Chapter Text
They don’t spend too much time outside because halmeoni is tired and they still have to clean up after dinner.
Yoongi offers to help halmeoni get ready for bed as Seokjin shoos Jimin out of the kitchen to finish up the dishes on his own.
While he waits for his hyungs to reconvene, Jungkook busies himself mixing up an enormous jug of bourbon and ginger beer—an American take on a Moscow mule. Jimin sits down at the table to watch him work, goading him into adding too much bourbon and pinching his cheek when he gives in to Jimin’s demands.
It’s not until Jungkook mentions something about the ginger beer being a gift from one of halmeoni’s bridge club friends that Jimin remembers his own gifts for her in his suitcase upstairs.
He rushes up to retrieve them and then makes his way down the hall on the first floor to halmeoni’s bedroom.
The door is slightly ajar when Jimin approaches, giving him a peek inside and, against his better judgment, he pauses to listen in on their conversation.
Yoongi sits at the edge of his grandmother’s bed with his back to the door. By now, halmeoni has changed into a cotton nightgown and her hair is down from its earlier bun, silver waves of thin hair cascading over her narrow shoulders. She looks older like this, more frail. Yoongi gently massages her wrinkled hands as they speak in low voices.
“He’s lovely,” halmeoni is saying. “Softer than he looks in the papers.” Her voice takes on a teasing lilt. “Much too soft for you.”
Yoongi hums noncommittally, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with her.
“I’m glad you’ve settled down, Yoongi-yah. Life is more than just work and money, you know? Take it from someone who has experience—our family doesn’t always know what’s best for us. Sometimes it’s up to us to figure out what’ll make us the happiest.”
At this, Yoongi’s shoulders slump. He admits quietly, “Jimin and I didn’t choose each other, though.”
Halmeoni pulls one of her hands out of Yoongi’s grasp and reaches up to cup his cheek. “Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean you can’t work on figuring things out together, and it certainly doesn’t have to mean that you can’t be happy together. Maybe you work harder in spite of the fact that you didn’t choose each other.”
Yoongi nods.
Jimin feels like a thief listening in on the conversation, but this is a side of Yoongi that he probably doesn't show often.
“Be good to each other and the rest of it will fall into place,” halmeoni says. She pats his cheek and leans back into her pillows, watching her grandson with warmth in her eyes.
Jimin takes the resulting lull in conversation as his cue to rap gently on the open door.
Halmeoni’s lips blossom into a smile at the sight of him, causing Yoongi to turn towards him as well.
“Oh, my sweet byungari, come in, come in!” halmeoni says.
Jimin shuffles into the room and bows at her from the foot of the bed. “I’m sorry to intrude, halmeoni. I just have some things to give you that my eomeoni sent.”
Halmeoni’s face lights up even further at the prospect of gifts and she pats the spot on her other side for Jimin to take a seat.
The gifts are fairly generic in-law gifts—expensive ginseng supplements and a couple of cashmere sweaters and socks. When she’s opened up the last of it, halmeoni peers into the biggest gift bag with a frown.
“What is it, halmeoni?” Jimin asks. He wonders what his mother could have forgotten.
“No chocolate? No rice cakes?” She pouts.
Yoongi snorts. He rises to his feet, gathering up shredded bits of gift wrap as he tells her, “Even if there was any in there, do you think Nurse Kim would let you actually have it?”
Halmeoni tuts, staring at the ginseng supplements as if they’ve personally offended her. To Jimin, she says, “Tell your eomma that her gifts are lovely but I also quite enjoy Choco-Pies, in case she needs ideas for the future.”
Jimin grins at her, squeezing her hand and standing up. “Okay, I’ll let her know.”
He helps Yoongi clean up the rest of the mess and then they both bid halmeoni goodnight before slipping out of her room.
—
“If you get hammered, I’m not taking care of you.”
Jimin and Yoongi return to the living room to find Seokjin and Jungkook curled up on the couch together, bickering in low voices. It’s domestic in a way that catches Jimin off-guard, even after their bold displays of affection earlier in the day.
“Sure, Jan,” says Seokjin. He takes a swig from the copper mug clutched in his hand as if to spite Jungkook, who rolls his eyes and tweaks his jawline. Seokjin goes on, “And whose fault would it be, anyway? You’re the one who made this abomination.”
Jimin flops down in an armchair, trying not to pay Yoongi any mind when he strides past to pour himself a drink.
“No offense, hyung-nim, but you look dead on your feet,” Jungkook tells Jimin. He bats away Seokjin’s wandering hands when he tries to steal Jungkook’s drink after finishing his own. “Why don’t you just call it a night? You won’t miss much apart from these two oldies getting drunk, probably.”
Yoongi and Seokjin let out identical protests as a tired grin curls over Jimin’s lips. He knows Jungkook is right but he’s stalling. Calling it a night means going to sleep and going to sleep involves being in a bed he’ll be sharing with Yoongi and the longer he can put that off the better.
“I’m okay for now,” he assures Jungkook. “Need a drink, though.”
Before he can get back on his feet, Yoongi appears beside him and presents him with a copper mug cocktail of his own, complete with a sprig of mint for garnish. Jimin can’t keep the surprise out of his expression and doesn’t react until Yoongi lifts an expectant, somewhat patronizing eyebrow.
“Uh, thanks,” Jimin says, taking it from him.
With a hum, Yoongi shuffles away and makes himself comfortable on the loveseat with his own drink, which seems to be straight bourbon. Even in this entirely different place where he should stick out like a sore thumb, he’s the picture of easy confidence.
“So, are we going down to the water?” Yoongi asks Jungkook.
Instead of answering, Jungkook looks to Seokjin, whose head is starting to loll a bit already.
Seokjin shrugs. “If you carry me.”
Had it been anyone else asking, Jimin thinks Jungkook might have scoffed in their face. For Seokjin, however, he’s too soft to do anything but let out a grunt of agreement.
—
There’s something dreamy about the beach after sunset. With only the moon to light the ground before them, fractals of silver and blue reflect off the water and the pearly grains of sand to create a hazy night world of secrets.
It’s chilly, like Jungkook had told Jimin it would be, made worse by the wind that whips through their hair and numbs their fingers. Still, the sounds of the crashing waves and the feel of the sand between Jimin’s toes is nice, almost nostalgic.
“Jungkook, don’t you dare!” Seokjin shrieks, holding on like a koala as Jungkook runs toward the shoreline.
Jungkook’s laughter echoes through the night air, light and breezy over the crashing waves. He comes to an abrupt stop just before his feet touch the water.
“Sobered you up, didn’t it?” Jungkook says.
Seokjin grumbles a little more but holds on even when Jungkook tries to let him down well out of reach of the water.
“Jimin-ssi, what do you think of our little piece of paradise?” Seokjin asks after they’ve calmed down, craning around to look at Jimin.
“Why don’t you ask him when the wind isn’t trying to freeze his face off,” Yoongi says. He takes a sip of his bourbon, so calm and unflappable that it makes Jimin wonder if he even has the ability to feel cold.
Ignoring his husband’s snark, Jimin wanders closer to Jungkook and Seokjin, being careful to stay far away from the frigid water. “It’s nice. Peaceful.”
Behind him, there’s the sound of a shutter as Yoongi snaps photos of the moon and the water. He’s brought along a pretty fancy-looking camera that Jimin has never seen him use before. It’s not surprising that there are many things Jimin doesn’t know about his husband but what he’s learning has certainly been unexpected so far.
Seokjin makes a sound of agreement before finally climbing off of Jungkook to stand beside him instead. “We’ll try to catch the sunset tomorrow, the views are gorgeous.”
They walk along the shoreline for a little while and Seokjin tells Jimin more about the area, like how there’s a flea market in the downtown square every weekend and this little bakery on the pier that has the best key lime pie outside of Key West.
As they meander, Jimin helps Seokjin hunt for seashells while Jungkook runs up ahead kicking around a soccer ball he brought along from the house. Predictably, Yoongi punts the ball back to his brother when it reaches him and snaps a few pictures here and there, but doesn’t move or speak much otherwise.
After a few minutes of wandering, they pick a place to stop and Jimin squats down in the sand beside Seokjin. Before long, he has his fingers buried in the sand and a nice little collection of shells has accumulated between them. The chill helps with Jimin’s exhaustion but he can still feel it weighing him down and making his movements sluggish.
Sitting allows him a chance to properly absorb his surroundings, though. The sand seems to stretch on far beyond what Jimin can see in the darkness, beyond the reach of the moon’s glow, and he wonders if there are any places worth exploring nearby.
As if reading his mind, Jungkook points down the beach and tells Jimin, “There are some rocks over that way and a cave where hyung and I used to catch tadpoles when we were younger. We can check that out tomorrow, too.”
It’s hard to imagine Yoongi as a child, knee-deep in saltwater chasing tadpoles and climbing rocks. Jimin wonders if he was cute. He probably was.
“Tadpoles?” Jimin says, glancing up at Yoongi who pretends not to have heard him.
Jungkook chuckles at the reaction. He’s juggling the soccer ball on his knees a few feet away. “He loved tadpoles but was terrified of seagulls so he used to run straight from the house all the way down to the cave, screaming bloody murder any time a bird got within a couple of meters of him. Halmeoni probably has some pictures of us from back then. We’ll have to dig them up.”
A chuckle bursts out of Jimin at the mental image of a little Yoongi batting away birds half his size as Jungkook, chubby-cheeked and tiny, runs after him.
“Hyung, d’you remember that day we went to the pier with Robert?” Jungkook catches the soccer ball and comes over to sit down beside Seokjin and Jimin. He tells them, “This one time, halmeoni’s husband took us to get ice cream and hyung dropped his orange dreamsicle all over his clothes like, the second we left the ice cream shop. Next thing we knew, practically an entire flock of seagulls was chasing him across the boardwalk.”
Jimin collapses against Seokjin from the force of his mirth, laughing even harder when he sees the expression on Yoongi’s face. It’s clear to see that he’s not actually mad and, despite his furrowed brow and the way he scrunches his nose, the ghost of a smile has lifted his lips up at the corners.
“Don’t leave out the part where you—” Yoongi starts when suddenly the shrill ringing of his cell phone cuts him off. He pulls it out of his pocket and checks the caller ID before answering. “Excuse me. Yeah, Namjoon-ah?”
Phone pressed to his ear, he steps away from their little group to speak to his COO.
“To this day, he still won’t go near orange dreamsicles,” Jungkook tells Jimin conspiratorially.
Jimin covers his mouth with his hand as he and Seokjin devolve into another round of giggles.
“And if you ever wonder why he keeps looking behind him when we’re on the beach, now you know.”
They’re still laughing when Yoongi wanders back over a moment later.
“I have to get on a conference call in a few minutes,” he says. His eyes dart to Jimin for the briefest of seconds, but he looks away so quickly that Jimin feels like he may have imagined it altogether.
Jungkook groans. “Why are you so lame?”
“It’s mid-morning back home,” Yoongi replies, shrugging. “And we’re trying to close on that deal with the Greek apparel company. I’ll probably be up half the night.”
Jimin peers up at Yoongi, considering. Did he say that for Jimin’s benefit? To let him know it was okay to go to bed because he wouldn’t be in for a while? Jimin mentally shakes away the thought. He's reading too much into it. After all, neither of them have ever done anything for each other's benefit (apart from getting married).
“You’re supposed to be taking it easier while we’re here,” Jungkook protests.
At this, Yoongi lets out a snort. “Yeah? Tell that to the legal team who’ve been working around the clock for the last month to get this deal done before the new year.”
Jungkook pinches his lips as if he’s sucking on a lemon but doesn’t comment further. Seokjin reaches over to pat him on the leg.
“You know, on that note, I think I’ll head back too, actually,” Jimin announces. He polishes off what’s left of his drink, grimacing at the sheer volume of bourbon that burns his throat on its way down, and then gets up and brushes the sand off his pants as he bows. “G’night.”
—
The walk back to the house is short and quiet but for once, Jimin doesn’t feel awkward around Yoongi. He thinks maybe it’s just the bourbon dulling his senses, or maybe it’s the image of little Yoongi, adorable and frightened of seagulls that won’t leave his mind.
Yoongi follows Jimin upstairs to their room when they get back and heads straight for the desk as Jimin kneels down beside his as-yet packed suitcase to pull out pajamas.
“I don’t have a side of the bed,” Yoongi says randomly, flipping through a file folder. “So, pick whichever.”
Jimin hums. He rises to his feet and pauses before entering the bathroom. “Goodnight, Yoongi-ssi.”
Yoongi nods at him but doesn’t look up, his face hidden behind his dark fringe.
He’s gone by the time Jimin comes out of the bathroom.
—
It’s never the same, waking up in a different country. It must be that feeling of wrongness that comes with being halfway across the planet that sticks to your skin just a little more stubbornly in the morning hours, pinching at your brain and reminding you that you are, after all, far away from home.
It’s no different on the first morning Jimin wakes up in halmeoni’s house, although the warmth of the sun spilling over his face, the softness of the blankets, does trick him for a second.
Eventually, he blinks his eyes open, squinting at his surroundings in a sleepy haze as his mind catches up. He groans lowly and tries to turn onto his back, only to find himself held in place by the weight of an arm thrown over his waist.
He blinks down at the pale limb with a frown, studying the dark hair along the back of it, the solid but knobby wrist, and then leans back half an inch and runs into a warm body behind him. The hairs on the nape of his neck flutter as a puff of air tickles his skin.
It takes a moment of half-awake confusion for Jimin to remember where he is and whose arm this must be.
He considers his options—either stay put and suffer through the awkwardness of waking up beside Yoongi or attempt an escape.
It’s not exactly a hard decision to make.
But he’s never been known for his grace, and in trying to sneak out from under the blankets—from under Yoongi’s arm—Jimin ends up jostling Yoongi awake instead.
His husband pulls back his arm and for a moment Jimin doesn’t move. Then, realizing there’s no good way out of this, he sighs and flops back, bracing himself for the awkwardness.
“’Morning,” he says quietly, peering over his shoulder.
Yoongi blinks slowly, deliberately, as if clicking the shutter of a camera, carefully absorbing the situation they’ve found themselves in.
“Sorry,” he says in a scratchy, sandpapery voice. His hand lays limp between them, his normally sharp eyes softer around the edges, his cheeks lined with pillow creases.
Jimin waves him off as if it’s no big deal. “S’fine. Happens.” Yoongi looks dubious, so Jimin clears his throat and asks, “How late did you stay up?”
He’s croaky too, but his own voice doesn’t sound nearly as darkly charming and rough as Yoongi’s.
“’Til five,” Yoongi replies. He closes his eyes in a slow blink. “Then, halmeoni and Nurse Kim woke up and made me end my meeting.”
A wisp of a smile flutters over Jimin’s lips. “Did the call go well?”
Yoongi nods. His cheek is smooshed against the pillow and his stubble makes a scratchy sound against the cotton pillowcase. “Well enough.”
“That’s good.”
In the ensuing silence, Jimin’s eyes trail up to the low popcorned ceiling of the guest room. Flecks of beige paint are peeling along the edges of the overhead light, betraying the weariness of the house.
Jimin heaves another sigh before sitting up and shaking off the last dregs of sleep clutching to him.
“Go back to sleep,” he tells Yoongi with a sidelong glance.
Yoongi makes a sound of agreement, allowing his eyes to drift closed once again as Jimin slips out of bed and readies himself for the day.