Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In retrospect, Namjoon should’ve known his brothers were traitors.

They’d always been sneaky, but this was pure, unadulterated betrayal of the worst kind. How could they do this to him? When his mother had sat the three of them down (for an “intervention” she’d claimed, although Namjoon thought “interference” was more fitting term) and laid out her ridiculous condition, they’d decided to rebel by showing up to Jeju as a united front. If their mother was going to be stubborn about her decision, then they would be equally stubborn about theirs. The Kim brothers were not going to give in or give up. They were going to fight this tyrannical turn of events until the perpetrator herself gave up on her inane plans. That had been their promise to each other. Their firm, irrefutable promise.

And yet, here he was, gaping at the utterly disloyal liars he was unfortunate enough to be related to as they stuck a knife in his back and whirled it around like a damn fidget spinner.

Weak-ass motherfuckers.

He glared openly at the offending persons. They had the audacity to shrug back at him, as if he was the one being unreasonable. The sheer nerve. Namjoon had half a mind to drown both Seokjin and Taehyung in the sea. Or…replace all their pillows with foot rests. 

Foot rests? Really? That’s all you got?

Shut up, he bit back at the snarky voice in his head. It’s not like he’d had a lot of time to plan his revenge. He hadn’t even been aware he’d need to take revenge in the first place. How was he supposed to know both his brothers were going to show up with dates hanging off their arms when they had specifically told him that they were not even dreaming of dating anyone?

He should’ve nipped this whole absurd situation in the bud a week ago, when his mother had first lost her mind. She’d sounded so serious over the phone Namjoon had been convinced that someone in his family had died. The dog, maybe. Or his arthritic uncle with the penchant for fast sports cars. Either way, he hadn’t expected to be sat down on the couch and served with the most outrageous ultimatum in the history of ultimatums.

“Either show up with a date for the family vacation or let me set you up with my friend’s son. It’s a pretty simple task, there’s no need to be so dramatic about it. Taehyung, get your jaw off the floor dear, we haven’t vacuumed the carpet yet.”

“Eomma,” Seokjin started gently, as if he was addressing an easily spooked animal, “You can’t possibly expect all of us to fall in love in a week. That’s…unreasonable.”

Mrs. Kim scoffed, “Love? Who said anything about love? All I want is for my three handsome, perfectly wonderful sons to quit being miserable hermits and start putting themselves out there. Love will only come along if you like someone first. And at the rate you three are going, I foresee a very lonely, very grandchild-less future for myself. Which I will not let happen. I’ve tried and tried to go about this in more subtle ways, I really have. Unfortunately, you’ve finally made me run out of patience. So now these are your remaining options. Take it or leave it.”

“Leave it!” Taehyung yelled, “I choose to leave it!”

“Honey, I was clearly just being nice. “Leave it” isn’t actually an option. For any of you.”

Namjoon sank deeper into the couch as his brothers on either side continued to argue with their unrelenting mother. He knew she wasn’t going to budge. The firm set of her jaw told him that much. The rest of her features had settled into the patented Kim Family “You Can Argue With The Wall” face. She’d made up her mind to go through with this plan of hers, no matter how much backlash she got for it. He also knew his brothers weren’t going to stop arguing with her any time soon. They were of the same kin after all, the same streak of defiance ran through them all.

He sighed. The cons of being a family of stubborn mules.

“Eomma,” his calm voice cut through Seokjin’s angry rapping, “I get where you’re coming from. But we all have good reason for why we’re not dating anyone right now. Taehyung and I are focusing on our careers. We don’t have time for these things. We’ll date someone when the time is right, okay? Don’t worry so much about it. And please don’t make us do something insane like pick a date off the street to bring to a family vacation.”

“Yah,” Seokjin smacked his shoulder, “Why did you only mention the two of you? Did I cease to exist in the last five seconds? I used to change your diapers, you little shit.”

Namjoon snorted, “First, attempting to undo my diapers behind our parents’ back doesn’t count as changing them. Second, we all know exactly why you’re not dating anyone, Jin hyung.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Mrs. Kim cried out “Language!” just as Taehyung coughed unsubtly into his hand, “Yoongi.”

“You’re all ridiculous. I am not kidnapping some guy to bring along and ruin my self-care week in Jeju simply because my mother has decided to become some kind of dictatorial matchmaker,” Seokjin snapped, the tips of his ears blushed a tell-tale red.

“Self-care will be the last of your worries if you don’t do as I say, Kim Seokjin,” Mrs. Kim snapped back.

“Ooooh she pulled out the full name,” Taehyung whispered, “Hyung’s in it now.”

Said hyung stood up abruptly, puffing his chest out and proclaiming, “We’re not kids, eomma. You can’t control our lives like this.”

Mrs. Kim leaned back into her armchair. “Watch me,” she said.

Seokjin made an aggravated noise before rounding on his brothers, “And you two? You have nothing to say about this?”

Namjoon shrugged. He certainly had a lot to say. But the plan that was rapidly coming together in his head could only be said out loud once their mother was out of earshot.

While Namjoon plotted, the youngest Kim made a valiant attempt at exempting himself. “Eomma,” he started, bottom lip pushed out and eyes stretched wider than the Pacific, “Me don’t wanna.”

“You’re a grown man, Taehyung. That technique doesn’t work once your balls have dropped,” Mrs. Kim stated flatly.

“Oh come on!” Taehyung flopped backwards (and into Namjoon, who received his brother’s considerable weight with a soft “oof”).

“Do you have something to add to this pointless debate, Joonie?” Mrs. Kim asked, “Get it over with quickly so I can make it to my spa appointment in time. My neck’s been killing me all week.”

“I’m good,” Namjoon replied, earning himself a withering stare from Seokjin (that he returned) and a devastating pout from Taehyung (that he ignored).

“Wonderful. You can all moan and groan about this now, but Hoseok is a lovely boy and if any of you do end up dateless on the trip, I know you’ll thank me for introducing him to you,” Mrs. Kim said, standing up and brushing invisible dust off her clothes before disappearing through the doors.

“I’m good? Tell me Namjoon, how exactly are you good? I know for a fact you haven’t gone on a single date since Jisung and that relationship ended during the Stone Age,” Seokjin crossed his arms as he looked down at his brother.

Namjoon rolled his eyes. His hyung was always so dramatic.

“We don’t have to take part in eomma’s weird Bachelor fantasy, hyung. Calm down.”

Bad move. He should’ve known telling his already enraged hyung to calm down would only bring about Stage 2 of the Seokjin Fury Scale - Decibel Escalation.

“Calm down? Our mother’s threatening to pimp us out to some stranger and you’re telling me to calm down?” Seokjin yelled, “I don’t know about you but I am not interested in entertaining this archaic arranged marriage scheme. Like, what is this? Bridgerton? Hell, even those snotty English people gave their kids more choice than our mother is giving us! What the heck am I supposed to do now? Materialise a date out of thin air? I know I’m handsome and I could probably find some guy in the next ten minutes but why the fuck should I have to I do that? I can’t spend my annual vacation entertaining some desperate bozo I don’t even know. Fuck, what if I have to spend my annual vacation entertaining some desperate bozo I don’t even know? What if this Hotteok is the desperate bozo? I don’t fucking care, I am not sacrificing my one vacation just because our mother has clearly lost her marbles!”

A vein in Seokjin’s neck popped dangerously as he reached the end of his rant and let out a heavy exhale. Taehyung blinked for a second before breaking out into applause, “I think that was your longest rap verse yet, hyung! Well done!”

Namjoon joined in, “Flawless execution except for the part where you called the guy Hotteok. Pretty sure she said it was Hoseok.”

“It could be fucking Kim Namgil and I still wouldn’t want to marry him,” Seokjin muttered.

“You don’t have to. Hyung, listen to me. Eomma mentioned setting us up with her friend’s son, right? One son. So if all three of us turn up without dates, what’s she going to do? Clone him? Cut him into pieces? Set up some kind of incestuous polyamorous relationship?”

“Ew,” Taehyung wrinkled his nose.

“Exactly,” Namjoon continued smugly, “If all three of us show up without dates, she’s not going to be able to do anything about it. All we have to do is not let her scare us into being idiots. I get why that might be hard for you guys but try to do your best.”

Both Taehyung and Seokjin squawked at that. “I don’t trust her though. She might just find a way to clone the Hoseok guy for all we know. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life twinning husbands with my brothers,” Taehyung whined.

“That’s your concern? Not the complete lack of autonomy over our love lives?” Seokjin said incredulously.

“It’s not like you have a love life to exercise any autonomy over,” Taehyung mocked.

“Oh and you do?”

The youngest flicked his hair back with all the sass of a movie star, “I’m doing just fine. You should probably get to it though, grandpa.”

“Why you little–”

Namjoon intervened before his brothers could get into the inevitable wrestling match, “Can we all just promise to show up to Jeju as we are so that our mother doesn’t forcibly cast us in her own version of Business Proposal?”

Taehyung cast him a disappointed look, “That’s the fake dating trope, hyung. Not an arranged marriage. How can you be an actor’s brother and not know your drama lore?”

There it was. That familiar headache that came with being around more than one of his family members for an extended period of time. If he stayed here for any longer, he would leave this house with significantly fewer brain cells than he’d arrived with. He had to save himself and he had to do it quickly.

“Just promise! No dates for Jeju!”

“Promise,” Seokjin sighed.

“Fine. Promise,” Taehyung mumbled. “But if it doesn’t work I swear to god Joon hyung, I’m going to make you attend every premiere of mine till the end of time. In couture.”

Namjoon shuddered. Fifty thousand cameras flashing in his face while he stood there stuffed into an itchy suit? No thank you.

“It’s going to work. Just stick to the plan.”

That’s all they had to do. Stick. To. The. Plan. Simple. Yet clearly not simple enough for his two knuckle-headed brothers. What part of “don’t bring dates” had they not understood? If they had even an iota of cleverness in their cotton-stuffed brains, they wouldn’t be standing in front of him with a man each clutched to their sides. Well, Taehyung’s date was clutching to him, Seokjin’s date (which, how on earth had he convinced Yoongi hyung of all people to go along with this farcical nonsense?) was staring resolutely at his own shoes, a blush reddening the back of his neck.

Meanwhile Namjoon was left gawking from the sidelines as his very delighted mother crushed her sons and their “boyfriends” into hugs.

“This is Park Jimin,” Taehyung squeezed his date to himself, despite there being not a single molecule of space left between them, “My boyfriend.”

Wow. Namjoon didn’t know how he’d managed to do it but he had to admit that his baby brother had certainly snagged himself an insultingly attractive man. Between the bleached blonde hair, the cherubic face and the honeyed voice, Park Jimin looked and sounded like something straight out of a fantasy. His eyes scrunched into crescent moons as he laughed at something Taehyung said, a testament to his acting skills because Namjoon knew for a fact nothing his brother said could possibly be that funny. 

“It’s lovely to meet you Jimin,” his mother greeted warmly. Everyone in this family has their personality switching skills down pat, Namjoon thought. The woman who was currently beaming at Jimin’s equally luminous smile was a far cry from the maddeningly stoic version of his mother from a week ago.

He watched as the beam turned from Jimin towards Yoongi and Seokjin, who came forward to greet Mrs. Kim (or rather Seokjin strode forward and dragged a grimacing Yoongi along with him).

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Mrs. Kim teased, “Is that really our Yoongi-ah I see?”

“Hello, eomonim,” Yoongi said quietly, his expression softening as he returned her smile with a bracket-shaped one of his own. Seokjin threw an arm around Yoongi’s shoulders, the colour of his ears rivalling the ripest genetically-modified tomatoes, “Not your Yoongi-ah anymore, eomma. This is my Yoongi-chi now.”

Eugh. This was gross. Namjoon was severely grossed out right now. He’d grown up with Yoongi, for heaven’s sake. They’d spent their teens messing around on GarageBand together. Namjoon’s first book of famous paintings, the thing that kicked off his dream of becoming a curator, had been a birthday gift from this hyung. Yoongi had bought him his first beer (that he’d spat out immediately), his first pair of rollerskates (that he’d broken in two days), his first, second and third Kaws figurine (that he still proudly displayed in his office) and his beloved Rolex (currently wrapped around his wrist). All his life, Yoongi had been a permanent fixture, a part of his closest circle. Sure, he’d entered it by virtue of being best friends with Seokjin but over time, he’d become more than Seokjin’s cool, grouchy friend, he’d become their Yoongi hyung– reluctant recipient of Taehyung’s koala hugs, maker of Namjoon’s favourite kimchi jjigae, Seokjin’s most effective mute button. In fact, their childhood home still had a designated pair of worn-out slippers just for Yoongi – an enduring sign that he was as much a Kim as any of them.

Now, standing here and seeing Seokjin and Yoongi claim to be boyfriends…it felt like he was watching two family members date each other. Wow, maybe his “incestuos relationship” hypothesis hadn’t been so far off after all.

Mrs. Kim clearly did not share this sentiment. She cooed at the couple (ew, couple) and ushered them into the house. Namjoon tagged sullenly behind them, hoping his brothers could telepathically hear every curse he was throwing in their direction.

“Joonie,” Mrs. Kim’s sugary tone made his hackles rise, “Hoseok should be here soon. I’ll be busy overseeing the lunch preparations so give him a warm welcome on my behalf when he arrives, okay?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. In his anger at his brothers’ betrayal, he’d forgotten what it meant for him now that he was the only one left without a date. 

“Eomma,” he pleaded but his mother waved him off. He was too late.

“And help him with his bags. We don’t want our guest to have to do any work while he’s with us.”

Goddammit. His fate was sealed. His peaceful week in Jeju would now be spent being subjected to his mother’s matchmaking tactics. With some stranger who probably sucked. After all, why would a reasonable person agree to this bizarre arranged marriage scheme? And without knowing which brother he would be matched to either. God, this Hoseok was definitely a weirdo. Possibly an ugly weirdo. 

Okay, Namjoon. You can be angry but don’t be shallow. Remember, beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.

It certainly looked like he would be beholding a whole lot this week. Beholding his own doom, that is. All thanks to the two spineless disgraces that were his siblings.

The island sun was scorching the back of his neck. He peered into the distance. There was no sign of an approaching car anywhere. He decided to wait for Hoseok's arrival in the shade of the patio, digging his phone out of his pocket and snuggling into a wicker chair. At least he could get some important work done while he waited for the dumb, boring wacko Jung Hoseok was definitely going to be.

The Amazon app blinked open on the screen. Namjoon smirked. First order of business: order some footrests.

The villa was gorgeous. Framed by tall, swaying palm trees, with the roof artfully designed to look thatched (rustic , in rich people speak) and a large swimming pool brimming with crystal clear water that gleamed invitingly under the rays of the afternoon sun – it left Hoseok awed, to say the least.

He stepped out of the car, looking up at the cream-coloured house. Warm yellow lights shone from the inside, flooding the patio with a golden glow. He could hear laughter and chatter even from all the way out in the driveway; it made him crack a smile. His mother had praised the Kims to no end, “They’re a lovely family, Hoseokie. You won’t feel out of place for even a second.” So far, it seemed like she hadn’t been wrong in her judgement

What she had not told him, until the very last second while he was loading his suitcases into the car, was this: this whole vacation, the seemingly generous invite, the constant stream of praise from his mother - it was all a fucking trap. 

And he - poor, naive, unsuspecting Hoseok - was the prey.

Perhaps he should’ve seen it coming. He knew his mother and Mrs. Kim had been fast friends since their college days, but they had never extended such personal invitations to each other’s families. When his mother first told him that the Kims wanted him to join them on vacation in Jeju, his bewildered questioning had been dodged with (suspiciously quick) enticing comments like: “Imagine how nice Jeju will be this time of the year!” and “You need to take a vacation, sweetheart, and what better place than the beach?” and “Have you seen those Kim boys recently? So handsome, all of them.”

That last one, he was ashamed to admit, might have been the most effective. He couldn’t be blamed for it though, who wouldn’t enjoy an all-expense paid trip to the beach that came with sufficient eye candy? Not even the straights would be able to turn it down. Probably. 

Oh for fuck’s sake, his sister was right. He really was a useless gay. 

To his credit, he had tried to get out of this situation. He’d stared at his mother in shock for a full minute before yelling, “Eomma! Are you seriously selling me off to the Kims?”

She’d laughed airily, “Don’t be so dramatic dear, it’s just a way for you to meet some nice boys. Kim Yeoreum was telling me her youngest is an actor. You like actors, don’t you?”

“Not enough to marry them!”

Mrs. Jung had tutted, “This attitude will get you nowhere, Hoseok. Don’t think so much about the marriage part, just think of this as a nice vacation with a sweet family. You’re the one who’s always saying you need some time off work. Well, here’s your chance!”

“My chance? Eomma, you can’t be serious. I am not going on this trip if this is all just a ploy for you and Mrs. Kim to play matchmaker for people who do not want to be matched!”

“You’re the only one with a problem, darling. Her sons are not protesting, are they? Anyway, it’s too late to turn the invitation down now. They’re already on their way to Jeju and they’ll be expecting you when they get there. We can’t be rude.”

With that encouraging statement, Mrs. Jung had all but shoved Hoseok into the car and sent him off to become some weird, twisted version of a cheesy drama lead. He’d spent the entire ride and then the flight stewing in his own disbelief, wondering how desperate the Kims were and what exactly was wrong with the sons for them to agree to this hare-brained marriage scheme in the first place.

“Oh my god, what if they’re all serial killers?” he’d whispered to himself in the plane, earning a concerned side-eye from his neighbour, who then proceeded to plug in their headphones and ignore him for the rest of the flight. Possibly for the best. The serial killer theory had only been one of many he had formulated out loud for the next hour or so.

If the Kims were in fact deranged murderers, at least he would die a picturesque death, he thought to himself now, running an appreciative eye over the Kims’ holiday home. While he mulled over exactly how the Kim brothers would suffocate him in his sleep tonight, a man peeked out of the front door, “Jung Hoseok?”

“Yeah– oh. Kim Taehyung?”

Hoseok gaped as Movie Star Kim Taehyung sauntered towards him, the same boxy smile that he’d had seen splashed across the internet currently spread across his (very real, very tangible) face. While he’d known that Taehyung was a part of this family, he hadn’t expected his (possibly insured) smile to be the first one greeting him as he stepped into this fever dream of a vacation.

Maybe he really had wandered into a drama. And not a bad one, he conceded, not if this was the man he was paired opposite.

“Hi! Yep, that’s me. It’s nice to meet you! You’re super hot, has anyone ever told you that? Wait hold on, let me get your bags,” Taehyung chirped, grabbing one of Hoseok’s suitcases in either hand. He jerked his head towards the villa, “Come on! I’ll give you all the necessary family insight you need on the way to your room.”

He seemed sweet. If Hoseok had to pick a brother, Movie Star Kim Taehyung was definitely establishing himself as a strong candidate. That is until a blonde-haired man with a face that could only be described as “ wow ” greeted Taehyung at the door with, “Hey Taeh–babe. Your mom says lunch is ready.”

“Hey there! You must be Jung Hoseok. I’m Park Jimin,” the blonde man extended a hand and Hoseok shook it. 

“My boyfriend,” Taehyung added, causing Jimin’s smile to tighten momentarily. Hoseok chose to ignore it. He didn’t know these people. Inserting himself into relationship problems from the get-go would probably not be the wisest move if he wanted to navigate the week with minimal casualties.

What he could do is pack away his drama dreams since the youngest Kim was clearly taken. And by a very, very, very attractive man. Gosh, Hoseok didn’t know what was going on between them, but he hoped Taehyung wouldn’t fumble the bag with this one. They made a cute couple, he thought, watching the two of them roll his suitcases into the foyer together after waving away his protests.

Taehyung clapped his hands together, making Hoseok jump and snap his head around from where he’d been admiring the homey decor.

“Okay! It’s time for Kim Family Survival Tips! Number one, eat fast. We’re all pigs and if you dilly-dally, you’ll have to go to bed with an empty stomach. Number two, do not mention fishing in front of Jin hyung and Yoo– his boyfriend Yoonie hyung, wow that’s weird to say, anyway don’t because they will not stop talking about that one fishing trip they took in college. Bo- ring . Number three, if my uncle mentions his sports car, hand him this.”

A piece of paper was shoved at him. Hoseok read through it – a detailed collection of statistics related to speeding-related deaths. What the fuck?

Taehyung didn’t explain. “Number four, don’t use Byulyi noona’s coconut shampoo. She’s freakily territorial about it for some reason. Or if you do, just blame it on someone else. Preferably Jin hyung. Number five, if you don’t like noise, it is perfectly acceptable to bring headphones around with you. We’re kinda loud. But we don’t bite. Well. Not usually. Number six, if we lose Joon hyung, go to the nearest painting, plant or particularly small animal that you find, he’ll probably be loitering around somewhere. And number seven, the most important, if anyone asks you who your favourite Kim is, the answer should always be Kim Taehyung. The end. Got it?”

Hoseok didn’t think he got anything out of that whole monologue but he gave a small nod anyway. Why did this family come with survival tips? What the hell kind of week had he inadvertently signed up for?

“And now you can forget all of that and just stick by me, the other Kim family noob,” Jimin declared, slipping an arm through Hoseok’s and tugging him forward. 

“Hey,” Taehyung pouted, “I worked hard on that introduction.”

“I know, Taetae. You did a great job,” Jimin agreed with a soothing smile, which instantly replaced the pout with a dopey grin. Oh my god, they were so cute. Hoseok had to will himself not to coo out loud.

“Hey, you’re hot! Damn, maybe I should’ve dumped Yoongi-chi before this trip,” a booming voice declared.

“Wow, thanks,” came a dry reply.

Hoseok turned to see two (again, incredibly attractive) men walk into the foyer. The taller one of them spread his arms wide and grinned at him, “Welcome to Bachelor in Jeju, Jung Hoseok.”

It made him snort. ‘Bachelor in Jeju’ was a pretty accurate description of his predicament. Although as far as Hoseok could see, he was the only viable contestant. Unless either of these two men were also on the market, in which case Hoseok would be happy to play the part of suitor. 

“Your gameshow host persona gets worse by the day,” the shorter man commented. He waved awkwardly, “I’m Min Yoongi.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Hoseok replied amiably, flashing him a smile and delighting in the way Yoongi’s cheeks pinked. Aww, he was adorable. With his feline eyes and button nose, he reminded Hoseok of a tiny, flannel-clad kitten. 

The taller man cleared his throat loudly. Hoseok bit back an amused smile as the man snaked a possessive arm around Yoongi’s waist, pulling the kitten-man into himself.

“Kim Seokjin,” the man offered, “Otherwise known as Yoongi-chi’s sugar daddy.” His tone was jovial but Hoseok caught the gleam of a challenge in his eyes.

“Still weird as fuck,” Taehyung muttered and then yelped when Jimin’s elbow caught him square in the gut.

Seokjin and Yoongi… oh. Jin hyung and his boyfriend Yoonie hyung. This was them. Of course. 

“It’s very nice to meet you too, Seokjin-ssi,” Hoseok bowed. Seokjin’s gaze softened, “Of course it is. Now, follow me.”

Hoseok let himself be led to his room by his entourage, feeling terribly endeared by their shoving and bickering and giggling. He wondered how long Seokjin and Yoongi had been dating. They revolved around each other with an easy familiarity that indicated years of closeness, but the way they blushed when they so much as bumped elbows suggested that perhaps the romance was still in its nascent stage.

He fought the urge to squeal after Yoongi and Seokjin brushed hands for the tenth time and instantly whipped their heads in different directions, pretending to be immersed in various corners of Hoseok’s room. A very nice room, with an attached balcony and a giant bed he would pounce onto as soon as his hosts left and he could be off his best behaviour. 

Taehyung and Jimin were different from the other couple in that they didn’t instantly blush at the other’s touch, but they did seem to have trouble being casually affectionate. They appeared oddly stiff at times, as if they hadn’t internalised the fact that as two people in a relationship, they were allowed to touch each other. Hoseok saw Taehyung give Jimin an awkward pat on the arm for hoisting Hoseok’s suitcases onto a table, to which Jimin responded with a reciprocal pat on Taehyung’s arm. Kinda weird, but Hoseok wasn’t going to poke at it.

None of your business. Just focus on your own problems.

Or well, problem. Singular. Now that he knew two of the three Kim brothers were already dating other people, all Hoseok had to do was deal with the remaining son, which was truly a less daunting prospect than fending off three possible matches. If he was cute, and there was a high chance he would be if both his siblings looked like that, Hoseok may not even have to push back against the matchmaking with too much force. After all, what harm would it do to flirt with a cute boy on vacation? He may not end up marrying the guy (because no way in hell was he about to let their mothers see their crazy plans through) but he was sure he could tolerate him for a single week. That wouldn’t be too bad, right?

“Okay, you’re all set,” Taehyung said, “Come down to the backyard when you’re ready, eomma’s doing a whole barbeque thing out there.”

“That sounds cool,” Hoseok said.

Seokjin snorted, “It’s devious, is what it is. She’s trying to trap you and these two,” he pointed at Yoongi and Jimin, “into staying with us forever. Food and hospitality are simply her weapons of choice.”

“Well you had to get your manipulative skills from somewhere,” Yoongi drawled, eliciting a fond chuckle from Seokjin.

“Evil masterminds run in the family, it’s true,” he said, booping Yoongi’s nose with the tip of his finger. Hoseok had never seen anyone’s nose blush before but he swore Yoongi’s nose seemed pinker than it had been after Seokjin touched it. 

“Explains how Taehyung always wiggles his way into choosing the takeout menu,” Jimin supplied, “It’s his villain genetics.”

“I pick the menu because you are a heathen who only gets the spiciest food,” Taehyung complained, “I had diarrhoea for a whole week after I tried that cursed jjampong you ordered.”

Hoseok laughed, “Does Taehyung-ssi have a monopoly over all your dates too?”

Taehyung and Jimin stared at him. “Dates?” Jimin repeated.

“Yeah, you know. Like when you guys go out...who picks the place?”

“Oh um, T-taehyung, yeah,” Jimin laughed, a touch nervously, “Obviously.”

“Aww next time let Jimin-ssi pick,” Hoseok mock-scolded. Taehyung shrugged, “We’ll see.”

An awkward air settled inside the room. Seokjin eyed Jimin and Taehyung shrewdly, his eyebrow raised. Hoseok couldn't help but feel like he’d misstepped somehow, though he couldn’t pin down what it was that he’d done wrong. His question had been an innocent one and yet it looked like he’d touched a nerve. Ignited an old quarrel or something. Shit, had Hoseok made it worse? He wondered if he should apologise. For what though?

He was saved from further dilemmas by Seokjin who laced his fingers through Yoongi’s and proclaimed that he was starving. “See you downstairs, Hoseok-ssi. Actually, enough with this formal nonsense. You’re going to be here for the whole week, aren’t you? Just call me hyung.”

“Me too,” Yoongi added, “Yoongi-ssi makes me feel like I’m back at the office.”

“Thanks hyungs,” Hoseok smiled gratefully, “I’ll freshen up and head down in a bit.”

“See you soon, Hoseok hyung,” Taehyung said cheerfully, traipsing after the others with Jimin on his heels.

Once the welcome party had left, Hoseok let out a relieved exhale. They all seemed nice, but there was something going on with them, something generating a weird undercurrent of unease. It could just be his mind playing tricks on him, a combination of exhaustion and discomfort at being dropped into what he knew was an elaborate matchmaking plan set up by their meddling mothers. Either way, it was nice to have some time to recalibrate.

Or so he thought.

“Who are you?”

Hoseok looked up at the intruder. Of course he was handsome too. Was anyone in this family or its immediate circle anything below a full-blown ten? Where were the average-looking people? Had every member of the Kim family won the genetic lottery and then proceeded to fraternise only with their fellow winners?

“Jung Hoseok.”

“Oh. It’s you.”

The way the guy said it sounded so dreary, like he was resigning himself to Hoseok’s presence. Which, rude. He didn’t even know Hoseok. Why was he acting like he didn’t like him already? Being tall and hot with arms that strained against your sleeves and endless legs and sharp collarbones that peeked through their v-necked tee did not give anyone licence to be a dick. 

“Yes it is. And you are?”

Tall, Buff and Gorgeous sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose, “Kim Namjoon. Or according to my mother, your future husband.”

He wishes. Hoseok didn’t want to marry someone who wilted at the mere sight of him. He wanted the playful jabs and the unconscious touching and the dopey grins. Not…whatever this was.

“Not if I can help it,” he remarked. Namjoon perked up, “Hold up, seriously?”

And okay. The way his face lit up was mildly insulting. He didn’t have to look that happy about not having to marry Hoseok. At least pretend to be a little disappointed, even if just for politeness’ sake.

“I mean, I don’t really enjoy being tied up and delivered to my potential fiancé’s doorstep,” Hoseok said haughtily, “I’m perfectly capable of managing my love life without my mother’s help.”

“That’s great! Good for you. Now can you repeat these exact words to my mother?” 

Namjoon looked so hopeful (and cute), his hands clasped in front of him and his eyes wide. Hoseok gave him an incredulous stare, “Of course not!”

“What? Why? You said it yourself, you don’t want to marry me!”

“I can’t offend the host on the first day! I have to be here for a week! I can’t go up to the woman who invited me for the apparent purpose of meeting her son and tell her that I don’t want to be here at all.”

“Why not?” Namjoon whined.

Hoseok crossed his arms, “Because it’s rude, Namjoon-ssi.”

“Look, you don’t want to be here, right? I’ll book you a ticket back to Seoul. The driver will take you to the airport. You don’t have to worry about anything! Just tell my mother the truth.”

The nerve of this guy! Was he seriously trying to shoo Hoseok away from his overdue beach vacation? What a prick!

“First of all, I came here for a vacation and I’m not leaving without one. And second, if you’re so against the idea of us getting married, then why don’t you come clean? She’s your mother.”

Namjoon made a face at him that clearly said “Are you stupid?” It incensed Hoseok even further. What he’d suggested was a valid option, there was no need to act so condescending about it.

“Do you really think I haven’t tried? I’ve been bugging her all day, she just won’t budge. It wasn’t even supposed to come to this, I had such a good plan in place and it would’ve worked perfectly if my stupid brothers hadn’t gone and ruined it all.”

In Hoseok’s (extremely correct) opinion, Namjoon’s brothers were much nicer than him. He didn’t see how they could’ve done anything wrong in this situation. They were already in relationships, it was obvious that Namjoon would be the only one eligible for this matchmaking business. Why was he blaming them?

“You know what, never mind. I’ll think of something else. I always do,” Namjoon said, shaking his head. He levelled Hobi with one last disgruntled stare, “Come down soon if you want any lunch. We’re pigs.”

“So I’ve heard,” Hoseok replied curtly.

He imagined lasers shooting out of his eyes as he glared at Namjoon’s retreating back. What an ass. Hoseok would never marry anyone like him. Not in a million years. Yuck.

Lunch was a loud affair, much like any other gathering of too many Kims.

A long table laid with enough food to feed an army had been set up in the backyard. Namjoon breathed in the rich scent of sizzling meat, his annoyance at Jung Hoseok dimming slightly at the prospect of eating well. It’s not like mulling over it would tell him why that guy was being such a dumbass about this anyway.

First he says he doesn’t want to be here then he refuses to leave? How does that make sense?

Namjoon rolled his eyes. He’d been so right about the guy. With that attitude, Jung Hoseok definitely didn’t have people lining out the door to marry him. No wonder his mother had decided to interfere. 

He decided to let it go for now. Focus on the family he was supposed to be vacationing with.

“Yah! Quit poking me!” Moonbyul shouted next to him. 

“Quit hogging all the space!” Taehyung shouted back.

“What do you mean you’ve never had a drink? Aren’t you like twenty-five?” Seokjin exclaimed.

Soobin made a face, “I’m fifteen, hyung.”

“Same thing!”

“I’m sure it’s cute but a cloud light is not the appropriate light fixture for night time reading. Have you considered a dimmable lam– yah, did you just snore at me?”

“Keep going Yoongi hyung, I’m almost asleep,” Eunchae yawned, eyes fluttering shut.

“Yeoreum-ah, this pork looks a little undercooked,” his aunt frowned.

Mrs. Kim scoffed, “Not everyone likes their meat cooked to ashes, unnie.”

“–and that’s why the miles on that car are so efficient. Did I tell you about the paint job–”

“–um, I’ve been told to give you this,” Jimin handed Uncle Jaesung a piece of paper.

“Speeding deaths? What does this mean?”

“I don’t know, Taehyung can you help me out–”

“–oh yeah, it’s for your own good samchon, why don’t you give it a read?”

“These leaves don’t look clean enough,” Aunt Gyeol wrinkled her nose.

Mrs. Kim looked murderous, “Do you really have to nitpick every single thing–”

“–I’m just trying to help–”

“–it would help if you shut up–”

“–why are you so stubborn–”

“–as if you’re a saint–”

“The meat is burning!” Eunchae shrieked and all heads whipped to the barbeque. Mrs. Kim hurriedly picked out the salvageable pieces onto a plate, “You distracted me!”

Namjoon decided to forgo his family and focus on the food. He reached out for a plate of pajeon, picking out the biggest piece he could find and holding it to his mouth before it was unceremoniously slapped out of his hand.

“You can’t eat before the guests!” Mrs. Kim glared at him.

“Great,” Namjoon groaned, “When do you think His Highness Jung Hoseok will grace us with his presence?”

As if on cue, a bright “Hi everyone!” came from behind him. Namjoon turned his head to find Hoseok hopping down the steps into the backyard, his smile turned up to maximum brightness.

“Oh damn, he’s hot,” Moonbyul whistled.

Namjoon side-eyed her, “You’re a lesbian.”

“A lesbian with eyes.”

More like a lesbian with no loyalty, Namjoon thought. He ran his eyes over Hoseok’s white shirt, left open at the collar, and his tan shorts giving way to lean thighs. Maybe he was a little bit hot, he conceded begrudgingly. How inconvenient.

“Hoseok-ah! Welcome, welcome. How was your flight?” Mrs. Kim enveloped the guest in her arms.

“Short, thankfully,” Hoseok replied with a little laugh. 

The table laughed with him. Except for Namjoon, who had a much higher standard for humour than the rest of his traitorous family.

“Oppa you can sit next to me!” Eunchae piped up. Hoseok walked over and pinched her cheeks, eliciting a very un-Eunchae-like giggle from the girl. Namjoon raised his eyebrows at her. She stuck her tongue out in reply. Brat.

Strike that. Extreme brat. Hoseok sitting next to Eunchae meant that he was directly opposite Namjoon, a realisation that dawned on him when he looked up from the pajeon he wasn’t allowed to eat and found Hoseok’s disdainful gaze aimed right at him.

“Aigoo, you’ve grown up to be such a handsome boy,” Aunt Gyeoul cooed, “The last time I saw you, you were shorter than our Soobinie.”

“I grew three inches last year!” Soobin protested hotly.

“There, there,” Seokjin reached over and patted their cousin’s arm, “It’s not nice to lie in public.”

“I’m going to be taller than all of you one day,” Soobin huffed, “Then you’ll see.”

“Hush you all. Let’s try to be more cordial today, for our guests,” Mrs. Kim said, materialising behind Hoseok with a dish piled high with pork belly. “Don’t be shy, sweetheart,” she said as Hoseok weakly protested the growing mountain of meat accumulating in front of him, “Eat all you want.”

“This is more than enough, thank you,” Hoseok nearly pleaded, hands hovering around the precariously balanced pork belly tower on his plate. Appeased, Mrs. Kim pointed her tongs at the rest of the table, “Make sure he eats properly.” She walked around the table in record speed and attacked Jimin’s plate next, “Now don’t tell me you don’t want some pork. You’re much too skinny, Jimin-ah. You need to eat.”

Jimin eyed his own meat mountain with trepidation, “Thank you, Yeoreum-ssi. You’re very kind.”

Mrs. Kim waved her tongs in the air, “Oh enough with all these formalities. It’s eommonim to both of you from now on.”

Hoseok blinked at all the eyes laser-focused on him, “Uh…why is everyone looking at me?”

“We can’t eat till both of you eat,” Soobin whined, “Hurry up!”

“Soobin!” Aunt Gyeoul admonished.

“Oh haha, it’s okay,” Hoseok laughed, putting a piece of pork into his mouth. He made a happy sound, “Wow, this is amazing.”

All heads instantly swivelled to Jimin with surprising synchronisation. He immediately bit off a piece of meat, “Oh my, you’re a fabulous cook Yeo–eommonim.”

That’s when all hell broke loose. The table became a flurry of activity, hands reaching out for dishes, chopsticks warring with each other, shouts of “hey that’s my piece!", sodas being cracked open and guzzled down, annoyed voices asking for something to be passed along “within this century please!". With his own portions secured, Namjoon finally spared Hoseok a second glance. He couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled past his lips at the mildly horrified expression on the guest’s face. No warning could ever do justice to the absolute bloodbath that was a Kim family meal, he thought, shifting his gaze to the left where Taehyung and Soobin were playing tug-of-war with the bowl of less spicy radish kimchi.

“This is not for you!” Taehyung cried, his hands gripping onto the bowl for dear life.

Soobin didn’t relent, “Yes it is! I can’t have the spicy kimchi either!”

“Too bad! Seniority wins,” the elder cousin countered, giving the bowl one last tug and cradling it to his chest like a newborn baby once it slipped out of Soobin’s hold.

“We’re raising a family of barn animals,” Uncle Jaesung commented, calmly sniping a piece of meat from between Eunchae’s chopsticks.

“Appa!” she screamed.

“You heard your cousin. Seniority wins,” he replied, ignoring his fuming daughter in favour of pouring himself more soda.

“I’m sorry about them, dear,” Mrs. Kim said apologetically, “Would you like some more rice?”

“Er. I’m okay for now, thanks Yeoreum-ssi,” Hoseok said, still wearing an expression of shock.

“Nonsense! Eunchae! Give Hoseok some rice,” Mrs. Kim ordered. Eunchae swiftly snatched the bowl away from Moonbyul ("Yah! At least let me take my spoon out!”) and held it towards Hoseok with a simpering smile, “Here you go, oppa.”

Namjoon gagged. Could she make her infatuation any more obvious? Hoseok wasn’t making it any better either, entertaining her batting eyes and innocent smile with delighted giggles and bright grins of his own. What did he think he was doing, leading a seventeen-year-old on like this? 

God, his mother’s “lovely” choice really couldn't have been any worse.

“So, Hoseok,” Uncle Jaesung boomed, “What do you do?”

“That’s enough!” Hoseok gently steered Eunchae’s heaped spoon away from him, “I’m a fashion designer.”

“He’s the owner of Hope on the Street,” Jimin spoke up for the first time since the Lunch War had started, “I love your designs. I have a whole Pinterest board dedicated to them.”

The smile Hoseok gave Jimin had more warmth than any other one Namjoon had seen so far. “You’re so cute! Thank you. Have you worn any of my pieces? Because I have a jacket that would look perfect on your frame.”

“Ah,” Jimin laughed, “I could never afford any of your clothes.”

“Why not? What do you do, darling?” Aunt Gyeoul asked.

“I’m…a bartender,” Jimin said slowly, eyes darting around the table. 

“And he’s in school for contemporary dance,” Taehyung added proudly, “Top student in his class. He’s going to be super duper famous one day. You should all get your autographs now.”

Jimin’s shoulders relaxed slightly as he smiled, “I’m alright. Tae just likes to hype me up.”

“You’re so cool,” Soobin said in an awed voice, “I’ve always wanted to learn how to dance. Will you teach me, hyung? Please?”

“Me too!” Eunchae’s hand shot up in the air, “Contemporary dance looks so pretty. I wanna learn how to move like that.”

“Oh,” Jimin looked taken aback, “Of course. I’d be happy to.”

Hoseok puckered his lips thoughtfully, “It makes so much sense why you have such an athletic body. And with that face too? Whew! I could design a whole collection for you, Jimin-ah.”

“Alright, that’s enough. Everyone stop sucking up to my boyfriend,” Taehyung narrowed his eyes, “Only I am allowed to fulfil his daily compliment quota.”

The table was silent for a second before it erupted.

“Jimin you look like an angel–”

“–your lips are so pink–”

“–I bet you dance better than every idol out there–”

“–have you ever considered modelling–”

“–if you ever get tired of Taehyung, I have a friend who would be so into you–”

“Everybody shut up!” Taehyung yelled, standing up and turning to a stunned Jimin with determination burning in his eyes, “Jiminie, you are the most perfect, precious, gorgeous, stunning, wonderful human ever. Period.”

The blush that spread rapidly across Jimin’s cheeks was a deep cherry red. Hoseok was doubled over in his seat, clutching at his stomach while he laughed. Mrs. Kim and Aunt Gyeoul were both shaking their heads and wearing fond smiles. Seokjin was banging on the table with his fist, chanting, “Hear, hear!” Even Yoongi had a wide, gummy smile on his face, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

Namjoon surveyed Jimin’s reaction with a critical eye. “You know,” he started, “I’ve never heard the story of how you two met.”

Jimin’s shy smile faltered, “Right. Um, Tae, why don’t you tell them?” He leaned towards Namjoon and pretended to whisper, “He loves telling his version. Don’t you, babe?”

Taehyung’s expression looked uncannily like that one time he’d been a toddler caught scaling the fridge to get to the cookie jar at the top. He rearranged his features to shoot a barely-concealed glare at Jimin, who cocked his head to the side and smiled sweetly, as if to say “Well?”

“I’d love to know this story too,” Mrs. Kim declared, resting her chin on her hands, “Here I was, starting to think that there was no hope left for any of them and then suddenly one day, Taehyungie turns up with the loveliest boy and says he’s been dating behind my back all this time! I must know how it happened.”

“Ah,” Taehyung scratched his head, “It’s not exactly the Titanic but–”

“–I’d hope not,” Jimin remarked, “Personally, I’d prefer not to die in this relationship.”

Seokjin gave an appreciative snort. “Finally found someone snarkier than yourself, eh Taehyung-ah?”

“As I was saying ,” Taehyung continued, “We met…”

He locked eyes with Jimin, who had a curious expression painted on his face.

“...at a bar. I was on a date that was really sucking ass and all I wanted was to get rid of the damn guy. So I went to the bartender for help and as it turns out, Jimin was the one on shift that night. He let me hide behind the counter, even though his boss could fire him for it, and told the prick I came with that I’d gone home. Even made him pay for both of our drinks before leaving.”

His tone turned tender, “I laughed so much that night. I stayed behind the bar till Jimin’s shift ended and then he was going to drop me home, but…”

Taehyung broke out into an embarrassed smile, “I didn’t want to leave him. He was the cutest and sweetest and funniest guy I’d ever met. I wasn’t prepared to lose him so quickly. So I kept making up these lame excuses. My roommate had someone over, I was too drunk to remember the directions, blah blah blah. We went to a convenience store and got ice-cream and talked till like four in the morning. And then uh…”

He paused. “Then we went to his place. And…um, hung out. For a while.”

Several snorts came from around the table. Aunt Gyeoul looked scandalised. Mrs. Kim nodded approvingly. Soobin looked around, confused, “Why are you all smiling like that?”

“No reason,” Taehyung quickly said. “Anyway, then we exchanged numbers and I guess…”

“You started dating!” Eunchae finished.

“Yep,” Taehyung echoed, “We started dating.” His face was carefully masked, but Namjoon had long since learned to decipher his brother’s micro-expressions. He was upset about something. 

Upset about lying, probably. That bar story is such bullshit. It sounded like a meet-cute from a cheesy rom-com. No way that was real.

“Cute,” he said out loud, “How long ago was that exactly?”

“Six months,” both Taehyung and Jimin chorused.

Dammit. They were supposed to give different answers. They’d prepared their backstory more thoroughly than Namjoon had expected.

“Aww,” Hoseok laughed, “You guys really are so cute.”

“If you ask me, I think there’s an even more fascinating couple here,” Moonbyul interjected, fingers playing with her long black hair as she leaned back and directed a lazy smile at her victims. “To think that I’ve been prodding Jinnie about whether he’s dating Yoongi for years now and each time, he had the gall to lie right to my face. Shame on you.”

Seokjin sighed dramatically, “I should’ve been the one in acting instead of Taehyung. My talents are being wasted in that tiny office.”

“Your office is bigger than most people’s apartments,” Yoongi stated dryly.

“Well I need enough space for a couch don’t I? Where else will you sit while you admire your hot, professional boyfriend?”

“I sit there because you literally kidnap me from my office and lock me in with you every other day.”

“Being CEO is hard! I need moral support.”

“What is wrong with giving moral support over the phone?”

“That’s useless. I need your disapproving face looking right at me every time I think of taking a bubble tea break.”

“Again, I can make that face on a call. It hardly takes any effort.”

“But then who will push me into my chair and tell me to get back to work?”

“Why do you need so much supervision? You’re thirty years old.”

Seokjin gasped and put a hand over his heart, “You wound me.”

Yoongi looked unimpressed, “Good. Channel it into your job.”

Moonbyul groaned, “I changed my mind. I don’t want to know anything about those two.”

“No no,” Namjoon said, “I do. I want to know how they started dating overnight after a whole decade of being pining idiots.”

Yoongi sputtered, “No one was pining–”

“Please. Did you think no one saw the face you made every time Jin hyung brought a date along with him? It was always either ‘kicked puppy’ or ‘homicidal ex’.”

“Really?” Seokjin looked like this was news to him, “How interesting.”

Namjoon gave a pointed look to his brother, “As if you were any better. You literally threatened to burn Yijeong hyung’s house down when Yoongi hyung first introduced him to us as his boyfriend.”

“You did what?” Yoongi exclaimed just as Seokjin coughed, “Did I? I don’t seem to remember.”

“Exactly. So how did all of that turn into all of this?” Namjoon gestured vaguely at the couple. 

“I don’t know, Detective Kim,” Seokjin taunted, “Maybe one day I just woke up and realised I was being an idiot.”

“Sounds unlikely,” Namjoon muttered.

“Hey! Respect my character development arc. It’s not my fault you’re a sad, single loser.”

“Don’t call your brother a loser, Seokjin,” Mrs. Kim recited automatically.

“And Yoongi hyung? How did you decide to date this… person?” Namjoon pressed.

Yoongi shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Namjoon felt a little bad for pushing his introverted hyung into the spotlight, but his quest for the truth outweighed his guilt. He’d apologise later. (Which meant he’d get Yoongi some of that fancy Brazilian coffee he loved so much and leave it in his room. Namjoon and Yoongi’s apologies had always been like that. Silent, through third-party means.)

“Same reason, I guess. Just realised that…I don’t know. Realised that I don’t totally hate being kidnapped twice a week,” he mumbled, cheeks aflame and gaze firmly fixed on the table.

“That…is the most adorable thing I have ever heard,” Hoseok chimed in, his eyes doing some kind of sparkly thing Namjoon had thought only existed in animation.

Adorable, my ass. He knew both these hyungs like the back of his hand. The chances of them waking up one morning with all their shit magically sorted? Ze-ro.

“Eomma, what are you doing?” Seokjin frowned at the money she was plucking out of Aunt Gyeoul and Uncle Jaesung’s hands.

“We had a little bet going about how long it would take you and Yoongi-ah to confess to each other and I, naturally, just won it,” Mrs. Kim said smugly.

“You were betting on us?” Yoongi gaped.

“It has been a decade of waiting,” Uncle Jaesung quipped, “We were getting bored. Had to spice things up a bit, you know?”

Yoongi’s face shuttered. “That’s…were we really that obvious to everyone?”

“I didn’t realise till three years ago,” Soobin said, “When I walked in on you guys kiss–”

“Okay!” Seokjin yelped, “Enough about us! We haven’t asked our guests nearly enough questions. So, Hoseok, what are your hobbies?”

Kissing? Seokjin and Yoongi hyung kissing? He shuddered. Across the table, Hoseok shot him a look. “I’m usually pretty busy with work, but when I do get some downtime I like doing cute little self-care days for myself. Masks, mediation, reading trashy novels, binging reality TV. It’s fun.”

Didn’t sound fun to Namjoon. Trashy novels? Eugh. And okay, maybe Namjoon hadn’t hated Single’s Inferno when Taehyung had sat him down and made him watch it. But he wasn’t a big reality TV person otherwise. It was just so…tacky.

“Uh huh, what else?” Seokjin asked, eyes darting towards Yoongi’s stiff posture, “Do you like animals as much as our Namjoonie here?”

“I mean, I like dogs. And cats. But the smaller they get, the more scared I am, honestly.”

So he hated small and cute animals? Sugar gliders? Hamsters? Crabs?

“Are you a plant person?”

Hoseok laughed, “Oh god, not at all. The fifteen houseplants I’ve tried and failed to keep alive is enough evidence of that, I think.”

“Ah,” Seokjin glanced at Namjoon, whose expression had become stormy at the mention of Hoseok’s plant-killer trait.

A plant murderer? Was his mother seriously trying to set him up with this…this nature-hating miscreant?

“I do love the beach though. It’s probably why I jumped at the chance to come here. Plus, the people in seaside towns always seem so much nicer than city people. The last time I came to Jeju, I met a halmeoni who gave me a literal ton of kimchi to take back home. I’m hoping I’ll be able to find her again this time.”

“Aww, that’s sweet. Do you remember her name?” Mrs. Kim questioned.

“Jeon Minji. I’m pretty sure I still remember the directions to her house too. I’ll go visit her sometime this week, see if she remembers me.”

“Namjoon can go with you!”

“What? Why do I have to go?” Namjoon whined.

Hoseok hurriedly added, “He doesn’t have to–”

Mrs. Kim ignored them both. “We can’t let Hoseok wander around alone, can we? If you do get lost, I’d rather you both get lost together.”

“Gee, thanks eomma. Glad you’re so concerned about my well-being. Have you considered that maybe this…Minji-ssi could be a serial killer ? What if your favourite son gets strangled on vacation? Would that upset you at all?”

“I don’t think an eighty-five year old would make a very good serial killer,” Hoseok stated.

“'Favourite son’ might be pushing it,” Seokjin snickered.

“I always thought serial killers preferred stabbing,” Taehyung professed.

Mrs. Kim fixed Namjoon with what he called her “Five Seconds from Bodily Harm” face. Her mouth was stretched into a smile but her eyes were boring holes into him. She wasn’t letting him refuse, not when she already had him backed into a corner (and stranded on an island).

“Fine. I’ll go with him,” Namjoon sighed.

Hoseok looked equally dejected, “Great.”

After lunch had been cleared away and everyone had meandered off to do their own things, Namjoon found himself left alone with Hoseok in the backyard. They seemed to notice this at the exact same time, both faces taking on mirroring expressions of exasperation.

“I can’t believe I got blackmailed into going to meet some old lady because of you,” Namjoon griped.

“Blackmailed? Your mother asked you and you said yes. Didn’t even put up a fight,” Hoseok said.

“Excuse me, I know exactly what my mother’s blackmail face looks like, alright? She doesn’t need to use words to tell me she’s about three seconds away from committing a felony if I don’t do what she wants me to do.”

“Or you’re just a scaredy cat.”

“Sca– who even says that as an adult?”

“I do,” Hoseok replied in a high-pitched sing-song voice.

“You’re so weird,” Namjoon concluded, “Making friends with old ladies on an island was already weird and now this.”

Hoseok’s brows furrowed, lips pushing into a defiant pout, “What’s wrong with making new friends?”

Oh. He looks so cute when he’s mad. Shit.

“Nothing. When they’re in the same age bracket as you.”

“You’re so narrow-minded,” Hoseok crossed his arms, “Friendships can happen anytime, anywhere. I’ve made new friends in so many unexpected places. In line at the bank, backstage at a fashion show, locked inside a storage closet, that one was terrifying at the time but I did end up becoming Breakdown Besties with the makeup artist who got locked in with me. My point is, the possibilities are endless, if only you would be less…judgemental.”

“I’m not judgemental! I’m…” Namjoon trailed off.

Awkward. Uncoordinated. Terrible at first impressions. 

“...selective,” he decided. Hoseok rolled his eyes, “So just ‘judgemental’ in a different font.”

That caught him off-guard. “Do spoken words have a font?”

“Of course they do. I could say “Namjoon-ssi you’re a friendless loser” and it sounds like a statement,” Hoseok said, pitching his voice low and raspy. 

He switched to a higher tone, “But if I said “Namjoon-ssi, you’re a friendless loser”, it sounds like an insult.”

Namjoon wasn’t amused. “They both sound like insults to me.”

“Do they?” Hoseok blinked innocently, “Oops.”

“And your little demonstration there, that’s intonation. Not font.”

“Use your imagination, Namjoon-ssi. The first statement was Arial, 11-point. Straight to the point and factual. The second statement was obviously Dancing Script, 12-point. Disguised to be pretty but thorny underneath.”

Huh. That. That was so. Huh.

Namjoon felt some of his irritation melt into interest. Then he remembered that he had just been accused of being a friendless loser. That dialled the irritation back up rather quickly.

“Whatever.” Smart, Namjoon. “I have things to do. See you at dinner, Hoseok-ssi.”

“Sure. Have fun with your things,” Hoseok replied, saccharine sweet.

Namjoon stomped upstairs, muttering under his breath the whole time. Stupid Jung Hoseok with his stupid smile and his stupid arguments and his stupid little dimples at the corners of his mouth. 

He looked out the window. The sun had fallen from its position high in the sky and was inching slowly towards the sea. From his vantage point, he could see the waves roll onto the shore. The distant, rhythmic gush of water as it travelled back and forth between land and ocean calmed his nerves considerably. In the distance, he could make out the silhouettes of seagulls swooping down towards the water, skimming the surface with their feet before taking off into the clouds. When he slid the glass pane open, a warm, salty breeze brushed up against his skin - an invite from the sea. 

Shedding his trousers in favour of shorts, and with sunglasses perched on his head, Namjoon headed down to the beach. A few quiet hours in the sun, away from the chaos of the house, would help him think. It would let him formulate the next stage of his new plan - how to make Jung Hoseok admit to Namjoon’s mother that he wasn’t interested in marrying her son. It helped that Hoseok already held a low opinion of him, all Namjoon needed to do was make it worse.

With a towel tucked under his arm, Namjoon marched out the door towards his destination. He didn’t spot the two men huddled in a corner of the patio, whispering furiously to each other and freezing at the sight of him, nor did he hear the couple in the pool house - one yelling angrily “This isn’t going to work!” and the other responding with “Yes it is, Yoongi. They don’t suspect a thing! Just keep acting like you’re in love with me, which shouldn’t be too hard, I mean, look at me! It’s just a week, okay? One week and we’ll go back to being hot, single friends again. So just stick to the plan. Capiche?”

(Namjoon didn’t see it and in his desperation Seokjin didn’t either, but Yoongi had a quietly heartbroken look on his face when he answered, “Yeah, sure, whatever. Capiche.”)

Hoseok had missed the beach.

Sure, he liked the hustle and bustle of city life, the rustling of coats as people walked past, the fact that his favourite cafe was twenty steps from the office, the cat that wandered into his apartment from time to time, the restaurants and clubs and the company of his friends. But it got suffocating sometimes, when he felt like he couldn't live up to the expectations the city had of him. Seoul Hoseok was supposed to be a fashion prodigy, a coveted brand, the man who dressed the stars. He was known and sought after and praised by everyone who mattered in his field. Seoul Hoseok was, to put it simply, extraordinary. So much so, that on some days Hoseok felt like he was in service of his own persona, working overtime to keep the ruse going.

That’s why Jeju was so special to him. Here, he wasn’t Seoul Hoseok anymore. He was just…Hoseok. A man with the sand under his feet and salt in his hair. Just another person making the most of their time with the sea. He was no different from the two little boys building a sandcastle a few paces away from him, or the girl hauling her surfboard into the water to catch the last few waves of the day. In Jeju, Hoseok was finally himself.

“Watch out!”

Hoseok turned his head just in time to catch sight of a plastic shovel whizzing towards him. He shrieked and ducked down. The shovel impaled itself into the sand next to his feet. 

“I’m so sorry,” the man who had shouted came to a stop now that the shovel was no longer airborne. He was bent over, hands on his knees as he panted, “My nephews are sneaky little menaces.”

When he straightened up, Hoseok felt a shock of dejá vu. He had seen this face before. Maybe at one of his shows or at a party, he wasn’t sure. But that rounded nose and those doe eyes looked oddly familiar. With a sudden sense of dread overtaking him, Hoseok wondered if this was one of his ex-hookups. If it was, and if he recognised Hoseok, this vacation was finally going to turn into the full-blown nightmare it had started to resemble the minute his mother had told him about the marriage scheme.

“Oh hey! You’re Jung Hoseok, right?” the doe-eyed man smiled, bunny teeth poking out. Hoseok felt the panic rising in his stomach. His eyes darted around as he considered the fastest way to escape. 

“Er,” he started nervously, “Yes?”

“That’s so cool! I love your clothes!”

“Oh.” So he wasn’t a hookup, just a fan. Okay, that was good. That Hoseok could handle. 

“Thank you.”

He was about to ask for the stranger’s name when one of the little boys who’d been building the sandcastle ran over to them, pulling at the stranger’s shorts.

“Jungkook samchon! You didn’t get our shovel back,” he pouted.

Hold on. Jungkook? Jeon Jungkook? The idol? 

Hoseok focused on the stranger’s, or well, Jungkook’s face. It looked different than it did on screen and across magazines– his hair was longer, not sleek and straight but coarse and curly and his skin was tanned, a sunburn blooming on the tip of his nose. Still, it was definitely him. Hoseok felt foolish for not recognising him earlier. Although, to be fair, he really hadn't expected to bump into Korea’s most famous idol on a random beach in Jeju. Just like he hadn’t expected to have a plastic shovel chucked at his head.

“You’re the one who nearly decapitated someone with your shovel in the first place,” Jungkook scolded lightly, “You should apologise to this man, don’t you think?”

The boy’s pout deepened but he turned to Hoseok and bowed nonetheless, “Sorry, ahjussi.”

“It’s okay,” Hoseok smiled. He pulled the shovel out and handed it to the boy, “Just be careful.”

“Thank you!” the boy grinned, racing back over to his impressively tall sandcastle.

“Kai! Don’t run too fast or you’ll slip again!” Jungkook called out, eyes worriedly following the boy’s path. Kai threw his uncle a thumbs up as he skidded to a stop in front of the other boy and plopped back down into the sand.

“I can’t believe I got scammed into babysitting on my vacation,” Jungkook muttered under his breath.

Hoseok laughed, “I’ll take your scam over mine anyday.”

Jungkook raised his brows, amused, “Is that so?”

“Oh absolutely. My scam involves adults, eugh. Kids are so much easier to deal with.”

Jungkook crossed his arms, his biceps bulging at the action. Hoseok ran an appreciative eye over them before meeting the idol’s knowing smirk. Shit, did he catch Hoseok checking him out? Oh well, it wouldn’t be anything new for him. He was the hottest man in the country right now, according to, well, according to pretty much everyone. People thirsting after him (and his meaty biceps) was probably his usual day-to-day.

“Care to share? I’ve been dying for a conversation with someone who isn't either eighty or eight. I could really do with some age-appropriate gossip right now.”

Hoseok hesitated. The people involved in his story were names of consequence. He didn’t want to start up a scandal by sharing news involving one public figure with another one. Plus, he didn’t actually know Jungkook and baring his problems to a near stranger on their first meeting seemed a bit…inappropriate.

Jungkook seemed to understand. He flashed Hoseok another bunny smile, “It’s okay if you don’t want to. I’m just nosy. I think my grandmother’s love for gossip is rubbing off on me.”

“Is that who you’re here to see?”

Jungkook nodded, “Yeah, I try to come a couple times a year. It’s hard to find the time these days but I used to spend all my summers with her before I went to Seoul to become a trainee. And she’s one of my favourite people. So I decided to take a week off and visit her. Turns out, my wonderful sister had the inspired idea to send her kids to spend their summer here too. And since halmeoni can’t move around like she used to, here I am. Babysitting those two demons on my holiday time.”

He blushed, “Wow, that’s TMI for someone I just met. Sorry. I think I’m really starving for some company.”

Hoseok felt nothing but endeared as Jungkook looked down, embarrassed. On stage and on talk shows he seemed so confident, so out-of-reach and larger than life. But here, standing on a beach as the sun went down, clad in a white shirt, cargo shorts and sandals, he seemed like a regular guy– spending time with his grandmother and running after his nephews. It was incredibly sweet to witness.

He decided to return the favour. Sitting down with his knees to his chest, he met Jungkook’s confused gaze and patted the spot next to him. “My TMI’s going to take longer. And it might knock you off your feet, so probably best if you sit down.”

Jungkook grinned and sat next to him, his head propped on one hand as he waited for Hoseok to continue. So Hoseok did. He told him about his mother’s last minute revelation, his murderous theories about the Kim brothers (which made Jungkook snort), his discovery that two of the brothers were out of the game and his less-than-pleasant encounters with the third brother.

When he reached the end, Jungkook let out a low whistle, “Okay. I agree. That might be worse than mine.”

“See? I told you.”

“But does your scam involve stepping on lego pieces in the middle of the night when you go down to the kitchen to get water?”

“Uh, no?”

“Then mine is still worse, sorry.”

Hoseok laughed brightly. It felt nice to talk to someone without the baggage of the whole arranged marriage scheme weighing him down. Namjoon’s brothers and their boyfriends were nice too, but they were still tied to the whole marriage trap thing. Plus, they seemed to have some stuff going on within themselves that always made the air in the room kinda tense. So this unfiltered, easy conversation with someone new made him feel relaxed, in his element. When he wasn’t being actively deceived (thanks moms) or actively antagonised (fucking Kim Namjoon) he knew he could be a pleasant person. And thankfully, that was the side of him that Jungkook was bringing out, the two of them sitting here on the sun-warmed sand, swapping stories and becoming friends.

“It wouldn’t have been so bad if Kim Namjoon wasn’t such a dick, honestly. It’s not like he’s…,” Hoseok paused, “Well, he’s not painful to look at. Maybe if we’d met in different circumstances, I’d have approached him on my own.”

Jungkook hummed. “I’ve seen him before. At a premiere for Kim Taehyung’s movie. I did the OST for that one.”

He glanced at Hoseok, an amused twinkle in his eye, “The point is, I’ve seen Kim Namjoon in the flesh. And honestly, “not painful to look at” is a major understatement, Hoseok-ssi. He’s stupid hot. Like I swear my first thought when I saw him was “Wow. Thighs”.”

Hoseok made a face, “You’ll change your mind once he opens his mouth in front of you. He’s so pretentious for no good reason.”

Jungkook grinned, eyes flickering over to something behind Hoseok. His grin widened, “Pretentious, you say? Because I’m finding him quite cute right now.”

Hoseok followed Jungkook’s line of sight. A few metres away, he saw Namjoon crouched down, whispering into his hand. In that position, his (ample) thigh muscles were flexed, and his dimples were out in full force as he smiled at whatever was in his hand. 

Fuck, he did look cute. This was so unfair.

“Maybe you’ll be the one changing your mind soon,” Jungkook said. Hoseok pursed his lips, watching as Namjoon tipped backwards and clumsily landed on his butt, an adorably bewildered expression spreading across his face.

God fucking dammit. Why couldn’t he have been less handsome? 

Jungkook stood up, dusting the sand off his shorts. “I should take the demons back home. It’s getting dark.”

“Sure, of course. I’ll see you around?” Hoseok asked hopefully. He could really do with a friend here. Someone he would be able to escape to if things at the Kim house got weird.

“Of course. I’ll DM my number to you on Instagram. See you, Hoseok-ssi!”

Hoseok waved his hand, “Hyung is fine, please.”

Jungkook beamed. Hoseok could almost imagine two bunny ears perking up on his head.

“Okay! See you around, hyung!”

Jungkook trudged off, pulling his nephews up by their sleeves and dragging them along. One of them stamped his foot on the ground petulantly and Jungkook sighed and bent down so the boy could climb on his back. Hoseok smiled fondly at the little group as they got further and further away. When they disappeared from his sight, he turned back to Namjoon, who was still murmuring into his hand.

He walked over, “Erm. Hi.”

Namjoon blinked owlishly up at him, “What are you doing here?”

“Why? Is the beach your private property too?”

“That’s not what I– whatever. Hi.”

Hoseok craned his neck, “What’s in your hand?”

Namjoon seemed to consider the question. Finally he sighed and uncupped his hands, revealing a tiny pink crab nestled in his palm, “This is Cotton Candy.”

Hoseok yelled and jumped backwards, “That’s a crab!”

Namjoon looked exasperated, “And?”

“It bites!”

“So? It doesn’t hurt. It’s like a pinch, at most.”

He looked down at the crab, “Don’t listen to him, Cotton Candy. You’re perfect.”

Hoseok huffed, “So you’re nice to a crab but you can’t show me an ounce of pleasantness?”

Namjoon shrugged, “I don’t have to marry the crab. And I’m not nice to animal-haters anyway.”

“Wha– I’m not an animal hater! I just don’t like…those things.” Hoseok made a snapping motion with his hands.

“Pincers,” Namjoon responded dryly.

“Yeah! Those! Those are scary.”

“Cotton Candy is smaller than half your pinky. She’s probably more scared of you than you are of her.”

“No way. I can’t be out-scared by a crab, I’ll lose half my personality.”

That made Namjoon chuckle. He titled his palms towards the ground and let the little pink crab scuttle away. “There. Your competition is gone.”

“Thank god,” Hoseok exhaled. Namjoon got up and held out his hand. Hoseok stared at it, unsure of what he was supposed to do. 

“Oh,” Namjoon’s right dimple popped as he offered a sheepish half-smile, “The way back to the house is a bit uphill so…”

“Ah.” For the first time, Hoseok felt a blush of his own creep up the back of his neck, “I’m, uh, I’m good.”

“Okay.” Namjoon instantly pocketed his hand, looking like he regretted offering it in the first place.

Hoseok felt a little bad. Namjoon may have been trying to extend an olive branch, and he’d just refused it.

“I don’t quite remember the way back though,” Hoseok said, “Maybe we could walk back together? If that’s cool.”

“Yeah. It’s cool,” Namjoon said. He walked a few steps forward then turned to look at Hoseok over his shoulder, “You coming?”

Hoseok shook himself out of his reverie (that he had not been put into by the sight of Namjoon’s long, tanned legs) and hurried forward. 

Perhaps they were making progress after all.

The house was bustling again. The sound of loud conversation in the dining room was accompanied by the smell of freshly-cooked rice and spicy stew. Heartened by the smell of food and his encounter with Cotton Candy, Namjoon decided to let go of his pettiness for a small moment. He held the front door open for a bemused Hoseok, who gave him a three-second stare before shuffling in through the entrance.

It’s not like Namjoon was a terrible person. He knew very well he owed Hoseok some niceties. Sure, he wanted him gone and for his mother to give up on her marriage scheme, but Hoseok had been tricked into this whole thing too, just like him. And it’s not like holding one door open for Hoseok would instantly make him fall in love with Namjoon. Plus, this act sort of made up for the fact that he’d forgotten to greet Hoseok earlier in the day, when he’d arrived at the house. Namjoon hadn’t meant to forget. It was just that the wicker chair on the patio had been in the way of the harsh afternoon sun, so he’d moved to the hammock in the backyard, certain that he’d make his way back to the front of the house in a bit. Unfortunately for him, the warm, balmy weather coupled with the perfectly cool breeze blowing into the yard had made him doze off into a peaceful sleep. When he’d woken up, thanks to his mother angrily shaking him and yakking away about his irresponsible behaviour, Hoseok had already been shown to his room.

Anyway, they were even now. He had graciously held the door for Hoseok and had absolutely not blushed at the cute little smile he received in return.

“There you are!” Mrs. Kim had her hands on her waist, “We’ve been looking everywhere for you two.” Her tone was mildly admonishing but her delighted expression betrayed her real feelings. Namjoon couldn’t hold back an eye roll. She must have thought they were spending time together, getting to know each other and falling in love and all that other sappy shit she had set them up to do.

As if.

Namjoon would rather eat a whole fish than go along with his mother’s ridiculous plans. This Hoseok thing was never going to happen.

“Sorry, eommonim. Lost track of time at the beach,” Hoseok said apologetically.

“While doing our own, separate things,” Namjoon emphasised. Mrs. Kim’s expression dropped, “I see. Anyway, come along for dinner. I hope you like yukgaejang, Hoseok-ah.”

Hoseok clapped his hands together, “I love it! My eomma used to make it for me all the time when I was a kid. Sadly, I didn’t get any of her cooking skills so now I only ever get it as takeout.”

So he can’t cook either? Wow.  

If Namjoon and Hoseok did actually marry, did his mother expect them to starve? Because Namjoon was a well-known hazard in the kitchen, a fact his mother had learnt via several broken utensils and one accidental fire. So why would she try to pair him up with someone equally hopeless? Did she want her son to survive off fried chicken and beer for the rest of his life? Did she not care about his gut health? At all?

Mrs. Kim did not seem to be considering these very real logistical issues. She wound an arm around Hoseok’s and pulled him along, “Oh dear, that’s a shame. Takeout can never get the taste right, don’t you think? Homemade stew is always better.”

Namjoon followed them into the crowded dining room, getting immediately headbutted in the stomach by Soobin. 

“Oww! Soobs what the fu–dge!” 

“Whoops. Sorry, hyung,” Soobin gave him a consolidatory pat on the arm before scampering off behind Eunchae, “Hey! Give it back!”

“She took his phone and saw a bunch of texts from some girl named Yuna. There were a lot of red hearts, apparently,” Moonbyul smirked, handing Namjoon a glass of wine.

“Really?” Namjoon pursed his lips appreciatively, “Go Soobs.”

“Can’t believe a fifteen-year-old is getting more action than I am,” Moonbyul muttered, tipping her glass into her mouth.

Namjoon squinted at his cousin, “What happened to the last one? Miyeon, right?”

Moonbyul shrugged, “We realised we’re better off as friends. And we really are. I can’t tell you how awkward it was the last time we tried to get it on. Almost as bad as that time back in college, when I was still going through my “straight” phase and tried to give my boyfriend a blow job.”

“How’d that go?”

“Sat there with his dick in my mouth for five minutes before I realised I’m probably extremely gay.”

Namjoon chuckled, “Better than the time I had my whole sexuality crisis over being attracted to both Rachel Weisz and Brendan Fraser in The Mummy.”

“Did you realise this while having another person’s genitals in your mouth? No? Then I still win.”

“I mean I did ask a girl to peg me after that and she ran out of my apartment screaming.”

“Huh. Fine…it’s a tie.”

They clinked their glasses together, nodding solemnly in disaster queer solidarity. Seokjin sauntered over, putting an arm around Moonbyul’s shoulders and asking, “Whatchu yapping about?”

“Sad sexual encounters,” Moonbyul said, “Care to join?”

Namjoon gagged, “Ew. Please don’t. I do not want to hear about your and Yoongi hyung’s sex life.”

“Hey!” Seokjin protested, ears glowing red, “My–our sex life is not sad. I will have you know that we are very satisfied with each other’s…prowess.”

“Let’s find out,” Moonbyul grinned. She pushed her glass into Namjoon’s hands and cupped her palms around her mouth, “Yoongi-ah!”

Yoongi looked up from where he was squabbling with Taehyung at the table, “What?”

“Is Jinnie here blowing your back out every night? Satisfactorily?”

Everyone went silent, eyes swivelling between a sputtering Seokjin and a blank-faced Yoongi. Namjoon spotted Hoseok with a hand over his mouth, trying to hold back his giggles. The effort was making him pink in the face, and Namjoon felt a smile of his own tugging at his lips.

Fuck. Stop being such a weak bitch, Namjoon.  

Finally, after a pause that seemed to last ages, Yoongi shrugged, “He’s not the one doing the blowing usually.”

“Awooooooo,” Taehyung broke out into a wolf howl and Jimin swatted at his arm, his own laughter making him hunch over. Aunt Gyeoul had her hands over her ears and her eyes squeezed shut, muttering to herself. Next to her, Uncle Jaehyun was laughing in his loud, booming way. 

Mrs. Kim waved at everyone to sit down, “Okay, okay, enough. I’m glad to know my son isn’t a virgin, well done dears, but the food will get cold if we keep congratulating them any longer. Dig in!”

Dinner went smoothly, the hearty food and a few too many glasses of wine bringing out their more boisterous laughs and most embarrassing stories. Namjoon found himself seated opposite Hoseok once again, but somehow, unlike lunch, he didn’t find the other man’s high-pitched laugh quite so grating. 

Shit, he’s growing on me. How did it only take a few hours? Am I really so gullible?

Once dessert had been cleared away and the family had dispersed into their own rooms, Namjoon walked along the corridor to his bedroom, his brain running a mile a minute. He couldn’t be entertaining dumb thoughts like how pretty Hoseok’s smile was or the way his eyes shined when someone gave him a compliment. If he kept going down this path, he’d never be able to subvert his mother’s plans. In fact, he might end up giving in to them by actually falling for Hoseok and proving his mother right.

No fucking way. That will NOT happen. I will find a way to get out of this. Anything. I just need something…something I can use…

As he crossed Taehyung’s room, he heard a panicked voice coming from inside. Curious, he moved a little closer to the door, angling his ear towards the sound.

“Taehyung! Be for real! I barely know anything about you! What if someone asks me something else? Something important? Like Hoseok hyung did. About where we go on dates and all that shit. What am I supposed to say? Oh, sorry we don’t go on dates, we just sit at home and fuck because that’s all we are. A couple of fuckbuddies!”

“Shhhh. Jimin please. Someone will hear you.”

“How the fuck does it matter? I can’t fucking do this for a whole week, dude. Your family is so fucking nice and your mom is so sweet and I’m out here lying to all of them! For you! I don’t even know you!”

“That’s not true. You do know me.”

“Sure. I know you like having your hands tied while we fuck. Is that information I can share with your mom, huh? Hey eommonim, did you know your son’s a bottom? Well now you do. Whoop, nice talk. See you at Chuseok!”

“Jimin,” Taehyung sounded uncharacteristically upset, “Stop yelling at me.”

A sigh came through the door. Then Jimin’s voice spoke again, “I don’t know what your favourite colour is. I don’t know what you like to eat, if you like reading or watching movies, if you’re scared of heights or of water. I don’t fucking know any of these things. I thought it wouldn't matter, that we would smile and nod along all week and things would go back to normal after. But then I got here and saw you with your family and…I just…whatever. It doesn’t matter. I can’t pull this off for a whole week.”

“You can. Please, you promised me. I don’t want to be set up with some random guy by my mom when I…I just don’t, okay? I’m sorry you’re finding this so hard but I’ll help you, I swear. You won’t be alone. Please, Jimin.”

Namjoon had heard enough. He slowly backed away from the door, taking care to avoid the odd creaky floorboard. A new plan, one that would probably be easier than convincing Hoseok to abandon his vacation, was rapidly forming inside his head.

He speed-walked past his own room and knocked persistently on Hoseok’s door until he opened up, cream dotted all over his face, and asked tiredly, “What do you want?”

Namjoon snickered, “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Hoseok snapped, “I was in the middle of my skincare routine when you started trying to break my door down. So either tell me what you need or please leave me alone.”

“Can I come in? I can’t say it out here.”

Hoseok sighed. “Fine, but don’t touch anything.”

“I wasn’t going to!” Namjoon said peevishly. 

He walked in and found a weird contraption sitting on Hoseok’s bed. He reached out, “What’s this?”

Hoseok slapped his hand away, “I said don’t touch anything! That’s my facial massager. It’s supposed to relieve stress and reduce wrinkles. I’ll probably need three more of these by the end of this week. Anyway, can you just tell me what you want?”

Namjoon shoved his hands in his pockets, “I found a way for us to not have to marry each other.”

Hoseok raised his brows, “Go on.”

“My brothers are faking their relationships.”

“What? How do you know that?”

“I had my suspicions from the start. I mean, I know them, I know what’s going on in their lives. Seokjin and Yoongi hyung have been pining idiots for years, there’s no way they just fixed all their crap overnight without anyone else knowing. And Taehyung, he’s been avoiding relationships ever since…well, some stuff happened and he stopped dating. But then he turned up here with Jimin and I knew something was off.”

Hoseok frowned, “They seem so comfortable with each other though.”

“That’s because they’ve fucked!”

“So…like people in a relationship?”

Namjoon shook his head vigorously, “No! Like fuckbuddies! I heard them say it, okay. They’re arguing in Tae’s bedroom right now!” 

Hoseok looked unimpressed, “You were eavesdropping on your brother’s argument with his boyfriend?”

“ Fake boyfriend. And please, I wasn’t eavesdropping. They were so loud, anyone passing by would’ve heard them.”

Hoseok sat down on the bed, his robe falling open slightly to reveal a sliver of chest that Namjoon did not sneak a glance at. “Okay. Fine. Let’s say your brothers brought fake boyfriends along so they wouldn’t have to get set up with me. Which, ouch. But I get it. How does this help us though?”

Namjoon grinned, “We’re going to expose them.”

“Oh my god. You look like an evil supervillain right now.”

“Good. Villains are always the smartest people in the movies. Just like me.”

Hoseok rolled his eyes, “Aren’t you just the pinnacle of humility.”

“Come on, Hoseok-ssi. Neither of us want to be stuck in this weird forced marriage situation and this is our way out! If my brothers are caught lying about their boyfriends, my mom will totally let us off the hook. She’ll be way too preoccupied with them to care about us. It’s perfect. All you have to do is say you’re on board with Mission Kimpossible.”

“You,” Hoseok bit his lip as if to keep from laughing, “You named it?”

Namjoon rubbed his neck sheepishly, “It was too good a pun to pass up.”

He put on the most pleading face he possibly could, waiting as Hoseok made a considering face. It felt like forever, but eventually Hoseok shrugged and said, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Let’s do it.”

Namjoon took a step back, eyes wide, “Wait seriously? You’re in?”

Hoseok let out a puff of air, “Look. I don’t really want to get involved in other people’s relationship problems. But more than that, I don’t want to be forced into marrying some guy I barely know. And since neither of our moms are budging on that front, I guess this is the only escape route left.”

Namjoon nearly pumped his fist in the air but Hoseok put a hand out, pausing his victory whoop, “Wait.”

“Ugh, are you about to place some kind of condition on helping me?”

“What? No. You watch too many dramas.”

“Blame Taehyung for that.”

Hoseok shook his head, “I was going to say, if we don’t want anyone getting suspicious of us, we need to play along with what they want us to do. Which is, start to like each other.”

“Uh,” Namjoon grimaced, “I don’t like you like that. I don’t want to either.”

“No offence,” he added belatedly, earning an eye roll from Hoseok.

“Great. Good to know. But we don’t actually have to like each other that way. Not that I could ever see myself being into a condescending prick such as yourself.”

“Hey!”

Hoseok ignored his offended glare. “We just need to pretend to like each other. Be all friendly and…ugh, moony-eyed. So no one suspects what we’re talking about and they give us the space we need.”

Namjoon could do that. If his dumb brothers could pull off whole fake relationships, he could definitely pretend to be mildly interested in a (very attractive) man for a single week. Plus, he needed Hoseok to be on board with this mission. His brothers might be on high alert with him around, but they would likely let their guard down in front of Hoseok. After all, he didn’t know their histories. He was virtually still a stranger, to them and to everyone. How could he ever suspect them of lying about their love lives?

“Cool. Pretend to be into your whole bright-eyed bushy-tailed act for a week–”

“– it’s not an act –”

“– I can do that. No problem.”

Namjoon held out his hand, “So Mission Kimpossible is on then?”

Hoseok chuckled as they shook on it. “Still on the fence about the corny-ass name, but yes. Starting now, Mission Kimpossible is officially on.”

Chapter Text

“Why do I have to sit in the middle, I’m literally the tallest person here!”

Seokjin shrugged, immune to Namjoon’s whining, “You didn’t call dibs.”

“How was I supposed to call dibs when I wasn’t even here,” Namjoon grumbled, “You’re all cheaters!”

“Hey!” Soobin yelled, snug in his premium passenger seat spot, “Can you guys just get in? I want to go see the turtles!”

“You heard the kid,” Moonbyul put her hands on Namjoon’s back, pushing him towards the car, “There’s turtles at stake here.”

Namjoon huffed but he let himself be wrangled into the middle seat nonetheless. Trust his devious family to call dibs during the five seconds he’d gone to the bathroom. He couldn’t even relieve himself in peace around these heathens. 

The rest of the cousins piled into the car, Seokjin, Jimin and Taehyung squished together in the back (Taehyung didn’t seemed to mind the fact that Jimin was practically on top of him), Moonbyul (with an indignant Eunchae in her lap) and Hoseok on either side of Namjoon in the middle row and Yoongi sliding into the driver’s seat. When Hoseok got in and pulled the door shut, Namjoon caught a whiff of something sweet. His eyes fluttered close automatically as he leaned involuntarily towards Hoseok, inhaling deeply. There was something addicting about the subtle scent of vanilla and cinnamon wafting off the other man. Namjoon couldn’t get enough.

He smells so…edible. Like sponge cake and fresh coffee and warm cookies. 

A slight pressure on his shoulder made him open his eyes. Looking down, he found Hoseok’s hand pushing him back. With a dawning sense of horror, he abruptly realised he’d leaned way too much into Hoseok’s space, nearly crowding him against the door.

Fuck! Namjoon, you creep! What the hell are you doing?

“What are you doing?” Hoseok muttered.

Namjoon sprung back, “Uh. Nothing.”

Hoseok gave him a suspicious look. “Why were you sniffing the air like a dog?” His eyes widened, “Wait. Do I smell bad or something?”

Quite the opposite.

“Um. No. You’re good.”

“Oh,” Hoseok sighed in relief, “Thank god.”

Glancing at the rearview mirror, Namjoon caught Yoongi giving him a knowing look. He quickly averted his eyes. Not today. 

“So! Aquarium! Let’s get it!”

Yoongi chuckled as he strapped himself in and rolled the car out of the driveway. Namjoon kept his gaze firmly fixed forward. Mortification washed through his entire body, pinpricks of shame making his arms tingle. He couldn’t believe he’d just sniffed Hoseok. Sniffed him! Like he was some kind of animal. A dog, like Hoseok said. God, this really couldn’t be more embarrassing.

“Hey,” a soft whisper from the side made him jump.

He turned to Hoseok, who had a slightest hint of amusement glinting in his eyes. “What?”

“I saw Yoongi and Seokjin hyung in the kitchen this morning. They were making pancakes for everyone. And believe me, I have never seen anything more domestic in my whole life. They’re totally married!”

Namjoon shook his head, “Yeah, they are.”

“What? You told me it was fake!” Hoseok whispered furiously.

“It is.” Namjoon paused. “And it isn’t.”

He chuckled softly at Hoseok’s confused expression. Cute. 

No! Not cute! NOT CUTE!

“They’ve been like this forever. Right from when they met in college. They go on dates that they claim aren’t dates, they bring each other dinner when one of them has to work overtime…blah blah blah. Hell, they even do their laundry and taxes together!”

“Shut up. And they’re still not actually dating?”

Namjoon sighed, “Nope. We’ve all asked. Multiple times. But they’ve always said no. They get all shy and weird about it, sure. But it’s always no.”

Hoseok frowned, “Why?”

“I dunno. They’re dumb. Or maybe there’s something else. But you see why it’s so suspicious that they turned up on this vacation claiming they’re together. There’s no arc! No character development! No plot progression! There’s no way they’ve made it to the happy ending so quickly.”

“Namjoon-ssi, have you ever written fanfiction?”

Namjoon blushed. He had. But he wasn’t about to admit it to Hoseok. No fucking way.

“Why?”

Hoseok smirked, “No reason.” He glanced surreptitiously at the back seat, where Taehyung and Jimin were practically wrapped around each other, “And those two? What do you know about them?”

“Hmm. I don’t really know anything about Jimin. I met him for the first time when he came here with Taehyungie. But if there’s one thing I know about my brother, it’s that he’s loud. Especially when it comes to his love life. Do you know how many nights I’ve spent listening to the excruciating details of his romantic encounters when all I wanted to do was play Mario Kart and drink beer?"

“A lot?”

“A lot! He’s physically incapable of shutting up about his relationships. And then suddenly here he comes, with this super sexy guy he claims he’s totally gone for, and I’ve not heard a single rant about him all this time? No “oh my god hyung his smile is so cute” or “I wish he would choke me with his thighs” or “don’t you think he has the best ass in the whole world?”.”

Hoseok raised a brow. “Is that all from Taehyung’s perspective or are you thirsting after your brother’s boyfriend?”

“I’m stating facts,” Namjoon replied primly, “If Taehyung was soooo into some guy, I’d have definitely been subjected to at least a few nights of cute boy-induced crying. It’s a tradition at this point. And anyway, Jimin literally said that it’s fake. It doesn’t get more concrete than that.”

Hoseok hummed, “I did think they were being a bit awkward with each other when I first got here. But I thought maybe they’d had a fight or something.”

“Maybe they did. About lying to us and deceiving the entire family.”

“Okay,” Hoseok crossed his arms, “That’s harsh. They had a good reason. No one wants to be forced into a marriage. Isn’t that why you and I are trying to catch them out in the first place?”

Namjoon felt awfully like a scolded child. He pouted defensively, “Don’t make me sympathise with them, they’re the ones who landed me in this stupid marriage situation.”

“Actually, you landed you in this situation. If you had someone, you wouldn’t have to be your mother’s bait now, would you?”

“Wha–,” Namjoon gasped (as softly as he could because he could already feel a few inquisitive eyes glancing in their direction), “As if you’re any better than me. You got trapped here because you couldn't find a boyfriend either.”

Hoseok shrugged, “I could. I just don’t want to. And sadly for me, my mother doesn’t understand the concept of “not really looking for anything serious right now”. She thinks if I don’t get married in the next five minutes, I’ll end up single forever.”

Well. Now that Namjoon could relate to. He’d been so content with his work and his friends and his life, the need for a romantic relationship hadn’t really been a pressing matter for him. Sure, it would be nice if he found someone he liked, but if that did happen, it would be more of a bonus, rather than a relief. 

Of course, explaining that to his mother would be a Herculean task. Ridiculous as it may seem, exposing his brothers’ fake relationships and potentially ruining their family vacation was an easier way out than sitting his mother down and explaining his state of mind. Although at this point, he was simply exacting revenge for being trapped into her sneaky, totally unnecessary arranged marriage scheme.

Looks like deviousness runs in the family, he thought smugly to himself.

“Hey,” Hoseok’s breath tickled Namjoon’s neck and he suppressed a shiver.

“Hmm?”

“You mentioned something happened with Taehyung. Something that made him stop dating.”

“Ah.” Namjoon felt an old fury erupting inside his chest. He wasn’t a violent person, but Taehyung’s ex, a smarmy guy named Kihyun, really tested that principle.

“He got cheated on by his last boyfriend. And not just once.”

Hoseok’s mouth fell open, “No.”

“Yeah. And the guy didn’t own up to it himself. Taehyung was the one who found out.”

“What?”

Namjoon sighed, “Tae got home early from a shoot. It was their third anniversary. He wanted to celebrate. Got him wine and cake and flowers and everything. But that asshole had brought someone over. On their anniversary. To their house. Their bed. ”

Hoseok pressed his fingertips to his eyes, “That’s…fuck. That’s horrible.”

“God, I wanted to break every bone in his body. He’d been doing this for years, for nearly the entire time he and Tae were together. I almost bribed the police to get him thrown into jail.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Yoongi hyung took care of it. The guy was an architect too. Hyung got him fired and blacklisted from every architectural firm in the city. He had to move somewhere else. I don’t know where and I don’t care. As long as he’s out of Tae’s life, it’s fine.”

Hoseok shook his head, “I feel terrible. No one deserves to be cheated on.”

“And especially not Tae. He has so much love to give and he gives it to so many people. Even those who don’t deserve it.”

Namjoon felt the tension collecting in his jaw, in his wrists - aching to punch someone who was already gone from their lives, the damage he’d left behind already rotting away somewhere inside Taehyung’s vast, beautiful heart. No matter how much time passed, Namjoon would never stop hating that piece of shit for what he did to his baby brother.

A gentle hand on his own brought him out of his silent fuming. Hoseok’s eyes were soft, alight with understanding. It shouldn’t have, but it calmed Namjoon down nevertheless. Like magic, some of the tension melted away and he deflated in his seat.

“So anyway. Tae’s been a lot more careful since then. He doesn’t date around much. I don’t know where he met Jimin, but–”

“–he told us where he met Jimin. At the bar.”

Namjoon scoffed, “That was obviously not a real story, Hoseok-ssi.”

“Wasn’t it?” Hoseok looked thoughtful, “I know Taehyung’s an actor but…there’s some things even the best actor in the world can’t fake.”

“Please. My brother’s been acting since before it was his career. He made us believe he broke his leg and managed to keep that ruse up for a whole month before we caught on. He had a whole fake cast and a fake doctor and everything.”

“Wow. At least he’s meticulous. But I still don’t think Taehyung and Jimin are as fake as you think they are. I mean, look at them!”

Hoseok signalled covertly over to where the two men in question were softly whispering to each other, hearts practically popping out of Taehyung’s eyes as he gazed at Jimin. They did look very comfortable, Namjoon would give them that. If only they hadn’t been in the way of his own sweet, sweet freedom.

“Whatever. They’re going down,” he said, eliciting a defeated sigh from Hoseok. He expected the other man to berate him, but instead, Hoseok gave a little shrug and responded with, “I guess they have to, don’t they?”

Interesting. A fellow petty bitch. How nice.

Don’t think that! If you think that then you’ll start to like him and if you start to like him you’re going to want to date him and then one day you’ll want to marry him and then your mother will win!

“We’re here!” Soobin yelled out happily from the front.

Everyone tumbled out of the car. Namjoon managed to successfully place both Jimin and Seokjin in between him and Hoseok. Unfortunately he didn't manage to escape Yoongi, who shoved him lightly with his shoulder and said under his breath, “For two people who just met, you and Hoseok seemed awfully buddy-buddy in the car.” 

“What? No we wer–”

Namjoon stopped himself. Right. He had to convince everyone he was - ugh - actually falling for Hoseok. Be all…what was it that Hoseok said? Yeah, be all moony-eyed or whatever.

Putting on an expression he hoped came off as smitten and not constipated, he said, “Fine yeah. I guess we’re…getting to know each other.”

Yoongi chuckled, “And what did you get to know when you were trying to inhale him?”

“Wha–I was not inhaling him!”

“Pretty sure I saw a bug get vacuumed up your nose.”

“That is so not true–”

“Hey! Slowpokes! We came here to see the turtles, not be the turtles!” Seokjin’s voice called.

Yoongi gave Namjoon one last wicked smile before he waddled off towards the others, leaving Namjoon to stand there and try to convince himself that he was not insane for thinking a man smells good.

He’s not. He’s not. Is he…?

Oh for fuck’s sake.

The aquarium was gorgeous. Everything was bathed in blue, the light reflecting off the water surrounding them on all sides. Fish swam past Hoseok on either side and even above his head. He ducked involuntarily as he spotted a manta ray lazily flapping its way across the overhead tank, giving Namjoon the stink eye when he heard the man chuckle.

“Don’t worry, those things give me the creeps too,” Jimin shuddered, falling into step with Hoseok.

“They’re too flat. And slimy,” Hoseok made a face, “Like gross floating sea pancakes.”

Jimin laughed, a soft, tinkling sound, “Don’t let Namjoon hyung hear you. From what Tae’s told me about him, he’s a big marine life guy. I’m pretty sure he’ll reconsider liking you if he finds out about your sea pancake diagnosis.”

Let him, Hoseok almost said. Then he realised he was supposed to want Namjoon to like him. He settled on a grimace, “I’m hoping you’ll keep my secret then.”

Jimin stuck out his pinky and Hoseok curled his own around it. “Promise,” Jimin said solemnly. 

They walked to the middle of a circular room, and Jimin pointed out Soobin standing at a tank with his nose pressed up against the glass as he stared at the turtles with rapt attention.

“What is with that kid and turtles?” Hoseok wondered aloud.

“We let him watch Finding Nemo too many times as a kid,” Seokjin shook his head, “Now he’s a turtle-head in more ways than one.”

Jimin made a confused noise. Seokjin pointed at his own head and whispered, “A bit slow.”

“Maybe don’t insult me in a room with an echo,” Soobin called out loudly, pinning his cousin with a glare before going right back to smushing his nose against the tank.

“I’m going to see the dolphins,” Eunchae declared, sashaying off with an excited Taehyung in tow. Moonbyul, Seokjin and Yoongi went off to the exotic fish display (“I want to find the Seokjin of fishes” Seokjin claimed) and Namjoon and Soobin ran ahead at the sight of a giant crab, leaving Hoseok and Jimin in each other’s company in the turtle room.

It was pleasant enough, the silence more friendly than uncomfortable. Hoseok cooed at a baby turtle as it struggled to keep up with its peers while Jimin took photos of an ancient tortoise sleeping in a corner. 

“Hey, um, Hoseok hyung?”

Hoseok looked questioningly at Jimin.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Hoseok sat down on a bench and patted the seat next to him, “Ask away.”

Jimin’s leg jiggled nervously as he opened and closed his mouth a number of times. “I-I just-actually never mind. It’s okay. Forget it.”

Hoseok felt concern ripple through him as he took in Jimin’s crestfallen face. He’d only known the guy for a couple days but something about him made Hoseok feel a surge of protectiveness well up inside him. He just couldn’t stand to see Jimin look so sad. It felt wrong.

“Hey, don’t do that. If you have something on your mind, just tell me,” Hoseok said, putting a gentle hand on Jimin’s arm.

Jimin took a deep breath, “Fine. But just…promise you won’t tell anyone else?”

Oh. Oh god. Was Jimin about to confess the whole fake dating thing to him? Right now? That would be so perfect for Namjoon and Hoseok’s plans! It would be–

He took in Jimin’s nervous body language, his worried eyes and his shaking leg.

–horrible. He couldn’t use Jimin’s confession against him. Not when he looked so miserable. Not when he was trusting Hoseok, despite being near strangers.

“Promise,” Hoseok said, holding out his pinky first this time and giving Jimin’s pinky a reassuring squeeze when they curled their fingers together.

“Okay,” Jimin sighed, “I’m glad to be here and I’m glad I met all of you but…I just feel like…like maybe it’s not right.”

Hoseok cocked his head, “What do you mean?”

“I’m not rich like you guys,” Jimin said, the words tumbling out in a rush like they’d been held back for far too long, “I’m just…middle-class. We don’t have vacation homes or fancy offices or any of that stuff. Like, I’ve been doing this sucky bartender job forever, I even do extra shifts and part-time on the weekends at a coffee shop and I’m still barely making rent. And you guys are…you’re not like that.”

He made a frustrated noise, “I don’t know. I feel like I don’t fit in here. I don’t fit in with you guys and I don’t fit in with Taehyung either. He’s wayyyyy out of my league. I mean, he’s a movie star! He’s supposed to work with Bong Joon-Ho next year! Oscar winner Bong Joon-Ho! And I’m…”

“Stop.” Hoseok took both of Jimin’s hands in his, “That’s enough Jiminie slander for one day.”

“It’s just the truth.”

“No. It’s some of the truth. But not all of it. Your whole identity isn’t “not being rich”, Jimin-ah. Don’t make it that. Your identity is that you’re a hard worker. I mean, two jobs and a college degree at the same time? Are you kidding me? Even without that, I’ve known you for what, forty-eight hours? And I can already tell that you’re a warm, kind person with a personality better than ninety-nine percent of all the rich people I know. You’re sweet and patient and not to mention, drop dead gorgeous. If anyone’s out of anyone’s league here, it’s you. Trust me.”

Jimin looked down at his feet, his lips jutted out into a pout. He kicked at the floor, “You’re a nice person. And I guess what you just said is what I wanted to hear. But I can’t help it, I feel wrong. In that house, sitting at that dinner table, prete– being Taehyung’s boyfriend. It’s like I’m wearing a jacket that’s three sizes too big for me, hoping that if I try hard enough, for long enough, it’ll magically fit.”

Hoseok let go of Jimin’s hands in favour of wrapping his arms around Jimin’s small, lean body. He hooked his chin over Jimin’s shoulder, squeezing the other man to himself in hopes that he could dispel some of those clawing insecurities through sheer force of will. 

“I think you fit in just as well as any of us. But I know that’s easier said than believed. So for now, I’m sorry you feel this way, Minnie.”

Jimin chuckled and glanced to the side, “Minnie?”

Hoseok shrugged. At least, he tried to. It came off more as a weak wiggle, given that he was tightly wrapped around another person.

“You seem like a Minnie. It’s a cute name, like you.”

Jimin smiled. It was a small smile, but it looked genuine enough for Hoseok to feel satisfied. 

“I have to say hyung, you give really great hugs.”

“I do,” Hoseok said proudly, “One might even say it’s my specialty.”

He gave Jimin one last squeeze before releasing him. Standing up, he offered Jimin his hand, “Come on. Let’s go see the rest of the place together. Just us misfits.”

Jimin snorted as he accepted Hoseok’s hand, “You? A misfit? Please. I think you’d fit into a group of monks if you had to.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Hoseok wrinkled his nose, “I don’t think I’d ever be able to pull off the whole bald aesthetic.”

“They’d love you nonetheless, hair and all. You’re just that kind of person.”

Hoseok shook his head, “I’m not. Sure, I’m loud and friendly on the outside, I guess. But on the inside? I’m always at least twenty percent freaking out about…well, about everything. And here, on this vacation, I think that number’s been cranked up to a solid eighty percent.”

Jimin’s brows furrowed. He stopped walking abruptly, yanking Hoseok backwards by the hand. “Why? Are you…is something bothering you?”

If being trapped into an arranged marriage with a man who resembled the puke face emoji every time he looked at Hoseok counted as a bother then yes, there was something bothering him. But it’s not like he could tell Jimin that. Not without risking the chances of Mission Kimpossible succeeding.

Great. Now he’s calling it by Namjoon’s stupid name too. Why did it have to be so damn catchy?

“It’s fine. It’s nothing. Really.”

Jimin didn’t look convinced. He prods, “You can tell me, I promise. I mean, you just let me whine to you despite having known me for two days. I’d love to return the favour, if you need me to.”

Hoseok considered it. As much as he would like to vent and rage about the situation he’d found himself in, he really couldn’t afford to tell Jimin the truth.

“Maybe some other time,” he said, pulling Jimin forward, “For now, I want to mispronounce every scientific name in here and piss Namjoon-ssi off.”

“Gosh, you guys have a weird way of flirting.”

Hoseok’s head whipped to the side so fast he felt a couple bones creak in protest, “Who’s flirting? No one’s flirting. What do you mean?”

The look Jimin gave him was amused. “Hyung, come on. Last night at dinner? All that sexual tension and banter? And today? You guys spent the whole car ride whispering to each other! Like, what was that about?”

Huh. Well. He supposed the whispering could have looked like something…intimate. Although he had no idea what Jimin meant by sexual tension. There was nothing of that kind between him and Namjoon, no matter how beefy the other man’s thighs were or how incredibly sexy his dimples looked when he did that smirk–

What. No. No no. Hoseok, you cannot go down that road right now. The guy doesn’t even like you! Don’t thirst after his dimples! What the hell is wrong with you?

Though Jimin thinking the two of them were - ugh - flirting was pretty good for the plan. It meant the whole “pretend to like each other” shtick was working. And without them actually doing anything to milk it.

Is that really a good thing? Doesn’t that mean–

Nope. It doesn’t mean anything. Except that their plan is going well. That is all it means. Nothing else.

“Well I guess,” Hoseok said slowly, “He’s…cute.”

Jimin waggled his eyebrows, “Oh is he?”

“Shut up,” Hoseok couldn’t help the bashful laugh that bubbled up his throat, “As if you didn’t spend the ride practically giving Taehyung a lap dance.”

“He’s my…boyfriend. I can do that. But you, on the other hand…” Jimin trailed off, a single brow jumping up and down meaningfully. Hoseok pretended not to notice the hesitation before the word “boyfriend” as he playfully narrowed his eyes at Jimin and dragged him over to the touch tank.

Namjoon and Soobin were bent over the side of it, noses nearly touching the water. Hoseok suppressed a laugh as Namjoon lost his balance and nearly tumbled face-first into the tank, hands gripping the edge of the glass enclosure while he let out a panicked yelp.

“No one saw that,” Namjoon muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

“Hmm,” Hoseok sat down at the edge of the tank, “I feel like that group of schoolkids pointing at you definitely saw something.”

Namjoon’s eyes widened and he turned around, cringing at the sight of the giggling kids. 

“I don’t know him! Stranger danger!” Soobin declared loudly, scooting further away from his cousin.

Hoseok laughed. He looked down into the touch tank and instantly let out a yelp of his own as a tiny shark bumped up against his hand, its beady eyes looking curiously up at him.

“Jeez, would you relax?” Namjoon hissed, “It’s harmless.”

“It’s a shark!”

“It’s smaller than your arm!”

“It’s smaller than your arm!” Hoseok complained. He added, “Then again, what isn’t?”

Namjoon blinked. “What?”

“Nothing!” Hoseok flailed, giving a snickering Jimin the stink eye.

“Look,” Namjoon shifted closer, submerging his hand and holding it out towards the shark and letting it swim cautiously towards him, “It means no harm. Just wants to make some friends.”

The shark bumped its nose against Namjoon’s palm before swimming off. A baby manta ray took its place, slowly flapping its way over to where Namjoon now had both hands dipped in the water.

Hoseok gaped as the ray trailed after Namjoon’s hands, who was moving his palms left and right through the water while emitting a high-pitched coo that went “Mimimimimimimimi.”

“Wow,” Jimin whispered, face awed, “He’s like a Disney princess.”

He was like a Disney princess. By the time Hoseok managed to get his jaw off the floor, Namjoon had summoned a small court of sharks and rays that circled around his hands, occasionally allowing themselves to be booped with the tip of his index. Another court, this one comprising of Hoseok, Jimin, Yoongi and the remaining Kim cousins, stood in a loose semi-circle behind Namjoon, all displaying varying degrees of disbelief.

“Thousand won says he’s going to break into song any minute,” Seokjin whispered.

“You’re on,” Moonbyul and Yoongi chorused.

Namjoon, oblivious to his audience, continued to murmur to his little fishy court. When he started humming, Seokjin let out a hushed “Yes!” and beckoned Moonbyul and Yoongi, who begrudgingly reached into their pockets to dig out the money.

Bidding his underwater kingdom goodbye, Namjoon turned around. The row of bemused faces startled him so hard he jumped a foot into the air, “What the fuck!”

“Hey!” a middle-aged lady yelled, her hands clamped over her son’s ears, “There’s children here!”

“Sorry!” Namjoon called out, shrinking under her glare. “Why are you staring at me?”

Eunchae responded, “I’ve always wanted to see the live action Little Mermaid.”

"What?”

“You’re like a shark whisperer,” Yoongi remarked.

Taehyung nodded, “A fish charmer.” When no one reacted, he continued, “You know. Like a snake charmer but for fish.”

Seokjin rolled his eyes, “Thanks, Tae. How would we ever have decoded that without your help?”

“Hey–”

“Okay, I see we’re spiralling and before you start pulling each other’s hair, I’m gonna bounce,” Moonbyul interrupted. She held up her phone, a smug smile on her lips, “Got a match.”

Seokjin gasped, loud and exaggerated, “You’re abandoning your family for a hookup ?”

“I absolutely am. Goodbye!”

“Ooh, I’ve gotta go too!” Eunchae piped up, “My friend just texted me. She’s got extra tickets for the new Park Seo-joon movie!”

“Oh! Can I come? Park Seo-joon is so cool! Pleeeeease?” Soobin clasped his hands together and gave Eunchae a pleading look. 

She squinted, “Only if you promise not to embarrass me.”

“Promise! I’ll be such a cool guy, no one will even believe I’m related to you.”

“Watch it,” Eunchae smacked Soobin across the head, “I’m only so generous.”

Soobin mimed zipping his lips shut, doing a silent fist pump into the air.

“Why aren’t any of you ever this excited about any of my movies?” Taehyung pouted. Eunchae made a face, “Uh because I don’t wanna see my cousin making out with someone on a huge screen? Ew.”

“Oh and Park Seo-joon shoving his tongue down someone’s throat is fine?” 

Eunchae clapped her hands, “Absolutely!”

She started to follow Moonbyul out of the aquarium but Yoongi’s hand shot out, blocking her path, “Hang on a second. Who is this friend? How do you know her? When will you be back? Who else is going with you guys?”

“Man,” Seokjin whistled, “It sure is hot when Yoongi-chi goes into Dad Mode. Go on baby, tell her she’s grounded.”

Yoongi’s ears burned scarlet but he kept his stern gaze fixed on Eunchae, who returned the stare for all of two seconds before she groaned, “Oh come on, oppa. It’s a friend from school. Or we used to go to school together but then her family moved to Jeju last year. We’re going with a couple of her new friends and I’ll be back for dinner. Happy? Can I go now?”

“Text me your friend’s number.”

“What? No way! I’m not five!”

“Eunchae,” Yoongi crossed his arms. Hoseok mentally agreed with Seokjin as he watched Yoongi and Eunchae have a silent stand-off. Dad Mode really did do wonders for Yoongi’s hotness. With his oversized denim shirt and his strict demeanour, the man was radiating DILF energy all over the place.

“Ugh, fine,” Eunchae conceded, “I’ll text it to you.”

“Thank you. And if you don’t respond within five minutes when I text you, I’m calling the cops,” Yoongi replied.

“Sheesh. Is it getting hot in here or is it just me?” Seokjin wondered aloud, fanning himself with one hand and pulling at his collar with the other.

“Stop getting turned on in the middle of a family-friendly aquarium,” Namjoon muttered.

“Sorry, Joonie! Gotta appreciate my man at all times of the day.”

Yoongi scoffed, “He’s just trying to butter me up so I’ll give him the right side of the bed. Which is never going to happen, so quit it.”

He sent Eunchae and Soobin off with a few more threats and then looked at the group, “Who’s hungry?”

A volley of hands shot up. Yoongi chuckled, “Let’s go then. I know just the place.”

Seokjin threw an arm around Yoongi’s shoulders, “Your competence is sexy as hell.”

“Nice try. Still not giving you the side.”

“You are literally so mean to me.”

Taehyung wound his arm around Jimin’s waist, “Glad we don’t have these problems, huh babe?”

“Which sides do you sleep on?” Namjoon asked. Hoseok pursed his lips to keep from laughing at Namjoon’s unsubtle expression. With how hard he was playing detective, Hoseok thought he should’ve brought a beret and a magnifying glass to really seal the deal.

“The same one,” Taehyung winked. Jimin shoved Taehyung with his elbow, “Shut up!”

“What? It’s true.”

“You don’t have to go around advertising it.”

Taehyung kissed Jimin on the cheek, “Oops.”

Hoseok watched Jimin’s eyes crinkle with the force of his smile. He observed the way Jimin threaded his fingers through Taehyung’s as they walked, saw the way his face lit up every time he met Taehyung’s eyes.

With a jolt, he realised he knew something neither Jimin or Taehyung did. Or at least, something that neither of them were willing to admit out loud. It made Hoseok’s conscience prick at him, made him second-guess the plan he and Namjoon were trying to carry out. 

Should he rampage through the delicate thing blooming between those two, just to satisfy his own motives? Is that…too selfish?

“They’re laying it on thick today,” Namjoon commented, falling into step beside Hoseok.

“Who?”

“All of them,” Namjoon rolled his eyes. He put on a mocking tone, “Ooh Yoongi is so hot when he’s being a dad! Ooh Jimin and I sleep on top of each other like a stack of pancakes! Mwah mwah mwah!”

He retched, “As if anyone would buy any of that.”

Before Hoseok could respond, his phone pinged with a text. He opened it, a fond smile tugging at his lips.

Jungkook [1:23pm]

The demons broke my MAMA award

I’m signing them up for adoption right NOW

Hoseok [1:23pm]

At least tell me it wasn’t a daesang

Jungkook [1:23pm]

Artist of the Year!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭

Hoseok [1:23pm]

Oh yikes

Maybe adoption isn’t a bad idea

Jungkook [1:24pm]

Dispatch thinks I’m on a vacation with my “secret” lover right now

Can someone call and tell them I’m cleaning my dignity off the floor?

Hoseok [1:24pm]

😂😂😂😂😂

If it makes you feel any better, I almost got my hand bitten off by a shark

Jungkook [1:24pm]

WHAT

Hoseok [1:24pm]

Well

It was a small shark

In the touch tank

But it was still scary!!!

Jungkook [1:25pm]

Oh man, I’ve not been to the aquarium in years

I should take the demons

Maybe I can feed them to one of the big sharks

How’s it going with the Hot Crab Man?

Hoseok [1:25pm]

Turns out, he’s a Disney princess in disguise

The guy can literally communicate with marine animals

It’s freaky

Jungkook [1:25pm]

You’re saying “freaky” but I’m reading “sexy”

Hoseok [1:25pm]

…

Jungkook [1:25pm]

😏😏😏😏

Hoseok [1:25pm]

It may have been…a little bit…

………sexy

Jungkook [1:26pm]

GOTCHA

You’ve got the hots for the Crab Man!!!!

Hoseok [1:26pm]

No!!!!

His attractiveness doesn’t negate the fact that he’s kind of a dick

And he doesn’t even like me

At all!!!

Jungkook [1:26pm]

Mmkay

If you say so

Meanwhile I’m just waiting for the plot twist

I have faith in whoever’s writing this rom-com 😉

Hoseok [1:27pm]

Still a horror movie from my point of view but alrigh

*alright

Gotta go, we’re going to get lunch

Jungkook [1:27pm]

Okay 😢

I’ll go back to piecing my daesang together with glue

Maybe it’ll look more artsy now

See you around!

Hoseok pocketed his phone, looking up and finding Namjoon giving him a dubious stare.

“What?”

“Do you have a boyfriend back home or something?”

“Heh? Namjoon-ssi, if I had a boyfriend back home, why would I even be here?”

Namjoon didn’t look convinced, “You had a really weird smile on your face while texting…whoever you were texting. Is it some kind of secret fling your parents won’t approve of?”

“No! Stop nosing into my business!”

“Hey, as long as Mission Kimpossible is on, your business is my business.”

Hoseok raised a brow, “No it’s not. This has nothing to do with Mission Kimpo–”

He stopped. Namjoon glanced at him, “Say it.”

“No.”

“You agreed to the name! You have to say it.”

“Leave me alone.”

“Say it,” Namjoon poked Hoseok’s arm, “Come on, I know you want to.”

“No.”

“Say it.”

“ No. Go away.”

“I will if you say it.”

“...Mission Kimpossible.”

“And the crowd cheers! Woohoo!” Namjoon made his shoulders bounce, fists waving in the air.

Hoseok bemusedly watched the guy he was desperately trying to hate make silly faces and whoop as he danced down the parking lot to the car. He felt a goofy smile of his own break out when Namjoon tripped over his own feet in the middle of a skip.

Stooooooop. Stop it! Stop it now!

“You know, if you have a secret boyfriend, this whole thing could be over really soon,” Namjoon put his arms down, “All you have to do is own up to it.”

Once again, with surprising ease, Namjoon made annoyance speedily take over Hoseok’s burgeoning positive feelings.  

“For the last time, I do not have a boyfriend. If you so desperately need to know, I was texting a friend.”

“No one smiles like that while texting a friend.”

“I don’t know how to tell you this Namjoon-ssi, but maybe you need better friends.”

Namjoon eyed Hoseok, “I don’t buy it.”

Hoseok exhaled slowly, trying to will his irritation down, “That’s fine by me.”

He refused to engage with Namjoon further, getting into the car and pointedly staring out the window during the ride. The guy had a talent for getting on his nerves five seconds after Hoseok decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Gosh, he was a real piece of work. Hoseok pitied whichever poor soul would eventually end up with him - they’d be signing up to have their emotions shuttle from side to side like the ball in a tennis match, for the rest of their lives. 

I’m just glad it’s not going to be me. Whew!

The coffee table was piled high with games - UNO, Monopoly, Scotland Yard, Snakes and Ladders and a bunch of others. The fireplace (that Namjoon had no idea actually worked) had been resuscitated with a crackling fire (courtesy Yoongi) and trays of homemade snacks (courtesy Seokjin) were being passed around between the people scattered across the living room.

From his vantage point, curled up in a couch on one end of the coffee table, Namjoon (with the Mission Impossible theme playing in his head) surveyed his targets. 

Earlier in the evening, Seokjin and Yoongi had been revolving around each other with easy familiarity as they set up the room for game night, working in sync as they dug out old games and set out pillows and blankets on the couches. It wasn’t anything new, this was how they’d always been. Right from the day Seokjin had brought home a mint-haired nineteen-year-old who flicked Namjoon on the forehead for pushing his brother while Seokjin patched up Taehyung’s scratched knee, Namjoon’s two hyungs had been extensions of each other - like two Airpods in a set, connected to the same frequency.

Even though the timing of them getting their heads out of their asses was inconvenient as hell, on some level, Namjoon had always assumed Seokjin and Yoongi would end up together. And he wasn’t alone in his assumptions. Taehyung had whined to him time and again about how he was “so over” the mutual pining and “wished they bang it out already” (Namjoon had smacked Taehyung up the head for that one. He did not need to think about his hyungs hooking up. No thank you). Even his mother had once pulled him aside to ask if “it had happened” and when Namjoon had looked back blankly, she’d hissed, “Yoongi and Seokjin. They had to have gotten together after Jang Yijeong got out of the picture, right?”

Unfortunately for Mrs. Kim, Yoongi’s breakup with his boyfriend of two years hadn’t resulted in either Seokjin or Yoongi acting on the feelings that everyone around them was waiting for them to admit to. That was around the time Namjoon started doubting whether they’d ever admit to it or whether they’d keep doing this weird dance of denial for the rest of their lives. 

Looking at them now, pushing glasses of juice (for the kids) and soju (for the adults) into people’s hands, whispering to each other and sporting shy smiles, Namjoon started to wonder whether they had in fact gotten their heads on straight overnight and confessed to each other after all.

“Just let him have a sip Yoongichi, come on now.”

Yoongi plucked the soju out of Soobin’s hands, “Absolutely not. And you,” he pointed at Seokjin, “Stop encouraging him.”

When Yoongi disappeared into the kitchen to fetch more crackers, Seokjin swiped a glass off the tray and pressed it to Soobin’s lips, “Sip, sip. Hurry up, he’ll be back any second.”

In his excitement, Soobin gulped down a third of the liquid sloshing in the glass and immediately burst out coughing, fist slamming into his chest, tears pooling in his eyes. 

“Hyung!” Yoongi cried out, setting down the crackers and thumping Soobin on the back, “I told you not to! Why don’t you ever listen?”

“Hey! I told him to sip it, not chug the whole thing! How is this my fault?” Seokjin yelled as he hurried off to the kitchen, presumably to get some water for the boy who was hacking his lungs out.

“That was disgusting! Why do people want to drink that?” Soobin choked out, his face red from the exertion. 

“It’s a secret you only unlock after you turn nineteen,” Yoongi replied calmly, accepting the glass of water from Seokjin’s outstretched hand and tipping it into Soobin’s mouth.

They’re parents. They’re literally parenting right now.

Namjoon chewed at his lip. This was so bad for him. If Yoongi and Seokjin were really dating, his only viable escape route out of the arranged marriage situation was Taehyung and Jimin. At least with them, he knew for sure it was fake.

He could do with some reassurance though.

“Hey Jimin,” he called, “What’s Taehyung’s favourite colour?”

On the other end of the coffee table, Jimin blinked. “Why?”

“Oh you know, just feel like I should know more about my brothers. We’re on vacation after all. What better time to bond, eh?”

Next to Jimin, crushed to one side of the armchair they were both sitting in, Taehyung squinted at his brother, “What are you doing, hyung?”

“Nothing,” Namjoon schooled his expression into the very picture of innocence, “Just making conversation.”

“Why didn’t you ask me then?”

Good question. Swerve, Namjoon, swerve hard!

“Because I already listen to you talk too much on the daily. Shut up and let Jimin speak.”

“Hey!” Taehyung glowered, “I bless you with my presence and this is what I get in return? Insults and an admission that you don’t even know what my favourite colour is?”

“It’s teal,” Jimin interrupted, squeezing Taheyung consolingly with the arm wrapped around his boyfriend, “It’s all over his apartment.”

“Huh,” Namjoon sulked quietly, “Good to know.”

He caught Hoseok’s eye, his sulking intensifying when he found the other guy giggling into his hand.

“That was terrible,” Hoseok mouthed to him, “You suck.”

“Fuck off,” Namjoon mouthed back. He crossed his arms and sank back into his armchair.

At least he tried. Unlike some people who haven’t been doing shit to help their mission succeed.

“Alright kids, pick the game,” Uncle Jaehyun spoke up, raising his arms in surrender when the room dissolved into a cacophony of different names being shouted over each other, “Never mind. The guests get to pick.”

He looked to Jimin, who shrugged amiably, “I’m good with anything.”

“Babe!” Taehyung pouted, “You should’ve given your vote to me!”

“Too late!” Eunchae chirped, responding to Taehyung’s glare with a sunny smile, “It’s Hobi hyung’s turn.”

“Hmm,” Hoseok stroked his chin, “Monopoly?”

“Great choice!” Taehyung made a finger heart at Hoseok, “I’m going to destroy all of you.”

Three rounds of Monopoly later, he buried his face into Jimin’s lap. “You’re all cheaters,” came a muffled complaint.

“And you’re clearly terrible with money,” Mrs. Kim replied. She wagged a finger at Jimin, “Don’t ever let him be in charge of your finances after you get married. I’m warning you.”

Jimin startled, several emotions flashing across his face before he managed to get out a soft, “I won’t.”

While everyone went back to clearing away the games and chattering, Namjoon zeroed in on the way Taehyung tensed as he lifted his head out of Jimin’s lap and caught the other’s tremulous expression. He couldn’t hear what they were saying to each other, but he could deduce that it wasn’t good, judging from the way Taehyung’s expression had become pinched in the way it did when he was worried. 

Immersed in his investigation of all the micro-expressions taking residence on his brother’s face, Namjoon didn’t notice Hoseok plopping down on the armrest and leaning down to whisper into his ear, “That doesn’t look good.”

“WHAT THE–” Namjoon jumped. It took him about three seconds to realise that Hoseok’s face was far too close to his own, and once that realisation managed to spur his brain into action, he leaned as far away as he could before responding with, “Hi.”

Hoseok gave him a nonplussed look, “Hi?”

“What’s up?”

“...are you okay?”

Sure. He was fine. He could smell Hoseok’s lavender and vanilla again, but it was fine. He’d just noticed a mole on Hoseok’s upper lip, but that was fine too. It was all totally fine.

“Mm,” Namjoon shot Hoseok a thumbs up.

“As I was saying,” Hoseok continued, though he looked slightly concerned with the way Namjoon was probably purpling in his efforts not to breathe too deeply, “I think they’re cracking.”

He jutted a thumb towards Taehyung and Jimin, the two of whom were still frozen in their place on the carpet in the middle of the room. Jimin was shaking his head, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, while Taehyung’s hands were hovering around his shoulders, as if he suddenly couldn’t muster up the courage to hug the person whose lap he’d been nuzzling just minutes prior.

“Should we…do something?” Hoseok asked, his tone tentative.

Namjoon glanced sideways. There was a strange expression on Hoseok’s face, something bordering on doubt.

No no. He looks like he’s going to back out. He can’t do that. Namjoon will lose his one ally and Mission Kimpossible will definitely go down the drain on the spot.

“I saw you and Jimin get pretty comfortable with each other at the aquarium. Did he tell you something good?”

Hoseok’s face shuttered, “Nope.”

Bullshit. The guy was as transparent as glass. He was definitely covering for Jimin, but why?

“Hoseok-ssi. If you don’t help me out here, we’re going to be signing forms and exchanging rings soon. Knowing my mother, probably right after we get back to Seoul. Do you want that to happen?”

Hoseok scoffed, “God no.”

Okay. A bit too much force on that “no” but fine, Namjoon will let it slide. As long as he volunteers the dirt he clearly has on Jimin.

“I just,” Hoseok hesitated, “I know Jimin has some reservations about his relationship with Taehyung.”

Namjoon took in the way Jimin’s neck had reddened, the hard lines of his face matching Taehyung’s as they continued to speak in low tones.

They were arguing. It was hushed, probably not that clear to anyone who’s not actively trying to tear them apart, but it was evident to Namjoon. He felt a spike of older brother protectiveness surge up inside him. After Kihyun, Taehyung had been incredibly guarded when it came to his heart. And with good reason. Not only had Namjoon had watched his brother’s heart shatter, but he’d also, alongside Seokjin and their mother, coached Taehyung through the years he’d spent trying to piece it back together. The last thing he wanted, after all the drama that had transpired, was for someone else to come in and take a sledgehammer to something that was already so fragile.

Namjoon frowned, “What kind of reservations?”

Hoseok shook his head, “That’s not my place to say.”

He’s so fucking unhelpful. Why even bother telling Namjoon half a piece of information if he’s going to keep the most important parts to himself?

“Great, thanks. How charitable of you to give me, oh yeah, nothing .”

“You know, for someone who came up with this whole Mission Kimpossible thing in the first place, you have no idea what you’re doing. I mean, what the fuck is step one here? Do you even have an actual plan?”

“Of course I do!”

(He didn’t. But he didn’t want to look stupid.)

“My plan is to get them to admit they’re lying,” Namjoon sniped.

Hoseok sighed, “How?”

“Uh…”

“You are so, so bad at this. Thank god you never decided to become a detective or something. They’d kick you out on the first day.”

“Please. As if you’re any better than me. You won’t even share critical information that could help us out! That makes you worse!”

Hoseok ignored him, eyes trained on the way Jimin shrugged out of Taehyung’s hold and sunk into a couch, pointedly looking away when Taehyung sat down next to him.

“You said they’re friends with benefits, right? So it’s a casual thing. Now I don’t know about Jimin, but does that mean there’s someone else Taehyung really likes?”

Namjoon considered it. Taehyung hadn’t mentioned any names in the last couple years. They’d all just assumed he was taking a break from dating after Kihyun’s cheating ass had been disposed of. 

“Not really.” A thought struck him and Namjoon snorted, “Unless you count Jeon Jungkook.”

That got him a reaction he didn’t expect. Hoseok’s head snapped towards him so fast, Namjoon wondered how his neck didn’t crack. With wide eyes, Hoseok asked, “The idol?”

“Er…yeah. Taehyung’s a huge fan. I think they’ve gone to some publicity stuff together, but they’ve never spoken. Of course that doesn’t mean I didn’t get a whole soliloquy about the guy’s arms when Tae got home. He’s always way too descriptive, I mean, do I really need to know what some guy’s adam’s apple looks like when he drinks champa–”

“Shut up. Shut up right now,” Hoseok clapped a hand over Namjoon’s mouth.

Namjoon ripped away Hoseok’s hand, trying not to focus on how slender and small it looked wrapped in his own, “What? I’m just saying I don’t wanna hear about the way someone’s throat looks–”

Hoseok waved away his complaints. “No one cares. Listen to me. I just thought of step one.”

Oh. Okay. That was quick.

“Go on.”

“Seduction,” Hoseok said proudly.

What now?

“If Taehyung’s not serious about Jimin, we can totally catch him out. I can get Jungkook to come here and–”

Wait. Hold on a second. What?

Namjoon held up a hand, “What do you mean you can get Jungkook to come here?”

“Oh. Oh right. We’re friends,” Hoseok said simply. “Anyway he’s here in Jeju right now too, oh this is perfect. I’ll just call him over for lunch or something–”

“You’re friends with Jeon Jungkook? And you’re telling me he’s here?”

“Namjoon-ssi,” Hoseok sighed exasperatedly, “I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

How dare he? Namjoon is smart! He’s just getting a lot of information thrown at him all at once. Even fucking Einstein would struggle with suddenly finding out his potential fiancé is friends with the most famous person in the country!

Namjoon bit back, “I just can’t wrap my head around the fact that you’re friends with Jeon Jungkook. I thought he’d have better taste, that’s all.”

“Oh ha ha,” Hoseok rolled his eyes, “You’re hilarious. Just as hilarious as this afternoon when you thought he was my boyfriend.”

Wait a second. The texter. The one that had Hoseok all smiley and giggly. That was Jeon freaking Jungkook? What the actual fuck.

“How good a friend is he?” Namjoon narrowed his eyes at Hoseok, “Because I can’t let you set up your fling with my brother. That’s too weird.”

“I can’t believe you still haven’t let that go. He’s my friend . And he’s a chill guy. All we have to do is get him to come here and flirt with Taehyung a little, and see what happens. If Taehyung’s not serious about Jimin–”

“–why do you keep assuming it’s Taehyung who’s not serious? You just said Jimin has reservations about them. Honestly, I think Jimin’s the flaky one.”

“He’s not flaky,” Hoseok argued, “He has concerns and they’re all very valid.”

“But you won’t tell me what they are.”

“It’s none of your business,” Hoseok replied primly. “I’ll text Jungkook to come over tomorrow, after we get back from Minji-ssi’s place.”

Namjoon blinked, “We’re going to Minji-ssi’s place tomorrow?”

“Oh,” Hoseok smiled, deceptively innocent, “Didn’t I tell you? Oops.”

“Were you going to kidnap me out of bed in the morning?”

“No?” Hoseok paused. “I was going to dump a bucket of water on your head.”

“How sweet. I’ll remember that when you’re getting murdered by a serial killer grandma and I’m booking it out of there.”

Hoseok laughed, the sound bright and bubbly and entirely too pleasing to Namjoon’s ears. He pinched the inside of his wrist, the pain snapping him out of thinking dangerous thoughts such as how pretty Hoseok’s smile was, heart-shaped and wide, how cutely his eyes crinkled with the force of his laughter, how his voice was deep and gravelly but his laugh was squeaky and high-pitched.

Nope. He did not need to be thinking these things. They were irrelevant. Not interesting or fascinating or heartwarming in any way, shape or form. Nuh uh.

He continued reminding himself this once the living room cleared out, with the exception of Yoongi who was doing the Yoongi-est thing ever and fluffing the pillows that had been squashed by people’s Monopoly-induced rage.

“Need some help?” Namjoon offered.

Yoongi didn’t look up from his fluffing as he replied, “Not really looking to make these explode, so no thanks.”

Namjoon didn’t protest. He couldn’t even get mad, given that he had - accidentally - squeezed a pillow too hard and ended up getting cotton stuffing all over the floor. Only once though.

…okay maybe twice.

“I was going to break out some whiskey and go sit on the porch for a bit,” Yoongi said, “You can join me if you want.”

That’s how they ended up sitting across from each other, nursing their whiskeys and gazing up at the stars that dotted Jeju’s clear, midnight sky. It was relieving to be away from Hoseok’s dizzying presence for a bit, Namjoon’s mind finally able to function to the best of its ability. Sitting here in companionable silence with his hyung, he could calmly consider Hoseok’s idea: dangling Jeon Jungkook as bait to see if Taehyung and Jimin’s facade held up in the presence of someone who could charm one of them away.

It wasn’t a bad idea, he conceded. He knew just how starry-eyed Taehyung got whenever Jungkook’s name was mentioned. It might even be…well, brilliant.

Not that he would ever tell Hoseok that.

“You like him,” Yoongi commented.

Namjoon choked on a sip, “Excuse me?”

“Hoseok,” Yoongi went on, unperturbed, “You like him, don’t you?”

“I–”

Namjoon wished he could tell Yoongi the truth. All his life, Yoongi had been his go-to person whenever he had to seek advice from someone he knew and trusted. He knew only this hyung could help him make sense of the contrasting emotions that Hoseok stirred up inside him - an incoherent mix of annoyance and attraction that Namjoon had no idea how to even begin to untangle.

But he couldn’t give the truth up. Not yet, at least.

“I guess so,” he grumbled, gulping down some more liquid courage to help him get through the rest of the conversation.

“I like him for you.”

And that…that meant something. Coming from Yoongi especially, it meant a whole lot. It was curiosity, Namjoon reasoned, only curiosity and nothing else that made him press for more. 

“You do?”

Yoongi nodded slowly, one finger circling the rim of his glass. He looked thoughtful, “No offence or anything, but you can be a lot sometimes.”

Some offence taken.

“He seems like he can handle it though. And he’s smart and kind and clearly fits in well with the family, if the way Eunchae hangs onto every word he says is any indication.” Yoongi chuckles, “Plus he’s very pretty. I’m sure that helps.”

He is very pretty. His wrists are so tiny. Namjoon could probably circle his thumb and index around both wrists at once.

Of course, he didn’t say any of that aloud. What he said, very intelligently, was “yeah.”

Yoongi didn't poke at that answer. He simply poured more whiskey into his glass, tipping some into Namjoon’s as well. That’s what Namjoon loved about him. Yoongi never rushed anyone, never demanded an explanation for things the other person was yet to understand for themselves. He was patient and willing to wait it out until he was approached voluntarily. Namjoon supposed that was why he’d always found reprieve in Yoongi’s presence— it was the steadiest thing he’d ever known.

Although he did have some questions for Yoongi, about Yoongi. 

“Hyung? Yesterday, at lunch, was Soobin telling the truth? About you and Jin hyung…kissing?”

Yoongi stared straight ahead, his tongue pressing into the inside of his cheek, “Yeah.”

“Is that when you guys got together?”

“No.”

Well okay then. Guess direct questioning won’t cut it.

“Did you…” Yoongi trailed off. He squared his shoulders and resumed, “Did you bet on us too?”

“Nope. Taehyung tried to bait me into it, but I’m too impatient to wait these things out. Why?”

Yoongi chuckled again, but there was no humour in it. It was a dry sound, almost scornful. “Everyone seems to have known about us for longer than we have. It’s funny.”

“I mean, it kinda seemed inevitable.”

“Did it now?”

“You both have always been so…I don’t know. Synchronised. Like it takes you guys no effort to be around each other. And you’re always a team. A package deal. So it just…made sense that you would eventually start dating each other.”

Yoongi stayed silent. Namjoon pressed on, “And also, you probably know this, but Jin hyung was really cut up about you dating Yijeong hyung. He was a monster for those two years. All snappy and sulky and stand-offish. It was so out of character for him, eomma thought he’d been possessed.”

In his mother’s defence, Namjoon had almost believed her “demon possession” theory for himself. His usually happy-go-lucky hyung had shrivelled into a shadow of himself, spending his weekends at the office and refusing to attend any event where Yoongi and Yijeong would be present – always citing work as an excuse, even though his assistant Seulgi confirmed that he’d achieved all his deadlines two months in advance. It had been a long and uncomfortable two years, and the entire Kim family had let out relieved sighs (in private) when Yoongi had told them of his breakup.

“You wanna know a secret, Joon-ah?” Yoongi drawled, his words slurring slightly.

Namjoon eyed the glass in Yoongi’s hand. When had he finished it off? And when had the whiskey in the bottle halved itself? How many drinks had Yoongi poured while Namjoon was stargazing?

“Uhm, sure?”

Yoongi giggled. He giggled. At nothing. He was giggling into his glass, shoulders shaking as the laughter burst out of him in spurts.

“We’re not dating.”

“Uh,” Namjoon barely heard Yoongi’s confession, occupied as he was with making sure his clearly tipsy hyung didn’t topple out of his chair, “That’s nice.”

“No,” Yoongi pouted, “It sucks.”

Hold on. Did he just say they’re NOT dating?

“Hyung what? What did you just say?” Namjoon kneeled in front of Yoongi’s chair, propping him up with his hands clutching the drunk man’s arms, “You’re not dating Jin hyung?”

“Nope,” Yoongi replied, popping the “p” and dissolving into another bout of giggles, “We’ve never dated, we’re not dating and we never will date. We’re gonna be hot, single friends forever!”

Fuck. This is amazing. Yoongi hyung literally just confessed. TO Namjoon! In person! This is the best fucking thing that could have happened. And it just happened!

“We’re gonna,” Yoongi hiccuped, “We’re gonna be best friends and then Seokjin’s gonna marry someone else and I’m gonna be the fucking loser watching from the sidelines.”

Huh. That’s slightly less amazing. 

Namjoon sat Yoongi up straight, “What’s going on here? I’ve never seen you get this drunk off a couple glasses of whiskey.”

“I may have” - hic - “chugged some” - hic - “back in the room.”

“Hyung.”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi whispered. Namjoon, with rising alarm, realised there were tears in his hyung’s eyes.

“I’m not good. Not good for you. Not good enough for…Seokjinnie. I’m no one,” Yoongi sniffed, the tears starting to roll down his reddened cheeks.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit. This isn’t how this was supposed to go. Yoongi wasn’t supposed to cry! Fucking hell, this is bad. This is so very bad.

“You’re not no one,” Namjoon said firmly, placing his hands on either side of Yoongi’s face and forcing him to look directly into his eyes, “You’re my Yoongi hyung. You’re Taehyung’s idol. You’re a part of this family. You are someone and you are someone important.”

Yoongi’s face crumpled. He was sobbing in earnest now, shoulders heaving as he cried into his hands. Namjoon looked around helplessly. This situation had just spun way out of his comfort zone.

“Hey what’re you guys doing out he– is hyung crying? ” Taehyung ran up to them, wrapping both arms around Yoongi’s shaking form.

“I don’t know what to do,” Namjoon said, hand reaching out to comfort Yoongi but not quite making it to its destination. 

He’d never been good at this. He didn’t know how to comfort people, how to make them stop crying. That had always been Taehyung and Seokjin’s department - the soothing, the hugging, the comforting. He was just the awkward noodle that hung around in the back and asked if anyone wanted chips. Or water. Anything that would let him be useful but wouldn’t require him to actually comfort the sobbing person.

“Obviously. Why’re you just standing there? Get some water,” Taehyung hissed. Namjoon ran off, relieved to have something to do. By the time he returned, Yoongi’s cries had softened, and he was relaxing into Taehyung’s hold.

“Here,” Namjoon held the glass out. Taehyung took it from him, offering it to Yoongi, “Come on. Drink some. You’ll feel better.”

Yoongi let out a wet chuckle, “Yeah. Sure. That’ll do it.”

Taehyung widened his eyes at Namjoon, as if to ask, “The fuck does that mean?”

Namjoon shrugged in response. He knew what it meant, but Taehyung wasn’t the one he could explain it to.

“You need to sleep this off. Let’s get you to bed hyungie, come on,” Taehyung lifted Yoongi out of the wicker chair, half-dragging him back to his room while Namjoon hovered nervously behind them.

When they made it up to the bedroom, Taehyung pushed the door open to reveal Seokjin sitting in bed, reading glasses perched on his nose and a book in his hand.

“Yah what happened to knock– wait. What happened to Yoongi? ”

Seokjin jumped out of his blanketed cocoon, pulling Yoongi’s slumped form onto himself and carrying him over to the bed. He lay the half-asleep man down gently, checking his forehead for a temperature before pulling his slippers off and tucking him in.

He gestured at Namjoon and Taehyung to leave. As they padded out of the room, Namjoon caught Seokjin pressing a soft kiss to Yoongi’s hairline before he followed them out the door. 

“What happened?” Seokjin sounded angry. It made the younger brother in Namjoon shiver slightly. Angry Seokjin was never good.

“I don’t know,” Taehyung said, “I found him like that on the porch with Joon hyung.”

“Namjoon?” Seokjin whirled around, pinning Namjoon with a glower, “What did you say to him?”

“Nothing!” Namjoon squawked, “We were drinking and then he just started crying!”

“Just like that?” Seokjin’s bewildered face made guilt wash over Namjoon. Still, he didn’t want to expose something that sober Yoongi definitely wouldn’t want Seokjin to know - the fake dating confession and then, most importantly, how much the fake dating bothered Yoongi. How he was clearly longing for something that he thought Seokjin didn’t want just as much as he did.

Although Namjoon knew better. How could he not? He had seen his older brother wither away when Yoongi had gotten into a serious relationship, the first and only such relationship he’d had in all the years Yoongi and Seokjin had been best friends.

Best friends, my ass. They’re such fucking idiots, it’s actually ridiculous.

“Yeah,” Namjoon said, “I really don’t know what set him off.”

Seokjin hummed. “Guess I’ll just ask tomorrow.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him cry like that,” Taehyung’s brows were furrowed, “Is it his parents again? Did they say something to him?”

“I don’t know.” Seokjin rubbed his temple frustratedly, “He’s been weird the last couple days though. They could have.”

Namjoon bit down his yell of “It’s you, you moron! You’re the problem!” and nodded silently.

“Well, I’m gonna go get some sleep. See you tomorrow,” he gritted out, turning around and walking away.

He heard some murmuring from behind him but it was mostly drowned out by the sound of his own thoughts.

Yoongi hyung is in love with Jin hyung. He thinks Jin hyung doesn’t love him back. But hyung is just a massively emotionally-constipated dumbass. Oh and they’re faking their relationship, just like I’d thought.

He paused at his door, staring at the polished wood and hoping if he stared hard enough, the solutions to all his problems would materialise carved into the smooth surface.

You gotta help me out, door. Where the hell do I go from here?

When Hoseok had gone looking for Namjoon, he hadn’t expected to find the man standing in front of his bedroom, muttering at his door.

Maybe he’s clinically insane. That would make getting out of this marriage scheme so much easier. Eomma definitely wouldn’t want me to get engaged to some crazy guy who speaks to inanimate objects.

“Namjoon-ssi?” Hoseok asked hesitantly.

Namjoon didn’t respond. His brows were furrowed as he continued to stare intently at his door, as if he was waiting for it to reply.

Hoseok tried again, a little louder, “Namjoon-ssi? Hello?”

“What do you want? I’m in the middle of something here,” Namjoon groaned out, eyes fixed ahead.

“In the middle of what? Exchanging knock knock jokes?”

Namjoon finally turned around to pin Hoseok with a blank stare, “Was that some kind of pun?”

Hoseok shrugged, “Depends. Did you think it was punny?” He snorted at his own joke, clapping a hand over his mouth and continuing to laugh quietly.

“I need you to never speak to Jin hyung,” Namjoon said seriously. He crossed his arms and faced Hoseok, “I don’t want him to like you and then annoy me about keeping you in our lives.”

Gosh, what a charmer. Would it kill him to dial down the snark sometimes?

“Noted,” Hoseok replied with a roll of his eyes. “I came here to tell you that Jungkook agreed to come to the house for lunch tomorrow. And he promised he’d bring his flirting A-game. So all we need to do is ensure Taehyung gets to interact with him, preferably alone.”

Namjoon narrowed his eyes, “You told him to come here and be our pawn and he agreed? Just like that?”

“He’s bored out of his mind. I think he’d agree to pretty much anything right now.”

“Or he’s got an ulterior motive.”

Hoseok sighed, “Seriously? This again?”

“What? It’s probably the case. I mean, why would Jeon Jungkook agree to do something so scandalous unless he wanted something out of it? You know, like a date with the person who asked him.”

“Okay,” Hoseok pinched the bridge of his nose, “Hypothetically, say he’s doing this to get a date with me. What’s the problem?”

Namjoon blinked. “What?”

“What’s the problem with him wanting to go out with me? I mean, if he does a good job tomorrow and helps us succeed in exposing your brother’s fake relationship, that means we’re free, right? We can date whoever we want. So what’s the big deal?”

“Um.” Namjoon stuttered, eyes blinking in double time. “Nothing. It’s not a big deal. The deal is tiny. It’s microscopic. The deal doesn’t even exist.”

Hoseok stared as Namjoon’s cheeks turned pink, one beefy arm scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck. It was endearing, like the time he’d found Namjoon on the beach cooing at a crab and the time he’d danced his way across a parking lot and the time he’d gathered a little crowd of marine friends at the touch tank. 

He’s cute when he’s not being a dick. 

“Okay then,” Hoseok said, pushing down the sudden feeling of endearment, “You’re welcome.”

The creaky sound of a door opening startled both of them out of whatever… moment they’d been having. A sudden panic descended upon Hoseok - what if someone saw them together so late at night and started asking questions? What if they got wind of what the two of them were up to? He’d seen Namjoon’s terrible attempts at being covert about the mission during game night, he was sure the guy would crumble faster than a shoddy cheesecake under questioning. 

Before he could register what he was doing, he placed a firm hand on Namjoon’s (firmer) chest and pushed him backwards.

“Wha–”

“Shut up,” Hoseok hissed.

When Namjoon’s back collided with his door, Hoseok reached around for the handle, jiggling it to no avail.

“What the fuck is wrong with your door?”

“The lock’s old, it takes a couple tries,” Namjoon protested, his voice coming out slightly choked. The feeling of Namjoon’s breath on his forehead made Hoseok realise exactly how close the two of them were pushed together. Namjoon’s hand was on Hoseok’s back, having landed there in an effort to keep himself steady as Hoseok tried to push them into his room. Hoseok’s cheek was plastered to Namjoon’s chest and when he turned his face slightly, he could hear the persistent hammering of Namjoon’s heart.

God, he smells good. I’ve always liked guys who smell good.

Hoseok jiggled the handle harder, trying to ignore the warmth of Namjoon’s hand on his back, palpable through his thin t-shirt. The lock finally gave way and the two of them stumbled into the bedroom as the door swung open, Namjoon’s arm curling around Hoseok’s waist on instinct.

“Thank god,” Hoseok breathed.

“What the fuck was that for?”

Hoseok unstuck his cheek from Namjoon’s shirt to look up at him (the height difference was a little bit hot, he wasn’t going to lie) and said, “I heard a door open.”

“So you opened another one? That’s not how the saying goes, Hoseok-ssi.”

Hoseok huffed, “No, smartass. I thought someone would–”

A voice chimed from the doorway, “Well well well. What do we have here?”

“–see us,” Hoseok finished.

Seokjin had an amused smile on his face as he surveyed the scene before him, “In a bit of a hurry, are we?”

Embarrassment burned in Hoseok’s cheeks as he shoved Namjoon away, dusting his hands off on his sweatpants as if that would absolve him of the last five minutes. He cleared his throat awkwardly, pretending to not have heard the soft “oof” Namjoon let out as he bumped into his bed and gave Seokjin a (hopefully) charming smile.

“Heyyy hyung. What’s up?”

Seokjin leaned against the doorframe, eyes twinkling, “Hello Hoseok.” He nodded in Namjoon’s direction, “Little brother. What’re you guys up to on this fine night?”

“Nothing,” Hoseok said quickly, his voice coming out squeaky. He coughed, forcing the pitch down, “Just…um. Hanging out.”

“Hanging on would be a more accurate description, if you ask me. That was quite the grip you had on our Joonie.”

“I tripped,” Hoseok lied.

Seokjin chuckled, pushing himself off the doorframe. He gave them a last wicked look before turning around to leave. “Next time you guys hang out, ” he called out, looking over his shoulder, “Tell me it was Namjoon who tripped. Much more believable.”

“Just get out of my room, hyung!” Namjoon squawked, stomping over to shut the door behind a chortling Seokjin. He pressed his back to the door and cheeks pink as he looked back at Hoseok.

“Um.”

“That was good,” Hoseok shot Namjoon a thumbs up, “We uh…we got him!”

“We did?”

“Yeah!” Hoseok laughed, a little maniacally, “He totally thinks we were about to…uh. Do the devil’s tango…or something.”

That made Namjoon snort so loudly he had to clap a hand over his mouth. “Devil’s tango?”

Hoseok crossed his arms, “What? It’s an expression! People use it!”

“Who are these people? Middle schoolers?”

“Well what do you want me to say? You brother thought we were about to boink?”

“ Boink?” Namjoon wheezed, “That’s even worse!”

Indignance washed away all of Hoseok’s remaining embarrassment at having been caught in a compromising position by Namjoon’s brother.

Hold on. We weren’t even doing anything! Why am I so embarrassed?

“The point is your brother thought we were about to fuck each other into oblivion so our cover is intact. Happy?”

Namjoon smirked. “Well since we’re not,” he held up finger quotes, “‘ fucking each other into oblivion ’ what is there to be happy about?”

Heat surged into Hoseok’s cheeks. Faced with an eyeful of smug Kim Namjoon, with his infuriating glasses and his infuriating smirk and his infuriatingly bulging arms, Hoseok felt an inexplicable urge to rush forward and actually press his lips to Namjoon’s, just to catch the cocky bastard off-guard and leave him stuttering.

Namjoon’s smirk widened, his thick-rimmed glasses doing nothing to hide the glint in his eyes. Hoseok felt a switch flip inside him. He wasn’t about to let Kim Namjoon get the best of him so soon, not when he’d been all pink-cheeked and flustered just a few minutes ago.

Two can play this game, baby boy.

“You’re right,” Hoseok purred, stalking forward, revelling in the way Namjoon’s smile faltered, “Would you like me to make you happy, Namjoon-ssi?”

Namjoon made a high-pitched sound, somewhere between a squeak and a scream. He cleared his throat, “No?”

Hoseok pouted, a finger reaching out to hook under Namjoon’s collar, “No?”

“Uh.”

“Are you sure?”

“I–”

A muffled moan sounded from the wall.

The tension shattered like glass. Hoseok and Namjoon both turned to stare in the direction of the sound. A second, more broken moan filtered through the bricks into Namjoon’s room. Hoseok’s horrified gaze met Namjoon’s, a second before they both looked away, cheeks bright red, coughing loudly to cover the dull sound of something banging against the other side of the wall. 

“Whose room is that?” Hoseok whispered.

Namjoon looked positively pained, “Taehyung’s.”

“Oh. Uh. That’s…”

“Traumatic,” Namjoon groaned, hiding his face in his hands, “My baby brother is being defiled.”

Another whine came through the wall. “Right there! Yes! God, Taehyung.” 

Hoseok pursed his lips, “Yeah I don’t think it’s your brother who’s being defiled.”

Namjoon groaned again, long and drawn out. “This is the worst day of my life,” he mumbled miserably into his hands.

“Uh so,” Hoseok backed away from Namjoon’s hunched form, “I’m uh…I’m gonna go now.”

“Sure,” Namjoon muttered, “You didn’t just hear your brother doing the devil’s tango with his not-boyfriend.”

Despite the sheer awkwardness of the situation, Hoseok’s lips quirked up into a smile, “Doing the what?”

Namjoon glared at him. “I’m not going to say the f-word for my baby brother. That’s just…he used to chew on my socks!”

Hoseok snorted, “Guess he found something better to put in his mou–”

“Lalalalalalalala! I can’t hear you! Lalalalalala,” Namjoon sang, fingers stuffed into his ears and eyes squeezed shut.

As he closed the door on a still singing Namjoon, Hoseok giggled to himself. He’d certainly had an interesting night so far. 

Yeah, interesting like the feeling of Namjoon’s hand on your waist–

Nope! No. There was nothing interesting about being pressed up against Kim Namjoon. It didn’t make Hoseok’s heart race or his head spin. It didn’t make him wish he could stay in that embrace for a little longer. And it certainly didn’t make him rethink fighting against the whole arranged marriage scheme just because he liked the way Namjoon smelled up close, how steady his arms felt while wrapped around him. Nope. Nothing of the sort. Nothing at all.

The sun beat down on them, burning into any inch of exposed skin and making it prickle uncomfortably as Namjoon and Hoseok trudged along the narrow lane hunting for the kimchi halmeoni’s house. The road was dusty and scorching, and Namjoon was starting to regret opting for his flimsy sandals over his trusty pair of Nikes. He could practically feel his heels start to crack under the constant assault of dust and heat. 

“Oh shit,” Hoseok stumbled sideways, bumping against Namjoon, the brim of his ridiculously huge sun hat smooshing against Namjoon’s nose.

“That thing should be illegal,” Namjoon grumbled, side eyeing the (offensively) enormous hat. Hoseok pulled it down more firmly on his head, “This hat is the only thing keeping me from turning into Grilled Hoseok with a side of Peeling Skin and I’m grateful to it for its service.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes. When he’d seen Hoseok step out of the house with his giant rainbow hat he’d almost considered bailing on this whole excursion just to save himself from the embarrassment of being seen in public with someone who looked like that. If his mother hadn’t been making threatening gestures at him from behind Hoseok’s shoulder, he probably would’ve made himself scarce and pretended to have overslept until Hoseok got back. 

Although he’s pretty sure his mother would have hunted him down and chased him out of the house to ensure that he would land up in the exact situation he is now - slowly roasting under the Jeju sun while helping a man he did not like look for a woman he did not know.

“I’m pretty sure it was somewhere around here,” Hoseok muttered. He squinted in the bright sunlight, trying to read the nameplates pasted on the doors they passed by.

Namjoon dodged an old man on a bicycle, “Maybe she got wind of you coming to see her and moved to a different country.”

“Ha ha,” Hoseok said flatly.

“Can we go back now?” Namjoon whined, “We’ve been at this for hours .”

Hoseok shot him an unimpressed look, “It’s been twenty minutes since we got out of the car.”

“Ah, the car,” Namjoon sighed longingly, “The amazing, air-conditioned car. I miss it.”

“Oh my god, go back to the car and wait for me there if you’re going to keep being such a pain in my ass.”

“I can’t just leave you out here. I’m not a dick.”

Hoseok scoffed, “Could’ve fooled me.” He gasped and came to a sudden stop, stumbling forward when Namjoon bumped into him from behind, “Found it!”

Namjoon looked at the nameplate glinting in the light: Jeon. The entrance opened into a small front garden, the grass dewy green and neatly trimmed. A low wooden table sat in the centre, a large bowl of anchovies atop it, set out to dry. Patterned bed sheets pinned to a clothesline swayed gently in the summer breeze. A short set of steps led up to the main door, shaded from the harsh afternoon sun by the wide, sloping roof. 

Hoseok bounded up to the door, knocking loudly while Namjoon hung back in the garden, eyes peeled for any signs of serial killer-ism. The frame slid open to reveal an old lady with a large, rounded nose and sharp eyes, squinting suspiciously at them. Recognition flickered across her face as she took in Hoseok’s warm smile, “Hoseok-ah?”

Hoseok’s smile widened considerably, “I thought you’d have forgotten me by now.” He lifted one of the old lady’s hands and squeezed it, “Have you been well, halmeoni?”

The lady ( Minji-ssi , Namjoon recalled) smacked Hoseok across the arm, face twisting into playful annoyance, “You punk! You said you’d be back soon!”

“I’m sorry! I was busy!”

“Of course, of course. That’s what they all say. Who has time for an old lady like me, after all. Easier to just forget all about me, isn’t it?”

“Halmeoniiiii,” Hoseok pouted, “How could I ever forget you? No one has ever been as kind to me as you have.”

Minji-ssi’s face softened, her slightly larger front teeth peeking out as she smiled fondly, “Aish. You always were a sweet talker. And so thin, too. Is there not enough food in Seoul to feed our young men anymore? Why have you all shrivelled up?”

She pushed Hoseok through the door, “Come, come, sit. I’ll make you some proper food. You kids don’t eat nearly enough these days. It’s such a shame.”

“And you.”

Namjoon startled, realising Minji-ssi’s shrewd gaze was now pinned to him. “Yes?”

“Are you Hoseok’s friend?”

“Um.”

Hoseok peeked out through the doorway, smiling mischievously. Namjoon didn’t like the look of it one bit.

“According to my mother, he’s my future husband.” 

What? Why would he say that?

“Oh! Then we must feed him too,” Minji-ssi hobbled down the steps, grabbing a hold of Namjoon’s sleeve and dragging him into the house, “How will you take care of our Hoseok if you’re not fed and strong? Come on now.”

“Wha– I’m not! I don’t! I’m–” Namjoon sputtered as he struggled in vain against Minji-ssi’s iron grip. He glared at Hoseok but the other man was too busy giggling to notice.

He resigned himself to being pulled into a spacious, well-lit room and pushed down to sit cross-legged at the low table in the centre. Hoseok was next, landing beside him with a soft “ow” while Minji-ssi’s firm hands forced him down.

“Stay there!” Minji-ssi called, padding off to the open kitchen lining one side of the long room. She waved off Hoseok’s attempts to offer help, declaring that she didn’t trust anyone but herself in her kitchen. While she zoomed around the kitchen, pulling ingredients off the shelves and setting pots on the stove, Namjoon dug out something cold and hard that was digging into his ass.

“Uh, does Minji-ssi have grandkids?” Namjoon asked, holding up the bright yellow lego block.

He looked around the room. It was tidy and well-kept, save a few odd objects here and there - tell-tale signs of a child having rampaged through the house. A stray football lolled in a corner. Colourful drawings were taped to the walls and a large set of crayons sat on a set of drawers. Next to the crayons stood some kind of glass ornament, the cracks in it clearly visible, as if it had been shattered and then painstakingly glued back together. Craning his neck, Namjoon spied two sets of smaller house slippers at the door, placed next to a regular sized pair. 

“No, she’s actually a professional lego builder herself,” Hoseok commented. 

Namjoon rolled his eyes. “A simple yes would have sufficed.”

“It would’ve,” Hoseok’s eyes twinkled, “But what can I say? I like pissing you off.”

He’s so annoying. 

Namjoon eyed the humongous rainbow hat that was now sitting innocently on the floor.

At least he took that monstrosity off his head. Dear god.

“What have you been doing in Seoul that has kept you away from this old woman for so long, hmm?” Minji-ssi called out.

Hoseok’s smile dimmed, “Nothing interesting, halmeoni. Just work.”

Minji-ssi glanced up from where she was chopping vegetables at record speed, “Is that so?”

She slid the diced vegetables into a steel bowl, “The last time you were here, you thought your work was the most interesting thing in the world.”

Hoseok sighed, “Ah. Yes, well.”

Namjoon studied the way Hoseok fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, his posture stiff and uncomfortable. It was strange, he thought. Based on all the research he’d done about Hoseok online (because knowledge was power and he was a strategic genius, not because he was genuinely curious about this man in any way, obviously), in all his interviews, Hoseok had seemed to radiate nothing but passion for his work. He would go on tangents about fabrics and cuts and sustainable fashion in the middle of an answer about his dating life, before reeling himself back in with an embarrassed laugh and apologising for going off-topic. 

Of course, while he was doing this deep dive into the life and work of Jung Hoseok, he hadn’t paid any sort of attention to the way Hoseok’s face lit up when he was asked about his clothes, or the way his hands fluttered as he spoke, or even the way his cute little dimples bracketed his shy smile as the interviewers hurled a volley of praises at him.

He hadn’t caught himself smiling at Hoseok’s infectious enthusiasm or his tendency to topple over when someone made him laugh. 

He hadn’t.

“The work is fine but,” Hoseok drew his knees to his chest, “Everything else is a bit…much.”

“Is being rich and famous not working out too well for you?” Namjoon remarked.

Softly, too softly, Hoseok replied, “I mean. I didn’t realise it would be so lonely.”

Namjoon’s heart lurched inside his chest. He hadn’t expected that answer.

“Oh,” he breathed. “Uh. Sorry?”

“Don’t be,” Hoseok chuckled humourlessly, “Everything’s bound to have a price, right?”

“Sure. But that doesn’t change the fact that it sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“Your designs are pretty good though.”

Hoseok lifted his gaze from where he’d been frowning at the table, “What?”

Namjoon awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, “That hat is hideous but uh, you seem to have a good eye for fashion otherwise.”

Surprise shone in Hoseok’s eyes. “You looked me up?”

“No! I mean. Maybe a little. Whatever.”

The sensation of having Hoseok’s eyes roving over his face made Namjoon wish he could disappear. Why the hell did he have to bring up Hoseok’s designs? He should’ve just kept his mouth shut. Now he was forced to stare determinedly at the carpet while Hoseok’s gaze burned into him from the side.

Warmth coloured Hoseok’s voice when he said, “Thanks.”

Namjoon gave a short nod. He felt inexplicably grateful when Minji-ssi cut into the awkwardness by asking him, “And what do you do, sorry, what is your name?”

“Kim Namjoon. I’m a curator.”

Clocking the old lady’s puzzled expression, he explained, “I work with museums and galleries to help them decide on what kind of art to display or to hunt down rare pieces that they want.”

“That’s a strange job. Do you like it?”

A bashful smile crept onto Namjoon’s face, “I love it.”

Minji-ssi pointed her ladle at him, “Aha! Another one! You look just like Hoseok when he answered this question the last time. Good for you.”

The shrewd look came back as she appraised him, “I like that you like your job. But does it pay well?”

“Halmeoni!” Hoseok admonished.

“What? If he is going to be your husband, he should be able to support you at the very least!”

Namjoon considered dispelling the old woman’s misconception - “We’re not going to get married, Minji-ssi. In fact, we’re doing everything we can to ensure we don’t have to get married.” - but the words dried up on his tongue. He felt a strange need to win this woman’s approval, even though he would rather chew his own foot off than stand next to Hoseok in front of a priest.

“I can support myself, halmeoni. I don’t need his money,” Hoseok argued.

Minji-ssi tutted, “It’s the principle of the matter, dear. You don’t want to spend the rest of your life chained to an aimless bum."

“No offence,” she glanced at Namjoon, “Or, well. Maybe I do mean some offence. Depends on what your answer to my question is.”

Namjoon cleared his throat. “I, um. I’m comfortable.”

“Do you take money from your parents?”

“What? No! Why would I do that?”

“Do you own your own house?”

“I have an apartment in Gangnam.”

“Can you cook?”

“Erm. No.”

“Hmm. Well I suppose you could always learn.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. My hyung tried to teach me once. I nearly burned his house down.”

Minji-ssi frowned, “You have a hyung? He can cook? Is he good-looking?”

“I suppose so?”

She turned to Hoseok, “Why aren’t you marrying that one then?

Hoseok laughed, “I wish. But he’s already practically married to someone else.”

Namjoon frowned. 

‘I wish?’ What does he mean ‘I wish?” Is he thirsting after my brother? After Seokjin hyung? Why? What does hyung have that I don’t?

Eh?

Now where on earth had that thought come from?

The sound of someone calling his name brought Namjoon back to reality. “Sorry, what?”

Minji-ssi squinted at him through a cloud of steam as she drained a pot of noodles into the sink, “I asked if you were homophobic.”

Namjoon stared at her in bewilderment, trying to discern whether this was a serious question. When her stern expression didn’t waver, he replied, “Wouldn’t that be…pretty ironic?”

“Good point. I’ll accept that. Now, for the most important question. Tell me, Kim Namjoon, what do you like about our Hoseok?”

Hoseok spluttered beside him. Minji-ssi paid him no mind, her dark eyes pinned to Namjoon’s gaping face. He feverishly combed his brain for a convincing answer, trying not to flinch when Minji-ssi raised a challenging eyebrow at him. 

Think, Namjoon. Hypothetically, in a world where you did like Hoseok, a world that is definitely not this one, what would you like about him?

“You’re taking too long,” Minji-ssi remarked.

“I-uh, I like–”

“Chop chop.”

“He’s…”

“Tell me, boy!”

“He’s bright!” Namjoon blurted out.

“Bright?”

“Like the sun. He’s…warm and kind and, I dunno, full of light. He’s just…bright.”

Ah.

Well.

Fuck.

The adrenaline from having been put on the spot by a terrifying old lady started to subside and embarrassment rushed in to take its place. Namjoon wished he could throw himself out the window, melt into the carpet and slip through the floor into another dimension, fall into a spontaneous coma and re-emerge in an alternate timeline where his brain-to-mouth filter did not abandon him during times of crisis - anything that would mean he wouldn’t have to sit here fidgeting under two pairs of eyes - one stunned, another calculating. 

No one spoke as Minji-ssi padded to and from the kitchen, placing a steaming pot of stew and a slew of side dishes on the table. She scooped rice into two bowls and pushed them towards Namjoon and Hoseok. Her hands, swift and sure despite the occasional tremor, deftly ladled stew into another two bowls that she slid into place next to the rice. All this while, Namjoon sat with his back straight as a ramrod, fighting against the persistent itch under his skin that urged him to glance to the side.

I can never look him in the eye again.

“Eat up,” Minji-ssi instructed. She lifted a juicy piece of meat from the pot of stew with her chopstick and carefully placed it on Hoseok’s bowl of rice. Then, with a soft smile in Namjoon’s direction, she did the same for him.

Relief flooded through Namjoon. “Thank you for the food,” he murmured. Next to him, Hoseok repeated the statement. Awkwardness hung heavy between them, but Namjoon forced himself to ignore it in favour of slurping down the rich, spicy stew. Halfway through the meal, when Minji-ssi ignored their protests and hobbled away to the kitchen for more rice, Hoseok finally spoke up.

“Did you mean what you said?”

Namjoon waited for the ceiling to break open so an alien spaceship could beam him up and take him away. When it didn’t happen (damn you, aliens), he shrugged and said, “Just playing the part.”

“Oh. Of course. Okay.”

Was that disappointment he heard in Hoseok’s voice? No. Surely he was imagining things. Right?

Giving in to the screaming inside his head, Namjoon eyed Hoseok through the corner of his eye. His eyebrows were furrowed as he stared at the dregs in his bowl, lips pursed into an unhappy pout.

No way. Was he really that disappointed?

“Hoseok-ssi–”

“Halmeoni! We’re home!”

Namjoon’s head snapped to the door. Two young boys tumbled inside, red-cheeked and sweaty. They paused at the sight of the two strangers seated at the table. The taller one pointed an accusatory finger at Hoseok, “Hey! You’re the man from the beach!”

Hoseok chuckled, “I hope you haven’t been throwing shovels at anyone else.”

The boy pouted, “That was an accident. I already apologised!”

Minji-ssi called out from the kitchen, “Don’t argue with the guests, you punks. Go wash up and come to eat. Where is your uncle?”

“Here,” a new voice answered. Namjoon gaped as a man who looked incredibly like Korea’s most famous idol stepped through the entrance, shaking his long dark hair out of his eyes. His silver piercings glinted in the light that slanted through the windows, one arm holding a bag of groceries while another heavily-tattooed arm clutched two battered badminton rackets.

“Oh,” said the man who looked a little too much like Jeon Jungkook but couldn’t possibly be the real Jeon Jungkook, “This is certainly unexpected.”

“Jungkook-ah?”

Namjoon whipped his head back to look at Hoseok, who looked just as surprised as Namjoon but (as Namjoon was slowly starting to realise) probably not for the same reasons.

Jungkook (who was maybe, possibly, with 85% certainty, the real Jeon Jungkook) raised a quizzical brow, “Did my grandmother kidnap you off the street so she could feed you? She’s been known to do that.”

“No she– wait, your grandmother? Minji halmeoni is your grandmother?”

A cheeky grin broke out on the guy who was 93% the real Jeon Jungkook’s face, “Last I checked.” He turned his grin towards Namjoon, “And you must be the sexy Disney princess.”

Namjoon blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Ignore him,” Hoseok cut in hurriedly. He shot a pointed glare at the man who was 99% the real Jeon Jungkook. Entirely unbothered by Hoseok’s glare, Jungkook chuckled and sent the two little boys off to wash up before plopping down opposite Namjoon and extending his hand.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Kim Namjoon-ssi.”

Namjoon shook the man who was 99.9% the real Jeon Jungkook’s hand, “Finally?

Jungkook hummed but didn’t offer an explanation. His doe eyes sparkled mischievously. The bunny grin that Namjoon had seen countless times thanks to Taehyung forcing him to sit down and watch ‘ Jeon Jungkook being a cutie patootie ’ compilations for two hours straight was out in its full glory, the force of it even stronger in real life.

Holy shit. It was him. The real Jeon Jungkook. 100%.

“So,” the real Jungkook started, tone as nonchalant as if he was discussing the weather, “I heard you want me to sleep with your brother.”

Namjoon burst out coughing. Hoseok let his head drop to the table. In the kitchen, a spoon clattered to the ground.

Jungkook surveyed them one by one, lips pursed as if to keep from laughing.

Damn,” he tutted, “Tough crowd.”