Archive of Our Own

Jungkook had been working at Hoseok’s club for two years now, and he very much planned on working there for years more. More than two, for sure. He couldn’t imagine ever leaving. He’d be old and gray and on stage in heels, upside down on a pole, cane tossed to the side but bedazzled to shine in the show lights.

Maybe he’d switch to bartending to keep from breaking a hip, but he would be there. If Hoseok was there, Jungkook would be there.

Hoseok treated all of his dancers well. He treated all of his employees well, those on stage and behind the bar and guarding the doors and private rooms. He was the best club owner that had ever existed. Jungkook had only worked for two before him but he knew it had to be a fact. He made sure his dancers were fed and healthy and made more than just what would cover bills, he made sure they were treated well by clients and his rules for private dances were absolutely non-negotiable, he made sure they were happy even outside of the club, and not even just because their personal lives inevitably affected their dancing. He was just good.

And Jungkook wanted to be good, too. He wanted to be more than just a dancer, more than an employee.

When Jimin had trained him those years ago, he had already had a pretty little bracelet around his wrist, one that he never took off. One with a teensy little lock, opened only by a teensy little key, one that he looked so proud and bashful of when Jungkook had finally asked about it.

“I’m one of Hobi’s,” he said, smiling at his bracelet with an unmatched fondness. They were all Hoseok’s, technically, on his payroll and usually dedicated to him more than a usual employer, but Jimin said it like it was special, like it was different, because it was.

Taehyung had a similar anklet, glitzy but understated, something that caught the light when he was on the pole and emphasized what a shining star he was.

Seokjin liked to say he was more a seductress than a performer and tended to work the floor, but the necklace he wore caught attention (or at least Jungkook’s attention) all the same. A gold tag reading JHS dangled from the chain. It wasn’t long enough for him to take it off without unclasping it, and it carried the same lock as Jimin’s bracelet. One he couldn’t undo himself.

The head doorman was his, too, a burly, overwhelmingly handsome man that always had a dimpled smile for Jungkook. He had a leather band around his wrist, another JHS embossed in the rich fabric, a gold embedded lock holding it in place. He’d also said Jungkook was his favorite dancer more than once, even when it made Taehyung and Jimin yell and attack him with smacks that were lighter than they could have been.

A year into his employment, Jungkook’s favorite bartender showed up with a heavy chain necklace, a very obvious lock hanging on his chest. Jungkook liked Yoongi a lot, he always made him yummy mocktails and whistled him over when he saw a customer Jungkook wasn’t too fond of try to get his attention.

But he hadn’t really known that there was any more room to be one of Hobi’s. He thought they were a complete set, Hoseok with his boys, Jimin and Tae and Jin and Joon. He thought he was satisfied with his collection, his four pretty things, his toys, the loves he greeted with a kiss and gave possessive touches and teasing looks throughout the night. He thought Hoseok had enough boys that would show up with pink asses or marks on their neck or carefully tied ropes if they needed reminders of something Jungkook wasn’t privy to. He thought he hadn’t had a chance.

But now—

He couldn’t ask how to win his favor, because he didn’t want to offend and he didn’t want to make them think he was jealous in a bad way and he didn’t want them to tell him for sure and for certain that Hoseok wasn’t interested in him like that. Hoseok smiled and laughed with him and asked after him seriously and took every worry Jungkook had (and even with his anxiety meds, Jungkook had many worries) seriously. Hoseok was kind and sweet and warm and Jungkook loved him as an employee and also as a friend, and Jungkook also loved him loved him, secret and shy.

But not secret and shy enough to not try.

He always put on a good show, obviously, he was good at his job and loved what he did and even if he did feel like it was work it was still usually fun. But if he saw Hoseok in the crowd or on the floor or just in the vicinity, he tried extra hard. He pulled out his best moves, he put on his best lusty face, he did his best to make himself wantable. And if he got a private request (as he usually did), he told Hoseok about it (though he was a good employer, he always made a point to know where his dancers were), and at first Hoseok asked if that was okay, if he wanted him to find a substitute if Jungkook didn’t want to, but now—

“I have a private room in ten,” Jungkook told him in the break room, sitting on the vanity counter and counting his tips from his last set. 

Hoseok sat in the chair in front of him, giving him a bright smile. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhm. With one of my regulars.” He glanced up. “Is that okay?”

“It’s okay, cutie,” Hoseok smiled. He took the stack of bills Jungkook offered; he’d transfer funds directly into his account. Jungkook hated going to the bank. “You’ll do well for me, won’t you?”

He could mean he wanted Jungkook to do well for the sake of the club, or to represent him as the owner well. But Jungkook chose to interpret it as for him, like he was dancing for him, like he was performing for Hoseok himself. Sometimes he thought he might not need to interpret.

“Yes, hyungnim.”

Hoseok snorted, giving his leg a squeeze before he stood, pressing a quick kiss to his temple. “Make sure you hydrate, okay? I made sure to stock up on those electrolyte drinks you like.”

“Oh!” Jungkook perked up. “Thank you, hyung!”

“And ice your ankle if you need to,” he said, much more sternly. “I’ll put you on the floor if I see even a hint of pain. Hell, I’ll put you on bedrest—”

Jungkook nearly said he would love that, but Hoseok would actually do it, and it would not be the bedding Jungkook yearned for in his lonely apartment. And he didn’t want to be stuck on the floor, either. He loved being on stage.

“I will after, I promise. I think he has a foot thing but won’t say so, I was gonna go without heels anyway.”

“Good boy,” Hoseok praised. Jungkook shorted out, but only for a moment. Maybe two. But it was long enough that Hoseok looked amused at his expression, and gave his thigh another quick squeeze. “Are you coming to house dinner after close?”

“Uh-huh. Jinnie-hyung said he cooked most of it.”

Hoseok rolled his eyes. “I helped enough that that’s only half true.”

Jungkook giggled, hopping off the counter. “I believe you. I won’t say so to hyung or he won’t feed me the best cuts of meat, though.”

“Ah, I understand. Our baby deserves the best.”

Jungkook grinned. “Am I still the baby?” A few younger-than-him dancers and bartenders had been hired over the past few months, and though Hoseok liked them, like he liked all of his employees—

“You’re still my baby,” Hoseok said solemnly. He offered his pinky and Jungkook hooked it with his own, blushing and beaming. “Go on, I’ll see you later. Joonie’s in the private hall tonight, he’ll look after you.”

“I know, hyung. Thank you.” 

Hoseok waved him off with a pat to the small of his back, so close to his ass that Jungkook nearly whined at the loss of what could have been. “Be good for me, Jungkook-ah! I’ll see you soon.”

-

House dinners happened once or twice a month, and they were always an eventful affair. Employees who weren’t even working that shift would come in just with their own dishes and often significant others, everyone greeting each other with yells and hugs and kisses and platonic nearly-nude cuddles that they had long since perfected.

Hoseok allowed an open (within reason) bar, with the stern reminder that their bartenders were not on the clock and to not ask them for fancy cocktails all night. He also had to remind said bartenders to actually take a break because they loved what they did and ended up making them anyways.

It was loud and fun and team-building and felt like a genuine family, one that many of them, Jungkook included, felt they were lacking before. And there was no hierarchy, of course, not like there sometimes was when working, if only for the practicality of it, and Jungkook was pretty sure that most of his coworkers didn’t feel the envy he did when he glanced up to see the table that Hoseok and his boys occupied.

It was a place of honor, he felt. A place of even more belonging. A place that he would never presume he was allowed in. Except.

Like the dinner before, and the dinner before that, and the one before that, he was waved over. It was Taehyung the first time, with no excuse but to hug him close to his side, then Yoongi, to show him something on his phone and not letting him move anywhere else after, and Jimin the next, to wash his makeup off after eating, tipsy and giggly and infecting Jungkook with it even without drinking.

This time—

Jungkook moved like he wasn’t in control of his own body, sure he looked as wide-eyed and awed as he felt but unable to do anything about it, and Hoseok tugged him right onto his lap.

Hoseok didn’t do this with anyone but his boys. He didn’t get handsy with employees. He gave them hugs and pats and purely platonic if not professional brief kisses on their faces but not lips, but not like this.

He put his arm around Jungkook’s waist, his touch feeling hot even over Jungkook’s loose t-shirt, and he didn’t even say anything, he didn’t even seem to invite him over for any reason other than to hold him, talking over him with Namjoon, thumb just barely rubbing his side.

Jungkook felt teary eyed, overwhelmed, needy, greedy, wanting, and perfect. Hoseok was holding him, he was held like he was something small and precious and not the heavy puppy he was sometimes called, fond and teasing. He felt so nice at that moment, so good—

He hadn’t meant to zone out so deeply, but it felt like no time before he realized most people had cleared out, that the dishes had already been run through the wash in the small kitchen, that the people who remained were saying their goodbyes or finishing up their drinks or waiting for cabs or were Hoseok’s boys.

Namjoon had moved closer to Hoseok at one point, and had the hand not around Jungkook’s waist held in his own. His knees were bumping Jungkook’s warmly. Yoongi was behind them now, too, occasionally offering his own comments. Jungkook blinked and turned to see him, and Yoongi smiled at him, gentle and calm. His hand rubbed Jungkook’s back, just above Hoseok’s arm.

“Back with us, baby?” he asked quietly.

That caught Hoseok’s attention. “Oh! Jungkook-ah, I’m sorry—”

Jungkook didn’t mean to tear up, but he couldn’t help it. Hoseok was sorry? He didn’t mean to have Jungkook here? He regretted holding him so kindly? He—

Hoseok kept his arm around him, but used the other to gently wipe his tears, looking guilty as Jungkook sniffled pitifully. “Hyung didn’t mean to send you down,” he explained, cupping his cheek before wrapping him up in a hug. “I should have tried to bring you out of it.”

“D-down?”

“You got a little spacey on us, Kook-ah,” Jin said, swooping in to give his temple a kiss. “But you looked so comfortable we didn’t want to rush you up.”

Jungkook nodded, reaching up to wipe his eyes. “M’sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Hoseok said, stern enough that Jungkook whimpered. He softened, squeezing him closer for a moment. “It’s my fault. I should have noticed sooner.”

Jungkook sniffled. “Comfy.”

“I know, baby. I’m glad you feel comfortable with us.”

You, Jungkook wanted to correct, but he realized us was even more true. He had Yoongi and Namjoon on either side, Jin had been tidying up around them, he could hear Jimin and Taehyung giggling in the dish pit, and Hoseok—

He leaned into his chest before he could convince himself to not, reveling in the warmth and the way his arms tightened around his waist. “Thank you.”

“Ah, sweet boy—” Hoseok cooed, kissing his temple. “Want to spend the night with us?”

“Ye—” Jungkook froze, cutting himself off. “No. Can’t. Bam needs out.”

“Our Bammie?” Jimin gasped, wiping his hands on a towel as he emerged. “Where’s our Bammie?”

“Not here,” Yoongi said. “I would love if he was here,” he clarified, like Jungkook didn’t know he loved Bam as much as everyone else, “but I am not getting my bar health coded.”

“Your bar, huh?”

Yoongi lifted his chin. “My bar.”

“I’ll take you home,” Taehyung offered, nudging Namjoon until he moved away enough for Taehyung to plop himself on Jungkook’s lap. Hoseok oofed and Jungkook giggled. “I need to water my plants, I haven’t been home in a few days.”

Jungkook did his very best to not feel sad about that, the way he always did when he remembered how often he and Taehyung used to hang out before Tae started spending most of his time at Hoseok’s with the rest of them. Hoseok had been in the process of house shopping when Jungkook had first started, and his boys were more dispersed than they were now. He was pretty sure only Taehyung and Yoongi still kept up their own apartments. Taehyung’s was only a block down from Jungkook; he missed having someone so close. 

He would never, never fault them for their own closeness, for having such a wonderful place to call home, to be together—but he could be jealous. Just a tiny bit.

“Will you walk Bam with me?”

“You’re both going to have an escort,” Hoseok said.

“No, I’m a dancer,” Taehyung teased. Hoseok only rolled his eyes.

Hoseok gave his cheek a loving tap that made Taehyung let out a hum as he gave a boxy grin, not at all repentant. “I’ll drive you, babies. Grab your stuff.”

Hoseok and Namjoon joined them, but to Jungkook’s quiet disappointment, Namjoon convinced Hoseok to head home. He had afternoon dance classes (not strip or pole, but hip hop for teens) and would need to rest. Though they had closed early for dinner, it was still nearing sunrise.

He didn’t mind that Namjoon was there, of course he didn’t, he loved Namjoon, but waving Hoseok off—

“Let’s get our Bammie baby,” Taehyung grinned, leading them up to Jungkook’s apartment with a sweet enthusiasm that somehow fit the very-early-very-late hour. 

Bam was, of course, happy to see people other than Jungkook, running in circles between them all until Jungkook wrangled him into his leash and outside collar. He knew to expect a shorter walk when Jungkook got back from work, and Jungkook always made up for it with a wake up run, but he couldn’t help but indulge him in a longer than usual one, both because he loved his puppy and because he loved his friends.

He was happy with them, always. He was happy for them. He was happy that they left him at the door of his apartment building with hugs and kisses on his cheeks and pets for Bam and promises to text him when they got to Taehyung’s apartment safely. He was happy they had each other, walking hand in hand, side by side, laughing quietly together as they just existed happily in the same sphere, in a relationship that was warm and sweet and so wonderful—he was happy that Hobi had brought them together.

-

It wasn’t a drop, though Jungkook kind of wished it was so he could have something to blame it on that wasn’t just him. But it wasn’t a drop, it wasn’t early stages of an illness, it wasn’t anything but his own emotions making him lock into himself, laying in a bed that was too lonely in an apartment that was too quiet, resting a hand on Bam’s head when he whined worriedly. He’d hoped their wake up run would shake him out of the sadness he was feeling in his bones, but he collapsed into bed before he’d even showered.

He should turn on some music, he thought. Or a show. Or go down some mindless YouTube rabbit hole for a few hours. He should do something.

The something he decided to do was to dig out his silenced phone from the blankets and text the shift managers plus Hoseok chat that he wasn’t able to come in that night and to maybe ask one of the newbies if they wanted to try the stage. He didn’t say why he couldn’t, responding idk when one asked if he was feeling under the weather. It was a Monday night; they could handle one less performer, or one newer one.

He stared at the text that came through from just Hoseok asking if he needed anything for far too long.

no, he decided on. thanks hyung.

He was more than glad to be able to fall asleep just a few moments of abject depression later. His sleep was deep enough that the knock at the door seemed to come just after he closed his eyes. He sat up, confused—there was still a bit of light coming through his curtains, it had to be late afternoon, early evening at most. There was a knock again, and then an unmistakable voice calling “Jungkookie?”

Jungkook didn’t even think as he dragged himself from bed, limbs heavy and head foggy, to open the door for Hoseok. He couldn’t imagine ever not doing something Hoseok wanted, even if that meant getting out of his sad little nest.

Hoseok looked so pretty, and it brought tears to Jungkook’s eyes. When Hoseok cooed and dropped his bag and hugged him close-close-close without even closing the door, he couldn’t keep them from falling.

“My baby,” Hoseok said against his temple, swaying him back and forth just a little, enough for Jungkook to feel even more secure in his arms. “What’s going on, hm?”

Jungkook shook his head. That was not something he could admit. “J-just—just a hard day, hyung. M’sorry.”

“No sorries, sweetheart. Have you eaten?” He clicked his tongue at Jungkook’s silence, but he didn’t loosen his hold. “I was worried about that. Hyung brought some soup and chicken, and some medicine if you’re not feeling well, and a knife—”

“A—” Jungkook blinked, sniffling. “A knife?”

Hoseok shrugged, pulling away but holding Jungkook’s face in his hands. “I didn’t know what was wrong. I wanted to be prepared.”

“To kill?”

Hoseok shrugged. “Or maim, at least. I have to take care of my Jungkookie.”

I’m not yours, Jungkook thought. He never, never wanted to say it. He never wanted it to be true. That didn’t mean he didn’t start crying again before he had ever truly stopped.

“Oh, Jungkook-ah,” Hoseok frowned. His own eyes were watering behind his glasses and it just made Jungkook want to cry even more. “Baby, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“I—”

He wanted to say that he didn’t know, but that was a lie, and he couldn’t lie to Hoseok, he couldn’t. But how could he say what was wrong? How could he say what was really and truly wrong, what was hurting, what was choking him with jealousy and envy and want that made him feel sick? What could he say? So he stayed silent.

Hoseok looked at him, searched his face, but didn’t force the question.

“Let’s sit down,” he said, quiet and gentle. “Let me take care of you.”

Jungkook closed his eyes and nodded once. He could let the guilt consume him later. For now, he let Hoseok lead him to the small kitchen table, let him feed him soup, not moving his own hands after Hoseok pointedly kept the spoon from him, let him take Bam out while Jungkook showered, put on the comfy clothes Hoseok had laid out for him before he left.

He curled up on the couch and waited for them to get back, taking a shaky breath when Bam pushed the pillow in his arms away to replace it with himself, still a lap puppy even though he was a full grown dog. He held onto him as Hoseok pressed a kiss to the crown of his head after slipping out of his shoes and hanging up Bam’s leash.

“M’okay, hyung,” he said, cheek pressed to Bam’s head. “You can go if you want.”

“I don’t want,” Hoseok said, gentle but stern. “Unless you want me to go.”

He didn’t. He really didn’t. And that made it worse.

He buried his face in Bam’s neck as a sob broke out, Bam whining in concern, stomping worried paws on his thigh.

“I-I want too much,” he choked out, “I want too much.”

“Oh, Jungkook-ah,” Hoseok said quietly, and there was no way he would sound so gentle if he knew the jealousy that was plaguing him, and Jungkook could only be thankful it was pushing him into sadness and not into anger. He wasn’t an angry person. Anger was scary. He never wanted to be angry at anyone for love. “I don’t think it’s possible to want too much.”

Jungkook let out a humorless laugh. “There is. There really is.”

“Like what?”

Jungkook just sobbed, holding Bam close. He shook his head and nearly flinched when Hoseok touched his hair, thought about scrambling away when he sat close to his side but the thought of not touching when it was being offered was too much to handle. Hoseok put his arm around him and didn’t dodge when Bam squirmed to lick excitedly at his chin. For some reason it just made Jungkook cry harder.

“What do you want, Jungkook-ah?”

“I-if what I want was possible,” he managed to get out, “it would have h-happened already. I just—I need to stop, hyung, I need to stop wanting, but I can’t, I can’t—”

“Oh, sweet boy—”

Jungkook choked out another sob and Hoseok fell quiet.

“Jungkook-ah,” he said, and Jungkook felt such a sinking feeling that he knew. 

He was terrified, now, shaking against Hoseok’s side, burying his face in his hands when Bam hopped off of them both to drink his water. Here he was, wanting, knowing he shouldn’t, and surely Hoseok’s rejection would be gentle but final and he could stop, but why did stopping feel almost as horrible as the thought of keeping on, wanting forever and ever, dreaming and hoping—

“Maybe,” Hoseok said slowly, words chosen with care that Jungkook didn’t think he deserved. “What you want is waiting for the right moment.”

Maybe he didn’t know, Jungkook thought. Maybe that was worse.

“Maybe what you want just wants to make sure that it’s—right.” He could hear Hoseok’s small frown, because he knew Hoseok, knew his voice and face and mannerisms and how he looked when he saw someone he loved more than life itself— “Maybe—maybe it just needs to make sure you want it back.”

Jungkook let out a choked laugh. “I’ve been too embarrassingly obvious for it to not, hyung. I’ve been—I’ve been humiliating, really, I should be ashamed of myself—”

“There’s nothing shameful about you, Jungkook-ah,” Hoseok said, but no amount of sternness could convince him otherwise. “Jungkook—”

Jungkook looked at him when he didn’t continue, hating that Hoseok would see him so red-faced and snotty and not the cute little thing he desperately wanted to be. But Hoseok didn’t cringe at it. He furrowed his brow and searched Jungkook’s eyes with his own and he didn’t judge or frown or look at Jungkook like he was a stupid presumptuous brat—

He tucked him under his chin, holding him close enough that Jungkook could practically climb onto his lap, work his way under his shirt, be closer to him than he’d ever been—

“Hyung loves you,” he said, lips brushing Jungkook’s forehead. “You know that, right?”

Jungkook nodded. It felt like rejection. “Love hyung. Love you a lot.”

“Love you a lot, too, baby. We should talk later, though. When you can think a little more clearly.”

Jungkook would take rejection just as badly on the best of days, but he nodded anyways.

“Want to put on a movie or something?” Hoseok asked. 

Jungkook blinked. “Not leaving?”

“No way. I don’t usually have my Jungkookie all to myself. I’ll leave if you want me to, but—”

“Don’t go, hyung. Please.”

“I won’t go anywhere.”

Yet, Jungkook added. But yet was not now, and he could be selfish a little bit longer. There was no way it would hurt any more than it already would.

-

Hoseok had left him late that night; he hadn’t even gone into the club even though Jungkook knew Tuesday was his paperwork day. Instead, he stayed with Jungkook as he tried not to mope, took Bam out with him, because Jungkook refused to not do that for his baby if he was at all able, kept him warm and fed and as happy as he could be even if he still felt like a traitor to himself and to Hoseok when he leaned into his side with a neediness he was sure would never be reciprocated the way he so badly wanted.

Hoseok tucked him into bed, kissed his temple, cupped his cheek to urge his tears away before they could fall, and Jungkook valiantly waited until he heard his door lock and counted to one hundred before he let himself sob into his pillow.

Stupid. Hopeless and stupid.

-

still feeling off bunny? want me to cover tonight? Taehyung texted the next afternoon. 

Jungkook had done a very admirable job of being a normal person, though one who probably needed therapy or to tear through ten one-night stands in an effort to feel something that wasn’t sad. Maybe he could have used another night off, but—

It would be a slow night, he wouldn’t make much outside of his hourly wage, but he couldn’t spend a night alone. Even if it meant he would be spending it with Hobi’s boys.

no thanks im good, he replied. Then after a moment, staring at Bam where he had fallen asleep with his tummy in the air and legs all askew, he pouted. i wanna bring baby

do it lol yoongi hyungs not working tonight

im not gonna disobey yoongi hyung even behind his back lol

But—if Yoongi wasn’t working tonight, and he worked only a few blocks away—

hyeonggg

What do you want.

:( can bam and holly have a sleepover.

Ok.

Jungkook smiled a little, his first all day. He texted Taehyung, holly bammie sleepover

Taehyung sent a few party emojis and thankfully didn’t ask why. Jungkook was not a good liar. When Jungkook was sad, Bam got sad, and Jungkook did not want him to be sad alone. And he loved Yoongi almost as much as Jungkook; he’d be glad to have a playdate even if he and Jungkook were the happiest they’d ever been.

He delivered Bam a little before his shift, and almost regretted it when Yoongi opened the door in a loose tee and loose shorts and heavy chain around his neck, with his pink elbows and knees and toes showing in the soft light of his apartment. He really almost regretted in when Yoongi gave him an assessing look. His face was so shiny, nice and freshly cleansed, and Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to look at it.

“Just want him close,” he mumbled in explanation.

Yoongi accepted it with a nod, so calm and steady as he always was, even as Bam and Holly chased each other with loud, happy barks behind him.

“If you want to have a sleepover, too, you know the code. I’ll probably be awake, though.”

“Yoongi Jungkookie sleepover?” he asked, heart leaping. He loved his hyungs. He loved them so much. All of them.

“Yoongi Jungkookie sleepover,” Yoongi agreed. “You look pretty tonight, baby. Go show yourself off.”

Jungkook blushed and let out a quiet laugh. “Yeah, well. Thanks. I’ll text you if I go home instead.”

“Good boy,” Yoongi said, giving his chin a little squeeze. Jungkook had to leave before he did something stupid like cry his makeup off. Again.

Jin and Jimin were the only Hobi boys working that night, and they seemed content to let Yeonjun and Beomgyu play around on the poles for the small crowd. There was a group of women giving them ample tips, too; Jin made sure to give the men on the other side of the stage occasional attention to keep them from getting too jealous.

He did leave the men with a sultry “Be back soon” when he spotted Jungkook coming onto the floor, though, and Jungkook didn’t fight his mother henning as he scolded him for abandoning them the night before and worrying them, all the while checking him over and touching him gently and giving him warm hugs that turned into shoves that turned into hugs again.

“Hi, hyung,” Jungkook said simply.

Jin gave his forehead a chastising kiss. His locked necklace was glinting in the pink club lights.

Jimin came up to hug him from behind, nuzzling the nape of his neck. “Are you feeling better, bunny?”

Jungkook felt a blush rise; he could tell Jimin knew he hadn’t been sick, just from the tone of his voice. He hated worrying them, and he hated feeling so bad he couldn’t do anything but stay home even more. “Yeah. Mostly, I guess.”

“Let’s get you to more than mostly. Who do you want to spend the night with?”

“Hyung!” Jungkook truly blushed then, flapping his hands before covering his face. “Stop, you know how that sounds—”

“It can sound however you want it, baby, but you’re not going home alone.”

“I left Bam and Yoongi-hyung’s, I’m probably gonna go there.”

“Good,” Jin said sternly. “I’ll go with you.”

“I want to, too—” Jimin rushed.

“Is his apartment even big enough for that?” Jungkook asked.

“Who cares?” Jimin squeezed his waist. “You should take over for the babies, soon. They’ve been up there for an hour and keep almost making out.”

There was a very well-timed round of yells from around the stage as they did, in fact, make out, bills flying up to meet them. 

“New love,” Jimin sighed.

Jungkook snorted. “They’ve been messing around since high school, remember? They told us so in their interview.”

“I was the one interviewing,” Jin sniffed. “You two were just eavesdropping.”

“You interviewed them when we went out for BBQ!”

“That’s not on me, that’s on you for not plugging your ears. Aren’t interviews supposed to be confidential?”

They kept bickering over Jungkook’s shoulder and he found himself relaxing into the sound of their voices. Sad or not, he would always feel right in their company. Even if—

He didn’t think about how he wasn’t one of them. He just leaned into their touch.

“Jimin-ssi!” someone called, too loudly for a nearly-empty club but with a friendly enthusiasm to make up for it. “Are you free?”

Jimin peeled himself from Jungkook’s back to wave at the newcomer. “Oh, sweetheart, did you come to see me?”

He wandered off with his regular and Jungkook grinned as he watched them go back to the private rooms. At least one of them would be making bank. And considering that a few of the women were making their way to the ATM in the corner, it would be at least three of them.

Jungkook sighed, letting Jin take his hand and lead him over to the bar. Jungkook knew it would be a conversation before Jin even opened his mouth and nearly preemptively curled into himself. But Jin just—looked him over, lingering on his neck.

“Are you alright, Kook? For real.”

Jungkook sighed and nodded shallowly, taking a shaky breath he hoped Jin couldn’t hear over the music. “I’m okay. I am. Just—just kind of—dealing with some things. I’ll be okay, though. I just have to get over it.”

Jin pursed his lips, peering at his face. “Hoseokie said he was with you yesterday.”

Jungkook closed his eyes even though he knew Jin would see that, needing to not cry, at least until he was by himself. “Yeah. He—yeah. He was really nice to me.”

“Really nice,” Jin muttered quietly, seemingly to himself. “Did you talk?”

Jungkook shrugged, tilting his head back and taking a deep breath. “Not—not really. I wasn’t up for talking much. But I’m okay now,” he rushed, “I’m—I’m okay. I’ll be okay.”

Jin hummed, glancing at his neck again. Jungkook swallowed.

“I’m okay,” he said again. Maybe if he said it enough he’d convince himself.

Hoseok didn’t work on Wednesdays, which, perhaps, was part of the reason Jungkook decided to come in. He should have known he’d be making up for missing the day before.

Jungkook was curled up on his favorite couch in the dressing room, sipping a carton of banana milk and scrolling on his phone, when Hoseok came in. He didn’t notice for a moment, but nearly yelled when he glanced and then glanced again when he realized someone was standing in the doorway. And when he realized it was Hoseok—

He had reached for him before he could think otherwise.

Hoseok sat on the edge of the sofa, running a hand through Jungkook’s hair. “Glad to see you, bunny.”

Jungkook nodded. He didn’t trust his voice.

“Jiminie said you left Bam at Yoongi’s.”

Jungkook nodded again. He let Hoseok take the drink from his hand and put it on the side table, cuddling him up as soon as he didn’t have to worry about a mess. Jungkook curled into his chest, letting him tuck him close.

“Come home with me tonight, Jungkook-ah.”

He left no room for argument.

-

Jungkook was quiet as he followed Hoseok home, a familiar path. He’d been there for parties once or twice, for house dinners another few times, but for everything else—

He’d been there with Hoseok and Jimin and Jin and Taehyung and Yoongi and Namjoon. And only them. Not their other dancer friends, not the other guards or bartenders, not any of the other staff. He’d been there with just Hobi’s boys.

Hoseok had texted Yoongi for him, saying he was coming home with him. Yoongi had responded with a thumbs up and a good luck that Jungkook was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to see. It was too confusing to make sense of, anyways.

Hoseok let them in and slipped out of his shoes and coat, taking Jungkook’s jacket from his shoulders and hanging it up for him. Jungkook felt more bare now than he did wearing his work clothes; no lacy thong could compare to the vulnerability of baggy pants and a too big shirt that he stole from Namjoon a year ago. Hoseok took him to the kitchen and sat him down on a barstool. Hoseok poured him a glass of water that he obediently drank, gave him a warmed croissant that Jungkook ate quietly, gave him his nighttime meds Jungkook kept in his bag, and after it all, Jungkook finally worked up the courage to look up at him.

Hoseok was looking back.

“Do you want to talk tonight or in the morning?” he asked. He reached across the counter for Jungkook’s hand, and Jungkook gave it.

“Tonight,” he said quietly. He wouldn’t be able to sleep if he had to wonder what Hoseok was going to say all night. He wouldn’t be able to breathe.

Hoseok nodded, took a quick breath, then nodded again. “Jungkook-ah—I love you,” he said, voice firm, leaving no questions. Jungkook felt weak, hand shaking where it was still held in Hoseok’s. “And I understand that this conversation requires vulnerability—on both our parts. I’m going to put everything on the table, and I—I hope—” he paused, took a quick breath. “Please understand you are under no obligation, and I’ll love you all the same no matter—no matter what.”

Jungkook felt tears prick at his eyes. “Hyung—”

“Kook—” Hoseok let go of his hand but grabbed it again when Jungkook let out a helpless keen. He brought it to his lips after he stood, kissing his knuckles. He looked almost harried; Jungkook wasn’t used to seeing him as anything but cool and confident. “Stay here, okay? Hyung will be right back.”

Jungkook couldn’t do anything but nod, watching as Hoseok hurried out of the room. He came back only a few moments later, a box in his hand that he seemed to be very deliberately not fiddling with. Jungkook furrowed his brows, wiping his eyes. “Hyung?”

“Jungkook.” Hoseok stood in front of him, putting the box on the counter and taking Jungkook’s hands into his own. Jungkook gave the box another glance before meeting Hoseok’s eyes. “You are—so important to me. To all of us. It’s like—it’s like we were meant to find you, like I was meant to find you.”

Jungkook swallowed thickly. It might not be that, he thought, but he couldn’t make himself believe it. It might not be, but—he nodded, stroking Hoseok’s knuckles with a thumb. “I feel the same,” he said quietly. “Sometimes—sometimes I feel like it too much.”

“Is there such a thing?”

Jungkook frowned, glancing down before forcing himself to meet his eyes. “I don’t know. A lot of the time I just—want it differently.”

“I don’t think it’s that different, bunny.”

Jungkook’s heart leapt in his chest before he felt a mean little pang. “If it isn’t different, why—why are you talking to me now? Why not any time before? I haven’t—I’ve felt like this for almost as long as I’ve known you. I-if it took you this long to be sure—”

“That’s not it,” Hoseok interrupted, an unfamiliar desperation in his voice. “Bunny. Jungkook-ah. That’s not it. I’ve wanted—” He paused, pursed his lips, straightened his back. Like this, he was taller than Jungkook. It made him feel small; even when he felt a fire in his tummy, he didn’t want to move. “I need to speak more clearly. I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings. Jungkook-ah, I think you are wonderful, I think you’re beautiful and clever and sweet and make the world a better place by being in it. I am so lucky to have you in my life, and I’m even luckier that you want to be in mine. You are a gem, Jungkook-ah, a treasure, and I’m a selfish man. I think that much is obvious. I want you to be mine.”

The admission, the honesty, the desire for the same thing that Jungkook desired most—it was enough to make him dizzy, to make him want to lean into the fluttery excitement, into the call of a soft fuzzy happiness that Hoseok so often made him feel. But— “That doesn’t answer my question, hyung. Why now?”

A blush made its way up Hoseok’s cheeks. “Because I’m a selfish man, but, ah. I’m also a perfectionist.”

Jungkook gave him a semi-unimpressed look before Hoseok took the box from the counter, running his hand over the top.

“I needed to find something perfect. I’ve never—I’ve never made a wrong choice, I’ve never had to—replace anything or find something more to my boys’ liking, and I really—I had to do right by you. I had to find something perfect—”

Jungkook glanced at the box. “Ask me.”

“Will you say yes?” 

Hoseok sounded like a nervous child, and any worry or aggravation or nonexistent second thoughts disappeared from Jungkook’s head. He shrugged. “Ask and find out.”

Hoseok made a worried little noise but steeled himself, straightening his shoulders and looking at Jungkook with the suave, gorgeous confidence that Jungkook was used to. Even if it was a little put upon now.

“Jungkook-ssi.” He opened the box, revealing a beautiful dark leather collar, a sturdy lock in the shape of a heart latching it in the front, a classic little keyhole right in the center. There was a key in the box, too; not one of the thin little sticks that unlocked the more delicate locks of Hoseok’s other boys, but one attached to a bracelet made of the same leather, one that was easy to remove but easier to secure. “Will you be mine?”

Jungkook promptly burst into tears, throwing himself at Hoseok, arms around his neck. “Yes,” he thought he said, but he was relatively sure it came out as nothing more than an emotional blubber.

Hoseok pressed a firm kiss to his temple anyways, holding him close after putting the box back on the counter. “Mean it?”

Jungkook nodded quickly, “Do you?”

“God—yes, I mean it so much—”

Jungkook sobbed again, burying his face in his neck. “I want it on.”

“You’ll have to let go of me for a minute, then, baby.”

Jungkook whined, holding onto him tighter. “No. Want it.”

“Baby—” Hoseok laughed, squeezing him close. Jungkook had never felt more romanced than when Hoseok let one hand wander down to his ass, giving it a pat that could have been friendly if he had not just asked Jungkook to be his. “Can I collar you? Please?”

Jungkook still whined when he loosened his hold on Hoseok, but he was soon entranced by Hoseok picking up the collar. “S’mine?”

“It is,” Hoseok said. He put it around Jungkook’s neck, taking the key and snicking the lock shut with a satisfying finality. “Did hyung pick well?”

Jungkook nodded. “Never gonna take it off.”

Hoseok grinned. “Hyung won’t be mad if you want to take it off to shower—”

“No,” Jungkook said, quick and immediate. “Never.”

“Okay,” Hoseok said easily. “Let me see you.” He wiped Jungkook’s tears from his cheeks before holding him at arms length, hands on his shoulders and an appreciative eye on his neck. Jungkook tilted his chin up proudly. “Can I take a picture for the others, baby?”

The thought of being Hoseok’s, yes, but also being part of the others, now, being a part of something he had wanted for so long, something that called to him, that made him so happy—

“They’ll be happy?” he asked, more unsure than he wanted to be.

Hoseok softened, cupping his cheek. “They’ll be so happy, bunny. I should have listened to them earlier, but—” he glanced at the collar again, “hyung needed to get it right.”

Jungkook reached up to touch the collar, brushing his fingers over the smooth edge of it with an almost out-of-body sense of wonder. Still, he couldn’t help the yearning thought slip out. “I wish you had done it sooner, hyung. I’ve wanted to be yours for so long. But I’m glad you asked, don’t think I’m not, please—”

“I know, baby,” Hoseok said quietly, brushing his cheek with his thumb. “Stay like this, okay? You look so pretty, wearing my collar—”

Jungkook blushed, attempting to not preen but surely not quite managing. “Hyung’s collar,” he mumbled. 

Hoseok smiled as he took a few pictures, swiping through them to show Jungkook after. “You’re so beautiful, Jungkook-ah.”

“And yours?” he asked, almost childishly hopeful.

“And mine,” Hoseok agreed. He kissed his forehead, then his nose, then, after just a moment’s hesitation, of looking into Jungkook’s eyes—

Jungkook gasped quietly as Hoseok kissed him, frozen in place for only a moment before he kissed back, grabbing onto Hoseok’s waist with a gentle desperation that might have been greater than anything he had ever felt. Hoseok kissed him, slowly, sensually, sweetly, like there was nothing he would rather be doing, like there was nothing else he could imagine doing, like Jungkook was his, all his.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since your audition,” Hoseok said against his lips, not willing to part further than that.

Jungkook laughed. “If you hadn’t given me the job I was going to do my best to hook up with you. You were so—” He kissed him again, needily working his hand under his shirt to feel his skin. He gasped when Hoseok’s hands wandered to his ass, squeezing it experimentally. “Fuck—”

Hoseok smacked it with both hands and Jungkook thought he could cry from joy. “Be a good boy, baby. Good boys use nice words.”

“I don’t think there’s a nice word for what you make me feel.”

“You don’t think love is a nice word?”

“You make me feel enough love that it’s not even a word anymore.”

Hoseok laughed and kissed him again, moving up to hold his waist. “My most perfect boy—”

“Jimin-hyung will get mad if he hears that.”

“He thinks you’re perfect, too.” Hoseok pulled back to grin, eyes sparkling and gorgeous. “He’d still get mad, though, you’re right.” 

Jungkook giggled and went to kiss him again, but before he could—

“Jungkook-ah,” Hoseok said seriously. “May I take you to bed?”

They fucked to the sound of Hoseok’s phone buzzing until he turned it off, though—there was something so deliciously hot about him checking his phone still inside Jungkook, something hotter about him grinning devilishly, showing Jungkook his boys’ reactions to the pictures of Jungkook in his pretty collar that he had sent, something even hotter when he took a picture of Jungkook where he lay on Hoseok’s pillow, flushed and fucked out and Hoseok still inside him, sending it off before throwing his phone to the side, ignored in favor of giving Jungkook the best fuck of his life.

Then another, then another. Jungkook wasn’t sure how many times he breathed I love you against Hoseok’s lips that night, and every single one was met with the same.

-

“Jungkook!” Jimin screamed across the club—he was on stage, mid-dance, but apparently seeing Jungkook walk in for his shift was too compelling to ignore.

Beside him, Hoseok rolled his eyes. “Why do I keep him on when I have to find a replacement every time he gets excited—”

But he still gave Jungkook a parting squeeze, wandering off to find one. Hyuka took the stage just a moment later, getting the crowd’s enthusiasm despite the interrupted performance.

Jimin threw himself at Jungkook not even a moment later, wrapping his legs around him. Jungkook giggled, nuzzling his shoulder.

“Look at you,” Jimin said, clinging on.

“You’re not even looking at me!”

Jimin pulled back with a pout, unentangling himself to stand in front of him, staring at the collar around Jungkook’s neck. “Hobi-hyung collared you twice, Kookie. Look at those hickeys.”

Jungkook wrinkled his nose. “We’re not in high school anymore, Jiminie. They’re love bites.”

Jimin cackled, smacking his chest. “Oh, my baby.” He sighed, hooking a finger under the collar to feel it. “You’re even prettier than before, I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“I’m so happy,” he admitted quietly, like it was a secret. “Hoseokie-hyung wants me to be his—”

“Even more than you already are.” Jimin grinned. “You’ve always been his baby. And now—ah, you’re ours, too, you know? You’re our boy, too.”

Jungkook felt like he was glowing, his cheeks warming to match his heart. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Jimin said firmly. “And guess what?”

When Jungkook glanced up at him, Jimin took the opportunity to kiss him, gentle and sweet and chaste and strawberry-flavored. Jungkook felt too amazed to kiss back, but the look of wonder on his face must have soothed any worry if Jimin had any to begin with.

“I already called the first kiss.”

Jungkook touched his burning cheek, lips parting.

“After Hoseok,” Jimin clarified. “Didn’t you check your phone? We argued about it in the group chat for hours. I won mostly because I would already be here.”

Jungkook grinned. “I, uh, forgot to charge it. And I was busy all day.”

“Oh, were you?” Jimin teased. “You’ll have to tell me all about your busy, busy day.”

“Well—” he laughed, pushing past him and nudging his shoulder, “I’m not taking a break before I even start working. We can talk later.”

“Good boy,” Jimin praised. It didn’t hit the same way that Hoseok’s very, very potent ‘good boy’ did, but it made him shiver pleasantly all the same. “Yoongi and Jin hyungs are making dinner because we’re not convinced you two stopped fucking long enough to eat. We’ll go to Hobi’s, though—we can run by yours if you want, though, unless you want to keep wearing Hobi’s clothes. Is Bammie staying with you for your honeymoon or can we keep puppynapping him?”

“Honeymoon?”

Jimin quirked a brow, glancing at the collar. “That’s as good as a wedding ring.”

Jungkook felt a rush that was almost too overwhelming to handle flow through him. “Jimin—”

“Hyung,” he corrected.

“You don’t have to call me hyung,”

“You’re the worst and I love you so much.”

“Love you, hyung.” He perked up all at once, eyes widening. “Does this mean we can make out on stage now?”

“We can make out anytime we want to,” Jimin said seriously. He took Jungkook’s face between his hands and gave him a firm kiss to prove it. “Now go make your bag, bunny boy.”