Work Text:
Seokjin clicks his pen shut and lays it down on his notepad.
Yoongi peeps a few tight scribbles from this angle, though he can’t make out any clear words from them. He waits for the verdict. It’s not the end of the world if he doesn’t get this job, he reminds himself. But the hours are good, mostly night, and they come at a decent enough rate.
Yoongi has done his research on the guy—brand new to the scene, with a few successful petty crimes under his belt and even more unsuccessful ones. No one has really heard of him outside of the online villain forums Taehyung frequents. His evil doings get him two or three lines in the local paper at best, and he hasn’t been getting proper credit for them anyway, with how inconsistent he’s been with his villain identity. Yoongi doesn’t think the poor guy even has a name.
He doesn’t know why Seokjin is looking for a henchman this early in his career, but he’s not complaining. Being the henchman of an amateur villain nobody knows means lots of free hours waiting around to do shit. And that means paid songwriting time. If he gets the job, that is.
“You’re cute.”
Yoongi blinks at him. “I’m sorry?”
Seokjin gestures sorrily at Yoongi’s face. “No offense, Yoongi-ssi. I’m sure you’re an evil person. But no one’s going to take you seriously as the bad guy. Not with a face like that.”
When Taehyung had forwarded the job listing to him two days ago, Yoongi had called the number listed with a faint hunch that this was too good to be true. And when Seokjin had sat across from him in this coffeeshop fifteen minutes ago, in his big, dark, aviators, and asked him in a whisper if anyone had seen Yoongi come in, he had wondered if maybe this hunch of his might be right.
“I,” Yoongi says, and then stops, unsure of how to respond. He is offended, is the thing. Yoongi cannot believe he’s getting this shit from an idol-faced pretty boy.
He nods at the resume laid out on the table between them. “My referees would be happy to assure you of my scariness.”
Seokjin smirks. “Ah, your referees,” he says. “You know, I almost didn’t recognise you with that voice. And V sunbaenim too. He has a future in voice acting if he ever gets bored of being a supervillain.”
Yoongi flushes. “Seokjin-ssi, I don’t know what you’re implying, but–”
Seokjin rushes to assure him. “Yoongi-ssi, no, I was very impressed! The lying is why I asked to meet you. You seemed like a natural. I’m surprised V sunbaenim hasn’t hired you himself.”
“He doesn’t work with friends,” Yoongi mumbles.
As Yoongi twiddles his thumbs and Seokjin curiously watches him, he wonders—for the first time, and with no small amount of concern—if he isn’t suited for villainy.
Surely Taehyung would have said something to him if that were the case. No, he wouldn’t have sent him on this interview just to make him look like a fool.
But Taehyung is also always calling him cute. Yoongi doesn’t know what to think anymore.
He tries again. “I made my neighbour cry last month.”
Seokjin looks sceptical. “Did you really?”
Yoongi sighs. It was one of those ‘wrong place wrong time’ situations. He’d walked into the lift, feeling confident in his new cologne, and had been met with a recently broken-up neighbour whose ex had shared Yoongi’s olfactory preferences. “It’s complicated.”
Seokjin pouts. “It’s just,” he explains, planting his elbows on the table and leaning in close, “I don’t how much you know about me. But I’ve been doing this job for months now, and I haven’t really been… gaining traction, you know?”
Yoongi does know. He’s terrible at this job. “I’m sure you’re doing your best.”
Seokjin boops his nose. “See? Too cute,” he tells him sombrely.
As Yoongi contemplates walking out now and saving himself some dignity, Seokjin continues. “I know I said henchman in the listing, but I’m actually looking for someone more,” he looks around, then leans even further in. “Evil sidekick-y,” he whispers. He’s so close to Yoongi now, he can smell the iced americano he ordered on his breath. “Someone like Boom!, Hyah!, Grrrr! you know? Someone who can make people scream.”
This, Yoongi doesn’t know. And maybe that’s why Seokjin doesn’t think he’s sidekick material.
“I’m sorry, Yoongi-ssi. Maybe once I get famously evil, I can take you on for a more administrative role?”
Boom!, Hyah!, Grrrr!, keeps playing in Yoongi’s head, in Seokjin’s surprisingly explosive voice. And so do the screams from Yoongi’s last run at the club.
“Um,” he says, before he can talk himself out of it, “I’m a rapper?”
Seokjin stares at him. “What?”
“Yeah, I–” Yoongi clears his throat, “I also go by Gloss? I know I didn’t mention it,” he points to the resume, “but if you’re looking for something a little more, uh, boom, and all of the other stuff you said,” Yoongi cringes. He stares down at the table. Seokjin has been nice, in his own back-handed way, about Yoongi’s lacking qualifications for the role. And even if he had been impressed with all of the lying, Yoongi still feels something like guilt.
He’d walked in expecting Seokjin to be someone he could easily fool. And while there is something a little foolish about him, Yoongi finds it charming.
If Taehyung was here, he might wonder out loud if Yoongi didn’t maybe want to prove himself to the idol-faced pretty boy.
It’s a good thing Taehyung isn’t here because that would be an absurd and very unprofessional reading of the situation. This was a job interview, for fuck’s sake.
“And does Taehyu– V sunbaenim know? That you’re Gloss?” Seokjin asks, his voice sounding a bit funny.
When Yoongi looks up, frowning at the odd question, Seokjin’s aviators are back on. “Of course. He comes to my shows all the time.” Taehyung is always asking for copies of his mixtape to pass around to his friends. “Are you feeling okay? You look a bit warm.”
Seokjin’s jaw ticks. “I see,” he says, ignoring Yoongi’s concern, then stands quickly enough to shock Yoongi back into his seat.
“Yoongi-ssi,” he says with a slight bow, prompting Yoongi to jump up and follow suit.
“Seokjin-ssi.”
“I have to be somewhere else now, but I’ll take what you said into consideration, and get back to you. About the Gloss thing. And the sidekick thing.”
Yoongi nods. “Of course.”
Seokjin adjusts his aviators. “It might take me a while to find your music since I’ve never heard of you before in my life. And I don’t even really know if I’ve listened to hip-hop. We didn’t have MTV or even much music growing up, but–”
“Taehyung has my mixtape, I’ll ask him to pass it to you,” Yoongi promises.
“Oh, I’m sure he does,” Seokjin says, nodding fiercely. “I’m sure he does.”
“Well, I’ll see you around then.” Seokjin reaches his hand out for a handshake, then changes his mind and jerks it into a sudden wave, leaving Yoongi’s own hand awkwardly hanging in space. “Bye,” he shoots, before leaving briskly the way he’d come in.
Yoongi drops back into his chair. He slides his resume into his bag and then pulls his phone out to make a call.
“Hey, hyung.”
“Namjoon. Would you call yourself Taehyung’s friend?”
Namjoon laughs. “Why, what did he do now.”
Yoongi knew that rule was bullshit. I don’t work with friends, his ass.
“Namjoon.”
“Still here.”
“Can you teach me how to be an evil sidekick?”