No reason to keep it a surprise, the Queue only has 99 days of content left in it. After that, poof! This blog will be dead. Thank you to everyone who left replies and comments/tags in their reblogs. I’ll continue lurking to read them until the last day.
genre: canonverse, fluff
pairing: yoongi x jungkook (yoonkook)
rating: g / warnings: none (tiniest hint of jealousy) / length: 759 words
prompt: yoongi gets confetti in his hair. jungkook notices.
They’re standing on the award stage, Yoongi is pressed up near Jaebum, trying to peek over Taehyung’s large shoulder to watch the MCs talk. The MCs are thanking the audience for watching the show, bowing deeply and finishing off with a flourish, queueing in music from the speakers above. Confetti sprinkles down from the rig above, tiny canons lining the bow of the stage erupt in metallic streamers, the audience begins to cheer.
Jaebum catches Yoongi’s eye, smiling. “Holding up alright?”
“Mmh,” Yoongi peels a piece of confetti paper off his tongue. “Yeah. Holding up,” he smiles, flicking away the paper, “when I’m not choking on paper.” He laughs awkwardly.
Jaebum chuckles, casting his gaze up at the colorful rain. “This stuff is always so over the top.”
“Probably,” Yoongi agrees. “But when isn’t it?”
Jaebum looks back at him. “Good point.” His eyes drift over Yoongi’s shoulder, suddenly looking alarmed. “I’ll see you around, Yoongi.” He sends Yoongi a tight smile and scoots closer to his members, shuffling around Jinyoung and Mark.
Yoongi blinks, confused, then twists around to look over where Jaebum was looking. He can’t see anything except Jungkook, sidling towards him, looking bored.
“Hi hyung,” Jungkook says, picking at his cuff.
“Hey,” Yoongi purses his lips. “Did you see anything just now? I think Jaebum saw something. But I missed it.”
Jungkook blinks. “Nope, didn’t see a thing.”
“Hm.” Yoongi shrugs and turns back to face forward, watching as Mingyu and the other guy who he recalls to be named Dokyeom roughhouse around on the other side of the stage, dancing spastically to the music.
What he doesn’t see is the way Jungkook’s eyes gaze at his head, how they survey his gentle, dark locks, skate over his delicate features, and stick on the brightly colored confetti, collecting like sprinkles or splatters of paint against the dark canvas of Yoongi’s hair.
Yoongi’s chuckling at Hoseok now, who has broken out into a sumo-squat style miniature Tyrannosaurus rex dance, clawing the air and pretending to shuffle back and forth on his tiptoes. Jungkook watches Yoongi’s eyes, how they crinkle and squint, curved like triangles, sleepy and soft.
“When do you think we can leave?” Yoongi breaks Jungkook out of his trance with a huff of annoyance.
“Soon enough,” Jungkook replies, lifting a hand. “You’ve got–” he points to Yoongi’s hair.
“Oh.” Yoongi blushes, swiping at his head, hunching down and away from Jungkook’s raised hand. Interesting.
“Can I–”
“No! I got it!” Yoongi grimaces, picking away greens and purples.
“You’re missing–”
“I got it–”
Jungkook catches Yoongi’s frantic hand. “Let me.”
“Oh–kay.” Yoongi stills, watching Jungkook’s tongue trace the corner of his lip as he concentrates on pulling away the stray reds and yellows that were trapped in his fluffy strands of hair. It feels strangely intimate, letting Jungkook comb through his hair on stage, under public scrutiny. It’s also weird how much Jungkook has grown, to be able to see across the top of Yoongi’s head without issue, where before he needed to be on tiptoes to meet Yoongi’s gaze evenly. When had time caught up with him, shot past him?
The rest of the group begins to move, filing off stage towards the left, bowing as they go.
“All done.” Jungkook side-steps away, flashing Yoongi a brilliant but cheeky smile.
Yoongi raises his eyebrows, surprised, then spins around to bow to the audience and follows quickly after Taehyung. Jungkook scrambles to catch up. He’s willing to wait; his faith in Yoongi is unwavering, and he can see the way Yoongi looks at him – when he thinks Jungkook isn’t looking – appraising, but also tentative and delicate, beyond pure fondness, spilling into a lighter feeling like love.
-
[postscript.]
Jinyoung circles Jaebum’s wrist as they walk off stage. “What’s got you looking so distracted?”
Jaebum pauses when they’re in the backstage corridor, leading to their green room. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Jinyoung raises an eyebrow.
“Really, it’s nothing.” Jaebum smiles and shakes Jinyoung’s hand away. “C’mon let’s go.” What he doesn’t tell Jinyoung, is the way Jungkook had sent him a look so intimidating, wide-eyed and fierce, jaw clenching and neck flexing, behind Yoongi’s back that he had backed away, tail between his legs. He hadn’t meant to infringe on anything, he wasn’t that kind of guy. But, he especially hadn’t ever considered it was those two of them all. Alas, such was the way of the world, he wasn’t about to get in the way of the young idol and the source of his deepest affections.
