XXVI

“Oopss, game over.”

“Jimin-ah.”

“Hmm?”

“Do you, perhaps, wanna visit this newly open amusement park on the East?”

“Why is there an amusement park opening at second quarter of the year?”

“Aish. Is that really important?”

“For business talks, I guess yes, Taehyung-ah, since it’s not peak season and amusement parks are after for customers?”

“But we’re not talking about business! We’re talking about the 50% off on the rides all you can ticket for the first week.”

Namjoon silently watches from where he’s currently sprawled on the worn, small sofa in the middle of the small living room, long legs dangling on one side of the couch, his socked toe dangerously grazing the vase atop the center table the boys moved 30 minutes ago before their game starts. His head resting at an awkward angle on the other end of the arm rest; thick eyebrows raising in amusement as the two youngsters sitting in front of the flat-screen television, big and bold Game Over written in red blaring on the screen, as Jimin paused for a few moments, lips unconsciously pouting as he thinks about the proposed idea by his very own best friend who’s barely containing his excitement with closed fists, anticipation very much obvious as he practically vibrates from where he’s sitting beside the smaller boy.

“We can save so much at that and buy more foods then.” Taehyung squeals at Jimin’s words, pumping his fists in the air, almost punching Jimin on the face who scoffs in fake annoyance before he’s also giggling, doing their victory dance while still sitting on the floor.

They’re adorable, Namjoon couldn’t deny that.

“We’re gonna try all the rides there! And buy so many foods!”

“I’d love that!” Jimin screams, tackling Taehyung until the purple-head boy was flat on his back and his own head resting on the boy’s chest, laughing, before he stops and his eyes widens.

Taehyung must’ve noticed this, asking a curious, “What is it?”

Jimin stares at him. “When are we gonna go anyway? I need to tell Yoongi hyung if he has plan.”

“Friday Night.” Taehyung answers immediately. Namjoon narrows his eyes as a questionable pink dusted the boy’s cheeks, eyes looking somewhere past Jimin’s shoulder… ahh, the wall, he must be nervous of something, Namjoon thought. “I… I already talked this to H-Hoseokie hyung.”

“What?!”

“What?!”

Jimin scrambles off his best friend until he’s sitting on the boy’s stomach. Taehyung groans at the sudden weight, smacking Jimin’s thigh who promptly ignores his silent request. He huffs.

“Are you supposed to go on a date with Hoseok hyung?” Jimin asked, eyes narrowing in small, accusatory slits. Taehyung’s face was a complete crimson by the end of the question. “Are you trying use me as an excuse for this date, hmm, Kim Taehyung.” Before the corner of Jimin’s lips lift into a lopsided smile, voice teasing.

Namjoon huffs from where he’s still lying letting his arms fall above his head while trying to stretch his long limbs. He carefully sat on the sofa, standing up and stretching his whole form once again. He’s totally enjoying the younger boys’ antics, but his stomach had been protesting nonstop since he’d stepped inside their apartment. And it’s just time to force himself to move and check on his boyfriend busy cooking in the kitchen.

(“I need to check if the boys are eating actual meals rather than takeouts. And they can’t live off ramen forever, Namjoon. They’re growing boys and their body needed as much nutrients.”

“Hmm. But I’m hungry. I’m practically dead from the three major exams today.”

“That’s why I packed these ingredients. I’m going to cook.”

“We’re visiting because you missed them and you’re a mom, Jinnie-ah.”

“I don’t plan being a mom without husband, Joon-ah. Though you’re right at the first part, I missed the boys. It’s been awhile.”

“Husband? What do you take me for?”

“Oh, shut up.”)

Namjoon stops once he reached the threshold of the kitchen, watching the man in pink apron stir the soup with fond eyes, crossing his arms and leaning his body sideways against the doorframe. Seeing Seokjin like this, in his element, humming under his breath as he chop the vegetables carefully, nodding his head after tasting the dish. It feels too domestic and the sight alone brought enough warm in Namjoon’s body, blooming in his chest and spreading up to down his toes. He thinks, he could definitely get used to this.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he calls, dimples already showing as Seokjin looks over his shoulder, smiling at him.

“Hey, handsome. You hungry, there?” he asks, looking back in front of him and turning one of the stoves off. He moves to get a plate, placing the sausages and meat.

“Can’t wait to eat.”

“Well…” Seokjin chuckles and Namjoon smiles wider, finally pulling himself off the doorframe and walking towards his boyfriend. “How’s the boys though?”

And as if on cue, there’s a loud thump on the floor coming from the living room, a series of incoherent yelling about the game they playing following with occasional sounds of smacks.

They stood there for a few seconds, just looking at each other before Namjoon finally shrugs, Seokjin shaking his head as he continue preparing their meals. Namjoon doesn’t miss the hint of smile tugging at the corner of his lips, though.

“Boys!” Seokjin calls, “Please prepare the table for me.”

“Yes, mom!” was the answer he got from the two youngsters.

Namjoon laughs.

Seokjin rolls his eyes.

“I told you.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Hyung~”

Yoongi rolls his eyes at the sound of Jimin’s voice coming from behind him. He knows that tone really well. He knows, everyone knows, that Jimin is naturally sweet, with also a sweet-honey voice melting from the insides, but this tone is different. He needs something. And he needs to get whatever that ‘something’ or else…

He tugs his blanket a little tighter around his body, cocoon like a newborn in warm black duvet in time to hear his bedroom door closing followed by soft scruff of slippers against the floor.

“What is it, Jimin?” he asks, voice rough from (interrupted) sleep – Jimin is a brave soul, okay – feeling the mattress behind him dips from the new weight. There’s shuffle, his blanket being tugged away from him before he felt warm body pressing against his back, almost flinching at the cold nose that nuzzles his nape, arms wrapping around his waist and leg shoving in between his, ankles tangling to another pair.

He loves it. So much.

.

He sighs contentedly, feeling Jimin’s fingers sneaked under the hem of his t-shirt, caressing his stomach. It tickles but he doesn’t dare say anything about it. He’s enjoying what’s happening so much to actually care and pry those short fingers away from his skin. He loves it when Jimin is particularly like this