Chapter Text
Yoongi didn’t know what to expect when Namjoon had mysteriously passed him a scrap of paper with an address hastily scrawled on it and a whispered you’ll thank me later. He had entertained himself with the idea that it would lead him to the HQ of some gang that Namjoon had somehow gotten himself involved with and had managed to wrangle Yoongi a position through which he could earn millions of illegal dollars and retire at the young age of 23. He knew he kept that guy around for a reason. But then he made the mistake of glancing over at where Namjoon was sitting, in the midst of shoving a tuna sandwich down his throat, sauce dribbling down his chin and Girl’s Generation shirt on full display, and the mansion he had been steadily building in his mind comes crashing down. Namjoon would sooner join a flamingo appreciation club than be part of a gang.
Still, Yoongi’s curiosity gets the better of him and is how he comes to find himself standing in front of a relatively large building with a billboard out front reading “Park’s Matchmaking Services” in pink cursive letters, complete with an assortment of rainbow-coloured hearts and what looks to be a bucket load of sparkles to top it all off.
He’s still squinting (all those fucking sparkles were practically blinding him) at the sign and wondering just how fucked up his life is when he pulls out his phone and dials Namjoon’s number.
“Yoongi?”
“What. The. Fuck.”
“Okay it’s really not as bad as it looks, I swear.”
Namjoon, bless the man’s high IQ, had quickly deduced what was going on and responded accordingly.
“I was thinking the same thing when I first went there, but just give it a chance and it’ll end up being the best thing that’s ever happened to you, I promise.”
“Look Namjoon, as much as I appreciate your intentions, I really don’t need a matchmaking service. I am perfectly happy with my single, independent self.”
“So you didn’t just make a profile on one of those online dating sites last week.” Namjoon deadpans.
Yoongi splutters on his end of the line for a good thirty seconds because how the hell had he even found out?
“You should really learn to close your tabs before letting other people use your computer, hyung.”
Oh.
“Well if you apparently already knew that I was well on my way to finding myself a date, then why the hell did you make me come all the way out here? I could actually have been doing something productive.”
“You mean catching up on your beauty sleep? Come on hyung, a computer’s never gonna be able to set you up with the person you’re meant to be with. You need a human touch, which, coincidentally, you can find in the building you’re currently standing in front of. I was skeptical too, at first, but I’ve already gone on three dates and that’s more than I’ve had in the past two years. Just give it a shot, you don’t have anything to lose and, who knows, you just might end up meeting your soulmate in which case I am fully expecting you to send a gift basket.”
“Like hell I’m sending you a gift basket,” Yoongi snorts.
“I want the one with the chocolate-covered nuts.” is the last thing Namjoon says before he hangs up. Dammit, that’s the most expensive basket too.
Yoongi hates to admit it, but Namjoon’s words are getting to him. Maybe this whole matchmaking thing could actually work out.
Then he catches sight of the miniature naked cupids littering the front lawn of the building and blanches.
Namjoon was full of shit.
-
Yoongi enters the building carefully, not sure what one would expect to find in a place that uses naked cupids as lawn ornaments.
Yoongi is surprised to find himself in a spacious lobby decorated with posh furniture that would give Yoongi’s own sleekly decorated apartment a run for its money. He comforts himself with the thought that this business must be doing extremely well for it to be able to afford a lobby of this caliber.
To the left of the main entrance, a receptionist sits typing away at her computer, seemingly unaware of Yoongi’s presence. He decides talking to her is his best course of action.
“Excuse me, can you tell me where I can register?”
The receptionist looks him up and down with an expression Yoongi recognizes as one of judgment. If people weren’t already scared away by the sign out front and the cupids on the lawn, then this receptionist would definitely do the trick.
“Do you have an appointment with Mr. Park?”
“No, I wasn’t aware that an appointment was necessary.”
Yoongi was going to kick Namjoon’s ass when this was over.
“Mr. Park is a very busy man and doesn’t always have the time to entertain walk-ins. But you’re in luck, sir,” she practically spits out the honorific, “his next appointment is still an hour away so I can fit you in now if you don’t have anywhere else to be.”
“That would be great, thanks.” Namjoon’s ass could be kicked another day.
The receptionist presses a button and speaks into the microphone.
“There’s a walk-in here to see you, sir.”
There’s a brief static-filled silence before a tinny voice responds.
“Alright, send them up.”
Yoongi only has a second to think about just how young the voice sounds before the receptionist is directing him towards the elevators and telling him to head up to the seventh floor.
-
When the doors close behind him, Yoongi is surprised to find that the elevator opens directly into this Park guy’s office. He’s mildly impressed although his face doesn’t show it when his gaze lands on Park himself, seemingly in the midst of a phone call.
The first thing he notices is the shock of red hair sitting atop the man’s head. If it were anyone else, Yoongi thinks it might have been a disaster, but Park is pulling it off surprisingly well. He’s good looking, is his second observation and Yoongi finds himself wondering if there’s some sort of policy against matchmakers dating their clients. He allows himself to hope. If the guy who’s supposed to match him with his soulmate is this cute, Yoongi figures the results can’t be too bad.
He sees a shiny nameplate sitting on the desk that reads Park Jimin aka Mr. Cupid. Yoongi can practically feel the life leaving him.
“I’ll see you soon.” Yoongi is brought out of his thoughts at the sound of Jimin putting down the phone, signaling the end of the call.
Looking up, Jimin follows Yoongi’s gaze to the nameplate and immediately flushes. Yoongi takes comfort in the knowledge that at least Jimin knew just how screwed up having something like that on your desk for the whole world to see is.
“Sorry about that,” Jimin coughs nervously, “my mom gave that to me as a gift when I first opened up this business and I didn’t have the heart to tell the poor woman that it would probably be the downfall of the company.”
“Oh, so you’re not Mr. Cupid?” Yoongi asks, amused. “I’m a little disappointed. I’m not sure plain old Park Jimin will be able to get the job done.”
Jimin huffs, mock offended.
“I’ll have you know, sir, that in the two years this business has been active, we have been able to successfully match hundreds of couples without the help of cupid, thank you very much, and, if you’ll have us, we can do the same for you.”
Yoongi snorts. This guy was something else.
“Okay Jimin-ssi, I’ll give you guys a shot, although you are but mere mortals. How does this whole thing work?”
Jimin slides a sheet of paper and a pen towards Yoongi.
“Just fill out this short questionnaire so we can enter your profile into our database and you’ll be on your way.”
Sounds simple enough. Yoongi scans the sheet in front of him and is a little surprised by what he finds. The top half consisted of the typical generic questions one would expect to find on any dating site. Name, age, sexual orientation, what he’s looking for in a significant other, etc etc. It’s the second half of the page that has him wondering for the millionth time how the hell Namjoon convinced him to do this. If you were given the opportunity to travel through time, where would you go and why? Fuck, this sounded a lot like one of those reading comprehension questions he used to get back in middle school. Fuck. If you were part of a popular boy band, what would your position in the band be and why? Now that was just ridiculous. As if Yoongi would ever join a boy band.
“Excuse me, Jimin-ssi, I need to have a very serious talk with whoever came up with these questions. This is why I stick to dating sites. At least computers are sane.”
“Well those computers don’t seem to be very helpful since you’re here.” Yoongi pointedly turns away because he’s not supposed to be the wrong one here, dammit. “I designed these questions to find out a little more about my clients’ personalities so that I can determine the best possible match. Any other comments?” Jimin’s voice is clipped and Yoongi is getting the impression that his sarcasm is rubbing Jimin the wrong way.
“No,” he swallows audibly. “That’ll be all.”
Yoongi cracks his knuckles and sets to work.
Client #903
Name: Min Yoongi
Age: 23
Occupation: Music Producer
Likes: Rap, basketball, Scarlett Johansson
Looking for: an interest in music, sense of humour, swag
Other Notes: seems like a sarcastic asshole but is actually a grumpy marshmallow based on questionnaire responses and the fact that he likes scarlett johansson. but still an asshole.