Chapter Text
Kim Taehyung was having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
If the day was a colour, it would be puce. Admittedly, Taehyung was hazy on exactly what colour puce was, but it sounded nasty and baby diaper contents adjacent.
If the day was a smell, it would be rotten garbage roasting on a BBQ grill marinated in gym socks.
If the day was a sound, it was the panicked rounds of Kim Namjoon apologizing over and over again as he pawed uselessly at Taehyung’s suddenly soggy pants with a paper napkin.
“I’m so sorry; I wasn’t paying attention.” Namjoon’s morning coffee was slowly creeping across the front of Taehyung’s favourite pants and soaking into his briefs.
The napkin Namjoon was using had recently been holding an incomplete breakfast lemon jelly doughnut and was smearing leftover yellow goo across Taehyung’s crotch. It would have been a perfect romantic comedy meet cute cliché if he hadn’t known Namjoon for five years without feeling the least bit of attraction and knew for a fact that Namjoon and their boss had been dating for four.
“Don’t worry about it,” Taehyung sighed. He undid his belt, shimmied out of his pants and strode over to his desk in the corner. Namjoon trailed after him like a lost little bird looking for a regurgitated worm.
“I’ll pay for drycleaning. Or I could take them home and wash them myself-“
“No.” The last time that Namjoon had offered to clean something that his clumsiness had ruined, he had sheepishly returned Taehyung cherished Gucci sweater two sizes too small. At least it looked cute on Yeontan, Taehyung’s dog. “I’ll just wait for them to dry.”
It was just the coffee-scent icing on the trash cake that was being served to Taehyung today. His alarm hadn’t gone off. He woke up to a message from his mother reminding him that he was going to die alone and one from his landlord telling him that he was going to need to find alternative accommodations for a week because they were working on replacing the pipes. His car hadn’t started, and he was now in his underwear in the middle of the office.
“Assignment time!” The clear, ringing voice of their cheerful boss and gentle overlord, Kim Seokjin, gathered all the employees of Hit Points, the protection agency, in the centre of the room in a semi-circle around the whiteboard. Monday mornings were obligatory for all employees as Seokjin proclaimed that “he looked best on Mondays” and that was when the weekly assignments were handed out.
Taehyung had worked odd jobs in security for a few years before he’d decided to work full-time for Seokjin’s company after a very convincing first meeting.
“I have a generous benefits package,” Seokjin had explained enthusiastically during the interview. “We have a very competitive vacation package and an in-house gym.”
“In the office? Just for the employees?” Most of the outfits that Taehyung had worked for were a dimly lit office that smelled overpoweringly of cigarette smoke and disinterest.
“Yes. Namjoon, one of the other employees, made a very compelling PowerPoint at our annual meeting about my exercise and mental health.” Seokjin’s ears were red. “The results have been impressive. With retention, of course. And employer satisfaction.”
Surveying the gym equipment, Taehyung realized that Namjoon must give a hell of a PowerPoint presentation.
Namjoon often made presentations for the rest of the office as Seokjin listened, enraptured. There was “The Importance of Using Vacation Days to Prevent Burnout” and “Social Conditioning to Deescalate Confrontations Without Violence.” Taehyung favourite was “Gender Equity and Tearing Down Stereotypes: Everyone Could Have a Knife.”
“Why on earth are you working as a bodyguard?” Taehyung had finally asked Namjoon after working with him for a few months and being on the receiving end of quite a few hot beverages and words of wisdom. Namjoon knew something about everything. He had opinions about the political situation in Poland. Sometimes Taehyung had trouble telling Poland and Portugal apart.
“Oh, it’s just for some extra money. It’s not my real job.” Namjoon rubbed the back of his neck as he revealed his shameful secret in a low voice so that the rest of the office couldn’t overhear them: “I’m actually a poet.”
Taehyung was sure that Namjoon had plenty of time to compose haikus waiting around for their clients. The job was mostly standing around looking imposing interspersed with high-octane gauntlets through a crushing human maze in an airport. If you didn’t have a problem with elbowing people in the face, it was usually a pretty easy job.
Usually.
It all depended on the client.
That’s why Taehyung was wearing his lucky underwear which were failing him because he was standing in them and a splattered dress shirt in the middle of their office.
“Assignment day!” Seokjin sauntered in and stopped short as he took in Taehyung’s outfit. “Pretty sure there was something about pants in the employee handbook.”
“Pretty sure there isn’t,” Taehyung drawled. “I’ve read it. Twice. Back to front. Nothing explicitly says that I have to wear pants.”
Seokjin blinked, trying to read Taehyung’s expression for a hint of falsehood. Despite acting an exuberant fool most of the time, Seokjin was cannier than most people gave him credit for. There was a sharp brain at work that had helped his company to a meteoric rise in a few short years.
Blinking furiously, Seokjin’s gaze flicked over to Taehyung’s desk where his pants were drying out and then to Namjoon who was humming and avoiding eye contact.
Seokjin shot a look to Taehyung that clearly said: I know that you have never cracked open the employee handbook and are bluffing. But I also know that this is absolutely Namjoon’s fault, and that man is blazing hot and I forgive him for everything.
Taehyung held eye contact and replied with: Hope that your relationship comes with danger pay because that man is a clumsy menace, but we can all save face here if you just focus on your job and not my luscious ankles.
Seokjin sniffed in a way that he disagreed with the degree of Taehyung’s ankles’ lusciousness but was willing to deal with mild work inappropriateness to avoiding further delays due to Namjoon’s continued public apologies.
“Anyhow, this assignment day we are going to draw straws.”
Seokjin was nothing if a fair and benevolent despot. He didn’t play favourites – even with his boyfriend. He insisted on fair and square assignments based on whatever arbitrary game he cooked up over the weekend.
Last week, he’d rented a basketball arcade game, and the longest unbroken streak was allowed to choose their client from the whiteboard first.
“The most holes in ones gets the best clients!” Seokjin had announced as he set up a mini golf course stretched down the hallways.
Dart day had been memorable.
“It’s a bit boring but we’re a on a tight deadline for a few of our clients. We’ve got some repeat customers in the mix and a few… new faces. But all choice assignments.”
Seokjin was dancing around the fact that Taehyung would throw all his colleagues under the nearest city bus to avoid being last. His coworkers would do the same. Respectfully and in full compliance with the employee handbook.
On the whiteboard, in a very particular order, were their clients. At the top were Seokjin’s favourites: Park Jimin and Jung Hoseok.
Taehyung didn’t always agree with Seokjin’s taste in hats, but he was perfectly in agreement with his favourites. Park Jimin was Taehyung’s favourite client, and Taehyung had repeatedly declined a private contract only because he was loyal to Seokjin and enjoyed the slow dyeing of all his clothes to a caffeinated brown by Namjoon.
“You could work and travel with me all the time.” Jimin had jutted out his plush lower lip and stared up at Taehyung with siren eyes that had sunk and launched a thousand internet ships. “We could have a lot of fun together.”
“Dial the sexy back,” Taehyung cautioned. “It has no affect on me, which you know, and you’ll throw your neck out again aegyo-ing that hard.”
In another life, Jimin would have been his best friend. In another life where Taehyung’s life had taken a different turn, he and Jimin would have torn across Seoul together. Taehyung was thankful for all the time that they had together – he was one of the few clients that Taehyung had ever given his private number to.
When Jimin had time between his schedules, they would order food and watch videos together. Despite his very public persona, Jimin was a private person and hated the media circus that came from being an idol. He’d had a few run ins with deranged fans that had left him feeling vulnerable in public. Taehyung was happy to hang out with him at home.
But the fact of the matter was that Jimin was paying him for his services during the week. When he was on duty, Taehyung was being paid to put his life on the line for Jimin’s. He was a human shield for all the roughness of other people’s obsessions.
Still, Jimin was always at the top of Taehyung’s list.
Jung Hoseok was a close second. Taehyung wasn’t close with Jung Hoseok in the same way that he was casual with Jimin, but he adored the conscientious, thoughtful rapper. He was always unfailingly polite and attentive to everyone around him. Hoseok often spotted a threat before Taehyung did and was quick to follow instructions or advice.
There were people that Taehyung worked with that made the job easy.
And then there was Jeon Jungkook.
“A total nightmare.” Namjoon had done the first job with him, shadowing him as he attended an awards ceremony. Jungkook was apparently god’s gift to the music industry, South Korea, the world, womenkind, and every liquor store owner in a 5 km radius. “He puked on… Everything. Everything. The car, my phone, his phone, himself, me.”
They had their fair share of inebriated clients. But most of them had the decency to vomit in their Hannam hill apartments and not on the help.
“Then he forced me to swap shirts with him and told me that my nipples were ‘weak.’ How can nipples be weak?”
Seokjin sucked in a breath. The three of them were alone in the office as Taehyung and Seokjin had stayed up waiting for Namjoon to return from the job. “Don’t listen to him baby. He doesn’t know anything. Your nipples are very strong and manly.”
“Then he puked on my shirt and threw it at my head. My head! There were chunks of salmon in my hair.” Namjoon’s hair was damp from the shower that he’d taken as soon as he stomped into the office.
Taehyung had more questions. “Where are your shoes?”
“Where do you think?” Namjoon wiggles his toes. “He made me take them off on the drive home and then threw them out the window. He apparently ‘couldn’t be seen that near to off the rack shoes.’”
Seokjin rubbed Namjoon’s shoulder. “I’ll call his manager.”
But things didn’t get better.
He’d stolen Kang’s phone and sent dick picks to his mother.
“She was so upset that she dropped her phone on the sidewalk and now I have to buy two new phones.” Kang was curled in the fetal position on the office couch.
“I’ll call his manager.”
“I had to protect his fans from him. I was pretty sure he was going to punch some middle schooler who asked for a picture.”
“I’ll call his manager.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s masturbating in the back seat,” Do-yun sighed after his brush with the idol. “He made me roll up the divider window but I… heard things. I’m pretty sure we have to get the car detailed. And get ready to tip. Heavily.”
“I’ll call his manager.”
Jungkook’s manager seemed to be as able to control his client as his bodyguards were. Jungkook was a spoiled asshole. Taehyung heard through the grapevine that he’d been blacklisted from most agencies.
But he paid very well. And his manager was smart enough to provide a bonus to everyone to keep their mouths shut.
There was no way that Taehyung was going to lose today. He needed something nice.
Seokjin looked gloriously pleased with himself as he clutched five straws in his hand and held them up.
“Okay, longest straw choses first. Shortest straw goes last and gets Jungkook. I mean… whoever is left.”
The rest of the team groaned except for Namjoon who was too professional to express an opinion about any of their clients.
“This is his last chance,” Seokjin explained to an office full of gloomy faces. “If he steps a toe out of line, we’ll let him go but his manager has assured me that he’s turned over a new leaf.”
Jungkook didn’t have leaves: he was a sharp pine tree. No matter what the season, he was still a prick.
Taehyung needed his angels on his side.
“Thank god.” Namjoon pulled first. His straw was as long as a green onion and he immediately walked over to the board and wrote his name next to Jimin’s.
Damn.
Juwon then pulled another long straw and took Hoseok. That was fine. There was a CEO and another B-list actor with aspirations.
And Jungkook.
Minjun took the CEO and left Taehyung alone with Yujun.
“I’m sorry,” Yujun said. “But I can’t. Last time he tried to ride two horses at the same time. I can’t. I’m getting too old for this.”
“You’re younger than me.”
Taehyung whispered a sweet plea to his angels and then picked with his eyes closed. He needed this. He had been so lucky so far.
Yujun’s whoop of joy brought Taehyung’s world crashing down around his ears.
“Bad luck.” Yujun slapped Taehyung’s shoulder in consolation. “I heard he bites.”