Jungkook's response is rough and indignant and Jimin doesn't bother fighting another giggle, still carding his fingers through the younger boys's dark, smooth hair. There's something pleasing about the way Jungkook continues leaning against him, like he's soaking up Jimin's warmth in a way Jimin loves. They've been like this since as long as Jimin can remember and he wouldn't trade it for anything. The easy affection is addictive, such a striking contrast to the cold sterility of his home. He can't help but soak it up while it's here.

He only drops his hand away when Jungkook shifts against him, head tipping back to smile blearily up at Jimin.

"Fair's fair," he agrees, giving the back of Jungkook's neck a brief squeeze before taking the bottle with both hands since it's too big to handle with just one. He leans forward a little, careful not to jostle Jungkook too much in the process, and brings it to his lips. The smell of it stings before the liquid even touches his lips and he imagines the face he makes must be a mirror to what Jungkook's was as he forces himself to swallow it down, sputtering on an exhale and cringing at the acrid aftertaste.