show a little more

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/32103976.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: M/M
Fandom: | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Relationship: Jeon Jungkook/Park Jimin, Jeon Jungkook/Original Male Character(s)
Character: Bangtan Boys | BTS Ensemble, Choi Yeonjun, Lee Taemin, Kim Jongin
| Kai, Original Male Character(s), Kim Yugyeom
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Burlesque Club, Dancer Park Jimin (BTS), Dancer
Jeon Jungkook, Fluff, Romance, Smut, Mutual Pining, A smidge of
Angst if you squint, Shy Jeon Jungkook, Jeon Jungkook is a
Sweetheart, Park Jimin is a Ray of Sunshine (BTS), A teeny bit of
internalized homophobia, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Acceptance,
Slight Crossdressing??, Jikook said fuck gender norms in this one, Park
Jimin Wears Makeup (BTS), Jeon Jungkook Wears Makeup, Past foster
care, shitty parents, Sexual exploration, Drunk Sex, Loss of Virginity,
Rimming, Spanking, Switching, Top Park Jimin (BTS), Top Jeon
Jungkook, Power Bottom Park Jimin (BTS), Power Bottom Jeon
Jungkook, my beta said to call this A Tale of Two Power Bottoms but I
refused, Coming Out, Jeon Jungkook is a Panicked Gay, Humor, how
did i forget those tags, also you'll never look at pringles the same way
again after this fic i'm sorry
Stats: Published: 2021-06-23 Chapters: 4/4 Words: 65926

show a little more

by Charmander

Summary

When small-town boy, Jeon Jungkook, decides to move to the city to pursue his dreams, he
finds himself in the middle of an eccentric little Burlesque Lounge, mystified by the
flamboyant, lassez-faire dancers, risque performances, and, particularly, a dancer named
Park Jimin.

With a whole new world opened up to him, Jungkook becomes determined to land a spot on
the stage, exploring all the parts of himself he was too afraid to face before, and falling in
love for the first time.

Notes

Cece, this one's for you. Thank you for cheering me on throughout writing it (especially
during the massive delay between chapters 3 and 4 lol). I hope the love I put into this fic
shows through. It's all for you, for being such a wonderful friend to me since the day we
met. I hope this fic has brought you as many smiles as you've brought me. ♡
Other things to note before starting this fic is that since burlesque is fairly dominated by
female performers, the Padlet is filled with examples of feminine burlesque
outfits/performances, rather than male performers, because it was just way easier to find
pics that way. But it's just there to spark some ideas for you of how burlesque dancers
dress. There's a lot in this fic about blurring the lines between masculine and feminine for
artistic expression and there's light talk of gender within the fic as well, but it's relatively
brief. I still wanted to mention that for the sake of anyone who struggles with gender
identity (like myself), just in case.

With that being said, here is the Padlet and the Playlist.

I hope you all enjoy the fic!!!

Please do NOT repost my work elsewhere without permission!

 Welcome to Burlesque
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

 ♪♡♪

Splat. A rag slaps atop the hood of a white SUV, soap suds scattering out around it. Jungkook
flinches away, eyes closed in hopes of avoiding the sting of the soap for once. He can feel it in his
hair though, and he peeks up through dark locks at his friend.

“What are you doing, Yugs?” he asks, and Yugyeom shrugs as he leans on the car.

“Taking a break.”

Jungkook straightens up, setting his own rag down. “Okay, but we only have maybe ten more
minutes before the customer comes back.”

“You know they’re always late.” Yugyeom sets an energy drink down in front of Jungkook before
hopping onto the hood beside it. He swats Jungkook’s hand away as he tries to shove him off the
car.

“You’re gonna get us fired,” Jungkook grumbles, but he makes no further effort to push Yugyeom
off, grabbing the drink instead. They pop their cans open and tap them together, and Yugyeom
grins.

“I’d be doing us a favor,” he says, then takes a drink. “Don’t act like you want to stay here
suddenly.”

“I don’t.”

Jungkook leans against the car and stares out at their little town, the terraced fields in the distance,
the empty roads. It’s beautiful here. Jungkook wishes that it didn’t feel like such a death trap to
him, like he’s staring out at the only thing he’ll ever see in his life. He’ll never move past this
town. He’s so afraid of dying in this fucking place.

“But I don’t really wanna get fired either.” He reaches into his pocket and fishes out a single coin.
“At least I get to find people’s loose change from the manual wash, so at the end of the day I can
buy 1/16th of a slurpee on my grueling 30 minute walk home. It’s perfect. Who could complain
about a workday like that?”

Yugyeom snorts, then gives Jungkook’s shoulder a playful shove. “Hey. If you save up enough of
those coins maybe you can afford to take that sketchy bus home once every few weeks.”

All Jungkook can manage is a halfhearted laugh around the lip of his drink. “Yeah, only when I
develop a death wish. Pretty sure that thing isn’t even approved by the town. I think that guy just
drives people around as a side job.” He sighs. “Worst part is, that really is the only good part of
this job. There has to be something better for me out there.”

There’s a deep breath from Yugyeom as he turns, sitting back to back with Jungkook as they drink.
“Yeah. You gonna go out there and find it?”

“Maybe I will.”

Yugyeom pushes back against him with a chuckle. “I dare you.”

“Fine.”

Jungkook takes another drink, his eyes on the road as a car slows at the only major stoplight in
town. It idles there, bass from the music inside thumping. Jungkook thinks he knows the song, his
foot tapping along with it until the car zooms out of sight.

“I’m moving to Seoul.”

There’s a pause, and then Yugyeom turns around, scooting across the hood to sit side by side with
him now. He stares over at Jungkook, hands tight around his drink. Serious, compared to his usual
demeanor.

“Are you for real right now?”

Jungkook nods and chugs the last of his drink. He crunches up the can and tosses it toward the
garbage just outside the wash, missing by an inch. “Yep. Once I get my check, I’m quitting and
I’m moving. I’m going to the city and… I don’t know. I’ll become a singer or an actor or
something.”

Yugyeom grins down at his drink. “I’m sure you will.”

“I will!”

“I believe you.”

Jungkook frowns over at his friend, unsure if he’s poking fun or actually encouraging him. Just in
case, he reaches over and knocks him off the car, nearly sending him toppling to the ground. He
catches himself, but his drink hits the ground and mixes with the suds.

“Dammit, Kook!” Yugyeom says, and then he grabs the soapy rag and throws it at Jungkook, who
ducks for cover before firing back.

They break into a water fight, splashing at each other, soap flying dangerously through the air.
Jungkook is soaked by the time they stop, breathless, glaring at each other across the hood.
They’re braced for the battle to continue.

“Well, if you really do go,” Yugyeom says, “you better not forget about me when you get famous.
I wanna bum off you when you do.”

Jungkook snorts at him, eyes rolling. “You wish. I’ll warn the doorman at my future condo to call
the police if you show up.”

Yugyeom almost shoots back, but then something catches his eyes and they go wide. “Oh, shit.
The customers. The customers, Kook, we gotta finish the bumpers.”

“Fuck.” Jungkook whips around to see the car owners heading straight for them, and then he dives
for the bucket, hands dipping into the water deep enough to soak his sleeves.

God, he hates this job.

♪♡♪
Jungkook shakes. From nerves, excitement—from everything. He’s jittery as he steps off the train,
wide eyes scanning across the towering buildings of Seoul. He doesn’t have a plan. He doesn’t
know where he’s going, except the motel he mapped out on his way here.

Something about the absolute terror of not knowing what’s to come excites him. It’s better than
waking up and knowing it will be just another day staring out of an empty car wash, counting
down the seconds until he can go home and just… be there. There was nothing for him back home.
He doesn’t know what the city holds for him, but it can’t be any worse.

It feels promising already, though a bit intimidating.

He’s never heard so many horns honking at once, the screeching of tires, so many chattering
voices as people pass by him with their phones pressed to their ears. Jungkook clutches his bags
close as he walks, wide eyes darting around the streets. He’s surprised he doesn’t sprain his neck,
tilting his head back so far to stare up at the tops of buildings.

Somewhere along the way, he loses tracks of how many people he bumps into, how many times he
stumbles or nearly crashes into a pole, or walks in front of a speeding car. Miraculously, he makes
it to the motel in one piece. And it’s…

Something.

There are worse places he could stay, and it’s just for a bit, until he gets a job and gets on his feet.

He drops his bags onto the end of the bed and looks around, sighing at the peeled paint directly
above a crooked headboard. He’s sure with a little time, he can make this place feel like home too.

Might take a little more work than expected.

He sighs again. It feels like all he’s done today is sigh. Jungkook checks another business off his
list as he walks. No backup dancers or singers needed. No lounge singers needed. Hell, even the
people at the strip joint he passed by gave him the stink eye. He thinks of himself as at least
attractive enough to not be snubbed without a word.

Jungkook leans against a lamppost, letting his forehead rest on the cold metal. The sun has long
left him behind, coaxing him back to the motel. Only the seediest places are still open. Then again,
he’s living in a motel that barely looks like it should be allowed to run, so maybe working in some
shady club is only fitting.

He sips at the last dregs of his coffee, biting at the straw as he stares at his list. Not a single place
wanted him. The applications he put in at the few places willing to hear him out didn’t look
thrilled, like they knew without even looking at his resume that he doesn’t have the experience. He
can’t be a dance instructor at some studio when his only experience is “I danced in a musical
once.”

Big dreams and too much passion for his own good are great. Teaching himself to sing and dance
is great. But he should have considered the fact that lack of “real” experience would bite him in the
ass.

He tosses his now empty cup into a nearby trashcan, just about to duck back into the crowd of
pedestrians and hopefully disappear to hide his shame when a sound catches his attention. The
sound of laughter—clear, ringing, tinkling laughter.
His eyes snap up to a little building he had somehow missed before. He doesn’t know how anyone
could miss it with its bright lights, flashing red and yellow over an arched entrance. He steps a little
closer, following a small group toward the front door, his eyes drifting over the sign: The Boys of
Burlesque.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jungkook thinks he’s heard that word before—burlesque—but
it conjures no image to mind until he looks up. Looks to where the laugh came from. Alongside the
building, leaning on the railing of a fire escape, is a man with blue hair, adorned in feathers and
gems, boots so high Jungkook wonders how it’s possible to even lace something like that up.

And he swears…

He swears the guy is wearing a corset.

The man with him wears a similar outfit, but the feathered collar is detached, held in his hands as
he laughs. He’s blonde, glitter seeming to cover every inch of him as he turns to let the other man
try to reattach the collar to the rest of the costume. As he turns, the blonde’s eyes land on
Jungkook, and Jungkook can’t make himself look away.

The blonde smiles at him, tilting his head toward the front door of the club, then sending him a
wink. Jungkook’s stomach flips, and he feels himself carried toward the door before he realizes
what he’s doing.

He watches the blonde until he and the other man turn to go back inside the building, the blue-
haired man glancing down to notice Jungkook as well. He looks a bit more dubious, probably
confused as to why Jungkook can’t stop staring like a total creep.

It isn’t until the door shuts and the blonde is gone that Jungkook can look away and head in as
well. He squeezes past a couple in the doorway, apologizing as he bumps into them, and keeps his
head ducked low in the dark, narrow hall. There’s no way anyone here would ever recognize him,
he doesn’t know anyone in the city, but every part of his brain screams at him that he’s not
supposed to be in a place like this.

Just the way those guys on the fire escape were dressed and the obviously gay couple at the door is
enough to tell him what this place is. If he were to be seen like this back home, he would never be
able to show his face in public again.

This place wouldn’t even be allowed to exist in his town.

Saying he never wanted to see something like this would be a lie, though.

He stops at a little booth, the man behind the glass staring wearily at him as he looks around the
room.

Dim lighting shows just enough of the tables to see mostly men seated there, a few women
throughout, one particularly large group in a corner. The bar bustles with customers scrambling to
get their drinks as the curtains on the stage begin to rise.

A tapping on the glass drags Jungkook’s attention away from the stage to the man, holding out his
hand.

“You gotta pay to watch, kid,” he says, then retracts his hand with a frown. “Are you even old
enough to be in here?”

“Yeah, I—” Jungkook reaches for his wallet, hesitating as the rattling of cymbals fills the room. He
looks to the stage again, eyes going a little wide at the sight he sees.

The men from before, adorned in their feathers and sparkles, dancing. He’s never seen anyone
move the way they do, never seen men so confidently wear that much makeup, biting at painted
lips as their bodies roll in sync to the beat of the song. He catches sight of the blonde from before,
just as another dancer sits on a platform on the stage, the blonde dropping down in front of him,
pushing the dancer’s knees apart, the others doing the same in their pairs. The blonde’s head whips
around to face the crowd, the audience chuckling when he and the others place a finger over their
lips, as if asking them to keep a secret.

“What is this?” Jungkook asks, handing his ID over. “A strip club or something?”

The guy scoffs. “Strip club? You ever been in a strip club before?” He hands the ID back and holds
his hand out again. “You still gotta pay if you wanna watch, though.”

Jungkook stares down at his wallet and the little wad of cash he has left, then looks to the dancers
again. Something compels him to stay and watch, and he swears it’s not the way they rip off their
corsets, he swears.

With his face as red as the stage lights, he slaps a bill into the man’s hand, who gives him a forced
smile. “Enjoy the show.”

He hopes it’s worth going broke for as he heads toward a stool at the bar. A group jostles him as
they rush back to their table, but he manages to catch himself and sit down just in time to catch the
last bit of the performance.

His eyes find the blonde again. It’s not hard to find him. He draws all attention to him with that
smile on his face, the sparkle of mischief in his eyes as he winks at a table of men near the stage.
Someone whistles.

Jungkook follows him as he catches the blue-haired dancer he saw outside, bending him over in
front of himself, hand sliding up the other man’s back. He smiles, eyes hooded, as he leans over to
rest his head on the other dancer’s lower back. The faux demure attitude makes the room spin
around Jungkook, like this dancer is doing the most innocent thing, just lying down for a nap or
something.

It’s anything but, in Jungkook’s eyes. These guys move like they’re trying to seduce each other,
then pull back at the last second. It almost makes him shiver as he watches the blonde switch
partners, the other man’s arm wrapped around his waist as he’s lowered to the floor. He looks
pliant, blissful, eyes on the crowd as he’s sprawled across the stage as if it’s a bed and they’re all
about to witness something they’re not meant to see.

And they pull away, and it’s right back to playing coy, as if they hadn’t just touched each other like
lovers. Back to teasing the audience directly, flaunting themselves like they know they’re stunning.
And they are. Captivating. Entertaining. Jungkook is completely obsessed with every move they
make, every wink or smirk they send indirectly his way.

It reminds him of the theater back in high school, but with a lot less clothes and far more
scandalous. Still, it makes him miss the stage, especially seeing how much fun this audience seems
to have. He’s never seen something so risque also be so funny, so playful. He didn’t even know it
was possible.

A server passes by him, grabbing drinks from the bar. Jungkook almost speaks up, almost asks
what this place is exactly, but they’re gone too soon. They don’t even seem to notice him.
“What’ll you have?” the bartender asks, leaning in to hear him, purple hair sticking out from
beneath a bowler hat.

Jungkook can’t help but smile. It feels like everyone here dresses up like vaudevillians.

“Uh.” God, he’s never ordered anything from a bar before. He just drinks beer at home with
Yugyeom, and now he’s completely drawing a blank on any drink names he’s heard before except
one. “Um. Lemon drop?”

The bartender gives him a hesitant look before making the drink. Jungkook hardly pays attention to
him as the next number starts, and he feels his eyes go wide at the view.

This dancer, brown hair, the most perfectly sculpted nose, and the friendliest eyes Jungkook’s ever
seen, is dressed in a rather scant police uniform, baton in hand. He doesn’t know what to expect,
but it’s certainly not a near-acrobatic performance. This guy twists himself into positions Jungkook
can only dream of, practically folding himself in half, doing the splits so far it makes Jungkook
squeeze his legs shut at the thought of even trying.

He picks up his drink as it slides to him, captivated as the others dancers join as backup this time.
Even the sour sting of his drink can’t distract him from the way the blonde snatches the baton from
the other man, playfully spinning to smack his ass and pretending to be coy about it. Jungkook
feels himself grinning.

There’s something about this, even if he doesn’t quite get it yet, that has him captivated. It’s just
different, bold. There seem to be no rules here, an incoherency in the acts that strangely works, like
you’re not meant to know what’s coming next.

He looks back at the bartender, trying to flag him down, but he doesn’t notice. No one does. What
does it take to ask someone about a job around here? Everyone he tries to talk to just passes by, like
he’s invisible.

Maybe it’s a stupid idea, but this is what Jungkook thinks he would like to do. A job that’s fun,
creative. This might be even better than being stuck in a recording booth all day or memorizing
lines for a play. This is…

This feels like a kind of freedom he’s never had before.

The next act, he assumes, is a solo act, but his eyes fall on the brown-haired dancer as he
approaches the bar, shouting something to the bartender. With a pack of cigarettes in hand, he
points toward a back exit, and heads out.

Jungkook’s first instinct is to run after him and see if he might give him answers. He’s fairly
certain, judging by the ‘employees only’ sign over the back hallway door, that he’s not meant to be
back there. But he’s desperate. There’s something special about this place. He can’t just pass this
up.

He chugs down the rest of his drink, face scrunching up at the sourness again, and leaves a little
cash under the glass before he darts for the door. For once, feeling invisible to everyone is a perk,
allowing him to slip outside unnoticed.

The fire escape door sits propped open and Jungkook leans around to peek out, hesitant to actually
step outside and face the dancer. He’s here now so he might as well go for it. What’s the worst that
could happen?

Jungkook carefully opens the door and steps out. He clears his throat, making the dancer startle
slightly, the smoke from his cigarette clogging his lungs and making him choke. He coughs, smoke
puffing out around him in a cloud as he pats his chest.

“Fuck. Who are you?” he asks between guttural hacks, his eyes watering slightly.

“Sorry,” Jungkook says. “I just— I saw you come out here and I wanted to ask—”

“Oh, fuck,” the dancer says, eyes rolling. He takes another drag of his cigarette. “I just got rid of
my last stalker. Could you at least give me a month before you start stalking me too?”

“I’m— I’m not a stalker,” Jungkook says, hands up like he’s about to be arrested. And maybe he
is. Wouldn’t that be a story for back home? A few days into living in the city and he gets his ass
tossed in jail. How ironic when the dancer is dressed like a police officer right now, too. “I just—”

“You literally just snuck into an employees only area to talk to me.” The dancer seems rather calm
for someone who thinks he’s being stalked. “That’s what stalkers do.”

Jungkook stammers over his words, already backing up toward the door again. “No it’s just... no
one inside would talk to me so—”

“That sounds like a you problem, kiddo.”

“I mean the employees wouldn’t talk to me—”

“That’s probably because they’re doing their jobs.” The dancer turns to face him entirely, leaning
back against the railing, cigarette between his lips as he smirks at Jungkook. “What are you doing
out here?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath, leaning back against the door. His nerves settle as the dancer grins.
He’s not sure if this guy still thinks he might be a stalker or if he’s been fucking with him the
whole time, but either way he thinks he has limited time before he gets sick of entertaining
Jungkook. “I just wanted to ask about getting a job.”

The dancer blinks. “You don’t beat around the bush. What’s your name?”

“Jungkook.”

“Jungkook.” The dancer watches him for a moment, cigarette between his lips. He offers it to
Jungkook, who just shakes his head, leaning away from the smoke as it’s blown toward him.
“Hoseok. Why do you want a job here?”

Jungkook gives Hoseok a nervous smile. He’s not doing a great job of selling himself for a job on
the stage, but he’s come this far. “Because I like it here. It’s a cool place. I— I’ve never seen a
place like this before.”

Hoseok’s lips twitch into another crooked smirk. “You haven’t been around much, have you?” he
asks with a chuckle and another puff on the cigarette. “Fine. Talk to Namjoon.”

“Namjoon,” Jungkook nods, determined. “Is that the owner?”

“That’s the bartender. Tall, hot, purple hair.”

“Why would I need to talk to the bartender?”

Hoseok shrugs, bemused. He’s definitely losing patience. “Because maybe he needs someone to
help him serve tables.”
Jungkook feels his heart sink, his lips forming a thoughtful pout. “I don’t wanna serve tables. I
wanna perform.”

The laugh that leaves Hoseok feels like a slap to his face.

“Kid, trust me, you’re not cut out for this stage,” Hoseok says, glancing down at his cigarette as it
dwindles to a stump. “You said you needed a job, right? Just talk to Namjoon. Take what you can
get. You don’t just get to waltz in here and get a spot on the stage. You earn it.”

Jungkook sighs, lip between his teeth as he glances out at the street. Cars zoom by, inside he can
hear the band starting up again.

Take what you can get.

At this rate, maybe he should. He came here with nothing. He still has nothing. At least bartending
is something to keep him from ending up on the street.

“I—”

The door slams against his back, shoving him forward as someone inside grumbles, “What the
fuck?”

Jungkook scurries away from the door, moving beside Hoseok as the door swings open to reveal
another dancer. The blonde one from before. His eyes land on Hoseok, then on his cigarette, and
he sighs.

“I knew you’d be out here,” he says as he strides forward, no longer in the police uniform from the
previous performance. He snatches the cigarette from Hoseok and tosses it over the railing. “I
don’t know how you dance with those lungs, for Christ’s sake. Come on, you need to be ready to
go right after my number.”

“Breathe, Jimin. You know I’m never late.”

The second dancer, Jimin, lifts an expectant brow at Hoseok. He points him inside, mouth opening
to retort, and then his eyes fall on Jungkook. “Who’s this?” he asks, jabbing his thumb at
Jungkook.

“Just a fan,” Hoseok says as he heads inside.

“What— No— I wanted to work with you guys—” Jungkook starts but Hoseok is already through
the door and Jimin seems less than interested.

“Let’s go.” Hoseok stops, points at Jungkook, and says, “Namjoon. Talk to Namjoon,” and then
he’s gone.

Jimin stares after him, shaking his head. His eyes drift to Jungkook again and he crosses his arms.

Jungkook is fairly certain that’s a glare on his face, but he’s a little distracted by the choker of
pearls around his neck, more dangling below, partially hidden under his clothes. Satiny gloves
cover his hands as he taps his fingers against his own arm. He wonders what else hides under the
long black jacket he wears.

Jimin lifts a brow at him now.

“What are you staring at?”

“You.” Jungkook’s eyes pop wide at that word, blushing from the tips of his toes to the roots of his
hair. “I mean, you were great. In that last number.”

A subtle smile crosses Jimin’s lips. “I’m great in every number,” he says, and then he snaps his
fingers as best he can in gloves, gesturing for Jungkook to turn to the door. “Now, go. Patrons
aren’t allowed back here. Go, go. Hurry it up.”

Jungkook just nods, shuffling back inside as Jimin follows. The door slams shut, drowning out the
city and leaving nothing but the band and the cheers of the crowd. He feels a hand on his back
shove him forward, back toward the main floor. Just as he’s about to leave the cramped hallway,
Jimin pulls him back.

“Wait.”

He spins Jungkook around so they face each other, the hall giving them almost no room to stand
apart. He can see every speck of glitter on Jimin’s face like this. His attention lingers on the jewels
placed carefully beneath Jimin’s eyes.

“What’s your name?”

“Jungkook.”

Jimin nods, then glances out at the crowd. His tongue darts out over his red-painted lips, pursing
them together, and then he curses like he just realized that could mess up his makeup. “Okay, you
said you wanted to work here, right?” he asks. When Jungkook doesn’t answer right away—
definitely not because he’s distracted taking in the details of Jimin’s face—he snaps his fingers.
“Right?”

Jungkook nods.

“First, you need to be more on your toes than this,” he gestures at Jungkook from head to toe, “if
you really wanna work here. Second, mention my name—Park Jimin—when you talk to Namjoon.
He’ll be more likely to give you a chance that way.”

A stupidly large grin splits across Jungkook’s face, but Jimin pays no attention. Instead, he checks
over his outfit, securing a pin into his sleeve as he mumbles something about terrible costume
budgets. He glances up at Jungkook, who wishes he could look away before Jimin notices him
staring. He’s just a little too entrancing for anyone’s good, though.

Jimin gives him an unamused frown, his lips curling slightly as if in disgust. “I said go,” he snaps,
but it sounds more like disbelief than actual annoyance. Jungkook thinks he even sees a little smile
when he snaps out of his trance, Jimin shoving him back out toward the crowd.

“S-Sorry. Sorry,” Jungkook stammers. He stumbles out of the hallway, slamming right into another
customer who seems too drunk to really notice. When he looks back at Jimin, he’s definitely
smiling this time. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Jimin says, then wiggles his fingers in a little wave before crossing his arms
again. “Goodbye, Jungkook. Enjoy the rest of the show.”

Jungkook just gives him an awkward nod, walking backward toward the bar until he slams into a
table. His face flushes red again as Jimin laughs, and then he spins around. As beautiful as Jimin is,
he can’t face him as the glasses on the table all clatter and fall over, his hands scrambling to catch
them. Thank god no one is still sitting at this one.
When he looks back again, Jimin is gone, retreating to the dressing room, he assumes. His eyes
trail to the bar, his lip running between his teeth. Bartending may not be his dream, but it’s a step
forward.

And there can’t be any downside to seeing Jimin dance every night until he manages to get up on
that stage too.

He takes a deep breath and heads for the bar again, trying to keep his chin up until Namjoon
notices him.

“Back for more?” he asks as he slides along the bar and stops in front of Jungkook. He props his
chin on his hands and smiles at him, but it seems forced, tired. He must work hard—at least, that’s
what Jungkook tells himself to justify his icy demeanor.

“I talked to Jimin earlier about being a dancer,” Jungkook calls over the music—just the band
playing for now, buying time for the next dance—and Namjoon laughs. He hopes the dim lighting
hides his blush. “How do I do,” he points at the stage, “that?”

Again, Namjoon just laughs at him, sliding a drink to one of the servers, who pays no attention, too
busy flirting with a customer to notice. Namjoon gives him a nudge, then another one, and finally
he spins around with a giggle and whisks the drink away… to the wrong table, at first.

“You don’t,” Namjoon says, finally taking pause to lean on the counter and really look at
Jungkook. “You don’t strike me as the type.”

Jungkook huffs. “I danced in high school. I was in drama club. I am the type.”

Namjoon crosses his arms with a sigh, as if it takes every ounce of patience he has left to talk to
Jungkook.

“Kid,” he says, and Jungkook really wishes everyone would stop calling him that, “just wait until
the next number. When you see that one, I think you’ll get why I say you can’t pull it off.”

He wants to argue, but Namjoon walks away too soon, and the music quiets down. Jungkook turns
toward the stage, plopping dejectedly onto the stool. The dancers don’t want him, the bartender
doesn’t want him, he’s living in a motel. No leads on jobs so far—none that he wants, anyway—
and money that can only last so long.

He moved to the city just to end up working at another fucking car wash. It wasn’t supposed to be
like this.

Maybe this was a mistake.

Jungkook is just about to leave when the curtains rise again, blue light flooding the stage, a single
spotlight beaming down on a lonely looking Jimin. He leans on a piano, gloved fingers playing
idly with the keys. He looks bored, cheek squished against the palm of his other hand as the tinny
sounds of music from the 40s begins playing.

As he stands, pearls glisten along his chest, dangling low beneath his half-closed jacket. Jungkook
leans forward, hands braced against his knees, eyes fixated on Jimin. He looks prim and proper, the
way he’s dressed. Quiet and repressed, head down.

Jungkook heart nearly leaps out of his chest as the music picks up, a crash of cymbals and
trumpets, Jimin’s foot stomping down on the piano bench before it goes quiet. The next burst of
sound has him taking his jacket off. The lights turn red. He doesn’t look bored anymore. He’s
grinning, wicked, mischievous.

Jungkook chokes on his tongue as he watches the jacket tossed away, music flooding his ears now,
the sight of Jimin, half-naked as he climbs on top of the piano. He’s wild in his movements,
completely untethered, leg kicked into the air before he twists around, kneeling, leaning forward,
ass in the air as he winks at the crowd.

If the first number Jungkook saw wasn’t clue enough to how wild these shows can get, this
certainly is. There’s no denying the suggestion behind Jimin’s actions when he sits upright,
sticking his middle finger up at the audience and then biting the tip. He pulls his glove off with his
teeth, stretching it between his mouth and hand as it slips out. And then his other hand grabs it, his
brow quirking up at someone near the stage, and runs up and down the length of the glove.

Stroking it in time with the music.

All the while he’s grinning, like this is the most fun he’s had in this life. And as arousing as the
whole act is, Jungkook feels himself smiling along with him as well.

Past the pearls, when Jungkook can finally tear his eyes off the curves of Jimin’s body as he
dances, he notices the tassels. On his nipples. And he laughs. It’s so extreme, so unnecessary, but
that’s what he loves about it. Everything about this is ridiculous and he can tell that Jimin knows.

He grips the edge of the stool, feet propped against it as he leans so far forward he’s surprised it
doesn’t tip over. He must look like a kid right now, wide-eyed and awestruck, unable to look away
from Jimin and the light sheen of sweat on his chest, a droplet chasing after his hand as he runs it
down his stomach. Lower, lower, lower until his fingers tease at the waist of his skin-tight shorts.

Jungkook is bewitched. In love. With the performance, of course. Maybe a little bit with Jimin, too.
He thinks the whole room is in love with Jimin and his energy, his playfulness, his pretend coy
demeanor as he covers himself like he doesn’t want to be seen, only to turn around and shake his
ass at the crowd.

With every giggle from the audience or a gasp near the bar, Jimin only seems more energized, like
he feeds on scandalizing everyone who watches him. Somewhere in the background, Jungkook can
hear Namjoon complaining about the server leaving drinks at the bar, but he hardly comprehends
anything except Jimin’s ending pose, sprawled out on the piano once again after taking over the
whole stage.

He lies on his back, legs spread-eagled, head hanging over the edge of the piano to smirk out at the
crowd. His hair fans out around him, the lights dancing off his glitter and sweat, his tongue
sticking out to swipe over his lips. And then the lights shut off, and Jungkook’s cheeks ache from
smiling. His chest feels light, his heart seeming to bounce along with the music, too fast, too heavy.

Somewhere in his head rattle the words from Hoseok and Namjoon, that he can’t do something like
that. Maybe they’re right. He doesn’t have the charisma Jimin has, doesn’t have the confidence, the
sex appeal. That doesn’t mean he can’t learn, and Jungkook has never felt so drawn to an art form
before.

Dance. Theater. Music. Comedy. Expression. It’s all here, neatly wrapped up with one, big,
flamboyant bow.

And this place. It’s filled with people like him. He’s not alone like he was back in his hometown.
He can sit here and feel comfortable for once, no fears that someone is going to look at him and see
right through him, see what he doesn’t want them to see.
There’s nothing to be afraid of here. If they’re willing to accept and laugh with what Jimin just did,
they can be willing to accept him too.

Jungkook hops off of the stool, turning to ask Namjoon for one last chance. He’ll beg for a job here
if he has to, even if it’s at the bar and not on stage. He can work his way up. He just doesn’t want
to leave.

Instead of finding himself face to face with Namjoon, he finds a tray of drinks and a very frazzled
Namjoon trying to take the orders of three very drunk girls Jungkook can only assume are there for
a bachelorette party, judging by the “bride-to-be” sash around one of them. As Namjoon leans in to
hear one of the girls, Jungkook grabs the tray of drinks.

He vaguely recalls hearing Namjoon mention which table it was for, begging his barback to just
run out onto the floor and serve it real quick. But even the barback is flooded now, everyone
scrambling to the bar to get their drinks during the intermission.

Jungkook tucks his shirt in, trying to look at least a bit more professional, and pushes his hair
behind his ears. With a glance at Namjoon, he grabs the tray, spins on his heel, and heads for the
table. He’s waited tables in the past. It can’t be all that different here.

As the music starts up again, he risks a glance at the stage before apologizing to the table for the
wait. Jimin isn’t performing right now. It’s some other guy with pink hair and a few backup
dancers. He misses hearing the name as he darts around the room, taking peoples’ empty glasses,
asking them if there’s anything else they need. He has an armload of dirty glasses and a mental list
of orders by the time he gets back to the bar and a frowning Namjoon.

“I need two Mudslides, a Cosmo, and a whole bunch of vodka shots with coke chasers.” He glances
back at the table and recounts. “Six of those. Plus, another guy actually asked to just have a glass of
coke and to put the vodka inside that.”

“What are you doing?” Namjoon asks, and Jungkook turns back to him with the most confident
smile he can muster.

“Helping,” he says, and Namjoon sighs. His smile fades. “Listen, I’m a good worker. Give me a
chance. If I can’t do the job a thousand times better than that dude who keeps flirting with
everyone, you don’t have to pay me and you never have to see me again.”

Namjoon twists his mouth off to one side as he thinks, glancing around at the tables, then to the
door as more people pour in. “Fine,” he says, then turns to start mixing the drinks. “But you make
one mistake and you’re out.”

“You can count on me,” Jungkook says as Namjoon sets the drinks out.

Gnawing on his lip, Jungkook looks toward the stage again, tray in hand once more. He can do
this. He knows he can. It’s the first step toward getting up there. One of these days, he’ll prove to
everyone that he belongs up there as much as he feels he does.

His eyes drift to one corner of the room, as if drawn to him. Jimin, standing near the stage, hidden
partially in shadow as he talks and chuckles with another dancer. He smiles, like he’s proud, as he
watches the current dancer on stage, until he seems to feel Jungkook’s eyes on him. His gaze snaps
over to him, and Jungkook nearly trips over his own foot.

He’ll have to mind where he’s looking while he works.

They’ll never let him up on stage if he can’t even walk straight.

And lord knows he can’t do that with those eyes on him.

Jungkook’s feet ache by the end of the night. Maybe working at a mostly dead car wash and sitting
on his ass, bullshitting with Yugyeom, has him out of shape more than he realized.

He sets a tray of empty glasses down on the bar, triumphant as Namjoon turns to him. “I need you
to—”

“Wipe down the tables and chairs? I did.” Jungkook leans on the bar with a smirk. “These are the
last of the dishes. I swept the floors, wiped down the glass at the payment booth, and took out the
garbage.”

Namjoon’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, his eyes darting around the room. “Alright,” he
says, and he seems almost impressed and annoyed at the same time. He sighs. “Alright, fine.
You’ve got the job.”

He turns away from Jungkook, popping the cash drawer out and counting out a wad of cash.

“Here,” he says, slapping it onto the counter in front of Jungkook. “Your cut of the tips for
tonight.”

“Who the hell is this?”

Jungkook scoots down the bar, away from the voice of the newcomer, his eyes wide. It’s a pair—a
shorter man with minty hair and a curious frown on his lips as he regards Jungkook, and a taller
man with dark hair and a hint of mischief in every twinkle of his eyes.

“This is…” Namjoon pauses, gesturing at Jungkook, and that’s when Jungkook realizes he never
introduced himself.

“Jungkook.” He holds his hand out to the mint-haired man, who slowly takes hold of it.

“Yoongi,” he says. “Why are you working in my establishment when I definitely didn’t hire you?”

Namjoon clears his throat. “Jiho was fucking around again so I sent him home and Jungkook
stepped in. He really, really wanted a job. And he’s good.” He pauses, almost like he hates having
to say that. Jungkook supposes he did sort of elbow his way into this. “He’s really good.”

Yoongi and the other man glance at each other, the taller one shrugging slightly. He mutters under
his breath, “Jiho was kind of a lazy prick.”

With a nudge to the other man’s ribs, Yoongi looks to Jungkook again. “Alright. If you’re as good
as Namjoon says, then fine. This is Seokjin. He’s gonna try to convince you he’s in charge, but this
is my business.”

Seokjin mocks offense, hand pressed over his heart. “How many years, Yoongi? How many years,
and still you won’t accept that I am the shadow owner of this place.” He chuckles, then snatches
Jungkook’s hand midair to shake it. “I’m sure you’ll fit right in.”

“Thanks,” Jungkook says.

From the stairs near the stage, someone shouts, excited voices pouring into the main room.
Jungkook’s heart leaps at the sight of the dancers, eyes searching the group to find Jimin. He
lingers near the back, hair swept back now, makeup wiped away, and a leather jacket on. He looks
completely different.

Just as gorgeous.

“How— How can I become a dancer?” Jungkook blurts out, eyes flickering back to Yoongi and
Seokjin. He hears Namjoon let out a disbelieving chuckle before he sets back to work on cleaning
the bar.

Yoongi laughs, arms folding across his chest. Seokjin just looks impressed by Jungkook’s
forwardness, an amused grin on his lips.

“A dancer? Um, you audition,” Seokjin says.

“When are auditions?”

Seokjin claps a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing, turning away. Yoongi heaves a tired
sigh and rubs at the back of his neck.

“We don’t need any new dancers right now.”

The sinking feeling in Jungkook’s chest doesn’t last long when the dancers approach, Hoseok and
one he doesn’t recognize at the front. “Hey, stalker kid,” Hoseok says, “did you get the job?”

“Stalker?” Yoongi asks, and Hoseok waves him off.

“Long story.”

Jungkook tries to smile at him, but his eyes keep flickering to Jimin. “Yeah, I got it,” he says,
following the way Jimin digs through his bag, fishing out his phone and glaring at it. He can’t get a
read on him. One second he was snapping at Jungkook to get a move on, then telling him to
namedrop him, now he won’t even look anyone in the eye.

Maybe he’s just tired. He looks tired. Maybe that has him in a bad mood.

“Welcome to the family, then,” Hoseok says with a rather hard smack to Jungkook’s back as he
passes him. The other dancers seem to just follow suit, giving him little nudges or winks or smiles
as they head for the exit.

Jungkook holds his breath as they go, leaving only Jimin left to talk to him. He lingers in front of
Jungkook, hands in his pockets as he stares at him. His face is blank at first, and Jungkook can
barely meet his eyes. He glances at Yoongi and Seokjin, but they seem distracted with discussing
the show now. No one to save him from Jimin’s intimidating presence.

And then Jimin smiles, and everything terrifying about him melts away.

“Congrats,” Jimin says with a light slug to Jungkook’s arm. “Guess we’ll be seeing a lot more of
each other now, huh?”

“Mhm.” Jungkook hopes the smile on his face doesn’t look as dumb as it feels. Now is his chance.
A chance to make some kind of an impression. “Well, I hope that’s as good of news for you as it is
for me.”

He’s absolutely fucking terrified, waiting for Jimin’s response. His mind races. His delivery could
have been better. Was that just creepy? Too forward? Was it too weak? Should he have been more
forward?

God, can Jimin tell by the look in his eyes that he’s dying inside?

Jimin grins down at his shoes, and Jungkook swears he rolls his eyes.

“We’ll see about that,” he says. “Goodnight, Jungkook. See you at work.”

“See ya.”

With a wink, Jimin slips past Jungkook, shoulders bumping together. Jungkook doesn’t get to
watch him walk away like he would like to when Seokjin grabs him. He spins him toward the bar
again, a piece of paper there, which Seokjin pushes him toward it. He half bends him over the
counter.

“Schedule,” he says, tapping the paper. “Fill in the times you can work and Namjoon will shift
things around as needed.”

Jungkook just nods, grabbing the pen. His eyes drift immediately to Jimin’s name, checking the
time slots he works.

Shameless, he knows, but he makes sure he’s listed as available for every single one of those shifts
too.

Jungkook stumbles through the door of his motel room, too tired to hold himself up any longer. He
drops his bag of groceries on the floor and flops, face down, on the bed. He sighs as the pain in his
feet eases to a dull throbbing. His calves are on fire. His shoulders scream with tension, begging for
a good stretch. But he can’t bring himself to move, only managing to roll over on the bed and stare
at the ceiling.

Sirens sound in the distance, car horns honk. Somewhere in another room of the hotel, he can hear
wailing. Or moaning.

He tries not to think about it.

He can feel the lump of cash in his back pocket—or what’s left of it after his groceries—and
counts up what he’ll have after paying for this room another week. Maybe it was a stupid idea to
come here without a plan. How long can he actually last like this?

Leaving home just brought him from one dead end job to another. He knew it was a long shot,
coming here to get some sort of job as a singer or dancer or… anything. He didn’t plan for this.

What bothers him most, he thinks, is how little faith everyone who has met him has that he can do
those things. He can’t help wondering if they’re right. Maybe he doesn’t have what it takes. Maybe
washing cars and waiting tables is all he can do.

Crippling shyness isn’t a good look on stage. He can imagine himself doing all those dances. In his
head, he looks just as good as all the other dancers. But when he pictures Jimin, he feels the
charisma, remembers the way his heart would speed up or slow down with his movements. There
was no tearing his eyes away from him. Absolutely no one in that room could.

Could Jungkook ever be that?

He shifts farther up the bed, reaching for his headphones and shuffling through for a song that fits.
Maybe one from the club. Maybe just something similar.

His eyes shut as he falls back, music filling his ears, images of the stage filling his head. He
pictures himself, at first. And then he pictures Jimin.

And then he pictures them together.

A smile slips onto his lips, images of them dancing behind his eyelids. The way Jimin moves. He
almost thinks he can feel his hands on him, thinks he knows the way Jimin would touch him.

The same way he touched the other dancers, the same way he would move with them, their hands
on his hips, his leg kicked up around them. He can imagine being that blue-haired partner of
Jimin’s, bending over in front of him, Jimin’s hands sliding up his back as the crowd looks on as if
they’ve never seen something so erotic.

Jungkook doesn’t think he ever has either.

He can feel himself blushing from head to toe, hand sliding down his stomach the way he saw in
one of the dances. A thousand thoughts cross his mind, things he could do tonight with these
images.

And then he just feels guilty.

Was he really about to jerk off to a guy he just met? He feels like Jimin would probably slap him
across the face if he knew.

Jungkook keeps his hands folded behind his head for the rest of his little fantasies, just picturing
the dances—Just the dances. Not Jimin. Definitely not Jimin—until he falls asleep.

♪♡♪

Finding a rhythm at the club is easy enough for Jungkook. He shows up in time to help open the
bar, the dancers touch up any last minute changes to their routines, and Jungkook trips over himself
more times than he would like to admit while watching Jimin.

The dancers don’t talk to him much. No one does. Namjoon is at least nice to him, usually splitting
their tips too much in Jungkook’s favor, but he appreciates it. Moving to the city alone hasn’t been
easy, and sometimes it’s a little lonely here. A little quiet. But also not quiet at all. No one ever
seems to sleep in the city.

Seokjin and Yoongi are… something. They’re not cruel to him, but they’re a little mean in a
playful way. It’s meant in good fun—he thinks—but he’s not quite used to it. It takes him a little
too long to catch onto their sarcasm, always worried that one of these times it won’t be a joke and
he’ll get his ass fired.

It’s still not his ideal life, not what he came to the city for, but it’s nice. It’s stable. There’s a lot
more to do here and he’s never bored. There’s so much of the city he hasn’t seen yet, and he may
have himself to blame for that. Considering how much time he spends popping in to rehearsals to
learn the routines and showing up to shows even outside of his schedule, he doesn’t take much
time to explore.
His first goal is to become a dancer. He hasn’t given up yet, and he won’t anytime soon.

The number of times he’s had customers notice him start to move to the music as he serves them is
embarrassing, but he can’t himself. It’s who he is. It kills him everyday that he doesn’t get to be up
on that stage.

“JK!” Namjoon shouts over the music.

At first, he worries that he forgot something, but then he sees Namjoon gesture at the clock.

“Time for your break, kid,” he says, and Jungkook once again cringes at that word. Kid. They
won’t stop calling him that here. He’s barely younger than most of them.

Jungkook gives him a nod before he heads for the stairs, rushing up to where the dancers bustle
about. Half of them sit and do their makeup, the others fuss over their costumes, squeezing into
corsets and straps. That’s the only part Jungkook doesn’t envy. Still, the costumes look great, even
if they do seem a bit uncomfortable. He thinks they would look nice on him, though. Maybe.

He glances over their heads, searching for that shock of blonde hair, and catches sight just as Jimin
rounds a corner towards one of the racks of costumes. Jungkook darts after him, dodging around
the others and hoping Yoongi and Seokjin don’t notice him distracting their dancers.

“Hey, Jimin—” He starts as he swings around the corner and slams to a stop.

Before him is a mostly naked Jimin, shimmying into a pair of shorts, way too much of his ass
exposed and turned right toward Jungkook. He freezes even though he knows he should turn away,
especially before Jimin notices how much he’s seen.

It’s just his luck that Jimin spins to face him immediately, bare chest and all, a smile on his face.

“Hey. What’s up, Kookie?” he asks, making Jungkook blush instantly. He doesn’t know when
Jimin decided to start calling him that, but Jungkook can pinpoint the exact moment he first heard
it as the acceleration of his downward spiral into this stupid crush of his.

Jimin watches him expectantly, pulling on a sailor-style shirt and tucking it into his shorts.

“Uh— I was just wondering— I’m going on break so I was gonna ask everyone if they wanted me
to pick anything up for them. While I’m out.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Jimin says as he tugs on a captain’s hat. He grabs a pair of boots, tickling
beneath Jungkook’s chin as he passes him. Jungkook trails after him. “I’d love a coffee. There’s a
really good place just down the road from here. Just head left out of the front entrance and go all
the way to the corner.”

He drops into his chair, tugging on the boots one by one, and Jungkook does his best not to stare at
his bare legs stretching out in front of him. The way he pulls the boots on, slow, fingers dancing up
the backs to tie them, almost feels like he wants Jungkook to watch.

“An iced latte sounds good tonight. It’s too hot under those stage lights.”

Those words fly in one ear and out the other as Jimin sticks his foot out toward Jungkook, the
zipper up the side of the boot still undone.

“Zip this for me, will you?” Jimin asks, and all Jungkook can do is nod, mouth running dry as he
reaches for the boot.
Before he gets a hold of it, Jimin lowers his foot, then again, and again, until Jungkook has to kneel
in front of him to reach the zipper.

“You heard my order, right?” Jimin asks, then bends his leg in closer to himself, forcing Jungkook
to scoot forward. He rests practically between Jimin’s open legs as he slides the zipper up.

It takes him a moment to remember that Jimin has asked him something, even longer to realize he
means the coffee. Then another moment to realize he indeed has no idea what the order was.

“Yeah,” he lies, and Jimin’s lips quirk up in a smirk.

“Now this one.” He switches legs, and this time, Jungkook takes his time, meets Jimin’s eyes as he
does it.

His breath halts in his throat, choking him as he takes hold of Jimin’s leg, cupping his calf and
letting the zipper slide up at a tantalizingly slow pace. Jimin watches him without wavering, tongue
between his teeth. It’s hard not to think that Jimin is doing this on purpose, that he’s flirting with
him. The way his eyes almost seem to glaze over when Jungkook gets a little bold, letting his hand
slide higher on Jimin’s calf, is promising.

“Thank you, Kookie,” he says, that teasing smirk only growing. “Say my order back to me. I wanna
make sure you have it right.”

Jungkook gulps, and then he lets go and stands up. His mind races, trying to grasp for any words he
can remember that will tell him what Jimin wanted. He flounders as Jimin grabs something from
his vanity.

“You know what?” Jimin asks, stepping far too close as he slips some cash into Jungkook’s front
pocket. “I feel like trying something new tonight. Just get me whatever your favorite is. As long as
it’s cold and there’s plenty of caffeine.”

All Jungkook can manage is a stupid nod as Jimin steps back.

“And this,” he says, and then blows a kiss at Jungkook, “is a thank you for services rendered. See
you in a bit.”

Jungkook hums a quiet “mhm” as Jimin heads for the stage, the other dancers filtering past
Jungkook as he stumbles back to let them by. He takes a moment to sit atop Jimin’s vanity, breathe,
collect his thoughts.

He can’t believe he just fondled Jimin’s leg and got this worked up over it. It’s been long enough
since he realized he likes men, but he’s fairly certain he’s never been this infatuated with someone
so quickly.

All he has to do now is get the damn coffee and not do something stupid like spill it all over Jimin.

He can do this. He can totally do this.

When Jungkook makes it back it’s to find a stressed out Yoongi drinking on the job, head in his
hands as Namjoon pours him another shot, and the dressing room in turmoil. He clutches his and
Jimin’s drinks close, barely avoiding spilling them when someone bumps into him.

“We’ll have to switch the number with a different one for tonight. The whole group is too
important for this one—” Seokjin starts but the blue-haired dancer, who Jungkook now knows as
Taehyung, cuts in.

“That’s bullshit. We can make up for not having him here. He’s not that important.”

“We’ll have to improvise too much of the routine,” says another dancer, who Jungkook thinks is
named Jongin. “Jin’s right. We just need to do something else.”

“If you guys had given me a chance to talk to him,” Hoseok snaps, “I might have been able to
convince him to stay.”

“The whole point in this routine was so we would have something new,” Taemin chimes in.
“Weren’t we just talking about how worried we were that our show wasn’t evolving enough?
People are gonna get bored.”

“He’s right. We can’t go back to same old—”

Jungkook drowns out the rest of the argument as he searches for Jimin. The only ones not in the
middle of this shouting match seem to be him and Yeonjun, so Jungkook sidles his way over to
them, silently handing Jimin his coffee.

“What’s going on?” he asks as Jimin takes the drink with a quiet thank you.

“Taewon just stormed out and quit right before our new number and we can’t really do this one
without him,” Jimin explains as Taehyung throws his hands up in defeat and joins them, clearly fed
up with the argument.

“Good riddance,” Taehyung says as he steals Jimin’s coffee and takes a sip. It earns him a smack
from Jimin before he steals it back. “There were too many fucking Taes in this troupe anyway. I
just wish he had waited to throw his tantrum until after.”

Yeonjun chuckles, ruffling up his pink hair. “Did we ever really expect him to do anything else?
We always knew he was the biggest drama queen here.”

“What number is it?” Jungkook asks, foot tapping anxiously as Seokjin continues insisting on
switching to an old act.

“The electro swing remix of Crazy In Love,” Jimin says, sighing around his straw, and Jungkook’s
heart leaps.

He knows that one. He knows it way too well. Especially Jimin’s and Taewon’s part, considering
he’s never been able to tear his eyes off Jimin during rehearsals. He feels something building up
inside him before he can’t rein it in, excitement bursting out as he says, loud enough to be heard
over the fighting, “I can do it.”

Everyone stops, some staring at him in disbelief, others in utter amusement. Seokjin just shakes his
head.

“You have no idea what you’re doing,” he says. “You’re a bartender, not a dancer.”

“I know the number.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do. I watched you guys practice it.” Jungkook shoots a nervous glance at Jimin. Everyone else
looks at him like he’s an idiot, but Jimin seems almost thoughtful in the way he watches him. “I
know the whole damn thing.”

“You don’t—” Seokjin tries again.

“Wait,” Jimin pipes up, and Jungkook thinks he might pass out at the thought of Jimin of all people
speaking up for him. “Let him do it.”

Seokjin stares at him. “What? He doesn’t—”

“He does.” Jimin casts Jungkook a sideways glance, then nudges him.

Jungkook nods. “I do. I promise. I swear. I can do it.”

“Fuck,” Seokjin huffs, fingers rubbing over his brows. He looks at Jimin again. “You’re sure?”

There’s a pause, a glance between Jimin and Jungkook. The desperate plea in Jungkook’s eyes
must be obvious enough, because Jimin almost looks like he pities him at this point. Jungkook
holds his breath as Jimin stares at him, and then nods.

Everyone looks to Seokjin. After a moment, he throws his arms up in defeat and sighs. “Fine.
Fine.”

Jungkook’s heart thuds.

“Yeonjun,” Seokjin continues, “I need you to go on and do your act first—”

“What?” Yeonjun’s jaw drops.

“I need you to do that so we have time to get Jungkook ready to go on.”

“Hey,” Jimin coos, pulling Yeonjun over to him. He brushes his hair back, turns his head side to
side to check that his makeup is still perfect. “You’ve got this. You nailed it every time at
rehearsal, okay? You’re gonna be amazing. Now,” he spins Yeonjun around, “go. You.”

Jungkook’s eyes go wide as Jimin grabs at him, dragging him by his wrist over to a mirror.

“Sit down. Taemin, help him get his makeup on. Hoseok, help me find a costume that’ll fit him.”

It’s like a whirlwind around him, makeup slapped onto his face so fast he hardly has a chance to
blink, his hair fluffed up and a costume shoved into his arms that’s not so easy to get into. He
manages after a moment, and then stares at himself in the mirror.

He runs his hand over the little black and white striped vest that he knows only stays on for about
half the performance. He knows he can do the steps. He knows he can dance. The outfits look great
when he sees it on the other dancers, but he can’t tell if it works on him. The costume is fantastic,
beautifully designed, but he just doesn’t know if he has the body for it. Or maybe he just doesn’t
have the presence to make it work.

“One minute left,” Jimin says, sidling up next to him, his hand on the small of Jungkook’s back.
He smiles at his reflection. “You look amazing. And you’re gonna do great. You know the starting
position?”

Jungkook nods, eyes drifting over his outfit, all black and greys with white accents. He never
thought he would see the day he would wear stockings, or… feathered cuffs? The sparkly black
gloves aren’t a reach. He might have worn those before. He might have even worn the collar
before, too. It’s kind of cool, if he’s honest.

But the rest of it? He doesn’t think clothes like this are made for guys like him.

“You’re partnered with me for most of it.” Jimin gives him a teasing pinch to his side. “Don’t get
too distracted.”

And then Jimin smacks his ass before heading toward the stage.

If Jungkook wasn’t nervous before, he is now.

“Let’s go,” Seokjin says as he grabs Jungkook’s shoulders, guiding him out toward the stage. “I
hope you know what the fuck you’re doing.”

Jungkook barely has a chance to reconcile his thoughts and keep his head on straight before he
hears his shoes hit the stage and feels Jimin pulling him into place. He stumbles, thankful the
lights haven’t turned on yet so the audience can’t see. He only hopes he manages to stay steady
enough throughout the whole performance that they never notice how terrified he is right now.

He feels lips against his ear, warm breath as Jimin whispers, “Turn your back to the audience, hand
up,” grabbing his wrist and lifting his arm where it’s meant to be. “If you forget anything, just look
at me. When we pair up, I’ll guide you anytime you need it.”

Jungkook nods, his eyes finally adjusting to the dark just before the lights come on. He manages to
whisper a quiet “thanks” to Jimin before he slip away from him.

He takes a deep breath, eyes closed, and then the music starts. All he can do is let his muscle
memory take over, let his body copy the moves he’s practiced alone and studied for weeks now,
and hope he doesn’t fuck up.

Maybe it was a mistake to volunteer himself for possibly the most risque act yet.

But he snaps along with the beat anyway, his head spinning with the sight of Jimin as he passes
him, Jungkook’s back still turned to the audience until he hears his cue. It takes every ounce of
willpower he has to focus on the steps and not the way Jimin bends over in front of him as soon as
Jungkook’s hand touches his shoulder, the way he shakes his hair out when he leans back again.

Everything feels like a blur. The crowd is shrouded in enough shadow that Jungkook doesn’t really
see them. Even if he could, he’s not sure he would be able to take his eyes off of Jimin. He
definitely can’t focus when Jimin spins around to stand behind him, his hipbone pressed against
Jungkook’s ass, arm wrapped around his waist to hold his hip.

He almost loses track of the beat when Jimin leans in close, like he’s about to bite at the collar on
Jungkook’s neck. But then he moves back, tugging at an imaginary leash, which is Jungkook’s cue
to lean back, back, back, bending himself over backward as Jimin lowers with him, looking
directly into his eyes, upside down to Jungkook.

Jimin twists around again, and Jungkook doesn’t think he can even hear the music anymore. He
just follows Jimin as he yanks Jungkook’s vest open, then straddles him, tossing the vest into the
air with a teasing look at the crowd, a coy slap of his hand over his mouth as if he’s done
something unseemly, stripping Jungkook down like this.

It makes Jungkook’s skin feel like it’s on fire. He hopes the crowd can’t notice the way he shivers
whenever Jimin touches him, or the way his breath catches when their eyes meet. It’s exhilarating,
both being on the stage and feeling Jimin close to him like this. Just like he imagined.
Jimin swirls around again, Jungkook using the momentum to undo Jimin’s vest next, and then
Jimin lays his head back on Jungkook’s stomach, leg kicked up, Jungkook’s hand sliding over his
chest. And then Jimin is kneeling beside him, coaxing him back up with a finger dragging up his
chest, lips too close to Jungkook’s for his own good.

It feels like it’s over before it begins, both of them back on their feet, Jimin splitting away from
him and tugging his vest the rest of the way off before he joins the rest of the group. Jungkook is
suddenly very aware of where they are again, following the steps once more, eyes on the audience
like they’re supposed to be, rather than on each other.

And it clicks with him, all the times before that he’s been on stage, the exhilaration of knowing
that everyone is watching him. All eyes on him. The guy who never seems to be noticed otherwise.
That they’re watching him do the one thing he’s good at. And even with his nerves still running
high, he feels at home, especially when his eyes connect with Jimin across the stage, and Jimin
gives him a warm smile.

He hasn’t missed a single step, just like he said, moving in perfect sync with the group. He’s doing
exactly what he told everyone he could do, everything they doubted him for. Being half naked on
stage might take some getting used to, but the whoops and cheers and whistles from the crowd do
nothing to discourage him. Maybe he doesn’t look so bad up here after all.

He feels like he fits. In every way possible, he belongs up here. He’s never felt so liberated.

The last bit of the song begins and he and Jimin meet again, perfectly in sync with every beat, in
tune with each other for every step, right to the very last moment. He catches Jimin’s leg, hitching
it up along his waist, Jimin’s hand landing on his chest, their eyes on the crowd as they cheer.

It isn’t until the lights begin to dim that Jungkook dares to look at Jimin again. He expects to find
that same encouraging smile, but instead he finds Jimin staring at…

…His lips?

His smile is gone and his eyes seem almost glossed over, like he’s hazy as he trails his gaze over
Jungkook’s bare chest, then back up. They stand there for too long—Jungkook can tell by the way
the other dancers call to them and one even gives him a light smack to the shoulder.

They break away from each other, Jimin chuckling slightly as he grabs Jungkook to pull him off
stage. As soon as they’re out of sight of the crowd, Jimin drags him into a bear hug, shaking him a
bit, and Jungkook can barely return it.

“That was amazing,” Jimin says as the others begin to crowd around.

Jungkook really just wants to celebrate with Jimin, to keep looking at that bright smile on his face,
but the group jostles them apart as they all thank and compliment Jungkook. He can’t even track
who’s saying what, just hearing a jumble of voices around him.

“That was crazy!”

“How did you learn that whole routine?”

“You didn’t tell us you could dance like that!”

Seokjin and Yoongi push their way to the front, and Jungkook feels his heart flip. He supposes this
is the moment of truth. Either they’re about to tell him he killed it and they want him in the troupe
or it’ll be one of those ‘thanks but no thanks’ situations.
 The group chatter dies down, everyone waiting silently for someone to speak up first.

With his hip cocked to one side, Seokjin looks over at Yoongi, who gives him a little nod. Seokjin
sighs, but Jungkook can see a little smile on his lips.

“That was good,” he says, and Jungkook feels like he could fly. “Can you come to rehearsals
tomorrow? I’m gonna need you to prove to me you actually know as much as you claim to.”

“I do. I mean, I can.” Jungkook tries not to let his excitement show too much, but he can feel his
cheeks stretching as he smiles. “I won’t let you down. I promise.”

Seokjin takes a deep breath, head shaking. He shoots Yoongi an amused glance, then gestures to
the rest of the group. “Alright, let’s go. You’re not done yet.” He claps. “Get your asses dressed so
they can get undressed. Let’s go!”

Yoongi nods toward one of the vanities, a carefully placed, subtle smile, like he doesn’t want to
show that he’s impressed just yet. “You can get ready over there. There’s a setlist. Check it out, tell
me if there are any of Jiho’s parts you don’t know and we can readjust.”

Jungkook just nods, all too eager to go before Yoongi calls him back.

Yoongi pauses, like he doesn’t want to say this, but he chokes the words out anyway. “You were
really good. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

All Jungkook can do is smile before Yoongi leaves. He wishes he could thank him, could say
something, but he locks up. Yoongi is gone before he gets the chance, so he just sits and does as
he’s told.

He knows he has a lot to learn. He won’t be perfect at first, but at least he has his chance now. The
costumes will take some getting used to, the makeup too. Especially the makeup. He hasn’t got a
clue how to put most of this stuff on.

Jungkook feels eyes on him and he looks up at the mirror, a reflection of Jimin at his own vanity
smiling at him. He smiles back and, to his surprise, Jimin almost seems flustered. His head whips
away to stare down at the gloss in his hands instead, but he keeps smiling to himself.

Maybe Jungkook has a chance with more than just the dance troupe.

For now, however, he should focus on that.

Spending more time with Jimin is just a great, great fucking bonus.

Chapter End Notes

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 Of Foes & Friendly Fondling
Chapter Notes

Playlist | Padlet

See the end of the chapter for more notes

♪♡♪
Jungkook thought rehearsals for his old high school plays were grueling. They don’t hold a damn
candle to burlesque rehearsals. He swears he has callouses everywhere and bruises on every inch of
his body. His muscles ache everyday that he wakes up, his body stiff and screaming as he soaks
and massages them in a hot shower.

Well, more like a sad, lukewarm shower—his motel isn’t exactly five star quality—but it has to
suffice.

He’s just thankful that wearing heels seems to be a creative choice for some of the dancers’ solo
acts. Dancing in those things would be the end for him, he’s sure.

Still, it’s all worth it. Bartending and waiting tables wasn’t exactly kind to his body either, but at
least this is something he’s passionate about. Whatever pain comes with it is worth it.

Just like the first night he performed, he picks up on everything faster than the others expect. He
hadn’t been lying about how much attention he’s paid to these dances. All he needs is a little
polishing and to learn the newest routines they haven’t finalized yet.

It’s fun, even if it is exhausting. And he likes seeing another side of Jimin besides his stage persona
—barefaced, hair tied up in a little sprout atop his head some days, loose tank tops and shorts that
cling to his curves. Jungkook wishes he could look even half as good as Jimin, but he’ll settle for
just enjoying the view instead.

Sometimes, if he tries hard enough, he can convince himself that Jimin’s glances and smiles are
more than just friendly gestures. If not for the fact that all the dancers here are so comfortable
touching each other, he might read into the way Jimin always seeks him out during rehearsals, just
to readjust his posture or compliment him on what he’s doing well.

He’s sure it’s nothing. Just like he’s sure the smiles they share on stage when they perform are
nothing.

Like tonight, as they finish up another number to whistles from the audience and a few lewd
comments from some particularly drunk patrons, Jimin seeks Jungkook out and gives him a wink.

He’s just being encouraging, Jungkook convinces himself as he heads backstage, earning a pat on
the back from Yoongi. Everyone has been mostly kind and encouraging to him, if not the most
welcoming. Sometimes Jungkook feels a little out of place. Mostly, he talks to Namjoon during his
break, and everyone else clusters together in their cliques.

Even so, being here is a lot less lonely than his hometown. At least the patrons here shares a
common interest with him.

Or they have an interest in him.

That’s the most surprising thing—nights like tonight, where he stands at the bar to talk to
Namjoon, and men actually make passes at him. He never knows how to respond, so he just thanks
them for their compliments on his performance and keeps chatting with Namjoon.

“Do you know how many dates you could have scored since you came here?” Namjoon asks as he
wipes up a spill.

Jungkook shrugs. “It’s probably just because I’m the new guy,” he says, straw between his lips as
he watches Taemin’s solo. His lipstick stains the straw. He had completely forgotten he was still
wearing it. He forgets everyday that he even wears makeup now.
“Don’t sell yourself short,” someone says as they lean beside him. It’s Jimin, reaching over the bar
to grab a clean glass. He holds it out to Namjoon. “Water, please.”

Namjoon frowns at him. “You can get it yourself, you know?”

Jimin slumps dramatically on the bar. “Please. Please, I can’t go any further. I’m exhausted.
Dehydrated. You’ve no idea the things I’ve been through tonight—”

“Oh-kay, my god,” Namjoon says, but Jungkook catches his smile as he turns away.

Jimin leans his head on his hand, lip between his teeth as he smiles at Jungkook. He says nothing,
just staring at him until Jungkook’s cheeks start to redden. Even when Namjoon sets his water
down, he keeps staring.

“What?” Jungkook finally asks, eyes on his own drink. He clutches the glass, fingers tapping
against it until Jimin finally chugs down his water.

“I’m just impressed by you,” Jimin says with a satisfied sigh as he sets the glass back behind the
bar, lipstick stain turned toward Namjoon so he doesn’t miss it. “I don’t think we’ve ever had such
a quick learner here. Besides me, of course.”

Jungkook licks his lips and smiles. He can’t meet Jimin’s eyes for more than a second. “Thanks. I
try my best.”

“Where did you learn to dance like that?”

“Exactly what I wanted to ask.”

Jimin’s eyes snap past Jungkook, who spins around to find a somewhat familiar face. He doesn’t
remember the name, but he knows he’s waited on this guy’s table more than a few times. Always
the same one, the far corner, just up the steps, giving a nice view, slightly elevated above the stage.
And always the same drinks—top shelf.

“It’s only your third night dancing, right?” the man asks as he leans on the bar beside Jungkook.

“Yeah,” Jungkook says, a little nervous as the man’s eyes drag over him from top to bottom. He’s
glad he slipped a hoodie and sweatpants on for his break. Most of the dancers just wander around
in their costumes, which is what it looks like this guy is imagining him in.

He can’t help but look down at his drink again. Male attention isn’t something he’s used to, and
this guy is handsome with his dark blazer and piercing eyes, hair swept back from a chiseled face.

“Gwan Sungwoo,” he says, holding a hand out to Jungkook. “We’ve met in passing a few times.”

Jungkook nods, shakes his hand. “I remember you.”

“What’s wrong?” Jimin asks, an unamused frown turned on Sungwoo. “Taewon left before you
could score him so you set your sights on the new new guy?”

Sungwoo chuckles, fixing Jimin with his gaze. “Who wouldn’t? Figured I should make my move
before someone else scoops him up.”

Jungkook shoots a glance at Jimin, who runs his tongue along his teeth, eyes shrouded by
annoyance. “Don’t you ever get tired of trying to fuck everyone who works here?”

“I don’t fuck everyone here, Jimin,” Sungwoo says as he reaches for his pocket, pulling out a
wallet. “Chanhyung beat me to Taehyung, Yeonjun is just below the age threshold for me, and I
recall you actually pursuing me first.”

Jungkook wants to disappear into his hoodie, trapped between their gazes until Sungwoo calls his
attention to him. He turns his back to Jimin, unable to meet those glowering eyes any longer. He
chokes on his tongue when Sungwoo holds up a large wad of cash and slips it into the front pocket
of Jungkook’s hoodie.

“You know you’re not supposed to tip us—” Jimin says, but Sungwoo pays no mind.

“Buy something nice,” Sungwoo says with a smile that makes Jungkook feel naked. He swears this
guy’s eyes undress him every time he looks at him, and he’s not sure how to feel about that. “Wear
it next time I’m here. Saturday night.”

Jungkook chuckles nervously. Behind him, he can hear Jimin scoff and fake a gag before he walks
away. Sungwoo catches Jungkook by his arm when he tries to call Jimin back.

“Do you even know my name?” Jungkook blurts out, mustering up whatever courage he has. He
fishes the money out of his pocket, holding it out to Sungwoo. He can’t accept it. It has to be
hundreds of dollars.

“Jungkook, of course.”

Jungkook purses his lips, then nods and presses the money back into the man’s hand. “I can’t take
this.”

Sungwoo just smiles, turning Jungkook’s palm up to press the money back into it. He closes
Jungkook’s fingers around it and pushes his hand toward him. “Sure you can,” he says, and then he
lets go. “Either you take it, or you just leave it on the counter for some lucky soul to pick up.”

He pulls away before Jungkook can insist any further, giving him a wave as he backs up across the
room. Jungkook stands with the cash in hand, dumbfounded as Sungwoo returns to his table. It isn’t
until he hears a tap on the bar from Namjoon that he shoves the money in his pocket. Jimin is long
gone, and he feels just a tad guilty for ignoring him.

“More coconut water?” Namjoon asks, already taking Jungkook’s glass as he nods.

Jungkook takes a deep breath, lips forming an O as he exhales. He’s afraid to count that cash. He’s
afraid to meet Sungwoo’s eyes again. Nothing like this has ever happened to him before. If there’s
ever been a man interested in him in his life, it was never so obvious. He would be lying if he said
he wasn’t flattered.

He glances across the room and, to his dismay, Sungwoo looks right at him with a smirk. He waves
again, and Jungkook can barely return it before ducking his head over his fresh drink.

A cheesy smile stretches across his lips, no matter how hard he tries to contain it.

Sure, he doesn’t really know Sungwoo at all. That doesn’t mean he can’t feel a little giddy that he
caught this man’s attention.

Besides, he spent years being repressed in that little town of his. If a man wants to buy him nice
things, flirt with him a little bit, why shouldn’t he go for it? He hasn’t had his dick touched by
anyone besides himself since one very drunken party directly after high school. Then that guy went
off to college and got married to some girl. He never even made eye contact with Jungkook
whenever he would visit home.
Sungwoo, though…

He keeps looking at Jungkook for the rest of the night.

♪♡♪

The hustle and bustle of the dressing room is always a little much for Jungkook, the noise making
his head buzz, his shoulders tense. He sits at his little workspace, waiting for everyone to get
changed, pack up their things, and go.

And they do. They pass by, chatting with each other, without really noticing him. It’s been his
routine for about a week now. But it’s okay.

He tries to wave goodbye to them all, tries to say goodnight. No one notices over their chatter
about finding a nice place to get dinner together, but he shakes it off. It’s nothing personal. He’s
the new guy. Of course he’s not “in” yet.

It was the same way in all the theaters he joined throughout his high school years. He never fit in,
jumping from place to place. Someday, he hopes that can change. He would like this to be
somewhere he can finally call home.

Jungkook fidgets with the cheap makeup brushes he bought at a convenience store one night.
They’re not the best quality, but they’ll work.

The problem, as he stares at his now bare face in the mirror, is him. He’s never been good with this
stuff.

The squeaking wheels of one of their costume racks pulls his attention to Yoongi as he drags it
across the room. His eyes flicker to Jungkook and back, then to Jungkook again, clearly taken
aback to see him there.

“You haven’t gone home yet?” he asks, shoving the rack into place before he makes his way to
Jungkook. “You had a long day. You should get some rest.”

Jungkook shrugs. “I’m off tomorrow, so I wanted— I mean, if it’s okay with you, I wanted to stay
a little while and practice.”

Yoongi smiles, arms crossed. He props himself against the wall. “Sure. I’m not paying you
overtime, though.”

“Of course not.” Jungkook can’t but smile, head shaking.

There’s a brief pause, an awkward silence.

“You can stay until I’m done in the office. Got some paperwork to do.”

He nods, shoves his hands into his pockets. With a quick glance at Jungkook, his smile grows just
a touch. “I appreciate the work you’re putting into this,” he says, and then he leaves.

Jungkook feels just a tad more at home already, smiling after Yoongi until he disappears into his
office. It’s another step toward making this place home. First it was Namjoon, then Seokjin, and
now Yoongi. Eventually, the other dancers will welcome him into the fold as well. He hopes.
He leans over his vanity, picking over the makeup Seokjin had given him—much better quality
than the stuff he’s been practicing at home with. That almost makes this worse, though. He had
researched the price of a few of these items and nearly screamed at the numbers he saw. He would
hate to waste any of it with his awful skills.

With deep breath, he picks up a little container of foundation and pops it open.

He won’t get any better without trying.

“Hey.”

Jungkook jumps, hand clapping over his heart. The foundation clatters back onto the vanity as his
eyes land on Jimin’s reflection, adorned in his usual leather jacket and torn jeans again. He spins
around and leans back on the table with a relieved sigh.

“You scared me,” he says, a nervous smile dancing on his lips. “I didn’t know anyone was still
here.”

Jimin glances around at the empty room. “Did the others already head out for dinner?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook gestures toward the stairs. “It was awhile ago so I don’t know if you can catch
up but… maybe if you run.”

Jimin grins at his poor attempt at humor and drops his bag on the floor. “I’m too tired to deal with
them anymore tonight,” he says. “Why didn’t you go with them?”

Jungkook shrugs as he sits back down on the chair, spinning it back and forth. “Wasn’t hungry.”

Jimin slowly sits down on a stool, staring at him. He gets the impression Jimin doesn’t believe
him, so he spins toward the vanity and picks up one of the makeup brushes.

“I also wanted to practice with, uh, stage makeup and stuff. Yoongi said I could stay late. Until
he’s done in the office.”

He glances up at the mirror to see Jimin moving closer, dragging the stool with him. He sets it next
to Jungkook and plops down, then snatches the makeup brush from him.

“You ever done makeup before?”

“Little bit. In emergencies in…” Jungkook takes a deep breath, his face going red as always. “In
high school. Drama club. I was never good at it so my friends usually did it. But once in awhile,
when we were spread too thin, I would have to do it myself.”

Jimin licks his lips, eyes on the brush as he spins it, and then they flicker to Jungkook. He grins.
“You want some tips? I’ll show you what to do.”

Jungkook nods, throat too tight to speak as Jimin scoots closer. He can see the remnants of Jimin’s
own makeup in the light smear of liner beneath his eyes, haphazardly removed after their last
number. There’s a tinge to his lips, leftover stain from his lipstick that makes them pinker than
normal. Not that Jungkook has paid enough attention to know the exact shade of Jimin’s lips, of
course.

“Okay. First.” Jimin hooks his bag with his foot and drags it closer, pulling out a pouch. He digs
through and holds up a bottle. “Always moisturize beforehand, which we’ll skip just for this little
lesson. But next time, moisturize and prime. Stage makeup feels like someone slapped cement onto
your face, so a barrier spray makes all the difference in the world. Close your eyes.”

Jungkook shuts his eyes immediately, all too eager to do as he’s told for Jimin. He flinches slightly
as a cold mist hits his face. When he hears the cap snap back on, he opens his eyes to watch Jimin
work, eyes following the every movement of delicate hands as they lay out his palettes. He squirts
a liberal amount of foundation onto a sponge, then turns back to Jungkook.

“Never,” he says as he begins dabbing onto Jungkook’s face, “ever smear it. Always dab like this.”

Jungkook almost nods, stopping himself just in time to not interrupt. He waits patiently, hands
folded in his lap as Jimin leans in a little closer. He wishes Jimin would stop poking his tongue out
slightly as he focuses, always drawing Jungkook’s attention to his mouth. Then again, staring into
Jimin’s eyes doesn’t help him catch his breath anymore than watching his lips does. There’s really
nowhere to look that doesn’t make Jungkook feel on the verge of fainting.

“So you were in drama club in high school, huh? Was it fun?”

“Yeah. I mean, when I could be, it was fun.”

Jimin doesn’t stop what he’s doing as he casts Jungkook a curious glance. “When you could be?”

“Yeah. I moved around a lot,” Jungkook explains. “So I was in and out of different schools.
Sometimes I wouldn’t bother joining any clubs because I knew I’d be moving on soon. Sometimes
I didn’t have enough of a reputation to get any good parts in the plays and stuff, so…”

Jimin nods along with his story, still half-focused on the makeup, but Jungkook can’t help but
notice the ways Jimin’s eyes linger on his a moment too long.

With a deep breath, Jimin moves on to the next step.

“Highlighting and contouring can either be your best friend or your worst enemy, depending on the
look you’re going for. Too much and you’ll look like you’re doing drag.” Jimin pauses, then taps a
makeup playfully on the tip of Jungkook’s nose. “Which is fine if that’s what you’re doing. But
this is burlesque. You want them to pay attention to things like rosy cheeks or big, wide eyes more
than anything. Your face should be sweet and innocent, while your outfit is… dead sinful.”

Jungkook chuckles, breath catching as Jimin leans in and lightly blows at the powder on his cheek,
thumb brushing away any more excess. He sets to work on the eyeliner next, lower lip between his
teeth now, his hand steadier than Jungkook thinks he could be if he were the one doing Jimin’s
makeup.

“So, why did you move around so much?” Jimin asks, and Jungkook’s heart sinks. He had hoped
to avoid that part of his life story.

“Uh.” Jungkook fidgets with his nails. “Foster— Foster kid.”

There’s a slight pause from Jimin, their eyes meeting again, and then he nods. “Must have been
hard, growing up like that.”

“Sometimes.”

“Explains why you were so willing to uproot and come here without a plan.”

“Yeah.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here now.”

Jimin smiles at him, a gentle little smile that makes Jungkook’s heart stutter. He looks like he
wants to say more, but decides against it, attention back on painting up Jungkook’s face.

“Never worry about doing too much with the eyes. This is where you get to go wild. Do whatever
you want, use all the color you want. I like the idea of,” he purses his lips together, eyes squinting
in concentration as he adds a final touch to Jungkook’s eyes, “golds and glitters for you. Looks
good with your skin tone. And finally…”

He grabs something else that Jungkook doesn’t see, unable to pull his attention away from Jimin
anymore. He’s not sure he’s even going to remember any of these tips after this.

“Light reflecting powder is the love of my life,” he says, before gently patting it onto Jungkook’s
face. He nods toward the mirror, but before Jungkook dares to look at himself, he swallows down
his nerves to ask what’s been on his mind this whole time.

Well, what’s been on his mind besides the contours of Jimin’s face, the curvature of his lips.

“What do you use to— To—” Jungkook taps a finger beneath one of his eyes. “To put on those
little gems you always wear.”

Jimin shoots him a grin as he packs his makeup back up.

“I’m cheap,” he says as he pulls out a little tube and shakes it at Jungkook, “so I just use my
eyelash glue to put them on. You want me to put a couple on you?”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t want you to waste anything else on me.” Jungkook starts to spin his chair
toward the mirror, but Jimin pulls him back, the kindest smile on his face Jungkook thinks he’s
ever seen in his life.

“It’s not a waste if it’s for you,” he says, then pushes in close again. Jungkook can feel Jimin’s
knee between his thighs, making his skin tingle, a heat flush through his abdomen—lower. And
lower. “Hold still.”

“Okay.” Jungkook holds his breath, lips pursed. He knows he’s imagining it, but it feels like Jimin
is close enough for the tips of their noses to touch. Maybe he just wishes they could be.

He feels like bolting, barely able to hold himself back from grabbing Jimin’s face and tugging him
into a kiss. It’s almost impossible to ignore the way his body screams to touch Jimin a little more,
press a little closer until he can feel how perfectly their curves would fit with each other.

Just a few months ago and he would have been afraid to even admit to himself that he’s this
attracted to a man. Now look at him, he’s completely taken with Jimin as he’s having his makeup
done for fun.

“How do you do it?” he asks, desperate for a distraction.

“Do what?”

“Have such... presence on stage. I swear it’s like... you transport everyone to a whole different
world when you’re up there.”

Jimin’s smile widens, white teeth glistening at Jungkook, eyes crinkling. He’s even prettier when
he smiles so wide like this. “Well, thank you. But I don’t know. I just... do it, I guess. Why?” He
presses another gem onto Jungkook’s face. “Hoping for tips so you can take my place?”

Jungkook chuckles nervously, hoping Jimin doesn’t catch the hitch in his breath when he leans in
close again. “No. No one in this troupe deserves the spotlight more than you. I just don’t get how
you do it.”

“Maybe it’s just you who feels that way when I perform,” Jimin says, and Jungkook hopes there’s
enough makeup on his face to hide how he blushes. “I really don’t think I do anything special.
Don’t move. Almost done.”

He moves in even closer, as if he needs absolute precision for such an important task. It’s not like
anyone but the two of them will see Jungkook like this tonight, but he acts like he’s defusing a
bomb. Jungkook actually shifts his hips back a little to avoid the light brush of Jimin’s knee against
his crotch.

“You don’t think, um…” Jungkook hesitates. He doesn’t want to offend Jimin by asking this,
considering he figures Jimin is styling his makeup after his own. He doesn’t know how to put it
any more delicately. “You don’t think I’ll look too much like a girl like this?”

Jimin pauses, the final gem hovering close to his lashes. He glances over Jungkook’s chest and
smirks. “With your body? No one is gonna mistake you for a girl,” he says, then leans in close
again to finish the job. He’s so close his breath actually tickles Jungkook’s lips. “Besides, girls are
gorgeous. Nothing wrong with looking like them. And I’ve always supported… blurring the lines
between masculine and feminine.”

He bites his lip again—Jungkook really wishes he would stop doing that—and carefully places the
gem. Tossing the tweezers aside, he leans back in his chair and gives Jungkook a smile, observing
him like a completed masterpiece.

“I’ve always thought it was bullshit those lines ever existed in the first place. Hold on. One last
detail.” He pulls out a tiny brush, the bristles coming to a perfect point at the end, and dips it into a
dark gel. With a smile, he presses a little dot beneath Jungkook’s bottom lip. “This makeup covers
up your mole too much for my taste. It’s too cute to hide away like that.”

As Jungkook’s body flushes fully red, Jimin nods toward the mirror again.

“Take a look.”

Jimin spins the chair around for Jungkook to face his reflection, then leans over his shoulder. It’s
hard not to get distracted with Jimin right there, but as soon as Jungkook sees himself, he’s blown
away. If anyone from his hometown saw him like this, he would be burned at the stake.

“Wow. I look… totally different.”

Breathtaking, he would say if he didn’t feel like that would sound egotistical.

“You look amazing,” Jimin says. He licks his lips, almost nervous as he glances at Jungkook’s
reflection. “Do you like it?”

Jungkook nods, a bewildered smile crossing his face. He’s so transfixed on staring at his own face
he hardly even realizes he’s smiling until Jimin beams with him. Dark lines swoop around his eyes,
shimmery white and gold eyeshadow contrasting with it. Gems sparkle beneath his eyes, a rosy tint
to his cheeks now, gloss making his lips shine in the mirror lights.

It’s not too much, not exaggerated beyond what he would be comfortable with. Just enough,
highlighting his features. He looks like he belongs on stage now. From behind him, Jimin slides
his fingers through Jungkook’s hair, brushing it out, styling it until he truly looks like a performer.

“I heard Seokjin mention something about maybe dyeing your hair?” Jimin grins, arms sliding
around Jungkook’s shoulders as he leans on him. “You would look great as a blonde.”

Jungkook chuckles, short of breath as Jimin pulls away from him to pack up the last of his makeup
brushes.

“I don’t know about that.”

“I do.” In the mirror, Jimin gives him a wink. “And I’m never wrong. C’mon.” He gives
Jungkook’s arm a gentle pinch. “Let’s go. I’ll give you a ride home.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that—”

“Jungkookie.” Jimin’s tone shuts him right up, saccharine sweet, but not in a mocking way, not
condescending. It feels genuinely endearing, as affectionate as his touch. “Consider it payment for
all the coffees you get for me.”

Jungkook licks his lips, presses them into a thin line. “I’m just trying to help everyone out.”

“Everyone?” Jimin asks as he swings his bag onto his back. “Funny. I don’t think I’ve ever seen
you actually bring anyone else a drink, even when you tell me you’re going to.” He nods toward
the stairs, “C’mon. Take the ride. You know you wanna.”

He gives Jungkook a teasing grin, a little shimmy of his body as he backs up.

Jungkook feels himself standing up as Jimin curls a finger, beckoning him. His things are packed
before he realizes, his feet carrying him swiftly after Jimin and outside. Jimin practically saunters
ahead of him, ever confident. Jungkook wishes he could be even a fraction of what Jimin is.

“Where’s your—” Jungkook starts to ask, eyes drifting over the empty parking lot to find only
Yoongi’s car still there.

And a motorcycle.

“Oh.” He grins at it as Jimin leans on the bike. “This is yours?”

“This is mine,” Jimin says, and then pats the seat fondly. “Got it about six months ago. You’re not
too scared to ride it, are you?”

Jungkook shakes his head, too excited. “No. I’ve always wanted to ride one.”

Jimin catches his lower lip between his teeth, like he’s stopping himself from saying something.
Instead, he shucks off his backpack and puts it in a bag on the back of the bike.

“Here, trade me,” Jimin says as he hands his phone over and takes Jungkook’s bag as well.
“Address.”

Jungkook punches in the motel’s address and Jimin gestures for him to secure the to a little holder
beside the handlebars.

“C’mon.” Jimin swings his leg over the bike, shooting Jungkook a playful wink as he sits behind
him.
He hadn’t considered this part—sliding his arms around Jimin’s waist, fitting his chest to his back,
the leather of Jimin’s jacket slightly cold through the thin material of his own t-shirt. He zips his
own jacket up before settling in.

Better to avoid the wind that way.

Better to put a little more of a barrier between them.

Jimin hands him a helmet before putting on his own. “Always have an extra because the guys bum
rides off me constantly,” he explains before the motorcycle roars to life.

“Ready?”

Jungkook nods, his head feeling a little heavy under the weight of the helmet as he tries to decide
where to put his hands. Under Jimin’s jacket? Over it?

“Hold on tight.”

And Jungkook does, no more time to worry about how he should exactly.

He keeps his hands clasped at Jimin’s stomach, maybe a little too low, too close to his belt buckle.
City lights flash by him, the wind drowns out every other sound, car horns honk and Jimin takes a
turn a little too harshly. Jungkook’s heart leaps into his throat, but as soon as they round the corner
and straighten out again, he can only laugh.

This is like a dream. Moving to the city, becoming a dancer, meeting Jimin, getting a motorcycle
ride through his new home. It’s unreal. He doesn’t want it to end as they come to a stop at his
place.

As Jimin shuts off his bike and kicks the stand out, he shoots a skeptical look at the motel.

Jungkook hadn’t thought about this, having to explain to him why he lives here of all places.

“You’re living in a motel?” Jimin asks as he sits back on his motorcycle. His face actually wrinkles
in disgust at the sight of the building.

“No apartment would take me,” Jungkook says with a shrug. He wraps his arms around himself,
tugging his jacket tight. “Well, no apartment that didn’t feel like the landlords were planning to sell
my organs, at least.”

Jimin almost laughs, stopping himself short before he shakes his head. His lips purse into a tight
line, deadly serious all of a sudden. “Jungkook, you can’t—”

“It’s fine. It’s temporary. Just until I save up enough to get a place.”

“You’re never gonna save up enough while you’re shelling out money for a shitty motel room.”
Jimin stands back up, patting his bike seat. “Come on, come stay with me—”

“I couldn’t do that to you, Jimin. I don’t wanna be in your way.”

“You won’t be.”

“No, I—”

“Jungkook.” Jimin holds his hands up to silence him, then grabs Jungkook’s shoulders. “I’ve been
looking for a roommate since my last one left. C’mon, please. I have a pull-out bed, and I’d rather
have you than some random stranger.” He gives Jungkook a comforting squeeze. “We’ll check you
out of this hellhole. If you don’t have too much stuff, we can move you in tonight.”

Jungkook sighs, glancing between Jimin and the motel. Anything would beat sharing a room with
roaches. He hates the idea of being in Jimin’s way, but having an actual home for once might be
nice. “Fine. Fine, let’s— Let’s get my stuff.”

A wide smiles stretches across Jimin’s face before he looks down to hide it.

“Good. Alright. Let’s go.” Jimin waves him inside, glancing around like he expects to be jumped
by a mugger any second now. He pushes the door open and holds it for Jungkook. His eyes follow
a pair of passersby as they stare. “You know, they probably think I’m a client of yours right now.”

“Client?” Jungkook asks as they head inside, their voices echoing through the eerily hollow
entryway.

Jimin snorts, then claps a hand over his mouth. He has that look on his face. The one he gets when
Jungkook should know what he’s talking about but doesn’t. “A lot of people run their, uh, business
out of the rooms here. You had to have noticed by now, right? All the scantily clad people coming
and going with dudes who look like they belong behind an office desk?”

“I don’t—”

“Sex workers, Jungkookie. A lot of sex workers bring their clients here.”

Jungkook chokes. “What?”

“You can’t tell me you hadn’t figured that out already.”

“I didn’t!”

Jimin turns to walk backwards in front of him, hands clapping together as he laughs. “What did you
think all the noises you were hearing were? The wailing of ghosts of Christmas past?” He stops in
front of the stairs, grabbing either side of the doorway to block Jungkook’s path.

Jungkook glances at the front desk, then ducks his head to hide his reddening cheeks. Jimin is
never going to let him live this one down. “I just— I guess I never paid attention. I listen to my
music a lot. Drown it all out.”

With a chuckle, Jimin nods toward a man as he heads for the exit. “He thinks I’m here with you.”
He waggles his brows. “Like that.”

The laugh that escapes Jungkook sounds more like a cough, his throat closing with anxiety as he
tries to smile at Jimin. “Well, I— He— He can think what he wants. But I would never… you
know.”

“With me? Or just in general?”

Jungkook shakes his head, no retort worthy enough to say. He shrugs, shoves his hands in his
pockets, shifts awkwardly on his feet. He doesn’t budge until Jimin steps aside with a smirk to let
him pass. All he can do to keep his head from spinning is pretend not to feel Jimin’s eyes on him as
he heads upstairs.

He’s suddenly very aware of everyone who looks at them, face flushing red when he unlocks the
door to let Jimin in first and a passing woman gives him a smile like she knows something. It’s not
even the idea of sex work that makes him want to melt into the wall and disappear. It’s the idea
that Jimin would sleep with him at all.

“Welcome to my manor,” Jungkook says, gesturing around the room with all its drab walls, the
open doorway to the bathroom with its hinges and no proper door.

Jimin looks around, eyes landing on the bed, still unmade because Jungkook woke up late today.
He rushes for it, tugging the sheets up in a haphazard attempt to make it decent.

“Sorry,” he says. “I wasn’t planning to have anyone in here… ever.”

“Ooh, I’m flattered to be the first man in your new bed then,” Jimin says as he drops onto the end
of the mattress. It squeaks loud enough to make him cringe, face scrunching up at the noise.

Jungkook stifles a laugh. “Yeah, I know. The only good thing here is the semi-cool view of the
city,” he says with a nod toward the window. As Jimin looks, he sets to work on packing his
things. He doesn’t care if all he has at Jimin’s is a pull-out bed or a plain old couch or a fucking
sleeping bag on the floor. Anything is better than this.

And at least he’ll have company for once.

“Well, I promise my bed doesn’t squeak like this.”

The room goes still. Jungkook doesn’t dare glance back at Jimin until he hears him sputter slightly.

“I mean, the couch— the pull-out— the bed you’ll be sleeping on.” Jimin nods, a very determined
yet casual nod as he leans back. At least Jungkook isn’t the only one who blunders sometimes.

He smacks the bed as he stands, bouncing on his toes.

“Okay, so, what can I do to help?”

It takes mere minutes to pack up everything Jungkook owns. For a moment he had worried
carrying everything on the motorcycle would be a problem, until he realizes that a single small
duffel attached to the bike and a backpack on his back is hardly even noticeable.

They make it to Jimin’s apartment without a hitch, but as Jungkook hands him his bag, he can
sense the dreaded question on the horizon.

“This is really all you have?” Jimin asks.

“Like I said, foster kid. I never bothered to have a lot of things. Just made moving harder.”

“Right.” Jimin pops his lips together, bag slung over his shoulder now. “I was raised by my
grandparents. Parents passed away when I was pretty young. So… not a foster kid, but I— I don’t
wanna say I get it. But I get it. At least a little bit.”

Jungkook smiles, then stops. Is it wrong to smile about this? Will it seem like he’s smiling about
Jimin’s dead parents? How fucked would that be. The gears in his head start turning for something
to say and he stammers out, “I’m sorry. When— How— I mean.” He sighs. “ Sorry. I shouldn’t ask
that.”

“It’s fine. It was a motorcycle crash.”

“Are you serious?” Jungkook asks, wide-eyed as he glances at the bike next to them.

Jimin stares at him, straight-faced, and then he starts to break out into a grin.

Jungkook huffs. “That’s fucked up, Jimin. God.”

“I’m sorry. It was— It was too good of an opportunity.” Jimin nods for him to follow inside,
talking as they go. “It was a car accident, though. I was nine.”

“That’s so young.”

Jimin nods, pushing open his door. “I know. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like—if I
would be any different if they were still around—but this is the hand I was dealt. It’s not fair to
them, but I’ve come to terms with my side of it. You?”

“I was put in the system when I was 13 because my parents were considered unfit to take care of
me anymore.” Jungkook shrugs. “Not that they were ever fit for it. It sucked, they sucked, a lot of
the people I lived with and facilities I was in sucked. But I made it. And I’m here. So, yeah, I guess
I came to terms with it.”

Jimin smiles, waving a hand into the apartment as he leans in the doorway. “Well, Jeon Jungkook,
welcome to your new home. However long you decide to stay.”

Stepping into the doorway, Jungkook does everything he can not to meet Jimin’s eyes. He has to
squeeze past him to get inside, their faces too close, chests too close, his backpack making it an
even tighter fit.

It’s much nicer here—no peeling walls, no rusty clawfoot bathtub, no squeaky beds or questionable
noises from neighboring rooms. It’s spacious, the living room and kitchen separated with just an
island, double doors wide open and leading into a bedroom.

Jungkook wanders toward the couch, feeling Jimin tug his bags away from him and drop them onto
the armchair for him. He peeks into the bedroom as he passes it, gaze drifting over the rather large
bed.

“Make yourself at home,” Jimin says with a gesture around the room. “Um, I know the pull-out
couch isn’t much, but it’s better than potentially waking up with a rat in bed with you. Rent is
pretty affordable. I won’t ask for much from you since you don’t really even have your own room.
But it’ll help you get on your feet.”

Jungkook casts him a smile. He looks nervous, like he’s afraid this won’t be good enough, before
rushing off to find blankets and pillows. Honestly, Jungkook is just glad to be out of that motel and
not on the streets.

“This is perfect,” he says, running his hand over the couch cushion when Jimin returns. “No rats
and no roaches. That’s all I need.”

Jimin’s smile almost looks bashful as he gestures at the couch. “Well, let’s get you set up. We can
talk about rent and everything tomorrow.” He grabs the cushions and tosses them aside, both of
them working on setting up the bed for him. “You look tired.”

“I am.”

“You’ve been working really hard.”

Jungkook tosses one of the pillows onto the bed, the covers all made, and as he straightens up, his
eyes meet Jimin’s across the bed. He smiles, Jimin returning the gesture, and instead of the usual
heat that swells inside Jungkook every time they look at each other, it’s just a pleasant warmth this
time. Affection over lust.

It’s an outright lie to say he doesn’t have a crush.

“Get some sleep,” Jimin says, then points toward a door. “Bathroom is over there. Um. I hope you
rest well.”

“Thanks.”

The air feels thick. Jungkook doesn’t understand. Jimin is never this quiet, never struggles to meets
his eyes this much. Maybe he’s just not used to having someone else in his home.

“Seriously, thank you.” Jungkook drops onto the bed, cross-legged at Jimin sits on the other side.
He leans in, attentive, hanging onto Jungkook’s every word—and he appreciates that.

The city makes him feel unseen.

Jimin looks right at him.

“Coming here hasn’t been as easy as I expected. I think I watched too many corny coming-of-age
movies as a kid and they gave me really high expectations.”

Jimin giggles at him, a hand over his mouth as he scoots closer. It takes a moment for Jungkook to
calm down and remind himself that sitting on a bed with a man he’s had nothing but impure
thoughts about since coming here doesn’t mean it will necessarily lead to those thoughts becoming
reality.

“I know how you feel,” Jimin says as he brushes his fingers through Jungkook’s hair. “I had big
dreams too. Can sort of feel like the end of the world when things don’t go perfectly to plan.”

He tucks a strand of hair behind Jungkook’s ear, fingers trailing down his neck. And when he pulls
away it’s hard to resist catching his hand and holding it tight. Jungkook isn’t used to affection
given so freely. Jimin seems to overflow with it.

“But sometimes the places we end up when we don’t quite reach those dreams can give us new
dreams. I thought I’d be on TV by now, singing, being the nation’s It Boy, the country’s number
one star.” Jimin shrugs. “But I’m here and that’s okay. I’m happy with the troupe. They’re like
family to me now. The club is like my home. I think I always pushed myself to achieve these
things that others viewed as success, but eventually I realized that simplicity is actually what I
want. I just want a quiet life… where I can be myself and only have the spotlight on me when I
choose. A life where I can fall in love without worrying about how the world will see me. I think
that is success to me.”

Jungkook doesn’t have to be the one to reach out. Jimin does. He laces their fingers, lets their hands
rest on the bed between them.

“You’ll find the life you want eventually,” he says as he brushes his thumb up Jungkook’s wrist.
“Everyone finds their way eventually. So don’t give up hope. Don’t feel bad, like you made the
wrong choice or something. Even if the path you’re on now doesn’t work out perfectly, it’s a good
experience. You can learn from everything you do. Okay?”

His eyes snap up to meet Jungkook’s with that last word, and for a moment Jungkook thinks he
might choke on his tongue. It feels like Jimin looks right into his soul. All he can do at first is nod.

“Okay,” he whispers, and then he squeezes Jimin’s hand as he starts to move away. “Hey. By the
way, even if you don’t feel like you’re number one, Jimin, you’re number one to me.”

The smile on Jimin’s face is almost dumbfounded. Jungkook’s sure he never expected anything
even in the realm of bold from him. He doesn’t blame Jimin. Jungkook feels like he’s done nothing
but looked meek at best and like a babbling, blundering fool at worst.

Jimin tucks the other side of his hair behind his ear as well, then boops the end of his nose. He
smiles so wide, his eyes crinkling up at the corners, and Jungkook once again has the urge to
squeeze a pillow until it pops.

“You’re the sweetest, Kookie,” Jimin says before he stands. Jungkook already misses having him
close. “And you’re number one to me too. Just don’t tell the other guys at the club.”

Jungkook mimes zipping his lips and tossing the key, earning another beautiful, beautiful laugh
from Jimin.

Jimin almost speaks again, and then his eyes drift to something—Jungkook’s wallet on the table.
“Is that the money from Sungwoo?” he asks suddenly.

Jungkook nods, eyes on his wallet, bills sticking messily out of it. He had almost forgotten about it,
but then the guilt rushes back in. Maybe he should return it.

“You never used it?” Jimin asks, sitting down in the armchair now. He seems almost lost in
thought, staring at the money. Jungkook doesn’t want to speak, like he’ll interrupt something if he
does. He wonders if he fucked up. If he should have spent it and now Sungwoo will be pissed and
he should be worried.

Jimin looks either confused or frightened, he can’t tell which.

“No. Is that bad?” Jungkook stretches out on the bed, eyes on the cash. “He asked me to wear
something I bought with it on Saturday night but I… didn’t. Couldn’t tell if he was pissed that
night or annoyed or just— I don’t know. I can’t get a read on him.”

Jimin shrugs. “I’m sure he’s fine. That,” he points at the money, “is chump change for that guy.
He doesn’t even miss it. And, hey, you didn’t sign a contract for it, so that money is yours to do
with as you please.”

Jungkook smiles as Jimin shrugs. His eyes drift across the room, lingering on a framed photo, his
lips puckered slightly.

“You don’t like him much, do you?” Jungkook asks, and Jimin snorts.

“That’s putting it nicely.”

“What did he mean? About you pursuing him? And you, about him fucking everyone there?”

“Sungwoo’s a bit of a slut,” Jimin says bluntly, but there’s no malice in his voice this time. Just a
matter-of-fact statement. “And yeah, me pursuing him… That was a couple years back when I first
started there. Sungwoo had only recently become a regular and had just broken up with Taemin. It
was before we all figured out his game. So Taemin and I didn’t get along at first because I went
after Sungwoo. It was stupid. I was stupid. And flattered by his attention. Now it’s just par for the
course, him going after the new guys.”
“He doesn’t sound like a very good person.”

“I don’t… know if he is. Honestly, who can really decide who is or isn’t a good person?”

“Do you think it really matters?” Jungkook asks, earning a curious cock of Jimin’s head. “I mean,
if he’s just looking for fun and I’m just looking for fun, do you think it matters if he’s good or
not?”

“I guess not. Not if you’re okay with it.”

“I think I am. I didn’t really get to just… have fun back home. Or anywhere that I lived, really. Lots
of small towns. Lots of closets that no one was willing to peek out of.”

Jimin nods. “Yeah. I mean, if you’re fine with casual stuff, then that’s great. Sungwoo’s an asshole
but everyone at the club doesn’t sleep with him because he sucks in bed,” he says with a chuckle.
Jungkook can’t tell if he’s annoyed or nervous, his face flushing slightly. “He’s definitely…
experienced. And he will definitely buy you a lot of things.”

Jungkook purses his lips. It’s now or never.

“And you’re okay with it?”

Jimin’s eyes snap back up to him and he chuckles. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just asking,” Jungkook says, wracking his brain for what to say next. He stupidly hoped there
would at least be a flicker of hesitation, like maybe Jimin doesn’t want him to do this after all.

Not because of Sungwoo.

Because of him.

Of course Jimin wouldn’t be interested in him. He’s just being nice.

“I don’t wanna step on any toes.”

“You won’t,” Jimin promises. He rolls his eyes slightly. “Trust me, everyone at the club knows
about Sungwoo. No one is getting bent out of shape about you seeing him.”

“Okay. Good. Good.” Jungkook pops his lips together, eyes on the sheets as he picks at the lint.
“Thanks again. I’d hate to do anything to piss anyone off, considering what we just talked about.”

He glances up to find Jimin watching him, eyes a little shiny, brows pulled up and together in an
almost sorrowful look. Like he pities Jungkook.

“I guess I thought moving to the city would fix everything. Including being… stupid shy.”

“I promise you won’t piss anyone off. And if you do,” Jimin stands, and Jungkook wants to pull
him close again, “I’ll bite ‘em for you. I’m your friend.” His smile could melt the polar ice cap. “If
that helps at all.”

“It does. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Get some sleep,” Jimin says as he backs toward his room, but Jungkook doesn’t
feel tired at all. And he doesn’t want Jimin to go just yet. “And, hey, you know you’re allowed to
make the first move, right?”
“W-what?” Jungkook chokes once again, his one-track-mind only pulling one meaning from that.
Jimin couldn’t possibly be suggesting a move on him, right?

“With the guys at work,” Jimin says, and Jungkook’s other dreams are effectively crushed. “If you
wanna be friends with everyone, you can just ask to hang out with them first. You don’t have to
wait around for them. Show them who’s boss.”

He gives Jungkook one last smile, another wink.

“Goodnight.”

♪♡♪

Jungkook stretches his arms above his head, deep breaths in as the other dancers disperse. His legs
ache. It’s just a few practice runs before the show tonight, but it’s exhausting. He feels like he
belongs in the circus, dancing this new number. He might as well call himself an acrobat at this
point.

“Feeling okay?” Jimin asks. He pokes Jungkook in the side, making him squirm away. “You’re
picking up the new routine really fast. Faster than everyone else, if I’m honest.”

“Thanks. I’m just trying to earn my place here.”

Jimin wraps an arm around his waist, squeezes, and Jungkook thinks he might never breathe again.

“Please, you’ve already done that by saving our asses that first night,” he says. “Do you want a
coffee before we open tonight? My treat this time.”

“Sure.” Jungkook craves Jimin’s touch as soon as it leaves him. “You choose the drink tonight.
Surprise me.”

“You got it,” Jimin shoots him a wink—he always does that now, always makes Jungkook feel like
the center of the world. He knows he’s just being kind, trying to make him feel like he fits in.

It’s nice. Jungkook appreciates it. Though, he does still need to at least try to befriend the others.
Jimin’s right. He’s allowed to make the first move.

He looks across the stage to where Taehyung stands, the only dancer still dawdling behind besides
Jungkook. With a few careful steps forward, hands wringing together, Jungkook calls out, “Hey,
Taehyung.”

Taehyung double takes when he sees who it is, then glances around as if expecting to find that
someone has put Jungkook up to this. “What’s up? You need help with one of the dances or
something?”

“No. No, I think I’ve got that. Jimin’s been helping me. I actually…” Jungkook gestures toward his
bag at the edge of the stage. “I heard that you help the others dye their hair. I heard you’re really
good at it.”

Curious, Taehyung turns to him, eyes narrowed. There’s an almost mischievous smile on his face.
“Are you asking me to dye your hair for you, Jungkook?”
“Just for a little help. I’ve never done it before, so…”

“Did Jimin put you up to this?”

Jungkook shakes his head.

Taehyung crosses his arms with a sigh. His eyes drift out to the tables, and Jungkook thinks for a
moment that he’ll say no. But then gestures backstage and grabs his bag. “Alright. Let’s go.”

He thinks he hears angels singing. Or maybe there’s an epic orchestral soundtrack playing in the
background as he follows Taehyung, like he’s just achieved a victory he never thought possible.

Why is making friends so difficult?

“What color are you planning?” Taehyung asks.

“Blonde.”

There’s a slight grimace on Taehyung’s face. “You sure that’ll be a good color on you?”

“Jimin said it would be.”

Taehyung chuckles, eyes rolling. “Thought you said Jimin didn’t put you up to this.”

So talking to Taehyung isn’t so bad. He’s not quite as intimidating as he seems. He’s funny in a
teasing, bratty sort of way. Even more than Jimin. And it’s no secret that he intentionally pulls at
Jungkook’s hair while bleaching it just to be a little shit.

“We’ll just have to bleach and tone it tonight. I’ll finish dyeing it another day when we have more
time.” Taehyung tilts Jungkook’s head back over the sink to rinse, and suddenly Jungkook is very
nervous that he won’t look good like this.

Jimin had come back halfway through the process, coffee in hand, and the sparkle in his eye made
it worth Jungkook’s nervousness. He got that same little thrill he always gets whenever Jimin pays
him any mind.

“So,” Taehyung says, and Jungkook risks a peek up at him to see him smirking. “I heard you
caught Sungwoo’s eye.”

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut and more warm water runs through his hair. “According to Jimin,
everyone catches Sungwoo’s eye.”

Taehyung chuckles. “Maybe. But who cares? Could be fun. I hear he takes people on the best
dates. Loves to spend money on guys as cute as you. Sit up.” He pushes Jungkook’s head forward,
then starts toweling it dry. “I’m not dating Chanhyung because I think he’s in love with me, I’m
doing it because we have fun together.”

“And you’re fine with that?”

“I’m thrilled with it.” Taehyung grabs a blow dryer, finger on the button like it’s the trigger of a
gun. “I’m not saying you have to do the same or that you’ll be as into it, but I’m just saying, it’s an
opportunity.”

“Is Chanhyung, like…” Jungkook blushes as Taehyung fluffs out his hair, blow dryer at the ready.
“Is he a sugar daddy or something?”

Taehyung barks out a laugh. “Something like that,” he says. “Let me style your hair and you can
get one too.”

Jungkook convinces himself the heat in his face is from the hair dryer passing over him. He sits
there, quiet, and lets the topic go as Taehyung styles him. He stares at himself in the mirror, golden
as Taehyung leaves to put the dryer away. He’s golden. He knows it’s not finished, but even
bleached he looks completely different.

Jimin had been right when he said whites and golds look good on him. That seems to apply to hair
too. It’s striking, unexpected. He’s been so used to seeing himself one way all his life, maybe he’s
just experiencing a bit of shell shock from the change but…
He thinks he would hit on himself if he was a patron of the club.

The others seem to agree. As they prepare for the show, everyone fawns over him, running their
fingers through the pale locks. Yeonjun makes a passing comment about blonde being a “gateway
color” and next he’ll be blue, red, purple, pink.

He’s just happy they’re at least talking to him now, but most important are the little glances Jimin
casts him in his mirror as they do their makeup. Their reflections stare at each other until Jimin
smiles, and Jungkook ducks his head over his palette. He can feel eyes on him for a moment still,
but when he finally looks up again, Jimin is focused on painting his own face.

Jungkook dips into the glittery gold, and sets to work. He’s gotten good at this. At least, he thinks
he has. He looks almost as good as the others now, almost as professional, as… beautiful.

That’s not a word he ever thought he would want to use to describe himself.

Beautiful.

Handsome, is what he’s been conditioned to strive for. Hot. Strong. Manly.

And maybe there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be that, too. But maybe there’s nothing wrong
with beautiful or pretty either.

And maybe he likes the idea of every one of those words flitting through the minds of the crowd as
he dances. He’s not pinned down here, not cornered and told what to be. He can be whatever he
wants. He never thought he could feel confident, but maybe that was just because he wasn’t
allowed to be him.

On stage, he is. Even off stage, on his breaks, he feels completely unlike the boy he was back
home.

Still a little shy, but not so much that he crumbles during every chat with a patron.

Or Sungwoo.

Even Sungwoo’s attention doesn’t shake him so much as he leans on the bar to chat with Namjoon.
Sungwoo slides down the bar and stops next to him with a smile and an empty glass.

Jungkook tries to smile, and then he remembers the money, and suddenly all of that confidence
seeps out of him. He never bought anything with that cash Sungwoo gave him, and suddenly he
wonders if he should return it? Will Sungwoo be upset with him?
“That,” Sungwoo waves a finger at Jungkook’s hair, “was a good choice.”
Jungkook chuckles, leaning down to take a sip from his straw. “It’s not done,” he says. “We need
to dye it still. A little more blonde, a little less bleached.”

“Even better.” Sungwoo turns to fully face him, sliding his glass to Namjoon as he passes by. It’s
incredibly smooth, Jungkook has to admit, like something out of a movie. If he tried doing that, he
would probably push the glass right off the counter.

“More of the same?” Namjoon asks with a glance between the two of them. He looks almost wary
as he eyes Sungwoo, who gives him a nod before he heads off again.

This is it. Jungkook is certain. Sungwoo will mention the money, Jungkook will apologize
profusely, return it, and then they’ll probably never speak again. But instead, Sungwoo just grins at
him, taking in the view. He seems to really like staring at Jungkook, and Jungkook thinks he might
just like to be stared at like this.

“I’d assume that because you’re still new in town that you’re single,” Sungwoo says as Namjoon
slides a fresh drink right into his hand, “but looking the way you do, I wouldn’t be surprised if
someone has scooped you up since we last talked. So?”

He takes a drink as Jungkook blushes. So much for not getting flustered anymore.

“I am painfully single,” Jungkook says. “I don’t think most guys have the dangerous levels of
confidence you have to just ask people out.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment.” Sungwoo takes a sip of his drink, glancing at the stage as
Hoseok’s solo performance for the night begins. His attention doesn’t drift for long, piercing eyes
back on Jungkook in a second, and this time they stay for good. “So what does a guy have to do to
get a date with you?”

Jungkook almost chokes on his straw, barely managing not to suck water into his lungs. He covers
his near-death with a laugh and hopes his clumsiness doesn’t show. “A date?” he asks. “You want
a date with me?”

“I want a date with you.”

“Why me?” Jungkook lifts a brow at him, though inside he feels like screaming. He’s never been
asked on a date before. Not one that meant anything or didn’t chicken out at the last second. “I
heard you like to sample the goods here.”

“I think you’ve been talking to Jimin too much.” Sungwoo shrugs. “Maybe he’s right. But I’ve
never been dishonest with anyone here. Everyone’s always known I just like to have fun and make
sure whoever I’m with does too. If that’s not your thing, just say the word,” he takes a drink, eyes
still locked on Jungkook, “and I’ll leave you alone.”

Jungkook almost gnaws on his lip, stopping himself just in time. Seokjin will kill him if he keeps
messing up his makeup and having to waste time fixing it between every number.

“And what’s in it for me?”

Sungwoo laughs, a genuine, hearty laugh that makes Jungkook giggle along with it. “Good food,
good wine—or whatever you want, if you’re not a wine guy—one of the best views in the city. I
have a pool. And a hot tub.”

“Inviting me into the hot tub already? You move fast.”

“When I know what I want, I go for it.”

“And what do you want?”

Sungwoo pauses, drink halfway to his lips, a smirk creeping up. “I’m not sure yet. I think I’d just
like to see where this goes.”

Jungkook looks back at the stage, counting up the minutes until he’s needed back up there. Lips
pursed, he glances to Namjoon, then toward the stairs to the dressing rooms where he can see Jimin
descending, and then to Sungwoo again. “I… will think about it.”

“I’ll take that as a win for now,” Sungwoo says, raising his drink in celebration. He takes a swig of
it, gives Jungkook a wink, and then pulls a business card from inside his jacket. He sets it on the
counter with a tap of his finger. “For whenever you make up your mind.”

He steps away from the bar, pauses, then leans in again.

Oh, fuck. This is it.

“About the last time, when I gave you that money.”

Yep. Shit.

“That was…” Sungwoo almost looks like he wants to laugh, fingers tapping on the counter. He
actually sounds nervous as he says, “That was probably a bit much. I know I come on a little strong
sometimes. So…”

“Did you want— Do you want the money back?” Jungkook asks, pointing toward the dressing
rooms. “I’ve got it in the back. I can go—”

“No. No, no, that’s fine,” Sungwoo says with a wave of his hands. He chuckles—definitely
nervous. He’s barely able to meet Jungkook’s eyes anymore, and Jungkook has to refrain from
grinning ear to ear. It’s actually kind of endearing. “It’s… fine. I gave it to you. It’s— That’s yours
now. And this…”

Sungwoo places his hand over his business card, pulling it back.

“This time I will ask,” he holds the card out to Jungkook, “would you like my number?”

Jungkook flattens his lips in a tight line, takes a deep breath, and reaches out. He almost takes the
card, hesitates, and then lets out a heavy sigh. “I guess,” he teases, tugging the card away. “It’s the
least I can do in return for the money.”

“Perfect. Consider us even now.” Sungwoo raises his drink, a somewhat triumphant smile on his
face. “Well, I shouldn’t keep you from work. So, I’ll see you on the stage.”

All Jungkook can give him is a nod, and then Sungwoo is gone, swept back onto the floor with the
other customers. Jungkook watches him go, knocks back the rest of his drink and sets the glass
behind the counter for Namjoon. The business card stares up at him, Sungwoo’s number scrawled
across the front.

Holy shit. This is the first time he’s ever gotten a guy’s number. He can hardly believe it.

When he looks to the stairs again, it’s to find Jimin staring at him before he whips his head away.
He pretends like he had been talking with Yeonjun the whole time, but Jungkook knows better. He
doesn’t know why Jimin is so bothered by Sungwoo’s attention, but he hopes he isn’t worried
about him. Jungkook may be a small town kid but he can take care of himself.

Jungkook pushes away from the bar, straightens out his shirt, and heads for the dressing rooms. But
before he can reach the stairs, Jimin turns on his heel and rushes back up them with barely a
glance.

And maybe he’s just imagining it, but Jungkook can’t help feeling that that subtle frown on his lips
was directed at him.

♪♡♪

It’s not in his head—or maybe it is—but Jimin has absolutely been more subdued over the past
week. Not unfriendly, nothing dramatic, but his usual too-friendly demeanor is gone. He isn’t
constantly playing with Jungkook’s hair or cooing about him looking gorgeous during rehearsals.
Jungkook misses it, if he’s honest, and he doesn’t know why Jimin has stopped.

Maybe he’s just trying not to interfere with whatever the hell is going on between Jungkook and
Sungwoo—fuck, he still has to spend that money—or maybe he doesn’t like whatever is going on
between them.

Taehyung’s been encouraging, but every mention of Sungwoo has Jimin rolling his eyes before
swearing to Jungkook it’s just because he finds Sungwoo annoying.

Jungkook curls up at the end of his bed, a long-forgotten TV show playing in the background as he
frowns at his phone. Page after page, video after video, on how to properly pluck eyebrows and he
still can’t be sure he’s got this right. Who knew there were good and bad ways to do it? He thought
you just tug some hairs out and call it a day.

A message appears at the top, another text from Sungwoo. They’ve been going back and forth for
days now and at this point Jungkook can’t figure out why Jimin hates the guy so much. He’s
funny, charming, nice. A little too forward at times, but not overbearing.

He certainly knows how to flatter. That much is evident as Jungkook reads through the new text, a
response to Jungkook teasing him for always bragging about his fancy condos and “best views in
the city.”

The view would be even better if you were in it.

Jungkook snorts, shooting back a quick "I’m afraid to even ask how many other guys you’ve used
that one on” before his attention is drawn to Jimin as he heads for the kitchen. He tosses his phone
aside. He’s been waiting for Jimin to come out of his room for an hour now, since he hatched a
plan to get him back to normal.

“Hey,” Jungkook calls to him, “can I ask you a favor?”

“Sure,” Jimin says as he leans down to look in the fridge.

Jungkook lets his eyes wander—over the sleeveless shirt and bare skin, the short-shorts with
glittery words across his ass—before he answers. Just because he’s flirting with Sungwoo doesn’t
mean he can’t enjoy the view. Jimin would do the same. Sungwoo is definitely doing the same,
wherever he is tonight.

“You pluck your eyebrows, right?”

Jimin shoots him a curious glance as he straightens up with a bottle in hand. He grabs another and
pops them open, and Jungkook folds his arms over the back of the couch to watch him, chin on his
arms.

“Yeah,” Jimin says as he hands a beer to Jungkook. “Why?”

“I was hoping you could help me,” Jungkook says as he takes a drink, then murmurs a quiet thanks
around the rim. He settles back on the bed as Jimin hops over the back to sit with him. “Because I
really don’t wanna fuck up my face.”

Jimin chuckles and sets aside his beer. “Here, I’ll fix you right up,” he says. “Give me the
tweezers.”

Jungkook more than eagerly slaps them into his hand, trying not to smile when Jimin moves closer.
It’s just like when Jimin did his makeup, a hand under Jungkook’s chin to tilt his head however he
needs. Jimin’s hands are soft. He loves the way they feel on him during rehearsals, he loves how
gentle Jimin is.

“So,” Jungkook gulps as Jimin leans in, fingers tickling his throat, “should I be worried about why
your last roommate left?”

There’s a slight laugh before Jimin stops and steadies himself, keeping his hand still as he pluck
the first hair. Jungkook tries not to wince, but the sting is more than he expected and it makes his
eyes water.

“No fault of my own, I swear. I’m a good roommate.”

“The fact that you felt the need to clarify that worries me.” Jungkook beams at the way Jimin rolls
his eyes, and then he tugs another hair out as revenge. “How long was your last roommate here?”

“Uh, seven, eight months?” Jimin’s fingers give the subtlest stroke along his jaw. Accidental,
Jungkook guesses. “He moved out about a month ago.”

It’s hard to keep himself breathing like this, but Jungkook manages. “So your last roommate stayed
on this couch for eight months? He must have really had nowhere else to go.”

Jimin hesitates, eyes meeting Jungkook’s for a moment.

“Unless, of course,” Jungkook says, a little dizzied by the way they stare at each other, “he was
staying in another part of the apartment.”

Jimin keeps working in silence for a minute, but the wider Jungkook’s smile grows, the more he
realizes he’s caught. He sighs.

“Okay, yeah. It was my boyfriend. We broke up, he moved out, and I’ve been begging all of the
guys at work to move in with me or find me a roommate before I go broke. So,” he reaches for his
drink to lift it to Jungkook, “this one’s to you. For saving my ass.”

Jungkook clinks their bottles together and drinks with him. “Kind of a relief to know it’s helpful for
me to be here. I’d hate to feel like I’m just a nuisance.”
“You could never be a nuisance, Kookie. C’mere. Let’s finish getting these eyebrows all fancied
up.”

“If my friends could see me now.” Jungkook shakes his head, heart accelerating as Jimin slides a
little closer. Their knees touch, he catches Jungkook’s chin again, and Jungkook dreams of Jimin
just tugging him into a kiss.

Suddenly the thought of home makes all the happiness of tonight fade from Jungkook. Everyone he
ever knew—they would be horrified, seeing him dance, looking at his face all painted up and his
hair bleached. Getting his eyebrows plucked. He’s the exact opposite of what a man is “supposed”
to be now. He wonders if he could even face Yugyeom anymore without wearing his old clothes,
going back to the old him.

“They would all wanna fuck you.” Jimin pauses, lip between his teeth, his smile fading as
Jungkook refuses to look at him. “They’re just eyebrows, Jungkook. Men are allowed to pluck their
eyebrows. Fuck anyone who says otherwise.”

Jungkook nods as Jimin tips his head back up, tugging another hair out. He grimaces. “Does hurt,
though.”

“Beauty is pain, they say.”

Slowly, Jungkook’s smile returns as he looks at Jimin’s focused face. The way he furrows his
brows and bites at his lip is adorable. If Jungkook ever thought he could stand a chance with a guy
like Jimin, he would go for him in a heartbeat.

“Thanks,” Jungkook says, glancing down. He’s afraid to meet Jimin’s eyes as he says this. “For
being so nice all the time. I… I don’t know what I’d do in this crazy place without you.”

Jimin gives his chin an affectionate squeeze, then plucks again. He smooths his thumb over
Jungkook’s eyebrow when he winces again, easing the pain. “You always act so surprised when
I’m nice to you, Kookie. Do I really seem like I would be that mean of a person?”

“No.” Jungkook’s eyes go wide as saucers. “No, you always seemed nice. Intimidating as hell. But
nice. I just didn’t really… grow up around kindness. I was never really noticed much.”

“Well, I notice you. Anyone who doesn’t is missing out.”

Jimin scoots even closer, legs wrapped loosely around Jungkook’s waist, draped over his lap. It
feels incredibly intimate, skin on skin, inches between them.

“Just a few more,” Jimin says, sweet breath on Jungkook’s lips, his hand curling behind his neck
and pulling him close. So close. It’s like Jimin actually is pulling him in for a kiss this time—and
Jungkook could convince himself for that if not for another pain in his brow. “Sorry. Do you want
me to finish dyeing your hair tonight, too?”

“You don’t have to do that.” Jungkook tries not to breathe out as he talks. They’re so close. What if
his breath smells or something?

“I want to.” Jimin pauses, leaning back just enough to look in Jungkook’s eyes. He swallows.

Maybe Jungkook isn’t imagining this. Maybe there’s something here. Jimin certainly looks as
nervous as Jungkook feels right now. The rattling breath he lets out makes Jungkook shiver.
Coupled with the way Jimin’s fingers dance up into his hair, Jungkook thinks he might just drop
dead of heart failure right now.
Jimin sucks in a sharp breath and refocuses, and the magic is gone, the moment shattered.

“Want you to be able to look your absolute best for Sungwoo, you know?”

“I—” Jungkook falters. This is exactly what he didn’t want tonight. He just wanted to spend time
with Jimin and have fun like they usually do—watch bad movies, dream up new routines, get
drunk and talk about nothing until they pass out.

“Don’t look so scared, Kookie. You’re acting like you just got caught jerking it into one of my
socks or something.”

It’s been awhile since Jungkook has blushed like this and Jimin seems to enjoy it a little too much.

“You haven’t done that, right?” Jimin asks, but then giggles before Jungkook gets a chance to
protest. He plucks one last time, then sets the tweezers aside. “There you go. All prettied up now.”

Jungkook expects him to move away, but Jimin instead cups the back of his head with both hands,
drawing his fingers through his hair. They slide around to cup his face, thumbs rubbing across
Jungkook’s brows again until the dull burning across his skin begins to fade. He could get used to
this, being halfway wrapped up in Jimin, maybe two inches from kissing him as he stares into his
eyes.

“Sungwoo’s gonna be completely smitten with you,” Jimin says. His arms loop behind Jungkook’s
neck now, forcing him to lean in a little further.

And Jungkook panics, pulling back when Jimin’s nose nearly bumps with his. “Yeah, I hope so,”
he says with a nervous chuckle. The pounding of his heart feels like a punch to his ribs and he’s
surprised he doesn’t fumble the bottle when he tries to take a sip of beer.

Jimin seems just as eager to move away, shifting to the other side of the bed to drink.

“When are you seeing him?”

“I don’t know. Soon, maybe? I still haven’t bought anything with that money he gave me.”
Jungkook settles on the bed, bottle in his lap. Good. Talk about Sungwoo. It’ll keep his mind off
the way his heart sinks, knowing Jimin doesn’t want him the same way after all. “It feels weird,
buying things with someone else’s money.”

Jimin shrugs. “Tae does it everyday.”

“Well, I’m not Tae.”

“Mm-hm, and that’s why I’m okay rooming with you.”

Jungkook laughs, curling his knees to his chest as he drinks. “I don’t know. I think Sungwoo could
be fun. I’ve never really gotten to do much aside from… making out in closets. No pun intended,”
he says, and the way Jimin smiles at him melts his heart—such a wide smile he goes moony-eyed.
“I know you don’t like him and I get why. But I’m not as naive as I seem. I know what he wants. I
just think he could be fun. I’m not expecting anything real with him. But if you don’t want me
to…”

“What? No. No, no, no.” Jimin stretches his leg across the bed to poke Jungkook’s foot. “Don’t
ever do things or not do things because of me. If you know what you want, go for it. You would
have fun with him. I mean, I’m sure I could find you someone who would be more fun, but he’s a
good jumping off point.”
Jungkook looks to his phone, where it lies face down on the bed, and takes a deep breath. “You
really think I should go for it?”

“Yeah!” Jimin nudges him again, and his enthusiasm almost hurts. Jungkook wishes there was just
a little hesitation, like Jimin might want him for himself even in the smallest way. “Of course. Go
for it. Get laid. Have fun. Buy yourself gifts with his money. You deserve it.”

He grabs Jungkook’s phone and tosses it to him. “Tell him you wanna meet up.”

“Now? Like, go meet him now?”

“Sure, why not?”

“What about the money? Shouldn’t I buy something to wear before I see him?”

Jimin pauses, tapping a finger against his lips until they curl into a devious smile. “You know what
you should do? Go on a shopping date with him. Try on a few things, show them off for him, and
make him choose.”

Jungkook pauses halfway through a text. “Why?”

“You’ll get an idea of what kind of stuff he’s into. Once you know, you can use that shit to tease
him and work him up.” Jimin winks. “Makes the sex better if you get your partner riled up before.”

The laugh that leaves Jungkook sounds more like a wheeze than anything, so he just nods. “Okay.
Um, how do I… say that to him?”

Jimin freezes in place, stares at Jungkook, and then slowly lowers his beer. There’s hesitation
before he reaches out, and Jungkook almost thinks that smile is faked. “Here, let me do it.”

“What— No—”

“Give it. Gimme, gimme.” Jimin snatches the phone, then scrambles away again. “I promise I
won’t send anything too embarrassing. Hmm, let’s think…” He chews on his lip, leaving Jungkook
in suspense as he types. “There.”

He tosses it again and Jungkook scrambles to check the message: I’m holding a raffle. The lucky
winner wins one (1) date with me tonight.

“That’s so corny.”

“He’ll love it. Just wait.”

Jimin seems overly confident as he reaches for the remote, changing the TV channels until he finds
and old black and white film. Jungkook can’t be bothered to guess what it is when his phone goes
off and Jimin’s eyes snap to it, anticipating his answer.

“He said ‘Oh, really? How do I enter this raffle?’” Jungkook feels his heart in his throat as he looks
at Jimin.

“Tell him ‘You already entered by giving me your phone number. Everyone in my contacts gets to
be a candidate this time.’”

Jungkook squeaks out a quiet “okay” as he sends it. He can’t believe he’s doing this—being
coached by his crush on how to get some hot older dude to hook up with him and possibly be a
semi sugar daddy. If anyone had told him he would have ended up here when he left his
hometown…

The Jungkook from just months ago would have said it was impossible.

His phone buzzes again: How do I convince you to give me your phone so I can delete all your
other contacts?

Jungkook wracks his brain. He’s gotta answer at least one of these texts on his own, right? How
embarrassing would it be if Sungwoo met up with him expecting all of Jimin’s wit and getting
Jungkook instead? A bumbling oaf whose farthest experience is sort of groping a dude through his
jeans once.

He inhales, then exhales, and writes: Lucky you, I already pulled the winner. When do you wanna
meet up?

Send me your address and we can meet up right now.

“Holy shit.”

Jimin sits upright, eyes wide and excited. “What? What did he say?”

“He wants to come get me.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

Jimin leaps to his feet, stumbling as he sets his beer aside. “Tell him to give you an hour. I’ll dye
and style your hair while you do your makeup. Pick out an outfit while I get everything ready!”

“Okay.” Jungkook’s nerves go on high alert, his brain going blank for a moment before he can
manage to muddle together a text and then rush for the little wardrobe Jimin let him use.

“Nothing too fancy if you’re going out somewhere together,” Jimin calls from the bathroom.
“Look cute but lowkey. Sungwoo doesn’t like to draw attention to him and his dates.”

Jungkook already wants to lay down and cry. Dates are so complicated and he isn’t even on one
yet. What other date rules does he need to know? He’ll have to ask Jimin as he gets ready or he’ll
definitely make a fool out of himself.

Hell, even with Jimin’s help, he’ll probably look like an idiot.

“Alright, you ready?” Jimin asks, popping his head out of the bathroom door, gloves on. The smile
on his face slips away as Jungkook turns to him, and the slightest spark of hope returns to
Jungkook as they stare at each other.

It’s stupid, but he sort of hopes Jimin will ask him not to go. Not that Jungkook doesn’t want this—
Sungwoo is fun and attractive too, just like Jimin—but if Jimin ever wanted him instead, Jungkook
would drop anyone else in a heartbeat.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” he says, and Jimin waves him into the bathroom with a new smile plastered on.

“Good. Let’s go. We don’t want you to be late!”

And that final sliver of hope is gone as Jungkook follows him into the bathroom.
“Sit, sit,” Jimin says, scooting a footstool over to Jungkook. He plops onto the edge of the bath tub.
“I’ll do your hair. You can use that little mirror there for make up. Did you pick out a good outfit?”

“I think so,” Jungkook says, and he does his best to repress a shiver when Jimin’s fingers run
through his hair. “I don’t know. I’ve never been good with this kind of stuff.”

“You’ll do fine.” Jimin gives his hair a playful tug. “Don’t worry so much. Besides, as long as you
look cute on your knees, Sungwoo won’t care about a damn thing you say tonight.”

Jungkook purses his lips as Jimin begins brushing the dye into his hair. He shouldn’t say anything.
He should keep his mouth shut. But this obviously bothers Jimin, and hurting him is the last thing
Jungkook wants. If Jimin asked him not to go tonight, he would cancel in a second.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asks as he sets his mirror on the edge of the sink, makeup
in his lap.

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Jimin’s clipped tone is anything but okay, and he seems to forget that Jungkook can see him in the
mirror. His usual charming smile is gone.

“I know you don’t like him. And I—” Jungkook sighs and reaches back to stop Jimin as he
vigorously cards through his hair. Jimin meets his reflection’s eyes. “If you don’t want me to go
out with him, Jimin, I won’t. You’re my friend first and there are plenty of other guys I can date.”

Jimin stares at him, lip between his teeth as Jungkook lets go.

“Please don’t ever do anything like that for me,” Jimin says. He brushes in more dye, then grins as
he nuzzles into the untouched side of Jungkook’s hair. “You are way too sweet for him, though,
Kookie.”

Jungkook shies away from his touch, a nervous chuckle slipping out. “I’m not. I’m just…” He
fidgets with a makeup brush, tapping it against the sink. “What happened between you two?”

“I told you. Just stupid drama. He jumped from Taemin to me so fast and I was stupid. I butted into
something I shouldn’t have and this whole whirlwind romance thing Sungwoo always pulls just…
didn’t have a fairytale ending for me. That’s all.”

“Hey.” Jungkook leans back, bumping his arm against the inside of Jimin’s thigh. “You can tell
me. I’d rather know before I see him tonight.”

“You really wanna hear about this?” Jimin asks as he leans around him. Jungkook looks back, their
faces just inches from each other. “It’s not gonna bother you to hear about how the guy you’re into
fucked someone else? Literally and figuratively.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath, forcing his eyes to stay on Jimin’s. Don’t look at his lips. Don’t
look.

“I’m fine with that.”

Jimin smiles, scrunching his nose up as he leans in to bump it against Jungkook’s. It makes
Jungkook’s heart leap into his throat. “You’re a trooper,” Jimin says, then sits back up to work on
his hair. “Where do I even begin?”

“What do you mean he jumped from you to Taemin?”

“Ugh, God.” Jimin sighs. “They had a casual thing together for awhile before I started working
there and then Sungwoo just… 180’d when he saw me and broke off his arrangement with Taemin.
For about half a second, I held back because I thought it would be fucked to go for him right away.
He didn’t make a move. So, yeah, he’s right. I pursued him.”

He tugs at Jungkook’s hair, earning a hiss of pain from him.

“Sorry.” Jimin gently rubs at his head. “Anyway, I was so stupidly flattered that he was willing to
give up what he had with Taemin to be with me that I convinced myself that meant he felt
something. And I thought Taemin wouldn’t care because it was casual. They both insisted it was
casual. I mean, it was a good arrangement, they both got what they wanted out of it… So,
somewhere in my weird, naive little brain, I thought ‘wow, he gave up something really fun and
liberating to make something with me.’ Of course he didn’t actually feel anything, though.”

“So what happened that made you hate him so much?” Jungkook asks as he carefully draws on the
lightest touch of eyeliner. Nothing too obvious. Subtlety is key tonight.

“Felt like I got played. He acted so sweet when we were together and I really thought he liked me.”
Jimin pauses, silently focused on the other side of Jungkook’s hair for a moment. “He totally had
me wrapped around his little finger with all these gifts and compliments, telling me how much he
loved watching me perform, that there’s no one else like me on stage—”

“He’s right about that.”

Jimin chuckles, nuzzling against Jungkook’s cheek. “Look at you. You might give Sungwoo a run
for his money with all this charm. If I didn’t know better,” he tugs his plastic gloves off, “I’d say
you were flirting with me, Jeon Jungkook.”

Jungkook sputters, and Jimin giggles at him as he reaches around, dipping his fingers into some
blush.

“Rosy cheeks look good on you” he says, and carefully pats the blush onto Jungkook. “Anyway,
Sungwoo and I were doing great, honestly. He was taking me out on dates that everyone said he
had never taken anyone on before. I was spending all these nights at his place. We were… really
good together. You know, we clicked in a lot of ways. If you know—”

“I know what you mean.” Blush probably wasn’t necessary when Jungkook’s face turns tomato red
every time he speaks. “So you two broke up? On bad terms, I’m guessing?”

“He just ghosted me one day,” Jimin says, arms around Jungkook, chin on his shoulder as
Jungkook finishes his makeup. “Just stopped talking to me, stopped seeing me. Still showed up to
the club but acted like I didn’t even exist. It was like nothing ever happened between us and then,
after all that, the first time he spoke to me again, he insulted me. Ever since then it’s just been this
stupid push and pull between us. When I started dating my boyfriend at the time, I felt like
Sungwoo was taunting me. Like he was gonna say something to my boyfriend.”

“Say something like what?” Jungkook asks as he sets his makeup aside. He leans into Jimin’s hold,
shamelessly enjoying his attention and his arms around him.

Jimin shrugs. “Anything. My ex was insanely jealous and didn’t like that I danced, even though
dancing at the club was the only reason we could afford rent. And, I mean, what’s really wrong
with it? It’s just dancing, you know? And anytime he was around, Sungwoo just terrorized him,
constantly giving him shit about how he got to watch me on stage every night and my ex didn’t.”
“Fuck.” Jungkook laughs in disbelief as Jimin sits up to check his hair again. “You think he was
just jealous you had a boyfriend? Maybe he did actually like you.”

“You know? I wondered about it,” Jimin says, lifting a strand of Jungkook’s hair. He fidgets with
it, and Jungkook just watches him in the mirror. “But then I realized it was a waste of time. My
trust in him was broken. I couldn’t really care anymore. I guess…” He sighs, eyes meeting with
Jungkook’s in the mirror. “Maybe I’m a little hard on him when it comes to you because I’m
protective. Maybe he won’t be so bad. But I just don’t want you to get hurt like I did.”

“I won’t,” Jungkook promises. He holds up a hand, Jimin reaching over to take hold of it. “I know
people like Sungwoo aren’t the Prince Charming we all wish we could have. But he seems fun. I’ll
be careful, though.”

Jimin smiles, then squeezes Jungkook’s hand again. “Good. As long as you know what you want, I
don’t mind what you do with him.” He grabs Jungkook’s shoulders now, shaking him slightly.
“Just a few more minutes and we’ll rinse this dye out. He’s gonna drop dead when he sees you.”

Jungkook’s heart does that fluttery thing it always does when Jimin compliments him.

In a perfect world, it would be Jimin and Jungkook on this date tonight.

Jimin stands up and stretches, his shirt lifting to expose his stomach. Jungkook averts his eyes. He
hopes Jimin put enough blush on him to hide what he actually feels right now.

“But if Sungwoo does hurt you, Kookie, you tell me. I’m not afraid to go to prison for you.”

Whatever Jungkook thinks he expects, it’s not a bright red convertible screeching up to the curb
where he waits. Sungwoo lounges in the front seat, clicking off his music as he grins at Jungkook.

“You look good,” he says as he eyes Jungkook’s outfit—not too flashy, just like Jimin said. A
simple white shirt, black blazer with a velvet collar, skinny jeans. He could pass as some kind of
owner of an indie tech startup, no problem.

“Thanks,” Jungkook says as he slides into the passenger seat. He feels like any move could ruin
something in this car and, god, he does not want to do that. This thing probably costs more than
he’ll ever make in a lifetime. “You do too. This is—” He gestures nervously at the car, and
Sungwoo laughs.

“I thought this would be more fun than the BMW. That one’s a little more business, this one’s for
when I wanna let my hair down.” Sungwoo hands Jungkook his phone. “Buckle up and pick a
song. We’re going for a ride.”

Jungkook barely manages to snap his seatbelt in and grab the phone before he feels the car lurch
onto the road, slipping somewhat recklessly into the traffic. He clicks through the songs, choosing
one at random and, with a grin, Sungwoo reaches over and turns the volume up, up until it’s almost
deafening.

For the hundredth time since he moved to this city, Jungkook feels like he’s in a movie with the
way the wind blows through his hair—Jimin will be so disappointed to find out his wonderful
styling job is already messed up—music blaring, a load of money in his pocket, and a hot guy
driving him around in a sports car.

What the fuck. How did he get here?

They rush stoplights just before they turn red, take corners too hard, earn more than a few angry
honks, and all the while Jungkook laughs. It’s insane and stupid and he knows Sungwoo is just
doing this to show off. Who cares? It’s fun.

“Alright,” Sungwoo says as they swerve into a parking spot, music off. He grins over at Jungkook.
“As requested. An ‘expensive store’, as I believe you said in your text.”

Jungkook blushes from head to toe as they hop out, Sungwoo circling around to straighten out his
jacket for him. “Yeah, well, I’m not super experienced in… fancy stuff. So I had to leave it up to
you.”

Sungwoo brushes his fingers through Jungkook’s hair, fixing the windswept mess it’s become.

“Anyway, I wanted your opinion.”

“On?”

“What I should buy for next Saturday night,” Jungkook says. He tries to act nonchalant, hands in
his back pockets, hip cocked out. He’s not exactly brimming with confidence but he hopes he can at
least appear to be. “Since I flaked out last Saturday.”

The crooked grin on Sungwoo’s face says it’s working. “We’ll find something you like. Follow
me. Oh, and,” he spins around to face Jungkook, a look of seriousness on his face now, “if we
happen to run into anyone I know, you’re a friend and I’m here to help you pick something out for
your girlfriend.”

Jungkook blinks. “Um. Okay.”

“Sorry. I—” Sungwoo sighs, nervously rubbing at the back of his neck. “I know that’s probably
not what you were expecting tonight but… that’s business. People from work can’t know about me
and I see them here occasionally. They won’t suspect a thing if you play along.”

“Okay,” Jungkook says, and suddenly he feels like he’s been pushed right back into the closet. But
it’s fine. They can still have fun. And he gets it. Sungwoo can’t risk his whole career for a couple
of dates. He just wishes he had been told ahead of time.

“I… should have said something about this to you before. I’m sorry. You—” Sungwoo purses his
lips, the guilt obvious enough that Jungkook can’t feel too upset with him. “I can just take you back
home if you don’t want this. But I hope… that’s not the case.”

Jungkook has to smile. Sungwoo looks so anxious suddenly, he can’t be all bad. Maybe he learned
his lesson with Jimin. “I think I can survive one night back in the closet.”

Sungwoo chuckles, relieve as he nods toward the store. “Alright. Okay. Um, after you, then.”

They head in, side by side, to a fancy little boutique, glass windows facing out at the road.
Jungkook feels out of place here. He’s seen places like this in movies, but never thought he would
set foot in one in real life. He feels like he’s acting out a scene of Pretty Woman right now. It’s not
perfect, but he maybe kind of understands why Taehyung does this now.

“So, the floor is yours,” Sungwoo says, gesturing around the room as he slowly spins to face
Jungkook. “What are you looking for?”

Jungkook has no clue, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take the chance to touch every damn thing
in here. He’ll never have another chance like this, so he asks to try on every watch that catches his
eye and touches every silky shirt he can reach.

“Won’t it be obvious I’m not buying something for my girlfriend if I try stuff on?” he asks as they
pass a rack of sheer shirts. He flicks one of the sleeves toward Sungwoo. “I feel like this could be
nice, but…”

He shrugs casually as he walks on, risking a glance in a mirror to see the way Sungwoo grins. All
Jungkook is doing right now is copying the way he’s seen the other guys at the club flirt. He has
no idea what works, what Sungwoo is into, or what’s too far now that he knows he’s not out.

“I think we’re safe,” Sungwoo says as he pulls a shirt from the rack. “I think the white one would
look nice. This should be the right size, yeah?”

“Should be,” Jungkook says as the other man holds the shirt up to his chest, comparing. He
snatches it away and starts backing toward the dressing rooms. “I guess we’ll have to see.”

This isn’t so bad, he thinks as he slips inside a room and changes. Even if they have to be a little
secretive, it still feels like a date. It’s more than he’s ever had before. Sungwoo is clearly looking
to get laid, but whatever. At least he’s willing to go out and have a little fun first, rather than just
taking Jungkook home for a one night stand.

“So,” Jungkook says through the door, quiet enough that only Sungwoo should hear. He can see
his feet right on the other side, leaning beside the door. “If you’re worried about people finding
out, why do you take people out on dates?”

“I don’t. Usually.”

Jungkook pauses with the shirt halfway over his head. “Then why did you tonight?” And when you
were with Jimin?

“Because you seemed really excited about going out. It’s not that much of a risk. I wanted to give
you the fun night out that you deserve.”

Tugging the shirt on, Jungkook steps out and faces Sungwoo, arms crossed over his chest to hide
himself at first. “That’s a lot of effort for a hookup.”

“A hookup?” Sungwoo lifts a brow at him and mimics Jungkook’s pose. “Who says this is a
hookup?”

“Isn’t it?”

“What if I said I actually like you?”

“I’d say you’re just trying to get in my pants a little quicker.”

Sungwoo smirks. “Is it working?”

With a roll of his eyes, Jungkook lets his arms fall to his sides, revealing his chest through the
sheer shirt. Sungwoo doesn’t look though, he smiles straight at Jungkook.

“I do like you. You’re different than the others,” he says, and then he lets his eyes wander. With a
look of approval, he reaches out and slightly lifts the shirt with a finger. “Knew it would look good
on you. Do you like it?”

Jungkook nods, words escaping him. This isn’t what he expected from Sungwoo at all, and he’s not
even certain it’s genuine. Is he just flirting or does he mean it?

“Then you should get it.” Sungwoo gestures at the dressing room. “We’re not done yet. If we’re
doing this, you’re at least getting a whole new outfit.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes as he heads back in, the blush in his cheeks betraying him. It’s still weird,
thinking of letting someone spend this much money on him. But it is fun. Sungwoo is fun. And
he’s into Jungkook, for some reason. That’s more than Jungkook can say about some people.

Jungkook stumbles into the apartment with a smile on his face, bags of clothes hanging off his
wrists. The TV is still on and, to Jungkook’s surprise, Jimin sleeps soundly on the pull-out bed. He
tries to steady himself so as not to wake Jimin up, but maybe he had had a little too much to drink
with Sungwoo after their shopping trip and maybe Sungwoo cut the date a little short to let him
sleep it off.

He drops his bags near the door and heads for the wardrobe, changing out of his clothes as he goes
and switching into pajamas. Another old film plays as he readies himself for bed, clumsily taking
his make up off.

It’s a noir film, that much he knows. He’s seen it before, but his drunken mind can’t remember the
details aside from the frustratingly oblivious protagonists who never seemed to recognize they
were in love with each other until the very end.

Jungkook turns it off as he crawls into bed.

Jimin looks too comfortable to disturb, so Jungkook carefully pulls the covers back, sliding in
beside him. As hard as he tries, Jimin still stirs after a moment, and then grumbles, “Shit. Sorry.
Fell asleep watching a movie.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jungkook stretches out on his side, watching Jimin as he shifts around to
face him.

“How did it go?”

“Really good.”

Jimin’s lips pinch together. “Are you drunk?”

“Little bit. Sungwoo walked me to the door. Made sure I was okay.”

“Did he do that thing where he coaxes you into a kiss by running his hand along your arm?” Jimin
asks, then imitates what he means, drawing his fingers up and down Jungkook’s arm with a grin. It
makes Jungkook shiver. “It’s really corny.”

Jungkook chuckles. “He didn’t. We didn’t even kiss.”

“Oh?” Jimin’s hand goes still. “Really? That’s…”

“Said he liked me,” Jungkook mutters. He can feel himself drifting off.

“Oh.” There’s a pause, and then Jimin starts to move away. “I’ll let you sleep it off, Kookie.
Goodnight.”

Jungkook scrambles for Jimin, tugging at his shirt and pulling him back into the bed. “Stay,” he
 says, already wrapping Jimin up in a hug, leg slung over his hip. “You’re warm.”

“Cute” Jimin says with a quiet laugh. His arms loop around Jungkook as well. “You’re so fucking
cute.”

That’s the last thing Jungkook hears before he drifts off.

Chapter End Notes

Come find me on Twitter, y'all!

 Of Jealousy & Gentle Touches
Chapter Notes

Playlist | Padlet

See the end of the chapter for more notes

♪♡♪
“Ready? One more try. We need to nail it this time.”

Seokjin snaps his fingers as he turns from the stage, back to his seat. From beside Jungkook,
Yeonjun grumbles, “There’s nothing wrong with our performance. These acts just don’t have any
substance.”

They’re all struggling lately, trying to reboot the show, bring in something new. Nothing ever
seems to work. Seokjin refuses to admit he’s reached a creative block, and Yoongi just seems too
frustrated to try anymore. They need something fresh, something to keep people interested. Their
regulars are always going to stick around, but they aren’t bringing in enough new crowds.

“I’ll talk to them again later,” Hoseok says, and then the music starts back up.

Jungkook feels distracted, his mind racing with ideas and worries. There are so many directions
they could take the show, but would anyone listen to him if he spoke up? Are his ideas even good
enough to catch their attention? And what if they aren’t? What if they can’t save the show, they go
broke, and he loses what’s practically his dream job?

Maybe it’s a little bit selfish. But not entirely. He also doesn’t want to see Seokjin and Yoongi lose
everything, or for anyone else to lose their jobs. Everyone here loves this place.

He makes another misstep, trodding on Taemin’s toes, and the music stops abruptly.

“Alright. You know what? We’ll call it a night,” Yoongi says as Seokjin fumes.

“Yoongi—” Jungkook starts, taking his chance, but Yoongi waves him off immediately.

“Not right now,” he says, leaving Jungkook at the edge of the stage.

He sighs. The other dancers meander behind him as they gather their things, Jimin stopping to lean
his chin on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“Let’s go home,” he says, then tugs at Jungkook’s shirt with a smile. “Don’t worry about it. It’s
just a creative slump. We’ll figure something new out and everyone will be right back to normal.
C’mon.”

“Wait.” Jungkook catches his wrist and pulls him back. He clasps Jimin’s hand between both of his
own, like some lovestruck pair of teens as they stare at each other. Everyday, Jungkook questions
again if this could be something more.

His phone chimes from his bag as a reminder that he’s already got plans tonight, warning him off
staying in with Jimin to test the waters again. He doesn’t know why he keeps trying. Every time
they get a little too close, Jimin pulls away.

“Can you help me with one part of the routine?” Jungkook asks as Jimin walks backward across
the stage, pulling him along. “I’ve really been struggling with it—”

“The part where Taemin kneels for you?” Jimin asks, his smile brighter than the stage lights. “I
noticed you were having trouble. I’ll help. I’m your ride home, anyway.”

Jimin pulls him into place in the middle of the stage as the others pile into the dressing room.

“It’s the spin that gets me,” Jungkook explains. “When I have to spin and he drops down, I keep
getting my leg into the wrong place and he can’t grab it quick enough. That move happens so fast.”
“It is a really quick step. Here.” Jimin turns Jungkook away from him, then reaches around to grab
his thigh. Way too close to his dick. Way, way too close. It almost makes Jungkook twitch. “When
you spin, bring this leg back at a sharper angle. Don’t swing it out at all. Back, then spin, lift this
foot when you reach this point. I know it feels early, but if you do that— Try it.”

Jungkook does as Jimin directs, hoping he actually does it right, considering how distracted he had
been by Jimin’s hand. He spins, lifting his foot exactly at the moment Jimin said, Jimin dropping
down as he goes.

All he sees when he turns all the way around is Jimin on his knees in front of him. He knows he’s
supposed to be looking out at where the audience will be. They both are.

But he’s staring down at Jimin.

Jimin is staring up at him.

His fingers slide from Jungkook’s hip to his thigh, warm as he traces all the way down to his knee
and then hooks behind it in time with his spin. Jungkook feels his knees almost buckle when Jimin
yanks his leg forward, just like the choreography calls for. But Jungkook doesn’t think he’s
supposed to feel breath on the inside of his thigh. He doesn’t think his shorts are supposed to be
hitched this far up.

It all ends too soon when Jimin stands up suddenly. He nods, breathless, his face so close to
Jungkook’s he almost really pulls him into a kiss this time.

“That was good,” Jimin says.

“Yeah. It was. Feels better than when I did it with Taemin. I think I… work with you better.”
That’s a lie. He works just fine with everyone. He just wants to work with Jimin more.

“I bet Taemin would be fine with switching places,” Jimin bursts out suddenly, almost too
enthusiastic. It startles Jungkook. “It wouldn’t change much for us. We know the whole routine,
backward and forward.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Jungkook’s lips turn up in a shy smile. Jimin’s fingers trail up his arm, lip between his teeth. They
just stare at each other, a tension in the air that Jungkook definitely can’t be imagining this time.
It’s there. No doubt.

How stupid could he be to not realize? Jimin is absolutely into him.

Right?

Maybe?

There’s a whistle from across the room and they jump away from each other. Jungkook whips
around to find Sungwoo standing at the door with a grin on his face. He lifts a brow at Jungkook.

“Ready to go?”

“I thought I was driving you home,” Jimin says, and Jungkook’s heart sinks like a stone when he
sees his face. He looks disappointed, sad. Fuck.
“That was the original plan,” Sungwoo cuts in before Jungkook can speak. He crosses the room,
leans on the stage, and shoots Jimin a wink. “But I wanted to get a head start on our plans tonight.
So I thought I’d just come here.”

“I’ve been— I’ve been practicing, though. I was gonna shower before meeting up with you—”

“You can shower at my place.” Sungwoo nods toward the door. “Grab your stuff. I have a surprise
for you.”

Jungkook wants to apologize but Jimin leaves too soon for that. He brushes past and heads
backstage, leaving Jungkook in the middle of the stage. He lets out an awkward laugh. “I’ll just get
changed and meet you outside.”

“Take your time. I’ll be in the car. Hey,” he calls after Jungkook, stopping him halfway across the
stage. “You look good with your hair pulled back like that.”

He gives Sungwoo a bashful smile before grabbing his bag and rushing off the stage. He heads
straight for Jimin’s spot, but he’s long gone—his makeup bag packed up and a scarf left behind,
forgotten.

Jungkook sighs.

He’s really dug himself in deep this time.

Or maybe digging in deep was a good choice.

If it gets him professional massages and a long night soaking in a hot tub, digging in is a great idea.
The last thing he expected was to walk into Sungwoo’s apartment for the first time and
immediately be greeted by a masseuse. But he’s not complaining. Not at all, especially not as they
lounge in Sungwoo’s hot tub.

Jungkook’s bones feel like liquid.

“Feel any better?” Sungwoo asks, and Jungkook gives a sleepy nod. “You mentioned practice has
been rough lately. Figured a massage tonight would be better than going out or doing anything
strenuous.”

“Strenuous?” Jungkook lifts a brow at him, smirking as he sinks a little lower into the water.
“Can’t imagine what strenuous activities you could be thinking of doing with us alone at your
apartment.”

Sungwoo shrugs, feigning innocence as he reaches for his drink. The grin on his face is playful
though, joking. Jungkook has grown comfortable with him in the past weeks they’ve been spending
time together. Dating? Can he call it that? Who knows? But it’s fun, whatever it is, and Jungkook
is sort of enjoying playing hard to get, watching Sungwoo try to charm him.

Sure, he has Jimin’s blessing, but that doesn’t change the fact that Sungwoo did hurt Jimin in the
past, so of course he’s made Sungwoo work for this so far.

Admittedly, it’s driving him a little crazy to keep this game up, though.

He can’t pretend he’s not insanely attracted to Sungwoo too.

“You want another drink?” Sungwoo asks, and Jungkook peeks at him with one eye before settling
in again.

“Trying to get me drunk now? You’re that desperate for a lay?”

Sungwoo chuckles. “I’ve learned by now that this’ll take effort,” he says, and Jungkook can hear
the water as he climbs out. “You really know how to make a guy work for even a kiss.”

“It’s fun watching you squirm,” Jungkook teases, earning another laugh as Sungwoo leaves. He
kicks his feet through the water, leaning back against the jet to let the bubbles hit his back.

There’s still a slight sting of guilt every time he thinks of Jimin. He knows things ended badly for
him and Sungwoo, he knows it bothers Jimin, yet at the same time, Jimin keeps encouraging him.
He keeps insisting it’s fine. And Jungkook does like Sungwoo. He has fun with him. So if Jimin is
going to insist, why should Jungkook not enjoy himself?

“Well, since you didn’t answer,” Sungwoo says as he slips back into the water, “I took the liberty
of just making an extra drink anyway.”

“Told you you were trying to get me drunk,” Jungkook says, but he turns to take the drink anyway.

“What can I say? You’re making me desperate.” Sungwoo always just plays along. That’s one of
the things Jungkook enjoys about him. He’s easy to be around, easy to talk to. All fun and no
worries.

Jungkook takes a sip of his drink as Sungwoo sets his aside and relaxes in the tub, lazing against
the side. Jungkook abandons his drink, taking the chance while Sungwoo has his eyes closed to
move a little closer. Now is his chance. He’s nervous as hell. He’s never kissed anyone without
being heavily drunk and hidden in the shadows of a bustling party.

He doesn’t let himself over think it, though, grabbing Sungwoo’s chin and pulling him close. The
suddenness of it has Sungwoo frozen at first, eyes wide when Jungkook pulls back. Slowly, he
grins, almost abashed at being caught so off guard, and then curls a hand into Jungkook’s hair.

It’s almost embarrassing how much more obvious his experience is than Jungkook’s, yet it feels
too good for him to really worry about it.

Sungwoo kisses at just the right pace, with just the right angle, the right pressure, the right amount
of tug to Jungkook’s hair. The right amount of tongue too, once he’s gotten Jungkook to follow his
lips in perfect sync, finding the right rhythm. Tongue is something Jungkook only ever experienced
in a drunken haze, when his make out partner was too sloppy to make it feel good.

But Sungwoo. He tilts Jungkook’s head back, parts his lips and lets his tongue meet with
Jungkook’s in just a quick tease before pulling back. He makes it a game, every touch sending
little sparks through Jungkook. There’s nothing rushed about this, though definitely passionate. He
can tell how much Sungwoo has been waiting, but he never pushes it. He makes every flick of his
tongue count, every peck to the corner of Jungkook’s lips, every kiss down his neck.

That’s where he pauses, fingers dancing down Jungkook’s spine. Jungkook can feel his smirk
against his skin, then his teeth, and then suction as he leaves a little hickey on Jungkook’s neck.

He leans back to admire his work, grinning as he draws a finger over it.

“Should be able to cover that with makeup for work, right?”

Jungkook licks his lips. He would be lying if he said he doesn’t feel a slight thrill at the way
Sungwoo so casually plays with him like this. Experienced for sure. He knows exactly what he’s
doing, teasing Jungkook. Goddammit, he probably realizes that Jungkook is a whole hell of a lot
more horny and repressed than he is, so he can get away with doing this.

“Should be able to,” Jungkook finally answers.

“Shame.” Sungwoo sips his drink again. “I’d kind of like seeing everyone wonder who gave that to
you.”

He doesn’t get another taste of his drink.

Jungkook is on him in a second flat.

He trips as soon as he steps back inside the apartment. Trips over a bag and nearly falls face first.
He’s barely tipsy, but apparently it’s enough to make him stumble as he untangles himself from the
plastic handles of the garbage bag. He frowns down at it, then looks to Jimin’s room.

His light is still on. He can hear videos playing.

“Jimin?” he calls out, earning a lazy hum in response. “Why is there garbage by the door? I almost
died just now.”

Jimin pokes his head out with a frown. “It was your turn to take the garbage out today.”

“Shit. I forgot.” Jungkook grins sheepishly as he meets Jimin halfway, leaning in for a hug, but
Jimin dodges it.

“Yeah. You also forgot to wash your own dishes yesterday.”

Jungkook glances at a stack of plates and bowls in the kitchen. “I’ll do that tomorrow. I’m… sorry
I forgot the garbage, though. It’s just a little trash.”

“It’s always ‘just a little’ something these days. Just a little trash, just a few dirty dishes, just a little
water on the bathroom floor. It’s not a little anymore when it happens constantly.”

“Well, fuck, sorry,” Jungkook huffs as he passes Jimin. He drops his stuff onto his bed, still
unmade from earlier today. “If it bothers you so much, you could have said something earlier.”

“I’ve been saying things for days, Jungkook, you just don’t listen. You’re always running off with
Sungwoo. I can’t even—”

“I’ll take care of it all tomorrow, okay? As soon as we’re off work.” Jungkook flicks on the lamp,
dropping onto his bed to strip off his clothes. All the soothing from the massage and his night with
Sungwoo fades fast. “But I’m tired right now, okay?”

Jimin doesn’t make a peep. He gives up. Or so Jungkook thinks, until he looks up at him.

He stands with his arms crossed tight, eyes locked on Jungkook’s neck.

Oh, right. The hickeys.

“Seems like you enjoyed yourself tonight,” Jimin says before he snatches up one of Jungkook’s
discarded shirts from the back of a chair. He tosses it onto the bed.
“Yeah. I did.” Jungkook tugs off his jacket and shirt, bare chest exposed with all the little marks
left by Sungwoo. At some point it had turned into a game as they cuddled up in the hot tub, darting
in to try and sneak another mark onto the other. It was fun. They had fun, and Jimin isn’t going to
ruin what’s been a perfect night so far.

“Well, good. I’m glad. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

Those words are like a kick to Jungkook’s heart, makes his chest feel like it collapses. “What the
fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what it means.”

“You said you didn’t care if I saw him—”

“I don’t,” Jimin says as he storms toward his room. He doesn’t make it far before Jungkook chucks
his shirt at him, smacking him in the back of the head.

“Then what the fuck is your problem?” Jungkook snaps. He knows he’s being irrational. Or maybe
Jimin is. Maybe he’s more than just a little tipsy. He should shut his mouth. He’s just making this
worse. “You’re acting like a dick right now.”

Jimin groans as he spins around to face Jungkook. “I’m trying to look out for you and you just keep
—” He waves his hands around the apartment. “You’re barely taking care of your basic life
anymore. All you do is hang out with Sungwoo. And just because he’s fun doesn’t mean he’s good
for you. I still don’t trust him not to hurt you.”

“Then why encourage me to go out with him?”

“I wouldn’t say I encouraged you—”

“That’s exactly what you did.” Jungkook mimics his posture, arms crossed. Jimin won’t look at
him, practically pouting, and all Jungkook wants to do is grab him and shake him.

He’s so annoying. So fucking frustrating. Could he possibly send any more confusing signals? Is
he jealous of Jungkook or Sungwoo? Is he just overprotective? Bitter? Still holding onto grudges?

Jimin purses his lips, like he’s fighting with himself before he finally blurts out, “Did you sleep
with him?”

Even in his tipsy haze, Jungkook can manage to ask, “Is that any of your business?”

“No. It’s just— Like I said, I don’t completely trust him.” Jimin doesn’t look so angry now, more
like ashamed. He stares at the wall, a stubborn set to his jaw. Maybe he is just worried. Maybe
that’s all it is. Jungkook almost feels bad for getting so angry. He had been ready for a full on fight.

“I didn’t sleep with him.”

“Okay.”

Jungkook wonders just how far he can push, if he can make Jimin admit what’s really bothering
him. “He kissed me.”

“Okay,” Jimin repeats.

“He wanted me to sleep with him.”

Jimin goes rigid, teeth clenching.

“Would it bother you if I did?” Jungkook asks, and Jimin ignores him. “What if you’re wrong and
he really does like me?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he does,” Jimin says as he picks up the shirt Jungkook had thrown. He sets it
back on the chair. “Maybe you’re the golden boy that can change him. Heal his blackened soul.”

Jungkook chuckles. “Yeah, maybe I am.”

“Well,” Jimin heads for his room, “you think about that real hard before you settle on it.”

“Okay, what is your problem?” Jungkook snaps, but Jimin keeps walking. “I know you don’t like
him but you’re acting fucking weird. You can’t just boss me around all the time. And I’m not
gonna stop seeing him just because you—”

The bedroom door slams shut, leaving Jungkook alone. He drops back onto his bed with a huff,
staring at the door as if he expects it to open back up. He almost hopes it will—that Jimin will fling
it open and rush over to hug him. They’ll both apologize, make up, and cuddle up to watch a movie
like they usually do.

But no matter how long he stares, it doesn’t open, and he’s left to strip off the rest of his clothes
and curl up alone. Every bit of peace he had felt earlier in the night is gone. His muscles are stiff,
his head aches.

It’ll only be worse in the morning.

And he’ll have to face Jimin’s moody ass again.

Fuck.

♪♡♪

‘Tense’ is a very understated way to describe how Jimin and Jungkook are at work after their fight.
That would suggest that maybe they had a couple tiffs, maybe a few snipes, maybe they just aren’t
clinging to each other during breaks like usual or swapping makeup or sharing coffee.

No. No, that’s not what happens at all. Instead, it turns into them snapping at everyone around
them, practically biting their heads off if they’re even a beat off for one part of a routine. There’s a
bubble around each of them that no one dares to set foot in. They keep a wide berth around
Jungkook and an even wider one around Jimin.

He’s like a shark. As soon as he smells blood, he attacks. He even scares Jungkook when he loses it
on Yeonjun for ending a performance with the wrong pose.

Jimin never loses his temper with Yeonjun.

This is Jungkook’s doing. At least in part. Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed Jimin the way he did,
maybe he shouldn’t have rubbed it in his face that he had a good time with Sungwoo, knowing their
history. Maybe he shouldn’t have shirked his responsibilities at the apartment.

But maybe Jimin shouldn’t have lost his fucking mind at him before giving him a chance to fix it.
Even so, they should talk. If they don’t, it’ll only be a matter of time before one of them shoves the
other off the stage. But it absolutely terrifies Jungkook to think about talking facing this.

So he hangs out in the back hallway during his break and makes out with Sungwoo instead.
Admittedly not helpful in any way except that it calms the anxiety roiling around in Jungkook’s
stomach. It’s easy to forget the inevitable blowup between him and Jimin later when he has a
tongue so far down his throat he can’t even tell which one is his and which one is Sungwoo’s.

His costume is askew beneath his hoodie, his hair a goddamn wreck where it’s wrapped around
Sungwoo’s fingers, and he’s fairly certain he could get off just like this if he didn’t have to get
back to work.

“Time’s up?” Sungwoo asks through more wet kisses, his knee wedging itself between Jungkook’s
legs. It makes Jungkook jolt forward, knocking Sungwoo against the wall and earning a laugh from
him.

“Yeah,” Jungkook groans, slumping against the other man. “And you just had to do that right as I
have to go back on stage.”

Sungwoo grins. His fingers curl under Jungkook’s chin, lip between his teeth as his eyes drag over
Jungkook’s face, hazy and allured. “Payback for what you did to me yesterday.”

“Rude.” Jungkook darts in for a kiss, then slips away from Sungwoo before he can make this even
harder for him. Figuratively and literally. “I’ll see you tonight to finish this,” he says, but god he
can’t think of tonight if he doesn’t want to reveal way too much on stage in the next few minutes.

“Have fun out there.”

“Ha-ha.”

Jungkook thinks of everything he can to will himself down. Coming face to face with a frowning
Jimin in the dressing room is more than enough. His mood instantly sours and the guilt sets back in
as Jimin takes in the sight of his smudged makeup.

“You really should be more careful about that,” Jimin says as he shoves a costume into Jungkook’s
arms. “You’ll have to hurry to be ready in time.”

That’s all Jungkook gets from him before he tries to zip out of the room.

“Wait.” Hands tangle in shirts and Jungkook clumsily drags Jimin back, both of them stumbling
over discarded costume pieces the others have left on the floor. He pulls Jimin against his chest,
trapping his wrists between them even as Jimin tries to tug away from him.

Jimin practically pouts at him, the narrow glare of his eyes significantly less intimidating than
Jungkook expected. It’s honestly a little cute, because there’s no real hatred behind it. Jimin just
looks like he’s trying to be angry and it’s funny.

“Can we talk?”

The look on Jimin’s face makes Jungkook feel like an absolute moron. And maybe he is.

“Not right now. We need to be onstage in, like, two minutes.”

“Can we talk tonight?”

“Don’t you have another date tonight?”

For god knows what reason, Jimin steps closer as he says that. He’s damn near flattened himself
against Jungkook, pushing him into the wall. An exact replica of how Jungkook had had Sungwoo
pinned only moments ago. Is he doing this on purpose? Did he see them?

This is not helping his situation down below.

“Yeah, but I’ll be home later.”

“Mm-hm.” Jimin lifts a brow at him. “So you wanna talk? About what?”

“About our fight. And everything. I don’t like us being like this. I miss what we were.”

Jimin’s brows shoot up further. “What we were?” he asks, whispering the words so close to
Jungkook he might as well print them on his lips. “What were we?”

Is Jungkook completely gross for being so turned on by this immediately after making out with
another man? It’s really not helping that Jimin is doing almost the same thing, his knee teasing its
way between Jungkook’s thighs. His eyes even drift down, down to Jungkook’s lips, and fuck
Jungkook really wishes it had been those lips kissing him earlier.

“Friends?” Jungkook ventures. “Roommates?”

Jimin looks like he snaps out of a trance as he backs away. “Get dressed and fix your face.”

And he’s gone in a swish, leaving Jungkook to sag against the wall with a groan. He’s reaching
dangerous levels of horny and he is absolutely going to die at this rate.

♪♡♪

“This,” Sungwoo says as he sets a glass down beside Jungkook, “is not the fancy stuff we had the
other night. We wiped that out. So we’re going with second-rate vodka tonight.”

Jungkook chuckles into the glass. “Still better than anything I could afford on my own.” He sips—
yeah, way better—and leans back on the glass wall of the balcony. “Fuck, it feels so good out here
right now.”

He tilts his head back, glass abandoned, hands gripping the rails. At this rate, he might tip
completely over the balcony and fall. Fuck, the breeze through his hair makes it worth it. It feels
amazing.

“Okay, that’s far enough,” Sungwoo says with a nervous chuckle. He pulls Jungkook back to
safety. “You’re not drunk enough yet for me to convince anyone it was an accident. They’ll
definitely accuse me of murder if you fall.”

Laughter mingles between their kisses as Jungkook tugs Sungwoo against the glass wall. Sungwoo
barely manages to keep his drink from spilling on both of them. It’s tempting to just chuck the
glass off the balcony and yank Sungwoo back inside. Fuck the flirting, the kissing, the playful
touching. He’s so goddamn horny and he’s more than ready for this.

But then Sungwoo breaks the kiss too soon, slips his arms around Jungkook’s waist, and just smiles
at him. Is he not shamefully turned on by the way their hips seem to be connected by a hinge? Is he
not desperate to get their clothes off like Jungkook?

“How are things with Jimin?”

Well, now Jungkook doesn’t feel like fucking.

Or maybe he does.

Maybe thinking about his infuriating little spat with Jimin makes him even hornier, thinking about
the way Jimin pressed him up against the wall, picturing that menacing frown he gets when he’s
pissed off. He kind of likes the way Jimin manhandled him earlier and he loves the fact that, even
throughout this stupid quarrel, he’s caught Jimin checking on him in the middle of the night and
tucking his blankets up around his chin as Jungkook pretends to sleep.

“Jimin?” Jungkook asks. Might as well play dumb and hope Sungwoo will drop the topic. He’s
very confused about this weird stirring in his chest and stomach and other regions as he thinks
about Jimin hate-fucking him into his mattress. Never thought he would be into something like
that. Then again, he seems to be into everything when it comes to Jimin.

He is really horny if he’s thinking about this while holding Sungwoo. Is that what he’s going to
think about if they fuck tonight? Is there more meaning behind how he imagines it being Jimin
instead whenever Sungwoo kisses him tonight? How drunk is he? He’s only had one drink and he’s
already losing it.

“Come on, Jungkook. Everyone and their mother could tell you two were pissed at each other
tonight.” Sungwoo tries to smile, but it’s obviously faked. He’s bothered by this. “Was it about
me?”

“No,” Jungkook lies. “I mean, not entirely.”

Sungwoo nods. “But partially. Can I help?”

“No.” The truth this time. Involving Sungwoo directly will just hurt Jimin more, no doubt. “He
just…”

“Doesn’t like me.” For a moment, Sungwoo almost looks hurt, but then he plasters that confident
smile he always has back onto his face. “I would say, for the sake of your friendship, that if you
wanted to cool things down with me then I’d be okay with it.”

“But?”

“But I don’t think I would be.” That smile drops and Sungwoo chews on the inside of his cheek.
“But I’d try to be if that’s what you needed. But,” he says again with a chuckle, “I also wanna say
that… it’s not your responsibility to make him feel okay. You’re allowed to do what you wanna do,
despite whatever tantrum he throws. You can put your feelings first, you know?”

Of course he knows that, but he doesn’t want to hurt Jimin. It would hurt him to hurt Jimin, so
wouldn’t putting his own feelings first mean considering Jimin’s as well?

He nods despite the questions rattling around in his head. “I know. I will.”

“Good.” Sungwoo smiles again, contagious as always. He has this charm about him that Jungkook
can’t resist—it’s in the sparkle of his eyes, it’s in the way he trades playful jabs for considerate
musings at exactly the right time, it’s in the way he reaches up and brushes Jungkook’s hair away
from his face, and the…

The…

Oh fuck.

Jungkook’s eyes follow Sungwoo’s hand as it reaches toward him and his brain tries to rationalize
what he’s seeing as he feels it card through his hair. Knuckles trace down his cheek, a thumb
brushes across his lips. He’s frozen as Sungwoo kisses him.

Jungkook doesn’t close his eyes. He feels like crying. He’s not imagining that pale band of skin
around Sungwoo’s left ring finger—signs that there’s usually something there. Something there
often and recent enough to leave a mark.

Their kiss is a brief touch before Jungkook turns away. He shakes his head, sliding along the glass
wall to slip away from Sungwoo’s caging arms. His heart sinks into his stomach and dies.

“I can’t—” Jungkook shakes his head as Sungwoo reaches out to him again. He looks confused.

“What— I’m sorry. If you’re nervous—”

“I’m not.” He is. But that’s not the problem. He looks at Sungwoo’s hand again and feels sick to
his stomach. “I— You… never told me you were married.”

Sungwoo seems caught off guard, an anxious smile working its way onto his lips. He shakes his
head. “Shit,” he huffs, and leans back on the wall. “Didn’t think you would notice.”

Jungkook purses his lips and nods, staring holes into the floor. “Yeah, well, it’s what my dad used
to do too, so… I would recognize that move anywhere.”

“Ah.” Sungwoo takes a deep breath. “Well, I’m gonna guess your dad didn’t have an arrangement
with your mom.”

“An arrangement?” Jungkook balks. “Are you telling me your wife knows you bring guys home
all the time?”

“Oh, I don’t bring them home. I bring them to the condo,” Sungwoo says with a gesture inside.
“But never home. She doesn’t either. We have our own separate places.”

“You both just fuck other people?”

Sungwoo reaches for his drink, lifting a playful brow at Jungkook as he takes a sip. “If you don’t
believe me, I can call her. She can tell you herself.”

“What— No— I can’t—”

“Jungkook—”

“I can’t do this. I’m sorry.” Jungkook launches away from the balcony toward the glass doors, but
a hand catches his wrist and spins him around.

“Jungkook, let me—”

“It feels wrong.” Jungkook tugs away from him, hands up as he backs away, but Sungwoo moves
with him. “I can’t go behind someone’s back like that—”
“It’s not behind her back if she knows. Jungkook.” Sungwoo sets his drink aside and catches
Jungkook’s hands again, pulling him closer. “It’s really not a big deal. It’s nothing. We married for
wealth and appearances, status—”

“What is this, the Middle Ages?” Jungkook says with a huff. “You don’t have to marry people
you’re not in love with, you know?”

“We didn’t have to, no. But it was better for both of us and better for our families. We grew up
together. We knew each other’s vices—”

“Vices?” Jungkook yanks away but Sungwoo chases after him, soothing hands sliding along his
arms. Jungkook wants to break his fucking wrists right now. “That’s what you think being gay is?
A vice?”

No, that’s not what I meant—”

Jungkook gives him a skeptical look.

“Okay, that’s what I meant but I didn’t mean it.”

Jungkook’s eyes narrow.

“Fuck. I’m sorry, Jungkook. I should have told you. I should have—”

“Yeah. That’s an understatement.”

Sungwoo pulls him close again. “Listen, you have every reason not to believe me, but I swear she
knows and we both agreed to this. She’s fine with it, I’m fine with it. We agreed to this when I
proposed to her and it’s good. It works for us. She gets to have her fun. I get to have mine—”

Jungkook leans away from him. He wants to scream but every bit of him feels like putty, and not in
a good way. His body wants to give out. He wants to collapse to the floor and scream into oblivion.
This is just his luck. First sort-of-boyfriend and the guy’s been lying to him the whole time.

He’s been lying and Jungkook pushed away his best and only friend here to defend Sungwoo.

“Is that what I am? Fun?” he asks, but it doesn’t sound as tough or as menacing as he hopes. He’s
not Jimin.

Sungwoo chuckles, running his hands down Jungkook’s arms. “I think being with you is fun,” he
says, and Jungkook rolls his eyes. “That’s a good thing. That’s what all this is supposed to be
about, right? You just wanted some fun too, I thought.”

“I did. But not with a married man.”

“I’m not intimate with her, if that helps at all,” he says. It doesn’t. “Neither of us even swing that
way. We simply married to help each other blend in.”

Jungkook pulls away from his touch. “Let me rephrase. I wanted to have fun but not with a liar,” he
says. That’s more like how he wants to sound. Tough, cold, cut off from the tumultuous emotions
boiling up inside him. “It’s not about whether you fuck women too or the fact that you’re in the
closet. You lied to me.”

“Wasn’t really a lie. I just didn’t tell you—”

“Is that really any better?” Jungkook snaps. “What else have you just not told me? How much
more will you not tell me in the future?”

That shuts Sungwoo up well enough. He won’t look Jungkook in the eyes, hands in his pockets as
he nods. “I understand.” He steps aside, as if giving Jungkook the OK to walk out. So he does.
When he reaches the sliding glass doors, Sungwoo says, “For the record, I am sorry. I wasn’t
trying to hurt you.”

For the shortest second, Jungkook almost graces him with a response he doesn’t deserve. But then
he slips through the door and lets it slide shut behind him, a meager barrier between them that does
nothing to hide the way he gulps down the clog of tears in his throat. He hopes Sungwoo can’t tell
how hurt he is. He would rather think he’s angry.

He is.

But he wants him to think he’s only angry.

Sungwoo doesn’t deserve tears.

Jungkook keeps his headphones firmly stuck to his ears as he stomps his way through the
apartment. The last thing he wants is another fight with Jimin. He doesn’t want to be nagged about
the dishes or the garbage or the bathroom towels. He wants to swap into his pajamas, throw
himself in bed, and scream himself to sleep.

His poor luck gives him a very startled and curious Jimin standing in the kitchen as soon as he
slams the front door shut. He can see Jimin’s mouth moving but he pretends not to, instead just
heading for his bed and stripping down. He should brush his teeth, wash away the alcohol from
earlier, but he doesn’t want to. He just curls up in his t-shirt and shorts and stares at his phone,
shuffling through his playlist until he finds a nice, soothing heavy metal song about hating the
world.

It only plays for 30 seconds before he sees Jimin’s head pop over the back of the couch to stare
down at him. He gestures for Jungkook to take the headphones off.

With a sigh, Jungkook pauses his music and sits up. “What, Jimin?”

Jimin scrunches his nose. “What’s with that fucking tone?”

“I don’t wanna argue about chores and shit right now, okay?” Jungkook flops back down on the
bed, headphones halfway on before Jimin snatches them away. “Hey! What the fuck? Can’t you
just leave me alone for one goddamn night?”

“I was trying to check on you, you fucking asshole.” Jimin chucks the headphones down on the
bed. “Excuse me for giving a shit.”

He storms off, and that’s when Jungkook notices the spatula in his hand, smells whatever the hell
he’s cooking. And then something clicks—how vehemently against dating Sungwoo Jimin had
been, how worried he was that it would hurt Jungkook, how sure he was that it would end badly.
He’s known Sungwoo awhile, watched him date everyone at the club. He must know more about
him than Jungkook does. They all must.

Dropping his phone, Jungkook launches over the back of the couch. “Did you know?” he asks,
earning a quizzical and annoyed glance from Jimin.
“Know what?” Jimin asks over the sizzling on the stove. He slides the pan off the burner and shuts
it off, turning to frown at Jungkook. He looks as sick of this as Jungkook feels.

Jungkook doesn’t even want to say it. He feels bile clawing up his throat as they stare at each other.
Does he really want to know the truth? He’s already had his heart ripped out and stomped on by
Sungwoo. Does he really need to know if Jimin has been hiding this from him too?

“Did you know that Sungwoo has a wife?” He almost wheezes out the last word.

Please don’t say yes. Please don’t say yes.

The way Jimin’s jaw drops open gives him all the answer he needs.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Jimin says, and then he starts for the door as if he really means it.

“No. No killing.” Jungkook sighs and sags against the couch. The pity in Jimin’s eyes just makes
him feel worse. “He’s not worth the prison time.”

Jimin sighs, a tired hand pushing through his hair. “Fuck.” That word is barely a whisper before he
crosses the room and wraps Jungkook up in a hug. “Fucking asshole. I knew he was good for
nothing. That son of a bitch. The next time I see him—”

“Forget about it.” Jungkook tucks his face into Jimin’s neck, arms around his waist. Jimin feels
nice, soft, the bare skin of his legs brushing against Jungkook’s. He’s missed holding him like this,
snuggling up together after particularly rough work nights. The past week or so of fighting has
been more hellish than he realized until now. He feels tired.

There’s a quiet in the room, an entente. There are plenty of unspoken frustrations and grudges still
clutched tight in their stubborn little fists, but there’s no need to air that out tonight. Jungkook
doesn’t have the energy for it anyway.

“Come on. Sit down,” Jimin says, climbing over the back of the couch. He drags Jungkook down
with him.

“But your food—”

“Fuck the food.”

No point in arguing, Jungkook decides. He’s more than happy to curl up against Jimin’s chest,
halfway propped up and arms around his waist again. Jimin tugs the sheets up and secures them
around Jungkook’s shoulders, rubbing his back like it’s a shock blanket and he’s trying to calm him
down.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No.” Jungkook sinks into Jimin’s body as he squeezes around him. He fits perfectly between
Jimin’s legs, perfectly in his lap. “Yes.”

A tinkling chuckle buzzes through Jimin and into Jungkook. It makes him smile. “So tell me about
it. What happened? How did you find out?”

With a deep breath. Jungkook launches into the story, starting with how hopeful he had been for
how the night would go, moving on to how happy he had felt until the very moment before he saw
that fucking pale band around Sungwoo’s finger. And then the gut-twisting sick sadness when he
realized what was happening.
Jimin lets it all sink in for a moment, hands still sliding up and down Jungkook’s back. He could
fall asleep like this. “What… what do you mean by ‘that’s what your dad used to do’?”

Fuck, he knew he should have left that part out.

“Before I was put in the system, my parents were… Well, they were too caught up in their own
dysfunction to really notice me. But I saw everything. All of it. All the time. They had no idea the
attention I paid to them.” He sinks a little lower, hides his face in Jimin’s stomach. Soft. Warm. “I
saw my mom every time she thought I wouldn’t notice her sneaking a sip of alcohol in the kitchen
at 3 A.M. I saw my dad every time he’d slip his wedding ring off and hide it behind the vase
before leaving the house. I always wondered how the people he cheated with never noticed that
he’d worn the ring so long his skin was a lighter color underneath it. Did they not notice or not
care?”

Jimin holds him closer, legs squeezing in on either side of him.

“Fuck, Kookie, I’m sorry.”

Jungkook shrugs. “Whatever. It’s— It happens. People suck. I’d love to give him the benefit of the
doubt but it’s— That’s too personal to me. Reminds me too much of childhood. I can’t— I just—
I’ll think about that every time I see him. I can’t—”

“You don’t have to justify it.” Jimin curls in to kiss the top of his head. “You’re allowed to feel
whatever you need to feel. You don’t have to say anymore.” He sighs into Jungkook’s hair. “I’m
just sorry you even had to go through this. You deserve better.”

“It’s fine.” It is arguably not fine, but Jungkook doesn’t want Jimin hurting for him anymore
tonight. It’s not worth it. “It sucks but it’s fine.”

His heart skips when Jimin kisses his head again and then sinks deeper into the couch. He pulls
Jungkook closer until he’s practically lying entirely on top of Jimin. It’s intimate, even by their
standards. He hates the way his mind drifts to what he can feel against his stomach, settled between
Jimin’s legs. Now is not the time to think about that. Then again, he’s been thinking about it all
night, hasn’t he? Even when he was with Sungwoo.

“I realized it wasn’t gonna work before I found out anyway.” He might as well say it.

“What do you mean?” Jimin asks.

Jungkook lifts himself up to look at him. It’s terrifying to face him as he says this. “Realized that
the whole time I was kissing him I was thinking of someone else.”

“Well, that’s—” Jimin’s eyes widen, still soft even through the shock on his face. “That’s good…
that you’re staying true to your heart.”

Like an idiot, Jungkook leans in.

Jimin’s head whips away so fast it would almost be comedic if it didn’t shatter Jungkook’s heart
for the second time tonight. Is this not what he thought it was? At all? It seems so as Jimin
shimmies out from under him and rolls himself over the back of the couch.

“You don’t need to worry about that right now, though,” he says, smiling at the downtrodden and
defeated Jungkook. He reaches out and ruffles his hair. “There’s no rush when you just had your
heart stomped on like this. Whoever you were thinking of will be happily waiting for you when
you feel better.”
Maybe he didn’t misread this. There’s purpose in the way Jimin stares at him as he says his next
words.

“I promise.” He rubs his hand over the back of Jungkook’s as it rests on the back of the couch.
“I’m gonna split dinner with you, okay? Your breath smells like alcohol. I’m not letting you go to
bed with a belly full of booze and nothing else.”

“Okay.”

Jungkook watches him as he works and then they settle into bed to watch TV. They don’t talk
about Sungwoo for the rest of the night, and Jungkook almost forgets about him until Jimin heads
to the shower. The emptiness in the room lets him linger on memories of the night a little too
much, and he starts to feel sick again when he thinks of Sungwoo’s ringed hand on him.

He tries to sleep, TV off, headphones on, but he just ends up tossing and turning. It must be at least
four in the morning when Jimin comes to check on him and notices that he’s still wide awake.

Jimin turns some old black and white film on in the background—American, all big furs and curly
hair and flowing dresses, practiced accents to make them sound high-class. Jungkook pays no
attention to it. He’s sure he can guess that the leading lady is in love with the brooding detective
for god knows what reason. He’s not in the mood for romance right now. Fuck romance. He hopes
they aren’t endgame.

He curls up on his side, knees tucked up close and blankets pulled tight. As much as he wants to
sleep, he doesn’t think he will, so he just listens to the slightly tinny audio of the movie and stares
at a wine stain on the sheets.

“Oh, Jungkookie,” Jimin murmurs, rubbing his hand down his spine. He digs the heel of his palm
in, trails upward until he can gently grip the back of Jungkook’s neck. “Is there anything else I can
do to help?”

“No,” he says, then buries his face into the pillow. He groans. “Men suck.”

With a chuckle, Jimin settles into the bed beside him and throws a leg over Jungkook’s hip. “I
know.” His face tucks into the back of Jungkook’s neck, nuzzles into his hair.

“Except you,” Jungkook says, almost sighing the words as he sinks into Jimin’s arms. He cages
Jungkook from behind, limbs wrapping him up softer than the sheets.

It tickles when Jimin laughs against his skin. “Same goes for you,” he says. His hand flattens
across Jungkook’s chest, rubbing circles over his heart as it starts to race. His leg feels warm on his
hip, his chest on his back even warmer. Jungkook can feel himself flushing red hot when lips peck
at the base of his neck. “Just don’t think about him for tonight, Kookie. He’s not worth your time.”

“I know.”

“Get some sleep.” The hand on his chest finds his hand and laces their fingers together.

“You too.”

One last whisper into his hair, “Men don’t deserve you.”

“I know.”

Except you.
 ♪♡♪

Sungwoo doesn’t show up to the club for at least a week after their last date. On the ninth day,
Jungkook sees him at his regular table and pretends not to. He goes extra hard on stage tonight as
well and pulls Taehyung a little too close during part of a performance just to show off that, no,
Sungwoo is not the only guy who gets to know what Jungkook’s body feels like.

Doesn’t matter that it’s just part of a dance or that it thoroughly confuses Taehyung. It does make
Sungwoo look away from the ending pose to scroll through his phone instead. Who cares if it’s
petty? It’s the least he deserves for being a goddamn liar.

In the following week, Jimin plays bodyguard to Jungkook and blocks the few attempts Sungwoo
makes to talk to him. He also wards off any other unwanted male attention whenever they’re on
break, practically snapping his teeth at anyone who won’t back off. Like a wild dog.

It’s kind of hot.

The only attention Jungkook cares to have on him is Jimin’s, and Jimin’s attention he gets.

Whether it’s coy glances in their vanity mirrors or a squeeze around the waist after lights go off
onstage, he gets it. They’ve always been a little more affectionate than they should be as “friends”
and “roommates”, but Jungkook thought maybe that was just how Jimin behaved with everyone.
He’s just a loving guy, right?

Wrong.

Loving, for sure. Affectionate, for sure. But he’s never stared anyone else in the eyes and promised
to wait for them until they aren’t heartbroken anymore. At least, Jungkook makes a safe
assumption that he hasn’t. That has to mean something, right?

“Hey, Jimin?” he asks after a solid three weeks of his Sungwoo detox. He sits atop his vanity as
everyone heads home for the night, watching Jimin throw a scarf around his neck.

“Yeah?”

“Can we get drunk tonight?”

Jimin chuckles. “We can get drunk anytime you want.”

And that’s how they end up a giggling mess on the pull-out bed, tangled up in sheets, bare feet
brushing against bare legs or not-so-subtle hands resting on thighs as their shorts hitch up. There’s
nothing about this to make Jungkook’s tipsy brain doubt that his assumptions were right, especially
when Jimin pulls Jungkook’s leg into his lap and starts massaging his calf.

Jungkook sighs, flattened out across the bed. This feels like a dream—a nice haze from the booze,
soothing music in the background, and a gorgeous man giving him a massage.

“I can’t believe I’m here right now,” he says, the empty bottle they shared dangling from his hand
at the edge of the bed. He lets it slip and clink to the floor. “I’m really glad I met you. Even if I
hadn’t become a dancer or anything… I think I’d be happy just being friends with you. Hell, I’d
work in another fucking car wash again, as long I got to live with you.”
“You’re really drunk right now, aren’t you?”

Jungkook shakes his head vigorously. “Nope. Just really, really happy.”

“Good.” There’s a particularly hard squeeze to his calf before Jimin switches legs. “You deserve to
be happy.” He glances at Jungkook’s phone as it buzzes, relaxing as soon as Jungkook lifts it to see
Yugyeom’s name there. “Has he tried to text or call you at all?”

They’ve made it a joke to never speak Sungwoo’s name aloud anymore. Like he’s Voldemort or
something.

“No. I think he knows I want nothing to do with him now. He gave up after, like, a week.”

“Loser. Oh well, you’re better off without him. You have other people who care about you.”

“Like?” Jungkook asks as he eyes Jimin closely, hoping to find another one of those sparks in his
eye that tells him he’s interested.

“Me. And everyone at the club.”

“You and everyone at the club,” Jungkook repeats. Why couldn’t Jimin leave it at the first word?
He’s been at it for weeks now. Every time he starts to imply that there could be something here, he
backs off and makes it sound like they’re just friends, like what Jimin feels is nothing profound,
nothing different from everyone else.

Jimin nods, his hands going still on Jungkook’s leg.

“Because you’re my friend, right?” Jungkook asks.

“Yeah, I’m your friend.”

Jungkook twists his mouth off to one side and nods. “Friend. Okay.”

The room goes still as they stare at each other. Jungkook refuses to look away until Jimin either
gives in and admits they aren’t friends or walks away. He knows what he wants. It’s up to Jimin to
make the next move.

“You should get some rest before work tomorrow.” Suddenly, Jimin is on his feet, tossing
Jungkook’s blankets playfully over him. It’s a poor attempt to ease the tension in the air. The brush
of the fabric against Jungkook’s crotch just makes it worse. “Sleep off the booze, Jungkookie. We
have that new number debuting tomorrow.”

Jungkook gives him a hum as he retreats toward the bathroom.

“I’m gonna shower.”

“Okay.” Jungkook tries not to grin as he adds, “Friend.”

It gets him exactly what he wants—an irritated little twist of his mouth, just like when they fight
but maybe a little less angry. He says nothing before heading for the shower.

Jungkook curls up and turns on the channel with the black and white films. He’s seen this one
before. This time he’s not so bitter about sappy romance playing out on the screen. It’s sort of cute,
even if the lead characters feel exactly the same as the leads on every other one. They’re all
starting to blur together now.
The bathroom door opens about twenty minutes into the film and Jungkook glances up to see a
shirtless Jimin heading for his room, towel wrapped around his waist. He glistens slightly, and
Jungkook isn’t ashamed to say he damn near salivates at the sight. He’s been horny and pent up
enough these past few weeks, and seeing the guy he’s been thirsting after for months isn’t helpful.

Jungkook scrolls through his phone after texting Yugyeom a bit, updating him on life, and then
Jimin passes through the room on his way back the bathroom, this time wearing shorts.

“Left my clothes in the bathroom,” he informs Jungkook, then grabs them and returns to his room.

Jungkook just chuckles and rolls his eyes at the grin on Jimin’s face as he passes by. He shoots
back another text before Jimin appears once more, sans shorts, towel in hand.

It’s not like Jungkook has never seen Jimin naked before. They’re roommates, they work together,
they change in front of each other constantly. But this is different, playful. Jimin trounces through
the room with the towel flung over his shoulder, unabashed, unashamed at flaunting his dick in
front of Jungkook.

Not that he’s complaining.

When he leaves the bathroom again, he doesn’t head for his room but goes to the kitchen instead.
Jungkook laughs as he digs through the cupboard, muttering about wanting a snack as if he isn’t
bare ass naked and bending over in perfect view of Jungkook. He pops back up with a tube in his
hand—a can of Pringles that he pops open with a triumphant smile.

“You want any?” he asks as Jungkook claps a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. He
shakes his head as Jimin approaches. “Are you sure?”

Jungkook nods. It’s all he can do when Jimin stops beside his bed, a little red in the face. Is he
embarrassed or just tipsy? Either way, it’s adorable, despite the obscenely sexual nature of how
he’s holding that fucking tube of chips.

He’s just standing there, Pringles in hand, completely naked next to where Jungkook lies. Hips at
eye-level. Bare chest looking like it would be so soft and smooth to the touch. Hair still wet from
the shower, pushed back from his face.

Jungkook tingles from head to toe, the nerve-endings in his fingertips screaming red alerts when he
almost reaches out.

He can’t feel his toes. He’s not sure he’s breathing anymore.

Jimin rattles the little tube of chips, the only thing blocking Jungkook from a full view of his junk.
“You really don’t want any? Not a single chip?” He pouts when Jungkook shakes his head. “And
here I was trying to be a good friend and offer you dinner after such a long night.”

“A can of Pringles hardly counts as dinner, Jimin,” Jungkook says, hiding his pink-tinged cheeks
with his hands as Jimin rattles the chips again.

“Last call.”

Jungkook peeks over at him, his smile stretching wider when he sees a perfectly sculpted eyebrow
waggle at him. He chokes, then nods, “okay, okay,” and reaches for the chips.

He keeps a hand clapped over his face as his hand slides into the tube. He risks a glance, the
fingers over his eyes parting to let him see Jimin still smirking down at him.
His mouth is dry.

He thinks he might fucking choke if he actually tries to eat anything.

How weird is it that he’s turned on by his hand slipping inside a phallic object as said phallic
object is held directly in front of Jimin’s actual dick? There’s something about it that sets him just
a little off kilter.

But he likes the way Jimin watches him as he lifts a chip to his lips, letting his tongue poke out to
pull it into his mouth. Slow. Steady. He lets Jimin enjoy the view while it lasts.

Jimin pushes the can forward slightly, nudging it into Jungkook’s open hand, and they just hold it
there. It’s an outright lie for Jungkook to say he doesn’t realize how this looks—the tube tilted
toward him now, extending away from Jimin’s hips, the opening of it hovering so close to his
mouth…

All he would have to do is drop it and lean in.

He’s so close to Jimin.

And then Jimin lets go, leaving the tube in Jungkook’s hand as he steps back, and Jungkook averts
his eyes before he actually sees it.

“Goodnight, Kookie,” Jimin says, slowly backing toward his room.

Jungkook doesn’t look again until his back is turned, and even that only gives him a slight glimpse
of Jimin’s ass before his bedroom door closes with a click. He stares at the door, playing out every
possible scenario in his head.

He could follow Jimin in there. He could do what he keeps telling himself he’s ready to do. It’s not
like Jimin doesn’t want it too. If that’s not what Jimin is hinting at, then Jungkook is more clueless
than he thought.

Throwing back his covers, Jungkook faces the door, taking a half step closer before he pauses.

His heart pounds in his throat, and then he takes another step. Before he knows it, he’s across the
room. He’s standing there, actually considering this. Actually considering walking into that room
to sleep with the man he’s daydreamed about since they met.

This is it. This is his chance.

Jungkook’s fist hovers near the door, then pulls back, pressing against his lips instead. He exhales,
cheeks puffed up, and then reaches for the door again. It swings open, and he hears Jimin speaking
before he even fully sees him.

“Kook, I’m sorry if that was too forward—” He goes silent as they end up face to face, his chest
still bare but a pair of shorts to cover the rest of him again. His eyes widen, darting over Jungkook
from head to toe.

If he plans to say anything more, Jungkook doesn’t give him a chance. He launches himself
forward, slamming into Jimin, lips crashing against lips. It’s sloppy, Jimin’s hands in his hair,
catching and accidentally tugging as they stumble back. Maybe they’re a little too tipsy, maybe it’s
the alcohol making Jungkook’s knees weak as he pushes Jimin toward the bed.

He’s not even sure of where his hands are, what his fingers are doing, too numb, until they catch at
the waistband of Jimin’s shorts.

Suddenly he’s very, very aware of how close they are, how much he can feel the tension in Jimin’s
thighs as they collapse on the bed, his leg wedged between Jungkook’s. They’ve been close for
dances and practice before, but now the hand on his ass isn’t a playful smack for a job well done
and the one slipping beneath his shirt isn’t to help him secure something on one of his costumes.

The soft dance of Jimin’s lips along his jaw has him shaking with nerves, hands grasping the sheets
on either side of Jimin’s head just to have something to steady himself with. If he keeps touching
Jimin, he’s afraid he’ll just vibrate right off the bed. But Jimin seems less than satisfied with that,
pulling Jungkook’s hands back, placing them on his waist, his chest, anywhere he can get
Jungkook to hold before rolling them over.

The bed dips on either side of Jungkook where Jimin’s knees rest, his shirt twisted into a tangled
mess against his chest, pulled taut in Jimin’s fists as he pushes it up to expose as much skin as he
can. Their kisses remain frantic, messy, Jungkook’s lips aching a little bit from the intensity.
There’s no ignoring the bite of alcohol still on their tongues as they meet, or the inherent wetness
between their mouths, the subtle string of saliva that keeps them connected even when Jimin pulls
back to catch his breath.

He barely gets a single gasp in before Jungkook chases after his lips, hands sliding over the curve
of Jimin’s ass, along his thighs before he grabs the bed to push himself upright. They meet halfway
again, open-mouthed as they try to breathe in whatever air they can between kisses. The longest
break they get is when Jungkook stops to pull his shirt off. And then they’re back at it again.

Something about the eagerness in Jimin’s movements, how he seeks out friction not just between
their lower regions but with everything, rockets Jungkook’s confidence. He doesn’t feel so nervous
when it’s so obvious that Jimin wants him. He feels warmer everywhere Jungkook touches him, his
body flushing at the mere graze of knuckles down the middle line of his abs. He shivers.

And Jungkook loves that.

Kissing Sungwoo didn’t feel like this. That doesn’t even compare. It was fun, but now he can’t
even remember what his lips felt like with Jimin’s so determinedly kissing the memories of them
away.

Jungkook flips them over again, chest to chest as he fits himself between Jimin’s legs, which part
all too willingly to let him in. A hand grabs his hair, locked in an iron fist to keep him in place,
keep him from breaking the kiss even as he thinks they might turn blue from not breathing. The
other hand dips into his pants, nails dragging over his ass cheek, digging into his skin. Jimin’s
palm rests warm against his hip, his thighs even more so.

The thin material between them does nothing to hide either of their arousal and Jungkook’s hands
take on a life of their own, trailing down Jimin’s body, seeking out everything he’s wanted since
they met.

Hands clasp around his wrists, stopping him too soon. Too, too soon, and he almost wants to
scream as the heat pooling low in his stomach comes to a jarring halt. He leans back and stares at
Jimin, who holds onto his wrists so tight he feels like he might dissolve into him.

“Is this okay with you?” Jimin asks, breathy and quiet, his voice seeming barely capable of leaving
his throat.

All Jungkook can do is stare back at him. What part of this doesn’t read that he wants it?
“Yeah, of course,” Jungkook says, though he’s so breathless he’s not sure it sounds convincing.
“I’m the one who came in here, aren’t I?”

“But— You’re not too drunk?” Jimin’s grip slowly loosens.

“I’m barely tipsy. You were drinking too. Shut up and kiss me, Jimin—” He leans in again, but
Jimin’s hands flatten across his chest. Now that’s all Jungkook can think about—how soft they
are, how warm, how the pads of his fingers drag subtly along his collarbones, sending shudders
through his body.

“I just wanna be sure.” He says it so softly, Jungkook feels his heart skip.

“Jimin.” Jungkook takes a deep breath, chest puffing up as he gathers the air—and the courage—
he needs to speak. “If this,” he says, glancing down at the obvious tent in his pants, painfully too
far away from Jimin’s to feel the pressure he wants—needs, really, “doesn’t tell you how okay I am
with this, then I’ve got news for you.”

Jimin chuckles as he brushes his knuckles along Jungkook’s jaw, stroking back and forth. And
then he pauses. “You’re sure—”

“Jimin, fuck, I’ve been thinking about this for months,” Jungkook says. He grabs Jimin’s wrists,
pinning them to the bed as he leans over him. “If the alcohol is what gave me the guts to finally do
it, so be it.”

He licks his lips, the nervous twisting in his gut returns.

“I just—”

“Kiss me,” Jungkook says, silencing Jimin. “Everywhere Sungwoo kissed me. Because you’re the
one I kept picturing whenever we kissed and I wanna know… what all of that would have been like
if it had been you.”

There’s a slight smile dancing across Jimin’s lips as Jungkook leans a little closer.

“In other words, I’m very, very sure about this.”

Jimin seems to relax against the sheets, hair haloed around his head as he smiles up at Jungkook.
His hands wriggle free to trail up Jungkook’s legs, his own thighs squeezing in on either side of
him. “Sorry I lost our momentum then.”

“I’m sure,” Jungkook whispers as he leans in closer, closer, until their lips tease each other again,
“we can get it back.”

Their hands meet between them, palms flattened together, fingers lacing. Jungkook can feel Jimin’s
smile in their kiss. He wonders if Jimin can feel his. He throws one leg over Jimin’s, straddling his
thigh, hips shifting down until he feels the length of Jimin’s cock against him. He ghosts a hand
down Jimin’s bare chest, lips parting to experimentally press his tongue against Jimin’s.

And then.

“You’re absolutely sure—?”

“Oh my god,” Jungkook groans into the kiss as Jimin laughs at his own joke. He drops his head
onto Jimin’s chest, hands brushing through his hair as they laugh.
“I couldn’t resist,” Jimin coos, then presses a kiss to the top of Jungkook’s head. God, he loves
when he does that.

The shift back and forth between primal need and tender touches has Jungkook spinning. He
definitely didn’t feel that with Sungwoo. But he can still feel Sungwoo on him. As fun as that was,
as fun as it could have been, he kind of only wants to feel Jimin right now. He leans back, and
Jimin’s face twists in confusion. Jungkook shifts on top of him, pressing more weight down on his
hips and making Jimin hold back a groan.

“Where did he kiss you?” Jimin asks, his fingers dancing along Jungkook’s thighs, twitching
slightly like he wants to grab hold and jump him. Jungkook kind of wishes he would.

“Besides on the lips,” Jungkook leans in again, his heart racing. He points at a spot on his jaw,
head tilted to expose his neck to Jimin. “Here.”

Jimin’s lips tip up in a smirk as he props himself onto his elbows. He closes the distance between
them and kisses Jungkook’s jaw.

It already feels better than it did with Sungwoo.

That didn’t thrill him like this.

Jungkook drags his finger down his neck. “Here.”

Jimin kisses again, takes his time, lets his tongue swipe over Jungkook’s skin. It makes him shiver,
which in turn earns an excited little breath from Jimin.

“And...” Jungkook tilts his head back, finger tracing over to his throat, right over the subtle bump
of his Adam’s apple. “...Here.”

Jimin’s fingers curl behind his neck, pulling him down. Jungkook’s hands tangle into his hair, but
he doesn’t tug, doesn’t move forward. He lets Jimin pick the pace for now, lets him choose when
to stop teasing and actually kiss him for real. He wants to see what Jimin likes, what he’s imagined
doing to Jungkook. If any of it matches the fantasies Jungkook has had about him.

His lips trail down, to the base of his throat, kissing at the dip between his collarbones.

“What about here?” Jimin asks, hot breath warming Jungkook’s skin as he moves to latch his lips
onto his clavicle.

Jungkook nods.

Jimin’s lips feel pillowy against him before they suck, hard, teeth grazing against the bone. His
tongue laves over it, tracing the little spot of purple he leaves behind. He leans back, eyes hooded
as they trace over every inch of Jungkook’s face. He’s completely lost, gone for Jungkook.

Good.

Jungkook wants him to be as deep in this as he is. Just as infatuated. Just as weighed down by their
need for each other so it feels like there is no relief without them. He wants Jimin as dependent on
his touch as he is on Jimin’s.

He’s craved him for so long. Has Jimin wanted him just as much?

“Anything else I should know?” Jimin asks, fully in this game of theirs now.
“Yeah.” Jungkook catches his lip between his teeth, biting, and Jimin’s eyes snap down to watch.
“He grabbed my ass. A lot.”

Jimin purses his lips to keep from grinning as he claps his hands over the globe of Jungkook’s ass.
“Better?”

“Much.”

“Anywhere else?” Jimin pries again, roaming back down to squeeze Jungkook’s thighs and earning
a grin from him.

“Put his leg between mine,” Jungkook says, but he’s already shifting around to do exactly that
before Jimin can. He straddles Jimin’s leg again, settling just a little more of his weight atop him,
biting his lip as he watches Jimin’s eyes flutter shut at the pressure against his cock. “I could feel
his cock against my thigh. Just like that. He could probably feel mine.”

He nuzzles his nose against Jimin’s temple, practically bursting at the seams with confidence he’s
never felt before. No one’s ever seemed so needy for him before, so pliant to his touch, soaking in
his words like they’re doctrine, hands worshiping the shape of his body.

“Can you feel it too?”

Jimin nods, head arching back against the bed when Jungkook’s tongue swipes along the shell of
his ear. Truthfully, Jungkook has no clue what he’s doing, just taking his best guess, following the
sound of Jimin’s breath—when it speeds up, he knows he’s doing something right, so he does it
again.

“I was always thinking of you,” he whispers against Jimin’s ear.

Jungkook sucks Jimin’s earring between his lips, tongue sliding out to trace over the lobe. He
smirks, teeth scraping, breath warming the wet spot along his ear now. Jimin’s hands grip tighter
on his waist, pulling him closer, bare skin on bare skin. There’s something almost frightening
about the power he has over Jimin like this. He never knew he could do this to another person.
Make them want him so bad.

Jimin pulls at him like he’s starving for touch, desperate to tug them so close together they just
mold into one. His cock is hard against Jungkook’s bare leg, a spot of precum soaking through his
shorts that makes Jungkook feel heat rush through his whole body.

Jimin wants him. Jimin wants him.

He could have anyone, but he waited for Jungkook.

“Tell me what you want,” Jimin whispers, head turned to meet Jungkook’s lips as they talk.
Jungkook revels in the tickle of it, every word making his lips buzz. “And I’ll give it to you.”

Jungkook pauses, hands on Jimin’s chest, and then he pushes himself upright to stare down at him.

What does he want? Everything. He wishes they could experience it all tonight. Every damn thing.
He wants to know Jimin’s body in every way he can. He’s thought of it since he first saw him.

Without a word, he slides his hand down, slipping beneath Jimin’s shorts to tease at the tip of his
cock. He barely ghosts his fingers along the length of it, for now just wanting to see Jimin’s
reactions, memorize the way he gasps at every touch.
“I think… I wanna feel you,” Jungkook wraps his hand around Jimin as their eyes meet, watching
as his mouth drops open from the first stroke, “inside me.”

He can feel how red his face is. He wishes it wasn’t so obvious, his inexperience. Wishes he could
at least effectively pretend the confidence he’s putting on is entirely real. There are moments when
it is, but looking into Jimin’s eyes like this…

It’s like those nights Jimin would sit too close all over again—when he did Jungkook’s makeup,
styled his hair, plucked his eyebrows, when they practice—he remembers how pretty Jimin is, how
unbelievable his interest in Jungkook is. And his experience… Jimin is so much more experienced.
Jungkook has no idea what he’s doing.

“Have you ever?” Jimin asks. He takes a deep breath, trying to keep himself focused as Jungkook
continues stroking his cock. Finally, he grabs Jungkook’s wrist, pulling his hand away. “Anymore
of that and we’ll be done way too soon.”

Jungkook gnaws at his lip again, then pushes his leg forward, between Jimin’s, and his head drops
back again.

Jungkook just wants to hear those moans again. No one sounds like Jimin, he thinks. Every
minuscule sound from him makes his cock twitch in interest, hard and straining against his shorts.
He’d been so distracted with watching Jimin, he had sort of forgotten about himself. Now his
arousal is painfully obvious.

Jimin pushes off the bed, catching Jungkook off guard and flipping them over. He presses
Jungkook’s wrists to the bed, thighs squeeze either side of his hips, securing him in place. His
tongue swipes over his lips, tempting Jungkook.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

If Jungkook wasn’t fully flushed before, he is now. Spread out in front of Jimin like this, bare,
restrained, thin material the only barrier between them. He’s suddenly very aware of what he’s
asking for, what they’re doing. It’s like he was in a daze before.

Fuck. Is he about to have sex with Jimin?

He shakes his head. “Not with other people, anyway,” he says, then squirms against Jimin in hopes
of making him purr like he did before. It works, lip between his teeth, eyes closed as he takes deep
breaths. “Just by myself. For fun.”

“Jesus, Kook, you can’t say things like that while looking like that under me.”

Jungkook feels nervous again. “Sorry—”

“Don’t be.”

“I thought I was gonna,” Jungkook says. “With Sungwoo, that night. Last night I was thinking
about you and I might have… messed around. And I thought about it… tonight with you. That’s
why I was, uh, in the shower for so long. Prepping. And stuff. In case you— If I bottomed—
Anyway.”

Jimin exhales slowly, eyes closed like he’s meditating on top of Jungkook. A little part of
Jungkook hopes he’s using this to imagine himself being the one to fuck him. He likes the idea that
the slight twitch of Jimin’s cock is because he’s imagining it inside of him. Jungkook certainly is.
“Roll over. I wanna do something for you,” Jimin says, crawling off of him. When Jungkook
doesn’t immediately roll over, he playfully snaps his fingers. “Get to it or you’ll miss out.”

Jungkook doesn’t waste another second, flipping over as Jimin kneels behind him. He looks back
to watch what Jimin’s doing, but as soon as their eyes meet and Jimin’s fingers tug his shorts over
the arch of his ass, Jungkook buries his face in the blankets. He feels breathless. When he came in
here, he didn’t expect this—to be so exposed, so open to Jimin.

He likes it, though.

“What are you—” he starts, but his voice catches when Jimin leans over him, chest flattened
against his back, a kiss dropped on his shoulder.

“Doing something I know Sungwoo wouldn’t have done for you,” Jimin says, whispering the
words into Jungkook’s spine as he kisses along it. “He hates eating ass.”

Holy fuck.

“But I wanna make this fun for you. Hips up.”

He’s pretty certain this is a dream. He’ll wake up any second, find himself back in his own bed,
and just have to imagine what it would feel like to have Jimin all over him like this.

Jimin leans toward the nightstand as Jungkook lifts his hips as he’s told, Jimin’s hand lingering on
his side. His breath hitches when he feels the shape of a cock fit between cheeks. It doesn’t last
long enough, just while Jimin searches for whatever he needs, and then the pressure is gone and
Jungkook has to refrain from chasing after it.

Needy isn’t exactly the impression he wants to give off, even if that is how he feels.

He holds his breath, waiting as the bed shifts, and then Jimin presses a kiss to the small of his
back. He’s already reeling, knowing what’s to come. He exhales, breath picking up speed as those
lips trail down, down, then veer to the left to kiss along his cheek. The snapping of a cap sends
heat down his spine, excitement, and then the pressure of a wet finger against his hole.

Jungkook’s mouth forms a silent O, forehead pressed into the sheets. It’s different, feeling
someone else’s finger than his own. Strange, foreign, not knowing exactly which way it’ll crook
inside him, how deep it’ll go. And it pushes all the way. Jimin sinks in to his knuckle, a little
breath escaping him that makes Jungkook feel like he’s enjoying this just as much.

“Fuck,” Jungkook chokes out as he feels it sliding back out of him. Slow. So slow, like he wants
Jungkook to memorize every centimeter of his fingers as they enter him.

“Feel okay?” Jimin asks, and a flick of his wrist makes him plunge inside Jungkook again, as deep
as he can.

Jungkook nods, lips pursed to keep himself from moaning as the first finger is joined by a second.
He knows he won’t be able to hold back forever. He doesn’t want to embarrass himself until he’s
too blissed out to really care.

“Oh, you did prep earlier, didn’t you?” Jimin’s fingers slide out and Jungkook has to bite his lip to
keep from begging him not to stop. That wasn’t even close to enough for him. Now that they’ve
started, he wants more. So much more.

Another kiss to his back, Jimin’s fingers spreading lube around his entrance. Jungkook briefly
wonders what flavor it is.

“Ready?” Jimin asks, almost chuckling the word as his hands spread Jungkook’s cheeks apart.

Jungkook’s heart is in his throat, beating so hard he can feel it in his head. He just nods again,
shivering as breath ghosts over his ass.

A strangled noise escapes him at the first flicker of a warm, wet tongue against his hole. He
actually jerks away from it, then laughs at himself as his face goes red as usual.

“Sorry. Wasn’t— Wasn’t expecting that.”

“Feels weird at first, I know,” Jimin says, those words casting his breath across Jungkook again,
making his skin prickle where it’s lubed. He’s so much more sensitive than ever before, every tiny
touch feeling like an orgasm all on its own. “Hold still. I promise it’ll feel good.”

And then Jimin dives in again, one hand pushing Jungkook’s cheek to the side, the other gripping
his thigh to keep him in place. Warmth presses into him, Jimin’s tongue flattening against his hole
before curling and flicking upward. It tugs a moan from Jungkook, already pulling him apart piece
by piece. It’s impossible to miss the proud chuckle from Jimin. Because he feels it.

Both hands on his ass again, Jungkook bracing himself against the bed to keep steady, Jimin’s
tongue slips inside him. Just barely, but warm and just enough of a stretch to set his nerve-endings
on fire, and he hates when it slides back out of him. He wants more. Fuck, he wants more.

“Good?” Jimin asks, making Jungkook shiver and gasp again, his lips puckering around
Jungkook’s hole and lightly sucking.

“’S good,” Jungkook manages to gasp into the sheets, and then teeth graze along his right cheek,
biting gently at his skin, fingers digging into the other. A breathy laugh escapes him—of disbelief,
of excitement, he doesn’t know, he just hears his own voice growing more feeble by the second.
“Really good.”

And Jimin’s tongue presses in again, almost. He prods at Jungkook’s entrance, teasing him, nearly
giving him what he wants before taking it all away. Jungkook feels like he’s losing his mind, his
face hot against the mattress as he tries to keep up with the patterns Jimin draws with his tongue.
Every new movement, new direction, new wet trail he leaves sends a wave over Jungkook,
electricity through his bones.

He’s never felt anything like this, nothing that could possibly compare. Jimin takes his time with
every stroke, like he’s gauging Jungkook’s reactions to find his favorite moves, then repeats the
ones that make him moan the loudest.

It’s like he’s toying with him in the best way possible. Jungkook can’t even be mad that he teases
so much, makes him wait so long, especially as lubed fingers slip inside him again and his tongue
slides to his perineum instead, and that…

That makes Jungkook cry out, turning his face to muffle himself. Fingers massage at his prostate,
making his hips buck forward and thighs shake. Jimin’s face stays buried between his legs, tongue
traveling back up.

“Holy fuck, oh fuck— fuck, Jimin—” Jungkook’s fingers curl into the sheets, pulling them out of
place, Jimin’s fingers thrusting in and out of him, spreading apart to stretch him further.

Until, finally, he gives Jungkook what he wants.

His tongue replaces his fingers, hands spreading him open again, and it slips so much deeper inside
Jungkook than he ever thought possible. He feels his back arching, hips rocking forward, hands
pulling at the sheets before he reaches for his neglected cock. Fuck, Jimin’s tongue has had his
head so high in the clouds he forgot he even could touch himself.

Jimin eats him out like he’s fucking starving, every moan and harsh gasp from Jungkook only
urging him on. He seems to feast on the way Jungkook falls apart beneath him, and Jungkook feels
just as insatiable. Stroking at his own cock, he pushes against the bed, rocking backward as if he
could take Jimin any deeper. He wants more, still.

Amazing as it is, he can imagine how much better it could be to be fuller, to have Jimin completely
inside him, deeper. Deeper, giving him more than what a tongue or a pair of fingers against his
nerves can give him.

Jimin pulls away, hot breath drenching Jungkook in a totally different sensation than the cool
wisps from before. It makes his hand stall, unable to keep a steady stroke when he hardly feels like
his soul is even still in his body. He swears he’s fucking floating right now.

“I can finish you off like this,” Jimin says, fingers trailing up and down Jungkook’s spine, kisses
following them. “Or I can fuck you”

He sounds as breathless as Jungkook, a hint of slurring to his words like he’s drunk off this.

Jungkook has never rolled over so fast in his life, regretfully letting go of his cock. He needs to
hold on just a little longer—he’s so glad he got off in the shower earlier to help. Especially when
he sees how hard Jimin is beneath his shorts. He’s straining against them.

All for Jungkook. Because he wants Jungkook.

“Yeah,” Jungkook heaves out in a raspy breath. “Fuck me.”

And he snatches the lube up, Jimin busying himself with tugging his shorts down. His eyes drag
down the length of his cock, sizing him up as if he really has much to compare to besides himself.
Honestly, any size of dick is a little intimidating to him. How is something like that supposed to fit
inside anyone?

He doesn’t dwell on it as Jimin scrambles for the nightstand again and returns with a condom.

Jungkook turns the little bottle completely upside down over his palm as Jimin slides the condom
on, squeezing too hard in his rush to get Jimin inside of him. It feels like he’s been teasing him for
hours. If he waits any longer he thinks he might just melt into the bed, his bones already feel like
liquid from how far Jimin has edged him.

The lube spurts onto his palm, a massive glob right in the middle, and he drops the bottle in a panic
to keep it all from sliding off.

“Oh, fuck, that’s a lot,” he hisses, clapping his hands together to warm it and hopefully save as
much as he can. He prays that Jimin doesn’t mind how much drips onto the sheets.

“It’s fine,” Jimin tells him as he takes hold of his wrists, leaning in to give a comforting peck on his
lips. “Don’t worry about using too much. Trust me, it should be like a slip n’ slide in there for your
first time.”

Jungkook chokes on his own tongue.

“Lay back,” Jimin whispers into his mouth, moving with him as Jungkook does as he’s told. He
feels lightheaded, breathing in Jimin, the only form of oxygen he feels he needs right now. “It’ll be
easier to get you used to it this way.”

He guides Jungkook’s hand to his cock, letting him slick it up, then the other to Jungkook’s own
ass to spread the rest of the lube there.

“And then we can experiment with whatever—fuck—”

A flick of Jungkook’s wrist cuts his words off with a moan, his head rearing back, throat exposed
as he tries to swallow down his own voice. He’s gorgeous like this, falling apart because of
Jungkook, and he wonders if that’s how Jimin felt about him when he had his tongue inside him.

“We can try— try whatever you want after,” Jimin finally manages. He licks his lips, takes a deep
breath as he stares down at Jungkook, and Jungkook can see his restraint coming apart at the edges
as he watches him stroke his cock again.

“Whatever I want?” Jungkook asks, a burst of courage surging through him at the sight of Jimin’s
eyes rolling back, his mouth dropping open.

All Jimin can do is nod as Jungkook pushes himself upright to capture his lips in a kiss. He tastes
Jimin’s voice on his tongue, saccharine moans dripping between their lips with every tug of
Jungkook’s hand along his cock.

He trails hot kisses up Jimin’s jaw, tongue darting over his ear just like earlier—and it drives him
as crazy as it did then too, earrings clinking against his teeth—before he murmurs, “Then get inside
me.” He gives a little nibble. “So I can ride you.”

Jimin only hums in approval, gagged by his own lust as he hitches Jungkook’s legs up, pushes
them back against his chest. Jungkook is so fucking glad he’s as flexible as he is, bending easily in
half. He feels even more exposed than before, facing Jimin as he fits himself between his legs. He
didn’t have to meet Jimin’s eyes while he was eating his ass earlier. It’s different, looking right at
each other as he feels the head of his cock press against him.

“Ready?” Jimin asks, hands braced on Jungkook’s legs as he leans forward to kiss him again.

Jungkook nods, slips his hands between them. His arms twist around Jimin’s waist and, despite
how nervous he is, his excitement gets the best of him. He pulls Jimin closer, guiding his hips to
mimic the way he wants to be fucked. Anything to rile Jimin up, make him stop hesitating. He’s
sick of waiting.

“Good. Fuck—” Jimin almost laughs in relief, kneeling over Jungkook as he repositions himself.
“Okay. Just relax. It’s gonna feel weird at first.”

“‘Kay.” Jungkook is already breathless, barely sighing out that word as he feels a hand run down
his thigh, the other steadying Jimin’s cock as he starts to push inside.

It’s definitely different than a finger, definitely more. He sucks in a sharp gasp at first, a blunt sort
of discomfort at that first stretch. It’s not painful, exactly, just weird, and his body goes rigid out of
instinct.

“No, no, no, relax,” Jimin whispers, catching his lip between his teeth to distract himself. He runs
his hand over Jungkook’s thigh again, squeezing lightly. “Do you need me to stop?”

“No—” Jungkook chokes out the words, grabs at Jimin’s wrist as if that will keep him from pulling
out too soon. He definitely doesn’t want him to stop. He’s fine. He’s messed around with this stuff
before. It’s just… different, knowing it’s a real person that’s about to be inside him. That someone
else is going to be in him.

That’s the part that’s making him nervous.

But then Jimin leans down again, hand braced on the bed beside Jungkook’s head, and he captures
Jungkook in a kiss so reverent he forgets every worry he had. The hand around Jimin’s wrist goes
lax, reaching around to find purchase on his back instead. His head tips back against the bed, eyes
squeezing shut tighter the further Jimin slides into him.

Jimin drops open-mouthed kisses down his neck, each one a cure to the tension in Jungkook’s
muscles. With every kiss, he eases a little more. Every kiss, until the foreign stretch that made him
squirm with discomfort before makes him move closer now, seeking it deeper. The way Jimin fits
with him, like they were made for this, makes his whole body shake.

He’s shameless in the moan he lets out as Jimin bottoms out inside him, the hand beside his head
tangling into his hair. Jimin’s lips travel back up his neck, linger at his temple to pepper gentle
kisses into his hair.

“Fuck, y— you feel so good,” Jimin murmurs. The words vibrate against Jungkook’s ear, almost
tickling. It makes him pull away at first, a chuckle escaping as he holds Jimin a little tighter.

He wants to say the same, to tell Jimin how good it feels, how warm he is with skin on skin and
Jimin filling every bit of him. His mind can’t wrap around words right now, so instead he tightens
his legs around Jimin, like he’s asking for more, and lets his voice work in the only it can: a shaky,
pleased sigh, the lightest croak of a moan.

Jimin shifts to hover over Jungkook, slipping just slightly out of him. That one little bit of slide
making Jungkook’s entire body jerk at the sudden sensation, squeezing around Jimin. It makes
Jimin’s head drop forward as he moans, and Jungkook can practically taste that sound on the air.

It’s fucking beautiful, hearing Jimin make a noise like that because of him.

He could get used to this, making someone fall apart with every little shift of his body, every
whisper against Jimin’s skin. Everything he’s ever known about sex hasn’t been like this. He had
no idea that this could make him feel powerful.

Jimin sucks in a deep breath, propping himself up again to stare down at Jungkook. “You good?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook takes in slow, deep breaths, still training his body to stay relaxed, to not tense at
every little movement. But he’s getting there. He thinks he’s got it. “I’m good. Try— try moving.”

Jimin gives such a gentle stroke to his hair, Jungkook can’t help the way his eyes flutter shut at the
touch. Especially when he kisses him again, and this time it’s like how they first kissed when he
came in here. Messier, needier. He kisses Jungkook like he’s the only thing he ever wants to taste,
and rolls his hips back.

Jungkook hasn’t gotten used to feeling so full. He isn’t at all ready for the drag of something so
thick back out of him, the way it makes his nerves go all alight, his back arching. He swears he
feels it all the way up his spine, a shock that rushes through him, gathering in his chest and making
everything feel feather-light.

He doesn’t expect the way he cries out when Jimin pushes back inside him, a slight burn with this
stretch that, truly, he can’t complain about. It feels good. Feels great. And Jimin must be able to
tell by the way he clenches around him, how his thighs go taut and squeeze around Jimin’s waist.
He thinks he hears a mumbled question of if he’s still okay, and all Jungkook gives is a half nod
before Jimin eagerly sinks back into him.

Jungkook can’t ignore the way Jimin grunts as he snaps his hips forward, the end trailing off into a
somewhat pitchy moan, like he can hardly bear the tight fit, yet can’t get enough of it at the same
time.

All he hears are the little gasps, every breath that Jimin sucks in heavy and sharp with every thrust.
The wet slide from too much lube turns out to be a blessing. Jungkook loves all the little reminders,
all the sounds mixed with physical pleasure, knowing that Jimin is hearing it too. That he hears the
effect he has on Jungkook, that he can hear what it sounds like to fuck him, not just feel it.

Jimin shifts again, both hands holding Jungkook’s hips as he slams into him again, this time with
abandon. His lips decorate his throat with little love bites, no worry left about if he feels good. He
can tell he does by the way Jungkook grits his teeth around every shamefully loud moan and how
his hand grabs a handful of Jimin’s ass cheek to encourage him to fuck harder, push in farther.

“Fuck— ah, Jungkook—” Jimin practically whines his name against his throat, hand stroking up
his side as if to comfort him. As if he needs that anymore. Jungkook is beyond relaxed.

He’s delirious with the way Jimin fucks him, fingers teasing at Jimin’s hole just to make him jerk
forward in surprise and ram into Jungkook harder.

“Jungkook, you—” Jimin’s voice fades into another moan, this one low and guttural as Jungkook
clenches around him.

He wants to know exactly what he can do to Jimin like this, how many ways he can make him
break down in pleasure, melt into his body, limbs going weak.

“Said you— said you wanted to ride me?”

It’s like Jimin lights a fire inside him with those words. Jungkook pushes at his chest before he
realizes what he’s doing, scrambling to roll them over. His only regret is when Jimin slides out of
him—though even that makes him dizzy with ecstasy, his body screaming out at how empty he is
now, yet every nerve still rings through him at the feeling of Jimin, Jimin, Jimin.

“It’s gonna feel different like this,” Jimin says, only half focused as Jungkook crawls on top of
him. His hands seem to be everywhere on Jungkook, on his thighs, his chest, thumbing at his
nipple and making him twitch. He grabs at Jungkook’s ass as he begins sinking back down on his
cock.

He knows he won’t last much longer and he’s so, so glad again that he got himself off earlier so
this wouldn’t end too soon. It’s a whole new experience, taking Jimin in this way—different
angles, different depths, fitting himself to the curve of Jimin’s cock to make it nestle perfectly
against those nerves inside of him.

The sounds that leave him with every harsh snap of his hips rip from somewhere deep in his chest.
Jimin seems hardly capable of even following his rhythm anymore, eyes rolling back, neck arching
as his head presses what might be a permanent dip into the mattress. Jungkook completely takes
charge, choosing how fast or how slow to take him. Sinking him in so deep it almost aches
whenever he nails his prostate head on.

One hand curls against Jimin’s chest, head lolling forward, the other curling into Jimin’s hair. He
loves the way Jimin’s face twists in pleasure because of him, watching those full lips part to
whimper out Jungkook’s name when he angles his hips just right and clenches tighter around him.

Jungkook’s focus wanes, his dick aching, curled high against his stomach. And he can’t stand it
anymore. He wraps his hand around himself and strokes, even though that means this has to end
and he doesn’t want it to. He feels like he could get high off the sound of Jimin climbing closer and
closer to his climax inside of him.

He never realized this was part of sex. Watching the person he’s with and knowing they feel this
way because of him. Knowing that he’s capable of giving Jimin the same fulfillment he feels.

Jimin’s toes curl against the bed because of him. Jimin’s hands go weak against his hips because of
him. Jimin is getting off because of him, with him, inside of him. Fuck. This part is even better
than the hand wrapping around his cock, moving his own out of the way to jerk him off. It’s better
than anything else he’s ever felt, and now, despite chasing his own release, his sole goal is to make
sure Jimin has the best orgasm of his life.

And it makes it even better for himself. He plants both hands on Jimin’s chest, bracing himself as
he fucks deeper, meeting the roll of Jimin’s hips. Every subtle twitch in Jimin’s body sends a thrill
through him, adds to the heat building in his abdomen as Jimin tugs at his cock, thumb swiping
precum down it to ease the slide.

He aches for release, his thighs burning, his cock begging for Jimin’s hand to move quicker, hold a
little tighter. Their eyes lock as Jungkook guides Jimin’s hand to show him what he needs, and then
he keeps going. As Jimin’s fingers slip into his hair, pulling him a little closer, but not close enough
that they can’t see each other.

They keep just that little distance they need to watch.

And Jungkook feels himself coming over Jimin’s hand hard enough he feels like he convulses. His
hips jerk forward before he forces them back down, taking Jimin all the way one last time before
he has to let Jimin guide him. Both hands grip his waist now, keeping his rhythm steady enough
that he can still ride out Jimin’s orgasm, fucking himself onto his cock until he feels the groan and
cry of ecstasy from Jimin travel its way up through his chest.

It’s better than anything he’s ever heard—deep, animalistic, wanton, trailing off into the most
intoxicating moans and gasps for breath as he keeps rocking his hips upward until he’s finished.
Clearer than bells, soft and musical as Jungkook finally lets himself drop forward to halfway lay on
top of Jimin.

He’s fucking exhausted, but it’s worth it. More than fucking worth it.

Jimin shifts beneath him, wiping his hand on the sheets before he trails both up and down
Jungkook’s sides. He soothes him, just like earlier, his fingers digging in a tired, lazy massage.

Jungkook lifts himself up, though his arms feel like they might give out. He feels like his voice is
wrecked, his throat aching, and he wonders how loud he actually was. He was so focused on Jimin
he has no idea what he even did half the time.

“Was that— Was that good?” he asks, and Jimin heaves out a tired, disbelieving laugh.

“Yeah,” he says, his whole body seeming to melt into the mattress, eyes closed, hair stuck to his
face. He looks completely blissed out, a dazed smile on his lips, and Jungkook feels fucking proud.
“That was… fucking great.”
He did this. He made Park Jimin look like this.

“You feel okay?” Jimin asks, and it’s like he flips a switch, pushing past that post-sex bliss too
quickly for Jungkook’s liking. He wouldn’t mind just sitting here and watching him slowly drift
off, all relaxed and happy.

There’s still a glossiness to his eyes, a dizziness to his movements as he pushes himself upright,
hands on Jungkook’s hips to guide him up. The sensation of Jimin slipping out of him after being
so full for so long makes him shiver.

He flops onto the bed as Jimin removes the condom and tosses it to god knows where. Jungkook
can’t be bothered with anything else, because as he lies back and lets his muscles ease up, he feels
absolute satisfaction wash over his body, turning him to jelly. He feels like he could fall asleep just
like this. Every muscle in his body burns, but it’s the best feeling he could ask for. It’s a pleasant
ache and he would kill for more of it.

“Jesus,” Jimin sighs as he drops down beside Jungkook again, “you… have the stamina of a
fucking ox.”

Jungkook snorts out a sleepy laugh.

“Honestly, I’m— I’m impressed you lasted that long your first time,” Jimin says with an uneven
laugh, still trying to catch his breath. He lets his head loll to the side and knock lightly against
Jungkook’s.

“I might’ve… fooled around a lot earlier.” Jungkook feels his face reddening. How can he still get
bashful after doing what they just did? “You know, gotten off a lot so I could last a little longer. It
was something I started doing just in case anything happened while I was—”

“Dating Sungwoo. Got it.”

Jungkook chews at his lips to keep from grinning, then looks over at Jimin. “You really don’t like
when I mention him, do you?”

Jimin shrugs, eyes closed. “It’s… no big deal. I’m just saying.”

“Hey.” Jungkook reaches over, drawing his fingers along Jimin’s jaw. His full-body flush seems to
be fading, but he’s still hot to the touch. It sends another little zap of excitement through Jungkook
and he almost thinks he could go for another round.

Jimin slowly turns to face him, eyes a little hooded, and he looks so peaceful it makes Jungkook’s
heart stutter.

“I’m glad it was with you instead,” Jungkook murmurs, and then he waits. He waits until Jimin
starts to smile, then puckers up to kiss the tips of Jungkook’s fingers when they dance over his lips.

“Roll over,” Jimin says.

“Are you about to eat my ass again?”

Jimin chuckles, nudging Jungkook until he flops onto his stomach. The mattress dips as Jimin
straddles him again, settling naked on top of him. Jungkook is just about to ask what he’s doing
until he feels hands rubbing at his back. He massages his shoulders first, then works his way down,
all the way until he presses his thumbs into Jungkook’s lower back.
 It feels like Heaven, Jimin leaning his weight on Jungkook to add pressure, palms flattening against
him. He melts. He just melts under Jimin, especially when he leans down to kiss along the back of
his neck. He pauses just behind Jungkook’s ear.

“I’m glad it was too,” he whispers, and then he presses the most gentle kiss Jungkook has ever felt
on his jaw.

He doesn’t mean to, but he falls asleep in Jimin’s bed that night.

Neither of them mention it, but they also don’t seem to mind when morning comes.

Chapter End Notes

Come find me on Twitter!

 Glitter & Tassels & All Things Bedazzled
Chapter Notes

Playlist | Padlet

See the end of the chapter for more notes

♪♡♪
Okay, so…

Jungkook never realized it was possible to ride the high of a good fuck well into the next morning,
but damned if he doesn’t still feel that little buzz of euphoria tingling across his skin. That airiness
you get after a particularly good orgasm.

It brings a sleepy smile to his face when he feels the bed shift, a bare arm rubbing against his. The
hand that finds his through the mess of sheets doesn’t even seem to realize what it’s grasping for.
Jimin is still sound asleep when Jungkook rolls over to face him.

His cheek squishes against his pillow, hair strung across his face. It makes his lashes flutter at the
tickle, and Jungkook brushes it away before it can wake him. He lets his fingers linger, pushing
through the strands and tucking them behind Jimin’s ear. The groan that leaves him almost makes
Jungkook laugh, his lips smacking as he seems to sink deeper into the pillow.

Jungkook lets go before he disturbs him. He doesn’t mind just watching Jimin like this, hands
tucked beneath his cheek. Jimin’s lips form a little pout as he exhales, and then he breathes in deep
and his eyes ease open.

“Mm, morning,” he murmurs before rubbing at his face. Suddenly every soft feature he’s noticed
about Jimin seems to accentuate itself as he wakes, his guard down. Dainty, well-manicured hands
slide through his hair before grasping for Jungkook. They pull each other closer.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good.” Fingers paint shivers down his spine. “I never knew getting your ass eaten was the actual
spiritual awakening we all need.”

Jimin snorts. “Mm-hm, I saw God my first time.”

“Was, um…” Jungkook shifts back a bit, keenly aware that they’re both still naked and he can feel
Jimin’s dick against his leg. “Was last night good for you too?”

Giggles vibrate through both of them as Jimin closes the little bit of distance Jungkook managed to
get. “Of course it was.” He kisses Jungkook’s throat. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been
daydreaming about even kissing you?”

Jungkook zooms into the fucking stratosphere. He’s floating on a cloud of Jimin-induced glee and
he never wants to come down.

“Why did you try so hard to hook me up with Sungwoo if you wanted…” He trails off, unsure what
the right words are. Did Jimin want to be with him? Fuck him? Fool around with him? What
exactly does he want with him?

He shoos those cursed thoughts away before they have a chance to spiral out of control.

“I don’t know.” Jimin says as pushes Jungkook flat on his back. He draws slow circles over his
chest, watching the patterns as he travels lower, then traces his abs. “I was just trying to help you
gain some confidence, realize how desirable you are. It went a little farther than I hoped.”

He chuckles and it’s beautiful.

“I just wanted you to have the confidence to make a move on me. I wanted you to have that
experience, you know? It’s a good feeling, going after what you want and getting it. And then, I
guess I sent all the wrong signals and you thought I wasn’t interested. No fault on you. I should
have made it more obvious that I wanted to hook up.”

Jungkook snorts, heart stuttering as fingers trail up to his throat.

“Not just hook up. Obviously. I’m not saying I just wanna— I mean, you’re more than that to me. I
care about you…”

With a sigh, Jimin flops onto his back and stares at the ceiling.

“But obviously no pressure to… be anything more either.”

“Yeah, I mean,” Jungkook stares straight up too, hands folded on his stomach, “no pressure. We
can both just… do what we want, right? No obligations. Just fun.”

He feels the pillow shift with Jimin’s nod.

“But, you know, I’m not opposed to something more than fun too.”

It feels like Jungkook’s heart almost leaps out of his chest. He turns his head to smile at Jimin, the
two of them staring at each other across the bed. “But for this morning,” he says with a barely-
contained grin, “there’s nothing wrong with just having a little more fun, yeah?”

Jimin gnaws at his bottom lip, the corners tilting up.

“I could try to return the favor?”

A beat. And then Jimin pulls Jungkook on top of him, frantically shoving the sheets aside to let
Jungkook sink down between his legs. Fun or more than fun, Jungkook doesn’t mind this so much.

Legs wrapped around his neck and fingers in his hair to guide his every ministration isn’t such a
bad start to the day.

♪♡♪

Jungkook has no idea what the etiquette is for fucking your coworker. He tries to keep it subtle—
the way he stares at Jimin’s ass during rehearsals and performances, the “bathroom trips” they both
conveniently need at the same time, the quickies out back before they start their shift—but he’s
afraid the others might have already caught on.

It probably is a little obvious when they keep showing up from break with their makeup wrecked.

Like they will today after Jungkook is done pinning Jimin to the wall by his hips. His fingers dig in
alongside the jut of his hipbones, the bubblegum pink lipstick he had on for their previous
performance streaked across his cheek and smeared around his lips. This brand is apparently not on
the porn star-approved list of best lipsticks for blow jobs.

They have about two minutes left on break, max, considering how long ago Jimin dragged them in
here to blow Jungkook first. Luckily, in the past two weeks that they’ve been nonstop on each
other, Jungkook has figured out so many of Jimin’s specific tics—especially this one, hitching
Jimin’s leg over his shoulder and hugging tight around his waist as he takes him deeper.

He would daresay he’s a master at getting Jimin off by now. He has him writhing against the door
in no time, one hand around Jimin’s cock to finish him off as he swallows.

It’s a miracle no one comes to check that they’re not being murdered in here with the noise they
make. Jimin’s head smacks against the door when he tugs Jungkook back up for a kiss. Jungkook
cracks his knee against it when he pushes it between Jimin’s

with a bit too much zeal.

They barely get themselves cleaned up before they stumble into the hallway and nearly crash in
Taemin. “Sorry,” they both mumble through their giggles before darting down the hallway.

“Wait, wait,” Jungkook says, pulling Jimin to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. He brushes his
fingers through Jimin’s hair, straightening it, and then Jimin points at his face, just below his left
eye.

“Fuck, you lost one of your gems.”

Jungkook slaps his hand to his face, the other clicking his phone to see the time. “Fuck.”

They thunder up the stairs so loud they rival the bass from the band.

The dressing room clears out slowly tonight, everyone stumbling half asleep to their cars. Between
extra long rehearsals and everyone stressed out about rebooting the show, they’re all tired and
overworked. Even Namjoon leaves with dark circles under his eyes, having essentially been the
only person keeping both Seokjin and Yoongi sane.

Tonight, he leaves with his arm around Yoongi’s shoulders, talking as they walk. Seokjin sits in the
office, door open, feet kicked up on the desk. And Jungkook? He takes slow, deep breaths to calm
himself, work up the courage to walk into that office and speak his mind for once.

Fuck, if he can find it in himself to make a move on Jimin, he can tell Seokjin he has ideas for the
new show. What’s the worst that can happen? Seokjin will say no and Jungkook goes home a little
dejected? Big deal. He’s been rejected over bigger things than this.

“You ready to go?” Jimin asks as he leans over Jungkook, arms looping loosely around his neck.
His chin props atop Jungkook’s head, and he smiles at their reflection.

“Pretty much. But, uh, I wanted to talk to Seokjin real quick,” Jungkook says, fidgeting with
Jimin’s fingers. “If you don’t wanna wait, I can take the bus—”

“Nonsense.” Jimin kisses the top of his head. “I’ll wait by the bar.”

“Okay. I’ll be quick.”

“No rush.”

Jungkook watches Jimin’s retreating reflection, leather jacket like always, makeup half-removed
and smudged under his eyes. He really is breathtaking no matter what.

Alright. Focus. He can do this. Seokjin isn’t that scary.

With a deep breath, he heads for the office. Seokjin lounges in the chair, head back, eyes closed.
He taps his pen idly along with a quiet song on the radio, seemingly unaware of Jungkook until he
knocks on the door.
“Oh, Jesus,” Seokjin startles, then gives him a tired smile. “I didn’t think anyone was still here.
You need something?”

Jungkook shakes his head as he leans in the doorway, heart in his throat. “I just wanted to talk to
you… about the new show.”

Seokjin’s feet hit the floor, elbows on his knees, chin on his hands. He pays way too much
attention, and suddenly Jungkook is nervous again. He figured it would be a casual talk, a brief
suggestion, and then he would go home and just hope for the best. Seokjin must be really desperate
if he’s this willing to hear Jungkook out.

“So, I know we’ve all sort of been scrambling to put together, like, a theme for a new show. And I
just thought maybe I had sort of a… fun one.”

“Okay,” Seokjin waves for him to go on, “show me what you’ve got.”

“So, uh, I watch a lot of old movies at home. And there was one with this…” Jungkook sighs, then
moves to sit in the chair across from Seokjin. “Well, it doesn’t really matter. There was a
vaudeville act at the end and it got me thinking…”

God, if this was an elevator pitch, he would be fucked. The doors would be shut by now and they
would be long gone, laughing at the bumbling buffoon who thought he ever stood a chance.

“Vaudeville, burlesque, circuses, all that kind of stuff… has sort of one thing in common, doesn’t
it?”

Seokjin’s face twists in confusion. “Lots of makeup?”

Well, he’s not wrong.

“Misfits.” Jungkook wrings his hands together, stares down at his feet. Fuck, he feels sick. “I came
here… because I didn’t fit in anywhere else. Everyone else’s solo acts are, I think, about taking
their insecurities and owning them, or turning expectations about themselves on their head. As far
as I know, everyone here is here because it’s the only place they get to be themselves.”

“Okay, I’m with you so far. But how does that fit into a theme for the show?”

“Look at me,” Jungkook says, holding his arms out to his sides, still half done up in his costume,
makeup running down his face. “If I stepped outside of this building or went back to my hometown
looking like this, do you know how people would look at me? Like I’m a freak.”

Seokjin lifts a brow in agreement.

“When I first started here, I was afraid people would still see me that way, even here in this club. I
just thought ‘I don’t have the body for this’ or ‘my personality doesn’t fit this stage.’ And that
everyone would still see me as the outsider or the misfit. My point is… we’re a whole troupe of
freaks to the outside world, and I think a lot of people who come here probably also feel that way.”

“I still don’t know how this is a theme, Jungkook.”

“I think we should just… embrace how the world sees us and make it our own. The whole theme?
Circus, vaudeville, burlesque… all these forms of entertainment that cropped up in seedy bars and
little corners of the world where the forgotten could find homes. We’re weirdos in the eyes of the
majority, that’s fact. But that’s not a bad thing. We can make it into a laugh, make it something
that makes people laugh at the rest of the world while we have fun.”
Seokjin chews at his lip, eyes on his feet as he taps his heels.

“I mean, think about it… Hoseok is practically an acrobat already. Jimin is super flexible—” he’ll
leave out the part about how he knows that “—and practically everyone here has some sort of
experience in theater. We could pull off something really wacky if we wanted to and still be, you
know, alluring. And pay homage to all those forms of expression that the world views as a little
different.”

Slowly, Seokjin nods, then sits back again. “It’s not a bad idea. Freakshow sort of names itself,
doesn’t it?”

Jungkook thinks his heart might jump out of his chest.

“Tell you what,” Seokjin says, “you put together some of your ideas, work out the theme a little
more specifically, and we’ll see if it’s a viable option.” A smile slides onto his face, just the
lightest hint of fondness there. “But I think it has potential. I like the meaning behind it too.”

“Thanks.” Jungkook heaves a relieved sigh. “I’ll put something together and I promise it’ll be
amazing. I won’t let you down.”

It almost looks like Seokjin stifles a chuckle. “Okay, chill,” he says. “Don’t take it too seriously.
Have fun with it. Burlesque is supposed to be fun.”

“I will.” His whole body buzzes with excitement. So much so that he trips over his chair as he
leaves. “I’ll work on it this weekend.”

“Take your time.” Seokjin chuckles as Jungkook bumps into the door frame. “And watch your
step.”

“Got it. Thanks again. Goodnight.”

“‘Night, Jungkook.” Seokjin spins his chair, grinning as Jungkook backs out of his office. “And,
hey… I’m glad you feel like you found your home here.”

Jungkook freezes in the door, a stupid little smile on his face as they stare at each other. “Me too,”
he says, and then slips away before anymore heartfelt exchanges can embarrass him further.

He discards the rest of his costume, hoodie tugged on haphazardly, backpack flung over his
shoulder. Jimin leans casually on the bar and scrolls through his phone, cheek pressed against his
hand.

He looks perfect, so Jungkook pulls him into a kiss.

“Let’s go,” he says, practically bounding out of the club with Jimin in tow.

Fashion magazines, lookbooks, and history texts might be a strange assortment of items to have
scattered around together, but it’s how Jungkook has spent his entire weekend after each shift.
There’s a rainbow of sticky notes inside each, notes scribbled on them.

A shirt flies past his head and lands on the bed, and he looks up to find Jimin frowning at… a
skirt?
“What is that?”

“A wannabe kilt,” Jimin says.

“Why do you have a kilt?”

Jimin sighs and tosses it onto the bed as well. “This model I really like wore one in a photoshoot
once and I thought I could pull it off too. Turns out, I can’t.”

“Bet you pulled it off better than you thought.”

Jungkook smiles as he continues digging through his closet, discarding item after item. A few them
Jungkook pulls aside as inspiration for his show design—a funky little cropped hoodie with stripes,
a pair of knee-high socks. He sketches them out in his notebook, along with a few outfits purely
from his imagination. Things he would kill to see Jimin in.

“Why do you have so many clothes?” he asks as Jimin chucks another item of clothing toward him.
It lands on his head, cascades down his face—a soft, sheer piece that he’s not even sure how to fit
onto a person’s body. He sets it in the “go” pile.

“Clothes are my replacement for therapy,” Jimin says. “You can take anything you want from the
stuff I’m not keeping, by the way.”

Jungkook picks up an obscenely tight turtleneck. “I don’t think I’ll fit any of your stuff. My
shoulders would rip right through this.”

Another shirt lands on him as Jimin laughs. “I have a few things I ordered online that are too big
for me. Here,” he pulls out a leather jacket and drops it in Jungkook’s lap, “try that.”

“I’ve seen you wear this.” Jungkook tugs the jacket on as Jimin watches. “It is way too big for
you.”

“Sometimes I like to wear it and pretend I’m a big, beefy biker man who chain smokes on street
corners outside of seedy bars.” Jimin straightens out the collar of the jacket for him, then taps his
knuckles beneath Jungkook’s chin. “Makes me feel alive.”

He retreats back to the closet, leaving Jungkook dumbfounded and grinning at him. “You’re so
fucking weird.”

“I know.” As Jimin yanks another shirt off its hanger, he eyes Jungkook’s books. “Hey, don’t
stress about it so much. I’ve seen your plans and they’re amazing. They’re gonna love it.”

Jungkook sighs, snaps his book shut, and flops back on the bed. “You think? It’s not too… I don’t
know, cheesy? I’m not being too philosophical about it? I mean, people aren’t really there for that,
right? They just wanna see us look pretty.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” Jimin huffs at a pair of pants as he holds them against himself, then
tosses them to the floor. “I think you were right about what you told Seokjin. The club isn’t just a
home to us. It’s a home to our customers. A safe place. I think poking a little fun at the rest of the
world, and maybe a little bit at ourselves, is good. Besides, the opportunities are endless with a
theme like this. I already have ideas for a solo act.”

“Of course you do.”

“Imagine dressing up like a sexy clown.”

Jungkook snorts. He can hear feet pad across the room, feels the bed shift as Jimin kneels on it,
straddles him. “You know what else I’ve been thinking?” Jimin asks.

“What?”

“I think that when they approve your idea, you should ask for a solo.”

Jungkook’s eyes pop open to look at Jimin, finding a mischievous grin on his face. “No way.”

“Absolutely you should. You would do amazing.”

“I don’t even know what kind of act I would do.”

“I would help you figure one out.” Jimin flattens himself out across Jungkook, arms crossed on his
chest, chin resting atop them. His fidgets with the leather jacket. “Besides, you’re talented,
hardworking, creative. You would figure something out.”

“I think I’d be too nervous to perform alone,” Jungkook says. He slips his arms around Jimin’s
waist, his shorts hitched up so far they barely cover anything. How has he survived living with
Jimin this long and not touching him until now?

“This is coming from the guy who strong-armed his way into a bartending job without shame and
then volunteered to cover someone on stage without having ever practiced with the group.” Playful
fingers dance across his chest, tapping along his clavicle. “I think you would do just fine.”

“Even if I did, I’m… not great at expressing myself. So I don’t even know what I would want to do
for an act.”

“You know that first solo act of mine that you saw?” Jimin asks, dropping a kiss on Jungkook’s
throat. “You know how I came up with that?”

Jungkook shakes his head.

“I took everything people expected of me and I flipped it on its head.” Another kiss. “Everyone
always thought I was so cute and pretty—”

“Oh my god, how dare they.”

Jimin bites his lip to stifle a chuckle. He shoves Jungkook’s shoulder. “Shut up. That’s not what I
mean. It’s great if people find me attractive, but it’s just… that’s all people saw me as. Cute, soft,
fragile. I had a guy tell me he was surprised when I took charge in the bedroom because he thought
I would turn out to be a pillow princess. Another guy told me I was perfect ‘house husband’
material. Things like that, you know? I was reduced to these stereotypes because of how I look. So
I took that image of the typical 1940s housewife, pearls and all, and came up with that act, where I
get to cast off all those layers people put on me that I never actually wanted in the first place.”

He traces circles over Jungkook’s chest.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with being cute or soft or any of that stuff.” He shrugs and kisses
the pattern he just drew. “But it doesn’t feel good to be pinned down as one thing. I’m pretty sure
people who see me in my leather jacket on my motorcycle see me and corner me as something
completely different—some bad boy, sex fiend, leather daddy, or something—and they’d be wrong
too. I’m not just one thing. No one is. So… what do people see when they look at you? Before they
get to know the real you?”
“Uh.” Jungkook shrugs, his fingers slipping beneath the back of Jimin’s shirt. “I don’t know. I
guess… people were always really surprised to find out I liked theater and stuff. I’d go to a new
school and they would immediately try to push me to try out for sports. Which, you know, that’s
fun. The competition is fun. But the stage was always a little more appealing.”

“Isn’t this the plot of the first episode of Glee?”

Jungkook laughs. “I think it is, yeah.”

“So, just think about that. What you wanna be versus what people expect you to be.” He drops a
kiss on Jungkook’s lips. “Just think about how you want the world to see you. Until then,” Jimin
pushes himself upright, running his hands down the front of the leather jacket, “you look so good
in this. I just wanna…”

He bites at his lip, and Jungkook grins.

“Yeah? You wanna what?”

“You know what I want.”

“Help with cleaning out your closet?”

Jimin laughs, thighs squeezing in on either side of Jungkook. “Yes, that’s exactly what I had in
mind. A sexy, leather-clad man cleaning out my closet.”

“That sounds like a great euphemism for something a lot more fun.”

With a smirk, Jimin nods and shifts on top of him. It makes Jungkook gasp, toes curling at the
pressure against him. His hands tighten on Jimin’s hips.

“The closet can wait,” Jimin says, and then ducks down to capture Jungkook in a kiss.

He feels Jimin’s smile, tastes the cherry balm on his lips. Hands slip beneath his jacket as he rolls
them both over, sharing playful tugs and bites. It’s always fun with Jimin, never boring, no
thoughts except making the other feel good however they can.

He likes the way they fit. If fate is real, it definitely led him right here on purpose.

♪♡♪

Jungkook’s foot taps anxiously against the leg of the stool as Seokjin flips through page after page
—his plans for the new show. He put in as much thought and detail as he could, explained
everything from top to bottom.

Yoongi leans over Seokjin’s shoulder to read, pausing to look over a few of the images. Every
second that they say nothing, Jungkook grows more nervous. He could have been more in depth
about the meaning, he could have mocked up more outfits, could have mentioned more details of
the sample acts he had thought up.

They’re gonna laugh him out of the office.

“This is… good,” Yoongi says, stroking his chin as he reads. He pushes a hand through his hair,
tongue running over his teeth. He’s on the last page. The page with Jungkook’s brief notes on types
of acts he thinks would fit everyone…

And his proposition for his own solo.

He feels sick.

“We can work with this,” Yoongi says as he hands the papers over to Seokjin where he’s propped
on the desk. “I like it. It has heart. It’s…”

“Better than what we have.” Seokjin gives a disappointed smile, but there’s a hint of fondness in
his eyes as he looks at Jungkook. He gives Yoongi a nudge. “I guess it pays to not be old and burnt
out.”

“Speak for yourself,” Yoongi grumbles at him. His eyes land on Jungkook again, that intense gaze
of his freezing him in place. “As for that last page.”

Oh god, oh god, oh god. Here it goes.

“You really think you’re ready for a solo?”

Jungkook nods, his throat too tight to speak.

Yoongi looks hesitant, foot tapping anxiously. His teeth work over his lip as he glances at Seokjin,
who gives him a nod. “He’s the only one who doesn’t have one,” Seokjin says under his breath, as
if Jungkook can’t clearly hear in the quiet office.

There’s a sigh—not annoyed, just tired. Yoongi looks so tired. Jungkook has been so wrapped up in
himself and Jimin and dating and stupid shit, he hadn’t even realized how much this show has been
wearing on everyone else.

“Okay,” Yoongi says. “If you think you’re ready.”

“Yes,” Jungkook yelps, as if he isn’t quick enough or loud enough they’ll take it away from him.
He clears his throat, face reddening. “I’m ready.”

“That’s settled then,” Yoongi says. He nods to Seokjin, who tosses the plans onto the desk. “I’m
actually impressed, Jungkook. A songlist, notes on dance styles, moods, comedy acts… You really
covered it all.”

Jungkook flies so high he hardly hears the compliments. A solo act. He’s getting a solo act. “I just
tried my best.”

“It’s a good start,” Seokjin says. “It’s a good theme. You have a knack for this.”

“Lots of theater growing up.” He sounds so nervous, he hates the way his voice shakes.
Downstairs, bass fills the room and thumps through the floor, and Jungkook jumps up. “Shit, I’m
gonna be late.”

Yoongi waves a hand, doing well to hide the smile on his face. “Go on. And, Jungkook,” he calls
as Jungkook stops at the door, “think about that solo.”

Jungkook nods, then rushes from the room. He slips mostly unnoticed through the dressing room
as he rushes for the bar. His bag is still sitting there, lazily dropped off as soon as he showed up,
forgotten out of anxiety as he headed for the office.

As he reaches the main floor, he collides with someone, nearly taking them to the ground before he
pulls them back upright. Probably a customer on the way to the bathroom. There’s an apology on
his tongue by the time he sees familiar eyes staring back at him.

“Hey,” Sungwoo says, but Jungkook brushes past him before he can say anymore. A hand catches
on his hoodie, tugs him back, and Jungkook shakes him off. “Can we please talk—”

“No.” Jungkook whips around to face him, jaw clenched. He takes on that stance he sees Jimin use
all the time—the one when he wants to be stubborn or scare someone off. He has a feeling it’s
more effective when Jimin does it. Jungkook doesn’t have the same grit. “We talked. You lied to
me, I told you I wanted nothing to do with that. End of story. We’re done.”

“I—”

“Give it up,” Jungkook snaps. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Sungwoo looks away from him, hands in his pockets. His lips a thin, tight line, brows scrunched
like he’s contemplating what to say next.

A bitterness bubbles up inside and, though hurting others has never felt right, Jungkook wants to.
For once, he just wants to see someone else be the one hurting instead of him.

“Besides, I’m with someone else now,” he says, and Sungwoo barely masks the surprise on his
face. “So there’s nothing left for you to salvage here.”

It shuts him down. That’s all Jungkook wants. He tells himself he doesn’t care that Sungwoo does
look pained, disheartened, as he walks away. And he sure as hell doesn’t meet his eyes as he grabs
his bag and heads upstairs.

When he’s back onstage for the night, Sungwoo is nowhere to be seen at his usual table.

The elation from the news of his solo wears off faster than expected, nerves setting in too quick.
Everyone else excitedly whispers about the possibility of a new show since Seokjin and Yoongi
are staying late, locked away in the office. They chatter about what type of solo they all want once
it’s official.

Jungkook just wanders out of the club in a daze, tugging his hoodie tighter around himself as he
waits. He’s had so many ideas for dances and acts and everything, and now that he has one within
reach…

Not a single step comes to mind.

“Hey.” Jimin sidles up behind him, arms around his waist. His hands slips beneath Jungkook’s
shirt to hide from the cold. The leather of his jacket rubs against Jungkook’s abs, cool against his
skin. He shivers. “Don’t worry about it right now. I told you I’ll help you with it.”

Jungkook wants to laugh. Go figure Jimin would know without having to ask.

Just before the club door opens, Jimin sneaks a kiss onto Jungkook’s neck and then slips away.
“Let’s go home,” he says, and they do—perched on the back of a motorcycle, wind in his hair,
Jungkook goes back home.

The first place to really feel like home to him. He’s fallen into new habits of stumbling tiredly
through the front door, hand in hand with Jimin, taking showers with him, falling asleep in either
his bed or Jungkook’s. They trade on and off who cooks dinner and Jungkook has been careful to
keep up his end of the chores.

He won’t say the words out loud, or really even let himself fully form them inside his own head,
but it almost feels like they’re dating. Honestly, what else do you call it when you fuck most
nights, eat dinner together, share chores, showers, beds, sometimes even clothes, and call each
other cute pet names?

“Kookie,” Jimin purrs against his ear in the shower. “You’re so tense.”

Jungkook tries to laugh it off, distract himself with the way Jimin lathers shampoo into his hair. A
kiss drops on his shoulder, and then Jimin tilts Jungkook’s head back to rinse his hair. He leans
into the fingers that trail down his neck, arms that loop around his waist. Jimin’s chin rests on his
shoulder.

“Are you just nervous about your solo? Or is there more?”

Is there more?

Well, there is the fact that he doesn’t know what to label them or what the “rules” are surrounding
their relationship now. After barking at Sungwoo about being with someone else, Jungkook
doesn’t really know if that’s true. Are they exclusive? Is this casual fun like it was supposed to be
with Sungwoo? Are they a thing? Will Jimin still sleep with other people?

Jungkook knows he doesn’t want to.

The water shuts off and Jungkook opens his eyes to find Jimin completely engulfing him in his
arms. “Talk to me,” he says through a kiss, and then pulls Jungkook out of the shower with him.
“Tell me all about it.”

Where does Jungkook even start? It would help if he had any idea what Jimin wants. He was
jealous of Sungwoo, right? That means he feels something. You don’t get jealous over a nice piece
of ass, right?

He thinks as they dress, and Jimin doesn’t push for an answer. All he does is drop onto the end of
the bed and watch Jungkook pace, gently smiling. It makes Jungkook want to throw himself into
his arms, wrap them both up in the blankets, and just cuddle close until they both fall asleep like
usual. Jimin is comfort incarnate for Jungkook. He doesn’t need to worry. Whatever he says
tonight, Jimin will understand.

They sit side by side, Jimin rubbing slow circles along his back as he breathes in deep.

“I don’t know… what I’m supposed to do with you.”

Jimin chuckles. “Okaaaay?”

“No, that came out weird. I mean.” Jungkook breathes in again, so deep his chest puffs out, and
Jimin looks as fond as ever. “I’ve been… having fun with you lately, but I don’t know what your
expectations are. Like, if we’re just fooling around. I mean, it’s a little complicated since we live
together. I could move out. Or maybe not. Depends on what you think.”

He rambles so fast, Jimin seems to struggle to keep up. His lashes flutter as he thinks, and then he
chuckles.
“Well, it can just be fun if that’s what you want,” Jimin says. He stares at his feet, curling his toes
into the carpet. “I don’t want you to feel like you… like you have to sleep with just me. I know a
lot of this is so new to you. I want you to be able to experience things with other people, if that’s
what you want to do.”

Jungkook tastes something bitter in his mouth. What is that? Why does he feel sick?

“Don’t limit yourself when there’s so much more out there, you know?” Jimin shrugs, but the
usually easy smile on his face looks strained.

“Do you want me to be with other people?”

Jimin stares blankly at him, an answer on the tip of his tongue before he silence himself.

“You said I could ask you to try anything, right?” Jungkook asks, and Jimin nods. Now is his
chance. He can say it. He can do this. Totally. “I’d rather just… try new things with you.”

He watches as Jimin’s mouth opens and closes, but still nothing comes out.

“I don’t really feel this way about anyone else,” Jungkook continues while he has the courage.
“Honestly, I don’t think hooking up is really for me. Sungwoo was fun, but even when we were
together, something always felt off. And I kept… thinking of you… whenever I was with him. So,
not sure it ever would have worked out with him anyway.”

Jimin nods, his hand mindlessly landing on Jungkook’s thigh. “Okay,” he says, like a gentle sigh
on the air. “If being with me is what you’re comfortable with, that’s fine. That’s cool. That’s
great.”

He acts casual, but Jungkook can see a smile trying to climb onto his face, all alight and full of
wonder. He’s happy about this.

“Whatever you need. I’m fine with that.”

Jungkook feels himself grinning, watching the way Jimin’s cheeks turn just a little rosier.

“You’re fine with that?” Jungkook asks, and Jimin nods a little too eagerly. “Or you want that?
Because if you’re just ‘okay’ with it but you’d rather I go be with other people, I suppose I could
try—”

“No, no. That’s not what I said.”

“That is what you said. You said you were fine with it, as in you can put up with me just wanting
you but maybe you’d rather I—”

“Okay, well that’s not how I meant it.” Jimin’s smile vanishes and he looks a little panicked, a
little annoyed

“How did you mean it then?” Jungkook pries. He just wants to hear it. He wants to know what
Jimin has felt for him all this time.

“I mean it’s great. I think it’s great if you want to exclusively sleep with me. I’m totally okay with
that. I like being with you.” Jimin crosses his arms, turns his head stubbornly away.

“Mhm, well, would you be exclusively sleeping with me?” Jungkook pulls Jimin’s hand back to his
thigh, and Jimin’s eyes snap to it.
“I… can.” His fingers tighten around Jungkook’s leg. “If that’s what you want.”

“Is it what you want?”

“I… want… whatever you want.” His eyes drift up.

“I want whatever you want.”

“Okay, I’m actually lost. What do you want?”

It takes everything for Jungkook not to laugh. “I wanna know if you don’t want me to sleep with
other people because you like me. Or what?”

Jimin gnaws at his lip, brows pulling up in the middle, eyes a little wide. Unblinking. Unmoving.
And then he nods. “Yeah, that’s why I don’t want you to sleep with other people. I mean it when I
say I don’t wanna limit you either, though. I care about you. So I want you to be able to do
whatever you want without any obligation to me.”

Jungkook feels that full-body tingling flush you only get when you’re truly happy. He’s excited,
though he tries to rein it in at least a bit so he doesn’t seem like a giddy grade schooler whose crush
is confessing to him.

“Maybe all I wanna do is you. Ever think about that?” He makes himself blush with those words.

“Okay. Okay, well… in that case…” Jimin’s hand slides up, tips of his fingers dancing beneath
Jungkook’s shorts. “You can do me right now if you want.”

Jungkook almost swallows his tongue. Yes. Yes. Please, yes. “Sure,” is what he says instead, and
Jimin laughs.

“I mean, if you don’t want to—”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Didn’t you, though? ‘Sure’ doesn’t sound very enthusiastic—”

Jungkook claps a hand over Jimin’s mouth. “Okay, I see what you’re doing here.”

Jimin kisses his palm, then trails up to his wrist. “You deserved that.”

“I did.” And he dives in, throwing his leg over Jimin. “Get on the bed,” he murmurs into a kiss,
feels Jimin laugh against his lips.

“I’m on the bed.”

“Farther back, I mean.” He gives Jimin’s lip a playful bite. “Why are you being such a brat
tonight?”

Jimin shrugs, legs wrapping around Jungkook’s waist to trap him. His thighs squeeze tight on
either side of his hips, his heel digging in and rolling up Jungkook’s spine, back down to dig into
his ass cheek and make him laugh.

“I’m happy,” he finally answers.

“You turn into a brat when you’re happy?”

Jimin nods, tongue darting over his lips and tempting Jungkook further. He leans in, his heart
pounding in his throat. Even after all their time together so far, he still gets anxious. He’s always
been shy, always been unsure of himself, so he’s never felt the most comfortable with intimacy. He
over thinks it.

He’s comfortable with Jimin, but it’s still hard to believe that Jimin wants him too. Sometimes he
thinks he’ll blink and this will all disappear, it’ll all be in his imagination.

“What’s wrong?” Jimin asks as his feet fall back to the bed, legs still cocooning Jungkook. “You
look nervous.”

Jungkook tries to smile, but he feels a little tremble in his lip, his hands. Yeah, he’s fucking
nervous.

“Just… worried…” God, this is embarrassing. “That I won’t make you feel as good… as you make
me feel.”

Jimin’s face softens. “That’s what you’re afraid of? Kookie.” His fingers card through Jungkook’s
hair, hands cupping his face and pulling him into a gentle kiss. “Look, I know you don’t have a lot
of experience—”

Red is the only color left in Jungkook’s face.

“—and that’s fine.”

Another kiss on his lips before he rolls them both over to lie on their sides, Jimin’s leg still thrown
over Jungkook’s hip.

“You don’t have to know everything. We all start somewhere,” he whispers against Jungkook’s
lips, pausing between words to kiss him again, and again, and again. “And you can learn with me.
Honestly, even if you’re figuring it all out, even if you have no idea what you’re doing, it’ll still
feel good, you know?”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Jungkook.” Jimin grabs his chin, giving it a little tug. “I like being with you. It feels good to be
with you. So even if you’re the biggest nervous wreck, it’ll still be fun. We can make it a good
experience, a fun memory of figuring it all out.” He brushes his thumb along Jungkook’s lip. “You
wanna know a secret?”

“Hm?”

“I was really nervous too,” he says, “that night you came into my room. I was afraid you’d regret
being with me, that it wouldn’t be what you thought it would be and you’d…”

He shrugs.

Jungkook feels warm.

Fuck feeling scared. Jimin looks perfect right now—soft and happy and gentle and kind—and he
wants him. He wants to be with him. Jungkook wants everything with him, to know what it’s like to
feel him in every way he can, any way that they’re both willing.

He throws himself over Jimin, curling a hand behind his neck to pull him closer. He kisses him the
way he always wants to, how he imagines kissing him everyday. Jimin’s hands grab at him
everywhere, fingers in his hair, his body arching up. It makes Jungkook’s heartbeat speed out of
control, how Jimin wants and needs and tugs at him.

To be wanted like this…

His hands shake as he reaches for Jimin’s shorts. How many times has he done exactly this with
him and was never so nervous? But all those times, Jimin seemed to lead him, kept charge. This
time, he lets Jungkook choose the pace as he kisses down his torso, simply guiding him down,
down, fingers still in his hair as he lifts his hips. Jungkook slides his shorts away.

This part, he can do. He knows how Jimin likes his mouth on him, knows that he’s ticklish along
the inside of his thigh but he likes it when Jungkook kisses there anyway. It makes his toes curl,
fingers tighten in Jungkook’s hair. His moans sound soft and musical as Jungkook’s lips wrap
around him, and he’s gentle. So gentle as he tilts Jungkook’s head up to look at him.

He stretches across the bed, shirt hitching as he reaches for the nightstand. Jungkook takes the
chance to drop a kiss right below his belly button. The quiet breath that escapes Jimin brings a
smile to his lips.

Jimin shoots him a smirk as he snaps open the lube. Out of instinct, Jungkook reaches for it—of
course he’ll finger Jimin, right? That’s what Jimin does with him. Right?

Wrong.

He feels dizzy as Jimin presses two slick fingers inside himself, on display for Jungkook. His lip
catches between his teeth as their eyes meet, barely managing to silence himself as he sighs, as if
it’s such a relief to feel something inside him. Jungkook wishes he had just told him before that he
wanted this—he would have done it in a heartbeat—but he just assumed.

Maybe he just shouldn’t assume, because he’s been missing out.

“C’mere,” Jimin says, beckoning him forward. His fingers slide back out, lacing with Jungkook’s
instead and slicking them up. As captivating as the sight is, Jungkook can’t help himself from
diving in to kiss him again.

He swallows down Jimin’s voice as he moans, fingers sliding in alongside his own. Jimin’s legs
hitch up around his waist, hugging him close, and everything feels so warm. Jungkook feels warm
from head to toe, inside and out, and he wants to melt. He wants to melt into Jimin, into his kisses,
into his embrace—to sink into him in every possible way and make him feel the same care and
devotion he’s shown Jungkook.

It’s not just about sex. It’s… everything. He wants to be the reason Jimin smiles in the morning,
why he’s happy to come home from work every night. He wants to be the one Jimin leans on when
he’s hurting, just like he has been for Jungkook.

He’s in love. He’s definitely in love.

Stupid, stupid, giddy love. The kind that makes you feel like nothing else matters in the world.

“How do you want me?” Jimin asks, his words trailing into a gasp as he guides Jungkook’s fingers
out of him. Lashes flutter over hooded eyes, his smile making Jungkook eager to feel it against his
own lips. He loves the curve at the corner of Jimin’s mouth when he smiles, the dip along his
cheek that Jungkook always wants to nuzzle into.

“How do you like it?” Jungkook asks, his breath hitching as Jimin tugs his shirt off over his head,
completely naked in front of him now. Fuck, he’s perfect—a work of art. He could sit and admire
Jimin like this for eternity.

Jimin’s smirk grows as he grabs a condom off the bed and flicks it at Jungkook. “From behind,” he
says, fingers playing with the hem of Jungkook’s shirt. “You can go deeper like that.”

If Jungkook wasn’t already totally gone for him, he would be as his shirt is yanked off and lips
meet his. Jimin takes his time, teasing at Jungkook’s shorts and slowly, slowly sliding them over
his ass. He gives a pinch to his cheek, earning a yelp and a laugh from Jungkook before they crash
together again.

It makes him less anxious, playing around like this. Jimin makes it fun, carefree. Just them in their
safe little bubble, no judgments, no expectations.

“Okay,” Jungkook says through a shaky breath, more as encouragement to himself than to Jimin.
“Turn over.”

Jimin cups his chin, holding him in a kiss, teeth toying with his lower lip. “Don’t be nervous, baby.
I promise, as long as you enjoy it, I will too.”

His fingers draw feather-light lines down Jungkook’s throat, knuckles trace down the middle of his
stomach, down, down to wrap around his cock and tug. It makes Jungkook jerk forward, lips
crashing sloppily with Jimin’s again.

He’s right. He’s right, as long as they’re having fun, then it’s fine. It’s not about being perfect. It’s
about being them.

Jimin flips over, hands twisting into the sheets, back arched and his ass in the air for Jungkook. It’s
like a pose for one of his performances, that same smooth smirk he always has. He knows exactly
what he’s doing to Jungkook right now, knows the way he can never take his eyes off Jimin when
he’s on stage.

Fuck it. He’ll make Jimin feel so good tonight he won’t be able to think of anything else.

He drops kisses along Jimin’s spine, molding his body into a perfect arc, head tilted back as his
fingers slide into him again. Jimin rocks back on them, taking him up to his knuckles as Jungkook
leans over him. He keeps them close, chest to Jimin’s back, wraps him up in his arm and kisses at
his neck. It makes Jimin turn to liquid in his embrace, and Jungkook leans back just enough to see
his face.

The blissed out smile, his lashes fluttering shut. His lips part in breathy gasps, his hand flattening
against the mattress before curling in with another thrust of Jungkook’s fingers, the slow drag back
out. Jungkook can feel the shiver down his spine beneath his lips as he kisses every notch. He’ll
worship every part of Jimin he can reach, make sure he understands how desired he is. How much
Jungkook has always wanted him just like this.

“Are you ready for me?” he asks against the small of Jimin’s back, trailing back up his spine as he
nods. He could do what Jimin did for him—could eat him out and make him into even more of a
puddle of pleasure, just like Jungkook was that first night.

But he doesn’t have the guts to do that just yet. Probably doesn’t have the skill either. Baby steps.

He pauses at the base of Jimin’s neck, listens to his gentle breathing, ghosting his lips over the little
peach hairs down the back of his neck. It makes Jimin shudder, distracting him from the grating
sound of Jungkook tearing open a condom. A hand grabs at his hip, pulling him forward, like he
can’t wait for Jungkook to be inside him.

Jungkook can’t say he isn’t feeling the same.

Jimin pushes himself upright, making them both kneel, his back pressed against Jungkook’s chest.
Hips rock backward, fitting Jungkook’s cock between his cheeks, wiggling slightly just to tease.
He chuckles at him, and Jungkook takes that as enough of an answer to go for it.

An arm loops behind his neck, Jimin tilting his head to capture him in crooked kisses as he
positions the head of his cock. His hand shakes and, yeah, he’s still fucking nervous. He convinces
himself it’s just excitement. He’s just reeling to know what it’s like, to understand how Jimin feels
when he fucks Jungkook. He’s always wanted to know if it’s as good for Jimin as it is for him. He
wants to know everything.

“Tell me—” Jungkook flattens his lips to silence himself, almost moaning at the first bit of
pressure from sliding inside Jimin. “Tell me if you— you feel good. Or need me to stop, okay? I
want you to—”

“Jungkook,” fingers tug at his hair, pull him into a kiss, “just fuck me.”

The hand on his hip yanks him forward again, urges him on, and Jungkook moans shamelessly into
Jimin’s mouth as he bottoms out inside him. He feels Jimin tense up against him, head snapping
back on his shoulder. His throat bobs as he swallows down a moan and, fuck, Jungkook didn’t
think it was possible for him to look any more beautiful.

Perfect. He’s perfect.

He feels perfect against Jungkook, warm and tender, his skin soft under his hands as they run along
his stomach. He lets his fingers ghost along the bend of Jimin’s leg, following that v-shape down,
watching the light tremor of pleasure and even surprise that runs through him. It looks like he feels
good already, and that’s all Jungkook can hope for.

His hand grips Jimin’s thigh, holding him in place as he rocks into him again, makes Jimin’s parted
lips form a grin. And Jungkook kisses it away. No more worries when Jimin looks at him like this.

He lets Jimin pick the pace, command the kiss, take him however he wants him. This is for Jimin.
Tonight’s for Jimin and whatever he needs.

His hands don’t shake anymore as he meets Jimin’s every movement, reduces him down to
pleasured gasps and little, breathy laughs, like he’s surprised and relieved to feel this way. His
fingers claw at Jungkook’s hands, at his hip, asking for more, more—the harder Jungkook goes,
the more Jimin seems to need.

And Jungkook’s head is completely clouded with the sound of Jimin, how he feels around him,
when he buries himself in him. Feeling the way his body reacts because of him. He doesn’t think
he ever wants this to end.

“Jungkook—”

He sounds breathy, almost delirious with bliss as he lets his head fall back on Jungkook’s shoulder
again.

“Can you—” His throat bobs as he swallows, Jungkook has to resist swooping in to nibble at it.
Jimin looks too far gone already. “Spank me?”
Jungkook’s hips come to a screeching halt. He’s fairly certain he actually hears his brain ceasing to
function.

Did Jimin…

Just ask him to spank him?

He chokes on his tongue when he tries to ask, and Jimin unfortunately seems to notice, glancing up
at him.

“Spa— Uh? Really?”

Jimin nods. “Yeah. It’s—” He blinks. “If you’re alright with that.”

“Sure. I think. I just didn’t know you liked— Or that you wanted—” Jungkook can feel his body
flushing hotter with every word. “We’ve just never done that when I’ve bottomed, so I never…
considered…”

Jimin huffs a breathy chuckle, head turning to meet Jungkook’s lips with his own. He reaches back
and tangles a hand in his hair, sweat clinging to his temple. Jungkook takes in the sight of his
hooded eyes, glossed over with lust, the tinge of red on his well-bitten lips. He almost dives right
back into it without letting Jimin respond.

“You never asked me to.”

“I didn’t know I could. Does it feel good?”

“I wouldn’t be asking for it if it didn’t.”

Jimin chuckles again, head tipping back on Jungkook’s shoulder once more as he pulls him into a
kiss.

“You can try it out on me,” he mumbles into Jungkook’s mouth, hips snapping back, burying
Jungkook inside him again.

That sole movement almost sends Jungkook into a fit, making this entire moment almost vanish
from his mind. He can barely contain the horribly loud moan that escapes him.

“And if you want me to do it next time, just ask. You can ask me for anything.”

Jungkook swallows down his nerves, arm sliding across Jimin’s chest to secure him in place. He
thrusts into him again, pulling a moan from Jimin before he lets himself nearly slip out. It makes
him shiver, the way Jimin immediately rocks backward again, trying to make himself full again,
wanting for him.

Taking Jimin’s lip between his teeth, nibbling at it, he shifts his hips to leave enough space
between them, and lets his hand slap against Jimin’s ass. It’s more like a light tap if he’s honest.

“Is that— Was that good?”

He can feel a smile against his lips as Jimin strokes his hair. “A little harder, baby.”

Harder. Jungkook clears his throat, heart slamming against the inside of his chest. He kisses Jimin
again, hand hovering awkwardly in the air, and then tries one more time.

The resounding smack that fills the room almost makes him jump, but he doesn’t get to dwell on
that when Jimin moans against his lips, how he clenches tighter around Jungkook. The room spins
around him. He hadn’t expected all of that, and if he wasn’t so nervous about fucking this up he
thinks he could enjoy it a whole lot more.

“Like that?” he murmurs into the kiss, and Jimin nods.

“Yeah. Harder. Again.”

This time, he tries to time it with the movement of his hips, pushing in and then spanking once
more as he pulls out.

Again, the smacking sound startles him, even when it mingles with the shuddery gasp from Jimin.
He pauses and, with absolutely no idea why, something switches inside his head and he laughs.

Maybe it’s just the nerves. Maybe it’s because the sound is honestly sort of hilarious and the fact
that it keeps scaring him is even funnier.

But he’s always been a nervous laugher. He even laughed in the middle of a performance of Romeo
& Juliet in high school because it was his first time being on stage. Who knows or cares at this
point? Because by now he’s completely lost his momentum and Jimin has noticed.

Jimin’s eyes flutter open, head tipping back to look at him with a puzzled expression.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says through a stupid, wide smile that won’t go away. “Sorry— I’m— I’m
not laughing at you. I’m just…” He shrugs. “I’ll try again.”

There’s a moment that Jimin almost looks like he might be annoyed, or maybe just dumbfounded,
but then he purses his lips together and Jungkook can see he’s trying not to smile too. He just nods,
like he wants to say something but opening his mouth will just make him break down.

And then suddenly he snorts and claps a hand over his mouth.

“Sorry. I’m not laughing at you either,” Jimin says, waving his other hand. “That was just— That
was so cute.”

He drops forward, face buried in the sheets to muffle himself as he laughs, and Jungkook can’t
help but start laughing along harder.

“Oh, shit, wait— wait—” Jungkook grips Jimin’s hips and shifts back. “It feels really weird to be
inside you when you’re laughing.”

Jimin only laughs harder at that as he turns over, hand on his chest, eyes squeezed shut. He sucks
in a deep breath, legs wrapping around Jungkook’s waist as he leans over him, head on Jimin’s
chest to feel the rumble of his laughter.

“I never— thought— someone would say that— to me—” Jimin’s breath sounds ragged as he tries
to catch it. “—in the middle of sex. Oh my god.”

His arms curl around Jungkook, hugging him tight as they collapse into each other, no strength left
to go on as they giggle in the middle of the bed. At least Jimin is laughing along. At least the
nerves have eased a little bit. Jungkook doesn’t know what he would do if Jimin had gotten upset.

He catches his breath, pressing a kiss to Jimin’s chest. Thank god it’s Jimin and no one else. Thank
god he’s always been the last to judge Jungkook. Otherwise he thinks he may have been scarred for
life. He would never have sex again.
It’s still embarrassing. He’ll never live this one down.

But at least it’s Jimin.

“Holy shit,” Jimin sighs as he finally calms down. He wipes at the tears on his face, grinning up at
Jungkook, who can barely even hold himself up over Jimin by now. “Alright. Let’s keep going.”

“What— Seriously?”

“You’re still hard, right?”

“Of course.”

Jimin covers his mouth, barely stifling another fit of laughter. “Okay, let’s keep going then.” He
flips them over, pinning Jungkook to the bed, fingers tight around his wrists. He smiles at
Jungkook through hooded eyes and strands of blonde, his tongue poking out, teeth catching his lip.
“You don’t have to do anything… extra, if you don’t want to. I’m happy just being with you.”

“Are you sure?”

He nods.

“I can work my way up to that kind of stuff,” Jungkook promises, and Jimin covers another laugh.
“Sound good?”

“Sounds great.” And then he sinks himself back onto Jungkook, just like how Jungkook rode him
their first time.

But he leans in, lets his lips hover inches from Jungkook’s, stares right into his eyes so Jungkook
has to watch the way his face twists in pleasure and still control himself. He wants this to last, but
at the same time he just wants the mindblowing orgasm he knows Jimin is about to give him.

Their lips brush against each other, warm breath on Jungkook’s tongue as he lets his eyes fall shut.
His toes curl with every snap of Jimin’s hips, his body pressed close enough that Jungkook can feel
the slide of Jimin’s cock along his stomach. He can’t move, his body totally at Jimin’s mercy, the
hum of pleasure through him rendering him limp, weak.

Even if he could, he wouldn’t move an inch. This feels right, this closeness, Jimin’s command,
knowing that the bliss on his face is because Jungkook can provide it for him.

Maybe he likes it a little too much, Jimin curling over him as he rides him, face tucked into his
neck as Jungkook bites at his shoulder. Anything he can to keep himself from coming too soon. He
wants more of this. So much more.

Jimin’s moans grow a little more pitchy, Jungkook’s more raspy, his chest heaving as he feels
himself edging closer and closer. With every movement, he loses himself a little more, like he
barely feels anything but Jimin anymore. Hell, he can’t even describe how the bed feels under him.
Is it soft or not? Is it even comfortable? All he knows is Jimin.

And then he feels the way Jimin snaps his hips forward, using the friction against Jungkook to get
himself off. He comes across their stomachs, tightening around Jungkook as he does, head
snapping back. Jungkook opens his eyes to watch him, watch the way his eyes squeeze shut and his
lips curl up.

His grip on Jungkook eases, and he takes this chance to finally grab at Jimin. He holds his hips, his
thighs, lets himself explore as Jimin rides out Jungkook’s orgasm, and it feels like fucking magic.
Jungkook has never felt such a shock to his system before, like he’s electrocuted. His whole body
goes rigid, heels digging into the bed as he slams up into Jimin.

God, Jimin won’t stop smirking at him—a prideful, wicked little grin, like he won something by
doing this.

It just makes Jungkook want to go again already.

He can’t help but chuckle at the sight of Jimin over him, hair pushed back from his forehead, brow
raised.

“Told you it would be fine.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook heaves a deep breath. “It was good then?”

Jimin nods, that wicked grin shifting to something more gentle, but Jungkook’s mind can’t wrap
around it just yet. Especially not as Jimin lifts himself off of Jungkook, his hands massaging over
his chest. He kisses Jungkook’s forehead before flopping over on the bed with a sigh.

There’s a pause, a comfortable silence as they catch their breath, and then Jimin chuckles.

“Can’t believe we had to stop and laugh in the middle of that,” he says.

Jungkook crawls his hand across the covers, blindly grabbing until he manages to lace his fingers
with Jimin. He keeps staring up at the ceiling through dozy eyelids, but he can feel the movement
from Jimin turning to look at him.

“Can’t believe I didn’t die of embarrassment.”

Another pause, and then Jimin laughs again, hand clapping over his face. He throws himself over
Jungkook again, kissing at his face. “I’m glad you didn’t,” he says, then presses their foreheads
together. “I’m glad we met.”

Jungkook wraps him up, with his legs, with his arms, everything, and rolls them over to pin Jimin
down. Sloppy kisses, pulling at hair. They slip right back into the pattern. Playful. Fun.

Giddy, giddy, stupid love.

♪♡♪

“Ooh, how about this?”

A pair of purple, silky boxers at least two sizes too small for Jungkook is shoved into his hands. He
lets it fall to the floor, earning a disgusted huff from Taehyung.

“No way,” he says, and Taehyung rolls his eyes as he picks them back up.

“Boring. You have to be willing to go hard or go home for a solo, Kook.”

Jungkook ignores that. He knows. And he has a million thoughts of what kind of performance he
could do, the costumes he would wear, but the thought of most of them… terrify him. He’s not cut
out for them. It would be better off to let the others perform them while he plans silently in the
background.

If he performs with the group, he’s fine. He’ll fuck everything up if he tries dancing on his own.
What is he even thinking?

“You okay over there?” Hoseok asks as he passes Jungkook with an armful of clothes. He merely
lifts a brow at Jungkook as he doesn’t answer, then continues to the dressing rooms.

No, he is absolutely not okay.

He’s scared out of his mind.

Across the little boutique, Jimin runs his hand along the sleeve of a jacket, and Jungkook can see
the wheels turning in his head to plot out a new outfit. Jungkook circles around and slips up behind
him to whisper in his ear, “Didn’t you just purge your whole closet?”

There’s a smirk from Jimin, then he jabs his elbow lightly into Jungkook’s ribs. “Yeah. Doesn’t
that just mean I have more room for new clothes?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“I mean, I’m not wrong, am I?” Jimin continues, wriggling backward, not so subtle as he presses
himself up against Jungkook.

It takes everything to not drag him into a dressing room right there. “Not wrong, but… haven’t you
been trying to downsize after watching that Marie Kondo or whatever?”

“Shh,” Jimin presses a finger to Jungkook’s lips, “do not invoke her name to shame me right now.
Let me buy this lacy collar in peace.”

“Where the hell are you gonna wear a lacy collar?” Jungkook teases. He knows exactly what
Jimin’s thinking when he looks at him again.

“Performances,” he says, “and maybe somewhere else if you’re into it.”

Jungkook bites his smile down, glances at the other dancers, and sneaks a pinch on Jimin’s ass. He
spins away, off to the other side of the rack before Jimin can retaliate. He doesn’t even pay
attention to the clothes, blindly flicking through shirts as he watches Jimin.

“Maybe I should put the collar on you,” Jimin says, “for a performance, of course.”

“Of course,” Jungkook says, pursing his lips into a serious pout.

A corner of Jimin’s lips tip up, just about to speak again when someone else cuts him off, “Alright,
at this point I should just say we all know you two are fucking.”

Their eyes snap over to Hoseok, who just shrugs.

“Sorry,” he adds. “But at least now you can just make out backstage instead of hogging the
bathroom all the time.”

Jimin’s face is red enough, so Jungkook can only imagine his own. He doesn’t dare look toward
the mirrors.

“So, um.” Jimin forces his attention back on the clothes, then waves his hand at them in disinterest
now. He circles around to the same side as Jungkook. “Are you okay with that?” he asks, nodding
toward Hoseok.

Jungkook glances at the others, working his lip between his teeth. He came to the conclusion days
ago that they probably all know anyway. His only worry is Yoongi and Seokjin.

“Yeah, I think so,” he says, and the look on Jimin’s face is… almost disheartened. “Not that I have
a problem with them knowing, like— I mean, it’s nothing to do with you. Just… don’t you think
they might have a problem with coworkers dating?”

Jimin’s brows raise comically high.

“Or whatever we’re doing.”

“We can call it dating once I’ve taken you out to dinner,” Jimin says as he turns his attention back
to the clothes. “And it’s really no one else’s business what we’re doing. Coworkers or not. We’re
adults. We can date if we want to and we can be mature if it doesn’t work out.”

Jungkook feels his stomach drop at the thought of this not working. Maybe it’s just that stupid
honeymoon phase everyone talks about making him feel so happy, but he hates the idea of not
feeling like this again in the future. With Jimin, specifically.

“Kookie,” Jimin coos, resting his hand atop the rack. He wiggles his fingers until Jungkook’s laces
his own with them. “Don’t over think it, okay? I know this is pretty new to you and I… I don’t
have the best track record with relationships, if I’m honest. But can we just agree now to take
everything in stride? We don’t have to worry about labels and dates and peoples’ opinions all at
once, alright? One thing at a time.”

And there it is again. That little bubble of comfort inside Jungkook. The type of comfort he only
feels from Jimin.

“Okay. One thing at a time.”

“Good,” Jimin says with a squeeze of his hand. “So the first thing to deal with is your solo.” He
lifts a shirt—a jersey, specifically—and grins.

Jungkook snorts. “I’m not dressing up as a jock.”

“Oh, c’mon. That would be amazing. Imagine you going out there with your beefy bod, dressed up
like a jock.” Jimin shakes the jersey at him. “I could teach you how to go dumb on a pole if you
wanted to do a strip tease.”

“No way. And that doesn’t even fit the theme of the new show,” Jungkook says through red cheeks
and laughter as Jimin tosses the jersey on his head. He tugs it off and throws it back. “Are you
saying you know how to pole dance?”

“Of course I know how to pole dance.” Jimin scoffs at him and throws the jersey over his arm,
along with his other picks of the day. “I’m a professional slut, Jungkook. Of course I learned to
shake my ass on a pole so I could bring all the boys to my yard.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, following Jimin across the shop. “Are you really buying that jersey?”

“I think it would look good on you,” Jimin says, then winks, “even if you don’t wear it on stage.”

“You are so horny right now.”

“Aren’t I always?” Jimin drops onto a bench and lays the clothes out beside him. “Alright. Time to
get real. We gotta find some sort of inspiration for your solo. Nothing here has sparked your
interest so far?”

With a heavy sigh, Jungkook plops down beside him, resting his head on Jimin’s shoulder. “I have
no idea what I wanna do. I feel like everyone else’s solos always have so much meaning. I can’t
think of anything special. I’ve been watching burlesque performances on YouTube nonstop—”

“I know. You keep waking me up by gasping whenever you see one you like.”

“They’re really good.”

Jimin chuckles into a kiss on Jungkook’s head. “What do you want people to know about you?” he
asks. “Because you know my act is about breaking out of the box people put me in. So what do
people think of you that you wish they wouldn’t?”

Jungkook stares out the front windows of the store, glances at the employees. They don’t look
back, but he imagines what they must be thinking. He and Jimin aren’t exactly subtle with their
affections.

His eyes drift to the jersey, to memories of high school and all the talks from coaches that told him
he was wasting potential by joining theater instead of sports. Then he looks to where Jimin’s hand
rests on his thigh, soothing him because he knows how anxious Jungkook gets about these things.
And he thinks of all the time he was told it wasn’t manly to worry so much.

To feel.

He can think of at least thirty times his own dad told him that.

“The right way to be a man,” he whispers, unable to speak any louder. Jimin’s hand squeezes his
thigh. He clears his throat. “Don’t cry. Don’t dress so flamboyantly. Why are you putting makeup
on your face and singing on stage? Dress like this. Walk like that. And then I came here and…”

Another squeeze to his thigh as he hesitates. Does he really want to say this? He doesn’t want Jimin
to think he’s ungrateful to their friends, that he holds any sort of resentment. He doesn’t. But it did
hurt at first.

“And everyone doubted me so much. No one thought I had the presence for the stage. Or that I
wasn’t outgoing or flamboyant enough or something. But that was just because I hadn’t accepted
that I was allowed to be that way now.” He swallows as Jimin nuzzles into his hair. “So… I think
I’d like to be all that. But too much of that, if that makes sense? Too tough, too much of a facade,
and then strip that all away and be… too much of what everyone thought I couldn’t be.”

“I think I know what you mean.” Jimin hops to his feet and gives Jungkook’s thigh a light slap.
“Come with me.”

Jungkook follows, pulled along by Jimin to another part of the shop. They come to a stop beside a
rack of… color. Hats, scarves, everything. There’s so much color it makes Jungkook’s eyes want to
cross.

“If you really wanna go all out,” he tugs something down, bright red, and throws it around
Jungkook’s neck, “feathered boa? Something like that?”

Jungkook purses his lips as he runs his fingers through the feathers. “Yeah, I think that would be
good. Definitely a lot of color, glitter… As for the tough guy part of it… I don’t know, maybe
that’s not what people thought I was—or maybe they did—but growing up as a foster kid, it’s
like… you’re fighting everyday.”

Jimin leans on a shelf, arms folded and chin resting atop them as he watches Jungkook. Always
attentive. So attentive.

“So I think that’s the personality I took on even when it never felt right. So at the beginning of the
stage, you know, maybe I’d go out there looking like a— a—” Jungkook snickers as he tries to
make himself say it, cheeks turning red. “Looking like a daddy dom, as I think Taehyung would
call it.”

Jimin chuckles, burying his face into his arms. Jungkook knows he’s not shying away from that.
He would never. He’s too shameless.

“I think you would make a beautiful daddy dom on that stage,” Jimin says. “Okay, tell me what
you’re thinking. Just let it all come out.”

“So I was thinking I go from this really tough, dominant persona at first, and then shift into…” He
flicks the boa. “I don’t know exactly what I wanna do. But for the tough guy look… you know that
one jacket of yours that you gave me? Because it’s a little too big on you?”

“Yeah,” Jimin says, lips turning upward, like he knows what’s coming.

“I kind of wanted to wear that… at the beginning of the performance.”

Jimin hides a smug smirk. “I think that sounds… like a fantastic idea,” he says, pulling Jungkook
closer by the boa. “Let’s get you all prettied up for the stage, yeah?”

He steals a quick kiss, then darts deeper into the store. Jungkook follows after, pausing a moment
just to watch the way he teases Hoseok with a thong he grabs at random. Hoseok leans away from
it, swatting Jimin’s hand, and Jungkook laughs.

No need to be nervous. He can do this. He can do a solo. And everyone here, no matter how much
they might tease him about it, they’ve got his back. They’re not going to let him fall flat on his
face. Especially not Jimin.

A sigh slips from Jungkook’s lips, fogging up the mirror as he leans in to check his lashes. He
blinks them rapidly, tries to unclump a couple of them before he gives up. Whatever. No one will
notice.

He ties his hair back as he nudges the bathroom door open with his foot, his heart thumping
nervously. There’s no reason for it. Tonight is just a normal performance. Nothing special. No
solos for him yet. He’s just… anxious.

Hands still fidgeting with his hair, Jungkook collides, chest to chest, with someone else. He
mutters a distracted apology, sidestepping to let whoever it is into the bathroom. But that’s when
he looks up and finds himself facing Sungwoo.

Maybe his anxiety is actually just clairvoyance. It knew this was about to happen.

“Sorry. Bathroom’s free now,” Jungkook says, as if this is just any other stranger, but Sungwoo
calls out to him before he can walk away.
“Can we talk?” he asks, and Jungkook wants to laugh in his face.

“No, we can’t, Sungwoo. I already told you there’s nothing to say—”

“There’s a lot to say if you’ll let me.”

“Kookie?”

Thank god.

Jungkook glances down the hallway as Jimin approaches, like a knight in shining armor… But in a
corset and a ruffled collar instead. He sidles right up next to Jungkook, linking their arms together
as he plasters a phony smile on his face.

“Hi, Sungwoo. You’re making Jungkook late for work,” he says. Lies. They got here early tonight.
“So, if you don’t mind.”

And he whisks Jungkook away, up the stairs. They stop just outside the dressing rooms, perched at
the top of the stairs as Jimin ruffles his hair.

“Asshole,” he says, “thinking he can just walk up on you like that.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just awkward, you know?” He catches
Jimin’s hands and pulls him across the hallway, into a little peck. “Besides, nothing to be sad about
when I’m with you now instead.”

“Mm, true. You did kind of hit the jackpot with me,” Jimin murmurs into another kiss. The ruffles
of his collar stick out just far enough to tickle Jungkook’s throat, the corset making his body feel
sleek and hard against him.

He feels hands trailing down his back, down to grope his ass.

Until someone steps into the hallway and clears their throat. They break away from each other,
Jimin crashing against the opposite wall as Seokjin glances between them, brow raised.

“I thought so. Can you two come into the office for a quick talk?”

Jungkook thinks he might die. It’s like being caught by your own parent while making out with the
town rebel. His face feels so hot he might burst into flames as Jimin takes his hand, pulls him along
toward the office. He thinks Jimin whispers something to him—probably something comforting—
but he doesn’t hear it past the panicked ringing in his ears.

What if they get fired? What if Yoongi wants them to break up? What if Jungkook is forced to
choose between his dream job or his dream guy?

This is not where he saw this whirlwind, perfect romance going. Maybe he’s watched too many of
those black-and-white romance films with Jimin. He’s used to everything just falling into place
with barely a hiccup along the way. But that’s not real life.

No, no, no, don’t have a fucking panic attack in the middle of the workday.

“Sit,” Yoongi says, and Jungkook nearly withers away when he sees Seokjin waiting for them as
well.

The click of the door sounds like a death sentence as he sits, hand in hand with Jimin. Yoongi plops
onto the desk.
“Are you about to fire us?” Jungkook blurts out in his panic, and Jimin squeezes his hand.

“No one’s getting fired,” he reassures Jungkook, then stares back at the other two with a
confidence Jungkook can only ever dream of having. “Right?”

Well, if they weren’t planning on it before, they probably are now.

Yoongi sighs, arms crossed as he and Seokjin glance at each other. Sometimes Jungkook swears
they communicate telepathically. What’s going on inside their heads? He needs to know before he
combusts.

“We’re not firing you,” Seokjin says, and Jungkook almost faints he’s so fucking relieved. “We
just wanna know if you two have really thought about this. Workplace relationships can be messy
and… it’s important that everyone here can work together well.”

“We just don’t want any issues between you two causing trouble here in the workplace,” Yoongi
adds. “Which might sound heartless, to put work first, but that’s our job. This place is our
livelihood and our passion. It’s not just about… keeping a team together for the sake of money or
anything.”

Seokjin pauses Yoongi with a hand on his thigh. “It’s not even just about this place,” he says. “It’s
also that, you know, you two don’t just work together, you’ve been living together basically since
you met. And it’s good to have boundaries and space in relationships. I—”

He takes a deep breath, hands running over his face.

“Listen, we’re not trying to be your gay dads here and tell you how to live your life,” he continues
as Jungkook once again holds his breath until he might faint, “but we care about you. We’re a
family here. We want what’s best for everyone.”

Yoongi just nods along, silent, all huddled up in his hoodie. Jungkook gets it. He’s not good with
words either.

“So we just wanna make sure that whatever this is, you guys are doing your best to keep it healthy
for yourselves and separate from your work life. Okay?” Seokjin pauses, and the look on his face
is so gentle, so kind, whether or not he intends to play the role of gay dad, he certainly feels like
one right now.

They both nod.

“So whether you two are just fucking or if you’re dating, or whatever you’re doing, we just want to
make sure we’re all on the same page and that your relationship won’t interfere with work, and
work won’t interfere with your relationship.”

“Okay,” is all Jungkook can manage to croak out, his hand sweaty where it curls around Jimin’s,
fingers laced together tightly.

“‘Course,” Jimin says with a glance at Jungkook. He’s sure the utter fear on his face is plain as
daylight.

Everyone stares at him with pity. Or maybe it’s terror. Maybe they’re afraid they’re about to watch
an actual case of spontaneous human combustion right in front them. Jungkook sort of feels like
they might.

“And for the record,” Jimin continues with grin that makes Jungkook fall all over again, “we’re not
just fucking.” He lifts Jungkook’s hand to his mouth, presses a kiss to the back. “We’re dating
now.”

♪♡♪

Books surround Jungkook, sprawled across his bed as he sits cross-legged in the middle of them.
Pictures of busty women stare up at him, wrapped in their feathered boas or hiding their faces
behind gaudy fans, barely half-dressed with their faces painted like works of art.

He has a million ideas and none at all at the same time. None of this is within his league. He’ll
look like an idiot up on that stage if he tries any of this. He’s not them.

Somewhere around an hour into sketching, crumpling up pages, shooting them into the waste
basket, and sketching again, Jungkook gives up. He flops onto his side, scrolling through his phone
instead as another oldie plays in the background.

He’s seen this one three times now, so he barely pays it any mind, zooming into a map on his
phone instead. There’s an apartment just a few blocks away from the club. A bit out of his budget,
but not impossible. He could get a second job—even though he’s doing nothing to get ready for his
current one, and his shift that’s only an hour away.

Better than overstaying his welcome here and ruining what he has with Jimin. This was never
supposed to be a permanent thing.

Seokjin’s words keep hammering themselves into his brain every time he goes to bed with Jimin,
every time he wakes up with him, every time they get home after a late shift and grab a quick snack
before knocking out in front of the TV.

Boundaries and space. What the fuck does that mean when you date and live and work together?

The sound of the front door has Jungkook locking his phone and shoving it under his pillow before
Jimin can catch a glimpse. So far, Jimin seems to see no problem with their current living situation,
and he doesn’t know how Jimin would take the news that he plans to move out.

“They didn’t have your favorite chips,” Jimin calls across the room, the sound of grocery bags on
the table reaching Jungkook. He heaves himself up to help Jimin unpack. “So I got these instead. I
hope that’s alright.”

Jungkook barely sees the bag he’s holding, leaning in to kiss him instead. “Totally fine,” he says,
and then slips his hand beneath Jimin’s leather jacket, a smile forming against his own. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Jimin says with another peck.

“How much do I owe you?”

“Kookie.” Jimin rolls his eyes as they begin the dull task of putting away their food. Jungkook has
been sure to stay on top of the little things—groceries, dishes, sweeping, trash, everything, hoping
never to fall back on the habits that had them at each other’s throats in the past. That’s a good start,
he thinks, to these healthy relationship goals Seokjin’s mentioned. “You don’t need to pay me
back. You only asked for, like, three things this time.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want you buying things for me.”

Jimin gives a playful bump of their hips as they pass by each other. “It’s a bag of chips. Not a
Ferrari.” He darts in for another kiss. “You’re good. Don’t worry about it.”

A ding signals Jungkook, pulling him back to his phone to see a new email updating him on
apartment listings. He clicks it, scrolling through and letting the numbers sink in. A few too many
digits for him to afford, like most have been. He sighs.

“Hey,” Jimin coos, closer than Jungkook expects. He fumbles to lock his phone again, dropping it
instead as Jimin places a gentle hand on his back. “Are you okay. You’re acting—”

He freezes, eyes on Jungkook’s phone. Jungkook can see the confusion on his face, and then the
hurt as it sinks in.

“Oh. Uh, I didn’t realize you were—”

“Okay, wait.” Jungkook takes a deep breath, grabbing Jimin by his arms so they face each other.
“Let me explain.”

“You don’t have to. I know you weren’t planning to live here forever. I just thought—”

“No, no, wait.” Jungkook sighs, head hanging. “Can we sit?”

Jimin nods, shedding his jacket. They climb over the back of the couch together, Jungkook tossing
the offending phone to the end of the bed as if it somehow betrayed him. He crosses his legs. Jimin
does the same. Their hands meet in the middle, folded together.

“This isn’t about wanting to move out or not enjoying living with you. I love living with you,”
Jungkook says. “But that talk with Seokjin and Yoongi sort of got to my head. So I was…
researching relationship advice.”

The way Jimin’s eyes soften melts his heart.

“And I kept seeing all these things about how it’s… definitely good to have space from each other,
not be too entangled, you know? Just like Seokjin said.” He feels like an idiot, sounds like such a
kid. “So I thought I’d move out and we could, like, date the way a normal couple would?”

It’s like Jungkook can see the worry seep from Jimin, the tension in his shoulders vanishing. Had
he really been that afraid that he had pushed Jungkook away somehow, made him want to move
out?

If Jungkook could stay in this bed, watching movies with Jimin, locked away in the little bubble
that is this apartment forever, he would.

“Oh, Jungkook.” Jimin pulls him into a hug, tangling them together across the bed. Jungkook
happily throws himself into the embrace. “You’re so sweet, but you don’t have to worry about that.
Your circumstances are a little bit different, so I wouldn’t expect you to just up and move out like
that. We can work out other ways to draw boundaries without kicking you out onto the street.”

“I wouldn’t be on the street,” Jungkook murmurs into Jimin’s chest. “I’d find a place I could
afford.”

“Another sketchy motel with cockroaches as your roommates?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Better than us breaking up because we didn’t have enough space.” He shifts
around to lean on the back of the couch, peering up at Jimin. “But it’s just, like, we live together,
work together, and I haven’t made… any of my own friends after months of being here. I don’t
want everything getting so entangled that we get sick of each other. I like what we have but I don’t
wanna ruin it.”

“I know.” Jimin runs his fingers through Jungkook’s hair, under the sharp angle of his jaw to tip
his head up. “I don’t either. But you’re not gonna solve it by running your bank account dry just to
move out. Our situation is a little… atypical,” he chuckles, and Jungkook turns to a puddle, “so we
might have to find some atypical fixes for it. And that’s okay. You don’t have to solve it all
tonight, though. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“If you want other friends, the guys all have their own places they go and hobbies they have, and
I’m sure they would be more than happy to introduce you to their friends or places where you can
find your own. We’re not gonna worry about you moving out until you are one hundred percent,
perfectly, financially secure. Got it?”

Jungkook nods, Jimin cupping his chin and nudging his lower lip with his thumb.

“As for work, maybe—” Jimin looks less than happy with whatever he’s about to suggest,
wrinkling his nose at the thought. “Maybe we draw the line at jumping each other every second
while we’re there.”

Jungkook’s expression mirrors Jimin’s.

“I know, I know,” Jimin says with a giggle as Jungkook falls forward into his chest again. “It’s not
like we have to act like a couple of fucking nuns there, but, you know, maybe getting caught
defiling every inch of the club is a bit much. At work, we work. At home, we can do whatever we
like.”

“I guess I can survive that.”

He feels a laugh in Jimin’s chest, and he peers up at him again.

“But if we can’t fuck around at work anymore,” he says, the anxiety fleeing from him as he crawls
over Jimin’s lap, “then we have to make the best of every minute we have here, right?”

Jimin gives a hum of approval, back pressed against the couch cushions, hands on Jungkook’s hips
as he hovers over him. “Do we have time before work?”

“Like an hour.”

“Good enough,” Jimin says, and then he tugs Jungkook down into a kiss.

This time, when Jungkook feels his heart racing it’s solely from adrenaline pumped through his
veins with every brush of fingers against bare skin. The tickle of cotton as it’s teased up his back,
mussing his hair before being tossed aside.

It may be quick and messy this time, but Jungkook laps up every second of it like his very own
vice, stupid drunk on Jimin’s lips and the way his fingers fit beautifully inside him. Intoxicated by
the way Jimin kisses up his spine as Jungkook sinks onto him, hands gripping the other man’s
thighs to brace himself. Soft hands curl at the bend of his legs, thumbs massaging over hipbones as
he follows the movement of Jungkook on top of him.
One hand snakes around to wrap around his length, stroking him to the rhythm he chooses. He can
feel Jimin shift inside him as he leans back, aching for a better view of himself inside Jungkook, so
Jungkook leans forward to give him what he needs.

It barely takes them any time to push each other to the brink now. If they need to be quick, they
can be quick. If they want to take their time, they do.

Jungkook wishes they could take their time right now. The way Jimin writhes beneath him, rutting
up into him as he gasps his name… He doesn’t want it to end. But they’ve already made their
choice. They’ll take what they can get. There’s always more time after work.

“Oh, fuck—” Jungkook gasps out, fingers painting marks across Jimin’s thighs as he rocks his hips
downward, one of Jimin’s hands dipping past his leg to tease at sensitive little places that would
have had him blushing only months ago. “Fuck, I think I just— got an idea for my solo.”

“What?” Jimin wheezes, and Jungkook would laugh if he wasn’t on the edge of orgasming and
losing the brilliant thought flying through his head. “Right now? Are you kidding?”

Jungkook gives his thigh a light slap, a dazed smile on his face. “No, I’m not kidding.”

“Fuck.” Jimin shifts under him, the movement making Jungkook groan as he feels more pressure
against his prostate. He pushes back against it, searching for more. “Well, then let’s finish up so
you can write it down.”

I love you, Jungkook almost says, but instead settles for a breathless laugh and a moan as he finds
his rhythm again.

There’s something in the kiss Jimin presses behind his ear that tells him he wants to say the same.

It’s a bit harder to keep their hands to themselves at work than they expected, but they manage.
Mostly. There may or may not have been a few slip ups over the past few weeks where they ended
up in the bathroom for extended periods of time, but if anyone notices, they don’t say anything.

For now, Jimin finishes up his set while Jungkook sits anxiously with Seokjin in the office, eyes on
the computer screen. Jungkook wants to scream, shrinking in on himself from the cringe of
watching his own mock performance play out. Jimin had graciously stayed after work a few nights
to help him put it together.

It’s overboard, probably, because the others simply propose their ideas, work out the kinks with
Seokjin, and then move on with the performance. But Jungkook is new. Jungkook still has to prove
himself. So he would rather go overboard than have them doubt their choice to let him have a solo.

Seokjin hits pause and spins his chair to face Jungkook, looking like the thinking emoji as he rubs
at his jaw.

It only adds to Jungkook’s desire to duck into his hoodie and never emerge again.

“It’s good,” he says with a smile that leaves Jungkook unconvinced.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Seokjin laughs, then gives Jungkook’s shin a playful kick. “You’re overdoing this. You’re
freaking yourself out. It’s not that deep. We’re not grading your performance. That would be like
grading your entire being. You did well, making it personal and entertaining at the same time. We
knew what we were doing when we gave you the solo.”

Jungkook feels like he’s ascending. He’s reached his peak. This is it. He has a job that’s fun,
coworkers and friends that care for him, and boyfriend that most of the time he can’t believe is
real.

This is it.

“Okay, you’re daydreaming again,” Seokjin says with a pat to Jungkook’s knee, “so I’m gonna let
you go do that outside of my office. I have work to do.”

“Right. Right, fuck, sorry.” Jungkook leaps to his feet, stumbling backward out of the office.
“Thanks. I’ll make sure I absolutely kill the performance. I won’t let you down—”

“I know you won’t. I’m a creative fucking genius. I know a good dancer when I see one.” Seokjin
waves his hands at him. “Shoo, begone. Go fuck your boyfriend in the supply closet or something.”

“Haven’t actually done anything in there. Too cramped,” Jungkook says with a grin until Seokjin
tosses a paper cup at his head.

“Keep it that way, you filthy animals!” he calls after Jungkook as he rushes for the dressing rooms.

Everyone is in their usual rush to get on stage, tugging fishnets into place and squirming into knee
highs. Jimin’s act is finished, by the sounds of it, but he’s not at his vanity.

“Where’s Jimin?” he asks as he passes Yeonjun, who shrugs.

“Went out to get coffee,” Taemin tells him. “Don’t worry, Lover Boy has your order memorized.
He’s getting you some too.”

“He better be,” Jungkook says, white-toothed grin and confidence galore. He feels like he’s riding
the clouds right now. “Otherwise I’ll have to break up with him.”

He loves that he even gets to joke about that now.

Jungkook bounds down the stairs to the bar, sliding along it until he plops atop a stool. Namjoon
turns to him with a curious brow cocked.

“You look chipper.”

“I am chipper, thank you. Actually.” Jungkook leans on the bar, his too-long fake lashes batting at
Namjoon as he rests his chin on his hands. “‘Thank you’ is exactly what I came here to say.”

Namjoon gives a bewildered laugh as he leans across from Jungkook. “You’re welcome?”

“For giving me my first job here. If you hadn’t taken a chance on me, no one else would have even
given me a second glance.”

“Oh, well, then, you’re welcome,” Namjoon says in earnest. “I’m happy you’re here. We all are.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Please, I’ve barely made a scratch on this place. It’s no different having
me here.”

“Sure, it is.” Namjoon slides a drink to him. Non-alcoholic, he assumes. Can’t have the dancers
tripping over themselves on stage. “You’re the one who came up with the new show. You lit a fire
under Yoongi’s ass, if nothing else. He was creatively drained before you showed up. Jimin was a
lot more bitter than he let on before you.”

“What?” Jungkook scoffs. “No he wasn’t.”

“Sure he was. He was sick of trying before you. Honestly I’m surprised he put in so much effort in
trying to sweep you off your feet. We all thought he was just trying to fuck you.”

Jungkook takes a sip of his drink, stares down into the blue liquid. “Oh.”

That’s all he can say. He never thought of himself as leaving any significant marks here. He never
thought of himself as significant at all. He’s just… here. He’s just Jungkook.

“Hey,” a breathless voice whispers against his cheek, the mirror behind the bar showing him a red-
faced Jimin as he pecks him. “Traffic was insane. I almost got run over like ten times. What’s
this?”

He lifts a brow at Namjoon and points at the drink.

“My boyfriend. I’m supposed to give him drinks,” he jests, sliding Jungkook’s coffee over to him.
“How did it go?”

“Good. He liked the performance.”

“Knew he would,” Jimin says, pulling Jungkook into a hasty kiss. “I gotta get upstairs to propose
my idea but I’ll see you on the stage, babe.”

Jungkook turns cherry red, nodding as Jimin rushes off with his armload of coffee. Namjoon
simply shakes his head as he slides down the bar to take somebody’s order.

The sound of Yeonjun’s solo erupts in the background, but Jungkook just stares down at his new
coffee, a smile on his face as he takes a sip. The red of his lipstick stains the straw, his thumb
wiping it away. Once upon a time, the reminder of such things would have embarrassed him. Even
as he dressed up and paraded himself across the stage, a little piece of him wondered what people
thought of him.

Do they think he looks ridiculous? Does this look not fit him? Is he trying too hard? Does he
compare at all to the other dancers?

Now, he barely thinks of it. Even if someone doesn’t think he belongs on that stage, he feels like he
fits there. And he’s happy there. That’s all that matters.

His eyes drift up to the mirror again and is surprised to see the sheepish figure of Sungwoo making
his way over.

Jungkook sighs. He supposes this has to happen eventually. If he’s going to face Sungwoo, might
as well do it while he’s brimming with confidence. Even this can’t bring him down from his high.

“Hey,” Sungwoo says as he leans on the bar, eyes on Jungkook’s coffee. He purses his lips, twists
his mouth off to the side. “I was just gonna… order something. But…”

“I’m sure Namjoon won’t be long.”

Sungwoo nods. “So, you and Jimin?”

“Yeah.”

“You two make quite the pair.”

“We do.”

Neither will look at the other, both wrapped up in themselves. Jungkook sits back on one of the
stools, foot tapping against the leg.

“You look good together,” Sungwoo says.

“Don’t go fantasizing about us when you go home tonight.”

Sungwoo chuckles. “I won’t need to. I have a date arranged tonight.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook lifts a skeptical brow. “Or are you just saying that hoping I’ll get jealous or
something?”

“No, I think you’re good. You and Jimin have had enough sexual tension since you met to power a
small village.”

Jungkook actually laughs at that, a real laugh rumbling all the way from his stomach. “Yeah,” he
says, “I suppose we have.” He swirls his drink around, silence between them but the band filling it
enough that he can pretend it’s not awkward. “So your date tonight. Does he know?”

Sungwoo takes a deep breath, picks at a spot on the bar.

That’s enough of an answer for Jungkook.

“You can’t keep dating around and not telling people about your wife, you know?” he says, feeling
like a parent chastising their child over basic table manners. He says it so casually he surprises
even himself. He can count on one hand how many weeks ago he would have stumbled over those
words or choked too much to say them at all.

“I can’t?”

“One of these days,” Jungkook rolls his eyes at his defiant tone, that childish smile, “you’re gonna
fall in love with someone and it’ll end up hurting you worse than I think you realize. And if they
fall in love with you too, you’re really gonna end up hurting them.”

Sungwoo ducks his head.

“And trust me when I tell you, nothing feels worse than hurting someone you love.”

He just nods, a silent acceptance that Jungkook is right. He knows he’s right.

“Yeah, maybe,” he says, fingers tapping across the bar. No ring on his finger, as usual. He takes a
deep breath, chest puffed up with false courage as he meets Jungkook’s eyes. “I don’t know if this
makes it better or worse but… I really did like you,

Jungkook. Under different circumstances, you’re someone I think I could have… gotten serious
about.”

Those are words he never thought he would hear from Sungwoo’s mouth. He stammers for a
moment, trying to gather his thoughts. How the fuck does someone respond to that? He has no
idea.
So he takes a page out of Jimin’s book.

“I am a pretty good catch,” he says, and Sungwoo chuckles. “I think you’ll find the right person for
you someday, though.”

“Maybe.” Sungwoo sighs and wrings his hands. “Do you think you did?”

“You mean Jimin?” he asks, and Sungwoo nods. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good.”

He glances over at Namjoon, busy explaining the ingredients of some drink to a customer.

“I’ll let him handle that. I’ll just… wait for the waiter,” Sungwoo says, and with that, he hops off
the stool, hands in his pockets as he steps back from Jungkook. He acts too polite—the smile on his
face, the curt little nod. “Tell Jimin he better treat you like a

king,” he adds. “Or else.”

“I will,” Jungkook says. “Good luck. With everything.”

“You too. With,” he gestures at the stage, around the room, “this and Jimin and everything.”

“Thanks.”

Sungwoo gives one last awkward nod, then spins around to return to his usual table. Jungkook
watches him go, takes in a breath deeper than he’s been able to in awhile. Like there’s been a
pressure, pushing down and making him struggle to even gasp. Whether it was Sungwoo himself or
just the unspoken, unsolved resentment.

It feels good to tie up loose ends.

He snatches up his coffee, bounding up the stairs to get ready for his next performance. Jimin slips
out of the office just as Jungkook reaches him, wraps him up with one arm and tugs him into a kiss.
Kisses him dizzy. Jimin catches himself on Jungkook’s arms, gripping tight to keep his balance
until Jungkook pulls back.

“What was that for?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Just feeling good today, I guess.” He kisses him again, the taste of Jimin’s own
coffee mixing with his own, sickeningly sweet. “We should go on a date after work tonight.”

“Oh.” Jimin beams. “Fuck yeah. I know a good place.”

“Perfect,” a peck on each cheek, “then let’s get changed and finish up this shift, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jimin sighs through a smile. “Let’s go.”

♪♡♪

“Can you believe— Can. You. Believe. That guy really thought he could just shove a pile of
money under my nose and I’d go on a date with him?” Taehyung asks, throwing his head back as
he laughs.

Hoseok shoots him a skeptical look. “Tae, you are sort of known for being a notorious sugar
baby.”

Taehyung’s eyes narrow into slits. “Yeah, but not just for anyone. I don’t date random dudes in
clubs. I am extremely selective.” He smirks around the rim of his beer bottle. “Looking like this
gives me that privilege.”

Jongin fakes a gag at him. “You’re fucking shameless.”

Jungkook watches them with pure amusement, leaning back on the chair Jimin sits in, Jimin’s legs
hitched over his shoulders, crossed over his chest. Jungkook runs his hand along Jimin’s bare leg,
thighs on either side of his head, a beer in the other hand.

Every one is barely dressed, all in tank tops and shorts, hair pulled back from sweaty faces. Late
nights and long rehearsals have been the norm for the past couple months, pushing everyone to
their limits. Jungkook’s body aches everyday, but this is the last one before they open their new
show. This weekend they get a break.

And then it’s game on.

Jungkook is dead nervous, but he thinks he’s got it down. He’s practiced extra long hours, Jimin
with him every step of the way. Unless something goes horribly wrong, he should survive his solo
without having a total meltdown.

Jimin’s fingers card through his hair, tilting his head back just enough to kiss his forehead. The
others continue their banter in the background, but Jungkook hears nothing as he stares up at Jimin,
upside down.

“You okay?” Jimin asks, hands rubbing down Jungkook’s chest. “You’ve been quiet all night.”

“Just tired.”

“Yeah, you were falling asleep on your feet during that last run. We can go home now, if you
want.”

Jungkook shakes his head, lets it fall back on Jimin’s thigh. “It’s fine. I wanna celebrate with
everyone tonight.”

“Okay.” Jimin folds himself over Jungkook, drapes his arms around him and kisses at his neck.

A light buzz pulls Jungkook’s attention to his phone, a text from Yugyeom waiting for him. A
picture—Yugyeom sitting on the back of a couch, peace sign over his eye and their old high school
friends gathered around him. They look drunker than shit, and Jungkook can’t help but smile.

“Who is it?” Jimin murmurs into a kiss on his shoulder.

“Yugyeom. Here.” He shows Jimin the picture. “I used to party with these idiots most weekends.
Though, partying for me was more about… standing awkwardly in a corner and hoping someone
would talk to me. While simultaneously hoping no one will notice me.”

Jimin chuckles. “Do you miss them?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes I wish I was a little better at making friends so I could… you know,
branch out a little bit and do stuff like this again.”

“Yeonjun invited you to go out with his friends, didn’t he? To that lake?”

“Yeah, but…” Jungkook shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t wanna piggyback off of anyone else. I
guess it also feels a little like, I don’t know, betraying my old friends by getting new ones,” he says
with a laugh. He knows how stupid it sounds. “But it would be nice to have people I could show
off my boyfriend to once in awhile. People who don’t know you so I can see them lose their minds
over how hot you are.”

The cackle from Jimin is wicked as he squeezes Jungkook.

“And sometimes…” Jungkook takes a deep breath as he stares at that picture. “Sometimes I wish I
had the guts to tell my old friends about you. About the life I have here now. Or that I had family I
could introduce you to.”

Jimin’s face grows gentle, compassionate eyes staring back at Jungkook. He thinks that is what
made him fall for Jimin in the first place. There’s not an unkind bone to be found in his body.

“Kookie—”

“It’s okay. I’m happy here.” Jungkook laces his fingers with Jimin’s, presses his hand over his
heart. “We’ll meet plenty of new people in the future,” he kisses Jimin’s hand, “that we can show
each other off to.”

Jimin smiles the softest smile, kisses Jungkook more gently than he thought possible.

And then Jungkook takes a deep breath and looks across the stage. “Hey, Yeonjun,” he calls out,
the younger staring back at him in surprise. “Is that invite for the lake still good?”

Yeonjun looks like he doesn’t believe his ears at first. “Of course.”

“Saturday, right?”

“Yeah.” A huge grin splits Yeonjun’s face. “I’ll pick you up.”

“Thanks,” Jungkook says, then looks up at Jimin again. “Gotta start somewhere, right?”

Jimin nods, cocooning Jungkook as he leans in for another kiss. “Gotta start somewhere.”

“Here,” Jungkook says, shifting around to press their faces cheek to cheek as he lifts his phone.
“I’ll send a picture back to them.” He glances down. “From the chest up. They don’t need the
booty shorts. That’s for my eyes only.”

Even if he can’t say it just yet, he can dip his toes in the water.

He snaps the picture.

“Hey, Jungkook,” someone calls, and he looks up with wide eyes to see Yoongi waving him over.

With a quiet “be right back” to Jimin, he rushes off stage, arms wrapped around himself. “Yeah?
Something wrong? Did I mess up in the rehearsal?”

Yoongi chuckles in disbelief. “No. You’re doing just fine. I just wanted to show you the mockup
for the new show’s poster.” He holds out a piece of paper, a shot of the troupe on stage, all done up
in their costumes, the red and gold lights illuminating them. A bold ‘Freakshow’ decorates the
bottom and, beneath it…

Jungkook blinks as if he might be imagining things.

His name. Credited as the concept creator.

He wants to cry.

“It only felt right,” Yoongi says, pressing the paper into his hand.

“I— Thank you,” is all he can think to say.

Yoongi shrugs. “Thank you.” He takes a deep breath, reaches out like he might hug Jungkook
before he steps back. With a curt nod and a little smile, he turns on his heel and leaves.

Jungkook stares down at the poster, a little blurry with tears now, and sniffles.

Talking the talk is easy, actually getting up on stage to perform his first solo is a whole different
story. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he should back out and someone else can fill in. Maybe
he’s not cut out for this after all.

He’s panicking.

Oh fuck, he’s definitely panicking.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Jimin asks, rushing down the hall toward him. He had hidden himself
away in a far corner of the club where the others couldn’t see him breaking down, texting Jimin to
please come find him before he climbs off the fire escape to avoid performing.

“I don’t think I can do this.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jimin coos, taking his face in his hands. He’s careful not to smudge his
makeup, kissing his cheekbone instead of his painted lips. “What happened? Last night you were
so excited you could barely sleep.”

Jungkook shakes his head, panic bubbling up again. This always used to happen in theater too. He
always does this. He always builds himself up only to break down at the last second.

“Hey, look at me.” Jimin kisses him anyway. “Kookie, you have practiced this literally until you
bled. Those bruises on your legs are more than enough proof of how hard you’ve worked for this.
You nailed every rehearsal. Last time, you never stepped a centimeter out of place. You’ve got
this.”

“What if I don’t—”

“Hey.” Jimin squeezes his face. “It’s okay even if you do mess up. The whole point in burlesque is
being as you as you can be. There have been times where I’ve gone completely off my routines and
just had fun. No one cares. Because you’re still up there, entertaining them, looking hot as hell.”

He smiles when Jungkook lets out a panicked laugh.

“Take a few deep breaths, babe,” Jimin whispers into his hair. “You’ve proven that you’re meant
for the stage. You belong up there, okay? Tell me you believe that. Because I do.”
Jungkook tries to nod, swallowing down his fear, his rapid heartbeat slowing, slowing, slowing
under Jimin’s hand.

“I’ll be right there next to the stage. So if you get nervous, look to me, and tell yourself you’re just
dancing for me. Just like at rehearsal. It’s just you and me, okay?”

“Okay.”

There’s another peck to his hair before Jimin pulls him into a full kiss. He feels like a child,
wrapped up in Jimin’s arms, so much smaller than he actually he is. He feels like the tiniest thing
in the world. Fucking terrified.

He closes his eyes and pictures their rehearsals.

It’ll just be Jimin.

Just him and Jimin.

Just them.

“Hey, Jimin,” he whispers, ducking his head into Jimin’s neck. “Thank you. You have no idea how
much you’ve changed my life.”

A quiet, maybe even tearful chuckle escapes Jimin, “I haven’t done that much, Kook. I just—”

“I love you.”

Pause. Jimin pulls back, eyes wide, and Jungkook almost panics again if not for the pull of Jimin’s
brows, sparkly eyes staring back at him. His lips twitch in the slightest smile, like he can’t quite
grasp the ability to control his face anymore. Caught a little too off guard for once.

Jungkook can’t blame him. Even he can barely believe he said that.

“I love you too.”

A phone buzzes, breaking the moment, and Jungkook glances down to see Yugyeom’s name.

“Are you okay now?” Jimin asks, and Jungkook takes a deep breath.

“I think so.”

“Good.” And then Jimin forgets the need to protect their makeup and presses Jungkook against the
wall, smothering him with kisses that would put romance novels to shame.

His lipstick is definitely ruined by the time Jimin steps back.

“I gotta get on stage soon but if you need me again—”

“I’m good. I promise.” Jungkook tangles their hands between them, holding on as long as he can as
Jimin backs down the hallway. “Thank you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

Jimin slips away, rushing back to the dressing room just as whoever is currently on stage finishes,
and Jungkook checks his phone.

Lost my phone at the party. Sorry I just saw this dude!!! Who’s the guy in the pic??

Jungkook takes a deep breath. If he’s about to face the stage alone, he might as well ride this little
wave of courage as much as he can. He clicks and presses the phone to his ear.

“Hey, man! I didn’t know you still knew how to call someone. What’s up?”

“Hey. I’m just— I’m getting ready for a thing but I wanted to call you real quick. Wanted to tell
you something. And it felt weird to do it over text.”

“Okay. Go for it.”

Jungkook closes his eyes, slides down the wall to sit curled in the hall. “Um, I don’t have a lot of
time. But… you were always a good friend to me. I still consider you one of my best friends. And I
always figured, one of these days I’d have you come visit me in the city, you know? Show you
around. So I think it’s only right that before that… I should tell that the guy in that photo…”

He breathes in. His hand trembles so much he thinks he might drop his phone before he gets a
chance to say it.

“That’s my boyfriend.”

There’s silence.

“Oh.”

“Is that okay with you?”

Yugyeom clears his throat. Jungkook can hear him suck air through his teeth. “Yeah, man. It’s your
life. You can do what you want. I—” He sighs, and Jungkook feels like shriveling up and dying.
“That didn’t come out right. I meant to say… you’re still you. You know? You’re my friend. You
were always my best friend.”

He pauses, and Jungkook finds his breath again.

“I don’t care if you suck dick or whatever, man.”

“Oh my god.”

“You’re still my friend. Okay?”

“Okay.” Jungkook laughs. He’s so relieved he laughs. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, dude.” There’s another long pause, and then, “Does he give good head—”

“Okay, I gotta go,” Jungkook says, eyes rolling at the laughter on the other end of the line. He
hangs up and almost immediately gets an influx of texts from Yugyeom, asking him everything
about Jimin.

He only gets to answer a few before he rushes for the dressing rooms, the last song before his
performance coming to a close. It’s a rush job to fix his makeup, but with a little help from Hoseok
and a lot of panic from Seokjin, he gets it done.

Jimin follows him to the edge of the stage, whispered comforts in his ear as they go. He gives him
 one last kiss, then ushers Jungkook onto the stage. He stays, just like he promised, right where
Jungkook can see him if he panics.

There’s no walking away now. He can see the band getting ready, sees Yoongi watching nervously
from the dark, backstage.

His heart leaps. He quells it.

Jimin shoots him a smile and a thumbs up. Jungkook tries to smile back, gulping down his fear one
last time, and closes his eyes. He adjusts his jacket, rolls his shoulders back, head up, confident,
like a true performer even if he doesn’t feel like one.

He can hear the cymbals rattling quietly from the band. Louder. Louder.

Louder.

And the curtains rise.

Chapter End Notes

Aaahhhh, this fic has been a long time coming and I know I teased it on Twitter a lot,
so I hope it lived up to expectations. I had a lot of fun writing something a little more
lighthearted for once. I love these silly burlesque boys and I'm gonna miss them. :')
But just know that they'll be cuddling happily in their apartment for many, many more
nights together.

Thank you all for reading and coming along on this adventure with me. Come find me
on Twitter to keep up with new fic updates, teasers, or just to see me sob over Jikook a
whole lot. Love ya! ♡

And, yes, the porn star-approved list of best lipsticks for blow jobs is a real thing.

Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!