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The work bug and the energizer bunny; they are always the last ones left.

Jimin is sweating so much it's soaked through his shirt to the point where it renders the white tank completely useless. But not irrelevant--oh no, it's so relevant in the way that it sticks to his skin, melds to his muscles as he stretches and curves and bends and snaps to the music of the speakers.

Jungkook huffs, doubled over with his hands on his knees, watching the sweat drip into tiny pools on the hardwood floor. The music thrums against his skin, slipping and sliding and drip-drip-dripping. Every single inch of him is sore, panting, exhausted, in the most accomplished of ways, but somehow, Jimin is still going. There's a crease between his brows and a plump to his lips from how much he's been biting it. Jungkook's back hits the wall and he lets himself fall, ass meeting the ground with a dull thump and a twinge that is nothing compare to the ache settling into his arms, shoulders, hips.

"You should take a break," Jungkook says as the song trails into the two second silence before another loop. He taps the stop button. Silence swells in waves, breaking against their bones and breaths.

"Maybe... just a little one," Jimin says, barely able to get a full sentence out without panting. He sits down so hard Jungkook winces for him. He's resting his elbows on his knees, head between them, breathing so hard the mirrors ought to have fogged up by now. Jungkook inches over on his knees, resting his palms on Jimin's shoulders. He kneads down and feels Jimin's muscles relax beneath his touch. They share a silence saturated in comfort, in knowing, pulsing with familiarity.

"Namjoon-hyeong's worried you're working out too much," Jungkook says, keeping his voice as light as possible. He can almost hear Jimin's nose scrunching in his signature look of distaste.

"I'm fine."

Jungkook makes a noncommittal noise and digs his thumbs into Jimin's shoulder blades. Jimin lets out a soft groan and his head sinks towards the ground so that he's almost bent in half. Jungkook doesn't spare himself the time to marvel at how damn flexible Jimin is because that's never gone well in the past.

"People on Daum keep telling me to treat you better," Jungkook says with a breathy little laugh, still kneading away at the knots in Jimin's shoulders, occasionally pausing to give his back a few good thumps.

Jimin rolls his shoulders and lifts his head. Jungkook catches a grin through the mirror and feels the heat ballooned around him pressing in from all sides. He casts his eyes downwards and redoubles his efforts at a set of particularly stubborn knots close to the nape of Jimin's neck.

"They're convinced I really don't like you." Jungkook cocks his head, trying to catch a glimpse of Jimin's expression. Jimin's eyes are closed, a tiny frown digging between them and Jungkook has begun to think that it's his default practice room expression and that soon enough, his face will just get stuck like that. He grins at the thought and leans back up, inching his legs forward till they're pressed against the curve of Jimin's back to give him more leverage.

"But the fans believe whatever they hear, all the crazy rumors and stuff--did you see that one about Hobi-hyeong going solo for dance or something?" Jungkook keeps on talking because he doesn't handle silence as well as his hyeongs do. He gets antsy when people are quiet, and especially Jimin because Jimin is usually always saying something, laughing, singing, humming, what have you.

Jimin nods and Jungkook laughs. The silence swells again, thick and deep. Jungkook lets his eyes roam over Jimin's form. He could probably draw it from memory (he could probably draw all of them by now, but especially Jimin), because somehow, he always finds Jimin in his line of vision, sitting across from him at radio interviews, or next to him, or behind him in the car. Or when he finds Jimin passed out on the couch late at night cause he's the only one who ever passes out on that couch--he's the only one that fits comfortably other than Yoong-hyeong and he likes his bed way too much to not be in it when they're at home.

Jungkook finds himself staring at the patch of skin just above the material of Jimin's sweat-soaked tank top and he frowns, a wave of heat washing over his own skin. Probably just residual heat from practice. Jungkook is bad at lying, terrible at it, even, because he feels so intensely. And perhaps it’s his naivety, but he can taste his emotions on his tongue clear as the spices Seokjin-hyeong uses to cook and right now, he tastes the sticky-sweet of arousal at the back of his throat; he frowns. He has half a mind to stop massaging Jimin because tingles are shooting up his spine even as he tries to focus on something other than Jimin's very pronounced back muscles.

Jimin is so languid under his touch, so quiet and malleable that he might have dozed off. Jungkook doesn't try to check, frowning as he bites the inside of his cheeks and shifts so that he's straddling Jimin's back, palms working over Jimin's shoulders, down his back.

Sometimes Jungkook catches himself daydreaming about things he'd rather not recount in too vivid of detail lest he'd have to excuse himself to the bathroom for a good half hour and leave the tap running. Almost every single one of his hyeongs have been featured in said daydreams but for some reason, Jimin always leaves the sharpest imprint, leaves Jungkook feeling burnt out and raw when he finishes. It's weird--but it's normal, so Seokjin-hyeong had said when Jungkook brought it up one night. Almost everyone with a healthy sex drive has them and in a dorm with six other boys, a positive cesspool of testosterone, it's more than normal. It's the natural order of things.

But somehow, Jungkook still tries to shut out the dull, pulsing throb of desire that spikes whenever he spots Jimin tugging a shirt from his back, or shucking his shorts right before bed. He pushes it away because none of the classes at school had taught him how to deal with these feelings and nothing in the damn industry helps either. He can nail an interview head on, make fans scream with a smile and a half, but he can't figure, for the life of him, how he should be reacting when his stomach twists because Jimin is leaning over his shoulder asking what episode of Haikyuu!! he's watching.

And right now, he's resisting the urge to dart right out of the room because Jimin's breaths have given way to soft little noises of consent as Jungkook works through the bigger knots in his back. Jungkook blinks and frowns and hones in on his own hands, the repeating motions of his fingers as they work out each kink in Jimin's muscles.

When Jimin lets out a particularly loud moan as Jungkook runs his thumbs over a patch of his skin, Jungkook feels his dick kick in his pants and freezes. Jimin shifts, still so soft, even as he sways and half-lifts his head, eyes lidded.

"Why'd you stop?" His voice is sleep-muffled and Jungkook's initial hunch that he'd dozed off was right on point.

Jungkook doesn't answer, his cheeks flaring with heat as he tries to find an excuse to hightail it out of the room as fast as possible but too late, Jimin's already sat up, his back pressing into Jungkook's front and Jungkook watches as Jimin's eyes refocus, realization seeping into them. Jungkook doesn't know what he expects but it isn't the light laugh that echoes through the room as Jimin finds his eyes through the mirror.

"I guess the fans that think you don't like me have another thing comin' huh."

Jungkook pictures himself melting into the wooden floors, right through the cracks till he seeps through to the layer of molten lava sitting around the earth's core and he wishes he had the power to do it.

"S-sorry, I'm gonna go and--" Jungkook makes to stand up.

Jimin giggles, shaking out his bangs and carding a hand through his hair, a grin still hinging on his lips and Jungkook has to bite down a whimper because he can't figure out why the heavens are testing him like this.

"It's okay," Jimin says, turning round to look up at Jungkook, his legs crossed, eyes wide and dark and deep and so soft Jungkook falls right in and wishes he could stay forever. "It's okay," he says again, and Jungkook nods, still chewing on the insides of his cheeks, sinking back down to the ground. He watches with a muted fascination as Jimin reaches towards his shorts and pauses, looking back up towards Jungkook for permission. Jungkook blinks and nods; Jimin's fingers inch under the waistband of his pants. The callouses drag over Jungkook's hipbone and he stifles another groan. This feels good, he thinks, his body reacting implicitly as Jimin works his pants down, palm meeting Jungkook's dick. He hisses through his teeth, head lolling back as Jimin palms his dick, the sound of shifting cloth magnified tenfold around them in the stewing silence. Jungkook soaks in the tremors of pleasure that shoot up and down his spine and if it were any other time but god-knows-when-but-after-midnight-for-sure, and anywhere but in the practice room where they'd spent the last four years of their lives, and anyone else but Jimin, Jungkook wouldn't have let it go this far. But right here, right now, it feels like a dream, a sharp, bright dream that Jungkook must be having because a part of him still figures that this isn't completely right, even though it feels like it, oh does it feel right.

When Jimin's thumb skims over Jungkook's slit, he lets out a yelp and his hip jumps. He peers down at Jimin who only smiles and quirks his head.

"Good?" he asks, in a voice that suggests nothing of the fact that he's currently jacking Jungkook off very openly in an empty room covered in mirrors. If anyone were to walk in, they'd get a shot of the scene from every possible angle.

Jungkook nods and whines as Jimin repeats the action and maybe it's the searing heat muddling his mind, or something else entirely, but Jungkook sits up fast enough to catch Jimin off guard and the last thing Jungkook sees before his lips are against Jimin's are his eyes, wide and surprised. Jungkook finds his hands cupped on either side of Jimin's face. Jimin's hand stills and Jungkook bites down another whine.

Jungkook tries to find something to say as he pulls back, finally realizing what he's done and mortified doesn't even begin to describe what he might be feeling then. He doesn't have long to ponder it because Jimin presses up again and they're kissing properly now, for the first time, really, and it's so right, so, so right. Jungkook relaxes into the slide and pull of Jimin's lips against his own, letting Jimin's hands trail up his front, curling around his waist to hold him just a bit closer. Jungkook inches forward, clumsy and eager and a little impatient because even if this were a dream, it's the realest thing he can remember feeling for a while now against the white-noise and dull-paced world that spins around them.

Jimin's breath against his lips is a loud splash of technicolored clarity and Jungkook smiles because whatever this is, it is right where he's supposed to be.

"Another thing comin'," Jungkook murmurs as he pushes Jimin down to lie flat on the ground, sweat-slicked bangs splayed across his forehead. Jimin laughs like coming home and Jungkook pauses, tilting his head.

"This isn't weird?"

Jimin purses his lips. "A little," he admits,” Does it feel weird?"

"Not really," Jungkook says, bending down to nose into Jimin's collar.

Jimin's hands settle in Jungkook's hair and Jungkook peppers kisses along Jimin's front, fingers dancing over his abs, as cut as ever, down to the hemline of Jimin's shorts. He pauses before he feels Jimin's nails scrape against his scalp and a low hiss of don't stop. Jungkook pushes Jimin's shorts down and buries his face in Jimin's shoulder as he finds Jimin's dick and gives it a pump, and then another. The crack in Jimin's voice shoots straight to Jungkook's own cock and he doesn't resist when Jimin's hips jerk up and their dicks skim against each other, making the both of them suck in a long breath.

One of Jimin's hands works between their bodies and wraps around Jungkook's dick again, the pair of them finding a pace between their hands and bodies, and the slightly awkward rut of their hips against each other but somewhere along the way, Jungkook loses himself in the little noises coming from Jimin's throat and nips a line back up to his lips, kissing him, feeling Jimin kiss back, mouths hot, breaths heavy.

Jungkook makes it his personal mission to catch every sound Jimin makes on his tongue because they taste like the answers to every question Jungkook's world has ever left unanswered and he stops wondering if this is right or wrong or up or down because Jimin tastes like the warmth of not having to know.

Jimin is panting when Jungkook pulls back to dip down and suck hickies into his neck, but Jungkook's hips start to stutter first. Jimin's fingers tighten and he presses his thumb to the tip of Jungkook's dick, dragging it across and around the head in tight little circles, hips working up so his thighs are brushing against Jungkook's balls and Jungkook keens into Jimin's shoulder as he comes.

Jimin's laugh breaks into a long moan as Jungkook flicks his wrist, intent on getting Jimin off while he can still feel the buzz of his own orgasm, propping himself up on an elbow so he can watch, stomach twisting as he feels himself drawing towards Jimin's lips once more. He pauses with their noses brushing, imitating Jimin's gesture of running his thumb around the underside of Jimin's head and his hips buck up. Jungkook likes the way Jimin has to bite his lip to keep from crying out, likes the way his eyes are squeezing shut, sweat slicking down his forehead, likes the way his Adams apple bobs as he swallows and whines, squirming under Jungkook's touch. But when Jimin comes, his mouth falling open, voice breaking clear through an octave that he would have struggled to hit in the recording booth, his body arching off the ground to press up against Jungkook's, he fancies that this goes beyond the boundaries of like. He fancies that he could probably get off to the sight of Jimin coming, a lot; not probably, definitely.

They are left panting and sticky, Jungkook's arm shaking as he keeps himself propped up. Jimin cracks open an eye, pupils still blown, grinning sleepily up at Jungkook. Silence steals a second, and then another, but Jimin leans up as Jungkook leans down and they kiss, really kiss, and taste each other without the film of doubt or apprehension or unbound eagerness that had perpetuated everything that came before. This is what right should feel like, Jungkook thinks as Jimin pulls him down, not caring that their clothes are completely sullied now, or that their shorts are still pulled down around their thighs and the floor is probably a mess, and so are they.

This is what right should feel like and everything that had come before was just a prequel, a tease, a sneak peak to the realness of this kind of right. The best kind.

And if it were anyone else but Jimin--well, Jungkook thinks as they make their way back towards the dorms in the biting chill of god-knows-when-but-definitely-way-too-late, fingers laced, sides pressed because it really is too cold and they're still sweaty, it doesn't really matter, because it is Jimin, and it isn't anyone else, and that's the only thing he needs to know.

They don't let go when they step through the door and find Seokjin-hyeong pouring over song lyrics in the kitchen. He looks up, eyes flicking between their hands and their faces and the pink of their cheeks. He smiles, jerking his head towards the hallway.

"Try not to wake everyone up in the shower, hm?"

Jungkook flushes and crinkles his nose. Jimin grins and swings their hands a little bit higher.

"We'll try," he says, tugging Jungkook along towards the bathroom.

"You should make a post on the fancafe," he muses as they let the bathroom door click shut, Jimin already tugging off his shirt and throwing it in the sink cause it definitely needs to be washed before they go to bed.

"What? And ruin my image?" Jungkook says with a grin, all cheek, shame gone as he pulls his own shirt from over his head and tosses it in with Jimin's. Jimin quirks an eyebrow.

"And here I was thinking maybe getting you off would make you nicer."

"I'm nice," Jungkook says as he follows Jimin into the shower and draws the curtains, eyes skimming down Jimin's back with an appreciative smile as Jimin bends down to start up the water.

"Only when we're alone," Jimin says, but he's grinning and Jungkook misses the taste of it already. So he leans down and pauses right before their lips meet.

"Well I mean, we're always the last ones in the practice room, right?"

Jimin hums, leaning up to brush their lips together, "And the recording booth."

"And the bathroom," Jungkook continues, skin ghosting over skin.

"If only the fans knew," Jimin laments.

"Then they'd have another thing comin'."