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themininthemoon · 10 months

Text

If Our Hands Touched

ONE SHOT | AO3

12,925 words

Jimin’s smile widens, eyes crinkling up at the corners. He unfurls before Yoongi’s eyes, the protective way he’d been holding himself opening up and becoming more receptive.

“Hello, Min Yoongi.”

They smile at each other.

Yoongi feels silly, heart beating hard in his chest.

“You’re beautiful,” he says the words before his lips can catch them, immediate regret creasing his forehead. He bows his head, waiting for the sound of Jimin leaving the meeting room—it wouldn’t be the first time Yoongi’s run a potential surrogate off, though last time it certainly wasn’t with sweet words—but it doesn’t come.

He looks up to find Jimin smiling at him, eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Well, thank you, Min Yoongi, I’m glad I passed the first part of the interview at least.”

The omega they pair him with is pretty, but guarded, holding themself stiff on their side of the booth. Their arms are crossed tight over their chest, gaze down on the table between them. They have a warm, citrusy scent that compliments Yoongi’s own woody bergamot. He wonders if it’s on purpose before deciding it’s a coincidence—so little about this process has been left up to chance, Yoongi likes the idea of this small happenstance. The omegas hair is cut short, but that’s not really enough to tell Yoongi their gender just by looking.

The omega is very pretty.

“What are your pronouns?” Yoongi asks, leaning forward in his seat with his hands clasped together on the tabletop between them.

The omega smiles and that is pretty too.

“He/him,” the omega says with a voice like bells chiming, sweet and warm. It matches his smile. “My name is Jimin.”

“Jimin,” Yoongi repeats, tasting the syllables. “I’m Min Yoongi; he/him too.”

Jimin’s smile widens, eyes crinkling up at the corners. He unfurls before Yoongi’s eyes, the protective way he’d been holding himself opening up and becoming more receptive.

“Hello, Min Yoongi.”

They smile at each other.

Yoongi feels silly, heart beating hard in his chest.

He looks up to find Jimin smiling at him, eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Well, thank you, Min Yoongi, I’m glad I passed the first part of the interview at least.”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi apologizes, sincere. “I’m usually much better at being professional.”

“That’s okay,” Jimin reassures him. “This isn’t a wholly professional decision. I think… it’s quite emotional, really. Was your partner unable to come with you today?”

Yoongi looks at the empty space beside himself in surprise, blinking. He looks back up at Jimin and laughs quietly, shaking his head.

“I don’t have a partner,” he says.

Jimin hides his surprise well, but Yoongi knows he must be feeling it.

The last two surrogates had heard he was alone and ended the meetings, apologetic.

Jimin doesn’t move. He has a curious little smile on his face, head tilted ever so slightly to the side.

“You’ve just decided that fatherhood is for you?”

Yoongi shrugs then he nods, firmly, like he means it.

“I did.”

“And you don’t want to wait to find a partner to have a child with?”

Yoongi purses his lips against his discomfort with this line of questioning, knowing that the power here is in Jimin’s hands—Yoongi may get his pick of omegas, but the omega has to agree too.

“No. I—” Yoongi licks his lips. “I had a partner for six years. We parted ways due to differences in opinion about children—he asked me to wait, so I waited. And waited. And then one day, finally, he said that he didn’t want children at all,” Yoongi laces his fingers together on the tabletop. “That was the end of things.”

Jimin looks sad.

Yoongi wonders what he’s thinking.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” is what Jimin says. Yoongi braces for rejection. “I’d like to meet again, if you agree to it, so we can talk a bit more about your plans and how this will work.”

Yoongi perks up, sitting straight in his seat.

“I would like that,” he says.

Jimin smiles. He stands and bows his head.

“It was nice to meet you, Alpha Min. I hope to see you again soon.”

Yoongi stands quickly, bowing his head in turn.

“And you, Omega Park. Thank you for your consideration.”

Jimin smiles.

He leaves.

Jimin goes to his next introductory meeting with a warmth in his belly, smiling sweetly at the couple waiting for him in the next room.

They’re very nice, stable.

“We’ve been trying for years,” the omega says tearfully, hand clasped between their mate’s.

Jimin nods his head, swallowing hard, hands on his stomach. The alpha hasn’t stopped looking him up and down since they introduced themselves, but Jimin has learned this is normal.

They’re kind and Jimin feels for them, but he can’t stop thinking of Yoongi.

The next couple he meets too, are warm and kind and desperately searching for help, but Jimin thinks of the lone alpha who just wants to be a dad and he smiles and tells them it was nice to meet them without mentioning meeting again.

He thinks about Yoongi for the rest of the day, his hands, his voice, his sincerity.

Jimin bites his lip, shaking the thoughts away.

“Drink up!” Taehyung calls over the din of the bar. “Once you’re carrying there won’t be anymore soju for you!”

Jimin rolls his eyes and laughs, tapping his glass to Taehyung’s before taking a sip.

“That assumes some couple is going to choose me to carry their pup,” he says.

“Of course they will!” Taehyung enthuses. He wiggles his eyebrows. “Look at you.”

Jimin flushes and punches Taehyung in the shoulder.

“What about you?” Taehyung asks. “Did you meet any couples with potential today?”

“Mm, no,” Jimin says. Taehyung deflates. “I met an alpha though.”

Taehyung perks back up.

“No shit, is he cute?”

Jimin rolls his eyes, taking another drink.

“At the center, you goof, not like. For me.”

“Oh. Well, is he cute?” Taehyung repeats.

Jimin thinks about Yoongi, his hands, his voice, his sincerity.

He blushes, cheeks going warm.

“Yes.”

“Ooh, you like him,” Taehyung says, eyebrows high.

“No!” Jimin exclaims.

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Taehyung quotes.

Jimin rolls his eyes.

“I don’t like him. I just think he has potential.”

Taehyung looks skeptical, but doesn’t push.

“What’s his story?” He asks. “Why’s he trying to do it alone?”

Jimin wets his lips. He shrugs.

“He said he had a partner for many years who lied about wanting children.”

Taehyung’s eyes go wide.

“No shit? That sucks.”

“Yeah. Six years.”

“Six?!”

Jimin nods and Taehyung whistles.

“That’s a hell of a thing to lie about, especially for so long.”

“Right?” Jimin shakes his head. “It’s not very fair.”

“I guess I see why he’s decided to just get it done himself then if he waited that long for nothing.”

“Yeah,” Jimin murmurs, looking down into his drink. He sighs. “I think I want to do this for him.”

“That fast? You talked, what? Five minutes?”

“Yeah, I know. I just—” Jimin presses his lips together. He shrugs. “There’s something about him.”

“You like him,” Taehyung cautions, no more levity in his voice.

“I don’t,” Jimin insists, shaking his head. “I barely know him.”

“But you want to give him a baby.”

“Well, isn’t that what this whole surrogacy thing is about?”

Taehyung sighs.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, Jimin. It’s difficult enough to have a baby and give it up, but if you develop feelings for the sire…”

“I’m not developing feelings for anyone,” Jimin huffs, knocking back his drink. “And you’re the one that convinced me surrogacy would be a good fit.”

“I know,” Taehyung frowns. He taps his fingertips on the bartop. “I’m not sure if I regret that yet.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. He gestures for another round.

“So… '' Yoongi drags the word out, hands in his pockets. They’re walking through the gardens on the clinic grounds, coat collars turned up against the wind. He clears his throat, looking at Jimin. “What do you like to do, Jimin?”

“I dance,” Jimin says, smiling a little. His hands are tucked in the turns of his elbows. “And I like to read and I play video games sometimes. I’m not very good,” he laughs quietly. “But it’s fun. I spend a lot of time with my friends,” he shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I’m pretty boring.”

There’s a little smile on Yoongi’s face, teeth peeking out from behind his lips, eyes soft.

“I don’t think you’re boring,” he says and Jimin has to look away.

“What about you, Yoongi? What do you like to do?” Jimin asks after a beat, turning back to find Yoongi’s eyes and getting only the side of his face.

Yoongi pauses, thinking before he answers.

“I… write,” he says at length. “And I like to read, listen to music, watch films, that kind of thing. I play piano pretty well.”

Jimin’s eyes brighten. He straightens, smiling.

“You play piano? I love the piano! I never got to learn because I was so obsessed with dance, but I’ve always loved a good accompanist.”

Yoongi chuckles, low.

The warm sound travels through the cold air and sends a shiver down Jimin’s spine. He swallows hard, head down. His chapped cheeks are suddenly very warm.

“What kind of music do you listen to?” Jimin asks.

Yoongi hums thoughtfully.

“Mostly rap,” he says, easy.

Jimin blinks in surprise and Yoongi catches it, smirking something sly in the corner of his mouth.

“You didn’t expect that, huh?”

Jimin huffs a laugh. He shakes his head.

“No,” he admits.

Yoongi knocks their shoulders together, a friendly gesture.

“What about you?”

Jimin blows into his cold hands before he answers. He shrugs.

“I like a lot of r&b and jazz, hip-hop, classical, the gamut, really.”

“Really?” Yoongi nods appreciatively. “What’s your favourite song right now?”

“Heize – We Don’t Talk Together,” Jimin says immediately.

Yoongi’s steps stutter.

“You don’t like it?” Jimin asks, eyes wide, curious.

He’s stopped to look back at Yoongi. Yoongi shakes his head.

“No!” Yoongi clears his throat. “No, I do, sorry, something must have tripped me.”

“Oh,” Jimin frowns, looking down at the walking path for something that could have done so. He sees nothing and shrugs. “You should be careful.”

Yoongi nods. “Of course, yeah.”

They continue walking.

“Well, what about you?” Jimin asks after a moment.

“Hm?”

“You’re favourite song right now,” Jimin prompts.

“Oh!” Yoongi nods. “It’s always ‘Big Poppa’.”

Jimin laughs.

“What?” Yoongi asks, a smile playing on his lips.

Jimin shakes his head, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just– ‘Big Poppa’?”

It takes a moment for the words to click but when they do Yoongi throws his head back and laughs.

Their shoulders brush.

Jimin tucks his hands back into his elbows, arms crossed.

“What made you decide to be a surrogate, Jimin?” Yoongi asks after a comfortable silence.

“Oh, I— my friend convinced me, actually.” Jimin licks his lips. “I’ll be honest… it’s not a very altruistic reason, but…” Jimin sighs. He shrugs. “I lost my job and had to use all my savings to keep a roof over my head so…”

“The money,” Yoongi nods.

Jimin shrinks a little, but Yoongi smiles at him.

“Hey, no judgment here. I just hope you’ve really thought it through?”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Jimin nods. “You know there’s mandated therapy before they let you be a surrogate here.”

“I did know that,” Yoongi says, smiling a little to take the sting out. “But still, it’s not an easy thing.”

“No,” Jimin agrees. “But I think… being able to do this for someone else is kind of special.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi says and Jimin looks at him.

He remembers that Yoongi’s here for the same reasons as all the other couples he’s met in the past few weeks.

“Yoongi,” Jimin starts softly. He waits for Yoongi to meet his eyes before he goes on. “You’re really very serious about this baby, right?”

Yoongi blinks. He straightens.

“Of course I am. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

Jimin nods once, firmly.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I think we should talk a bit more, but…” Jimin takes a deep breath. He squares his shoulders. “I want to do this for you.”

Yoongi stares, mouth agape.

“You’re serious?” he demands.

Jimin nods again, firmly. He refuses to acknowledge the twinge of nerves, the alarm bells ringing in the back of his head telling him this is a bad idea.

“I’m serious.”

Yoongi rushes him, startling a squeak out of Jimin when he’s lifted off his feet, Yoongi’s arms tight around his middle.

Yoongi’s nose is pressed to Jimin’s collarbone and he takes a deep breath of Jimin’s warm, citrusy scent.

“Thank you,” he breathes, breath hot and damp against the peek of skin where Jimin’s shirt collar falls open.

He sets Jimin back on his feet, moving his hands to Jimin’s shoulders.

They look each other in the eye and Jimin is moved to see tears in Yoongi’s lashes.

“Thank you,” the alpha says again.

Jimin smiles, blinking away tears of his own. He wipes at his cheeks.

“You made me cry,” he sniffles, flapping a hand Yoongi’s way. “Stop it.”

Yoongi laughs.

“I feel like this might be a bad idea,” Taehyung says again.

Jimin huffs.

“It’s not a bad idea,” he says, tugging a beanie on over his blonde hair. “It’s a good and selfless idea—”

“—that you’re getting paid for.”

“… Yeah,” Jimin glares over at Taehyung. “Need I remind you again that this was your idea?”

Taehyung crosses his arms over his chest.

“Please, don’t.”

Jimin rolls his eyes.

“I don’t get why you’re so set against this suddenly.”

“I’m not suddenly against anything, but you agreeing to give a baby to an alpha you clearly like when the whole thing about surrogacy is needing to remain professional and unattached.”

“I am professional!” Jimin protests. “And unattached!”

“You’re wearing lipgloss,”

Jimin presses his shining lips together.

“So.”

Taehyung throws his arms up in the air and storms down the hallway toward his room.

Jimin rolls his eyes at the dramatic display and finishes bundling up for the cold to come. He slides on his shoes and calls a “Goodbye!” down the hall before stepping out of the apartment, locking the door behind him.

Yoongi is waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs with a to go cup of hot chocolate, dark hair pushed back from his forehead. He’s wearing black glasses and a black peacoat, black turtleneck underneath with black slacks and black loafers and Jimin has to pause and take a breath before he smiles and says his hellos and thank yous as he takes the proffered cup of hot cocoa from Yoongi’s hand.

“Thank you for picking me up,” Jimin says quietly.

Yoongi shrugs.

“It’s on my way,” he says.

“Still,” Jimin smiles. “Thank you. It’ll be nice to have company on the walk.”

“Of course,” Yoongi smiles, eyes darting briefly to meet Jimin’s before turning back to the path ahead. “It must have been boring before.”

“A little,” Jimin agrees. He takes a sip of his cocoa, relishing in its rich warmth. “My roommate comes with me sometimes, but he’s really busy with work these days.”

“You’ve mentioned him before,” Yoongi murmurs, “Taehyung, right?”

JImin nods.

“He sounds like a good friend.”

“The best,” Jimin agrees, smiling. “We’ve known each other since we were kids—he’s my soulmate.”

Jimin isn’t sure what the face Yoongi makes means, but he shoves down on the urge to clarify that he means that as platonically as he possibly can. That’s not really Yoongi’s concern.

“And he’s the one who suggested you be a surrogate?” Yoongi asks after a lengthy pause where they drank their drinks in silence.

Jimin nods, meek. He holds his hot chocolate in both hands.

“Yeah.”

Yoongi nods.

A long silence.

“I guess you should thank him for me,” Yoongi says, cracking half a smile.

Jimin huffs a laugh, looking down at the sidewalk ahead of them.

“Can do.”

They walk quietly for a while, letting the sudden awkwardness dissipate into the cold winter air.

Yoongi clears his throat.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks.

“Yes!” Jimin straightens. “I did, yes, thank you for asking. Did you?”

Yoongi nods then shrugs his shoulders, making a face.

“I don’t sleep much.” He says.

“That’s no good,” Jimin frowns. “You’ve gotta get as much sleep as possible before your baby is here.”

“Is that right? Isn’t it a strength to be practiced at sleeplessness?”

“No,” Jimin says stubbornly.

Yoongi chuckles.

“Okay, I’ll try to sleep more then.”

“Good.”

“Okay.”

Yoongi laughs, running a hand through his hair. He looks away from Jimin, shaking his head with an amused turn to his lips. He mutters something under his breath that Jimin doesn’t ask him to repeat, afraid he heard that “He’s cute” correctly.

It’s their fifth meeting.

They get to speak to a nurse from the clinic today.

“Alright, we’ve got all the important blood work and paperwork done. Checkups: done. Home check: done. You’ve both been approved by psych and of course the compatibility team. Everything looks good,” the nurse smiles at them where they sit on opposite sides of one of the small tables in the meeting rooms, her at the end. “I just have a couple questions to go over and a few things for you to sign and then you’ll be,” she beams, smile moving from Jimin to land brightly on Yoongi. “Ready for your baby.”

Yoongi’s heart skips a beat, smiling at her with his whole face, teeth and gums on display. He turns his smile on Jimin and reaches across the table to lay a hand on top of Jimin’s where they’re folded together on the tabletop.

“Thank you,” he says.

Jimin smiles back, cheeks a pretty pink.

“I’m glad I can do this for you,” he says softly.

The nurse clears her throat quietly and Yoongi takes his hand back, tucking it close to his body, suddenly self conscious. He turns his attention back to her, wanting to make sure he hears everything he needs to.

She smiles understandingly.

“Now, first things first,” she’s holding a clipboard up, pen at the ready. She’s not looking at him. “What was your preferred insemination method?”

“Natural,” Yoongi blurts without thinking. He has to physically restrain himself from facepalming, gritting his teeth to keep his expression neutral and not look Jimin’s way. That was not what he’d decided before. “That is… if Jimin is comfortable with that. I am also open to artificial insemination.”

“Um,” Jimin is pink, looking down at the tabletop with his hands splayed in front of him. “I think I would prefer trying artificial insemination… first.”

“Of course,” Yoongi nods immediately, waving his hands like he can brush the word ‘natural’ from the air. “Whatever you’re most comfortable with, Jimin.”

The nurse nods, making a note on her clipboard.

“Excellent!” She chirps. “We usually recommend the natural method as a last resort for the comfort of our omega patients, but some do choose to go with that from the get-go. If you change your mind you can do so up to forty-eight hours before your insemination appointment.”

Yoongi nods, smile an awkward line across his lips.

Jimin’s head is still down, eyes on his hands.

Yoongi closes his eyes and breathes out slowly through his nose.

He fucked up.

He goes through the rest of the paperwork mechanically, mind on Jimin and making sure he isn’t uncomfortable, but there doesn’t ever seem to be a right time to reassure the omega. He’ll have to wait until the paperwork is done and the nurse leaves.

Yoongi sighs quietly. He initials on the dotted lines.

As soon as the nurse leaves Jimin moves to stand.

“Jimin, wait,” Yoongi calls, quiet but firm.

Jimin stills, turning to face Yoongi. His cheeks immediately go pink again, eyes down instead of meeting Yoongi’s gaze.

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi sighs softly and Jimin’s scent blooms in the small room. Yoongi swallows hard. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable earlier. We should have discussed insemination beforehand so there wouldn’t be any surprises.”

“It’s okay!” Jimin says. “I wasn’t uncomfortable. It just surprised me.”

Yoongi presses his lips together but decides not to press.

“Okay,” he nods, breathing in Jimin’s soft, citrus scent. It curls around him and Yoongi struggles to keep his own scent close to the skin. He swallows hard again, throat bobbing. “That’s good.”

Jimin nods back, reaching for his bag.

“I’ll see you next week,” he says.

“Next week,” Yoongi agrees.

Jimin smiles.

“Goodbye, Yoongi.”

Jimin is inseminated for the first time on a Wednesday.

It feels strange.

They ask him to disrobe and he does, changing into the provided hospital gown and climbing onto the cold exam table, paper covering crinkling as he lays back.

There are stirrups at the end of the exam table. Jimin chews nervously on his bottom lip. Seeing those doesn’t usually foretell a pleasant time.

He sighs, laying his head back. He closes his eyes, tapping his fingers on his stomach as he waits.

It’s a few minutes before the doctor comes in, smiling.

“Jimin, it’s nice to see you again. Are you excited?”

Jimin laughs quietly.

“Nervous,” he corrects, smiling a little.

“Whatever for?”

Jimin eyes the stirrups and the doctor laughs, shaking her head.

“Don’t worry about those, just helps make things easier for us to get this handled quickly and efficiently.”

Jimin nods, but the nerves remain, jumping in his belly.

“We’re just waiting on the sample,” the doctor smiles, nodding toward the door.

Jimin’s breath catches, swallowing hard. Suddenly he’s thinking of Yoongi squirreled away in a bathroom somewhere nearby with his hand on his shaft, jacking off into a vial.

Jimin closes his eyes, cheeks warm.

Don’t get wet.

He thinks, desperately, of baseball facts his stepfather tried to teach him when he was young and wonders what Yoongi’s thinking about, if he’s thinking about—

Jimin shakes his head hard.

“Jimin? Are you okay?” the doctor asks, concerned.

“Yes!” Jimin squeaks, embarrassed. “I’m fine, sorry.”

“Are you sure?” her brow is furrowed, standing to look down at Jimin in concern.

Jimin closes his eyes in mortification and nods.

The doctor hmms but lets him be, sitting back down in her chair.

A moment later a nurse comes in with the sample and Jimin’s cheeks flush again. He stares up at the ceiling.

“Alright Jimin, are you ready?” the doctor asks with a smile.

Jimin swallows hard and nods. He puts his feet in the stirrups as directed, holding his legs open wide.

The doctor inserts a small syringe into his vagina and Jimin feels it against his cervix. She presses down on the plunger and Jimin feels the rapidly cooling semen deep inside him. She removes the syringe and snaps off her gloves, tossing them into the small trash can beside the door.

“And you’re all done!” she chirps.

Jimin moves to take his legs from the stirrups but she stops him.

“Woah, just a second. We’re gonna keep you on your back like this for about fifteen minutes just to make sure the semen gets a chance to move from the cervix and into the uterus.”

“Oh,” Jimin blinks, placing his foot back in its place. “Okay.”

He lays back, fingers laced over his stomach, and waits.

The sixth time his period comes right on schedule, Jimin cries.

“I’m sorry,” he sniffles, sitting on the toilet at work, phone cradled to his ear. His uniform pants are around his ankles, underwear stopped at his knees. There’s a tampon fisted in his hand. “I’m sorry, Yoongi.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Yoongi assures him like every other time. “Aren’t you working?”

Jimin looks around the grubby bathroom stall and nods without thinking.

“Yeah,” he says after a moment of silence.

“Do you want me to come get you?”

Jimin’s face crumples.

“My shift just started,” he whispers, struggling to keep the tears at bay.

“Jimin—”

“I’ll be fine. I just wanted to let you know,” Jimin says quickly.

A sniffle betrays him.

The bathroom door creaks open and there’s a loud sigh. The person bangs on the bathroom stall door.

“Hurry up, Jimin,” his coworker, Hyungsik, says, annoyed already.

“I am working on it,” Jimin hisses.

“Work faster.”

Jimin rolls his eyes.

“I have to go,” he whispers into the phone.

“Okay,” Yoongi says, clipped.

Jimin frowns, ready to cry again. He hangs up and does his business, shoving past Hyungsik as he leaves the stall. He groans when he sees his reflection, eyes red-rimmed and swollen. He pokes lightly at his under eye with a sigh.

“What? You get your period again?” Hyungsik sneers, rolling his eyes.

Jimin glares at him through the mirror, not dignifying his taunts with a response.

Hyungsik sidles closer.

“You know,” he says, putting a hand on Jimin’s hip. “Maybe I could help you with that. Your alpha friend wouldn’t have to know.”

Jimin’s whole face wrinkles in disgust, flicking Hyungsik’s hand away from him.

“Don’t fucking touch me, asshole.”

“Oh, does your alpha know you talk like that?”

Jimin grinds his teeth, washing his hands quickly before turning from the mirror. He pushes past Hyungsik and out onto the restaurant floor.

The lunch rush is just beginning to ramp up and Jimin could cry, stress already flooding his veins. He grabs an apron from the back and ties it around his waist. He tucks a pad of tickets and a couple pens into the little front pockets. He plasters a smile on his face and walks out to his section.

“Hi!” He chirps, smile warm and wide. “My name is Jimin and I’ll be your server this afternoon.”

Ten hours later he finally clocks out, dead on his feet, but with a wallet full of tips.

Pulling lunch and dinner service may be grueling, but it’s lucrative.

Jimin walks out the front door with a bunch of other waiters, kitchen staff, and management pulling up the rear.

Hyungsik lets out a low whistle.

“Damn,” he says appreciatively, “Now that’s a car.”

Everyone looks up curiously, following his gaze to the other side of the parking lot.

As Jimin’s gaze falls on the all black Rolls Royce a familiar figure climbs out of the driver’s side door.

“Park Jimin!” Yoongi calls, waving a hand. “Hurry up.”

“Holy shit—”

“Wait, that’s the alpha?”

“Is it?”

“Jimin—”

“I’ve gotta go,” Jimin says, standing still. He blinks and Yoongi’s still there, hands in his pockets as he moves to lean against the now closed driver’s side door.

“Well fucking go, dude,” someone says, Jimin isn’t sure who.

“Get that bag, baby!”

Jimin shakes his head, ignoring them. He begins to walk, slowly parting from the pack of restaurant workers and growing closer to Yoongi and his Rolls Royce.

“You can drive?!” is the first thing Jimin blurts when he’s close enough. Immediately overcome with embarrassment, he shakes his head at himself. “Of course you can drive. Why did you walk with me before?”

Yoongi shrugs.

“Walking is nice sometimes.”

“You’ve got everyone in a tizzy,” Jimin says.

Yoongi arches a brow.

“The car,” Jimin gestures with a limp hand.

Yoongi’s eyebrows go up then down, settling somewhere neutral.

“Oh, sorry.”

Jimin shakes his head.

“No, it’s fine. I just— how did you know when my shift ended?”

Yoongi shifts on his feet.

“You were complaining yesterday about having to work lunch and dinner.”

“Oh,” Jimin blinks. “You didn’t have to come.”

Yoongi shrugs.

“I thought you might like a ride and some company.”

“I’m okay,” Jimin says quietly.

“You’re sure.”

Jimin nods. “I just. I had had a good feeling about this time so when I— and I didn’t sleep well last night so—”

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to justify your emotions to me, Jimin. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay.”

“Okay.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Yoongi licks his lips. He gestures to the car.

“Would you like a ride home?”

“Yes, please.”

When they get to Jimin’s apartment, Yoongi walks him to the door.

Jimin doesn’t invite him in.

“Thank you,” he says instead.

Yoongi smiles, nodding his head.

“No problem,” he says. “You can call or text me for a ride anytime—I may not always be able to come, but you can ask and I’ll do my best.”

Jimin nods.

They linger.

“Okay, well,” Yoongi licks his lips, “I’ll let you go in then.”

Jimin nods again.

“Good night,” he says.

“Good night,” Yoongi echoes.

Jimin is tipsy.

He’s not drunk or incapacitated, he’s tipsy.

Tipsy and ovulating and he has an idea.

“I’m gonna go home,” he tells Taehyung.

“I’ll come too then,” Taehyung says, immediately moving to slide off his stool at the bar.

“No no, it’s okay. I’ll call a taxi. Stay. I know you wanted to be here for trivia.”

“Are you sure?” Taehyung asks, frowning. “It’s not a big deal if you’re not feeling good. We can go.”

Jimin shakes his head.

“I’m fine,” he says. “I’m just tired.”

Taehyung frowns.

“Okay.”

He really wants to win trivia this week.

“Okay,” Jimin smiles, pulling Taehyung into a quick hug. “I’ll see you at home, okay?”

“Okay.”

Jimin smiles wider, grabbing his coat from the back of his stool and sliding it on over his shoulders.

Taehyung still looks worried, but someone calls his name and he’s distracted so Jimin takes the opportunity to slip out the front door. He unlocks his phone and goes to his recent messages. He doesn’t have to scroll far to find Yoongi’s name. He debates whether to text or call for a moment, but he’s learned texting Yoongi is far less reliable than a phone call—he tends to get caught up in his work, leaving his phone to vibrate with texts helplessly for hours before it’s noticed by its owner.

He calls.

Yoongi picks up on the fifth ring, a quiet “Jimin?” into the receiver.

“Yoongi,” Jimin smiles at the sound of his voice. “Can you come pick me up?”

There’s a pause. It gets quieter on Yoongi’s end, some ambient noise disappearing.

“Yeah, where are you?”

“I’m outside Dixon’s.”

“The bar?”

“Yeah.”

Yoongi huffs.

“Wait inside—I’ll be there in twenty.”

Jimin hums softly.

“Thank you,” he says.

He does not wait inside. He’s committed to the illusion of getting a taxi and he’s sticking with it, determined not to let on to Taehyung what he’s actually doing.

He waits impatiently, rocking side to side and blowing into his palms, trying his best to keep warm.

His phone vibrates.

<small>Almost there.</small>

Jimin smiles.

The car pulls up and there are murmurs from people around. The window rolls down and Yoongi means across the center console to bade Jimin enter.

“C’mon, it’s fucking freezing,” he says.

Jimin smiles. He climbs into the car and immediately puts his seatbelt on, luxuriating in the warmth.

“Thank you,” he says.

Yoongi nods, checking his mirrors before pulling out into traffic.

“Am I taking you home?” he asks.

Jimin chews on his bottom lip.

“Depends on whose home you mean.”

Yoongi looks over at Jimin briefly, confused.

“What are you talking about?”

Jimin takes a deep breath.

“I think we should have sex.”

Yoongi chokes.

“What?”

Jimin sighs, turning his head to look at the side of Yoongi’s face.

“I want to try the natural way.”

“The natural way,” Yoongi mutters. “Are you drunk? We have an insemination appointment in two days.”

“No, I'm not drunk,” Jimin frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m tipsy. And ovulating. And I think you should knot me.”

Yoongi closes his eyes briefly, shifting in his seat.

“You can’t just say shit like that, Jimin.”

“Yoongi,” Jimin pleads. “I just want to give you a baby—it’s been almost seven months, I think it’s time to switch it up.”

“If this is about money—”

Jimin sucks in a sharp breath.

“I’m already being compensated for my time. You know this isn’t about money, Yoongi,” Jimin’s eyes begin to water. His voice cracks. “I’m sick and tired of failing you.”

“You’re not failing me,” Yoongi says quietly, firmly as he shifts gears. “These things take time.”

“How much time?”

“I don’t know,” Yoongi says. “It happens when it’s time.”

“You’re the one that wanted to try the natural way in the first place,” Jimin reminds him. “Why are you so against it now?”

“I’m not against it,” Yoongi grits. “I just don’t want you to do something you’re not comfortable with.”

“I’m perfectly comfortable,” Jimin says, arms crossed stubbornly over his chest.

“How long have you been thinking about this?” Yoongi asks.

“Since tonight,” Jimin admits after a long moment.

Yoongi sighs, pulling into Jimin’s apartment complex. He parks in front of Jimin’s building and crosses his arms against the steering wheel, looking over at Jimin.

“If you want to do it the “natural way” then we’ll have to wait for my rut.”

The word makes Jimin’s toes curl in his boots. He struggles to keep his scent from flaring, cheeks flushing hot. He swallows hard.

“Your rut,” he repeats. Yoongi nods, eyes sliding away from Jimin’s direct gaze. “When is it?”

Yoongi makes a thoughtful noise.

“Four weeks?” he says, shrugging. “Give or take.”

“Oh,” Jimin licks his lips. “I’ve never spent an alphas rut with them before.”

“No?”

“No.”

Yoongi nods, resting his forehead on his crossed arms. He closes his eyes and sighs.

“If—in four weeks—you still want to do this the natural way, we’ll get things set up, okay?”

Jimin nods rapidly, leaning forward in his seat.

“For now though,” Yoongi sighs. “Go home, Jimin.”

“Okay,” Jimin says quietly.

He slips out of the car and makes his way toward his apartment.

Four weeks is not very long, Jimin realizes.

The days tick by rapidly and when he thinks about it his heartbeat kicks up, scent gone sweet and warm. He thinks about it a lot, reading forum posts about being an alpha’s rut partner, but too shy to ask questions himself. He’ll save them for Yoongi, he guesses.

Jimin checks himself out in the mirror, long taupe coat turning him into a flat line from the back, but he looks good from the front, put together. Like the kind of person who makes big decisions.

There are three days until Yoongi’s rut is predicted to start.

Jimin takes a deep breath, straightening his shoulders.

Yoongi’s coming to pick him up so they can have dinner and talk—they’ve talked only a little in the past four weeks, texting sporadically and never about Yoongi’s looming rut. It makes Jimin feel impatient, small. It’s not like they talked constantly before, but he’s afraid now that Yoongi is mad at him, unable to shake the feeling that he’s upset the alpha somehow in the process of kickstarting this.

Jimin sighs. He looks himself up and down again.

“You ready for your date?” Taehyung asks sardonically, leaned up against the jamb of Jimin’s open bedroom door.

Jimin startles, turning to face him with a hand over his heart.

“Don’t scare me like that!” he scolds, frowning. He rolls his eyes. “It’s not a date.”

“You look like it’s a date.”

“Well, it’s not. It's just… dinner.”

“Where are you guys going?”

Jimin sends Taehyung a sideways look.

“Yoongi’s place,” he admits begrudgingly. “He’s cooking.”

“But it’s not a date,” Taehyung says flatly.

“No.”

“Why all the fanfare, then? Like, why are you doing dinner at all?”

“We have… things to talk about.”

Taehyung’s eyes narrow.

“What kinds of things?”

Jimin dithers where he stands. He sighs and rolls his eyes.

“We’re going to spend Yoongi’s rut together,” he says, throwing the words out into the room.

Silence.

“Jimin…”

“Taehyung.”

Taehyung sighs.

“I just don’t want you getting hurt at the end of this.”

“I’m not going to!” Jimin protests. “Tae, it’s a perfectly normal part of surrogacy.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

“I don’t like him like that!” Jimin insists. He crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s purely professional.”

“Jimin. Babe. I’ve seen the way you kick your feet when he texts you.”

Jimin sputters, flushes.

“I don’t do that!”

He does.

Jimin turns away from Taehyung, gathering his phone and keys from his nightstand. He shoves them into a little black backpack along with his chapstick and charger.

“Jimin,” Taehyung calls quietly.

Jimin sighs. He turns.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” Taehyung repeats. “I’m worried you’re too invested; you cried over a diaper commercial yesterday.”

Jimin purses his lips.

He did.

“I just didn’t think it would be this difficult to get pregnant,” he says.

“It’s only been like six months—”

“Seven.”

“—sometimes it takes years.”

“I don’t want it to take years,” Jimin mutters, slinging the backpack over his shoulders. “Yoongi’s already waited long enough.”

Taehyung sighs.

“Just— please be careful.”

“You be careful.”

“Jimin.”

“Taehyung.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I. There’s a spider crawling toward your hand.”

Taehyung jumps, letting out a little scream.

There is, indeed, a small spider making its way down the door jamb toward Taehyung. He smushes it with his thumb, other hand over his heart.

“You could’ve told me sooner,” he gripes, wiping his thumb off on his pants.

“I only just noticed,” Jimin frowns, pouting his lips. His phone vibrates and he checks it quickly. “I have to go.”

“Okay,” Taehyung’s frowning.

Jimin sighs. He smiles reassuringly.

“Everything is going to be fine.”

Jimin sits at the breakfast bar in Yoongi’s house, watching him move around the sleek kitchen with practiced ease.

The house is exactly what Jimin expected and also nothing like he imagined. Full of dark woods and modern furniture, the living room is warm, cozy. There’s a big TV mounted on the wall and a large, dark grey sectional across from it. There’s a big wooden coffee table with books and magazines and lit candles, mellow enough that Yoongi’s deep bergamot scent shines through.

“I like your house,” Jimin says, looking around, taking in the built-in bookcases on either side of the television. He looks out the large windows that overlook a back patio, privacy fence a stone's throw away from the sliding glass doors. “I didn’t expect you to live in an actual house.”

Yoongi laughs quietly, almost drowned out by the sizzling of onions and garlic on the stove.

“What did you expect?” he asks.

Jimin shrugs.

“A bachelor pad.”

“A bachelor pad,” Yoongi repeats, amused.

Jimin watches his shoulders move when he chuckles, back muscles tensing under a thin black t-shirt as he lifts a bottle of red wine to deglaze the pan.

It reminds Jimin of his wine and reaches for the glass to take a sip, crisp and sweet.

“This is good wine.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Yoongi shoots Jimin a smile over his shoulder before turning his attention back to his risotto-in-progress.

“The food smells good too,” Jimin tells him.

Yoongi laughs again.

“The food has barely started.”

Jimin shrugs.

“Onions and garlic and wine are always a good start.”

“True,” Yoongi pours a cup of Arborio rice into the pot.

“I guess I’ll be talking to your back for a while.” Jimin says, resting a cheek in his hand.

“Yeah, sorry,” Yoongi says, shrugging. He adds a cup of broth to the rice mixture and stirs. “Gotta babysit this a bit.”

“I know,” Jimin says, amused. “I’ve seen the chefs at work making it.”

“Ah, I see.”

There’s a companionable silence while Yoongi stirs.

“Do you like to cook?” Yoongi asks.

“Mm, yeah, but I don’t get the opportunity much.”

“Ah, well, do you wanna help me out here then?”

Jimin perks up.

“I can,” he says.

“There’s some asparagus and brussel sprouts in the fridge. Could you prep them for me?”

“Yep!” Jimin chirps, standing from his stool. He rounds the island and opens the fridge. It’s pretty empty save for some drinks and skincare.

“You don’t cook much either, huh?” he asks, amused.

Yoongi meets his amused look with a shrug.

“Not as much as I’d like,” he says. “I work a lot.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Yoongi sighs.

“Yeah, I’ve gotta learn to pull back.”

“Mm, especially if you plan on taking care of a newborn soon,” Jimin says, grabbing a mesh bag of brussel sprouts and a bundle of asparagus from the crisper.

“True,” Yoongi agrees. He sighs. “It’s difficult.”

“Don’t you have like. Underlings?” Jimin asks, setting the veggies in the sink. “People you can delegate too? Where’s the cutting board? A colander?”

“Uh,” there’s a pause in Yoongi’s stirring. “They’re in the small lower cabinet beside the sink.”

“And your delegates?” Jimin prompts.

“Don’t exist,” Yoongi says, clipped.

Jimin’s eyebrows go high. He reaches for a cutting board and colander.

“What do you even do?” he finally asks.

There’s a long stretch of silence.

Jimin places the colander in the sink and the cutting board on the counter and turns to Yoongi with a furrow in his brow, confused.

“Is that a no-no question?” he asked, one eyebrow arched. “Are you a secret government agent and you’ll have to kill me if you tell me?”

Yoongi huffs, shaking his head. He laughs a little.

“No, sorry, I just—” he stops, licking his lips. There’s another moment of silence. “I make music.”

Jimin straightens, curious.

“You make music?” he looks around at the house again. “You must be pretty successful.”

Yoongi laughs, a choked sound.

“You could say that.”

Jimin’s eyebrow stays piqued, a hand on his hip.

“Would I know anything?”

Yoongi rolls his shoulders, staring determinedly down into the pot of risotto.

“We Don’t Talk Together,” he says.

“You worked on that?!” Jimin asks, stepping closer. He cranes his head to see Yoongi’s face, eager. “What part? What did you do?”

A smile cracks Yoongi’s face. He shakes his head, eyes darting briefly to Jimin’s before gluing themselves back to the rice he’s stirring.

“Uh— I produced it.”

Jimin goes still.

“You—” he stops. He shakes his head. He hisses. “You produced it?!”

Yoongi’s smile blossoms. He laughs, nodding his head.

“Yeah.”

“You’re SUGA?!”

Jimin feels lightheaded.

Yoongi nods once, firm.

“Oh my god,” Jimin says, a little breathless. “How am I supposed to halve brussel sprouts under these conditions?”

Yoongi laughs, head thrown back. He continues stirring, adding another cup of broth to his risotto as soon as he’s calmed, chuckles still rumbling through his chest.

His scent has bloomed in the kitchen, happy and warm.

“I think you’ll manage,” he says.

Jimin laughs, a little incredulous.

“Okay,” he shakes his head. He turns to his cutting board and reaches across the counter to grab a chef’s knife from the knife block by the sink. “Okay.”

He rinses the veggies and pats them dry before chopping, shaking his head occasionally when he remembers he’s standing next to SUGA, of all people.

“I’m having a baby for SUGA,” he mumbles under his breath, halving a brussel sprout and tossing it into the colander.

“Huh?”

“Nothing!” Jimin shakes his head.

Yoongi doesn’t press.

“You can’t tell anyone,” he says after a long moment.

“Oh.” Jimin straightens, resting the knife against the cutting board. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

Yoongi darts a look his way, pausing his stirring.

“I’m trusting you,” he says.

“Of course! Of course,” Jimin nods. “I completely understand.”

“Okay,” Yoongi nods. He adds more broth to the pot and begins stirring again. “That’s good.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. He starts chopping again.

“How much longer until we eat?” he asks.

Yoongi hums softly.

“Maybe twenty,” he says. He nods toward the stove. “Can you turn the oven on? 400.”

Jimin nods, setting the knife down and reaching to turn the knob.

“How do you want this stuff prepped?” he asks.

“Mm, a little salt, a little pepper, some oil,” Yoongi shrugs.

“Boring,” Jimin frowns.

Yoongi rolls his eyes.

“It’s delicious.”

“Not even a little parm?” Jimin asks.

Yoongi huffs, smiling a little to himself.

“Fine. I might have some in the pantry.”

“The pantry?” Jimin asks. “You buy cheap sprinkle cheese?”

Yoongi nods. “Yes, I do.”

Jimin hums. He turns toward the pantry, pulling the double doors at the far end of the kitchen open.

It's a walk-in.

“Of course it is,” Jimin mutters to himself, shaking his head.

The next twenty minutes pass quickly, easily, small-talk filling up the space between them.

Yoongi finishes his risotto and moves into steak while the veggies roast, dinner coming together quickly in the end.

“This smells amazing,” Jimin says, scooting his chair in at the small four-person kitchen table.

Yoongi smiles.

“Thanks for your help,” he says.

Jimin shakes his head.

“I barely did anything.”

“You did plenty,” Yoongi says. “The parmesan was a good call.”

“Thank you,” Jimin pretends to curtsey in his seat.

Yoongi shakes his head.

“Well, cut into it,” he says, gesturing with his knife. “How’d I do?”

Jimin rolls his eyes but obeys, cutting his steak in half and humming in appreciation.

“Medium-rare,” he says.

Yoongi does a dorky little first-pump and Jimin snorts.

“You’re such an alpha.”

“I mean… that’s just true,” Yoongi says, shrugging.

Jimin sighs.

“You’re annoying,” he says.

“But your steak is perfect,” Yoongi says.

Jimin rolls his eyes.

“And you’re annoying.”

“I can live with that.”

Jimin huffs, cutting a piece of steak and biting it off the fork with unnecessary aggression. He chews and swallows, washing it down with a sip of wine.

“So when are we gonna talk about your rut?” he asks.

Yoongi chokes. He wipes his mouth.

“Now, I guess?”

“Okay,” Jimin sets his silverware down. “What’s it like?”

“Uh,” Yoongi sets his own fork and knife down. “Horny?”

Jimin flushes.

“Obviously,” he huffs. “But, like, I don’t know. I’ve been reading forums—”

“Forums.”

“—and i'm not really nervous anymore—”

“That’s good.”

“—but I still don’t have any experience and I’m curious what it’s like for you, specifically.”

Yoongi shrugs. He sits back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Well, I usually go through my ruts alone,” he says and Jimin is embarrassed how relieved he is, knows Yoongi can tell by the shift in his scent and the way his eyes slide away. “And they’re pretty quick—six days at most, usually less with suppressants.”

“Six is quick?” Jimin squeaks.

Yoongi shrugs.

“It was sometimes two—three weeks when I was younger.”

Jimin’s eyes go wide.

“That sounds miserable.”

Yoongi laughs, nodding.

“It was.”

“What about now?”

“It’s better now,” Yoongi says. He grimaces. “Less desperate. Being thirty-two and not a teenager has its perks—there’s breaks. I shower. I cook. I even change the sheets,” he laughs a little. “It’s a lot calmer an experience than it used to be, though I don’t know how spending it with an omega will affect that routine.”

“Do you think it will?”

“Of course,” Yoongi nods firmly. “Adding your scent, your pheromones—you—to the equation? It’s very different from locking myself in the house and masturbating for a week.”

Jimin swallows hard, shifting in his seat.

Don’t get wet.

“But you’re willing to try it?” Jimin clears his throat and asks.

Yoongi nods, drumming his fingers on the table.

“Yeah. If you’re comfortable with it, I’m down.”

“You’re down,” Jimin echoes. He laughs. “Okay. Cool.”

“Cool.”

Jimin blushes his way through calling out of work.

It’s somehow worse telling his boss that he needs time off for his partner’s rut than it was the time he caught Jimin doing a pregnancy test in the bathroom during his break.

“Might as well be saying ‘sorry I can’t work next week, I’ll be busy getting railed,’” he mutters.

Somewhere behind him, Taehyung chokes.

“Dude.”

Jimin whips around, cheeks hot.

“It’s true!” he insists. He groans. “And my whole job is gonna know in like two minutes, because my boss is a gossip.”

Taehyung frowns.

“Isn’t that like. Classified information?” he asks.

“Classified?” Jimin repeats, eyebrow arched. “It’s not the CIA, Tae. It’s a mediocre Italian restaurant.”

“You know what I mean.”

Jimin shrugs.

“It’s not like HIPAA or anything. I don’t think they can get in trouble.”

“They should,” Taehyung frowns. “Or, at least, your boss should keep his mouth shut.”

Jimin shrugs.

“It’s not a big deal, I guess. Not really. Everyone knew I was getting inseminated and shit. What’s a rut?”

“Hm.”

Jimin sighs.

“I gotta finish packing,” he checks the time on his phone. “Yoongi should be here in twenty.”

“Should I go?” Taehyung asks.

“Go?”

“If he’s close to his rut I don’t wanna risk a confrontation.”

Jimin rolls his eyes.

“Yoongi’s not like that.”

Taehyung snorts.

“An alpha’s an alpha,” he says. “And I’m an alpha and I don’t wanna risk things getting aggressive ‘cause I stood too close to you or something.”

Jimin shakes his head.

“I don’t think you need to,” he says. “Yoongi will probably stay in the car.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Jimin nods. “Hell, I’ll text him and tell him not to come up.”

“Okay,” Taehyung nods, hands in his pockets. “That works.”

He lingers in Jimin’s room.

“What is it?” Jimin asks, shoving folded shirts into a duffel bag.

Taehyung sighs.

“You know my thoughts,” he says.

“I do,” Jimin agrees.

Taehyung sighs again.

“I just worry.”

“I know you do,” Jimin smiles a little, shaking his head. “But everything is fine.”

“Everything is fine,” Taehyung echoes. “Okay.”

It’s not sarcastic.

“Okay?” Jimin looks away from his packing to eye Taehyung. “No more protests?”

Taehyung shrugs.

“You’re a grown up.”

“I am,” Jimin agrees, amused.

Taehyung shrugs again.

“That’s all.”

Jimin laughs.

“Okay. Thank you.”

Taehyung nods his head.

“I’m gonna go play video games now,” he says. “I’ll see you in a week.”

“See you in a week,” Jimin smiles. “Love you.”

“I love you too,” Taehyung says. He smiles, giving a little wave before walking down the hall to his room.

Jimin shakes his head, smiling.

He goes back to packing.

Yoongi’s drumming his fingers on the steering wheel when Jimin climbs into the car, but he goes tense as soon as Jimin’s scent hits him, nostrils flaring. His grip on the steering wheel goes tight, knuckles white.

Fuck.

“Yoongi?”

Yoongi shakes himself, blinking.

“Sorry,” he says, sheepish. He looks over at Jimin. “I can smell Taehyung on you.”

“Oh,” Jimin blinks. “Sorry, I should’ve showered.”

Yoongi shakes his head.

“It’s not a big deal,” he says. “You’ll smell like me soon enough.”

Jimin’s eyes go wide, cheeks blushing a pretty pink.

Yoongi swallows hard, turning away from him.

He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“Sorry,” he says.

Jimin shakes his head.

“It’s okay. It’s true.”

Yoongi closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, but it’s counterproductive. Jimin smells warm and sweet and strong. Yoongi can practically taste orange blossom on his tongue.

He’s hard in his jeans.

He smacks a hand against the steering wheel once, hard.

“Okay,” he says. “We should go.”

Jimin nods, reaching for his seatbelt.

Yoongi starts the car and pulls out of the spot. He tries taking deep breaths as he drives, but Jimin’s scent has grown musky, wet. He’s probably reacting to Yoongi’s own strong pre-rut scent.

“You okay?” Yoongi asks him, darting a glance Jimin’s way.

Jimin nods, legs crossed in his seat.

“I’m good!” he squeaks, cheeks red.

“Hey,” Yoongi calls softly, looking at Jimin while they wait at a red light. He rests his hand on Jimin’s thigh. “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s natural.”

Jimin whines, squeezing his eyes shut tight.

“Don’t talk about it,” he says, covering his face with his hands. “At least wait until we’re in the bedroom.”

Yoongi laughs quietly, giving Jimin’s thigh a light squeeze. He moves his hand back to the stick shift and puts the car in drive, pressing the gas pedal as the light turns green.

They’re quiet for the rest of the drive, navigating the quiet streets with the radio playing quietly. They pull into Yoongi’s driveway and make their way, one by one, into Yoongi’s home.

They stand in the foyer, looking at each other.

“Well.”

Yoongi licks his lips.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

Jimin lets his duffel bag fall to the floor by his feet.

“Yes.”

Yoongi frames Jimin’s face between both hands and pulls him in, pressing their lips together firmly.

Jimin kisses him back, wrapping his small hands around Yoongi’s wrists.

Yoongi walks them backward until Jimin’s back hits the door, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss. He sucks Jimin’s bottom lip into his mouth and lets it go with a pop, slipping his tongue into Jimin’s mouth.

Jimin moans softly, meeting Yoongi’s tongue with his own, stroking against each other, hot and wet. Yoongi’s cock twitches and he breathes out sharply through his nose, stepping closer. He turns Jimin’s head to the side, then slides his hands down to Jimin’s neck, thumbs on Jimin’s jaw. Jimin’s hands move to Yoongi’s shoulders, sliding around to warp around his neck.

Yoongi sucks Jimin’s tongue into his mouth and grinds their hips together, groaning at the friction on his hard cock. He pulls back to suck in a deep breath before diving back in, barely giving Jimin time to catch his own before their lips meet again, hips flush together.

Yoongi can smell Jimin’s wet cunt, the scent growing stronger the longer they kiss.

He groans into Jimin’s mouth, reaching down to cup the front of Jimin’s pants, fingers curling between his thighs to the damp denim between Jimin’s legs.

Jimin gasps, pulling out of the kiss, head thrown back against the door. His arms tighten around Yoongi’s neck.

“Yoongi,” Jimin parts his feet, taking a step wider.

Yoongi doesn’t respond, rubbing Jimin through his jeans. He latches his mouth onto the length of Jimin’s neck, sucking a hickey into the soft skin. He bites down and Jimin gasps, going tense.

It leaves a perfect impression of Yoongi’s teeth behind.

Yoongi rumbles low in his chest, laving over the bite with his tongue. He slips his second hand into the back of Jimin’s pants, bypassing his underwear to cup his bare asscheek and knead.

Jimin mewls, eyes closed, breathing fast.

Yoongi pulls his fingers from Jimin’s pussy and brings them up to his nose, taking a deep breath. He licks them, sticks them into his mouth and sucks until the taste of orange blossom disappears from his mouth.

“Fuck.” he growls, squeezing Jimin’s ass. He puts his forehead to Jimin’s shoulder. “Fuck.”

He rolls his hips into Jimin, using his grip on Jimin’s ass to rub them together.

“Can I fuck you?” he asks, eyes closed, breathing ragged.

“Please.”

Yoongi pulls his hand out of Jimin’s pants and turns him around by his hips, pushing him up against the door. He grinds his hard cock against the cleft of Jimins ass, panting against the back of Jimin’s neck.

“You smell so fucking good,” he groans, taking a step back to undo the button on his jeans. “You’re gonna feel so good around my cock.”

Jimin whimpers. He takes a step away from the door and arches his back, presenting himself.

Yoongi rumbles and unzips his pants, pulling his cock out of his jeans. He can see the wide circle of damp at the apex of Jimin’s pants. He reaches out a hand and presses his thumb to the center of it, closing his eyes at the heat emanating from Jimin’s soaking wet pussy.

Jimin wiggles his hips and Yoongi sucks in a deep breath. He steps up flush to Jimin’s ass and wraps his arms around, reaching for the fly of Jimin’s jeans. He undoes the button and lowers the zipper, tugging the pants down, down, down to Jimin’s knees. He doesn’t bother pushing down Jimin’s underwear, tucking two fingers under the flimsy crotch of them, knuckles immediately wet. He pulls them to the side and uses his other hand to guide the head of his cock to Jimin’s hot, wet cunt, sliding inside easily, without hesitation.

Jimin whimpers and moans, fingers curling under and scratching the dark wood of the door.

Yoongi pauses, throwing his head back with a moan, eyes closed. He pulls out slowly and slams back in, hitting Jimin’s cervix with a bruising force. He has his hands on Jimin’s hips, eyes glued to the place where his cock disappears inside Jimin’s cunt, fucking him hard and fast in the entryway.

He comes without knotting, leaving Jimin dripping semen down his inner thigh, head hanging between his shoulders as he pants with his hands still braced against the front door.

“Oh my god,” Jimin gasps, breathless. “Oh my god.”

“You okay?” Yoongi asks, hand on Jimin’s back. His soft cock is hanging out of his pants.

Jimin nods, waving Yoongi off.

“I’m good,” he pants, putting his hand back on the door. “Oh my god.”

“Sorry,” Yoongi says, rubbing the back of his neck. He tucks himself back into his pants.

“It’s okay,” Jimin says, straightening. He shimmies his pants down his legs and kicks them off, leaving him standing in his underwear. He turns to face Yoongi, cheeks a mottled red. “But I get to come too next time.”

It’s been four days and his labia chafe when he walks. Tender and sore, Jimin makes Yoongi bring him breakfast in bed each morning.

Yoongi does so without complaint, fucking Jimin awake before rolling out of bed to cook them something.

Sometimes Jimin wakes up in the night and Yoongi’s inside him, hips rocking gently into Jimin where they’re spooned together.

“How often do you fuck me while I’m sleeping?” he asks, curious, a spoonful of yogurt halfway to his mouth.

Yoongi shrugs.

“Three or four times.”

“Every night?!” Jimin asks, incredulous. He nearly drops his spoon.

Yoongi shrugs again, mouth full of ripe berries.

“Damn,” Jimin looks down into his parfait. He blinks. “That’s impressive.”

Yoongi snorts.

“That’s rut.”

Jimin hums.

“I knew it was a lot, but I still underestimated things I guess.”

“How are you feeling?” Yoongi asks, sitting cross-legged and nude in the bed, sheet covering his lower half.

“Sore,” Jimin answers honestly. Yoongi frowns. “But good!” Jimin ducks his head. “I’m good.”

“That’s good,” Yoongi murmurs. “Two days left.”

“Two days,” Jimin repeats. He shakes his head. “You’re gonna have to carry me home.”

“Can do,” Yoongi says.

Jimin laughs. He takes another bite of parfait. He wonders how many bite-shaped bruises are on his neck. He’s lost count of how many times Yoongi’s bitten him and he hasn’t seen himself in the mirror in a while.

“How bruised am I?” he asks.

Yoongi grimaces, guilty.

“You’re pretty purple,” he says.

Jimin looks down at himself. He nods.

“Yeah, I guess I could’ve extrapolated.”

“I don’t know,” Yoongi shifts. “Your neck is, uh, particularly mottled.”

Jimin sets his parfait aside on the nightstand to his right, standing from the bed without caring that he’s naked. He makes his way to the en-suite bathroom and flicks the light on, really taking in his reflection for the first time in a few days.

“Oh wow,” he breathes, turning his head to one side then the other, craning his neck. “Oh damn.”

He reaches up and presses two fingers to the tender skin, wincing lightly. It doesn’t feel so good when his body isn’t flushed with lust. He leans over the bathroom counter to get a closer look and identifies multiple sets of very clear bite marks on his neck and shoulders.

“Wow,” he blinks, swallowing hard. He licks his lips, wondering what those teeth marks would look like scarred into his skin.

He shakes the thought away as quickly as it comes, cheeks flushing.

“You alright?” Yoongi calls from the bed.

“I’m good!” Jimin yells back, swallowing hard. He looks himself in the eye in the mirror and says again, more quietly, “I’m good.”

He bounds back into the bedroom, bouncing onto the bed with a smile. Yoongi smiles back, his own parfait now set aside.

“Are you done?” Yoongi asks, nodding toward Jimin’s dish.

Jimin nods his head.

“Yeah,” he sighs, laying down on his side.

“Do you want to cuddle before round two?” Yoongi asks.

“Hmm,” Jimin pretends to think. “Yes.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, but shifts to lay down, scooting toward Jimin. He reaches out and puts a hand on Jimin’s waist, pulling him in. Jimin smiles, hiding his face in Yoongi’s neck. He likes how Yoongi feels holding him, their mingled scents filling the room.

I love you.

Jimin’s eyes go wide, grateful Yoongi can’t see his face. He burrows closer like the warmth of Yoongi’s skin can banish the thought from his mind, swallowing hard with tears burning at the backs of his eyes.

Taehyung was right.

Day six starts at two in the morning, Yoongi kissing Jimin’s shoulder until he stirs before rolling him onto his back with a warm hand, slipping between Jimin’s legs familiar and easy.

Jimin moans, breathy and high, body rocking back with every thrust of Yoongi’s cock inside him. He’s littered with bruises, aching and weak. He rests his hands on Yoongi’s shoulders, no longer having the strength to scratch and cling. He keeps his eyes closed, body lax. Yoongi’s pelvis rubs his raw clit and he whimpers, toes flexing lightly. He hadn’t been aware that this kind of pain could feel good before Yoongi wrung him out and kept going.

Jimin sighs softly, sliding his arms up to wrap them around Yoongi’s neck. He’s already come twice since Yoongi slipped inside, waiting patiently now for Yoongi to finish.

“I’m sleepy,” he mumbles. A yawn cracks his jaw, turning into a pained little moan halfway through; Yoongi’s teeth on his collarbone.

Yoongi noses at Jimin’s neck, scenting him and rumbling. His pace is steady, nearly mechanical. He doesn’t seem close or like he’s trying very hard to be at all.

“Yoongi…” Jimin whispers, fingers in Yoongi’s hair.

Yoongi shakes his head against Jimin’s skin, mouthing at his throat.

Jimin laughs quietly, body still rocking steadily.

He closes his eyes.

He opens them again and they’re knotted together, Yoongi’s hard cock pulsing inside him, filling him with seed. He sighs happily at the feeling, arms loose at his sides.

Yoongi is snoring lightly on top of him, breathing hot and damp against the underside of Jimin’s jaw. Jimin smiles a little, bringing a hand up to pet Yoongi’s hair.

“It’s over,” Yoongi mumbles, clinging.

“Oh,” Jimin blinks. “Thank god.”

Yoongi laughs quietly, body shaking with it.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “The urgency is all gone.”

“Well, that’s good,” Jimin murmurs, fingers carding through Yoongi’s sweaty hair. “Maybe we’ve made something now.”

A gust of breath leaves Yoongi’s mouth, making Jimin shiver.

“Maybe,” he says. “Hopefully.”

“Hopefully,” Jimin agrees, looking up at the ceiling. He doesn’t know what he’ll do with himself if they haven’t.

“Time is it?” Yoongi mumbles.

Jimin turns his head to the side and reaches for his phone where it lays on the nightstand, squinting against the bright light.

“3:02,” Jimin sets his phone back and closes his eyes.

“Mm, I can’t decide if I want to shower or sleep first when this knot goes down,” Yoongi says.

Jimin nods without looking.

“Shower,” he mumbles.

Yoongi laughs.

“You saying I stink?”

Jimin shakes his head.

“No, I mean me shower. I dunno what you’re gonna do.”

Yoongi laughs again, leaning up to press a kiss to Jimin’s lips.

Jimin guesses it’s allowed because they’re still locked together. He kisses back.

Yoongi groans, rocking into Jimin. He shakes his head, pulling back with his lip between his teeth.

“Don’t get me started again,” he says.

Jimin laughs.

“You kissed me.”

Yoongi groans again.

“I know,” he rocks his hips, knot moving minutely inside Jimin. His eyes are closed, forearms braced on either side of Jimin’s rib cage. “Fuck.”

Jimin whimpers. “Yoongi.”

Yoongi shakes his head. He thrusts, fucking Jimin with his knot, face creased up in pleasure-pain.

Jimin gasps, legs spread, Yoongi’s knot tugging him from the inside out. Jimin whimpers, mewling.

“Yoongi,” he says again.

“Sorry,” Yoongi groans with a shake of his head. He fucks Jimin harder.

Jimin moans, throwing his head back against the pillows.

“It’s okay,” he breathes, eyes closed. He catches his lower lip between his teeth and holds it, whimpering quietly with every thrust. “Feels good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jimin breathes the word, reaching up to wrap his arms around Yoongi’s neck. “What happens when you come while already knotted?”

Yoongi groans, grinding into Jimin.

“Knot lasts longer,” he gasps, pulling back until his knot stretches the entrance of Jimin’s cunt.

Jimin whines at the burn of it, gasping when Yoongi thrusts back in, cock slamming into Jimin’s bruised cervix. Jimin comes quickly, orgasm shaking through him and leaving him over sensitive and trembling.

Yoongi follows quickly behind, semen once again pulsing out of his cock, filling Jimin up with cum until there’s a little curve to his lower stomach and it leaks out around Yoongi’s knot.

Yoongi flops down on top of Jimin, panting and exhausted.

“Okay,” he says, eyes closed. “Now I’m finished.”

Jimin laughs, breathless.

Sitting in the dining chair is uncomfortable but Jimin doesn’t say anything, shifting minutely in his seat while Yoongi’s back is turned. It’s been a long, quiet morning. They’d taken turns showering around eleven and now Yoongi is making breakfast, three pans going at once as he stirs a berry compote and flips a crepe, eggs frying quietly on a back burner.

Jimin watches his bare back move, shoulder muscles shifting under Yoongi’s skin criss-crossed with scratches where Jimin’s fingernails bit into the skin leaving red welts behind.

“Smells so good,” Jimin says.

Yoongi smiles at him over his shoulder then turns back to the stove.

“Hopefully it’ll help you gain back some strength,” he says.

“Oh god,” Jimin groans. “I have to work tomorrow.”

Yoongi turns around with wide eyes blinking.

“What? Why?”

“I only asked for a week off,” Jimin whines.

Yoongi shakes his head.

“You’re gonna have to call them,” he says.

“I can’t just call them,” Jimin frowns.

“I’m serious,” Yoongi says. “If you explain the situation they’ll understand—you need at least three days post-rut to reach equilibrium, otherwise you are going to lose it when you leave this house.”

Jimin rolls his eyes.

“What does that even mean?”

“It means both hormonally and emotionally your body thinks we just mated. I bred you. And if you leave before you come down from it, your body will go into crisis mode thinking your alpha just rejected you and a rejected omega—“

“—has a high chance of rejecting any potential embryo too.” Jimin swallows hard, a sick feeling in his gut. “I know. I hadn’t thought about that.”

Yoongi frowns.

“Sorry, I just—”

“I know,” Jimin smiles reassuringly. “It’s okay; I’ll call.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you. I’m not really interested in going through rejection,” Jimin means that both ways, but he doesn’t expect Yoongi to know that. “I’ll call after we eat.”

Yoongi nods firmly and turns back to his cooking.

Jimin swallows a sigh.

“My god, you look like he tried to eat you,” are the first words Taehyung says when Jimin lets himself into their apartment three days later.

Jimin rolls his eyes.

“It kinda feels like he did,” he says. The aching has faded some, but his body is still tender. “I knew ruts were intense, but that was really intense.”

“Well, you sound good,” Taehyung says, turning to follow Jimin’s movement through the apartment, bag in hand. “You know I thought you’d come home crying.”

Jimin goes still. He swallows hard and shakes his head.

“Don’t push it,” he says.

Taehyung frowns, straightening where he sits.

“Wait, what happened?”

“Nothing,” Jimin snaps, short. He licks his lips. “I just—” he shakes his head, sudden tears burning at his lashes. “Dammit.”

He wipes at his cheeks and Taehyung stands, rounding the couch as Jimin lets his bag drop to the floor.

“He’s so sweet,” Jimin cries, wiping at his eyes. “And attentive and warm and we were laying there cuddling between rounds and I just— he just— I love him.”

Taehyung makes a wounded noise, pulling Jimin in.

“I’m sorry,” he says, tucking Jimin under his chin. He does his best to drown Yoongi’s warm scent out with his own woody vetiver. “I’m sorry, Jimin.”

Jimin sniffs, nose pressed to Taehyung’s collarbone.

“Aren’t you gonna say I told you so?” he asks.

Taehyung shakes his head.

“No,” he sighs, squeezing Jimin tight. “I didn’t want to be right.”

Jimin sniffles, eyes squeezed shut tight. He clings to Taehyung’s front.

“I’m so stupid,” he whispers. “I should’ve listened to you.”

Taehyung rubs his back.

“You’re not stupid. You’re very brave and kind and you have the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met.”

Jimin cries harder and Taehyung holds him tight.

“Drink?” Taehyung offers from the kitchen.

Jimin rolls his eyes.

“I can’t,” he gripes, arms crossed over his chest. He’s sitting on the sofa. He sighs. “But you can bring me some water.”

Taehyung nods, reaching into a cupboard for a glass and dispensing some water from the filter in the fridge. He brings it to Jimin, beer in his other hand for himself.

“So, what now?” Taehyung asks.

Jimin shrugs.

“I need to build some distance in, I guess. Stop being so—so accommodating. Vulnerable.”

“Vulnerable,” Taehyung echoes. There’s a moment of quiet. “I think the problem is that you work very well together.”

Jimin’s eyes crease, immediately blurring.

“Don’t say that.”

Taehyung sighs.

“Sorry. I’m just saying—”

“Well don’t.”

“—it sounded like you guys have a lot of chemistry.”

Jimin shakes his head.

“Yeah, from my point of view,” he sighs. “I’m an unreliable narrator at best.”

Taehyung frowns. He pets Jimin’s hair.

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

“It’s okay,” Jimin murmurs. “I just have to be more professional. Distant.” Jimin squeezes his eyes shut. He sighs. “I wish we’d met differently.”

“Me and you?”

Jimin swats Taehyung on the chest, rolling his eyes.

“Me and Yoongi, obviously.”

Taehyung smiles a little. “I know.”

Jimin huffs. He steps on Taehyung’s foot.

Taehyung doesn’t flinch.

“You’re so—”

“Annoying?”

“Yes.”

Yoongi has been locked in the studio for three days, burying himself in work. His phone is in his pocket at all times, sound turned up as high as it will go in case Jimin calls him.

Jimin has been strange the past three weeks, distant. He hasn’t texted Yoongi about his day or called him for a ride or to talk about the new annoying thing Taehyung has done or work or—

Jimin hasn’t been talking to him like he usually does, responding shortly to Yoongi’s check-in texts and keeping things purely professional otherwise.

Yoongi doesn’t know how to ask what he did to fuck things up.

He sits back in his computer chair with a sigh and digs his phone out of his back pocket, checking it for the millionth time.

He sighs. He sets it on his desk and turns his attention back to his computer, pulling his headphones on over his ears. Almost immediately, his phone begins to ring. He rips the headphones off and snatches his phone up off the desk without checking the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Alpha Min,” there’s a smile in the person’s voice. “This is Hyuna from the clinic.”

“Oh, hello, how are you?”

“I’m doing well, Alpha Min, thank you. I’m actually calling with an update on your case.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Not at all! We actually have happy news for you today.”

Yoongi blinks.

“Oh, well, what is it?”

Hyuna laughs.

“Your surrogate, Jimin. We spoke this afternoon and he’s let us know he took a positive pregnancy test this morning! He’ll be coming in later this week for us to confirm with bloodwork, but it sounds like you’re well on your way to holding your baby in your arms.”

The blood drains from Yoongi’s face. He fumbles his phone and has to shake himself. He clears his throat.

“Oh— uh, thank you. Wow. That’s—” there are tears in Yoongi’s eyes. “That’s amazing.”

They exchange pleasantries and goodbyes and Yoongi sets his phone down. He sits for a long moment, drumming his fingers against the desktop.

He stands.

He snatches his keys and wallet from the coffee table behind him in his office and heads out the door, taking the stairs two at a time down to the parking garage level. He leaves the music off as he drives, navigating familiar roads to Jimin’s apartment. He parks in his usual spot in the apartment complex and makes his way steadily up the stairs.

He knocks on Jimin’s door.

Jimin pulls it open with his face turned away, talking to someone inside.

Seeing him is a punch to the gut.

Jimin is rolling his eyes as he turns toward Yoongi, mouth fixed to say “Hello.” but he’s stymied by Yoongi’s presence, face gone white as a sheet.

“Yoongi,” he breathes, eyes darting back and forth over Yoongi’s face. “Hi.”

“The clinic called me,” Yoongi says and Jimin blushes, head down.

“Oh,” he curls his fingers together. “So, you heard.”

“I did.”

“Congratulations,” Jimin’s smile is forced, hands held out to his sides, palms forward, fingers splayed, celebrating.

“Jimin—”

“You didn’t have to come all this way though. It’s just a pregnancy test—too early to get excited, really.”

“Jimin—”

“We were actually just about to go out,” Jimin says, standing in pajamas, slippers on, face clean of makeup.

Yoongi closes his eyes.

“What did I do?” he asks. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Like what?” Jimin blinks.

And blinks.

A tear runs down his cheek and Jimin sniffles, wiping it hastily away.

Yoongi frowns.

“Jimin, baby, talk to me.”

“Don’t call me that!” Jimin snaps, wiping at his cheeks. The tears are coming steadily now. “Fuck. You— you can’t call me that.”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi whispers. His fingers itch to dry Jimin’s tears. “I—” he shakes his head. “I can’t say I didn’t mean it.”

Jimin’s eyes go wide. He looks up slowly.

“What?” his voice is quiet, small.

Yoongi clears his throat.

“I can’t say I didn’t mean it,” he repeats.

“Mean what?” Jimin asks. He slowly lowers his hands from his face, no longer crying, but his eyes are red-rimmed, face swollen.

Yoongi swallows hard.

“I— I care about you, Jimin.”

“You care about me?” Jimin asks. He shakes his head, looking away. “Of course you do, Yoongi. I’m giving you a baby.”

Yoongi shakes his head.

“Jimin,” he waits for Jimin to meet his gaze. He braces himself. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

The words ring in Jimin’s ears.

“No you don’t,” Jimin says, shaking his head. He takes a step back. “You’re just saying that ‘cause I’m having your baby.”

“No,” Yoongi shakes his head before looking Jimin straight in the eye. “I’m not.”

Jimin swallows hard.

“You’re just saying that,” he whispers.

“Jimin.”

“Yoongi, please,” Jimin pleads. “Just go home.”

Yoongi shakes his head.

“No, not until you listen to me.”

“You haven’t said anything.”

“I said I love you,” Yoongi repeats, forceful. He takes a step closer. “And I meant it.”

Jimin shakes his head, eyes blurring with tears. He gasps a breath and sobs.

“This is weirdly threatening,” Taehyung says from behind him and Jimin’s never been so relieved to hear his voice.

“Please tell him to go home, Tae,” Jimin says, voice wobbling.

Taehyung frowns at Jimin then turns to frown at Yoongi. He scratches behind his ear.

“Come in,” he says.

Jimin turns to him wide-eyed, betrayed.

“Tae,” he hisses.

Taehyung looks vaguely guilty, but he stands firm.

“You guys need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about!”

“I’ve said what I need to say,” Yoongi agrees.

Jimin turns back to him, hand fisted in front of his chest.

“You did?”

Yoongi nods, staring Jimin in the eyes.

“Now I just need to know what you say.”

Jimin swallows hard. He looks away.

“Jimin…” Yoongi murmurs. “If you don’t feel the same way just say so and I’ll go.”

Jimin licks his lips, eyelashes filling with tears.

“I—” he hiccups a sob, head down. He whispers. “I don’t love you.”

Taehyung snorts.

Jimin whips around to glare.

“Go away, traitor.”

Taehyung puts his hands up in surrender and walks back into the house.

Jimin crosses his arms over his chest, holding himself tight.

“How do you know you love me and it’s not just baby fever?” he asks, head down.

“Jimin,” Yoongi starts softly. “How do I know? Because you haven’t been texting me at all these past weeks and I’ve been miserable with missing you. Because you're smart and funny and passionate and brave. Because the day we met I thought you were the sweetest, most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. Because I knew I loved you before that phone call and it broke my heart to think of doing it all alone,” Yoongi takes a deep breath. He straightens. “I don’t want to raise this baby without you.”

“You mean it?” Jimin asks. He wipes tears from his cheeks. “You have to mean it, Yoongi.”

“I mean it,” Yoongi steps closer and Jimin lets himself be wrapped up in a hug. “I mean it. I love you.”

Jimin whimpers, clinging to Yoongi’s shirt.

“I love you too,” he whispers.

Yoongi holds him closer, squeezing him tight.

“Awesome,” Taehyung breaks in. “Now can you close the door? You’re letting the cold in.”

#my fic #ioht #yoonmin fic #yoonmin au #yoonmin fanfiction #ym au #ym fic #ym smut #yoonmin smut #trans park jimin #top myg #top yoongi #top min yoongi #top!yoongi

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themininthemoon · 10 months

Text

What’s Your Emergency?

CHAPTER 1 | AO3

“You’re kinda. . .younger than I expected.” Yoongi says after a moment of awkward silence.

Jimin Park blinks at him. He tilts his head to the side, an amused smile curling his lips.

“Did you think all nanny’s were just born middle-aged, matronly women?” He asks.

OR: Yoongi has recently moved to a new city following the death of his wife, Jieun. In searching for childcare for his son he finds Jimin.

“You’re kinda. . .younger than I expected.” Yoongi says after a moment of awkward silence.

Jimin Park blinks at him. He tilts his head to the side, an amused smile curling his lips.

“Did you think all nanny’s were just born middle-aged, matronly women?” He asks.

Yoongi blinks.

“I guess I hadn’t thought about it too hard before. When I called the nanny service and they said they’d be sending another candidate over, I guess I just assumed you’d be the same.”

Jimin nods.

“Most people do.” He sounds casual, but his hands are gripping his knees tight, expression softened into a frown without him realizing.

Yoongi frowns back.

“You don’t usually get the job.” He says.

Jimin purses his lips. He shakes his head.

“How many interviews have you been to?”

“Seventeen.” Jimin admits.

Yoongi nods. He sits back against the couch, settling in.

“Tell me about your credentials.” He says.

Jimin straightens to attention where he sits.

“You want to hear about my credentials?” Jimin asks, eyes wide with surprise.

“Of course I do.” Yoongi hm’s. “If you’re going to be watching my child I want to be sure you’re qualified.”

“I’m very qualified!” Jimin insists, scooting forward a little in his seat. “I’m CPR and First Aid certified, NICP certified, PNCP certified, and I helped my mother run a daycare for years! I know what I’m doing. I just need a chance.”

Yoongi takes this information in with an impassive expression, one arm along the back of the sofa where he sits.

“Why childcare?” He asks.

Jimin blinks.

“I– I’ve always done it.” Jimin says, like the question is strange to him. “My mom has run a daycare my whole life. I grew up there and then when I was old enough I worked there and I’ve never gotten tired of it. I’ve never– I love children.” Jimin shrugs, helpless. “I love watching them learn and grow and getting to be a part of that process. I love– love to see them explore and discover new things about the world and themselves and–and– I think. I think it’s a kind of magic to watch a baby grow into a toddler. To see them become a person all of their own.”

Yoongi nods.

He thinks.

He stands, slapping his calloused palms against his thighs as he pushes himself up out of his seat.

“Haneul should be awake soon; do you want to meet him?”

Jimin’s eyes are wide, glassy.

“Really?”

Yoongi nods, “Can’t hire someone he doesn’t like, no matter how qualified you are.”

“I— okay!” Jimin stands quickly, an anxious figure as he follows Yoongi down the hall.

Haneul is asleep when Yoongi pushes open the door to the nursery. He snores softly in his crib, head turned to the side. Yoongi walks over and reaches in, rubbing the baby’s belly gently to wake him.

Haneul huffs, blinking his eyes open.

Yoongi smiles, lifting his son from the crib. Haneul rests his head on Yoongi’s shoulder, immediately closing his eyes again.

Yoongi huffs, amused, eyes crinkling in a smile.

“Haneul.” He nudges, jostling the boy lightly in his arms.

Haneul opens his eyes reluctantly, squinting in the dim nursery, a tiny fist curled in the front of Yoongi’s shirt.

Jimin smiles, the grin unfurling across his face without conscious thought.

“He’s sweet.” Jimin says.

Yoongi snorts, bringing a hand up to cradle the back of Haneul’s head, pressing a kiss to his son's crown.

“He’s sweet now.” Yoongi says, shaking head, but his smile is fond. “He’s almost walking now. It’s—“ a shadow crosses Yoongi’s face. “It’s amazing to see.”

Jimin keeps himself from frowning. He doesn’t comment on the break in Yoongi’s words.

“This is a fun age.” He says instead.

“Yeah.” Yoongi agrees, a little wistful. He looks up at Jimin, adjusting his grip on Haneul. “Are you ready?”

“Ready—?”

Yoongi’s holding the baby out to him. Jimin’s eyes go as wide as Haneul’s, who’s kicking his legs in the air. Jimin takes him as soon as it registers, cradling Haneul to his chest. He settles against Jimin easily enough, wide eyes on Jimin’s face. Slowly, he reaches out, tiny hand on Jimin’s cheek.

“Ba!” He declares.

Jimin blinks, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Hello to you too.” He says.

Haneul proceeds to babble at Jimin for the next few minutes while Jimin nods and makes noises of agreement, a soft smile on his face.

Abruptly, Haneul turns to Yoongi, holding out his arms.

“Dada!”

“Finally remembered I’m here, huh?” Yoongi jokes as he takes Haneul from Jimin’s arms.

Yoongi nods toward the door of the nursery and Jimin follows him out and down the hall to the kitchen. He sets Haneul into his high chair then turns to Jimin.

“He seems to like you.” Yoongi starts and Jimin’s heart starts pounding, clenching his fists in anticipation, fingernails biting into his palms. “And you’re highly qualified, passionate.” Yoongi eyes him critically and Jimin swallows hard. “Can you start Wednesday?”

Jimin sucks in a sharp breath, tears pricking at the backs of his eyes. He nods his head sharply.

“Yes! Yes, I can be here.”

“Excellent. Why don’t I feed him and we can talk a bit more before you decide to take the job — I keep weird hours.”

Jimin tilts his head to the side.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m a first responder.” Yoongi explains. “I work twenty-four hour shifts and spend some time on call.”

Jimin blinks. “That’s a long time.”

There’s a wry twist to Yoongi’s lips, “I’ve had five Nannie’s refuse once they heard the hours I keep.”

“That must be difficult.” Jimin says quietly.

Yoongi sighs.

“We just moved here.” He says. “After— my grandmother is in the area; she’s been a big help, but she’s getting too old to watch after a young child, especially for such extended periods and I can’t afford to delay my start date at the new station.”

“Wednesday.” Jimin says.

Yoongi nods.

“That’s three days from now.” Jimin looks down at his feet. “Would you be considering hiring me if you weren’t in such a tight space?”

Yoongi huffs.

“That’s not really a fair question — I’m limited on time, but I also care about who I leave my son with. I wouldn’t let just anyone take care of him.”

Jimin’s ears are burning.

“Sorry, that was a silly question to ask — I should be thankful you’re giving me a chance.”

“It’s okay. You’re fi—“

Haneul starts fussing from his high chair and Yoongi curses under his breath, turning sharply on his heel.

“Sorry, bud. Daddy didn’t forget about you.”

Jimin watches Yoongi put Haneul’s lunch together, a small plate of leftover rice and scrambled egg and some honeydew.

He’s going to get more of it on himself then in himself, but Jimin is sure Yoongi knows that.

Yoongi turns back to him, wiping his hands off on a towel he discards to the counter.

“What do you do?” Jimin asks, curious. “I know you said first responder, but that could mean a few different things.”

“Firefighter/EMT.” Yoongi says, standing with his arms crossed over his chest.

The stance emphasizes the muscles in his arms and Jimin thinks, yes, I can see that.

He blinks the thought away.

“That must be a difficult job.”

Yoongi shrugs, “All jobs are in their own way.”

Jimin arches a brow but doesn’t disagree.

“So, do you want the job?” Yoongi asks.

Jimin thinks about it. Twenty-four hours is a long time to be “on”, but he and Haneul will both sleep for part of that time.

“Where will I sleep?” Jimin asks, the thought breaking through.

Yoongi turns sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I don’t have a guest room,” He admits, “but I don’t mind you using my bed.”

Jimin blinks. Considers the intimacy of that before deciding it’s fine.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

Jimin nods.

“I’ll take the job.”

A whoosh of air leaves Yoongi’s body in one long push, deflating him in relief. He sighs and builds himself back up to smile at Jimin.

“Thank you.”

Jimin shakes his head.

“Thank you.”

Jimin tosses and turns Tuesday night, unable to fall asleep. His nerves have him up at four in the morning, fully dressed with a bag packed, ready to spend twenty-four hours with his young charge. His leg shakes and his coffee grows cold, sitting untouched between his warm palms. The alarm on his phone goes off at five-thirty and he jumps in his seat, quick to silence it, looking behind himself to check that his roommate hasn’t been disturbed.

The fan continues to whir in Taehyung’s bedroom.

Jimin sighs in relief, knowing Taehyung keeps late hours. He stands from the table and pours his coffee down the drain, rinsing the mug before putting it in the strainer. He heads for the front door, pulling on his sneakers and grabbing his bag and keys before heading out.

It’s a thirty minute ride to the Min house.

Jimin drives in silence. His hands sweat on the steering wheel.

It’s his first real job since being contracted with the agency.

He pulls into the driveway at the Min residence and the lights are already on, a shadow moving past the blinds. Jimin gets out of his car and is careful to shut the door quietly, not wanting to disturb the neighbors.

He knocks on the door quietly too.

Yoongi opens the door in his uniform, dark blue button up with a pocket on the front, his last name embroidered on a patch on the right side. He’s wearing a matching pair of Dickies.

“Jimin, hey, come in.” he ushers Jimin through the door, a little urgency in his tone. “He’s still asleep — do you think I should wake him for the transition or let him sleep?”

“Oh, I—“ Jimin’s in the middle of pulling off his sneakers, bag on the floor beside him. “You should probably wake him. We don't want him to wake up later with a stranger and no idea where you are.”

Yoongi nods decisively and heads down the hallway. A moment later Jimin hears crying. Yoongi and Haneul appear in the hallway, rocking to soothe the baby’s tears.

Jimin’s standing in the middle of the living room, waiting as they approach.

“It’s okay, buddy, look who’s here,” Yoongi coos. He turns Haneul towards Jimin and Haneul begins to quiet. “That’s right it's Mr. Jimin; he’s here to stay with you today.”

Haneul’s cries have stopped as he stares curiously at Jimin. He reaches his arms out, making grabby hands, and they transition the baby from one set of arms to the other without fuss. Haneul rests his head against Jimin’s collarbone and closes his eyes.

Yoongi smiles, a little wistful. He darts in to press a soft kiss to the side of Haneul’s head before grabbing his duffel bag from the sofa and heading for the door. He mouths a ‘thank you’ before leaning down to lace up his boots.

He’s out the door moments later and Haneul is asleep against Jimin’s chest.

“Let’s put you back to bed.” Jimin murmurs.

The next two hours give Jimin time to familiarize himself with the house, opening cabinets in the kitchen and checking drawers, giving himself the tour Yoongi probably should have before leaving Jimin with the baby for twenty-four hours.

Jimin doesn’t stew on the thought for long, knowing Yoongi must have been stressed about the situation and eager to start work on the right foot.

He understands.

So, he finds the baby food and the formula, the toys in the nursery and where the diapers are kept, getting to know the house and its occupants before the first cries pierce the calm of the morning.

Yoongi opens his text thread with Jimin and looks at the picture of Haneul in his crib again. He’s sleeping, lips parted slightly, and Yoongi can practically hear his son’s soft, snuffling snore.

“What’re you looking at Min?” One of his co-workers – Williamson – asks, sidling up beside Yoongi with an apple in his hand.

He’s the friendliest of Yoongi’s new co-workers by far.

Yoongi clears his throat.

“Uh, my son, Haneul.” He says, turning his phone to show off the photo.

“He’s cute.” Williamson says, taking a bite of his apple. “He at home with the wife?”

Jieun’s face flashes through Yoongi’s mind. He shakes his head.

“Nanny.” He says, “My, uh, wife passed away.”

“Shit, I’m sorry man.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi looks back at the picture of Haneul. “Me too.”

The bell goes before the conversation can continue and Yoongi rushes to the ambulance bay, climbing up into the passenger seat beside his new partner, Namjoon.

“How’s your first day treating you?” Namjoon asks conversationally as they make their way to the call.

“Good,” Yoongi says, nodding to himself. “It feels good to get back in the saddle.”

“Yeah? How long were you out?” Namjoon asks.

“Ten months?”

Namjoon fails to hide his surprise.

“That’s a long time. What were you up to?”

“Taking care of my son.” Yoongi says.

“You’ve got a kid?”

Yoongi nods, “Haneul. He’s ten months old.”

“Ah, gotcha. You took care of him while the wife worked?”

Yoongi holds back a sigh.

“She’s dead.” He says.

Namjoon’s head snaps around to look at Yoongi, eyes wide.

“Shit, sorry.”

“The road, Namjoon.” Yoongi reminds him.

Namjoon flushes, turning his attention back in front of him.

“Sorry.”

Yoongi shakes his head, a little amused.

“It’s okay.”

They’re quiet for a long moment.

“What was her name?” Namjoon asks, tone gentle.

“Jieun.” Yoongi clears his throat, shifting in his seat. “We met at the hospital.”

“Yeah? Dropping off a patient?”

“Dropping me off.” Yoongi laughs quietly. “Ice on the ladder and I took a nosedive. Got a grade three concussion.”

“Damn.”

Yoongi nods.

“She was my EEG tech.” He says with a little smile. “Apparently I was real discombobulated. I was out of work for almost two months.”

“Post-concussion syndrome?” Namjoon asks.

Yoongi shakes his head. “Thankfully not.”

“That’s good.” Namjoon nods. He turns the wheel and they park in front of a pale blue bungalow. He puts the rig in park. “Let’s get to it.”

“So your wife’s dead?”

Yoongi startles, fumbling the tangerine he’s been peeling.

It’s three in the morning.

He turns slowly around to find the station’s probie looking at him with wide, curious eyes.

“What.”

“I heard it from Williamson.” Jungkook says, still with that earnestly curious gaze.

Yoongi turns back to his tangerine.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” He asks.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Jungkook asks, taking the seat beside Yoongi at the dining table in the station kitchen.

Yoongi eyes him skeptically.

“She died ten months ago.” He says.

“That’s not very long.”

“No. It isn’t.”

They’re quiet. Yoongi eats a few sections of his tangerine.

“My mom died.” Jungkook offers. “It’s been a few years, but still. I mean– I kind of get it.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you miss her?”

Yoongi sighs.

“Is this how you make friends, Jungkook? Asking emotionally draining questions?”

Jungkook is quiet.

“Sorry.” He mumbles.

Yoongi feels bad.

“Of course I miss her.” He says, “I miss her every day.”

Jungkook nods.

“I miss my mom too.”

Yoongi knocks their shoulders together.

“Do you want one of these tangerines?”

Hot water sluices down Yoongi’s body, taking the past twenty-four hours with it. He rushes through his shower, eager to get home to Haneul. He dries off perfunctorily and puts his civvies on, waving goodbye to his new coworkers as he makes his way out to the parking lot.

Pulling into his own driveway is a relief.

Yoongi sits in the front seat of his car for a long moment, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slow before grabbing his duffle bag from the backseat and opening the door to climb out. He lets himself into the house and is hit by a wall of sound. It resolves itself into music after a second, some old-fashioned crooner coming from the kitchen. He follows the sound and finds his nanny in the kitchen, dancing in front of Haneul in his highchair.

Jimin has a spatula held up to his lips like a microphone, singing along to the music. Haneul giggles, clapping his hands together, and Jimin beams, reaching out to wipe a bit of scrambled egg from Haneul’s cheek.

He spins in place.

He screams as his turn faces him toward Yoongi.

Yoongi jumps at the sound, eyes wide.

Haneul begins to cry.

Jimin rushes to turn the music down, turning the stove off before moving back to Haneul, lifting him out of his highchair to shush him.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” He soothes, hand rubbing Haneul’s back, “Your daddy scared me.”

“Sorry.” Yoongi says.

Jimin waves him off.

“It’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting to see you there.”

“In my own house?” Yoongi teases.

Jimin purses his lips. “I lost track of time.”

“I’m just kidding.” Yoongi assures him.

Jimin nods, still swaying with Haneul in his arms.

“He seems to like you.” Yoongi says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Jimin looks down at Haneul and smiles.

“I think we’re getting along pretty well.”

“He behaved then?”

“As well as a baby can.” Jimin says.

Yoongi huffs, amused. He reaches his hands out.

“Give him here.”

Jimin passes a happy Haneul over.

As soon as he’s in Yoongi’s arms he begins to cry. Yoongi looks up, bewildered and Jimin laughs.

“He just missed you!” He says over the desperate wailing.

Yoongi sways where he stands, cradling Haneul to his chest. The baby’s cries eventually taper off, but his tiny hands cling to the front of Yoongi’s shirt.

“I mean it.” Jimin says, catching Yoongi’s attention. “Kids are like that: fine all day and then mom or dad shows up and it suddenly hits them that they’ve been apart so they cry.”

Yoongi nods, pressing a kiss to the crown of Haneul’s head.

“Thank you.”

Jimin nods.

“Yeah, I—“ He looks around, grabbing his phone off the kitchen counter. He turns to Yoongi. “There’s eggs — I wasn’t sure what you liked—“

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“—but I was cooking for myself anyway.”

“Thank you.” Yoongi says after a pause. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem.” Jimin rocks back on his heels. “I should probably go.”

“Yeah, of course.” Yoongi gestures toward the front door. “You’re free.”

Jimin laughs, ducking his head.

“Yeah, okay.” He rubs Haneul on the back. “Bye Sweet One, I’ll see you in two days.” Jimin takes his hand back, offering Yoongi a smile. “I’ll see you Saturday, Mr. Min.”

“Yoongi’s fine.” Yoongi says. He clears his throat. “See you then.”

Jimin nods, smiling. He goes and grabs his bag from the couch and heads out the door.

“How was it?” Taehyung asks, sitting at the kitchen table when Jimin gets home.

Jimin jumps, startled. He drops his bag by the front door.

“You scared the shit out of me.” He grumbles, hand to his chest as he kicks off his shoes.

“Sorry.” Taehyung says, not sorry at all. “How was it?”

“Fine.” Jimin says. He pauses to think. “Good, actually. It was– really good. Haneul is the sweetest baby and Mr. Min was nice.”

“That’s good.” Taehyung nods decisively. “I’m glad.”

“Me too.” Jimin sighs, heading for the kitchen to join Taehyung at the table. He takes a seat. “I can’t believe I finally got a steady job.”

“I always believed in you.” Taehyung says.

Jimin arches a brow.

“So you’re not the one who downloaded the indeed app on my phone?”

Taehyung purses his lips. “No comment.”

Jimin rolls his eyes, amused.

“You’re terrible.”

“I just thought you might want to try a different career path.”

Jimin rolls his eyes harder.

“Childcare is literally all I’m qualified to do.”

“You could teach!”

Jimin wrinkles his nose.

“No thank you.”

Taehyung huffs.

“Well it doesn’t matter now – you’ve got Mr. Min paying you good money.”

“Twenty dollars an hour.” Jimin agrees.

“Still not as much as me–” Jimin rolls his eyes again. “--but I know it’s better than most nannies.”

“Not everyone can be a programmer.” Jimin says.

“Of course not. You have to be uber smart, fun, and beautiful.” Taehyung says, hands held out to his sides in a ‘what can you do?’ gesture. “Which is why I thought you should have done it with me.”

Jimin laughs, knocking his foot into Taehyung’s under the table.

“You’re annoying.”

Taehyung puffs up, proud.

“The most annoying.”

Jimin can’t help but smile, shaking his head.

“Whatever. Have you eaten?”

Taehyung shakes his head.

“Yeah? Me neither. You good with eggs?”

“I thought you’d eat before coming home.” Taehyung frowns.

“I was going to, but Mr. Min came home earlier than I thought.”

“Oh, was he mad you were cooking?”

“Oh, no! I just– I thought I best get home since he was there to take over.” Jimin explains as he stands from the table and heads for the fridge. “I didn’t want to overstep.”

Taehyung shrugs, watching Jimin pull out a few eggs.

“You should just ask him if it’s okay next time.”

“This is my first real job, Tae.” Jimin sets the eggs aside on the counter and reaches in one of the bottom cabinets for a pan. “I don’t want to fuck it up.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, “You’re not gonna fuck it up. You’re great with kids.”

“Let’s hope Mr. Min thinks so.”

Ch 2.

#my fic #wye #yoonmin au #yoonmin fic #yoonmin fanfiction #ym au #ym fic #ym fanfic #top myg #top yoongi #trans park jimin

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