Chapter Text
“Alright, you’re fine. I got you.”
“I sure as hell don’t fucking feel fine,” Jimin scoffs, wincing as Hoseok tightens his grip on his arm. “Ouch, fuck off. Why are you gripping my arm like that, it’s not your fucking dick,” he hisses, trying to regain control of his injured arm. They’re currently hiding behind the dumpsters in an alley a few streets away from the club, waiting for Seokjin and Namjoon to pick them up.
After Hoseok had informed them of the little mishap with Jimin’s bullet wound, they (re: Seokjin) had demanded to know where their location was and whether Jimin’s pain, on a scale from one to ten, qualified for an on the down-low hospital visit. (Jimin had rated it a three because yes, he’d been in worse situations like this but it had still hurt like a bitch.)
“I think I know the difference between an arm and a penis,” Hoseok mutters, rolling his eyes at Jimin’s vulgar choice of words.
“Well, of course you’d know. I bet your dick isn’t even the size of my pinky, and I’ve been told I have very small fingers,” Jimin bites back, obviously in a mood because of his injury and not because, Hoseok hopes, this is how he usually is.
“Maybe I should have left you at the club for Min’s goons to deal with. I bet they’d love to munch on a fucking gremlin,” Hoseok snaps at him, fed up with how far he’s let Jimin escalate this. “You know, you should really be grateful I got your ass out of there in one piece.” He sees Jimin attempt to open his mouth and he slaps a hand over the other’s mouth, effectively causing him to shut up in surprise. “Before you come at me with the ‘I got shot’ bit, at least you’re alive, dumbass. Not many people back there can say that.”
Jimin glares at him profoundly, plush lips set in a grim frown, when they’re suddenly illuminated by a blinding light. Hoseok’s first instinct is to not let his guard down, be aware of his surroundings, but when he recognizes the head poking out the window, he grins, throwing his hands up and waving them wildly, the universal sign for SOS.
A black Mustang stops in its tracks right in front of the two agents, tires screeching as Seokjin pokes his head out of the driver’s side of the car. “Get in,” he says, voice stern and stoic.
“Good to see you’re still kicking and punching,” Hoseok says, fist-bumping Namjoon as he makes his way to the back seat of the car. “Need help?” Hoseok asks Jimin, who’s clutching his arm in the makeshift sling made from the material of Hoseok’s white button-up. It had hurt Hoseok a little to tear the garment, but it had already been stained with bodily fluids Hoseok would rather not want to deal with later on. At least he was putting it to good use now.
“Hurry the fuck up, we need to get that wound checked out as soon as possible,” Seokjin says, turning around to make sure both Jimin and Hoseok are secure in the back. “Seatbelts on?” He asks, only making Jimin scoff as he puts the car in drive.
“What are you, a soccer mom?” Jimin scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Just drive, my arm’s starting to get numb and I’m already soaking through this shirt.”
“I’d put your seatbelt on if I were you,” Namjoon says, turning around to look at Jimin and Hoseok, a smirk on his face. “Hyung drives like a mad man when he’s stressed.”
As if on cue, Seokjin speeds down the alleyway at a speed definitely not suitable for the compact stretch of the alley. Hoseok grabs onto the roof handle of the car as Seokjin makes a sharp turn into a street, receiving a few angered honks from the other cars on the road.
“You should really drive safer, I’d like to live long enough to see my arm get better,” Jimin murmurs, wincing as Seokjin turns on another corner, causing him to hit his side on the car door.
“We need to get there soon,” Seokjin mutters under his breath, meant only for himself but Hoseok still manages to catch what he’s saying. “Make sure not to get any blood on the seats, it’s a rental and I don’t want to have to pay extra out of my own pocket because someone stepped out of line and got shot on the job,” Seokjin barks, glaring at both Hoseok and Jimin through the rearview mirror.
“At least I wasn’t drinking on the job, unlike the rest of you,” Jimin huffs, rolling his eyes. “I may have gotten shot, but at least there wasn’t any alcohol in my system, which I will make sure to include in my report—”
“No one cares about your ‘What I Did This Weekend’ assignment, Park,” Hoseok complains. “Unlike you, at least we know how to take the edge off while you’re here fuming because there’s a stick up your ass.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t argue when tensions are already high as is,” Namjoon interrupts. “If you two hadn’t been in each other’s faces about stupid shit, maybe you’d have noticed we’re being followed.”
Hoseok quickly snaps his head to look behind him, and sure enough, there are three, black SUVs on their tail. “Do you think we can lose them if we make it onto the highway?” Hoseok inquires, pulling out his phone to open up the Maps app.
“It’s highly likely, we have a better chance at also running a yellow or red light and gaining some distance.” Namjoon turns to Seokjin, a sly smirk on his face. “What do you say?”
Seokjin sighs, relaxing his shoulders, eyes flitting all around them as he speeds down the street. “We’ll do both,” he states, putting more pressure on the gas as they approach a traffic light that’s just turned green. They’re still a ways away, but they can see that the pedestrian timer has hit ten seconds. “Hoseok, just how far away are they from us?”
“I’d roughly estimate that the closest SUV is ten meters away. Do you think we’ll make it?” There are three seconds left on the light, and even though it’s dark, illuminated in the lights of the other cars on the road, Hoseok can see Seokjin smirk.
“The question at hand is if they’ll make it.” The light turns yellow and Seokjin absolutely floors it as cars honk at him for his recklessness, but it works. The light turns red midway through the intersection and they lose the SUVs.
Hoseok releases a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, and he lets his shoulders relax as he leans back in the backseat, feeling utterly boneless.
“You relaxing there, sunshine?” Jimin asks, narrowing his eyes at Hoseok.
“As a matter of fact, I am. Does that bother you, sweetheart?” Hoseok bites back, glowering at him.
“Hate to burst your bubble—oh wait, not really—but we’ve still got company,” Jimin announces, wincing as he shifts his body to be able to look behind them.
“What do you mean? I thought we left his goons behind!” Namjoon exclaims, struggling against his seatbelt in his haste to confirm Jimin’s observations. “Shit.”
“We did lose his goons back there,” Jimin sighs, turning back to sit comfortably in his seat. “But those aren’t his nasty henchmen, that’s Yoongi.” Jimin looks down at his feet, a sad yet longing smile on his face, but he quickly schools his features back to his resting bitch face.
“How can you be so sure?” Seokjin asks, frantic.
“I’d recognize his stupid car anywhere,” Jimin mutters. “He bought it for me for our… anniversary, but I told him I didn’t want it. I was fine just by being at his side,” he whispers, wincing as his arm hits the window of the car again. “Can you be any more reckless with your driving?” Jimin seethes, “My god you’re worse than Yoon—” He stops himself before finishing his sentence, noticing the weird glance Seokjin throws him through the rearview mirror.
“I acknowledge what you did back there, Park,” Seokjin starts slowly, wary of Jimin’s reaction, “but you’re not a Min by name anymore. You’re just Park Jimin. An agent on a mission. Getting into Min Yoongi’s mind must have taken a toll on you as well, I can’t imagine having to walk on glass around him and being careful of the media—”
A sudden movement makes Seokjin slam heavily on the breaks, colliding with the vehicle that had swerved in front of them. Hoseok wouldn’t say this was a serious collision, but he tightens his grip on the gun he’d been given earlier that night, the one he hadn’t let go of yet since the club, and feels himself smack into the passenger's seat. Jimin yelps, crying out in pain as he plows into the back of Seokjin’s seat with his injured side taking most of the damage.
“What the fuck was that?” Namjoon hisses, clutching at his cheek, and it’s then that they notice that although the airbags had minimized some of the damage, the car was still filled with the shattered glass of the windscreen of the front of the car.
“Shit, did all of the glass shatter?” Hoseok asks, a little uneasy after colliding with the back of Namjoon’s seat. He unbuckles his seatbelt and moves to take a better look at Namjoon and Seokjin. “Dude are you okay? You’re bleeding,” he says, sweeping Namjoon’s bangs out of his eyes so that he can take a better look at the damage.
Namjoon swats at his arms, nodding in Seokjin’s direction. “I’m fine, but check on hyung, he’s not responding.”
Hoseok comes back to his senses and notices that Namjoon’s right. Seokjin is out cold, arms limp at his sides as his head rests in that weird gap between the headrest of the car and the seatbelt.
“Shit, what the fuck do I do?” Hoseok panics, unbuckling Seokjin’s seatbelt.
“We need to get out of here,” Jimin says, unbuckling his own seatbelt. “I’m willing to bet Yoongi did that on purpose. Hurry up, we’re wasting time.”
“How are we going to get out of here unscathed while you’re injured and hyung is unconscious?” Namjoon asks, faulting Jimin.
“We don’t have time to figure it out. Hurry, take his gun, and stay behind the car door.” Jimin slams the door of the car open and crouches behind it, poking his head out just enough to check that the coast is clear. Namjoon and Hoseok follow suit, dragging Seokjin’s limp (and heavy) body with them. They manage to drag him out of the car just fine, but hauling his body across the street and hopefully to a safe location seems mad.
As Hoseok hastily looks around, he notices just how much smoke the collision had caused. Up ahead, he can see where the recoil of the crash had thrown the offending car, a small fire igniting the night, visible from the growing haze.
As soon as Hoseok peeks his head out from behind the door, a cascade of bullets hit the hood.
“What the fuck,” he hisses, cowering back behind the door.
“Park!” Comes the distant shout of a man. “Come out from whatever place or person you’re hiding behind.”
“That’s one of Yoongi’s father’s goons,” Jimin whispers, meeting eyes with Hoseok through the interior of the car.
“What are we doing to do?”
“He doesn’t seem to be close, maybe we can make a run for it?”
“We can’t, Seokjin will slow us down. We are not leaving him behind.”
“Sacrifices have to be made in tough situations,” Jimin mutters. "That's one of the first things they teach you in the academy," he says with the roll of his eyes, as if the technicality rules out whatever affection Namjoon and Hoseok hold for Seokjin.
“Jimin!” Said man perks up at the call of his name, his face visibly relaxing at the voice of a young man Hoseok can only assume to be Min Yoongi. He doesn’t sound angry, Hoseok notices, more worried than anything. “Honey, stop playing these games and come back home!”
When Hoseok looks over to Jimin, he sees the younger bite his plump lips, eyes longing and fists tightening as his nails dig into his palms. He looks like he’s in pain, struggling not to comply with Min Yoongi’s request, holding himself back from making a run for it and jumping into the man's arms.
“You can’t escape from me, Jimin!” Min Yoongi’s voice calls out again, louder as he approaches them slowly. They don’t have enough time. “No matter where you are, I will find you!”
Hoseok bites his lip, feeling the flesh becoming raw, as he worries over what to do. He’s been in situations in which his life has been at risk, but never has he been this close to Death’s door.
There are moans coming from Seokjin, who has slowly started to regain consciousness, and Hoseok lets out a sigh of relief, trying his best to crawl over to him and Namjoon.
“Hyung,” he whispers, leaning over Namjoon’s shoulder to see Seokjin blink his brown eyes open, blood patterning his face. “Make sure to stay awake, we need to make a run for it—”
“There’s no need,” Jimin interrupts, standing up quickly and making his way over to the trio of spies, rounding the back of the car casually. Hoseok can feel Namjoon’s body tense as Hoseok only sees red.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Hoseok snarls, dragging Jimin down to his eye level, crouched down on the asphalt.
“Standing, what does it look like, sunshine?” Jimin rolls his eyes at him. “Now hurry up, we only have a few minutes before Yoongi realizes what’s going on.” He clutches onto Hoseok’s arm and lifts him up, gesturing for Namjoon to do the same with Seokjin. “We can hoof it to a twenty-four-hour pharmacy just a few blocks down from the intersection.”
Jimin leaps into the middle of the street, escaping the haze that had slowly begun to clear out, zigzagging through the small crowd that has started to form around the wreckage. He doesn’t let go of Hoseok, which makes something nasty bloom in the pits of his stomach, although the overall sick feeling he feels dousing his body could be the shock he had received with the impact of the crash.
He turns around to see that Namjoon and Seokjin aren’t that far behind them, although Namjoon does struggle with the amount of weight the older has to put on him.
Hoseok has so many questions for Jimin, inquiries he’s sure the younger will deflect.
~*~
“Fuck,” Jimin hisses as Seokjin passes the needle through his skin in an effort to get the wound to close. They’d stopped by the Walgreens Jimin had mentioned to buy medical supplies such as gauze, medical tape, disinfectant wipes, and other things they’d need to help with not only the bullet wound, but also Seokjin’s injuries and whatever scratches and bruises Namjoon and Hoseok may have donned from the crash.
Now, they’re in what Hoseok assumes to be Seokjin’s rented apartment for the duration of the mission. They’re all crammed into the average-sized bathroom. Jimin is sitting, shirtless, on the sink counter, swinging his legs in reaction to the pain, as Seokjin stands before him, urging him to stay still because he has a needle in his hand. Namjoon is sitting on top of the closed toilet seat, scrolling through his phone displaying articles on what Hoseok hopes have to do with the aftercare of a bullet wound.
“Jimin-ssi, for the last time, stay fucking still!” Seokjin snaps as he takes another disinfectant wipe just in case Jimin manages to open up the stitches that are so far adorning his body with all of his thrashing and wriggling.
“For someone who passed out after crashing his car, you sure are a chipper piece of ass for doting on my small prick of a wound,” Jimin sarcastically drawls, flinching when Seokjin unremorsefully pierces the younger’s arm.
“Shut up before I give you a nipple piercing,” Seokjin mutters, going back to work to tend the bullet wound. Jimin tenses, and after a few seconds he tries to maneuver his other arm in front of his chest, specifically around the nipple area. Seokjin notices and wheezes as he deduces why Jimin’s all of a sudden gotten shy and red in the face. “Don’t tell me my snide comment made your nipples hard!” Seokjin cackles as Jimin huffs, pushing Seokjin away half-heartedly so as to not disturb his task.
“Who knew Park was such an exhibitionist,” Hoseok comments, raising his gaze to meet Jimin’s furious face looking right back at him.
“Almost done, stay still,” Seokjin instructs as Jimin exhales profoundly. Seokjin cuts the thread and pats Jimin’s good shoulder, saying, “Alright bud, all patched up.”
“Thanks,” Jimin replies, hopping off of the counter and exiting the bathroom. The others soon follow him, winding up in the open kitchen, overlooking the front door and living room.
“Seokjin-ssi, like, no offense, but why is your fridge empty?” Jimin calls from the kitchen, slamming the fridge door closed as he drapes himself over one of the couches in the living room, a bored expression on his face.
“For starters, I haven’t been here for long. Besides I’ve just ordered take out whenever I’m hungry,” Seokjin replies, taking residence in one of the leather armchairs tucked away in the corner of the room.
“That’s so inconvenient you see because now I’m, like, super extremely hungry,” Jimin moans, rubbing at his stomach. “So hungry that I could practically eat all three of you and still have room for more.” He whines as his stomach audibly growls, echoing throughout the quiet living room.
“Go ahead, I bet you wouldn’t even get within three feet of me without me whooping your ass,” Hoseok retorts, rolling his eyes as Jimin glares at him.
“I so could!” Jimin complains, sitting up quickly from where he had been previously lying on.
“Sure you can,” Hoseok snickers, yelping when Jimin abruptly stands up and pounces at him, tackling him to the floor, straddling his hips as he pins his arms to the ground above him with his uninjured hand. “What the fuck? Let me go!” Hoseok yells, trying to push Jimin off only to have the shorter lay more of his weight on the older.
“What was it that you were saying?” Jimin smirks down at him, gloating over this victory. Hoseok continues to thrash beneath him until Jimin decides his shoulder has had enough and he lets Hoseok go, standing up slowly and heading back to the couch he had claimed.
Seokjin and Namjoon exchange looks as Hoseok tries to quickly pull down his sweatshirt to cover his crotch.
“As entertaining as I’m sure that was,” Seokjin begins, clearing his throat to get everyone’s attention, “I’d like to tell you both,” he looks over at Hoseok and Jimin, “that for your next mission you’ll have to get along.”
Jimin sighs but nods his head in defeat as Hoseok’s eyes go wide, shocked.
“What do you mean I ‘have to get along with him’?” Hoseok inquires, exasperated, as he walks over on shaking legs, kneeling next to where Seokjin looks down at him from the comfort of his armchair. “Hyung, you know I can’t get along with a person like him! He’s annoying and draws too much attention to himself!”
Seokjin looks sadly down at Hoseok, nodding, encouraging him to go on, allowing him to rant, lending him an ear to listen to whatever is on his mind. Hoseok has always been thankful for that.
“You can’t possibly expect me to get along with Park Jimin! I’ve literally only known him for less than three hours and I can already tell that we’re a dysfunctional pair. For fuck’s sake hyung, he got shot a mere few feet away from me! What if I get shot next time one of Min’s goons comes after him? Ah, don’t forget that Min Yoongi is still hung up on getting him back, what if I get mixed up in their drama—”
Seokjin stops him as he runs his hand through Hoseok’s hair, easing him. “All of what you said is true, especially the Min Yoongi part,” he begins, looking down with soft yet annoyed eyes, “Jimin knows Yoongi better than anybody, which is why you need each other to complete the mission.”
Seokjin stands up and takes hold of Hoseok’s hand, leading him to the kitchen. He pulls open the drawer full of utensils and pulls out a sharp-looking knife, turning back to Hoseok with a small, sad smile. “Regardless of if you want to or not, you’re going to be involved in their relationship. Your mission is to honeypot Yoongi,” Seokjin says, not giving Hoseok any warning before he grips the knife tightly and slashes at Hoseok’s face, pain pooling into his body as he cripples to the floor in a small pool of his own blood