Yoongi grins, enjoying the way Jungkook relaxes into his arms, the warmth of his body against Yoongi's so satisfying. "Oh, Namjoon definitely could," he says. "Watch him magically know three other languages without telling us." That's just how Namjoon is. His grades aren't always the best, but that's because of his home life and job, not because he's not smart. As far as Yoongi's concerned, he's a genius, even if he's never actually said he thinks as much. All the random bits of trivia Namjoon manages to pull out of the ether may not add up to something that could get him ahead in life, but there's something beautiful about knowing things to know them.

"And anyway," he adds, a note of protest in his voice, "it's not like I don't like sweet things. I like cake. I just don't like that much sugar." Besides, he's pretty sure too much sugar makes him puff up, and he's a little more vain about things like that than he cares to say.

Nestled here against Jungkook, it's so tempting just to keep kissing him, dotting his neck and jaw with kisses, but he knows better than to press his luck. Instead, he tucks his head against Jungkook's shoulder, angling them toward another tank.