Chapter Text
Jimin has always been driven.
He was driven whether it was selling lemonade on a street corner as young as five years old or whether he was working multiple part-time jobs to pay his way through his business degree. Jimin was hardworking, ambitious, and he sure as hell was going to go places, high places.
After three years of being within a big corporation (read: being a coffee bitch and literal slave for snotty executives), his direct boss decided it’s time to put Jimin through a real test. A test that would send Jimin across the world and put his job (and fucking life) on the line based on how well he pitches the corporation’s ideas to a bunch of big-wig investors.
So, Jimin is thinking it’s perfectly acceptable to be constantly rehearsing the presentation, both in Korean and English, since his arrival at the gigantic international airport. Stares will be damned because he just continues onward with murmured words under his breath through the check-in (which, holy crap, first-class tickets are worth more than a month’s salary), security points and the first boarding call.
Jimin may not have ever done this before but he’s pretty sure everything is going to be just fine and dandy. A first class flight attendant glances at his ticket when he boards and motions to which side of the plane he will be situated. She also tells him that she’ll be right with him to give him his complimentary champagne. That’s right, cham-fucking-pagne. Because this is exactly one of the reasons why Jimin worked his ass off this hard, he reminds himself. He’s definitely smiling a mile wide as he treks to his seat, feeling nearly euphoric. His eyes search and when he finally reaches the seat that matches his ticket, his body stiffens abruptly. He looks over his shoulder to no one in particular and back to the seat, smile dimming with every second passing.
There’s a man, with black sunglasses big enough to cover the majority of his pale face, slumped very comfortably in what Jimin believes to be his seat. The man’s face is turned towards the oval plane window, probably not even realizing Jimin is awkwardly standing a few feet away.
“Ex-excuse me?” Jimin says in English first. The man doesn’t even flinch. Jimin leans a little closer and sees what look to be earphone wires leading underneath the man’s beanie. So, Jimin reaches forward and lightly prods the man’s shoulder. The man finally snaps his head towards Jimin, who smiles in return, but the man’s lips remain flat and unimpressed. The man then eyes the ticket Jimin was holding in the hand he had poked the man with and the man, inexplicably, rips it from Jimin.
“What—“ falls out of Jimin's mouth as he watches the man whip out a marker from his sweater pocket and, oh my god, deface the back of Jimin’s ticket. The very ticket Jimin was planning to, like, frame or something when he got back home. What the actual fuck.
The man finishes his writing with a flick of his wrist and hands the ticket back to a gapping Jimin. The man nods once with a strained smile and turns back to the window without having the courtesy to even remove his earphones. Jimin looks down to the ticket and is able to read something like “August” through the black scribbles. What does that even mean?
So, Jimin isn’t so happy anymore. (But, can you blame him?)
“Hey,” Jimin says sharply and then decides to pull one of the earphone wires completely out when the guy ignores him, “Hey, do you—“
“Listen, I’m sorry but no, I don’t do photos, so…” and then the man has the fucking nerve to move his hand in a shooing motion. Just when the man is about to put the earphone back in, Jimin catches his wrist.
“If you would just—“
“Let go,” the man hisses so lowly and threateningly that it would probably frighten guys bigger than Jimin, “or I’ll have someone escort you off the fucking plane for assault,”
This son of a bitch.
“Assault?” Jimin scoffs but still lets go of the guy’s wrist, “you sure talk big for someone who can’t even fucking read,”
The sunglasses then get whipped off and Jimin is graced with the full heat of the man’s glare, “what the fuck are you talking about?”
“2B,” Jimin shoves his ticket pointedly in the man’s face and then taps to the overhead compartment with the seat designation, “and 2B, I’ve been trying to tell you you’re in my fucking seat before you started talking and writing-- ” Jimin pointedly waves his ticket around, “--shit.”
The man scowls deeply as he pulls out his cellphone and taps on it a few times. He stares at the screen for a while before glancing between Jimin with a smaller glare and up to the overhead compartment.
With a stiff jaw, the man stands slowly and grabs for a backpack underneath the seat in front. Jimin takes a quick and stiff step back accordingly to let the man through. The stare connecting them is filled with tension and bits of anger, but Jimin can’t help but notice soft looking cheeks and bleached hair peeking from underneath the black beanie. The man then plops down to the seat behind Jimin, nearly stabbing his earphones into his ears and shoving his sunglasses back on.
“Jerk didn’t even apologize,” Jimin murmured as he (finally) took his seat, which was warm from the man’s body heat.
Jimin glances over his shoulder for a brief moment and silently prays that the next fourteen hours will go by much more quietly.
(Hint: it doesn’t.)
Jimin had planned to at least attempt sleep for a few hours, in order to decrease the inevitable jet lag, but the man behind him had decided to make that endeavour impossible.
Just when Jimin is about to fall into a deeper sleep, these muffled noises woke him straight up. Jimin groggily looks for the origin of the sounds and sees the man behind him now equipped with a set of over-the-head headphones and a laptop (that must be on full brightness if the bright glow blinding Jimin was anything to go by). Clicks of a mouse go off occasionally in-between the noises and god, how is that guy able to hear at all with that kind of volume?
Jimin sighs and debates whether he should say something or just deal with it. But, Jimin then remembers that he is a driven person and that he should at least try to convince this guy to behave like a decent person. So, Jimin stands and takes two steps in order to be right next to the beanie guy. A wave of Jimin’s hand in front of the laptop screen is enough to divert the guy’s attention.
“Could you turn that down?” Jimin says when the guy slides one of the headphones off his ear, “I can’t sleep with it so loud.”
The guy only gives Jimin a blank stare while uttering, “kay” and putting the headphone back in place.
As soon as Jimin is back in his seat, the noises start back up again and Jimin should have known you can’t knock sense into the unwilling.
A few more hours go by, and Jimin decides to go over his PowerPoint presentation on his tablet a few more billion times. He mumbles his speech over the slides smoothly, but slightly stutters when the guy behind him walks by and presumably heads to the lavatory. Jimin takes a few seconds to glare daggers into the guy’s back and then continues on practising. He pauses again when the guy comes back, pointedly not removing his gaze from the current presentation slide, and just before Jimin opens his mouth again, he hears behind him,
“You spelt that word wrong,”
Jimin nearly gets kink in his neck from whipping around to the voice. Leaning in very closely from behind Jimin’s shoulder was, as can be guessed, the annoying guy and he was pointing at Jimin’s tablet screen.
“Also, this phrase here,” the guy leans in even more, close enough for Jimin to smell his cologne or deodorant or whatever, and then he taps (who gave him the fucking right) on the screen, “is a little awkward. I would switch it around,” A smug and shit-eating smirk is sent Jimin’s way and then the bastard is back in his seat.
(Sure, the phrase did sound a little better switched around but Jimin would never admit that to anyone.)
Jimin has been waiting. Waiting ten long hours for the guy behind him to fall asleep so he himself could get some shut-eye, but that fucking devil.is.still.awake. The clicks and beats coming from the guy’s laptop and headphones knock against Jimin’s ears irritatingly and he thinks he might feel a headache coming.
Click.
Click click.
Cllllllllick click.
“Hmm,”
Click. Clclclick.
“My fucking god,” Jimin whispers under his breath while massaging his temples. One quick thought leads his finger to press the flight attendant button.
A pretty flight attendant with a practiced smile arrives quickly, “yes, Mr. Park, how can I be of assistance?”
“Do you have any painkillers? I’m getting a bit of a headache,” he pointedly glances behind him in the most subtle of ways, just so the flight attendant understands exactly why he has a headache.
“Yes, of course Mr.Park,” the flight attendant’s smile is still in place as she nods, and then she leans in close to whisper “Shall I bring you some complimentary earplugs as well, sir?”
Jimin’s eyes widens like he’s witnessing a miracle firsthand, or rather, an angel in the form of a flight attendant. He nods eagerly and profusely thanks the flight attendant, Tara, for her incredible service upon her return with two ibuprofens, a glass of water, and foam earplugs.
With two pills down the hatch and his surroundings finally muted, Jimin drifts off to sleep.
The plane landing startles Jimin awake and it takes a few seconds to remember where he is and why he’s there. Then a smile spreads because Jimin is here and the investors won’t know what hit em.
But then a sharp pain spreads on his foot and god fucking damn, that asshole from behind him just stepped on his foot while passing by and—is that a scuff on his new leather—does this boy want to die?
Jimin is feeling a little furious as he storms after the guy, wondering if the hotel he’ll be staying at charge extra for a shoe shining service. Jimin continues to pierce a hole through the back of the guy’s beanie throughout the customs line and other airport hallways until he can’t anymore because holy cow, why are there so many flashes?
A few more seconds and then screams hit Jimin in full force once they enter the luggage pick-up area. There are a few groups of (primarily) girls screaming something like “sugar” and “august” while holding big colourful signs. Another minute passes and Jimin realizes the groups are actually shouting “Suga” and “AgustD”.
The screams get louder when the devil-incarnate waves the crowd’s way with a brilliant smile. The guy walks to the rope barriers holding the hollering people back and Jimin sees a familiar marker make an appearance. The guy’s hand flicks to and fro, signing papers, CDs and, oh.
Ohhh.
This guy is actually, probably, sort of… famous then, which kind of explains his behaviour to Jimin in the plane. Well, it explains it but it certainly doesn’t excuse it.
So, Jimin, with his nose held high, walks past the guy or “AgustD” without taking a second look back.
The hotel Jimin is put into by the company is swanky as hell. It glitters and glows success, just like the guests staying within its walls and Jimin relishes in the fact that he’s one of them.
He checks-in with a hotel clerk while finalizing his first meeting for the next day on his cell, exercising his hard earned English skills with someone’s secretary.
His golden keycard is handed to him in a fancy envelope with his room number, wifi password and personal butler’s name. A personal fucking butler. A personal butler that will hopefully shine newly scuffed leather shoes too.
Jimin’s still on his phone when he moves his suitcase and himself into an elevator. He taps his keycard for guest validation and right before the doors close, someone enters the elevator.
“Sixteenth floor,”
Jimin nods without looking over and presses the floor number along with his own, the fifteenth. He finishes the call with polite thank yous and goodbyes before tucking his phone away. A content sigh escapes him and with a straightened back, Jimin gazes ahead.
Lo and behold.
In the reflection of the gold plated elevator door is the fucking August guy.
It looks like the guy had been staring at Jimin via the elevator door in wait, because he smirks right on cue with Jimin’s shock.
“Hey stranger,” his gravelled voice echoes in the elevator, “fancy meeting you here,”
“Yes, hello,” Jimin replies quickly and turns his glare to the electric numbers that are now increasing far too slowly.
“Sorry about the commotion at the airport,” the voice drawls again, “this trip was supposed to be a secret.”
“It’s fine,” Jimin clips, glaring harder at the numbers. Jimin will not be baited like some common folk. Jimin is more civil than whatever brand of man this August guy is.
The ding the elevator makes when it reaches the fifteenth floor is like music to Jimin’s ears. A quiet “see you” follows him out and Jimin really hopes he doesn’t.
Jimin is in a really good mood. Like super good mood because Jimin, newbie extraordinaire, totally just aced his first investor meeting. Sure, his contact within the investors told him it was a shoe-in deal, but Jimin's confidence still hits an ultimate high. His boss back home is proud and boisterous over the phone, saying how he knew Jimin could handle it and that the next meeting would be even easier.
The thing is, his boss is totally blowing hot air out his ass with those encouragements. Jimin only has three groups to present to, the first being the easiest of the bunch. The next group has a little bit of risk, with one or two on the board of investors showing some opposition to investing the project Jimin is presenting. Jimin would have to mess-up relatively bad to miss out on that contract, but Jimin will be as convincing as he can be to get their approval.
The third group is more than a little risky. It’s not a big group like what Jimin’s company is used to dealing with, a rather small one by most standards actually. V Investors are actually homed back in South Korea, but the CEO of the group was on vacation within the same city and, with a few strings pulled, an arrangement was made. The CEO was known to be a bit of an eccentric, but a smart one at that. He usually put loads of money into small start-ups but those small start-ups always hit the jackpot, all while the same CEO-investor easily getting his investment and more back in the process.
Jimin’s company is no small start-up, but the project Jimin is backing is good, so he thinks the CEO of V Investors will make an exception. No, he will make an exception because Jimin will absolutely not go back home with a failure on his shoulders.
He nods resolutely to himself and waves to the hotel bartender for another whiskey on the rocks. He fiddles on his phone as he waits, playing whatever dumb game that’s popular at the moment because even Jimin needs to destress somehow.
“Make that two, and charge his drinks to my room,” comes from Jimin’s immediate right and it causes him to totally bomb the current level he was so close to beating. Jimin sighs and does a quick side glance to the August guy, not gracing him with his full attention.
It’s quiet for a few blissful moments until the two drinks are placed in front of them.
“So, what’s this?” Jimin decides to ask in his blandest tone, not yet reaching for the drink.
“You should know,” the guy replies airily, “you ordered it after all,”
A flicker of irritation clicks in Jimin’s head because if this guy thinks he can play these kind of games with Jimin, he’s in for one.
Jimin in reply turns slightly towards August, bringing his elbow up on the bar so he can prop his cheek against his fist. Jimin’s stare is blank and steady on him, and he has to give the guy some credit for holding it for as long as he does before he cracks.
“Eh, you’re not as easy to tease as I thought,” August then takes a swing of his own whiskey, “consider this an apology for the plane.”
“Hmm,” Jimin hums, turning his gaze to the glass, “apology not accepted.”
The scoff that escapes the guy is expected, “what? Why not?”
Jimin wonders how privileged this guy has been, if the guy has only relied on winning people over with money. Don’t get Jimin wrong, he’s all for a little bribery here and there, but common courtesy can’t be frowned upon either.
“For someone who seems to be so good with words, you sure don’t like to use them a lot,” Jimin mutters, reaching for his glass and swirling it a few times, still not taking a sip.
Jimin glances to the guy and a small smirk finds its way onto his lips when he takes in the guy’s dumbfounded expression. August’s, or whoever’s, feline-like eyes search Jimin’s before Jimin can see the metaphorical lightbulb blinking on within them.
“Oh,” the guy says and straightens up, nodding his head a little, “okay, let’s try this again. Hi, I’m Min Yoongi and I’m sorry for my behaviour on the plane yesterday,”
It’s kind of weird and cute at the same time. The August guy, or Yoongi, is very serious and stern with his apology and Jimin can’t help but crack a small yet genuine smile.
“Park Jimin,” Jimin then brings his glass towards Yoongi’s, “and apology accepted,”
Yoongi’s smile is toothy and wide when he raises his own glass to meet Jimin’s.
Min Yoongi is famous just like Jimin thought he was. He goes by either Suga when he’s performing in group acts or AgustD when doing solo activities. He’s also one of the biggest rappers and music producers that has ever come out of South Korea, if his wikipedia page was to be relied upon. It also explains why Jimin has never heard of him, because Jimin was never much for the music scene.
"Really? You’re sure you’ve never heard of me, not even a sliver of recognition?”
Jimin reassures the pouting and slightly drunk Yoongi that he doesn’t really get out much, nor does he really have much free time for any personal enjoyment besides his mobile games (which sparks an entirely new debate on which games are the best; luckily they seemed to have similar tastes.)
Yoongi explains that he’s traveling in order to work on a few pieces for his latest mixtape with some local producers. He’s due for a small show later that week as well and comes short of whining for Jimin to come by and check the scene out.
Jimin declines.
Yoongi frowns.
Jimin mentions craving kimchi and that starts conversation right back up about the best places to eat in Seoul.
Jimin finishes his presentation and it’s flawless as can be. So, why the fucking hell has none of the investors so much as glanced at the print-outs he’s given them? Come on, they could have at least opened the booklets past the damn cover page.
“Are there any questions?” Jimin asks, back stiff and straight, teeth probably about to crack from how hard he’s clenching his jaw.
There are a few moments of silence and, what the fuck is actually going on?
“No, thank you Mr. Park,” one investor pipes up, “that will be all.”
And so, recognizing a dismissal when presented it, Jimin calmly collects his tools and walks out of the board room with a polite departing smile, thanking them for their time. Not that the fuckers even paid him any mind as he left.
He waits until he’s outside the building and in a cab back to the hotel to call his boss.
“How did it go?”
“I don’t know what the fuck happened, but they didn’t even show any inter—“
“That doesn’t sound like you got them to sign on, Park.”
Jimin pauses a little, swallowing his nerves before answering, “I didn’t do anything wrong, sir. They didn’t listen at all or—“
“Well, you should have fucking made them listen, do you understand how bad we needed their contract?”
“Sir, I-I,” Oh, god Jimin, get yourself together, “I think something’s up. They showed so much interest before, but just now it was like I was wasting their time with girl guide cookies or something,”
“I don’t fucking care what you think is up, Park. You have better land the next one or we’ll have to decide you’re a waste of time for the company.”
The call ends there and Jimin punches the seat next to his thigh several times over in his frustration.
Yoongi finds Jimin drowning his sorrows at the bar later that night. Jimin mutters about his failed attempt to Yoongi’s listening ear, who looks to be nursing the same special drink the bartender keeps kindly gracing Jimin with (which is actually fucking water, because Jimin may have drunk too much too fast).
It’s nice because Yoongi curses out the investors right along with Jimin and agrees that something was strange about the whole thing. Yoongi mentioned something about having to deal with sponsors of the same sort, but never has he had an interested party back off in such a way.
Jimin is in the middle of nit-picking his presentation and how he should have made a better attempt of catching their attention, when he gets a strong wave of nausea hitting him. He stumbles to a stand from the bar stool, and Yoongi is immediately standing with him with a hand steadying him around the waist. Jimin pries said hand away and staggers toward the bar’s posh bathroom.
Jimin really shouldn’t be standing, better yet, walking with how dizzy the world is around him. He finally reaches his desired destination and sends his offering to the porcelain gods in the form of his stomach contents.
There’s a cool hand rubbing at his back, lightly patting as Jimin continues his worship procedure. A soothing voice is right there and Jimin thinks that the porcelain gods are actually blessing Jimin with their presence until he realizes it’s just Yoongi.
Once the toilet is flushed, Yoongi helps Jimin off of the tiled floor and walks with him to the sinks. Jimin splashes his face a few times, feeling not exactly like a thousand bucks, maybe like a quarter of that.
Okay, maybe a sixth.
Yoongi, the magician, offers a glass of water for Jimin to gargle with. It removes some of the acidic flavouring in his mouth, and for that, Jimin thanks Yoongi with small pats to a soft cheek. (Yoongi looks at Jimin like he’s grown a third head, which funny, because if Jimin stares long enough it looks like Yoongi is the one with three heads.)
They’re then somehow in the elevator and Yoongi’s hands are on either side of Jimin’s cheek and whoa. Hey there. You, you pretty thing you.
“Uh, thanks, but I’m asking you for your room number,”
Jimin then giggles, rubbing his cheeks against Yoongi’s hands, “your hands are rough,”
Yoongi rolls his eyes while sighing and Jimin feels really uncomfortable because hey, why is Yoongi squeezing his cheeks, “stop being cute and tell me your room number,”
Jimin pouts and pulls his face away from the offending hands. He then plummets his head to Yoongi’s shoulder and mutters against it, “dunwanna”
And then, his phone rings.
And rings.
Rings some more and holy fuck, that needs to shut the fuck up. So, Jimin reaches out blindly and accepts the call.
“Hello?” his voice comes out raspy as he rests the phone against his ear.
“Is this Park Jimin?”
Jimin’s eyes snap open because who is this and how do they know his name? There’s a pause because…because Jimin has no idea where the fuck he is either.
“Yes, this is Park Jimin, who am I speaking with?” Jimin slowly moves up and oh god, he’s in a bed. A bed that is definitely not his.
“It’s Kim Taehyung! From V Investors?”
Jimin is proud at holding back his gasp and scrambles out of the bed he was in, thankfully still clothed in at least his undershirt and boxer briefs.
“Yes! Yes, hello Mr. Kim, how are you doing?”
“Ah, none of that Mr. Kim business, call me Taehyung,” Jimin looks around the room and sees an armchair with his suit pants and white collared shirt neatly folded. He rushes over and attempts to put them on while holding his cellphone between his shoulder and head, “hey, I was thinking we could grab a quick bite to eat in thirty minutes, there’s this great place called Marianne’s and dude, their croissants are to die for.”
Jimin is hella confused and he’s sure it’s not just due to the alcohol intake from the night before, “Uh, isn’t that a café? You want me to present…in a café?”
“Like I said, croissants you’d want at death’s door. Whelp, meet me at the Marigold location in a bit, see you!”
The call ends and holy shit, what is up with this Taehyung guy?
Jimin looks down at his half buttoned shirt and sighs out of frustration. He then turns around and lets out small yelp. Yoongi is sitting up from the bed Jimin was just in and staring at him through drowsy eyes.
“Morning,”
Morning?
Morning?
Is that all he has to say?
“Since you look like a scandalized mother-in-law, I’ll remind you that you were the one who refused to give me your room number.”
Jimin gapes at Yoongi for a few seconds when he realizes he has to fucking be somewhere in the shortest time frame ever and scrambles to do up the rest of his shirt.
“Fuckfuckfuckfuck,” he mutters, racing across the room, grabbing his assorted things while memories of the night rush back. He allows himself to slow and then stop completely, turning towards Yoongi, “uh, and I’m—um, thanks…you know, for last night. You really didn’t have to, but you did, and it was…nice of you.”
Yoongi nods on back while he gets out of the bed too. He walks over to the mini fridge and pulls out a water bottle. He hands it over to Jimin, who uncaps it eagerly and drinks it like water was from the foundation of youth or something.
Once half of the bottle is empty in (what was probably) one gulp, pale hands reach for Jimin’s undone tie and fiddles with it.
“Don’t worry about it,” Yoongi murmurs with a raspy just-woken-up tone,“There will always be people who miss out on the genius ideas. After all, I wasn’t born famous,” and a wolffish grin stretches on Yoongi’s lips as he begins to tighten the tie, “so, show these investors what genius really looks like.”
Jimin can’t help but return the smile with something aspirated, “ego much?”
“No, just honest,” and Yoongi shrugs comically, taking a step back, “and grab some mouth wash from the bathroom, your breath smells like death.”
“Oh, shit,” Jimin says, hand rising up to cover his mouth, “thanks,” and in a blink of an eye, he’s racing out the room with a travel sized mouthwash in hand.
Luckily, the cab Jimin grabbed outside the hotel knew exactly the café Taehyung had mentioned on the phone and headed there relatively quickly. Jimin thought the cab driver was just being polite when saying the café was a hotspot for brunch in the city. Hot spot apparently meant a lineup that looked a good hour long, with all the small tables occupied by very relaxed customers.
Well, fuck, Jimin thinks while staring at what looks to be a hole-in-the-wall café, with nothing to draw the eyes in besides the large and patient crowd. Jimin cursed himself some more as he gets to the back of the line, wishing he came earlier so he could have had a better chance at a table and grabbing those waffles or whatever Taehyung liked before the scheduled meet-up time. It also didn’t look very good when there was about five minutes until they were supposed to meet and Jimin doesn’t see anyone besides hippy families and trendy students around him.
Jimin inches closer and closer to the register to order (okay, still not that close) when his phone goes off.
“Park Jimin,” he answers immediately, pressing the phone closer to his ear in order to hear better over the loud murmuring around him.
“Jimin! I thought I saw you, look over here,”
“Uh,” Jimin lets out accidentally, looking around himself for…something. Then he sees this beaming guy waving from a table near the café’s swinging kitchen door (how the guy managed to get a table, he’s definitely not sure), “Oh, I think I see you, what would you like? I’ll cover it,”
“Pft, by the time you’d order I’d eat my hand in hunger, come on over!” And the call ends. Rude.
Jimin is reluctant to leave the line he wasted five minutes in, but leaves it he does. Standing that long with that much people around him while hungover was not a great combo anyways.
“Jimin, Jimin, Jiminie,” Taehyung stands right when Jimin reaches the table and eagerly takes his hand before he can even offer it, “Kim Taehyung, but I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure that,”
So, like, Jimin is still slightly too drunk to handle all the extra-ness springing out of this guy, but Jimin knows he sure as hell has to deal.
“Hey man, thanks for inviting me out here, better scene than your boring board room,” and Jimin roughly returns the handshake with both of his hands to match.
“Right? You’ll be kissing the ground at my feet once you taste these croissants, come on let’s sit,” and Taehyung then drops his hands and plops right back down.
Jimin sits down opposite him at the small wooden table, marked up with a few scratches. There’s already a mug of black coffee waiting for Jimin and although he does like a little milk in his, he gulps it down as is.
“Whoa, easy on the coffee,” Taehyung then leans in and whispers, “refills are free,”
Woohoo, Jimin will need all the coffee he can get.
“So, Taehyung,” Jimin says, putting down his mug, “shall we talk business?” He’s about to take out his phone which has his PowerPoint presentation on it when Taehyung snickers.
“Business?” Taehyung says and then blows a raspberry, yes a raspberry, “Nah, let’s talk about something else, I already read the proposal anyways. Which by the way, not sure who wrote that, but more pictures or something would have been great, I was going cross-eyed from all that text.”
Okay, tell that to Jimin’s boss who told him to redo the damn thing two times because “we’re not working in a fucking playpen, Park,”
“Well,” Jimin pauses, feeling more and more uncomfortable because this was unknown territory; business school does not prep you for guys like Taehyung, “what did you want to talk about?”
“Hmm, how about you? How are you liking this side of the world, I heard you’ve never been?” Taehyung takes a sip of his coffee and Jimin, honestly, thinks this guy is probably nice in every other circumstance, but Jimin is not here to play around, especially not with his job so close to the cliff’s edge. But, Jimin needs Taehyung more than Taehyung needs him, so he’ll have to play his little game.
“Yeah, might have been the longest flight I’ve been on, but business class made it doable. The city’s great too, with friendly people. I thought the cab driver was joking about how busy this place was,”
There, genuine enough, your turn Taehyung.
“You should have seen this place three years ago actually,” Taehyung says and then a young woman appears behind him without a word. She drops two plates of fancy croissants in front of Taehyung and Jimin, before turning a blinding smile towards Taehyung. She ruffles his hair a little, at which he squawks, and heads back into the kitchen.
“Damn Marie,” Taehyung chuckles, attempting to put his hair back in place, “Just because I’m one year younger…” Taehyung smiles down at his plate and looks like he’s about to dig in when he catches Jimin’s confused gaze, “Oh! What were we…right! So, three years ago,” and he takes a bite of his croissant, “this place was going through some problems,”
“What happened?” Jimin asked, like the good little boy he was, since he figured Taehyung was an eager story teller.
“Had a bit of debt issues, was about to close down when Marie came by the office,”
“Oh? And you decided to help her out?” Jimin looks around, trying to figure the missing pieces of the story.
“Sure did,” Taehyung nodded along, now more entranced by his croissants then the conversation, which is very not good for Jimin.
“So,” Jimin says, shifting in his cheap wooden chair, “what did she say to convince you to bail her out?”
“She didn’t say anything,” Taehyung replies quickly and nonchalantly.
…uhh.
“What?”
“She didn’t say anything, she’s mute,” Taehyung reaches forward and grabs some napkins out of a dispenser, “She came into my office with a written note, some of her croissants and wouldn’t leave until I tried them.”
Jimin stares down at his own plate of croissants, which he realized he hadn’t touched yet.
“See, Jimin,” Taehyung puts down his utensils next to his now empty plate (wow, chew much), “I don’t talk business, I talk potential. I talk with ideas and people. I find it kind of sad how business focuses so much on the money aspect of it, when any idiot can tell that pumping something with money isn’t enough to get it working. You need the right ideas and people to run it, so tell me, numbers aside, why should I invest in you?”
Well, damn.
Taehyung is right. Business, at least on Jimin’s side of things, focuses almost entirely on money. His presentation discusses the costs, the profits, the market impact and more. His presentation and everything he knows about the project was tailored to suit those money-driven investors, looking for anything that would have a good enough return. He’s not prepared for the type of investor Taehyung is and, honestly, Jimin has only himself to blame.
“Um,” Jimin starts after a few lingering moments of silence between them, “I hope I would lead the project if we end up with the right backing,”
He sure hopes so at least, because that’s what usually happens with his superiors. He hasn’t been guaranteed it yet though, considering he needs Taehyung before he can even bother asking.
“All right, good, what about your team? Tell me about them,” Taehyung leans back and crosses his arms which wow, there’s a slice of business man Jimin is used to dealing with.
“I…I don’t have one yet, I need approval for the project before I can choose the candidates,” Jimin sees rather than hears the large sigh escape Taehyung, so he feels like he just said something pretty wrong.
“Okay, okay,” Taehyung murmurs, scratching the back of his head, “let’s try a different route, what do you like to do for fun?”
“For fun?” Jimin’s eyebrows rise because, one, weird question and two, how the fuck is this related?
“You know, your hobbies or extracurriculars like…curling or something,” Taehyung smiles a little, nodding his head like he’s encouraging Jimin to speak but…but that’s the problem.
Jimin wasn’t lying when he said he doesn’t have fun. Jimin always figured he’d hit it big eventually and that’s when he’d have his “fun”. But he has to say something.
“I…like trying out new places to eat,” which is actually due mostly to mandatory business meetings with his superiors but Taehyung doesn’t need to know that.
“Oh yeah, what else?” Taehyung leans in a little closer, looking brighter.
Jimin, on the other hand, only feels dim next to him, because there’s really nothing else. So, fuck it, he’s just going to be honest, “there’s nothing else,” he says lowly, “Taehyung, I’ve…I’ve been dedicated to my work since I was a child, I’ve worked day and night to get where I am and I’m proud of it. And I’ll work day and night to get this project the success it deserves.”
Taehyung’s expression doesn’t change. Nothing moves between them until Taehyung looks down to Jimin’s uneaten croissants.
“Eat up, I’m not lying when I said they’re really great,” Taehyung then pushes his chair back and stands, “Bye Jimin, it was nice meeting you.”
So there Jimin is, alone in a busy café with a plate of croissants. He stares down at the plate and stabs his forks into one of them. He stuffs a large chunk into his mouth and laughs a little, spewing a few crumbs.
“He’s right,” he whispers through his croissant-filled mouth, looking up to the ceiling, “the fucker’s right.”
“Park,”
“Yes sir,”
“Just get your ass back here.”
“Yes sir,”
“I hope this doesn’t become a habit, you’ll throw my back if I have to carry you again” Yoongi says when he takes the seat down next to Jimin at the hotel bar. Jimin doesn’t move his head from the counter for a few moments and then finally rolls onto his cheek to look to Yoongi.
“I’m strictly water on the rocks today, you dick,” Jimin mutters which causes Yoongi to snicker. Jimin just stares at Yoongi’s gummy smile for a while until it lowers in discomfort.
“What is it?” Yoongi asks, sounding a little concerned, “what happened?”
“I—“ Jimin started, face scrunching up, “Am I fun?”
“Uh,” Yoongi says, “what?”
“And I don’t have anything like croissants to offer,” Jimin whines, rolling his head back and forth.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
Jimin finally pulls his head back up and stares at the wall of liquor bottles ahead of him, “I’m pretty much fired.”
“What—how?” Yoongi’s hand then reaches forward to grip Jimin’s shoulder and spins Jimin towards him, “make sense, would you?”
“Well, I’m getting fired, I’ll probably have to go through some paperwork first back home before its official,” Jimin whispers, lips quirking up like he’s telling a funny joke or something, but his eyes burn a little more than usual,
“Jimin,” Yoongi leans in closer, “you’re telling me you didn’t land that investor guy,”
“Nope,” he says, “because I’m lame,”
“Ji—you’re not lame,”
“How would you know?” Jimin finally meets Yoongi’s eyes in a heated stare, “You barely even know me. I’m a workaholic with nothing on his wrap sheet to boast about. My life consists of what my bosses wanted from me, and that’s obviously not enough, is it?
Yoongi doesn’t say anything for a moment, though his jaw is definitely clenched.
“Fuck you,” is what ends up coming out of Yoongi’s mouth.
“W-wha—“ Jimin stutters out, “Well, fuck you too, you inconsiderate son of a bit—“
“Oh my fuck,” Yoongi looks up like he’s asking the heavens for help, before he glares Jimin down, “look around you for a second, will you? Where are you? How did you get here?” Jimin doesn’t look away from Yoongi, and it’s not because he looks good angry. No sir-ry. “You know what’s actually lame?” The hand that was still on Jimin’s shoulder tightens, “people who feel sorry for themselves and don’t do shit about it.”
Yoongi then stands up from his bar stool and leaves Jimin behind without a glance over his shoulder. Jimin watches Yoongi’s back with his sight getting blurrier and blurrier until he wipes at it with his jacket sleeve.
Jimin turns his attention to his so-called water on the rocks on the bar counter, which looks to be on the wrong side of climate change with the time that past.
Then Jimin is the one standing up, because both Taehyung and Yoongi are really fucking right.
So, Jimin finds himself in a elevator, pushing the button for Yoongi’s floor and he jogs his leg impatiently as the number get closer and closer to the desired floor. The ding finally goes off and Jimin takes one step forward only to collide into someone.
“Sorry, I wasn’t—Yoongi?” Jimin says, surprising himself with how breathless he sounded. Yoongi looks a little wide-eyed at Jimin too before he gulps and nods lightly.
“Sorry,” Yoongi murmurs back, “…were you heading to your room?”
The elevator door tries to close but Jimin puts a hand up to stop it, “No, I was heading to yours.”
“O-oh?” Yoongi stutters his surprise, a flushed pink colour washing over his pale cheeks, “why’s that?”
“To apologize…and say you were right.” Jimin’s kind of proud of himself for how easily he admitted to his mistake. It’s never been that easy for him in the past.
“I’m always right,” Yoongi mumbles, looking to the side and scratching underneath one of his ears. His face then scrunches up in a cute way and he says with snark, “Okay, I accept your apology,”
Jimin can’t help the big smile that erupts on his face because, yeah. He’s glad that even if he messed up stuff with his job, he didn’t manage to do it with Yoongi.
“Also,” Jimin cuts into the air, smile wiggling like he’s holding a secret joke behind them.
“Also?” Yoongi prompts, raising an eyebrow.
Jimin then steps out of the elevator and a little closer to Yoongi. Jimin sees and smirks when Yoongi takes a small intake a breath at their proximity.
“I need your help,” Jimin’s then teasing smirk weakens.
“Yeah?” Yoongi murmurs again, eyes on Jimin’s lips, “with what?”
“I wanna have fun.”
“Fun…” Yoongi repeats, nodding a little, “wait, what kind of fun?”
“Not sure,” Jimin shrugs, “I’m apparently no pro at fun things, so help me out, will you?”
The tension in the air decreases bit by bit and Jimin watches as Yoongi continues to stare Jimin down until something flickers in his eyes. Yoongi takes a step back and looks Jimin head to toe to head again.
“Are those the only kind of clothes you have?” Is not what Jimin expected to hear.
“Uh, yes?” Jimin looks down at his slacks, and white button up underneath his jacket, “something wrong with them? Fuck, is there a stain?”
Yoongi clicks his tongue and shakes his head a little with, “that won’t do,” whispered under his breath.
Then Jimin is dragged down the hall by a rough yet warm hand and only a mischievous smirk to answer his questions.
“One beer, please,” Jimin says to the guy standing behind a makeshift and rather tiny bar. Said guy nods back and hands Jimin a solo cup with a rather average tasting beer within it. Jimin turns around and takes in his surroundings once more. It’s crowded, hot, loud, and flashing lights nearly blind him. So, needless to say, Jimin’s pretty sure this fun thing isn’t doing much for him.
After Yoongi threw a bunch of clothes at Jimin and nearly locked him in his hotel bathroom, they headed out into the night. Yoongi looked as he usually did, with his effortless street chic appearance doing him all the right favours. Jimin, on the other, looked and felt so out of place in tight ripped jeans and a plain black t-shirt.
“Stop fidgeting, you look hot,” Yoongi told him as he opened a taxi cab door for him. Jimin tried really hard to not seem pleased by the compliment. He thinks he succeeded.
A few minutes pass and it ends up with Yoongi leading him into an underground concert venue of sorts. A venue which Yoongi has left him to fend for himself for some undetermined amount of time. All Jimin got was a “have fun,” whispered into his ear and a pinch to his butt.
Damn tease.
“Hey!”
“Hey, if it isn’t Park Jimin!”
Jimin side-eyes widely when he recognizes the voice calling him.
“Taehyung?” He manages to get out before he, in the best words, gets tackled softly?
“My maannn,” Taehyung yells into his ear, “what are you doing herrre? I thought you were heading back to Korea by now,”
“Uh, I leave tomorrow actually,”
Is Taehyung drunk? Oh god, Jimin can barely handle sober Taehyung.
“Cool cool, that’s cool,” Taehyung pulls back and nods along, “but dude, are you a fan? You should have told me at the café!”
“A fan?”
“I knew it~” Taehyung yelled out and hugged Jimin again, “Wasn’t the last Cypher they put out, like, sick? That hook though.”
Okay. What. What is the gibberish coming out of Taehyung’s mouth?
“Like, Rap Monster be slick with his rhythms and like, Hope’s tone has no boundaries. It speaks to me, don’t you think?”
“Uh, yeah,” Jimin says and tries to slide away as discreetly as possible.
“AgustD too, dude, the fire he spits be real hot, like he broils the shit out of the lyrics.”
AgustD? Jimin pauses for half a second when he remembers that Yoongi’s stage name is AgustD and, oh, Jimin is going to actually watch Yoongi perform when he explicitly said no, like, three days prior.
“You like AgustD?” Jimin finds himself asking without actually realizing he was.
“Of course!” Taehyung threw his hands up, “I don’t pay out of my ass for private venue tickets for just anyone, Jimin!”
“Oh, that’s good,” Jimin nods and finally takes another sip of his forgotten beer.
“Yeah?” Taehyung turns his head to the side, “good how?”
Jimin chokes a little on his beer, not expecting the inquiry, “uh, cause I know him, it’s nice to know he has dedicated fans like you?”
Taehyung gapes at Jimin, eyes bulging and then hands are on either side of Jimin’s shoulders and ouch.
“You know him?? Like, you’re actually friends with that hermit???” Taehyung hollers, mostly due to the loud background music, at least Jimin thinks so. So, Jimin just nods along, afraid to induce more excitement.
An especially loud series of beats draws a crowd to a small stage and Jimin get swept into the wave with Taehyung attached to him. This tall lanky guy then starts rapping, making it sound like it’s as easy as breathing. Jimin can barely understand what’s being said but he realizes it doesn’t actually matter to him because the energy starting to thrum in the room is enough to make him giddy. One more guy enters the stage and his goofy smile causes a series of screams. People around Jimin jump around on beat and yell the lyrics on cue.
Then one more person makes it to the stage, and even with the ball cap pulled down to block the view to the face, Jimin can tell it’s Yoongi. His growled tone is gravel in its most grating form and, Jimin ain’t gonna lie, it’s hot as sin.
The show goes on with high energy and Jimin’s eyes can’t seem to leave Yoongi even if he wanted to. Yoongi is obviously in his element and he looks so good and happy in it. Jimin can’t help a feeling swell in his belly as he jumps around and yells with Taehyung next to him, getting most of his cues from him.
“Taehyung!” Jimin yells to him, “I’m having fun!”
“What?!” Taehyung yells right back into his ear.
“I said I’m having fun!” And then the music stops. Jimin looks around in shock, blinking around for some sort of answer.
“Intermission,” Taehyung quips, “all that jumping sobers up people too much, you know?”
Jimin nods along, wiping the sweat off his forehead. It’s a little quieter, or as quiet as a venue like this can get and Jimin isn’t usually a victim of verbal diarrhea but apparently, today is a day of a lot of firsts.
“Jihyun,” Jimin blurts out to Taehyung, “she first pitched the idea to her boss, Mr. Mok, who progressed it up the ladder. I would have wanted her on the team,” Taehyung scrunches his eyebrows together, probably catching only 40% of what Jimin had said, “Hyunwoo, he’s this guy in accounting, skipped a bunch of grades in high school and went through some bullying due to the age difference. I would have wanted him not only because he’s smart, but because I wanted to make sure his worth finally gets recognized. There’s Joowon too, he’s been with the company since start up but promotions always got handed to the newbies on coattails in his department, when most of the work they hand in are partly his anyways.”
Taehyung crosses his arms, and regards Jimin silently. And it’s making Jimin feel a little ridiculous. They’re in some jeans and t-shirts, sweating like it’s going out of style, and Jimin is still talking about his job. The job he’ll no longer have when he hits South Korean soil.
But then, Taehyung laughs. He laughs and it’s boisterously loud over the background music. He bends down a little and slaps his thigh a few times before wagging a finger at Jimin in his laughter. Jimin is obviously missing something.
“Okay!” Taehyung yells, throwing his arms up, “For Jihyun, Hyunwoo and Jowoon then.” And then Taehyung sticks his hand out, “let’s do the official deal sealer, stick ‘er out Park Jimin.”
“Huh?” Jimin finds himself saying, but his hand nonetheless stretches forward. Taehyung clasps it and shakes it once, twice and lets it go.
“We’ll be in touch~” and like magic, the stage lights change and the music pumps life into the room again.
Holy shit, Jimin thinks, holy shit, Taehyung just agreed to invest the project.
And Jimin is still riding that high until the end of the show. He watches as Yoongi leaves the stage and with his nerves still alive with a type of electricity, he wiggles his way through the crowd and heads towards the backstage area.
He catches sight of Yoongi not too far away but a security personnel stops him from getting any closer.
“Yoongi!”” Jimin yells at the top of his lungs, “Min Yoongi!!” He tries again, struggling against the guard’s hold.
Yoongi finally looks over with a startled expression until recognition clicks in. He smiles something small and nods his head to the guard as he heads over.
“Hey, I was about to head out and grab---“
Yoongi wasn’t able to get much else out because Jimin is rushing over to him as soon as he was released and, whelp, crashing his lips against Yoongi’s in a deep kiss.
What? Jimin’s happy, okay? He’s allowed to be happy.
“He agreed!” Jimin exclaims as soon as his lips lets go of Yoongi’s, “Taehyung agreed to invest the project!”
Yoongi just stares. He stares and stares and stares and oh shit. Jimin just kissed Yoongi on the lips.
“What was that?” Yoongi finally asks.
“Uh, you mean investing the project?” That’s right, Jimin, play dumb.
“No, before that,”
“Um, Taehyung agreeing to invest in the project?”
“Jimin, please,”
Okay, so that tone told Jimin he was on his last chance. So, here goes nothing.
“You mean me kissing you because you looked so attractive up there and I was so happy that I just couldn’t help myself?” Jimin could have said his happiness was the main and only factor to the bruising kiss to avoid possible awkwardness, but Jimin believes Yoongi actually deserves to the full truth of how he actually makes Jimin feel.
“So,” Yoongi pauses, tilting his head to the side with the silence softly killing Jimin. He’s praying the security guard still behind him isn’t waiting for Yoongi’s command to put him in a sleeper hold.
“Would you do it again?” is what Yoongi asks instead.
Hope sparks furiously in Jimin and even if Yoongi’s expression is hella blank, Jimin still replies with, “Fuck yes,” Because Jimin is leaving for Korea tomorrow, so he doesn’t have that much to lose anyways.
“Oh, thank god,” and then Yoongi grabs onto both Jimin’s cheeks and notches his lips against Jimin’s.
It gets so hot so quickly. It slips and slides in the best way, pants echoing loudly in Jimin’s ears. Jimin has one possessive hand around Yoongi’s waist and the other caressing the back of Yoongi’s neck. Yoongi has his hands firmly gripped on either side of Jimin’s jaw, guiding him to just the right angles for the most perfect make-out session Jimin has ever experienced.
“I’ve been wanting to do that since that damn elevator ride,” Yoongi says as soon as they break for air, “your fucking ass in those pants, Jimin,”
Jimin can’t point out one interaction that led him to think that he’d tap Yoongi, but it doesn’t really matter that much because there they were now, and it’s fucking fantastic.
“Then you have some catching up to do,” is the encouragement Jimin gives and Yoongi sure does take it.
They later find out they’re boarding the same flight back to South Korea. So, they end snickering to themselves like school children as they board the plane one after another. During the middle of the flight, Yoongi gets up and tosses Jimin an obnoxious wink before passing by. Jimin waits a minute or two before following after.
(Thank god the plane offers complimentary ear plugs.)