🥪Please Accept My Inkigayo Sandwich: Jimin’s POV

[A/N: Yoongi is drunk. Jimin helps him get to the dorm.]

“Is it alright if we drop Yoongi off first?”

Jimin glances up from his phone screen and locks eyes with Yoongi’s manager, Sejin, on the rearview mirror.

“Your dorm’s a bit further down south and this one’s already out of it, so.”

“That’s no trouble.” He nods and sends Manager Sejin a prim smile, then side-eyes a passed out Yoongi in the seat beside his. “I’m the one in debt here, really.”

Sejin’s eyes soften. “I’d really appreciate that, but don’t trouble yourself.” They turn into a fancy building’s underground vehicle drop-off. “Here we here.”

Jimin turns to Yoongi, whose sleeping face is beguilingly peaceful. When he’s not busy sneering or sulking, the guy actually looks acceptable human. Borderline cute. Almost.

“Sunbae.” Yoongi barely stirs. Jimin pokes his shoulder again. “Sunbae, we’re at your dorm. Your manager said he’ll drop you off, first since my dorm’s farther.”

Yoongi mumbles something incoherent, one hand coming up to scratch at his chest. He shifts his head, then groans. “Noooo.”

Jimin sighs, still flabbergasted at the stark difference between drunk and sober Yoongi. “All right, you old lug. Let’s go.”

“He awake, Jimin-ssi?” Manager Sejin’s voice sounds as the van’s door slides open and Jimin gestures to the man in question. Sejin eyes Yoongi’s semi-unconscious form. “I might need help bringing him up?”

“Okay. Give me a sec.” Jimin hops out the van and opts for helping to lift Yoongi’s heavily booted feet.

Manager Sejin steps forward, and in one fluid motion somehow gathers the rapper in his arms, bridal style. No more than three steps later, Yoongi starts kicking and flailing.

“Put- put me down! I can walk.”

Jimin watches, half-amused and half-patronizing, as the rapper slips out of Sejin’s grasp and wobbles as soon as his legs touch the ground. What a stupid big clown of a baby.

“Yeah, no.” Clucking his tongue impatiently, Jimin bounds forward, bends down and secures Yoongi’s forearms around his neck. Then he stands and piggybacks the rapper all the way up to the lobby. From this close, the mild scent of soap and a deeper woodsy musk penetrates Jimin’s nose, almost making him do a double take just to sniff it again. Must be some kind of perfume Yoongi is wearing. But it’s unique too, in its own way, because of a soft vanilla-like note just beneath the surface.

“Slay,” Yoongi mumbles sleepily while they wait for the elevator. It is vocabulary reminiscent of a certain maknae Jimin knows all too well. He suppresses a surprised smile.

“Sounds like someone I know.”

Yoongi is surprisingly heavier than Jimin expected. His cheek, pressed against the slope of Jimin’s shoulder, is warm, and it jiggles as Jimin brisk-walks to the right door with the guidance of Manager Sejin. The short trip alone makes him sweat, and as soon as they enter the dorm, Jimin politely asks if he could have a sip of water.

“Sure,” says Manager Sejin, eyes flickering to Yoongi in hesitation. “Could you help send him to his room? Last door down the hallway.”

Jimin nods, obliging. He nudges the door of Yoongi’s bedroom open, and is pleasantly surprised to be met with a neat, minimalist room decorated in mostly neutral colours.

He first deposits the rapper on his double bed with dark grey sheets, then surveys the room with curiosity. Light grey curtains bracketed by bookshelves on either side of the window. A black wooden desk stands next to the plain wall — the only piece of furniture cluttered with writing paraphernalia and various sound system devices.

“Home sweet home, huh,” Jimin remarks offhandedly. Next to the speakers is a lava lamp in the shape of a rocket, or perhaps a spaceship. A pretty neat room, really.

“Nah.”

Jimin’s gaze cuts to Yoongi, waving a hand in the air. “Not home.”

Jimin pads closer to the bed, watching the way moonlight settles over half of Yoongi’s features, then casts shadows on the other half. When he looks this serene, Jimin is reminded of a moon—never fully concealed, but never fully exposed, either.

“So,” he says thoughtfully. “Where’s home?”

Yoongi smacks his lips together audibly, twisting his body away. After a few more seconds with no answer, Jimin shrugs. A non-answer, then.

“….Okay, whatever. In any case, you’re welcome,” he says, recalling particular moments during the shoot, and still being unable to reconcile the many sides he’d seen of Min Yoongi in just one day.

“Mmm.”

I can’t stand the way he looked at you. Jimin licks his lower lip, contemplating for a moment before adding, “And thank you. For tonight.”

“Mmm.”

Watching his sleeping form, Jimin begins to wonder if the man is capable of sincerity and good deeds after all. “Good night.”

“Go away.”

Jimin huffs, turning away as he shoves his hands into his pockets. As he does so, his fingers brush somethung bulky and solid in his left pocket. Jimin hums, then pulls out the taser that Yoongi had insisted he take in the car. Why Jimin accepted it, he can’t really say.

Such a goof, he thinks, turning the taser over in his hands. He waves it in the air, then brings the pronged-part of the taser gun closer to his nose just to see if he can sniff the electric current running through the device. Unwittingly, his index finger accidentally pulls the trigger.

It all happens in a split-second.

Startled with alarm, Jimin’s hand jerks. The taser knocks against his chin, then an electric current shoots up through his skin, rendering him incapacitated. Eyes closing, Jimin falls backward and collapses on the bed on top of Yoongi, limbs turned to putty.

————————————

“These slobs,” Sejin mutters to himself, shaking his head at the empty pitcher in the fridge. Can’t even be trusted to refill their cold drinking water! What else could he possibly offer a thirsty Park Jimin?

Scanning the fridge, Sejin’s gaze lands on an almost-empty carton of milk, and pours it all into a glass. Hopefully singer would be okay with milk.

Sejin slowly walks towards Yoongi’s bedroom, which is ajar. The only light coming from it is the faint glow from a lava lamp.

He peers into the room, and muffles a gasp.

Yoongi and Jimin are sleeping on Yoongi’s bed.

Sejin enters the bedroom, surveying the two idols and wondering how that came about. As far as he knows, the two aren’t exactly the best of friends. How did this arrangement come to be?

He is pulled out of his thoughts by a vibrating sound, and realizes it’s coming from Jimin’s side pocket. Sejin gingerly reaches for the phone half-jutting out of the cargo pants and sees MANAGER NOONA on the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Jimin-ah, where are- is this Jimin?”

“Hi,” says Sejin, eyeing the sleeping duo. They look so at ease while resting that it would feel rude to interrupt their peace, especially after such a hectic schedule. He sips the glass of milk—nobody else will be consuming it, after all.

“This is Yoongi’s manager. I don’t think you need to worry. They’re having a sleepover.”

[A/N: Comments keep me alive! Feel free to scream here or on twitter hehe🥪💕]