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Taehyung knows he looks good in a suit.
Everyone else knows Taehyung looks good in a suit.
Min Yoongi knows that Taehyung looks good in a suit. Even if he is bitching in Taehyung’s ear. Taehyung can read between the lines.
“Stop walking around like that. You look like an idiot.”
“I look wonderful.”
“When I said ‘blend in’ I didn’t mean ‘wear a red and white monstrosity and a fucking scarf.’”
“Well, you should have clarified.” He’s not wearing a scarf. It’s a white frilly whatever. He doesn’t bother correcting Yoongi because he doesn’t remember what it’s called either. But he looks good in it. So.
Beaming, Taehyung picks up a glass of wine from one of the waiters’ trays. He doesn’t care what it is.
“V, you are literally on a mission. Don’t drink, what the hell is wrong with you.”
With a sigh, Taehyung places the glass back on the tray and walks away. “You’re so lame, Suga-hyung.”
“I will kill you myself.”
“I’ve heard that before.” Taehyung is still smiling, but his eyes are sharp as he scans the room. “Talk to me.”
Outside of the building, Yoongi rolls his eyes and looks at the monitors in front of him. He watches Taehyung weave through the room, tall and vibrant and exactly everything wouldn’t expect an agent to be. Sometimes it’s helpful, but it’s mostly just annoying. “You’re in the ballroom right now. You need to get into the wing with all the bedrooms. The target has been staying here.”
“Will the files be on him?” Taehyung makes eyes at a woman giving him a full-body once over. “She likes the suit.”
“She has bad taste,” Yoongi says flatly. “And no. Hope apprehended the target earlier today. Nothing on him. He’s being uncooperative.”
“Oh, nice one, Hobi-hyung.” He’s found a wall to lean against. The room is big and extravagant. Despite Yoongi’s whining, Taehyung fits right in with the general splendor. Tuxes are for the unimaginative, these days. Not for people with money to burn.
Taehyung doesn’t have money to burn, but he does have a suit and an excuse to wear it, so he isn’t much different than anyone else here.
Sure, his reason is a little more confidential than just showing off, but only just.
No one wants to admit to showing off, either.
Taehyung scans the room for exits, entrances, threats. This mission isn’t extremely life-or-death, merely a matter of stolen blueprints for something Taehyung isn’t cleared to know. Now that Hope nabbed the target, it’s just a matter of Taehyung getting into the living quarters and grabbing the plans, maybe taking some hors d’oeuvres for the road. Those little quiches were really good. “Any idea how I’m getting into the bedrooms?”
“I have the code to get into his room,” Yoongi mumbles. Taehyung hears him rifling through the many papers on his desk. “But the actual door into that wing is locked and secure. Requires a code and a fingerprint. So you’ll have to get those from someone.”
“Or.” Taehyung scans the room again for a different reason. “I could get someone to let me in.”
“V—”
“Oh no, however will I convince someone to let me into their bedroom?” Taehyung says gleefully. His eyes find the perfect person. “White suit, thoughts? How easy do you think it would be to get him up for a quickie?”
Yoongi’s do not have sex with that man is blocked out by the sounds of Hoseok getting closer to the monitor. “The one with the cheeks and the jawline?”
“Right, by the table.”
Hoseok hums appreciatively. “With an ass like that, he’s probably up for it.”
“Ass is all genetics, it has nothing to do with how willing he is to hookup,” says Yoongi scathingly.
“Okay, but this guy looks at himself in the mirror everyday. Even he has to know it would be a waste not to use it.”
“Look at me go,” Taehyung sings happily into his mic, making his way over and completely ignoring Yoongi’s bickering.
Taehyung hopes he’s picked well. The man standing around, casually watching the party, looking resplendent in his black shirt and white suit, is extremely promising. His face is somehow sharp and soft, with good cheekbones and a defined jaw. He looks young, even dressed up with his hair slicked back, but his lips are made to be defiled.
It’s exciting.
“Hello,” he says amicably, leaning his hip against the table. He doesn’t even bother with the food. It’s very clear the real reason he’s walked over there. He gives the stranger a very clear once over. “That’s a very nice suit suit you have on.”
“What kind of pickup line…Tae, I trained you better than that!” Hoseok chastises.
Taehyung ignores.
The stranger doesn’t seem off-put at all. He smiles a little, closed mouth and crinkled eyes, and Taehyung doesn’t exactly swoon but his knees get a little wobbly. “It’s a little boring compared to yours.” His hands are small and chubby, cute, but when he hooks a finger under the lapel of Taehyung’s suit and runs it up his chest, cute isn’t the first word on Taehyung’s mind. He places his hand right in the middle of Taehyung’s chest, maintaining very strong eye contact. “Not entirely sure about the cravat, though. It seems a little excessive.” He’s smirking. God damn, he’s smirking.
“Cravat,” Taehyung whispers. That’s the word.
“Hmm?” The stranger lifts an eyebrow.
“Nothing.” Taehyung smiles, the way he knows is boxy and charming. “I’m V.”
“V,” the stranger repeats. He doesn’t make a move to shake his hand like polite company would. He doesn’t even remove his hand from Taehyung’s chest. In fact, he brings his hand down, just slightly, beneath the cravat, so the only thing between his hand and Taehyung’s skin is his dress shirt. “Unusual. Only one name. Perhaps you’re famous?”
“Perhaps,” Taehyung’s smile widens into a grin. “But at least I gave a name. I’m still waiting for the favor to be returned.”
“Are you.” The stranger grins in return and it’s like the sun’s come up early. Can he even see? His eyes are nearly shut. “Park Jimin.” The sun settles down into something darker, like sunset, and Taehyung blinks a little to clear away his blindness.
Park Jimin. The son of some big shot tech company. The one whose blueprints were stolen. His name was definitely on the list of people staying in the building.
Taehyung has definitely picked well.
All in all, Hoseok was right. Jimin is up for it.
All it takes on Taehyung’s part is a few compliments and a smile or two. In actuality, it’s Jimin that does most of the leading. The slight touches, almost ticklish, quickly turn not-so-slight. There’s more pressure. They start to linger. The look in his eyes proves that Jimin knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s knows. He’s done this before.
Taehyung is happy. It can be irritating trying to train one otherwise.
It’s Jimin who asks if Taehyung wants to go somewhere more private. It’s Jimin who takes Taehyung’s hand and pulls him to the living quarters. It’s far away from the ballroom. He presses his thumb on the pad even as Taehyung latches his lips onto his neck. Taehyung keeps one eye open as Jimin types in the code, in case he needs it later, but Jimin’s other arm in blocking his view.
The doors open, and Jimin laughs. It’s breathy. Loud in the silence. Taehyung can feel it under his lips. “Wait. Someone might see.”
“Do you care?” Taehyung doesn’t mind pausing. Jimin is much shorter than he is, and it’s cute, but makes hunching down to reach his neck a little uncomfortable. But he still nibbles on Jimin’s ear before releasing him.
“Less than I should, but exhibitionism is someone else's kink.” Jimin keeps a hold on Taehyung anyway, leading his surely down the corridor until he slinks into his bedroom.
Taehyung fully anticipates shoving Jimin against the door and proceeding to make him feel very good, thank you, but it’s Jimin who puts himself against the door and pulls Taehyung down, down, down, small fingers tangled in the stupid silk of his frilly white whatever.
Park Jimin doesn’t mess around. He doesn’t taste like alcohol, but he’s sloppy like a drunkard, only better. Just the way Taehyung likes it. His lips are full, slick, already swollen from where he’s been nibbling on them all night. Taehyung wants to nibble, too.
So he does.
Jimin’s mouth opens immediately, his gasp delicious, and Taehyung swallows it greedily down, down, down, licking his lips, licking Jimin’s lips, licking into his mouth. Jimin whines, pulling Taehyung down even further and flinging his arms over Taehyung’s neck, one hand fisting in his hair.
Their chests are pressed together, but Jimin is still too far away. When Taehyung scoots closer, Jimin’s legs naturally open. The taller man slips his thigh between Jimin’s, and Jimin returns the favor by grinding down without hesitation. It’s a good reminder that he’s enjoying this just as much as Taehyung is. His hands slide down to cup Jimin’s ass, pulling him up on his thigh, almost manually forcing the friction.
Jimin moans again, which makes Taehyung moan, fingers kneading, and he can feel Jimin’s dick twitch against him. He can feel small, strong fingers pulling in his hair. It’s almost too much.
It’s perfect.
God, Park Jimin is perfect.
It’s Jimin who pulls away first. His face is flushed, hair slightly out of place. Taehyung can only imagine what he looks like right now. “You’re going to ruin my suit,” he says. He leans his head back on the wood of the door. The hand on the back of Taehyung’s head presses forward, leading him towards Jimin’s waiting neck, and Taehyung can’t say no. Doesn’t want to say no.
His jugular is prominent, his veins are prominent. Taehyung can feel Jimin’s rapid fire heartbeat under his sensitive lips. He bites down lightly, right at the pulse. The breath goes out of Jimin’s chest, and Taehyung is maybe a little too smug. “I guess we’ll just have to take it off.” His mouth trails kisses up, up, up, taking Jimin’s earlobe between his teeth, tongue moving over piercings as his hands move down, down, down.
He regrets letting go of Jimin’s ass, but somethings have to be done.
The jacket is the first thing to go. Two rows of buttons, taken care of in a matter of seconds beneath Taehyung’s attentive hands. On the floor. Nimble fingers undo his belt buckle, which is particularly impressive because Jimin has not stopped rutting against Taehyung’s thigh since he’s discovered the smaller man’s love of teeth. He purposefully dips his fingers under the waistband of Jimin’s briefs, just enough to feel coarse hair. Blunt nails scratch unblemished skin. Jimin’s entire body shakes.
Black shirt untucked, more buttons undone. Taehyung brushes his fingers teasingly over the taut skin of Jimin’s stomach. It’s a nice stomach, not too soft and not too hard, and Jimin might be a little ticklish from the way his muscles contract under Taehyung’s touch. Jimin’s hands drop from his hair to his neck and start undoing the cravat.
Then.
Everything stops.
Jimin freezes, jerking to a halt, and Taehyung gives him a little distance immediately. Did he do something wrong? The question gets stuck in his throat at the look on Jimin’s face, because he’s not even looking at Taehyung.
He’s looking towards the window.
The whites of Jimin’s eyes are clearly visible in the pseudo-darkness, and Taehyung slowly turns his head. The haze is quickly clearly, and Taehyung kicks himself for not being able to sense the new presence in the room.
“Hello,” says a cheerful voice.
There’s a gun in Taehyung’s face and he really doesn’t like it.
“Sorry, we’re not into roleplaying or voyeurism.” He keeps his voice light, mostly for Jimin, but this isn’t roleplaying and the gun is definitely real. Taehyung can almost feel it’s weight in his own hand.
“Separate, if you don’t mind.” The stranger is wearing a mask over the bottom half of his face, but the top of his face is average. Completely. But his eyes are like steel.
Taehyung doesn’t want to leave Jimin feeling vulnerable, but there isn’t much he can do until he’s given an opening. He steps aside.
Jimin sinks down a little against the door, hair mussed, lips red, shirt open and zipper down. He seems to be alternating between holding his breath and panting heavily. He’s unsure, eyes not moving from the barrel of the gun even once.
He’s seen one before, probably, but it’s a lot different when it’s pointing at you.
It’s good that he doesn’t look at the man, though. The lecherous look on his face makes Taehyung’s toes curl. The quiche in his stomach practically curdles.
Yoongi is silent in his ear. He must have muted the mic while he and Jimin were going at it.
Perfect.
He’s alone.
He’s gotta get this guys attention back on him and away from Jimin, who looks about two wrong steps away from a panic attack. “What do you want?”
“I already got what I want.” The man holds up some documents in his free hands. The blueprints. Why were they in here? Taehyung doesn’t have time to think about it, watching with pointed eyes as the man slips the papers into the inside pocket of his jacket. “The two of you just happened to arrive at the wrong time. Can’t say I’m complaining, though.” He looks at Jimin again, smirking, gun lowering ever so slightly, and Taehyung jumps.
It’s not his best attempt at hand-to-hand. He’s not exactly in the best state for this. But he pushes the gun aside just in time for the man to shoot a mattress. He digs his fingernails into the sensitive skin around the man’s wrist, gripping on for dear life, and hooking his free hand into his jaw. It’s not a clean hit, but it’s going to hurt in the morning, and Taehyung is once again thankful for being ambidextrous.
The punch surprises the stranger just enough for his to loosen his grip on the gun, so Taehyung twists, prying the weapon from strong fingers.
Unfortunately, the man is bigger, stronger, simply picks Taehyung up and throws him down before Taehyung can properly use the weapon that slips out of his fingers. What a waste.
Taehyung sits up just as the man is coming forward, ramming his head as hard as he can into the guy’s dick before digging his fingers into belt loops and pulling his pants down in one swift motion.
The boxer briefs stay on, luckily enough, but they’re an unfortunately pattern and way too close to Taehyung’s head. “That’s for being a cock block.”
Jimin gives a strangled laugh in the corner.
Taehyung reaches for his own gun, barely aims, gets one shot into the man’s shoulder before he stops wrestling with pants and socks Taehyung hard in the stomach. Jimin screams a little at the blood, but Taehyung honestly has other things to worry about.
Like death.
Taehyung tosses the gun away before the stranger can get his hands on it, but that doesn’t stop the man from pulling him back up by his neck. Taehyung slams his head back, hard, and feels the crunch of a broken nose against his skull.
No one wins in a head butt.
Taehyung can feel blood in his hair. That’s going to be a bitch to get out later, provided he doesn’t die first. His suit is ruined.
Yoongi will be happy about that, at least.
There’s a muffled, wet sounding curse before Taehyung feels the barrel of a gun pressed against his temple and a strong arm against his windpipe. He struggles a little, but the gun just presses more aggressively. “Who do you work for?” the man growls in his ear.
“No one.” The man’s breath feels slimy against his ear.
“Who?”
“Will you return the favor?” Taehyung grunts, the arm across his throat constricting just a little too tight.
“Oh well.” Taehyung can feel the man shrug. “It’s been a pleasure.”
“Stop.”
Taehyung’s eyes jerk to Jimin, and the stranger’s do too, from the way his entire body jolts against Taehyung’s back.
His pants are buttoned again and his hair is pushed back, but his shirt is buttoned haphazardly and he’s got Taehyung’s gun in his hands. He looks wild.
Not wild enough.
If Jimin was two steps away from a panic attack earlier, he’s toeing the edge now. His eyes still aren’t sure, and the weapon is shaking in his hands, like it’s too heavy. Maybe it is.
He’s not going to shoot.
“Why are you doing this?” Jimin tries, but his words come out in a strangled sob, and Taehyung’s heart aches. This is wrong. He got Jimin into this. Jimin with a gun is wrong.
“It’s my job, kid,” the man says gruffly. “These blueprints aren’t going to do a lot of good in your daddy’s hands.”
“I’m not a kid!” Jimin says, almost whines, chest heaving and eyes weak.
He is a kid. They both know it. Even Jimin knows it. His hands can’t stop shaking, he can’t even keep the barrel of the gun in line. His eyes keep darting around, down to Taehyung and back up again, and Taehyung vaguely wishes that his last mission didn’t end up this way. There are worst ways to die than a gun to the head, but that doesn’t mean he has to be happy about it.
“Sure, kid.” It’s a sneer. Ugly. Taehyung can hear it. Maybe he won’t die by gun. The arm around his neck is too tight, far too tight, and there are black spots in his vision.
Asphyxiation is a little less boring but no less unfortunate.
“You need more than just a gun to kill a person,” the stranger laughs, and Taehyung hates it but he agrees. “You’ve got to be hard, strong. Everyone here knows you’re weak. All you’ve got is a gun and no guts.”
Taehyung sees it first, but he still doesn’t understand it. Jimin’s eyes sharpen. His posture straightens. His hand steadies. There’s a loud sound, and it’s Jimin laughing, and then it’s the bang of the gun, and then it’s the thump of body after it goes down, down, down. Down to the floor.
And all Taehyung can think about is how Park Jimin is perfect.
God, Park Jimin is perfect.
Jimin walks over, cool as a cucumber, while Taehyung twists around to inspect the body behind him. Clean headshot, blood already seeping on to the expensive hotel carpet. “This is a nice gun,” Jimin notes, handing it back. “Try not to lose it next time, yeah?”
Those small fingers that were curled up in Taehyung's hair minutes ago pull the mask off of the stranger’s face, his other hand digging a bent picture out of his pants pocket. The faces match. jimin lets out a relieved breath. “Good. I’d have hated to kill the wrong one. He kind of had it coming, though.”
Taehyung is still in shock.
“You know,” Jimin says, determined to make small talk. He crouches down, rifling through the man’s jacket and pulling out the blueprints, and Taehyung mentally braces himself for having to fight Jimin over them before Jimin holds them up to him. “Someone upstairs really should have planned this better.”
Jimin is a spy from another company.
Sure.
Makes sense.
Taehyung’s always liked the cute, secretly-deadly type.
“Who do you work for?” Jimin continues going through pockets.
“RM,” Taehyung says, unsure.
“Ah, I work for Jin,” he says, straightening up. “They probably planned this together.” He sighs. “Jungkookie, I finished. Clean up the room when we leave, okay?” he practically sings, pushing his mic further into his ear. How did Taehyung not notice when he basically had it in his mouth.
“Do you need this?” Taehyung asks dumbly, which is ridiculous, because it’s not like he’d just hand the blueprints over.
Luckily, Jimin hasn’t changed his mind. “Nope. I just needed him.” He jerks his head to the corpse on the floor. “If you work for RM, then I feel like we’ll be seeing quite a bit of each other in the future.”
Clearly, Park Jimin knows something Taehyung doesn’t know, and he doesn’t even care because that honestly sounds wonderful.
Taehyung steps aside, out of Jimin’s way as he goes to grab his suit coat. He wiggles his fingers at him. “See you around, V!” he says with the beautiful sunshine smile.
“Taehyung.”
“Hmm?”
“My name is Taehyung.”
Jimin just smiles.
“Aren’t you going to tell me yours?” Taehyung is pouting and he knows it. Be probably looks ridiculous, like a child but with blood in his hair, but he can’t bring himself to care.
“I already did,” Jimin frowns. “Park Jimin.”
Taehyung looks at him flatly. “Park Jimin is the name of the son of the tech company those plans are stolen from.”
The shorter man grins. “Park Jimin is also one of the most common names in South Korea.” And with that.
He’s gone.
Yoongi has the worst timing. “You got it?”
“Yeah, I got it.” Taehyung gives himself a second to catch his breath before tucking his gun in his holster and the prints in his bloodied jacket. “Also, what the hell just happen.”
“I don’t know but it sounded like you were having a really good time.”
He walks out into the hallway again. Park Jimin is no where to be seen. “If that is Namjoon’s idea of a blind date…”
Yoongi snorts into the mic. “I’ll remind you to thank him later.”
“You’re the best, hyung.”
Taehyung whistles on his way out the door.