-ˏˋ TAEKOOK | FAVORITES ˎˊ-

Want You Close

Author/ feathered
Word Count/ 4.9K
https://archiveofourown.org/works/10661766
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It's late November and there's a layer of frost clouding the window panes when Taehyung wakes him up at 2:30 in the morning. He pulls the covers back and slithers underneath and the sharp point of his elbow jabs Jungkook in the spine.

"Move over, Kook. S'like fucking Siberia out here."

The heat in their apartment doesn't work. His own core temperature is pleasantly warm but Taehyung's bones are frozen and he wraps himself around Jungkook to thaw. Which Jungkook doesn't normally mind; his hair is soft and his knits are cuddly and he smells like fruit.

But it's 2:30 in the morning and Taehyung's in his bed and he doesn't like that. There's a terrible burning in his veins and he wants to roll on top of him, press his body down, kiss those arctic lips until there's nothing left but melt water. But he doesn't know how well that would be received. He never knows.

"Mmph—get off me," Jungkook bats his hands loosely in the air above him, still half-asleep.

Then Taehyung giggles whisper-soft and he's very much awake.

Jungkook turns his head and sees warm, golden-brown even in pitch dark, familiar eyes, perhaps more familiar than his own. But he's stared into them more times than he can even be bothered to remember and they remain uncharted territory, infinite and unreadable.

Taehyung keeps his heart locked tightly away, storied in an inaccessible deep-freeze and it's maddening because Jungkook wants to possess it but he doesn't quite know how. Especially not in the quiet still of early early morning, when all rationale takes an elaborate leap out the window and every nerve in Jungkook's body is screaming to take take take, all of him, everything.

He only takes what Taehyung's willing to give, a skewed line between platonic and non. But it's really fucking hard when he's curling his long body around Jungkook's, nose in his hair, feet tangling under sheets and he fits so perfectly against Taehyung's broad chest and it's comfortable and he smells fresh and clean and boy and—Taehyung. He's lightheaded and heavy-lidded and he knows he should pull away but he'd rather let himself be swallowed by Taehyung's limbs. So he stays. But this is the last night, he promises himself that. Taehyung can just sleep with a fucking electric blanket, so long as he's not crawling into Jungkook's bed in the middle of the night to fuck with his brain and heart and everything else. Well—it's probably not intentional, but the fact remains.

An icy palm lays flat on the soft of his tummy and Jungkook sucks in a sharp gasp. "Jesus, Tae," he hisses through teeth that are tightly gritted from shock but mostly because Taehyung's hand is resting on his bare lower abdomen and why does he have to do that?

"Shhh, Jungkookie—sleep now," Taehyung's warm breath tickles the back of his neck and his long fingers are tracing idle patterns on his hipbone.

But Jungkook doesn't sleep. He lies awake because he's painfully hard in his sweatpants and it's not like there's anything he can do about it, not with Taehyung snoring softly beside him, arms a viselike grip. He hates Taehyung. He really fucking hates him.

—

When morning finally comes Jungkook finds Taehyung eating a frozen chocolate-chip waffle at the breakfast counter and he greets him with a peck on the cheek but nothing more than that. He wants Taehyung to bend him over that counter. He takes a shower instead. And if he jerks himself off with a frustrated grip and Taehyung's name heavy in his mouth—well, no one needs to know.

When he returns to the kitchen, towel around his waist and hair dripping water down his cheekbones, Taehyung gives him a bright smile, looking like a goddamn peach. Jungkook hates himself, just a little.