Warm Hands (Ice Cold Heart) | Jimin x Reader

Five

The good news is that you manage to avoid Jungkook for the next hour. You're busy, making the rounds, meeting new people that you've missed at earlier events to formally introduce yourself as Jimin's wife. You say your greetings to his parents too, and let his mom coo over how adorable you two are for matching, never mind the fact that her son's thirty-one and far past the point of being gushed over. To that, Jimin pokes your cheek and says he's slightly more adorable, right? You roll your eyes in good humor, to his mom's delight.

For the most part though, it's all conventional. Things you're used to, like asking after so-and-so's children and beloved pets, which is a routine that you can get behind. You generally like routine, orderly things like rules and regulations that you can rely on. It's part of why you were so drawn to practicing the law in the first place. But even in matters of the law, you've long learned that there's so much grey; there's always that one unexpected element, the wrench in the plans. And for you, that's Jimin.

Even if you know how to play the role of Mrs. Park, you never could have foreseen Jimin being so much of a... tease. He doesn't shy away from touching you all night, whether that's running his fingers along your arm while asking you so sweetly if you're cold, or dropping chaste, fleeting kisses into your hair. And you know. You are a logical, reasonable person and you know it's all part of the smoke and mirrors but your heart still can't settle. On one level, to have this much attention after so long is flattering. But the other part of it is that you can't stop wondering if Jungkook can see you two together like this. Is he looking for you? Is he still trying to talk to you? (What do you even want the answer to be?)

"C'mon, stop thinking about work. Dinner's starting." It's Jimin's hand that tugs at you from where you stand, immersed in your own mind again. "Your favorite time, right?"

"Of course. Food makes everything better," you reply as you follow his beckon, the warmth of his hand in yours having become an unexpected constant tonight. "And I wasn't thinking about work. I'm not that much of a workaholic."

Jimin tosses a look of disbelief at you from over his shoulder. "Uh huh. You also didn't eat your body weight in shrimp things tonight." He laughs when your lips twist into a scowl, since he seems to be able to tell you don't mean it by now. "It's fine. I like passionate people." He leaves it at that, as he leads you into the banquet room.

Two enormous, elongated tables have been set up, expertly decorated to fit the winter theme with white crystal snowflakes and darts of festive red velvet peeping through artsy centerpieces. You're surprised the wood isn't caving under the sheer weight of all the aesthetic pieces, but you figure there has to be some architectural magic at work here. In the corner, a small, live orchestral ensemble plays classical covers of traditional Christmas carols.

Jimin pulls out a chair near the end of a table, gesturing for you to sit.

"Thanks." You slide in, next to an older teenager, who's the daughter of some VP of some company that works with Promise. She hardly spares you a glance, preoccupied with chatting with the girl beside her, somehow talking about lip gloss and stock options at the same time.

You spot Mr. and Mrs. Leung walking towards you and you're about to gesture for them to join you, but Mr. Leung says, "let's let the young ones sit together, dear. They have more to chat about." He gives you a wink as he takes them both to the other table, while Nikita and Natacha take their place beside Jimin.

The hall gradually fills up, the pitch of voices swelling as all that free booze starts to take effect. You look over at the other table, finding yourself actually smiling at the cheery atmosphere and the red, happy faces. You've never felt like you belonged in this kind of place, in a room with people whose collective net worths equal more wealth than some small countries, but tonight, despite everything, it doesn't seem too bad.

You turn your head back and your mood drops when you see none other than Jungkook take the seat right across from you.

He catches your eye for a second as his lips press together into a line that means sorry, I've got no choice as he sits down, evidently directed here by the young woman he's still in conversation with. You recognize her, as you search through your mental catalogue. Michelle, you're pretty sure her name is. A ballet dancer, and it shows in every elegant move she takes, even in something as simple as taking a sip of water, and in her impeccable posture. You're not envious, you think as you pointedly look away from them, though you can't tune out the excited sound of her voice. It's just strange to see him like this. Without you. But it's not like you went out much together towards the end anyway. He always wanted to stay at home and order junk takeout because neither of you could bother to cook.

Thankfully, they start serving dinner within another minute. When you remember that you RSVP'd for the filet mignon, your excitement banishes all bad memories away. The steaming plates come out impeccably fast, filling the entire room with the scent of freshly made food that always reminds you of family and makes you feel more than a little nostalgic for the times you used to help your mom out with Christmas dinner, one quietly elaborate for just the three of you.

You've just taken your first bite, savoring the buttery, tender flavor when Nikita's voice booms from your right as he looks down at his plate. "Babe, shit, I must've missed it on the invite. There are scallops with the salmon."

"Oh." Natacha face falls as she scrutinizes the dinner, realizing the artfully arranged snowflake is actually the mollusk in question. "Jeez. Good thing you caught it before I ate."

"Are you allergic, Natacha?" Jimin asks.

"Yes, badly. Trust me, it's not a pretty look." Natacha winces, as if remembering something awful. "I wonder if they have extras of something else."

"No, no, take mine," Jimin immediately offers, pushing his steak towards her. "If you eat meat that is. I haven't touched it at all, so we can trade."

"Are you sure, Jimin?"

"Of course," he says, already swapping the plates for her with that effortless, kind smile of his. "No problem."

But before the salmon can settle for ten seconds before your husband, you're pulling a switch of your own. Yours for his, so the fishy platter finally finds home in front of your knife and fork. Without another word, you cut into the fillet, humming when you slip a piece into your mouth and feel it fall apart perfectly on your tongue.

Only after you swallow do you look at Jimin, finding him completely confused as he mouths, "why?"

"You don't like seafood," you whisper back, and when he smiles so wide his eyes turn into half-moon crescents, you can't stop yourself from returning a small grin of your own.

(Over the course of dinner, a few pieces of steak make their way onto your plate anyway. You don't question it. They're delicious.)