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The heel of Jimin’s new Gucci slide loafer caught on the third step from the bottom, and by the time he regained his senses, he’d slid down those three steps on his butt, the shoe had flown all the way across the entry, and his ankle hurt like hell.
“Whoa,” said the guy who’d just come in the door from the street. He stood looking at Jimin’s shoe, which he’d caught one-handed, on the fly - with his left hand - and then registered that Jimin wasn’t getting up. “Whoa, are you okay?” he said, coming quickly to crouch by Jimin.
“Yeah,” said Jimin, out loud, and then muttered, “Just my pride,” under his breath. He started to stand, and then squeaked and collapsed, whacking his back on the edge of the bottom step. That had hurt like hell.
“You’ve twisted your ankle,” said Whoa Guy, putting down the shoe and putting one hand on Jimin’s shoulder, as if to steady him. “Can I check it out for you?”
“Uh, I guess?” said Jimin.
“I’m a nurse,” said the guy. He didn’t look like the popular conception of a nurse. This was a tallish young dude in baggy black clothes and a black bucket hat and the sort of hideously ugly sneakers that were popular among a certain set of sporty people these days. Streetwear people. Not Jimin’s people.
Whoa Nurse’s fingers probed Jimin’s ankle gently, but confidently. Jimin bit his lip to avoid another squeak of pain. “Okay, I’m going to flex the joint a little. Tell me if this hurts.” The squeak he couldn’t hold back came out Jimin’s nose.
“Yep, that hurt!” said the guy, cheerfully. “The fact that you can move it that much and it’s not already swollen up like a grapefruit suggests a strain, not a bad sprain or a break. It might be a day or two before you can really put weight on it, though.”
“Damn it, I was on my way to work,” said Jimin.
“Nope,” said the nurse. “I think for today you should wrap and rest it, and tomorrow if it isn’t too swollen, you can probably hobble a bit.”
“Wrap it?” said Jimin. He felt pitiful. How was he supposed to even get to a clinic? Hop?
“I’m pretty sure I have a good flexible bandage in my apartment, if you don’t have one,” the guy said. He had an infectious, boyish grin that made it seem as if he was positively pleased that Jimin had twisted his ankle. “You live here? What floor? Oh, are you the new guy on three?”
“Yeah,” said Jimin, and then squeaked again as he was suddenly scooped up, bridal style. “What are you doing?” he laughed, incredulous.
“I’m carrying you up to your apartment! I’m right across the hall, and your ankle is in no condition to take the stairs. Were you planning to crawl?” He grinned again, like he was proud of himself for hefting Jimin (who was on the shorter side of tall, but hardly a tiny person or anything) so easily.
“Thank you,” said Jimin, a little stiffly, trying to retain his dignity. It was hard to be dignified while being carried up a flight of concrete steps by a complete stranger who looked like he’d just graduated from high school, but in Jimin’s line of work, a sort of haughty dignity was something he’d practiced. “My name is Park Jimin.”
“Nice to meet you, Jimin-ssi. I’m your neighbor Jeon Jungkook, and as a welcome to the building I’m going to wrap your ankle and dose you with up with an anti-inflammatory painkiller.”
Jimin tried to be less embarrassed, and more grateful, as he noticed how carefully his neighbor was navigating the fairly narrow staircase, taking care not to bump any protruding parts of Jimin against the walls or railings. He was also toting more than 60 kilograms up a flight of stairs so easily he didn’t even appear to be breathing heavily. He set Jimin down slowly and gently, all his weight on his right leg, in front of the door, and stepped back respectfully to allow privacy as Jimin entered the door code.
“I’m just going to run into my place and grab some supplies,” he said. “Are you okay standing for a minute? I’ll be quick.”
“Yes, thank you, Jungkook-ssi,” said Jimin, and got out his phone, leaning against the wall. First he called his supervisor, and passed along the news that he was out of commission for the day, and would check back in at the end of the day to see how tomorrow looked. He only had time to send three short messages to Taehyung (‘omg I fell and twisted my ankle / not coming to work today / send me lots of hearts it hurts!!’) before Jungkook reappeared, now wearing house slippers.
“Let me help you to the couch,” he said, hands full, and soon had Jimin seated. Jimin winced; bumping down the steps meant that his ankle was not the only part of him hurting. “Uh, here’s your, uh, shoe,” said Jungkook, looking suddenly shy.
“Thank you,” said Jimin, looking at it ruefully. “They’re new, and they were expensive. Why did you betray me like that?” he asked, a little dramatically, and tossed the shoe towards the door, and followed it up with its mate.
“So, I can wrap your ankle, but actually, um, maybe you should change into something more comfortable? I’ll need to roll up your pants, and those look fancy enough that I don’t think that’s a good idea. Do you have sweatpants?”
“Oh, good point,” said Jimin, looking down at his dress pants, which were very trimly cut and would definitely crease badly if rolled up. “Uh,” said said, looking up into Jungkook’s wide eyes, “Would you be willing to help me to the bedroom?”
“Think of me as your nurse at the hospital,” said Jungkook, earnestly. “I move patients and help them dress or undress all the time. It’s just practical.”
“I have never seen a nurse that looked like you,” said Jimin, letting just a hint of flirtation creep into his voice.
Jungkook blushed hard. “There, uh, there are actually a lot of male nurses,” he said, lowering his eyes. “Many patients have mobility issues, so it’s very helpful to have larger, stronger people on the staff.”
“Mmmhmmm,” said Jimin, and they made their way to the bedroom, Jungkook with an arm around Jimin’s waist, supporting him firmly and completely professionally, as he hopped. Jungkook got Jimin settled on the bed and followed his directions to find a pair of sweatpants (there was a grey pair helpfully left sprawled on the closet floor) and politely stepped out into the living area while Jimin changed. After they hopped back to the couch, Jungkook knelt and wrapped up Jimin’s ankle in the stretchy beige bandage with a swift confidence.
He stood and asked, “May I get you a glass of water?” and fetched a glass out of the cupboard in the kitchenette and ran the tap. He extracted two pills from a bottle he’d tucked in his pocket, and watched as Jimin swallowed them down, and then went to refill the glass and set it down on the end table. “I think you should lie down now; let’s prop the foot on a pillow, okay? I want you to keep it elevated and keep off it as much as possible today. Can I get you anything else?”
He fetched Jimin a book and some snacks and then insisted on taking Jimin’s phone and inputting his contacts. “Don’t hesitate to message me if you need anything. I should be home all day.”
Jimin had acquiesced to all of Jungkook’s directions with a docility that would have made anyone who knew him well rather suspicious. By the time he’d gotten in the door of his apartment, he’d realized that not only was Jeon Jungkook very nice and medically competent and ridiculously fit, he was also quite attractive and smelled nice, sort of cosy, like clean laundry. His first foray into flirtation having been received with blushes, Jimin had decided to sit back and observe his neighbor, before trying again. After all, the man lived across the hall, and now Jimin had his number; there would be plenty of time to explore the possibilities of a cute, strong nurse who said “Whoa.”
That evening Jungkook stopped in briefly, on his way someplace, to check on the ankle, and they ran into each other in the lobby again two days after that, when Jimin was very late for work and couldn’t say more than a breezy, “Hello! Goodbye!” But then a whole week passed with no contact, and Jimin felt that messaging would be a little forward, so he kept hoping they’d meet in the hall in passing. He found himself listening for noises in the hallway so he could pop out ‘accidentally’ but so far no opportunity had presented itself. Jungkook seemed to work a pretty irregular schedule.
Then on Friday night Jimin set down his glass on the kitchen counter, and it must have been possessed or something, because he really hadn’t set it down very hard at all, but it shattered and he found himself splashed in red wine. When he looked down there was a dot of brighter red on the top of his bare foot. As he watched, it started to ooze and trickle down the arch. Only after he watched for a few seconds did he realize that it hurt, and there was a big shard of glass sticking out of his foot. He yelped.
Taehyung looked up, surprised, and his eyes widened further as he saw the expression of shock and pain on Jimin’s face. Seokjin, who had been in mid-sentence, had the self-possession to cross the room to Jimin and crouch by his foot. He looked up and said, “Ouch, that looks deep. It’s sort of stuck in. Should I pull it out?”
“No!” said Jimin. “It’s like when the guy in the movie gets stabbed; he only bleeds to death when you pull out the knife!”
“Well, what am I supposed to do then?” asked Seokjin.
Taehyung, reassured by the tone of this exchange that Jimin wasn’t too badly hurt, said, “Hey, do you think Hot Nurse Neighbor might be home? You should call him.”
“I can’t do that; it’s embarrassing!” said Jimin, and then looked down at the floor, where the red was already forming a small puddle under the arch of his foot. “Okay, okay, bring me my phone,” he said, grabbing the counter firmly.
Barely a minute later Seojkin was opening the door to Jungkook. His eyes were concerned as he took in the scene. Jimin was still gripping the countertop, knuckles a little white as he tried to keep himself steady and not panicking, watching the blood pool on the floor. Taehyung stood snuggled close behind, with a soothing and supporting arm around his waist. Jungkook gathered himself and stalked across the room, quickly kneeling at Jimin’s feet, setting down a black bag. “This will probably pinch a bit,” he said, and pulled out the shard of glass swiftly, clapping a white towel he’d brought over the wound and holding it tightly.
Jimin squeaked, and Jungkook looked up, and said, “Okay, now I want you to sit down on the floor.” He met eyes with Taehyung, whose chin was nestled on Jimin’s shoulder, and said “Slowly - can you help ease him down?” Taehyung nodded obediently and wrapped both arms around Jimin’s waist, as Jimin bent his knee and tried to sit down while bearing all his weight on only one leg, keeping the leg with the hurt foot relaxed. “It’s lucky this is the other foot,” said Jungkook, a little wry. “Is the ankle you strained up to this?”
“Oh great, kick a guy when he’s down, why don’t you,” said Jimin, but his voice was a little faint.
When Jimin was on the floor, leaning back against Taehyung’s chest, Jungkook lifted the hurt foot, still pressing hard on the towel, and propped it on his own thigh. He made deliberate eye contact with Jimin, and smiled gently, saying “Hey, you’re going to be fine. Just try to breathe normally, okay?” He brought his eyes up to Taehyung’s. “Can you help set the pace and keep him calm? In, and out. Slow and steady.”
Taehyung looked back at Jungkook as if mesmerized. “Wow, this guy is really professional, and really cute,” he murmured in Jimin’s ear.
Jungkook peeked under the towel, and then pressed down hard again. “You got yourself pretty good,” he said, mildly. “It looks deep. Do you have any idea when the last time you had a tetanus shot was?”
“No,” said Jimin, blanching.
“Well, then, you should get one, just as a precaution. I don’t think this is going to need to be stitched - if you’d hit a big blood vessel it would be bleeding a lot more - so when we get the bleeding slowed down, which will be soon, with elevation and pressure, I’ll do a butterfly bandage to keep it closed and then a waterproof bandage over it. You can get the tetanus booster tomorrow - it doesn’t need to be right away. And if you go to a clinic tomorrow they can check on the wound and make sure it’s starting to heal all right.”
Seokjin, who was still standing, arms folded, watching with a slightly appalled fascination, said, “I am so glad you were home. We had no idea what to do.”
Jungkook looked up over his shoulder. “It’s my pleasure to help,” he said, and flashed his grin.
Jimin rallied a bit, and made introductions all around. “Thank you for taking such good care of our clumsy friend, Jungkook-ssi,” said Seokjin. “I’ll sleep much more easily knowing he has a competent medical professional living across the hall.”
Jimin frowned a little, and said, “Hey!” but then laughed ruefully, and continued, “Seokjin-hyung is always telling me I should wrap myself in bubble wrap.”
“For someone who teaches dance you are definitely the clumsiest person I know,” said Seokjin.
“Oh, you teach dance?” asked Jungkook. “You didn’t say that before, did you? I kind of thought you were in sales.”
“I just teach ballet to six year olds, part-time,” said Jimin. “I am in sales, mostly. So are these guys; we all work at Gucci, in Gangnam. I’m in shoes, Seokjin-hyung is in women’s - he’s very good with women over 50 especially - and Taehyung makes men question their sexuality while selling them ties and sweaters.”
“Oh,” said Jungkook, looking around at them. “Wow. That sounds very fancy.”
“We are very fancy,” said Taehyung.
“I’m not very fancy,” said Jungkook. “I’m just a nurse, and I take hip-hop dance classes for fun. But my hospital is in Gangnam, actually; I work at SNUH.”
“You should come out with us some night after work,” said Taehyung, nudging Jimin’s head with his nose. “Seokjin-hyung is a gourmand, he knows all the best places to eat.”
“Uh, sure,” said Jungkook, peeking again under the white towel. “I think things are settling down here. The bleeding seems mostly stopped. I’m going to clean things off and disinfect, and then bandage you up, okay?”
“I’m feeling better already,” said Jimin. “I’m serious; you are very good at making people feel like they’re in good hands. Did you always want to be a nurse?”
Jungkook blushed, and answered a little shyly, as he worked at wiping some kind of antibacterial solution over Jimin’s foot. “My parents wanted me to be a doctor, but even by middle school I was so hopeless at math I knew I’d never get into medical school. But I liked the idea of helping people like that, and being a nurse ended up being a better fit for me. The doctors at work are so busy that they never have the time to get to know the patients, but I can develop relationships with them, and that’s actually an important part of medical care. People honestly heal faster when they feel cared for,” he said, looking up earnestly.
Taehyung nudged Jimin’s head again, and Jimin glanced up and saw that Seokjin was looking at Jungkook like he was some amazing mythical creature that had suddenly appeared in Jimin’s kitchen. Seokjin caught Jimin looking at him, and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Jimin frowned at him.
“There, all set!” announced Jungkook. “I’d keep it elevated for the rest of the night, and take it easy tomorrow, but you should be good.”
“Thank you,” said Jimin. “We were about to order dinner; would you stay and eat with us? Feeding you is the least I can do.” In the face of Jungkook’s immediate modest protest, Jimin continued, “No, you’re not getting out of it this time! Please stay.” He made the face that sold very expensive, very uncomfortable shoes to women who should have known better; of course Jungkook couldn’t resist it.
“I guess I can, if it’s no trouble,” he said. “But I need to leave by 9; I’m working overnight tonight.”
Taehyung and Jungkook got Jimin arranged comfortably on the couch while Seokjin called in the food order, and soon they were all slurping noodles. Jungkook was a bit shy at first, as Seokjin asked him polite questions about his family and schooling. When they reached the military service section of Jungkook’s history, it turned out he and Seokjin had both served in the 27th Division, and although their times in service had been several years apart they’d actually had the same sergeant. The company in-jokes flew, and Seokjin asked Jungkook to call him hyung, and suddenly they were all much more comfortable, as Jungkook relaxed into a clearly defined role in the group.
When Jungkook left, after a final check that the butterfly bandage was holding the wound tightly closed, and an admonition to get that tetanus shot, there was a brief silence. Then Seokjin said, “Well, he’s adorable. He’s like a puppy. You’d better not break his heart.”
“I would never!” said Jimin.
“You never mean to…,” began Taehyung, and then yelped as Jimin smacked him. “Hey, stop it, no wrestling, you’ll start bleeding all over the place if you aren’t careful.”
“Let’s invite him next time we go for lamb skewers at that little place - he said they’re his favorite,” said Seokjin.
“Oh, so you’re in favor of our Jiminie corrupting this handsome, innocent youth?” asked Taehyung.
“Well, he does need someone to look after him…” said Seokjin, and leaned back out of reach of Jimin’s swatting hand.
**
Jimin came rushing out into the lobby and saw Jungkook right away. He was dressed in his normal style - giant puffer coat, hideous sneakers, bucket hat - but looked completely out of place in his surroundings, and the stiffness with which he stood suggested he knew it.
“Jungkook-ssi!” he called, as he hurried across the polished stone floor. “I’m so sorry I made you wait. It’s always so hard to get away. Seokjin-hyung is coming; Taehyung might be a few minutes, because he’s helping someone, and they let people stay after we officially close if it looks like they’re going to buy something.”
Jungkook’s eyes stayed wide, but some of the tension eased from his posture, and he flicked a little glance towards the haughty security guard, who pointedly ignored him. Jimin caught the look, and said, easily, “Oh, was he giving you a hard time? They’re supposed to, you know. They don’t mean it personally. Moonbok-hyung there is actually super nice. It’s his job to terrify people who look like they don’t belong here. It’s part of our brand.” Jimin rolled his eyes lightly, to show how seriously he took it. Moonbok, who was close enough to have heard, winked, deadpan, and Jungkook laughed.
“Is it cold out?” asked Jimin, wrapping a red scarf around his neck, and then buttoning his double-breasted, military-style coat.
“Yes, coldest day so far. Winter is really coming on,” said Jungkook. Seokjin came up just then and greeted them both, looking dashing in a classic camel-hair polo coat, and swept them out the door, saying Taehyung would join them when he could get away.
It was only a couple of blocks on foot before they arrived at a surprisingly modest-looking eatery, tucked on a side street, full and noisy. Seokjin had donned a furry toque, but Jimin was hatless, and his ears were already red as they entered the restaurant and hung their coats on a communal rack. “Whoo, you weren’t kidding,” he said, warming them with his hands. “We need drinks fast, so I can warm up!”
They settled on two sides of an oblong table, Seokjin and Jungkook facing Jimin, with a chair left empty for Taehyung. Seokjin greeted the server politely but with the friendliness of a regular. The greeting was returned with a warmth that suggested their party was known to eat and drink well, and tip just as well. Seokjin ordered for the table, and soon the first round of skewers were sizzling over the grill, and a side dish of marinated eggplant had arrived, and he was explaining how the seasoning was done to Jungkook.
By the time Taehyung joined them, they were already two bottles of soju down, and Jimin was impressed with Jungkook’s drinking manners. He and Seokjin were both accomplished drinkers and he was happy to see that Jungkook was going to be comfortable keeping up with them. Taehyung slid into the folding chair next to Jimin and scooted close for a cuddle, rubbing his hands together and then holding them over the grill to warm. “I thought he’d never leave! He couldn’t decide which sweater to buy, and he went back and forth forever, but eventually he decided to get both, so I win!”
“Good work,” said Seokjin, and high-fived him across the table.
“You know, you guys really seem like regular people, not, like, fancy snobby salespeople,” said Jungkook.
“Oh, we can be snobs with the best of them,” said Taehyung.
“I am very snobby about shoes,” said Jimin. He leaned across the table and said, in a stage whisper, to Jungkook, “I hate your sneakers.”
Jungkook laughed, but there was an edge of nervousness to it, and so Jimin hurried to add, “I know they’re very stylish! Puma x BAPE, right? We have to know about streetwear; there’s a lot of high-low mixing in our customer base. I like you, I just hate your shoes.” He glanced down lovingly at his own feet, which were clad in sleek black calfskin boots with little cuban heels.
“I am also very snobby,” said Seokjin, looking pointedly at Jimin with his arms folded. “I am very snobby about people with terrible manners towards their guests.”
“We can act snobby,” said Taehyung, “Because some of our customers expect and even want that. It seems to be actually fun for them to come in and be bossed around and sneered at. I do a great sneer!” he said, pulling an expressive face. “But we’re actually normal guys. You should see how sweet Seokjin can be with an embarrassed teenager or an old-fashioned grandmother who has kids with new money forcing her to ‘start looking decent.’ And Jimin is super good at finding people shoes they love, even if he hates their style. And when we’re not at work, we’re, like, regular. I play Overwatch -”
“Oh, who do you main?” asked Jungkook, instantly alert.
“D. Va,” said Taehyung. “You?”
“I used to main Hanzo, but I’ve been playing Widowmaker for about six months now.”
“Oh, you must be fast. We should play!” said Taehyung.
“You should stop,” said Jimin. “You can set up a private date to talk about video games, if you must, but tonight is for fun and I refuse to be bored while you talk about that stuff for half an hour.”
Taehyung laughed, and said, “Okay, Mister Bossypants,” and Jimin flushed, but maintained his dignity and brought up a topic everyone could participate in: regional accents, and losing them when you moved to Seoul. He and Jungkook were soon in a contest to show who had the more manly Busan satoori. Jungkook’s whole body language changed when he dropped into dialect, and it was strangely attractive.
A couple of genial and well-stuffed hours later, Jimin got up to use the restroom. When he came back, he put a hand on the back of his chair as he started to sit down, and the chair folded itself up suddenly. Jimin was already too far gone to stop his descent, and ended up sitting on top of the folded chair, landing hard on his butt. Jimin had landed on his ass lots of times - Seokjin had a standing joke about the roundness of his butt being a gift since he needed the extra cushioning - but this time he struck his tailbone hard on some part of the wooden chair, and shock and pain resonated up his spine. He gasped for breath, and felt tears starting in his eyes.
Seokjin and Taehyung were laughing, but Jungkook was instantly on his feet, moving to help Jimin. “That looked painful. I think I heard the crack of you hitting the chair. That was your backside, right, and not your head?” he asked, crouching next to Jimin, who was still sprawled on top of the chair.
“Yeah, my head is fine,” said Jimin, and started to try to sit up, and said “Ow!” and flopped back down. “Oh my god,” he said. “Is it possible to break your ass?”
“Technically, yes,” said Jungkook, sliding an arm behind Jimin’s shoulder and raising his chest a little, “You can fracture your tailbone, and of course in a serious car accident people can break their whole pelvis. I’m going to put my arms around you and get you vertical, okay?” he said, and as Jimin nodded, he found himself bodily lifted until he could, with some pain, get his feet under him. Jungkook kept holding him as his head swam a little and he tried to feel steady standing. Taehyung and Seokjin had stopped laughing and were standing, too, and Taehyung hurried to help support Jimin as well.
“You okay?” asked Jungkook, close in Jimin’s face, and serious.
“It hurts,” said Jimin. “A lot.”
“We can take you to a clinic,” said Seokjin, getting out his phone. “I’m sure there’s one around here someplace. Or the hospital?” he asked, looking at Jungkook.
“If you’d like to have it checked out, I’ll go with you. My guess is there’s not much they can do besides tell you to rest and take painkillers. If it was broken, you’d be in so much pain you’d be unable to talk,” said Jungkook.
“Let’s just go home, then,” said Jimin. “I don’t want to spend time sitting around a clinic waiting room.”
“I’ll call a taxi, and settle up,” said Seokjin.
“Will you take him home and get him settled?” Taehyung asked, looking at Jungkook. “I live in a totally different direction.”
“Uh, don’t you want to take care of him?” asked Jungkook.
“I think he’s in much better hands with you, don’t you? And you live across the hall,” said Taehyung, looking at him quizzically.
Seokjin looked up and said, “He thinks you’re his boyfriend. The cab will be here in three minutes.”
“Ohhhh,” said Taehyung. “Of course, people think that all the time. But we’re just very cuddly best friends. We’ve been best friends since we were in high school,” he said. Jungkook was looking a little embarrassed, and Taehyung was the sort of guy to lean into that, so he winked outrageously and said, “Jimin is very single. I’m trusting you to thoroughly check out his ass and take good care of him tonight.” Jungkook closed his eyes briefly, bit his lip, and blushed hard.
“Taetae, quit it,” said Jimin, “And go get me my coat, damn it.”
Getting Jimin into the taxi was a bit of a production. In the end Jungkook had to say, “This is going to hurt, and the only way to do it is to push through it.” Jimin nodded, and grit his teeth, and groaned as he sat in the back of the cab. Jungkook clambered in after him, and together they got Jimin settled as comfortably as he could be, which meant he was half-lying across Jungkook’s lap.
“I’m sorry,” said Jimin, looking up into his face. “I’m sorry to be such a fool, and I’m sorry for my idiot best friend, and I promise after tonight I’ll leave you alone, since apparently every time I see you I’m going to injure myself in some completely stupid way.”
“Hey,” said Jungkook. “I’m not mad about any of this. I had a nice time tonight, and I’m really enjoying getting to you know you guys, and I’m sorry you’re hurt, but I don’t think you’re a fool. All the stuff that’s happened to you could have happened to anyone.” He smiled, a little sly. “Well, maybe not to anyone all within the span of a couple of weeks. Maybe Seokjin-hyung has a point about the bubble wrap.”
“He does,” Jimin moaned. “I really am a pretty graceful person, on a dance floor.”
“Maybe when your butt is better we can go out dancing. I actually really like to dance,” said Jungkook, a little diffidently.
“Like, to a club?” said Jimin. “You’re on. It may be a few weeks, though.”
At their building, the process of getting Jimin out of the taxi was, if anything, more tortuous than getting him into it. He was able to walk a little, but stopped in the entry at the foot of the stairs, looking wary. “I’ll carry you,” said Jungkook, grinning. “I think a fireman’s carry, this time - it’ll be easier on you.” He bent, and gently, but easily, scooped Jimin up over his shoulder.
“You’re very proud of yourself for being so good at picking me up like I weigh nothing at all,” said Jimin, pouting. Jungkook laughed delightedly.
Jungkook carried Jimin all the way into his bedroom and set him down on the bed. He was so gentle that Jimin glowed with warmth inside - or maybe that was just the throbbing of his sore tailbone. He settled Jimin lying on his back and ran out to his own apartment to get supplies. Jimin lay in a daze, thinking about how the pain was painful, but the feeling of being taken care of so tenderly and sweetly almost made the whole thing worth it. Then he frowned, remembering that this was Jungkook’s job, he was just being professional, he’d take this level of care of anyone, and Jimin was a clumsy jerk for making him have to take care of someone on an evening off.
Jungkook returned without his coat and sneakers, armed with his black bag full of medical supplies. “Okay, let’s get you into some comfortable clothes,” he said confidently, and then stood still for a second, before continuing, hesitantly, “Uh, I mean, Taehyung was right, you know, I do need to check out your, um, backside. I brought some salve that’s really good at minimizing bruising.” Was Jimin imagining it, or was Jungkook blushing as he helped him out of his coat, and tugged off his little black boots? He definitely caught Jungkook peeking as he unbuttoned his shirt and reached for the t-shirt he was handed, but Jungkook seemed to have recovered his professionalism by the time he lifted Jimin’s hips gently and eased down his dress slacks.
“Okay, let’s turn you over onto your front,” he said. “I’m going to touch your, uh, lower back, over your underclothes, just to make sure everything’s okay.” Jimin closed his eyes and tried not to tense as he felt the gentle probing of strong fingers. It did hurt, but in a sore way, not a stabbing way. “Okay, I don’t think it’s fractured,” said Jungkook. “Now, if you’re okay with it, I’d like to pull down your underpants so I can -” Jungkook broke off and gave a high, nervous giggle, “Rub some of this medicine on the, uh, area. It really helps.”
“Go ahead,” said Jimin, a little breathlessly, and he felt Jungkook’s hands, a little tentative, maybe even trembling at first, but then growing confident, as he massaged the salve in. It had some ingredient that made it feel warm on his skin, and Jimin finally relaxed fully as Jungkook’s hands moved up to massage the muscles of his lower back, for what seemed like endless minutes, and then, briefly but firmly, the tops of his buttocks. He heard Jungkook draw in a deep breath, and then felt the hands lift. He felt suddenly exhausted, and lay still as he heard rustling. Then he felt warmth envelop his whole body as Jungkook drew the duvet up over him.
“Thank you,” he said, soft and low, and Jungkook chuckled, and said, “Message me when you wake up,” and Jimin was asleep almost before Jungkook was out the door.
For the next week Jimin found he was fine as long as he was standing or lying down; sitting was painful, going up stairs was very painful, and going down stairs was excruciating. He cursed himself for living on the third floor of a building without an elevator, and seriously contemplated asking Jungkook to carry him down to the lobby one morning. Only his certain knowledge that Jungkook was actually at work - he was starting to know his schedule - prevented him.
The second week went rather better, and on Saturday he was able to teach his little students without too much wincing, although he definitely kept the demonstration of jumps to a minimum. They focused on graceful arms and hands instead. After his class he went across the city to the studio where Jungkook was a student, and observed the hip-hop practice, by invitation. Jungkook was encouraging him to join, and expand his repertoire, when he felt back up to 100%. The teacher was an astonishingly good dancer; Jimin couldn’t decide if he had no bones at all, or too many bones, like a snake. But even so, Jimin found himself watching Jungkook most of the time. His clothes were still baggy, but Jimin kept catching glimpses of what seemed to be a tiny waist, and trim hips, as his shirt bounced around. Jungkook moved freely, all loose and relaxed and funky-sexy, but his face was still fresh and boyish and innocent, and Jimin sighed, smitten.
Jungkook caught him looking, as the final routine ended, and Jimin blushed. Then Jungkook came over to say hello, all sweaty and grinning, and lifted his t-shirt to wipe his brow, and Jimin nearly passed out. He pulled himself together and was introduced to the teacher, who seemed to be the smiliest human on the planet, and they had a pleasant talk about dance styles and training, and Jimin was definitely going to start going to a class, once his butt was better.
By the end of the third week Jimin was feeling back to about 90% well: mobile enough that he made a plan to go out dancing with Jungkook. After work on Friday night he came home and started to get ready. He laid out an outfit on his bed - tight black jeans, his favorite boots, a t-shirt with cap sleeves, and a red leather jacket that looked thick and heavy, but was actually light and buttery-soft. He was going all out; tonight, if everything went all right, was the night that he was going to make his move. He and Jungkook were getting along very well, and if he waited much longer, he risked them falling into the sort of friendship that would stand in the way of romance. Plus Christmas was coming up quickly, and Jimin was really into the idea of having a boyfriend to be cozy with on the couple holiday.
Then in the shower he dropped a glob of hair conditioner, stepped on it, felt himself falling, grabbed for the built-in bar he kept his washcloth on, felt his fingers, also slippery with conditioner, fail to find a grip, and fell out of the shower, taking down the shower curtain and hitting his head on the toilet seat rim. He lay on the bathroom floor for nearly a full minute, dripping, naked, and dazed. He watched the shower continue to run, and then finally sat up, put his elbows on his knees, and laughed because he couldn’t cry. His head ached and his shoulder ached and his hip ached and he was concerned he might have broken a toe.
He slowly got himself up off the floor, and turned off the running water. He found a towel, and dried himself roughly - he still had conditioner in his hair - and leaned heavily on the sink, looking at his hazy reflection on the half-fogged mirror. Then he sighed, and limped out of the bathroom, leaving the ripped shower curtain and its scattered rings all over the floor. He found his phone in a jumble of things on the kitchen counter, and pulled up Jungkook’s contact. It was never going to work out. He was doomed to be the clumsy neighbor Jungkook had to patch up, nothing more.
Jiminieeeee
I’m going to have to cancel
Nurse Kookie
is everything ok?
is your back acting up?
Jiminieeeee
um
I
I just hurt my foot in the shower
There was a knock on Jimin’s door, and of course it was Jungkook, who said, “Let me have a look,” fairly urgently. Then he apparently noticed that Jimin was only wearing a towel wrapped around his waist and was still very damp, and froze, blinking, for a second. Then he remembered he wasn’t alone, and said, “Uh, this is my hyung, Min Yoongi, he was just stopping by,” and somehow they all ended up in Jimin’s apartment.
Jimin returned Min Yoongi’s polite greeting, but then watched as the man looked him up and down, and not in an appreciative way, but in a ‘what the hell is going on here’ way. His face was pretty blank, but there was a little twist on the corner of his mouth that suggested he was somehow suspicious of Jimin.
“Sit down; which foot is it?” asked Jungkook, and then Jimin was sitting on the couch with both hands holding the towel firmly in place, trying to preserve his modesty. Jungkook knelt in front of him and picked up his left foot - it was obvious which foot it was, because his second toe was already swollen, and a little bit, well, crooked. “I think you broke your toe, baby,” said Jungkook, ruefully. “We are definitely not going dancing.”
Jimin registered that Jungkook was already dressed for going out, and was was wearing jeans that hugged his very muscular thighs and very trim hips, as well as a button up shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, and he had a tattoo peeking out by one elbow, and he had to close his eyes for a minute. “How did this even happen?” asked Jungkook.
“I fell. I actually fell out of the shower,” said Jimin. Why was he such an idiot? This was going to be the night! Jungkook looked so good!
Yoongi was peering into the bathroom and taking in the destruction of the shower curtain. “Wow,” he said, quietly.
“Wait, did you hurt other parts of yourself?” asked Jungkook.
“I kind of... hit my head?” admitted Jimin. “On the toilet?”
Yoongi snorted, but Jungkook was immediately gently probing Jimin’s wet (and frankly, sticky with conditioner) hair with his fingers, and found the goose-egg that was already beginning to form. “Oh, wow,” he said. “You didn’t knock yourself out, did you?”
“I don’t think so,” said Jimin. “I was just sort of stunned for a minute, but I think it was surprise more than anything else.”
“Jimin-ssi!” cried Jungkook, in his comically deep Busan satoori tone. “What am I going to do with you? I think I should take you to the clinic this time. Hyung, come over here and have a look at this toe,” he called.
“I’m a radiology tech, not a human x-ray machine,” grumbled Yoongi, but he did come over and peer at Jimin’s foot.
“Yoongi-hyung works with me at the hospital,” explained Jungkook. “You see a lot of broken bones, though, right? I know for a toe the treatment is pretty simple, they just tape it, but I think somebody with actual experience should probably set it. You don’t want your toe permanently crooked.”
“Wow, I finally hurt myself in a way you can’t fix single-handedly,” said Jimin, glumly.
“This is a habit with you?” asked Yoongi.
“Yeah,” said Jungkook with a grin. “We met when he fell down the stairs and threw his shoe at me, and then there was the folding chair incident…”
“You forgot the broken glass,” sighed Jimin.
“So, he’s basically Namjoon, but he breaks himself,” said Yoongi.
Jungkook laughed. “Luckily he has me to take care of him. Now, can you walk okay?” he asked, rising and offering Jimin his hand to get up off the couch. “I think you should rinse that goo out of your hair, and go get dressed. I’ll carry you down the stairs and we can take a taxi to a clinic, and afterwards hyung can take us both out for lamb skewers, to my favorite place.”
**
On Wednesday night Jimin hobbled across the hall - at the clinic they’d given him a plastic boot to protect his toe from further bumps as it healed - and knocked on Jungkook’s door. They’d started watching a new weekly drama, The Untamed, a sort of fantasy mystery story set in a magical Joseon era, with two leads who were fate-crossed soulmates. It turned out Jungkook was a romance junkie, which Jimin found endearing as hell.
“Can you just enter the code?” Jimin heard Jungkook call weakly from inside. He did, and opened the door to find his neighbor prostrate on the sofa in sweats and a tee shirt, barely able to raise his head.
“Oh my god,” Jimin said, as he rushed across the room and bent over him. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
“I was doing some parkour, with some friends, this afternoon, and, uh, my shoe came off, and I fell,” said Jungkook, all sheepish but also lethargic.
“Oh no!” cried Jimin. “I knew those shoes were evil. Do I need to take you to a clinic?”
“No, I got myself patched up, with Yugyeom’s help, but I just feel… pitiful,” Jungkook said, flopping even more, if that were possible.
Jimin looked down at him and his heart warmed. He was sorry that Jungkook was hurt, of course, but he could finally be the one who got to be the caretaker! And Jimin was very, very good at taking good care of people who needed it. “Poor baby!” he soothed. “You look pitiful. I will cook you up some egg juk to make you feel better; I know my mother’s recipe by heart.” He perched on the edge of the seat cushion and went to brush Jungkook’s bangs off his forehead, revealing a butterflied cut above his right eyebrow.
Jungkook winced, and said, “Don’t touch me! It hurts!”
“Oh, baby, where doesn’t it hurt?” asked Jimin. His heart was melting; Jungkook was usually so happy-go-lucky, and it was sad but also adorable to see him all grumpy.
Jungkook pouted, and held out his bent arm, which had scrapes across the front. “Here,” he said forcefully, pointing his elbow at Jimin.
Jimin’s eyes got knowing, and he took the elbow gently in one hand, and said “Okay,” and smiled, and bent his head to drop a light kiss on it. Then he drew back and looked at Jungkook expectantly, with a dare in his eyes. “Where else?”
Jungkook’s eyes widened. He took a deep indrawn breath through his nose, and said, “Here,” more gently, and pointed to where his shoulder met his neck, bared by the collar of the baggy tee shirt.
Jimin bent his head, and pressed a kiss to the muscle there, more slowly than before, darting his tongue forward to touch Jungkook’s skin for just a brief second before pulling back.
Jungkook shivered, his whole body quaking.
“Where else, baby?” asked Jimin, huskily.
Jungkook’s mouth fell a little open, and he was breathing in and out through it now, his chest rising and falling visibly, as he slowly moved to put his index finger on the middle of his lower lip, pulling it down. “Here?” he said, very quietly, almost a whisper.
Jimin smiled, and leaned in, and hesitated for just a final second before closing the distance. Jungkook was wearing vanilla-flavored lip balm, and his lips were soft, and he was letting Jimin lead the kiss. After a little while Jimin pulled back a tiny bit, just as an experiment, and Jungkook made a little whimper and chased his mouth, eyes closed, and Jimin smiled and kissed him again, deeper this time. After a little while longer Jimin went to settle his hand at Jungkook’s waist, and Jungkook made another whimper, but this time it was in pain, and he grabbed Jimin’s wrist and held his hand away.
“No,” he said, “That hurts. I scraped up my whole torso; it’s all raw.”
“How did you do that?”
“I sort of slid down a brick wall on my stomach.”
“You dumbass,” said Jimin, fondly. “I guess I shouldn’t kiss you any more. It would be taking advantage of your weakened state,” he said, looking coyly at Jungkook.
“I mean, I’m not that weakened,” said Jungkook, his eyes wide and faux-innocent.
“Nope! You need to heal, and getting all heated up and flustered is probably not good for you. I think we should watch this show,” said Jimin, fishing for the remote on the floor. “Look, we’ve already missed the first five minutes,” he said, as he lifted Jungkook’s head gently so he could slide under it and let him rest in his lap. “Let’s watch, and then maybe just a little more kissing after I feed you some juk and before I put you to bed.”
“Could you maybe take advantage of my weakened state tomorrow?” asked Jungkook, hopefully.
Jimin just smiled smugly, but he watched the whole episode holding Jungkook’s hand and playing gently with his hair, satisfied that he’d finally overcome the fate that was separating them - just in time for Christmas.