Taehyung practically preens at the attention Jimin immediately gives him, the sound of his laughter coaxing his tail into a happy swish around their legs. It also has him tucking a little closer to the older man, easily draping more of his body over him just as Jimin leans back. The way they fit together is so natural, in so many ways. Secretly, he kind of likes the fact that Jimin’s a couple inches shorter than him now. Of course, it wasn’t always that way, back when he was little more than a scrappy bit of fluff running around Jimin’s ankles, yipping in excitement about anything and everything that caught his eye. But over the years most of that gangly puppy energy stretched out, filled up, and one day Taehyung woke up to the curious fact that huh, he was taller now, wasn’t he? And that was pretty nice. It certainly makes wrapping himself around the blonde a little easier, has him switching to the big spoon every now and again in bed because something about cradling Jimin, pressing close against his neck and back and winding protective arms around his body, satisfies something inside of Taehyung. Maybe it’s a hybrid thing. Maybe it’s a relationship thing. Maybe it’s just a them thing.
Because Jimin doesn’t usually let Taehyung do a lot of the holding. He’s the one who’s held. Always supported and encouraged and cared for beyond his wildest dreams. Taehyung didn’t even know humans like Jimin really existed when he was a young pup. Sure, humans were friendly, and Taehyung wanted one for his own desperately, but they also quickly grew bored of the things that tired them. It had already happened to him once before Jimin scooped him up and took him home--for a little while, Taehyung was anxious it might happen again. He still remembers the first time he accidentally made a mess in the kitchen, food strewn everywhere in a reckless, playful haste, and cried against Jimin’s chest. Whining that he was sorry, that he wouldn’t ever be bad like that again, just please don’t send me back, please don’t make me leave, I want to stay here.
Jimin had soothed his fears as gently and quickly as the little nightlight by their bed. Shh, you’re not going, Tae. Your home will always be right here. Right here with me. That’s when Taehyung realized--he didn’t just manage to get a great human. He got the very best one. And he never let go.
Just like right now, even though Jimin’s comment has him wrinkling his nose in mild offense. “You always have to take risks in the name of science, Jimin,” Taehyung says very seriously. “What if Neil Armstrong thought the risk wasn’t worth it? Or Charles Darwin? What if Dian Fossey thought studying mountain gorillas would be too hard?”
Then, after a thoughtful pause, he relents:
“But you’re right. I don’t want my tummy to hurt.”
Taehyung gives a little pat to said body part, as if reassuring no harm will befall it tonight. It’s a sign of maturity for sure, but also of Jimin’s constant guidance over the years, shaping him into the person he is today. But sometimes, Taehyung really doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get how the things he adores most about Jimin--how selflessly caring he is, how he loves without demands, how he tries his very best to make those around him happy--are also the things that sort of make him want to boop him on the nose with a little toy hammer. Even now, after all these years, it took way too long for Jimin to tell him the truth about how he felt about his schooling. Sitting directly in front of each other on the couch, Jimin’s conflicted expression in his palms, Taehyung could only muster up his most scolding, most fond, most concerned gaze. You always need to tell me when you’re unhappy, Jimin. I need you to be honest, too. Those are the rules. It doesn’t work any other way.
Taehyung lifts his hand up to cling onto Jimin's shoulder once again, eyeing the dozen perfect cookies just waiting to go in the oven. “...I can still have half the batch though, right?”
no subject
Because Jimin doesn’t usually let Taehyung do a lot of the holding. He’s the one who’s held. Always supported and encouraged and cared for beyond his wildest dreams. Taehyung didn’t even know humans like Jimin really existed when he was a young pup. Sure, humans were friendly, and Taehyung wanted one for his own desperately, but they also quickly grew bored of the things that tired them. It had already happened to him once before Jimin scooped him up and took him home--for a little while, Taehyung was anxious it might happen again. He still remembers the first time he accidentally made a mess in the kitchen, food strewn everywhere in a reckless, playful haste, and cried against Jimin’s chest. Whining that he was sorry, that he wouldn’t ever be bad like that again, just please don’t send me back, please don’t make me leave, I want to stay here.
Jimin had soothed his fears as gently and quickly as the little nightlight by their bed. Shh, you’re not going, Tae. Your home will always be right here. Right here with me. That’s when Taehyung realized--he didn’t just manage to get a great human. He got the very best one. And he never let go.
Just like right now, even though Jimin’s comment has him wrinkling his nose in mild offense. “You always have to take risks in the name of science, Jimin,” Taehyung says very seriously. “What if Neil Armstrong thought the risk wasn’t worth it? Or Charles Darwin? What if Dian Fossey thought studying mountain gorillas would be too hard?”
Then, after a thoughtful pause, he relents:
“But you’re right. I don’t want my tummy to hurt.”
Taehyung gives a little pat to said body part, as if reassuring no harm will befall it tonight. It’s a sign of maturity for sure, but also of Jimin’s constant guidance over the years, shaping him into the person he is today. But sometimes, Taehyung really doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get how the things he adores most about Jimin--how selflessly caring he is, how he loves without demands, how he tries his very best to make those around him happy--are also the things that sort of make him want to boop him on the nose with a little toy hammer. Even now, after all these years, it took way too long for Jimin to tell him the truth about how he felt about his schooling. Sitting directly in front of each other on the couch, Jimin’s conflicted expression in his palms, Taehyung could only muster up his most scolding, most fond, most concerned gaze. You always need to tell me when you’re unhappy, Jimin. I need you to be honest, too. Those are the rules. It doesn’t work any other way.
Taehyung lifts his hand up to cling onto Jimin's shoulder once again, eyeing the dozen perfect cookies just waiting to go in the oven. “...I can still have half the batch though, right?”