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paint me like one of your french girls

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jungkook and his class have arrived at the art museum on time and all together. there was one close incident where duho had dared hyunjun to climb out of the window of the bus they’d taken to get there, and jungkook was afraid he’d do it. the window was down to let in a breeze from the warm summer air, and the two boys were far enough away for him to be unable to stop them. but jieun had scolded them both, hands on her hips and command in her eyes like the ten-year-old drill sergeant she was, and the two boys had sat back down, glaring at everyone around them.

 

so they’d arrived without any injuries or crying, thank any and all deities that may or may not exist. even so, jungkook is nervous. not scared-nervous, or excited-nervous. not even anticipatory-nervous, not really. no, jungkook is more of a cautiously-dreading-this-nervous. field trips always make him feel that way. so many things could go wrong.

 

when he leads the class into the museum, he’s immediately on edge. it’s a large, fancy place with marble walls and a kind of grand emptiness that jungkook usually associates with the obscenely rich and wealthy. he feels like peasant who accidentally wandered into a grand throne room. the kids ooh and ahh around him.

 

“i dare you to lick the wall!”

 

as jungkook has hyunjun by the back of shirt collar, holding him back from literally licking the likely germ-covered, expensive marble wall (what is wrong with children?), he hears the distinct noise of someone clearing their throat.

 

“ah, welcome to the museum. you must be mr. jeon, yes?”

 

jungkook hastily turns around, ears burning. hyunjun, finally deterred by the presence of an unfamiliar adult, runs back to duho, who slaps him in the back of the head. jungkook had stopped trying to understand why they do what they do a while ago.

 

“yes, i am so sorry about that.” he gives the speaker a quick bow. “and please, just call me jungkook.”

 

“alright, jungkook. i’m min yoongi, i’ll be your guide for the day.” as jungkook straightens, he finally gets a good look at the speaker, and— wow.

 

min yoongi is undeniably attractive man who looks to be in his mid-twenties and a part of the museum’s collection, with his expensive-looking suit jacket that shimmers in the light and a flow white shirt that probably costs more than what jungkook makes in a year. he’s on the shorter side, but lean and slender. his eyes have a kind of sharpness to them, like they can see straight into jungkook’s mind and read his poor, gay thoughts.

 

“may i see your id?” min yoongi says. it takes a second for jungkook to wrench his gaze from the man’s face and process his words and outstretched hand.

 

“ah, yes.” jungkook hands over his id and shuffles his feet a bit, as if he’s the child, not the teacher. behind him, his class has miraculously stayed in order with only a little whispering. he’s pretty sure they’re as in awe of both the building and min yoongi as jungkook is.

 

“everything appears to be in order,” min yoongi says after a moment, and returns jungkook’s id. their hands brush briefly, and jungkook vaguely notices that min yoongi has slight calluses and surprisingly soft skin.

 

“now, would you like a quick chance for your class to use the bathroom before we begin?”

 

“that would be great, thank you.” jungkook hastily turns to the class and gives the offer of a bathroom break. there’s some movement and a smattering of chaos, then they’re all set five minutes later.

 

“alright,” min yoongi says. “let’s begin.” and they do.

 

min yoongi describes the exhibits’s significance and history, a cool enthusiasm dancing off his tongue like this is his life’s work. his voice has a kind of gravelly quality to it and his words slightly slur into each other in a way that grasps his listeners’ attention and holds it to his lips, which look very soft. and jungkook needs to stop focusing on min yoongi’s distinctive voice and pink lips and instead focus on his class of young children, for whom he is responsible.

 

said young children have started to get restless after the fifth exhibit and twentieth minute. why are their attention spans so short? jungkook gives the most antsy kids a sharp look, which subdues them briefly.

 

as he finishes his silent reprimands, min yoongi wraps up his most recent explanation and leads them to a large statue of a man with black feathered wings.

 

“now this piece has a lot of historical and cultural significance,” min yoongi begins. jungkook watches around half the class deflate, writing the stop off as a boring piece of concrete. in jungkook’s humble opinion, the boring piece of concrete is being described by the most interesting thing in the place, and thus still worthy of attention.

 

“now, i realize that doesn’t mean much to you all,” min yoongi continues. there’s a sharp smile on his face now, and he winks at jungkook like they’re in on a secret together. jungkook doesn’t know the secret, so he just blushes.

 

“so i’m going to tell you a story about this piece that i think might interest you.” two children yawn in sync. jungkook’s not sure if it was planned or not.

 

“last year, around october, a man came in here and decided that he wanted to kiss this particular statue.” jungkook can hear the wind whistle as the kids’ heads whip around almost as one. if they were any older, that motion would have been accompanied by a series of cracks. instead, there’s only murmuring. then duho lifts his voice as the spokesman of the group.

 

“did you say kiss?” jieun elbows him for not raising his hand, so jungkook doesn’t bother calling him on it. plus, he’s curious too.

 

min yoongi’s grin grows wider.

 

“that i did. he walked up to the pedestal, put his hand to its cheek, then kissed it straight on the lips.”

 

the class erupts into questions and exclamations that min yoongi answers with ease. jungkook’s impressed. he stands in the back of the group and watches the kids to make sure none of them wander off. but they all seem to be entirely engaged with min yoongi and the kissed statue, even the troublemakers.

 

min yoongi continues the tour, taking them all over the museum and telling wild stories about each piece that keep the kids going. he interacts with them well too, never snapping or treating them like they’re stupid, even if some of their questions are. every once in a while, he’ll look up at jungkook and give him a smile, though less cocky than the one before. these new smiles are softer, and a little hesitant. jungkook finds that he likes them.

 

after about two hours, the tour is over and jungkook doesn’t really want to leave. sure, he’s got to get the kids back to the school, then to their parents. and they’re getting restless now too, tired from all the new experiences and running around they’ve been doing. jungkook is tired as well. it’s hard to keep them all in line and listening, even with min yoongi’s magic stories.

 

but even so, jungkook doesn’t want to leave the museum. because leaving the museum means leaving the kind, patient (hot!) min yoongi, and likely never seeing him again. and maybe jungkook’s just been single for too long or maybe he’s been watching too many dramas, but he’s pretty sure min yoongi doesn’t want him to leave either.

 

“they look pretty exhausted, huh?” speak of the devil.

 

“yeah,” jungkook says, watching as hyunjun yawns big and loud while a group of three girls rub their eyes almost in sync.

 

“you know, i enjoyed having them. they all seemed pretty eager to learn about the art.”

 

jungkook laughs, light and a little breathy. “i think they were only eager because you presented it in such an exciting way.”

 

min yoongi grins, showing off his teeth and gums and jungkook’s heart noticeably picks up. he’s so damn cute.

 

“i’m very good at what i do.”

 

“that you are.” and now jungkook’s grinning too. two grinning idiots. jungkook watches the light glint off yoongi’s earrings. he himself seems like a work of art in that moment, with his fancy clothes and soft-looking hair and enough shine from his jacket to be eye-catching. jungkook wonders what kissing him would feel like—

 

“mr. jeon,” jieun says from behind him. it’s only practice that keeps him from jumping three feet in the air. he turns to face her.

 

“yes jieun?”

 

jieun bites her lip and shuffles her feet a bit. she’s clearly grown tired since she’s not standing at military-precise attention. “i think eunhye fell asleep.”

 

sure enough, the little girl is slumped onto the shoulder of the girl next to her, eyes closed and snoring lightly.

 

“thanks for telling me jieun,” jungkook says, then raises his voice. “class!”

 

“yes, mr. jeon?” they reply generally as one, a bit ragged around the edges. “we’re leaving in five minutes. go to the bathroom now and do whatever you need to do and come back here, okay?”

 

there’s a chorus of “yes mr. jeon”s, and then they scatter. jieun runs back to eunhye and gently shakes her awake.

 

jungkook turns back to min yoongi sketches a quick bow with a smile. “thank you so much for guiding us today. the kids had a great time, and so did I.”

 

min yoongi seems a little flushed. is he okay? jungkook isn’t sure if he should ask or not.

 

“it was no problem,” min yoongi says after a beat. “you’re welcome back any time.”

 

jungkook thanks him again, then turns to slowly herd the kids into some semblance of order. even so, he can’t help glancing over his shoulder back at min yoongi ever so often. min yoongi remains standing there with his eyes looking far away, as if he’s deep in thought.

 

jungkook does a quick head count. they’re all there, thank goodness. once, at a zoo, he’d nearly left a kid who had hidden in the bathroom because she didn’t want to leave the animals. it was a good thing none of the art was cute and huggable. well, actually…

 

as jungkook helps the last of the class out the door, he turns to get a last look at, in his humble opinion, the cutest and most huggable piece of art in the museum (god, he’s such a sap), only to be met with startled, dark eyes very, very close to his own.

 

“hi,” jungkook squeaks instead of screaming, which was his second response.

 

“uh, hey,” min yoongi says in a deep rasp, sounding ten times cooler than jungkook, who’s voice seems to be trying to return to puberty.

 

“this is for you.” min yoongi shoves a brochure into jungkook’s hands before abruptly turning on his heel and hurrying to what jungkook assumes is his office.

 

“thanks?” jungkook says, too late to be heard.

 

he wants to take a look at whatever min yoongi has just given him, but first he’s responsible for twenty or so small children who, even when tired, love to get into trouble. so he puts his fast-beating heart to the side and focuses on the kids. he’s got to get them home, safe and sound. then he can worry about min yoongi’s gift.

 

that night, he falls onto his couch, limbs flying akimbo, and almost crushes jimin beneath him.

 

“whoa,” jimin says, pushing jungkook’s legs off his lap. “what happened to you?”

 

“mphsf mpsh pmmph,” jungkook says into the pillows.

 

“yeah, try again,” jimin says, and pokes him in the side. hard. he rolls over.

 

“arms hurt,” he groans, and rolls back. jimin kicks him in the ribs.

 

“why?”

 

jungkook rolls to face him and just so he can give jimin his best glare.

 

“two kids fell asleep on the bus and wouldn’t wake up so i had to carry both all the way back to the school.”

 

jimin snorts, the sadist. jungkook’s pain is sooooo funny to him.

 

“did anything else happen?” jimin wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, as if he knows exactly what happened and wants jungkook to spill all the juicy details. jungkook throws a pillow at his face in response. jimin catches it and whacks jungkook in the stomach. jungkook lunges forward and their conversation devolves into an all out pillow war that lasts until they’re both left laughing and gasping for breath on the floor, each buried under a small mound of cushions.

 

jungkook’s sure jimin’s forgotten about his question until—

 

“sooooo what else happened?”

 

“nothing.”

 

jimin crawls over to jungkook, pillows cascading off his back.

 

“what are you hiding from me, jeon jungkook?” he whispers, straight into jungkook’s ear.

 

“yeah jungkook,” a different, deeper voice, whispers in jungkook’s other ear. “what are you hiding from us?”

 

“what the actual fuck,” jungkook says bolting upright. kim taehyung is on his stomach right next to him. “when did you get here?”

 

taehyung looks up at him with a large grin. “oh, you know, two hours ago.”

 

“then where were you?”

 

“i was reading manga in the other room because jimin got annoyed with me.”

 

“you’re a noisy-ass reader tae-tae. nobody wants to hear you gasp like the world’s been recreated before your eyes every three seconds.”

 

taehyung frowns. “i take offense to that. but we’ll discuss later. now, the focus is on our dear jungkookie.”

 

jungkook freezes, halfway to his doorway.

 

“you didn’t think you could escape, did you?” jimin coos, small hand grabbing his wrist with surprising strength.

 

“tell us what happened,” taehyung says, grabbing his other arm. the two of them haul jungkook back to the couch. jungkook drops his weight like a human rag doll, so they have to support him all the way there. his shoulders hurt, but it’s worth the look of indignation of jimin’s face.

 

“you’re bullying me,” jungkook says. “this is child abuse.”

 

jimin tosses one of the downed pillows at his head.

 

“shut up and talk.”

 

“you know—”

 

“don’t be a smartass, smartass.”

 

jungkook sulks for a second, just to show them he can. but taehyung coos and ruffles his hair, so he finally sighs and spills his secrets. they would find out some way or another anyway. those two are scary like that.

 

“so the guide—”

 

“ooh, was he hot?” jungkook buries his face in his hands while jimin shoves taehyung for interrupting.

 

“let the child speak.”

 

“right, right. keep going child.”

 

“i hate both of you.”

 

“we know.” jimin smiles at him, the picture of a devilish angel. which reminds jungkook of that statue, and yoongi, and how good he’d been with the kids and how sweetly he’d smiled and—

 

“oh my god he’s blushing. jimin, quick, take a photo.”

 

“already done, tae-tae. who do you think i am?”

 

“the best.”

 

“obviously.”

 

“I hate both of you.”

 

“you already said that. now tell us, how hot was he?”

 

jungkook needs new friends.

 

“he was very hot, okay? he was dressed super fancily, but he still seemed down-to-earth. his hair looked so fluffy and his smile. god, his smile was adorable. and his voice was all deep, but not as deep as tae-hyung’s and he was so kind to the kids. he kept answering their questions, even the dumb ones, and he told them stories to keep them occupied and god. why does a man like that exist? how was i supposed to function properly?”

 

“oh poor baby.” taehyung pets his hair and jimin pats him on the back. jungkook kind of hates how it makes him feel better.

 

“did you get his number?” jimin asks.

 

“no,” jungkook says dejectedly. “wait— i mean, hold on a second.”

 

he leaps to his feet and runs to his coat, where he’d tucked the museum brochure. it’s a bit crumpled when he pulls it out of his pocket, but still in decent condition. he carefully peels it open and there, on the second page is a small note followed by a string of numbers.

 

hey, thanks for coming. i hope this isn’t too forward, but i’d like to see you again maybe

 

taehyung whoops from behind him, having read the note over his shoulder. jimin wraps his arm around jungkook’s neck and attempts to give him a noogie, but can’t pull jungkook down because of the height difference.

 

“our jungkookie’s got game!” jimin crows.

 

taehyung hands jungkook his phone. “message him.”

 

hesitantly, jungkook punches the numbers into his phone. he taps the chat box. and freezes.

 

“oh my god, what do i say?”

 

“how about ‘you’re really hot, can i suck your dick?’”

 

“ew, jimin, gross. i don’t want to freak him out.”

 

“but you do want to suck his dick.”

 

“…maybe.”

 

taehyung grabs jungkook’s phone out of his hand, ignoring his indignant yelp.

 

“you’re too indecisive.” before jungkook can stop him, taehyung types a quick message and hits send.

 

jungkook

only maybe?

 

“oh my god, he’s blushing.”

 

“so cute.”

 

“why did you do this, tae. why do you want to ruin me.”

 

his phone buzzes. jungkook’s stomach feels like a small army is tap-dancing around it in swirling paths.

 

hot museum guy min yoongi

who is this?

 

“shit,” jungkook says.

 

hot museum guy min yoongi

jeon jungkook?

 

there’s the distinctive sound of high-fiving behind jungkook’s back.

 

jungkook

yes

i’m sorry about the first message

my friend stole my phone

 

hot museum guy min yoongi

oh

so

is that a no?

 

jungkook

no!

i mean, yes?

i mean

i do want to see you again

 

hot museum guy min yoongi

oh good

you’re really beautiful, by the way

 

jungkook

thank you?

 

hot museum guy min yoongi

now it’s my turn to be embarrassed

my friend stole my phone this time

but

i do think you’re beautiful

 

jungkook

oh my god

 

hot museum guy min yoongi

can i treat you to coffee?

or something else, if that’s not your taste

 

jungkook

yes

please

coffee sounds great

i think you were the most beautiful thing in the museum today

i can’t believe i just said that

 

 

hot museum guy min yoongi

no, the most beautiful thing was certainly you

but thank you

 

jungkook can’t stop blushing. his heart is fluttering like it’s been possessed by a pair of black wings, waiting to be kissed.