"Maybe I'm just meant to be single," Jimin says sadly, after his third disaster of a date.

It's become somewhat of a trend lately. There's always the thrill of excitement when Jimin meets someone new, the hopefulness of 'what if', and then the worst part... the crushing disappointment when it doesn't work out.

"Oh, Jiminnie," Taehyung says, shifting closer so he can card his hands through Jimin's hair. "Jimin, if anyone was born to be loved, it's you. You'll find your special someone, it just takes time."

"Well he's taking too long," Jimin pouts, "I don't even know why I bother to put myself out there."

It's a lie. Jimin knows why he bothers.

Jimin wants to fall in love, wants to be giddy with it. He's never been good at being on his own; it takes the spark out of things when there's no one to share it with.

It's not like he hasn't tried to put himself out there. He makes friends, mingles with his peers, and dutifully goes on dates.

But Jimin who falls with his entire soul, doesn't know how much more of this he can take, how much more of himself he can give away when everyone seems to forget to give the parts of his heart they've taken with them back.

Jimin sighs, burying his face in his hands. "Maybe I should grow up and try dating older guys."

"What's wrong with younger guys?" Jungkook says, materializing in the living room holding a cup of warm milk.

"They have no game. They just wanna get in your pants and then boom they're on to the next sparkly thing-"

"TMI," Hobi protests loudly from his room.

Taehyung looks disgruntled at being interrupted, but obediently shuts up.

"I think you should try," Jungkook says quietly, when the living room lapses back into silence. He startles when they both swivel around to stare at him. "I mean--"

"He could be right," Taehyung muses. "After all, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone."

"That's not what I--"

"Tae!"

"Hear me out, Jiminnie," Taehyung says and Jimin sits back with a huff, "not just some random someone. Someone hot and older and experienced who would love and cherish you the way you, Park Jimin, deserve."

Jimin raises an eyebrow. "Like?"

"Like," Taehyung says brightly, "Namjoon hyung."

"Namjoon hyung is straight."

"What about Hoseok hyung? He bought an apartment but still lives here with you if that doesn't say love I don't know what-"

"LEAVE ME OUT OF THIS."

"Okay, I guess not." Taehyung taps his bottom lip thoughtfully. "Ooh, what about- Sejin hyung? He always buvs vour favorite coffee-"

"Tae," Jimin groans, "no! And for the record, he buys all our favorite coffees, that's literally his job."

Taehyung sighs flopping back onto the couch.

"What about.." His eyes swivel to Jungkook who is hunched over his phone, pretending not to eavesdrop. "Jungkook?"

Jungkook starts at the mention of his name, staring up at Jimin with hopeful baby deer eves.

The idea is so preposterous that Jimin bursts out laughing.

Jungkook frowns. "What's so funny?"

"Aww, leave him out of this, Tae," Jimin says in between fits of giggles. "Jungkookie's just a baby."

Taehyung 'hmms' in agreement, looking Jungkook over before shaking his head.

"It's true. He totally fails the 'hot and experienced' requirement. Jin hyung, on the other hand is a fine example of the benefits of dating an older man. Do you know the other day he did this thing with his tongue and I swear to God I was coming for fifteen minutes straight-"

"TAEHYUNG!" Hoseok roars, the bedroom door swinging open with such ferocity it rattles on its hinges.

"Annnddd that's my cue to go," Taehyung says, jumping up from the couch and running for the front door. "Sorry Jiminnie! Call you later, love you, bye!"

"Hey," Jungkook says later, when Hoseok's in the shower, having been suitably appeased with bribes of jajangmyun,

"did you mean what you said out there?"

"What I said about what?" Jimin says, pulling his headphones off.

Jungkook is leaning against the door, looking pensive, his oversized sweats falling over his ankles.

"What you said," Jungkook says, waving his hand vaguely.

"About, you know.

"Oh," Jimin snickers, "you mean about older guys being so much better at-"

"Why are you so against dating younger guys anyway?"

Jungkook asks, tongue poking the side of his cheek. He puffs out his chest when Jimin grins at him, trying to look bigger and more intimidating than he actually is.

Jimin just thinks he looks precious.

"I'm not against dating younger guys," Jimin says, eyes flashing with mischief, "I'm just against dating little babies like vou."

Jungkook growls, crossing the room in two steps to tackle

Jimin onto the bed.

"You! Take that back!"

"No way!" Jimin giggles, wriggling wildly when Jungkook climbs onto his bed to play wrestle.

He barely lasts a minute against Jungkook who easily flips him over and climbs on top of him, his muscular thighs bracketing Jimin's waist. Jungkook grins wickedly down at him, his dimples flashing and Jimin can already tell what's going to happen next and he doesn't like it one bit.

"Truce!" Jimin yelps.

"Who's the baby now?" Jungkook teases, his hands already sliding beneath Jimin's hoodie.

"Oh my god, oh my god, stop!" Jimin giggles when Jungkook begins to tickle him. "Jungkook--ahh!

Jungkookie, stop I can't--I can't breathe!"

"Say you're sorry," Jungkook commands. He catches

Jimin's wrists deftly in one hand when Jimin tries to wriggle out of his grasp.

It's a lost cause trying to win a fight with Jungkook so

Jimin doesn't try very hard.

"Sor-sorry," Jimin huffs out, in between more helpless giggling.

Jungkook leans back when Jimin goes limp beneath him, looking pleased.

"I'm not a baby," Jungkook says, his fingers gentle as he brushes the messy strands out of Jimin's face, "you're the baby."

He looks so serious about it that Jimin can't resist reaching up to cup his cheeks, squishing them between his palms.

"It doesn't matter how much you grow up, Jungkookie," Jimin says, "you're my baby. You'll always be my baby."

"I'm not a kid anymore, hyung," Jungkook says, pulling away with a frown, "I'm twenty three."

"That's still two years younger than me though," Jimin says, tweaking Jungkook's nose. "A whole 2130 bowls of rice less than me."

"I'm pretty sure I've eaten way more rice than you have," Jungkook says, his fingers gently stroking the prominent curve of Jimin's ribs in silent rebuke. "So.

"So?"

"So why wouldn't you date m-someone my age?"

Jimin wants to laugh at the petulant question, but when he glances up, he catches the way Jungkook's staring at him, dark eyes serious and that makes him reconsider.

He had just been teasing before, but now he wonders... why not?

Maybe it's because Jimin's tired of people changing their minds, of people outgrowing Jimin just as he's starting to fall in love with them.

You settle down as you get older, that's what Jimin's mother used to say.

But Jimin wants to settle down now. He's had the fame, he's had the success, the glitz and glamor, and a slew of awards to nrove it But none of that seemed to fill theemptiness in his heart when he lay in bed, alone at night.

It turns out, what Jimin wanted all along wasn't the Daesung, or the AMA or the Billboard Music Award. What Jimin wants is a love that will anchor him down in this crazy whirlwind they call life.

"I don't know," Jimin says, finally, "I'm tired of being with people who are just shopping around. I want to be with someone who knows what they want."

And, Jimin thinks, sadly, I want what they want to be me.

"Do you really think that has anything to do with age?"

Jimin thinks about the people in his life who've figured it all out. They're usually older than him, like his dad, of course and Bang PD-nim. Of his contemporaries, Namjoon and Yoongi top the list.

And then strangely enough, the next person that comes to mind is Jungkook.

He surprises himself with the thought because Jungkook is so young. In Jimin's mind, Jungkook will always be that little kid with big eyes and a bigger voice who Jimin's been looking out for since day one.

But even at thirteen, shy, reserved, Jeon Jungkook had always known who he was. Had walked his own path, standing by his beliefs with a fierce conviction that belied his quiet personality.

"No," Jimin admits, looking Jungkook in the eye, "I guess not."

"Hyung," Jungkook says, his breath skittering against Jimin's cheek, "people don't start knowing what they want just because they grow up."

"They don't?"

"No," Jungkook says softly, "sometimes, they just... they've

just alwavs known."

The next week Taehyung gets it into his head that Jimin needs to go out.

"How will you meet your soulmate, if you're sitting at home on the couch, eating ice-cream?" Taehyung demands, stealing the tub of Strawberry Cheesecake off of Jimin's lap.

"Tae," Jimin says, wrestling it back, "that's exactly what you did."

It doesn't matter that it's the truth. That Taehyung had wooed one worldwide handsome Kim Seokjin with tubs and tubs of ice-cream, in every flavor. That said seduction had successfully occurred on this very couch.

That Yoongi had screeched when he found out and demanded Taehyung pay for extensive dry cleaning, and subsequently banned Taejin collectively from the living room.

None of that matters in Taehyung's short lived memory because now that Taehyung is deliriously happy, he can’t stand the idea of Jimin being all alone.

Ergo, they have to go out.

“It’ll be fun, Jiminnie,” Taehyung wheedles, pushing Jimin past a stony faced Jungkook to get to the door. “There’ll be loads of hot guys there.”

“That’s what you said the last time,” Jimin sighs, “and look what happened.”

Still Jimin obediently goes, because Taehyung is insistent and excited, a combination that no one can resist.

“Tae,” Jimin says, when Taehyung disappears out the front door, talking a mile a minute to their driver, “hold on!”

A shadow looms over Jimin where he’s stooped on the ground, dragging on a pair of black leather boots and he glances up, ready to berate Taehyung, when.

“Jungkook?”

Jungkook’s standing in front of their walk-in closet, his arms crossed over his chest. He takes Jimin in slowly, his eyes trailing up Jimin’s tight black jeans, to the soft Valentino shirt he has on, stopping finally on Jimin’s face.

“Are you sure you want to go?” He asks, digging his hands into his pocket.

He looks lost, and forlorn, two expressions Jimin’s not used to seeing on Jungkook’s usually animated face.

“What’s going on with you, hmm?” Jimin teases, already reaching for Jungkook as he stands. He wraps his arms around Jungkook, pulling him in close so he can tuck his chin over Jungkook’s shoulder, “you usually can’t wait to get us out of the house.”

Jungkook sighs, his big shoulders relaxing into Jimin’s touch, but his hands stay firmly in his pockets, a tell tale sign that something’s up.

“What’s wrong, Jungkookie?” Jimin says softly, squeezing him around the middle.

Jungkook’s shoulders shift against Jimin’s cheek in a shrug.

“Do you want us to stay with you?”

Jungkook frowns, his eyes flicking to the open collar of Jimin’s silky shirt and the way it keeps slipping down lower as he moves, revealing the shadow of two perfect collarbones.

“No,” he says.

Jimin cups his cheek, turning his face this way and that, and Jungkook stares back, big doe eyes serious as he looks at him.

“I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong,” Jimin says, softly.

Jimin would keep holding him, would hug Jungkook forever if that’s what it would take to get that sad, lost look off his face. But Taehyung's voice begins echoing down the corridor and Jungkook hasn't asked him to stay.

“I’m going to go,” Jimin says pulling away, reluctantly, “I have to go, the driver’s already waiting.”

Jimin’s about to step through the door when he turns around to see Jungkook, still standing in the hallway exactly where Jimin left him, watching him go. And all of a sudden Jimin doesn’t really want to go to Gangnam anymore, not with Jungkook at home, wearing his comfy sweats, looking like a lost puppy.

“Hyung,” Jungkook says, biting his lip. He steps forward, and this close Jimin can smell the scent of their laundry detergent, the heady smell of lavender mixed in with the warm smell of Jungkook’s skin as he closes the distance between them.

His thumb grazes the curve of Jimin’s jawline, callused fingers gentle against Jimin’s skin before they dip lower, bolder in their exploration. Jimin sucks in a breath at how warm his hands are, when they slip lower, caressing the curve of his collarbones.

“Jungkook--" Jimin begins, and then stops because he forgets what he was going to say.

Jungkook nimbly buttons Jimin’s shirt to the collar, smoothing it down once before he steps away, but even then Jimin can’t help but feel the ghost of his touch burning straight through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Go on then,” Jungkook says, stepping back to let Jimin through. “Have fun.”

“I thought you were going out,” Jungkook says a week later when he stumbles into the kitchen to find Jimin there, pouting at his phone.

“I am,” Jimin says, frowning at his inbox which reads ‘no new messages’, “or that was the plan, but clearly that’s not going to happen because this asshole doesn’t know how to reply a text message.”

It turned out that Taehyung’s party idea hadn’t been a total bust.

It was a fun party and there were plenty of hot guys as promised.

Jimin had met Kibum who was standing by the watercooler, his biceps jumping as he leaned over to take a long drink from the fountain.

“Hey,” Kibum had said, swiping his hand across his mouth. “I’m Kibum.”

That’s how it begins, like every one of Jimin’s flings, giddy and exciting and filled with promise until—

Until Kibum had kissed him on the cheek and sent him home, promising to ‘hang out’ some other time, and then… never called.

So it’s Taehyung’s big stupid fault that Jimin’s dressed up in a silky button down that complements his skin and jeans so tight they could be painted on.

Both are supremely uncomfortable and Jimin can barely breathe, but he looks amazing.

Not that it matters, since it’s already seven o’clock and he still hasn’t heard a peep.

“Hey,” Jungkook says, laying his hand over Jimin’s wrist, waiting until Jimin looks away from his phone screen to speak. “Let’s go out for dinner, just the two of us.”

“Really?” Jimin says, blinking owlishly, “why?”

Jungkook’s mouth curves.

It’s cute, it’s a little sexy.

“Why not?”

It's a good question...Jimin doesn’t really have a response to that one.

“Don’t you want to?” Jungkook says, cocking his hip as he gestures at Jimin with his half eaten protein bar, “this Kibum guy is clearly a flake.”

“You’re one to talk Mister I-Don’t-Answer-My-Texts-Because-I-Don’t-Have-To."

“It’s only Namjoon hyung’s texts I don’t answer,” Jungkook mumbles, “and it’s because it’s usually about us taking on more work.”

Jimin laughs, tweaking Jungkook's nose. "True, but not nice."

Jungkook ducks his head, his shoulder brushing warmly against Jimin's arm. “I always answer your texts, though.”

“I know,” Jimin says, ruffling his hair, “you’d come running if I asked.”

“Don’t push your luck,” Jungkook says, but he’s grinning.

"So, you want to go out?"

Jungkook shrugs, "yeah."

"You? Jeon Jungkook," Jimin says, carefully enunciating each word, like he's speaking a foreign language and Jungkook won't understand if he doesn't, "want to go out."

Jungkook nods.

"You," Jimin says, even slower this time, "want to go out for dinner?"

Another nod.

"With me?"

Jungkook rolls his eyes, "yes hyung. Why are you acting like that's so hard to believe?"

“C’mere for a minute,” Jimin says, tugging Jungkook by his sleeve. Jungkook stills obediently, allowing Jimin to slide close and touch the back of his hand to Jungkook’s forehead.

“What are we doing?” Jungkook says, his voice hushed like he doesn’t want to interrupt. He stays perfectly still as Jimin inspects him, staring at Jimin with big trusting eyes and it’s so cute that Jimin wants to pull him close and bury his face into Jungkook’s jacket.

“You feel warm,” Jimin says, tugging Jungkook’s hoodie over his hair and pulling the hoodie strings tight. “Are you sure you’re not sick?”

“I'm sure,” Jungkook says, scrunching his nose, “why?”

"I don't know! It’s just so unlike you to want to leave the house. Voluntarily.”

“I like spending time with you," Jungkook says simply, "and you're already dressed up too, so.”

“Really?” Jimin brightens up immediately at the prospect of going out, “really? You’ll come? Should I make a reservation somewhere?”

“Nah,” Jungkook says, and he leans away from Jimin, scrolling through his phone. “I’ve already got somewhere in mind. Just give me twenty minutes to shower and get dressed.”

He looks Jimin over and smiles, a mischievous quirk of the mouth that almost takes Jimin’s breath away. “And hyung? Wear something you can dance in.”

“Aren’t you going to put me down?” Jimin asks tentatively, when a minute’s gone by and Jungkook’s arms are still wrapped firmly around his back.

“Are you going to stop whining?” Jungkook asks, but he sounds amused.

“No,” Jimin says petulantly.

“Then, no.”

True to his word, Jungkook knocks crisply at Jimin’s door at half past seven. He’s gorgeous, his long hair stylishly mussed, in an all black ensemble that makes him look taller and broader than he actually is.

When he leans in to straighten out Jimin’s collar, Jimin catches a whiff of his cologne, and it almost makes him weak in the knees.

“Jungkookie,” Jimin mumbles, suddenly shy. “You clean up well.”

Jungkook just smiles, that adorable smile that makes Jimin’s heart flutter, and holds out his arm. “Shall we?”

The restaurant Jungkook picks is exactly the kind of place Jimin likes — understated and elegant, with carpeted floors and mahogany paneling down every wall. A waiter greets them at the door and, to Jimin’s delight, doesn’t even bat an eye when they shed their masks.

“This way please,” he says, ushering them behind a curtain to a separate dining area, filled with patrons who seem as eager as they are to remain anonymous.

When they get to their table, Jungkook slides Jimin’s chair out, waiting for Jimin to settle in before he takes his own seat.

“How did you grow up so fast?” Jimin teases.

Jungkook shrugs off the comment, leaning back in his chair and playing it cool. But when he lifts the menu to his face, Jimin can tell he's grinning.

It’s funny because they must have done this a million times already — getting dressed up to go somewhere together, driving together, eating together. But maybe it’s because Jimin’s in his ****-me pants, and Jungkook, who never gets dressed up on their days off, is in a Lanvin suit, silk shirt falling open to reveal the ‘V’ of his chest. But Jimin can’t help seeing Jungkook differently, noticing the way his veins strain against his forearm as he slides the menu over, noticing more acutely the way his head tips back when he laughs, the way he watches Jimin intently when he talks, like he can’t see anyone else.

It’s easy to open up and laugh when it’s just the two of them. Jimin blooms under Jungkook’s gaze, giggling easy and telling stories as Jungkook watches him, a small fond smile tugging at his cheek.

When a half drunk restaurant patron accidentally jostles Jimin’s chair, Jungkook’s up in a minute, standing protectively over him.

“Are you okay?”

And even though Jimin insists that, he’s ‘fine, Jungkookie’ and the other patron apologizes profusely, Jungkook switches their seats, loops his arm protectively around Jimin’s waist and leaves it there for the rest of the meal.

They end up in a club.

It’s a place Jungkook hates and a place Jimin can never tire of.

Despite the loud music and the crowds pulsating against them, Jungkook’s still smiling when he ushers Jimin past the entranceway and to the bar.

“Why are we here?” Jimin murmurs leaning in close so he can be heard over the thumping music of the club.

Jungkook drops his hand to the back of Jimin’s neck, kneading gently.

“You like clubs,” he says simply, and leaves it as that.

It’s Friday night and the bar is teeming with patrons. Jimin’s just about to tell Jungkook so when Jungkook tilts his head at the bartender, who nods and immediately leads them to an enclave on the side, out of sight of the other club goers.

“What can I get you gentlemen?”

Jungkook leans his arm casually over the back of Jimin’s chair as he orders two shots of whiskey, neat, Jimin’s favorite. Before Jimin can protest, he’s already sliding his glossy black card across the bar, with a couple of won notes thrown in for a tip.

The bartender thanks them with a nod, and leaves them alone again.

“I’m older though,” Jimin protests, “I should be buying.”

“It’s different this time,” Jungkook says and Jimin feels a hot thrill of excitement when he leans in close enough, for their shoulders to brush. “I’m the one taking you out.”

“Jungkook…”

“What?” Jungkook says, amused, “is there something on my face?”

Jimin shakes his head.

“No,” he says slowly, and can’t help the smile blooming across his face, “you’re just, so.”

What was that word Jimin was looking for again?

Adorable, perfect, wonderful, lovely—

“Gentlemanly,” Jimin says softly.

“It’s about time you noticed, hyung,” Jungkook says, holding Jimin’s gaze until he colors and looks away first.

When Jungkook leans in to down his shot of whiskey, Jimin’s eyes follow the long line of his neck, the dip in the hollow of his throat as he swallows.

Feeling his cheeks heat, Jimin picks his own glass up and downs it too, hoping the naughty voices in his head shut up.

By the time the music turns into a sultry slow beat, Jimin is well on his way to being wasted. He tugs Jungkook by the hand onto the dance floor, Jungkook rolls his eyes but goes willingly, interlacing his big hand in Jimin’s so they don’t lose each other in the crowd.

Jimin closes his eyes, losing himself in the swell of the music. It flows like liquid silk through the air, and Jimin can feel the heavy beat resonate in every muscle of his body. Beside him, Jungkook is moving too, and when Jimin opens his eyes, the neon strobe lights of the club highlight his handsome face, the cut of his jawline and the dark smear of eyelashes against his tanned skin.

They’ve performed like this, on stages across the world, but something about this is intimate too, with Jungkook willing and here, sharing this moment and this thing they both love, with Jimin.

Jimin winds his arms around Jungkook’s neck to pull him close until their foreheads meet.

“Thank you,” he mouths, as Jungkook dips his head in acknowledgment.

Jungkook might have said something more, but some guy comes up and grabs Jimin by the waist, his fingers digging into Jimin’s hips as he tries to grind up against him. Before Jimin can even retaliate Jungkook’s shouldered between the two of them with a dark glare, the muscle in his jaw jumping.

And Jimin’s never had a problem standing up for himself, but it hits different as he stares at Jungkook’s big, broad back, his sleeves rolled up and tattoos showing, his biceps bulging as he stares the other man down into submission.

Its different because Jungkook knows full well that Jimin has a black belt in kendo and taekwondo, because Jungkook knows Jimin could kick both their asses, easy, and yet…

It’s a curious feeling, Jimin thinks, being able to rely on someone else.

He doesn’t know what to do with how much he likes this new feeling.

Jungkook turns around again when the guy backs off and the moment he sees Jimin, his face does a one eighty.

“Hyung,” he says, softly, “are you okay?”

Jimin nods. His sweater has slipped down his right shoulder in the altercation, revealing a generous expanse of pale skin. Jungkook notices first, and his fingers are gentle as they graze Jimin’s skin, when he leans it to fix it back into place.

“Do you want to stay?”

Jimin nods, sliding an arm around Jungkook’s neck to pull him close, so he can rest his forehead against Jungkook’s shoulder. Jungkook’s hands come to settle at his waist, stroking lightly through his sweater.

“I’ve got you, hyung,” Jungkook murmurs, his breath tickling Jimin’s ear, and Jimin shivers, at the conviction behind his words. "I'll keep you safe."

“I don’t wanna dance with anyone else,” Jimin whispers into his collarbone, “ just you. Is that okay?”

“It’s more than okay,” Jungkook says and pulls him closer.

They stay like that, bodies so close they could almost be one in the middle of the crowded dance floor and everything is just perfect.

Three hours later, they’re standing on the sidewalk in the freezing cold and there isn’t a cab in sight. They’ve been out on their feet all evening and now Jimin is tipsy, and whiny and wants to go home.

He says as much as he bounces from foot to foot, complaining about his stupid tight leather shoes, and his feet that hurt, and his problematic shoulder. Beside him, Jungkook huffs, rolling his eyes before he picks Jimin up bridal style and holds him there, like he weighs nothing at all.

“Aren’t you going to put me down?” Jimin asks tentatively, when a minute’s gone by and Jungkook’s arms are still wrapped firmly around his back.

“Are you going to stop whining?” Jungkook asks, but he sounds amused.

“No,” Jimin says petulantly.

“Then, no.”

From where he is, Jungkook looks so good, the dim lights catching on his collarbones, as he stares across the street looking for an empty cab. Jimin’s lost looking at him, how perfect he is, how lucky he is that they met. He doesn’t know anyone quite like Jungkook, sweet and talented and humble and generous, who would pick Jimin up and carry him just because he was tired. Who would spend his day off, doing a thing he hates just because he thinks it would cheer Jimin up.

There’s a gentle tap on his nose.

“What are you thinking about?” Jungkook says, smiling, and the street lamp paints stars in his eyes, and Jimin doesn’t know what he’s thinking except how much he adores Jungkook.

“I’m cold,” Jimin says and Jungkook chuckles, and draws him closer.

Jimin feels warm all the way home, and all the way as he showers and tucks himself into bed.

Before he closes his eyes, his phone buzzes with a message from Jungkook.

‘Sweet dreams,’ it reads, as if Jungkook hadn't poked his head around the door just ten seconds ago to wish Jimin goodnight.

Still, the text makes Jimin smile, and that night, he really does have the sweetest dream.