Chapter Text
“Excuse me,” someone says, tapping Hoseok on the shoulder.
He turns around and offers the person -a short-haired woman in a dress that’s weirdly long on her, the skirt trailing behind her like a train- a smile that he hopes doesn’t look too disingenuous. It’s not her fault that he was just about to go on break.
This shift has been a good one, if not rather busy- he’s been at work for four hours already and has yet to have taken so much as five minutes for himself. Still, a lot of work means a lot of tips, and you won’t catch Hoseok saying no to more money.
The woman doesn’t return his smile, but Hoseok’s used to that by now; mercenaries aren’t usually the most outwardly friendly of people. What is surprising, though, is the thing she says next.
“I want to speak to your manager. I have a complaint.”
“I- what?” It’s certainly not the first time Hoseok’s ever heard those words -he’s worked at many a restaurant before this one, and angry customers are nothing out of the norm- but no one’s ever lodged a complaint once in the seven months Hoseok’s worked at the Raven.
(Honestly, some days he’s not sure how it hasn’t happened yet- the amount of injuries people have gotten just from bumping into the edges of those reinforced tables alone should warrant some kind of class-action lawsuit, but it seems mercenaries have a high tolerance for that sort of thing.)
“Your manager,” the woman repeats icily. “Let me speak to them. Now .”
“I’m so sorry that something is wrong, ma’am. Is it anything I can take care of?” Hoseok asks, slipping into protocol thoroughly drilled into him by every other waiting job he’s ever worked. It’s almost strange to be so demure to a customer again- mercenaries appreciate respect, but spinelessness is a one-way ticket to harassment at the Raven, a concept that much of their short-lived waitstaff can’t quite grasp. Admittedly, it’s a fine line to walk, and Hoseok tends to stray to the side closer to informality just to keep his head, something that few other employees do.
“I’m certainly not going to discuss it with the likes of you,” she sneers.
Maybe it’s a testament to how much of a backbone he’s grown over the past few months, but Hoseok’s first instinct is to barely repress a scoff instead of quail at the fierce look in her eyes.
Still, against what’s probably his better judgement, he decides to offer her one more chance. Maybe she’s just having a bad day, or maybe her complaint really is something serious. “Ma’am, are you cure there’s nothing I can do? I’d be happy to refund the cost of your meal for you.”
“You just want me gone, don’t you?” she asks sharply. Her voice begins to rise in volume, attracting the attention of several nearby customers. “You people don’t want to have to face your flaws.”
Hoseok internally sighs. “Ma’am-” he tries again, but she’s having none of it.
The woman clicks her fingers at him, one hand on her hip and waist cocked sharply to one side in a poor attempt at looking self-important. “Better hurry up and get your manager, busboy,” she sneers, like being called a busboy is some devastating insult that Hoseok will never recover from, “Before I get you fired.”
Hoseok is starting to consider that this might all just be some kind of a fever dream. People don’t come to The Raven for the
food
or the
service
- they come because it’s a safe space for mercenaries to be themselves without worrying about the watchful eyes of cops or the general public. And while neither of those two aforementioned things are by any means
bad
at The Raven, they’re certainly not its main selling point. If they got Yelp reviews, they’d be somewhere firmly in the low four-star range: not phenomenal, but certainly good enough to merit its popularity among their clientele.
But even if the complaint is legitimate, Hoseok really doesn’t want to go and fetch his manager. Laura came into work today with eye bags so dark they looked painted on and within five minutes of arriving attempted to fire a busboy for trying to say good afternoon to her. Hoseok had immediately turned around and told the poor boy he wasn’t actually fired -perks of being newly-promoted assistant manager- and effectively averted that crisis, but it still didn’t bode well for how the rest of the day was going to turn out.
Hoseok still has yet to see anybody get shot at the Raven, but he absolutely would not put it past his manager to potentially break that streak when faced with an absolute bitch of a customer like this one.
So he makes a choice. Laura won’t mind- she likes him well enough, in her own way, and half of the reason she’d made him assistant manager in the first place was to spare her from painful social interactions like this. He stands up a little straighter, adjusts his tie, and smirks. “You’re speaking to the manager,” he tells her, then adds a sickly sweet, “How can I help?”
There’s a very enjoyable second where the woman does nothing but gape at him, furious disbelief painting her face.
“You, you-” she sputters, and it’s only thanks to Hoseok’s immense self-control that he doesn’t laugh at the way her mouth starts opening and closing like a dying fish. Several nearby customers, having heard Hoseok’s reply, are cackling without any of his reservations.
Then there’s a gun pointed at his head, and suddenly the whole situation is a lot less funny than it was a minute ago.
Hoseok’s not
scared,
per say; he’s been held at gunpoint a non-zero number of times, and each time it happens it becomes more and more unremarkable. Mercenaries use guns as tools and symbols just as often as they wield them in actual combat- they know full well the power a gun can have over someone who’s not used to seeing them around constantly without ever even pulling the trigger.
Unfortunately for this mercenary, though, Hoseok has seen far too many guns in the past seven months to be impressed by anything short of someone pulling out a bazooka in front of him. He’s confident she won’t actually shoot him- not with the whole restaurant staring at them, ready to pass their judgement on whatever choice she makes next.
“Ma’am,” he says slowly, keeping stock-still as the barrel of the gun digs into his forehead. “Please put the gun down so we can sort this out.”
“I think we’re a little beyond that,” she hisses. “You humiliated me.”
You did that to yourself
, Hoseok mentally replies, biting his tongue to stop himself from speaking aloud. Just because he’s mostly sure he’s not about to get shot doesn’t mean he should be pushing his luck any further.
“You don’t want to do this,” he tells her instead, tone as low and calm as he can make it.
The woman glowers at him, fury crackling in her eyes, and her grip on the gun doesn’t falter in the slightest. “Let’s talk about what’s going to happen here,” she says through gritted teeth. “First, I’m going to-
“Is there a problem?” a voice from behind Hoseok asks.
It’s comical how quickly the woman’s face drains of all color. “I- sir, wha-”
Even if Hoseok couldn’t recognize who was behind him by voice alone, her reaction would’ve been a dead giveaway. He relaxes. Nothing will hurt him now.
“Hey,” he says lightly, straining to catch a glimpse of his savior in his peripherals.
Namjoon doesn’t reply, but he shifts so he’s just in Hoseok’s line of sight, and Hoseok has to bite back a smile.
“ Kim Namjoon-nim, with all due respect,” the poor woman is practically trembling, “This issue is none of your concern.”
“Considering that’s my boyfriend you’re holding at gunpoint, I think it is,” he replies, tone deceivingly light.
The woman drops the gun in shock.
She then must realize just how incredibly stupid of an idea it is to drop a loaded gun in the middle of a crowded restaraunt, because she does an impressive dive to the floor and manages to catch it just before it hits the ground.
Hoseok immediately steps away from her and positions himself so he’s standing next to Namjoon. Not behind him -he’s no coward- but close enough that Namjoon could easily block her if she tried anything.
She doesn’t, thankfully, just stares up at them from the ground for a moment, her dress pooling around her and practically drowning her in dark fabric. Her face is a fiery red, and for a moment Hoseok almost -almost- feels bad for her.
The woman forces herself to her feet, shooting Hoseok a fierce glare that would be a lot more intimidating if he hadn’t watched her just make a complete fool out of herself. “I- you-”
Somehow still capable of being an asshole despite having just been thoroughly shamed, she huffs and stalks off, managing to stomp fiercely on Hoseok’s foot with one stiletto heel as she makes her exit. He hisses in pain and Namjoon shoots him a look of concern.
“She stepped on my foot,” he explains, trying to make it out to be a casual thing despite the fact that he’s currently trying not to cry. Why are stiletto heels so
sharp
?
“What a bitch,” someone from a nearby table remarks loudly.
“Really,” someone else replies.
“Are you going to report her to your manager?” Namjoon asks.
“Laura-ssi can’t do anything,” Hoseok sighs. The Raven, for better or for worse, keeps its status as a famously open and tolerant restaurant by only banning people for the worst possible offenses. Unfortunately, harassing waitstaff is not on that short list of transgressions.
“She won’t be coming back either way, I’m sure,” Namjoon tells him coldly.
Hoseok would question how exactly he’d manage that, but with the way the restaurant has gone silent, its patrons watching Namjoon’s every move with rapt attention, even just him saying that is probably the mercenary equivalent of a royal decree. That woman won’t be allowed within fifteen meters of The Raven again for as long as she lives.
Hoseok finally lets the grin that he’s been fighting for the past few minutes stretch across his face. “You’re the best,” he says.
Namjoon laughs, his dimples manifesting, and suddenly he’s not Kim Namjoon: most feared mercenary in Seoul, but rather Kim Namjoon: Hoseok’s very cute boyfriend.
Hoseok practically melts. He loves him so much he can hardly believe it sometimes- that he, Jung Hoseok, gets to be a part of something as wonderful and special as his group of boyfriends is.
“When does your shift end, by the way?” Namjoon asks as the restaurant slowly starts to return to some state of normalcy. Yuchan, a newly-hired waiter, brushes by them with a quick “excuse me!” on his way to the kitchen. The table next to them pours themselves new glasses of wine and resumes whatever discussion they’d been having prior to Hoseok nearly getting shot.
“Another hour,” Hoseok says. “Technically after what just happened I could go home now, but-”
“You like it here too much,” Namjoon finishes with a grin.
Hoseok smiles widely. “Exactly.”
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Hoseok is shocked by his own resilience to everything he’s been through while he’s worked at The Raven. No sane, normal food service employee should be so okay with everything he goes through on a regular basis. It’s a good thing that nothing about Hoseok’s life is really normal, he supposes.
“I can wait outside for you, if you want,” Namjoon offers.
“You don’t have to do that,” Hoseok replies. “Just go hang out in the back room for a bit.”
“Your coworkers won’t care?” Namjoon asks, eyebrow raised, and Hoseok knows that the same memories of their first meeting are going through their minds.
Still, he waves a hand dismissively. “Probably not.”
“If you’re sure,” Namjoon says doubtfully. “I don’t want to scare anyone.”
Hoseok internally coos. “They’re all mostly adults,” he reassures. “They’ll be fine. Just go knock on the door and someone will let you in.”
Namjoon obediently leaves to go do just that, and Hoseok returns to his section. So much for his break- he might as well just power through the rest of the shift at this point.
“I’m so sorry about the wait,” he tells the two women sitting at the first table he reaches. “There was an issue with a customer I had to resolve.”
One of the women starts laughing. “Yeah, we saw that,” she says. “You absolutely destroyed her.”
Hoseok can’t help but snort. “I’m not sure that’s quite what happened,” he begins, but the other woman chimes in.
“You did us all a favor, anyways. She’s so damn entitled, always acts like she’s better than the rest of us because she’s got ties to some of the bigger gangs- hopefully this’ll shut her up.”
Tonight actually wasn’t the first time Hoseok has managed to gain the favor of the mercenary community by inadvertently shutting down pompous assholes when they try to walk all over him -it’s a fantastic story, but one for another time- but he makes a mental note that this woman might come back for potential revenge one day. If there’s one thing mercenaries are good at, it’s holding a grudge.
He smiles and thanks the pair, who cheerfully tell him they’ll tip him extra for “doing god’s work,” and goes about taking their orders.
When he’s on the way to the kitchen, someone taps him on the shoulder. It’s Jisung (the short, loud one- there are two of them now, and both they refuse to go by nicknames, which never ceases to be incredibly confusing) looking concerned about something.
“Is something wrong?” Hoseok asks.
“Did you send Kim Namjoon into our back room?” Jisung asks.
Oh, no. “What happened?” Hoseok asks tiredly.
“Well, he didn’t do anything,” Jisung begins, running a hand through his royal blue hair. “Everyone else just kind of-”
“-Freaked out?” Hoseok guesses.
Jisung nods, almost sheepish.
“Namjoon-ah picks me up from work all the time- how are they still scared of him?” Hoseok sighs.
“He’s really not that scary,” Jisung agrees, nodding sagely. “He has dimples- no one with dimples is scary.”
Hoseok vaguely remembers that Jisung is quite publicly crushing on a mercenary regular of theirs who also happens to have dimples and laughs to himself. “Exactly.”
“Anyway, you should probably go and handle that,” Jisung continues. “I can take the rest of your shift for you if you two just want to head home.”
Although Hoseok would very much like to finish his shift, he knows it’s probably best for him to save his coworkers from whatever situation they’ve created in the back room by just taking his boyfriend back to their apartment. “Thanks,” he tells Jisung. “I owe you one.”
“I’ll hold you to it!” Jisung says with a grin. “Get home safe!”
Hoseok takes a second to just stand in front of the door to the back room, not quite ready to open the door and face whatever stupid thing his coworkers have done this time. Technically, as assistant manager he could punish them, but he likes them all far too much for that. They’re all incredibly chaotic, sure, and they’re going to kill Laura someday from the high blood pressure issues they’ve undoubtedly given her, but they’re good people.
He takes a deep breath and presses his hand to the fingerprint scanner on the door, lets it whoosh open, and takes in the sight before him.
It’s honestly hilarious. Laura is seated across from Namjoon at a table, a hand of what looks like poker spread out in front of them. They’re chatting quietly as they play, entirely at ease.
His coworkers, on the other hand, are pressed as close to the walls as they physically can be. Several people are wedged behind furniture for reasons known only to them, and a group of busboys are perched atop cabinets -how did they even do that - staring at Namjoon as if he might attack them at any second. Most people are trying to look at their phones to appear inconspicuous, but they’re doing a terrible job, seeing as how several people are holding theirs upside down. Holding a phone also isn’t an overly effective way to appear discreet when one is hiding behind a trash can in a corner, but somehow a few people have failed to grasp that particular concept.
Hoseok can’t help but burst into laughter at the sight before him, and both Namjoon and Laura glance up at him.
“Want me to deal you in?” his manager offers, the most outwardly courteous she gets.
“Nah, we should probably get going,” Hoseok says apologetically. “Next time, though.”
Laura shrugs, which is essentially a yes, and Namjoon hands his cards back to her as he stands up. “You’re leaving early?” he asks.
Laura doesn’t even blink; Hoseok knows he’s her best -and favorite, if she’s capable of having a favorite anything- employee. She won’t care about him leaving an hour early, not with all of the times he’s gone above and beyond to help out when she needs it.
Hoseok nods. “I’m hungry. We should go get dinner or something.” He’s not going to point out the obvious reason for them to leave.
“I’ll ask if anyone else wants to join us,” Namjoon says, moving to stand next to Hoseok and immediately linking their hands. With his other, he pulls out his phone and starts texting.
“Can you be here tomorrow at four?” Laura asks.
“Yep,” he replies.
“And don’t forget-”
“I have to train the new people on Thursday. Got it,” Hoseok finishes. “Goodnight, Laura-ssi!”
She waves him away, and Hoseok walks with Namjoon towards the door. Everyone in the restaurant stares at them, customer and staff alike -minus Jisung, who just offers a cheery wave- and Hoseok doesn’t even blink at the attention. He’s more than used to it.
“Did anyone else say they wanted to come with us?” Hoseok asks as they step outside.
“Jungkook-ah said he was right nearby,” Namjoon answers, just as a sleek, black car pulls up to the curb in front of them. It looks wildly expensive and is probably some iconic brand, but all Hoseok registers is Jungkook’s grinning face as he rolls down the window.
“Where do you want to go for dinner? I was thinking Italian,” he says in lieu of a hello, brushing a lock of hair out of his eyes.
“Sounds good,” Hoseok says, and suddenly his stomach growls. Right- he’d skipped lunch today. “Anything does, really, as long as we get it soon.”
“Rock paper scissors for shotgun,” Namjoon says, and three very intense rounds later, Hoseok gleefully climbs into the front seat of the car, grinning with Jungkook as he buckles his seatbelt.
“Missed you,” Hoseok tells him.
“Missed you more,” Jungkook replies with a smile that shines brighter than the streetlights, and Hoseok kisses him just because he can.
He wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.