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Silverspoon wasn’t the only Dollhouse on the station, but it was one of the more popular ones. See, most Dollmasters made their own dolls; some from scratch, others from parts procured all over the Galactic Union’s territories.
That meant that each Dollhouse had something of a theme going on, regardless of what kind of clients they catered to. The dolls always, always reflected the tastes and quirks of the Dollmaster that had made them.
But Silverspoon was different because the Dollmaster didn’t make his own dolls; no, Namjoon’s Dollmaster took ready-made dolls from all over, and most of the time, each of them were different.
Dollmaster Bang was a filthy rich bastard, so price had never mattered to him. He often chose whatever caught his fancy for that month, and so Silverspoon had an exotic, and sometimes whimsically diverse, lineup. It had been quite the scandal, back when Silverspoon had first opened, and many other Dollhouses – ones that had been around for centuries, even – had turned their noses up at them, saying that Silverspoon wouldn’t last a week.
They’d proven them wrong, though, because Namjoon knew for a fact that Silverspoon raked in more credits than all the other Dollhouses on the station combined. Their clientele were loyal, if nothing else, and now, other Dollhouses were pulling all the stops, trying to outdo them – though nothing ever quite worked.
Dollmaster Bang had bought Namjoon from a recycling plant off-station, and Namjoon couldn’t tell you what had possessed him to do that. Namjoon had been engineered as a private doll for a retired Officer, a kind old man that had been too late by the time he’d realized that he’d wanted a son.
Namjoon hadn’t been made pretty, or alluring, like most dolls were. He’d been normal, more than anything else, programmed with the skills to play piano and a voice suited to reciting poetry, because that’s what his owner had been interested in. When the Officer had died, Namjoon had been dumped at the recycling plant where all dolls went when no one knew what to do with them.
Dollmaster Bang had bought Namjoon before he’d been put on the belt, and Namjoon wasn’t supposed to feel relieved, but he was. It hadn’t mattered that he had no idea how to have sex, or to give someone pleasure, and Dollmaster Bang hadn’t cared, either.
“You could say I’m like your last owner,” he’d said on the way back to his Dollhouse. Namjoon had looked at him quizzically, but Dollmaster Bang had simply smiled wistfully before explaining his ideas and plans for Silverspoon.
Namjoon had been his first purchase, and for some reason, Dollmaster Bang trusted his opinions and often took Namjoon’s advice seriously. It had made Namjoon feel something he knew he shouldn’t have, not when he was just a doll. It hadn’t seemed fair.
So when Dollmaster Bang had finally bought other dolls, more than enough to start running the house, Namjoon had insisted that he be included on the menu. Dollmaster Bang hadn’t been too thrilled at the idea, but Namjoon had won him over when he’d found himself regular clients that had liked Namjoon’s particular looks.
After all, at the time, they had to do all they could to prove Silverspoon would work, and eventually, Dollmaster Bang allowed Namjoon to do pretty much anything he thought was best for the house.
After Namjoon, Dollmaster Bang had purchased 10 more dolls, but only 7 had ended up being actually functional. 3 had short-circuited a few weeks after training had started, so Dollmaster Bang had had to buy more.
That was how Seokjin had joined them.
“You know he’s dangerous, right?” Seokjin says, combing his fingers absently through Namjoon’s hair as the other doll reads.
Namjoon glances up at him from the top of his book. “He’s a Space Pirate, of course I know that,” he says.
Seokjin rolls his eyes and pulls a strand of hair sharply in retaliation at the sassy tone, ignoring Namjoon’s grunt of pain.
“Then stop taking him,” he says. “You know Bang’s fine with us taking precautions.”
“Well, maybe I like dangerous,” Namjoon counters, sitting up. He misses the other doll’s fingers on his scalp, but he isn’t ready to get nagged at again. “What’s the worst he’ll do, anyway? Kill me? I’m an android, Jin, I can’t die.”
Namjoon ignores Seokjin’s flinch at the word android, stalking towards the door and tossing his book aside as he does so.
“What if he gets bored of having you for just a couple hours, then?” Seokjin calls out behind him.
Namjoon pauses for a moment at the doorway, listening, and Seokjin continues, “What if he decides he wants you forever and steals you from here?”
Namjoon almost laughs out loud at the suggestion, but shakes his head instead. “I’d like to see him try,” he says over his shoulder before leaving.
Seokjin was a limited-edition pleasure doll that had phased out a century ago when the GU had started getting stricter with their moral policies. Seokjin’s model had been popular, but ridiculously expensive (at the time of their production) because of the same reason that they’d been outlawed; they had actual organs.
Unlike all dolls now, Seokjin had a heart, a liver, a kidney, a healthy set of lungs - all transplanted from anonymous donors of varying species. Despite the rest of his body being mechanical, Seokjin was internally an organic hybrid of a living creature.
This fact, of course, didn’t sit right with Civil Rights Organizations, and so most of the Seokjin dolls were recalled.
Seokjin, however, managed to slip under the radar. According to him, his last owner had been a possessive son of a bitch, and he’d never registered Seokjin like all private doll owners were supposed to. So when he’d died, Seokjin had had to find his way through the galaxy on his own.
Without him realizing it, he’d ended up working on a cruise ship that gave jobs without asking too many questions, and he’d only left because people were starting to realize that he wasn’t ageing. When Dollmaster Bang had found him, Seokjin had been walking listlessly on the streets of the station Core, lost and unsure of what he wanted to do with himself.
Not many people would’ve recognized him as the doll model that he was, but Dollmaster Bang was shrewd. He’d known immediately, and he’d offered Seokjin a place in the house.
“Won’t you get into trouble if the Union finds out?” had been the first thing Seokjin had asked when he’d come to the house. “If you try to sell me on the black market, I’m not keeping my mouth shut.”
Dollmaster Bang had simply laughed, while Namjoon had been insulted that Seokjin would even suggest such a thing.
“Union Officers come by here all the time,” said Dollmaster Bang amusedly. “They’d rather be exiled than let anyone know what they do in their free time.”
Seokjin had been wary, even with Dollmaster Bang’s reassurances, but he’d given them a try. After a month had passed, he just hadn’t wanted to leave.
“How did you become a pirate?” Namjoon asks before he could stop himself.
He watches as Hoseok freezes in the middle of pulling his pants up, his scarred back to Namjoon. He doesn’t move or say anything for the longest time, and Namjoon wants so badly to take back his words. The last thing he wants is to fuck with their most dangerous regular, no matter how much he seems to like Namjoon, but the question has been on Namjoon’s mind for months now.
Namjoon sits up, slipping out of the bed and shuffling towards Hoseok on his knees.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, running his hands up the back of Hoseok’s left leg before pulling his pants up for him. “That’s none of my business,” he continues as he gently buttons them at the man’s waist.
A heavy hand lands on his scalp, and Namjoon internally flinches, actively trying not to tremble in fear. But Hoseok just cards his fingers through his hair, and when Namjoon looks up, the man has a rare, gentle smile on his face.
“It’s fine,” Hoseok says. “I was just surprised. It’s usually ‘why’, not ‘how’.”
Before Namjoon can say anything else, Hoseok moves away, picking up his holster from the armchair in the corner of the room and pulling it on deftly to rest just above his narrow hips.
“I had a sister,” Hoseok says, and Namjoon jumps at the sound of his voice. Hoseok pretends not to see, running a hand through his mess of orange-blonde locks. “She was older than me by a year.”
He stretches out his left arm and turns it over, pointing it towards Namjoon, who stands to his feet and approaches him for a better look. Namjoon has never noticed before, but from the faint blue lines that course faintly under the skin of Hoseok’s forearm, sparking at the crook of his elbow in 30-second intervals, it’s obvious then to Namjoon that Hoseok’s limb is not natural.
“I was five when our station was raided,” Hoseok says, voice so quiet, it sounds eerie. “We were so poor that there were only four pods there, and we had to share with another family of five.”
Hoseok pulls his arm away abruptly, and Namjoon pulls back from him. “My parents and the other families were killed, and they used my sister up before she finally died from the abuse,” he continues, a humourless chuckle escaping his lips. “They thought I was pretty enough to keep with them, but they cut my arm off to show me what would happen if I ever tried to escape.”
Namjoon feels sick, even though he knows he can’t actually physically throw up. But hearing Hoseok describe what had happened to him makes Namjoon want to retch.
“Were they pirates?” Namjoon asks, unable to hide the horror in his voice.
Hoseok turns around to face him, and Namjoon almost backs away when the man takes a step closer to him, but Hoseok simply cups Namjoon’s cheeks between his hands, rubbing his thumbs over Namjoon’s skin in a soothing manner.
“Baby, pirates saved me from them,” Hoseok murmurs, a sharp grin on his face. “Got me off that god forsaken ship and gave me a brand new arm and a new family to boot.”
Hoseok pulls him into a slow, deep kiss, and Namjoon’s eyes flutter closed as he allows the man to delve his tongue into his mouth. It feels like forever before Hoseok finally pulls away, and his eyes are dark with more than just lust.
“Ya need savin’, pirates are your best bet,” Hoseok breathes against Namjoon’s parted lips. “Now be a good doll and gimme a nice goodbye gift, yeah? Won’t be back for ‘nother two weeks.”
---
Hoseok’s promised ‘two weeks’ turns out to be three days instead.
Namjoon had been charging in his cubicle after a three-hour session when he’s abruptly unplugged. The sudden disconnection leaves him dazed and bewildered, and it takes him much too long to realize that he is being dragged along the third-floor hallway amidst charges raining through the air, and one in particular hissing an inch from his ear throws him back to full awareness.
It’s Seokjin’s hand wrapped tight around his wrist, pulling Namjoon securely behind him as he ducks and runs without pause, all the while screaming profanities. Further in front of him is none other than Captain Hoseok himself, shooting non-stop with twin pistols that charge blue and orange. Next to him is an unfamiliar rabbit hybrid, wielding an Enidian rifle that’s spitting fire and brimstone.
Before Namjoon can ask what the actual fuck is going on, Hoseok shouts over his shoulder to ‘GET DOWN!’, and Namjoon sees his world tilt downwards as Seokjin practically throws him to the floor. Less than a second later, Namjoon feels a rush of heat burst over his head, singing the tips of his hair.
When the heat dies down, Seokjin pulls Namjoon back to his feet, and then they’re running again. Namjoon sees other dolls panicking from their open doors, and he wants to stop to help, but there are too many charges flying around and the dolls are gone sooner than Namjoon can blink.
It’s chaos everywhere.
Somehow, they end up on the roof, where a Crow piloted by a small man hovers in the air. Hoseok leads them to it without hesitation, shooting over their shoulders at whoever is shooting at them. He waits as Seokjin pulls Namjoon into the small ship before climbing up after them, still throwing out charges down the roof even as they ascend. The rabbit hybrid is already at the pilot’s side, the two of them sharing a rushed, inaudible exchange of words.
It isn’t until the doors seal shut that Hoseok finally stops shooting, but even then, his gaze is hard as he stares out the clear glass, guns gripped tight in front of him.
Namjoon is on the floor of the cockpit, Seokjin pressed into his side like a limpet, and he looks up at Hoseok, wide-eyed.
“What happened?” he asks faintly, and Seokjin wails into his neck, arms wrapping around Namjoon tighter.
Hoseok looks down at them impassively, but Namjoon sees the way his shoulders relaxed, his eyes clearing with sorrow and grief.
“There’s a room in the back,” he says instead, jerking his head vaguely to the left. “Take your friend there. We’ll dock in ten minutes.”
---
Hoseok’s ship has the personality of its captain; that is, it’s dark and hard and dangerous-looking on the outside, but inside is a whole different story.
It’s sleek, for one thing. Gleaming titanium walls and rough floors made from a material that Namjoon has never seen before. The bridge shines with Enidian technology, and Namjoon has a feeling that the ship is more than simply a ship.
His guess is proven right as he staggers out of the Crow with Seokjin hanging off of him heavily, and a voice resounds all around them in greeting.
“Systems are go, Captain,” the voice says, bright and cheerful. It’s a striking contrast to how Namjoon is feeling. “Just waiting for your call.”
Hoseok grunts an answer as he leads them down a hall, “Warp ass, Taemin.”
“Aye, aye, Cap’n!” the voice replies, and Namjoon feels the floors rumbling under his feet as the ship’s engines breathe.
The pilot from the Crow sidles up to Seokjin’s side, pulling his other arm over his shoulders without prompting. He has a bubbly smile, tinged with sympathy.
“I’m Jimin,” he says to Namjoon as they half-carry, half-drag Seokjin between them. “Sorry for your loss.”
Namjoon frowns, confessing, “I don’t even know what happened.”
Jimin’s smile saddens. “That’s okay,” he says. “Cap’n’s gonna take care of you two. Trust me.”
Namjoon wants to tell him that he doesn’t even know him, let alone want to trust him, but he bites his tongue and keeps that thought to himself. Next to him, Seokjin whimpers softly, and Namjoon grips his hand tightly in reassurance.
There’s more space on the ship than there is crew, so Namjoon and Seokjin get a room to themselves. Seokjin passes out as soon as his back hits a charging cube, and Namjoon finds himself at a loss as to what to do, left alone in unfamiliar surroundings.
Jimin had skipped away after making sure Namjoon had understood how the locking mechanism of the room worked, telling him that he could just call out ‘Taemin’ if he needed any help. As Namjoon had suspected, the ship is sentient, and refuses to respond to anything other than that name.
Namjoon sits on the large bed in the middle of the room, staring vacantly at Seokjin’s unconscious form, and it’s a long while before he realizes that he isn’t alone after all. He’d forgotten about the rabbit hybrid from before, and it startles him how quiet the man is that he hadn’t even noticed that he’s actually standing near the door, watching Namjoon carefully.
“Did you want something?” Namjoon asks him tiredly.
The hybrid jumps at the question, looking spooked like he hadn’t expected Namjoon to acknowledge his presence. Namjoon takes in the young, boyish face, absently noting that one of his rabbit ears has a sizeable chunk of it missing near the tip and several piercings along the other. He doesn’t look that dangerous when he isn’t wielding his gun, but even despite his youthful looks, he has the body of a seasoned soldier.
“Cap’n told me t’ keep an eye on you,” mutters the hybrid almost inaudibly. His face is flushed as he speaks, and even though he’s looking at Namjoon, Namjoon feels like his eyes are more fixed on a single spot on his face, and not himself in general.
Namjoon raises a brow at him. “Can you tell me what happened?” he asks hopefully.
The hybrid blinks a few times, blush fading quickly, but he still doesn’t seem to be really looking at Namjoon.
“Cap’n got a call from Bang,” he says slowly, seemingly unsure. “Raiders ‘tacking ‘is Dollhouse. But we were far away, and they already got ‘im by the time we got there.”
Namjoon stares at him, mouth falling open. “Bang’s dead?” he asks quietly, unable to believe his own ears.
The hybrid shifts on his feet, nodding shortly. Namjoon can’t quite process the information.
Bang, dead.
It doesn’t seem like something he would ever hear, even though he knows he would’ve, one day. After all, Bang was mortal, and he was eventually going to grow old and die. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? He had been supposed to grow old, to die a natural death.
Namjoon had been supposed to be by his side, holding his hand as he breathed his last, just like a good son is supposed to.
Namjoon hadn’t even gone to see him for the past three days, thinking he’d have time later to share a drink with the man when he wasn’t busy having meetings and pouring over business proposals.
“You’re cryin’,” the hybrid says suddenly, snapping Namjoon out of his stupor. The hybrid looks immensely confused, but somewhat awed, too.
“Didn’t know dolls could do that,” he says sheepishly when Namjoon looks at him.
Namjoon wipes at his cheeks slowly, staring down at the dampness on his fingers. “I didn’t know that, either,” he says, more to himself than anything else.
“Hey, Kookie, Cap’n said he’s on his way down,” the ship’s voice booms suddenly in the room. The hybrid straightens his posture, looking alert. “You’re taking Yoongi’s shift on the bridge.”
The hybrid nods silently, glancing at Namjoon for a brief moment before leaving.
Hoseok comes in not a minute later, just as quiet as the hybrid had been. But unlike the hybrid, he doesn’t linger near the door. He makes his way unhesitatingly to the bed, stopping in front of Namjoon. His guns are back in their holsters, gleaming dangerously by his sides, but Hoseok hadn’t gotten cleaned; there’s still blood staining his shirt, dried flakes clinging to his cheeks and neck.
He reminds Namjoon of a predator that’s ready to attack at the drop of a pin; a beast awakened by the taste of its first kill of the night.
“Bang was a close friend,” Hoseok says in a hoarse voice. Namjoon stares up at him, unsure of what to say, but Hoseok doesn’t seem to be expecting a reply, continuing with, “I promised him I’d take care of you if anything ever happened to him. And I will. But I need to make whoever’s responsible for this pay first.”
Revenge.
Namjoon feels like he should be discouraging that. He’s never been the type to hold a grudge, but then again, he’s never lost the only human in the universe that had ever treated him like family, either. Past the shock, the disbelief, the grief and the pain of Bang’s death; Namjoon realizes, quite suddenly, that he feels angry.
“I want in,” he finds himself saying.
Hoseok raises a brow down at him, his grim expression slacking into something more like amused surprise. “Have you ever even held a gun before in your life?” he asks, surprisingly gentle in his tone.
Namjoon glares at him, although he appreciates that Hoseok’s trying not to sound patronizing about this, at least. Hoseok is a notorious Space Pirate. A Captain. Namjoon’s a pleasure doll, or, at least he had been up to an hour or so ago. Hoseok is dangerous, if he’s reputation is anything to go by, and next to him, Namjoon’s like a child.
And now, Namjoon’s little more than an android with no home, no purpose, no directive to follow through. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do now, without Bang or Silverspoon. But he knows what’s he’s not going to do; he’s not going to take no for an answer.
“I have unlimited memory space,” he tells Hoseok. “I’ll learn and I’ll learn fast.”
Hoseok shakes his head, but he regards Namjoon silently for a moment.
“It was the Union,” he says, after what seems like forever, and Namjoon frowns in confusion. “They’d paid Raiders to burn your Dollhouse to the ground when Bang refused to give them something they’d wanted.” Hoseok shakes his head, a sadly fond smile gracing his lips briefly. “Stubborn old bastard.”
“What would the Galactic Union want from Bang?” Namjoon asks, astonished. Bang’s never been a political man - he had been neutral on all fronts, and Namjoon can’t fathom why the Union would even know him, let alone want something that badly from him.
Hoseok shrugs in reply, his expression hardening once more. “I don’t fucking care, to be honest,” he says simply. “Whatever it was, they didn’t get it in the end. But there you have it - Bang was killed by the Union.” He crosses his arms and looks down at Namjoon challengingly. “You still want in, baby?”
Namjoon glares harder at Hoseok at the clear dismissal, forgetting for a moment, in his indignation, that this man is known for having killed thousands, of conquering whole stations and once commanding a fifty-ship fleet against an army of Raiders. Jung Hoseok has a 70-something million credit bounty over his head, but Namjoon forgets this because if Hoseok is going to kill the bastards that had burnt Namjoon’s life to the ground, then Namjoon is very well going to at least be there when he does it, stars damn him.
“Bang was a father to me,” he says, jutting his chin out defiantly, even though the words sort of make him want to cry. “If you don’t let me get the bastards responsible for this with you, I’ll find some other way to do it myself.”
Hoseok regards him again, his eyes narrowing as he stares at Namjoon. Namjoon fears that he’s going to say no, but then a sharp grin breaks out on Hoseok’s face and Namjoon finds himself being grabbed and pulled to his feet, hands cupping his face and the taste of ash and blood blooming on his tongue as Hoseok kisses him, deeply and fiercely.
Hoseok pulls away before Namjoon can do anything besides stare at him wide-eyed.
“Knew I liked you for a reason,” Hoseok says smugly before letting go of Namjoon’s face.