Work Text:
When Jimin sailed into work that morning almost half an hour late, Yoongi was waiting for him, wearing a giant coat and a disgruntled expression on his face.
“Sorry, boss.” Jimin murmured guiltily, accepting the cup of what had probably originally been hot tea Yoongi held out to him as they shuffled inside. “Overslept.”
Yoongi stared at the assignment board impassively as he replied, shrugging his coat off and leaving it where it fell on the floor. “S’fine. I’m not exactly ever in a big hurry to get started, am I?”
He wasn’t wrong. Out of everyone Jimin knew at work, Yoongi was the most uninspired cupid he’d ever met. He didn’t even believe in love. How could I?, he always said with a wizened smirk. How could I, when I know better, because I’m the one shooting the arrows behind the scenes. It’s all a crock of shit. Jimin knew he was right on some level, but he still believed. He knew the system spit out names, two at a time, based on a wide array of factors, but unlike Yoongi, Jimin believed in fate that transcended their technology. Cupids themselves hardly ever fell in love. But Jimin was in love. And he had to believe.
He snapped himself out of his thoughts at the sound of Yoongi tapping an old, out of use arrow on the board. “Who’ve we got today...let’s get the small jobs out of the way first, I had a long night and I’m waiting for this sixth cup of coffee to kick in.” Jimin nodded dutifully. “Sure, boss.”
While Yoongi catnapped in his chair in the corner, Jimin set everything up. When cupids first became a thing, thousands and thousands of years ago, they just sort of hung out on clouds and haphazardly shot at people they thought looked good together with bows and arrows and it was all very chaotic and strange. Since then, however, the profession had made technological leaps that still boggled Jimin’s mind sometimes.
He’d been born into this, his father was a cupid, and his grandfather, and on and on and on. He’d always known it was what he would do with his life, and he’d been happy about it, mostly. Apart from the whole unrequited love thing, that is.
Yoongi, on the other hand, was an astoundingly unwilling cupid.
He was never supposed to be here, something that he took every opportunity to remind Jimin of. He could have been one of the greats. One of the big ones, instead of a peon working for them. Yoongi was studying to work in the meteorological center, hoping to one day get to control natural disasters and storms and wreak his own special brand of havoc on the planet. Nicely. He would do it nicely, he swore insistently.
But one thunderbolt shot in the wrong direction, and he’d been stripped of his scholarship and placed here, to suffer an eternity of Park Jimin’s dazzling smiles and unfailing optimism.
Here, to listen to those bell-like giggles every morning before he was even fully awake, doomed to spend his life analyzing the number of crinkles in Park Jimin’s eyesmile.
Yoongi didn’t believe in love. He didn’t believe in anything. But some days, if you caught him at the right moment, he’d admit that the way Jimin’s hair flopped over his forehead gave him a certain amount of generalized faith in Life Itself.
He woke up to Jimin’s featherlight slaps to his shoulder. “Ready, boss.” Yoongi made a show of grumbling and bitching and being the pain in the ass he knew he came off as, launching himself off the chair with all the speed of molasses and ambling across the room to the control center. Jimin stood patiently, hands behind his back. All their assignments were lined up for the day, in order of difficulty.
Numbers one through one thousand were simple. Children making friends, pets finding new homes, that sort of thing. Jimin and Yoongi took turns targeting and aiming and firing, and they blew through the top part of the list in a few hours.
The arrows weren’t real anymore. They never had been “real”, per se, but they used to actually at least look like arrows. Long ago, those magic arrows had soared through the sky, invisible to human eyes, grazing their targets with ease. It felt like a kiss when it hit you, like the tingling that starts in your toes when you see someone for the first time, someone you know you’ll never forget.
These days, their interface was like one giant video game. Jimin and Yoongi each held plastic guns pointed at the huge screens in front of them, one part of the equation for each of them, and fired simultaneously when the moment was right. They would wait and wait, wait until Person A was crossing the street and Person B (Dog B, sometimes) was rounding the corner, and they’d shoot together, watching as B crashed into A, dazed from the arrow, and A crashed into B’s heart, and then they learned the ABC’s of L-O-V-E.
“Jimin, if you say that fucking line one more time, I’m going to shoot you for real.”
Jimin giggled, sitting back on the leather couch he occupied a small corner of. Yoongi sat next to him, but as far away as possible, and Jimin wished he would move closer. That he would care. He studied Yoongi fondly out of the corner of his eye. For someone so painfully grumpy, Yoongi was so beautiful it hurt. His features were delicate, pretty in the oddest way. Sometimes, Jimin just stared at him while he took his frequent naps on duty, stared until he felt like a creeper and turned away, blushing.
He really could have done worse as far as being assigned a partner, though. Sure, Yoongi hated his job and his life and basically everything around him. But then, he brought Jimin his tea every morning. He texted Jimin every night to make sure he’d eaten dinner, and sometimes just to say hi. He was always doing little things for Jimin that he never did for anyone else. Jimin never brought most of them up. He was afraid if he did, they would stop.
Jimin had been so lost in thought that he didn’t notice Yoongi scooting closer to him, until their shoulders were almost touching, and Jimin forgot how to breathe. He peeked over in Yoongi’s direction, but his partner seemed completely unaffected, aiming the controller at the screen to pull up job number 1,001.
I am way too close. Too close to the muscular thighs of Park Jimin. Why did I do this? Am I THAT much of a masochist? Shit, he smells really good. He smells like...fresh baked bread. Vanilla. Honey. I can’t go back to my corner of the couch now, it’ll be too obvious. Just be cool, Yoongi. This is fine.
He prayed Jimin didn’t notice the way his hands shook when they handed him the controller.
Jimin swallowed hard and let his eyes skim over the information for their next assignment. “Well, this should be pretty easy.” he said after a minute, willing his voice to lower to something resembling a normal pitch. He read further, and his heart skipped a beat.
“Friends for years...coworkers...secretly in love with each other...both too scared to do anything about it…” Welp.
Yoongi cleared his throat and sat up a bit, nodding. “Says here they both get a break around the same time, but Kim Namjoon spends his lunch break on the roof of the office building listening to music, while Kim Seokjin sits in his car, watching cooking videos on YouTube. So how can we get them in the same place?”
Jimin clicked a box on the screen, maximizing it. “Kim Namjoon has a spare key to Kim Seokjin’s car on his key ring, because of one time three years ago when Seokjin locked himself out at work and Namjoon insisted that someone needed to have one. Namjoon didn’t know that he was the only one Seokjin trusted enough.” Yoongi tried not to think about how Jimin was the only person he’d ever trusted. He pressed a few buttons, and it was all set up. Now they just had to wait out the countdown.
Six minutes, thirty-four seconds until Kim Seokjin’s lunch break.
Yoongi tossed the controller onto the couch next to him, feeling every bit of the awkward silence that was stretching over them. Something was different today. Off. He couldn’t figure out what.
“Oh. By the way.” Jimin’s voice was soft, and Yoongi turned to face him, feeling the blush he was sure Jimin could see on his cheeks. Jimin didn’t mention it, just smiled and reached into the sleeve of his oversized sweater, pulling out a small box. “Happy Valentine’s Day, boss.”
Of course. Of course it is. Yoongi took the box carefully, frowning a little as he opened it quickly. “You know, you don’t have to call me boss, Jimin. It’s weir-- oh.” Yoongi stopped talking when he pulled the lid off the box. Inside, on a tiny bed of fluffy cotton, sat a single earring. It shone silver as the sunlight drifting through the large windows hit it, and Yoongi squinted to inspect it closer. It was in the shape of a heart, with an arrow slicing through it, and Yoongi would have hated it, except it was from Jimin. It was from Jimin, and he kind of loved everything Jimin did.
Y’know. If he believed in love.
Yoongi didn’t say anything at first, didn’t really know what to say. He and Jimin had been partners for two years, but they’d never exchanged gifts of any kind. He was pretty sure Jimin didn’t even know his real birthday, because he’d given him fake dates two years in a row (Aptember 14rd, Junuary 27nd), specificially to avoid awkward gifting situations just like this one. However, the only reason it was awkward now was because Yoongi just...couldn’t seem to say anything. Couldn’t find any words to explain how this made him feel.
The longer the silence went on, the more nervous Jimin got. His leg jiggled impatiently under him, short fingers picking at a string unraveling itself from his sweater. Finally, he broke the quiet. “You don’t like it. It’s fine if you don’t like it, I understand. It was stupid, anyway. I’m sorry, wow, this is super unprofessional of me. Let me just...I’ll take it back. It’s okay. Just--”
“Jimin.”
“What.”
“Shut up.”
It was one of the worst first kisses Jimin had ever seen, and in this line of work, he’d seen a lot. He’d seen teeth gnashing together, bloodshed, concussions, and spontaneous indigestion. When Yoongi’s lips crashed into his, it felt impulsive, not thought out, very unlike Yoongi. It surprised Jimin so much that he squeaked and tried to pull away, but Yoongi yanked him forward by his sweater and when he finally realized it wasn’t a dream, Jimin melted so much that he got the giggles.
It was a mess. It was one of the worst first kisses either of them had ever seen, but it was theirs, so it was perfect.
“Countdown to Meeting. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven.”
Jimin and Yoongi shot back in opposite directions from each other when the countdown started. Yoongi lunged across the couch and grabbed the controller, hastily pushing buttons and focusing the camera so they could watch and make sure everything went right, like they were supposed to be doing. Jimin sat very still next to him, one hand pressed to his lips and his eyes wide. He glanced at Yoongi as covertly as possible when every move he made, every action felt ten times bigger than it usually did.
Yoongi was staring at the screen, and to anyone else, he would have looked mostly unruffled. But Jimin knew him better than anyone, and he saw everything. Saw the breaths bouncing around his chest faster than usual, the way his lips were swollen from the kiss. The slightly panicked glaze over his eyes. Jimin tried not to giggle again, turning his attention to the job.
*
Kim Seokjin was very, very frustrated.
He’d had a long, hard morning, and all he wanted to do was sit in his car and eat some EZ Cheez straight from the can and watch his YouTube subscription feed.
He stared in the driver’s side window of his car, horrified. He was positive he’d had his keys in his pocket when he walked into the office this morning. And yet, there they were, sitting in the middle of the car seat, taunting him in their shiny unattainability. Jin rested his head on his arm against the car briefly, trying to decide what to do. He stepped back and looked around, looking up and down and side to side. He would have given up, if he hadn’t seen a familiar figure pacing around on the roof.
Jin took the stairs to the top of the building two at a time, hoping like hell Namjoon still even had his key. He didn’t have to. There hadn’t been any agreements made.
When he burst out onto the roof a minute later, Namjoon whirled around, shock written all over his face. Jin stopped for a moment. He tried to avoid Namjoon a lot, lately. Now he remembered why. Namjoon was handsome in a strange way that shouldn’t have worked, but it did. Basically everything Namjoon did worked for Jin, including that time he set the microwave in the break room on fire trying to cook a baked potato. That was adorable.
“Jin. Hey.” Namjoon pulled the earbud out of one ear, looking at him expectantly.
Oh. Right.
“Hey. Um. Do you still have my spare car key?”
Namjoon stuck his hand in his pocket, closed his fist around said key.
“Oh. Wow. Man, I’m pretty sure I do, but it’s at home.” Namjoon watched Jin’s face fall, and he sat down right there on the ground. Just tell him you have it. This spontaneous plan is not worth him possibly crying.
Namjoon crossed over to where Jin had ended up in four steps, crouching next to where he sat with his head in his hands. “Hey, what’s wrong? You okay, man?” he asked, wishing he was better at comforting.
God, he smells good. What is that? It smells expensive. Armani, maybe? Shit. I wonder if he wears designer everything. Designer shoes, designer shirts, designer briefs…
Namjoon shook his head to clear that thought out. Jin hadn’t answered him yet, but Namjoon had one arm around his shoulder and Jin was practically curling into his touch, and he felt so good and so warm that Namjoon didn’t really care how long the reply took.
“I hate Valentine’s Day.” Jin sniffled out, finally. Namjoon frowned. Was that today? Huh. Guess so. Amazing how hard you can ignore something if you really want to, until you convince yourself it doesn’t even exist.
“Me too.” he said. “Corporate-ass holiday. You know Hallmark just made that shit up to get more money, right?”
(Jimin could practically see the small, futile rage coming off Yoongi’s body. “Yoongi. Sit down.” he ordered, catching his partner by the hand. “You can’t put an actual arrow through someone’s head just because they don’t like Valentine’s Day.” Yoongi huffed in annoyance, but obeyed, plopping down next to Jimin with his arms crossed. “Fuck I can’t.” he muttered, even as he was letting Jimin pull him closer and kind of going gooey with happiness all over again.)
Jin sighed. “I got dumped last Valentine’s Day.” Namjoon swallowed. “Yeah, I remember.” Jin looked up, an expression of faint surprise on his handsome face. “You do?”
Namjoon tried to act as casual as he could. “Yeah, uh, I mean...I remember you being upset and you were wearing that pink shirt because of Valentine’s Day and I stalled the big boss when she wanted to drag you into a meeting so you could go pull yourself together in the bathroom.” VERY CASUAL. NICELY DONE.
Jin let out a sound that was somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “That was you?” Namjoon just nodded. He was not allowing himself to speak until further notice. Who even knew what kind of shit he’d come up with next?
“Thanks.” Jin said after a while, his voice softer. Namjoon sighed, giving up on his grand plan to invite Jin over to his house under the pretense of looking for his key after work.
“Look, Jin, I have your key. It’s in my pocket. I was going to use finding it as an excuse to ask you to come over after we get out of here, because I really like you and I really want to hang out with you and watch a movie or make out or something, maybe both, but I can’t seem to turn on my fucking filter today so now I’m just saying all these things and you probably think I’m nuts. Which, I mean. Accurate.” Namjoon had to clamp a hand over his mouth to stop talking.
(“You’re awful.” Yoongi panted between snickers, swatting at Jimin lazily while his partner was doubled over, wheezing with laughter as he replied. “I’m sorry! I just like to lean into the Babble Button sometimes…”)
Jin stared at him for too long, and Namjoon briefly contemplated just running away. Literally. Running. Anything to save Jin from the trainwreck he currently was.
He wouldn’t have gotten far.
Suddenly, Jin’s lips were on his, their cheeks brushing together and blushing together, and Namjoon’s head was swimming. “You’re such an idiot.” Jin breathed out when they finally parted. “You could have just asked me out a long time ago.” Namjoon chased him back into another kiss. “I wanted to.” he admitted. “I’ve wanted to forever.” Jin was smiling now, and so was he. Namjoon felt Jin’s hand traveling down his side, and he stiffened. Jin really didn’t seem like the type to be into excessive PDA, and yet his hand went further, brushing across the front of Namjoon’s work slacks and then...into his pocket.
Jin extracted Namjoon’s keys easily, making sure his spare was hanging from the ring. He stood as Namjoon gaped at him and did the same. A mischievous smile crossed Jin’s face. “If you want your keys back, meet me in the parking lot after work.” he singsonged, and Namjoon was completely overwhelmed, because he didn’t think he’d ever seen Jin this happy, and he was pretty sure he was the one who had made it happen, and that meant he had to keep making it happen if he wanted to see it again, and wow, that was a lot of responsibility, and…
God, Jin’s lips were soft. “You’re thinking too much.” Jin whispered as he pulled away. Namjoon gulped, nodding. Out of words, finally. Thankfully.
“See you tonight.” Jin called over his shoulder, as he walked away with Namjoon’s keys and his heart.
*
Jimin and Yoongi only made it to 1,002 before they cut out of the office early. It was Valentine’s Day, Yoongi reasoned. Love was in the air, and it didn’t need the extra help. Probably. Maybe.
Mostly, he just wanted to take Park Jimin out on a date.