"Hello, America!" Himchan calls the minute he’s off the plane, and the clear baby-blue sky of New York greet him back with just as much enthusiasm. Youngjae rolls his eyes as he taps away on his laptop, sitting comfortably on a bench just outside the gate and trying to fight the odd feeling that he should be sleeping right now since his biological clock is currently set to 1AM Korean time; he hates jet lag, it ruins the best of trips.

Someone sits down heavily next to him and Youngjae doesn’t need to look to know it’s Daehyun- the boy has a tendency to follow him around like a lovestruck puppy, and although Youngjae appreciates the dedication his boyfriend shows approximately all the time, he would still like to have some personal space.

(especially now, when he’s tired and ready-to-rip-someone’s-spleen-out cranky.)

Daehyun’s arm snakes itself around his boyfriend’s shoulders with practiced ease as he smiles at Junhong’s camera; Youngjae ignores him completely and keeps on typing an e-mail to his mother, assuring her that he’s fine and that he slept and that the plane didn’t crash into the ocean in a flaming ball of fire (his mom tends to worry about everything and anyone all the time though, so he forgives her for the eight e-mails he’s received while on the flight).

"She does know that planes don’t have wifi, right?" Daehyun asks over his shoulder when Junhong turns to gleefully harass the long-suffering Jongup, and Youngjae taps the ENTER key decisively, sending the e-mail and clicking his laptop shut. "There’s no reason for her to know," comes his dry reply. "She never even left Korea."

The older laughs and nuzzles his nose against Youngjae’s cheek, looking at him with his eyes almost overflowing with obvious fondness; Youngjae ignores the flush that creeps its way up his neck and takes a quick look around to make sure that no one’s watching- Himchan, after his short burst of excitement over reaching New York, fell asleep with his back propped against a nearby poll, and Yongguk sits hunched over a book next to Jongup, who’s currently getting an in-depth coverage of his black roots by Junhong’s camera.

"What’s up with that," Youngjae asks in confusion, pointing at the youngest duo and their shenanigans. "They’re both obsessed with filming everyone’s roots."

Daehyun shrugs, peeking over his boyfriend’s shoulder for just a second before fixing his eyes back on Youngjae. “I think it’s an inside joke, so I’d rather not ask,” he reports with slight terror in his voice, and Youngjae finally turns to face the older with a sigh, his fingers playing with Daehyun’s and his head coming to rest on the older’s shoulder; it’s comfortable and familiar and they’ve done it so many times before and it just feels natural to be this close to each other all the time, like an instinct or a reflex- and the truth is, you could separate them and put Daehyun in Singapore and Youngjae in Denmark, and they’ll still find their way to their other half.

It’s quiet for a few minutes as they wait for their manager to fix everything for them and Daehyun leans his head on Youngjae’s, smiling gently. “You’re going to sleep the minute we get to the hotel, aren’t you,” he hums, more of a statement than a question; Youngjae doesn’t answer, and when Daehyun lifts his head to check on him the younger’s already fast asleep on his shoulder, his lips slightly parted and his hand holding Daehyun in a lax grip.

And Daehyun smiles and kisses the top of his head; he’ll wake him up when it’s safe to move again.

———

The streets are incredibly loud and packed for a Tuesday afternoon and Daehyun has to clutch Youngjae’s hand in the thick crowd, pulling him close and eyeing the people around them nervously. “Maybe going out to explore Soho wasn’t such a good idea,” he states hesitantly, curling in on himself to occupy as little room as possible. Daehyun’s scared of a lot of things; he’s scared of heights and moths and clowns and dying, but most of all he’s scared of getting lost. His grip on Youngjae’s hand is smashing and the younger’s afraid that the fingers around his wrist are starting to cut the blood circulation to his hand, so he sighs and pulls the older out of the crowd, sitting him on a bench next to a shoe store.

"Look, we came here to have fun, didn’t we?" He asks Daehyun firmly, looking into his eyes with an expectant look. Daehyun nods.

"Yeah."

"Okay! So let’s go look at shoes and have ice cream and, I don’t know, do what American boys do in their free time," Youngjae finishes as he pulls the older to his feet with an air of finality in his movements, grabbing Daehyun’s hand and leading him into the shoe store.

“Does this mean we have to speak English now?”

The next hour and a half goes by in a blur of colors, sights and scents Youngjae has never experienced; halfway through their second shoe store invasion Jongup and Junhong join them and Daehyun whips out his video camera, shooting a short clip for B.A.P Attack with a wide smile on his face, the anxiety from before disappearing completely. They walk hand in hand through Soho, looking and exploring and enjoying their time in general; at some point Youngjae sneaks a peck to Daehyun’s lips and the older blushes so hard, it looks like his head is about to fall off. Youngjae wishes he’d brought his camera along with him, just to capture the look of utter puppy-love Daehyun gives him.

Then again, he sees that look every day, so what’s the point in doing that, really?

They find a small park with a nice grassy lawn and a pretty fountain and decide to rest there before going back to the hotel, having ditched on Jongup and Junhong after what felt like the billionth clothing store. The sky bleed orange and pastel pink and a thousand shades of purple as they sit on the grass with a tired groan; it’s nice and quiet and birds fly overhead when Daehyun laces his fingers with Youngjae, giving him a soft smile.

"Do American boys kiss?" He asks, and Youngjae laughs and pulls him in for a kiss that has their hearts throbbing and their heads spinning and their lips burning for more and when they finally part their lungs drink in gallons of bleeding pastel sky and green grass and pure freedom.

———

"My mom wants to know how you’re doing," Youngjae exclaims after waking Daehyun up with a pillow to the face at 6AM, and the older splutters and pulls his boyfriend down to bed with him, wrapping an arm around his torso and letting out something that sounds remarkably like "ing Yoo Youngjae."

Youngjae laughs and tries to wriggle out of the older’s hold, pushing and hitting and thrashing about helplessly; in the end Daehyun opens his eyes grumpily, giving Youngjae the stinkiest stink eye the world has ever seen. “I find it disturbing that your mother finds interest in me specifically,” he reports in his sleep-worn voice, and Youngjae has to fight down the will to pin Daehyun down and make him writhe under him when he answers.

"She likes you," he suggests weakly. "Plus, you’re my "best friend", so you’re pretty much an angel in her books," he adds, raising his hands to signal air quotes when saying "best friend". Daehyun laughs.

"Are you that antisocial," he snorts and Youngjae decides to it, rolling until he’s on top of the older, pinning him down effectively and kissing his way down his neck, lips and tongue and teeth on heated skin.

A fresh morning rises on New York, and they welcome it like the good old American boys they are.