Chapter Text
"There's someone that would like to speak to you on the line, Mr Kim."
Namjoon hummed in response, head peeking out from behind the expansion piston. The engine had been acting up lately. Spending the entire day finding the cause for the lagging motion of the pistons wasn’t necessarily his favourite pastime, but who else would do it really? He was the best the team had for such things.
"It's, sir It's important please-"
"Aha! See that William it was a problem with the expansion piston all along! Little guy has been creating such problems for so long. Ah don't look so unimpressed, you were saying?"
"Please head down, you have someone waiting patiently on the line."
Namjoon rubbed the sweat off his cheek and forehead, "who's the caller?" He felt a bead of sweat run down his neck, making him shiver. A shower sounded like paradise. "I'm sure they could call after my workshop hours, no?"
"It's a lord."
Namjoon felt as if a pebble got stuck between cogwheels somewhere in his brain, body stopping mid motion. "I see… I'll get to it right away. Thanks, William."
It wasn’t necessarily uncommon for Namjoon to receive requests and commissions from aristocats, he did mainly work with high-end services after all. But it was... atypical almost, for an aristocrat, a lord at that, to come into contact with him directly. It could be that it was a political scheme and they meant to keep it as private business. Politics were not so clean after all.
Namjoon was sure it wouldn't bring too much trouble. He read various texts and scripts regarding legal law. He only ever carried out tasks under contracts, it was simply the fault of the commissioner if any illegal activities correlated to the work.
At least that's how he interpreted the copies of documents - call him naive for such thinking.
He felt uneasy heading for the reception and one moment he had just managed to close the door behind him and the next he was grabbed by the arm and urgently nudged forward towards the phone, handset placed right into his hand. He started sweating again, hands stiff like when you play with snow for too long..
“...Hello?”
The voice came out static which made it hard to hear, the batteries must be a little weak, “Kim Namjoon?”
“This is him speaking, how may I assist you sir?”
“Well,” he laughed, “I have quite the commision for you this time around.”
Namjoon recognised the voice, mind whirling as he connected who it belonged to, “Ah, Seokjin? Kim Seokjin?”
More laughter, “Who else would it be! It is me in full glory. You’re in America right now, correct? I'm pleased you have the same contact number. Anyway, care to meet with me? I doubt that I will take too much of your time.”
“Right now?”
“Why yes, now. It’s not a matter to speak of over the phone.”
“Well, only because I’m in your debt will I find the time. You sent a driver like always I assume?”
“You still know me so well Namjoonie." Seokjin teased, "I would have thought you would forget such details about me, how sweet you are.”
“Stop with the flattery, it will get you nowhere.”
“I’ll see you soon! Farewell dar-ling.”
Namjoon sighed as the call disconnected. What a mysterious person Kim Seokjin was, Before Namjoon had relocated, Seokjin would call to either tease him relentlessly or propose all sorts of business. Paperwork, aircrafts, translations, engineering and service work... personal requests too - certain activities that maybe Namjoon was quite private of, but he wouldn’t deny the allegations that Kim Seokjin was indeed as foul mouthed in bed as he was working.
In his defence, it was simply a matter of long term stress and an intended one night stand with, at the time, a complete stranger.
To think a Lord would mingle amongst common people for such things.
He smiled sheepishly at the receptionist when making his way out of the building. It was a privilege of sorts to have so much flexibility with his working hours, as long as deadlines and standards were met to the customers expectations there was no problem. Now that he fixed the issue with the stirling engine all that was left was the damaged water tank on the left side of the aircraft, more for the use of the passengers and staff than to help the aircraft fly.
But those were issues to be left in the back of his mind for much later.
The moment he stepped out of the building a car pulled up. And really, Namjoon should have expected as much. Of course Seokjin is rich as lords tend to be, so quite obviously the technology and machinery they obtain is much more high end than anything you could possibly find on the public market.
In fact the car that had pulled up probably wasn't even on any seller's possession. With the design most likely inspired by art nouveau to cater to Seokjin's tastes, it was definitely created as a commission. A very expensive commission.
It was a wet dream to even gaze upon the thing.
Maybe he did drool slightly entering the passenger side, the driver politely opening it for him.
From the inside it was much simpler, obviously meant to impress spectators and maintain comfortability for passengers. Yet classy nonetheless.
The driver nodded at him through the rear-view mirror. Namjoon felt much more comfortable knowing Seokjin always kept the same driver no matter where he travelled to.
"Does he ever tire you out? Making you travel with him everywhere…"
The driver laughed humorlessly, "a little at times, don't tell him I said that," he shook his head quickly, "make yourself comfortable, Kim."
Namjoon would lie if he said that didn't hurt him a little. Lack of contact meant they weren't on a first name basis anymore, it was a little disheartening. At least they were on friendly enough terms. But Namjoon took his advice and made himself comfortable. He couldn't remember the last time he had so much leg room in a car. He also let himself indulge in the champagne options from famous retailers, kept in stock by Seokjin no doubt.
When had Seokjin become such a people pleaser to offer such goods to him? The rich definitely live without much inconvenience to offer such things.
When the car arrived Namjoon felt incredibly relieved. As enjoyable as wealth was, it had the incredible talent for making a man uncomfortable with its extravagances. Also, Namjoon had a suspicion. It wasn’t much of a conspiracy theory, but a theory nonetheless. If Seokjin was so eager to please him it could only mean whatever his request, it wasn’t work Namjoon would easily agree to.
Definitely dirty work he strived to stay away from. As cunning of a man as Kim Seokjin was, some requests would always be out of bounds.
But he was in debt to the guy still.
Namjoon walked into the restaurant building stiffly. It may be his overthinking of the whole situation but he already felt too exhausted with the possibilities. What was the worst case scenario? Murder? Namjoon had killed a fly once and spent the day depressed, and an incompetent murderer was undoubtedly useless.
A door to one of the private rooms was opened for him, the waiter eyeing him as he walked past. Well, it wasn't ideal to wear work clothes that often reeked of gasoline or that sour metallic taste you might feel on your tongue after sucking on a small wound. Namjoon also had many of those, the wounds, mainly on his hands.
He should be a little more attentive really.
"Namjoonie are you listening? I do admit my beauty might be quite stunning to a person, paralysing even! Do have a seat, we have much to discuss."
Namjoon shook his head, seating himself before finally daring to look at Seokjin.
He hadn't changed much at all. Hair still brown, eyes still grey and mischievous.
Smile still just as unsettling.
"Do you not get bored of these rants you do so often? Waste of a pretty face."
"You lack the art of flattery! I'm glad you haven't changed much. But small talk isn't so fitting right now.. as much as I'd love to flirt I’m afraid this is a little..”
“urgent?” Namjoon prompted.
“Well, you could say so. Maybe slightly more than urgent,” Seokjin sighed, swirling his glass of half drank wine. Namjoon was encouraged to order whatever he wished off the menu. It quickly became obvious he had no idea what half of the dishes were; as much as he wished to indulge in these riches, he’d rather go with the safer choice. Wouldn’t anyone? Stake was always the better option in these situations.
Once the waiter walked out, the door shut behind him, Seokjin sighed again whilst he placed the now empty glass down. “I need your help, Namjoon.” His tone dropped much lower, eyes serious. Namjoon only realised this whilst going over the conversation later in his mind, but he hadn’t seen Seokjin so serious before. He was always a free spirit, always eager to please and be pleased. But never had he looked sullenly at the world like the colour was vanishing from it.
Seokjin breathed in deeply before speaking, “The story is a little long, but I’ll sum it up for you,” he started, “My grandmother, and I’m sorry to be so blunt, however, you must notice my lack of energy on this topic. My grandmother is ill, ill in the sense that she hasn’t much longer to live.”
He stared at the table intently like it would show too much of his vulnerability to look up, Namjoon could only look at Seokjin with understanding. Maybe pity. “ And she has a request I wish to fulfill before her passing. You must help with it Namjoon.” He said this finally looking up at him and for a second, Namjoon felt a shudder pass down his spine. “You’ve worked alongside me before, I trust your knowledge and ability for machinery… specifically aircrafts.”
Namjoon nodded slowly, the waiter coming in and placing his food in front of him, refilling Seokjin’s glass of wine and filling Namjoon’s one per request. The room was silent until the waiter exited once again. Admittedly, he felt a little too nervous to eat. He forced himself to take a few bites. Before he dwelled on too many negative thoughts, Seokjin took the initiative to continue.
“You see Namjoon,” he brought the wine glass to his lips again, “My grandmother was quite the wanderer in her young days. A well respected adventurer even during those kinds of years. She met an artist, a painter to be more specific. His name was Chaim Soutine, I don’t expect you to be familiar with the world of art.” Namjoon held back the need to correct him, he’d argue that he was actually quite knowledgeable, a window to the soul he’d call it. In fact, he knew of the artist Seokjin was referring to, “He created a specific painting, one that had apparently struck a chord in the heart of my grandmother who remenises it so many years later.” Seokjin shifted forward, as if trying to avoid anyone else hearing what he would say next, “Landscape at Ceret is the name.”
Namjoon had seen a picture of the painting in passing, an agitating and frantic image of the force of nature. It did leave quite an impression on him when he saw it. Not enough to feel so enthusiastic about it, but impressed enough to remember the feelings it had created within him. Enough to remember it. And that’s what was the most impressive about it, the fact it made you remember it.
He nodded, “I’ve seen it, but what of this painting?”
Seokjin smiled slowly, as if the expression was creeping up on him unknowingly, “she’d like to see it, more specifically to be the owner of the painting before she passes. Before you ask dear Namjoon, the person that has bought the painting refuses to sell it to anybody. It’s a little troubling.”
“So,” Namjoon said after a little while, not realising the frown on his face, “What is it exactly that you’re asking from me? It’s a touching story, and I pity you both for the helplessness that looming death brings, but I still don’t see what I can do to help.”
“I don’t reckon you’ll pity me much after I explain your role in this. I want to steal the original painting.”
“...steal it?”
“Indeed, “ Seokjin nodded courtly, “Your role will be to help with stealing it, to be precise. You’ve the knowledge for the structure of aircrafts, specifically those designed for aristocrats that you often happen to work with. We’ll need you knowledge as a key component-”
“We? How many people have you dragged into this?”
Seokjin laughed heartily, “You’ll meet them in no time, the rest of the explaining I’ll leave to the one leading it all. I trust his experience as much as I trust yours.”
“You speak as if I agreed!” Namjoon raised his voice. In a way he felt himself become frantic at the idea of stealing. Where was the morale? He felt the carefully built calmness in his persona crack.
Seokjin nodded thoughtfully, “My mistake. You are right, you haven’t agreed yet. How about this, Kim Namjoon.” Seokjin smiled again. It was the type of smile a principal gave you when they knew you’d cave in into their demands because you had no other choice.
If only Namjoon hadn’t been in debt to him.
“I will arrange you to meet the leader of the operation and he’ll explain it all in more detail. And then tomorrow morning once you have spent some time exhausting your pretty little mind with pros and cons you’ll contact me with your decision. Sound fair?”
“How are you so sure I can afford the time to do such a thing right now?”
“I’m sure you will make time for me, won't you Namjoonie?” He flattered his eyelashes. To an outsider it might have been flirting, but to the two it was more of an underlying threat.
“I don’t really have a choice…” Namjoon sighed, “Who am I meeting exactly?”
Namjoon, in great honesty, expected something far more… extravagant.
Seokjin was enthusiastic about his little partner in crime, about his genius in the craft of forgery and knowledge that exceeded that of any master scientist. Of course there would come an assumption that a man of that nature would possess great wealth.
Yet here Namjoon entered a neighborhood that seemed much more ran down than anything Namjoon owned as a part time student back in London. The walls were grey and the door rough with splinters and chipped away pieces.
It was a sad excuse of a building pretending to be a house.
Unless he was in the wrong neighborhood?
He knocked twice and whatever noise that was coming from inside stilled. It took a minute for the door to come ajar in which he started to feel a little awkward. A mop of black hair peeked out, eyes staring up at him like a cat deciding if you were safe to approach.
"uh...hi?" Namjoon gave a small wave. He felt like sudden movements would scare the man.
"Are you here to fix the microwave?" He looked him up and down.
It wasn't a serious statement… probably. But Namjoon felt deeply offended by it nonetheless. He breathed in deeply, anger would get him nowhere. And as unthreatening as he looked, from what Seokjin claimed the little guy could throw him to the ground with one finger.
"No.. that's not what I-"
"Then you found the wrong house. Good day."
"Wait!" Namjoon reached out to hold the door open, the man's eyes widening for a second before he frowned. He looked… a little too docile. "I… Kim Seokjin sent me."
"Oh." The other stated simply, opening the door further and jerking his head to tell him to come in. A friendly invitation, as you can tell. "Can you still fix the microwave though? Took it apart to see what's wrong, still doesn't work. It's a pain in the ass."
Namjoon felt a bit stunned.
Maybe more than a little.
"You're a genius in advanced technology but you can't fix a microwave?"
"How sweet, you know I'm a genius. I really am aren't I? Glad you think so too."
"Seokjin's words not mine."
"Don't ruin my moment like that. And yes I can't fix the damn microwave. Who are you anyway?"
Namjoon has lived 20 years on this planet and never has he met someone as infuriating upon first meeting as the man before him that was currently leaning against a counter with a smirk on his face. He definitely thought he looked intimidating, or at least thought of himself superior; maybe a mix of the two. "Kim Namjoon. I know Seokjin talked about me don't be so uptight." He gritted through his teeth.
Yoongi huffed out a laugh, arms across his chest, "Uptight? Says the man who walks like he has a thong stuck up his ass, don't be so confident now. But whatever, sure, he did mention you."
Namjoon wanted to throw the man to the ground. Maybe throw out his coffee machine in the process, smash it right through the window. He made a note in his mind to live out that scenario later. It was a wonderful management for stress if you asked him.
"Just- fucking hell just introduce yourself and tell me the job I don't have time for your childishness."
"Boo hoo look, the drama queen finally quieted down. I'm Min Yoongi, very not nice to meet you. Have a seat over there. I doubt you'll want to stand for this one."
Namjoon hates that Yoongi was right. If he had been standing he'd probably tumble to the ground from the mere explanation of the plan.
Yoongi had a few connections here and there and found that the painting would be showcased in France for a weekend. A month after, the owner of it was taking it with him to Belarus where it was painted. Which means they had slightly over a month for.. well, stealing it unnoticed.
"Alright I understand that… but why am I here then? It sounds like you know what you're doing."
"Oh I do thanks for noticing! But, unfortunately, I need your knowledge with aircrafts, just in case your little brain hasn't processed what Seokjin explained already."
Namjoon balled his hands into fists, "just explain it in more detail."
"Do I get a please from the princess?"
"No." Namjoon narrowed his eyes. His patience was starting to run thin.
"Fine fine. Thing is, firstly we have to get to France, and there's quite a bit of tech I need to transport that definitely isn't allowed on the borders, that's where you come in. Secondly, you'd help with the blue prints for whatever aircraft the painting will be transported in after that month following the showcase." Yoongi said, starting to temper with the pocket watch that was clipped to his belt.
He continued, "Don't look so sceptical, we have a short time period but we should manage to create a replica somehow. My… the person I hired might have to paint with no breaks and that's already daunting as is. Anyway, that should sum up most of the work."
Namjoon nodded slowly, processing the information.
He wasn't so sure on doing this.
He wasn't so keen on stealing and forgery. Not that it was wrong in the eyes of law, but just that it was a dilemma morally. Who was he to strip someone of something they thought was authentic? Not to mention, he wasn't so keen on seeing Yoongi again, and definitely not everyday.
"You seem hesitant." Yoongi stated, now with the pocket watch in his palm and fiddling with the handles of the clock.
"Well of course, it's not everyday you get offered work with a conman."
"Conmen to be more precise."
"Are they all as Ill mannered as you?"
"Maybe or maybe not but I prefer them to a pipsqueak like you. Actually, you seem like quite the government dog. Does the illegal side of business make you run with a tail between your legs?". He asked sarcastically.
"I care for no such thing. You call me a dog of the government yet work for Seokjin? Hypocritical isn't it." Namjoon stood up, rolling his eyes not so subtly.
"That's none of your concern." Yoongi bit back, a sneer on his face, "So, are you working with us or not?"
"I need time to think this through." Namjoon stated, starting to make his way back to the entrance. He heard Yoongi mutter in frustration as he walked out.