Persistent buzzing from a too old ceiling fan jabs on Yoongi’s eardrums, making his eyebrow twitch in annoyance that adds on to the irritation that is already residing in him. The reoccurring ‘plop’ of a water drop tells him that there’s a water leak somewhere in the room, and if it’s toilet water, he doesn’t want to be the one to find that out. Beside him, his husband sits with a smile on his face, fingers tapping against the arm of his chair. In front of them, is a marriage counselor, of all fucking things.
“Good afternoon, Mr. and Mr. Min. My name is Jung Heechul, and I’m going to be your marriage counselor for today. How are you two doing?” the counselor grins at them so happily, and there goes quite possibly the last of Yoongi’s good mood.
With a gruff sigh, Yoongi rolls his eyes. This entire thing is unnecessary. What the hell was Jimin even thinking while setting them up for this a few months back? “Listen, our marriage is perfectly fine, we don’t need this bullsh—“
“We’re doing great!” Jimin butts in with an equally bright grin on his face as the counselor, visibly agitated by Yoongi’s careless attitude. “Better than usual, really.”
Before Yoongi can even think about replying in a way that would surely set Jimin off, Heechul’s fucking chipper voice is booming through the office once again. “That’s great! So, shall we get started?” And Jimin nods, so when Heechul looks at Yoongi, he reluctantly agrees as well. “Alright. First question, an easy one for starters: how long have you two been married?”
Ha, okay, Yoongi has this under his belt like a pistol ready to be whipped out. Bang bang motherfucker, this is almost too easy. With a tone full of confidence and ease. “Five years,” he says with the tiniest hint of a smirk.
He looks to the side to Jimin, catching the obviously displeased look on his face. “It’s been six,” Jimin corrects, lacing his fingers together in front of his knee. “Six years.”
“No.. it’s been five. I’m pretty sure I’d remember an extra year with you,” Yoongi furrows his eyebrows in confusion.
Scoffing, Jimin glares ahead of him. “Last year you couldn’t even remember our anniversary. It’s been six years, Yoongi,” then he gives a tight smile to Heechul. “Six years, like I said,” his tone having changed back to sunshine and rainbows.
Backing down from that potential argument, because an angry Jimin is a very hot but not sweet Jimin, Yoongi nods. “Uh, okay, six years. So, this is kind of like a yearly check up for our marriage. It’s like getting new stickers for the car, checking the oil, and rotating the tires, you know?”
“Are you really comparing our marriage to a car inspection?” Jimin turns to him for the first time that day with such an appalled expression. Okay, Yoongi gulps, time to shut my trap.
“Not at all, honey. Love you,” he flashes a forced smile while Heechul looks between them almost nervously.
“Okay… next question,” Heechul blinks a few times, and looks back down at his clipboard. “Would you say that you are both happy in your marriage as of now?”
Teasingly, Yoongi teeters his hand back and forth until he sees Jimin hum and nod from the corner of his vision, then begins to vigorously nod himself as well. “It’s a very happy and joyful marriage, no doubt, very much,” Yoongi assures. Heechul clicks his pen and ticks something off on his board before pursing his lips at the next question.
“How often do you engage in sex?” Heechul asks.
With his thumb on the bottom of his chin and index finger tapping against the corner of his mouth, Yoongi hums in thought. His answer doesn’t have to be immediate, because Jimin speaks for him. “How often…? I - can you repeat the question, please?”
“Sure. How often do you engage—“
Raising his hand slowly, Yoongi sees Heechul pause mid question and nod towards him. “Can this be a on a scale from one to ten question? That would make this a whole lot easier,” he doesn’t bother holding back his first genuine smile of the day, only because his question put a truly priceless look on Heechul’s face. “Because it’s a lot, like, a lot,” wink wink.
Shamelessly nodding, Jimin examines the state of his recently polished nails. “I mean, it’s hard not to jump that when he’s wearing his leather jacket. It has a snake wrapped around a rose on the back, and he looks so delicious in it. So, I don’t really understand why that question has to even be asked.”
Clicking his tongue, Yoongi leans back in his seat with a smirk. “Thanks, sunshine. You know, Heechul, Jimin looks fucking delectable when he wears my jacket with nothing on underneath.”
With a giggle, Jimin looks at Yoongi and bites his lip. “Aw, baby, I’m flattered.”
“I— alright, what about this week? How many times?”
“Including the weekend?” Yoongi asks.
“Yes, weekend included.”
A low whistle rides out past Yoongi’s lips and Jimin’s cheeks puff out as he blows out a elongated breath. “Well, it was over twenty times, at least. Right, baby?” Jimin asks him.
“Yeah, maybe thirty,” he ponders, and chuckles. “It’s just so hard to keep up count these days.”
Grimly, Heechul nods and jots something else down on his sheet, then looks up at them again with another smile. “So, how did you first meet?”
Bouncing up in his seat, Jimin answers again. “It was in America.”
“California,” Yoongi adds. “Five years ago.”
Sourly, Jimin’s ear flicks forward in irritation, to Yoongi’s notice. “Six years ago, sweetheart, remember?”
“Right. Five or six years ago. California, America.”
Going back, Yoongi remembers having been seated at the bar of the hotel he was staying in. Earlier, he’d cleared out his mission of killing the treasured son of a famous chef slash owner of a nearby restaurant, since the kid hadn’t held up his end of the deal he’d made with the group of the man who’d negotiated with his boss to have the kid dead. Some other asshole had been there trying to kill the same guy, but left when they realized that the life was Yoongi’s for the taking. If he wasn’t the one to kill the guy, then his boss would have had his head on a silver platter.
He’d cleaned up fairly well afterwards, and was drinking a whiskey on the rocks when the police came in.
His English was a bit rusty, but he still understood what one of the officers was telling him, asking him to come with them for questioning like the other tourists who’d come alone. Which meant that he’d been able to play off like he didn’t understand, and with perfect timing, his incompetence provided him with a gift from above. A way out of these idiotic policemen’s claws.
The man who had walked through the entrance of the bar looking like some sort of angel with flaming red hair, was also being pestered by police and looked so close to stomping his foot like a petulant child. Just his luck that the man had looked his way, a sudden glint flickering in his eyes that Yoongi took no time to catch on to. That’s when Yoongi held a finger up to the officer in front of him and said. “I’m with him,” then pointed to the man, who said the same thing about him to the officers crowding him.
They’d separated from the officers and met in the middle of the bar, Yoongi making sure that his pistol was tucked safely underneath his black button up before coming up to him. Immediately, the man’s hands latched onto his arms and with a smile so big that his eyes disappeared for a moment. The man murmured. “Shall we go to your room for privacy?”
May it have been by the grace of the gods that he’d been Korean too. Fuck yes.
“I think so,” Yoongi replied with the hint of a smirk.
That was how they landed behind closed doors in Yoongi’s hotel room, laughing as they hid away from the police and pressed their ears against the door to listen to the frustrated bickering of the officers in the hallway. After that, they had both looked each their in the eye, faces still pressed against the door, and began laughing again.
There was a thrill that came with killing someone for the greater good, and managing to get away with it without the slightest crust of blood tucked away underneath his fingernails, but doing something not even all that much devious compared to that with a stranger — a beautiful one, while at it, seemed to hold much more excitement.
“I’m Park Jimin,” the angel said, holding out his hand for a shake, all the while grinning at Yoongi.
For a second, Yoongi considered giving a false name, then decided that there wasn’t any harm in giving out his real one. Jimin didn’t seem capable of having a purpose to use it against him. “I’m Min Yoongi,” he introduced himself, accepting Jimin’s handshake. “Pleased to meet you.”
Not letting go of his hand, even after done shaking it, Jimin nods. “The pleasure is all mine, Yoongi-ssi.”
Later on, after they had left Yoongi’s hotel room because the hotel had finally cleared out of police, they went to a club. On Jimin’s recommendation, mostly, because Yoongi was more of a quaint and simple kind of guy. But he could enjoy a loud and colorful club every once in awhile, especially if he had a stunning being by the name of Park Jimin by his side and two shots of vodka waiting on the table in front of him.
He listened to Jimin’s opinionated rambling, of which was rather endearing because of the way his face grew increasingly red with frustrations. Small puddles of beer had gathered and became one big mess on their table due to Jimin’s consistent slamming of his bottle against the table. It was refreshing seeing someone so worked up over something that most people wouldn’t blink twice over these days.
“Police can be so unfair sometimes. Someone who’s related to importance to society dies, everyone and their eomma gets interrogated – yet, a casual citizen dies, and nobody cares until two days after it’s happened,” Jimin ranted with a pout and downturned eyebrows that Yoongi held himself back from straightening out. “At least I had you to help me out back there. Thank you for that, by the way.”
Waving his hand away, Yoongi shrugs. “I didn’t want my vacation to be spent in a holding cell, and I doubted you wanted that either. Otherwise, I have a lot to thank you for as well. How may I repay you for your generous services?”
Cocking his head to the side and pretending to think about it, Jimin grinned and held onto Yoongi’s wrist. “You could dance with me?”
“Nuh uh, I don’t dance, Jimin-ah,” he rejected kindly, not feeling any better when Jimin’s expression turned sad and his puffy bottom lip prodded outward and his eyes turned glossy. “Fuck, fine, I’ll dance with you,” then Jimin was darting towards the dance floor with a giggle while Yoongi quickly downed his two shots. Once he was up, he was immediately making his way over to an impatiently waiting Jimin. “Do you always use that look to manipulate your targets?”
Having expected them to dance facing each other, it took Yoongi by surprise when Jimin turned around so they were back to chest. Then the red head had reached back and grabbed Yoongi’s wrists to plant his hands on his hips. “Only for the cute ones, sweetheart,” Jimin spared him a side glance accompanied with a wink.
See, Yoongi wasn’t anywhere near being the dancing type. He had to be somewhat flexible for his job, but nothing too extra like he’d seen spies do in those movies where they’d have to crawl and crouch under and over laser beams. Although, grinding was a different story. All he had to do was follow Jimin’s lead - or his hips, actually. God, could he move his hips in a way that would have mesmerized Yoongi if he wasn’t so caught up in the way that, somehow, Jimin looked so breathtaking under shitty LED rainbow lights hung from the ceiling.
Occasionally, he’d rut forward and lick his lips at the hushed gasp it would draw out from Jimin. At some point, Jimin had reached up and clasped his hands behind Yoongi’s neck with a different kind of motive other than dancing on his tongue. He’d began pushing back into Yoongi’s ruts, digging his nails into the nape of his neck and making it hurt.
“So, why are you traveling alone, exactly?” Jimin asked between breaths, teasingly brushing his ass against Yoongi’s crotch before pulling away and acting like it hadn’t happened - for the fifth time.
“Just wanted to get out of Seoul for a little while. Things were going slow back there; stuffier,” not to mention that his sole reason for being in Los Angeles was for the purpose of taking out that chef’s son, because Jimin most definitely didn’t need to know that. “How about you? Got a more boring reason than I do?”
“Hm, well, I just made the final preparations for moving from Busan to Seoul, but wanting to take a trip somewhere far away before settling back down. Nothing too interesting,” replies the red head, who had eventually turned around to face Yoongi again. Their noses had come awfully close, and Yoongi’s hands tightened on Jimin’s hips.
He’d hummed loud enough for Jimin to hear, and the two of them gently swayed to the music that was contrasting greatly from their slow movements. The two of them stayed looking in each other’s eyes, and Yoongi certainly wasn’t going to be the one who refused to look temptation in a straightforward manner. Apparently, Jimin wasn’t going to be that person either.
“Yoongi-ssi,” he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes raking down to Yoongi’s own lips and a finger trailing down to his exposed chest that his shirt couldn’t button up to cover. Slowly, Jimin’s eyes came back up and met Yoongi’s again. “When are we going to cut the chit chat and have you fuck me in that nice hotel bed of yours?”
“Fuck, I thought you’d never ask,” he grunted, gaze turning dark in Jimin’s direction. Instantly, he was dragging Jimin out of the club and hailing a cab to take them back to the hotel.
He was already clambering over Jimin in the backseat of the cab, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans and pressing open mouthed kisses against the red head’s neck. He could feel Jimin’s smaller hand cupping his own bulge and squeezing him through the fabric of his slacks, which caused him to groan quietly and bite down on the junction connecting Jimin’s neck and his jaw.
When the cab had come to a stop outside his hotel, he made sure to give an extra tip for putting the driver through the processions of dry humping Jimin in the back. The two of them exited the cab with messy hair and raw, kiss bitten lips, and were no better inside the elevator. There were two other people occupying the small space, but Jimin didn’t seem to mind.
They’d looked distraught because of the couple who couldn’t take their hands off of each other. Yoongi had his thigh slotted in between Jimin’s legs, and Jimin was fucking himself on it, whimpers and whines breaking out in the crook of Yoongi’s neck. He himself had never considered public sex before, but Jimin was making it very hard for the thought of them getting off in front of people to not be fucking hot as hell.
Yoongi only had to stop Jimin from stuffing his hand down his pants, because he didn’t really want to get a handjob in front of these people. But, then Jimin moaned and tilted his head up so his lips were brushing Yoongi’s ear. “Yoongi, fuck me,” he spoke in English just so the other people would understand. This fucking brat. “Please.”
As soon as the doors opened with a ding, the other two people were out and practically running down the hallway away from them. Yoongi pushed Jimin off of him, then pulled him out of the small space and into his nearby room.
“You wanted those people to know how desperate you are to get fucked, didn’t you?” he growled, having Jimin lean against the wall while he unlocked his door. Jimin only looked at him with a half lidded gaze and a quirk of his lip.
“Mhm, gonna’ do something about it?”
He pushed the door open, let Jimin enter first, then closed it behind them. As soon as it clicked shut, Yoongi had a body pinning him to the door and hands tugging at his shirt, harsh enough to cause all of the buttons to pop off in different directions. While he scowled, Jimin laughed and forced the black shirt down his shoulders.
“I liked that shirt, you know,” lips bit and sucked at his collarbones, casually making their way up until Jimin licked along his jawline.
“Really? I like your chest more,” Jimin hummed, dragging his hands up Yoongi’s torso, thumbs flicking over his nipples them grappling onto his shoulders.
Yoongi inhaled sharply, and decided that he didn’t like being the one not in control. Once more, Jimin was in his hold, under his orders, and let himself be handled onto the bed with a few breathy giggles, like he found all of this as a game.
He had Jimin hold his arms up so he could yank his shirt up and off with ease, took in the soft swell of faint abs and the surrounding softness on his torso, then to his pretty chest that was flooded with rosy tint, all the way to his neck that sported a fully bloomed and colored hickey, from yours truly. Before he had even dared to touch any of the beautiful flower below him, he stood up and toed his shoes off, and Jimin watched with intensity as his fingers worked nimbly on undoing his belt.
“Your hands,” Jimin swallowed thickly, blinking a few times while eyeing his hands. Yoongi looked at him in questioning as he undid his pants and began to slide them down his legs. “They’re fucking hot.”
“That a kink of yours?” Yoongi snickered, stumbling forward after kicking his pants away. He returned back to Jimin, hovering over him as he began to pepper kisses all over his cute belly.
“Maybe I’ll find out once your fingers get inside me, hm?” a wolf in sheep’s clothing would be the most accurate way to describe Park Jimin, going along with how he gave Yoongi such an innocent grin, simultaneously snaking his hand down Yoongi’s boxers and around his cock.
He was so clouded by his arousal, then Jimin had squeezed him just hard enough to have him pliant under the red head’s touch again. It wasn’t until Jimin leaned upwards to kiss him, that he pulled away for a moment and halted the other’s movements. “I don’t even know how old you are. You don’t know how old I am. You could be barely legal and I could be in my thirties.”
Another giggle bubbled out of Jimin, and he sat up properly to place one hand on Yoongi’s cheek (the other still awkwardly stuffed in his boxers) and pressed a kiss to his chin. “I’m twenty-two; is that legal enough for you?”
“A-alright, yeah. I’m twenty-four,” Yoongi nodded.
Somehow, he ended up on his back with Jimin above him taking off his jeans and boxers in one go, then worked on shuffling Yoongi’s boxers down as well. Jimin straddled him and Yoongi noticed his eyes flickering towards the nightstand before beaming down at him. “You keep the lube on the nightstand for everyone to see? That’s classy.”
“W-well, wasn’t expecting any guests,” he mumbled, breath hitching when Jimin grinder their cocks together, working his hips back and forth against him. Yoongi brought his hands down to Jimin’s thighs and gripped them with vigor, smugly biting his lip when Jimin whines under his hold. “Condoms are in the drawer though.”
“Yeah? Wasn’t expecting any guests my ass,” Jimin retorted, probably would have laughed if he wasn’t so caught up in the growing heat between them. He reached out and grabbed the lube and placed it beside Yoongi. “Take good care of me, hyung,” he whispered, silk residing in his voice.
And Yoongi would. He’d take this angel and place him on a golden throne layered with his favorite flowers and favorite scents. He took the lube and poured a good amount over three of his fingers, and dropped the bottle back down beside him and brought his hand around to Jimin’s ass. Quietly, Jimin moaned when Yoongi grabbed at and massaged his ass, because goddamn Yoongi was fucking in love with his ass, and spread him open so one of his fingers could circle his rim.
Yoongi was slow pushing in the first finger. He wanted Jimin to be able to adjust, because he already felt so tight just around one finger. It seemed that his entire body was overly sensitive, with the way he was keening with the push and pull Yoongi was giving him. He could have such a fun time with that later, but for now, he just wanted to get inside of Jimin.
Jimin’s fingers squeezed his biceps when he breached a second finger to his hole and pushed it in alongside the other. He scissored his fingers, opening Jimin up thoroughly, and swallowed the younger’s whimpers and soft ‘ah’s up. He licked at Jimin’s bottom lip while it was parted from the upper, and Jimin moaned when he felt Yoongi’s tongue against his.
“Hyung,” he cried out when Yoongi’s fingers nudged the bundle of nerves inside of him, and flattened his chest on top of Yoongi. His thighs tightened up on Yoongi’s hips, and bucked up into the elder’s hard cock again. “God, definitely a kink. Shit.”
Yoongi kept his two fingers sliding in and out of Jimin at an abrupt pace, quickly and easily tearing the boy apart at the seams and having him writhing in his lap. Each time his fingers hit that velvety spot that had Jimin sobbing eventually, his body would jolt and precum spurted out, gradually covering the head of his cock.
“Adding a third finger, baby,” he murmured and kissed the top of Jimin’s head. A small whine of protest fluttered out of Jimin when his third finger entered, but he took his time easing it in.
“I-I can take it, hyung. I’m ready, please,” Jimin’s words were slurred. The younger absentmindedly started fucking himself back on Yoongi’s fingers when they stopped moving inside of him. “Give it to me.” he demanded, sitting up with his hands on Yoongi’s chest to prop himself up.
“You need to be prepped properly,” he said, smiling at Jimin’s impatience, and incompatibility to think properly with something stuck up his pretty little ass. Just as he had finished talking, Jimin’s body shuddered again as another wave of pleasure came over him. “I wonder if you could come from my fingers alone,” he marvelled, like he was looking at the most beautiful piece of art in a museum. Jimin came pretty close to that.
With a frustrated huff, Jimin yanked open the nightstand drawer and took out one of the condoms, then reached back himself and pulled Yoongi’s fingers out of his ass. “I know what I can take, and what I want,” he pouted while squirting lube over his hand to slicken up Yoongi’s cock.
A sigh escaped past Yoongi’s lips when Jimin’s hand stroked him, and fondled with his balls. His thumb rubbed over his slit, and he canted up into the touch. It sounded like Jimin had laughed at his reaction; him tilting his head back into the pillow and closing his eyes, but he wasn’t sure. “So what do you want, then?” he inquired.
He felt the condom being pulled on with carefulness. “For you to watch. Keep your eyes on me, hyung,” he obeyed Jimin’s wants, and watched as he guided his cock to his hole and increasingly sunk down on it. Jimin’s eyes looked like they wanted to shut, but he kept them on Yoongi.
“Shit,” Yoongi hissed, and pressed moon shaped prints into the flesh of his waist, that was curved inward so prettily on both sides. Jimin looked like a whole meal taking him in so nicely, so tightly around him and body heat resembling a furnace’s.
It took everything not to fuck into Jimin as soon as they’d settled as close as possible together. He was fully sheathed inside the younger, feeling about the way Jimin looked; ready to explode from the tension that was finally unfolding. When Jimin slowly began moving, the sight of his dick going in and out of Jimin’s hole alone had him holding his breath.
Lightly, Jimin swiveled his hips in small circles and sighed. “You - you feel so good. I feel so full, hyung, I — o-oh,” Yoongi had thrusted up into him once, and it seemed like he’d set the boy up in flames. The corners of his mouth turned up into a blissed out smile and he brought his knees up to drop himself back down on Yoongi’s dick.
He admired the view in front of him, Jimin bouncing on top of him, his own cock flushed and dripping with precome, and his cheeks painted pink from exertion. Squeaky cries and whines spilled out because of how Yoongi filled every spot inside of him, it was like they could feel each other everywhere. Yoongi felt hot all over simply because of how amazing Jimin looked just for him, how good he was being just for him.
“Jimin,” he grunted and planted the heels of his feet on the mattress, using the new position to thrust up into Jimin’s tight heat and render him speechless. “Could fuck your perfect little hole every day, shit,” Jimin’s body shot up with every drive of his hips, and his flushed dick smacked against his stomach consistently.
“A-ah, why don’t you, then?” he propositioned, although it went over the both of their heads within the heat of the moment. Almost greedy for his release, Jimin ground his hips down vigorously and sobbed when Yoongi brushed against that spot inside of him again. The pooling in his abdomen started to grow, and he lost the strength to hold himself up properly.
Yoongi held onto Jimin’s ass and kneading the cheeks roughly, continuously hammering into him, into his prostate and drawing out more sobs. He felt his shoulder become wet with tears as he abused Jimin’s hole and kept his lips pressed to the shell of Jimin’s ear. “You’re doing so well, baby. So good,” he assured between groans and gently nipped his ear.
“Yoongi, w-wanna come,” Jimin squeaked, muffled by his shoulder.
Moving one hand up to Jimin’s hair, he tangled his fingers in the red locks and growled when slowing down his thrusts and dragging them deeper and sharper. “I wanted this the moment I saw you w-walk through the entrance of the bar,” he admitted hazedly. The tight feeling of Jimin clenching around him had him choking on air, almost, and he wanted more, so he continued to egg on the younger. “Now I know, how tight you are, how much of a needy slut you can be.”
In a way Yoongi couldn’t explain, Jimin still looked cute with tears in his eyes and running down his reddened cheeks. “When I first saw you, I wondered how you’d feel inside me,” he avowed in return. Soon after, his eyes rolled back and incoherent curses came in whispers laced with need.
“Have I disappointed your fantasies?” he grinned. His left hand went down and he hooked two of his fingers inside Jimin’s hole, giving an extra stretch to adjust to. He watched Jimin’s body pull taut, and his torso freeze in an arch after the head of his dick caught on his rim. When he thrusted up into him again and hit his prostate, a soundless scream drew out from Jimin’s lips.
“I — no, no, definitely not,” Jimin gasped, desperately clawing on Yoongi’s chest for purchase.
This moment was one Yoongi wanted to stay in for as long as possible, but he knew Jimin was closing to coming undone, and that he’d become even whinier if it didn’t happen soon. He was close himself, only holding off because he did want Jimin to come first. So the hand that had latched itself in the younger’s hair, he used to stroke Jimin to completion.
There was no warning for the younger’s release dawning on them, except for the scream that erupted out of him as he rode Yoongi as fast as his hips could go. In a quick succession, white stripes of come shot out between their stomachs, covering the both in the sticky fluid. “Oh my god, Yoongi-hyung,” he cried out when his body began to shake with oversensitivity.
Just a little bit more, and Yoongi would finish. For now, he indulged in the way Jimin didn’t resist him despite the pain having to feel more bad than good at this point. Jimin really was being an angel for him, letting him use his body to fuck into for his release. He pulled Jimin down onto him, circling his hips into him at the same time. In a couple more thrusts, he was spilling into the condom with a loud groan.
They stayed locked together for a while, until Yoongi began to feel gross with the condom still on and Jimin’s come starting to do something akin to solidifying on their stomachs. Because Jimin was feeling rather jelly-like, he used what little energy he had left to pull the boy off of him and lay him down next to him. Once the condom was off and thrown onto the carpet by one of the chairs, he rolled onto his side and faced Jimin.
The younger was almost passed out. His breathing was evening out, but his eyes were still cracked open the slightest bit. He smiled at Yoongi, who smiled back and curled one of Jimin’s strands around his fingers. “Go to sleep. I’ll clean us up in a bit,” he said.
“You’ll be here when I wake up, right?” Jimin asked, yawning straight after.
“Of course I will. Goodnight, Jimin,” he kissed Jimin’s forehead.
“Goodnight, hyung. See you tomorrow.”
The younger was out almost instantly. Cute.
A harsh vibrating woke Yoongi up from his slumber the next day. It was coming from his phone, and luckily hadn’t woken up Jimin. He picked it up, squinting his eyes to see past the blur of morning vision and read the caller ID. Annoyed because the person interrupted his sleep, he angrily pushed the accept call button and got out of bed quietly enough as to not disturb his partner.
“Hoseok-ah, I don’t know what time it is back home, but it’s ass crack o’clock here. What the hell are you waking me up for?” he hissed into the speaker and walked into the kitchen that was connected to the bedroom, but separated by a wall.
“Friendly as ever, my dear hyung,” Hoseok greeted him, taking no longer than that to get to his point afterwards.
“Okay, so, I know exactly what time it is in L.A. I also know that if your ass isn’t out of there within the next seven hours, then the friends of Chef Boyardee’s son are going to figure out just who killed him. The gang who requested his death are the only ones they ever affiliated with, and if they realize that they came to us for what they wanted, you’re first on the list.”
“Um, why can’t I just kill them too?” he scowled, bitter about having to leave earlier than intended.
A snort sounded from the other end of the line. “I get that you like to play the mercenary game, but you’re not one. You get rid of who the boss wants you to get rid of, and that’s that. Come back home, hyung.”
It seemed that if he ever wanted to enjoy America, it’d have to be in his own time. “Fuck this.. I will, after I take care of some business.”
“Oh?” That certainly perked the interests of Hoseok. “When I sent those condoms with you, I wasn’t expecting you to use them. But good on you! Were they hot?”
Thinking about Jimin the entirety of last night, Yoongi would say. “The prettiest human I’ve ever laid eyes on. He’s just moved to Seoul, too.”
“Then there won’t be a problem with saying a ‘see you later’, and catching a flight later this evening? Without the little details in between.”
Sighing, with the bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers, Yoongi shook his head even though no one could see. “I’ll get a ticket for the quickest flight out.”
“Good. See you soon.”
Then the call was finished, and his line was beeping. He hung up too, and resisted the urge to throw his phone. Anyone would be able to track him back home just as easy as they would here, but maybe if they were the kind of people only in it for money, they’d realize that they wouldn’t get a thing from anybody on the opposing side of the deal anymore, and leech on to something else. Greed never died for anything, not even for blood. But, as long as it wasn’t Yoongi’s blood being shed, or his “family”’s, he didn’t really care who was dying.
Now, he just had to break the news to Jimin.
When he went back to the bedroom part of his suite, he saw that Jimin had awoken. He also saw the pout on his features, and the sad looking eyes. But when Jimin heard him come in, and looked up at him, his smile was back, and he beckoned for Yoongi to come closer.
“Had you thought I left? After I said that I’d be here in the morning?” Yoongi teased, crawling back into bed and holding onto Jimin’s hand. Their fingers laced together, and Yoongi brought them up to his mouth to kiss the younger’s knuckles.
“Your stuff was still here, so I knew you hadn’t. I was just a little disappointed waking up in bed alone,” he said in a shy manner, opposite from his confident one from last night. “Why did you leave the bed, though?”
While Jimin had been talking, Yoongi gradually scooted closed so no space was left between their bodies. His lips stayed brushing against Jimin’s forehead, and in between sentences, he’d peck the expanse of skin revealed from tousled hair with a soft kind of affection. “I had a friend call me. It was pretty important… and I have to go back to Seoul today. The next flight that there is, actually.”
If they weren’t in the city, and maybe in a tent, all they’d hear is crickets chirping. No response came from Jimin, except a small ‘oh’, and that was it. Yoongi resorted to tracing his fingers up and down Jimin’s exposed arm, for the first time, nervously waiting for something. He didn’t get all that nervous anymore.
“You’re living in Seoul, now, right? We could exchange numbers if you wanted, and meet up again there,” he sounded as clingy as one could be, but there had barely been any shame is admitting that he felt a pull towards Jimin, albeit a strange one, with how quick things had gone for them in less than a day.
Nodding, Jimin hummed. “I’d like that. A lot,” then his arms were wrapping around Yoongi’s neck and bringing him in for a kiss. It ended with Yoongi on top of him, and him laughing into the kiss. “Round two?”
“Definitely,” Yoongi grinned, tickling Jimin on his sides before going down on him again.
Round two turned into round three, into round four, round five, ongoing. But not in the span of that one day. The two of them had exchanged numbers and kept contact in Seoul. Their first date wasn’t until a month after they’d met up in Seoul, and it happened to be at a carnival, on a very chilly day.
“Cotton candy is a gift from heaven,” Jimin moaned as he stuffed his mouth with another handful of pink crystals.
“It’s just colored sugar. I don’t see the appeal,” Yoongi raised an eyebrow at who he could now officially call his boyfriend. The dork who eyed cotton candy with bigger heart eyes than he did Yoongi.
“Okay, just for insulting my love for that, you have to win me a stuffed animal,” then his pouting boyfriend was dragging him to one of the game tents – a shooting game, amazing – and instead of having Yoongi go first, he handed the cotton candy to Yoongi and took the toy gun to shoot the targets himself.
It was almost painful to watch, for Jimin had missed every single shot. Even the attendant had been cringing, but covered it up with a reassuring smile after each missed shot. Turning away momentarily, Yoongi snorted into his hand and came back to see Jimin glaring at him. Soon, the gun was being shoved in his hands and Jimin was taking the cotton candy back.
“Watch and learn, baby,” once his eye was aligned with the thin scope, he began shooting the targets. All of them that he aimed for had been shot down, and when he lowered the gun with a cocky expression, Jimin was glaring at him.
The attendant handed him a small stuffed animal, so when he put the gun down to check out the small, stuffed duck, Jimin took the gun back and held it back up to his sight. In the blink of an eye, Jimin was shooting down his five choices of targets with precision. The attendant watched with wide eyes, along with Yoongi.
When Jimin put the gun down and grinned up at him, saying. “I’m a fast learner,” Yoongi was more than a lot turned on.
Needless to say, he used the huge stuffed kitten that Jimin won to conceal his boner until it went away that day.
And from going on dates, to practically moving in together in Yoongi’s top notch apartment, Yoongi had eventually popped the big question. Jimin had squealed before saying yes and smothering him in a tight hug, then cried into his jacket. When the word had gotten around his little circle of friends, they didn’t have the best opinions about it because him and Jimin had moved a little bit faster than most couples.
That’s mostly what caused them to have a marriage with only close family invited. The first time that Yoongi realized that their marriage would definitely be different, was when he found himself hiring actors to be like his family. It wasn’t like he wanted to do it that way, but he didn’t exactly have any family who wasn’t involved in a life like his. Jimin didn’t need to be involved with that.
The second thing was, they lived in a very competitive lifestyle. Who was better at cooking, who was better at making the bed, who was better at sex. Although, when it came to sex, both of them settled on the fact that they evened each other out perfectly. It wasn’t the kind of competitiveness one would find between two people racing to the finish line, it was over things more petty than that.
Which brings them back to the present. The counseling, it’s just a check up, like he told Heechul during their appointment. Things are still good, still strong, five — six years later. They’re out of Yoongi’s apartment and into a house bigger than what two people typically need, but they’re happy.
Even if there are times when Jimin makes him want to rip his hair out. Being bald has become a very strong consideration in his life. Like that time where Yoongi just wanted to sleep, but Jimin kept going on about how he thinks they need new curtains, and a new rug to match, because he’s an interior designer who’s an expert on that junk.
Yoongi loves Jimin, but like all relationships, there are days where he just needs to nap because of his husband’s antics.
Oh, and don’t forget that one time where Jimin put brussel sprouts in with their dinner. He hates brussels sprouts with a passion, and Jimin knows it. So why put it in their food? He doesn’t know.
“So, did you try out a new recipe today?” Yoongi had asked, using his chopsticks to pick out one of the greens made from Satan himself.
Nodding happily, Jimin said. “Yes. I added brussels sprouts. You should eat them too. They’re very healthy for you,” and ate one right in front of him like some sort of monster.
“Uh, sure…” he gave a tight smile, then grabbed his glass of wine to take a small sip. “Can you hand me the salt, honey?”
“It’s in the middle of the table, sweetheart,” Jimin furrowed his eyebrows and pointed at the shaker, right where he said it was, in the middle. “You know, that place that both you and I can reach. I’m enjoying my food at the moment.”
Poking his tongue in his cheek, Yoongi leaned forward and grabbed the salt. “At least one of us is,” he muttered under his breath.
“What was that?”
“Nothing, baby. Dinner is delicious.”
Everyday problems, see?
If there’s one thing that’s messier than a mission that’s a motherfucker to take care of, it’s a neighbourhood party mostly filled with people who he despises, people who despise him back. He’s gotten lucky enough that at least two of his buddies have to attend as well.
Him and Jimin walk up to their neighbour’s doorstep with his hand on the small of Jimin’s back. With a couple knocks on the door, it’s opening up for them to see their annoying ass neighbours who trim their hedges at neck height just to be able to say hi to either of them while on their ways to work.
Today’s mission had been rather easy. Act drunk enough and have a lot of money, and come across a few idiotic sleezes who are just as drunk as one is pretending to be, then getting a couple of bullets through their skulls is no biggie. That doesn’t mean that it hadn’t worn Yoongi out, because literally every little inconvenient thing wears him out. This party? He wishes that he could shove his middle fingers up it’s asshole.
“Hello, Yoongi-ssi. Nice seeing you again!” Minhyuk greets him like an overexcited puppy. ‘Again’ being because, while Yoongi was mowing the yard earlier that day, Minhyuk had decided to walk out of his house in his underwear and try to hold conversation with Yoongi over their hedge.
The heart printed, baggy underwear might just scar Yoongi for life if he ever has to see them and only that on his neighbour again.
“Hmph,” he nods in Minhyuk’s direction while he and Jimin shed their coats and top them on the rack. Before they part ways, Yoongi places a hand on the back of his husband’s neck and brings him in for a kiss, staying chaste but bordering hungry. He thinks he comes away with some of Jimin’s lipstick on him. “Have fun, doll. If anyone says anything, come to me and we’ll leave instantly.”
Jimin pecks his cheek and plays with the bottom tufts of his hair. “You’re worrying about me? You’re cute, darling,” he whispers, then parts from Yoongi to interact with others.
One of the things that really gets on Yoongi’s nerves, is that some of these people still have the audacity to talk about the two husbands in the neighbourhood like him and Jimin are venom spewing from their lungs. He knows that Jimin can handle it, and even stands up for them both, but it doesn’t hurt to keep coming up with possible excuses to leave the party earlier.
All the way up the stairs, second door on the left, comes a loud laugh that’s familiar enough for Yoongi to feel both annoyed and comforted by it. He opens the door up to the game room and sees Hoseok sitting in Jeongguk’s lap, both of them giggling over something that one of them must have said.
“Am I interrupting something?” he asks, shutting the door behind him and snorting as the two of them jump apart.
“Not at all, hyung! Just having some fun at this boring ass party,” Hoseok sighs, and Jeongguk reaches forward to grab a file and some papers from the coffee table in front of them.
As of now, he’ll give a blushing Jeongguk and Hoseok of little gained composure the benefit of the doubt. “Does boss not think I’m being worked to death already? Soon, I’ll be quitting just so I can have an entire day in my bed,” he grumbles, sitting down between Hoseok and Jeongguk.
“As long as the world keeps turning, there’s still people out there who need to be killed, I’m afraid,” Hoseok chirps, sounding quite excited for someone who’s ready to hear about Yoongi’s next target. “Tell him, Jeonggukie.”
Jeongguk shuffles some of the papers in order and takes a deep breath in before speaking. “Kim Donghae, illegally relocated from Incheon to Mexico City. He’s got his hands on some weaponry and uniforms imported from the States, and is planning to get it shipped to Russian associates. He’s a big enough threat to the firm on his own, and if other people get those weapons too, we’re pretty much done for.”
Money is a big thing when it comes to weapons, and anything uniform related – vests, boots, all the way down to jacket buttons and the badges, all comes to thousands of dollars put into them. Go against the government, find a way to become an international arms dealer, and one could be set for life as long as no officials find out.
Now, Yoongi and his friends are no saints themselves, but when it comes to their own jobs and lives being put on the line because one bad guy wants to give out said arms to other bad guys, then that’s not going to happen.
“Also,” Hoseok interjects. “we got word from boss that another group has their eyes on this guy too. They’re the same guys who have stolen some of our jobs from us in the past. If they kill Donghae, boss is going to be pissed,” there’s no way that Hoseok says that lightly.
Being in a world where someone is either an assassin or they aren’t, there’s plenty of people out there trying to take their work out of their hands for their own rewards. Yoongi is one of those people, and it seems that someone else is just as keen on stealing money out from under him as he is to do the same to them.
He’ll choose to save his breath on that, and focus on the other Big Thing needing to be talked about. “Jesus fuck. You want me to go all the way to Mexico? How do I go away for that long without letting anything slip to Jimin?”
Hoseok shrugs. “Say that me and Guk wanted you to come along on a trip with us. A slightly long one. Surely you two can abstain from sex for that long.”
“Doesn’t mean I want to. I’m sure he’ll buy it, I guess,” he groans and pushes his hair back away from his eyes. Min Yoongi is done and wants to go home with his husband now. Guilt from lying to Jimin still hasn’t gotten any better, even after all these years. “When do I have to leave?”
Jeongguk cringes, and Hoseok chuckles nervously. “About that…”
There’s two days before he has to leave for Mexico. He huffs with each step down the stairs, only calming (although his heart picks up in pace) when seeing Jimin in the living room with the same group of people as before, but with a baby in his lap. He looks fairly uncomfortable holding the child, but ends up smiling at the baby not much longer after.
He’s never considered children with Jimin. Not yet, with how hectic his work seems to make his life at the moment. He doesn’t have time for a kid, barely has time for his husband these days. And Jimin’s never brought up wanting children either. Maybe one day, when the world seems to slow down for a while, it can come up as an option.
At the same time, he wishes that he could get a break now. A break from work, from killing bad men, and start putting his priorities into finding the right rattle and baby carriage.
They’ll get there in their own time.
“So, Hoseok and Jeongguk want me to go on a guy’s trip with them day after tomorrow,” he informs once they’ve gotten inside their room, retreated for the night. “We’d probably be gone for a few days at the most.”
Jimin takes his shirt off and hangs it up. With his torso exposed, Yoongi notices the hem of a pair of fishnets snug around his waist, above his pants. It makes him want to question his husband, but he doesn’t bother. Sometimes Jimin likes to wear things that definitely aren’t to the likes of other people, but Yoongi’s made it clear that he wants Jimin to be as comfortable as possible in his presence alone.
“Oh, that’s fine. Taehyung and Seokjin were actually thinking that us three could have our own short trip this week too.”
Yoongi perks up at this. “Hope you have a good time, baby,” he pulls off his own shirt too and replaces it with him pajama one. “You look really nice tonight, by the way. You look good every night, but, damn. You’re stunning, Min.”
A soft giggle erupts from Jimin, and he comes over to Yoongi sitting on the edge of their bed, and sits in his lap. “Ya really think so?” he bites his lip to conceal a grin, which doesn’t work. Yoongi grins back and nods, leaning forward to brush their noses together.
“I know so,” he says.
Shyly, Jimin hides his face against Yoongi’s shirt and shuffles in his lap. “You still make me so blushy, it’s embarrassing.”
He grabs ahold of Jimin’s wrists and pulls them back so Jimin moves with them, and he can look his husband in the eye again. “It’s adorable. I love it,” he pauses when Jimin pecks the tip of his nose with a cute ‘mwah’, and chuckles. “I love you, sunshine. So much.”
“I love you too, hyung,” Jimin sends him to lay back on the bed all of the way, so the two of them can tug off their jeans. Yoongi’s breath only hitches a little when seeing Jimin wearing black panties underneath the fishnets.
Forgoing removing said tights, Jimin goes over to their walk in closet and takes out one of Yoongi’s oversized shirts and lets himself drown in it. Once he’s shut their closet door, he hops on their bed and toppled over Yoongi before flattening himself against his husband.
“How did work go today?” Yoongi asks softly, brushing his fingers through Jimin’s hair, knowingly lulling the younger into a tempting pull of sleep.
Tucking himself even closer to Yoongi, with one arm sling over his stomach and their legs entwined, Jimin yawns, resembling that of a kitten. “Tiring. We were supposed to have an order of lounge chairs come in today, but they’ve been delayed for anywhere between this Friday and Wednesday, but we need them Thursday,” his husband is so cute when he’s disheveled, but he still sympathizes with Jimin because he feels bad for him.
“Anything else?” he questions again, slowly littering Jimin’s face with butterfly kisses. “Cuddle time is the best time to let your problems out,” he says, soaking in Jimin’s precious laughter, and small hands bunching up the fabric of his shirt as they try to push him away. He knows that the kisses tickle, knows that the slightest of touches set Jimin off.
“Hyung! It tickles!” Jimin whines in between his bursts of laughter. When Yoongi lets him, Jimin hovers over Yoongi and does the same thing, making sure to plush little kisses over his eyelids, cheeks, nose, everywhere. “Other than that, work was good. What about you?”
Yoongi’s side job – the cover up one, is being a photographer. It’s the only one Jimin thinks he has. It’s a legit job that he has, but it doesn’t bring in the money that his official one does. All the time, he wishes that he could just plop on the couch beside Jimin after a rough night, and tell him about how tiring it gets having to kill more and more people each week. How it’s taking a toll on him, how he just wants to be a family man who comes home from a shitty office job and props their toddler on his hip and kisses his husband at the door. But he can’t, because it’s too dangerous for Jimin.
At least he can tell the truth about the photography part of his life. “I’ve got a scheduled shoot for a wedding next week. Thing is, I’m pretty sure that the soon to be husband is cheating on his soon to be wife with the bridesmaid.”
“Ooh, spicy drama,” Jimin grins, and settles his final kiss on Yoongi’s lips. A greedy complaint unravels from Yoongi once he’s pulled away, so he gives another kiss to fulfill his husband’s current needs.
“I didn’t have a bad day at work, but this is so much better. Wish we could be like this forever,” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around Jimin’s waist and hugging him.
“One day, when things aren’t so hectic, sweetheart. I wish we could too,” Jimin reassures him. “I love you,” and his head drops down onto Yoongi’s chest, his cheek squishing against the surface.
“I’ll always love you, Min,” he murmurs, his final kiss of the night being to Jimin’s temple. “Sleep tight.”
One thing Yoongi will never lie to Jimin about, is his love for him.
The next day is spent packing for his trip. When Jimin’s left for work, he goes into their closet and inserts a code on the keypad hidden behind all of his suit jackets. The rack splits in half and makes way for a part of the wall that opens up like a door. He goes in and grabs the certain clothing that he needs to fit desert terrain. Only boots, cargo pants, and different colored (and camouflage, his least favorite of all) shirts are in the room, but it’s clothing that he doesn’t want Jimin asking why he has them. He wouldn’t wear these outside of a job for anything.
When Jimin gets home that night, Yoongi offers to pack for him considering he looks so tired. His husband just gives him a greeting kiss and shakes his head, murmuring a quiet ‘thank you, sweetheart.’
The day after that, Yoongi bids goodbye to Jimin in bed. A quiet hum of acknowledgment comes from Jimin after he’s kissed his forehead and said goodbye. He carries his suitcase downstairs and rolls it into their garage, and kicks aside a rug that’s by his car, and opens the hatch underneath it. Once he’s down the ladder, he takes out a duffle bag from on the closest bench and takes a quick look at all of his guns hung up on different parts of the wall, knives layered on benches and shelves, even a handy little box of grenades.
He stuffs his bag with a Heckler and Koch P7M13, a few flashbang grenades, and an M16. If the mission goes his way, then those will be all that he needs, along with a very special friend.
Whoever thinks that one cannot have fun while getting ready to kill someone and their army of numerable men, really needs to try driving a dune buggy around recklessly in the middle of the desert. Find what little cool air that there is to be found within such a dry area by sticking a hand or foot out and there’s the air conditioning. Yoongi’s laughter would be echoing if he were in a Valley with great acoustics, each time he gets a small amount of air time after driving over a hill.
It’s even more fun knowing exactly where the enemy is located – not the one he’s ordered to kill, but the one whom he wants to kill. The one who keeps stealing his fucking jobs. He knows exactly what he’s doing when he drives into the other assassin's territory, knows when he triggers a laser going across the abandoned air strip that Donghae will be coming down any minute, and knows that if the other assassin doesn’t play their cards right, everything in the area will go ‘boom’ before the target has even arrived to the proper destination.
Parking far away enough that he can still see the wooden stand, and making sure that the other person can still see him, he gets out of the buggy and turns away from the stand and unzips his shorts to take a piss. The shorts match beautifully with his goofy looking Hawaiian shirt.
A part of Yoongi, just for the hell of it, wants to turn around and helicopter his dick out just as a nice pre-homicide present for them to see, right before he turns them into a firework display.
When he’s done with his business, he trots back over to the buggy and takes out a prized possession of his, a last second decision before leaving the garage. It’s proper term is a R-47 Widowmaker, but Yoongi’s name for her is ‘Holly’, and he loves her very much.
As soon as he lifts it up over his shoulder, he turns back around and aims it for the person sitting in the stand. Through the scope, he recognizes what seems to be a gun in the hands of his opponent. The ordeal doesn’t have time to process before a sudden pain is barreling into his shoulder and sending him to the ground.
He just got shot. That bastard really shot him. There’s about to be hell to pay and sows to reap. The temperature is doubling over fifty degrees Fahrenheit and this asshole is really trying to turn him into a human burger patty out here.
“Fuck!” he yells, although he’s acquainted with the pain by now. It struck his vest, luckily, but fuck. What an asshole, not even letting him have enough time to pull the trigger. He staggers back onto his knees and angrily pulls off his hat and sunglasses, then lugs Holly back over his shoulder. The scope shows the other person getting ready to run, just as he shoots the missile.
“Take that, motherfucker! No one fucking shoots me and gets away with it,” he grumbles, watching the stand go up in flames and dust clouds filling the air.
And as if his day couldn’t get any worse in such a short amount of time, just as he begins to walk in the direction of the now demolished stand, the entire area around him sets off in an explosion that knocks him back to the ground. If he ends up on the ground one more time, he’s going to stay there and take a much needed nap. Donghae be damned.
That’s when he hears tires screeching against sand, and sees three vehicles quickly turning away from the area and speeding off. With another huff, he stands up and picks the bullet out of his vest, tucking it in his pocket along with picking up a trashed computer.
Not only has he missed the agency's target, but he’s missed his own personal target. Great, fantastic, start bringing in the eulogies any time now.
It also turns out, there will always be someone out there who is more disappointed about something than anyone else can imagine. That person, for Yoongi, is none other than —
“When I gave Hoseok-ah Donghae’s file to give to you, meaning for you to kill him, that wasn’t code for ‘let Donghae escape and have someone who is not you be the first to tell me about it',” Jongin slams Donghae’s file against his desk and leans back in his office chair. Behind Yoongi, Hoseok is attempting to hold in his laughter. Yoongi is not amused, nor ashamed. Just angry.
“I know, but Jongin—“
“Sir, I know that,” Yoongi corrects himself and takes a step closer to the desk. “But there was another assassin there – probably the one who’s been fucking up my work for the past five years – and I couldn’t just let them go.”
“Did you?” Jongin asks with an eyebrow raised, glare setting on Yoongi without falter.
Confusion setting in, he gulps. “What?”
“Did you let them go as well? A simple question, Yoongi.”
Now Yoongi feels the shame bubbling up in his gut. It’s not a nice feeling, especially when it’s because of who one is under authority of. Jongin is the only person to make him feel like a fool, and he despises it. “...Yes. They got away, but I still saw them, and I almost had them.”
A form of confidence is to always look who one is talking to in the eye, but when Jongin can’t even seem to look at him in general, he can’t help but duck his head. “And I’m sure you almost killed Donghae too. Can you specifically identify this other assassin?”
Yoongi shakes his head, and speaks quietly but sharply. “I have a computer from them, though. It’s possibly salvageable still, and if I could get it working, I could track the guy.”
A sigh sounds from Jongin, and Yoongi looks up to see a gentle nod. “I should be firing you, but I’m not going to. I want you to find out who this other assassin is and kill him, if you can’t do that, you can pack your things and leave, if you stay alive to do so. Which, I doubt you will.”
Hoseok gasps behind him, and he can say that he’s just as surprised. Vigorously nodding, Yoongi bows. “Have more faith in me, why don’t you? I will succeed, Sir.”
“Remember, targets first and inconveniences second. I’ll hold you to your word, Yoongi. Now both of you, out of my sight.”
When him and Hoseok leave Jongin’s office, Hoseok is running ahead of him down the hallway and walking backwards to face him. “You got lucky as hell, my friend. I can’t believe he let you off the hook like that.”
“Ah, I’m not off the hook quite yet. There’s a big chance I’ll end up eating my words,” he grimaces at the thought of losing against his ‘competition’.
“Please, Min Yoongi is the biggest, baddest motherfucker to walk this earth. You’ve got this!”
It helps to have a best friend who believes in him, when he lacks the faith in himself, at least.
Before they split up at the end of the hall, Hoseok asks for the computer that Yoongi had been able to take. “I have a friend who’s really intelligent when it comes to computers, like, the hacker kind of intelligent, you know? He could probably find something for you, help out a lot and stuff.”
So Yoongi agrees, because he’s not really digging the idea of trying to find a reliable tech geek who won’t rat him out to any police or high officials. And he trusts Hoseok enough to where he thinks he can trust this so called genius, so he gives the computer to his best friend and thanks him.
Time to go home, back to Jimin. Finally.
“Baby, I’m home!” Yoongi calls out as soon as he’s through the door.
“In the bathroom,” is the reply he gets, and he leaves his suitcase at the door and heads in the direction of the bathroom down the hall between their dining room and living room.
He pushes the door open and the sight that he’s met with, is one to behold. His beautiful husband sits in the bath, bubbles floating atop the water, and his blonde hair fanned out across the rim of the tub as he lays his head back. In an instant, Yoongi is sliding his shirt off and ditching the rest of his clothes too.
Jimin scoots forward to make room for him in the back, and as soon as he’s dipped into the water, limbs wrapped around his love, his muscles relax and a content sigh spills out from the both of them. He winces when Jimin lays back on him, hitting the bruise with his shoulder blade. The flinch hadn’t been too discreet, which means that as soon as it happens, Jimin is twisting around to frown at him.
That’s when Jimin notices the medium sized bruise on his shoulder, and traces it with his fingers in a concerned manner. “Baby, what on earth happened to you? This looks terrible.”
“Hoseok decided that it would be a great idea to play putt putt, even though he and a golf club are pretty much incompatible,” a lie, but a very believable one for anyone who knows Hoseok the slightest bit. “When he swung, he accidentally let go of the club and the handle of it hit me.”
It has Jimin smiling dumbly just thinking about it, and the younger shakes his head. “Did the rest of your trip go okay?” he asks, pressing a soft kiss to Yoongi’s chin.
“Mhm, did you, Jin-hyung, and Taehyung have fun on yours?” he asks, soothingly rubbing his hand over Jimin’s thigh. Something feels harsh under his hand, and he looks down to see a scar on Jimin’s thigh.
“Yeah, we just went to Daegu to see Tae's family, but I had a lot of fun. Tae's dog tackled me when we had to leave, though,” Jimin tells him, looking down at the scar as well. “I just happened to scar where there was a hole in my jeans because of it. I think his dog loves me more than you,” he giggles teasingly.
Yoongi noses against the nape of Jimin’s neck and playfully bites the skin there, chuckling at the way Jimin squeals. “Impossible. Not only do I love you more than that dog, but I can give better kisses too. See?” he grins and begins trailing kisses down Jimin’s neck, up to his jaw, and nips at the section behind his ear.
Jimin places his hands on Yoongi’s knees and tilts his head to the side so Yoongi has better access. “Y-yeah. Way better kisses, darling,” he says. “I have somewhere else I want you to kiss me.”
“Hm? Where may that be?” he hums, slowly gliding one hand down Jimin’s tummy to his hardening cock. “Here?”
“No,” Jimin whines, taking Yoongi’s hand in his own and bringing it past the water, down to his hole. “Here. Please, I missed you so much.”
Home sweet home.
A couple of days later, Jimin’s at work and it’s a quiet day at home for Yoongi. Most of its event spent on the couch while watching The Simpsons, and playing Animal Crossing on his phone. He’s in the middle of catching a fish for Goldie when his phone starts ringing. Hoseok’s caller ID shows up, and he begrudgingly gives up his fish to answer it.
“What is it, Seok-ah?” he mumbles, muting the tv before Hoseok decides to ramble on whatever today’s topic may be. “It better be important, I was in the middle of fishing.”
“Um, what? Since when do you fish? Wait, never mind — this is really important. My friend found out who the computer belongs to, and if you’re standing up right now, I’d suggest you take a seat,” Hoseok rushes out, and his usually chipper attitude has dissipated into something seemingly worried and upset, even.
“Hey, I know I’m a pain in the ass to work with, but try not to sound too upset over me keeping my job,” he snorts. Things only turn serious for him when he hears Hoseok sigh over the other line. “Is.. is it that bad? What the hell did you find on there?”
“Hyung, I swear, I had Namjoon rescan the computer an innumerable amount of times for the possibility of coming up with a different answer, but it just wasn’t happening. I didn’t want it to be true, because I knew that it would hurt you especially.”
Growing agitated, he spits. “Tell me what the fuck is going on—“
“It’s Jimin,” Hoseok interrupts him. “The other assassin is Jimin. Every refresh, only the name ‘Min Jimin’ was coming up, with his company’s address.”
I want you to find out who this other assassin is and kill him.
Without another word, Yoongi jams the end call button and drops his phone to the floor. He stares up at the ceiling, so caught up in the information he’s just been fed, that he doesn’t even notice the tears that have already begun trailing down his cheeks. Now that he knows, he wonders how he hadn’t realized it before. It was definitely right in front of him here and there during their marriage.
Fucking hell; he’s familiar with being shot, familiar with the pain that that brings, but somehow, that pain is nowhere near equivalent to the pain of finding out that his husband is his biggest enemy at the moment. Scratch that – has been his biggest enemy since before they officially even met. He’s had to have been the one to infiltrate most of his missions, the reason why he could have been fired, or killed. That person who he launched a missile at in Mexico, who he’d attempted to kill mercilessly, was his own fucking husband.
Every lie he’s told to Jimin, each ounce of guilt he’s ever felt for lying, Jimin’s been doing the same thing to him each time. His husband who’s full of giggles, whose smile is softer than their fluffiest blanket, and whose eyes disappear when he laughs hard enough, is just like him. He has to wonder, since the lying has been coming from both ends all this time, how much of their marriage is actually a marriage?
The thought is one he doesn’t want to fathom, because Hoseok was right. It hurts so fucking much, like his heart is trembling enough for his whole body to shake and just ache. It explains too much, it especially explains that one day at the carnival, where Jimin had claimed to be a fast learner. He wasn’t a fast learner, he was a professional killer, just like him. And the thing is, Jimin is so good at acting like he isn’t any of those things. He’s sure fooled Yoongi into thinking that he’s some sort of angel, just like he has with everyone else.
Two can play at this game, because it’s time for him to get precious revenge for the betrayal and hurt that he feels.
He grabs his phone off of the floor after wiping his eyes and dials Jimin’s number. He can’t say that he’s all that surprised when Taehyung picks up instead of Jimin himself. Maybe Taehyung is an assassin too, and Seokjin, hm. “Taehyung-ah?” he greets calmly.
“Yoongi-hyung, hi! Jimin’s busy at the moment, but you can still talk to me for what you need?” Taehyung chirps.
“Yes, please. Can you ask him what time dinner will be at?”
There’s some shuffling before Yoongi hears Taehyung faintly asks Jimin his question. Then more shuffling, and another voice sounds through, along with Taehyung's that sounds whiney. That other voice turns out to be Seokjin. "Hi, Yoongi! Long time no talk," it sounds like Taehyung's yelling in the background, but Seokjin ignores it. "Jimin said that dinner's at seven!"
“As always. Thank you, Jin-hyung,” Yoongi smiles. “Have a good day.”
“You too, Yoongi-ah!”
Later that day, he’d left to get the computer back from Hoseok. He also may have dealt with his crisis in a fairly emotional manner to his best friend, who ended up having to comfort him during his visit.
When he gets back home, Jimin’s car is in the driveway. His anger and sadness have mixed in together and created one big mess inside his brain, and before he lets it take him over, he slaps himself and gets out of the car. He’s wary with each step he takes, cautious of the man whom he used to welcome with open arms. If Jimin is anything opposite as to what Yoongi used to think of him as, then he must have some sort of idea of what Yoongi’s up to as well.
He’s suspicious when he walks into the kitchen and nobody’s in there. It seems like the house is rather vacant altogether, which it would be if Jimin decided to be a coward, now of all times. Years of training let’s him be anything but startled when he rounds the corner behind their fridge, and Jimin pops up in front of him with two glasses of a clear liquid, one held out in front of him.
“Where did you go off to?” Jimin asks with an endearing smile nudging the glass a little closer to him. It is not the time to think about how in love you are, Yoongi, snap out of it.
Acting completely normal, he accepts the glass, cups Jimin’s jaw with his free hand, and kisses his cheek. “Went to Hoseok’s. I accidentally left one of my belongings with him from the trip. But I’m back now, sunshine,” he says, rubbing his thumb over the small scape of skin padded under it. How can someone with such squishy cheeks be so deadly?
“That you are. Dinner’s ready, on the bright side. Shall we eat?” Jimin’s smile becomes brighter after Yoongi’s small act of affection. It breaks Yoongi’s heart a little more, simultaneously fueling him with a bigger desire to get this over with.
“We shall,” Yoongi replies, then Jimin turns his head to kiss the inside of Yoongi’s palm, and walks to their dining room. Before following, Yoongi takes a glance down at his drink, then at the container of Drano Gel set on the kitchen counter, anything but subtle. He empties his glass in one of their potted plants on the way to the table.
In the dining room, Jimin holds a chair out for him, the one at the head of the table. He sees candles placed on the table, settled in the candleholders that Jimin had brought home from work once, exclaiming that he had been the one to design them, and they let him take four of the finished product with him. As foolish as it is, he wonders if Jimin really did put his heart and soul into designing a wonderful floral pattern into the silver surface.
“You only take these out for special occasions,” he points out, still eyeing the candles as he sits down.
“Tonight’s a very special night, Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin cocks his head to the side during his reply, and looks down at Yoongi’s empty glass. Like he’s making fun of him, Jimin picks an olive out of his glass and pops it in his mouth, returning to the kitchen right after.
He knows. He definitely knows.
Quickly, Yoongi stuffs a butter knife on the inside pocket of his jacket before Jimin comes back in. On a silver platter in Jimin’s hands, is pot roast. “Oh, my favorite. Tonight really is special, huh?” he quips. Jimin hums and pulls the carving fork out of the pot roast, and holds up his large cutting knife. Yoongi’s eyes go wide and he shuffles out of his chair and behind his husband. “You’ve worked all day and all night, honey. How about I do this for you, alright?”
“If you say so,” Jimin nods. He goes over to the other side of the table where a loaf of bread sits, and whips out an even bigger knife from his apron. Yoongi hides his shock by clearing his throat.
“So, how has work been recently?” Yoongi asks after sitting down.
Jimin’s scooping green beans onto his plate when he looks up at Yoongi. “There’s been some more problems with shipping, and we had a run in with another company this week. Although, I’m sure it’ll get taken care of if we take things into our own hands this time,” he comes over to Yoongi and gestures down to the bowl he’s holding. “Green beans?”
“No thank you,” Yoongi says. He gets green beans anyway. “Oh, well, I hope you do get it sorted.”
See, he’s just beginning to realize how terrifying Jimin can truly be. When he smiles at Yoongi, he has the evil glint in his eyes that makes him feel like Jimin’s hammering him down into the ground’s core.
As soon as Jimin seats himself, he begins cutting up the pot roast. “Sunshine, could you pass the salt— oh, nevermind,” he laughs when seeing both spices planted right in front of his plate.
He’d say their dinner goes very awkwardly, if not for the way they keep staring at each other. Jimin watches him like a hawk, smug smile still adorning his features while he eats the pot roast. Something is off with the roast, and he currently wonders if he should have waited for Jimin to eat it first. “New recipe again?” he questions, loudly gulping down the bite of roast.
“Yes. I thought it was time to change things up. Does it taste okay?”
“It tastes lovely,” Yoongi forces a grin, hoping it doesn’t look too much like a cringe. Standing up from his chair, he goes over to the wine and takes one of the glasses off of the table. “Would you like a glass of wine?” he gives it to Jimin without waiting for a reply, then drops the bottle of wine.
Stealthily, Jimin catches the bottle before it hits the rug underneath and looks up at Yoongi, whose expression is somewhere between impressed and complexed. Suddenly, Jimin drops the bottle too, and the red wine stains the rug.
“I’ll get the stain remover!” Yoongi says, jogging towards their staircase.
“I’ve got it!” Jimin says at the same time, heading into the kitchen.
While he’s in the upstairs bathroom, he reaches all the way back into their bottom cupboard, below the sink and sticks his hand into a cut out hole in the wall where he takes out a pistol with the suppressor on it. Going back downstairs, he keeps the pistol held out in front of him, and checks around the corner of every wall before moving forward.
“Jimin, honey,” he calls out, to no response from his husband.
Abruptly, a car darts out of their driveway, and Yoongi’s racing out of their house to try and chase it. He runs out of his yard to follow Jimin, hops over Minhyuk’s precious hedges, inevitable destroying them, then makes a quick crossing of their street and over another person’s fence. His husband circles around the neighbourhood, he catches onto, and tries making his way back in enough time.
Unfortunately, because running has never been a strong suit of his, he crashes into someone’s fence just as Jimin’s car comes into view, and accidentally pulls the trigger of his pistol. For a moment, he’s scared shitless thinking that he’s actually killed Jimin, until he sees movement behind the windshield.
“Min Yoongi, you fucked up,” he whispers to himself, hopping over the fence and into the middle of the road. He holds his hands up in surrender and yells. “Honey, it was an accident! You get your foot off of that gas pedal right now! ...Please?
Not listening to him, Jimin revs the car and speeds right for him. Adding onto the pain he still feels from crashing into that fence, the pain from getting hit by a car and struggling to stay on top of it while his husband keeps swerving to knock him off, is nothing short of a nightmare.
“Jimin, sweetheart, you’re overreacting! I didn’t even shoot you, come on,” he defends himself poorly, and props himself over the sunroof. “We should talk about this, because I don’t want to sleep on the couch tonight,” and when Jimin tries pulling the sunroof of the car closed, Yoongi breaks through the glass and lands inside the car on his front. “Stop the fucking car, please!”
Word of advice from Yoongi, never marry someone who is stubborn enough to make up for the other’s lack of it. Jimin opens his door and jumps out of the car, and it’s not too long before Yoongi realizes that he’s in the backseat of a car with no driver. He gets out of the car right before it goes flying down a hill, and when he turns back, Jimin’s out of sight.
So that leaves him with Hoseok’s being his next destination. He doesn’t want to risk going back home and getting his brains blown out by his pissed off husband, so whether it be a good idea or not, he goes to his best friend. There’s two reasons as to why it could be a bad idea. 1). Hoseok lives with Jeongguk. 2.) Hoseok lives on the other side of their neighbourhood. Given, it’s a good distance away from their house, but not too far. Jimin could kill him in his sleep if he wanted to.
“You look like you’ve been put through the ringer and back,” Jeongguk deadpans, being the one to have opened the door due to his constant knocking.
“Married couple disputes do that to ya, Guk,” Yoongi huffs, pushing past Jeongguk and walking into the living room where he can hear Hoseok laughing from. “The computer was right. Jimin’s the guy, and I think he’s more capable of killing me than I am him.”
Hoseok’s laughter at the show he’s watching stops, and he gapes at Yoongi, who looks like a downright mess, to put it lightly. His best friend is standing up from the couch and pulling him into a hug before he can really comprehend what else he’s supposed to do. He just curls his palms into Hoseok’s shirt and sighs against the fabric.
“I love him, but going by tonight’s results, I don’t think he ever took our marriage seriously,” he rightfully sulks. Warmth comes up from behind him, and he feels Jeongguk giving him a back hug to comfort him too. “I’ve been an idiot for six whole years.”
“Nah, hyung, you’ve been an idiot for twenty-four. You can’t just assume stuff, okay? He’s probably in the same boat as you are right now, feeling hurt and confused about everything,” Hoseok murmurs, curling the brown strands of Yoongi’s hair around his fingers.
“That’s right. We’ve all seen Jimin-hyung around someone he hates, and someone he loves. There was nothing fake about his love for you,” Jeongguk says.
But there was. So much in their marriage in general, had been completely false and fake. Though Yoongi doesn’t reply, and instead asks Hoseok if he can stay the night sleeping on their couch.
“No way. You’re sleeping in bed with Guk-ah and I.”
He’ll deal with the rest tomorrow, but for now, he tucks himself between his two friends and let’s their soft playing with his hair and back rubs lull him to sleep.
The next day, Hoseok and Jeongguk are reluctant to let him go back to the house, but he reassures them that he’s got his emotions under control this time, and can handle it responsibly.
Yes, he totally can be responsible, he tells himself as he knocks on Minhyuk’s door, proposing an offer for him to come over to his house. Minhyuk, like the obsessed creep he is, agrees instantly. Despite having a wife, Minhyuk gets way too excited over Yoongi keeping a hand on his shoulder and getting a look into his house. Unknown to his neighbour, Yoongi’s basically using him as a shield in case Jimin comes out of nowhere and decides to be trigger happy.
“It’s really neat in here. How do you and Jimin manage to keep your house clean on top of dealing with bills and work?” Minhyuk marvels over their interior, which is definitely different from how it had been yesterday.
A lot of their furniture had been replaced with new ones Yoongi’s never seen before. That’s most likely the doing of Jimin and his team.
“There’s time for everything if you budget properly,” he replies monotonously, checking one last room before heading back into the hallway. “Find something to keep yourself occupied. I have to go to the garage for a bit.”
“Oh, can I come—“
If worse comes to worst, then he knows what that means. Opening the door to the garage, he finds his rug kicked over and his hatch revealed. “Dammit,” he mutters, opening up the hatch and climbing down the ladder.
Each and every weapon is gone, completely cleared out from his bunker. Jimin doesn’t mess around, it seems, and he’s actually really proud of his husband for being so thoughtful and tricky.
Tricky, because there’s a note waiting for him on one of the shelves. He picks it up and reads the handwriting he’s all too familiar with.
The first part of the note reads, “I never intended for things to be this way, but it’s either I kill you, you kill me, or my boss kills both you and I within the next forty-eight hours. It’s your choice.”
To which he sighs out a long breath. The second part says. “Oh, and you might want to work on your aiming skills, darling - Sunshine”
A smirk slowly tugs at the corner of his lips.
“So, you have about thirty or so hours until Jimin’s boss sends out people to kill the both of you? How am I supposed to take that information lightly?!” Hoseok screeches, running out of the living room for a moment and returning with a shotgun in his hands. “I love you, hyung, but if there’s going to be people barging into my home, I’m going to give you up if it means saving my Fenti collection."
“I think I have around twenty hours, actually,” Yoongi says, calmly flipping through channels on the tv.
Hoseok’s eyes go wide. “Twenty fucking hou—“
“Seokkie-hyung, why do you have a shotgun?” Jeongguk comes in, making Hoseok jump and cock his shotgun, simultaneously turning to face Jeongguk, who holds his hands up.
“Guk!” Hoseok shouts. “Now is not the time to just come up on people like you’re trying to attack them, Jesus Christ! I could have fucking shot you, then you’d be dead, then I’d be single, and then I’d have to cry over my dead boyfriend’s body. Do you want that, huh?” Yoongi watches in amusement as Hoseok goes off his rocker while Jeongguk still has his hands up.
“This is my house too! I should be able to walk in whenever I want and ask why you’re holding a shotgun!” Jeongguk retorts, lowering his hands and slowly retreating from the living room. “But, nevermind, continue on with whatever bullshit you’re going on about now. Love you, babe.”
“I love you too, bunny,” Hoseok grumbles. When Jeongguk’s gone, he turns back to Yoongi. “Listen, I say this as nicely as possible, but you need to take Jimin out. Because all jokes aside, I don’t feel like losing my best friend tomorrow.”
“Don’t count on doing so either.”
“I— why are you so calm about this? You’ve barely even looked way from the tv.”
“That’s because… here we are,” Yoongi pauses the television as soon as an ad for a contracting company comes up.
Jimin’s mentioned his interior design company associating with it before for certain projects, so why not test out his luck with that being a possible location that Jimin’s hiding out it?
“Kim Contracting Services,” Hoseok reads. “They’re those people building that new workers compensation place across the Han River.”
“Correct. Do you know anywhere where I can get a fake contracting ID?”
Hoseok looks at him for a second before knowingly nodding. “Is that where he is?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
Thanks to Hoseok’s buddy, who Yoongi really wants to meet some time to thank him for helping out so much, he walks into the construction area a day later with a customized hard hat and blue prints for a completely different building tucked under his arm. He nods at whoever he walks past, and enters the building that’s mostly completed.
He gets inside the elevator and pushes the button for the highest floor, but the elevator stops halfway. Soon, a modified voice is coming out of a speaker beside all of the buttons.
“You’re not too fond of playing hard to get, are you?”
Yoongi looks up at the camera tucked in the corner of the elevator and chuckles. “I just want to tell my husband that I still love him, even if he does want me dead.”
There’s a sigh, then the voice comes back, this time not modified, and Jimin’s honey tone fills the small space. “You need to leave, hyung. I’ll open the doors for you, and you can go. If not, I’ll blow the elevator up.”
“Are you sure about that?” Yoongi asks, one eyebrow quirked.
“I am. I’ll do it, don’t test me,” Jimin mumbles.
A part of Yoongi wonders if Jimin absolutely dreads the thought of doing such a thing to him. It’s time to figure out if he’s right or not.
“Fine, do it then, and prove me wrong. Wouldn’t be the first time you blew me,” he holds his arms out in a challenging manner, grinning up at the camera. “Push that little button, sunshine.”
“You asked for it.”
Yoongi is extremely shocked when the elevator suddenly shakes with a loud boom, and he’s falling to the floor while the elevator drops down past all of the floors it had already elevated past.
When the doors open at the very bottom floor, there’s people scattering around the place wondering where the bang had come from. He leaves without anyone paying attention to him, and still clueless about what just happened.
There’s nice memories that come with the restaurant he’s just entered. It’s the place where he proposed to Jimin, and to his surprise (because Jimin is just so out of his league), Jimin had said yes. Before walking out into the main dining hall, he straightens up his suit jacket and checks his breath.
A message had been sent to his phone from an unknown number a while after he snuck out of the construction site without being noticed for his roughed up appearance. It had been brief, telling him where to meet at, specifically down to which table he should go to.
Walking up to the designated table, and behind a man with blonde hair who holds a glass of wine in his hand, Yoongi grabs the bottle of wine and Jimin’s hand to refill the glass. He thinks he sees Jimin wiping a tear away from his eye. “It is too fine of an evening to be crying on such a night, is it not?” he asks.
“Hm, well, my husband died today. I think I have the right to cry,” Jimin says, smiling at him when he comes around to the other side of the table.
“I believe that you were the one who killed him too. Are you one of mixed feelings, Mr. Min?” Yoongi grins and pulls out the chair that he stands behind. “May I sit?”
“No, you may not,” but he watches Yoongi sit down anyway, and covers his mouth whilst he giggles. “We shouldn’t be meeting up like this. After last night, we should be at each other’s throats, holding the barrels of our pistols up to one another’s heads.”
“Well, I don’t think we ever claimed to be a normal couple, sunshine,” Yoongi winks. “You and I both know that we aren’t here to have a casual chat. That being said, why am I here?”
The faint sound of a pistol hammer being cocked back catches his attention. He watches Jimin take his serviette and lay it in his lap, so he subtlety slides his own pistol out from under his belt and copies his husband’s actions.
“I want a divorce,” Jimin answers. “And I want you dead. I just wanted to make that clear.”
“I could already tell by the way you sent me flying down ten floors earlier today. I don’t think this is a healthy way to go about our marriage, so a divorce sounds good. I’m glad that we’re on the same page,” Yoongi shrugs. “Dance with me, one last time before we so tragically part ways.”
“I’m positive the first day we met, you said you weren’t a dancer.”
“It’s been five years, sweetheart. I’m a changed man.”
“Six years, darling,” Jimin hisses, standing up when Yoongi does, and letting the elder take his hand to lead him to the dance floor. “I’d like to see six years try to change someone like you from a sloth into something else.”
Yoongi squeezes down on Jimin’s hand, and has his husband doubling over in temporary pain, mourning for his mildly crushed hand. “Hm, I’m not sure. Look at what six years did to you. I think I can see grey hairs—“
“Be quiet and dance properly,” Jimin glares at him, cutting out the space between them and placing one of his hands on Yoongi’s shoulder, holding his hand with the other. “It’s like you want me to kill you.”
There’s a pillar with a mirror attached to it behind Jimin that Yoongi backs him up against with force. Jimin gives a little ‘oof’ as the mirror cracks, but doesn’t shatter. Once they’re away from the pillar, Yoongi dips Jimin’s body down and drags his hand over his plush ass that he’s missed so much.
“Having fun there?” Jimin asks with a knowing grin.
“Absolutely,” he replies, pulling the tiny knife out of Jimin’s back pocket and slings it into a nearby wall, unnoticed by other guests.
“Then I get to have fun too,” a pout settles on Jimin’s glossy lips, and he crouches down with one leg stretched out between Yoongi’s. An elderly couple nearby eyes them, and he licks his bottom lip and winks at them, grinning when they turn away. He pushes up Yoongi’s pant leg and takes out the tiny pistol tucked under the hem of his shoe. As soon as the pistol is discarded inside someone else’s pocket, Yoongi is lifting him back up.
They move in and out from other couples dancing alongside them, their time together spent observing one another with hard gazes and occasionally the challenging hand squeeze. Sometimes Jimin purposely steps on his toes, to which he knocks one of Jimin’s feet out from under him and catches him before he can fall.
“So, tell me, did you ever actually love me?” Yoongi inquiries from him.
“No. You were a cover, and nothing more. Did you love me?” it’s said with such confidence, that it’s rather convincing.
“You were a cover, nothing more,” he reciprocates.
The teasing shimmer in Jimin’s eyes dissolves into nothing, and soon, the blonde is pulling away and nodding. “I have to go,” he says, and excuses himself towards the staircase. Before Yoongi can tell him that there’s no exit up there, the hallway that Jimin just disappeared into explodes.
That’s Yoongi’s cue to quickly push past other guests who are freaking out, and exit. Once he does, a man comes up to him, much to his annoyance until he finds out why: “I think your jacket is beeping.”
One loud groan and necessary struggling to get his suit jacket off later, the clothing is shoved into a mail deposit box and explodes inside of it. He ignores the other people who scream at the incident that’s just unfolded in front of them, and gets inside his car.
When he gets inside, he sets out for his and Jimin’s house. Just for good measure, he hooks a Bluetooth over his ear in case a call comes through, one that he’s very much expecting.
Which he’s correct to do so, for he’s answering a call no longer than a few seconds later. He gets the first word in. “How many times are you going to try to kill me before it becomes enough?”
“Until my husband is no longer breathing,” Jimin chimes.
Yoongi presses down on the gas pedal a little more, not caring how far over the speed limit he’s going at this point. “Then you’ll be forever unsatisfied, I’m afraid. When I get home, I’m going to destroy every little thing that belongs to you. I’ve fucking had it, doll.”
“Not if I can help it, darling.” Jimin ends their call, and Yoongi sighs in disappointment once he does. He has to do this. If death is going to be his only way out tonight, he has to. Jimin picks up when he calls back. “Haven’t we discussed this situation enough already?” he says snappishly.
“When we first met, what did you think about me?” Yoongi asks quietly.
There’s a long pause before Jimin says anything, but when he does, his answer isn’t much different from what Yoongi had been expecting. “I thought you looked like someone who’d be fun to mess around with for a while,” and honestly, he’s not sure what he was expecting in the first place. Just knows not to keep his hopes up high anymore. “What about me?”
“I thought,” Yoongi tugs at his hair with one hand and swallows down the ball in his throat. “I thought that you were the most stunning person I’d ever laid eyes on. You still are, to this day.”
He can picture Jimin looking out to the road in front of him, staring absentmindedly rather than actually focusing. Figuring out how he should respond to such a confession. “I...I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’ll see you at home, hyung.”
The second phone call ends. Great.
Getting to their street, Yoongi goes to pull into their driveway. Just as he does, another car T-bones him, and when he looks over, he sees Jimin’s hard gaze set on him. Yoongi grits his teeth after Jimin reverses and pulls up to their garage, him quickly following. Except his car doesn’t even have the energy to make it halfway into their driveway anymore.
Angrily, he gets out of his car and slams the door shut. He runs to the front porch and doesn’t find himself too surprised to the front door and windows being locked, so he sneaks behind some of their hedges into the garage and takes a hammer out from where it hangs on a hook. As soon as he gets out, one of the back doors to their house is opening up, and he hides behind a tree before Jimin can spot him.
The sound of a door clicking shut comes not long after, and he runs out from his cover behind the tree. He attempts to do one of those cool spy jump’s that he’s seen people do in movies, where they do a roly poly in mid air, over a tiny garden fence, but all he gets is a sore neck and pricked with a bunch of tiny thorns on the bushes he lands in.
“Ow, shit, okay, never doing that again,” he mumbles to himself.
On the side of their house is a tree stand that goes all the way up to their second floor. He darts for the side of their house and climbs up it without making too much suspecting noises. Once he’s up to a window, he breaks one of the tiny framed squares open and reaches inside to unlock the window.
It feels like a big victory when he gets inside his old office. Where a picture but into the wall is, he presses a hidden button on it and watches the picture slide up, revealing a slot that has important papers and a box inside of it. He pulls out the box and takes the lid off of it, and practically praises himself for deciding to hide a pistol inside of it.
Once the suppressor is placed on the end of the barrel, he walks out of his office and saunters down the hallway, checking each room and every corner. As soon as he gets downstairs, a bang is heard and a bullet goes flying past his head, and through the wall beside him. He races for the other side of the wall and crouches below the hole that the shotgun shell created in it.
“Are you alive, baby?” Jimin asks after a brief moment used to collect breaths.
“It’s hard to keep a guy like me down, honey,” Yoongi fires back, literally, with his pistol aimed at Jimin through the hole. Jimin ducks away from it and while he’s distracted by that, Yoongi stands up and begins walking through the lower floor of their house. Trailing behind him is a reoccurring flow of shotgun shells, putting more holes in the walls.
Quietly, he loops around from the living room into the kitchen. Jimin is surely waiting for him near the entrance of the house, so he makes sure to avoid being seen from there until he knows he can do a surprise attack. Just as he’s sneaking through the kitchen, his elbow knocks one of Jimin’s teapots, and his eyes go wide as he fumbles to catch it. He lets out a breath when he keeps it from hitting the ground, but shuts his eyes in defeat when the lid of it falls off and shatters.
Again, a shotgun shell breaks through the wall in front of him, and he dashes back around the way he came. When he notices a second gun in Jimin’s hold, he’s accepted that the world is pretty much against him at this point. Instead of shotgun shells, he has sub-machine gun bullets being fired at him this time. He pulls open their refrigerator door and hides behind it, seeing all of the dents form in it with each round.
While Jimin’s destroying their kitchen, Yoongi sneaks behind the kitchen island and pulls out the knife drawer, taking out different knives and throwing them in his husband’s direction. “Before I die, I just want to say, your cooking is shit!” Yoongi calls out, cursing when he’s all out of knives.
“Then it’s a good thing you won’t be alive to suffer through it anymore, huh?” Jimin yells back, having retreated when Yoongi began throwing the knives and cleavers.
Yoongi’s just exited the kitchen when he sees it go up in flames. He rounds one of the corners and sees Jimin standing at the doorway, looking defeated rather than like he’s just won his free ticket to another day. Well, he’ll have to fix that, won’t he?
He grabs Jimin by the back of his head, by his hair, and drags him back into one of their side tables. Staggering backwards, eyeing Jimin who’s still bent over the table, and glaring at him like he despises him, Yoongi is less prepared than he should have been for Jimin’s sudden attack. Instantly, he’s being pummeled into a wall with multiple hits to his stomach. In turn, he shoves Jimin back and grabs a plate used for wall decoration to smash over his head.
“Oh, wasn’t that the plate you got from Japan?” Yoongi taunts. “Or was that a lie too?”
“Of course it wasn’t a lie. I loved that plate more than I did you.”
“I thought you didn’t love me at all.”
“I didn’t! Shut up!”
Jimin grunts and kicks Yoongi in the gut, effectively pushing him back into the wall where the ironing board comes out. Somehow, it had managed to come down during the beginning of their brawl, and he topples over it. He picks himself up off of the floor before Jimin can pin him down, and grabs onto the nearing blonde’s shoulders to toss him over their dining table.
For a moment, Jimin seems to be gathering himself while on the floor. Yoongi stands behind him and smirks. “Had enough, doll? Because I could go all day.”
Jimin gets up in the blink of an eye and slams the silver platter used for pot roasts in his face. “You wish, asshole,” he scoffs, then wraps the table cloths around the back of Yoongi’s neck to pull him in and head butt him.
Mildly dazed, Yoongi laughs and grabs at Jimin’s shirt. “Even during all this, you wanna be close to me? Well, come to daddy.”
Jimin head butts him again and sends him crashing into the China cabinet. “Who’s your daddy now, huh?” he smiles back, blowing a kiss to Yoongi before running off into the living room.
Yoongi runs after him even though his head is still spinning, and tackles Jimin before he can reach one of the guns of the floor. It becomes a game of push and pull as Jimin flips them over to plant a few punches to Yoongi’s face, and Yoongi flips them back to grab Jimin by the hair again and slam his head against the floor.
A hand pulls at his tie and brings his face down into Jimin’s neck, and Jimin also wraps his legs around his waist. Yoongi gathers the strength to get up with Jimin still clinging to him like a koala, and rams them into the grandfather clock in the corner, then into a mirror that shatters against Jimin’s back.
When Jimin gains control, he scratches his nails over Yoongi’s cheek and gives a nudge so they fall onto the couch. Once Yoongi’s back is settled against the cushions, Jimin’s fists are reuniting with his face.
Having had enough, Yoongi shoves Jimin off of him and onto the floor. They appear to have the same idea at the same time, due to their quick formation of grabbing the previously abandoned weapons from the floor. Yoongi holds up the shotgun to Jimin’s head, while Jimin has a pistol picked out from in the fireplace aimed at his head.
It’s like time stops when they’re staring at each other through the sights of their weapons. Yoongi is not a weak man, but he’s not as tough as he’s admitted to being. Slowly, he lowers his weapon and eventually lets the barrel aim for the floor.
This way, right now, he can see all of the damage he’s done on Jimin. And Jimin can see what scars he’s inflicted on him as well. The usually fluffy and neatly combed blonde hair is now in a mess sticking up all over the place. There’s a bruise forming on his cheek bone and a few cuts from the plate shards adorning his cheek and nose.
On his own face, he thinks he can feel blood cascading down his cheek from the wounds Jimin’s nails made when chasing their way down his cheek. He’s done with all of it.
“I can’t kill you,” he mutters. “You can go ahead and kill me, I don’t care. I refuse to kill you, though, so just finish it.”
If anything, Jimin looks affronted by this, and waves the pistol in his face. “No! Point that fucking shotgun at me like the sick murderer you are, Yoongi. You can kill me, whether you want to or not. I deserve it.”
There are tears welling up in Jimin’s eyes. Yoongi hadn’t really believed that Jimin only saw him as someone to play all of these years, but sometimes, he made it so believable. Seeing those tears threatening to fall, it makes Yoongi think that, maybe Jimin really is hurting the same way that he is.
“Yeah, I could, but I’m not going to. I love you too much,” he avows.
“I love you too, and I hate it,” Jimin sniffles.
In an instant, Yoongi’s knocking the pistol out of Jimin’s hand and placing both of his hands on each side of his husband’s face to pull him in for a kiss. Eagerly reciprocating, Jimin crosses his wrists behind Yoongi’s neck and jumps up to lock his ankles around his waist.
Everything they’ve just done; the emotions from it convey through their kiss. It’s rough, full of passion, and desire. Jimin’s lips are still plush as they always are, but his are chapped and he discovers a new wound when Jimin bites down on his bottom lip, and pain stings in that area in which it’s cut. This is something he’s been thirsting for in the little amount of time that they’d been apart, for what felt like forever, and now that he has it back, he’ll be damned if he lets go again.
They end up in the very back room of the house, one that only holds a grand piano in the middle with a loveseat to the side. Yoongi gets Jimin pressed up against the front of the piano and begins working on undoing the buttons of Jimin’s dress shirt.
“I lied, you know,” Jimin breathes out, making sure his lips stay pressed against any part of Yoongi at all times, sucking on the spot below his Adam’s apple while the older yanks his shirt off.
“I know. We both did,” Yoongi says, forcing Jimin away from his neck to take off his own shirt. Afterwards, he begins unlatching both of their belts.
“No, I mean, I lied about never loving you, and about hating the fact that I love you. I think I fell in love as soon as I saw you that day in L.A.”
Yoongi looks up from where he’s taking off his own belt, and into Jimin’s doe eyes. They’re staring right back into his, a worried gleam in them, and Yoongi sticks the pad of his thumb between his furrowed eyebrows. “I’m aware. You’re not the best liar in town, sunshine,” he chuckles.
Jimin pouts at him and pushes his hips forward into Yoongi’s, grinding their crotches together. “Fuck you… or actually, fuck me, please,” he begs, hooking his fingers in the hem of Yoongi’s slacks. “I want these off, now.”
“Patience,” Yoongi huffs and pulls away so Jimin’s legs are unhooked from around him. He unbuttons and unzips his pants, kicking off his shoes before sliding them down. When he looks back up to put his attention on Jimin, he sees that the younger already has his pants and panties –fuck– halfway down his thighs, with his hand stroking up and down his hardening cock. “Shit, baby, you’re beautiful.”
“Y-yeah, so are you,” Jimin squeaks once Yoongi’s hands are back on him.
Yoongi pulls the rest of Jimin’s clothes off of him completely, and reaches up to his chest to play with his nipples. He rolls the buds between his fingers, leaning in to kiss Jimin again when he begins shivering at the touches. Their tongues meet while their lips barely touch, and a quiet whine escapes out of Jimin.
“Hyungie, touch me properly.”
Without another word, Yoongi has Jimin turning around so he’s bent over the front of the piano with one leg hitched up on the part that covers the keys. For a moment, he stands back and admires the view of his husband’s flushed skin, pink all the way down to his plush little ass, just begging to have his hands on it.
So he complies, grabbing Jimin’s ass with his hands and spreading his cheeks apart while squeezing the supple flesh in his grasp. Jimin gasps and hunches forward, So only his tiptoes are on the floor, and Yoongi forces him back down. “I’m not gonna lie, a big part of me was turned on knowing that you’re some sort of badass,” Yoongi admits, kissing at the top of Jimin’s spine and slowly making his way further down.
“Oh my god, did you know how many times I had to refrain from getting hard in the middle of the meetings I had after finding out you were the douche interfering with my missions? I couldn’t help but think about all of the times you shot someone without even looking at them. That was always so fucking hot to me.”
A kiss where Jimin’s back dips and the roundness of his ass begins, and Jimin’s rambling soon stops and is replaced with a quiet ‘oh’. Yoongi snickers and spreads Jimin’s cheeks again. “I wonder, did you ever let anyone else fuck your pretty hole on missions?” he gently blows over the ring of muscle, not letting Jimin flinch away from it.
“No, it c-came close at times, but I never slept with anyone else. One time, I fingered myself while this one woman watched me, but I shot her when she got on her hands and knees for me to eat her out. Also, that night of the party when I wore the fishnets, I had to take care of some sick fuck who would’ve gotten off to me in a pretty dress if I didn’t kill him too soon. But, I couldn’t do that to you, to our marriage.”
“Good. Only I can fuck you, okay? Don’t forget that.”
“I won’t, hyung.”
Then he dives in, licking a stripe over Jimin’s hole and feels the blonde shudder underneath his grip. He repeats the action a couple of more times before sucking on his rim, and sticking his tongue inside to open him up for his fingers. It’s the only thing remotely close to lube that they’re going to get in this room, so he slickens Jimin up generously.
He prods his tongue past the swell of muscle, and slowly licks in deep. Once Jimin’s relaxed around his tongue, he moves his head back and dips back in. Above him, Jimin’s hand fumble for purchase against the piano, and one of them soon reaches back and his fingers lock in Yoongi’s hair. Jimin uses the hold as an advantage and pulls and pushes Yoongi’s head back and forth to fuck himself on his tongue.
“It was — it was only a day or so, but I missed t-this so much,” Jimin whimpers, circling his hips on Yoongi’s tongue and crying out when the tip of his tongue grazes his upper walls.
Hands having moved from Jimin’s ass to his hips, Yoongi forces Jimin presses full back on his face and sucks on his rim with his tongue still in him. Jimin cries out again, the arm keeping himself balanced up faltering and letting his torso fall against the top of the piano. “Fuck!” Jimin shouts. “You need to — I need your f-fingers, hyung.”
Yoongi taps his hip and raises his hand up to Jimin’s mouth, still fucking the blonde with his tongue, though not as vigorous as he had been. Jimin takes Yoongi’s wrist in his hand and takes his fingers in his mouth, covering them with his tongue and layering spit over the three digits. “Good boy,” Yoongi murmurs, taking a small breather. His face is covered in his own spit, but even as disgusting as it is, mixed with his own blood and Jimin’s, it’s worth it.
When he thinks they’re good, he removes his fingers from Jimin’s mouth and brings them down to the blonde’s hole. Jimin twists so he’s back to leaning over the front of the piano, and purposely sticks his ass further out, and wiggles it. With a quiet chuckle, Yoongi rubs one finger over his slick rim, and begins to push it in, along with the second one. Jimin can take it, he will take it, and they both know it.
“I can’t believe you’re the one who might just get me fired from my job,” Yoongi brings up, slowly pacing his fingers in and out of Jimin until his inner frustrations get laid out on the table. “I love you, but damn, you’ve made my life a pain in the ass,” his fingers snap inside of Jimin harshly with the last five words he speaks.
Jimin’s breath hitches with the rough movements of Yoongi’s fingers inside of him, and his hands go white from holding onto the piano so hard. “At least your b-boss didn’t threaten to kill the both of u-us.”
Adding the third finger, he holds onto his wrist with his other hand to increase the pressure of his fingers with each drive. Soon, with a nasty squelching sound echoing throughout the room, and Yoongi’s fingers fucking him thoroughly, Jimin has tears of pleasure streaming down his face and puddling up on the piano top.
“Mine probably would if he found out we're married. Hoseok and I both hate him so much."
Jimin sparks up and looks back at Yoongi with a shocked expression, going to speak until his eyes shut and his lips part widely, and his head tips back. Yoongi grins in realization, and keeps his fingers hitting that same spot that renders Jimin speechless and keeps his body held tight.
“Hose—Hoseok?!” Jimin screams when Yoongi doesn’t let up, and has to force himself to grab ahold of Yoongi’s hands to stop him from fingering him any longer, else he’ll come too soon. “Hoseok –terrified of Elmo and Barney Hoseok– is an assassin too?”
Shrugging, Yoongi stands back up and turns Jimin around. “He occasionally kills people, but he mostly stays behind the scenes to make sure nothing’s about to go to shit.”
“Oh, that’s what Taehyung does, and Jin-hyung does the super messy stuff,” Jimin says.
His guess in Jimin’s best friends working with him had been right. There’s another point for Yoongi on his mental scoreboard.
“Huh, nice chat, now suck my dick.” he demands and pokes his tongue in his cheek while he puts a hand on the top of Jimin’s head and forces the younger down onto his knees, which happen to be bruised from their fight.
“A charmer, I love it,” Jimin chirps, sticking his tongue out and toying it in between the slit. A sigh falls past Yoongi’s lips when Jimin envelopes the head with his mouth, and takes him further into the slick warmth. He slides down halfway, and comes back up to hitch his tongue under the head.
“You know it,” he keeps one hand in Jimin’s hair and tangles his fingers in the blonde mess, using his grip to slowly push Jimin further down onto him. Jimin brings his hands up to Yoongi’s thighs and holds on tight, soon gagging at the cock filling up his mouth. “I think you had fun seducing people into their death.”
Jimin looks up at him through his eyelashes, just as he swirls his tongue over a vein on the bottom of his dick and swallows around him. Yoongi stumbles forward a little and used his other hand to brace himself of the piano, keeping himself from falling. “You know that you’re hot as hell, and that alone is enough temptation to make a hungry man blind for what your intentions are for him,” he pushes Jimin’s head forward until his mouth is at the base of his pelvis.
When Jimin gags around him, he grunts and moves his hips back before gently thrusting them back inside his mouth. Now Jimin has his own spit covering his lips and chin, and the rims of his eyes are growing red. “Did you like being a slut, Jimin?” he asks, tilting Jimin’s head up to look him in the eye
Jimin moans and attempts to nod under the hold in his hair and with a dick in his mouth. Snickering because he already knew what Jimin’s answer would be, he moves his hand from the piano and taps Jimin’s cheek. “I’m going to use your mouth, and you’re going to take it, okay?”
Another nod from the younger, and Yoongi proceeds with his ministrations. Devotedly, Jimin takes in the first harsh thrust with no choking or flinching. He just closes his eyes to ease the stinging from the tears while Yoongi repeats what he’d just done. Using his mouth with no regards for the state of his jaw, Yoongi incessantly shoves his cock down Jimin’s throat, motivated by the disgusting gurgling sounds coming out of Jimin because of it.
The fingers on his thighs dig into his skin and hurt so fucking good, and have him driving into Jimin’s mouth harder. Jimin takes him like some sort of champ, and makes sure to close his lips tighter around the head when he’s pulling back. His tongue laps around the tip, and burrows back into his slit.
“You’re so good, baby,” Yoongi gasps out, abruptly pushing Jimin all the way back down on him, the younger nosing at the base of his dick and hollowing his mouth for him at the sudden fill. Warmth pools in his stomach, but he isn’t ready for that yet. As much as he would love to come in Jimin’s mouth and make him swallow it, he wants to save that for another day, one where it doesn’t seem to be them against the world anymore.
Jimin chokes again, and his throat tightens around him again, causing him to pull out of Jimin’s mouth completely. The younger is left to cough and sputter once his mouth is empty, and he goes to wipe his mouth and chin until Yoongi stops him.
“Leave it.” he orders, pulling Jimin up on his shaky legs and turning him around so his front is on the piano again.
“Oh, are you playing rough tonight?” Jimin licks his lips while looking behind him, to watch Yoongi line himself up with his hole. “Hm, I will say, though, I saw some pretty cocks that were much larger than yours. I almost wish that I hadn’t killed them before I got them inside me,” he cries out when Yoongi’s pushing in all of the way without easing in, and buries himself to the hilt. “Shit!”
“Shut the fuck up,” he knows that it’s nothing more than teasing, but a brat needs to be taught their lesson. He grinds into Jimin’s heat, already pressing up against his prostate. “You still came back to me, didn’t you?”
“Uh h-huh. I bet they could have fucked me better, though. Make me feel so full, that I’d feel them for days,” Jimin grins, his expression falling when Yoongi begins thrusting inside of him with jarring force.
“Baby,” Yoongi growls, grabbing a handful of Jimin’s hair and tugging so that his neck bends back. He uses his other hand to pull Jimin’s hips back into his, feeling the way Jimin’s hole is stretched so nicely around him, like it’s been properly used. “watch your mouth.”
“Ah, hyung!” Jimin holds the top of the piano with one hand, and uses the other to cover Yoongi’s hand on his hip. He circles his hips on Yoongi’s cock that hits deep inside of him. His body trembles viciously, pounding upward with each thrust. “Please, please, please.”
“What’re you say please for, huh? I thought sluts didn’t get to use manners,” Jimin’s hole clenches around him and he pounds relentlessly, their hips slamming together creating a whipping sound that echoes in the small room.
Yoongi’s still pretty pissed off about having almost been killed a few times, by his husband of all people. When he thinks about all that’s happened, all of the stupid shit they’ve done, he angrily plants one hand in the middle of Jimin’s back and shoves him flat against the piano, then brings both of them to his shoulders to keep him there. Jimin won’t be getting off that easy.
“Let me ask you t-this: did you really want to kill me each time you a-attempted to?” Yoongi rubs up against Jimin’s prostate again, and the younger shivers and tries pulling away from the force. With a burst of cocky laughter, Yoongi keeps Jimin held back against him.
“At first I did, because I felt so –ah!– betrayed and m-mad, but then it became a g-game for me,” Jimin stutters out between pants, pushing himself back into Yoongi’s cock. “The elevator was— it wasn’t supposed to — shit, um, explode.”
“I’ll admit, I was a bit disappointed when it did.”
He stops moving when Jimin looks back at him with a sympathetic gaze. The younger makes him pull and so he can turn around, then has Yoongi hitch him up so he sits on the piano with his knees bent, feet propped on the edge of it. “I’m sorry,” Jimin mumbles, quietly gasping when Yoongi pushes back in, much more gently this time around.
Shaking his head, Yoongi bottoms out and rests his sweaty forehead on Jimin’s shoulder, and brings one hand up to feel his heartbeat. “You’re forgiven,” he assures, and kisses the skin his mouth hovers over.
Jimin’s arms wrap around his shoulders when he brushes forward in sharp, times thrusts. They move less rapidly and more calmly, wanting the moment to last before they come to terms that they’ll probably die within the next twelve hours. Each little whimper that draws from Jimin’s lips pushes him that much further, and he can feel Jimin getting closer too.
He wraps a hand around Jimin’s flushed cock that’s leaking precome, and spreads it around with his thumb. Jimin bucks up into his hand needingly, and drops back down onto Yoongi’s hips. He can feel Jimin’s breath fanning out against his neck, and his nose softly tickling his jaw, can hear the hushed ‘I love you’s in his ear as he brings Jimin closer to his release.
“I love you, sunshine, I’ll love you to the fucking grave,” Yoongi groans, his last few thrusts turning rough as he empties himself inside of Jimin, filling him up perfectly. Despite the stinging and twitching sensations flooding his body, he keeps going until Jimin comes.
“I — Yoongi!” Jimin sobs as Yoongi presses his nail in against the underside of his cock, setting him off along with the hits against his prostate. He spurts out long strings of come all over their stomachs and Yoongi’s hand.
They slump over each other, and sink to the floor next to the piano. With Jimin on top of him, that leaves the younger to pull off of him on his own account. Come leaks out from Jimin’s hole, down his thighs and onto Yoongi as well, but it goes uncared for.
Once the air is able to fill their lungs again, and the loud sound of their panting dissolves, they turn on their sides and stare at each other in their spent states. Yoongi hopes that this is some sort of pact, or testament, that no matter what is expected of them — in terms of killing one another, that they can’t do it. He’d rather die with one hand holding his husband’s and the other holding a gun to defend the both of them, rather than both hands holding one gun aimed for his husband to save himself alone.
Out of nowhere, Jimin begins laughing, which spurs Yoongi into his own laughter as well. The blonde shuffles closer to Yoongi and plays with the brown locks of hair. “We’re so fucked up, darling,” his words come out interrupted by persistent giggles, but Yoongi understands.
“I wouldn’t put it like that, necessarily. We just know how to have a good time,” Yoongi grins, giddy from the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, and kisses Jimin’s forehead with pressure that has the younger giggling even harder and trying to move away.
“Tell that to our kitchen that I sent up in flames! I’m surprised that the cops haven’t—“
Their doorbell rings mid sentence for Jimin, and the two of them look at each other with widened eyes, laughing hushedly again like little children. Even though he doesn’t want to, Yoongi gets up and tugs his boxers back on for at least some decency, then maneuvers over broken glass, plates, and other pieces of furniture that met their unfortunate doom tonight, to get to the front door.
Minhyuk and his wife, Hyerin, are there when he opens the door. Two policemen stand accompany them, standing behind. “Yoongi-ssi, we heard some loud noises a bit ago, and grew concerned,” Hyerin says, eyebrows furrowed in worry for her neighbours. “Is everything alright?”
“Perfect! Everything is perfect,” Yoongi assures with a grin, opening their door up wider to reveal Jimin covering his lower body with the one blanket that escaped from bloodstains.
“O-oh,” Minhyuk gulps. “We see.”
The two policemen look anything but pleased, probably because they’ve come all this way just to inspect a situation where they seem like a very masochistic couple. In a way, maybe there are, but who needs labels, really?
“Sorry for worrying you both!” Jimin winks at Hyerin, and twinkles his little fingers when he waves at her. As a result, the woman is left smiling, and absolutely flustered by Jimin’s incapability to not try and reduce everyone who he lays eyes on to a speechless mess.
“No, no, don’t be sorry. Carry on!” Hyerin nods, along with Minhyuk. The four of them back down from the porch, Hyerin waving at Jimin and pinning her hair behind her ear shyly.
Without as much as a goodbye, Yoongi slams the door shut and rests his back against it when it clicks. Jimin drops the blanket and stands in front of Yoongi, hooking his fingers in his husband’s boxers and snapping the elastic hem against his skin.
The Jimin looks at him, the same way he looks at him whenever he wants something real bad. It’s a clear reminder of their first morning after. “Round two?”
After Yoongi’s satisfies Jimin’s needs, specifically against their front door, they head to their kitchen. Not before Jimin grabs Yoongi’s white button up that he’d worn before it got discarded by the piano, and clothes himself in the shirt that’s too big for him, and sinks to the middle of his thighs.
If he wasn’t too tired to go again, then, yeah, he’d ravish Jimin and tear him apart while in his shirt.
An entire wall in the kitchen is crisped to black, even the pictures on it. Glass covers most of the floor, and remnants of food and drink are splattered over every inch of surface. Somehow, the windows had survived the great mishaps and keep any cold air from coming through.
Yoongi grabs a broken glass and goes to fill it up with water. When he turns the faucet on, the water happens to spray out from a tiny hole busted into the middle of the faucet, rather than through the actual tap part of it. With a sigh, he fills up his glass that way, even though it’s agonizingly slower. He’s parched, okay? It’s not everyday that he and his beloved try to kill each other, only to fuck each other’s brains out in the end.
Amusedly, he watches Jimin tiptoe over the glass covered floor, easily gliding past any shards and avoiding them breaking the skin of his soles. Most of the ingredients inside their fridge have been shot up or burnt to the point that they’re not edible, so Jimin pots for a chipped jug of orange juice that has tomato sauce and soda splattered all over it. Courtesy of Jimin’s sub-machine gun.
“At least we can load up on vitamin C, if not anything else,” Jimin chirps, grabbing another broken glass from the counter and pouring the juice in it.
Leaning to the side so he can see past Jimin, Yoongi hums in thought. “I think the milk made it too…”
A snort escapes Jimin and he shakes his head at a fondly staring Yoongi. The two of them slowly make their way out of the kitchen and into the neighbouring hallway to crash against the wall and slide down to the floor. They clink their glasses together before taking sips, and having something to clear their dry throats feels indescribably amazing to the both of them.
“Where do we go from here?” Yoongi asks, mostly to himself, but the question is opened out to Jimin as well.
A drawn out sigh, and then. “Well, to begin, I think I should tell you that my side of the family who came to our wedding, I actually have no clue who any of those people were. I hired them because I lost touch with my real one.”
Yoongi’s halfway through a gulp of water when he chokes on it trying to get it down faster. Jimin laughs at the coughing fit he endures through, patting his back roughly to help him get it out. Once the coughing is done, Yoongi grins and holds up a finger. “Me too! I only learnt the name of the ahjumma who played my eomma after the ceremony. My actual family took on the same job that I did, and I didn’t want you being involved with that at the time.”
“Too late,” Jimin giggles, resting his head on Yoongi’s shoulder and demanding the elder massage his head. “I’m balls deep in this line of work.”
“Yeah, that makes the both of us.”
He turns his head to the side and kisses the top of Jimin’s, letting the old domesticated aura loom over them like it used to. There’s no saying how things will be after tonight, maybe the option of children coming into the picture is a no-go at all, but Yoongi’s glad that even if things don’t end up the remotely the same, their marriage can be a truthful one from now on. No more lying to Jimin about his work, vice versa.
“Oh, and that bruise I got from Hoseok’s golf club, that was actually when you shot me in the desert. Luckily, it just hit my vest,” Yoongi informs as a side note kind of thing, like it had been forgotten because it wasn’t all that important to know.
“You deserved it! That scar that I got on my thigh wasn’t from Tae’s dog, it was from me landing on those rocks the stand was built on as an repercussion from the missile you launched. It hurt like a bitch falling onto all of them,” Jimin pipes, hitting at Yoongi’s chest with his empty hand.
Holding back his laughter, Yoongi takes Jimin’s hand from his chest and links their fingers together. He looks down to Jimin’s exposed legs and sees the scar almost faded, but still there. “I still can’t believe my sweet and wonderful husband who’s practically made out of bubbles and squeaky sound effects is really a closeted badass. I’ll never get over it,” he’s not sure how many times he’ll have to say it before he feels like he’s gotten his point across, but he doesn’t mind. As long as it has Jimin smiling bright enough to make his eyes disappear.
“You’re embarrassing, hyung. I’m still sweet and all, I can just pack a punch as well,” Jimin ducks his head shyly, so his face is tucked into Yoongi’s bare chest, littered with both bruises from their fight and from Jimin’s mouth. “Are you a real photographer?”
Yoongi makes a sound of confirmation. “Didn’t lie about that, although it’s mostly a side thing. Was interior designing legit for you, Taehyung, and Jin-hyung?”
“Of course! I couldn’t imagine my side job being anything but interior design,” Jimin says and eventually overlaps one of his legs with Yoongi’s to lay into him some more, their glasses now set on the floor beside them.
“I love you, sunshine.”
“I love you too, hyung.”
Never could Yoongi ever get tired of being close to Jimin. Before their dispute, they’d always ended up curled up against each other with no room between them before going to sleep. While watching movies, Jimin usually planted himself in his lap less than halfway through. And while one of them was bathing, well, it’s pretty clear what that leads to most nights.
But Yoongi adores Jimin, and never gets tired of hugging him like this. They belong to each other, and are practically one being at this point. He believes that he can speak for the both of them when saying that they’re sickeningly smitten and in love with one another.
Thinking about it alone, has Yoongi shutting his eyes in contentment and snuggling Jimin that tiniest bit closer. Just a few more minutes of relaxation, then they’ll try to sort out whatever they have to.
“Before we get too comfy, do you really think my pot roast is shit?”
Freezing up, Yoongi grapes and closes his mouth like a fish out of water. “Uh—“ saved by the smoke bomb that breaks through a nearby window, Yoongi gets out of replying — wait, smoke bomb. “Shit, come on!” Yoongi pulls Jimin out of the hallway and away from the smoke that follows. They duck away from a laser that trails over their heads, and crouch on opposite sides of the front door.
Jimin begins to make hand signs for something Yoongi doesn’t understand, so he furrows his eyebrows and signals for the basement himself. In reciprocated confusion, Jimin mouths ‘what’. They don’t have time to figure out what the other means considering their house is currently being broken into, and Yoongi rushes to Jimin’s side and drags him with him to the basement.
Yoongi shuts the door behind them and takes the steps down two at a time. By the time he hits the floor, Jimin is already digging through the box that has magazines and clips in them, so he goes over to the bag encasing their weapons.
“I think my forty some hours to kill you is up,” Jimin chuckles nervously, packing a magazine into the bottom of his gun.
“Ha, I think so too,” Yoongi smiles in a sarcastic manner, picking out his weapon and joining his husband in aiming it at the door, prepared for the worst.
Obviously, neither are expecting for a tiny Land Rover robot to make its way through the door that had been opened. There’s a tiny ball in one of its metal hands, that drops down the stairs, beginning beeping as soon as it does. They watch it roll down each step, and curve to the right on the ground in front of them. Out of all places, it settles under the inconveniently placed fuel tank.
They take a second before looking at each other, and Jimin makes the first move of taking Yoongi’s hand and darting further back into their basement towards the outside exit. Admittedly, burning to death had never been an ideal way to die out to Yoongi, so he’s a little petrified when it explodes, and he watches the flame advance, ready to swallow them hole.
Jimin shoots the lock, thankfully, and tugs him up the staircase and to their front yard where the upcoming explosion knocks them on their fronts.
Objects and items sound like they’re flying around them, and some things even hit Yoongi on the back, but it’s not until him and Jimin are standing back up to turn around that he sees it. The house, the one they’ve spent six years in, is now half destroyed. Yoongi would like to see Jimin and his team clean this one up.
Even their cars had taken a hurting from the explosion, having been left in the driveway. And Yoongi is fucking freezing outside with nothing but his boxers on. He looks over to Jimin, who must be fueled with so much anger himself that goosebumps don’t seem plausible to him in the first place.
“Motorcycle, Yoongi,” Jimin grins out, staring at their demolished house with pure fire.
Thankfully, Yoongi knows just what he’s talking about.
“I’m sorry I neglected you for so long, baby, but I’m here for you now,” Yoongi yanks the cover off of his motorcycle that’s been stored away in the far corner of their garage for too long. He pets the front wheel and hops on behind the bars, and Jimin hops on behind him.
“I’m your only baby, darling,” Jimin pouts, wrapping his arms around Yoongi’s middle.
“Forgive me, I forgot,” the garage door opens with the click of a button of the soon discarded remote. A man with a gun soon approached them, and Jimin is quickly twisting around and shooting him square in the head, since Yoongi lost his gun in the explosion. “Wait, I’m taking his clothes.”
“Really?” Jimin asks, unimpressed.
“It’s fucking cold, babe,” Yoongi defends himself and strips the guy of everything except his underwear. Luckily enough, his clothes are all black.
“I don’t think it is.”
“You literally boil when you’re angry, of course you aren’t.”
“Oh, right, I do.”
Yoongi shrugs on the leather jacket and seats himself again, and gets them out of their driveway, and out of the neighbourhood.
They’re halfway across the Han River bridge when something catches the both of their eyes in one of the side mirrors. Jimin aggravatedly groans against Yoongi’s back, and if Yoongi wasn’t driving, he’d be banging his head against the front of his bike.
“There’s three cars. Fuck me,” Jimin whines. Two of the cars speed up so they’re on each side of them, while the third one stays behind them. That’s when Jimin takes a chance by shooting at one of them, but the bullet doesn’t penetrate the glass. “They’re bulletproof!” he yells.
Yoongi doesn’t reply with equal amount of frustration, instead having to speed up when both cars begin closing in on them, and the one from behind rides their bumper. He makes it out from between the cars, just barely a step away from becoming human roadkill, and the two cars smash against one another before moving apart again.
When the windows of one of the passenger sides rolls down, Jimin shoots again, directed right at it, but it’s too late as the window gets rolled back up. The bike swerves to the side when the car from behind eventually nudges them, roughly jerking Jimin and Yoongi with it.
“Let me drive!” Jimin calls the shots, but Yoongi doesn’t like it. He voices his protests, and Jimin retorts. “I used to drive motorcycles before I converted into a suburban minivan driver, Yoongi. Now switch with me before you kill us both.”
“Fucking hell, fine,” Yoongi spits out. Jimin reaches around him; hands Yoongi his gun; and grabs ahold of the handlebars, then slings one leg to the other side, and over Yoongi. His other leg moves from the back rest for passenger’s feet, and to the front. As much as Yoongi loves Jimin sitting on him and handling the bike at the same time, he moves himself back to Jimin’s previous seat.
As soon as Yoongi takes a glance behind him, he sees one of the men getting ready to shoot from the top of the sunroof. Yoongi shoots at him, and turns out successful when the man is caught off guard and slumps back down into the car with a bullet hole in his chest. Fucking idiots.
“So, would now be a good time to tell you that I was married before you?” Yoongi asks.
Jimin frowns and momentarily looks back at Yoongi. “What the hell, no?” he growls, speeding up. “Now is not a good time, just shut the fuck up.”
Yoongi laughs until another nudge comes. He jerks forward and glares at the car behind him. A man pops out from the sunroof and Yoongi gnaws his lip in consideration before lifting one foot out. “Stay close, Jimin. I’m about to do something stupid,” he says, and before Jimin can question him, he strays from his seat and hops onto the holding the car.
All he wants to do is reach for the guy’s tie and pull it down towards him so he can send the man reeling down the road, but he accidentally pulls a grenade pin instead, leaving the man to quickly move himself back inside the car. Yoongi jumps back onto the backseat of the bike and struggles to hold on while the bike fishtails due to his sudden force.
“Step on it, now!”
And Jimin does, fast enough that the explosion avoids them. At the end of the bridge, there’s dividers that are spaced widely enough for them to maneuver between on the bike. With two cars still following them, Jimin drives in between two of the dividers and into opposing traffic. The cars break through the barriers and follow them.
“How-how long did you ride bikes for?” Yoongi gulps, watching vehicles swerve out of the way just so they don’t hit them. He opts for looking behind them, instead. Makes him feel less of a need to throw up.
“Long enough,” Jimin replies easily, squeezing between two semi trucks, scaring the fuck out of Yoongi.
Yoongi watches as one of the cars crashes into the back of one of the trucks, undeniably killing whoever’s in it. That leaves one. A deep breath inhales and exhales from him when Jimin finds a break in the lane barrier and moves them back into their proper lane. Unfortunately, the last car finds them again.
A trail follows the car, a leak of some sort at the bottom. When Yoongi gets a clear look, a lightbulb pops on inside his head. “That car, it’s leaking oil. If I shot the source—“
“You’d have to be exact,” Jimin says. “With gas, the fumes are what mainly cause explosions. You can toss a lit up match in a can full of gas and it’ll fizzle out because the liquid overpowers the ignition by gas. Oil is a different story, but it can be done.”
“Yeah,” Yoongi grimaces. As steady as he can, he aims his gun towards the spot underneath the car that the oil leaks from. When he shoots, he grows frustrated at seeing the bullet ricochet off of the very bottom of the car. “Dammit!”
Suddenly, the gun is pulled out of his hand, and Jimin has it aimed where he previously had it. Then he fires, and Yoongi watches the car catch on fire, and come to a quick stop before it explodes. Yoongi looks at Jimin like he’s a god.
The rest of their ride is rather quiet and composed compared to the first part of it. Until Yoongi’s head pops up in realization. “If everything we’ve said to each other has been a lie, doesn’t that mean we’ll basically have to reintroduce ourselves to each other?”
“My birthday is the 13th of October, not the 12th.”
“What the fuck.”
Later, when they get into downtown area, they park the bike in a shady looking part of town and get off. Not many people hang out in the area, but the ones who do eye Jimin in nothing but Yoongi’s shirt and the rain boots that he took from their basement.
They decide split up and meet back at the public telephone when they’re done, Yoongi going to get change, and Jimin going to get clothes. Which, ‘stealing’ would be the proper turn, with how Yoongi ends up dragging an unsuspecting, greasy looking dude into an alleyway and holding up the gun in his face, demanding what money he has. Once he’s gotten what he wants, the man scatters from him.
It’s barely enough for one phone call, but one is all that they need at the moment. When he returns to the phone booth, Jimin leans against it all pretty in a red skirt and black crop top with pixel hearts patterned over it, paired with black boots and matching thigh high socks. And acting as if he most likely hasn’t stolen each piece of clothing from a nearby store, Jimin happily sucks on a lollipop.
“Get the money, baby?” The blonde asks as he approaches.
“You bet. God, you’re hot as hell, you know that?” Yoongi gives something between a sigh and a growl, brushing his fingers through Jimin’s hair and licking at Jimin’s bottom lip.
Jimin tastes like strawberry, delightful. “I think I have an idea of it.”
After the call, Yoongi takes reign of the motorcycle again. Their gun also having been stuffed in a trash can with Yoongi’s old shirt and the boots. They make the six minute drive to a diner that they’re supposed to meet Hoseok in, and enter.
Sitting beside Hoseok is a silver haired man Yoongi’s never seen before, so he’s cautious sliding into the booth beside Jimin. The man holds his hand out for a greeting. “Yoongi-ssi, my name is Namjoon. Nice to meet you.”
Picking up on the name instantly, Yoongi smiles. “You too. I have a lot to thank you for.”
“Another time, yeah?” Hoseok butts in with an apologetic smile. “I’m not sure if you guys have heard, but the two of you currently have bounties on your head, each for over a million won, courtesy of Jimin’s agency and ours. I don’t know what you’re going to do about it, but right now, it looks like you’re both fucked to high heavens at the moment.
“What?” Yoongi frowns. “Our agency is out to kill us too? How did that happen?”
Hoseok sighs. “Jongin happened, that’s what. It’s all sorts of fucked up, trust me. I thought he was an asshole from the start, but this is a whole ‘nother level.”
“Shit,” Yoongi groans.
“I don’t meant to interrupt, but why is he here?” Jimin asks, pointing to Namjoon.
A nervous laugh bubbles out of Hoseok as he looks between the couple. “You two together, that’s a more deadly situation for you guys than if you were to separate. Unless, you were to find something that both agencies want more than you guys dead,” and he gestures to Namjoon. “This is where he comes in.”
"So, you two are quite educated when it comes to Kim Donghae, correct?" Namjoon questions.
There’s a lot of awkward places that Yoongi has to go through to succeed in a mission, but crawling through a sewer pipe has never been one of them.
He crawls on his legs and elbows with a headpiece over his head, a mic and camera attached to it. Jimin guides him and tells him where to go from his spot inside the van they came in.
“For the third time, go left.”
“I can’t. There’s just wall there, genius. I can only go forward, or back the way I came. You sure you got the right map?” Yoongi informs.
They’re at a federal courthouse, trying to gather their possible trade in for a peaceful life that doesn’t involve both of their agencies killing them for money. Their trade in is none other than Donghae, and it only sounds familiar because he’s the guy who both Yoongi and Jimin forgot to take care of because they had been so focused on exterminating each other at the time. Honestly, Yoongi wishes the guy was never born in the first place. Then they wouldn't have had to go through all of that shit and end up here.
“Yes, I do. Ugh, just stay there, then. I need to check the map again,” Jimin says, unaware of the way that Yoongi’s already backtracking from the pipe and climbing up a ladder to exit.
“Honey, I’m going to need you to turn off every single light in this place.”
“Excuse me?” Jimin asks, not entirely surprised when watching Yoongi’s camera and seeing that he’s already gunned down two men in an open hallway, with the sound of more bullets follow. “Alright, okay, I’ve got this!”
“I know you do,” Yoongi chuckles and rounds another corner past the seven men he’s currently shot. A few more steps, and he finds the gold. Well, a door, but the golden sub-objective, nonetheless. He unpins one of the sticky bombs he has, and attaches it to the door. Once he’s quickly retreated behind a wall, he presses down on a button that sets off the bomb. As soon as the door explodes, the lights in the building go off.
“Min Yoongi, you’re an idiot,” Jimin sighs.
Yoongi checks through the doorway of the room and sees that every officer inside is either knocked out or dead. He finds Donghae behind bars, tied to a chair that’s toppled over on its side.
It’s interesting getting the thrashing man into a body bag that’s impossible to suffocate in, but still extremely inconvenient to be stuck inside of. The entire way back to the van, Donghae squirms in his hold, and even attempts to roll out the back of the van.
Eventually, Yoongi gets tired of it, and knocks the man out with his fist.
“Thanks for staying still,” Jimin huffs once Yoongi hops in the passenger’s seat.
“That plan would’ve gotten us nowhere,” Yoongi narrows his eyes at Jimin, who’s expression is no happier looking than his own. “My plan got the job done, didn’t it? In less than ten minutes, actually. I’d say that’s an appreciative feat.”
“Here you are, reminding me of why you’re unreliable literally eighty-five percent of the time. Jesus.”
“What part of me is unreliable, huh? I think it was pretty reliable when I let you hold that gun up to my head while I refused to even shoot at you.”
“It’s not just the jobs, Yoongi! It’s how you don’t even help me put up our Christmas tree, you never helped me with dinner –and surely, if you can complain about my cooking, then you must be good enough to help me–, and you forgot to buy my eomma a birthday present—“
“Oh, yeah, for your fake eomma?” Yoongi snorts.
“I just need someone to be there for me, okay?! That’s all I want!” Jimin snaps. Oh no, there are the tears again. “But what should I have expected, right? This marriage has been nothing but a lie. I don’t know why I’m even that disappointed.”
Yoongi goes to respond, but decides that it may not be the best idea as of now. He just waits out the drive to the motel.
Once they get in their room and have Donghae tied up to yet again another chair, both Yoongi and Jimin sit in front of them. The tension between both assassins has gone away for now, in matter of getting answers concerning their fate.
“We’re both very patient people Donghae-ssi,” Yoongi says, hands clasped as he slouches in his chair. Jimin clears his throat, and he corrects himself. “I am a very patient person, but if we go on like this for the rest of the night, things are not going to look good for you.”
“I don’t see why I’m important to you. It seems like you have problems to sort out between the both of you before trying to get stuff outta me,” Donghae snarls, eyebrow cocked at the two of them. “I heard half of your arguing on the way here, and you guys have some fuckin’ problems—“
Becoming fed up, Jimin gets up and goes over to the nightstand beside the bed and unplugs the phone, using it to slam against Donghae’s face. “We didn’t ask for an opinion, jackass.”
Donghae whines childishly at the pain the phone had brought onto him. “Fine, fine, you psycho. It’s not like I’m a big part in this. You’ll have to reach in my back pocket. The right one.”
Since he’s already there, Jimin goes to the back of the chair and takes a piece of paper out from Donghae’s back pocket. Yoongi sees the few different emotions flicker across his face before an unreadable one settles, and he’s showing the paper to Yoongi. It’s a picture. A picture of the two of them walking together in the street after having eaten lunch, before everything went to hell.
“You were bait?” Jimin asks Donghae, who’s now smirking at the both of them.
Donghae shrugs carelessly. “Both of your bosses came together, and Jongin and Sujoon hired me. They told me that I was going to act as some big threat to both agencies, and that if they set the two of you up to try and get rid of me, it’d only end blown up in both of your faces.”
Yoongi grits his teeth and crunches up the photo, pushing it inside his pocket. He stomps towards Donghae and pushes the motherfucker back so he tips to the floor. “I’m going to fucking tear you into pieces,” he hisses.
“Yoongi, there’s no way we can do it. Our last chance is out the door,” Yoongi hears Jimin’s voice grow shakier with each word, and turns his back on Donghae to a terrified Jimin. “We’ll be dead by tomorrow at the latest. We... we should just face it, it’s the end—“
“No, no, sunshine, come on. We’ll make it, okay? Have you forgotten that we’re a couple of badasses here? I mean, look at what your nails did to me,” Yoongi tries to reassure his husband, pointing at the scars on his cheek that are clean but still fresh. “Every one of them is going down, and we’re getting out of this alive.”
“Eh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that—“ Donghae chimes in.
Jimin grabs a lamp from the desk beside him and throws it at Donghae, who groans in another bout of pain.
“We can only hope at this point, can’t we? But even that seems a little hard to do,” Jimin looks down at his feet, biting his bottom lip to hold back any quivering.
Yoongi takes his husband’s hands in his own and caresses the small span of skin with his thumbs. He opens his mouth to speak again, but Donghae beats him to it. “My ride will be here soon, so if you could hurry it up, that would be really nice.”
“He's got a tracker,” Yoongi scowls. Jimin squeezes Yoongi’s hands in frustration, a never ending emotion for he both of them these days. “We gotta go, come on.”
Time to run, again.
They hide in the sewers while people from their agencies swarm the area searching for them. Even a helicopter is out patrolling for them, it’s insane. Once the coast is clear, they escape and break into the nearest store which happens to be a furniture and hardware supply store. The lug their duffle bags inside and hide behind one of the kitchen counters in the dining set up part of the store.
Thanks to Hoseok, Yoongi has a clothing to change into that works fairer than the sewer clothes he has on now. He pulls out the leather jacket, jeans, boots, and button up, and begins shedding himself of his smelly clothes when he spots Jimin’s attire.
“Are you really wearing a skirt to do this?” he questions incredulously.
Jimin looks up at him with a frown, then to the black skirt in his hands. “Why not? If I’m gonna die, might as well look good while doing it.”
Yoongi shakes his head with a quiet laugh gliding past his lips. They change in front of each other, and Yoongi may or not admire Jimin’s legs in the skirt, and the leg strap he wears that doubles as a gun holster. Jimin makes sure that Yoongi’s body protection is secured, and Yoongi makes sure that Jimin’s is too. They’re nowhere near as efficient as shielding from their agencies, but should still help out a lot regarding wounds. When they’re finished, they walk out of the kitchen area, weapons in hand and ready to fire.
Except, they almost get spotted when Jimin walks out without checking, and Yoongi has to shove him back so the man approaching doesn’t notice. As soon as the guy does come up to them, he’s elbowing the guy in the chin, and Jimin double taps him. They stop the guy from falling, and ease him to the floor so his armor doesn’t clatter on the tile. They hide the guy behind a shelf so others don’t see him unless they check deeply.
Yoongi signals for them to move back out, and Jimin nods. The next hall they stride into, two men are walking down it, but away from them. Quietly, Yoongi puts his pistol in his belt holster and grabs two large wrenches from a shelf. He sneaks up on both of the men, and whacks them upside the head with the wrenches. They drop instantly, which puts a grin on Yoongi’s face.
He stands between the unconscious bodies and does a goofy dance, leaning back and wiggling his extended arms while doing a hushed cheer. When he stands properly and composes himself, Jimin laughs quietly, using his hand to muffle the sound.
Turning serious again, Yoongi pulls out the gun strap from one of the men’s necks and wraps it around his own, while Jimin takes the other guy’s pistols. Great, is what Yoongi thinks when they enter another kitchen scene. This one happens to contain six other people, and the two of them race to hide behind a counter.
Yoongi pulls the gun off from around his neck and holds it, then stands up and gets ready to fire at them. That is, until two knives fly past his head and eliminate the men he had aimed for. He looks back at Jimin and sees that his husband is indeed taking out every single man with a kitchen knife. Amazing.
It’s not amazing when one of the knives lodged itself in his thigh, though. He refrains from shouting, instead resorts to glaring at Jimin who smiles at him as he passes through. Yoongi hisses when he has to pull the knife out. They’re having a big talk, if they make it out alive.
As if the world couldn’t be more against Yoongi (at this point, Yoongi’s sure that everything and everyone hates him, honestly), well, it’s reached its peak. They shuffle through slimly spaced shelving, and when Yoongi twists around to check if anyone is behind them, his gun knocks over an stove cleaner display, tons of little shine containers tumbling to the floor.
Jimin’s eyes widen at him. “Hyung! Be careful!”
“I was! It was my gun!” Yoongi grunts.
No more time to explain for Yoongi, as bullets get fired in their direction left and right. They both mutter curses left and right. There’s too many of them, too many men against them, too many bullets to dodge. It’s by pure luck that they end up in front of an elevator. Yoongi pushes the button after fumbling around to hit it, and they hide behind a shelf that’ll be destroyed to pieces in a second.
The doors open, and the two of them dart inside, firing back at the people who are across from them until the doors shut. Of course, the most annoying elevator music rings out in the elevator, making their one moment alone in all this mess rather awkward. The next floor begins at a hallway. They quickly shoot the men guarding the area, and renew their weapons once more.
“I’ll take care from above?” Jimin suggests.
“I got down below,” Yoongi nods.
They take separate routes, Yoongi entering another room from the front door, eagerly shooting three men that run out from from behind shelves and boxes. Jimin uses a sniper on the barred ceiling above him, carefully moving forward on the slim bars when he needs to.
It’s when Yoongi starts to realize that things may not end up in their favor tonight, when he gets shot in multiple spots across his torso, luckily just snipping his vest. His heart beats faster in a short fit of panic when he witnesses Jimin drop from the ceiling after taking a shot.
On his way to Jimin, he shoots two men dead, and finds his husband hiding behind a dresser, holding his stomach. “Are you okay, baby?” Yoongi asks worriedly.
Jimin nods. “Just winded me. I’m fine.”
But he isn’t, and when they go to stand, Jimin almost falls again, so Yoongi wraps one arm around Jimin’s shoulder for him to hold onto him. It’s aimless running, just needing to find a way out, but there’s bullets hitting their vests and knocking them forward, stealing their breaths until they’re falling inside a wooden shed. A bullet grazes Yoongi’s arm just as he gets inside. Hastily, Jimin slams the door shut.
The footsteps around the shed – there’s multiple sets of them. Who knows how many men are out there, all ready to shoot them whether they’re ready to come out or not. Jimin slumps against the wall of the shed, and Yoongi takes off his jacket to check out the graze. It’s bleeding, but not too terribly.
Yoongi moves back to where Jimin is, and without hesitation, takes his hand. “I know – I know that I really am unreliable. And I’m so sorry for that, sunshine.”
“Yoongi…” Jimin frowns, resting the side of his head against the wall to look at his husband.
The older gets onto his knees and bumps their foreheads together, eyes boring into one another. “I just, I need this, okay,” he whispers. “I need you to trust me tonight. It doesn’t matter if you haven’t trusted me since that day in L.A., if you didn’t trust me before we found out about who we both really were, I just need your trust tonight. Please, sunshine.”
Jimin gulps down the ball forming in his throat. He leans forward and eagerly kisses Yoongi once, twice, thrice – he just gives and gives, and when he’s done, he’s nodding. “You’re not unreliable. I’ve been acting as if you’ve been worse than me this whole time, but we’re the same. I’m sorry for that.”
Then Jimin lifts his free hand up to Yoongi’s jaw, and kisses him one more time. “I trust you, darling. More than I ever have. Do you trust me too?”
Laughing because he can, because he actually feels so fucking happy, like he’s floating on air, Yoongi places a hand over Jimin’s that’s rested on his jaw. “With my life. ‘Til death do us part, right?”
“Yeah. ‘Til death do us part,” Jimin laughs.
Then they stand up and near the door. Either a one way ticket to life, or a one way ticket to death. With a final glance at each other, Yoongi kicks open the door, and the two of them walk out guns blazing.
They stand back to back, shooting at everyone who stands out to them, no doubt destroying everything around them as long as it means another breath. Yoongi has to drag Jimin down to the floor when someone launches an explosive round their way, and shields him from it. Jimin quickly pulls him over to take cover behind a wall of boxes so they can easily take out people standing on the balcony without too many chances of being shot themselves.
Yoongi’s amazed that they’ve made it this far. He looks around at all of the limp bodies surrounding them, and grins, because Jongin and Sujoon can shove it up their asses for thinking they’d go down without a fight. He pokes out from the wall of boxes that’s blown to shreds now, and shoots at the remaining men on the lower floor with Jimin’s help.
It’s a bloodbath. They don’t stop firing rounds until they run out, and that’s when they realize that no one else is shooting back. For a second, the two of them frown at each other, waiting for another herd of men to come in basically as a ‘surprise!’ being thrown in their faces, but it never comes.
Hesitantly, they walk out from the wall of boxes into the middle of the room. Nothing happens. It’s clear.
“Holy shit,” Jimin cackles in disbelief, spinning in slow circles to observe the entire radius of the room. “We’re alive.”
And Yoongi can’t even believe it himself. He shifts his way over to Jimin and pulls him in by his shirt, and kisses him senseless. If he’s allowed to claim the victory, he had better be granted an award for it too.
“I think it’s time to pay Jongin and Sujoon a visit. What do you think, baby?” Yoongi smirks after he’s pulled away.
Grinning, Jimin hums. “I think that’s a great idea.”
“Yoongi was right, this pot roast is shit,” Seokjin scowls as he chews on the disgusting meat. Jimin pouts in shame as he watches the roast get tossed in the trash.
“Hyung, how did you even survive off of Jimin’s cooking all this time?” Taehyung asks in all seriousness, laughing when Jimin’s pout intensifies and the older hits his arm.
Yoongi sits back beside Hoseok and shrugs, a smile of adoration on his features whilst he watches the three – four when Namjoon joins – mess around the grill. Him and Jimin finally got their house fixed up, after renewing their vows to each other and starting off on the right foot this time. They also settled on getting an in-ground pool, hence why they’re having an outdoors lunch in the first place.
Jeongguk sits on a floaty in the pool, soaking up the sun. From afar, Hoseok is blatantly eyeing his boyfriend’s (soon to be husband, but only Yoongi knows) exposed torso and muscled legs. And Namjoon keeps picking on Taehyung for wearing baggy pants to an outdoors occasion.
(“I refuse to accept criticism from someone wearing khakis,” Taehyung huffs.
“It looks like you’ve cut both ends of two pillow cases off and made a pair of pants out of them,” Namjoon snorts.)
“So, everything’s fixed between you and Jimin now?” Hoseok asks.
“Well, we’re still clearing some things up, but yeah. We’ve made our old side jobs our full time ones now, and while it’s less money, it’s still sufficient,” Yoongi replies, waving to his husband when Jimin waves at him from his short distance at the grill.
Eventually, Jimin comes over to him and sits on his lap, making him try a drink of a fruity cocktail he mixed together. “Like it?” Jimin asks.
“Love it, sunshine,” Yoongi drinks over half of it, and Jimin giggles while slowly pulling the glass away from him.
Hoseok smirks at the two of them. “How long do you give it before you’re tired of not being assassins?”
Him and Jimin look at each other, one eyebrow of theirs each quirked.
“Five,” Yoongi insists.
“Six,” Jimin narrows his eyes playfully.
Somewhere in the background, Seokjin ends up yelling at both Taehyung and Namjoon, Jeongguk laughs so hard because of it that he tips over into the pool, and Hoseok sighs and ignores the couple in front of him. A few murmurs of 'not this again' come from Yoongi's best friend, and the two of them snicker to each other when they hear it.
(“It’s going great, and this time I mean it,” Yoongi gleefully admits. “There were times I came close to just,” he emphasizes his point with his hands, and makes a cracking sound. “to him, but I didn’t, because I love him more than that.”
“That’s a big improvement from the last time we spoke!” Heechul chirps, marking off something on his paper. “Anything else that you guys have improved on?”
“Uh, we got our house built up again, and re-furnished. Work has also been picking up. We’ve been more honest with each other lately, which is the biggest thing. We’re both much happier,” Jimin says.
“I’m very proud of you both. You’ve come very far in this past month, wow,” Heechul’s amazement sleeps through his tone. “Now, how often do you—“
“Everyday,” Yoongi blurts. The answer has Jimin snorting impolitely, which makes him hold back a laugh.
“I— I wasn’t going to ask that question again,” Heechul says. looking just as taken aback as he had been the first time they went over this discussion.
“Oh. Well,” Yoongi shrugs, grinning at a giggling Jimin. “an active relationship is a healthy one, I think I read somewhere."
“Ah, they aren't wrong, I suppose?” Heechul checks something off again. “Mr. and Mr. Min, I believe we’re done here. You’ve completed counseling. Congratulations.”
Jimin links their fingers together once they’ve left the building. “I love you, darling.”
“I love you too, sunshine, always will.”
Yes, the road started out bumpy, but if anything, it paved a very stable path for the both of them in their marriage. Yoongi doesn’t feel weight clenching on his heart anymore each time he sees Jimin, because there’s no more lying holding them down. And Jimin’s kisses feel sweeter than ever when they’re laced with a sincere love.
It’s a pretty nice life, Yoongi thinks.)