Work Text:
// chimes
Jungkook is mixing warm syrup into tea when he sees him, and hears bells.
(“You’re such a hopeless romantic,” Seokjin sighs when Jungkook retells the story later. “The bells are literally attached to the door. You hear them whenever anyone comes in.”
“This was different, hyung,” Jungkook says, nearly spilling the drink he’s pouring as he turns his head to look at Seokjin. “They sounded just like the bells from Your Name. The way it rang out; the soft, slow melody of the notes—”
Seokjin tsks at Jungkook and lightly swats at the back of his head.
“You’re ridiculous,” Seokjin says. “Finish making the drink, the customer’s waiting. I don’t want to hear another ‘can I speak to your manager’ and a five-minute rant because of your daydreaming. All over bubble tea, at that.”)
Jungkook finishes preparing the order he’s working on and rushes to the cash register, the man already waiting there with his gaze fixed onto the menu placed on the counter.
“Hi, what can I get for you?” If Jungkook’s voice sounds the slightest bit higher, he pays it no mind.
“Can I just have an iced Americano, please?” the guy mumbles, hand shuffling around his bag. Jungkook blinks in surprise. They’re in a bubble tea shop; it’s not usual that someone comes in ordering something off their coffee menu.
The man pulls his wallet out and they make eye contact for the first time as he hands over his card. Their gazes hold, and Jungkook’s breath falters as he takes in the man’s soft yet sharp features. He’s devastatingly handsome — silver in his ears, a smudge of shadow on his eyelids. Jungkook feels like someone’s just body slammed him into the ground.
But more than that, more than the angles of his eyes and the smooth slopes of his face, there’s—
“Blue,” Jungkook blurts, instead of the robotic of course sir, is that all you’d like for today. “Your hair… it’s blue.”
The guy raises his eyebrows, and Jungkook mentally throws himself into a void.
“Very observant,” he replies, not unkindly but definitely amused.
“I’m sorry, I just— it looks really nice. On you.”
Silence falls between the two of them. Jungkook is considering driving out after work to find a literal void he can throw himself into until a genuine smile spreads across the guy’s face, gums showing.
“Thank you,” he says softly, casting his gaze downwards, and Jungkook’s heart twists. He probably would’ve stared at the guy all day, finding new details about his face to keep to memory, but then the man lifts his head up again.
“So, about my drink—”
“Ah! Of course,” Jungkook fumbles with the buttons on the kiosk, messing up twice before finally entering the correct information. He hands the credit card back, telling the man his order number and expecting the interaction to end there. But instead he lingers for a bit, simply looking at Jungkook.
“For the record,” he says, the slightest quirk to his lips, “I think your hair looks nice, too.”
“...Oh.” Jungkook blinks, hand automatically coming up to touch at his hair. He hadn’t done anything special to it today, had he? At this point in his shift, it probably looks more disheveled than put together. Did he even have time to shower yesterday?
He gets so into analyzing how his hair could seem remotely attractive that he only notices that the guy is gone after he’s walking away. You didn’t say thank you, Jungkook realizes. He nearly trips over himself to lean across the counter, body twisting towards the direction the guy’s walking.
“Thank you!” he calls out, a little breathless from pressing his torso against the counter so harshly. The man spins around, a look of soft surprise on his face. Then, his eyes curl up as he smiles, the softest of pinks blooming across his face, and—
Jungkook thinks he might be breathless for more than one reason.
// repeat
“Mr. Americano is back,” Jungkook hears Seokjin whisper not-so-subtly. “Go get your supposed soulmate. Seduce him with your endless charm.”
Jungkook looks up, and the man from before is indeed standing at the cash register again. His hair is still the same shade of pale blue, makeup still prettily done, and Jungkook ignores the way his heart leaps. He makes his way to the front and forcefully elbows Seokjin for his comment as he passes by him.
Seokjin clutches his side, bending over in mock pain. “You wound me. I’m mortally injured, Jungkook-ah!” He grimaces dramatically for a couple more seconds before suddenly straightening back up with a yell, his thumbs and pointer fingers crossed to shoot hearts at Jungkook.
“Please ignore him,” Jungkook deadpans to the guy, though he’s chuckling a little at Seokjin’s antics. His laugh sounds scratchy but soft, kind of like Jungkook’s favorite knit sweater. It wraps around him the same way, warm and comforting.
He orders the same drink — a large Americano — and Jungkook’s hand moves on autopilot, pressing all the right buttons this time. It allows him to observe the man more today, and his eyes catch on what’s hanging around his neck.
“Oh, a camera,” Jungkook says without thinking, making the guy look up at him in curiosity. Jungkook quickly adds: “Ah, I like photography, too. I don’t really… know anybody else that’s into it.”
The man’s cheeks lift with a smile, and Jungkook’s mouth goes dry. Jesus, how is it possible he looks even better than how Jungkook remembered him?
(Not that Jungkook’s thought about him ever since that first day they saw each other. Not at all.)
“Honestly, me either,” he says, fingers absentmindedly tracing over the camera. “I’ve always liked it, but I’ve only recently started to really get back into it.”
“What do you usually like shooting?” Jungkook asks.
They talk photography for a little bit, Jungkook insatiably curious, until another customer walks in and Jungkook has to take their order. He suppresses a small sigh; it’s impossible to properly get to know someone while he’s working.
“Hey,” the guy calls out to him before he walks away. “I’m Yoongi, by the way.”
Oh. Jungkook swallows past the sudden lump in his throat, heart fluttering.
“Jungkook.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Jungkook-ssi.”
Jungkook nods back with a shy smile, and thinks: you too, yoongi-ssi.
// simple
It’s a breath of fresh air, Yoongi’s order.
After Jungkook has spent hours listening to customers rattle off exactly how much ice they want and specific sugar percentages in their already ridiculously complicated drinks, the quiet, “Just an Americano, please,” feels so easy. That, paired with the upwards pull of his lips and soft light dancing across his eyes makes Jungkook’s heart spin in loops. Makes him want to say: tell me more, i want to hear more, i want to know everything about you.
// question
“I’m curious about something.”
Yoongi raises his eyebrows questioningly as he takes back his credit card, slipping it into his wallet.
“This is a bubble tea shop,” Jungkook says matter-of-factly, and Yoongi simply blinks back at him.
“Yes,” he says slowly. “Glad you know your place of occupation.”
Jungkook laughs a little, but carries on: “This is a bubble tea shop, so why do you always just get coffee here?”
Yoongi blinks at him, then loudly clears his throat.
“Well, a friend recommended this place to me,” he says, suddenly avoiding Jungkook’s gaze and scratching the back of his neck. “I’m not really a sweets person though, so… I just get my regular coffee.”
“If any of our customers heard you say that they’d accuse you of cardinal sin,” Jungkook says, amused. “The amount of times I’ve had people order drinks with 150 percent sugar is… frankly concerning.”
Yoongi visibly gags, and Jungkook has to stifle a laugh.
“Sorry to every patron of this establishment,” Yoongi sniffs, “but I just don’t particularly enjoy drinking liquid sugar that barely qualifies as coffee or tea.”
“I didn’t realize we had a connoisseur of beverages present,” Jungkook says, amused. “A pretentious one at that, one might even say.”
“Don’t come for me just because you add extra sugar to your drinks,” Yoongi fires back, and Jungkook gasps in exaggerated offense.
“It’s good,” Jungkook says, leaning over the counter. “Someone who enjoys plain bean water like you wouldn’t know it.”
They bicker for a few minutes until someone behind Yoongi clears their throat, and he sheepishly moves out of the way so Jungkook can take their order.
“In this industry, there’s no time for talking,” Jungkook says to Yoongi as he waits for the customer’s payment to process.
“My sincerest apologies. I didn’t realize your time was so precious, master barista,” Yoongi laughs, and Jungkook can’t help but grin back.
Unfortunately, that statement becomes reality mere seconds later when a sudden rush of customers comes through the door. Jungkook shoots Yoongi an apologetic look as the other shakes his head no problem, motioning towards the door and mouthing that he has to get going. Jungkook gives him one last smile before he leaves and gets back to explaining to the customer that yes, the bubbles come separately, yes, you have to pay for them.
And it’s only after Jungkook has clocked out for the night, muscles aching and clothes stained with tea, that he wonders how Yoongi knew he likes his drinks sweet.
// habit
Jungkook has lost count of how many times Yoongi’s stopped by in the past few weeks. With each visit, Jungkook finds something new to notice about him.
This time, it’s his hands.
It’s how they come up and scratch at the back of his neck as they talk, pinky sticking out. It’s a tell, Jungkook knows, but he hasn’t figured out what for yet.
It’s how they’re always adorned by a ring or two, simple yet impactful. It matches the small necklaces he wears, or the piercings in his ears. They glint in the sunlight and catch Jungkook’s attention, make him think pretty pretty pretty.
Jungkook has always thought you could tell a lot about a person from their hands. On Yoongi, he sees stark ink staining his fingers — quick smudges indicating racing thoughts, stacked on top of each other like pressed petals. He sees dedication in the calluses of his fingertips, nervousness in the rough edges of his nails. There’s a couple of tiny cuts and scars scattered over his hand; maybe attempts at cooking or fixing things. Each feature makes Jungkook want to hold them, run his own fingers across every detail, learn how its weight rests in his own hands.
// pink
“Yoongi-hyung,” Jungkook says softly, pressing gently at Yoongi’s wrist until he stirs a bit. Slowly, Yoongi lifts his head from the table, eyes bleary and a stray tuft of hair sticking out wildly. He looks vaguely confused, as if he’s wondering why he’s still seated at the café this late at night.
“We’re closing soon, hyung. You should probably pack up.”
Jungkook watches in fascination as the prettiest of pinks spread across Yoongi’s cheeks, seemingly in slow-motion. Jungkook swallows hard, pretending like he doesn’t feel the same type of warmth growing in his chest.
“I… didn’t even realize I fell asleep. Sorry if I was in the way of you guys closing up,” Yoongi mumbles, blinking the sleep out of his eyes, lips sticking out. Jungkook is endeared.
“No, no, don’t worry about it,” he says, his heart a mess.
Yoongi shifts his elbow, knocking some of his pens off the table. He and Jungkook move at the same time, both their arms shooting out to grab them. The pens land in Jungkook’s palm, followed immediately by Yoongi’s fingers that fall right into the empty spaces between Jungkook’s.
Jungkook’s stomach flips violently, and he feels his face go scarlet. They both blink at their intertwined hands for a second before breaking apart, suddenly hyper-aware of their proximity to each other. Jungkook drops the pens onto the table. The clattering sounds are jarring in the quiet around them.
“Good reflexes,” Yoongi murmurs, gathering the pens into his bag.
“Thanks,” Jungkook stutters, suddenly unable to speak louder than a whisper.
Yoongi finishes packing up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He makes his way towards the door, glancing backwards with a smile and a quiet,
“See you, Jungkook-ah.”
Jungkook manages a smile back, heartbeat thrumming.
“Good night, hyung.”
Jungkook feels Seokjin eyeing him as he walks back behind the counter, and he pointedly avoids his gaze.
“What’s this I sense?” Seokjin says, overly dramatic. “Romance in the air? In my shop?”
“Please stop,” Jungkook says.
“I’m taking credit for this,” Seokjin declares, pointing a washed ladle at him. Water drops fly off of it onto Jungkook’s face, making him flinch. Seokjin ignores this and carries on: “You met in my shop, therefore I created this for you two. I formed this bond, this fate. I am God incarnate!”
“We’re not even anything right now, what the hell.” Jungkook wipes the droplets off his cheek. “Don’t get so excited.”
“So there is something between you two!” Seokjin exclaims delightfully, and Jungkook sighs in exasperation. “Just you wait. I’m never wrong about these things.”
Seokjin hums confidently as he finishes washing the dishes, and Jungkook’s head hangs as he groans.
// song
“You have a nice voice.”
Jungkook whirls around, meeting Yoongi’s eyes at the cash register. He hadn’t even heard anyone walk up to the counter, leaving him no time to react properly to Yoongi’s comment.
“Oh,” he replies eloquently, heat under his skin. “...Thank you.”
The corner of Yoongi’s lips pull upwards, and all of Jungkook’s breath escapes him at once.
He could do anything, Jungkook realizes, suddenly. And I’d still find him pretty.
“You should sing more often,” Yoongi comments casually, and Jungkook nearly chokes on air. “It’s nice to listen to.”
“Ah, I’m… kinda nervous about singing in public, honestly,” Jungkook scratches his head, fingers twitching. “Usually I only do it if nobody’s here.”
Yoongi hums, lips pursing.
“I guess I’m lucky, then,” he says, voice lilting. “that I got to hear it.”
Jungkook resists the urge to press his hands against his cheeks, as if that’d stop the warmth from spreading across his face.
“I guess you are,” Jungkook mumbles back, feet shifting as their eyes stay fixed on each other.
There’s a beat of silence between them, charged. Jungkook feels the urge to say something, do something to break the atmosphere, when—
“Are you going to take my order?” Yoongi asks, his tone still light. Jungkook almost sighs in relief at the topic change. The air was beginning to feel too heavy, too electric. This, at least, is something he’s comfortable with.
“Do I need to?” Jungkook shoots back with a grin, making his way over to the counter. “You always order the same thing anyways — a large Americano.”
Yoongi tilts his head, light dancing across his eyes.
“That I do,” he replies. “I didn’t realize I was that memorable of a customer.”
“You’re the only one that doesn’t order a diabetes-inducing drink.” Jungkook scoffs. He’s about to continue talking when he sees a large group of friends push through the door, and he deflates a little.
“God, this place is annoyingly popular,” Yoongi mumbles as he sees the crowd approaching them.
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Jungkook sighs, already dreading the next hour.
“I’ll find time to talk to you properly one day, I swear,” Yoongi says as the first customer walks up to the register, and Jungkook’s stomach twists pleasantly. “Maybe I’ll get to hear you sing more then, too.”
Jungkook’s cheeks flare, heart flipping, and he spends the rest of his shift trying to keep himself from smiling too hard.
// home
Seokjin jokes that Jungkook picks up so many shifts that he practically lives at the café, the tea and coffee scent seeming to permanently stick onto his clothes. Honestly, Jungkook doesn’t mind — he likes his job so much that he’s actually begun to associate the aromas to home: warm and fragrant and inviting.
A similar scent follows Yoongi around; dark-roasted coffee but with an added hint of lavender and fresh laundry. Jungkook, to his own surprise, realizes that he finds the combination more comforting than the one he’s surrounded by all day.
Realizes that he’s starting to associate home not with a place, but with a person.
// recommendation
“Thank you, your order number’s fifty-two.” Jungkook smiles at the customer, albeit tiredly.
The line has been out the door for two hours now, and Jungkook’s brain is slowly disintegrating. He breathes a sigh of relief at the empty space in front of the register, rolling his head and shoulders to stretch his sore muscles. He helps his coworkers make drinks for a while, quickly washing the shaker cups and stacking them up. He’s dusting powdered sugar over some pastries that are on their snack menu when, suddenly, he hears a knock on the countertop near the register.
Jungkook sighs softly, barely feeling like he’s gotten any rest between customers.
“One minute, please!” he calls out, finishing off the pastries before making his way over.
Jungkook taps on the kiosk to start a new order, looking up to ask what he can get for them when—
“Oh, Yoongi-hyung.”
He smiles at Jungkook, faded blue strands falling into his eyes.
“You sound surprised to see me.”
“I… am,” Jungkook says, fatigue rendering his brain-to-mouth filter useless. Jungkook remedies: “I mean, you usually don’t come on Saturdays.”
“I don’t, but… I had some schedule changes,” Yoongi hums, looking at the menu.
“Well, it’s nice to see you,” Jungkook replies, starting to grab a large cup from the stack on the side, expecting Yoongi to order the same as always.
He sees Yoongi look at him from the corner of his vision, eyes running across his face.
“Pretty,” Yoongi says, almost inaudible. A jolt goes through Jungkook and his heart trips, stumbles.
“The… pastries, I mean,” Yoongi says hurriedly, eyes darting to the side where they’re located. “They look pretty.”
“—Right,” Jungkook manages to choke out, before he says something embarrassing like so are you. “Thank you. I just made them.”
There’s a few seconds of quiet, and Jungkook’s fingers tap nervously on the cup he’s holding.
“Did you… do you just want your regular drink?” he asks, finding it hard to talk loudly for some reason.
“Ah, actually, I’m—” Yoongi’s gaze shifts downwards, scratching at his neck. “I’m looking to try something new.”
“Oh,” Jungkook says. “Well… most of these other drinks are pretty sweet even with reduced sugar, so I don’t think you’d like them. Do you want anything in particular?”
“Sweet is okay,” Yoongi mumbles. Jungkook frowns slightly, recalling all the moments Yoongi’s mourned the tragedy of people drinking liquid sugar. “Just… what would you usually get?”
“Me?” Jungkook says, lips pursing in confusion. “I… like the winter melon milk green tea, but I’ve been getting peach iced tea with jellies lately too. They’re both really sweet though, I don’t think you’d—”
“Let me have the peach drink then, along with my regular order.” Yoongi fumbles with his wallet, nearly dropping it.
Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow, trying to figure out why Yoongi’s acting so weird, why he’s suddenly getting two drinks (a sweet one at that), until—
Oh, Jungkook realizes, heart sinking. He’s probably here with someone.
Right. Right, that makes sense. He’d never mentioned dating anyone, but he also never mentioned being single.
“Yeah, sure.” Jungkook taps the options on the screen with muscle memory, thoughts whirling through his head. Yoongi pays and gives him one last quirk of his mouth, and Jungkook manages a crooked smile back. He moves to the waiting area, not staying by the counter to talk, and the strings of Jungkook’s heart tug sadly.
This is weird. Why is he being weird? Jungkook shakes his head, tries to pull himself out of it. You’re an adult, he thinks to himself as he measures out the peach syrup. So Yoongi’s not available, so what, it was just a meaningless crush anyways.
Jungkook stares at the machines rapidly shaking the drinks, strangely identifying with the intense speed that they’re moving at. His chest currently feels like that, all rattled and messy.
He fumbles with the cups as he pours the drinks out, nearly dropping them into the sink. Seokjin materializes next to him from out of the kitchen, eyebrow raised.
“You good, Kook-ah?” he asks, hand brushing hesitantly over Jungkook’s shoulder.
“Yeah,” Jungkook says, carrying the cups to be sealed. “Just tired.”
Seokjin doesn’t look convinced, forehead creasing even more in worry.
“Jungkook—”
“We just finished lunch rush,” Jungkook replies, not looking at Seokjin and mindlessly wiping down the now-ready drinks. “It was pretty rough today, so I’m just tired. Really.”
Seokjin doesn’t say anything in reply, and if he makes a face, Jungkook doesn’t see it. He walks over to the pick-up area and leans over the counter.
“Hyung,” Jungkook calls, instead of the number on the cup. “Your drinks are ready.”
Yoongi looks up and rushes over to the counter, almost tripping over his own feet. Jungkook stifles a laugh.
This must be a first date, Jungkook thinks to himself, pushing down any extraneous feelings that come with the thought. I’ve never seen him so nervous.
Yoongi’s face is flushed a pretty red by the time he’s in front of Jungkook, at odds with the cool tones of his hair. Jungkook pushes the drinks across the counter, quietly thinking that he looks cute when he’s nervous. That whoever he’s out with is lucky.
“Thanks,” Yoongi says. He shifts on his feet, hands on his drinks, and… stands there. Doesn’t move. Jungkook’s eyes narrow in mild amusement.
“Are you—”
“Um—”
They both stop talking, and a layer of awkwardness settles around them.
“Uh… You first,” Jungkook says.
“Oh, I just— Well.” Yoongi’s fingers twitch around his drinks, and a confused smile makes its way onto Jungkook’s face. Suddenly, Yoongi lifts the peach iced tea and shoves it towards Jungkook. He flinches, then just stares as Yoongi holds the drink out at him.
“You… this is for you,” Yoongi says, so softly Jungkook can barely hear him.
“…Oh.” Jungkook takes the cup, still looking at Yoongi in confusion.
Yoongi doesn’t say anything, eyes fixed on the counter, and Jungkook chuckles nervously.
“Hyung, I get free drinks during my shift,” he says slowly. “You didn’t have to—”
“I know,” Yoongi cuts him off abruptly, face seeming to turn pinker by the second. “I know, but I wanted to, I—”
Jungkook hears a choking sound behind him and glances back to see Seokjin, whose expression seems caught between wild frustration and immense glee.
Jungkook blinks.
Clearly he’s missing something, here.
“Fuck, this went a lot more smoothly in my head.”
Jungkook turns back to Yoongi, looking like he’s projecting right out of his body. He’s biting his lip, fingers scratching endlessly at a phantom itch behind his ear, and—
Slowly, suddenly, it clicks.
“God, this is so awkward,” Yoongi grumbles, and Jungkook can hardly believe what’s happening. His heart thumps against his ribcage, echoing. He… needs to hear it; he needs to hear Yoongi say—
“Look, I know you’re literally working right now, but. If you’re free anytime soon, if you’d want to, we could… maybe hang out?” Hope lights up Yoongi’s eyes.
Jungkook tries to push down the grin tugging his lips upwards (he’s extremely unsuccessful). His heart hammers, warmth surrounding him inside and out.
“I—”
Suddenly, Seokjin sticks his head next to Jungkook’s as he’s on his way to the back.
“Jungkook’s break is in ten minutes,” he informs Yoongi as Jungkook splutters at him, then he promptly disappears into the kitchen.
“Sounds like you’ll be free sooner than I thought,” Yoongi says, still rubbing his neck. “Do you…?”
“Yes,” Jungkook says breathlessly. “Yeah, I’d love to.” Yoongi breaks into a devastating smile.
Jungkook takes a few more orders and measures out ingredients until his break, thoughts foggy and dazed. He has to dodge Seokjin’s constant elbowing and painfully conspicuous eyebrow raises the entire time.
“Remember to use protection,” Seokjin whispers as Jungkook starts to walk over to where Yoongi is.
“What the hell, hyung,” Jungkook hisses back as Seokjin just laughs squeakily.
Thankfully, Yoongi’s sitting at a table in the far corner of the café, so it doesn’t seem like he heard Seokjin. He looks up from his phone when he hears the chair in front of him move, and a smile immediately lifts his features.
“So,” Yoongi says casually, at odds with the grin on his face. “Finally found time to talk to you, hm?”
“I guess you did,” Jungkook replies, his chest feeling like it’s going to burst.
So Jungkook talks to Yoongi, laughs with him, and ends up spending his entire break with him.
(Ends up spending much, much longer with him, too.)