Namjoon has always seemed a little out of reach.

He's always physically close by, long fingers swiping down Yoongi's arm softly, hand resting on his back with a comforting assurance. Always there when he's needed.

But something mysterious about him, something keen and giving yet ultimately unreachable.

They've never had The Talk, and the few times Yoongi has danced around the subject delicately, he gets a head tilt and a gentle smile in return.

"I just want to make you happy, that's all."

Is that so?

Yoongi frowns, dragging his eyes across Namjoon's sleeping profile next to him in bed, taking notes of the relaxed brows, the plush lips that are a little parted, the faintest hint of a dimple near the corner of his mouth...

He gulps, pushing away the strange sensation twisting in his stomach.

Yoongi is very much in control of his life. The routines, the finessing of details at work, down to the carefully curated list of few friends kept at a safe distance from his heart, he's created a cozy little bubble to exist in. So it confuses him recently, on a perfectly lonely Saturday night, when he suddenly craves the deep honeyed voice calling out to him, as the set of strong arms would envelop him from behind, swallowing him whole in warmth.

Baby.

Yoongi's skin tingles at the memory of the word, uttered countless times last night in the dark. He curls his toes under the blanket and finds himself leaning towards the sleeping figure, gravitating.

He sighs and turns away instead.

Frigging ridiculous.

His eyelids droop yet mind stays irritatingly awake. It's too early for Sunday morning. People sleep in, right? He stops himself from shifting, trying hard not to disturb.

"Thinking about work again?" Yoongi stiffens at the words from behind, but a hand lands on his back gingerly, drawing comforting lines down his spine over his ripped tee, as his eyes flutter closed to the touch.

It's maddening how much he likes it, the soft touches, never intruding, never asking for more, but just enough heat to warm up his skin, to scratch at his heart, unravelling it just a tad.

He grumbles, and hears Namjoon's familiar chuckle, laced with drowsiness, "You should really sleep more."

"I always wake up at the same time in the morning, can't help it."

The stroking continues, and Yoongi catches himself leaning into it and rolls around abruptly, stopping it all, "You're still here."

"Was I supposed to leave?"

"Well I never asked you to come in the first place." His voice comes out icier than he expected, drawing a tinge of regret.

"You didn't ask, but you texted me at 2 in the morning, I'd say that's an invitation."

His cheeks flush but he tries to sound unaffected, "Well I was drunk."

"You opened the wine after I came and had two sips before dumping the glass out because of the white rug. You were not drunk."

An eye roll, "fuck you make me sound so boring and old."

"That you are definitely not, kitten."

Yoongi grimaces at the nickname and tried to snap back, but only a hollow little gasp comes out, for he remembers the way Namjoon called him that in the dark, as his hands dug into his hips, pressed them down with authority.

Yoongi blinks and focuses. Fuck, what's with him. Usually even the thought of being touched repulses him. Too warm, too close, so foreign that he needs a drink just to be able to tolerate holding hands with someone.

But this feels different. Since when did Namjoon become more than just someone? Hasn't he been trying to keep him at bay, when did he fail?

"You look upset. What is it?" Namjoon coerces gently, turning around and opening his arm a little to expose a perfect little nook by his chest, skin taut and radiating warmth, the dimples on his cheeks deepening.

Yoongi frowns but leans in, slotting himself into the spot, feeling Namjoon's arm landing on his torso carefully. He smells faintly of pheromones and kindness, and it's, to his reluctant realization, comforting.

"I don't want this."

"Don't want what, baby?"

"I don't want you - I don't need -" his voice trails off, as his head lowers and tucks into Namjoon's chest more.

"But it feels good? Feels good to receive, I hope? Did you like the new stereo system I sent over? Does the music help you write? And maybe a new laptop too? Yours looks old, and I saw you swearing under your breath when it took half an hour to load..."

"I don't need stuff." But the music did help, and it's kinda sweet that he noticed these small things.

"And I should bring you more food, you feel bonier." A sigh, as he threads his hand through Yoongi's hair lazily, "I gotta say, you do such a terrible job at taking care of yourself. I really should send over food more."

"What's the point, I forget to eat anyways." Which is a lie, he was always grateful when food was delivered out of nowhere, touched, almost.

"I'd come and feed you if I have the time. Feed you and tuck you into bed every night, make sure you're plump and well rested in no time." His breathes graze by Yoongi's skin, faint little puffs that make him tingle.

"What do you get out of all this?"

"I dunno, 2am texts apparently."

"Is that all you want? Some random texts at the worst hours?" Most people want more, they want a release, a commitment, they don't give love unless they receive.

Another soft chuckle, "Yes. That's all I want, for you to text me once in a while, let me take care of you, coddle you and give you things. It makes me happy, seeing you happy."

"But don't you have - you know, needs? How much time can you waste on me? Where would you go from here?"

The hand lingering on his arm hesitates, and the light that swirls in Namjoon's eyes dims. His voice lowers, "I wanted a lot once before, I was greedy and it hurt someone greatly. I think I'm much better giving than receiving, wouldn't you agree? Isn't it nice to know that there's nothing you need to give, that I'm just here to make you happy?"

Yoongi doesn't quite know how to respond.

Is it better to give or to receive? Is it wrong to enjoy being coddled for once, when all his life, people have felt intimidated by him, assumed he'd want to be left alone?

His thoughts are muddled, torso slacked into the embrace, unsure whether he should lean in more or pull away.

A moment of silence falls between them, until Namjoon eventually pipes up again, "So, choices for the day: want me to make you breakfast or get out of your hair already?"

Yoongi sniffs at his scent and mulls it over.

"I have a list of things to do today..."

"Fair enough -"

He cuts Namjoon off, "But..."

"But?"

He gulps, bites into his lower lip before continuing, "But maybe a car ride?"

"A car ride..."

He nods, averting Namjoon's gaze, "Yeah. We can grab a coffee on the way."

He pictures it, Namjoon steering with one hand with that air of assurance and control, and the other hand resting next to his thigh, just shy of touching, but unmistakably there, as he gazes out of the passenger window, glancing over the crowd from a safe distance.

It will be lovely.

A pause, then he could almost feel Namjoon's smile beaming through his voice, "I can do that. We just drive."

Yoongi hums contently. He looks up and meets those dark brown eyes, swimming in the kindness within, feeling his heart opening up a little bit more. To his own surprise, he finds himself leaning up and brushing his lips against Namjoon's jawline lightly.

Hazy memory flashes across his mind, of teeth tugging on Namjoon's plush lips last night, pulling and biting, some desperate need escaping from within in the heat of the moment, desperate for something tactile, something tangible and real to hurt and hold onto.

But in the bright morning sunlight, the desire has receded back deep within, replaced by a timid itch, a gentle need for the slightest reciprocation.

A gesture of gratitude, maybe.

And there's no bite to it, none whatsoever.

Yoongi feels a tiny swoop in his stomach, when Namjoon smiles back at him.

FIN