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5.
They’re in the middle of promotions of N.O when Taehyung disappears into the dressing room at MuBank and a couch quite literally turns up out of nowhere.
“Where’s Taehyung?” Seokjin says. He takes a seat on the - is that leopard print? Jimin squints- couch, lounging back to rest his neck.
“I think-” Jungkook starts. He cocks his head, thinking so hard Jimin sees him physically squint in pain. “I think you’re sitting on him.”
“That’s ridiculous, again?” Seokjin replies, but he takes a look down at where his butt is perched. As if on cue, the couch lets out a little Taehyung-esque squeal and Jimin just stares. To his surprise, no one says anything and Yoongi even yawns as they settle down sleepily one by one.
Maybe this has happened before, Jimin thinks numbly as Hoseok pulls him over to take a seat as well. Maybe this is why they hid Taehyung from the public eye for so long before it was finally time to debut, although if he really breaks it down- there are plenty of reasons for BigHit to do so considering all the damage control they’ve done in the past few months, and that was all before Jimin realized Taehyung’s inherent power to transform into random pieces of furniture faster than the six of them could persuade him to turn back.
The couch is plush, miles more comfortable than Taehyung who is all bones and jarring angles pushing up against Jimin’s body when he sits on him. Jimin tucks his legs in, suddenly falling back when Taehyung, the person, crumbles onto the ground ungracefully under the weight of the six of them.
Jimin gapes at him.
He’s fully dressed, thank god, and his stage make-up is still perfectly in place.
“What did I miss?” he asks sheepishly, crushed underneath a pile of tired bodies when the stage director yells at them to get back on standby for their rehearsal stage and Jimin lines up obediently with his mouth zipped up tight.
4.
It’s a true testament to their friendship that Jimin walked in on Taehyung last Wednesday bent over the side of the wall pretending to be a lamppost and thought nothing of it until Taehyung somehow actually became a desk lamp...as of roughly 20 minutes ago.
“You really need to stop,” he says to the new and rather shiny red lamp tucked into the folds of Taehyung’s blankets. It’s metallic head faces a manga book Taehyung had left out earlier, tilted upwards like Taehyung had anticipated his transformation and was determined to sneak in one last chapter of One Piece to read as a lamp. Jimin opens his mouth to complain some more before he catches himself.
He’s trying to talk to a lamp, Taehyung or not.
The neck of the lamp gleams, a sleek silver that Jimin wraps around his fingers around to bring Taehyung out onto the dining table and notify the rest of the group, in particular Namjoon, not to roughhouse with it. The action also doubles as a kind of public shaming although, Jimin thinks as he sets Taehyung down nonchalantly on top of their dining table, somehow he doubts it’ll be effective at all on someone like Taehyung.
“There you go,” Jimin says, adjusting the lamp’s neck up so that the opening of the lamp head could at least get a good view of their TV. “Are you happy?”
There’s no reply.
Of course not. Taehyung’s a lamp for god’s sake.
3.
Taehyung develops a hacking cough, the kind that makes it sound like he’s dying or at least swimming through gallons of mucus each day, the week after they get back from Thailand.
The first night they get home, Jimin sleeps with his pillow pulled over his head. Somehow by morning, he wakes up with his head actually stuffed inside the pillowcase. He sits up yawning in wonder at how he managed to not suffocate himself in the dead of night.
By the second night, Jungkook moves out into the dining room, or specifically under the dining table, to shield himself from the sound of Taehyung’s body wracking coughs.
(Jimin frankly doesn’t know what he’s complaining about- what with Namjoon and Jungkook snoring loud enough to wake the dead on most normal nights.)
The next night, no one says anything when Yoongi walks out of the dorm near midnight, threatening to take up permanent residence in their studio. Jimin personally wouldn’t mind living there himself, but the dead, steely fire in Yoongi’s eyes suggests that no one else is invited.
In the end, they compromise by moving Yoongi out into the living room and shifting Jungkook back.
(“I was here first!” Jungkook complains loudly as they drag his mattress back in. “Yeah, yeah, who cares,” Yoongi retorts, sleepy grin on his face as he passes out with ear plugs jammed in. Jungkook draws a penis and quite possibly the most intricate neckbeard he’s ever seen on Yoongi’s comatose form before retreating angrily into his room.)
On the fourth night, Jimin has the best sleep he’s had in ages because sometime between dinner and the next morning, Taehyung has done them the most gracious favor possible by becoming a wall.
He’s technically not quite a wall, more like a hunk of plaster that blocks off half the hallway from floor to ceiling. Jimin gets the honor of noticing Taehyung’s new form first when he runs head first into him on the way to the bathroom still groggy from sleep. His lip smashes against the chalky texture, wincing as the wall remains solidly in place.
“What the hell? Taehyung?” he croaks out weakly, wondering what it says about him that his concern for Taehyung’s inanimate well-being is able to override his massive urge to pee. “Is that you?”
The wall doesn’t answer, go figure, but Jimin still feels oddly anxious.
It’s a good thing BigHit is a thrifty company and that their dorm has remained relatively devoid of new furniture over the years. Jimin knows everything in the dorm by heart which makes it easy to tell when something (or rather a certain someone) doesn’t belong in the bathroom or up above the kitchen counter.
It’s also nice when Taehyung makes really obvious, like right now, but by now just the idea of a fire sale sends Jimin’s stomach lurching in anxiety. The idea of a furniture store, even worse. (Jimin wouldn’t put it past Taehyung to pull some shit like transforming into a hammer in an aisle of handy tools, leaving the six of them to parse him out from his hundreds of kindred hammers.)
He brushes a hand up the wall, watching in wonder as the wall shifts underneath his fingertips.
Jimin stares at it, eyes wide as the wall coughs weakly.
“Stand back,” Namjoon calls from behind him, early morning still thick in his voice. Jimin jumps. He has no idea how long Namjoon’s been standing there.
“Hey hyung,” he says. There’s no proper way to word this. “I think Taehyung is a wall.”
“I’ve noticed,” Namjoon says, running a hand alongside Jimin’s. The wall shivers again and Namjoon gives it a stare as it coughs again and Taehyung as a human emerges from the layers of gypsum and wet sandy mixture to collapse onto the floor.
“You look kind of plastered,” Yoongi says, voice dry from the other end of the hall. He’s got dark circles under his eyes, the effect entirely racoonish coupled with his mussy dark hair. “Thanks hyung.” Taehyung coughs back. He spits out a little chunk of plaster and it lands on Jimin’s foot- wet and grossly warm. Taehyung looks feverish, blinking rapidly as Jimin pulls him up.
“Thanks man,” Taehyung gurgles, sounding even more congested than before. Jimin lets him lean into him and nuzzle his powder white cheek against his neck.
“You’ve been watching too much anime,” Seokjin says pointedly. He brushes a bit of plaster off Taehyung’s shoulder, grimacing when his fingers come away wet.
“Go take a shower,” Namjoon orders, nose wrinkling. “On second thought, don’t do that you’ll clog the drain.”
Taehyung gives him a shaky nod, dripping plaster onto the wood floor below. He walks into the shower and turns it on full blast anyways. No one is surprised three hours later when Namjoon breaks down the door to the bathroom to find the water up to his knees and Taehyung in the form of a bowling ball sized rubber duck.
2.
On the day they fly back from Japan, Taehyung decidedly becomes a piece of brick- a small ragged chunk, worn down enough to fit in the palm of Jimin’s hand.
When Jimin was younger, he taught his brother how to skip stones across the small creek behind their apartment complex. Jimin never liked throwing the shiny stones he painstakingly picked out from the bottom of the creek because there was always a certain and rather cruel irony that there was no way to discern which rocks were lucky from the average pile before it sailed out of your hand- gone forever.
The weight of Taehyung hanging in his pocket feels a little like that, only this time around the rock in his pocket is no shinier than the average slab of brick and Jimin wouldn’t throw him out across the narrowest creek even if Taehyung could sail across the ocean.
There’s a certain luck that Jimin’s not ready to ever let go of even when the security officer gives him a very long and scathing look when he empties his pockets for the security scan.
“Is this yours?” the officer asks, picking Taehyung up with a suspicious look in his eyes. Jimin’s not stupid, he knows what it looks like.
“Umm,” Jimin starts, trying to verbally sort out something that doesn’t involve- “oh hey that’s my lucky piece of brick that also happens to be my same-aged bandmate. Please put him back down, he’s fragile and gets his feelings hurt easily and dear god please don’t break him open to check if I’m smuggling drugs inside him.”
“It’s lucky,” Jimin explains earnestly. There’s no lie there. Kim Taehyung is the luckiest thing that's happened in Park Jimin’s life give or take a few furniture shenanigans. The security officer stares at him for a long moment before he passes Taehyung, safe and sound, back into Jimin’s hands with a shrug.
“You’re not even remotely useful this time,” Jimin complains quietly to the brick Taehyung in his hand. The brick unsurprisingly says nothing back, although Jimin can feel it practically humming against his palm as he tucks Taehyung back into his pocket and shuffles towards their departure gate.
The process to get onto the plane goes fairly smooth, although he gets asked repeatedly to store Taehyung into an overhead compartment for the interest of public safety.
It turns out brick shards can be used as weapons. (“What can’t you kill someone with these days?” Yoongi states bluntly, eliciting a scandalized gasp from around them.)
The flight attendant looks half in mind to call security on them when Jimin shoves Taehyung into the overhead compartment and silently hopes that Taehyung doesn’t decide to fall out, butt-naked mid-flight.
On second thought, he thinks- seeing Yoongi grumpily dumps his bags under his seat directly beneath the compartment- it might be worth the laugh, and maybe even the loss of sleep they’d have to spend on smuggling Taehyung out of customs again.
1.
Jungkook is doing his homework on Taehyung the table when he turns back, half-dressed and horny. Jungkook lets out a hilarious squeak like he’d forgotten that the table he was using wasn’t a real table at all, go figure.
Jimin watches, wishing he had popcorn with him, as Jungkook scrambles to his feet, his face beet red, and runs back into his room. Taehyung is still on the floor, looking dazed as Jimin throws his hoodie off the couch for him
“You know, this superpower of yours is really pretty lame,” Jimin says as Taehyung pulls the hoodie past his shoulders. It’s a good fit. Jimin likes wearing either loose clothes or no clothes. Taehyung looks good in either.
“It is so not lame,” Taehyung crows. He rubs the small of his back with a cheeky wince. “I have great power. I’m just a little lacking on the responsibility side.”
Jimin rolls his eyes. Taehyung tugs on his arm, latching on like a baby koala. "C'mon. There's a ton of benefits to being friends with someone as awesome as me with powers as awesome as mine." He holds up a finger. "Think of how useful I can be! I'm a portable bed, table, whatever you want."
Jimin folds his arms, decidedly unimpressed. "You never turn into anything useful though, much less useful for me."
Taehyung has the audacity to look offended. "I am so useful," he splutters. Jimin raises a brow as the grin on Taehyung's face grows devilishly bright.
“I mean think about it. We could have really awesome table sex,” Taehyung points out. Jimin smashes his palm into his forehead.
“I’m not going to hump you if you’re a table,” Jimin replies, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. He pauses. "I'm not going to hump you, period."
"Liar," Taehyung counters, but he shrugs. “Ok, fine, but just think about all the pole dancing routines you could pull off.”
“I don’t even pole dance,” Jimin protests. Taehyung takes that into serious consideration for all of five seconds. “True, but you should.”
He shoves Taehyung away from him with a playful push.
“Just think about it,” Taehyung grins, teeth shiny. He block Jimin off from the other side, leaning in close. "Besides you love me, even when I'm made of plastic."
"Sure thing," Jimin echoes, scooting away until his back hits the wall. Taehyung's eyes are serious.
"I'm still me you know," he says quietly and Jimin stiffens. "I'm still me all the times I'm around in your pocket or when you pick me up to put me on a table. Even when you kissed me as a wall."
"Taehyung," Jimin says plainly. His hand reaches up to brush against his lips, remembering the taste of chalky plaster. "That wasn't a kiss."
"It felt like one," Taehyung says and that's all Jimin needs to hear before he closes the gap between them. This time, Taehyung’s lips are soft, surprisingly wet, but what makes Jimin flush all the way to his roots is the small puff of laughter that hits his teeth when Taehyung pulls back looking pleased- his lips a pouty pink.
“It feels the same to me,” Taehyung says, eyes soft. Jimin watches him lick his lips thoughtfully. "You feel just as good as last time."
"God you are so weird," Jimin mutters, but it's useless covering the adoration in his voice. Taehyung grins, smile bursting at the seams. “You just gotta promise not to cheat on me with any of my other furniture friends.”
“Furniture friends,” Jimin repeats hollowly.
“Yeah,” Taehyung nods solemnly. “Just give me a heads up or something. Like if you ever want me to fuck you on a table, it’ll be like having a threesome.”
“Nothing about you surprises me anymore,” Jimin sighs. Taehyung quirks a brow at him. “Oh really?”
He plants a wet kiss on the side of Jimin's neck and Jimin lets out a squeak, not unlike Jungkook's from a little earlier (maybe even a little higher).
“Surprised yet?” Taehyung says, a wicked smile on his face.
Nothing about Taehyung will ever cease to amaze Jimin and if he's frank, the most surprising bits about Taehyung have absolutely nothing to do with his propensity to become furniture. Taehyung could be a perfectly normal, average human being (maybe not normal, Jimin will settle for passably reasonable since it's Taehyung) and Jimin would still find himself hopelessly enamored, attention nailed to the frame of his skinny body and the wire sharp edge of his too bright smile. Jimin steels himself, pressing forward to up the ante when Taehyung suddenly lurches forward, knocking Jimin onto the ground in the form of a light lilac beanbag.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jimin whines, helpless laughter squeezed out of him as the beanbag crumples down to fit into all the spaces around him like a cozy, resigned hug.