Chapter Text
Working security at a retail giant isn’t actually as hard as people make it out to be. In fact, the majority of Yoongi’s day is spent walking the aisles in plainclothes to avoid raising any suspicion. In comfortable jeans and a hoodie, he normally logs a few miles, breaks for lunch, and then heads back out on the floor. People steal stuff from Target all the time – makeup, candy, little things – but as long as they don’t go overboard, Yoongi usually doesn’t even say anything. Shit happens.
Today though, he has a meeting with some of the big bosses, discussing the store’s (somehow) outstanding loss ratio. He’s got exactly one flagrantly red polo in his closet for just such occasions, the little bullseye logo emblazoned on the left-side chest. The khakis he bought two years ago when he was hired are still stiff and starchy; he feels like a baby giraffe toddling about in them to avoid creases. He also feels like a total doofus.
“Lookin’ good!” Hoseok yells as soon as Yoongi walks in through the giant bank of glass doors at the front of the store. It’s Yoongi’s bad luck that Hoseok’s line at the returns counter is totally empty, giving the younger the perfect chance to tease him. “Did your mommy iron your shirt this morning?”
Yoongi smiles placidly at a passing customer. “Fuck off,” he singsongs, grin never faltering. Hoseok has the audacity to look offended and it pleases Yoongi greatly. “Don’t forget to check the bottom of the carts,” he reminds Hoseok sarcastically, just to be a jerk.
Seokjin, in a pressed hunter-green apron that would make any mother proud, waves a hearty hello over the throng of middle-aged shoppers lined up for their daily dose of caffeine. Yoongi tips his invisible cap and strolls down the main aisle between women’s clothing and the accessories section. Jungkook’s unruly mop of dark hair bobs up and down in the shoe aisles, humming under his breath, deceptively innocent.
He hooks a right and is just passing the first aisle of toys when he hears a commotion coming from the electronics section.
“Sir, please! Just put them back and there won’t be a problem!”
It’s Electronics Kid, voice hushed but urgent. Yoongi’s never heard him use this tone before – he’s always so pleasant, bending to teach elderly ladies how to use their ipods or showing little kids the newest handheld games. Right now he sounds upset and it doesn’t sit well with Yoongi for some reason. He speeds up his steps, neck craning to find the right aisle.
“Fuck off, dweeb! I didn’t take shit!” Another voice, angrier and significantly louder, bursts through the early morning hush of the mostly-empty store.
“Sir, I saw you put the headphones in your pocket, just- c’mon man, don’t be like this.” Electronics Kid is actually named Jimin, but they’ve never spoken – Yoongi’s seen his name badge on a few occasions – so it doesn’t seem right to call him by name. He’s one of those eternally happy guys who grates Yoongi’s nerves in exactly the wrong way at eight in the morning when he comes in for the day, but who’s also impossible to actually dislike.
There’s a bang that sounds a lot like a hand slamming on a counter or display case. “You didn’t see shit, you hear me?! I’ll kick your ass right here, don’t think I won’t!”
Yoongi breaks into something close to a run, finally catching sight of Jimin’s shiny dark hair and blazing red shirt in the accessories section. The punk standing across from him is closing in on Jimin quickly, backing him into a rack of cell phone cases with a fist raised threateningly. Jimin’s eyes are wide with shock, fingers scrabbling against the shelf behind him.
“Hey!” Yoongi shouts, grabbing a speaker bar that’s set out for display and drawing it back with clear intentions. “Step the fuck back and drop the merchandise, asshole!”
Two heads swivel to face him instantly – Jimin looks so relieved he could cry and the shoplifter goes from pissed off to legitimately scared in a second flat.
Yoongi steps closer, voice dropping low. “I said, drop the headphones, and get the fuck outta my store.”
In a flurry of muttered apologies, a plastic pack of headphones drops to the tiled floor and the kid bolts. Slowly, like he’s scared Yoongi might turn on him now that the object of his ire has fled, Jimin bends and picks up the package. His hands are still visibly shaking and his face looks pale and drawn, especially when he normally practically glows, skin managing to look sun-kissed even under the harsh artificial lights.
“Th-thanks,” Jimin stutters. His eyes are starting to look glossy and holy shit, he’s actually going to cry.
Yoongi reaches up a hand to pat him on the shoulder but thinks better of it. “Woah, hey,” he says softly, like he’s speaking to an injured animal. “Hey, you’re good dude, don’t be upset.”
Jimin dashes the impending tears away with the back of his hand and a self-conscious laugh. “God, sorry, that was dramatic. I thought he’d just hand them over if I called him out.” His eyes are still glittery but his breathing has evened out and his isn't clutching an iPhone 7 case like a lifeline anymore, so that's progress.
“You’re supposed to call on the walkie for stuff like that, dipshit.” Yoongi says teasingly. “That’s literally what I get paid for.”
Jimin looks so embarrassed that Yoongi almost feels bad for teasing him. Still, it really is his job to go after guys like that; he’s got the necessary training in case someone gets physical. “I know! I got all caught up in the adrenaline of seeing someone pocket something though! You know the feeling, like damn, I gotta catch this guy red-handed!”
“Well, at least your enthusiasm hasn’t gone anywh-“ Yoongi doesn’t get to finish his sentence before a deep voice cuts him off.
“Mr. Min? We need to see you in the office.”
-
“Duuuude,” Taehyung whines empathetically. “A week of desk duty? That’s a raw fucking deal.”
Yoongi takes another bite of the pre-made salad Seokjin had insisted he eat as part of the older’s effort to make sure they all get at least one serving of vegetables a day to go with their consistent diet of freezer-section entrees. “Fuckin’ sucks,” he says through lettuce and spinach. “Guy deserved it though.”
Hoseok slides onto the bench beside him. “Rumor has it you’re officially Park Jimin’s knight in shining armor and you two are totally gonna make out behind the bike display after work.”
If looks could kill, Yoongi is sure Hoseok would be a melted puddle of viscera by now. “Dunno who you’ve been talking to, but you’re crazy,” he says matter-of-factly. Jimin doesn’t even know his name, and besides he’s Electronics Guy, too happy at eight in the morning, too willing to teach middle-aged men how to use digital cameras, too excited to catch the bad guy.
With a meaningful glance at the door, Hoseok begins counting down on his fingers, mouthing the words silently. Three, two, one.
The door swings open and a significantly less flustered Jimin enters holding two tall cups from the in-store Starbucks. In Seokjin’s irritatingly perfect handwriting, one is labeled Jimminie~ and the other says Min Yoongi with a tiny heart beside it. Gross.
“A thank you for rescuing me earlier.” Jimin smiles so wide his eyes disappear and places the cup in front of Yoongi. “I heard you got stuck at the monitor desk all week and I feel super bad about it! Seokjin-hyung told me this was your favorite.”
Hoseok and Taehyung exchange pointed looks, gazes going from each other then between Jimin and Yoongi several times before Hoseok hums something annoyingly knowing and Taehyung lets out a low whistle. “That’s lunch for us then,” Taehyung says, sweeping his orange hair back off his forehead. “I gotta go, uhm, find Namjoon-hyung so! Bye!”
They leave as dramatically as possible, Hoseok even cooing a saccharine ’you two have fun now’ before closing the breakroom door behind him.
Mortified, Yoongi looks to Jimin, who is happily munching away at a packed lunch that appeared out of nowhere. Jimin feels him staring and glances up, a becoming blush spreading on his cheeks as he smiles again, smaller and painfully more intimate now that it’s just the two of them. He doesn't take up much space sitting across the table but his presence fills the whole room.
Yoongi takes a sip of the coffee Jimin bought for him. It’s perfect, down to the extra shot of espresso. “Thanks,” he grumbles aloud. Goddammit, he grumbles internally.