Taehyung’s screaming was somewhat infectious, and Jungkook couldn’t help but laugh and cheer as group after group passed by. He hadn’t exactly wanted to get dressed earlier this morning when Taehyung had decided Jungkook was coming today (the new update for his favourite game had just come out; can you really blame him?), but he doesn’t want to regret it in the slightest. Everything is so…unusual right now; this is definitely a big day for the LGBT community.

Taehyung had literally burst into the living room this morning, causing enough commotion for Jungkook to actually look away from the television screen. He’d been awake since 4am playing their shared Xbox, and he hadn’t even heard Taehyung get out of bed – until now. At least he looked showered and conscious, it wasn't one of those mornings.

It was one of those mornings for Jungkook.

Taehyung had physically peeled him from the couch, releasing Jungkook from his self-imprisonment in the sofa crease, all the while speeding through explanations – “pride today”, “dress in something cute”, “have you even showered in the last week.”

Jungkook wasn’t disappointed. At least he had enough sense to recognise his game could probably wait until he got home; it wasn’t essential to maintain a high ranking on the leaderboard (although it was certainly up there amongst the things Jungkook considered important), and there probably wasn’t even anyone he knew online at the moment. And the festival really hadn’t cut any corners – Jungkook’s pretty sure he’s never seen this much gay compiled in one place.

And so here they are, standing at the edge of the road shouting encouragement at the groups parading past, because damn it Jungkook is having a good time.

Even when Taehyung screams a personalised scream at someone he actually knows in the parade, and is dragged into the procession by friend? Family? The man Taehyung visits every Friday night? leaving Jungkook to his own devices with just a cheerful “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Jungkook doesn’t actually mind all that much, he’s too far into the crowd’s excitement to consider the feeling of alone and abandoned. It’s that, or the ‘breakfast shots’ Taehyung had decided were appropriate before they left. One or the other. 

Taehyung will be back soon anyway.

The parade pauses every so often, as most casual parades do; waiting for marching bands to catch up or slow moving trucks to move ahead. They were just getting into the flamboyant section anyway, so Jungkook really has no problem with the extra time to stare at men dressed in tight underwear throwing condoms into the crowd, or the enormous amount of dogs people thought to bring out today (Jungkook is very thankful for the number of dogs, extremely thankful for the chance to pet so many beautiful creatures in a single day).

And then it stops again, and Jungkook really wouldn’t mind if he weren’t parked right in front of the one float that is definitely going to kill him.

Because first of all, Taehyung hadn’t mentioned anything about the group from the dance studio Hoseok practically lives in, and then Hoseok has never mentioned cute boys. 

Jungkook is probably staring up with stars in his eyes, because that’s definitely a float of five boys dressed in skin-tight, high-waisted leather booty shirts and cut-off white shirts that are definitely designed to reveal perfect stomachs when the arms are raised.

Jungkook’s in love.

He only really clicks in to what’s going on when all five are standing in a line, bent over and gyrating their hips in time with the music, every single one of them with a smirk like they knew what they were doing.

(Of course they knew, no one chooses an AOA song because of the innocent choreography.)

Jungkook tries to avoid eye contact with Hoseok as half the group sinks down in perfect tribute to Miniskirt’s dance, and manages to instead make eye contact with one hell of a glorious body as they roll their hips down slowly. Jungkook considers himself thoroughly teased when he shifts his eyes a little higher to find the guy already watching him.

He should’ve known, really, should’ve disappeared into the thick of the crowd when he had the chance.

Too late now, he thinks, accepting his doom, as someone screams like they’ve just been stabbed. Hoseok’s practically throwing himself off the side of the truck and into Jungkook’s arms, the scream never really ending but instead turning into some kind of garbled language that Jungkook can somewhat make sense of.

“You have to come up,” Hoseok breathes out, holding Jungkook tightly around the middle like he’s going to run (and maybe he would’ve. He’s fast. He could’ve made it to the street over before Hoseok even started to consider how to kill him).

Jungkook shakes his head far too fast, and the alcohol catches up with him just a little. “No, no, I’m really quite okay,” he mumbles, trying to pry Hoseok’s fingers from his back. The grip only grows tighter.

“But you were so good at girl groups when you let me teach you,” Hoseok whines, pulling out all the stops. Puppy eyes, pout, small whimpering sound…ah, .

Jungkook on his teeth as if he’s even considering the offer, as if he hasn’t already resigned to a day of total embarrassment, as if his gaze hadn’t shifted just above Hoseok’s messy hair to a particular boy dancing back-up for the current solo.

Hoseok knew, he ing knew, because Jungkook hadn’t even said anything but he was already being dragged out towards the truck. And maybe he was letting himself be hoisted onto the back trailer, even if he was complaining all the while.

“I’m not even dressed appropriately,” he states, staggering to his feet. He can’t figure out if the crowd was this wild before he climbed up, but the float definitely offers a different view of things.

Like the view of the man to his right, crossing his arms behind his head and shaking his hips while looking Jungkook dead in the eye, before moving forward to centre stage. Jungkook swallowed roughly, turning back to Hoseok. “I’m not ready,” he says bluntly, and Hoseok laughs.

“They’ll love you,” he says, grinning as he shoves Jungkook into the space occupied moments ago by his tormentor – they both knew Hoseok wasn’t really talking about the crowd, and yet it didn’t make Jungkook feel any less hopeless.

Aforementioned tormentor had stepped forward for his own set of lines, and Jungkook really can’t help but stare. It’s not like he knows the choreography for this part of the song anyway; he and Hoseok used to just dance the choruses to a few popular girl group songs when it was raining outside and singing/screaming just wasn’t enough.

Slightly shorter, definitely cuter, and 100% had it in for Jungkook’s sanity. He doesn’t just sweep his legs around like he was dancing basic choreo, but like it’s some kind of ritual that just happened to involve hypnotising an entire crowd of gays – women and others included, even if it’s just under his spell of ing adorable.

Hoseok punches Jungkook in the arm, signalling that he’s being too obvious for sure, and Jungkook falls to the side just in time to step in line with Pretty Boy. He ignores the smirk he gets, because yes he’s been caught staring, no he’s not blushing (he is not, even if Hoseok is laughing so hard he’s folded in two), and finally, he knows this part of the song.

Yes, the part where half the group turns away to rotate their asses out towards the crowd, while the remainder hold their hands on said butts and repeat the action in the opposite direction. Jungkook is dead. RIP. 

By this point, Hoseok is practically peeing himself, because damn it, Jungkook is blushing and why the did this guy’s have to be so toned.

Hoseok mutters out a little count in – 5, 6, 7, 8 – and Jungkook’s devastatingly reminded of his public location, even if his body quickly latches on to the beat like he’s done this dance a thousand times before: because he has.

He totally would’ve gotten it perfect, it really was just a simple up and down, if fate hadn’t actually wanted him dead. Not dead by embarrassment, or cute boys he’ll never have the guts to talk to, but real life, fell under a truck kind of dead.

The procession starts again, and the vehicle moves with a jolt, sending Jungkook flying – or at least it feels like flying. In all reality, he probably stumbled two feet, but that was more than enough to have him crashing into the dancer beside him.

Jungkook’s officially clocked out of his life. He’s done his hours, served his time, he’s ready to go home. There are hands on his waist, and they’re not Hoseok’s this time, because he can hear the loud laughter behind him even over the top of the truck’s rumbling.

Jungkook can’t even figure out if Pretty Boy – now his saviour – has even realised what’s going on. The song is still going, there are still four other men dancing around him in classic girl group fashion, and yet Pretty Boy seems to have it set in his mind that dancing with his hands still on Jungkook’s hips is part of the choreography.

It’s not.

Jungkook doesn’t move at all, and it’s totally just because he’s afraid to lose his footing again on the truck and not because there’s a guy in really tight shorts dancing against him, so he doesn’t miss the drastic eye roll he gets from Pretty Boy.

“If you don’t want to make a fool of yourself, then just go with it,” Pretty Boy whispers, leaning up to cup his hand around Jungkook’s ear. And wow, what he wouldn’t do to hear that voice every day, oh man holy .

(Also, it should be noted that Jungkook could’ve clearly heard Pretty Boy if he’d whispered from the ruler-length of distance between them. There was no excuse for triggering Jungkook’s whisper kink, except purely to rile him up).

(It worked), 

He can feel the increased pressure on his hips now through Pretty Boy’s fingers, and figures out quickly that he’s actually being forced to dance, so Jungkook lets it happen. Bites his lip, ignores the sudden nails in his side, and just lets Pretty Boy morph their dance into whatever he pleases. 

And yeah, maybe it is kind of fun, and maybe Jungkook doesn’t completely hate Taehyung for abandoning him, and just maybe he actually begins to move on his own. He’s not entirely devoid of skill when it comes to dancing – he’s known Hoseok long enough to pick up the basics here and there. He can feel Pretty Boy stiffen with surprise when Jungkook’s hands land on his shoulders, and they both go down in unison.

It’s probably not the most graceful thing that’s ever graced the stage, but it’s definitely the most Jungkook’s ever felt dancing with someone, and he’s been to quite the fair share of clubs in his time. It’s rather strange, and Jungkook knows he has to tap out now.

The song ends softly, drowned out by the other parade-goers and audience screams, and Jungkook releases Pretty Boy. He smiles, turns and slaps Hoseok’s arm (he takes pleasure in the yelp Hoseok lets out, because damn right that’s going to hurt), and quietly slips off the slow moving truck. There’s been more than enough damage to his heart for one day, and Taehyung really should not be left alone for long anyway.

///

Taehyung throws his arm over Jungkook’s shoulder, pouting with his head thrown back to stare at the trees above. “I can’t believe I missed Hobi,” he complains, slumping most of his weight onto Jungkook, who barely manages to catch them both.

They’re in the gardens where the parade finished – a large open stretch of green grass dotted with tall trees. It’s got the perfect festival vibe to it, local bands playing on the stage nearby while groups just laze on the grass and chat. Jungkook can’t help but feel relaxed.

Jungkook pats Taehyung comfortingly. “You’ll see him later, he’s coming out to karaoke tonight, remember?” Taehyung nods pitifully.

“I can’t believe he let you dance with him and not me.”

Jungkook frowns. “Tae, you weren’t even there, how was he supposed to-”

Taehyung jerks to the left suddenly, tugging them over to an empty patch of shade and cutting Jungkook off in the process. He flops from shoulder to ground in one smooth motion, not unlike jelly falling from a spoon. Jungkook sighs and sits down next to him, already beginning to pluck at the grass.

It’s peaceful in the way that everyone has a shared goal of a good afternoon. No one’s causing trouble; people are just enjoying good food, music, and weather to celebrate the end of a success – Jungkook spots the metal glint of a flask here and there, but there’s not a single part of him that wants to call anyone out for drinking in public. Today has been a good day.

Except for that screaming, the scream of a man being murdered, but Jungkook still really can’t care. Taehyung’s screaming by this point too and Jungkook really hopes they can sort this out before someone calls the police (it wouldn’t be the first time), but he has nothing to worry about when Hoseok and Taehyung become entangled in some strange snake-hug writhing on the ground.

“Um,” interrupts the fourth addition to their small group, and Jungkook decides he wants to go home, because Hoseok and his stupid plans. Pretty Boy settles down next to Jungkook without invitation, ignoring the weird wrestling match going on not five feet away.

He sticks out his hand. “Park Jimin,” Pretty Boy announces, smiling like Jungkook has just confirmed mermaids existed.

Jungkook takes the hand lightly, shaking it. “Jeon Jungkook.”

Jimin breaks eye contact first, staring down at the ground to pick a stray daisy. “You were pretty good up there,” he says, tucking the flower behind his ear like it belonged there.

Jungkook mumbles his thanks. “I’ve known Hoseok for a while, I should’ve expected it,” he adds, fingers returning to tear at the grass. He can see Jimin nodding slowly out the corner of his eye, but doesn’t dare look over.

“He’s been planning this for a while, you know,” Jimin says, sinking back to rest on his hands and tilt his face towards the sky, and now Jungkook has to look because he can see the short white shirt riding up past his lower ribs.

“He’s wanted to do Pride for a whi-” he starts, and then promptly stops when he discovers that Jimin is someone who laughs with their whole body.

“No, no,” Jimin stutters out, nearly collapsing back with the way his body contorts to match his laugh. “He’s wanted to drag you up on that truck for a long time,” Jimin elaborates, finally giving in as he flops back to lay in the grass.

Jungkook might’ve wished he had a camera to take a photo, because Jimin with his hair fanned out in the grass, eyes lightly shut, yellow flower tucked behind his ear, is one of the more beautiful things he’s seen in his life. Key word: might’ve, because he’s really too stunned to do anything but gape in Jimin’s direction. “What?”

Jimin doesn’t open his eyes, moving his hands to rest against his (muscled) stomach. “He’s been trying to set us up for a while, you hadn’t noticed?”

Jungkook would like to point out that he thinks he very much would have noticed Hoseok trying to set him up with someone like Park Jimin, but instead resorts to a coughing fit. “What?” he chokes out again, because he still doesn’t really understand.

Jimin waves his hand in the air likes it’s nothing. “He thinks you’re too lonely and gay for your own good, so he’s been sharing photos of you around the dance studio to try and find you a date.”

Hoseok and his stupid plans.

“And what, you took an interest in some guy you don’t know?” Jungkook jokes, wetting his lips. He was going to positively murder Hoseok at karaoke tonight; what had he been saying about Jungkook to all these strangers? What had he been showing them? Jungkook can list quite a few photo’s Hoseok has that he definitely does not want to become public off the top of his head – drunk Jungkook is a shirtless Jungkook.

“Yeah,” Jimin answers as he cracks an eye open, entirely serious, and Jungkook chokes on his own saliva. He has to catch himself from saying what again, but there’s really nothing left. Does Jimin just have a really subtle sarcasm?

“I told him what I thought of the photos, so it was decided that today I would either be dancing to impress, or fearing his wrath.”

Jungkook nods, because at least that part makes sense. Hoseok can be scary when he’s trying to have something go his way.

And then Jungkook taps the final nail in his coffin, knocking it in deep; what happened to brain-to-mouth filters? “So would you go on a date with me if I asked?” he rushes out, and from somewhere behind, he hears Taehyung snort. It doesn’t matter, not really, not when Jungkook’s all but ready to implode if Jimin doesn’t repond in 5…4…3…

“I don’t even have your number though,” Jimin teases, but he’s pulling a marker – a god damn marker, like he planned this – out of the front of his shorts and waving it in front of Jungkook’s face like a treat. 

Jungkook snatches it from his hand, raising his eyebrows. There’s not much more that could go wrong with today, so in one last stand, he leans over and pulls Jimin’s other hand from his stomach before scribbling out a series of familiar numbers over the expanse of empty skin. He can feel Jimin struggling to contain laughter through the vibrations, but he’s more enthralled by how smooth it is, as the side of his hand brushes what are very clearly abs.

When Jimin gives him a smile and takes the marker back, Jungkook actually returns it. Maybe Taehyung did have the right idea ditching him after all.

(Even if he’s beginning to suspect he was in on the plan too. When is Taehyung ever not in on the plan). 

He’s still going to murder Hoseok though. Hoseok and his (usually) stupid plans.