Work Text:
Monday, 10:30 pm
Jimin buries his face in his hands, but he refuses to give in completely and faceplant on his desk. His original plan was to get everything done and just eat at home, but that was before he’d discovered an error that has to be fixed before tomorrow. He’s now hungry and stuck and tired. The delivery should be here soon, so he’s giving himself a brief BRIEF break of whining until the food gets here.
“Delivery for Park Jimin?”
Too brief. Jimin sighs loudly and rubs his eyes. “Yes, you can leave it there.” He gestures blindly to a space on the desk, wanting to avoid reality just a little longer.
When he finally drops his hands and opens his eyes, the food is on the table and the delivery man has left. He lets out another loud, slightly dramatic sigh, and then opens the file to review again while eating his sad taco salad.
—
Tuesday, 11:15 pm
“Long day?”
Jimin looks up at the voice, not realizing anyone else was present. He’s been so immersed in his work that he hadn’t heard the elevator ding, the door open, the footsteps approach… he holds back another sigh. He realizes the person is still waiting for a response, so he shakes his head to clear out the numbers and says, “Yes, unfortunately.” His voice trails off when he actually looks at the delivery guy in front of him—a man he can’t believe he didn’t notice walk in. Broad shoulders, expressive eyes, pierced lip, long legs—he tries not to stare, but his fatigue is making him less in control of his impulses.
The man says, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I just, I was the one who delivered the food yesterday, so I was just saying—”
“No, don’t apologize! I’m just out of it. Thank you for the food.” Jimin internally berates himself for making the moment uncomfortable. He takes the food and thanks him again. He watches him walk away and sighs loudly--something he seems to be doing far too often these days. The man is totally his type, and in another life he would’ve immediately flirted and asked for his number. Unfortunately, these other numbers are overwhelming him, so he simply opens up his sad burrito bowl and eats mindlessly while getting back to work.
—
Wednesday, 8:54 pm
“I guess you’re my regular delivery man now,” Jimin says with a tired smile. It’s earlier than his past few orders, and Jimin isn’t sure if that’s a good thing. It’s earlier because Jimin knows he’s going to be there for hours more, so he’s basically admitting that he’s not going home tonight. The fact that this attractive delivery man is the highlight of his day so far is just sad.
“Looks like. I’m Jeongguk,” he says, dimple popping out with his smile.
Jimin’s smile gets even brighter. “Jimin. Thank you for all your hard work.” Instead of disappearing into his work with his food, he takes the opportunity to stand up and stretch a little. He hears his back pop a few times, and he sighs. He starts taking the food out and then notices that Jeongguk is lingering. He looks up, an inquisitive look on his face.
“It looks like you’re doing a lot more hard work than I am,” he says, moving to help Jimin unpack the rest of the food.
“Eh,” Jimin says, cracking his neck. “I think more people appreciate what you do. I’m definitely one of them.”
“I can tell from your tips. Thank you so much.” Jeongguk smiles uncertainly before continuing. “Um, since you’re so generous with your tips, let me give you a tip. No amount of hot sauce is going to make this taste better.”
Startled by the comment, Jimin can’t help but burst into laughter. It feels good, just laughing with his whole body. Shaking his head, Jimin says, “They really are so bad. I just make so many decisions throughout the day that I don’t feel like making another one.”
Jeongguk nods thoughtfully, his face still bright with the victory of making Jimin laugh. “You know…” he trails off, playing with his lip piercing.
“Yes?” Jimin prompts, fondly looking at this person who isn’t part of the corporate mess that has taken over almost every minute of his life.
“I could bring you something better tomorrow. If you’re going to be ordering out every night, I could—I could make the decision for you.”
Jimin furrows his brow thoughtfully. “How would you do that? How would that work if I’m ordering through the app?” He intentionally makes himself sound serious and hesitant. He lets the moment sit for a little and then right as he sees Jeongguk start to answer, he says, “You could just ask for my number, Jeongguk.” He laughs as he sees Jeongguk turn red.
Despite his blushing, Jeongguk says, “Give me your number, Jimin-ssi. Let me bring you something delicious to eat.” He lets his voice drop a little, and then it’s Jimin’s turn to blush a little.
Jimin chuckles and then hands him his phone to enter his contact information. “I’ll text you when I’m ready to order. Would that work?”
Jeongguk quickly adds his info and then texts himself. “Yeah, that works. And if you’re craving something in particular, you could text me with that info.”
“Unlikely,” Jimin says as he takes his phone back and places it on the desk. “These days I just think of food as fuel and not enjoyment. Just something that is filling but not too heavy.”
“These days?” Jeongguk asks. He looks around the office, and Jimin wonders what he sees.
“Yeah, back when I didn’t have to do the work of two people and actually could sit and enjoy food in a place that’s not my desk.” Saying this aloud reminds him of the piles of work still screaming for his attention. “I should get back to it.”
Jeongguk immediately starts heading out of his office. “Of course. I’ll do my best to bring you something good.”
Jimin smiles at him, though his mind is already past the momentary flirtation and onto the next project. “Thank you, Jeongguk-ssi.”
—
Thursday, 11:49 pm
Jimin wants to give Jeongguk more attention when he shows up, big smile on his face, but he’s so stressed that he can’t quite disconnect from his work long enough to chat. “Thank you, Jeongguk-ssi. Leave the receipt so that I can send you money.”
Jeongguk’s smile slips off his face, but Jimin really doesn’t have the energy to address it; he feels too close to a breakdown to deal with someone else’s emotions.
He sees Jeongguk write something on the receipt and leave it in the bag. “Enjoy your food, Jimin-ssi. Try not to work too hard.”
Jimin gives him a quick nod and then gets back to his work.
Later, when he finally allows himself to take a food break, he pulls out the food and sees a paper drop out. What he thought was a receipt is actually a note from Jeongguk.
Jimin-ssi, I hope this food brings a little smile to your face. You deserve to enjoy food again.
Jimin scrunches his eyes tight, not wanting to let himself start to cry. He opens the container and takes a bite of his rice bowl. The textures, the bright flavors, the savory spices on his tongue evoke a memory from college of late nights—but filled with excitement and drive rather than exhaustion and stress. He remembers eating because he wanted to work more, create more, propel himself down this path of success. He eats every bite, and when he’s done he inhales and exhales slowly. The computer screen stares blankly at him, and Jimin wonders what it sees.
—
Friday of the following week, 10:04 pm
It’s been a week of new food—everything from grilled chicken to lamb kabobs to salmon patties to tacos—and Jimin has enjoyed every bite. The nightly deliveries have been the highlight of his busy days, even when he doesn’t—can’t—show it to Jeongguk.
Jeongguk, who has been at the center of these rare moments of joy.
Jeongguk, who seems to know exactly what kind of food Jimin likes.
Jeongguk, who blooms when Jimin smiles at him but slips away quietly when Jimin is close to tears of stress.
Jeongguk, who reminds Jimin that there’s life outside the beige walls of this office building.
He’s beginning to wonder why he isn’t outside these walls more often.
Tonight, Jeongguk shows up with three kinds of kimbap and some ddeokbokki.
“How did you know I was feeling like street food today?” Jimin exclaims, his face lighting up at the food.
Jeongguk merely shrugs and says, “Lucky guess. I feel like I’m always in the mood for street food, so I took a chance on it.”
Jimin quickly dips a piece into the ddeokbokki sauce and shoves it into his mouth. He groans in pleasure. He enjoys the food loudly and then says, “Man, I bet this would taste phenomenal straight from them to my mouth.”
Jeongguk chuckles, lingering the way he has been lately. “Whenever you’re ready to hop on my bike, I’ll take you there.”
“Seriously?” Jimin says, his mouth full.
Perking up at Jimin’s words, Jeongguk immediately nods. “Absolutely. I would take you right now if I could, if you wanted. I’d love to show you the place.”
Jimin chews thoughtfully. “I might actually get out of here at a decent hour today. I mean, if you have time. I’d honestly love to see some of these places you’ve been bringing food from.”
“They’re actually all from the same place,” Jeongguk says haltingly.
“Seriously?” Jimin repeats. “Well then I have to try this place out in person.” He swallows and then wipes his hands. “If I wrap things up in an hour, would you still be willing to go?”
The expression on Jeongguk’s face is sheer pleasure and excitement. “For sure. Definitely. 100% willing to go. I’ll just wait here for you.”
Jimin laughs at his eagerness. “You don’t have to make any more deliveries?” he asks as he packs up the rest of the food to put away. If he’s visiting this place, he doesn’t want to fill up beforehand. He places the containers in the fridge for lunch tomorrow and then plops back down into his chair, trying to get his mind back on work.
“I just won’t pick up any more deliveries. It’s fine. Ignore me. Get back to work so we can go,” Jeongguk says, rolling Jimin closer to his desk to emphasize his point.
Jimin tries not to think about Jeongguk’s large hands on his shoulders. He shoots a finger at Jeongguk, awkwardly telling him he’s getting back to work.
Forty-seven minutes later, Jimin is saving everything and shutting down his computer.
No amount of breathing can prepare Jimin for seeing Jeongguk on his bike.
First of all, it’s not a regular dinky delivery bike. For whatever reason, Jeongguk has a full-size powerful motorcycle. He has saddlebags for the food delivery, but that’s the only similarity to the moped Jimin was imagining perching on. He starts cracking his knuckles at the thought of riding behind Jeongguk.
“Is this how you do your deliveries so quickly?” Jimin asks, still processing the reality of the bike in front of him, not to mention understanding how a delivery man can afford such an expensive-looking motorcycle.
Jeongguk shrugs nonchalantly, handing him a helmet. “Gotta deliver in style.”
Laughing, Jimin says, “Right. Of course.” He slings his bag to his back, fits the helmet on, and then takes a deep breath before swinging a leg over the bike. The shape of the seat causes him to slide right up behind Jeongguk, despite his initial intentions to keep some space between them.
“Have you ridden a motorcycle before?” Jeongguk asks, turning back to check on him.
“No,” Jimin says simply. He doesn’t tell him about all the times he’d considered it, the promises he’d made to get a license once he made enough money to buy one, the fantasies he’d had of riding behind a lover or having someone ride behind him. “Never,” he says.
Jimin listens as Jeongguk quickly gives him tips on how to hold on, how to lean in when he turns, where to rest his feet. He’s attentive, but more to the feel of Jeongguk pressed up against his chest than his voice.
Soon they’re off, rumbling into the night. The skyscrapers fly by, and the streets get grittier. They end up in an area full of life, on the outskirts of the city. Despite the late hour, there’s energy in the air. They swing into a lot, and there’s a crowd surrounding a food truck that has some tables set up around it.
“All the food you got is from this one place?” Jimin says as he removes the helmet and dismounts from the bike.
Jeongguk takes his time with his helmet and his bike. “Yeah, about that.”
Jimin is about to ask what he means, but he’s interrupted by someone yelling, “Hey, boss!”
The man striding towards them is clearly using the term boss loosely, based on the grin on his face, but regardless there’s something that Jeongguk has been hiding.
“Didn’t think you’d make it out today,” the man says, glancing at Jimin and the helmet in his hands. “But it’s good you’re here because we didn’t account for the post-concert crowds. Yoongi could use help, especially since you added those new items to the menu.”
Jimin stares at Jeongguk, who’s still fiddling with his helmet. He has a million questions, but he waits for Jeongguk to reply.
“Ok, Hobi-hyung. Tell Yoongi-hyung I’ll be right there.”
“Great!” Hobi says, smacking his shoulder affectionately. “When the orders settle down, you can tell me more about this,” he says as he wiggles his hand in Jimin’s general direction. He walks off before Jeongguk can say anything.
“So…surprise?” Jeongguk shrugs sheepishly.
“Boss?” Jimin says finally, after holding back everything. “Are you even a delivery guy?”
“I am! I swear I am. I just…do more than deliver food.” He finally puts his helmet down and looks like he’s about to launch into an explanation, but Jimin cuts him off.
“No, you can tell me later because I want the long story, and right now Yoongi-hyung is waiting.” He moves his hand to usher Jeongguk towards the food truck, but he smiles at him to show that he’s not mad about the unexpected turn of events.
Jeongguk chuckles to himself and says, “Okay. Later, then. You’re ok with sticking around?” They start walking towards the food truck, the delicious smells making Jimin hungry.
“Absolutely. 100%,” he says, an echo of Jeongguk’s earlier excitement.
Jeongguk enters the kitchen, and it takes everything—EVERYTHING—for Jimin not to whimper when he sees Jeongguk emerge in the window, clad only in a tank top and an apron. One arm is fully covered in tattoos, and his chest and biceps are even better than Jimin had imagined. He is clearly not the only one appreciative of the new view, based on the hoots that go up in the crowd. They seem to know what a treat it is to have Jeongguk there; there’s a buzz that sweeps through the crowd. Jimin hears snippets of conversations, about Jeongguk’s skills as a chef, his unique flavors, his forearms, his smile. Jimin can’t help but agree with all of it, and he sits there thinking about the Jeongguk he’s gotten to know—the delivery man with crinkly smiles and quiet support—versus the man in front of him cooking with confidence and even cockiness. He stares unabashedly, and he’s not sure which view he appreciates more at this point. There’s his broad shoulders and strong back when he’s working the fryer and burners; there’s the front view of his capable hands seasoning the food with flair and presenting the dishes with a smile. They’re both devastating, and Jimin feels almost embarrassed by the way his face is staring at him appreciatively.
After the initial shock has worn down, Jimin starts looking around at the crowd, the energy of the late night eaters, the joy that seems to reverberate in the night air. He doesn’t see run-down zombies plodding home after an exhausting day. He sees people dressed in all types of ways: clubbers who are exquisite with style, made up with the purpose of drawing attention, diving into food while holding their hair back; students in hoodies and backpacks, scarfing down food with relish; office employees still in work clothes, ties loosened and hair pulled into ponytails, chatting and chewing and smiling. How much has Jimin been missing while typing away at a computer, alone in his stress?
It makes him sit and think about how his work has spiraled out of control. He’d been content with his job, feeling satisfied with his projects and working towards promotions. When his superior had suddenly quit, he’d been tasked with taking up more and essentially becoming the interim supervisor. Suddenly he was doing his own work as well as managing others, and the sheer amount of work was wearing him down. It hadn’t occurred to him to say something; he was so used to doing all that was asked of him, doing it well, and then being praised for it. Those things were still happening, but at what cost?
Does his boss know how he is killing himself to do this job? Everything Jimin does turns to gold, but is he turning to stone as a result? He sinks into the patio chair, stretches out his shoulders, and cracks his neck. All these thoughts are swirling around in his mind, and he knows he's going to have to make changes soon. Instead of pondering life-altering decisions, Jimin decides he’ll start small and think about food instead.
He gets in line and scans the menu. The chalkboard has specials, and he sees some of the things he’s sampled in the past week, things Jeongguk has delivered to him. When he gets to the front of the line, he’s greeted with a sweaty Jeongguk, who leans forward on his forearms to greet him. Yoongi motions with his head to have Jimin move to the side so that they can chat while he takes the next customer’s order.
Jimin grins at him, even as he notices the sweat beading around his collarbones. “Busy night?”
Jeongguk huffs and then cracks his knuckles. “It’s been a while since I’ve done the late night rush, but I’m having fun. You’re not too bored?”
“Nope! But I am hungry. What should I get?” Jimin asks innocently. “I’m so used to someone else ordering for me that I’m at a loss.”
After rolling his eyes, Jeongguk gives him a cheeky wink and says, “I’ll choose for you. Someone told me I have good taste when it comes to food.”
Jimin’s cheeks feel like they’re going to be sore by the way he’s smiling so much. He moves towards Yoongi, getting out his wallet, but Yoongi just shakes his head. “I’ve been told not to take any of your money. I’m Yoongi, by the way. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Yoongi gives him a knowing smile, and Jimin catches Yoongi’s sly looks and implications.
“Interesting, since I didn’t even know you existed before today! I’m looking forward to getting to know you more though,” Jimin says, meeting Yoongi’s energy. They both grin at Jeongguk’s protests. Jimin puts some bills into the tip jar and then swiftly moves to the side before either can say anything.
While he waits for his food, Jimin messes around on his phone, trying to fight the exhaustion that’s slowly weighing down his shoulders. He suddenly feels lighter when he smells food placed in front of him. He looks up to see Jeongguk sitting in front of him.
“I figured I should still be the one delivering your food,” he says with a smile. “You’ll have to tell me if it tastes better fresh from the source.”
Without a word, Jimin digs into the food, and Jeongguk is rewarded with Jimin’s loud moans of pleasure—which he immediately feels embarrassed about.
Jeongguk laughs happily. “No, no, just let it out. Sounds good to me,” he says, eyes flirtatious.
Still slightly mortified, Jimin continues eating. “It’s really good,” he says when he finally stops for breath. “So delicious. I can’t believe you’ve been making all this food for me.”
“Well, I just couldn’t sit back and watch you eat that terrible food. It was offensive,” Jeongguk replies, swiping a piece of ddeokbokki for himself.
“So since I’m busy stuffing my face, why don’t you tell me how you ended up delivering food if you’re this amazing chef?” Jimin asks, pulling open another container of goodies.
Jeongguk taps his fingers on the table for a moment and then shrugs. “Well, I went to culinary school, did the whole work experience in different kitchens, eventually moved up the ladder and somehow ended up as a head chef in this incredible restaurant. It was really high-end, really expensive, really innovative and delicious—and I just hated it. Even though I loved the restaurant manager and learned so much from the staff and the other chefs, I just didn’t like working there. It was so exhausting, and the stress of developing new menu items and maintaining the level of expectation was so much. It got to the point where I was losing my love of cooking. I felt like a robot in the kitchen, and I didn’t want to keep living like that. So I quit.”
Jimin takes a big swallow and looks up. “Just like that?”
Jeongguk bites his lips, fiddling with his piercing, and then says, “Sort of? I mean, I tried to quit. The manager had a long talk with me, and I told him how I was feeling about everything. I’m one of the youngest chefs out there, and I felt like I was going to burn out really quickly if I didn’t make a change. So he asked if I’d be interested in doing something like this—” Jeongguk gestures to the food truck. “Sort of like an off-shoot of their restaurant. It’s still mine for the most part in terms of the menu and the cooking and everything, but I don’t have to be stuck in that kitchen, and there’s less pressure to get another Michelin star. I sometimes cook here, and sometimes I have Yoongi cook instead. We bounce ideas off each other, and Hobi helps with the marketing and register. He’s the one that makes sure everything runs smoothly.” He steals another bite of Jimin’s food. “I do the delivery stuff on the side just to get ideas on what is popular these days. I see what people are ordering, the kind of people who stay in rather than go out, the timelines of when the orders are higher or lower. It’s a way to stay moving, but I don’t do it that often.”
“You don’t? But you were my delivery guy, like, three days in a row before we actually started talking.”
Jeongguk blushes and then clears his throat awkwardly. “Well, I wanted to see what kind of food you liked.”
“Jeon Jeongguk,” Jimin says sternly, waiting for Jeongguk to make eye contact with him, and then smiling brightly. “Jeon Jeongguk, are you trying to make me blush?”
“Well, seems fair considering how much you make me blush,” he mutters, eyes lowered again. “Do you like the food?”
“You couldn’t tell by my pornographic moans?” Jimin says teasingly. “Yes, it was delicious. And even more incredible now that I know you made all that food yourself.” He takes the last bite of food and then lets out a long, satisfied sigh. “Thank you for sharing your story with me, too. It’s inspiring.” He sits up, fidgeting with his fingers before finally reaching out and resting his hand on Jeongguk’s. “The way you’re so happy right now, the way your food is filled with that happiness—eating your food has given me a taste of that. And my life has been pretty shitty these days, so I really appreciate it. I appreciate you.” He hopes the sincerity is in his eyes because his heart is in his throat. He gives Jeongguk’s hand another squeeze and then leans back again. “Speaking of my shitty life, I should probably head home. I have another long day ahead of me.”
“Even though it’s Saturday?” Jeongguk says, reaching for the empty food containers to throw them away.
“Yeah, I have things that need to be done by Monday.” He takes a napkin and wipes his hands and mouth.
“Jimin-ssi,” Jeongguk says quietly, almost pleadingly, but Jimin doesn’t let him say more.
“Nope. Not now,” Jimin interrupts. “Or, rather, not yet, okay? I know. But I can’t deal with that right now. I have too much to do to think about anything else.” Jimin gives him a tired smile. “I can take the bus back, so you can finish up here.”
“No, Yoongi-hyung has everything under control, and the orders are slowing down anyway. I can take you home.”
The ride home is quiet. The excitement of riding behind Jeongguk has given way to an exhaustion that is both physical and mental; Jimin gives into the urge to hold Jeongguk tightly and close his eyes to everything else. When Jeongguk slows to a stop in front of Jimin’s apartment complex, he turns off the engine and faces him.
“Thank you for coming with me, Jimin-ssi. I know you’re busy.”
Jimin hands him his helmet and says, “It was worth it. And I think you can call me Jimin-hyung, if you want.”
“Maybe,” Jeongguk says. “Maybe if you come out with me again?” When he takes the helmet, he takes Jimin’s hand as well, and he lingers a bit.
“I’ll try. I definitely want to,” Jimin says softly. He squeezes Jeongguk’s hand and then moves back. “Thank you for showing me your world.”
Smiling softly, Jeongguk gives him a nod and then motions that he’ll wait for Jimin to enter his building.
Jimin waves again and then turns to go inside. He doesn’t hear the motorcycle drive away until he enters the elevator. When he steps inside and presses the number to his floor, he finally lets himself sink into the fatigue of the day, and he wonders how long he can keep this up.
—
Saturday of the following week, 11:15 pm
“Jimin-ssi?”
Jimin startles at the voice that he hasn’t heard in a few days. After their excursion, Jimin had texted Jeongguk to say he would be out of town a few days for a quick work trip, but the week has flown by; Jimin hasn’t texted since then.
“I’m sorry if this is out of line, but I saw the light on in your office and thought I’d stop by. I haven’t heard from you in a while.” Jeongguk is standing in his office doorway, his voice slightly hesitant. “Did I—is everything okay?”
“Jeongguk, hi,” he says, blinking as if trying to figure out what’s real. “Did I order food?”
Jeongguk deflates a little. “No, you didn’t. I don’t have food with me. I just saw the light in your office and wanted to check on you. I see you’re busy, so I’ll just talk to you later. Text me if you want a delivery.”
He turns to leave, but Jimin suddenly calls out.
“No, wait! Don’t go,” he says quickly. “Just wait,” Jimin repeats, typing rapidly on his computer. “You just took me by surprise. I was actually wrapping up here. Can you give me, like, 15 minutes?”
“Sure,” Jeongguk says quietly, still cautious in his response. “You don’t have to, though. You can just text me later.”
“No, seriously, I’m glad you’re here. It’s perfect, actually. I just need to do a few things, but stay. Or if you can’t? Sorry, if you have stuff to do, I can catch up with you later.”
“No, I don’t have anything. I can wait. I just didn’t want to impose.”
They both stop when they realize what’s happening. Jimin gives him a genuine, if tired, smile. “Jeongguk-ah. It’s really good to see you. Wait for me, will you?”
Jeongguk smiles back. “I’ll be right here.”
Fifteen minutes turn into forty, but eventually Jimin shuts everything down and heads towards where Jeongguk is sitting. “Okay! I’m done. Will you take me for a ride on that sexy bike of yours and feed me?”
Jeongguk giggles and stands up. “Words I was waiting to hear you say.”
Soon they arrive at Jeongguk’s food truck. Jeongguk heads inside, and Jimin comes up to the front to order. He ignores the looks he’s getting from Yoongi and Hobi and instead looks at the menu.
“Don’t look at the menu! I’m going to make you something else,” Jeongguk calls out as he ties his apron.
“Yeah, that menu is sad, just like the owner,” Yoongi says drily. “Something tells me we’re going to get a few new items, though.”
“I hope so,” Jimin says, more to himself than to anyone else, but Yoongi hears him.
“I hope so, too, Jimin-ssi. I hope so, too.” Yoongi passes over a kabob. “Something to eat while you wait.”
“Thank you,” he says, and then Jimin goes over to a table to wait for his surprise food.
Soon, Jeongguk is before him with steaming food on a plate. It’s delicious, as usual, and they’re chatting about inconsequential things, despite the elephant sitting at the table with them.
Jimin is wiping the last bit of food off the plate, and he finally looks at Jeongguk, really looks at him.
“I quit my job.”
“What?” Jeongguk replies, shocked.
“Well, I sort of quit. I told my superiors that I couldn’t do it anymore and that I was giving my two weeks notice unless things changed. Remember when I went out of town?”
Jeongguk nods. “Yeah, Monday.”
“Yeah, I talked to them that morning, and then I went out of town to get some things set up so that I could delegate my duties in a more permanent way. They didn’t know how much extra work I was doing, and they definitely didn’t want to lose me. So now I got a promotion, but I also will have less work on my plate!” Jimin waves his hands in victory. “Today really should be the last late night at that office.”
Cheering, Jeongguk says, “That’s so great! Seriously, Jimin-ssi. I’m so happy for you. I’ll miss our late-night delivery times, though.” He gives an exaggerated sigh and pouts a little.
“Well,” Jimin says slowly, voice tinged with insecurity. “Though I might not have late nights at the office anymore, I was kind of hoping to still have late nights with you,” he says, his eyes searching Jeongguk’s face for his response.
Jeongguk is startled into silence, and Jimin is about to backtrack when Jeongguk reaches forward and wipes his thumb against Jimin’s full lips. “Sorry, you had something there.” He sucks his thumb and then says in a low voice, “Yeah, I’d love to have more late nights with you.”
Jimin takes a while to respond, his mind still stuck on the way Jeongguk’s tongue peeked out, but he manages a hopeful but throaty “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Jeongguk replies, his eyes smiling almost as widely as his mouth. “I mean, if you’re this messy, we’ll need lots of late nights to teach you how to eat properly.” He giggles as Jimin reaches forward to punch his shoulder; he grabs Jimin’s hand then reaches forward to pull Jimin’s chair closer to him.
“You surprised me. It looked like you were gonna ghost me after I showed you my food truck,” he says quietly, his voice vulnerable.
“No, it was the opposite. Your story made me realize that I didn’t have to just work myself to exhaustion. I could do something about it. I wanted what you had,” Jimin murmurs, his fingers gently tucking Jeongguk’s hair behind his ear. “I wanted you, too,” he adds, his thumb grazing Jeongguk’s lip.
“I wanted you from the first time I saw you, and you didn’t even see me.” Jeongguk chuckles as he leans into Jimin’s hand. “Your hands were covering your eyes, like you were trying to avoid reality, and all I could think about was what your mouth would feel like.”
Jimin smacks his chest teasingly. “I can’t believe you were objectifying me when I was grappling with my work stress.”
“Well, I didn’t think I would see you again. When I did, I realized I wanted to feed that mouth,” Jeongguk protests, avoiding another smack.
“So you don’t want to know what my mouth feels like anymore, now that you’ve fed me?” Jimin says, his voice turning husky.
“No, I—”
Jimin interrupts him with a kiss, a long, lingering kiss that leaves each breathless and yearning for more.
“Just a taste,” Jimin whispers before leaning forward to steal another quick kiss.
—
Sunday, 6:13 am
“Sorry, go back to sleep. I just forgot to turn off my alarm,” Jimin whispers, reaching over Jeongguk to turn off his phone’s alarm.
Jeongguk groans in response, but when Jimin tries to go back to his side of the bed, Jeongguk doesn’t let him. He slides his hand down to Jimin’s ass and squeezes a little before rolling them and nuzzling into Jimin’s neck.
Jimin chuckles and then pets Jeongguk’s hair fondly. “I’m not going anywhere. Sleep, baby,” he murmurs.
The sun rises, but they stay in bed, nestled in each other, uncaring of the bustling world around them. For the first time in a long while, Jimin rests.