4

“Kookie,” Jimin mumbles when a young girls rushes past them, “someone’s gonna see.”

Jungkook’s eyes are crescents above his mask.

“Let them see,” he says, “it’s not like they haven’t seen us holding hands before.”

“But,” Jimin protests, but Jungkook’s already sliding onto the ice, taking Jimin with him and Jimin laughs at the cool wind on his face and forgets what he was worried about.

“You’re gonna burn a hole in that thing, staring like that,” Yoongi grumbles as he settles down next to Jimin at the dining table. “What are you doing?”

Jimin sighs, staring at the latest text from Kibum asking him to come over. After the last time he’d stood Jimin up, he’d texted the very next day apologizing profusely, explaining that his photoshoot had run till dawn and he’d been so exhausted when he’d gotten home he’d fallen asleep before setting an alarm.

It’s a legitimate excuse, Jimin can’t count the number of times he’s done that himself and Kibum was so earnest, so desperate to make it right, Jimin’s heart had immediately softened.

“Let me make it up to you,” Kibum had coaxed over the phone, “please?”

So they’re texting again, and dating again, sort of. But that doesn’t help very much when Jimin’s stubborn mind keeps wandering back to dinner a few nights ago and the way Jungkook’s big warm hands wrap around his waist, and the way his lips curve, dark and full of promise under the strobe lights.

Jimin quickly shakes the thought away.

“Kibum wants to go on a date.”

“Who’s Kibum?”

“You know,” Jimin says, waving his hands, “the guy I met at Taehyung’s party.”

“Oh.” Yoongi says in a way that clearly says no, he doesn’t know, but he doesn’t care to find out either. “So? He wants to take you on a date. What’s the problem?”

There is no problem. It’s Jimin’s off day and there’s nothing stopping him from going over to Kibum apartment. Nothing, aside from the niggling fact that Jimin, kind of, maybe, doesn’t want to.

“Well?”

“I thought you didn’t care about my dating life, hyung."

Yoongi snorts. “You’re thinking so loudly, I can’t not care, even if I wanted to.”

He leans his chin onto his elbows, fixing his gummy smile on Jimin. “So Jimminie, my favorite dongsaeng, are you going to tell hyung what’s bothering you or not?”

Jimin sighs, slumping down into his seat.

“It’s not bad,” he says, and Yoongi snorts again, but when Jimin glances up at him, he just shakes his head and waves him on to continue. “But all we ever do is like hang out at his place and eat take out, and honestly I’m going crazy in there.”

“Why are you even dating this guy?” Yoongi says, “I don’t think you’ve said one positive thing about him since you started seeing him.”

Jimin opens his mouth to defend Kibum, quickly realizes he has nothing to say and shuts it again.

“Well,” Jimin says, in a small voice, “he’s… cool, kinda.”

“Okay,” Yoongi says, raising an eyebrow. “Lots of people are cool, I wouldn’t call it a compelling reason to date.”

“But,” Jimin protests, “there’s nothing wrong with him. He’s… nice to me. Really.”

The memory of Jungkook leaning over the kitchen counter, his black silk shirt falling open to reveal his muscled chest flashes in Jimin’s mind, and he squeezes his eyes shut and wills the thought away, his cheeks flushing pink.

Yoongi shoots him a knowing gaze. “He’s nice. Okay.”

“I just don’t… I don’t know. I wish he’d take me out sometimes. On a date.”

To dinner, Jimin’s mind traitorously adds.

“Did you tell that to your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my— never mind. But it wouldn’t matter. Kibum’s not big on going out.”

When Yoongi raises an eyebrow Jimin hurriedly adds, "it’s a legitimate concern, someone could see us, and we’re both idols so.”

“So you’re fine with that? Hanging out with your boyfriend indoors, cooping yourself up in his apartment all day long?” Yoongi says, disbelievingly, “you? Mr Park Jimin, Mr I-Once-Played-Tennis-for-Six-Hours-Straight-Then-Jumped-Into-The-Pool-Because-I’m-hyperactive? That Park Jimin?”

As much as Jimin doesn’t want to admit it, Yoongi’s right.

Kibum hates going out, he’s made that part clear. And with their tentative relationship just on the mend again, Jimin doesn’t want to rock the boat. But Park Jimin wasn’t made for staying indoors. It’s bad enough when they’re on tour and he has no choice but to stay in his rooms to avoid getting swarmed, but now that he’s finally on a break, Jimin wants to spend the day basking in the sun, doing something fun.

Yoongi is still looking at him expectantly, and Jimin is only saved from answering when his phone buzzes and Jungkook’s name flashes across the screen.

kookiekookiejungkookie 2.19pm

what are you doing?

i’m playing tennis w hobi hyung wanna come?

Jimin brightens immediately at the thought of being outside and playing tennis, and seeing Jungkook again and before he can even think about what he’s doing he’s already dashing back to his room, pulling on his sweats and throwing his socks, racquet and tennis shoes into a bag.

“I’m guessing that’s not Kibum,” Yoongi says flatly when Jimin shows up in the kitchen five minutes later, smiling stupidly at his phone.

Jimin falters, guilt welling up inside him as he thinks about Kibum’s unanswered text.

Maybe that’s why you’re always alone, Jimin thinks a little hopelessly, because you’re too selfish to be in a relationship.

“Hey,” Yoongi says, gruff voice cutting through Jimin’s spiraling thoughts, “If you’re gonna date someone, I’d put my money on the the guy who has you smiling like a goofball, not the one who makes you come up with excuses to get out of a date.”

He stands leaving a mess of takeout boxes on the table, ruffling Jimin’s hair affectionately before he disappears down the hallway and back to his room.

It’s not a competition. Not even close. Jimin sucks in a breath ‘x’ing out of his conversation with Kibum to text ‘send me the address’.

Less than three seconds later, Jungkook’s sent him a purple heart and a map to the tennis club.

But by the time Jimin arrives, the tennis game is long over and Jungkook and Hoseok are laying on a shady patch of grass, panting.

“I’m done,” Hoseok mumbles, sprawling out on the ground, his limbs akimbo, “remind me never to play against Jungkook.”

“But I just got here hyung,” Jimin pouts, prodding at him with the toe of his sneaker, “we should at least play a round.”

“I can’t move, Jiminnie,” Hoseok wheezes, “please, no more.’

Hoseok is content to sit in the shade and watch Jimin and Jungkook play the next match, laughing loudly at their antics.

Jungkook’s good but Jimin’s fast and isn’t against playing dirty so the game quickly devolves into chaos as Jimin starts aiming the balls to hit Jungkook and in retaliation, Jungkook volleys them high up into the sky so they bounce out of the court. Jimin’s pretty sure the resident tennis instructors would have a fit watching them play but he’s having too much fun to even care.

At some point, Hoseok begs off entirely, saying he wants to go back to the studio to work on his new song and reluctantly, Jimin lets him off with a hug.

The afternoon sunlight slants through the eaves and the spring air is still cool and crisp. Jimin really, really doesn’t want to go home. He steals a glance at Jungkook who is standing on the court, bouncing a tennis ball up and down with his racquet.

“Hey,” Jungkook says when Jimin approaches him, throwing his arms around Jungkook from behind. “The guy at reception said there’s a basketball court around here somewhere, wanna go look for it?”

“Why do you wanna look for a basketball court?” Jimin says, lifting his face from where its smothered in Jungkook’s back to stare at him suspiciously.

Jungkook is terrible at basketball and Jungkook hates losing. And Jungkook would absolutely lose at basketball to Park Jimin, king of the jump shots.

Jungkook shrugs, turning around in Jimin’s arms so they’re looking at each other, face to face.

“Don’t you like basketball, hyung?” He says, and it’s so casually thoughtful and so completely Jungkook that Jimin’s heart skips in his chest.

“I like basketball,” Jimin mumbles.

Jungkook smiles then, his eyes crinkling and his lips pulling back to reveal his bunny teeth.

“So let’s go,” he says, and when he turns to walk away he reaches for Jimin’s hand, leading them both toward the club’s lobby.

Jimin, still a little dazed by that smile, can only tighten his fingers in Jungkook’s, and follow.

It turns out that there is a basketball court and at this time of day it’s blissfully empty. Jimin whoops when they run onto the court, grabbing a ball and immediately starting to chase Jungkook down, like his life depends on it.

The impromptu dodgeball match, predictably doesn’t go Jimin’s way, but Jimin stops pouting when Jungkook gives up on a long range shot to jog up to him and boop him gently on the head instead.

“That’s really unfair, by the way,” Jungkook says, even though it sounds like he’s trying hard not to smile. “You can’t just pout at people like that. It makes them want to help you win."

Jimin laughs, dribbling the ball Jungkook tosses at him. “This is the handicap. You don’t see me protesting over your long legs or your big muscles or how fast you run.”

“You were literally pouting over all three of those things.”

Jimin flashes a pretty pink pout at Jungkook, doubling over with laughter when Jungkook actually freezes, deer in the headlights, long enough for Jimin to hit him squarely in the chest with a basketball.

“Now you’re playing dirty,” Jungkook growls, and launches himself at Jimin who laughs and takes off running in the opposite direction.

“I hate this game,” Jungkook says, when Jimin scores his ninth straight hoop to Jungkook’s big fat zero.

Jimin laughs, easily stealing the ball out of Jungkook’s hand and tossing it into the hoop. The ball kisses the rim of the hoop and then, after one agonizing moment goes in.

“And that’s ten!” Jimin whoops, running to grab the ball so he can line it up for a second shot.

Predictably, it goes in. Again.

Jimin didn’t spend all those formative years at school doing nothing.

Despite his complaints, Jungkook’s still smiling even as Jimin dances around him in some ridiculously wild attempt at a victory dance. Jungkook doesn’t ever step off the court, although as the hour passes, he gives up on trying for hoops and goes all out attacking Jimin while he shoots, resulting in a ton of fake penalties that leave Jimin lying on the floor giggling.

“It’s so nice out here,” Jimin mumbles, from where he’s lying on top of Jungkook’s stomach.

They’re staring up at the blue sky, clouds shifting restlessly above them, Jungkook is warm and solid against him, and his fingers absentmindedly dig into Jimin’s bad shoulder, massaging away the achiness of the day.

“Ready to go home?” Jungkook asks, his fingers raking gently against Jimin’s scalp.

“Yeah,” Jimin says reluctantly, thinking about the text message he still hasn’t replied, “we probably should go.”

Jungkook pushes himself to stand first, reaching out a hand to help Jimin up. Jimin laughs, pouring his full weight into Jungkook’s hand in an attempt to take him back down again but Jungkook doesn’t even waver as he hauls him up to stand.

Jungkook’s hand is warm and callused in his own, from all the gym sessions he’s been doing, but it’s familiar, and big, the hand Jimin’s held on stage for seven years, and even longer off it.

Jungkook doesn’t let go of his hand when they stand so Jimin interlaces their fingers, swinging their joint fingers happily as they walk back to Jungkook's car.

They keep holding hands over the gearbox, Jimin only letting go long enough to fiddle with the radio. Jungkook doesn't say anything, but he hums, his thumb sliding against the back of Jimin's hand in comforting circles. Jimin wonders if it should feel weird, holding hands with your best friend, but it’s just them Jimin and Jungkook, Jungkook and Jimin, and nothing feels weird about that.

Riding shotgun with Jungkook gets Jimin intimately familiar with exactly how grown up their maknae has become. Jungkook drives with a lazy confidence, one arm resting on the steering wheel, his sleeve rolled all the way to his elbow, the wind in his hair. Jimin gets distracted by the tattoos spidering up his bicep and the veins that strain heavily against his forearm whenever he turns the wheel.

Jimin’s so busy looking he doesn’t notice Jungkook takes the right instead of the left that will take them home and by the time he's noticed, Jungkook’s already pulling into an unfamiliar parking lot.

“Wait a minute,” Jimin says looking around, “this isn’t our dorm.”

“Like you really wanted to go home.”

Jimin blushes. After so many years, Jungkook can read him like a book.

“But where are we?”

“Skating rink,” Jungkook says, leaning over to the passenger side to pulls out a beanie and a black face mask from the storage compartment.

Jimin’s heart stutters traitorously in his chest when Jungkook leans over, his sweater brushing up against Jimin’s cheek as he tugs the beanie down over Jimin’s head, before smoothing down the baby hairs.

It’s a skating rink that’s kind of out of the way and at this time of evening it’s already quiet. Still, Jimin’s surprised when Jungkook reaches for his hand and tugs him along to the rink.

“Kookie,” Jimin mumbles when a young girls rushes past them, “someone’s gonna see.”

Jungkook’s eyes are crescents above his mask.

“Let them see,” he says, “it’s not like they haven’t seen us holding hands before.”

“But,” Jimin protests, but Jungkook’s already sliding onto the ice, taking Jimin with him and Jimin laughs at the cool wind on his face and forgets what he was worried about.

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