Chapter Text
It’s no secret that Mr. Jung and Mr. Min positively hate each other’s guts.
“I wouldn’t say I hate him,” Hoseok tells a curious student, letting out a nervous little laugh as he looks at them. “I just think-”
“He’s a bumbling, incompetent idiot. An art teacher, of all things, and can’t even manage to do a good job at that,” Yoongi answers, not skipping a beat. The words roll off his tongue with such confidence and certainty, one would have to assume he’d rehearsed them in the mirror a thousand times before. The aforementioned student stares doe-eyed at Yoongi as he continues to grade assignments. “Now, do you have anything more important to ask?”
Jeon Jungkook, 16 years old, curious student in question, is deeply enthralled by both sides of this unspoken drama. Without very many friends to spend his lunches with, he’d often stay after class for no reason other than to converse with his favourite teachers, who coincidentally happen to be each other’s least favourite people in general. This is base level information that the average student finds out two weeks into their freshman year. The reason for this vitriol, however, is a lot less widespread. In fact, no one - students nor staff members - seem to have any idea why these two loathe each other so much.
“You’re a good kid, Jungkook,” Yoongi sighs. He claims to hate giving these speeches, yet finds himself taking any opportunity to dispense one. “I’ll never understand why you don’t spend more time with kids your own age.”
“Sir, you’re only 28,” Jungkook says, and Yoongi tilts his head to the side with a lopsided smile, picking up the stack of papers and standing them upright on his desk, pushing in the sides so nothing sticks out and everything aligns neatly. “That’s more than a decade. I’m practically old enough to be your father,” he says, and Jungkook laughs at this, a brief yet genuine sound. “You sound like Mr. Jung,” he says. The smile falls from Yoongi’s face and he groans. “God, I’d hope not.”
It takes Yoongi a moment to remember that Jungkook, for reasons he’ll never understand, actually likes his art teacher. “Pretend I didn’t say that,” he says sternly, nodding at his student. Jungkook mimics this stern expression as best he can and nods back, the corners of his lips twitching as he tries to hold back a fit of giggling. Evidently, he fails, and Yoongi looks away in embarrassment at his slip. Once composed, Jungkook poses a new question. “Why do you think he’s so bad? I think I’ve improved since his class! And he’s nice to everyone - that’s good, right?”
Yoongi sucks in air through his teeth, not entirely sure how to respond in a way that won’t hurt Jungkook’s feelings. “It’s bad because teenagers are horrible. No offense, but-”
Jungkook shrugs, completely unaffected. “None taken. Continue?”
Huffing out a laugh, Yoongi leans back in his chair before continuing. “They cannot be left to run wild like rabid animals. They want respect? They need to earn it. You arrive to my class on time, wear your uniform properly, you don’t leave your seat unless asked to, you do the work assigned to you, and you walk out a better person because of it. Very reasonable set of requests! Mr. Jung, however?” Yoongi pauses, taking a deep breath. The mere mention of his name seems to burn his tongue. “No, Mr. Jung wouldn’t agree with that.” He clears his throat and leans forward, then rolls up his sleeves, and says his next statement is a tone so childish in his mockery that were any of his students to use it, he’d tell them to return to kindergarten. “Mr. Jung believes the children are our future. Ridiculous. Not to mention that hideous figurine collection on his desk. What is he, twelve?”
Jungkook laughs and waves his hands fervently, signaling for Yoongi to stop before he gets any more personal with it. “Stop, stop! I regret asking,” Jungkook says, struggling to take in all of the information just thrown at him. “What did his action figures ever do to you?” Jungkook asks, and Yoongi only bows his head in faux shame. “Right, that wasn’t very professional of me. Mr. Jung’s toy collection is incredibly admirable and it’s not at all embarrassing for a grown man to have on display. Jungkook, do me a favour and forget that happened, hm?”
Jungkook falls silent. While his answer was certainly entertaining, Jungkook can’t help but feel that he’s missing some vital piece of information. No one gets that worked up about something so miniscule for no reason. There has to be something else, some catalyst that prompted this, and Jungkook won’t be able to rest until he figures out what it is.
“Well, for what it’s worth,” Jungkook starts, adjusting his collar. “I still think he’s cool. I’ll tell him what you think he can improve on!”
Yoongi’s head shoots up and he narrows his eyes, looking at Jungkook like he’s just confessed to a crime of the highest caliber. “You’ll do no such thing,” he says, but Jungkook’s already made up his mind. Nothing Yoongi says or does at this point in time can stop him from ratting him out. Perfectly on cue the bell that signals break’s end rings, and Jungkook stands to leave. Yoongi looks at him with his mouth agape in dismay. “Jeon Jungkook, you-” he starts, but Jungkook has already sprinted out of the room and down the hall, a grin plastered across his face.
Yoongi smiles in spite of himself and shakes his head, putting the interaction to the back of his mind as he welcomes the next class. Surely Jungkook wouldn’t actually tell Hoseok any of what he just said. Would he?
Today is a Thursday, which is Jungkook’s least favourite day timetable-wise as the only two classes he enjoys today are his second period History class, taught by Mr. Min, and last period Art class, taught by Mr. Jung. Though he spends the middle section of his day simply longing for it to be over, Jungkook gains a new lust for life every time he enters the art room. Every unpleasant experience with other teachers and classmates melts away in an instant. And on a day like today, where there’s more than usual on his mind, Mr. Jung always seems to notice.
An hour passes, just as slowly as every other hour before has also passed, and the rest of the students in Jungkook’s class noisily rustle through their bags and rush to return supplies to their respective shelves. Before the bell has even finished ringing out, all of Jungkook’s classmates have fled, shouting back a cacophony of “thanks sir!”s as they scramble outside and begin their respective treks home. Jungkook, however, stays put. His shoulders are positioned up at his ears, and when long enough has passed for silence to resume, Hoseok smiles at him. “You can relax now.”
Jungkook smiles and loosens up. He hates how loud it gets between class periods, and especially at the end of the day, but those uncomfortable stretches of time only make the eventual silence more golden. Hoseok nods his head at Jungkook, signaling for him to come sit by his desk. Most teachers would put a hit out on any student who dares to keep them after work hours, but luckily for Jungkook, Hoseok doesn’t seem to mind as long as there’s a reason for it.
Especially if that reason involves gossip.
When Jungkook sits down, he can’t seem to stay still. “You look like you’re about to explode,” Hoseok says. He leans back in his chair, sitting with his legs crossed, cradling a sticker-covered travel cup in his hands. “What’s on your mind?” he asks, and finally, after what feels like an entirety, Jungkook relays a slightly paraphrased but mostly accurate retelling of Yoongi’s morning speech. He talks with precision, like he’s been rehearsing all day, and Hoseok’s eyes widen more at each new word.
“-Then he said your figures are ugly,” Jungkook says, and is cut off by the sound of Hoseok choking on his iced Americano.
“He what?!” Hoseok exclaims, violently spluttering, and Jungkook pats him harshly on the back in an attempt to help. Perhaps he should’ve left that part out. “Who does he think he is?” Hoseok asks, setting down his cup and pounding his chest, taking a deep breath to try and compose himself. He’s so angry, so gravely insulted that he can’t bring himself to speak. Jungkook feels bad. He definitely shouldn’t have left that part out.
“Mr. Jung, I think your figures are cool,” he says meekly, and Hoseok shakes his head. “Of course you do. You have taste,” he says, picking up a little red figurine with crossed out eyes and round burgundy shoes. “Unlike some people… Why doesn’t he become an art teacher, hm? Since he thinks he’s so much better than me… He wouldn’t last a day,” Hoseok says, laughing at the thought of it. “My kids love me, Jungkook, Mr. Min’s students are just scared of him. He’s a dictator with abysmal fashion sense.”
“Sir, that’s a good idea,” Jungkook says, and Hoseok quirks an eyebrow at him. “What? You think I should tell him to stop dressing like a funeral director?”
Jungkook shakes his head. “No, not that. You should get him to cover one of your classes! He’ll try to teach us his way, it won’t work, and he’ll realize that you’re a really good teacher after all! Then you two can be friends,” he adds, and Hoseok busts out laughing. “Friends? Yoongi? Sorry, Mr. Min? Ah, Jungkook, you’re a good kid,” he says, and Jungkook pouts, having realized long ago that the phrase ‘good kid’ is just a more polite way of saying ‘naive little fool’. Hoseok continues, “I wouldn’t let that man supervise my classroom if it meant I’d get a pay raise. Even if I wanted him to, there’s no way he’d do it.”
“I could ask him to,” Jungkook says without missing a beat, and Hoseok shakes his head. “It shouldn’t matter to you. You know, it was very unprofessional of Yoongi to drag you into this in the first place,” he says, trying his hardest to look unhappy about having to insult his coworker. “Sir, don’t blame him. I was the one who asked. Besides, this is good! If you get everything out in the open then maybe you can finally stop fighting!”
“Me and Mr. Min have nothing to fight over. As long as he keeps his comments to himself, then I don’t have any problem with him,” he says, leaning forward to look Jungkook in the eyes. He looks so kind, so desperate to be helpful, and while trash-talking his mortal enemy is always fun, Hoseok feels it’s not right to drag an innocent student into this adult problem, no matter how much Jungkook may think it’s what he wants. “You don’t need to worry about it, okay?”
Jungkook doesn’t respond. “Is there anything else you wanna talk about before you head home?” Hoseok asks. He’d hate to make Jungkook feel obliged to leave with anything still troubling him, but the bell did ring quite a while ago, and if Hoseok’s not home in time to watch the newest episode of Extraordinary Attorney then his entire week will be ruined.
Jungkook bites his lip and furrows his eyebrows. It’s obvious there’s something, but he doesn’t quite know how to put it. “Spit it out,” Hoseok says, his voice soft hearted in comparison to his words. Jungkook looks up at him. “Mr. Jung?”
“Mhm?”
“Did something happen with you two?”
Hoseok’s eyes go wide. He tilts his head in thought, looking to the ceiling as if trying to recall something, and after an extended period of pensive silence, Hoseok shakes his head. “No,” he says definitively, nodding as he returns his gaze to Jungkook. “Nothing happened. Some people just don’t mix, y’know?” he says with a shrug, and while slightly disappointed that he hasn’t sourced the cause of their fighting, Jungkook is inclined to believe Hoseok isn’t lying to him about it. Suddenly, he smiles. “Even if something did, why would I tell you? Jungkook, you should start watching soap operas. Those might satisfy your insatiable need for drama.”
Jungkook smiles awkwardly, his ears turning red. “Yeah, yeah. You and Yoongi are as bad as each other,” he says, and Hoseok points a finger at him, smiling mischievously. “Hey! That’s Mr. Min to you, kiddo. You only get Yoongi privileges if you’re old enough to remember myspace. Now, is that all?” He asks again, and this time Jungkook nods. He’s not satisfied by any means, and ideally, this is just the start of his mission to make them get along. Hoseok reaches out to gently pat Jungkook’s shoulder. “Good. You get home safe, alright? And stop worrying about this, I’m sure Mr. Min will grow up someday and when he does, you’ll be the first person I tell. Sound good?”
Jungkook laughs. He feels better knowing Hoseok’s feelings aren’t hurt. “See you tomorrow, sir,” he says, and Hoseok smiles, ruffling his hair. “Take care.”
When Hoseok gets home that night, it doesn’t matter how hard he tries to bring his attention elsewhere, there’s exactly one thought on his mind that refuses to be forgotten about. Why the hell does Jungkook care so much?
More importantly, why is he involved in the first place?
Settling himself down on the couch beside his housemate, Soyoon, Hoseok patiently waits for the newest episode to load in hopes that once he’s watching tv he might be able to think about something else. Yet, from one scene to the next, his thoughts stay stagnant. All he can think about is Min Yoongi. He tries to distract himself by eating but the hulatang soup he made for himself and Soyoon tastes especially sour, and anything sour also reminds him of Min Yoongi. God, that bastard. Hoseok shovels more soup into his mouth angrily.
He has to do something about this. If Yoongi wants to trash talk him to other members of staff, then he can go ahead and do that! Granted, that’s something he’s never done, but that’s only because he doesn’t seem to speak to any other staff members in the first place. Hoseok wonders if it was always like this. From what he’s heard, Yoongi has always been relatively antisocial, but in the three odd years that Hoseok’s worked at this school he hasn’t seen Yoongi in the staffroom even once.
Perhaps , he thinks, he’s avoiding entering in case he sees me there.
Hoseok doesn’t realize he’s finished his soup until he’s scraping the bottom of the now empty bowl and Soyoon is covering her ears at the harsh noise. Simultaneously, as though he’s been in a daze for the past fifteen minutes, he only notices that she’s been attempting to make conversation with him for the length of that time as well. “Are you on something?” she asks, waving a hand in front of his face, more baffled than concerned. He doesn’t bother responding, instead heaving out a sigh and stands up before making his way to the sink to clean up. Soyoon watches him leave and shrugs. She’s known Hoseok long enough to know that he can’t keep secrets, and if it’s anything at all, he’ll surely share his troubles before the night is out.
He feels bad. Hoseok hates himself for thinking about this, but he can’t seem to thwart the thought that maybe Yoongi feels bad, too? It’s unlikely, but the idea that someone other than Jungkook is losing sleep over this is somewhat comforting. Either way, the situation is killing him, and if he doesn’t say something soon he might burst.
Hoseok sighs. He knows exactly what he has to do, even if it kills him.
10:50, Friday morning. Hoseok arrived at work early this morning for a reason he’d rather die than disclose - the reason being, to check Min Yoongi’s timetable. 10:50, Friday morning, the beginning of the twenty minute period where he has a break from classes. He teaches second and third period on Friday, meaning he arrives an hour later than Hoseok does and leaves an hour later, too. This is it, the ideal time for Hoseok to corner Yoongi in his otherwise vacant classroom and firmly tell him they need to have a serious discussion about a certain unnamed student and their combined need to put a stop to his meddling.
10:50, Friday morning, where Min Yoongi has decided to keep his class for an extra minute so they can finish taking down notes. The bell rings for the final time and without thinking to scan the halls for students that have already left the class, Hoseok swings the door open with such fervor he sends a cold draft into the room. “Min Yoongi,” he announces, a passion in his voice unlike anything anyone is used to hearing from the sweet, patient Jung Hoseok everyone is so used to knowing. His eyes dart straight to Yoongi’s desk at the top of the room. Yoongi looks unamused. He turns his head slowly, his eyes still on his class as if warning them not to react.
Then, he looks to Hoseok. “Mr. Jung.”
Hoseok peers his head in past the door to see rows of students all staring timidly at him. “Did I give any of you permission to gawk at Mr. Jung? Go on, get out of here already,” he says, his words clearly aimed at his students yet his gaze still firmly planted on Hoseok, who’s currently trying his hardest to manifest the ground opening up beneath him and swallowing him whole.
“I’ll email you the slides if you didn’t get them down,” Yoongi says as his class hesitantly put away their books and nervously brush past Hoseok in the doorway, doing their best to scurry away as fast as they can. One teacher is bad, but being around two is worse, especially when those two are renowned for being up in arms. “Close the door,” Yoongi orders once the last of his students have been liberated. Hoseok fumbles with the handle and closes the door, swallowing hard. When he and Soyoon devised this plan of action late last night, this is one avenue they forgot to cover, thus leaving Hoseok entirely unprepared for how he should react.
He’s definitely not so humiliated he wants to cry. No, not at all.
“Come here,” Yoongi says, and even though he’s a grown man and not a high school history student, Hoseok can’t help but worry he turned in an inadequate essay and is thus about to receive a scolding of such heights it’ll leave him miserably rethinking his life prospects.
Hoseok grabs a chair from one of the front rows and brings it to the side of Yoongi’s desk. His hands are so sweaty it almost falls out of his grasp but he holds it tight, placing it slightly closer to Yoongi’s seat than originally intended. Deciding that invading his personal space is actually a power move, Hoseok doesn’t move the chair back and instead sits down right where it is, so close that were he to retain correct posture their knees would be knocking against each other’s. Yoongi stares at him, waiting for him to speak, and maybe that’s just the resting position of his face, but Hoseok notices he doesn’t look happy.
“Hoseok,” he says, and this whole time his voice has been so monotone and austere it’s been almost uncanny. Hearing his name come from Yoongi’s mouth makes Hoseok shiver. “You think it’s appropriate to call me by my full name in front of my students?”
This bastard. “You think it’s appropriate to tell one of my students I’m a bad teacher?”
Yoongi gasps, then coughs in an attempt to cover up his shock. Goddamn Jeon Jungkook, he thinks. He knows it’s his own fault for blabbering in the first place, but he just got so caught up in the heat of the moment and didn’t know when to stop himself.
“No. I was in the wrong,” he admits, bobbing his head like an angry doll. “Yeah, you-”
Hoseok wasn’t expecting an apology that easily. That may have been the end goal of this exchange, sure, but some sadistic part of Hoseok hoped that he could prolong it more than two sentences. Physically or metaphorically, the mental image of Yoongi on his knees begging for forgiveness really did a lot for Hoseok. “Well, yeah. Thanks for admitting it,” he says, trying his hardest to think of some way to regain the upper hand. Think, Hoseok, think.
Ah! An idea strikes, and Hoseok feels like the smartest man in the world. He straightens his back and adjusts his cardigan, desperate for the proposal he’s about to make to be accepted. “Have dinner with me tonight.”
Yoongi gasps again. He doesn’t bother trying to disguise it this time, instead choosing to stare at Hoseok. He reaches up to take off his glasses, thinking that perhaps he’s seeing wrong, that this is all some strange fever dream and if he pinches himself hard enough he’ll wake up and not have to live in a reality where Jung Hoseok has just asked him on a date. Hoseok looks at him hopefully, flashing a devilish smile at him. Victory , Hoseok thinks. I’ve made him flustered.
“Do you have something wrong with you?” Yoongi asks, and Hoseok laughs, completely taken aback. “Yoongi, don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re very attractive!”
Yoongi looks away, struggling to catch his breath. This is bad - very, very bad. Nobody is allowed to see him in such a weakened state, especially not an enemy such as Hoseok, and Yoongi has to think fast to try and redeem himself. “You… What are you hoping to gain from this?” he asks, fixing the cuffs on his sleeves. Hoseok shrugs. “We work in the same building, we see each other everyday, what’s so wrong about seeing each other outside of it, too?”
“That would be great if I ever wanted to see you,” Yoongi says, laughing a bit. He’s aware of how harsh it sounds, and it’s not even true, but he couldn’t think of anything else in time and now he’s too committed to the bit to even consider acknowledging Hoseok’s point.
“How old are you again, Yoongi? You’re acting like a middle schooler,” he says, still smiling, and Yoongi scrunches his nose, the comment getting under his skin a bit. “ I’m the middle schooler? At least I don’t collect toys-”
Yoongi is barely able to get the words out of his mouth when Hoseok’s stood from his chair with such fervor it falls onto the ground behind him with a loud thud. The earth stops spinning for a moment as Hoseok grabs Yoongi’s collar with so much force his knuckles turn white, leaning down close to his face, so close Yoongi can feel him breathing on his mouth. Then, Hoseok drags Yoongi towards him, and whispers into his ear. “You leave my kaws toys out of this.”
For a moment Yoongi is frozen. He lets Hoseok continue to breathe on him, the hairs on his neck standing on end, until eventually he regains enough freewill to slowly nod. Just as Hoseok loosens his grip to let go, Yoongi grabs his wrist and holds him in place. Neither of them speak. Hoseok lifts his head a little to get a better view of Yoongi, and sees that his expression is entirely unreadable, just as stoic as it was when he first entered the classroom.
“Okay,” Yoongi says finally, nodding again. Hoseok quirks an eyebrow at him. “I’ll have dinner with you. Your place? Mine?”
Hoseok smiles. Fastest way to a man’s heart is his stomach, and the fastest way to a man’s stomach is… Anyways. “That’s ambitious. I was thinking we could go to a restaurant, since there’s less chance of you poisoning me that way. So, what time do you want me to make the reservation? I’ll pick you up around seven, maybe?” he asks, and while both parties act completely calm, this is the most conflicted either of them have ever felt in their entire adult lives.
Yoongi bites his tongue. If he lets Hoseok choose the place to eat, then that puts him entirely at his disposal, and the chances of him retaining the advantage will be greatly lessened if he allows Hoseok to feel in control. But if he suggests switching positions and choosing the venue himself, then that leads to the equally dangerous possibility of Yoongi picking somewhere either too formal or informal, a fate which would also give Hoseok the upper hand as it’d lead him to thinking Yoongi’s taste is poor, thus all of his opinions are less valuable. Still, is it worth the risk to fall into submission? Is there a third option? Even if there is, what’s the chance of it working in his favour either way?
Third option… Yoongi smiles. “You can choose the restaurant, I’ll pick you up. Seven works fine for me.”
This way, Yoongi can act as though he’s doing Hoseok a service while simultaneously doing nothing but burdening him. And while Hoseok may be falsely lulled into thinking he’s in control, he’s in the palm of Yoongi’s hand, exactly where he needs to be. Yoongi mentally praises himself as a genius whose wits shall forever remain unmatched. He looks at Hoseok’s eyes, takes a quick glance at his lips, then, upon realizing they’re still holding each other still, Yoongi relaxes, letting his fingers briefly caress Hoseok’s hand before falling down by his side. Finally withdrawn from his madness, Hoseok casts his gaze to where he’s been touched and hesitantly lets go of Yoongi’s collar before taking a polite step back from him.
“Great,” Hoseok says, nodding at him. Yoongi returns the gesture. “That’s perfect. I’ll see you then, Min Yoongi,” he says, and Yoongi swivels his chair around to allocate himself neatly behind the center of the desk, the same way he’d sit when teaching a class. “Right, see you then. You can leave now,” he says, and gestures to the door without looking up.
“Do you ever wonder why you’re still single?” Hoseok asks as moves the chair back to its original position, and without a second thought Yoongi shoots a casual finger gun at him. “It’s by choice. Now, please get out. I don’t want any more students to see us in the same room,” he says, and Hoseok laughs, running a hand through his hair. “Of course,” he says, and opens the door to leave. He knows he’s overstayed his welcome - not that he was ever welcomed in the first place - but something inexplicable makes him feel obligated to stay. While his presence is silent and often startling, prolonged exposure makes Yoongi a lot less intimidating and a lot more amusing.
Somewhat cute, almost?
Hoseok scrunches his nose at the thought. One thing is sure in his mind - anyone that committed to being an asshole deserves at least some form of admiration. Lost in his own thoughts, Hoseok forgets he’s still standing in the doorway, and when he hears Yoongi’s voice he flinches. “Close the door already,” he orders, a tinge of annoyance in his tone. Hoseok nods, and winks at him before quickly scurrying off. The door closes and all Yoongi can do is sigh. His first date in years, and it’s with Jung Hoseok. Of course it is.