No Strings

(EXTRA) Part 11

"Are you?" you say.

A flash of confusion crosses his face. "I – what?"

"You said sorry," you say, arching a brow. "I asked you if you are."

The guy stares, taken aback before he smiles. "Oh, I get it," he laughs, leg brushing yours. "No, that was just an expression of speech. I think you're beautiful and wanted to say hi."

Your smile turns brittle, grip on your drink tightening. Your remark was facetious – it takes a special kind of oblivious to ignore the fact that you are unwanted. Leaning away, you glance again at the bar. Seokjin, Namjoon and Hoseok are out on the dance floor, Minsun has not reemerged from the bathroom – fuck women's restrooms and their lines – but once she does, you know she will kick this guy to the curb.

"Anyways," he announces – louder, as the next song begins. "I was wondering if there's a mirror in your pants?"

You nearly choke on your drink. "I'm not wearing pants."

This is true, you are wearing a dress – albeit, not one as tight and short as Minsun, but a dress nonetheless.

Ignoring the warning in your eyes, the guy leans in to continue. "Well." The guy has the audacity to wink. "I think you must have a mirror in your pants, since I can definitely see myself in them."

A long moment passes while you attempt to regather your jaw from the ground. The pickup line is horrible, borderline offensive in its awfulness and you are about to go off when an arm settles over your shoulder.

"Thank the fucking lord that I found you." Jimin exhales, pushing a hand through his hair. His hair returned to black sometime last summer, which was a welcome surprise. "I've been searching for you everywhere – and Y/N, listen. We really need to talk."

The guy looks at Jimin, then you. "I'm sorry," he says – although this time, the apology really does not sound genuine. "Who are you?"

"I'm sorry." The corner of Jimin's mouth lifts. "I'm Jimin. And you are?"

The man frowns. "Clint."

"Well, Clint." When Jimin smiles, his gaze remains cold. "To answer your question – I'm the dude who slept with Y/N two weeks ago. I'm also the dude who needs to tell her something important."

Closing his eyes, Jimin steels himself. "Y/N." Seriously, he reaches out for your knee.

"Yes?" you say, trying hard not to laugh.

"Okay." Jimin opens his eyes. "So, it's like this. About a month ago, I noticed my spunk had this weird smell. I kinda brushed it off, thought was nothing. I don't know," Jimin sighs, looking up at the ceiling. "I decided I needed to eat more pineapple, or something."

You somehow manage to turn your laugh into a cough. "What are you trying to tell me?" you demand, mock-horrified. "Did you come all the way to this bar, just to say that –"

"Yes." Dramatically, Jimin looks you in the eyes. "I have the clap," he announces, loud enough for Clint to overhear. "Possibly several of them. And I probably gave them all to you – through my penis."

"Alright. I'm out." Clint nearly falls off the stool in his haste to escape.

Trying not to laugh, you take a sip your drink. Jimin grins, wriggling to fill the space in between you. "Hi, baby," he greets you, kissing your gently. "How was work?"

Smiling back at him, you wrap both arms around his neck. "It was awful," you say in between kisses. Moving closer, your hips brush his on the stool. "Better, now that you're here."