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he's what you want (i'm what you need)

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Jimin has thought well and hard about who he should ask.

He thinks about it over his morning cereal. He thinks about it at night when he can’t fall asleep. He thinks about it jogging on the treadmill at his university gym, and he thinks about it dozing off in class when his professor’s voice grows too monotone to endure.

He could ask Jungkook, but he’s known Jungkook since he was four years old and ate dirt in the schoolyard, so that would be weird. He could ask Seokjin, but honestly Seokjin is so ridiculous on a regular basis that he can’t take him seriously enough to imagine asking. He could ask Taehyung, but everyone already thinks they’re dating because they hang out all the time, and he hates that on principle (can’t two gay dudes be platonic best friends without any hidden feelings?) He can’t ask Hoseok because Hoseok has a boyfriend, and he can’t ask Namjoon because Namjoon’s the boyfriend.

That leaves Min Yoongi.

To be honest, he doesn’t know Min Yoongi all that well. Mostly they know each other by association. Yoongi’s best friends with Hoseok and Namjoon, so sometimes when they all hang out, he’s there, too. He’s kind of a dick. Most of the time, Jimin only ends up bickering with him over something inconsequential but momentarily important. He thinks he’s the shit, and he’ll never admit he’s wrong, even when a mountain of evidence proves otherwise. He’s too blunt for Jimin’s sensibilities, and when he takes care of the others, he tries to play it off like he hasn’t done anything at all. Jimin hates that; he can’t understand why Yoongi tries so hard to come off as aloof.

But the thing is, Min Yoongi is really fucking hot.

He’s got this sleepy way of gazing at people that makes him look pretty and unapproachable at the same time, and his mouth’s the loveliest pink crossbow. He has a few well-placed tattoos that always peek out of his clothes in a way that only arouses curiosity. Though he dresses attractively, it’s in a rather low-effort sort of manner.

If that isn’t enough to make him a good candidate to ask, the word on the streets is that Min Yoongi’s a really, really good kisser.

Jimin wouldn’t have guessed it. Yoongi doesn’t seem like he enjoys being around people for much longer than necessary, so he can’t imagine him going around kissing enough people to build up a reputation. But either way, the reputation does exist, and Jimin has heard the rumor from reliable sources.

So Jimin has thought long and hard, and Min Yoongi seems like the best person to ask.

“Hey, Yoongi hyung.”

Yoongi’s been working as an architect since he graduated, so he probably earns enough to live by himself, but he still shares the same old dinky apartment with Namjoon from their college days. His bedroom hasn’t changed much, either; the walls are lined with the wooden shelves Jimin can clearly remember him installing himself, piled mostly with records and CDs. He’s still got the same posters, starting to wear away at the edges, and his bookshelf is still half-filled with college textbooks. Jimin doesn’t come to Yoongi’s room often; standing in his doorway now is the closest he’s gotten in a year.

“Park Jimin,” Yoongi drawls. It’s his day off, which is why Jimin’s here, and he reclines on his bed with outstretched legs and his phone glued to his face. Jimin had used Namjoon as an excuse, stopping by to return a book he’d borrowed and casually stepping toward Yoongi’s room to say hello.

Yoongi doesn’t even spare him a glance, and that almost makes him irritated enough to change his mind. But then he briefly runs through his alternatives (which are none) and bites back his annoyance. Mostly. “When are you gonna redecorate, anyway?”

“When are you gonna stop offering unsolicited opinions?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be, like, good at decorating and shit?”

“I’m an architect, not an interior designer.” The bickering has at the very least forced Yoongi to put his phone down and pay attention to him. He fixes his sleepy gaze on Jimin and says, “What do you want?”

“I have a question.”


Jimin huffs. “Can I come in?”

“Depends. What’s your question?”

“I don’t wanna ask from your doorway .”

“Do you have a problem with my doorway? Are you insulting it?” An eyebrow rises and disappears into the dark fringe arranged messily across his forehead.

“Hyung,” Jimin complains, exasperated.

“Fine, come in.”

He enters, carefully pulling the door shut behind him. Yoongi’s eyebrows raise a little further at that, but he doesn’t comment. Jimin clears his throat uncomfortably and points at the desk chair, on the back of which dangle multiple dress shirts. “Can I sit?”

“Only on Tuesdays,” he says, but this time Jimin catches the twinkle of mirth in his eyes and feels more amused than irritated.

“Okay, um.” He sits down, fingers twisting together in his lap as sudden nervousness overtakes him. It had sounded like a good idea before - felt like one, too. Now he feels stupid. “Actually, never m-”

“Don’t you dare,” Yoongi warns. “Spit it out, I’m getting a headache looking at you wring your hands.”


The words tumble out of his mouth in a desperate rush before he can rethink them. Yoongi blinks, and dread settles in the pit of Jimin’s stomach.

“Can you repeat that in a way that I can actually understand?”

Jimin gulps. “Will you. Teach me how to kiss.”

Yoongi’s expression doesn’t change. He blinks languidly, gaze locked on Jimin’s, for what feels like the longest moment Jimin has ever had to endure. Then he finally says, “You want me to what?”

“Don’t make me say it again,” Jimin groans, burying his face in his hands.

“If you want me to kiss you, you’re gonna have to learn how to say it out loud,” Yoongi mutters. Jimin hears shuffling and removes his hands to see Yoongi sitting up, crossing his legs beneath him and resting his chin in his hand. “Explain.”

“Look, I’m about to graduate and I’ve never even kissed anyone. I can’t leave university with virgin lips. That’s embarrassing.”

Yoongi’s mouth curls in annoyance. “Who fucking cares? Go your whole life without kissing anyone, no one gives a fuck. What about people who don’t like kissing, huh?”

“Okay, I misworded, that’s not what I meant, I just - I dunno. I wanna put myself out there but I’ve never even kissed anyone and I don’t know how. And I don’t wanna make a fool out of myself.”

“Put yourself out there? You got a crush on someone or something?”

The flush that rises to his cheeks gives him away before he can even answer.

Yoongi scoffs, and that only makes the heat intensify. “Ask him to teach you how to kiss, then.”

“I can’t , he’s so experienced and everyone likes him and I don’t wanna look like a kid - ” Jimin clamps his mouth shut. He hadn’t meant to give so much away.

“So he’s older and experienced,” Yoongi muses. “Is it Wonshik?”

No ,” Jimin hisses. “It doesn’t matter who it is, fuck off.”

But Yoongi’s clearly still musing, tapping his chin with a long finger. Then he starts, eyes widening in realization. “It’s Yongguk hyung, isn’t it?”

Jimin’s cheeks are positively flaming now. He snatches one of Yoongi’s rumpled dress shirts off the back of the chair and flings it in his direction. It lands just short of him. “None of your business.”

“You’re making it my business. You’re the one in my room.” Then Yoongi grins, one end of his mouth curling upwards. “I fucking knew you had a thing for him, you literally laugh at everything he says - ”

“Shut up.” Jimin rises to his feet so quickly he almost overturns the chair and marches toward the door, humiliation swarming in his stomach. “Forget I asked.”

“Wait, Jimin.” Yoongi’s voice turns serious enough that Jimin pauses, his hand on the doorknob. “Why me?”

Jimin glances back. Yoongi’s head is tilted, his gaze curious.

“Why are you asking me? You don’t even like me.”

“That’s not true,” he says, even though it’s a little bit true. “I dunno. I know you. And I heard you were a good kisser.”

Yoongi’s smirking again. “Oh, yeah?”

“I didn’t know who else to ask.”

His grin turns into a frown. “You have so many friends, Jimin-ah, there are a million people you could ask.”

“You made the most sense.”

“This is your first kiss. You really wanna have it with me?”

There’s something almost self-deprecating about the way he asks that, something that makes Jimin frown. “I thought about it, hyung. I’m not just asking on a whim.”

“C’mere.” Yoongi pats the bed in front of him. Jimin hesitates, but Yoongi’s expression is neutral, so he steps toward him and pauses at the edge of the bed. “You gonna kiss me from over there?” he says in amusement.

Jimin flushes. “You want to - already?”

“What, were you planning on setting up an appointment?”

Honestly, he hadn’t really thought Yoongi would agree. Now that the reality that he’s about to have his first kiss has sunk in, his hands have started to tremble.

Yoongi’s voice gentles. “We don’t have to do it today if you don’t want to.”

Jimin steels himself. This is what he wanted, after all. “No. Today’s fine.”

Yoongi pats the bed again. This time Jimin sits, mimicking Yoongi’s cross-legged pose, near enough that their knees brush. “Did you brush your teeth?” Yoongi says dryly.

“Of course I did,” Jimin snaps before he realizes Yoongi’s only teasing.

Yoongi reaches out to brush his fingers along Jimin’s cheek before cupping it in his palm, his thumb resting just on the edge of his lips. The lightness of his touch sends a shiver up Jimin’s spine. “Rules: watch your teeth, and don’t overdo the tongue.”

Right. Tongue. They’re going to be kissing with tongue. “Okay,” Jimin squeaks, and he can’t even look Yoongi in the eyes. He stares at his nose instead.

Yoongi leans in close enough that his breath tickles Jimin’s lips. He smells good, like shampoo and coffee and something else Jimin can’t place. He has a tiny mole on his cheek that Jimin has never noticed before. “You sure you wanna do this?” he murmurs, and Jimin can almost feel him shape the words.

Jimin’s gaze falls to Yoongi’s mouth. His lips are shaped so perfectly, so pink and slender and soft. “Yeah.”

Yoongi closes the distance between them.

His lips are as soft as they look. He kisses him lightly, the gentlest of touches, before pulling back an inch. It’s so quick Jimin had barely even felt it, but before he can complain, Yoongi kisses him again. He fits Jimin’s lower lip between his own and tugs gently. It feels a little strange, someone else’s mouth on his, and he doesn’t quite know what to do, but Yoongi accommodates. Their noses brush, and Yoongi tilts his head, kissing him slowly. He pulls back to drop another light peck to his mouth before leaning in for a longer kiss.

Everyone always makes a big deal out of first kisses, but Jimin doesn’t feel much at all. It feels, nice, yeah, but he doesn’t really get the hype. Then something wet flicks out and traces the seam of Jimin’s lip, and he jumps, a shiver running down his spine. Yoongi pulls away, but he’s still close enough that Jimin can feel his breath warm his lips.

“You good?”

He could back out now. Part of him wants to. But Park Jimin is no chicken, and he came here to learn, so he’s going to learn. “Yeah.”

Yoongi closes the distance between them again, the touch of his lips soft until Jimin feels the wet of his tongue again. This time he expects it, parting his lips in response, letting Yoongi in. The feeling of Yoongi’s tongue tracing his mouth is a odd at first, but only until he realizes that Yoongi really knows what he’s doing with his tongue.

By the time he figures that out, Yoongi’s pulling away. He follows Yoongi’s retreating mouth unconsciously and gets another soft kiss for his efforts, can feel Yoongi smiling against his lips. Yoongi kisses him open-mouthed, his hand cupping Jimin’s jaw, and Jimin finds himself leaning into it. His stomach flutters, heart thudding in his chest. He still doesn’t really know what to do, but whatever he’s doing must be okay because Yoongi isn’t stopping him.

Yoongi sucks lightly on his lower lip before his tongue slips inside Jimin’s mouth again. He traces the roof of Jimin’s mouth, and the sudden tingle of pleasure takes Jimin by surprise. He whimpers into the kiss, hands finding Yoongi’s shirt, then realizes what he’s done.

He pulls away immediately, eyes wide.

“Are you okay - ” Yoongi starts, brows furrowed, his lips slick and a little swollen.

Jimin’s face is aflame. Yoongi probably thinks he’s such a loser, moaning into a kiss like that when it’s just for practice. “Uh, I - um - ”

“Hey, it’s okay - ”

“I gotta go,” Jimin blurts, hot with embarrassment. He leaps off the bed and bolts for the door.

“Jimin, wait,” Yoongi calls, but Jimin’s already halfway out of the apartment.


Jimin has never considered himself a lucky person. He’s never considered himself an unlucky person, either, just a person with luck like any other. But when he walks into the bar he frequents with his friends to find that Yoongi and Yongguk have both showed up, he wonders if his luck has started to change.

For the worse.

What are the odds , he wonders as he downs his first shot of alcohol at the table his boisterous group has gathered around. What are odds that Yoongi, who doesn’t like going out in big groups, would join them for the first time in months a week after the day Jimin ran out of his apartment with his tail tucked between his legs? What are the odds that Yongguk, who has to wake up well before dawn to begin baking for his shop, would agree to go out for late-night drinks for the first time in months on the exact same day as Yoongi? Jimin’s really the only constant here. Friday drinks with the others are routine.

“What’s got you so down, Jiminie?” Seokjin asks, leaning across the table to flick his forehead.

“That hurts,” Jimin complains, shifting away and rubbing the sore spot.

“Quit pouting, you look like a baby.”

Jimin pouts a little harder. He’s highly aware of Yongguk’s warm body directly next to his, and unfortunately just as highly aware of Yoongi sitting across from him. Yoongi’s watching Jimin with that judging hint of amusement he always seems to sport when it comes to him specifically. It doesn’t help that Yoongi had come straight from work, so he’s still wearing a suit; it makes him seem infinitely more high-and-mighty than usual.

“Bad day, Jimin-ah?” Yongguk’s voice is low, but Jimin’s pretty sure he can hear it all the way in his bones.

He glances at him from the corner of his eyes and shrugs a shoulder. “Yeah, I guess.”

Yongguk stretches an arm across his shoulders, jostling him briefly. “Good night to drink then.”

Jimin flushes pink, and the warmth of Yongguk’s body melts into his own. Not even a moment passes before he removes his arm, and Jimin feels its absence acutely. When he glances back, he catches Yoongi staring at him, lips twitching and lidded gaze looking more amused than ever. Mustering all the annoyance he can manage, Jimin responds with a glare.

Entirely unfazed, Yoongi turns to Yongguk and leans his elbow on the table to rest his chin in hand, head tilted the slightest bit. He cleans up well, even if he’s discarded the jacket and loosened his tie; Jimin begrudgingly admits he looks handsome tonight. “So, Yongguk hyung, you said you’d bake me that cake you were telling me about? The one you said’s a bestseller?”

Jimin narrows his eyes, but Yoongi doesn’t even glance his way.

“You’ll have to come visit,” Yongguk says easily. “They’re usually made-to-order. Stop by the bakery and I’ll bake one for you.”

“Can I come by sometime next week?”

Jimin’s bristling. Mostly because it seems like Yoongi’s trying to make a point, and partly because he’s getting across the point very well. Flirting with Yongguk is clearly not very difficult if even Yoongi can do it. Jimin feels even more uselessly left behind than before.

Setting his drink down a little harder than necessary, Jimin clears his throat. “I’m gonna get some more drinks. Yoongi hyung, can you come help me?”

Yoongi eyes him across the table like he’s debating before he nods and follows him off toward the bar. “Get me another blue motorcycle,” Junghwa calls after them, and Jimin waves to show he’s heard.

“What are you doing?” Jimin hisses as soon as they’re well away from their table.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” There’s an insufferably innocent look on Yoongi’s face, the amusement twinkling in his gaze.

“You’re flirting with hyung.” They nudge their way to the counter, leaning against it and nodding to the bartender when she glances in their direction.

“I dunno if I’d really call that flirting,” Yoongi muses, scratching his chin, just before the bartender comes to them.

Jimin orders his and Junghwa’s drinks, glancing at Yoongi to see if he wants anything. Yoongi shakes his head. Once the bartender has moved away, Jimin turns back to Yoongi. “I trusted you and now you’re throwing it back in my face.”

Yoongi’s looking at him with pity. “Don’t worry, I’m not about to get in your way.”

“Stop messing with me. It’s mean.”

Yoongi shrugs one shoulder, a thoughtful look on his face. “Yongguk hyung’s pretty hot, but it wouldn’t work out between us.”

The bartender slides Junghwa’s Blue Motorcycle toward them. “What do you mean?”

A grin turns up the corners of Yoongi’s mouth. It’s not a cheerful grin; it’s a calculating one. His hand closes around the drink. “Let’s just say we both like to be on top.”

Then he’s heading back toward their table, his shoulders shaking as if he’s laughing on the way.

Jimin stares after him, brows furrowed, before it clicks. “Oh,” he says, his cheeks heating up in a furious blush. “ Oh .”

Yoongi tosses a backwards glance over his shoulder halfway to the table, and at the sight of Jimin standing there, flustered, his laughter only grows.

Asshole , Jimin thinks as he furiously downs his shot and asks for another. He’d known asking Yoongi would be a terrible idea, but he’d done it anyway. Now he’s going to have to live with Yoongi’s teasing forever.

It doesn’t help that he can’t stop thinking about the kiss while Yoongi seems to have forgotten all about it.

By the time he returns to their table, he’s had enough shots to make him tipsy. He plays it up, stumbling into Yongguk’s side. He’ll show Yoongi flirting. Jimin might be inexperienced, but he damn well knows how to flirt.

“Yongguk hyung,” he croons, wrapping an arm around Yongguk’s and resting his chin on his shoulder. Yongguk turns to him, and Jimin can see his eyes soften. Jimin smiles cutely up at him. “I wanna get a tattoo like yours.” He traces a finger along the tattoo on Yongguk’s bicep.

Jimin doesn’t have to look to know Yoongi has the judging look on his face again. He resists sticking his tongue out at him.

Yongguk ruffles his hair fondly. “You drunk already, Jimin-ah?”

It’s the way he says it, like Jimin’s a somewhat amusing kid. Jimin stiffens, the confidence that had come to him from a mix of alcohol and anger fading. He forces a laugh and pulls away, hoping the disappointment doesn’t show in the slump of his shoulders as he returns to his seat between Yongguk and Seulgi. Across the table, Yoongi shoots him another look, but it’s a little less judging and a little more concerned this time. No matter what he does, he never manages to be much more than a kid to Yongguk.

Jimin goes back to the bar for another shot.

The night goes on, even if he really just wants to go home. He only stays because he decides getting drunk will be better than moping in front of his TV until he falls asleep. Yoongi keeps shooting him glances that become steadily more concerned the drunker he gets, but he pointedly ignores them. It’s all Yoongi’s fault, anyway, for acting like such a dick.

“I’m gonna cut you off,” Seulgi tells him very seriously when he slumps into her.

“You can’t,” Jimin whines, straightening up. “That’s not fair .”

Seulgi’s arguing with him about how fairness doesn’t have anything to do with it when Yoongi leaves for a smoke break. After a moment, Jimin decides to follow him out because he’s upset, and upset Jimin wants to give Yoongi a piece of his mind. He sways a bit on the way but makes it out in one piece. There are a few people loitering around, but Yoongi’s leaning against the wall off to the side, taking a drag from his cigarette.

He’s put his suit jacket back on, and maybe it’s because he’s drunk but all Jimin can do is think about how unfairly good-looking he is. Of course Yongguk pays attention to him when he looks like that . He looks so grown up, and Jimin just feels like a kid.

“This is all your fault,” Jimin says, marching right up to him and poking a finger at his chest.

“The hell are you doing out here?” Yoongi mutters, looking him up and down. “It’s cold.”

“Don’t distract me. I have some things to say to you.”

Yoongi snorts, takes another drag of his cigarette. He’s civil enough to turn his head away when he exhales, but somehow that just makes Jimin angrier. “Go on then, as if I could stop you.”

“Can I have some?” Jimin eyes his cigarette, distracted already.

“Since when do you smoke?”

“I do sometimes .”

“Liar,” Yoongi says, and Jimin wonders if he’s imagining it because he’s drunk or if there’s fondness in his tone. “Why are you always trying to act cooler than you are?”

“I’m cool!” Jimin exclaims, swatting at his chest. Yoongi puffs out an exaggerated oof. “Come on, I want one.”

“Don’t smoke, Jimin, it’s terrible for you.”

“You’re smoking.”

“I know, I’m terrible. Can you go inside now? You’re making me cold just looking at you in that flimsy thing.” Yoongi pinches the hem of Jimin’s delicate shirt with his nose crinkled.

“You’re so mean,” Jimin mumbles, hands clenching into fists at his sides. He stares down at their feet, inches from each other, Yoongi in his Oxfords and Jimin in his boots. “Why are you so mean all the time?”

“What’d I do, huh?”

“How can you just - you’re just pretending all of that didn’t happen. Like it didn’t even matter to you.”

“All of that?”

“Yeah, you know. All of that.” Jimin waves his hand vaguely to the side.

“You’re gonna have to be a little more specific,” Yoongi says wryly, teasing him, but Jimin doesn’t want to be teased.

“Whatever.” He spins on his heel to head back inside but miscalculates - or doesn’t, he’s just drunk - and stumbles. The ground’s suddenly looming awfully close, and he closes his eyes to brace for an impact that doesn’t come.

“Watch out,” Yoongi says by his ear, arm wrapped firmly around his waist. “Why’d you drink so much? Idiot.”

“It’s your fault,” Jimin mumbles, swatting at Yoongi’s arm. His hold doesn’t loosen. “Why’d you go and flirt with him like that? That’s mean.”

“I told you I wasn’t flirting.”

“You were trying to piss me off.”

“I wasn’t - ” Yoongi huffs, exasperated. He hasn’t let him go, cigarette dwindling in his free hand. They’re so close Jimin’s starting to squirm, gaze drawn to Yoongi’s mouth as he bites his lip. “I was just teasing you. I wasn’t trying to be mean.”

“Well, it was mean.”

He huffs again. “Maybe if you weren’t so sensitive - ”

“Do you even know how to say sorry? Like is it in your vocabulary? Do you want me to give you a rundown?”

“Fuck off, Jimin.” He lets him go, finally, and Jimin takes a step back, crossing his arms across his chest. He stands there shuffling his feet while Yoongi goes back to smoking, though he only takes a few more drags before stubbing it out.

“You’re the one who ran out on me,” Yoongi murmurs. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

“Oh.” When he says it like that, it makes sense. Jimin twists his mouth in thought, but everything’s fuzzy and muddled, and he’s starting to get sleepy. It makes sense. “Okay.”

“That’s it?” Yoongi’s tension melts into exasperated amusement.

“What, you want me to grill you some more?”

“No, thanks.”

Yoongi looks about ready to drag him inside, but Jimin doesn’t want to go in yet. He’s still looking at Yoongi’s mouth. Kissing him had been okay at first until suddenly it had been a lot more than okay, so much more than okay that he’d ended up humiliating himself like that. But it was good enough that he hasn’t stopped thinking about it, hasn’t stopped remembering the way Yoongi’s tongue felt brushing the roof of his mouth or the way his hands felt running through his hair.

He takes a calculated step toward him, sways, and stumbles. It’s partly because he’s drunk and partly because he thinks it’ll make Yoongi catch him again, and he’s right. Yoongi surges for him immediately, wrapping his arms around his waist to hold him up.

“You’re fucking trashed, Jimin-ah. Let’s get you home.”

Jimin giggles, leaning into his chest. He’s not cold, warmed by the alcohol, but Yoongi’s warmth permeates him anyway. Yoongi’s mouth is only a few inches from his. He stares at it, pretty and pink. Then he leans in and presses a light kiss to his lips. He pulls back immediately, heat rising to his cheeks. Yoongi’s staring at him, expression inscrutable.

“What was that for?”

“I won’t get good at kissing if I don’t practice.” Jimin looks up at him from under his lashes, hesitates, then leans in for another kiss. This one’s longer, a proper kiss. He almost pulls away when he realizes Yoongi isn’t reciprocating until suddenly his hold around his waist tightens and he’s kissing back. Jimin’s kiss is sloppy from the alcohol and the lack of experience, but Yoongi takes the lead, sucking on his bottom lip the way Jimin had liked so much the last time they kissed.

Jimin flicks Yoongi’s lip with his tongue. It’s a hesitant attempt to go further, but Yoongi doesn’t hesitate in responding. He slips his tongue into Jimin’s mouth, traces the inside of his lips and sucks on his tongue. Jimin doesn’t know what to do with his hands, ends up resting them on Yoongi’s chest. They fist into his shirt as he tries to keep up, grip tightening when Yoongi’s tongue flicks the roof of his mouth and he doesn’t have enough willpower to stop the quiet whimper.

Yoongi kisses him until he’s dizzy, then he pulls back. Jimin pants, takes in Yoongi’s hooded gaze and the way his lips have turned swollen and red. Yoongi leans in to press one last, soft kiss to his mouth before he straightens and lets him go.

“That enough practice for you?” he says, and Jimin just nods vacantly. “Come on, I’m taking you home.”

They stop inside to grab their things and say goodbye to everyone else. They’re all looking at them rather exasperatedly, and Jimin feels kind of embarrassed for getting so drunk. He lets Yoongi lead him outside and flag a taxi, though he protests a bit.

“Taxi’s expensive, don’t do that,” he argues, but Yoongi shakes his head.

“It’s fine, it’s easier.”

Jimin dozes off on the way home, wakes up when Yoongi nudges him and helps him out of the car. He takes him up to his apartment, pulls Jimin’s keys from his back pocket and leads him all the way to his bed. No one’s home; Jungkook’s in the library cramming for an exam, and Taehyung’s visiting his parents.

“You gonna be okay alone?” Yoongi says, placing a glass of water and a trash can by his bedside.

“Uh-huh,” Jimin mumbles, already half-asleep again. He vaguely registers Yoongi throwing a blanket over him and manages a slurred, “Night, hyung,” before he’s out.


Jungkook is studying too hard to pay attention to him.

He’s on the couch with his legs outstretched and textbooks sprawled around him, poring over his laptop with unmatched intensity. He’s even wearing his glasses today. Jimin gets it. He’ll be in that position in another week, too. But he’s also having a crisis , and Jungkook is the only one around.

He plops onto their armchair with a mug of coffee and a heavy sigh. Jungkook doesn’t even flinch; he’s so immersed in his laptop, Jimin’s not sure he even noticed he’d joined him. Taking a few sips of his coffee, he sets it down and drapes himself over the arm of the chair with another sigh. Jungkook squints and jots something down in his notebook. Jimin picks up his mug and sighs again.

“Spit it out, hyung,” Jungkook says, eyes still glued to his screen.

“It took you three whole sighs to react.”

“Honestly, I was waiting to see how many times you’d sigh before you just talked to me. But then it got annoying.”

“You got annoyed after three times? Weak.”

Jungkook glances at him and grins. “Hangover any better?”

He’d woken up with a nasty one, taken some pills, and gone straight back to bed. The next time he woke, it’d been a little better. “Mostly.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“So, I, uh, did something stupid. Last week.”

“Oh, god.”

“Anyway, it was pretty stupid and embarrassing and it involves Yoongi hyung, and last night - ”

“Wait, wait - hold up. Who?”

Jimin wrings his hands between his knees. “Yoongi hyung.”

Jungkook’s abandoned his laptop in favor of staring at him incredulously. “Do you even know each other like that?”

“No, that’s the point , now can I finish?”

Jungkook waves for him to continue.

“He was at the bar last night and I got really drunk and embarrassed the fuck out of myself again - ”

“Why do you drink so much when you know you get embarrassing?”

“ - and he brought me home but apparently I left my wallet in the taxi and now I have to get it back.”

Jungkook whistles lowly. “He called you a taxi? Impressive.”

“Focus on the problem, please.”

“What’s the problem again?”

“He has my wallet,” Jimin huffs, setting his mug down hard enough to slosh a bit of coffee onto the table.

“So go get it back?”

“I can’t, that’s the problem. I absolutely cannot see him again after last night.”

“Okay, backtrack.” Jungkook sets his laptop down on the table, shifting to face him, and pushes his glasses up his nose. “What kind of embarrassing are we talking here? Did you throw up on his shoes?”


“Did you do a strip tease or something?”


“Did you guys - ” Jungkook’s voice lowers in shock, his eyes widening, “ - fuck?”

No ,” Jimin exclaims, snatching one of his notebooks off the couch and flinging it at him. Jungkook swats it away like it’s nothing. “It doesn’t matter what I did, the point is I need to get my wallet back but I don’t wanna see him.”

“Whatever you did, I’m sure it’s not that big of a deal. Yoongi hyung’s pretty chill. He won’t care.”

“Chill? Yoongi hyung? He’s the exact opposite of chill.”

“I dunno what Yoongi hyung you’ve been hanging around.”

“Jungkook,” he moans.

“Okay, fine. My sage advice to you is to stop being a wuss and just go get your wallet. He’s the one who texted you about it, right? Whatever happened, I doubt he cares that much.”

Jimin flops over the side of the armchair and flails around, whining, “That’s the worst advice ever.”


Jimin raises a hand to knock. He’s not a wuss.

He drops his hand. He’s a wuss.

He raises his hand, presses his knuckles to the door - he’s not a wuss.

He shoves his hand in his pocket and walks halfway down the hall. He’s definitely a wuss.

At the elevator, he hesitates, sighs, and heads back to Yoongi and Namjoon’s apartment. He doesn’t deal well with embarrassment. It sits in his bones and festers until he’s itching with anxiety over it, desperate to do anything to erase the moment that keeps replaying itself in his head. So far, the way he’d acted around Yoongi last night has festered enough that he knows he’ll choke up as soon as he sees him.

But he’s going to need his wallet back eventually. He sighs again, raises his hand, and knocks, three short raps in quick succession.

Namjoon opens the door, brightening at the sight of him. “Hey, Jiminie.”

“Hey, hyung,” Jimin says tentatively, not quite allowing the relief to settle in yet. “Yoongi hyung has my wallet.”

“Oh, yeah, I was expecting you. Come in.”

Jimin steps in after him, slipping off his shoes and following him to the kitchen where he spies his wallet resting on the counter. He almost considers snatching it up and running right out, but he doesn’t want to be rude to Namjoon.

“Yoongi hyung had to run into work for some emergency, so he left it here for you.” Namjoon picks it up and tosses it to him, and Jimin finally lets himself sigh in relief. He won’t have to face Yoongi after all.

“Oh, sucks.”

“Did you guys have fun last night? I’m bummed I missed out.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. It was fun.” Jimin clears his throat. “Did, um, Yoongi hyung mention anything about it?”

Namjoon snorts. “Came home and passed right out. Then he didn’t wake up until one, and only because his work phone started ringing.”

“Sounds like Yoongi hyung.”

“Why, did something happen?”

“Nope,” he says too quickly. “No, nothing. Everything was fine.”

Namjoon squints at him suspiciously. “Right.”

Jimin shuffles on his feet. He’s never been awkward around Namjoon before; yet another thing to blame Yoongi (and himself) for.

“Hey, is everything okay between you guys?”

Jimin blinks, stiffening. “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

“I dunno, hyung’s just been - never mind.”

“What do you mean?” A sense of foreboding settles in his stomach. Yoongi hates him after all. He thinks he’s a fucking loser for all this -

“It’s nothing, I’m sure. Anyway, I’ll see you next Friday, right?”

“Yeah, of course.” He backs toward the door. “Well, I’d better get going. Promised Jungkook I’d help him study. Thanks for your help, hyung.”

“No problem, see you around.”

Jimin walks carefully out of the apartment, waving before he shuts the door, then breaks into a run all the way down the stairs.


Somewhere along the rest of the weekend, Jimin realizes he’s an even bigger idiot than he’d originally thought.

Yoongi took care of his annoying drunk ass, paid for a taxi to take him all the way home, even tucked him into fucking bed . All that even after Jimin was being excessively irritating the whole night (not that Yoongi wasn’t also being irritating, he reminds himself). And all he does is grab his wallet and run away. He hadn’t even answered the text Yoongi sent letting him know he had it.

Monday morning, before he heads to his early class, he stops by his favorite coffee shop and orders an Americano and a big bagel. He attaches a sticky note to the outside of the bagel’s bag and jots a quick: thanks for everything, sorry for being a pain - Jimin. While he may have a conscience, he’s still a coward, so he leaves the coffee and bagel outside the apartment door, knocks, and runs away before anyone opens.


Jimin’s really starting to think his luck is taking a downturn.

What are the odds that Yoongi, who’s a Real Adult with a proper job and a proper life, would end up here, at the shitty coffee shop in the middle of campus that Jimin only frequents because he’s too lazy to walk to the better one three blocks away? The odds are slim to none, which is why, as Jimin stares at Yoongi’s back in front of him in line, he decides his luck has turned to shit.

It’s inevitable. He sighs, shrugs his backpack more securely on his shoulders, and says, “Hey, Yoongi hyung.”

Yoongi spins around, and Jimin can’t help feeling a little smug. At least he caught him off guard for once. It’s been a little over a week since they last saw each other; Yoongi had texted him a brief thanks for the breakfast, but that was that. Jimin was hoping on keeping it that way. “Oh. Hey, Jimin.”

“What are you doing here?”

Yoongi narrows his eyes, the surprise only momentary. “What, I’m not allowed to get coffee?”

Jimin sighs. Again. “Don’t be difficult. You know this is kind of out of the way for you.”

Yoongi looks like he’s debating continuing to be difficult, but then he says, “I was hanging out with Jungkook.” He pats the messenger bag hanging at his hip. “Thought I’d get some work done after.”

Jimin squints at him. “You hang out with Jungkook?”

“Why are you asking it like that?”

“I wasn’t asking it like anything, I was just asking,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. One minute and he’s annoyed already.

“You here to study?” Yoongi nods to his backpack.

Jimin debates lying, heading to the library instead just to avoid further interaction, but he hates studying in the library. It’s packed and smelly, and at least the coffee shop has a few open booths. “Yeah.”

“Good. I think we should talk.”

Jimin winces. Of course Yoongi has to be the mature one. If only he could just suffer in avoidance like Jimin, then everything would be fine. “Right.”

It’s Yoongi’s turn up in line, so Jimin stands a few feet back while he orders. Yoongi heads to the pick-up counter without glancing at him, and Jimin steps up to order with a resigned slump to his shoulders. He doesn’t want to talk. He really, really doesn’t want to talk. “Latte, please,” he says, “with an extra shot.”

When he takes out his phone to pay, the cashier shakes her head. She gestures to Yoongi. “He already paid for you.”

“Oh.” Jimin blinks, glancing over. Yoongi’s fiddling with his phone, stifling a yawn with his free hand.

He walks over to join him, frowning at him until he looks up from his phone with a raised brow. “What?”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

Yoongi shrugs. “I’m the hyung.”

Yoongi’s drink is ready first, and he heads to a booth by the window while Jimin waits for his. When the barista slides it across the counter, he thanks her and goes to join him. He’s already got his laptop and sketchbook out, open to some complicated looking design.

“All right,” Yoongi says as soon as Jimin sits. “You’re being awkward. I hate it when things are awkward. So stop being awkward when it was your idea anyway.”

Jimin flushes, slumping back in the booth. He’s still wearing his backpack. He feels like he’s in fight-or-flight mode. One wrong word from Yoongi, and he’ll be out the door before he can blink. “Yeah, well, it was a stupid idea.”

“I could have told you that.”

Jimin bristles. “Well, you didn’t. You agreed.”

“Only because - ” Yoongi pauses. Scowls at his laptop. “Never mind.”

Jimin straightens up immediately. “Woah, woah. You can’t just never mind me. What the hell were you gonna say?”

“It doesn’t matter, Jimin. That’s not the point.”

“You’re not getting out of this. Finish that sentence.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, exasperated. This time, he’s the one who slumps back. “I didn’t know who you were gonna ask if I said no.”


“So you could have asked someone who was gonna be a dick about it.”

“You are being a dick about it.”

“I could be worse,” he fires back. “And I’m not being a dick about it. You’re the one being awkward.”

“Because it is awkward,” he hisses, the flush rising to his cheeks again. All it takes to get him blushing is just the thought of Yoongi’s arms around his waist. And the way Jimin had kissed him first - god, he’s a fucking idiot.

“Look,” Yoongi says, straightening and running a hand through his hair. It falls messily back onto his forehead. “It’s just kissing, okay? I know it feels like a big deal, but it doesn’t have to be. If I’m not awkward about it, you don’t need to be either.”

Jimin plays moodily with the cardboard sleeve on his cup, refusing to look at him. “That’s the problem,” he murmurs. “It’s not a big deal for you, but it’s a big deal for me.”

Yoongi sighs. Jimin catches the way he relaxes out of the corner of his eye. “Jimin-ah, why’d you wanna do it anyway?”

“I told you already.”

“Don’t give me that. We both know hyung isn’t the type of guy to judge anyone for being inexperienced.”

Jimin knows that. That’s exactly why he likes him so much - Yongguk’s so fucking nice . He’s good to him, caring and sweet and funny, and Jimin knows he’d never do that. Never make him feel bad. “Yeah. I know.”

They’re silent for a moment, and the next time Yoongi speaks, it’s a little gentler. “All I’m saying is maybe you should think about why you’re so eager to jump into this before you jump into it, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jimin says, and finally glances up to meet his gaze. “Okay.”


Jimin looks good.

He knows this because he spent an unreasonably long amount of time in front of the mirror making sure of it (unreasonable according to Jungkook, anyway; Jimin had thought it was completely necessary). So even though he’s so nervous his stomach hurts, he can at least take comfort in the undeniable knowledge that today he looks really, really good.

The bakery is mostly empty save for a girl sitting by the window with a pastry. Yoongi’s already sitting at the counter, and he’s dressed so casually that for a moment Jimin feels silly. But he’s Yoongi, and he always looks like that: beanie and face mask and ripped jeans. Yongguk chats with him amiably while he frosts a cupcake. Jimin wonders why the sight of his strong, tatted arms doing such delicate work makes his stomach flutter so much.

“Hey,” he says hesitantly, stepping toward them.

They glance over at the same time. Yoongi just nods, but Yongguk’s mouth stretches into a grin. “Hey, Jiminie, you’re just in time. Cake’s almost ready.”

“I can’t wait.” Jimin settles onto the stool by Yoongi’s side.

He hadn’t expected Yoongi’s text that morning; he’d almost ignored it. It hadn’t been a request, which was mostly why it annoyed him. It was a curt: going to yongguk’s bakery for that cake 2pm come . Given the last time the three of them were together, he thought he was justified in being wary of Yoongi’s intentions. Jungkook and Taehyung had told him to get his head out of his ass.

As if on cue, the cute Tigger-themed timer sitting on the counter dings. Yongguk disappears into the kitchen to fetch the cake, and Yoongi shifts to look at Jimin.

“What the hell is all this?” He flicks the earring dangling from Jimin’s right ear, then scans him head-to-toe. “You really went all out.”

Jimin leans away with a scowl, unable to help the hot flush that rises to his cheeks. Now he feels like an idiot for trying so hard. “Fuck off.”

Unconsciously he makes himself smaller, shoulders slumping, and fiddles mindlessly with a plate of cling-wrapped biscuits. Next to him, Yoongi sighs.

“You look nice, okay? I was just messing with you.”

Jimin shoots him a glance out of the corner of his eye. Yoongi looks awkward, mouth all twisted up, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. “Really?”

“Yeah, now quit pouting, you big baby.” He reaches over to pinch Jimin’s cheek. Hard.

Jimin squeaks, shoving him away. “ Ow .”

Yongguk emerges carrying a platter with a triple-layered cake on it. He sets it on the counter and works on covering it with hot glaze after shooting them both a look. “Why are you two always bickering?”

“He’s annoying,” they reply in unison, then shoot each other dirty looks.

Yongguk’s lip quirks up. “Right,” he says in a tone that suggests otherwise.

“That smells really good, hyung.” Jimin leans his chin in his hand to watch him carefully drizzle glaze over the dessert then scrape it off the sides.

“Wait ‘til you try it,” he says proudly. “You guys are gonna love it.”

True to his word, the cake is probably the best Jimin’s had in a long time. Being nearly useless in the kitchen himself, Jimin’s always been attracted to a man who can cook. It’s one of the many reasons he likes Yongguk so much. They all dig into their slices amid lighthearted conversation; Yongguk’s coworker joins them briefly, another handsome tatted dude named Minho (honestly, Jimin’s life is hard). Minho’s hilarious, has them in stitches over his stories of the shop.

Jimin has the inconvenient habit of falling all over the place when he laughs. It’s so ingrained he doesn’t even think about it, not until he falls into Yoongi and feels the way he tenses, feels how he pulls back. Jimin moves away immediately and makes a firm decision to pay attention when he laughs from then on.

Not long after that, Yoongi takes his leave.

“Namjoon fucked up the oven,” he says with a long-suffering sigh. “I’d better go check on things.”

“Why’s he allowed near the kitchen again?” Yongguk wonders, and Yoongi shakes his head wryly.

Yoongi doesn’t sound as alarmed as he should given the situation, so Jimin watches him go curiously. At the door, Yoongi glances back at him and winks.

Then he gets it.

He’s oddly touched. The word sorry might not be in Yoongi’s dictionary, but at least he knows how to make up for being a dick somehow.

“So,” Yongguk begins, a curious glint in his gaze. “You and Yoongi.”

Jimin blinks. “What do you mean?”

“Something going on?” He feigns nonchalance, cutting Jimin another slice of cake.

Jimin raises his hands in immediate defense. “No, no. God, no. Why would you think that?”

“Well, you’ve never really hung out before. He called you all the way here. You’re wearing eyeshadow. His ears turned fucking red every time you laughed - ”

“They did not!” Jimin exclaims, horrified. He groans, drops his head to the counter and groans again. Of all the ways he’d expected today to turn out, this is absolutely not one of them. He’s here so Yongguk will finally notice him, not for him to think he and Yoongi have a thing .

Yongguk’s laughing. “Cute,” he croons, and Jimin groans again. Cute, cute, always cute. They’re only five years apart. That’s barely an age difference at all.

He lifts his head to firmly say, “Hyung, we don’t even like each other as friends.”

“Right,” Yongguk says in the exact same way he did before.

“You said so yourself, we’re always bickering.”

“Wasn’t it Hoseok who said all that arguing you two do was just pent-up sexual tension?”

Hyung ,” he whines, covering his face to hide the mortification.

Yongguk has another good laugh before he finally says, “I’m sorry, Jiminie, teasing you is just too fun. You’re so cute.”

Jimin grows hot immediately, his heart skipping a beat, stomach clenching. He can’t meet Yongguk’s gaze so he drops his eyes to the counter, willing the flush to fade away before he embarrasses himself further.

“I’m gonna put on some coffee,” Yongguk says. “It’s about to get busy in here, so have some more cake while you can.”

He disappears into the kitchen again, and Jimin bangs his forehead against the counter. That’s what he gets for listening to Yoongi. He should have just stayed home.


Jimin’s on his third cup of coffee in an absurdly short amount of time. He’s getting to the point where he’s so tired the caffeine doesn’t even help, just makes him jittery and restless. Every time he’s about to crash, he gets himself another cup. Foolproof.

“You look like shit.”

It takes him a minute to emerge from squinting, trancelike, at his textbook. He looks up, wrinkling his nose, to find Yoongi standing in front of him dressed like he just got off work. Which, after thinking for another slow moment, Jimin realizes he probably did.

“What are you doing here?” he mumbles, pushing up his glasses to rub his eyes.

“Seok got held up at work. He asked me to step in for him.”

Jimin frowns, blinking, before the situation registers. Then he immediately feels bad, frown deepening as he straightens and clears off the chair next to him so Yoongi can sit. He’d asked Hoseok to help him study for his physics exam since he’d taken the same class before.

“You didn’t have to come,” Jimin says. “You’re probably tired from work. It’s fine if hyung couldn’t make it, I can manage on my own - ”

Yoongi shrugs a shoulder, setting his bag under the table. “Not a big deal. I got off a little early today anyway.”

“Still, you could have gone home and rested - ”

“It’s fine, Jiminie. You look like you’re another hour from melting into the ground.”

Jimin sighs. “I like physics, but this professor’s out to get us. The exams are impossible.”

“Lemme see.” Yoongi tugs his textbook out from under his arms and peers at it. “I had to take a shitload of physics when I was in school. Ah, come on, this stuff’s easy.” He taps the section Jimin’s stuck on. “You made it this far into the semester not knowing this?”

“I know it, I just don’t know it.”


“If you’re gonna be a dick, you can go home,” Jimin huffs.

“I come all the way here to help you and this is what I get?”

“You started it.”

Yoongi goes for his notebook next, flipping through the pages with a clearly unimpressed expression. “Okay, we need to make you a study guide.”

He shifts around for a pen, flips to a clean page, and starts to write. Jimin watches him, stifling a yawn. He’s too tired to be awkward around him today; even so, staring at him too long inevitably brings Jimin to The Kiss(es). He flushes and looks away.

“I’m gonna go get us some food,” Jimin says. “You’re probably hungry.”

“I’m fine.” Yoongi waves him off, still immersed in the notebook. “Don’t worry about me.”

“No, it’s fine.” He stands up decidedly. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

There’s a convenience store just around the corner from the library. Jimin stocks up: ramen, baked eggs, stir-fried instant rice. He grabs bagged americanos for them, too, and sticks the cups of ice that go with them in his bag for later. The library has a microwave, so he heats everything up and carries the food, one-by-one, back to their small table.

“You preparing a feast or something?” Yoongi says dryly, watching his progress.

“It’s convenience store food, hyung, don’t be dramatic.”

Jimin’s been studying without a break for a while now, so he allows himself to close his textbook while he and Yoongi eat.

“How many cups of coffee have you had already?” Yoongi eyes the empty cups scattered around his table with narrowed eyes.

“Probably less than you’ve had today,” Jimin fires back, and Yoongi inclines his head in acknowledgement . They pour their americanos over ice, and Jimin pulls a container of powdered creamer from his backpack to mix in.

“So how’d everything go with hyung?” Yoongi finishes up his first cup of ramen and starts on the second one. “After I left.”

Jimin groans. “Terrible. He said I was cute.”

Yoongi shoots him a glance that’s half-annoyed and half-confused. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“How am I gonna get him to rail me into next year if he just thinks I’m cute ?”

Yoongi chokes on his ramen.

He splutters, coughing, and Jimin reaches over to clap him on the back. It takes him about five more coughs to relax enough to down his coffee, eyes red and watery. Jimin hands him a tissue.

“You want him to what?” Yoongi says, hoarse.

“Rail me into - ”

“Okay, don’t say it again.”

“You asked.”

“Park Jimin. You still get shy over the fact that we made out a bit.”

Jimin flushes almost instantly, which doesn’t help his case. Crossing his arms over his chest, he turns away, willing the heat to go down. It doesn’t. “So?”

Yoongi just shakes his head. “You’re really something.” He goes back to his ramen, tugging Jimin’s notebook into his lap. “So are we going to study or not? Hoseok said if you don’t pass this class, you can’t graduate.”

“Right.” Jimin straightens, panic replacing his embarrassment. “Let’s do this.”


Jimin should probably go home.

He doesn’t mind being alone. It’s just that Howl’s Moving Castle is the kind of movie you watch with people, the kind of movie you have to gush over. That’s what he and Namjoon had been doing until the emergency call from work had sent Namjoon flying out the door with his jacket half-on. Now Jimin’s sitting in the dark with his arms wrapped around his knees in somebody else’s apartment, watching Sophie feed Calcifer eggs.

Not that Namjoon is exactly somebody else . He’s too close a friend to be just that. But it’s still kind of weird, despite Namjoon shouting on his way out that he could stay as long as he wanted. On the other hand, going home doesn’t sound very appealing, not when Jungkook and Taehyung are in the middle of some kind of cold war over a video game.

Howl’s throwing a tantrum when the door opens. He hears slow footsteps and the jingle of keys hitting the countertop. Shifting around to lean on the back of the couch, he watches Yoongi shrug off his coat and set his bag down.

“Hey, hyung,” he says, and Yoongi nods.

“Where’s Joonie?”

“A student tried to break into his office for the answer key to an exam.”


“They caught her, but he had to go sort things out.”

“Sucks.” Yoongi pulls a water bottle from the fridge and takes a swig, coming to sit on the couch by Jimin. “So you’re sitting alone in the dark.”

Jimin flushes, turning back to face the TV. “I was gonna go home soon.”

Yoongi shrugs. “You can stay. Finish the movie.”

The silence that follows is rather uncomfortable. Jimin finds it hard to focus on the movie, too in-tune to Yoongi sitting just a few feet away. Last time they met, it wasn’t awkward, but today’s different. Today Jimin isn’t tired enough to forget his shyness. He sits perfectly still and stares at the TV, fighting the urge to glance over at Yoongi every time he moves.

“Yoongi hyung,” he finds himself saying quietly, almost a whisper. Feels Yoongi glance over. Suddenly he feels like a fool. “Never mind.”



Yoongi leaves it be. Jimin swallows down the urge to blurt his question out anyway, sits quietly and watches the movie. Yoongi shifts, and Jimin glances over at him. He’s looking back. A hot flush rises up Jimin’s neck, and he looks away quickly.

“All right,” Yoongi says. “Spit it out.”

Jimin bites his lip, staring at his hands. He looks over, meeting Yoongi’s eyes in the flickering light of the TV. “If I asked, would you kiss me again?”

He doesn’t know what drives him to say it. Just that it comes out.

Yoongi doesn’t respond for long enough that Jimin starts to squirm, wringing his hands in his lap and regretting ever opening his mouth. But then -

“Depends. On why you were asking.”

Jimin stares at his hands. “Because I liked it,” he mumbles.

He hears the plastic of Yoongi’s water bottle crinkle as he sets it down. “What’s that?” Yoongi says. “I didn’t hear you.”

“Because I liked it,” he mumbles, a tiny bit louder than before.

“Didn’t catch that.” Jimin has known him long enough to recognize the insufferable smugness in his tone. “You’re gonna have to say it a little louder.”

“Shut up. You heard what I said.” He levels a glare on him, notices how Yoongi’s shifted a little closer, how there’s laughter in his gaze.

Yoongi reaches out, the amusement gentling into something else, and takes Jimin’s chin between his fingers. It’s a soft touch. He tilts Jimin’s head toward him. “Say it again,” he murmurs.

Jimin can feel the blush all the way to his ears, wonders if Yoongi can see it with only the TV to light the room. This was a stupid idea from the start. He should pull away, but - “I liked it,” he whispers, and they’re close enough that he can see the way Yoongi’s eyes darken.

When Yoongi kisses him, Jimin’s eyes drift shut automatically. He shifts closer, fingers finding their way to thread in Yoongi’s shirt like always. The last few times they’d kissed Yoongi had started out slow, hesitant, but this time he starts out insistent. Greedy, almost, like he’s trying to steal Jimin’s breath in one go.

Jimin doesn’t have anyone to compare him to, but he thinks Yoongi’s reputation must be true because god, he’s good at this. He has Jimin’s lashes fluttering, head spinning, has him desperate to keep up. When he pulls back, Jimin’s left reeling, gasping for breath.

“Hyung,” he says, leaning into him, then Yoongi’s kissing him again.

Yoongi tugs him closer, nearly in his lap, and Jimin winds his arms around his neck. He finds himself maneuvering to get more comfortable, settling fully into his lap with his knees at Yoongi’s hips. Yoongi’s hands rest at his waist, move up to cup his face, the touch feather-light. He pulls back to kiss him once, twice, tugging his lower lip between his own.

“Still like it?” Yoongi murmurs against his mouth just as his fingers twist into Jimin’s hair.

“Uh-huh,” Jimin says, lids fluttering as Yoongi’s lips travel along his jaw and down his neck.

He drops a delicate kiss under his jaw, and the hand in his his hair pulls his head back so his neck arches. He leaves kisses all the way to his collarbone, soft ones that turn open-mouthed on the way back to his jaw. A shudder runs up Jimin’s spine when he feels Yoongi’s tongue against his skin.

“Yeah?” Yoongi confirms, mouth forming the words against his neck.

“Yeah.” The word breaks off into a quiet moan when Yoongi sucks lightly on a spot that makes his toes curl.

Jimin stiffens immediately, tries pulling back, but Yoongi doesn’t let him. He lets go of his hair and winds his arms around his waist, tugging him in even closer, forcing his legs to spread a little bit wider to accommodate. He pulls back from his neck so he can look at him.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Don’t do that.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to - ”

“Don’t hide.” He brushes his fingers against Jimin’s cheek. Jimin stares at him, eyes wide, still stiff and embarrassed. “You sound pretty.”

"Hyung," Jimin whines, burying his face in Yoongi's shoulder. Yoongi laughs, running a hand over his curved back. "That's embarrassing."

"You're cute," he says, laughter still edging his tone. He pulls Jimin back up and kisses him again.

It's sudden and overwhelming and Jimin gasps into the kiss, leaning into him. He's hyper aware of Yoongi's chest brushing his, his calloused hands against his cheeks, the warmth of his thighs under Jimin's. Everything's just a little too much in a way that's just right.

Yoongi licks into his mouth and the kiss draws out into another one, a brief pause for breath in between where Yoongi noses at his jaw. They kiss until Jimin's dizzy and hot all over, his heart thudding against his chest, then Yoongi's switching them around, pressing him onto his back. Jimin pants, trying desperately to catch his breath while Yoongi mouths at his throat.

"Good?" Yoongi checks in, pushing himself up to hover over Jimin. Jimin's bent knees rest at his hips. He looks as debauched as Jimin feels, mouth swollen and slick, hair falling messily over his forehead.

Jimin nods breathlessly and reaches for him. He comes easily, though not before Jimin catches the smirk tugging at his lips. This time Jimin gives into the urge to thread his fingers through Yoongi's hair, soft and thick against his skin. Yoongi draws a long kiss from him, one that has him whimpering and arching up into him, Yoongi's hand running down his side to cup his hip.

Yoongi presses him into the couch and kisses him hard before pulling back. For a moment they stare at each other, catching their breath. He's glowing in the light of the flickering TV, eyes dark.

"What?" Jimin squirms, growing self-conscious under his gaze.

Yoongi leans in to kiss him softly. “Think that’s enough for tonight,” he says gently as he pulls away. Jimin has to bite his lip to keep from whining at the loss of his warmth. He doesn’t want to stop.

“Okay,” he mumbles, and Yoongi must hear the begrudging tone because he glances back and laughs.

Jimin sits up, running a hand through his mussed hair. He sits there for a moment catching his breath; the movie’s reaching its climax. There isn’t much left of it now. He folds away the blanket he’d been using and clears the table of snacks, then heads for the door to slip on his shoes.

“What are you doing?” Yoongi says, emerging from his room already changed into his sweats and t-shirt.

“I should get home.”

“It’s late. There are hardly any buses running. Just stay here.”

“Thanks, but I’d rather sleep on my bed than your couch.”

“Who said you were sleeping on my couch?” Yoongi picks up his bag and heads for his room, calling over his shoulder, “My bed’s big enough for both of us.”

Jimin stares after him. “Oh.”

He’d started to calm down, but now his heart’s racing again. Jimin’s no stranger to sharing beds; most nights either Jungkook or Taehyung find their way to his, all of them too used to the comfort of another body to like sleeping alone. But this is Yoongi . And they just made out on the couch.

He should probably say no. But it is late, and a part of him flutters happily at the thought of Yoongi’s arms around him.

He slips his shoes back off and pads after Yoongi.


Jimin wakes up warm - too warm.

He blinks sleepily, shifts, realizes he’s not alone and remembers where he is. He never would have taken Yoongi for a cuddler, but he supposes he doesn’t know him all that well. Yoongi’s arm is wrapped tightly around Jimin’s waist, his face buried in his neck. Jimin can feel his chest rise and fall with every breath, can feel the puffs of air against his skin. For a moment he just lies there, thinks that this is kind of nice, kind of comfortable. He’d always wondered what it would be like to wake up in somebody else’s arms.

Then he remembers last night and Yoongi pressing him against the couch, drawing moans out with his kisses, and suddenly he isn’t quite so comfortable anymore.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He doesn’t know what he’s doing and he feels like crying, squeezing his eyes shut until it hurts. It’s just that all this is a big deal to him, even if he’s trying to convince himself it isn’t because that’s what everyone seems to expect. This is a big deal to him, but it isn’t one to Yoongi.

As carefully as he can manage, he extracts himself from Yoongi’s embrace and tiptoes out of the room, pulling the door shut quietly behind him. Then he zooms across the apartment to his shoes waiting by the entryway, snatching his jacket off the couch as he runs. In his haste, he doesn’t notice Namjoon standing in the kitchen until his surprised, “Jimin?”

Jimin glances up from where he’s tugging his shoes on, eyes wide. Namjoon looks confused. Jimin realizes how it looks, coming out of Yoongi’s room in the morning wearing last night’s clothes. Embarrassment turns his face hot. He ducks his head and mumbles, “I gotta go,” before fleeing out the door.


The glance that Taehyung and Jungkook exchange when they wring the story out of him isn’t a good one.

“You just ran out on him?” Taehyung says, almost like he can’t believe Jimin would do such a thing.

“What else was I supposed to do?” Jimin mutters, clutching his pillow to his chest.

“This is Yoongi hyung we’re talking about here, not some random dude you met at the club,” Jungkook says. “He’s your friend.”

“I panicked,” Jimin whispers, guilt sinking his heart down to his stomach. “It’s not like he’ll care. He said this stuff isn’t a big deal.”

“You don’t let someone stay the night if you don’t care,” Taehyung says.

“And anyway, it’s Yoongi hyung,” Jungkook adds. “He cares about everything a little too much.”

Jimin doesn’t know that Yoongi. Lately, he’s started to realize he doesn’t know much about Yoongi at all. “What should I do?” he says miserably. He hadn’t thought he’d hurt his feelings. That wasn’t what he’d meant to do.

“Say sorry,” Taehyung says. “Maybe explain how you’re feeling.”

The thought of talking to Yoongi again fills him with nervous butterflies, intensified now by the sense that he’s messed up. And explaining how he’s feeling - no, he can’t do that. Yoongi would just make fun of him. Call him a kid.

But Taehyung and Jungkook are looking at him like that, and the guilt’s making him feel all pinched up inside. So he summons up the courage to pull out his phone and text Yoongi a quick sorry then buries himself underneath his pillows again.

Yoongi doesn’t answer.


Being around Yongguk makes his heart flutter.

It’s embarrassing the way his stomach clenches and his palms grow sweaty, embarrassing the way he can’t hold eye contact without flushing. It makes it hard to be around him, even though all he wants is to do just that.

Yongguk’s laughing at him. “Haven’t you ever iced a cake in your life?”

“No,” Jimin mutters, ears hot, as he tries to decorate the edges of the sheet cake behind the counter. “I buy them iced, hyung, that’s what you guys are for.”

“You’re awful at this,” Yongguk teases. “Here.”

Suddenly he’s right there, his warmth and the scent of his soap mixed with baked goods enveloping Jimin as he reaches around him to take his hands.

“You’re not holding it right,” he explains, deep voice just by Jimin’s ear.

Jimin’s heart beats so hard he’s afraid it’ll burst right out of his chest. He’d only have to lean back a bit to be pressed against Yongguk. He tries to look at the cake instead of Yongguk’s corded forearms wrapped around him. He wonders what it’d be like to kiss Yongguk, but he finds that he can’t really imagine kissing anyone but Yoongi. The thought makes him feel strange.

The bell above the door chimes.

Yoongi walks in, hands in the pockets of his oversized jacket. His expression sours the instant his eyes meet Jimin’s, before they flicker down to Yongguk’s arms. Jimin turns hot with embarrassment. He clears his throat, and Yongguk moves away.

“Hey, Yoongi. Gimme a sec and I’ll grab your order,” Yongguk says.

Yoongi nods, stopping at the counter. He drums his fingers while he waits for Yongguk to reemerge from the back. He doesn’t look at Jimin.

“Hi, hyung,” Jimin ventures quietly.

Yoongi’s gaze shifts to him. It’s uninterested. Maybe a little annoyed. He responds with a curt nod.

Jimin feels like crying.

Yongguk comes out with a box of muffins and hands them to Yoongi. “Hope your boss likes them,” he says.

“Thanks.” He heads for the door with a wave. “Bye, hyung.”

The door closes behind him, and Jimin’s shoulders slump.

“Something happen between you two?” Yongguk asks, Yoongi’s stony attitude clearly impossible to miss.

“I think I fucked up,” Jimin mumbles.

Yongguk nudges him comfortingly. “I dunno what happened, but in my experience, there are a lot of things that can be fixed by a sincere sorry and something sweet.”

Jimin supposes a one-word text doesn’t really count as sincere. He smiles up at Yongguk. “Thanks, hyung. Maybe you’re right.”


Jimin feels like his heart’s in his throat. He swallows harshly, stomach clenching with nerves. He waits, every passing second making his palms a little sweatier.

The door opens.

Yoongi looks like he just woke up, hair mussed and eyes droopy. He’s dressed in a black t-shirt and baggy sweats. At the sight of Jimin, he crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the door jamb.

“Yes?” he says.

“I, um, wanted to say sorry.” Jimin clears his throat nervously. “For running out on you. And, um, all that.” He shoves the bag between them like a barrier. “This is for you.”

Yoongi stares at him for a moment before he takes it and peeks inside. Then he scoffs. “You got this from Yongguk hyung’s shop?”

“I didn’t,” Jimin defends, flushing red. “‘Cause I knew you’d react like that.”

“React like what?” Yoongi mutters, beginning to look a little embarrassed himself.

"Like you're reacting."

"I'm not reacting like anything."

"You are too."

"Why are you always trying to pick a fight?"

"You're the one who started it - "

"I didn't start anything, you always do this - "

Jimin doesn't know what drives him to do it, just that looking at Yoongi's stupid, stubborn face makes him furious but he can't stop thinking about him, either. And last night he'd had a dream about Yoongi kissing him in places other than his mouth, and he's felt like he's on edge all day. So even though it's stupid, Jimin steps up and kisses him.

Yoongi responds right away, free hand circling around his waist. But he breaks it off before long. Pulls back just enough to look at him, licking his lips, gaze caught on Jimin's mouth.

"Jimin," he says quietly, and Jimin flushes.

He tries to pull away. "Sorry. I shouldn't have done that - "

Yoongi doesn't let him tug away, holding him tight. "Hey. Shut up for a second and listen to me."

Jimin begrudgingly snaps his mouth shut.

"I don't - " Yoongi clears his throat. He looks uncomfortable, won't meet Jimin's eyes. "I don't wanna help you practice anymore."

A rush of heat floods to Jimin's face. His head drops. He stares at the tiny space between their feet. "Oh."

"Not like - don't look like that, let me finish."

"I'm not stopping you," he mumbles, dragging his gaze reluctantly back up.

"I think you should figure out what you want. In terms of Yongguk hyung and everything."


"And then," he pauses, shrugging. "I don't wanna be there for you to practice but maybe if you wanna do something else, I'd be down."

"Something else," Jimin says slowly, brows furrowed.

"Right." Yoongi clears his throat again. Rubs the back of his head. Then he pulls away. "I gotta go do some shit. I'll see you around."

Jimin stares at him, still confused, and nods.

"You know where to find me. If you need me."

With that, he closes the door between them.


"He wants to bone. Hey, look, that one looks like an upside down lion."

"Excuse me?" Jimin splutters, pushing himself up to his elbows so he can look over at Taehyung, who's staring serenely at the sky with grass tickling his hair.

"How the hell does that look like a lion?" Jungkook mutters, sounding personally offended. "Obviously it's an elephant wearing a tutu."

"This is what happens when you don't wear your glasses."

"Can you guys shut up?" Jimin demands. "Taehyung, what did you say to me?"

"I said he wants to bone you. You heard me."

"What do you mean he wants to bone me - "

"Boning," Jungkook intones, "slang term commonly used in place of fucking."

"Fucking is slang, too, Jungkookie," Taehyung says, and Jungkook reaches around Jimin to smack him in the stomach.

"Guys," Jimin whines, falling on his back again to pout at the sky. "I'm serious. This is a serious situation here."

"You asked me what I thought he meant. I gave you an answer. How am I not being serious?" Taehyung jerks, waving his arm excitedly in the direction of another cloud. "It's a circus."

"How can a cloud look like a circus?" Jungkook groans, covering his face with his hands.

"I don't get it," Jimin mumbles. "Explain."

Jungkook takes the reins. He turns on his side to look at Jimin, propping his head up with his hand. "First, he told you to figure out what you want with Yongguk. In other words, are you available or not? Then, he said he wouldn't be down for practicing, but he'd be down for something else. Which means he wants something more legitimate."

"He wants to know where you stand," Taehyung agrees.

"Are you guys the masters of Yoongi speak or something?"

"Nope." Taehyung pops the 'p' for effect. "Just good at boys. Well, I dunno about Jungkook, he's pretty oblivious. But I know my way around dick."

"Hey," Jungkook exclaims, and Jimin just sighs.

"So what do I do?"

"Well," Taehyung starts. "You have to do what he asked, right? Figure out where you stand first. Then you can go from there."

"You still like Yongguk hyung, don't you?"

"I do, I just - " Jimin falters, playing with the hem of his shirt. He doesn't really know how to explain it; he doesn't understand it himself. It's just that he can't stop thinking about Yoongi. Sometimes thinking about him makes his stomach hurt, but not in a bad way. In a fluttery way.

Which isn't all that different from how he feels about Yongguk.

"You like Yoongi hyung too?" Jungkook guesses.

"I dunno," he says honestly. "This whole thing was just a stupid idea. It's made everything so confusing."

"Maybe it's a good thing," Taehyung suggests. "Maybe you needed to figure some stuff out."

"Yeah." They lie there in comfortable silence for a moment before Jimin flops over and flings his arms over both of them. "You guys are the best."

"You're smothering me," Jungkook complains, but he doesn't pull away.

"Love you, too, Jiminie."


Namjoon throwing a party usually means the heart of their friend group convened on the floor of his living room with a cloud of smoke around their heads. He isn't big on alcohol; that tends to come from Jimin, Seokjin, and Yoongi. Jimin comes prepared as always, lining the counter with bottles of tequila and whiskey as everyone begins to gather.

Seokjin's helping him mix drinks according to the shouted requests from the living room, making him laugh with his usual silly jokes. Jimin's a little nervous, given that this is Yoongi's apartment, too. But Seokjin seems to sense something's off.

"There's nothing a little tequila can't fix," Seokjin says cheerfully.

Jimin just rolls his eyes. He's not looking to get too drunk tonight, not after what happened the last time he did that around Yoongi. Tonight, he's going to be careful.

The front door slams. Yoongi kicks his shoes off at the door and approaches them, loaded down with 24-packs of beer. He sets them on the counter and tugs down his hood. Jimin swallows, but Yoongi just looks at him and nods. They haven't spoken since Jimin's apology.

"Do we really need that much beer?" Jimin says dryly.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, jerking a head toward the jugs lining the counter. "Do we really need that much tequila?"

He shrugs his jacket off, leaving it lying on a barstool before disappearing into the living room. Jimin stares at the discarded clothing with annoyance.

“He’s so messy,” Jimin mutters.

“You’re kidding,” Seokjin says. “You can’t even see the floor of your bedroom.”

Jimin huffs and goes back to mixing drinks.

Namjoon and Hoseok are already rolling blunts on the coffee table when Seokjin and Jimin carry in the drinks. Jimin makes his rounds, checking if everyone has what they want, even bringing a beer out for Yoongi.

“Why are you being such a shit host, hyung?” Hoseok hollers across the room. “This is your apartment, you make the drinks.”

“Jimin’s got it,” Yoongi responds easily. “He practically lives here anyway.”

Jimin shoots him a glare and plops down between Seulgi and Sana with his drink in hand. They ignore each other after that, and Jimin lets himself ease up.

At least until Yongguk shows up.

He hadn’t expected him to come. Yongguk rarely makes it to late night things, and no one had mentioned him. But Yongguk turns up with a tray full of cookies for everyone, and Jimin can’t do anything but wave in surprise. When he turns back, he realizes Yoongi’s staring at him. As soon as he catches it, Yoongi’s gaze flickers away.

“What are you all dressed up for?” Seulgi asks, picking at the fishnets visible through the tears in Jimin’s jeans.

“Hey,” Sana interrupts, already getting to tipsy, “you never need an excuse to look hot.”

“She has a point,” Jimin agrees, even though he did have an excuse. One he’s trying very hard not to admit to himself, despite Taehyung’s knowing look when he’d walked out of his room that evening.

He broke out his hot jeans , Taehyung had said to Jungkook later. This is getting serious .

It seems not to have mattered, though, his torn jeans and fishnets and slinky tank. Yoongi has barely looked at him. Jimin’s beginning to think Taehyung was wrong in assuming Yoongi’s interested in him.

Not that he should care. Which he doesn’t. Not really.

“Jimin-ah,” Yongguk calls, and Jimin glances up. He’s smoking with Bora and Hakyeon on either side of him. He looks handsome today, like always, but Jimin has the sudden realization that he’s barely thought about him since he walked into the room. He’s been too focused on Yoongi. “Have some of the cookies, your favorite’s mixed in there somewhere.”

Jimin smiles. “Thanks, hyung.”

He crouches by the table and sifts around for the macadamia nut. He gets distracted by Seulgi after that, who’s fallen into a fit of giggles from the weed, her infectious laughter spreading to the rest of them. By the time he thinks about him again, Yoongi’s gone.

That’s not anything unusual. He tends to disappear in the middle of parties, has done it more than once; Jimin knows this isn’t his scene, not when there are so many people. He leans over the back of the couch and sees that Yoongi’s bedroom door is closed. Sliding back into his seat, he tries to mask the disappointment. He doesn’t even know what he’s disappointed for.

He returns to the kitchen to make himself another drink, annoyed at himself for fixating on Yoongi like this. It shouldn’t be this hard to stop thinking about someone - especially when that someone’s Yoongi . They can’t go five minutes without arguing. He can’t have a crush on someone he can barely stand.

Yoongi’s jacket is still lying on the barstool. Jimin grabs himself a beer and glares at it hard enough that he almost expects to burn a hole into the cloth. He picks it up, determined to shove it in a coat closet somewhere, and finds that it’s awfully nice and warm in his hands. He’s kind of cold. His tank top might look good, but he’s had goosebumps on his arms for a while now.

At least, that’s what he tries to tell himself.

“Why are you wearing my jacket?”

Jimin spins around. Yoongi’s standing there, empty beer can in hand, staring at him. He looks rather taken aback. Heat spreads to Jimin’s cheeks; the jacket’s loose on his figure, swallowing him up. “I - um - I was cold,” he stammers, taking a step back and bumping into the counter.

Yoongi closes the distance between him. They’re eye-level. Jimin wants to duck away, but Yoongi’s gaze pins him there.

“Sorry,” Jimin mumbles, “I’ll take it off.”

“Keep it on,” Yoongi says, reaching behind him to grab another can. His chest brushes Jimin’s briefly. “You look good.”

“Oh.” Jimin’s good at talking, good at charming people, but somehow when it comes to Yoongi, he’s always flustered. Always tongue-tied.

Yoongi doesn’t move away. He looks like he’s pinned in place just as much as Jimin is. Jimin’s gaze flickers down to Yoongi’s mouth, and for the briefest of seconds Yoongi leans in like he’s going to kiss him. Then he pulls away and leaves the kitchen without another word.

“Fuck,” Jimin groans, running a hand through his hair. If he doesn’t get Yoongi to kiss him by the end of the night, he’s going to go crazy.

They don’t party like they used to, back when more of them were still in university, so things start to wrap up before long. Yongguk and Seokjin offer to walk the girls home, and Hakyeon follows soon after. Jimin helps a stumbling Namjoon clean up as much as they can. Taehyung and Jungkook are passed out on the couch.

“Feel free to stay,” Hoseok tells Jimin, grabbing a blanket from the coat closet and flinging it over the two of them.

“Night, hyung,” Jimin says, and Hoseok follows Namjoon into his room.

The quiet is deafening. He stands there listening to Jungkook snore and doesn’t feel even a bit sleepy. He’s a little tipsy, so that makes the decision easier. Before he can overthink it, he’s stopping outside Yoongi’s door. He can hear movement inside so he knows Yoongi’s still awake.

“Yoongi hyung,” he says, knocking softly.


“Can I come in?”

There’s a moment of silence, then, “Yeah.”

Jimin slips inside. The only light comes from the moon spilling through his open curtains and his glowing laptop screen. Yoongi’s smoking a cigarette on his bed with the window cracked.

“What’s up?”

Jimin shrugs. Yoongi’s jacket slips off his shoulder. He stops at the foot of his bed. “I was bored.”

“Is everyone gone?”


“Are you staying?”

Jimin sits on the edge of his bed. Yoongi doesn’t take his eyes off him once. “Everyone went to sleep.”

“You should sleep, too.”

Jimin sucks in his breath and lies down before he can stop himself. He shifts until he’s comfortable on his back, staring up at Yoongi by his side. “Taehyung and Jungkookie are hogging the couch. Can I sleep here?’

Yoongi snorts, finally tearing his gaze away from him. “You’re already lying down.”

Jimin stretches an arm up, pillowing it under his head. His tank top rides up, showing off the band of his fishnets peaking above his jeans. He knows he looks good today. Knows Yoongi likes him in his jacket at least, if he hasn’t paid attention to anything else.

“I’ll get up if you want me to,” he murmurs.

“You can stay,” Yoongi allows, stubbing his cigarette out on the ashtray by his bed. This time when he looks at Jimin, his eyes flicker down to the line of bare skin.

“Do you like them?” Jimin breathes, flushing at his own boldness. He runs a hand down his chest until he reaches the band and snaps it.

“Does it matter?” Yoongi licks his lips. “You didn’t wear them for me.”

“What if I did?”

Yoongi looks away and scoffs. “Liar.”

“I did,” Jimin insists, pushing himself onto his elbows. “I wore them for you, but you didn’t even look.”

“You’re kidding.” Yoongi turns to him, gaze dark and annoyed, brow furrowed. “I didn’t look because I thought if I looked too long, I wouldn’t be able to control myself.”

“Oh.” Jimin blushes, casting his gaze downward, and quietly says, “Well, you don’t have to control yourself now.”

Yoongi groans. “You’re driving me fucking crazy, Jimin-ah.” He runs a frustrated hand through his hair, shoulders tense. “Did you figure out what you want yet or not?”

“Yes,” Jimin whispers. Seeing Yongguk today had made everything so much clearer. It’d felt just like seeing a friend, nothing different. “I want you.”

The tension they’ve been holding all night snaps when Yoongi surges forward to kiss him, and it pours out in the way they pull at each other, lips bruising. Yoongi presses Jimin into the bed, the line of their bodies molding together, his hand snaking up Jimin’s shirt to fiddle with the waistband of his fishnets. He breaks from Jimin’s mouth to kiss his neck, wet and open-mouthed, his hand wandering higher, brushing Jimin’s nipple. Jimin whines, arching into him, his hips pressing against Yoongi’s.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot,” Yoongi says, voice throaty, lips pressed against Jimin’s ear.

Jimin whines again, rolling his hips for much-needed friction when Yoongi starts to flick his nipple lightly. Yoongi meets his hips with his own, grinding against him, their clothed cocks brushing. Jimin’s mouth parts in a gasp, and he clutches Yoongi’s back.

“Ah, fuck,” he breathes. “Do that again.”

Yoongi rolls his hips hard, and Jimin ruts up to meet him.

Hyung - ” he breathes, and Yoongi steals the word from him with a kiss.

They settle into a rhythm, grinding against each other in a way that has the pleasure heating Jimin’s body, their mouths meeting again and again as they move together.

“You gonna come like this, baby?” Yoongi murmurs, mouthing at the shell of his ear, his hands tracing down Jimin’s bare sides to cup his ass and pull their hips more firmly together. His low voice has Jimin shuddering. “Gonna make a mess of yourself for me?”

“Please,” Jimin whimpers, the roll of his hips growing sloppy from desperation. He knew he wanted Yoongi, but he didn’t realize just how badly until he had his mouth on him again. Now he feels like he’s going wild with it, desire clawing at his skin, desperate for something, anything, to ease the heat.

“What do you want?” Yoongi asks, and Jimin wonders how he’s so composed when Jimin’s writhing, doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“Wanna - wanna come - ”

Yoongi lets go of him, soothing him with a kiss when he whines in complaint, and unbuttons Jimin’s pants, shoving them down to his thighs. He does the same with his own then presses their hips together again. With just the thin cloth of their underwear in between, the friction of their cocks rubbing together feels that much more intense.

“Come, Jiminie,” Yoongi urges, their hips snapping together.

Jimin feels his muscles tightening, eyes rolling back into his head as he clutches Yoongi tightly, arching against him. His hips pick up speed, rutting frantically against Yoongi’s until the pleasure finally peaks, his muscles tightening until they hurt. He falls loose when he comes, exhausted, panting for breath. Yoongi shudders against him, and they collapse onto the bed, curled up in each other as they come down from the high.

“Shit,” Jimin mutters, turning his head just enough to press his lips against Yoongi’s jaw. “That was - wow.”

Yoongi hums his agreement. He disentangles from Jimin and slips off the bed, padding toward the bed.

“Where are you going?” Jimin asks, beginning to panic a little, wondering if he’s going to leave -

“To get us some tissues, unless you wanna sleep with cum in your underwear,” Yoongi says dryly. When he glances back, his gaze is soft, like he knows what Jimin was thinking. “I’ll be right back.”

“Oh,” Jimin mumbles. “Yeah. Tissues.”

True to his word, he’s back in a moment with wads of toilet paper. Jimin turns away from Yoongi to clean himself up, shy again. He takes his fishnets off, not ready to sleep in them, and crawls into the bed next to Yoongi, who tugs the blanket over them.

“Night, Jiminie,” Yoongi says, sounding half-asleep already. He slings an arm loosely over Jimin’s waist.

“Night,” Jimin whispers.  


Jimin wakes up feeling smothered. Yoongi's arms are tight around his waist, face pressed into his back. Twice means it isn't a fluke; Yoongi's definitely a cuddler. He tries to extricate himself just for some breathing room, but Yoongi's grip tightens around him.

"You're not gonna run out on me again, are you?"

Yoongi's voice, low and rough from sleep, tickles his ear and sends a shiver up Jimin's spine. He flushes, remembering the way Yoongi had sounded last night, the way he'd felt against him.

"No," he mumbles, even though instinctually he wants to, can't bear to face him. He swats Yoongi's arm away and buries his face in the pillow, red to his ears.

Yoongi grumbles something and flings his arm back over him, burrowing into his back. Jimin lies perfectly still, breathing shallowly. Last night was good. Amazing. But now he's back to square one because stuff like this is easy for Yoongi and it isn't for Jimin. He doesn't know what any of this means to Yoongi, if it means anything at all. This could just be routine for him, could be no different than any other -

"Stop thinking so hard, you're gonna give me a migraine."

Jimin elbows him. "How do you know I'm thinking hard, huh?"

"I can hear it. Stop."

"I'm not thinking about anything."

"Liar." Yoongi curls a hand through Jimin's hair. "Don't run away this time. Just tell me."

Jimin unearths himself from the pillow. They lie facing each other, inches between their noses. Yoongi looks sleepy in an endearing way, hair tousled and eyes droopy. He looks soft. That makes it easier to tell him. "You know all this means a lot to me, right?"

Yoongi doesn't interrupt. He blinks sleepily and waits for Jimin to gather his thoughts.

“Um, this is kind of a big deal ‘cause I’ve never done it before and that just - freaks me out.”

“Lemme ask you something.”

Jimin nods for him to go ahead.

“If your first kiss was so important, why’d you just give it away like that?”

“Because it was too important.” Jimin casts his gaze downward, staring at their hands lying in the space between them. “Because I didn’t want it to be such a big deal anymore.”

“There’s nothing wrong with saving your first for someone special.”

“I know, it just - just felt like everyone was running ahead of me and I was just stuck. Waiting.”

“You’re an idiot,” Yoongi says easily. Before Jimin can even frown, he threads their fingers together. “Worry about yourself. Not anyone else.”

“I know,” Jimin sighs.

“We shouldn’t do this. Not if it freaks you out so much.”

“It doesn’t,” Jimin blurts, holding his hand a little tighter. “It’s just, um, it feels kind of shitty because everything means so much to me but you don’t really care, it’s not a big deal to you, so - ”

“Who says?” he demands, mouth curving downward. “Who says I don’t care?”

“You told me this stuff isn’t a big deal. I just - figured.”

“Just ‘cause I don’t think kissing is a big deal doesn’t mean I don’t care.”


“If you want me to sprinkle rose petals on the bed next time I make you come, just tell me.” Jimin sputters, but Yoongi doesn’t falter. “I don’t know what you want unless you tell me, so just talk to me, okay?”

“Okay,” Jimin says, and he feels a little lighter. A little less lost.

Yoongi stretches with his fists in the air, yawning. “So rose petals when we fuck, check, you gonna make me cook you breakfast, too? Because I’m still sleepy.”

“You’re so annoying,” Jimin exclaims, smacking his shoulder. He rolls out of bed himself, landing on his feet neatly and uncurling into a long stretch. Grabbing his jeans off the floor, he shimmies into them.

“Can’t believe you wore jeans with holes under the ass and thought I wouldn’t notice.”

“Shut up!” Laughter ruins his stretch. He snatches Yoongi’s jacket off the floor and tugs it on, heading for the door.

He shuffles into the kitchen and finds everyone else sitting at the kitchen table like they’re waiting.

“So,” Taehyung says, and Jimin freezes.

“You and Yoongi, huh?” Hoseok finishes, and Jimin flushes all the way down his chest.

“Don’t worry about it,” he shouts, and turns around to run back into Yoongi’s room.


One Saturday afternoon, Jimin gets an unexpected call from Yoongi.

"What are you doing right now?" Yoongi asks when Jimin answers with a slightly confused hello .

"Uh, studying?"

"You have an exam?"

"No, just doing some stuff ahead of time."

"Cool, I'm picking you up in twenty minutes."

"Wait, what - "

Yoongi hangs up.

Jimin grumbles the whole time he's changing out of his old sweats and ratty t-shirt. Inconsiderate, bossy, and annoying are only a few of his choice words. Taehyung calls him out on his bullshit rather quickly.

"If you thought he was so annoying, you wouldn't be dumping your whole closet on the floor to find the perfect outfit."

"Fuck you, I am not!" Jimin calls from inside his room. He is, in fact, dumping his whole closet on the floor to dig for the right sweater.

Yoongi knocks on their door thirty minutes later instead of twenty. Jimin complains for the full ten minutes before he makes it, even though he isn't even done changing. He has to ask Taehyung to occupy him while he finishes wiggling into his jeans. When he finally leaves his room, Taehyung's taking a sip from Yoongi's coffee and gagging.

"Disgusting," he says.

Yoongi grins and holds out a hand. "You owe me 1000 won."

"The bet was that I wouldn't cry , not that I wouldn't gag ."'

"I'm pretty sure that wet shit in your eyes counts as tears - "

"I'm ready," Jimin announces, draping a bag across his chest to dangle at his waist.

Yoongi gives him a onceover. "What took you so long?" he says, then heads for the door. "I'm collecting next time, Kim Taehyung."

Jimin huffs and scurries to follow him out.

"This is cute," Yoongi says, pinching the sleeve of Jimin's sweater. He doesn't look at him when he says it, staring resolutely at the elevator doors. "Probably not the best for where we're going though."

Jimin scowls. He likes his outfit: oversized, comfy sweater and tight black jeans. He knows he looks cute. "Well, maybe if you'd told me where we were going."

"Cat cafe."

"Cat cafe," Jimin repeats slowly, peering at him as the doors slide open.

"I had an extra coupon," Yoongi mutters a little defensively, rubbing the back of his head. "And you like cats."

"I do like cats." Jimin adjusts his bag and bounces after him through the parking lot, a secret smile tugging at his lips. "If we're going to a cafe, how come you already have coffee?"

"It's almost done."

"So you're going to just get more? Right after this one?"

"Quit judging me, Park Jimin."

"You're an addict."

"Like you don't drink six cups when you're studying."

There aren't any open seats on the bus, so they grab onto adjacent straps and try not to fall into each other. Jimin's a little nervous now that they're so close again. They haven't really spoken since the party, aside from a few texts here and there about inconsequential things. He doesn't really know how these things are supposed to work, or when it's okay to hang out again, or if hang outs are always going to be like last time. The other night he'd lain awake wondering if they counted as friends with benefits. Then he'd wondered if they even counted as friends.

A particularly sharp turn has Jimin falling into Yoongi. Yoongi catches him with an arm around his waist, and the brief warmth of their bodies pressed together before Jimin pulls away makes him blush. He's comforted to see that Yoongi looks rather awkward, too, his ears turning pink.

“Is this a date?” Jimin blurts when the bus jerks to a stop.

Yoongi clears his throat and looks away. Pink spreads across his cheeks. “I mean, I don’t see why you need to put a label on it - ”

“It’s a date,” Jimin says, satisfied.

The cafe is only a few blocks from the bus stop. Yoongi seems like he’s still thrown off by the date question, so he doesn’t say much. But Jimin bounces along happily, swinging his arms and humming under his breath. Min Yoongi’s taking him on a date. If you’d told Jimin that three months ago, he would have laughed himself to tears.

The cafe’s cute and small with wooden floors and colorful, cozy armchairs. As soon as they step inside, Jimin spots a tiny black cat sitting in front of the pickup counter. He can’t hold back his exclamation of delight and zooms straight for her.

“Hi, baby,” he croons, sitting down with his legs crossed and reaching for her. The cat comes easily, clearly used to playing with customers, and settles right in his lap. She’s soft and clean, nuzzling into his chest like they’ve known each other forever. “You’re so pretty. What’s your name?”

Her collar reads Lucy . He’s stroking her tiny head carefully when Yoongi calls, “Yah, Jimin-ah, what do you want to drink?”

He glances up in surprise, having forgotten for a moment that this was a cafe and not just a place to play with cats. Yoongi’s waiting at the register. “Just iced coffee, please. I can pay, hyung - ”

Yoongi just points at himself and firmly says, “Hyung.” Then he holds his phone out to pay.

Jimin’s still nuzzling Lucy when the barista calls out their drinks. Yoongi grabs them and comes for him, gesturing for him to follow. He stands reluctantly, setting Lucy down with a sad little wave. When he slips into the adjacent room with all the couches and armchairs, Lucy follows, bouncing at his feet.

“She likes you,” Yoongi notes.

There are more cats all over the room, sitting on the backs of chairs or basking in the sunlight streaming through the windows. Jimin grabs his drink and plops back down on the floor to play with Lucy and another little grey cat who waddles over. Yoongi picks a couch by the window and looks content just sipping his coffee and stroking the cat who sits on the arm right next to him. There’s no one else in the cafe, given the odd time of day, but Jimin’s glad. More cats for him.

The next time Jimin bothers to look up, Yoongi’s on the floor in front of the couch with three cats around him: one in his lap, one at his knee, and the last curled up to his side. Jimin bursts into laughter at the sight, Yoongi who’s always sort of reminded him of a cat surrounded by so many of them.

“You’re a magnet,” he giggles, pulling out his phone to snap a picture. Yoongi presses his lips into a line and flashes a disgruntled peace sign. “So cute.” Jimin takes the liberty of sending the picture to all their friends.

“If you sent that to Namjoon, I’ll kill you.”

“Too late.”

Yoongi groans. The noise disturbs the cat in his lap, who stirs sleepily, and he pets his head in apology. “He’s never gonna let me live that down.”

Jimin just grins at him and scoots a little closer so he can get to know Yoongi’s cats, too. Lucy stays tucked up against his side. He’d thought she was his favorite, but he’s starting to realize it’s impossible to pick one. That’s like picking your favorite child.

“Does this even count as a date if you aren’t paying attention to me?” Jimin says conversationally, watching Yoongi boop the nose of a pretty calico cat.

“You took one step inside and forgot I even existed,” Yoongi huffs. “Anyway, who said it was a date?”

“I did.”

“Do I have any say in the matter?”

“This was your idea.” Jimin sighs into Lucy’s fur. She’s so soft and friendly. Some of the cats have taken to ignoring them entirely, but Lucy looks like she would go home with him right there.

His phone buzzes on the floor between them, startling the cats. They both glance at it on instinct. It’s a text from Yongguk. Jimin looks up at Yoongi; Yoongi looks away. He picks up his phone and checks.

“Hyung says you look cute.”

“You’re killing my reputation,” Yoongi mutters. They’re quiet. Then - “What do you like so much about him?”

Jimin blinks.

“Just curious. I know you have a type, and he fits, but.”

“Who said I had a type?”

“Come on, Jiminie, everyone knows you have a type.”

“I do not,” Jimin mutters, face hot.

Yoongi shrugs, returning his attention to the cat in his lap. Jimin frowns at his bowed head, sensing that Yoongi isn’t saying everything he means to be saying, but not really sure what he means at all. “Quit pouting, I was just asking.”

“I’m not pouting,” Jimin protests, lips curved into a pout.

“What’s this, then?” Yoongi reaches out and presses his thumb against Jimin’s lower lip. Jimin stares at him, eyes widening just a touch, and Yoongi returns it. He looks taken aback, too, like he hadn’t thought it through. He pulls his hand away.

They’re awkwardly quiet, the sounds of the cats purring and occasionally meowing filling the air between them. “He’s nice to me,” Jimin finally mumbles. “But I don’t - I don’t like him anymore. Remember?”

Yoongi glances up. “Wasn’t sure how much you meant it.”

“I thought I was clear enough.”

I want you , he’d said. Still, the look Yoongi’s turning on him is unsure, so Jimin scoots forward until their knees bump and kisses him. It’s a soft, hesitant kiss, but Yoongi returns it right away, his hand wrapping around the side of Jimin’s neck. Jimin leans in, and one of the cats yowls in protest. They break apart, laughing.

“Hey,” Yoongi says. “Lemme suck you off.”

Jimin splutters, putting his hands over Lucy’s ears. She stares at him. “ Hyung .”

“What?” Yoongi blinks. “Just asking.”

“We’re in a cafe .”

“And they probably have a bathroom.”

“Oh my god .” He tugs Lucy into his chest like a barrier. Yoongi stares at him, the glint in his eyes a little mischievous, the corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk. Even now, Yoongi’s favorite thing is getting under Jimin’s skin. He opens his mouth to protest, but then he thinks about it, really thinks about it, and a spark of heat grows under his skin. Something about the tension of being caught has him licking his lips.

Yoongi catches it, his smirk growing wider. “I think it’s that way.” He raises a hand to point to the back of the cafe, where a cutely-decorated sign has the word “restrooms” with an arrow. His eyes don’t leave Jimin’s.

“Why now?” Jimin presses, though in his heart he’s already said yes.

“You look cute in that sweater,” he muses.

Jimin flushes. He sets Lucy aside carefully and stands. “You’re unbelievable,” he says, then marches straight toward the bathrooms.

He pauses before rounding the corner, waiting for Yoongi to catch up, who’s extracting himself from all the cats who have taken a liking to him. Yoongi makes it over, resting a hand on Jimin’s waist under his sweater, brushing his bare side. Jimin’s skin tingles where he touches.

“You seem pretty on board for someone who thinks I’m unbelievable.”

Jimin elbows him.

Yoongi nudges him back, still grinning in that insufferable way of his. “Got a kink you need to tell me about, Jiminie?”

Jimin shoves him into the bathroom door, but Yoongi just laughs, tugging him in after himself. “This was your idea.”

“Takes two to tango - ” Yoongi starts, but Jimin shoves him again, unable to stop the laughter bubbling up his throat. It’s a one-person bathroom, Jimin realizes when the door swings shut behind them.

“Shut up,” he laughs.

Yoongi cuts him off with a kiss that has him reeling, pressing him against the door. Jimin registers the lock click as he arches into Yoongi, head spinning. Yoongi breaks away, trailing kisses down his neck, leaving him gasping for breath. Jimin’s still panting when Yoongi drops to his knees, nosing under his sweater. He feels Yoongi’s mouth on his stomach and gasps, a shiver running up his spine.

Yoongi unbuttons Jimin’s pants, head still partially obscured by his sweater. Jimin clutches the hem in his hands, lifting it up so he can watch him, his heart thudding painfully hard in his chest. The sight of Yoongi on his knees, mouth hovering just over Jimin’s crotch, has heat stirring in Jimin’s belly. He swallows harshly.

Yoongi’s never seen his cock before, so Jimin’s a little shy, flushed, as Yoongi tugs his pants and underwear down just enough to look.

“Cute,” Yoongi coos, staring unabashedly. Jimin isn’t quite hard yet, but the tickle of Yoongi’s breath is getting him there.

“Hyung,” he finds himself whining. “Don’t call my dick cute .”

“But it is,” Yoongi murmurs. “So cute.”

He kisses the base, and Jimin shivers again, biting his lip. He takes Jimin’s cock in his hand and strokes it, kissing the tip lightly but enough to make Jimin gasp. His lips travel from tip to base, the brush of them so soft it’s almost painful. Jimin squirms against the door, tense and on edge.

“Don’t tease,” he complains.

Yoongi takes him in his mouth, and Jimin sees stars.

He sucks around Jimin’s cock, hollowing his cheeks, and Jimin can’t stop himself from crying out, hips snapping off the door. “Sorry,” he gasps, but Yoongi takes it in stride, swallowing him down until Jimin’s cock hits the back of his throat. Jimin shoves his fist in his mouth, moaning around it, forcing his hips to stay still as Yoongi’s throat closes tight and wet around him.

It feels so good Jimin doesn’t know what to do with himself, muscles tensing to the painful, his eyes rolling back in his head, the pleasure building so quickly he’s sure he’s going to come already. He’s pretty sure he’s never felt this good before. Yoongi slides off to the tip, sucking lightly.

“Fuck,” Jimin gasps, hand falling to fist in Yoongi’s hair. “Holy fuck.”

Yoongi pulls off, staring up at him. “Good?” he asks, his voice hoarse. Jimin can tell by the curve of his lips that he knows it’s better than good, better than anything Jimin could have dreamed of.

“Good,” Jimin breathes, letting his eyes drift shut briefly. The sight of Yoongi is almost too much for him to handle - swollen lips, drool on his chin, hair mussed.

Yoongi swallows him down again, and Jimin’s eyes fly back open, his mouth dropping in a soundless cry. Yoongi moves up and down, his fingers forming a ring around his mouth, and Jimin shudders, taking his hand out of Yoongi’s hair for fear of tugging too hard.

“Ah, Yoongi - ”

Jimin presses a hand over his mouth, writhing against the door, Yoongi’s pace rhythmic and noisy. The thought that someone might hear them despite how hard Jimin’s trying to stay quiet makes him hot with shame. He can feel the tension building, knows he’s close, yanks Yoongi’s hair a bit too hard to warn him. Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind - he moans around Jimin’s cock, and the vibration sends Jimin over the edge, cock twitching as he spills into Yoongi’s mouth. Yoongi swallows every drop before pulling off with a pop.

Legs wobbling, Jimin sinks to the floor, gasping for breath. “Oh my god,” he groans. “You’re amazing.”

Yoongi looks smug and a little obscene. “I know.”

“Oh my god,” Jimin says again, realizing, “I came so fucking fast.” He fights the urge to bury his face in his arms out of embarrassment.

“I’m flattered,” Yoongi says, sounding even more smug than he looks. Jimin isn’t too far gone to feel himself stir at the rough sound of Yoongi’s voice. “Back to the cats?”

Jimin groans. “I can’t face them after this. You’re gonna have to take me home.”

Yoongi just laughs.


Yoongi's got his mouth on Jimin's neck and a hand down his pants when Jimin decides it's the right time to blurt, "Would you have sex with me?"

Admittedly, perhaps, not the best time to ask Yoongi to take his virginity. Jimin doesn't really mean to ask. It just slips out, like things do when they've been balancing on the edge of your tongue for days.

Yoongi freezes, then pulls away slowly, slipping his hand back out of Jimin's pants. He sits back on his haunches, staring at him, hair a mess from Jimin's hands. "I mean, we've kind of been - "

Jimin flushes, still a little breathless, and licks his lips. Ever since the cafe, they’ve been seeing each other quite a lot. "I know, I mean like - like, you know. Would you fuck me."

"You mean like - "

"Like put your dick in my ass, yes," Jimin says, exasperated, and Yoongi flounders.


He looks so thrown off guard that Jimin can't help but take it badly, an ugly swirling in his stomach as he backtracks. "Never mind, I shouldn't have said anything, I'm sorry - "

"No, wait, I'm just - you just surprised me. That's all."

They stare at each other, heavy silence in the air. The ugly feeling doesn't go away. Jimin's overwhelmed with embarrassment, wants to melt into the floor. Can't believe he'd even thought of asking Yoongi because of course he wouldn't want to fuck someone like Jimin -

"I'm just - I'm gonna go."

Jimin's halfway off the bed when Yoongi grabs his wrist and tugs him right back in. "Don't do that. Stop running away."

Jimin can't quite meet his eyes. "Can we just forget about it?" he asks in a voice so small he wonders if Yoongi even catches it.

He does. He catches Jimin, too, pulling him onto his lap and tilting his chin so he has no choice but to look at him. "We can forget about if that's what you really want," Yoongi says. "But you asked for a reason. So I think we should talk about it."

Jimin stares at him. Yoongi looks serious, the surprise and hesitancy from before gone. "Okay."

"Did you mean it?" Yoongi murmurs. "You want me to fuck you?"

The way it sounds coming from him - Jimin swallows, heat in his belly. For a second, he can't think beyond how close they are, Yoongi's face inches from his, their chests nearly pressed together, Yoongi's hands on his waist. He gathers himself, remembers they're having a serious discussion. "Yeah. I do."

"Really?" A bit of the surprise filters back into his expression, his eyes flickering over Jimin's face. He brushes his knuckles against Jimin's cheek. "This isn't like the kiss, is it? You just want it over with so it isn't so important anymore?"

Jimin shakes his head. "It isn't like that."

"You aren't asking because you feel like you have to? Especially now that we're - you know."

"I don't feel like I have to. I promise."

"But you were saving yourself for someone special." Yoongi's brows furrow, his thumb stroking Jimin's jaw almost unconsciously. "Why are you asking me? I know it's a big deal - "

"That's why I want it to be you," Jimin whispers, and Yoongi snaps his mouth shut. He looks floored, eyes a little wide, like he doesn't know what to do with himself. "Because it's a big deal."

"Oh," Yoongi breathes.

"And I trust you. And I know that, um, it would be good. With you." He's beet red as he blurts the next words out, a jumble that's barely understandable. "AndIreallywannahavesexwithyou."

Yoongi lets out a breathy laugh. "What?"

"I'm not saying it again."

"I really have no idea what you just said."

Jimin huffs, burying his face in Yoongi's shoulder. It's an awkward angle, given that he's sitting in his lap, but it's enough to hide his face. "And I really wanna have sex with you."

Yoongi's arms tighten around his waist. "Oh, yeah?" he says lowly, breath tickling Jimin's ear. "Why's that, Jiminie?"

He's teasing him. Jimin knows that. Still, he falls for the bait. "Because you're hot."

"Say that again? You're all muffled."

"Liar," Jimin shrieks, tugging away from him and falling back onto the bed. Yoongi's laughing, insufferably smug look on his face. "Fuck you, I take it back."

"Too late. You think I'm hot shit, huh."

"You're literally the worst."

The laughter fades from his voice. He's serious again. "You're sure? You really wanna do this?"

Jimin sits up, twisting his fingers in his lap. "I'm sure," he says, and his voice doesn't waver. "But only if you want to - I mean I dunno if you're interested or if you even wanna go that far, it's fine if you don't - "

"Jimin," Yoongi says firmly. "You're kidding, right?" He closes in on Jimin, his mouth inches from his, hands on either side of the bed. Jimin falls back onto his elbows on instinct, Yoongi hovering over him as he spreads his knees enough to fit between them. "I've been dreaming about fucking you," he murmurs, pressing a kiss on the base of Jimin's throat.

Jimin's brain goes haywire. His heart thuds painfully hard as he arches his neck for Yoongi. "You - really?"

"'Course. Have you seen yourself?" Yoongi pulls back, gaze raking over him for emphasis. Jimin feels it in the way he looks at him, dark and heavy like a touch.

"How long?"

Yoongi's mouth returns to Jimin's neck, dropping a light kiss before he says thoughtfully, "Remember that time at Seulgi's birthday party when you were trying to piss me off?"

"I try to piss you off a lot of times."

"Yeah, well, you were acting drunker than you were and plopped in my lap because you thought it'd piss me off."

"Did I succeed?"

"You know you did. And I also wanted to bend you over the couch and fuck you until you cried."

"Oh my god." Jimin's hands fly up to cover his flaming cheeks. "That was ages ago."

"Yeah, and you're hot." Yoongi shrugs a shoulder and kisses Jimin's jaw.

"I thought you hated me."

"You're the one who hated me."

"All we ever do is argue."

"Mm." His tongue flicks out, tracing Jimin's skin. "And every time you look at me with that angry little face I want to kiss you."

" Hyung ." Jimin swats at him, flustered and overwhelmed. He'd never imagined Yoongi saw him as anything but the annoying kid who tagged along with all his friends.

Yoongi catches his hand to kiss his wrist.

“Is that why you agreed to teach me how to kiss?”

“No,” Yoongi says, but it’s too quick to be believable. “I meant what I said. I didn’t want you asking anyone else - ”

“It is ,” Jimin gasps, flailing in his grasp. “You only agreed because you want to put your dick in me - ”

“Can you stop saying it like that - ”

Jimin can’t stop giggling, nudging Yoongi with his knee. “I can’t believe this. Isn’t it kind of unfair that you had an ulterior motive the whole time?”

“It wasn’t like that, okay - ”

“You were just using me for my hot ass all along.”

“You’re a fucking menace,” Yoongi growls, finally giving up on arguing and attacking Jimin’s sides with his dancing fingers instead. Jimin shrieks, arching away from his relentless hands, kicking his legs on reflex.

“Stop, stop, I surrender!”

Yoongi takes mercy on him, falling on the bed by his side, arm slung around his waist. Jimin flops bonelessly and tries to catch his breath, tears clinging to his lashes. “It really wasn’t like that,” Yoongi insists, and Jimin smiles.

He threads his fingers through Yoongi’s hair. “I’m just teasing you.”

They lie there in comfortable silence, the ticking of Yoongi’s clock and their breathing the only sounds in the room.

"So when are we doing this?" Jimin asks once his breath returns to normal. His nervousness has been replaced with anticipation.

"Eager," Yoongi teases. "Namjoon's going on a weekend trip with Hoseok at the end of the month. We could have the place to ourselves."

"Okay," Jimin says, almost giddy. "It's a date."


At the end of the month, Jimin shows up at Yoongi’s door with a bottle of wine.

He’d spent about as much time picking out the wine as he did on his outfit (which was a lot of time). He couldn’t figure out what the protocol was on bringing something when visiting someone for sex. They were having dinner, so was he supposed to bring food? Should he bring flowers? He felt weird showing up empty-handed. In the end, he’d splurged on a bottle of nice wine and headed to Yoongi’s place.

He knocks lightly, biting his lip. He’s nervous, but it’s a good kind of nervous. The kind of nervous where his stomach flutters and his heart beats a little too fast, but he feels giddy. Jimin can smell whatever Yoongi’s cooking out in the hall, and it smells good .

The door opens, and Jimin’s stomach flips.

“Hey - shit.” Yoongi flounders mid-greeting, his eyes raking down Jimin’s body with clear admiration.

“Hey,” Jimin says, enjoying the attention but also flustered by it. He’d felt kind of silly for trying so hard, considering Yoongi has seen him lounging on the couch in Namjoon’s sweats with his hair unwashed. He’s in a slinky top and leggings that look like absurdly tight pants but are much more comfortable (and easier to take off). He did his makeup, soft eyeshadow and a hint of color to his lips.

“Shit,” Yoongi breathes. “You look amazing.”

Jimin preens. “Can I come in, or are you gonna stare at me all night?”

“Yeah, come in,” Yoongi says, looking embarrassed. He snakes his arm around Jimin’s waist when he steps inside and kisses him. It’s a sweet kiss, one that lingers. Jimin’s hand comes up to rest on Yoongi’s chest before they break apart.

“You look good, too.”

Yoongi’s in a white button-up with the sleeves folded to his elbows and cuffed pants, hair falling endearingly across his forehead. Jimin runs a finger along the veins on Yoongi’s bare forearm, enjoying the goosebumps that rise on his skin in response.

“Food’s almost ready,” Yoongi murmurs, pulling away from him reluctantly to head toward the kitchen. Jimin slips his boots off and follows.

“I brought wine.” He takes it out of the bag and sets it on the counter.

“You got the good stuff,” Yoongi says, eyebrows raised. “Here, let me get that.”

He reaches for Jimin’s overnight bag and disappears into his room, returning empty-handed. Jimin stops at the stove, sniffing appreciatively. “You did a lot, hyung. It looks great.”

“Wait ‘til you try it,” Yoongi says smugly, brushing his hand along Jimin’s waist as he ducks by him to the rice cooker.

“Do you need any help?”

“Nope, it’s just about done. Sit down.”

Jimin perches on one of the barstools at the counter because Namjoon and Yoongi still live like they’re in college and don’t have a real table. He watches Yoongi lay the side dishes out and ladle the rice into a bowl. Jimin always did like a man who could cook. Watching Yoongi move so confidently around the kitchen in that pretty button-down is twisting Jimin’s stomach into knots.

“I know I’m hot, but you don’t have to stare so much.”

Jimin scoffs, heat rising up his neck. “You’re the one who wouldn’t even invite me in because you couldn’t stop staring.”

“I didn’t deny it.”

Jimin splutters, can’t come up with a response, and Yoongi just laughs. He uncorks the wine and pours it into two glasses he pulls from the cabinet. Then he finally sits on the barstool by Jimin’s side.

“Go on,” he says, and Jimin helps himself to the food.

“This is amazing,” Jimin gushes, and only then does Yoongi start eating.

“I know,” he says.

Jimin smacks his side. “You’re supposed to say ‘thank you.’”

Yoongi leans in to kiss Jimin’s cheek. It’s soft, but it lingers. “Thank you,” he says when he pulls away.

Jimin blushes, but he doesn’t hide it. He stares back at Yoongi, growing warmer the longer they look at each other. Yoongi’s the one who breaks moment first, turning back to his food.

“Eat,” he reminds Jimin, and Jimin does as he’s told. “Joonie left a book for you. He said he thought you’d like it.”

“Did he know I was coming?”

“We never talked about if we wanted anyone to know, so I didn’t tell him.” Yoongi’s sideways glance turns sly. “He asked me to give it to you because he thinks we’ve been hanging out a lot lately. So he figured I’d be seeing you.”

“Sometimes I think he’s oblivious, and then he goes and surprises me.”

“He’s really something,” Yoongi agrees.

They chat amiably while they eat, bickering here and there, and at some point Yoongi’s hand finds its way to Jimin’s thigh. He doesn’t do anything, just lets it rest there, fingers curling inward. Jimin thinks it might be an unconscious gesture, but he can’t take his mind off it. Feels the weight of it, the heat seeping through his pants. Thinks about how it’ll feel on his bare skin again.

When they’re done eating, Yoongi begins to wrap the food and put it in the fridge, refusing Jimin’s offers of help. Idly, Jimin perches himself on the counter, legs dangling, and sips on his wine. He watches Yoongi’s back as he moves around the kitchen, admires his bare forearms and strong hands, caught up in the thought of them.

“You look nervous,” Yoongi says, glancing at him over his shoulder.

“I’m - just a bit,” Jimin says honestly.

“It’s okay,” Yoongi soothes, putting their plates in the dishwasher. “You can be nervous.”

“It’s an excited kind of nervous.”

“I’m kind of nervous, too,” Yoongi admits, and Jimin glances at him in surprise. Yoongi isn’t the type to confess something like that.

“You are?”

“Pretty guy like you, of course I’m nervous.” He wipes his hands on a towel and crosses the tiny kitchen to stand in front of Jimin, his waist in line with Jimin’s knees. “And it’s your first time. I want it to be good.”

Jimin peers at him shyly. They’ve been talking about sex, things they like and don’t like, and that’s eased a lot of the jitters for him. “I know it’ll be good.”

“As long as I’m better than that pink dildo Taehyung always jokes about you having - ”

Hyung .” Jimin flails, covering his face. “Seriously?”

Yoongi tugs his arms away from his face, grin splitting his cheeks. “Did he really find it by the toothbrush holder?”

“Taehyung’s a dirty liar and you know it.” Jimin pouts, his arms still in Yoongi’s grip. “I don’t have a pink dildo.”

“Shame.” Jimin doesn’t miss the way Yoongi’s voice pitches lower, his gaze traveling over Jimin’s face like a touch. “I’d like to see that.”

“Not that hard to find a pink dildo to look at,” Jimin challenges, even though he knows exactly what he means.

“You know it’s you I wanna see,” Yoongi murmurs.

Jimin licks his lips, a burst of bravery overcoming the nerves. “I didn’t come here to be fucked by a dildo. I came here to be fucked by you.”

Yoongi stares at him, his eyes growing hooded. He lets go of Jimin’s arms, hands dropping to Jimin’s hips and settling there. “That’s the plan,” he agrees, then leans in and kisses him.

It’s a soft touch of lips until Jimin parts his own, tongue slipping out to meet Yoongi’s. He tastes him eagerly, stomach fluttering more with anticipation than nerves, soft noise of contentment leaving him when Yoongi pulls back to pepper light kisses on his mouth. Yoongi’s hands, warm and firm, slide down his thighs to push his knees apart so he can fit himself between them. The kiss deepens again, a little desperate, and Jimin finds himself arching into him, curling his fingers through Yoongi’s hair.

Yoongi breaks it off first, pressing his forehead against Jimin’s as he catches his breath. His hands drift back to Jimin’s waist, slipping beneath the hem of his top to brush against his skin. Jimin shivers at the light touch. “Bedroom?” Yoongi asks.

“Eager?” Jimin teases, sliding off the counter without warning so they’re chest-to-chest. He winds his arms around Yoongi’s neck. “We’ve got all night.”

“Don’t think I can wait all night.” He sounds throaty, affected, as his hands slip lower to cup Jimin’s ass. Jimin smiles, steals another kiss, liking the way Yoongi’s hands feel on his ass. “How’d you even fit into these?”

Jimin giggles, pressing back against his touch. It turns into a gasp when Yoongi begins to knead his ass, tugging him in closer. This time when they kiss, it’s undeniably desperate, wandering hands and pleased whimpers as they press hard against each other. Jimin’s back hits the counter, his fingers digging into Yoongi’s back as he brings him with him.

Yoongi’s fingers slip up Jimin’s shirt again, his mouth finding Jimin’s throat. He sucks a mark under his jaw, drawing a soft moan from Jimin, who arches his neck back. “You’ll sound so pretty when I fuck you,” Yoongi promises, and Jimin shudders.

He rucks Jimin’s shirt up, and Jimin raises his arms, letting Yoongi pull it over his head and toss it carelessly to the kitchen floor. “You gonna fuck me right here?” Jimin laughs, running his hands along Yoongi’s chest, fingers catching in the buttons of his shirt. He undoes the first, dropping a kiss on the hint of tattoo exposed by it.

“Your first time’s not gonna be on the kitchen counter,” Yoongi admonishes, and Jimin just laughs again. He doesn’t know where all this bravery has come from, but now that they’re together, arousal heating him, he isn’t nervous at all. He thinks he wouldn’t mind getting fucked on the kitchen counter.

He unbuttons Yoongi’s shirt, trailing kisses down his heated chest, all the way to the waistband of his pants. Yoongi’s hands curl in his hair, and he gazes down at him with dark, wanting eyes. Jimin lowers himself to his knees, barely noticing the sting of the tiled floor. He unbuttons Yoongi’s pants, too, and eyes the bulge of his underwear. A hint of nervousness returns.

“Jimin, baby, you don’t have to - ” Yoongi starts, but Jimin leans in and mouths his cock through the cloth, turning Yoongi’s words into a moan.

He mouths along his bulge, leaving a wet stain on the fabric, his tongue pressing against Yoongi’s tip. He peers up at him through his lashes, searching for a reaction, not sure if he’s doing it right, and finds Yoongi’s cheeks flushed pink and his lips parted in a gasp.

“Feels good,” Yoongi says, lids dipping shut when Jimin sucks. “Shit.” He only lets Jimin tease him for another moment before he pulls him back up, kissing him hard. “Bed,” he insists, threading their fingers together.

Jimin follows him to his room, a little dizzy in the best way, heart thudding in his chest.

He doesn’t know what he’s expecting, but when he walks into Yoongi’s room, his heart skips a beat. There’s a vase of fresh flowers on the dresser, and he’s lit a few sweet-smelling candles.

“Candles?” Jimin says, and starts to giggle. Yoongi glances back, ears turning pink.

“I, uh, thought you’d like that kind of shit.”

“You’re so cute,” Jimin coos, suddenly overwhelmed with affection. He closes the distance between them and kisses Yoongi again, running his hands down his bare chest. He pulls away, gaze caught on Yoongi’s swelling lips.

“Can I - ?” Yoongi starts, fingering the waistband of Jimin’s leggings. Jimin nods, glancing away shyly as Yoongi pulls them down. He crouches to bring them all the way to Jimin’s ankles, kisses his calves, and lifts his feet gently, one-by-one, until he can toss the leggings aside. He looks up, and Jimin sees the way his breath catches, his mouth opening in awe.

Jimin finds himself blushing, had agonized for ages over whether or not to wear them, not knowing if Yoongi would like that sort of thing or not. But the way Yoongi’s looking at him makes him feel nothing but overwhelmed, his body heating up painfully fast. He presses his hands to his face, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Did you wear these for me?” Yoongi murmurs, and Jimin can feel him delicately trace the lace of his panties.

“Do you like them?”

He feels a light touch against the lace again, dares to look down and finds Yoongi’s lips brushing the seam sitting on the crease of his thigh. “You’re so pretty,” he says. “So fucking pretty.”

Jimin’s breath catches.

“Leave these on when I fuck you?” Yoongi asks, and Jimin’s cheekiness returns.

“You like them that much, huh?”

Instead of a snarky response, Yoongi just agrees, “I do.” He stands, shucking off his own jeans and underwear. They’ve never messed around fully naked, so Jimin stares at him unabashedly, at his slender legs and hard cock, at the tattoos on his shoulder and chest, the one snaking around his arm.

“You’re pretty, too,” Jimin says, and Yoongi’s cheeks turn pink.

Yoongi moves toward the bed, beckoning for Jimin to follow. “How do you wanna do this?”

Jimin bites his lip, pausing at the edge of the bed. “I kind of - um, I wanna ride you.”

Yoongi licks his lips. He settles comfortably against the headboard, reaching down to lazily stroke himself to full hardness. Jimin watches, breath quickening. “Sounds good to me.”

Jimin crawls onto the bed, overly aware of how naked he is - save for the panties, which hardly count at all. They’re barely holding his cock in place. Yoongi reaches for the condom and lube sitting on his side table.

“Wait,” Jimin blurts, and Yoongi freezes. “Do you - I was wondering - ”

“Tell me,” Yoongi urges when Jimin can’t find the words to continue.

“Do we have to use a condom?” he asks quietly.

Yoongi blinks.

“I mean, I’m obviously clean. Are you?”

Yoongi nods. “Yeah. But don’t trust anyone else who says that, you hear?”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “I know. I only trust you.”

Yoongi stares at him for a long moment, the lube and condom still dangling from his fingers. Then he blinks, snapping himself out of it, and puts the condom back on the table. “All right,” he breathes. “Yeah, we can do that.”

Jimin crawls toward him, settling himself on Yoongi’s thighs, and takes the bottle of lube from his hand. He rubs it between his palms to warm it up before he wraps his hands around Yoongi’s cock. Yoongi hisses, lids fluttering as Jimin strokes him, thoroughly coating his cock. It isn’t the first time he’s touched Yoongi’s cock, but it’s the first time he’s thinking so intensely about having it inside him, so it feels different. Bigger.

Jimin swallows harshly, the nerves flooding back. This is it. The moment he’s been dreaming of for so long. What he has with Yoongi isn’t anything like he imagined, but he finds he doesn’t mind. He trusts Yoongi. He wants him.

“Hey,” Yoongi says, “you sure you’re ready?”

“It’s a little too late to ask that,” Jimin jokes, wiping his lube-covered hands on the sheets.

Yoongi catches Jimin’s chin between his fingers, forcing him to look up, his gaze suddenly serious. “It’s not too late. You could have my cock in you and it still wouldn’t be too late.”

He waits for a response, so Jimin nods.

“I mean it,” Yoongi insists. “You can back out whenever you want. Whenever.”

Jimin nods again, firmer this time. “Okay. But I’m sure.”

Yoongi kisses him. It’s awfully sweet considering he has his cock out, but Jimin smiles into it, set at ease. He rises to his knees, shuffling closer so he’s hovering over Yoongi’s cock. He’s had plenty of toys up his ass, though Yoongi’s a little bigger than most of them, so he knows how to take cock. He isn’t worried about that.

Yoongi reaches behind him to tug his panties to the side, exposing his hole, running the pad of his finger over Jimin’s rim briefly but long enough to make him gasp. Jimin steadies Yoongi’s cock with his hand and begins to lower himself down until he feels the tip touch his hole.

“Go slow,” Yoongi murmurs.

Jimin sinks, feels Yoongi’s cock breach his hole, and sinks a little more. His lips part in a gasp, and Yoongi catches them in a wet kiss, tracing the roof of Jimin’s mouth with his tongue. Jimin rises up to the tip then sinks again, lower this time, shuddering as Yoongi’s cock fills him. It feels good, has him wanting to go faster, but Yoongi’s hands have found his hips to hold him steady.

“That’s it,” he says. “You’re doing so well.”

Jimin lifts up, then lowers himself all the way, a whimper leaving him as he bottoms out, ass meeting Yoongi’s hips, his hands clutching Yoongi’s arms. “Fuck,” he mumbles, fuller than he’s ever been, mouth hanging open, struggling to catch his breath.

Yoongi leaves wet kisses down his neck, gripping his waist tightly. “Fuck,” he agrees. “You feel good, Jiminie.”

Jimin digs his fingers into Yoongi’s shoulders and grinds his hips against him, gasping as Yoongi’s cock moves inside him, his lashes fluttering. Yoongi’s grip tightens, his teeth grazing Jimin’s throat. He tries again, grinds until he finds his prostate - a high-pitched sound grows in the back of his throat, his muscles seizing up with pleasure because fuck , that feels good. That feels so fucking good, and he can’t keep himself still anymore.

Jimin winds his arms around Yoongi’s neck, pulling him into a kiss, and starts to roll his hips. He picks up speed quickly enough, Yoongi’s cock grinding against all the right spots as he moves, the pleasure building as he speeds up until he can barely hold a kiss anymore. Yoongi doesn’t mind, sucks on his tongue and kisses his jaw and tugs his lips between his teeth, even as Jimin pants and gasps.

“H-hyung,” he whines, lifting up and dropping back down. Yoongi groans into his skin, his hands cupping Jimin’s ass, spreading his cheeks wider. Jimin wonders what his hole looks like taking Yoongi’s cock as he starts to bounce up and down, little whimpers and whines falling from his lips. He stops, abruptly, and pulls off Yoongi’s cock.

“You okay?” Yoongi says, breathless.

“Want you - want you to see me.” Jimin turns around, back to Yoongi, and kneels around his thighs. He tugs his panties to the side so he can sink back onto Yoongi’s cock, arching his back, pressing his hands against Yoongi’s thighs for purchase.

“Fuck,” Yoongi breathes as Jimin starts to ride him in earnest, ass smacking against his thighs as he bounces, the obscene slap ringing throughout the room. “Fuck, Jimin, look at you. You’re taking me so well.”

“I’m doing g-good?”

“You’re doing so good, baby, your ass was made for this. Made for my cock.”

Jimin whimpers, grinding back against him, head falling backwards. He feels Yoongi’s hands on his ass again, spreading his cheeks, imagines the way Yoongi’s hard cock looks stretching Jimin’s puffy rim, imagines the way it looks sliding in and out. He fucks back, gasping, the pleasure building as Yoongi’s hands run up and down his skin, as his fingers trace the place where his cock and Jimin’s hole meet.

“That’s it,” Yoongi croons. “Fuck yourself like you mean it.”

Jimin rides him harder, eyes rolling back into his head, muscles tightening. Yoongi’s hand comes down to smack his ass, and Jimin whines. It’s too much but it’s not enough, his legs tiring as he tries to keep up the pace that’ll bring him the most pleasure. He straightens, and Yoongi straightens with him, his back meeting Yoongi’s chest. He tosses his head back onto Yoongi’s shoulder, gripping Yoongi’s wrists tightly when they wind around Jimin’s waist.

“Hyung,” he moans, Yoongi’s lips trailing down his neck, teeth digging into his shoulder.

“What do you want, baby?”

“More,” he gasps. “W-want more.”

“Turn around,” Yoongi demands, and Jimin’s breath catches. He does as he’s told, turning in Yoongi’s lap until they’re chest-to-chest, and Yoongi pulls him back onto his cock. This time he thrusts, fucking into Jimin so suddenly that Jimin cries out, falling into him. Jimin rolls his hips to meet Yoongi’s thrusts, but they’re hard and fast and too much for Jimin to keep up with.

“Y-Yoongi - ” he whimpers. “More - ah - more, want more - ”

His muscles are tight, pleasure nearly peaking, and he wants to come, wants Yoongi to come. He flops bonelessly back onto the mattress as Yoongi fucks him harder, faster, the grip on his hips unforgiving.

“Come on, baby,” Yoongi urges. “Wanna make you come. Wanna feel you tight around me, sucking me in.”

Jimin’s moaning, he realizes, loud and staccato, breaking off with every thrust, legs around Yoongi’s waist as he fucks him into the mattress. The rhythm of his thrusts and Yoongi’s hand around his cock have the pleasure peaking at last, Jimin’s back snapping off the bed as he shudders through his orgasm, sobbing Yoongi’s name. Yoongi fucks him through it, his thrusts turning sloppy as Jimin clenches around him.

“Fuck, Jimin-ah - ” Yoongi groans, and Jimin feels his cock twitch, warm wetness filling his hole as Yoongi comes. Yoongi’s hips finally stutter to a stop, his chest heaving as he catches his breath.

“Hyung,” Jimin breathes, reaching for him.

Yoongi comes willingly, kissing him and brushing strands of hair away from his sweaty forehead. “You okay?”

Jimin hums, eyes heavy, his body loose and content. “That was so good.”

Yoongi huffs a quiet laugh. “Just good?”

“Hyung.” Jimin swats at him. “Amazing. It was amazing.”

Yoongi kisses his neck then sits up again, pulling out of him slowly. Jimin winces, sensitive, a little embarrassed at the squelch of cum and lube now that he’s no longer in the moment. He wonders if the embarrassment ever goes away. Yoongi slips out of the room, returning with a damp cloth that he uses to clean Jimin up. He tosses it carelessly aside and lies down, wrapping around Jimin like a koala.

“Don’t you wanna take a bath or something?” Jimin asks.

“Mm, too tired,” Yoongi mumbles, nuzzling into his shoulder. He yanks the blanket over their bare bodies.

“Old man,” Jimin says fondly, relaxing into Yoongi’s hold. His eyes drift shut.

“You had a good time, right?” Yoongi’s voice comes quiet, a little unsure, and Jimin smiles.

“You were perfect,” he promises, threading their fingers together.

“Hey, gotta ask you something.” Yoongi sounds half-asleep, nearly slurring his words.


“Got this thing for the office next week, dinner thing. Come with me?”

Jimin’s smile widens. He presses his face against the sheets. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“I mean, if you have to put a label on it - ” Yoongi grumbles.

“It’s a date,” Jimin decides, grinning so hard it almost hurts.


“Henry’s Law,” Jimin says.

“The amount of dissolved gas is proportional to its partial pressure in the gas phase,” Taehyung intones as if reading straight from the textbook.

“Good job,” Jimin cheers, running a hand through Taehyung’s hair. He has his head pillowed on Jimin’s lap, where they’ve been for the past two hours. Across them, Jungkook’s asleep in the armchair, textbook over his face. Jimin reminds himself to get up and check if he’s still breathing in a moment.

“Reward,” Taehyung demands. Jimin reaches for a chip and deposits it into Taehyung’s mouth, then picks up the next flashcard. “No, break,” he groans, burying his face in Jimin’s stomach.

“If you don’t pass this final, you can’t graduate,” Jimin warns.

“I know . Five minutes.”

“Fine. I’m setting a timer.”

They’re silent enough for the first minute that Jimin catches a light snore from Jungkook (so he’s breathing, after all). He’s sure Taehyung has fallen asleep until he asks, “So are you and Yoongi hyung friends with benefits, or?”

Jimin snorts. By now, they see each other so often that all their friends have caught on. Yongguk had given Jimin a knowing glance when he’d walked into the bar one Friday night with his hand in Yoongi’s. Told you something sweet would fix it . “Why the sudden question?”

“Just wondering if you guys had made it official or something.”

They haven’t put a label on it yet, though Jimin has figured out Yoongi’s aversion to labels is mostly just a joke. Surprisingly, Jimin doesn’t mind the hint of uncertainty - mostly because he doesn’t feel uncertain at all. He likes what they have. They go out on things that are probably dates, coffee and amusement parks and museums. Stay up all night just to talk and stay in for evenings with no words at all, both of them on opposite sides of the living room busy with their own work. And yeah, they have sex. (A lot of sex.)

He might want to know where they stand one day, but right now Jimin feels no pressure at all. He’s content.

“Don’t you have to be friends to be friends with benefits?” Jimin counters just to be contrary.

“Don’t give me that,” Taehyung huffs. “You two are practically dating already. You like him, Jiminie.”

“Yeah,” Jimin agrees shyly. “I like him.”

“And he likes you.”

“Yeah,” Jimin says, because he’s pretty sure Yoongi does.

“So maybe you should talk about that.”

“I will,” he says, and he means it. Jimin’s done running away. “But there’s no hurry. It’s not like I’m going anywhere after I graduate. We have time.”

Taehyung gazes up at him softly. “Well, I’m glad you’re happy. And not worrying about it. You always worry too much.”

Jimin swoops in to kiss his forehead. “Thanks, Tae.” The timer dings. Jungkook flails awake, nearly toppling off the chair. “Time’s up.”

Taehyung groans.


Graduating would be a far more frightening prospect if Jimin’s future didn’t feel so secure.

He’s already got a job lined up at the university hospital, and he renewed his lease on the apartment he shares with Jungkook and Taehyung. Jungkook still has two more years of school, but Taehyung’s hoping to land a position as a research assistant in one of the school labs. The prospect of leaving school life to enter the real world would be daunting if Jimin didn’t have so many older friends who’d already gone through the exact same thing. He knows it isn’t easy, but he’s seen the way their lives settle into place over time.

So Jimin’s a little nervous, sure, but mostly he’s excited to move on.

His family can’t make it. His brother’s graduating high school on the same day, and he’d rather they attend that instead. Jimin’s already had his time. Besides, since Taehyung, Jimin, and Junghwa are all graduating, the rest of their friend crew has made plans to be there.

“We did it!” Jimin shrieks when they’re out, clinging to Taehyung so hard he lifts off the ground.

“I never have to take chemistry again!” Taehyung shouts, nearly bursting Jimin’s eardrum.

They spent the next fifteen minutes on various phone calls trying to locate their friends in the crowd. Eventually, they find them in the courtyard and spend another fifteen minutes exchanging hugs and incoherent shouts.

“You did it,” Yoongi congratulates, camera around his neck and a big bag in one hand. Yoongi has been helping him study every now and then, and he’s been privy to at least two of Jimin’s many meltdowns.

“Thank you!” Jimin slings his arms around Yoongi’s neck.

Yoongi kisses his cheek before pulling back. “Hey, Jungkook-ah, take a picture of us,” he calls.

Jungkook has his own camera around his neck and beckons for them to move closer together. Yoongi sets his bag down next to him and wraps an arm around Jimin’s waist.

“What’s in that?” Jimin asks curiously, craning to peek inside the bag. Yoongi nudges it away with his foot.

“Cake for the party later.”

“Ready?” Jungkook calls. “On three!”

Jimin plasters a smile on his face, leaning into Yoongi.

“One - ”

“Yah, Park Jimin.”

Jimin glances over and finds Yoongi staring back, uncaring of the camera. “What?” he says, annoyed that he’s interrupting the shot.

“Two - guys, look at the camera maybe - ”

“Be my boyfriend.”


The camera shutter goes off just in time to catch Jimin’s look of outrage, wide eyes and open mouth.

“You ruined it,” Jungkook complains.

“What the hell!” Jimin shrieks, hitting Yoongi’s shoulder. “You can’t just ask me something like that in the middle of a picture - I can’t believe you - ”

Yoongi huffs with exasperation that’s clearly staged. “Thought you’d say something like that.” He turns, reaches into the bag, and pulls out the biggest bouquet of flowers Jimin has ever seen. It’s an explosion of color, so big Yoongi can barely keep it together. Around him, he can hear their friends gasping. “Jiminie,” Yoongi says, holding it out. “I like you a lot. Will you be my boyfriend?”

Jimin takes the bouquet carefully, reverently, plastic crinkling in his fingers. He stares at Yoongi with wide eyes, and Yoongi looks like he’s trying hard not to smile.

“Say something already!” he hears Yongguk shout.

Jimin blinks. “Yes,” he breathes, then flings his arms around Yoongi’s neck and kisses him to the sound of whooping and camera shutters.