#d;flksf;aslkfdj;

[snifflyjoonie]

House Call

In which after a week of contemplation, Jimin finally decides to call Min Yoongi.

snz-centric with Yoongi as the sickie and Jimin as the caretaker.

Word Count: 3325

FlowerShop!AU Part 2

Part 1 | Part 3

a/n: Um...surprise? 💀 Taking a break from my regularly scheduled request taking to bring you this pure fever dream word vomit. I went back and forth a lot on the prospects of continuing this AU and decided what the hell -- I had a few more ideas up my sleeve for our little florist yet. And I mean...a few of you asked if I’d be adding more to this AU ever so that technically makes this a request fulfillment, right?...right? Hell. We may even see more of these boys in the future. Who knows? Anyway! Without further delay, I hope you enjoy this random af extra content lol.

-

Oh, god. How long had the phone been ringing for, now? Surely for much longer than normal. 

Jimin paced nervously around his flower shop and chewed anxiously on his thumbnail. After a week’s worth of mulling it over, and some gentle (albeit persistent) encouragement from his friends, he had finally decided to give Min Yoongi a call. For one reason or another — and Jimin wasn’t entirely sure why — he couldn’t get the blonde out of his head. But now that the other man wasn’t picking up his phone, Jimin was quickly starting to believe he may have misinterpreted the other’s advances. 

God. This had been such a dumb idea. Of course Yoongi wasn’t going to answer — why would he? He should just hang up and never think about Min Yoongi ever again in his entire —

The sudden sound of fumbling on the other end of the line made Jimin stop dead in his tracks, his heart nearly skipping a beat.

“Hello?” A deep, gravelly voice answered. It vaguely reminded Jimin of the way someone might sound after just waking up from a nap, but it was nearly pushing 5pm.

“Um!” The florist cleared his throat and shoved his free hand into the pocket of his trousers. “H-hello is this, uh, Min Yoongi?”

He was met with a brief silence, and for a split second he started to worry that he’d possibly dialed the wrong number before the other finally responded.

“Could be.” The voice hummed with the same deep, croaky tone. “Who’s this?”

“Oh, gosh I’m sorry I-I should have said.” Jimin felt himself start to flush as he stumbled over his words. He was very grateful the two of them weren’t face to face as he knew he’d be even more of a mess than he already was. “This is, um, Park Jimin? From the flower shop?”

“Oh shit, the florist?”

Jimin felt himself nodding. He didn’t know why — the other couldn’t see him. Habitual, he assumed, as he confirmed the other’s statement with a nervous waiver to his voice.

The man on the other end instantly snorted, but it had a very obvious hint of amusement to it. Jimin felt almost as if he could hear the playful smile ghosting his lips through the phone.

“Jimin...why didn’t you just text me?”

Jimin’s expression quickly fell. Right. Texting.

“Oh my god. You’re right I should've just — god. I’m just so used to making calls at the shop, I—“

“Stop panicking, I think it’s cute.” Yoongi cut in with another low chuckle before adding, “Old-fashioned, but cute.”

Jimin flushed even deeper still — he couldn’t help it. He was starting to wish he could go back in time and try the whole exchange over again; possibly even save himself any more potential embarrassment with the anonymity of a text message.

God. Why didn’t he think of that?

The pair stayed silent briefly, the atmosphere heavy and a little awkward, before Yoongi finally broke the dead air with a sniffle.

“So, what’s up? You called?” He sniffled again and quickly added, “Not that I’m not happy to hear from you, of course. I’m glad you reached out.”

Jimin swallowed thickly as he began to resume his anxious pacing. The entire phone call had flowed so much more smoothly when he’d rehearsed it in his head — but now that he was actually executing it, it felt choppy as his confidence steadily dropped. In fact, he debated just hanging up and forgetting the whole thing, but remarkably convinced himself to press on.

“Well, I…” he started, pausing to take a deep breath. “I-it was really nice talking to you the other day, and…I sort of wanted to see if we could, um...get to know each other a little better. So I guess I was, uh, wondering if you might want to grab dinner? Maybe...tonight? With...me…?”

His question hung hauntingly in the air as he waited for Yoongi to say something — anything. Even rejection was better than silence.

“...Dinner?”

Jimin found himself nodding again, his stomach in his throat from the unsure tone in other’s voice.

“If you’re free?” He managed back, his voice catching a bit as he spoke. “I know a, um…really great sushi place.”

“Sorry, but no.” Yoongi’s response was blunt, to the point, and had no trouble instantly making Jimin feel absolutely horrible. Worried he may have overstepped his bounds, the nervous florist wasted no time falling into a self-deprecating, rapid apology.

“O-oh. God. I’m so sorry. Did I...misunderstand? God this was so stupid — look I’m really sorry, Yoongi, I—”

“Jimin. Calm down. I’d love to, just...not tonight.” He broke away from the phone to try and muffle a poorly-timed cough, but Jimin could still hear just how much the sound rattled in his chest. “I caught some kind of bug. I wouldn’t want to pass it along to you.”

There were a million different things Jimin wished he would have said back: “Don’t worry about it” “Your health comes first” “Let’s try again when you’re feeling better”.

Instead however, all that managed to come out of his mouth was a quiet, choked, “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Yoongi sighed back and it was only then that Jimin started to clue into the way his words sounded much more rounded and nasally. “I have pretty piss-poor timing. But if you would’ve just called me a few days earlier,” His tone was teasing, and if it weren’t for the circumstances, Jimin felt he may’ve smiled.

“I guess I have bad timing then, too.” The florist offered with a meek chuckle, rubbing the side of his neck with his free hand. “I guess we’ll just...take a rain check?”

“Guess so.” Echoed the other before sniffling sharply and breathing out a hurried, “S-sorry, ‘scuse me—” 

Jimin could hear him fumble the phone away from himself before stifling harshly, just barely being able to contain the sudden sneeze that scraped its way out of his throat. Jimin’s own nose twitched in response, his damned phantom itch problem rearing its ugly head, before he quickly scrubbed the feeling away as Yoongi followed up his sneeze with a low, unhappy groan. 

Jimin pursed his lips. The poor guy really did sound awful.

“God, sorry.” Yoongi apologized again after returning the phone to his ear with another sniffle, this one audibly more wet. “Look, I’d love to keep talking, but.” He let out a tired sounding laugh that made Jimin’s stomach fill to the brim with butterflies. “I really feel like shit. Like… ‘wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy’ type of shit. But...I’ll text you, yeah? When I’m feeling better.”

“O-okay, yeah.” Jimin tried to hide the disappointment in his voice as he spoke. “That sounds good. You, uh…just make sure to get lots of rest.”

“Yeah.” Yoongi huffed out an amused breath. “Will do. See ya later, Park Jimin.”

Jimin ended the call and let out a long, defeated sounding sigh. Min Yoongi was sick. Because of course he would be. Jimin wished he could kick himself. If only he had worked up the courage to call him a few days earlier, then maybe, just maybe, he’d be getting ready to go on a nice sushi date with an extremely cute guy. Instead, any thoughts of a potential ‘something more’ had been squashed indefinitely. 

Granted, the other had said he’d reach back out later, but after the way Jimin had stuttered through the phone call he didn’t have very high hopes of ever hearing from the handsome blonde again.

He figured he’d simply try not to let himself think about it, which ended up proving very difficult when he got a curious phone call from his friend Namjoon a mere few minutes later.

“...Sick, huh?” Namjoon gave a sympathetic sigh that somehow just managed to make Jimin feel worse. “Sorry, Jimin. That really is too bad. Doesn’t mean you’ll never hear from him again, though.”

“Yeah...I guess we’ll see.” Jimin grumbled as he flipped his shop’s small ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’. “But I’m not holding my breath.”

“Hey, don’t be like that. Give the guy some credit.” Namjoon encouraged with a small scoff. Jimin knew he was being a bit melodramatic, but he didn’t care enough to stop. “What’s this guy’s name, anyway? You never told me.”

“It’s, uh… Min Yoongi.” Jimin murmured, keeping his voice small as if to pretend he didn’t already have the name memorized.

“Wait — Min Yoongi?”

“...Yeah?”

The sound of Namjoon’s sudden laughter bubbled through the phone line and made the florist cock an eyebrow curiously. 

“Jimin — I know the guy.”

Jimin nearly dropped his phone.

“You...know him? Really?”

“Yeah.” Namjoon laughed again, clearly amused. “He used to bartend with me a few years ago. We haven’t spoken in awhile, though. God...what a small world.”

Jimin echoed his laughter, but it sounded much more forced and hollow.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, “no kidding.”

There was a brief pause before Jimin heard Namjoon take a deep breath.

“...You said he’s sick?”

“Hmm? Oh. Yeah.” Jimin hummed in confirmation. “He sounded pretty bad.”

“Well…” Namjoon’s tone had taken on a sing-song quality, reminding Jimin of kids passing secrets in a playground. “Do you want his address?”

“Namjoon, what—”

“To swing by, I mean.” Namjoon was quick to cut in and clarify his intentions. “Maybe drop him off some dinner? To my knowledge he’s never moved.”

“Wouldn’t that be...kinda weird?”

“I mean…” Namjoon seemed to mull it over a moment. “You said he gave you his number, right?”

Jimin hummed a yes.

“Then, no. Not weird. Just tell him I told you where to go.” Jimin could hear Namjoon smiling through the phone. “Jimin. Do you want his address or not?”

“W-well…” Jimin thought it over. “Do you know if he likes sushi?”

*

Jimin stared at the outside of Yoongi’s door as he chewed anxiously on his bottom lip. He barely knew Yoongi, had only ever spoken to him really just the once, and yet there he stood: take-out sushi in one hand and over-the-counter cold meds in the other. A voice in the very back of his mind kept screaming at him to just leave while he still had the chance, before Yoongi realized he had even showed up, but he did his best to try and ignore it. He had already come all this way, bought all these things, now the very least he could do would be to deliver them. With a nervous sigh, Jimin mustered up every ounce of courage he had left and quickly rapped his knuckles against the hardwood of Yoongi’s door.

Sure enough, a raspy cough could be heard approaching from inside of the small flat, and not a minute later, the door started to unlatch and pull open.

Jimin watched with a tight-lipped smile as Min Yoongi’s head slowly peeked into view, his eyes squinting against the bright rays of sunlight that streamed in through the open door. His bleached blonde hair was disheveled with sleep, sticking out in ways that made him look much younger than he actually was. He had a tissue crumpled in one hand that he kept tightly pressed against the base of his red, raw nose, and he wore a pair of black glasses that, for one reason or another, Jimin just simply had never pictured. 

He had only seen the man one other time previously, but his rumpled, sickly appearance still somehow managed to catch Jimin a bit off guard. Out of everything though, the part that easily surprised Jimin the most were the beautiful floral tattoos that ran up and down Yoongi’s small arms. They seemed to stop just before his wrists and extend upwards towards his shoulders, and if the splash of colour at the base of his v-neck was anything to go by, they clearly bled their way onto his chest as well.

“...Jimin?” Yoongi’s voice dripped heavily with congestion and made him sound as if his nose was stuffed full of cotton. He took a deliberate step into the space created by his open door, seemingly trying to stop the other’s view inside, and ran a hand through his messy hair. “How the fuck did you…?”

“Uh! Well, do you know Kim Namjoon…?” Jimin watched Yoongi’s glassy eyes soften as he seemed to recognize the name. “He’s, uh, a friend of mine from high school. He passed along your address when I told him you weren’t feeling well. You sounded pretty awful on the phone so I just thought I’d…” Jimin trailed off sheepishly and raised both of the bags in his hands up a little higher as if that was somehow a good enough explanation.

“So you decided to make a house call, huh?” Yoongi scoffed, “...You really are old-fashioned.” He turned his upper body in towards his apartment and coughed roughly against his fist before facing Jimin again. “I don’t even know what to say. This is—” He gestured to the two bags as he searched for the right words, “—very sweet. Thank you.”

Jimin felt his cheeks grow warm as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. At this point, the logical thing to do would be to hand the poor man over the food and medicine and be on his way. But for one reason or another, Jimin couldn’t bring himself to do it. He didn’t want to go, didn’t want to miss an opportunity to chat with the man he’d somehow become so heavily infatuated with. That’s why instead, without too much of a second thought, Jimin simply found himself blurting out: “I brought enough food for two. Do you think I could come in?”

Yoongi seemed to hesitate a moment at the other’s forward request before he stole a glance over his shoulder at the room behind him.

“I mean...yeah, alright.” He shrugged and ran a knuckle against the underside of his nose, sidestepping out of the doorway so Jimin could enter. “I wasn’t expecting any visitors, so uh, sorry about the mess.”

Jimin shook his head in understanding as he waddled his way into Yoongi’s flat, kicking off his shoes in the doorway. He passed the plastic medicine bag over to the other as Yoongi mumbled something about looking for a facemask before Jimin allowed himself a quick moment to look around. 

The walls of the flat were filled with stunning floral artwork, and many half-finished easels were scattered in small stacks along the floor. Yoongi had a sketchbook laid out on his coffee table next to a pile of used tissues and a cup of what Jimin assumed could only be tea. The air smelt vaguely of eucalyptus and menthol and there was a gentle beat of music playing from his television.

“Are you...an artist?” Jimin couldn’t help but ask as he shuffled his way towards the coffee table to set down the food. He stole a glance at Yoongi’s open sketchbook and cracked a smile at the beautiful sunflower drawings the other had been working on.

“In a sense.” Yoongi affirmed, joining Jimin by the coffee table with a facemask now resting beneath his chin as he pulled a tissue from a nearby box. “I’m a tattoo artist.” 

The surprised expression on Jimin’s face was enough to coax a small chuckle out of Yoongi as the blonde wrapped the new tissue around his nose and twisted his upper body away to blow.

“I didn’t even know you had tattoos.” Jimin admitted as he started laying out the containers of sushi onto the table. “You were in a jacket the last time I saw you.”

Yoongi hummed in remembrance as he switched the pressure of his fingers from nostril to nostril to try and clear himself out. 

“Not a fan?” He asked teasingly after finishing, coughing lightly against his fist as he threw the tissue into a nearby bin.

“Oh Yoongi, are you kidding?” Jimin gasped, shifting his attention from their sushi dinner to the artwork that stained Yoongi’s skin. “They’re beautiful.”

Jimin could tell Yoongi seemed a bit taken aback by his sincerity as a small pink blush started to dance its way across the man’s face. He offered him a warm smile before plopping himself down onto the sofa with a small grunt. 

“All the rolls are, uh, basically the same.” Jimin explained as Yoongi took a seat adjacent to him. “I just doubled my normal order, so I hope you like it.”

Yoongi nodded, dabbing his wrist against his nose as he made a grab for one of the containers and a pair of wooden chopsticks. If he seemed at all put off by Jimin’s sudden appearance on his doorstep he didn’t show it. Instead, the man continued to carry himself with an air of nonchalance that left Jimin wondering what he might have been thinking about the whole situation. 

Suddenly, an urgent sounding sniffle from Yoongi pulled Jimin from his train of thought as the older man hurriedly set his container of food back onto the coffee table. He gasped in a way that bordered on sounding erotic and swiftly tried to yank his mask over the lower half of his face. Turning his upper body as far from Jimin as he possibly could, Yoongi finally fell into himself with three sneezes that he tried to crush into the crook of his elbow.

“hH’INGx’shh! ‘NNGT’tshh! hH’ISSHhh’hiuu!” He rose back up with a harsh sniffle and pulled his glasses from his face. “Jesus, fuck. I’m sorry.” He grumbled as he smooshed the heel of his palm against the corner of one eye.

Jimin shook his head, bringing a sweater-donned hand up to cover his nose and mouth as Yoongi stole some tissues from a nearby box.

“Don’t be sorry.” The florist managed, his own nose itching empathetically from Yoongi’s sudden outburst. He did his best to fight the feeling — his sympathy sneezing always made him feel a bit silly — but his fight proved to be in vain as he sucked in a shuddering breath through his teeth and rocked forward against his sleeve with a single breathy sneeze.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow at him from behind a tissue, chuckling slightly mid blow.

“I told you we should’ve done this a different day.” He joked as Jimin scrubbed his nose against his sleeve. “Now look at you.”

“No, no, I’m really fine, trust me.” Jimin assured as Yoongi finished blowing his nose. 

“Oh, that’s right. You ‘just sort of sneeze a lot’. How could I forget?”

Jimin buried his face into the sleeves of his sweater and groaned, cringing at the memory as Yoongi placed his sushi container back into his lap with a laugh.

“Hey, don’t be embarrassed.” He snapped his wooden chopsticks in two before continuing. “I was a mess the last time you saw me. Honestly I’m shocked you even called me.”

Jimin let out an airy chuckle at the memory of Yoongi’s first appearance in his shop a week prior. The poor man couldn’t have been in the shop for more than five minutes before the sickly sweet aroma of the flora overwhelmed him. With the memory now fresh in his mind, Jimin once again turned his attention to the beautiful sunflower drawings in Yoongi’s sketchbook.

“Honestly I’m a bit surprised to see all the floral artwork you have. I mean...even your tattoos.” He gestured towards one of Yoongi’s arms with another small giggle. “With an allergy like yours I guess I just assumed you wouldn’t be a fan.”

“Hey, I told you before — I love flowers.” Yoongi popped a piece of sushi into his mouth before continuing. “They just don’t love me back.”

“Well I mean, if it’s any consolation, I’m a florist and so far I don’t dislike you.”

“Hey,” Yoongi snorted. “That works for me.”

#d;flksf;aslkfdj; #you guys this is pure word vomit idk how it got so long #the ending is weak i'm sorry it's 2:30am #but REGARDLESS #i hope you guys like some random af bonus yoonmin content lmfao #there isn't even that much snz #god don't hate me pls #bts sickfic #sick!yoongi #mine #yoonmin #it's literally just fluff #bts au #bts snzfic #bts snz