Archive of Our Own

“Can you tell me–” Jungkook starts as he stands in front of Jimin’s table top. “–what exactly am I doing here so early on a Monday?”

Jimin looks up at his boyfriend, taking him in: disheveled, grumpy-looking, with his huge backpack hanging from one shoulder and wearing what looks like glorified pajamas. He closes the syllabus he had been revising and adjusts his glasses, trying really hard not to smile.

“It’s 11 AM,” he points out.

“Like I said.” Jungkook leaps past the table top and plops down on the seat to Jimin’s right, the lecture hall still empty enough that Jimin didn’t even bother to save the seat. “Too early on a Monday. And you’re not answering my question.”

“You’re here because you love me.”

“...Not right now, I don’t.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “I need this extra credit so I don’t have to enroll in the summer. And you could use an elective credit too.”

“Sure, but why am I here right now instead of just before graduation? You know, like everyone else who isn’t a lunatic.”

Jimin takes a deep, steadying breath. Says, “Remind me again who was the one whining about how we won’t see each other once I start my internship?”

Jungkook crosses his arms and leans back in his chair like a petulant child. “I wasn’t whining…”

“‘Oh, Jimin!’” Jimin starts, in a lovesick tone he knows is nothing like Jungkook’s voice – not that he cares. “‘Promise me you won’t meet some rich CEO and forget about me. Promise me you’ll wait for me. Wah wah wah!’”

“I don’t sound like that!”

“You absolutely do!” Jimin insists, only smiling a little. “I said we could both take this class to spend more time together and you agreed. Or should I start looking for a Sugar Daddy already?”

Jungkook glares at him and Jimin can’t take it anymore. He laughs, loud and joyous, throwing himself back on the chair so hard that it’s a miracle it doesn’t tip over. When the giggles fade, Jimin turns to a still grumpy, still glaring, and now sulking Jungkook, so adorable that he bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing again.

“Relax, big baby, I’ll help you with the schoolwork,” he says with finality. It’s a dangerous thing to promise notorious schoolwork hater Jeon Jungkook, but Jimin isn’t uptight enough as to waste their limited time together arguing about student ethics instead of making out.

Priorities.

The promise seems to appease Jungkook, who sighs resignedly and uncrosses his arms.

“I guess that’ll have to do,” he says as if he’s settling for the absolute minimum. Jimin shakes his head in disapproval.

“Big baby,” he murmurs, going back to revising the class’s syllabus.

Not a full minute passes before Jungkook is complaining again, his head resting on the table top and so close to Jimin’s book that he can feel the other’s breath on the back of his hand.

“Why did it have to be this one, though? You know I suck at English!” Jungkook says, face scrunched up in a grimace. Jimin ignores him, finishing up his revising just in time for his smartwatch to chime with the change of hour. More students have trickled into the seats by now, not many, but enough to make the lecture hall look less empty. “...You’re not really gonna look for a Sugar Daddy during your internship, are you?” Jungkook asks in a hushed tone, only for Jimin to hear.

Jimin opens his mouth to reply, but his train of thought is derailed when the door of the lecture hall opens and someone walks to the podium... only to stumble halfway and drop a pile of books on the floor.

“Oh, f–!” the newcomer says, then quietly adds “–really?”

In that moment, Jimin is pretty sure of two things: one, the guy wanted to curse but refrained – not like the lecture hall’s enhanced acoustics did him any favors; and two, considering that any regular student would have just cursed, this must be their English Composition instructor.

A very unusual English Composition instructor.

See, it’s been a while since Jimin has been interested in someone who isn’t his boyfriend. Not that it’s never happened, but after getting together with Jungkook in his senior year of high school, Jimin’s needs and heart felt full enough. Jungkook, on the other hand, is more prone to insta-crushes, but he’s always sure to let Jimin know and has never wanted to pursue them – even with Jimin’s blessing. It works for them, they’re happy, and until five minutes ago Jimin would have sworn he could go on like this forever.

And now it seems like the new guy has tripped and fallen into Jimin’s very particular spectrum of interests.

Mysteriously young, delectably tall, and distractingly handsome. A little clumsy, but with an air of confidence that makes everything seem more like a quirk than a flaw. Black, stylish hair, a body-hugging black knit sweater and fitted dress pants in a complementary dark color; not overdressed, but nice enough to tell he’s trying to make a good impression – and that he’s more than capable of pulling off the outfit.

Judging by his looks alone, Tall and Handsome doesn’t seem to be older than a Master’s student, a stark contrast to the affable sexagenarian who used to teach the class while handing out extra credits if students showed up for all his lectures and didn’t miss any assignments.

As far as Jimin knows, some PhD students have to teach in order to raise funds for their research, which could explain why the guy is here alone instead of as a titular professor’s TA. Jimin himself considered this path for when he finishes his Masters in the fall, but that was before he found the great internship opportunity that he’ll start in the summer. Sure, furthering his education sounds nice, but having a good job by the time Jungkook graduates so they can move in together and Jimin can wake up next to the love of his life every morning feels right.

Not that he would ever say that out loud.

“Hello, everyone!” Tall and Handsome says in English, dragon eyes finally looking up from the podium and his recently rescued stash of books. He makes eye contact with the class for the briefest of seconds, as if assessing them through his half-framed vintage glasses, then says in Korean, “I know you were probably waiting for Professor Don, but he happily retired last semester. So I will be taking over his class for this year.” He pauses and smiles, two charming dimples making their stellar appearance. “Let’s begin, shall we?”

Next to him, Jimin hears Jungkook’s barely audible but beyond hopeless “Oh no” and isn’t quite sure if it’s due to his boyfriend’s terrible English or his questionable taste in (older) men. Jimin would tease him if he wasn’t a little bit dazzled by the man too. Maybe they do share a single queer braincell, like their friend Taehyung keeps saying.

The temporary professor turns away from the class and writes something on the board. It’s clearly a name and what looks like a summary of their first module, all in the English alphabet. It’s a good thing that Jimin already knows the syllabus by heart, since he can’t seem to look away from the movement of the man’s forearm under his partially folded sleeve.

After a moment, the professor addresses the class again.

“I’m Kim Namjoon, but you should call me Mr. Kim from now on.” He keeps writing – and Jimin’s eyes are definitely not glued to the guy’s broad shoulders. “Pardon my handwriting, everyone. I promise next time I’ll have a fun presentation for you to sleep through,” Mr. Kim jokes without turning around, in a knowing tone that says, “I’ve been there too, kids. I see you.”

Jimin chuckles softly and so do a few others. But Jungkook is suspiciously silent. While Mr. Kim continues to write, Jimin looks at his boyfriend from the corner of his eye and has to stifle a laugh at what he sees.

Jungkook is transfixed, eyes wide and round, lips slightly parted too. His hands are on the table top, his back straight, the bored, careless attitude from before long forgotten. Mr. Kim makes another witty remark about their upcoming schoolwork and Jimin’s boyfriend giggles, eyes shining and laughter definitely too loud for a simple comment from a new professor.

If cartoon heart eyes were a real thing, they’d be popping out of Jungkook’s eye sockets by now.

When Jungkook starts cutely articulating every word coming from Mr. Kim’s mouth, Jimin shakes his head in amusement and turns his attention back to the professor his boyfriend is already so gone for.

If anything, this one promises to be an interesting semester.

***

Working hard in academia is not something Jungkook is used to.

Sure, his grades aren’t bad, but that doesn’t mean he works hard, it just means he’s often lucky and understands things quickly in class. He doesn’t work hard at home either. He hates homework, so much so that it’s basically a trait of his at this point.

But things change, and so do people. More so people who are infatuated with their new professor.

Jungkook has never been so immediately attracted to someone as he was to Mr. Kim, not even to Jimin. Truth be told, he didn’t like Jimin at first, with his perfect grades and his perfect hair and his stupid perfect crooked tooth sticking out of his perfect pretty smile. It took Jungkook a while to realize that it was more about learned, internalized hatred than about Jimin being anything but amazing, and with that out of the way, it was easy for Jungkook to admit that he had a gigantic crush on Jimin.

Speaking of gigantic crushes, Jungkook’s crush on Mr. Kim was instantly epic.

It was embarrassing, really, the way his boyfriend teased him about it as soon as Mr. Kim was gone on that first day.

“You like him, right? And don’t you dare lie to me,” Jimin said without looking at him, packing his things to go have lunch together.

“I don’t like him,” Jungkook lied indignantly. Jimin gave him a sideways glance. One second, two, three... “Okay, yeah, I like him. Is it that obvious?” he asked, mortified.

“I mean, babe, he praised your pronunciation and you turned bright red.” Jungkook grunted, defeated. Jimin snorted and patted Jungkook’s shoulder. “Relax, I don’t think he noticed. You just have to learn how to hide it better. Like me!”

And that, well. That was a surprise.

Jimin isn’t one to admit a crush so easily, let alone a crush on a professor. But there’s something special about Mr. Kim, something Jungkook noticed the second he laid eyes on Mr. Kim. So maybe Jimin had noticed it too.

Or maybe he’s into handsome older guys, which, fair.

They didn’t talk about it right away – partly because Jungkook didn’t want to ruin it by taking it too seriously, but mostly because Jimin is too busy preparing for his summer internship for them to waste time doing anything other than making out when they have the chance. They already have Composition homework, though (because Mr. Kim is as good-looking as he is ruthless), and if they’re going to waste precious boyfriend time conjugating sentences in the past perfect tense as a refresher, they might as well talk about the (dimpled) elephant in the room.

“So... Mr. Kim, huh?” Jungkook says eloquently. Sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him, Jimin sighs and Jungkook waits. One second, two...

“It should be illegal to be a teacher when you’re so goddamn hot.”

“Right? And those thighs!” Jungkook says, throwing his hands in the air for emphasis. It’s a good thing they’re alone in Jungkook’s dorm room, no one else there to witness them drooling over their professor. “He’s so hot it makes me want to die!”

Jimin snorts.

“So much for the ‘let’s do our homework together’ thing,” he says.

Jungkook shrugs.

“Discussing Mr. Kim’s hotness is more fun.”

“Maybe.” Jimin taps his mechanical pencil to his lips distractedly, frown lines creasing his otherwise perfect brow. Jungkook wants to kiss those lines away, and other places for good measure... “Or maybe homework is exactly what we should be doing.”

Jungkook blinks, tearing his gaze away from Jimin’s bouncy lips.

“...Say what?”

Jimin raises an eyebrow but otherwise doesn’t comment on Jungkook’s evident distraction. Instead, he asks, “Do you know what a ‘teacher’s pet’ is, Jungkookie?”

***

“Ah! The fresh meat. How’s your new job going?”

Namjoon looks up from his work laptop, the glare of the screen still clinging to his vision. “You call this a presentation? Snooze material, that’s what it is!” his office software says in his head; the hundred-and-one open browser tabs agree.

…Maybe he should have had that energy drink he was craving earlier.

He blinks and stares at his oldest friend in the faculty – now working far away and making more money than Namjoon could ever dream of as a substitute teacher. Dark, shoulder-length hair tucked behind his ears, black trousers, baby blue shirt, glasses and a mocking smile to match his feline eyes.

“Did you come all the way here just to make fun of me?”

Yoongi chuckles and takes a seat in front of Namjoon’s desk. He moves some documents around, then places a reusable bag on the newly cleared area.

“I came to feed you because my boyfriend insists on making you food.” He takes out some containers: two large and square, the rest small and round. Also disposable chopsticks, napkins and water bottles. The smell makes Namjoon’s mouth water.

“Main course and side dishes?” Namjoon says, already moving the rest of the academic mess to a nearby chair. “Can I marry your boyfriend?”

“Over my dead body,” Yoongi says, breaking Namjoon’s chopsticks and handing them to him without looking.

They eat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying each other’s quiet company and Seokjin’s incredible food. Namjoon is so grateful for his two friends making sure he eats properly.

“So, first few weeks as the youngest temporary professor. How were they?” Yoongi asks.

Namjoon shrugs. “Okay, I guess,” he says around a mouthful of rice and stir fried vegetables. “Not many students, but I expected as much. Composition isn’t very popular even in our mother tongue.”

“It should be, though,” Yoongi interjects, moving his chopsticks around his own food. “It’d make grading papers way easier and less headache inducing.”

Namjoon snorts. “You teach Architectural Design at a private university. Do students even write in your class?” he asks, quickly dodging a balled up napkin thrown his way.

“Of course they do, asshole!” Yoongi says. Namjoon laughs harder. “At any rate, it’s not me we’re talking about. It’s you and your three and a half students.”

“Seventeen,” Namjoon corrects, if only because it gives him the opportunity to stall. “A good number, considering.”

“You think they’ll all finish it?” Yoongi asks.

“I think there’s hope for some.” And Namjoon means it.

The first weeks of class weren’t anything out of the ordinary, pretty much what Namjoon used to do as Professor Don’s TA, but without the affable old man to call the shots.

He still remembers being offered the position by his department head both to fulfill the teaching hours required for his PhD and to help out until they found Professor Don’s permanent replacement. It helped that English Composition was one of Namjoon’s favorite classes, boring as it may sound to others. With a Master’s degree in Foreign Languages, it would be sad if he didn’t love everything related to it – which doesn’t necessarily mean that teaching it is one of his strengths. He’s not bad at it per se, but there’s an awkwardness to it that Namjoon always overthinks.

There’s a reason why Namjoon said there’s hope, though. Two reasons, actually. The same reasons that made him so distracted before Yoongi arrived that he kept imagining his office software insulting his presentation.

“Already have a teacher’s pet, huh?” Yoongi asks and Namjoon almost chokes.

“I– no, I don’t have…”

“You don’t have…?” Yoongi looks at him expectantly, mirth in his eyes and a smirk curving his lips.

“No pets,” Namjoon says, clearing his throat. “Just students.”

“Mm-hmm. Whatever you say, Joon.” Yoongi doesn’t push further, his attention back to his lunch.

Namjoon also looks at his food, allowing himself a moment to remember.

Two boys, one with long dark hair, big Bambi eyes, and a full sleeve of tattoos, the other with bleached blond hair, a pretty smile, and magnetic eyes that followed Namjoon’s every move through the classroom.

Namjoon is used to being around beautiful people (his own best friend Seokjin is a model for a skin care brand), but it’s been a long time since he found someone attractive. It doesn’t help that they seem to be a couple, leaning over each other, smiling at each other, and helping each other out when Namjoon switches to English to keep the class on their toes.

Generally speaking, the blond – Park Jimin – is a textbook know-it-all, while the brunet – Jeon Jungkook – is your regular I’m-here-because-I-have-no-choice, who was probably persuaded by his (boy)friend to take the class together. Yet there’s something about them, something Namjoon cannot shake.

But he’s trying. If not because they’re clearly younger than him, then because it’s against university law to date a student – let alone a couple. So he does his best to keep his distance, and that means no teacher’s pet for him, even though both boys would totally deserve that title. He’s trying and no amount of perfect answers from Jimin or cute mispronunciations from Jungkook could make Namjoon break university law and lose everything he’s worked so hard for.

(Not even if he really, really wants to)

***

“Mr. Jeon, Mr. Park. Can I see you in my office after class?”

That’s all Mr. Kim says after handing back everyone’s final paper grade except for the two of them. Then he smiles dashingly at the class, wishes them all a good summer and leaves as if the lecture hall could catch fire at any moment. Not looking back, not even stumbling, just rushing out the door so fast that Jimin is pretty sure some of the guys’ things are still on the podium.

Jimin turns to look at an equally confused Jungkook while the rest of the students are already leaving, oblivious to their predicament.

“Do you think we went too far?” Jungkook asks, eyes wide with fear.

“Guess we’re about to find out,” Jimin says, already resigned to having to take a single, solitary class after returning from his internship just to complete his Master’s.

Are they in trouble? Jimin hopes not. Although nothing good ever comes from being called to the professor’s office instead of getting a proper grade or even an explanation. And the thing is, there’s no one to blame but themselves and their damned competitive nature, always trying to outdo each other to win Mr. Kim’s (academic) heart.

“I bet he’ll praise me in front of the class again,” one would say.

“Oh yeah, what if he gives me extra credit?” the other would challenge.

Then they would do their absolute best to earn just that every single class, rinse and repeat.

The last due assignment, however...

“I want you to write a paper on a topic that you’re really passionate about. Forget correctness or even English grammar. Just pour your heart into it and do your best!” Mr. Kim had said, unknowingly sparking a flame that may or may not have become a wildfire.

They taunted each other for weeks after getting the assignment, making bets, hiding their drafts and ideas from one another, even bringing it up during heated make-out sessions – with questionable outcomes.

As for Jimin, he knows what he did and how it could have cost him the class. Jungkook, though... Who the hell knows. At any rate, now they’re standing in front of Mr. Kim’s office like a couple of idiots. Whether they’ll be reprimanded or fail the class altogether remains to be seen.

“Come in,” Mr. Kim says after Jimin finally knocks on the door.

They take a deep breath, shrug at each other as if to say “oh, well”, and enter the alleged slaughterhouse.

***

“Ah, Jungkook, Jimin. Thank you for coming. Please have a seat.”

Jungkook moves in a daze, the possible (negative) outcomes whirling around in his brain like angry wasps. He takes a seat in front of Mr. Kim’s desk and Jimin does the same, then there’s a thick, awkward silence.

Jungkook stares at his cuticles in anticipation, trying to steel himself for what’s to come. But Jimin isn’t one for waiting.

“Are you failing us, sir?” he asks.

Jungkook looks up with eyes wide open, but his boyfriend looks calm, even resigned. Are they really done for? Jungkook was hoping they weren’t, but maybe…

“No, Mr. Park. I’m not failing you,” Mr. Kim says, his tone neutral.

“Then why are we here? If you don’t mind me asking,” Jimin insists, and damn! If Jungkook wasn’t so worried about his academic future, he’d be drooling over his boyfriend’s hot attitude. As it is, though–

“Did we do something wrong?” Jungkook asks, turning to look at the professor and channeling his best kicked puppy energy. It’s a last resort thing, only to be used in life or death situations, but given what he and Jimin pulled out, this might as well be one.

Mr. Kim stares at them for a moment, his expression inscrutable. Then he sighs.

“To be honest, I don’t even know,” he says, slumping back a little in his seat. He looks tired and young. Is he really that much older than them? Jimin seemed to think so, but now Jungkook isn’t so sure anymore.

Mr. Kim opens a drawer, takes out a folder, and closes it again. He checks the contents for a few seconds, then takes out two sets of papers and places them in front of them, one for each.

Their final papers.

Mr. Kim went out of his way to print them, even though they were submitted by email. They’re also graded: B+ for Jungkook and A+ for Jimin.

“You did a great job, you two,” Mr. Kim explains. “I mean, I knew you would. You’ve been nothing but consistently good all semester. So yes, those are your grades. However–”

Mr. Kim turns his attention to Jimin and taps the title of Jimin’s paper with his index finger. Jungkook looks at it too, it reads “Romantic Student-Teacher Relationships: A Positive Spin”.

Oh wow.

“It was a very interesting read, well sourced too. I especially enjoyed the ‘Case Studies and Demonstrative Examples’ section, or I did until I got to the last one and the names were Professor Min Namjoo and Student Park Jungsoo. Bit on the nose, don’t you think?”

Jimin doesn’t defend himself. Instead, he says: “But you gave me a 100.”

Mr. Kim chuckles softly.

“I did,” he admits. “You made an excellent argument through and through, Jimin. Your grammar was flawless as well. I couldn’t not give you a 100.”

“Then I don’t see the problem,” Jimin says, tone and expression almost innocent, but Jungkook knows better. It’s his “I know I misbehaved but I dare you to call me out on it” move; Jungkook has seen enough of it every time his boyfriend cheats during Game Night.

“See, maybe I wouldn’t have either,” Mr. Kim says. “Except then I read this.” He taps on Jungkook’s paper, and Jungkook doesn’t need to look to know what it says: “Ode to Kim Namjoon’s Thighs” in bold, centered letters.

In Jungkook’s defense, it was late at night, Jimin wouldn’t show him his paper for reference, and he’d been listening to an English poetry podcast to practice his pronunciation. At the time it sounded like a great idea to one-up Jimin. It also came to him naturally, the words pouring out of him without a second thought…

Maybe that should have been a sign not to turn it in right after.

Jungkook grimaces, turning to look at his boyfriend to avoid Mr. Kim’s eyes on him. This time, Jimin isn’t impassive. His eyes are wide and his eyebrows are doing funny things. He’s about to laugh. He’s so about to laugh.

Jungkook looks back at Mr. Kim just in time for Jimin to cover his face with his hands and melt into a giggling puddle. The professor seems unmoved by Jimin’s background sound effects, looking at Jungkook as if to ask him to say something for himself. But what can he say other than, “I’m sorry.”

Mr. Kim blinks, looking confused.

“Why? You did a great job, although you need to work on your use of the present perfect, punctuation, and capitalization. Your paper also manages to evoke all the right things for an ode, which is impressive given...” Mr. Kim clears his throat. “the topic you chose.”

Somewhere next to Jungkook, Jimin makes a sound like he’s either wheezing or dying. They ignore him again..

“I guess I’m apologizing because it was totally inappropriate to submit that as a final assignment,” Jungkook says, doing his best not to cover his ears in embarrassment.

Mr. Kim smiles kindly. “I have to admit I’m a poetry nerd,” he says. “And I really liked yours. You have a nice way with words.”

Is that… a compliment? A compliment on Jungkook’s poem? His poem about Mr. Kim’s heavenly thighs? Jungkook’s ears are officially on fire.

“I… Thank you, sir,” he manages to say, bowing for good measure.

“You’re very welcome,” Mr. Kim says, then with a teasing smile, “and thank you for all the qualifying adjectives about my legs.”

“Oh, God,” Jungkooks croaks, following Jimin’s example of covering his face, but for completely different reasons.

Next to him, Jimin speaks again, his laughing fit apparently over.

“But what does Jungkook’s paper have to do with mine?” he asks, sounding serious again. “We didn’t even work on them together.”

After a moment of silence, Jungkook hears Mr. Kim’s heavy sigh.

“I know you’re a couple,” he says. Jungkook immediately tenses up, bracing himself for the worst. “And, honestly, I’m okay with it, please believe me. I won’t make a fuss and I won’t go around telling people because firstly, it’s none of my business, and secondly, to me you’re no different than, say, Kyungsoo and Youngji from your class who are also obviously together. But the thing is, Kyungsoo and Youngji didn’t hand in their final papers as an obvious way to make fun of me.”

“We… what?” Jimin says, the confusion in his words matching Jungkook’s own.

But Mr. Kim doesn’t stop. He says, “I don’t know what you were trying to do, if it was some kind of shared joke between you two, but even though I won’t fail you because your papers are more than acceptable, what I don’t appreciate is being made fun of or whatever else is going on here–”

“No,” Jungkook interrupts, loud and clear, surprising even himself.

“Pardon?” Mr. Kim asks.

“No!” Jungook repeats, more confident this time. He looks up again, to where Mr. Kim is looking at him expectantly. “You said it was a joke. It’s not. We’re not joking! And we’re not making fun of you either… sir,” he adds, turning to Jimin for support and finding him smiling that sweet smile that always makes everything better.

Then he reaches for Jimin’s hand and Jimin takes it.

“You’re right, sir. We are together,” Jimin says. “Very together, actually, being high school sweethearts and all. But…” Jimin’s grip on Jungkook’s hand tightens and Jungkook squeezes back. “You got it all wrong too. We’re not trying to mess with you. We’re trying to date you.”

“You what?”

“Or, well...” Jimin rushes to say. “Maybe not date you, but more like let you know how we feel about you.”

“About me,” Mr. Kim repeats in a monotone. “And that’s… how, exactly?”

“I mean, isn’t it obvious?” Jimin teases. Jungkook doesn’t know how he manages it in a moment like this.

“...I guess it is,” Mr. Kim says, then almost as an afterthought: “You do know student-teacher relationships are strictly forbidden here, right?”

Something wild thumps inside Jungkook’s chest. That wasn’t a “no”, not even a “I’m not into men”. It was more about logistics, about rules. Is Mr. Kim considering…?

But there’s no time for Jungkook to process this revelation, because his boyfriend smoothly follows up Mr. Kim’s words with: “Then it’s a good thing we’re not your students anymore and can take you out for lunch when we’re done here, huh, Mr. Kim?”

A pregnant moment passes, Jungkook waiting for them to be thrown out of the professor’s office and Jimin dead silent for once. Then from all the things in the world he could do, Mr. Kim smiles and shakes his head as if he can’t believe this is happening to him.

Jungkook can relate to that.

“Okay,” Mr. Kim says, and Jungkook’s chest thing does a summersault. “But no seafood. I hate seafood.” He pauses for a second and looks at both of them, first Jimin then Jungkook. “And please, you can call me Namjoon.”

* . * . *

“...Hello?”

“Ah, Namjoon! The man of the hour! This is your favorite friend speaking.”

“Yeah, okay,” Namjoon says, balancing the phone between his shoulder and ear as he uses his hands to turn off his work laptop.

On the other side of the line, Seokjin gasps exaggeratedly. “Am I not your favorite friend, Kim Namjoon? Remember I’m cooking and hosting tonight, so you better choose your next words wisely.”

Namjoon chuckles quietly but plays along, knowing that his friend would never hold Namjoon’s birthday dinner hostage – at least not for long.

“Of course you’re my favorite,” he says, “Min Yoongi? Jung Hoseok? I don’t know them! I only know the face of GQ Korea’s Man of the Year, Mr. Kim Seokjin!”

Seokjin hums in approval. “See? Was that so hard? But don’t overdo it, Namjoonie, you’ll jinx it.” Namjoon rolls his eyes. “Anyway, I didn’t call you to make predictions. I’m calling to know the status of the cake and whether I need to whip something up before I hop in the shower.”

Namjoon snorts. “Cake’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he says, closing the laptop at last.

It’s a blessing that Seokjin offered his house for the night. Otherwise, Namjoon would’ve had to spend the days before his birthday deep cleaning his apartment instead of catching up on work. Not that either option was appealing, but at least grading essays didn’t end with him sweating buckets and covered in dust.

“Mhm. Are you sure? Are your paramours still alive?” Seokjin asks, and Namjoon…

“Define ‘sure’,” he says.

Seokjin huffs and Namjoon can practically hear his exasperated eye roll.

“You’ve been holed up in your office, haven’t you?”

“Uhh…”

Seokjin sighs.

“Go check on Thing One and Thing Two, Namjoon, please. Make sure they haven’t burned down your kitchen.”

“...Can I call you back?”

“Not a chance,” Seokjin says, sounding final. “Just go check and tell me what you find. I’ll wait.”

So Namjoon goes.

He rises from his desk chair and stretches his arms toward the ceiling, his joints popping in a satisfying way after so many hours of slouching in a less-than-ideal position. His phone is in his hand now, but he doesn’t press it back to his ear, carrying it from the office to the kitchen like an inconvenient fidget toy.

As soon as Namjoon steps out of his office, the smell of something sweet baking takes him straight to the source. The kitchen area is separated from the dining area by a counter, and the dining area is connected to the rest of the apartment by a long hallway that leads to the bedroom, TV room, and Namjoon’s office. Namjoon stands at the entrance of the hallway, half dazed both by the smell and the scene before him.

Jimin and Jungkook are behind the counter, both wearing matching aprons (yellow for Jimin, pink for Jungkook) and covered in cake mix and flour. They’re wrestling for some reason, Jimin trying to smear melted chocolate on Jungkook’s face and Jungkook holding Jimin’s hands to avoid it. They’re both giggling, grins lighting up their faces as if there’s nowhere else they’d rather to be. Namjoon can relate, their shared happiness as contagious as it was on that first day over a year ago – the day Namjoon decided to give their clumsy proposal a chance.

There’s a ding and they suddenly stop. Jimin puts on oven mitts and opens the oven, taking out a golden looking cake that he puts on the counter. He looks up at Namjoon, smiles, and in perfect English says, “Cake’s ready, darling. Happy birthday!”

Jungkook smiles at him too, a cake mix stain on his cheek, and Namjoon can’t help but smile back, something warm and cozy spreading from the tips of his toes to the top of his head because, isn’t he lucky?

He finished his PhD and was just offered a tenured professorship, his friends are hosting a dinner party for him, and his two boyfriends baked him a whole cake. He’s the luckiest man in the world!

Lucky and so, so in love.