Work Text:
It was just like any other day, where the team was always on the ball with something. Timeslots were filled and most nights, heads don’t hit the pillow until five in the morning, allotting only a few hours before dragging themselves out of bed and repeating the process. Such a demanding lifestyle felt like too much some days. They were only bulletproof, not invincible to the need for closeness. The warmth of another person's body, mouth.
It felt like routine that Yoongi fell for Jimin, like how it feels routine to be sitting, mind a million miles away, while Yoongi gets his makeup done. It’s photocard day, and Yoongi had no problem with getting dolled up and pretending he was as pretty as everyone says he is. He had no problem with any of it anymore, really. Because it was routine.
What wasn’t routine, was that, by some miracle, Jimin’s makeup noona brought a new lip gloss that she really wanted to see on him. Yoongi watched from the mirror as it happened. It wasn’t so poignant that he felt the movement to have been in slow motion, but it’s far from unremarkable and he’s a little disappointed that they have him close his eyes to apply shadow, that he can’t admire Jimin as he is surely pouting in the mirror right now, looking sweet and pink, like candy.
Yeah, it was routine, and Yoongi always had a soft spot for such things.
It’s not until they’re released onto the set like animals (Jin and Jungkook have been having a friendly spat all day. It took their stylists a little longer to get them ready to shoot. The details are blurry but they’re definitely keeping tally on neck chops) that Yoongi has the gall to peek over at Jimin where he’s set up with props on the opposite side of the room. The sets all follow a similar theme; exotic, fanning leaves and gem-coloured flora. Even at a distance, Yoongi could make out the greens and fuschias reflecting off his lips.
Jimin catches the stare and winks at the rapper playfully before turning his attention back to the camera. It catches Yoongi off guard, he can feel his face flush under the makeup.
“Suga, over here please.”
"Sorry."
Routine. Of course.
Yoongi avoids the younger man the rest of the day, feeling perverse. Jimin never felt like taking off the gloss, in fact, he offered to buy it from noona right on the spot but she turns him down and says to just take it. It was too obvious, the way Jimin spoke about it so loudly to her before everyone left for the next schedule, thanking her up and down. When Yoongi finally sees it up close, he sees what the fuss is really about. It was not just the glossy, sticky mess he thought it would be. It had a thin sheen of glitter than looked pink to teal in different lighting, and noona bragged about the non-sticky but extra shiny formula. It was her favourite brand, she said, and even if she was his regular makeup artist, it obviously meant a lot to her that her specific choice in product for him was Jimin-Approved.
“It dangerous though,” she told him, “When ARMY sees it, they’ll go crazy!”
Jimin laughed.
Yoongi did not.
It was at the end of the night that Yoongi felt like he was going to go crazy. He couldn’t look at Jimin all day without thinking about how nice his lips looked, how nice they would taste, the mess it would make. They spoke, of course, but Yoongi had to make a special effort not to stare.
In a dead silent dorm, the sound of Yoongi’s phone chiming was completely unwelcome. At the other end of the room, a half-asleep Jin goes, “Don’t you ever silence that thing?” before a long string of muffled snores immediately follow.
Whatever, anything to get his mind off Jimin. They never had time to do stuff anymore anyways, Yoongi thinks to himself as he squints at the assaulting light of his phone.
It’s a text from the man himself. With an attachment.
dont be such a sourpuss :3
Goddamnit.
It’s a photo taken sometime earlier in the day, during, or maybe after the shoot, a selca of Jimin with the same pout Yoongi had been imagining him make in the mirror.
Another message comes in, the chime ringing throughout the room again. Yoongi hurriedly silences it before he wakes up Jin for real and has to explain that his phone was going off cause Jimin was sending suggesting photos. How does he know it’s suggestive? He doesn’t, but his mind is sure going in that direction.
Yeah, not a conversation he feels like having with his hyung right now.
He can’t help himself when he opens the next attachment, Jimin in the same scene but expression slightly different. His eyes are more lidded, mouth hanging open just slightly. Whatever filter he’s pasted on top of it has sharpened the glossy effect, making it impossible not to focus on.
Another message comes in. Then another.
<3
Yoongi can feel heat flushing his face, pooling in his gut, and it doesn’t feel fair. Jimin knew all day and he’s been teasing the lyricist on purpose.
Fucking Park Jimin. Stupid sexy, supple, beautiful, annoying as all hell Park Jimin.
Yoongi’s phone buzzes over and over again. He leaves the thing on his bed to lose battery and die from the number of notifications or something, while he stalks to the shared bathroom to wash his face.
He does so, cold water of course. The heat has been in his cheeks all day it felt like. Like he would just combust if he keeps on this train of thought, and his head just keeps saying all these lovely poetic things, trimmed with carnality and yearning, lust and adoration, that he doesn’t notice when the man of his desires sneaks into the bathroom right behind him.
Maybe he didn’t notice, but maybe he just chose to ignore it. He knew Jimin would hear him and follow.
The door is shut once more and Jimin presses himself flush against Yoongi’s back, making eye contact through the mirror. Barefaced and tired, the younger man's expression still radiated with love and a weightless censure. Yoongi feels himself soften at the breath on his ear as Jimin takes his time to nuzzle just behind it.
"Yoongi," he croons, soft and light as his hands clasp around the older man's middle, "what's wrong?"
Yoongi sighs at the question. Was something wrong?
"Nothing, really."
"Reaaally?"
"Yeah."
In what really feels like slow motion, he lets Jimin spin him around to face him.
His smile is broad and sweet, but with a veil of knowing . He lets his arms rest on Yoongi's shoulders, wrists limp and dainty.
"Say it to my face then."
Yoongi looks up to him, "I'm fine."
"Mmm. I dunno."
Jimin leans forward, just close enough to brush lips, sending tingles down Yoongi's spine, and older meets him the rest of the way as they share a kiss.
"How about now?"
"Hm," he leans into him, first cautiously, then with a bit more ardour, broad hands wandering up and down Jimin's back unable to find a comfortable resting spot. He props a chin on his shoulder and hum, almost content with just drawing him close.
"I know... we get no time alone anymore huh?"
Jimin saw the patterns. The vacant stare into nothing at times, how he'd knead the flesh of his limbs with a restless energy. The way Yoongi would rather pass time with a nap than play on his phone or joke with the other boys during downtime. And Yoongi sometimes let himself fall into that easy, driftless, personal schedule.
Jimin was well aware of the rappers boundaries, how he felt more comfortable knowing there's a door nearby, somewhere to escape and be alone when the anxiety hits. So Jimin didn't try to coddle him. All he could really do was play Yoongi's own game, try to get his attention, something without words that said "hey, pay me some mind" and by the order of some miracle (thank you Daeoon noona) the opportunity arose.
It’s routine for Yoongi to ignore his boyfriend when he felt overwhelmed.
Jimin always knew what to do. And without words, he knew Yoongi was grateful someone noticed, that Jimin noticed.
Yoongi was tired, exhausted even, barely remembering why he came to the bathroom in the first place. He felt his engine sputtering at the comeuppance of rapture Jimin has graced him with. He leans a little heavier on the younger man, fingers dancing in tune on Jimin's hips. In turn, Jimin presses a lingering kiss to the skin where neck meets shoulder and Yoongi shudders at the contact.
"Jiminie... just coming into the bathroom without knocking,” Yoongi teases half heartedly, “So rude, you should go back to bed."
“No, I missed you, I’m giving you love first.”
Yoongi feels himself swell with warmth, in his heart- mostly. Jimin's got the older man square against the bathroom counter with a devious tone to his voice as he presses their hips together.
They share another kiss, this one with a lazier passion. Yoongi's hands find their way to the meat of Jimin's ass, without thinking he gives him a rough squeeze, producing a beautiful sound from his lips as they melt into each other.
"Oh? Someone is purring."
Jimin smiles against his lips and with a sneaky hand, tangles his fingers at the hair of the base of Yoongi's skull and gives it a tug. He gives in with a gravelly moan as Jimin peppers kisses up and down the exposed flesh.
Jimin reaches to the back of Yoongi's thighs, hoisting him up the slight distance to let him sit upon the counter.
"Yes,” Jimin giggles, looking up to him, “it's you."
It's like a dream, the way Yoongi lets himself unravel in front of Jimin. Not like the ones he's had in the depths of sleep, but like a fantasy of over indulgence. Something that seems underserved on the other side of a thin sheet of frosted glass. Something so easy to desire, so visible yet warped in its meaning. Like it's meant for someone else.
But Jimin was on the other side, always waiting, always cheering him on. If one could just peak over the cusp of that barrier, they could see that what lies on the other side is not as otherworldly as they thought it could be–It's just another person. Someone who wants to love the deepest parts of them, the most shallow parts of them. The sarcastic and biting parts. The parts where it feels like it would be better to not give mind to.
The parts that come out in the midst of stress that make it seem like everything would be better if one just shuts themselves away.
Yoongi could recognize it, but sometimes it wasn't just the schedule, the workload. Sometimes depression had different tactics. Ones that even Yoongi couldn't fight alone, because it shuts off the part of his brain that wanted to care, wanted to speak up about it. Rare. Yet unchecked, leaves devastating consequences.
When Jimin looked up to Yoongi, the older man's eyes had become glassy, rimmed in the soft yellow hues of the light.
Jimin's expression had him both feeling guilty of spreading such a negative emotion and relief at the way it made him hurt. There was something poetic and soul catching in Jimins voice when he asks again.
"Yoongi, are you really okay?"
"No," the man finally admits, "I don't think so."
Jimin takes his hand, trailing chaste kisses from the back of his hand, over dry knuckles, to the tips of his fingers that had been chewed to nubs the last few weeks. Yoongi can barely handle it, eyes flashing to the door, feeling his heart race for different reasons than earlier. He wants to escape, run to his shared room, hide for the next couple hours under the covers. Go back to comfortable silence. Comfortable routine.
"Yoongi."
Jimins sees the signs. He always does. It's just a matter of knowing in his heart what to say.
"It's okay, to not be okay. Right? You said it best."
He cups the older man's cheeks in his hands, lets his thumbs graze the delicate skin there.
"You were born to be real, not perfect."
A beat of silence passes as all Yoongi can do is stare at him.
"And I love you. You can talk to me. You already speak to me, no words required," he smiles again, feeling like he was nearing the end goal of his plan. And what a lucky plan it was. And how full circle it had been.
The dorm is silent save for the quiet sounds of the two speaking about it.
When Yoongi's head hit Jimin's pillow, tucked into each other, that was that. The obscene photos, the devious tactics that Jimin used just to comfort him in the end, all forgotten for the night.
Gloss was only the beginning, but the sweet catharsis of loving another and loving yourself—That is the end goal, dusted with sugar and dotted in the shiniest, reddest strawberries.
Jimin always had a soft spot for such honeyed things, especially his Suga.
The next morning may have been routine all over again, sacrificed sleep causing his eyes to feel glued shut until his first coffee, but the renewed life in his boyfriend made everything worth it.
It was always worth the effort.