Work Text:
☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎
Jimin had a schedule, not one he made himself (Hoseok made it) but one that he definitely had to stick to, if he wanted to, you know, continue breathing.
Things his schedule allowed for: 1 hour in the morning to get up and go through his extensive stretching and skincare routine, 20 minutes of dilly-dallying on his phone (read: lurking on social media and swiping left on the gay and bisexual men within his set radius), another 30 minutes for commuting to the office (accounting for weekday traffic and any accidents that may delay Jimin by a few minutes or make him have to veer off course) and a 20 minute break to grab a coffee between the dance classes that he teaches at the local studio with his business partner Hoseok.
Things his schedule did not account for: the fact that Jimin is a walking, talking disaster waiting to happen. He is a magnet for almost any kind of accident, attracting injuries and misfortunes wherever he goes. This morning for example? Jimin’s alarm didn’t go off, and he was woken up abruptly by his neighbor knocking on the door (a little too loudly in Jimin’s humble opinion) and asking for eggs, really? at 8 in the morning on a tuesday? in this economy? that led to a very flustered Jimin, hair sticking up in weird angles, handing over all of the eggs he had left, which coincidentally, he would only remember were going to be his breakfast after he plugged his dead phone into the charger, stumbling his way into the shower, washing his hair and brushing his teeth at the same time, floundering out and rushing through his skincare and hair routine, cursing himself internally for staying up to binge watch Lovely Runner, his eyes still puffy even after moisturising and applying eye patches under his eyes.
A quick glance at his phone told him that he was already 45 minutes behind schedule, a migraine already forming at the idea of the thorough scolding that he was in for as soon as he reached the studio, already running through a mental checklist of all of the things he was going to need to buy and groveling he was going to have to do to make it out of the proverbial dog house (Hoseok might not be his romantic partner, but he was definitely a work spouse) on his way out of the house, ordering an uber, Jimin failed to see that he didn’t change the location for his favorite coffee shop, one that’s a little further away from the studio (read: 30 minutes in the opposite direction of the studio from his apartment) it wasn’t a spot that he would usually go to midweek, much less midmorning in the middle of the week.
By the time Jimin noticed his mistake, he was already halfway there, 1 hour behind schedule, what could another 45 minutes do at this point, right? Jimin was planning on picking up breakfast and a coffee for Hoseok anyway, what was that saying? Hitting two birds with one stone? The blond haired man settled into his seat, ignoring Hoseok’s frantic texts, taking advantage of the extra 15 minutes to go on his favorite dating app, resolving to respond as soon as he had his fresh coffee and baked goods in hand, a bribe that he was praying would work – gods knew he needed it.
☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎
The moment Jimin stepped into the shop, he was greeted with the rich, earthy aroma of his favorite coffee. Plants and books littered the shop, placed in a way that seemed haphazard, but anyone with a passing interest in interior design could see just how detailed everything was, how the placement of every single potted plant and book was almost luring café-goers in further, almost as if the rich coffee smell could come to life and beckon them forward.
Jimin closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel everything around him for a few seconds, allowing the scent and sounds of the coffee shop and its customers to ground him — he’d never admitted this to anyone before, but this place held something magical . The shop made even Jimin’s toughest days, ones where he was feeling down and like nothing could make him feel better, seem tolerable. If only the coffee shop were a human, Jimin would sometimes think to himself, then he’d definitely ask it out on a date.
Scoffing lightly at the thought, the dancer stepped further into the shop, practically gliding over to the cashier, not a care in the world other than the delicious, warm beverage that was sure to fix his sour morning, and the delicious baked good that would accompany it (oh yeah — and a snack for Hoseok, he remembered as his phone vibrated against his leg for the hundredth time since he pocketed it.)
Though he would never admit it, in all of Jimin’s 29 years of life (he looks younger than that so who cares what his age actually is), he never thought that his clumsy, accident prone self, would cause an accident so excessively embarrassing that it would make him hope and pray to the gods above that the ground could suddenly become a sentient being and swallow him whole.
Not until Park Jimin, who was wearing a grin from ear to ear after ordering his favorite snacks, and had just barely wrapped his dainty fingers around the to-go cup of his piping hot toffee nut latte, heard a crash coming from somewhere nearby and turned to see someone wearing dungarees (?) crouched on the ground trying to clean up a mess of broken mug parts and coffee spilt everywhere. Jimin hadn’t had the best of luck that day, and thought maybe a random act of kindness would set this karmic wrong of a day right. He took his coffee in one hand and napkins in the other, sidestepping over to the stranger on the ground, crouching down to help make the clean up faster. It seemed, however, that the universe was intent on not helping Jimin at all that day, the ballerino’s balance betraying him — as he squatted down, he tipped over a little too much, and in his hastiness to right himself, spilt his scorching hot latte all over himself.
It played out in slow motion before his eyes, almost as if he were living an out of body experience, the way he flailed around in the air trying desperately to gain any semblance of stability that would sadly, never come. His shoulder collided with something hard and sturdy, a wall maybe? That’s weird, Jimin was sure that there were no walls anywhere near where he was. Even if he lost his balance, he knew that his feet were still (semi)firmly planted on the ground, which only left…
He had less than a few seconds to analyze the situation though, because the next thing he knew, he felt something exceedingly hot soak through his clothed arm, right before hearing the telltale CLASH! of his own cup on the ground, adding to the mess at his (and the stranger’s) feet.
“Fuck! That fucking hurt!” The blond dancer looked at the arm of his long-sleeved shirt, now drenched in coffee.
“Shit! I’m so sorry! Oh, I’m such a clutz, Yoongi-hyung was right.”
Jimin could feel the vibrations on his shoulder as the words were spoken in a low, husky grumble, the stranger’s voice seemed almost rough from disuse, a huff of breath somewhere near his ear sending a pleasant shiver down his spine as the rumbling continued, “I’ll never live this down.”
If Jimin were a betting man, which he wasn’t (well, unless he was betting against Hoseok, then he definitely was) he would bet that the stranger was pouting — cute.
Taking a deep breath, Jimin turned around, completely prepared to face his humiliating fate, he reasoned it would be fine, after all, he had no idea what this person looked like. He could be a minor for all he knew, or an old man — he groaned internally, that would probably make things even more embarrassing, the fact that he had come here to help and spilt his coffee all over himself (maybe even gotten some on the elderly man as well), there would be a special spot reserved for him in hell, not that he didn’t want it, but securing it like this just felt really stupid compared to all of the stuff he could have done —
Jimin was so lost in his inner turmoil that when he turned and found someone that was definitely not elderly, or a minor (thank god!!) his brain to mouth filter stopped working and — wow. that’s a chest — realizing what he’d just done, he slapped a hand over his mouth, the same hand that had just been burnt by piping hot coffee. he registered the discomfort too late, a pained squeak leaving his lips before he could stop it.
The stranger seemed to react to that, interrupting his own slew of apologies and deprecating monologue to guide Jimin away from the pick-up counter, speaking to him in placating, whispering tones that the younger couldn’t focus on over the throbbing pain in his arm.
He let the man lead him to a corner table that was luckily deserted, for once thankful that he hadn’t moved his hand from its position over his mouth, even as the man placed his large, warm palm on the small of Jimin’s back because, yeah, he definitely couldn’t think about that right now. The stranger pulled out a chair and gently pressed Jimin down to take a seat. Oh. he was a gentleman.
The man took his hand away from where it had been on Jimin’s back and the blond had to bite his lip to keep from asking a complete stranger to please keep his hand there — it felt weirdly… comforting.
It wasn’t until the stranger sat down that Jimin got a good look at his face. Guys, gals, and non-binary pals, Jimin found himself an absolutely beautiful specimen. He had gorgeous caramel skin, dragon-like eyes that Jimin could get lost in, a pretty button nose and a soft smile that made Jimin’s heart skip a beat, all of that and…was that — dimples?!
Wide-eyed and in a state of shock (Jimin might have been drooling a tiny bit) which was also coincidentally when he noticed that he was still holding his hand over his mouth and wondered how he could possibly have fucked up this bad in front of arguably the cutest and hottest person that he’d seen in a while.
The man must have mistaken the look on the blond dancer’s face for one of panic, because he held his hands out in front of him, almost as if he were face to face with a cornered animal, and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline almost comically.
“Hey,” the stranger murmured, “I didn’t introduce myself earlier, I’m sorry about that. My name is Namjoon. I have some experience with this type of injury since I’m sort of a clumsy person as well.”
Jimin whined at the words before he could stop himself, embarrassed that the man — Namjoon, his brain supplied — had pointed his clumsiness out without even knowing his name, moving his hands up further to cover most of his face in horror at the situation, hoping that this would all be a bad dream that went away if he ignored it.
“Shit! Sorry, that’s not what I meant! I just, fuck I really suck at functioning when I haven’t had enough coffee in my system . Look, I just want to look at your arm? Please?”
Namjoon had taken to gesturing with his arms, hovering close to Jimin but without touching the dancer, the blond could make out the rapid movement from between his fingers, endeared by Namjoon’s dedication to helping a complete stranger that not only spilt his coffee, but acted like a complete weirdo to boot, only communicating with him through sounds.
It was so unlike Jimin, he was usually so in control of himself, even in cases when his body wasn’t cooperating with him, but he honestly felt like he had gotten out of bed on the wrong foot all morning, as if he were someone else for the day, and this was just the icing on the cake.
Embarrassed, but also resigned to his fate and the fact that Namjoon wouldn’t be going anywhere (and deep down Jimin didn’t really want him to), he took his hands off his face slowly, and the more Namjoon’s worried face came into view, the less he regretted his decision.
The brown haired man held his warm hands out to Jimin invitingly, and he felt himself almost scramble to comply, angling his body towards the man so quickly that he didn’t even notice he was moving out of his seat, losing his balance and falling face first toward the ground, arms going out instinctually to catch himself before he hit the ground.
“Jimin!”
The dancer saw a pair of strong arms come into his field of vision, grabbing him around the shoulders and effectively stopping him seconds before he hit the floor. Once Jimin was righted, and Namjoon was back at a safe distance from Jimin, he realized that Namjoon had called out his name, a name that he shouldn’t know. The confusion must have shown on Jimin’s face because the next thing he knew, Namjoon was almost visibly spluttering —
“I hope you don’t mind, I heard the barista call out your name earlier when, uh, well right before, you know.”
Namjoon, who was most likely older than Jimin, and was pulling off a pair of dungarees like no adult man Jimin had ever seen before, was blushing, the reddened tips of his ears peeking out through his brown locks and a gorgeous blush blooming on the apples of his cheeks.
Cute.
It was too endearing. Jimin had to hold himself back from reaching out and pinching the other man’s cheeks, biting his tongue so hard to prevent himself from doing something even more embarrassing like proposing marriage to a man he met (and proceeded to make a fool of himself in front of) no more than 20 minutes ago.
Maybe the silence that enveloped them should have felt awkward, and maybe it did a little bit, but there was also something electric in the air, a soothing thrum settling between them that made Jimin feel so warm and cozy that he almost forgot he hadn’t responded to Namjoon and was now just staring at the other man like a lovesick idiot biting back (and definitely not failing – hush ) the dopey grin on his face.
“Oh! That’s okay, Namjoon-ssi.” He thought about it for a moment, searching for any sign of discomfort on the other man’s face before deciding fuck it .
“Namjoon-hyung?”
Namjoon’s face blushed an even deeper shade of red if that was even possible. Fuck that’s cute.
“Thank you for saving me from hitting the ground, hyung.”
And Park Jimin had never fully grasped the concept of “blushing like a schoolgirl” quite as literally as he did at that moment, feeling his face heat up under the warm gaze of the dimpled man sitting across from him. He wanted to blame the blush on the embarrassment that stemmed from spilling his own coffee on himself and then almost falling out of his chair and to the ground in front of an objectively attractive man who also just so happened to be his type, but in reality the dancer knew that it was because he was attracted to Namjoon, maybe even on his way to developing a crush on the man.
“Ah, you’re welcome, Jimin-ah.”
Both men stared at each other, smiling softly at each other.
Namjoon cleared his throat, clearing the cozy haze that settled in Jimin’s mind, and for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed about the fact that he’d been caught staring at the dimpled man in front of him.
Smiling, Jimin realized that in any other situation, he would be wracking his brain for something to say, but this silence was comforting, almost like meeting an old, familiar friend. He felt warm all over, but there was a different sensation there as well, on his arm. Oh shit. Jimin had gotten burnt by scalding hot coffee. The surge of adrenaline brought on by his fall had faded away, and in its place was enough pain to bring Jimin out of his bubble.
“Oww, fuck! ” Jimin muttered, cradling his coffee stained arm against his chest reflexively, before quickly realizing his mistake, the wet fabric of his sleeve brushing against the injury in a way that made the dancer want to clench his teeth in pain.
It seemed like that was all it took for Namjoon to spring into action.
“Shit! Right!” the elder stood up abruptly, muttering curses to himself, seemingly looking off somewhere towards the back of the shop, doing an awkward impression of one of those inflatable costumes where an alien is kidnapping a child, his head still facing Jimin — wearing a somewhat panicked expression— while his body moved towards the back of the store.
Utterly confused and somewhat stunned, Jimin waited for Namjoon to return in silence, injured arm still held in his healthy hand — questions swimming around in his head.
Namjoon was only out of sight for a few minutes, whatever happened behind the wooden door marked “employees only” was muted by the hustle and bustle of a coffee shop on a busy midweek morning.
Jimin hardly had time to process everything that had happened when the door finally moved. Namjoon’s head popped out, a timid smile on the younger’s face, looking almost sheepish, waving something in his hand as he walked over to the table.
If the dancer hadn’t been too distracted by Namjoon’s cute smile and swoon worthy dimples to look down, he would have noticed that the elder was carrying a first aid kit almost triumphantly and — holy shit Jimin was going to marry this man.
“Look what I found!” Namjoon smiled, plopping himself down in the seat next to Jimin, setting the kit down on the table and opening it up carefully.
Jimin was still confused, his head tilting itself slightly of its own accord — is he allowed to go back there like that? How did he even find the first aid kit? he thought, watching Namjoon freeze in place for a second and the prettiest shade of pink color his already rosy cheeks.
“Ah…I probably should have mentioned this earlier, huh?” Namjoon chuckled self-effacingly, banging his hand on the bottom of the table, braving it with nothing but a silent wince, before bringing it up to rub at the back of his neck.
“Huh?”
Did Jimin say something out loud?
A giggle that had no business being that cute brought Jimin out of his thoughts.
“Yes, Jimin-ah, you did.”
Now it was Jimin that turned pink, internally groaning at the fact that his brain-to-mouth filter could fail him at such a critical time in front of such a hot stranger before he could work his wiles on the man.
“That’s okay, it’s cute.” Namjoon shrugged, “I am actually part owner of this café, alongside my partner Yoongi.” He explained with a full, dimpled smile on display, the corners of his eyes crinkling prettily.
Jimin raised an eyebrow questioningly at the words, his face falling at the clear love in his eyes for this ‘Yoongi’ person, his face falling quickly at the realization that this gentle giant was taken – because of course he was .
Namjoon must have noticed the change in Jimin’s expression, the dancer never was one to mask his emotions well, at least not quickly.
“Wait!” Namjoon yelped, “Not that kind of partner!” He waved his arms around frantically as if trying to dispel the misunderstanding with his hands.
“Business partner ! Yoongi-hyung is my business partner !” Namjoon emphasized, his hands flailing around almost uncontrollably in a panic, nearly taking out the small potted plant on the table in the process (thankfully the pot only wobbled a little).
That’s all it took for Jimin to burst out laughing, the ridiculousness of the entire situation proving too much for him to handle at this point. And once he started, it was too hard for him to stop. The dancer kept giggling, the frightened look on Namjoon’s face that he could barely see through his laughs (his eyes did not close up when he laughed too hard – shut up) only serving to make him laugh even more, nearly making him topple forward – a pair of now familiar hands coming up to catch him.
“Careful , Jimin-ah. I haven’t tended to your burns yet, I wouldn’t want to add more injuries onto the list.”
Namjoon’s deep voice sent a delighted shiver down Jimin’s spine, the gentle touch with which he put Jimin back on the chair, coupled with the playful edge in his tone had the dancer two seconds away from sucking the man’s dick, already working out ways to get him out of his cute, yet impractical outfit in his head.
He took a deep breath, aiming to appear calm and collected before Namjoon, a man who up until no more than an hour ago was a complete and total stranger, a hot stranger that Jimin wanted to climb like a tree, but that wasn’t the most important thing to consider at present. Jimin needed to look cool because he’d messed up enough already, being an unprecedented level of clumsy in front of a man who fit Jimin’s type to a tee – all that and an entrepreneur!
Jimin opened his eyes, meeting Namjoon’s expression, a raised eyebrow and jutted jaw — fuck, Namjoon was really going to be the death of him. He could already feel a little heat pooling in his stomach, the clench in Namjoon’s jaw showing the man’s ability to be endearing and cute enough to coo at, while also being more than hot enough to make any sane, sexual being with two working eyes want to drop to their knees before him.
The heat in the dancer’s body was more than enough to sober him up, enough to want to take control of the situation, and tease the elder a tiny bit.
“Weren’t you going to tend to my wounds, Namjoonie-hyung?” Jimin purred softly, leaning into Namjoon’s space and holding his injured arm out for inspection, an exaggerated pout on his plush pink lips, eyes widened in an innocent manner, looking up at Namjoon.
And like clockwork, he saw the telltale signs of attraction on Namjoon’s face. The brown-haired man’s eyes became dark and narrowed slightly, tensing up his jaw and swallowing — hard .
Jimin could barely hold back the satisfied smirk that threatened its way onto his face. He knew the connection between them was almost palpable, the way Namjoon treated him with care from the moment they laid eyes on each other and made sure to clarify his relationship to that Yoongi guy was the icing on the cake, this reaction was really just the cherry on top that served to confirm what Jimin hoped was true.
Namjoon, it seemed, was still staring at Jimin’s lips, and though the blond wouldn’t exactly be opposed to their meeting taking this type of turn, he found that he really wanted to get to know his new hyung, outside of their physical attraction for each other.
He wouldn’t have time to worry about what to do to diffuse the situation, Namjoon snapped out of it seconds later, shaking his head as if to clear it (to Jimin he just looked like an overgrown puppy that had accidentally gotten wet and was shaking the excess water off — cute ).
“May I?” Namjoon asked in a voice barely above a whisper, hands reaching out towards Jimin’s injured arm.
Jimin allowed the elder to take his arm, curious as to what the shop owner would do.
Namjoon took his arm delicately —almost reverently — and rolled the soiled sleeve up slowly, revealing the blotchy red skin on his wrist. It was past saving at this point, the white shirt drenched in liquid and tainted a sickeningly sweet caramel brown color. Jimin couldn’t help but wince at the action, however careful Namjoon was, it still left an uncomfortable, sticky feeling on his skin.
The elder must have taken this as a sign of pain or discomfort because he winced almost sympathetically and started doing things even slower, adopting what could only be considered a sloth’s pace at this point. And Jimin, who wasn’t usually a very patient person (even less so on an off day like the one he had been having) could do nothing but sit there and bite back the urge to coo, an enamoured grin taking over his features as he watched the big, bulky, soft man dressed in dungarees focus so hard while cleaning around the affected area, applying aloe vera gently all over, and then — was that a pokémon themed cold compress?
“This one is mine,” Namjoon grinned proudly, pointing at a compress with a green Pokémon that looked like a mix between a turtle, a plant, and a dinosaur. “His name is Bulbasaur, he’s my favorite.” Namjoon said, the red on his cheeks turning slightly deeper at the admission. The elder grabbed the pack and gingerly placed it atop the reddened skin on Jimin’s arm, barely holding back a hiss, as if it were him who was injured and not Jimin.
Maybe later Jimin would blame it on the fact that he’d had a weird day. Maybe he would blame it on being injured, or on the missing caffeine in his system, but he could already picture himself falling for the beautiful man in front of him. The dancer almost injured himself trying to hold back the smitten smile that spread across his face. The warmth of every single one of Namjoon’s gestures, how he’d taken care of Jimin, saved him from further injury more than once in the span of no more than an hour, and tended to his wounds so carefully blooming in his belly and filling him with a feeling so pleasant and cozy that Jimin could easily become addicted to.
“Namjoonie-hyung…” Jimin whispered, trying to catch the eye of the man before him, who was still holding the compress to Jimin’s arm, a look of complete concentration on his face, tongue poking out cutely as he focused, snapping out of it to look at the dancer with an eyebrow raised in question.
“Thank you for taking care of me, hyung.” Jimin said shyly, allowing some color on his cheeks as he got ready to ask what he really wanted to ask.
“Is there…anyway I can repay you?” The dancer grinned a little mischievously now, hoping that Namjoon would pick up on what he meant.
Namjoon’s eyes widened in response, the elder swallowing hard at Jimin’s words, nearly dropping his hold on the dancer’s injured hand in the process.
“That’s not necessary!” The elder squeaked, “It was mostly my fault anyway! You wouldn’t have gotten injured if I hadn’t dropped my coffee in the first place.”
Jimin would be lying if he said it wasn’t a little entertaining to watch the frustratingly gorgeous man flounder for an adequate response. It was around the time that Namjoon had started to turn an alarming shade of purple from the lack of oxygen, launching into a monologue about how the first aid kit was always stocked with extra supplies because he was really clumsy, and his Yoongi-hyung even had a Namjoon incident counter in the back office, that Jimin decided to intervene for everyone’s sake.
“Hyung!” Jimin interrupted Namjoon’s spiral, placing his uninjured hand on top of Namjoon’s. “You can’t exactly say that it was your fault when it isn’t your coffee that’s currently being soaked up by my shirt, and even then, you saved me from falling…more than once.”
The reminder of everything that had happened earlier made Jimin flush with embarrassment once more, furthering his determination to ask this infuriatingly perfect man on a date. The dancer sighed, not able to begrudge Namjoon for being a gentleman and not wanting to take advantage of someone in distress (even if Jimin wanted to be “taken advantage of”).
“Namjoon-hyung,” the dancer said more calmly, looking down at their hands, taking one of Namjoon’s hands in his uninjured one and stroking the back of it with his thumb (whether the gesture was meant to soothe himself or Namjoon — the jury was still out on that one).
“I’m trying to ask you out on a date, hyung,” Jimin teased, “And I can’t decide whether you’re refusing because you’re a selfless gentleman or an oblivious dummy, but for some reason I can’t bring myself to care.”
The dancer laughed lightly to himself, looking up from their joint hands just in time to see the look of surprise on Namjoon’s face shift to a soft smile, the dimples on the elder’s face deepening the wider his smile got — distantly, Jimin daydreamed of getting to kiss those dimples.
A light press on his hand brought Jimin back to the present.
“Go out with me, Namjoon-hyung.” Jimin murmured quietly, wanting the moment to be as private and intimate as possible. He hadn’t really phrased it as a question because he knew what the answer would be, could see it clearly on Namjoon’s face.
Namjoon smiled so hard that for the first time, Jimin understood the true meaning of a megawatt smile, it was as if the elder lit up the whole room with the sheer amount of contentment he radiated.
“I would love to, Jiminie.” Namjoon said, leaning forward into Jimin’s space enough that he could smell his cologne, taking that opportunity to flip Jimin’s hold on their hands so that they were palm to palm, fingers loosely intertwined.
“On one condition though.” Namjoon said, face turning serious, Jimin was intrigued.
“I get to plan the first date.”
And it was a lot for Jimin to take in. The idea that Namjoon was already thinking of them having more than one date together, was already thinking about their future.
His entire body felt like it was going to burst, the warmth that came from their joint hands spreading all over Jimin’s body, from the tips of his toes to the very top of his ears, a happy giggle bubbling its way out of his mouth.
Jimin left the coffee shop having exchanged numbers with Namjoon and a promise of more to come, a giddiness that he’d only ever felt when nailing a particularly challenging dance coursing through his veins.
The energy that he got from visiting his favorite coffee shop (however embarrassing it was) and meeting Namjoon was enough to get Jimin through multiple hours of Hoseok yelling at him, and even endure his punishment with an easy smile on his face, the physical exhaustion never once dampening his spirit.
☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎
They exchanged messages back and forth for the rest of the week, sending pictures and songs, sharing funny stories and tidbits about their days. On days that Namjoon sent a ‘good morning’ text, Jimin would wake up with a smile on his face that lasted long enough for his cheeks to hurt, Hoseok calling him out for being distracted and looking at his phone all ‘dopily’.
On Saturday morning, Namjoon messaged Jimin, a picture of the view from his apartment as the attachment.
Joonie-hyung
The sky looks almost as pretty as you are. Do you have any plans for this afternoon?
[Attachment]
Jiminie
Aish, Joonie-hyung, you’re quite the charmer aren’t you?
No plans so far, why, what are you offering?
Joonie-hyung
I think it’s time for that first date, don’t you? I have a surprise for you…
Jimin could barely hold back the need to roll around in bed, butterflies coming alive in his stomach at the prospect of finally going on a date with Namjoon , his mind going a mile a minute trying to figure out what the surprise could be and what the dancer was even supposed to wear on when presented with no information about the date itself.
Joonie-hyung
As for the dress code…wear something comfy!
Okay, maybe Jimin squealed just a tiny bit. Namjoon was just so fucking cute.
Joonie-hyung
Oh, and meet me at the café, you know since it’s our first date, I thought a neutral meeting ground would be best. Haha, stranger danger and all of that you know…
Jimin bit his bottom lip almost hard enough to draw blood and shook his head as he read the last message. If it were anyone else he was texting with, he would have been bratty. Pointed out the fact that the café that Namjoon owned could never be considered neutral ground if one of the parties involved is literally the proprietor of said ground, but he held back, too stupidly endeared and wrapped up in thoughts of first dates and comfy outfits to care.
He texted a quick confirmation message and practically jumped out of bed, gracefully of course, to get a head start on looking like the ‘effortlessly stunning’ look that he was going for took him less than 20 minutes to prepare (spoiler alert: it obviously did not).
They met up at the coffee shop later that afternoon, the pre date jitters that usually plagued Jimin before a date were nowhere to be seen, instead a healthy blush took residence on the younger’s cheeks the moment he laid eyes on his date.
Namjoon was dressed in an outfit similar to Jimin’s, the dancer was pleased to find, both men had worn a white graphic tee, and while Jimin had worn blue jeans, Namjoon had gone with green pants that were a little looser but still form fitting enough to have Jimin staring at his legs.
The man wore a knit beanie on his head and a smile on his face that made his dimples look deep enough to rival moon craters — cute.
“Are you ready to head out, Jiminie?” Namjoon cooed, gesturing for Jimin to follow him towards the door, opening it for the younger to go through first — a gentleman — then leading the way towards his surprise.
Jimin was curious, especially since Namjoon seemed to be carrying probably one of the biggest tote bags to ever exist in one hand, but he decided to be a good sport about it, happily chatting with him on the way to their mysterious final destination (and if he walked just a tiny bit closer so that their hands were lightly brushing against each other every other step, then that was his business alone).
No more than ten minutes later, Namjoon pulled them to a stop right in front of a gorgeous, lush, green park. It was deceivingly spacious, with different sections for various activities. Namjoon let Jimin stop to take the scene in before continuing their walk further into the park, reaching a grassy area that was less busy, only a few groups of stragglers spread out, reading, chatting, or having picnics.
Then, it clicked. The casual clothes, the huge tote bag, the park — their first date was a picnic.
Jimin had never gone on a picnic date before, never been invited to one or really deemed it a ‘date-worthy’ activity. To him it seemed almost too casual, too laid back and potentially messy to imply any real effort on the planner’s part and was therefore disqualified from the ‘cute date ideas’ list in his mind. But with Joonie, they had just reached the park, and Jimin could already tell it was going to be a fun and relaxing afternoon.
The dancer turned just in time to see Namjoon laying out a well-loved quilted picnic blanket, putting the tote bag on top of it before digging out two hot thermos and setting them down alongside a gorgeous spread of sandwiches and pastries, finger food that would probably look weird if put on a table together, but in this particular situation somehow just fit.
It wasn’t until everything was set up that Namjoon gestured to Jimin, looking shy but proud of himself at the sweet and savoury spread that he’d procured for them — it took everything in Jimin to keep from cooing at the elder and kissing his cute dimpled cheeks.
Namjoon shifted on the blanket, making space for Jimin to sit comfortably without messing anything up, and the dancer was sure to move carefully just in case his ballerino balance decided to abandon him like it did that day at the café. He waited patiently for Jimin to settle, reaching over to grab one of the hot thermos he brought, a pretty green one with a built-in cup.
Jimin eyed the thermos and then Namjoon, raising an eyebrow questioningly, noticing the pretty pink blush that settled on the elder’s cheeks as he fiddled with the bottle, looking between it and Jimin as if trying to decide what to do.
“I brought us drinks from the shop.” Namjoon handed the thermos over to Jimin, their fingers brushing lightly as he finally met Jimin’s gaze. “Your bottle is filled with toffee nut latte, it’s um, what you ordered the day that we met. I hope that’s okay?” Namjoon’s tone was gentle, the question almost vulnerable in a way that none of his texts or their earlier interactions had been and it settled something deep inside Jimin to know that this man was as thoughtful as he was gorgeous.
Jimin was too busy plotting ways to seduce Namjoon into his bed from now until the end of days in his head that he forgot to answer the elder’s question. Namjoon, in turn, freaked out and launched into a self-deprecating rant about how stupid he had been to think that would be a good idea considering Jimin had burnt himself with that very drink not too long ago! It must have been traumatizing for him!
And Jimin, who had been drawn out of his daydreaming and schemes by Namjoon’s monologue, couldn’t help but laugh at the dorky, ridiculously endearing man in front of him who was worried about Jimin and somehow bringing back bad memories on their first date — as if that could ever happen, as if Jimin could ever remember their first meeting as anything other than what was quickly becoming one of the happiest days of his life.
A few hours later, with cheeks aching from laughing and smiling so much, and full tummies, they laid side by side on the grass, their pinkies touching yet not quite intertwined, breathing in sync and staring up at the sky together.
They stayed like that for a while, talking about everything and nothing, picking out shapes in the clouds and then allowing a comfortable silence to settle over them like a warm blanket, letting the day drift away slowly.
It wasn’t until the sun set, the chilly air picking up enough to start biting at their reddened cheeks, that they decided to call it a day, the heat that Jimin felt from their pinkies grazing was nothing compared to the warmth that spread throughout his body as Namjoon (bravely) took his hand, intertwining their fingers as they walked back to the café together.
Namjoon (ever the gentleman) insisted on accompanying Jimin all the way home, using his free hand to open the cab door for him before scooting in next to him. He made polite chit chat with the driver on the way, a soft smile on his face as he looked at Jimin, running his thumb over the back of Jimin’s hand soothingly. Allowing himself to lean on Namjoon’s shoulder, Jimin thought back to the entire day they had gone through and quickly came to the conclusion that even if the date ended right then and there, it would still be the best first date he had ever had.
As they got out of the cab, Namjoon held onto Jimin’s hand a little tighter, letting him lead the way to his apartment, and for the first time ever, Jimin wasn’t worried or nervous about the end of a date, but found himself eager instead. He pulled them to a stop in front of the door to his apartment, gently squeezing Namjoon’s hand — not wanting to disturb the companionable silence that they’d built up to this moment.
Their eyes met and Namjoon smiled, relaxed but genuine, dimples popping out as he brought his free hand up to Jimin’s face, caressing his cheek softly before leaning in slowly, bringing their lips together in a kiss that felt like comfort — home.
And if Jimin slipped into bed that very same night with a smile, thinking about how he would gladly take one thousand of Hoseok’s punishments to get another taste of Namjoon, then that was no one’s business but his own.