bangtan mod (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bangtanmod) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bangtanexchange2015-02-22 01:32 pm
bangtanmod) wrote in bangtanexchange2015-02-22 01:32 pm
Entry tags:
for cityintheclouds: youth in revolt
Title: youth in revolt
Recipient:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cityintheclouds
Pairing: jungkook/jimin
Rating: pg
Word count: 1,900
Summary: four times jimin takes the blame and one time jungkook steps up.
1)
Jungkook watches the painting get knocked off the wall in terrible, slow motion. By the time the wooden frame hits the ground with a hard THUMP, Taehyung has already fled five miles from the crash site. A hush falls across the waiting room. Seokjin jerks upright from his nap like a half-conscious meerkat. Hoseok’s expression contorts with awe, Namjoon’s with disbelief. Jimin stays rooted where he is, the laugh falling off his face, his arm still outstretched like he had any chance of catching their misaimed basketball (which rolls shamefully back towards Jungkook’s feet).
It’s Yoongi, by all appearances dead asleep in a swivel chair, who disrupts the silence with a choked noise. That choked noise segues into a barely audible, tiny kekeke gremlin laugh.
Jungkook picks up the basketball on autopilot. He looks at Jimin standing at the other end of the conference table. Jimin looks back, wide-eyed.
I know what you’re about to do, Jimin’s face says. Don’t do it.
Your face looks weird right now, Jungkook tries to say back with his own face. He can hear one of their managers coming down the hallway, drawn by the commotion.
Dude, I’m serious--
“You’re it,” Jungkook says, and chucks the basketball back at Jimin’s chest before following Taehyung’s lead. Hoseok’s applause follows him out the door. So does Jimin’s huffy, high-pitched shout: “I’LL SEE YOU AT HOME, SHITHE—oh hey, hyung.” Jungkook ducks his head down, grinning wildly at the floor as he runs.
2)
Apparently impulse control doesn’t fully develop until age 25. So say some scientists. Technically even Seokjin’s brain isn’t done maturing. Seokjin could do something wild tomorrow like get a tattoo sleeve or punch some guy and there’d be a plausible biological explanation.
Jungkook’s just trying to say--it could be anyone.
“Uh, you’re not anyone.” Jimin seems kind of thrilled at the idea of Jungkook’s misdemeanor, and dumbfounded by the reality of it.
“So what,” Jungkook says, hastily flushing the cigarette butt down the toilet.
“So what,” Jimin echoes. “So what, you smoke now?”
“I’m just--nothing, I’m just seeing what it’s like.”
“Where’d you get it?”
From one of the older staff whose defining personality trait is ‘unflappable’. Jungkook doesn’t answer.
“Hey, I asked you--”
“It’s no big deal,” Jungkook says, feeling defensive enough to be a little rude. Uncomfortably, he amends: “It’s no big deal, hyung. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”
‘Don’t tell anyone’ is Jimin’s all-purpose password. So is ‘Do this dumbass thing with me’ or any variation of ‘You’re part of something important now’--say it aloud to Jimin and he’s game. You get access anywhere. Right on cue, Jimin’s face shifts, lightens, and the anxious bubble in Jungkook’s chest pops open as well.
“Fine, I didn’t see anything,” Jimin says as he starts fanning the air. He turns on the faucet, grabs Jungkook’s left hand, and pulls it under the running water. While Jimin helps soap the smell off Jungkook’s skin one hand at a time, Jungkook gives his mouth a perfunctory rinse. Their dorm bathroom’s on the small side for this type of illicit activity but as a joint effort it takes less than five minutes to clean Jungkook up.
“Your hair reeks, though,” Jimin comments. “Your shirt, too. C’mon, I’ll bring you a new one.”
Jungkook strips off his t-shirt, balls it up and buries his nose against the fabric. Yeah, smells guilty. “Pants?”
Jimin licks his lips. “Leave ‘em. But I’ll grab you a beanie for the hair.” He flashes Jungkook a thumbs-up. “Stay here. Don’t, like, get into pot while I’m gone.”
Jungkook rubs his neck. “I know.” He isn’t some stupid kid. He’s just feeling sort of--whatever the opposite of peaceful is, you know? It’s not like Jungkook spends a lot of time thinking about what all the other people his age are doing. It’s not like he’s going to jump track, or lose his way. But every once in a while there’s an impulse to cut a hole in the door and find out whether the air outside smells any different.
He washes his hands a second time, waiting for Jimin to come back. When he turns the faucet off, there are people talking somewhere on the other side of the bathroom door. One of them is Hoseok, the other’s Jimin. He can’t make out what they’re saying but Hoseok sounds pissed.
Jungkook bites down on his thumbnail. It tastes kind of ashy. Man, he screwed up.
The conversation goes on for a few more minutes. Jungkook camps out on the toilet seat lid and hopes nobody tries to come in to take a leak.
When Jimin finally sneaks back in, he looks distracted. Jungkook doesn’t really know what to say.
“Did you get in trouble?” he asks.
“Nah, Hobi-hyung’s a second stringer.” Jimin shoves the promised beanie over Jungkook’s hair a little roughly. “But he said I gotta think about my voice.”
Jungkook understands. He tugs the new shirt on over his head without any fuss.
3)
The van drops them off at the dorm after a grueling dance practice, but instead of heading inside, Jungkook tugs discreetly on the back of Jimin’s hoodie, twice.
They end up at the nearby children’s playground that technically belongs to a big apartment complex, but is open to trespassers after dark. Together they sit on the twin red plastic slides and unload some of the shit that’s been weighing on them, eating convenience store ice cream that Jungkook paid for himself. “You’re a good kid after all,” Jimin says, leaning all the way back until he’s lying down, and Jungkook follows suit. No stars out, but it’s a nice and calm night. The moment Jungkook shuts his eyes he can feel himself beginning to drift off. Jimin’s quiet too, except for when he’s letting out a jaw-cracking yawn. To be honest they’d both be better off in their real beds, but out here there’s a spring breeze that feels good on Jungkook’s skin.
“Namjoon-hyung wants to know where we are,” Jimin speaks up again after a while. Jungkook stirs at the sound of Jimin’s voice.
“Did he text?” he asks muzzily.
“Just now. I took care of it, but we gotta go back.”
Jungkook stretches his arms above his head, unwilling to open his eyes yet.
“C’mon, Jungkook.”
“Yeah, coming,” Jungkook says, preparing himself. But then Jimin’s rising first, standing above Jungkook, and helping pull Jungkook back up onto his feet.
4)
Taehyung doesn’t have a pokerface. He gets a great idea and it shines through his pores. So it’s not like Yoongi can’t tell they’re messing with him, when Taehyung taps him on the shoulder and Yoongi makes eye contact with Taehyung’s glowing expression.
“What?”
From across the table, Jungkook swipes one of Yoongi’s dumplings and pops it into his own mouth in three seconds flat.
“Nothing,” says Taehyung.
Next to Jungkook, Jimin’s shoulders hunch up in delight. Jungkook tries and fails to maintain a straight face as he chews. Sitting on his left is one of his favorite coordi noonas, so he gets her attention.
“Noona,” he says, “I think there’s something in my eye.”
She makes a noise of concern and puts down her chopsticks so she can inspect Jungkook more closely. “Is it an eyelash?”
Meanwhile Taehyung cleans out the grilled meat in her bowl. Jimin’s snickering gets drowned out by the lively chaos of their group dinner. It's been a while since they’ve all sat down to eat a proper meal together at 3am, starving but satisfied. Before this Jungkook didn’t think it was possible to get homesick for the same people you see day after day.
It’s Jimin’s turn next. He cracks his knuckles in preparation, but Jungkook can see Taehyung’s brain working inside his head, pulsing like a firefly. The beginning of another Great Idea.
Again, Taehyung taps Yoongi on the shoulder. Again, Yoongi rumbles, “What?”
Jimin strikes fast, aiming for another dumpling.
“Hey!” Taehyung says. “Park Jimin, what sort of a dongsaeng are you?”
Jimin freezes, chopsticks grasping air. Yoongi’s head snaps over. He pins Jimin with an entertained look that turns Jimin’s entire neck pink.
Jungkook joins in immediately. “How can you behave this way towards your hyung?”
“If you wanted a dumpling, Park Jimin, you could’ve asked,” Yoongi drawls.
Jimin’s voice rises two octaves: “It wasn’t just me! Jungkook took one too!”
“Aren’t you setting a bad example?” Jungkook says, and cracks up when Jimin slings an arm around his neck and drags him close.
“How can you behave this way towards your hyung, you punk--”
“What hyung,” Jungkook goes for the default response, muffled against Jimin’s armpit.
“You’re a pain in the ass,” Jimin complains into Jungkook’s ear. He tightens his grip, surrounding Jungkook in a slightly sweaty, boyish cocoon that manages to be warmer than the rowdy tenderness of the restaurant, stronger than the heat of the smoky grill.
5)
Sometime later that month, Jungkook finds a familiar t-shirt under Jimin’s bed on cleaning day.
“You never gave this back,” he says when Jimin returns to the bedroom with the latest load of laundry in his arms.
“I forgot,” Jimin says quickly.
Jungkook gives the shirt a sniff. It still smells stalely of cigarette smoke. “You didn’t wash it either,” he jokes.
“I did you a big enough favor that time!”
“I know,” Jungkook says, and finally gets around to telling Jimin, a couple weeks too late: “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”
“Yeah, well,” Jimin says, “it’s you.”
He looks embarrassed, as if he’s said something neither Jungkook nor the whole rest of the world already kind of recognize. But now that Jungkook’s actually here, it does feel like it’s on a different magnitude, to hear it from Jimin’s mouth, and see Jimin’s expression when he says it, and understand the response singing through himself.
Of all the crap Jungkook’s done in the name of self-determination, leaning over and kissing Jimin on the cheek is one of the braver things.
Jimin jerks back in surprise to search Jungkook’s face. “What was that for?”
“I dunno.” Jungkook shrugs. “Just because.”
That is a nervous fucking cop-out answer. Luckily Jimin isn’t about to dwell on it. He comes alive, dropping the laundry basket onto the floor so he can grip Jungkook’s neck and haul him down the extra few centimeters.
The first press of Jimin’s mouth is cautious. The second is nice. It’s the third that makes Jungkook think distantly, Oh boy, as Jimin stops being polite and slips Jungkook some tongue. His chest and hips push up solidly against Jungkook’s. Jungkook can’t help the willing little noise he makes. Everyone says he’s an eager student. His hands go to Jimin’s waist, soaking in the body heat, and something as simple as that has Jimin grinning against his mouth. Brand new nerve endings detonate all over Jungkook’s body. If Jungkook’s been looking for a sense of unpolluted freedom, this is it. Him and Jimin, rocketing forward. Jimin surges up even harder, overenthusiastic enough to send Jungkook’s back slamming into the wall. The bookshelf shakes audibly from the force.
“Ow,” Jungkook mutters, slightly breathless, his shoulders smarting. Jimin pulls back, processing what just happened in wonderment, his mouth red and slick.
From the living room, Seokjin calls: “What’d you guys break this time?”
“Nothing!” Jimin says immediately.
“Nothing yet,” Jungkook says at the same time, already leaning back in.
Recipient:
cityinthecloudsPairing: jungkook/jimin
Rating: pg
Word count: 1,900
Summary: four times jimin takes the blame and one time jungkook steps up.
1)
Jungkook watches the painting get knocked off the wall in terrible, slow motion. By the time the wooden frame hits the ground with a hard THUMP, Taehyung has already fled five miles from the crash site. A hush falls across the waiting room. Seokjin jerks upright from his nap like a half-conscious meerkat. Hoseok’s expression contorts with awe, Namjoon’s with disbelief. Jimin stays rooted where he is, the laugh falling off his face, his arm still outstretched like he had any chance of catching their misaimed basketball (which rolls shamefully back towards Jungkook’s feet).
It’s Yoongi, by all appearances dead asleep in a swivel chair, who disrupts the silence with a choked noise. That choked noise segues into a barely audible, tiny kekeke gremlin laugh.
Jungkook picks up the basketball on autopilot. He looks at Jimin standing at the other end of the conference table. Jimin looks back, wide-eyed.
I know what you’re about to do, Jimin’s face says. Don’t do it.
Your face looks weird right now, Jungkook tries to say back with his own face. He can hear one of their managers coming down the hallway, drawn by the commotion.
Dude, I’m serious--
“You’re it,” Jungkook says, and chucks the basketball back at Jimin’s chest before following Taehyung’s lead. Hoseok’s applause follows him out the door. So does Jimin’s huffy, high-pitched shout: “I’LL SEE YOU AT HOME, SHITHE—oh hey, hyung.” Jungkook ducks his head down, grinning wildly at the floor as he runs.
2)
Apparently impulse control doesn’t fully develop until age 25. So say some scientists. Technically even Seokjin’s brain isn’t done maturing. Seokjin could do something wild tomorrow like get a tattoo sleeve or punch some guy and there’d be a plausible biological explanation.
Jungkook’s just trying to say--it could be anyone.
“Uh, you’re not anyone.” Jimin seems kind of thrilled at the idea of Jungkook’s misdemeanor, and dumbfounded by the reality of it.
“So what,” Jungkook says, hastily flushing the cigarette butt down the toilet.
“So what,” Jimin echoes. “So what, you smoke now?”
“I’m just--nothing, I’m just seeing what it’s like.”
“Where’d you get it?”
From one of the older staff whose defining personality trait is ‘unflappable’. Jungkook doesn’t answer.
“Hey, I asked you--”
“It’s no big deal,” Jungkook says, feeling defensive enough to be a little rude. Uncomfortably, he amends: “It’s no big deal, hyung. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”
‘Don’t tell anyone’ is Jimin’s all-purpose password. So is ‘Do this dumbass thing with me’ or any variation of ‘You’re part of something important now’--say it aloud to Jimin and he’s game. You get access anywhere. Right on cue, Jimin’s face shifts, lightens, and the anxious bubble in Jungkook’s chest pops open as well.
“Fine, I didn’t see anything,” Jimin says as he starts fanning the air. He turns on the faucet, grabs Jungkook’s left hand, and pulls it under the running water. While Jimin helps soap the smell off Jungkook’s skin one hand at a time, Jungkook gives his mouth a perfunctory rinse. Their dorm bathroom’s on the small side for this type of illicit activity but as a joint effort it takes less than five minutes to clean Jungkook up.
“Your hair reeks, though,” Jimin comments. “Your shirt, too. C’mon, I’ll bring you a new one.”
Jungkook strips off his t-shirt, balls it up and buries his nose against the fabric. Yeah, smells guilty. “Pants?”
Jimin licks his lips. “Leave ‘em. But I’ll grab you a beanie for the hair.” He flashes Jungkook a thumbs-up. “Stay here. Don’t, like, get into pot while I’m gone.”
Jungkook rubs his neck. “I know.” He isn’t some stupid kid. He’s just feeling sort of--whatever the opposite of peaceful is, you know? It’s not like Jungkook spends a lot of time thinking about what all the other people his age are doing. It’s not like he’s going to jump track, or lose his way. But every once in a while there’s an impulse to cut a hole in the door and find out whether the air outside smells any different.
He washes his hands a second time, waiting for Jimin to come back. When he turns the faucet off, there are people talking somewhere on the other side of the bathroom door. One of them is Hoseok, the other’s Jimin. He can’t make out what they’re saying but Hoseok sounds pissed.
Jungkook bites down on his thumbnail. It tastes kind of ashy. Man, he screwed up.
The conversation goes on for a few more minutes. Jungkook camps out on the toilet seat lid and hopes nobody tries to come in to take a leak.
When Jimin finally sneaks back in, he looks distracted. Jungkook doesn’t really know what to say.
“Did you get in trouble?” he asks.
“Nah, Hobi-hyung’s a second stringer.” Jimin shoves the promised beanie over Jungkook’s hair a little roughly. “But he said I gotta think about my voice.”
Jungkook understands. He tugs the new shirt on over his head without any fuss.
3)
The van drops them off at the dorm after a grueling dance practice, but instead of heading inside, Jungkook tugs discreetly on the back of Jimin’s hoodie, twice.
They end up at the nearby children’s playground that technically belongs to a big apartment complex, but is open to trespassers after dark. Together they sit on the twin red plastic slides and unload some of the shit that’s been weighing on them, eating convenience store ice cream that Jungkook paid for himself. “You’re a good kid after all,” Jimin says, leaning all the way back until he’s lying down, and Jungkook follows suit. No stars out, but it’s a nice and calm night. The moment Jungkook shuts his eyes he can feel himself beginning to drift off. Jimin’s quiet too, except for when he’s letting out a jaw-cracking yawn. To be honest they’d both be better off in their real beds, but out here there’s a spring breeze that feels good on Jungkook’s skin.
“Namjoon-hyung wants to know where we are,” Jimin speaks up again after a while. Jungkook stirs at the sound of Jimin’s voice.
“Did he text?” he asks muzzily.
“Just now. I took care of it, but we gotta go back.”
Jungkook stretches his arms above his head, unwilling to open his eyes yet.
“C’mon, Jungkook.”
“Yeah, coming,” Jungkook says, preparing himself. But then Jimin’s rising first, standing above Jungkook, and helping pull Jungkook back up onto his feet.
4)
Taehyung doesn’t have a pokerface. He gets a great idea and it shines through his pores. So it’s not like Yoongi can’t tell they’re messing with him, when Taehyung taps him on the shoulder and Yoongi makes eye contact with Taehyung’s glowing expression.
“What?”
From across the table, Jungkook swipes one of Yoongi’s dumplings and pops it into his own mouth in three seconds flat.
“Nothing,” says Taehyung.
Next to Jungkook, Jimin’s shoulders hunch up in delight. Jungkook tries and fails to maintain a straight face as he chews. Sitting on his left is one of his favorite coordi noonas, so he gets her attention.
“Noona,” he says, “I think there’s something in my eye.”
She makes a noise of concern and puts down her chopsticks so she can inspect Jungkook more closely. “Is it an eyelash?”
Meanwhile Taehyung cleans out the grilled meat in her bowl. Jimin’s snickering gets drowned out by the lively chaos of their group dinner. It's been a while since they’ve all sat down to eat a proper meal together at 3am, starving but satisfied. Before this Jungkook didn’t think it was possible to get homesick for the same people you see day after day.
It’s Jimin’s turn next. He cracks his knuckles in preparation, but Jungkook can see Taehyung’s brain working inside his head, pulsing like a firefly. The beginning of another Great Idea.
Again, Taehyung taps Yoongi on the shoulder. Again, Yoongi rumbles, “What?”
Jimin strikes fast, aiming for another dumpling.
“Hey!” Taehyung says. “Park Jimin, what sort of a dongsaeng are you?”
Jimin freezes, chopsticks grasping air. Yoongi’s head snaps over. He pins Jimin with an entertained look that turns Jimin’s entire neck pink.
Jungkook joins in immediately. “How can you behave this way towards your hyung?”
“If you wanted a dumpling, Park Jimin, you could’ve asked,” Yoongi drawls.
Jimin’s voice rises two octaves: “It wasn’t just me! Jungkook took one too!”
“Aren’t you setting a bad example?” Jungkook says, and cracks up when Jimin slings an arm around his neck and drags him close.
“How can you behave this way towards your hyung, you punk--”
“What hyung,” Jungkook goes for the default response, muffled against Jimin’s armpit.
“You’re a pain in the ass,” Jimin complains into Jungkook’s ear. He tightens his grip, surrounding Jungkook in a slightly sweaty, boyish cocoon that manages to be warmer than the rowdy tenderness of the restaurant, stronger than the heat of the smoky grill.
5)
Sometime later that month, Jungkook finds a familiar t-shirt under Jimin’s bed on cleaning day.
“You never gave this back,” he says when Jimin returns to the bedroom with the latest load of laundry in his arms.
“I forgot,” Jimin says quickly.
Jungkook gives the shirt a sniff. It still smells stalely of cigarette smoke. “You didn’t wash it either,” he jokes.
“I did you a big enough favor that time!”
“I know,” Jungkook says, and finally gets around to telling Jimin, a couple weeks too late: “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”
“Yeah, well,” Jimin says, “it’s you.”
He looks embarrassed, as if he’s said something neither Jungkook nor the whole rest of the world already kind of recognize. But now that Jungkook’s actually here, it does feel like it’s on a different magnitude, to hear it from Jimin’s mouth, and see Jimin’s expression when he says it, and understand the response singing through himself.
Of all the crap Jungkook’s done in the name of self-determination, leaning over and kissing Jimin on the cheek is one of the braver things.
Jimin jerks back in surprise to search Jungkook’s face. “What was that for?”
“I dunno.” Jungkook shrugs. “Just because.”
That is a nervous fucking cop-out answer. Luckily Jimin isn’t about to dwell on it. He comes alive, dropping the laundry basket onto the floor so he can grip Jungkook’s neck and haul him down the extra few centimeters.
The first press of Jimin’s mouth is cautious. The second is nice. It’s the third that makes Jungkook think distantly, Oh boy, as Jimin stops being polite and slips Jungkook some tongue. His chest and hips push up solidly against Jungkook’s. Jungkook can’t help the willing little noise he makes. Everyone says he’s an eager student. His hands go to Jimin’s waist, soaking in the body heat, and something as simple as that has Jimin grinning against his mouth. Brand new nerve endings detonate all over Jungkook’s body. If Jungkook’s been looking for a sense of unpolluted freedom, this is it. Him and Jimin, rocketing forward. Jimin surges up even harder, overenthusiastic enough to send Jungkook’s back slamming into the wall. The bookshelf shakes audibly from the force.
“Ow,” Jungkook mutters, slightly breathless, his shoulders smarting. Jimin pulls back, processing what just happened in wonderment, his mouth red and slick.
From the living room, Seokjin calls: “What’d you guys break this time?”
“Nothing!” Jimin says immediately.
“Nothing yet,” Jungkook says at the same time, already leaning back in.
no subject
no subject
Technically even Seokjin’s brain isn’t done maturing. Seokjin could do something wild tomorrow like get a tattoo sleeve or punch some guy and there’d be a plausible biological explanation.
I scream-laughed at this and then sat in silence for 5 mins just running this image thru my mind. thanks a lot for that !!
That is a nervous fucking cop-out answer. Luckily Jimin isn’t about to dwell on it. He comes alive, dropping the laundry basket onto the floor so he can grip Jungkook’s neck and haul him down the extra few centimeters.
I... <3 ok, so the height difference gets me every time. This entire last scene gave me a big, silly grin, actually.
Thanks for writing my prompt, I enjoyed it!<3
no subject
If Jungkook’s been looking for a sense of unpolluted freedom, this is it. Him and Jimin, rocketing forward.
this is nice, hehe. thanks for writing!
no subject
no subject
no subject