Work Header

i'm fully operational (and at your disposal)

Chapter Text






The hectic state of the party was starting to die down when Yoongi meets him.


Yoongi can agree with that. After all, the quiet wall Yoongi was sitting against is no longer such due to an orange-haired drunken boy slumping down next to him, “Dude, would you believe every fucking bathroom in this shithole is clogged or, you know, occupied,” the boy pushes his hair back like it’s going out of style and sips his beer with an apparent grimace, “not that I’m piss-shy or whatever, but man….you know?”

No, not really, because Yoongi can see very visible traces of bruising skin around drunken boy’s neck and imagines he can’t be that off-put by others getting hot and heavy.

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

Hearing that sort of startled Yoongi because, honestly, he didn’t think the drunken boy was actually attempting to interact with him.

“Looks like you’re saying enough for both of us,” Yoongi mutters into his red solo cup, filled with whatever concoction Namjoon whipped up; a mix of something like vodka and maybe some more vodka. He doesn’t want to admit that he would like a chase, because he sure as hell could use one.

The boy frowns at that reply and shoves his shoulder into Yoongi a little bit, “You tryin' to say I talk too much?”

Again, Yoongi stays silent and shifts his gaze. He really wonders how his life choices got him into this particularly awkward situation. A snigger than replaces the frown on the guy’s face and another nudge is sent to Yoongi’s bicep, “Nah, don’t worry, I get that all that time! I’m good at it, yah know? I mean, at talking and stuff. Even if it’s with a brick wall like yourself.”

Yoongi wants to argue because, hey, this guy has known him for a total of three minutes and therefore cannot assume shit. But, just when Yoongi is about to open his mouth, the boy stands up with a great grin and shouts, “Jungkookie! My Bro!” while flying across the room. The ‘Jungkookie’ in question is a fresh-face and well-built boy shortly taken by surprise when he receives a floppy armful of an orange-haired drunkard. Boisterous laughter then bounces off the walls in the room and Yoongi thinks it’s time for take his own sorry ass home.











It’s another weekend house party and Yoongi wants the last minute of his life back. All he wanted was to reluctantly break the seal, not get an eyeful of tangled half-naked bodies. He recalls a noticeable orange head of hair among the mess, which causes Yoongi to snort. Hypocritical little shit, wasn’t he?

Later that night, Yoongi finds the orange boy sitting alone on an island in the kitchen. He’s staring into his red solo cup like it held the answers to all his problems (which Yoongi imagines to be many).

“Thought you were against bathroom hook-ups?”

There’s a knit in the guy’s brow before it’s flattened and his lips are stretched into a smirk, “Why, Pattie-Cake, you proposing something?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes at the idea. Although the orange-haired boy checks off a lot of Yoongi’s good boxes, hook-ups in stranger’s bathrooms was just plain old dirty and uncomfortable. Not that Yoongi did it too often (or at all).

“Don’t roll them pretty eyes at me, it’s not like you can handle all this anyways,” the guy shrugs his shoulders while his smirk widens even more. It’s cocky and coy at the same time, and god, Yoongi tries to tell the flare of desire in him to turn the fuck down because no no fuck no.

“Looked like that guy before handled you just fine,” because Yoongi can dish it if he wants to.

But then there’s an awkward silence where the guy is just staring down at Yoongi through his lashes. His wrist swirls his drinks a few times before the boy tosses the cup casually over his shoulder. There’s a splash and next thing Yoongi knows, he’s pressed against the opposite counter.

“Only cause I let him,” is whispered into Yoongi’s ear before a pair of lips devour his. By the time Yoongi manages reciprocate (wait what), there’s a rush of cool air separating them. Almond eyes search his before there’s a smile that beams and a laugh that erupts.

Just like that, the boy is gone and the heat left behind is definitely not from the alcohol.  











His name is Park Jimin.

They say he is just about everyone’s friend with benefits.  But, there's more to it than that. These so-called benefits include more than just those of a carnal variety. Jimin is known for giving a listening ear, a crying shoulder, and a paid meal to any who ask. They say that people love Jimin, and that Jimin takes on anyone who comes his way.

At least… that’s what they say. 











It’s the middle of the fucking day.

The guy who crashes into Yoongi outside the university center bathroom is rubbing at some tear tracks while adjusting his pants. Yeah, it makes both of them uncomfortable for a brief moment, but Yoongi is sure that he probably won’t ever meet the guy again anyways. So, they brush shoulders and Yoongi continues on the quest to relieve his bladder.

It’s in the middle of the fucking day, and there is Jimin. Yoongi pauses while taking it all in; the pants that are being done up, the wet patch on Jimin’s shoulder, and the more than just tousled hair.

“What the actual fuck?” explodes from Yoongi before his filter can kick in. Jimin flinches away from his reflection to gaze over at Yoongi. It’s a gaze that’s surprisingly apathetic. Recognition soon clicks in and a telltale smirk gets plastered onto those swollen lips.

“Hey,” Jimin drawls out, “Pattie-Cake; whatcha doing here?”

“Not hooking up in a fucking public university bathroom,” Yoongi basically sneers.  Jimin scratches the back of his head like he’s been reprimanded by a kindergarten teacher, which Yoongi strangely feels is accurate. What Yoongi should do is shut his trap and piss like he intended to do, because who is he to judge what Jimin does?

“Hey, don’t diss it until you try it…though,” Jimin pauses turning his stare to the door behind Yoongi, “I don’t recommend doing it with someone who just got rejected, it gets a little messy," and Jimin points to his soaked shoulder.

Yoongi is gaping like a fish, unsure of how to proceed until the door behind him opens. The guy who enters looks at Yoongi and Jimin with a raised eyebrow before back-stepping and racing out. As soon as the door closes again, Jimin is laughing hysterically and Yoongi is more than displeased. If he is going to be accused for hooking up in public, he rather it be at least true.

Jimin catches a glance at the clock above the door and cuts his laughter off with muttered curses. His debauched appearance is quickly rearranged to resemble something presentable. He slings on an across-body bag and leaves with a passing wink and smirk.












So, Hoseok is missing and it’s freaking Yoongi out. He knows the dance audition is later that day and Hoseok is always more than a mess of nerves. Yoongi tries to calm the guy down out of the goodness of his usually cold heart, but how the fuck is he supposed to do his good deed of the day when he can’t find the miserable sop.

Hoseok’s dorm room is empty, the caf shows no sign of him, the rest of his friends don’t know shit, which leaves the Performing Arts building to search.  He checks the first floor with no dice. The second and third are the same, until he turns down one hallway on the fourth.

He sees orange and Yoongi’s heart jumps.

Jimin has a crying Hoseok in a tight embrace. There’s a soft whispering echoing down the hall. It’s all positive words obviously aimed to calm Hoseok down. Yoongi can hear Jimin mentioning how flawless Hoseok dances, and how he’s the best the department’s ever had. Which Yoongi has told Hoseok several times, but it seems like Jimin might be getting somewhere when Hoseok lets out one deep breath in and out. A hand runs up and down Hoseok's back before they separate.

Hoseok nods at whatever Jimin is telling him now and Yoongi can see a small smile appearing.

Jimin glances up once and then twice when he realizes that someone, Yoongi, is standing a few feet away. Yoongi manages a stuttered, “H-Hoseok,” before Jimin can say anything else. Hoseok visibly tenses before slowly turning around to meet a more than pissed off Yoongi.

“Uh,” is all that comes out the sniffling idiot’s mouth. Yoongi finally makes his way over while opening his backpack. He throws a travel pack of tissues which Hoseok catches with ease. Yoongi opens a chocolate bar and shoves a large piece of it into Hoseok’s mouth.

“We’re going to have a talk later about your disappearance act,” Yoongi grabs a tissue from the pack still clutched against Hoseok’s chest and pats away at any visible tears, “Right now, you got about twenty minutes to clean up and show ‘em the beauty of my track, along with a nice side of your flailing limbs,” Hoseok is looking like he’s going to start crying again but with the addition of a smile, “No, buddy, save the happy tears until after you beat this audition’s ass to the ground.” Yoongi then digs around for an eye sized ice pack that Yoongi bought especially for Hoseok’s crying moments.

A minute later and Hoseok is walking down the hall with his back straight and an ice pack switching between each eye every few seconds.

“Friend of yours?”

Yoongi whips around to see Jimin tilting his head to the side. Yes, Yoongi will choose to ignore this unwarranted puppy imitation. He will

“Since middle school,” Yoongi murmurs, “you?”

Jimin shrugs, “Had a project together once for an elective course. Nice guy, don’t find many who are that in-touch with their emotional side.”

Yoongi feels his figurative hackles rise, "That a problem?" because Yoongi will not tolerate smack-talk about Hoseok.

“Nah man, “Jimin smirks, “it’s refreshing. Hoseok is the epitome of honesty, no games or any of that shit.”

It’s funny Jimin would say that, because whatever is going on between Yoongi and Jimin sure feels like a game. But, Yoongi holds his tongue because Jimin did what Yoongi wasn’t able to do this time.

“Thanks,” is the best Yoongi can say. He looks down to the remaining chocolate in his hands and decides to motion it forward. Jimin shakes his head.

“No need,” Jimin says while shoving his hands in the front pockets of his fashionable sweats, “so…” Jimin kicks dust on the floor before shaking his head, “no, never mind.”  

Yoongi wants to say something. He just isn’t sure what yet, but eventually, “Yoongi,” stumbles out, “3rd year, music production,”

Jimin eyes him up and down before nodding, “Jimin, 2nd year, Dance”

Yeah, Yoongi may already know those facts but Jimin doesn’t need to know that he does.

Suddenly, Jimin’s name is called from behind Yoongi. Jimin is then immediately beaming and waves a hand to whoever the fuck it is. Yoongi will admit he may feel mildly irritated by the interruption.

“See you around Pattie-Cake,”  

And, what do you know, Jimin rushes past him with a wink and a smirk and, Yoongi does not like this déjà-vu.

Really, fuck whatever the hell is happening a-and Jimin can go fuck himself while he’s at it.












Okay, Yoongi didn’t mean that.

Please, gods or whatever divine powers out there, Yoongi did not mean that so what the fuck.

Sure, Yoongi would have loved to see Jimin having an expression other than the usual sultry gaze or dopey smile. Really, being mortified would be funny in any other circumstance but not this one.

Jimin is staring at Yoongi, looking pretty bewildered which really goes for the both of them.

Yoongi had good intentions, okay? It sounded like someone was in pain. A bad bug is going around and people have been dropping like flies the past week. Yoongi is a fucking saint.

And now Saint Yoongi is aware that the sounds of someone in pain are very similar to those of someone jerking off. In a tiny privately rented study room. You know, where people are supposed to study. Not jerk off.

“Wha—“ Jimin sputters, “Close the fucking door!”

Yoongi somehow complies through the haze. However, a few more seconds and he realizes that he did indeed close the door, but with his fucking body still inside the crammed room. The very same crammed study room that has Jimin sitting at a desk… with his hand frozen down the front of his pants.

Jimin looks less than impressed and maybe a bit confused. Yoongi, on the other hand, is focusing on the wall where a bulletin board is hung. There’s fliers for tutors (which Jimin might need considering he’s not fucking studying), a mental health helpline (which Yoongi will probably need) and one ‘Consent is sexy!’ poster to really bring Yoongi’s current situation home. 

“Dude,” Jimin groans, “I don’t really know what the fuck is going on, I’m kind of busy here. So, you can, you know, leave.”

“It sounded like you were sick,” it’s the blandest tone Yoongi can muster. The room is noticeably warmer now. Jimin licks his lips and blatantly checks out Yoongi. Oh shit, there’s that smirk.

“What? Wanna help me out, doc?”  Jimin then leans back and begins pumping—oh fucking shit, Yoongi cannot believe this.

“Stop!” Yoongi finds himself shouting. Jimin noticeably flinches and Yoongi does not care, okay. This stops now.

“Y-you,” Yoongi clenches his fists, “you’ve got all… this,” Yoongi motions to all of Jimin with flourish, “going for you, yet, you resort to selling yourself short for-for what? Do you not stop and think, hey I’m better than a comfort fuck or booty call or whatever the fuck else you do for all those undeserving shits you call friends?” 

Jimin’s pretty little face scrunches up and no, Yoongi’s on a roll.

“Well, I’m not one of them, okay? I’m not that new friend you need to entice to stick around by having them fuck you until next Tuesday. If we are doing this, we will do this the right fucking way. So you can finish what you started by yourself and come talk to me when you’ve come to your senses.”

Yoongi then bolts out of there like his tail is on fire.












Namjoon is probably thinking that Yoongi needs an alcohol induced intervention or something. They’re sitting at a bar at their university pub and Namjoon just gives him a look while sliding a shot of vodka over. Okay, Yoongi admits that all week he could be found cringing occasionally while staring off into space. Not that Yoongi can help it, come on, how could he let himself live after that disaster with Jimin.

It takes a few more shots for him to actually tell Namjoon anything close to what happened. Namjoon, being the asshole he is, snorts into his beer and laughs like he’s trying to get the entire pub’s attention. Yoongi cuts it off with a swift kick to the sheen.

“So you basically told fuck boy to stop fucking around?” Namjoon shakes his head, “and lemme guess, you proceeded to tell him you’d be his one and only?”

“How the fuck did you get that?” Yoongi growls, glaring with all his might, “dude, aren’t you supposed to be, I don’t know, helping me out here?”

“Chill, I’m reading through your subtext bullshit, Yoongi,” Namjoon then takes another sip of his beer, “You want him, but you don’t want him to keep giving bits of himself to anyone who asks.”

“No, Joon, I am a concerned individual, okay?” Yoongi leans in closer, “sure, he’s got some fine eyes on him but, his idea of friendship seems really…distorted or some shit. Like, he’s being some fucked up version of selfless. The kid needs someone to help him out.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes, “that kid is a fully functioning adult and can probably give you more insight on his actions than me or your introspection.”

“That kid is fucking people in bathrooms. That’s plural.”


“And he probably doesn’t even like them all that much.”

Namjoon shrugs a little before he turns abruptly to Yoongi with a goofy grin, “I got it!” he claps a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder, “he’s a nymphomaniac!”

Yoongi scrunches his eyebrows together and is about to retort when the words process. A nymphomaniac? Well, that’s one explanation.

The sound of broken glass makes Yoongi glances over his shoulder for a quick second but the scene behind his back gets his attention.

Two guys are up in each other’s faces, clearly inebriated and furious. There’s a shove to a shoulder and then another. One of them spits in the other’s face and that’s when fists fly. People are moving to give the two room and to also avoid getting caught in the mess. The pub is small enough that there’s no bouncer or security nearby but Yoongi sees the bartender on the phone looking especially annoyed.

Then, a head of bright orange hair is there and of course he was in the pub the entire fucking time.

Jimin is forcibly trying to pull the guys apart while avoiding getting hit. His dancing background must help his cause because he smoothly maneuvers himself better than any man Yoongi knows. Then, as soon as there’s room between the two guys, Jimin is squeezing himself right in there. He’s shoving the guys apart continuously and alternating stern glares between them. His mouth speaks like it’s reprimanding and full of intent. One guy looks like he wants to push Jimin aside but Jimin notices in time to dodge.

Before Yoongi’s eyes, Jimin, the wonder boy, is walking the panting guys out of the pub in a matter of minutes.

“Was that…” Namjoon raises an eyebrow.

“Yes, but don’t, just, don’t.”

Yoongi slams his forehead to the bar and waves a hand to the bartender for another shot.












The paper wasn’t writing itself, that Yoongi was sure of. No matter how much he wished the resources would read themselves and words would flow out his fingers like magic, it wasn’t going to happen. 

However, magic apparently has a mind of its own because a mug of black coffee is now placed beside Yoongi’s laptop and the seat opposite to him is occupied.

Jimin is smiling down at his own mug, legs crossing and back pressed against the back of his chair. He looks all casual and comfy, and not at all like Yoongi had put him on blast two weeks prior.

“I wasn’t sure how you took your coffee,” Jimin nudges the offered coffee mug closer to Yoongi who is staring pretty carefully at Jimin. Because maybe, just maybe his eyes can figure out why Jimin has suddenly appeared. Yoongi then looks to the coffee and decides he should take the opportunity to gather some sort of bearing. So, he stands with the mug in hand, sans words. He shuffles his way to the island that holds the different creamers and sweetners and dumps two whole sugar packets in, though the second one was really to add more time to himself. 

“So, what do you take?” Jimin asks as soon as Yoongi sits back down, he leans in a little closer, “just sugar then?”

Yoongi nods once before taking a sip of the coffee.  He can’t seem to bring himself to even look at Jimin now. He knows he’s there and looking good as usual, so there’s no need right? The more Yoongi looks, the more uncomfortable he feels anyways.

Jimin leans onto the table and tilts his head to the side a little, which makes Yoongi squirm just that much more.

There’s a smile and Yoongi can feel his reasoning slipping.

“Just to put it out there,” Jimin begins in a lowered voice, “I’m not actually a sex addict.” Yoongi chokes on his own spit at that. Well, Yoongi can safely assume Jimin did hear Namjoon and his conversation at the pub after all, “It feels good, don’t get me wrong, but I didn’t go out looking for it or anything. It’s just…people asked and I delivered.”

Jimin then leans back with what Yoongi assumes to be a sigh of relief before it’s followed by a smile, “There! With that out of the way, we can do this,” Jimin puts his fingers up air quotes, “the right fucking way.”

Yoongi glances between his laptop and Jimin a few times before he slowly folds the screen down. He reaches for his coffee and takes one big gulp. Yoongi isn’t sure what he’s feeling right now. It’s something like a mix of confused, embarrassed, and that underlying desire which hangs around whenever Jimin’s nearby.

Yoongi takes a big breath and squints his eyes at Jimin, “Okay, what do you actually want from me?” Because Yoongi is not playing anymore games.

Jimin takes his bottom lip into his mouth and looks over Yoongi a few seconds, which Yoongi grants because that means Jimin is taking his question seriously.

“I-I’m not sure really,” Jimin looks out the window beside them, the light across his features makes him look so ethereal and it’s not fair, “I kind of convinced myself that whatever you had in mind for us was the right option. So, the ball’s more in your court.” Jimin’s gaze is right back on Yoongi, and Yoongi’s not going to admit that he feels a small tingle travel up his limbs.

It seemed like many people have had this opportunity in the past, the opportunity to have Jimin in any which way they please. But, they’re all a bunch of idiots in Yoongi’s opinion. Because not one of them used this chance to try and see Jimin for who he really is. Yoongi, he—he’s not even sure who Jimin is himself. So, that’s where they’re going to start.

“Why dance?” he asks, in what he hopes to be a nonchalant tone.

Jimin’s eyebrows bunch together in that cute and confused manner, “Uh, why? What does that have to do—"

“It’s called getting to know people; you know, that thing where you ask and answer questions,” Yoongi then switches his stare to the table, “so, why dance?”

It then clicks. Jimin’s eyes widen is a bit before they slant into half-moons with an accompanying soft smile. There’s a slight flush washing over his cheeks as he recounts his everlasting love for dance.

As time passes and mugs get refilled, Yoongi can only feel so thankful that everyone before him had missed all these parts of Jimin. Because Yoongi knows that, just like him, they wouldn't stand much of a chance. 












Yoongi is on his way to meet Hoseok. At least, that’s what he tells an inquiring Namjoon when Yoongi is more than rushing to pack away his laptop and textbook at the end of class. Truth be told, Yoongi only just texted Hoseok on his way to the Performing Arts building to meet up… when he’s fully aware Hoseok still has an hour of practice left. But hey, Namjoon doesn’t need to know that, and he also doesn’t need to know that Jimin has a two-hour gap between classes at that very moment too.

So, Yoongi is now in the building, trying hard to appear as cool as cucumber and not in search of someone. He’s aiming for a coincidental meeting, since they seem to have a good track record for those. Sure, Yoongi may be tailoring this meeting a little more intentionally, but serendipity can grab a hold of things and change it. Heck, Jimin might be off-campus for all he knows.

But, Yoongi shortly finds out that Jimin is indeed not off-campus, because there he is, in an empty corner classroom with someone wrapped around him like a leech, sniffles and tears galore. Yoongi, for some reason he rather not divulge, sneaks behind the open door that Jimin has his back to. There’s this sense of déjà vu, with an added twinge of foreboding. Yoongi realizes that unfortunately, this sobbing guy isn’t Hoseok, or someone else Yoongi knows to be a decent and keeps-his-hands-to-himself kind of guy.  

The distressed student starts to calm himself, probably due to Jimin’s comforting whispers in his ear (really? again?). However, hands start to drift from where Jimin’s shirt meets his tight jeans, and those fingers play with the hem before they dip down into dangerous territory.

Fuck, Yoongi is seeing red. He wants to march right in and give the guy something to really cry about. However, Yoongi is aware he doesn’t really have any right to Jimin or his decisions. Really, red turns to grey, because Yoongi is feeling rather pathetic hidden by that door, with such a huge figurative torch in hand.

He has had it to about here with everything regarding Park Jimin, and Yoongi is so going to turn around and walk away—when suddenly Jimin is moving. The hand down the back of Jimin’s pants is swiftly pulled out and Jimin is slowly putting distance between him and the guy. He brushes away the leftover tears with a gentle caress that Yoongi doesn’t think the handsy guy deserves. But, god, the guy does seem pretty dejected and it’s making Yoongi jump to wishful conclusions. Sure, Yoongi doesn’t hear shit, but it certainly looks like Jimin is actually rejecting the guy’s advances.

Jimin then whips around to face the room's exit, his arm comfortably around the guy’s shoulder, “Listen, I know this guy, ever heard of Namjoon from Accounting?” Jimin is walking towards the very door Yoongi is standing behind and fuck fuck fuck, now what, “he’s like a mad genius, treat him to a few beers, and he’ll tutor you no problem. I’ll text you his details later, okay?”

The two of them pass through the doorway and past the hiding Yoongi at a snail’s pace. Yoongi is biting his lip so hard, trying to keep down the massive grin that’s bound to take over his face.


Yoongi almost gets whiplash when turning to a quizzical Hoseok.

“Uh, do I want to know why you’re behind a door?”

Yoongi snorts through his nose, “I-I dropped something, what do you think I’m—" yeah, Hoseok’s not buying it, so Yoongi settles for the standard, “Shut up and mind your own business if you want me to buy you shit.”

Hoseok must have been really hungry or broke, because he keeps his lips sealed no matter how many unusual little smiles Yoongi sprouts during dinner.












“How the fuck do you know Jimin?”

“Oh hey Yoongi, have you checked your tone lately? It sounds a little—”

“Answer the fucking question.”

“Yoongi, bro,” Namjoon has his hands up in a defensive stance. He should have figured there was trouble when Yoongi came stomping down the hallway. Yoongi further announces his arrival by slamming Namjoon’s locker shut. Namjoon’s reflexes must be better than he thought, because his fingers were in some serious danger for a second there, “well, I was hanging out with Hoseok one day and he came over to chat for a bit. He seems like a pretty nice guy?”

Namjoon then pulls out his phone and focuses on it for a bit, but Yoongi is not fucking done yet.

“Like, a nice nice guy, or a nice in bed guy?” Yoongi is, yup, snarling. Namjoon rolls his eyes and sighs like Yoongi is exhausting, which hey, Namjoon can suck it because he better take Yoongi’s inquisition seriously if he wants his balls intact.

“Chill the fuck out, man,” Namjoon taps away at his cellphone, a smirk inching its way on his lips, which kind of pisses Yoongi off that much more, “Besides, word is that Jimin is a changed man.”

Yoongi’s murderous thoughts pause for a moment, “what? What do you mean? Details, Joon, what’s with you always lacking with those?”

Namjoon puts his phone in his back pocket with a strangely satisfied expression, “What do you think I mean, Yoongi? Everyone’s mopping over how fuck boy isn’t fucking anymore. Sure, they’re still singing his praises a bit, but they’re missing how he’s not putting out.” Namjoon then starts snickering behind his hand, “dude, your face, you went from furious squirrel to puss-in-boots in two seconds flat.”

“What the fuck,” Yoongi punches Namjoon in the arm with enough force to garner a squeak, “Like you can talk, rat face.”

Namjoon fakes a horrified and wounded expression, “after all these years, is that how you see me?”

“I’ll show you what I—“ Yoongi starts to say when a loud and echoing ‘Namjoon!’ comes down from the hall behind Yoongi.

“I came as fast as I could,” Jimin is right there, hands on his knees and slightly panting, “Where is—“ and Jimin does a double take to the frozen Yoongi beside him “oh, uh, hey Yoongi. You look,” Jimin pauses while looking him up and down, “absolutely fine, uh.”

Jimin searches Yoongi's appearance once more before glaring towards Namjoon. There’s a flop of a hand wave and off Namjoon flies, sprinting down the hallway while shouting about being late for a class that Yoongi knows doesn’t exist.

There’s an awkward silence that settles between the two of them. Yoongi is putting the pieces of the situation together and he must be wearing a shit-eating grin, because he sure as hell is smarter than anyone gives him credit for.

“What’d he text you?” Yoongi nudges Jimin who seems to find everything but Yoongi interesting.

Jimin then clears his throat, glancing at Yoongi from the corner of his eye, “T-text? What text? I just heard Namjoon needed something. But, I guess I was wrong, heh.” And Jimin flashes Yoongi a big puffy cheeked smile. It’s begging Yoongi to drop it, but like hell he is.

“Really? You seemed to be in a rush? You need a drink?” Yoongi is smirking his ass off, and Jimin is the picture of uncomfortable. Oh, how the tables have turned.

“Nah, I’m fine, just decided to, you know, jog here. To exercise, gotta keep myself healthy, right?” Jimin shrugs his shoulders, but he’s still avoiding Yoongi’s eyes. So, Yoongi moves so he’s right in front of Jimin.

“Seriously Jimin,” Yoongi leans a little forward, “What did Namjoon text you?”

Jimin looks down to Yoongi’s lips and back up to his eyes for a bit before he sighs out.

“He said, you, um, you were getting into a fight.”

Yoongi raises his brow at that, “and that made you come running?”

Jimin grips the strap of his red over-the-shoulder bag a little tighter, “he may have mentioned that some guy thought you were hitting on his girlfriend.”

Yoongi snorts pretty loudly at that, “And you thought I was…what? Sweet talking some chick—”

“No!” Jimin interrupts, “You’re an ass, all right?” Jimin probably doesn’t even know he’s pouting a little bit, “I fucking came running to set the guy straight.”

“Oh? How so?” Yoongi boldly hooks a finger around one of Jimin’s belt loops, “Do elaborate.”

“’Cause why the fuck would you hit on someone when you have…” Jimin is then biting his bottom lip, staring down at how his hips are being dragged to meet Yoongi’s.

“Have what?”

“Have me, you fucking idiot. You satisfied yet?” Jimin is now playing with Yoongi’s own front belt loops and god yes, this is going better than Yoongi could hope for.

“Do I though? Have you, I mean, do I have all of you?”

“Yeah, and it’s too late, so there aren't any take-backs. You’re in knee-deep now.” Jimin is finally sending out that familiar smirk and Yoongi’s body is humming with such absolute want.

Yoongi nods and smiles. Jimin stares at him pretty intently for a few seconds before he rolls his eyes in an almost fond manner.

“Yoongi,” Jimin whispers, “this would be the part where you kiss me,”

And so, Yoongi does.