Yoongi’s bar is at the end of the proverbial universe. People show up at First Love after they’ve had their heart broken for something like the hundredth time, after everything’s been wiped out, after there is nothing, not even hope. First Love is for the ones with too much hope, the hopeless.
Jeongguk had stared at the name and snorted when the neon, glowing letters had gone up. “That’s so lame.”
Yoongi had kicked his legs out from under him and left him lying in the dirt, middle finger sticking out over his shoulder. Jeongguk had whined about Yoongi getting his new boots dirty.
“He’s back,” Jeongguk mutters under his breath, hurrying past Yoongi, two drinks in his hand. Yoongi glances up from his seat, finds the guy Jeongguk’s referring to sitting about six barstools to his left. For a Casscadian, he’s not ugly. There’s a scar running from his mouth down; it disappears down the stiff collar of his tunic. Yoongi always wonders, with that bounty on his head, how that’s the worst he’s gotten away with.
Yoongi doesn’t kick anyone out of his bar. It’s a neutral zone of sorts. Everyone is welcome and there’s no hunting allowed. Most of his customers know better, have heard the rumours. Yoongi doesn’t take kindly to having his rules broken.
He lets his cigarette burn out on the ash tray, eyes meeting the Casscadian’s. They’re a startlingly metal gray, nearly matching the iron horns protruding from his forehead. This one has full lips, a pretty pout if Yoongi were looking, high cheekbones, sun-tanned skin, his hair the same white-blond of his species, but too long. It’s the bars of metal that cast him out. One through the bridge of his nose, three over his brow, another three in his nostrils. Yoongi hasn’t even counted the ones in his ears, sharply pointed near the tips.
Casscadians were strictly against body modifications. They kept their hair neat and cropped short, didn’t have ugly gashes marring their faces. They were a species of order. Yoongi hated the type.
“The usual?” Yoongi asks, sliding off his barstool. The Casscadian nods and places the right amount of credits on the counter. Yoongi sets about making his drink, listens to the rowdy excitement of the bar. They love seeing a Level One.
Yoongi pours Necri Ale into his mixer, followed by precisely five drops of Lirian whiskey and tops it off with his own special concoction. When he pours the drink out, it froths dangerously and Yoongi wonders how it is that Casscadians can handle the poisonous mixture.
“It went up.” Yoongi sets the tumbler down in front of him, meeting his gaze.
“Doesn’t it always?” he answers, smiles, sharp teeth on display. Yoongi’s always hated those.
“How do you plan to hold them off once you step out of my bar this time?”
“I was planning on staying.”
Yoongi quirks an eyebrow up. “This isn’t a boarding house.”
“You’re the one with a penchant for sleeping with dangerous Level One criminals,” he smirks, taking a sip of his drink. Yoongi stares at the ‘X’ burned into his skin on the back of his hand, purses his lips.
“You’ve never even spilled blood. What do you know about being dangerous?” Yoongi wipes at the ring of condensation he’s left behind.
He laughs, at odds with how he always tries to appear tough and in control. It worked, sometimes. He was good at being quiet, at getting lost in his own head. “Spilling blood isn’t always about seeing a guy dead at your feet,” he tuts, tumbler setting back down. “You blow up a warship once, you’re doomed for life.”
“Maybe break into fewer research facilities,” Yoongi mutters, leaning his hip against the counter, arms crossed.
“That’s the fun part,” he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Yoongi doesn’t know everything, no one knows everything, probably not even him.
“You’re a certified genius but all you do is dick around the universe trying to free some fucking endangered species of worm every fucking week,” Yoongi snorts, turning his back on him. The Casscadian just laughs, and Yoongi wonders why his species is so obsessed with being generally miserable.
“Someone has to do it,” he hums, the definite sound of his empty glass being set down hitting Yoongi’s ears. Sometimes Yoongi wonders if he only gets to see him like this because it takes him one drink to get drunk.
“Do it less. You’re troublesome,” Yoongi huffs, goes to make him a second.
“You sure look after me for someone who’s so troublesome.”
“If you haven’t noticed, I take in a lot of stray dogs,” Yoongi snorts, head jerking toward Jeongguk and then at Jimin. “That’s the point.”
“To mother the entire universe’s criminal class?”
“You better watch your mouth, metalface. Do you want your fucking drink or what?”
The Casscadian smiles. “Only if you make it with love.”
“You're lucky I don't spit in every single one.”
“So you spit in some of them?” He says, an eyebrow cocked up.
“Guess you'll never know,” Yoongi smirks, laughs when he scowls, disgusted. “I’m cutting you off after this. I don’t need or want a philosophical lecture about the merits of non-violence as a form of resistance.”
“One of my better lectures,” he hums, takes his drink from Yoongi’s hand, fingers brushing.
“You can stay,” Yoongi mutters, after a pause. He pretends there’s no heat in his cheeks and decidedly looks away from the Casscadian.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve gone soft on me.”
“If you wanna keep that tongue of yours, I’d learn when to open my mouth.”
He tsks, finishes his tumbler. Yoongi can see the subtle curve of his lips upwards. “Of course.”
Yoongi turns away from him, a grim looking guy catching his attention. Before he takes another step toward him, Yoongi looks back, catching the Casscadian’s eye. “Oh, and Namjoon, that’s 500 credits.”
“Room and board.”
Namjoon raises an eyebrow but knows better this time, doesn’t make a smartass comment about it. “Thanks.”
The first time Yoongi had met Namjoon, he’d known him only as The Monster. Yoongi had snorted and asked him for his name, his real name, or he wasn’t serving him. Namjoon had looked surprised but had agreed.
Some days, like today, Yoongi regrets it. Namjoon is a loud snorer, which Yoongi knows, but he’s also heavy and currently half draped over him. Maybe he was going soft, letting criminals sleep in his bed.
He doesn’t need to get up for another two hours, start prepping the bar for another day of customers. Business had only been increasing and Yoongi was thinking about slapping a help wanted sign on the front door for the busier nights. Jimin was saying something about a friend of his needing to make a few extra bucks…
“How are you already awake?” Namjoon mutters from next to him, deep voice rumbling through Yoongi, a pleasant thrum. Yoongi glances over at Namjoon, blunted horns peeking out from his messy bed head. Yoongi should be used to seeing it by now, but it still surprises him, how thick Namjoon’s hair is.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Yoongi answers, unconsciously shifting closer to Namjoon when he pushes himself up to stare at the holographic clock floating next to Yoongi’s bedside. Namjoon runs hot, sometimes suffocatingly so. Yoongi doesn’t even bother with a blanket. He’s not eighteen anymore, doesn’t try to make up excuses for wanting intimacy, for justifying his behaviour. One of the better things about growing up.
Namjoon’s arm curls around him, tucking Yoongi against himself, lips brushing Yoongi’s shoulder, face burying into the curve of his neck. “I’ll sing you a lullaby.”
Yoongi snorts, brushes Namjoon’s white-blond locks, hair a little coarse, dry. “You should use that oil Jimin got you.”
“You think I have time for hair care while running from the law?” Namjoon asks, humouring him.
“You have time to save the universe. Hair care shouldn’t be too hard to squeeze in,” Yoongi mutters, shudders when he feels Namjoon’s teeth sink into the mark he’d already left last night. He probably looks like he’s been recently mauled, as he usually did after a night with Namjoon; he had a penchant for biting Yoongi everywhere he had skin.
“Mmm, I’ll stick it right between hacking into government databases and narrowly escaping the Imperial Guard.” Namjoon sucks against the mark, tongue soothing the sting.
“It’ll make him happy,” Yoongi murmurs, sleepy, lets his hand lie flat on the back of Namjoon’s shoulder, heat sinking into his skin.
“I do like making the kid happy,” Namjoon laughs quietly and Yoongi doesn't feel even a little bad as he yanks on Namjoon’s hair. He hisses, fingers digging into Yoongi’s hip. If he’d pulled any harder, Yoongi knows it’d have been Namjoon’s nails breaking through skin.
“I don't recall you being so mouthy in the morning,” Yoongi mutters, his hold loosening. Namjoon relaxes back down, mollified when Yoongi squeezes the back of his neck, a reassuring gesture.
Namjoon shifts, thigh pressing up against Yoongi’s cock. He’s soft, isn’t even slightly interested for another round after last night, back still aching. “Guess it’s been awhile, huh?”
“Who’s fault is that?” Yoongi huffs, not angry, he couldn’t be. Namjoon’s not a guarantee, he comes and goes and they both decided ages ago, not so much in words, that they were okay with that. But it’d been some three months and Yoongi worries, even if he doesn't say anything. There’s that sinking feeling in his gut, seemingly ebbing into a dark vastness even he doesn’t understand. Yoongi misses.
“I’m sorry,” Namjoon whispers into his skin, his palm rubbing a soothing circle into Yoongi’s skin. Yoongi makes a noise of acceptance, knows he can’t ― wouldn’t expect Namjoon to change who he is for him.
“Don’t take so long next time,” he murmurs, yawning, sore but soft, warm. Namjoon kisses his skin, tender.
“Jeongguk was right, you’re going soft,” Namjoon teases, mouths up the length of Yoongi’s neck, hot breath caressing his skin.
“‘M sleepy.” It’s not much of a defense, but he is. “Shut up.”
Namjoon snorts but doesn't say anything and Yoongi finally drifts off, the easy thrum of Namjoon’s heartbeat against his own like a lullaby.
When Yoongi wakes up again, Namjoon’s not there, and neither is his warmth. He curls in on himself, burrowing into Namjoon’s side of the bed, as if that’ll somehow bring the warmth back. Namjoon’s pulled the blanket up and over him though, and Yoongi’s thankful about that.
A clattering sound from the bathroom tells Yoongi where Namjoon is, head peeking out over his blanket to watch the Casscadian look morosely down at the soap bottle. Yoongi smiles, watches as Namjoon huffs, picking it up. “Are you just going to laugh?”
“I didn’t even make a sound,” Yoongi drawls, still smiling.
“Like I need to hear it to know,” Namjoon says dryly. He manages to put the bottle back without dropping anything else and it’s a feat in and of itself. Yoongi wonders how this is the same guy who can dismantle a sonic torpedo with his eyes closed. He runs a hand through his long hair, ties it back and up into a bun with a hair-tie. Yoongi lets out an appreciative hum.
“Shower?” Namjoon glances over at him, tan skin glowing as he steps into Yoongi’s room, the noontime sunlight cascading over his skin. He’s got an eyebrow cocked up, waiting for Yoongi’s response, but Yoongi’s busy taking in the lines of his body. He's put on weight from the last time Yoongi saw him, and it looks good, makes him look softer. Most people didn’t see past the white blond hair and the horns. Yoongi counts it as a win for himself.
“You gonna carry me to it?” Yoongi asks, bats his lashes on purpose as he watches Namjoon roll his eyes, the way he walks over like he has all the time in the world. They never do.
“I’d be a great princess,” Yoongi says, pushing his blanket off, arms looping around Namjoon’s neck as he lifts Yoongi up and off the bed. Yoongi gives him a kiss for his trouble, grinning at the heat that rises to Namjoon’s cheeks.
“Yeah, you’ve got the bitchy part down pat,” Namjoon agrees, doesn’t even flinch when Yoongi slaps him lightly against the cheek. “Bossy, too.”
Yoongi scowls at him, flicks the metal bar through Namjoon’s nipple hard, Namjoon’s wince well worth it. “Yeah, big guy? You think I’m bossy; ‘cause you sure love it in bed.”
Namjoon only lets Yoongi down when he’s carried Yoongi right into the shower, crowds him right up against the wall, but it’s not until Yoongi’s got a grip on his chin, unforgivingly tight, that he kisses him. Maybe everyone’s right, and Yoongi’s gone soft. Maybe, but he can’t help but melt into Namjoon.
“How’s Jimin’s mum?” Namjoon asks, pushing back into his seat and stretching. Yoongi watches the long lines of his arms, the way the muscle pulls taut, how Namjoon groans, twisting. Yoongi commits it to memory, he has to. That’s how this works.
They’d come downstairs an hour after their shower, Jeongguk and Jimin already prepping for the night’s business. Yoongi had ignored the waggled eyebrows, telling them to get started on drink prep, that he’d take care of the cleaning.
“Better,” Yoongi answers, glances over at Jimin. He’s giving Jeongguk that look again, the one Jeongguk is apparently too oblivious to get. They’re preparing the garnishes for the night, Jimin’s occasional giggles tinkling through the bar like music. “All thanks to you.”
“I didn’t ― ”
“You did,” Yoongi cuts him off. “We wouldn’t have had the money. The bar does good, but it doesn’t do five million credits good.”
Namjoon frowns but seems to accept it and Yoongi ignores how badly he wants to reach over the counter and smooth out the wrinkle between his brows. He sits there, quietly, has his tablet open to some news about the Imperial Guard invading neutral territory. Yoongi doesn’t recognize the alien species, but Namjoon could probably tell him their entire species history.
Yoongi’s faced all of their bottles and given the counter a scrub, gleaming wood a warmer touch than some of the metals other places used. They open in another half hour, and Yoongi’s wondering how long Namjoon's staying this time. From the look on Namjoon’s face, it won’t be long.
Namjoon lets out a puff of laughter, eyes sad. Yoongi’s always thought they were terribly kind. “Today.”
He lets out a noncommittal hum, back turning to Namjoon to start filling up the ice bin. Jeongguk’s wiped all the tables clean, and Jimin’s finishing up stocking the below counter coolers.
“You barely stayed,” Jimin mumbles, voice soft. He doesn’t look up at Namjoon, standing only when he catches the unimpressed look on Yoongi’s face.
“I owe some people some favours,” Namjoon answers, as if that explains anything. Yoongi rolls his eyes but says nothing. He doesn’t really have a right to be angry.
Jeongguk pulls himself up onto the counter, not budging even when Yoongi scowls fiercely at him. “This old man gets really cranky when you’re not around.”
That gets Namjoon to smile, even as Yoongi lets the side of his fist collide with Jeongguk’s back. Not that that’s much of a punishment. Jeongguk’s half metal and it mostly just hurts Yoongi’s hand. “You better watch who you’re calling an old man, you brat.”
“Maybe if you didn’t ― ”
“Okay, okay, relax. I won’t take as long to come visit again.” Namjoon’s just looking at him, like Yoongi’s a fucking mind reader and doesn’t have to swallow down how badly he wants to tell Namjoon to stay. Just one more day. Maybe it’s selfish.
“Promise?” Jimin asks, pinky finger already extended. Namjoon smiles, cheeks dimpling and Yoongi’s gotten pretty good at ignoring the way that makes his belly flip-flop.
“Promise.” Namjoon loops his finger with Jimin’s, smiles even bigger at Jimin’s crinkling eyes, at the open, childish trust in his smile. “You two keep him outta trouble.”
“Of course,” Jimin assures, grinning at Yoongi. Jeongguk spins around on the counter, legs now dangling next to Yoongi’s beer taps. He doesn’t hesitate to smack Jeongguk again, eyebrow raised.
“If you sneak out the back now, you won’t get caught up in anything,” Jeongguk reminds, hopping off the counter. He grabs Jimin’s hand and tugs him away to the back, leaving Yoongi alone with Namjoon again.
“You think he realises how jealous he is?” Namjoon asks, chin resting on his palm as he leans over, watches Jeongguk and Jimin disappear.
“He’s about as perceptive as you,” Yoongi mutters, heading for the front door. “I’ll see you when I see you.”
Namjoon grabs his arm by the wrist, pulling Yoongi toward himself and it’s probably unfair that Casscadians are about twenty times stronger than most other species in the universe. “I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”
“I don’t speak bullshit.” He doesn't want to do this right now, he doesn't really ever want to do this.
“You know what I ― ”
“No, I don’t actually. I don’t have any expectations. Just don’t fucking die out there, that’s it. Now get out.” Yoongi won’t look at him, can’t. This is always the hard part. The goodbyes. He can feel Namjoon’s heartbeat, it’s faster than it should be. He’s guilty, nervous, something. Yoongi feels bad. “Look, this is how it is. We ― we decided on that. It’s fine.”
“I’m sorry,” Namjoon says quietly and Yoongi knows it’s sincere. He finally looks up at him, his eyes glassy and Yoongi smiles, sad.
“Don’t be. Just come back.”
“I will. I promise.”
Yoongi knows something’s wrong a block away.
The streets are emptier than they normally are, the usual bustle hushed down to a few stragglers as they hurry away. Even at noon, the city’s always busy. A group walking past him even mutter Imperial scum under their breath, warning Yoongi. That’s when he sees it, the Imperial Guard cruiser parked in front of his bar. His lips purse, heartbeat picking up.
Reus Terra is a terraform planet, just dirt and sand, and largely uninhabited. It’s in a small solar system, four plants to one F class star, so far out on the edges of the known universe that it may as well be unknown. The Imperial Guard didn’t have much business down in these parts.
The bar door’s been broken clean off, and it makes Yoongi grit his teeth, stepping inside. There’s a squadron of five in the bar, two standing over Jeongguk’s prone form. Jimin’s on his knees, blood dripping down his mouth from his nose, a blaster pointed at his head. His eyes are trained on Jeongguk, panicked but the set of his jaw tells Yoongi he has no plans of giving in.
“You’re on private property.” Yoongi eyes down the leader, telltale crisp white uniform now covered with specks of dirt and blood. He’s wearing the bright red band of squadron leader on his right arm, the rest of his crew in nothing but white.
“Private property?” he sneers. “This is a planet full of criminals, what do you know about owning property?”
“More than you probably do, you genocidal scum,” Yoongi spits back, eyes narrowing. He hasn’t taken a hand off his blaster since entering the bar, knows he’s a better shot than every guard in the room, used to put photons through people’s heads for a living.
The leader clucks his tongue, hands behind his back as he takes a step toward Yoongi. “It’d be wise of you to watch what you say. The Emperor doesn’t take kindly to such slander.”
“You’re not in Imperial territory,” Yoongi reminds him. “I don’t need to take orders.”
The man smiles, a cruel look, eyes darkening. “If you don’t want to end up like that ‘borg of yours, it’ll be in your best interests to obey.”
Yoongi snorts, takes note of the guard shifting to go stand behind him. “Spit it out then.”
“The Monster, where is he?”
“And why the fuck would I know that?”
“He was last seen visiting your bar, where he’s apparently a frequent visitor. Where is he?”
“I don’t keep tabs on my customers.”
“No, certainly not. But you don’t sleep with all of them, either, right?” This time he grins smugly, but Yoongi doesn’t fall for the bait. Like he gives a fuck about who knows.
The leader looks momentarily displeased, before his smile’s back, and he reminds Yoongi of a particularly stupid, arrogant hyena. “Aiding and abetting a Level One is a crime punishable by death.”
“I’m only fucking him. I don’t know, or care, about what else he does.”
“I can have this whole place blasted off the the face of this planet, do you understand? Where the fuck is he?”
“I didn’t install a tracking device into him like your Emperor does with you,” Yoongi tells him, watches the way the man's upper lip curls, furious. “Now get the fuck out of my bar before I blow a hole through your thick skull.”
“You insolent little fucking ― ”
“Ah, ah, ah. Better be careful about what you do. If you think you can come to Reus Terra and wave your little dick around because you’re Imperial Guard, your Emperor’s going to be watching you get blown to pieces before he knows where The Monster is.”
The good thing about Reus Terra, Yoongi had learned, was that they were all united in their hatred for the Imperial Guard. Most people were, let alone the small population of Reus Terra. It didn’t take being a planet of criminals to hate the Emperor.
“Sir, there’s ― there’s quite a crowd outside the bar.” It’s the guy behind Yoongi, who’s still got his blaster pointed on the back of Yoongi’s head.
Yoongi cocks an eyebrow at the leader, stares him down until his jaw clenches, the defeat obvious in the way he looks away from Yoongi, nodding at his guards. They march out of the bar without so much as another word and Yoongi has to resist the urge to kill each and every single one.
“What did they do?” he asks, striding toward Jeongguk immediately. Jimin’s already scrambled over, still bleeding but now with tears in his eyes. He rolls Jeongguk over, cradling his head. “Jimin, what did they ― ”
“Th-they fried his circuits, Yoongi. Just ― He didn’t even try to fight them but they saw he was a cyborg and just shot him,” Jimin sobs, brushing Jeongguk’s hair out of his face. His hands are trembling.
“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Yoongi assures, squeezing Jimin’s hand before checking Jeongguk’s pulse. It’s there, a steady thrum. “He’s gonna be fine.”
Rushing behind the bar, Yoongi grabs the first aid kit. Patching Jimin up would be easy, but he’s going to need this scanner to get a read on what’s wrong with Jeongguk. They’re good at keeping him up to grade, and Yoongi always fusses over his parts, even if Jeongguk doesn’t seem to care much. He’s positive he can get him all fixed up.
He brings the first aid kit to Jimin, kneeling next to him and tipping his chin up. His face is a mess, blood and tears mixing together, dripping down his chin. Yoongi tsks, gingerly wipes away at everything. “Can you breathe?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Jimin answers, the bleeding seems to have stopped.
“It doesn’t look like it’s broken. What’d they do?”
“Punched me,” Jimin mumbles. “I got mad ‘cause they ― ” He looks at Jeongguk’s head in his lap, sniffling. Yoongi pats his cheeks, has him look back up. There’s a cut on his lip that he sprays with medical sealant. The wound closes up immediately, skin and flesh sticking together.
“How bad does it hurt?” Yoongi asks, wiping away at Jimin’s fresh tears, pushing his hair back.
Jimin shakes his head. “‘M fine,” he mumbles, looks back down at Jeongguk.
“I have painkillers,” Yoongi tells him but Jimin’s a good judge of what he can and can’t handle. “Now come on, let’s get Jeongguk upstairs.”
It's not until Yoongi’s scanners have reassured Jimin that the damage to Jeongguk’s circuits is minor that he seems to deflate, entire body sighing in relief as he slumps in the chair he’s pulled up next to Jeongguk. Yoongi wipes the sweat off his own forehead, looking down at Jeongguk’s unconscious form. He’d reprogrammed the fried circuits, replacing the few nerve endings that had taken the most damage.
Jeongguk had been nineteen when Yoongi met him. He’d been sent in to kill an Irkian ― a tentacled species that kept their organs safe through a hard bony shell. Like any species they had weaknesses and Yoongi had read up on them but Irkians were known for their cruelty. Yoongi had witnessed that first hand.
Jeongguk had been tied up in a corner, bleeding, nearly dead. It was rare coming across another human in the universe, but Yoongi was a paid killer, not a sympathizer. Maybe if he hadn’t seen the way the Irkians had treated him, he wouldn’t have hauled his near dead body out of their warehouse, after he’d made his kill.
The only way Yoongi could have saved Jeongguk was to replace the damage through his body with biomechatronic parts. Jeongguk had only thanked him when he’d woken up, and somehow Yoongi’s good deed had led him to his closest and longest friend. The universe wasn’t so lonely anymore.
“He’s just gonna need some rest, kiddo. He’ll be fine,” Yoongi says, ruffling Jimin’s hair. “He’s been through a lot worse.”
“I thought ― I thought they’d killed him.”
“Maybe if he’d been human,” Yoongi hums back. “But it’s gonna take more than a blaster to kill Jeongguk.”
“Yeah,” Jimin smiles, however weakly, reaching out to hold Jeongguk’s hand. “Thank you.”
“Don’t worry about it. Make sure you get some rest, too.” Yoongi leaves Jimin in the room, watches as he pulls his chair closer to the bed, head resting on Jeongguk’s arm as he strokes his face.
Yoongi can’t help but think about Namjoon. Wonders what the fuck he’d done now, if he was okay, safe. He didn’t have any way to contact him but for the Imperial Guard to show up at the bar...something must have happened.
Worry, Yoongi had learned, was nearly as bad as love. It ate you up alive.
“It fucking blew up, I’m tellin’ ya!”
Yoongi’s half paying attention to the conversation, knows that a lot of the information passed from mouth to mouth at the bar couldn’t be relied on. They were drunkards, after all. A lot of them the sort who spent every credit they earned on alcohol.
“Serves them right,” mutters the android on his right. “Fuck the Guard.”
“Motherfuckers were harassing everyone,” the first man grumbles darkly, swallowing down the last of his bourbon.
Yoongi sets someone’s drink down, already moving to make the next one for an Endorian sitting on the other end of the bar. It’d been a week since the Imperial Guard had shown up at First Love and Yoongi had heard about them going around, asking questions. But they hadn’t come back and Yoongi was grateful enough for that. They’d lost two days of business between the damage and Yoongi insisting that Jeongguk rest.
If their ship really had blown up, well, they deserved it. Yoongi had told them they were looking in the wrong place. Reus Terra had nothing but contempt for the Emperor.
“Yoongi,” Jeongguk calls, looks a little frazzled, eyes wide as he hurries over. “You ― uh, the back. There’s someone there.”
“Who?” Yoongi asks, pouring wine into the ready hand of a customer. “I’m a little busy.”
“I got it,” Jeongguk offers, taking the wine from Yoongi. He gives Yoongi a meaningful look, glancing toward the backroom. Yoongi sighs, nodding as he leaves. Who the fuck was wasting his time like this?
Yoongi pushes open the back door entrance, nighttime cool crawling up his skin. He glances around the alley to find it completely empty. What the fuck? Had Jeongguk really just ―
Something moves in the shadows and Yoongi bristles, doesn’t have his blaster on him. “Who’s there?”
“I haven’t been gone that long,” the shadow replies, the hood of their cloak dropping and Yoongi’s met with white-blond hair and grey eyes. His heart stops, breath lodged in the back of his throat and Yoongi doesn’t know if he wants to cry in relief or punch Namjoon in the fucking face.
He does neither. Just finds himself running straight into Namjoon’s arms, the force of it causing him to stumble back. Namjoon burns through his clothes, heat seeping into Yoongi’s cold skin so quickly it feels like he’s been enveloped by the sun.
“You motherfucking piece of shit,” Yoongi exhales, clings onto Namjoon tighter, his feet no longer even on the ground. “What the fuck did you do? What the fuck are you even doing here? The Guard’s looking for you!”
Namjoon’s holding him so tight like he can’t bare to let go either. “It’s fine. Who do you think blew up the cruiser?”
“Wha ― You, are you fucking out of your mind?” Yoongi pushes away, incredulous but Namjoon’s smiling, brushing Yoongi’s hair back, hands cupping his face. “They’ll ― They were already looking for you!”
“Yeah, they’ll have to keep looking.”
“They’ll come back here first, you fucking idiot! Are you sure you’re a genius?”
“I’m sure,” Namjoon smiles, kisses Yoongi chastely, doesn’t let go of Yoongi’s face even after. “I outfitted their network connection into another ship. It’ll just look like they’ve gone rogue. Not following orders. No one’s gonna know they’re scrapmetal.”
“Oh,” Yoongi breathes, all the anxiety leaving him at once, falling forward until his head hits Namjoon’s sturdy chest. Of course Namjoon wouldn’t just blow a ship up. He almost laughs.
“Sorry you guys got caught up in my mess,” Namjoon murmurs, a hand smoothing down Yoongi’s back, his chin resting on top of Yoongi’s head. Relief still floods through Yoongi, his hands fisting into Namjoon’s shirt. “I didn’t think they’d come looking for me here.”
“What the fuck did you even do?”
“I owed someone a favour. The Guard had captured his son, so I broke him out.”
“You’d been gone for a week.” Yoongi thinks he should stop underestimating Namjoon so much.
“They have pretty shitty security,” Namjoon says with a shrug, hand running through Yoongi’s hair. “I was gonna lay low for a month but then I heard about what happened.”
“You blew up a cruiser for me,” Yoongi says slowly, realization dawning on him. Namjoon had...he’d come back just to protect them. He tells himself not to kick Namjoon in the shin, that he can enjoy the idea of someone protecting him and his friends.
“I’d blow up every Imperial cruiser in the galaxy for you.”
“That’s disgusting,” Yoongi mumbles, happy Namjoon can’t see how red his face has gotten. He’s grateful nonetheless, had been itching to make them pay for what they’d done to Jeongguk and Jimin. “And overdramatic.”
“Right, how could I forget. Yoongi Min doesn’t do romance.”
“Yeah, ‘cause you sure fucking do,” Yoongi snorts, fisting the collar of Namjoon’s shirt to bring him down for a kiss, hard and bruising. Namjoon’s hands end up on Yoongi’s waist, pulling him in, grounding him. Yoongi licks into Namjoon’s mouth, tugs on Namjoon’s plush bottom lip as he breaks away.
Namjoon smiles, “I was thinking a month.”
“Are you even capable of staying in one place that long?”
“There’s only one way to find out,” he murmurs, leans down and kisses Yoongi again. He’s definitely getting soft, Yoongi thinks, but it’s well worth it. Namjoon’s worth it.