Namjoon sat as his desk. He had gotten so much work done today. The rhythm flowed from his fingertips and lyrics came easy like a steady wind. Time had passed so quickly that he had already worked most of his day away, not that he noticed that in the dark room. He picked up his phone to check the time; it was already 10p.m. That wasn’t very late but Namjoon had been at work since 6 o’clock this morning. A sudden growling from his stomach reminded him that he had forgotten to eat all day. Reluctant to end the flow of musical genius that began this morning, Namjoon eventually came to the conclusion that it was time to head home. Hunger was beginning to distract him. He still had a pretty successful day, after all. It wouldn’t be too much of a loss if he ended it now.

With all his work from the day saved and lyrics safely tucked away in his bag, Namjoon shut down his computer and went to check on Yoongi. He was sure that Yoongi would still be busy and no where near ready to call it a night; that didn’t stop him from asking the workaholic if he wanted to walk home with him anyway. Namjoon walked over to Yoongi, who still had his headphones on; he tapped him on the shoulder and waited for him to take notice and remove them. Yoongi turned around and pulled his headphones down around his neck, “what?”

“I’m going home; do you want to come with me?”

“No. I still have some things to finish up here. I’ll go home later,” Yoongi turned back in his chair and continued right where he left off. Namjoon sighed, he knew that would happen.

“Suit yourself,” he shrugged and went to the door, “good night hyung. Don’t be too late.”

Yoongi didn’t hear him. Namjoon knew he wouldn’t – he rarely did – but it had become a habit whenever Namjoon left work before Yoongi to tell him good night and ask him not to stay too late. Of course, it had also become a habit for him to be ignored and for Yoongi to work well into the night. He didn’t know why he did it anymore but it felt strange to leave without a word so he didn’t.

The walk home was cold, as expected from a December night. That didn’t bother Namjoon; he was much more concerned with the growling of his stomach. How Yoongi could go even longer without food was beyond him. He supposed that every body had its priorities and food must have been lower among Yoongi’s list. Namjoon was distracted the whole way home.

He unlocked the front door and dragged himself inside. Now that he was home, exhaustion was finally setting in. A gentle voice called from the living room, “Namjoon-ah, Yoongi-ah, is that you?”

“Just me,” Namjoon said, taking off his shoes and walking inside. Seokjin got up to great him.

“Welcome home, where’s Yoongi?”

“Thanks,” Namjoon replied, taking off his coat, “he wanted to keep working for a while.”

“I should have guessed,” Seokjin chuckled.

“So what are you still doing up?”

“Nothing,” he blurted out, “I mean, there’s no reason.”

“I see,” Namjoon nodded. His stomach growled again and he placed a hand over it. Seokjin laughed at first but quickly furrowed his brows.

“You’ve been working all day, haven’t you?” Namjoon nodded. Seokjin shook his head, “and you haven’t eaten, have you?”

“Not since this morning. I’m so hungry,” Namjoon complained, “will you cook for me, hyung?”

“It’s getting late, why should I?”

“Please? You never made me seaweed soup for my birthday!”

“Are you still on that?” Seokjin asked, astonished that Namjoon still hadn’t let that go. It had been a few months and he would still bring that up. Seokjin sighed. “Fine, I’ll cook for you, but after this you aren’t allowed to bring up that soup thing ever again.”

“Deal,” Namjoon smiled.

Seokjin went into the kitchen to see what he could make for Namjoon that was quick; he didn’t want to hear him complaining while he was cooking. Meanwhile, Namjoon dropped his bag on his bed and joined Seokjin in the kitchen. After a quick skim through the fridge, Seokjin had an idea, “Kimchee fried rice good with you?”

“Anything’s fine,” Namjoon laid down on the floor. He held his stomach and rolled over, “I’m dying.”

“That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“No, it’s the perfect amount of drama.”

Seokjin could only shake his head. He grabbed all the ingredients and pulled a pan from the cupboards. As he chopped the kimchee, the smell began to reach Namjoon. It smelt even better after it was added to the pan. Seokjin was grateful that everyone else had eaten and gone to bed; if they smelled this, he knew he would have to cook a lot more of it.

Namjoon stood up and walked over to Seokjin. He always looked so handsome when he was cooking. Strong arms wrapped firmly around Seokjin’s waist. It shocked him at first but he settled into it. There was something comforting about being held in those arms. Namjoon’s chin rested on Seokjin’s broad shoulders. His eyes locked on his hyung lovingly. He was so pretty.

“It smells good Seokjin hyung” Namjoon hummed. Seokjin felt his face heat up as that deep voice rang in his ears. He wished Namjoon didn’t have such a y voice.

“It’s almost done, please sit down and be patient,” Seokjin said in an attempt to cover up his slowly reddening face. Maybe without Namjoon so close to him, he could calm his now rushing heartbeat.

“I’m comfortable,” he insisted.

Seokjin mentally sighed, it was no use. He finished cooking the fried rice and turned the stove off, “it’s done. Just let me get you a bowl and you can eat.”

“Can’t I start with dessert?” Namjoon’s lips brushed against Seokjin’s neck. He could feel his face burn. It wasn’t as if this was the first time something like this had happened but it always made his heart pound. Seokjin couldn’t explain what made him like Namjoon so much; maybe it was his y voice, or his cute smile, or how nice he was, or the way he did things purely out of habit even when he knew they were pointless most of the time – like when he said good night to Yoongi, or when he thought about criticism and insults he received – or maybe it was how he made him feel something that he could only explain as good because it was so much better than that but he didn’t  have the words for it.

“What are you doing?” Seokjin managed.

“Prioritizing,” Namjoon whispered – his hot breath against Seokjin’s skin.

“What if someone comes in?”

“What if they don’t?”

“Namjoon-ah, please just eat your dinner. Otherwise I’ve cooked for nothing.”

“You’re no fun,” Namjoon whined, “but alright.”

“Good,” Seokjin sighed in relief.

“But you owe me,” Namjoon kissed Seokjin’s cheek and released the grip on his waist. He grabbed a bowl and dumped the contents of the pan into it. Seokjin took the pan to the sink and washed it while Namjoon ate. He knew Namjoon was serious when he said he owed him but he really hoped this wouldn’t be like the seaweed soup incident.