nods. Yoongi gives him an extra scoop, Hoseok slides down the line. 

“Please?” Namjoon extends his plate. 

“This isn’t Oliver Twist, Jesus Christ,” Yoongi scoops noodles into the plate, “more?”

“No, that’s good. Thank you.” Namjoon gives him a little bow. Yoongi’s brow furrows, he looks...confused? Disgusted? Namjoon can’t quite tell. Whatever it is, he awkwardly bows back and Namjoon feels slightly shamed as he slides down the line. 

“Jimin,” Hoseok gestures toward Namjoon with his head as he holds his plate out, “this is Namjoon. He’s my friend.”

Jimin places a garlic roll on Hoseok’s plate, seems to think for a second, and then gives him another. 

“Namjoon,” Jimin nods with a smile as Namjoon holds his own plate out, “nice to meet you.”

Jimin reaches over and gives him a roll as well, his silver wedding band visible through his clear glove. Namjoon glances back to Yoongi’s hand, he’s wearing a matching one. This is Yoongi’s partner, Namjoon files away in his brain for future reference. 

“Now this I will take.” Jungkook reaches forward, Jimin casually tosses him a roll. 

“Maybe don’t throw things in a kitchen?” Yoongi scolds. 

“Be nice.” Jimin scolds back, bumps their hips together. Yoongi gives a small smile down into his pot of spaghetti as he stirs it. 

Yoongi is that type. Namjoon also files that away. 

“Come on, I’m hungry, let’s go.” Hoseok sprinkles a generous amount of cheese onto his pasta, then scurries off with his plate fully loaded. Namjoon smiles and nods in thanks and rushes off behind him. They swing by a cart stocked with water pitchers, juice boxes, and little milk jugs before heading back out the door. 

“Eating outside sound good?” Hoseok asks as he leads Namjoon to a hidden picnic table tucked away in the shade between the building and a fence. 

“It’s what I always did before.” Namjoon shrugs. 

“Oh, that’s a good point. Inside, then?” Hoseok turns to him. 

“No, no, let’s eat out here. There’s a lot going on in there.” Namjoon nods. 

“This is Father Kim’s secret spot,” Hoseok explains as they sit down, “he comes out here sometimes to think and plan and write.”

“And stare into space in peace.” Jungkook adds, tearing into his garlic roll. 

“He loves his work, but I think it takes a toll on him.” Hoseok sighs, takes a heaping bite of spaghetti. 

“It does. He loves these people so much. He takes their burdens. It’s hard.” Jungkook takes a gulp of his chocolate milk. 

“Milk? In this heat?” Namjoon shudders at the idea of sour milk stomach. 

“Strong bones, strong muscles, and chocolate. Chocolate milk in all weather.” 

“Except it doesn’t belong to you, it belongs to baby cows, and it shouldn’t be chocolate.” The voice that Namjoon now recognizes as Jimin, Yoongi’s Partner comes from behind them. 

Jungkook looks at the bottle in his hand, then looks at Jimin. 

“Tastes like this one belongs to me.” Jungkook smiles and shakes the tiny jug. Jimin shakes his head, he and Yoongi approach the table. Namjoon looks at them, then back at his plate, his pasta coated in a thick layer of cheese much like Hoseok’s, then looks back at Jimin. 

“Um.” Namjoon mumbles, scrapes his cheese off the pasta. 

“Well it’s tainted now. Do you know what’s in cheese? Do you know what they do to cows?!” Jimin asks. 

Namjoon feels his eyes widen. 

“Um— I’m—“ He scrambles for words. 

Jimin bursts into laughter, Yoongi shakes his head beside him. 

“You’re so rude.” Yoongi smirks, swirls his spaghetti around his fork. 

“I’m teasing, I’m teasing,” Jimin reaches across, grabs Namjoon’s arm. Namjoon pulls back a little, he’s not used to these people who use touch to communicate. Jimin pulls his hand back and tears apart his roll, “you do what you want.”

“Jimin’s a vegan and likes to make sure everyone knows.” Yoongi bumps his shoulder. Jimin turns to pout at him. 

“I said I’m teasing! Don’t scare him off! Namjoon,” Jimin turns back to him, “he’s half right. I don’t eat animal. But anyway. When did you get here? Tell me everything.”

“Me? Oh. I got here a few hours ago. Hoseok brought me. This is kind of like being a new kid in school. It’s weird. I feel weird.” Namjoon nods, pushes his food around on his plate. 

“At least you’re at the cool kid table.” Taehyung approaches the table as well, a plate balanced on each hand, and wiggles his way in between Namjoon and Jungkook. 

“We’re learning about Namjoon.” Jungkook informs him, takes one of the plates from Taehyung, and scoops an unbelievable amount of spaghetti into his mouth. 

“And Jimin is being classist and giving him a hard time.” Yoongi smirks, pops a green bean into his mouth. Jimin scoffs at him, slaps his shoulder. 

Namjoon is suddenly overcome with something he’s never felt before- the desire to be part of a group. He really, really wants to be friends with these people. But mostly he finds that his gaze keeps wandering to Hoseok, finding little details to examine. He’s got lovely hands, even simple movements like pulling apart his bread or twirling his pasta are graceful and fluid. His skin is radiant and sun-kissed, like he’d spent the last three days at the beach. His hair is dark and thick and shiny, curling around his ears with the humidity in the air. His eyes when he laughs are bright and enthusiastic, his smile even brighter, when he doesn’t hide it behind his hand. 

He feels eyes on him, looks over to see Yoongi staring intently at him, a small smirk on his face as he looks from Namjoon to Hoseok and then back to Namjoon. Namjoon feels his ears go red, he ducks his head and busies himself with his vegetables. 

He doesn’t know how much of the conversation he’s missed, but it must have been quite a bit, as Yoongi and Taehyung are clearing everyone’s plates and ushering them inside. The sun is starting to set and Yoongi doesn’t want Jimin walking home alone in the dark, even though Jimin insists he’s fine, and Jungkook teases that Jimin is Yoongi’s ‘get away with anything card’, and Yoongi doesn’t argue, he just smirks and takes his leave with Jimin as the rest continue to clean up. Namjoon pitches in, it seems only right, and between him, Hoseok, Taehyung, Jungkook, and a few other volunteers, it’s not a difficult task and they’re done in no time. Taehyung tells them goodnight, he’s got an early class and has to go to bed. Jungkook excuses himself and slips into the multi-purpose room, closes the door behind him. Namjoon peeks through the glass panel of the wooden door, the tables have been pushed to the side, chairs now arranged in a circle, Jungkook scurries over and takes an empty seat next to Father Kim. There’s one other empty seat, but for the most part, the chairs are full, everyone facing each other. 

“Tuesdays and Thursdays are group counseling,” Hoseok informs him, “Father Kim leads and Jungkook learns.”

“Ah. I’ll mind my business, then.” Namjoon nods. 

“It’s still kind of early,” Hoseok points to a clock on the wall, it’s 9:15, “wanna get ice cream and I’ll show you my hangout spot?”

“I don’t have any money.” Namjoon grimaces. 

“I didn’t say you needed any.” Hoseok shrugs, sticks his hands in his back pockets, and gestures with his head toward the door. 

“Okay,” Namjoon nods, “yeah. Let’s go get ice cream.”

They stroll to the corner store, Namjoon chooses a ChocoTaco, Hoseok chooses an orange creamsicle. He even indulges them in an extra large soda. 

“Mmm,” Hoseok grins as he takes a nibble of the popsicle, then takes a sip from the straw, “all my favorite citrus is represented here. Sip?” 

Namjoon leans in and takes a sip from the straw, still orange-flavored from Hoseok’s lips, and his heart double-thumps in his chest. He doesn’t even really like Sprite, but now he thinks he might. 

“If you were a soda you’d be Sprite.” Namjoon assess him. 

“Oh? Hmm,” Hoseok stops, takes another sip of the giant soda, “if you were a soda, you’d be...wild cherry Pepsi.”

“Pepsi? Do you hate me?”

“No no no,” Hoseok laughs, “it’s like, you see it, and it’s appealing because you like cherry, but you’re hesitant, but you grab it anyway, and it turns out it’s really great and you’re glad you took a chance.”

Namjoon’s stomach does an entire flip. 

Appealing. No, stop it. It’s just a silly comparison. Stop it. 

“Well, now I’m less insulted.” Namjoon laughs awkwardly, thankful for the dark hiding the flush that undoubtedly just engulfed his entire body. 

“Let me show you my hangout,” Hoseok smiles, turns on his heel and starts down an alley, “follow me.”

Namjoon follows him down a series of alleys, until they find what looks like an abandoned old apartment building. Hoseok climbs the exterior wooden stairs confidently, sets his soda on the thick handrail and climbs up a questionable looking metal ladder, grasping firmly to the rungs, his popsicle still clenched in his hand somehow. 

“Hoseok, are you sure?” Namjoon asks tentatively. 

“Positive, come on.”

Namjoon follows him up, they’re on the rooftop. Hoseok rushes his way across the distance, Namjoon close behind, and leans against the raised cement half-wall, hand in his chin, breeze ruffling his hair. 

“Wow.” Namjoon whispers. 

“I know. Look at it sparkle.” Hoseok sighs happily. 

“It does sparkle.” Namjoon agrees, then turns his attention to wherever on the horizon Hoseok is staring. Manhattan’s skyline glimmers in the distance. 

“I’d like to imagine I’ll have a place over there someday.” Hoseok smiles whimsically, takes a nibble of his popsicle. 

“You could. I think you could do anything.” Namjoon says sincerely, leans against the wall with him. 

“Really?” Hoseok turns to him, closer than Namjoon expected him to be, but he’s not complaining.

“Really.” Namjoon confirms. 

Hoseok smiles, it’s not as big as it usually is, but Namjoon can tell it’s genuine. He turns his attention back to the skyline, Namjoon does the same. 

They’re quiet for a while, staring at the horizon side by side. The breeze picks up, thunder rumbles in the distance. 

“Ah, that’s our cue, I think.” Hoseok pouts in disappointment. Namjoon never wants to see his face sad again. 

“I’m exhausted anyway. Social. People. You know.” Namjoon pushes himself off the wall. 

“I don’t, but I accept it,” Hoseok smiles, “let’s go home.”

Hoseok leads him down the alleyways again, and Namjoon hopes that one day they’ll have come often enough that he’ll remember the way on his own. 

“This is me,” Hoseok yawns when they reach his door, “see you tomorrow?”

“See you then.” Namjoon agrees as Hoseok slips into his apartment. 

Namjoon creeps into his own apartment, careful not to make a stir and wake Taehyung. He downs a glass of water, strips down to his underwear, flips on the radio, and slides into bed. 

As he’s just drifting off, there's a knock above his head. 

“Namjoon?” Hoseok’s voice comes in a whisper from the other side of the wall. 

“Hoseok?”

“I had fun today. Thank you.”

Namjoon’s heart swells. 

“I did, too, Hobi. Thank you.”

“Good night, Namjoon.”

“Good night, Hobi.”

Chapter Text

Namjoon wakes with the sun, and at least this time, he remembers where he is. He stares at the ceiling, remembering again the feeling of being in an actual bed and not wanting to get out of it in the morning. He stretches his limbs out the furthest they can possibly go, languishes in the feeling of not waking up on concrete, and smiles. There’s a soft knock at his door, he pushes himself up and swings his legs over the side of the bed. 

“Come in.” He yawns, rubs the sleep from his eyes. Taehyung pushes the door open and pops his head in. 

“Hey, I’m going off to class and I didn’t know if you drink coffee? I don’t, but there’s always coffee ready in Jin’s office and the cafeteria and you should probably fix your hair.”

“Oh? Oh,” Namjoon laughs sleepily, smoothies his hair down, “thanks. It does whatever.”

“I’m out now! Have a good day!” Taehyung gives a chipper wave and closes the door gently behind him. 

Namjoon shuffles to the bathroom, washes his face, and throws on the previous day’s clothes. The sun is rising and he remembers that the previous day was Thursday, then pities Taehyung for having such an early class on a Friday. 

Taehyung had told him to have a good day, and it occurs to him that he doesn’t know what his days will look like now. For a lack of any better activity, he wanders his way to the church, slips in through the kitchen, the smell of sausage and coffee hits his nose. 

“Good morning.” A sleepy voice startles him. Jungkook stands at the microwave, energy drink in hand, looking half-aware and suspicious at the same time. He quickly yanks the door open and retrieves the paper-wrapped breakfast sandwich inside before slamming the door shut again. 

“Good morning, are you alright?” Namjoon laughs, approaching him. 

“I don’t really...trust them?” Jungkook gestures to the microwave with his elbow as he undoes the paper around his sausage biscuit. 

“Kitchen appliances?”

“Microwaves. Specifically microwaves. I just don’t.” Jungkook shrugs, takes a big bite of his breakfast. 

“Okay,” Namjoon nods slowly, “um. Where is the coffee?”

“There,” Jungkook mumbles around a mouthful of sausage and egg, “there are kitchen staff mugs in the cabinet below.”

Namjoon takes note, maps the kitchen out in his head. You never know when you’ll need to be somewhere in a hurry, kitchens included. 

“What are you doing here so early? School hasn’t started back up for the fall yet.” Namjoon pours himself a mug of coffee, the scent alone gets his blood pumping. Jungkook hops up onto the counter next to the pot, swinging his legs gently as he nibbles his sandwich and sips his drink. 

“I come to prep things in the morning for breakfast services, and make sure the coffee is ready for staff. When I’m a priest, that’ll be part of my job at my church. And this way, Father Kim has less to do or worry about in the morning, so that’s nice for him,” he pauses for a sip of his sickly-sweet smelling drink, “but I didn’t say that, okay?”

“Noted.” Namjoon laughs, sips his coffee, and leans back against the counter. 

“You’re wearing yesterday’s clothes.” Jungkook assesses him. 

“I have like...four articles of clothing.”

“You should have Father Kim or Yoongi let you into the donation room today. Plenty to pick from there. If you’re extra nice, Taehyung will probably even help you do your laundry in the laundry room rather than making you go to a laundromat.” 

“You have all the tips, don’t you?” 

“He’s a better listener than he pretends he is,” Father Kim smiles fondly as he makes his way into the kitchen, “so don’t let him fool you.”

“You’re a fool.” Jungkook grins around another bite of sandwich. 

“I can’t remember which one it is right now, but I’m sure that insulting a priest is some variety of sin.”

“Yeah, it for sure isn’t.” Jungkook laughs. 

“Respect your elders.”

“ Way elder.”

“Don’t you have breakfast to prep?”

Jungkook smirks, jumps down off the counter. 

“That’s how you know I won,” Jungkook winks at Namjoon, then turns to Father Kim, “it’s Friday?”

“Friday. Hash browns, toast and pancakes.”

“Hash browns. Toast. Pancakes. On it.” Jungkook confirms with a confident nod, tosses his sandwich wrapper into the trash from an impressive distance, and disappears into what Namjoon can only assume is the dry goods pantry. 

“Good morning, Namjoon.” Father Kim smiles kindly. Namjoon still can’t believe he’s actually a priest. 

“Good morning. Is there anything I can do?”

“Cleaning duty afterwards?”

“Can do.”

“Until then, tell me, how was your first night here? Are you comfortable? Always feel free to speak up if there’s something you need.”

“Clothes, probably?”

“Absolutely,” Father Kim nods, “follow me.”

Father Kim lets him loose in the donation area, he filters through the piles for something that will fit his admittedly long and awkward form. He settles on three pairs of pants, two pairs of shorts, five shirts, a light jacket and a hat. Satisfied with his picks, he slips into the bathroom off of the kitchen and changes into one of the pairs of shirts and one of the t-shirts, and feels a little refreshed from it. 

When he emerges, Yoongi is in the kitchen, working with Jungkook to start firing up grills and mixing batter and counting out bread. Namjoon approaches, feeling a bit guilty for not lending his hands to help. 

“Can I help?” He asks, peering over Yoongi’s shoulder. 

“Personal space, please?” Yoongi glances over his shoulder, shredding potatoes into a large silver bowl. 

“Oh, sorry,” Namjoon steps back, clasps his hands awkwardly in front of him. 

“Put on some gloves and count out some bread, please, that would be really, really helpful.” Yoongi gestures to one of the loaves of bread over by Jungkook, who is busy pouring measures of flour and milk into an industrial sized stand mixer. 

“Gloves.” Jungkook reaches out with his leg and taps one of the cabinets with his toe, Namjoon gloves up and gets to work. 

“Two toasts per person, on Friday we average thirty people, give me sixty breads.” Yoongi moves his work to the griddle, Namjoon’s stomach growls as the first potatoes hit the hot surface. 

He makes short work of the counting and portioning, it’s not rocket science, but he feels fulfilled in helping. 

Yoongi tasks him with drink cart prep, putting out plates and plasticware, and setting up the tables in the all-purpose room and before he knows it, volunteers are filtering in and Father Kim is opening the doors for services. 

It’s then that he steps out of the way, watches Yoongi jump into action running the show, Jungkook looking to him and following his lead. He watches Father Kim smile a kind good morning to every single person stepping into the building. When it seems that everyone who is coming has come, Namjoon steps to the back of the line, Father Kim at his side. 

“This is really remarkable.” Namjoon smiles at him. 

“Well, thank you, but I think it shouldn’t be.” Father Kim smiles back. 

“Oh?” Namjoon cocks his head to the side. 

“I just think that it shouldn’t be such a rarity to take care of each other that it’s seen as remarkable,” Father Kim looks a little somber, “it’s just what’s right to do. Take care of the people. Show them warmth where you can. A lot of the people who come here, can only eat here. They rely on us. Of course we’ll tend to them, always. It’s sad that that’s outstanding and not commonplace.”

Namjoon is struck in the heart. 

“Namjoon! Father Kim! Good morning!” Hoseok’s chipper voice rings out as he strides toward them, a smile on his face and a coffee in his hand. He’s still dressed in his pajamas, his hair is a little wild, his face is still vaguely sleep-swollen but he’s bright nonetheless. 

Namjoon is struck in the heart, again. 

“Good morning, Hoseok,”  Father Kim smiles, steps back and lets him step into line, “are you off today?”

“Mmm, no,” Hoseok takes a sip from his coffee, Namjoon steps back and lets him into line in front of him, “Friday. Late shift. Friday night is pizza night all across this city.”

“Friday night is pizza night at the church.” Jungkook steps into line behind Hoseok, apron covered in batter. 

“Friday night is friends and pizza in my apartment, yes.” Hoseok nods to him. 

“Am I invited?” Namjoon ventures cautiously. 

“Of course! I’m not going to invite your roommate and not invite you. That would not be nice,” Hoseok looks a little put off that Namjoon would even question it, “and I certainly wouldn’t invite you to live here and then invite your roommate to dinner and not invite you.”

Namjoon doesn’t care what the circumstances are, he’s just pleased to be talking to people, which surprises him. He’s even more pleased to be talking to Hoseok, which is frustrating because this probably isn’t the situation in which he should be feeling fluttery over someone, and yet, here he is. 

“Father Kim even comes sometimes, if he’s not in demand. He really plays the system, because Hoseok drops of pizzas to youth counseling and then brings some up to the apartment, so Father Kim gets pizza twice. Which is like. Rude.” Jungkook nudges him with his elbow. 

“Ah, so disrespectful, Jungkookie.” Father Kim shakes his head, smiling regardless.

“Sin of gluttony, Father.” Jungkook puts on a half-hearted serious face. 

“Sin of otherwise wasting perfectly good pizza, or something.” Hoseok chimes in, grabs a plate. Namjoon leans forward to grab one as well, his chest presses against Hoseok’s back and he hopes Hoseok doesn’t feel the sudden pound pound pound of his heart. 

They slide down the line, their plates are filled, and Hoseok leads Namjoon to a table with two empty seats at the end. Jungkook takes his plate- which Yoongi piled extra high as he and Jungkook shared some sort of staring contest- to go, and Father Kim takes his toast to his office, leaving Namjoon and Hoseok all to themselves. 

“So was that weird between Yoongi and Jungkook, or do they normally just stare at each other?” Namjoon asks, stabbing scooping hash browns onto his fork. 

“No, it’s not unusual,” Hoseok stabs his straw into his juice box- his juice box , how unbelievably adorable- and pulls his mouth into a tight line as he seems to do when he’s thinking, “Jungkookie is...hmm. I don’t know if I should say.”

“Well, now you have to.” Namjoon pouts. 

Hoseok stares at his food for a second, scoops up a bite of pancake and shrugs. 

“It’s not like it’s a secret. I mean, he’s not loud about it but he does talk from time to time, I guess I can catch you up to speed.” He sips his juice box. 

“I’d like that. I like your friends, I don’t want to say something and look like an idiot later.” 

Hoseok smiles, waves his hand as if to shoo away Namjoon’s concern. 

“Nah, I’m sure no one will think you look like an idiot. You’re new to us, we’re new to you, you’re not going to know things and there are going to be things that people don’t talk about or won’t think to tell you.”

“That’s fair, but I’d like to do my best to not put my foot in my mouth.” Namjoon laughs, bites into his toast. 

“Well, you see,” Hoseok spreads jam on his toast, takes a quick look around and lowers his voice, “what you and Father Kim were talking about when I came in today, about how some people here can’t have meals anywhere but here, Jungkookie is one of those people. And he’s not ashamed of that, not anymore. He started coming to this church with his mom for a while, long before I was here, when he was a kid, when Father Kim was just taking over and Yoongi had just started here. They came to lots of events and they were kind and active and always helped where the could, but over time, even though they were still coming to services and doing all the things they did before, something was different but Father Kim couldn’t really place it. And then they stopped coming. And one night late late late, Jungkook came pounding on the door of the Priest’s quarters, because Father Kim lives here, you know.”

Hoseok pauses to sip his juice. 

“By his office, right?” Namjoon asks, nibbles on toast some more. 

“Yeah, over there. So Jungkook comes running for help, blocks and blocks and blocks from his home at 3AM, and he’s in a panic, and Father Kim can’t get him to calm down and talk straight because he’s panicking and can’t breathe from the running, but he can get him to come inside and drink water and cool off. So it’s then, after Jungkook is inside and Father Kim is more awake that he notices that Jungkook’s lip is busted and he’s got blood on his clothes and he’s barefoot and he’s so small for his age. Father Kim had always assumed he was just a small kid, but once he got a real good look at him in his pajamas rather than in his church dress clothes, all normalcy dropped, he realized that no, he wasn’t just a small kid, this was not normal for him.” Hoseok sits back, studies the plate of food in front of him. He looks so sad. Namjoon hates it, but he wants to hear him tell Jungkook’s story, no matter how horrible it’s been so far. 

“That bulk of a boy was small?” 

“Scary small, apparently,” Hoseok nods, fiddles with his fork, “so he finally gets Jungkook calmed down and talking. And Jungkook tells him that his dad punched him for talking back, and his mom got in between them, and so he hit her, and he kept hitting her, and Jungkook called the cops, and his dad threw the coffee maker at him, and kept kicking his mom, and the cops came, and took Jungkook’s statement, and took his dad away, and his mom went to the hospital in an ambulance, and the cops left him there alone in all the mess, and he didn’t know what to do, so he came to the church.”

“Oh my god.” Namjoon’s chest is tight, he’s angry. So, so angry. 

Hoseok sniffles, pushes his food aside. 

“So Father Kim sprung into action. He fed Jungkook,  put him in an apartment immediately, let him sleep it off. He slept for two entire days, according to Yoongi, and while he did, Yoongi and Jimin went and cleaned up the apartment for him. When Jungkook finally woke up, and ate enough for a small army, he finally told the whole story. His father wouldn’t let his mom work, he threatened her with literal death if she left the house without his knowledge. Eventually he started withholding food as control over them. Then he forbid them from coming here. They weren’t allowed to leave at all, Jungkook had to beg to be able to go to school, which he was allowed to do so infrequently that he almost failed because of it. He didn’t want to tell anyone, he was scared of his father and ashamed of the situation. But with his father in jail, he had a little less to worry about. When his mother was released from the hospital, Father Kim helped her find employment, and file for assistance, and continued to feed them. A year or so later, Jungkook decided he wanted to join the priesthood because of all of this. Naturally Father Kim took him under his wing. So Yoongi is generous to Jungkook with the servings because he knows Jungkook will take it home for both his mom and himself, and Jungkook wants to thank Yoongi, but Yoongi doesn’t like to be thanked for those things, so they stare at each other instead. That’s what that look was all about.”

“Holy shit.” Namjoon exhales. He doesn’t think there’s anything more eloquent that could express his feelings. 

“Yeah.” Hoseok agrees with a nod. 

“I won’t say anything. But thank you for telling me.”

“I don’t think he’d care, really, but it’s not a fun thing to think about,” Hoseok shrugs, picks up his plate, “we should clear out, it’s almost over.”

Namjoon glances around the room, he hadn’t noticed that it was just Hoseok, himself, and few other people left. 

Hoseok leaves to shower and dress for work, Namjoon starts the clean up duty that Father Kim had requested from him earlier. He helps Yoongi wipe down the kitchen, sneaks peeks out of the corner of his eye at him. He had a newfound admiration for him. 

He heads back to his own apartment, promising to be back to help with lunch services, and flops back onto his bed. Curious, he knocks on the wall above his head. 

“Hoseok?” He calls. There’s a knock in return. 

“Namjoon!”

“Have a good day.”

“You too! See you for pizza tonight? I’d really love for you to be there.”

There’s that damn flutter again. 

“I’ll be there.”

Chapter Text

Namjoon hovers nervously outside of Hoseok’s door. 

Hoseok’s window is open and he can hear the laughter coming from inside, but he can’t bring himself to knock. 

He recognizes the voices in there; he knows Hoseok’s voice by now, but he also recognizes the near-monotone timbre of Yoongi’s voice, the remains of a mid-Atlantic accent that Jimin has, the slightly-pouty tone in Jungkook’s speech pattern. He’s met these people, he’s been teased by these people already, why is he nervous? 

“Hey,” Jimin pops his head out of the window, Namjoon nearly jumps out of his skin, “are you gonna come in, or…”

“Oh! Oh, sorry, I just— yeah. I’m coming in.”

“Silly.” Jimin grins and disappears through the open window again as the front door swings open. 

“Namjoon, come in, come in,” Hoseok steps aside, gestures for him to enter, “you don’t need to wait around outside like a guest!”

“Sorry, this is just still kinda weird.” Namjoon laughs as he steps into the apartment. The room layout is identical to his, unsurprisingly, but it’s decorated far differently. Taehyung’s style is artsy, shabby-chic, lived in, various trinkets from various travels. Hoseok’s is bright, eclectic, sort of frenzied in a comforting way. Exactly what Namjoon would have expected. 

“Sit, sit. Do you want a drink?” Hoseok grabs him by the elbow, leads him to the couch. 

“Um, water?”

“Hydration is important,” Hoseok nods, “I’ll get you you glass.”

Namjoon takes a seat next to Jungkook, who’s busy working on what looks like a worksheet. 

“Summer schoolwork,” he explains, tilting his notebook towards Namjoon, “it’s simple, but I don’t wanna. When’s the pizza gonna be here, Hobi?”

“Ah, it’s coming, calm down,” Hoseok hands Namjoon his water, takes a seat beside him, “I’m sorry I couldn’t bring more than the youth group’s. Taehyung will be here with it pretty soon.”

“Taehyung needs to hurry, my stomach is screaming.”

Jungkook pouts, closes his book, and sets it aside. 

“So, Namjoon,” Jimin asks from his seat on the floor by Yoongi’s feet, “how are you doing? Are you liking living here?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” Namjoon nods, “it’s nice to have, you know, shelter. And I enjoyed helping Yoongi with breakfast and lunch and dinner today.”

“He’s surprisingly capable.” Yoongi nods. 

“Surprisingly?” Hoseok cocks his head, eyebrows furrowed, and Namjoon has to resist the urge to sigh wistfully. 

“Expect the worst and end up pleasantly surprised.” Yoongi shrugs. 

“You’re the worst.” Jimin teases him. 

“You are.” Yoongi smirks back. 

“And I’m really liking living with Taehyung, at least so far. We haven’t spent a ton of time together, but I think we’ll get along just fine.” 

“Taehyung is a great friend and roommate. Anyone who doesn’t like Taehyung is wrong.” Jimin nods resolutely. 

“Jimin and I were roommates with Taehyung for a while,” Yoongi elaborated, “you’d think three people in that little space would be difficult but we managed.” 

“It’s because we don’t know what personal space is so we were never bothered.” Jimin adds. 

“And you two are so small so there’s that.” Jungkook teases, Jimin hits him with a pillow. 

“You guys are all so close,” Namjoon repeats what he had told Jungkook the day before, “it’s kind of intimidating.”

“That is not the first time we’ve heard that,” Jimin laughs, “but it’s really just because no one else would want to be friends with us.”

“I don’t want them to be.” Yoongi adds. 

“Hoseok is very popular everywhere he goes,” Jungkook chimes in, “everyone loves Hoseok.”

“How could you not?” Namjoon asks, then realizes he sounded maybe a little too eager, a little too wistful. Yoongi gives him the same smirk he gave the day before, and Namjoon knows that he knows. 

“Hello, hello,” Taehyung pokes his head through the window, “I’m here and Seokjinnie is here and we have pizza!”

“Oh thank god.” Jungkook propels himself off of the couch and towards the door, flinging it open and letting the others in. 

“Hot hot hot hot pizza. Okay,” Father Kim maneuvers his way through the door to the kitchen, plopping the stack of boxes onto the counter, “pizza roll call, go!”

“Go!” Jungkook echoes. 

“Personal hand tossed with all the veggies!” Jin calls. 

“Here!” Yoongi calls, the box gets passed from one hand to the next to get to him.  

“Thin crust, medium, extra cheese, banana pepper!” 

“Here!” Hoseok and Jungkook call in unison. 

“Two cheeseless slices, that could be only one person!”

“Thank you!” Jimin calls back. 

“Taehyung, small half supreme, half Hawaiian!”

“Thank you thank you!” Taehyung reaches over everyone and grabs his box. 

“Personal pepperoni with extra cheese!”

“Oh, that’s you! It’s what you chose the first time we had lunch, so I just assumed.” Hoseok says around a mouthful of pizza. Namjoon is a level of touched and endeared that is probably entirely unnecessary. 

“Oh, wow, thank you.” He reaches to grab the box from Taehyung’s hands. 

“And deep dish four cheese for me.” Father Kim finally joins them in the living room, Hoseok scoots closer to Namjoon to make room and Namjoon’s heart flutters and he’s so embarrassing he could dissolve. 

They make small talk in between bites. Taehyung tells them about his day and the project he’s working on, Jimin goes over his plan for Sunday school and Father Kim makes suggestions. Yoongi goes over the next week’s worth of menus and Jungkook takes notes. Namjoon really feels like he’s settling in with these people, he’s not contributed very much to the conversation but he’s learning, observing, taking it all in. 

“I’m fucking beat,” Taehyung groans, rising from his seat after about three hours worth of the six of them telling Namjoon funny stories and explaining inside jokes, “I’m going home. See you in the morning, Namjoon?”

Namjoon salutes him, he salutes back, and makes his way out the door. 

“It is pretty late,” Father Kim glances at the clock on the wall, “I still have invoicing to do.”

“Do you need help?” Yoongi offers, even though he’s slouched back with his eyes closed, head resting on the back of the armchair he’s sinking into. 

“Oh, that would be amazing.” Father Kim sighs. 

“Give me twenty. I’m gonna help clean up.” Yoongi hoists himself from the chair. 

“I’ll help, too.” Jimin rises from the floor, collecting cups. 

“It’s my place, I’ll do it too.” Hoseok joins him. 

“I’ll go with Father Kim.” Jungkook hands the empty box he’s been fiddling with over to Jimin and the two take their leave. 

“Um...where am I needed?” Namjoon asks awkwardly. They seem to have a system. 

“Help me with all this?” Jimin asks, gesturing to the paper plates, napkins, and empty pizza boxes. 

“Indeed.”

It’s a small task, but if anything, the more Namjoon does with these people, the more he can get to know their ins and outs and he wants to seize every opportunity. He holds a trash bag open as Jimin scoops trash into it, doing his best to make it all fit and impressively succeeding. Yoongi rips up boxes beside him, Hoseok washes cups. 

“I’m glad you like it here, Namjoon. I’m glad you came.” Hoseok calls and Namjoon feels himself blush. 

“I’m glad, too. I have to admit I was apprehensive at first, but I’m really happy to be here,” Namjoon smiles to try to fight the flush creeping up on him, “I really like sleeping on a bed, and being your neighbor. I really like meeting you guys. And like I said, although we haven’t really hung out, I like Taehyung as a roommate. He’s sweet. He’s considerate. He seems like someone I’ll get along with.”

Jimin stops cramming trash into the bag in his hand, looks to Yoongi. Yoongi looks back at him, they share an identical expression, and Namjoon can tell that they’re communicating, but he can’t figure out what they’re saying. 

“Hobi?” Jimin calls, looking towards the kitchen, Hoseok leans over to peek at him through the doorway. 

“Go ahead,” Hoseok nods, “I’m sure that it’ll be appreciated.”

“Um, you couldn’t have known this, really, so don’t think I’m criticizing you, but Taehyung is They or Them. He or Him is acceptable from time to time, in unfamiliar or maybe unsafe settings, but They or Them is correct, and it’s important to respect that, whether Taeyhung is here or not.” JImin explains. It hits Namjoon like a wall how no one had ever used pronouns for Taehyung when speaking to him, and he wants the floor to swallow him whole.

“Oh, my god, I’m sorry, I had no idea,” Namjoon sputters, “thank you for telling me.” 

“You couldn’t have known, but it’s important that you do. Just correct it now,” Yoongi ties off the trash bag, hands it over to Namjoon, “and don’t be weird about it. Jimin, let’s go?” 

“Hobi, we’re going!” Jimin calls. Hoseok scurries from the kitchen to exchange cheek kisses with Jimin and hugs with Yoongi before they excuse themselves for the night.

“I am so tired.” Hoseok yawns, flopping onto his couch. He does look tired, but he looks happy, and comfortable.

“I can go home, let you get some rest.” 

“No, hang out for a little while longer.” Hoseok pouts, reaching out and grabbing his wrist, firm but gentle. He tugs on his arm and Namjoon couldn’t say no if his life depended on it.

“Yeah, okay. I think I’d like that.” Namjoon nods and sits back down on the couch, Hoseok beams at him and sits sideways, pretzel-style, to face him. 

“So, tell me more about you.” Hoseok rests his elbow on his thigh, his chin in his hand, and his eyes are so bright and curious. Namjoon really can’t deny anymore that he’s falling for him, hard. 

“I think I did that already,” Namjoon smiles, rubs at the back of his neck, “I think it’s your turn.”

“Oh? Me?” Hoseok’s eyes go wide, he points to himself.

Why is everything he does so fucking cute for God’s sake?

“Yeah. Tell me more about you. All I know is you work in a pizza shop where you make incredible pizza, you live here, and you’re from the middle of nowhere.” 

“Okay, um,” Hoseok purses his lips, squints at the ceiling, “I have an older sister, her name is Dawon. She left home a year before I did, and I miss her a lot. We’re really close. Uh...I went to school for dance for a little while, but I had to drop out because it was too expensive.”

“I’m sorry, Hoseok, that sucks.” Namjoon pouts. 

“It’s okay. It’s like you told me the day we met, that’s life, right?” 

“Do you still like to dance?” 

“I dance with Jungkook sometimes, and Jimin, too, but not as often as we used to. We’re all really busy now. Let’s see...I have a cool scar on my lower calf,” Hoseok pulls the ankle of his joggers up, “right here. I got it playing in a creek when I was a kid. It looks like a happy face, it’s kinda cute.”

“It is kinda cute.” Namjoon laughs in agreement. 

“I met Father Kim at the hospital, that’s how I wound up here.” 

“Why were you in the hospital?”

“Extended treatment, I had pneumonia, because I had been living outside like you were. I got a cold, I think, and then bronchitis, probably, and it turned to pneumonia, and I almost died.” 

“So that’s why you mentioned living outside in the winter.” Namjoon nods. 

“Yeah, exactly.”

“You’re really sweet, you know that, Hobi?”

Namjoon is positive he sees Hoseok blush this time. 

“I just like to look after people.” He shrugs, examining his fingernails. 

“Don’t sell yourself short, Hoseok,” Namjoon reaches out, touches him gently on his still-exposed calf, “you’re really a special person.”

“No, no,” Hoseok shakes his head, smiling, “I just did for you what someone once did for me.”

Namjoon pulls his hand back, Hoseok pulls his pant leg back down. 

“Well, I appreciate it, more than you know, and I’m glad you came into my life.” Namjoon smiles. 

“I’m glad, too.” Hoseok smiles back, small and sweet and sincere. 

Namjoon almost, almost goes in for a kiss, but stops himself. Boundaries. Respect. Those are important. 

Also he’s a big scaredy baby and can’t muster up the courage. 

“Do you want to watch a movie? I’m years behind on movies.” Namjoon observes Hoseok’s collection. 

“Yeah,” Hoseok lifts himself from the couch, “how about Tangled?”

“Tangled?”

“Oh my god, then yes, Tangled.”

Hoseok pops it in and shuts off the lights. 

He wakes up sometime later, the DVD menu on repeat, Hoseok curled up asleep on the opposite end of the couch. Namjoon rubs the sleep from his eyes, glances at the clock on the wall, he can barely make out the time in the dark, but he thinks it might say 3. 

He gently shakes Hoseok, just enough to bring him into a slight consciousness. 

“Hey,” he crouches down next to him, “we fell asleep. Do you want to go to bed? Are you good here.”

“Here.” Hoseok whispers, voice thick and sleepy. Namjoon pulls a throw blanket from the nearest chair and drapes it over him. 

“Good night, Hoseok.” Namjoon whispers.

“See you tomorrow?”

“Yes, definitely.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” 

Namjoon creeps his way back into his apartment, shutting and locking the door as quietly as possible. 

He slips into his bed, heart pounding. He was doomed. Smitten. Charmed. Enchanted. 

What had he gotten himself into?

Chapter Text

Days turn to weeks and before Namjoon knows it, he’s been under a roof for a month. He’s become familiar with these people. Familiar enough to call them friends, even.

When he left his childhood home years ago with nowhere to go, he didn’t think he’d become close to another human ever again, or even want to be close to anyone ever again. But now here he is, among six other people he had grown fond of surprisingly fast, sharing a birthday party with Jungkook.

Jimin and Hoseok had thrown an entire fit when they found out that Namjoon didn’t plan on celebrating his birthday. He hadn’t had cause or means to celebrate in years, it sort of just became another day, and when you don’t have anything to mark the days, it’s hard to track or care what’s happening. But Jimin and Hoseok had insisted, and Jungkook had said that it was even more exciting to celebrate when he had someone to share the day with, and so Namjoon couldn’t say no.

And that’s how he wound up sitting beside Jungkook, sharing the head of one of the collapsible tables as their five other friends-along with Jungkook’s mother- sang happy birthday to them and looked at them expectantly as they blew out their candles on their personal-sized cakes, handcrafted lovingly by Yoongi and Jimin in secret the day before. That’s how he wound up where he is now, laying in the grass beside Father Kim’s quiet space, full of cake and soda and pizza, staring at the stars as Jimin sits beside him, sipping on a box of wine.

“How long have you been with Yoongi?” Namjoon asks, realizing that he didn’t know the two of them as well as he would like to.

“Oof, um,” Jimin counts on his fingers, then gives up, “for as long as I can remember? We’ve been friends since childhood.”

“Right, but when did you couple up?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. We just kind of...did.”

“You just kind of got married?” Namjoon props himself up on his elbows, raises his eyebrow.

“Oh, we’re not actually married, we just might as well be. The rings are just symbolic. And they keep me from getting hit on, sometimes. Yoongi says marriage is just a piece of paper and no one can tell us we’re not husbands if we believe that we are, and we don’t need a ceremony to prove it,” Jimin smiles fondly at the ring on his finger, “he’s right but I still want a wedding one day.”

“I want that for you guys.” Namjoon nods.

They fall quiet again for a moment, Jimin smirks over at Namjoon and takes a sip of his wine.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you into Hobi?”

Namjoon feels heat spread through his body, chased by a chill, and he breaks out in a cold sweat.

“I’m, um. It’s...well.” His words are jumbled and he trips over them.

“You are! You are, I knew it.” Jimin looks smug and Namjoon kind of hates him for it, but he can’t argue with him because he’s right. He’s really, really right.

“Okay, fine, I am. I’m really into him.” Namjoon lets himself fall back onto the grass, a little harder than he meant to, but the sound emphasizes his point- he’s fallen hard for Hoseok in the past month and he has no idea what to do about it.

“Hmm, makes sense,” Jimin hums beside him, “but I’ll warn you about one thing.”

“Oh?” Namjoon lifts his head to make eye contact, Jimin locks eyes with him, blank-faced and serious.

“Break his heart and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Oh, wow, I—“

“Are we clear, Namjoon?”

“I, um...yes. Yes, very.”

“Okay, then.” The smile returns to Jimin’s face and he sips from his wine box again.

“I don’t know if he’s into me, though.” Namjoon breaks the silence after a moment.

“Isn’t there only one way to find out?”

“That sounds awkward. And horrible. And I don’t do awkward and horrible if I can help it.”

“From what I’ve seen, that’s all you do.” Yoongi’s voice comes from somewhere off to the side, Namjoon attempts to make an offended noise, but it comes out as a cough and Jimin snorts a laugh at him.

“Namjoon is into Hobi.” Jimin informs Yoongi, Yoongi hums in response.

“I know. I knew that on day one.” Yoongi chuckles smugly.

“You didn’t know me on day one, Yoongi. I didn’t show up here until day four.” Namjoon pushes himself upright again and tries to look indignant, but from the twin looks on Yoongi and Jimin’s faces, he knows it didn’t come across that way.

“What’s wrong with your face? Are you constipated? Why do you have that face on your face?” Taehyung laughs at him, Namjoon wasn’t even aware that Taehyung was there as well until now.

“Joon likes Hobi.” Yoongi relays the message.

“Ah, got it,” Taehyung nods, accepting the box of wine from Jimin and taking a sip before screwing up their face and shaking their head in objection, handing the box back as Jimin laughs at them, “I get it. Hobi is likable. Like, way likable.”

“So everyone knows?” Namjoon groans, scrubbing at his face with his hands.

“I did, but I’m pretty perceptive.” Yoongi shrugs.

“More like watch-y and judge-y.” Jimin teases, grabbing Yoongi’s hand.

“I did not, and I don’t think Hobi does, because I think he would have told me.” Taehyung joins Namjoon and Jimin on the ground.

“I feel kind of bad talking about him, like we’re gossiping about him.” Jimin pouts.

“What, and you don’t like gossip? You and Father Kim don’t live for the drama?” Yoongi teases, Jimin smacks his leg.

“That’s different,” Jimin whines, “that’s not our drama. This is our friend we’re talking about.”

“I don’t think it’s gossiping. Gossiping would be if I said, I don’t know, he was stinky or was screwing the milkman or something. This is strategizing.” Taehyung nods.

“The milkman?” Yoongi laughs.

“Strategizing? What strategy?” Namjoon doesn’t follow.

“How to get you and Hobi together.” Taehyung explains, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Namjoon raises his hands in defense, “I don’t know about together, guys.”

“Friends. Not guys.” Jimin corrects.

“Sorry, friends. I don’t know about that. I have a crush, that’s all. I don’t know if this is the best setting to start a relationship.”

“So you’ve thought about a relationship.” Jimin smirks.

“What? No.” Namjoon objects, but it’s clear no one is buying it.

“Namjoon. Come on.” Taehyung’s face is flat and skeptical.

“Ugh, fine, I have thought about it. But here’s the thing,” Namjoon sighs, “I’ve never been in a relationship, and I don’t know that the current situation is the best one to try to start one.”

“Why not? What's stopping you?” Yoongi shrugs.

“I don’t exactly have anything to offer, you know?” Namjoon looks down at his hands, observes his nails, his fingers, anything but his friends. He hasn’t been vulnerable with them yet, and hasn't really been open. He supposes now is as good a time as any.

“You have a roof over your head, and time to invest.” Jimin points out.

“But I only have that because of him. I don’t even have a job.”

“I don’t either, and I only have this place because of Jin. It’s not always about the stuff you have to offer,” Taehyung jabs Namjoon in the thigh with their index finger for emphasis, “but the things. Time, and effort, and respect. Besides, you help Jin and Kook and Yoongi out all the time, that’s like, a full time job.”

“You’re so smart, Tae, honestly. That’s all so true.” Jimin coos at them.

“Stop, I’ll cry, I love you,” Taehyung shoves Jimin’s shoulder, “but I think you should go for it, Namjoon. Really.”

“Agreed.” Yoongi nods.

Namjoon looks up at them, finally, and they look open, and sincere, and he believes he can trust them and their word on this.

“Okay, okay. You all meddle too much but you’re right. You’re all right. Just,” Namjoon sighs deeply, “don’t say anything to him? And let me do this on my time?”

The three of them agree, swearing on it, and they part ways for the night.

A couple of hours later, Namjoon is laying in bed, and it’s quiet, and he swallows his pride and knocks on the wall above him.

“Hobi?

“Namjoon?”

“Do you work tomorrow night?”

“I don’t. Are you helping out tomorrow evening?”

“No, tomorrow morning. Wanna hang out?”

“I have a thing at dinner hour but yes, I want to. I always want to.”

Warmth spreads through Namjoon’s chest and he grins.

“See you in the morning?”

“In the morning.”

“Goodnight, Hobi.”

“Goodnight, Namjoon.”
*
Morning comes, and Namjoon is anxious and excited and hesitant and determined all at once. It’s Thursday and he’s meant to be helping Yoongi prep breakfast but it’s all that he can do to focus on the tasks at hand.

“If you're gonna be a mess, go do something that doesn’t make a mess.” Yoongi huffs as he cleans up Namjoon’s third spill in the last hour.

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon ducks his head, busies himself with setting out stacks of plates and plasticware and napkins, “I’m just. You know. A mess.”

“Thoroughly noted. Look, Namjoon,” Yoongi sighs, tossing his rag aside and crossing the kitchen to make eye contact, “you don’t have anything to be nervous about. You’re fine. You’re more than fine. You’re kinda cool, even, so stop sweating it and just tell Hoseok how grossly into him you are and get on with it.”

“Yoongi, I-“

“Nope, nope, nope,” Yoongi holds his hands up, “that’s all you’re getting out of me. Just...stop overthinking it. Okay?”

“Okay. Yeah, okay.” Namjoon nods. Yoongi nods back, gives him a small, awkward smile, and gets back to work.

Yoongi might have had an odd way of reassuring him, but it worked. He felt his chest clear, his shoulders straighten, and even though the butterflies hadn’t left his stomach, he was more excited than he was nervous. It was going to be okay, because he is cool.

Cool until Hoseok actually shows up an hour or so later, Taehyung hanging off of him, still half-asleep.

“Good morning Namjoon!” Hoseok chirps, Taehyung grumbles and nuzzles their head further into Hoseok’s neck.

“The lights. Bright.” Taehyung pouts, voice muffled in Hoseok’s skin.

“Good morning, friends,” Namjoon laughs, “Taehyung, do you want coffee?”

“Actually? Yes.” Taehyung lifts their head just enough to squint at Namjoon, eyebrows pinched, face puffy.

“Me too, please? I’m exhausted.” Hobi pouts. Namjoon’s heart pounds.

“Absolutely. I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere. Well, okay, get your food but like, don’t leave. I’ll be right back.” Namjoon sputters, Hoseok raises his eyebrows and smiles at him.

“A mile a minute this morning?” Taehyung croaks.

“Yeah, I guess,” Namjoon laughs, mentally curbstomping himself, “I’ll be right back.”

He scurries as quickly as he can to Father Kim’s office, knocks lightly on the door, and waits to be welcomed.

“Ah, Namjoon, good morning!” Father Kim greets him, glasses perched on his nose, his hair still in a wavy nest as if he’d just rolled out of bed.

“Morning.” Jungkook greets him around a mouthful of toast, jelly at the corner of his lips. Sometimes Namjoon looks at him and remembers the story Hoseok told him, and he’s punched in the gut. He can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt such a sweet kid, and he gets angry. He wants to protect his new friends from everything and regrets that he wasn’t there to do so in the past.

“Good morning,” Namjoon echoes, points to the coffee pot in the corner, “can I steal some of the good stuff?”

“Who’s asking for it? Not just anyone gets it.” Father Kim takes his glasses off and Namjoon’s stomach drops. He doesn’t buy into the whole ‘authority figures are hot’ thing, and he tries not to be in the habit of ogling (presumably) straight guys, but Father Kim had a way of being endearingly cute and astonishingly kind but also undeniably hot. Not his type, really, but he gets why all the girls in youth group giggle and try to impress him.

“Sin of greed.” Jungkook scolds Father Kim, crumbs on his face and the jelly still clinging to his lips.

“Sin of gluttony,” Father Kim smirks, hands Jungkook a napkin, “who wants the coffee?”

“Hoseok and Taehyung.”

“Ah, well, then, if Taehyungie is asking for coffee, it’s dire,” Father Kim nods, “help yourself.”

Namjoon does his best to maneuver with two full cups of coffee, walking slowly and carefully so as not to spill. Jungkook jumps up from his seat, opens the door for him with a grin.

“Thanks, man.” Namjoon smiles at him, still focused on his task, he nearly misses the smirk on Jungkook’s face.

“No problem,” Jungkook nods, “and good luck.”

“Even you-“

“Bye!”

Jungkook closes the door behind Namjoon, Namjoon takes a deep breath and goes in search of his friends.

He finds them in the all-purpose room, halfway done with breakfast already, and sets the coffee down beside them, standing awkwardly at the head of the table because all the chairs are taken.

“You’re making me nervous over there.” Yoongi eyes him from the other side of Hoseok.

“Everything makes you nervous.” Taehyung teases.

“Rude, but not wrong,” Yoongi stands, takes his plate with him, “Namjoon, have my seat. I’m done.”

“Oh, no, no, I’m—“

“Take it. You know you want to.” Yoongi smirks. Namjoon feels himself blush and takes the seat.

“So,” Taehyung leans forward, more alert now than before, “I have a student gallery showing next week. Wanna come?”

“Oh my god yes! Taehyung, that’s amazing,” Hoseok beams, turning to Namjoon, “we’ll be there, right, Namjoon?”

Namjoon’s stomach flips at Hoseok calling them “we”. Which he knows is ridiculous, of course the two of them would be “we”, but it still hits him hard.

“Yeah, one hundred percent.” Namjoon nods, trying to swallow the butterflies rising from his stomach and into his throat. Taehyung grins, wide and bright, and Namjoon is hit with affection and a wave of protectiveness all over again.

“Oh no,” Hoseok gasps, looks at the clock and pushes his plate towards Namjoon, “I have to go! Namjoon, have this, have a good day!”

Hoseok jumps from his seat and rushes out of the door, and Namjoon misses him immediately.

“You’re doomed.” Taehyung nods at him, his mouth pulled into a tight line. Namjoon scrubs at his face, sighing heavily.

“Oh god, I really am.”

He tries his best to pass the day and not think too much about what he’s doing to say or how he’s going to dress- not that he has many options- but he’s silently panicking and can’t help himself.

So that’s why he’s standing in front of Taehyung, Yoongi and Jimin in a mix of his own clothes and clothes borrowed from Taehyung, asking for input.

“You look like you’re going to a Saturday morning farmer’s market,” Jimin assesses, “it’s a hot look, I like it.”

“It is pretty hot.” Taehyung agrees.

“It doesn’t look like I’m trying too hard to be cool?” Namjoon bites his lip.

“Only because you obviously are.” Yoongi grimaces.

“Relax, Namjoon, relax. You look good, you look hot, it suits you. And Hobi has seen you in clothes that you had worn for how long? Why are you worried?” Jimin laughs at him.

“Rude, Jimin, I was homeless.” Namjoon deadpans.

“Ugh, that’s not how I meant it,” Jimin rolls his eyes, “I’m just saying, don’t treat it like it’s different tonight.”

“Because it isn’t. You’re just hanging out.” Taehyung agrees.

“If you get all sweaty and weird about it, then you need to worry, but just be cool. Be yourself. It’s trite but it’s true.” Yoongi assures him.

“Okay,” Namjoon breathes, “okay.”

“Okay.” Yoongi echoes.

“Alright, get out of here and let me breathe. And thank you.” Namjoon sighs.

“I literally live here.” Taehyung reminds him.

“Shit, yeah, sorry,” Namjoon laughs, “I’m just. You know.”

“A mess. Again.” Yoongi nods.

“Yeah, that.”

“We’ll let you be messy in peace.” Jimin pulls him into a hug, then grabs Yoongi’s hand and pulls him toward the door.

“Good luck!” Yoongi calls as the door closes behind them.

“You’re fine.” Taehyung repeats.

“Totally fine.” Namjoon agrees.

“I’m going to bed. Friday class,” Taehyung sighs, “but have fun, and tell me all about it tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah. Sleep well.”

“I’m gonna try!” Taehyung disappears behind his door.

Namjoon smooths his hair down for the last time before making his way to his room and knocking on the wall.

“Hobi?”

Silence. It makes him nervous.

“Hobi, are you home?”

“Oh, Namjoon! I was just napping. Are you ready?”

“Yeah, meet you out front?”

“Be right there. Later!”

Really, Namjoon? “Later”? Fuck.

He pops out of his front door and there Hoseok is, in a backwards hat and a white tee shirt and black track pants and fuck, how does he look so good like that?

“Hey.” He smiles and gives a small wave, and Namjoon’s heart double thumps.

“Hey.” Namjoon echoes with a smile.

“What do you want to do?”

“Um. Wanna go back to the rooftop?”

“Yeah! Wanna get donuts first?”

“I never don’t want a donut.”

“Let’s go.” Hoseok grins.

Namjoon lets Hoseok take the lead, he clearly has a place in mind and Namjoon doesn’t want to pull him off course. He follows him to a late-night bakery a few blocks away, it’s already open despite that it’s relatively early in the evening and the sun is only just starting to set. They enter the small bakery, the tinkling of the bell on the door summoning a woman from the back.

“Hoseokie! Welcome!” She grins, spreads her arms wide in the air.

“Rosie! Good evening!” He spreads his arms in return, they share an awkward hug across the counter.

“What’s the order today?” She gestures to the cases in front of her and beside her, Hoseok takes a step back and observes the rows and rows of sweets in front of him.

“Namjoon, what do you like?” Hoseok looks over at him.

“Me? Ah, I don’t know. What’s good?”

“All of it is good, it just depends on what you’re looking for.” Rosie smiles at him from behind the counter.

“Um. Cinnamon?” Namjoon suddenly feels pressure with two sets of big brown eyes looking at him, even if it’s not exactly a high-pressure situation.

“Cinnamon twist,” Rosie grabs a pair of tongs and snaps them, “Hobi? The usual?”

“Never anything but,” He nods with a smile, “lemon cream filled and a bottle of tea. Hmm. Two bottles of tea.”

She bags up their orders, making small talk with Hoseok as she does, about her sister and his job and how Halloween is coming soon and she’s so excited.

“Together?” She asks as she starts punching numbers into her register.

“Yep, together.” Hoseok nods.

“Hobi, I can-“ Namjoon reaches to stop Hoseok from pulling out cash.

“Hush hush, let me do it, my treat.” Hoseok pushes Namjoon’s hand away, handing cash over. Rosie looks between them, a small grin on her lips, and Namjoon wonders if everything is as obvious to everyone as he thinks it is.

“This is for you.” Hoseok leaves a generous tip, Rosie gives him a small curtsey in response. Hoseok bows with a flourish and they’re on their way.

“Do you remember the way to the rooftop?” Hoseok asks once they’re outside again.

“From here? No. Take me?”

“Well I’m not gonna leave you here. Let’s go.”

Namjoon follows Hoseok through unfamiliar alleyways and he wonders how often and for how long Hoseok navigated these passages. He wonders about Hoseok’s life before he met him, what it was like for him on the streets, and if he survived simply by being the friendliest person in the entire city.

Before Namjoon knows it, they’re climbing the old fire escape and that same old rickety ladder, and they’re back on the rooftop. Hoseok scurries across the top, hops up onto the half-wall to sit pretzel-style and pats the spot beside him for Namjoon to join.

“Hobi, is that safe?” Namjoon asks nervously as he approaches, he’s not known for his grace.

“It’s fine, look,” Hoseok points below them, another rooftop maybe 2 feet down, “it’s not a far fall.”

“Fair enough.” Namjoon hops up onto the wall as well, Hoseok unbags their treats and they look off at the horizon, watching the sun sink below the skyline.

“You know,” Hoseok sighs, “it’s messy over there. It’s chaos. But it’s beautiful.”

“Messy isn’t always bad.” Namjoon shrugs, taking a bite of his cinnamon twist.

“Are you saying that because you don’t know how to clean up after yourself?” Hoseok laughs.

“What?! Who said that?!” Namjoon pretends to be offended, but he knows that tidiness is his main weakness.

“Taehyungie.”

“Okay, so they’re right, but to be fair, I haven’t had to in years.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll give you that.” Hoseok laughs.

They finish their treats in comfortable silence, wordlessly exchanging bites and watching the sun make its final drop below the skyline.

The breeze blows gently and Hoseok closes his eyes, letting it ruffle his hair, he makes a contented noise and Namjoon can’t take his eyes off of him.

“We should head back before it gets chilly,” Hoseok breaks the silence, climbs down off of the wall, “I don’t have a jacket and you’re not really dressed for this either. You look good, by the way.”

Namjoon feels like he could fall off the wall at the simple compliment.

“Oh, thanks,” he tries to play it cool, “you do too.”

“This? It’s just sleep clothes.”

“Still looks nice.”

“Thanks.” Hoseok gives a small smile and Namjoon’s heart soars and he wants to be the reason Hoseok smiles forever and ever.

They trade small stories on the way back, Namjoon talking about how funny Jungkook was at lunch service and Hoseok talking about one of his regulars that always tries to slip his boss her number. It’s comfortable and familiar and Namjoon loves it.

They stop in front of Hoseok’s door, and Namjoon feels like it should be awkward, though he’s not sure why, but it isn’t at all.

“This is me.” Hoseok smiles.

“That’s me.” Namjoon points to his door.

“Yeah, I know that.” Hoseok giggles.

They stare at each other for a moment, Hoseok tucks a rogue piece of hair behind his ear- it’s gotten longer since they met, Namjoon notices- and Hoseok smiles at him.

“I had fun,” Namjoon smiles, “Thank you for the-“

He’s cut off by Hoseok’s lips on his. The air is knocked from him and his heart explodes into sparks and he’s delighted.

Hoseok wraps his arms around Namjoon’s neck, Namjoon rests his hands on Hoseok’s hips and they sway in the breeze, attached at the lips. Hoseok tastes like sweet tea and lemon cream and his body is warm and his lips are soft, Namjoon never wants it to end.

Unfortunately, they need air.

“Wow.” Namjoon sighs. Hoseok looks up at him, eyes glittering, cheeks flushed. He presses a kiss onto Namjoon’s cheek before gently pulling out of his grasp, grinning at him.

“Goodnight, Namjoon.” He smiles, then slips into his apartment door.

“Goodnight.” Namjoon calls behind him.

He has to resist the urge to jump and yell and celebrate, so instead, he covers his face and exhales hard into his hands, trying to tamp down the excitement.

When he’s thoroughly calmed, he slips inside and tries his best to kick off his shoes quietly.

“Hey,” Taehyung’s door creaks open, they poke their half-awake face through the crack, “it’s good?”

“Yeah. It’s really good.” Namjoon nods.

“Okay, awesome, great, wonderful. Goodnight!”

Namjoon crawls into bed, his skin is warm and his heart is bursting and he hasn’t been so overjoyed in his whole life.

Hoseok knocks on the wall.

“Sleep well, Namjoon.”

“Sleep well, Hobi.”

Chapter Text

Namjoon wakes with the sound of Taehyung slipping out for their first class and stares at the ceiling, the thrum of joy from the night before still buzzing in his chest. A small smile finds its way across his face, eventually morphing into a cheek-aching grin. He covers his face with his hands, barely suppressing the urge to squeal gleefully. He takes a deep breath and rubs his flushed cheeks, turning his attention to his window. It’s glowing with the low rise of the sun, and he feels warm.

Things were going so well. He was beginning to remember what happiness truly felt like. 

Not acceptance, complacency, acquiescence. 

Happiness. 

He was realizing now, with a roof over his head, food in his stomach, a circle of friends and the potential of a relationship in front of him that he had given in to what he thought was meant to be, he had thrown in the towel and convinced himself that he was okay with it. In reality, he had become numb. But now he was feeling something again, there was hope in his heart. He liked the feeling. He felt that he was living, not just surviving as he had been for years, and it was unfamiliar but warm and welcoming and he thinks he might just jump right into the deep end of it. 

He rolls out of bed and pulls himself together, trying to rope himself in and bring himself back down to earth, he couldn’t function if he stayed so giddy on cloud nine all day. 

As soon as he makes his way into the kitchen, Yoongi and Jungkook turn their full attention to him, frozen in their actions. 

“Good morning.” He greets them, striding to the coffee maker and pouring himself a cup. 

“Good morning? How good? What happened? Tell us everything.” Jungkook scurries over to his side, hops up on the counter, and looks at him expectantly. 

“Jesus, Jungkook,” Yoongi laughs, removing his gloves and leaning back against his work station, “since when are you so into the gossip?”

“Don’t act like you don’t want to know.” Jungkook smirks, Yoongi shrugs. 

“Fine, I guess I’m curious. Namjoon? What happened?” Yoongi approaches, pours his own cup of coffee. 

“I don’t kiss and tell.” Namjoon sips from his mug, hoping he’s playing it as cool as he’s trying to. 

“So you kissed!” Jungkook’s eyes go wide as he grins. 

“Ah, fuck,” Namjoon sputters and Yoongi laughs at him as he chokes on his coffee, “damn it.”

“Such language in God’s house!” Father Kim scolds as he enters, looking a little worse for the wear as he approaches them. 

“This is technically only god’s kitchen,” Yoongi shrugs, straightening his apron and heading back to his work station, “and if you can’t handle the heat or the language then you certainly don’t belong in a kitchen.”

Jungkook hops off of the counter and hustles back to his work as well, busying himself with shredding potatoes as Yoongi preps the grill. 

“Namjoon,” Father Kim calls from the doorway, “can you come with me?”

“Oh, yeah, coming!” Namjoon scurries after him, trying his best to make sure he doesn’t slosh his coffee all over himself, and he can’t decide which one is more a part of his new morning routine- drinking coffee or trying not to spill it on himself. 

“Have a good day, lover boy!” Jungkook calls after him. Namjoon shoots a look at him over his shoulder, Jungkook looks pleased with himself, Yoongi smirks at him and waves good-bye.

“In here, Namjoon.” 

He follows Father Kim’s voice into the multi-purpose room, where the tables and chairs are all still folded, odd for how close to breakfast service it is. 

“Can you help me with these? I’m pressed for time this morning.”

“Of course! Whatever you need.”

Namjoon sets his coffee aside and unfolds the tables as Father Kim slides the chairs up to him, moving uncharacteristically sluggishly and in silence. 

“Father? Are you alright?” 

“Ah, under the weather,” Father Kim sniffles, waves it away, “I’ll be fine.”

“Let me do this. Let me do anything that will help.”

“No no, that’s what Jungkook is for.” Father Kim insists.

“But Yoongi needs him right now.”

“He’s meant to be my right hand man.”

“Let me be your left hand, then.”

“That’s, uh, not what you want to be,” Father Kim laughs, wheezing slightly. He’s flushed and looks exhausted, and Namjoon wants to throw him over his shoulder and lock him in his room to rest, “it-- ah, nevermind the explanation, but I do appreciate the sentiment.”

“Okay, well, what can I do for you that Jungkook can’t do?”

“Actually,” Father Kim purses his lips in thought, “Hoseok said you went to school for counseling.”

“That’s right, bachelor’s in sociology and officially licensed in counselling.” Namjoon nods proudly, unfolding the last of the chairs and sliding it into place. He’s not shy about it, he’s proud of that accomplishment. He intended to keep going for his Master’s, and then Doctorate, but for now, he’s comfortable and proud of the fact that he managed to complete his degree and obtain his license despite not having a roof over his head. 

“Would you be interested in sitting in on some of the groups with me?”

Namjoon is elated. He tries to tamp it down, not be overeager, but he really, really loves the idea. 

“Oh, yes, absolutely!”

“Wonderful, thank you so much, Namjoon. If my voice gives out on me, at least I’ll have you there.” Father Kim smiles gratefully.

“Does Jungkook not help in the sessions?” 

“They’re not so much sessions as they are meetings,” Father Kim explains, gesturing for Namjoon to follow him, “and Jungkookie is a very big help, and full of much more wisdom and insight than you would think. But, at the heart of it, he’s still just a kid, and while he can relate and commiserate and offer advice, he’s not quite qualified to offer guidance.”

“That’s a good point,” Namjoon nods, following Father Kim into his office, “what kind of meeting is it? It’s not group therapy?”

“Hmm, sometimes,” Father Kim sits behind his desk and pulls a folder from a drawer as Namjoon sits in the chair across from him, “sometimes they’re emotional, sometimes they’re playful and conversational, but they’re always productive and beneficial to the group, even if it doesn’t seem so.”

“Productivity can be sneaky sometimes.” Namjoon nods.

“And most importantly,” Father Kim slides the folder and a pen toward him, “they always end in pizza. Sign this, please.”

Namjoon takes the folder in his hands, flipping it open and skimming the first page.

“What is it?”

“It’s a confidentiality report, consent to a background check, and offer of employment.” 

“Employment?” Namjoon feels his eyes go wide.

“Well, I’m not expecting someone with a degree to work for free.” Father Kim laughs, spinning in his chair and approaching his coffee pot.

“Father, I really can’t take money. You’ve already done so much for me, I don’t think I could take money on top of it.”

“Namjoon,” Father Kim sighs, taking his seat again and pulling his glasses from his drawer, pushing his wavy bangs off of his forehead and damn it, there’s him being attractive again, “please understand that you’re in no way obligated to take this position. There are no strings attached to this offer, if you want to turn it down, that’s up to you, I won’t hold it against you and I think it’s noble that you would provide your service for free.”

“But it’s not really free, Father. You feed me, clothe me, you give me a place to live. Isn’t that payment enough?”

“That’s a fair point, and that’s admirable, but I don’t see that as payment. I see that as service, as what’s right to do. What is also right to do, Namjoon,” Father Kim reaches over and flicks the folder in Namjoon’s hands, “is paying you for your expertise.”

“I’m far from an expert, Father.” Namjoon laughs, scanning the paper in front of him again.

“You’re more of an expert than I am. I’ll give you some time to think this over, and decide what you want to do. The offer stands indefinitely, there’s no time limit,” Father Kim leans back and sips his coffee, “in the meantime, please do sign the confidentiality agreement and background check consent. I’d like to have both of those for this evening.”

“That I can do.” Namjoon signs and dates all the appropriate lines, and slides the papers back to Father Kim, who glances over them before looking back to him with soft eyes and a small smile.

“I see a lot of good in you, Namjoon. You’re a kind soul and a good heart.”

“I just try to be a decent person.” Namjoon shrugs, ducking his head.

“And humble, too,” Father Kim laughs, “think it over, okay?”

“Okay.” Namjoon nods. 

“Now please go make sure Jungkookie is greeting well and not driving Yoongi up the wall. He looks up to you.”

“Thank you, Father. Please get some rest. We can handle the out of the office stuff.” Namjoon rises, reaches for the door.

“Thank you, Namjoon. Oh! One more thing.”

“Hmm? What’s that?” Namjoon freezes, half-in, half out of the door.

“You and Hoseok are a good match. Congratulations.” Father Kim smirks over the rim of his mug.

“Ah, really?! You too?! Isn’t there something or another about gossip in the bible?” Namjoon wails.

“Have a good day, Namjoon.” Father Kim rises from his chair with a laugh and disappears behind his bedroom door.

He was right, though. They were a good match.

Chapter Text

“I think you should do it,” Yoongi stirs his cup of noodles with his chopsticks, “what do you have to lose?”

“Nothing, but I just think I’d feel weird living and eating here for free while also taking Father Kim’s money.” Namjoon picks at the label on the bottle of soda Yoongi had given him.

“You’re not taking Father Kim’s money. You’d probably do what I do, and contract.” Yoongi shrugs, takes a big slurp of his noodles.

“Oh? Explain, please.”

“It’s like this,” Yoongi wipes his mouth, “I’m working for Father Kim, but I’m not employed by him. I’m employed by a contracting agency, and I contracted with Father Kim, because I already knew him, and he already knew the contractor, and he’s the one who put me in contact with them. Remember, Jimin and I used to live here, too, we’ve known Father Kim forever. And Father Kim has been in this congregation long before he became the priest, so he knows everyone and has all of the connections. Everyone knows him and everyone who’s worth a shit likes him, and he’s done so much for everyone that people fall all over themselves to help him and people who he thinks are worth helping.”

“Ah, I see,” Namjoon nods, “so he sets it all up and I just...do the counselling.”

“Essentially. I still have to go into an office and turn in invoices every week, but for all intents and purposes, you sign the paper, fill out a time sheet, hand it over, and you’re employed with Father Kim, but paid by someone else.”

“Hmm.”

“So, again, I think you should do it.”

“You think I could?”

“Would I tell you to do it if I thought you couldn’t?”

“Okay, okay, fair,” Namjoon laughs, “I think I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna go for it. I’m gonna counsel.”

“Good. I gotta make a grocery run, wanna tag along?”

Namjoon glances at the clock on the wall of his apartment, it’s 3:30, Hoseok would be taking his lunch break soon. Namjoon had been so busy with Father Kim that he had missed breakfast with him, and he was dying to see him again.

“Hmm, no, I’m going to go see Hoseok on his lunch break.”

“You wanna ride? His restaurant is on the way there.”

“You have a car?”

“I wasn’t talking about a piggyback ride, you wanna come or not?”

“Hell yeah, let’s go!”

Yoongi’s car is blue and small and Namjoon has to push the passenger seat all the way back so his head isn’t too close to the roof, and they max out at a speed of 27 miles per hour because of Friday afternoon traffic, but Namjoon revels in being in a clean little space travelling through the city with his new friend. Things are feeling good; he’s got a prospective job in front of him, he’s got a boy who makes his heart race, he’s got clothes on his back and food in his stomach and the same feeling from that morning washes over him again. Happiness.

Yoongi taps his steering along to the beat on the radio, cinematic in its tone but chill in its vibe.

“You’ve got good taste in music.” Namjoon comments, rolling the window down and letting the mid-fall breeze ruffle his hair as they putter down the street. The air wafting by doesn’t smell the best, but it feels good.

“I know. I’m one of the coolest ones in our group.”

“Did you decide that yourself?”

“Jimin did.”

“He’s biased.”

“He’s still not wrong.”

Namjoon laughs at how the small smirk on Yoongi’s face betrays the deadpan tone of his voice. He turns his attention out of the window to the shops they’re passing, knowing they’re closer and closer to the pizza shop by the second.

“You’re really funny, Yoongi.”

“I know. Tell me about what happened with Hoseok last night.”

“I thought you didn’t care about gossip.”

“I don’t, but I do care about Hoseok. And you, I guess.” 

Namjoon snaps his attention back to Yoongi, whose attention is firmly on the red light in front of them.

“Really?”

“Don’t make a big thing about it. Tell me what happened. I’m curious.”

“We went out for a walk, and he took me to his favorite donut shop. Then we climbed up to his hangout spot where there’s a beautiful view of the Manhattan skyline, but to be honest, I wasn’t paying much attention to that at all. I couldn’t stop looking at him. I can’t stop being in awe of him. And then we walked each other home, and when I was dropping him at his door, he kissed me. And everything felt right.”

“Aww. Gross.” Yoongi teases. Namjoon huffs a small laugh and shrugs.

“I really like him, Yoongi.”

“I know. Just don’t break his heart, Namjoon.”

“Jimin already threatened to ‘fucking kill’ me if I do. I think he really meant it.”

“He probably did. Here we are. Tuck and roll.” Yoongi hits the hazard button on his console and pulls over as much as he can, Namjoon jumps out of his door and leans in the window.

“Thank you. See you at Tae’s pizza night?”

“See you at Tae’s pizza night.” Yoongi calls back and takes off down the street again.

Namjoon turns to the pizza shop, he can see Hoseok working behind the counter through the window. He watches him for a moment, the way he interacts with the customers with a bright smile on his face, making sure to have at least a bit of conversation with anyone who approaches the counter. He smiles to himself and pushes open the door to the restaurant, the bell above tinkling as he enters.

“Hello, welcome! Oh, Namjoon!” Hoseok’s eyes go wide, his smile even larger.

“Hey,” Namjoon approaches the counter, “what’s good today?”

“It’s all good.” Hoseok gestures to the menu.

“Can you take lunch?”

“Yes!” A disembodied voice calls from the back.

“That’s a yes,” Hoseok nods, removing his apron and stashing it below the counter, “are you hungry?”

“I could eat.” Namjoon nods.

“How do you feel about onion rings?”

“No thank you,” Namjoon crinkles his nose, “not an onion guy.”

“Hmm, wrong, but okay. What do you want?”

“Um...meatball hero?”

“Oh, wow, you are hungry. Well, you skipped breakfast, so no surprise,” Hoseok leans far over the counter and peeks around the corner toward the kitchen, “Boss! One meatball hoagie and one cheesesteak, please!”

“Coming up!” The disembodied voice calls back.

Hoseok smiles over at Namjoon as he reaches across the gap and grabs two sodas from the icebox.

“You’re really stretchy.” Namjoon laughs as Hoseok plants himself firmly back on the floor.

“I can stretch pretty far when I want.” Hoseok smiles back, just a hint of flush on his cheeks, and Namjoon’s throat dries out a little bit.

“Should we, um. Maybe, uh, have a seat?” Namjoon jumbles his words and kicks himself internally. Hoseok giggles at him and nods.

“Yeah, let’s sit at the window.” Hoseok nods and gestures for Namjoon to follow him. 

“Yoongi drove me here, I didn’t know he had a car.” Namjoon slides into the booth across from Hoseok, pulling out napkins in preparation for the mess he knew he’d make.

“He drove you? It’s his car but he prefers to make Jimin do the driving. Well, I say ‘ make’ him, but Jimin’s weird about other people driving so it’s really like he prefers to let Jimin do the driving.” Hoseok slides Namjoon’s soda to him.

“Heroes, Hoseok?” The disembodied voice calls from the counter, Hoseok slides out of the booth and approaches the counter, grabbing the two paper-wrapped sandwiches from the man behind it.

“Come over here and meet Namjoon! You’ve heard enough about him by now.” He gestures with his head, and the owner of the voice Namjoon has heard so many times before follows closely as Hoseok approaches again.

“So you’re Namjoon! Nice to meet you,” the man holds his hand out and holy hell, Hoseok has a talent for befriending unreasonably attractive people, “I’m Jackson. I own this place.” 

“Oh,” Namjoon reaches out and shakes his hand, “I’m Namjoon. I live next to Hoseok.”

“I know,” Jackson laughs, and he feels like a big brother and Namjoon can instantly see why Hoseok likes working with him, and why there are regulars that try to give him their number all the time, “Hoseok has told me a lot about you.”

“Oh?” Namjoon blushes, looks over to Hoseok, who’s also blushing. What an awkward pair they could be.

“I’ve heard about all of you. Hoseok is full of stories.”

“We’re very interesting people.” Hoseok shrugs, unwrapping his sandwich.

“Please eat before it gets cold. I’ve got dishes to do. I look forward to seeing you many times, Namjoon.” Jackson pats his shoulder with a smile, and heads off back to the kitchen.

“He’s nice.” Namjoon smiles at Hoseok, unwrapping his sandwich as well.

“He’s the best boss I’ve ever had,” Hoseok nods, “I missed you at breakfast this morning.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry about that. I got wrapped up helping out with Father Kim.”

“Jungkookie told me he’s not doing well today, at first I was worried that I had scared you off.” Hoseok pouts. Namjoon wants to slap himself.

“No, no, no, oh my god, no. No. Far from it, last night was...no, scared off is not what I am at all. I am the opposite of scared off.” Namjoon insists, and Hoseok looks relieved. 

“Good, because I’d hate for you to disappear.” Hoseok smiles and bite his sandwich.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Namjoon promises, “I might even have a job, too.”

“Oh?! What job? Where?” Hoseok asks excitedly.

“I’m gonna work for Father Kim. I’m going to do counselling. I think I’m going to start tonight.”

Something flashes across Hoseok’s face, just quick enough that if Namjoon hadn’t been looking at him so intently, he would have missed it. But the smile returns to his face just as quickly as it faltered.

“That’s incredible, Namjoon. I’m happy for you.” Hoseok grins, wrapping his sandwich back up and sliding it aside. 

“You’re done?”

“That’s dinner,” Hoseok nods, opening his soda and draining it in a few gulps, “what do you have to do to get started counselling?”

“Well, I’ve got to go back and sign the offer, and then I guess I just...go to the meetings? I’m not really sure, to be honest. I wasn’t going to do it at first, I was really on the fence, but Yoongi gave me the final push, and I might as well put the degree I busted myself to get to good use.”

“That’s true. That’s really great, Namjoon. And that means I’ll see you tonight when I drop off the pizzas to the youth group. But speaking of, I’ve got to get back.”

“So soon?” Namjoon pouts.

“Almost dinner rush,” Hoseok points to the clock on the wall as he slides out of the booth, “the phone will start ringing off the hook in a minute.”

“Ah, damn,” Namjoon sighs, wrapping his sandwich up and sliding out as well, “I guess I’ll eat this on the way home. See you later?”

Hoseok leans forward and gives Namjoon a quick, soft kiss; Namjoon is startled but beyond thrilled. 

“See you later.” Namjoon smiles as Hoseok pulls away, walking backwards with his hands in his back pockets, a small smirk on his face.

“Get out of here, you’ve got a job to get to.” Hoseok teases as he disappears into the kitchen.

If Namjoon hadn’t already fallen for Hoseok, he definitely just face-planted, hard.

Chapter Text

“And sign here, and here.” Father Kim points to a couple of different lines on the contract in front of him.

“I think my hand is cramped forever.” Namjoon pouts as he dots the last “i” on the page.

“And one more. And then the date.” Father Kim slides the final paper in front of him.

“Ah, there’s more paperwork here than I’ve ever seen.” Namjoon whines.

“You’re fine, you’re fine,” Father Kim laughs as he slides the papers into a folder and stows that folder away in his drawer, “a minor pain for a big reward.”

“How were you so sure I’d take the position that you already registered me and drew up contracts?” Namjoon asks as he rubs his sore fingers.

“I just knew. I told you, you have a good heart. You already wanted to do this. You had already signed paperwork for your background and confidentiality. It was just a matter of time. I didn’t think it would happen so quickly, but nevertheless, I was right. I don’t say or do things if I’m not sure I’m right.”

“Fair enough, I guess,” Namjoon shrugs, “now what?”

“Now you’re employed with the hospital system as an independent contractor, and I have hired you. So now, we go and we set up the room for the meeting, and we wait for the members to arrive the next hour or so, and Taehyungie and Hoseok will arrive with the pizza in the next two hours or so, which is really all I’m looking forward to.”

“This is crazy. I have a job.” Namjoon grins to himself. 

“You do. A rewarding one, too.” Father Kim nods, smiling as he types furiously on his laptop. 

“So will I be attending all the meetings?”

“Let’s put you strictly with the youth group just to start,” Father Kim closes his laptop, slides it away into the drawer with Namjoon’s paperwork and locks it. He swivels his chair and pushes himself out of it, obviously still shaky from whatever it is that’s ailing him but trying valiantly to hide it, “we’ll get you comfortable and make you familiar. Come with me.”

Namjoon rises and follows Father Kim to the all-purpose room, he can hear Yoongi and Jungkook singing along to the radio in the kitchen as they prep for dinner, and Jimin is there giggling at them. He feels warmer in this place everyday. 

“Father,” Namjoon grabs Father Kim’s wrist, Father Kim turns to face him, startled, “I really can’t tell you how grateful I am.”

“I know you are, Namjoon,” Father Kim pulls his wrist from Namjoon’s loose grip and places his hand on Namjoon’s shoulder, “I can see it in everything that you’re doing for us here. You fit right in and jumped in to help without ever being asked to. That’s more powerful than words.”

“You’ve changed my life.”

“No, no, no. You’re changing your life. I just helped give you resources. Now, will you help me set up?”

“Of course.”

They begin unfolding the tables and sliding the chairs in, a task done so many times now that it’s pure muscle memory. 

“One thing you have to be mindful of, especially in the youth group, is that you may be a familiar face among the crowd, but you are not a familiar face in the group. Some of these kids, Namjoon...they’ve seen some things, bad things, and they’re hesitant to trust a new person. So don’t be hurt if they don’t open right up to you.”

“Of course, of course,” Namjoon nods, taking mental notes, “it takes time.”

“And they will get there, it just takes some patience.”

“Naturally.”

“And it’s okay if you’re nervous. This is a big thing for you. I’m excited to have you as a part of the team, but it’s understandable if you’re nervous. I was more nervous for my first day as priest here than I’ve ever been about anything.” Father Kim opens the windows to the room, allowing a cool breeze to sweep in. He turns and leans back against the windowsill, rolling his neck, it’s clear he’s trying not to show how unwell he’s feeling, but it’s in his body language and that’s something that’s hard to hide. 

Namjoon crosses the room and leans against the wall next to him, looking out at the room in front of him. It’s sort of mind-blowing that he’d be starting his first adult job there in such a short amount of time. He’d worked small jobs like errand running, dog sitting and babysitting in high school, but now he had a career. In his field. And a salary. It was a little disorienting. 

“Father?”

“Hmm?” Father Kim responds, eyes closed as he rests his head against the glass of the window. 

“Why did you join the priesthood?”

Father Kim opens his eyes and looks over a Namjoon, a small, thoughtful smile on his face. 

“There are a lot of different answers to that question, and most of them have layers to them. The short of it is that I wanted to help.”

“Help?”

“You got into counselling to help those around you, right?”

“Right.”

“I did the same but by a different means. I wanted to help the community, and the people in it, but I’m not all that smart, and I don’t want credit for it, because I don’t want to earn applause for doing something that needs done so desperately, and the way to do that? Give it up to God. God provided, not Father Kim. The dinner? Thank you, God. Housing? Thank you, God. Community resources? Thank you, God. The Lord provided and should be thanked, not little Seokjin Kim who grew up in the neighborhood. Not little Jinnie who scraped his knees at his first communion and cried at his first confession and grew up in the congregation. No, God is to thank. The people are cared for and I don’t have to have any spotlight about it, that’s why I chose the priesthood.”

“Wow,” Namjoon looks back out to the room, “so it wasn’t about, like, saving souls?”

“Isn’t that what that is? I’m not aiming to save everyone from eternal hellfire when their hellfire might very well be right here on earth. And they need saving now.”

“That’s why you don’t mind that I’m an atheist.”

“No, I don’t mind, not at all. We don’t all have to live and breathe and believe the same. Even within the church, there are those of us-like me- who view scripture and its practical, realistic application very differently. But that’s okay, we can still all be good people, with good hearts, and I don’t think less of them, or of you, because we look at the world differently. You don’t believe what I do, and I believe what you don’t. Take Yoongi and Jimin, for example. Yoongi is an atheist, Jimin is Cathoic, and they’re planning to marry, because their beliefs don’t matter, their hearts do. I know that sounds trite, but in my experiences, it’s true. If your only barometer for morality is faith or your only incentive for being a good person is because God-or your preferred deity- said to do so...well, then, it doesn’t really mean as much as just being a good person, does it? And what is a ‘good person’, really? Someone who follows what they believe to be the word of God to the letter, and is an exclusionary because of their interpretation? By their belief, they are good. Not by mine. Someone who doesn’t believe in God, but extends their goodwill because that’s what they want to do? That’s a good person. You don’t need faith in God to be a holy person.”

“Oh, wow. I’ve never really thought about it like that,” Namjoon says slowly, absorbing what Father Kim is putting out to him. He had never expected these things from the mouth of a priest, he really had to start working on prejudging people, “so, you don’t believe that you need to give me God and save me from eternal hellfire, then.”

“Nope. Not by half. My belief, Namjoon, is that at the heart of it, if you’re a good and true person, God doesn’t care what your beliefs are, or about your sexuality or gender performance, or any of that. We’re made in God’s image, all of us, and he makes no mistakes. Your ‘differences’, Namjoon, they don’t matter when it comes to the afterlife that I believe in. It matters what is in here,” Father Kim lays his hand over his heart, “I truly believe that. A kind atheist has more of a place in heaven than a hateful Christian.”

Namjoon is deeply touched, he can’t seem to muster up what he thinks would be an appropriate response to such beautiful sentiments. 

“Father, I don’t know what to say. You really do amaze me. I know that’s not really what you want to hear, judging by everything that you just said, but you’re incredible. I just...I’ve never been religious, I’ve never really had a conversation like this with anyone who is. I always assumed stuffiness and piety and I guess that’s on me for assuming. Thank you, Father Kim. There really should be more people like you in the world.”

Father Kim ducks his head, his ears have gone fire engine red. 

“First of all, Namjoon, work on your preconceived notions of people.” Father Kim scolds with a smile.

“You’re right, you’re right,” Namjoon laughs with a nod, “I’ve been a fool.”

“To your second point, I’m going to have to agree with you on that. More love, more compassion, more acceptance, more openness. Less judgement in the world would really be a beautiful thing. I think that’s why we all fall together so well here. We’re a truly open door, accepting of people like you, of people like Taehyung, of Yoongi and Jimin and Hoseok and so many other members of the congregation that are deemed lesser than or othered by outdated interpretations of a book that really should just teach us to love. None of you are other. You’re different, yes, in ways that are important to acknowledge if you want to acknowledge them, and celebrate them because it’s powerful to celebrate the pieces of us that make the world a colorful place. But you’re not less than, you’re not inherently made of sin. And this is a radical notion to many other priests, but to be blunt, I don’t care. It’s not radical to open your arms to those who need you, and you’re a terrible person if you live under the pretense of being a beacon of hope while you shun those who are mistreated for being who they are. It angers me, Namjoon, that you and our friends and many of our congregants have suffered injustices for living your truths. So I will always raise your voices and provide for you. Because I love widely, and I love the six of you very fiercely. I will do anything to protect you.” Father Kim’s eyes are glassy and his voice is strained. 

“Your passion, Father. You make me feel impassioned.” Namjoon reaches out and pulls Father Kim into a tight hug, and he hugs back, and Namjoon pretends not to hear the sniffles that escape him. 

“Good god, Namjoon,” Father Kim’s voice crackles as he pulls away, “I’ve lost my voice and dinner service hasn’t even started.”

“Let me do most of the talking tonight. I can handle it.”

“I know you can.”

—————-

“Okay, everyone,” Father Kim clears his increasingly strained throat and gestures to Namjoon, who sits sandwiched between him and Jungkook for moral support, and as a display that he is now among them as a helpful and trustworthy figure, “this is Namjoon. I’m sure you’ve seen him during meal services by now. He’s been brought to us by Hoseok. He will be joining our circles from now on. Everyone please greet him.”

All eyes in the room come to rest on Namjoon, he smiles confidently and gives a wave, but inside, he’s shaking like a leaf in a storm. The faces in the circle welcome him with assorted versions of hello, and he feels a little more confident with having been greeted.

“Hi, everyone. I’m Namjoon. Thank you for having me.” He smiles widely at the collective of teens in front of him. 

“So,” Father Kim claps his hands, “as you can hear, my voice is struggling today. I’m going to sit here in support, but I’m going to keep quiet and take in more than I put out today. Now, who would like to start?”

There’s hesitation in the room as the group looks to each other, and Namjoon feels the heat rising on his neck and sweat start to form on his brow. 

“Um,” Jungkook raises his hand, “I can start.”

Namjoon hopes his sigh of relief wasn’t too loud. 

“Please, Jungkook, go ahead.” Namjoon nods. 

“Today is the anniversary of the day my father got taken to jail. Which means it’s also the anniversary of the day he almost killed my mom. It was hard today, it’s hard every year. Most days I know it wasn’t us, he was the problem. Today I thought, what if I were a better son and why didn’t I stay between them? Why did I let him hit her?”

“And what conclusion did you come to?” Father Kim asks. 

“It wouldn’t have mattered if I did or didn’t let him. He would have hurt both of us anyway. It was important that I got help, and got us out of there. I’m a good son and she’s a good mother, and blaming myself isn’t any good because neither of us are to blame. And we survived and we’re stronger now. We’re fighters and it’s okay to have conflicting feelings today.”

“That’s very wise, Jungkook.” Namjoon nods, and Jungkook’s ears flush a little. 

“Thank you.” Jungkook nods back, a small smile on his face. He looks lighter for having shared. 

“Um,” a young girl raises her hand, “I’d like to share, too.”

“Oh, please, go ahead.” Namjoon gestures to her. 

And the sharing and trust building begins. They hear from most everyone in the circle, about school stresses and money problems and relationship troubles, all tinted by the colors of kids who have really had to grow up too fast, and Namjoon’s heart aches for them, but he’s glad they seem to be able to rely on each other as they speak out and offer each other advice and relate their stories to each other. Father Kim is visibly proud of them and they prop each other up and support one another. 

There’s a knock at the door before it swings open, Hoseok smiling broadly with plastic bags hanging from his wrists, Taehyung behind him with a stack of pizzas.

“Dinner!” Hoseok chirps, and any semblance of a serious conversation melts as the room becomes a hive mind ready to dive into pizza.

“Wait wait wait,” Father Kim calls over the voices mingling, the group freezes and turns to him, buying Hoseok and Taehyung time to set their offerings down and slink back out of the door, “what do we say?”

“Thank you, everyone.” The group says in unison.

“And thank you. Okay, go eat.”

Jungkook doles out slices and pours cups of soda as Father Kim starts to round up the chairs. Namjoon approaches him, chair in hand.

“Can I help you with anything?” He asks, adding his chair to the stack.

“No, no, you’ve done enough today. Thank you so much, Namjoon, you did very well.”

“Thank you, Father. I’m glad I chose yes.”

“I am, too. Take Jungkook and go up to pizza Friday. I’ll be up soon.”

“Thank you again, Father.”

“Get out of here.”

“Jungkook, let’s go!” 

“Be right there,” Jungkook calls back, stuffing a bite of breadstick in his mouth, “just hang on!”

Namjoon laughs and makes his way towards the door, the smell of the pizza is making his stomach rumble and he’s ready to see his friends; he missed them, and the very idea of that gives him a warm, tingly feeling.

“Namjoon, there you are!” Hoseok grins as Namjoon pops out of the door.

“Oh, you waited for me!” Namjoon grins, closing the door behind him.

“Of course I did,” Hoseok smiles, leaning against the wall, “I wanted to walk with you to dinner.”

“I appreciate that,” Namjoon smiles, leaning on the wall next to him, “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” Hoseok smiles, and he’s so cute and sweet that Namjoon can’t help himself, he leans in for a kiss. Hoseok meets him halfway; it’s quick but it’s perfect and welcoming and warm and Namjoon thinks he could end every workday like this forever.

“I’m never going to get tired of that.” Namjoon smiles as he pulls away and leans back against the wall.

“I hope not,” Hoseok leans his head on Namjoon’s shoulder, “how did it go in there?”

“Fine, once I stopped feeling like I was going to piss myself.” Namjoon laughs.

“You looked right in there. Taehyung and I might have spied for a minute before we came in.”

“You creep.” Namjoon teases.

“Not creeping, observing.” Hoseok laughs.

The door swings open again and Jungkook grins at them, shrugging his work jacket off and throwing it over his shoulder.

“I’m off-duty. Let’s go!”

_______________

It’s a quiet gathering that night, Jimin isn’t feeling very well and Taehyung’s day was really draining, but everyone is cozy and comfortable and chatting calmly about their days and the approaching holidays. Namjoon learns that they tend to do Thanksgiving as a group, because Taehyung and Father Kim’s parents don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, Jimin is estranged from his family, the family that Yoongi isn’t estranged from is at least a day’s trip away, and Hoseok’s family is even further. So they serve dinner at the church, and then they gather as a family in the church’s kitchen for dinner together, Jungkook’s mother joins in and it sounds lovely to Namjoon and he’s looking forward to it, even though it’s over a month away. 

“Thanksgiving is exhausting and I, like, really hate it to be honest.” Jimin mumbles sleepily from his spot on the couch, sprawled across their friends, his head on Taehyung’s thigh, his hand wrapped in Yoongi’s as his legs are slung over his lap. Taehyung strokes his hair.

“You just do what you gotta do, babe.” Yoongi squeezes his hand, Jimin hums affirmatively.

“I don’t know why we’re talking about it anyway, my birthday and Halloween are first and that’s so much more important.” Jimin shrugs.

“Ah, true,” Taehyung agrees, “but it takes so much time to prep a holiday here. We should have been talking about this in August. Jinnie’s gonna pull his hair out like he does every year.”

“Is it that bad?” Namjoon grimaces.

“Yes, and no. It’s...hmm...busy, for lack of a better word. Chaotic.” Father Kim confirms. 

“We’ll make it fun, though,” Hoseok nods, “I’ve never been here for Thanksgiving but I’m sure it’s fun.”

“It’s fun after everyone is fed,” Jungkook confirms, “and then we take naps and then we eat and then we nap again and then we eat and then we go to bed.”

“That’s what you do.” Father Kim teases.

“He’s a baby, leave him alone.” Jimin reaches out with his leg and kicks in Father Kim’s general direction. He’s about a foot short of actually hitting him, but he seems content with the point made by the attempt.

“Anyway, everyone is a great cook, and everyone gets so full and happy and it’s nice to have, like, a family.” Jungkook nods.

“I’ll look forward to it.” Namjoon smiles.

“Jimin,” Taehyung taps his shoulder, “I love you but it’s bedtime.”

Jimin whines and lifts his head, Taehyung slides out from under him and bids everyone good night before slipping out of the door and back over to the apartment.

“It is bedtime.” Jimin hoists himself up, stacking paper plates and trudging sleepily toward the kitchen.

“Babe, do you want your leftovers?” Yoongi calls after him.

“They’re yours!” Jimin calls back.

Yoongi combines their boxes and collects the rest of the trash and Hoseok and Namjoon replace the pillows that have been scattered around the room, Father Kim wipes down the condensation rings left on the table and Jungkook fills a trash bag. Namjoon’s amazed but he feels comfort in this unspoken harmony.

“Okay,” Yoongi nods, opening the front door, “we’re out. See you tomorrow.”

“We’re coming!” Jungkook chirps, half-jogging behind him, Father Kim close behind.

“Good night, Hoseok. Good night Namjoon.” Father Kim waves, Hoseok and Namjoon respond in unison as Hoseok closes the door behind them and locks the door.

“Do you want to go to bed? Or hang out for a while?” Namjoon asks, internally hoping for the latter.

“No, no, stay. I don’t want you to go yet,” Hoseok smiles, plopping down onto the couch, “sit, let’s talk.”

“I can talk,” Namjoon smiles, taking the seat at the other end of the couch, “how was your day?”

“Ugh, busy, but then again, it’s Friday. It’s nice, though, because it’s cooling down outside so I’m not roasting inside and outside. Thank you for asking. What about you? How was your first day of employment? You said you were pissing yourself but it sure didn't look like it.” Hoseok smiles.

“Terrifying, really, I was so scared,” Namjoon laughs, “until Jungkook came to my rescue and broke the ice.”

“He’s helpful like that,” Hoseok nods, then grins slyly, “you looked really cute running the group.”

Namjoon’s skin instantly heats and his heart pounds. 

“You looked cute bringing in dinner?” Namjoon attempts to return the compliment.

“I know that.” Hoseok laughs, re-situating on the couch, legs folded pretzel-style, propping his head up on his hand. Namjoon’s learned now that this is Hoseok’s body language when he’s the most comfortable- chin propped on his hand, leaned forward, looking perfectly relaxed.

“I’m glad you do.” Namjoon smiles back.

“I really like you, Namjoon.” 

“I really like you too, Hobi.”

“God,” Hoseok laughs, rubs at his face, “it sounds so middle school, doesn’t it? I like you, Namjoon. I like-like you.”

“Kind of,” Namjoon laughs back, “but you make me feel kind of middle school.”

“Oh yeah?” Hoseok grins.

“Yeah.” Namjoon smiles back, holding out his hand. Hoseok takes it, Namjoon leans back against the arm of the couch and pulls Hoseok close. Hoseok crawls across the small distance of the couch, pressing his chest to Namjoon’s, and leans in for a kiss. Namjoon wraps his arms tight around Hoseok, kissing back, heart racing at the soft sigh of happiness that comes from Hoseok at the simple moment. Hoseok pulls away, eyes sparkling, but clearly tired.

“I like-liked that.” Hoseok grins, still close enough for Namjoon to feel his breath on his face.

“I like-liked that, too.” Namjoon brushes Hoseok’s hair from his eyes, places a small kiss on his forehead. Hoseok repositions, settles in comfortable onto Namjoon’s chest, and Namjoon strokes his hair softly, slowly.

“Do you have to go home tonight?” Hoseok asks, voice muffled in Namjoon’s chest.

“No. Do you want me to stay?”

“I do. I just,” Hoseok lifts his head, looks up at Namjoon, “I just want to cuddle with you. Will you stay with me tonight?”

Nothing in the world could make Namjoon say no. No gun to his head, no fire to his feet, nothing would stop him from staying the night.

“I would love to stay with you tonight.” Namjoon smiles. Hoseok pushes himself up, taking Namjoon’s hand and pulling him off of the couch.

“You can just sleep in your boxers, if that’s comfortable.” Hoseok leads him to the bedroom, it’s decorated in vivid colors and soft textures, fluffy blankets and oversized pillows cover the bed.

“That’s comfortable.” Namjoon nods.

“I’ll be right back, okay? Please get settled.” Hoseok pulls down the covers, grabs pajamas from his dresser, and disappears through the door.

Namjoon frowns that he doesn’t have his toothbrush here, but one night won’t kill him, and it’s more than worth the terrible morning breath to stay the night.

He settles under the covers, they’re incredibly soft and smell delightful, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to convince himself to leave the bed in the morning.

He’s nearly asleep when he feels the covers lift beside him and Hoseok slides in next to him.

“You smell good.” Namjoon mumbles.

“This is wonderful.” Hoseok whispers back.

Namjoon pulls him closer, Hoseok curls into him, head resting on his chest, arm slung over Namjoon’s stomach, and it feels so right that Namjoon can’t believe he hasn’t been doing it for years.

“Hey.” Hoseok whispers.

“Hmm?” Namjoon opens his eyes just enough to see Hoseok peeking up at him, soft and cute in the sliver of light coming in the window.

“Thank you for staying.”

“There’s nothing else I’d rather be doing.”

Hoseok kisses his cheek and settles back down, Namjoon kisses the top of his head and gently strokes his shoulder.

“Goodnight, Joonie.”

“Goodnight, Hobi.”

Chapter Text

Namjoon wakes with the rising sun and slides out of bed carefully, doing his best not to disturb Hoseok. Saturdays mean late shifts for him and it wouldn’t do to wake him at 6 in the morning.

“Hey,” Hoseok smiles, eyes still closed, and Namjoon curses himself, “are you leaving?”

“Gonna go help in the kitchen.” Namjoon responds, voice low and soft.

Hoseok cracks his eyes open slightly, reaching out to Namjoon.

“Can I have a morning breath kiss before you go?” 

How could Namjoon say no to that?

“Of course,” Namjoon smiles and leans over him, leaving a soft, gentle kiss on his lips, and Hoseok grins sleepily as Namjoon pulls away, “sleep in well, okay?”

“Mmf.” Hoseok slides his eyes closed again, burrowing further under the covers. Namjoon desperately wants to climb back in with him, but he needs to go back to his own apartment and get the taste of the previous night’s pizza out of his mouth.

He collects his clothes and his bag, then creeps out of Hoseok’s apartment, locking it up behind him. He fishes around in his pockets for his own key, a mild panic arising that’s only squashed when he turns his pockets entirely inside out and the metal falls to his feet beside him. He really needs to get a keychain, this whole house key thing is new to him and he’s locked himself out of his home more times than he can count.

Inside, all of the lights are on, and Taehyung’s bedroom door is wide open as if they left in a hurry. 

“Taehyung?” Namjoon calls, but there’s no response. He briefly searches for a note, but there’s nothing. Feeling slightly uneasy, he quickly changes into clean clothes, swipes his toothbrush over his teeth a few times, and hustles to the church kitchen. There’s a distinct feeling of wrong wrong wrong in the air.

He takes a deep breath and makes his way through the back door, and things are just different enough in there to confirm that something isn’t right. Yoongi is fiddling with things, moving them from one spot to the next, but not really doing anything, and Jimin is there with him, eyeing his phone intently while he picks absent-mindedly at his lip. The fact that he’s there early on a Saturday is enough to wave a red flag.

“Stop picking at your lip, you’re going to bleed,” Yoongi scolds, “and don’t chew on it, either, because I know that’s what you’re going to do next.”

“Sorry,” Jimin pouts at him, finally raising his eyes from his phone, “oh, Namjoon, I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad you’re here, too, but why are you here? Where’s Jungkook? Shouldn’t he be helping?”

“He’s setting up the dining room,” Yoongi rolls dough out on the counter in front of him, “he’s going to need your help this morning.”

“Doesn’t Taehyung help on Saturdays?”

“Tae’s not here.” Jimin offers, short and clipped, voice tight as he sets to work slicing fruit.

“What’s going on?” Namjoon’s beyond frightened and far beyond confused.

“Taehyung is at the hospital with Father Kim. They took him early this morning.” Yoongi shapes a clump of dough into a biscuit, sets it aside, and picks it up again to work at it some more.

“It looks fine, babe, just put it down.” Jimin peeks over at Yoongi.

“Hey. Come on. Alright?” Yoongi grumbles, finally content with the shape, and moves on to the next one.

Whatever that interaction was, Namjoon would worry about it later. There were more pressing things to worry about.

“The hospital? What happened? What’s going on? Is he okay?” Namjoon hears his voice becoming strained, he knew Father Kim wasn’t as alright as he was pretending to be, but he had let it slide.

“He’ll be alright,” Jimin stops his chopping and looks up at Namjoon with a smile, “it’s gonna be okay.”

“But what-”

“He’ll be fine,” Yoongi interrupts, taking his tray of biscuits and sliding it into the oven, “please go help Jungkook. He needs you more than we do right now.”

“Oh. Right,” Namjoon nods, “got it.”

“Thank you, Namjoon!” Jimin calls behind him as he makes his way to the all-purpose room, where Jungkook is more than halfway done with set-up, though he looks frantic.

“Jungkook, I’m here.” Namjoon knocks on the doorframe.

“Oh, thank god,” Jungkook exhales, “can you please take over from here? I need a minute.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Namjoon takes the chair that Jungkook is gripping, knuckles white and eyes wide.

“Thank you. I’m just gonna sit right here.” Jungkook plops down on the floor with a sigh.

“What’s going on, Kook?” Namjoon slides the chair into place.

“I’ve never done meal service without Father Kim. I’ve never done the greetings alone.” Jungkook pouts.

“But you’ve done them both before, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, but it’s different with Father Kim there. He’s like...I don’t know, it’s different.”

“I’ll stand with you, if you want.” Namjoon slides the last chair into place and sits on the floor next to Jungkook, reaching out to pat his back.

 “Would you, please?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.”

“So,” Namjoon ventures gently, “what exactly happened?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Jungkook runs his hand through his hair and lets out a deep sigh, “I got a frantic call from Taehyung at I don’t even know what time this morning, they had already called Jimin and Yoongi and all I could really get from them was that they were taking Father Kim into the hospital immediately and they’d be in touch later. So I rushed down here and opened up for Yoongi and now I’m kind of just...waiting.”

“Are you worried?”

“Are you not worried?”

“Fair.”

“He just...didn’t seem too terrible yesterday and, I don’t know. I feel like I missed something that I shouldn’t have. Jimin said he thought it was pretty clear that he was in rough shape and I guess yeah, it was, but I didn’t know it was like...like that.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, Kook,” Namjoon wraps his arm around Jungkook’s shoulders, “Father Kim is an adult, a stubborn one. And in a hospital situation, stubbornness is good. He’s not gonna let a cold take him down.”

“I guess that’s true.” Jungkook nods, his focus somewhere in the middle distance.

“Maybe he’ll bring another friend back. Maybe it’s actually a secret recruitment mission. He did meet Hoseok there when Hoseok had pneumonia, afterall.” Namjoon laughs.

Jungkook furrows his brow and cocks his head at him. It’s clear he wants to say something, but it’s also clear that he thought better of it.

“Oh, also,” Jungkook bites his lip, “even if Father Kim comes home tonight, there’s no way he’s gonna be in any condition to run tonight’s support group. So…”

“That means it’s up to us?”
“It’s up to us.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

------------

“We have to get you a phone.” Jimin says, nudging Namjoon out of his daydream.

“I’ve never owned a phone before.” 

“Well, now you’re, like, a counselor. And if something like this happens again, someone can let you know immediately. And also I can send you pictures of our cats.” Jimin nods.

“The short of it is that he wants to show off our cats constantly.” Yoongi smirks.

“And other important things!” Jimin scoffs, reaching across the metal counter to flick Yoongi’s hand.

“He’s right, though, Joonie, you really should have a phone.” Jungkook agrees. 

“Take Hoseok with you and you can get a plan together when you get your first check.”  Jimin suggests.

“Oh, Jimin, I don’t know if we’re a joint cell plan kind of couple quite yet.” Namjoon laughs.

“But you are a couple!” Jimin exclaims, and Namjoon can’t help the smile that creeps across his face.

“I mean, I stayed the night at his place last night, so, yeah. I guess so.”

Yoongi nearly chokes on his water and Jungkook’s eyes go as wide as dinner plates.

“You what?!” Yoongi coughs.

“No, no, it wasn’t like that. We just hung out. Talked. Cuddled. That’s all.”

Yoongi and Jimin’s voices overlap, Jimin affectionately cooing ‘cute’ as Yoongi scoffs that it’s ‘gross’, smiling despite the teasing.

The tell-tale sound of the back door creaking open has them whipping their heads toward the door.

“Hey.” A sleepy-looking, disheveled Taehyung pokes their head in, Father Kim standing by their side.

“Oh my god,” Jimin rounds the counter and nearly lunges at Taehyung, wrapping his arms tight around them, “Jinnie, come in here, let me get you, too.”

“Hey, hey, Jimin, you’re so greedy. Let me in.” Yoongi approaches too, Jimin makes room for him and the group hug continues.

“We should let you in, I guess.” Jimin sniffles.

“Yes, please.” Taehyung croaks.

“Here, let us get you something to eat.” Jimin hustles to the fridge, but Father Kim stops him with a loose hand around his wrist.

“No, no- your wrists are so small, Jimin- I just want to go lay down. I just need to lay down.” Father Kim smiles weakly. 

“Oh,” Jimin blinks, “okay. Yeah.”

“Jungkookie, will you make me a frankensandwich?” Taehyung pouts.

“I’m on it.” Jungkook hustles to the pantry.

“I’m gonna go lay him down. Namjoon,” Taehyung yawns, “will you get his door for me?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good night, Jinnie.” Jimin tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

“Rest well, feel better.” Yoongi calls after them, Father Kim waves behind him to acknowledge it, but he’s practically asleep already as they shuffle down the hallway together and Taehyung leads him to his bed. 

“Taehyungie,” Father Kim sighs as Taehyung flicks on the ceiling fan, “you know I have to get back to work.”

“No, I don’t think so. You have to take care.” Taehyung scolds, taking Father Kim by the shoulders and forcing him to sit on the bed.

“You’re taking advantage of my weakened state. You’re a terrible sibling.” Father Kim whines, unzipping and shrugging off his oversized hoodie. It’s affectionate and Taehyung smiles lop-sidedly at him.

“I even took you out in public in your pajamas.” Taehyung grins, taking the sweater from him and taming his hair.

“A grave sin. Say 10 Hail Marys and make me coffee and a bagel when I wake as penance.”

“Certainly, Father.” Taehyung bows.

“I love you.” Father Kim opens his arms for a hug.

“I love you, too,” Taehyung leans in and wraps Father Kim in a tight hug, “please rest, okay? We’ve got it.”

“Thank you.”

Taehyung plants a kiss on Father Kim’s head, flicks off the lights and shuts the door behind them as they leave his room. Namjoon smiles awkwardly at them, waiting in the office.

“You creeping on family matters?” Taehyung teases.

“He’s going to be okay?” Namjoon asks tentatively.

“Yeah, yeah, absolutely.” Taehyung nods, collecting paperwork off of the desk.

“Can I ask what happened?” 

“Oh, yeah, I guess I never explained to anyone,” Taehyung laughs tiredly, digging around in the pockets of Father Kim’s laptop bag for the key to the desk, “ever since I was really little, and I assume since Jinnie was little, too, he’s had really bad respiratory problems from time to time. As we got older, he sort of outgrew it, and we didn’t have to worry so much every time he caught a cold, and eventually by the time he went to seminary, he didn’t even have a rescue inhaler anymore, we were so confident. But last night he called me and he sounded like he was suffocating, he could hardly even get my name out of his mouth, he was just gasping and wheezing and choking. So I came down, and we went to the hospital, and he got an emergency breathing treatment and steroids and- aha, here it is- and now he has to have his inhaler again and he needs to rest up for a few days, this really wiped him out.”

“So it was an asthma attack?”

“That,” Taehyung opens the bottom drawer in the desk and fishes around in the folders there, “or a severe allergic reaction. Either way, he’s on medication again so hopefully he doesn’t almost die like this again.”

“I’m glad you were there to take him in.”

“Me, too. I’m glad he called. Otherwise, you know.”

“Yeah.”

“So. I’m going to go scarf down that sandwich, go get Jinnie’s inhaler at the pharmacy. And then I’m going back to our place and going back to bed. I’m over this life right now. Here,” Taehyung hands a green folder over, “this is everything you and Jungkookie need to know for the support group tonight.”

“Oh,” Namjoon takes the thick folder from Taehyung’s hands, “thank you.”
“If you need help, Jungkookie knows a lot about these people. Also, don’t be surprised if you see him, Yoongi is in that group as well. I’m sure he figures you’ll be running it, so I don’t know if he’ll be in tonight, because like...it could be kind of awkward, you know? Just, what happens in group, stays in group.”

“Of course, of course.” Namjoon nods.

“Thanks, Namjoon.”

“Thanks, Tae.”

_________________

Namjoon sits in his chair, staring into the middle distance. This particular group had taken it out of him; the teen group had been intimidating, sure, but this one, there was a lot of hopelessness and Namjoon wasn’t so sure he handled it well. He was exhausted.

“Hey,” Yoongi waves his hand in front of Namjoon’s face, “are you okay?”

Namjoon blinks, snapping out of his daze, Yoongi and Jungkook are looking back at him expectantly.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I’m just--that was heavy.” Namjoon sighs.

“Yeah,” Yoongi rubs at the back of his neck, “it can be like that sometimes. You’ll get used to it. It’s just, with the holidays coming up quick, it’s a pretty big reminder of how much everything can actually suck.”

“Yeah. I get it. I just hope that doesn’t go down as the most catastrophic support group ever.” Namjoon laughs, self-deprecating and humorless.

“It couldn’t,” Jungkook assures him, taking his hand and pulling him from his chair, “no one threw anything, no one tried to stab themselves, and no one’s abusive ex showed up to confront them.”

“That’s happened?!”

“Yep, every one of those things have happened. A tense and awkward group, that’s not the worst that could happen.” Yoongi collects used cups and plates and tosses them into the trash.

“Well. I’m glad that we didn’t have any assaults or stalkings.” 

“You did fine. Don’t worry about it. Really. It’s only your second time and you really made an attempt. People will open up.” Jungkook assures him, plucking up the last donut as Yoongi offers it to him before throwing the box in the trash.

“Thanks. That really means a lot. I was scared shitless.”

“We know,” Yoongi laughs, filling his travel mug with the last bit of coffee from the paper box- which Namjoon recognizes as being from the bakery Hobi’s friend Rose works at- before tossing the box in the garbage.

“You know that bakery?” Namjoon asks.

“This one?” Jungkook mumbles around a mouthful of donut.

“Yeah, Hobi took me there the other night.”

“The owner, Rose, she used to date Taehyung,” Yoongi wheels the trash can out of the room and into the hall, Namjoon and Jungkook shut off the lights and follow close behind, “in art school. They’re still good friends. She provides the coffee, cookies, and donuts for the groups so they don’t go to waste. She’s also hired some of the youth group as part timers and a few people from the NA group as delivery staff.”

“Huh. I didn’t know everyone was so intertwined.” Namjoon holds the trash can still while Yoongi pulls the bag out and ties it off.

“A big city is still small when you break it down,” Jungkook takes the bag from Yoongi and slings it over his shoulder, “and once you’re a friend of the Kim family, you’re in it for life. You have to really fuck up for them to wash their hands of you.”

“Good to know. I’ll try my best not to really fuck up.” Namjoon laughs.

“Jungkook is taking the trash, so, Namjoon. Help me shut down and lock up?” 

“No problem.”

Yoongi powers down appliances and Namjoon locks the doors, Yoongi flicks the lights off and double checks that the doors are locked. Namjoon doesn’t question it. He knows it’s a thing , he’s picked up on it over time. He lets it be, if it’s meant to come up, it will.

“I’m gonna go check on Father Kim. See you tomorrow?” 

“See you tomorrow.” Namjoon nods.

Yoongi disappears into the dimly-lit hallway, Namjoon grabs a bottle of water from the staff cabinet and makes his way toward the front door. He nearly jumps out of his skin as he walks down the aisle between pews, Hoseok is sitting there with his head bowed, hands folded, silent.

“Hoseok?” Namjoon whispers.

“Oh,” Hoseok’s head jerks up, eyes wide, “Namjoon!”

“Hey, aren’t you tired? It’s late,” Namjoon approaches him, “sorry to interrupt.”

“No, no, it’s okay. You’re right,” Hoseok smiles, and it’s genuine, but he looks exhausted, “it is late. But I don’t work tomorrow, so. No big deal.”

“Can I walk you home?”

“Meet you out front?”

“Meet you out front.”

Namjoon waits patiently on the sidewalk, hands jammed firmly in his pockets. The late evenings are getting colder and colder as the end of October approaches and it won’t be long before he has to invest in a proper coat. The door creaks open behind him, and Hoseok walks out, keys dangling from his wrist. He locks the door behind him and turns to Namjoon with a smile.

“You have keys to the church?”

“I do,” Hoseok nods, linking arms with Namjoon, “sometimes I’m the last one out. I’ve proved Father Kim can trust me. So I have a set of keys.”

“Hmm,” Namjoon hums, “that’s pretty cool.”

“Is it?”

“You’re pretty cool in general.”

“I know.” Hoseok smiles.

They stroll along the side of the building, cutting through the alley in comfortable silence. Hoseok leans in close to Namjoon, his light hoodie not doing much against the crisp air. Namjoon unlinks their arms and takes his hand, holding it tight.

“Hoseok?” Namjoon asks as they climb the stairs.

“Hmm?”

“Do you want to stay the night at my place?”

“Oh! Yeah! Let me just pop into mine and I’ll come over.”

Namjoon wants to squeal. He really, really wants to squeal. He takes a slow, deep breath and tamps it down, stopping in front of Hoseok’s door.

“Sounds good. Just let yourself in, okay?”

“Okay.” Hoseok nods, his smile small and soft.

“See you in a few?”

“Just a few.” 

Hoseok kisses Namjoon’s cheek gently and lets himself into his apartment. Namjoon shakes his limbs out; on one hand, he’s embarrassed at how giddy he gets when he’s with Hoseok, but on the other, he never wants the giddy feeling to stop.

The lights are on in his own apartment, the door is unlocked and as soon as he opens the door, he’s hit with the smell of fried chicken. Taehyung is sitting on the couch, deeply into whatever it is they have on the tv.

“Hey.” Namjoon clears his throat.

“Oh! Hey, how was work?” Taehyung asks, pausing their cartoon and turning to him.

“Let’s not.”

“Got it. Fried chicken in the kitchen.”

“Fantastic.”

“Was it that bad?”

“It was,” Namjoon pauses thoughtfully as he pulls chicken from the bucket, “yeah. It was that bad.”

“Ugh, I’m so sorry.”

“That sounded sincere.”

“It was, I just sound like that.”

“Hey,” Namjoon pops back into the living room, licking sauce from his fingers, “ is it alright if Hoseok stays the night?”

Taehyung’s eyebrows shoot up into their hairline, and then he smirks.

“Safety first.”

“Don’t tell me how to live.”

“Of course it’s okay. Thanks for asking.”

The door pops open and Hoseok sticks his head in, grinning.

“Knock knock.” He smiles.

“So asking was just a formality then.” Taehyung teases.

“I just knew you’d say yes.”

“Come in, Hobi.”

Hoseok lets himself in and slides out of his shoes, he looks like he may fall asleep right on the spot.

“You wanna go to bed, Hobi?” Namjoon laughs.

“I really do.”

“Go make yourself comfortable. I’m gonna wash up.”

“Good night, Taehyungie, I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Good night, Hobi!” Taehyung grins before turning to smirk at Namjoon over their shoulder.

“Stop it.” Namjoon blushes.

“I’m off to bed, too. Goodnight, hot lips.”

“Oh my god.”

Taehyung retreats to their room with a cackle and Namjoon feels his face go blazing hot. He washes up with cold water and gets himself together before creeping back to his own room. 

His heart does a backflip when he opens the door, Hoseok is curled up in his bed, soft and cute and God, Namjoon is really, really falling for him.

“Music?” Namjoon chokes out.

“Mmm.” Hobi nods sleepily.

Namjoon flicks on his radio, changes into his pajamas, and slides into bed beside Hoseok. Hoseok slides easily into his arms, his head on Namjoon’s chest, his arm slung over his stomach, just like the night before.

“Hoseok?” Namjoon whispers.

“Hmm?”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad I’m here.”

Hoseok looks up at Namjoon with wide eyes, Namjoon cranes his neck to give him a soft kiss on the lips. Hoseok hums happily, pressing back against him, holding him tightly. Namjoon brings his hand up to stroke Hoseok’s hair, touch his face, to get his hands on any bit of him that he possibly can.

Hoseok tugs at Namjoon’s shirt, wordlessly asking him to roll onto his side, and Namjoon complies, wrapping his arms tightly around Hoseok. Hoseok slides his own hand to rest at the back of Namjoon’s neck, breathing in deep and pulling him in tight. Namjoon’s heart races as their tongues touch, he’s kissed and been kissed before, but nothing like this. Nothing so slow and sweet and close. 

It could have been minutes, it could have been hours, the two of them pressed together, attached at the mouth, breathing each other in the dim yellow light spilling in through the window, chill R&B playing softly in the background, limbs entwined and hearts in sync. Namjoon doesn’t know how long they’ve been at it, but he knows he’d be content to spend the rest of his life just like this.

“Namjoon,” Hoseok pulls away, breathless and flushed and beautiful, “you’re really. Wow.”

Namjoon laughs, if he wasn’t already flushed from the kissing, that would have done it.

“You make me feel like. Wow.”

Hoseok tucks his head under Namjoon’s chin and nuzzles against his neck, planting a kiss on his collarbone, Namjoon runs his fingers softly through Hoseok’s hair.

“Can we do this again?” Hoseok whispers into Namjoon’s skin.

“We can do this anytime.” Namjoon whispers back with a smile.

“Mmm. Good.”

“Good night, Hobi.”

“Good night, Joonie.”

Chapter Text

It’s Halloween.

It’s Halloween, and Jimin and Taehyung are buzzing hard, giggling and bickering in their costumes as Yoongi teases Jungkook about his drink of choice while the actual adults “don’t notice” that Jungkook is having a drink. Father Kim had long since headed back to his office, both out of the necessity of staying well-rested and out of paranoia of being pranked. Hoseok leans into Namjoon’s side as they all sit in the grass behind the church, not in costume so much as still in his work uniform. He argued it was fair because Jungkook chose to dress as a priest, but Jungkook insisted that it was a costume because he’s not a priest yet. 

“I’m so glad this fell on a Friday this year.” Taehyung sighs, leaning back on their hands as Jimin climbs into their lap and lays back, his butt in Taehyung’s lap but his back in the grass. He reaches out for Yoongi’s hand and holds it tight. He looks happy. 

Namjoon looks around, they all look happy. He feels happy. He hadn’t even had anything to drink, but his brain is short-circuited and he can’t think of any synonyms for “happy”.

“This is my first real Halloween.” Jungkook knocks back the last of his drink, a sickeningly sweet smelling mix of cinnamon whiskey and cherry cola. SIckeningly sweet seems to be a food group for him.

“Really? No way,” Taehyung’s eyes go wide, they lean forward and use Jimin’s legs as a table to cross their arms on, “that’s so sad.”

“Well, I wasn’t allowed out much, so.” Jungkook shrugs and crinkles his red plastic cup.

“We’ll give you a great halloween from now on, Jungkookie.” Hoseok reaches out and pulls him in.

“What time is it?” Yoongi sighs, his speech slightly slurred, his eyes heavy. If Namjoon didn’t know better, he wouldn’t have even known that Yoongi had been drinking, he kept it under wraps far better than Taehyung and Jimin had managed to do.

“Late. Like, late late,” Jungkook sighs and stands,  “I should go home.”

“Want us to walk you?” Yoongi offers.

“Actually,” Jungkook pulls out his phone and checks the time, “can I stay with you? I don’t wanna, like. Walk home this late.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Yoongi rises from the ground and tugs on Jimin’s hand, “our place is your place.”

“I’m stuck,” Jimin whines, doing his best to slide out of Taehyung’s lap, “pull.”

Yoongi tugs and Jimin slides free, standing on unsteady feet. Yoongi laughs at him, and the three of them collect a round of hugs and make their way as quietly as possible down the alley.

“Will you walk me home?” Taehyung looks to Namjoon and Hoseok, doing their best to look put out, but mostly they look sleepy and cranky. 

“Of course.” Namjoon laughs, taking Taehyung’s hand and pulling them up.

It goes without saying now that Hoseok is staying the night; at this point, he already has a pair of pajamas and a toothbrush at the apartment. It had been like that more and more frequently, Hoseok opting to change clothes and shower in his apartment but ultimately ending up at Namjoon and Taehyung’s place for dinner or movie night or drinks or even just to curl up and sleep with Namjoon.

Namjoon was most certainly not complaining.

“I’m so tired. I should have napped before the festivities,” Taehyung yawns, leaning their head on Hoseok’s shoulder as they stroll towards their building, “but I didn’t want to sleep Halloween away.”

“Well, we’re headed home so you can sleep.” Hoseok pets Taehyung’s hair.

“For a million years.”  

It’s slow going up the staircase, they’re all exhausted and dragging their feet, but the night had been fun and Namjoon mourns a little for the past few Halloweens he hadn’t been able to participate in.

As they spill into the apartment, Taehyung slips out of their shoes and into their room with a barely audible “Iloveyougoodnightnow”, Namjoon isn’t even sure that they were still awake. 

“How tired are you?” Namjoon asks Hoseok, wrapping his arms around him.

“Pretty tired,” Hoseok sighs, wrapping his arms around Namjoon’s neck, “why? What do you have in mind?”

“I was thinking we have a few pieces of candy, put on a scary movie and cuddle on the couch?”
“Oh, I am not too tired for that.” Hoseok’s eyes brighten. 

“Okay, I’m gonna wash up really quick, you pick the candy, and I’ll pick the movie while you wash up.”

“Deal.”

Namjoon leaves Hoseok with a quick peck on the lips, and rushes through his shower routine. When he emerges, Hoseok has a variety of candies spread out on the coffee table, none of which Namjoon has any objections about. 

“Your turn.” Namjoon smiles at him, and Hoseok takes his turn in the shower as Namjoon picks a movie that he’s somewhat familiar with, pops it in, and decides to make them some tea while he waits.

When Hoseok emerges, he’s fresh and clean and wearing his pajamas along with one of Namjoon’s t-shirts, and seeing Hoseok in his own clothes makes Namjoon’s heart clench.

“Oh, tea?” Hoseok smiles as Namjoon sets the two mugs on the table.

“It seemed like a good idea.”

“You were right.” Hoseok plucks a fun-size chocolate bar from the table and settles in on the couch next to Namjoon. Namjoon picks an individually wrapped oreo cookie, puts his arm around Hoseok, and presses play on the remote.

It turns out to not matter very much what movie Namjoon had chosen, they eat and kiss and chat over most of it anyway, laughing about the children from Jimin’s sunday school class who had attended the halloween party flocking to Yoongi and Yoongi being flustered at the attention of so many children, Father Kim’s wildly successful turn at bobbing for apples, and the fact that Jungkook had never even heard of bobbing for apples and his subsequent relentless mocking of Father Kim for being as old as time.

“What is this movie about, anyway?” Hoseok asks as he leans back in between Namjoon’s legs. Namjoon repositions to lean against the arm of the couch and allow Hoseok to get more comfortable.

“You know, I don’t know,” Namjoon laughs, running his hand through Hoseok’s hair, “there’s someone in the house that isn’t supposed to be there or something?”

“Oh, I don’t like that,” Hoseok shifts position and wraps his arms around Namjoon’s leg, his head resting comfortably on Namjoon’s stomach, “I’m glad there’s only one way in and out of my apartment.”

Namjoon barely catches what Hoseok is saying, his brain hyper-focused on the light stroke of Hoseok’s fingers on his calf and- more distractingly- the warmth and pressure of Hoseok’s body on his crotch. He takes a deep, steadying breath and continues to sift his fingers through Hoseok’s hair, trying to stay as nonchalant as possible.

“I’ll protect you if someone breaks in.” 

“Really?” Hoseok lifts his chin to look up at Namjoon with a smile. 

Oh, holy fuck.

“Yeah, of course.”
“My hero,” Hoseok settles back into his former position and Namjoon slowly exhales a shaky breath, “can we go to bed? I’m about to fall asleep right here.”

“Yeah, yeah, we can do that.” Namjoon reaches for the remote and clicks off the tv. Hoseok rolls off of him and stretches, Namjoon can’t help but let his eyes wander over him and he feels his heart contract and he really needs a cold shower.

Hoseok cleans up their mugs as Namjoon collects the empty candy wrappers and they make their way to the bedroom, settling in easily under the covers and piecing together the way they’ve found works perfectly.

“Namjoon?” Hoseok whispers, his breath warm against Namjoon’s throat.

“Hmm?” Namjoon hums back, rubbing soft circles on Hoseok’s back with his fingertips.

“You’re the first real boyfriend I’ve ever had.”

Namjoon’s heart skips a beat and he feels his soul ascending.

“I’m your boyfriend?” He pulls back to look Hoseok in the eyes.

“Well, I would hope so,” Hoseok giggles, “aren’t you mine?”

Namjoon blinks, he hadn’t really thought that deeply about it, but yeah, he concludes. He’s Hoseok’s boyfriend. Hoseok is his boyfriend. They’re a couple.

“Oh, wow, yeah. I guess I am. I am your boyfriend, Hobi.”

“We’re boyfriends,” Hoseok sighs.

“We are.”

“Good,” Hoseok nuzzles into Namjoon’s neck and presses a kiss there, “I like that.”

“I like that, too.” Namjoon holds him close and smiles until his cheeks hurt.

----------------------------------

“He said boyfriends?” Taehyung whispers, leaning into Namjoon.

“Yeah, he said boyfriends. We’re boyfriends.”

“Oh my gosh, wow.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey,” Father Kim interrupts from the other side of Taehyung, “are we taking voter registrations or are we gossiping?”

“Both. We can do both.” Taehyung asserts, motioning for the next person in line to step up.

There’s a long line drawn out in front of them and only an hour left until the cutoff. They have a lot to get through, but with as many volunteers as there were, the three of them included, they’d be through the line in no time.

When the last of the people present have registered, and Father Kim is taking the box to the courthouse, Taehyung and Namjoon finally start the process of putting away the rolls upon rolls of stickers, bags of lollipops, pens, translation books and of course the tables.

“I’m so happy for you, Namjoon,” Taehyung stacks the last of the chairs in the corner and leans their head against them, “also I’m so dead.”

“It’s been a long day.”

Taehyung lets out a sigh, which eventually transforms into a yawn, in response.

“I’m surprised Yoongi wasn’t here, considering he organized it.” Namjoon flicks the light off as they wander out of the room, closing the door behind them.

“Yoongi doesn’t really do crowds. He’ll plan and organize all day long but he won’t be there.”

“Hmm, interesting.” Namjoon nods.

“You’re really settling into this counselor role.” Taehyung teases.

“It feels right,” Namjoon ignores the blatant mockery, “I really like it.”

“You’re good at it.”

“You haven’t even been in a session.”
“Jungkookie told me.” 

“You’re gossiping about me?”
“Constantly.”

Namjoon laughs as the two of them make their way across the church’s back lawn, the sun is starting to set earlier and earlier and the chill is definitely approaching. Taehyung picks up the pace, three or four long strides ahead of Namjoon, but Namjoon can’t really be bothered to keep up.

Namjoon manages to beat Taehyung into the shower despite Taehyung making it to the apartment a full two minutes before him, and he hears Taehyung curse him loudly through the door.

“Damn it, Joon!”

“Snooze and lose, Taehyung!” Namjoon laughs. 

“Well hurry up, your boyfriend is here!”

Namjoon hastily rinses the conditioner from his hair, he barely bothers drying off before hustling from the bathroom, Taehyung bolting in and locking the door behind him before Namjoon even has a chance to notice they’ve zoomed by.

Namjoon glances at the clock, it’s early for Hoseok to be home on a Saturday. He’s sitting on the couch, head resting on the back.

“Hey.” Namjon grins, rounding the couch and sitting next to him.

“Hey.” Hoseok smiles, small and exhausted-looking.

“Are you alright? It’s early.”

“Jackson sent me home. I’m tired. So tired.” Hoseok rubs at his neck, rolling his shoulders. Namjoon reaches out and touches his forehead; he doesn’t feel hot but he looks drained to the core.

“Do you want to go to bed?”
“God, yes.”

Hoseok drags his feet as he shuffles to Namjoon’s bedroom, dropping his pants and flopping right into bed. He doesn’t even bother to turn the sheets down. 

“Hey,” Namjoon laughs, “let’s get under here.”

“Mmmf.” Hoseok lifts his body, and with some struggle, Namjoon is able to get the blankets down and slide in beside him. 

They start off as big spoon and little spoon this time, a sure sign that Hoseok is wiped out and not long for the waking world.

“How did the voter drive go?” Hoseok mumbles, and Namjoon isn’t entirely sure he’s still awake.

“It was good. We got a lot of people in.” Namjoon wraps his arm around Hoseok’s stomach and pulls him close. 

It’s silent for a moment.

“Mm, good.” Hoseok finally whispers.

“I’m surprised we didn’t see you there, to visit at least.”

Silence again.

“Can’t vote.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

A longer silence.

“I’m a felon.”

“You what?”

Chapter Text

Hoseok sighs, rolls over, and sits up. Namjoon sits up next to him, doing his best to dampen the mild panic rising in his chest. 

“I’m a felon.”

“I’m gonna need you to explain.” 

Hoseok rubs his face and sighs again, deep and shaky. 

“When I first got to the city, I had enough money saved up to put myself up in a motel. I thought I’d stay there until I found a job, but finding a job didn’t happen as quickly as I thought.”

“Okay.” 

“So I didn’t have a choice, I was out on the street. I had never been on my own before, let alone on my own without shelter, so when it started to get cold out, I panicked.”

“Alright, I think I see where this is going.”

“You probably do. When the first frost came, I got really scared, I didn’t want to freeze to death. So I came across what I thought was an abandoned building, and I got into it, and I stayed there.”

“Of course.”

“But it turns out, it wasn’t abandoned, it was owned by some local real estate agency or something, and when I was sleeping one morning, they came across me in there. And they called the police.”

“They didn’t just ask you to leave?”

“Nope. They called the cops. And it turns out, the door that I pried open? An antique. A $700 door. So.”

“Felony destruction of property.” Namjoon nods. 

“Yep, exactly.”

“So you did jail time?”

“A couple of months, yeah. I was released on good behavior and because of the overcrowding. My crime was petty in comparison, even though it was a felony on paper, it was my first offense of any kind and of course, most importantly to them, my sister paid my court fees and everything associated with the whole thing. They had her money and I was back out on the street.”

“Ridiculous, you could have just paid the debt to the owner.”

“I agree. But I did what I did.”

“But—“

“So now I’m a felon. And I can’t vote. And I can’t do a lot of things. And when I was released, I was too afraid to try to stay inside anywhere else, and so I stayed on the street. Then I wound up at the hospital. And then I met Father Kim, who introduced me to Jackson, who hired me, and here we are now. But regardless, I’m a felon and I have a record.”

Namjoon stares at Hoseok, his heart is breaking for him. 

“You could have told me.” Namjoon reaches out and takes his hand. 

“I was scared.”

“Of what?”

“What you would think.”

“Hoseok,” Namjoon reaches out and wipes away a tear that rolls down Hoseok’s flushed cheek, “you didn’t do anything wrong. You were surviving. You not having shelter and being punished for trying to protect yourself is a failure of the system. Not you.”

“You think so?” Hoseok sniffles. 

“I know so. Hobi, baby, you did what anyone would do. I don’t blame you and you have nothing to be ashamed of and if that makes you a felon then most everyone I met on the street is a felon.” 

Hoseok laughs and wipes his tears away, then takes Namjoon’s hands in his. 

“You’re good to me, Namjoon.”

Namjoon stares at him, and suddenly he’s hit by a lightning bolt of emotion. 

“Hoseok,” Namjoon breathes deeply, “I love you.”

Hoseok’s eyes widen and he gasps, a smile nearly splitting his face in two. 

“Oh my god, I love you, too.” Hoseok grins, climbing into Namjoon’s lap and wrapping his arms around him. Namjoon holds him close, breathing him in, soaking up the moment. 

“I love you, Hoseok.” Namjoon sighs, nuzzling his face into the crook of Hoseok’s neck and pressing a kiss there. 

“I love you,” Hoseok sniffles, “I love you.”

“I’m so fucking happy.” Namjoon pulls away, cupping Hoseok’s face in his hands and pressing a kiss on his lips. Hoseok’s face is wet with tears but his smile is huge. Namjoon can feel his own face mirroring the smile. Hoseok rests his forehead against Namjoon’s, stroking his hair. 

“I’m so fucking exhausted.”

“Me, too.” Namjoon laughs, nodding. 

“Can we go to sleep now?”

“Are you going to drop another bombshell on me?”

“No, no, not at all.” Hoseok laughs. 

“Okay, then.”

Hoseok presses another kiss to Namjoon’s forehead and climbs off his lap, letting his body flop back onto the mattress. 

“You’re beautiful.” Namjoon smiles down at him. 

“Stop.” Hoseok grins and pulls Namjoon down by his sleeve. Namjoon snuggles up to him and holds him close. 

“Say it one more time.” Hoseok sighs. 

“I love you.”

“I love that. I love you.”

“Good night, Hobi.”

“Good night, Joonie.”

-----------------------------------------

“Love?!” Jimin exclaims, eyes wide.

“Yeah,” Namjoon grins, nodding, “love. We said love.”

“Wow, first boyfriends and then love in the same two days.”

Sunday school was long over, Yoongi was off reviewing the upcoming holiday plans with Father Kim and Jungkook. Hoseok had gone in for a few hours to cover someone else’s shift and Taehyung was out running errands, leaving Jimin and Namjoon to their own devices.

“Hey,” Namjoon fiddles with the tag on his teabag, “do you know much about Hoseok from before he showed up here?”

Jimin pauses to think, then nods definitively.

“Yes, I know a bunch about him.”

“Oh?”

“Aren’t these questions you should ask before you tell someone you love them?”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Namjoon laughs and nods.

“How do you mean, though? Like, what do you want to know?”

“Do you know anything about where he was before this?”

“Upstate. In the country.”

“Right, that’s where he’s from, but...right before this.”

“Ohhh, the hospital.”

“Okay, that too, but before that.”

“Ah,” Jimin nods knowingly, “so he told you.”

“So you knew.”

“Yes. But that’s not my business to tell.”

“Fair.”

“Also,” Jimin smirks and finishes his coffee, “I didn’t want to tell you because then you’d get all sweaty and weird about it.”

“Sweaty and weird?!” Namjoon scoffs. 

“It’s okay. I get sweaty about stuff, too. I just don’t get as weird about it as you.”

“Jimin, I can’t tell if you’re the best or the worst.”

“Hmm,” Jimin pretends to think, “both. It’s both. I’m both. I’m known for being indecisive. Also it’s a bisexual joke.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Namjoon laughs, “but I guess you’re right. It wasn’t your place to tell. And I did get kinda sweaty about it. But not weird. Definitely not weird this time.”

“Anyway. I guess you two still have some getting to know each other to do,” Jimin laughs, “but love doesn’t wait.”

“I have a lot of getting to know all of you left to do.”

“In time. Most of us have a lot going on. A lot to get through. Things will come out as time goes on. Some of us have walls up but they’ll come down the longer you’re around.”

“Are you one of the ones with walls?”

Jimin pauses and stares at his coffee cup for a moment, his mouth in a tight line.

“Hmm,” he looks back up and hums with a smile, “nope.”

“Good to know.”

“If you really really want to know something, though, the one most likely to accidentally spill something is Jungkook. He’s a pretty good secret keeper, most of the time, but he sometimes gets ahead of himself and forgets he’s not supposed to say things.”

“Also good to know.”

“I have information.” Jimin winks.

--------------

“Oh, Namjoon!” Father Kim calls as Namjoon passes by his office door.

“Yes, Father?” Namjoon backs up and pokes his head in.

“Come here, I have something for you.” Father Kim pulls open his drawer and pulls out an envelope, sliding it across the desk as Namjoon takes a seat in one of the armchairs.

“What is it?”

“Your salary.”

“Oh! Right! I get paid now!”

“You do,” Father Kim laughs, “Usually on every other Friday, but I was a bit late this week .So are you going to take it? Or?”

“Oh, oh, yeah,” Namjoon laughs, “yeah, I guess I’ll take it.”

“Good. Take it and get out of here.” Father Kim waves him away with a smile.

“Got it. Thank you!” Namjoon snatches the envelope and rushes for the door.

He rips open the envelope with glee, and is astonished at the amount. Logically, he knows it’s not a lot in the grand scheme of things, especially not in the city they live in, but it’s the most he’s ever held in his hands and he doesn’t even know what to do with himself.

“Um, Father?” Namjoon pokes his head back in the door.

“Yes?” Father Kim responds, not looking away from his screen.

“Are you sure this is correct?”

“Why?” Father Kim removes his glasses and focuses his attention on Namjoon, “Is it short?”

“Short?! No,” Namjoon laughs, “I think it’s high.”

“Come in here, close the door. I looked over it but we can look together.”

Namjoon takes a seat across from him again, handing the check over.

“No, this is right.”

“You’re positive?”

“Yes. $41,360, divided by 12, divided by two, minus taxes, insurance is paid by the church. So yes. $1,463.50 every two weeks, approximately, Give or take a few cents here and there.” Father Kim nods definitively.

Namjoon’s stunned.

“And I can still live here?”
“What? Yes. Of course you can still live here.” Father Kim scoffs.

“Even though it’s this much?”

“Namjoon,” Father Kim sighs, “I know you are very, very smart. You have to know that this isn’t a lot. I know you didn’t have a job or a home before, but you have to realize how underpaid you actually are.”

Namjoon blinks, then nods.

“Yeah,” He nods again, “you’re right. I just...do you want me to pay for my apartment?”

“Get out of here before I throw you out.”

Chapter Text

“Oh my god, ” Yoongi sighs, flopping down heavily into a chair, “it’s over.”

“You did a good job,” Jimin stands behind Yoongi and rubs his shoulders, “that was a lot but you did really well.”

“Ugh, god, yes,” Yoongi automatically melts into the shoulder rub, “you did, too.”

“We all did.” Jimin affirms, kissing the top of Yoongi’s head.

“Can we eat now, though? Because I’m starving.” Taehyung rubs their face, rolling their shoulders.

It had been a very long day, serving and cooking and clearing and cooking some more and serving some more and it was officially no longer Thanksgiving, meaning they were free to help themselves to whatever was left in the kitchen.

“You’re so smart. Let’s eat now.’ Jungkook mumbles, his words muffled as he rests his head on his arms on the table in front of him.

“Can we take plates to go? I’d like to go to bed now.” Jimin wraps his arms around Yoongi’s shoulders and rests his chin on the top of Yoongi’s head.

“I’ll make our plates,” Yoongi rises from his chair, “can you grab our jackets?”

“Mm, got it.” Jimin gives a small smile and kisses Yoongi’s cheek, squeezing his hand before Yoongi disappears into the hallway and Jimin heads to the coat closet.

“Your first Thanksgiving is done.” Hoseok smiles at Namjoon, Namjoon sighs, exhausted, but he feels fulfilled and like he had done something worthwhile that day, like he had made a difference.

“If this was Thanksgiving, I don’t know if I want to be here at Christmas.” Namjoon laughs, running his hand through his hair. 

“Oh, no, Christmas here is wonderful!” Hoseok’s eyes go wide, “I was pretty new last Christmas, but it was a beautiful service and Jimin’s class did the decorations and it was so nice.”

“I’m not big on holidays.” Namjoon shrugs. Hoseok pouts at him, but then smiles brightly.

“I’ll make sure you have a nice Christmas. Like Jungkookie on Halloween.” Hoseok nods definitively, and Namjoon can’t help but think that maybe this year, he really will enjoy Christmas.

Jimin returns to their table, coats slung over one arm, a cup of coffee clutched in his other hand, and plants a kiss on Hoseok’s head.

“Aw, where did you get coffee?” Namjoon pouts at Jimin.

“Oh, you smell real good.” Jimin leans in and sniffs Hoseok’s hair again. 

“Warm vanilla cider. My sister sent it.” Hoseok sits a little straighter and grins.

“Wear it always.”

“Done.”

“I got the coffee from Father Kim. It’s all mine.” Jimin finally answers Namjoon, shaking the pink to-go cup in Namjoon’s direction.

“It smells good.” Hoseok cranes his neck back, Jimin tilts the cup for him to smell.

“No sharing?” Namjoon pouts.

“Nope, no sharing.”

“By, the way, Jimin, can I ask--” Namjoon begins, Jimin holds a hand up to him, swallows a gulp of coffee and shakes his head.

“Nope, you absolutely can’t.”

“Okay, loud and clear.”

“We’re gonna go,” Jimin wraps Hoseok in a hug from behind, “but we’ll see you Saturday.”

“Love you, Jiminie.” Hoseok wraps his arms around Jimin’s and squeezes.

“Love you,” Jimin kisses the top of Hoseok’s head, “love you, Joon.”

“Oh. Um. Love you too.” Namjoon stumbles, wide-eyed.

“Wow. Sincere.” Jimin teases.

“It was! Love you too!” 

“Good night, friends. Sleep well.” Jimin leaves the room with a wave, Namjoon turns to Hoseok and pouts.

“He told me a few weeks ago that I get sweaty and weird about things. I was offended, but now I think he’s right.” 

Hoseok laughs and rises from his chair, reaching for Namjoon’s hand.

“I don’t think you’re weird,” Hoseok pulls him up, “but after today you’re probably a little sweaty.”

“I am.” Namjoon pats his chest, the sweater he had borrowed from Taehyung still damp from the day’s activity.

“Wanna go home and shower?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“Let’s go.”

They make the rounds and say good-bye, interrupting a heated debate between Taehyung about which pie is better, pecan or pumpkin, and Hoseok settles it with the definitive vote of pumpkin. Taehyung pouts, not one to accept being on the losing team, and tells them they all have poor taste and are no longer welcome in their home.

“Fine,” Hoseok teases Taehyung, “we’ll go to mine.”

“Good, get out of here and be gross somewhere else.” Taehyung teases back.

“Alright, we will!” Namjoon fires back, and Jungkook grins, obviously pleased to see Namjoon finally taking place in the teasing.

“Good night, then!” Taehyung yells at him.

“Good night!” Namjoon yells back, pulling Hoseok toward the back door with a laugh.

“Good night!”Jungkook calls after them with a mouthful of pie.

Hoseok excitedly pulls Namjoon towards his apartment, a spring in his step and Namjoon grips his hand tightly and Hoseok’s excitement is contagious and soon they’re giggling and spilling into Hoseok’s front door together, lips smashed against each other, limbs clumsy and flailing. 

“Go wash up. Take a long, hot shower. Relax.” Hoseok laughs breathlessly, pushing Namjoon away from him.

“You’re so beautiful.” Namjoon sighs, grinning at Hoseok, pulling him in for one last kiss before he slips into the bathroom.

The water feels amazing on his muscles, he’s more tired than he had realized, it’s late and the day was long and hectic. He’s lost in his own world, humming to himself, the water beating down on his shoulders as he leans against the shower wall, hands holding him upright. He’s exhausted, but he’s happy.

There are hands on his shoulders, a kiss on his shoulder blade, a chest pressed against his back, arms wrapped around him from behind. He’s so, so happy. He turns in Hoseok’s arms, he can’t believe this is his reality, looking down at Hoseok as the water runs over them and Hoseok smiles up at him, his eyes glistening in the low light of the bathroom. Namjoon is stunned by Hoseok, his small frame is so much stronger than his clothes ever let Namjoon see, and suddenly it hits Namjoon that this is the first time they’ve been fully unclothed in front of each other. His heart skips a beat, and he’d be nervous, if not for the unflinching confidence radiating from Hoseok soothing him, making him comfortable, putting him at ease.

“Did I scare you?” Hoseok smiles.

“Startled, maybe. But how could I complain?” Namjoon raises a hand to Hoseok’s face and strokes his cheek gently. Hoseok closes his eyes and hums happily, leaning into the touch. Namjoon could stare at him forever, warm and content and close as the steam rises around them. He leans in and kisses him gently, Hoseok’s arms find their way around Namjoon’s neck. They’re as close as they possibly could be, skin on skin, lips on lips, limbs wrapped around each other as they kiss lazily under the warm streams of water, comfortable and familiar and so, so right.

The water starts to run cold, and with a pout, Namjoon detaches himself from Hoseok and turns the faucet off as Hoseok steps out. He hands over a towel and they dry off side-by-side, glancing sideways at each other and giggling. They brush their teeth together, dress together, sip tea together. Everything is wonderful. 

They climb into bed, Hoseok wrapped around Namjoon, close and comfortable and god, Namjoon thinks that this must be what love songs are all about. This is what poets wrote about, what people daydream about. 

“Hoseok?” He whispers. 

“Hmm?” Hoseok mumbles, just on the edge of sleep. 

“You’re so perfect to me.”

Hoseok’s eyes crack open, he smiles sleepily at Namjoon. 

“Not perfect,” he lightly slaps Namjoon’s chest, “just in love with you.”

“Perfect to me. Perfect for me.”

“Perfect for me, too.” Hoseok holds him close. 

Namjoon can’t think of any place he’d rather be, anything he’d rather be doing, and he silently thanks the full spectrum of deities and non-deities for the day he threw caution to the wind and trusted Hoseok.

Chapter Text

“It’s so fucking cold.” Taehyung jams their hands deeper into their pockets, scooting closer to Namjoon to try to absorb some of his warmth.

“Hey, come back,” Jimin pouts, scooting closer to Taehyung with the same end game, “I’m freezing.”

“You’re always cold, shouldn’t you be used to it by now?” Jungkook teases in spite of the fact that his teeth are also chattering. Jimin kicks him playfully in the butt, wrapping his arms around himself.

“I’m walking down to the coffee shop on the corner,” Jimin looks to Yoongi, “you want?”

“Of course I do. Here,” Yoongi hands his wallet over, “get whatever you want. And whatever they want.”

“You’re the best,” Jimin kisses Yoongi’s cheek, “text me orders.”

“I can do that!” Namjoon whips his new phone out, he’s delighted to have one, he didn’t ever think of them as a necessity before, but he sees now how wrong he had been.

Hoseok had texted him, which was a thing that he really, really liked to be able to say. He had taken Jimin’s suggestion and taken Hoseok to get phones on the same day that Father Kim had helped him set up his bank account. Things were starting to come together for him. He wasn’t sure exactly why a cell phone sealed the deal on that, but somehow, it did.

Hey Joonie!

I hope your volunteer work is going well!

Stay warm please

Namjoon grins at his screen.

It’s going pretty well, we’ve given out 14 coats so far

Father Kim said we can come in for dinner in an hour

Will you be off on time tonight?

“You guys are getting really serious, huh?” Jungkook wipes a rogue snowflake off of his scarf, then breathes into his gloved hands for warmth.

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess we are.” Namjoon grins.

“You make him really happy, Namjoon.” Yoongi closes the lid on a box of coats to protect it from the now-falling snow.

“He said that?”

“He didn’t have to,” Yoongi lifts the box, “but he did. Jungkook, can you grab one of the other boxes?”

“Got it.” Jungkook stacks two and lifts them, following Yoongi toward the church.

“You don’t have to flex about it, you know.” Yoongi teases.

“Why not? Have you seen my muscles? I could bench you and Jimin, simultaneously.” 

Their conversation fades into the distance as Taehyung and Namjoon start to pack up the tables, eventually assisting Jimin in shuffling across the slippery sidewalk with carriers full of coffee. The snow begins to fall steadily, it is mid-December, after all, or as Jimin called it, the Month of Kim, with both Father Kim and Taehyung’s birthdays falling in the month. 

I will, but it’ll take me awhile in the snow T T

I don’t want you walking in it, you’ll get sick

Maybe Jackson can bring me home 

but I don’t want to inconvenience

Please ask him, for your safety 

and for me

Safety first and safety second

“That’s crooked.” Yoongi eyes the wreath on the wall above Jimin’s Sunday school art board as they stack coat boxes in the all-purpose room. 

“It’s all crooked, babe, it’s made by toddlers.” Jimin laughs.

“Fair,” Yoongi nods, “but can we fix it?”

“No, we cannot fix it. It’s their art. It’s got character.”

“Fine. It’s gonna drive me nuts, though.”

“Art is subjective and cannot be defined.” Taehyung interjects, fingers wrapped tightly around their latte.

“Yeah, Yoongi,” Jimin teases, “art is subjective and cannot be defined. And that’s that on that.”

“Yoongi, you can quit staring at frustrating toddler art and help me put these away.” Jungkook pats the top of one of the coat boxes.

“If you carry them to the donation closet I will.”

“Done.” Jungkook lifts the boxes in one stack with a grin, Yoongi rolls his eyes but smiles, following him into the storage room, Taehyung close behind them. 

“Are you gonna help or are you gonna stare at your phone all day?” Jimin teases, nudging Namjoon with his foot.

“Huh? Oh, sorry,” Namjoon laughs, sliding his phone into his pocket, “I was texting Hobi.”

“Yeah, obviously. Can you help me wipe up the snow mess?” Jimin hands Namjoon a rag and points to the trail of water left behind them.

“I guess so.” Namjoon huffs, taking the rag from him. Jimin smiles broadly and pats his shoulder.

“Thank you.” He smiles, and Namjoon really can’t ever stay irritated with him.

He’s gained an affection for all of them, and he really, truly feels at home among them now. 

“Are you doing anything for Christmas?” Namjoon asks as he wipes up water, the wooden floor is brutal on his knees and he wonders how Jimin is unphased, or how anyone kneels on it to pray, ever.

“We haven’t really--what are you doing? Dab it, don’t wipe it, you’re just spreading it--we really don’t have plans yet.”

“Dab it like this?”
“Yes.”

“Okay. What do you usually do for Christmas?”

“Well, we usually help with Christmas services and then spend time with Tae and Father Kim and their family. We’ve spent the last few Christmases with them. It’s really nice to have a family atmosphere, and they’re our family.”

“Can I pry and ask why?” Namjoon peeks up at Jimin as he wipes up the last of the water. Jimin sighs and sits back on his heels, mouth drawn in a tight line.

“Yoongi isn’t close with his family, really. The family he is close with is pretty far away, like I told you about Thanksgiving. We just don’t make it out there often. And my family...that’s...that’s a non-option.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I ask?”

“It’s fine, I guess. I’m just not close with anyone, really, and I’m not entirely welcome, I guess you could say.”

“I don’t want to assume, but--”
“I know what you’re assuming and the answer is yes, it’s almost entirely my sexuality. My sexuality, and my boyfriend.”

“Yoongi?” Namjoon cocks his head to the side, confused.

“No, my other boyfriend.” Jimin rolls his eyes.

“Taehyung?” Namjoon teases. Jimin scoffs, stands, and throws his damp rag at Namjoon.

“No, because that would imply that Taehyung is a boy and they are not, and yes, of course I meant Yoongi.”

Namjoon wipes the water from Jimin’s rag off his face with the sleeve of his sweater and stands as well, following Jimin to the kitchen.

“What about Yoongi?”

“They’re not exactly the most fond of him.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. They have bad opinions, if you ask me.”

“How could you not like Yoongi, though? How could they have an issue with him? You’re good together.”
“I know, I know,” Jimin sighs, wringing his rag out in the sink, “but they don’t see it that way.”

“People don’t see what they don’t want to see.” Namjoon wrings his rag out as well.

“True enough. They just don’t know him like I do, you know? And they didn’t ever really give him a fighting chance,” Jimin tosses his rag into the dirties bucket below the sink, “they had all these preconceived notions of him, of me, and there was no changing anything. It was a losing battle.”

“Preconceived notions?” Namjoon lathers his hands as Jimin disposes of his rag as well, sighing heavily.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, but I’m a pretty soft and sensitive person.” Jimin lathers his hands, too, waiting patiently as Namjoon rinses the soap from his own hands.

“I may have noticed that, yes.”

“Okay, well, in my family, that means you’re a doormat. That you’re weak,” Jimin rinses his hands, “and that you’re easily manipulated.”

“That’s not what that means, but okay.”

“No, no, I know, believe me. And like, yeah, sure I am a bit naive, and I am very easily hurt, and I do trust too much and too easily, but all of that isn’t, you know, a weakness? Right?”

“No, not inherently.” Namjoon dries his hands.

“Well, in my family, it is. So already I was at a disadvantage. And then there’s Yoongi. Yoongi is blunt and strong and honest and straightforward in a way that I could never really be. Like, I can be brutal if I want, I can absolutely destroy you with words if I please. I’ll shit in your soul if you cross me, Namjoon.”

“Oh, okay, noted.”

“So, yes. I can be a bitch. But for some reason  I’m not perceived as such. Yoongi always, always is, and that’s not fair. He’s not like that. He’s not cold or hard or brutal. He’s kind and thoughtful and generous. He’s soft and sweet too, just, you know, after you’ve earned it, which is fair.”

“Completely.”

“See?! You get it!” Jimin throws his hands in the air in exasperation. 

“I do.” Namjoon laughs. 

“Anyway,” Jimin huffs, “they are convinced that he’s domineering and controlling and that I make no decisions and have no say in anything which is, like, the complete opposite of truth. It doesn’t exist in the same universe as the truth. We’re a partnership and we always have been. But they don’t see that and refuse to hear it.”

“That must be really frustrating.”

“It totally is!” Jimin rubs his face, “And it’s a double whammy because, like, okay, you think the love of my life is a controlling fuckwad, having no clue about the actually abusive fuckwads I’ve been with—“

“Wait, wait. Elaborate please.” Namjoon interrupts. 

“A story for another time, Joonie,” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee, “but they think all of these horrible things about my forever person without giving him so much as a chance, and for no reason at all. He’s given them nothing to believe this. And then, on top of it, they think I’m too stupid and weak to understand that I’m being manipulated and abused. Which, like, I’m not. I’m not stupid and weak and he’s not abusive or manipulative. We’re in love and that’s that. And so I chose him. I chose him over them and I feel no regrets about it.”

“You shouldn’t. I wouldn’t either.”

“I don’t. I made the right choice. My choice. I chose him. I’ll always choose him. ”

Namjoon stares at him for a long moment, taking in the heat in the air. 

“You really, really love him.”

“With my whole entire heart, Namjoon. Obviously, I’m marrying him.” Jimin laughs. 

“Okay, okay, good point.” Namjoon laughs along, nodding. 

“But I’d choose any of you over my family, for sure. I’d choose Tae and Hoseok and Father Kim and Jungkookie and you before anyone else in the world. Everyone but Yoongi. Yoongi is the most wonderful, most beautiful person. I’m in awe of him everyday, every time I look at him, I feel it in my heart, in my stomach. I love him so much, I’d sacrifice everything for him. He’d never ever ask me to. But I would.” 

“That’s beautiful, Jimin.”

“Hmm,” Jimin nods, “yeah. It is. It feels beautiful.”

Namjoon hopes he can feel the same level of beauty with Hoseok one day, in time. 

“I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you. But I got sidetracked. All of that exists, so that’s why we have Christmas with the Kims.”

“Got it.”

“Honestly,” Jimin smiles, small but sincere, “we’d have been lost if not for the Kims. If not for Mama and Papa Kim, for Taehyung and Father Kim, I don’t know what Yoongi and I would have done. I don’t know if we’d both be here alive, if we’re being completely truthful.”

“That seems to be a theme with the Kim family.”

“It really is. They’re the best, Namjoon,” Jimin nods, “thank you for listening to me. I hope you’ll tell me more about you one day.”

“Me? Oh. Hmm.  Maybe.”

“I’ll take ‘maybe’ for an answer for now.” Jimin laughs.

-------

It’s late, Namjoon and Jungkook are hanging around the kitchen as Yoongi and Jimin bake little cakes for Taehyung and Father Kim’s respective birthdays.

“Pineapple upside down cake is the best cake.” Jungkook asserts, licking icing off of his finger.

“No? It’s German Chocolate.” Yoongi sets the oven to preheat.

“Okay, you’re both wrong, it’s carrot cake.” Jimin scoffs, pouring batter into a mold.

“It’s definitely German Chocolate.” Namjoon agrees. The back door creaks open and Hoseok enters, shaking snow out of his hair, sniffing the air.

“We’re baking?” He grins, sliding out of his shoes.

“We are,” Jungkook grins, taking another scoop of icing on his finger, “and arguing about best cakes.”

“Red velvet.” Hoseok asserts, approaching the counter.

“That’s nonsense,” Namjoon shakes his head, leaning in and pecking Hoseok on the lips, “it’s German Chocolate.”

“Yes.” Yoongi agrees, sliding his cake into the oven.

“Carrot.” Jimin asserts, sliding his in as well.

“Strong opinions on cakes in here.” Hoseok laughs.

“Strong opinions on everything, and it’s pineapple upside down cake.” Jungkook washes his hands.

“But what we’re making is angel food cake for Tae, because they have good taste, and strawberry for Father Kim, who also has good taste.”
“There’s no such thing as a bad cake, just better cakes.” Hoseok nods.

“Wise.” Jungkook agrees.

“So we’ll be here a while.” Yoongi sets the kitchen timer and pours a cup of coffee.

“I don’t know that I’ll make it a while, I’m beat.” Hoseok rolls his shoulders. He does look significantly more tired and less energetic than usual, Namjoon notes. East coast winters can really drain a person.

“Why don’t you go home and take a hot shower? I’ll be there soon. Taehyung is there already, they made dinner.” Namjoon brushes Hoseok’s bangs off of his forehead.

“Hmm, yeah. Sounds good,” Hoseok nods, his voice soft and sleepy. Namjoon melts a little, “I love you guys.”

“We love you!” Jimin chirps, blowing air kisses, and Hoseok blows them back as he shuffles backward towards the door and steps into his shoes, resulting in air kisses flying to and from everyone. Hoseok exits the door with a giggle and all eyes are on Namjoon.

“You’re so stupid in love.” Jungkook grins.

“God, yeah, I fuckin am.” Namjoon laughs.

--------

Namjoon lets himself into the apartment after helping Yoongi and Jimin clean up most of the mess they’d made and helping Jungkook lock things up. The smell of pesto and fresh bread fills the apartment and Namjoon’s stomach growls. 

“Ah, that smells good.” He groans, sliding out of his shoes.

“It was,” Taehyung mumbles from the couch, “I am entirely pasta now. I am a shell of a person filled with pasta, like a pasta scarecrow.”

“I couldn’t eat more if I tried.” Hoseok sighs from his spot, spread out next to Taehyung on the couch.

“I’m gonna eat some, and wash up, don’t pass out on me out here.” Namjoon laughs, making his way to the kitchen.

“No promises.” Taehyung nods.

Namjoon eats the pasta and washes up at lightning speed, Hoseok was exhausted and Namjoon didn't want to keep him waiting. For anything. Ever.

When he’s finally clean and warm, Namjoon approaches the couch, leaning over the back to peek at his sleepy friends.

“Hey, friends,” Namjoon jostles them, “time for bed?”

“God yes.” Taehyung rolls off of the couch and trudges toward their bedroom.

“Thank you for dinner!” Hoseok calls after them.

“You’rewelcomeIloveyougoodnight!” Taehyung mumbles groggily before their door clicks shut.

“Bed time?” Namjoon turns to Hoseok.

“Night-night now.” Hoseok smiles. 

“Then come on.” Namjoon laughs and extends his hand, Hoseok takes it and climbs over the back of the couch. 

“Was that really the best way to do that?” Namjoon laughs. 

“I’m an innovator.” Hoseok smiles, letting Namjoon pull him to the bedroom. He collapses onto the bed and wiggles under the covers in a way that’s isn’t entirely unlike an inchworm. Namjoon climbs in beside him and wraps an arm around him, kissing his forehead. 

“Did you have a good day?” Namjoon asks, stroking Hoseok’s back gently. He feels tense, his shoulders in knots. He rubs at the tension there, doing his best to gingerly work some of the muscle into relaxing. 

“It felt long. I’m so tired, Namjoon.” Hoseok melts into Namjoon’s half-massage. 

“Why don’t you call out tomorrow and rest, babe? You never take a break.”

“I can’t, because—oh! I almost forgot!” Hoseok sits bolt upright. 

“What? What is it?” Namjoon sits up with him, eyes wide. 

“So the week of Christmas, Jackson is shutting down so he can go home for Christmas. Which means I’m also off for Christmas. So I was thinking, and no pressure, you don’t have to at all and there will be no hard feelings about it because it’s in like a week and I’m asking you now but like...would you want to meet my sister? She’s coming to stay for Christmas and she’s really important to me, like the most important person, besides you, she’s my whole family pretty much and it would really mean a lot if you met her because she really wants to meet you,” Hoseok finally stops to take a breath, “so. Will you meet my sister?”

“Oh my god, yes, that would be an honor. I’d love to meet her.”

“Ah! That’s so exciting! I’ll text her first thing in the morning.” Hoseok grins and flops back onto the pillows. Namjoon smiles and lays down next to him again, draping an arm over Hoseok’s stomach. 

“I’m glad you want me to meet her. I feel special.”

“You are special. She’s special. I want you to meet. I can’t wait.” Hoseok snuggles in closer. 

“One thing you have to promise me, though.” 

“Oh? What’s that?”

“You have to stop dropping things on me when we’re going to sleep.” Namjoon laughs. Hoseok laughs and buries his face into Namjoon’s shoulder. 

“Okay, okay. Deal.”

Chapter Text

The day has arrived and Namjoon doesn’t think he’s ever been more nervous about anything, ever. And he knows, he’s thought that a million times in the last 5 months, but he’s sure that this time it’s true. He watches out of the back window as lights and buildings pass him by, wanting to participate in Jimin and Yoongi’s front seat conversation but his mouth is dry and he feels vaguely like he might vomit.

“It’s the which one?” Jimin turns down the radio and peeks over at Yoongi’s phone, trying to see the upcoming directions.

“It’s the one where we spent our anniversary 2 years ago, babe.”

“Oh, oh! Wow, Dawon really knows how to do it.”

Something about that strikes a chord with Namjoon, and he snaps into the conversation.

“Why do you say that?” He slides to the center of the backseat, leaning forward to get in the conversation.

“Are you not wearing your seatbelt?!” Jimin chides, glancing at Namjoon over his shoulder.

“We’re going two miles per hour, Jimin.”
“You need to put your seatbelt on.” Yoongi scolds.

“I’m not getting a ticket because of you and you’re not going through our windshield.” 

“At two miles per hour?”

“Just put it on!” Yoongi and Jimin scold in unison.

Namjoon sighs and obliges, still leaning forward to get a word in.

“Okay, okay, I’m buckled,” Namjoon gestures to his lap, although neither Jimin or Yoongi look back at him, “now, why did you say that about the hotel?”

“Oh,” Jimin glances back at him, “it’s a very, very nice hotel. It’s in midtown and even the lowest levels have a decent view, considering.”

“So it’s fancy?”

“A bit, yeah.”

“It’s zen. Kinda hipster-y. A little snobby.” Yoongi smirks over at Jimin.

“I didn’t hear you complaining when we stayed.” 

“Of course not, I’m a little snobby.” 

“So should I be nervous?” Namjoon asks.

“If I tell you no, are you going to be any less nervous?” Jimin looks at him in the rearview mirror.

“Um. No. Not at all, I don’t think.”

“Then continue to be nervous and then you’ll see it’s not that bad.” Jimin shrugs.

“Ah, so simple, I should have thought of that,” Namjoon nods, pulling his vibrating phone from his pocket, “Hoseok says he’s at the cafe on the corner down the street from it.”

“Perfect. You can tuck and roll right here.” Yoongi points to a distant spot in front of them.

Namjoon shrugs his coat on, taking one last deep, shaky breath as Jimin turns sharply down an alley and rolls to a stop.

“It’s gonna be fine.” Jimin turns and assures him one last time.

“Thank you.” Namjoon smiles tightly and nods.

“Love you, have fun!” Jimin blows a kiss.

“Good luck!” Yoongi waves.

They pull away from the curb, Namjoon watches as their car disappears around the next corner. He takes a deep breath and looks at the cafe across the street from him; it’s small, cute, and dimly lit, he can see from the outside that the walls are lined with modern art and music posters. It shouldn’t be imposing, but it is. He shoves his hands in his pockets and crosses the road, taking another deep breath as he pulls open the door and the windchimes above it tinkle gently.

Inside, it’s warm and comforting, it smells like bitter coffee and sweet pastries. Soft indie music plays overhead, low conversations of the people around him mingle with the sound of an acoustic guitar. He scans the room, looking for a familiar face- his favorite face- and sees Hoseok sitting in the back corner, tucked away in a small booth. He texts him and watches as Hoseok looks up and scans the room, his eyes brightening when he sees Namjoon. Hoseok waves enthusiastically, motioning him over, and then leans excitedly over the table and grabs the arm of who Namjoon can only assume is Dawon.  Namjoon swallows the nervous lump in his throat and crosses the room to the table. The place isn’t big, but the expanse between him and the small booth might as well have been a year-long desert trek.

“Hey.” He grins when he finally reaches the table. Hoseok scoots over and grabs Namjoon’s wrist, pulling him down onto the bench seat with him and planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Joonie,” he grins, gesturing across the table, “this is Dawon. Dawon, this is Namjoon.”

Namjoon looks across the table, having temporarily forgotten that he was here for a purpose other than Hoseok. He’s blown away by Dawon, she could be his twin. Her eyes sparkle just the same, her hair shines just the same. She’s petite and adorable with a big, big aura and Namjoon would have known in an instant, without introduction, that this was Hoseok’s older sister.

“Hi,” she gives a small wave, “I’m glad to meet you, finally.”

“I’m glad to meet you, too.” Namjoon nods, reaching across the small distance for a handshake, but Dawon pulls him awkwardly over the table into a half-hug. Namjoon coughs a little in surprise, Dawon laughs at him as she sits back in her seat.

“Hoseok told me you’re a hugger, so a hug seemed fitting.” She shrugs. Namjoon blinks hard; their mannerisms are so similar, his mind is melting.

“I was just telling Dawon about your job and almost everything about you.” Hoseok scoots closer to Namjoon.

“For the millionth time.” Dawon teases.

“I’m so boring, Hoseok, what could you even be saying?” Namjoon laughs.

“Everything about your eyes, and your hair, and your hands, and your dimples, and your eyes, and your dimples and blah blah,” Dawon rolls her eyes with a smile, “and how much he likes you and how happy you make him.”

Namjoon feels the heat of embarrassment creeping up his neck, but he’s overjoyed to hear that Hoseok is as excited about him as he is about Hoseok.

“Got it, so I’ve been way overhyped.” Namjoon laughs.

“Just a little.” Dawon nods.

“I think I’ve hyped you both up just the right amount.” Hoseok pouts, poking at Dawon’s arm with the straw from his glass of water.

“I’m teasing, Hoseok, you know I love how excited you get.” Dawon smiles, and Hoseok eases a bit. 

“So I’m sure you’re sick of hearing about me. Tell me about you,” Namjoon leans across the table a bit, “Hoseok says you’re the world’s worst older sister and he hated growing up with you?”

Dawon laughs and looks at Hoseok, pointing at Namjoon.

“You’re right, he is really funny.” She laughs.

“I told you!” Hoseok laughs back.

Namjoon listens as Dawon tells them about all the newest events at her job; she’s a fashion designer and model and nothing in the world makes her happier than creating. She tells them how she’s been bouncing around and staying in Chicago and Austin and Washington D.C lately, and how soon she may be staying in Los Angeles. She tells stories about when her and Hoseok were younger; cute stories, funny stories. Some make Hoseok laugh and add detail, some make him blush and whine for her to stop. Seeing Hoseok like this, with his sister, his best and closest friend, it warms Namjoon from deep inside. 

They sip their lattes and share stories with her; stories about the pizza place, about their friends, about themselves. They get lost in the conversation for hours and Namjoon can’t believe that he was ever nervous about this.

“Oh,” Dawon exclaims, eyes wide, just the way Hoseok’s get when he realizes something, “I need to get back to the hotel, you should come with me.”

“Yeah! We can go hang out! Joonie,” Hoseok turns to him, “you need to use the shower in her room. I used it earlier and wow, wow.”

“Okay, okay,” Namjoon laughs, “we’ll go hang out.”

Dawon argues with them for a moment over the bill for the lattes, eventually winning because she’s the oldest at the table. As she walks up to the register, it’s the first time Namjoon has seen her in entirety, and it’s uncanny how her movements are as fluid and graceful as Hoseok’s. She’s stylish and confident and Namjoon has only just met her but he already admires her. That must run in the family, the ability to draw people in within a meager few hours. 

“Do you like her?” Hoseok asks, his voice serious. 

“She’s great,” Namjoon assures him with a smile, “I like her a lot.”

“She likes you, too, I can tell.”

“Thank god.” Namjoon breathes a sigh of relief and Hoseok laughs. 

“I like you a lot, too.” 

“And I like you.” Namjoon kisses Hoseok’s forehead. 

“We’re ready?” Dawon returns and scoops up her coat, slinging her purse on. 

“We’re ready.” Hoseok confirms with a nod. 

Yoongi was right about the hotel. It is hipstery, it is a little snobby, and it’s definitely a place that Jimin would have chosen. 

They ride the elevator up to the 20th floor, which really is only the 10th floor, because this hotel is so focused on chill and relaxation that nothing is odd-numbered. Everything is blue and purple-toned, softly lit, softly furnished. Namjoon thinks he could live there.

“I have a surprise,” Dawon grins as she inserts her keycard into the slot, “are you ready?”

“I guess?” Hoseok’s eyes are wide.

Dawon opens the door and peeks in, then glances back over her shoulder and giggles. She steps in and opens the door completely; Hoseok squeals- literally squeals- and dashes into the room, there’s a dog on the bed and Hoseok is losing his shit completely.

“I had him boarded and picked him up when you went to eat earlier,” Dawon grins as she closes the door behind them. “I thought you might want to see him.”

“Namjoon,” Hoseok grins, eyes filled with happy tears, “this is Mickey. He’s the best.”

Just as Namjoon would expect, Hoseok’s dog is small, fluffy, and cute. Hoseok holds him close to his chest, nuzzling him and kissing his head gently, and if Namjoon could, he would burst into a million butterflies at the sight.

“He’s cute.” Namjoon reaches out and strokes the dog’s head, it’s shaky and skittish but sweet.

“He’s the cutest,” Dawon agrees, exiting the bathroom in her pajamas, “the shower’s all yours if you want it.”

“Yes, excellent, I’ll take it.” Namjoon slides off his shoes and his coat, Hoseok curls up on the bed with Mickey on his lap, and Dawon sets to work making cups of tea in the room’s single-serve coffee maker.

Hoseok was right, there could be no shower on Earth greater than this one. The lighting, the water pressure, the temperature, everything was phenomenal and he’s so relaxed he’s practically a noodle by the end of it.

He slips out of the shower and dries off, slipping back into his previous clothes. What he really wants is to get into pajamas and climb into bed with Hoseok, but there’s only one bed in the room, and it would probably be weird to share it with Hoseok and his sister.

He opens the bathroom door, and he doesn’t mean to, but he catches the tail end of Dawon and Hoseok’s conversation. 

“And you’re sure?” Dawon asks, low and firm but soft.

“Yes.”

“Abso lutely positive?”

“Yes.”

“Because you’ve thought so before, and--”

“I know, I know,” Hoseok sighs, “but it’s...different this time.”

There’s a pause and Namjoon holds his breath. Should he go out? Should he wait? How many times is he going to awkwardly spy on siblings?

“I just worry.” Dawon sighs.

“I know. And I appreciate that, but I’m really sure this time.”

Another pause.

“Okay. Just...I’m here, okay?”

“I know. Thank you.”

“Tea?”

“Yes, please.”

Namjoon waits a moment longer before stepping out of the bathroom, smiling at Hoseok as he does. Hoseok is in pajamas, curled up on the bed, Mickey resting in front of him as Hoseok pets him gently. 

“Isn’t that the best shower?” Hoseok smiles sleepily at him. 

“It really is,” Namjoon nods, “are you staying here tonight?”

“Just a couple of nights,” Hoseok nods, “Dawon is so popular and busy that I have to soak up all the time I can.”

“Ah, hush, here.” Dawon smiles as she hands Hoseok his cup, Hoseok sits up and accepts it with a smile as Mickey slides into his lap. 

“I think I need to get going,” Namjoon sighs, “I do have to work tomorrow. Dawon, it was so good to meet you, thank you for the coffee and the shower and for raising Hoseok.”

Dawon pulls Namjoon into a tight hug, she smells phenomenal and Namjoon wonders how ladies always manage to do that. He thinks that might maybe be sexist, but he also knows that Dawon smells like a flower wrapped in angel wings. 

“Kiss?” Hoseok asks as Dawon releases Namjoon, he looks so cute and soft in his pale purple pajamas with hearts on the pants, his hair ruffled from resting on his pillow, his dog asleep on his lap, his eyes heavy and sleepy. 

“Of course.” Namjoon smiles and leans across the bed, pressing a kiss gently on Hoseok’s lips. 

“Love you.” Hoseok smiles when Namjoon pulls away. 

“Love you. Rest well.” Namjoon smiles. 

“Do you need an Uber? I can call you one.” Dawon asks, phone in her hand. 

“Ah, that would be wonderful. I’ll pay you back?”

“No, no,” Dawon waves him off, “no worries. Just get home safe.”

“Thank you, again. For everything.” 

“That’s what a big sister does,” she smiles, “Uber will be here in 5.”

Namjoon rides the elevator down and steps out into the lobby, watching snow fall gently as he waits for his ride. 

It’s a short ride from the hotel back home, the late hour and falling snow clearing the streets. He sneaks in as quietly as possible, slipping out of his shoes and hanging his coat- borrowed from Taehyung, as were his beanie and dress shirt- and makes his way to his bedroom. 

He changes into pajamas and slides into his bed, it’s weird to be alone, but he’s glad that Hoseok gets to see his sister, and his dog, and stay the night in such a lovely place with the two of them. 

Their conversation sticks in his mind, though. What was Hoseok sure of? What was Dawon concerned about? What happened last time? Last time what, exactly?

He sighs and tries to stuff it down. He knows he can’t ask about things he’s not supposed to know. He knows he just has to wait and see things unfold, if there was even anything to unfold. 

He sits up and turns his radio on, the late-night talk show lulls him into a less-than-restful sleep.

Chapter Text

The snow is steadily falling, Namjoon leans against the wall of Yoongi and Jimin’s apartment and watches the flakes drift plump and fluffy to the ground. He grips a mug of hot tea tightly, gratefully absorbing the warmth into his chilled hands.

“Oh my god,” Taehyung emerges from the bathroom, steam billowing from the door behind them, “I didn’t think I’d ever be warm again.”

“Here,” Jimin shuffles toward them, a steaming hot mug of coffee extended, “drink up. Yoongi’s picking dinner up on the way home.”

“What’s for dinner?” Taehyung takes the mug from Jimin’s hand and holds it close to their chest. 

“Ramen, what else in the snow?” Jimin gazes out the window at the snow. 

“Ah, fuck yeah.” Taehyung shuffles toward the couch and curls up in the corner. 

“What bad luck you have,” Jimin laughs, “the pipes bursting on the heaviest snow day so far.”

Namjoon nods with a half-laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

“Yeah, somehow Taehyung and I combined have the power of the worst luck in the world. You’re sure you’re alright with us staying here tonight?” 

“Of course,” Jimin scoffs, “I’m offended you’d ask. We’re not going to make you two stay in an apartment with no power and no water in the middle of the winter.”

“It’s better than what I was going before.” Namjoon shrugs. Jimin frowns and turns his gaze back to the snow. 

“Well, that was then, and then is not now,” he glances over at Namjoon, “is something else going on? You seem...not great.”

“I woke up to a flooded apartment. And no heat. In December. So.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s true. But there’s something else, isn’t there?”

Namjoon glances over at him, then quickly returns his gaze to the snow and sips from his mug. 

“Maybe. I don’t know.” He shrugs. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t know,” Namjoon sighs and runs his hand over his face, “I think I want to take a shower and maybe process some things.”

“Okay,” Jimin nods, “okay, yeah. Please, help yourself. Take as long as you want. Our home is your home, okay?”

“Thank you, Jimin.”

“No, no thanks. We’re friends. I’d be a dick not to let you stay.”

Namjoon laughs and nods, but his mind is still running wild. 

“I’m gonna take a shower now. Thank you again, Jimin.”

“What did I literally just say?”

Namjoon grabs his backpack from Yoongi and Jimin’s office-slash-guest room and pulls out the clothes and toiletries he had managed to toss in the bag in a hurry. It’s uncomfortably familiar and simultaneously unfamiliar, laying out a few meager possessions on the fold-out bed, in an apartment, but still chilled to the bone. 

I miss you. I hope you’re having fun with Dawon. 

I am! I’m so sorry about the apartment...Yoongi and Jimin are letting you stay?

Yeah, we’re here now. I’m going to shower and call this day a wash.

Father Kim said it should be repaired and we can come back in soon,.

So I guess...silver lining?  

Silver linings for my cloudy Joonie. 

Namjoon laughs, even through text Hoseok is adorable. 

Yeah, I guess I am a little cloudy. But you enjoy your sister. Eat a lot with her and we’ll talk tomorrow. 

I couldn’t eat more if I tried! Dinner tomorrow?

Yes. Definitely. I love you, Hobi. 

I love YOU, Joonie. 

With a sigh, Namjoon shuffles to the bathroom, steps into the shower and tries to let it wash away his worries. 

He’s not worried so much about the apartment; he knows he should be, but Father Kim had a repair crew on the way before he and Taehyung had even left. He could hear the industrial strength fans in the background when Father Kim had last called him, it was under control. 

What he is worried about is Hoseok’s conversation with Dawon, and the fact that he had overheard it. What had Hoseok been through before? Namjoon knew about the streets, the jail, the hospital. What else was there? In all fairness, Hoseok deserved his privacy and anything he didn’t want to tell Namjoon, he didn’t have to. That didn’t mean it wasn’t eating Namjoon up, though. 

He steps out of the shower and absentmindedly dries his hair, climbs into his pajamas, and joins his friends in the living room. They’re gathered around the coffee table, to-go bowls and containers filled with noodles and side dishes scattered around them. 

“This looks delicious.” Namjoon sits cross-legged on the floor, the realization that amidst all the chaos of the day, he hadn’t made time to eat. 

“I made a guess, because you don’t know how to answer your phone.” Yoongi hands a styrofoam box to him, it’s heavy and the smell coming from it earns a deep grumble from Namjoon’s stomach. 

“Oh, shit,” Namjoon grimaces, “sorry.”

Yoongi shrugs and slurps his noodles. 

When Namjoon’s stomach is full of katsu and his body is heavy from the day, he sprawls out on the living room floor, staring at the ceiling. 

“Are you gonna be able to get up from there?” Jimin teases. 

“Hmm, no, probably not.” Namjoon sighs. 

“Are you sharing the bed with Tae tonight?” Yoongi asks from behind a stack of pillows and blankets. 

“No,” Taehyung scoffs, “he snores.”

“It’s not that bad!” Namjoon protests, willing himself to sit up. 

“It is. It’s the worst.” Taehyung nods grimly. 

“Fine. I’ll take the couch.” Namjoon grumbles, heaving himself up off of the floor. 

“Look! You did it!” Jimin teases. 

“Barely.” Namjoon rubs his neck. He’s exhausted and it’s really sinking in. 

He shuffles to the guest room and grabs his bag, his phone laying forgotten on the bed. He picks it up and sure enough, 2 missed calls from Yoongi, and a few messages from Hoseok. He opens the messages and smiles, they’re picture messages of Hoseok playing in the snow with Mickey, Dawon posing with a snowman in the park, Hoseok sipping a latte with foam clinging to the tip of his nose. 

Namjoon decides it doesn’t really matter what it is that’s lurking in Hoseok’s past. He has Hoseok in the present. And he couldn’t ask for more. 

——

They stand on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, close together for warmth. 

“They should be here any minute.” Jimin glances at the time on his phone, bouncing on his toes and looking anxiously up and down the sidewalk. 

“I’m starving.” Jungkook pouts, holding his stomach and throwing his head back. 

“You should have eaten lunch.” Yoongi scolds. 

“And waste valuable sushi space? I don’t think so.” Jungkook scoffs. 

“I don’t think that’s how that works, Jungkook.” Namjoon laughs.

“It definitely is.”

“If you say—“

And then, from down the sidewalk, a bright, cheerful voice. 

“Friends! Hello!” Dawon waves, walking arm-in-arm with Hoseok. 

“Dawon!” Jimin throws his arms in the air and scurries toward her. 

“They know each other?” Namjoon asks. 

“We all know Dawon.” Taehyung nods. 

“I had no idea.”

“You didn’t ask.”

“Hmm, I guess that’s fair. I still have a lot to learn.” Namjoon watches as Hoseok, Dawon and Jimin exchange hugs, he’s excited to see Hoseok, but he doesn’t want to interrupt Dawon and Jimin’s enthusiastic reunion. And, admittedly, he’s still a little unsettled by his eavesdropping. He knows he’ll have to get over it, he can’t let it eat him up forever; if it’s really that important, Hoseok will tell him when he’s ready. He could have just been overhearing a protective big sister who had seen her brother dumped too many times. He quickly ushers that thought away; the idea of someone breaking Hoseok’s heart makes his blood boil.

“Helloooo?” Hoseok calls, waving his gloved hand in Namjoon’s field of vision.

“Oh! Oh,” Namjoon comes crashing back to Earth with a laugh, “hey.”

“Where were you?” Hoseok laughs, leaning in to kiss his cheek. Namjoon wraps his arms around him and doesn’t ever want to let go.

“Probably somewhere near starvation,” Jungkook whines, tugging on Dawon’s sleeve, “Dawon let’s eeeeaaaaat.”

“He’s right. Please, let’s eat,” Dawon agrees, clutching her own stomach, “I’ve been waiting for this all day.”

“See?! I told you. You have to leave room for sushi.” Jungkook exclaims to no one in particular.

They’re wrangled together and led upstairs to a private room with a long table, and Namjoon has to restrain himself from objecting. He knows right away that this place isn’t cheap, and finds it a bit odd that none of the others seem to be bothered at all by the atmosphere. He feels a general sense of unease as he settles in at the table between Jungkook and Jimin, across from Hoseok who settles in contently between Dawon and Yoongi. He considers that maybe he hasn’t adjusted to the fact that some people have money, that he has money, and the right to spend it however he sees fit. Maybe he’s on some variety of odd high horse, maybe he’s being overly judgemental, maybe he’s feeling some misplaced form of superiority, for some reason. 

The server passes out their menus and runs down the evening’s specials, and as Namjoon looks over the menu he realizes how reasonably priced everything is, and he chides himself, because that doesn’t even matter. What is his problem? Why is he passing judgement on his friends for what’s clearly a celebration of a special occasion? 

Orders are taken and drinks are served, it’s slightly chaotic as space is made on the table for the abundance of food being delivered to them but they manage to make it work somehow.

“Everyone eat all that they want,” Yoongi announces, “this is on me and Dawon. Go crazy.”

“Yoongi, I can’t--” Namjoon begins.

“There’s no point in arguing with him,” Jimin puts his hand on Namjoon’s shoulder, “he’s not going to hear it. Just eat up and he’ll be happy.”

“Are you starting without me?” Father Kim calls as he climbs the stairs, unwrapping the scarf from around his neck.

“Start your own birthday party without you? Who do you think we are?” Jungkook scoffs, rising and pulling the chair at the head of the table out.

“Ah, you’re so patient and thoughtful,” Father Kim grins, kissing Dawon’s cheek as he makes his way to his seat, “did anyone say prayer?”

“No, not yet. Jungkookie, will you do the honor?” Taehyung pours themselves a glass of water.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Jungkook extends his hands to either side, Namjoon awkwardly takes one as Father Kim takes the other, so on and so forth, and everyone bows their heads, save for Namjoon and Yoongi, who make awkward eye contact across the table. Yoongi shrugs and Namjoon shrugs back.

“Father,” Jungkook begins, “we thank you for this food, for these friends, for this time together, and for all we have. May everyone at this table be blessed with good health, good fortune, and happiness now and for all the days to come.”

“Amen.” Father Kim nods.

“Amen.” Hoseok, Dawon, Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook echo.

“Let’s eat.” Father Kim claps his hands.

“So,” Dawon grins as she picks pieces of sushi from the spread and places them on her plate, “Christmas eve is tomorrow! What’s the plan?”

“Well, Jungkookie and I will be busy with services,” Father Kim pours Dawon a cup of tea, “I believe Jimin is attending Christmas eve Mass and helping with the little ones, correct?”

“Yes,” Jimin covers his mouth, which is stuffed full of dumpling, and swallows hard, “correct. We’ll be having a little Christmas party.”

“I’ll be helping Jimin with that.” Taehyung chimes in.

“Yoongi and I are making the service dinner with the volunteers,” Hoseok adds, “and prepping for Christmas day services.”

“Wow, you’re all so busy and important,” Dawon’s eyes are wide, “so does that leave me and you, Namjoon?”

“I guess it does,” Namjoon shrugs, “I don’t really do...uh, churchy things.”

“Well, you’ll be on-call for emergency counseling, as usual, but that’s not a big thing. I will be, too.” Jungkook reminds him.

“Me, too.” Father Kim nods.

“Well, yeah, there’s that, but that’s all I have.” Namjoon nods.

“Fantastic! Your place or mine, then?” Dawon grins.

“What?” Namjoon nearly chokes on his tempura.

“Will we be hanging out at my place, or yours?” Dawon repeats with a laugh.

“Ooh, ooh! Mine! Hang out at my place,” Hoseok raises his hand, “I’ll be there during the day and you can hang out in the evening!”

“Oh, yes! I’ve been dying to see your place!’ Dawon gives an enthusiastic little clap.

“Oh, um, okay. Yeah. Okay.” Namjoon nods, his words lost, his throat dry. 

“Don’t worry,” Dawon leans across the table to him, “I promise I’m fun to hang out with. No big deal.”

“No big deal.” Namjoon nods with a smile, but inside he’s screaming. 

He rides home with Jimin, Yoongi and Taehyung, opting to stay out of the apartment for one more night at Father Kim’s suggestion, just to be sure everything is functioning properly and thoroughly dried out. Yoongi is behind the wheel this time, Jimin and Taehyung are a little wine drunk and a lot giggly, and Namjoon feels mostly at peace, save for the rumble of apprehension in his chest at the idea of hanging out one-on-one with Dawon. But mostly he’s too full to feel anything but the immediate need to sleep. He barely manages to make it through his shower with his eyes open, emerging exhausted and noodle-limp, shuffling heavily to the couch and plopping down next to Taehyung.

“I am so. Tired.” Taehyung lets their head flop back onto the couch, yawning long and loud.

“You and me both. But. You’re in my bedroom currently.”  Namjoon gestures to the couch.

“How can you be so cruel to me in this, the home of our friends?” Taehyung pouts.

“I’m not known to be a man of mercy.” Namjoon shrugs.

“Oh, okay, you’re soooo tough.” Taehyung teases, pushing Namjoon away with a laugh.

There’s a lull in the conversation, and Namjoon hears a distinct type of giggle from Jimin followed by a laugh and very certain tone of voice from down the hallway. He looks to Taehyung, who smiles at Namjoon with a nod.

“Yeah, they’re gonna have sex,” Taehyung laughs, ‘“so like. You’re gonna hear it.”

“Well, this is their home, and we’re in it, so I mean, it’s gonna happen, I suppose?”

“Just put some headphones in and pass out, man. I’m off to bed.”

“Good night!”

“Good night,” Taehyung rises from the couch, “merry Christmas Eve.”

“Oh, yeah,” Namjoon glances at the time on his phone, “merry Christmas eve.”

He settles in on the couch, pulls the blanket off of the couch and opens his text thread with Hoseok.

I’m going to bed, my sunshine. I love you.

I love you! I hope that you sleep well!

I will now that I’m thinking of you. <3

<3<3<3

Namjoon closes his eyes and curls up tight, his phone gives one last buzz. He cracks his eye open, the text is from a number he doesn’t recognize.

Hey, it’s Dawon! Hobi gave me your number. 

Oh! Hey. That’s cool!

Can’t wait to hang out tomorrow! :D

Namjoon’s heart thumps, he’s excited and terrified.

Me either! Sleep well!

You too!

He sighs and closes his eyes. He hopes he’s good enough for Dawon’s precious time.

Chapter Text

Namjoon swings open the door to his apartment for the first time in days, relieved to be home. It’s not like he minded staying with Yoongi and Jimin, he loved his friends, but everything was either made for or adjusted to suit their heights, making for a cramped sleeping situation. Besides, nothing quite beats your own home, especially when you finally have a home after so many years.

“Oh wow,” Taehyung breathes deeply as they shrug off their coat, “it smells so good in here.”

“I think he refinished the floors,” Namjoon kicks his shoes off and shakes snow from his hair, “and look, he gave us a floor mat.”

“Wow, practical,” Taehyung nods and slides out of their shoes as well, “I’m hungry.”

“Ah, me too,” Namjoon realizes, the mere mention of hunger makes his stomach growl as he shuffles behind Taehyung into the kitchen, “why didn’t Jimin make breakfast?”

Taehyung gives Namjoon a sideways glance as they pull assorted lunch meat from the fridge, assessing how edible each package might be as they do.

“First of all, what is Jimin, your mom? Is he supposed to feed you breakfast in bed? Are you that spoiled now?”

“Well, no, of course not,” Namjoon laughs, “I was just saying.”

“Second of all,” Taehyung pauses and sighs deeply, “you really haven’t figured it out yet?”

“Figured what out?”

“Namjoon. Really. Think for a second.” Taehyung stares at him, flat-faced.

Namjoon feels his eyebrows pinch together, he scans his brain for any indication of what Taehyung might be dancing around, and it hits him like a freight train. Everything makes so much sense and he doesn’t know how it took him so long to piece it together.

“Oh my god,” Namjoon rubs at his face, “he’s got an eating disorder.” 

“Yeah. We don’t say it often, for obvious reasons,” Taehyung nods, ”but yeah. Just. Sit with that info. We all have something, Namjoon, that we’re struggling with. You can’t possibly know the things quite yet, but they’re there for all of us.”

“Got it. I’m, um. Not the most observant sometimes,” Namjoon rubs at the back of his neck, the heat of embarrassment near-boiling in his stomach, “I think that. Um. I think I don’t see things that I don’t want to see, uh, with. Um. With people I really care about.”

“Clearly,” Taehyung sighs again and dumps the majority of the food into the garbage, “should we go see what Hobi and Dawon are up to?”

“Yes.”

“And also if there’s food over there?”
“Double yes.”

“Let’s drop our stuff off and go.”

Namjoon tosses his bag onto his bed and then freezes- his comforter is different and there’s a note on his pillow. He sits down on the bed, the comforter plush and soft, his pillow fluffy and more lively than he remembers.

Namjoon-

Your comforter was worn and your pillow was deflated. We can’t have that. I picked the comforter, Jungkookie picked the pillow. Merry Christmas.

-Father Kim 

(and Jungkook)

He smiles at the note in his hands; such thoughtful people surrounded him, it touched him deeply. He reaches up and knocks on the wall above his bed.

“Hoseok?” He calls.

“Namjoonie?”

“Can we come over?”

“Yes, yes, come over here!”

Taehyung bounds into the room, knocking on the wall as well.

“Hobi!”

“Taehyungie?”

“Can we eat over there too?”

“Yes, please, come eat, Dawon made lunch!”

“We’re coming!”

“Way to interrupt.” Namjoon teases Taehyung.

“I didn’t know you had some sort of prison-style communication system in here,” Taehyung looks mildly impressed, “innovative.”

“Can we go eat now?”

“Obviously.”

Hoseok’s door swings open before Namjoon can even knock, the smell of stew hits his nose and he thinks he might love Dawon just as much as he loves Hoseok. Or at least his stomach says so. Hoseok pulls them inside, wrapping his arms tightly around Namjoon.

“I missed you!” He exclaims, holding Namjoon close.

“I missed you too.” Namjoon sighs, inhaling Hoseok’s smell deeply. Shampoo and citrus and candy-sweet lotion, the best smells in the world.

“Dawon!” Taehyung throws their hands in the air.

“Oh, Taehyungie,” Dawon swoons, collapsing into Taehyung’s arms, “it’s been hours since I’ve seen you, I thought I’d die!”

“Funny, funny,” Namjoon smirks as he pulls away from Hoseok and kicks off his shoes, “excellent jokes.”

“Ah, I’m kidding, don’t be so sour, Namjoonie,” Dawon reaches over and pinches Namjoon’s cheek. He hasn’t had anyone pinch his cheeks in years, since he was a child. He’s strangely not mad about it, “Hoseokie says you’re hungry?”

“Starving to death, ” Taehyung drapes themselves over Dawon’s shoulder, “where’s Mickey?”

“Sleeping in my room. So tiny. So cute.” Hoseok holds his heart.

“Please, come eat with us, I made tomato soup and we’re making grilled cheeses. Perfect snow food.” Dawon pulls them in further, taking their coats.

“Have a seat on the couch, we’ll be done really soon!” Hoseok guides them to the couch, dropping a kiss on the top of Namjoon’s head before returning to the kitchen with his sister.

“Look,” Taehyung points to the corner, where a tiny artificial tree sits, a small star glows on top, a few neatly-wrapped presents sit below it, “even his Christmas tree is cute.”

“His everything is cute.”

“He seems really excited today.”

“Yoongi said Hoseok loves the holidays. And his sister and dog are here. I’d be excited too if I were him.”

“Hmm, yeah,” Taehyung nods thoughtfully, “it is a good time for him.”

“Taehyungie, come help with your grilled cheese!” Dawon calls from the kitchen.

“Coming!” Taehyung launches themselves off the couch.

Namjoon stares at the tree, hoping none of the gifts are for him. It hadn’t even crossed his mind to go Christmas shopping. He glances over his shoulder toward the kitchen, then creeps toward the tree. Each little package is addressed to Hoseok from Dawon, and he breathes a sigh of relief. 

“Namjoonie! Come make yours!” Hoseok calls for him. 

With soup and grilled cheeses devoured and hands and toes finally warm, Dawon settles onto the couch with Mickey in her lap and a glass of wine in her hand, Namjoon with a beer in hand and a bowl of popcorn in his lap, and they wish Taehyung and Hoseok good luck with their religious affairs.

“So,” Dawon smiles, flicking on the TV to some Christmas baking show, “Namjoon. What’s up?”

“Um, we’re hanging out?” Namjoon shrugs nervously. Dawon laughs, and her laugh is so big and sweet that it puts him at ease.

“We are, we are,” she nods, playing with one of Mickey’s ears, “but I mean what’s up with you? Hoseok has told me a lot but I’m sure he didn’t tell me everything.”

“Well,” Namjoon takes a sip of his beer, “I’m not sure there’s a whole lot to tell? I moved in next door in August, just a week or so after I met Hoseok.”

“He told me how you met. Adorable.”

“I guess it kind of is,” Namjoon laughs and nods, “it still seems sort of crazy.”

“Wild. Coincidental. Magical. Not crazy.” Dawon’s voice takes on a slight edge, and if Namjoon had feathers, they’d be a little ruffled now.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t--”

“That’s okay.” The smile returns to Dawon’s face.

“But, um. Yeah. It was sort of wild. I don’t really believe in fate or anything like that, nothing divine, I guess, but it does kind of feel like we were pushed to each other somehow.”

“Anything is possible.” Dawon shrugs and takes a sip of wine. 

“So, yeah. We met. And he drew me in. Like...like the sun pulling me into its orbit. He’s...I’ve never met anyone like him. I’ve never felt like this before, I love him. I love him and I...I, um. I really see forever with him. Really. I do.” Namjoon’s heart constricts with the weight of the words and how much he means them. He hadn’t really realized it, hadn’t said it out loud, but he means it with his whole being. He peels at the label on his beer bottle, then sneaks a peek at Dawon. He smile is small and soft, a flush sitting on the apples of her cheeks. She dabs at the corner of her eye with the sleeve of her sweater and laughs. 

“I get a little ooey-gooey lovey-dovey after a couple of glasses.” She shrugs with a sniffle, lifting her glass to Namjoon. 

“Hoseok does, too.” Namjoon laughs, clinking the neck of his bottle with her glass. 

“I’m glad you found him. I’m glad he found you. And maybe it’s a little soon to say this,” she traces the curve of Mickey’s spine lightly with her fingertips, “but I’d be glad to be your sister-in-law.” 

Namjoon feels his eyes widen and his heart skips at the prospect of it. 

“Well, if I’ve gained your favor, there’s nothing I can’t do.”

“The older sister is the most vital to impress.”

“Then I’m doing well?”

She pauses and takes another sip of wine. 

“Hmm. You’ll do.” She laughs. 

It’s unbelievably familiar somehow to talk to Dawon, their conversation flows easily and the silence happens naturally and comfortably. Hours have passed of them sharing childhood stories, work stories, goals and dreams. She’s so similar to Hoseok in spirit and light but wiser and more seasoned than him, giving her a sharp, quick wit. Hoseok is smart and funny, that’s for sure, but Dawon is quick with a comeback and snappy with retorts. He sees why Jimin and Taehyung like her so much, he thinks that if she lived closer, she’d be a beautiful addition to their little family. 

“The sun’s gone down,” Dawon finishes her glass of wine and glances at her watch, “did you know we’ve been hanging out for five hours?”

“Five hours?!” Namjoon exclaims, checking the time on his phone. Sure enough, it’s 8 in the evening. 

“I’ve enjoyed this time but I’m kicking you out,” she cradles Mickey to her chest and stands, “I’m very sleepy now.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Namjoon rises as well, collecting his bottles and her glass, “you go rest, I’ll clean up. You’ve done a lot for us today. This week.”

“You’re so sweet,” Dawon stands on her tiptoes and kisses Namjoon’s cheek, “just lock up when you leave?”

“Of course. Thank you, good night!”

“Good night!” She calls as she disappears down the hallway. 

Namjoon makes quick work of the clean up, washing the dishes and drying them, putting them away as quietly as possible, and collecting the trash on his way out the door. 

The snow has started to fall again, and he feels light, airy, comfortable. He takes the shift in mindset, hypes himself up, and sets off to Father Kim’s office. 

He slips in through the kitchen door just as Yoongi is setting out the last of the serving spoons and the volunteers are lining up to serve. He looks exhausted, but satisfied. 

“Hey,” Namjoon shakes snow from his hair, “is there anything I can do?”

“Hmm,” Yoongi surveys the room, “no, I don’t think so. Hoseok finished up the all-purpose room and made a last minute market run with Jungkook. The servers are all here. I’m done. I’m going to go sit down.”

“Is the service finished?”

“Yep, Father Kim is wrapping up now.”

“Cool. I’m gonna go wait in his office.” 

“Wait,” Yoongi grabs two plates, fills them from the food prepped for backup, and sticks plastic forks and spoons in Namjoon’s breast pocket, “take this to them. And tell them I don’t want to hear shit about it.”

“Heard loud and clear. Thanks, Yoongi!”

Namjoon shuffles quickly down the hall, doing his best not to be spotted as he does so. He’s laser-focused and as much as he loves his friends, he doesn’t want to be pulled into conversation.

He knocks on the door with his elbow, Jungkook calls for him to enter.

“Can you open it? Hands full.” Namjoon calls back. The door swings open and Jungkook grins at him, stepping aside. 

“Come in! Father Kim’s should be here in just a minute.” Jungkook is still dressed in his service robes, his hair done neatly, his earrings removed. He looks like a baby and Namjoon wants to coo at him and scoop him up and protect him forever.

“This is for you, and Yoongi doesn’t want to hear shit about it.” Namjoon hands a plate over.

“Oh, he’ll hear shit.” Jungkook grins and takes the plate, plucking the fork from Namjoon’s pocket. 

Jungkook takes the other plate and sets it on the desk, pours a cup of coffee, and makes a nice place setting for Father Kim to sit down to.

“That’s really sweet, Jungkook.” Namjoon watches him fondly.

“He’s been tired easily since the asthma episode,” Jungkook removes his robe and hangs it on the wall, exchanging it for his hoodie, “I get worried about him. But don’t tell him that.”

“I won’t, I promise.” Namjoon crosses his heart.

“I can’t have him thinking that I, like, look up to him or anything.” Jungkook pulls his hoodie on and musses his hair a little. He looks a bit more like the Jungkook that Namjoon is used to now, but Namjoon can tell how much he’s grown and matured just in the short time since they first met.

The door to the office swings open and Father Kim startles, clearly not expecting Namjoon’s presence.

“Hey.” Namjoon smiles sheepishly.

“Hello, Namjoon,” Father Kim smiles and removes his stole, hanging it on a hook by the wall, “what brings you?”

“Food.” Jungkook points to the plate at Father Kim’s chair, his mouth full of ham.

“Ah, phenomenal.” Father Kim grins, taking his seat.

“And coffee.”

“Even better.”

“I’m gonna do the rounds and head out,” Jungkook reaches for the door, “Mom works tomorrow so I wanna get some time in.”

“Good night, Jungkookie. Good job tonight, thank you.” Father Kim smiles fondly.

“Um, thanks,” Jungkook’s ears go fire-engine red, “Merry Christmas, Father. Merry Christmas, Namjoon.”

He ducks out of the door at lightning speed.

“He’s so easy to embarrass.” Father Kim laughs, taking a sip of his coffee.

“How was service?”

“Good. Long,” Father Kim runs a hand through his hair, “but good. The congregation and choir do most of the work during Christmas services, but wow, am I tired. What brings you here?”

“If you’re too tired, I can--”

“No, no, please. I’ll drink this and be back to normal. What can I do for you?” Father KIm reaches into his desk drawer and puts his glasses on, pushes his plate aside and gives Namjoon his full attention.

“You can eat while we talk.” Namjoon gestures to the plate.

“This is your time. The food can wait.” Father Kim smiles softly.

“Um, okay. I’m not sure how to word this so bear with me,” Namjoon sits back in his chair, “at dinner yesterday, I was having these really, um...not really intrusive thoughts, nothing harmful or dangerous or anything like that. But more like. Hmm...very judgmental? Of our friends. Kind of like, um, a sort of superiority for not indulging in more extravagant things? Or what I may have once considered extravagant. And I didn’t ever think that I felt such a way? I don’t know. I found myself judging the place, judging the price tag, judging Yoongi and Dawon for the money they were spending. Which is, you know, none of my business of course, they work hard and it’s their money, they can do as they please. But I’m...I don’t know...unsettled? By the way I reacted to it. I’m not sure.” 

Father Kim purses his lips and sits back for a moment, looking thoughtful.

“You know, this sort of thing happened with Yoongi as well,” Father Kim nods, “this is unfamiliar to you, yes? The notion of having any amount of money that isn’t staunchly for one purpose.”

“Yeah, it’s very new.” Namjoon nods with a laugh.

“So the idea of someone taking any sum of money and spending it on something that isn’t immediately survival-related is probably a little jarring. That’s going to take some adjusting. You don’t just go from not having a home, to then having a home and a job and disposable income, along with friends who have disposable income, and not get some degree of whiplash. What I’m assuming, Namjoon, is that this is some sort of protective instinct of yours. You were without, and you saw people who weren’t, and it hurt you, it felt unfair, the world is unjust. So you built that wall. And it’s hard to tear that wall down.”

“Huh.” Namjoon nods thoughtfully.

“And I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I think it’s something you’ll have to work against, for sure, but we all have knee-jerk protective thoughts and instincts. Just evaluate where they’re coming from and work with it.” Father Kim smiles and pulls his plate back in front of him.

“Wow. I guess I didn’t consider that,” Namjoon sighs, “it makes...perfect sense. You’re absolutely right. Father, you’re really incredible, you know?”

“Yes. I do.” Father Kim grins and scoops corn into his mouth.

“I appreciate it. So much. You always know what to say.” 

“It’s a divine gift,” Father Kim shrugs, “and listening to a lot of people who have said very, very similar things. Now. Go eat before there’s nothing left.”

“Thank you again, Father,” Namjoon rises from his seat, “and thank you for the repairs. And the blanket. And the pillow.”

“You can thank me for everything under the sun later. Go. Merry Christmas.” Father Kim shoos him away.

“Merry Christmas. Thank you,” Namjoon opens the door and gives a little bow on his way out, “thank you.”

“Good grief, will you go?!”

“Thank you!” Namjoon shouts one last time and closes the door behind him. He can hear Father Kim shout at him from the other side and he laughs. He heads toward the all-purpose room, poking his head into Jimin’s classroom first.

“Jimin!” he calls over the tiny voices filling the room.

“Namjoon,” Jimin grins from his seat on the floor next to Taehyung, who’s sitting on a tiny plastic chair, paint brush in hand, “want your face painted? Tae’s a master of face paint.”

“I’m an angel!” A child with glitter painted on his face shouts to Namjoon.

“You sure are!” Jimin assures him.

“Um, I’m good, actually.” Namjoon laughs.

“Why do you hate fun?” Taehyung pouts as Jimin motions for the next child to come up.

“Have you seen Hoseok?” Namjoon asks.

“He went home, I think,” Jimin pulls a smock over the child’s head, “to say good-bye to Dawon and Mickey before they went back to the hotel.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll text him, then. Thanks! Have fun!’

“What do we say, class?” Jimin calls over the children.

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Kim.”

“Merry Christmas, kids.” Namjoon grins.

He heads toward the kitchen where Jungkook is helping Yoongi with the last of the cleaning.

“What are you doing, Jungkook? Get out of here,” Namjoon grabs his shoulders and steers him toward the door, “go home to your mom.”

“But Yoongi--”

“Go, Jungkook!” Yoongi calls.

“Okay, good night!” Jungkook calls as he ducks out the door.

“What can I do?” Namjoon turns to Yoongi.

“Literally just take the trash out. We’re done.”

“Alright, got it. Merry Christmas, Yoongi.”

“Merry Christmas, Namjoon.”

Namjoon collects the trash and drops it at the dumpster, pulls his phone out, and opens his Hoseok thread.

Hey Sunshine

Did you go home?

I did. You should come over.

I’m going to shower and I’ll be right there.

I can’t wait. Let yourself in when you get here.

Love you.

Love you. <3

Namjoon hustles to his apartment and rushes through his routine, throws his pajamas on, pounds a canned coffee from the fridge, and makes his way to Hoseok’s.

When he opens the door, the apartment is dim, lit only by the glow of Hoseok’s tiny little Christmas lights.

“Hobi?” Namjoon calls.

“In here!” Hoseok’s voice comes from down the hall. Namjoon locks the door behind him and kicks his shoes off, then makes his way down the hall. Something smells incredible, he feels immediately relaxed at the scent. He knocks on the bedroom door, soft light spilling from underneath.

“Hobi?”

“Come in!”

He opens the door and his heart skips a beat.

Candles are lit, Hoseok is sitting up in bed bathed in soft, flickering light, being absolutely swallowed by one of Namjoon’s t-shirts that he had considered lost for eternity. His mouth goes dry at the sight of Hoseok in his clothes with messy hair and glittering eyes.

“Come here, silly.” Hoseok extends a hand. 

Namjoon closes the door behind him and approaches the bed, his heart in his throat. He takes Hoseok’s hand gently and allows himself to be pulled into bed. Hoseok lifts the covers and Namjoon slides under them, enveloped in the warmth and feeling completely ecstatic. 

“Hey.” Hoseok grins at him. 

“Hey.” Namjoon grins back. 

Hoseok pushes Namjoon’s hair off of his forehead and leans in for a kiss, soft and gentle, wrapping his arms around Namjoon’s neck. Namjoon wraps his arms around Hoseok and pulls him close. 

“I missed you this evening.” Hoseok nuzzled Namjoon’s neck when they pull apart for air. 

“I missed you too.” Namjoon strokes Hoseok’s hair. Hoseok presses a kiss to Namjoon’s jaw, then his collarbone, then his throat, and Hoseok’s hand slides its way around Namjoon’s neck again, and the next thing Namjoon knows, Hoseok is in his lap, straddling him, kissing him like his life depended on it. Namjoon’s hands find their way to Hoseok’s thighs- his bare thighs, and he grips them tightly, kissing Hoseok back like he’d die if he didn’t. His hands slide their way up Hoseok’s strong thighs, his skin soft and warm and amazing under his hands. He grips Hoseok’s ass with one hand, the other finding its way to the small of his back. He gives a squeeze and Hoseok breaks the kiss, his head falling back, and Namjoon seizes the opportunity to latch onto Hoseok’s throat. Hoseok shifts in his lap, desperate to get closer to Namjoon, tugging at the hem of his shirt. Namjoon pulls away and discards his shirt to the floor, grinning up at Hoseok as he tugs on the hem of his shirt, too. Hoseok smiles down at him and pulls the shirt off, tossing it to land uncared for somewhere in the room. Namjoon’s hands are on his bare skin again, pulling him impossibly closer, laying back on the pile of pillows and taking Hoseok with him. 

Hoseok kisses Namjoon deeply, grinding down against him, the friction from his sweatpants is a little harsh but it’s thrilling. 

Hoseok pulls away, propping himself up on his hands, his eyes are hazy and his cheeks are flushed.

“Namjoon,” he pants, grinding down again, “I want you.”

“Oh my god, Hoseok, I want you too.”

“Please. Now. Please please.”

“Oh, fuck, yeah, okay.” Namjoon lifts his hips and slides his sweatpants down, kicking them away to disappear in the tangle of sheets. Hoseok leans in and kisses him again, groping around blindly on the shelf above his bed. He retrieves a small bottle and a rag, wordlessly placing it in Namjoon’s hand, their lips never leaving each other. Hoseok pulls away again, looking deep into Namjoon’s eyes.

“It’s been a while. A long while.” 

“I’ll be gentle, then. We’ll take it slow. And don’t worry, it’s been a long, long while for me too.” Namjoon tucks a piece of Hoseok’s hair behind his ear.

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

Hoseok climbs off of Namjoon and lays out on his pillows, and Namjoon’s throat goes dry all over again.

“Hoseok, you’re so beautiful.” Namjoon whispers as he cups Hoseok’s face.

“Stop.” Hoseok blushes, pulling Namjoon in for another kiss.

Namjoon pulls away again and strokes Hoseok’s face.

“Are you ready?” Namjoon whispers.

“God, yes.” Hoseok sighs, letting his legs fall open. 

Namjoon positions himself between Hoseok’s spread legs, coating his fingers in lube. He closes the bottle and sets it aside, taking Hoseok’s hand in his clean one.

“One to start.” Namjoon whispers. Hoseok nods and closes his eyes.

Namjoon slides one finger inside of him, Hoseok takes it easily and moans.

“That’s nice.” Hoseok nods, a small smile on his face. Namjoon works him a little more, squeezing his hand.

“Another?”

“Another.”

Namjoon adds a second finger and Hoseok draws in a deep breath.

“Okay?” Namjoon asks, kissing Hoseok’s forehead.

“Yeah. It’s good.” Hoseok nods.

Namjoon pumps his fingers in and out of Hoseok gently, stretching him open slowly.

“One more, please.” Hoseok sighs, pushing back against Namjoon’s fingers. Namjoon adds another and Hoseok sucks in a deep breath. Namjoon pauses, giving him a moment to adjust.

“I’m okay.” Hoseok smiles up at Namjoon reassuringly.

Namjoon works Hoseok open some more, eventually Hoseok adjusts to it and starts to push back, gripping Namjoon’s hand tightly.

“Joonie,” Hoseok sighs, “I’m ready.”

Namjoon kisses Hoseok’s forehead and pulls his fingers out, wiping them clean on the rag before reaching for the bottle again and coating himself in lube.

“Are you comfortable, babe? You’re ready?” Namjoon positions himself between Hoseok’s legs.

“Yes,” Hoseok wraps his arms around Namjoon’s neck, “very.”

“I love you.” Namjoon kisses Hoseok’s forehead.

“I love you.” 

Namjoon slides inside of Hoseok slowly, gently, until his hips meet the firm swell of Hoseok’s ass and they’re as close as they could possibly be. Hoseok moans and clenches as Namjoon shifts to get leverage, and Namjoon nearly loses it right then and there.

“God,” Hoseok moans, “Joonie, oh my god.”

Namjoon pulls out, then thrusts back in again. Hoseok gasps and wraps his arms tighter around Namjoon’s neck, wrapping his legs around Namjoon’s hips, burying his face in the crook of Namjoon’s neck.

“Hoseok,” Namjon gasps, “baby, you feel amazing.”

Hoseok moans in response, gripping Namjoon tighter, kissing his neck. Namjoon thrusts again, and Hoseok rolls his hips to meet him. 

They find their rhythm and soon enough, Namjoon is thrusting slow and steady, Hoseok is rocking up against him, sweat building between them, tongues tangling and the sound of skin on skin fills the room. Hoseok moans into Namjoon’s mouth on one particularly deep thrust, his thighs twitching.

“There?” Namjoon whispers into Hoseok’s ear.

“Yeah, uh-huh, right there.” Hoseok gasps, nodding frantically.

Namjoon rolls his hips again, Hoseok’s breath catches in his chest, he presses his head back into the pillows and moans deeply.

“Again.” He gasps, reaching down and wrapping his hand around himself, pumping along with Namjoon’s thrusts. Namjoon hits it again, Hoseok’s muscles contract around him and he nearly loses it. Hoseok gasps and pushes back against Namjoon, finally cresting over with a cry, spilling over onto his hand and stomach. Namjoon groans as Hoseok’s muscles ripple around him, pulling him over the edge as well, and he finishes with a guttural moan, emptying inside of Hoseok with one last thrust. He props himself up on shaky arms, letting his head hang limply. Hoseok kisses his forehead, groping beside him for the discarded rag and wiping his hand clean.

“Wow.” Namjoon breathes, bringing his head up to lock eyes with Hoseok again. 

“Wow.” Hoseok gives him a breathy giggle and nods.

“I guess I have to shower again.” Namjoon laughs.

“Yeah, I guess we do.” 

“I’m gonna...um...exit now.”

Hoseok laughs and Namjoon kisses his forehead as he pulls out, and he wants to flop to the side and go to sleep, but Hoseok is a clean and tidy creature who most likely wouldn’t tolerate going to bed covered in fluids.

They collect their clothes and make their way to the bathroom together, climbing in under the warm water and letting it drench them as they wash each other clean, sharing soft, sweet kisses in between until the water goes cold.

“Go make some tea?” Hoseok asks sleepily once he’s dressed again, his eyelids heavy.

“Of course.” Namjoon kisses his forehead and makes his way to the kitchen. He brews some peppermint tea and carries the mugs to the bedroom where Hoseok is putting new sheets on the bed. Namjoon sets the mugs aside and helps him, they keep catching each other’s eyes and giggling. 

When the bed is made and the pillows replaced, Hoseok flips on the radio and climbs into bed to sip his tea. Namjoon climbs in and sits beside him, leaning back against the wall, warm and relaxed and content.

Hoseok yawns and takes the final sip of his tea, placing the mug on the bedside table and sinking into the pillows. Namjoon reaches over and sets his down next to Hoseok’s before cuddling up close to him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

“Namjoon?” Hoseok asks sleepily.

“Hmm?”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Hobi."

Chapter Text

Namjoon’s eyes open slowly, he stretches out his limbs with a groan as his consciousness comes drifting back to him. He stares at the ceiling for a moment, he can already feel the ache in his thighs and lower back; he’s out of practice for the previous night’s activities, but the ache is a welcome and satisfying one. A grin creeps across his face, growing so big he’s sure it could split his face in two, and he covers his eyes and sighs at the giddiness he feels, a deep warmth in the pit of his stomach, a joyful ache of glee in his chest. He’s in love and there’s no doubt about it. 

Eventually he coaxes himself out of bed, the old wood of Hoseok’s bedroom floor cold on his feet. 

“Hobi?” He calls as he opens the bedroom door, the smell of coffee and sausage drifting down the short hallway and tickling his nose. 

“In the kitchen!” Hoseok calls. 

Namjoon makes a stop at the bathroom, splashing water on his face and smoothing his hair down. He smiles at his reflection, he knows he should reel in his enthusiasm but he’s so over the moon that he doesn’t know if it’s even possible. 

“Good morning.” Namjoon smiles as he shuffles into the kitchen, Hoseok is standing at the stove, tentatively poking at sausages in a frying pan. His hair is ruffled, his cowlick standing nearly straight up, his cheeks are flushed and his face sleep-swollen, his pajamas swallowing him whole. He looks positively adorable and Namjoon wants to scoop him up and hold him close forever. 

“Good morning,” Hoseok grins sleepily at him, then turns back to the frying pan, “I’m not a very good cook, but I thought you’d probably be really hungry.”

“I’m sure they’re delicious,” Namjoon grabs some plates and mugs from the cabinets, “and I’m starving.”

Hoseok scoops sausage links onto Namjoon’s plates and Namjoon pops bread into the toaster, Hoseok pours coffee and Hoseok sets the table and as they settle in to eat together, Namjoon can’t stop glancing at Hoseok and thinking about living just like this forever. 

“Merry Christmas, beautiful.” Namjoon holds his coffee mug up to Hoseok. 

“Oh! You’re right,” Hoseok reaches across the small distance between his seat and the refrigerator, pulls out flavored creamer and whipped cream, and turns back to Namjoon with a grin, “merry Christmas.”

He pours a generous amount of the peppermint-flavored creamer into his cup and tops it with a swirl of cream from the can of whip, smiling gleefully as he wraps his hands around the mug and takes a big gulp, sighing in satisfaction as he sets it back down. It’s almost intolerably adorable. 

“You’re almost too cute, Hobi.” 

“Dawon and I have had the same drink Christmas morning every year since I’ve been old enough to drink anything but baby’s milk. I didn’t move on to coffee until I was like 16, but still. Would you like some?” Hoseok offers his mug. 

“With all due respect, I don’t think my body can withstand that amount of sugar.” Namjoon laughs. 

“Fine,” Hoseok shrugs and takes another gulp from the mug, “more for me.”

They eat in comfortable silence for a moment, easing into the day together. It’s relaxing and warm and everything Namjoon could want and more. 

“Last night was,” Namjoon leans back in his chair after he’s finished his plate, “last night was just fantastic, Hobi. I’m still rattled.”

“Stop it,” Hoseok blushes, hiding his face behind his mug, peeking over the brim, “you’re too sweet.”

“I love you.”

“ I love you. ”

“What’s the plan for today?”

“Hmm,” Hoseok glances at the clock, “I missed morning Mass by hours. I’ll probably go to the evening service. Dawon will be by to exchange gifts this afternoon. We’ll probably do a Friendsmas thing after evening Mass.”

“Friendsmas?”

“Friend’s Christmas,” Hoseok nods, “Friendsmas.”

“Oh my god, that’s cute.”

“So I’ll probably shower and help with lunch service, because I’m sure Yoongi and the team are overwhelmed over there. He could probably use another set of hands. What are you doing?”

“Um,” Namjoon purses his lips in thought, “I’ll probably also shower and I have to counsel the youth group this evening, and then would it be okay if I come to the evening service? I’m just kind of curious, I guess. I’ve never, um. Massed?”

“Massed?” Hoseok laughs. 

“Don’t laugh at me, I don’t know what you do!”

“Of course you can join, it’s not some super exclusive invite-only thing. In case you haven’t noticed, the more people Father Kim has listening to him, the happier he is.” Hoseok stands and clears the table. 

Namjoon helps him tidy up the kitchen before hesitantly kissing him goodbye and heading back to his own apartment. He can hear music playing inside, Taehyung and Jimin singing along obnoxiously. 

“Hello?” Namjoon calls as he opens the door, and the duo poke their heads out of the kitchen. They’re grinning knowingly at him, a deep blush washes over him. 

“Heyyy there, Romeo.” Jimin grins. 

“Busy last night, hot lips?” Taehyung chimes in. 

Namjoon sighs and laughs, nodding as he kicks his shoes off. 

“Is nothing secret?” He makes his way to the kitchen, where Taehyung is elbow-deep in kneading bread and Jimin is returning to mashing potatoes with all of his might. Jimin reaches over and turns the radio down, shooting a grin at Namjoon over his shoulder. 

“Hobi texted me at like, 4 o’clock this morning,” Jimin sprinkles a generous amount of herbs into the potatoes, “it was cute. ‘Minnie I just got up to pee but I have to tell you it happened I’m so happy merry Christmas I love you’. I died about it.”

“He texted you that? That he was so happy?” Namjoon grins. 

“There was like, zero punctuation.” Taehyung rips a piece of dough away from their giant mound and rolls it into a neat ball. 

“He texted you, too?”

“We tell each other everything, Namjoon. No secrets in this circle.” Jimin shrugs. 

“Mostly.” Taehyung nods. 

“Yeah, mostly.” Jimin agrees. 

“Mostly?” Namjoon raises an eyebrow. 

“Yeah,” Taehyung looks at him, “mostly.”

“Okay, it’s gone now. ‘Mostly’ has no more meaning.” Jimin throws his hands in the air in mock exasperation. 

“Mostly, mostly, mostly. Yeah. You’re right. It’s gone.” Taehyung agrees. 

“Okay, anyway,” Namjoon seizes the gap in conversation before the two can continue, “what’s your plan for the day? Are you helping at lunch?”

“Mm, no,” Jimin slides his dish of potatoes into the oven, “we went to morning service and helped with breakfast. We’re making dinner for this evening.”

“You went to morning Mass? At ass o’clock?” Namjoon raises his eyebrows. 

“I’m up at ass o’clock anyway,” Jimin shrugs, “might as well go. Tae and I are going to take naps and then help with dinner service before our own dinner.”

“We’re doing so much.” Taehyung rolls their shoulders. 

“We always either do too much or nothing at all, there’s no middle ground. This year we’re going with too much,” Jimin turns around and leans back against the kitchen counter, rolling his neck, “Tae. Nap time?”

“God, yes,” Taehyung transfers their dough to a baking sheet and covers it with cling wrap before turning to Namjoon and grinning, “merry Christmas, player.”

“Go to sleep, both of you.” Namjoon laughs and ushers them out of the kitchen.

Left to his own devices, he figures it may be helpful to clean up for them before cleaning himself up. He makes quick work of the mess they’ve left behind before hopping into the shower. He lets the hot water beat down on his back; he had barely even used his shoulders, how they were so sore was beyond him, but the strain brought another smile to his face, another flutter in his chest. 

Warm, relaxed, and content, he decides to lay down for a brief nap himself- it was his first Christmas with a roof over his head, he could afford himself the gift of a cozy nap. He climbs under his covers and sets his alarm for an hour, giving him plenty of time to re-awaken, have a snack, and cover his group counseling duties.

-

Snow is falling softly outside, the church is warm and dimly lit, candles in place of the usually bright overhead lights. Namjoon sits between Hoseok and Dawon; he feels a little awkward, a little out of place, but he’s strangely excited to see something that was important to most of his friends. 

“Just stand when everyone else stands, sing when everyone else sings, and sit when everyone else sits and you’ll be fine.” Hoseok assures him.

“Sing? I’m supposed to sing? I’d like to apologize in advance for that.” Namjoon laughs, just enough to mask the strange nervous feeling bubbling in his stomach.

“It can’t be worse than our dad,” Dawon leans forward to look at Hoseok, “and he was always the loudest one.”

“Mom always said he should put extra in the offering plate because it was so bad.” Hoseok laughs. Namjoon smiles, he likes to hear these little tidbits, glimpses into Hoseok’s life outside of what he already knew. Sometimes it occurred to him that many parts of Hoseok were still a mystery to him, he still had so much to learn. But it would come, in time.

Jungkook clears his throat from the front of the room, he’s neat and tidy, he looks so grown up, so official, so right up in front of what might one day be his congregation.

“Good evening, everyone. Please rise,” his voice carries over the room, “and open your pamphlet to page one.”

Namjoon stands along with everyone else, leaning in to look at Hoseok’s program with him. Hoseok smiles and scoots closer, angling the paper so Namjoon can see. 

“Do you know this one?” Hoseok points to the bolded text on the page.

“Silent Night? I think everyone knows that one.” 

“Okay good. At least you know that part.” 

Jungkook glances over his shoulder at Yoongi, who sits at the organ. Yoongi gives him a nod, Jungkook looks back out to the congregation and begins to lead the song. His voice is strong- powerful, even- and Namjoon is a little taken aback.

“Holy shit.” He feels his eyes widen, Hoseok elbows him in the side.

“Don’t curse in the church.” Hoseok leans in and whispers with a giggle.
“Oh sorry, sorry,” Namjoon ducks his head, leaning back in to read the lyrics on the page, “sorry.”

Dawon laughs from the other side of him, Hoseok giggles again, and it’s nice. He likes this church experience so far.

The song comes to a close and Father Kim takes his place at his podium. He smiles at Jungkook, obviously overcome with pride. Jungkook gives him a small bow and shuffles to stand behind him, his ears red, but he looks proud, too.

“Good evening, friends.” Father Kim greets them.

“Good evening, Father Kim.” The room responds in unison. Namjoon has to shake off the urge to slink away, tries to remind himself that this is important to Hoseok and he should go into it with an open mind like he would anything else.

“You may be seated.” Father Kim smiles, the congregation sits, and Father Kim begins the service.

At the end of it, he dismisses the congregation to dinner, and Jungkook immediately rushes back to them to chat.

“Hey, friends,” he grins, going in for hugs, “what did you think? Did I do alright?”

“You did great, Kook,” Dawon smoothes a chunk of his hair back down, “I think I might need your autograph.”

“Stop it,” He blushes, grinning despite himself, “not bad for a first Christmas service, huh?”

“I didn’t know you could sing like that,” Namjoon pats his shoulder, “I was kinda stunned.”

“Stunned enough to curse in the church.” Hoseok teases.

“Yoongi curses in church all the time.” Namjoon defends himself.

“Yoongi’s a godless heathen.” Father Kim approaches them, Yoongi at his side.

“It’s true.” Yoongi nods. 

“Thank you for coming,” Father Kim smiles at them, “will you join us for dinner?”

“For friendsmas? I don’t think I can,” Dawon sighs, “I’m leaving tomorrow morning, I really should pack.”

“Dawon, please?” Jungkook pouts.

“Pretty please?” Hoseok whines.

“Yeah, pretty pretty please?” Namjoon also pouts, but he’s not sure it’s very effective. Dawon rolls her eyes and gives a small smile, caving to the pressure.

“Fine, fine,” she laughs, “fine. You got me.”

“Ah, yes, yes,” Jungkook claps, “Father, can I go get changed and go help Tae and Jimin with dinner?”

“Go, go,” Father Kim waves him away, “thank you for your help today.”

“Thank you, Father,” Jungkook bows quickly, “see you soon!”

Namjoon watches him scurry away; Jungkook really was an oxymoron of a human. He was so adult, but obviously still a child; so mature, but with so much youth left in him. It tugged at his heartstrings, too hard sometimes. 

“Well,” Father Kim smiles, gesturing to the door, “as much as I love my work, I do not love that I am still standing in here when my day is done.”

“Oh, oh, right,” Namjoon laughs, “I’m going to go see if Tae and Jimin need help with dinner service. Yoongi, you coming?”

“Nope, no. Break time,” Yoongi plops down into one of the pews, stretching his arms over his head, “I’ve been working all day and I know they’re more than capable in there.”

“Father, can I help you with anything?” Hoseok asks, Father Kim looks at him for a long moment, then gives a small nod.

“Can you help me in my office, Hoseok?” 

“Yes,” Hoseok nods, “that sounds fine.”

They go their separate ways, Namjoon steps in line with Taehyung and Jimin, helping to serve out food and drinks and so many “Merry Christmas” wishes thay by the time all is said and done, the words “merry” and “Christmas” have completely lost all meaning. As dinner draws to a close, the volunteers shoo them off, insisting on them going and enjoying themselves, they’ve been working all day, and as much as they would like to argue, Taehyung and Jimin are no match for the group of women pushing them out the door. One of them goes so far as to kiss Taehyung and Jimin on their cheeks, giving an extra warm thank you before giving them one final push from the kitchen.

“Your mom is so funny.”Jimin pulls on his coat, flipping the fuzzy hood up.

“She’s something,” Taehyung sighs, pulling their beanie down over their ears, “I’m exhausted.”

“That was your mom?” Namjoon pouts, “No introduction?”

“What do you think, some random volunteer lady is just kissing our cheeks? Also,” Taehyung buttons their coat, “introductions are not at the top of my list on the busiest dinner night of the year.”

“Fair,” Namjoon shoves his hands in his pockets, “so. Friendsmas?”

“Friendsmas.” Jimin nods.

-

A few hours later, surrounded by dishes and wrapping paper, everyone lounges quietly, sleepily around Namjoon and Taehyung’s living room.

“Oh my god,” Taehyung yawns, “I am a whole potato.”

“Wake me up on New Years eve,” Jungkook groans, holding his stomach, sprawled out in the armchair “I’m gonna need at least until then to sleep this off.”
“I swear I’m never eating again,”Jimin shifts on the couch to tuck his feet under Taehyung’s thighs and rest his head on Yoongi’s shoulder, but he smiles, “what a great day, though.”

“Yeah, it really was.” Yoongi wraps an arm around Jimin.

“But all good things must come to an end,” Father Kim sighs, standing from his spot on the floor, “I’m going to bed, don’t bother me for at least 14 hours.”

“No one wants to talk to you anyway.” Jungkook teases, but stands as well, pulling his coat on.

“That’s our cue to leave,” Yoongi sighs, but Jimin refuses to budge, “or not.”

“Not.” Jimin grins, eyes closed.

“Can I get a ride home? I don’t want to walk in the snow.”Jungkook pouts to Yoongi, Jimin sighs and hoists himself up from the couch begrudgingly.

“Dawon, do you need a ride?” Jimin offers.

A round of good-byes are said, and a good half an hour later, all is quiet again. It’s peaceful in the apartment, just Taehyung, Namjoon, and Hoseok remaining.

“I really don’t want to do the dishes,” Taehyung groans, “I don’t have to do them. They’ll be there tomorrow. They’re not going anywhere. I’m not going to do them.”
“Who are you even arguing with?” Namjoon laughs.

“My own common sense. I’m going to bed,” Taehyung rises and shuffles sleepily toward their room, “night night!”

“Good night!” Hoseok and Namjoon call in unison.

“Can we go to bed too? I’m exhausted. I was up late last night.” Hoseok grins.

“I was too. Were you busy?” Namjoon grins back.

“Eh, a little.” Hoseok smirks.

“A little?!”

“Hmm, maybe quite a bit more than a little.”

They make their way to Namjoon’s bedroom, Hoseok changes into the pajamas he keeps there and is under the covers before Namjoon can even get changed. Namjoon slides in next to him, wrapping his arms tight around him, and presses a kiss to his neck.

‘What a great day.” Hoseok hums, content, and laces his fingers together with Namjoon’s.

“It really was,” Namjoon agrees, “thank you for sharing your church with me.”

“Thank you for giving it a try.”

“I’m willing to try almost anything.”
“Anything?”

“Almost.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Namjoon laughs softly and presses another kiss to Hoseok’s neck. 

“I really appreciate you wanting to share so much of your life with me. I know that since we’re boyfriends, that’s kind of what we’re supposed to do, but it really means a lot to me that you want to include me in things with your friends, and your family. I like being a part of your world.”

Hoseok is quiet, his breathing light.

“Hoseok?”

“Hmm?”

Namjoon smiles to himself.

“I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Chapter Text

The days following Christmas are a blur; from the tearful good-byes between Dawon and Hoseok to the influx of post-Christmas counseling appointments, Namjoon’s life is hectic and before he knows it, it’s New Years Eve.

“Now,” Father Kim sighs, rubbing his eyes, “we prep for the third busiest day of the year.”

“New Years day?” Namjoon cocks his head to the side, positioned across from Father Kim at the desk.

“People like to start the new year with a clean slate,” Father Kim nods, “which means lots of confessions.”

“It’s also the day that we see a lot of post-binge-drinking or post-drug-binge counseling. Relapses and first timers, you know? Or people who are just stuck on the memories. People who know us from safe use locations and needle exchanges.” Jungkook explains.

“Safe use houses? Aren’t those...not so legal?” Namjoon raises an eyebrow.

“The law, Namjoon, is often not aligned with what is best for the people,” Father Kim sighs, “above all, we want to offer a safe, clean place, a compassionate ear, and open arms. No one ever healed by being punished repeatedly for something that’s beyond their control.”

“Right, right, of course, I’m right there with you,” Namjoon nods, “but...don’t you worry about getting caught?”

“A risk we’re willing to take,” Jungkook shrugs, “it’s not the first time one of us would have been arrested for doing something righteous.”

“Really?” Namjoon laughs.

“Really,” Jungkook nods and takes a sip of his cappuccino, “ I think the only one of us who hasn’t been arrested is Father Kim.”

“I’m slippery when it comes to the law.” Father Kim shrugs.

“Sin of boasting.” Jungkook smirks.

“Sin of mockery.”

“Ah, damn it.” 

“Anyway,” Father Kim sits back in his chair, “we don’t do judgement here. We do love and compassion.”

“Right, right,” Jungkook nods enthusiastically, “but. It can be...a lot sometimes.”

“It can be, indeed. Which is why,” Father Kim pulls a book from his top drawer and makes a few notes inside of it before handing it off to Jungkook, who makes strangely direct eye contact with him and nods, “we need to make sure we’re taking care of ourselves, and each other. If you feel overwhelmed, if you feel despair, if you feel threatened, what do you do?”
“Tap out. Kindly pass the person along.” Jungkook responds, peering into the notebook Father Kim had him.

“And if you feel they’re in danger themselves?”

“Call for you or Namjoon immediately.”

“Wait, me? But,” Namjoon squawks, “I’m brand new.”

“You are very brand new,” Father Kim nods, “but. You are big. Much bigger than Jungkook. And older, as well. That gives you an edge in deescalating, if need be.”

“Deescalating?” Namjoon gulps.

“Unlikely that we’ll need it, but. You never know.” Jungkook shrugs.

“Okay,” Namjoon nods, “got it. Is there anything I should know?”

“Hmm,” Father Kim chews on the arm of his glasses, “no. I don’t think so. Business as usual, just. Much more busy.”

“Got it.”

“Good talk, team. I’m hungry,” Jungkook slams the notebook shut and pulls his hoodie on, “I’m gonna go see a Hobi about a calzone.”

“Can you see him about some garlic knots, too? And a Dr Pepper?” Father Kim reaches for his wallet.

“Aren’t you allergic to garlic?” Jungkook raises an eyebrow.

“Sometimes you suffer for what you love,” Father Kim shrugs, holding a twenty dollar bill out to Jungkook, “here. Take this.”

“No, no,” Jungkook pushes his hand away, “let me. Are you sure it’s okay if you get those, though? I don’t want--”

“It’s a very mild allergy, Kook. At the most I will be itchy. The heart- and the stomach- want what they want. If you can’t take me getting itchy and my skin blotching on your conscience, take my money.”

Jungkook pulls his mouth into a tight line, looking back and forth between Father Kim and the money extended out to him. With a sigh, he takes the bill and shoves it in his pocket.

“Fine.”

“And you need a real coat, Jungkook. You’ll catch your death in the hoodie.”

“I outgrew it.” Jungkook pouts. Father Kim sighs and pulls the donation closet keys from his desk.

“Go get another.” Father Kim holds the keys out.

“Father, I--”

“Jungkook. Go. Get. Another. Jacket.” 

Jungkook ducks his head and takes the keys, his ears and cheeks red.

“Thank you, Father.”

“I love you, Kook, please take care.”

Jungkook nods and bows again, avoiding eye contact with either of them as he leaves the room. Father Kim sighs heavily and rubs his face, he looks weary and tired. Namjoon closes his planner and sets it aside, crossing his arms on top of the desk.

“Father, are you okay?” He asks tentatively. Father Kim sits back in his chair, lets his head fall back, and stares at the ceiling.

“I am,” he sighs, bringing his head back down to look at Namjoon again, “I’m just very tired. And he worries me. He never asks for anything, no matter how bad he needs it. I mean, you know what it took for him to even seek help in the first place. I care about all of you, I love all of you, very much, and I know that most of you would come to me for help, if you needed it. But he’s stubborn, and he’s embarrassed. And that makes me worry.”

“Sin of pride?” Namjoon offers.

“You’re learning,” Father Kim smirks and reaches into the bottom drawer of his desk, retrieving two glasses and a bottle of whiskey, “good for you. Drink?”

“Are you, um, are you--”

“Allowed to? Yes, absolutely. I’m not about to get blitzed, but there’s nothing preventing me from enjoying a drink with a friend,” he pours himself a glass, then gestures to the empty one, “would you like?”

“Um, yeah,” Namjoon smiles and nods, “yeah, why not?” 

Father Kim smiles and pours him a glass, then slides it across the desk to him. The smell tickles Namjoon’s nose, it seems strong and Namjoon hasn’t really had much experience with anything more than beer and cheap wine.

“A mixer?” Father Kim laughs.

“I think that would be best.”

Father Kim stands from his chair and ducks into his bedroom, retrieving a soda and cracking it open, pouring some into each of their glasses.

“It’s only polite to be uniform with your drinks.” He raises his glass, Namjoon brings his glass up as well, they clink them together gently and Namjoon feels strangely grown-up. Namjoon takes a small, tentative sip; it’s more delicious than he expected it to be.

“That’s really good,” he takes another sip, “really, really good.”

“It was a birthday present from Yoongi, he’s got good taste,” Father Kim smiles and takes a sip of his as well, “always trust him to pick your drinks.”

“Noted.” Namjoon nods.

It’s silent for a moment, just the sound of cars moving slowly on the slush-covered road outside.

“How are you doing, Namjoon? Are you still comfortable in your apartment? Still happy in your counselling position?” Father Kim kicks his feet up on his desk. 

“I’m very comfortable in my apartment,” Namjoon sits back in his chair, “and very happy in my job. So thank you, for both of those.”

“No, no,” Father Kim waves his hand, “no thanks necessary. I offered these things, you chose to take them. Thank yourself for making moves.”

“Fair, I guess,” Namjoon nods, “then thank you for offering them.”

“Thank you for taking them.”

“We’re about to get stuck in a loop here.” Namjoon laughs.

“You’re probably right,” Father Kim laughs as well, “how about you and Hoseok?”

“We’re great,” Namjoon immediately breaks out into a grin, “we’re really, really wonderful. So wonderful it’s almost unbelievable.”

Father Kim looks at him silently for a moment, maybe just a second too long, before he smiles softly and takes another sip of his drink. 

But maybe Namjoon was seeing things. 

“I’m glad to hear that, Namjoon. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Hmm,” Namjoon thinks for a moment, “no. No, I don’t think so. I think I’m incredibly happy, Father.”

-

They’re gathered at Hoseoks’s apartment, snacks spread on and around the coffee table, drinks in hand, with only five minutes left in the year. It’s warm and cozy, it’s been a while since they’d all managed to get together, and they had grown so close that it was strange and uncomfortable to Namjoon when they went more than a few days without gathering. 

“Does anyone have any resolutions for the new year?” Jungkook asks, taking a sip of his absolutely not alcoholic slushie.

“I don’t really like resolutions,” Yoongi crinkles his nose, “I just like the new year.”

“I want to save more money,” Hoseok chimes in, “I’d like to have savings, maybe.”
“That’s a good one,” Jimin ponders for a moment, “mine is to get Yoongi to marry me.”

“Resolutions are supposed to be realistic, Chim.” Jungkook teases, Jimin tosses a pillow at him with a laugh.

“It’s gonna happen, one day,” Jimin pouts, looking over his shoulder at Yoongi, “right?”
“That ring isn’t on your finger for nothing.” Yoongi laughs, and Jimin accepts that for an answer with a smile and leans back to give him a quick kiss. 

Namjoon glances over to Hoseok, who’s deep in conversation with Jungkook, perched on the arm of the recliner that Jungkook is sitting in and laughing. It relaxes Namjoon’s heart a little; Hoseok had been in such a funk since Dawon had left, it was nice to see his bright smile and hear his laughter again.

“One minute!” Father Kim waves his phone in the air, Hoseok hops off of the arm of the chair and flips his TV on to one of the many stations broadcasting the ball drop.

“Everyone,” Jimin raises his drink and stands from the couch, “it’s been a year. I’m glad we’re all here together. I love you all so much. Cheers.”

The others stand and clink their glasses together, throwing their drinks back. 

The countdown begins and the couples drift closer to each other, preparing for the inevitable customary midnight kiss. Hoseok slides his way over to Namjoon and smiles up at him, his cheeks flushed, his eyes glassy, the couple of drinks he’d had hitting him hard, but in a warm, bubbly way, and Namjoon’s heart flutters.

“5! 4!” Father Kim counts down.

“3! 2!” Everyone chimes in.

“Happy new year!” Jungkook shouts with a clap as Namjoon pulls Hoseok in close and kisses his liquor-sweet lips, an act that’s a bit of a struggle through their smiles, but they clumsily manage it. Hoseok pulls back and smiles up at him again.

“Happy new year, Namjoonie.” 

“Happy new year, Hobi.”

-

It’s the end of the first day of the new year, and Namjoon is absolutely dead on his feet. He plops down into one of the chairs in the all-purpose room, bleary-eyed and braindead.

“I can’t do any more,” he blinks, “I can’t do one more counsel.”

“Can I get you anything? I need something hot, I feel like I swallowed a thousand razorblades.” Yoongi rubs his throat and swallows hard. 

“I can make some tea,” Jimin offers, “I’m sure Father Kim could use it after all the confessions he heard today, too.”

“That would be wonderful.” Yoongi sighs, reaching out to pull Jimin into a hug. 

Namjoon watches them, and that wave of protectiveness washes over him again; Jimin had done an unofficial counseling earlier that day with Jungkook, and Yoongi with Taehyung- which was no kind of official in any sense of the word- and Namjoon hoped that they were well and happy and that the new year would bring them all of the good that they deserved. 

“Namjoon,” Jungkook interrupts his thoughts, poking his head into the room on his way out for the night, “don’t forget that you have to sign your timesheet.”

“Oh my god,” Namjoon looks at the clock, “I just signed that.”

“Yeah, last week. That was last week.”

“Seven whole days ago?”

“Yeah, that’s a week.”

“Fuck,” Namjoon hoists himself up from his chair, “I don’t even know if I know my own name right now.”

“It’s Namjoon. Just go sign it.” Jungkook slaps the door frame as he turns to leave. 

“Damn, what was that?” Namjoon scoffs as he stacks his chair in the corner. 

“The kid’s got a lot on his plate,” Yoongi adds his chair to the stack, “don’t forget that he is just a kid. I’m sure he heard a lot today that got to him. He’s sensitive and doesn’t quite have the defense built up that you and Father Kim do.”

“That’s why he’s still on the sidelines, mostly,” Jimin chimes in as he hands Yoongi’s tea over, “he’s tough and he’s lived a lot of life already, we all have, but he’s still just a kid. He’s got a long way to go.”

“Fair point,” Namjoon nods, feeling slightly shamed, “I guess I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“Well, try to keep it in mind.” Yoongi raises an eyebrow. 

Namjoon feels a little indignant, a little scolded, and he bristles a bit at Yoongi’s tone. 

“I’ll do my best.” Namjoon asserts, with probably a little more bite to it than was really necessary. 

“Hey, hey,” Jimin puts his hand out, “come on. We’re tired, you’re tired. Let just breathe, relax, and try to decompress.”

Yoongi shoots Namjoon another look, but chooses not to push the matter any further, much to Namjoon’s relief. Instead, he turns to Jimin, face and voice flat. 

“Can we go?”

“Yeah, let’s. Good night, Namjoon.” Jimin sighs, turning on his heel and leaves the room like he’ll die if he doesn’t, Yoongi hot on his heels.

Namjoon rolls the tension from his shoulders; he’s tired, burnt out, done with the day. Just one more task and he can hit the bed like a sack of bricks. He turns off the lights and closes the door behind him, heavy on his feet as he shuffles his way down the hall toward Father Kim’s office. He knocks softly, there’s no answer despite the sliver of light coming from under the door, signaling that Father Kim is in there. He knocks again, a little louder, this time he’s welcomed in. 

He pops his head in, Father Kim is sitting behind his desk, glasses pushed on top of his head, in his pajamas, Hoseok seated across from him. Both look exhausted, just as ready to crawl into bed as Namjoon is. 

“Oh, Hoseok! I didn’t expect to see you here.” Namjoon grins, letting himself in. 

“Just chatting,” Hoseok smiles back, moving his bag from the chair next to him so Namjoon can sit, “how was your day?”

Namjoon leans in for a quick kiss and plops down in the chair.

“It...was. It was.” He nods. 

“That it was,” Father Kim agrees, “what can I do for you, Namjoon?”

“Timesheet.” 

“Ah, timesheet.” Father Kim pulls Namjoon’s file from his lowest drawer and slides it across the desk. Namjoon flips to the last page and lazily scribbles his signature, closes it again, and slides it back. 

“That’s all,” Namjoon shrugs with a weary smile before turning to Hosoek, “coming home?”

“I’m just going to grab a snack and lock up for Father Kim and then I’ll be home.”

“I can wait.”

“No, no, don’t worry,” Hoseok rubs Namjoon’s shoulder, “you should head home. You look so tired.”

“I am,” Namjoon nods, standing from his seat, “but are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Go home. I know my way there. I’ll just come crawl in your bed when I’m done.”

“I love you,” Namjoon kisses the top of Hoseok’s head, “and good night, Father.”

“Good night, Namjoon, thank you for your efforts today.”

“Thank you, Father,” Namjoon gives a small bow on his way out, “see you soon, Hobi.”

“Love you!” Hoseok grins. 

Namjoon thinks he might keel over on his way back to the apartment. The living room light is left on and the heat still turned up for him, and he’s grateful for Taehyung’s existence as he kicks his shoes off, tosses his jacket over the back of the couch while vowing to pick up the next afternoon. He splashed water on his face and does the poorest job brushing his teeth he’d done since he’d first learned how. 

He pulls his clothes off as he enters his room, not having a semblance of concern for where they land, flings his covers back, and is asleep the moment his head hits the pillow. 

Chapter Text

January comes and goes, less than eventful. Namjoon is settling in comfortably in his position as counselor, finding a stride and sticking with it. He learns a bit more each day, gains more confidence and more skill, and begins some independent studying with the less-than-casual intent of maybeperhapspossibly going back to school to pursue his Master’s degree, and finally check at least one of the things he’d meant to accomplish with his life. 

Before he knows it, they’re nearly halfway into February and time is flying by like a plastic bag in a hurricane. 

“So,” Jimin taps his nails on the outside of his coffee mug, “what did you get Hobi?”

“What?” Namjoon acknowledges that Jimin has spoken to him, though he’s not sure exactly what he said, because he’s not actually listening.

“What did you get Hobi?”
“For what?”

“For what?” Jimin repeats with a scoff. Namjoon lifts his head from his book, Jimin is sitting on the other end of his couch, coffee mug gripped tightly in his hands, an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, for what?”

“It’s February 12th, Namjoon.”

“Oh fuck,” Namjoon slams his book closed, “Valentine’s.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And?”

“Oh my god, did you really already forget his birthday?”

“Oh, fuck again.”

“Yeah.” Jimin grimaces.

Namjoon runs a hand down his face and sets his book aside, trying to tamp down the mild panic rising in his chest.

“Okay,” he takes a deep breath, “alright. So let’s start at the top. Valentine’s day. I’ve never bought a Valentine’s gift before. Not for a boyfriend, anyway. What do you get a boyfriend? What do you get a boyfriend? What does your boyfriend get you ?”

“Are you trying to piggyback off of Yoongi’s romance, Namjoonie?” Jimin teases.

“Listen, I don’t have a lot to go on here.”

Jimin laughs and nods, setting his mug aside to pull out his phone.

“This,” Jimin shows Namjoon a photo of a cabin, “is what we got each other this year.”

“You bought a house?”

“Oh my god, no,” Jimin scoffs as if it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard, “we rented a cabin for a getaway. Just us, the quiet, some wine, some noodles, lots and lots of…”

“Okay okay,” Namjoon waves his hands, “I get it. So no gifts?”

“I mean, we’ll probably get each other chocolates and pick a nice bottle of wine for each other but experiences are so much better than things.”

Namjoon nods thoughtfully.

“Experiences. That makes sense.”

“But,” Jimin grimaces again, “it’s February 12th. Yoongi reserved this place in late December. I doubt you could find something so late.”

“Ah, damn it,” Namjoon rubs his tired eyes, “I hate the passage of time.”

“Maybe get a calendar? So you don’t forget things like oh, I don’t know, your boyfriend’s birthday.”

“Okay, okay, not helpful,” Namjoon sighs and rolls his neck, “I just need to figure out what to do.”

“Well, the one thing that you have working in your favor is that there’s no way Hobi won’t be working on Valentine’s day. So that buys you some time.”

“Is a pizza place really that busy on Valentine’s?”

“Jackson’s place is always busy, and I’m sure it’s special to a lot of people because it’s their first date spot or something like that. You and Hobi met right outside of it, that makes it special for you.  There’s a little sushi place that looks unassuming but is special to me and Yoongi because we’d go there on dates so long ago. So it makes it romantic.”

“I guess I didn’t think that pizza could be romantic.”

“You have no imagination.”

“Are you gonna insult me all night or are you going to help me dig my way out of this?”

-----

Namjoon paces the small space back and forth across the kitchen, waiting for the tell-tale sounds of Hoseok stirring down the hallway; the creak of the bedroom door, the shuffle across the hall, running water, flushing toilet. He glances at the clock again, dumbfounded that somehow only a minute had passed since he last looked. 

Finally, he hears the sounds, and scrambles to lay the breakfast spread out on the coffee table- two cups of coffee, scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon, all prepared with the help of Taehyung who quickly made themselves scarce for the morning. Hoseok shuffles down the hall toward him- his hair is fluffy, his clothes are sleep-ruffled, and he looks absolutely beautiful.

“Good morning.”Namjoon smiles at him.

“Good morning.” Hoseok yawns, seeming not to have noticed the feast yet. He stands on slight tiptoe to plant a kiss on Namjoon’s cheek.

“Did you sleep well?” Namjoon flattens one of Hoseok’s cowlicks.

“I did, I’ve been so-- oh! What’s this?” Hoseok looks up at him with wide eyes.

“Happy birthday.” Namjoon grins and takes a seat next to him. 

“You did this? For me?” Hoseok put his hand on his heart, looking delighted.

“Well, Tae helped,” Namjoon rubs the back of his neck, “but yeah. All the classics are here.”

“Coffee first, please.” 

“Of course,” Namjoon reaches for Hoseok’s mug, “milk or sugar?”

“Sugar.” Hoseok nods, Namjoon retrieves the sugar from the kitchen for him. Hoseok takes the first sip and sighs with satisfaction.

“Caffeine is necessary for humans to live.” Hoseok says with great sincerity.

“I believe that to be true,” Namjoon nods and takes his own coffee, which by all rights is actually milk and sugar with some coffee mixed in, “so there’s eggs, toast, bacon, and of course we have all the other stuff in the kitchen.

“Oh!” Hoseok exclaims, “do you have jam? And butter?”

“Um,” Namjoon is slightly taken aback by the sudden enthusiasm, “probably?”

“Okay, hold on, I’ll be right back.”

Hoseok returns with butter, jam, and a few crucial things Namjoon had forgotten- plates and silverware.

“Oh, that would have been smart of me to bring.” Namjoon laughs.

“It’s okay,” Hoseok hands a plate over to him, “I’m going to make you the best toast in the world now. Just hold your plate on your lap.”

“You know I’ll eat anything you cook.”

“Be careful what you say,” Hoseok laughs and picks a thick piece of toast, “I might make something terrible one day.”

“I’d still eat it,” Namjoon watches as Hoseok spreads butter on the toast, then jam, “just because you made it.”

“You flatter me, Namjoon,” Hoseok blushes, placing the toast on Namjoon’s plate. Namjoon starts to pick it up, but Hoseok grabs his wrist gently, “no no, I’m not done.”

Hoseok piles on scrambled eggs and finishes with a slice of bacon diagonally across the top before sitting back with a grin on his face.

“Good?” Namjoon asks.

“Yeah, go ahead.” 

“Do I fold it or just bite it?”

“You do you.” Hoseok shrugs.

Namjoon folds the toast in half as best he can and takes a bite. It’s salty and sweet and fluffy and crispy and maybe it’s the toast equivalent of Hoseok himself, perhaps.

“Mmm,” Namjoon nods and swallows, “delicious.”

“It’s my favorite. It makes me happy no matter what.” Hoseok grins as he assembles his own. 

When their plates are cleared and their stomachs are full, Hoseok checks the time on his phone and sighs, a pout on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Namjoon pouts back.

“I have to get ready for work.” 

“Oh, no, you don’t.”

“What?” Hoseok cocks his head to the side, brow furrowed.

“No, you’re off today.”

“No,” Hoseok shakes his head, “it’s Saturday.”
“Yeah, and you’re off. Don’t worry, I took care of it.”

“Namjoonie,” Hoseok grins, “you big sneak.”

“Surprise,” Namjoon shrugs and tries to hide the blush that creeps up onto his cheeks, “but. I do have plans for us today. We’ll go at your pace, this is your day, but I’m ready when you are.”

------

It’s cold out, being that it’s February, but they’re bundled up against the frosty air and the buildings around them are blocking the wind, at least.

“Did you have to be born in the winter?” Namjoon teases, shoving his hands deep into his coat pockets.

“I like the cold,” Hoseok inhales deeply, the tip of his nose and the apples of his cheeks tinted red from the cold, “I overheat really easy. This is nice.”

They walk the final blocks in silence, Hoseok’s naturally fast-paced footsteps keeping him firmly in time with Namjoon’s surely-I’m-freezing-to-death strides. Namjoon fumbles to get his phone from his pocket as they approach the entrance- a tall, seafoam green archway that’s kind of garish, if Namjoon’s being honest, but Hoseok looks delighted as he hustles forward and stands beneath it, arms raised in a V above his head, a grin threatening to split his face in two. Namjoon laughs and his heart soars, he takes a quick picture before willing his stubborn, frozen fingers to open the app with the tickets. Yoongi had not-so-patiently taught him how to use the app and he was going to be damned if he would fail at using it on his own, as if Yoongi could somehow see his struggle.

They approach the lady in the ticket booth, Namjoon holds up his phone to allow her to scan their barcodes, and they’re on their way.

“What do you want to see first, Hobi?” Namjoon asks as he plucks a map from a slot on the wall and scans it- the span of the aquarium is bigger than Namjoon could have ever thought it would be and he’s a little overwhelmed with it.

“Here,” Hoseok leans into him and taps the paper decisively, “the reef room.”

And off to the reef room they go, trekking across the expansive campus alongside all of the excited children and their equally excited parents. Namjoon hasn’t been integrated with the world in such a way in a long, long time; used to being invisible or sneered at, so much so that he made the world around him invisible. Looking around now, at the colors of the reefs and the people experiencing them with him, he feels a slight mourning for the loss of time. His eyes fall onto Hoseok, close to the glass, snapping pictures of the rays flapping by, cringing when a Moray Eel wiggles past, bright green and yeah, a little unsettling. Hoseok turns to him, eyes bright and wide.

“Where to next?” Namjoon asks.

“The sea cliffs?”

“The sea cliffs.”

The sea cliffs- unfortunately outdoors- features tubby, happy penguins waddling back and forth across the manufactured rock face, content to eat the fish tossed to them and slide their way down into the water. 

“Look!” Hoseok points excitedly, “a sea otter!” 

At his signal, several children and their parents gather around as well, cooing and adoring the lazily-floating creature. Hoseok does his best to take a selfie with the otter in the background, and whether he succeeded or not, he was the cutest thing in the world in the process. He grins and makes his way back to Namjoon, reaching for the map stuffed into Namjoon’s pocket.

“Where do you want to go?” Hoseok asks, opening the map and doing his best to smooth it out.

“Me? This is your birthday, though.”

“Yeah, and you’re not my chaperone, you’re my boyfriend, and I’m asking you where you want to go next.”

“Hmm,” Namjoon peers over the map, struggling a bit to read it upside down, but he knows symbols when he sees them, “there. The sharks.”

“Ooh,” Hoseok shivers, “scary. Let’s go!”

He takes Namjoon by the hand and tugs him through the crowd shifting from one exhibit to another, and into the dim building, an arched glass ceiling overhead. They’re flanked by a coral reef display, bright and colorful fish flitting back and forth, the occasional turtle lumbering past.

“Oh look look,” Hoseok grabs his arm, pointing above them, “what’s that one?”

“I think, ” Namjoon squints, “it’s a reef shark? Black-Tipped Reef Shark?”

“It’s cute.”

“It is.”

“I want one.”

“I would do a lot for you, Hobi,” Namjoon laughs, “but I’m not smuggling a shark out of here.”

“Some birthday this is.” Hoseok fake-pouts, but he can only hold it for a moment before they giggle together.

They make their way down the tunnel, through the winding halls with glass cases showcasing shark jaws, podiums featuring 3D renderings of shark heads, tanks filled with Rays and Nurse Sharks and an innumerable number of non-distinct schools of fish glittering in the low light. This exhibit is clearly one of the most popular, as they near the end it gets more and more difficult to see anything, and neither Hoseok or Namjoon are in the habit of knocking over small children to get a glimpse of some fish.

They emerge into the daylight, blinking hard to adjust their vision, and refer to the map again.

“One last stop?” Namjoon asks.

“The jellyfish?” Hoseok’s eyes light up.

“The jellyfish.”

Hoseok takes his hand and guides him through the crowd yet again, the smell of the food cart tickling his nose and reminding him that he hasn’t eaten in hours, but Hoseok is too enthusiastic and determined to get to the jellyfish, Namjoon can’t bring himself to pump the breaks.

It’s getting closer to closing time and the crowds are thinning out a bit as they enter the exhibit, surrounded by what are definitely some of the more odd creatures that the sea has to offer.

“You see that?” Hoseok points to a large glass tube with a particularly large and cranky looking crab inside, leading Namjoon toward it.

“The giant nightmare spider thing?” Namjoon reads the plaque at the base of the tube, “Japanese spider crab?”
“Yeah, Jimin loves these things. Wants to hug one.”

“What?”

“Yeah, like, would risk life and limb to hug it.”

“Weird.”

“RIght?”

Hoseok tugs him along to another giant tube, filled with rocks, a hole at the base that’s just big enough to get into- probably much easier if you’re a child- but Hoseok manages it and pops his head up into the dome, calling out to Namjoon.

“There’s an octopus!” He exclaims.

“Giant Pacific Octopus!” Namjoon reads the plaque and calls back to him.

“Oh it’s so big,” Hoseok scrambles out of the cubby, “so suckery.”

“DId you know,” Namjoon takes Hoseok’s hand and leads him down the dimly lit hall, passing the cuttlefish- which are more adorable than they have any right to be- towards the jellyfish, “that you could swallow a whole octopus live, and it would go through your intestines without doing you any harm?

“Um, no, I can’t imagine swallowing a giant octopus. I don’t think it would let me get to the swallowing point.”

“Okay, okay,” Namjoon laughs, “that’s a fair point.”

They turn the corner and are greeted with floor-to-ceiling glass, jellyfish floating slowly, peacefully, seeming to glow under the lights. Hoseok’s jaw drops and he stares, slowly approaching the glass. Namjoon follows behind, watching him watch the animals.

“Wow.” Hoseok mutters, a little breathless. Namjoon saddles up beside him.

“They’re beautiful.” 

Hoseok reaches out and touches the glass, scanning the seemingly vast expanse of indoor water, his eyes tracing the motions of whichever jellyfish was his chosen subject. Namjoon takes the opportunity to take a picture of him, the blue light and the waves at the surface filtering through the glass and reflecting on his face, the absolute definition of amazement.

He’s beautiful. Namjoon couldn’t care a bit about looking at the jellyfish- he wants to look at Hoseok looking at the jellyfish for the rest of his life. He wonders if he looks at Hoseok like Hoseok looks at the jellyfish.

“Namjoon,” Hoseok turns to him, “selfie with the jellyfishies?”

“Absolutely.”

They snap a few, at different angles, with different jellies behind them, ending in one with Hoseok planting a kiss firmly on Namjoon’s cheek.

“Joon,” Hoseok suddenly clutches his stomach, “I’m so hungry.”

---

They wander their way down the boardwalk towards a restaurant the Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung highly recommended- and if the three of them could all agree, it couldn’t be wrong.

It’s the off-season so they’re seated quickly, menus handed off and they’re left to make their decisions. Namjoon quickly realizes that Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung must be much, much cooler than him, because the menu- while exciting- was a far cry from anything he had ever had before.

“What are you getting?” Namjoon peeks over his menu at Hoseok.

“Hmm,” Hoseok scans the menu again, “onion rings...and grilled cheddar...and water.”

“Cheddar with bacon, onion, butter and fig? That’s an experience.”

“It’s my birthday, let’s go for something new.” Hoseok shrugs.

“You’re right,” Namjoon nods, “I’ll do...basket of fries, and the Kobe beef hot dog...and the I Remember My First Check-In for my beer. You want a beer?”

“Um…” Hoseok taps his lips with his finger and looks a little more torn about the question than he probably should, “hmm, no. Just water is fine.”

They place their orders, and despite Hoseok’s protests, he does try a few sips of Namjoon’s beer and looks thoroughly impressed. They watch the sun sink below the horizon as they finish their meals, full and satisfied.

“You know,” Namjoon says thoughtfully as they stroll down the street, “I need something sweet.”

“I was just thinking that.” Hoseok agrees.

“I know a place. Follow me.”

Namjoon leads Hoseok to one of his favorite childhood spots, a famous candy shop where he used to spend any of his allowance anytime he was lucky enough to come to Coney Island with his aunt.

“Wowwie,” Hoseok eyes the rows of candy apples, “how to choose?”

“Follow your heart. My heart says red candy apple with peanuts.”

“My heart says...hmm,” Hoseok weighs his options heavily, “my heart says walnut caramel marshmallow balls.”

“Excellent.”

When their sweet tooths are satisfied, and their hands are sticky, they make their way back to the subway, snow beginning to fall slowly around them. Hoseok leans against Namjoon, yawning occasionally, and Namjoon puts an arm around him, holding him close as they walk in time.

They have to stand on the train, and there are several times when Namjoon is sure Hoseok is about to hit the ground in a dead-sleep, but they make it to their stop, where Namjoon calls for an uber despite the peak time surcharge and Hoseok grabs some hot chocolate for them while they pass the time.

Hoseok falls asleep with his head on Namjoon’s shoulder in the back of the Uber, warm and heavy against Namjoon’s side.

It’s a short ride home, and Namjoon has to practically scoop Hoseok out of the car like a child. He thanks the driver and helps Hoseok sleepily navigate the slick staircase up to their floor.

“My place or yours?” Namjoon whispers into Hoseok’s hair.

“Yours.”

They make their way to Namjoon’s apartment, spilling in the door and kicking their shoes off in the entry way.

“Welcome home,” Taehyung calls from their bedroom, door wide open, “I have tea for you!”

“Thank you!” Namjoon and Hoseok call back in unison.

Hoseok plops on the couch and rolls his shoulders, Namjoon ruffles his hair.

“Think you can make it while I shower?” Namjoon laughs.

“Make it quick?”

“Got it.”

Namjoon makes fast work of cleaning up, then giving Hoseok his turn. He pours their tea and makes his way back to the bedroom, where Hoseok is already sitting in bed, towel-drying his hair. Namjoon hands the mug of tea over and climbs in with him, Hoseok curls into his side and rests his head on Namjoon’s shoulder.

“Namjoonie?”

“Hmm?”

“That was the best birthday I’ve had in a very long time.”

“I’m glad I could give it to you.”

Hoseok shifts position to look up at him, tired but content.

“I love you.” 

“I love you.”

“I can’t be awake anymore.”

“Me either. Let’s do the sleep thing.”

“Let’s.”

Namjoon discards their mugs to the side table and clicks off the lamp, pulling Hoseok close to him and stealing the warmth radiating from him. 

“Next time,” Hoseok mumbles as he’s drifting away, “let’s do the zoo.”

“The zoo would be great.”

“Good night, Namjoon. Love you so much.”

“Good night, Hobi. Love you so much.

Chapter Text

“I think I saw a whole ray of sunshine yesterday,” Jungkook folds a towel and sets it on the ever-growing stack beside him, “like, there was a break in the clouds for almost an entire minute.”

“That’s my cue to start to stay inside again.” Yoongi drops another bunch of towels on the pile in front of Jungkook, who sighs heavily at his seemingly never-ending task.

“A bit of the sun does you good, Yoongi,” Jiming buries his hands in the still-warm bundle of terry cloth, an expression on his face somewhere between relief and disgust “god, I hate the way these towels feel.”

“The sun does you good, with your nice skin, I crisp up like a pork rind,” Yoongi plucks up a towel and helps in the folding, “and if you hate them, why are you touching them? You’re right though.”

“Cold hands.” Jimin pouts.

“What day is it, anyway?” Namjoon lifts his head from his text book and glances at his phone, “March?”

“March, indeed.” Yoongi nods.

“And three days until your birthday!” Taehyung exclaims, pushing their way through into the laundry room with their hip, a stack of plastic laundry bins clutched tightly in their hands.

“Hmm, yeah.” Yoongi nods again.

“It’s your birthday soon? Why didn’t I know that?” Namjoon closes his textbook and hoists himself up off of the floor, joining the others at the table.

“Because you don’t listen.” 

“I listen! Sometimes!” Namjoon scoffs, grabbing a stack of folded towels and placing them in one of the bins that Taehyung had laid out on the table.

“Jungkookie,” Taehyung plucks a towel from his hands, mid-fold, “go home.”

“But we’re almost done!” Jungkook protests. Taehyung looks from the mountain of towels, to Jungkook, and back again, their face flat and skeptical.

“We are not.” Jimin shakes his head and takes over a portion of the pile.

“Go home,” Father Kim scolds him as he enters the room, cleaned and pressed robes slung over his arm, “I don’t know what you get out of staying here to do laundry duty. And take these with you.”

Jungkook folds one last towel in defiance before rising from the table and taking his robes from Father Kim’s arm, slinging them over his shoulder.

“Thank you, Father. It’s a pain in the ass to clean these myself.” 

“Maybe don’t get crud all over them next time?”

“No promises.”

“Go home, Jungkook.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jungkook rolls his eyes before ducking out of the door, “good night, everyone!”

“Wait, almost everyone,” Namjoon realizes, glancing at the clock, “Jesus, the time.”

“The lord’s name, Namjoon,” Father Kim chastises as he looks at his own phone, “but wow, it is late.”

Namjoon pulls his phone from his pocket; no calls, no texts. It’s odd.

“What day is it?” Namjoon asks again.

“Thursday,” Taehyung answers with a wistful sigh, “the last day before spring break.”

“Thursday. Hmm.” Namjoon furrows his brow and opens his text thread with Hoseok. His last text had been 5 PM, over seven hours earlier. 

“Is everything okay?” Jimin asks, sliding up beside him.

Hey

Haven’t heard from you in a while

Did you get stuck late?

“Hmm? Oh,” Namjoon nods, “yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine.”

They continue to work their way through the pile, the teamwork reducing it steadily now, but Namjoon is distracted, the conversation about Yoongi’s birthday party only background noise as he focuses on the feeling of his phone in his pocket, waiting not-so-patiently to feel it vibrate.

“It’s always sushi, not that I’m complaining,” Jimin bumps Yoongi’s hip with his, “I just wish you’d let anyone else pay. It’s your birthday, Yoongi. Your birthday. ”

“Yeah, and my birthday party is more for everyone else than me, so. I do what I want. I prefer it my way.”

“Stubborn.”

“Me? You.”

“Wow, sharp.”

“Shut it.” Yoongi smirks and places a completed stack of towels to the side. 

Namjoon anxiously checks his phone again. Nothing. It’s getting too late at this point.

“Joon,” Taehyung calls, “Joon. Namjoon!”

“Huh?”

“Are you sure everything is okay?”

“Um,” Namjoon looks up from his phone, “did you happen to see Hoseok at all today?”

“Hmm,” Taehyung hums, “I left before he was up, I think. Why? Have you not heard from him today?”

“I did, I did, it’s just been a while,” Namjoon rubs at the back of his neck, “his shift ended like...an hour ago and he hasn’t been in and he hasn’t texted.”

“Well, he knew we were tackling this laundry tonight,” Jimin plops the final towel down in a dangerously-full basket, “maybe he thought it best not to bother us?”

“Hmm, maybe,” Namjoon chews his lip, “do you mind if I head out?”

“Go, we’re done,” Father Kim waves him away, “but grab the trash on your way out.”

Namjoon grumbles his way through the trash collection, but he does it anway; every second that passes he gets a little more anxious, waiting for the buzzbuzz  of his phone, but it’s not coming. He tosses the over-full bag into the dumpster with all the grace of a mafia man disposing of a body and hustles double-time to his apartment. 

It’s empty. His stomach is sour. He takes a breath and locks up again, the incredibly small expanse between his door and Hoseok’s door seems longer than it’s ever been. He fumbles with the key, his nerves getting the best of him. What if he wasn’t in there? Where would he be? Where could he be?

He’s there. Asleep. On his couch. In his uniform.

Namjoon feels simultaneously releived and so, so stupid. He slips out of his shoes and closes the door behind him as quietly as he can, not realizing just how hard he had been breathing. He creeps slowly to the couch and crouches down in front of Hoseok, gently brushing his hair off of his forehead.

“Hey,” Namjoon whispers, “Hobi. Hey.”

“Hmm?” Hoseok’s eyebrows furrow, but his eyes remain closed. He’s sweaty, maybe feverish. Namjoon frowns and strokes his cheek.

“Hoseok, babe,” Namjoon whispers again, a little louder this time, “wake up.”

“Huh?” Hoseok’s eyes slide open, fuzzy and unfocused. He blinks hard, one, two, three times before he looks aware and pushes himself up onto his elbow, 

“Hey. Good morning.”

“Oh, Joonie. Hey,” Hoseok smiles, lopsided, “I guess I crashed.”

“Looks like it,”Namjoon laughs, “you okay?”

“Um,” Hoseok sits upright and rubs his eyes, pouting, “I was okay. Puked near the end of the shift. Passed out. Jackson brought me home. Made me tea. Gave me aspirin. Made me rest.”

“Oh, no,” Namjoon strokes his hair, “let’s get you in bed, okay? Get you rested up.”

Hoseok nods sleepily and holds his hand out, Namjoon pulls him up gently.

“Did you get to brush your teeth before you fell asleep?” Namjoon asks as he walks Hoseok to the bedroom.

“Yeah,” Hoseok rolls his shoulders, “I at least got that far.”

“I’m glad Jackson could bring you home.”

“He’s the best boss ever, you know?” Hoseok pulls his uniform off and tosses it away, he must be feeling horrible if he’s not keeping tidy.

“He really is. I’m sure Father Kim put you with him exactly for that reason.”

“He understands, you know? Like,” Hoseok pulls on a pair of soft pajamas and gropes lazily around his dresser for a shirt, “there’s nothing that, you know. He doesn’t, um. Get? No explanations needed and no judgement just. A good friend. A good, good friend.”

“Sounds like the perfect person to be a boss.” Namjoon lifts the covers, Hoseok slides into bed and sinks into the pillows.

“He’s like if Father Kim made pizza instead of being a priest. He’s like that.” Hoseok nods.

“I think you’re right,” Namjoon laughs, undressing and climbing into bed, “let’s rest, okay? It’s very late.”

“I didn’t get to shower. I’m so sticky.”

“We’ll worry about it in the morning. Let’s just get you feeling better.”

“I hope I do in the morning.”

“Me, too.”

-

Unfortunately, that is not what comes to pass. 

Namjoon does his best to keep his breathing steady as he presses a cold cloth to the back of Hoseok’s neck; he’s burning up, dry heaving, and ghostly pale. Namjoon checks his phone for the millionth time in the last ten minutes, Jimin’s “I’m on my way” text staring him in the face. He knows he woke him up, he knows it’s 5 AM. He knows it takes time to get there. He knows he should be patient but he’s on the verge of vomiting himself. 

“Joon,” Hoseok groans, resting his head on his arm, slung over the toilet seat, “I’m so thirsty.”

“I know,” Namjoon rubs his back, reaching up onto the sink and grabbing the bottle of water he’d had the foresight to grab in the blind rush to the bathroom, “here. Sip this.”

“Gonna puke if I do.” Hoseok pouts, tears streaming down his cheeks. Namjoon hears the front door open and close again, the shuffle of shoes being removed, and footsteps down the hall. Jimin peeks into the bathroom, Yoongi peeks over his shoulder. 

“Hey,” Jimin pants, “I’m here. We’re here.”

“Hey,” Namjoon sighs, “thank you for coming.”

“What’s up? What’s going on?” Jimin removes his scarf and takes a seat on the floor next to Hoseok, the bathroom is cramped but he doesn’t seem to care, the only focus of the moment is Hoseok, “Hobi, honey, you okay?”

“Mm-mmm,” Hoseok gags, “no.”

“Does he need to go to the hospital?” Yoongi looks to Namjoon as Jimin fusses over Hoseok.

“I think so.” Namjoon grimaces.

“No,” Hoseok whines, “I don’t want to go. We can take care of it here.”

“Hobi, Joonie told me you’re up over 103,” Jimin rests his hand on Hoseok’s forehead, “you gotta go. It’s dangerous.”

“Come on, Hobi,” Yoongi crouches in the doorway, resting his hand on Hoseok’s back, “let’s get you in the car.”

“Okay,” Hoseok nods, pushing himself up off of the floor with shaky arms, Yoongi hooks his arms under his armpits and helps him stand.

“Jimin,” Yoongi gestures to the living room with his head, “will you get him a coat and a trashbag?”

“On it.” Jimin rises from the floor and squeezes past them.

“Joonie.” Hoseok sighs, “will you come with me?”

“Of course,” Namjoon rises from the floor as well, “of course I will.”

Hoseok nods as Yoongi tentatively lets him stand on his own, not far behind should he decide to collapse. Jimin returns with a coat, a scarf, fuzzy socks and a handful of trashbags. 

“Okay,” He nods, “let’s go to the hospital.”

---

Jimin sits beside Namjoon in the waiting room, head resting against the armrest of the couch they’re occupying, eyes fixated on his phone as he updates their friends as best as he can. They don’t know much at the moment, just that Hoseok had finally been taken into triage after a couple of frustrating hours waiting. Namjoon was understanding of the fact that, yes, they were in an emergency room in New York, there were plenty of other people who took priority over Hoseok’s condition. However, Hoseok was his boyfriend and he needed to be seen immediately. Jimin had reminded him that it wasn’t feasible, Hoseok would be seen and would be taken care of. 

Even more frustratingly, neither of them had been allowed back with him. Hoseok was an adult, and they were not family. Jimin agrily called Yoongi, pacing the floor of the waiting room, grumbling about discriminatory practices and homophobia and while he was correct and Namjoon admired his passion, he was too tired, too single-minded at the time. He’d be indignant later.

Hey

Namjoon sits bolt upright, typing furiously.

Hey

You can text

Are you alright?

? I think. I feel  less than wonderful

I think I threw up all my organs

Did they get your fever down?

Yes. I’m so tired. 

I have an IV

I hate it

I want to go home.

Did they say when you can?

Lots of nurses, not a lot of answers. 

Keep me posted.

I love you

I love you

“Hey,” Namjoon nudges Jimin, “Hobi texted.”

“Oh? What did he say?”

“His fever’s down. He’s tired. He has an IV. He wants to leave.”

“Oh,” Jimin pouts, “I hate that.”

“Me too.”

Hours pass, he thinks he’s fallen into twilight sleep and come back again several times. Jimin has been on and off the phone with Father Kim and Taehyung a countless number of times, he’s made more coffee trips to the cafeteria than Namjoon can count; Namjoon is sure Jimin and Yoongi are both 98% coffee at all times. Yoongi had arrived some time earlier, to bring them food as they took a break from the waiting room, but retreated quickly, rightly sketched out by the hospital experience.

Joonie

Hobi

They’re admitting me

Namjoon’s heart sinks. That’s what he was afraid of.

“They’re admitting him.” Namjoon sighs to Jimin.

“I thought so.” Jimin frowns.

Do you have a room number yet?

No, Soon

Go home , I’ll call you from my room

I think they’ll take my phone

I don’t want to leave you

There’s no use staying

Can’t do anything else

I guess so

Just know we’re not abandoning you

I know

Please go rest

Tell Yoongi and Jimin I said thank you so much

And come see me

I love you so much

I love you too.

Chapter Text

Namjoon follows closely on Father Kim’s heels, not wanting to fall far behind and risk somehow being escorted from the premises. Father Kim approaches the nurse’s station with authority and confidence, leaning onto the counter and smiling down at the nurse seated behind it. 

“Hello,” Father Kim smiles, his voice honey-sweet, “could you please help me?”

“Of course, sir—Father,” she smiles back, adjusting her scrubs, “what can I do for you?”

Namjoon wants to laugh at the spectacle of it; Father Kim flirting disingenuously and the nurse falling right into it. He has to admit, though, it’s impressive. 

“A member of my congregation is in one of these rooms and needs counsel,” Father Kim lowers his voice and leans in closer, “would you be so kind as to give me his room number?”

“Oh, of course. Name, please?” She focuses her attention on the screen in front of her. 

“I’m Father Seokjin Kim. I’m looking for Hoseok.” 

“Last name?”

“Is there more than one Hoseok here?”

“Ah, here he is,” she smiles back up at Father Kim, “room 508.”

“Thank you so much.” Father Kim smiles softly and gestures for Namjoon to follow him. 

“Wait,” the nurse calls after them, “who’s he to the patient?”

Namjoon’s heart sinks. 

“Ah, of course,” Father Kim approaches the nurse's station again, “this is my younger brother and mentee, Namjoon Kim. He’s shadowing me on this journey.”

The nurse looks between the two of them, seemingly skeptical. She pulls her lips into a tight line and nods. 

“Go ahead,” she nods, “visiting ends in an hour.”

“Thank you,” Father Kim bows, “much appreciated.”

They depart the station as quickly as they can without being suspicious, but Namjoon feels so shady that he’s sure he’s got ‘I don’t belong here’ plastered on his face.

“Your brother? Shadowing you? Your mentee? Isn’t there some, like, rule against lying?” Namjoon whispers to Father Kim as they navigate the maze of a hallway. 

“What are we doing wrong here, exactly? No reason for you to be kept from each other. Ridiculous. Shameful. Besides, Namjoon, we’re all brothers and sisters here,” Father Kim smirks over at him, “and are you not following me right now? Am I not mentoring you in counseling?”

“So God allows for loopholes and technicalities,” Namjoon nods, “you teach me something new about priesthood every day.”

“See? Mentoring.” Father Kim grins and knocks on the closed door of room 508, pressing his ear up against it. 

“Come in!” 

Father Kim slowly swings the door open, the room is small but more spacious than Namjoon would have expected, and Hoseok looks so tiny in his bed. 

“Hi!” Hoseok grins, throwing his arms up in the air, “Welcome to my room!”

Namjoon sighs with relief at how much better Hoseok looks; there’s color in his cheeks and a shine to his eyes again. 

“Oh my god,” Namjoon smiles, crossing the room and planting a kiss on Hoseok’s head before sitting on the edge of the bed, “you look so much better.”

“I feel so much better.” Hoseok nods. There’s still an IV in his arm, but he’s not tethered to any other sort of wires, all of which are terrifying and Namjoon shakes away the thought of seeing Hoseok strung up like some sort of experiment. What a nightmare that would be. 

“You scared us,” Father Kim teasingly scolds, taking a seat in the lone chair in the room, “don’t let it happen again.”

“I swear.” Hoseok salutes him. 

“So what happened?” Namjoon picks a piece of fuzz off of his hoodie. He doesn’t want to look at Hoseok in a hospital gown. He hates it. He can’t see it. 

“The best they can figure is that I ate or drank something not so great,” Hoseok shrugs, “but the problem was the vomiting, among...other things.”

“Other things?”

Hoseok crinkles his nose and shakes his head. 

“Oh! Oh, not fun.”

“Yeah, not at all,” Hoseok groans, holding his stomach, “so my electrolytes were low? Something? And I was super dehydrated, I think that’s what they said, I don’t know, I was scared. So they did this in my arm and there was another one on the other side but they took that out late last night during one of the checks when they wouldn’t let me just sleep. And now I’m feeling better and you’re here.”

“I’m feeling better just by seeing that you’re feeling better.” Namjoon reaches out and takes Hoseok’s hand. If he could have, he’d have stayed there all night, holding his hand, never leaving him alone. But he was there now, and that’s what mattered. 

“When do you get to come home?” Father Kim stands from his chair and leans against the wall, looking out of Hoseok’s tiny window. “Nice view, by the way.”

“Isn’t it? I love bricks and alleyways,” Hoseok laughs, “I think they’re keeping me one more night? To make sure I’m all good? I really would rather come home but I’m not the boss of that.”

“Really, you are, though. You could discharge yourself,” Namjoon corrects, “you’re an adult and you have agency over your health care.”

“Oh?” Hoseok tilts his head to the side, “is that so?”

“Well, yes,” Father Kim says slowly, arms crossed, “ however. If medical staff says it’s best for you to stay one more night to make sure you’re safe, you probably should do so. You do have autonomy and are free to do what you want. But. The staff just wants to be sure you’re being safely released. You can sign yourself out at any time, but that doesn’t mean you should. ”

Namjoon looks over at Father Kim, he looks mildly anxious; it’s as if there’s something he’s wanting to say but isn’t sure how. But then again, hospitals make people act strangely. No one likes them, of course he’s anxious. 

“I see,” Hoseok nods, “doctor knows best.”

“Yes, of course! It’s just that you do have options.” Namjoon assures him before looking back to Father Kim. 

“You do,” Father Kim agrees, locking eyes with Namjoon before turning his attention back to Hoseok,  “just make sure you choose wisely.”

Hoseok’s eyes shift back and forth between them, like he’s watching his parents argue without actually arguing.

“Um,” Hoseok clears his throat nervously, “so. I’m gonna stay another night.”

Namjoon turns his attention back to Hoseok, taking his hand again.

“Of course, babe,” Namjoon squeezes his hand, “whatever you need to feel 100%.”

The tension in the room subsides and they spend the rest of the hour laughing and chatting casually until the nurse knocks on the door and pokes her head in.

“Excuse me,” she smiles apologetically, “visiting hours are over. Mr. Jung, dinner will be around in about thirty minutes.”

“Okay, thank you!” Hoseok chirps back at her before she ducks out of the door, leaving it cracked open.

“Please get some rest,” Namjoon stands and kisses the top of Hoseok’s head, “and come home to me in the morning.”

“I will,” Hoseok tugs on Namjoon’s shirt to pull him down for a peck on the lips, “and I will.”

“Take care, Hobi,” Father Kim leans in for a hug, “or, at least, let them take care of you.”

“I will!”

“Love you, Hobi.” Namjoon smiles as he backs out of the door, less concerned about blowing his cover now that the visit is over. 

“Love you!” Hoseok calls back.

“Rest up.” Father Kim points sternly at Hoseok as he follows Namjoon out.

They work their way through the labyrinthian hall again, in less of a hurry now that they’re not in a time crunch.

“When we get back to the--ah, damn it.” Father Kim stops in the middle of the hall, pats the pockets of his jacket and his pants.

“What’s wrong?” 

“I left my phone. Go on ahead of me,” Father Kim turns on his heel and heads back toward Hosoek’s room, “I’ll meet you out front and we’ll call an Uber.” 

Just when he was beginning to think he’d never see the light of day again, Namjoon manages to find his way out of the building, with much credit due to the people he followed out. It’s cold and damp outside, he curses himself for not having worn a better coat as he shoves his hands in his pockets and does his best to keep out of the faint mist in the air.

“Uber’s on the way,” Father Kim slides up beside him, “ wow , it’s cold.”

The ride home is quiet, Namjoon watches the buildings slide by out of his window as Father Kim texts Jungkook and Yoongi to make sure everything had gone smoothly in his absence.

“It’s not like I don’t know that they did well. Of course they did well,” Father Kim affirms out loud, unprompted, “but if I don’t check up on Jungkook he’ll get cocky.”

“That age is like that.” Namjoon nods.

They’re dropped off at the front of the church, Father Kim enters the side door to his office, Namjoon loops around the back, scuttling through the rain, and pops into the kitchen.

“Hey,” Yoongi looks up from the peppers he’s chopping, “how’s Hoseok?”

“He’s doing well,” Namjoon pulls his hood down and shakes the water from his bangs, his hair is getting too long, “much better than the last time we saw him.”

“Almost anything would be better than that,” Taehyung wipes their eyes with the back of their hand, “at least from what Jimin said.”

“Are you alright?” Namjoon laughs, approaching the counter.

“This onion is aggressive,” Taehyung sniffles, turning away and wiping their eyes again, “oh, god, why is it so strong?!”

“Here, let me help.” Namjoon laughs, rounding the counter and saddling up next to them.

“No, no,” Taehyung shakes their head sternly, “I’ve got it. No onion is the boss of me.”

“Alright, fair.” 

“Hey,” Yoongi nudges Taehyung with his elbow, holding out a moist paper towel, “wipe your eyes.”

Taehyung snatches the wet paper and presses it to their eyes, sighing as it makes contact.

“Better?” Yoongi asks.

“Marginally. I’m not crying my face off so there’s that.”

“Good enough.”

“Where’s everyone else?” Namjoon takes Yoongi’s discarded gloves and tosses them into the trash, retrieving another pair for him.

“Jimin is at home catching up on sleep. Jungkook is wrapping up group. We’re here, you’re there, Hoseok is in the hospital, and Father Kim is wherever he is.” Yoongi pulls the gloves on and scoops his peppers into a plastic bin.

“I think I heard his office door,” Taehyung wipes the rest of their face with the paper towel, “right before you came in.”

“Ah,” Namjoon nods, “I’m going to pop in and check on Jungkook and head home. Tae, do you have dinner plans?”

“Jackson still had Jungkook come get pizzas for the group even though all that mess happened, so pizza was the plan.” 

“Pizza plans are always good plans.” Yoongi nods wisely as he seals up the pepper bucket.

“Want me to bring up leftovers?” Taehyung offers, taking the pepper bucket from Yoongi and placing it in the fridge.

“Ah, that would be amazing,” Namjoon was only just realizing that he hadn’t eaten a thing all day, “would you mind?”

“No, not at all.” Taehyung holds their cutting board at a distance and slides the offending diced onions into a tub, Yoongi seals it up and places it in the fridge with the peppers.

“Awesome. See you soon?”

“Soon!” Taehyung removes their apron as Yoongi wipes down the counter. It was odd to see just the two of them in the normally bustling kitchen, it wasn’t right if it wasn’t full. 

Namjoon heads in the direction of the all-purpose room, the door is still closed and the light is still on despite the fact that the group should have cleared out quite some time ago. He peeks through the window; Jungkook is sitting up on one of the tables, pizza box in his lap, soda cup in his hand, laughing with the other kids still remaining. Namjoon watches for a moment, it’s interesting to see Jungkook socializing, actually speaking to other kids his age in a non-counseling, non-religious context. He wonders what a non-priesthood-bound Jungkook would be like. Jungkook glances in his direction, meeting his eyes and waving. Namjoon waves back, giving a questioning thumbs up. Jungkook nods and returns the gesture. He looks proud of himself; hell, Namjoon is proud of him. He’s watching him grow by the day and it swells his heart with pride. He pulls his hood up and prepares himself to step back out into the rain, bracing himself for the chill of it. 

“Namjoon,” Father Kim calls from his open office door, “can you come here, please?”

“Hey,” Namjoon pops his head in, “what’s up?”

“Sit down, please? And close the door.”

“Oh, yeah,” Namjoon steps in and shuts the door behind him, plopping down in one of the chairs, “what’s going on?”

Father Kim pushes his glasses up on top of his head and folds his arms on top of his desk, leaning forward toward Namjoon.

“So, I know that you’re very smart, Namjoon.”

“Okay?”

“And I know that you know that you’re very smart.”

“Well, I mean--”

“And I know that you mean well. And I know that when you’re offering knowledge, you’re being helpful.”

“Right, I--”

“But you really have to stop and consider the things that come out of your mouth sometimes.” Father Kim says firmly, and Namjoon feels absolutely pinned under his gaze.

“What?” Namjoon blinks.

“Just be careful, Namjoon, with your words,” Father Kim sits back in his chair and relaxes with a sigh, “that’s all I’m saying.”

“I don’t think I--”

“Because what you’re saying and what someone is hearing, those aren’t always the same thing.” 

They stay locked in eye contact for what feels like an eternity, the tick of the clock in the background prickling at Namjoon’s skin.

“That’s all.” Father Kim nods with finality, and it’s clear that the conversation is over and Namjoon is being dismissed. 

“Um,” Namjoon stands, “understood. Thank you, Father. I’m going to go home now.”

“Go home and rest,” Father Kim nods, “it’s been a long couple of days.”

“It has. Thank you for taking me to see Hoseok today.”

“I wanted to see him too, it was the least I could do. Have a good night, Namjoon.”

“Oh,” Namjoon reaches for the doorknob, “of course. Good night, Father.”

Namjoon rushes from the room as casually as he can, whatever that means, and makes his way home in the rain. He peels off his clothes and climbs into a shower as hot as he can stand, trying to process the interaction he just had. He doesn’t understand, he can’t pin down what prompted such a scolding. 

He dresses again and pours himself a drink, pulling out his phone and texting Taehyung.

Hey, I’m going to bed. I’m exhausted. 

Oh, okay, I’m gonna take this pizza over to Yoongi and Jimin’s, then

Sounds good. Should I wait up?

Nah, not if I’m going over there

Alright, see you tomorrow

See ya

Namjoon tops off his glass and slinks away to his room like a kicked dog, flips on his radio and climbs under the covers, propped up against his wall, and stares into the middle distance, lost. The day was too much and too confusing, he was feeling overwhelmed and oddly threatened. He shakes it off, downs his drink, and sinks into his pillows. He just wants it to be over.

Chapter Text

It’s Yoongi’s birthday and they’re gathered in Yoongi and Jimin’s apartment, sipping on drinks and chatting casually. It was cold out- New York didn’t quite seem to understand that spring was coming- so they had ordered dinner in and cozied up on the furniture together.

Hoseok had been discharged for a day or so now, exponentially better than he had been just the day before, and Namjoon was so glad to have him back.  He sat in the armchair next to Namjoon, snuggled in tight between him and the armrest, a knit blanket pulled up over him, a fruity drink clutched in his hand. His typical glow is back- enhanced by the couple of drinks he’d had so far- and Namjoon just wants to hold him close and never let anything happen again. He wants to scoop all of them up and protect them from everything. 

“How old are you now, Yoongi?” Jungkook licks the last of his desert off of his spoon.

“Old enough.” Yoongi snatches a piece of eel out of the container he’s sharing with Taehyung. Taehyung pushes the rest of the container toward Yoongi and clutches their stomach, leaning back against the arm of the couch and sighing deeply with satisfaction. 

“I can’t,” they groan, “it’s all yours.”

Yoongi shrugs and pulls the platter toward himself, not one to ever waste food. 

Namjoon thinks that’s kind of funny, considering his partner’s habits. 

It’s also kind of funny that despite Yoongi’s aversion to dirtiness or disorganization of any kind, he didn’t seem all that bothered that Jungkook rarely washed his hands or that Jimin spread his belonging around anywhere he was inhabiting for more than 10 minutes. 

And as someone from an abusive home, Jungkook was oddly unbothered that Hoseok had a tendency to slap his arm when he was acting up, although playfully. 

Taehyung and Yoongi both seemed relatively unbothered by the chaos and the noise that could be Jimin and Jungkook, despite their anxieties and occasional need for silence and social isolation. 

Father Kim was oddly simultaneously secretive and blunt, and incredibly involved but also kind of irresponsible and playful, weird for a priest. 

Jimin could be pretty catty despite him having a distaste for passive-aggressiveness.

Jungkook desperately wanted to be seen as an adult, but was still painfully, childishly, transparently naïve.

Namjoon also thinks he shouldn’t ever say any of that out loud. He observes them and understands them, and he now knows that does not mean he actually has to say these things.

He’d been doing that a lot since he’d spoken to Father Kim. Or, rather, been spoken to. He’s still not sure exactly what prompted the scolding, but it was clearly something he had said, and it obviously wasn’t the first time. So he’d started to mull over everything that came to mind before he let it leave his mouth. It was going to take work, that was for sure, but if it kept him from ever having to endure the experience he’d had in Father Kim’s office again, he’d do all the work that he needed to.

“I’m glad you’re home, Hobi,” Jimin closes up containers and stacks them neatly on top of each other, “we missed you. I missed your face.”

“I missed your face too! I don’t want to spend any more time at the hospital, ever.” 

“Who wants to spend time in a hospital? It’s the worst place.” Jungkook runs his finger along the inside of his styrofoam cup, scooping out the last precious bits of chocolate syrup and licking it from his finger.

“I can think of worse places,” Hoseok counters, “like...a courthouse.”

“The DMV.” Father Kim adds.

“The dentist.” Jimin contributes.

“The grocery store the day before Thanksgiving.” Taehyung chimes in.

“ Any sort of doctor’s office.” Yoongi adds. 

“Okay, okay, but at least you get to leave those places sooner rather than later. In the hospital you’re stuck in a weird medical limbo with bad smells and loud machines. And bad smells.” Jungkook crinkles his nose.

“You said ‘bad smells’ twice.” Taehyung teases him.

“Yeah, the smells are that bad.” Jungkook puts the lid on his cup and sets it on the table with finality.

“Yeah, all of that, and that’s why I don’t want to spend another night there ever again. I’d rather die on the sidewalk than stay overnight again.” Hoseok nods firmly.

“I would prefer that you didn’t, you know, die at all.” Jimin frowns.

“I’d prefer that too, but between a death on the sidewalk and a night in the hospital it’s a tough decision.”

“He makes good points.” Yoongi nods.

“I concede.” Jimin raises his hands in defeat before draining his wine glass.

“Namjoon,” Taehyung lets their head fall lazily in Namjoon’s direction, “are you ready to go home?”

“You’re just gonna eat and run? Are we only a restaurant to you? You hate us.” Jimin teases. 

“That’s absolutely true. That’s exactly what I said.” Taehyung teases back. 

“You hate us and want us to die.” Jimin continues. 

“Sounds like Taehyung.” Yoongi nods. 

“That’s the most true thing I’ve ever heard,” Taehyung solemnly nods, “Joon? Wanna go?”

Namjoon looks to Hoseok, whose glass still has a bit of drink left in it, and is half content to stay in the chair with him, but is also eager to whisk him into bed and hold him close. The prior couple of nights painfully highlighted how much Namjoon loved the weight and the warmth of Hoseok in bed next to him, how much his rest and comfort relied on having Hoseok resting with him. 

“What do you think, Hobi?” 

“Hmm,” Hoseok shakes his glass a little, “can we stay just a bit longer? I’m enjoying this.”

“Of course,” Namjoon nods, turning his attention back to Taehyung, “Hobi says no.”

“Jinnie, Kook, are you ready?” 

“It’s late,” Father Kim glances at the clock, “and a school night.”

“I could miss a day.” Jungkook pouts. 

“No, let’s head home,” Father Kim rises from his chair and reaches his hands out, one to help each of them off of the floor, “Taehyung and I will drop you on the way home.”

Coats are pulled on and shoes are slid into, the three of them making a fuss about giving one last happy birthday wish to Yoongi on their way out of the door, Yoongi waving them away bashfully and locking the deadbolt behind them. He makes his way back to the couch and lets himself flop heavily onto it.

“You okay?” Jimin asks.

“Tired.” He sighs.

“Let me finish my drink and we’ll head home,” Hoseok takes another sip from his glass, “and let you rest.”

“It’s not that kind of tired,” Yoongi stretches his arms over his head with a groan, “just...overall tired.”

“Social burnout.” Jimin nods.

“Yeah, for sure.” Yoongi nods.

“Well,” Hoseok drains the rest of his drink, “I’ll help Jimin clean up and we’ll go home and you can recharge your battery.”

“I think he’s permanently at 20%,” Jimin rises from the couch, “you know, right when the low battery warning pops up.”

“And you can turn it to low power mode but everything runs slower.” Hoseok nods, collecting cups.

“Yeah, just like that,” Jimin laughs, “permanent low power mode.”
“Hey,” Yoongi scoffs, “I’m just very sleepy!”

“We know. Stay sleepy, it’s almost bedtime.” Jimin grabs half the stack of plastic containers off the table, Hoseok grabs the other half and follows him to the kitchen. Yoongi pulls out his phone and scrolls silently for a moment, and Namjoon realizes- this is the first time he’s been alone with Yoongi in a non-work setting since they’d really gotten to know each other, and suddenly he feels pressure; pressure to make conversation, but to not say the wrong thing. He can hear Jimin and Hoseok in the other room, dishes clinking and water running; how long does it take to put takeaway containers in the fridge? It feels like it’s been a lifetime.

“So,” Yoongi sighs and sets his phone down, breaking the silence before Namjoon can, “Namjoon.”

“Yes.” Namjoon nods, thankful for the conversation but still oddly uneasy about what may or may not come out of his mouth.

“I don’t do this often, and I never do if I don’t mean it,” Yoongi rubs his eyes and sighs heavily, blinking hard as he lets his hands fall back into his lap, “because I believe that you should show and not say, but I’m sorry.”

“Oh? For...what?” 

“New Years. When I was short with you.” 

“That was over two months ago.” Namjoon laughs. 

“Yeah, and I like to really think things over before I talk about them, so. I’m sorry.”

“That’s...a lot of time to think something over.”

“Would you just take the apology before I take it back?!”

“Alright, alright.” Namjoon laughs and holds his hands up in surrender, "apology humbly accepted.”

“ Thank you, for fuck’s sake.” Yoongi sighs and goes back to his phone. 

They’re silent for a moment and Namjoon considers his next move carefully before finally deciding to just go for it. 

“What was it that I did that day? To piss you off, I mean.”

Yoongi sets his phone aside and looks at his nails, observing them more closely than is probably necessary.

“Honestly,” Yoongi sighs, picking at a stray piece of skin by his cuticle, “I’m not really sure. I think it was a wave of things. I was tired, and cranky, and you were tired and cranky, and also whiny, and I hate when people are overly whiny.”

“But Ji--”

“Stop,” Yoongi makes eye contact as he continues to pick at his nail, “stop. I know what you’re about to say, and don’t.”

“Sorry,” Namjoon wants to shrink himself as small as he possibly can and disappear between the couch cushions, “I didn’t mean to be insulting.”

“And I think that was the biggest thing,” Yoongi moves from picking at his nail to fiddling with the hair at the nape of his neck, “I think it’s that you really don’t think about the things you say before they come out of your mouth, and if you do, you don’t think about how you’re saying them. That can make a big difference, you know.”

“Yeah,” Namjoon sighs, “that’s not the first time I”ve heard that recently. I’m trying to pay more attention. I’m working on it.”

“I know it’s because you’re smart, and you assume the people you’re talking to know your intent or that you’re not coming at them personally, but that’s not always the case. That night, you were way too short and clipped with Kook, who, don’t forget, is still just a kid who had worked just as many hours as you and heard just as many people’s problems that day, and all for free, and all without a single complaint. And I know, I know, he’s in training, and he’s been doing this for longer than you have, but he’s still just a kid, and he took it all in stride, like he always does, and I don’t know. Rubbed me the wrong way.” Yoongi sighs again and lets his head fall back to rest on the couch cushion.

“Noted. Apology and explanation accepted, and I apologize in return.” Namjoon nods, even though Yoongi isn’t looking at him. It feels necessary to acknowledge that way.

“Accepted,” Yoongi yawns, “but like I said. Show, don’t say. Just be better, that’s all I ask. That’s all that any of us are trying to do.”

“Agreed. Self-improvement always.”

“Mmm.” Yoongi mumbles in response. Namjoon’s not entirely sure he’s still awake. He glances at the clock- it’s getting late. What the hell are Hoseok and Jimin doing? He pushes himself out of his chair and shuffles toward the kitchen- as he rounds the corner, he sees them leaned in close, they’re speaking in low, hushed voices. Namjoon can’t quite make it out, but Jimin sounds concerned, Hoseok sounds reassuring.  He doesn’t want to eavesdrop yet again, so he announces himself casually as he approaches the kitchen. 

“Hey,” He smiles as he pops his head into the kitchen, “pretty sure Yoongi just fell asleep on me in the middle of a conversation.”

“Oh,” Hoseok glances at the clock on the microwave, “it is late.”

“A little bit.” Namjoon nods.

“We’re always like this,” Jimin laughs, “it takes us an hour to say goodbye.”

“It’s okay, I’m just sure everyone is as tired as Yoongi is.”

“For sure,” Hoseok sighs and pushes himself away from the counter he’s leaning on, “we’re all done cleaning up, let’s get out of here.”

After a few more hugs and a few more good-byes, Hoseok and Namjoon are bundled up and on their way home, strolling quietly hand-in-hand through alleys and shortcuts.

“Alright?” Hoseok looks up at him, Namjoon can’t really see him in the dark but he knows that he’s got that look on his face; eyes wide, the corners of his mouth slightly downturned, eyebrows a little furrowed.

“Yeah, yeah,” Namjoon looks over at him, smiling despite the fact that Hoseok probably can’t see him that well either, “just pretty full and sleepy.”

“Hmm,” Hoseok leans into him, “we’ll be home and in bed soon.”

They remain quiet as they approach the apartments, hand-in-hand turned to arm-in-arm, climbing the stairs slowly and slipping into Hoseok’s apartment just as the light in Taehyung’s window goes dark.

“Tae’s up late.” Hoseok yawns.

“They’ve been busy on a creative writing assignment,” Namjoon nods as he unlocks Hoseok’s door and follows him inside, “it’s been keeping them up all hours.”

“They shouldn’t stress about it,” Hoseok slides out of his shoes, “they’re very talented.”

“It’s true,” Namjoon takes Hoseok’s coat and hangs it up next to his on the hooks by the door, “Jimin and I spent at least twenty minutes raving over them, I thought they were going to cry.”

“The best minds always second guess themselves,” Hoseok pushes his hair back off of his forehead, “that’s why I say first thought, best thought. I never second guess myself.”

“I think you just insulted yourself but I’m too tired to be sure.” Namjoon grabs Hoseok’s shoulders and steers him down the hall toward the bedroom.

“I think I maybe did.”

“Don’t you insult my man,” Namjoon teases, “you’ll get a punch.”

“Truly chivalrous,” Hoseok laughs and turns for a kiss, “let’s go wash up. I”m ready to get to sleep.”

“Yes, sir.” Namjoon nods.

After what was probably an unnecessary amount of hip bumping and water splashing as they share the sink, they change into dry shirts, Hoseok flips on the radio, and they slide between the covers, cuddling up close. Hoseok rests his head on Namjoon’s chest, his arm slung over Namjoon’s stomach, slowly running his fingers up and down his side. Namjoon has his arm under Hoseok’s head, lazily drawing circles on his back with his fingertips. Hoseok occasionally presses a kiss to the side of Namjoon’s neck, Namjoon kisses the top of his head in return. 

As Hoseok’s breath begins to slow and quiet, Namjoon takes a deep breath of his own and decides to venture toward finding out what he’d been whispering about with Jimin. He’d just have to be subtle.

“Hobi?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you good?”

“Huh?”

“Are you good?”

Hoseok lifts his head and looks at him, half-asleep and confused.

“What, now?”

“Well, yeah, but, in general.”

Hoseok smiles sleepily, a lock of hair already sticking up at the front of his head, it wiggles as he nods.

“Yeah, I’m great,” he settles his head back onto Namjoon’s chest, “I’m really, really great.”

Namjoon pulls him in closer and kisses his head. He chooses to take Hoseok at his word; he had nothing to prove otherwise, and it was common knowledge that despite being fairly emotionally intelligent, Jimin tended to occasionally project his own anxieties, or fret and worry when there was nothing to fret or worry about. While that was a problem in and of itself, it was not a problem worth sweating, especially not when he’s snuggled up in bed, warm and comfortable for the night.

“I’m glad to hear that, babe.”

“I’m the best I’ve been in a long time.” Hoseok mumbles, low and lazy and sleepy.

“Me, too.” Namjoon agrees, stroking his hair.

Hoseok falls silent, his breath slow, even, soft. Namjoon gives him one last head kiss and lets himself slide away for the night.

---------

It’s still not quite sitting right with him the next morning as he boxes up donation boxes for the women’s shelter with Jungkook, making small talk as they fold boxes, fill them with toiletries and infant needs, and seal them tight. Fold, fill, seal, fold, fill, seal- it becomes automatic and allows his brain to wander.

“If you ever want to know a secret, Jungkook is the most likely to spill it.”

It would be really messed up for Namjoon to exploit Jungkook’s trust in him by pressing him for information. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t heavily weighing it as an option.

“Hey, Kook,” Namjoon pulls tape tight across the top of the box, “what was it like when you first got here?”

“I grew up here.” Jungkook takes the box from Namjoon and adds it gently to a stack on the floor beside him.

“RIght, but when you really came here. When you became Father Kim’s permanent shadow.” Namjoon lifts another reusable bag of donations onto the counter and empties it slowly; the longer this takes, the more conversation they could have.

“Hmm,” Jungkook takes a moment to think as he boxes up the tins of formula in front of him, “well, to be honest, I was so concerned with what was going on at home that I didn’t really notice anyone or anything until I started working with Father Kim.”

“That’s fair.” Namjoon nods, boxing up sanitary napkins and sliding the box in Jungkook’s direction.

“But it was wild, like,” Jungkook pauses and looks over at Namjoon with wide eyes, “ they knew me. They sprung in to help me. Father Kim and Yoongi and Tae and Jimin, and even Tae’s partner Rose, they all helped me, and my mom. And they didn’t have to. They didn’t know us. But they did know us. Because in a way, I think we all know each other. Like, okay, we’re all pretty different, yeah?”

“RIght.”

“But also the same? There’s a lot of layers and a lot of trauma to all of us and that makes us relate to each other and empathize and really know how to lift each other but also, like, our traumas and our souls are all very different and that makes us all unique but still compatible like...um...like mix and match pajama sets. All of us come with all of this baggage but we all store it together and I don’t know, I guess that’s kind of cool and exciting.”

“Huh,” Namjoon hands over the tape, “that’s an interesting way to look at it.”
“So it was kind of refreshing to be pulled into all of this,” Jungkook adds the box to the stack and starts to unroll labels to stick on, “because I know even if one of you doesn’t get exactly where I’m coming from, you know that I’m coming from somewhere. And that’s helpful. And that I get to listen to other people and help them with where they’re coming from when no one else can, that’s really awesome, and I’m glad I get to do that for the congregants and for you all and that’s a really big and awesome responsibility and I’m pretty stoked on it.”

“That’s absolutely something to be stoked about,” Namjoon searches for his sharpie, “so it was everyone but Hoseok here when you joined Father Kim.”

“Yep,” Jungkook dutifully begins the labeling process, “he didn’t come until quite some time later.”

“And what was that like?” Namjoon hopes he’s not approaching the ‘too obvious’ territory.

“Well, it was cool to not be the newest and to be able to show someone around,” Jungkook slides the stack of labeled boxes aside and sets to work on the next few, “I liked him right away. He was nice. He has a big smile.”

“Did you know anything about him before he got here?”

“Mmm, not really, there are so many people here everyday, it’s hard to know who’s gonna be a fixture.”

“But Father Kim brought him in specifically.”
“Yeah, that’s true, so I did know a bit about him,” Jungkook shakes his marker furiously before tossing it aside and turning to face Namjoon, leaning on the counter, “like, that he was youngish and experiencing homelessness and he was kind but really sick.”

“That’s right, he came from the hospital.”
“Yeah, it took a lot for Father Kim to make that deal,” Jungkook slides his hands into the pouch of his hoodie, his gaze somewhere in the middle distance, “a hold is hard to negotiate, but being a priest gets you everywhere, I guess.”

He freezes, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. He knows he’s said something he shouldn’t.

“I’m sorry?”

“You know, because,” Jungkook stumbles over his words, “because parole and probation and all. Special attention to special cases.”

“RIght, of course.”
“But you know Father Kim,” Jungkook shrugs, laughing uncomfortably, “could talk his way into anywhere.”

“He totally could.” Namjoon laughs and nods.

“Anyway, um,” Jungkook motions to the boxes, “help?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah. Of course.”

They load the care packages into a box truck in silence, Jungkook is practically sweating bullets as he rushes to finish the task as quickly as possible. As soon as the last package is in and the door is closed, Namjoon slaps the side of the truck and it chugs away, leaving the two of them in awkward silence. Namjoon does his best not to squeeze Jungkook for more information, but he’s coming out of this having more questions than he came into it with.

“Okay,” Jungkook walks backward towards the door, “I”m gonna head home. Got studying to do. Pizza Friday?”
“Yeah, of course,” Namjoon nods with a smile, “pizza Friday. Study well, Kook.”

“RIght,” Jungkook nods, “I will. Study well. Okay. Alright, bye.”

He slips inside and leaves Namjoon standing alone in the alley, staring up at Hoseok’s bedroom window. He wishes he wouldn’t have pressed Jungkook for anything, he was just left now with more confusion and a mild sense of alarm than ever. 

He resolves once again to let time tell him what he’s meant to know. God- or whoever- knows every alternative route has not been any help in the least.

“Fuck.” He mutters to himself, turning on his heel with a sigh. He needed a nap to face the rest of this day.

Chapter Text

Namjoon is helping Hoseok stuff the last of his necessities in a suitcase, doing his best not to sulk about it.

“I’ll only be gone a little while,” Hoseok reminds him, seemingly reading his mind, “and now we have phones! You have my phone number and Dawon’s, you can reach me twice at once if you need to.”

‘I’m glad you get to see your sister,” Namjoon sighs, zipping the bag shut, “I’m glad that you’re going to spend time with her, I know that’s really important and special to you. But I’m gonna pout about it because I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’m gonna miss you, too,” Hoseok rounds the bed and drapes his arms over Namjoon’s shoulders, “but we can call, and text, and facetime, and I’ll be home in like a week. You won’t even really notice I’ve been gone.”

Namjoon gestures to Hoseok’s half of the bed.

“I’ll definitely notice when you’re not there at night.”

“You’re such a baby.” Hoseok laughs and kisses his cheek. Namjoon pulls him in tight and squeezes him.

“I know,” He presses his cheek into Hoseok’s hair, “and obviously I can survive without you, I just don’t want to.”

“And that’s very sweet but my sister will skin you if you don’t let me go.”

“She doesn’t have the guts.”

Hoseok pulls back and looks up at Namjoon with wide eyes.

“You’d be surprised what Dawon can do, she’s a very strong lady.”

“No doubt, but skinning me would gut you, so…” Namjoon trails off and winks.

“Ah, good point. A catch 22.”

Namjoon kisses Hoseok’s forehead one last time, helps him round up his bags, and walks him to the curb, soaking up every last possible second until Hoseok’s ride comes.

The taxi pulls up and Hoseok smiles up at Namjoon, lifts up on his toes for one last kiss, tosses his bag into the car and climbs in after it. Namjoon closes his door for him, they blow one last kiss at one another, and the taxi pulls away, leaving a pouty Namjoon all by himself on the curb.  He knows he’s being ridiculous, he would be fine on his own, he had more than enough to keep him busy, but when Hoseok wasn’t around, he occupied Namjoon’s mind even more than he did when he was with him.  He turns on his heel and makes his way back to the church- he had youth group to prepare for.

It’s a particularly small group that day, causing the group session to only be a handful of kids. Pizza Friday was a no-go as well, with Hoseok being out of town and Taehyung practically living in the school’s library as they prepared for their finals. The session wraps early, Father Kim dismissing the group to the dinner hall if they chose to eat there that night. Given the circumstances of most of the kids, Father Kim knew it would be best to offer them an invitation; they needed it and they weren’t going to ask for it.

It’s short work cleaning up this time, chairs stacked and snack table cleared in a matter of minutes. 

“Well,” Father Kim turns to them with a sigh, “I guess that’s that.”

“It’s so early,” Jungkook checks his phone, “I’m gonna head out and drop Tae a plate on the way home, if that’s okay?”

“Ugh, Jungkook, you are truly a godsend,” Father Kim sighs, “Jimin took them coffee earlier this afternoon and said their eyes were glazed over and they barely seemed to register that he was there.”

“Yikes,” Jungkook grimaces, “I’ll take two plates and eat with them and send them home?”

“Tell them I ordered it.” 

“Yessir,” Jungkook nods dutifully, “your sibling will come home safely.”

“Thank you,” Father Kim smiles softly, “please, stack them high. And take some fresh bread home to your mom. Tell her happy birthday for me.”

“Oh,” Jungkook’s eyes go wide, “you remembered.”

“Of course I did,” Father Kim smiles as he ushers the two of them from the room and flicks off the lights, “I remember everything.”

“Thank you, Father, I’ll pass the message.” Jungkook gives a little bow before skittering off and disappearing around the corner. Father Kim laughs and shakes his head, then looks over to Namjoon, putting his arm around his shoulders.

“Got plans?” He asks as they stroll toward the office.

“Hmm, no, not really,” Namjoon shoves his hands in his pockets, “just...hangin out.”

“Wanna go get dinner? It’s on me.”

“I’ll never say no to free food.”

------

Namjoon sits in the booth across from Father Kim, scanning the laminated menu in front of him.

“Won’t Yoongi be offended that you’re not eating his cooking?” 

“Nah,” Father Kim shakes his head and slides his menu aside, “this is one of Yoongi’s favorite places. If anything, he’ll be offended that he wasn’t invited. Decided what you want yet?”

“Uh,” Namjoon flips the menu over, then over again, “not exactly. What’s good here?”
“All of it,” Father Kim shrugs, “but I’m getting banana nut pancakes, two sausage links, toast, fresh fruit and coffee.”

“Excellent choices,” Namjoon nods, setting his menu aside as well, “I have made my decision.”

Father Kim raises his hand to the woman behind the counter, slides his menu aside and sits back in his seat. He looks more relaxed than Namjoon has seen him look in quite some time.

“Hey there, Jinnie.” A young woman in an apron approaches the table. She’s carrying a mug in one hand, water in the other; her smile is bright as she sets the drinks on the table and pulls her notepad and pencil from her apron. 

“And hey to you, Jennie.” Father Kim smiles back at her. 

“What can I get for you?” 

Father Kim rattles his order off, she dutifully takes notes, then looks expectantly to Namjoon.

“Uh…” Namjoon consults the menu again, “chocolate chip pancakes...four strips of bacon...bagel with cream cheese...and a Coke.”

“Mm-hmm, mm-hmm,” She nods, scribbling quickly on her notepad, “one bill, or two?”

“Just the one, please.” Father Kim takes Namjoon’s menu and hands it off to her.

“Cousin’s discount it is, then,” she takes the menus with a smile, “coming right up.”

Father Kim watches her make her way back to the kitchen with a smile, then turns back toward Namjoon and sips his coffee.

“Is there anyone you don’t know?” Namjoon laughs, squeezing his lemon slice into his water.

“Mm, not really,” Father Kim smiles, swiping a rogue drip of coffee off the side of his mug with his finger, “it kind of comes with the territory of my position.  But in this case, there’s a few more layers to it.”

“I like a layer or two.”

“Jennie there is my little cousin,” Father Kim plucks a napkin from the dispenser and places it under his mug, “she’s worked here since it was just barely legal for her to work, but her parents-my mother’s sister and her husband- own this place. Bought it very cheap and very much failing, and turned it around. They’re here all day, everyday, basically. This is where Yoongi and Jimin were discovered, for lack of a better word.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Father Kim pulls another napkin out and places it under Namjoon’s cup, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, but it’s pretty cheap to eat here, even cheaper in the mornings if you play the specials right, and even cheaper than that if my aunt happens to notice that you’re just a kid who happens to be living some pretty unfortunate circumstances.”

“Your aunt is pretty observant, then.”

“She is. She offered them part-time jobs; they were still in school and bouncing between their friend’s houses. Over time, she mentioned the church more and more, and it took some coaxing and convincing, but she steered them in my direction and the rest is history.” 

“Huh,” Namjoon nods thoughtfully, “so your whole family is like this, then.”

“Yep. We were raised to do good for others, and to be good to others. Not the superficial type of good. Real good. The kind that makes a ripple and carries onto the next person.”

“There need to be more Kim families in the world.”

“You are correct.”

There’s the ding of a bell and Jennie’s voice floats through the empty diner, calling to them that their order is coming. Namjoon looks around the seating area- it’s empty except for them. Father Kim slides over toward the window as Jennie approaches the table, leaving room at the end of the bench.

“One Father Kim special with extra plump strawberries,” she places his order in front of him, “and one stack of chocolate chip, four strips bacon, warm bagel with cream cheese, and a coke. And one steamed soy milk latte for me.”

“Excellent,” Father Kim unrolls his silverware, “perfect.”

He reaches and takes her serving tray from her, placing it to his side, and pats the bench beside him. She plops down with a smile, plucking one small grape from Father Kim’s fresh fruit dish.

“It was poison.” She nods.

“Bless you for saving me, my child.” Father Kim places his hand over his heart and bows his head solemnly.

“What are you doing in tonight? It’s not Tuesday.”
“We were cut loose a little early.” Father Kim cuts into his pancakes with his fork.

“Don’t you do the dismissing? Did you dismiss yourself just for pancakes?” Jennie accuses him with a grin.

“Excuse me, miss,” Father Kim sets his silverware down and looks at her sternly, “do you think I’d dismiss my faithful congregation for pancakes?”

“Yes.” Namjoon and Jennie agree in unison.

“Well, you’d be correct.” Father Kim shoves an oversized bite of pancakes into his mouth and sighs happily as he chews. 

Jennie looks satisfied and turns back to blow on her steaming hot latte. She looks over at Namjoon, sipping her drink with a look on her face that sat somewhere between curiosity and suspicion. 

“I”m Namjoon,” he smiles at her, spreading cream cheese onto his bagel, “I’m Father Kim’s coworker.”

“Colleague and friend.” Father Kim corrects, stabbing a piece of melon with his fork.

“I’m Father Kim’s colleague and friend.” Namjoon nods before biting into his bagel.

“Did you come off of the streets, too?” She asks. 

Namjoon chokes a little on his bagel.

“Oh, sorry,” she grimaces, “was that too blunt?”

“No, no,” Namjoon clears his throat, “you’re good.”

“Usually, people like to dance around the topic,” Father Kim cuts his sausage into bits, “but we like to be a little more direct. Try to erase the stigma and stereotype of homelessness- it looks different for many people and happens for many reasons. Namjoon is no different- he’s a very straightforward person. And Namjoon, as you now know, Jennie doesn’t shy away from this sort of thing.”

“Nope,” she shakes her head, popping her lips on the ‘p’, “I’ve seen a lot of things in this diner and learned a lot of things about inequity and inequality from Jinnie.”

“I’ve heard that it’s a trait in the Kim family,” Namjoon takes a big gulp of his soda, “it’s admirable.”

“I appreciate it but it’s not about admiration, it’s about justice and caring for those who don’t have the means to care for themselves. GIving them the chance that no one else would.” Jennie sips her drink again.

“As it goes, ‘be like-minded, be sympathetic, love one another, be compassionate and humble’.” Father Kim nods.

“As it also goes, ‘Whoever sows injustice will reap calamity’.” Jennie counters.

“But then again, ‘Cease from anger and forsake wrath;vDo not fret; it leads only to evildoing.’ So.” Father Kim smirks, taking a sip from his coffee.

“Damn.” Jennie pouts.

“How do you two and Jungkook have such encyclopedic bible knowledge? I’m stunned.” Namjoon blinks.

“You grow up in it and it stays,” Jennie shrugs, “it sticks in there. At least the ones that really speak to you do.”

“That’s fair,” Namjoon nods, “by the way, why is it that we’re the only ones here?”

“It’s after hours,” Jennie points to the neon sign in the window, ‘Closed’ glowing red. He hadn’t noticed it on the way in.

“Oh,” Namjoon frowns, “are we keeping you?”

“No,” Jennie finishes off her drink, “this is a weekly thing. We’re mostly a breakfast and lunch diner. We’re not 24 hours. Small crew stays on when Jinnie comes by and we catch up. It’s just us and my dad right now. He’s probably upstairs in our apartment anyway.”

“Convenient.” Namjoon nods, finishing off his pancakes in one bite.

They chat for quite a while longer, Namjoon learns that Jennie is 16 years old and is in the process of working for scholarships to navigate the school system to become a victim advocate and interpreter. Namjoon is thoroughly impressed - even he didn’t have aspirations that high at that age. He suggests that maybe one day in a decade or so, they could go into practice together, she laughs and tells him she’ll schedule him in somewhere. She talks about school, the family, her friends, her dates. Father Kim tells her about the church, their friends, Easter celebration plans. Namjoon contributes and relates where he can.

When Jennie is starting to look like her energy is failing her, they settle the bill and help her clean up. She and Father Kim exchange cheek kisses and Namjoon watches him slyly slip an extra $20 into her apron pocket as they do. She hugs Namjoon good-bye too and ushers them out onto the sidewalk, locking the door and closing the blinds behind them.

“I’m full of more breakfast food than someone should be at this hour, and we’re walking? I always forget about walking.” Namjoon groans.

“I know,” Father Kim sighs, “but at least it’s a nice evening.”

“True enough.”

They head down the sidewalk at a more than leisurely pace, the silence between them is comfortable and easy. It hadn’t felt that way for a while; Namjoon had been worried for quite some time that Father Kim was irreversibly angry with him. That didn’t seem to be the case now.

“Can I ask you a question, Father?”

“Of course.”

“Was there some sort of ulterior motive behind you bringing me here tonight?”

“No,” Father Kim laughs, “of course not. Why would you think that?”

“You always have something or another up your sleeve. For a Priest, you’re very tricksy.”

“You’re right,” Father Kim laughs again, “I am always working on something. But tonight I just wanted to take you to one of my favorite places. Introduce you to some more of my family, cast your net a little wider. You never know who you’ll need to know and when you’ll need to know them. Also to distract you from Hoseok being out of town. You looked lonely. I didn’t like it.”

“I appreciate it, Father.  It’s silly, you know? He’ll only be gone a few days.”

“Mm, it’s not so silly,” Father Kim shakes his head and looks up at the cloud-streaked sky as they stroll along, “I’d say it’s pretty typical of love.”

They’re quiet for a moment, Namjoon takes that in thoughtfully.

“Father?”

“Hmm?”

“If you weren’t a priest, what would you be doing?”

“Pediatric cardiologist.” Father Kim nods with absolute certainty.

“Oh, wow,” Namjoon blinks, “that’s a high aspiration.”

“It’s an important profession. And I’d like a stethoscope. And I think a lab coat would suit me.”

“It would, I’m sure.” Namjoon laughs.

They round the corner and the church is in sight; as soon as it becomes visible, it’s like the weight of the world is pulling on Namjoon’s eyelids, he can’t recall being so sleepy after doing nothing in a very long time.

“Would you like to come into my office for some tea before I head to bed?” Father Kim offers as he unlocks the door to his rectory- a word Jungkook had taught Namjoon not too long before.

“Yeah,” Namjoon nods, “I could go for some tea.”

“Come in, make yourself comfortable,” Father Kim flicks on the light, “shoes off at the door, please. There are slippers right there.”

“Oh, of course.” Namjoon kicks his shoes off and picks a pair of slippers from a hanging shoe organizer on the back of the door to the office. Father Kim removes his jacket and lays it gently on a trunk at the foot of his bed. There’s a pink and blue flannel blanket covering the bed, and a black silk-like pillowcase on his pillow. A family picture sits on his bedside table, a crucifix hangs on the wall above his bed. He’s managed to give it a little character, at least.

“So welcome to my home,” he gestures, “it’s not much but it’s cozy. You can go ahead into my office, I’ll be right there.”

Namjoon slips into the office and sinks into his usual chair, it’s extra welcoming with his stomach heavy and his eyelids even heavier. He’s nearly drifted off when he hears the soft clinking of mugs against each other, Father Kim sets his mug down on the desk in front of him, and slides Namjoon’s across to him. He’s already in his pajamas, glasses on, relaxed.

“Ah, thank you.” Namjoon straightens up and sniffs the steaming mug.

“Chrysanthemum,” Father Kim blows on his tea, “there’s honey if you want.”

“No, no. This will be perfect.”

“Smells like my entire high school existence,” Father Kim sighs and takes a sip from his mug, “I could never sleep and we always had this tea around. It’s comforting now. It really feels like an end to the day.”

Namjoon dunks his tea bag a couple of times, fiddling with the tag. He takes a deep breath and steadies his nerves.

“Father?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“You’ve asked me many things today, why would now be different?”

“Okay, okay,” Namjoon laughs, “more like, can we have a brief conversation?”

“Very briefly, I’m incredibly busy.” Father Kim smirks over the rim of his mug, Namjoon laughs and shakes his head, more at ease with Father Kim’s obviously playful mood.

“I’ll keep it short.”

“Go on, then.”

“When Hoseok was in the hospital, and we went to see him, remember?”

“Of course.”

“When we came home, you kind of...hmm. You sort of told me off a bit.”

Father Kim sighs and places his mug aside, crossing his arms on top of his desk, his face soft and gentle.

“I had a suspicion that this would come up eventually,” He sighs, “first, I’d like to apologize for the way I handled that. I let the stress get the best of me and that’s not alright. Not as a Priest, not as a friend. I’m sorry for my anger.”

“It’s fine,” Namjoon nods, “it’s understandable, you care about Hobi, too.”

“I do. But let me explain myself. Not excuse myself, you see, but explain.”

“Please, go ahead.”

Father Kim takes a deep breath and a sip of tea before fixing his gaze on Namjoon; intent and strong, but not angry or scolding.

 “Let’s see, let’s see,” Father Kim drums his fingers on his desk, “how do I put this? We are...a collective of people here, Namjoon, and all of us are a little damaged. That goes for me, for you, Kookie, all of us are carrying something with us that shapes us and our personalities, influences our actions and decisions. I think it’s fair to say that almost no one who has wound up here, sitting where you are right now, has experienced something that rocked their entire world and put them there.”

“That’s probably true. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Every person existing out in the world today is living with some degree of hurt, some variety of trauma, big or small- it doesn’t matter. It’s all trauma. And some people have the type of personality where their trauma doesn’t harden them, it opens them up. Like Kook, or Jimin, or Hoseok. And that’s a beautiful thing, to open up despite having been hurt in the past.”

“I agree.”

“However,” Father Kim holds a hand up, “it can be...not so great at times. While being open and honest can gain you the trust and understanding of the people you’re opening up to, it also creates the sometimes false assumption in others that you’re not holding anything back, and that you have nothing to hide.”

“Right.”

“So, that may lead others to treat you in certain ways because they assume it’s all out on the table. They may not measure their actions or their words accordingly because they don’t know that maybe they should do so.”

“Okay…”

“And that’s no one’s fault,” Father Kim pauses for a drink of tea, “it’s not the fault of the person acting, or the person carrying the trauma. The person acting doesn’t know that they should handle certain situations in certain ways, and the person with the trauma won’t-or can’t- tell them, either to protect themselves, their loved one, or because they don’t even realize they’re holding anything back. Or because they’re trying their absolute best to hold back, because their trauma keeps them from breaking that barrier, or for the simple fact that they’re not ready to share or don’t feel obligated to do so.”

“No one is ever required to disclose anything that they don’t feel comfortable disclosing,” Namjoon nods, “I fully believe that.”

“Then you will accept when I tell you that when it comes to Hoseok, you have to use a little bit more tact when you’re telling him something that might persuade him to do the opposite of what’s best for him.”

“How do you mean?”

“Hoseok is very smart, and very strong,” Father Kim sits back in his chair, “but he is also incredibly willing to take the people he trusts at their word. Almost unquestioningly. So, using the hospital stay as an example- the doctors told him he needed to stay overnight for observation. That was true, and that’s what was best for his health and well being. Then, in opposition to that, his boyfriend comes to visit and tells him that he has every right to check himself out and leave, despite all medical advice. And he hears that, and he trusts you, and so that becomes the gospel, because he wants it to be. That’s not your fault, it’s not really even his fault, there’s no one at fault, it just is. He trusts you, you told him something that was true, yes, but was counterintuitive to his healing and exactly what he would have wanted to hear. So that’s why I said you have to be more careful when you’re choosing your words. Please consider the audience. Hoseok is by no means dumb or naive, but he will take what he wants to hear and run with it and once it’s worked its way into his head, it’s hard to rattle it out of there. That’s all I can say in the way of that.”

Namjoon blinks, processing what’s been laid out in front of him. He hadn’t considered that offering information about self-advocacy could have been counterproductive.

“I see,” Namjoon nods slowly, “that makes a lot of sense.  I guess I didn’t really consider...any of that.”

“And that’s why I said that I know you’re smart, and I know you’re trying to help. But in that case, it was not helpful, and I couldn’t exactly hush you in front of Hoseok.”

“No,” Namjoon laughs, “I don’t think you could.”

“And so that’s why I allowed myself to get angry. My stress and exhaustion had hit its peak, and that pushed me over. So I apologize, and I will do better.”

“I will do better, as well.”

The air is clear and it’s quiet for a moment as Father Kim finishes off his mug of tea.

“Can we also make sure that doing better includes not pressing Jungkook for info?” Father Kim smirks.

“Damn it.”

“It’s okay,” Father Kim laughs, “really. It’s natural to be curious.”

“I just want to know more about my partner.” Namjoon pouts.

“You will, in time, when he wants you to,” Father Kim nods, “in the meantime, just enjoy each other. And stop making Jungkook get all amped up like that, you would have thought he gave you nuclear launch codes or something.”

“He really didn’t. I think he thought he told me something I didn’t know, but Hoseok told me all about his prison stay and probation and all of that.”

“Good,” Father Kim nods slowly, “good. Just--don’t hassle the kid like that again. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Chapter Text

Good morning, Joonie~

Namjoon smiles at the screen as he wakes; it was the first time he’d heard from Hoseok in two days aside from the “I made it here” selfie he took, eyes glassy, skin shiny, hair disheveled, adorable. Namjoon may have even made it his phone’s wallpaper.

Good morning, Hobi <3

Are you having fun?

He rolls onto his back and stretches, it’s a bit early for him to be up on a Sunday, but he’s alright with lazing around in bed until it isn’t too late. His friends would be busy either working or attending the church service, then afterwards Jimin had his Sunday school class, maybe he’d pop in on that and bring the children’s food before seeing if Yoongi needed help in the kitchen. He’s got some laundry to put away, but he thinks he’ll put that off a while longer. 

He drifts in and out of sleep for a while longer until he can’t force himself back into the ether anymore and his stomach is too insistent. He rolls out of bed and  makes his way to the kitchen for a small snack; he usually sits down with the crew for breakfast after services and he doesn’t want to fill up before then. On his way, he presses his ear to Taehyung’s door and hears their fan blowing, their sleep playlist playing and he’s glad that they’re getting some solid sleep. Father Kim practically had to ban them from working and enlist the rest of the team to do so in the past couple of weeks; studying for and taking final exams was a full-time job, Taehyung didn’t need to be working on top of it.

After his teeth are brushed and he’s cycled through clothes trying to find the right combination of things for New York’s unpredictable spring weather, he heads out the door and makes his way to the church. He slips in the kitchen door just as the organ begins to play and Yoongi is sliding a massive tray of cinnamon rolls into the oven. 

“Good morning,” Namjoon slides up beside Yoongi, narrowly avoiding one of the youth group kids who is doing their academic community service in the kitchen, “need help?”

“Um,” Yoongi removes his oven mitts and hands them over to Namjoon, “put these in the dirties bin, and take the trash out?”

“On it.” Namjoon nods, chucking the mitts into the red bin under the metal prep table and grabbing the near-overflowing rolling trash can, wheeling it to the back door as one of the volunteers swiftly replaces it with an empty one. There really was quite a harmony to a busy kitchen sometimes. 

On his way back in, he makes a pitstop to wash his hands before venturing to the all-purpose room, the door is open and children’s voices fill the hallway, excited over seeing their friends  and using craft materials. The day’s activity was to make Easter art, whichever way the small children wanted to interpret it.  Namjoon waves his hand exaggeratedly to get Jimin’s attention, he’s got a little blonde toddler in his arms, resting on his hip; he bounces her as he supervises the others and it looks right, parenthood suited him. Jimin glances up at him, then to the clock, and holds one hand up, closing it and opening it again.  Namjoon holds both his hands up, fingers splayed out, then taps his wrist, mouthing ‘ten minutes’ clearly enough for him to decipher. Jimin nods and gets back to asking the children about Easter and Resurrection and other assorted religious things, their little voices mix together as they answer all at once. 

Namjoon knocks on Father Kim’s door, Jungkook shouts for him to come in.

“Good morning!” Namjoon smiles as he closes the door behind him. 

“Good morning.” Jungkook echoes back, muffled, his cheeks puffed out with the last bite of cinnamon roll he’d taken.

“Timesheet?”

Jungkook points to the stack of green folders sitting on top of Father Kim’s laptop, Namjoon circles the desk and shuffles the folders until he finds his. He looks over his times and nods to no one in particular before signing it and putting it at the bottom of the stack.

“Can you give me mine? I need to take it to school,” Jungkook holds his hand out, Namjoon passes it over, “what are you doing here to sign so early? You nearly always have to be reminded.”

“I don’t have anything else to do when Hobi isn’t here.”

“Sure, blame it on Hoseok.” Jungkook teases, Namjoon reaches out and smacks him lightly on top of his head with the stack of folders.

“Don’t you have mini priest things to do?”

“Not for like 20 more minutes,” Jungkook holds up his cinnamon roll, “and I was hungry. Yoongi gave me a super fresh one. It’s really sticky. Five star rating.”

“I’m serving children breakfast in like 5 minutes, so you can enjoy your stickiness in peace.”

Jungkook takes another big bite and nods, waving Namjoon goodbye. Namjoon makes his way back to the kitchen, the cart full of children’s breakfast plates awaiting him. 

“Good to go?” He calls to Yoongi, who’s busy stacking plates at the end of the counter.

“All good! Thanks!” Yoongi calls back, not stopping for a moment to even look up from his task. Taehyung’s absence is notable, but it seems like they’re making do.

Namjoon rolls the cart to the all-purpose room, poking his head in before just busting in unannounced. The last of the children is at the small sink in the corner, Jimin helping them get glitter glue off of their little fingers. 

“Hey.” Namjoon whispers loudly, Jimin looks up as he dries the child’s hands.

“Class,” Jimin announces with a smile, the children go quiet, “look who’s here at the door!”

Tiny heads turn to face him, the room erupts into a din of little voices shouting Namjoon’s name. He squats and a handful of them rush to him, he squeezes them all into a hug. Jimin smiles and lets it go on for a few moments before regaining control of his room.

“Alright, alright,” he half-shouts over the chaos with a smile, “let’s take our seats so we can have our eats!”

Little feet shuffle back to their place settings and sit as still as toddlers can as Namjoon rolls the cart in, Jimin helping him set little melamine plates, little spoons and forks, and little plastic cups down at each child, eventually making their way to the end of the long, collapsable table.

“Okay class,” Jimin holds his hands up, then clasps them in front of him, “hands together, heads down, hearts open, thanks out loud.”

The children follow his lead and Namjoon is kind of impressed as they begin their call-and-response style prayer. It’s a little culty, but the children’s voices are cute, so it’s hard not to be won over, at least a little. When the prayer is done, the children look up expectantly at the two of them at the front of the room.

“What do we say now?” Jimin asks expectantly.

“Thank you, Mister Namjoonie.” The class says in as close to a unison as they can.

“Thank you, friends.” Namjoon gives them a bow.

“You may eat.” Jimin announces, and soon the room is filled with tiny mouths making little eating noises, and maybe, just maybe, Namjoon can imagine Hoseok and himself with one of their own.

Jimin leans back against the wall next to Namjoon, arms crossed over his chest, watching the children intently.

“They’re great, aren’t they?” He asks without looking away from them. 

“They are, I guess. You’re good with them.” 

“Thanks,” Jimin looks over and smiles, then looks back to his classroom, “it feels like this is what I was born to do.”

“You looked right with a kid on your hip.”

“It feels right,” He nods, “I think I must have done this a million times in past lives or something.”

One small child with a mop of dark hair raises her hand, fingers spread wide, a displeased look on her face.

“Mister Jimin,” she pouts, “I’m sticky.”

“That’s okay, Haru! We can wash our hands,” he assures her with a nod, then turns back to Namjoon, “duty calls.”

“I’ll get out of your hair.”

“What do we say, class?” Jimin asks as he leads the child to the sink.

“Good-bye, Mister Namjoonie!”

“Good-bye, children!” Namjoon calls back and pulls the door shut behind him.

He’s just about to make a quick stop at the bathroom when he feels his phone buzz in his pocket, Hoseok’s ringtone muffled but distinct. He fumbles for a minute but manages to pull it out, answering just barely before it goes to voicemail.

“Hey, babe!” He smiles, hoping Hoseok can hear how happy he is to hear from him.

“Hi, Joonie! How are you?” 

“Well, I miss you,” Namjoon makes his way to the back door, he’d rather take the call outside than awkwardly stand in the hallway, “but other than that I’ve been very busy today.”

“Oh? What have you been doing?”
“BIt of this, bit of that,” Namjoon dodges Yoongi and the dirty look Yoongi shoots him for being in his kitchen again , “but what about you? Are you having fun?”

“I am! Today we- Dawon, say hi!”

“Hi, Namjoon!”

“Hi, Dawon!” Namjoon laughs.

“He says hi back. Anyway,” Hoseok sighs, “today we’re getting our nails done, Dawon says I need a manicure and she’s the boss. And then I’m going to go back to the hotel and take a nap while she does business things, and then after that we’re going to the salon, and then we’re going to dinner.”

“The salon?”

“Yeah, we’re going to get our hair done!”

“Oh? What are you getting done?”
“I don’t know, I’ll see where my mood takes me, maybe up, up and away.” Hoseok laughs.

“Whatever you do, you’ll look beautiful.”

“Stop,” Hoseok giggles, Namjoon swears he can hear him blush, “I just wanted to say hi and I love you and I miss you so much. Next time we do this, you should come with me!”

“I’d love that.”

“Huh? Oh, Dawon says if you do come she’ll pay for everything for me but not you until you make an honest man out of me.”

“Tell her I’ve got my own money, I don’t need no woman.”

“He says he has his own money and don’t need no woman,” his voice is muffled, “she said good, get that money.”

“I’m working on it.” Namjoon laughs.

“I gotta go because our appointment is real soon, but I love you and I’ll send pictures, okay?”

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you!”

The line goes quiet and Namjoon smiles as he slides his phone back into his pocket. While yes, he did miss Hoseok probably a bit too much, hearing him interact with his sister and how thrilled he was just to be with her, the great time that they were having, it made him happy. He was glad that they could be two whole, separate people with their own lives, even if he did count down the minutes until they weren’t doing their own things anymore.

Right now, his own thing was heading up to his apartment and studying; if he was going to get back into his old school and finish his degree, he had a long road ahead of him. He’d been studying here and there for a few months, but he was ready to take it more seriously- if he was going to make it in for the spring semester, he’d have to push, push, push.

Taehyung is sitting on the couch in their pajamas, unruly hair pulled up into a semi-bun on top of their head. They scroll their phone with one hand, a sausage roll in the other.

“Oh, hey,” Namjoon kicks his shoes off, “good to see you.”

“Hey,” Taehyung yawns, “good morning.”

“You doin alright?” Namjoon plops down in his usual armchair. Taehyung fixes their gaze on him, Namjoon nods knowingly.

“It’ll be over soon.” Taehyung pops the last of their sausage roll in their mouth and sighs, sinking back into the couch, kicking their feet up on the coffee table.

“And we’ll support you until it is.”

“That’s what Jimin said.”

“We mean it.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Would it bother you if I study out here?”

“Nope,” Taehyung shakes their head, “not my degree, not my panic.”

“Fair.” Namjoon laughs as he makes his way to his room to grab his books. 

Namjoon settles in on the couch next to Tae, who continues to silently scroll. The quiet company is nice, but after a couple of hours, he’s itching for a little conversation.

“Tae, can I ask you about yourself?”

“Sure.” Tae answers, half-aware.

“Have you come out to your family? Do you come out as non-binary? Do you consider yourself non-binary? Does that influence your sexual preference at all? What is your sexual preference, if you don’t mind?”