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Il fait trop froid (sweater weather)

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Here’s the thing: Min Yoongi likes holding hands. A lot.

So when Jimin is standing next to him, wearing a sweater that’s a little too big for him, whose arms hang down past his fingertips, can Yoongi be blamed for reaching over and taking Jimin’s hand in his own?

Of course not. It only makes sense.

God, his hand is freezing, Yoongi thinks. They’re outside, trying to get a music video shot for the next comeback, but it’s the Save Me shoot all over again- this time, even colder.

They should be inside, near a fire, or at least bundled up, but they aren’t even wearing gloves because they would take too long to put on and remove between each shot. Yoongi can see Seokjin pressed into Namjoon’s side, and Taehyung and Jungkook are trying to convince someone to bring them hot chocolate as Hoseok watches the replay of the last few minutes.

Yoongi finally works up the nerve to look at Jimin, who is giving him a huge smile.

“Your hands are so warm, hyung! How are you doing that?”

Before he can answer, Seokjin speaks for him.

“You know what they say: warm hands, cold heart!”

Namjoon rolls his eyes. “I don’t think that’s how that expression goes, hyung.”

“It has to be. We all know Yoongi’s heart is solid ice.” Seokjin’s smirk only falters for a moment when Namjoon flicks him on the forehead and pulls him away, towards Hoseok.

Yoongi is still looking at Jimin, whose cheeks and nose have turned red from the cold, visible even through the makeup he has on.

“Here.” Yoongi holds out his other hand, palm up. Jimin places his hand in Yoongi’s, and Yoongi pulls both of Jimin’s hands up towards his face. He holds them near his mouth and breathes out slowly, Jimin laughs as his breath tickles over their fingertips, and Yoongi can already feel Jimin’s hands warming up. Once his fingers no longer feel like icicles, Jimin lowers their hands, fingertips still resting on Yoongi’s palms.

“Thank you, hyung,” Jimin says, and there’s a moment where he looks like he’s going to say something more, but then Jungkook and Taehyung bound up with steaming cups of tea that they have coaxed from some of the crew and start passing them out. Jimin takes one and curls his hands around it, fingers only barely visible past the end of his sleeves. He takes a sip before tilting the cup towards Yoongi, who takes it gratefully because his palms feel a little colder now that they aren’t holding Jimin’s hands.

Jimin gets bolder after that, grabbing Yoongi’s hands every time they have a break from filming. “My own personal hand warmer,” he says, sticking his tongue out at Jungkook when he teases Jimin about it. Yoongi doesn’t care. He’ll let Jungkook tease all he wants, as long as Jimin doesn’t stop lacing their fingers together and holding them tightly to his chest.

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There’s an armrest between their seats on the plane, and Yoongi can hear Seokjin grumbling about it from the row across from them. Namjoon whispers something that seems to placate him, and the next time he looks over, Seokjin’s head rests on Namjoon’s shoulder, their hands clasped together in Seokjin’s lap as Seokjin sleeps and Namjoon reads.

Jimin, on Yoongi’s right, is tapping away at his phone, so Yoongi settles in, pulling his headphones onto his head and letting the music wash over him. He is, surprisingly, not tired, but his eyes flutter shut and he loses himself into the harmonies floating into his ears until a poke to his elbow makes him open his eyes. Jimin is still scrolling through his phone, but his left hand is outstretched towards Yoongi.

When Yoongi raises his eyebrow in confusion, Jimin wiggles his fingers and gives Yoongi a look that says what are you waiting for?, so Yoongi uncrosses his arms and takes Jimin’s hand in his. They settle on top of the armrest, Jimin palm-up, and Yoongi palm-down, and Yoongi rubs his thumb over Jimin’s thumb, tucked under his.

They seem to realize at the same time that something isn’t quite right. Yoongi tilts his head to the side and untangles their fingers, shifting over so that his thumb is now under Jimin’s. It’s better, but still wrong. He looks over at Jimin, whose lips are pursed in a pout as he stares at their hands.

Yoongi pulls away again, this time flipping his hand over and gently pushing Jimin’s hand off of the armrest. Jimin gets the idea and readjusts, so that now his palm is turned down, his pinkie tucked in between Yoongi’s longer pinkie and ring fingers. They’re still for a second, trying to decide whether it’s right, now, until Jimin lets out a quiet huff. He lets go of Yoongi’s hand one more time and shifts over again, and this time, the feeling is blessedly right.

Yoongi rubs his thumb over Jimin’s knuckle again and glances over at him. Jimin has gone back to his phone, but he’s got a tiny smile on his face, and he squeezes Yoongi’s hand a little tighter.

There’s movement in the corner of his vision, and Yoongi turns his head farther to find Taehyung’s grinning face pressed in between the heads of their seats.

“There was more drama in the thirty seconds of hand-holding I just watched than in anything I’ve ever acted in. I never would have guessed that Yoongi-hyung would go for the under-grip.”

Jimin rolls his eyes and puts his phone down in his lap. Without ever letting go of Yoongi’s hand, he reaches over with his right hand, scrabbling around for a moment before finding what he wants.

Smirking slightly, he carefully tugs Yoongi’s hand forward and pushes the armrest up. Taehyung doesn’t have enough time to react, and his pained “hey!” makes Namjoon turn towards him with narrowed eyes as Seokjin begins to stir.

When Yoongi looks over, Jimin has on his very best “who? me?” expression, and he gives Yoongi’s hand another quick squeeze.

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Yoongi’s face is smooshed up against something hard when he wakes up. He tries to blink the sleep from his eyes, but they stubbornly refuse to open. He registers that his neck feels a little funny, but sleep is way more important right now than avoiding feeling like death in the morning. That’s future-Yoongi’s problem.

“Yoongi-hyuunnng,” a voice whines from somewhere above him. “You can’t sleep here, get up.”

“Don’t wanna,” Yoongi mumbles, or at least tries to mumble, but his lips don’t want to form around the words, so they come out a little slurred.

“Come on, hyung. You’re going to feel so bad in the morning if you sleep like that. Here, let go of the mouse-“

There’s a pause, and Yoongi can feel the mouse being prised from his left hand. Oh. He was working on a new song. That’s right. Did he fall asleep at his desk? Fingers slip in between his and tug.

Yoongi is finally able to open his eyes. Jimin’s cheeks are a little puffy, like he was just asleep recently as well. There’s an exasperated expression on his face, but it’s soft, and turns into a smile when Yoongi meets his eyes.

“It’s time to go to bed, hyung. You’ve got to stop staying in here so late.”

Yoongi raises his head from the table to blink sleepily at the monitor in front of him. 3:28 am.

He lays his head back down. “Just leave me here to die, Jiminie.”

Jimin giggles at that and tugs at his hand again. Oh yeah. That was a thing that was happening, wasn’t it? Yoongi lets his fingers tighten around Jimin’s. Slowly, he raises himself until he is sitting upright in his chair, still holding Jimin’s hand. When Jimin tries to pull him to his feet, he instead pulls Jimin down until he has to sit down in Yoongi's lap to avoid overbalancing. He wraps his arms around Jimin’s waist and smushes his face into Jimin’s shoulder.

“You live here now.”

Jimin just hums for a moment, but then he wiggles his way out of Yoongi’s grasp and stands back up.

“It’s bedtime, hyung. Come on.” He tugs Yoongi to his feet, successfully this time, and turns towards the door. He’s only taken one step forward when he stops, looks back, and holds out his hand to Yoongi.

Yoongi lets Jimin lead him down the hallway, hand in hand, until they stop in front of Yoongi’s door. Jimin pushes the door open and scoots Yoongi inside, pointing him towards the bed.

“Nighty-night, Yoongi-hyung.”

Jimin releases his hand and disappears into the dark of the hallway. Yoongi stares after him for a moment, sleepy brain trying to turn the warmth of Jimin’s hand in his into a permanent memory. He’s about to shamble towards his bed when he hears soft footsteps padding towards him again.

“I forgot something, hyungie.”

And then Jimin’s soft lips are pressed to his cheek, his right hand clasped in both of Jimin’s hands. For a fleeting moment, Yoongi tries to figure out whether he’s dreaming, and then Jimin’s giving him a smile so big it seems to take over his face.

“Sleep well, Yoongi.”

Jimin is gone before Yoongi can even speak, but it only takes a second for a dopey grin to spread over his own lips. He stumbles into his room, flops onto the bed, and silently screams into his pillow like a lovesick fangirl. God help his poor heart.

 

 

Here’s the thing: Park Jimin likes it when Min Yoongi holds his hand. A lot.

So can anyone blame him for making sure to stand next to Yoongi in his slightly-too-big sweater, or for letting Yoongi have the under-grip on the plane, or for kissing Yoongi’s sleepy pink cheek while he holds his hand?

Of course not. It only makes sense.