Chapter Text
It’s difficult to say when Yoongi finally shakes himself out of the stupor that is post-nut clarity. He hasn’t been able to indulge himself like this, and the call, the connection, or whatever the fuck happened there was simply so intense that it made him dizzy. It takes him a few minutes to truly recover, and as he blinks his eyes blearily, Yoongi pushes himself off of the sofa to clean up.
His legs feel like jelly, and he feels like collapsing at any moment - but that’s the price to pay for getting a mind-blowing orgasm after so long. He doesn’t want to get up, but Yoongi thinks of some poor janitor having to step into his studio tomorrow, scrunching their nose at the smell of semen and Yoongi has far too much dignity for that.
Yoongi cleans up quickly enough, shoving the crumpled-up tissues at the far end of the bin, underneath the protein bar covers, and the like. He opens his windows and airs the room, swooping air out the window as a desperate attempt for the room to smell less of cum and more of fresh air. He gets the Febreze and starts spraying, a bit heavy-handed as the scent soon catches up to him. Yoongi decides against overdoing it before his studio smells like he’s trying to hide something.
While there’s a pleasant buzz under his skin that he hasn’t felt in a while ever since the deadline’s closer and closer, Yoongi feels light-headed from everything and exhaustion soon catches up to him. It’s been a long day and an even longer night.
Yoongi collapses back onto the sofa. He can’t be assed to drive home, considering the sofa is comfortable enough and his eyes are really, really heavy…
The week goes by like a breeze.
Yoongi had less work than the previous week, with the celebratory dinner going as well as possible. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits, and the burden of creation was lifted from their shoulders. There was no doubt that the album would chart well, they all worked hard on it.
The sheer amount of years that the album had taken from Yoongi’s life should be evident enough.
The rest of the week had been almost uneventful. Yoongi worked on his passion projects, sneaking in treats for the kids, and making sure that they weren’t starving as idols prone to do near comeback. He took it easy, and it was nice not to be wrung dry on a deadline sometimes.
When Hoseok barges in on Friday night, courtesy of the weekly movie night they skipped last week, Yoongi prepares himself for the theatrics, the drama, and the gossip that Hoseok will inevitably make him suffer through. But instead of the usual, Yoongi finds himself having a staring contest with Hoseok.
“Hmm…” Hoseok eyes him suspiciously for the umpteenth time that night, and Yoongi has no idea what he’s done that granted this reaction. There’s something so annoyingly mischievous in the younger’s eyes that makes Yoongi wonder if he ever should have let Hoseok into his house in the first place.
“Hm,” Hoseok does that thing again.
“Alright, out with it. What’s up?” Yoongi says, slightly irritated. He feels like he’s being interrogated. It’s entirely unusual, and Yoongi wants to know why he’s being put on a pedestal.
Hoseok smiles, “I don’t know, you tell me.”
“You’re the one acting strange.” Yoongi retorts.
“No, you’re the one making me act strange. I’m just minding my business and now you’re doing—“ Hoseok exhales dramatically, “—this.”
“Breathing..?”
“No, you’ve been breathing for quite a while now, even though you don’t look it when you’re napping. It's just that,” Hoseok eyes narrow, “you seem chipper.”
“Are you saying that I've never been happy in my life?”
“Yes!” Hoseok all but shouts, “Well, I've seen you happy before, but it never lasts this long.” before Yoongi can interrupt that, no, he is generally happy it's just his resting bitch face that's cucking him, Hoseok continues, “You look less stressed which is reasonable since we just finish that new album for the kids. But it's different - you look more content - like you got your dick wet, which is impossible considering I live downstairs and work in the same building and didn’t hear anything. Like, if the lay was that bad, you wouldn’t have been giggling like an idiot for the past week.” Hoseok concludes, chest puffing.
Yoongi shoots a smile his way.
“Sure,” he comments airily, hints at nothing on the observation, and turns on the TV. He selects the first movie Netflix recommended, asking for no input from Hoseok, who is staring a hole into his side as if using his eyes to carve a piece of Yoongi would answer his question.
“Hmm…” Hoseok is back at that stage again, humming and eyeing Yoongi like he’s a piece of meat that expired two days ago but still looks edible enough for Hoseok to contemplate whether he should cook with it.
They watch the movie in silence.