In the Dead of Winter || •PJM• ✔️

Braids

"Dancing. Maybe it's stupid, but I'd love to perform for everyone."

Her smile widens. "We don't have any entertainers. Not even many jokesters. It'd be nice to watch a five minute performance."

"Woah woah, let's not push it. Two minutes, my stamina isn't as good as it used to be."

She pretends to be hurt. "That's disappointing." Did... wait a fucking second, did she just flirt with him? Was a sex joke hidden in there, or is he hallucinating? Before he can question her, she holds out her hand. "Braid is done. Band now, Mr. Park?" He chortles and drops it in her hand. She's quick to tie his hair and lets out a satisfied tune when she sits back. "Wow. So simple yet so nice. You rock the braid, Jimin."

He touches it, amazed out how tight it is. There's no jarring hairs or anything out of place. It's like the perfect braid. "You learned more than a thing or two from your mom," he says, tucking the braid back a bit. Luckily, it's still loose enough to hang with the rest of his hair, so it's not getting in his eyesight.

"Years of practice. You know, I was going to go to school to be a cosmetologist. Long story short, I didn't, but I still know how to do nails pretty well. Can I do those next?" she asks.

"You have nail polish on you? Wait back up - where the hell did you get nail polish at all?"

"At the pharmacy we raided a while back," she says, pulling out a couple of vials. "I have black, green, blue, pink, red. What do you want?"

"Who said I agreed?" Y/n pouts, giving him big eyes. Fuck. No, not the puppy eyes. No. God dammit. "Black," he mumbles.

"What's that?" she asks with a grin.

"Black," he repeats, louder.

She laughs and comes over with two containers. "Put your hands on my thighs," she says, sitting on her knees. Well shit, who is he to say no to that?

Jimin places both his hands on her thighs, pretending his heart didn't jump at the feeling. She goes back to humming and applying a clear polish on first. "Are you painting my nails because you want to pass the time, or because you think I'd look good in black?"

"You're wearing black, we already know you own that color," she replies, focusing on the nails.

"Oh do I? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're complimenting me."

"And if I am?" she asks, glancing up at him for a split second before going back to work.

He keeps his eyes on her concentrated face and admires it. "I'd thank you then call you pretty," he whispers.

She finishes both his hands, pausing for a moment. He waits in silence. She peeps up, and finally their eyes lock, their faces inches apart. Y/n's eyes widen by half a centimeter, and the moment leaves as quickly as it came. "Wave your hands," she says, tearing her eyes away from his.

Regardless of his inner turmoil, he does as he's told and waves his hands back and forth like a fan. "You're a natural," she says, shaking the black nail polish container.

"Thanks for dolling me up."

She chuckles and unscrews the cap, checking to make sure the polish is good. "I enjoy doing it, especially for a newbie like you."

"Y/n whatever your last name is-"

"L/n."

"L/n. Did you invite me up here to bond?"