Work Text:
“Hey baby.”
Jungkook snaps his head up, eyes blinking away sands of sleep. His shoulder kind of hurts, having been bent in a weird position since he fell unconscious god knows how long ago. Blearily, he checks his phone for the time. Oh good, it’s only been about 15 minutes since he last remembered replying to Taehyung’s text.
He feels a hand gently thread through the locks behind his head, short fingers massaging the base of his neck. On autopilot, Jungkook leans in, sighing, but not saying anything.
“What’re you studying?” Jimin plops down behind him, sitting straighter so he could hook his chin over Jungkook’s hunched shoulder, “maybe hyung can help?”
“It’s math,” the younger groans, slouching even more, sliding Jimin’s frame onto his back. The warmth is comforting. Jungkook thinks he might fall asleep again. “I hate math.”
Jimin’s tinkling giggles fill his ears, tremors wracking his body, and Jungkook feels that same rush again, to make Jimin laugh, to marvel. The fingers in his hair tug slightly, catching his breath in his throat, before loosening their grip and moving down past his neck, to loop around his ribcage instead.
“I used to be good at math, tell me what you don’t understand,” Jimin says, reaching his other hand out to flip at the revision text splayed out in front of them. After a few minutes, he starts chuckling, nose crinkling. “I’m sorry, Jungkook-ah, the last time hyung looked at math was counting money to buy coffee this morning. You’re on your own.”
And Jeon Jungkook is not ever one to whine, but the day has been extremely long, and he’s so, so tired. His math midterm is the least of his concerns, his image before Jimin even less than that.
“Hyung,” he drags out the syllable, pitching his tone a certain way he knows usually gets him what he wants, “Jiminie hyung, make it go away.” He’s leaning his entire weight back into Jimin’s frame now, dropping his pencil and instead reaching back to tug at Jimin’s oversized sweatshirt.
Jimin smiles against the side of his neck, body shaking again with silent laughter. Jungkook huffs. Both of Jimin’s arms are tightly looped around his torso, his legs caging Jungkook from each side, clinging.
“You’ll do fine, baby,” Jimin finally says, “you’re really good at guessing answers.” Soft lips start pressing around Jungkook’s exposed shoulder, where the wide collar of his plain shirt has slipped, up his neck and finally at his jaw, under his ear.
Jungkook twists in Jimin’s hold, Jimin’s lips brushing across his cheek and nose before he’s diving straight to press their mouths together properly. He turns his body, looping his arms around Jimin’s waist and pressing sloppier kisses to his lips, cheeks and jaw. Jimin lets him, his fingers returning to the younger’s hair.
“Hyung,” Jungkook whispers against Jimin’s lips, waiting until Jimin hums in question before continuing, “hyung, I think I’m gonna fail, I’ll fail, never graduate, and be known as that idol who kept repeating highschool.”
Jimin bursts into giggles again and Jungkook’s heart soars, limbs tingling with giddiness. This boy in his arms, so bright and wonderful, is willing to hold him and fuck him, tell him he’s doing well and that things will be okay. The words surge up from his gut, feelings so sure, like nothing he’s ever known before.
“I love you,” Jungkook says. Jimin hasn’t recovered from his giggling fit yet, so Jungkook waits. He’s half lying on top of Jimin by now, the older having given up and leaned back onto the floor, his light silvery purple fringe a mess, but looking nothing short of a miracle to Jungkook.
“You’re my miracle, Jungkook-ah.”
Startled, Jungkook turns wide eyes at Jimin, who’s calmed down and smiling at him with that one look, so tender it makes Jungkook feel like his insides are melting, like he’s given away his entire being to this person, and thanked him for taking it too.
“I love you, Jimin hyung,” Jungkook repeats dumbly, his eyes practically glazing over from being starstruck, fallen completely. Jungkook’s hands fist into the material behind Jimin’s back, latching onto his every movement, the fluttering of his eyelashes, the disappearing and reappearing act of his dimple as he smiles, the parting of his lips when he sighs adoringly.
Jimin chuckles, feeling Jungkook’s fingers tightening around his shirt so much he might stretch out the material. He knows the younger is waiting, to hear words that Jimin has been telling him for years, even before they were together. Words that he repeats like a spell, against the skin of Jungkook’s stomach, during soft hours of the morning before he wakes.
How silly, Jimin thinks, smiling secretly.
When he finally deems Jungkook has waited long enough, like he’s strung so high in anticipation he might snap, Jimin leans forward, the sudden movement startling Jungkook. His doe eyes follow Jimin’s movement until he’s faced with his chest. Jungkook’s heart is fucking threatening to beat out of his ribs. It’s ridiculous. All Jimin does is press a kiss to the crown of his head, arms wrapping around Jungkook’s shoulders, pulling him close until they fit together not so perfectly, too sharp elbows and too long limbs.
“I love you too, baby.”