Archive of Our Own ^beta

There’s a loud sneeze coming from behind the closed door, and only when Namjoon pries it open with his leg does he hear the sound of muffled sniffles. Taehyung’s curled up on the bed, cocooned in blankets, his nose red from the cold he’s been fighting.

“Jin hyung made you another glass of ginger tea,” Namjoon says softly, balancing a green ceramic frog mug—Taehyung’s favorite. He adjusts his pace as he approaches, trying not to spill a drop.

Across the room, Hoseok sighs, his face buried in Jungkook’s nape, who’s finally managed to drift off to sleep. He looks visibly relaxed now, relieved that the room no longer smells overwhelmingly of sweat and stress.

The air, though, still tinged with the faint scent of burnt cherries and brown sugar.

“Here, Taehyung-ah,” Namjoon murmurs as he places the mug on the nightstand. Taehyung’s eyes crack open, tired yet appreciative, and he manages a small smile at the sight of his favorite mug. “Thanks, hyung,” he whispers.

Namjoon settles at the edge of the bed, glancing over at Jungkook and Hoseok, who have relaxed into soft, even breaths.

“Go back to sleep until dinner time, okay?” Namjoon says as he stands up, the dips on the bed from his weight spring back to life.

“‘mkay,” Taehyung manages to say after taking a sip of the tea. “I love you, hyung.”

Namjoon smiles and the weight in his chest lifts a little at the sight of his mate, eyes puffy from sleep. “I wish I could kiss you right now.”

Taehyung shakes his head softly, “getting you sick is the last thing we all want.”

“Right,” Namjoon agrees although he’s still a little bit sad. Because usually, it’s Taehyung who never skips any opportunity to be kissed and showered with physical affection. “Shout my name if you need anything, yeah?”

“I will, hyung.”

Namjoon shuts the door behind him, letting the savory aroma from the kitchen guide his steps. The smile on his face grows when he enters and sees Jin and Jimin locked in a kiss, their matching aprons slightly askew as they stand in front of freshly chopped spring onions and a bubbling pot of what must be dak gomtang.

“Do I get a kiss too, or is that reserved for sous-chefs only?” Namjoon teases, the remark startles the pair, making them pull apart, their cheeks flushed and lips bitten red.

“Come here, Joon-ah,” Jin says, extending an inviting hand Namjoon would never dream of rejecting. “The secret ingredient for this soup is love. The more love in this kitchen, the better it’ll taste.”

Jimin snorts, breaking into laughter. “That’s so corny, hyung.”

Jin raises an eyebrow, a mix of sultry and mock indignation on his face. “Corny or not, you were definitely enjoying your role as the participant a minute ago.”

Before Namjoon can chime in, both of them wrap him in a hug. It’s Jin who claims the first kiss, slow and tender, as his fingers toy with Namjoon’s bottom lip—his favorite fixation. Namjoon hears Jimin whine in protest.

“Hyung, stop hogging him!” Jimin protests, prompting Jin to deepen the kiss even more out of sheer mischief. “You’re so mean,” he whines, playfully nudging Jin aside. But the pout doesn’t last long before Jimin pulls Namjoon down for his own kiss.

They savored the moment for a while. Jin doesn't say anything and Namjoon smiles into the kiss, knowing him and Jimin are definitely making a good show for their hyung.

The bubbling sound from the pot grows louder, breaking the spell as Namjoon and Jimin pull away from their kiss. They turn their heads just in time to see Jin, still gazing at them with unfiltered adoration. It takes him a moment to snap out of his trance before he hurriedly moves to turn off the stove, his cheeks faintly flushed.

“Well, that was a close one,” Jin says.

"You smell like sweat and cigarettes, hyung," Jimin murmurs, his nose brushing against Namjoon's neck. A soft sigh escapes him as he finally catches Namjoon's familiar scent beneath the layers.

Namjoon’s grin falters for just a second. He sniffs at his shirt, his fingers tugging at the fabric absentmindedly. “Ah, yeah. My co-workers stopped me to talk about a few rising problems on our project right outside the office and they were smoking. I didn’t have a choice,” he explains lightly, but there’s a faint heaviness in his voice that doesn’t go unnoticed.

“You didn’t even change after work,” Jin points out. His gaze lingers for a beat too long, taking in Namjoon’s hunched shoulders and the dark circles under his eyes. “Joon-ah, when did you last get proper sleep?”

Namjoon huffs a quiet laugh, shrugging. “I sleep,” he says with a faint smile. “You’ve seen me nap on the couch.”

“Napping isn’t sleeping, hyung. And I’ve noticed you getting out of bed a lot these days. At first, I thought you were sneaking midnight snacks,” Jimin says, stepping closer and tilting his head as if to study Namjoon’s face. “But now I know you’ve not been sleeping well.”

“It’s just been a long few weeks,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “Especially this week—deadlines, meetings... even the sink’s been acting up a few times. You know how it goes. And then Tae and Kook got sick, and I’ve been worrying nonstop. I just can’t help it.”

“And you’re carrying it all on your shoulders,” Jin interjects, stepping closer with a firm yet gentle tone. “Go shower, Joon-ah. Change into something comfortable.”

“Yeah, we’ve got this,” Jimin says, gesturing dramatically toward the dish they’re cooking, like he’s some kind of master chef.

Namjoon hesitates, glancing between them, his lips pressing into a thin line. “But I’m the pack alpha,” he murmurs, though the weight in his voice makes the words sound less like a declaration and more like an excuse.

Jin presses a quick kiss to Namjoon’s cheek. “And even alphas need to rest, Joon-ah,” he says gently.

Namjoon sighs, his shoulders sinking as he realizes how futile it is to hide his exhaustion from them—his mates, who see right through him. “You’re right, hyung,” he finally admits. He turns and begins heading toward the hallway. “Let me know if you need—”

“—Don’t even think about sneaking back to help!” Jimin interrupts, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he giggles, clearly pleased with himself for guessing exactly what Namjoon was about to say.

“Fine, fine,” Namjoon mutters, a faint chuckle escaping his lips as he disappears down the hall.

“He always does this,” Jimin whispers, clearly worried.

Jin sighs, shaking his head as he resumes preparing the meat. “That’s why we’ll always catch him before he burns out.”

✿

Namjoon’s hand pauses mid-air, halfway to clenching into a fist to knock on the oak door of the guest room. He notices it’s not fully closed, the faint gap inviting him to peek inside. Figuring he’d check in on Yoongi—who hadn’t been around when Namjoon arrived home and, as he later discovered, had been holed up here all day—he decides to greet him before heading off to shower.

He pushes the door open slowly, careful not to let the creaking hinges, which they’d been meaning to fix, startle his mate.

“Hi, Joon-ah,” Yoongi greets without looking up, his eyes still fixed on the screen in front of him. The soft, rhythmic clicking of the keyboard fills the room, blending with the familiar scent of Yoongi that quickly wraps around Namjoon as he closes the door behind him.

“Hey, I missed you,” Namjoon says, stepping closer to hug Yoongi from behind. His arms carefully avoid interfering with Yoongi’s hands on the keyboard.

“I didn’t realize you were home until I heard some chatter,” Yoongi says, finally stopping what he was doing. He looks up, their bodies visibly relaxing as their lips meet in a soft kiss. “I need to finish this soon so I can take turns with Hoseok taking care of the sick babies.”

Namjoon sighs, resting his chin on Yoongi’s shoulder. “Don’t push yourself too hard.”

Yoongi chuckles, leaning back slightly against Namjoon. “That should be my line, Joon-ah. I heard a little of what Jin hyung said earlier.”

Namjoon groans, burying his face briefly against Yoongi’s neck. “I can’t help it. There’s just been so much going on these past few weeks. The overtime at work has been brutal, and with Tae and Kook getting sick—everyone’s been sick at some point, one after another.” His voice grows quieter. “Jimin hurt himself rushing to work a while ago, and for weeks, Jin hyung woke up earlier than usual to drive him until he recovered. I hated myself for not being able to drive… And I just—” He pauses, exhaling heavily. “I’m trying to keep everything in check, you know? I want to make sure everyone’s okay, even with my own work piling up.”

Yoongi’s hand reaches up to cup the back of Namjoon’s neck. “Joon-ah, you’re not a one-man show. Sure, you’re the pack alpha, but I’m also the pack omega for a reason. Hell, we have a house full of people. We’re a pack. We always have been. You don’t have to carry everything on your shoulders alone. Let us share some of it, even the weight of your thoughts.”

Namjoon hums, acknowledging what Yoongi just said. He closes his eyes, leaning into Yoongi’s touch. For a moment, the weight he’s been carrying feels a little lighter, even if just in Yoongi’s presence.

Yoongi was the first for so many things in Namjoon’s life. His first best friend, the one he spent endless afternoons with, playing hide-and-seek and getting into trouble when their moms found them sneaking snacks before dinner.

The first person Namjoon shared his love for writing with, shyly showing Yoongi his messy notebook filled with poems and lyrics. He was also the first person Namjoon accidentally flashed when his towel slipped after a swim, leaving Yoongi laughing so hard he fell to the ground.

The first person Namjoon kissed, tentative and shy, and later kissed again, less tentative and far less shy.

Yoongi was also the first person to see Namjoon drunk, a mess of slurred words and philosophical tangents, and still called him beautiful.

And, of course, Yoongi was Namjoon’s first mate—the one who made him feel like his entire world had shifted in the most extraordinary way.

Namjoon loves all of his mates with everything he has. He couldn’t imagine a life without their love—through the highs, the lows, and all the chaos in between. But sometimes, in moments like this, when stress gnaws at him and his thoughts refuse to settle, Namjoon finds himself selfishly craving Yoongi’s presence alone. Just the two of them, like it used to be—when they were mischievous kids getting into trouble and nerdy, overly curious teenagers stumbling through firsts together.

“You smell like you’re about to get sick,” Yoongi says, scrunching his nose.

“Don’t say that, Yoongi-ah… I can’t get sick,” Namjoon whines, stepping back from Yoongi as if putting some distance would somehow erase the scent Yoongi was picking up.

“It’s just… I know that smell.”

“Of course you do,” Namjoon sighs.

“No, it’s different,” Yoongi insists, turning to face him in his spinning chair, his gaze sharp and knowing.

“I’m just tired…” Namjoon tries to reason, though even he knows it sounds flimsy, especially after what just happened in the kitchen. “I’ll make sure to get more sleep tonight and take some vitamins.”

Yoongi raises an unimpressed eyebrow, his expression giving nothing away. He glances briefly at his screen, saves his work with a quick click, and claps his hands as if signaling a decision. “You know what? I’m due for a break. Go shower, change, and let’s lay down for a bit before dinner.”

“No, I can’t,” Namjoon protests, shaking his head. “What if they need me? To grab a fresh towel or fetch something? What if Kook’s fever went up again? What about dinner? Do we even have enough salt? Pepper? Meat? And—”

“Namjoon,” Yoongi cuts him off, “we have seven people in this house. Five of them are healthy. Even if you and I step back, that still leaves three people to handle everything for a little while.”

“But—”

“Please, love?” Yoongi interrupts again, his pout perfectly calculated—a weapon he knows Namjoon can never resist. Not now, not ever. “They’ll be fine. They can handle themselves. Let’s turn off our brains for a bit, hm?”

Namjoon hesitates, his resolve faltering as his eyes linger on Yoongi. His hair is a little messy but soft, and the oversized sweater—if Namjoon remembers right, it’s Jin-hyung’s—makes him look impossibly cozy. There’s something so gentle, so soothing about Yoongi in this moment that the idea of lying down with him feels like the kind of comfort Namjoon didn’t realize he was craving. 

“But if someone calls me, I’m getting up,” he says as he finally turns toward the door, ready to shower.

“Sure, Joon-ah,” Yoongi shrugs, there's a knowing tilt to his lips, as if daring his mate to prove him wrong—though they both know Namjoon won’t hear a single call once he’s wrapped in Yoongi’s arms.

✿

Despite knowing what's waiting for him, Namjoon lingers under the hot spray of the shower, letting the water carve paths down his tired frame. He works the soap over his skin, scrubbing away the persistent traces of strangers, cigarettes, and sweat. His shoulders ache, and a low groan escapes him as he rolls them back, though Namjoon can’t deny the strange satisfaction of the water beating against the tension in his muscles.

Once the last suds are rinsed away, he grabs his worn grey towel, patting himself dry with quick, practiced motions. A cozy sweater and a pair of loose sweatpants come next, before Namjoon sets off in quick strides, his damp hair dripping faintly against his collar, heading straight to where he knows Yoongi is waiting.

The first thing Namjoon notices as he steps into the room is the biting chill. The air conditioner hums quietly in the corner, its display glowing at 16°C. His lips curve into a small smile at the sight.

Namjoon hadn’t expected Yoongi to remember, let alone act on it. But here it is: an old habit from his high school days, revived as if no time had passed.

That summer was etched in Namjoon’s mind. Yoongi’s parents had decided on an extended romantic getaway abroad, leaving their son in the care of Namjoon’s family.

That was when Yoongi discovered Namjoon’s peculiar little habit: setting the air conditioner ridiculously low before taking a shower. Namjoon loves his showers hot—scalding, even—and stepping back into a cold room afterward is his way of cooling down. Yoongi, on the other hand, would groan every single time, burying himself under Namjoon's blanket, muttering complaints about how he was going to turn into an icicle. But he never actually turned the air conditioner off. Not once. Because, like the softie that he was, Yoongi could never bring himself to mess with something that makes Namjoon happy.

Years later, now that they are mates—older, wiser, but no less full of quirks—Yoongi still indulges Namjoon’s little habits. It's one of the many things Namjoon adores about him, those gestures that remind him exactly why he fell in love with his mate in the first place.

With the room chilled just like it was back then, Namjoon can’t help but feel the subtle tug of nostalgia in his chest.

“Ah… Since we don’t use this space much, the bed smells strange,” Yoongi says, breaking the quiet. Namjoon stands in the middle of the room, arms crossed, watching as Yoongi fluffs the pillows and shakes out the blanket freshly pulled from the cupboard.

“Strange how?” Namjoon asks.

“Just… weird. I’m so used to our scent—all of us—being on the mattress and pillows.” Yoongi rubs his wrist over one of the pillows, then brings it to his nose. His pout deepens when the faintest hint of tangerine tart doesn’t seem strong enough. “I should’ve scented this first when you showered,” he mutters, rubbing the pillow a little harder.

“I can wait,” Namjoon says softly after a moment. He knows Yoongi is particular about these things, even if he doesn’t like to admit it. He’s just as meticulous as Jimin and Jungkook when it comes to tidying their bed space or building their nests.

Namjoon doesn’t mind, though. He loves watching his mates create their nests, no matter how long it takes for them to let him crawl inside. But he can’t help worrying when he senses their frustration, the subtle shift in their scent turning sour, brows knitting together when something doesn’t feel quite right.

So Namjoon waits, standing quietly as Yoongi works. The sound of fabric being adjusted fills the room along with the faint buzz of the air conditioner. It’s these moments that make Namjoon feel at home. With Yoongi and the rest of the pack—this is what it means to be theirs.

“This will do,” Yoongi finally says, hands resting on his hips as he surveys the bed one last time. His sharp eyes flick toward the air conditioner. “Cooled down enough? What do you think about changing it to 23°, Joon-ah?” he asks, AC remote already in hand.

“Yeah, that’s perfect,” Namjoon replies as he leans in to press a kiss to Yoongi’s temple. He plops face-down onto the bed with a content sigh. “Thank you, hyung.”

Moments later, he feels Yoongi’s weight settle on his back, his voice vibrating gently through his neck, low and drowsy. “You’re so warm… I think I could fall asleep like this.”

Namjoon chuckles, muffled against the pillow. “Am I your mate or your personal heater, hyung?” Before Yoongi can answer, Namjoon flips over, dragging Yoongi down with him, earning a startled yelp.

“I almost fell off, you prick!” Yoongi jabs a finger into Namjoon’s chest, but the grin stretching across his face betrays him. Without missing a beat, he slides under the blanket at the same time as Namjoon.

They both let out a soft sigh, contentment settling over them. Their limbs, as if guided by instinct, gravitate toward each other like perfectly aligned magnets.

“Your feet are cold,” Namjoon says, though he doesn’t pull away.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Duh, I was the one freezing in here while you were in the shower. I was like galbi in a freezer.”

Namjoon laughs, his chest vibrating beneath Yoongi’s hand. “Well, thank you,” he says, stealing a quick kiss from Yoongi’s pout. “Aren’t you the best?”

“You better believe it.” Yoongi scoffs, though his eyes are soft as he nestles closer. “This takes me back. When was the last time we ended up like this?”  

Namjoon hums, his gaze briefly drifting before returning to Yoongi’s. “A few months ago? Could’ve been a year, honestly. Time’s a blur.”  

“But this is nice,” Yoongi says, his voice lighter now as he inches closer. They’re lying on their sides, faces just inches apart, and Yoongi can feel the soft tickle of Namjoon’s hair brushing his cheek. “How are you doing?”

Namjoon chuckles, his hand finding its way to Yoongi’s lower back, resting there like it’s always meant to be. “A lot more relaxed. Kind of sleepy. My brain’s still buzzing, though. Feels like there are voices I can’t quite push away.”  

Yoongi’s eyes flicker with concern, but Namjoon is quick to disarm it with a small smile. “I wish there was a button to swap those voices for brown noise or something,” Namjoon jokes.

“Hobi would hate that,” Yoongi replies, “he says it sounds like a seastorm.”  

Yoongi shifts, settling himself into the crook of Namjoon’s shoulder, and Namjoon’s eyes instinctively close as Yoongi starts scenting him.

“I guess we love it because we grew up near the sea,” Yoongi says after a while.

Namjoon hums in agreement, his nose still buried in the top of Yoongi’s head, the comfort of the moment too precious to let go of.

This takes him back. To the summers when he used to be smaller than Yoongi, fitting perfectly into the crook of his best friend’s neck. Then came the summer before 10th grade when Namjoon shot up like a weed, suddenly a head taller than Yoongi. That growth spurt made sharing a bed awkward, their teenage limbs tangled and uncooperative as they tried to find positions that didn’t leave someone hanging off the edge of their cramped beds.  

Yoongi used to grumble about it, playfully lamenting, “I miss little Namjoon. You used to fit so perfectly here.” He’d tap his neck, the spot where Namjoon used to softly snore, and reminisce about how, in that position, they could easily nap, motionless, for at least half an hour.

But Yoongi gave up soon enough. Now, he rests in the crook of Namjoon’s neck, his smaller frame curling into Namjoon’s long limbs, which wrap around him with ease.  

“You’re still thinking,” Yoongi says softly, his voice pulling Namjoon out of his spiraling thoughts.  

“I can’t help it, hyung,” Namjoon sighs, pulling back slightly so their eyes meet. “This… specific problem can push back everything, and I’m worried we won’t meet the goal.”  

“Is there anything you can do right now, this second, to change the outcome?”  

Namjoon draws in a sharp breath, his jaw tightening before he admits, “No…”  

Yoongi hums softly, his hand sneaking upward to comb through Namjoon’s hair. His weakness. His kryptonite. Or there's simply magic in all his mates fingers when they play with his hair.

“Then the best thing you can do right now is let your brain rest. If you’re too drained, how will you come up with a solution with your team tomorrow?”  

Namjoon exhales slowly, Yoongi’s words settling into the spaces where his tension used to sit. He knows Yoongi is right. He needs to leave work where it belongs and be present—here, now—for the people who love him.

"Don't stop," Namjoon mumbles, his lips grazing Yoongi’s skin as he notices the pause in Yoongi’s fingers threading through his hair. "I swear your touch is magic. Sometimes, I try playing with my own hair, pretending it’s you, and I actually feel myself relax." He exhales softly, eyes half-lidded. "You always do this when you're anxious, and it helps me too. A win-win situation, right?"

Yoongi hums, his fingers resuming their slow, absentminded motions. His nails are always short—a habit he forced himself to build after years of chewing them raw. It had taken time, but the irritation of broken skin had finally made him stop for good.

A loud noise echoes from beyond the door, and Namjoon instinctively jolts—well, almost. Yoongi’s hand presses gently against his chest, holding him in place before he can fully sit up.

“They probably just dropped something in the kitchen,” Yoongi says, “if it was serious, someone would be barging in here right now, Joon-ah.”

Namjoon doesn’t look convinced. His eyes stay locked on the door, waiting for any sign that he needs to get up. Then, Jin’s loud laughter cuts through the air, followed by Jimin’s muffled complaints.

“See? They’re fine,” Yoongi adds to his point, his fingers tracing slow circles over Namjoon’s arm.

Namjoon exhales, but his gaze flickers back to the door. “I should still check on them, though… just in case,” he says, eyes darting between Yoongi and the door.

That’s when Yoongi kisses him. Not to shut him up, not to distract him—just a soft kiss to tell Namjoon, without saying anything at all, that it’s okay to stay.

“Rest, Namjoon-ah,” Yoongi whispers.

Namjoon huffs out a quiet chuckle before leaning in again. The kiss deepens, slow and unhurried, like they have all the time in the world. Hands roam in lazy, absentminded caresses—no rush, no urgency, just feeling. The soft sighs, the warmth, the weight of Yoongi beneath his hands—it’s enough to let the tension finally ease from Namjoon’s body. The world outside fades, and for the first time in days, he lets go.

They don’t say anything after they part, but even with his eyes closed, Namjoon can feel Yoongi watching him. The weight of exhaustion settles deeper into his body. A yawn slips past his lips before he finally meets Yoongi’s gaze again.

“I feel like you look a lot more content than I do in this situation.”

Yoongi chuckles, “as the pack omega, I’m very pleased that I’m fulfilling my role perfectly.” Namjoon smiles when Yoongi’s scent turns sweeter. “As Min Yoongi, I just… love your sleepy face.”

“Cheesy,” Namjoon says through another yawn, barely keeping his eyes open. “Tae would love to hear those words come out of your mouth directed at him.”

“Oh, I love his sleepy face too,” Yoongi admits without hesitation. “I just happen to love teasing him a little more because he gets all cute when he whines.” He pauses, then adds playfully, “But don’t tell him that.”

Namjoon huffs out a sleepy laugh. Silence stretches between them after that. Then, a thought crosses his mind. “Do you still remember that one lullaby?”

“It’s kind of impossible to forget, don’t you think?”

Namjoon hums in agreement. There are some things from childhood that never fade, and for both of them, it’s the Song of the Sea lullaby. A melody only the two of them seem to know—passed down from their mothers, who sang it to them every night until they were old enough to learn the lyrics themselves.

It became their comfort. During the chaos of preparing for Suneung —when stress kept them up at night, when the fear of drifting apart if they didn’t get into the same university gnawed at them, when Yoongi’s house wasn’t the easiest place to be and he ended up staying over at Namjoon’s more often than not. They would sing it to each other while curling beside each other in bed.

“Can you sing it for me?” Namjoon finally asks, his voice quieter than before.

Yoongi stills for a second. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah… I mean, you don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable with it. It’s a childish thought, sorry.” Namjoon is already feeling embarrassed for asking.

“Hey, no, no,” Yoongi says quickly. “I was just… a little taken aback. We haven’t sung that song in years .”

“I think I’ll be able to sleep if you sing it.” Namjoon glances up at him, throwing in a pair of wide, pleading eyes for good measure—even though they both know Yoongi was never going to say no. “Please, hyung?”

Yoongi exhales, shaking his head fondly. “Okay,” he relents. “But no criticizing my sleepy singing voice.”

“Of course, love. Thank you.”

Yoongi shifts slightly, adjusting himself against the pillows, but instead of starting right away, he asks, “Why do you never ask Jungkook to sing for you? His voice is clearly on the angelic side of the spectrum.” He is being casual about it but Namjoon knows him too well—he’s buying time.

“I do love Jungkook’s voice,” Namjoon admits. “It’s beautiful, and I could listen to him sing for hours.” His fingers idly tracing shapes against Yoongi’s arm. “It’s different… with you. It takes me back to when we used to sing it—when it was just ours. How no one else seems to know the lullaby, but our moms did. It’s special.”

“Jungk—”

“Jungkook can learn it, I know,” Namjoon cuts in gently. “We should probably ask him to sing it because he’d definitely do it better than we ever could.” There's a fondness in his tone that Yoongi fully understands and shares the sentiment with. “But that’s not the point. This song—it’s tied to you. It’s not about whose voice I love more.” His fingers still for a moment against Yoongi’s skin. “It’s about the memories. It makes me feel like a—”

“Like a kid?” Yoongi finishes Namjoon’s sentence with a wide grin on his face.

“Not in a weird way.”

“I know. It taps into your inner child. When things were simpler. When our frontal lobes hadn’t fully developed.”

“Hyung…” Namjoon groans, rolling his eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it.

“Sorry,” Yoongi laughs, pressing a lazy kiss on Namjoon's temple. “Now shut up, listen to me, and go to sleep.”

“Spoken like a true gentleman,” Namjoon bites back playfully.

And so Yoongi sings. His voice is deeper now than it was back then, but just as soft. Namjoon sighs, eyes slipping shut as his ears pick up the first notes.

Between the winds, between the waves

Namjoon swears he can hear the ocean. The gentle crash of waves against the rocks, the distant call of the tide. The same beach they used to visit, just twenty minutes from home.

Between the sands, between the shores

Where he built his first sandcastle, where he first wrote Yoongi in the damp sand, tracing it over and over until the waves stole it away as he tried to deal with a realization that he had a crush on his best friend.

From the shell, a song of the sea
Neither quiet nor calm, searching for love again

Namjoon had already found his love. Perhaps all the love the world could ever offer him. He is content—with Yoongi beside him, with six mates who love him just as fiercely.

And that is the last thing Namjoon remembers before sleep finally takes him, Yoongi’s voice lulling him into dreams.

✿

Namjoon knows it was not a long nap, but he wakes up feeling refreshed—like he’d just slept through the whole night. He hears soft giggles, rustling, and quiet chatter. It takes a few seconds for his brain to slowly piece together the sounds.

“Hi, hyung,” Jungkook’s voice greets him from the edge of the bed.

Namjoon cracks his eyes open and pats the blanket covering him and Yoongi, inviting Jungkook closer. With no hesitation, Jungkook grins and happily climbs onto the bed. “You both look so cozy and cute. I’m so jealous, actually. I want to be sandwiched between you guys.”

Yoongi groans as he feels Jungkook’s weight pressing down on him. “So this is revenge? Squishing me under all those muscles?”

“You’ll never know,” Jungkook teases, but he easily settles into the space Yoongi makes for him. “Thank you.”

“I only did that because I couldn’t breathe,” Yoongi murmurs.

“I love you too, Yoongi hyung,” Jungkook says with a cheeky grin, making Namjoon chuckle.

“Looks like you’re feeling better.”

Jungkook nods. “The medicine finally kicked in. Still kinda nauseous, though.”

“That’s a good start,” Namjoon sighs, relief washing over him. “I’m so glad to hear that.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi agrees. “I miss hearing your chatter. And, as much as I hate to admit it, your incredible energy to tease me whenever you please.”

Jungkook beams. “Aw, hyung. You miss me.”

“Don’t push it,” Yoongi grumbles, but the small smile tugging at his lips gives him away.

Before Jungkook can respond, the door opens again, and Hoseok walks in, his smile widening at the sight in front of him. “Hey guys,” he greets before making his way to the bed, leaning down to press a kiss to each of their foreheads.

“And that was the pack’s serial forehead kisser,” Jungkook announces in his best National Geographic narrator voice.

“Flattering title,” Hoseok replies with a chuckle before straightening up. “Food is ready, and you better get your asses to the kitchen before it gets cold. Plus, Jin hyung will be pissed if anyone dares go back to sleep on an empty stomach—Jimin’s words, not mine.”

“Five more minutes,” Yoongi pleads, burrowing further into Jungkook’s side. “I was just getting to the good part of my dream.”

“Oh?” Hoseok quirks an eyebrow. “What was it about, hyung?”

“Not telling,” Yoongi replies. Then, with a completely straight face, he adds, “But it involves me doing unspeakable things to you.”

Hoseok freezes. “Okay, that’s not—you’re fucking with me.” Then, realizing what he just said, he sputters, “Shit—no, I mean—”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Yoongi smirks, delighted when Hoseok’s face flushes a deep shade of red. “Relax, Hoseok-ah. I’m just kidding. Though, I do love how you still get flustered at the idea of me having lewd dreams about you when we’ve been mates for more than seven years.”

Hoseok groans, rubbing his face while Jungkook lets out a loud cackle.

Namjoon, shaking his head fondly, looks over at him. “Where’s Taehyung?”

Hoseok recovers enough to answer. “Just got out of the shower, and he’s ready to eat.”

“He’s feeling better after the nap,” Jungkook adds, already anticipating Namjoon’s follow-up question.

“Come eat before the food gets cold!” Jin calls out from the kitchen.

“We better hurry,” Hoseok reminds them.

Before anyone can move, Yoongi opens his arms in demand as he says, “carry me, Joon-ah.”

“That’s not fair,” Jungkook whines. “If anyone should be carried right now, it’s me .”

“Hey, that doesn’t mean I should be counted out either,” Hoseok chimes in.

“How did I end up with the neediest pack in existence?” Namjoon sighs, shaking his head. But the laughter bubbling out of him betrays any real frustration. “You know what?” he says, still grinning. “I’ll start going to the gym more often so I can pick all three of you up at the same time. But for now, I’m not carrying anyone to the kitchen. I just woke up, and I’d rather not risk dropping you guys because my limbs still don’t fully cooperate after a nap.”

“I’ll carry Jungkook,” Hoseok announces confidently as Jungkook gets up and stands beside him. He hooks an arm under Jungkook’s knees, the other bracing his back, and tries to lift him. He barely gets him off the ground before stumbling. He tries again. Fails. Both of them burst into laughter, Jungkook clinging to him for balance as they shake with amusement. “God, you’re so heavy with all that muscle.”

“I better see the chairs full of my mates in three minutes max!!!” Jin screams from the kitchen, and that’s all it takes for Jungkook and Hoseok to scramble out of the room.

Namjoon finally sits up, stretching before turning to Yoongi, still curled up in the blankets. “That was a good nap,” he leans down to steal a soft kiss. “You always know how to get me to relax.”

“Of course.”

“I guess it makes sense… how we’re so in tune with each other. Crazy to think we’ve known each other since we were kids, huh, hyung? Sometimes my life almost feels like a fairytale. You, and five other mates? It’s too good. Sometimes I worry this is all just a dream.”

“Sometimes reality is just as sweet,” Yoongi replies. “And we’re two of the luckiest. I’m just as grateful.” Then, with a smirk, Yoongi tilts his head up expectantly. “Now… would you please carry me to the kitchen?”

Namjoon groans. “Hobi and Jungkook will protest. ”

“Please?”

Namjoon sighs, but the way he’s already positioning his arms around Yoongi says he’s not really resisting. “I guess…”

“Are you sure?” Yoongi teases as Namjoon lifts him effortlessly. “Because they’re definitely going to demand to be carried too.”

“It’s fine,” Namjoon shrugs as he steps out of the guest room, carrying Yoongi with ease. “I can carry them to bed later. Besides, I like doing it for them.”

“What if the whole pack starts demanding rides?”

“Then I’ll make as many trips as I have to,” Namjoon replies easily, “to carry and get everyone to bed tonight.”

Yoongi laughs, tucking his head against Namjoon’s shoulder. “You’re such a romantic.”

“What can I say?” Namjoon grins. “I have six amazing mates.”

As they enter the kitchen, they’re greeted by the mouthwatering scent of dinner—along with Jungkook and Hoseok’s loud protests and the rest of their mates immediately joining in, shouting requests for their turn to be carried later.

Namjoon just laughs. He wouldn’t trade this life for anything.