Work Text:
The location scout was very proud of themselves.
With good reason, probably. Jimin eyes the dramatic set that has sprung up in this remote, wooded area. He’d be more impressed if it hadn’t taken a plane, a car, a helicopter and 14 hours to get here. His PA drops a whimsically old-fashioned key into his palm and gestures to the low bungalows that will house the actors and crew for the two month shoot.
His bags are already inside the warm, well-furnished cottage, material comforts present and pleasantly rustic. It seems like the entire production is taking advantage of the December shooting schedule and making a mini-vacation out of these first scenes. Jimin will relax when the footage is in the can; until then this is just a very scenic work situation.
The big scooped-out wicker chair by the (currently) dormant fireplace looks inviting enough for Jimin to pull out his copy of the script and flop into it. There’s a wide picture window to his left that shows off the trees dusted with a cinematic amount of snow. Everything is so completely winter wonderland it’s actually a little eerie. But, of course, nothing less than the perfect snowy vista will do for a dramatic Christmas confession between lovers at the resort. Jimin flicks past the first few scenes, skipping to his character introduction.
The big dramatic confession won’t be his; he gets to play the villain this time around. The scheming childhood friend who wants to get with the lead for selfish financial reasons after gambling his own savings away. It’s all very melodramatic, and not nearly his style. Jimin has been gracing the posters of dramas as the clean-cut romantic interest for five years now—the sweet boy next door, the unassuming childhood friend, the gentle coworker, and so on and so forth combining gentle, sweet, and unassuming in a mad-libs style assortment. So no one will be sure what to expect from such a camp, sinister role from him.
Which is the whole entire point.
Jimin can see the warning lights flashing from miles off in the future; the typecasting, the stale scripts, the newer, hotter replacement that will come along in no time to take over being a one-trick pony for the next ten shows. No way is that happening to Jimin.
He traces over the dialogue, the cattiness to this guy, the insecurity manifesting as aggression. There’s something enticing in the idea; of being so slimy and unlikeable with his “second lead” face, as a particularly sour article dubbed him. No stranger to making what he has work for him, Jimin is excited to rise to the challenge. After begging his agent for “something exciting” and being thrilled with the villainous results he knows he has to deliver.
His eyes flick over the lines of the lead and the main love interest. It’s pretty standard fare, in fact the casting director had even asked if he wanted to read for the lead to which he responded a resounding “No, thank you.”
Still though, in the right actor’s hands there might be enough there to steal the show.
Jimin scoffs and sweeps his (newly) platinum bangs back off his forehead. No one is upstaging him; not when so much is riding on this role for him. He’s lost in this reverie, re-reading his first scene’s lines over and over to imagine the different ways he could play them, when a frantic knocking at his door startles him out of the chair.
“Shit—“ he bangs his toe on the stone façade of the fireplace. “Ugh—“ he hobbles his way to the door to find his PA, Miyeon, slightly out of breath and relieved to see him. “What is it??” He snaps, toe smarting and in no mood.
“You’re not answering your phone.”
Jimin pulls it from his pocket, frowning. “I didn’t feel it go off.” The screen lights up to reveal he apparently has no service in his cosy little bungalow. Rustic indeed.
“This is why the wilderness has no place in show business.” He grumbles, and she rolls her eyes at him. “Well what is it?”
“They’re wanting to move the cast read-through up; they want to start in about thirty.” Miyeon explains, tapping away at her tablet.
He glances at the time, “So early? Why?”
She shrugs, “The cast want to go skiing after—it’s apparently great weather for it according to your lead actor.”
Jimin stares at her, nonplussed, “But we start shooting tomorrow! Aren’t they worried about injuries??”
Miyeon chuckles, “Well you can’t blame them. It is pretty idyllic up here—how often can you say you got to ski a mountain like this?”
He grumbles some more, already casting around for his coat, “Fine fine let’s head over there; your idyllic mountain has a long walk between the cast quarters and the main office and set.”
She shoots him a brilliant grin, more than accustomed to his bellyaching. After all, he only ever does it to her. Miyeon has been with him since his very first job and since Jimin doesn’t want to be known as the on-set complainer he reserves all of it for Miyeon’s ears only.
She steps out to wait for him on the porch and he’s nearly out after her before she plants a hand on his chest, “You have your key?”
He doesn’t; he dramatically sighs and turns back to scoop the filigreed key off the side table and into his pocket.
“It’s an automatic lock; don’t want you to get stuck out in the snow.” She says, and sure enough the door swings closed behind them and he hears the click and whir of the lock sliding into place.
They set off for the main office, winding along a narrow path that’s been salted to keep the snow at a manageable level. Jimin thinks back to the seven or so pairs of shoes he brought and berates himself as naïve; there’s no way he’s going anywhere outside wearing anything except his boots. People are milling around outside the office, craft services is unloading a caravan of catering trucks and a bunch of sound guys are having a loud conversation right by the door. The crowd parts for him and Miyeon, either people recognizing him or just the inherent knowledge that a man with that expensive of a dye-job must be an actor.
There’s a big round table set up in the spacious building, and staff flitting around placing name cards and putting water and scripts at each spot.
Jimin finds his easily; he’s been put right near the director. They’ve worked together before; hence why she was willing to let him branch out in roles. A slow circle around the room has names sticking out to him here and there but he’s obviously the most recognizable quantity in the cast. He stops in front of the main male lead’s spot. This name is a stranger to him—Jeon Jungkook—must be a newcomer.
He frowns. That’s exciting; debuting an unknown quantity. But it’s nerve-wracking, hoping instead of knowing that your lead can turn in a good performance.
“Oh that’s my seat.”
A warm Busan drawl drifts over his shoulder.
Jimin turns to see his new costar and gets an eyeful.
Jeon Jungkook is a little taller than him, wearing a loose tank top under his puffy jacket, tight jeans and big winter boots with—is that fur—poking over the tops. He has inky black hair grown out a bit long, dangling into his eyes. But most arrestingly he’s built like a bodybuilder with too many piercings to count dotted in his ears and even his eyebrow and lip. There’s tattoos curling under the strap of his shirt, visible disappearing down his arm and chest due to the shoulder of his jacket slipping off and down to his elbow.
Jimin has the distinct sensation of being bowled over. This is not a sweet, young, clean-cut first timer.
And then Jeon Jungkook smiles.
Right when Jimin might’ve been getting a bit bewildered and off-center this smile does him in completely, warm and beautiful and full of an undefinable energy that bleeds into the space around them. And where Jimin was gawking before…he’s now looking for a very different, very gay reason.
He is, however, looking and doing nothing else, for a long time. Long enough for Jeon Jungkook’s smile to flicker, before recognition sets in and his eyes widen.
Huge. Sparkly. Eyes. Good lord.
“You’re Park Jimin-ssi.” He says, immediately bowing, “My apologies, I didn’t recognize you…your hair…”
Jimin violently jolts himself back to reality, “Oh, sorry, I’m blocking your way.” He bows and shifts so he’s not standing in front of Jeon Jungkook’s seat anymore.
The other actor straightens up, stepping closer to eagerly say, “Ah, I’m so excited to work with you!” He tilts his head, “But this is a setup for a newbie like me; surely they can’t mean for the audience to believe she’d choose me over you.”
Jimin chuckles, “Well she will after I attempt to steal her family fortune.”
Jungkook blinks, “Wait. You’re…you’re playing…” he glances down at the script on the table.
Jimin’s heart is beating unnaturally hard. He knew this part was coming, the part where people see him trying something new. But he didn’t expect it so early. And from the complete newcomer who is playing the lead.
“Your second lead is elsewhere, I’m afraid. I’m your villain.” Jimin shows his teeth, “So I guess my challenge is going to be selling our fight—you’re a bit more obviously built for it than me.”
Jungkook still appears to be absorbing the news that he’ll be a villain. His eyes sweep up and down Jimin, as if measuring him and Jimin can feel the prickle at the back of his neck that’s the beginnings of defensiveness.
“Wow, really…” His perusal is very intense.
“Anyway, I look forward to working with you.” Jimin says, not wanting to prolong the tension or really hear what will come at the end of his musing. Jungkook’s assistant and other cast members are trickling in so it’s a perfect time to get away. He excuses himself to his seat, trying to pretend his ears aren’t a little red. Jungkook hadn’t said anything; but his gaze…didn’t it seem judgmental? Like he was asking with those big expressive eyes, “Wait really? YOU? A villain?”
He creases his new script with more force than is strictly necessary. He’ll make sure no one has any doubts. Especially not big tattooed pretty boys who’ve never spent a day in front of the camera before.
They don’t start the read through right away—there’s a few stragglers who, like Jimin, probably didn’t get the time change for this gathering. This gives him far too much time to read and reread his scenes, and stare across the table at Jeon Jungkook.
Not that anyone could catch him at it; Jimin is a master of the casual observation. The more he looks, the more the math is not mathing. Oh, for sure, there’s definitely something tantalizing about casting this extremely built, dangerous-looking guy as the resort staff who helps the lead actress get away from her big city problems. Jimin could definitely see being distracted from his cares with—
—anyway.
When he read the script this very well-sculpted slice of man wasn’t exactly what he’d envisioned…this Jungkook must’ve absolutely killed his audition. Jimin worries his bottom lip thoughtfully, glancing at the glinting metal on Jungkook’s face as he laughs with a costar. He guesses he’ll see what the director saw sooner rather than later.
The last member of the cast slips in, apologizing profusely, and the read through begins.
It goes well. Jimin sees more than one raised eyebrow when his character introduction occurs and he reads his lines with a hollow sort of charm, overly saccharine and obsequious, hinting at his potential ulterior motives. He sees cast members glance at each other when he laughs, meanly, or when his character is alone and the sweet façade drops to be replaced with his true intentions. And he definitely sees Jeon Jungkook watching him with those eyes, not even trying to be subtle about the way he stares when Jimin’s reading his lines.
Fortunately it’ll take more than that to fluster Jimin, and he makes it through the script smoothly.
The director stands and makes a nice speech about being excited to get started and thanking all the talented actors in the room and everyone claps dutifully. They are dismissed, and immediately a group knots up around Jeon Jungkook and their lead actress. Apparently they are the skiing crew, who the read through was moved for. Jimin is chatting with Miyeon about the schedule for tomorrow, walking past the group when,
“Park Jimin-ssi!”
Someone calls out to him.
The someone. Jungkook cranes his head around the two people in between them and the group turns to stare at him.
“Are you coming up the mountain?”
Jimin is ready to shake his head no, but he looks at the faces of the rest of the cast and recognizes that this is a bonding exercise and if he doesn’t go he’ll be one step behind in getting along with everyone.
Even though he’s playing the villain he doesn’t really want to do that.
“Sure.” He smiles, trying to feel as warm and friendly as he knows he looks. “We got a road clear enough?”
Jungkook smirks, a twinkle in his eye, “Evidently not. The crew said we can borrow the snowmobiles to get to the slopes.”
Snowmobiles? With a bunch of inexperienced actors who’ve probably never skied, let alone driven a snowmobile. What could possibly go wrong? But it’s too late to back out now; he can feel it in the energy of the group.
“Race you there.”
Jungkook grins that heart-stopping grin at him again.
What a mess.
The sun is just beginning to sag in the sky when they finally load up. Jimin snags a snowmobile, regretting most of his life choices but gamely bundled up to enjoy the cold. He experimentally fiddles with the knobs and the throttle; he’s ridden ATVs before and the general mechanics of the snowmobile seem similar. With a smirk he realizes his teasing assertion of a race is still on the table because he’s the first to be loaded up. The other snowmobiles are laden with skis and poles and all kinds of paraphernalia but Jimin is forgoing all of that.
He was never going to ski the day before a shoot. Not in this lifetime. That’s just tempting fate. And thanks to this mindset he gets to wave jauntily over his shoulder at Jungkook still loading his skis and set off into the forest. The controls of the snowmobile are a little fidgety and lurch between gears in a way that betrays he’s not an experienced snowmobile-er, but he’s in motion.
The next most immediate problem is navigation since he doesn’t actually know where the ski slopes are in relation to the shooting location. He just picks a vague direction and heads that way, hoping that everyone’s offhand gestures were pointing the actual way they are supposed to go. Well, whatever. If he gets lost he gets lost. It’s not a hardship, breeze pulling at his hood and scarf, to wind between the trees across the untouched vistas of snow. He almost feels bad about it, leaving twin tracks across the pristine landscape.
It doesn’t take long before he loses his primary focus (the race he has most likely made up in his head that no one else remembers or cares about) in favor of his secondary focus (pulling the snowmobile over to take pictures of the stunning scenery). He’s got a really pretty frame here with the trees and the light and he gets kind of deep into that serene space, leaning on the snowmobile to check the pictures, when there’s a “WOO” shattering the stillness of the afternoon and the whirring of several snowmobiles a few dozen meters away. Jimin watches a little parade of actors, led by one Jeon Jungkook, zoom
by, and he sighs.
Well, so much for the race.
It’s probably for the best, honestly, because as it turns out he hadn’t been heading the right direction to the slopes and had he continued would’ve probably been some large mammal’s lunch. He snaps a few more pictures for the hell of it before mounting back up on his snowmobile and rerouting to follow the group.
By the time he catches up they’re at the chair lift, well underway as far as getting their skis in order. He pulls in alongside the gleaming row of snowmobiles, relieved that no one appears to have gotten lost or tumbled to their demise during the trip over. Jimin ignores the bustling entirely in favor of trekking over to the base of the hill where skiers are coasting to a stop after their run down the hill. There’s a bench situated close enough to watch, but far enough to not get skied over, and he settles there. With such a good vantage point he can tell when the first people from their group start to slice their way down the slope.
He trains his phone on each of the actors, filming little clips of their runs and smiling to himself. Jimin likes to edit a little behind the scenes cast video after each shoot, and these will make amazing additions. One or two people even have spectacular (but not painful) wipeouts that he congratulates himself for getting recorded.
Jimin’s life is only threatened once, and it comes in the form of Jeon Jungkook skiing directly at his bench, appearing to bullseye straight towards his phone until Jimin gets up from the bench to avoid an imminent crash.
But of course, infuriatingly, Jungkook cuts a perfect angle just in time to coast right to Jimin’s feet, breathless and smug,
“I think I won the race after all, Park Jimin-ssi.” Jungkook tugs his goggles up to reveal his big sparkly eyes infused with mischief and cheeks flushed red from the adrenaline. Apparently he’s also competitive enough to remember nonexistent races so Jimin feels more validated but also more annoyed,
“So you did.” Jimin concedes, ever gracious. No one can even tell he’s grinding his teeth. No one.
“You’re not skiing?” Jungkook looks him up and down for probably the tenth time that day. Jimin ignores the prickles on his skin that say they like the attention.
“Better than skiing.” He tugs Jungkook closer by the arm conspiratorially, stepping over his skis, to show him some of the videos of the cast he took.
They both giggle together at an executive producer going ass over teakettles into a snowbank and having to extricate themselves with dignity while layered in enough snow to be doing a Frosty the Snowman cosplay.
Jungkook shifts at some point to looking at the side of his face, “So you came all the way out here just to watch us ski?”
Jimin frowns, “What? No. I came to enjoy the scenery. Look.” He flicks through his camera roll to get to the ones where the sun exposure over the snow-kissed hills is really something special. “Can’t get that holed up in the cabins, can I?”
“No definitely not.” Jungkook murmurs, voice strangely low and intimate. Jimin turns and finds himself making eye contact with the other actor, no more than a foot apart. The moment holds. Too long.
They’re saved, thankfully, by a tangle of the cast reaching the bottom of the hill and chattering together, laughing over who had the most trouble on the hill and Jimin backs away from Jungkook’s side, breathless like he too had just zoomed down the hill at top speeds. The group collides into an amorphous blob of talking and introductions and Jimin goes with the flow, pulled from one conversation to the next, getting to know the cast outside of the context of work. He snaps a few pictures here and there—the vibe is so nice. It’s only when he’s got the orange-pink-peach hues bleeding into the sky in his pictures that they collectively realize they need to head back before they get trapped out here in the dark.
The group peels off, beginning the arduous process of getting all the gear back on the snowmobiles.
Sans gear, and without the flimsy race excuse to try and pretend he remembers the way back, Jimin indulges himself in a short walk through the trees behind where he’d parked his snowmobile, enjoying the play of the early sunset on the branches. He stays in the foliage until he hears the first of the snowmobiles rumble to life and he deems it time to head back—assured he’ll have other people to use as a reference to return to the cabins.
The shadows are growing long in dusk, so maybe that’s why the small cluster of cast doesn’t see him coming from the forest, and maybe why they continue their conversation.
“—such a strange casting choice for a bad guy.”
And then, like a stone in his stomach, Jimin recognizes that Busan lilt, “Yeah he doesn’t really have the face for it—“ before the engines cut off the words and Jimin emerges from the trees to see the retreating backs of Jeon Jungkook, the second lead, and a peripheral character actor.
He stands for a long moment by his snowmobile. It’s not a surprise, he tells himself. You knew what people would think.
But the truth is Jimin didn’t know what he would think about pretty smile Jungkook dismissing him like that. It’s not the end of the world, of course, in the grand scheme of things it doesn’t really matter what the newcomer thinks of him. Still, he can’t pretend it doesn’t sting a bit.
Maybe more than a bit.
He kicks at the metal casing, just once, before mounting up and cranking the engine to follow them back to the cabins and set.
Somewhere between the ski slope and the door of his bungalow he resolves to eat up every second he’s on screen so no one can see anyone else—he’ll outshine every last person in this show, romance and heartwarming love story be damned. Starting with the rookie who thinks he knows everything about what Jimin’s face can do after six hours.
He snuggles under the covers of his cosy bed. They’re all in for a rude awakening tomorrow if they think he can’t do this.
~~~
“Aaaand cut! Perfect, guys, we’ll press on.” The director chirps from her spot behind the monitor. “Can I get the setup for scene five? We’ll break for thirty to get ready.” The set is a hive of activity, adjusting the positions of plants and how artfully the snow is dusting the doorway of the resort set they built next to a gorgeous view of the mountains in the distance. Jimin is bundled into his coat, perking up when he hears scene five. He’s been monitoring the shoot from over here, waiting until his scenes but not wanting to be back at the makeup tent or, worse, back at his bungalow like some of the other cast members not in the early shoots. Jimin likes the energy on set; the way it puts him in the zone. There’s no way to replicate that sitting on his thumbs removed from the action. It’s nearing lunchtime and they’ve been at this since 5, so Jimin is more than ready for a chance to flex his muscles.
He’s occupied himself watching Jungkook, who just shot his first scene, putter around the set trying to quell his nerves. He’s doing alright. Jimin’s a tiny bit frustrated with him—his natural magnetism isn’t coming out on the monitor yet, but of course it’s the first day. The kid learned how to hit his blocking just today, of course. No need to be so critical so early. Not, Jimin reminds himself, that the other man had any such qualms about voicing his critical opinion when he thought Jimin wasn’t around to hear it last night.
Their lead actress, however, is killing it. Jimin is genuinely excited to work with her for his scene. His character is arriving at the resort a day late, interrupting a nice meet-cute between our hard-working heroine and the handsome resort facility manager. Jimin smiles to himself as he pulls out his headphones and gets checked over by Miyeon and the makeup artist to make sure he hasn’t made a mess of himself sitting in the corner.
He shakes his fingers out, thinking over the dialogue, shaping the way he’s going to say the first syllables when,
“Park Jimin-ssi!”
This again.
Jungkook lands in front of him, beaming. “It’s our first scene together.” He’s minus all but one piercing in each ear and none on his face, hair carefully coiffed and made up enough to be glowing. He looks great. How annoying,
Jimin quirks an eyebrow, not wanting to be mean but unable to help being a little petty, “So it is.”
Jungkook’s smile doesn’t falter, but he does tilt his head at Jimin’s excessively cool tone.
“I was so nervous all morning…” he giggles nervously. “Especially with someone like you watching me—I’ve seen all your shows I think.” He goes to ruffle his hair and then stops short, perhaps remembering all the time that went into styling it, “I meant to tell you yesterday but it’s awkward to admit you’re someone’s fan.”
Fan? Oh, right, definitely a fan who thinks Jimin is overreaching his abilities. Is this guy real?
“We’re ready to try out the blocking!” The director is back in her place, “Places, everyone.”
Jimin turns his character smile on Jungkook, slightly patronizing, eyes sharp, chin tilted to be looking down on him (even though Jungkook’s taller) and Jimin can see the visible consternation it causes, “Well if you’re my fan you’ll have to be careful not to let me eat you up, hmm? Good luck, Jeon Jungkook-ssi.” And Jimin strolls onto the set to greet the lead actress, leaving a flustered Jungkook in his wake. They set up in their spots for the scene.
“Alright…Action!”
The lead actress drops her gaze slightly, staring off at a point on the floor to not look at Jungkook standing in front of her, “I don’t…have a lot of time for those things at home in the city.”
Jungkook takes a small step closer, “You’re not in the city right now.”
The tiniest of smiles passes across her face but she doesn’t look up, “No, I suppose I’m not.”
Jungkook reaches out a hand, fingertips tentative where they reach for her, “Maybe we can—“
“Hellooo, gorgeous.” Jimin purrs, stepping through the doors in his tailored suit with manicured hands and big overstuffed luggage. He slides a confident arm around her waist, pulling her flush to his body. He pecks a quick kiss to her cheek, “Ugh you would not beLIEVE how impossible it is to find a decent cab driver out here in the sticks. I told you we should’ve flown into Zurich.” He straightens up, leveling Jungkook with piercing, dark eyes that don’t match his smarmy tone, “Who’s this? The bellboy?” Jimin smoothly yanks, turns and clicks the handle of his big suitcase down in a maneuver he practiced for an hour when he woke up, “Up to our room, thanks.” He can hear the lead actress’ quiet gasp as he keeps her held firmly by the waist and is immensely enjoying the blank, wide-eyed look Jungkook is sporting.
There’s a beat too long of silence after he finishes the line.
Jungkook startles, “Ah, of course.” He takes the suitcase and pulls it closer to his feet, managing a weak smile, “Right away.” And he stares after them as Jimin steers her off camera, still holding her possessively.
“And cut!” The director calls, peeking out from behind the monitor.
They all relax, Jimin stepping away from the lead actress with a quick apology for his grip. She beams up at him, “You were so good! I’d read the scene but you made me feel like I hadn’t seen it before.” Her eyes dart quickly to the other end of the set and back before a mischievous smirk tilts up the corner of her mouth, “I think the newbie felt that way too.”
Jimin turns to see Jungkook in a deep bow and he blinks at the newer actor.
“Jungkook-ssi?”
“Please accept my apologies.” Jungkook says, consonants tripping together and he straightens up with a noticeable flush up by his ears, “I blew the timing and—“
“Actually i was coming to say I liked it.” The director pops up, hand soothingly on Jungkook’s shoulder. “I think that’s a perfect reaction to Jimin-ssi’s entrance—it should be like time briefly stops as reality intrudes right? Because we’re building this fantasy space where only the two of you exist—“ she directs this to the lead actress and Jungkook in equal measure of head nodding and expressive rambling, “—and it’s important he’s a clear and present danger to that space, an instant disruption right? Right. Perfect.” She beams at Jimin, “I like your instincts on this. He definitely should be overwhelming in an off-putting way; make the audience jeer at the screen.” She reaches up and chucks Jimin’s chin, familiarity between them easy, “It’s going to be difficult, but you’re going to have to make me hate this face.”
“Don’t worry, I’m going to be utterly hateable every moment I’m on the screen.” Jimin reassures, and she gives the order over her headset to reset the scene. The three of them are left standing out of the way while the prop and lighting department bustles around.
Jungkook is still a bit pink in the face. He shifts from foot to foot, “I really am sorry.” He says again, after a moment.
Jimin finally takes pity on him and rubs at the taller man’s shoulder, “You’re doing fine newbie, loosen up a little and remember you’re the sexy smoldering lead okay? You got this. Make me root for you.”
They find their marks for the beginning of the scene and Jimin takes a deep breath, ready to do it all again.
~~~
“That’s a wrap for today everyone! Rest well, see you in the morning.” The director releases everyone to dinner.
Jimin stretches, feeling his lower back twinge from standing in the tight wingtip shoes his character wears all day. He yawns and pulls his phone to clear any messages or emails—the last opportunity he’ll get to do so before retreating to phone-less void of his comfy cabin. Miyeon appears at his elbow with a bottle of water and rattles off a couple of calls she received about upcoming projects.
“I guess the script reviews will have to wait until after the new year, “ She points out.
“The curse of slow wifi.” Jimin drawls.
“Maybe it’s a good thing,” she teases, “Forces you to take a break.”
“Plenty of time for me to take a break when I’m nice and irrelevant.” Jimin says coolly, not looking up from his phone.
“Hey.” She pokes his side, “That’s not going to happen to you. You’re going to be around to annoy me and be way too busy for a long time, you hear me? I’m manifesting it.”
Jimin leans in and gently bonks his head against the side of hers, “Then I’ll make sure to blame you to anyone who asks.”
“My wildest dream: fulfilled.”
“Park Jimin-ssi.”
Jimin tilts his head to look around Miyeon and finds that face again. Jungkook is standing a few steps away, fidgeting.
“Jungkook-ssi.” He acknowledges.
Miyeon’s eyebrows flick up for a second and she makes an excuse to slip away, melting into the periphery of the room and leaving Jimin to face his costar alone. Traitor.
He sighs, turning to more fully face the young man. Jungkook’s got all his piercings back in, but still a smudge or two of foundation sponged on him lingers—perhaps impatient with the makeup wipe.
“Can I help you?” Jimin is tired, and testy, and emotionally drained after giving it his all all day.
Jungkook can hear that in his tone. He fidgets again, more like a flinch and Jimin feels a faint pang of discomfort.
“Well…” Jungkook starts, still staring at his feet, “I was wondering…”
Jimin crosses his legs and waits.
“…how I did? Today?” Jungkook finally finds it in him to make eye contact and he suddenly looks younger to Jimin, more like a brand new actor in over his head and Jimin recognizes that face. It had been his face only a handful of years ago. “I was wondering if you had any tips for how I can give a better performance?”
“Why are you asking me?” Jimin blurts out, reactively. If Jungkook doubts his abilities…is this meant to mock him?
Jungkook looks confused, “Why wouldn’t I?”
Jimin can’t tell if this is a bit, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to miss the opportunity to drop a bit of honesty on the newbie, return the favor so to speak.
“You really want advice?” Jimin drawls.
Jungkook nods emphatically.
“You’re doing okay. Between you and her, it’s good.” Jimin gestures between the two of them as if to indicate the two-shot of Jungkook and the lead actress. “But you’re being stingy. You’re not sharing any of it with the camera, and, by extension, the audience. How am I supposed to fall in love with you, as a viewer, if you keep me at arms length?” Jimin indicates the surrounding area. “Let it all out; you have a warm sort of magnetism but you’re not good at giving it out on demand. Don’t be afraid to shine—this is your show, right? Give it that intimacy. Not just to her; anyone can be intimate with just one other person. That’s just a conversation.” He scoots forward in his seat, “It takes a true actor to create intimacy with onlookers, and bystanders, and voyeurs. Invite them in. Until you can do that, you’re just another pretty boy to put on a poster.”
Miyeon signals him from the door and Jimin slides out of his chair, snagging his bag. He’s standing toe to toe with Jungkook now, who has very quietly and earnestly listened to him rattle all that off.
“Spend some time when you’re doing your blocking to find your micro-angles. Any time you’re speaking your lines look for opportunities to make the lines yours; the inflections, the rounding of the syllables, whatever your poison is. The more you own your role the more you can create that intimacy.” He bows stiffly, “Goodnight Jungkook-ssi. We’ll work hard tomorrow.”
He doesn’t wait for the other actor’s response; he turns and makes his exit. It was harsh. But it was true. Jimin wonders how Jungkook will take it—if the word of someone who’s operating out of his wheelhouse will have any weight for him.
It’s this curiosity that has Jimin up and ready at the beginning of the shoot the next morning, filming some early morning B-roll for the cast video, picking at the craft services table, and keeping an eye on how Jungkook is doing in his scenes.
Not too close of an eye, he’s not like, preoccupied with him or anything but, you know. An eye.
To his credit…despite what he thinks of Jimin personally he seems to be respecting his advice.
Jimin watches from the remote monitor over the director’s shoulder. There’s a tenderness this morning, a vulnerability that’s starting to peek through and in spite of himself Jimin is smiling. There you go, newbie, there you go. By the time Jimin’s scenes come up there is this great energy on set that buoys them all through the afternoon. Days this packed and long can often stretch forever, rough on morale and performances, but this one is one of the good ones. Jimin falls asleep that night tired but satisfied with what they’ve got going so far. They just have to keep this up.
The shoot stays relatively on schedule for the next several days. The project is really starting to take shape, and the location has grown on Jimin. He’s taken to long walks after the shooting day, going to eat with the rest of the cast, and even on one memorable night trundling down to the closest town to get absolutely shitfaced and do karaoke. In a surprise to absolutely no one, Jungkook has a great voice and Jimin finds himself equal parts irritated and impressed as the ballad notes waft through the bar. He even films a clip for the cast video. Sue him.
That karaoke night is the closest they’ve gotten apart from their scenes together; Jungkook has stopped calling for him; is keeping his distance. Whatever the reason, he seems to have interpreted that he’s not welcome. Jimin supposes that’s true. He hasn’t been welcoming. That first impression is stuck in his teeth and he keeps worrying it. No amount of observing that Jungkook is not only a pretty guy but a talented one, and a generous and kind one and even occasionally a funny one—if the uproarious laughter from whatever group he’s orbiting in is to be believed—will dislodge it.
At this point, the tension is palpable, the performance is benefiting from it (they are, after all, at cross purposes in the show), and it’s easier to keep on than change directions. Something big would have to happen to shake things up.
~~~
They film the fight scene on December 21st. The choreography had been piecemeal since the beginning of the shoot, portioned out so they weren’t having it dumped on them all in one day. Jimin was well versed in the minutiae of the scene by the time the big day came along. His only remaining concern was how to sell the idea that someone with his build (slim, trim, athletic) could hold his own against, and beyond that, be foolish enough to pick a fight with someone who has Jungkook’s build (broad, cut, vascular). Despite all that it wasn’t the technical aspects that had him stressed on the day of, oddly enough. He woke up with a weird, buzzy sort of energy that wouldn’t go away even after breakfast and the generally calming influence of hair and makeup. When he got up from his chair and locked eyes with his scene partner, he understood why. Jungkook looked stressed too, that early intensity from the beginning of the shoot creeping into the way he stared, gaze holding on Jimin when setting up, when waiting, when receiving instruction from the director.
He’d be lying if he said it was completely easy to keep his eyes off Jungkook either. The fight is close quarters, requiring selling multiple hits, and a centerpiece sequence where Jungkook slams him up against the wall, finally pushed too far by Jimin’s antagonizing.
The first couple takes are the dialogue for the lead up, Jimin takes a deep breath, shakes out his fingers, and they start.
“You’re not still playing house are you?” He croons, patronizing, at Jungkook’s retreating back in the lobby. It makes him freeze, warring with the obvious better idea to just walk away versus his character’s pride.
“You can’t imagine she’s taking you seriously.” Jimin lays it on thick, giving the end of the line an obnoxious chuckle and unnecessarily adjusting his cuff links, “Hope you’ve had your fun with her because you won’t have any more. I’ll have to rein her in.”
Jungkook clenches his fists. Even from this angle Jimin can see the muscle working in his jaw—he really has gotten insanely better in front of the camera in a matter of weeks. “Don’t talk about her like that. She’s not your property.”
“No?” Jimin scoffs, “Is she yours then? How do you imagine her parents will feel about their darling girl shacking up with some janitor? You can’t be serious.”
Jungkook finally turns towards him. There’s a little zing that runs up Jimin’s spine, goosebumps prickling at his neck when their eyes meet, “I’m serious that you can’t talk about her like that.” Jungkook says, voice low but clear for the mics to pick up.
Jimin rolls his eyes, laugh dripping with arch superiority. He takes three slow, deliberate steps into Jungkook’s space. “Or what, maintenance man?”
Jungkook’s expression is so taut, so aggravated. It’s perfect and Jimin responds to it, finding new levels to the character of his tone and his posture. They’re staring daggers at each other.
“Or…” Jungkook takes a deep breath, “I’ll have to make you.”
Jimin lifts one eyebrow, delicately mocking. “Oh I’m starting to want to see what that looks like.”
Jungkook blinks a little fast to be natural; Jimin is predatory and oily, craning into Jungkook’s personal space showing his teeth. “Is the dedicated, humble, ‘aw shucks ma’am I’m just doing my job’ idiot really going to fight at work?” Jungkook is boiling, the emotion of the scene bubbling over as Jimin pushes buttons and doesn’t let up, “Over a mediocre lay—what two? Three times? You can tell me, man to ma—“
He’s cut off by Jungkook fisting the lapels of his blazer, dragging Jimin off his footing with a rasp, “I said—“ He slams Jimin back against the wall like they choreographed; Jimin selling the reaction to hitting the plaster and the fear at Jungkook snapping to make it look more intense than it is, “—don’t talk about her like that.”
He’s looming over Jimin, face mere inches from his, breathing hard and spitting the words through his teeth. Those deep endless pools of his eyes have hardened into an icy trap. Jimin finds himself unable to look away and can admit his role of grasping fingers and cowardly flinching is easy to pull off in the face of such a creature.
“Cut!” The director chirps, sounding immensely pleased.
But Jungkook doesn’t move.
They’re both still keyed up, breathing fast with exertion, and Jungkook’s so close his bangs brush Jimin’s cheek. They’re just…staring at each other. This close, Jimin can count the small scattering of moles on Jungkook’s face, can feel the actual—not just for show—strength of those sculpted arms, can smell something utterly enticing that must be his soap or cologne or something. It’s a full-on sensory assault from a very attractive man,
“That’s good guys, cut!”
Jimin comes back to himself, realizing he’s gone and curled his own hands into Jungkook’s sleeves trapping his hands where they’ve grabbed Jimin’s jacket. It takes Jungkook a beat longer, eyes flicking deliberately down to Jimin’s lips before he finally blinks, and his grip eases. They step apart.
Jimin’s head is spinning. The director is gushing, telling them they were great—he barely hears the direction to set up for the choreographed part of the fight.
What was that, he thinks. And once he thinks it he can’t stop thinking. What was that? What was that?
Through the masterful choreography to make them look like they’re actually fighting, through the lead actress stumbling upon them fighting and leaving, horrified that they would do such a thing. Through the end of the shooting day, the wrap up where Jungkook, for once in this shoot, won’t so much as glance at Jimin. Through dinner, and a drink, and a shower before climbing into bed.
What was that?
What was…
…that?
~~~
The two days off of Christmas Eve and Christmas have prompted a flurry of activity among the cast and crew to make plans. The discovery that there was a small hotel and a Christmas banquet in the nearby town gave more shape to those plans. As if operating in a hive mind, the cast decided to go down the mountain after shooting on the 23, spend their days off in town, and then come back the day after Christmas. There’s plans to have a party in the producer’s rooms. There’s plans to do a gift swap in the hotel lobby. It all sounds wonderful…but Jimin isn’t going.
He’s barely enjoyed this bungalow, and the surrounding scenery. That’s a fate of his own design, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to squander the opportunity to enjoy it now. His own plans run parallel to theirs. He will stock up on food, pilfer a bottle of whiskey, and build himself a fire in his cabin and wish himself a very merry and relaxing Christmas. He honestly can’t think of a better way to spend it—a true white Christmas and a break from all the running around.
The last day of filming wraps. The crew caravans down the mountain, and Jimin watches their taillights fade into the distance with a promise to a nervous Miyeon to “check his goddamned messages at least once a day and let her know he’s still alive.”
He goes for a long walk in the woods, leaving footprints in the flawless snow and filling his camera roll until he’s cold. After that it’s a long hot shower, warm food, and his warmer bed. Night before the night before Christmas bliss.
The morning of Christmas Eve sees Jimin sleep in for the first time in…probably three years. It’s so quiet and still without the bustle of the crew and cast that Jimin feels like he could be the only person in the world.
Which is why it’s probably a good time to check in with Miyeon.
He fluffs up his hair and fishes his phone out of the sheets, grumbling at the lack of service. A pair of slippers and a robe later and he’s stumbling to the door, hunting for that spot on the porch where he occasionally gets a bar while still mostly asleep.
The door slams shut behind him as he blearily hunts for service. He’s not processing things on a linear neural timeline so he doesn’t even react until the tell-tale click and whir of the door automatically locking shakes him out of his stupor.
He freezes, breeze ruffling his hair and the ties on his robe, snow crunching underfoot as he turns slowly, like he’s in a horror movie.
Did he just?
“Shit.” He tugs at the doorknob, knowing it’s futile. He bangs on the door like maybe a benevolent spirit will help him undo what he just did.
Namely, he locked himself out of his bungalow. On Christmas Eve. In the middle of nowhere.
Instinctively he tucks his arms in close, wrapping the robe more firmly around him. Finding that elusive bar has become viscerally urgent. He curses at his phone and stomps around the porch, idly wondering how long it will take him to freeze to death in this Naked and Afraid situation he’s put himself in. This is a very silly way to die; he can even picture where he left the goofy Victorian key with vivid accuracy.
“This is not happening to me.” He mutters furiously, knowing it all hinges on getting ahold of other humans at this point. He taps at his phone, willing the red “did not send” bubble away even as a small breeze kicks up and he breaks out in goosebumps where all his extremities are exposed.
He shivers, teeth practically chattering. This is really not good. He stamps his feet to try and warm them up.
“Listen I really don’t want this to be my obituary. No dying half naked in the snow on Christmas.” He mutters.
“Jimin-ssi?”
Jimin turns, and sees Jungkook, of all people, paused on the path leading from the other cabins. Jimin’s first reaction is relief—another human. His second, most visceral reaction, is embarrassment. He’s standing in a slinky robe and nothing else on a porch in the middle of nowhere having locked himself out. The last time he’d had any significant interaction with the other actor they’d had a weirdly intense and charged fight scene. He’d almost rather freeze to death than have his handsome co-star see him like this. Almost. But fuck, he’s cold.
“Jungkook-ssi.”
“Why are you…” Jungkook’s eyes roam up and down him before thinking better of that question, “I didn’t know you were still here. I thought I was the only one who stayed.”
Jimin clutches the robe tight at the focus in Jungkook’s gaze. Intense, always so intense.
“I thought…I was the only one.” Jimin grits. He shivers.
“Are you okay?” Jungkook tries. He looks unbearably warm. He’s bundled into multiple layers and tucked into his big heavy furred boots and Jimin wants to crawl inside him—pause. Woah. Easy, you desperate hypothermic creature.
“I’m…” he nearly says fine and realizes what a ludicrously large idiot he’s being to try and play this off in front of the one person who could help him. “I locked myself out.” He says, eyes on his phone. “And there’s no service.”
Jungkook absorbs that before the crack of a grin can be spied through his scarf, “Ah so that explains the fashion.”
Jimin is lucky he’s cold otherwise he’d probably blush down to his toes.
“I didn’t—“ he shivers again, “I woke up and I wasn’t thinking. I came out to try and check my messages and…”
“…and you locked yourself out.” Jungkook finishes. “That’s so dangerous, Jimin-ssi what if I wasn’t here?” He clomps up the porch near Jimin, causing him to scoot back to avoid brushing against his wet coat. “You really can’t get back in?”
Jimin tugs at the knob again, futilely. “It looks like I really can’t.” He swears gently, “How am I such an idiot?”
“I locked myself out the first day we were here.” Jungkook says, clearly trying to be kind and commiserate. And then the smile again, “Although I did have the presence of mind to do it when there were staff around who could help me.”
“Ah you’ve got me there.” Jimin mumbles. He’s suddenly shy. Why is he shy?
“You just have me.” Jungkook says, making what feels like significant eye contact that Jimin can’t hold.
“Are all the keys the same?” Jimin says hopefully.
“I don’t think so.” Jungkook pulls out a weighty iron key that is clearly not going to fit in the lock of Jimin’s bungalow. “So I guess you’ll just have to come stay with me.”
Jimin’s mind races, trying to find a different outcome. Maybe they could call some staff and get them out here? But it’s Christmas…he doesn’t want to pull them away from their families. They could try to break in? But he doesn’t really want to damage the cute little cabin. That means…
“I’m sorry to impose. I feel so stupid.”
“It’s fine,” Jungkook says quietly, “I’m so glad I’m here so you’re not stuck.” He turns to head down the stairs of the porch, “Let’s go before you freeze. I’ll lend you some clothes.”
Jimin’s stops short, “O-oh you don’t have to—“
“You can’t be planning to just wear a robe for the next few days. No one is going to be back until the 26th.” Jungkook chides him.
Jimin goes to follow him off the porch and the problem of his flimsy slippers makes itself known. “Ah, shit.”
Jungkook turns back and sees the fluffy white shoes. “Well, you leave me no choice.”
“Wha—“ Jimin chokes on the end of the word because Jungkook has crowded him and swept him up into a bridal carry. He flinches away from the cold wet outer layer of the coat and he’s not sure he’s ever felt quite this level of humiliation in his life. “Oh my god you’re not carrying me.”
Jungkook huffs, hefting him more fully into his arms, “You’re so light. And those slippers are about as suited to the snow as your robe. Wow, you really were going to freeze to death.”
“I’m thinking it might not be so bad at this point.” Jimin mumbles, mortified where he’s being borne aloft by those—damn, extremely not just for decoration—muscles.
“Ah but then we wont have our antagonist for the rest of the show and it’ll be very boring.” Jungkook teases.
They reach his little bungalow several houses down the row and Jungkook makes the first sound of exertion—a tiny exhale of effort—to climb the stairs. Jimin might as well be a slightly heavy bag of groceries as Jungkook carefully sets him on the porch and fishes for his key again.
Jimin audibly sighs in relief as they enter the warm cabin, his fingers and toes prickling as sensation returns. That was a close one. The space heater in the front hallway is so inviting he drops into a criss-cross seated position right in front of it and lets the heat blast his face. Jungkook is shrugging out of all his layers, peeling back the bulk until he’s standing in simple gray sweatpants and a long-sleeved navy t shirt. Jimin rubs his hands together in front of the heater and frowns, “Weren’t you going to do something else? I’m sorry I derailed your plans.”
“I was just going for a walk.” Jungkook says easily, disappearing down the hall, “I am much more invested in making sure you’re okay than getting my steps in.”
Jimin takes a second to look around. The bungalow is identically set up to his, but Jungkook has shuffled furniture around and neatly arranged all of his things like he’s actually living here. Jimin gets stuck on the tree obtrusively taking up space in the modest living room. It’s not very decorated—which is a good sign because only some kind of psychopath would’ve lugged Christmas decorations out here to the middle of nowhere—but it’s pretty, with some silver bows dotted here and there and lengths of that same ribbon wound through the boughs.
“You have a Christmas tree?” Jimin sounds a little more judgmental than he means to.
Jungkook emerges from the back, a bundle in his arms, “Ah yeah.” He looks a bit shy, “I like Christmas and since we’re up here I don’t have any of my… anyway the property manager said she didn’t mind if I took this one. I know it’s weird; we’re not even up here that long but I just…” he trails off and hands over the bundle.
“It’s not weird. It’s pretty.” Jimin replies as he parses through what turns out to be clothes in the bundle. All soft shirts and sweatpants and very warm and inviting compared to his robe. “Thank you, by the way, for…” Jimin gestures broadly to the cabin the clothes and really the whole mountain, “You quite literally saved my life.”
Jungkook smiles, but then grows serious, “It really is scary to think what could’ve happened to you. Why did you stay up here alone?”
Jimin bristles, “I could’ve been fine that was just—you know—an unbelievably stupid lapse.”
“I just got the impression you didn’t much care for the snow and the mountain.”
“I love snow.” Jimin corrects him, “I just take my job very seriously which includes focusing on the shoot and not the weather.”
Jungkook chuckles at him, “It’s Christmas, though. We’re not working. Is that why you stayed? To get some alone time away from the crew?”
It was, but it feels kind of rude to say in light of Jungkook’s hospitality and rescue.
“I mean…” Jimin is warm enough now to blush, dammit. He stands up, clutching the clothes. “It just seemed like a nice place to spend the holiday. Why did you stay?”
Jungkook shrugs, “Same, really. Who doesn’t want a white Christmas?”
Jimin fidgets, becoming aware again of the disparity between his nearly nakedness and Jungkook’s comfy demeanor. This seems to have occurred to Jungkook as well, if his focus on Jimin’s collarbones is any indication. Silence falls, a bit on the heavy side.
“Is there…somewhere I can change?” Jimin cringes at himself. Since when is he so awkward?
“Oh, of course!” Jungkook chuckles again, and ruffles the back of his hair, “Not much of a host, am I? The bedroom should work, right? The bathroom’s all yours too.”
He steps out of the way and indicates the hall he just came from and Jimin stumbles his way out of the situation. With the door between them he feels a little less like clawing his own face off. The shirt drowns him but that’s actually a preference of his as it pertains to comfort and the sweatpants fit well enough. He immediately feels way less psychologically at a disadvantage. It’s one thing to wear a slinky silk robe when you’re seducing someone, it’s entirely another to be wearing it while in mortal danger in the snow and being saved by a coworker. Jimin flashes back to Jungkook’s pretty eyes on him in his robe mere moments ago and he determinedly represses the entire exchange.
He sort of folds the robe and lays it over the back of the chair and avails himself of the bathroom. He’s flushed in the face and his hair is a birds nest that he is desperately attempting to flatten when he becomes aware of how good it smells in here. He turns to the shower to see a stacked shelf with dozens of products all crowded together and at least one of them smells good enough make him shiver for a entirely different reason because he recognizes it from that day shooting the fight.
Jungkook does smell really good. He admitted it then, and he admits it now. It’s not a super timely reminder for his deprived body, though, since he’s now trapped in a small bungalow with said good-smelling person. And he spent a significant chunk of the day needing to be saved like a damsel and wearing next to nothing.
He’s made a grievous error.
Jimin emerges when it would be weird not to and comes upon Jungkook in the kitchen, savory cooking smells wafting about.
It’s only marginally less painful than the sexy shower gel.
“Hungry?” Jungkook calls over his shoulder.
“Uh,” Jimin flounders, which should probably just count as his default around Jungkook at this point. “Sure.”
He settles on an identical wicker chair to the one he’d had in his bungalow, pulls out his phone and fruitlessly hunts for a bar. Jungkook doesn’t have service either. He sighs and places it on the side table. There’s nothing to distract him from all the Jungkook in the room. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, showing off his inked forearm and the confident way he wields the knife…
…wow a couple weeks in the mountains and Jimin’s getting horny over the weirdest things.
“Do you want help?” He asks, because he honestly can’t think of anything more torturous than just sitting here watching.
“Sure. You cook?”
“I make an attempt.” Jimin demures.
“Want to finish chopping these?” He scoots over to make room for Jimin at the cutting board. And just like that Jimin slots in beside him and they cook together. Just like that.
Lunch is sitting warm and well-enjoyed in their bellies when Jimin stretches, not having anticipated such a lovely experience being trapped out of his cabin, and inquires as to the possibility of a shower. He must be mistaking the blush that blooms as Jungkook nods and indicates the cabinet where extra towels are stored—a sweet, if mostly unnecessary gesture seeing as how their cabins are identical.
Jimin revels in the hot water, has a small crisis or three over using this fantastic-smelling shower gel and smelling like Jungkook for the foreseeable future, and emerges scrubbed and pampered. All-in-all very much enjoying his Christmas Eve.
He returns to the living area in the borrowed clothes, dabbing at his hair with the towel, “Thank you. I feel human again.”
“My turn then, I suppose.” Jungkook hums, dislodging himself from a sprawled position on the couch. He hesitates before passing Jimin on the way to the bedroom, “Hey…”
Jimin pauses peering up at him through the platinum spikes of his bangs, “Yes?”
Jungkook procures a pretty nice bottle of wine from his cabinet, “Merry Christmas.” He hands it over to Jimin, who accepts it, although bewildered,
“But it’s Christmas Eve.”
“Well the tradition was you got to open one on the Eve. And since there is only one, and I don’t have the ability to get you an actual Christmas present, the wine gets busted out tonight.”
Jimin can’t help a smile, “Flawless reasoning. I guess by that logic *I* am your Christmas present.” He rubs at his hair sheepishly, still not really over the specific, mortifying shame of locking himself out in the snow, “So uh…sorry about that.”
Jungkook shrugs, but stares at the floor, “Could be worse, I’d say.” And then he’s off, disappeared into his room, door pulled half closed behind him to go shower and Jimin is left with a bottle of wine and a weird feeling. Why are there so many weird feelings when it comes to Jungkook?
He notices when the water shuts off.
He’s not being a creep; there’s not much to do with no phone and no internet so he’s been browsing a small stack of books Jungkook brought with him and enjoying the way the late afternoon sun is tinging the snow orange through the window. It’s unfortunate, then, that his ears prick up when the water goes off and he turns instinctively towards Jungkook’s room.
Because the door isn’t closed, you see. It’s barely ajar, a little sliver of the room visible. It’s not much, but it’s enough to see Jungkook, tattoos vivid and muscles perfect, emerge in just a towel slung low around his hips and wet hair.
It’s just a sliver but…
Jungkook is turned away from the door, absently hunting through drawers.
If Jimin leans a little. Not a lot, but a little. He can kinda…
Jungkook lets the towel drop.
Jimin leans too far. He stumbles forward, kicking the edge of the wicker chair with an audible bang. He straightens up like he’s been shot, biting his tongue to muffle the curses and scuttles back out of the sightline to grab a book, any book, and shove his nose in it to look less guilty.
Jungkook doesn’t come out angry and demanding to know why he was peeping. Maybe he got away with it.
Jungkook reappears some time later and says nothing, just roots around in the cabinets for snacks. He really did get away with it. Jimin breathes a sigh of relief. Now all he has to do is act convincingly normal…despite the fact that he did just see an astonishingly perfect ass by total complete accident. A total accident. Completely.
A wine corkscrew is fetched and the two of them kill the—very good and full-bodied—wine as the sun sets slowly. They chat, lightly, mostly about the shoot and Jungkook makes them sandwiches as a sort of dinner/snack hybrid before bringing Jimin a blanket to curl up on the couch.
He does, more tired than he realized he would be this Christmas Eve, but it has, in all fairness, been a bit of a day.
He drifts off while only occasionally peeking at Jungkook’s closed door, definitely not thinking about the view, or taking deep inhales of the shower gel smell that seems to be everywhere. Definitely not doing either of those things.
~~~
It’s Christmas and the sun rises on yet another serene mountain vista. Jungkook and Jimin are getting loose-limbed and hazy with the alcohol and the fire. The big action for the day had been Jungkook showing him the corner of his porch where he could text Miyeon that he was alive and Merry Christmas. He takes the opportunity as well to shoot off messages to his friends and family. The whiskey had been revealed mid-morning as they sat around the tree, and the fire had been built after the first glass.
It’s the most lazy of lazy Christmases.
Jimin is sprawled out on the carpet in front of the fire, drinking in the heat like he can absorb it into his pores. There’s a soft sheet of snow falling, silencing the outside world and it’s just him and Jungkook on Christmas. Jungkook is all contorted into the wicker chair in a way that looks like it should be uncomfortable, but he seems supremely unaffected. He’s nursing his drink and his eyes are on Jimin.
They’ve been there often, lingering in doorways and across the room since their emergency roommate situation. But Jimin can recall their presence from the set and the ski slopes and the icy path since day one. Jimin has felt it, has seen it, has done some perusal of his own. However, as they orbit around each other in Jungkook’s tiny bungalow…what had felt like judgement feels a little different.
Jimin is doing his level best to look at the fire, at his drink, the fucking pattern on the carpet, but their eyes keep finding each other. Despite his best efforts. Which is probably why, on this idyllic Christmas night, after all day liquid courage…Jungkook says,
“Why don’t you like me, Jimin-ssi?”
Jimin was already looking at him so it’s not like he can really escape. He frowns down at his glass, “Who told you I don’t like you?”
Jungkook shakes his head, “No one had to, you’re pretty good at the deep freeze—I noticed the snow outside wasn’t the only cold weather on this mountain.”
“Cute.” Jimin grumbles at his imagery, shifting up to sitting. “It’s not that I…don’t like you.”
“But?” Jungkook quirks an eyebrow.
“It’s nothing.” Jimin says quickly, feeling sort of squirmy under Jungkook’s gaze even though by every conceivable metric he’s the elder, the more experienced industry professional, the theoretical authority between the two of them. He blows his bangs out of his face, “It was petty.”
Jungkook seems to read more from that than he said. He sips at his drink, lip ring clinking briefly on the glass, “It was something I did?”
“No!” Jimin says, knee-jerk. “Well…”
“Did I come on too strong? I’m sure I was quite the cringe fanboy.” He says and chuckles, but it’s nervous.
Jimin recalls that now, Jungkook confessing he was Jimin’s fan…he remembers not believing it. Thinking he was being mocked.
“No it was kind of…the opposite.” Jimin drains his glass, steeling himself for Jungkook’s puzzled look and the other actor doesn’t disappoint. “I uh…heard you and some other guys talking…” he gestures with his empty glass toward the big window, and, by extension the mountain. “You didn’t know I could hear and you said I didn’t have the face to be the bad guy,” he shuffles to his feet, using the flimsy excuse of a drink refill in the kitchen to get out from under those eyes. “And it…I don’t know. It’s something I’m sensitive about and we’d just met and you were discussing and dismissing me right off the bat—“ he’s halted in his flight to the kitchen by Jungkook’s hand snagging his sleeve.
“Jimin-ssi—“
“Look I know it’s silly okay it was just your opinion and I should have tougher skin after being in the industry—“
“That’s not what I said.”
That brings Jimin up short. He stops trying to pull away. “I heard you clear as day.”
“I mean I remember that conversation and yes I did say that but,” Jungkook curls his fingers tighter into Jimin’s sleeve to hold him still, “That’s not ALL I said.”
“All…” Jimin frowns. “What—“
“I said, You don’t have the face to be a bad guy…but you have the talent.” Jungkook is looking at his lips. Jimin feels unbearably warm, even though he’s no longer anywhere near the fireplace. “I said it would be even better because people won’t expect it. I said you were going to be the highlight.” That smile, that devastating smile spreads slow across his face, “Why would I ever doubt you, Jimin-ssi? You’re my idol.”
Jimin falters, “l—“ he flashes back to that night and the snowmobile engine covering the rest of the conversation after that. He must be beet red. “Oh.” What else can he say, really?
He made up an entire rivalry with the pretty, talented leading man because of a snippet of conversation he didn’t even hear correctly. He stands, as though struck dumb, and Jungkook’s smile grows the longer he observes this. “Did you swear vengeance, Jimin-ssi?” There’s an arch teasing to his voice, “Did you stare at yourself in the mirror and say ‘I’ll show him!’ while making mean faces?”
The truth is too close to not be embarrassing.
It must show on his face because Jungkook can’t hold his giggles back.
“Maybe I should be flattered. The legendary Park Jimin wanted to be my nemesis—wait.” Something else occurs to him. Jimin wants to die. “Was that…why your performance…” his eyes get wide, “You worked so hard.”
“You know what I think I’m just going to die in the snow, it’s been real.” Jimin says, pulling his sleeve away and heading for the door. He doesn’t make it very far before Jungkook is octopused around him, laughing,
“Nooo! It’s the highest honor of my life to have you pledge your life to destroying me.” He’s right in Jimin’s ear, and engulfing him with his broader frame and now Jimin wants to die for multiple reasons. The sooner the better. “Our bloodlines will fight over this for generations to come!”
“Oh my god—shut up—“
“Or shall we settle this now?” Jungkook puts his lips right up to Jimin’s ear, “Shall we wrestle for it? Winner gets to be the most versatile actor of the generation.”
“YAH!” Jimin slithers out from under his embrace and smacks his shoulder, “This is your first role, you creature—don’t forget who the hyung is—“
“Oh? You’ll let me call you hyung if I win at wrestling?” Jungkook’s smirk has turned pointed.
“Wait wha—oof—“ Jimin is spared having to answer that by Jungkook fully just tackling him, cushioning them both into a sprawl on the floor. Jimin’s glass is clutched tight in his hand, thankfully as unharmed as his body—Jungkook protecting him from clunking his head.
This has created a new predicament in the form of Jungkook stretched out on top of him, pressed against him, pinning him to the floor. A beat passes. Then two,
“Looks like it’s me on top.” Jungkook hums, eyes hooded.
Jimin chokes, flailing with an elbow to jab the other man in the side to get him off—get some distance—to fucking THINK.
They roll away from each other, Jungkook still giggling to himself. They’re both breathing a little hard, the goofiness of the whole encounter manifesting as a giddy sort of lightness between them here on the hardwood.
“I’m sorry.” Jimin says, once they’ve caught their breath, “I guess I went…very overboard.”
Jungkook is already shaking his head, “I’m just teasing you. I’m actually relieved it was a simple miscommunication instead of me creeping you out or something. That would be hard to live with.”
“I do like you.” Jimin reassures, but then realizes he has no follow up. “I…yeah.” He wants to slap himself, it sounds like a confession, quick you idiot, “It’s been…wonderful to work with you. You’re going to go far, I can tell.”
It’s finally Jungkook’s turn to be flustered. He clears his throat, nodding and his fingers fidgeting where they dangle across his propped up knee, “I…thank you. That…means a lot.”
He tilts his head back and rests it against the leg of a table for a second before, “That was it? I didn’t do anything else, right?”
“Uh,” Jimin says brilliantly, “Well…you stared a lot…at read-through. I thought that was where the judging harshly started.”
Jungkook rolls his eyes, “I was staring because I couldn’t believe you were real. You’re very attractive on screen, you know? And even more so in real life. Sue me.”
“Well that’s…hm.” Jimin trails off, “It really was ridiculous wasn’t it? I invented a whole narrative all by myself.”
Jungkook chuckles, “And I thought I was breaking the ice when I came to you for tips…with this context I probably just made it worse, huh?”
Jimin winces, remembering more, “I definitely could’ve been nicer when you asked for advice.”
Jungkook hitches a shoulder, “I needed to hear it. I got miles better afterwards, didn’t I? Apparently I need you as my nemesis, Jimin-ssi.” The smile is here, and Jimin finds himself returning it, warm and wonderful peace blooming in his belly at the relaxed atmosphere between them.
Nevermind his prolonged, agonizing attraction. Plenty of time to sort that out and compartmentalize it into a box when the two of them aren’t forced into such close proximity. It’s only natural to have a bit of a crush, Jimin tells himself, watching Jungkook’s many earrings catch the light, it’s only natural after he saved you from an untimely Christmas death.
He finally manages to tear his eyes away from his attractive temporary roommate to blink at the clock. The hands inform him it’s closing in on midnight…not Christmas for much longer. He gets to his feet, clutching the armrest of the chair to keep from swaying. Those drinks are making themselves felt.
“I think I should go to bed.” Jimin says, tongue thick. “Merry Christmas, Jungkook-ssi.”
“Merry Christmas.” The other actor murmurs, “I think bed sounds nice. Join me?”
Jimin thinks he’s misheard, “…what?”
“There’s enough room for you in the bed—I know that couch isn’t very comfy. I can’t in all good conscience as a host let you sleep like that again.”
Jimin searches Jungkook’s face for the teasing, the sparkle of mischief. The younger actor appears to be dead serious, gaze wide and searching as he waits to see if Jimin is okay with it.
Jimin’s gay little body is terribly not okay with it. But his drunk little body has a veto on that part of him for now, “Okay.”
“Okay?” Jungkook seems fairly shocked. Oh no, is it weird that he said yes? Oh god it’s weird that he said yes oh shit—
“Let’s go.” Jimin says, ignoring his loud and terrified internal monologue. “I should warn you now…I’m a cuddler.”
“You’re killing me.” Jungkook mutters, so softly Jimin’s not entirely sure he’s heard him right. But he gamely gets to his feet and leads the way to the bedroom, Jimin following awkwardly behind him.
In here it’s like a concentrate of Jungkook’s wonderful smell—like the curtains and bed have gotten infused with this mystery shower gel too.
“God I love the way you smell.”
Jungkook looks at him, a bit bewildered, and Jimin has to just roll with the fact that he said that out loud, “it’s just—it’s nice. Your…smell.”
“Thank you.” Jungkook says faintly.
He rummages drunkenly in a drawer for a moment before tossing some light pajama pants and a shirt at Jimin that he misses by a mile, having to retrieve them, giggling, from by the door. When he straightens up they’re both just face to face holding their changes of clothes. There’s an analytical moment where they’re both clearly gauging where on the awkwardness graph it would fall to change in front of each other versus make a big deal of it and hide away in the bathroom.
Jimin elects to bring an end to that musing by spinning halfway to the side and just…changing. After a beat Jungkook does the same thing on the other side of the room. It’s not weird, don’t make this weird—holy shit that’s a lot of tattoos, and a lot of muscles, a lot of tattooed muscles—no fuck, focus—he slips the shirt over his head and makes quick work of the pants, leaving his (Jungkook’s actually) clothes in a small pile by the door.
Jungkook has struggled into his own pjs and is sweeping his bangs back off his forehead, “So do you…have a side…you…prefer?” He says, a bit stilted.
Jimin, equally weirdly, gestures to the bed, “Well it’s…it’s your bed so…however you…prefer.”
Jungkook just heads to the side closest to himself and Jimin does likewise. They both approach the bed like they’re concerned something will leap out of it and attack them. That is to say, between the two of them they have enough awkwardness to power several generators.
They slip into the sheets in near complete silence.
Jimin can hear the click of Jungkook flicking the lamp off, and then it’s dark. And then he rolls over, and…
…Jungkook is right there.
They’re two fully grown men in a full sized bed so there’s maybe a foot of space between their faces. Jimin’s been this close to Jungkook’s face a couple times by now. That first night by the ski slope, their onscreen fight, earlier tonight even. The other actor has a mole right below his bottom lip. A stray eyelash sticks out further than the others. His cheek squishes ever so slightly into the pillow. Jimin decides he likes this proximity. Easy to really get a good look at Jungkook’s eyes, the surprisingly warm and expressive colors and their depth—seeming like Jimin can simultaneously see all the way through the other man while being laid open and x-rayed from the other side.
Jimin’s eyes flutter closed. He’s had too much to drink. He needs to sleep before the poetic becomes the…more heated version of those observations. Like the subtle pout of Jungkook’s lips that looks very kissable, the sharp cut of his jaw he could lean in and get under to mark up—pause. Sleep, it’s time to sleep.
And then Jungkook shifts and his leg ends up brushing against Jimin’s. And staying there.
His eyes flutter open again.
“Sorry,” Jungkook mumbles. He doesn’t look very sorry.
His chest is so close even in the dark Jimin can make out the subtle curve of his muscles under the fabric. His hand is right here he could reach over and—nope, no. Roll away, Jimin.
But he doesn’t.
Jungkook doesn’t either. That intense focus finds him and holds him there. Hooks him good.
Jimin knows he’s a man possessed, has to be, because with the proximity of their chests and faces and Jungkook’s leg slotted against his own he’s gone crazy and leans in, pressing a kiss to that enchanting, endearing, mouth.
He pulls back after only a moment of soft-warm-yielding pressure and blinks at his costar. Jungkook’s eyes are blown wide, almost entirely pupil as they absorb Jimin’s daring.
“I’m…” Jimin’s face feels hot, did he really just do that? “I’m sorr—“
He blinks. Jungkook has him flat on his back, rolled himself on top of Jimin, gaze sharper, hungrier, another glimpse of the beast he’d seen flashes of a few times before.
“Jimin-ssi.” He whispers, breathy. He leans down and fits their bodies together before kissing Jimin again, harder, more insistent. He opens up for Jungkook, lets him poke his tongue past the seam of his teeth. Jungkook kisses like what he really wants to be doing is eating Jimin. Like he’s trying to get all of one of them inside of the other. The kind of penetrative imagery that comes to mind for Jimin when Jungkook licks hungrily into his mouth is toe-curling and stomach butterfly-ing.
Jungkook is kissing him like he’s been waiting a long time to do it.
Which is….well, a lot.
Surely Jimin isn’t so hapless he missed a crush of this magnitude dancing right under his nose for weeks. Surely not.
“Jimin-ssi.” Jungkook says again, husky and intense right into his ear.
Their kissing has made new and interesting geometry of their bodies together. Jungkook is slotted firmly between his legs and has finessed an arm around Jimin’s back to press him close. Close enough to feel how quickly this has escalated for both of them.
“Hyung.” Jimin whispers, dazed and hornier than he believed could be possible from the lightest of petting. “You can…hyung, call me hyung like this.”
“Hyung.” Jungkook breathes, lips parting in a pleased smile. “Hyung can I kiss you more?”
Jimin is already looking at his lips, missing them. “Yeah. Please, yeah.”
And then Jungkook is on him again, kissing up along his jaw before claiming his lips again. Evidently by “kissing him more” Jungkook meant “kiss you. And then more.” Because it’s not long before fingers are teasing under the hem of his shirt, pushing fabric out of the way so palm meets overheated skin. He skims his fingers over Jimin’s stomach, across his hips and Jimin wishes he could help the audible hitch in his breath at the confident touch.
Jungkook kisses just his top lip, hands roaming and rucking Jimin’s shirt up to his sternum.
“Hyung.” He says against Jimin’s mouth, “Hyung you feel so good.”
Jimin shivers, his own hands on the inviting dip of Jungkook’s hips. The sentiment is extremely mutual.
“Off? Please hyung can I take it off?” Jungkook murmurs near his ear, tugging at where the bunch of his shirt is just over his nipple.
Jimin does it for him, shimmies out of the shirt and immediately has to get two handfuls of Jungkook’s hair to ground himself as he dives in to lave at Jimin’s nipple, hand teasing the other one. He still squirms, too sensitive and keyed up to not be a little wiggly and embarrassing. Jungkook seems not to mind if the low moan purling in his throat and the weight of his hips dropping to press Jimin into the sheets are anything to go by.
Jimin tugs him back and away to catch his breath, bringing them back face to face with his fingers tangled in that pretty hair, “You too. Wanna see.”
Jungkook quirks an eyebrow, “I thought you already had.”
Jimin groans, color flooding his cheeks and rolling his eyes to the ceiling, “I can’t believe you. You knew.”
“Hyung you tripped over the chair. It wasn’t exactly a master class in sneaking…also why do you think I left the door cracked in the first place??”
Jimin fights down the urge to pout. Okay maybe he pouts a little. Just for a second, though, “Take off your shirt before I change my mind about this.”
Jungkook obliges him, each muscle revealed more spectacular than the last and after staring at this body for weeks Jimin can barely believe he’s here right now. He surges up to attach his mouth to that chest, kiss along the inked skin. He can’t get enough of a taste, can’t press himself close enough. Jungkook groans and pushes him back onto the sheets, bearing down on him to kiss again.
“Hyung you’re killing me.” He whispers, and tugs, firm, at the knot of Jimin’s borrowed pajamas.
Jimin is dazed and tipsy, lips kissed pink and hair a mess, “Am I?”
“You have been. Been killing me slow for ages.” Jungkook rasps, rolling his hips down against Jimin’s in a needy, filthy grind.
“I’m…” Jimin hisses, too sensitive where they’re rubbing against each other, “I’m sorry?”
“You should be.” Jungkook has a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth to soften the words, and that damn smile…Jimin is picking at the ties of Jungkook’s pants before he ever makes the conscious decision.
“I’ll make it up to you.”
Jungkook helps him, shimmying the pants down and off to fall somewhere on the ground. He turns back and Jimin very nearly swallows his tongue. He’s so fine, good god. Jimin reaches out to touch, tentatively wrapping his hand around the substantial length of Jungkook’s cock and stroking experimentally.
“Ah, hyung that’s too hot.” Jungkook sounds like he’s been hit in the stomach. His hips twitch forward into Jimin’s hand. Jimin amuses himself, playing with him, teasing him, finding out what pulls needy noises from his pretty mouth until Jungkook reaches down to stop him.
“Hyung, hyung stop I want to see you too.” Jungkook babbles, pulling at the waistband of Jimin’s pants and clumsily kissing at his mouth, “You too.”
Jimin nods, helping Jungkook undress him, getting them both completely naked. He’s been hard for this whole thing, worked up all evening, and frustrated…probably since Jungkook walked into the room at read-through, if he’s really honest with himself. All of that is to say—this is most likely going to be quick.
And with how Jungkook is pawing, and breathing heavy and trying to get rid of any last space between their bodies, well…
“Easy, easy.” Jimin mumbles into Jungkook’s sweat-slick neck, tangling the fingers of one hand into his hair while the other snakes down between their hips to take both of them in hand. “I got you, I got you.”
Jungkook whines when Jimin squeezes both their cocks together, “Hyung oh god—want you so much, please—“
Jimin kisses his neck, stroking them experimentally, “S’ a little dry baby, can you help?” Jungkook nods dumbly against where he’s mouthing at Jimin’s collarbones.
“Lube…in th’ drawer.”
Jimin squints to find the drawer in question, finding it about a hands-length too far from his grasp. That’ll take too long. Instead he twists at the head of Jungkook’s cock to get him to squirm, giving him space to lean down and softly spit over them both.
“Ah, fuck. Hyung is nasty.” Jungkook says, but seems utterly thrilled by this revelation. Jimin spreads it around, making the slide a little slicker, easier.
“There we go.” He cants his hips up, working them in tandem with his hand and it doesn’t take long for Jungkook to catch on too, the two of them grinding as Jimin strokes them both together, punctuating the motion with the pressure of his fingers.
Jungkook’s damp bangs are plastered to his forehead, Jimin has a fine bead of sweat along his neck, everything is so steamy and languid and urgent and easy and perfect and desperate all at the same time. They belong together well; their proportions matching and fitting (sort of, Jimin has to stretch) into Jimin’s hands.
“M’ close.” Jungkook mumbles, after a time.
Jimin kisses at the corner of his mouth, “Me too baby. You want to cum?”
Jungkook’s head drops down to Jimin’s shoulder with a huff, elbows bracketing his head still. “Please, please can I?”
Jimin tightens his grip and grinds hard against Jungkook, “Yeah ‘course baby. You’re so hot, wanna see you do it. Make a mess for me.”
Jungkook groans and lurches up to kiss him, tongue pushing lethargically against Jimin’s as they both feel it building, can feel where they’re tensing against each other. Jungkook cums first, but the feeling of him shuddering in Jimin’s grip and the sounds—good god the sounds this boy is capable of—send Jimin over as well.
He works them both through it until the sting of sensitivity sets in for him, although Jungkook just sighs at the sensation and leans more fully into Jimin’s grasp…definitely something to catalogue for next time.
Next time…Jimin wipes his gross hand on his gross stomach. Jungkook is an extremely warm and sweaty blanket on top of him but he doesn’t have the heart to move him yet. How does he ask for a next time without making it weird? How do they act around each other after this? How is he going to stay awake long enough to shower?
“Mm.” Jungkook stirs after a long moment, blinking long lashes at him. He pulls back to examine the situation smeared all over Jimin’s abs. “What a mess.”
“We were apparently a bit repressed.” Jimin hums, trying to will away the overthinking and anxiety. Not yet, not yet.
“Next time I’ll have to swallow.” Jungkook says, interrupting his musing and worrying easily, so easily with that ‘next time’. And then he dips down, no warning, and licks at the mess on Jimin’s abs.
Jimin gasps at the feeling of tongue, but really at the whole general concept, “Oh my. Will you?”
“Mm.” Comes the affirmative from his navel where the sight of Jungkook lapping at their combined cum…Jimin will have to file that away under “Things To Deal With When I’m Less Compromised.”
“Now who’s nasty?” He says, probably too fondly. Jungkook comes up, sparkling with mischief,
“I learned it all from you.”
“Give us a taste.” Jimin mumbles, tugging him in for a kiss to taste them both together and Jungkook whines again.
“Ah really, you’re too much. Too hot.” They kiss sweet and lazy for a little while, neither of them feeling like being the first to pull away.
Jimin’s hand is sticky. His torso is worse. They’re both sweaty and tacky and itchy. He still doesn’t move. He pulls Jungkook in closer to rub absently at his back with his (relatively) clean hand.
“Hyung.”
Jimin tenses, fearing the “let’s not put a label on this” talk. Or maybe the “let’s immediately put a label on this” talk. Both seem equally terrifying at this time.
“Let me suck you off, maybe?”
Jimin assesses himself and the flare of heat simmering in his low belly at Jungkook’s words.
“Well, if you’ll ask nicely.” He says.
The smile. The fucking smile, “Please.”
~~~
Jimin rolls into the space Jungkook leaves. It’s still warm and he snuggles into it, hearing the younger man pad around the bungalow. The door opens and shuts and Jimin blinks bleary eyes, brain not quite awake. Did Jungkook just go outside? He gets slow-moving war flashbacks from his own misadventure being underdressed and in the snow. Jimin comes to the conclusion he must go rescue his co-star at once. He gathers up the comforter as his shield and shuffles across the floor, probably dragging any number of articles of clothing along with him. He gropes for the door, emerging out into the morning braced for and insulated from the cold.
He finds the wayward actor crammed in the corner of the porch, phone pressed to his ear. The cold has jogged his brain cells, so Jimin has the presence of mind to wedge Jungkook’s umbrella in the door so it can’t close and lock them out. Fool me once. Jimin approaches like a giant blob to devour the unsuspecting man but stops short when he hears that Jungkook has apparently sold his soul in order to make a phone call actually go through.
“—mm. I see. Well it’s good you called me…I definitely would’ve worried if the sun set and I didn’t see any of you. Take care, okay? Merry Christmas. You enjoy town. Bye.” Jungkook hits the end button, “Miyeon called—I told her I’d checked on you and you were doing okay, though still thoroughly service-less.” He says without turning around. Jimin doesn’t even ask how Jungkook has Miyeon’s number. Or how she apparently knew Jungkook was staying up here too and neglected to mention it. Filed under “Things to Throttle Her For When I Emerge From My Christmas Sex Cocoon.”
“Oh I don’t know,” Jimin yawns, wrapping his blanket monster around Jungkook, “I feel pretty serviced.”
Jungkook twists and plants a kiss on his lips. Jimin indulges for a long minute before pulling away to more securely wind Jungkook into the comforter with him. “Are they on their way back? Did they enjoy Christmas in town?”
Jungkook’s hands find his waist, “Terrible news, actually. The snowfall was heavy enough it’ll be another day before they can get the road cleared enough to get back up.”
Jimin absorbs that. “So you’re telling me I have to wait another day before I can get back in my cabin?? I’m stuck out here?”
Jungkook’s grip on his waist tightens and he leans down to nose along Jimin’s jaw. “Oh, if you ask nicely I think I know somewhere you can stay. What kind of a lead would I be if I didn’t offer a redemption to the villain?”
Jimin twists to capture his lips again, deepening the kiss before pulling back to nip at Jungkook’s lip, causing him to yelp.
“The audacity of young people…as if I would want to be redeemed.”
“Ah my mistake, hyung.” Jungkook murmurs against his lips, “Why don’t we take this blanket back to bed and you teach me how to be bad, next? You’re my mentor after all.”
“I’ll spank you.” Jimin says, but there’s no bite in it. In fact, he’s already shuffling back towards the door.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, hyung.”
Jimin wedges his foot into the space left by the umbrella and swings the door open. Not today, bungalow.
He takes the lead actor back to bed as the mountain sits, still and serene with its frosting of snow in the picture window over their shoulders. Jimin watches the light play over Jungkook’s tattoos, the morning sun shining on his jewelry.
The location scout was very proud of themselves, and Jimin agrees. It’s a beautiful view for a Christmas shoot.