Chapter Text
Jimin is very , incredibly late.
He promised Yoongi, on pain of death, that he would be at the school extra early this time. Another apology for being five hours late for sports day three months back, ultimately arriving just as the final medals were being handed out.
Yoongi was pissed on sports day, understandably so. Because Jimin had promised on pain of death he would be there, had even shuffled around so much of his own work schedule so that he would be there.
But ultimately the life of an idol makes adjustments for no one, not even the idol themselves.
And thus, Jimin had been five hours late.
This time he was only an hour and a half late, which he supposed was a large improvement. Doesn’t mean his husband was going to be any less pissed though. Because this missed hour and a half should have been when Jimin started setting up blankets and paper plates on the school field. He dreads to think which poor unfortunate soul has been lumped with an extra task just because Jimin hadn’t turned up on time.
God Jimin hates being late.
He hates disappointing Yoongi even more.
With a last fleeting glance at his watch, Jimin slows his running down to a speed walk as he barrels out of breath into the front office of the school. He can feel how his cheeks are vibrant red, his lungs heavy with ragged breaths as though his chest is filled with sand. There’s also beads of perspiration dotting his forehead, ruining the two hour make-up job the photoshoot MUAs had slaved over this morning.
The fluorescent strip lighting of the front office hurts Jimin’s eyes, a painfully bright contrast to the gentle light of the early spring afternoon. The sturdy grey brick school clearly does not hold heat well, as Jimin suppresses a shiver whilst tottering over to the receptionist’s window. It’s not even that cold outside given the fact it’s late April, but the school feels as though it could very well be mid-January instead.
He wraps his knuckles on the little glass window that looks into the receptionists office before shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers. It’s always so eerily quiet standing in the front entrance with the doors tightly sealed to the rest of the school. There’s a special button that opens them in the receptionists office and Jimin always marvels at just how soundproof the thick oak doors are whenever he’s granted entrance. As every time they open his ears are assaulted with the humming and buzzing of children’s voices, feeling very much like a beekeeper opening up a large hive.
After a few moments of rocking back and forth on the heels of his feet, Jimin lets out a little sigh and knocks against the window once more.
It’s understandable that everyone must be pretty busy preparing for a school wide teddy bear’s picnic, but surely someone should be on hand in the front office. Isn’t this where all the important calls and visitors are directed too?
“Hello!” he shouts, knocking on the glass for the third time, squinting through the window and regretting not grabbing his glasses before he dashed over.
He’s just about to pull out his phone and see if he can get a hold of Yoongi, when half a face pops into view at the bottom of the window.
“Hello,” a small child greets, big dark eyes peering over the bottom frame of the window. “No talking to strangers,” they say, and Jimin cocks his head to one side.
What’s a child doing all alone in the front office? What’s to stop someone shady smashing through the window and stealing them away, never to be seen again? Jimin isn’t all that good with children and childcare, but he knows enough to spot something not right when he sees it.
“Yes, you shouldn’t talk to strangers,” Jimin agrees, nodding his head. The child nods along too and it sends his chocolate brown hair flopping into his eyes. It looks a little long if you were to ask Jimin, in desperate need of a trim just to keep it from irritating the poor kid’s eyes. “Is the receptionist or a teacher around?”
The boy nods again, pushing his long bangs out of his face rather clumsily with the flat of his palm. Clearly his hands are a little sticky, or perhaps a little sweaty, as once the boy removes his hands from his hair, tufts of chocolate brown stick up on end. He looks a bit like a bean sprout. A very adorable, incredibly cute bean sprout.
Jimin smiles warmly. “Can I talk to them?” he asks, and once again his question is answered by another nod, large eyes never once looking away from Jimin’s face. Belatedly, Jimin realises that this is probably all he’s going to get out of the boy.
“Do you know Park Seongsangnim?” Jimin queries with a subtle cock of his eyebrow. This time the boy furrows his brow in deep thought, eyes scrunching closed just a little. “He teaches 6 th grade,” Jimin adds helpfully.
The boy’s eyes blow wide once more. “Oh,” he says. “Lee Jongin cleans the shoe lockers and Kookie helps.”
“Right,” Jimin replies, elongating his vowels as he tries to comprehend what that sentence even means and how it’s relevant. “Who is Lee Jongin?”
“A big kid,” the boy elaborates. “Very big.”
Jimin hums, pointer finger resting on his chin. “Is he a 6 th grader?”
The boy scrunches up his face once more as if he’s thinking very, very hard. “Possibly,” he finally says.
“Possibly?” Jimin asks with a sinking suspicion that this boy might be a little too young to help him.
“Possibly,” the boy echoes with a final nod. Then his eyes crinkle around the corners like he’s smiling, not that Jimin can see the lower half of the boy’s face. Considering the window is pretty high up and the boy is only small, he must be standing on his tiptoes to be able to see anything through the window. “Big kids help clean after lunch,” he adds.
Something clicks in Jimin’s brain and he lets a little understanding Ah! Slip past his lips. “You’re in kindergarten?”
“I’m not a baby though,” the boy clarifies a pinch of hurt between his brow that doesn’t belong on the face of someone so small, someone so young. “Kookie’s not a baby.”
“Is that your name? Kookie?” Jimin asks, warmth in his chest. God this kid is incredibly cute.
The boy looks as though he’s debating if he’s made a mistake. “No talking to strangers,” he says and his little brow furrows in a way that should look intimidating, but is actually stupidly adorable.
Jimin feels very much like he’s going around in circles, and not for the first time in the ten years he and Yoongi have been together, he finds himself questioning how in the hell Yoongi has the patience for kids.
“Okay,” Jimin sighs, slipping his cold hands back into his pockets. “What will it take for us not to be strangers?”
The boy squints at him. “What’s your favourite colour?” he asks, tone deathly serious, reminiscent of a cop questioning a perp.
“Um,” Jimin has to think about it for a moment. His favourite colour tends to change like the weather. “Yellow,” he finally decides.
“I like red,” the boy says, nodding like he accepts Jimin’s choice. “Fire trucks are red, apples are red, apple starts with a!”
Humming along to the boys mumbled thoughts like he’s listening to the best inspirational speech, Jimin smiles. “That’s right,” he praises. “Very clever.”
It looks as though the boy puffs his chest out in pride, but Jimin can still only see the top half of his head. “Kookie’s not a baby,” he repeats but this time there’s pride in his voice rather than the disgust of earlier. “Kookie is me.”
“I can see that you are most definitely not a baby,” Jimin agrees and the boy positively glows with happiness. “So, does this mean we’re not strangers anymore?” he asks and predictably the boy nods his head. “Because you know my favourite colour?”
The boy, Kookie, looks a little like a bobble head with the way he’s nodding so much. “Bananas are yellow.”
“They are,” approves Jimin. “It’s nice to meet you, Kookie, I’m Jimin by the way.”
“Jimin-ssi likes yellow,” Kookie responds. “He’s not a stranger.”
Why is that cute? Why is childish jargon so incredibly endearing even though it’s getting Jimin absolutely nowhere? “I’m glad we’re not strangers,” Jimin adds with a polite little bow. The boy copies the action and just narrowly misses smashing his forehead against the windowpane. “I’m supposed to be helping with your teddy bears picnic today.”
There’s a droop to the boy's bright eyes. “Selfish children can’t go,” Kookie says in a quiet voice. His words are very clearly not his own and it has Jimin’s brow furrowing a little.
“Who is selfish?” Jimin asks tentatively, trying his best to keep his voice light.
Kookie’s eyes avert from Jimin’s face for the first time since their encounter, gaze dropping to his feet. “Someone,” he mumbles, words lost a little behind the barrier of glass between them.
“Someone, huh?” Jimin repeats and watches as Kookie nods sadly. “What did someone do to be selfish?”
The boy sighs, a heavy sigh that young children shouldn’t know. Jimin doesn’t like it. “Someone didn’t bring enough to share,” Kookie mumbles once more, it sounds like maybe his fingers are in his mouth, words muffled by something. “But Tae Tae hyungie said that it was okay to bring it.”
It’s like trying to solve the world's hardest puzzle attempting to pull any sense from kids. Jimin’s brain hurts. “What did this someone bring?”
“Popcorn,” Kookie explains, he still won't look at Jimin. “Tae Tae hyungie said that popcorn is a good snack. It was leftovers. He said to bring it.”
There’s something that pulls sharply at Jimin’s heart as he glues together the little pieces of the boy’s story. Clearly Kookie didn’t understand that he was supposed to bring enough snacks for everyone in his class and told his hyung that he just needed to bring snacks. It’s an easy mistake for kids to make, especially someone so small, after all.
But what Jimin is struggling to comprehend is why a teacher, a qualified childcare professional, told a boy who mustn’t be older than 5, that he couldn’t join in with the rest of the school just because of a misunderstanding.
Injustice stinks heavily in the air and Jimin isn’t okay with that one little bit.
With a thoughtful hum, Jimin lowers himself a little to be more at eye level with Kookie, but still the boy doesn’t look up at him. “That sounds like a misunderstanding to me,” he explains.
Through the thick curtain of chocolate brown hair, Jimin can just about see the boy’s face crumbling like paper. “Miss-undy-stand-y?” he repeats, softly.
Jimin chuckles gently. “Misunderstanding,” he repeats, slowly this time. “It happens when people are confused. If they don’t understand what someone has asked them to do, it can create a misunderstanding.” Kookie looks up at him this time, head cocked as he listens to Jimin’s explanation with rapt attention, little brain trying it’s best to comprehend it. “I think that perhaps you—”
Kookie lets out a long aggressive shhh through his teeth, shaking his head viciously. “Not Kookie ,” he implores, the apples of his cheeks red. “ Someone .”
“Right, right, of course,” Jimin nods, biting down on his lip to keep himself from laughing. “I think that perhaps someone , misunderstood what their teacher told them and thought they only needed to bring snacks for themselves and not for all their friends. That’s a misunderstanding.”
Nodding along with Jimin’s words, Kookie’s eyes grow wider and wider, softening around the edges as relief washes over him. “It’s not selfish?” he asks and Jimin has never wanted to smack a full grown adult so hard in his life. He’s going to be having words with Yoongi over the fact the kindergarten teacher is an asshole.
“It’s not selfish at all ,” Jimin emphasises, holding Kookie’s gaze. “Misunderstandings happen all the time, even to grown ups like me,” Jimin continues. “Do you think I’m selfish?” he asks and realises after he’s asked that Kookie doesn’t really know anything about him.
“Jimin-ssi likes yellow,” Kookie replies. “He’s not a stranger. He’s not selfish.” His tone is confident and assured, as if confessing his thoughts to a jury of his peers in a court of law. Jimin vaguely wonders how liking yellow relates to not being selfish, but then thinks better than to question the inner workings of a child. Though, now Jimin feels bad for not reading all those parenting books Yoongi not so subtly left around the house. He bets they have one or two things to say that would have better helped in this situation.
“Then neither is this someone we’ve been talking about,” Jimin adds, smile big and soft across his face. “So wherever this someone is, I hope they know that they’re not selfish.”
“It okay, I tell them,” Kookie reassures, nodding like a bobble head once more.
Jimin goes to thank the boy, warmth blossoming in his chest, when the door to the receptionists office snaps open and Kookie jumps away from the window like he’s just been burnt. Jimin has to strain his neck to see who’s just walked in, but the angle of the window is just not helping him at all .
“Jeon Jungkook, what on earth are you doing?” a woman’s voice scolds and Jungkook’s head hangs low on his shoulders, trudging away from the window to stand in the centre of the room facing the door.
Jimin can see the boy’s pale pink lips for the first time, muttering something under his breath that is far too quiet for Jimin to hear on the outside of the office.
But clearly, the woman in the doorway heard him perfectly fine. “You are supposed to be sitting in the Principal's office doing your homework. You know you’re not allowed in the front office.” Her voice is sharp, piercing, far too nasty a tone to be held with a child, even if the child has supposedly done something wrong.
“Excuse me,” Jimin calls, irritation laced deep through his words. He hears the sound of footsteps across wooden flooring before a young woman, possibly younger than Jimin, pops into view of the window.
Jimin sees the exact moment that the deeply etched irritation across her face is wiped clean with a pleasant professional smile. “Oh, hello, sorry to keep you waiting, can I help?”
With lips pressed into a thin line, Jimin lets a long impatient sigh pass his lips. “Actually, yes I was—”
“Wait, oh my god,” the woman gushes, practically running closer to the window. “You’re Park Jimin,” she exclaims, finger pointed in Jimin’s direction. Her hair is a box dye job blonde with dark roots more than 2 inches thick on the crown of her head. Her makeup is dense to impress, lips painted a glossy pink, clothing far too tight fitting and impractical for her job description and everything about her screams self-involved . “I love your music,” she squeals. “Your last album deserved more wins; it was so good and—"
“Are you a teacher here?” Jimin interrupts, feeling annoyance prickle across his skin like an irritating itch he just can’t scratch.
The woman nods, and if her foundation wasn’t as thick as it is Jimin thinks she might be blushing under it. “I’m Cha Minsoo, the kindergarten teacher,” she explains and the furrow to Jimin’s brow deepens.
“Right,” Jimin replies, voice curt. “So you’re the one who called my nephew selfish?
The light across the woman’s face fades, lips down turning. “Ex-excuse me?”
“Kookie told me that he’s not allowed to participate in the teddy bears picnic with his friends and his teacher called him selfish,” Jimin elaborates.
Cha Minsoo looks as though she’s been smacked in the face with a rubber chicken and is struggling to come to terms with it. “I’m, I’m a little confused here…” she begins.
Jimin scoffs. “You’re preaching to the choir,” he snaps back with a roll of his eyes. “Kookie brought snacks, he didn’t understand that it needed to be enough to share, but he still contributed something , therefore he should be allowed to participate.”
With a raise of her hands, motion defensive and face a mask of shock, Cha Minsoo takes a step back from the window. “I sent letters home with the kids; he knew that he had to—”
“He’s fucking three,” Jimin retorts.
“I’m fucking three,” Kookie parrots, the first thing he’s said in a while and Jimin’s stomach drops, practically forgetting that the impressionable child was still here.
Jimin narrows the boy with a worried expression. “Don’t repeat that, that’s a bad word.”
Thankfully, Cha Minsoo is too preoccupied with other matters than to scold the boy for swearing. “Jeon Jungkook, do you know this man?”
The confidence across Kookie’s face droops as he’s narrowed with a sharp glare from his teacher. His bottom lip wobbles, he scuffs the toe of his left foot into the flooring and he fiddles nervously with his hands. “Jimin-ssi likes yellow,” he says. “He’s not a stranger.”
Jesus Christ .
“If it’s snacks you want, then it’s snacks you’ll get,” Jimin announces, the need to assert justice into an awful situation flaming through his veins. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”
“Park-ssi,” Cha Minsoo calls after Jimin as he storms his way out of the school. “Where are you going I…”
But Jimin’s anger is too loud in his ears to reply to the terrible teacher.
____________
When Jimin returns not ten minutes later, it’s with two carrier bags filled to the brim with every single snack that the convenience store down the street stocked. He rustles them triumphantly in the air as he saunters up to the receptionists window, pride pulling a shit-eating grin across his face.
“Right, Cha-seongsangnim, I have the snacks so—” his words cut off short, arms dropping to his sides as he’s greeted by a kindly, older looking woman, with greying hair scraped back into a no nonsense bun. Her hair is pulled so tight that it smooths some of the wrinkles in her face. But there’s a softness to her eyes, a gentleness around her mouth, and Jimin’s annoyance bleeds from his skin. Clearly this woman is the right type of person to be around kids.
“Oh, Park-ssi, it’s good to see you again,” she greets, standing from her desk and tottering over to the window. Jimin should really do a better job at remembering his husband’s co-workers, considering he helps out so often. But Jimin had never been good with names and faces, always polite and considerate to everyone regardless of whether they’ve met before or not.
Her aged hands pull out a small book from a draw by the window, smile soft. “Your husband has been calling you.”
Well fuck, that’s not good.
With an awkward smile, Jimin laughs mechanically. “I was a little busy.”
“Life of a celebrity and all that,” she winks, clearly echoing words Jimin must have told her before. Jimin feels so god damn awful that he doesn’t remember her. “My my, you brought a lot of snacks.”
Looking down at the heavy bags in his hands, Jimin cocks his head to one side, momentarily forgetting why he’s here. “Oh, yeah,” he says, shuffling both bags into his left hand so he can sign his name into the visitors book the receptionist is now pushing through the open window. “Kookie told me that he didn’t bring enough to share, so I got more.”
“Kookie?” the woman ponders, watching Jimin’s hand scribble across the book. “Are you referring to little Jeon Jungkook?” she asks and Jimin nods, dropping the pen ontop of the visitor’s book.
He separates the two bags across both his hands once more and straightens his back. “I’m his uncle.”
Ever so slightly, the receptionist’s eyes narrow. “No you’re not,” she corrects. “Park-seongsangnim would have mentioned something about it.”
Jimin’s ears tint red, panic awash in his system. “Not like, a blood uncle,” he clarifies. “He’s a kid of a family friend of mine. I didn’t know he went to this school until I saw him and…” The lie is unconvincing even to Jimin and it has him suppressing a cringe.
“Right,” the receptionist replies, clearly not buying what Jimin is selling. “And you brought along the snacks he forgot I take it?”
Jimin nods. “Where’s his teacher?”
“Probably with her class, the kids are making their way out to the school field,” she explains, closing the visitor’s book gently, pen still tucked away inside. “But Jungkook is waiting in the principal’s office, you two can walk over together if you’d like?”
Jimin nods, eyes looking anywhere then at the receptionists face. “Yeah, thanks,” he replies, feeling incredibly bad. The woman’s not wearing a name tag and Jimin makes a mental note to ask Yoongi for her name to send her some flowers at a later date. She’s clearly bending the rules a little bit for Jimin here.
“You’re a good person, Park-ssi,” the receptionist praises, almost as if hearing Jimin’s internal worry over why this woman isn’t more pressed that a stranger has taken a keen interest into a child they clearly don’t know. There’s sincerity thick on her voice, however, as she buzzes the door open for Jimin, and it settles heavy in his chest, warm and reassuring.
“Thank you,” Jimin replies, stepping through the door that the woman has so kindly held open for him. “I promise I’m not shady or anything.”
The woman chuckles, gesturing towards the direction they need to take before leading Jimin down a corridor just to the right of the main entrance. “I don’t doubt that,” she agrees, back hunched a little from years of desk work. “Park-seongsangnim doesn’t appear the type to marry someone shady. Besides, my granddaughter tells me of all the money you donate to children’s charities and the amount of charity work you squeeze into your busy schedule is more than admirable.”
Even after years in the spotlight and constant accolades and praises to his name, Jimin is still far too humble a being not to blush completely beetroot. “Please, that’s too much,” he mutters.
But the receptionist merely offers Jimin a knowing look, sliding open a mahogany coloured door. “Jeon Jungkook, you have a visitor,” she says, and before Jimin can snap his attention into the room, he feels a force collide against his legs so strong he has to take a step back to stop himself from falling over.
“Jimin-ssi,” Jungkook greets into Jimin’s legs. “You came back.”
“Of course!” Jimin exclaims, dropping the bags on instinct and placing his hands against the boy’s back in an awkward hug. “I brought snacks,” he offers unhelpfully, not really sure what he should say when a kid has wrapped themselves around his legs and is currently nuzzling his face into Jimin’s knees.
His heart is beating wildly in his chest, his palms are sweaty as they splay against the small boy’s back. Is this nerves? Jimin hasn’t been nervous of anything in years, considering he spends a majority of his time on stage in front of thousands of people. So why in the hell is he terrified of something so small?
Jungkook makes no sign of removing himself from around Jimin’s legs and the receptionist chuckles softly. “Jungkook is a very affectionate child,” she explains, but Jimin notices her tone is a touch sad.
“I’ve been told I give very good hugs,” Jimin replies, eyes downcast at the gentle smile across Jungkook’s pale lips. Instinctively, Jimin runs a hand through the boy’s hair, pushing the long bangs away from his face. “Shall we go and have a teddy bear’s picnic?” he asks.
Nodding against Jimin’s knees, grip tightening ever so slightly around the legs he’s currently hugging, Jungkook giggles. “You smell nice,” he says.
“Thank you,” Jimin replies, cheeks pink. “Do you have your teddy bear?”
Finally, Jungkook removes himself from around Jimin’s legs, turning his large brown eyes up at Jimin. “Kookie has question, Jimin-ssi?” he asks, a pair of sweet little bunny teeth poking out of his mouth and embedding into his bottom lip.
“Jimin- hyung ,” Jimin corrects softly, fingers still carding through the boy’s sweetly curled dark hair.
“Jimin-hyung,” Jungkook starts again. “Are bunnies allowed to come?”
“Come where?” Jimin asks.
The receptionist, who is still hovering in the doorway, chuckles softly. “To the teddy bears picnic, of course,” she explains.
“Of course,” Jungkook parrots, cheeks puffed out like he cannot believe Jimin didn’t understand him. “Are bunnies allowed?”
Jimin cocks his head to one side. “It’s been a while since I last had a conversation with a teddy bear,” he begins, smile big across his face. “But the last I heard, Teddy bears and bunnies were very good friends.” Jungkook nods, shoulders relaxing and a small smile growing on his face. “Did you bring a bunny friend today?”
Nodding again, Jungkook reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, faded pink rabbit toy that’s attached to a keychain. It fits perfectly snug in Jungkook’s hand, and if the worn old appearance of the little rabbit is anything to go by, Jimin thinks Jungkook must love this little keychain toy an awful lot.
“This is Cookey,” he explains, holding the toy into the air, as high up as his little arms can reach trying to wave him in Jimin’s face. “He’s not a baby.”
With a chuckle, Jimin reaches out and pretends to shake the little rabbit’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Cookey,” he greets. “I like yellow.”
“Cookey likes pink,” Jungkook elaborates, bringing the toy back down so he can stroke a chubby little finger over its face. “He likes lettuce too. He doesn’t like carrots. Bunnies can’t eat carrots.”
Jimin didn’t know that. “They can’t?”
Jungkook nods once more, eyes overflowing with happiness as he smiles down to his toy. “Tae Tae-hyungie said it’s not good for them.”
“Wow, your Tae Tae-hyungie is very smart,” says Jimin, patting the boy on the top of his head. “I didn’t even know that.”
“Time is ticking, boys,” the receptionist interrupts. “If you don’t hurry then all the good sandwiches will be gone.”
A gasp falls from Jungkook’s lips, eyes wide. “Even the egg ones?”
With a raspy chuckle, the receptionist folds her arms about her chest. “You had best get a move on.”
Without even thinking about it, Jungkook slips his hand into Jimin’s and tugs on his arm. “We have to go,” he explains, voice very gravely serious.
“Okay,” Jimin agrees, feeling a warmth blossom in his chest that makes him feel incredibly light. He reaches down for the bags of snacks that had gone forgotten by his feet, scooping them both up with one hand before he lets Jungkook lead him out of the room. “Do you know the way?”
“Yes,” Jungkook sing songs. “Good bye Lim-ssi,” he waves to the receptionist as they slip pass.
“Have fun,” the receptionist waves back.
Jimin has no hands to wave too, but he does offer the kindly woman a small bow and a thank you before he’s being dragged by a three year old through the school.
____________
Yoongi is glaring at Jimin from where he’s sat with his 6 th grade class. His glare is a good mix of disappointment from the fact Jimin was unsurprisingly late today and confusion towards the little kindergartener currently chatting Jimin’s ear off.
Jungkook, on the other hand, has half an egg sandwich in his mouth and the other half is dripping down his arm as he waves his little hands about animatedly. Through the food lolling around in the boy’s mouth, Jimin can’t really understand a single word he’s saying, but there’s a light in Jungkook’s big doe eyes that Jimin wouldn’t want to ever extinguish.
Clearly, though, Yoongi has a lot of questions. Questions Jimin would be more than willing to answer if it weren’t for the fact he’s giving Jungkook all his attention. He knows that later, when Jimin does spare his husband some time, the man will big a big pouty baby and Jimin will spend the evening pampering him to try and appease him.
But for right now, Jungkook is all that matters to Jimin.
With his guilt for not bringing enough snacks for all his classmates well and truly squashed, Jungkook is a real chatterbox. During the brief intervals in which his mouth is void of food, he natters about anything and everything that flitters across his mind, incredibly excited to share his fleeting thoughts with Jimin.
Eventually, Jungkook swallows down his food and Jimin reaches out for his face and hands with a wet tissue. “You shouldn’t talk with your mouthful,” he chides gently.
Jungkook very willingly lets Jimin clean him up, even tilting his head from side to side to help. “But I want to talk to Jimin-ssi.”
Every time Jungkook so much as smiles at Jimin his heart contracts painfully in his chest, growing twice as big as it was. He swipes the wipe across the boy’s mouth, who puckers his lips to help Jimin in his cleaning process. “I’m happy you want to talk with me,” Jimin says, booping Jungkook’s nose for good measure. It scrunches up like a little bunny nose, mouth pulling into a cheeky little grin that shows off his front teeth. “But you should swallow your food first,” Jimin explains softly.
Jungkook thinks about that for a moment, staring at the other half of his sandwich that’s clutched in his little paws. His stare is filled with hilarious intensity, like a man scorned. But eventually Jungkook nods, apparently coming to some kind of mental decision, and shoves the sandwich into his mouth in one big bite. It’s clearly too much food for the kid to handle and it pushes his mochi cheeks out like a little chipmunk hiding nuts.
Jimin can’t help but giggle, tossing the dirty tissue into the big black trash bag in the middle of their groups’ circle. There’s an adoring light that brightens across the boy’s face at seeing Jimin giggle. It has Jungkook smiling too, cheeks filled with food and lips opening to show Jimin the half eaten sandwich in his mouth. Jimin really just cannot find it within himself to scold the boy for not chewing with his mouth closed. Distantly he remembers his own mother scolding him for that when he was younger, and as an adult that Jungkook can look up to, he thinks he should be teaching Jungkook to have good manners whilst eating.
But seeing Jungkook happy trumps everything, even good manners.
In the half an hour or so the two have been together, Jimin has watched Jungkook interact with his classmates and other teachers and has deemed that the boy is too sweet, too precious and too pure for this world. Not to mention the kid is far more polite than most adults Jimin meets now-adays.
The precious boy had gone running up to his friends, dragging Jimin along behind him like a limp kite unable to catch on the wind. “This is Jimin-hyung,” Jungkook had said. “He likes yellow, he’s not a stranger, he has snacks. Who wants snacks?” And then proceeded to offer every single child in his class the endless amounts of snacks Jimin had brought for Jungkook before sitting down and eating some himself.
Unfortunately, Cha-ssi was nowhere to be seen and therefore Jimin couldn’t loudly gloat about how selfless a child Jungkook was and how much of a shit teacher Cha-ssi was.
Not much longer after the two had sat to eat their lunch together, a small girl with thick bangs that covered her eyebrows and left her face in a constant mask of shock, asked Jimin where his teddy bear was. When Jimin had politely explained that his teddy bear friend was busy today and couldn’t attend, Jungkook had shyly placed Cooky on Jimin’s knee and said they could share him for the day.
At that point Jimin was pretty certain his heart stopped beating and he nearly went into cardiac arrest over how goddamn adorable this boy is.
There’s a gooey kind of smile on Jimin’s face as he recalls the brief time he’s spent with Jungkook, and he’s only brought around from his daydreaming by a slight tugging at his shirt. He looks down to find Jungkook looking up at him with wide eyes and a thumb stuck in his mouth.
“Hyung,” he whispers around his thumb. “Can Kookie play tag too?” he asks pointing to a small gaggle of kindergarten kids that are currently running around the school field, cuddly companions and food long forgotten.
With a huge smile and a pat to Jungkook’s head, Jimin nods enthusiastically. “Of course,” he says, waving the little pink bunny in front of Jungkook’s face. “Me and Cooky will watch you from here, okay?”
“’Kay,” Jungkook sing songs, stumbling to his feet and rushing over to his friends. Jimin’s smile is sunshine bright across his face as he watches Jungkook go, a warmth blossoming in his chest that he’s never really felt before.
But then a hand comes down onto his shoulder, long bony fingers digging into his skin and Jimin realises that without Jungkook around, he no longer has a shield to protect himself from an incredibly pouty husband.
“You owe me like, at least three hours of hand holding,” Yoongi mumbles before flopping down to sit next to Jimin. “And I get to be the little spoon tonight.”
With a roll of his eyes, Jimin pulls Yoongi’s hand off of his shoulder, over his head and holds it gently in his lap. “Is that all?”
Yoongi is very purposefully not looking at Jimin, chin resting in his free hand, elbow propped against his knee. “I would be madder,” he mumbles, face pleasantly flushed. “But you’re too cute.”
Jimin squeezes his husbands’ hand reassuringly. “I know,” he agrees, easily. “I’m the cutest, bestest, most wonderful husband in the whole world, right?” he asks, fluttering his eyelashes for good measure. He knows Yoongi can see him do so out of the corner of his eye.
There’s a long deep sigh that tumbles out of Yoongi’s mouth. “What do you want?”
“I want Cha-seonsangnim gone,” Jimin replies without a beat of hesitation.
Yoongi snorts. “We’re not in the mafia.”
“But like, you’re in cahoots with the board of education right? You got them teacher connections, right?” Jimin asks, playing with Yoongi’s fingers mindlessly.
His husband offers him a confused look. “It was a bad idea to let you watch The Sopranos ,” he says rubbing a finger at his temple. Jimin watches the action and slips his hand out of Yoongi’s to route around in his satchel. “What do you have against the kindergarten teacher?”
Jimin’s fingers close around the box of painkillers he was looking for and carefully pushes them into Yoongi’s hands. “I told you not to wait up for me to come home; you get headaches if you don’t sleep enough.” Yoongi just grunts in reply before slipping the painkillers into his pocket. “And I have a lot against the kindergarten teacher, she’s my enemy.”
Yoongi snorts. “You met her for the first time today.”
“You don’t have to know someone long to know that they’re a bad person,” Jimin reasons, eyes slipping away from his husband’s face to search out Jungkook amongst the sea of children. He sports him easily, the boy’s little bunny smile vibrant across the field like a beacon of light. “She told Jungkook he was a selfish child for not understanding he needed to bring in enough snacks for the whole class, not just for himself.”
There’s a momentary pause and an uneasy stillness from Yoongi that speaks volumes more than words ever could. Quite often people mistake Yoongi for being shy, reserved and quiet, but that’s not entirely true. Jimin’s husband is a little more introverted than himself, sure, but he’s not timid or reserved. In fact he has a great deal to say, a great deal of good wisdom and important thoughts that he takes his time composing so as to remain articulate. It’s one of the things Jimin does so love about his husband; he always knows the right things to say, the right things to do. He’s the rock of support that Jimin will forever be grateful for.
Eventually, Yoongi shifts where he’s sat, fingers interlinking together and eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “I see,” is all he says, and Jimin would question him further if his ears didn’t pick up a sudden cry of worry that has his head snapping across the field.
He’s just in time to watch Jungkook come tumbling against the grass, hands too late to cushion his fall and so his shoulder smacks against the earth. Jimin is up on his feet before his brain can even comprehend what he’s doing, running full pelt across the field. His stomach flips, his heart catches in his throat as he skids to a stop next to the boy laying face down in the grass.
“Kookie?” Jimin asks, dropping to his knees and gently pushing the boy to roll onto his back. “Are you okay?”
There’s a bit of a stunned look across the boy’s face like he’s just had a surprise photograph taken and the flash was extra bright. There’s also some serious grass stains on his shirt sleeve but other than that there appears to be no harm and the relief that washes over Jimin feels like a wave of cold ocean water.
“Whoops,” Jungkook mutters, still somewhat dazed. Slowly he pulls himself to sit up right, blinking his big doe eyes at Jimin. “Hyung, hyung did you see?” he asks, cheeks flushed. “Kookie go fast.”
There’s just a smidgen of dirt on the apple of Jungkook’s cheek and in an act that embodies the very essence of his own grandmother, Jimin licks the pad of his thumb and scrubs the boy’s cheek clean. “I did see,” he says softly. “So fast you went over your feet.”
Jungkook giggles, feet knocking together. “Kookie fast,” he says. “Cheetahs are fast, too.”
“Are you a cheetah?” Jimin asks, tucking a few loose strands of long chocolate brown hair behind Jungkook’s ear.
“Cheetah’s are cats,” he says in reply. “Big cats. They’re not pets.”
Nodding in agreement, Jimin sits back on his hunches giving the boy another quick once over just in case. “I’m learning a lot today,” he says, eyes trailing down the boy’s bare legs and spotting no cuts or scrapes. “You’re smart, Kookie.”
“We go to the zoo and have teddy bears picnic and there’s no ice cream so the Cheetah eats chips,” he explains making, as expected, little to no sense. But Jimin doesn’t care, simply nods as though Jungkook just told him a story that could win an Oscar for best original screenplay.
Then he notices the cause for Jungkook’s little tumble and Jimin flops onto his butt and crosses his legs. “You should make sure your shoes are tied before you go running around, Kookie,” Jimin says, reaching out a finger to tap against Jungkook’s worn grey trainers.
Looking a little sheepish, Jungkook sways his feet from side to side and shrugs. Jimin hums trying to think how old he was when he learnt how to tie his shoe. Surely it was around Jungkook’s age? And if Jungkook’s parents dressed him in laced shoes that must mean he knows how to tie them, right?
“Did you forget?” Jimin asks, purposefully keeping his tone light and gentle. Jungkook merely shrugs again. “Do you know how to tie shoes?” Another shrug and Jimin tries his best to keep his concern off his face. “I see,” he whispers softly before shuffling across the grass until he’s sat with Jungkook’s feet in his lap. “Well it just so happens I am an expert at shoelaces.”
There’s no answer or noise of understanding from Jungkook, his fingers are in his mouth, teeth nibbling on his nails and his eyes wide and glossy like the surface of a lake as he watches Jimin. It’s almost as though the boy is uncertain if he should be more sheepish or not, almost as though he’s waiting to be scolded...
Jimin rolls up his sleeves and takes the two laces in his hands. “Are you watching?” he asks Jungkook. The boy nods and Jimin turns his eyes back down to the task at hand. “First,” he says, looping the two laces until they look like bunny ears. “You have to make a bunny.”
“Bunny starts with B,” Jungkook says, voice very small and a complete 180 to the chattering animated boy he had just been eating lunch with. But the fact he found his voice again is enough for Jimin.
“That’s right, clever Kookie,” Jimin praises, wishing he could offer the boy some tactile head pats of affection and praise. “Next, the bunny goes around the tree and through the hole—” Jimin is slow in his demonstrations, feeling the doe eyed stare burning into his hands. When he has the bow tied, he pulls on it gently until it’s snug and secure. “And don’t forget to pull tight.”
There’s a gasp of glee from Jungkook before he claps his hands. “Again?” he asks.
Jimin giggles. “It’s a good thing you have two feet,” he agrees, switching Jungkook’s left foot out for his right foot. “Do you remember what we do first?”
“Bunny,” Jungkook says. “B is for bunny and bunnies tie shoelaces.”
Well, that’s close enough Jimin supposes.
“Good job,” he praises once more, looping the laces into bunny ears. “Then around the tree, through the hole and—“
“Pull tight,” Jungkook mutters, practically a whisper as he watches the laces move through Jimin’s fingers with rapt attention. “One more, please?” he asks again and Jimin is all too happy to oblige, tugging out the bows in Jungkook’s laces with one tug.
After two more demonstrations, Jungkook reaches for the laces himself and whilst chanting the directions out loud, clumsily tries to tie his own laces. He can’t do it at all the first time, Nor the second time, in fact. But Jimin is patient and guides his hands when Jungkook struggles to remember and by the seventh attempt the boy has managed to tie an untidy lopsided bow.
Jimin has never felt so proud in all his life and he’s won several Daesungs.
“Well done, Kookie,” Jimin praises once more, heart so full at the bright bunny smile he gets in return. “You’ve done a great job.”
____________
Like all good things, however, the teddy bears picnic comes to an end and parents arrive to collect their children and take them home for the evening. Jungkook doesn’t look all that pleased to be parting ways with Jimin. In fact, he’s currently sitting in the elder’s lap, arms looped around Jimin’s stomach and face smashed into his shirt. He hasn’t said it out loud that he doesn’t want to go home, but his body language very clearly speaks for itself.
“Will Tae-Tae hyungie pick you up today?” Jimin asks, hands absentmindedly running up and down Jungkook’s back. Jungkook just nods nose scrunching against Jimin’s chest. “He won’t be able to see you if you’re hiding.”
Jungkook mutters something inaudible that sounds very much like don’t care and maybe Jimin holds the little boy just a little tighter.
“Hey now,” he says softly. “You’ll see me again.”
Two big brown eyes appear between the wrinkles of Jimin’s T-shirt, peering up at Jimin as though the elder hangs the stars in the sky. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a pout on his lips that has Jimin thinking the boy doesn’t believe his words. So instead, Jimin lifts his hand off of Jungkook’s back and points in the direction of class 6-4 who are lined up incredibly neatly by the school exit.
“Do you see the small teacher with black hair standing with the 6 th graders?” he asks. Jungkook unwillingly turns his head in the direction Jimin is pointing, worry deepening across his face. “That’s Park-seonsangnim, he’s my husband and sometimes I come and pick him up at the end of the day.”
Jungkook is silent again, staring intently at Yoongi who just at the right moment, turns his eyes over to the pair of them and offers them a small smile. Jungkook flushes and buries his face back in Jimin’s shirt.
So cute, fuck.
“Would it be okay if I came and saw you sometimes after school?”Jimin asks. “Only if you want me to.”
Little paws tangle themselves into Jimin’s shirt and hang on for dear life, breath stuttering past his lips. “Kookie want you to,” he mumbles just loudly enough for Jimin to hear. God his heart is going through it today, Jimin wraps his arms extra tightly around Jungkook’s back careful not to crush him.
“I am very busy with work, though,” Jimin adds, not wanting to set the boy’s expectations too high. “So I can’t come every day, but I will come sometimes.”
“Sometimes.” Jungkook parrots. “Sometimes Kookie eat cereal for dinner, sometimes Kookie wears the blue socks.”
“And sometimes Jimin-hyung will come and see you after school,” Jimin adds, pulling Jungkook out of his chest to hold the boy’s gaze. “Can you say that so I know you understand?”
Jungkook nods. “Sometimes Jimin-hyung will come see Kookie after school,” he mumbles, still a little uncertain. “Jimin-hyung likes yellow. He’s not a stranger. He’s married to the teacher who is a cat.”
Jimin blanches. “The teacher ... who is a cat?” he repeats and Jungkook nods before turning around and pointing a little chubby finger right at Yoongi.
It takes all of Jimin’s mental strength to stop himself from bursting into uncontrollable fits of laughter. He runs his fingers soothingly through Jungkook’s hair, pushing the chocolate strands away from his round little face. “He is a cat, you’re right,” he agrees. “What kind of cat is he?”
The little boy has to think for a moment, pulling a finger up to his chin and tapping it gently. “A cat who teachers big kids,” Jungkook finally decides and this time, Jimin can’t help but chuckle just a little.
“Jeon Jungkook!” the brisk shrill voice of Cha-ssi calls from across the school field, not even bothering to come over and fetch her student for herself. Jimin grinds his teeth to keep a smile on his face, even as Jungkook flinches at the call of his name and shrinks a little in on himself. “Your babysitter is here.”
Babysitter? Not brother?
Pulling himself reluctantly out of Jimin’s lap, Jungkook bows politely at Jimin and then makes his little pink rabbit keychain bow as well. “Bye bye,” he says before turning on his heels.
Jimin catches the crook of the boy’s arm gently before he runs off waving his pinkie finger in Jungkook’s face. “One more thing,” he says, hurriedly. “You have to promise hyung that if you are worried or if there are any more misunderstandings, you go and tell the cat teacher who teaches the big kids, okay?” Jungkook nods, and Jimin smiles reaching out to tangle their pinkies together. “You have to promise,” he explains.
Nodding again, Jungkook wriggles his pinkie finger against Jimin’s. “Promise.”
Jimin isn’t ashamed to admit that he might have held onto the boy’s pinkie for a little longer than necessary, but something claws at his chest, screams in the back of his head not to let the boy go at all . Jimin has never really been a kid person, has only ever pondered the idea of having kids because it’s everything Yoongi has ever wanted. Yoongi was born to look after kids, he’s kind and caring and so patient with them that it would be a waste if he didn’t.
Whereas Jimin, on the other hand, he can barely take care of himself half the time. Putting the life of a small child into his hands is just not a very good idea despite what Yoongi may think about Jimin’s compitency.
“Thank you,” Jungkook says, the first to untangle their pinkies. He bows once more before running off across the field for the school exit, shoe laces securely tied so as no more accidents can be had.
“No,” Jimin thinks, slumping against the grass and placing the backs of his hands over his eyes. “Thank you .”