He let himself inside the house quietly, careful not to wake the other occupant of the house. Even after living together for over a decade, he knew not to disturb the precious leader's sleep so rare did the other man allow himself the pleasure these days. The whole band, and Jiyong especially were in the beginning stages of a new album, their comeback album at that, and the cycle of bouncing ideas off of producers and late night, sometimes into early morning meetings had started all over. To Jiyong, he knew, the whole thing came as easy as breathing, but then he thought with a quiet huff, so did forgetting to eat proper meals for days on end.

Padding softly to the dimly lit kitchen, he silently surveyed the empty boxes of takeout, from one of the Jiyong's favourite places, he noted but mostly because it was only two blocks away and the food always came the fastest.  Next his eyes travelled towards the living room, with its eclectic mix of furniture, high-end and avant garde as per his leader's taste. That had been a fight he remembered clearly, him complaining that it felt like coming home to a museum every day and Jiyong rolling his eyes and telling him to get more self-control when it came to his "pawing" as he called it.

"But hyuunnggg! Do you want me to be scared of walking in my own house?!"

"I don't see how it’s my problem that a man can grow up and still think neon anime figures are the epitome of art! Over my dead body are you bring that into my house!"

And he had huffed and walked away, arms crossed, full diva mode, while Seungri had dejectedly put his decidedly not neon (well maybe just a little, but it depended on how the light hit it!) figure down to trail after the other. One last look over his shoulder and a whispered promise to come back and buy it anyway, and he was off to find more questionable art to annoy his hyung with.

("I can just stash it at Youngbae-hyung's house anyway. At least he still loves me!”

"Yah! Lee Seungri, don't you dare!")

The memory still brought a faint smile to his lips as he looked over the room now. In the end, his only identity in the room was a chair shaped like a , that Seungri had bought himself as a gag housewarming gift. It was decidedly ugly, clashed horribly with the rest of the room and whenever they entertained, Jiyong always managed to suspiciously throw their biggest, fluffiest throw over it to cover its monstrosity but not once had either brought up throwing it out. In a way, he mused, it was a weird, side-ways metaphor for their life. Of how no matter how hard Jiyong fought in their decades together as members and then afterwards, a little bit more, he was powerless when it came to Lee Seungri. The latter had a way of worming into the leader's heart and always, he thought with a chuckle, getting his way.

And maybe the fact that Jiyong unabashedly loved his may have a factor.

His eyes didn't fail to notice however, that the ashtray that they mostly kept for show now was almost full of stubs and as he walked closer to inspect them, a couple of them looked to be recently discarded. Seungri knew there had a been a danger that Jiyong would fall back into his old vices once the stress of production really got under way, because he was nothing if not predictable and smoking was perhaps his greatest vice of all. Coupled with the empty takeout containers, Seungri knew the other was feeling the strain, probably spending long nights at the studio again working and mixing by himself after every other decent human had gone home to their warm bed. Usually, Top-hyung would be at the studio alongside him and at least the older would remember to nag for them to eat properly but with the eldest out of the country, Jiyong had apparently been left to his own devices and those devices had never been healthy.

"Aish hyung, what did I say…always trying to shoulder everything alone even now."

Shaking his head, he cleaned up quickly, emptying the tray and cartons in the trash, and wiping down the counter. He noted the other hadn't even bothered to pull out of a plate or proper cutlery, eating with only what the restaurant had provided. A sudden yawn racked him, and he glanced at the clock.

Late. He'd told Jiyong he'd be home hours ago, but he'd gotten tied with the launch of his new club ("Another one?! Seungri-ah, you should use some of that money to buy you a better fashion sense!") and then treating his staff for a meal afterwards, and in the end, time had gotten away from him. And judging from the cigarette butts he'd thrown away, Jiyong had even tried to stay awake to wait up for him. The thought sent a rush of heat through his chest and his lips curled in a soft smile as he walked towards the bedroom door. Stripping his jacket along the away, he threw it over the couch, something he knew he'd get an earful for tomorrow, and gently placed his hands on the wooden surface.

The apartment rang with silence and he let out a quiet breath of air. Would Jiyong be angry he'd gotten back so late? After all, they'd both been incredibly busy with their individual schedules the past month, so much that he could count the times they'd spent together and alone on one hand. Tonight had been about relaxing and unwinding together, with Seungri's club finally off the ground and Jiyong taking a couple days off after having fleshed out the concept for their album. There was no time to dwell however, and so he cleared the thoughts from his head and gently turned the handle to the door.

Hushed breathing greeted him in the dark. Ah, so Jiyong really was fast asleep. Shuffling quietly inside, he tried to make as little noise as possible as he stripped off his shirt. A gap in the curtains let a sliver of pale moonlight through and he used that to navigate his way to his (their) drawer where they stashed their sweatpants. A muted hiss as he slipped the pants down his legs, but not enough as Jiyong shifted in his sleep, turning his face towards the moonlight sifting through the glass.

They had been together so long that some days he forgot how they started, in their run-down apartment with the rats but that was kept warm from the pure stubbornness of the five boys that lived there; who molded it into their home with sheer will. Even then the first night Jiyong had crawled into his bed, it had taken his breath away. And when he would crawl in again and again, it only served to expand the warmth in Seungri's chest - that yes, this was what home felt like.

Now, all those year later, drinking in Jiyong's tired face, mouth pursed and hands clenched under his chin, this is still what home felt like.

Softly, he pulled the heavy covers back from the bed, smiling as he realized the other had wrapped himself in much like a burrito. Getting in, he shuffled his way over, slotting himself against the smaller man's back and squeezing his arm through the sheets to gently wrap around Jiyong's middle.

He took a second to just breathe the other in, snuggling in closer to fit his face in the other's neck. The was the faint smell of nicotine of course, but it was mostly overwhelmed by clean scent of sleep warmed skin and the natural musk Jiyong just carried. His nose twitched. Ah, there was a hint of perfume there too - something woodsy, probably Chanel if the personal shrine to the brand in their walk-in was anything to go by. He snorted, snuggling close, trying to fit his whole body as close to the older as possible. As much as time went by, it seemed like nothing really changed.

"Finally home?"

His voice was raspy from sleep, but it was his voice nonetheless, and after going without hearing it for the past two days, a slight shiver ran through Seungri at the sound.

"Mhm…," he whispered against his neck, blowing softly against the baby hair. "Celebrations ran a little late. Sorry hyung."

He felt the faint chuckle vibrate through his body, pressed as close as they were. "It's ok, I figured my Gatsby was off conquering the world as usual."

Seungri laughed at the faint teasing, his hand trailing over Jiyong's body like a whisper, unconsciously trying to find the other's. "Ah hyung, I'm satisfied with jus' Gangnam for now."

Their fingers met and automatically threaded, coming to rest on the older's stomach. "I see...," he sighed, shifting back even more into his maknae's warmth. "Are Japan, America, Thailand, Philippines just neighbourhoods in Gangnam now?"

Seungri just laughed again, placing a soft kiss at the nape of the other's neck. He let his lips rest there as Jiyong sighed, squeezing his hand to return the affection. "It doesn't look good on my maknae to humble-brag," he continued and the younger could hear the smile in his voice, soft as it was. "You're my maknae, you're supposed to conquer the world so I can live my old life in luxury."

"Oh yes, and open up a luxury pet groomers."

"Outfit everyone in the latest Chanel. All on your card of course."

"Ah, of course. You'll be a source of jealousy at all the afternoon lunches."

"Mhm, those socialites better watch out, Kwon Jiyong will the queen to rule them all."

"You'll be the best dressed too."

"Always. By a mile."

"And you'll have a husband who loves you," Seungri sighed into his lover's skin, pressing another soft kiss where he knew the other liked it best. "More than life itself."

He felt Jiyong go still for a second, and then he was swatting his arm with his free hand. "Yah! I am not the woman here."

And like most other nights, they settled down to sleep like that, completely engrossed in each other’s presence, both safe in the knowledge the tomorrow, and all the days after it would be exactly like this. Safe and warm and a place to call home in each other's arms.