Work Text:
“What the actual fuck?”
Namjoon sighs, clicks his pen to scrawl down some things in his book. 11th April, Concord Hotel. “Yoongi, listen, it’s not the first threat on your life, why are you over—“
“I’m not overreacting!”
Namjoon winces at the high-pitched tone that his friend’s voice suddenly took on the end of the line. He closes his book, leans back in his chair to stare at the ceiling. It isn’t the first time Yoongi had flipped out over a threat, but again, Yoongi either never reacts, or just overreacts. Namjoon had known him since they were little kids, having met in private school where Yoongi was an obnoxious rich brat, just like the other ninety-nine percent of the school population.
Yoongi had reacted to pop-quizzes and unexpected tests this way back then, and now he reacts to threats on his life the same way. He hasn’t really changed, Namjoon hasn’t really expected him to, and so here they are, Yoongi screaming into his ear because of some threatening emails.
“Yoongi-hyun, you gotta calm down,” he sighs, setting his elbows on his table, “it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before, remember?”
“For fuck’s sake, Joon!” Yoongi’s obviously panicking on the other side of the line, and Namjoon flinches as he hears a stack of paper drop on the other end, “I don’t care, just, just deal with it! I can’t, I have a board meeting in fifteen minutes and I have no idea what it is about—“
“Okay, okay,” he sighs. There’s no point talking to Yoongi when he was in this state of panic, “go take your meeting, leave this to me, okay?”
He’s met with harsh beep of the dial tone ringing in his ear, signalling that his best friend has hung up on him in favour of work. Namjoon rolls his eyes, shaking his head before reaching for the whiskey sitting in the corner of his desk and opening his laptop.
Right, time to do some work to find out who these emails came from.
--
It’s past two in the morning when Namjoon’s shrill ringtone rings through his empty apartment, startling him from where he had dozed off at his desk. He wipes the drool off his jaw, fights through the papers on his desk for his phone, and winces at the battery level before accepting the call.
“Yoongi-hyung, hello.”
“So, who’s trying to kill me this time?”
Yoongi sounds more collected this time, and Namjoon imagines him in his penthouse, looking down over a city sipping on a wine that probably cost more than Namjoon’s entire apartment. He wipes his face down, clicks up a few tabs, and coughs sheepishly before scanning the documents that he has found quickly.
“My guess is NEURON, I traced the IP address to somewhere well inside their territory, like, headquarter territory. And I’ve narrowed down the number of hitmen that they are possibly sending after you, but knowing NEURON, they have pride in individual kills. So, it’s most likely one, yeah.”
Yoongi hums, his glass clinking gently with the sound, and Namjoon swirls the last of the whiskey in his own cup. “One right? Can you take care of it?”
“Absolutely,” Namjoon straightens up, clicks through the different tabs, furrowing his brows, “I don’t think there’s any point in killing them though, just a good scare, and it should be fine.”
“Namjoon, you know as much as I prefer just eliminating them,” Yoongi sighs, and there is a pause there. Namjoon waits, clicking through all the tabs, knowing that the older man would appreciate the small silence. “I trust you, Joon-ah, your call.”
“I’ll make sure that you won’t be harmed, okay,” Namjoon promises, feeling his heart clench at the waver in the older man’s voice. Yoongi had always been confident, bordering on the point where it seemed like he didn’t care much, but Namjoon knew better. The main reason that Yoongi had not wanted to take over his dad’s company was because he always feared for his life, and this fear had followed him up till today.
“I know, Joon, I know,” Yoongi’s voice is soft, and Namjoon feels his stomach stir at the vulnerable crack in his best friend’s voice, “I trust you, Joon. Don’t ever forget that, okay?”
“Yes, I know,” Namjoon promises quietly, his eyes following a line on his computer, “hey, hyung, go to bed yeah? I’ll update you tomorrow, I think I’ve found something.”
Yoongi takes a large gulp of whatever he’s drinking before humming in confirmation. Namjoon hears him click off, pulls his phone away from his ear, and sets it down before turning his attention back to the document in front of him.
Former Police Captain. Speciality: Undercover Operations.
Namjoon scrolls up, clicks his tongue at the lack of picture provided. Well, it was going to be hard sniffing out this little weasel. He drags his cursor across the code name, exhales deeply at the six characters printed neatly at the top of the information document.
J-Hope.
--
“Yo, Yoongles.”
Yoongi huffs, pulling his face mask even higher on his face, ducking his head while pretending that he didn’t hear the greeting. He gropes in his pocket for his phone, thumbs at the volume-up button to turn up the Epik High playing from his earbuds.
“Yoongs, please.”
The earbuds are rudely ripped out of his ears, silence ringing in them as an arm is slung roughly around his shoulders and a chin knocks into the side of his head. He squirms, hand automatically reaching for the thin white wires of his earbuds, as he scrambles to keep all the files intact in his other arm while attempting to fight off his assailant at the same time.
“Oh my god, will you fucking leave me alone, Jung Hoseok?”
Hoseok laughs, obnoxiously loud in Yoongi’s ear, but hands the CEO back his earbuds and lifting his hands up in a gesture of surrender. Yoongi glares at him, tugs up his mask again, and half-walks-half-runs towards the elevator in an attempt at throwing his Chief Finance Officer off his tail.
He rolls his eyes as Hoseok sneaks in beside him in the elevator, the disgustingly wide grin still on his face. “Fuck off,” he snaps, stuffing his earbuds in his pocket, pulling his phone out instead to check on his messages. Beside him, the smiley annoyance only laughs, jabs the button for their floor and turns back around to look at him.
“Fuck off,” Hoseok echoes his words in a disgustingly high-pitched voice, his finger tapping an inconstant rhythm on the metal bar of the elevator, “don’t think you’re supposed to talk to your CFO like that, babe.”
Yoongi swipes at him, stumbling over his feet before digging through his pockets for his access card. He stills as he hears the beep unlocking the door, feeling the heat rush to his cheeks as the CFO smugly nods towards the open door.
“After you, Yoongles.”
Yoongi sniffs, straightens his back, and walks stiffly into his office, ignoring the high-pitched squeals of laugher echoing off the pristine walls behind him.
--
“Hope, you there?”
Hoseok kicks the door of his office shut behind him, phone glued in between his shoulder and his ear. “Yeah, anything happening over there Tae?”
He can hear the pout in the whine on the side of the line as the younger man shifts some things around, “Hyung, you know my codename is V, they finally gave me a code name. Won’t you actually entertain me and use it for once?”
“Nope,” Hoseok pops the “p” sound, picks up the binder containing all the documents needed today, “never. So, any news Taetae? Is there a reason why you’re calling me even before I had my morning coffee yet?”
“Hyung,” Taehyung’s exasperation is evident in his voice even over the line, and Hoseok bites down a laugh, “you don’t even drink coffee, stop teasing me like this.”
“Right, right,” he tempers down his laughter, carefully watching the co-workers mill outside his office though the glass windows, “what’s the news?”
“Someone’s trying to kill Yoongi-hyung,” Hoseok sucks in a sharp breath, reaches for his tumbler of tea on his desk, “again, yes I know. And according to my research, they are from Jeon Models.”
Jeon Models. Hoseok scrubs his hand down his face, curls his fingers into a fist. Of course, it had to be Jeon Models; they were the only ones competing with Min Management in terms of representing high fashion models in South Korea. They were also the only ones who knew that Min Management and its fate rested on the broad shoulders of one man, who had single-handedly raised his father’s company from the ruins of debt.
“Jeon Models, huh?” Hoseok mutters, “Any idea who is behind this?”
“Nope,” Taehyung’s voice is sharp and cold now, no trace of the pouty child left, “to be really honest, I don’t think Jeon Jungkook has the experience to attempt something like this. Not to mention, he has a good relationship with Yoongi-hyung.”
Hoseok inhales, sinking his teeth into his lower lip. “And we know most likely who they are going to use for this,” there is more clicking on Taehyung’s end, “you know it, it’s the easiest way to get at Yoongi-hyung honestly.”
“RM Security,” Hoseok mutters, crumpling an outdated memo in his hand. Goddamnit, these people just wouldn’t leave him and Yoongi-hyung alone, would they? “Fuck, they are so dirty.”
There is a knock on the door, and Hoseok looks up to see his secretary peeking in. “Meeting at Conference Room 7 in five, Mr Jung,” she reminds him timidly, her phone clutched tightly in her fingers, the concealer under her right eye slightly smudged.
“Thank you, Haein,” he replies, smiling kindly at her as she retreats out of his office. He needs to get her a coffee, he reminds himself, scribbling it down on a post-it pad before grabbing his binder. “Hey, Tae? You still there?”
“Still here,” Tae responds, the clacking of the keyboard loud on his eyes, “get to work, Hope. I’ll send you the details. Make sure you check the correct email.”
Hoseok’s met with the dial tone of the other end and he simply laughs before sliding his phone into his breast pocket. Taehyung always takes work seriously, a bit too seriously sometimes, and Hoseok knows it best when the younger hacker is in his zone. He checks himself in the reflection of the glass window, smooths back his hair and takes a deep breath.
Well, time to get to work.
--
Namjoon shoves a handful of chips in his mouth, not taking his eyes off the screen. Startled out of his concentration zone by the shrill ring of his phone, he scrambles to find it in the mess of his desk, papers and pens flying to his floor in a flurry. Finally, his fingers close around the slim silver device, haphazardly pressing at the screen to pick up the call.
“Hello?”
“RM? Got that info you wanted.”
“Oh,” Namjoon straightens up, “hey there Mochi, didn’t expect to hear back from you so fast.”
A giggle from the other end has Namjoon flushing on the side of his call. Memories of brown hair, a laugh that rang like bells, soft cheeks squished into his pillows and his entire bed smelling of lavender. He shakes his head, pinches his nose.
Focus, Namjoon, focus.
“No need to be so formal, Joonie-ah,” Park Jimin’s voice is soothing, filling up the anxiety cracks in Namjoon’s mind, “we’re not enemies, just exes. And I’m still your hacker.”
“Right,” Namjoon swallows, shaking his head a bit to clear his mind, “so, what do you have?”
“I found your mystery assassin,” Jimin replies, the faintest sounds of IU’s newest song playing in the background, tinny over the line, “I’m sending the file over now, he has a very interesting background for sure.”
Namjoon taps a fingernail against the plastic of his laptop, scratches at a stain left right under his keyboard, “what do you mean ‘interesting?”
Jimin lets out a “mhmm”, the sound of his mouse clicking loudly in the background, “you’ll see, Joonie, you’ll see. This information was very hard to get, this person wanted this part of his past to stay hidden.”
“Well, you found it,” Namjoon grins, opening his email in a new tab, “you did it again, Jimin-ah.”
There is a soft laugh from the other end of the line, and Namjoon is suddenly reminded of early mornings smelling of pancakes and honey, lightly burnt butter on the stove, and plush lips waking him up. He blinks away the remnants of the past, moves his cursor to the file attached in Jimin’s email, and lightly taps on the touchpad to get it to download.
“Who do you think I am, Joonie-ah,” and Namjoon feels the familiar clogging of his throat, the familiar butterflies in his stomach, “see you around Joonie, payment in seven days, remember.”
He puts down the phone, watches the new file blink on his desktop, signalling that the download has completed. Two years, two whole years since Park Jimin had broken up with him, and Namjoon is still hung up on the smiley boy with puffy cheeks.
Still your hacker. Namjoon thinks idly. We used to be so much more.
--
The document is done, printed out on Namjoon’s desk, and the original email and document deleted from the cloud and his computer. Namjoon himself is on his bed, a glass of hot chocolate pressed to his lips, his mind filled with the contents of the document.
Jung Hoseok, former police captain, specialising in undercover operations, especially known for infiltrating and bringing down the infamous HOMME gang. Well, it was a bit of an irony now, since he was with NEURON, a freelance crew who dealt in cash, information, and lives.
No mentions of being an assassin, Jimin had typed neatly in the margins, mainly deals with undercover operations, but he is trained in combat.
Jimin, as usual, had lived up to his hacker brand, and had enclosed certain photos capturing Jung Hoseok. Grainy, probably taken from security cameras around the city, but there was one photo that Jimin had enclosed, with a tiny smiley face drawn in the corner of the photo, that showed the man in his police uniform looking directly at the camera.
Jimin still knows him too well, and Namjoon hates it a bit. Just a little bit.
Jung Hoseok is good-looking. Heck, ‘good-looking’ is a bit of an understatement, at least in Namjoon’s opinion. A heart shaped face, bright eyes, with cute dimples on each side, with black hair falling into his eyes. He’s cute, Namjoon thinks to himself, very cute.
And he was dangerous, that was for sure. And for some reason, Namjoon still found it charming; just like how he found Jimin charming despite his deadly skills that had taken down a whole government through its data. Single-handedly. Park Jimin is a threat through and through, and Jung Hoseok looks exactly like that, except that he is trained in combat, and could probably smash Namjoon through a window with one hand.
His phone rings shrilly in the background. He sets the half-empty cup down on the table, puts his phone to his ear. “Yoongi-hyung.”
“So, who’s trying to kill me?”
Namjoon inhales once, exhales out. “About that, I don’t think you need to know. I’ll take care of it.”
Yoongi clicks his tongue, the sound sharp over the line. “Joon, what are you hiding?”
“Nothing,” Namjoon shifts his position on the bed, “hey, I’ll drop by work to talk to you about this tomorrow, is that okay? Any appointments, meetings?”
“Nothing,” Yoongi echoes back at him through the line, the bite clear in his tone, “why in person though? You barely come to visit me.”
“Awh, missed me, hyung?” Namjoon quips back, pushing himself off his bed and opening his closet, scanning the row of suits neatly hung up, “I just think you might see the information for yourself, that’s all. Jimin did a good job, as usual.”
Yoongi’s teeth clack together, and Namjoon knows that he has given up questioning for now. “Ten o’clock, Joon. If you’re late, you go, you know the drill.”
“Thank you, hyung,” Namjoon sighs, wipes his hand down his face, “I’ll see you there.”
--
A new day of work means a new day of dealing with desperate, eager underlings to Jung Hoseok. It isn’t anything new; he has done it time and time again while being the captain of a whole police precinct, with beat cops wanting to be detectives, detectives wanting to be sergeants, and sergeants desperately wanting to be a captain just like him. It’s the same here in the Min Management; interns wanting to be permanent staff, underlings wanting to be managers, managers wanting to sit on the executive boards, and many pairs of eyes on his private office with the small metal plate on his door.
Chief Finance Officer.
He hums, reaches for his lanyard hanging around his neck, coffee in his left hand. One cream, milk, no sugar. A habit he picked up when he was captain, and barely had to move around, and just didn’t require as much movement anymore. Old habits die hard.
As Hoseok reaches out with his lanyard to tap his access card at the pad, there is a hard shove on his back, and it is by pure reflex that he catches his balance. The coffee however, is now splattered all over the clear glass walls, the cup crushed under the foot of the person that had barrelled into him at the speed of a comet.
“Fuck. I’m so sorry!”
“No, it’s okay,” Hoseok blinks, registering the awkward position of his assailant; a shoulder pressed against the glass walls, one foot in the air. “Did the coffee get on anything? Need me to get you a new shirt? Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m fine,” the man shakes his head, pulls himself off the floor in a tangle of long limbs and fabric. “What about you? Fuck, I’m so sorry about crashing into you like that, I’m pretty sure that the carpet had a dent in it or something, fuck.”
Hoseok shakes his head, a smile creeping up his face as he takes in the handsome face of the stranger; long gangly limbs and torso attached to the smiley face nestled under the tuft of messy blonde hair, and Hoseok just feels his heart skip a beat.
“Jung Hoseok, CFO,” he offers a hand, eyes automatically traveling down the lean torso. Damnit, this man’s legs went on for miles, “and you are?”
He doesn’t miss the way the corner of the man’s eyes tighten before his hand is firmly grasped in a strong grip, long fingers smooth against the back of his hand. “Kim Namjoon,” Christ, the man has dimples, Hoseok has always been weak for those, “I’m here to see Yoongi-hyung. I’m a, uh, friend.”
“A friend,” Hoseok echoes, bobbing his head, “okay, sure. Yoongi-sshi’s office is this way. I’ll buzz you in, here.”
Namjoon smiles sheepishly, the dimples deep at the corners of his mouth, and Hoseok curses himself internally. The dimples again, fuck his life. He pushes open the door, gestures for the blonde to step forward before clicking his tongue at the receptionist.
“Get the cleaners to clear that up,” he nods towards the mess, “this man’s here to see the CEO. I’ll take care of him. This way please, Namjoon-sshi.”
“Thank you, Hoseok-sshi,” Hoseok doesn’t miss the tightness in the man’s voice, “how many years have you worked here, by the way?”
Hoseok blinks. “Five years,” he gestures down the corridor with his hand, “I’ve known Yoongi-hyung for about that time as well. You?”
Namjoon laughs, the sound makes Hoseok’s stomach flip a bit. “I’ve known him since high school, we went to the same one. I work for his security detail, maybe you’ve heard of us? RM?”
Uh oh. There’s always a catch when it comes to attractive men. Hoseok rolls his eyes internally; why couldn’t he be attracted to normal, good-looking men, who led normal, boring lives. Damnit, why was he just a magnet for dangerous guys, who might just be on the wrong side and against him?
“RM, huh?” the words are sticky in his mouth, glued to the sides of his throat, “yeah, I’ve heard of you. You have an excellent reputation that’s for sure.”
Kim Namjoon only smirks, the lopsided quirk making him even more attractive. “Yeah, and today, I got to make sure we live up to it. Gotta protect Yoongi-hyung just like he paid us to do it.”
Hoseok nods dumbly, his hands clammy with sweat. RM Security, the words on the file Taehyung sent flashes in his mind, and he steels his facial muscles to force out a genial smile as they come to a stop in front of Yoongi’s office.
“Right, we’re here,” he nods towards the door, watching Yoongi scribble down things on some documents on his desk. He taps on the door twice, watching the older man’s head shoot up at the knock on his door.
“Come in.”
“Yoongles!” Hoseok laughs heartily, eyes flickering over the confused look on his boss’ face momentarily, “I didn’t know you were expecting someone from security today?”
He watches Yoongi’s face relax, before lighting up in a small smile while looking over his shoulder. “Joon-ah!”
“Hyung,” the blonde man smiles back, settling himself in a seat opposite the CEO. It is evident from the look on the brunette’s face that he is thrilled to see Namjoon, and somehow the joy in his boss’ face irks Hoseok a bit more than it should have, triggering both personal and professional radars.
“I’ll guess, I’ll just uh, leave then?” the question lingers uncertainly in the air, and Hoseok finds himself wishing that he hadn’t said that.
“Yeah,” Yoongi waves him out, his knee jumping up in a nervous tick that Hoseok knows the older has whenever he’s overly excited about something, “help me check through the department financial statements. We need them at the meeting later.”
Hoseok nods, and he curses himself internally as he turns around and catches Kim Namjoon’s eye again. Unexpectedly, the blonde doesn’t look away, and Hoseok can practically taste the electricity of the tension on his tongue. It is a mixture of suspicion, attraction, and a lot of other layers that Hoseok’s mind doesn’t bother processing at the moment. Kim Namjoon is gorgeous, attractive, with amazing legs, and yet he also works for the company that Hoseok knows that might be a threat to Yoongi-hyung’s life.
Goddamnit, Hoseok. Focus.
“See you, Jung Hoseok.”
Hoseok hates that his heart actually flutters when Kim Namjoon wriggles his fingers at him in parting, one eyebrow arched playfully in a mischievous smirk. He nods stiffly, closes the door behind him, one hand already in his pocket even before marching down the corridor to his own office.
“Tae, I need you to hack into the security cameras in Yoongi’s hyung office. Now.”
--
The door is barely closed before Namjoon is lounging over the desk, grasping Yoongi’s shoulders and getting all up in the CEO’s face.
“What. The. Fuck. Hyung.”
Yoongi blinks owlishly back at him, hands held up defensively in front of him. “What?”
“Hyung, that person,” he doesn’t even want to say the name, the same name burning a hole through the manila folder in his hands. “That person, his name, it’s on the file that Jimin gave to me.”
Yoongi glares at him, his eyebrows scrunched together. “No. No way, Hoseok is loyal to me and this company. There’s no fucking way he’s trying to kill me.”
“He was a cop, Yoongi-hyung. A very good one specialising in undercover operations,” Namjoon hisses at him, hands tight on the shorter man’s shoulder, “this is what he does, okay? He gains your trust, and then he flips the carpet right down from under you.”
“No, no, no. Namjoon, no,” Yoongi spits right back in his face, throwing Namjoon’s hands off his shoulders and forcing the taller man back into his seat. “I trust Hoseok. He manages my finances for fuck’s sake. He does not want to kill me.”
Namjoon scrubs both of his hands down his face. It’s a habit that he’s doing a lot frequently, he realises dimly at the back of his head. “Hyung, you do trust me, right?”
Yoongi exhales deeply, unclenches and clenches his fists once. “Yes, Joon, I do. But, seriously, Hoseok isn’t out to kill me, I swear to god. For fuck’s sake, this man can dance to all SISTAR’s songs. Perfectly.”
“Hyung,” Namjoon flips open the flap of the manila envelope, slides it over the desk right in front of the black-haired CEO, “read it yourself, take it all in. I’ll wait for a call, or a text. In the meantime, just be careful, okay?”
Yoongi nods, lips pressed tightly together, eyes locked on the file on the table. Namjoon bows slightly, sticks his hand in his pocket before twisting the door knob and letting himself out.
“Hey.”
Namjoon tenses up, barely visible to the naked eye, but the voice sends a shiver down his spine all the same. He already knew Jung Hoseok was going to be dangerous no matter what, but he certainly hadn’t expected the real thing to be just be positively lethal. He pushes down the tingling feelings in the bottom of his gut, smacks his lips once, and turns around to face the star of his nightmares.
“Hey, wasn’t expecting you to be out here.”
Jung Hoseok shrugs, his smile easy and relaxed. Fuck, it could rival the actual sun, Namjoon thinks inwardly. God, that smile is doing more things to his stomach now and it was totally unnecessary, thank you very much. “I do work here,” Hoseok grins, “I’m actually on the way to a meeting in a bit, but I thought I stop by and see if you were done.”
“Yeah, it’s nothing much honestly,” Namjoon’s heart is thrumming a little too fast. It’s either from adrenaline of facing down a foe or because of how handsome Jung Hoseok is, but his head is a mess right now and he doesn’t know which is the actual reason. Focus, Namjoon, focus. “Just some files, a little update. Yoongi-hyung is a busy person after all, and so are you.”
“I bet you’re a busy person too, aren’t you?” Hoseok taps the edge of the binder on Namjoon’s shoulder, his smile positively blinding, “it’s tough work being part of a security detail firm that also deals in much more, hmm?”
Namjoon feels the muscles in his face tense at the words. Oh, so Jung Hoseok knows what he’s playing at; that’s interesting. “Well, I must say, your background is so much more interesting than your job. It must have been hard, giving up undercover work and toting a gun to just sit around and manage finances? Wow, talk about a complete lifestyle change.”
Hoseok tilts his head to one side, his eyes never leaving Namjoon’s face, and one side of his mouth quirks up in a wide smirk. Namjoon hates it, hates how it makes his heart thump just a bit faster, hates how the smirk goes right to his groin. “It wasn’t that hard,” Hoseok’s still watching him closely, “I did have a Masters in finance before I decided to try for the police academy. That was the real complete lifestyle change if you ask me.”
“Huh,” Namjoon shifts his feet, careful not to break eye contact, “interesting. I never pegged you as someone who would join NEURON after an early departure with full honours from the police force though, isn’t that the real interesting part?”
Hoseok’s smile only gets wider. “Oh? You’ve done your research well, hm?”
Namjoon smirks back, elated that he has managed to illicit such a reaction. “Did you expect me not to?”
“Not really,” Hoseok pulls his binder back to his chest, nodding slightly, “impressive, Kim Namjoon. Impressive. I’m off to a meeting now, don’t spill any coffee on your way out. The poor cleaning lady’s been scrubbing at the carpet for a while now, don’t make her job harder.”
“Got you,” Namjoon replies easily, watching as the CFO saunters down the corridor smoothly, his eyes drawn to the way the tailored pants clung to shapely legs. Jung Hoseok was loaded for sure, and Namjoon was sure that it wasn’t just from his job, current or new.
Right, time to get a new cup of coffee, and do some surveillance on Jung Hoseok.
--
“He’s really your type, huh, hyung?”
Hoseok sighs, phone pressed to his ear, coffee lukewarm in his cup, documents in a mess all over his desk. “Stop that, Tae. It’s getting annoying listening to you babbling about how I am always attracted to the wrong guy. You have been doing it since we were five.”
“It’s not my fault, you have poor taste,” Taehyung chirps gleefully at the end of the other line, “remember when you were dating that one guy even before you went undercover? Wow, turns out he was the gangleader of the notorious BLOCK B crew who started putting the Piggy drug into the streets. Hyung, you’ve got a type: tall, dangerous, usually on the side against you.”
“Are you done, Kim Taehyung?”
“Nope,” Hoseok rolls his eyes at the childish behaviour of the younger hacker, “you should ask Kim Namjoon, a.k.a. RM, whether he has a background in rapping. Just like Zico.”
“I swear to god, Kim Taehy—oh,” Hoseok tilts his monitor, barely catching the glint again. “Okay, Tae, I think I need to go.”
Taehyung grumbles childishly at the end of the line, the same grumble that he used on Hoseok when they were five and he wanted more of the sour gummies that Hoseok still had. “Hyung, I didn’t mean anything by tha—“
“No, Tae,” Hoseok reaches under his desk, seeking the secret built-in compartment installed, fingers wrapping around the barrel of the handgun stashed there. “I need to go, I think Kim Namjoon is watching me on the building across the street, with a rifle.”
“Fuck,” Taehyung hisses, and Hoseok can hear him scrambling for his keyboard, “which building? I get security cameras and see if I can track him.”
“e.x.o. inc.,” replies Hoseok while sliding the gun carefully into his breast pocket, careful to keep himself angled away from the building, “I’m gonna go see him right now Tae. It’s time to see what he really wants from me, or from Yoongi-hyung. Better to end it now if you ask me.”
Taehyung sucks in a breath over the line, keys clacking hurriedly on the other end. “Yeah, he’s there, hyung. Walked past security half an hour ago. Careful, hyung. Keep your line on so that I can send help if you need any.”
“Thanks,” Hoseok inhales deeply, fixes his earpiece in place, “going in now.”
With one hand on the door, Hoseok pulls out his phone, pretending to check his screen. A strategic angle, and he catches the glint of sunlight off presumably a military grade rifle, just right at the corner of the top of the building. He pockets his phone and closes the door behind him.
“Haein, I’m going out for a bit,” he smiles at his secretary, aware of the gun pressed against the breast of his suit, “could you have Joohyuk go in and collect the files from my computer? He’ll take over the meeting later.”
“Of course, Mr Jung,” she smiles, “have a good day.”
--
“For fuck’s sake, Jimin, I don’t know okay, he’s really good looking.”
“Uh huh,” Jimin drones, “have you finally moved on from me, Joonie? I thought you would never ever do that.”
“Ha. Ha,” Namjoon intones drily, “very funny, Jimin. You were pretty much the only person I have dated since university. Of course, I have trouble moving on from that when you broke up with me on our five-year anniversary.”
“Oh, Joonie,” Jimin’s voice is soft, gentle, “I didn’t mean to do that, Joonie. But we weren’t going anywhere, and you know how much you hate that.”
Namjoon swallows. “Yeah,” he replied blankly, eyes trained on the speck of black that is Jung Hoseok, “it was for the best, honestly. I feel that way too.”
Jimin sighs, and Namjoon hears the creak of his chair in the background, the clicking of his mouse on the screen. “Shopping again, Jimin-ah? Are you that bored—oh.”
“Joon?” Jimin’s voice is sharp, the clicking gone, “you okay over there?”
“Jung Hoseok is leaving his office,” Namjoon adjusts his rifle, squints a bit, “I wonder why?”
“Do you wonder about a lot of things while you’re pointing rifles at someone’s office?”
Namjoon flips around, bringing the rifle in front of him reflexively. Jung Hoseok is standing in front of him, a pistol pointed right in front of him, the smirk no longer on his face as he stares the hitman down. “Hello, Kim Namjoon. Didn’t know you missed me so fast.”
“I should have known,” Namjoon hisses, his finger tightening around the trigger, “that wasn’t you, was it? It was someone who just looked like you, but that ass didn’t belong to you.”
“Looking at my ass now?” Hoseok replies drily, his gun hand never wavering, “well, you could have told me that you liked it. The view of yours looked pretty good too if you ask me.”
“Thank you for checking me out. Glad to know the attraction’s mutual,” Namjoon shoots back, pulling himself upright, but never letting go of his rifle, “but you know, I don’t sleep with people who want to kill Yoongi-hyung. He’s very, very important to me, and the fact that you’re right under his nose is such a real threat.”
Hoseok scoffs, takes one step closer. “Really? Coming from someone who claims to be part of his security detail, but in reality, trying to end his life? Goodness, what big words you speak, oh mister liar liar pants on fire.”
That gets Namjoon’s attention immediately. “Wait, what? You’re accusing me of trying to end Yoongi-hyung’s life? Seriously?”
“Aren’t you?” Hoseok steps closer, his eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. Namjoon hates that he finds it ridiculously attractive. “Wait, so you aren’t, trying to kill Yoongles?”
Now it’s Namjoon’s turn to scoff. “Yoongles, really? Why do you insist on calling him that, you know that he hates it right? And no, I’m not trying to kill Yoongi-hyung? I’ve been friends with him since high school, and it is my duty to protect him from people like you.”
“Wait, wait, wait. Hold up handsome, rewind for a bit,” Hoseok sighs, drops his head in surrender before holding up his gun. “Can we talk this over?”
Namjoon relaxes, pulls down his gun. “Coffee?”
The dangerous smirk makes its way back onto the CFO’s face as he clicks the safety of his gun back on and shoves it back into his suit. “Pack up your gun, and we can grab some coffee and maybe some cake, if that’s up your alley. We’ll call it a date too.”
Namjoon feels the heat rush to his cheeks. He meekly nods, hands already unscrewing his rifle apart. “Guess I have no objections if you’re willing to call this a date, handsome.”
“Um, Joonie,” Jimin’s voice in his ear startles him, “I’m still here, yknow.”
“Shut up.”
Namjoon blinks at the uncanny coincidence of their words, watching as Hoseok pivots back on his ankle to stare back at him. He feels the laughter bubble out of him as the other man starts chuckling, Hoseok’s eyes screwed up from the effort, his laughter infectious.
“Hey Jimin-ah,” he manages through the breathlessness, grasping the hand Hoseok offers to him to pull him up, grinning stupidly as he knocks shoulders with the shorter man, “I’ll call you back, yeah?”
“Hackers, yeah?” Hoseok laughs, a thumb rubbing over the back of Namjoon’s hand and it makes little fireworks go off in his stomach, “yeah, mine just told me to stop flirting just now because I still had him on the line.”
Namjoon just smiles back, glances down on their conjoined hands and back to Jung Hoseok’s beautiful smile. He hasn’t laughed this freely in a while, not since he had been with Jimin.
“Yeah,” he picks up his rifle case with the other hand, “let’s talk about it over coffee, yeah?”
--
“So, nobody is trying to kill me?”
Yoongi glares over the top of his Kumanon mask at the two men sitting in front of his desk. Kim Namjoon and Jung Hoseok are both there, one dressed in a nice suit, the other dressed in a polo tee and jeans; but both equally annoying and both were currently getting in the way of him and the contracts on his desk that needed to be signed.
“Nope,” Namjoon shrugs, “we both thought that each other was trying to kill you, but quite the opposite, I guess? We both only wanted to protect you.”
Yoongi scoffs, throws his pen on the desk before rolling his eyes aggressively. “I told you, Joon-ah, Hoseok isn’t out to kill me at all. Did you really think I wouldn’t check through his background before hiring him?”
“Listen, Yoongi. You might have the resources, but trust me, we have bet—“
“No,” Yoongi cuts him off, rolling his eyes again. “Yes, you have hackers, right? What makes you think I don’t have one of my own? Seriously?”
Hoseok shrugs, taps his foot on the floor. Namjoon sighs, “no, it’s not that hyu—“
“Uh nuh nuh,” Yoongi holds up a finger, reaches for the pen rolling across his desk, “end of conversation. Hoseok, you can take your lunch break, and both of you can suck face until it ends, or find a closet to do all the shit you wanna do. I’m going to sit here, and sign all these contracts and read every bullet point. And then, I’ll see you at the meeting, and Joon, with him at dinner. All cool?”
“Cool,” Hoseok answers, standing up eagerly and reaching for Namjoon’s hand, “thank you for that lunch break. C’mon Joonie.”
Yoongi only huffs, tugs his Kumamon facemask a little higher before leaning down to examine all the fine print on the paper. Hoseok entwines his fingers with Namjoon and pulls him out of the room, nodding at Yoongi’s secretary before leading the taller into the corridor.
Namjoon lets Hoseok tug him into his office before he’s pushed onto the couch, the shorter man’s hands already working at his tie. He giggles, presses a kiss to Hoseok’s jaw before his own hands reach for the CFO’s belt and shirt.
“I wasn’t aware this was your definition of ‘suck face’,” he mutters into Hoseok’s neck as his own belt is unbuckled and hands are thrust under the band of his underwear, “this communication problem is becoming a little serious now, Hope-ah.”
“Shut up, Joonie,” Hoseok mutters, “it’s my office, you can fuck me on this couch. Either that, or I ride you and make you come in record time. That’s how I wanna spend my lunch break.”
“Sure you don’t want me to blow you instead?” Namjoon digs his fingers into Hoseok’s hair, pulls the CFO up to kiss him deeply before licking a stripe up his neck. “I can do a lot of things with my tongue, you know?”
Hoseok groans in a mix of frustration and pleasure, his hands sliding down Namjoon’s back as the cool air of his office hits the bare skin of his thighs. “That’s what my ex told me,” he grumbles as Namjoon starts kissing his collarbones, his own fingers sliding up the guard’s polo tee, “and he turned out to be a rapper. Apparently that’s what makes his tongue so good.”
Namjoon only laughs darkly, the sound going straight to Hoseok’s groin, before the CFO is suddenly on his back on his couch. He looks up to see his boyfriend looming over him, lips slick with spit and his eyes dangerous.
“Would you like to find out?” Namjoon’s finger finds the delicate spot that has Hoseok arching up, whimpering weakly as his own fingers skidded across the glass table, searching for the piece of plastic that is on him at all times.
“H-ha-hang o-on,” Hoseok stutters, pulling his phone to his face and hurriedly pulling up his chat with Jimin. His fingers shake as Namjoon inches his boxers down, and a wave of hot air hits his sensitive crotch that makes his toes curl.
“Seok-ah,” Namjoon’s tone is playful, his fingers digging lightly into Hoseok’s thigh, “if you don’t leave your phone, I’m going to make sure you drop it on the corner of the table so it will never ever distract us again.”
“Fu-fuck,” Hoseok tosses his phone back onto the table, fingers automatically finding their place in Namjoon’s hair, “n-next time, gi-give a fu-fucking war—oh fuck.”
As Hoseok’s words dissolve into a mess of moans and swear words, his phone lights up with a message from Jimin, but Namjoon’s tongue is definitely too talented to ignore at that point.
Told you. He’s definitely a rapper ;)