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“With all due respect, this is a very serious problem.” Jimin’s manager is peering at him over his glasses in a way that makes Jimin’s stomach churn. Everyone has been talking to him like he’s a naughty child for the past twelve hours on the phone, and now in person. He knows it’s a crisis. The meeting is literally called a crisis meeting. He wishes he knew what to do with his face to convey that he sufficiently understands this to his team, who seem to have all crowded into this conference room to glare at him.
“With all due respect, you’ve said that six times.” Jimin says tersely, fingers tapping on the table, “I’ve got my notes app open and ready, I’m willing to work with whatever angle you want me to take. Can we please move beyond the admonitions into the plan? Is there a plan? Or were you hoping one would materialize out of thin air while you were scolding me?”
The frowns deepen. Jimin takes a deep breath. It’s times like this when his job seems like a curse, or a prison instead of the thing he deeply loves and has committed his soul to.
“I just don’t understand how you could be so careless.” His manager says again. Again.
Jimin’s ears darken red as he drops his eyes to the article on the table. It is rough.
“Even if we manage to squash the publication, there will be others. The news is already leaking out through gossip blogs and message boards. Your reputation will take a considerable hit.” He pauses, probably for added drama, “The label might even hold your next comeback.”
“Plenty of people in the industry date and go out…it’s not like it’s a secret.” Jimin mutters before he can stop himself. He knows it won’t help to be defensive. He knows it won’t help to bristle at these comments. He knows he’s in for a lot longer than one crisis meeting’s worth of scolding. He knows. And yet.
“You’re not plenty of people. You’re Park Jimin, the nation’s sweetheart and squeaky-clean heartthrob. What other people do you just cannot. You cannot serially sleep around; you definitely can’t forget to make your hookups sign NDAs. You just can’t.” The manager brandishes the paper, and there it is, splashed across the page “Park Jimin’s One Night Stand Tells All” “You can’t, but you did, and now you get to sit there and let us clean up this mess and you say thank you and do exactly what we say, got it?”
“Yes.” Jimin says sullenly.
“Yes and?” His manager scowls at him.
Jimin boils in his seat. He wants to whip his phone at this smug dick’s face and storm out—to hell with all this bullshit—but instead, “Yes, and thank you.”
The team turns to talk among themselves for a moment, pointedly ignoring him, so Jimin has nothing else to do but read over and over again the sordid details of a night he thought was just for fun three weeks ago with a person whose name he barely remembers. It’s not like he’s not more careful, usually. Usually he brings the forms, remembers to keep it low key, doesn’t let them take pictures or video or anything.
But this time he’d left the studio incredibly frustrated after he’d been steamrolled into changing his lyrics for a fifth time and just needed to dance, needed to drink, needed to be somebody else for a while. He’d danced until his legs were shaky, he’d drank until the lights were on constant motion blur, and he’d escaped himself in the arms of a pretty boy half a head shorter than him who’d kissed with mostly teeth and pressed Jimin against the wall of his shower to clumsily fuck his thighs. It wasn’t even a particularly wild night. But now, as Jimin fidgets with the mock-up of the article, it seems so lewd and degenerate in bold black lettering that he feels like some perverted weirdo for having a drunken hookup well into his 20s. It doesn’t help that there’s substantially more on the page than sloppy shower frottage: Toothy kiss what’s-his-name took some creative liberties with what went on between them. A few more handcuffs and foot jobs than Jimin would have strictly liked to see…especially since he doesn’t particularly like feet.
Maybe he should count himself lucky the guy didn’t say Jimin peed on him or something.
It’s ridiculous, but beyond that it’s embarrassing. It’s humiliating to be lied about in such a personal and private way. He can’t even correct these mistruths; how silly would it be to go on tv and screech “nuh-uh!! You’re lying about your fingers in my ass and you’re lying about me asking to get choked!!” At least he hopes that’s not remotely close to the plan. His parents are already going to have to hear about it…this is one of those times it wouldn’t be better to hear it directly from him on a talk show. Jimin knows he said he’d say thank you and go along with whatever they want but he knows a bad idea when he sees one.
So, when his manager clears his throat and says, “Show him in.” and the door swings open to reveal Jeon Jungkook: rapper, playboy, fresh off his own scandal regarding motorcycles and public nudity, Jimin is staring down the barrel of an extremely bad idea.
“Jungkook-ssi, have you met my client, Park Jimin?” Jimin’s manager’s tone has taken a decidedly more friendly swoop up as he addresses the new addition to the room.
Jeon Jungkook, tattoos prominently swirling down his arm, 8 or so piercings in each ear, turns a striking, probing gaze on Jimin, scans him from head to toe, and shrugs, “We’ve met.”
Jimin, who is experiencing an out-of-body experience, knows that they’ve met. Briefly. At awards shows and industry functions, and only ever as a “Jimin-ah have you met Jungkook-ssi?” and they’d bow and exchange pleasantries until one or both of them would get dragged away to meet other people. What Jimin knows about Jeon Jungkook could fit on a sticky note. What they have in common could fit on a sticky note 1/3 the size.
“What is going on?” Jimin asks, slow on the uptake, not knowing what he’s supposed to surmise about this random industry colleague crashing his crisis meeting.
Jimin’s manager exchanges a knowing glance with Jungkook’s manager. “We think our teams will be able to help each other out. Both of you could benefit from an…arrangement.”
“What kind of an arrangement from a flasher—”
“—I wasn’t even the naked one—” Jungkook grumbles.
“—would POSSIBLY benefit me right now??” Jimin shouts, raising his voice to drown out Jungkook’s interjection.
“We’re doing a little creative image planning.” Jimin’s manager says, as Jungkook and his manager take their seats, “Rehab for both of your reputations, so to speak.”
“And you couldn’t find anyone besides the nude biker to help out?” Jimin hisses.
“Shockingly no one wanted to work with the idol moonlighting as a prostitute.” Jungkook snaps, suddenly, and Jimin glares at him.
“You know?”
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a feet guy.” Jungkook says nastily.
“I’m not.” Jimin mumbles, kind of lamely.
“And I wasn’t nude.” Jungkook insists again.
Jungkook’s manager sighs, “Now if you’re done hurting each other’s feelings can we move on to the plan?” He’s a tall man, deep dimples creasing into his cheeks when he smiles and hands out little folders to everyone in the room. Jimin receives his, flips it open and reads.
“No fucking way.” He says immediately. He looks over at Jungkook suspiciously, “You’ve read this?”
“Yes.”
“You’re OKAY with this?” Jimin is bewildered.
Jungkook makes a sort of helpless hand gesture between their managers, “I don’t really get a say.”
“This can’t be our best idea.” Jimin protests.
“It’s our only idea.” Jungkook grouses. “I just got out of the news cycle that would never end…are you saying you want that for yourself? It’ll be blood in the water for you…with your…image and all. At least my lyrics are about grown man shit from time to time.” He smirks.
Jimin swallows down another biting remark, and instead turns to his manager, “Please tell me this is a sick joke.”
“What’s funny?” His manager says dryly, “Do you see anyone laughing at this mess?”
“But this plan…you want me to DATE him??” Jimin can barely force the words out. This is the most surreal thing he could’ve imagined. He thought he’d make an apology; maybe lay low for a while. This, what he’s reading in this folder, is deranged.
Jimin’s manager doesn’t seem to agree, “This is the way to immediately control the narrative and give the press something else to latch onto and leave your other scandals in the water. It’s going to help both of you; Jungkook can seem more romantic and approachable, and you can shed the reputation of hooking up with randoms all over town, while looking a little edgier in a tantalizing way to your fans. Win-win. And in a losing streak like this, you take the wins.”
Jimin looks around the table in disbelief at all the grown men nodding along like he’s said something profound.
“But…why do I have to date him?” Jimin bleats, already with less conviction.
“Aw, baby, don’t be like that.” Jungkook is looking unbearably smug, “I’ll treat you nice I promise.”
Jimin flips him off. “You’ve all lost your minds.”
“Granted. Now let’s go through the rules, Jimin.” His manager pointedly opens his folder.
“I am not agreeing to this.” Jimin maintains, over the rustle of everyone opening and reading the paperwork.
“You already have, assuming you still want a career tomorrow and don’t want the label to cut ties with you right here and right now. You play ball our way, or it’s game over.” Jimin’s manager says, and everyone in the room stops to appraise Jimin’s reaction.
Jimin swallows hard and drops his eyes to the folder.
“Yeah, sweetheart.” Jungkook says and Jimin can physically feel his hair on the back of his neck stand on end, “Let’s play ball.”
Jimin’s ears are still ringing, and he has the strong sensation that he’s underwater when the crisis meeting concludes. Pencil pushers and corporate types of all stripes get up to leave from the meeting where Jeon Jungkook and Park Jimin started dating to save their careers. The room empties until it’s just Jungkook and Jimin and their respective managers. Jungkook’s manager steps forward, “Why don’t we give them a minute to chat, just them? I’m sure it’s been an overwhelming day. Jungkook-ah, I’ll come get you in about 20.” He plants a firm hand on Jimin’s manager’s shoulder and steers him, mildly protesting, out into the hall until Jimin and Jungkook are very much alone.
Jungkook sighs and rolls his eyes and rocks back and forth in his chair, fidgety. Jimin watches him warily. After a few minutes he can’t take it,
“Seriously. Why are you doing this?” Jimin says.
“I told you; the same reason you are. I like my job, and this is the way I don’t lose it.” Jungkook says, sounding and looking annoyed.
“But this is crazy. Like it’s actually insane…you know that right?” Jimin flips through the folder.
“Oh definitely. But I meant what I said. It really can’t be any worse than sitting there as the media and news flat out lie about you for eight weeks and suddenly people don’t want to do features and producers won’t return your calls. It’s cold out here if you don’t play the game their way.” Jungkook pulls his own folder close. “Rules for Public Decorum,” he reads out loud, “Firstly, party A—” he looks up at Jimin, “—that’s me I guess—and party B—” he points at Jimin, “Will not participate in any social activities up to and including dining, mingling, and recreation without the other in attendance.” He makes a face, “I can’t believe they’re really going to make us go everywhere together.”
“They were lying about you? What really happened?” Jimin hones in on that tidbit. It’s another thing to add to the sticky note.
“What did you hear?” Jungkook quirks an eyebrow at him, “You follow my scandals?”
Jimin, for about the hundredth time this day, is off-kilter, “Not like that! It’s just kind of been everywhere.”
Jungkook tilts his head with a significant look, clearly trying to convey how much it sucked and how much he would do to get away from it.
“The story I got was that you and a…companion were drunk and naked riding your motorcycle around your parking garage.”
“Companion.” Jungkook snorts, “Tell me you’re a virgin without telling me.”
“If you know why we’re here you know I’m not.”
“Oh, so you’re telling me the things I’ve heard about you are true?”
“No.” Jimin says quietly, “So what was the truth for you?”
“A guy I was dating got very drunk at my house I went to give him a ride home and while we were pulling out of the garage he took off his goddamn pants and threw them at a police car.” Jungkook explains, succinctly.
“Wait, you weren’t even drunk?” Jimin startles.
“Blew a 0.0 but shockingly the gossip rags didn’t seem to get their hands on that particular info. And it’s not like I have a big label like you to shield me. I just had to stand in it and take it.” Jungkook says, tone bitter.
“I’m sorry.” Jimin says honestly, “That really is terrible, especially since you just had to listen to them get it wrong on purpose. That’s awful, I’m so sorry you had to go through all that.” He grits his teeth, “And now this too, I guess.”
Jungkook blinks at him, looking surprised, “Oh—uh. It’s whatever I mean…” he rubs at his neck, “…thank you.” He jerks his chin at the folder, “So what about you? What really happened with you?”
“Oh.” Jimin blushes again. He should really get used to it, he supposes. But it’s still hard to talk about this stuff.
Jungkook senses his discomfort but isn’t cruel about it, “Did you actually even know this guy?”
“Kind of? I did meet him and hook up with him—I went to a hotel with him. It’s just the details…we didn’t do…basically any of that.” Jimin says sheepishly. The lurid details are infuriating, but he feels a little sheepish with Jungkook’s situation being such a blatant mischaracterization.
“Damn, you mean he didn’t handcuff you and you didn’t beg to be choked? That’s a shame, now I’m rethinking fake dating you: I thought you were a freak.” Jungkook says, but it’s definitely teasing, and the soft smile on his face makes it good-natured instead of antagonizing.
“We made out a bit and fooled around in the shower. He, uh, got off using my thighs and then he blew me. We were too drunk and tired to do anything serious. Apparently, I was too drunk and tired to remember to pull out the NDA, and then I went home.” Jimin recounts, mortified.
“Wait, seriously? Like seriously seriously?” Jungkook sounds angry, “This guy made it seem like 50 shades of gray over a little drunken friction? What an asshole.”
Jimin hitches a shoulder, “My fault for not vetting him I guess, assholes aren’t in short supply when fame is a possibility.”
“Being an idol seems really frustrating.” Jungkook says, “Are you sure your fans will be able to handle you fake dating someone like me?”
“It’s either you, or endless media coverage of some dude who wrote fanfiction about me calling him daddy.” Jimin says tiredly. “It’s a lesser of two evils at this point.”
Jungkook studies him for a long moment, “You’re a good-looking guy. Rich. Talented.”
“Uh…thanks?” Jimin says hesitantly, “Why are you—”
“You could find a nice person to date for real; like long term and understands the challenges of your job. People are probably lined up down the block for the chance: why the fuck are you hooking up with random assholes in clubs?” Jungkook sounds flat confused.
“Oh.” Jimin looks away.
“I’ve made you uncomfortable. You don’t have to tell me.” Jungkook says quickly.
“No, we’re fake dating. We shouldn’t start off hiding things from each other.” Jimin sucks in his bottom lip briefly before he decides to be honest, “I like it. I like the spontaneity; it feels dirty and exciting. Normally I can kinda push all that down, but it was just…my job seemed really hard that day and I really needed to be somebody else; somebody who could drink too much and fuck a stranger just for the hell of it. It’s not a good excuse. But. It’s the truth.”
Jungkook is watching him intently now with a slightly darker focus. Jimin’s explanation sits between them.
“What?” Jimin can’t help but to ask when the silence stretches out long, it’s making him insecure, like maybe he shouldn’t have been honest.
Jungkook takes a deep breath to respond, but is interrupted by his dimpled manager poking his head in,
“You boys getting along good? Good.” He says, without waiting for anyone to answer, “Gguk-ah, if you want studio time you have about thirty before we’ll have to wrestle Yoongi for it.”
Jungkook gets to his feet and Jimin follows suit, clutching his folder.
Jimin’s manager appears in the doorway as well, “Exchange numbers, you two. Tomorrow you’re going for coffee and then you’re going to go to dinner and dancing. If you want to brainstorm how to make it believable that would be a good use of your time as well as familiarizing yourself with the rules.”
Jimin pulls out his phone, automatically complying, and steps over closer to Jungkook. In closer proximity, Jungkook smells nice, like sandalwood—his cologne must be expensive. He’s also that much more intense up close, with those big eyes and tons of piercings. Jungkook sweeps him with another piercing gaze before holding out his hand for Jimin’s phone to put his number in. The managers step away, talking quietly.
“What were you going to say?” Jimin asks, “Before the managers interrupted.”
Jungkook pushes his tongue into his cheek for a beat before chuckling. He hands Jimin back his phone but holds on a beat longer to keep Jimin from pulling away, bringing his face right up to Jimin’s ear, “I was going to say something I shouldn’t, but for right now I’ll just tell you I’m not so sure that I’m the lesser evil.”
By the time he’s back in his apartment, Jimin has gone through anger, denial, bargaining, and acceptance over the situation several times. Now he’s just tired, and numb. Tomorrow he’s basically starting a new career as an actor, but the project is his personal life.
He hadn’t been paying attention when Jungkook was reading the rules; he especially hadn’t been paying attention when his manager was reading the rules. Now that’s he’s gotten a good look at them for himself it’s worse than he realized. They really can’t go out in public without each other. They have to spend two nights a week at each other’s apartments. They have to post social media posts about each other four times a week. The companies have worked up a timeline for their relationship that will last six months’ worth of events and dates culminating in a vacation together to Sapporo and then a quiet “break up” three weeks later.
Jimin has to admit it will probably fool people, if only because it’s so detailed and deranged everyone will assume it wouldn’t be worth the effort to fake something like this.
If they only knew.
Jimin tosses the offending rule folder on his couch and his jacket on top of it as if to pretend it doesn’t exist, kicks off his shoes, and grabs a beer on his way to the couch. He’s kept his phone turned off all day at his manager’s request, and he’d almost forgotten the reason for that until he powers it up and the notifications start rolling in.
The article isn’t out yet, but some gossip blogs are posting and there’s a blind item here and there that are clearly meant to be about him and his stomach churns. What if he does all this and people see through it anyway? What if he’s about to humiliate himself in some wacky fake dating scheme just to still see the end of his career because of this awful one-night stand?
He downs his beer too fast and opens up a delivery app for food. If he’s going to be miserable, he’s going to be miserable on a full stomach. To hell with his diet; he won’t be performing as an idol for the foreseeable future anyway. He pictures gaining enough weight to make it so Jeon Jungkook begs out of this fake dating, and giggles. He wonders if Jungkook would be the type to try and let him down easy, or would flat-out say they couldn’t date anymore because of Jimin’s appearance.
Jimin catches himself in the middle of this thought and the giggling stops. Three hours into this fake relationship and he’s already worried about how he’ll get dumped. He settles on fried chicken and opens a tab to do some research on his new boyfriend while he waits.
There’s a few eyebrow raisers in the search results, things he wouldn’t have guessed at like that Jungkook apparently loves animals and has a dog. That he’s active in hospital charities.
The rest is the standard rapper profile interviews and commentary on his discography. Jimin listens to a few of his top tracks: he’s good, with a solid flow and bouncy production. At least maybe they’ll have music in common—something to talk about on these fake dates.
Jimin goes and grabs another beer.
The thing about the fake dating— besides everything—is that Jimin isn’t even really that experienced in genuine dating. Since he’s an idol, the only time he would’ve had to date like a normal person would’ve been predebut in high school. And uh. Jimin didn’t really.
He’d known he was gay by middle school. He’d taken a girl to a few school functions, an after school café or two, but when it comes to convincingly portraying two grown men dating…he’s never done it before.
If the assignment was to convincingly pick Jungkook up in a club and take him home for the night only to kick him out in the morning and never call him again Jimin would win an Oscar for the performance. Sheepishly, feeling kind of stupid, he runs some searches for date ideas, how to approach each date, what not to do.
His folder says they’re going for coffee in the morning, at a very public café where a ton of people are sure to see them together. He makes a few lists of first date topics so they have something to talk about. He’s almost completely compartmentalized and sterilized the process in his mind when his food arrives. He’s full and on his fifth beer when, like some kind of demon, the memory of Jungkook’s rather heated confession about not being the lesser of two evils parks itself in Jimin’s frontal lobe and wont budge.
And that is…not so easy to put in a professional box.
The fifth beer disappears and when he opens the sixth he lets himself consciously think about Jungkook’s appearance. He’s hot. It’s not like, a secret or anything and it’s not like Jimin was pretending to be blind but. Well, it’s embarassing to admit you might find your fake boyfriend attractive for real. He smells good, for one, which is a big one as it pertains to Jimin’s taste.
And his tattoos suit him. He has a good sense of personal style. His music is pretty good. He’s very muscular and broad which…is very much Jimin’s type, if he could be said to have one.
Jimin is musing over Jungkook’s lip ring when he’s reminded, forcefully, of the artifice of all of this.
Jungkook texts him.
“Coffee at 11:30, manager says. We’ll meet outside and walk in together.”
Oof. Right. This is dry, and professional. No waxing poetic about Jungkook’s moles or hands or shoulders.
He texts back.
“Got it.”
And goes to bed.
The morning finds Jimin hungover. He appraises himself in his bathroom at 10:45 (missed his alarm) and his eyes are puffy. He looks like how he feels: rough. If this was a real first date he would cancel, he’s definitely not bringing his A game.
As it is, that is not an option.
He showers at lighting speed and does the best he can with his hair and the dryer. He doesn’t have time to do his makeup so he settles for a beanie and big thick-rimmed glasses to maybe distract from the general alcohol haze that permeates his being.
He slips into some slacks and a floaty blue shirt, rolling the sleeves up and popping the top two buttons for a more relaxed look. He grabs one of his watches and his Dior cross body bag. He stumbles out the door at ten past 11 to an extremely unimpressed driver who has clearly been waiting for some time.
He rolls up to the café at 11:40 and hears the angry pings of his manager texting him. He doesn’t have to open the messages to know it’s more lambasting and doomsday prophecies about his career. In a moment they’re the least of his worries because Jungkook is outside the café and he looks annoyed. It’s a little more than fashionably late when you’re both famous. A small gaggle of fans have grouped up, phones out to record Jungkook and there’s a lot of excited squealing that only ratchets up when Jimin steps out of the car and walks toward the rapper.
Jungkook brusquely places a hand on Jimin’s low back to steer him into the café and the girls shriek and Jimin flinches. So far he’s late and jumpy and anyone with a working brain will find his behavior odd.
Jungkook herds him to the counter where they both order coffees and stand there awkwardly silent until their orders are filled and they take them to a table. Jungkook slides into his seat and sucks his teeth.
“Off to a smashing start. Can’t believe you kept me waiting for a fake coffee date.”
Jimin lifts his focus from his Americano to see Jungkook glowering at him.
“Sorry, I got a late start.”
Jungkook rolls his eyes, “Slept in because you were hungover, more like. If you won’t take this seriously why should I?”
Jimin hunches in his seat. “I do…I didn’t mean to be late—“
“—Don’t.” Jungkook says quickly, “Sit up. People are watching, we don’t want them to think we’re bickering twenty minutes into our date.”
Jimin sits up, annoyed, and feeling much less contrite about showing up a few minutes late, “So you get to lecture me on my behavior, but I’m expected to just eat it and pretend we’re talking about where we see ourselves in five years or something?”
“Yep.” Jungkook says smugly, flashing a smile that the fans watching probably don’t know is fake, “Shouldn’t have kept me waiting.”
“You were insecure.” Jimin says, putting the pieces together, “You’re not used to being the one checking your watch and wondering if you’re getting stood up.”
Jungkook’s smile falls off. He narrows his eyes at Jimin. “No. I’m not. The people I date know better than to make me wait.”
“Tough.” Jimin swirls his straw in his coffee, confidence building, “I make everyone wait on me. Especially my boyfriends.” Jimin is fully bluffing but the way Jungkook’s mouth falls open makes him keep going, “You date someone like me, you better be prepared to be humble and grateful—I’m not low maintenance and worried about pleasing you like the groupies you fuck. You and I are the same.” Jimin flashes him his teeth, “I’m just prettier.”
Jungkook’s eyes widen in a moment of pure shock, before he laughs, “If we weren’t contractually obligated, I would never put up with that kind of attitude from someone I date.”
Jimin shrugs again, “So I guess we’ll both be experiencing some new things, because if you think you can boss me around this is going to be a very contentious fake relationship.”
Jungkook nods to himself as he sips his coffee. Jimin’s heart is pounding, despite his brazen confidence.
“I’ve never dated someone as famous as you.” Jungkook says, but mostly to himself, “I didn’t think about how it would be different.”
Jimin snorts, “Less power imbalance, for one.”
Jungkook studies him, “For you too, then.”
Jimin hitches a shoulder, “Eh, it’s not quite the same. I’m not a control freak like you seem to be.”
“Well, that’s because you’re a bottom.”
Jimin chokes on his coffee, and splutters, eyes watering.
It’s Jungkook’s turn to look unbearably smug.
Jimin can feel his cheeks heating up, “Dick.”
“Bet the fans recording are going to zoom in on how red your ears are and write some fascinating theories about what I said.” Jungkook says airily, “You’re welcome by the way, up until now we’ve looked like what we are, two sulky scolded celebrities who want to be anywhere but here.”
Jimin regains his composure, “Oh I don’t know if they’ll notice, I think they’re preoccupied by how often you stare at my lips.”
Jungkook blinks, expression struggling to stay neutral.
Jimin preens, it’s a battle, but an enjoyable one, and he can’t deny he’s loving the back and forth.
“Dick.” Jungkook quips, and they both smile at each other.
Now that they’ve sized each other up, the tension eases.
They hang out and chat for about an hour. The procession of people recognizing them and whipping out phones to record continues the whole time. Jimin is off-kilter, but not because it’s difficult to pretend to be on a date with Jungkook. He’s feeling off because it’s actually very easy. Early on Jimin tentatively brings up music, and the couple of tracks off Jungkook’s last album he listened to, and Jungkook lights up.
He launches into a discussion about production and lyricism and the conversation just flows from there. Jungkook can talk about music forever, it seems. They only talk about his music but that doesn’t surprise Jimin. Rappers can be kind of abrasive when it comes to idol music and they’re getting along well so Jimin doesn’t want to open himself up to scorn—Jungkook had said as much when they first met that he doesn’t take Jimin’s music seriously. If he’s even ever listened to it.
Still though, Jimin has plenty to contribute to the conversation and Jungkook seems pleasantly surprised that Jimin knows what he’s talking about. Jimin wants to be defensive about it but he knows, with embarassing certainty, that he is trying hard to impress his fake boyfriend. Which should probably be a red flag. Whatever.
They’re still deep in conversation when their cars pull up. Their managers actually have to come get them, both of them looking pleased at how Jimin and Jungkook are getting along.
Jungkook calls to him as they head to their separate cars, “Come out with me tonight?”
He’s good at the public part of this.
Jimin sticks his tongue out at him, “We’ll see.” Purposefully provocative.
Jungkook’s smile widens and they both get in their cars.
Jimin’s phone pings after a minute.
Fake bae: Dick.
Despite his teasing, of course they’re still obligated to go out together later that evening. This time Jimin is on time, but it doesn’t matter—there’s still photographers waiting. A line of flashbulbs going off flanks the walkways into the club and Jimin shields his eyes and Jungkook steers him inside again. Much more gently this time.
Jimin suspects they were “anonymously” tipped off, which he supposes is the whole point of this.
They might be out on a date but they’re both still famous and get herded to the VIP area. Once they’re alone again Jimin’s tension comes back. Jungkook is as his peak edgy rapper aesthetic—slim tight tank top with jewelry studding his ears, face, and hands topped with a gaudy leather jacket with studs. His jeans are ripped and artfully faded, showing off the ridiculous taper to his waist. And again, he smells good. Jimin wore a shimmery jacket over a faded band tee and ripped skinnies along with his boots. They look good together—against all odds they look like they belong together.
Everyone is slotting together perfectly. Everything but them.
In the loud club, they can’t even talk to break the awkwardness. For a minute or two after they’ve run the gauntlet of photographers they just stare at each other.
It’s only broken when the cocktail waitress comes in and they both have an excuse to get busy with something else. Namely, drinking.
They take shots together because they can’t talk. They take more shots together to put a flush to their cheeks. And they take even more shots together so one of them will eventually do what Jimin does—which is pull them out to the dance floor where they don’t have to talk.
Jimin presses against Jungkook under the lights, finding that with some liquid courage this night can seem shockingly like many of the nights he’d gone out on his own looking for someone solid enough to grind against.
And if Jungkook is anything, he is that.
After taking a song or two to loosen up he proves to be an excellent dancer, crowding up against Jimin on the dance floor and making his head swim with the heady notes of his cologne. They dance and dance and it doesn’t seem so awkward any more, the fact that this is a performance, the fact that they barely know each other, it can be drowned out by an excellent remix and the way they smile at each other before taking each shot.
All of this is to say, by the time they leave they are very, very drunk. Probably more drunk than either of their managers wanted them to get.
Jimin clings to Jungkook’s arm as they brave the line of photographers again, swaying a bit more on the way out. They both pile into Jungkook’s company car—his manager wincing briefly at how drunk they are before pulling away from the curb and heading to Jungkook’s apartment. All part of the plan of course.
Because of course some photographers follow them. Of course they get some shots of the two of them heading into Jungkook’s apartment together. Of course this is all for their benefit. Just a desperate attempt to save some singers’ careers.
They’re too close. Jimin can smell the heady mix of Jungkook’s cologne and his leather jacket as Jimin toes his shoes off. Jungkook steadies him by the waist and Jimin giggles extra bubbly in case the photographer is still lurking by the door.
The door swings shut. Now the only excuse he can muster for the way he lurches into Jungkook’s foyer, using the walk for support and leans into Jungkook’s hold on him is the alcohol. He can blame this on the alcohol, right?
Jungkook cages him against the wall, himself tipsy enough to gently collide with Jimin’s shoulder as they attempt to make eye contact.
“Stay.” He says, voice a little vague at the edges.
“Mhm.” Jimin obeys.
“Stay for an hour or two…drink some water…hopefully by then the coast will be clear for you… to head home.” Jungkook manages, with colossal effort.
“Mhm.” Jimin says again but even he can hear how his voice has gone flatter.
It has to be the alcohol having him reluctant to leave his fake boyfriend’s house. He can blame the shots they took on Jungkook’s attractive flush and heated glances.
Jungkook leans back and yanks off his silly leather jacket. Jimin can blame the alcohol for the way his eyes roam over Jungkook’s frame in his tight tank. Without looking away, Jungkook leans and fumbles the jacket on a hook behind the door. It makes him lean closer, and Jimin can blame the alcohol for the way he leans along with him, drunk on the sensory experience of Jeon Jungkook up close.
Jimin licks his lips. Jungkook looks at them. Jimin wants to blame the alcohol for the way he likes it, the way he swipes his tongue across the bottom one again just to watch Jungkook follow the movement. And he would very very much like to blame the alcohol when he leans in with shockingly good aim and kisses his fake boyfriend right on his surprised mouth with no one there to see them.
Jimin sobers up in a hurry.
He startles backwards, back thudding against the wall again, “I’m—oh my god—“
Jungkook’s eyes have gone wide, pure shock blowing out his pupils.
Jimin ducks out under Jungkook’s arm—what the fuck were they even doing in this pose—and sprints further into the apartment as his only escape route.
“I’m sorry—“ he chokes out before he skids into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door before he can even see if Jungkook was coming after him.
He plops down on the closed toilet and leans forward, head in his hands and the room spinning.
“What the fuck did I just do.” He mutters.
It’s not just about the kiss. Removed from the sense invasion of Jungkook, Jimin feels more than a little bit stupid about running this way instead of out the door.
Sure, it’s a decision that will preserve their little ruse if that photographer is still outside but now, he’s just kissed Jungkook against his will and taken his bathroom hostage.
Jungkook interrupts this musing by arriving outside the door, “Jimin-ssi? Are you okay?”
Jimin clutches his pounding head and groans.
Jungkook tries the door and the lock rattles, “Are you sick? Why did you lock the door?”
“I’m really sorry.” Jimin shouts back through the door. “Can you please just forget I did that?”
There’s a beat of silence.
“Do you think I’m upset or something? I’m not. You just surprised me.”
“I’m really drunk.” Jimin says by way of explanation, not really listening to Jungkook, “And it’s been a while since I got laid and—and—I’m really drunk.” He finishes lamely.
Silence again.
Jimin can’t help himself, he starts to ramble, “And really how am I supposed to not get confused when we have to act like we’re dating and go on dates and be convincing to the press like genuinely I ask you to cut me some slack because this is such a weird thing we’re doing.”
“Jimin-ssi…please open the door.” Jungkook says after a moment.
“No.” Jimin huffs back, petulant and embarrassed.
“You can’t live in my bathroom forever.”
“Just watch me.” Jimin snaps. But after a moment he sighs and unfolds from the toilet. He unlocks the door and opens it to Jungkook who looks…intense.
“How long?”
“I mean it can’t have been more than a few minutes right?” Jimin is finding eye contact kind of hard. “Sorry about the drama I guess—“
“How long since you’ve been laid?” Jungkook cuts over his rambling.
Jimin locks in on Jungkook’s expression. He looks…hungry.
“Uh..well…you read about it.” Jimin shrugs, “So now it’s been about a month.”
Jungkook nods.
“You should do it with me.”
Jimin is so certain that’s alcohol induced that he doesn’t even process it for several moments. Breathe in. Breathe out. Jungkook is not talking anymore.
“What?”
“Let me fuck you.” Jungkook clarifies, “Seems to solve your problem.”
Jimin fights through the haze, struggles to make
sense of the words.
“What?” He says again, ever so intelligently.
Jungkook reaches over and curls his fingers into a fold of Jimin’s shirt.
“Have sex with me.” He says again, simply.
“Why?” Jimin manages a different word, but his voice cracks on it.
“Because you want to.” Jungkook is extremely blunt.
“I’m drunk.” Jimin says again, “I don’t want anything of the sort. I can’t be held responsible for drunken impulses.” His heart is thudding double time, pulse pounding in his temples.
“Okay, then wait a couple hours and drink some water. And then let me fuck you.” Jungkook says matter of factly. He pulls back on Jimin’s shirt, tugging him out of the bathroom. Jimin stumbles forward, certain he’s having an out of body experience.
“I’ll make you some more food. We really did drink too much.” Jungkook mumbles.
“I’m still stuck on “let me fuck you.”” Jimin announces to Jungkook’s living room as he’s towed to a kitchen stool.
“You want to. I’ll help you out.” Jungkook plants Jimin on the stool and moves to the fridge, grabbing pans and bowls and rummaging through his cupboards. He plops a glass of water in front of Jimin and pours one for himself.
Jimin narrows his eyes at the water, and then at Jungkook. “And you’re doing this…? Out of the goodness of your heart?”
“It’s been a while for me too…you read about it.” Jungkook admits, “And maybe I feel bad for you.”
“Pity sex?? You think I want pity sex.” Jimin goes to push himself dramatically off the stool and storm out.
“Don’t be dramatic.” Jungkook quips and Jimin freezes. Because now if he clatters around and storms out he’ll definitely be dramatic. Asshole.
He drinks some of the water instead.
“I don’t want pity sex.” Jimin clarifies. “And I never said I wanted to have sex with you!”
“I mean not in so many words but just now—“
“That was an accident!” Jimin shouts, “And, I should point out, just a kiss. A kiss doesn’t mean sex.”
“Well I think it should.” Jungkook says as the pan he’s been staring at starts sizzling. “And you want to, so what’s the issue?”
“Why do YOU want to?? This is a fake relationship!” Jimin protests.
“Well look at you.” Jungkook pauses and turns back
To take Jimin with his eyes, “You can’t tell me you don’t know what you look like.”
Jimin flushes. Full-body red creeping down his neck and pooling in his cheeks.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I don’t know anyone who would turn down what you’re offering.” Jungkook says, voice low and smooth, back to Jimin again as he focuses on cooking.
Jimin, exasperated and a little turned on, “I didn’t offer!”
“Now you’re just being pedantic.”
True to his word, Jungkook is an excellent cook and with his japchae absorbing some of the poison in his stomach and the water he guzzled Jimin feels like the drunk goggles have lifted a bit.
Which only makes him more mortified about how much he’s actively considering Jungkook’s offer. They’ve only been fake dating for a day but Jimin has noticed that Jungkook will act like he doesn’t want to do something even though he does just to keep the psychological upper hand in a conversation. So, the rapper probably isn’t offering to have sex with Jimin out of convenience or pity…but because he wants to.
And that’s got Jimin heated, imagining Jungkook imagining having sex with him. He gives the rapper the up down while he’s turned away. What if he just did it? What’s the worst that could happen? This isn’t even a real relationship so if they don’t have good sex it’s not an actual problem and they can just go their separate ways when this is all over. And if they do…well…
At least it’ll make them more believable, probably.
“Okay.” He says, after a protracted silence.
Jungkook’s eyebrows flick up at him from across the counter.
“Yeah?” He murmurs. Jimin starts to feel way too warm in his skin at his tone and the way Jungkook’s eyes roam.
“Yeah.” Jimin confirms, and then Jungkook is on him.
They’re kissing again, melting into each other like they never stopped, Jungkook’s hands sliding along Jimin’s thighs to bracket him onto the stool and lean over him. Jimin locks his arms around Jungkook’s neck, drawing a whine when he tugs on Jungkook’s hair that surprises them both.
“Take me to bed.” Jimin tells him.
Jungkook scoops him up without a second thought and carries him down the hall.
They kiss again when they get to Jungkook’s room, Jungkook pressing Jimin up against the wall. This should probably be awkward—like their dates have been—but it isn’t. Jungkook licks into his mouth and leans back, pupils blown wide black and chest starting to rise and fall faster as he pretends to be less affected than Jimin.
“How do you like it?” He asks, grinding up against where they’re both hard .
“I’ll tell you.” Jimin nips at his ear. “Bed.”
Jungkook is a good listener—he follows orders immediately. He lets Jimin talk him through undressing him, peeling his clothes off and tossing them somewhere unknown in his room. When Jungkook pulls off Jimin’s underwear he leans back on his heels for a minute, just staring.
“What?” Jimin asks finally.
“I can’t imagine getting lucky enough to bring you home and then screwing it all up by going to the press.”
Jimin has to squeeze his eyes shut to fight off the growing blush, “Don’t be corny. Take off your pants.”
Again, Jungkook does what he’s told. When he shucks off his underwear it’s Jimin’s turn to stare. But Jungkook just preens over it, getting a knowing glint in his eye. “You want it?”
But if Jungkook has been the shameless one tonight it’s time for Jimin to prove he can play that game just as well.
“Let me get it wet.” And to punctuate that Jimin opens his mouth, sticking out his tongue.
“Fuck—“ Jungkook grits out, shuffling forward on his knees like he’s being pulled or compelled, “You’re so—“
But Jimin doesn’t get to hear what he’s so because he leans forward and takes Jungkook into his mouth, cutting off the rest of that sentence into a long, rough groan from the rapper. Jimin bobs up and down on his cock, pressing his plush lips against the head, licking in all the spots he knows will feel good. And Jungkook—true to his profession—starts talking.
“God—so fucking pretty. Look at you, mouth stuffed full what would your fans think if they could see you like this?”
Jimin’s cheeks burn but the heat low in his gut boils hotter. Once he decides he has indeed ‘gotten it wet’ Jimin flops backwards and scoots up the bed.
“Stretch me out?” He leans back on his elbows, knees dropping open. He can’t be shy or coy with the way they’re looking at each other.
Jungkook moans again and blindly gropes for his bedside drawer. He comes up with lube and a condom and spills the lube all over when he shakily tips it over his hand. He’s in a hurry—Jimin did that to him. He prods at Jimin’s entrance and leans over him to kiss him again.
“Relax, pretty.”
So Jimin does. He guides Jungkook through one, then two, then three fingers before they’re both too worked up to wait anymore. Jungkook fumbles the condom on while Jimin makes it difficult by kissing down his neck and chest but soon enough they’re at The moment, Jungkook pausing right with his cock snug up against Jimin’s body.
Jimin wiggles, trying to coax him in, but Jungkook grits his teeth and holds back.
“You’re sure?” Jungkook rasps.
“What, NOW?” Jimin shoves at him.
“Fair enough.” Jungkook says, and then pushes in.
Jimin’s disbelieving giggle catches in his throat and morphs into a long moan as Jungkook’s cock stretches him out significantly more than his fingers did. They both have to pause and take a breath when he’s all the way in.
Jimin is the first to recover, enjoying the sting and the overwhelming fullness enough to tap him, “Move.”
“Give us a sec.” Jungkook grits out, rigid where he’s holding himself still.
Jimin grins, rolling his hips into Jungkook’s, watching his eyes flutter, “Oh?”
“S-shut up.” Jungkook hisses.
“You’re the one who wanted me to let you at it so bad. I have expectations.”
At that Jungkook whimpers a little and Jimin, even as buzzed as he still is, files that away for later.
Jungkook does, however, still listen to instructions and starts moving. He’s different than Jimin expected in bed. Jimin perhaps there was a chip on his shoulder to go along with his music persona, and that maybe he’d fuck the same way—brash and overwhelming and aggressive. But he’s like this. He rocks his hips against Jimin like this. Jimin can imagine many different ways to enjoy it.
He doesn’t have to imagine for long before he starts feeling it. Jungkook is big, and stretches him out in a way that has his toes curling, hips jumping with each thrust and stars popping behind his vision.
“Fuck.” Jungkook says again, “Your body…god—“
Jimin preens at rendering him so incoherent. They’re both sweaty now, and his hands slip where he’s pulling at Jungkook’s hair again, regrasping around his neck to keep him close. Jungkook groans and smooths his hands up the back of Jimin’s thighs, rolling him back and more open and showing off his idol flexibility by how much he bends in half. The pace picks up, becoming more urgent and Jimin’s mouth falls open, wholly embarassing noises tumbling into Jungkook’s mouth where they’re clumsily kissing at each other.
“Yeah?” Jungkook manages, breathlessly, right into Jimin’s ear, “Yeah?”
Jimin responds by cumming over both of them, squeezing around Jungkook and sending him—cursing—right over the edge after him.
They ride it out together, Jungkook slumping against him and still mouthing weakly at his neck. Jimin is too overwhelmed to speak for a while and then he’s too shy. Jungkook, who has gone still on top of him, is maybe experiencing a similar thing. When he finally pulls out and goes to deal with the condom, the atmosphere is strange.
Jimin is experiencing a very strange post-nut clarity.
He and his fake boyfriend just for real for real fucked. Like they just did that.
And the sex was…wow.
Jungkook comes back and he’s awkward again. Jimin’s not sure how to interpret it—probably wrestling with the same realization that this was a dramatic thing for them to do.
“Normally I’d say stay over but the-I mean in the folder it says—“
“Yeah I know.” Jimin saves him from having to say it. In the folder it said for them to call when the last photographer leaves for the night and the other person’s manager will come pick them up, depending on whose apartment they go back to after their “dates”. Because no one is anticipating that they would actually want to spend the night with each other. Sleep together. That is not even a possibility according to the folder. Jimin’s manager is waiting by the phone.
What’s giving Jimin a crisis is that he wants to.
In the end, he doesn’t. He does what he’s supposed to and after he accepts a towel Jungkook brings him to clean himself up and fishes his clothes out of the far flung corners of Jungkook’s room he calls his manager to come get him. Jungkook has also cleaned up and is watching Jimin do all this.
They’re quiet together.
When Jimin’s manager texts him that he’s downstairs, Jungkook follows him to the door to let him out. Jimin straightens up from putting his shoes on and they both take a deep breath to talk at the same time—see each other doing this—and then both stop to wait for the other person. And then they both talk at once
“I’m sorry if I—“
“We should do that again.”
Jungkook blinks.
Jimin blinks.
It was Jimin who said they should do it again.
“Oh?” Jungkook says, staring at Jimin’s mouth. “I was worried you wouldn’t…that you didn’t…” he trails off. “You want to keep…?”
Jimin nods, face feeling hot again, “I—uh. Yeah. I liked it. We should. Again. Sometime. During this.”
Jungkook smiles. Small. “Okay.”
“Okay.” Jimin can feel his heart in his throat. What is going on with him? “See you…tomorrow. For the—thing.”
“See you tomorrow.” Jungkook’s smile has grown even bigger.
Jimin scurries out of his apartment and down to where his manager is waiting with another lecture about exactly how to sell his fake relationship and he just tunes it out, mind totally preoccupied by the last few hours of Jungkook.
He clunks his head against the window.
“Jimin,” he mutters to himself, “What the hell have you gotten yourself into.”