Eventually, Yoongi does manage to get Jennie to the coffee shop he told her about. He tries to remind himself it’s not a date, but it’s difficult when Jennie shows up in a short flowery dress rather than the training sweats he’s used to seeing her wear for rehearsals.

When she greets him, he grimly keeps his gaze trained on her face rather than letting it trail down her bare shoulders and smooth arms.

Of the many Hongdae cafes, this is one of the lesser-known gems, which is just how Yoongi likes it. He orders them two of the house specials, something milky with lots of sweet honey and foam that makes Jennie’s face light up when she tries a sip. He hides a smile behind his cup at her reaction.

When they sit down, drinks in hand, Jennie says, “You didn’t need to pay for me, you know.” Her lips are pursed in a tiny pout.  

She must have been pinched a lot as a kid, Yoongi thinks, idly imagining all the Daegu grannies that would kill to have a go at Jennie’s cheeks.

“I’m older, it’s my job to pay,” he says carelessly, shrugging, “Just let oppa take care of it.”

An odd pause follows. When Yoongi looks up, Jennie is staring down at her cup, biting her lip.

“Jennie?”

The girl just shakes her head and takes a long swallow of her coffee. It leaves a faint line of foam across her upper lip that Yoongi would lean across the table and wipe off if he was a schmuck in a drama. Since he’s not, he waits to see how long it takes her to realize. If she notices him smirking about it, she doesn’t say anything.

When they were at the restaurant, Yoongi had suffered weeks of his manager’s style of dieting and was too hungry to make any real conversation. This time they have a proper chance to talk, without their managers hovering over their shoulders.

It is a little awkward, because this is the first time they try to make conversation without work between them, (and when they last met, Jennie soaked the front of Yoongi’s hoodie like her heart would break), but then Yoongi starts complaining about how Taehyung is so picky he eats like a ing baby and Jennie flares up over her own members.

“No, but seriously, who needs fifty bottles of yogurt in one fridge?” Jennie rages, pointing her stirring spoon at Yoongi as if he’s the culprit, “I can hardly open the door without yogurt falling out! And then half the yogurt goes to waste because we never finish it in time—big surprise there!”

Yoongi ends up laughing so loudly that the shop’s single barista startles awake from where he was not-so-subtly dozing against the cash register.

After extensive ranting about their respective groups, they talk about music and swap stories of their families and hometowns. Jennie has lived in more places than he's ever imagined, but she still acts like it’s the most interesting thing in the world to listen to him wax poetic about Daegu’s scuffed up basketball courts and modest hip hop scene.

When she’s in the middle of a story involving her dorm in New Zealand, rat traps and fireworks, Yoongi is hit by the realization that his cheeks ache because he’s smiled more in this one hour than he has in the entire week.

He deliberately, wisely, doesn’t reflect on the significance of this.