#they'd probably drown in their own mess and die within the first year

[mirrerover]

i'been thinkin abuot domestic taeekook a lot lately. like everyone is always about domestic hyung line but i think domestic taekook could be super cute. just wondering what u thought. sry for bothering you omg just ignore me.

It’s only six when Jeongguk stumbles through the front door but it feels like eight, maybe even nine in the evening. The time dilation effects of winter: snowy commutes, shorter days, grating conversations with college advisors as his exam results trickle in. It’s throbbing at the back of Jeongguk’s head, the greyness of the season trying to sink under his skin.

It makes him slow and stupid, shoes adding more scuff marks to the wall as he kicks them off without grace. Doesn’t matter. Taehyung doesn’t care about clean walls either.

They’re similar that way, Jeongguk and Taehyung. A little thoughtless and a lot of messy. Like Taehyung’s crap strewn all over their tiny kitchentable, piles of papers and stickers and multi-coloured pens. Taehyung isn’t a child of winter either.

“How’re the tests going?” Jeongguk asks, shuffling his way to the couch. An ugly old thing with stains and burn marks and permanent indentations in the shape of their asses.  

“Going.” Debatable, Jeongguk thinks, since Taehyung’s in the corner of their ugly couch and his stuff is on their cramped kitchen table. He’s in sweats and a hoody, sock-clad feet on the crate doubling as a coffee table, and eyes on the TV hooked up to their game console. A first-person-shooter but the way he’s killing people is lacklustre at best. “Still can’t believe they’re making me grade four-year-olds, man. ‘S just wild.”

“Hmm,” Jeongguk murmurs, dropping down onto the couch beside him. “‘S crazy.”

“Half of them are gonna cry again. Still in the single digits and already heading for a burnout.”

“That’s messed up.” Jeongguk shifts minutely, ass settling into its personal dent, until Taehyung’s body is a comfortable warm line against his side. “The little humans got it rough. I feel their plight.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung says. He turns without looking, placing a kiss on the side of Jeongguk’s head that lands more on his eyebrow than his temple. “Super rough.” He has set his character up on a rooftop somewhere, picking off enemy soldiers as they wander by, not advancing the game. Mindless and stupid. Jeongguk’s tempted to join him.

“Order in?” Taehyung asks after Jeongguk watched the fifth body drop, head slumped to the side on Taehyung’s shoulder.

“What about that stuff your mum sent over?”

“Nah. Ate it for lunch.”

“Oh,” Jeongguk says, digging his nose into Taehyung’s hoody. He smells like laundry detergent and strawberry shampoo. “The Thai food?”

Taehyung grimaces. “Threw it out. Looked alive or something. We should, like, clean out our fridge sometimes.”

“Probably,” Jeongguk concedes. He turns his head to glance over the back of the couch. There a lot of gaudy magnets on the fridge, most of them Taehyung’s and some of them holding up pictures. The centre image is of them in a chapel with Elvis. Jeongguk can’t really remember what happened. He was beyond drunk so that’s his excuse, but alcohol isn’t Taehyung’s drug of choice and they try not to indulge in that abroad. Maybe it was just Elvis and Taehyung’s desire for a good laugh.

They didn’t get it annulled. Because of love and all that other mushy shit, Jeongguk supposes.

Next to the fridge is a sink full of dirty dishes. Jeongguk cooks in the weekends when they got the time. Mainly breakfast. It’s Thursday now.

“Jesus,” Jeongguk sighs, spotting five socks on the floor and an unpacked box in the corner from three months ago. “We’re such losers.”

Taehyung huffs. “Fuck off. Got a job and everything.”

Jeongguk sighs again. Taehyung’s in his first year of teaching while he’s still collecting half-finished art majors like it’s a hobby. Excelling at all the artistry and incapable of memorizing any of the theory. Tests fuck him over every time.

“We had to ask Namjoon to do our taxes last year,” Jeongguk says. He rearranges himself so that his head is on Taehyung’s lap and his legs are dangling off the other side of the couch. “Couldn’t even ask our parents.”

Taehyung bites his lip and tilts his head in contemplation, letting the bullshit simmer till it’s at optimal consistency. “Just didn’t wanna rub their face into the obvious faults and shortcomings of their parenting. Seemed rude, 's all.”

Jeongguk snorts. “Right.”

“The dude gets off on numbers. And who knows how to do taxes anyway?” Taehyung’s completely given up on the game now, flicking through his weapon inventory and decking out his character in various armours. Jeongguk doesn’t think purple makes for great camouflage. “Bet Jimin doesn’t do his own taxes.”

“Jimin sucks Joon’s dick on the regular. If he ain’t doing his taxes that’s grounds for divorce.”

“They're not married.”

“Whatever. Y’know what I mean. Probably manages to turn half of the clothes Jimin buys into a deductible.”

“That’s hot.”

“Way hot,” Jeongguk agrees, scrolling through his phone, trying to decide on dinner. Nothing too spicy and no seafood. Taehyung’s palate is as developed as those of the kids he’s teaching.

“Are you getting food from that place?” Taehyung asks. “’Cause then I want that non-fishy fish stuff. The fish fingers without fish.” Jeongguk hums but maybe not loud enough. “Y’know,” Taehyung continues, “those orange—”

“Yeah, dude. I know,” Jeongguk says, patting Taehyung’s stomach with his free hand to shut him up. “Chill. I’m getting you your deep-fried non-fish meat sticks with questionable protein heritage.”

Taehyung relaxes back into the couch. “Cool.”

“Cool,” Jeongguk echoes, finishing up the order.

He turns to his side, facing away from the TV. It’s not all bad, Jeongguk thinks, being married. He’s had a shitty day, Taehyung’s had a shitty day, and now they’re sitting here in their somewhat shitty apartment with Taehyung playing a shitty game. But Taehyung’s ratty hoody is soft and warm. Grey but not winter grey.

“We gotta watch some Netflix,” Taehyung says, ditching the console and switching to a remote. “There’s five-hundred things in our queue.” He brushes the long fingers of one hand through Jeongguk’s hair. His pierced ears are usually next. “What ya wanna watch? ‘Blood and gore’ or ‘sex, blood and gore’?” Jeongguk watches the light of the TV screen flicker across Taehyung’s features as he jumps through their queue, his eyebrows pinched. “Anime?”

“Love you.”

Taehyung’s face goes soft, eyes losing their dull shine and the corners of his lips twitching. “That’s a bit gay, Guk.”

“Fuck off.”

“Hmm,” Taehyung hums and he’s grinning. A sharp little thing full of amusement. “Was gonna go with Narcos but since you’re being such a soft bitch maybe we should watch Totoro instead.”

“Jesus,” Jeongguk groans, rolling over to his other side with flushed cheeks. “You’re such an ass. Just tell me you love me.”

Taehyung chuckles, thumb brushing along the ridge of Jeongguk’s ear like predicted. “Love you tons.”