Chapter Text
Jungkook reached out a groggy hand to fumble for his cellphone, groaning into his pillow at the shrill beeping of his alarm. His eyes felt crusty when he blinked them open, a headache settled firmly right behind them, and his tongue was dry cotton. Pretty much the usual these days, and he had to drag himself to work anyway, so he gingerly rolled himself to sitting, bracing for the inevitable little dizzy spell, and when he felt like he could muster the energy to get a little momentum, he hauled himself out of bed and into the bathroom across the hall from his closet-sized bedroom.
The bathroom wasn’t even closet-sized. Jungkook managed to bang his elbow right against the corner of the square shower as he reached up to pull open the medicine cabinet above the sink. He hissed and swore; he was going to have a permanent bruise there at this rate. And if he pouted about it a little in the privacy of his own bathroom, who would know but him? By muscle memory more than conscious thought, he popped his meds into his mouth and swallowed dry, hoping against hope that it might take the edge off sooner rather than later. In the mirror, his face was pale.
He’d been feeling worse lately. More tired, brain full of fog and the kind of constant anxiety he found it hard to shake. He barely had an appetite, though that was probably for the best, considering his food budget (not much). All that he could probably deal with, but the headaches were wearing on him. Maybe he was just tired of being so damn tired all the time. There wasn’t much he could do about it, anyway. One trip to a doctor’s office and he was liable to get reported, and that was the last thing he wanted.
There was a sharp knock on the door that startled him out of his thoughts. “JK, are you done in there? I gotta take a piss,” Liam groused through the door.
It took longer than it should have for Jungkook to process the English, but who could blame him, really? Even after three years, he still didn’t like the way it fit in his mouth, all the wrong shapes so it felt like he was stumbling over his own tongue sometimes.
“Yeah, sorry,” he answered, but Liam just shook his head when the door opened and ran a hand through his shaggy blonde hair.
“Nah, it’s cool, man. Mornings, huh?”
“Mornings,” Jungkook agreed, but really it was just like this. A slog from the time he opened his eyes.
Ok, it wasn’t quite that bad—he was just being dramatic. There were, after all, the cats, who he was going to visit today after work, he reminded himself as a form of bribery to actually get moving. And maybe Taehyung would be working, too, and Jungkook would have someone to talk to. He thought they might be starting to be real friends, and that was something, wasn’t it? A break in the clouds that hung over his head the rest of his sorry life.
“Oh hey,” Liam said before he closed the door. “Reminder that it’s the 10th.”
Shit. Right. Every month like clockwork. Jungkook knew that, technically, he should have a standing appointment with a service Dom, too, but he didn’t, and he wouldn’t, and he certainly didn’t want to be around while some stuffy government type put Liam under. Frankly, even the idea of a Dom in his space made his skin crawl and his stomach twist and something in him ache in a way that felt too much like want to be comfortable.
He didn't need a Dom; he took his pills and he was doing just fine, thanks. And he sure as fuck didn't want a Dom. Been there, done that, got the hell out. Went to a whole other country, by point of fact, and wasn't planning on getting himself sent back, either.
He liked Seattle. Mostly.
It drizzled, grey and cold, on his way to work, and it was still drizzling when he got off. In between it may as well have been. Felt like that in his head, anyway, when he couldn't shake the chill from his damp walk or the headache he'd woken up with.
Jungkook couldn't complain too much, though. Stocking and hauling boxes at a Whole Foods in Capitol Hill was far from the worst job he could have. It was monotonous, dull, but at least he didn't have to think too hard to do the job well. He could throw in some earbuds and just let the shift wash over him. If his boss sometimes told him he'd done a good job today, kid in a way that made his belly warm, that was no one's business but his own.
By the time he made it to Neko Cat Cafe, though, the buzz of the praise had washed right off him in the rain. He'd maybe spent a little too much time outside of True Love, peering through the huge windows at the tattoo artists at work in the wide open space, daydreaming about an apprenticeship he'd never be able to afford and no one would give him even if he could. He was chilled down to the bone and trying to keep his teeth from chattering when Taehyung looked up at the tinkling of the door chime.
"Kook-ah!" Taehyung's boxy grin took over his face under the mop of his wavy dark hair, and Jungkook already felt a little of his dour mood lift from off his shoulders. "Oh no, you're soaked!"
Before Jungkook could lodge more than a half-hearted protest, Taehyung had disappeared into the backroom and returned with a huge fluffy towel, talking all the while. "You'll catch a cold like this," he lightly scolded in Korean as he flung the towel over Jungkook's head to scrub at his wet hair, the Daegu satoori just on the edges of his voice. It felt good—both the familiarity of the language, and the way Taehyung toweled him off, gentle but firm. The shop around them was, as it always was, clean and bathed in warm light, the wood tables and flooring honey-colored, and it, as it always did, made him feel warmer by extension.
Jungkook knew he shouldn't let himself sink into enjoying it too much, that it would be dangerous to indulge, but it did feel good. His headache even receded a little as Taehyung continued to fuss over him. "You've got to take care of yourself, you know. Elvira would miss you if you couldn't come visit. Me, too."
Jungkook definitely wasn't blushing. If he was, it wasn't because Taehyung was so handsome or kind or surprisingly funny and smart or anything. Which was irrelevant because Taehyung was a sub and had an Eros, and when he talked about them, his big eyes practically sparkled with how much he loved them. He wasn’t even afraid of his Doms, not even a little, and he had three of them. Jungkook couldn’t imagine.
"Oh! Soda Pop got adopted yesterday! Isn't that great news?" Taehyung beamed at him, wrapped the towel around his shoulders, and Jungkook blinked at him. Taehyung wasn't phased. "Let me get you some tea."
Once he had a cat in his lap—DJ Silly Goose, a large orange boy, had claimed him today—and a hot, fresh mug of tea in his hands, he felt warm for the first time all day. "Thank you, hyung," he said softly, and Taehyung beamed at him again.
"Um," Taehyung said and rocked on his feet. “I have a favor to ask—you can say no!”
Jungkook cleared his throat, hoping the little tickle wasn’t a sign of an impending cold. “What’s the favor?”
Taehyung scrunched up his face cutely and then smiled sheepishly. “Well, I have this project for my photography class,” he started.
That was another thing that had surprised Jungkook when he first started talking with Taehyung, just a few short months ago. Taehyung took classes. At the university . And not just obedience or etiquette training, either, but academic classes. From what Jungkook could gather, Taehyung wasn’t even pursuing a degree with any consistency, though he apparently was getting close to having enough credits to get one, anyway. He took drawing classes, painting classes, art history and design and, over the summer, a music class about the history of Jazz that he talked about excitedly whenever he got the chance. Jungkook could listen to him talk about his classes for hours, and he had on more than one occasion, a cup of tea in one hand and a cat under the other.
“Anyway, I need someone to model for me, and you’re so pretty, and you just fit the concept better than the hyungs, you know?”
Jungkook blinked hard at him again. “What?”
“Ah, sorry, I mean, would you let me take photos of you for my portfolio? This weekend maybe? At my place?”
“You think I’m pretty?”
“Jungkook. Are you kidding me? Have you looked in a mirror? You’re so pretty.”
“Oh,” Jungkook said, surprised but also flattered. He wouldn’t usually be; Doms told him all the time that he was such a pretty little thing , but this was Taehyung. It was different. There was no sense of entitlement in it, no sleazy pick up attempt, just Tae’s earnest kindness. He could feel his cheeks getting pink so he ducked his face behind his coffee mug to give himself a moment before he answered. “Yeah, alright, that’d be ok.”
Taehyung rocked up onto his toes and clapped his hands together, which made DJ Silly Goose grumble on Jungkook’s lap. Taehyung just laughed at the cat and gave him a scratch between his ears. His smile was boxy and warm. “Ah, Kook-ah, you’re the best. We’re going to have so much fun, I promise.”
Jungkook spent the rest of the evening listening to Taehyung sing along with songs on the radio, his low voice meandering and as sweet as the tea he kept topping up in Jungkook’s mug. He worked sometimes as he sang, getting the cats dinner or taking care of a customer who happened to wander in for a brief respite from the rain, and he stopped to talk to Jungkook, too, sometimes, which was just as good as listening to him sing. And Jungkook loved listening to Taehyung sing. He also loved the way he danced around the little coffee shop with his broom like it was a microphone, and the way he would offer a formal introduction when there was a new cat. The soft murmur of his voice when he talked to the plants, asking, “Do you need some water, gorgeous?” or, “Let’s get you a little more light today, hm?”
Closing time came too fast. It always did, when Jungkook came here. But this time, he was leaving with Taehyung’s phone number and an invitation, so his smile lasted him the whole walk back to his apartment.
He was used to feeling a little bit like shit a lot of the time, but he'd been feeling a lot like shit all the time recently. It was starting to grind him down. When we woke with a headache pounding against the back of his eyelids once again, he groaned into his pillow and considered, just this once, how bad it would be if he called off his morning shift and got a few more hours of sleep. And it was tempting, too, but his bills for the month were carefully budgeted based on the hours he worked, and there was no room for error or indulgence—not unless he wanted to give up one of his already scant meals.
Besides, he was going to Taehyung’s house after work, and that meant he’d need to reload his Orca card, which cut any leeway he might have had in his finances down to zero officially.
That in mind, it was a little easier to get out of bed. Because he was going to see Taehyung.
“Jesus, man, you ok?” Liam asked, when Jungkook plodded out of his room after the scent of cheap coffee.
“‘M fine,” Jungkook answered.
Liam looked him up and down suspiciously. “You don’t look fine. Look, I know shit is tight, but if you need a couple extra bucks so you can take a shift off and bring in a Dom—”
Jungkook narrowed his eyes at him. “No,” he said, too brusque probably, so he tacked on, “Thank you.”
“Suit yourself, man, but you look terrible.”
Jungkook choked down the angry bile that rose to the back of his throat so he didn’t say something more full of acid than he really meant. It wasn’t Liam’s fault that he was healthy and blonde and pink-cheeked, that he went down soft and nice for a Dom he didn’t even know once a month like it was no big deal at all. Liam didn’t understand how much trouble Jungkook could get in if he did make use of a government Dom; he hadn’t asked when Jungkook moved in with him, and for that, Jungkook was grateful. So he was going to keep his mouth shut. Liam was presumptuous, yes, but he wasn’t malicious.
Jungkook sighed. “Just not sleeping well. I’ll be alright.”
Liam looked doubtful. “If you say so. But the offer stands.”
The dizzy spell that had black dots swimming in his vision a few minutes later was easier to brush off when he had Liam’s unwanted attention as a motivator. He simply refused to prove Liam right.
It was harder to ignore how truly fucking awful he felt once he was at work hauling boxes. The fluorescent overhead lights made his eyes sting and water; the headache seemed to pulse with his heartbeat. He thought he might have a fever, which was annoying. His muscles ached, too, and he felt shaky and unsteady on his feet. But the shift was only a few hours; he could make it, and he would be fine. He’d take a nap on the bus, and by the time he got to Taehyung’s house, he’d feel right as rain.
When he clocked out, his boss looked him over with furrowed brows. “You going to be able to get home, alright?” he asked, and Jungkook was startled by the question. Not that his boss was a bad guy, but people didn’t usually bother sparing an extra thought for Jungkook’s well-being.
“I really look that bad?” he tried to joke, but his boss frowned.
To Jungkook’s credit, he did get a little shut eye on the bus, and he was still rubbing the last of the sleep out of his eyes when he stepped off the bus at the ferry terminal and turned to walk the half a block to the house. The neighborhood was tree-lined and clean, houses with neat lawns on either side, expensive cars parked in all the driveways. The houses themselves were relatively modest, considering the area—family homes, Eros homes, and not the gaudy McMansions or sleek condos farther north in West Seattle.
He checked the address in his text from Taehyung three times before he finally walked up to knock on the door. The house was nice from the outside: modern, clean lines, black and white with accents in natural wood grain. But the front door was bright orange, cheerful and welcoming, and Jungkook’s belly fluttered with nerves.
There were voices behind the door, several of them overlapping, and the sound of footsteps, before it swung open. Jungkook didn’t know exactly what he had been expecting—Taehyung’s bright grin, probably—but it certainly wasn’t the actual giant that appeared in front of him. The man was taller than him, tall enough that he was staring right at his chest, Jungkook realized with a start, but when his eyes darted away, they landed on the man’s thighs and that wasn’t much better. The fabric of his shorts pulled tight against muscle, and Jungkook felt his mouth go a little dry.
“You must be Taehyungie’s friend?” the man said, and he had a bemused smile on his face when Jungkook finally looked up to meet his eyes. His eyes were pretty, too, well-shaped, dark, and curious.
“Oh,” Jungkook said, because he was completely embarrassing, and then he stammered, just to really make sure he embarrassed himself thoroughly, “You’re—you—thighs.”
The man’s smile turned into a grin, which really wasn’t helping Jungkook’s dilemma. Jungkook had figured that Taehyung’s partners would have to be gorgeous, because Taehyung himself was so handsome, but he wasn’t expecting, well—
“Kim Namjoon,” the man said. “It’s good to meet you.” He extended his hand and Jungkook stared at it stupidly for a moment before he finally remembered what he was supposed to do with it, and he ducked into a bow as he took Namjoon’s—huge, thick, strong, his brain provided helpfully—hand into his own.
“It’s an honor to meet you, Namjoon-ssi,” Jungkook said, and didn’t realize until he’d already said it that the words came out in Korean, and he definitely shouldn’t have assumed—but Namjoon’s smile, if anything, seemed to get warmer. He moved back from the door to give Jungkook room to enter.
“Jungkookie!” Taehyung’s voice rang out from somewhere else inside the house. “You’re here! You’ve met Joonie-hyung!” Taehyung squidded over the hardwood floor on slippered feet and stumbled to a stop with a hand around Namjoon’s considerable bicep, looking up at him adoringly.
It was a little strange to see Taehyung outside of his work uniform. Instead of his usual, plain black pants, Taehyung was wearing a pair of dark brown, pleated pants, the kind of thing Jungkook would have called old-fashioned on anyone else, but on Taehyung looked classic . His t-shirt sleeves were rolled a few times to show more of his lean arms, and the way he’d tucked it into the front of his pants emphasized the delicate curve of his waist.
Namjoon ruffled a hand gently through Taehyung’s dark curls. “I have some work to finish up this afternoon inside. You’ll be good, hm?”
Taehyung nuzzled into Namjoon’s hand on his head and hummed. “Course, hyung, I’m always good.”
“You aren’t,” Namjoon rejoindered with a laugh, teasing but clearly so fond of Taehyung that it made Jungkook ache a little, made him wonder what it would feel like to have that kind of affection turned towards himself. “But you’ll stay out of trouble for me, today, yeah?”
“Namjoonie-hyung is our head Dom,” Taehyung said, like he was just offering a simple explanation, and there was nothing in his words or demeanor that would indicate he had any fear of Namjoon at all. Not even a hint of hesitation to his teasing, or to the way he leaned into Namjoon’s touch for more.
Still, Jungkook’s insides froze all at once. Of course he knew that Taehyung’s Eros included Doms. Taehyung had said as much himself, and of course that meant there would be a head Dom, because there had to be for it to be a legal Eros. Yet somehow Jungkook hadn’t thought about that at all when he’d accepted Taehyung’s invitation. He certainly hadn’t imagined coming face to face with said Dom first thing, and how could he have known that the head Dom would look like that ? That he’d have dimples and a nice smile and shake Jungkook’s hand like Jungkook was a whole person deserving of that kind of respect.
Jungkook dropped into a lower bow, ninety degrees with the floor the way he was taught, head down and staring at the floor where his gaze belonged. How could he have met Namjoon’s eyes? And in his space, too? Stupid , his brain hissed at him. “Sorry, Dom-ssi. I meant no disrespect.”
It was Taehyung that tugged on his shirt until he straightened up, so he kept his eyes averted.
“Jungkook-ssi,” Namjoon said, and his voice was deep and rich, and it didn’t even spike with irritation. And Namjoon had called him—
Jungkook snapped his head up, heart pounding with a different kind of panic. He didn’t want Namjoon to get the impression that he thought so highly of himself that he’d expect a Dom to use honorifics with him. That was patently absurd. “That’s, I mean, you don’t have to, I’m not—”
“It’s alright,” Namjoon soothed, and Jungkook hated himself a little that it was actually soothing.
Then Namjoon put a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, and he might have meant it to be comforting, or grounding, but Jungkook flinched so hard Namjoon could have seen it from space even if he hadn’t been paying attention. Which, of course, he had been. He pulled his hand back immediately, too, like Jungkook’s comfort meant something. The whole thing was making Jungkook a little dizzy again. His instincts were rioting inside him; he wanted to kneel at Namjoon’s feet, and he wanted to run and never look back.
“Kook-ah?” Taehyung asked tentatively. “Can I touch you?”
Jungkook managed to nod somehow, and Taehyung took his face in both hands, gentle and kind the way Taehyung always was but firm in how he tipped Jungkook’s chin up so they were looking eye to eye.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Jungkook’s tongue darted out to wet his lips and he shot a glance at Namjoon. Namjoon’s brows were furrowed a little, and the corners of his mouth turned down.
“I didn’t?”
“No, you didn’t,” Namjoon said, and Taehyung nodded.
They both seemed certain of it, but Jungkook had been around long enough to know that Doms could be capricious, that the rules could change without Jungkook knowing that they’d changed, like a rug getting pulled out from underneath his feet. Better safe than sorry. Namjoon seemed nice, but so had Jungkook’s old Dom. At first.
“You don’t have to call him Dom-ssi, either. That’s not how we do things here, ok?” Taehyung added, looking for all the world like he was waiting for Jungkook to answer.
“Yeah, alright,” Jungkook said, looking down at his scuffed black boots once Taehyung let him and playing nervously with the hem of his shirt. He resolved to just never address Namjoon directly. “Sorry.”
The moment hung there, awkward and strained, and Jungkook was sure that Taehyung was going to regret inviting him, that Namjoon would tell him he should probably just go. He was tense, waiting for it, braced. His headache was starting to beat at his skull again. He was being weird, he knew that, ruining whatever small chance he had of making a real friend.
Instead of kicking him out, Namjoon cleared his throat and leaned down to press an affectionate kiss to Taehyung’s temple. “Don’t forget dinner’s at six, Tae. Jungkook is welcome to join us, but it’s his choice. Have fun with your shoot, yeah?”
As soon as Namjoon walked away, Taehyung swung into action. He swept the door closed behind Jungkook and pulled him through the house by the wrist so fast that he had no time to look around, leading him straight out onto a back deck overlooking a lush garden of a backyard. The plants were clearly neatly tended, but there were so many of them that it looked practically like a jungle anyway, a riot of different shades of green, the plants healthy and fragrant from the early autumn rain they’d been getting for the past week. A small gravel pathway snaked past a small pond and into the greenery.
“It’s beautiful,” Jungkook said and he really meant it. The garden had a feeling of peace about it, as though it stood apart from the city around them, quiet and still.
“Yeah,” Taehyung said with a bit of dreaminess in it, the hint of a sigh. “Namjoon-hyung did the whole thing after we moved in. He’s been working on it for years. I thought it’d be the perfect backdrop for some portraits, what do you say?”
Jungkook smiled, tried to shake off the last few minutes of mortification. “I’m at your service.”
Taehyung really was gorgeous when his face lit up.
It was easy to forget that there was a Dom, maybe more than one, lurking just inside the house once he and Taehyung got started. Taehyung was effervescent and giggly as he did Jungkook’s makeup—”Just a little because really you’re so pretty, Kookie”—and led Jungkook around the yard, sitting him on a bench here or leaning him against a tree somewhere else, snapping photos on an old-fashioned film camera. All the while, he offered Jungkook encouragement and praise along with simple instructions that were easy for Jungkook to follow.
And through absolutely no fault of his own, thank you, Jungkook started to slip. He didn’t notice at first, it was so slow and fuzzy, like slipping on a warm robe after a hot shower. His brain slowed down, thick and sweet as syrup. His focus was soft and his belly warm, his mouth tipped into a little smile because Taehyung’s compliments just felt so good . It was good to follow his direction; Jungkook was being good and Taehyung was telling him so, and it had been so long since Jungkook had felt this way that there was a profound relief to it. Like things had been wrong for a long time and they were finally righting themselves.
“Kook-ah,” Taehyung said softly, and oh, he was squatting in front of Jungkook, stroking the knuckles of one of Jungkook’s hands with his thumb. Jungkook wasn’t sure when he got there. “Hey, honey, you’re pretty far under, hm?”
It was hard to think, but Jungkook hummed to show he was listening. Honey . Taehyung called him honey .
“You’re so sweet like this,” Taehyung murmured, and Jungkook’s cheeks turned hot. He tried to duck his head, but Taehyung bumped it gently back up with a finger under his chin. “Aigoo, you must have been exhausted to go down so easily.” Taehyung looked back over his shoulder at the house. “I should get one of the hyungs,” he said, chewing on his bottom lip.
Jungkook whined. He didn’t mean to, but he didn’t want Taehyung to go. The idea of being alone sent a little spike of panic into his chest, and he couldn’t imagine anything worse in that moment than Taehyung’s attention being somewhere else.
“Yah, alright, Kook-ah, ok. I won’t go anywhere. Come here,” Taehyung said, tugging him until he flopped onto Taehyung’s lap in the grass. It was easy for Jungkook to let his head loll against Taehyung’s shoulder, and easy to melt into his chest, to let Taehyung’s arms circle around his waist and keep him there. He could have probably fallen asleep like that, and it would have been better sleep than he’d gotten in years.
The sound of a door opening barely stirred him, but the voice he heard next got his attention.
“Tae-ah!” a voice he didn’t recognize called.
Taehyung stiffened underneath Jungkook, and Jungkook opened eyes he hadn’t realized had slipped closed. A man was approaching them. He was tall, broad-shouldered like Namjoon but leaner. And he was pretty, bangs falling over his forehead in a graceful sweep.
“Yah! Tae-ah! Dinner started ten minutes ago!”
It was like a pane of glass shattering in Jungkook’s head, how quickly everything changed. He tried to take a breath and it got stuck in his throat, his heart climbing up behind it, beating frantically and stuck there. He pulled against Taehyung’s hold, tried to get his limbs to cooperate so he could scramble away. He’d gotten Taehyung in trouble. His head Dom had told him—and time seemed so slippery to Jungkook, but it was no excuse, it wasn’t. He was bad and he’d made Taehyung be bad and he was torn between wanting to tuck Taehyung behind him, to protect him, and wanting to hide himself.
“Tae-ah, what’s—”
“Hyung, somethings wrong, I don’t know what to do!” Taehyung sounded frantic, and Jungkook knew, he just knew, that Taehyung was scared and it was all his fault.
“Please,” he slurred at the figure approaching them, hands unsteady out in front of himself like he might stop what was coming.
What happened next was a blur: Taehyung’s arms around his chest, the other man’s hands around his wrists, voices yelling—two, then three, then more—the taste of salt in his mouth, vision and thoughts both a blur.
“Jungkook-ssi, listen to me,” the man said, and his voice was all Dom, confident and deep and commanding.
Jungkook wanted to listen, he did, but it was hard. Did Dom know he was trying? He really was, he was trying so hard to be good, but everything was confusing. “Please,” he said again, and then everything went dark.