"You're not alone here," Seokjin sing-songs quietly from where he's seated next to Jungkook. When Jungkook's turns to look at him, Seokjin's eyes are on his phone, propped up against Yoongi's head. Yoongi is asleep, curled up between the armrest and Seokjin, head in Seokjin's lap, knees against his chest. For a self-proclaimed old man, he's surprisingly flexible. He's looking impossibly tiny like that, and Jungkook feels nothing pure fondness for his hyung with the dark bags under his eyes.
"As if you're the one to talk," Jungkook grumbles, gesticulating vaguely between Seokjin and Yoongi with his right hand. Seokjin's mouth curls into a soft smile, eyes flickering to look at Yoongi's sleeping face before he turns his attention back to his phone where he's watching a show Jungkook vaguely remembers as The Alienist. There's no sound coming from Seokjin's phone, but it has subtitles so Jungkook guesses maybe Seokjin has seen this exact episode before.
Jungkook's accusation of Seokjin and Yoongi is ridiculous, he knows. On the other side of the room, in another sofa, Hoseok, Namjoon and Taehyung are huddled up in a pile that looks uncomfortable as fuck; Jungkook can't really tell whose limbs belong
"We're not doing anything," Seokjin murmurs, more to his screen than to Jungkook, he feels.
"We-I'm not either!" Jungkook protests, crossing his arms over his chest, biting the inside of his cheek.
"You're looking at Jiminie like you want to eat him," Seokjin says, way too loud in the crowded room. Jungkook turns his head feverishly, cheeks heating up as he begs, pleads, prays that no one heard Seokjin's words. He calms down some after he sees that no one is looking their way. Not even Jimin, who's standing posed against a white wall on the other side of the room. Jungkook turns to Seokjin with a frown on his face.
"What?" Seokjin says innocently, a shit-eating grin on his face that doesn't fit with the angelic look on his face.
"What if someone heard," Jungkook stresses. Seokjin laughs.
"They don't have to hear me to figure it out, baby," Seokjin says fondly, pausing the Alienist, to turn left towards Jungkook, petting his hot cheek with his long, gentle fingers. "You're so incredibly easy to read, it could as well be painted on your forehead."
In Seokjin's lap, Yoongi groans petulantly, turns his body so his knees are pressed against the back cushions of the sofa, his face facing towards Seokjin's abdomen. Yoongi's movements make Seokjin's phone slide off of his thigh and down onto the sofa cushion under him. Seokjin doesn't move. Cutely, Yoongi scrunches his nose, batting his eyes open delicately, squinting at his surroundings. Yoongi, like Seokjin has shed his denim jacket, abandoning it over the back of a chair somewhere. It's way too hot in the room to be wearing both jacket and pants, Jungkook thinks as he pulls absently on his own jeans.
"Why are you two so fucking noisy," Yoongi complains, voice heavy with sleep. To this, Seokjin chuckles, combs through Yoongi's soft-looking black hair with his hand. Jungkook wonders if he would have purred like a kitten if it had been only Seokjin and Yoongi. He looks incredibly feline as he nuzzles his face against the palm of Seokjin's hand; lets Seokjin trace his closed eyelids, the slope of his wide nose, the shape of his lips.
Next up is wolfodder ^v^