Chapter Text
SHOCK
Jimin adjusted the bottoms of his black spandex shorts with a snap. The atmosphere in the club seemed to shift as he climbed up into his cage. Jimin was a dancer in his town’s only gay club, and every time he came to work, Jimin knew he'd have an audience looking for a show. It was a lot of pressure.
But Jimin could deliver.
Jimin put both hands on the bars encasing him. His polyester Huckapoo shirt slipped a little further off his shoulders. He took his mark. As a gogo dancer, Jimin had three talents:
- Hitting that sprinkler.
- Mowing that lawn.
- Shaking that ass.
He brought it all to the stage the second his Bee Gees Megamix blasted through the speakers.
It was a Friday night and the club was packed. People were pressed up against the edge of his caged stage. Hands reached out at his feet, and Jimin had to keep his footing sure to avoid stepping on any fingers. He did a quick disco point -”Exits and Molehills” as it was known in the industry- and the crowd went wild.
Jimin rewarded his audience with a cheeky slut drop. His face flushed when the entire club started screaming.
But the best gogo dancers didn’t try to steal the spotlight; they were supposed to get the party started. Jimin loved attention, he loved people staring at him, but after spending a song or two gyrating for his audience, he toned it down so people on the edges of the crowd could copy his basic moves. Three songs later, and no one was paying attention to Jimin at all.
Jimin slipped out of his cage. He danced his way through a mass of sweaty guys and a handful of wasted girls before finding his friends at their usual table.
“Hey!” Hoseok cheered when he saw Jimin approach.
“Heeeey!” Seokjin echoed. Yoongi was face down on the tabletop, a tell-all flush making his ears burn red. Seokjin looked a little pink too, and Jimin smiled at Hoseok.
“You the DD?” he asked.
“Yoongi deserved a good night out,” Hoseok confirmed, reaching out to twirl a finger through Yoongi’s hair. Yoongi didn’t move a muscle. Hoseok smiled at him fondly, love and adoration practically dripping from his expression, and Jimin had to fight back a wince. It was always gross to see two people so ooeily-gooeily in love, but it was somehow worse when it was his two best friends.
“Woah, hey, I have eyes,” Jimin complained.
“But look at how cute he is,” Hoseok gushed, picking Yoongi’s head up for him so he could squish his cheeks together and kiss his nose. Yoongi closed his eyes and groaned pitifully.
Meanwhile, Seokjin groaned forcefully. “Ugh, god, stop,” he whined. He turned to Jimin. “See? This is what I’ve been dealing with all night. Quit your job so I can end my miserable existence as a third wheel.”
“Can’t,” Jimin said apologetically, reaching out to take a sip of Hoseok’s water. “I like my job.”
“How’s it going out there?” Hoseok asked, relocating Yoongi so that he was lying on his shoulder. Hoseok stole his water back from Jimin and raised it to Yoongi’s lips.
“Fine,” Jimin answered. “Sweaty.”
“Hm,” Hoseok said. Jimin didn’t like the calculating look in his eye.
Jimin pulled his shirt closed self-consciously, eyes narrowing. “What?”
“Nothing,” Hoseok said.
“What?” Jimin asked again.
Hoseok pressed his lips together and drummed his fingers on the table a couple of times. “Nothing, nothing, just… Maybe it’s time.”
Jimin gagged as he realized what Hoseok was getting at. “Gross, no, it will never be time.”
“Time for what?” Seokjin asked.
“Time to be a real, grown-up boy,” Yoongi muttered into Hoseok’s neck, stealing the water for himself. Seokjin arched an eyebrow, and Hoseok connected the dots.
“Time for Jimin to settle down. Get a real job. Find himself a -dare I say it- real relationship-”
“Hookups are real relationships!” Jimin interrupted. “Or, at least as real as I want to make them. And also, I like my job.”
Hoseok sputtered. “Jimin, this place has a lime green and mustard color scheme. It has shag carpeting. And worse than that, the floor is hardwood, and the carpet is on the walls. You have to wear roller skates half the night. Why would anyone in their right mind want to work here?”
“Because it’s fun.”
“Settling down is also fun,” Seokjin said, his eye contact wavering between Hoseok and Jimin. Jimin was used to the third degree from Hoseok, but Seokjin had never chimed in on the matter before.
“Not you, too,” Jimin whined.
“I’m just saying,” Hoseok said. “Dancing, clubs, one night stands… that’s good for college, but now we’re adults. It’s time to face the music.”
“Okay, listen. My wonderful, diverse, noncommittal sex life is alive and thriving. I get to dance. For a living. The ultimate dream. You’re just upset because my workplace upsets your designer sensibilities,” Jimin said. Hoseok was an interior designer, and while that made the very cheap apartment they shared about a million times more habitable, it also meant he was kind of a snob.
Jimin could deal with his best friend being a little finicky if it meant their apartment was always clean and welcoming when he came home.
Hoseok, meanwhile, looked unamused. “You can’t fool me, Jimin. I live with you. I know your true soul.”
“True soul,” Yoongi whispered.
“Oh ho ho,” Seokjin interrupted, sitting up straight. “Speaking of Jimin’s sex life, would you look who it is.”
Jimin popped his head up and found who Seokjin was talking about immediately. In a club full of polyester and daisy dukes, his slacks and dress shirt stood out like a sore thumb.
Jimin’s eyes widened.
“Didn’t think we’d see him here again,” Hoseok mused, dragging his finger across the table. Jimin didn’t like the lilt to his voice.
“Seems like he’s searching for something,” Seokjin teased. “Or someone.”
Jimin sat rigid in absolute shock. Their eyes met: Jimin’s and Kim Namjoon’s.
Jimin wasn’t proud of every one night stand he’d ever had. Sometimes he made mistakes. Kim Namjoon had been one of his biggest.
He’d been so cute when Jimin first saw him. He had the thickest glasses conceivable, and his shirt had been buttoned up so close to the top, Jimin had worried he’d choke. He’d been so refreshing. Jimin was used to boys in ripped muscle tees with buzzed undercuts, and Namjoon was so…
Quaint.
So when Namjoon stayed waiting for Jimin to take off his skates and lock up the club at the end of the night, Jimin couldn’t help but stumble home with him. In the morning, Jimin left before Namjoon woke up when he saw his same chunky glasses on the bedside table, and everything felt too real too fast.
Namjoon stumbled across the dance floor towards him.
“What is happening?” Jimin managed to squeak.
“I think he wants to talk to you,” Hoseok answered.
“Why?”
It was too late for Hoseok to answer. Namjoon was already within earshot, and Jimin stayed frozen in his seat. “Jimin,” Namjoon said, having reached the table. “It's good to see you again. You left.”
Jimin swallowed thickly. “Um… I did.”
“And you didn’t leave your number.”
“No, I did not,” Jimin said dumbly. He heard Hoseok snicker behind him.
Namjoon squirmed where he stood. “That was pretty shitty of you-”
“I’m so sorry-”
“After talking all night about your favorite milkshake place, dragging Dairy Queen through the dirt, and telling me that I’d never know what it truly means to be alive until I’ve had a 50/50 with a cherry, whipped cream, and two straws, you’d think you’d have at least put the name of the place you like so much on a post-it,” Namjoon finished, and Jimin blinked, a surprise laugh bubbling out of him.
“You just want a milkshake?” he asked.
Namjoon shrugged. “I mean, I came here for a drink, but when I saw you… Well, I couldn’t help but ask.”
“I can’t believe I talked to you about milkshakes for so long,” Jimin said, smiling in spite of himself.
“You did,” Namjoon said.“For the entire ride back to my place. It…” He shifted awkwardly. “... wasn’t great foreplay.”
“Oh my god, well, now I’m sorry for different reasons,” Jimin said, his face turning pink. Namjoon had a way of talking that Jimin could melt into. Jimin had been terrified when Namjoon first stepped into the club, but Jimin was starting to remember why he fell for him in the first place. He was soft and cute on the outside, but his deep voice and strong jaw made Jimin’s heart pound. “Do you have a pen?”
Namjoon pulled one out from his shirt pocket.
Jimin arched an eyebrow. “No pocket protector, huh?” he asked as he scrawled out the name of of his favorite milkshake spot, Nifty Fifties, onto Namjoon’s wrist. “Kind of would have fit with the cute, geeky aesthetic,” he said and immediately snapped his mouth shut. Jimin didn’t have an off-switch. He was literally always flirting, even with boys he’d already gone home with and fucked over.
“Nah, I like to take risks.”
“Oh, do you?”
“Yeah. I think I’m about to take one right now.”
Jimin furrowed his eyebrows together. “How’s that?”
“Jimin,” Namjoon said, meeting his eye. He looked nervous. “Would you escort me to your…” He squinted down at his hand. “Nifty Fifties? Wow, you really do like places with an era attached, don’t you?”
“I do,” Jimin said. “And I will! I mean, well, yes. Yes. We can go together.”
“On a date?” Hoseok chirped from behind him, and Jimin whirled around, blindly slapping at his arm. He didn’t apologize when his smack disturbed Yoongi, who was now half asleep on Hoseok’s shoulder.
“Someone has to make sure he gets the right thing! His first experience should be perfect!”
Namjoon cleared his throat. “Um… Well, if the answer is still a yes, I think I’m going to actually need your number this time around,” he said, and Jimin could feel sweat beading on the back of his neck.
“Right. Sorry.” He scribbled his number out beneath the restaurant’s name. When he looked up, Namjoon was beaming.
“Awesome! I’ll call you.”
“Or just text me,” Jimin said in a last ditch attempt to make things more casual.
“A text it is,” Namjoon agreed. The music switched and Jimin recognized his cue to get back to his cage. He winced.
“Um… I gotta go work. But… but text me later? Or don’t. Or whatever.”
“I will,” Namjoon said assuredly.
“Okay,” Jimin said, heat rising to his ears. As he hurried away, he could hear Hoseok laughing loudly behind him. Jimin had never ran to his next set faster.