Archive of Our Own

    Jimin is in the middle of an especially complicated jump when a knock on his door informs him he’s not alone anymore. He gracefully ends his move and turns toward the noise, an eyebrow raised. He’s not sure how long he’s been practicing.

    “Hey,” Jungkook says with a smile, leaning into the doorframe. “Are you gonna work all day? You do know it’s saturday, right?”

    Jimin glances at the clock. It’s barely noon, so he shrugs.

    “Do I have something else to do before our night out? Might as well get things done today, I’m planning on getting wrecked tonight. It’s not like I’ll be able to do shit tomorrow.”

    The expression on Jungkook’s face turns embarrassed.

    “Yeaaah, about that… I’m sorry, Chim, I won’t be able to join you. Tae just told me he’s planned a surprise date and everything, I’m actually leaving right now.”

    “What?” Jimin exclaims, feeling his sweat cool down quicker than normal, but Jungkook’s awkward face confirms what he thinks he’s heard. “Oh come on, why would he do that today of all days? It’s not even a special occasion for you two.”

    “I guess he doesn’t know when your birthday is,” Jungkook admits with an apologetic grimace. “He booked everything without telling me, otherwise I’d have told him.”

    Jimin sighs and waves his friend away, feeling both disappointed and hurt. Honestly, he’s known Taehyung for more than a year now, and Jungkook and him have been dating for who knows how long, how did they not talk about their respective plans earlier?

    “Alright, can’t be helped, I guess,” he groans. “Just go, don’t let me make you late. Have fun.”

    He knows he shouldn’t be that sore about it, it’s not that of a big deal, but still, it stings. It’s not everyday he turns 25, and he didn’t even ask that much, just a night out at the pub with his best friend. Just get shitfaced and maybe go dancing at some club later, nothing fancy.

    Jungkook looks at him with a worried face. Jungkook is always worried about him those days. It’s true Jimin is kinda trying to get himself drowned in his own work, but it’s not like he has much else to do. No one waiting for him at home, and his friends more and more busy with their own personal lives.

    “I’m sorry, Chim, really. We’ll go out next week-end, yeah?”

    “It won’t be my birthday next week,” Jimin grumbles childishly.

    “I’m really sorry,” Jungkook repeats, as if it’d help Jimin to hear it again. “What are you gonna do today, then?” he asks, in a not-quite-cheerful manner, obviously trying to distract Jimin from his defection.

    “Dunno,” Jimin shrugs. “Ask Hobi? Or just stay here. There’s stuff I want to work on.”

    Jungkook nods and Jimin turns his back on him, resuming what he was doing before the interruption. He hears Jungkook sigh and leave with a last “bye, Chim”, and waits for the sound of the front door to stop moving. All motivation has left his body. It’s time for lunch anyway, and he has to admit he’s a bit hungry. He’s been working for almost three hours already.

    He walks to the changing room, still unnerved by the silence despite being alone here on a weekly, if not daily, basis. The empty academy always has a sad atmosphere about it, lacking the usual music and laughter and voices. But there are no students during the week-end, and Jimin comes here to practice his personal choreographies, since he’s got nothing else to do - except stay at home and watch trash TV.

    He doesn’t bother with a shower since he’s just gonna come back here after he grabs a sandwich at the bakery down the street. He shrugs on his hoodie and slips into his trainers, checks he has his wallet and the key to the front door of the academy, then leaves in the cold autumn air.

    It’s chillier than he thought, and the wind doesn’t take long to make him regret not taking a warmer jacket. Jimin tries to protect his ears and face with his hood and hides his bare hands in his pockets, hurrying to the small shop. The cashier smiles at him and immediately prepares Jimin’s favorite sandwich, but the dancer is really not in the mood for their usual banter. He barely says a word before going out again and all but running back to the warmth of the academy.

    Once settled in the break room with his food, he sighs and switches the coffee machine on, then fishes his phone out of his pocket. He rolls his eyes at Jungkook’s text ( “Sorry again, Chim. I promise I’ll make it up to you!” ) and scrolls for another contact. He sends a few words, vaguely hoping for a miracle.

    Hey, wanna grab a drink tonight?

    He barely has to wait a minute when the device chimes with Hoseok’s answer.

    Weren’t you supposed to go out with JK?

    He ditched me for Taehyung, Jimin texts back, feeling a bit guilty that he didn’t invite Hobi in the first place. But then he remembers he did, in fact, and his friend already declined.

    Oh man, I’m sorry Jiminie! I’m out of town with Jin and Namjoon, remember?

    Damn it. He’s ready to push his phone away when a new text comes in, still from Hobi.

    You could join us, though? If you take the train this afternoon, you could be with us tonight. I asked the guys, they don’t mind :)

    Jimin reads the text twice before fully registering the offer, then purses his lips, hesitating between guilt and unease. Hoseok is always so caring, borderline motherly. But joining him on his first week-end out with his two boyfriends? No thanks. Being the only single one in their little group is bad enough. It’s his birthday, damn it, and he’d rather spend it alone than playing third wheel. Fourth, in this case.

    Nah, I don’t wanna crash your romantic getaway. Have fun together. Don’t worry about me.

    He switches his phone to silent and finishes his sandwich without paying attention to the taste. What now? Spending the whole afternoon dancing the disappointment away is not too tempting, but it’s still less depressing than going home and just wallowing on his couch. And hell, he can go out on his own, too. Maybe if he gets drunk enough, he’ll forget his loneliness - or maybe he’ll find someone to have a nice night with. Not that Jimin is used to picking up guys in pubs, he’s way too shy for that, but his annoyed self can get quite competitive. His drunk, annoyed self is even worse. So who knows?

    In the end, Jimin decides to work on new ideas. He’s been thinking about creating an actual piece to go with one of Suga’s songs, and he’s got all the time in the world now, without having to endure Jungkook’s knowing smirk each time Jimin suggests using the rapper’s music. He can’t help it if he has the biggest crush on that guy. His songs are great for dancing and he looks like he just walked out of Jimin’s fantasies: how else is he supposed to react? So right now, he’s gonna indulge himself, blast Suga’s music in his room and work on that blindfolded choreography he’s been imagining.

    Jimin starts slowly, warming up again after his break. He stretches his body, preparing for the effort, and starts mapping out his steps in his head. He’s glad he brought his laptop with him, and plugs it into the room’s sound system so he can watch Suga’s music video while listening to the music, studying the singer’s moves, facial expressions and lyrics - even though he already knows them by heart.

    Little by little, the choreography takes shape. It’s mostly classical, spiced up by bits and pieces of other styles. Jimin likes to mix things up and the contrast between his smooth, fluid movements and the rapper’s almost brutal song is giving him chills. He can almost feel the man’s burning eyes on him as if he were in the room with him.

    When he feels ready, Jimin tries dancing with his eyes closed, only opening them when he’s on the verge of losing his balance. It takes him a few tries before managing to keep them closed during the whole six minutes of the song. He takes a short break, downs half his water bottle and stretches again. Sweat is trickling down his spine, making his shirt stick to his skin, but he doesn’t mind, too focused on his work.

    In the costumes storage room, he finds a scrap of silky black fabric that could work as a blindfold. Jimin smiles and skips back to his room. A look at the clock tells him he’s been at it for most of the afternoon, but it’s still early enough to not disturb the neighbours with a bit of loud music. The studio is well isolated anyway, so Jimin turns the volume up by a few notches and puts the song on repeat so he won’t have to keep fiddling with his laptop in between trials.

    Then he faces the mirror, smirks at himself when the first notes beat along with his heart, and securely ties the fabric around his face. Then the lyrics kick in and he starts dancing, forgetting the rest of the world.

oOo

    Yoongi is not used to meeting fans outside of shows. He likes his privacy, thank you very much, and he’s not the most sociable person on earth either. When he’s touring, of course he likes to meet his audience, but he never gets to know them on a personal level. They almost always stay anonymous.

    So when Taehyung asks him if he’d agree to meet one of his friends as a birthday surprise, Yoongi’s not too sure. He’s not something to show around to please people, damn it, he’s a human being. But Tae can get quite persuasive, what with his perfect grin and smooth talking. Yoongi has never been able to tell him no.

    So here he is, walking toward Bangtan Academy with Taehyung and his boyfriend Jungkook, on their way to surprise one unaware Park Jimin. The only thing Yoongi knows about the guy is that he’s Tae’s ballet teacher, that it’s his 25th birthday and that he’s a huge Suga fan. Honestly, now that he’s there, he feels a bit curious as to how a ballet-dancing guy can also be a fan of heavy rap. Also, Taehyung wouldn’t introduce them to each other if Jimin was a creep.

    When they get in, the first thing they notice is the loud music coming from a room at the end of the hall. Yoongi raises a brow, unsettled.

    “You told him I was coming?” he asks as his own voice fills the air.

    Jungkook shakes his head, and Taehyung just chuckles.

    “Nope, not a word. Kookie told him we wouldn’t be here tonight. Told you he was a fan.”

    “He likes to dance along to your music,” Jungkook adds with an embarrassed shrug. “He’s probably doing that right now.”

    Yoongi snorts, pictures of a tutu-clad man popping into his mind. It’s truly ridiculous.

    “I gotta see that,” he smirks. “Don’t make a noise.”

    The warning is useless; their footsteps are fully covered by the heavy bass, and they make it to the room without being detected. The door is ajar, and Yoongi pushes it slowly open as he reaches it.

    He glances into the room, and oh boy, he was not ready for the sight that meets his eyes.

    He feels his mouth go dry instantly as his gaze falls upon the one who can only be Park Jimin, and distractedly hears Jungkook’s splutter and Tae’s chuckle. Damn.

    He’s been looking at him for all of two seconds and he already feels heat creep up his neck. The man in the room is moving like water, like velvet, his body following the rhythm with a sensuality Yoongi has never witnessed before. The odd combination of the rough music with the smooth dance is hypnotic, and Yoongi tries to focus, but his eyes are riveted on Jimin.

    He manages to regain a bit of self control when Jungkook clears his throat, clearly awkward, but the small sound doesn’t disturb the dancer. He still hasn’t noticed them, and as long as they’ll remain silent, he won’t, for he’s wearing a black blindfold. Who even dances with a blindfold on, seriously? And who wears such tight jeans - Yoongi’s not sure they can be called jeans at this point. They’re more of a second skin clinging to Jimin’s perfect legs, following the curves of his muscles. The top of his body isn’t less sinful, covered by an oversized t-shirt that barely hides anything now that it’s drenched in sweat, sticking to Jimin’s shoulder blades and abs.

    Yoongi feels Tae’s hand clap on his shoulder, and a whisper in his ear.

    “Not too disappointed, I take it?”

    “Shut it,” he answers in a low growl. He wants to see Jimin dance to the end of the song. And man, does he dance. Yoongi swallows when Jimin turns around, facing him without knowing, and slowly strokes his torso all the way down to his hips, his legs parted. His slightly open mouth lets out his tongue, wetting his lips with a breathy sigh, and his silvery-blond hair flows when he rolls his head back. His hand grips his own shirt, moving it up, revealing damp skin and a tattoo Yoongi doesn’t have time to fully see before the fabric comes down and Jimin continues to move.

    “I’m pretty sure we shouldn’t be watching this,” Jungkook mutters.

    “I thought it was his birthday, not mine,” Yoongi breathes, ignoring the truth in Jungkook’s words.

    Yeah, Jimin probably wouldn’t dance like that if he knew he was being observed - and by who - but Yoongi can’t tear his eyes away. The sight is intoxicating.

    But then it comes to a brutal stop, when the song ends and Jimin concludes his choreography with a truly impressive somersault, landing right on the last beat of the music. He stays on the ground for a second before rolling down on his back, chest heaving. He raises one hand to wipe back his damp hair from his forehead and lets out a shuddering breath, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk. There’s a moment of silence, then Yoongi can’t take it any longer.

    “Man, that was hot ,” he says out loud, his voice hoarser than he expected.

    The dancer seems to jump right out of his skin and scrambles to his feet while trying to get rid of his blindfold. He all but rips it off, messing his already wild hair, and stares at the door with the look of a deer caught in headlights. No, he’s even more petrified than that, Yoongi can tell.

    “What the fuck,” Jimin breathes, but then Tae jumps next to Yoongi, fully opening the door.

    “Surprise!” he sing-songs. “Happy birthday, Chim!”

    Jimin’s eyes grow even wider, mouth hanging open. A crimson blush soon covers his cheeks - his entire face, in fact - and he squeaks, his eyes landing everywhere but on his friends or Yoongi.

    “...How long have you been there?” he tentatively asks, his voice so high-pitched he’s probably woken several dogs in the neighbourhood.

    “Pretty much from the beginning of the song,” Yoongi offers with a bright smile.

    Jimin drowns his face in his hands with a groan.

    “Holy mother of fuck, please tell me this is not real.”

    “But it is, Jiminie!” Tae exclaims, visibly proud of himself. He takes off his shoes and slides on the wooden flooring until he can hug Jimin tight, half-shaking him with excitement.

    Yoongi chuckles. Behind him, Jungkook is just as red as Jimin. He probably has never seen his friend perform like that either. As for himself, Yoongi doesn’t feel the slightest doubt about this evening anymore. He’s met awkward fans already, but this… this is gold.

    “Man, please don’t feel embarrassed,” he says when Tae has managed to take a hold of Jimin’s hand to prevent him from hiding. “It was really great. Impressive, even.”

    “It wasn’t supposed to be seen ,” Jimin whines, still trying to fight Taehyung. “Let me go, Tae, I’m all sweaty and gross.”

    Sweaty, yeah, but gross is not the word Yoongi would use. Jimin is smoking hot. Probably illegally so. Still, Taehyung relents and hops out of the room, his impossible grin as bright as the sun.

    “See, Yoongi, told you you wouldn’t regret coming!”

    Yoongi nods fervently at that, truly glad he surrendered to Tae’s request. Jimin seems to regain his senses a bit; he’s not as breathless, even though his blush is still firmly in place.

    “Is anyone going to explain to me how you got freaking Suga to come here?” he asks, rubbing his neck.

    Jungkook finally appears and waves at him, half-awkward, half-satisfied.

    “It’s all Tae’s doing,” he says with a wink for his boyfriend. “We’ve been planning that for a while now, ever since Tae discovered you were a fan, really.”

    “But… but…” Jimin scrambles for words, and Yoongi decides to end his suffering.

    “Tae’s an old friend of mine. He told me about you, and Jungkook’s surprise idea, so here I am. Oh, by the way, my real name’s Yoongi. You can call me that.”

    Jimin’s face clearly states he would be happy to die right then and there, and a shy smile spreads on his face, his blush brighter than ever. He could guide ships through the fog, were he standing at the top of a freaking lighthouse. How can one be so fucking sinful one moment and switch to cute as hell without transition is a mystery to Yoongi, but he’s not complaining.

    “And you agreed to come for me ?” Jimin breathes, incredulous. “And you’re asking me to call you by your first name and you’re here with your eyes and smile and… holy shit. Sorry, I’m rambling. It’s been a long day.”

    Jungkook smiles at that and extends a hand to Jimin, who grabs it like a lifeline.

    “Go shower, Chim. You’ll feel better, and then we’re all going out for dinner. We’ve got a birthday to celebrate.”

oOo

    Jimin slowly relaxes as the water flows down his body, just shy of burning his skin, taking the tension hardening his muscles away. He tries to wash quickly, but it feels definitely too good to rub his skin, the feeling of Suga - no, Yoongi’s eyes on him still vivid in his mind. He can’t believe the man is actually there , alive and breathing, talking like Jimin’s little act wasn’t ridiculously embarrassing. Damn, he feels like a teenage fanboy. He probably would have ended up touching himself right then and there, hadn’t he been interrupted. Fuck , thank God he was interrupted. He couldn’t live with himself if Yoongi witnessed that. Letting him see the dancing was bad enough.

    He turns off the shower, trying to keep his mind clear. He’s going to act like the adult he is and not embarrass himself any further. Yoongi is kind enough to have agreed to this meeting. Jimin shoves any thought of the rapper out of his head while he dries himself and gets dressed, blessing Jungkook’s foresight in the process. His friend has brought him clothes for the evening, and never has Jimin been so glad to have given him a spare key to his flat. He would have died of shame if he had had to go to dinner in his old sweats and trainers.

    But thanks to Jungkook, he gets to wear his best trousers, the black ones that make his legs look a mile long, a deep red button-down and his favorite jacket. Jungkook has even thought to take his leather boots. Jimin looks at himself in the mirror and swears to apologise to Jungkook for his cold behaviour earlier in the day.

    “Chim, you ready?” comes Taehyung’s voice outside the bathroom, and Jimin jumps.

    “Yeah, coming!”

    He touches his hair up one last time, adjusts the black choker around his throat and nods at his reflection. He’s gone light on the make-up for once, only lining his eyes with a bit of khol and a teeny, tiny bit of dark eyeshadow. He doesn’t want to look like he’s trying too hard, but it felt weird to not wear anything, he’s too used to it. Finally, he steps out of the bathroom and earns a wolf whistle from Taehyung.

    “My Kookie knows his way around clothes,” he muses with a smirk, “you look stunning.”

    “Shut up, Tae, I finally had stopped blushing,” Jimin grumbles. “Where are the others?”

    “They’re waiting in the hall. Jungkook thought you’d be more at ease if we weren’t all piled up here waiting for you.”

    “True,” Jimin sighs. “He’s really here, is he?” he asks without naming Yoongi, but Tae chuckles.

    “Yup. Flesh and blood.”

    “Please don’t let me make a fool of myself in front of him. I feel awkward enough after what you witnessed.”

    Tae’s smirk grows softer, and he lightly pats Jimin on the shoulder.

    “Don’t. He’s said your performance was incredible at least seventeen times while we were waiting for you. You should be proud of yourself, Chim!”

    Jimin smiles shyly and squeezes Tae’s hand.

    “Thanks.”

    He’s glad to count Taehyung among his friends. He’s a bit weird sometimes, but the artist kind of weird - Jimin can understand. Apart from that, Tae is really caring and warm and a truly good friend. Only he - and Hobi - manage to calm him down like that; Jungkook’s too similar to him to be able to pull that off.

    He takes a deep breath and follows Taehyung out of the changing room, leaving his dirty clothes there. He’ll take care of them the next day or something. When he appears in front of Jungkook and Yoongi, his friend gives him the thumbs up while the rapper looks downright stunned. Deep inside, Jimin feels a bit smug for making Yoongi choke on his own breath.

    “I think it’s time for a proper introduction,” Taehyung announces with a mock-formal tone. “Jimin, this is Yoongi, a childhood friend of mine. We grew up in the same neighbourhood. Yoongi, this is Jimin, Jungkook’s - and my - friend, and ballet teacher here at Bangtan.”

    Jimin feels his cheeks burn again, but he manages to stay calm and shakes Yoongi’s extended hand. The rapper’s watching him like he wants to burn him alive with his eyes - which might happen if he keeps at it. Jimin’s sure he’s close to spontaneous combustion.

    “I’m really happy to meet you. I promise I won’t drool all over you like a creepy fanboy,” he says, mentally facepalming at his own tactlessness.

    “I don’t mind,” Yoongi chuckles. “That would sort of make two of us. Never knew ballet and rap could go so well together.”

    Jimin hides his face behind his hands and shudders. The thought of Yoongi drooling all over him is a bit much to take in. 

    “Please forget you ever saw that,” he begs, making his friends laugh.

    “Can’t,” Yoongi shrugs with a smirk. “It’s engraved in my mind now. But I could be nice and stop mentioning it.”

    “Please,” Jimin insists, glancing at him in between his fingers. The gaze Yoongi is landing on him doesn’t help much, what with the hunger he can read there, but Jungkook clears his throat again and suggests they all move to the restaurant already.

    Jimin starts to feel better once he’s halfway through his first drink. The alcohol probably helps a bit, but mostly the fact that no one has mentioned his dancing since they left the academy has allowed him to settle down and enjoy his night. He even managed to thank Jungkook and Taehyung for their surprise, and promised himself to send a text to Hobi later. He’s pretty sure his friend is still worrying about him spending his birthday on his own.

    All in all, they have a really nice time together. The dinner is delicious and Jimin manages to not embarrass himself too much in front of Yoongi, even though his tongue has slipped and he called him Suga a few times, earning a chuckle and a smirk from the rapper. They somehow end up talking about his work and Jimin listens to his voice like there’s no tomorrow, until Yoongi closes his mouth and looks at him with a glint in his eyes that promises trouble.

    “I know I said I wouldn’t mention it again, but… Jimin, I really, really liked your choreography. The more I think about it, the more I want to have you featured in the music video,” he drops without warning, a smug smile on his unfairly tempting lips.

    Jimin chokes, his glass still against his mouth, and thanks the gods he’s only drinking water. He has choked on alcohol before and it is painful . He splutters for a bit, speechless, until Taehyung lightly pats his back.

    “You okay, Chim?”

    Jimin clears his throat, curses inwardly at his utter incapacity to stay calm and collected, and slowly nods.

    “I’m okay, Tae, thanks. Sorry about that, I just… didn’t expect…” his voice trails off.

    “No pressure,” Yoongi smiles. “But… think about it, yeah? I noticed you followed some of the moves in the original vid. You’ve really thought it through, haven’t you? It didn’t feel like random improvisation.”

    Jimin raises a brow at that, honestly surprised - and more than a bit pleased - at how much Yoongi has picked up with just one run. Granted, it’s his own music and moves, but still. It’s both impressive and flattering that he’d pay so much attention to Jimin’s choreography. The dancer feels the blush creep up again and he tries to hide it behind a smile.

    “I’ll think about it, yeah,” he whispers. “When I come back from the dead.”

    This earns him a full-on laugh from Yoongi, and he manages to sit a little straighter, a bit proud of himself. He’s actually never heard the rapper laugh like that, out loud and eager. He’s usually all smirks and aloof snickers - but maybe that’s just Suga. Yoongi might be different from his stage persona. Jimin finishes his glass, then rolls his shoulders to stretch them and smiles at his friends.

    “Well, that was good,” he sighs contentedly. “Do I have to expect another heart attack tonight? How were you planning the rest of the night?”
    “We actually thought of going to a club,” Jungkook chuckles, “but maybe you’ve had enough dancing for today?”

    “Might I suggest a pub?” Yoongi intervenes, a slight frown on his face. “Honestly, I’m gonna look like shit next to you three. I’m all stiff and awkward when I dance.”

    He seems all embarrassed and self-conscious and awww, Jimin’s melting. Up until now, Yoongi had seemed rather confident. He’s seen the guy move in his music videos and during live shows, and he might not be the greatest dancer, but neither stiff nor awkward can describe him.

    “There’s no shame in not being as good as professional dancers,” he says sweetly. “I know the perfect place.”

    He exchanges a glance with Jungkook, who nods with a bright smile.

    “Was thinking exactly that, Chim,” he confirms. “Let’s go, Tae’s taken care of the check.”

oOo

    They actually end up in a nice pub, full of cushiony seats and dim-lighted booths, with a small dance floor in the middle of the room and an actual live band playing blues. It’s not Yoongi’s usual jam, but he’s surprised at how much he actually likes the atmosphere. Most of the booths are taken, so they settle on the high stools at the bar. Honestly, it’s probably the best spot, Yoongi thinks to himself. From where he is, he can admire Jimin and Jungkook literally owning the dance floor.

    They’ve only been here for a while, but the music was apparently too tempting for the two dancers. Taehyung has stayed on his stool next to Yoongi, his beer in hand, a playful grin on his lips.

    “Go on, say it,” Yoongi grumbles without detaching his eyes from Jimin’s body. “You’re dying to.”

    Taehyung chuckles lightly and sips at his drink.

    “You’re crushing like a schoolgirl,” he smirks.

    “Am not!” Yoongi scoffs, but Tae’s smug expression has him grumbling, “alright, I’m… interested . I’m not crushing .”

    “Whatever you say.”

    Yoongi tries to roll his eyes, but right then, Jimin sends a glance toward him and smiles a bright, I-know-you’re-looking-at-me smile, and Yoongi can just swallow hard.

    “Dammit. Look at him, Tae, how am I supposed to not crush like a schoolgirl? One moment he’s all sultry moves and searing looks and the next, he’s so cute I feel like I’m gonna cry. And now he’s back to the first option. My heart can’t take it!”

    Taehyung laughs out loud, excessively proud of himself.

    “I knew it!” he exclaims, and punches the air in victory.

    Yoongi finishes his own drink and tries to ignore Taehyung’s smug looks. He focuses again on Jimin, on how his clothes move with him, how his trousers make his ass look perfect, how his shirt reveals a hint of collarbone. When Jimin turns to him again and locks his gaze on him, Yoongi feels like his lungs have disappeared. The dancer was already stunning with his blindfold on, then with his sweaty, awkward face, but right now, he’s even more gorgeous. Yoongi has noticed the subtle make-up, too light to be overpowering on Jimin’s delicate features, just the perfect amount to make Yoongi feel hot all over.

    He’s still lost in thought when Jimin appears right in front of him, a grin stretching his lips. He grabs his half-full drink and takes a few sips before putting the glass down. He’s a bit breathless, which is not surprising, what with the frantic rock’n’roll he’s just danced with Jungkook.

    “Come dance with me,” he orders, taking Yoongi’s wrist and pulling him off of his stool.

“I told you I’m a shitty dancer,” he tries to protest, but Jimin looks at him with amused disdain.

    “Don’t care. You’re my birthday gift, remember?”

    The rapper stumbles to his feet, trying to keep his cool at being called a “birthday gift”. Jimin’s behaviour has changed; the awkward, shy attitude has disappeared. Yoongi wonders what else Jimin might ask him with this excuse.

    “Confident now, are we?” he teases as he’s made to follow Jimin to the dance floor.

    “The word you’re looking for is ‘drunk’,” Jimin chuckles. “Or tipsy, at least.”

    That makes Yoongi laugh, and he follows the dancer a bit more eagerly. If he’s a bit lucky, the alcohol will hinder Jimin’s moves and he’ll feel less stiff next to him. But right when they reach the middle of the floor, the band switches to a smooth, almost jazzy tune, and Yoongi understands no small dose of alcohol could ever throw Jimin off balance. The man is capable of blindfolded somersaults, for fuck’s sake, it’s not like two beers and half a piña colada are gonna have the slightest impact on him.

    Jimin turns to face him and places Yoongi’s hands on his already swaying hips, then ties his arms around Yoongi’s neck, and looks at him with his lower lip trapped between his teeth.

    “Dance with me, Yoongi.”

    Damn, Yoongi is screwed . He complies, trying to follow the rhythm of the bass player, trying to remember how to actually move his limbs. Jimin is so close to him, warm and impossibly sexy. He has opened his sleeves’ buttons, but didn’t bother to roll them up, letting them flow with his movements and subtly reveal his forearms, and a thin sheen of sweat makes him glow. His eyes seem so dark in the dim light of the room, dipping to Yoongi’s lips every now and then. The rapper swallows hard, not sure how he’s supposed to keep calm with such a man in his arms. He never thought the night would end up like that, but he’s hardly complaining.

    He’s on the verge of leaning in, ready to finally taste those lips, the hips moving against his having melted his stiffness away - threatening to wake a whole other kind of stiffness, if he’s being honest - , when a hand claps on his shoulder with a loud thump .

    “SUGA ! T’is you, yeah?” a voice exclaims, effectively stopping everything around Yoongi.

    Before he knows it, Jimin has tensed and leaped out of his arms, eyes blown wide in surprise. Yoongi turns toward the fucker who dared interrupt them and glowers at him, trying to ignore the whispers spreading around them. Shit . Shitshitshit. This is not good.

    “It really is you! Man, I’m a huge fan,” the guy continues, seemingly unaware of the anger rising inside Yoongi.

    The rapper takes a deep breath and reaches behind him to grip Jimin’s wrist as he sees the dancer try to escape, blush back in full force. He’s not sure what’s making Jimin flee, but he sure as hell won’t let that happen. He tries to keep as calm as he can, not wanting to make a scene.

    “Yeah, I’m Suga,” he grumbles, but cuts the man as he starts gushing again. “I’m glad you like my work, but right now, I’m not here on public business, so could you please leave me alone?”

    “Thought you were being assaulted by that faggot,” the guy laughs, “wanted to help you.”

    Yoongi feels Jimin tug at his hand, but instead of letting go, he pulls him back to his side. Oh, boy, you shouldn’t have said that , he thinks before his free hand grabs the dickhead’s collar and tugs to bring them face to face.

    “You shouldn’t call yourself a fan of mine if you’ve got something against faggots ,” he all but growls, low in his throat. “Now apologise to Jimin.”

    Jimin is squirming into his grip, but Yoongi’s not letting that slide. He’s never been shy about being gay and he’s not gonna start now, especially not when this cunt is ruining Jimin’s birthday night. The asshole looks at them both, still restrained by Yoongi’s hand on his collar. He looks a bit frightened.

    “I… I’m sorry,” he stutters. “Was joking. I swear. Didn’t mean…”

    “Say, ‘I’m sorry, Jimin’,” Yoongi orders, his voice cold as ice.

    “I’m sorry, Jimin.”

    “Now get out of my face.”

    He shoves the man back and tries to turn to Jimin again, but unfortunately, the commotion has attracted the security agent’s attention, and he finds himself facing a six feet tall gorilla.

    “We don’t like trouble here,” the man says slowly, “so you get the fuck outta here now.”

    “Wait, I-”

    “ Now .”

    Yoongi clenches his teeth and has no choice but to be ushered outside, where he’s left alone on the pavement, only wearing his t-shirt in the cold night air. Fuck . He really ought to control his temper.

    He’s not left to himself for long, though, as Jimin barrels through the door with both their jackets, rushing toward him.

    “Are you alright?” he asks, taking Yoongi’s face in his hands and looking him over with a concerned gaze.

    Yoongi smiles softly, all anger disappearing in the blink of an eye.

    “I’m good, Jimin, thanks,” he breathes, reaching for the dancer’s waist to pull him into a reassuring hug. “This is not the kind of place where I’d get beaten up for just a bit of trouble.”

    Jimin wriggles out of his embrace and glances away, hands in his pockets.

    “It’s my fault,” he mumbles. “I was being all clingy. I’m sorry.”

    Yoongi hates the self-deprecating tone of his voice. Damn it, he wants to take Jimin in his arms again, but he fears Jimin would dodge him.

    “Don’t apologise. It’s that fuckhead’s fault, not yours,” he states firmly, but Jimin avoids his eyes. “I didn’t mind you being clingy.”

    The dancer hands him his jacket without looking at him, and Yoongi shrugs the leather on with a frustrated sigh.

    “I should be the one apologising,” he continues. “I don’t get recognised all that often, so I’m not great at reacting to this kind of encounter.”

    At that, Jimin glances at him with a surprised look on his face and a tiny, tiny smile on his lips.

    “Not great?” he repeats. “You protected me and all. You even forced that guy to apologise to me. All I did was try to run away.”

    Yoongi takes a step toward him, biting back his grin.

    “I’m your birthday gift, remember? I’m not just gonna stand there when you’re being insulted.”

    A small chuckle escapes Jimin, and Yoongi really, really wants to kiss him now, but before he can, Taehyung and Jungkook come out of the pub, looking worried.

    “Are you okay?” Jungkook rushes to ask, grabbing Jimin’s shoulders. “We saw you just take your jackets and run without a word!”

    “And then some idiot tried to explain that you’d been thrown out,” Taehyung grumbles, half-interrogatively.

    “I’m sorry,” Yoongi sighs, pushing his hands into his pockets. “I kinda lost it when that shithead insulted Jimin.”

    Surprisingly, Taehyung starts laughing out loud and claps Yoongi’s shoulder.

    “Already protective, are we?” he smirks. “Didn’t take you long to be all whipped!”

    “Shut it, Tae,” Yoongi grumbles, feeling himself blush for the first time of the night. He doesn’t dare look at Jimin before speaking again, “what now? I’m sorry I ended this earlier than intended.”

    “I’m actually a bit tired,” Jimin yawns behind his hand. “It’s late, and I’ve been dancing since 9am, and I’ve gone through enough emotions for a month. Maybe we could call it a night?”

    It makes sense, but Yoongi still feels disappointed. This wasn’t how he hoped the night would end. Jungkook nods, still holding Jimin protectively.

    “Yeah, time for bed. You look like you’re gonna fall asleep in the middle of the street.”

    Taehyung is already calling a taxi, and Yoongi starts panicking. He’s supposed to crash at Tae’s place, it’s not like he won’t be seeing Jimin again, but he doesn’t want to just leave him like that, without a word.

    Jimin is quicker than him. He slips out of Jungkook’s hands and walks up to him, not quite close enough for Yoongi’s taste, but then he leans forward and kisses his jaw, whispering a few words in his ear.

    “Thanks for everything. You were the best birthday gift ever.”

    He hops back before Yoongi can react, smiles shyly and waves at him before disappearing in the waiting taxi.

oOo

    Jimin wakes up to his phone chiming insistently. He cracks one eye open and tries to move, only to groan at the pain. What the hell , he dimly thinks, before he understands and lets out an agonising moan. How did he even make such a noob mistake? Dancing for eight hours straight, then not fucking stretching for even a second before going out and drinking alcohol of all things? Lord, he’s so stupid, let him die already. He feels like he’s turned 85 rather than 25.

    “I’m an idiot,” he mumbles, rubbing his face.

    His arms are not the worst, but when he painstakingly gets up into a sitting position, his abs and thighs are already screaming at him. His phone beeps again, distracting him from his sore muscles. He grabs it where it lays on his bedside table, and sees a few messages coming from the same unknown number. Who the hell is spamming him, anyway? He opens the first message and immediately feels a blush warming his cheeks.

    Hi Jimin, it’s Yoongi. Tae gave me your number. Wanted to thank you for yesterday, had a really good time!

    The second one is from Yoongi too, as well as the others, so Jimin quickly saves the contact with a flutter in his chest. I've got Suga’s number! No, better than that, Yoongi’s number , he thinks with a stupid grin spreading on his face.

    Was wondering whether you’d like to have lunch with me? I was serious about working with you on a music video.

    Sorry, I’m really enthusiastic about this, but let me know if I’m being too insistent. I don’t wanna scare you off.

    Nor make you feel awkward.

    JK tells me to stop bothering you, he says you’re just as bad as him with mornings. Honestly, I’m bad too usually, but I couldn’t sleep much last night, so I was awake at seven.

    I was too busy thinking of you to sleep.

    Shit, that sounded soooo cheesy. I'm sorry.

    Okay, I need to stop rambling via texts. Please answer about lunch? We don’t have to talk about work. See you, Jimin.

    Too busy thinking of him to sleep?! Jimin needs a whole minute to calm his hammering heart down, on the verge of hyperventilation, but then remembers his pathetic state and looks at the time. Almost noon. Fuck . How will he ever be ready in time to go out to lunch with Yoongi with the body of an old man? What he truly needs right now is a long, excruciating but necessary warm up and stretching session, but he doesn’t have time for that. So he settles for the next best thing, a searing hot shower. When he gets out, feeling a tiny bit better, he shoots a text to Yoongi while trying to at least stretch his legs. He can’t meet with Yoongi walking like a fucking woodboard.

    Hey Yoongi, sorry I took so long! Just got out of bed ^w^ I’d love to have lunch with you, if it’s not too late. Are you still at Tae’s? I can come pick you up, or we can meet up wherever!

    He waits for an answer while trying to keep his muscles warm and slowly stretching them, hoping to drain some of the soreness away. He knows it won't do miracles - nothing will except time and effort - but it might still help with the stiffness. When his phone rings with an actual call rather than a text, Jimin scrambles to pick up, suddenly very flustered. He knows Yoongi can't see him, but still, it feels a bit intimate to answer the phone while only wearing his underwear.

    "Hello?" he greets, a little breathless.

    Calm down, you moron, he thinks to himself. It's just a phone call.

    "Hey, Jimin! I figured it would be easier to just call now that you're awake. How are you?"

    Yoongi’s voice is soft, softer than the previous day at least, like he's still a bit sleepy. It makes Jimin feel all fuzzy inside. He tries to keep his voice in check when he answers, still not quite believing he’s being asked out by Suga of all people. Well, not that Yoongi said anything about this lunch being a date, but… One can always hope. As shy as he is, Jimin’s not completely blind.

    "I’m fine," he finally chirps, trying to get out of his own head. "So, lunch?"

    "Considering you just got up, I was gonna suggest coffee?" Yoongi chuckles. "Tae just spent half an hour talking about Freddie's pancakes down his street. What do you think?"

    Jimin bites back his smile. Coffee and pancakes with Yoongi seem like a perfect Sunday morning. Nevermind that it's half past noon already.

    "Sounds great. Meet you there in twenty?"

    "Yeah, I'll be there. See you, then!"

    Yoongi hangs up, but Jimin keeps his phone in hand, smiling  stupidly at the screen. This looks an awful lot like a date. A date with Yoongi . Jimin lets out an ecstatic squeak before rushing - or trying to rush - to his closet. Twenty minutes is plenty enough to walk to Freddie's pancakes, so he takes his time choosing his outfit. It's a Sunday morning brunch-date-thing, so he should stay on the casual side, but he still wants to look nice. So he dons a good pair of light-wash skinny jeans, a simple black t-shirt with a slightly too wide neckline, and completes his look with a thin silver necklace and a warm zip-up hoodie. His hair is still damp from his shower, and even though he did take his make-up off before going to bed, a faint shadow remains at the root of his lashes. Jimin takes a good look at his reflection and nods, satisfied. He slips into his boots and checks he has everything he needs before leaving his flat, widely grinning despite the pain still slowing his steps.

    He arrives exactly seventeen minutes after having hung up with Yoongi, but the rapper is already there, leaning against the wall next to Freddie's front door, one foot propped back against the bricks. He’s so freaking handsome , gazing into the distance with his almost punk-ish look, hands loosely tucked in his pockets. The walk has helped Jimin relax a bit, and he doesn't feel like he's a hundred years old anymore, but the sight of Yoongi makes him forget he even has limbs in the first place anyway. Jimin all but floats to him.

    "Hi!"

    His voice is slightly more high-pitched than he'd have liked, but the look on Yoongi’s face makes him grin stupidly again and he forgets how to talk altogether. The rapper has a sweet smile on his lips, his eyes half-closed as if he'd just woken up from a fluffy dream. Jimin kinda wants to just walk right up to him and ask for cuddles, but he manages to stop himself, waving his hand instead.

    "Hey, Jimin. Looking good," Yoongi drawls.

    He looks like a cat, Jimin realises, a sleepy cat napping in the sunlight. His dark hair is a bit tousled, falling haphazardly before his eyes, but Yoongi doesn't seem to mind. He smiles, offers his hand to Jimin and pulls him inside the pancake place when the dancer grabs it.

    Jimin feels like his heart is beating in places it’s not supposed to, when Yoongi gallantly offers him a seat in one of the booths near the window, but his breathlessness turns into a bitten-back whine when he has to bend his knees to actually sit down. Yoongi quirks an eyebrow at him and Jimin feels his blush come back in a rush. He really didn’t mean to emit such a sound.

    “You alright?” Yoongi asks, half-concerned, half-amused.

    “Yeah,” Jimin breathes, avoiding his gaze. “I’m a bit sore from all the dancing I did yesterday. Your… presence… shocked me so much I completely forgot to stretch, and now I’m paying the price.”

    He blushes even more at his own words and hides his face behind his hands, memories of the previous night coming back. Oh, boy, no wonder alcohol is nicknamed liquid courage. Jimin hears Yoongi chuckle, then fingers softly grab his wrists and pull his hands away from his face. For all the smugness in Yoongi’s eyes, he notices the rapper’s cheeks are not quite as pale as they were before.

    “Shocked, really?” he smiles, his voice so low and soft Jimin feels like he’s gonna die.

    “Did I say that?” he squeaks, slipping his wrists out of Yoongi’s hands. “I, I - dammit, I’m acting like a teenage fangirl again. I’m sorry.”

    “I don’t mind,” Yoongi laughs. “Never had a teenage fangirl before. Not really my target audience.”

    Jimin chuckles at that. Suga’s lyrics are not quite what he imagines teenage girls might want to listen to, but then again, he’s a ballet dancer , so maybe he’s not really part of the target audience either. 

    “Either way, I’m sorry,” he manages to say without blushing more than strictly necessary. “I don’t want you to think I’m creepy or something.”

    Yoongi laughs out loud, surprising him.

    “You, creepy? Come on, Jimin, how could I think that? Look at you. I’m the one feeling a bit creepy, to be honest, having watched you dance yesterday night without you knowing. Thinking back on it, it does seem a bit weird.”

    “Are you actually trying to make me blush so hard I die?” Jimin whines, his teeth biting his silly grin back. “I… I admit I felt rather awkward yesterday. I never expected anyone to see that . Hell, even Kookie had never seen me do something like that, and we’ve been dancing together since we were kids.”

    Jimin decides he should shut up before he puts his second foot in his mouth, seeing as the first one has gone so deep it's half-digested already, but Yoongi doesn't seem weirded out or anything equally bad.

    A waiter interrupts their conversation for a moment, and when they've ordered plenty of coffee and pancakes, they fall into easy banter and Jimin slowly forgets his shyness. Their order soon arrives, and Jimin purses his lips at the wild amount of sugar and milk Yoongi puts into his coffee. The rapper chuckles at his disgusted face.

    "What's your problem? I've got a sweet tooth, sue me. Black coffee's too bitter."

    "I'm not judging you," Jimin giggles. "I can't stand the taste of sugary coffee. Bitter and sweet is a no-go for me."

    Yoongi laughs again and steals Jimin’s cup to take a sip, then grimaces.

    "Ew. No idea how you can drink that without flinching," he admits.

    Jimin just shrugs, not trusting his voice after seeing Yoongi do that. Some unhinged part of his brain wonders if he’d appreciate the taste of milky, sugary coffee if he tasted it directly on Yoongi’s lips. On his tongue. If this is not flirt - and tacky flirt, at that - he's not sure what is. Not that he's complaining, obviously.

    They're halfway through their meal when Yoongi brings it up again, after a few moments of quiet, companionable silence.

    "Jimin."

    "Mmh," the dancer hums, mouth full with pancakes.

    "I… can't get it out of my head. I want to see you dance again. I know I said I'd let you think about it and all, but… t'was part of the reason I hardly slept."

    Jimin miraculously doesn't choke on his pancakes and manages to wash his mouthful down with a few sips of his coffee, trying desperately to find something to say. At this point, he's not even scrambling for something coherent. He'd be happy if he got actual words out of his mouth rather than flustered gibberish.

    "I-I…"

    How eloquent, Park Jimin. Way to go, he inwardly facepalms. Yoongi smiles - not a smirk, really, it's not even smug, just a soft stretch of his lips.

    "Why are you so embarrassed about it? Your moves were beautiful. You should be proud of yourself."

    "You're making it worse," Jimin whines. "Do you even know what was going through my head while… shit, why am I even talking?"

    Did he just admit out loud to having had lewd thoughts while dancing? Lord, can he really be this stupid? This time, Yoongi’s grin turns a bit wolfish.

    "Probably something similar to what was going through mine as I watched."

    Jimin just stares, utterly speechless. Afternoon or not, it’s too early for that. Yoongi chuckles again.

    "Come on, own up to it. Don't tell me you weren't planning on doing something with that choreography someday. It was too good to stay a secret."

    Alright, time to try and save this mess. Jimin takes a deep breath, tries to look Yoongi in the face and fails, his thoughts all over the place.

    "I… actually never thought that far," he mumbles, feeling his face burn. "I've been dancing to your music ever since I discovered it, but I've never put that much thought into it until yesterday. What you saw was just the result of one afternoon of work, and it's probably not the best thing I could have come up with. Honestly, part of it was just me letting steam out after learning I'd spend my birthday on my own."

    "Letting steam out is an accurate way of putting it," Yoongi mutters, almost to himself, but not low enough that Jimin wouldn't hear.

    The dancer blushes again, and sighs softly.

    "In any case, I'm in no state to dance today, so I hope you're not in too much of a hurry," he says, disappointed with himself. He's sort of scared Yoongi might lose interest if he's not quick enough, but the rapper smiles reassuringly.

    "I'll try and be patient. I'll be in town for a while, since I've started working on my next album and won't be touring anytime soon."

    "Will you stay at Tae's?"

    Yoongi laughs at the suggestion and shakes his head, his eyes almost closed.

    "Nah, it was just convenient for the weekend. I've got a flat of my own, but it's stuffed to the brim with music equipment, so it's more of a workplace than an actual home."

    Jimin’s eyes must sparkle at the thought, because Yoongi bites his lower lip with an amused chuckle.

    "I'd offer you to come visit, but I'm not sure how a bunch of boards and instruments and laptops would be interesting. Honestly, it's mostly a fucking mess of tangled cables. It's not that exciting."

    "It's not the equipment that interests me," Jimin protests. "If you get to see me dance, it's only fair that you show me how you work. Especially if you want me to dance for you ."

    "True," Yoongi smirks. "Does that mean you’re willing to work with me?"

    Jimin smiles, a real, eager smile this time.

    “Like I’d let such an opportunity slide,” he chuckles. “I’d hate myself for the rest of eternity if I refused. Since I’m doomed to feel forever awkward about how we met anyway, at least I’ll get something out of it.”

    Yoongi laughs and gently pats Jimin’s hand on the table, eyes glinting.

    “You’ll forget about that, I’m sure.”

    “With Taehyung as a friend? Not in a million years,” Jimin falsely whines, unable to stop his grin from widening.

    Yoongi’s hand is still on his, but it has stopped patting to just stroke, barely, the movement so tiny Jimin almost can’t feel it. It’s soft and warm and exhilarating, and Jimin forgets to breathe entirely when Yoongi’s fingertips start playing with the thin chain on his wrist. The silence is thickening between them, and Jimin needs something to happen, anything to prevent him from just losing it and kissing Yoongi over the table. Lord almighty , he dimly thinks as the rapper distractedly licks at a drop of coffee on the corner of his lips.

    Jimin is literally a second away from rising and leaning over the table, completely mesmerised by Yoongi’s eyes and barely-there smirk, when the loud ringing tone of his phone tears him out of his trance. He almost jumps out of his skin with a squeak and fumbles for the device, groaning when he sees Hobi’s name on the screen. In a second, Jimin remembers he had planned on texting him and didn’t .

    “I-I have to take this, I’m sorry,” he rushes. “Hello? Hobi, I-I-”

    “Jiminie!” greets the joyful voice of his friend. “How are you? I’m back from my little week-end, was wondering if you wanted to meet up somewhere for coffee or something? I’m sorry about last night, really, but we can go out now if you want!”

    Jimin has no chance to cut through Hobi’s babbling and he stares, wide eyed, at Yoongi’s perplexed face.

    “I- that is- Hobi, I’m not actually alone?” he manages to say before flushing bright red. “Not in that sense, oh my god!” he adds when Yoongi quirks an eyebrow at him, smile growing playful.

    Shit. Shitshitshit, how did he get himself in this situation? Hobi laughs in his ear, unaware of it all.

    “You with Jungkook after all?”

    “Ah, um, not exactly,” Jimin tries to explain breathlessly, while Yoongi gets on a mission to make him blush even more, his gaze back to steaming hot, slowly biting his lips. “I- dammit, Yoongi, please stop-”

    “Yoongi?” Hobi asks curiously. “Ooh, Jiminie, what are you even doing on the phone with me while this Yoongi is clearly doing things to you that shouldn’t be mentioned during a phone call with your friend?”

    Dear lord, let him die already. Yoongi winks at him, tongue wetting his lips.

    “That’s not- he’s making faces at me, what are you even- stop laughing, Hobi! Jungkook and Taehyung actually surprised me last night,” he finally manages to get out. “They arranged for me to meet Suga. I mean, Yoongi. That’s his name. I’m with him right now. We’re talking about work.”

    It’s a lie, it’s such a lie, because Yoongi’s eye-fucking him with all his might and they’re so not talking about work, and then Yoongi is almost crumbling with laughter. When he wipes a tear from his eyes, Jimin feels a giggle bubble up his chest. Honestly, the whole ordeal is so ridiculous even he has to laugh. Then Hoseok’s voice annihilates his eardrum and Jimin has to tear the phone away from his face.

    “Whaaaaat?! You’ve met SUGA??? For real?!”

    “Yeah, actually, he’s a friend of Tae’s…”

    “Holy shit, Jimin! Don’t let me waste your time with him! Tell him I said hi, see you tomorrow!”

    Before Jimin can say a word, Hoseok hangs up, and he’s left speechless. What the fuck-

    “Hobi says hi,” he eventually says, when his breath is back and his heart rate has gone down to a non-lethal speed.

    Yoongi is trying to regain his composure, too, but smiles brightly.

    “Hi Hobi! Wait, are you by chance talking about Jung Hoseok?”

    Jimin just gapes at him.

    “How the hell-”

    “I think I met him a few times during my and Tae’s uni days. Nice guy, always smiling, greaaat breakdancer?”

    “That’s Hobi,” Jimin confirms, eyes bulging. “Holy shit, am I the only one to not have met you before? In a perfectly mundane way?”

    Yoongi laughs and straightens up on his seat, eyes still crinkling with glee.

    “To be fair, I hadn’t met Jungkook before either. But I have to admit, our meeting was the most interesting.”

    Jimin hides his eyes behind his palm, but he can’t stop smiling. Even though their intimate moment has been kinda shattered, he’s still on cloud nine. Laughing with Yoongi is just as great as flirting with him. It almost feels better, more natural, and Jimin dares to look at him again.

    “Is being with you always so intense?” he asks, ready to giggle again.

    “I guess you’ll have to discover that for yourself,” Yoongi answers, his signature smirk back on his lips.

oOo

    They end up spending the rest of the afternoon together, slowly walking back to Yoongi’s flat while chatting excitedly all the way. While he shows Jimin around his place, the rapper feels more and more conscious of his presence, of his body, of the way he moves and stands and laughs at his dry humour, but not once can he bring himself to actually kiss him. He wants to, of course he wants to, and he’s pretty sure Jimin’s waiting for that too, but something holds him back. He’s not sure what exactly, but whenever he absent-mindedly reaches for Jimin’s waist or hand, he aborts his motion and goes back to their conversation about his music and tours.

    It frustrates him more and more, but he hides it, definitely not wanting Jimin to feel like there’s a problem. It’s just… he’s not ready. It somehow feels wrong to lean in and capture those lips with his, because they’ve only just met, and it was admittedly not the most usual meeting ever, and they’re in this weird fan-artist relationship that makes everything seem unbalanced. Yoongi wants to kiss Jimin, yeah, but he doesn’t want to be the kind of perverted singer who acts on their fan’s admiration, and he doesn’t want to make Jimin feel like a groupie or something equally gross. Yoongi wants to kiss Jimin, and he wants Jimin to know he’s not just Suga, and that Yoongi’s not kissing him just because his dance was seductive. Yoongi wants to kiss Jimin, and he wants Jimin to kiss him for the same reasons.

    Yoongi wants to kiss Jimin, because Jimin is kind and cute and funny and oh, shit, I think I like him . The realisation makes him trail off in the middle of a sentence, and Jimin looks at him curiously, but Yoongi can’t remember for the life of him what he was saying.

    “I… uh… sorry, I kinda lost track of what I was talking about,” he hesitates, earning a chuckle from Jimin.

    “Your next album’s post-apocalyptic vibe,” he supplies helpfully, apparently oblivious to Yoongi’s internal turmoil. “But I’ve been making you talk for hours now, I’d understand if you wanted to take a break.”

    Yoongi grins and glances out the window.

    “Shit, it’s dark already? Time sure flies with you,” he sighs, still smiling. “I hope you’re not bored to death yet.”

    “If you were boring, I’d have stopped asking questions,” Jimin teases, “but you’re not. At all. I could listen to you all night.”

    Once more, Yoongi has to fight the urge to just grab the dancer’s face between his palms and snog him senseless. He chuckles instead and shoves his hands in his pockets to prevent himself from doing something stupid.

    “Not sure I’ll be able to talk all night. I kinda need to sleep at some point.”

    “You’re no fun,” Jimin pouts, but smiles immediately after. “I have to sleep too. I’ve got classes to teach tomorrow and I might have to do it from a wheelchair if I don’t get rest.”

    Yoongi can’t stop his laughter at the thought. Jimin has complained about his soreness all day, but he’s just as graceful as the night before. The idea that the dancer might be a bit of a drama queen is so endearing Yoongi feels his smile threaten to tear his face in two.

    “I’ve left some of my stuff at Tae’s,” he says, “and I probably should go get it before he’s in bed with Jungkook. Walk with me?”

    Jimin grins and nods, and then they’re off, and Yoongi’s heart is frantically beating against his ribcage. Kiss him, kiss him, kiss him , his insides sing the whole way to Tae’s place, and then to Jimin’s place, because Yoongi has offered to walk him home, because he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him just yet.

    And now they’re standing on the threshold of Jimin’s building, and there are only two options, really : either kiss him or don’t, and Yoongi doesn’t.

    “Well, Jimin, I had one hell of a nice day,” he says, trying to not sound mental. “Can’t wait to work with you.”

    “I’ll send my schedule to you so you can tell me when it’s best for us to meet,” the dancer offers with a smile.

    He sounds a bit breathless, a bit off, and Yoongi knows it’s his fault, but the more he waits, the more terrified he is.

    “My schedule might be easier to arrange than yours. I’ll text you, yeah?”

    “Yeah.”

    “Good night, Jimin. See you soon,” Yoongi concludes, taking a step back with a wave of his hand.

    Jimin waves back, smiles a tight smile and disappears inside the building, and Yoongi lets out a disgruntled sigh. I should have kissed him, dammit, what is wrong with me? But then again, Jimin didn’t make a move either, so maybe it was the right decision? Yoongi tugs his bag higher on his shoulder and grumbles unintelligible curses to himself. It was the stupidest decision in the whole entire history of stupid decisions.

    “I should have kissed him,” he mutters, wanting to punch himself in the face.

    Yoongi goes about his week trying to not facepalm at his own stupidity each time he texts or gets a text from Jimin. A few days in, it feels a bit less dramatic to not have kissed him yet, because Jimin informs him he’ll be available all Friday afternoon and Yoongi swears to himself and any god eavesdropping at the moment that he will definitely kiss Jimin then. Maybe not right away, but… he’ll find an occasion.

    They keep on texting, simple, innocent things that don’t quite hide the fact that they both really really want to talk to each other, even if it’s as mundane as a “good morning” or a “good night”. Yoongi can’t wait for Friday to arrive, thrilled about seeing Jimin and actually working with him. He’s so damn giddy about the whole thing he doesn’t manage to act all grumpy when Taehyung laughs at him over coffee.

    “Ah, Yoongi, that’s what’s called love at first sight,” Tae purrs when the rapper smiles at his phone, chiming with Jimin’s twentieth text of the day.

    “Shut it, Tae,” Yoongi tries to grumble, but there’s no bite to his words whatsoever. “Damn, I’m really screwed, ain’t I?”

    “You are, but in a good way. Can’t blame you, really, I’ve been through the same thing with Kookie. Although I did have to work quite a bit more than you to make him fall for me.”

    Yoongi does facepalm at that.

    “You’ve been stalking the guy for what, two whole years? I’ve only just met Jimin. It’s not the same.”

    “Yeah, I guess I’m rather in Jimin’s shoes. Not that he stalked you. He’s not as crazy as me.”

    “That’s not difficult, Tae. You’re insane,” Yoongi deadpans, earning an airy laugh from Taehyung.

    “I’m insanely perfect .”

    They chuckle together at the exchange they’ve had so many times. Yoongi wants Friday to come already.

    And then it does, and somehow, Yoongi doesn’t feel nervous at all. He arrives at Bangtan Dance Academy at precisely 3pm, and is greeted by a bouncing man in grey sweats.

    “Yoongi! Remember me?” Hobi happily asks with a huge smile on his face.

    “Course I do. Still as energetic, I take it?” Yoongi purposefully drawls to highlight the contrast between Hoseok and him.

    The breakdancer giggles and pats his shoulder.

    “I suppose you’re here for Jimin? He’s been talking about you all week. Need me to show you around?”

    “I think I remember where his room is, thanks. Nice to see you, Hobi, catch up later?”

    “Gladly. I’ve got to get back to work, too. Have fun with Jiminie!”

    Yoongi drops by Jungkook’s room to wave at him through the open door, and Tae's boyfriend gives him the thumbs up without stopping what he's showing to his pupils. When he finally reaches Jimin’s door, at the end of the corridor, Yoongi admits to himself he's a tiny bit nervous. But he's more excited than nervous, so he knocks on the door. There's music inside, a soft piano tune, and soon hurried footsteps cover the delicate sound.

    Then the door opens and Jimin appears, eyes wide.

    "You're already here," he  exclaims, "is it time? Come in, I'll be right with you. Keep at it, guys, is this what you call splits?" He adds to his gaping students in a much firmer tone.

    Pained moans answer him and Yoongi tries not to chuckle as he kicks his shoes off and treads into the room, careful to not disturb anyone. He joins Jimin at the front of the room, near the mirror, and takes a few seconds to admire the ballet teacher. He's wearing black leggings that make his legs look like they go on for miles, and a long white tank underneath a bright red zip-up hoodie. It's nothing fancy, but Yoongi finds him gorgeous anyway.

    "Glad you could make it," Jimin whispers, unaware of Yoongi’s shameless ogling.

    "Couldn't wait a second more," the rapper admits with a low chuckle. "What they're doing looks like torture, though. Hope you're not planning on trying to make me do that."

    Jimin giggles brightly, then glares at his pupils.

    "Come on, two more minutes. Straighten your spines. Lower your shoulders. Breathe, dammit, what are you trying to achieve without lungs?"

    Yoongi finds the difference between shy-blushing-out of work-Jimin and tyrannic-dance-prof-Jimin never-endingly amusing. Who knew he had it in him to have this much authority? Yoongi watches as Jimin spends the next minutes correcting some of his pupils, and then finally declares the lesson over.

    "Alright, time's up. Good job, everyone. Don't rush, be gentle to your bodies! And drink a lot! See you next week!"

    A chorus of goodbyes echoes in the room, and a few curious glances land on Yoongi, but thankfully no one dares come talk to him. He distractedly wonders whether  they're too scared of Jimin to try.

    "Sorry about that," the dancer grins when everyone has left. "I'm all yours now."

    Yoongi can't help but smile broadly at that, not quite managing his usual smirk. He’s pretty sure Jimin meant it to be an innuendo.

    "Nice," he teases. "So how do we proceed? I've actually never worked with dancers. I've had people in my music videos before, but mostly for background acting."

    Jimin shrugs, still smiling. 

    "I'm not sure either, I've never worked with a rapper before," he chuckles. "Depends on what you want. If you just need me to dance on my own, I suppose you have to check that my routine suits your requirements and change it if needed. Then I'll just have to practice. If you want us to interact while I dance, it's mostly the same, but we have to practice together."

    Yoongi slowly nods, a bit impressed at how quickly they fell into this efficient, professional exchange.

    "I'm not sure yet. I’ve brought my laptop, is there any way I can plug it into your sound system or something? So  we can watch the original video for reference? Then I think I'll need to see your full choreography, in order to get a global idea."

    "Okay," Jimin breathes, and opens the closet, where there is a nice spot waiting. "The wi-fi password is bangtan underscore academy, all lowercase and no spaces. Help yourself while I warm up for a bit."

    Yoongi does as he's told, but he glances at Jimin through the mirror while the computer starts. He feels his throat go dry when Jimin discards his sweater and throws it into a corner of the room, revealing his shoulders and arms. Then the dancer starts moving, simple exercises to prepare his muscles for the coming effort, and just seeing that makes Yoongi smile. Jimin is so precise and graceful  and in perfect control of his every move- it's beautiful to watch.

    The room is rather warm, so Yoongi ends up taking off his jacket and draping it on the back of the chair near the closet. A glance at his reflection tells him his arms look all noodly and pale next to Jimin’s lean but taut biceps and forearms. 

    "Okay, music's ready," he informs Jimin.

    "Play it. I'll be ready soon, and I know the video like the back of my hand anyway."

    Yoongi chuckles and launches the video, even though he pretty much knows it by heart too, and spends the next six minutes alternating between watching himself on screen and watching Jimin. The dancer is only mapping out his routine, not going through the full movements yet, probably just getting back into the rhythm and level of focus he needs. Yoongi stares, trying to decipher Jimin’s thought process, to understand the link between his moves and the song. He’s more and more impressed at how accurate the whole thing is, how spot on Jimin is. Even this half-assed version shows off the right emotions.

    When the song ends, Jimin does a ridiculous little jump to mimic his future, real somersault, and ends up sprawled on the floor giggling.

    “Why are you laughing?” Yoongi asks, trying not to gape too much at how cute the sound escaping Jimin’s throat is.

    “I was trying to guess how it looked like to your profane eyes,” the dancer explains, a wide smile on his face. “I have the real moves in mind, but for someone who’s not used to it, it must seem a bit ridiculous. This kind of preparation run is not meant to be seen by the audience, y’know?”

    Yoongi chuckles and gets back on his feet, offering Jimin a hand to help him up. The dancer looks at his hand, pretends he’s going to take it for a second, then smirks and just jumps up.

    “Show-off,” the rapper laughs. “But no, it wasn’t ridiculous. Believe me, I do have your moves in mind, too.”

    Jimin faintly blushes at that, but he keeps his smirk on and stretches his back.

    “Good, it’ll be easier if I don’t have to do several full-on performances in a row. My thighs were sore until wednesday, can you believe it?’

    Yoongi can, but he’s mostly trying hard not to think about another way to make Jimin’s thighs sore. Those perfect thighs, so tightly clad in Jimin’s leggings he can see the outline of his muscles. Thank the gods for his long tank top, otherwise Yoongi would have a hard time not looking just a bit higher than his thighs. Get your mind out of the gutter, dammit , he scolds himself when he realises he’s been silent for too long.

    “Right,” he clears his throat, “I think I’ve got a good overview of the whole thing. Care to watch that video with me? I don’t just want you to dance because it’s pretty, I want your ideas, too. I want this to be an actual collaboration, not just me ordering you around to please my aesthetic whims.”

    Jimin does blush at that, and sits next to Yoongi on the floor, the laptop facing them.

    “Wow, this is-” he tries, before biting his lower lip and grinning shyly, back to his easily flustered self. “This is nice to hear. I would have danced for you even for the sake of just being pretty, but… yeah, I’m honored, I think. Thanks, Yoongi. For your trust,” he ends up in a whisper.

    The rapper lightly shoves him, shoulder against shoulder, then launches the video again before he does something stupid like hug him and forget about work altogether.

    “The feeling’s mutual, Jimin. Now let’s get to it, yeah?”

oOo

    Jimin soon forgets his shyness when they really dig into their work, exchanging ideas, showing each other moves, talking excitedly about possible after effects on the video. They’ve decided that they should interact during the song, Jimin’s dancing melting into Yoongi’s rough moves.

    When they finally take a break, Jimin all but crumbles with laughter when Yoongi tries - and utterly fails - to imitate one of his most difficult spins.

    “I don’t think you’re ready for that,” he giggles as Yoongi stays sprawled on the floor, breathless with hilarity.

    “I wanted to try!” he protests, “it seems so effortless when you do it!”

    “Back to work, Suga , don’t make me go all tyrannic like with my students,” Jimin chuckles when he pulls Yoongi back to his feet.

    “Cheeky,” the rapper smiles.

    Jimin pulls out his tongue at him, and giggles.

    “Let’s try the full thing,” he suggests. “It’s not gonna be perfect yet, but we’ll get a better idea than by  just repeating random bits and pieces.”

    Yoongi nods, and Jimin plays the music once more, preparing himself. The beat soon kicks in, and he hears the rapper whisper his verses to get a sense of the rhythm. It goes rather smoothly for a first try, since they’ve been practicing individual moves for the past hours, and Jimin almost doesn’t blush each time he brushes against Yoongi.

    The rapper has caught on pretty quickly, seeming to instinctively understand how to adapt his stance to Jimin’s presence. They lock gazes sometimes, and Jimin is so focused he doesn’t fully register the burn in Yoongi’s eyes. The end of the song approaches, he’s breathless and exhilarated. Spin, jump, high-kick, then Jimin feels Yoongi slide behind him. The rhythm drops, and suddenly his back is flushed against Yoongi’s chest, and Yoongi’s hand slips around his waist to grip his shirt and pull it up, his lips whispering the lyrics against the nape of his neck. Jimin shivers, manages to keep moving and escapes Yoongi’s hands. He sees the rapper’s smirk, and even though he knows it’s part of the act, it hits him square in the gut. The last seconds pass in a blur, until he uses Yoongi’s thigh as leverage for his somersault and lands on the last beat.

    Jimin collapses on his back, closes his eyes and tries to regain control of his heart and lungs. They’re dancing on their own, a freaking polka or something.

    “Are you alright, Jimin?” Yoongi’s voice reaches him, wavering.

    “Yeah,” he breathes. “This routine is fucking intense, give me a second.”

    Yoongi laughs, just as breathless as he is, and Jimin hears him drop on the floor next to him. Then a hand brushes his hair back, out of his eyes, and he hums, feeling a blush creep up his neck again. The touch is soft, warm, and it feels so intimate, Jimin can’t help but grin.

    “Wanna try again?” he whispers, not quite trusting his voice to speak out loud.

    “Yeah. Wanna try blindfolded?”

    Jimin swallows hard and nods, opening his eyes to glance at Yoongi. He knows he’s not quite ready for the blindfold yet, their moves aren’t smooth enough, but he doesn’t care. The rapper gets on his feet, extends a hand, and this time Jimin grabs it and lets himself be pulled to his feet.

    The music starts. Jimin stays very still, Yoongi standing right behind him during the calm intro. He slowly ties the silky fabric around Jimin’s head, covering his eyes, and lets his hands slide along Jimin’s shoulder blades before stepping back. Jimin tries not to gasp for air. Everything feels different. He remembers how he felt last time, when he didn’t know he was being watched, and tries to get as carefree and focused as he was, but Yoongi’s presence is overwhelming.

    This time, their performance is not as good as their first try, but they don’t quite pay attention to it. It turns into a game, taking their concentration away as they clumsily bump into each other and chuckle while still trying to keep going. Jimin’s heart is racing, knowing and not knowing when Yoongi’s next touch will come, unable to anticipate anything. He hears the rappers whispered lyrics getting hoarse, jumbled up, and every sound seems louder now that he can’t see. Spin, jump, high-kick, he tries to keep his breath under control, but then Yoongi is right there against him with his hand around his waist, and Jimin just lets his head roll back on Yoongi’s shoulder, and exhales a shuddering sigh.

    Yoongi’s hand is burning when it grips his tank top, slowly rising it, but then instead of letting go, the rapper slips his hand underneath the fabric, splaying his fingers on Jimin’s ribs.

    “Jimin,” he rasps against his neck, lips almost glued to his skin, and the dancer leans into his touch, barely biting back a moan.

    “Yeah,” he breathes, not trying to move anymore, not even noticing that the music has stopped.

    Yoongi’s hand slowly, slowly strokes his skin, fingertips barely grazing his abdomen, sliding down to contour his hip bone, playing with his leggings’ waistband. Jimin reaches behind him, dives his own fingers into Yoongi’s hair, tugs as gently as he’s capable of.

    “Jimin, I-” Yoongi murmurs, his voice sounding strained, his hands tightening on the dancer’s hips. “Please tell me you want this. I’m going mad.”

    Jimin can feel Yoongi’s arousal against his backside. He slowly, deliberately rolls his hips, earning a gasp.

    “Yeah, I want this,” he answers in a rush. “You. I want you.”

    Yoongi’s breath stutters against his ear, and finally, his lips attach themselves to his neck, teeth softly nipping at the skin. The rappers hands start moving again, the left one coming up to wrap around Jimin’s waist while the other one dips lower, stroking down his thigh, then slipping on the inner side and coming back up slowly.

    Jimin tightens his grip on Yoongi’s hair and he finally lets out the moan that has been wanting to get out for so long now, low, barely audible but still reaching Yoongi’s ears. The rapper’s left hand leaves Jimin’s waist and slides all the way up to his throat, holding it with a tiny bit of pressure.

    “Holy fuck, Yoongi,” Jimin all but whines.

    He’s at Yoongi’s mercy, still blindfolded and now held still with just one hand. It’s nothing much, but never has anything felt so hot. Jimin shudders when Yoongi’s right hand reaches between his legs, lightly stroking him through his leggings. He’s going to melt right here and now, or combust, he’s not sure yet, and then Yoongi slowly tugs him backwards and he has to follow, the fingers on his throat twitching when he swallows hard.

    He has no idea where he stands anymore, having lost his orientation along the way, and suddenly finds himself pressed between a wall and Yoongi. He braces himself against the wood, tries to find his breath, loses his balance when Yoongi’s teeth scrape his skin at the junction between his neck and shoulder.

    “Let me face you,” he begs, “please. Yoongi.”

    The rapper leaves him just enough space to spin on the spot before he’s flushed against him again, and Jimin feels the ghost of Yoongi’s breath fanning on his lips. He can’t see, hell, he can’t know whether Yoongi is planning on fucking finally kissing him soon, he can’t imagine the expression on his face either. He dies inside when he wets his own lips and hears Yoongi choke on his breath.

    “Jimin,” Yoongi whispers, voice hoarse, and then his lips are finally on Jimin’s, and the dancer moans into the kiss, letting Yoongi’s tongue slide against his.

    Jimin ties his arms around Yoongi’s neck, dives his fingers into his hair, holds their faces together until he can’t breathe anymore and comes gasping for air. He kinda wants to see Yoongi, to see if he’s just as lost as himself, but the sensory deprivation is too good. It makes him hear Yoongi’s ragged breaths and feel his fingers on his skin tenfold.

    It also makes him hear the footsteps in the corridor way louder than expected, and he jumps, tightening his grip on Yoongi’s hair.

    “Shit, I thought Kookie and Hobi were gone already,” he whispers as the rapper stills, his hands halfway into his pants.

    “Do you think they might come in here?” Yoongi pants, clearly not too keen on stopping there.

    “Not without knocking, but…” Jimin hesitates, torn between arousal and embarrassment. “Do you think we could continue… this… somewhere else?”

    Yoongi takes his hands back, and Jimin feels him move and arrange his clothes back in a decent way. Then fingers tug at his blindfold and he blinks against the light, discovering Yoongi’s breathless but smiling face.

    “Gladly.”

oOo

    They somehow manage to get back to Jimin’s flat in a matter of minutes - leaving everything in place in the studio, not even thinking of tidying up before all but running out - and they know Jungkook and Hoseok were in the corridor looking stunned when they left the room and the academy without glancing back for even a second. Yoongi doesn’t give a flying fuck about Jungkook’s chuckle and Hobi’s catcall, because right now he’s too busy snogging Jimin senseless to think about anyone else.

    Damn, how good it feels to finally kiss him like he wanted to do all week, and somehow it makes the wait worth it. Jimin is breathless and writhing underneath him on the mattress, most of his clothes discarded along the way between his front door and his bedroom. Yoongi’s body is still a bit more covered, his t-shirt forgotten somewhere and his open jeans hanging low on his thighs. He rocks his hips against Jimin’s, smirks at the sinful whine muffled into their kiss. His hands are all over Jimin, from his ribs to his hips to his thighs, those fucking thighs, they make him mad as they tense, all taut muscle and smooth skin. He can’t wait any longer.

    “I want to fuck you,” Yoongi rasps against Jimin’s lips.

    The dancer’s eyes shoot open, blown wide, and a broken moan is all he answers when Yoongi cants his hips forward again. Jimin fumbles with Yoongi’s already half-discarded jeans, trying to drag his underwear down at the same time, faltering when the rapper slides down his body to kiss and lick at his abdomen.

    “Shit, yes, please, Yoongi, oh god”, he babbles as Yoongi gets rid of the last piece of clothing separating them.

    “Lube? Condom?” Yoongi asks, too far gone for complete sentences.

    Jimin doesn’t seem to mind.

    “Bedside table,” he pants, blindly reaching to the side and miraculously managing to open the drawer, but losing control of his limbs when Yoongi slides his tongue right next to his cock. “Nnnh, Yoongi, stop teasing!” he moans loudly, grabbing the rapper’s hair again.

    Yoongi chuckles breathlessly and waits for Jimin to hand him the lube before he complies, taking Jimin in his mouth this time. The dancer lets out a new filthy sound, almost a mewl, and grips Yoongi’s hair so tight his knuckles must have gone white. Yoongi takes his time, letting his tongue map out Jimin’s length until he begs.

    “Holy mother of fuck, get on with it, please, please,” he whines, his voice growing higher and hoarser.

    Yoongi lifts his head off of him and chuckles, licking his lips.

    “Bossy, are we now?” he smirks, but doesn’t leave Jimin enough time to answer before his first finger finds his entrance and starts playing.

    All Jimin manages is a broken moan, and Yoongi has to still for a second, trying to get himself back under control. It’s been a long time since he’s been this hard, and seeing Jimin sprawled back on his bed for him to take is a bit much. He can’t believe Tae’s shenanigans has actually gotten him laid - not that he’s just here for the sex, as mind-blowing as it already is - and honestly, he just gives up thinking entirely when his second finger makes Jimin clench his hand in his hair again.

    “Be patient,” he tries to order, “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

    “You’re not… hurting me. Give me more, fuck, Yoongi, I won’t break!”

    Yoongi nips at his thigh as retaliation and curls his fingers inside, effectively shutting Jimin up - well, at least stopping him from saying intelligible words. Soon, he gets a third finger inside, and Jimin’s almost sobbing when he finally gets them out and fumbles with the condom.

    He kneels between Jimin’s parted legs, tugs his hips up to align himself and finally, finally sinks into him, holding his breath. Christ , it’s so tight and hot and so, so fucking good , he’s seeing stars already. Then Jimin’s godsent thighs lock around his waist and Yoongi’s last coherent thought is that he can die happy now.

    He leans forward, bracing his hands on each side of Jimin’s head, and tries to find his gaze before he starts to move, slowly at first, clenching his jaw at the sensations. Jimin looks at him through his lashes, eyes half-closed, mouth hanging open as they move together. For a while, silence takes over, and Yoongi manages a smile as he bends to kiss Jimin feverishly.

    “You feel so good,” he whispers against his lips, and the dancer just hums and smiles and waves his hips a bit more, and Yoongi has to close his eyes and just breathe for a second.

    It’s so intense, slow and intimate, Yoongi almost chokes on his own breath, but Jimin clearly has no patience whatsoever and starts rocking faster. It tears a chuckle from Yoongi’s lips, but he follows the rhythm and thrusts into Jimin harder, unsteadily, losing control as tension coils inside him.

    “Yoon… gi…” Jimin moans after a particularly rough thrust, arching his back, hands tight enough on Yoongi’s ribs to leave bruises on his pale skin.

    His broken voice only spurs Yoongi on and he keeps moving relentlessly, hitting Jimin spot on each time, earning more and more wrecked and loud moans.

    “Yoongi, I’m- I’m close, oh fuck, please-”

    The rapper grits his teeth, forbidding himself to come before Jimin, and puts his weight on one of his hands to snake the other between their bodies. It only takes a few strokes once he’s taken hold of Jimin for the dancer to tense, spine arched, eyes screwed shut, and Yoongi follows a few thrusts later, burying himself as deep as possible inside Jimin.

    He stays still for a moment, not trusting himself to move without just collapsing. Holy fuck , he dimly thinks, his mind blank. Underneath him, Jimin is struggling to catch his breath, one arm thrown across his face while his other hand has loosely gripped Yoongi’s wrist.

    And Yoongi finds himself smiling broadly at the beautiful sight, not quite believing what just happened, until Jimin’s arm slides off his face and he offers him a shy grin.

    “Hey,” Jimin whispers, visibly still in a daze.

    Yoongi softly laughs and slowly sits back on his heels, pulling out as delicately as he can, untangling himself from Jimin’s thighs, stupidly thinking he’d like to wear them as a belt every single day.

    “Where’s your bathroom?” he asks, feeling a bit silly to have just gone right from the door to the bed without taking a single look at the flat, but Jimin just vaguely points to his right.

    “Second door down the corridor. Not sure I can walk just yet.”

    “Don’t move,” Yoongi chuckles as he bends to kiss Jimin’s temple. “I’ll be right back.”

    Yoongi quickly finds a washcloth inside one of the bathroom’s cupboards, wets it underneath warm water and exchanges a satisfied grin with his reflection before he heads back to Jimin’s bedroom, where the dancer has taken his order seriously and not moved an inch.

    Yoongi tenderly cleans him up, whispering apologies when Jimin winces at the sensitive spots, kissing his skin along the way. Now that his mind is out of sex-mode, he takes a few seconds to trace Jimin’s tattoo with his finger, finally getting to see it fully. Serendipity , says the ink along his ribs. Yoongi distractedly thinks it’s a nice way of describing the last week.

    “You like it?” Jimin asks, his voice low and a tiny bit slurry, as Yoongi follows the word again and again with his fingertips.

    “Yeah,” he breathes. “Suits you.”

    Suits us, he thinks.

oOo

    The new version of Suga’s music video, featuring ballet dancer Park Jimin, gets an uproar of ecstatic reviews. They’ve shot it in the same empty warehouse as the original, just a few weeks after their first practice, with the help of their Bangtan Academy friends. Yoongi has done most of the editing himself, as usual, and his producer has insisted that he had to include Jimin in his future album as well.

    Jimin’s not opposed. As he curls against Yoongi’s warm body, the rapper’s arms securely tied around him, he distractedly thinks of all the things they could do together. In the end, Tae might taunt him for the rest of his days, but Jimin doesn’t care. Yoongi was right: of their first meeting, no awkwardness remains.