BLACKTAN w/ imagination

Firm Kiss

This is really effing stupid don't take it seriously. Also idk his horse probably pooped on him or something.

Ten minutes later, she finally finds him in the uni-toilet, scrubbing his hands under the water with the soap idols use when they have to emergently wash their clothes. She folds her arms and watches, amused, as the bar slips from his grasp and he curses, picking it up again to attack his poor palms with a vengeance.

"How long have you been here?" she asks when his eyes flicker to her, acknowledging her presence in the doorway.

"Not long enough," he grouses, setting the bar down to lather the suds on his hands. She frowns when he works the foam all over his fingers, rinses—and reaches for the soap again.

"You're wasting water," she says as he starts what she guesses is at least his sixth round. "Hot water."

He doesn't answer, but his location speaks volumes for him—he must have come from the private aerea bathroom, where the water temperature can be as sporadic as Jin when he is hungry. She shakes her head when he washes his hands free of soap only to start on his possibly seventh round.

"Don't you think that's enough?"

"Fucking hell," he seethes, fingertips massaging the spaces between the long lines of his hands, his skin white with soap suds. "They still feel dirty."

"You're being ridiculous," she points out, and he scowls without looking up from his task.

"It was all over my hands."

"For maybe five seconds. You've been washing your hands for over five minutes."

He chooses not to reply, only rinsing again before once more picking up the bar of soap. Jennie shakes her head, feeling baffled as she stares at him, hunched over the sink, scrubbing his hands furiously as if he only just touched—

"That's it," she declares, stepping fully into the kitchen to walk over to him. She waits for the moment the last few suds go down the drain and Yoongi reaches for the soap again—and she turns the water off.

"Jennie," he says, glaring hard enough to make new rookies wet their pants; but Jennie isn't a new rookie and she only smiles sunnily back, keeping her hand on the knob so he can't turn it back on.

"You're being irrational," she says.

"My hands are still—"

"Yoongi,"

"Kim."

She is not going to let him play the sunbaenim card again—not when they haven't seen each other in two weeks and they're alone and he's acting like a six-year-old child, albeit one with a hygiene obsession. "Stop being silly," she tells him, and when he glowers at her, she glowers right back.

He takes a step back and she starts to move away, thinking he's regained some sense—until she sees his hand darting for the soap again. In one swift motion she locks her arm around his elbow, pushing him away from the sink, and slants her mouth across his.

It is not meant to be a gentle kiss—it is the hard press of her lips against his, nothing more—but his tongue flickers across her bottom lip, distracting her, and she finds her fingers winding through his hair. He brings his hands to her face, the water on them soaking through her shirt, and for a moment she nearly forgets they are in a public area as he leans in, trapping her against the counter, his fingers brushing the stray locks of hair around her ears—

He releases her suddenly and lurches back, hands fisting by his sides. "I can't touch you."

Slightly breathless, Jennie waits for the world to orient itself properly before raising an eyebrow at him. "Why not?"

He scowls and raises two fingers at her. "My hands are still dirty."

She groans. "For fuck's sake, Yoongi," she says, employing one of his choice phrases, "they are not. Besides"—she pulls him to her, fingers digging slightly lower into the waistband of his pants than necessary, bringing her face to his neck, lips hovering close enough to his throat that she can feel him swallow—"there's nothing wrong with being dirty sometimes."