hotel_omelas | (no subject)

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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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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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