#Team Fluff | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

elliewithcellie · 5 months ago

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summary: After months working for the BAU, your harbored feelings for your boss seem unrequited until your hunt for the unsub goes awry. (hotch x fem!reader)

wc: 9.8k (oh my god)

cw: slow burn, boss/employee dynamic, age gap pairing, criminal minds level violence, mention of alcoholism, implication of father issues, hurt/comfort, reader gets hurt, fluff, angst, SMUT (18+ MDNI), oral (f receiving), p in v sex, Hotch is a professional at heart and takes work boundaries seriously

a/n: Back in the saddle with a new man to hyper-fixate on. Hotch can GET IT. Also, let me know if anyone wants the SFW version I'm working on

“Looks like we’re doubling up,” Hotch announced, a sigh escaping his lips.

Before you could even process his words, the rest of the team sounded off, choosing their roommates for the duration of the case. All that remained were you and your boss. With the team dispersing, you awkwardly shifted your duffle bag to your other shoulder and looked up at Hotch.

His stern expression didn’t change as he looked back at you. “Come on. We’re 202.”

You followed him to the elevators, still unsure what to think. This was not only your boss but someone you had garnered quite a fondness for since you joined the BAU. Of course, you had managed yourself professionally thus far, but you were sure this was going to test your limits.

You understood the immediate pairings among the rest of the team. You were still fairly new, not quite to the rapport that the team had formed with each other. But it also made you think about how no one chose Hotch. The pressure to be Unit Chief also had to be lonely.

The elevator chimed, and the two of you shuffled in. You kept to yourself, trying to maintain composure. The lift from the first floor to the second felt like an hour, the silence deafening. You couldn’t shake your nerves. The doors opened, and he stepped out. You quickly followed.

Hotch opened the door and allowed you in first. The two double beds, office chair, mini fridge, and small bathroom were all less comforting to you than normal.

“Do you mind if I take the bed by the door?” Hotch asked, his voice softer than usual.

You blinked up at him, stirred from your preoccupation. “Yeah, of course. I like the window side anyway.”

“Thank you. If you’d like, you can have the shower first. I’d like to call Jack before he heads to bed.”

“Sounds good.”

You began to unpack your belongings and sighed in dismay. You had assumed that you would have a room to yourself as usual, so your pajamas were a little more revealing than you’d prefer your boss to see. Still, a t-shirt and shorts were reasonable sleep attire, so you tried not to dwell on it. You collected your things as Hotch dialed a number on his phone.

“Hey, buddy, how was your day?”

You smiled to yourself as you entered the bathroom. His “dad” voice was more upbeat, yet calm and soothing. With Hotch distracted on the phone, you could relax in the shower. The boiling water stung your skin, just the way you needed it. As you relaxed, you realized how silly it was for you to stress over the rooming situation. Hotch was here to do his job, just like you. And other than his intelligence, his kindness, and his fierce compassion for kids, you were sure you were only infatuated with him.

You finished up your shower and towel-dried your hair once you could no longer hear his muffled voice through the door. You were desperate not to waste Hotch’s time. With your hair still wet and your large t-shirt hanging over your shorts, you timidly exited the bathroom back to your bed, on your toes as if you were sneaking around. Hotch sat on his bed, his coat jacket now on the desk chair. He flipped through channels with the remote in one hand and loosened his tie with the other.

“All yours,” you spoke, struggling to get the words out.

Hotch looked up at you and gave a small smile. “Thanks.” He gathered up his things and closed the bathroom door behind him.

Another sigh of relief left your lips. You grabbed the book from your duffle and climbed into bed. You rolled over to turn on the lamp next to you and began to read, but before you knew it, sleep overtook you.

------

“Hotchner.”

You woke up to Hotch answering his phone. The sky was still dark. The only light illuminating the room was the alarm clock. You realized that you hadn’t turned off the lamp before you fell asleep, nor did you place your book carefully on the side table with a hotel pen as the bookmark.

“Alright. Yes. Right. Understood. We’ll be right over.”

You looked up at Hotch expectantly. He looked at you, then averted his eyes as he got out of bed. “Another young girl missing. She’s only 16.” He paced the floor for a moment, a short-lived break from the stoic leader he always has to be.

“I’ll call the others,” you said sitting up. His eyes returned to yours, the strain turning into relief. He only nodded and headed for the closet, suiting up right there.

You called the others and followed suit, leaving the hotel parking lot by 3:46 am.

------

The next 18 hours were long, stressful, and only moderately successful. The team was able to work out an arrangement with the kidnapper before their 24 hours were up. The girl, Heather, was returned to her parents with only a few bruises. But the kidnapper got away, practically goading you all at the ability to remain anonymous. The team was exhausted and out of ideas.

The team drove back to the hotel without a single word exchanged. The kidnapper’s voice rang in your head. He was so confident, arrogant even. There was almost never a moment where he fumbled over his words or cracked. His ruse lasted for hours. But he got sloppy in the end, fessing up to her location just enough for Garcia to triangulate. But something wasn’t adding up to you: his willingness to run instead of killing her when he had the chance.

Hotch spoke up, stirring you from your ruminations. “We need to start from scratch. Reid, give us a rundown on what, where, and why.”

“Well, we know his victims are all young women now ranging from 16 to 23. They come from middle to upper-class families. He sends messages to the families always demanding ransom within 24 hours. Three women have been killed, and now two have survived. The strange part is whether or not he stays truthful to his word. The parents have always given him what he wants, but then it’s up to his discretion whether he follows through.”

“Based on these girls,” Prentiss interjected, “this guy’s intelligent. He prides himself on the ability to get away with this.”

“That’s good,” Hotch said, eyes still on the road. “But why work with us sometimes and not others?

The SUV hummed as its passengers sat in silence.

You decided to speak up. “Prentiss said he prides himself on the ability to get away with this, right?” Everyone sat still, expectant for you to continue. “We’re looking at this the wrong way. This isn’t a sadist who gets off on killing. This isn’t a psychopath with a compulsion. This is a narcissistic sociopath who has been evading capture for weeks now. This is a game to him. It’s a game he knows he can win.”

“Which is why when he’s pressured, he releases the girl.” Hotch nodded along.

“He can take a loss where he can because, to him, the ultimate win is to not get caught,” Reid agreed.

“Great work,” Hotch said, parking the car. “You guys head in and get some good sleep. I’ll fill in the other van. Be ready for a big day of planning.”

You walked up with Reid and Prentiss, a small smile refusing to leave your lips. You cracked it, you thought to yourself.

Your two teammates teased each other up to the rooms, you following close behind. You weren’t the type to inject yourself into other people’s conversations, which ended up making it hard to connect with them. It was as if you had been adopted into a family that has known each other their whole lives. You were respected, sure, so there was no need to complain. You just wished that you could make jokes with them and have the levity they had during intense cases like this.

Still, even hearing your teammates laugh was enough for you tonight. You longed for a moment longer, but they said their goodnights and headed off.

You entered your room, much more relaxed than the night before. You had yourself all worked up, and for what? You gathered your things and headed to the shower, sure that Hotch wasn’t far behind and would call his son again.

As you exited the bathroom, Hotch entered the room. You jumped despite yourself.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.

“It’s ok,” was all you said in response. You returned your things to your bag and slid into bed. You turned on the lamp and began reading while Hotch took his turn in the shower.

You were still reading when he returned, the book more interesting now than it was the night before. You glanced up only for a moment. Hotch wore striped pajama pants tonight, contrasted to the boxers you accidentally noticed earlier that morning. You looked back at your book but couldn’t read it. Your mind wandered to the message Hotch could be sending. Maybe your shorts were inappropriate. Maybe you weren’t meant to see his boxer shorts at all. Maybe he was just cold.

“Good work today,” Hotch said, interrupting your thoughts.

You smiled up at him. “It was a team effort.”

“We may have never come to the conclusion you did. Take the compliment.” Hotch’s lips raised to a subtle smirk, something you’ve only seen a handful of times and certainly never directed toward you.

“Yes, sir,” you said. “Thank you.” You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Your eyes drifted back to your book.

“What’s your book about?”

Was Hotch trying to make conversation with you? True, it wasn’t as late as yesterday’s arrival, but in all of your months of working for the BAU, any discussion with the team had been strictly professional. Still, you blushed at the question.

“It’s a romance,” you confessed.

“I have to say,” Hotch began, “I’ve never read a romance novel. What about it appeals to you?”

You thought for a moment. “I guess it’s the suspension of disbelief. The relief to enter a reality where people love in big, romantic ways. Don’t you ever want to get swept off your feet?”

You cringed at the question, debating on whether it was appropriate to ask your superior about romance.

“I think I’d rather do the sweeping,” Hotch said thoughtfully.

You smiled at his words.

“You don’t think people love in romantic ways in this reality?” Hotch asked, looking up at the ceiling. His breaths were calm, and his face seemed to soften from serious to curious.

“I don’t know,” you said sincerely. “My sister is about to marry a real stand-up guy. He’s caring and has a good family who loves her, too. It’s one of those one-and-done fairy tale deals. Like truly made for each other. But I wouldn’t say that’s the norm. It’s not my norm, at least. So, yeah, I guess you could say I’m skeptical.”

You crossed your legs and fiddled with your thumbs. You tried not to reflect on your history, tried not to give any clue to your boss of your true beliefs. It didn’t ultimately matter to the conversation, anyway. The silence stewed as it stirred up new thoughts and old patterns, feeling yourself shut down the conversation. You didn’t mean to. You hated being seen as the one that was boring outside of work. The one that wasn’t friendly enough to get to know.

“I’m sure you don’t know,” Hotch began again, shaking you from your anxious thoughts, “but bringing up your sister reminded me that I met your dad a few years ago.”

You shot up. “You know about him?” You covered your face with your hands.

“He was nationally awarded for his work in counterterrorism. Of course, I know about him.” He laughed softly, a sound you weren’t used to but would never complain to hear it again. “I met him on a job in Bakersfield. He knew the town like the back of his hand. Is he why you joined?”

“In a roundabout way,” you sighed.

“He brought up his girls every chance he could.” Hotch smiled and turned to face you. “One was a soccer star in South Carolina on track to be a doctor. One was a track star a semester away from graduating with honors and applying to Physician Assistant programs, I believe.”

“My sisters are overachievers,” you said.

“Then it’s you he talked about the most. The musician, the future psychologist, the one who found fascination with the minute details of life.”

“My dad said all that?”

“He did. He had offered us beers when it was all over, and he shared photos of you all. You’re certainly much more grown now.” He chuckled.

Your cheeks flushed red at the comment.

“I showed him Jack playing tee-ball, and we both shared some stories before it was time to go. He had some great advice to give.”

“I’m sure he did,” you mumbled. “Sir, I don’t want you to think I got in because of him. He didn’t know until I made it to Quantico. I mean, yes, he always pushed the army and West Point like him, but I did this all on my own, Mr. Hotchner, I swear.”

“Hotch is fine,” he gently corrected. “I’m not worried about where you came from. I knew the entire time. But your qualifications are what got you on the team, not your father. Keep up the good work, and I’ll continue to remember that.”

“Yes, sir.” You thought to yourself for a moment. The candor of the conversation may have added to your bravery in this moment. “Hotch?”

He raised his eyebrows to imply he was listening.

“Umm, Is there anything that I can do to, like… never mind. I’m about to sound pathetic.” You huffed back down into your pillow. You couldn’t believe you were about to ask Hotch how to make friends.

“They’ll warm up to you, just like you’ll warm up to them. Just keep doing what you’re doing, and I’m sure they’ll see you for who you are.”

You sighed again. Of course, he knew what you were stressing about. He’s the chief profiler after all.

“I’ll let you read now,” Hotch said, getting up from bed. “I’m going to call Jack.”

You gave a small smile and nodded, and he left the room.

------

You woke up the next morning to Hotch returning to the room, two disposable coffee cups and a case file in his hands.

You jerked up from bed. “Am I late?” you asked, scared you slept through the alarm.

“No, no,” he said, walking over to you. “I’m early. Coffee?”

He held out one of the cups to you. You gently accepted.

“Thank you.” You looked over at the clock. 5:54. You rubbed your eyes. “Are you always up this early?”

“On the job, yes,” he said with no inflection. “Much to think about, and much to be done.” He sat back on his bed and reviewed the file you knew he had reviewed countless times. If he was anything like you, he was searching for some hidden puzzle piece, something that the team must have missed to solve the case once and for all. But it was never that easy. Still, maybe some fresh eyes could help.

You slid out of your bed and rested on top of his. “Can I help?”

“Be my guest.” He shifted the file your way for a better vantage point. You crossed your legs and sipped your coffee before getting to work.

You found yourself lost in thought, jotting down those thoughts in the margins. It helped to visualize your connections, even drawing physical lines to connect them. You noticed that the most recent girl didn’t fit the age range of the others, 19-23. You dug deeper, making a note to ask Garcia to run the connection between all of these girls. College? you wrote. There was a college campus within ten minutes of the hotel. One more thing struck you. All of the victims had their hair up in a high ponytail. You weren’t sure how that was associated yet, but you wrote beside each of the photos anyway.

As the early sun began to rise, you grew brutally aware of Hotch’s presence. His body leaned closer to yours, and you felt his eyes sear into your skin. You grew distracted, your mind wandering to the fact that you were wearing only a loose shirt and small shorts in Hotch’s bed. Was he noticing the same thing? Was this a breach of professionalism? Were you making him uncomfortable? Against all your will, you felt your body temperature rise in the form of a blush.

The alarm clock rang out, pulling both Hotch and your attention. You stretched over to turn it off.

“I’ll let you get ready,” Hotch said, jumping out of bed. He headed to the door, refusing to meet your gaze. “Meet me downstairs?”

“Yes, sir,” you said, slightly surprised by the questioning tone of your superior. He nodded and left the room before another word could be spoken.

-------

In the conference room of the local police station sat the team, all watching Hotch interact with the captain of the squad through the glass. You stayed facing the table with your head low. You couldn’t help the bounce of your leg. While the others inferred the conversation outside, your mind had fixated on the morning’s events. The heat of your boss’s breath had tattooed your skin, a branding to the back of your neck. The intimacy, the closeness, and then the flustered nature Hotch left in replayed in your mind. You couldn’t look at him until you could properly collect yourself.

“What’s on your mind, kiddo?” Morgan asked. Your head shot up. All eyes were on you now. You failed to hide the rouging in your cheeks.

“Nothing.” You shrugged, though you knew the contradiction in your body language.

JJ chuckled. “Nothing? You’re so tense, so distracted.”

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, huh?” Morgan asked again, a smile growing on his face. “Hotch keeping you up all night?”

You flinched at his name. You couldn’t help it, but you outed yourself all the same.

“No, I slept fine. I swear.”

“You flinched!” Prentiss laughed and pointed. “It is about Hotch, isn’t it?”

“Leave the poor girl alone,” Rossi said, not bothering to look up from his newspaper.

“Hon, you better tell us what happened in the next three seconds.” Derek swatted at Spencer’s chest. “Reid, help us out, here.”

“Based on the months we’ve known her, she tends to—”

“Don’t you start profiling me, Reid.” You glared at Spencer across the table.

His arms shot up in the air as if to surrender, but a smirk remained on his face. “All I’m saying is that I know the physical signs of a crush when I see one.”

Your jaw dropped. The conference room filled with laughter.

“Leave her alone!” Garcia yelled from behind you. “She’s our sensitive little one!”

“I’m not 5,” you mumbled, crossing your arms. Penelope hugged you from behind as if to protect you from the others. The others continued to laugh, causing you to smile despite yourself. Morgan took a photo of you and Garcia, and warmth spread through you. Even with all the teasing, being here with the team felt good.

Just then Hotch rushed through the door. “Alright, let’s be seated and get to work. We have a big day ahead of us.” Garcia took her seat, but Hotch stayed standing, opting to position himself in front of the whiteboard. “After speaking with the captain and going through the case file with Y/N this morning, I determined our best attack on the situation. Though, it is rather unorthodox.”

The rest of the team stayed silent, waiting for the punchline. Hotch continued. “What do we know about our killer better than anything? His victimology. We know that he goes after girls and young women aged 16-23. They are middle to upper-class, and not the type to find themselves in trouble. Now, who do we all know who fits this very description?”

“Y/N,” Reid said.

All eyes returned to you, this time with a seriousness looming in the air.

“If we don’t want any other kidnappings, we need to give him what he wants. Going after the 16-year-old was off for him. He’s devolving. Which means we need to act fast before he kills again. This is the only way we can approach this head-on.”

“Hotch,” Emily began, “with all due respect, let me take this on. Or JJ. JJ has experience.”

“With his victimology going as low as 16 now, it should be someone who looks the part,” Reid replied.

“She’s just a kid, Hotch.” Morgan reached his hand toward your shoulder, but you gently nudged it away.

“But I’m not a kid at all,” you spoke up. “I have two degrees and the same job as the rest of you. I know I’m young and look younger, but I’m qualified. If my appearance can be used to put this guy away, then let me help. Let me do my job.” You looked up at Hotch, a sudden confidence flowing through your veins. “What do you need me to do?”

-------

For the rest of the day, the team helped you prepare for your role as a 22-year-old college student. The team strategized and planned, desperate to ensure your safety. Everyone added their two cents, but you were happy to receive all the insight you were given. You weren’t going to screw this up for them.

You, Hotch, Prentiss, and Morgan returned to the hotel to pick among your belongings to dress the part. Rossi, Reid, and JJ stayed behind with Garcia to set up intel at the station.

“The shorts you wore to bed,” Hotch began, “go put those on while we find a sweatshirt or jacket. In fact, wear the shirt you wore, too. The size could conceal the mic better.”

You nodded and grabbed your things before heading into the bathroom. It was not lost on you that your boss was thoroughly aware of your pajama situation, but due to the pivotal role you were to perform, it was easier to focus on the task at hand.

You returned from the bathroom where Emily greeted you with the mic. You lifted your arms, allowing Emily to snake the mic underneath your shirt, securing it to your sternum with sports tape. While doing so, Hotch and Morgan returned with a single sweatshirt in Morgan’s hand. It was grungy and old, not quite the goal aesthetic.

Still, Morgan handed it to you to try on. The three profilers evaluated your look.

“This isn’t gonna work,” Morgan said. Prentiss pinched her eyebrows together in dismay. Hotch stayed staring.

“Take off the sweatshirt,” Hotch ordered. “I think I have something better.”

You did as he said while he rummaged through his duffle bag. He pulled out a quarter zip of excellent quality, something he only wears on a successful plane ride home.

“Put it on.”

You didn’t hesitate to follow his instructions. It was a large fit, hanging just above the hem of your shorts and the sleeves landing at your fingertips. The three of them looked at you, then to their reference photos, then back at you. Something was missing.

“Call Reid. Maybe he can find any other similarity we’re missing,” Hotch said.

“No, I got it.” You remembered the notes you made earlier that morning. You took the hair tie from your wrist and pulled your hair up into a high ponytail. “Now, what do you think?”

“That’s it,” Morgan said.

“And just in time,” Emily noted, “We gotta get you to the college fast.”

On the ride to the school, Hotch reiterated the goals in place.

“All you need to do is walk across campus using the roads. Keep to yourself, and most importantly, do not—and I mean it—do NOT, get into the vehicle under any circumstances. Stall him, flirt with him, do anything you can to keep him in place. We’ll be right there. Got it?”

“Yes, sir. I got it.”

“We’re counting on you.”

“Good luck.” Prentiss smiled with seriousness behind her eyes.

Morgan grabbed your shoulder, turning you around. “Be smart, kiddo.”

You returned a small smile and left the van to venture on your walk.

------

You had to have walked the streets for at least an hour. The campus was massive, larger than any school you attended. You did as you were told and kept to yourself. The sun had long since set, so there was no warmth to guard you from the biting breeze. A car or two passed periodically, but none slowed down beside you. There was a peace in the solitude. One could chalk it up to the calm before the storm, but you weren’t afraid.

Another car passed, but this time it slowed down. Your heart stopped and landed in your throat.

“Excuse me,” the man called out. The voice was unforgettable. The very same voice that threatened to kill the girl over the phone. The voice that replayed in your mind for hours. You knew it was him.

You turned to face him, trying to commit every detail to memory. He was a conventionally attractive man with lighter hair and a smile that you would have swooned over under any other circumstance. He wore a white polo and jeans and drove a two-door black convertible with the top down.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m looking for a party my buddy’s throwing, but I don’t go here.”

“I’ll say you don’t,” you chuckled as you walked closer. “Your car must cost my tuition!”

The man grinned. “You like? I could take you for a spin. But I’ll have you know; I like to go fast.”

“Mmmm, top-down, wind in my hair,”—you inched closer still, to feign some sort of interest— “but don’t you have a party you’re missing?”

“Well, if you show me where to go, maybe I’ll consider you my plus one.” He winked.

“Now, do I look like the partying type to you?” You laughed and rested your arms on his car door.

Without another word, he grabbed you by the upper arms and pulled you into the driver’s seat. You screamed at the top of your lungs. You tried to fight him from your disadvantaged position, but he was stronger, quicker. He forced you into the passenger seat as he wailed punch after punch into your jaw.

“Nice. Girls. Don’t. Scream!” he yelled. He punctuated his words with one final blow to the head. And as you drifted out of consciousness, you weren’t sure if the roof was closing above you or if the sky was turning black.

------

The sound of fireworks stirred you from your unconsciousness. Lights of reds and blues lit the night sky. You smiled at the serenity of the celebration. You didn’t want to go, but the strong hands beneath you lifted you away. You were much too tired to argue, his heartbeat lulling you to sleep. The faint words “stay with me” echoed in your mind, and if staying meant remaining in the comfort of the person who held you, you’d be content to stay there forever.

------

You woke up to blinding white lights. This must be heaven you assumed. You blinked through the searing lights and realized it wasn’t heaven at all. You were in a hospital. The sheets, the gown, the blinking monitors, and a small TV playing all clouded your senses. You reached up to rub your head, but someone was holding your hand.

Hotch moved with you, stirring him out of his strained slumber. He had pulled a chair to your bed, his head resting next to your knee. He lifted his head and looked up at you, an urgency deep within his eyes.

“How are you feeling?” He didn’t let go of your hand.

“I—uhhh—Hotch, what’s goin’ on?” You found your breathing quickening at the sound of your slurred speech, the confusion becoming too much to handle.

“You’re ok. You’re gonna be ok. The doctor said they want to keep you overnight, but the team’s on their way.”

“No, no.” You pulled your hand away. “They can’t see me like this. You can’t see me like this! I’m not put together. I—I feel like I'm gonna be sick. I can’t feel my arms. Are my hands shaking? I'm freaking out. I'm freaking out!”

Hotch all but jumped at your ramblings, his eyebrows raised in shock. Before he could answer you burst into tears.

“Hotch, I’m gonna be sick,” you said through your convulsions.

Hotch jumped up in search of a bucket. He grabbed the trashcan at the corner of the room and brought it to you just in time. Tears streamed down your face as you threw up into the trashcan. Hotch held your hair back and gently rubbed your back.

Your nausea subsided, but your panic remained. Hotch sat on the bed, pulling you into his chest. You gripped him with all your might, desperate for the shakes to go away.

“You're alright. You're safe, ok? I think the medicine is messing with you a little. Take some deep breaths for me. I need you to relax, ok?”

You tried to take breaths at the pace Hotch set. Hotch’s hand combed through your hair as he tried to soothe you. Eventually, you were able to cool off. Hotch gently rested you back on your pillow. “Why don’t we go back to sleep for a little, ok? I think you’ll feel better when you wake up.”

You nodded, your face still wet from the tears. You repositioned yourself and fell asleep within moments.

When you woke up again, your mind was your own. Your head was pounding, and your body ached. You allowed yourself to adjust to your environment before searching for Hotch. There he sat by your bed, talking to a nurse. You cleared your throat effortfully. Hotch stood and approached you.

“How are you?”

“Everything hurts.”

“They’re giving you ibuprofen now. It seems like you were reacting to the morphine poorly.”

“That’s embarrassing.”

“Not at all,” Hotch said seriously. “Do you remember what I told you? That they want to keep you overnight?”

“That does ring a bell,” you said as you rubbed your head. “Is the team here?”

“They are. I told them to wait outside until you were ready.”

“Oh, ok.” You thought for a moment. “Hotch?”

“Yes?”

“Can—Can you tell me what happened? Like, did we win? Is everyone ok?”

Hotch chuckled, but his eyes appeared sad. “Everyone is fine. We got him. Are you sure you want to talk about this now? Why don’t we wait until you—”

“Hotch. Please.”

Hotch sighed and took a moment to think. “Well, we knew we were looking for an expensive convertible thanks to you.” He smiled. “So, we began our search as you spoke. But then, we all heard you scream.”

You flinched at the word, your memory of the gruesome event beginning to reassemble.

“Of course, it was full speed at that point. He had you, and we weren’t going to lose you. We cornered him on a dead-end road just outside of campus. We didn’t let him get far. Prentiss shot out one of his tires, so he started running. Prentiss and Morgan ran for him, and I ran to you.”

He paused. He looked away as his bottom lip trembled. He took a deep breath in as he settled into his natural professionalism again.

“We had EMT on standby, so we were able to get here quickly.”

You nodded, realizing it was Hotch who carried you out. The fireworks, the lights, the “stay with me”, the reality of it all crashed in on you in the form of a shudder.

“It was you?” you asked.

Hotch knit his eyebrows together and tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“You pulled me out. I felt you. I think I heard you.”

“Someone had to make sure you were ok.”

The fact that it was Hotch warmed your heart. Still, a question lingered in your mind. “Is he still alive?”

Hotch shook his head no.

“Mm,” was all you could say in response. There was no room for emotion. No time to process an opinion. You were just glad it was over. “What time is it?”

Hotch checked his watch. “It’s 2:43.”

“In the morning? Sir, with all good intentions, go to bed. Go tell the team to—”

Just behind Hotch, you caught a glimpse of Spencer in the doorway. “Is now a good time?” he asked.

You smiled and nodded. Spencer peeked his head back out and in a loud whisper said, “It’s clear! Go, go, go!”

The rest of the team hustled into the room and crowded around your bed. One by one, greetings and gentle hugs made their rounds, and your smile grew bigger and bigger.

“It’s a party now,” you said, a giggle bubbling out of your throat.

“Oh, she’s got the right idea,” JJ said as she sat close to you on the bed. She carefully moved a strand of hair from your face.

Prentiss laughed. “All we need now is some good music, a dance floor, and some drinks.”

The room filled with a few laughs and overall agreement.

“Too bad you all aren’t even supposed to be here,” Hotch said, slightly scolding the team. “It’s probably time for you all to call it a night.”

“Aw, Hotch, just a few minutes?” Garcia asked.

“We’ll be quiet!” Reid said.

Everyone looked at Hotch expectantly. You looked around at your teammates. They all were begging for a couple more minutes with you. That alone allowed your pain to subside.

Hotch sighed. “Just a couple more minutes.” A small smile formed on his face.

Everyone crowded around the bed, content murmurs and chatter filling the room again.

“Now be honest, guys. How bad do I look?” You shot them all a cheesy smile to sell it.

A few of them chuckled at your antics.

“I think you’ll be back to dating in no time,” Prentiss joked. “Guys love a badass scar.”

“Yeah, ’cause she was dating before,” JJ teased as she played with your hair.

“Shut up!” you giggled, coughing a little.

“I’ll get you water.” Hotch shot up and walked off.

“I’ll go with him,” Rossi said, sighing.

A seriousness enveloped the room. Derek was the first to speak up. “You know, you really scared us today, kiddo. Not to get all big brother on you, but it was tough seeing Hotch carrying you like that. Just limp.”

“And imagine how Hotch must have felt,” Reid said.

You looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

Just then Hotch and Rossi returned with your water.

“Drink,” he said, his arm outstretched. You grabbed the water from him, your fingers overlapping his. The memory of his hands shot through your spine. His frantic begging for you to stay with him, much more panicked than you remembered the phrase.

Imagine how Hotch must have felt.

“It’s getting late,” Rossi said.

The rest of the team grumbled and said their goodbyes. Hotch allowed the rest of the team to go, lingering in the room with you.

“If you need me to stay, I’d be happy to do so.”

“You need sleep, sir.”

“I’ll sleep on the plane,” he said as if it was nothing to him. “If you don’t think you’ll need me, I can let you be. We can be here early to pick you up.”

You thought for a moment. You didn’t want him to go, just in case. “Would you be willing to stay?”

“It’s why I offered.”

You felt your lip begin to tremble, the brave face for the rest of the team beginning to fade. “Hotch?”

“What can I do?”

“Well, I just… Can I use your phone? I think my mom should know I’m alright.”

“Of course.” He handed you his phone. “I’ll wait right outside for you.”

When the phone call was finished, Hotch returned and sat down in the chair.

“If you’re going to stay, I at least want you comfortable,” you said.

“The chair is fine,” Hotch said, taking his coat off for the first time today. “Get some sleep.”

You scooted to the side of your bed. “Here. At least sit up here where there’s some cushion.”

He didn’t respond right away. You knew you could convince him.

“I promise I’ll sleep,” you continued. “I’d be up worrying about your discomfort otherwise.”

Hotch sighed and stood up. “Only because I want you to sleep.”

He sat in the space you made for him at your feet. He stretched his legs alongside yours and rested his back against the footboard of the hospital bed.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you curled up on your side. The comfort in knowing that he was there to take care of you was enough to send you off to sleep in minutes.

“Goodnight, Hotch.”

“Goodnight.”

------

You woke up to something you had never seen before. Hotch was asleep at the foot of your bed, resting his head against your shins. A hand was placed just below your knee as if he planned to protect you in his sleep. It was the most peaceful you had ever seen him. He didn’t look cross or serious. He was calm and relaxed. You smiled to yourself. You had to fight the urge to return his touch. You knew the moment he woke up he’d return to his professional senses, and you weren’t quite ready for this moment to be over.

The doctor walked in to check on you, stirring him awake, anyway.

“I’m clearing you. Take these twice a day. Your jaw is going to be sore for a couple weeks, so work up to crunchy and chewy foods. And please, no strenuous activity for at least a full week.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you said, taking the bottle of pills.

“Thank you,” Hotch said. He stood up from your bed as the doctor left. He threw his jacket on and fixed his hair in the window’s reflection.

You sat up and swung your legs off the bed. Hotch spun around and met you at your side.

“How can I help?”

You chuckled. “I think I can stand on my own.”

His eyes shared signs of concern and disbelief. Still, he took a small step back and allowed you to gather your bearings. Standing on your own, you closed the small gap between you. You began to become painstakingly aware of your attire being only a hospital gown and rubber socks.

“You got it?” Hotch asked, his arms out like you were a baby taking your first steps.

“Mmhmm,” you said. “Are my clothes here?”

“Yes, let me grab them for you.” He rushed to the corner of the room where your clothes had been neatly folded, including his sweater. He handed them all to you, his hands brushing against yours. Your heart fluttered in your chest as he stood over you. You looked up at him. His eyes returned your gaze, though you weren’t able to read him. His chest rose and fell as if his breathing was slow and deliberate.

“I’m going to call the team,” Hotch said, his voice low. “Do you—do you need help with anything before I do?”

All you could do was shake your head no on instinct, your eyes not leaving his. He stayed still. His eyes scanned you like he was contemplating something. He backed up carefully and pulled his phone from his coat pocket.

“Wait,” you said.

He froze.

You felt your face redden as you worked up the courage to continue. “Could—could you untie the top for me? My shoulder—”

“You don’t have to explain,” he said softly as he inched forward again. “Turn around.”

You did as you were told. He brushed your hair over your shoulder and began to work on the knot. His calloused fingers feathered your skin. His warm breath betrayed you as chills ran down your spine. He untied the knot, allowing cool air to reach the back of your now-open gown. Hotch turned to leave.

“Be careful,” he said at the door. “If you need me, knock on the glass.”

You nodded.

He closed the door behind him, leaving you alone.

------

The drive from the hospital to the hotel rendered the air stale. Hotch had insisted on helping you out of the hospital and into the car. But he didn’t speak. He drove while you sat in the back seat. Every once in a while, you’d catch him checking on you in the rear-view mirror, only to direct his attention back to the road.

When you returned to the hotel, Hotch stopped you from leaving the car.

“I’ll grab your things. You stay here.”

“I can get my things just fine.”

“Your bag is heavy. Doctor’s orders. No strenuous activity. Stay here.”

You huffed and sat back in your seat as Hotch closed the door for you.

The plane ride was the same: silent. Hotch sat opposite you as if he refused to allow you to leave his sight. But he kept to himself all the same. The others rested or played their card games, but you stayed put, almost waiting for Hotch to make his next move. He didn’t speak the entire flight.

Upon your return, Hotch dismissed the rest of the team.

“Thank you for the hard work this weekend. Rest up, and I will see you all Monday.”

You all headed out to leave, but Hotch stopped you. “Let me take you home,” he said.

You sighed. “Is driving a strenuous task now?”

“It’s late, and I’m not asking,” he said, returning your attitude.

You followed him to his car. He carried both his and your bag and placed them in the backseat before joining you up front.

Again, not a word was spoken between the two of you. You felt your blood boiling beneath your skin. It was as if the trip never happened, as if the distance between you never closed. The babying was the worst of all. You were sure he was seeing you as the rest of the team did now, incapable, fragile, only a child.

Hotch walked you up to your apartment. He waited for you to open your door, placing your bag directly inside.

“Well,” you began, “I guess I’ll see you Monday.”

He stood in your doorway for a moment, something on his mind. “Are you sure you’re ok? Is there anything else you think you may need before I go?”

“Hotch, what is all this?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

You tried to maintain your sanity, but the anger had bubbled into your throat. “All this, this, this coddling! You’re treating me like I’m fragile or, or useless!”

“Do I have to remind you that you were in the hospital this morning?” Hotch asked, aggravation coating his throat.

“I don’t need this from you, too, ok? The rest of them, I can take it, but you were different! I thought you were different.”

Hotch closed the door behind him and crossed his arms. “What are you talking about?”

“Have you not noticed that all of them treat me like I’m a child? Derek literally calls me kiddo, and the girls act like I’m some innocent girl fresh out of high school. Reid and JJ are five years older than me. That’s it! Rossi, forget it. I’m like a grandchild to him at this point. But you, you never belittled me. So, what is this? Did I fail you? I’d rather you just tell me than refuse to speak to me.”

“I – you didn’t fail me. How could you think that?”

“You couldn’t even look at me after the hospital.”

Hotch’s face turned a light shade of pink, his eyes leaving yours for only a moment. “We were successful because of you. But you got hurt. I just want to make sure you’re ok. That’s all.”

You thought for a moment, still not satisfied with his answer. “Then why didn’t you talk to me? I thought we were—I thought maybe there was something—”

“Please,” Hotch interrupted, “don’t say anything you might regret.” He took a step back.

“Are you saying I’m imagining this? That I imagined this morning?”

“No, no, no. We’re not doing this.”

“The coffee, the book put away neatly,”

“I would do that for anyone.”

“What about when you stormed out yesterday? When we were going over the file on your bed.” Your voice started to shake.

“That’s when I—I realized we had to use you.” He looked down, almost ashamed.

Your heart pounded in your chest, fear that you’ve outed yourself and maybe you were more delusional than you thought.

“This morning…” you said.

“You asked for my help, and I helped you. Just like I’m happy to do for you now if you need. Look, it’s late, and you’ve gone through a lot.”

“Then what did Reid mean?”

Hotch looked back up at you. He looked nervous, something you may have never seen in his eyes before. “What do you mean?”

“He said imagine how you must have felt when you found me. What did he mean by that if it doesn’t mean you care about me?”

“Of course, I care about you!” he exclaimed, moving closer to you. “I almost lost you! And when I found you, I thought you were gone. You were lifeless. So, forgive me for wanting to be careful with you, because I refuse to let that happen again. I refuse to lose you again.”

You looked at him in shock.

He sighed. “I shouldn’t have said any of this. Listen, the only reason you’re feeling anything for me is because it’s me you woke up to. Nothing more. If Reid or Morgan found you, the same thing would happen with them.”

“Do not chalk this up to some damsel in distress situation,” you said a little too boldly. “The whole team knows I have a thing for you.”

Now Hotch was in shock. He shook his head. “It’s not me you want.”

“You don’t know what I want.”

“I know you’re desperate for romance in your life because you either don’t make time for it in real life or were burned so bad in the past, that you gave it up entirely.”

“Hotch, don’t you dare profile me right now.”

“I know you have a rocky relationship with men in general, rooted in your relationship with your father.”

“Stop it, now.”

“You refuse to associate with him in any way. You don’t even allow us to call you by your last name. He views you differently from your sisters for some reason, and you hate him for it.”

“Hotch, I swear to god—”

“You mocked him for giving good advice, and you flinched when I brought up getting beers with him. He’s an alcoholic, isn’t he?”

“So, what, honestly? Literally who cares if he drinks? He gets mean, so what? What gives you the right to tell me what I can and cannot have?”

“But he’s not just mean, is he?”

The air in your lungs got caught in your throat.

“That’s it, isn’t it? That’s how he treats you differently.”

“That’s enough,” you said, your voice cold.

Hotch stepped closer, grabbing your shoulders with both hands. You shuddered in his grasp. “You don’t want me, ok? I can’t fix what you’ve gone through. I can’t even protect you at work. Do you know the guilt I feel for what happened to you? I’m the one who got you hurt. And now I have to live with that. What makes you think that I can be what you need if I can’t even keep you safe here?”

You closed what little space was left between you. You looked up at him, your face only inches from his. “Stop telling me what I want. I’m an adult. I can make my own choices. You’re not going to push me away like this.”

Hotch’s breath hitched in his throat. His chest heaved up and down, and his eyes darkened. “This is wrong. I’m your superior. This isn’t appropriate.”

“If you truly don’t want me, I’ll stop. We’ll go back to how things were. But you have to say you don’t want me.”

His grip on your shoulders strengthened, his touch burning into your skin. His now wild eyes scanned you as if he couldn’t have fathomed this happening. A lump formed in your throat as you waited for him to find the words. Instead, he pulled you flush against him and pressed his lips against yours. His kiss was raw and desperate, rougher than your healing jaw could take, but you couldn’t care less. He wrapped his arms around your back and gripped your hair as if it was instinctual. Your breathing hitched, causing you to moan into his mouth.

He pulled away, slightly out of breath. “I need you to tell me this is ok.”

“This is ok,” you said, breathless.

“Good,” Hotch said, “because I don’t want to stop.”

A smirk formed on your face. You grabbed a hold of his tie and pulled him closer to you. “Then I think you need to take this off.”

You dropped the tie and kissed him as he took his coat off. Your mouth wandered to his jaw. Hotch let out a groan.

“Your room. Now.”

His words sent chills down your spine. You took his hand and led him to your room. You turned around and watched Hotch remove his tie, sliding it through his collar. His eyes stayed on yours, his already dark eyes now almost black with desire. The moment his tie came off, he was back on you, kissing you like his life depended on it. His hands wandered to your ass and lifted you up, his lips never leaving your skin. You wrapped your legs around him as he carried you to your bed.

Hotch laid you down, now hovering over you. His lips drifted from yours down to your neck.

“Seeing you in this had me thinking horrible things,” Hotch confessed, slightly pulling on the quarter zip you were still wearing.

You blushed. “Really?” you asked, a smug smile growing on your face. “Is that why you were avoiding me?”

“Was it really that obvious?” Hotch asked, his large hands finding their way under your shirt.

You couldn’t even answer as his hands ventured up to your chest. His hands pulled a moan from your mouth.

“Take this off,” Hotch said as he pulled the hem of your shirt.

“You, first.”

Hotch’s eyebrows raised as if surprised by your reply. He sat up and unbuttoned his shirt. You practically drooled at the sight of him shirtless. You could only assume he was fit when he rolled up his sleeves or manhandled unsubs, but this was all the confirmation you needed.

“Your turn,” he said.

You did as you were told, revealing yourself to him.

“God, you’re perfect,” he sighed as he kissed your chest.

You fought off a moan. You couldn’t believe this was happening. This was only something you pictured in your wildest dreams, and here he was in the flesh.

“I wanted this for so long,” you found yourself saying out loud.

“Me, too,” he agreed. “You have no idea how much I thought about this.”

Your cheeks flushed red. He began leaving marks past your breasts, down your stomach to the hem of your shorts.

“Can I take these off?” Hotch asked.

You nodded.

“Use your words, honey.”

Your stomach did a flip hearing the phrase. “Yes, sir. Take them off.”

He all but growled in response. He pulled at your shorts, taking them off in a swift motion.

“So much for no strenuous activities,” you joked.

“I can be gentle,” Hotch said as he settled in between your legs. “Let me take care of you.”

Your head fell back onto your pillow. You knew you were in for it.

Hotch spread your legs apart, the stretch enough for you to arch into his touch.

A smirk graced his lips, and without another word, he licked into your core. His mouth against you was like a gift from God, something you had only hoped could feel so good. You couldn’t help but squirm against him, grabbing his hair to pull him closer, if at all possible. He placed a hand on your stomach to keep you still. You could feel him smile against you, turning you on even more.

“Hotch,” you breathed out. You were close faster than you had ever been.

“Say my name,” he said as he placed a finger inside you.

“A-Aaron,” you choked out, the new sensation too much to handle. He filled you with another finger, his hitting the spot your fingers never could.

“Fuck, Aaron, don’t stop. Please.” Your breathing quickened, and as he pumped his fingers in and out, you felt the coil in your stomach snap, expletives and his name leaving your lips. Hotch continued to pump you as you rode your high, a daze overtaking you.

When you caught your breath, you pulled Hotch back up for a kiss, your hands finding their way to his belt.

Hotch’s hands stopped yours. You looked up at him, confused.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asked, genuine concern lacing his voice.

“I want this if you do. Do you?” you asked.

“I really do,” he said. “I need to feel you.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. “Then please let me help you.”

He released your hands and kissed your forehead as you unbuckled his belt. The moment felt ironically wholesome until you pulled at his dress pants. You couldn’t help but gawk at his cock springing free. You were suddenly nervous, not quite sure it would fit after all this time practically revirginizing. If your jaw weren’t so sore, you’d have him in your mouth without a second thought.

“I’ll be gentle, I promise,” he said as if he could hear your thoughts. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Hotch hovered over you and kissed your lips softly. You returned the kiss and nodded.

Hotch lined himself up with your entrance and carefully pushed in. He and you both groaned at the sensation, the stretch of him filling you something you hadn’t experienced in years.

“Jesus Christ. You’re so, this isn’t your first time, is it?”

“No, no,” you said, slightly embarrassed. “It’s just been a while. Just, just go slow, ok?”

Hotch nodded and started to move. He rested his forehead on yours, sighs and pants escaping both of your lips.

“Can I kiss you?” Hotch asked.

You chuckled at his question. “We’re a little past that, aren’t we?”

Hotch smiled as he placed his lips on yours, much more tender than before. He moved a stray hair from your face and cupped your cheek with the utmost gentility. The urgency was gone, replaced by something deeper. Everything had culminated to this moment, and neither of you wanted to waste it.

Still, the need for more overtook you. “Aaron,” you said, your hips bucking up into his.

“What do you need? I need you to tell me.”

“Faster, please,” you said.

His pace quickened, one hand still around you. He used the other to stabilize himself, allowing you to view the tension in his muscles. You bit back a moan as the pressure inside you built.

“Don’t hold back,” Hotch said. “Let me hear you.”

He slammed into you, a smirk growing on his face as your breath caught in your throat.

“Just like that!” you blurted out.

He did just that, slamming into you again and again.

“Fuck. I don’t know how much longer I can last,” Hotch said, his voice almost shaking.

“I’m close, too. Please don’t stop,” you begged.

He pounded into you harder and faster, no longer a rhythm but a motive, a goal to achieve.

“Come for me, honey. I’ve got you. Just come for me.”

You clenched around him as you came, all but screaming his name. His pace didn’t let up as you rode your orgasm, your legs trembling around him.

“Oh, god. I’m gonna, where do I—”

“Chest!”

He pulled out and came on your chest, making the most attractive groans you had ever heard in your life. You watched in awe, absolute shock overtaking you. Never in your wildest dreams did you picture this. And for the love of god, you hoped this wasn’t the last time this happened.

Hotch crawled over you, still catching his breath, and captured your lips in a kiss.

“How are you feeling?” Hotch asked. “Is your head ok?”

“I’m good,” you said smiling at his return to his overprotective self. “I’m really good. I promise.”

Hotch rested his forehead on yours then kissed you, the tenderness returning.

“I like when you do that,” you said, your cheeks reddening.

“Me, too,” he said. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“You don’t have to help, if you don’t want to.”

“What, and miss showering with you?” Hotch smiled. “Just lead the way.”

In the shower, the two of you washed up, and you couldn’t knock the smile from your face if you tried, until you thought about showing up to work Monday morning.

“What are you thinking about?” Hotch asked.

“The team’s gonna know,” you said.

Hotch thought for a moment. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. For now, well, I wouldn’t have done it in this order, but would you like to join me for dinner tomorrow evening?”

You blushed, despite the state you were both in. “Are you asking me on a date?”

Hotch smiled. “I’m asking you on a date, yes. I have to be honest, though, I’m out of practice.”

“If tonight was you out of practice, I think tomorrow will go just fine.”

Hotch laughed and kissed you again, something you hoped would never fade in your memory.

************

ForeversTaglist:

@lizziedizzie3 @heavennleeee-blog @hunterswearingplaid @thisismysecrethappyplace @geekinator9 @ronnie248-blog @oliolioxiclean @phonegalhelp @because-you-never-know-when @roonyxx @keithseabrook27 @ericaprice2008 @heythereamigodude

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #bau team #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner fluff

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ddaeng-angmoh · 2 years ago

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GGGUTVUTV THIS IS THE CUTEST EVEEEER! Gosh, I was not expecting all this fluff. So wholesome and just amazing. The writing, fantastic, the characters, adorable, the synergy, explosive. I just- I need more of this in my life 😭😭😭

Trip || KTH

(banner by @/itaeewon)

Trip || a KTH one-shot by daechwitatamic (masterlist)

Pairing: KTH x female reader, JJK x OC, JHS x OC

Genre: f2l, fluff, camping!au

WC: 22k

Rating: M - minors DNI

Summary: Your gigantic crush on Kim Taehyung is so bad that you drop whatever you’re holding every time he speaks to you. Your dirty liar of a best friend SWORE to you he wouldn’t be on this camping trip, but he is. Luckily, the trip gives Taehyung the chance to see you in a new light, admittedly with some help from his best friend (and definitely hired spy) Park Jimin.

Warnings: socially awkward oc, introverted oc, a few injuries including a bad sprain and a deep cut that will require stitches – some scenes of basic first aid as these are handled and there is blood involved, cursing, drinking, kissing, groping, breast play, like two seconds of grinding, a disgusting amount of soft affectionate feelings

Notes: This is for @/thebtswritersclub Summer Project, for the “camping/hiking” prompt. I hope y’all enjoy! Thank you to the Mods who organized the event!

Huge thank you to @/kookstempo for beta-ing, for helping me choose snippets, and for dealing with my bible-book summary process. Another thank you to @/cherrysoulth for the beta job, much appreciated!

I did, in fact, steal the Douchebag Jar from The New Girl, so if you work for them, don’t sue me, just enjoy the kpop fanfiction that I make zero dollars from. I also stole “chaos gremlin” specifically as a direct description of Park Jimin from @/m-yg93, so, hey, thanks for the apt description.

“Hey, so… I know last week I said he wasn’t… but apparently, Taehyung is coming on this trip.”

You almost drive off the highway.

After you correct your car - the back seat of which is laden with backpacks, coolers, tents, camping chairs, and other gear – you shoot your best friend a look. She smiles at you sheepishly from the passenger seat. There are lakes as far as you can see on either side of the highway, water glinting silver under a mid-afternoon sun, the highway slicing between them like a snake through a puddle.

“How long have you known that?” you ask her suspiciously. You wouldn’t be surprised if she’d known the whole time and had just lied to you when she first asked you to attend a camping trip with her boyfriend and his friends. She knew you wouldn’t have agreed if you knew Taehyung would be there.

He makes you too nervous. You just can’t enjoy yourself when he’s at events. And honestly, you’d thought a camping trip would be safe. Taehyung’s charming and really fucking hot, but he seems a bit pampered to you. You can’t really imagine him roughing it.

Not that you’re all really roughing it – the campsite is the kind with bathrooms you can walk to that have showers and real toilets, even though you have to walk a bit to get to them.

“I just found out this morning,” she tells you earnestly. “I promise. I know that you’re doing me a favor by coming along – I promise I wouldn’t do anything to make this suck for you. Not on purpose.”

It’s true. Delia’s only been dating Jungkook for about four months. Lately, they’ve been getting a lot more serious, but there’s still a lot of firsts that they’re going through, and going away together (with his group of friends, no less) is definitely a first. She’d begged you to come for moral support, even though you – like Taehyung – are pampered. The flushing toilets had been one of your conditions. This is also why she’s in your car keeping you company instead of in the car with Jungkook, even though you know Hoseok is bringing his girlfriend and they are most definitely sharing a car.

You resist the urge to press your head to the top of the steering wheel in distress.

“Del,” you say, and stop. You don’t even know where the rest of the sentence wants to go. Your stomach is churning.

Delia presses her lips together, giving you a deeply sympathetic look. She knows well that you’ve been crushing on Taehyung since the first time you met him – the same night Delia and Jungkook hooked up for the first time.

She also knows it’s a crush that renders you stupid – suddenly clumsy, unable to form full thoughts or coherent sentences, all logic leaving your body with the air from your lungs every time he smiles anywhere near your vicinity.

(“Girl, stop tripping,” she’d tell you. “He’s a nice, normal guy! You need to get it together!”)

It’s bad.

She’s told you before she’s never seen you like this, and you always tell her it’s because you’ve never been like this. And you’ve never even been alone with him, never had a serious conversation. Your inability to be normal around him is literally just from what you’ve observed about him in group settings. Imagine if you actually had, like, depth in your conversations? You’d have to board the nearest rocket to the damn moon.

It's so embarrassing.

But as beautiful as Taehyung is – as effortlessly charming, and secretly clever, and slyly funny – he’s also unattainable. Or, at least, it feels that way when you join Delia to hang out with Jungkook’s crew. Taehyung’s never been unkind to you – in fact, he never acts aloof. He’s friendly and welcoming – they all have been, every time. But there’s something about him that makes you think he’s hard to really know, like there are parts of himself that he keeps close. You also can’t help but feel like he must be out of your league with a face like that; not that you’re insecure – you’re not – it’s just that he’s hotter than almost everybody on the planet.

You also know – from Delia, who heard from Jungkook, who heard from Jimin – that he went through a pretty rough breakup about three months ago.

Anyway. It doesn’t matter. He’s cool, and beautiful, and you… can barely even function as yourself when he’s around. It just doesn’t make sense to pursue it. You’ve tried to avoid joining Delia to hang out with the guys if you know he’ll be there, preferring to hang out with Delia and Jungkook when they’re with Jimin, or Seokjin.

It just feels simpler that way.

“It’ll be okay,” Delia tells you, tapping her phone against the top of her leg. “It’s a big group going, he’ll be easy to avoid.”

You do your best to level a stare at her without taking your eyes completely off the road.

“Del,” you say flatly. “We’re spending three nights in the woods together. There is nothing to do but sit around and talk to each other. You know what’s going to happen. I’m going to look fucking stupid the whole time.”

“You won’t,” she says, flapping a hand, like she herself hasn’t witnessed you absolutely malfunction in Taehyung’s presence several times.

“Don’t lie to me,” you grumble, looking back at the road ahead of you.

She pats your leg amicably, and you spend some time in companionable quiet as the dark forests rush by outside the car’s windows.

It’s late afternoon when you arrive, pulling up to the little wooden booth where you check in. The girl inside, in a khaki uniform, goes over the campground’s rules and directs you to the two adjoined campsites that the boys had booked online.

It’s clear that you’re the last to arrive. Three cars are parked at the sites, and there’s already two tents erected.

As you park, Jungkook makes his way over, waiting to greet Delia with an arm around her shoulders and a press of lips to the top of her head. She beams, glows, all that shit. You busy yourself by starting to unpack the trunk and the backseat, starting with the cooler.

“Let me help with that,” says a deep voice behind you, and you drop the end of the cooler you had been pulling out of the car. It starts to slip to the ground, and you scramble to catch it. A second pair of hands steadies it with you, veins prominent.

“Thanks you. I mean, thank you. Thanks. Sorry,” you mutter, your words tripping over one another, your eyes on the ground. On the other side of the car, Delia is literally covering her face with her hand, shaking her head. You feel like your face is on fire.

Jungkook comes around the car to rescue you from yourself, taking one handle of the cooler and helping Taehyung carry it over to the picnic table where the food will be stored.

“Jesus,” Delia says, materializing next to you.

“I’m going home,” you deadpan. You feel shell-shocked, you can’t even process what a disaster you are. You didn’t even make it twenty seconds without embarrassing yourself.

She rubs the top of your back bracingly, as if you tell you to buck up. Face still flaming, you work on untangling the tent from the camping chairs, carrying it over to the empty spot.

“We have one more tent to go up there,” Jungkook calls to you. “We’re putting two tents on each campsite.”

“Okay,” you tell him. “I wasn’t going to set it up yet, so we can figure it out.”

The boys start working on the last two tents while you and Delia finish emptying out your car. The third girl in attendance, Hoseok’s girlfriend, wanders over and introduces herself as Suz, and offers to help organize everything as you unload chairs and food, beer and bug spray.

Between the seven guys, it doesn’t take long to set up the two remaining tents, spacing them evenly across the campsite so that all four tents make a horseshoe around the fire and the picnic tables. You and Delia start setting up the camping chairs around the fire. At the picnic table, Yoongi’s opened the first case of beer. His can opens with a hiss, and you watch several heads turn in that direction.

“Yes,” Jungkook says, already moving to grab two.

“Great decision making,” Jimin praises, hopping over a cooler as he makes his way over.

“As expected of our appointed Campsite Leader,” Taehyung says, but you notice that he doesn’t go for a beer. He already has a plastic cup in his hand; you wonder if he’s not a beer guy.

“I deeply do not want to be Campsite Leader,” Yoongi protests after taking a swig of his beer. “Make Joon do it.”

“Joon?” The three youngest guys speak almost in unison. The tall man in question flushes, laughing a little with self-deprecation.

“I think you misunderstand,” Jimin says, pulling the tab on his own can. “We’re trying not to die this weekend.”

Hoseok’s girlfriend, Suz, looks up in alarm from the camping chair she’s claimed.

“Nobody’s going to die,” Hoseok assures her, smiling lightly.

Delia groans loudly. “Now you’ve jinxed it,” she tells Hoseok, tone scolding.

For a while everyone just chills. Jimin hooks up a Bluetooth speaker and music plays beneath the steady flow of conversation. Hoseok, Suz, Taehyung, and Namjoon walk down to the lake “just to check it out”. With Taehyung gone from the campsite, you relax, settling into your folding camping chair and releasing a deep breath.

You’re startled when something cold touches your hand; looking around, you see that Delia is trying to pass you a beer.

“Bless you,” you tell her.

“You need it,” she says, giving you a look that would piss you off if it came from literally anyone else on the planet. “You’ve got to relax. He’s just a normal person. You have to act like it.”

“Shut up, please,” you tell her through a fake smile hiding gritted teeth. You’re very aware of how close to earshot Jimin is.

“I’m just saying,” she says, wandering back to Jungkook’s waiting lap.

“Well stop,” you grumble, open the beer she’d handed you.

Yoongi and Seokjin seem to be heading up grilling for dinner, huddled around the fire with tongs. Jungkook watches them even as he talks quietly with Delia, who perches on his lap happily. This leaves you with no one to talk to except Jimin, so you do, hoping he didn’t hear Delia’s big mouth.

“Have you guys done this before?” you ask him.

He turns to look at you, eyebrows raised in question as he processes what you asked.

“Oh,” he says. “No, not really. I think a few of these guys have – definitely Jungkook – but not as a group like this.”

“Should be fun,” you muse. “What’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“Morning hike, I think?” Seokjin answers you from across the fire, where he’s opening a package of meat to grill. Beside him, Yoongi clicks the tongs absentmindedly, his eyes far away. “They were going to do the Red trail.”

“Isn’t that the hard one?” Delia asks, stopping rubbing noses with Jungkook long enough to re-enter the conversation.

Yoongi comes back to planet earth and tells her, “It’s the more challenging of the two we picked, yeah. But it’s not hard.”

“We thought we should save the easier one for the last day,” Jungkook explains, leaning around Delia to look at you. “We’ll be tired by then.”

“Define ‘not hard,’” you request dryly. “Some of us aren’t gym rats.” You cast an accusatory look at Jungkook.

“I’m opting out,” Seokjin tells you as an answer. “I’ll do the Blue trail with everyone the day after, but no thanks to the Red trail.”

“It’s really not hard, he’s being a baby,” Yoongi assures you. “It’s actually a shorter distance than the Blue trail, it’s just that it’s steeper.”

“There are some sections that are kind of rocky,” Jungkook tells you. “Make sure you wear shoes with good tread.”

“Got it,” you say, nodding. You have decent hiking boots; you’ll be fine.

By the time the crew that went to the lake wander back into sight, you’ve absently finished your first beer. You toss the can to Jimin, who’s closest to the bag you’ve all designated for empties. He also takes the liberty of fishing a fresh one out of the cooler and tossing it back to you – right as Taehyung gets close enough to call, “Is dinner ready?”

You drop the beer in the dirt.

Jimin grimaces and you close your eyes with a sigh, and then lean down to retrieve the can, wiping dirt off the top with the hem of your shirt.

“The meat’s done,” Jin answers Taehyung’s question as the group file back into camp. “What do we want to do for sides?”

You go quiet as the group discusses. You’re the least picky eater you know, so you can’t really add to the conversation. You’ll be happy with whatever they come up with. You sit quietly, sipping your beer, looking around at the group and listening.

Taehyung slips into the chair next to Jimin and starts talking to him quietly about the lake – you gather from the conversation that they want to take the canoes (which are still atop two of the parked cars at the campsite) out tomorrow or the next day. Suz snuggles on the chair with Hoseok, mirroring Delia and Jungkook on the opposite side. Namjoon plops into an empty chair and asks you, “Do you hike much?”

“Much, no,” you admit. “Maybe once or twice a year. And I’ve never been here before. It’s really pretty.”

“The views from the top are wild,” he tells you. “That’s why we picked the Red trail – it’s tougher, but it’s worth it from the top.”

“I can’t wait,” you tell him. You’re very aware of Taehyung’s eyes on you from somewhere in your periphery.

When the food is agreed upon and fixed up, everyone takes turns rising to get what they want. As you all settle back into your chairs to eat, conversation dies down to nothing. You can hear the scrapes of forks against the paper plates, birds calling down by the water, the shouts of some kids staying at a campsite that must be just out of sight.

After eating and cleaning up, you decide to walk down to the lake since you haven’t seen it yet.

“If you go straight that way,” Taehyung tells you, using his whole arm to point, “you’ll meet up with a dirt path that leads right down to the beach. You literally can’t miss it.”

“You’d be surprised,” you tell him with a small smile. “But thanks.”

“I can go and make sure you don’t get lost,” he offers, voice light.

“No,” you shake your head. “You already went, that’d be silly. I’ll be fine by myself.”

Delia kicks you as you walk by, and you refuse to look. You can translate the kick perfectly – it means “oh my god he offered to go with you.”

To which you’d reply, if you were speaking, “It doesn’t mean anything, he’s just being nice.”

You head in the direction that Taehyung had pointed out, passing several other campsites on your way, including the one with the yelling kids. There are about six of them, various ages, playing some very brutal form of freeze tag. There is tackling involved. With a small smile, you carry on.

Past two more campsites, both with older couples tending to their campfires, you find the dirt path as promised. It leads you past a Rangers’ station, as well as the shower and bathroom buildings, which you mentally file away for later. They’ll be harder to find in the dark, you figure.

It’s not much longer before the path slopes dramatically, leading down to the beach, grass gradually giving way to sand. There are a few people walking along the beach, but no one in the water. You find a spot that seems out of the way and sit, sand soft between your toes.

Out across the water, the sun is dipping low, almost completely out of view. Its reflection dances and shimmers and you let yourself sit there feeling still and peaceful. Delia’s one of your favorite people, and you like Jungkook a lot for her, and his friends have always been so nice, but sometimes it’s hard for you to be “on” with a group of people for a long time. You take this time, watching the sun disappear inch by golden inch, to recharge in the silence.

Eventually the golden hour fades to blue. You watch the sky grow darker and darker, stars coming out one by one, each time you blink another four appearing. You’re about to rise and head back before it gets dark dark when you hear familiar voices behind you. It’s Del and Jungkook, coming down the path hand-in-hand.

“We were sent to rescue you,” Delia informs you with a grin.

“I need to be rescued?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you brush sand off of your butt and thighs.

“Taehyung certainly thought so,” she says suggestively.

“What does that mean?” you ask grumpily. You don’t love that these conversations happen in front of Jungkook, but you’ve accepted that what Delia knows, he knows too.

As far as you know, he’s kept his mouth shut.

She shrugs innocently. “He was very concerned about you down here by yourself, that’s all.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “He was not very concerned,” he counters. “He just mentioned that it’s dark now and it might be tricky finding the way back alone.”

You say nothing, leading the way back up the path. It is different in the dark, but you would have been fine.

You can hear your campsite before you can see it – Hoseok’s laughter carries across the night, harmonizing with Suz’s sharp giggle. You can hear Jimin’s voice, but you can’t make out what he’s saying, only that he sounds defensive. Below that, you can hear the quiet chords of a guitar.

It’s clear as you approach that the mood has shifted at camp. Liquor bottles, juice, and soda have been placed on the picnic table next to plastic cups. Yoongi, looking a little red in the face, leans over his guitar with a look of avid concentration. Seokjin is laying on his back across one of the picnic benches, looking sideways to argue heatedly with Taehyung about god-knows-what as Jimin laughs heartily, one hand on his aching stomach muscles.

“You found her!” Namjoon says, smiling.

“I wasn’t lost,” you assert. “I knew exactly where I was.”

“We thought you’d come back when it got dark,” Suz says, her dark eyes wide. “I wouldn’t want to be down there alone.”

“I kind of liked it,” you admit. “I like the part of dusk when it’s like… every time you look away and then look back, there are more stars than there were a second ago? We don’t really get to see that at home.”

“That’s true we don’t,” Namjoon muses. You head to the picnic table to mix yourself a drink; judging by the glassiness of Jimin’s eyes and the loose chuckle Hoseok is emitting, you have some catching up to do. Delia sidles up next to you to make her own drink and she gives you a loving hip-bump that makes you giggle.

“Careful, you’ll spill the vodka,” you warn her.

“No spilling vodka!” Taehyung calls from across the circle, overhearing this. “That shit was expensive!”

“See?” you say to Delia. “This is expensive vodka and you can’t spill it.”

As you finish making your drink, you’re aware of a pair of eyes watching you from the other side of the crackling fire. You try to ignore this piercing gaze, sip at your drink to make sure you made it right, and find an empty chair around the fire to claim. Even once you’re seated, you can feel Taehyung’s eyes on you. You try to avoid eye contact, watching the ice cubes float around the top of your mixed drink, twinkling as they reflect the firelight.

When you think it’s safe, you flick your gaze in his direction. He’s finally turned, talking to Jungkook. The firelight dances on his face, showing his sharp jawline, the structure of his cheekbones, before casting him in darkness once again.

After a while, Delia comes to sit by you, leaning against your shoulder. His arms and lap now free, Jungkook also unpacks a guitar from the car, and he and Yoongi play together, riffing and vibing. You lean back against Delia and close your eyes, content to listen.

“We should figure out the sleeping arrangement,” Namjoon says from the chair next to you, and you and Delia both turn to look at him. He’d been so quiet, you’d forgotten he was sitting there.

“Honestly,” Taehyung says, his voice flat and a little sour, “I vote to give the couples their own tents. We have the space. And no one wants to see that.”

Everyone does some mental math at that.

“It’s going to be two tents of three and two tents of two regardless,” Hoseok reasons. He sounds like he’s trying to come off like he doesn’t care either way, but it’s obvious he wants a private tent for himself and Suz.

Delia turns to look at you, guilt etched on her face. You had kind of thought the two of you would share a tent. It had somehow not occurred to you that she might want to snuggle with her boyfriend. And Taehyung’s exactly right – you don’t want to share a tent with her and Jungkook: those two can’t keep their hands to themselves for a minute.

So your options seem to be: tent with Delia, tent with Delia and Jungkook and get a free show, or tent with two of Jungkook’s friends that you don’t know super well.

Cool.

Delia is giving you puppy-dog eyes now. “I’m sorry,” she whines. “Can I puh-lease do a tent with Kookie?”

“You want to put me in a tent with two of these guys,” you clarify flatly.

A chorus of objections rises from around the circle.

“We are very nice,” Seokjin asserts, brows furrowed.

“You should be honored to listen to Namjoon snore all night,” Taehyung tells you, also trying to look severe, but his lips twitch.

“I am wounded,” Namjoon says, clutching his chest dramatically.

“You can join ours,” Jimin tells you quietly. While everyone else hurries to tease you, he seems to sense that you’re having some actual trepidation about the plan. “It’s me and Tae – we’ll give you a lot of room. He always ends up snuggling with me anyway.”

“Hey!” Taehyung calls. “Way to put me on blast, dude!”

“Is it true, or is it not true?” Jimin demands, and Taehyung pointedly looks away, tipping his cup to take a drink. “Exactly.”

Del is still sticking her entire lip out, begging.

“God, fine,” you say, exasperated. “But I swear if we have to hear you-.” You let the threat go unsaid and she reaches up to squish your cheeks affectionately.

“You’re my favorite best friend ever,” she coos, your whole face squeezed between her thumb and fingers.

“Tdank youf,” you try to say.

“And I’m your favorite, too,” she says.

“Andf yer muh fay’rite tchoo,” you say.

Satisfied, she releases you.

“That was hot,” Jungkook announces.

Suz levels a finger at him. “Douchebag jar,” she demands.

“The jar isn’t here!” Jungkook protests.

Suz shakes her head. “I don’t care. Hand over the dollar, douchebag.”

Jungkook grumbles, but starts digging in his pockets.

You all spend another half hour around the fire, the guitar music slowly fading out as the boys get tired – or tipsy. Conversation loops through time as you share stories from when you were little kids (tv shows you all remember from Saturday mornings, common household dynamics, who had the scariest mom) up to your college years (first time getting properly drunk, the worst professors you’d ever had, crazy roommate stories). You’re all laughing so hard your stomach hurts, pointing at each other and shouting as you find things you have in common.

“My mom forgot me at the mall once,” Taehyung admits as he chuckles, and Jimin and Hoseok howl, doubling over in their chairs. “Literally left me in the parking lot.”

“I know this story!” Jungkook shouts between bouts of laughter. “She didn’t forget you, you got out of the car!”

The laughter doubles in volume. Taehyung’s eyes are squeezed shut as he laughs, his grin taking up half his face. Jimin pounds his knee with a fist, gasping for breath between cackles.

“My parents did forget me at the grocery store,” you pipe up. The boys take deep breaths, whining as they try to stop laughing so they can listen, wiping tears of mirth from the corners of their eyes.

Delia looks at you, eyes wide with recognition. “I remember that. You were like twelve!”

“Wow, really?” Namjoon asks. “Usually when parents forget a kid, they’re little.”

You shake your head, smiling at the ridiculous memory. “I’m one of six kids,” you explain. “My mom always did a headcount, but she forgot my sister had a friend with her. It was really my fault for getting distracted.”

“Six?” Taehyung echoes. “That’s wild. Where do you fall in the line-up?”

“Third oldest,” you tell him. “I have an older brother and an older sister, then two more younger brothers and one more little sister.”

“I could never,” Jungkook says, shaking his head. “I’d lose two kids every time we went anywhere.”

“Too bad, baby,” Delia jokes. “I want ten.”

“Ten!” Jungkook shrieks, practically pushing her off of his lap. “Are you out of your damn mind?”

Yoongi, Seokjin, and Namjoon are sharing the second three-person tent, and it’s not much later that they take one of the lanterns and go to set up their sleeping bags. You expect them to come back to the circle when they’re situated, but when Yoongi unzips the front of the tent and emerges, he heads down the path towards the bathroom buildings instead, his toothbrush in hand. Jin follows him, and then Namjoon joins them after returning the lantern to the picnic table for someone else to use.

“Should we get ready, too?” Jimin asks. You look at Taehyung to see his response, but they’re both looking at you.

“Am I Tent Leader?” you joke, surprised. Delia groans, booing at you.

“You can be if you want to,” Jimin shrugs. “I know you’re in an uncomfortable spot having to share with us when you don’t know us that well. I just want to give you a little agency.”

“Yes,” Taehyung says, tone playful, nodding enthusiastically. “Agency. That’s exactly what I was going to say.”

“You were not,” Jimin kicks at him.

“We can set up if you want,” you shrug. The boys rise, grabbing the lantern that Namjoon had left on the table, and you head to the car for your sleeping bag and overnight bag.

The boys have taken the middle and the right side of the tent, leaving you the left third. The lantern hangs from the top of the tent, casting long shadows as you all maneuver around each other as you set up. Twice, you bump into Taehyung as you both circle your areas, getting everything just right. You both mutter apologies, and once, he rests his hand lightly on your elbow, as if to steady you even though the collision had been quite gentle. You face burns and you sit heavily on your sleeping bag, digging through your overnight stuff in search of a toothbrush and some pajamas.

“Namjoon-hyung!” Jimin calls through the tent wall.

“Yeah?” Namjoon calls back from the last tent in the line.

“What time do you want to leave in the morning?”

There’s silence as Namjoon considers this. You locate your toothbrush, your pajamas, a hairbrush, and a pair of slide-on sandals. You remove your sneakers and slip these shoes on, bundling up the rest of your goodies and heading back out towards the fire, making sure to zip the tent behind you.

The circle is full of empty chairs now, the fire burning low. There are lights inside all three tents now, shadows visible as the people inside move around.

“Probably we should be on the road by seven,” Namjoon says from inside his tent, and Jimin makes a noise to indicate he heard but doesn’t love what he’s hearing.

“Del?” you call. “Or Suz? Either of you want to walk down to the bathrooms with me?”

“Oh,” Suz says, sticking her head out of her tent with Hoseok. “Yes, me, please. Will you wait while I get my stuff?”

A few minutes later, the three of you make your way down to the buildings, stepping carefully in the dark. Behind you, you can hear a few more of the guys coming.

You pee and brush your teeth, changing into your pajamas. They’re a short and t-shirt set, but the material is thin, so you opt to leave a bra on. Damn, you hate to sleep in a bra, you haven’t had to do it since college. But you just feel a little less weird about the tent situation that way.

When you return to the campsite, Yoongi is pouring sand over the top of the fire to put the rest out. Jungkook is moving his guitar case back to the back of his car, the headlights illuminating the trees in the distance. Delia waits patiently at his side, the keys in her hand.

“You got it?” you ask Yoongi as you pass by.

“Yep,” he says easily. “It’s out. All good.”

You head back into your own tent. The lantern has been removed from the top, but Taehyung’s got a gigantic flashlight turned on, and it sits in the middle of the tent with its beam aimed at the ceiling. Taehyung is inside his sleeping bag already, in the middle.

Right next to yours.

Of course.

Who needs sleep anyway, right?

You settle into your sleeping bag, staring at the blue ceiling above you. A moth flutters against the nylon fabric, wanting to escape.

You fish out your phone and check to see if you have any service. You have one tiny bar, so you try to see if you can get a text to your mom to go through, to let her know you made it safely. You probably should have done that when you’d arrived. Oops.

“So, are you excited for the mountain?” Taehyung asks, startling you so much that you drop your phone on your face, spluttering.

“Fuck, ow,” you whine, covering your smarting nose with a hand. You can hear the rustling of Taehyung’s sleeping bag that indicates that he’s moving.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice a lot closer than it was a second ago.

Taking a steadying breath against the stinging pain at the center of your face, you remove your hand. Taehyung has wormed his way out of his sleeping bag and kneels next to yours. He’s peering at you, brows furrowed with concern. He’s holding your cellphone out to you in one hand, and you reach out to take it. Your fingertips brush his, soft as moth-wings, before pulling away again.

“I’m fine,” you say, voice hushed. He’s so close to you.

The zipper of your tent suddenly slides up, and the moment – if it was a moment, and not just your overactive imagination – is broken as Jimin makes his way back inside. Taehyung goes back to his space, and you all settle in. After confirming that everyone is ready, Taehyung turns off the big flashlight, pitching you all into darkness.

You lay there, staring up, letting your eyes adjust, listening. You can hear gentle rustling outside the tent – branches in the breeze, tall grass bending with the wind, maybe even birds or bats. You can hear the low timbre of someone’s voice a few tents away – Namjoon or Yoongi, talking quietly with the other guys. You can hear the faint sounds of music – another campsite that hasn’t settled in for the night yet, though they’re thankfully pretty far away by the sounds of it. You can hear Jimin moving his feet back and forth inside his sleeping bag, the deep huff of his breath as he gets sleepy.

Closer, you can hear Taehyung breathing, soft and slow. You want to roll to look at him, to see if there’s enough light from outside that you can see his closed eyes, the slope of his nose, the pout of his pretty lips. But god forbid he could see you looking, you’d die of mortification. Instead you keep looking straight up, your breaths slowly coming to match his long inhale, his slow, whistling exhale.

Eventually, the chatter in your mind melts into gibberish, and then darkness, and you lose yourself to sleep.

When the alarm on your watch buzzes to wake you, your first coherent thought is that you must have made a mistake when you set it. Outside the tent it’s bright, but your eyes and your body are telling you it is way too early. You open one bleary eye to see that, yes, it is in fact the time you wanted to get up. You wanted to eat a little bit and pack a backpack before the hike, and you know the guys wanted to get an early start before it gets too hot.

You roll over, expecting to find yourself face to face with Taehyung. Instead, it’s clear that he abandoned his sleeping bag in the middle of the night and currently has one arm and one leg draped over top of Jimin. You smile, endeared.

You sit up as quietly as possible – though, you have a feeling you could be as noisy as you want and not wake those two – and start shifting through your big duffel bag. You find athletic leggings, a purple sports bra, a tank top, and a pair of thick socks – what you don’t want is blisters from your hiking boots halfway up the Red trail.

You gather the clothes, as well as some toiletries, and make your way out of the tent.

Seokjin and Namjoon are already up, sitting at the picnic table.

“Morning,” Namjoon calls.

“We made cowboy coffee,” Seokjin tells you. You feel a spark of excitement, but then he continues with a cheerful, “It’s terrible!”

“I guess I’ll pass, then,” you say with a little smile. “Did you use an egg?”

“Tried,” Namjoon corrects. “We tried to use an egg.”

You shake your head, still smiling. “Better luck tomorrow, cowboys.”

After getting dressed and ready down in the bathrooms, you head back to your tent to throw your stuff back in your bag. The boys are still conglomerated into one shape, but Taehyung seems to be at least partially awake now. Jimin, not so much.

“Morning,” Taehyung croaks, one eye barely open.

You can’t help your tiny smile. Who let him be so cute? “Good morning,” you tell him. “Are either of you coming on the hike? We’re leaving in about twenty minutes, if you are.”

Taehyung closes that eye again and groans loudly in protest, which in turn wakes Jimin, who whines and stretches. Still smiling, you shake your head and head back out to the picnic table, knowing you’ll need some food if you’re going to tackle a mountain today.

As you’re eating a protein bar and a yogurt, the rest of the crew wake up, filtering in and out of the tents and down to the bathrooms. Delia waves at you sleepily on her way by, and Suz a few minutes later. Taehyung shuffles past, eyes still mostly closed, hair messy. He’s followed by Jungkook and Hoseok.

When you’re done eating, you pack a backpack: water bottles, granola bars, first-aid kit, bug spray – the works.

You take two cars to get to the trailhead. Jungkook drives you, Delia, and Taehyung. Hoseok drives himself, Suz, Namjoon, and Yoongi. Seokjin, as promised, is staying at the campsite and Jimin isn’t even awake yet.

It’s slow going – Yoongi was right, it’s steep. A lot of the trail isn’t even dirt, it’s big rocks, and you’re using your hands for balance as you make your way from one to the next.

“I think you’d have an easier time without that big backpack,” Delia tells you, then teasing, “Did you think we were going overnight?”

You frown at her. “Don’t come crying to me when you run out of water and want one of my four extras. Or when you’re hungry and you want freshly sliced strawberries.”

This gets Taehyung’s attention. “You brought strawberries?”

If it had been Jungkook, or – hell – even Yoongi, you’d probably have said, “Yes, and I’ll share if you’re very nice to me today.” But it’s Taehyung, so what comes out of your mouth is just a barely audible, “Mhm!”

He graciously ignores your inability to speak, happily telling you, “Strawberries are my favorite.”

Delia comes to your rescue. “Y/N always shares, don’t worry.”

“Everything I packed is for the group,” you agree, getting yourself under control.

The group stays close together, helping one another up as the sun rises and the air grows hotter. Often, the guys will climb a new ledge and turn around to help pull you girls up. Jungkook helps you a few times, and Yoongi, and Taehyung; his fingers linger on your wrist as you lean your weight forward to help propel you up and over.

Only one of these makes your heart flutter like a fool.

You all take a break about halfway up (according to Jungkook), sitting on some rocks by the trail’s side, passing around water bottles and – yes – the tupperware full of strawberry slices.

“It’s going to feel amazing to go in the lake later,” you muse, wiping sweat from your forehead.

“Oh god, I can’t wait,” Delia agrees, closing her eyes, daydreaming of jumping into the dark water.

“I can’t wait to eat,” Jungkook counters.

“You literally said that with a mouthful of food,” Yoongi points out.

“This doesn’t count, it’s just fruit,” Jungkook says, waving a hand. “I want meat.”

The whole group titters at this, and he rolls his eyes. “Whatever, I want protein, is that better?”

“Not really,” Suz tells him lightly, still giggling.

Taehyung nudges you as he passes back the strawberries, which are gone but for a few slices. “Thanks,” he says. “Those hit the spot.”

“What else is in the magic bag?” Jungkook asks, peering over.

“Uh,” you say, unzipping the top and shifting it around to look. “Granola bars, mostly. You want a peanut one?”

He makes a grabby hand and you toss him a bar, which he catches deftly. You drink some water, enjoying the coolness of the shady spot. A guy with a dog passes you all on the trail, coming down from the top, raising a hand in friendly hello. The guys bum-rush to pet the dog.

“We should probably get moving,” Suz says after a minute of this, glancing at her watch, breaking up the dog party. “If we want to be at the top before noon.”

The rest of the way up goes much like the first half – a slow, careful pace and a lot of helping each other up and over rock ledges.

Near the top, you lose your footing. You’d braced a foot near the edge of the ledge you were trying to climb, but your foot slips and your body follows. You slide with a yelp, and someone steadies you by cupping your elbow with a firm hand, another high on your back.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you,” he says, voice deep enough that you have to try not to shiver. The rest of the group doesn’t seem to have noticed that you two paused.

“Thanks, Taehyung,” you say, a little breathless. The slip had kicked up your adrenaline and your heart pounds in your stomach, in your fingertips, at the edges of your vision. “Shit. That scared me.”

“Go carefully,” he tells you, something firm and insistent in his tone. He climbs the ledge that you had slipped on and turns, holding out a hand to you. You take a quick breath and grab his hand, scrambling as he pulls you up to join him.

“Thanks,” you say shyly, and he gives you a grin and a salute before turning and following the group up the path.

When the trail levels out, leading from dirt path to flat rock expanse, you all rush out to see. The horizon seems forever away, hundreds of miles unfolding below you in ripples of green. The view takes your breath away, and you walk from side to side of the flat area, trying to see each angle. The rest of the group fans out, doing the same, phones coming out of pockets as everyone starts snapping pictures. The couples take some together – you act as photographer for Delia and Jungkook, as is your usual duty when third-wheeling them anywhere. You take a few of your own, trying to capture the way the foothills start as rolling hills in the distance, building in height and frequency as they near the actual mountain-range.

“Holy shit, wow,” you breathe, creeping closer to the edge, where you can see the lake. It looks literally magical from here, like every folk story you grew up on could really be true. It gives you the feeling that ancient societies, with their strong ties to the earth and its natural processes, were really the ones who got it right.

“It’s really something, right?” Taehyung asks. You’re not sure when he came up next to you – you’d been enthralled by the view, lost in your thoughts as you tried to think about how to describe the way the road cut through the trees like a ribbon, the way the lake glittered and winked in the sunlight.

“It’s so beautiful,” you say, so enraptured by the view that you forget to act like a clown in his presence.

“Let’s take a group picture!” Suz suggests, pulling out her phone. There are a few other hikers enjoying the view, and Suz has no problem getting a young couple to agree to take a picture of your group. You all congregate near the edge – but not too near. You’re painfully aware that in the bunch, Taehyung ended up to your left, and he rests his arm lightly across your shoulders. On your right, Delia wraps an arm around Jungkook’s waist and leans her head on his shoulder cutely.

“One funny one?” Suz suggests.

Delia and Suz are both climbing onto their boyfriends backs, as the rest of you try to think of poses.

“Wait!” Taehyung cries, laughing. He’s laughing so hard he can barely get the idea out. “We’re an even number! We should all do it!”

“What?” Suz asks, confused.

Jungkook’s caught on, and he starts to giggle too. “Tae, who are you offering to piggyback - Namjoon?”

Taehyung’s practically snorting now. “Absolutely not, have you seen how big he is these days?”

Yoongi’s shoulders shake as he laughs. “I’ll go on Namjoon’s back – that’ll be fucking funny.”

Everyone hurries a little, aware that a stranger is waiting for you to get situated so she can take your photo and be on her way. Taehyung turns to you, still giggling a little.

“You’re okay with going on my back, right? I guess I should have asked first,” he says, a little apologetically.

“I’m okay with it if you are,” you say with a shrug. “I’m not the one who has to lift a whole person.”

He waves a hand like it’s nothing and turns and squats so you can climb on. You hold his shoulders firmly, trying not to feel them too much, and squeeze his sides with your knees. He reaches back and hooks his hands behind your knees, giving you a little bounce to get you both comfortable and situated as he stands.

“Hurry up,” Namjoon huffs. “Yoongi’s heavy.”

The four guys decide to make faces like they’re exhausted, while those of you behind held up – including Yoongi – cheese and give peace signs out in front.

“I can’t wait to see this,” Delia giggles as you’re all lowered back to the ground. The hiker hands Suz her phone back. You all crowd around to take a look, sputtering with laughter as you take in how silly it is.

You hate that you notice how good you and Taehyung look together. You just look natural together, like you belong.

When you’re all rested and done taking pictures, Namjoon heads the group back down the way you came; the Blue trail that you’ll do tomorrow is a loop, but Red only goes up and back.

You fall into a kind of trance as you follow the pack back down. Your feet seem to move on autopilot, and you let your mind wander. You’re excited to swim when you all get back down – after eating a big lunch, of course. You wonder if the beach will be packed with families. This beach is only open to those who have paid for campsites, so hopefully it won’t be too -

A loud cry in front of you startles you back to reality. You gasp out loud as you process that Suz is on her hands and knees just below one of the ledges. She must have missed the step or tripped.

“Oh shit, are you okay?” Jungkook asks, hurrying over. Hoseok is already there too, trying to assess the damage.

Suz has tears on her face by the time you catch up. The boys have helped her roll to sit. Her palms are scraped and one of her legs is bleeding a lot from a long gash, but it’s her other ankle that she clutches. You’re slinging your backpack onto the rock in front of her without really thinking.

“Back up,” you tell everyone, and they shuffle to make room. You’ve got tons of first-aid experience from your job, and you can tell already that her cut will need stitches. But there are other concerns here, too.

“Alright, Suz, I know it hurts but you’re okay,” you tell her gently. “What hurts the worst?”

“My ankle,” she says, still holding it. “I slipped on the edge there and-.”

You tune the explanation out, eyeing her ankle – which has already started to swell – and the cut.

“Wipe your hands off as best you can and let me clean them – quickly,” you instruct. Once you’ve wiped her hands with an alcohol pad – she winces, but doesn’t complain – you give her a large square of gauze.

“Hold that on top of your cut,” you tell her, pointing to the bleeding gash. “Press hard, and don’t let up on the pressure, got it? I’ll wrap your ankle – I’m gonna have to take your shoe off.”

She follows directions, wincing again as you do what you need to do to get her ankle wrapped up in an ace bandage. Hoseok hovers behind her, face ashen, his hands on her shoulders.

“Is it broken?” he asks.

“Can you turn it in a circle?” you ask her, just to be safe, but you have a feeling it’s just sprained. She can, and you shake your head.

“Not broken,” you confirm. Of course, only an x-ray can tell for sure - and with tiny ankle bones sometimes an MRI is needed. But the range of motion is a good sign. Everyone is standing in a semi-circle around you three, exchanging anxious looks. A group of four hikers on their way up stop, inquiring if your group needs help.

“We’re okay,” you tell them over your shoulder. “We can get her back down. But thank you!”

The gauze has been pretty saturated, so you give her a fresh one and tape it into place. Honestly, the cut is what you’re the most concerned about.

“We’ll have to carry her the rest of the way down,” you tell the guys. “You should definitely take turns if you need to, and we need to be really careful about going down over the rocks.”

“You guys, I’m so sorry,” Suz moans, covering her face.

“Don’t worry about it,” Taehyung says immediately. “Let’s just get down safely, okay? No one’s upset with you.”

“Shit happens,” Jungkook adds.

“Hobi, you want first dibs?” Namjoon jokes.

The guys help Suz teeter on one foot until she’s up on Hoseok’s back. She carries her own abandoned sneaker. You remember Seokjin telling you you’d need good treads for this trail, and it’s clear she didn’t have that. You pack the first-aid kit back into your backpack and stand.

It’s much slower going the rest of the way. The group basically stops still every time the trail requires hikers to climb down a ledge, everyone helping to make sure whoever is carrying Suz makes it without incident.

It takes over twice as long to get down the mountain than it did to go up. You load into the cars – Hoseok very gingerly setting Suz in the front passenger seat – and head back to camp.

“She’s going to need stitches,” you announce to your car, as soon as the doors close. “I didn’t want to say it while we were still hiking and freak her out, but it’s seriously true. Someone needs to take her into town, like, immediately.”

“Hobi will take her,” Jungkook assures you from the driver’s seat. You relax, settling back and closing your eyes. You feel exhausted; swimming sounded so good earlier, but now that you’re all coming down from the adrenaline rush (not to mention having climbed a mountain) all you can daydream about is a nap.

Luckily, the drive back isn’t far at all. Hoseok’s car beats yours back – you have a feeling he sped the whole way, nerves acting up over his injured girlfriend. Jimin and Seokjin are at the picnic table, and it looks like Yoongi and Namjoon are filling them in on what happened. Hoseok and Suz are still in the car, talking seriously.

When Jungkook puts the car in park, you hop out, going straight to Hoseok’s door and knocking on the window so he’ll lower it.

“You need to take her into town,” you tell him seriously. He turns and gives Suz a look that says, see? Clearly, she’d been arguing that she didn’t need to go.

“Seriously, Suz,” you tell her. “That cut needs to be cleaned and you’ll probably need some stitches in it. And it wouldn’t hurt to get your ankle x-rayed. I don’t think there’s a break, but even if there’s not you might need crutches and some stronger painkillers.”

Her face crumples a little. “I don’t want to leave the trip,” she says, voice very small. “I was looking forward to this for months.”

“You can come back,” you tell her gently. Seokjin is on his way over to the car, his face serious.

“Hobi, are you going to the hospital?” he asks. Hoseok looks at Suz, face pleading. She sighs in defeat, pressing her lips together unhappily. Hoseok turns back to the window, nodding.

“Yeah, I’m going to drive her to the emergency room in town.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jin offers. “That way you don’t have to sit alone while they take her for x-rays and all that.”

“You don’t have to,” Hoseok says, but Jin waves him off, heading to the backseat.

You all crowd around the car to tell them goodbye, backing away when Hobi shifts the car into reverse.

A tentative silence falls over you.

“We need to eat,” Jungkook reminds you, breaking the solemn silence. “Should we make sandwiches?”

The sandwiches, and the chips, fruit, and cookies that accompany them, do the trick – you can feel the group perk up after a good meal. Taehyung and Jungkook show off the pictures from the top to Jimin – who seems like he hadn’t been awake long before you’d all returned. He laughs riotously at the ones of the girls and Yoongi being carried piggyback at the top. Yoongi really hammed it up, opting for a flower cup pose instead of the agreed-upon peace sign. You can’t be mad, the result is too funny.

“I don’t know about anyone else,” Yoongi announces, once his sandwich is gone, “but I need a fucking nap.”

“I was thinking about finding a place to read,” Namjoon says, eyeing the trees near you.

“I’ve been waiting all day to hit that beach,” Delia says. Reason Number 347787 that you love her so much.

“Yes,” you say emphatically. “Beach.”

“Well,” Jimin says, “you’re welcome to walk down to this beach. But Jungkook and I were talking yesterday about going cliff jumping? The place isn’t that far.”

“Is that safe?” you ask.

At the same time, Delia says, “How hard is the climb to the top? Some of us already climbed a mountain today, Park Jimin, instead of staying in bed until one in the afternoon.”

“It’s not hard,” Jungkook assures her. “I’ve gone before – it’s an easy slope up. Plus we don’t have to spend the whole time jumping – we can do it once or twice and then just swim around and relax.”

“Is it safe there?” you ask again, your question having been overlooked for his girlfriend’s.

“Oh,” he says, “yeah. I mean, I’ve gone there a lot. You have to be careful, obviously, like this is not a good drunk activity. But if you’re not being stupid, it’s safe.”

This doesn’t really placate you as much as you’d like, and your stomach stirs nervously. But at the same time, you’ve never done cliff-jumping before, and you’re not sure you’ll get the opportunity again any time soon. So, when the guys and Delia head into the tents to grab their bathing suits and towels, you do the same.

There are only five of you going, so you take one car. Jungkook is right when he promises it’s close – it’s only about a five minute drive once you’re off the campsite property. Jungkook’s phone dings as he parks, and he reads aloud the text from Jin, letting you all know that Suz is being stitched up at the moment, and her x-ray is coming next. You all agree to come check for an update in a few hours, and Jungkook leaves his phone locked in the car.

“Do you want to jump first, or swim a little first?” Jimin asks the group as you load out of the car. There are six more cars in the small, gravel parking lot, but no people near them.

“Should we get used to the water first?” Delia asks. You feel a little better to hear the nervousness in her voice; you don’t want to be the only scaredy-cat.

The body of water you’re at isn’t the same lake as the campsite, though they are close together. Instead, Jimin informs you all as you walk up the path, this is an old stone quarry.

“The water’s much deeper,” he explains. “That’s why it’s safe to jump from so high – no chance of it being too shallow.”

The water is – no joke – as black as ink. You’ve seen dark muddy water, and deep blue ocean before. You’ve never seen anything like this in your life.

Jungkook drops his towel and dives right from the rocky ground you stand on, surfacing with a splutter seconds later.

“It’s cold,” he warns, and you and Delia exchange a look.

“It won’t be so bad once we adjust to it,” she tells you.

“You have to just rip the band-aid off,” Taehyung says to both of you. “Jump in and start swimming – the sooner you’re moving, the sooner it’ll feel less like death.”

“Don’t go into sales, Tae,” Delia tells him flatly. He gives her a wink and runs towards the edge, hitting the water with a splash. Jimin follows closely behind, and they both shriek upon surfacing, making Jungkook howl with laughter.

“Oh,” you say, eyeing the boys, “I do not want to do this, suddenly.”

“Let’s jump and race to the other side,” she suggests.

“Seriously!” Jimin calls to the two of you. “Once you’re in, it’s fine!”

“Okay,” you tell her, the idea sounding like it will work. “To the other side and back?” You eye the distance – it’s not that far. The jumping area is clearly off to the left – you can hear the shouts and whoops from that direction.

She counts you down and you both take it at a run, diving in. The cold assaults you from every single direction as you hit the water, and it’s dark under there as well. You can’t help but shriek, the noise escaping you with a jet of bubbles. Once you surface, you launch to a fast front-crawl. Delia’s got a bit of a lead on you, but you don’t care – the goal is to not feel the cold anymore.

Once you get back to the boys – the race aspect pretty much forgotten – you do feel better. You push your hair out of your face and adjust your suit, treading water lightly as everyone chats and splashes.

Slowly, you all make your way in the direction of the cliffs, your pile of towels waiting for you back where you started. Once you get around the bend, it’s very clearly set up. The jump that’s clearly most popular looms above you, a line of visitors waiting for their turn showing you clearly how the trail to the top slopes gently down to where you are. Then, further down, there’s a much higher jump. No line there, but you see one young woman fly from the top, screaming with excitement until she hits the water, too far away for you to hear the splash.

“Absolutely the fuck not,” Delia says, eyeing the higher cliff.

“You don’t have to,” Jungkook hurries to assure her.

“Don’t worry, Del,” Jimin says. “Us chickens can stay down here with the kids.”

“Let’s do this one first anyway,” Jungkook suggests. “It’s fun to all jump together.”

When your turn comes, you all wait for the two teenagers who jumped before you to clear out from underneath. You all link hands, jumping at the same time with shouts and squeals. You’ve got Delia on your left and Jimin on your right, and you hold them tightly.

The jump isn’t too high, and you’re airborne for what feels like only a second - quick enough for your adrenaline to sing, for a smile to light up your face, for someone to your left to let out a whoop, and then you’re surrounded by cold and dark again.

You lose Jimin, the force of the water knocking his hand from yours. You’re still clinging to Delia tightly when you surface, laughing.

You tread water and look around, doing a quick headcount. Once everyone’s visible, you all make your way to the low area where it’s easy to climb out, ready to go again.

You do this for a while; you go as a whole group a few more times, then in smaller groups or alone. Jungkook abandons you altogether to go to the high jump, but no one else joins him.

“Go with me!” Delia tells you, and you two link arms, rushing to the jump. The boys do spins and flips, getting some scattered, half-hearted applause from the people still in line.

After some time, Jungkook returns, flipping his wet bangs out of his eyes. “It’s incredible. This is kiddie hour over here, that’s a jump!”

“No,” Jimin says flatly, and swan-dives from the ledge, literally escaping the argument like a secret agent.

“I’m with Jimin,” Delia says, her voice regretful. You know she loves Jungkook’s adventurous, thrill-seeking side, and usually she’s up to tag along. It’s part of what makes them a good couple, in your opinion. But Delia’s not the strongest swimmer, and you think the water factor is what’s tripping her up today. “We’ll stay here, right?” She looks at you like she’s already counted your support.

But the thing is… you’re considering the higher jump. It was your whole reason for coming, wasn’t it - to make sure a rare opportunity doesn’t pass you by? To take advantage of a chance to be brave, to put it on paper, to collect the receipts?

“I’ll try,” you say, your voice startling even yourself. Delia’s mouth drops open, but Jungkook grins, all squished like a bunny.

“Y/N! Yes! Come on, I’ll show you the path.”’

“Bye,” you tell everyone. “If Jungkook gets me killed, please say nice things at my funeral.”

Delia shakes her head. “I’ll say you were a giant fool.”

“My Nana won’t appreciate that,” you tell her with a pointed finger, and then scurry to catch up with Jungkook.

The path up slopes more sharply than the low jump, but at least it’s just a flat path, no rocks or ledges to climb.

“Hey, Jungkook, this is safe, right?” you ask, nerves having a field day. You have so much adrenaline going, you’re almost dizzy from it. And you know it’ll be worse at the top.

“As long as you’re being careful, yeah,” he tells you. “There’s puddles along the top, so don’t run before you jump or you could slip. As long as you have a clean jump, you’ll be perfect.”

“There aren’t, like, rocks at the bottom?” you ask nervously.

He shakes his head. “It’s safe. I’ve been coming here for practically a decade.”

You believe him, but something in your nervous system must not, because your hands are trembling.

Too bad, you tell your body. That’s fine, be scared. I’m doing it anyway. I want to be able to say that I did.

Your resolve crumbles when you stand at the ledge and look down at the pitch-black water below.

“Oh,” you groan, “I don’t know about this.”

“It’ll be fine,” he tells you. “You can watch me.”

That is not going to help, you think, but you don’t argue.

“I’ll jump and I’ll come right back up to check on you,” he suggests. “If you’re still not sure, we can walk back down.”

You nod, and he sets up to jump. He lets out a series of whoops and shouts as he falls - and he falls for a bit - before the water silences him. You watch him surface, further out than he’d landed, and start swimming back to where he can climb out.

You are not sure you can make your legs move. You are not sure you won’t hit a rock on the way down, that they won’t have to helicopter in medics for you. You imagine for a second the phone call your mother will get.

A voice breaks you from this reverie - thank goodness, because it was getting bleak.

“Are you going to do it?”

You turn fast, almost slipping in the puddles Jungkook had warned you about. You throw out your hands to steady yourself, and he reaches out as if to steady you too, but doesn’t actually touch you.

You thought it was Jungkook, somehow getting back to the top in record speed. Instead, it’s Taehyung.

“Why are you up here?” you ask him, your voice still sounding a little like you’re gasping. Your adrenaline right now is seriously no joke.

He eyes the ledge behind you. “I think I want to do it. Are you going to?”

“I was,” you say, “until I got up here and started thinking about all the rocks.”

He nods. “The rocks don’t scare me,” he says, “it’s just the height. I don’t… I don’t do great with heights. My heart is pounding just from standing here and we’re not even at the edge.”

You laugh a little with relief. “You should feel mine,” you admit. “I think I might pass out?”

You both scoot just a little closer, and you look at the general spot that Jungkook had disappeared. He seemed to think it was fun.

“What if we go at the same time?” Taehyung suggests. You’re both peering over the edge, and he’s reached out a hand, his fingertips butterfly soft, just barely resting on your upper arm, as if he’s prepared to pull you back if you slip. You’re not sure he knows he’s doing it, being protective. It’s so sweet it makes you want to scream.

“What if I land on you?” you laugh nervously.

“I’ll go further down,” he says, pointing. “Plenty of room between us. We can just time it together.”

You chew on your bottom lip. “But that means I can’t chicken out,” you say with a little laugh. “Or you’ll have jumped without me and I’ll look like a dick.”

“Ah,” he says, nodding, “yes, except I also can’t chicken out or I will look like a dick. It’s honestly the only way to trick my brain into doing this. Otherwise I’m going to stand up here until Jungkook comes to save me, and that will hurt my ego.”

You laugh again. “Okay,” you say finally. You’re up here, right? You’d made the decision to do this already. You just need to have a little bit of faith that things will be okay. Sometimes you gotta jump, your Nana always told you, and this time - for the first time - it was literal.

You can’t wait to tell her about this later.

You both set up, Taehyung moving a good seven feet to your right.

“Ready, beautiful?” he asks, looking sideways at you, and you almost fall off the fucking cliff. Beautiful?

Whatever your face does in response to this, he ignores it, beginning to count down - “Three…. two… one!”

No time to think about it, no time to second-guess, no time to scramble backwards and cling to a tree: you have to jump.

The feeling is insane - nothing beneath your feet, your stomach flying up to your throat; on your right, Taehyung shouts. Your feet pedal in the air on instinct, and then you slam into the water.

It hurts a little, honestly, and you have to tug your bathing suit bottoms out of your ass before you start pulling and kicking your way back to the surface. When you break out on the top, sucking in a large breath, you find Taehyung treading near you.

“That was wild,” he grins, shaking his head, his wet hair almost covering his eyes.

“Beautiful?” you repeat, your voice a little shrill.

He laughs, a deep belly-laugh, his smile crinkling his face. “Want to go again?” he asks, side-stepping your small meltdown.

This sobers you a little. “I do,” you admit. Now that you’ve done it once, it’s way less scary. You feel pretty confident you won’t leave here on a backboard.

You both swim to the area you can climb out; someone, at some point, installed metal rungs into the rock, like a ladder.

“Careful,” Taehyung warns you, “you’ll slide like crazy on these.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, slowly working your way up. Taehyung treads in the water behind you, waiting his turn, and you hope he’s enjoying the great view of your ass as you climb. Since you’re beautiful today and all.

He climbs out behind you and pushes his wet hair back, out of his face, which renders you speechless again, the cockiness leaving your body in an instant. You vow not to speak as you start up the path to the top, knowing you’ll trip over your words if you try right now.

“Hey,” he says. “I wanted to say… you were really cool earlier today.”

“I was - what?”

He grins again, like he finds your spluttering so endearing. “With Suz,” he explains. “You just… I don’t know, you just took charge and got everything sorted. It was really cool.”

You don’t know how to respond to this; you can feel your face heat up even though the rest of you is shivering from the quarry water.

“Thanks,” you mumble, eyes on the path.

He laughs a little. “It was like seeing a whole different side of you,” he says. “Normally you’re like… well, like this, all shy.”

“I’m not shy,” you lie, like a liar.

“You seem shy,” he counters playfully. “But I’ve been informed by some secret spies that when I leave you’re much chattier. Care to weigh in on that?”

“What is this, an interrogation?” you demand. “What spies? I’ll kill Jeon Jungkook, I swear to God -.”

He laughs again, a repetitive giggle that has him sucking for breath between each gleeful noise. “It wasn’t Jungkook. But I may have been informed by a little birdie that I make you nervous.”

“Oh, my god,” you utter, absolutely humiliated. Jimin? Had to be Jimin if it wasn’t Jungkook. He had overheard Delia talking to you at the campsite last night. He’s dead. He should have remembered that you’re sleeping in the same tent later. You will absolutely have revenge.

“Can I ask… why?” Taehyung presses, something gentle in his voice, and you realize belatedly that maybe his feelings are a little hurt. This makes you feel kind of bad, and you decide with a sigh that you probably owe him some honesty at this point. You’ve already embarrassed yourself roughly six hundred and fifty two times in the past two months… can you really make it any worse? Might as well go all-in.

“I mean. Look at you?” You laugh; Taehyung does not.

“That doesn’t mean anything though,” he says, and he sounds… disappointed. “I could look… I could look like anything but still be, like, a bad person. Or problematic, or mean, or boring. What I look like isn’t me.”

Something in your chest twinges, and you hurry to do damage control.

“No, I know that,” you assure him. He probably thinks you’re fucking shallow, now. “Believe me, I know that. It’s just that… I’ve also been around you enough to know you’re not - mean, bad, anything like that. Definitely not boring.”

“So, what am I?” he challenges. You’ve reached the top again, and you both stand, suddenly too involved in this tension-filled back-and-forth to care about jumping.

“Nice?” you suggest. “Silly? Creative?”

He scoffs, giving a playful eye-roll, the tension starting to diffuse a little. If you’d offended him or upset him, it seems like he’s starting to let you off the hook. “I’m not always nice.”

“You’re nice to me,” you point out.

“I am nice to you,” he agrees lightly, eyes twinkling.

“Who aren’t you nice to?” you tease.

“People who kick puppies. People who chew with their mouths open. People who spoil movie endings. That kind of thing.”

You laugh, and he grins at you.

“What else?” he asks, still teasing, but his tone is lower, his voice deepening. Your body reacts with a shudder that you hope you can blame on the chilly water clinging to your body, dripping from your hair. Heat blooms low in your belly and you force yourself to ignore it and focus.

“What is this, Taehyung’s Compliment Hour?” you complain.

“You have enough material to fill an hour?” He cocks an eyebrow. “I’m flattered.”

You laugh despite yourself. “Douchebag Jar,” you tell him, and he laughs.

“That thing is going to overflow before we go home,” he says.

“Yeah, and it will single-handedly be from you and Jungkook.”

He laughs again at this, and then gives you a look that you can’t really decipher.

“So you’re weird around me because I’m nice?” he says. “Just trying to understand.”

You almost jump from the cliff just to avoid this embarrassment. “I’m not weird around you,” you grumble.

He gives you a look.

You shuffle your feet, eye the water, squirm under his waiting gaze. “We established that already,” you finally give, and he cracks a small smile.

“Well for what it’s worth,” he says, turning to finally head closer to the edge, “I think you’re nice, too.”

A noise behind you startles you and you turn to see Jungkook jogging up the path.

“Hey!” he calls. “Glad I caught you. I just checked the time and I think we should head back to the car to see if there’s an update on Suz.”

“Okay,” Taehyung says easily. “One more jump?”

“We have to get down there somehow,” you agree.

The three of you line up - spaced far enough apart to not land on each other - and get ready to jump. Jungkook is in the middle, but you find yourself leaning to see past him, to catch Taehyung’s eye as you ask, “Together?”

He nods. “Together.”

The adrenaline of the jump, the feeling of falling, the bracing cold - none of them hold a candle to the feeling you get, like lightning straight through your heart, when he smiles at you as he says this.

Back at the car, you all stand shivering and chattering, wrapped in your towels as Jungkook checks his phone.

“They’re waiting for the x-ray results,” he tells you, reading the screen. “It should be soon.”

“Let’s head back,” Delia says decisively. “I want to shower while it’s still light out.”

“Yes,” you agree - you hadn’t thought about this, and you’re glad she has. “Me too.”

You all dry off as best you can before climbing back into Jungkook’s car. The drive back to camp takes only minutes, which is lucky because your leg is pressed against Taehyung’s leg, your elbow against his elbow, and you’re cold from the lake and his body is radiating heat, and that’s only one of two reasons you want to absolutely climb in his fucking lap. You’re saved from yourself as the car pulls into the space at your campsite.

What had that you’re nice too meant? Was that Taehyung-language for I like you too?

When Jungkook parks and you climb out, Yoongi and Namjoon turn to look at you. True to their word before you’d left earlier, Yoongi’s hair looks like he definitely just got up, and Namjoon is still holding the book he was reading, his finger in between the pages to save his spot.

“How was it?” Namjoon asks as you get closer.

“Incredible,” you say, even though the question had been geared more to the guys. “Incredible.”

You head to the tent to grab your shampoo and other toiletries for the showers and meet Delia back outside her tent.

“The water in there better get hot,” she grumbles as she zips her and Jungkook’s tent back up. “I’m fucking freezing.”

There are four shower stalls, so you take two right next to each other. You close the curtain and set your items down on the bench, organizing what you need now and what you need when you get out.

As the water heats up and as you shampoo, you chat over the wall with your best friend, filling her in on what happened at the lake.

“Oh my god,” she says. “Wow, so he basically admitted he’s into you!”

“Did he?” you ask. “Did he really, though?”

“Yes,” she says firmly, and you can hear her squirt shampoo or conditioner onto her palm. “You had me at the beautiful thing - that’s classic Taehyung, he was absolutely letting you know. Wow, I wish I could have witnessed it. I haven’t seen Taehyung turn it on to flirt with someone since before - you know. His ex.”

You frown. You’d forgotten that when Delia and Jungkook got together four months ago, Taehyung was still in a relationship. She hadn’t been there the night you’d met him - the night Delia met Jungkook. But Delia had been around them as a couple a few times in that first month with Jungkook - Jungkook’s relationship with her blossoming right as Taehyung’s was crashing and burning.

Full of doubt, you go quiet. After a minute, she says your name quietly, and then once more - insistently - when you don’t answer.

“Yeah,” you say flatly, so she’ll shut up.

“I’m telling you,” she says, as she turns the water off on her side of the wall. “He doesn’t just do stuff like that unless he means it. Okay?”

“Yeah,” you repeat, reaching for your towel. “I hear you.”

When you two return to camp, you’re informed that some decisions have been made in your absence.

“So I just hung up with Hobi,” Jungkook tells Delia, and you listen intently. “Suz is determined to come back tonight and finish the trip. Hobi and Jin both think she’ll change her mind as her pain meds wear off a little.”

“What does that mean?” Delia asks flatly.

Jungkook explains. “Her ankle isn’t broken but the sprain is bad. She’s on crutches, and she’s on some pain-killers - and antibiotics for the cut, too. Hobi thinks she’s going to end up wanting to go home - what fun can she have camping on crutches, and in pain?”

“That sucks,” you say sympathetically. You’d liked Suz, you were hoping she’d be back.

“It does,” Jungkook agrees. You notice that most of the guys are absent - you wonder if they’re all down in the mens’ showers. “Anyway, we were thinking we’d meet them all in town for dinner at a restaurant? That way she can eat with us more comfortably and she can make her decision from there.”

“Nowhere fancy,” Delia asserts. “I don’t have a curling iron here.”

“Sure, sure,” Jungkook says distractedly, eyes on his phone screen. “None of these places are that nice anyway.”

The drive into town is quite a bit longer than the drive to the quarry. Luckily - or maybe unluckily, you can’t decide - you end up in the car with only Jungkook, Delia, and Jimin; Taehyung hopped in with Namjoon and Yoongi.

“You,” you greet Jimin with narrowed eyes. His eyebrows rise as he clearly tries to remember what he’s done to piss you off. “What did you say to Taehyung?”

Delia turns all the way around in her seat to watch the carnage.

Jimin laughs nervously. “Oh, that,” he says.

“Yes, that,” you snarl. “I know where you sleep, Park Jimin! One sleeping bag over from me!”

“Okay okay okay-,” he says, hands up, like he might have to actually protect his face from you, “but hear me out!”

“Yeah, you’d better have an excuse!” you yell. Delia cackles.

“He started the conversation!” Jimin explains. “He said something to me about how you get all - y’know -.”

He’s too polite to say whatever descriptor he thinks fits the spot.

“So you said what, exactly?” you ask him with narrowed eyes.

“I was sticking up for you!” he cries. “All I said was that when he’s not around, you’re very fun and normal!”

Your eyes go wide. “Did you use the word ‘normal’?”

He seems to look left and right for a nonexistent escape route. “Okay, but! Y/N! He likes you and he was feeling like you didn’t like him because you wouldn’t talk when he was around! I was helping!”

This makes you go still. Delia slaps repeatedly at your knees in excitement. “He what?” you ask, your voice echoing in your ears. “Really?”

“I told you!” Delia squeals. “You didn’t believe me!”

“Yours was a projecture!” you protest. “I need cold, hard facts!”

Jungkook groans, rolling his eyes. “God, it’s like seventh grade in here. You like each other! Fucking do something about it!”

“No need to curse at me,” you mutter, but you turn away from Jimin, deciding he gets to live. For now.

The restaurant is casual, thank goodness, and the trio that came from town have already procured a table. Your car gets there first thanks to Jeon Lead-Foot Jungkook, and you choose seats.

“How are you feeling?” you ask Suz right away. “Does it hurt a lot?”

“I feel great,” she laughs. “Whatever pain-killer they gave me was-.” She uses her fingers to make a chef’s kiss.

“Yeah, she’s a little high right now,” Hoseok tells you all quietly. “Extra strength Tylenol from here on out, babe.”

The group from Namjoon’s car files in, and it surprises you not at all when Taehyung slides into the empty space beside you, giving you an easy smile.

“Did we miss anything?” he asks.

“Just that Suz is feeling those pain meds,” Jungkook supplies.

The waitress comes by and takes everyone’s drink order before sweeping away again, off to her next table. You and Delia take bets on whose cocktail will be more brightly colored (it’s hers - bright blue). The atmosphere is relaxed, the lamps glowing orange above the table, the chatter around the restaurant a comfortable background noise. Your drinks come and you order food.

“So,” Delia says to the whole table, over the top of her very blue drink, “you all know how hot I find it when Jungkook boxes, right?”

“We are painfully aware,” you tell her.

“Too aware. Please stop telling us,” Taehyung deadpans.

Jungkook covers his face with a hand, already knowing where his girlfriend’s story is going. It’s clear by the grin on her face that she’s been waiting to tell this story at his expense.

“Well the other night,” she says, pausing for dramatic effect, “he literally started boxing in his sleep. Like, three in the morning, we’re both dead asleep, and he starts punching my shoulder like I was the punching bag.”

Everyone cracks up, and Jungkook starts spluttering in protest, trying to defend himself.

“This is a fun game,” Suz says. “What’s the weirdest - nonsexual - thing you’ve ever had a partner do in their sleep?”

You all think hard, chuckles and giggles floating around the table as you consider options.

“My ex talked in her sleep, you’ve all heard those stories,” Namjoon starts. “She’d straight up give lectures in her sleep. It’d be the middle of the night and she’d be reciting archaeology facts. Sometimes I’d google what she was talking about - it was always true! She knew her shit.”

You all laugh at that, and you pipe up, “I had that, too. A guy I was… seeing… he’d talk in his sleep and if I answered him, sometimes he’d keep the conversation going. It was so fucking funny. One time he told me in his sleep that I had to fix my Pokemon stance.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Jimin asks, covering his giggles with a hand.

“Like, how you stand when you throw the ball, I think?” you giggle.

“What was wrong with your stance?” Yoongi asks, eyebrows raised.

“I asked him that!” you say, pointing at him in appreciation for asking the Important Questions. “I asked what’s wrong with my stance and he told me - still in his sleep! - that my toes were too pointed.”

Everyone’s laughing, but Taehyung shakes his head through his chuckles. “There’s no way. There’s no way that happened.”

“I wrote it in a note on my phone so I’d never forget!” you tell him, laughing so hard now that it’s hard to breathe. “I swear, I have it written down word for word!”

“I win this one, hands down,” Hoseok says, “and the culprit is right here.”

“Oh my God,” Suz laments. “Don’t tell that one, it’s so embarrassing!”

“This game was your idea,” Hoseok reminds her, grinning. “Those in glass houses should not throw stones.”

“Now you have to tell us,” Yoongi says, swirling his drink in his glass.

“Okay,” Hoseok says, gleeful, as Suz shakes her head, laughing. “So it was the middle of the night, we’re fast asleep, and suddenly this sweet girl next to me screams ‘fuck!’ - like something is wrong, like she’s scared, and she leaps out of the bed.”

“I hate you,” Suz groans, covering her face.

“I, of course, turn on the light and also jump out of bed, because obviously something is trying to kill us,” Hoseok continues, ignoring her, giggling through every word. “And I’m frantically asking her - what’s wrong, what’s wrong, what happened?”

Everyone’s giggling a little in anticipation as he builds the story.

“So then!” he continues dramatically. “She tells me something bit her - so I’m thinking there’s a spider in the bed and we both start, like, looking in the blankets for it. Please remember that it is ass o’clock and we’ve been asleep for hours already.”

“Oh my god,” you say, giggling wildly. You’re dimly aware that your knee is touching Taehyung’s under the table, but you don’t move it.

“Then I notice that something on the sheets is red, and being half-asleep I assume it’s blood from whatever bit her, and I scream ‘you’re bleeding!”

Jungkook is practically crying, and Suz takes this moment to point out, “I really blame you for the hysteria. If you hadn’t yelled that, we would have calmed down.”

Hoseok continues to ignore her, too caught up in the magic of story-telling. “So, obviously, I start trying to look for where she is bleeding from. And I start checking her arms and her back and asking her where does it hurt, and where did it bite you and she goes very suspiciously still and quiet...”

“Oh my god,” you repeat. Next to you, Delia snorts loudly, trying to muffle herself.

“So she’s standing there, very silent, and then she goes - in this teeeeeny little voice - ‘I think maybe I was dreaming’.”

Everyone howls, Hoseok especially.

“So what was on the bed?” Yoongi asks through quiet giggles.

“Like, string? Fuzz? I guess off of my pajamas?” Suz says, laughing despite herself. “God, this is so embarrassing!”

Conversation dies down naturally when your meals come, but you notice with a tummy-flutter that Taehyung doesn’t remove his knee from yours, even when he sits up straighter to work on his food.

After you eat and your plates are taken away, you all sit around sleepily as you finish your drinks.

“So, I guess it’s not really a good idea for me to come back to the campsite,” Suz announces, frowning deeply.

“It really isn’t safe,” Namjoon reasons gently. “You’re on crutches and it’s dark. You should be resting and healing - it’s hard to do that in a sleeping bag. Your body will get better faster if you let it rest well.”

“Yeah,” she says glumly.

“We’ll come pack up our stuff and we’ll head home,” Hoseok says quietly, giving the top of her back a supportive rub. “I know you’re disappointed, but it’s really what’s best.”

“I know,” she says sadly. “I know it is.”

You slowly file out of the restaurant and back to the cars. The drive back is quiet; you’re all exhausted from your day, even sleepier still from the drinks you’d had with dinner and your full bellies. You lean your head against the window, watching as the buildings of town get more and more spaced apart, until they disappear altogether giving way to dark trees. Behind the wheel, Jungkook sings quietly under his breath. Delia splays a hand on his knee.

Back at camp, Seokjin helps Hoseok start taking down the fourth tent. Yoongi eyes the empty fire pit.

“Should I bother?” he asks the group. “Or are we all just going to bed?”

“I wouldn’t mind a beer before we go to sleep,” Namjoon muses, and there’s a murmur of assent.

“Fine,” Yoongi says, but then adds threateningly, “but I swear to God if I get this whole fire going and then everyone goes to bed in fifteen minutes, I will be seriously pissed.”

“I’m gonna get changed,” you tell Delia quietly. “You want to come down with me?”

Down in the dimly lit bathroom building, you change into sweatpants and a hoodie - the night’s gotten chilly - and brush your teeth for good measure before you two head back up the hill to the campsite, arms linked, flashlight guiding you along the grassy path.

When you get back, Hoseok and Suz’s tent is down and he’s working on taking the poles apart. Yoongi seems to have the fire almost going - Jungkook kneels beside him next to the circle of rocks, both of them blowing on the embers to get them to catch.

You grab a water bottle from the cooler and settle into the chair next to Delia’s, chatting quietly. Eventually, Hoseok finishes collecting his and Suz’s belongings, and loading up his car. You all gather around the passenger side window to tell them goodbye.

They both give solemn waves goodbye as Hoseok pulls out of the campsite, heading down the road towards the exit.

You all sit around Yoongi’s campfire for a while, chatting some but mostly just zoning out, enjoying the crackling fire, the cool night air, the vague notes of music floating from somewhere else on the campground.

Seokjin is the first to bed, followed by Namjoon. Delia and Jungkook go next, disappearing into their tent with little waves goodbye.

You’re tired - you’re exhausted - your arms and legs almost buzzing with how much physical activity you did during the day. You want to go to sleep, but that requires moving. You’re half tempted to ask Jimin to carry you. You finally muster up the strength and tell the remaining guys goodbye, slipping into your tent and crawling into your sleeping bag. You fall asleep before you even zip yourself back up.

You awaken again, groggy, mouth feeling like cotton, and reach for the water bottle you’d brought. You can’t have been asleep for that long - you can still hear Jimin’s quiet giggle and the low tones of Taehyung and Yoongi’s voices as they talk quietly by the fire.

You lay there, trying to get comfortable again, trying to chase the heavy feeling of sleep, but it’s dissipated entirely. Instead, your ears strain to pick up anything Taehyung is saying, and your mind starts replaying the moments you’d shared at the quarry earlier, the feeling of his knee warm against yours at the dinner table.

Finally, you give up, sitting up completely and running a hand over your hair. You pull on the sneakers you’d left next to your sleeping bag and unzip the tent, stepping out into the flickering firelight.

The boys stop talking abruptly when they hear the zipper, and you wonder with a flush if they’d been talking about you.

“Did we wake you up?” Jimin asks as you shuffle to the cooler for another water bottle.

“I don’t think so,” you say, voice a little froggy with sleep. “I just woke up and now my brain thinks we took a good nap.”

“I hate when that happens,” Yoongi says, nodding.

Then they all just stare at you, and you at them. You definitely interrupted some sort of secret boy conversation.

“Okay,” you say, giving a huff of a laugh. “I’m going down to the lake. Just gonna… sit in the sand for a little.”

“You’ll be okay down there?” Jimin asks, a little concern in his voice. “Bring a flashlight.”

“I will,” you say, to both parts of his sentence. You grab one of the heftier flashlights off the picnic table and shove your water bottle into your hoodie pocket, heading down the hill to the lake.

You take your sneakers off at the fence at the edge of the beach, not wanting to get them full of sand. You place the flashlight beside them, so you’ll find it when it’s time to walk back. Barefoot, you continue down the beach until you pick a spot five or six feet back from the water’s edge. The water laps gently at the hardened, wet sand before you as if the lake is a sentient, breathing thing. It inhales and exhales, and so do you.

You’re not even startled when Taehyung materializes next to you, dropping onto the sand less than a foot to your left. Part of you expected him the whole time, you think.

“Hi,” you say wrly, giving him a sideways smile. He returns it sheepishly, as if he knows just how predictable this move of his was.

“Hi,” he parrots.

“You really don’t like me being down here by myself, huh?” you tease.

He blanches, eyes widening. “Do you want to be alone? I can go back up -.”

“No, no,” you reassure him. “I was just teasing.”

He looks at you, and you can tell even through the poor lighting that he’s uncertain, feeling like he’s encroaching.

“Seriously,” you say again, reaching out to touch his arm, lightly so you don’t scare him away. “I’d like you to stay. Please stay.”

He relaxes a little, and you both turn to look at the sky. It’s cloudless, and the stars are plentiful; you want to drink the entire sky in, stock up, because when you all drive back to the city at the end of this trip you’ll only see about a third of this until your next adventure. Light pollution is no joke.

For a while you just watch the sky in silence. Then Taehyung says, voice hushed, “I keep thinking about today. Doesn’t this morning feel like four whole days ago?”

You laugh a little, the sound gentle. “It does. The cliffs feel like forever ago, and the hike? That was last week, right?”

He laughs again. “I can’t believe we’re still awake,” he says, and just the thought makes him yawn, which makes you yawn.

“I napped,” you point out.

“You were only in there for like twenty-five minutes,” he says. “That barely counts.”

“I feel pretty exhausted,” you admit. “But it’s nice down here. I like this.”

He gives a hum of agreement. A minute later, when the breeze kicks up and you shiver despite the hoodie, he reaches an arm around your shoulders, pulling you against him. You hesitate for the barest second, and then lean over, letting him pull you flush against his side.

You lean your head on his shoulder and he rubs his thumb along your shoulder blade absently. You can barely feel it through the hoodie and the shirt you have underneath it, but your pulse sings anyway.

“Taehyung,” you whisper. You don’t look at him; you don’t want to chicken out. You keep your eyes on the stars, on the tiny lights across the lake where there are cabins.

“Hm?”

You give a little sigh. You know asking might break the spell. But you don’t like games. And Jungkook was right - this isn’t seventh grade. You’re adults.

“What’s happening here?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper. “What is this?”

He squeezes your shoulder once, and you turn to look up at him, waiting.

“You know, twenty-four hours ago you were barely speaking complete sentences to me?” he points out. “And now you’re just throwing down the gauntlet at my feet, like it doesn’t even scare you?”

He’s right. You consider this for a second.

“It’s different now,” you muse. “Something’s… different.”

“It’s you,” he says, like he’s trying to convince you. “You’re different today, and I really like it.”

“You didn’t like me before today?” you say, just to tease, just to twist his words on him a little.

He lets out a noise of protest. “Of course I did - in theory. You have to admit, it’s hard to like somebody who doesn’t speak! Did I think you were gorgeous? Absolutely. But I couldn’t really get to know you.”

“And what’s the verdict?” you prod.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” he quips, and you elbow him playfully in the ribs. “Okay, okay!” he laughs. “I think you’re… really capable. And smart, and funny.”

“Alright,” you say, face burning as you fight a smile. “I get the idea.”

“Do you?” he asks, turning to look down at you seriously. “I want to make sure you know - I really like you.”

You smile down at your feet, wiggling your toes happily in the sand. He lets you get away with not answering, the tiny smile you’re trying to fight telling him everything he needs to know for now. He pulls you close by the shoulder again, and you listen once again to the song of the wilderness around you: the bird calls, the rumble of car engines on the highway in the distance, the lake’s sounds as the tiniest waves roll up to the shore, Taehyung’s steady breathing beside you. The sand is soft between your toes, and Taehyung’s body is firm and warm next to you, even as the lakeside wind blows.

Finally he turns, pressing his face close to your hair. You shiver as he whispers damn nearly in your ear, “We should go back.”

You shudder again, and you know he feels it. You hope he’ll chalk it up to the wind, to the nighttime chill.

“Okay,” you say, proud of how even you keep your voice. Your hands are itching to touch him, to have him keep whispering in your ear like that, to feel his hands on you, to feel his mouth on you.

You should go back. You need to get yourself under fucking control.

He stands and holds out a hand for you, deftly pulling you to your feet in one motion. You both take a second to brush sand off, and then you head back towards the fence where you’d left your shoes and the flashlight. He’s left a pair of slip-ons right next to yours.

You’re still standing at the fence, eighty percent of your brain trying to tell you down, girl, when the remaining twenty percent takes over. Out of your mouth comes the words, “You know… in the car today, Jungkook said we needed to stop acting like idiots and do something about it. Those were his exact words.”

Taehyung freezes, one shoe halfway on, and looks at you calculatingly, as if he’s trying to determine if you’re saying what he thinks you’re saying.

You are.

Fucking kiss me. You want to scream it.

“Do something about it?” he murmurs, something low and dangerous making its way into his voice. He takes a step closer to you; you fight another shiver. This suddenly feels like a game of cat and mouse, and you hope you’ll get caught. “You have any suggestions?”

You shake your head, smiling. “Don’t do that. Don’t tease me.”

He cocks an eyebrow, then reaches forward and brushes some hair away from your face. His touch is tender, but his voice comes out like steel when he asks, “You think this is teasing? What’s wrong, you’ve been wanting this?”

“For longer than you think,” you admit, and he smiles, brushing a thumb along your cheek, his hand resting lightly along your jaw. His eyes are on your lips.

“Better not keep you waiting then,” he murmurs and dips his head to kiss you.

You drop the heavy flashlight and it rolls away from you back down the path. You both ignore it; you’re focused entirely on his lips and how electric they feel against yours, how solid and sure his mouth is against yours, how you’re trying not to gasp from sheer want as his hand on your jaw twitches like he’s trying to keep it relaxed.

You make a happy sound and relax into him as his mouth opens for you; his free hand falls to your waist, then sinks to your hip, his fingers pressing against the fabric of your hoodie.

Either he’s pulling you in or you’re leaning in or both, but there’s no space between your bodies anymore as he presses his tongue into yours, a contented noise escaping him as he does. It’s lips and teeth and tongues for a long, breathless moment, your arms hooked around the back of his neck as you press your front along his.

The hand he’d been resting on your jaw slides around, cupping the back of your neck as the kiss deepens. You whimper lightly into his mouth, wanting more of his touch, and he groans in response, his hand on your hip slipping under your hoodie and pressing against the same spot on your hips that it had been, the skin of his palm hot against yours.

He breaks away from your mouth and kisses a line down your jaw towards your neck, a heart-pounding pattern of teeth then tongue then lips as he makes his way lower and lower.

You breathe out once through your mouth, going almost boneless under his hands, and he pulls you tighter against him as he starts to work his way up to your mouth again, reversing the path he’d just taken.

You capture his mouth again as soon as it’s close enough, sliding your tongue against his insistently. You curl your fingers in his hair and tug, and he moans against you, the sound making your knees go weak like jelly. God, he sounds good; you want to do a thousand different things to keep him noisy like that.

The hand under your hoodie begins to move slowly, tracing light patterns along the curve of your hips, up to your waist, then higher towards your ribcage as his mouth continues to make you dizzy. Goosebumps rise along your arms, the back of your neck. You remember - about the same time that Taehyung figures it out - that you hadn’t thrown a bra on since the thick hoodie kept you pretty covered. He gives a tiny growl into your mouth as he brushes his fingers along the underside of your breast once, then twice, before cupping it fully, his thumb rubbing the same languid circles that it had the entire way up your side. You gasp at the contact, breaking the kiss. He takes this opportunity to press his forehead against yours, whispering hoarsely, “So soft.”

You hum in answer, reaching for his mouth again, already missing it. He passes his thumb over your hardening nipple, feather-light, and you shudder under the touch, your fingers tightening in his hair. You can feel him hardening against your belly - god he’s all legs, so tall it’s unfair - and you roll your hips against him. He groans, low in his throat, lowering both hands to your ass and pulling your hips flush against his, upping the friction. You wind a leg around the back of his, trying to get closer, trying to angle it so you get some relief, too, trusting him to hold you up. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and worries it with his teeth, smiling against you when you moan in response.

“Thought you’d be shy doing this, too,” he tells you quietly, still smiling.

You’ve thought about this? you want to ask, but instead you say, “Told you. Something’s different.”

He kisses you again, chaste, sweet, then once more for good measure. You release his hair from your deathgrip, he rubs your ass one time like he’s telling it goodbye and pulls his hands away. You’re both breathing hard.

“We should go up,” he says, regret in his voice. “I’m sure they’re talking about it already.”

“‘Kay,” you say, looking around the dark for the flashlight and water bottle you’d dropped. Would you like to keep kissing? Definitely. Is your body screaming for sleep? Yes. You can’t have both. “Do you see my stuff?”

You find the flashlight first and use it to locate the water bottle in the grass. Once you’re situated, he holds out his hand, linking his fingers with yours as he leads you up the path. Your heart pounds, not settling down even a little. In fact, holding his hand while you walk makes your heart race more than having his hands up your shirt had.

As soon as you’re close enough to see the campfire, Taehyung drops your hand and steps ahead, leading the way up to camp. You aren’t sure how to take that - was it coincidence? Or did he want to make sure that no one saw?

Jimin and Yoongi seem to be putting the fire out as you walk back into camp, a lantern on the picnic table your only real source of light. Taehyung stops to talk quietly with Jimin, so you slip past him and head to the tent. You give a quick glance over your shoulder before you enter, but no one is paying any attention to what you’re doing.

You’re still awake in your sleeping bag when the door unzips again and Taehyung and Jimin step through. Jimin’s got one of the smaller flashlights to guide them as they take off their shoes and get ready for bed. You watch Taehyung through the semi-dark, and he catches the glance, stilling.

Then, he gives you a tiny, secret smile as he turns and settles into his sleeping bag.

It’s reassuring. You think to yourself - as Jimin turns off the flashlight and leaves you all in the dark - about what Delia had said earlier, that Taehyung doesn’t play games with women, that he was straightforward with his intentions. You think about his words down at the beach less than an hour ago - I want to make sure you know, I really like you.

Whatever the weird moment upon arriving at camp was, you’re sure you’ll be able to talk about it tomorrow. You have faith that it will be okay.

You can see the general shape of him in the dark, your eyes adjusting, but you can’t see his face. You think he’s facing you, based on how close his breathing sounds. Your eyes are begging to close, your body aching for sleep. But your heart is aching too - to feel close to him again, to touch him again, to feel his warmth again.

Feeling a little silly about it, you inch your hand closer to his section of the tent, the nylon cool and stiff beneath your fingertips.

And then you aren’t touching nylon anymore.

Taehyung huffs a very quiet laugh through his nose as he feels your fingers touch his, grasping them quickly before you can pull away. Once he’s sure you aren’t going to take your hand away, he loosens his hold, gently rubbing his thumb along your knuckles, back and forth. You’re smiling in the dark, grateful that no one can see you as you grin like a fool as you give his fingers a reassuring squeeze.

He was reaching for you, too.

Things will be okay.

You awaken in the morning to something alarming: someone is standing in the tent, hovering over you. You scramble to sit, gasping in alarm, and then somebody says, “Hey, hey, it’s me, it’s okay.”

“Jimin!” you scold, pressing a hand against your chest, where your heart is pounding. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Next to you, Taehyung grumbles in his sleep. He strikes his foot out in Jimin’s direction, but he’s stopped by the confines of his sleeping bag.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jimin whispers, but he’s fighting a smile. “It’s just that you two were…”

You flush as you remember how you’d fallen asleep - your hand in Taehyung’s hand, both of you reaching across the dark to find one another. Was it possible neither of you had let go in your sleep?

Jimin seems to read an answer in your face to a question he hasn’t asked out loud. “Wow,” he says, rocking on his heels. “Wow.”

“Shut up,” you whisper, looking sideways at Taehyung’s sleeping form. You want to talk to Taehyung before you talk to anyone else about it. Jimin raises his eyebrows at you, amused, but he does what you ask and slips through the door of the tent.

You sit there for a minute, quietly, waiting to see if Taehyung will wake up and talk to you, but you hear his breathing deepen and even out again, so you decide it’s a lost cause. You dig what you want to wear out of your bag and follow Jimin’s footsteps out to the campsite.

Everyone else is up already, which makes sense seeing as they all went to bed before you and Taehyung went on your little field trip down to the lake.

“We’re leaving to hike in about ten minutes,” Delia warns you.

“I don’t know how I feel about a hike,” you admit. Your body feels like it’s been hit by a train. You’re sore from all the activity, but you also only got a few hours of sleep.

“It’s totally your call,” Jungkook tells you, “but this one is really easy. It goes up that ridge-,” he points across the lake, “then along the top, and then down the other side and around the lake to stop back here. It’s a really low slope, no rocks.”

“Basically, we’re taking a very long stroll,” Namjoon tells you.

You consider it for a second. “Alright, I’ll go down and change,” you decide. You make eye contact with Jimin. “You want to see if Sleeping Beauty wants to join us?”

Delia snorts into her fist and Jimin gives you a playful eye-roll before he heads into the tent. You hurry down the hill to the bathrooms, toothbrush in hand.

When you return, everyone seems pretty ready to go. You throw together a less aggressive backpack than you did yesterday - if it’s really a stroll, you shouldn’t need as much to eat and drink - noticing that Taehyung isn’t anywhere to be seen. Either he’s down at the bathrooms, or he told Jimin to fuck off and stayed in bed.

You sit at the picnic table, the wood already warm under your skin even though it’s still pretty early in the morning, and lace up your hiking boots. Delia sits next to you and leans against your shoulder.

“A little birdie told me that you and Taehyung were down at the lake together until after three o’clock this morning,” she whispers, eyes on you accusingly.

“Park Jimin,” you growl, eyes narrowing.

She giggles, then leans closer, lowering her voice even more so make sure the boys don’t hear you. “Nope - Min Yoongi.”

“Why are Jungkook’s friends so fucking nosy?” you grumble.

She elbows you gently. “Well?”

You don’t get the chance to answer, as Taehyung heads back up the path from the bathrooms. You snap your mouth closed and Delia looks at you knowingly.

“Later,” she tells you, standing, her voice making clear that this is absolutely a demand. Or, perhaps a threat.

Since the Blue trail loops around, there’s no need to drive to a trailhead; instead Namjoon leads you all through the campgrounds, your group weaving between tents, waving polite hellos to sleepy campers emerging from their tents to fix breakfast. At the edge of the campground, about twenty paces from the last tent, a large wooden sign announces the trailhead, along with a list of guidelines and a map.

Despite promising a stroll, the guys at the front strike a quick pace, heading up the trail. You’re happy to find that it is a gentle slope, normal dirt (no giant rock ledges), and is well shaded - the woods on either side dense with trees and various foliage.

You and Delia naturally slow down, hoping to get some space from the guys so you can gossip in peace. As he passes on your right, heading up to join Jimin near the front, Taehyung reaches over and gives a light, playful pinch to your side, making you squeal lightly before breaking into laughter.

“Watch it!” you tease, and he grins at you over his shoulder as he continues on.

Delia is watching you with wide eyes. “Okay, I need an update now,” she says.

You giggle quietly, and as you two follow the pack of guys you fill her in on what happened last night - Taehyung straight up saying he likes you, the kissing, how you fell asleep holding hands.

“That’s so cute I might throw up,” she tells you, brows furrowed - the same face Jungkook makes when the food is really good. They’re too alike, those two.

“It was kind of weird, though,” you muse quietly, aware that you have some space between you and the guys, but not that much. “When we got back to camp, Yoongi and Jimin were still up and he literally dropped my hand, like it was definitely a hide the evidence moment.”

She twists her lips, thinking. “But then he held your hand in the tent?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “So, what was that about?”

She makes a noise like she’s considering this.

“I’m just gonna ask him,” you decide. “It probably wasn’t a big deal. But just… I don’t know, I don’t want to do a stupid mixed signals thing. If he doesn’t want them knowing, we should… figure that out.”

“Can I just say,” she says, giving you an affectionate little nudge, “that I can’t believe that you’re just totally cool with that - with just asking him point blank? I think I’d be too scared to just say something like that, I’d be trying to figure shit out all covertly.”

You smile at her. “After the forty foot jump yesterday, nothing feels scary anymore,” you joke. “But… I don’t know. He feels… worth it? If this isn’t going to work, I want it to be because of a real reason. I don’t want this to stall out early because we’re too stupid to talk to each other.”

“I want it to work,” she says seriously, looping her arm through yours. “For both of you.”

The trail evens out, which must mean you’re at the top of the ridge. There’s no cool view from here - you’re still surrounded by trees on either side - but the group stops for a water break anyway.

Delia leaves you when she notices Taehyung heading over and makes her way over to Jungkook, giving his butt a playful pat in greeting. Bless her.

“Good morning,” you say, pressing the top of your water bottle into your lips to hide your stupid smile.

“Good morning,” he echoes, smiling back. “How’d you sleep?”

You shrug. “Pretty good, for the few hours we got. I don’t want to waste our last day here sleeping, but I really might need a nap.”

“We were planning to take the canoes out,” he tells you, “but we checked the weather and we’re supposed to get a pretty good storm after lunch. There’s a whole weather system passing over.”

“Oh shit,” you say, frowning. “That’s kind of a bummer.”

“We’ll make it fun,” Jimin says, shamelessly jumping into the conversation, clearly not having the sense to give you two some privacy the way Delia did. “We’ll be stuck in the tents so Yoongi and I were talking about breaking out the poker set?”

“Yes,” Yoongi says seriously from a few feet away. “Winning money off you dummies sounds like a great way to pass a rainy day.”

“I resent that,” Taehyung says with a playful frown.

“Sounds like the universe really wanted me to have a guilt-free nap,” you say, smiling. “And with the sound of rain? Heaven.”

“We should keep going, if everyone’s ready,” Namjoon tells the group, eyeing the sky above you. He’s right - the sun that had shined down on the campsite as you’d woken up is gone, heavy clouds filling the space between the treetops. “We want to get down there in time to put the tarps up.”

The trail leads you down the other side of the ridge and down to follow the natural path around the far end of the lake. At the front, Seokjin and Namjoon discuss how many tarps you have between you, and where they should go.

“We’ve got four, I think,” Namjoon says, counting in his head.

“One for each tent, and then maybe we can rig something to keep the campfire dry?” Jin says, thinking aloud.

When you get back to the campground, it’s already starting to rain just a little - a drop here and there.

You all get moving with the tarps, covering the tents first and tying them to the stakes that are already hammered into the ground, and then trying to set up the stand-alone cover for the fire. You manage to get it all done before the rain starts in earnest. Delia checks the radar on her phone.

“This is just the beginning of the system,” she warns you all. “It’ll be light rain like this for a little bit and then we’ve got the actual storm cell coming.”

Beyond the campground, the wind tangles with the trees, the leaves flipping over. Your Nana always told you that was a sign of a storm; you wonder absently if that’s true or if it’s just an old wives’ tale.

You all eat nonsense for lunch - a few people make sandwiches, some grab fruit, a bag of chips is passed around as the rain changes from “light” to “steady”. The tarp over the campfire seems to be holding up, and you all crowd your folding chairs under it, trying to stay dry.

“I think if Hobi and Suz had stayed, we wouldn’t all fit under here,” Jungkook observes, from practically your lap. The tarp definitely helps, but it’s clear that as the rain and wind pick up that you all won’t be staying comfortable and dry unless you spend the time zipped up in the tents.

“Who’s in for poker?” Yoongi asks, as he reaches for the cooler, trying to pull it over to the dry area without getting himself too wet.

Jungkook starts to speak and Delia jabs him in the ribs, shooting him a look. He closes his mouth, an amused expression settling on his face.

“I’m napping,” you announce, because this has been your plan all day. “I’m exhausted.”

“Yep, we’ll be napping, too!” Delia says brightly. You snort and she kicks you.

“I’m in for poker,” Jimin says. “I got cash especially for this, and I watched a ton of videos, so you better watch it.” This is directed at Yoongi. “I’m much better than last time.”

“Jimin,” Namjoon says kindly. “Every time you lie, you giggle.”

JImin scowls. “Maybe I’ll laugh when I don’t lie, too, then!”

“Poker’s never really been my thing,” Taehyung admits. “I think I wouldn’t mind resting either. Can I come snuggle with you guys?” he asks Jungkook, eyes glinting as he knowingly makes trouble.

“Absolutely the fuck not,” Delia says, rolling her eyes with a grin. “I’m not third-wheeling in my own damn tent.”

You pretty much all rise at the same time, folding up the camping chairs and stuffing them into their little bags. Jungkook collects them all and tosses them in the backseat of his car so they’ll stay dry.

Delia practically drags Jungkook by the hand into their tent, giving you a cheeky wave goodbye. The guys file into the third tent; Jimin pauses and looks at Taehyung. They seem to have a silent conversation - there are some eyebrows and head tilts involved - and then Jimin gives Taehyung a little salute and follows Namjoon into the tent.

Alone, the rain coming down around you, you and Taehyung stare at each other in silence. Then, he’s closing the distance between you, hands going immediately to your hair as his lips find yours. He grunts, barely audible, fingers tightening behind your head as he gets what he wants. You bring your hands up to grip at his biceps, half for balance and half because you love how they feel under your fingers.

He leads you backwards, one little step at a time, mouth working against yours, until you’re both in the rain. You can feel it in your hair, running down his arms and over your fingers, plastering your shirts to your backs. Taehyung doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, kissing you like he needs it to live. Arousal blooms low in your belly, your legs shifting with the onslaught of sparks and tingles and need.

Taehyung tears his lips away from yours long enough to whisper, “I wanted to do that all day.”

“Then you should’ve,” you challenge.

You’ve backed up all the way to your tent, and he untangles his fingers from your hair so you can bend down and unzip the door. By the time you climb in and zip back up, the spell’s been broken a little bit. Taehyung turns away from you, bending down by his sleeping bag to dig around in his duffle bag. Finally, he turns back and tosses a towel to you.

“For your hair,” he explains. “We probably shouldn’t stay in these, we’ll get sick.” He gestures at his wet shirt.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Why do I feel like you orchestrated this perfectly? Just for an excuse to take your shirt off?”

He laughs, holding up his hands to mime innocence. “No,” he protests, smiling a little. “I just genuinely couldn’t wait until we got in here to kiss you again. I haven’t thought about anything else since last night. Not even food.”

“So, what happened?” you ask, feeling bold. “We were together all morning - why wait?”

He looks at you like he’s calculating.

“I didn’t know how you felt about it,” he admits, voice quiet. You’re aware that Jungkook and Delia are about three feet away, and only separated from you by tent walls. “Like, in front of everyone. We hadn’t, uh-.” He stops, clears his throat, scratches the back of his neck and peers up at you. “We hadn’t talked about that.”

You’re slowly putting two and two together. “So last night, when we got to camp-?”

His eyes find yours. “What?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. He doesn’t even know, and here you’d been thinking about it all day.

“You stopped touching me the second we were close enough for them to see - I just felt like...”

“Oh!” he says, eyes going a little wide as he realizes how it must have seemed to you. “No! No no no - I just knew I was already going to get teased to hell for following you down there, I didn’t want to drag you into it, too. At least without talking about it first.”

“I guess I appreciate that,” you say, fighting a smile.

He shakes his head. “As if I’d subject you to the chaos gremlin Park Jimin without your consent. And Yoongi acts like he’s above it, but that guy gossips. He’s worse than my mom.”

You giggle a little. Taehyung shivers visibly and says, “Okay, I really do need to change out of this. You should, too. I can- um- I can turn around, if you want, or-?”

He’s babbling a little, and it strikes you that he’s nervous. Taehyung, Kim Taehyung, the guy whose mere presence had made you stumble over words and forget how your hands worked, is nervous about you.

Warmth and happiness rise within you, almost enough to eradicate the chill from your rain-soaked tank top. It’s reassuring, and cute, and it somehow - impossibly - makes you want him even more.

He shuts up, flushing a tiny bit, and reaches for the hem of his shirt. He turns a little, like he wants to make sure you don’t have to look at his belly - as if you hadn’t all been swimming the day before - but you step closer as he pulls the thin material over his head.

“Want to give me a hand?” you murmur. Taehyung’s eyes shoot to yours, unsure. Around you, above you, the rain redoubles its efforts. The walls of the tent shudder and tremble under the onslaught of wind and rain. Distantly, you hear the first rumbles of thunder.

Then he steps the rest of the way to you, dropping his discarded t-shirt to the tent floor, reaching to take the towel out of your hands. He drapes it over his shoulder and reaches for the hem of your tank-top, his eyes steady on yours. He peels it away from your skin, up over your ribs, over your breasts. You raise your arms so he can pull it over your head.

You reach around to undo the clasps of the sports bra you’d worn for the hike, but he swats at your hands, going for it himself.

“This one likes to get stuck,” you warn him, smiling.

“I got it,” he assures you, full of confidence, and he’s right - you can feel the clasp give and then he’s sliding the straps down your arms - one, then the other. He gives it a light toss over to your sleeping bag, and then takes the towel off of his shoulder. He’s been watching you the entire time - for signs of uncertainty, or just because he wants to, you aren’t sure - and he doesn’t stop now as he gently dries your arms, your shoulders, your belly, carefully under and around each breast, then around and down your back.

“How’s that?” he murmurs, dropping his hands.

“Drier,” you smile, “but still chilly.”

“Well, that’s unacceptable,” he says playfully, voice so low. You’re about to shuffle into his arms when you’re surprised by a flash outside. The lightning bolt is followed quickly by a sharp, angry crack of thunder.

You gasp instinctively, then chuckle at yourself. Taehyung smiles at you indulgently and then crouches by his sleeping bag, messing with the zipper. You peer around him to see that he’s unzipping it completely, and then he shakes it out to increase the amount of floor it covers. Instead of standing, he plops down in the center, legs stretched out before him. He looks up at you, head cocked, like a delectable invitation.

Another crack of thunder spurs you into movement, shakes you from your reverie, and you straddle his lap easily, your hands finding his shoulders for balance. He’s kissing you again before you’re even settled in, his tongue stroking yours as his hands splay wide across your back. You shiver into his embrace, your chilly body aching for the warmth that radiates from him. You don’t know if you should blame the cold or the excitement, but your nipples are impossibly hard, and Taehyung moans quietly into your mouth as he feels them brush against the flat of his own chest as you press your body against his.

One hand comes around from your back to cup a breast - the one he’d neglected last night at the lake, as if he’s been keeping score and knows where his attention was lacking. He breaks the kiss to nibble a gentle line down your jaw, his fingers pressing at your flesh, his thumb rubbing circles against the hardened pebble it finds there. When you whine, he turns his head so he can whisper closer to your ear, “Shhh, beautiful.”

You nod, sucking in a quiet breath, and he continues kissing you, continues tracing shapes with his thumb, sending shocks and sparks down the length of your spine as you roll your hips over his.

The storm has found you in full, thunder cracking and snapping above the tent, barely seconds of silence before another rumble gives its reply. Taehyung’s beautiful face glows white and then dark again as lightning strikes somewhere nearby.

The rain and wind act as music, guiding your pace as you continue to kiss. You kiss him until your head spins, until your lips burn, until your core aches. You run your hands up his back, down his sides. He twists under your touch, choking back a giggle, and you realize you’ve tickled him. You place your hands flat over the spot, your touch firm enough to quell the sensation.

“Sorry,” you whisper, giggling a little. He answers you with a kiss, one hand still holding you in place in the middle of your back, the other leaving your chest and tangling in your hair again. You find your hands trailing down his chest, between your bodies, landing on the button of his shorts.

His hand flies to your wrist, and you stop, looking at him quizzically.

He lets out a tiny huff of a laugh, shaking his head. “Sorry,” he says. “Half of me hates myself for this… but, I don’t want our first time to be… on a sleeping bag… in a tent… four feet away from Jeon Jungkook. I want to do it right - do it better.”

You can’t help it - you release a tiny laugh, giggling into his neck. Again - who let him be so cute?!

He leans back so he can peer at you, accusatory. “Are you laughing at me?” he cries.

“No,” you assure him, even though you were, a little bit. “I just didn’t know you’d be so… considerate.”

He pouts adorably, his hands coming to rest on your hips, just above the band of your leggings. “I appreciate the art of romance,” he sniffs defensively and you giggle again.

He gives another defensive sniff at your giggle. Then, almost bashful, he asks, “Lay with me?”

He reaches for a loose blanket from on top of Jimin’s sleeping bag - he’d been cold the night before, stealing spare blankets from the car. You shift off of his lap and he snaps the blanket to spread it out, laying back on his pillow and patting the space next to him. As you slide in beside him, smiling softly, he pulls the blanket up over both of you, rolling to curl up against your back. The feeling of him behind you, warm and solid, is enough to send your mind skipping and singing into oblivion. How can you feel so happy over something so simple?

“Well,” you say quietly, as he brushes some hair off of your neck and presses his lips sweetly to the spot he’d uncovered, “on the topic of romance… last night I asked you what’s happening with us, what this is. You never answered.”

He considers this, tightening his arms around you. “I guess I got distracted,” he admits, still nuzzling the back of your neck, sending goosebumps racing down your arms even though you two had cooled it down. “I’ve been told I have a one track mind. And you weren’t wearing a bra.”

You giggle. “That’s fair,” you allow. “But I’d still… like to know.”

He shifts behind you, warming his legs against yours. Another crack of thunder, further to the east, makes you jump, and he smoothes a hand down your arm.

“I’m pretty open to the options,” he says finally. “I want to see where this goes, but I’m okay with whatever pace you want. If you want to go home and just talk, we can do that. Or if you want to try dating - I mean, I’d like to take you out. If… you want that.”

You reach up to where his hand is resting on your upper arm and lace your fingers together, giving him a squeeze.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I’d like that.”

His hand is reassuring in yours, his arm warm and solid around you. Slowly, you let the cadence of his breathing and the steady pattern of rainfall lull you into sleep.

The morning mood is cheerful and bustling as everyone takes down the tents and packs up the cars, but you feel a bit like you have a heavy heart. While you are definitely looking forward to a real shower and a night in your own bed, you also don’t want to go back to reality, back to work and your apartment and a whole world that until now spun merrily along without Taehyung in it. You want to stay optimistic, but you wonder if going home will pull the inertia away from whatever has started between you.

Your nap the previous evening had been interrupted by Jimin, coming to tell you that the rain had moved on and Seokjin was starting a fire for grilling. He’d squealed, a hand over his eyes, as soon as he saw you two spooning.

(“Tell me you’re not naked!” he’d cried, which of course had gotten everyone else’s attention. And, well, you were - from the waist up, at least.

“Chaos gremlin,” Taehyung had growled as he reached over to grab your bag so you could find a t-shirt, the blanket clutched to your chest.)

Taehyung spends much of the morning needling Namjoon to let him ride shotgun; he’d ridden up with Suz and Hoseok, so he had to ride home in Yoongi’s car.

“My legs are too long for the back seat!” Namjoon protests. “I have to sit like a crab!”

“You love crabs!” Taehyung counters. “And my legs are just as long!”

Namjoon pats him on the head placatingly. “I know you like to think that, buddy. But they’re really not.”

Delia helps you carry the cooler back to your own car, sliding it onto the backseat, and then you both go back to get your bags and camping chairs. Taehyung stands by the backseat of Yoongi’s car - accepting his defeat, you guess - and jerks his head when you catch his eyes.

You toss your bag onto the floor of the backseat, and then shuffle over, pouting playfully.

He gives you a smile and takes your wrist, pulling you closer.

“Why are you sad?” he asks.

“I have to go back to work tomorrow,” you lament.

He laughs out loud. “That’s the whole reason?”

You shrug. “I’m gonna miss Seokjin’s shitty cowboy coffee.”

He crosses his arms, biting on his bottom lip to keep his smile at bay. “That’s why you’re sad, huh? That’s your story?”

You smile up at him, caught in your game. “I guess I’m just hoping we really do see this through.”

He looks at you seriously now, arms coming uncrossed. “We will,” he promises. “I told you I want to take you out. I’ll text you as soon as we’re back to set it up.”

“Okay,” you say, voice small, mouth twisting. “If you say so.”

“Trust me,” he says. He pulls you in for a sweet, soft kiss, then tells you, “Scratch that - I’ll text you as soon as I miss you.”

This makes you laugh a little. “Okay,” you say again. “Looking forward to it.”

He goes to help handle the last of the heavier items and you and Delia do a last sweep to make sure you hadn’t left any garbage or recyclables hiding anywhere. Once everything is certainly squared away, everyone calls goodbye to one another and you all head into your respective cars.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” you say, sticking your phone in its little dock and pulling up your map. “Two and a half hours home.”

“Let’s get it,” Delia grins.

Yoongi’s car pulls out first, then Jungkook’s, and you follow. At the exit, each car stops at a stop sign, then takes a left onto the two-lane highway. As you pull up to the stop sign, a notification pops up on your phone, overtaking the map for a split second.

[10:45 AM] Kim Taehyung: hey beautiful. what are you doing friday night?

(definition graphic by my dearest darlingest @/kookstempo)

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this, please consider leaving some form of feedback!

You can also find the rest of my work here on my Masterlist :)

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whytheylosttheirminds · 2 months ago

Text

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 2

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 4.9k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

After weeks of all-nighters and cramming for finals, sleeping in on your first morning at the beach house felt incredible. It was only 9:30 when you finally stirred in the comfy bed, but it felt late in the day.

Coming down the stairs in your pjs and slippers, you smiled at the sound of your sister’s voice, joking around with her old friends. Your goal this trip was for her to have a good time, and despite the emotional rollercoaster of seeing Rafe yesterday, at this moment, you were glad you decided to stay. You entered the room to see half the house was awake, though neither Rafe or Tom had made an appearance yet.

“Ladies and gentleman, it’s Kerri Walsh Jennings!” Topper deepened his voice like a sports announcer when you entered the kitchen. The few people who were up all turned to you, playfully bowing and applauding like you were a true Olympian. You grinned and rolled your eyes, surprised at how comfortable you felt with the unprecedented attention.

Topper was at the stove flipping pancakes for everyone’s breakfast, wearing an apron that said “kiss the cook.” As you approached the kitchen island to grab a stool next to your sister, he leaned over, holding the spatula like a microphone.

“So tell us, Kerri, now that you’ve won the gold what will you do next?”

“Well, Top,” you played along. “First, I’m going to get some coffee…then I’m going straight to Disneyland!”

Everyone in the kitchen laughed, making the tips of your ears turn red. No one ever laughed at your jokes in high school, not that you were confident enough to make many. Rafe would tell you sometimes that you were funny, so long as no one was around to hear him admit it.

“Well I can help you with the first part,” Topper said, grabbing a mug and the coffee pot.

“Wow, so domestic of you, Topper,” you teased as he poured your steaming coffee in front of you.

“He’s our house mother,” Carter said, smiling wide at Topper who did a jokey little curtsy motion. Clearly this was a running joke between them.

Topper handed you a plate of pancakes, which Kelce promptly reached over your shoulder to steal.

“Since when are you such an athlete?” Kelce asked, his mouth already full with your breakfast.

You told them all about your team at school, surprised out of your mind that everyone was actually listening intently.

Rafe woke up groggy and sore, ducking his head as he walked through the basement and made his way up the rickety steps. As he reached for the handle of the door which opened into the kitchen, he smiled at the sound of your voice on the other side. His smile quickly faded when he heard Kelce interrupt you with, “Yeah and you kicked Rafe’s ass, too, made him your bitch.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

Every head in the kitchen whipped towards the sound of Rafe’s voice as he emerged, except for yours. You shuffled slightly on your stool and sipped your coffee. Rafe didn’t miss the way you were ignoring him, his eyes grazing quickly over the smoothe skin of your shoulders before redirecting to anything he could find.

“Cute apron, Top,” he landed on.

“Thanks man,” Topper said, ignoring his mocking tone. “Want some flapjacks?”

“Ew, who calls them flapjacks?” Carter burst out laughing.

“Well now you don’t get any,” Topper scolded, pulling her plate away from her and handing it to Rafe.

“I don’t want ‘em if Carter’s put her mouth near them,” Rafe mocked. “We don’t know where she’s been.”

“Says the guy who licked the gym floor in seventh grade,” you said quietly.

The entire room came to a halt, everyone surprised at the sound of you joining in on the teasing. No one had actually heard you address Rafe yet. The awkwardness hung in the air, all eyes going wide as they waited to see if the notorious hothead was going to be able to take what he was dishing out. You just picked at your pancakes with your fork and hoped everyone would move on, but Rafe smirked at you, a playful twinkle in his eye.

“That was on a dare,” he defended himself.

When you finally looked up at him, your stomach twisted into a knot as you noticed how cute he looked in his white undershirt and grey sweats, messy bedhead and sleepy eyes. You immediately regretted acknowledging that you remembered something he did so long ago. Now, he was looking at you with something like excitement, smug that you were talking to him, like your big triumph the day before had never happened.

“Oh, I didn’t remember that part.” It was a lie, you remembered everything he ever said or did.

Rafe’s face dropped at your impassive tone, his brief window of hope that all was forgiven slammed shut.

To your great relief, Tom chose that moment to enter the room, drawing the attention away from you and Rafe. He had apparently been out on a run, and his under armor shirt, wet with sweat, clinged to his form to reveal a sculpted chest below.

“How we doin’ everyone?” His cheery voice boomed. He slapped Topper on the back before giving Kelce a frat bro handshake across the counter. “What do we have here?” He whistled appreciatively at the spread Topper had put out.

As Topper rattled on about the many flavors and shapes of pancakes he could offer, Tom looked over at you with a cheeky smile and mouthed “good morning!” You smiled back with a little wave, butterflies erupting in your stomach at the way he was singling you out.

After the volleyball game last night, you’d all gone to a seafood restaurant on the water. Tom had chosen the seat next to you, and made extremely pleasant dinner company. He asked you all about yourself, about school and what you were planning for the future. He was a great listener, and you were so glad to have someone to chat normally with without the baggage of your childhood hanging over your head. You hoped the week would hold many more cozy conversations with him.

Unbeknownst to you, Carter was watching as you smiled at him in the kitchen, and so was Rafe. They had very different looks on their face as they realized at the same moment that something was happening between you and Tom.

After Topper and Kelce reclaimed Tom’s attention, talking over each other about their plans to go fishing later, Carter squeezed your elbow and motioned with a nod for you to follow her out onto the patio.

“Ummm, okay, what was that?” Carter asked with arched eyebrows once you were settled on the patio couch next to her.

“Oh my god I know. I shouldn’t have said anything, do you think everyone will think it’s weird I remember something he did in seventh grade?” You asked worriedly.

Carter scrunched her brows in confusion for a minute before waving you off with her hand. “Oh, no not Rafe, he’s old news. I’m talking about your little moment with Tom!”

“Oh, uh,” you cleared your throat, embarrassed that you were still lingering on Rafe when she clearly wasn’t. “I don’t know, he’s nice.”

“He’s fucking gorgeous is what he is,” she fanned herself theatrically.

“Are you into him?” Your stomach dropped at the thought that she might be interested. In your eyes, Carter always had first pick, and surely if Tom thought she was interested he’d choose her over you in a heartbeat.

“No,” she shook her head. “I’m having too much fun messing with Topper.”

You laughed hard at that, “yeah, I noticed. Are you two back on again?”

“Maybe,” she shrugged. “You think if I play my cards right I could get him to propose?”

“I think you could probably get him to do just about anything,” you chuckled.

“Okay, then it’s settled, I’ve got Topper and you,” she poked at your side and you swatted her hand away, “will make a move on Tom.”

“I don’t know about ‘make a move,” you took a long sip of your coffee, suddenly anxious.

Carter eyed you curiously, recognizing the insecurity she hoped you had left behind now that things were going so well. She didn’t understand how you still couldn’t see how amazing you are, but she was determined to prove it to you by the end of this trip.

Rafe did his best not to stare at you through the sliding door, but when he heard your melodic laugh float in through the screen, he couldn’t help the way his head snapped toward the sound, wishing desperately that it was him making you laugh like that. You used to laugh at all his jokes, and he’d taken it for granted. The sad thing was, he actually loved hanging out with you. You had a great sense of humor, and he always felt so comfortable when it was just you and him. He knows now he should’ve just called it what it was, been with you in public too. But he had so many eyes on him back then, and he was worried what people would think. Plus, he knew you’d stick by him even if he treated you like shit, and he took advantage of that. He kicked himself mentally, feeling like a Grade A chump while you sat there, looking beautiful in the ocean breeze, smiling through the window at some guy you’d met yesterday.

As he lost himself in his thoughts, Topper noticed him staring at you, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

“She looks good, huh?” He asked Rafe.

“What?” Rafe shook his head as if he could erase the thoughts that were plaguing him. “Who?”

“Oh, come on,” Topper nodded towards you and Carter on the deck.

“I dunno,” Rafe tried to play it off. “She looks the same I guess, a little different.”

“Bro,” Topper gave him an incredulous look. “She’s a fucking smokeshow. You’re into her, don’t even try and fool me.”

“If you're so into her, why don’t you go for her?” Rafe snapped at him.

Topper shook his head, “maybe because I’m not the one she was obsessed with for a decade.”

“She wasn’t obsessed with me,” Rafe protested. “We were friends.”

“Right,” Topper said sarcastically. “And I was a number one draft pick. Dude, she was in love with you, everyone knew it.”

Rafe leaned forward on the counter, propped on his elbows, looking down at his uneaten pancakes with a frown. His stomach twisted with guilt. Of course everyone knew, he knew it too. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t use your adoration of him to his advantage from time to time. Okay, all the time. He couldn’t really blame you for still being mad at him, he was a dick. But he liked to think he’d grown some since then, not that you had any reason to give him a chance to prove it.

“I think she’s into your buddy, Dom, or whatever his name is,” Rafe grumbled.

“First of all,” Topper pointed the spatula at him, “you know his name is Tom. And second of all, I love the guy, but he’s got nothing on you. Give me one day, she’ll be back.”

“Don’t do anything weird, man,” Rafe warned, cringing at the thought of what kind of damage an unsupervised Topper could inflict.

“Don’t worry dude, I got it handled,” Topper assured him.

Rafe just chuckled and sipped his coffee, knowing this was a losing battle, “whatever you say, Top.”

The door slid open and you and Carter reentered the kitchen. Tom stood from his place at the little breakfast nook when you walked in, and you were relieved that he ended his conversation with Maddie and Sabrina so abruptly at the sight of you. He smiled down at you before heading into the kitchen to help Topper clean up. Rafe was noticeably not helping, sitting at the counter scrolling on his phone.

“No phones,” Carter said, swiping it from him.

“Give it,” he held his large hand out to her, jaw ticking with annoyance.

“C’mon Rafe, don’t you want to live in the present?” She badgered.

He tried to grab it quickly, but she lifted it above her head, tossing it to Kelce on the other side of the counter, who tossed it to Topper, and the game of hot potato continued, much to Rafe’s chagrin.

“Y’all are children,” he scowled, sitting back on the stool in defeat.

“Who are you even texting? All your friends are here,” Carter jeered.

“I was looking up directions to the grocery store, seeing as there’s no fucking food in this house besides beer, and apparently pancake mix,” Rafe explained.

“No need,” Topper said. “Tom, Kelce and I are spending the day on the water and we’ll grab some stuff on the way back.”

Carter frowned at the thought of both of your boys being gone the whole day, leaving little to distract you from Rafe. This wouldn’t do.

“No, you can’t go out today, we're having a cookout!” She announced to the room.

“We are?” Kelce scratched his head.

“Yes, we are,” Carter nodded confidently, wrapping her arm around Topper’s waist, which you knew was all it would take to get him to agree. “And mom here is going to grill for us.”

“Oh am I?” Topper asked, eyebrows raised in amusement, not exactly protesting.

“Yes, so someone else will need to go get the food,” Carter continued. You knew her well enough to see that a whole plan was unfolding in her head. “Sissy, why don’t you go?”

“That’s…fine,” you agreed reluctantly, narrowing your eyes at her, trying to figure out her play. “I need someone to go with me though, we’ll need a lot of stuff.”

Carter and Topper smiled in sync, both thinking they’d just come up with the best idea anyone has ever had.

At the same moment that Carter blurted out, “Tom can go with you!” Topper loudly suggested, “Rafe can take you!”

Your lips forming a tight line, you gave them both an exasperated look. Their heads snapped toward each other, eyeing each other suspiciously. Rafe scratched the back of his neck, annoyed at Topper for butting in and hating himself for hoping you’d choose to go with him and not Tom.

Tom, meanwhile, was watching all four of you from the corner of the room, never more confused in his life.

“It’s cool,” he said hesitantly, the awkwardness palpable. “All three of us can go.”

“Fine, but I’m driving,” Rafe stood from his seat. “Can I have my phone back now please?”

He reached his hand to Kelce, who was the last to have it. Kelce panicked, wanting to keep the game going, and tossed it to you. You very nearly dropped it, letting it bounce between your hands but eventually securing it before it fell.

You just looked at it in your hands, then up to Rafe and Tom, searching for any way out of what was sure to be an uncomfortable outing without being rude. You came up with nothing.

“I guess I’ll go get dressed,” you handed Rafe his phone, making Kelce shake his head at you in disappointment.

The hum of the truck’s engine was the only sound in the car for a solid five minutes. You sat in the front seat, Tom having opened your door for you, while Rafe drove. You suddenly couldn’t remember what people do with their hands when they’re not driving. Where the hell do you put your hands? Tom’s voice cut through your internal panic.

“So, uh Rafe, Top says you went to Chapel Hill?” He inquired, sitting forward in the backseat so his head appeared between you and Rafe,

“Still do,” Rafe said curtly.

You looked at Rafe for the first time since pulling out of the beach house driveway. You wanted to ask him why he hadn’t graduated on time, always more invested in his academics than he was, but you were trying to pretend you didn’t care.

“Nice, man,” Tom tried to keep the conversation going. “I applied there, it’s hard to get in.”

“I guess I just hit the books a little harder than you then,” Rafe shrugged.

A scoff escaped you before you had the chance to stifle it. Rafe’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.

“What was that?” Rafe looked sideways at you for a moment.

“Nothing,” you crossed your arms over your chest.

“No, please share,” he prodded. You couldn’t believe he was copping an attitude with you.

“It’s just, I’m sure your last name had nothing to do with your acceptance,” you quipped.

Rafe’s jaw clenched and you smirked in satisfaction, pleased that you had gotten under his skin. Tom’s eyes flicked between the two of you, trying to decipher the vibe.

You were glad he didn’t try to attempt any further small talk. Once you got to the grocery store, you divided the shopping list three ways and split up to your designated aisles. You filled your cart as fast as you could, eager to get this shopping trip over with.

After checking everything off your list, you rounded the corner of the produce section toward the registers, your cart nearly crashing into Rafe’s. His entire shopping cart was filled with alcohol. You laughed at the sight.

“What?” Rafe asked defensively.

“What are the rest of us gonna drink?” You smirked.

“Shut up,” he grinned. “It’s not all for me.”

“Okay but where is the stuff you were supposed to get?”

“It’s under there somewhere,” he mused.

“Sure,” you just shook your head with a smile and kept walking towards the register.

“Shit, wait,” Rafe rolled his cart to you and ran back down one of the aisles.

“No don’t worry about me, I got it,” you muttered to yourself bitterly.

You started pushing both carts but Rafe appeared quickly at your side again.

“Got it,” he breathed, adding one more thing to his cart.

It was a case of Redbull. You shifted on your feet uncomfortably, looking down into his cart. Redbull was his drink of choice in high school, you used to buy him one every day and bring it to him after practice, like a puppy fetching the morning paper. Rafe eyed you nervously, your soured expression leading him to believe you remembered just as well as he did.

“Old habits die hard, huh?” You joked, trying to break the tense moment.

“Yeah, can’t seem to kick that one,” he replied, relieved that you were the first to acknowledge it.

Tom caught up with you at check-out, his cart actually full of the things he was supposed to get. The three of you unloaded your goods to be rung up by a 16-year-old cashier who could not have been more annoyed that you had chosen his register.

Tom jumped in to help bag the groceries, chatting happily with the bag boy as he assisted. Rafe, however, stood there staring at his phone.

After you finished emptying your cart, you watched Tom with a smile while he charmed the grocery store staff. Rafe looked up from his screen with a frown, stomach dropping when he saw that you were watching Tom with an affectionate smile.

“Is that everything?” The cashier asked hopefully.

You were about to say "yes" and also maybe "sorry" when Rafe cut you off.

“No wait, these too,” he reached toward the shelf and grabbed your favorite candy, looking at you expectantly as he handed it to the cashier.

“Your favorite,” he explained bashfully at the sight of your furrowed brows.

“Yeah, it is,” you agreed. “Just surprised you remember. Thanks.”

You looked at him for a moment longer than you should, your eyes lingering on each other’s as you shared another silent memory. You felt a twinge of nostalgia that you knew you shouldn’t.

While you and Rafe looked at each other, Tom pulled out his black card and entered it into the machine. Rafe noticed a moment too late and scrambled to pull his wallet from his pocket, fumbling for his credit card.

“Oh no, hey man, I was gonna get it,” Rafe finally pulled out the credit card he was looking for but Tom was already signing the screen with his finger.

“No worries dude,” Tom brushed him off politely. “You can get me back later this week.”

Rafe was the most competitive person you knew, and the richest, surely he wasn’t going to let another guy pay for everything and walk away. He opened his mouth like he was going to argue with Tom, but with a glance back at you he closed it again. Then he carried as many bags to the car as one person could possibly hold, mumbling something like "multiple trips are for pussies."

Another fifteen minutes of painful silence might just make your head explode, you thought. The second you were back in the truck, the bed overflowing with groceries, you asked Rafe for the aux.

“What are you gonna play?” He sideyed you as he held it just out of reach. You leaned across the console to snatch it from his hands, and he felt pins and needles where your hand had brushed him. He wondered if you realized it was the first time you'd touched each other in four years.

The two of you had always fought over the aux, you’d eventually give in to his pouting and listened to his shitty house mixes and soundcloud rappers.

“Don’t worry about it,” you waved him off with a grin.

Four years ago, you would have been way too nervous to play what you truly wanted to listen to, afraid Rafe wouldn’t think it was cool enough. But now, you pressed play on your go-to playlist with gusto and beamed when your absolute favorite song started booming through his subwoofers.

Rafe tried to keep his eyes on the road, but he couldn’t stop them from dancing back over to you as you sang along happily to your music. You rolled the window down, letting the humid Florida air raise your hair in a wave around you. You giggled and tried to tame it, eventually giving up and letting it whip around your face.

There was something so light about you. Something joyful and at peace. He placed both hands on the steering wheel, trying to ground himself, jealous of your carefree spirit. Whatever intangible thing you had managed to capture in your years apart, he wanted it. And it hit him like a lightning bolt, a bittersweet truth he had fought for so many years - he wanted you.

One song rolled into the next, and Rafe searched for something to say to keep up the almost-friendly banter you had begun in the store, but before he could come up with anything, Tom sat forward suddenly.

“Oh hey I love this song!” Tom informed you.

“Me too!” You turned to smile at him, and Rafe listened enviously as you and Tom chatted about the many favorite artists you have in common the rest of the way home.

The house was quiet when you returned, everyone either taking their daily hangover nap or down lounging by the beach. Rafe’s hands turned white from once again carrying as many plastic bags as he could. You tried not to laugh, and tried not to notice the way his biceps bulged under his tight t-shirt, but you failed at both.

“Are you laughing at me again?” He raised his eyebrows in amusement, placing the bags on the counter. “What is it this time?”

“Sorry, you’re just so helpful all of a sudden,” you pointed out with a smirk.

“Well bag boy over there wasn’t helping,” he nodded towards the patio, where Tom was taking a phone call.

“He said it’s a work call,” you defended him. “He just got a job in New York apparently, a Wall Street thing.

“Whatever,” Rafe mumbled. What he wanted to say was “since when are you two best friends?” but he had already been fairly gruff with you today and he was trying to refocus on his goal of getting you to like him again.

You and Rafe put the groceries away in silence for a while. You tried to find the right way to approach the question you were dying to ask, failing to convince yourself you didn't care about the answer.

“So,” you started nervously. “You didn’t graduate this year?”

Rafe’s shoulders tensed as he tried to make more room in the pantry.

“Nope,” he said shortly.

“Did you take some time off?”

He was torn between being glad that you were talking to him and mad that this was the topic you’d chosen to break the ice with.

“No, I-uh,” he cleared his throat. “I failed a couple classes my first year so I’m still a few credits behind.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said, leaning down to put the ribs for the cookout in the large freezer.

“It’s my own fault,” he shrugged. “I was an idiot back then.”

When you stood from the freezer to grab another rack of ribs, you were surprised to see Rafe standing close, his body looming as he looked down at you.

“I was an idiot before then, too,” he continued, voice low and uncertain.

Everything in your mind went fuzzy as the blood rushed to your face. This was the first time you could smell him, and it familiarity of his scent made you feel like you were being transported back in time. You fought the urge to inhale deeply, greedy for the rush of him filling your senses.

“Before then?” You blinked up at him.

Rafe struggled to find his next words. It took everything in you not to fill in the blanks for him, like you were back in high school slipping him the answers to a test he hadn’t studied for. But this time, you needed him to find the answers all on his own. You swallowed hard, leaving silence for the words he was searching for.

Before he could find them, Topper and Carter came barreling into the kitchen, mid-argument as always. They stopped short when they saw the scene in front of them. Rafe stepped away from you so quickly you could feel a woosh of wind in his wake. It was eerily reminiscent of your teenage years, Rafe separating himself from you as soon as there was anyone around to see you together.

“Everything okay?” Carter asked tensely, noticing the way your shoulders had fallen.

“Fine,” Rafe said, tossing the rest of the plastic bags in the trash and heading down the stairs to his basement bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him.

“Damn, you two did good,” Topper said, admiring the cornucopia of food you’d brought back.

“You three,” Carter corrected. “Tom went too.”

She walked up next to you and lowered her voice, a sly smile on her face, “and how did it go with Tom?”

You didn’t match her playful mood, completely preoccupied thinking about the moment you and Rafe had just shared. Was he about to apologize to you? What would you have let him do if your sister and psuedo-brother-in-law had entered the room just a minute later?

“It was fine,” you said distractedly, closing the fridge and heading upstairs to your room.

Carter turned on her heel and looked at Topper with a frown, shocked to find him beaming back at her.

“What are you smiling for?” She snarled.

“Oh nothing, seems like my plan is working is all,” he grinned. “They were standing awfully close when we walked in.”

“Your plan?” She stepped closer to him, arms crossed. “What are you up to Thornton?”

“Just playing a little Cupid,” he smiled proudly.

“Okay well you can go ahead and put down the bow and arrow, because I’ve already got that covered,” she informed him.

“Really?” He asked in surprise. “I thought you hated Rafe.”

“Rafe? Ew, no, I’m talking about Tom, obviously,” she snapped.

“Your sister and Tom? Nahhh, do you not see how she and Rafe have been looking at each other? It’s so obvious,” he scoffed.

“You know what else is obvious? That Rafe’s still a dick and he doesn’t deserve her,” Carter argued.

“He’s actually grown up a lot,” Topper said, surprising Carter with the serious shift in his tone. “He’s been through some stuff, college hasn’t been easy for him. He could use a win.”

Carter considered this, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy the years of bitterness she held for Rafe.

“Well, he had his chance. He had millions of chances with her and he fumbled every one,” she said.

“I know he did, but under it all he’s a good person. And I think good people deserve second chances,” Topper explained.

“Not when they hurt my sister,” she concluded. “I won’t allow it.”

Topper's eyes creased with his smile as he looked down at her, loving her steely look and pursed lips as she put her hands on her hips.

“You’re still so bossy,” he smiled, sliding closer to her until their chests were nearly touching. “I know we’re supposed to be fighting, but it’s kinda hot.”

He leaned forward to plant a little kiss on her lips, like he’d done a million times before. Carter leaned back, leaving his puckered lips hanging.

“Oh no,” she pushed him back, making him frown. “You don’t get to touch me until you join Team Tom.”

“Nuh-uh! Team Rafe for life baby,” he crossed his arms to match her stance, recovering quickly, more than used to being rejected by her.

She studied him suspiciously, wondering how quickly he’d crack if she actually withheld their inevitable beach trip hook-up. But he didn’t budge, he was as serious about this as she was.

“Fine,” she said. “The game is so on.”

(Chapter 3)

a/n: so tell me... are we Team Tom or Team Rafe?

also, I'm historically terrible at taglists and they give me technical trouble because I'm 89 years old so sorry if I forget you or mess it up but I will tag anyone who requested in the replies because I soooo appreciate your support you have no idea 💘 for notification on when I post fics pls follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs if you're into that kinda thing! 😘

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