Work Text:
“Yoooongii~”
“For fuck’s sake, Jimin, what do you want now?”
The pink-faced, bleary-eyed boy stumbled out of Yoongi’s washroom with his arms wrapped around himself, his voice nasally because of his stuffy nose and hoarse from his cough. Yoongi looked up from his couch, where a mountain of open textbooks, calculus notes and his laptop were perched dangerously on his lap, making his every move a hazard. He watched as Park Jimin walked drunkenly from the washroom, and his brow furrowed in worry as he saw his arms shivering slightly, even though it was barely cold.
“Jimin,” Yoongi called out in concern, as the blonde boy entered his living room and sniffled. Jimin didn’t even look at him as he walked around the couch and collapsed amidst the wreckage of Yoongi’s half-finished essay, before erupting into a coughing fit.
“Jimin!” Yoongi said in alarm, letting his notes scatter to the floor without a second glance as he leant over to wrap the boy in his arms. Jimin shuddered and his hand tried weakly to push Yoongi away.
“Hyung, you’re gonna catch sick too.”
“I don’t care,” Yoongi said into the fabric of the back of Jimin’s tshirt. “Did you find the cough medicine?”
“I’ve had five pills in two hours I don’t think I should have any more,” Jimin slurred, his words thick and head falling limp against Yoongi’s shoulder. “I’m really dizzy, hyung,” he whimpered.
Yoongi whispered soothingly into Jimin’s neck before pulling off his sweatshirt and giving it to the younger, who hesitantly slipped it on. Yoongi almost laughed at the sight of the boy’s tiny frame enveloped by the blue material, the sleeves falling well past his fingertips and the hem reaching mid thigh.
Jimin burrowed in the sweatshirt and leaned back against the couch, shivering a little less violently but still wheezing. Yoongi sighed, his head falling back against the couch. Of course this was the best time for Jimin to be sick. It was exam week and they had been planning to study all night, but Jimin had had a cold all day and Yoongi knew that being up at two in the morning wasn’t going to speed up his recovery.
Yoongi sighed and shut his laptop screen, abandoning his project in favour of the sniffling ball of sweatshirt curled up next to him. He pulled the hood to reveal Jimin’s tousled blonde hair and pressed the back of his hand against the younger’s forehead.
It was burning.
“Fuck, Jimin, you have a fever,” Yoongi muttered, before standing to fetch the cough drops and more blankets. His legs were sore from sitting for so long, but he ignored it as he set off to search for medicine so his friend could get some rest.
When he returned with the cough drops, thermometer, and blankets piled in his arms, Jimin had dozed off on the couch, his blonde hair framing his red face.
Yoongi almost awwed at the sight.
He sat next to the boy and gently prodded him awake, poking his full cheeks until his eyes fluttered open and looked around, still unfocused.
“Drink up, Jiminie,” Yoongi held a small spoonful of herbal cough medicine and a mug of warm water. He held the spoon to Jimin’s pink lips until the boy obediently parted them, and Yoongi slipped the spoon into his mouth. Yoongi felt quite like a mother to a child, even though his friend was only a few years younger and inches shorter.
Jimin’s face wrinkled. “Hyung, it’s bitter!” he whined, swallowing forcefully. Yoongi cracked a smile, the boy was too cute to handle.
That is, until he started coughing violently.
“Jimin!” Yoongi said, as he rushed to grab the mug and hold it to the boy’s lips. “Jimin, drink, breathe, please.”
The boy stopped coughing long enough to take a short sip, but he his wheezing refused to subside. Yoongi was panicking.
“I need to take you home, Jimin,” Yoongi muttered, and Jimin nodded slowly, not paying attention. Yoongi stood to fetch his jacket and slip on shoes, before poking his head back into the room.
“You can get your stuff later,” he said. “We should go now.”
He had no response from the blue sweater on the couch. Yoongi dawdled for a minute until he walked over to find the younger fast asleep, his head hidden inside the many layers of fabric he had managed to wrap himself in. Jimin looked so adorable in his sweater burrito, his eyes shut and his breathing gentle. Yoongi brushed a strand out of the boy’s face and felt his heart twirl a little as a small smile rose to his face.
Despite being less than an inch shorter than him, Yoongi thought Jimin looked tiny.
“Oh, god, Jimin.” he whispered to himself, wondering what to do. He didn’t have the heart to wake the boy.
Letting out a long sigh, he stuffed his car keys in his pocket and knelt down. Slipping one arm around his back and one under Jimin’s knees, he hoisted the boy bridal style and stood. Jimin’s head burrowed into his chest and he exhaled a sleepy “Mkay”.
Yoongi chuckled.
The walk to the car was a long one because the snowstorm was savage, roaring and beating at Jimin and Yoongi as they made their way to the Yoongi’s car in the parking lot. Jimin nestled in Yoongi’s arms, sighing in contentment, and Yoongi felt oddly happy.
He laid Jimin down in the backseat and stroked his face gently, his fingers grazing the soft, flushed skin. Jimin exhaled gently and Yoongi felt his heart twist.
#
The snowstorm made driving extremely tedious, and Yoongi jolted as his tires slid on ice for the fifth time in the relatively short trip to Jimin’s place. He worried that the sharp stops would disturb the boy, who, for all he knew, was suffering from his cough in the back seat.
That is, until Jimin’s half delirious voice floated from the bundle of blankets he was swaddled in.
“Yoooooongi hyung, it’s so cold outside.”
Yoongi’s teeth grit in frustration, and he couldn’t bite back a snide “No shit, Sherlock.” to which Jimin laughed hysterically at.
“Fuck,” Yoongi muttered, turning around as soon as they hit a red light and looking at the boy in alarm. “Jimin, what’s up with you?” He had never heard that insane of a laugh from the soft hearted, well-spoken mochi.
“Hyung,” Jimin whispered pitifully, and Yoongi knew something was wrong because Jimin never called Yoongi hyung, ever. He was always cheeky when it came to respecting Yoongi, and while Yoongi was irritated at first, he grew to love Jimin’s childish stubbornness.
Yoongi almost missed Jimin’s next words, his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts.
“You’re so hot, hyung.”
Yoongi sputtered as his foot slammed down on the accelerator. Jimin yelped as the car sped up on the slippery ice, but Yoongi bit his lip and pulled over, the car coming to a sudden stop at the side of the road. Thankfully the street was empty, since it was the dead of the night, but Yoongi’s heart was beating rapidly and his breathing was shallow. His head felt a little light and dizzy and everything seemed to be sway. There was a pang in his chest, growing slightly and spreading tingles down to his toes as he turned and looked at Jimin.
Who lay, despite the commotion, with his head tipped back and his sharp jawline exposed, his lips parted as he breathed softly in his sleep, his hair ruffled up from the hood he was wearing and yet the whole scene was of a boy at peace with the world, despite having just flipped Yoongi’s upside down.
Jimin thought Yoongi was hot.
But what kind of hot? was Yoongi’s question, as he turned around and slumped against his seat, rubbing his eyes. Like, boyfriend material hot? Yoongi knew Jimin was bisexual and had a couple of short, complicated past relationships, but the older himself was gay and didn’t know how he felt.
He pressed the seat heater button rather forcefully, turning it up a notch.
Yoongi thought to the time he’d spent with Jimin. The younger had been his friend for years, since they’d met in high school. Yoongi had taken so long to warm up to Jimin, as he always did with his friends, but Jimin had broken through his barriers so easily Yoongi didn’t know what to think. Maybe it was the adorable crescent-eyed smile, or the breathtaking way he looked after a sweaty dance practise at well past midnight in the studio, where Yoongi had been half asleep but stayed to watch Jimin, who refused to stop until he had the choreo down and he had literally passed out the second the music stopped. Yoongi’s heart wrenched at the memory of how he’d sprinted to the boy lying exhausted on the floor, how he had hoisted him to his feet before realizing that Jimin couldn’t even stand and deciding to carry him home to his own place and blatantly refuse to let Jimin go to his classes the next day.
Did he think of Jimin the same way Jimin thought of him?
Hot, Jimin had called him, but Jimin had called him hot dozens of times before, all jokingly. But now, Yoongi knew that Jimin was essentially high on the cough medicine, and couldn’t form a coherent sentence any more than he could when he was totally wasted.
Was there a truth to his words?
Did Jimin have a crush on his friend?
Moody, grumpy Yoongi, who was snappish and rude and cold to everyone when irritated, but always, always open to Park Jimin, who could brighten his day with one teasing smile. Min Yoongi who looked forward to Jimin’s presence, and didn’t know what he would do without him in his life, although admittedly at times like this where he worked himself past his limits he was a bit of a heartache.
Maybe Yoongi did like Jimin.
His mind flashed back to Jimin leaning in his arms, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily, his tongue between his teeth and Yoongi bit back a smile.
The older started the car back on with one last glance at the sleeping Jimin and continued on his way.
It took several worried glances from the janitor at Jimin’s apartment building, but Yoongi managed to slip Jimin’s spare key into the lock and enter the place with the boy still fast asleep, cradled in his arms.
Yoongi brought Jimin to his bed and fussed over heavy blankets, before admiring the younger’s pretty face, even with his dark bags and bedhead.
Yoongi bent down and whispered into Jimin’s ear before leaving the room.
“You’re hotter, Park Jimin.”
He didn’t see the small smile bloom on Jimin’s features once the door was shut.