It’s in the heat of an argument that Jungkook kisses Jimin for the first time.
They’re rowing over something stupid because their fights are always over stupid things. Jimin takes too long to get ready, so they’ve missed the beginning of the movie they wanted to see. Scratch that; they’ve missed the movie Jungkook wanted to see. Their shouting match goes on back and forth, back and forth - “We’re never on time for anything! How hard can it be to put on a pair of pants?” “Well, maybe I’d be motivated to get ready quicker if we were going out to do something I wanted to do for once!” - until Jungkook has a headache and tears are welling in Jimin’s eyes.
Jimin hates fighting, hates crying even more so when he realises Jungkook has seen his tears, he covers his face with his small hands. And Jungkook feels awful. He isn’t particularly fond of fighting either, especially when it’s with Jimin. Because Jimin is a crier and seeing Jimin cry does something to Jungkook. Sends something cold shooting to the pit of his stomach, like an icy ribbon tying itself around Jungkook’s guts until he feels like he’ll be sick. And then Jimin will feel bad for making Jungkook feel bad and Jimin will cry even more.
“Hey, hey,” Jungkook says, voice low and gentle as he approaches. Jimin is pressed against a wall in the empty movie theatre, face still covered and shaking. He takes Jimin’s hands in his own and, as carefully as he can, pulls them away, “Come on, hyung, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”
Jimin’s face is blotchy and red, his cheeks wet with tears. He sniffs and wipes roughly at his eyes in a way that would send their makeup noonas mad. “I’m sorry I made us late again.”
“That’s okay,” His voice is barely above a whisper as he pulls one of the sleeves of his hoodie over his hand and begins to so softly wipe away the tears from Jimin’s face.
They’re close, very close. Their bodies are almost pressed together but it doesn’t really click for Jungkook until he's finished drying Jimin’s tears. He pulls his hand away and almost flinches at the proximity. Almost. Jimin has his head tilted up at him, brown eyes wide and pupils blown. He notices Jimin gulping, but he can’t pull his gaze away from his dazzling eyes.
Jungkook knows Jimin is beautiful and he’s known that for a very long time. Throughout the years, he’s tried to ignore it, tried to laugh it off, tried to push Jimin away in hopes that the distance will serve to dissipate the heat that blooms in his chest whenever his hyung giggles at one of his jokes or strokes a hand through his hair. After a while, he recognised that that was never going to work and turned that tactic on its head because as Jungkook grew he realised that maybe he didn’t want the heat in his chest to lessen. Maybe he didn’t want Jimin to stop stroking his hair.
Maybe what Jungkook wanted his hyung to do a lot more than that.
And now that they’re alone with no one to force them apart, Jungkook doesn’t think he can bring himself to push Jimin away.
“Hyung,” He says, and he can hear the desperation in his voice. It’s strangled and needy and there’s no way he can disguise it as anything other.
Consciously or otherwise, Jimin moves impossibly closer. His hands leave Jungkook’s, find their way to the front of his hoodie. Jungkook dips his head.
“We shouldn’t,” Jimin breathes, but his lids are hooded and their noses are touching.
“Who cares,” Jungkook says, and then it’s all over. So many years of holding back, of telling themselves this is something they could never have - shouldn’t want to have.
Jungkook kisses Jimin like his life depends on it. He crushes himself to Jimin’s chest, pressing the smaller man back against the carpeted wall. Jimin spreads his legs slightly, allowing one of Jungkook’s thick thighs to slot between them. It’s heaven; wet and hot and messy. A deep, fervent moan falls from Jungkook’s lips and Jimin swallows it whole while one of his hands pulls free of the hoodie and finds its way into Jungkook’s hair. When a set of filed nails press bitingly into Jungkook’s scalp he becomes piercingly aware of his own arousal and jerks back with a gasp before burying his face into Jimin’s neck.
“Too public,” he pants out, after taking a moment to salvage what’s left of his self-control.
Jimin’s cheek rubs silently against his own in a nod, “You should take me home,” he says, his palm burning soothing circles into the base of Jungkook’s neck, “theatre floors are already sticky enough as it is.”
Jungkook breaks about three traffic laws that day.
Jimin likes to kiss in bathtubs, Jungkook has noticed.
He thinks it’s something to do with the intimacy. The tub in their apartment wasn’t built for two, so Jungkook almost always ends up with a lap full of Jimin. They’d use the one back in the dorms, but Hoseok’s never quite recovered from walking into their shared bathroom to find his two very pink dongsaengs butt naked and soaking wet. Sometimes Jungkook can still hear his screams.
Jimin straddles his waist - more like attempts it, really - and wraps his arms around Jungkook’s neck. Water drips from his overhanging hands onto the floor beneath them. They gaze into each other's eyes, taking a moment to enjoy the warmth of the water and the Seoul skyline that twinkles in the darkness outside the wide-open window to their side. A cool breeze floats in, brushes over their damp skin not unpleasantly. Jimin’s nipples harden and Jungkook can’t help but stroke his hand up from where it had sat at his boyfriend’s hips, slide it over sensitive, pebbling skin before grazing his fingertips over just one of them. He rubs it slowly between thumb and forefinger until Jimin’s mouth falls open in a soft sigh.
“Kiss me, baby,” He whispers, and Jimin obliges.
Bare wet chest against bare wet chest, they lazily make out until the water has cooled and they’re both shivering from more than just the drop in temperature.
“No kisses for you!”
Jungkook is good at video games. Jungkook is good at everything, actually - but he’s particularly good at video games. You can’t really tell right now, of course, but that isn’t Jungkook’s fault.
He’s in the middle of a match, trying his best to get to cover as Seokjin’s bullets rain down upon him. His eldest hyung winning this battle is not an option, so Jungkook needs to give it everything he’s got. The game needs his full attention. But that's easier said than done when Jimin is draped over his shoulder, whining in his ear.
“But I want them!” Jimin whimpers in one of his many cute voices. He’s rocking backwards and forwards, sending Jungkook doubling over then back up again from where they’re sat on their bed.
Jimin is insufferable when he’s like this but Jungkook suffers him all the same because he loves him, and that’s what you do when you love someone. You suffer. Or, your gaming suffers. Which is probably just as painful as actually suffering.
Jungkook wouldn’t dare say it out loud, but he’s pretty sure Seokjin sent Jimin as a distraction. Or at least put the idea of kisses in his head. Because Jimin’s craving for kisses is very real and he’s unlikely to relent until he gets his own way.
Jimin always gets his own way.
“Jungkookie!” He stresses, dragging out the ‘ie’ sound as he flings himself down, landing face-first into the sheets. “You hurt me. You neglect your boyfriend. After all the love I’ve shown you! You mean, mean man, Jeon Jungkookie.”
Yes, Seokjin definitely had a hand in this.
“I’m feeling betrayed.”
“I’m feeling underappreciated!”
Jungkook’s eyelids fall closed as he sighs, slow and self-pitying. He’s lost; both in-game and out.
Powering off his laptop, he slides it down the bed and well out of his reach. He’ll get Seokjin back for this one way or another - and this time the violence is unlikely to be virtual. Right now, though, he has more important matters to attend to. Like dealing with his treacherous other half.
He shakes his head, “I can’t believe you’ve done this to me.”
Jimin just turns onto his back and makes kissy noises. His conscience is clear.
“Oh, you’re not getting kisses ever again after that!” Jungkook lies, mock hurt saturating his tone.
Jimin’s voice is innocent but laced with a sultry undertone. He lets his lids fall to half-mast, drops his lips open until the gap between them forms a tiny, questioning ‘o’. Somehow, the shirt jimin is wearing - Jungkook’s shirt, he notices - has slipped out of place revealing a delicious sliver of skin that has Jungkook’s name written all over it. Blinking languidly, Jimin brings his hand up to his face, bites down on his own finger and tilts his head to the side.
“Can I have my kiss now, Jungkookie?”
In Jungkook’s defence, there’s not a man in the world that would be able to resist that.
“Baby, baby, baby,” Jungkook groans, dragging parted lips down the expanse of Jimin’s glistening, sweat-slick neck. He’s hard, and that’s a problem, but right now he can’t bring himself to care. Because Jimin is here and he’s drenched and Jungkook wants to eat him alive.
“What are you doing to me, baby?”
They’ve just come off stage - literally just come off. If they were to stumble back two steps, an entire sea of Army would get the shock of their fucking lives.
They’re getting brazen, sloppy.
Namjoon’s going to kill them.
“What am I doing to you ?” Jimin asks, laugh getting caught in his hoarse throat. He’s hard too, hips rutting against the thigh Jungkook has pressed between them. The stuttering of his breath gives away how close he is. God, if he cums now, here, with their fans just feet away…
“We gotta leave,” Jungkook says, making no attempt to move, “Gotta get you back to the hotel.”
Jimin just whines. He grabs a hand full of Jungkook’s long hair, crashes their lips together. The balm from Jungkook’s is already smeared all over Jimin’s neck and he smiles into the kiss as he tastes Jimin’s own.
“Could just fuck me right here,” Jimin gasps, throwing his head back so hard it hits the wall behind him with a sickening smack . It’s loud enough for Jungkook to pause, to stop pressing his cock so firmly against Jimin’s soaked stomach. For a second, Jungkook swears he sees Jimin’s eyes roll around in his head.
“At least that snapped you two out of it.” Yoongi smirks. He slaps Jungkook on the back of the head on the way past and the younger scowls after him.
“Come on, guys,” Taehyung grins, wrapping an arm around Jungkook’s shoulders and physically separating him from Jimin, who is quickly collected by Hoseok, “Before Namjoon starts pulling his hair out again.”
Namjoon is staring at his shoes, both scarred for life and so incredibly, incredibly exhausted.
Jungkook pouts as he’s dragged back to the dressing room. He’ll let himself feel guilty for Namjoon’s hairline later, but right now his mind is focused on Jimin and just what he’s going to do to him once they get back to that hotel room.
Jungkook likes Jimin best when he’s bare-faced.
It’s late evening when Jungkook returns home from hanging out with his friends. It’s rare that they’re all in the same place at once so he cherishes what little time he gets to spend with them. Still, he’s glad to be back in the familiar warmth of his apartment and he groans contently as he toes off his shoes in the doorway, swapping them for a pair of slippers and stretches his arms above his head.
The television is on in the living room, playing away to itself. Jimin is paying it no attention, sitting hunched over his iPad from his spot on the sofa instead. His neck is bent in an unnatural position and Jungkook clicks his tongue; his muscles will be sore tomorrow.
“Honey, you shouldn’t sit like that.”
Their apartment is open plan so he can watch with a whispering of satisfaction as Jimin jumps, head whipping around in shock from where he’s journeyed over to the fridge. He snickers as he opens it and grabs a chilled bottle of pop.
Jimin’s dark eyes are wide with fright until he catches sight of his boyfriend. Then his features soften, “I didn’t hear you come in. You scared me.”
Jimin has been watching cat videos. Again. Jungkook wouldn’t mind but Jimin has a way of being completely absorbed by the screen whenever something small and fluffy is featured on it and it almost always ends with him having neck pain.
But then Jungkook gets the privilege of giving Jimin a massage, so he can't really complain.
“Look,” Jimin smiles, opening his arms for Jungkook to climb in his lap as he walks over, “This one’s riding on the back of a tortoise.”
Once Jungkook’s settled with one hand holding his pop, the other tangling in the back of Jimin’s damp hair - he must have had a shower before Jungkook arrived, or maybe a nice relaxing bath - he presses a gentle kiss to his cheek.
“Not there,” Jimin whines, covering his pink cheek with the sleeve of his pyjama shirt, “I’ve got a pimple.”
Jungkook hums, drops a feather-light kiss right beside the red patch of skin where, sure enough, a pimple is starting to rise.
“It’s not cute,” Jimin whines, but Jungkook just kisses his cheek again.
“Super cute. Beautiful. Handsome.”
Jimin huffs, but the smile that pulls his plump lips taught is dazzling, “You’re the worst.”
“You love me,” Jungkook grins, wrapping his arm around Jimin’s neck as he settles more comfortably in his boyfriend’s lap.
“Yeah,” he nods and loads up another video, this time one of a cat that’s having a slap fight with a dog twice its size, “I love you a lot.”