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Jimin isn't honestly sure where his dad is. It's on a notepad somewhere, a hastily scribbled hotel and address, but he doesn't care enough to go looking. His mom's out, too. She'd texted him earlier in the evening, a quick, I'll be working late. There's sixty thousand won in the desk upstairs for dinner.

But it's not dinner Jimin's interested in.

He's known the location of the liquor cabinet for the past three years. He doesn't always take advantage, tries to pretend to be the good boy he's supposed to be, the one who only sometimes gets in trouble when he's not inside a hospital.

But sometimes...

There's a bottle of opened grapefruit soju that he finishes off first all by himself. His cheeks warm and flushed, he considers the C1 Blue before sending the text, waits a few minutes, then grins when he gets the replies. Minutes later, he's opening it and taking a quick swig, sinking back into his chair as he waits for his friends.

It's always more fun when he's not alone.

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Jungkook shifts in his lap, easily getting more comfortable, gaze raised to the ceiling, but occasionally lowering to meet Jimin's. He looks warm and sweet and happy, looks just exactly how he deserves to be: carefree and comfortable. Jimin can't help but wish he could give this feeling to Kookie all the time, give it to all of them.

He laughs at the sly little compliment, feels something warm under his skin and blossom like a flower. "Are you sober enough to dance?" he asked, his voice teasing. "I'm afraid you might fall over instead."

And, maybe, he's a little afraid that Jungkook could upstage him. Because Jimin isn't really that good. Liking to dance, even loving to dance is not at all the same as being any good at it. He'll never be as good as Hyung or Noona no matter how much he tries.

"I'd fall over even if I was sober," Jungkook says with a snort, even though there's a part of him that can't help but be curious, can't help but wonder if he'd be able to pick up on a little if he watched his hyungs closely enough. He doesn't think he would encroach on them like that, though. Dancing seems to be something between Hoseok and Jimin, in the same way that Namjoon and Taehyung are the only ones who run around spraying walls at night, in the same way that Jungkook cherishes the afternoons he spends playing the piano with Yoongi.

The song picks up in beat, and Jungkook bobs his head a few times before he decides — fuck it, when will he next get a chance to enjoy himself like this, dancing with the world spinning delightfully around him?

He kicks his legs over the side of the couch, staggering to his feet and reaching for both of Jimin's hands. "C'mon, hyung, let's dance! You show me how it's done."

Jungkook wiggles his arms through the air, stepping haphazardly across the floor, not quite matching the rhythm of the song.

Jimin grunts as Jungkook clambers to his feet, a wayward elbow knocking into his chest, a hand crushing his thigh before Jungkook's finally swaying on his feet, lips stretched in that familiar goofy smile. His cheeks are still flushed red with alcohol, but his muscles are loose and his grin is nothing but infectious and Jimin can't help a giggle, reaching up to take Jungkook's hand and letting himself be pulled to his feet.

He's had more than a few drinks himself, but he doesn't stumble too much. When he does, it's not because of the booze in his blood, but instead from laughing.

"This is what you call dancing?" he asks with a high laugh, trying to match Jungkook's clumsy movements, swaying a bit in the process. "You haven't picked this up from me, have you?"

Jungkook wrinkles his nose, both disappointed and impressed that Jimin doesn't seem to miss a beat, doesn't stagger once as he gets to his feet. Grace is the only word that's fitting of Jimin — he never seems to have trouble finding his feet, or finding the path of least resistance as he moves, every part of him weaving into the environment. It's beautiful in a way that Jungkook can so easily admire. Even if he feels like Jimin never sees it in himself.

For his part, Jungkook doesn't even bother trying to play the coordinated role. When he notices Jimin mimicking his movements, he starts to stride around the room, exaggerated steps that mimic a drunk salaryman. He gets it, now — why so many people like to relieve their stress in this way.

"What? Are you saying I don't have any swag?" Jungkook asks, briefly stopping before back up into Jimin, bumping into him with his butt.

To call it even an attempt at twerking was probably too generous.

He wouldn't call Jungkook's movements strutting exactly, but there something close to it. He's over exaggerating every step in a way that makes Jimin double over with laughter. He looks like an awkward chicken if anything. And, the thing is, Jimin knows Jungkook can actually dance. Not as well as Hoseok maybe (but then again, who can) but he has clear rhythm.

This, what he's doing right now, is just an obvious attempt to make Jimin laugh. And it's working.

He barks out another breath as Jungkook backs up close to him and sticks out his butt.

"Oh my god, stop," Jimin giggles, dropping his hands to Jungkook's hips to still them. "This is embarrassing. You have to-- oh god, you don't have the butt for this, Kook!"

Jungkook practically thrusts his butt back against Jimin a couple of times for good measure, but is eventually foiled by his own laughter, doubling over and bracing a hand on the wall as he catches his breath. However ridiculous he might have looked, he knows that it was absolutely worth it for the smile on his hyung's face.

(Even if a part of him feels a little petulant about the slight to his butt. Of all the things he feels lacking in, his butt didn't even cross his mind until just now.)

He looks over his shoulder, pouting for a second before he quickly makes his way around Jimin with a spin. "Okay, so I don't have the butt for this. But you know who definitely does?" Jungkook bites down on his lower lip, giggling even as he reaches out to spank Jimin's butt, quick and sharp. "Jiminie hyung!"

He adds an extra spank for good measure. And, okay, if anyone has the right to criticize a butt, it's probably Jimin.

"Work it, Jimin!"

Jungkook doesn't stop right away, thrusting his ass back obnoxiously against Jimin a few times even as Jimin keeps his hands wrapped around his waist. Each bump has Jimin laughing harder, bent over as he tries to push him away until Jungkook finally stops and pulls away, then spins around.

"Augh!" Jimin shouts, trying half-heartedly to squirm away as Jungkook starts smacking his bottom. "What are you-- Jungkook!"

His cries are compromised by the fact that he can't stop laughing, squirming helplessly in Jungkook's grip for several seconds. But even if Jungkook is younger than him, he's grown a lot in the past year and he's definitely stronger, as much as Jimin is loathe to admit it.

In an attempt to ease the smacking, he tries to dance just as Jungkook had been, bending his knees and bumping back against Jungkook's hip, his face warm with the booze and laughter and the warmth of the room.

Jungkook lets out a whoop, feeling only the smallest flare of jealousy at how well Jimin is capable of moving in his skin. It's clear that Jimin often spends too long in his head, but here, with alcohol carefully tearing down those inhibitions, Jungkook thinks that Jimin can shine as bright as anyone.

"Go Jimin, Park Jimin," he chants, foregoing any further attempts to twerk himself in favor of simply jumping up and down, clapping his hands over his head. "Go Jimin!"

Spotting an open bottle of soju on a nearby table, Jungkook grabs it and takes a quick swig, before holding it out for Jimin to share. A part of him can't help but wonder if he's not really getting a taste for alcohol, sticking to the flavored sojus as he had, but maybe the tipsiness is all that matters.

That, and the company.

The chanting nearly makes him fall over with laughter, but he catches himself just in time, stumbles forward just a few steps and then braces his hands on his knees again to keep up the movement. Honestly, even he doesn't have the butt or the hips necessary for this move, but he gives it his best all the same, bouncing in rhythm to Jungkook's chanting rather than the music, happy to make an utter fool of himself.

He doesn't drag out long though, tired after only a minute or so and he stands up again, laughing as he bumps into Jungkook's shoulder and steals the bottle of soju from him.

"Neither of us should ever do that again," he declares before he takes a large swig, happy for the sweet taste of the booze, his arm slung across Jungkook's shoulders. He nearly has to go onto his tip-toes to manage it, but the booze helps to soften the bruise to his ego.

Jungkook nearly doubles over when Jimin slings an arm over his shoulders, wheezing with laughter. Whether or not Jimin was good at twerking doesn't matter — it's simply nice to see Jimin let his guard down. Jungkook lifts his own arm to cross back under Jimin's in turn, squeezing Jimin's shoulder and tugging them both back in the direction of the couch.

"Aw, don't say that! We have to practice if we want to get better," Jungkook points out with a snicker. "And you've got the butt for it, right? It's only fair that you use it!"

He drops his hand again, giving Jimin's butt one more smack before Jungkook encourages both of them to fall back onto the couch cushions, the movement sending the world spinning around them.

"Drinking is great," Jungkook declares.

They stumble toward the couch in an uncoordinated tangle of crossed arms and wobbly legs, swaying briefly before Jungkook gives Jimin's butt another hard smack. It's not too hard, certainly not as hard as Jungkook's capable of, but it still pushes a squeak out Jimin, the sound melting into a laugh as he turns just enough to shove at Jungkook as they both collapse into the couch.

The entire room sways against them, a pleasant rolling sensation, and Jimin relaxes into Jungkook's side, marveling not for the first time at how big he's gotten in the past year or so. He's no longer the skinny little kid with the big eyes who would follow them around.

It makes Jimin wonder if he looks any different to the rest of them at all, if he's managed to grow or if he's just stuck. What does Hoseok see when he looks at Jimin? Is he still the scrawny, chubby little kid he's walked home every day?

Jimin shakes the through aside, determined to enjoy his night of drinking, smile plastered across his lips as he turns a little to stick his finger into Jungkook's cheek. "We're doing such a good job of raising you," he declares, pursing his lips like an annoying auntie. "Look at all this wisdom you're soaking up from your wonderful hyungs."

Jungkook hums his approval when Jimin slides up next to him on the couch, a warm and comforting weight. He throws an arm around Jimin's shoulders, pulling him closer still, two boys simply enjoying the way the world spins around them. Even though Taehyung is closer to Jungkook's age, there's something about Jimin that's always felt more kindred, in a way. Taehyung is the fiercely protective brother Jungkook has wanted for so long, but Jimin is... Jimin feels cut from the same cloth.

His thoughts are interrupted with the poke of a finger against his cheek, one which Jungkook instinctively turns toward and playfully threatens to chomp with his teeth. "I'm growing big and tall under the care of my hyungs," Jungkook declares with a puff of his chest, before pulling Jimin closer still. "Mm, but there's still lots of lessons to learn. I've learned that I don't have a butt. I've learned that I like soju. What's next? Should I learn how to take shots?"

Jungkook's cheek bulges a little when he smiles and Jimin pokes at it again, delighted by the cute, barely-there dimple that shows up. Jimin often wishes he had dimples. Instead, he just has stupidly round cheeks and tiny eyes. The construction of his face is the complete opposite of Jungkook's in that respect.

He's pulled tighter to Jungkook's chest and he giggles again, relishing the touch, grateful for Kookie's innocent affection.

But his eyes widen at the suggestion and he pulls back suddenly, lips spreading wide. "Oh, shots! Yes!" He launches himself up off the couch and rushes back toward the liquor cabinet. They're doing a pretty good job of emptying it, but there are still more than enough bottles left and Jimin grabs one, glancing only briefly at the label before carrying it back to Jungkook over his head like a trophy. "Tequila shots!"

Jungkook blinks as he's suddenly left bereft of Jimin, watching as the older boy hops over some of the obstacles in the room to get back to the liquor cabinet. It's a remarkable amount of coordination, Jungkook thinks, for someone who's clearly had a few times as much alcohol as Jungkook.

Thankfully, before Jungkook can make a fool out of himself and inevitably trip on a few dozen things along the way, Jimin is sinking right back onto the couch next to him, carrying a bottle that looks fairly large. And very intimidating.

His fingers carefully cradle the bottle, though he makes no move to wrest it from Jimin's hold — simply keeping it in place to try and read the label. "Tequila? Is that Mexican? How's it different than the others?"

"I think so," Jimin says because, honestly, he's not exactly an expert even if he's pretending to be. He is pretty sure that it's Mexican though which he's assuming almost entirely based on the art on the label.

He drops heavily back onto the couch next to Jungkook, leaning into the warm weight of his friend before popping off the lid of the tequila. He takes a sniff of it, nose wrinkling just a bit before he offers it to Jungkook, lips twisting into a smile. "And I don't really know, actually. I've never tried it. I think you're supposed to mix it with stuff, but I don't know what. Wanna try?"

There's a moment before Jimin opens the bottle where Jungkook is tempted to stop him, seeing the seal, wondering if it might be less trouble simply to stick with one of the options that's already been opened. The bottle looks expensive, after all, and even if Jungkook doesn't strictly have reason to believe that Jimin's parents would raise a hand against their son, they're still not exactly the doting type who would laugh at a lark. But Jimin opens the bottle, and caution fades behind the veil of curiosity.

He laughs at the face Jimin makes, which pretty much sums up how Jungkook currently feels about everything other than the soju.

"Sure," he agrees readily, taking the bottle into his own hands. Jimin's comment about mixers is a distant thought, but the point of shots is to take things straight, right?

Jungkook tilts the bottle back, a flow of liquid slipping by his lips, spicy and bitter and burning. It takes all of Jungkook's energy not to spit it right back out, a hasty swallow followed by a cough and watery eyes.

"What the shit," he laughs, burying his face in the crook of Jimin's neck.

As long as Jimin's known him, he's pretty sure he's never seen Jungkook bow before a challenge. This time is no different as he eyes the bottle warily for only a moment before taking it from Jimin and bringing it to his lip. His cute little nose is already wrinkling even before the first splash of liquid passes his lips and Jimin can't help laughing at the way his entire face scrunches up into the most offended look Jimin's ever seen.

To his credit, he swallows, and Jimin's still laughing when he ducks against Jimin's shoulders, coughing and sputtering.

Carefully, Jimin takes the bottle back before Jungkook can drop it or spill it, reaches over with his other hand to lightly pet at Jungkook's hair, trying to soothe even through his laughter. "I don't think shots are supposed to taste good," he says, like some sort of condolence. He presses a kiss to the top of Jungkook's head before smoothing his hair again, murmuring against him. "You okay? You good?"

Still biting back a few coughs, Jungkook nuzzles his nose deeper against Jimin's shirt, letting the older boy comfort him — playing up his dismay just a little for the excuse to cuddle closer. There are very few people in the world around which Jungkook feels as much ease as he does Jimin, and that fact is made all the more plain with alcohol coursing through his veins, making him clingier, a touch more affectionate.

"I'm fine," he stubbornly claims, despite the fact that his tongue and his throat both are still burning. This part of drinking is definitely overrated. Just a step above downing medicine.

But the fingers running through his hair go a long way in soothing him, and Jungkook gradually finds the tension leaving his shoulders, his body, as he lets himself relax fully.

"Mm," he murmurs, sleepily opening one eye to look up at Jimin. "Is it hyung's turn?"

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.

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